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ama0310 · 9 months ago

Text

Bubblegum Bitch

Character: Aaron Hotchner

Requested: No

Type: Song Fic, Angst/Fluff

Summary: Hotch never thought he'd fall in love again—until he met Y/N.

Author's Note: Based on Bubblegum Bitch by MARINA

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Meeting the Unit Chief should have been terrifying, but for you, it was exhilarating. Strauss had recently transferred you to the BAU from the Counter-Terrorism Division.

You suspected she added you to the team to ruffle the Unit Chief's feathers. It might have bothered you if it hadn’t come with a nice bump in your paycheck.

The moment Hotch saw you, he knew you were trouble. He just didn't realize how much trouble until your very first case.

Got a figure like a pin-up, got a figure like a doll Don't care if you think I'm dumb, I don't care at all

You stood before the mirror in a dingy motel bathroom, applying the finishing touches to your makeup. The skin-tight leather mini dress hugged every curve, transforming you into the perfect bait for the unsub who had been terrorizing local nightclubs.

Hotch's reflection appeared behind you, his face etched with worry. "Y/L/N, I really don't think you're ready for this."

You turned, cocking an eyebrow as you placed your hands on your hips. "And why is that, sir?"

Hotch's response was immediate and brutally honest. "You're still new, never been face-to-face with an unsub, let alone undercover. You're reckless, difficult to control, and frankly, a loose cannon. Need I go on?"

I'll chew you up and I'll spit you out

A smirk played at your lips as you sauntered towards him, invading his personal space. The scent of your perfume mingled with the tension in the air. "Look, Hotchie," you purred, noting how he stiffened at the nickname, "I was transferred here for a reason. I know what this job entails. So be my boss and let me do it."

You could see the internal struggle playing out behind Hotch's eyes. His professional concern warred with something else – an attraction he was clearly trying to suppress. You were a walking danger sign, and part of him was drawn to that fire.

"First," he said, his voice low and controlled, "don't call me that. Second, I'm not trying to offend you. I simply think Emily might be better suited for this operation. You can take points next time."

You scoffed, taking a step back. "Next time? With all due respect, sir, I fit the victimology perfectly, and you know it. I've spent the last hour transforming myself into exactly what this creep is looking for. If I don't do this, he'll likely claim another victim before we can catch him. So again, Hotchie," you emphasized the nickname, watching him bristle, "let me do my job. Don't make me have to disobey orders."

Without waiting for a response, you slipped on your stilettos and brushed past him, the warmth of your body tantalizingly close for a moment before you were gone.

Hotch watched you go, a mix of admiration and trepidation swirling in his gut. You were brilliant, fearless, and undeniably effective. But you were also unpredictable, pushing boundaries at every turn. As he followed you out, preparing to oversee the operation, one thought echoed in his mind:

Definitely trouble.

Candy bear, sweetie pie, wanna be adored I'm the girl you'd die for

Over the past few months, you had become the team's radiant beacon of positivity, your presence a cure for the often-dark nature of their work. Even the usually stoic Hotch, though he'd never admit it aloud, had fallen under your spell.

It was impossible not to be drawn to your infectious energy. Each morning, you breezed into the bullpen, a whirlwind of warmth and enthusiasm. Your greetings were accompanied by compliments, tailored to brighten each team member's day. After particularly grueling cases, the aroma of your famous blueberry muffins would fill the office, a comforting reminder that there was still sweetness in the world. You even patiently endured Spencer's lengthy tangents, sparing the others from information overload.

As the team prepared to head out for a new case, you sprinted across the parking lot, your laughter echoing off the concrete walls. "Shotgun!" you called out triumphantly, playfully shoving past Spencer to claim the coveted front seat next to Hotch.

Your friendship with the young doctor had blossomed quickly, bonded by your shared status as the "kids" of the team. While the others sometimes found his endless stream of facts overwhelming, you delighted in his knowledge, often engaging him in spirited debates that left the rest of the team both amused and bewildered.

The unit chief's lips twitched, fighting back a smile as he watched your antics. Spencer, mock indignation coloring his voice, appealed to their leader. "Hotch, come on! She rode shotgun last time. It's my turn, isn't it?"

Hotch cleared his throat, his tone stern but his eyes betraying a hint of amusement. "Y/N, you know the rules. It is indeed Reid's turn to sit up front."

You turned to face Hotch, unleashing the full power of your most irresistible puppy dog eyes. Your lower lip jutted out ever so slightly as you pleaded silently. Behind you, Spencer let out a resigned sigh, already knowing he'd lost this battle. Your ability to wrap Hotch around your finger was legendary among the team, even if the man himself was loath to acknowledge it.

Hotch held your gaze for a moment, visibly wavering. With a barely perceptible shake of his head, he started the engine, tacitly allowing you to keep your place.

Victorious, you twisted in your seat to face Spencer, sticking out your tongue in a childish display of triumph.

"Y/N!" Hotch's voice held a note of warning, though it lacked any real heat.

You straightened immediately, your voice dripping with faux innocence. "Sorry, sir!"

The apology was hollow, and you both knew it. As Hotch pulled out of the parking lot, you caught the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Your sunny persona had once again melted the ice around the unit chief's heart.

Oh, dear diary, I met a boy He made my doll heart light up with joy

The realization hit you like a thunderbolt – you were hopelessly, irrevocably in love with Aaron Hotchner. For the first time in your life, you felt a fear that chilled you to your core.

How could someone like him ever reciprocate such feelings? The cons seemed endless: a decade age gap, your extroverted nature clashing with his stoicism, your wild spirit at odds with his controlled demeanor. Not to mention the professional boundary – you were his employee, AND he was still navigating the aftermath of his recent divorce.

Your newfound awareness of your feelings for Hotch led to a desperate attempt at avoidance. It was hard, given how intertwined your lives had become over the months. For a week, you'd been dodging his texts, offering only cursory greetings, and maintaining a physical distance that felt painfully unnatural.

Hotch noticed the change immediately, and it gnawed at him. Your vibrant presence had become a constant in his life, a source of warmth he hadn't realized he'd come to depend on until it was suddenly gone.

He found himself missing the little rituals that had naturally developed between you. The morning car rides, once a practical solution to your car troubles, had evolved into a cherished start to each day. Your habit of bringing him a piece of candy during lunch breaks, with the excuse of "sweetening up his day," never failed to bring a smile to his face. Most of all, he missed the casual physical contact – the way you'd unconsciously place your hand on his arm when standing close, a gesture that grounded him more than he cared to admit.

As the week progressed, Hotch's concern deepened. Had he unknowingly offended you? He wracked his brain, trying to pinpoint any misstep. Perhaps the latest case had affected you more than usual, or maybe you were simply exhausted. Whatever the reason, he was determined to lift your spirits.

During his lunch break, Hotch made his way to your favorite café. The aroma of freshly baked goods enveloped him as he ordered your usual – a ham and cheese croissant and your preferred coffee blend. Back at the office, he noticed your empty desk and quickly left the bag before retreating to his office.

When you returned from the restroom, steeling yourself for an afternoon of paperwork, the sight of the familiar bag on your desk stopped you in your tracks. With trembling hands, you opened it to find the still-warm croissant and perfectly prepared coffee. Atop the container, a piece of candy was taped to a note that read: "To sweeten your day up! – Hotch"

Your heart swelled, a mix of joy and ache flooding your chest. Looking up, you caught Hotch watching you from his office window. Despite your best efforts to maintain distance, you couldn't help but offer him the radiant smile he'd come to cherish.

In that moment, the truth was undeniable. You were completely, utterly, and hopelessly in love with Aaron Hotchner. As your eyes locked with his, a flicker of something – hope, perhaps? – passed between you, hinting that maybe, just maybe, these obstacles weren't quite so impossible after all.

Oh, dear diary, we fell apart Welcome to the life of Electra Heart

Aaron Hotchner never imagined falling in love after Haley left. His life revolved around his job and Jack. He didn't need anyone else. That is, until you entered his life.

You were the first to sense something was wrong when he didn't answer his phone. Racing to his apartment, you found it covered in blood. With Penelope's help, you tracked him to a hospital, learning he'd been stabbed nine times.

When he opened his eyes and saw you, Hotch thought he'd died and gone to heaven. You looked angelic - an angel he couldn't bear to see harmed.

So when George Foyet shot him in his own home, Hotch realized he needed to end whatever was blossoming between you before you got hurt.

But you made it difficult.

The moment he was released, you were there every day, before and after work. Groceries, cleaning, anything to ease his burden. You knew how hard it was for him to send Haley and Jack away, how alone he must feel. You were determined to show him the team - and you - were there for him. For anything.

Driving him home after the Darrin Call case, where he'd recklessly entered a house without backup, your anger finally boiled over.

"What the hell were you thinking, Aaron?" you demanded, following him into his apartment. "No gun, no vest, no backup. Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Hotch turned, his face a mask of stone. "I knew the profile. I had it under control."

"Under control?" you scoffed. "If it were anyone else, you'd have suspended them! This isn't you, Aaron. What's going on?"

His eyes flashed. "What's going on is I'm the Unit Chief, and I don't answer to you. I think before I act, unlike some people."

The barb stung. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he said coldly. "Just find it ironic you're lecturing me on recklessness."

"I've never walked into a hostage situation alone and unarmed!" you countered.

"I don't have to explain myself," Hotch snapped. "Especially not to you. Get out."

Your eyes widened. "No. We're talking about this. You're spiraling, Aaron. This obsession with Foyet-"

"Stop. You have no idea what you're talking about."

"I know you're not alone in this!" you pleaded. "The team needs you. I need you."

Hotch laughed bitterly. "If you haven't noticed, I am alone. My son is gone. I have no one. And I won't rest until Foyet is dead."

Tears welled in your eyes. "You have us. You have me. We can figure this out together."

"There is no 'we,'" Hotch said, his voice cold and final. "There never was."

The words hit like a physical blow. "Don't say that. You know that's not true."

For a moment, his mask slipped, revealing the pain beneath. But then it was back, harder than ever. "I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression."

You stared at him, hurt turning to anger. "Go to hell, Hotchner," you spat, before storming out, leaving him alone with the wreckage of what might have been.

I'm Miss Sugar Pink, liquor, liquor lips Hit me with your sweet love, steal me with a kiss

Your relationship with Aaron had crumbled to dust. Since that night you stormed out of his apartment, you'd made it your mission to avoid him at all costs. Difficult, considering he was your boss.

You understood he was facing unimaginable challenges - the loss of his ex-wife, becoming a single parent. Part of you ached to support him, but you both needed space.

That space stretched into a year.

You'd left transfer papers on his desk days ago. Despite your love for the team, staying had become impossible. It wasn't fair to you or Hotch. Counter Terrorism Division beckoned - a fresh start.

You hadn't told the team yet, dreading their reactions. You'd become their wild, sassy, overdramatic little sister. But tonight wasn't about goodbyes. It was Spencer's birthday, and Derek had chosen a club to celebrate. You wouldn't miss it for the world.

Arriving in a hot pink mini dress and matching heels, you spotted the team immediately.

"Happy birthday, Boy Genius!" you exclaimed, hugging Spencer tight.

"Please," he whispered, "get me out of here. Derek's trying to set me up with his friend."

You laughed, ruffling his hair. "No can do, Spence. It's your night. Go crazy. I promise not to film anything too embarrassing."

Turning to greet the others, you froze. Hotch was there. You hugged everyone but him, pointedly avoiding his gaze.

"Damn, girl! You're on fire!" Penelope gushed, clearly tipsy.

Emily nodded appreciatively. "I'm borrowing those heels."

"You know how to make a girl feel special," you winked. "First round's on me!"

An hour later, you were dancing with Penelope and Spencer, the alcohol buzzing through your veins. Suddenly, Spencer spun you – right into Hotch's arms. You glared at Spencer, who mouthed 'Karma' with a smirk.

The tension was strong as you and Hotch swayed silently. You wanted to escape, yet craved his touch.

"You requested a transfer," he stated, his voice low.

You quirked an eyebrow. "Did you sign it?"

"No."

You pulled back, stunned. "What do you mean, no?"

"We need to talk first."

Anger flared. "You're unbelievable," you spat, pushing past him and out of the club. He followed close behind.

"Y/N, please-"

You whirled to face him. "There's nothing to say. It's been a year, Hotch. Whatever we had is dead."

"You don't mean that," he insisted, his eyes burning into yours.

The alcohol amplified your emotions. "I do. I'm over it. Over you. There's nothing left to talk about."

"Then I'll talk, and you listen," he said firmly, gripping your shoulders. "There was a 'we'. Everything I said that night – it was a lie. To keep you safe from Foyet. He was targeting everyone I loved. I couldn't risk losing you."

Your heart stuttered. "You... loved me?"

"I still do," he breathed, cupping your face. "This past year has been hell. Not having you by my side – our carpool chats, sneaking candy, just... you. It was torture. I'll do anything to earn your forgiveness."

You wanted to resist, to make him suffer longer. But the alcohol, the longing, the raw emotion in his voice – it was too much. You threw your arms around him, burying your face in his neck.

You both exhaled, tension melting away. It felt right. It felt like coming home.

"I love you too," you murmured, then pulled back with a stern look. "But you've got a lot of making up to do."

He pressed his forehead to yours. "I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if I have to. You deserve the world, Y/N, and I intend to give it to you."

Your lips met in a soft, tentative kiss, full of promise and the weight of a year apart.

As you parted, you whispered, "This doesn't mean I'm not still furious with you."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

I'm Miss Sugar Pink, liquor, liquor lips I'm gonna be your bubblegum bitch

Again, you were trouble. Even after two years together, you definitely kept him on his toes. Not transferring and working alongside your boyfriend made for an interesting way to live.

“What you did was stupid and reckless, Y/N.” Aaron's voice was stern as the team boarded the jet to head back home. The case had been a success, but it came at the cost of you getting into the unsub’s car without any weapons. Fortunately, you had your team.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at him. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me, Y/N. I’m serious.”

“Ooooo, Mom and Dad are fighting,” Spencer teased from across the jet.

“Shut up, Spencer,” you snapped, making him raise his hands in mock surrender. Then, you turned to Hotch. “You know damn well I needed to get into his car. If I didn’t and you caught him, he would’ve acted like he was just trying to get with me.”

Aaron rubbed the side of his head. Migraines. You gave him migraines. “The plan was for you to walk down the street, and the moment you were alone with him, we would get him. You went rogue.”

You rolled your eyes again. “Well, technically we were alone, and you did get him.”

He was about to argue again, but you wrapped your arms around his neck, giving him your infamous puppy dog face. “Aaron, I’m okay. You know I did what I had to do to catch him. I’m sorry I worried you, but I’m not sorry for helping bring him in.”

He sighed, knowing you were right, and he could never stay mad at you. “I hated every second of it. My heart stopped the moment you got into that damn car.”

You smiled and pecked him on the lips. “Hey, you always said I was going to give you a heart attack.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes before he kissed you. “You have, and you most definitely will again.”

“Hey, that’s what you love about me.”

“That is true.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #ssa aaron hotchner #thomas gibson #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #Aaron Hotchner #bau team #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch x y/n

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yawnderu · 1 year ago

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Thin Walls — Keegan P. Russ x Reader

Dbf!Keegan collab with the amazing @moosch MWAH

Check out her amazing drawing on this<3

There were rare times Keegan felt like he may have chosen the wrong job. Right now? Covered in dirt and grime, seeking shelter in an abandoned building with the rest of the ghosts after a particularly hard mission was one of those moments. What was supposed to be a three hour mission went downhill and turned into four long days of chasing down an enemy for intel.

The first thing he did as soon as the building was cleared was to fish for his phone, reading the thread of messages he had from you; ranging from telling him about your day, to complaining about missing him and how he owes you a shopping spree for going dark. He rolled his eyes, a deep chuckle rumbling out of his chest and escaping his lips. A new text caught his attention, scrolling down to read it.

Brat: [16:38]

I see you online, can we ft? Papa wants to see u :)

He stares at your message for a few seconds, considering his chances. Keegan looks like shit— eye black smudged messily all over his face, uniform dirty and muddy, a streak of dried up blood dripping down his forehead, and icy blue eyes so tired you would think he died and was never informed. He didn't want you or your father; his best friend, to see him at his worst.

Glucose Father: [16:40]

Sorry princess, signs too shitty for that. Send me some pics of that bratty face and maybe I'll take you shopping when I'm back?

He internally cringed at the text, rarely even using his phone unless it was to text your father and you. His fingers tap on the sides of his phone as he waited for a reply, putting the idle chatter of the ghosts in the back of his mind as he went to another room with the excuse of being able to get some sleep once and for all.

For a second, he ignored the phone vibrating in his hand, leaning against the wall and sitting down with a groan, sore muscles finally able to rest, even if only for a few hours.

Brat [16:43]

Sent 6 attachments.

His tired eyes drifted down to his phone, opening the message and being received by the sight of you, a smile adorning your pretty face. His gaze softened and his pants tightened as he noticed you wearing one of his shirts, fitting into it so much better than he could. He stayed quiet for a few seconds, listening to the chatter on the other side of the thin wall before his free hand drifted down to his growing bulge, holding back a groan as he palmed his sensitive cock over his pants.

"Fuck..." He whispered, hesitantly lowering his fly enough to pull his dick out, gloveless hand feeling the length of it before he started stroking slowly, moving his hand up and down while he looked at your pictures. They were completely innocent pictures, really, simply showing your pretty face and bright smile, yet he couldn't help it.

He was trying his best to be quiet despite how good jerking off felt after so much stress. His head was tilted back against the wall, eyes screwed shut as his mind came up with the filthiest fucking images, thinking of your lips wrapped around his cock, struggling to take him as he fucked your face. He could just imagine the noises that would come out of you as his thick dick was shoved all the way down your throat, a deep growl coming out of his lips as his rough fingers massaged his tip, spreading the leaking precum and using it as lube to jerk off better.

He swapped to another photo of you smiling brightly at the camera, holding up a piece sign. What a fucking sight for sore eyes. He imagined your pretty face glazed in his thick white cum, tongue tainted by his seed. His hand involuntary moved faster and harder up and down his cock, applying more pressure with each stroke until he had to bite his lip to stop himself from making too much noise, aware enough of the thin walls.

He couldn't wait to go back home to you, making you cuddle up to him and holding you like a lifeline, the plush of your ass pressing up against his cock as you allowed him to grope you, his hands grasping at as much as he could grab while his hard clothed cock rubbed against your ass. You're killing me, brat.

A deep, low moan came out of his lips his cock twitched in his hand, balls tightening up as ropes of thick, white cum shot out, covering his hand. He squeezed his cock a little bit tighter, making sure all his cum was out, taking another look at your pretty face in the selfies before he began cleaning up.

Evidence hidden and with his cock back in his pants he stepped back into the room with the other ghosts, instantly met with the amused faces of Ajax and Kick, clearly holding in their laughter.

"Had some fun, bro?" Ajax asked, not even able to hold in his laugh anymore, Kick following right after.

"Yeah, yeah." Keegan grumbled, rolling his eyes as he sat down and pulled out his flask.

"Next time I'll do it in the same room as you motherfuckers." Logan's frown deepened.

#cod ghosts x reader #cod ghosts #keegan russ #keegan p russ #cod keegan #keegan russ x reader #keegan x reader #keegan russ smut #keegan p russ x reader #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x y/n

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listentoace · 7 months ago

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Trigger Warning: Death Feederism, Emotional Abuse, Heavy Manipulation, Gaslighting

Look, I know I told you that I'd stop fattening you up once you decided you wanted to stop, but I won't. And I believe you knew that from the beginning. I think you just had to lie to yourself in order to let go and give in. I have just enabled you, that's it. You've done all of this to yourself. You just kept eating. You kept ordering junk food. You kept asking for snacks. You could have just said no, you could've stopped. But did you?

You know I love the extreme. You knew what you were in for. All those times when you asked me how fat would be fat enough, I kept telling you there is no such thing as fat enough. We both know you're too far down the road to stop. Your habits have changed, your appetite is immense, and we both know you're just deeply addicted to the feeling you get from stuffing yourself. If you seriously want to stop, you would need my help. You would not be strong and disciplined enough to stop by yourself. You'll keep eating and suffering from the consequences until that clogged heart of yours gives out.

I'm not helping you. Why would I? I'll always want you fatter, always. There is absolutely no reason for me not to further enable you and watch you further ruin yourself. It's just so hot. I doubt anyone would help you. Heck, you're so fat, you can barely leave the house by now. You know you'd be absolutely fucked without me. You may not have realized it, but you depend on me. Who does all the cleaning? Who gets the groceries? Who brings in the money? It's me. And yes, I know I talked you into a sedentary lifestyle. I talked you into quitting your job. But you made the decision, not me. You chose the sedentary lifestyle of a fattened house pig. I simply enabled you to choose that option.

And just like that, I'll let you chose again. You'll either keep eating, keep getting fatter, and enjoy another 1-2 pleasurable years until your heart pops, or I'm gone, and you'll have to figure things out by yourself. Your best bet would probably be to apply for disability. You don't even fit into a regular office desk anymore, so I doubt anybody will be stupid enough to give you a job. But it's up to you. You have made every decision that brought you here, and this next one is up to you too. So what's it going to be? ~

#weight gain encouragement #feedee encouragement #fat encouragement #feeding kink #gaining weight on purpose #gaining kink #death feederism #death feedist

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dreamescapeswriting · 6 months ago

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Got Your Back ~ Skz

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅WORD COUNT: 2.4k

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅PAIRING: Stray kids x reader

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅GENRE: Established relationships, friends, platonic, cute, fluffy, chan being comforting, boys trying to help out, non idol au,

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - October 2024

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅MASTERLIST

You sit at the dining table, staring blankly at your laptop. The congratulatory messages about your MBA graduation had rolled in, but instead of the sense of accomplishment you expected, there’s only confusion and uncertainty. The question that haunted you: What now?

No one had told you what you were supposed to do now, fully out of education and thrown into the world where you had no idea how anything even operated.

Across from you, Seungmin leans over, trying to peek at your screen. You'd been crashing at their apartment for the time being while you figured out your next move. All of them were happy to have you around, and they had the spare rooms so they hadn't minded you being there at all.

"Still searching for jobs?" he asks casually, his voice light but not helping much. You glanced away from the screen for a second and met his brown eyes that were already sinking into yours,

"Yeah... just trying to figure things out," you murmur, sighing. You've been at this for hours, scouring job boards, but nothing seems to fit. The weight of expectations, both from others and yourself presses down on you. You wanted to do something with the degree, but everything you'd applied for was shooting you down due to lack of 'experience' but how were you supposed to get experience if no one was willing to hire you in the first place?

Jisung slouches on the couch, his playful grin is evident as he waves his phone in your direction.''

"You could always just be a professional napper. I heard there’s demand for that!" His attempt at lightening the mood only adds to your frustration. You knew he was just trying to make you laugh, they all were but somehow they only seemed to make you feel worse about everything.

You didn't want to spend the next few months freeloading off them and mooching your days away on their sofa,

"I wish it were that easy..." You try to smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. You stared back at the screen, looking through the emails of rejections you'd gotten for the last week and it was making you want to slam your head in the laptop and never look at it again.

Jeongin comes up behind you, giving your shoulder a little squeeze. He could sense that everything was starting to pile up on top of you, they'd been trying to get you to take a couple days to yourself but nothing was working yet.

"Hey, you’ll figure it out. You're literally the smartest person I know!" His words, while kind, don’t quite soothe the gnawing anxiety building up inside you. Felix plops next to you, laying his head on your arm with his deep voice chiming in,

"You’ve got so much time. Why not take a break for a bit and bake with me? Sometimes, stepping away helps...Besides you JUST graduated...you deserve some time off to relax," Though his offer sounds comforting, it doesn’t seem like the solution you need right now. You can feel the boys' efforts to help, but somehow, it all falls short. The uncertainty continues to swirl in your mind, the questions you knew you'd face if you didn't go straight into a job.

"How about we all get food and come back with a fresh set of eyes later?" Chan suggested as he watched you from the doorway. If anyone could get you to do something it would be him and you bit down on your lip,

"it'll be here when you get back, food is essential in life." He told you, and you could tell by the stern look on his face that he wasn't going to drop this easily.

"Fine. One meal." You mumbled as the others practically raced to the door to go and get their stuff ready. Chan watched as you reluctantly shut the laptop screen and got up, making your way over to him.

"I'll help you in any way I can, you know that," Chan whispered as he wrapped his arms around your shoulder and led you toward the others.

"But-"

"Staring at a screen for 24 hours a day isn't going to change anything. You need relaxation, you need a fresh space." He said while cutting you off. He couldn't stand the thought of you sitting there for HOURS on end torturing yourself over not being able to get anything you were applying for. You needed some time away.

It was late, far too late for you to still be awake, but here you were, sitting at the kitchen table once again with a cup of coffee long gone cold. The screen in front of you is blurred from hours of scrolling through job listings. Each click led to more pressure, another wave of doubt. The meal you'd gone out for earlier felt like it had been days ago but it had only been six hours, while it had been nice to get out it did nothing to calm you.

You'd spent the whole dinner pretending to listen to the guys as they spoke but you were agonising in your own mind about what you were supposed to do next.

“Still at it?” Chan’s voice cut through the quiet hum of your laptop. You hadn’t even noticed him walking in. You glance over your shoulder, feeling guilty that you'd been caught when you'd promised him you would leave it for the night. But Chan had known all too well you weren't just going to drop it.

"Yeah, I just—there’s so much to do, and I feel like I’m falling behind." You admitted and for the first time in a long time, it finally felt good to say it out loud. You hadn't wanted to tell the others but it was true. A part of you felt as though you were going to end up failing and never using the degree you'd worked hard for over the last few years.

Chan shakes his head gently, coming over to sit beside you on one of the chairs, his gaze lingers on the clock on the kitchen wall.

"It’s 2 a.m. You should be resting." You could hear the playful scolding coming from him but you shook your head,

"I can’t," you mutter, rubbing your temples. Everything felt as though it was too much right now, like there was a growing pressure pinning you down and if you didn't find something soon you were going to be crushed beneath it all.

"What if I don’t find something soon? What if I wasted all this time for nothing?" The stress in your voice is evident, your anxiety bubbling to the surface. Chan reaches out, softly closing your laptop before you can protest, he slides it off the table and puts it on the chair beside him.

“You’re going to burn yourself out if you keep pushing like this.” Something you'd told him countless times when he was working himself into the ground, but just because you gave him advice didn't mean you had to take it,

“I don’t have time to relax, Chan. I need to figure this out,” you say, your voice a bit sharper than you intended, but he doesn’t flinch, he just watches you with a weak smile on his lips.

"You do have time," he replies calmly. "You just graduated, and no one expects you to have everything sorted right away. It’s okay to take a break." He tugs you gently, guiding you away from the table and forces you to walk into the living room where he dropped you on the sofa beside him.

"I just... I don’t want to fail," you admit quietly, the vulnerability of your words surprising even yourself. You laid your head on his shoulder as he ran his hands up and down your arm softly.

"You won’t fail. But if you keep going like this, you’ll wear yourself out. Then you really won’t be able to move forward." You sigh, feeling the tension in your body refusing to leave.

"I don’t know how to stop thinking about it."

“Then let me help you stop.” His voice is soft, but there’s a firmness in his tone. He reaches out, grabbing one of your hands and gently squeezing, he would do anything to help you shut off for a while.

"For tonight, just... be here. No more job searching, no more stressing. Just relax with me." You don’t answer immediately, your mind still racing with the thoughts of what needs to be done, but his thumb gently strokes the back of your hand, grounding you in the present.

Chan shifts, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV. The soft flicker of a random show fills the room, casting a warm glow around you both. He pulls you closer, and before you know it, your head is resting on his shoulder. His steady presence has an almost immediate calming effect, the weight of the world slowly lifting off your shoulders.

"You’re not alone in this, okay?" Chan murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’ll help you figure everything out. You have more time than you think." You sniffled a little as you listened to him, taking his words in and nodding your head.

Your shoulders slump as you sighed a little and finally admit everything you'd been holding back,

"I just... I feel stuck. I worked so hard for this degree, but now I don’t even know what I want to do next." Chan’s gaze softens as he listens carefully. He lets you speak about your worries, your fears, and the pressure you're feeling.

“I get it,” he says after a pause. “It’s a tough transition. But you don’t have to figure it all out in one go. Maybe you can start with small steps.” You blink, looking over at him, the TV long forgotten as you stare at him.

“Small steps?” Chan nods.

“Yeah. I know it’s overwhelming when you think about everything at once but maybe focus on just one thing that excites you. We can start there.” You nod at him about to talk when he shakes his head at you.

"But I order for the next couple of days you're to relax...take time...okay?" He squeezed you closer to him as you settled back into the comfort of his arms and the TV.

It had been a few weeks since your graduation, and though you tried to relax, the pressure to figure out your next step weighed heavily on you. Chan had been your rock during this time, always knowing when to pull you away from your laptop, forcing you to take breaks and reminding you that you didn’t need to have everything figured out just yet.

But one night, after another long day of scrolling through endless job postings, you felt like you were back at square one. You sighed, leaning back against the couch, the glow of your screen casting shadows on your tired face.

Chan noticed. He always did. He came over, sitting beside you and peeking at your screen.

"Still nothing?" he asked softly, staring at the email you'd gotten that had once again rejected you.

"Nothing that feels right," you admitted, rubbing your eyes. You were starting to get a tension headache and all you wanted to do was cry.

"It’s like I’m going in circles. I don’t even know what I’m looking for anymore." Chan leaned back, his fingers drumming lightly on his knee as he thought for a moment.

"You know… I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something," he began, glancing over at you. "I’ve got a friend—well, more like a connection in the industry. They’re looking for someone with your exact qualifications." You stared at him and blinked. Chan worked in the music industry and you'd never really thought about asking him for help until now.

"Really?"

"Yeah," he smiled. "It’s not one of those big corporate jobs, but it’s a start. You’d be working in a creative environment, helping manage some marketing campaigns and operations. I think you’d be great at it." The idea sparked something in you—interest, hope.

"Do you think they’d want to talk to me?" Chan chuckled, nodding.

"I might have already sent them your info. They were interested as soon as I mentioned your MBA." You gaped at him, caught between surprise and gratitude.

"Wait, you already told them about me? Chan, why didn’t you say anything?"

"I wanted to wait until you were ready," he said, his voice gentle. "I know you've been feeling a lot of pressure, and I didn’t want to overwhelm you. But I think this could be a really good opportunity for you." You felt a surge of emotions—relief, excitement, and most of all, gratitude for how thoughtful and supportive he had been during this whole process. Tears were starting to build up inside of your eyes and you whined a litt;e.

"Are you serious? I—I don’t even know what to say," you stammered, feeling a warmth spread through you. Chan grinned, nudging you lightly with his shoulder.

"Just say you’ll think about it. There’s no rush. But I think it could be the right step for you, and I’m always here to help if you need anything along the way." You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, your heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks. For the first time, something felt right.

"I’ll think about it," you promised, your voice soft but hopeful.

A few days later, you found yourself on a call with Chan’s contact. The conversation went well—better than you had expected—and when you hung up, you immediately messaged Chan.

I got the interview! They want me to start next week if everything goes well!

His reply came almost instantly: I knew you’d be perfect for it. You’ve got this!

Sitting there, staring at the screen, you realized how much Chan had helped you—not just by finding the opportunity but by being the constant support you needed through all the uncertainty.

Later that night, you sat beside Chan again, feeling more at peace than you had in weeks. The two of you were watching a TV show together that had become your way to relax during times of stress and now it was the routine you shared.

"You really saved me, you know that?" you said quietly. He shook his head, giving you that soft, reassuring smile.

"Nah, you did all the hard work. I just gave you a little nudge." He winks at you and you smile, leaning your head on his shoulder.

"Well, thank you. For everything." Chan wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close.

"Anytime. You know I’ve got your back."

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @s3ungm1nxxl0ve

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inconveniently-discorporated · 2 years ago

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My heart hurts so bad for Aziraphale because I can honestly just relate to him so, so, so much.

(not putting this one under a cut so warning season 2 ahead, I'll tag it at the bottom too)

Aziraphale says, "Nothing lasts forever," but I don't believe for a second he doesn't wish that it did.

He WANTS things to go back to how they used to be. He WANTS the seraphic Crowley squealing with joy as he cranks up the universal machine and sets the stars aflame. He WANTS there to be no sides, he WANTS to believe in the idea of the host united, he WANTS to go back before Crowley got himself in trouble by asking questions. He wants, I think, to be in that moment of creation and adoration forever.

Change seems to frighten him. There's an aspect of uncertainty. There's an element of chaos, the loss of control. I understand this deeply. And what the Metatron offered him was just that: certainty, control, the ability to dictate his own narrative.

I used to be in a toxic job. On top of it, I had intense anxiety and other undiagnosed neurodivergencies that made it even harder to fit in and understand the untold rules I was supposed to follow to get along. When I first got there, it wasn't so bad -- perhaps I was, like Aziraphale, also a bit idealistic. Then there were some changes that brought instability, significant more anxiety, and a lot of nights spent agonizing over my lack of control over it all.

My friends and significant other tried to convince me to leave, but I didn't want to. I didn't know what else was out there. I didn't know if it would be worse. I didn't know what kind of stability it would have.

Then my manager left, so that spot opened up. I had worked there for a long time, and honestly, I never saw myself going into management. I didn't think I could. I wasn't sure I even wanted to. All of that extra stress, on me? Not to mention, getting FURTHER into the job that was taking a massive toll on me? But then...

Then I would have control. Then I could run things the way *I* had always thought they should run. I wouldn't need to worry about who would replace my manager and whether my life would be a living hell -- I would make it what I wanted it to be. Upper management was really pushing for it, so I applied.

To make a long story short: I don't think it went very well. I didn't have the support I needed. I didn't have the emotional skills I needed. I think I did my best, but I'm not fond of those times. At the time, I was SURE that I wanted to move up even more, I was SURE this would make it all better. I thought this was what I REALLY wanted.

But that's not what I needed. What I needed was to get out, and eventually I did. Even as ready as I was to leave, it was absolutely agonizing. I could barely stand to handle the unknown. I was going to work together with my spouse, actually, and I was so excited for that, but I still... I still was upset and worried sick over the dramatic change that would befall my life, after I had made the decision to leave.

That's where I can relate to Aziraphale. I wonder what would've happened if, before I had actually left for good, the head honchos had come up to me and said, "We want to keep you -- how about we offer you (an even higher position)?" -- would I have said no, or would I have wanted to make a difference?

Funny, I said exactly that, too. That's almost why I didn't change jobs in the first place. I said, "But I feel like I'm really making a difference with what I'm doing now." But what pushed me over the edge was realizing that none of that mattered to them, it was all about THEIR control of ME, not the other way around.

I'm so intensely curious to see what happens with Aziraphale next, but I'm sure he will learn what Crowley understands: nothing lasts forever, and sometimes it's good that it doesn't -- even if sometimes we wish it did.

#good omens #gos2 spoilers #good omens meta #Aziraphale analysis

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seat-safety-switch · 2 months ago

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Spray paint: somehow, it always costs at least five times what you think it should, and lasts a third as long. This holds true even if you are heading back to the store for a second or third visit, to buy more cans because you ran out halfway through a job.

For as long as I can remember, I've always loved to paint. Maybe it was the indoctrination of the radical schools that I went to, with their "share circles" and "sand tables." God, I loved the sand table. Even with the kernel of bad car love already popping away inside my still-plastic (now mostly microplastic) brain, I could appreciate nothing more than to cover an area with fresh paint. Order from chaos. Beauty from nature's leavings.

I was wrong, of course. Nowadays, I know that the natural order of things, the wabi-sabi if you ask the weird dude at my local sushi restaurant who is definitely not from Japan, is beautiful. Don't cover decay in bright primary colours, but celebrate it instead. Work to change yourself first, not just hose the world down with pigment and grunt that you got too much orange peel.

That said, the organic development of rust on the bottom of my Volare does mean that I'll fall out of the damn car if I go over a speedbump too hard, so I am interested in applying paint as a protective measure at the minimum. And so, I found myself at the store, buying the cheapest shit spray paint they make, hoping that "black rust" would somehow be less likely to eject me onto the highway than "exposed rust."

Friends: these cans suck ass. And they're too big to shove into your pocket for easy shoplifting. That's why I bring my car into the Home Depot through the garden centre during busy times. All you have to do is pull some cans off the shelf, and go right to town on the undercarriage. Fits right through the forklift-friendly entry doors, although I will admit that I've done quite a bit of damage to the sides of the car trying to get back out again. It's my own fault: I was not paying a lot of attention to precision driving while trying to flee from the security guards. Don't worry, though. I bet a fresh coat of paint will make it seem like nothing ever happened.

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paracosmic-murdock · 2 months ago

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vigilante like me

chapter seven: you hang from my lips like the gardens of babylon

pairing: matt murdock x black widow!vigilante!reader

summary: nights and nights of playing the hero as if that could redeem you that easily ended up taking you to new york, where you accidentally met the man who would turn your world upside down. a vigilante like you.

warnings/tags: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, injuries, mentions of murder and themes explored in the past couple chapters, mentions of reader being able to wear matt's clothes but it's not specified whether they're too big/too small/fit perfectly/etc., phd in applied flirting and ma in yearning studies, some smut (minors dni), takes place sometime during the blip, when born again comes out we might find out if my decisions of who were gone were right, spoilers/references of stuff and themes from daredevil (2015); avengers: infinity war (2018); avengers: endgame (2019) black widow (2021); and hawkeye (2021), but y'all must've watched all of those already so idc, yelena belova and the themes and events from the black widow (2021) movie are very relevant in this plot, song: cowboy like me (taylor swift)

word count: 2.9K

✰ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

Who would you call if you killed someone? That is the question.

As a Black Widow, you never really cared about hiding a body… you found your target, got the job done, and left. You never stuck around long enough to find out anything. Either way, you have nobody to call in case you ever had to hide a body or get an alibi. You don't think you would need anybody for that, right? You know enough.

But, who would Matt Murdock call if he killed somebody? Would he call anybody at all? He is not the kind of person who would burden anybody else with his faults if he can help it. Both knowledge and involvement are a heavy weight to carry, and Matt isn't willing to put anybody —much less if it is a person he loves— in that position; there is enough with those who already know he is Daredevil. However, he knows that there is one person in his life right now that wouldn't judge him and would be glad to help him carry such a cross—to ease his guilt.

That someone is you, he knows that all too well. That is why he couldn't tell you what happened; what he did.

He just returned home, took a long shower, a habit he had recently gotten from you, and went to sleep on his couch.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of your phone. It was 7 AM, and your boss was calling you for God only knows what. Then, you remembered what had happened the previous night and the way he probably just found the gym.

“Hello?”

“Dear God, are you alright?!”

You cleared your throat. “I take it that you are in Fogwell's already.”

“Yeah! What the Hell happened here?! I saw the security footage right away, God!”

“Security footage?” you asked, fearing for yourself and for Matt's identity.

“Yes, where are you?”

“At home,” you lied, making a grin of guilt you knew he couldn't see.

He sighed. “How do you feel?”

“Like shit, of course,” you replied. “Can you not… tell the cops about this?”

“Sure, so the guy who drugged you and left you there and the other guy who tried to kill you can be free and get away with it?”

“Basically,” you replied, preparing yourself for him to disagree. “Look, I can't get involved with the cops, you know that.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I'll make up for it,” you promised. “I'll be there today. 9 AM, Boss.”

“Oh, don't you dare,” he answered. You swear you could see his upset face staring at you, outraged like a father. “If you actually die in the workplace, I'll have way more issues, you know? Just… I'll come see you at lunch break. Do you need anything?”

You hummed. “I need you to delete that footage. Please.”

“Alright, I will,” He sighed. “What happened with- uh, you know. The guy who saved you?”

“I told him to take me home and not to worry,” you lied, again. “He, uh… left when I called a friend that's a doctor. You know Louis? He trains at Fogwell's almost everyday. He's an ortho surgeon, which is convenient, right?”

“I hope you're not lying to me, young lady.”

“You don't have to come see me, Bobby,” you chuckled. “I'm okay, and there's a friend with me here.”

“Do you even have friends?”

“An incredibly tiny amount and half as many as I used to.”

“What? Four to two?” he questioned, all ironic.

“You're a smart one, aren't you?”

He scoffed. “You're suspended for a week for being mean to your boss and also you're taking a few sick days. You must be eighty percent dead. Paid.”

“I'll take a three-day leave.”

“Make it five. And you'll take it easy once you're back, alright? Promise.”

“Okay, I promise.” You curved your lips slightly.

“I'll come see you tomorrow morning,” he announced. “I'll take Marlene with me and we'll bring you a nice breakfast.”

You sighed. “I don't want to put any of you at risk, okay? I'm not sure what those people truly wanted, but what I do know is that they could target anybody close to me.”

“I can take care of myself,”

“Those were the good old days,” you reminded him. “I'm gonna be back as good as new. You know that if there's someone in Fogwell's who can take a beating, it's me.”

“You remind me of someone, Y/N,” Bobby commented with a smile you couldn't see but you felt it in his voice. It was one of affection, very fatherly.

Your idea of fatherhood is based on some movies or shows. You always thought he was the model of a great father, at least he was always that way with you: dumb dad jokes you pretended not to laugh at, always protective of you despite you constantly telling him not to worry, and believing in you and helping you no matter what. Bobby Fogwell was a great boss, a great father figure, and a way greater person.

If there was somebody who didn't deserve to carry the burden of you or be affected by your shit, that was definitely him.

“Who would that be, sir?” you asked.

“There was a boxer here back in the good old days,” Bobby began. “Good at punching but somehow better at taking a punch. One thing about him? He never stayed down. He knew the floor very well and knew that's not where he belonged. Lost more than he ever won, but his conviction used to make it seem like he could never lose.”

“Do you think I've lost more than I've ever won, Bobby?”

He clicked his tongue. “Would you ever let me finish?”

“You stopped talking!”

“To breathe, damn,” You knew he rolled his eyes. “Alright, so… He had a son; a single father he was. The boy was in an accident when he was a kid, I think he was nine or ten, I'm not sure. The thing is: God, he did everything for his kid… when you see what parents sacrifice for their children, that's when you look at yourself and realize when and where you're failing. I'm not saying he was perfect, but he was damn good. And you must be wondering what that has to do with you, right?”

“Right,”

He chuckled. “I think you have never been one to look beyond the present, and I know you haven't really gotten around to care about someone else, but you'd be the best at it. You always stand up, no matter how awful those punches are, and I need you to look in the mirror and tell yourself that you can do anything; nothing can end you.”

“You really wanna see me all beaten up, don't you?” you questioned him, trying to suppress a laugh.

Bobby did laugh. “I'm gonna put you in the ring, lady. We'll make thousands out of you.”

“Will we? What would my stage name be?”

“I've actually thought about it. My go-to is Black Widow, you know? Because you're Russian like Natasha Romanoff and you're a damn good fighter.”

You clicked your tongue, trying to ignore how much being called a Black Widow by someone who didn't know any better really hurt you. “Did the man that I remind you of have a better stage name? I can't accept that.”

“Battlin’ Jack Murdock.”

Listening to that name made your heart jump. Of course it was Matt's father, and of course you felt like you had invaded his privacy by knowing what happened to him as a kid.

“That's a badass name,” you commented, looking at the door as you felt Matt's presence join you in his bedroom as if you had just summoned him. He had a tray in his hands but you didn't really pay attention. “I'm honored.”

“Damn right you should be,” He laughed. “Anyway, I won't take anymore of your time. Get well soon, okay? And rest a lot.”

“Will do, Boss.” You hung up the call.

“Work?”

You hummed. “Yeah. Bobby has security cameras now, but don't worry, I got him to delete the footage.”

“That's good to know, I guess.”

“Yeah, you're safe,” you noted. “He saw that you saved me, though.”

“So I heard.”

“Show off.” You scoffed.

Matt shook his head and smiled lightly. “I brought you breakfast.”

“Such a gentleman,” You lifted a corner of your lips while he sat beside you, looking incredibly handsome in his midnight blue dress suit for work. “I've only ever seen this in the movies.”

“Now you can say you've experienced it.”

You stared at his face. You couldn't help it. He was just so…

“Oh, you like me that much, sweetheart?” Matt grinned.

You just stood up. “Shut up. Give me a toothbrush.”

“I left one for you near the sink. It's the one that doesn't look used.”

“Copy that.”

“Do you not like me, then?” Matt questioned you, increasing the volume of his voice as you left the room.

“I don't. You're absolutely hideous and I might need a paper bag hiding your face once I'm back.” you muttered on your way, knowing he could hear you.

He laughed. “Was that a joke?”

“That was the truth.” you denied before starting to brush your teeth.

You didn't expect what you saw once you were back in the room.

“You're a kid,” You shook your head, taking a seat beside him. “Definitely. Are you seven?”

“No.”

You ripped the paper bag open. “Gross face. So hard on the eye.”

Matt smiled and brought you closer. “I hope you're not ugly because there can't be two of us.”

“Disgusting,” You kissed him. “Can't believe I like you this much.”

He brought you even closer and kissed you again, wishing he could do so and never, ever stop. Maybe having you like this would help him forget the one thing that has been driving him insane since the previous night, though you were the reason he did what he did.

Matt can't even say what he did. That would make it real, putting it a name.

“Hello?”

You inhaled, trying to muster the strength to speak. “Hi, Sveta.”

“Hi!” She greeted you cheerfully. You curved your lips softly as you heard how excited she was to speak to you. “You've forgotten about me.”

“I could never forget about you,” you replied. “Actually, I was thinking about having lunch with you today, are you in?”

“Yeah, of course,” she agreed. “We could go to that restaurant near my place, is that okay? It's the one that's right across the street.”

“Italian?”

“Yep.”

“Alright, see you there. 1 PM is alright?”

She hummed. “Perfect. See you.”

Waiting until Matt left for his office to make the call drove you far too anxious for your own good. So, when the rough calculations told you he must be at this workplace already, you gave yourself the freedom to make the call that was begging you to be made.

You decided you were going to stop fighting. It was of no use anymore.

During the hours of introspection in which Matt was out being Daredevil and you were failing to fall asleep in his bed, you came to the conclusion that you weren't doing anything to help anybody. It was all much more an excuse, or maybe you just weren't able to stop fighting because it's all you've ever known in life. Who are you if not a fighter?

That is what you had to find out, and now you had a reason to get an answer. Just because something is all you've ever known, it doesn't mean that it's all that you are.

However, it doesn't mean you should start right now. Maybe the process could wait until you found them. Because they did you dirty, and you couldn't really fathom how much until you were staring at yourself on your phone's screen.

There was no way in hell you could hide the fact that you had taken a beating not too long ago. It was so bad that you knew even under the average New Yorker's careless eyes, it was quite obvious with the way you stood, the way you walked, and the stitched cuts all over your body.

Either way, you did your best with Matt's clothes. Yours were all ripped and torn from the attack you had received, not to mention full of blood.

As you had a moment to do what you feared—looking at yourself, you felt tears running down your cheeks. You hadn't cried in five years, when Yelena was blipped, and before that, a couple years after she found you and showed you some other of the files Natasha had gotten from the Red Room, the one that said how you specifically were selected and later taken from your family. Reading how those routine genetic tests they perform at hospitals to pregnant women and their fetuses were just given to the wrong hands so they could find perfect matches for the model of girls they wanted for their Black Widow program, how the doctors would be so careful with the mothers of these girls and their pregnancies, how everyone just faked a baby's death to give them to the Dreykov, and how you were one of those. Just knowing that there wasn't any further information about you, wherever you were born and who your family was was so devastating that it made you shed a few tears. Before that, you cried when you killed Olga, and before that, the last day of an undercover mission in Naples when you were seven years old. The only souvenir you had from there was the last name of the Widow who pretended to be your mother, Katerina Volkova. You kept it as your own later. Those are the only happy years you know you have lived.

Now, you believed you could find happiness again; one as beautiful as how a child's innocence is, and you could only get there once you had the peace that will come when Fyodor and Crosby are gone.

It was ironic how a fake face was the only thing that made you feel safe. As if only someone else deserves peace, not you. Never you… So, you wore it as you left Matt's apartment building and got to yours in a cab.

You quickly checked your apartment for any possible intruder, so paranoid you could pass out from the stress.

Thankfully, it was all clear.

You found a bigger bag and saved some clothes, knives, all your guns but the one in the fridge, bullets, money, makeup, medicine, first aid kit, coffee, laptop, and a book you had bought but never read. You thought you might have to stay with Matt for a couple days at least and you had to be ready.

When you got back to Matt's apartment, you left your bag in a corner, changed your clothes, and left for the restaurant you and Svetlana would have lunch at.

The thing you weren't counting on was Matt going to his place with lunch for you, spotting you leaving far too easily.

So he followed you.

You and Svetlana had your lunch and got up to date with each other's lives. It was easy talking to someone who understood your struggles and shared a past.

She was always easy to read, that's how you knew she had no kind of involvement in what had happened to you. Once she was free, she decided she wouldn't be one to hide and be under radar; it was her moment to find out who she truly was.

“Can I ask you something a little personal?”

Sveta nodded. “Of course.”

“I wouldn't be asking this if it weren't this important, but… what happened between you and Fyodor?”

“That asshole. If I see him ever again, I will rip his head off,” she swore. “But, to make it short, I wasn't taken from my family just like that… Him and my father sold me to Dreykov.”

You covered your mouth with your hand. “I can't believe it.”

“It's true,” Svetlana confirmed. “He always knew what I was going through and never, not even once, tried to find me. Not to mention that they lied to my mother and told her I was kidnapped by my father's enemies. She fell ill soon after thinking they wouldn't be able to find me.”

“Sveta, I am so sorry to hear that,” You shook your head, surprised by the information and outraged for ever engaging with Fyodor. “I needed to talk to you about him. He's in New York, or maybe he already left.”

“He's here?!”

“Yeah. And… he did something to me, something unforgivable,” you added. “He was insisting on going out with me and we saw each other last night. He drugged me, and when I woke up, I was beaten and hurt by a man who was seeking revenge for Tarakanov's death.”

She just stared at you. “We will find them.”

“I ubit’ ikh.” you completed.

Matt didn't need to know Russian to understand you and Svetlana meant you wanted to kill Fyodor and Crosby for what they did.

What will happen when or if you find out they are already dead?

Will you ever realize Matt was the one who killed them?

What would you say to that?

taglist: @wh1sp

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil #daredevil x fem!reader #daredevil imagine #daredevil fanfic #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x you #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock x fem!reader

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mytheoristavenue · 9 months ago

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MHA Eijiro Kirishima - I Could Kiss You

Summary: When you finally get offered a new work study under your first pick, Fat Gum, you know exactly who is responsible.

Warnings: Pure fluff, mentions of a toxic work relationship, mentions of misogyny, short/rushed, possibly OOC Shishido

You sighed, gripping the letter tightly in between your fingers. A part of you was relieved to read the words 'Employment Contract Termination Notice' at the head of the page, but something about the implications brewed something awful in your gut. The few months you'd spent under Shishido had been hellish and were were happy it was over but this also meant that, not only were you out of a job, you were out of a way to earn the work study credits you needed to pass the semester.

"Ah, nice," A familiar, chipper voice called from behind you. "About time!" Kirishima cheered, a hand on your shoulder as he read the letter over your shoulder.

"I guess so," you shugged his hand away dismissively.

"What do you mean?" He asked, growing more concerned at your lack of joy. "That guy's an ass, aren't you happy Nezu was able to terminate your contract?"

"I am, really," you answered with a sigh, plopping down on the common room couch. "Maybe it wasn't that bad..."

"Not that bad?" He snorted, sitting down with you, knees far apart as he leaned forward. "He treated you like a secretary. He took Ojiro and Sato out on patrols and made you stay at the office, that's not fair at all."

Kirishima wasn't wrong. It was an open secret at Shishido Agency that you were a diversity hire. The hero tended to avoid hiring interns who didn't fit a specific archetype, and he rarely ever hired women. But his contract with the school came under scrutiny when it was realized that he hadn't hired a single female student since the year after his agency opened. You were the only one who had applied to work for him, thus your employment began.

Your days after school were spent checking his emails, getting him coffee, answering his fanmail, and the like. Your classmates who worked under him would always flash you apologetic smiles as they headed out for patrol with him. "I'm sure you'll go with us next time, (Y/N)..." Ojiro would offer sheepishly on his way out the door. "Yeah, plus you're lucky, now you can get paid to just chill!" Sato would add, much to your chagrin.

"Well, in any case," Kirishima grinned, hoping to lift your spirits a bit. "Now you can start looking for a new hero to intern under!"

"Shishido was the only one who accepted me," you groaned, throwing your head back against the backboard of the couch. "I applied to like everyone I could think of."

"And nobody sent you any offers?" He asked, grimacing at your plite.

"Nope," you answered, exhausted. "Some of them never even replied." You admitted, repositioning on the couch, throwing your legs over his as you settled in. "God, 'Shima, your so lucky to get to work with Fat Gum. He was my first choice." You casually mention, cracking open a textbook to start on some homework.

"Oh yeah?" He askes with a smirk, interest piqued.

"Yeah," you smile softly. "He's always been my favorite pro, ever since I was a kid."

"Did you apply to him?" He suddenly asked, resting his hands on your shins.

"Obviously," you answered snarkily. "He was the first one I applied to."

"And?" He leaned in curiously, as if the answer wasn't glaringly obvious.

"He didn't ever respond." you sighed, turning the page of your book, a sadness gleaming in your eyes.

"Maybe you should reapply." He suggested, oddly excited as the conversation continued. "You never know! Maybe he'd take you this time around!"

"I doubt it," you rolled your eyes as you peered up at him. "I'll have to reapply to everyone though, so I might as well."

"Listen, I gotta go get ready for work." He suddenly jumped up, throwing your legs off him, earning a glare from you. "S-Sorry'bout that, but hey, I'll see you later, okay?"

-----

Once again, you stood there, tightly gripping a letter, the paper crinkling under your trembling fingers. In disbelief, you held it tightly to your chest, repeating it's contents over and over in your head. Finally gathering your bearings, you darted for the door, drifting into the hallway towards the common space.

"Kirishima!" You squealed, prompting the redhead to poke his head out of the kitchen in a panic, puffed cheeks full of half-chewed banana.

"(Y/N)! What's up?" he worried, setting the rest of his snack on the counter, looking you over for possible injury. "You good? You're shaking."

"I got in!" you shrieked, joyous tears pricking your eyes.

His face scrunched in confusion as he tilted his head before suddenly realizing. "Oh my God!" He hollered, sweeping you up into a laugher-filled hug, spinning you as your feet left the ground. "Fat Gum offered you a position?! I told you he would, hell yeah!"

You snickered as he raved with you, setting you back down on the floor, arms still wrapped securely around you. "Oh stop, I know you talked to him."

"W-What?" He paled, pulling away slightly. "N-No, of course not!" He laughed nervously. "I-I mean, you applied to Fat Gum? I didn't even know! I-"

"Eijrio," you stopped him dead in his tracks with a soft smile and the uttering of his given name. "You're a terrible liar..."

"I-I know..." he finally relented with a sheepish smile. "Are you mad at me?"

You couldn't stifle your laugh. "Mad at you? 'Shima, I'm overjoyed." You reassured beaming. "I'm literally so happy I could kiss you!"

You regretted the words as soon as they left your lips, frozen in his grasp, watching rouge crawl up his throat and across his cheeks. His dumbstruck expression made your heart sink and you could feel the heat radiating off your face.

"Y-You mean that?" He finally asked, face never changing. You nodded hesitantly before shaking it furiously.

"I-It's just an expression, I-I didn't-" You were silenced by his calloused hand reaching up to cup your cheek and the pad of his thumb brushing across your lip.

"If you're too nervous to do it, I can kiss you..." he suggested lowly, already leaning in, crimson eyes half-lidded and flickering from yours to your pouty lips. You nodded wordlessly, also closing the distance.

"Y-You can kiss me, if you want." you whispered against his lips, simply earning a nod from him as your lips met at last, briefly and sweetly.

After a moment, Kirishima pulled away, forehead pressed to yours and he murmured to you softly, still cradling your face. "If this is my reward, just tell me what else I can do to make you happy..." he said with a toothy grin.

"It's not a reward," you confessed with an equally saccharine tone. "I would have taken any excuse to kiss you..."

"Is that right?" he laughed, pulling you flush against him, head dipping down to catch your lips again, this time for much longer. "Guess I'll have to keep giving you excuses then, huh?" he teased in between kisses.

Suddenly, a grumpy voice boomed from behind the pair of you, causing you to both jump, holding each other tightly, as if caught with your hands in the cookie jar. "Can you two take this shit elsewhere? You're literally right in front of the fucking fridge."

#mha #mha x reader #mha kirishima #kirishima x reader #kirishima fluff #kirishima eijirou #kirishima ejirou #bnha eijiro kirishima #eijiro kirishima

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anime-kia · 2 months ago

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Bottle Girl

Hi! I apologize for the hiatus (it feels like it's been really long). There has been a lot that has happened both in my life and things outside of it. I kind of felt inspired to write this after listening to hip hop clubbing tracks. Honestly, it's gonna be short and "typical", but hopefully still enjoyable. We all need to feel good, especially during these times.

(So I ended up taking a break from writing this, and my life and the mood I'm feeling is kind of different so, instead of going with a generic approach, Erik is a whole cheater instead of a regular club goer... tehe.)

Relationship: Ex-Boyfriend Erik x Bottle Girl Reader

No warnings.

You didn't imagine that this job would be so demanding, but still so rewarding at the same time. Hours on your feet in heels, holding grossly expensive bottles of alcohol in a skimpy outfit was quite the experience. It gave you opportunities to meet all kinds of celebrities, from rappers to actors or just the crowd who could afford two yachts and a private jet. Either way, those were your best tippers. Your favourite ones, in fact.

The crowd that hassled you the most were drunk men just looking to have a good time. They were extremely shameless and highly insensitive. Those were the ones that couldn't hold their liquor and became very aggressive and touchy…

Being a student in the day, you had to find a way to pay for your loans. Your long-time friend, Anthony, was the one who recommended it. He was always into the nightlife and deemed you a perfect fit. Stripping was also on the table, but you wouldn’t be able to face your parents if you did. Also, you knew some of your male family members were too familiar with the clubs around town.

"If I were to ever see my brother, uncles or cousins while I'm dancing on stage, I think I would die." You told Anthony, and that's when he suggested bottle service.

Tonight, your boss told you and the other ladies that there was a big crowd coming tonight. Around fifty guests who rented out one section with very popular names and titles.

You were parked in one of the employee spaces, which was at the side of the building, so you could still see anyone who was pulling into the lot. As you applied your brown lip liner and glossy nude lip combo, around twelve fancy cars rolled into the parking lot. They all were brightly coloured, had tinted windows and loud music blasting through upgraded speakers.

Who would be showing up today? You wondered as the boss didn't tell you anything.

You were used to seeing fancy cars due to this club being one of the more popular and upscale ones in the city, but never an entourage like that.

People stood outside starring as the vehicles all chose a spot to park, waiting for the guests to exit.

You found youself caught in the same gaze until three taps on your window caused you to turn around and roll down the glass. It was your favourite coworker, Nicole. She sort of reminded you of Ari, in fact they could pass for sisters. She typically had her frontal wigs done in a half-up-half-down style, but today it was long, bone-straight and burgundy with a deep side part.

You could tell she was cold based on the goosebumps peppering her skin. The uniform, tank top with the club logo decalled in rhinestones with short shorts and fishnet stockings did absolutely nothing for warmth. The evening brought in a cold chill despite it being the middle of summer.

She leaned over, pushing some strands behind her ear, “Hey, sis. Frédo is looking for you. He got you, Willow and me on for that big group.”

"Just three of us?” You raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah the club is supposed to be packed tonight and you already know we're his best girls.”

"You right." You put your makeup into your purse and removed the keys from the ignition. "I'll meet you inside."

It wasn't even past midnight and the club was already so lively. Still, you had no idea who these guests were, but it seemed damn near half the city knew. The line outside to get in wrapped around the entire building.

"There's my girl!" Frédo, your boss, came into the back room to greet you. "Alright so you know the drill, I trust you not to mess up.”

"I never mess up." You slightly sassed.

"Ma'am, you broke a whole bottle of Don Julio." Willow added, as she always did with her smart ass mouth.

Sometimes you wished that you could stick a push pin in her bloated lips. You remember when she came to work bragging about getting her lips done by some celebrity doctor downtown LA, but something told you she got them done from an unlicensed friend-of-a-friend.

"First of all, you bumped into me." You retorted with a glare.

"Ladies, ladies, now is not the time." Frédo diffused the situation before you two could get into it as usual. "I need you to go out there and do your absolute best. And please, be extremely- and I mean extremely careful with these bottles. You do not want to know how much one costs.”

"How much?" Willow challenged.

Even though Willow was annoying and always liked to test people, you were actually quite curious to know as well.

"Enough to pay for your house, now go!"

It made you gag sometimes, thinking about how much people would spend on a bottle of alcohol. Sure they can afford it, but a nice $15 wine at the local liquor store would not only give them the same buzz, but also save a whole lot of cash in the long run.

Whatever though.

Nicole met you both at the bar, collecting the bottles that your fancy guests would be drinking tonight.

"You letting ‘em do body shots on you tonight?" Nicole cheekily asked you.

"I know I am. You see this bottle of Brandy?!" Willow butted in, holding up the grey bottle. "This shit could really buy me a whole new house."

You both rolled your eyes at her.

"Hell nah, ion know where they mouths or hands have been. And honestly, I would rather not be thrown up on too, cuz it seems like these folks came to get super lit.”

"Yo' boring ass."

"Shut the hell up, Willow.”

"Aight y'all, what we need is to make money, not fight. So get your bottles and let's fuckin' go!"

The both of you grabbed your bottles and headed towards the main area. The music was booming, it was some trap song playing in the background. Bodies crowded the entire room, it was dim, but bright stage lights guided a path to your section. The other girls had already been working on serving other customers, secretly side eyeing you, Nicole and Willow because of the money they could've made tonight.

Initially you were looking down slightly, avoiding the extremely bright lights and the chance of tripping over your own or someone else's feet. But as soon as you looked up, the shininess from the diamonds and gold jewelry resting on the special guests almost blinded you. The men were covered in thick chains, rings, watches, and grills. The women had on diamond earrings, bracelets, chains, necklaces, anklets, and body chains. The whole sha-bang really.

It might as well have been a jewelry store. On a normal day, you wouldn't even see a quarter of the real gems these people had on.

They were dripped out from head to toe in designer clothes too. This entire section could probably build a city with the prices of everything they had on their bodies from head to toe. One lady had on a platinum blonde straight wig, and you knew she didn't pay any less than $1000 for it. It was almost intimidating, all this money in one place.

As you got closer to your section, the esteemed guests started to cheer. There were tons of male voices with a few females here and there.

Taking a closer look you could start to make out some of the faces of each individual. Some were rappers, models, social media influencers, actors, and singers. The crowd was full of the different shades of melanin, and for that you were very happy to see it.

Black excellence was truly great.

Willow and Nicole made sure to entertain their guests with their colourful personalities and willingness to do almost anything that would have their bills paid for a couple months. Hell, you couldn’t blame them. College wasn’t cheap and you had one more year to go.

While serving the expensive bottles and carrying on as if you cared for the holler and excitement this crowd provided, you could just feel those eyes on you. Despite recognizing a few current and up-and-coming celebrities, male and females alike, he stood out the most.

No, he wasn’t a rapper nor any celebrity for that matter (…well maybe a little infamous but average nonetheless), only a man who was adored and just so happened to have royal blood flowing through his veins.

Erik Stevens.

He sat so comfortably in the centre of the VIP section, looking deliberately casual but, so stylish all at the same time. That smug smirk of his appearing once your eyes locked.

It took the strongest urge in you to not roll your eyes as you had the upstanding duty to serve him as he beckoned you over with two fingers. You maintained your professional composure as you guided yourself closer to his table.

“Wassup? Long time no see.” He greets you smoothly, voice cutting through the music. Suddenly, more eyes are turned to you and Erik, particularly the women who sat within an earshot and had their knees turned towards him.

Anyone who was paying attention noticed how he was looking at you - a mix of hunger, possession and unfinished business.

You take a deep breath before placing his bottle down. Hennessey of course, what else would you expect from him? It was always stored away in his cabinet.

Honestly, you should’ve taken Willow’s offer earlier and told her to handle Erik instead. You could just feel the tension growing in the air. The judgement was palpable from the other curious guests. However, you had to remain professional. Frédo ingrained those words into your head from the very moment you were hired. No wonder…

“Nice to see you again, Erik.” You replied cooly, disregarding the glares that were shot your way.

“Is it?” He began, and already you knew it was going to go downhill just from those two words alone. “Seems like you ain’t wanna come over here for real.” He challenged, leaning back and crosing his arms with a grin. You could tell that he knew you were lying, and even more so that you had to keep a poised demeanour. After all, he was one of the highest paying customers.

You force a smile, “Well, I’m just making sure that everyone is happy and getting all the bottles they ordered.”

“Oh, aight.” He unconvincingly responded.

One of his drunken rich friends staggered over and plopped down next to him, but not without grazing your hip with a gentle hand to get by. Ugh. He threw an arm around the back of the sofa, oblivious to the current tension. “Bruh, I just invited two baaaad bitches to the section, when I say bad I mean bad.”

Erik was half paying attention to his friend, but his dark eyes were still trained on you.

You stifled a laughter, how many more women could they need? There was more than a handful over here and as far as you were concerned, these were the “bad bitches”!

The friend finally glanced at you, “Bring back two bottles of Patron.” He demanded.

Your eyes narrowed just for a moment, expressing irritation, but everyone missed it except for Erik. You knew how to smile while conveying a totally different message with your eyes. It was something he picked up on after he would frustrate you and ask what was wrong, in which you always replied, “Nothing, I’m fine.”

“You heard me?” The drunk asked after you were standing there too long for his liking, apparently… Erik’s grin deepened almost as if he found amusement in your discomfort.

You averted your attention to the pest, “They’re on the way sir. Just making sure I get everyone elses’ orders before I head back.”

“Aight then, Miss uhh…” he peered at your bedazzled name tag before saying your name, sarcasm lacing his tone. The others in the section started to chuckle and that was your cue to hurry back to the bar, take a quick three second breather and then head back into the boistrous section.

You had no issue calling security to kick customers out, hell you’d even do it yourself if you were paid to, but you recognized that bastard. He was a producer, songwriter and had an upcoming line of sneakers that everyone was anticipating. You knew Frédo would’ve been pissed if you got rid of a high profile guests. In fact, he was probably the one who booked out the section.

Typically interacting with the customers was fun and lighthearted, but sometimes you got assholes like that one. Some nights you could get away with retaliating, but this definitely wasn’t one of those.

“I’ll make sure you’re taken care of, be right back.” You quickly walked away, pinching Willow to get her to follow you back to the bar. Nicole was busy entertaining the other table otherwise you would’ve called her. “Come on girl, we’re refilling the hors d’ouevers and we got two more bottles.”

She was shoving a couple bills into her bra as she stalked behind you, “Bitch, I know you ain’t just take me away to help you get two bottles.”

“And food, you goof.”

“Where the fuck is Nicole? Ginny Vincent was about to take shots from my tits!” She complained. Ginny Vincent was a lesbian rapper, fem presenting but sometimes masculine, especially in her music videos.

Ignoring her question you got the bottles from the back and shoved them in her hands, “Do me a favour, give these to the table with Killmonger and that ugly bald headed ass producer nigga sitting next to him. Lemme get your tables instead, please.”

She narrowed her eyes at you, “You are not about to take my fun-“

“Girl, I do not want Ginny!” Willow was so incredibly narrow sighted it killed you every time she opened her mouth. “I just don’t want to deal with them right now.”

“Oh you got choices? The amount of girls that would die to be in this section right now and you’re being picky? Crazy.”

“Willow. For the love of everything good, please shut the fuck up for once. I am literally giving you the table with the most money and the biggest tippers and you’re complaining, for what?” You reach forward to take the bottles back from her, “Actually, you’re right. Lemme just have my bills paid for, for the next year. Since you wanna be grateful and shit, fuck it.”

You could see the gears finally turning in her head, “Uh, you know what, bitch, my bad. You are absolutely right. I got it, I got it.” She took the bottles back, and cheerfully walked over to the section again, hollering as if her life depended on it.

You took a deep breath again as your eyes rolled drammatically. In the mean time, you got some water and freshened up in the bathroom. With the bright lights and the endless sea of people, you were hot. Unfortunately you forgot your portable fan at home. Not even ten seconds after stepping out of the bathroom you were summoned again.

“Ah, there you are!” Frédo came from the kitchen, he was definitely yelling at the cooks to hurry up. “Okay, they want one more of those mortgage costing bottles. I only trust you with it, so take it out to that section for me.”

“I was getting them more refills on the hors d’ouevers. Willow and Nicole are-” You tried to stall.

“Not important, now hurry.” He interrupts, shoving the theatric cart towards you. The bottle was in a decorated ice bucket, sparklers coming out from all sides and really, as fun as it was, it was so ridiculous. This one bottle got more attention than some people ever did on their birthday.

Either way, you put on your game face and hyped up the crowd as you made your way back into that jewelry store of a section. This in turn got everyone else excited too, so many phone cameras were flashing, drunk people cheering on top of their lungs, and onlookers desperately wanting a sliver of the action.

But as you engaged with the customers and filled new orders, you could feel Erik’s gaze lingering on you like a hawk. You just knew how badly he wanted your attention, even with the other women chatting his ears off, or at least attempting to. They weren’t there before, maybe these were the two bad bitches his friend was talking about.

“Aye!” He called out, voice travelling over the music. Of course he was talking to you, “C’mere.” He beckoned you over. The two women huffed, realizing that they were not priority and decided to walk away. He didn’t even spare them a glance as he trained his eyes onto you.

You treaded over, this time your face lacked the false pleasantires. “What, Erik?”

“I’m just tryna talk to you.”

“Look, I’m here to do my job. I’m not tryna get into anything with you right now. So just tell me if you need more drinks or-“

“More drinks?” He chuckled slightly and scratched his beard, “Nah, I need more company. Ain’t it your job to entertain me?”

You scoffed, “Well we both know what happened the last time we were entertaining each other so pardon me if I have no interest in opening that door again. I got about fifty people to look after.” Your tone was losing its calm.

He evidently enjoyed this, his smirk grew. “Is that so? I mean, I thought you’d enjoy catching up since you been ghosting me and all.”

“Me!?” Your surprised outburst caught the attention of more partygoers than you wanted. However, what the fuck was he thinking? “You expect me to want to catch up with the man who decided to cheat on me?!”

The music felt quieter now, and the excitement seemed to die down, but maybe it’s because anyone in an earshot was focused on what Erik had to say to you.

“Who else, Miss Bottle Girl?”

“Look, I’m not about to do this with you right now. Are you placing an order or what?”

This had his possy laughing, his friends jabbing at him with remarks suggesting that you have been the topic of conversation at least one time since leaving him.

“So this is the shorty you been telling us about bruh, damnnnn. She ain’t playing witch’yo ass.” One of them chortled.

“Shut up, bruh.” He shot back with a laugh, but the seriousness in his eyes remained as he looked back at you. “You can’t pretend it was all bad.”

“Pretend? Trust me, I’m not pretending. This isn’t a game.”

“Then what is it, hm?” He leaned forward, challenging you. “Just think about it, if you were so pressed, you wouldn’t be standing here now would you?”

The audacity of this man to try and gaslight you in front of all these people, “I’m just doing my job.” You retaliated. “It really has nothing to do with you, and I can’t believe you think I’m working this section for you. Had I known you were here I would’ve swapped out.”

His eyes narrowed, “Stop pretending like you don’t miss me, (y/n).”

“And don’t. So if you don’t place an order in the next three seconds, I’m gonna go tend to my other customers.” You cross your arms, professionalism out the window as you glared at Erik.

This time he stood up and entered your personal space, “Stop acting like that, (y/n). You know how much you want me. C’mon.” He leans in closer to whisper, the smell of henessey and cologne danced around your nose. “None of this shit matters, I want you back.”

“We’re done, Erik. Get that through that thick skull of yours. Trying to gaslight me in front of a bunch of folks is not playing out as well as you think it is. You just look like a complete jackass.”

“I ain’t worried about them, princess. I know you miss what we had.”

Anger rushed through you, pushing you closer to the edge. “Miss what exactly? The back-and-forth? The lying? Me catching you with multiple bitches? Please.”

The laughter from the section was fuelling your irritation as well. This wasn’t a fucking reality TV show for his crowd to find amusement in. You decided to drag him out of the section because having people in your business was not ideal, and you were certain some people were recording everything too.

Your red nail jabbed him in the chest. “You thinking that I miss you is actually insane. What I do miss is what we first had, before I really knew the truth.”

“What truth? That you’re jealous?” His condescending tone triggered a shockwave of fury to flow through your veins.

“Jealous of what?! Seeing my supposed to be man entertain other women while he’s with me. It’s fucking insane that you are still trying to convince yourself that you weren’t the one wo fucked up. Now your ass can’t secure a good woman to save your life and its exactly what you deserve. So when I say this, I mean it in the most disrespectful way. Fuck. You. Erik. Stevens. Fuck! You!”

“Already did.” He smriks smugly.

Sick of his provocation, arrogance and narrative twisting to make you feel like you were the problem, you grabbed a fruity red cocktail out of a passerbyers hand to which she complained, splashing the drink all over his crisp white t-shirt.

His face went from shock to anger quickly. There were so many ‘ooos’ and people making noise after witnessing what just went down.

“What the fuck!?” He pulled his shirt away from his torso.

“Maybe you will finally get the message now. We are done! Fucking asshole!” You stormed off as he shouted at you come back. Erik was left there, stunned. He underestimated you one too many times.

This wasn’t nearly as bad as what he did to you, but you felt a sense of victory. It was exhilirating almost. Surely someone recorded it and you were sure that it was going to be all over social media the next morning.

Karma is a bitch, Erik Stevens. You thought to yourself as you made your way to your car.

Frédo would definitely be infuriated with you, in fact you weren’t even sure if you would still have a job the next day. You wouldn’t even be surprised if you got a million phone calls and long text messages from your boss, coworkers and “unknown numbers”. Either way, you were fed up, done with Erik and ready to take off your damn heels.

(Start/Finish October 23 2020 - Dec 5, 2024)

It’s funny that I finally found inspiration after getting over whatever I was going through back in 2020. Because I wanted this story to be more lighthearted and typical, but then it took on a new tragectory. Fours years to complete because writers block is a bitch!

This was sitting in my drafts for about 2 months, but I randomly decided to read it and actually really enjoyed how it came out. So, I edited it and boom here it is! (February 24, 2025)

Thanks for reading!

#killmonger x reader #black reader #killmonger fic

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makeitmingi · 1 year ago

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The Cat and Dog Game [Chapter 35]

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Comedy

Pairing: Yunho x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Chef!Reader, RestaurantOwner!Yunho, MaitreD!Hongjoong, Waiter!Yeosang, Waiter!San, Waiter!Mingi, SousChef!Seonghwa, SousChef!Wooyoung, PrepChef!Jongho

Summary: Yunho's dream was to open and run his own restaurant. But he doesn't know anything when it comes to cooking. Until you came along and accepted the job, bringing with you a small crew. How will the black cat tame the energetic golden retriever?

Word count: 3.2K

Chapter warning(s): Alcohol and alcohol consumption.

"Hey, I'm headed off. I'll see you back at mine?" You told Yunho.

"Hang on." He told Yeosang and came over to follow you into the kitchen. Even if he was seeing you in an hour or two, Yunho always insisted on walking you out.

"Mmm, rest well. I'll see you later." He bear hugged you and kissed your cheek. Lip kisses was still a little rare with the two of you, especially in a public space. But Yunho was grateful to receive them anyway. When it was just the two of you, he would always steal kisses and kiss you whenever he could.

"Let me know when you're on the way. I'll leave the door unlocked in case I'm in the shower or something." You said.

"Alright." He patted your head, waving to Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Jongho, who were waiting by their cars. The 3 waved back to the tall male as you jogged to Seonghwa.

"Let's go." You jumped in.

"Luckily I did all the prep last night and some cooking just now. Tomorrow's off day will be spent sleeping." You giggled.

"Yeah, we'll probably all end up crashing at yours anyway after tonight." He chuckled in agreement as he drove back to your house. When he parked, you saw Wooyoung and Jongho.

"Come on." Jongho held your hand and all 4 of you headed in.

Tonight, all of you were surprising Yunho with a party to celebrate the restaurant being open for 6 months. His friends were in on it too, they'll try to get to your house before Yunho since he is driving alone, thinking it was just another night of sleeping at your place.

"Let's get started." You pulled your apron on to continue cooking the dishes that Yunho liked. It was an effort on everyone's part to keep the restaurant going but you wanted to make it special for Yunho.

"Check the pork shoulder for me?" You requested. Wooyoung was at the oven in an instant.

"Texture is looking good. I'll remove the foil to get the crackling going." He said and you nodded your head.

"It still has about an hour to go. It's been going for 7 hours." You informed, checking the timer and the piece of paper where you wrote down the dishes.

"Here's all the prep stuff." Jongho brought the deli containers of prepped ingredients to Seonghwa.

"Luckily we worked on all this last night. Now it's just putting it together." Jongho noted.

"Yes but like I was telling Hwa, we'll spend the day getting the sleep we deserve tomorrow." You laughed. Wooyoung and Jongho nodded in agreement. Like always, no matter where your team was, you all worked so well together.

"Abura soba is done, pork shoulder is in the oven, steaks will be done last minute. Can I start the arrancini or does anyone need any hands?" You called out.

"Don't forget to frost the cake!" Wooyoung reminded.

"You do that, I'll get started on the arrancini. Then you can take over." Jongho patted your shoulder.

"Thanks." You went to the larger fridge in your pantry and took the cake out. Grabbing an offset spatula, you frosted the cake over the crumb coat you had applied on earlier.

"Honestly, thank god for your prior planning skills in this. If you only had that main fridge out there, we wouldn't fit all this."

"I know. But honestly, that initial bedroom in the back was so small, it was easier to just turn it into a pantry. I needed that space more than a spare bedroom anyway." You chuckled, piping the frosting in a elegant pattern over the top of the cake. After writing the letters, you put the cake back in the fridge.

"Oh, Hongjoong and the others are on the way. They rushed out of there while Yunho was locking up the place." Seonghwa said. On cue, you sent Yunho a text to stall him.

"What did you ask him?" Wooyoung asked.

"Said to pick up a few blocks of butter since I'm recipe testing." You chuckled. Of course, the ever kind Yunho agreed to do it.

*DING DONG*

"Must be the others." You went to open the door for them. San engulfed you in a hug, as if you didn't just see him a few hours ago. But you still patted his back to reciprocate.

"Welcome, make yourselves at home." You smiled and went back to the kitchen.

"Woah, it's like a restaurant kitchen in here." Hongjoong said, seeing the size of the kitchen.

"Who needs a dining area?" You raised your eyebrows with a laugh. The boys all greeted each other then tried to help where they could. It was amusing seeing Mingi venture through your house, respectfully of course, and seeing your pantry.

"Wow! It's like a convenience store in here but less packaged snacks and sweets." Mingi said, making everyone laugh.

"With the way we cook, we need more space to keep stuff, which also means two fridges. And frankly, we run out of space quite often." Jongho said.

"Yunho just got the butter, he's on the way. 15 minutes." You informed, reading the text.

"We better get started on decorations." Yeosang took out the small balloons and simple streamers that they bought.

"This is the dressing, if you could help dress the salad. Just shake it up first since the oil separated." Wooyoung handed the salad bowl and dressing container to San.

"Where are the cups?" Mingi asked. You pointed to the cupboard and showed him where all the cutlery, plates and bowls were as well.

"Steak is tented and resting." Seonghwa announced.

"Getting the short ribs out." You said. Seonghwa came over held the big serving bowl for you while you took out pieces of the short rib and poured the sauce over. The meat was so soft, falling off the bone as you used your tongs to put it into the bowl. You tore off a small piece to give Seonghwa and yourself.

"It's perfect." He smiled. You laughed and he brought the serving bowl to put with the rest of the food.

"Yah! Stop stealing! Take some salad if you're that hungry." San whined as Hongjoong took a piece of the steak that he was bringing to the food table.

"Nah, no vegetables for me. Waste of calories." Hongjoong scrunched his nose in disgust.

"Hongjoong, that spiced chicken dish I made the other day for family meal? It's mostly vegetables, you ate all that." You pointed out.

"What? Really?! (y/n), I trusted you!" Hongjoong yelled.

"You trust me to take care of you, I do that by feeding you vegetables and making you healthy." You scoffed. Seonghwa slung his arm around you, laughing at hongjoong.

"Like hiding vegetables in a kid's meal." Seonghwa chuckled. You hummed, you were all used to this. Working in multiple restaurants, parents always requested that you somehow hide vegetables in their children's food.

*DING DONG*

"That's Yunho!" You broke away to go to the door while Wooyoung dimmed the lights.

"Hi, love. Sorry, I'm late. I got your butter!" Yunho held the bag up with a proud grin. You chuckled, he really looked so cute. You reached up to pat his head.

"Thank you for making the detour." You smiled softly. His golden retriever tail must be thumping against the ground happily now.

"Don't mention it. It's no big deal." He leaned down to hug you, nuzzling his cheek against yours.

"Why's it so dark?" Yunho tilted his head as he entered. You shrugged, leaning against the wall as you waited for him to remove his shoes. Being dim, he didn't notice his friends' shoes there.

"What's going o-"

"Surprise! Happy 6 months to the restaurant!" The lights turned on and everyone jumped up. Yunho jumepd slightly at the sound, eyes widening as he realised what was going on. He was speechless, turning to you then to his friends then back to you. You just laughed at his dumbfounded, surprised reaction.

"What?! So this is why you all rushed off?" Yunho went to his friends, pointing a finger at them. Even if he had an accusatory tone, he was smiling the whole time.

"Oh, just thank us for the surprise." Mingi rolled his eyes, going over to hug his best friend.

"Thank you, everyone." Yunho said over Mingi's shoulder.

"I honestly didn't even know that it has been 6 months, time flies so quickly." He continued, patting Mingi's back until he let go. Jongho was quick to put a drink in Yunho's hand.

"Hey, eat first." Seonghwa scolded. Yunho's eyes sparkled as he saw all his favourite dishes lined up.

"It's all my favourites!" Yunho took his phone out to tak a picture of all the dishes.

All the boys queued up to get their food, filling at least two plates each with food before sitting in your living room to eaat together. Wooyoung and Jongho went around, pouring everyone a drink, insisting that everyone must have a little.

"Mhmm, the short ribs are so good. The meat is so tender." San hummed happily as he chewed, already digging in. He cast you a smile, to which you smiled back.

"Yah! We haven't had a toast yet." Hongjoong said. San shrugged, not interested in the alcohol at all.

"Speech, speech!" You and Yeosang giggled as you chanted, trying to put Yunho on the spot. He shot you a glare of betrayal.

"Uhh, you know I'm bad at speeches... Thank you for this surprise and for the past 6 months. We have a good thing going thanks to all of your efforts, so let's continue to do that?" He tilted his head.

"Wow, he's really bad..." Mingi shook his head.

"I'd like to see you try." Yunho hissed. But everyone raised their cups anyway to toast to Yunho, themselves and the restaurant.

"Your ears are red." You chuckled, reaching up to gently rub his burning ears, before taking a sip of your drink.

"There you go, teasing me again." He pouted, leaning over to give you a kiss. You knew this was just Yunho trying to tease you back, plus he was happy with the fact that you've helped him keep the restaurant going for 6 months. He didn't even consider the weight of his actions until Hongjoong and San teased him.

"Get a room!" Jongho yelled. Yunho's face turned bright red, groaning as he buried his face in your chest, his arms holding your waist. You laughed at his embarrassment.

"Hey, you were the one who kissed me." You said as you stroked the back of his head.

"Stop~" He whined.

"Okay, okay. Start eating." You waved everyone off. Ultimately, you had a soft spot for Yunho and would easily give in to help him. You caught Seonghwa laughing at how soft you were for Yunho.

"Shut up, Hwa." You glared. You pulled Yunho's face away from yours and he stared up at you.

"Eat a lot. I made your favourites." You smiled. He nodded and began to eat but still kept one arm around your waist.

"So good." He smiled at you. You watched as Wooyoung and San deliberately put a heaping spoon of salad onto Hongjoong's plate, right on top of the meat that he was eating. Hongjoong yelled at the two, threatening to hit them.

"You have to eat too." You looked down to see Yunho holding his chopsticks out to you. You gave in and ate the piece of meat he had in his chopsticks then ate your own food.

"More drinks!" Jongho went around topping everyone up.

"Hope you're ready for us to crash here, (y/n)." Yeosang laughed. You nodded with a thumbs up.

"I am prepared for that. I'll just leave you guys out here. There's one guest room down the hall, help yourselves to it... If you can make it there." You giggled.

"Yeah, I'm crashing in (y/n)'s room." Wooyoung said.

"No, I am." Seonghwa hit the back of his head. You remembered the last time that happened, you were chased out of your own bed.

"But... I..." Yunho said softly before pursing his lips, about to raise his hand to interject. He wanted to say that he was going to be the one sharing a bed with you tonight but he knew Wooyoung and Seonghwa, especially, claimed that spot in your bed way before he did. He put his hand down with a pout.

"Yah, you two can take the bed in the guest room. Yunho's with me now. There's no space." You spoke up, making Yunho's head whip around to look at you in disbelief.

"Wow... Ultimate betrayal." Seonghwa shook his head. Wooyoung nodded along with Seonghwa.

"Because the last time you guys tried to squeeze on my bed, I had to go to the guest room to bunk with Jongho." You rolled your eyes.

"It's because you don't want to cuddle." Wooyoung pointed out.

"With the two of you, it's more smothering than cuddling." You scoffed as you drank your drink. The other boys just laughed at the way the 3 of you bantered.

"Okay! We're doing shots now!" Hongjoong went around passing out shot cups and topping them up.

"This is not going to end well..." San shook his head but took the shot anyway. Yunho gulped his shot and poured himself another. Jongho grinned mischeviously, refilling Mingi's shot glass while the taller was distracted by his food.

"You didn't drink, Mingi hyung." Jongho said innocently.

"What? You're lying, you just refilled it, didn't you? I swear I drank when Hongjoong hyung gave out the shots." Mingi argued, scratching his head.

"Nah, you're just tipsy." Wooyoung added to Jongho's lie, trying to convince Mingi otherwise.

"Oh... Okay, fine." Mingi took the shot, shaking the empty glass above his head to prove that he had finished everything.

"Don't get too drunk before we have a chance to cut the cake." Seonghwa announced loudly beside you. But you were not fast enough to cover his mouth

"Cake?" Yunho blinked.

"Hwa! You're drunk and being a loud mouth." You hissed but Seonghwa just smiled dreamily at you, cupping your cheeks and leaning forward to give you a big, loud kiss on your forehead. You crinkled your nose uncomfortably and slapped his hands away while Yunho laughed in amusement.

"Yes, there's a celebratory cake too. I baked it early this morning and frosted it just now. It was supposed to be a surprise but I guess not anymore." You told Yunho.

"It's okay, I'm always up for cake. Thank you." Yunho rubbed your knuckles with his thumbs.

"What flavour is it?" Yunho asked.

"It's-"

"Shh, Hwa. Shh." You put a finger to your lips. Seonghwa grinned and leaned his head on your shoulder, taking another sip of his drink. You rolled your eyes, reaching up to pat his head.

But Seonghwa was right, before the boys and yourself got too drunk, you took out the cake and placed it right in the middle of the coffee table.

"Can I know what flavour it is now?" Yunho asked.

"It's a tiramisu cake with salted caramel frosting. Like a caramel macchiato, your favourite drink." You explained. Yunho softened, the alcohol along with the realisation of everything you and the others have done for him making him emotional.

"Are you crying?!" Mingi pointed out in disbelief. Yunho let out a choked sob as he hugged you again, burying his face against your chest as he cried.

"I'm just... grateful... for all of you..." He cried.

"Yun, we're glad to have such a great boss who takes care of us." You said, comforting him.

"Don't cry!" San, obviously already drunk, came over to hug Yunho. Hongjoong, who was also tearing up, joined the hug. It was odd seeing he usually didn't like skinship from the boys.

"You big puppy! You're making all of us emotional." Wooyoung went over with open arms to hug them all.

"They stole my boyfriend so... come here, Hwa." You hugged your best friend, who blinked in confusion but still hugged you tightly.

"I love you~" He giggled.

"I love you too, Hwa hwa." You laughed, patting his back. Once all the hugs were broken, Jongho, who was the only one sturdy enough to cut the cake, sliced it up and gave it out to everyone. Yunho held his plate and insisted on feeding you. After you took the bite, he giggled drunkenly and pressed his forehead against yours.

"I love you. I love this cake!" He laughed. You couldn't help but laugh at how cute tipsy Yunho was. You were definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol too. It was the first time Yunho said he loves you.

"Don't cry anymore and eat cake, hmm?" You giggled, reaching out to wipe the stray tears on his cheeks. He nodded obediently and ate the cake with a smile.

"Thank you for doing this..." He said, pulling you close to kiss your temple.

"Nothing to thank me for. I'm glad you enjoyed the surprise." You shook your head with a soft smile. Yunho hugged you again.

"This cake is soooooo good! Best! Cake! Ever!" San yelled, jumping to his feet and pointing to the cake.

"Shh, San. No yelling." Yeosang scolded, making San sit back down. Although Jongho still spoke coherantly, you knew from the glazed look in his eyes that he was nearly gone too.

"Alright, I think it's time to go to bed. We'll all be dealing with hangovers tomorrow." You said.

"Booooo!" The boys jeered at you. Jongho helped you move Yunho to your room first. You stumbled as you picked up the used plates and cutlery, just to leave them in the kitchen. Wooyoung's eyes were half lidded as he laid on your rug.

"That's that..." You draped a blanket over him and moved to help move the others.

"Wait, where's Mingi?" You looked around, realising the other tall giant wasn't there. Yeosang went to the guest room to see the tall boy fast asleep on the bed.

"He's in... the guest room... asleep." Yeosang spoke slowly, leaning against the wall as he yawned.

"(y/n), go to bed. We'll handle it." Jongho said, moving Seonghwa to the couch and putting one of the blankets over him while Yeosang got Hongjoong.

"Okay, goodnight. See you all tomorrow." You smiled. They waved back before you enter your room. Yunho was hugging Yuyu and Yunnie, sleeping with a small frown on his face.

"Yun..." You slipped under the covers.

"(y/n)...?" He lifted his head groggily. He moved Yunnie and Yuyu aside, reaching over to hug you and tucked his head into the crook of your neck. You sighed blissfully, fingers threading through the ends of his hair behind his head. He pressed kisses to your neck, making you shiver slightly.

"Sleep, Yun." You whispered, yawning yourself. He gave a small nod and a hum, falling asleep right away.

"Shh! Wooyoung hyung, San hyung, stop singing!" You chuckled as you heard Jongho scold the drunk boy. Looking down at Yunho, you caressed his cheek with a loving smile.

"I love you too." You whispered, tilting Yunho's head up to give him a peck despite him being asleep.

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ninii-winchester · 8 months ago

Text

Crossed Allegiances (Part 2)

Pairing : Dean Winchester X reader

Word count : 6k

Warnings : angst, mentions of sex, BMOL (they should be tagged as a warning), fluff, minor character death, language, canon level violence. And of course not proofread.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

A week passed and Dean visited her everyday. Y/n was now eagerly looking forward to spend time with him everyday. It was all so perfect. It could've been her happily ever after if it weren't for the job. She loved being in his arms, she loved his kisses, she loved being his. He made her feel like she was the only girl in the world. She was too immersed in the bubble she had created that she forgot about the job. But all good things come to an end, and her bubble burst with a phone call.

"Winchester is still refusing to work with us." She heard Ketch's voice.

"I told you to keep your huge ass nose out of my business. It's only been a week. He's Dean Winchester, he doesn't trust easy." She replied rolling her eyes. It was a lie. Dean trusted her, but didn't know and she intends to keep it that way for as long as she can.

"Well, when you're done chumming it up with your boyfriend. Let me know." He hung up on her. Fucking asshole.

Her phone rang again and she rolled her eyes but then a huge smile broke onto her face when she saw it was Dean.

"Hey, sweetheart, you busy?" He asked, it sounded like he was driving the Impala.

"No. What do you have in mind?"

"Well i was thinking we could go on a drive, get dinner and I'll take you to the bunker to meet Sammy." He was smiling, she could hear it in his voice. "Only if you want to." He quickly added.

"You planned it all huh?" She teased him. Her heart was soaring that he was making plans, that wanted to spend time with her. And he was taking her to meet his brother. Over the week she found out that his brother is the most important person in his life. And he was taking her to meet him. She couldn't be happier. "I say let's go."

"I'll see you soon then." Dean pulled up at her apartment after ten minutes. He knocked on the door and she opened it happily inviting him inside. He leaned down to kiss her softly, following her inside her bedroom.

"I'll be ready in a minute." She didn't need to do much, she was already showered and dressed, all she had to do was apply some makeup and brush her hair.

"Take your time, sweetheart." He said plopping down on her bed, watching her with heart eyes. He was acting like a love sick puppy and he knew it. His gaze wandered all over her body and he bit his lip groaning. This woman is making me do things out of my character.

"I'm ready, let's go." Y/n turned around. She wore a simple, well-fitted dress that complemented her figure, paired with minimal makeup—a touch of concealer, a hint of nude lipstick , and a light coat of mascara. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail and the things he wanted to do to her after seeing her like this were insane.

"Let's go, gorgeous."

The road stretched ahead, winding through open fields and scattered trees. The car moved smoothly, its steady hum blending with the music playing in the background. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow across the sky.

A cool breeze flowed through the cracked windows. They talked alot, but there were also long, comfortable silences where the only sounds were the purring of Impala's engine.

After a nice dinner, Dean drove to the outskirts and she looked out of the window curiously.

"Are you taking me somewhere to kill me?" She giggled and he rolled his eyes.

"I have no intention of getting my ass kicked tonight." He replied with a chuckle, knowing shes capable of beating the fuck out of him. "Bunker's pretty isolated." Dean replied stopping the car. He opened the passenger door for her and helped her out of the car. Grasping her hand in his, he opened the bunker door, the hinges creaking loudly. He guided her down the stairs into the war room, and she looked around the place in awe.

A tall man was sitting on one of the chairs in what seemed to be a large study. Upon noticing their presence he stood up from his seat and went over to them. Y/n looked up at the man, and man was he huge. Y/n had to crane her neck a bit to look at his face.

"So you do exist." Sam said with smile, his brother rolling his eyes. "It's so nice to finally put a face to the name." He said holding out his hand for her to shake.

"Hey. Nice you to finally meet you too, Sammy." Sam titled his head a bit at her calling him 'Sammy' and she noticed. "Is that not your name?" She asked quietly. "Dean always talked about his brother Sammy." Sam gave Dean a bitch a face before turning to her with a smile.

"It's Sam." He corrected her.

"Same thing, Sammy." Dean commented with a grin. "Welcome to our humble abode, sweetheart." He added.

"This place his huge." She looked around with wide eyes. Dean placed his hand on the small of her back and leading her to the library. The three of them sat down on the chairs.

"So Dean told me you're not a hunter." Sam started and she nodded her head. "But you fight better than one?" Y/n blushed feeling a bit embarrassed.

"He exaggerated."

"You're being modest." Dean kissed her temple.

"How do you know about all this stuff, the supernatural and the monsters.?" Sam questioned out of genuine curiosity but Y/n squirmed a bit and Dean shot his brother a glare. "You don't have to-"

"Family business, Sam." She gave him forced smile. "My parents were hunters. I just didn't want this life for me." It wasn't a lie per say, but it wasn't the whole truth either. She never knew her parents. She was raised by the Men of Letters to be who she is. But she didn't want that.

"You don't have to talk about it." Dean rubbed her arm lightly. She nodded and they continued to talk. It was getting late and Y/n asked Dean to get her back home. "You could stay the night, sweetheart."

"I don't have my clothes."

"You can sleep in my shirt, in my bed." He whispered in her ear, seductively. His arms encircling her waist. Sam quickly excused himself, not wanting to stay in case things went any further. He wouldn't put it past his brother to be mindful of his surroundings in situations like this.

"Fine." Dean picked her up and carried her to his room. "Damn this place is like a maze." She commented as they reached Dean's room.

"Don't worry, I'll show you around the bunker tomorrow, so you don't get lost." He gave her a shirt and she quickly changed into it. Dean stripped down to his boxers and joined her in bed. "Good night darling."

The next morning Sam found a case, he told them over coffee. Sam was hoping Y/n would want to tag along and he could finally see what Dean was on about but she didn't show any interest. She just asked Dean to drop her back home and told him to be safe out there. To save time, the boys geared up and dropped her at her apartment and went on their way instead of Dean going alone and coming back to the Bunker. Dean called her every given opportunity, keeping her updated about the hunt. He told her they'd be back tomorrow. After getting off the phone with Dean, Y/n dialled Ketch.

"Bring your ugly ass to the bunker on Friday. Bring your finest alcohol. Make it seem like you're offering a truce and trying again." She ordered. She had a plan in mind.

"Don't give me orders." He said with his teeth clenched. "I'll see you in five days."

"Asshole." She muttered to herself as he hung up.

Dean came back from the hunt, met up with her and left on another hunt. He called her the other and told her he's going another hunt and she sighed over the phone. She missed him. She wanted to be back in his arms. And she needed him to be back before Friday or she won't hear the end of it from Ketch.

Thursday evening Y/n was lounging in her living room flipping through channels. A knock on the door resounded and she went to open the door. There stood Dean, covered in dirt and a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

"Dean what're you doing here?" She questioned letting him in.

"The hunt was an easy one so we finished early and came back. I also happened to miss my girl so here I am." Dean flashed her a smile, handing her the flowers.

His girl. As those two words filled her with warmth inside, a bucket of ice cold water splashed on her as she remembered the reason she was with him. She was deceiving him. Playing with him. Manipulating him.

She didn't want to remember it at the moment, she needed to forget, she grabbed him by the lapels of his jacked pulling him onto her. Pressing her lips to his, "baby, I'm all dirty." He mumbled against her lips. She responded with a little "shut up" pushing him on the bed.

The two laid under the covers, completely naked, panting a bit from the activities that took place earlier. "Someone missed me." Dean smirked.

"I did." She shifted on his chest. His fingers trailing down her bare back. "Can I come over to the bunker? I can cook for you and Sam."

"Sure you can. You don't have to ask." He caressed her cheek. "Will you make pie?" He grinned up at her and she nodded kissing his nose. He stared at her in adoration, he was falling for her. Fast. He was pretty sure he fell for her the first time too. He didn't want to accept it back then but now he knows. But he won't tell her, he didn't want to scare her off. They've only been together for a few days.

The next morning Dean took Y/n to the bunker. She was anxious the minute she stepped her foot inside. Ketch could show up any time. She needed to keep her expression in check and not let the brothers see the loathing she held for the man who'd be visiting today. If Dean noticed her odd behaviour, he didn't comment on it.

The trio sat in the library where Sam was telling Y/n stories of his time at Stanford. She could tell he missed it all. She knew he didn't want to be a hunter. She had seen that look in the mirror many times before she ran. The loud creaking of the bunker door interrupted Sam mid sentence. Both men grabbed their guns from under the table, ready to shoot if it was an intruder. Dean pushed Y/n behind him, standing in front of her in a protective stance.

The minute they recognised the newcomer they pointed their guns at the man. Ketch raised his hands in surrender.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Dean growled.

"I come in peace." The man replied.

"How did you even get in here?" Sam questioned. Ketch scoffed.

"I have a key" he replied and Sam looked confused. "Your key can open any Men of Letters bunker in the world." He added in a berating tone as if it was common knowledge and they should've known.

"What do you want?" Dean asked not dropping his guard even for a second.

"I came here to call for a truce. I believe we started on the wrong foot. I was hoping we could work together. We're Men of Letters after-all" Ketch said, presenting a bottle of whiskey, placing it on the table in the war room.

Y/n observed the situation, Dean was not convinced in the slightest. His shoulders were tense as he was expecting Ketch to attack any moment. Sam, however, he didn't seem completely trust but he appeared inclined to hear Ketch out.

"Get the fuck out of here." Dean growled. Ketch looked at Dean, his eyes dropping at Y/n for a split second. She gave him a small nod and the British man complied to Dean's order. He turned around and left the bunker. Sam and Dean lowered their guns and put them under the table.

"Who was that?" Y/n breathed out. "What's his deal?"

"Don't worry about it." Dean brushed it off but she wasn't letting up. She wanted Dean to open up about the situation so she could give him her two cents and spin the situation to her advantage. Just as she was supposed to.

"So people just randomly show up at the place you live at? He has a key to your home?" She questioned. "What's Men of Letters?"

Dean sighed before he dropped beside her, he told her The Men of Letters were a secretive organization dedicated to preserving and protecting ancient knowledge about the supernatural. They operated from hidden bunkers, this is one of them. And Sam and Dean are legacies. The man that dropped by was a member of the British Men of Letters and they wanted to work together. But their methods were messed up. How they were self righteous pricks who think there's nothing wrong in what they do. That they're better than everyone else. Better than American hunters.

"You make it seem complicated." Y/n spoke after Dean was finished. "It doesn't have to be."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked leaning over the table, interested to hear her perspective.

"I mean, they want to work together, give you cases to work. Right?" She asked.

"But they want us to kill everyone, even when have the option to save them. That's not how we operate." Dean grumbled.

"Well, they don't have to know what you do on the job. It's not like you will work for them. You will work with them. They provide with with intel, weaponry and you work the case like you do. And they won't be onto your ass like it seems they are. Seems like a win-win to me." She spoke nonchalantly, not wanting to seem she was trying too hard to convince them. She just pretend to tell them how she saw it.

"I think she's right Dean." At least Sam was convinced. "We can negotiate our terms, and we can opt out anytime its feels wrong." He added but Dean was dismissive. He might need a little more persuasion. She hated thinking about using sex to convince him. But if she didn't do it, Ketch would kill her or worse, Mick.

"I'll think about it." He said getting up from his chair. Sam called his name to stop him, "I said I'll think about it." Dean snapped at his brother before turning to go to his room. Y/n shot Sam a look before she followed after him. She opened the door to his room ans saw him at the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his knees.

"Dean." She said entering the room making him look up. "Don't fret over it honey." She said coming to stand in between his legs, his arms immediately holding onto her. His jaw was still clenched and she rubbed over it to calm him down. "You hate him that much?" If only you knew how much I hate him. She thought to herself.

"I don't want to talk about it.” Dean replied looking up at her.

“It’s okay, there are a lot of other things in my mind that we can talk about. Or better yet, do.” She smirked down at him seductively.

“Is that so?” He asked pulling her into him. She nodded her head straddling his lap and leaning down to kiss him. Dean willingly let her take over, grateful for a distraction.

An hour later, Y/n was perched on Dean completely. Her chin rested on his chest as she looked up at him. She grew to hate herself more as time passed. She hated that he looked at her like she was his everything and she hated that she was not being honest with him. But she had to do what she had to. If it was just her, she would’ve told Dean the whole truth and she knew he would’ve done everything in his power to keep her safe from Ketch. But Mick’s life was on the line too. She can’t be selfish and leave him to deal with the consequences after everything he’s done for her. Part of her wondered if he had faced any problems now that Ketch knows she was alive, since he was the one who declared her dead to the organisation.

“You seem lost.” Dean’s voice brought her back to reality.

“Just thinking.” She gave him a smile.

“About?” If only she could tell him, she would’ve done it in a heartbeat. She needed to reel this conversation back to him and away from her.

“About how your head wasn’t into it.” She replied. She didn’t exactly feel that way but she played it by long shot.

“I’m sorry sweetheart.” Dean accepted and she thought that maybe she isn’t that rusty after all. “Just this whole British Men of Letters thing, they’re like so fucking annoying.” Dean grumbled.

Tell me about it. She internally rolled her eyes at the mention of those assholes.

“From what you’ve told me, I don’t think it could be that bad.” She started and Dean raised his brow at her. “If you see it the way I see it.”

“And how do you see it, baby?” Dean asked caressing her bare back.

“Well the way I see it, they send you cases—less time consuming, they tell you how to deal with unfamiliar creatures—less research. The more time you save the more time I get to spend with you.” She grinned at him mischievously.

“Charming sweetheart, only thinking about yourself.” Dean teased her, his words held no malice.

“Well you’re hot, can you blame a woman for wanting to spend time with you.” She said exactly the words he spoke to her ten years ago, bringing a chuckle out of him. “Besides, like I said, they don’t have to know what exactly happened. They’re not your boss. If they’re Men of letters you’re too.”

“You make solid points sweetheart. Are you sure they haven’t sent you here to convince me?” Dean joked and she froze slightly.

“I was just giving my opinion.” She replied not too defensively. Dean kissed the corner of mouth and she relaxed.

“Just teasing, baby.”

The next morning Dean informed Sam, he’s willing to give those asshole a chance, but on his own terms. He dropped Y/n back to her apartment since she bad a bakery to run. Sam called Mick to the bunker to talk. The Winchester brothers talked negotiations with Mick and Ketch wasn’t too pleased with the information. However he remained quiet because there was someone else who was going to get a piece of his mind.

Y/n’s phone buzzed in her pocket and she rolled her eyes at the name the device displayed.

Wretch: Get here.

Him and his fucking orders. She was sure she would be the one snap his neck someday. She always walked to her bakery since she liked talking walks but she did own a car she didn’t use much. Now would be the good time to put it to use. She drove to the British Men of Letters bunker and after putting her hand on the biometric scanner, she was allowed to enter.

“Care you explain why you made me drive all the way up here when Dean has actually accepted to work with a drama queen like you?” Was the first thing she said to Ketch as she entered the briefing room.

“Don’t even think for a second that I won’t shoot you. I’m running out of patience for that attitude of yours.” Ketch replied. Y/n didn’t reply instead she plopped on one of the chairs. “The Winchesters are still not completely on board.” He added.

“Well I’m working on it. At least they’re willing to listen to now without trying to put a bullet in your head.” She replied trying to keep the attitude out of her tone. “Give it some time they’ll come around eventually.”

A month passed and The Winchester were working cases provided by the British Men of Letters. There weren’t any cases where Sam and Dean could do anything different from what the Brits did. All of those threats needed to be eliminated and they did it precisely. Things were going as smoothly as possible given circumstances. Y/n and Dean were going strong and he didn’t suspect for anything at all. Y/n never contacted Ketch, it was him who reached out for mission updates. She kept her meet ups with Mick minimal and under the radar as to not raise suspicion. Also she didn’t want Dean to think she’s meeting with someone else behind his back.

Little did Y/n know it would all change when Sam and Dean had to go on a werewolf hunt, accompanied by Mick.

Y/n walked into the British Men of Letters. bunker where she was meeting Mick. It had been a while since they last met, so she decided to visit him. She made sure the brothers were at the bunker thoroughly occupied before coming here. She had to be cautious coming around since she could run into them. Dean had told her all about their hunt together. And how Mick helped heal his friend, Claire. Y/n was surprised he defied rules. She knew he also hated those methods. He was too scared to leave himself so helped her escape. Besides he was in too deep to get out. While Y/n was barely nineteen, she had a whole life ahead of her. She stopped in her tracks as he as she heard Ketch's grating voice. She concealed herself behind the wall and watched closely.

"You see I always suspected you had a hand in her escape. However, I didn't have solid proof, since you so cleverly showed a burnt body which had her DNA all over." Her heartbeat quickened as she realised it was Mick he was talking to. "And now you let a werewolf escape."

"We healed her." Mick raised his voice.

"You should've known better, Mr.Davies. What if it hadn't worked? What if she'd killed you and gotten away?" Ketch asked rhetorically. "The Winchesters are rubbing off on you when it should've been the other way around."

"We eliminated a threat by turning the girl back. We did what we had do.!" Mick argued. Before he could say anything further, Ketch shot him—right between the eyes. Mick's body dropped to the ground with a loud thud, and her eyes widened in terror. She covered her mouth to stifle a sound and quickly left the premises.

Her whole body was shaking. She had just watched her best friend, the man she owed her life and happiness to, be shot to death. Tears streamed down her face as she got behind the wheel and drove as fast as she could, heading back to the bunker, back to Dean. This ended now. She wouldn't let Ketch manipulate her into doing his dirty work any longer. Ketch had killed Mick, the only reason she had taken the job.

She pulled heavy bunker door open, her vision clouded by tears as she descended the stairs. Her sobs were loud enough for Dean who was cleaning his guns in the war room. Upon seeing her, he dropped everything and rushed to her side.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Dean's expression was one of distress. He had never seen her like this before; he had never seen her cry, and yet here she was, wailing loudly.

"Mick." She choked, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"What about Mick, baby? Tell me!"

"He killed him." Dean's eyes widened at her words. Who was she talking about?

"Hey hey, look at me! Cmon sweetheart tell me who killed Mick?"

"Ketch." She whimpered, her tears continued to drip down her cheeks. Her breathing became shallow and irregular. Her strength worn out as she went limp in his arms. Her head lolled to the side as she succumbed to unconsciousness.

Dean carried her to his room, bridal style. He gently laid her on the bed, tapping her cheeks lightly. He was at a loss of words and he sure as hell wasn't sure what to think. How did she know? She's not in the business, she doesn't know Mick or Ketch. She'd only met Ketch once when he dropped by the bunker. She doesn't even know what Mick looks like. Dean's only ever told her about their hunt. Thousands of questions swirled in his head as he watched her lay unconscious on his bed.

He decided to let her rest for a while and left the room to find his brother. He found Sam in the kitchen grabbing a mug of coffee. The younger brother took a sip as turned to his brother as he noticed his serious expression.

"We have a problem." Dean said his hands folded across his chest. "Ketch killed Mick." Sam recoiled at the information, jerking his head away from his coffee and staring at Dean, wide eyed.

"What? How'd you even know?"

"Y/n told me. She came in here ten minutes ago, she was a crying mess. She told me Ketch killed Mick and before I could ask her anything else she fainted." Dean replied, his jaw slacked as none of it made sense to him.

"How does she know?"

"That's what I want to know." Dean's voice was low. Threatening even. He wasn't sure of the situation but he had a theory. And he prayed to whoever was out there, that he was wrong. Because God knows what he would do if he was right.

Y/n woke up in Dean's room. She blinked her eyes slowly to adjust to the light. The events of earlier came crashing into her like wave. She didn't want to be alone. She leapt out of the bed and ran out of the room. She knew Dean would ask questions. She knew she'd have to answer him, tell him the truth. And she knew she'd have to bear the consequences of her actions. She might lose Dean. Forever.

She found the brothers in the library. Dean's head snapped up when he heard footsteps. Y/n meekly entered the library.

"I know you have questions." She muttered lowly. Both brothers looked at her expectantly. For her to explain whatever the hell was happening but she remained silent.

"How do you know what Ketch did?" Dean questioned, that was the first thing on his mind.

"I saw it." She replied looking at him. "I was there at the bunker." Her eyer brimmed with tears as the scene replayed in her head.

"What were you doing there?" Dean's gaze hardened on her. Truthfully he didn't want to know the answer.

"Because I am a part of the Men of Letters." She confessed and Dean's hands clenched by his sides.

"What?" Sam exclaimed standing up. "You're not making any sense. It's not possible. You've lived here for as long as we know." He turned to his brother. "You met her here didn't you? Ten years ago."

"Sam." She called out to him. "I'll explain." She took a deep breath. Her gaze was settled on Dean, unmoving. She wanted to see his reaction when he told them the truth. She wanted him to know that didn't have any other choice. "When we met, ten years ago. It was real. I didn't know who you were. But this time, Ketch sent me to you." Dean rubbed his hand over his chin, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Why?" Sam questioned.

"He said you two weren't cooperating with the British Men of Letters. That you two were meddling in the business and you two were dishonouring the legacy. So he sent me here to get you two to cooperate."

"And you got us to cooperate. You sweet talked Dean and you knew if he was on board I would be too." Sam completed with a scoff. Dean took a menacing step towards and if she was being honest she was a bit afraid of him at the moment.

"And what if we hadn't cooperated?" His voice was low with an edge to it. When she didn't answer he asked again, not so politely this time. "Fucking answer me!" He raised his voice.

"I would have had to kill you." She whispered, her head bowing down. Dean nodded his head taking a step back. If his heart was breaking he didn't let it show. The betrayal was too powerful for him to feel anything else.

"Get Out." Those two words broke her completely. She didn't expect him to forgive her but she expected him to ask for explanation. She'd expected yelling, fighting, questions. Anything but this.

"Dean." She whimpered as tears streamed down her cheeks. "They'll kill me."

"If you don't leave, I will." It was taking a lot restraint for him to not shoot her right there. Or even take her in his arms and soothe her pain. Each tear that fell from her eyes, was a stab to his heart. He had loved her. Sure he never told her but he was going to. But she manipulated him, used him for her gain. "Leave." He yelled and she flinched. She took a step back and turned around to walk up the stairs. She took slow steps hoping he would stop her, tell her stay but he didn't.

She sat in her car, her tears had stopped and dried on cheeks. She was completely numb. She had lost everything she loved within the span of two hours. Her best friend was dead. The man she loved, kicked her out and probably hated her guts. And the man that actually hates her guts will kill her now.

Her phone rang and she sighed as saw the name of the caller. Speak of the devil. With a deep breath she answered the phone.

"Get home." He said and hung up. What the fuck was that supposed to mean. She quickly drove to her apartment, her heart beating loudly in his chest. She opened the front door and jumped a bit when she saw Ketch sitting on the couch in her living room.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, staring at him warily. Her blood was boiling watching her best friend's killer in her apartment.

"You're lacking." Ketch replied. "Those boys still don't follow rules. Do better." He ordered.

"No can do." She replied and he was quick on his feet grabbing her arms and twisting it behind her back.

"What is that supposed to mean?" He was angry.

"Dean kicked me out. I told him you killed Mick. I told him I was your pawn in this game. So why don't you tuck your tail between your legs and run for your life?" She taunted glaring at him. "You don't want an angry Dean Winchester onto you."

"You bitch." He said pushing her in the wall. "He was stupid enough to let you go. But I'm not." He said slapping her cheek. Blood dripped from her cheek.

"I'm not scared of you anymore." She spat before grabbing his head with both her hands and bringing his face to her knee. She heard a crack as was sure she broke his nose. "I'm gonna fucking kill you." She threw a right hook which he blocked but she turned so her back was to his chest and flipped him on the coffee table.

"Cora is here. And she's gonna want to see you." Ketch said smugly getting up, punching her in the face.

"Oh, isn't she the bitch who's shoes you lick every given opportunity." She kicked his stomach, and grabbed the lamp smashing it on his head.

"Enough." Her last sentence was enough to piss him off thoroughly. He pulled out his gun and shot her in her thigh, right above her kneecap. She fell to the ground on her knees. He slammed the back of his gun on her head, knocking her out.

To say Dean was pissed would be an understatement. He was furious, he was enraged, he felt betrayed and hurt. But most of all he was heartbroken. He opened his heart for someone for once in his life and that’s what he got. Being stabbed in the back.

His anger erupted like a storm. With a snarl, he grabbed the nearest lamp and hurled it against the wall, where it shattered into pieces. Breathing heavily, he swiped everything off the desk with one violent motion, sending papers, books, and a glass cup crashing to the floor. His fists collided with the dresser, leaving dents in the wood as he tore through the room, leaving nothing untouched by his rage. The sound of breaking glass and splintering wood echoed through the space, a chaotic symphony of his fury.

Hearing the sound of commotion Sam rushed to Dean’s room. He noticed the room completely smashed and his older brother panting with his knuckles bleeding. But most of all he noticed the defeated expression on Dean’s face.

“I shouldn’t say this but-”

“Don’t say anything Sammy.” Dean growled, glaring at the taller man.

“Just listen to me once.” Sam negotiated. His brother kicked a the broken lamp before dropping on the bed. Sam took it as his sign to start speaking. “I’m not saying what she did was right..” Sam paused looking for proper words to continue. “All I think is there’s a bigger picture we’re missing. You met her ten years ago when we didn’t even know what Men of Letters were. Surely she can’t be working with them when you met her, you met in America.”

“You heard her, she said it herself. She’s a Men of Letters.” Dean replied with a scoff.

“All I’m saying is you should talk to her, ask her to tell you the whole truth. From what you’ve told me she seemed pretty shaken up about Mick. And she wouldn’t have cared if she was like them. Also he hasn’t been answering any of my calls.” Sam said holding his brother’s shoulder.

Dean was torn between listening to his brother or his heart. He knew Sam was right, there was more to it than it met the eye. And he does want answers. Most of all he really wanted to know if anything was even real between them. But a part of him never wanted to see her again. After a lot of internal debate Dean spoke up.

“She’s got a lot more explaining to do.” He said standing up from his position. Dean walked out of his room and Sam followed behind him. The two brothers got into the Impala and Dean drove to her apartment.

Dean’s heart beat quickened when he noticed the door was wide open and he grabbed his gun from his jeans. Sam doing the same. They cautiously stepped over the treshold and the scene before them baffled them. The whole place was trashed. The coffee table was broken, the carpet was stained by a lot of blood. It looked like someone had gotten shot here and Dean didn’t want to think about it.

“Son of a bitch.”

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart

@riah1606 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @hobby27

@starkleila @suckitands33 @m3ntally-unstable @kanekilovelove-blog @candy-coated-misery0731

@blackcherrywhiskey @ladysparkles78

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katyspersonal · 6 months ago

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nobody:

Kood: Oh, so, you "like" Messmer? Say the exact amount of strength applied which it took him to impale every single Dancing Lion that he hunted. Name the day he finished reforging his spear for it to become throwable and how many times did he have to throw it. Say the exact timing, down to tens of second, which it took him to cu-

Queelign: I am literally lurking in the cemetery waiting for those graceless Hornsents to visit the graves of their killed ones to ambush and kill them too, Queen Marika would be so proud of me! :D

Wego: Man I wish I had friends, too bad I literally have no one, I am so lonely I'll have to resort to resurrecting dead people :( *spoken literally nearby fellow Knights, including his literal pupil*

Salza: Hey just because I take #1 place amongst everyone else in the Crusade in terms of how many villages and houses I've obliterated doesn't mean I am no longer an intellectual elite. I am the most civilised, cultured and intelligent person here.

Hilde: These idiots do not understand that even the Erdtree itself stand on cultural appropriation! How can we fight in the name of Marika and uh... I think that guy literally named Whore at some point, with that big lion...? if we ignore how much was stolen from the Storm Lord and Godskin Apostles? I swear I am the only one who truly gets it smh. Can't wait to get rid of all Hornsent already so we can use their knowledge to build our OWN Divine Spiral, it will be sick af 👀

Messmer: Hahah no one loves my mother as much as I do, I understand what is better for her Order more than she does herself *mood swing* I hate that bitch, why she never loved me?! *crashes a head off a statue of her* *mood swing* Oh god I am the worst being I am more of a curse upon her than any of these graceless barbarians were ever, disowning me was not enough, she should have killed me... *mood swing* I should have burnt her and her Erdtree instead while I had the chance to do so, only in death we could stand equal *mood swing* I love her so much I can at least find comfort in destroying everyone who doesn't fit her world, it is the least I can do to atone for being born graceless myself *mood swing*

Rellana: Pledge to the Golden Order was a weird era but now we are so back, Stars/Moon and Fire have always been together, since the times of Fire Giants and Astrologers! But to think of it, does the 'Fire' that swears to exterminate everything spurned of the grace of the Erdtree count, if it was Erdtree's enemy? Strange, how the very thing that existed as its enemy got tamed to serve it instead? Dammit, my flawless brilliant logic got a crack in it all because of Messmer's mommy issues!!! (still love him and will die for him tho 🥺💙)

Andreas: I can excuse fascism and genocide, but I draw the line at being a SNAKE!

Huw: <prev so real, had I known my bestie was a snake I'd definitely not go and have sooooo much fun hunting Divine Beasts. I am so deceived.

Edredd: To think of it, more soldiers got executed here for no longer wanting to do genocide than fell from the blades of Hornsents, but idk a job is a job 🤷‍♂️

Garrew: *has the most fucking questionable Crucible aspect ever seen except no one wants to actually question it*

#elden ring #shitposting #messmer the impaler #fire knights #elden ring enemies #fire knight queelign #messmer's black knights #kood captain of the fire knights #wego fire knight elder #salza fire knight sage #fire knight hilde #rellana twin moon knight #this is what they are XD

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lostinlovingrevery · 1 month ago

Note

not exactly a prompt and more im curious about your thoughts on how hozier's "work song" fit how logan feels about life in general and his partner, especially old man logan

!!!!!!!

I have been super excited to finally sit down and work on this because that's DEAD ASS one of my fav songs and it's SO perfect for Logan.

I'm gonna be doing some indepth analyzing here so enjoy

Also here's the song link for yalls: Youtube

Boys workin' on empty Is that the kinda way to face the burnin' heat? I just think about my baby I'm so full of love, I could barely eat There's nothin' sweeter than my baby I'd never want once from the cherry tree 'Cause my baby's sweet as can be She'd give me toothaches just from kissin' me

Just this first chorus SCREAMS Logan. Immediately I'm thinking about his soldier days, and other jobs, like being a lumbar jack, cage fighting, limo driving, blue collar work yknow?

With Logans experience and long life, I think he'd had some strong opinions about the working man, government, relationships, etc. BUT this is more regarding love and you rn

I think Logan is a huge lover boy. Hes got thick skin, a tough skeleton (literally and metaphorically) but you break those walls and he's going to be ALL about you. Devoted, never straying from your cherry (teehee). He doesn't want anyone else because he loves you- you given him reason to keep going, your care and love for him is unlike what he's gotten in his long long life that was mainly full of violence.

You're the only thing on his mind.

hes not used to being touched sweetly. I'm not even talking about sex here- just you taking care of him, (esp Old man Logan in this case after being so alone and struggling!!!). Someone whos willing to take the time with him, support him, not make him feel lesser, etc etc.

[Chorus] When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her

UGH this is such an Old man Logan line but with Logans regenerative ability this fits Logan in general too!

This line applied to Logan could be something that it's not his mutation that keeps him coming back. Maybe his cells do regenerate every time he's killed and comes back. Or maybe his pure determination to go back to you, is what makes him come back.

in Logan (2017), it's mentioned by others that he wants to die.

I think if he has someone to come back too- someone who wants him as much as he wants them, Logan would have kept going. I think in terms of Laura he loved her, but that final blow was him committing his final act- knowing he did what he could to protect Laura and now she was safe and could grow up.

If there was a lover in the picture tho, I feel like it'd have SO much differently....

[Verse 2] Boys, when my baby found me I was three days on a drunken sin I woke with her walls around me Nothin' in her room but an empty crib And I was burnin' up a fever I didn't care much how long I lived But I swear, I thought I dreamed her She never asked me once about the wrong I did

MMMMM this is good. good shit right there

Logans commited a lot of sins. You could be talking about anything here. I think this could imply how much logan admired you because you never judge him ONCE. Despite what his hands have done. Despite how much he despises himself for the things he's done, both willingly and unwillingly.

He's an alcoholic, even if alcohol doesn't quite effect him like anyone else, the metabolic removing the drunkness quicker than most people- he still drinks. Drinks to forget, drinks to relax, drink to become violent (theres a comic of him and gambit going to go drink so they can get into fights)

I always took the empty crib line literal, as in losing a baby- but now I'm kinda like maybe in regards to logan it could be him losing his childhood. He spent his adolesence, young adult years, and more having to fend for himself, deal with all the things his mutation brought on. I mean- jesus imagine how freaked out he was the first time he should have been dead????

I think before you come into his life- he was ready to go for a long time. Logan is a realist, and he's good at accepting responsibility and sacrificing his own safety and happiness. If it meant to protect someone else- he would- and has- lay down his life. He just keeps coming back anyway- maybe logan looks down on himself for that. maybe because he keeps coming back that he feels like the sacrifice he makes doesn't count- the loved one he's protecting (you, laura, anyone else) is alive but he isn't and he feels like he's failed somehow?? interesting, i need to think about this and articulate it better later.

You coming into Logans life when he's a wreck, downtrodden. However it happens, however your relationship develops, when he realizes he likes you- and wants you to stay around, you're gonna be like a dream. He's going to start to wonder if his old ass is finally losing it, Meeting somebody you could consider your soulmate, partner, etc, can be rare for people. Logans lived a long time, had a fair share of partners that never worked out. He meets you finally, how the hell are you supposed to be real? Is this why he's lived so long?

[Chorus] When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her

When it comes to old man logan, I like to think about how you give him will to want to keep going, to come back. He "Dies" at the end of Logan, but you bring him back because he needs you. (spoilers for my logan fic....)

there's probably something poetic about resurrection and romance to put together but i'm not smart enough to write about that (yet. let me stew on it)

[Verse 3] My babe would never fret none About what my hands and my body done If the Lord don't forgive me I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me When I was kissin' on my baby And she put her love down, soft and sweet In the low lamplight, I was free Heaven and hell were words to me

ONCE AGAIN

You never fret over his sins. You don't ask him if he doesn't want to talk about it. I think him having that acceptance from you- acceptance he never felt most his life. From society, his family- hell his brother looks down at him and calls him runt!!!

He doesn't care about anything and anybody else- including god because if you're able to love him as who he is he doesn't need any of that. He'll be happy for it to be just you and him in the end.

He probably has a complicated ass relationship with god. Idk what his religion technically is- if it's ever been acknowledged in the comics. I def could see in his later life him not giving much stock towards it. Maybe he thinks gods real but maybe he's also got some serious beef with god.

He probably considered the idea that he'll never see heaven because he doesn't die. Maybe wondered if hes actually in hell.

Meeting you though makes him throw it all out the window. he doesn't care. He's got someone he loves in his arms and everyone else can go fuck themselves.

Having you apart of his life, so sweet, soft, accepting. He's addicted to you. He's not gonna let you go anytime soon.

I think a lot of what i wrote applies to old man logan, with the consideration that he literally, yknow, dies. BUT

we'll pretend he doesn't and he's totally crawling out of his grave to come back to you and it was all such a BIG misunderstanding <3

#van rambles #logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #vans daydreams #wolverine x reader #old man logan #this prob isn't the in depth but i actually have thought about this song relating to logan like crazy

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pepsiboyy · 1 year ago

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starboy part 1

P1 P2

pairing: y/n x chris sturniolo

summary: y/n, born and raised in los angeles, moves across the country to boston. when she feels like she has nobody, she makes some new friends at her new job. she grows particularly close with the sturniolo triplets, where she finds a lot in common with one of them.

warnings: just cursing

lowercase intentional!!!

author's note: hii! this is my first story on here and i hope it goes okay?? idk i suppose we will see where it goes. thanks a ton for reading!! let me know what you think! sincerely, apollo <3

my head smacked against the car window, causing me to immediately lift my head and blink a few times.

"morning, y/n. sleep well?" my mom carefully stated while looking at me in the rearview mirror. i shrugged and tried to keep my eyes opened as i watched all of the unfamiliar buildings pass by.

everything was so different here.

a few weeks ago, my mom received a job offer here in boston. our family didn't particularly struggle with money, but if she wanted to keep her job, we had to move.

me, on the other hand? i couldn't believe what i was hearing when she sat me down at the dining room table. "what do you mean we're... leaving?" i felt my hands shake. sadness? anger? i couldn't even tell.

"well, i got a job offer-" she started, but i immediately cut her off with my hands slamming against the table.

"fuck your job offer, what about everything we have here!? my friends, my job... everything?" i shouted, my voice beginning to shake towards the end.

"language," my mom started, but let out a deep sigh, "i understand your frustration. that's why we're waiting until you graduate."

i let out a shaky sigh at the thought. this wasn't fair. my best friend was still in los angeles, harper. she was my best friend since childhood, and leaving her hurt more than anything i could even describe.

"we're here," my mom breathed, looking at me through the rearview mirror. i could tell she was trying to read my emotions, sadness in her eyes. i stared at her for a few moments before opening the car door and stepping out quickly.

"wow, it's gorgeous." i heard my father say, his arm wrapping around my mom's waist as he kissed the top of her head. i felt myself physically cringe as i grabbed my bags and a few pairs of shoes that didn't fit within the bags. i looked at the house in front of me.

it was pretty nice. fairly homey. very different from our house back in california. i took in a deep breath before beginning to walk towards the door.

my room was pretty nice, i had to admit. it was a little bigger than my room back at home- or.. what was home, i guess. i laid against my bed and stared at my ceiling before standing up.

while i was packing, i applied for a few jobs here in boston. a lot of them turned me down as i only have a little bit of work experience, but what can you do? i guess. i got accepted by a grocery store though, one i hadn't seen before. it was called star market? we didn't have those on the west coast, but they're pretty popular here. the pay was minimum wage, but it's a start. it didn't really matter to me. anything to get me out of the house and just do something. get myself out there.

i let out a deep sigh and closed my eyes. with every thought racing through my head, finally i managed to let my mind rest and slowly drift into sleep.

"y/n, are you sure you'll be okay?" my mom mumbled, carefully touching my hair and fixing the loose strands. i chuckled softly and nodded. "i'll be fine, just a bit nervous. new place and new job." i mumbled, playing with my fingers. my mom nodded.

"i understand. you'll do great. just talk to your coworkers, maybe make friends?" she asked, smiling. i sighed.

i know she's simply trying to help, but it's hard. i had a perfectly great life in california and i feel like i'm being forced to restart completely.

"right." i replied, letting out a sigh before stepping towards the door.

my earbuds were playing music as i walked. i didn't have a car yet, so.. i had to walk. it's right down the street, so no biggie. in broad daylight, i didn't see it as a big deal. i hummed as i turned a corner, and sure enough, it really was right there. i crossed the street and approached the doors, blinking a few times.

so this is my new job. it looked a lot nicer in person than in the pictures. that made me feel a little better. i walked in.

"hi, umm... my name is y/n.. it's my first day?" i mumbled shyly to the older lady standing at the front. she looked me up and down. i swallowed and gripped my backpack's straps, looking around. why was she looking at me like that.

"you're y/n y/l/n?" she started to smile, and i felt a wave of relief wash over me.

"yeah," i smiled softly back.

"cool, let me call nick over." she told me before turning away and beginning to say something into her walkie.

after a few minutes of awkwardly standing with my hands in my pockets.

"hi-"

"oh fuck-" i gasped, turning around and grasping my chest. my eyes widened as i shook my head, "oh god i'm sorry- i didn't mean to say that, you just scared me," i breathed, smiling softly.

the boy laughed softly and shook his head. "oh, girl you're completely fine, i'm the same way," he chuckled.

i smiled softly. i then gasped and quickly held out my hand. "my name is y/n, it's my first day." i looked up at the boy with the nose ring and curly hair in front of me. i assumed he was nick.

"hi y/n, i like your name a lot. it's pretty! i'm nick. lose the formalities, let loose, you're good." he smiled and shook my hand softly before pulling away and beginning to walk away. i followed.

"are you from around here, or?" nick asked, turning to me and beginning to walk to the back.

"ah, yeah.. i uhh, moved here from los angeles, actually." i scoffed.

nick seemed to throw his eyebrows up as he turned to me. "los angeles? really? i've always wanted to go, i've been like once but... i still want to go, doesn't change anything." he smiled before he quickly turned to me. "sorry, it's probably like... not that special to you, but," he shrugged, "it's across the country. i mean, culture shock.... is that a real thing?"

i smiled brightly. something about the way nick spoke to me so casually was really comforting. "oh, it's definitely a real thing."

as we walked towards the back, we passed a boy with similar hair and features, and i blinked at him before i shrugged it off and kept following nick. nick seemed to notice this though, and smiled. "that's my brother, matt," he mumbled, and i smiled and nodded. "you two look really similar." i replied, before we came to a stop.

"this is where you'll clock in every day. just type in your employee number and tap clock in," he told me as he demonstrated. i nodded carefully. "it's totally normal if you don't remember your numbers, i wrote them down for you." he handed me a sticky note. i smiled and folded it, putting it into my clear phone case.

"i appreciate it, thanks." i smiled.

"and that's how you do it," nick stated confidently.

to be brutally honest, i was still a little lost. we kept just talking about life, random things. i found out nick and i got along really well, and we were the same age.

"i appreciate you walking me through everything," i breathed, rubbing my arm. as we walked back to customer service, i noticed a boy with longer brown hair kneeled down and putting some things on a shelf. i could hear the music playing from his earbuds from here.

nick looked at me and smiled. "oh, and that's my other brother. chris." he smiled. i blinked at him. "you guys all look the same," i started, and he stopped me. "yeah, we're triplets." he chuckled. my eyes went wide as i smiled softly. "wow, you don't see that every day." i chuckled and walked past chris.

"matt, this is y/n. she's gonna be working up here at customer service with you." nick told him, and matt turned to me with a soft smile. i smiled back at him.

"hi, i'm matt." he mumbled, holding out his hand. we shook hands quickly. this guy was so shy but he seemed cool, too. "hi, matt." i smiled at him.

the day went by surprisingly fast. i talked a lot with matt, and found out that we have a lot of similar tastes in music and style. "you should talk to my brother chris, he likes that a lot too," he would tell me. i felt like he said it every other sentence, actually. "wow, i really gotta meet this chris guy then, don't i?" was how i finally responded.

matt nodded with a warm smile. "yeah, you do." he smiled.

he helped me a lot with customers throughout the day, and learning the system. he was very helpful, and the way he spoke with customers was kind of admirable. i was excited to be as knowledgeable as he was to those who needed it.

"what do you drive?" he asked me after helping someone, and i blinked. "oh, i don't drive- i walked here." i smiled at him, but my smile dropped when i noticed him look at me with shock, and some worry. "you walked here?" he asked, blinking a few times. i shrugged. "yeah, my house is literally right around the corner.

"i can take you home, i wouldn't walk around at night," he stated firmly, looking at me with only seriousness. i smiled softly. these guys were really nice. "i'd umm.. i'd like that, actually." i smiled.

"matty-poo, are you clocked out yet?" a voice rang in the distance, very similar to his.

"i told you to stop calling me that, chris. have you met y/n?" he questioned, smiling at him. i looked over at chris and felt like i might stop breathing in that moment.

he was stunning. and he may have looked nearly identical to the other two, but something about his hair and the way it perfectly fell on his head, the way he was dressed so laid back and clearly himself yet still appropriately for work.

"y/n?" i heard matt say as i turned quickly to him and then back to chris. "oh, right, sorry. hi, name's y/n," i chuckled shyly and held out my hand. chris, instead of shaking my hand, dapped me up and snapped softly afterwards. i chuckled. i didn't know people did that in boston, too.

"hi, i'm chris." he smiled softly.

"i gotta finish cleaning up a few things here, if you and y/n wanna head to the car? we're giving her a ride home." matt mumbled as he was getting the trash together. i offered to help, but this guy insisted on doing closing duties for the night.

"oh okay sick, sure. come on, y/n." chris stated and began walking towards the car, pulling his hoodie over his head. i followed closely behind him. it was sort of awkward at first, but i heard his music again and smiled softly. i tapped his shoulder, indicating i wanted to tell him something.

"poppin by yeat?" i asked, and he blinked a few times, fully putting his earbuds away and into his pocket. "damn, you listen to year?" he smiled and put his hands in his pockets.

i chuckled and shrugged. "i dabble. i listen to whatever sounds cool." chris smiled. "good taste." i nodded as we approached what i assumed was their car. a kia sedona. simple, but perfect for them, i thought.

chris leaned against the side of the car, and after some thought, i leaned against the car beside him. "the stars are really nice here in boston, much easier to see than in los angeles." i chuckled. chris looked at me as he hadn't heard the rundown yet. "you're from los angeles?" he questioned, and i nodded softly. "that's sick." he stated and turned back to the sky. "me and my brothers have always wanted to go." he smiled softly to himself.

i chuckled and nodded, having heard a few times but decided to keep my mouth shut. "it's nice, but i guess because i'm used to it, it really isn't that exciting." i hummed. he seemed to understand what i was saying.

we sat in silence for a few moments before he turned to me. "why'd you move?" he asked, and i scoffed. "i um.. my mom got a new job. just like in the movies." i mumbled with a soft laugh, and chris smiled at me. "you graduate?" he asked, and i nodded. "yeah, left a week and a half afterwards." i mumbled. he frowned. "i'm sorry to hear," he replied, and i smiled at him. "don't be. i appreciate it though." he smiled softly. "yeah, no problem."

we sat in silence before he turned to me and popped open his airpods case, motioning it towards me. "airpod?" he asked, and i smiled and carefully took one, placing it in my ear. i checked them beforehand.

he put on music and we sat in silence and listened to his playlist. without a doubt, we had the same taste in music.

"y/n!!! how was your first day!!" nick shouted from the distance as he ran towards their car, making me smile brightly.

the car ride was peaceful, i sat beside nick in the backseat while matt drove and chris accompanied him in the passenger seat. chris and matt argued for about five minutes before we left about who would have the aux, and i smiled when chris got the aux and put on a song i was fairly familiar with.

"and then a left here," i stated, humming softly to the music. i saw matt shoot chris a glance, resulting in chris smacking matt's arm.

"aaand it's here," i smiled and sat up, waiting for matt to come to a stop before undoing my seatbelt. "i really appreciate you guys for today, thank you for helping me today and making me feel at home." i smiled gently. "i'll see you guys tomorrow?" i mumbled, and matt shook his head. "nick and i are off tomorrow, but chris will be there." he mumbled, and chris gave me a big thumbs up. i smiled softly and nodded, waving and jogging to my door.

considering the store closed at midnight, it was about 12:45 by the time i got in my room and sighed. my parents were asleep. i looked around and hummed to myself.

i'll unpack tomorrow morning, i thought.

i changed and laid in bed in my pajamas, staring at my ceiling. i really did have a great day, but chris and the way he just seemed to understand me really struck me. i looked at my hands and sighed softly.

no way i have lived here for two days and already find a guy cute.

i let out a deep, hefty sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. i'll see where it goes, i thought.

and with that, i slowly fell asleep, looking forward to working with chris tomorrow.

HELLO PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT U GUYS THING i feel like i rambled so bad in this??? this is my first thing i've written in a long time and it's very much like..... a pilot? it really goes through the reader meeting the triplets and going through the first day - i APROMISEDJGKSAJDFG it gets more interesting UGHHH ok happy 5am goodnight <333 sincerely, apollo <33

#christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #chris x reader

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