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zyafics · 11 months ago

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PLAY FAKE | 03

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs.

The first 'date' is going to be at the country club.

You find it ironic that your first date, in general, is going to be a fake one. Truly, that sets up the rest of your love life. While you never had a steady boyfriend—simply because you don't have time or they couldn't stand that you didn't have time for them—you have fooled around before. You had flings. You had needs and they were met.

Now, funnily enough, so is your lack of dating experience.

You're closing Sailor early today. You hate that you had to but it was the only compromise you had with Rafe. He wanted to pick you up at your house, which you immediately rejected, and you wanted to meet him at the country club. Neither of you would settle, stubbornly, that Rafe decided it would be easier if he picked you up from work and let you get ready at Tannyhill.

As you're locking up the front, you hear a distinct voice calling out your name. Looking over your shoulder, you spot Pope and JJ approaching you, one offering a friendly wave while the blond tips his chin in greeting.

"Hey," Pope says, glancing at your locked doors. "You locking up early?"

"Yeah," you nod, dropping your keys into your bag. "I have to go somewhere."

"I never thought I'd live to see the day," JJ remarks, causing you to chuckle. You grew up with Pope and JJ, despite being a couple of years older, simply because they worked and live near you in The Cut. Pope, specifically, lives just a couple of houses down from yours—having helped you on several occasions with your siblings when you couldn't find a babysitter in time. "Does this mean you're finally getting a life?"

You roll your eyes at the blond. "I have a life."

"Sorry, let me rephrase that," he teases. "A life outside of bartending."

You cross your arms. "You don't seem to be complaining when I give you free booze."

JJ laughs, raising up both hands in surrender. "My bad. I didn't say shit."

Pope rolls his eyes, elbowing his best friend, before turning back to you. His expression is friendly. "Maybe this means you're free to attend some parties."

The idea sparks a reminder in JJ's eyes. "Oh, shit, that's right! We're about to head over to The Boneyard for a kegger. Wanna join?"

It's been a while since you've been to a Pogue party. The idea sounds appealing, but you had other priorities. "Sorry, boys, I got somewhere else I gotta be."

Pope shifts his gaze to the bag in your arms. "Yeah, what's that? Are you planning on running away?"

You chuckle softly. "Nope, not yet. I just have to get ready for an event and these are my new clothes."

JJ raises a brow, flicking his gaze down to the bag for a second. "Can we see?"

You flip the blond off and he laughs. Pope is about to add something else, when a car honks behind you. It must be Rafe. Without glancing behind, you declare that you need to head out and Pope nods, dragging his best friend off the docks with a farewell. When you reach the car parked near the back of the lot, the one that screams money, you get in.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you set the bag on your lap and buckle your seatbelt. Ready to go, but the car hasn't moved. When you turn your head, you see Rafe watching you with a slighted jaw.

"What?"

"What's that all about?" His voice is sharp.

"What?" You repeat, not understanding where the tone is coming from.

"Maybank and Heyward," his expression is hard and unreadable. "What were they talkin' to you about?"

"Nothing," you answer, shifting in your seat, but Rafe doesn't appear pleased. You sigh. "It was just about a party. They always invite me on the off-chance I'll go."

It takes him a beat before he responds.

"You party with them a lot?"

"No, that's why they invite me," you snap, getting a little agitated by the interrogation. "Can we go now? I still have to get ready."

Rafe looks like he wants to probe more, but thankfully, he didn't. He reverses the car out of the parking lot and takes you down the road to Tannyhill, while you admire the drive. You can't believe how split Outer Banks is—how the change in scenery goes from fishery and unkempt lawns to perfectly-manicured yards and a boat per house.

The ride is quiet. When he pulls up to the estate, the largest mansion on the island, you can't seem to stop the awe from flooding your vision. It truly is a sight. You've been here once, a couple of years ago, and the admiration still hasn't worn off. If anything, now older, it amplifies it.

When Rafe turns off the car, he exits from the vehicle in a swift motion. You half-expected him to play the boyfriend act and help you with your bags, but instead, he goes straight into the house. Asshole. You roll your eyes, unbuckling and following after him, meeting one step of his with twice of yours.

"Y'know, a boyfriend would’ve opened the door for me." You declare, following him up the stairs.

"Good to know," he sneers, "but I'm not paying to give you the boyfriend experience, am I?"

He cuts a look behind him to catch your expression and you flip him off, causing a smug look to lift at his face. When he reaches his bedroom door, he cracks it open for you to enter through.

Stepping inside, you noticed how clean it is. Then, you realized, of course it would be. Rafe probably has maids coming in every day to make it spotless for the crowned prince. You were just used to leaving your room a mess in the mornings that your Pogue expectations rolled over to him.

"You can use my bathroom." He points to the closed door on the other side of his room. You follow the voice to find him opening his closet, his back turned to you, searching for his own attire. Without a word, you nod, heading to the ensuite as you set your bags on the ground and unravel them on the sink counter.

You didn't own many fancy clothes. You never needed them and it wasn't affordable. However, you brought the most expensive thing you own. It was nothing in comparison to the luxuries in Rafe's closet, but it was enough. A white cocktail dress that cuts mid-thigh—it was what you wore for your high school graduation.

You put it on before you got ready, and when you did, it was tighter and shorter than you remember. You did gain some weight. You are also older. You try not to let the sentiment pass through you too much—that you're almost twenty-two but in the same place you were when you were eighteen.

You push the thoughts away.

You also push the reason for why you're here away too.

With a deep breath, you start on your makeup. You curl your hair. You even sprayed a little bit of the perfume that your parents got you as a birthday gift a long time ago. It's a bit faint, the smell has faded away from age, but it still smells like that morning when you opened the box, finding a present in your hands, for the first time in a long time.

You push those away too.

Stepping out, you find Rafe dressed. In a tailored dark blue suit, he sits on the edge of his mattress, his hands messing with his phone. Even you have to admit, he cleaned up nicely. His dress shirt spans perfectly across the broad of his shoulders, his biceps filling out the arms, and the form-fitting material latches onto his chest. He even styled his hair—gelled back but loose; a stark contrast to the rundown and casual look he sports upon entering your bars and parties.

The low click of your heels against the marble floor alerts him of your presence.

His gaze lifts to meet your face, before trailing down your body to take you in. You notice his Adam's apple slightly bobs and you wonder if it's because you're a little underdressed compared to him.

"Are you done?" He asks stiffly, clearing his throat and shifting his eyes away. You walk out of his bathroom completely, stopping in front of his closet mirror to apply the finishing touches of your makeup.

When you're finished, you turn back around and strike a small pose for him. "What do you think?"

"You look... good." He settles and you roll your eyes. Of course that's the only compliment he can come up with. You expect nothing less.

"You should expand your vocabulary and give better compliments to your girlfriend," you tease, stepping closer to him. His legs parts slightly, almost inviting you in. "Or else people might assume you aren't giving them enough."

He scoffs. "You look fuckable. Is that better?"

Your nose wrinkles. "Awful. 0/10."

He chuckles, looking to the floor, but his laugh is tense. You glance down, noticing the way his shoulders are rigid and his posture is straight as a rod, and realization strikes you. Just as you're nervous, so is Rafe.

You step forward, in between the space of his legs, and place a delicate hand on his shoulders. He looks up to you. "You good?" You ask gently.

"I'm fine." He quickly brushes off, pushing away from your touch. "I'm just ready to get this shit over with. I hate business dinners."

"Spoken by someone who wants to get in said business." You retort, turning around to grab your purse off his dresser, when suddenly, you feel Rafe grabs your exposed thigh, holding you in place between him.

You turn back, raising a confused brow.

"Give me a kiss."

This request startles you. "Why?"

His eyes study your face before shrugging. "Practice."

You can't help but laugh a little. It truly is your go-to response to everything, and you notice his shoulders slightly unwind at the sound. "Why? Are you a bad kisser?"

He rolls his eyes, and with one strong tug, you fall into his open lap. His hand cups your cheek, and without another word, he kisses you. Softly, at first, as if he's trying to get used to the feel of your lips against his, before deepening it. You can't help but let out a content sigh, enjoying the feeling.

When he slightly pulls away, he murmurs against your lips. "Someone needs to do something about that mouth of yours."

You scoff, placing both arms on either side of his shoulders and looping it around his neck, pulling back to get a better look of his face. His eyes are unreadable and his lips are faintly red from the shade of your lipstick.

"Isn't that supposed to be your job?" You tease, tilting your head to the side. "Or should I find another fake boyfriend to put me in my place?"

His expression goes hard. This time, he leans forward and captures your lips against him, in a firmer, more possessive manner. It's everything that accumulated so far—from seeing you with Maybank and Heyward outside the docks to the little dress-up you did specifically for him.

It's the idea of you, in his lap, knowing for the next couple of hours, you're his.

You only pull away to catch a breath, giggling at the sight of your lipstick smeared over his face. Running the pad of your thumb over his mouth, you attempt to wipe away the cosmetic product with no avail.

“You messed up my makeup,” you jokingly pout, rising from his lap. His touch loosens around you, but with great reluctance. When you go to the bathroom to take a paper towel, you return to wipe the remnant of your kisses off of Rafe.

"I'll buy you a new one." He says as you wipe away the last of it.

You roll your eyes at the suggestion. "No need." You declare, returning to his closet mirror to reapply your lipstick and fix the smudges.

He says nothing in return. His gaze follows your every move. It isn't until you're done, really done, that you step in front of him and hold out your hand for Rafe to take.

"Come on, boyfriend," you say the title with a tease. "Time to play house."

—

When you arrive at the country club, your heart stutters in your chest. It's a bit intimidating, the glory of Fight Eight and all their Kooks, pinned down to this exclusive membership to say you made it. You wonder, for a brief moment, if you'll ever get there.

But, then you remember, for the next couple of hours, you'll pretend you did.

You don't know if Rafe allowed you a few minutes in the car to get ready or if he needed it himself, but you take the scraps. When the moment was over, he stepped out and crossed over to the passenger side to open your door.

You smile at the gesture, allowing yourself to be led out of the car by his hand. When he closes the door behind you, you tilt your head up at him. "Thought boyfriend acts were below you?"

"Had to play the part in front of these people, didn’t I?"

You remember where you are and the smile fades out. You are no longer in the confines of your bar nor his desolated mansion. It's you, with people watching, with people reporting, with his father within proximity. Every decision, in the next couple of hours, is an act.

A falsity.

Remember that.

You silently nod as he places his arm around your waist, planting a soft kiss on the side of your forehead, as he leads you towards the entrance. There were waitstaff attending there, and when you approach close enough, they open the double doors. Rafe skips past them without a single acknowledgement, but you mumble a thank you in their direction, before being whisked away to the setting.

Your eyes admire the details. The decorations hung against the walls and railings of the place, the bouquets set on every corner, the streams of crystal chandeliers dangling above you in every room. It's glorious.

"They have tulips," you whisper to Rafe, who follows your gaze to the centerpiece in front of the stairwell. "It's not even in season."

"We're Kooks, sweetheart," he says with a scoff, an air of arrogance. "If we want something, we get it."

You say nothing as you scan the rest of the room, preparing yourself for the evening. Rafe and you went through most of the details about your arrangement, how you two got together, when it happened, and the minor sentiments to make it seem real. You believe you're prepared enough.

"Ready to meet my dad, sweetheart?" Rafe mumbles into your ear, his breath hot against your neck. You nod.

"As ready as I'll ever be, darling."

Rafe chuckles at the nickname you picked, but you figured it would play the part. Pretend there's some tenderness between the two of you. You may not have been given instructions on how to be a girlfriend, but you imagine it would be something cheesy. Sweet. A little bit unrealistic.

Just like this.

Rafe pulls you towards the crowd. While caterers and waiters waltz across the room in a coordinated dance, you couldn't help but search for the bartenders. Of who they booked this evening. You wonder, for a moment, if you were even on their radar.

A murmur of conversations starts to fade out as you arrive and your fingers squeeze Rafe's hand. Ward was the last to acknowledge your presence, his eyes observing you and trailing down to the intertwined hands of you and his eldest son.

"Dad," Rafe greets, his voice filled with proper and posh, you wonder if this was the same person you were talking to moments ago. "I'd like you to meet my girlfriend."

He introduces your name to the crowd and Ward stares in amazement, if not, with a little bit of disbelief. His eyes left his son, tracing you, trying to pinpoint anything out of place.

"Hi," you hold out your hand for a handshake. He takes it. "It's so nice to meet you. Rafe has told me all about you."

"He has?" Ward lifts his dark brow at you. "What does he say?"

Other than rants about you? Nothing good, you thought.

Rafe stiffens beside you, his eyes on the firmed on the side of your face but you don't falter. You've been in customer service for a long time, you knew how to lie.

"He said you're a good businessman for Cameron Development. Someone with a lot of difficult choices to make. He hopes to be there with you one day." You summarize, pinpointing the good details of Rafe's tirades. You hope he didn't recognize the little jab you placed there.

Ward looks amused. A bit proud. But says nothing more. Dinner is declared ready and everyone begins to take their place. You fall into a seat beside Rafe; he even pulled out a chair for you before he sat.

You want to stick your tongue at him and tease him, but you know this isn't the appropriate time. Returning your sight to what's before you, you feel slightly out of place. Usually, you're the one serving these people, not the ones being served. The reversed role is jarring.

When the waitress comes around and asks for everyone's drink orders, you internally frown. When she came to you, you answered that you wanted some pinot noir while Rafe chose whiskey neat. Leaving off, the business dinner proceeds.

You zone in-and-out at their conversations. It's mostly about marketplace and land developments, furthering relationships between companies, and the occasional jab on who has the better enterprise. You wanted to nod off, but you didn't.

So, you watch Rafe instead.

His eyes are set on his father, observing the interactions between him and his business partners. His gaze is focused and diligent, absorbing every little detail, as if he's making mental notes about it. About how he would proceed if he gets the company.

You admire that. It reminds you of how you view Sailor.

When the conversation winds down to casual talk, and you're on your second course, Ward surprises you by calling you out by name.

You lift your gaze to meet his. "I wanted to ask where I know you from," Ward begins, raising his glass. "You seem vaguely familiar."

You clear your throat before you answer.

"I work at Sailor," you explain, wiping your hands against the clothed napkin. "My family owns it. We catered for you a few years ago."

It takes a moment for it to click, and recognition dawns on his face. "That's right," he drawls, amused chuckles signals to the rest of the table. "You were working as the bartender for one of the company's charity events. You had that specific drink I like," he clicks his fingers, trying to remember the name. "That whiskey."

"The Godfather?" You offer, to which Ward nods in confirmation. You laugh softly. "Yeah, that's a family recipe. It's been in my family for a couple generations."

"I remember you saying that before," he nods. "So, that makes you a Pogue."

You know it wasn't said with disdain. Not the same manner that his son carries for the second class. Ward used to be a Pogue himself, being one of the very few who was able to rise out of lower-class and make a name for himself. Despite knowing he's on the opposite side of you, you did admire that. You wanted that yourself.

"So were you, sir. You're a legend around The Cut," you compliment. "The ideal story of how we can make it out."

"With your work ethic, I don't doubt it," he compliments with a wink and you smile. The compliment feels real, and you felt appreciated. Saying nothing else, you take a sip of your drink as you watch how Ward's gaze slides over to his son sitting quietly next to you.

The dinner proceeds with more chatter. You swear you were getting full by the end of the meal, before dessert, that you ask Rafe to take some of your food and finish them for himself. He begrudgingly accepts, allowing you to inconspicuously slide the plate over to his. When it came down to the final hour and everything was served, people started heading out for the night.

Everyone leaving, the table slowly empties until it was only Ward, Rose, Rafe and you.

"So, you're dating my son," Ward declares, and you hesitantly nod. You don't know which direction this conversation may lead, especially now that there's no social barriers constraining his interrogation. "How long?"

You lift your gaze to Rafe, hoping he could answer and you could supply.

"A few weeks," he answers curtly, his eyes set on his father. You notice his hands clenched on his lap, his leg bouncing under the table. "It's new."

"After our...?"

"Yes," Rafe answers without allowing him to finish. "I thought I would listen to your advice."

Ward nods, satisfied. You thought it would be the end of it, before he turned back to you. "Do you know about Rafe's habits?"

Rafe stiffens. His eyes pinned on his father with a hard expression, almost a silent plea not to continue, but Ward ignores his son. "His parties and his drinking? The occasional drugs?"

Rafe turns to you, watching you as you come up with an answer. You silently move your hand over his, enclosing it over his larger one, hoping it would ease some relief into his system. Almost a silent promise; a way to say I have your back.

"I do," you nod, letting the words roll off lightly.

"And you still choose to date him?"

You nod again. "Yes, sir."

Ward laughs. "A saint."

Rafe tense under your touch.

"It's not that." You shake your head, your expression serious. "He has his vices, sure, but that doesn't undermine who he is. He's determined and focused, and when he has a goal, he puts his whole being into it. It's good to have someone like him in your corner."

You avoid Rafe's eyes as you say this. It surprised him. He didn't think you would say some positive attributes about him, especially since he's been nothing but a pretentious asshole to you, but your words were genuine. Authentic. He heard you lie and tell truths, and this one leans towards the latter.

Ward looks to be in the same vein of astonishment and you say nothing as you smile, lifting your glass by the stem and taking another sip. The alcohol isn't as good as yours, but you were glad to make it out alive and passed the test.

When the caterers came back to clean up the table, you decided that you wanted to help them. You know it was unconventional, to be assisting the help as the guest, but you wanted to get out of the space for a moment. To get back to your roots.

You carry some dishes and head towards the kitchen, despite the gentle pleas from the waitstaff.

When you left, Rafe remained with his father. Rose is gathering her things as Ward rises from his chair, Rafe following in suit. When the patriarch gestures for him to approach, the diligent son listens, stepping towards his father.

Ward claps his hand on his shoulder, almost proud. "I'm surprised, Rafe, I never thought I'd see the day." He begins, glancing over to you in the kitchen, moving around in swift and coordinated style. "You did good, son, probably the best you'll ever do."

Rafe stiffens under his father's touch. The words pricking in his ears. "She's a capable woman. But, next time you bring her, make sure she wears something more... appropriate."

He glances back over to you, replacing the plates to the top cabinets, rising to your tippy-toes in a way that pulls up the back of your short dress. Yes, he noticed that it wasn't the typical business attire, a little shorter than recommended, but he pinned it as something a Pogue would wear. Something they didn't think about.

But, the criticism in his ear from his father, it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Rafe clenches his jaw, just as Ward slips his hand off his son's shoulder and gathers his wife to leave.

Rafe stands still. He watches you for a few more moments. He noticed some of the sparsely-remaining guests would pass the kitchen, on the way to the exit, and spare a glance at you and your barely-covered ass. His anger heightens.

Marching over, Rafe says nothing as he surprises you and grabs your arm. Without saying a word, he pulls you away from the kitchen and takes you to the nearest bathroom.

He locks the door close.

"What–what the hell?" You snap, pulling your arm out of his grip but his hold is firm. Your furrowed gaze looks up to meet him, finding his expression nothing short of a timid rage and fury, ready to boil over and burst.

Rafe is strumming with adrenaline. With anger. With all these emotions coursing through him in rapid succession, he can't reach out and grab any of them. Something about his father's comment tonight rubbed him in a bad way. The way Ward doesn't think he was good enough for you, a Pogue he found off the streets. The way your dress is too fucking short. The way you were being too kind—grabbing his hand, calming him, complimenting him. It was all wrong.

He needs release.

He needs to take it out on you.

"You had to wear the shortest fucking thing you owned?" He sneers, his hand sliding over your ass and squeezing it, hard. It elicits a small moan from you. "Had to show off what a fucking slut you are, didn't you?"

Your mind is spinning. You don't understand what is going on. You thought everything was good—you even sweared you saw a covert smile on Rafe's face before you left. You don't know what could happen between then and now and why he's being so aggressive to you. His words. His touch.

You don't know why you like it.

Turning around, you try to grab his attention, placing a hand on the side of his face. "What happened?" You say, breathless, "talk to me."

He flinches out your touch. "I don't want to talk."

"What do you want?"

"Get on your knees."

You do.

Rafe watches as you sink to the bathroom floor, the lack of coverage from your dress does nothing to soften the hardness of the ground. He unbuckles his pants, removes them, and reveals the impressive bulge hidden behind his boxer-briefs.

You watch attentively as he takes the last piece of barrier off, freeing his cock, just inches from your face. The tip is covered with a bit of precum, something that you want to put in your mouth. You feel the throb in your pussy, squeezing your legs tighter to relieve some of the ache.

"You want a boyfriend who puts you in your place?" He looks down at you, the look on his eyes is hard and detached, like he's out of it. "One who's there to do something with that mouth of yours? You want that, Pogue?"

You find yourself nodding, almost hungrily, following along to his words. He scoffs with a condescending laugh, gripping the base of his shaft with one hand and guiding it closer to your mouth. "Open."

Part of you want to use the moment to ask him what's going on. For him to clue you in on something. But you don't get the chance. Without your immediate obedience, Rafe roughly grabs your face and squeezes your cheeks, forcing your mouth to pop open.

"Are you going to listen to me, sweetheart?" He taunts, "or am I gonna have to teach you a lesson?"

"I'll listen." You confess, your voice doesn't sound like your own. The ache between your legs doesn't subside.

Satisfied, Rafe levels the tip to your face, tapping it against the plump of your bottom lip, before pushing it in.

He goes a little fast. Like he's trying to fuck your face. Your touch comes up to slow down, exchanging his hand with yours, grabbing his base to allow you to guide his cock into your mouth at your own discretion. He allows you to have that control, his hand traveling up to your hair, tugging at the roots.

When he hits the back of your throat, you gag, and Rafe lets out a guttural groan. "Fuck, just like that," he murmurs, tipping his head back at you take him in. "This fucking mouth."

He comes in and out of you, finding a rhythm that allows you to get used to his dick in your mouth. When you do something that makes him feel good, his grip around your hair tightens, pulling you to stay in place.

"Is this how I have to punish you?" His voice is sharp, but the edge comes off with every pleasure that elicits out of him. "You get one fucking chance to meet all these people, all these Kooks, and you had to dress like a slut. To show off?"

He grabs you by the roots, tilting your head in a way that pops his cock out and your eyes to find his. "Who do you belong to?" He asks.

Your core throbs at the possession. "You."

He nods and breathes out a raspy breath. "That's fucking right."

Letting you go, Rafe suddenly pulls you to your feet. His hands hooks under your ass and lifts, setting you down on the sink counter, your back slams against the wall in a harsh beat. Without wasting a second, Rafe grabs your thighs and pulls you towards the edge, just enough where you don't fall off.

"Rafe," you call out, as your eyes connect with his, his breathing is heavy. His eyes are wild. He doesn't answer you, roughly spreading apart your thighs, his hand traces the wet patch formed against your panties, causing a shiver to run down your spine. "God."

Rafe leans in, his lips just caressing your bare shoulders. "Just a Pogue who does what I want, when I want, aren't you?" He reminds you of your place, the gentle touches of his fingers erupting aches and unbearable heat between your legs. You don't answer him in time. "Aren't you?"

"Just yours."

He chuckles, pulling back to flick his gaze up to you. "And who made you this wet?"

Your voice is needy. "You did."

"That's right," he pushes your panties to the side, fingers moving up and down your slit in delicate strokes. You lean forward into his touch but his grip is placed on your hips. "I did. And I want you to remember that this is mine. No one can touch but me."

You nod into his words, willing to give him anything to prove some semblance of pleasure for you. "All yours," you choke desperately, "please, make me come."

His hand leaves your core, and the coldness that evades his absence pricks your sensitive skin. His hand raises to cup the back of your neck, forcing you to meet his eyes. "Aw, baby," he mocks, "bad girls don't get to come."

You open your mouth to object, but Rafe lines his cock against your entrance and, without warning, pushes himself in. You feel your body arches forward, letting out an uninhibited moan, as he stretches you out.

"Fuck," you press your forehead against his warm chest, your breathing unsteady and your eyes flutters in-and-out of consciousness. "It's so—you're so—" You can't find your words, your mind scrambled.

Rafe catches your jaw, forcing your eyes open and to look down at you see him lodge deeper and deeper inside of you. His motion is slow and steady, allowing you to adjust, before quickening his speed. "Look," he murmurs into your ear, your skin hot everywhere, "look at how good your pussy is taking me."

The sound of wetness echoes in the small bathroom, the evidence of your arousal to him, to Rafe, that you can't help but choke at the noise. Your head is spinning. You feel pleasure and pain ripping out of you, all at once, subdued by the rising credence of your climax.

Rafe doesn't loosen his grip around your jaw, forcing you to watch attentively to how his cock thrusts upon you, entering and leaving, the motion a mesmerizing sight that produces further need within you.

"Rafe," you moan with a whimper, you steady yourself by gripping his shoulders, digging your nails into your shoulder blades, trying to regain some control. "Faster. Please, I want to come so bad."

"What did I say, sweetheart?" He tilts your head to meet his hardened gaze, his breathing shakily and unorganized as the feeling of the way your walls grip him provides the most pleasurable sensation, he was sure to come soon. "Bad girls don't come."

Your eyes grow teary as you feel him fill you up, to the hilt, your stomach so full of him. He moves at a pace that works for him, that allows him to climb to his climax, while it's frustratingly slow for you. Not enough for you to reach the peak.

You lean into him, chest pressed to chest, your breathing unsteady as your walls tightens around cock.

"Come on, baby." He taunts. "Make me feel so good."

Him, you note, because this is about his pleasure. Because you didn't deserve to reach the same ecstasy.

"Rafe," your voice is so raspy, you resort to begging. You can feel his cock twitching inside of you. "Please, please, I'll be so so good—"

He slaps a hand over your mouth, covering your pleas. Your eyes teary as you stare up at him. "I don't want to hear anything." He snaps with a grunt, "you're a Pogue. Fucking act like it."

This Rafe is cruel. It isn't the same person who defended you against the drunk stranger. He isn't the same one who kissed you at Tannyhill. This is the Rafe you met on the back porch of Topper's house, the one who comes into your bar, the wildcard his father warns you about.

You know you should stop this. To come to your senses and deny him of the pleasure he so desperately chasing from you. To gain some control. But it feels so goddamn good, that the idea of losing the feeling of Rafe, inside of you, was harder to bear. It makes you lose all clarity.

When you feel Rafe's strokes growing more sloppy, a sudden realization dawns on you.

"Rafe," you say breathily, "pull out. I need—you need to pull out."

He cups your cheeks, a firm but not harsh grip like before, and forces your eyes to meet his. "What did I say about telling a Kook what to do?" He taunts lazily, just with one final thrust, he comes inside of you.

His hot cum fills you up, and it feels so warm and nice, you think you're going insane with the buzzing sensation you feel afterwards. He stiffens as he spazzes, his head leaning against the crook of your neck as the wave of his climax rolls over him, the stillness of his cock inside of you leaves an unbearable ache between your legs.

Rafe pulls out within a few short breaths, slipping his dick out of you as the cum leaks onto the counter and drips onto the floor. You are completely still, your eyes following him as he reshuffles around in his post-orgasmic haze, redressing his pants and briefs in one piece.

He moves around to grab some tissue papers, coming back to dab the area around your filled cunt to clean you up, his eyes not meeting yours. In shame, frustration, or clarity, you don't know.

When he finishes, he buckles his belt and throws the tissues into the trash. Pausing at the door, he glances at you for a brief, tiniest second. "Clean up. I'll drive you back."

When he leaves, you take a moment to gather yourself. To reel in everything. You slowly slip off the counter, landing on wobbly and aching legs, and turn around to view your reflection in the mirror.

The mess of your hair, the wrinkles of your clothes, his cum leaking down your thighs.

It takes a beat, then two, before you find yourself producing words.

"What the fuck just happened?"

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Navigation — Part 02 | Part 03 | Part 04

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l1tw1ck · 5 months ago

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Not a Suspect

Bottom!Dean x Top!Male Reader

☆ Word Count: 1,292 ☆

probably ooc/plot dependent, I haven't watched in a while 😭

CW: Non-Con, First Time Bottoming, Anal Fingering, Humiliation, Overstimulation, Semi Rough Sex, Blood Mention, Daddy Kink, Creampie

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” Your hand is pressed against Dean’s neck, his back against the wall. You lifted him a few inches in the air in order to meet your eyes. You caught him snooping around your room.

“I- I thought this was my uncle’s house!” He smiles sheepishly. You're so much stronger than he is, he wasn't expecting to be put in a chokehold. “The door was unlocked so—”

“Save it. I’ve seen you and that other guy hanging around town snooping for information about that incident. You must think I’m a criminal, huh?”

“That's not the case, sir, I um—”

“Did you come to that conclusion after you searched my things?” You click your tongue then look him up and down. “I’ll let this slide though. As long as you make it up to me.”

“I uh, I have forty dollars-”

“Hmm.” You place him on the ground and turn him around. You grab his wallet from his back pocket and find an ID. Your old jobs gave you the skill of knowing what's fake and what's real. “Of course. I knew you weren't a real detective.” You laugh.

“I’m an undercover investigator!”

“Uh huh.” You find a secret pocket and find his real ID. “There we go. Dean Winchester.”

Dean’s ears burn red. He can't believe he's in this situation and that he can't fight back, something about this is making him feel timid. Sam warned him not to do this but he didn't think he'd feel so helpless against you. He’s fought much stronger and scarier creatures than you but it's different when it comes to humans. You can't figure out their motives so easily.

You drop his wallet and lean over, unbuckling his belt then forcefully pulling his pants down. “Hey! What are you doing?!” He flails around defiantly.

“Stop moving.” You use his belt to tie his wrists together.

“I’m not gay!”

“You really think I care, sweetheart?” You pull down his boxers. “Besides, I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself.” You spread his ass open and spit on his rim before forcefully shoving a finger inside him.

“Fuck!” He cries out. “Stop!”

You chuckle. “I know your type. You gag at the mere idea of having sex with another guy.” You force another finger inside him and start stretching him out. “Then, once you do, you love it like the little slut you really are. Trust me.”

His entire face is red with humiliation. “You're wrong.”

“We’ll see about that.” You find his prostate. Dean moans, his knees buckling. If it weren't for your hand on his waist, he’d probably fall. “There it is.” You say gently, your husky voice making him feel strange. You continue to prod at his prostate, reveling in his strained whimpers. He’s trying so hard not to make a sound. He clenches his fists and aggressively bites down on his lip as you continue to pleasure him, although he doesn't want to admit that.

He will admit that it hurts. A lot. Dean rests his forehead on the wall. He hates how good it feels despite everything, your thick fingers stretch him out so well. His face is so hot it feels like he has a fever. “Ah–” Dean gasps. “No- no—” He shuts his eyes tightly and lets out a muffled moan as he comes, splattering the wall with his cum.

“Good boy~” You praise him, slowly sliding your fingers out. It feels like Dean’s head is going to explode. “I’m a little too impatient to keep going.”

Dean gulps at the sound of your belt falling to the ground and your fly being unzipped. There's nothing he can do to stop you. You take out your hard length and press the tip against his rim. You lick your lips and begin to force yourself inside. “You're tight, baby.” You groan, pressing your chin on his shoulder. His palms begin to bleed from how tightly he's clenching his fists, it's too painful for him.

“Fuck—” He breathes out. You're big.

“It hurts, doesn't it?” You coo, reaching out for his weeping cock. “Let me help you.”

Dean moans as you begin to roughly stroke his dick. “Sto- stop–” A single tear runs down his cheek. You're reaching so far inside him. He rolls his eyes back as you bring him closer to his climax.

“It’s all in, baby.” You bottom out. “How’s it feel?”

“It fucking hurts–” He hisses, more tears running down his cheeks. “You bastard– ah~!” He comes once again.

“You're cute when you whine.” You slowly pull back then shove your cock back inside. Dean rolls his eyes back and lets out a slutty sounding moan. You grin and start thrusting in and out of him at a steady pace. You look at his beat red face, his mouth remaining open to let out his pathetic moans. “‘S good, isn't it?”

Dean shakes his head despite his body betraying him. “No- No~!”

“You're not good at lying.” You place your hand on his throat, lifting his head up. “Admit it. You like getting fucked.”

He bites down on his lip and rips a bit of skin, blood trickling down. You lean in closer and lick up his blood. “You like how Daddy spreads open your tight hole, don't you, baby?”

He lets out a muffled whimper, his cock weakly spurting out another rope of cum.

You chuckle. “I know I’m right.” You let go of his neck and stroke his dick again. “You’re just a pretty little cock whore.”

“Nnh- No-” He moans. Dean is well aware of the fact that his lies are completely unbelievable. He doesn't want to like this at all.

“Yeah? You really think you're not? You think you're not into this?” You laugh again. “No, Dean, you're a slut who loves taking cock. You love how it feels to have a cock in your ass. Admit it.”

“I don't- I don-” He pauses, drool spilling from his lips as you stroke his sensitive cock.

“Be honest, slut.” You rub the tip of his length with your thumb. Dean has another orgasm. He…He really does like it.

He whimpers adorably. “Don't…Don’t stop.”

“That’s what I thought.” You say smugly, smirking. He shivers. You let go of his poor length and pull out. You turn him around and lift him up by his thighs, pushing his back against the wall. He looks at you in embarrassment as you slide your length back inside him and roughly fuck him.

Dean moans more freely than before, his eyelashes fluttering like a hand fan. He wraps his arms around you for stability. “Fuck~! Wai- wait~!” He gasps.

“I can't control myself, your cunt feels too fucking good.”

He mewls. You lean in and sloppily make out with him. You’re driving him insane. You slide your hand up underneath his shirt and rub your thumb against his nipple. He moans into your mouth. His nipples have always been sensitive but it feels even better in this situation.

You pull away and let out a groan. “Gonna come, sweetheart, right in this tight ass of yours.”

“Mmh- yes~” Dean really feels like a slut now. You were right.

You chuckle and let out a low sound of pleasure as your thrusts slow to a halt, your cock spurting hot ropes of cum into his cunt. “There you go, getting your ass stuffed is a much better job for you.” You pull out and drop him onto your bed. “Should I call you a cab?”

He shakes his head. He doesn't want to leave. “Can I stay?”

You chuckle. “Sure. And you know what? I know a few things about that incident you're looking into.”

#wicks🕯works #top male reader #male reader #dom male reader #tw noncon #dean winchester x male reader #bottom dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #supernatural x male reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural smut

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inf3ct3dd · 1 year ago

Text

streamer!ellie pt.2

summary: i hated the other one of this that i made, so REMAKE TIEM!!!

warnings: miiinor sexual content, shit talking, gay people 😒

authors note: heheheh ples don’t flop this time..

- during her faceless days, she opened up a po box so ppl could send her things, and she made an amazon wishlist and she unboxed stuff on stream 😍😍

- one day she was unboxing a giant box of cat toys. string, those little feather stick things, even that weird automatic flapping fish thing (that she secretly loves and taped to her back one time)

- she was playing with this one toy that was a little fishing reel, and it had string and a little fish on the bottom. she went on and onnn about how shes a self proclaimed “fishing master” while garf chased it around, letting out little meows and growls of frustration.

- eventually, she lost her grip and let go of the pole. she bent down to pick it up, forgetting that her face would be in view. thus, the chat started blowing up.

ewwwbruh: FACE REVEAL

ewwife: EW WE CAN SEE UR FACE

ewwife: JUST THE SIDE BUT WE CAN SEE YOUU

ewssidechick: her nose looks so rideable…

- she got distracted petting garfield, and didn’t realize anything until she stood up. she was getting tagged over and over again on twitter, blurry pictures of her face (curtesy of the shitty webcam) circulating through her subreddit.

- “guys. im gonna erase this from ur memory…” and she literally held up this goofy ass hypnotizer pendelum and started fake hypnotizing everyone like “that never happenedddd” “you don’t know what i look likeeee” “that was fakeeee” “chat that was not reallll”

- and everyone literally js went along with it and pretended it never happened. like ppl were tweeting about it and everyone was like “huh??? what are u talking about bruh??”

- she did the same thing after falling off her rainbow unicorn scooter 😞

- one time she revealed that the “ew” in her username stood for her initials, and everyone was making the most horrendous guesses. elliam willace being the favorite one.

- “guys, my name is not edward wilson??? i am…not a man”

- shes gotten into so much drama…multiple notes app apologies have been issued via her instagram story.

- people would ask her opinions on other streamers, and she’d literally just be like “…i have no idea who that is.” and people would get so MADDDD but homegirl is literally just blatantly unaware

- or she would know , and would literally be like “they’re honestly super annoying and i would rather kill myself than watch them but whatever floats ur boat ig!”

- she played that “womp womp womp womppp” sound effect on her soundboard afterwards.

- SPEAKING OF. she abuses that soundboard sooo much. its so obnoxious and annoying like I SWEARRR!!! she’ll tell a horrible pun and play the crowd laughing and cheering sound effects while literally no one laughed.

“guys. whats the best way to watch a fly fishing tournament??”

“…live streaming.”

(crowd cheering sound effect)

“nooo thank you thank you, you’re all too kind, really!!”

- meanwhile chat was dead silent.

- every time she gets to choose her own name on a game its some dumb shit like "jizzmaster" or "chris fucker"

- “it appears you have entered innapropriate content.” “OHHH LOOK AT EPISODE LOOK AT THESE CORPORATE BIGWIGS TRYING TO CONTROL THE LITTLE MAN???”

- she just ended up naming him “chris phucker”

- like when she played episode on stream and made up really annoying voices for all the characters and made her character look like an elderly man, and made the love interest look like you 😍😍

- she messes up sm on games when she streams normally, but when you're there? she is LOCKED THE FUCK IN. sitting there so focused the entire time just to show off

- whenever she randomly goes silent she just starts SINGING. it's either nicki minaj or some fucking fnaf song

"IS THIS THE THANKS THAT I GET FOR PUTTING U BITCHES ON???"

- speaking of, her favorite fnaf song is def “stay calm” cuz she loves saying “hey kids. Nice to eat ya.”

- bought one of those "i paused my game to be here" tshirts…ironically. you refuse to let her wear it in public

- beefs w kids on fortnite sm... she has definitely gotten banned for saying she was gonna bomb a kids house or fuck their mom 😞

- every time she plays a game, she'll literally sit there and watch an 8 hour long video about the lore. she'll plop down on the couch and watch it like a movie

"did you know everyone actually thought that fnaf one took place in 1993, but it was actually 1992?"

- she definitely had you sit next to her when she played through fnaf because she was lowk scared the entire time whenever she heard you walking around the house while she was playing she'd hear footsteps in the hallway and be like. WHAT THE FUCKKK

-she'd have you right next to her, laying your head on her shoulder and messing with her free hand. if you fell asleep, she would be sitting there slapping her hand over her mouth whenever she gets jumpscared bc she doesn't want you to wake up 😞

- sometimes, while she streams , she plays one handed games and lets you sit and draw on her arm for fun. even got you a whole set of those skin markers so u could go ABSOLUTELY HAM. she got one drawing you did that said “r + e 4eva” tattooed in ur handwriting…such a sap

- she loves watching fan edits of herself...AND OF YOU. she'll be on her burner account with a whole collection on tiktok of edits of you.

ewwsbiggestfan: shes so bad i want her to hit me w her car...

- speaking of. imagine her using that account to make shitty capcut edits of you like

- shes ur biggest fan ongod

-WHILE WE’RE ON THE TOPIC OF “fans”…what if i made a completely new origin story for streamer!ellie and reader. what if they were both streamers….

- OKAY SO BASICALLY.

- you had started streaming about a year before ellie did. butttt, you two did very different types of streaming.

- you weren’t very into like, SERIOUS video games. sure, you played some stuff, like animal crossing and roblox and the sims, but nothing more than that.

- that wasn’t what you were streaming though.

- ever since you were younger, you had been wayyyy into…literature.

-by literature i mean fanfiction. heaps of it.

- actors, anime characters, BOOK CHARACTERS, you were in DEEP

- sometimes, for fun, you used to read them out loud in stupid voices. when you were alone, or with your friends, it was very entertaining

- that’s when you got the idea to start streaming it. if it could entertain your friends, and you, whos to say it wouldn’t entertain other people.

- well, it definitely did. in your first year, you hit 10k followers. people loved you. theyd make edits of you, send in requests of fics for you to read, everything.

- a while later, ellie started gaining more and more popularity. out of all the incomes of fame, fanfiction was the most. abundant!

- one day, you got a request to read an ellie x reader fic. at the time, you barely had any idea who she was, but you decided to just go with it 🤞🏽

- “who the fuck is elliam willace???”

- the fanfic was definitely very…graphic!

- “your hips rolled onto her thigh, her slender, tattooed hand palming at your waist. ‘you’re doing so good babe, fuck.’-“ “GUYS. ISN’T SHE NOT ON MUTE RIGHT NOW???”

- you couldn’t help but giggle the rest of the fic, feeling a nagging heat in your core. you didn’t even know who the girl was, but if this fic was accurate, someone would have to sedate you.

-“im actually. gnawing at the iron bars of my enclosure. GUYS. who is this woman…is she real… if she is. things are about to get WICKED.”

- not very thankful to you at the moment, she was very real. apparently, you and her were streaming at the same time, and your followers raided her stream telling her she was reading about you. her curiosity was obviously piqued, and why would she NOT join the stream?

- creeperewman: im definitely real!

- the text on your screen literally made your stomach fall into your ass. you stood up and legit just walked out of the room, camera still on. was she there the whole time???

- creeperewman: aww 😞 where’d she go she’s so badddd

- you eventually returned after a minute of calming yourself down, and low and behold, she gifted you 100 subs and followed you on instagram.

- she was definitely very real!! and that fanfic was…lore accurate. to say the least 😊

- after you two started dating, the two of you would often show up on eachothers streams. ellie, teaching you how to play cod, and you, reading with her.

- she secretly loves reading the fics people write about her and making fun of them, and every time you stream with her shes “subtly” hinting that you should read about her

sitting there pulling on her collar, looking away like “gee, wonder who you’re gonna pick today” with the worst fake laugh ever.

- “ellie can barely ride a scooter, idk why she’s in the mafia rn…” “you fall off ONE TIME and all of a sudden you cant ride a scooter. bullshit.”

- she makes fun of all the dumb pet names like “babygirl” and “darling” and randomly calls you them and bursts out laughing

- you still read those fics when you’re bored sometimes. and ellie MERCILESSLY makes fun of you for it

“yknow, if you missed me that bad, you should’ve just told me.”

#streamer!ellie #ellie williams au #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams x black!reader #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x you #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams

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jazzyoranges · 1 year ago

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Saw you take requests!! Can you do a fluffy Wednesday x Shape shifter!Reader (no smut please) where it's Wednesday's writing time but she can't think of ideas so reader turns into a cat and curls up on Wednesday's lap? Basically helping Wednesday by making sure Wednesday can't get up until she writes a chapter. Thanks!

Orange kitty - drabble

Wednesday Addams x fem!reader

Words: 0.8k

A/n: i feel like we as a fandom haven’t been putting the orange cat x black cat trope in enough fics. this is me advocating for orange cat!r

“I feel your eyes on me, (Y/n).”

“I’m not allowed to look at my friend anymore?”

“It’s distracting. You’re inhibiting me from writing.” Wednesday isn’t fully lying. She just doesn’t add how you give her an odd feeling. An odd feeling she doesn’t like.

“Aww, do I make you nervous, Wens?” You laugh, deciding to ignore the glare she sends your way

“Keep talking and I’ll remove your voice box.”

“Please, I think you’d miss me too much” You roll your eyes, stretching on Wednesday’s bed

You turn into a cat as per Thing’s request, and you two start to play tag around Wednesday and Enid’s shared room. Thing happily bragged that you and him were better friends once. His hubris only resulted in Wednesday taking away his favorite lotions for an entire week.

The Addams girl huffs when she, yet again, makes a mistake on her typewriter. This was unlike her. The tiny trash can under her desk was nearing being full only after one or two hours of her failed attempts at writing. Wednesday put her hands in her lap after she realized her words only became futile

The abrupt stop of clacking keys makes you turn your head, giving Thing the perfect opportunity to tag you back on Enid’s bed. You quickly turn human again with almost a cartoon-ish pop, and ask Thing if Wednesday was allergic to cats

“She’s not, why do you ask?” He signs

“Do you think she’d kill me if I sat on her lap?” You sign back, not wanting Wednesday to hear

“As a human, most definitely. But if you were a cat maybe she’d tolerate you. No promises, though” Thing somehow shrugs using his thumb and pinkie finger as arms. God, you loved the weird appendage

“I can hear you two talking. I’d prefer if you’d leave me in silence.”

“Writers block?”

“No, I’m merely thinking of the correct words to use.”

“Maybe you should ask Enid for help. The woman can reach over the Twitter character limit in like… three seconds. Two if she’s really excited”

“Recommend such a horrid idea again and I’ll release you in my pen of hellhounds.”

“We both know I’d win” You cockily smirk, again ignoring what looks to be annoyance on Wednesday’s face. Then again, she always looked annoyed

“Your hubris is laughable. Let’s see how you suffice when your digestive system is ripped open.”

“Tempting, but I’d rather stay here with you”

You can only assume Thing listens with watchful… fingers? You execute your plan to him, and a quick pinkie-promise indicates he gets to bury you if Wednesday decides to kill you after the stunt you’re about to pull

“Hey, Wens?” The Addams doesn’t show any form of talking but you decide to keep going

“Did you know people say cats can lessen anxiety?”

The Addams hums in acknowledgement, so you continue

“Well, I don’t exactly believe it”

“And why is that.” Wednesday sighs. Sometimes she wonders why she indulges in you

“I dunno, just seems fake. I was wondering if you’d do an experiment with me?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Great! Thanks, Wens” You give Thing a quick wink after turning into a cat and hopping up onto her desk. Turning your head to the side as if you were asking a question, you looked at Wednesday for an answer

You were crazy, but not crazy enough to do something to make Wednesday hate you

For some reason, the Addams girl doesn’t even have a second chance to think before scooting back her chair. You’re about to jump into her lap with a paw over the edge of her desk, but you glance up to make sure Wednesday was sure. You receive a small nod

The action is enough to make you whisper a small “thank you” but it only comes out as a small meow

You circle around her lap for a good area to lay, and you quickly take your spot with a tiny smile that makes your eyes close. Wednesday scoots her chair back in, and she has absolutely no idea what to do.

Only when you start to purr a shiver goes up her spine. The vibrations are light, and something about you happily laying on her lap makes you chip away at Wednesday’s walls the tiniest bit. She contemplates where to put her hands before Thing scurries on top of you to scratch behind your ear. Wednesday shoots him a deathly glare in return, but your favorite Addams (don’t tell Wednesday) stays put

As if showing Wednesday how to pet a cat, Thing gets off of your back and points a finger in your direction. Hesitantly, the Addams girl copies the actions Thing showed her

And you? You were having an amazing time. Wednesday’s fingers were cold but every stroke of her hand was calculated. She took note of which spots you purred louder, and continued her movements

Fuck you and your ability to get what you want, Wednesday thinks. Of course your smug ass knew cats lessened anxiety. Of course.

But Wednesday can’t help being addicted to your tiny purrs and vibrations

With her left hand fondling your ear and her right on her typewriter, she decides maybe a cat could be arranged in her novel.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #wednesday (2022)#wednesday x reader #wednesday x y/n #wednesday x you #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams #thing addams #enid sinclair

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sexlapis · 1 year ago

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yn and toji filming a buzzfeed puppies interview together then getting a question about if they would adopt a dog together 🎀🎀🎀

TOJI FUSHIGURO & Y/N + PUPPIES

⤷ cw: fluff, short fic, cute puppies, toji & yn haven’t exactly gone public but everyone basically knows they’re together 💀

a/n: needed to make this a whole thing bc i love this idea sm 🤭

INTRO

“oh my god!” you squeal as the crew members release six fluffy, tiny golden retriever puppies to where you and toji sit. the puppies immediately run over to both of you, and begin licking all over you knees and hands.

“hey, little guy..” toji coos and gently lifts the dog in his hands, practically dwarfing the small animal in the size of them. “such a little squirt, huh?”

you on the other hand, now have three bundles of pale yellow fluff bundled up in your arms, cradling them like they’re your children. “oh my god, oh my god. they’re all coming home with me, i’ll make it happen somehow.”

IF YOU WERE AN ANIMAL, WHAT ANIMAL WOULD YOU BE?

“easy.” toji begins, smirking. “i’d be a wolf. i-”

in the midst of rubbing the belly of one of the puppies, you snort harshly at his answer, pulling you lips together.

toji drops the smirk and looks at you while he rocks two puppies in crook of his big arms. “what’s funny?”

“toji…you? a wolf? i don’t think so..”

toji scoffs. “what’d you think i’d be then?”

“hmm.. i think.. i think you’d be a chipmunk.”

“chipmunk?!” toji exclaims. “no way!”

you hold one of the puppies up to your face, speaking in a baby voice. “toji would be a chipmunk, wouldn’t he? yes he would! yes he would!”

“i would- you know what you would be?” he starts and you know he’s probably going to say something crazy. “you’d be a pterodactyl.”

“a what!” you cackle, dropping your head onto the floor and laying on your stomach. some of the puppies start climbing on your back. “what the hell would i be a dinosaur?”

he puts one of the puppies on the ground and it rests on his shoe. “pterodactyls ain’t dinosaur actually-”

“ok, toji the palaeontologist, why the hell would be a pterodactyl?”

toji shrug, nuzzling the puppy in his arm. “y’know.. they’re loud..and they got big mouths.”

you gasp. “that is-” you puff your cheeks and start throwing the squeaky toys at him aggressively.

“hey! stop!”

IF YOU COULD ACT WITH ANY ACTOR, WHO WOULD IT BE?

“oh, definitely mikasa ackerman.” you answer. “she’s so talented and sweet.” you bounce the puppy in your arms, one who seems to especially love you and toji. “she’s so sweet! yes she is!”

“yeah i’ve heard good things about her..” toji said. “‘think my choice would be..nanami kento. he’s done good work..seems respectable.”

“wow, really? you’d both hate each other.”

“_____, why are you so negative?” toji asks, faking seriousness. “we would get along. don’t be jealous.”

“jealous?!”

“yeah, jealous,” toji picks up the smallest puppy and it to his chest, stroking its head, “ain’t that right? she’s jealous, right?” he shakes his head at you while shaking the head of the puppy with his hand. “she’s so- oh, that one’s taking a shit on the floor.”

you turn and there it was, a tiny puppy, in toji’s words, taking a shit.

“ew.. i forgot they just did that…”

when the puppy finishes it’s…business, the other puppies run over and start sniffing it.

“oh fuck, they’re about to eat his fucking shit.” toji wheezes, shoulders bouncing m. “their faces just make you forget how fucking disgusting they are..”

“eugh, they’re so nastyy.” you cringe at them, cooing at the puppy in your lap. “but you’re not like they are you?”

WOULD YOU ADOPT A PUPPY TOGETHER?

“yes! yes we would!” you rest the female puppy in your arms. “wouldn’t we, toji?”

toji looks at you, admiring how adorable you look with the adorable, little puppy in your arms. he looks back to the puppies in his arms and lap. “‘couldn’t hurt..”

you shout happily. “toji, we’re taking this one home.” you lift the puppy in your hands to the sky like she’s simba. you look off camera. “can we take this one home? please?”

at the end of the video, you’re hugging toji along with the other puppies. “you’re all coming home with me!”

toji looks to the camera for help

(and that’s how you both end up with 6 golden retriever puppies for pets :))

#🎀.anon cooking #📫.toji #actor! toji #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji x self insert #toji fluff #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji fushiguro fluff #toji zenin x reader #toji zenin x you

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avifaunaa · 9 days ago

Text

how the world spins without you [ n.r. ]

AUTHORS NOTE: Hey guys just a quick note. I go a bit into Natasha's entrance into the U.S. and exit from the Red Room in a sort of big chunk of this. It involves Clint being there as her buddy and as someone who helps her get used to her new life. If you're just here for smut I apologize greatly. I do get to it but I wanted to have Nat be a large focus in this fic! That said -- I hope you enjoy it otherwise. This is an AU where Thanos simply doesn’t live after infinity war. They get to him in time.

Masterlist

PART TWO

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader

Summary: Natasha was adept at many things: assassination, spying, avenging — they made for a great resume. What she wasn’t quite so adept at was understanding you when she returns from her exile and found you at her beloved table.

Content Warnings: Discussions of culture shock and Natasha's integration into the States, SLOW BURN TO GET TO THE SMUT, Mild-to-moderate angst, SO SOFT, hints that R's parents are absent / neglectful at best, Yelena and Kate being immediate gremlins upon introduction

Word Count: ~7.9k

Men and Minors DNI

Natasha Romanoff did not indulge in many things for herself.

Growing up, it was because she was never offered such things. Enjoying 'the small things in life' was simply not an option in the Red Room and Dreykov was particular about ensuring what his girls consumed. Even the smallest comforts could lead to the idea of freedom.

One of the first things Natasha did when she walked away -- after signing an agreement with the United States government, with S.H.I.E.L.D., -- was get coffee. With Clint.

"You ever had coffee? You've had to have coffee," the Hawkeye said as though it were obvious. They had just been transferred back to the U.S. after a successful escape from Budapest. Growing close in tight quarters had meant learning a little about one another between them listening and watching the people go about their lives.

And between the games of hang-man and tic-tac-toe. Another introduction from Clint, seeming flabbergasted that he had to explain the concept of both games to Natasha who, despite her brief stay in America as a child, simply did not know either game.

She learned quickly and had eventually started to defeat him.

"Once," Natasha replied shortly following behind the bruised and filthy man into the bustling New York shop. "For a mission. To blend in."

Clint did not ask her to elaborate, but he clapped his hands together loud enough to garner some curious looks towards the two [ who already stood out like bleeding, infected thumbs needing to be amputated ].

"Wonderful," he chortled, eyes focusing on the chalk-board menus hanging above the barista bar. Fake vines wrapped invitingly around the signs and little drawings decorated the corners.

Natasha did not know -- could not know -- if she hated such a sight of casual happiness when her entire world before today was never allowed this.

"What do I get?" the redhead asked as the line grew closer.

"Whatever you want," he responds as his muscled arm gestured to the various pastry displays and again at the hanging menu board. "Everything here is different. Some things are iced others are hot. Do you want it made like a caffeinated milkshake? Ask for a frappe, I guess."

"Why so many options?" Natasha questioned next, frowning and feeling slightly overwhelmed.

She would never admit that even her fine training and brutal grooming couldn't have prevented some of this culture shock. The Red Room was able to prevent her from seeking out these luxuries in the name of her duties -- they scarcely deigned to say what luxuries they were.

Natasha felt as though she were face to face with one now. Why so many choices when not one person can try nor like them all? She did not even want to look at the amount of food inside of the displays stacked.

She knew the reality of what happens to the food not finished after a store closes. Thrown out and wasted while others hunger for prices they cannot afford.

"Natasha?" They were at the counter now, where all the thick scents of coffee beans and other smells unfamiliar were at their strongest. "Anything look good?"

Natasha scanned the board for something and to squash that overwhelming lump that threatened to rise from her stomach and into her throat, she just said, "Coffee, black."

Clint groaned from beside her as he pulled out a battered wallet. Natasha watched as he used a credit card to pay and wondered if that would be another luxury given to her.

The Red Room gave them everything they saw as a necessity. Money for missions was sent through a wire transfer to a bank account to withdraw as cash. Mostly to keep their mission as untraceable as possible, but also to control the Widows by only ever giving them enough to get through their assignment.

Running away never worked out for most who tried, anyway.

Clint nudged her a moment later. "C'mon, let's get you sat down okay?"

"Where?"

Clint shrugged more dramatically than needed as he once again used his arms to gesture to the open plan floor where some tables were taken and some sofas around a fire-place hosted people as well. Other tables and some overstuffed leather chairs remained vancant.

"Wherever the heart desires, Nat. No assigned seating required. I'll wait for the order -- why don't you find somewhere for us to sit?"

Natasha wanted to do something other than that. People hardly bothered her in most circumstances -- people had been her job for her entire life. But she was not used to people in a casual context where there was no target to watch out for, no enemies to ensure weren't around with you.

But her feet were moving anyway, avoiding the high traffic tables and definitely shying away from the social circle the fireplace seemed to attract.

She found an empty table near the back close to the hallway leading to the bathrooms where the volume wasn't so thick and where her back could sit comfortably where less amounts of threats were.

She sat awkwardly, arms crossing across the table as she waited. Her eyes floated around the small but busy shop and took in the scene. A mother handing her child a small lidded cup of chocolate milk, a delighted look in the kiddo's eyes, as she adjusted her bag and grabbed her own cup of coffee and started leading the child out the door.

"Clint!" a low-sung voice called out clearly. Clint practically skipped to the counter where two different drinks awaited him as he thanked the barista and turned around on his heel with a swerve.

He spotted Natasha pretty quickly and danced through the crowd -- but he actively involved himself in people instead of avoiding them. He said cheerful "excuse me's!" and a very scolded "pardon" to an elderly couple he nudged the table of as he approached.

"That was a lot of foot work when you could have walked around," the Russian told him when he finally made a safe approach with a smug grin.

"What, and not show off my circus-grade balancing act? I don't think so," he retorted with an even wider grin as he set both drinks down with a flourish.

Natasha bit her tongue when a comment almost forced its' way out. Instead she turned her gaze to the two drinks on the table and read their labels. BLACK read one, the other in a clear tall cup with heavy ice, ICED MOCHA.

Clint pulled his toward him and pulled a straw out of nowhere [ later, Natasha would admit she was still impressed by it for a month until she learned his secret to the trick ] and popped it into the drink's lid.

"I cannot believe," he starts, dropping into the chair across from her and leaning back comfortably, "that I bring you to one of the best coffee shops New York City has to offer and you insult me--"

"It is all the same -- the same intentions, yes?" she asked as she brought the hot drink up to her lips. It was bitter like the one or two other times she'd had coffee but this flavor had a hint of hazelnut. Perhaps a different brand?

"Sure, I mean sort of?" Clint scratched the chin scruff he'd began growing in Budapest. "Some people can't stand the bitterness of normal coffee or don't like it hot. That's why there's so many different ways to get it."

"I don't see the point."

"Would you eat pizza the same way as someone who say . . . likes anchovies?"

Natasha lets herself think on it. The one time she had pizza was when she was with Melina and Alexi as a child. She could still remember how melted the cheese was -- that was the type they got. Cheese. Alexi got some sort of "Americanized Everything" as he called it.

She answered with, "I suppose not. Anchovies are not good."

Clint laughed. "Right. Not everyone wants anchovy on pizza but they still want the pizza. The same goes for coffee. They want the coffee but they may not like how bitter or hot it is. So there's different flavors, different ways to make it. Iced, blended, the works."

"I see," Natasha said as she sipped at her bitter, hot coffee while Clint held his not bitter, hot coffee. "What form did you get?"

"I like mine iced with extra chocolate syrup," he told her. He eyed her, grinned, then nudged it closer. "Wanna try?"

She blinked at him. "It is your drink, I have my own."

Clint raised a bloodied [ days old and dried ] eyebrow at her. "So? It doesn't mean there's a contract that legally binds you from tasting it. Just try it. If you don't end up liking it, you know to not get it next time."

Natasha regards the drink for a moment as it was offered. She decided that she's already done so many things that she shouldn't otherwise be doing -- she was no longer working with Dreykov. Dreykov was dead and he could not touch her.

She leaned over and took a sip. It was definitely cold and tasted like coffee but had a chocolate taste and was sweeter than anything she's ever tasted.

"Good? Terrible? Wanna pull your tongue out and burn it?" Clint wondered.

Natasha smiled a little at him. "I think I like it very much."

Over the years, Natasha would keep coming back to this coffee shop. She learned its name and kept it safe — especially when the attack of New York occurred.

It had been destroyed when she got to it but she was able to save everyone inside. They rebuilt and continued on as anyone can do when a disaster strikes and shock that aliens exist have made the human brain barely able to cope.

The first time they opened since the attack was when Natasha decided to try something new. She had been able to do many new things: become an Avenger, work somewhat nicely with other people, and above all: save the world with Tony Stark and not kill him in the process.

She’d been greeted reverently by the staff who had starshine in their eyes and gratitude to give.

It was overwhelming. She wanted to run away and never come back again.

She ordered an iced mocha with extra chocolate syrup, instead. To go — because too many people were starting to come in. Regulars of the store that she’d recognized but ones that now knew her too. It was too much to handle at once and she needed her exterior to stay solid.

They threw in a free pastry — she didn’t see what it was but heard the crinkling of the bag sat down by her as she leaned against the counter. She took her coffee and unwanted bread product of unknown origin and left.

She didn’t return for three weeks.

When she did she made Steve come with her. They’d grown close the more the government had implemented the Avengers program after the attack and had suffered Tony in bogus amounts.

[ They grew to love Tony, too, if only because he knew how to handle the public more than even Steve but also because he was able to make them forget ].

Steve was better at this thing — the superhero persona. He took it in stride and spoke warmly with people when approached, offering conversation and knowing how to slip away from it politely and smoothly.

This time while Steve was talking to a young pretty blonde near the entrance, Natasha ordered a macchiato. She got Steve his enormously detailed drink he’d listed off for her before being taken to the side and she threw in a couple of pie slices. Blueberry.

She almost believed she could stay this time. Her table was open and it was still early enough to enjoy the energy before the morning rush took over and invaded their space.

Natasha turned to Steve and said, “Okay, Captain America, your coffee is getting cold. We should sit down and eat our pies before we get called back.”

A perfect exit, a glance of relief from the blonde hero, and they sat down. Nat facing the front again but for entirely different reasons this time.

She picked at her pie slice with a plastic fork while Steve drank his coffee and ate his with just the right amount of speed to not concern other patrons.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” he told her, looking around comfortably at the shop. It looked somewhat the same rebuilt — perhaps more updated in terms of structure but otherwise not as new as one could come to think. “This is your hideout?”

Natasha played with a blueberry that fell from the crust. “It was.”

Steve regarded her for a silent minute, then sighed and set down his fork. “You’re not settling well with the attention.”

“I’m doing fine.” She didn’t glance up at him. They were the defacto leaders of their little operation even if Fury believed he was. Besides Clint, it was Steve that Nat was starting to confide in for some things.

For others he seemed to read her like an open fucking book that she had previously managed to keep chained and locked tight.

America was making her soft.

“You’re lying,” he decided after a moment, then took a sip of his coffee and said nothing more.

She waited for him to dig further, but he simply went back to his pie and coffee. She watched him suspiciously. “What — no pep talk about how this is my life now? How I should find a way to live with it so that I can better serve the people?”

Steve tapped his chin. “I’d say you’re living with this life in the best way you can, Nat. I don’t exactly know your entire story but I do know that you worked with people like I did but uh —“ he squinted, “oppositely.”

“You can say I killed people, Steve,” she sighed. Her pie was pushed back, uneaten.

Steve nodded. “Okay. You killed people — maybe they didn’t deserve it but for whatever reason you were sent to do it. You didn’t ask questions but you did as you were told. I was in the army and they essentially ran the same rules but we did it on a greater scale in a massive war instead of in the shadows. Killing was in the job.”

“You became Captain America,” Natasha told him bluntly, curling her lip slightly, “A man that brought great comfort and safety to his country and protected them with the serum they never knew he had running in his veins. But they didn’t have to know — because you did good.”

“Sure,” Steve agreed, looking slightly sadder, “and maybe some of the men I killed could’ve been good. Because I didn’t ask.”

Natasha smiled at him, sadly, “I don’t think so, Steve. They let you play publicly like they let the Red Guardian in Russia play.” She tapped her fingers against the table. “I was never meant to be a hero in anyone’s stories. I was always their nightmare and a blacked out mention on the paperwork and files.”

Steve didn’t know what else to say, how to comfort her. That was okay. Natasha wouldn’t know what to do with comfort or gentleness. She strayed away from it like she strayed away from her mistresses beatings in her ballet lessons.

“In truth,” Natasha says, pulling her coffee closer in hopes it will ground her better than she can ground herself, “I needed you here because maybe I struggle being the part of someone’s story that doesn’t bring endless grief and anger.”

She watched now as the customers began going about their business and pretended that Captain America and the Black Widow were just ordinary people among them.

“Right now, I’m just trying to figure out how to find my place in a world that wasn’t initially meant for me.”

She met you after the long, destructive battle that ended with the death of Thanos — and Vision with him. Wanda had vanished and Natasha knew she’d be called in when they found traces of her.

But for now she was home. The drive from the compound was longer than the walk from the Tower but that’s okay.

“Natasha,” Fiona, the manager, greeted with a small smile and quiet demeanor. “Welcome back. I saw what you did in Wakanda. What you and the Avengers all did.”

Natasha smiles in return, dipping her head in acknowledgement. “Ah, news travels fast now. It was a group effort.”

“I’m glad your name got cleared by the Accords. It wasn’t right,” she continued, shaking her head stiffly, “After all you did. You and Captain America. It simply wasn’t right,” she repeated.

“It’s okay,” Natasha told her with a relaxed stance as she put her hands into her jacket pockets. She was somewhat truthful. It was okay — the fight with Thanos had forgiven a lot of things.

The government had turned their head and seemingly forgotten who their named fugitives were. Lost the paperwork and welcomed their beloved heros back as though it never happened.

The other half of Natasha and the others — the halves that had sacrificed a lot of themselves over the years — were still angry and demanding more.

“It’s being taken care of,” the redhead-turning-blonde continued as she graced an easy smile toward Fiona. “I’m just happy to be home. I missed this place.”

“We missed you too! We kept your streak for what you’ve tried and what you haven’t,” the small barista exclaimed, crouching down and digging under some shelves presumably.

She pulled out a white board that was somewhat on the verge of being erased with all the scuffs it had on its writing. But thankfully it was still legible. She was on course for trying the caramel apple mocha next.

She went with that. “Frappe or cappe?”

Natasha thought for a moment. “Let’s do it as a frappe,” she decided, pulling out her wallet and handing over the sleek black credit card labelled with the large STARK INDUSTRIES on top.

Fiona swiped it once before handing it back, “It’ll be out very soon,” she said as she hopped over to the machines to start making her order.

Natasha meandered over to the pickup counter, finding a spot on the corner to lean against and pull out her phone. The chubby, slobbery face of Nathaniel grinning next to Cooper and Lila greeted her when she looked at her Lock Screen.

She had one text from Tony regarding her rooms at the compound needing to be Clint-proofed [ “Why are you trying to keep me out of your life?” Clint bemoaned when he called her from the blocked off vents later that night ].

She sent a quick text, telling Tony to add flamethrowers to the vent walls if needed to keep the Hawkeye from breaking the damn thing.

Tony only sent back a devil emoji followed by three fire emojis.

Natasha snorted and pocketed her phone as Fiona came over capping the top of her drink, extra whipped cream spilling out the top.

“Here you go,” she chirped proudly as she slid over the drink. “I did add a little of the spice that we use for our pumpkin flavored drinks. It’s really good with this one too.”

“I trust your judgement, Fiona,” Natasha said as she took the drink in hand and smiled. “Thank you. I’ll let you know how I like it.”

“Please do! Your reviews keep us busy.”

Natasha turned and tapped the cup with her fingers as she looked for her table. It was busy already this morning but Natasha had quickly learned that blending in could be as easy or as difficult as she made it.

She said hello to some people who greeted her first, and made some small conversations. The regulars knew she liked to keep to herself until she finished her drink, however, and left her alone with just a smile and short greeting.

But she came to a stop shortly.

Someone was at her table, littering the surface with notebooks and a textbook opened that they seemed to be deeply focused on.

Natasha kept walking towards her table cautiously, suddenly greeted with a new challenge in her comfort zone.

Small talk was an effort — but maybe —

You looked up and they struck Natasha like a speeding car with no intentions to stop. They were so brown — your eyes. Rich in the color and fierce in the cold New York sun.

She expected shock when you realized who she was. Some sort of spluttering hello.

But you only looked slightly irked as you pulled out an AirPod she didn’t see you wearing before and said, “Why the hell are you staring at me?”

This was the worst place for you to have chosen to study — especially since you chose to do it during the height of Winter Break.

Kate had insisted on its perfect aura, the warmth it was saturated in. You called her dramatic and she didn’t answer any of your texts the rest of the night other than to spam emojis at every message you sent her.

Whatever, you thought, as you settled at a table with your newly ordered dark chocolate frappe. It was five in the morning with no sun, few to no people, and sugar and caffeine to keep you going now even if it led to the inevitable crash later.

You got to work with pulling your textbook out and beginning to take extremely detailed notes that you can make even more detailed study cards on at a later date.

It was hours before an intrusion broke you from your study fever. It wasn’t a forceful one, either, but it demanded attention enough that it had you pulling focus after hours of studying with no end in sight.

You pointedly ignored it as best you can, hoping that your music and the lack of eye contact would send a strong and clear message: leave me alone, I don’t wish for human contact.

The message went undelivered as did the feeling of being watched. When you wrote the same bullet point down twice, your eye twitched and you finally gave in.

Removing your AirPod and breaking your peace when the bustle and surroundings of the shop filtered into your space, you stared back with no motivation to hide how irate you were.

The words came out long before your brain could process who, exactly, you were talking to.

“Why the hell are you staring at me?” you hissed out. Your eyes dragged upward just as the sentence fully formed and you suddenly wished you were not so eager.

The Black Widow was staring at you, apparently. Dressed down from battle gear in a pair of jeans and a soft turtleneck, long hair down in waves. But that was the Black Widow without a doubt.

You couldn’t back down now, you’d lose all respect if she had any when approaching you to begin with. No — you held your ground. You had to.

Green eyes, green darker than gardens and well-cared for parks, crossed yours. Surprise lit up within them briefly — but it was gone as quickly as it came.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said perfectly polite, with an apologetic smile forming on her features. “I didn’t even mean to just stare like I did. Sorry.”

Really? You rubbed at your aching temple and glanced down at your phone. 8:45. You hadn’t moved for a good near four hours at the least. Your coffee was only half finished, and your hand writing had grown less organized on the sheets of paper beneath you.

“It’s — it’s fine. I didn’t realize anybody was there. Or what time it was.” You flipped the textbook shut and clenched and unclenched your fingers. “No wonder you were staring. I must have looked like a zombified student.”

A soft laugh rose from the woman across from you, feet crossing as she stuck a hand into her jacket pocket. “Not at all. It actually had nothing to do with you, I must confess.”

You gave her a confused look. “What? Then why all the staring? If anything I should be giving you the wide eyed awestruck look.”

The Black Widow in all her glory and turtleneck sweaters suddenly seemed to grow shy. The smile remained but she tapped her fingers rhythmically against her cup.

“It’s moreso that you’re at the table I usually sit at when I come here,” she confessed quietly, embarrassed at such a small thing to have been caught confused over. “But it’s been a while since I’ve been here so I should’ve expected that the table was likely to be used like I used it.”

You blinked at her confession to you, now more curious and being drawn out of your desire to over-study than ever. “Oh — right you were on the run for a while.”

“Yes,” she confirmed simply, lips thinning into a line as she glanced behind her.

“You can sit here if you want,” you said, breaking the silence and deciding you didn’t want her to have to leave. You moved your stuff. “I’ve been here since five. I mean, if you’re fine waiting while I finish my coffee I can be out of your hair.”

“I don’t mind, if you’re sure.” Natasha pulled out the chair and gave one more long glance toward the shop behind her before sitting down with her back to them and starting to slowly sip her coffee. “May I ask what you’re studying?”

“Oh. Sure. I’m majoring in electrical engineering with a minor in physics,” you said, turning the textbook slightly so she could see the title of it.

“That’s a heavy major,” she mused, but didn’t say it in a way most usually did when you told them. “What made you want to go into that?”

You felt your cheeks turning red at the question — something you normally have no problem answering but now do considering who it is asking. “Well to be honest with you —“

“Honesty is always best,” the older woman agreed in a drawl, amusement glittering across her face.

You puffed, still red, and redder more when Natasha’s amusement seemed to grow upon realizing why without you saying yet, “Okay. I’ve always been sort of interested in engineering. But Stark Industries is literally paving a new path into technology we otherwise wouldn’t break ground on. Imagine what we could do for people in war-torn nations with it? What about turning it to medical use for progress towards incurable diseases? Anything is possible because it hasn’t been done yet. I want to see it, to try it. Like Tony Stark was able to do with that access.”

You were expected to be given a lot of incredulous responses when you told people your ideals for your major. Your expectations were met — but Natasha simply looked thoughtful as she sipped her drink.

“A passion like that could get you anywhere you want,” Natasha told her. “You have dreams that most people give up on. If they have the technology why haven’t they done it?”

A question you loved answering. “Because they don’t have anyone fighting to get it used in those specific areas, to be produced for those situations,” you replied, leaning closer, “Don’t you see? It needs someone or multiple people to see it for what it can do if given the time and the resources.”

Natasha tilted her head curiously, studying you with an unreadable expression, “You think you’re that person? The one who can make the change?”

A flush of defiance coursed through you at the question. “If nobody else will, who better than myself?”

“Where are you going to school?”

“I go to MIT. I’m currently on my winter break.”

“And yet you’re studying like you have a test tomorrow,” Natasha concluded. She glanced from the scurried notes to the textbook and back to you, as if trying to read you out and get your secrets.

“I’m on a scholarship and otherwise wouldn’t be there,” you admitted carefully, chin lifting, “It was a lot of hard work to receive it and losing it isn’t an option.”

Natasha rested a hand on her fist — calloused from whatever dark past and Avengering has rewarded her — and regarded you with a startling feline-like expression.

“Working hard and overworking are different, that will be important to remember. I didn’t know the difference when I was young either.”

“What made you learn?” You ask carefully.

She pursed her lips and stared behind you at the hallway that held no interesting object to look upon. “I did ballet as apart of a program. I found it fun until my instructor made my ankles bleed every single day for every mistake I made each session.”

You swallowed your shock down and fisted your hands together on the table. “She sounds like a fucking cunt.”

Natasha barked out a laugh, the glazed distance disappearing and replaced by a spark as she returned to focus on you instead. A stray lock of hair lowered across her forehead as she relaxed slightly, “She was, I assure you. I did not know the difference between brutality and hardworking traits until I came to the states. Sometimes,” she finished, “I still do not and must be reminded that I am no longer a tool for anyone’s use that I do not myself see purpose in.”

“Wouldn’t you consider the Avengers program being a tool?” You wondered aloud without meaning to.

Her lips twisted, perhaps impressed by your bravery despite the accidental slip. “That is why you must choose carefully what games you want to play and with who. Who to be a tool for and who to destroy.”

“Are you saying I should take more breaks?” You finally ask.

She grins smugly as she removes her chin from her fist and leans back in her chair like a fat cat. “Well done, Malyshka. I like playing with you.”

You pondered her words and sort of wanted to know what got you into this situation where the Black Widow was giving you confusing advice.

Natasha and you were comfortably silent as you two sipped on your coffees together. You think you like whose is without the grandeur that the media tends to flash onto her. She’s thoughtful and quiet — and holy shit you just met and hardly know her.

Natasha suddenly broke your peaceful silence, looking very serious as she says, “I know a guy I can connect you to at Stark Industries when you graduate if you’d like to get your feet off the ground. He’d probably be impressed with you.”

You stared blankly at her, brain shutting down for ten seconds and rebooting in that time.

“What.”

Natasha played with her empty coffee cup, nonchalantly saying, “I know a guy —“

“I heard the first time,” you said, shaking your head a little bit to clear it, “You’re talking about Tony Stark. You — you’re willing to put a word in for me?”

Natasha nodded once with finality. “Yes. You remind me of Tony in ways that are all good — and yet you lack the parts of Tony that make me want to kill him.”

“Thanks?”

“You’re welcome.”

“So . . . Like what’s the catch?” You asked, stacking your notebook on top of your textbook and fiddling around to keep from exploding. “Because it’s weird to me that the Black Widow is sitting down across from me and offering me a gigantic opportunity.”

“Once in a life time,” she corrects, “But there isn’t really a catch. Just a request — the offer will still be open and I’ll ensure Tony gets you on his ledger when you graduate and apply.”

“Sure,” you said, pretty much willing to do anything.

“May I have your number?”

It was so clearly an unexpected request and even you could see Natasha's confident request was followed by tinted cheeks and more taps on her empty cup.

You gave Natasha Romanoff your number.

Your first date with Natasha was at the coffee shop — where you met at the table. You spent hours talking like the day before except for this time you got to know each other a bit more on a deeper level.

You learned she adopted a cat straight off the street that wouldn’t leave her alone. A small black creature with wide yellow eyes. The photos she showed you led to you seeing photos of her nieces and nephews through the Clint Barton.

“He’s chubby little dude,” you noted as you scooted your chair closer to her to see the photo better.

“That’s what I said!” she exclaims, beaming at you and nudging your shoulder with hers.

“Just look at him,” you continued, “those cheeks say it all.”

You learned a little about her and she you. You had similar tastes in music and entertainment, but when it came to movies it seemed you were at an impasse.

This became evident when she showed up to your apartment for the second date and flashed two tickets to a new horror as snow fell around you both.

Your head dropped in defeat as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders and led you to her car. “I promise on Tony’s suit that I will protect you from the big bad.” Then she opened the passenger side door for you.

With a heavy sigh and a suffering look sent her way, you plop into her car and wait for her to shut the door.

She was a pretty decent protector at the movies. She armed you with sugary drinks and snacks and lifted the armrest between you two and opened an invitation into her arms at any point when it got scary.

For you it did not take very long at all. You dived into her side and curled so tight when the first brutal murder flashed on the large screen. Natasha was smart, Natasha was clever. She wrapped her arm around you as you buried your face in her neck and grinned as she watched the movie without so much as flinching.

They went to the coffee shop after to get the remaining heebeejeebies out of your system by chasing it down with caffeine. You notice Natasha thinking it over before ordering a plain mocha latte.

“You ordered something different this time?” you asked her after she paid for both your orders like she had at the movies.

Natasha rubbed the back of her neck. “It’s something I’ve been working on. For a lot of my life I was devoid of choices. They were made for me. This helps me remember that decisions I make are my own, nobody else’s.”

“One unique coffee at a time,” you murmured as you brought your straw to your lips and felt something flutter in your chest.

“One unique coffee at a time,” she echoed, meeting your gaze as she brought her own drink to her lips.

The third date was the only one left before you would be set to return to MIT. You were firm on making plans for this one and Natasha didn’t argue.

It was planned for after Christmas and New Year’s — somewhere you had to begrudgingly drag Kate over to help you set up.

“A date? Good enough to go here?” she asked as you scrolled the website for the restaurant.

“I really like her,” you say, licking your lips and unsure of what else to tell her in regards to Natasha. “She walked right up to me and . . . I don’t know. She sort of just missile fired into my life.”

Kate snorts, but leans against your pillows and nibbles at her cuticles. “Okay. This is a place I think is good if you really really like her. It’s expensive.”

You checked your bank account earlier. You had enough fun money left to spend on this date. “It’s fine. I can do it.”

Kate tapped a few things into her phone before handing it to you. “Then make the reservation.”

Natasha had to pick you up from your place — considering you didn’t have a car in New York at the moment. She was beautifully dressed in a styled pant-suit with her hair curled into a bun. She had some sort of watch you thought looked familiar but couldn’t remember the brand name of.

You ran your hands down your glittery dress and hoped it would be enough to impress her. She came to greet you, reaching out to take your hands. “You said dress nice and you end up dressing nicer than me,” Natasha comments.

You scoffed, fussing with your bracelet to distract yourself from her unwavering gaze and how it made you blush. “T-thank you. You’re so . . . Yeah.”

“Yeah?” she echos, amusement and glee creeping into her tone as she guides you by the hand to her car.

“Yeah.”

“Glad I got the yeah approval.” She settles you in and punches in the address you give her.

The restaurant is very nice — far nicer than even you usually were able to attend despite your parents’ wealth and reputation in the city. You stayed home from the nicer events often with a nanny.

Dinner was started with a set course of appetizers followed by a few dishes brought for the main course. Dessert was the most popular dish and it brought you and Natasha closer and sitting together instead of facing one another so you could enjoy sharing the food while giggling to yourselves and talking.

An entire bottle of wine had been left in an iced bucket at your table and the both of you indulged in a couple of glasses.

“You hid in a vent for five days?” You squawked at her, failing to hide your laughter behind your hand and thus forced to set down your wine glass.

“It was our only option, to be fair,” the redhead admitted, smirking. “We had the entire city in a state of disarray and we had to find a way to lay low for a bit.”

“I can’t imagine the discomfort between two people up there!”

“It was sort of fun. Clint was the first person who was actually . . .” Natasha pauses as she considers what to say next. “. . . Who actually spoke to me like a human, I suppose. Not a soldier or a robot.”

You frowned, lacing your fingers with hers. “That’s terrible, Nat.”

She tilted her head at you. “No, that’s just what my life was. I didn’t know any better, really. Didn’t see what life could be like if I knew what was out in the world other than cruelty.”

You ran a thumb over her the top of her palm. “I’m glad you got out and that you’re here now.”

“Me too, Malyshka,” she agrees, and meaning it to the depth of her soul, “me too.”

She drove you home and held your hand the entire time. It was hard to let you go even as she got out to walk around the front of her own car and help you out and walk you to the door of your building.

“Well, this is me.” You tried to sound cheerful, but there was a sadness laced in the tone thick enough for Natasha to detect.

“Will you let me drive you to the airport tomorrow?” she murmured, her fingers loosening from yours so her hands can trail up your arms, fingers marking the outline of your neck, and finally cupping your cheeks.

You locked gazes with her and smiled warmly as you leaned in, seeking out her closeness just as she did with you.

Natasha was not an expert with how to handle what you made her feel. It took everything in her training to control herself — so she wouldn’t run from the emotions that pelted her.

It was like having her ribcage peeled open and her heart exposed for you to see. Natasha despised it as much as she adored it — the rush it gave her followed by the nerve-wracking fear.

You had the sole ability to tear her apart because she’s giving you the chance. She was warned at a young age never to give anyone that opportunity lest they get you killed by betrayal or by weakness.

It was a cardinal rule Natasha never broke. Even when she got out she never sought out sex, romance, connection. It had the power to destroy everything she was.

And here she was giving you the paperwork to the instructions.

But you wrapped your hands so incredibly gently around hers as they caressed you, nuzzling into the touch and inhaling in her scent and just . . . Simply being there. Both of you. Together.

“Malyshka?” she murmured, nose nudging yours to grab your attention. “Airport?”

Your eyes flew open, still hazy from the moment that overwhelmed the both of you. You sighed.

“I have to be there by six to catch by flight, Nat,” you finally told her, shaking your head slowly in her hands. “Too early.”

“I’ll be there at four.” Natasha leaned in, beginning to press soft kisses to your cheeks. One on each one. Then your forehead.

You furrowed your brow. “Nat, no. That’s way too early.”

“I’m an Avenger, baby.” Nat only pulled back enough to grin at you with that trademark smile of hers. Smug and knowing like she was.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. Four thirty.”

“Okay.” She grinned. “Four.”

Then you leaned up and kissed her first, shaking her confidence and surprising her. One hand dropped from where it held your jaw and fell instead to grasp your hip to steady herself.

It was the most amazing thing she’d ever experience since leaving the Red Room. She’d done many things in her newfound freedom — but this . . .

You eventually had to pull back for air and she leaned forward to brush an errant piece of hair back behind your ear. So soft, so gentle.

Your Natasha.

“I’ll see you at four.”

You walked off the stage with a diploma -- a piece of paper telling the world that you were now a credited electrical engineer. Your parents promised to make it and then backed out the day before with apologies and a graduation gift: money. Perhaps in hopes to buy your forgiveness.

Kate flew down though and she hugged you so tight when you walked out into the crowd of thousands as the stadium emptied after the ceremony. You were hot under the robes and you wanted to go change but Kate wanted to embrace you in a death grip first.

"So fucking proud, duuuude," she said, shaking you before releasing you with a beam. "Look at you! My baby girl, all grown up."

You rolled your eyes. "Thanks, mom. You're not embarrassing me at all."

"I should hope not! It would be really awkward since I plan on dragging you to every single bar we can manage until we wake up somewhere the next morning," she said with the Kate-stamped seriousness.

You winced. "Kate, I'm not sure --"

She twitched, then grinned. "I'm joking. Your shit's already packed at your dorm and ready to be flown home. Plan tonight is something entirely low-key."

"First of all." You held up a finger. "How and why did you pack up my stuff already? I had the week to get my dorm cleared. I was going to drive it down with a rental and have Natasha help me move it into storage."

"Oh," Kate clapped her hands, "that reminds me--"

"Hi, Malyshka." That voice you'd been in love with since at least March, when she stayed up late with you while you tried not to break down during sessions of studies.

Natasha, who made the distance work by using her superhero mojo to fly down in her own jet to see you for a day and just hang out when she knew you needed it.

Natasha who was beautiful and followed by a younger, curious blonde with braids as she came up to you. She held an expression of pride as she took you in and --

You burst into tears when you saw her, "Nat?"

The blonde looked perplexed and leaned back a bit, expressing loudly in a thick accent, "Does your face always make her cry. Sistra?"

Sistra. Sister. Natasha had told you about her sister Yelena who she'd reunited with while she was on the run. Who helped her take down the Red Room and Dreykov for real this time. It was a story that Nat had told her on one of her visits to you and as she was opening up more. She told you that Yelena was her entire world before and that night expressed that now you were too.

"Yelena," you spluttered, gesturing to the wary ex-assassin in an attempt to hug her.

"Hello," she greeted awkwardly, tapping your arm with a heavy hand. "I see you know who I am. Natasha." She side-eyed her sister accusingly, but Nat ignored her in favor of embracing you.

"You looked so gorgeous up there. I was very proud watching you walk that stage and keeping your chin up." She kissed the top of your head and held you close as you finally were able to hug your partner again for the first time in months.

Kate and Yelena stood off to the side awkwardly next to one another. "I did not invite you," Kate mentioned, squinting at Yelena.

Yelena sniffed. "Natasha goes, I go. Simple. What are you? Kate?"

"Kate," the brunette confirmed, "Bishop."

"Kate Bishop," Yelena repeated, letting the words flow off her tongue smoothly. A mischievous glint lost on you and Natasha but not on Kate started to glow in her eye. "Do you like mac'n'cheese?"

The look Kate gave her would've had you on the floor in tears if you weren't already in tears in Natasha's arms.

"Let's get you to a hotel, yeah?" Natasha murmured soothingly. She kisses your head again. "You can get to know Yelena if you'd like. We can all watch a movie together."

Nothing sounded better.

I will not be discussing how much fucking trouble this gave me. just take it and pls enjoy it.

PART TWO

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #femslash #clint barton #yelena belova #kate bishop #natasha romanoff x reader

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ruruvxz · 5 months ago

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what is making out with newjeans Minji would be like ? Oneshot idea

“DRAIN ME”

Roommate!Kim Minji x Law Major!Reader

↳synopsis: College was hard enough especially ever since your new roommate moved in with a high and mighty attitude. Always berating you for your life choices and the people you constantly surround yourself with; she was the epitome of annoying. But you couldn’t help but be… enamored by her in some weird way.

↳cw: classic roommate troupe, swearing, overachieving, making out, Minji is stuck up, reader is also stuck up, both kinda annoy me, pure fluff, slightly sexual themes

↳wc:2.6k

a/n: how does… how does someone write a kissing scene what the fuck heuahhfhhhhh, i was a little bit too embarrassed to write this. kinda halfassed but idk what else to add anther … Also this is the 5TH rewrite for this Minji fic im trying to cope with the news that they might disband rn.

Harvard was hard enough to get to, especially with the scholarship you broke your back for, no one deserved to be here more than you. Needless to say, you found it awfully annoying whenever, Kim Minji, your roommate who was an undergraduate in the arts section, would belittle your talents—always having snarky to say when you couldn't understand the lecture, and insisting that her life was far more complicated than yours. Not to mention how much of a slacker she was during house tasks, often refusing to do any chores even if she was the sole factor in the apartment was a mess.

Minji often rebutted all your complaints with the same excuse stating that "she shouldn't have to help because your friends were always over, and that they can do it." Which wasn't all that false, you did have someone over almost every day, and you knew she didn't like them because of how loud they were, but that's what made it fun. Seeing the scowl on her face whenever she opened the door another batch (of completely different people) walked in with no remorse. Or whenever she avoided talking to any of them because she simply hated being around them. A stern believer that people like you and all the people who accompanied you were plastic and fake.

It wasn't until she called them out to you that you reached your boiling point. "None of them actually like you Y/N, how do you expect every single person to actually fuck with you like that, let alone the hundreds of people you constantly have over." She spat out, reaching her hand out to grab the trash your guest left all over the living room, Minji didn't even have the curtsey to look up at you while she spoke.

"What is your problem, Kim." You scowled as you grabbed the empty beer cans; shoving them into the black plastic bag you were lugging around. To be fair Minji was far nicer than you thought, even if you were the one who threw the party without her knowledge, she patiently camped out in her room, only coming out once it ended to clean up beside you. It wasn't all that out of character since she was the nicest one between the both of you, always offering to help anyone in need, for example, right now. Minji was somehow so endearing in her weird way, that you almost felt bad taunting her every single moment you could. I mean, she reciprocated the banter, so who really is at fault here?

Minji just scoffed as she pushed her glasses back up from the bridge of her nose, she was about to say something before cutting herself off with a heavy sigh. "Nothin— nothing, they just..." She slurred looking up at your scrunched face before looking back down, continuing to throw trash into the bag. "Y'know what— never mind, forget what I said," Minji mumbled, looking back at her annoyed before picking up a pillow and chucking it at her. She let out a soft yelp before looking up at you, ready to attack Minji couldn't help but notice how you broke out into laughter once the pillow collided with her face.

"Hey, what was that for!" Minji scowled as she dropped the trash bag next to her knees, you, being you, continued to laugh harder as her expression tensed. She grabbed another pillow from the couch and flung it at you, hitting your shoulder with a heavy thud. "Woah! What the!" You bite back rubbing your shoulder with your arm in pain, not realizing she would throw it too hard she reached her hand out, not before she laughed her ass off. "Hah— I'm so sorry—" Minji said before bursting out laughing as well, grabbing the pillow you threw at her from the ground and placing it back neatly on the couch.

Laughing at her action, "Why are you saying sorry? Aren't I the one who threw the first hit?" grabbing the pillow she threw, you dropped it haphazardly on the couch and walked away from her. "Not that." Minji cackled as she fixed the couch again, "I mean, yeah..." she cut her thought off "What I meant to get at, is I'm sorry for the other thing I said."

You stopped cleaning up the trash from the floor and peeked your head up, firstly why was she apologizing for anything, secondly, out of all people, she was apologizing to you. "Uhm, I'm sorry too I guess..." You rubbed your nape uncomfortably, taking your gaze off of her, "Y'know, for everything." Sighing you continued, feeling terrible because most of the stress she had coming back home was due in fact how horrible of a roommate you've been. "I haven't been— the best." It hurt a part of your ego to say that, as out of people you were apologizing back to your art freak of a roommate, Kim Minji.

"Thank you for acknowledging that Y/N." Minji exhaled as she looked back on all the times your bare presence had been obnoxious towards her. Despite understanding how dreadful you've become towards her, you still couldn't let that slide, who was she to talk like that towards you anyway? "Hey!" Was the only that could come out of your mouth, until Minji eventually cut you off. "I'm being honest Y/N, I'm glad you know, and that's not in a sarcastic way whatsoever."

The way both of you stood slightly as you continued your cleaning task was unbearably awkward, trying to figure out what to say next after that comment was gruesome. It finally ended when you had to bright idea to turn a new leaf with your roommate, could you go through your whole college experience hating someone you lived with? And to be fair she wasn't all that bad, she cleaned up to herself, she was mild-mannered, and she didn't actively seek conflict. (unlike you.) "Ahem... so Minji you busy after this?" You asked as you tied the black plastic bag and leaned it against the wall.

She followed in your footsteps as she chucked the last few beer bottles into her bag, tying the note protectively tight and chucking it aside. "I have an anthropology exam to study for..." She thoughtfully answered, you pouted at the thought that Kim Minji, of all people, was going to turn you down. "But that's in a few days, so I guess I'm free?" She moved across from you, heading to the kitchen to wash her hands, coming back to talk to you face to face. "Well, uhm, do you want to watch a movie or something— like to get to know each other... or something." You interrogated, trying your best to be nonchalant about the whole thing. "Sure, that couldn't hurt." She shrugged her shoulders as she made her way to the couch, and you soon followed behind her.

Needless to say, the whole interaction was more awkward than the both of you apologizing to one another. The movie picking was terrible as you both seemingly couldn't agree on what to watch, finally landing on The Idea of You. During the beginning, part felt as if you were having a dopamine cleanse, everything was so oddly boring, and without having any form of enjoyment like stress eating popcorn, you were going insane. It wasn't until the first kissing scene of the film that things got interesting, you were so bored you could only find entertainment from making fun of her expressions throughout. This scene in particular made you more intrigued by her as she was blushing madly while watching the protagonist deeply kiss the main lead, almost as if she's never experienced that herself.

"Pst, Minji." You leaned into her, jolting as your head hovered next to her shoulder "You good? You look like you're bugging out." She looked at you as you laughed quietly, still focused on the movie, only taking a small gaze at her as you leaned away.

"What." She scoffed, covering her face with her hand, "You're crazy. Just watch the fucking movie."

"Alright, just saying." You chuckle as you lean forward, pretending to go back to being 'interested' in the movie.

As the movie reached the peak of its raunchiest moments, Minji failed to hide her blush more and more, having trouble focusing as she stared down at your leaning posture and back at the movie. She failed to focus on the actors, finally reaching her breaking point, "What is with this movie, what is the whole point of recording a whole scene like this..." She muttered loud enough for you to hear. You gave her a noisy laugh, before leaning back up and resting your back on the cushions. "Dunno, maybe that's what does good nowadays— speaking of which, why don't you ever invite people over to y'know..."

"To what?" She scoffed, folding her arms and looking back at you, clearly offended by the insinuation that she was a geeky dirtbag who had the inability to attract suitors. "Not everyone's like you Y/N." Minji insulted, coming back a little more sleazy than intended.

"Oh? And what does that mean?" You pouted, stretching your neck wondering what snarky comment she would say next. "Nothing, I didn't mean it like that, I just hate when people bring that up." She took back her words quickly, turning her head away from you and back at the movie ahead, watching the two actors absolutely go at it. "Makes me feel like I haven't accomplished everything I 'should've already accomplished', catch my drift?"

"Ah, so you think that just because you haven't done anything inherently explicit it feels like you're less than an adult?"

"Woah, that was a quick evaluation, how'd you get that?"

"I mean, I do minor in psychodynamic psychology, maybe that's why? Hah… Sorry didn't wanna sound like a major nerd there, but I don't think you hold base your opinion on yourself over something you can't do at the moment." You spoke, turning your head towards her as she studied you, looking at inspecting every single one of your facial features before snapping out of the trance she was in. “I guess, well if it means anything, you’d ace that course if you kept up with those assumptions.” You both chuckle loudly at her comment, not noticing how both of you are slowly leaning closer to one another.

Minji was closer to your face, the tip of her nose colliding with yours as she inched your lips to hers, the soft huffs as she glanced down at you before finally interlocking your mouths together were exhilarating. Her touch was soft and hungry, she wanted to conquer every part of your lips; not wanting this moment to slip her by, she reached out and grabbed the back of your head gently. Pushing you farther down her lips, Minji felt herself getting lost in you, her eyes squeezed shut as she was in a deep state of euphoria. Before pulling you away from her, she slid her hand off your cheek and back, creating distance.

Her heavy breathing was apparent as she tried to gain composure, stunned by her actions she let out a meek cough, staring straight into your soul to gain back any confidence left within her. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what had gotten into me." Minji tittered, pulling away fully her hands gripping the section of denim on her thighs, you didn't know what was going through her head right now as she fumbled her gaze away from yours. It took a long moment for Minji to open back up, only muttering a few words before clamming up again "I wouldn't blame you if you ended up moving out—"

She couldn't continue as her breath sharpened and took focus on how your hands rested on top of hers, gently rubbing her fingertips, taking a count of how soft she felt under your touch. Smiling, you answered back, confused as to why you would ever do such a thing (despite despising her moments ago, and being quite literally on the verge of signing your lease termination to get away from her) "Why would I?"

Minji was astonished by your sudden change in attitude because if she were to ever be this raw and genuine towards you any time before this, you'd curse her out and avoid any contact after. This was different, you seemed so... empathetic and sweet, it made her heart thump out of her chest, staring at your lips was not making it any better for her. She lacked any self-restraint as she interconnected your lips with hers once more, with much more haste. Minji yearning for your touch, pitifully grabbed onto your hands, holding them tightly with a slight shake.

Despite doing much more sinister things with other people, you felt as if you were flung back to high school and having your first kiss, it was all so electrifying. You didn't want to admit to yourself that you were enjoying this a little more than she was, but gosh, does this woman know what she's doing? From her timid (even borderline, loser-ish) personality, you wouldn't expect her to be dancing her tongue with yours. "For something oddly explicit, she's very delicate..." you wondered to yourself. Finally taking charge, you pull your hands away from hers, Minji pulls back regretfully, questioning why you stopped holding her.

It wasn't until you cupped her cheeks with both your hands and pulled her down on the couch, that she finally got a hint. Minji's cheeks burned up, she was able to rest her elbows to leverage herself up only to be met with your face inches away from hers. She was stunned by the visual you pinned her against and was unable to speak as you kissed the tip of her nose, anticipating more only to be cut off by you pushing yourself off of her. “Woah! Okay, let’s end that there today.” You cut yourself off, not wanting your relationship to be another victim of hookup culture, knowing that you’d be stuck with her for the next few months.

“What…” She furrowed her eyebrows, her cheeks still flushed with a pink hue, “Don’t get me wrong, I’d want to continue, this, with you. But I don’t want the consequences of being in an unhealthy, uncomfortable, and unethical relationship with my roommate, whom I was getting closer to.” You coughed, realizing how fast you were speaking right now, Minji who was still under you processed everything you were spewing out. “So what I’m getting at, is that instead of wanting to sleep with me… you’d rather just have me as company first?”

“Correct, unlike anyone I’ve been with, I’d like to get to know you first before committing to anything that sexual.” You nodded, pulling yourself off of her and sitting back normally on the couch “Not because I don’t want to, I just wrong want to take it too far.” Sheepishly admitting as you watched her sit back down next to you, a bit embarrassed by the situation. “Truly what I want to take away from this, and what I took away from spending this time with you, even if it was fairly short, was to get to know you as you. To take in what you’re capable of and understand if you can handle someone like me.” Minji stared at you in awe, the complete shift from a prudish foulmouthed popular campus student, who couldn’t barely hold her own emotions, was now so prim and proper.

Minji wondered if maybe it was her who did that, or maybe that’s how you were this whole time, but it took one day to bring that out of you. Whatever it was, she didn’t want this moment to slip by her! “Hmm, well then, take what you want.”

#idol x female reader #idol x reader #female reader #gxg #newjeans imagines #newjeans x reader #girl group imagines #minji imagines #kim minji imagines #kim minji fic #kim minji x female reader #kim minji x reader #newjeans fic #Minji fic #Newjeans pls don’t disband im tweaking #newjeans x you #newjeans smau #newjeans ff #minji x reader

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hotshotsxyz · 2 months ago

Text

living lies and compromise

(8b spec) (buddie) (879 words) spoilers for 8x08! set a few days after eddie returns from texas and i still managed to make it angsty :) i bet you'll never guess what band i stole the title from

The knock on Buck’s door isn’t entirely unexpected. He doesn’t know what to do with it, though, doesn’t know how to exist in this strange liminal space where Eddie’s back but everything is still different.

A few months ago, Eddie would’ve used his key and walked straight in. A few months ago, Buck would’ve welcomed him with open arms. As it stands, he hesitates. Just for a moment, but—

It’s been a long time since Buck was hesitant with Eddie. He hates it.

He opens the door, and the smile he greets Eddie with feels brittle and fake.

“Hey, man,” Buck says, trying trying trying to make it come out right. He hears it, though—it doesn’t sound the same.

“Hey,” Eddie replies. He hoists a six pack in the air, and if Buck squints he can almost pretend this is exactly what it used to be. That they’re what they used to be.

“Come—come in,” Buck invites. He can’t remember the last time either of them waited for permission like this.

Eddie swallows visibly and steps into the loft for the first time since—god, he’s not actually sure. Right after Halloween, maybe?

“Thanks,” Eddie says. He drops the beer on the counter but makes no move to grab one.

Silence stretches between them. It’s not uncomfortable, necessarily, but it’s also not the kind that falls when everything that needs to be said is out in the open and everything left can wait.

“I thought you’d be happy to see me,” Eddie says finally, achingly quiet.

Buck shakes his head. “I am, of course I’m happy to see you,” he says.

“Please don’t do that.” Eddie’s eyes are wide and sincere, and if Buck’s not careful—

“Eddie,” he says, pleading, “I am, you have no idea.”

“Then why…” He gestures vaguely at the space between them. Why the distance? Why the reticence? Why aren’t they falling together the way they always have?

Buck bites his lip and steps into Eddie’s space to grab a beer for himself. He retreats, but he doesn’t go far.

He pops the cap off and sighs. “You left,” he says simply.

Eddie stumbles back against the counter. “But I came back,” he says. “And I thought you understood.”

Buck offers him a sad little smile. “I did. I do. But—coming back wasn’t the plan.”

“Did you… not want me to?” Eddie asks, small and a tiny bit incredulous.

“No,” Buck says, watching as Eddie’s disbelief turns to hurt. “I didn’t want you to come back. I needed you to.”

A wounded noise escapes Eddie’s lips. “I did,” he says.

“What about next time?” Buck asks. He wishes he didn’t sound so raw and ragged, but it hardly matters when Eddie’s the one listening.

“What?” He breathes, punched out like a cough.

Buck looks over Eddie’s shoulder, out the window and into the vague glow of night in Los Angeles. He takes a swig of his beer.

“I need you, Eddie, I still—the whole time you were gone it felt like—like I was missing a limb. And I can’t—I can’t keep needing you like this, not if I don’t get to keep you,” Buck admits. “So I just… I have to figure out how to stop. But I can’t do that when you’re here.”

“Don’t,” Eddie says desperately. “Please don’t. I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere. You have me.”

“I’m not sure I know how to survive believing that again,” Buck replies.

Eddie takes a step forward, close enough now that Buck can feel his breath ghosting across his skin.

“Look at me?” he asks.

Buck’s never been able to deny him much of anything.

“I kept looking for you. I’d see something funny and I’d turn, because I wanted to see your reaction. The front door would open, and I kept thinking you were going to be the one to walk through it. Hell, every time I went to the grocery store I wanted to call you to make sure everything we needed was on the list.”

“Eddie,” Buck breathes.

His hand drifts toward Buck’s shoulder, just like it always seems to, but this time it doesn’t stop. Eddie reaches until his fingers are resting against Buck’s neck and his thumb is slowly sweeping across his jaw.

“You need me?” he asks.

Buck nods.

“Good,” Eddie says in a rush of air. “Because I need you too, okay? So please don’t stop, please don’t pull away. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to come with me.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to stay.”

Eddie’s shoulders slump. He takes the last step forward and pulls Buck into a tight hug.

There’s this thing Buck’s been trying not to look at. It’s been growing in size, taking up more and more of his field of vision since the moment Eddie left for Texas. It’s been fuzzy and hard to discern, difficult to ignore but easy to avoid putting a name to. As he melts into Eddie’s arms, though, everything comes into sharp relief.

It’s need. It’s want. It’s love.

And the thing is, Buck knows how this goes. But what the hell? It’ll be a privilege, getting his heart broken by Eddie Diaz.

He clings a little tighter.

#you know when you have something important to do but you decide to write an angsty little spec fic instead? yeah #buddiefic #buddie fic #911fic #911 fic #911 #buddie #fic #abbie writes #911 spoilers

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prettypinkporkchop · 7 days ago

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Rowdy Neighbors

Paul lahote x fem reader

Description: you moved into your own home. Your life has turned calm and easy. One day, the empty house next door became occupied with Paul Lahote. His friends are always there and they're loud! They keep you up sometimes. You and Paul do talk often. He brings your mail to you on rainy days. He comes over to see if you're okay. He imprinted on you, but you have no idea.

Warnings: language, the end is cute as heck, Paul is such a gentleman

☆☆☆☆

You're on your couch with a throw blanket draped over you. You have your laptop open on your lap. You're relaxing and sipping some wine.

Your doorbell rings.

You smile, knowing exactly who it is. It's that sexy ass neighbor you got. You close your laptop and place it on the couch and stand up. You make your way to the door and open it.

There he is, smirking and leaning on your doorframe. He's shirtless even though it's 50 degrees out. "Morning, beautiful." He says.

You blush and nearly buckle your knees. "Good morning, Paul. Need something?" You move away from the door to let him in.

He shakes his head and doesn't come inside. "Nah, just came to ask a question real quick." He smiles.

"Okay? What you got?" You lean your head on the door, looking in his beautiful brown eyes.

He stares for a moment, seeming lost. But, he coughs and comes back to life. "My boys are coming tonight. Yes, I know you hate that they're loud, and I'm sorry. I can't control them..." He chuckles.

You just shake your head with a smile.

"Anyway, my question is, do you want to come hang out? We're gonna sit outside with a fire and music." He looks at you with hopeful eyes.

You stare into those eyes. The hope, the silent small beg.. you can't say no. "Yes. I'll join you guys. So, uh, any girls gonna be there?" You chuckle awkwardly. "I don't want to be the only girl."

He laughs, his chest moving. He shakes his head. "You're so adorable.. uh.." He looks down and chuckles. "There's gonna be a couple of girls. One named Kim and the other Emily. You'll love them." He bites his lip.

"Ah, okay! Well, I'm down to chill then." You tilt your head with a smile.

"Wow, there for the ladies, huh." He smirks. "You swing that way? Am I not hot enough for you?" He places a hand on his chest in fake hurt.

You bust into laughter, throwing your head back. "Trust me, Paul Lahote. You're.." You stop, blushing. You take a deep breath in and exhale. "I'm not there for them. It's just an added bonus that I can have some girl talk." You smile.

He stares at you, his eyes twinkling. His cheeks turn a small peach color, and he slowly smiles. "Y-yeah! I'll see you then."

----

You shove your hands in your hoodie, walking through the short grass to the house a few feet from yours.

The fire is up, and there's a group of people. The usual guys you occasionally see. The music is blaring, and it's constant hooting, yelling, a couple guys wrestling.

You spot the two girls sitting in lawn chairs and laughing. Perfect! You make your way towards them but Paul steps up.

"Beautiful, you made it." He smiles and wraps his arm around you.

You playfully lean into him and look up at him. "Sure did!" You smell his cologne and deodorant. "You smell good." You instantly jump at your own words and blush. It came out on its own. It wasn't up to you!

Paul chuckles and pulls you into him. He leans down to your ear. "Thanks, pretty girl." His breath hits your ear and neck.

Your eyes widen, and your heart picks up its speed.

"Hey girl! Over here!" One of the girls yells to you and pats the empty chair beside her. You notice the scars on her face, but you don't judge.

Paul lets you go. "Have fun." He winks and walks towards the loud group of guys.

You make your way over and sit down. "Hey! I'm-"

The girl with the scars stops you. "Trust me. We know! Paul never shuts up about you." She smiles and extends her hand. "Emily."

You blush and smile.. your heart flutters. You take her hand, shaking gently. You turn to the other girl. She pulls her beet away from her lips and holds out her hand with a cute smile.

You smile back, giggling, and shake her hand.

"Kim! I'm glad you came! Paul wasn't lying. You're stunning." She smiles.

You giggle again and shake your head. "You girls are beautiful. Thanks, Kim!"

Paul runs up to you and reaches his hand out. "Beautiful! Let me get you to meet everyone." He smiles.

The night went on, you've met all of his friends and had an amazing time. You haven't asked questions on why they're all shirtless in 40-degree weather. You also haven't asked about the tattoo. But you assume it's their native tribe symbol.

----

The next night, you're tired. It was a tough day with work, and you're so over it. You're freshly showered. You turn on your fan and heater, and you're now laid up in bed.

Then, you hear them. The loud music, the rowdy boys. You're too tired for this. It's keeping you awake. As expected, you get a bit cranky. You text Paul to 'please, quiet down.'

You hear the music die down to a point where you don't hear it anymore. You sigh of relief, and your phone buzzes.

Paul: Sorry, beautiful. I fixed it.

---

You walk inside your house after your shift. It's dark outside, and your house is dimly lit. You take off your shoes and get ready to walk into the bedroom when you hear something fall in the kitchen.

You pause. Fear.

You hear shuffling. Movements.

Your heart picks up, and you slowly take a step forward. You see some stuff scattered. You hear something move again in the kitchen.

You freak out and you slip your shoes on and run next door. You knock on the door. "Paul!" You call out in a panic.

Paul opens the door, and he looks down at you worriedly. He gently grabs your wrists. "Hey, hey.. what's wrong?" He asks.

"There's someone in my house." You whisper in fear.

He raises an eyebrow and his jaw clenches. "Okay, beautiful. I've got you." He walks out of his house and then walks through his yard toward your house.

You follow behind him cautiously.

"Hey, no. Go back to my house." He whispers to you as you both get to your porch.

"No.." You whisper back.

He sighs and then opens the door. As soon as he does, he smells it. He smiles and then chuckles. He walks inside, leaves the door open, and goes into the kitchen. Low and behold, it's a raccoon digging in your kitchen.

You slowly walk inside, in shock that Paul just walked in! "Paul!" You whisper yell.

"Beautiful, it's a raccoon." He laughs.

You walk into the kitchen to see him holding it. He turns around to the door that is beside your kitchen. He opens it and lets it outside. As he closes the door, he looks down.

Paul kicks the doggy door and laughs. "I'll screw that shut."

Now, you're embarrassed as hell. You sigh and cover your face. "God... thank you, Paul." You groan. You move your hands as he begins to clean up the mess. "I'm so sorry for wasting your time." You bend down, picking up jars and cans.

Paul chuckles, his eyes crinkling in the corners. "It's not a big deal, beautiful. I'm just glad you felt comfortable enough to come get me." He smiles in thought.

After a few minutes of cleaning up, you both sit on the couch. You make him tea for his troubles and sit down beside him.

"Again, I'm sorry." You giggle awkwardly.

He shakes his head and takes the tea. "Don't stress over it. It made my night." He smiles and sips the glass. He places it down and looks at you again. He's admiring your features, and he reaches out to push your hair behind your ear. "If a raccoon is one excuse to get me to see you, I'm really not bothered." His eyes search yours.

His gaze sends you in a trance. Your breathing picks up. You can't look away. You feel as if you're being pulled closer to him. You didn't realize that you were leaning in until his hand grips your chin to stop you. Your eyes focus again, and you notice how close both of your faces are. His fingers send fire through you as they hold your chin.

"I want to kiss you so badly, but if I start.. I'm afraid I won't stop." He looks in your eyes.

"Then don't." The words did not even try to stay in your mouth.

"I have to leave in a minute." He whispers. He has to go out and patrol, but he can't tell you that. And he knows that if he kisses you, his instincts as a shifter who imprinted will not be able to stop. He feels like he's lost control in this moment. He's so stuck on what to do.

You nod your head and pull your face out of his hand. It felt like hell doing that. "Where do you have to go?" You ask.

"Work." He smiles softly and caresses your cheek.

You lean forward and gently press your lips on his. He is shocked as the connection sparks like electricity. It was as if your kiss fixed a circuit in his brain. One hand finds your waist while the other moves to the back of your head, tangling in your hair. His lips move with yours, slowly opening and closing but not using too much tongue. He knows if the kiss escalates, Sam is going to chew his ass.

But, you decide to be kind and let the man go to work. You pull away and press your forehead on his. "Go to work, Paul. When you come back," you look in his eyes and smile, "I expect a date." You giggle.

He chuckles and kisses your forehead. "Deal."

#twilight #embry call #jacob black #paul lahote #jared cameron #seth clearwater #sam uley #leah clearwater #twilight wolfpack #quil ateara #paul lahote x reader

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thebestsetter · 2 months ago

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This is exactly what you both needed after a tough week.

Just you and your boyfriend of two years, Oliver Aiku, spending an afternoon together with no prying eyes, nosy reporters or loud teammates to interfere. Just you and him and him and you, cuddling the day away and talking nonsense with eachother.

You were also talking about something serious tho. Something very serious: your future together.

"And then we can have a dog- no, a cat" you smiled, tracing his nose with one of your hands and booping it

"Why not both?" He grabbed your hand that just messed with his nose and held it firmly, kissing the inner part of your arm and then caressing the part where he laid his lips with his thumb. "I think we'll have space for both at our mansion"

"Sure" you laughed, burying your face in between his neck and shoulder "But I'll only move in with you after marriage"

"What? Why?" He fake-panicked, and then sighed in relief "Good thing I'm planning to put a ring on your finger very soon"

You hid your face deeper, trying (and failling) to hide the blushing mess you just became

"Good." You smiled, kissing his cheek

"Honestly, darling" he began, looking at you with only pure, raw love in his eyes "I can't wait to be able to call you Mrs. Oliver"

You felt like a silly lovesick girl, giggling and all that. You just loved your boyfriend too much, and you also couldn't wait to be called...

Wait.

Hold up.

Hold the fuck up.

"What" you raised your head in disbelief and stared at him dead in the eyes "What did you just say?"

"What's wrong?" He asked, confused "You don't want to get married to me?"

"No!" You shouted, making him pout "No... I mean, it's not that. It's just that... what's your first name?"

"Aiku"

"So your family name is..."

"Oliver??" He asked, confused

But you weren't confused. Oh no no.

You were having the time of your life. You were delighted. In fact, you were so awestruck at the information you just discovered that your instant reaction was laugh.

It started of as a giggle, and then it became a strong, loud roar.

"...I don't get it" Aiku said

"HAHAHAHAHH OLIVER"

You were literally crying. You couldn't explain why, but it was just too funny

After almost 5 minutes just laughing, you felt Aiku pushing you off of him

"Wow. Okay." He said, getting up from the couch "You wounded me."

"W-where are you going?" You said, wiping away some tears

"To the side hoes" he answered with an angry pout on his face "I bet they'd be delighted to be Mrs. Oliver"

"We both know damn well you don't have those after you started dating me..." he raised an eyebrow at that "...right?"

"Believe whatever you want. I'm going away since you hate me and don't want to marry me."

"Hey! Come back!" You also got up, quickly running to him and hugging his back "Babe, I'm kidding. I'd love to be Mrs. Oliver"

"...really?"

"Yes!" He turned around, now facing you with a serious expression "I'd love to be your wife, babe. Even if I have to be known as Mrs. Oliver. I don't mind, as long as I'm with you"

He seemed to ignore the last part, since he smiled hard after you said that.

"Well then, don't mind if I ask you to marry me right now!" he said, hugging you and spinning you around, earning a smile from you

"But our kids are definitely gonna get my surname" you added

"Hey!" He scowled playfully "Take that back right now!"

"Nope"

"Well then... you shall suffer the consequences of your words!"

"Aiku, babe, what are you talking about... don't."

"Watch me." He said, running after you and trying to tickle you

Your laughs echoed through the whole building. Maybe this is what love looked like. Maybe loving someone was making sacrifices for them.

Maybe that's why, 1 year later, you did get the Oliver family surname. And maybe that's why you wore it proudly, even if it was kinda silly: it meant you loved someone, and they loved you back. What's to be ashamed in that?

Your kids really got your family name though. Lucky them!

~ A/N: Random idea. WHY IS HIS NAME AIKU.

Masterlist

#blue lock #bllk #bllk manga #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x you #oliver aiku x you #oliver aiku x reader #bllk aiku #aiku x reader #oliver aiku #blue lock aiku #the oliver brainrot is too strong 💔

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blushweddinggowns · 11 months ago

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“Your boyfriend,” Chirssy sighed as she picked through Nancy’s clothes, “Y’know, Steve?”

Robin blinked at her, “You think I’m dating Steve?”

That was a silly question, “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I? You guys are all over each other.”

They were. Piggy back rides, cuddling on the couch together, constantly invading each other’s personal space. The only person worse with Steve was Eddie, but Chrissy figured that just came with being best friends for over a decade. She didn’t exactly have a frame of reference for that, considering her first real friends were barely six months old.

Chrissy just hadn’t expected Robin to burst out laughing. Hard enough to double over.

Robin wiped at her eyes, barely managing to speak through her own cackles, “That’s-oh my god. How have we fucked up this badly?”

Chrissy could feel a flush creep up her neck, embarrassment kicking in. She hated when she wasn’t in on the joke. It usually meant that it was actually on her, “Don't be mean.”

“No!” Robin rushed out to say, effortlessly catching on to the look on Chrissy’s face, “No! I-I don’t mean- you’re not stupid! I am. We are. For… reasons. But we aren’t dating.”

That didn’t make any sense. Unless… was Steve leading her on? Was he the type of guy to do that?

Chrissy raised a brow at her, “So what are you doing? The two of you are attached at the hip. Unless he just drives you around everywhere for fun?”

Chrissy could tell Robin was still trying not to laugh. She was failing at it too, obvious as she hid it behind her hand.

“Stop laughing at me,” Chrissy grumbled.

“I’m not! I’m just laughing near you,” Robin said quickly. She turned to Steve, “Hey babe, can you come over here for a second?”

He came trotting right over, leaving Eddie to argue with Nancy in his place. He kind of reminded her of a dog, but in a cute way. Like a golden retriever boyfriend.

Robin wrapped an arm around his shoulder the second he was within reach. She grinned at him, shaking him the slightest bit, “How would you feel about us going out some time?”

Steve stared at her, obviously confused, “Huh?”

“You, me,” Robin went on, “The whole boyfriend girlfriend shtick. What do you say?”

Chrissy didn’t expect to Steve physically cringe, like the idea completely disgusted him, “Ew, no.”

Robin scoffed but she didn’t look very surprised, “Fucking rude.”

“No!” Steve said, raising his hands to placate, “I don’t mean you’re gross! I mean it would be like banging my sister!”

It was Robin’s turn to cringe, “Dude, ew.”

“See!”

Chrissy didn’t understand what was happening. She stared at them, blurting the question out, “You guys aren’t together?”

Robin did a set of jazz hands, “Nope. Absolutely zero attraction between us. See?”

“But why?” Chrissy asked, looking between the two of them, “You both seem so perfect for each other.”

“Hey Eddie,” Steve called, a weird smile on his face, “What do you think? Are Robin and I perfect for each other?”

Suddenly Robin had that same look, “Yeah. He knows Steve better than anybody. Let's have him weigh in.”

Eddie groaned as he came over, clearly eavesdropping the entire time. He left Nancy to dig around her closet, walking up next to Steve with a sigh, “Are we really doing this? Really?”

Robin gasped, faking a faint, “Are you implying that I’m not good enough for Steve?”

Steve gasped right along with her, joining in with the dramatics while Chrissy was still lost, “I think he might be.”

“As fun as this little game is,” Eddie sighed, “I think we should just tell her. I’m tired of keeping my hands to myself anyway.”

Steve looked at him, head cocked, “You think so?”

“Why not?”

Steve shrugged, his eyes landing back onto Chrissy. His voice dipped down, more serious then before. He was talking like he was speaking to Eddie, but Eddie wasn’t the one he was staring down as he spoke, “It makes sense. I think the chances of it going badly are pretty low. The alternative wouldn’t be very wise.”

Chrissy was reminded, not for the first time, why she thought Steve was the scarier one of the best friend duo.

But then Eddie was clamping a hand onto Steve’s shoulder, pulling him closer as he mumbled in his ear, “Put the claws away angel. I highly doubt she's like that. Plus she's been through enough for one day. Don't you think?”

It was actually pretty impressive, how easily a few words had Steve’s face transforming from scarily defensive to pleasantly neutral. It nearly looked like the words made him shiver, “I-you're right. Sorry Chris. I'm just… sensitive about it “

“I have no idea what’s going on,” Chrissy said, completely unable to accept an apology that she didn’t understand, “What is happening?”

And what did Eddie just call him?

Eddie went on, “Well… we kind of have this thing when we’re in a near death experience. Or at least adjacent to it. Where we, well, kind of let loose? So we might as well warn you about what you’re going to see beforehand.”

Chrissy stared as Steve leaned further into him, nearly too close. No, definitely too close. He was basically nuzzling the side of Eddie’s face as he spoke, “You’re making it sound like we’re going to commit public indecency in front of her. And I’m the one who needs to calm down?”

Chrissy still didn’t get it. But her brain was still trying to work it out, fitting the weird pieces together. The way they were leaning into each other. The fact that Steve, for some bizarre reason didn’t want the best girl in the country, despite the fact that Robin was right there. How Eddie was instantly able to calm him down.

Angel.

Oh.

OH.

“Uh, you okay there Chris?” Eddie asked, watching right at the realization hit her.

She was not okay. Not because of Eddie and Steve, but because this meant Robin was single. And she had been the entire damn time.

Chrissy shook herself out of the stupid thought, just because she wasn’t taken didn’t mean she had a chance-

“Yeah, we’re kind of the queer trio over here,” Robin added, effortlessly grinding Chrissy’s train of thought back to a halt, “I um, probably should have told you sooner but piggybacking on their coming out seems appropriate.”

Nancy snorted, her outfit choices formalized as she walked over, “If you’re the queer trio what does that make me? The straight fourth wheel?”

They were all talking about it so casually. Like the thing that has plagued Chrissy’s mind for years, filling her with guilt and doubt, didn’t matter. It was normal, it was fine, and Robin liked girls.

She was pretty sure she was going to faint. But before she could her mouth was opening, “That’s- I - Why didn’t you tell me sooner?!”

Her voice came out more forceful than she expected. Though in her defense, she just found out that she had a real shot with her best friend the same day her life was in danger. She was feeling frazzled, but she corrected herself when she was met with silence, “I-I’m fine with it! Really! I j-just wish I had known.”

Nancy looked at her sympathetically, “Did you have a crush on one of them too? I get it, Steve got me the first time we started getting close. But I promise it’s not that hard to get over it.”

“No!” Chrissy said quickly, again with too much force, “I’m just surprised. T-That’s it. Everything’s fine.”

“Think you got the wrong category there Nance,” Steve mumbled under his breathe, yelping when Robin pinched his arm with a sharp glare.

“Ignore him,” Robin said with a sad smile, “He doesn’t get everyone doesn’t have the gay gene.”

Chrissy nodded, her eyes trailing the flush that was going up Robin’s neck. Suddenly her mouth felt dry, the urge to correct her coming out full force. She shouldn’t tell them, right? It was wrong, it was bad, it didn't make sense. Because she knew they weren’t wrong. They weren’t bad. And Chrissy was so, so, tired of other people’s words invading her own thoughts.

Nancy was laying the clothes out, the only one capable of getting everyone back on task, “Since it looks like neither of you were actually looking. I picked these out for you-”

“I have it,” Chrissy blurted out, her eyes still on the clothes on the bed. She refused to look up for any of their reactions, “The um, what you guys were talking about earlier. Me too. And I like the blue skirt.”

Nancy was the only one who didn’t miss a beat, “Ah, so now there’s four. Good for you. And I agree with the skirt, it will make you look a little taller with the heels and the elongation. We can get you to pass for a college student for sure. Robin, what do you think about the pink?”

from the next chapter of this fic

#steddie #steddie fic #buckingham fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #steddie childhood friends au #the universe trapped in your skin #preview #im trying y'all #queued

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 10 months ago

Note

Hey, so your Tanjiro Reader post gave me an idea. And I just wanted to leave it here, and you can write something if you like it.

But I just thought of a Gyutaro Reader, who gets dragged into Twisted Wonderland with her Daki like little brother.

Just the yanderes falling in love with Reader and trying to court her (in their own obsessive ways), but dealing with her bratty little brother who hates the idea of anyone dating his big sister.

This could be due to Reader being deemed ugly in their previous world, Daki is afraid that the yanderes are just leading Reader on with the intention of humiliating her. Or Daki just hating the idea of a boy stealing Reader away from him.

My rant's over now. I hope you have a great day/night! Keep up the amazing work!

Thanks for the support! 🖤🖤🖤

Gyutaro Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Falling into their world with your little sibling in tow, it’s hard to believe others could look past your demonic self and shortcomings. Your little sibling’s idea of protection garners on who will actually survive their initial purge of people they consider to be faking it. If they do then your sweet sibling makes a point to beat them so close to death they’ll have no choice to be honest:

Rook Hunt

“(Y/n)’s beauty is unmatched! I wish to serve them everyday!”

“Lies! You’re fast but not fast enough! If you can survive my sash’s capture than maybe I’ll let you have a chance!”

If Rook cheerfully returns to see you with multiple bandages he’ll just say ‘labors of love’

Your sibling is suddenly a lot less critical of the cursive love-letter

“If you do want to date him I guess that’s okay…but if he hurts you we eat him.”

Kalim Al Asim

“What?! How dare you so openly continue to lie about your affection!? I should tear you to shreds right now!”

“But I’m not lying. I love (Y/n) with all my heart!”

Call your sibling materialistic but she realizes how quickly he pays for things that you mention you like

Or paying to take you on not-so friendly hangouts

But even without that his beaming smile and honesty make them harder to interrogate

And then there’s Jamil

So they might let their guard down

If only to turn around and snap his neck when his bodyguard’s not there

Too bad he’s oh so diligent

And Kalim is far too persistant

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere x gn reader #yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere harem #yandere kalim al asim #yandere kalim x reader #yandere rook x reader #yandere rook hunt #yandere rook #yandere kalim

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rando3w574 · 1 month ago

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S.R x alt!reader

In which the team catches Spencer staring at the “alternative chick” across the bar.

Warnings/genre: Fluff, reader is referred to as a woman and girlfriend, slightly feminine reader (description of makeup,skirt etc), not so secret relationship, brief cm content in the beginning.

Second/third person (idk), Enjoy!

The team had been in California for a week to investigate a string of kidnappings in the downtown area. The case contained its usual horrific scenes and events but luckily the skilled team of agents were able to find the unsub and arrest him without any extra gore. Leading to where they are now. At a bar for drinks somewhere in Virginia.

Spencer’s eyes are focused on your every movement, zoning in on every feature of yours from your precisely styled hair and makeup down to your intricate flowy skirt, paired with the equally as intricate shoes he insisted on buying for you. He longs to hear your laughing and feel your touch but is unfortunately aware of his own rule to keep you two private from the world, not wanting any harm to come to you because of his line of work. Right now however, Spencer has decided he hates that rule.

The team were on their second round of drinks when people noticed Spencer’s sudden lack of attention in the conversation, but instead focused on a group at the other side of the packed bar. The smirk on his face was hard to miss and inevitably caught the attention of Derek and Penelope, having finished being in their own little bubble.

“Hey pretty boy,” Derek teases, “pretty boyyy?”

“Hm” Spencer responds, forcing his eyes away from across the bar to focus on Derek.

“Who over there has got you so caught up?” Penelope questions, the whole team now paying attention to their conversation.

“Nobody. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Spencer quickly defends, causing a giggle from the girls at his nervousness.

“Sure you don’t,” Derek replies sarcastically, “So you don’t mind if I just, go over there?” Derek teases again.

But before Spencer can answer in protest or stop the, Derek and Penelope are already out of their seats and making their way over to you and your group of friends.

Although Spencer can’t hear much of your conversation over the bustle of the bar, he can imagine you recognise his two colleagues from the many pictures in his apartment as he notices your eyes widening at the realisation and your gorgeous smile making an always welcome appearance on your face. He thinks you’re an angel.

Soon enough, you begin to head over towards the table him and the remainder of the team occupy, excluding Derek and Penelope who are a few steps behind you with cheesy grins plastered on their faces.

Your smile hasn’t faltered and is still adorning your face as you near the table.

“Hello everyone, you must be the rest of Spencer’s team!” You beam while meeting the individual gazes of everyone including Spencer’s gazes.

Most of them stare cluelessly except for Spencer who is blushes in your unprompted presence. After a few seconds of silence, Derek thankfully cuts the tension and explains,

“This beautiful woman here seems to know Spencer pretty well. Do you care to explain that to us all pretty boy?” He says with a wink.

Spencer blushes even more at the sudden turn of heads in his direction, feeling your piercing gaze along with his colleagues inquisitive looks.

“Well uhm everyone, this is y/n. My girlfriend.” He stammers saying the last part in a hurry whilst gesturing towards you.

The table erupts into a flurry of “hello, nice to meet you”, compliments directed towards you and your style with the occasional “I didn’t know Spencer had a girlfriend” to which you responded,

“He’s been keeping you guys from me for 6 months. Can you believe?” You joke with a fake pout on your lips.

“Well we need to make up for lost time then.” Jj claims.

“Reid, the next rounds on you. We have some questions to ask!” Emily demands in agreement. The rest of team then seconding her idea.

Spencer sighs, already feeling sorry for his bank account about to feel the consequences of his team’s expensive taste but all distain is gone as soon as you slip into the spot next to him. And as soon as you kiss him sweetly in greeting and then again for fun, he knows he’s going to have a good night even if he’s the target of all teasing tomorrow. He’s glad you’ve finally met his makeshift family and knows he’ll not regret this unplanned introduction.

A/n: Hi all, this is literally my first ever actual oneshot not just hcs! Any tips are appreciated and of course any interactions! Thank you guys for reading!

#spencer reid #need him so bad #matthew gray gubbler x reader #spencer reid hcs #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid headcanon #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #oneshot #imagine #matthew gray gubler

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obvi-the-best-soph · 4 months ago

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we're all bound to break. (chapter 2)

alexia putellas masterlist: here requests: here

based on this request: R tells alexia about her parents but makes alexia promise not to tell the team. alexia agrees of r agrees to speak to the team psychologist/ try and improve her eating and general health. either the team find out through social media or listening to r in an interview getting mad/ upset about a question about her parents. r blames alexia for telling people bc she hasn’t told anyone else. alexia comforts her + happy ending

word count: 2,123k

summary: you tell the team about your mami and papa, alexia helps you through it, an interviewer asks a tough question, and you're paid a visit from someone who is less than friendly.

genre: angst/comfort warnings: disordered eating, mentions of vomiting, death of parents, swearing, grief, struggling alone, eating while recovering from an ed, possibly very bad spanish (sorry! i try lol).

chapter 1: here chapter 3: here

a/n: hey! ive had a lot of requests for chapter two of this story, its taken me a while because i didn't really get any requests and i was struggling for ideas, so it has taken a month, but the long awaited second chapter is here! i didn't really follow the request too closely, but I think it turned out alright, hope you do too. requests are always open. <3 :D

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“Superestrella, we need to talk. There’s something wrong, and you’re going to tell me what it is.”

You froze. You assumed there were still tear tracks down your cheeks, your eyes still bloodshot, and clearly, Alexia knew something was wrong. But she didn’t seem to know what.

“I- uh- what? There’s nothing wrong. Just… tired is all.” You try to explain, stuttering out an awful and clearly fake excuse. “You look tired too, maybe you should go to bed and we can talk later?”

“No,” Alexia states firmly, sitting down on your bed next to you. “Chica it smells like sick in here, have you thrown up?” she asks skeptically, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Well not really, I think I just ate something bad earlier, it was only a little bit-” You attempt to lie again, but she cuts you off.

“Stop bullshitting me amor, just tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it,” she says. That’s the thing, Alexia’s a problem solver, a bit like a man, just wanting to fix everything for everyone so we can all be happy with no problems, but she couldn't fix this. Mami is dead. Papi is dead. They are gone. You can’t undo death, no matter how hard you try.

After nearly 20 minutes of back and forth, “There’s something wrong.” “No, there’s not, I’m fine,” Alexia pulls out the big guns, completely oblivious and unaware of how big they are now.

“Superestrella, if you don’t tell me, I’ll have to call your parents and you’ll have to talk to them. Please, just tell me, I only want to help. I hate seeing you so introverted and quiet all the time, I miss your laugh, guapa.”

And with that, the guns are fired, and the dam is broken. You burst into another round of tears, burying yourself into Alexia’s side, head on her chest. Between sobs, you manage to get out the words,

“You can’t help! No one can help! It’s all ruined!”

before falling asleep from the effort of crying and earlier, denial. Now, Alexia is seriously worried.

Alexia lets you sleep on her for a moment before carefully manoeuvring you to lie down and slipping out of your room. Once in the lounge area, she sits down on the edge of the couch, resting her elbows on her knees, face in her hands. Her thinking position, because she was thinking pretty fucking hard right now. What on Earth had happened? What had gone wrong to make her happy, giggly, pestering Superestrella, so- so…. Broken?

Finally, she decides to call Mapi, she knows that Mapi was out late celebrating last night too, and is probably also dealing with a killer hangover, similar to Alexia’s currently, but she deems this important enough to warrant a call.

The phone rings three times before a very croaky-voiced, tired, and generally-recovering-from-being-completely-plastered sounding, María León is heard;

“What Alexia?”

“Mapi, sorry, I know now probably isn’t the best time, but… it’s Y/N, she-”

Before Alexia can even get a word of an explanation in, a now far more awake and alert sounding defender is cutting her off, clearly very worried, “Chica? What about her? Is she- is she okay? What’s wrong?”

That morning, it was organised that at training in a few days, Lucy, Keira, Alexia, Mapi and Ingrid would sit you down after training, and you would talk.

It’s been a couple of days since the Champions League final, most members of the team are still on the winning high, while others are starting to settle a bit, but today is the first training back since the big game. You go about training as normal, struggling your way through it with next to no will to live and an empty stomach, but when you’re in the locker room, Alexia taps you on the shoulder. You two haven't spoken much since the other morning after her night of celebrations.

“Hey, a few of us just want to have a quick meeting with you before we go today, sí?” she says, her tone softer, more gentle, than usual.

You nod awkwardly and finish changing before heading to the meeting room Alexia had told you to meet at, only to find 5 of your teammates sat there, watching you like you’re a Porcelain doll that could shatter at any second, and that was slightly true.

“Um, hola Todas?” (Hello everyone.) you say with slight suspicion, eyeing them one by one as you slowly sit down in a chair at the long glass table. There’s a collective murmur of “Hello”s in various languages before it goes quiet again. Alexia speaks up first;

“Superestrella, we’ve all noticed something is wrong, and we just want to help. Truly, that’s all we want. You are usually all sunshine and rainbows, but recently you have been walking around like you have rocks in your pockets and a storm cloud over your head. Por favor niña, déjanos entrar. (Please girl, let us in.)” she says in a slightly pleading tone, the other women are all looking at you sympathetically.

“I- nothing is wrong. I’m just… uh… tired! I am tired. We have been training a lot recently so I haven’t been feeling the best recently! That’s it. Si. Estoy cansada. (I’m tired.)” you reply quickly, desperate to get out of here and back into bed so you can continue wallowing your sadness and grief, alone.

They all give you soft, yet slightly unimpressed, looks of ‘Come on. We all know that’s not it.’

“Chica-” Mapi starts, but she’s cut off by Lucy’s thick accent,

“Y/N please, let us in. You know we would never judge you or anything like that, we just want to help, as Alexia said. Teammates are here to support you off the pitch just as much as on it.”

“Yeah, what Lucy said. We love you like a little sister, Y/N, and we’re worried about you.” Keira adds.

A collective nod and hum of agreement spread through the room. You sigh. It was getting harder and harder to pretend.

“I- ugh. Okay. Fine. There is something wrong.” You finally relent, the lump already forming in your throat, the familiar glass returning to your eyes. The 5 women around you perk up a bit, glad you’re starting to open up, even if it’s only a little.

“What is Cari? (Cariño- sweetheart.)” Ingrid speaks up for the first time, her accent thick as always.

“It’s… it’s my parents.” They frown. They knew how close you were with your parents, especially your papa, so what could be wrong that has to do with them? You close your eyes and take a deep breath, tears falling silently down your cheeks, you’d gotten good at crying quietly, preparing to voice the words aloud for the first time. To make it all real.

“They- they’re- they- died. Dead. Gone.” you open your eyes to find 5 women staring at you in horror, eyes wide, mouths open, and sympathetic looks from them all. But it was Alexia’s face that made the tears fall, she was the only one who knew how you really felt, who truly understood. It was her arms that you felt around you first, she didn’t say anything, she just held you for a while.

After a few moments, you spoke up again, your voice a little more steady this time.

“It was 2 weeks before the Champions League final. I got the call from the police back in (your hometown), they- they were driving home from our match, there- there was a drunk driver. The driver hit them at nearly full speed, they- they didn’t survive the impact.”

The horror on the women’s faces only grows, Alexia’s grip on you only tightens.

It’s a good few minutes before anyone says anything else, and the one to speak up this time is Lucy.

“Oh god Y/N, that- that’s awful. Why on Earth didn’t you tell us? We would’ve helped you, supported you-” her tone, growing slightly frustrated and upset, is cut off by a firm pat on the thigh by Keira, telling her to cool it a bit, the defender going quiet.

“I- I didn’t tell you because…. Because I didn’t want you to pity me, to treat me differently, and you guys already worry about me enough, so I didn’t want to add to it right before the final. And also… I just- I just couldn’t say it out loud. Not then. It was too soon…”

That conversation or “meeting” as it’s now referred to, went on for a long time, feelings were discussed, tears fell, hands trembled, and eventually, you and Alexia were left to go home, and you felt a whole lot lighter… possibly because it had been 3 days since your last meal, or possibly because you had finally confessed your secret.

When you arrived back at the apartment, Olga was anxiously waiting there for the two of you. During the meeting, the subject of your eating had come up, you had confessed to skipping meals and intentionally not eating, and agreed to try harder to fuel your body the way an athlete should. Clearly, Alexia had shot Olga a text or something before we arrived, as there was a bowl of your favourite sitting, waiting on the table. Eli’s (Alexia’s Mami.) homemade paella and blue Powerade. Gently, Alexia sat you down at the seat in front of it and sat next to you, she put the spoon in your hand and made you eat a few bites, and then she just slipped into conversation with you, a random conversation, about school and friends and the new set pieces, etc. And before you knew it, you had been so distracted that you had eaten the whole bowl without even thinking about it. It felt… good, being full that is. Alexia smiled softly when she saw your small smile and took your plate up to the sink, before sending you off for a bath and a nap with a kiss on the forehead.

A couple of days after the whole ordeal, you were asked to do an interview. Where you would be talking about the Champions League final, what it was like to score both the goals for Barca, one in the last few minutes too, how you celebrated afterwards as you were not allowed in the changing rooms, but worst of all, a question you weren’t expecting, weren’t ready for,

“So Y/N, everyone is very familiar with your papa, your biggest fan, often seen wearing your jersey and waving his flag, but he was not spotted at the final, we were just wondering, is he okay, or just sitting somewhere else?” The interviewer asks with an unknowing and innocent smile.

You have to swallow the lump in your throat before you can respond, you manage to keep the smile on your face, and voice steady (barely).

“Oh, yeah, no. He, um- Unfortunately he wasn’t able to make it.” You say with a curt nod and ever so slightly pursed lips, the interviewer getting the hint not to pry any further on the question.

That night, you were curled up on the couch, laying across is, your head in Alexia’s lap, crying… again. You hadn’t been prepared for that question. It had scared you, Alexia understood, she knew how hard it was to talk about it (from personal experience), especially if you aren’t aware the subject will be brought up. Alexia whispers soothing Spanish words, her nails scratching your scalp calmingly, when there’s a knock at the door.

Alexia frowned and looked at the clock, it was 7pm, not usual visitor time, no one was meant to be coming around, Olga was out of town with friends… who was it? She carefully moves your head from her lap and kisses your forehead before going to answer the door, as she walks over, you prop yourself up on your elbows a bit to see who it is.

The midfielder opened the door to find a woman standing there, she was young-ish, probably younger than Alexia, mid-twenties maybe, but rather… uptight looking. At first, you couldn’t see who it was, the woman and Ale exchanged a few words before Alexia stepped aside, you and the woman now having a clear view of each other…

Your expression changed quickly, features hardening, eyes narrowing, jaw clenching. You practically jumped off the couch in anger, stomping up to the woman, and standing very close to her. With a cold look and tone, you spoke to her;

“What the fuck do you want to take from me now, tía (aunt)?” you spat the last word like it tastes fowl in your mouth…

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a/n: i hope you enjoyed it! if you are wanting a third chapter, please don't just say "chapter 3 pls" or something like that, please give me actual ideas or requests in my inbox. kind critisms is always welcome too. thank you for reading! 😊💖

tag list: @multifandomlesbianic

#alexia putellas #lucy bronze #mapi leon #barcelona femeni #woso x reader #keira walsh #ingrid engen #olga rios #woso #woso communtiy #obvithebestsoph

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