#like i’m going to pass out. like come on dog. this is your job
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soooo irritating how fast i’ll go from “i just ate recently” to “i am going to pass out in five minutes.” like what the hell am i supposed to do when that happens. this shit sucks. what do you WANT from me!!!!!!
#i only ate like four hours ago that’s a perfectly reasonable amount of time to not eat#remember when i went to the doctor bc i was feeling lightheaded a lot & they were like ‘yeah your iron is a little low but you’re not anemic#keep taking the iron supplement you’re already taking & things should be fine’ ok but if i’m already taking it & my irons low.. ??#am i just supposed to hope it GOES AWAY?? and like it did kind of just go away. but isn’t it probably related to how fucking often i feel#like i’m going to pass out. like come on dog. this is your job#god i feel like shit. i just ate a spoonful of peanut butter & some cherry tomatoes & another donut. i should go get some salt#chatpost
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“No more coffee, dove.” Remus takes the cup away from you and takes the mocha pot off the stove.
“But Remmy,” you whine and your boyfriend just levels you a look.
He pouts at you, all mocking and teasing which makes you want to stomp your foot. “No ‘But Remmy,’ you’ve had three. You’re cut off, my love.”
You can’t even be mad at him when he calls you nice things and gives you a kiss for your troubles.
Still you try. Then keys jingle in the door and your ability to get your way seems sparked up again, even if by a soft flame.
“Hi my darlings, I’m home.”
You give Remus a look that lets him know what you’re about to do and he resigns himself with watching you bewitch James like that’s your actual job.
“Hi Jamie! How was the gym?” Remus leans on the kitchen counter and watches you fawn over James to set you plan in motion.
“Good lovie. How was work? Were you trouble for our Remmy?”
You shake your head and Remus scoffs. James looks at him over your head and Remus only gives him a wink.
“I was super good! Was it arm day today?” Your hands slide up to his shoulders and then down to his wrists.
James chuckles, dimples popping out at he flexes. Your hands squeeze at his arms as he flexes and when James leans down for a kiss you really put the moves on him.
Your hands bury themselves in his still wet curls, tugging a little as you let James kiss into your mouth.
When you pull away, “Can you make me a fancy coffee, please baby?”
Remus rolls his eyes, “I just told you no, dove. You’ve had three.”
James looks down at you, a little smile on his face. “That true, angel?”
You scowl, “I really feel like I need a caffeine kick to get through the rest of my work. It won’t take long to wear off, either James. Swears.”
James doesn’t believe that part. The sun’s setting now and you really shouldn’t be having another cup of coffee.
He and Remus have spent many a night up with you while you all wait for the remnants of the caffeine leave you - not that they mind for themselves, they just don’t like you unable to sleep when it’s three in the morning and you’ve got to wake up at six.
You pout at him, holding onto his forearms as you stare at him with your best puppy dog eyes.
“Okay, let me go take a shower and I’ll fix you up one.”
You turn to Remus and stick your tongue out at him when James swats at your bum quickly making you hiss. “Oi!”
Remus only shakes his head as James passes you by to kiss Remus. “Jamie she really shouldn’t-“ James gives Remus another kiss, placating him completely.
For all his cheekiness, James had a subtle way of putting Remus at complete ease with just a kiss. “Be back in ten my loves.”
“You’re a brat.” Remus says playfully as James bounds the stairs and you give him a smug shrug as you sit at the table and start typing away at your work.
James comes back down and heads to the kitchen and starts making your drink. You hear all the wizzing and wowing of his fancy coffee routine and when he brings you a mug you look pleased as punch.
You take a sip and frown, looking up at James with betrayal all over your face.
“Decaf, Jamie?” It’s Remus’ turn to be smug, you dislike it on him entirely.
“Yes lovie. It’s too late for full caffeine and you’ll have been bouncing off the walls if I’d made one for you and wouldn’t have slept tonight.”
You just stare at him, James walks over to the table and kisses you. He can’t stand your pouty face. “I’ll make you a real fancy one in the morning before I head to practice, yeah?”
He pecks your lips when you don’t answer, and again when you hardly kiss back. James keeps at it until you giggle which is only three more kisses. He savors the kisses and your giggle.
“Yeah, Jamie.”
Remus comes to the table to meet you two, “What about my kisses?”
You pretend to think about it before kissing Remus lips, pecks following a sloppy trail all over his cheeks making him blush.
“Love you, Remmy.”
He smiles, turning your face so he can kiss your lips again. “I love you too, dove.”
James pouts, both you and Remus kiss his cheek before he can even ask.
“We love you Jamie. Loads and loads.”
He smiles, a megawatt spotlight really, and kisses you both back.
“What are you thinking of for tea? A chippy?” James asks, hand in Remus’ hair and on your cheek as you look down to your laptop and save your work.
There’s no point in trying to do any of it now that you’re all home. “Yeah, can I have cod this time? Didn’t fancy the haddock last time.”
Remus nods, “Anything you want, lovely girl.” James is already on the phone placing everyone’s orders, not forgetting everyone’s add-ons.
#remuslupin#jamespotter#remus lupin#james potter#james potter x reader#poly!marauders#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders blurb#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders x you#james potter fanfiction#james potter one shot#james potter oneshot#james potter imagine#remus lupin one shot#remus lupin oneshot#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin imagine#poly!moonchaser#poly!moonchaser x reader#poly!moonchaser fanfiction
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good boy.
art donaldson x reader (wc: 2.9k)
summary: as Art’s personal physical therapist, it’s your job to fix what Tashi has torn apart, by whatever means necessary. or in which Art just needs some TLC
warnings: 18+ smut, it could be worse tbh, mentions of disordered eating
author’s note: i’m back ig?? im out of uni for the summer and challengers has me in a chokehold. Art Donaldson the man that you are
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You're standing just within earshot of the doorway, passing a sanitary wipe over one of the tables in the athlete treatment room when you hear the door abruptly open. Tashi storms in with a purpose and Art trails meekly behind her. Even if you had been clueless to how the match had gone rather than on the sidelines beside Tashi not even twenty minutes ago, you could have guessed by the hard line of her mouth that Art was in for it. Not that her displeased scowl was much different from her usual scowl, but you'd been around long enough to know the difference.
She stops abruptly, and Art heels obediently as Tashi turns around to face him. "I need you to tell me when you're going to fucking get it together so that I can stop wasting my time."
Weary and sweat soaked, Art just stares at her with that pitiful look on his face and says nothing in reply. His blue eyes solemnly take in her harsh disappointment as though beyond used to it. At this point it's not all that foreign to you either.
"You may as well be fucking asleep out there," she snaps.
This time his mouth opens. "I- I'm just tired-" he begins, although there's hardly any argue to his voice at all.
"No, I'm tired, Art," Tashi interjects. "Do you have any idea how much fucking work I've put into getting you back onto the court this past year?! I've done everything! The least you could do go out there and try to act like I've done anything for you at all!"
Art swallows, the slight frown on his face deepening. "I am. I just- I don't-"
Before he can even finish his sentence. The open palm of Tashi's hand connects with his cheek as she pops the left side of his face. Art closes his mouth. You pretend to concentrate on wiping down the table. It's not the first time you've witnessed one of these conversations but it still feels private, like you shouldn't be here. You keep wiping the table.
Understanding that anything else he says is only going to make Tashi angrier, Art resigns to once again watching her in silence. His blue eyes are sad. The usually fair skin of his cheek is tinted pink where she popped him. Although it wasn't very hard, you're sure it still hurt him all the same.
"Quit wasting my time," is all she says before she finally turns and leaves, walking right past you and out the other door. You hold your breath as she passes you. Art watches her go but makes no move to follow. You release an audible sigh. It's been a frustrating day for everyone. As Art's personal trainer, physical therapist, and close friend, you felt every loss, every ache and pain, every bad play. And there seemed to be a lot of those lately.
Art is still standing there, watching the closed door that Tashi left though.
Not knowing how to break the silence, you finally pat the freshly sanitized treatment table. "C'mon," you call gently, as though beckoning to a wounded dog.
It takes a moment for him to budge, but eventually he does, his disheartened spirit apparent in the way he walks over. Used to the usual routine, he tugs his damp shirt off over his head as he takes a seat, the lean muscles of his torso flexing as he does so. You allow yourself to ogle at him, only for a brief moment before stepping in between the bracket of his knees. Gently, you cradle his chin, tipping his head back to look up at you as your thumb smooths over the redness of his cheek. His blue eyes blink up at you, sad and dog-like.
"It wasn't terrible," you reassure him. "You had surgery six months ago. You're still getting your feet back underneath you. Most people wouldn't have come back." You're right. The still-pink scars on his shoulder are still fresh on your mind. The stitches weren't even out before Tashi had him in physical therapy. Even though his medical team had released him, it was still a bit early to start doing rehab so soon after surgery, Art's comfort being your biggest concern. But when Tashi wants something, she gets it.
Wordlessly, Art sighs, the weight of his head settling into your palm as he finally lets go of the tension he'd been carrying. It was always like this. You fixing what Tashi had torn apart. You understood where Tashi was coming from. Art needed a firm voice in his training, and you had a lot of respect for the way she put her foot down and never let up, not even once. But there was only so many times you could kick a dog while he was down.
So if Art needed someone to coddle him, you would coddle him.
He trusts you. He needs you, is what Tashi had told you when she asked you to stay on as his trainer full time. The three of you had been in the same year at Stanford all those years ago, Tashi and Art on the tennis team and you helping out as a student trainer as part of a class requirement. Three peas in a pod, the trio of you were. Of course then they both graduated, leaving you to finish up your schooling, meanwhile Art set off to go pro.
A few years later, once Tashi officially took on the position as Art's coach, she began building his team, and that's where you came in. You were hesitant at first.
'I already lost to you once, Tashi. I won't come in second to you again.'
She had paused on the other end of the line. Back in your Stanford days, it was obvious to anyone with eyes that you were head over heels in love with the blonde tennis player. But loving Art was like accepting the participation ribbon for a game you knew you weren't going to win in the first place. It was like standing next to the podium, just lucky enough to be included in the picture while Tashi and tennis took first and second place. And so you let him go.
'I'm not asking you to. This is different.'
Your hand slips from his face, and he forces his eyes open.
“Have you eaten?" you ask, stepping away in order to put some distance between the two of you and look for the granola bars that you keep especially for him. The gels were good sources of quick fuel in between sets, but they were hardly enough to even begin to make up for the calories he burned while playing.
Slowly, Art shakes his head, but he makes no move to take the snack from your hand when you offer it to him. Ever since his injury, nutrition became all the more important. So much to the point that every single thing that he consumed was mapped out to the exact calorie. Although he would never admit it, any sort of change in this routine made him incredibly anxious. Some days it was better not to cause him the anxiety than to force him.
Today, you insistently hold out the bar until he begrudgingly takes it from your hand. You don't move until you've seen him tear open the package and take a bite.
"Were you still feeling tight?" you ask as you walk around the table, stopping at the slouch of his turned back. You reach out to grasp at the joint of his neck and shoulder, your thumb smoothing over the kinesiology tape that's peeling away at the base of his neck.
He half turns his head to glance back at you. "You watched the match. You tell me."
His response is meant to be snippy, but it comes out more defeated than anything. To be fair, you've been his trainer long enough to know that if something was bothering him physically, you would have picked up on it.
"I want to hear it from you."
"I felt fine."
Your left hand follows suit on the other side of his neck, and you use both of your thumbs to apply pressure to what you assume will be a tense spot along the upper part of his traps. Predictably, Art groans at the attention. The muscles of his back contract as he fights the urge to shake you off. Relaxing the muscle hurts as much as it feels good. Besides his obvious discomfort, the rest of his body has gone lax under your touch. His shoulders have dropped at least an inch, and his chin has fallen to rest against his chest.
"Finish your granola bar," you reprimand him, your firm fingers working across his back until you find another spot that nearly has him jerking away. He releases a whine but obediently takes another bite of the bar. This time he finishes it before you have to remind him again.
You spend a few more minutes torturing him before you're satisfied that a majority of the tension has left his shoulders.
"Okay, good boy," you murmur, leaning forward so that your chest is close enough to brush against his back. One of your hands trails up to squeeze the back of his neck reassuringly.
You're close enough to hear him swallow at the name. The skin on the nape of his neck shivers despite how hot he still is from the match.
"Was I?" he asks timidly. "Good today?"
'I can be his coach. Or I can be the person he cries to after a bad day. But I can't be both. That's why he needs you."
Without removing your hand from his neck, you walk around the table so you're standing in front of him. Art widens the spread of his legs so that you can stand between them. His chin is still pressed to his chest, blue eyes focused on the ground.
"Art," is all you say, shifting your grip on his neck to tug lightly at his golden blonde hair. At your voice, he lifts his head just enough to look up at you through the pale wisps of his eyelashes. The irises of his blue eyes shine are wet with uncertainty.
Your fingers loosen their grip to allow your nails to scratch at his scalp. "You're good, Art. You'll always be good."
Art twists his head to nuzzle his cheek along the inside of your outstretched arm. His lips kiss the crook of your elbow. He swallows again. "Even if I don't play tennis?"
You can tell the question's been bothering him, eating at his nerves, and messing up his game. You know him well enough to know that retirement isn't what he wants, not really. At least not right now. What he wants is the reassurance that it's going to be okay if he can't swing the comeback.
"Look at me."
He lingers a moment longer with his lips pressed lovingly against your skin before he reluctantly shifts his gaze up to you. His look is anticipatory but reserved, as if to preemptively conceal his disappointment should you choose to crush his heart with your answer.
His fear is understandable. Art's relationship with Tashi has always been entirely built off of his tennis career. By being the driving force behind his success, Tashi has vicariously lived out the life she would have had had her injury never happened. Without tennis, Art has nothing left to offer her. He knows that if he gives up tennis, he loses Tashi.
Your relationship with Art was a little less conditional. Hell, you'd been in love with him since the first time you'd laid eyes on him at Stanford. You can still picture him standing there on the court, barely nineteen, scrawny, nervous smile, backwards cap over his strawberry blonde hair. Before he was the Art Donaldson. But when Tashi had stepped into the picture, you figured that was where your fairytale ended.
"I don't love you because of tennis. I love you because you're kind, and thoughtful, and you're passionate about what you do." You smile a bit before adding, "And you're my good boy."
The name turns him bashful again, and he's quick to turn and hide his smiling face against your arm, only the flushed tips of his ears visible. "[Y/n]," he mumbles, likely meaning to be threatening, but it doesn't come out that way.
Art Donaldson lived to be praised.
You laugh, pulling him closer so that his face is held against your chest. The hand that you don't have threaded through his hair trails up the muscle of his defined quad. "You're my good boy. Aren't you, baby?"
Art whines, squirming when your hand reaches the apex of his thigh and hovers over the forming bugle of his shorts. He's not quite there yet, his dick only half chubbed up in interest, but given the day that he's had, you won't make him wait.
"Please?" he mumbles, his face still buried into your collarbone, as if attempting to curling into you, like a small child needing their parent to hold them for comfort.
You rake your nails lightly up the inside of his thigh. "What, baby?"
Not only did Art liked to be praised, but he was masochist even on his worst days.
"Want you to touch me," he mumbles, his voice muffled by your shirt. "Please."
Your hand still scratching through his hair, you press a kiss to the side of his head, unable to suppress your smile at his timid politeness and how it never seems to fail him. The only time he ever resembled anything remotely voracious was on the court.
Palm finding his tented shorts, you cup him through the fabric. Art responds immediately to your touch, his hips shifting further into your grasp. You continue to pet him through his shorts, appreciating the way you can feel him actively responding to your touch.
His nails dig into the padding of the treatment table when you give his now fully hard dick a less than sympathetic squeeze. His breath is hot as he pants against your collarbone, alternating between laving open mouthed kisses to your skin and whining when you pause fondling him just to feel his hips rut up into your palm.
Art was so in control on the tennis court, that often after a match, putting the control into someone else's hands was just what he needed.
When his hips start to stutter, you ease up but continue to stroke him through his shorts. The front of his shorts are damp with the musk of residual sweat and precum.
His breath is shallow—anticipatory.
"Gunna come?" you ask softly, speaking into the blonde mess of his hair, cradling him. He right there, you can tell by the lackluster buck of his hips, his building fatigue, and the change in his breathing.
"Can I? —Please?" Art asks breathily. He hiccups out the last part, his voice catching.
"You know you don't have to ask."
There's a brief pause, as if coming to the realization, before he meekly murmurs, "I know.
It should be sad really, his unwavering obedience, but there are two sides to Art, two polar extremes. On the court, every match, every set, every debilitating second is up to him. No one else can help him out there, and up until about a year ago, he played like it. That was the side of Art Donaldson that Tashi wanted. After the match is a different story. In private, Art needed someone to do the thinking for him, to pull him into a reality where he could believe that it didn't matter whether he won or lost. Tashi had not the sympathy nor the patience for that kind of fragility.
Art comes with a brief cry into your chest, his body arching into yours. Your hand palms at his pulsing dick until he's oversensitive and pulling away. When you relent, the front of his shorts are sticky and wet.
Finally, Art lifts his face from the safety of your chest. His blue eyes are glossed over, but it's an improvement from the detached look they held ten minutes ago. His cheeks are flushed, a mixture of his own embarrassment and satisfaction.
You can't help the soft smile that creeps onto your face at the look of him, and immediately Art is abashedly trying to hide his face again, his own smile starting to appear. Before he can, you bring your hands back up to cradle his face, thumbs wiping away the wetness from under his eyes. This time he lets you.
His eyes study your face for a second, admiring you, appreciating the love he has for you.
“I don’t want to play tennis anymore.”
You can’t tell if it’s more of a statement or a confession. Either way, you know he’s telling you the absolute truth.
“Okay,” you reply softly, not hint of judgement in your voice. Maybe some disappointment, but that was understandable.
Retirement would be a kindness. Art would finally put back on some healthy weight, start smiling again, put on a real, actual smile. You could already see it, a nice house for the two of you to settle down in, with a picket fence and a dog in the backyard, the kind of things the two of you would have never had time for on tour.
Tennis had brought the two of you together, but it wouldn’t end you.
#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson#art donaldson x you#art donaldson x y/n#challengers#challengers smut#art donaldson smut#challengers imagine#challengers x reader
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Deed I Do
Real Dad Dogman!Leon S. Kennedy x Daughter Puppy!reader (one shot)
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, incest, age gap (Leon is late 40’s and reader is late 20’s), hybrids, jealous Leon, short and sweet, dirty talk, grinding, unprotected sex, breeding kink, knotting, creampie
ETA: this was a commission but I’m a dumbass 😭
Kofi commish by @bumpkin-batch
Word count: 1999
title from Deed I Do by Ruth Etting
Leon stretches, bones and joints popping loudly.
“Looking forward to that retirement, I’ll bet,” Jill jokes as she passes by him to sit at the desk behind Chris’.
“Yeah, yeah,” he rolls his eyes and stands up from his desk chair.
He usually works away from Chris’ desk, out on patrol alongside his owner, but after turning 40, they kept him pushing paper and training new pups. This new batch coming in has him excited, although he’d never admit it. It’s the very first litter he sired back when he was in the breeding program decades ago.
“Aww, aren’t they cute!” Rebecca coos as Chris brings in the new lineup of would-be police dogs.
Leon would roll his eyes, but he’s too busy cataloging each of the new pups. There are seven in all—five boys and two girls. Aside from the girl on the end, they’re all stoic and calm. She, on the other hand, keeps letting her emotions get the best of her—tail wagging happily before remembering to stay still.
Leon has a really good feeling she won’t be cut out for police work. It sends a little pang of worry through his chest, but he squashes it down in favor of watching them. As they’re put through their paces, Leon keeps an eye out on the girl. Just to make sure she does what she’s told.
Weeks fly by in this new routine. A few of the recruits are turning out not to be fit for police work. The girl is definitely too friendly and useless at trying to apprehend someone breaking the law. Another pup, a boy, is too hyper. He’s already broken through three harnesses and accidentally bit an officer.
But still, five out of seven new police dogs isn’t anything to sneeze at; Leon’s proud the majority have what it takes, like himself. The boy’s already been adopted by Barry. His two daughters have been begging for a hybrid to play with after school, and with his energy, he’ll be a perfect fit. The girl, on the other hand, is much too sweet and soft. Leon’s been keeping an ear out for what they’re going to do with her.
He’s taken a liking to the pup; she’s earnest and kind, something he doesn’t get to see every day. She’s started to hang around Chris’ desk with him when the recruits have free time. It could explain why Chris suddenly springs it on him that he’s taking her home at the end of the week.
“She’s just not going to fit in here,” the dark haired man gestures to the empty office, “and I don’t want her going to a shelter to sit for god knows how long. You two get along, and this way you won’t be home alone when you retire next month.”
Leon scoffs, but secretly he’s extremely pleased about the new situation. His own little girl is getting to stay with him. He can teach her all the things she wouldn’t learn here, especially with him being gone. And she’s so sweet. He’s happy he can spend this time with her and not have to worry about the job.
Friday rolls around, and you’re a ball of joy. Leon even finds himself smiling at your excited chattering while he leads you out to Chris’ vehicle. You grow quiet on the drive to your new home, but your tail wagging assures Leon that you’re happy. Chris helps you get settled into your new room, right next to Leon, and gives you a quick tour of the house as the dogman follows behind.
There are a few bumps in dealing with a new pup in his space, but Leon wouldn’t change it for anything. He’s looking forward to retirement just that much more. In the meantime, he shows you the ropes. Cuddling, playing, annoying Chris—you guys do it all together. You groom each other too, something Leon finds himself seeking out more and more. Lately, you’ve been smelling downright edible.
He’s had to excuse himself from your cuddling before he gets too hard to hide it. You’ve also been extra clingy lately, practically gluing yourself to him at every chance you get. Leon calls it quits midweek, and as soon as Chris opens the front door, you’re pressed all along Leon’s side with a wide smile.
“Congratulations!” You kiss his cheek, and he gets a whiff of something sweet and tart, making his mouth water.
You usher him into the kitchen and throw out your hands, “Ta-da! I made your favorite!”
Grinning, he ruffles your ears, “Thanks, sweetheart.”
You bite your lip, ducking your head out of shyness, “Thanks, dad. I hope you like it.”
Picking up the fork, Leon takes a bite of the lemon cake. Sweet.. tangy.. soft.. moist. The errant thought that this is what your cunt might be like makes his eyes flutter closed with a groan.
“It’s good?” Your eyes peer at him, ears perking up.
“Delicious,” he pats your head, and your tail whips back and forth.
“Chris, you have to try some!” You call out, heading back into the living room.
Leon takes a few more bites, mouth salivating at the taste. He needs to get his shit together. You bring Chris into the kitchen with you, and Leon watches him shower you with praise over the dessert. You become more and more flustered, and an ugly feeling of jealousy rears its head in his chest.
“You okay?”
With a start, Leon blinks, realizing a low growl has been building up in his chest.
“Yeah, sorry, just thinking about something,” he clears his throat. “Well, I’m beat, so I’m going to take a shower and head to bed.”
“Oh, okay,” your ears droop, and it makes his heart hurt.
“Did you need me?”
You pick at your nails, “Could we watch a movie together? I’m feeling kinda under the weather.”
Warm satisfaction suffuses him over your asking him and not Chris, “Sure, just meet me in my room once I finish showering.”
“Okay!” You smile brightly and hurry off to your room.
“I’m glad you guys are getting along,” Chris chuckles before stuffing another bite of cake into his mouth.
“Don’t eat all of it,” Leon points to the dessert, “that’s technically for me.”
“It’s one slice,” Chris rolls his eyes.
Leon’s nose twitches, and he waves his owner off, heading to the bathroom. After showering, Leon wraps his lower waist with a towel before realizing he didn’t bring a change of clothes. It’s a habit he’ll have to learn to break since you’ve moved in. Sighing to himself, he makes his way to his room, hoping you haven’t come in just yet.
His hopes are dashed when he sees your wide-eyed look as you lay in bed. His sheets are gonna smell like you, and it makes his cock twitch. Pulling in a deep breath to calm himself, he nearly chokes as your sweet scent floods his nose. He knows he’s looking at you a little too heatedly.
“Sorry, I’ll get dressed.” He finally breaks eye contact and heads to his dresser.
He throws on an old tee and slips on a pair of sweats under the towel before tossing it in the hamper. You scooch over to make room for him, and as soon as he’s lying back, you’re practically clambering on top of him. You throw one thigh over his legs, the heat of your cunt a hot brand against his leg. Burying your face against his chest, you nuzzle and scent your way up to his neck.
“Dad,” you whine, “I feel sick.”
“Sick how?” He murmurs, trying to clear the fog in his brain as you subtly grind against him. “Have you been taking your meds?”
You shake your head no, pressing your nose against the pulse in his neck.
“I ran out. Chris is s’posed to pick them up tomorrow,” you mumble, lips brushing against his skin and raising the hair on his neck.
“Oh, baby,” he croons, cock chubbing in his sweats. “It’s heat sickness, my sweet pup.”
No wonder you’ve smelled so good lately. He grips your hips and helps you straddle his lap.
“Take these off,” he snaps the band of your shorts, “gonna make my sweet girl feel better.”
Whimpering, you quickly slip off all your clothes until you’re sitting completely naked on his thighs. He pushes his sweats down just enough to free his hardening cock.
Your tail thumps against his legs. “Smell so good, dad.”
“So do you, baby,” he helps you sit your chubby pussy on his cock, pressing the thick length against his abs. “Just rub against me.”
Nodding your head, you brace your hands on his forearms as they grip your hips. Whining, your pussy lips part around his cock, and you slowly rut against him, dragging your slick all along his fat dick.
“That’s it, doing so good giving daddy a pussy job,” he groans, jerking you back and forth as you frot against him.
Whining, you hump down against his cock, precum and slick smearing across your cunt until there’s a sticky mess between you both. Leon grunts, feeling his knot starting to form at the base of his dick.
“Fuck, gonna make daddy pop his knot, baby,” he drops his head back as you moan loudly.
“Want it, please dad, my pussy feels so empty,” you pull away, shiny strings of slick clinging to his cock.
“Shh, shh,” he runs his palms up your thighs before bringing one hand back down to grip his cock. “I’ll give it to you, but you gotta be quiet for me, okay?”
“Okay,” you whisper, biting your lip when Leon slaps his cock against your pudgy clit.
He uses his thumb to press the head down to guide it into your drooling hole. You both pant and sigh as you slowly sink your cunt down until you're flush with your dad’s hips. Leon’s eyes nearly cross from how tight you are, walls soft and wet as they squeeze his cock.
“So good, fuck, gonna knot you, sweetheart, knot this sweet little pussy,” he growls out, pulling out to shove you down onto the mattress.
He manhandles you onto your stomach and yanks your hips up before fucking his cock back into you, bottoming out in your squelching heat. He sees you bite down on the pillow to muffle the cry that slips from your mouth. Your pussy flutters and grips his cock tightly, sucking him in until the tip kisses your cervix. Growling low, he roughly pumps his hips, slipping his cock in and out of your perfect pussy.
“You’re perfect, fucking meant for me,” he leans forward to bite and kiss your neck, “fat pussy a perfect fit for my cock.”
“Dad, dad, feels so good,” you whimper brokenly, “want your knot, want your pups, daddy.”
“Fuck,” he snarls against your ear, cock pistoning deeper into your greedy hole. “Cum for me, pup, and I’ll knot your wet pussy.”
He reaches underneath you to circle and pinch your swollen clit. You thrash and buck against him, mewling and gasping as he works you closer to your orgasm. His knot catches at your hole, and as soon as your back arches, your pussy cumming around his cock, he shoves his knot past your clenching hole and locks you together.
“Dad!” You cry out, voice muffled from where you’re pressed into the sheets.
“Ohhh,” he lazily humps your ass, rutting his cock and knot deeper into your cunt, “so good, baby. You did so well for daddy.”
You hum happily, and he nuzzles against your neck, laying you both on your sides so you can rest comfortably.
“I’ll fill you up again later to keep you from getting sick,” he murmurs in your ear and groans when your pussy milks and pulses around his cock.
“Thanks, dad.”
He smiles and presses a kiss on your hair. He really does have a sweet pup.
#real dad!leon s kennedy#dogman!leon s kennedy#fem!reader#hybrid au#hybrid!leon#puppy!reader#daughter!reader#leon s kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy x you#dldr#read the warnings
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Love Me Right
Part 1: Henrietta’s
Pairing: ConstructionCEO!Joel x Waitress!Reader
She's eventually gonna be a teacher again bc let's be real, i'm a one-trick pony.
This is a Millionaire Joel AU x Most Eligible Bachelor Trope
Summary: Joel Miller, CEO and Co-Founder of Miller Construction, hasn't been dealing with an Empty Nest very well. His family and friends have tried their best to cheer him up since Sarah left for college in the fall, but the storm cloud above his head remains. On top of that (or perhaps because of it), he has just been named one of Austin's Most Eligible Bachelors.
What will that mean for the new-in-town waitress he meets in his favorite diner? As far as she knows, he's just an average contractor.
Warnings: age gap (reader late 20s, Joel late 40s); family-centered trauma and conflict; lethal levels of fluff otw
A/N: Bear with me for this one y'all. My imagination is ambitious and my brain is obstinate. Title inspired by Sabrina Carpenter’s Short ‘n Sweet - bc i can’t stop fckn listening to Juno 🫣
Word Count: 4.6k
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“Tommy, there ain’t a chance in hell that’s gonna happen. Why on earth did you bring this to me?”
“Well they talked to Joanna at the front desk first. She said wasn’t going to bring it up to you, but I couldn’t just let it slide,” Tommy raises his eyebrows at Joel, shooting him a mischievous look. “Because one - I wasn’t gonna pass up the chance to see this look on your face, and two - would a little publicity be so bad?”
“Who in their right mind is gonna choose a fuckin contractor from the goddamn ‘society pages’?” Joel bristles at his brother’s amusement with an unwavering scowl.
Tommy stares right back, but the playful nature of his expression is unmarred. “Most men won’t Joel - but their wives will.” Tommy’s salacious grin is damn near wider than Joel’s ever seen. Christ, he’s loving this.
“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” Joel says plainly, rolling his eyes.
“Come on brother, think about it - plenty of busy men in this city with bored housewives in need of a project. He tosses her a few thousand to redo the dining room - well who’s gonna do the job? She hasn’t got a clue where to begin and then BOOM! She sees the list of Austin’s Most Eligible Bachelors in the paper - where she finds a photo of the distinguished CEO and senior founder of Miller Construction—”
“Senior, seriously?,” Joel deadpans at him. Tommy ignores him, continuing to wax poetic.
“And can’t help but wonder if the rest of his staff is as dashing as he appears to be,”
“Flattery’s cheap Tommy.”
“Of course then she meets with me and the deal is sealed.” Tommy smiles smugly now that his story is complete.
“Boy can you paint a picture,” responds Joel, rolling his eyes at his brother’s antics. “So you wanna parade me around like a two-bit hooker, huh?
“Whaddya say — can I give ‘em a call?”
“If you’re so hell-bent on ‘marketing’ why don’t you do it?” Joel says flippantly.
“Well I’m not a bachelor anymore, am I?,” he grins brightly at him. This time, it’s sincere.
“Don’t break your arm pattin' yourself on the back, Tommy. Maria mighta said yes, but there ain’t a ring on your finger yet. She’s still got a few months to wise up,” Joel challenges, his tone playful.
Tommy glares at him, but then gives a sobered nod. “You’re right about that. I know I’m a lucky fucker, and I’m not interested in testing that luck - even for a charity auction. Sorry to the dogs, or the food bank or — is it old people?”
“Hell bent on it, and don’t even know what it’s for? Christ - it’s a Make-A-Wish thing Tommy, damn,” Joel replies, looking bewildered at his brother’s callous and cavalier response.
“And isn’t your attention and concern for the bigger picture just what they need in volunteers?” Tommy retorts, expression still smug but eyes hopeful. “What, ‘s it gonna kill you to go out for once? It’ll be a formality at worst and maybe even a good time if you loosen up a bit.”
“I can think of a number of other ‘worsts’ than a formality,” Joel muses
“You’re gentleman enough to handle it just fine,” Tommy continues.
It has been quite a while since Joel’s been out of his house for much other than work or routine, and even longer since he’s been out with anyone other than Tommy, Maria, and the guys from work here and there. He’ll admit, he hasn’t been dealing with an empty nest very well. He’s done a pretty terrible job of keeping busy since he dropped Sarah off at school back in the fall. She’d gotten in exactly where she’d hoped, and made friends fast - for this he was over the moon - but he misses her like crazy. He’s been swimming back and forth in swelling pride and stabbing grief since September, ecstatic and aching all at once. He knew Tommy’s intentions were relatively pure, business interest aside. He knows they’ve been worried about him for a couple of months now - they haven’t exactly been subtle — they’d started having him over for dinner damn near once a week.
This newfound hobby of Tommy’s, cooking like a grown-up, had become the ruse en vogue for getting Joel out of his house. As Maria’s caseload grew at the law firm, Tommy wanted to make sure she had a real meal to eat when she finally got home — so he started cooking. Joel had to admit it was real sweet, watching his brother dive headfirst into learning a new skill just to take care of his bride-to-be. He claimed it only made sense with his far more flexible schedule, but Joel knew it made Tommy proud to be able to do this for her, and the very fact he wanted to made Joel proud as well.
Once Sarah left for school, however, Tommy quickly discovered his brother’s less-than-satisfactory habits of microwave dinners or forgetting to eat in general. He was a fair chef in his own right once upon a time, but without his little girl there to feed, bothering to make a balanced meal fell by the wayside. Joanna, a kindly woman in her seventies, had been one of the first to notice the change in Joel’s demeanor and the drawn nature of his features. Not much younger than the boys’ mother would be today, Joanna worked at the front desk of Miller Construction, greeting clients with a maternal warmth that, Tommy had to admit, was in part strategic. Disarm a client while they wait with a smile and you’d be able to pry open their hearts and their pockets.
Joanna was not unaware of the role she played in this game, though she did not approve. She’d informed Tommy of her concern for Joel, and the regular dinner invitations followed suit. This, accompanied with Joanna’s tugging Joel along to a nearby diner for lunch a couple of times a week in November had practically pulled Joel through the fall slump and into the new year. The holiday visits home from Sarah had helped a great deal, as well.
Joel wasn’t blind to his friends and family’s kahoots to help him through this patch. Though he sometimes grudgingly obliged to Joanna’s pestering him out the door because she hadn’t “seen you eat a bite all day. Four cups of black coffee don’t count, and you know it. Up!,” or Tommy’s employing Maria to send a text herself inviting him to dinner after he’d tried and simply received the finger, he was grateful for their efforts and care. Sarah was too, but he didn’t need to know that. Those lunchtime diner visits soon turned into breakfasts — a preemptive measure on Joanna’s part to add some time out in public to Joel’s routine of home — office — work site — home. Eventually she’d pavolv-ed him into it, and Joel was at the diner for coffee, breakfast, and one of the only physical newspapers left in existence every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at first following behind Joanna and eventually on his own.
Joanna had been with the Miller brothers since the business was far smaller, just a few years after its inception, when they started needing a receptionist/secretary/assistant, just someone who knew how to manage their slowly growing demand. She’d been a friend of their mother’s and had taken up some of the slack when she’d passed, grieving alongside her friend’s sons and looking after them in her wake. She’d been one of the only reasons Joel and Tommy had been able to build the tiny Miller Bros. into its current position as Miller Construction, multi-million-dollar contracting firm, and the largest in the Austin Metro area. Joel’s practical thinking and creativity combined with Tommy’s ambition and idealistic hopes of grandeur got them into successful meetings with investors that Joanna quietly set up via her husband’s business contacts. Their vision reminded her so much of their mother’s optimism she couldn’t help herself. She’d keep an eye on Sarah when Joel needed and ensured they were taken care of in the moments they would have needed their mother around.
As the boys’ surrogate mother figure and Sarah’s Aunt Jo, it came as no surprise that amid Joel’s season of empty-nested loneliness Joanna had begun encouraging him to “get back out there” and claimed that she “won’t be around forever” and “would like to see him settled before I go.” Classic maternal guilt-tripping, and Joel told her each time that he hears 70 is the new 50. She told him to try that again in a few years when he hits the real 50.
Truth of the matter was, Joel had been alone for a long time. He’d seen people on and off while Sarah was growing up, but it was a rare occasion, and no fling had ever lasted more than a couple of months. With Sarah at home, it never mattered much to Joel — he had someone to care for who was the best company he’d ever had right in front of him. She’d needed him a little less as she’d grown up, but he always had a purpose.
Joel was a natural-born caretaker — between brotherhood and fatherhood, he took to it like a tadpole to water. With Sarah away at school and his little brother engaged, however, he couldn’t figure out where to put all that love, and so it crackled into grief like a blackening candle wick, blooming into a flower of ash that nestled in his chest. The cloud of soot hovered around him for a while as he went through the motions of his everyday. Tommy, Maria, and Joanna all wanted to see him find his way again, as did Sarah when she received honest reports from her family members after some prodding. He always put on his biggest smile for her, never wanting her to worry, but she could see something hurting in his eyes, just below the surface.
While it may have been blatantly out of his comfort zone, Tommy and Joanna jumped at the opportunity to convince Joel when the Most Eligible Bachelors’ Auction came knocking. He needed something to disrupt his routine, with the added bonus of his coming out into the social scene like a plaid-clad debutante with a few extra crow’s feet.
After rolling the last few months’ events around in his mind for a couple of minutes while Tommy answers a phone call, Joel is broken from his reverie. Tommy’s standing in front of him again, waving a hand back and forth.
“Hey ground control - you with me?,” he asks before Joel’s eyes focus on him once again. “Can I give em a call?,” and this time Joel notices the concern in Tommy’s eyes as his joking facade flickers with hope. It’s more than just publicity, and he owes it to them to give it a shot.
Joel releases a measured sigh, relenting. “Can’t believe I’m saying this but sure, fuck it. Call ‘em back,” he says rolling his eyes, resigning himself to whatever nonsense his participation will entail. He reminds himself it’s for charity, and returns to his computer, refocusing on his work as Tommy darts out of his office to return to his own, reporting his success to Joanna along the way.
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You got lucky with this job at Henrietta’s, with its flexible hours and fairly livable wage, you had time to settle into your new place and get to know the city. You spend your off days wandering around, doing research on local schools and prepping your applications for summer school and the new year.
Never had you pictured yourself leaving students mid-year, and having to do it hurt like hell. You missed the kids you left behind every day, but when a friend caught wind of an acquaintance needing a subletter for a little studio within your price range, you didn’t have much of a choice. You needed to take up the lease starting in January, or you’d be starting over at square one. It had been a long time coming, this encroaching need to run and start over somewhere new. Staying in your hometown was no longer an option — work may have been a saving grace, but the other areas of your life were suffering. You knew healing couldn’t begin without separation. You needed to be far away from everything — it was the only way you could picture trying to feel whole again. Grad school had ended the previous year, so you fled.
With each mile you put between you and your family, you started to feel like your lungs could fully inflate once again. The oppressive air of scrutiny and memory that swam around you at home dropped off piece by piece with each passing mile marker. You’d put a few states between yourself and your parents once it was all said and done, and while it was scary, starting from scratch all over again, it was invigorating. You’d done it at eighteen when you left for college, you could damn well do it again with eight years’ more life experience under your belt.
You’d walked into the diner on your second day in the city. You had some money saved up from time living at home, but knew it would dwindle quickly with rent to pay and no salary coming in on the regular. You would need something to keep busy and pay for necessities until the end of the spring semester. When Diane, the manager caught sight of you, bright-eyed and looking like a deer in headlights, she welcomed you with a warmth you’d only read about in books. She interviewed you then and there and offered you a job on the spot, waiting tables on the breakfast and lunch shifts at least four days a week. She told you your “sweet smile and wide-eyed look will do wonders for you in tips, precious!” You think it’s probably just teacher face you can’t shake, and hope she’s right — maybe it could do you some favors until you get back in the classroom where you belong.
Diane’s rounded face was accentuated with wonderfully deep crow’s feet and smile lines that suggested a lifetime of sharing this warmth, and her dark hair streaked with gray around her hairline and temples rested atop her head in a frazzled bun. She made you comfortable out the gate, and had set you up with a uniform immediately. More aptly, she handed you a t-shirt and an apron to go over your leggings. You were thankful for the relaxed dress code, knowing plenty of other establishments required a much more specific ensemble. Once you’d changed she introduced you to your shift lead, Reggie, and the line-cook-on-duty, Tony, patting you comfortingly on the shoulder and insisting they welcome you, hoping to keep you around to solve their persistent staffing issue.
While Diane was quite a bit older than you, somewhere in her mid-fifties, Reggie and Tony were younger, floating between mid-thirties and early forties, if you had to guess. Reggie was a slim black man you’d put in his thirties, and he greeted you with a smile and an exclamation that he was more than ready to gossip ad nauseum with someone so much closer to his age. He’d been the one to fill you in on Diane’s immediate taking to you, letting you know with little ambiguity that you were just a few years younger than Diane’s daughter, who had moved out of the city about a year ago, and that you favored her to boot. Reggie had called this particular gossip session your orientation.
“Don’t get me wrong honey, Diane’s a sweetheart. But never have I seen her offer a position on the spot. I think having you here may do her some good,” he’d said, before turning to fill you in on Tony the line cook. “Yeah Tony’s hot, but he chain smokes like a chimney and doesn’t care at all when I ask him to keep his second hand smoke to himself on the days I have a performance!,” he shouted pointedly at Tony, who only looked up long enough to give Reggie the finger and wink at you. Tony was a muscular Italian guy in his forties with tattoos of a sort that didn’t quite match up with the gold chain and cross pendant hanging around his neck. When your eyes went wide at the wink, Reggie giggled a bit and leaned toward you. “Don’t worry, Tony’s a little sleazy but harmless. He’ll hit on anything in a skirt, but as soon as you tell him you aren’t interested he’ll back off and won’t bring it up again. He’s a good guy, but don’t tell him I said that.”
Over the course of your shift you discovered that Diane’s been at Henrietta’s for fifteen years, Reggie is a drag queen and lounge singer by the name of Wizz Tiria at a few different clubs around town, and Tony has a few other business ventures he mentions on and off (the details of which he keeps to himself), but never misses taking his Mom to church on Sundays. You share a good bit about yourself as well in exchange — what brought you to Austin, why now, and where you may go from here. It doesn’t take long for you to make yourself at home among this eclectic little bunch, and for the first time in a really, really long time, you’re content with the peaceful monotony of these early winter days.
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It’s a brisk February morning when you walk into the diner for your shift. You’ve spent the last month working in the cozy little greasy spoon, so you’re still getting to know the regulars, but you’ve caught on pretty quick. You’ve been working the Tuesday, Thursday, and weekend shifts, but when Diane loses another server, you’re eager to pick up the slack — extra pocket change and keep your mind busy. The company’s pretty good too. Thus, you find yourself walking into the diner at 7 AM on a Wednesday morning with a hoodie over your t-shirt and a scarf to ward off more of the wind cutting into your cheeks. You head to the staff room to remove your hoodie and don your apron and emerge, finding the diner a bit colder than it had been up to this point. You’d kept a light jacket or a cardigan on you previously, but today’s need for something heavier led you to selecting a favorite hoodie to throw over your work t-shirt — which you didn’t quite think through until you came into the dining room and felt a chil run up your spine. Diane catches sight of you before you can still yourself.
“Sweetie, what on earth fo you think you’re doing?,” she asks like you’ve done something obviously egregious.
“Huh? What is it?,” you ask innocently, but you know the answer. She can probably see the goosebumps you feel rising on your arms.
“You need somethin’ on under that, you’re gonna freeze in here today!,” she chastises.
“Yeah, I brought my hoodie, but forgot I’d be taking it off. It’s not so bad in here, I’ll be alright,’ you tell her reassuringly.
“Absolutely not. Wait, hold on a second - REGGIE! We got any more o’ those long sleeve souvenir shirts in the case?!” she hollers after him.
“Hold awn!,” he hollers back, Southern twang taking center stage when he yells, just like the rest of them. After a few seconds he emerges with a few in hand. “Got a few left. Ugly as hell, probably why they’re still here. Watcha need ‘em for?”
“Sweetie, go on and change into that before the rush starts. Not the staff shirt, but the branding’ll be fine in case Jason drops by,” she says, rolling her eyes. She pats you on the shoulder, nudging you toward Reggie to take one of the shirts. They’re bright green with a gaudy design on them that makes you laugh when he hands it to you. Jason’s the owner of Henrietta’s, and so you’ve heard, the bane of Diane’s existence. You’ve only heard tale of this rotten Jason thus far, never quite laying eyes on the mythical beast. You really hope today in this goofy shirt isn’t the day you do.
You return to the dining room a few minutes later clad in the neon green monstrosity, tugging at it in a futile effort to make it look better. “Happy now, Diane?!,” you holler as you enter, only to find her standing directly in front of you at the hostess stand, face to face with a man you’d never seen in here before — who you almost run right into, not looking where you’re going. He’s tall and broad with dark brown curls laced with grey streaks, and gray patches in the short beard that frames his jaw. He catches you when you nearly bump right into him, and you look up to meet the deepest brown eyes you’ve ever encountered. Your cheeks go red when you realize what you’ve done.
“Whoa there,” he says, smiling down at you as you stutter out an apology. “It’s alright, no harm done,” he responds, voice gentle but deep. It’s true, he didn’t even budge when he caught you, and you’re fairly certain if you’d fallen, the outcome would’ve been the same.
“Sorry about that Joel. C’mon, your table’s ready,” she says, patting Joel’s arm and leading him forward, not before turning back to you and saying, “Certainly am. Now go grab some coffee for Table 7 for me, will ya sweetie?” with a smile. You’d just run almost smack into a customer, and she wasn’t upset with you or anything. You shouldn’t be surprised, that’s just Diane, but you’re used to much larger reactions to small mistakes. You just nodded and breathed a sigh of relief, but your eyes are drawn once again to the man she’s leading away. He’s looking back at you with a smile that sends a shiver down your spine, one you’re certain has nothing to do with the chill in the air this time. He’s wearing a plaid button-down and a utility jacket, with cheeks and a nose tinged pink from the cold. You tear your eyes away anxiously and head for the coffee pot.
You’ve got your hand around the decaf pot, pouring another cup for the regular at the bar counter, when your eyes find Table 7, your next destination. You see the man, Joel, Diane had called him, with his back to you, facing out the window, newspaper in hand. You steel yourself once again, switch coffee pots, and head for his table.
You approach from the side, hoping not to spook him as he’s engrossed in the paper he has in hand. Christ, when was the last time you saw a physical newspaper? It’s kinda cute, you think, seeing someone reading one on a cold morning with a cup of coffee. So picturesque. Especially someone as handsome as he is, and you find yourself staring at his broad shoulders and dark curls again before he looks up from his reading.
“Hey,” you start, a little shaky, “sorry again, about before. Don’t know what I was doing, not looking where I was going,” you smile a little, shaking your head at your mishap.
“Really, it’s fine. You seemed, uh, preoccupied,” he says, looking down at the offending design on the tshirt you’re wearing, before looking back up at you. “It’s certainly a change from the regular uniform, huh?” he says, smiling at you. The way his eyes crinkle as he does plants a warmth in your chest you aren’t expecting. It’s been so long since you felt it, it’s almost unfamiliar. Your cheeks warm as you smile back at him, hoping it comes off as embarrassment from your wardrobe rather than bashful attraction. You’re about to tell him it’s certainly not a permanent solution, when he speaks again. “So, Sweetie, huh? Haven’t seen you around before — that what they call you in here?” he questions, smirk playing at his lips.
You laugh in response and introduce yourself, and tell him this isn’t your normal shift, but you’ll probably be around for it moving forward. You take his breakfast order, and tell him you’ll let him get back to his paper.
You don’t converse much more when you bring Joel his breakfast, just quiet thanks when you refill his coffee cup. He looks so peaceful, you almost hate to interrupt each time. You ask Reggie about him when you both have a minute behind the counter.
“Yep, that’s Joel. Gorgeous, isn’t he? Started coming in a few months back with an older lady, then more regularly by himself. She’s with him once in a while, kinda seems like a mom vibe, but she doesn’t look like him. Anyway, I think he works construction or something, always coming in with those boots on looking like a lumberjack,” Reggie says flippantly. “Heard from the older lady one day when he was in the bathroom — his daughter went to college back in the fall, they’ve been trying to get him out ever since,” he said, looking sympathetic at the thought.
You feel your heart do a little squeeze at this newfound tidbit. A fresh empty nester. You know how hard it’s been for Diane, so much she’s taken to parenting the staff in her daughter’s stead. Staring at Joel’s back as his head is bowed reading the paper, you begin wondering more and more about him. His daughter’s probably around eighteen, so how old is he? You’d guess he isn’t married, and you didn’t see a ring. Who is he? Why does he come here to read his paper each day? And most importantly — how soon can you find out the answers to these questions? You don’t want to ambush him at all and scare him off, but you’re drawn to him, and so very curious.
Meanwhile, Joel is stealing glances at your reflection in the diner window in front of him, watching you laugh with Reggie and the customers at the bar, smiling sweetly when someone makes a request of you. He needs to get out of there before he starts feeling creepy, he thinks. He rises and walks to the counter to settle his bill with Reggie at the cash register, glancing at you when he does so, futilely trying to balance showing interest and being weird. He leaves a nice tip in the jar for all of you to share, but just before he turns to go, he looks back at you, locking eyes.
“Oh uh, Sweetie?,” he says, smirk on his face. He looks almost bashful when he speaks next, like he’s working up the courage. “Glad you’re picking up. Look forward to seein’ you again,” he smiles. The look on his face when he says it is so sincere, you could melt on the spot. He was nervous about his joke, you could tell, but recovered when you laughed in reply.
“Looking forward to it too, Joel. Enjoy your day,” you say, smiling wide in return. He gives a little wave to everyone before grinnig down at his shoes and walking out of the diner into the crisp February air. Your eyes follow him out to the pick-up he hops into, before looking back over to Reggie and Tony, staring at you devilishly.
“And I’m looking forward to seeing this story unravel,” says Reggie, looking over at Tony and grinning, like something juicy has just unfolded before their eyes. The two are laughing while you smile and wave them off, wiping down the counter. Diane emerges from the office at the sound of their hearty laughter, reading glasses slipping down her nose, notepad in hand, and stares back at the three of you.
“What’d I miss?!,” she asks. You’re smiling too much to respond with anything genuine, so you return to your wiping, and let Reggie take the lead.
#joel miller fluff#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x reader#tlou fanfiction#joel miller x female reader#joel tlou#no outbreak!joel miller#no outbreak au#au!joel miller#CEO!joel#waitress!reader#this is it this is the multi-month AU in development#i could write more than two pages for months#then i wrote 4k words in 7 straight hours#age gap love#joel miller x you#tlou hbo#joel the last of us#joel x reader#joel miller#joel miller angst#joel miller fluff crusade
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𝐎𝐈𝐙𝐘𝐒 — 𝐠𝐢𝐲𝐮 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚
you get injured and giyu blames himself, although, it’s not really his fault, is it? 📝 gn! reader. for @meowzfordayz 4.1k event! might redo this only because i don’t like how i finished it off… we’ll see! hope you guys enjoy regardless! <3
word count : 600+
𝙉𝙊𝙒 𝙋𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙄𝙉𝙂 . . . 𝘏𝘌𝘈𝘙𝘛 𝘛𝘖 𝘏𝘌𝘈𝘙𝘛 (𝘚𝘗𝘌𝘋 𝘜𝘗) — 𝘔𝘈𝘊 𝘋𝘌𝘔𝘈𝘙𝘊𝘖
“i’m sorry, this is all my fault— ” giyu’s voice shook as his hands trembled. with the snow piling down as the moments passed, you could easily mistake his tremors for being cold. but you knew better from his worried look and somewhat glassy eyes.
“giyu, love, it’s not. stop blaming everything on yourself.” you said back, your voice straining against the pain in your side from which the demon slashed at— blood oozing out as giyu continued to panic.
“if only i’d arrived sooner, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“it’s not deep enough to kill me, i’ll be fine.” you tried to reassure him.
it was all too much, the flashbacks of death, his recent dreams of you in their situations. but he wouldn’t dare break down yet, not while you still needed to be taken somewhere to heal.
he ran as fast as his legs could take him while carrying you bridal style and slow enough so that you wouldn’t feel extra pain from his rushing. he hoped that you were right, that the cut wasn’t too deep, even if it was close to a vital point.
he could see the building of a wisteria house a few minutes later (he’s never been so relieved to see one of these), quickly handing you off and waiting impatiently to see you again after your treatment.
giyu felt terrible. he felt like the worst boyfriend ever as he paced outside the door like a dog waiting for its owner to come home.
could he have prevented this? this wouldn’t have happened had you been paired with another hashira. he’s just that bad. he wishes that you could be with anyone but him, someone that’ll actually protect you and make you happy— not… someone who can’t get over his past traumas and can’t even prevent a demon from attacking you.
he cursed the demon for being stronger than any lower class one. it wasn’t an uppermoon, but a demon with a powerful blood art can be threatening even without some of muzan’s blood.
the sliding door opens, making giyu perk his head up from staring down at the floor.
the elderly lady there smiles, beckoning him to come inside to see how you’re doing, on the way as he’s walking in talking about how lucky you are that the demon didn’t get any permanent damage done. she leaves with a, “i’ll have dinner ready for the both of you soon.”
you smile at him when he’s in view, holding out a hand as he carefully takes it. he kneels down to your level as you sit up the best you can, ignoring his protests for you to lie back down. you give him a small kiss on the cheek.
“it’s not your fault. it would’ve gotten me had you been there or not.” you start off.
“how are you so sure about that?” he tucks some hair behind your ear, interlacing his hands with yours.
“that demon was bad at concentrated shots at one target. it’s better if there’re multiple people, hence why most of its victims were in pairs,” you shrug, “it’s my fault for getting careless, you had nothing to do with it hitting me. i got the job done in the end anyways, and i’m at least alive, aren’t i?”
he nods, kissing your lips. “my heart still hasn’t recovered. it’s like i’m still afraid you’re going to leave any second.”
you smile at him. “i’m not going anywhere.” you pull him closer, his figure hovering over your body as you kiss him again, a little more intimate this time than his fleeting one.
“you’d better not.” he says as you pull away, your head finally resting against the pillow again. you giggle lightly as his own small laughter follows, the only thing on the both of your minds at that moment being so far away from the pain and misery from the world outside, focused solely on each other.
overluvsick | please do not repost, translate, and/or claim my works as yours !!
#demon slayer#kimetsu no yaiba#kny#demon slayer imagines#fluff#kny x reader#giyuu tomioka x reader#giyu tomioka#giyuu#kny giyuu#giyuu tomioka#demon slayer giyuu#giyuu x reader#kimetsu giyuu#giyu x reader#giyu tomioka x reader#giyuu fluff#kny giyu#kny imagines#tomioka x reader#hurt/comfort#kind of?#tw injury#kissing#hugging
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Domestic Price headcanons!! ON MY HANDS AND KNEES!!!
Domestic!Price x F!reader
WARNING MDNI (+18 ONLY)
Warnings : tooth rotting fluff, some sexual references.
Word Count: ? So many
Sorry this took me forever to write, the past month has been insane. But things are finally getting better and I’m feeling creative.
Domestic!Price isn’t someone that many are familiar with. Especially those he works with. When price joined the military he was a teen who was in the punk scene and he couldn’t hold a job for more than a month. The man was running from the cops and passed out at random houses half the week. By six pm there was liquor on his breath. His dear mom had enough one day and kicked him out. When he stumbled through the front door she had a suitcase full of his good clothes packed and handed him a small amount of cash. He told her he didn’t care and he didn’t need her. After two months of couch surfing and working odd end jobs for cash he seen something about enlisting in the military. Free housing, consistent pay and a uniform. John knew he could pick up girls easily with a uniform on, easier than his charming personality already could.
Six months later he’s in basic training regretting his decision to join. He came into basic training more out of shape than he thought. He hates reading and is having to study and sit through classes when he’s not being drilled. But by week five somehow he’s leading the class. Perfect scores on test, marksmanship skills are undeniably good, and maybe that mandatory haircut doesn’t look too bad.
He graduated top of his academy class with flying colors. Five years later price has slowed worked his way up the chain. He’s still a cocky bastard but nobody can deny his knowledge of strategies and tactics. He’s a hard ass to new guys but ensures they are well trained, after all John is a firm believer that you’re only as good as your weakest guy.
After two years of being in he realized his mom was right. So on one of his days off he showed up to his moms with flowers and sweets and apologized and thanked her for giving him the push he needed. Even if he didn’t realize it at the time.
John Price has finally got his life together. But he’s still a playboy who doesn’t see the point in setting down with a nice lady. He has time right?
Before he knows it LT John Price in his early thirties. Nobody to come home to every night actually sucks. Too much beer gives him a headache and he’s not much for parties anymore. He’s picked up a few hobbies like leather-working and fishing, but there is still a void in his life. Price is… alone.
John didn’t fear commitment, but young John didn’t see how keeping a woman by his side would benefit him then. John wishes he could go back in time and smack himself for all the times he turned down sweet kind women who wanted to settle down. He broke so many hearts, all because he thought he had time.
That’s when he starts daydreaming. Thoughts of walking through the front door and being greeted by his lover and maybe even a dog or two. Summers nights stargazing rather than slouched on the couch with a beer in hand. Having purpose, a life outside of his job. So he put the effort into making a dating profile and goes on a few dates. A few horrible dates. So he deleted the profile and slowly gave up.
Then one day you cashed into his life, well... technically he did.
Literally.
John wasn’t paying attention while backing his car out at the supermarket and backed right into your car. Your bumper was deeply scratched and your taillight cracked. You both pulled back into your parking spaces to look at the damage. Before you knew it the idiot driver that backed into you was next to you profusely apologizing. The man had tired eyes and looked defeated at his careless actions. You couldn’t deny that the idiot was incredibly handsome.
“I’m so sorry, I should have looked in my mirror and I didn’t and I-“ John rambled.
“Don’t worry, this car has more scratches than I care to count” you replied giggling.
John was clearly struggling to talk as he was distracted by your beautiful face “I completely busted that taillight. Ma’am I’m so sorry. I can get my insurance and we can get this sorted”
“Well it’s a rather old car, so I have a better proposition” you smiled watching the mountain of a man remove his beanie to rub his hair.
“What would that be” he asked.
You smirked “Well there is a cafe on the corner. You look like you could use a coffee and so could I. We go have a nice cup, sit down like old friends and chat. Look online for a taillight replacement instead of getting insurance involved”.
You pleasantly surprised John and he agreed to your idea. Firstly because he hates dealing with paperwork and secondly because this beautiful creature wanted to actually talk to him. Somehow you two just clicked.After two hours of nonstop chatting and learning about each other John received a call from work demanding him to come in on his day off. Unfortunately closing your time together.
“Well I quite enjoyed this. And if you’re comfortable with it I can install that taillight when it comes in. I would hate for you to do it yourself. And maybe after I can take you out to dinner” John said, getting a little shy with his last sentence. He was praying he didn’t misinterpret and scare you off.
“What a gentleman. I would love that” you eagerly answered. You wrote down your number for him on a napkin.
(000)-000-0000
Y/N xoxo
A broken taillight is the beginning of Domestic!Price
About a week later John arrived on your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers, a tool bag and a new taillight. He was a tad bit nervous hoping to make a good impression.
Domestic!Price is the definition of chivalry.
He opens all doors for you and is quick to lend you his coat if you show the slightest signs of a chill.
Before you know it John brings you fresh flowers every week. Your grandmother always told you the stronger the intentions the longer the flowers will last. And the flowers John brings you live for what seems like an eternity.
As much as John wants to move fast he forces himself to slow his pace. He feels the need to prove he’s the gentleman you deserve. Especially after learning about your shitty dating experiences.
Even when he brought you home from your first date he only left with a kiss. Granted it was a long passionate kiss, but just a kiss. He’d desperately wanted to tear your clothes off in that moment, but didn’t want to give off the impression that he expected it. He said goodnight and left. You were kinda shocked that you two didn’t fuck, you took an everything shower and had lingerie under your outfit. But it was actually refreshing to find a man that was satisfied with just a kiss. He wasn’t putting on an act the whole night to get lucky, he was genuinely interested in you.
His good morning texts always arrive to your phone around 5:45AM. John did warn you beforehand that he frequently is away from his phone during meetings and trainings so you never worry about him ignoring or long awaited responses.
John will wake up before you regardless of the day. He’s usually found making coffee/tea and breakfast somewhere around 08:30. He usually brings it all up to bed on a tray. Heaven forbid he lets you lift a finger this early. Every morning you both snuggle with your coffee and listen to the birds chirping outside the window.
Domestic!Price is not very good at cooking, breakfast and desserts are the only things you let him make. Mostly because he’s surprisingly good at making them. You always tell him if he leaves the military he should be a pastry chef. Price likes comfort food, hardy meals that almost make him fall asleep afterwards. He’s in denial about gaining 15 pounds since he met you. But he feels that the extra pounds are just the extra love you gave him to carry around. He had to go down a notch on his belt because he’s got a little love handle to him now. You feed him well.
Football is his thing. Price is very passionate about it but thankfully he’s calm about it, he knows you don’t do well with yelling in the house. Usually takes you to a couple games a season. You two have matching jerseys, yes he had them custom made.
He hates messy. When he first joined the military he had two roommates that never picked up after themselves, neither did he. Until one day he found a molded plate in between the couch cushions, he started to become a clean freak after that. He moved out a few months later when his roommate’s wouldn’t clean up their mess.
Nowadays Domestic!Price loves a clean home. He made a chore list for both of you. He always helps you with your chores despite you telling him to relax. He loves candles and the smell of fresh sheets. Price wasn’t very organized before he met you, thankfully you managed to get the home organized and he can find everything now.
IKEA who? Never head of her. Domestic!price likes wood working. The kitchen table, cabinets, china hutch and so much more was all hand made by price. But the most elaborate thing he’s ever made? The bed frame. It has some… flair as he called it when it was finally put together. The frame has secret pockets for rope to be tied to. Specifically so he can tie you down. And let’s not forget that makeup vanity he made you, that mirror is a lockable cabinet containing a whirlwind of things. Vibes, clamps, ropes, differently shaped dildos, paddles, you name it it’s in there. Why is there two smoke alarms in your bedroom? Well… one of the is just a cover for that ceiling hook so he can suspend you.
Domestic price doesn’t mind vanilla sex. Lots of times you two disregard the kinky objects and are just wrapped in a passionate embrace. John’s not one for staying quiet, both of you could be heard from the front door when you’re together. He will be soundproofing the room if you two decide on kids.
Speaking of kids this man has the biggest breeding kink known to man. It’s not seeing his cum dripping out of your hole that fuels the fire in his belly. It’s the sheer thought of you both sitting around the dinner table with your kids asking each other about their day. Dance recitals and little league games. Watching you being a loving parent and having everything you need. That’s what he desires out of life.
Domestic!Price craves domestic life. Where there’s no threat, no bogeyman in the closet, no sound of gunfire, there’s just you two and the home you created.
John always drives, you’re a passenger princess. If it’s a nice day he takes you out for a drive in his classic car he restored himself. Windows down while 2000’s dad rock plays. Speaking of music he likes to collect vinyls. His collection grew heavily when he started buying records that you like. He plays Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors album weekly.
Domestic!Price likes slow dancing with the lights dimmed late at night. He’s a fan of 70’s music and it’s his usual go to for dancing. His father heavily influenced his music taste.
Price doesn’t care for the term boyfriend. After about a month of you two dating he promoted himself to husband. John said boyfriend “sounds childish at our age” when you asked sweetly what that was about when he introduced himself to your coworkers. He said he wouldn’t do it again if it made you uncomfortable to which you promptly said you liked it and much preferred the idea of being his wife rather than his girlfriend. That night he started looking at rings.
He went through your jewelry taking note if you wore gold or silver more. What types of jewelry styles interested you. The man was on a mission for the perfect ring. And what doesn’t it matter if you two have only been together two months? His grandparents met and married after three months and they were the definition of true love.
And yes he did propose at only four months. It was better than you could have imagined. He planned a whole weekend getaway and you never suspected it. He had rented a private boat for you two and brought champagne and charcuterie. He proposed a toast to you two and got down on one knee. You were both crying tears of joy when you said yes.
Unlike most men who buy their significant other jewelry he doesn’t buy you stones. Pearls, he buys you pearls. Expensive ones too. There’s just something about them on your neck that drives him wild. He hasn’t made the connection but it feeds into his housewife kink. There is something about him coming home from a long day and seeing you in a dress wearing those peals and an apron. A hot meal and the table is already set. You take his coat off and asking him about his day. Perfection.
Domestic!Price doesn’t share much about work. You know what he does and the stresses. He listened to your advice and does some therapy to help deal with his stress levels and the things he’s gone through. He slowly starts thinking about transferring to a job that won’t put him in the field.
He invited the boys over for dinner and his men were quite shocked. John didn’t give them much notice or anything really other than “don’t be late”.
Gaz who showed up in a tracksuit was under the impression this was a boys night with pizza and beer was shocked to arrive at a beautiful home with a perfect garden of roses. Ghost knew of your existence quite well as price loves to talk about your cooking and how much he misses you when they deploy. Soap… well… he said some things in Gaelic that you didn’t understand but surely they were those of surprise. Soap felt like a dumbass for wearing jeans and a cutoff tee.
John met them at the door and welcomed them in. The boys were rather impressed by the decor and how cozy it looked. The men half expected the home to be bare as they never took price as one for decor. But the biggest shock to Soap and Gaz was you, a woman slightly younger than Price who was in cooking in the kitchen is a pretty dress, heels and pearls. Even though Ghost was aware of your existence he was floored at how Price could pull such a beautiful woman.
Price proudly introduced you with his are around you lower back. After pleasantries they all offered to help you finish cooking, to which you laughed and said no. Even price shook his head because he knows you have your process of cooking and don’t like extra hands because it overwhelms you. And when you brought them a tray of neatly made drinks you have sworn Soap about died. No wonder Price always comes to work in a good mood, he’s got a pretty bird like you at home.
After seeing what his captains life is like outside of work it gave him some hope, maybe it’s possible to have a stable relationship with this job. Soap made a joke about “sharing”. That was the first time Price ever thought of beating Soap into the ground. Price is too proud of the life he daydreamed about to let another man or woman come into the picture. Just the thought of losing you or your lips kissing anyone but his will send him into a spiral. You’re his world. His to love, fuck, and protect.
Domestic!Price likes to slow down when he’s not at work. Life at a slower pace is more enjoyable. He can take in the sweet moments and the sunshine. He slowly starts bringing Simon and the boys around more and they too realize this.
Domestic!price doesn’t fully understand social media. He isn’t on any, most because of his job. Plus he doesn’t like how fake people are on it. He lets you post pictures of you two together but his face is always uniquely hidden, for your own protection of course. The first picture you posted of you two was actually from your wedding. You both walked together hand in hand as he was kissing your temple. After that you received several calls and texts from old friends and distant relatives asking when did you get married? Who is he? Where did you two meet?
Speaking of yours and prices wedding domestic Price was very involved in the planning. He found the most beautiful venue and really liked picking florals. I mean this man went over budget because he wanted the most elegant and elaborate flower arrangements. If you have any cultural customs John was very adamant that your customs would be met to your specifications.
Unfortunately John’s family is a handful and wanted to plan the wedding, his mother thought it was her big day. John sat her down and had a long conversation about boundaries and respect towards his soon to be wife. She actually apologized as she didn’t realize how much she was overstepping. Your mother was shocked that John was very involved with the planning, but it made her adore him even more.
You both have relatively large families but decided to keep the guests list under sixty people. Only close family and friends. This ruffled some feathers but it made for a perfect day. John is very good at controlling his emotions but when he seen you walk down the aisle his eyes welled with tears.
Domestic!Price can’t wear his ring to work. He wanted to tattoo a ring or your name somewhere on him but still feared it could be used as easy leverage. So he has a large chest tattoo that incorporates your favorite flowers and bird. In fact he starts slowing getting tattoos about you. It’s his way of keeping you with him when he’s gone.
#john price#cod#flowerwrites#captain john price#captain john price x you#john price cod#john price x y/n#captain john price x reader#john price imagine#call of duty#john price x reader#captain johnathan price#captain price x reader#captain price x you
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Sugar, Sugar Part 1
Pairing: WandaNat x Reader
Word Count: 2.1k
Summary: After losing your job, you are desperate to come up with some money. Your best friend Kate signs you up for a sugar baby app where you meet Wanda and Natasha, who eventually become your sugar mommies.
Authors Note: I've been reading so many sugar mommy!wandanat x reader fics that I wanted to make one myself. I know the beginning is a bit rough, but I'm just trying to set everything up. I promise it will get better!!!! There will also be plenty of smut in the upcoming chapters, this is just a warning for that now. And I plan on making many parts to this. I hope you all enjoy it!
Part 2 Part 3
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” you dramatically exclaim. You drape yourself across the old and slightly musty couch in your small two person apartment. Your work uniform rides up your body a little as you lay down, which you quickly pull down, covering yourself again. You pull your right arm over your eyes, trying to block out the light and the horrible day you just had.
Your best friend and roommate Kate laughs sympathetically at your dramatics. “I know getting fired sucks but there’s tons of ways to make money.” She moves your legs and sits down next to you, placing your legs on top of her.
“Like what?”
“Well you could mow lawns, dog sit, babysit, just until you find another job,” Kate suggests.
“I guess I could but I just don’t know if that would be able to cover my bills and let alone rent.”
“Well there is another thing you can try.” The tone in Kate's voice has you sitting up, removing your arm so you can look at her.
“You remember my friend Darcy that I told you about?”
“Yeah the super rich, successful one.”
“Well when she was in college she was a sugar baby,” Kate says before she cuts herself off to scold you. “And y/n don’t give me that look just hear me out!”
“Ok fine, keep talking.”
“Well she got a whole bunch of money from it. She was able to pay off her student loans and she had some money leftover that she invested and y’know now she’s rich and super successful and hot and amazing. But that wasn’t the point.” Kate shakes her head at herself, scolding herself for getting off topic like she always does. “Anyway maybe you should try being a sugar baby.”
“I don’t know Kate.” Sure this would be a great opportunity for you, if you find someone that is, but do you really want to use your body to get money?
“You could just look and see what’s out there. You don’t have to accept any sugar daddy or sugar mommy proposals,” Kate says and you’ve got to admit that she’s got a good point.
“Ok what the hell,” you say, agreeing.
“Let me just get the sugar baby app name from Darcy and we can do this.”
A few minutes later the app is downloaded on your phone. You feel nervous but also excited. This could be a way for you to not have to worry about money, at least for a while. Maybe it would be nice to be taken care of.
“Ok it’s downloaded, let’s set it up.” The two of you create your profile and pretty soon you’re looking at sugar mommies and sugar daddies.
“What about this one?” You ask Kate. You pass her the phone, and from the look on her face you can tell that it’s a no go.
“Definitely not,” Kate says, her nose wrinkling up in disgust.
“Why not?”
“I know you, and that’s not what you want.” You have to admit she is right, you don’t really want some 50 year old with a penchant for “parading his girls around” as he called it, but you’re desperate and he is the best looking person on there so far.
You continue to scroll through the men and women, none of them really catching your eye until you see the profile of a beautiful red haired girl and an equally beautiful auburn haired girl. You would recognize their faces anywhere, Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff, the owners of the country's best security company.
“There’s no way this is real,” you say. “This has to be some sort of joke or something.” You pass her your phone and watch as her eyes go comically wide.
“There’s no way the Natasha Romanoff and the Wanda Maximoff are looking for a sugar baby,” you say. You practically scoff at the idea, but there’s still that little voice in your head that wonders if maybe the profile is real.
“There’s only one way to find out,” Kate says. She still has your phone in your hands and you watch as she types, until finally she stops.
“Katie what did you do?”
“I just messaged them,” Kate says innocently. You glance down at the message and it says, “Hi my name is y/n and I’d love to get to know you both and see if I’m what you’re looking for ;),”
“Did you have to add the wink Katie? They’re gonna think I’m like a whore or something now,” you whine.
“Oh relax you big baby. It’s fine. And besides maybe a whore is what they’re looking for,” Kate says, giving you a wink.
“Kate!” You exclaim. You lightly slap her on the arm.
“Owww y/n. You’re very feisty for such a tiny person.”
“Serves you right,” you mutter underneath your breath. The two of you continue to scroll through the app when you see a notification pop up.
Natasha and Wanda had replied to your message.
“Oh my god,” you say. You can feel yourself freaking out, even when you’re going into the texting part of the app and opening the message.
“Hi darling, we’d love to get to know you more too! We’re Natasha and Wanda, we’re both sugar mommies who are looking for a sugar baby to share. We work quite a bit, but we promise that we’ll still have time for you if things work out between us. Can’t wait to hear back from you,” the message reads. You show the message to Kate who responds with excitement.
But you can feel yourself freaking out on the inside even more now. However your doubts from earlier creep in and calm you down. There’s a big chance that this is just a catfish, but you still want to take the chance. Who wouldn’t want an opportunity to be with Natasha and Wanda?
“Help me come up with a response,” you tell the girl sitting next to you. After a few minutes of back and forth, the two of you come up with what you think is the perfect response.
“Thanks for getting back to me so quickly. I’m y/n, a sugar baby who is currently in college trying to pay off my loans. I normally have plenty of time on my hands and would be able to be around whenever you need.”
You cringe at the last part of the message, which was all Kate’s idea, but clearly it worked because a few minutes later you have a text inviting you out to get some coffee tomorrow afternoon and you say yes.
“You have to come with me though, just in case it’s like a catfish or something,” you tell your best friend.
“Of course, I’ll sit in the cafe and just text me if you need me,” Kate says reassuring you.
The next day comes too quickly and before you know it you and Kate are sitting in the cafe waiting for Natasha and Wanda. You’re sitting at a table in the back, while Kate is sitting at a table across the room from you. The minutes seem to drag on forever, making you even more anxious than you already are. Everytime the bell above the door goes off, you glance up, hoping it’s one of the girls walking through. You’re just about to lose hope when you see Natasha and Wanda walk in. They look so breathtakingly beautiful.
“Hi Y/n,” Wanda says, being the first to greet you. She towers over you as she envelopes you in a hug, which you gladly reciprocate.
“Hi,” you say back. It comes out quieter than you meant it to. You can feel your cheeks heating up, but gladly both women ignore it.
“And hi I’m Natasha,” the red haired girl says. She also towers over you, but you like that about the two women. She also envelopes you into a hug. She smells like vanilla and smoke and it gives you a sense of comfort. The three of you sit down and the two women get straight to the point.
“So as you know we’re looking for a sugar baby,” Natasha says, her voice a low tone. “We just wanted to meet with you today to go over some things and see if we’d get along,” she explains.
“Ok that sounds good,” you agree.
“Have you ever been in a dynamic like this before?”
“No I haven’t,” you say, your blush coming back. You can feel your nerves getting worse as well as you fidget with a ring on your hand.
“It’s ok to be nervous baby, we won’t bite,” Wanda leans in to tell you. She places her hand on top of yours, stopping your fidgeting. She places her hand in yours, which you gladly hold.
“That’s alright, we’re pretty new to this too. But there are a couple of things we wanted to go over today. First, when do you have class?”
“Well Tuesday and Thursday mornings I have class until 11am, but besides that my days are wide open.” This answer makes Natasha smile, which in turn makes you smile.
“What is it that you need help with?” You appreciate that Natasha is getting straight to the point, it’s doing wonders at calming your nerves.
“Mostly rent and some bills. I, uh, just lost my job and it’s been hard to stay afloat.”
“Well that won’t be a problem now that we’re here,” Natasha tells you, sending you a wink. The action sends a blush across your face, turning it a shade of pink.
"I know this isn't exactly normal," Natasha says, "But we promise if today works out, which I think it will, we'll take care of you darling." Natasha's words make you smile. Normally you were never so shy around people, but the two women next to you really bring it out in you.
“Do you have any questions for us honey?” Wanda asks.
“Yes actually. What is it exactly that I would be doing?”
“You would keep us company, go to some company functions with us, and,” Natasha says, her voice dropping low as she says the next part, “have sex with us when we want it.”
“But obviously we would work up to that part,” Wanda adds cheerfully.
“Ok,” you say, taking all of that information in. You knew going into this that sex would be on the table, but it shocks you that these two beautiful women are wanting to do it with you.
“I’m sorry if this is a weird question, but aren’t the two of you together? What exactly do you need me for?”
“Yes we’re together sweetheart, but we’re not the most compatible in the bedroom.”
“What Wanda means is that we’re both pretty dominant and we need someone submissive to fulfill our needs,” Natasha says. Wanda slaps her on her arm and lightly scolds her, making you giggle.
“I can do that,” you say, letting both of them know that you want this. The thought of being submissive for both of them stirs a longing within you. You can feel a slight dampness in your panties and you cross your legs, hoping Wanda, who is still holding your hand, doesn’t notice. But of course she does.
“You already feeling a little needy, baby?” Wanda whispers, her cockiness coming out of nowhere, but god does it turn you on. Her lips ghost on the outer shell of your ear, causing your breathing to become ragged.
“Mhm,” you manage to get out.
“You’re so cute when you’re needy. I can’t wait to see just how needy I can make you,” Wanda says. She leans away from you, but not before leaving a soft kiss on your cheek, making you go pink.
“Don’t kill the poor girl Wanda,” Natasha scolds.
“I can’t help it, she’s just so cute,” Wanda says, like you aren't there, which just turns you on even more.
“Yeah she is,” Natasha agrees.
You don’t know what to say, too absorbed in your own lust, when Natasha speaks again, snapping you out of it.
“Here are our phone numbers,” she says, slipping you a piece of paper. You take the pieces of paper and program their numbers into your phone and you give them your number and they do the same.
“We’ll text you tomorrow to work out the details and set up a contract, assuming you still want to do this?” Wanda questions.
“I do,” you reassure her.
“Then we’ll talk to you tomorrow, detka,” Wanda says. The two women get up, both hugging you goodbye. You watch the two women walk out, having forgotten that Kate was also at the cafe until she comes up to you.
“Oh my god,” Kate says.
“I know,” is all you say.
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to get two sugar mommies.”
#wandanat#wandanat x reader#marvel#mcu#wanda x reader#wanda maximoff x reader#sugar mommy!wanda#sugar mommy!natasha#scarlet witch x reader#natasha x reader#natasha romanoff x reader#black widow#black widow x reader#wanda x reader smut#natasha x reader smut
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Just a Dog Walker
Requested Here!
Pairing: Tim Bradford x grad student!dog walker!fem!reader
Summary: As Tim's dog walker, and nothing more, you grow close to him and Kojo. After protecting Kojo from a dog fight, you learn how Tim really sees you.
Warnings: dog attack, dog bite (r), fluffy ending. (Kojo is totally fine!)
Word Count: 3.5k+ words
A/N: More Kojo, what the world really needs.
“Sergeant Bradford, come to my office for a minute?” Wade asks.
“No,” Tim answers quickly. “Uh, sorry. No, sir, I can’t.”
Crossing his arms, Wade inquires, “Why not?”
A low huff is audible in Tim’s office, but Wade knows it isn’t him.
“Is yo’ dog under that desk?”
“No.”
“Let me amend the question. Is Kojo under the desk?”
Kojo barks happily, trying to push past Tim to visit Wade. Wade shakes his head, dropping his arms.
“Why is he here?”
“I’m working a double and I couldn’t leave him at home. What if he had run out of water or needed to go out?” Tim answers.
“You know, here in sunny Los Angeles, there are more people than I can count who are certified dog sitters.”
“Kojo doesn’t like strangers.”
“Just Kojo? Look, Tim, I get it, the bond between a man and his dog. But, there has to be a boundary, a separation somewhere. I’ll call Luna, she’s got friends with dogs and trusted, bonded employees who watch their dogs. Walk ‘em daily, train ‘em, do everything while you’re at work.”
“I can take care of my dog by myself.”
“Not while you’re at work, Bradford. He can stay for now, Lord knows he’s a better boy than you, but by the end of the week I want to know you’ve got someone to care for him.”
Tim grumbles, pushing his hands under the desk to pet Kojo. “I’ll take you up on Luna’s friends then.”
“She’ll call later.”
“You already asked her?”
“’Course I did. We have work to do. And, so you know, we can see Kojo’s paws under the desk. But nice try.”
“I tried, buddy,” Tim tells Kojo, passing him a treat from the container hidden in his desk drawer.
✯✯✯✯✯
Grad school is expensive, but since you don’t have the degree level you are striving for, you need a different job to get you through. Pushing 30 and being a dog walker isn’t ideal, but it’s paying the bills. One of your neighbors helped you open a business with proper insurance and licensing to care for the dogs of Los Angeles.
Most of your clients live nearby, and you do your rounds twice daily, studying and attending classes between. One of your favorite clients has a friend named Luna, who you love. She gets you jobs, helps you out constantly, and is like a mother figure to you. You are forever grateful for her. So, when she calls, you rush to answer.
“Hey, Luna!” you answer. “How are you?”
“I’m good. How are you doing? Still working on your dissertation; making progress?”
“Slow but steady, yeah. What can I do for you?”
“This is actually something I can do for you. There’s a sergeant that works with Wade; he’s got a dog and needs someone trusted to take care of his dog while he’s at work. He’s been sneaking Kojo into the station and Wade had to ask him to stop.”
“Kojo? That’s an adorable name. But, yeah, I’d be happy to meet him.”
“Awesome! His name’s Tim. I will send him your number and have Wade force him to set something up.”
“Is Tim a little rough around the edges, typical cop type?”
“Not typical, no… Just- you’ll see when you meet him. He’s great, though, deep down.”
“I’ll try to remember that. Thanks, Luna.”
“See you Friday?”
“See you Friday.”
You sit back, writing the name ‘Tim’ on your dog-walking calendar. Another client would be great for your wallet, but it seems like this sergeant will take some convincing before he hires you. This is understandable, of course, because you wouldn’t let just anyone take care of your babies, and dogs are just four-legged babies.
“Please be as great as Luna said,” you whisper before returning your attention to the research before you.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Yeah, I texted her. We’re meeting at an outdoor café tonight,” Tim says before Wade can ask. “But if I don’t like her or if Kojo doesn’t like her, I’m going to keep looking.”
“Got it,” Wade answers. “But you’ve got more double shifts in your future, so don’t take too long trying to find a ‘perfect’ dog walker.”
Tim nods, hoping he can find a way out of letting a stranger into his house to take care of his dog. He checked your name, and your business seems legitimate, but there’s no way of knowing. Luckily, he and Kojo are both excellent judges of character.
✯✯✯✯✯
Luna sent you a picture of Kojo, and you spot him immediately. The man sitting beside him, though, is breathtakingly handsome. You’re shocked that he doesn’t have female neighbors and friends lining up at his door, offering to take care of Kojo (and him).
“Hi, Mr. Bradford?” you ask.
Kojo looks up at you and pants, his tail slapping against Tim’s leg.
“Yes. Nice to meet you,” Tim replies, offering his hand.
Shaking his hand, you glance down at Kojo. When Tim releases his grip, you squat and extend your hand for Kojo to sniff. He flips your hand up with his snout, stepping closer to you.
“I’m sure Luna told you that I’m a cop,” Tim continues, drawing your attention away from Kojo.
You sit beside him, lowering a hand to pat Kojo’s head. “She did, sir.”
“Then you know that if anything were to happen to my house during or after your visit, I could very easily charge you with any number of crimes. And I won’t tell you what I would do if something happened to Kojo while under your care.”
You can’t tell if his threat is legitimate, so you nod in understanding.
“Yes, sir, I understand. Kojo’s safety, and your home, of course, are of the utmost importance and I will do everything I can to do right by both of you.”
Tim nods, watching Kojo for a moment. “You’re good with him. He’s not always so welcoming with strangers; scared one of my girlfriends away once. So, I’m going to give you a chance.”
“Amazing. Thank you, sir. I promise you won’t regret it.”
“What do we need to do to get started?”
“I can offer you a few days free, as a trial run. And if you still want to keep me on afterward, we can discuss payment, sir.”
“That’s unnecessary. I need someone to take care of Kojo and you seem to be the best fit.”
“Okay. Then I will email you a link to create a client account and my website has a portal to pay. Luna mentioned that you work overnight sometimes, so if you needed me to do later or earlier visits, I can do that too, sir.”
“Sounds good.”
Tim stands, wiping his hand on his jeans before offering his hand again.
“Nice to meet you and I look forward to your email.”
“You, too. And thank you.”
Petting Kojo once more, you smile before walking away. You didn’t expect him to be so attractive, so you have to remember that he clarified you’re his dogwalker, and he doesn’t even really want a dogwalker.
Determined to make him see the benefits of someone caring for Kojo, you add him to your schedule before he even pays you. Money is no longer a concern; you’re already in love with Kojo, and now, you need to focus on not falling for his owner, too.
✯✯✯✯✯
“What’d you think about her? I know you hired her, but what’d you think personally?” Luna asks, standing in Wade’s office.
Tim shrugs. “She’s very polite. Seems driven, hard-working, responsible.”
“Well, now that you’ve read her resumé, have anything else to add?”
Tim doesn’t answer, and Wade guesses, “She makes you nervous?”
“A little.”
“What?” Luna exclaims. “She’s the sweetest!”
“Not like that, Luna,” Wade interjects. “Someone wasn’t expecting a pretty dog walker.”
“Oh. Tim Bradford, I wasn’t sure you still had it in you.”
“She is taking care of Kojo. Yes, she is beautiful, but this won’t go any farther than a business agreement.”
“Care to bet on that?” Wade asks.
“No,” Tim answers before leaving and closing the door behind him.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Hey, Kojo, Kojo,” you call, entering Tim’s house with the key he had made for you.
Kojo’s nails click on the flooring, rushing to greet you.
“Hey, buddy. You miss your dad? I bet you do.”
As you slide Kojo’s harness over his front legs, he licks your face, and you laugh, scratching his chest before standing to connect his leash. Kojo has quickly become your favorite dog. You visit several throughout the day, but Kojo is the sweetest and the most handsome.
When you return to Tim’s side door, it’s standing open. You know that you closed and locked it, so you pull Kojo’s leash tight, stepping back as you prepare to run.
“It’s just me!” Tim yells from inside. “Sorry, my hands were full, and I couldn’t close the door.”
Sighing in relief, you lead Kojo inside, closing the door behind you and locking it instinctually.
“Honey, we’re home!” you call.
Tim freezes in the kitchen at your teasing, borderline flirtatious tone. You remove Kojo’s leash and harness and put it away, following him as he runs toward Tim.
“Why are you home so early?” you ask.
“I worked all night,” Tim answers. “Thought you’d feel my absence through our connection.”
You chuckle at Tim’s flirting. After the second meeting, it became much easier to talk to him. Interestingly enough, Tim started the flirtatious tendencies. You tend to stick to business-related topics, but sometimes it feels like you’re just two friends – maybe more – and you forget you’re just his dog walker.
“Everything go okay at work, sir? Kojo, for one, had a great day.”
Tim says your name, a sigh more than anything. “I told you a week ago to stop calling me sir.”
“Sorry, sir- Tim.”
Tim looks away suddenly, turning his attention to the bags he carried inside while you were walking Kojo.
“Did you even wonder where Kojo was?” you ask.
“No. I know his dog walker is punctual… and a control freak.”
“Planning my day doesn’t make me a control freak!”
“You have it planned to the minute.”
“To accommodate you,” you grumble.
“Yet you won’t let me take you on a date.”
“You won’t ask.”
You fall silent, and when you think you took it too far, Kojo barks and makes you both laugh. Talking to Tim is easy, but no matter how much you love Kojo or think you could be more, you must keep everything in perspective. Tim is older, a police sergeant, and you are his college student dog walker.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Hello?” you ask, answering your phone and rubbing your eyes as you look away from the computer screen.
“Hey,” Tim says. “I’m so sorry for the late notice but I’m going to be here overnight. Could you-“
“I’ll go over now.”
“Listen, it’s crazy out there right now. If you want to stay there, please do. I don’t want you out more than you have to be.”
“Tim, that’s not necessary.”
“Please. It’s not just for your safety; I’ll feel better knowing that you’re somewhere safe.”
“Okay,” you reply. “As long as you’re sure.”
“I’m insisting. Kojo is a cuddler, but that’s all you have to fear there.”
“Oh, you should have started with that. Kojo cuddles sound amazing.”
“Long day?”
“Not as long as yours. I’ll text you when I get there. Thank you, Tim.”
“Thank you. I’ll be back in the morning.”
“See you then.”
The drive to Tim’s house is short, but you hear several police sirens. Whatever they’re dealing with does seem (as Tim put it) crazy. Once you’re inside and the alarm is reset, you collapse on the couch and let Kojo cuddle up to you. You feel weirdly close to Tim, too, probably from being in his house. Falling asleep here is easy; you’re at peace, happy, and cuddled by a warm, loving dog.
✯✯✯✯✯
Waking up is not quite as peaceful. Tim is taking a picture, and when you grunt, he lowers the phone and smiles.
“That’s adorable,” he states.
“I’m quitting,” you murmur, throwing an arm over Kojo.
“You know, he didn’t even come see me when I got home? He’s a cheater, although I can’t blame him. It does look pretty comfortable.”
Ignoring him, you move closer to Kojo.
“Consider this my two hours’ notice.”
Tim chuckles, and the couch dips by your feet as he sits. When you sit up, he’s leaning back with his eyes closed.
“Are you okay?” you ask.
“Yeah, just tired.”
“Well, I’ll get out of your way so you can rest. Need me to come back later?”
“No, I’m here all day. If you want to stay, you can.”
“I have a paper to finish,” you lament. “But I appreciate it.”
“Anytime.” You’re gathering your things when Tim reiterates, “Seriously. You’re always welcome here.”
“Thank you. I’ll see you later.”
“Drive safe.”
✯✯✯✯✯
It’s cloudy in Los Angeles, like a bad omen. So, you’re seriously considering taking Tim’s previous offer of staying at his house to work. Kojo is the last dog you visit, and you look down at him as he sniffs the base of a streetlight.
“Mind if I stay with you for the rest of the day?” you ask him.
Kojo’s tail wags faster, but he’s still more interested in the light than you.
“Sounds like a plan.”
Kojo picks his head up, continuing toward the corner as you lead him down the sidewalk. You see something move up the road and command Kojo to stop. Unsure if it’s a dog or some other animal, you wait a moment before walking again.
With your attention on the unknown shadow before you, you fail to hear a dog running up behind you. Kojo turns suddenly, and you don’t register what’s happening as you push him out of the way.
Another dog, about Kojo’s size, with no leash or owner in sight, is on top of you. Kojo is barking, trying to help, but you yell at him to stay back.
“Kojo, sit!” you yell over the other dog’s growling.
Your yell turns to a cry of pain when the dog’s jaw clamps down on your arm, his claws digging into your side.
“Get off!” you yell, your adrenaline giving you the strength to push back.
Once you’re sitting up, you use your legs to free yourself from the dog’s grip. Kojo is behind you, unharmed, and you need to keep it that way. Flipping yourself on top of the dog, it releases your arm before moving its legs wildly, raking a paw across your face as it tries to move away.
“Go!” you yell harshly, moving enough to let it up.
Stomping your foot after it, you show the dog you’re in charge and wait in front of Kojo until it’s out of sight.
“Kojo, we have to go,” you say quickly, grabbing his leash and limping behind him as he leads you home.
Kojo focuses on getting you inside, and when you close the door and fall to the floor, he moves to your side. He whimpers, and you want to comfort him, but you are growing dizzy.
“You okay, boy?” you mumble.
You scream in pain when you raise your hand to check that Kojo is okay. After dropping your arm, your breathing grows shallow as tears stream down your face. Kojo whines again, and you want to reach for your phone, but your arms feel too heavy to move. Looking down, you suddenly realize the severity of what happened. Covered in blood and with no strength to call for help, you whisper an apology to Kojo and let your eyes drift close.
✯✯✯✯✯
Tim sighs as he turns onto his street. He’s ready to see Kojo and, if he’s lucky, you. When Tim sees your car in the driveway, he smiles and rushes toward the door. That happiness quickly disappears when he notices the trail of blood leading up the driveway. Walking to the sidewalk, he sees that it leads nearly to the corner. Racing to the backdoor, which has a large blood smear below a clear handprint, Tim keeps a hand on his gun as he unlocks the door.
Kojo’s whimpering greets Tim, and when he looks down, he sees that Kojo has blood on him. Kojo looks over quickly, and Tim follows his movement. Whatever fear he felt when he saw the blood on Kojo is multiplied when he sees you.
Pulling his phone from his pocket, Tim calls for an ambulance before kneeling beside you.
“Is Kojo okay?” you ask weakly.
“He’s okay,” Tim promises, leaning closer in a poor attempt to find the source of your blood. “What hurts?”
“What doesn’t? Did you check on Kojo? He seemed okay but I couldn’t make sure the blood was mine.”
Tim turns, running his hands all over Kojo. The blood is only on his fur, evidently not his.
“He’s fine,” Tim repeats, his voice breaking at the end. “You are not.”
“There was a dog free running and I- I didn’t see it. Kojo stayed behind me so I need him to be okay.”
Tears are running down your face again, mixing with the blood. Tim wants to wipe them away, but the clear claw mark over your cheek deters him.
“There’s an ambulance on the way, you’re going to be okay.”
“I’m sorry, Tim.”
“Don’t you dare apologize. Just stay awake.”
“Kojo- Kojo’s a good boy,” you mumble.
“He is. Can you please keep your eyes on me? The ambulance is almost here.”
You nod, and the last thing you remember is Tim’s apologetic look and a painful pressure on your side.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Tim, are you coming with?” Bailey asks.
Tim stares at the bloodstain on his floor and up his wall rather than looking toward her. “I’ll be there soon.”
“We’ll keep you updated. She’ll be okay.”
Tim nods and waits for the EMTs to exit the house before he begins cleaning. He scrubs until every trace of your blood is erased from inside and on the door. After animal control captured the dog, several officers went out to find the dog's owner. Nolan promised to come by and clean the driveway, so Tim concentrated his efforts inside.
“Alright, Kojo, our turn,” Tim calls, letting Kojo into the bathroom to remove the blood from his fur.
After Tim cleans Kojo and himself and throws away the blood-stained rags and cleaning supplies, he gathers his things to visit you in the hospital.
“I’ll be back with our girl,” Tim promises Kojo as he leaves.
✯✯✯✯✯
“I’m sorry.” You can’t stop the apology when Tim walks in.
“Stop apologizing. You kept that dog away from Kojo and I don’t- I can’t lose you. I walked in and you were covered in blood… I should have told you before that I care about you.”
“It’s my job to take care of Kojo,” you whisper.
Tim moves to the side of the bed, gently taking your hand. “You are not just a dog walker. I’ve been falling for you since the moment I laid eyes on you. The fact that you love Kojo solidified it for me.”
“I- I have feelings for you too,” you admit.
“They told me your pretty face won’t scar.”
“I barely even remember what happened.”
Tim sits beside your legs as he tells you, “Nolan and Celina arrested the dog’s owner. It wasn’t the first time he had done this.”
“Given a poor, unsuspecting college student thirty stitches while she’s just trying to spend the afternoon in her crush’s house? Oddly specific crime. What’s the code for that?”
Tim chuckles, gently squeezing your hand. “You can go home now. If you’re still up to spend some time in your crush’s house.”
“Tim-“
“Don’t tell me I don’t have to. I want to, need to.”
“I would love to spend time with you and Kojo. But I’m not sure I’m up for flirting today, handsome.”
“After the day you’ve had, just sit back and I’ll do all the flirting.”
“’Preciate that, sir.”
Tim laughs as he exits the room to complete your discharge paperwork. You smile behind him, hoping you’re not dreaming, and you finally told him how you feel.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Kojo,” Tim chides. “Give her some room.”
“You cleaned all the blood?”
Tim gently directs your eyes to him, leaning close to remind you, “You’re more than just a dog walker. Worth the time, the effort, the love, all of it.”
“Love?”
“Yeah. Kojo really loves you.”
You laugh, quickly remembering that you have several stitches on your side.
“Careful,” Tim requests.
“Are you certified to help someone sit still while stitches hold their side closed?” you ask.
“Depends on the patient. You? Absolutely.”
Tim helps you get comfortable on the couch before walking to the kitchen to gather some water and snacks. When he returns, Kojo is cuddled up to your uninjured side.
“Really? Again?” Tim asks.
“I love you,” you say, completely distracting Tim as he kneels before you. “But I also think I really want to quit this time.”
Tim laughs, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “That’s fine. I am looking for a girlfriend rather than a dog walker now anyway.”
“Care to see my resumé?”
“Memorized it last time.”
#tim bradford x reader#kojo bradford#tim bradford fluff#tim bradford the rookie#tim bradford imagine#tim bradford#the rookie#requests#fem!reader#tw dog attack#tw dog bite#kojo bradford. cutie pie extraordinaire.
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Dog days are over
Pairing: Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!Reader
Summary: Elizabeth isn’t a dog person… but you are. After the puppy interview, you try to convince your girlfriend to take one of them home.
Disclaimer: English is not my first language. It was inspired by the iconic puppy interview, obviously, but I changed the questions to fit the plot.
MASTERLIST
“Oh, my God,” you uttered at yourself under your breath, immediately bringing a hand to cover your mouth and stop a laugh from escaping as you watched the scene unfold in front of the cameras.
You were sitting behind the expensive equipment among the technical team while you all watched your girlfriend, Elizabeth, sitting in the middle of the room with several puppies surrounding her as she tried to answer the questions being thrown her way. It had been complete havoc since the start, something you had predicted when Elizabeth first told you she agreed with that interview - an internet success, which you had watched many other actors doing it before. However, Elizabeth kept her distance from most animals and you were waiting for the chaos that was going on right now.
What you didn’t expect was that a black puppy would jump to try to bite her hair and just fall on her chest, causing Elizabeth to squeak before she could stop herself. You had to hold your laugh the best you could so you wouldn’t disturb the recording, but you almost slipped when you saw your girlfriend trying to cover up her reaction by laughing and awkwardly scooping the puppy into her arms. You usually didn’t tag along to her interviews - especially because sitting behind the camera all day was boring as hell - but Elizabeth had asked you if you wanted to go with her and you didn’t think twice before saying yes. The reason? That scene right there. A slightly panicked Elizabeth holding an overly excited puppy who was waggling his tail and trying to lick her face.
Well, the fact that there were going to be cute puppies also convinced you to be there.
Elizabeth might not be used to being around animals like that, but you grew up surrounded by them. Since you were a small child, your family had a dog, which ended up coming home pregnant one day and the house was suddenly filled with eight other puppies. Your mother managed to give two of them to other family members before you started crying and screaming saying you didn’t want them to go, and that has been it. You grew up surrounded by dogs. When you left for college, you couldn’t adopt any dog since they took so much time, but you entered your dorm one day and found a black cat sitting on top of your computer, and that’s how you ended up with a new pet. The cat, unfortunately, was already a bit old and he ended up passing away a couple of years after you left college.
Since then, you hadn’t gotten any other pets because you lived in an apartment and had a demanding job that kept you away most of the time, but you loved going back to your parents’ house because they still had many dogs and some other animals - your father still hadn’t explained how they ended up with a tortoise, but you were fine with it.
So, yes, you were having the time of your life.
“Are you a cat person?” The question made by one of the interviewers brought your attention back to the scene in front of you.
When Elizabeth quickly replied with a short “nope” you laughed before you could stop yourself, but luckily you weren’t the only one since everyone else in the room shared the feeling. It also made Elizabeth laugh while she looked around at everyone else and struggled to get the black puppy with the blue collar out of her lap at the same time. Her eyes met yours for a brief second, something that made you smile softly even if you could see the silent ask for help behind her green eyes.
“Is it obvious I’m not a dog person?” Elizabeth wondered out loud with another laugh. “The way you said that like ‘so are you an any kind of animal person?’” She said, trying to sound like the woman asking her the questions. “Are you a bunny person?” She joked in the end, which only made everyone laugh again.
The dog in her lap finally gave up trying to lick her face and ran away to play with his little friends, and you saw how Elizabeth visibly relaxed, having a small break from the cute attackers for once. You were still smiling at her, unable to believe how cute your girlfriend was, when you felt something touching your feet. You looked down and saw that one of the puppies had run into you while playing with a toy and you didn’t think twice before leaning down to pet the cute dog. That was the puppy that seemed the most excited about Elizabeth since the beginning, jumping into her as soon as they saw her, and you received the same treatment as her. That made you smile even more widely and your eyes raised for a moment to see how your girlfriend was holding up before grabbing the toy from the floor to toss it away for the dog to chase.
You could have tossed it to the other side, you could have. Instead, you tossed it right on Elizabeth’s feet and then watched the puppy skid with the little paws to reach the toy. Elizabeth was answering a question you hadn’t heard, her attention away from the dogs, so when the puppy jumped on her again she yelped even louder than before in surprise at the sudden attack.
“Oh, God!”
You bit the inside of your cheek to hold another laugh, but you saw someone giving you a thumbs up for helping in getting that scene. You weren’t sure if your girlfriend realized it had been you who threw the toy at her, although you were praying she didn’t.
“I don’t have a dog,” you heard Elizabeth commenting with an awkward laugh when another puppy tried to get into her lap. She tried to move the first one, but he wasn’t having it, so she reached out for the toy to squeeze it. It was, obviously, the wrong choice because that only made all of the puppies rush to her to try to take it. “Okay, okay, okay…” She repeated the same word countless times while trying to dodge all of the dogs jumping on her and, finally, she threw the toy away, which made all of the puppies run away to get it. “I don’t remember what was the question.”
“You were telling us what are your hobbies,” the interviewer reminded her.
“Oh, yes.” Elizabeth nodded and opened her mouth to reply, only to be jumped by the puppy with the red collar again. She tried to move out of the way, but that only made the dog fall with his paws almost inside of her shirt. “You like the inside of my shirt, I see. You would get along with my girlfriend just fine.”
The laugh that resonated around the room was the loudest it has been since the start of the interview and, even if you were one of the people laughing, you still tried to make yourself look smaller in your chair when everyone turned to look at you. You felt yourself blush and you met Elizabeth’s gaze again just to shake your head at her little joke, but she just laughed and then had to avoid another jumping puppy from hitting her face.
“Since you talked about her,” the interviewer started, “can you tell us about how things are going? You recently moved in together, yes?”
“We did,” your girlfriend replied with a more contained smile. Elizabeth didn’t have a problem talking about you during her interviews - she knew it was going to happen when you both decided to go public about your relationship - but she tried to avoid giving out many details and always tried to change the subject as fast as she could. “People always say we only know who someone really is when you have to share a house with them,” she joked. “But things are going great. Aside from the occasional wet towel on the bed, there hasn’t been any trouble.”
The interview continued after that with the same level of chaos. The dogs kept jumping on her or running around like crazy, there was a poop incident and even a moment where you were sure Elizabeth was regretting putting herself in that situation, but she managed to answer the questions and all the dogs - and Elizabeth - were alive in the end, which you counted as a victory.
Once the questions were over, someone asked Elizabeth to stay in her spot for just a few more minutes while they collected the dogs to take them away again. You had gotten up from your chair since you felt like you needed to stretch a little bit and you were about to pull out your phone to check the time when you saw three of the puppies running towards you while fighting over a toy. Without thinking twice, you sat down on the floor and quickly reached for the toy.
“Hey, now, don’t fight!” You said. They all started to jump to try to get it from you and you felt your legs and arms being scratched with their little sharp nails, but you didn’t mind. It wasn’t their fault and, honestly, you were almost used to that. “Play nice, kiddos,” you asked before throwing the toy away.
To your surprise, not all the puppies rushed to get it. The black puppy with the red collar, that had been among them, decided he wanted to climb your lap instead and that’s what the dog did with his wobbly legs and waggling tail. You laughed happily as you decided to help him by picking him up and pressing him against your chest while you brought your other hand to scratch behind his ear.
“You’re so cute,” you cooed before pressing a kiss on top of his head. In return, the puppy raised his head to lick your chin and you let him do it. “Do you like me? I also like you, boy.” As soon as you said that, though, you paused and picked him up with both hands so you could hold him in front of your face. “Wait, are you a boy?” You turned him a bit to take a look and gasped when you put the dog back against your chest. “You’re a girl! No wonder you were trying to look at Lizzie’s chest!” You declared while trying not to squeeze the dog too much. “I don’t blame you at all for that!”
No one would be able to tell if you were joking or not since you were being so serious while saying that, but thankfully everyone was too busy trying to pick up the running dogs or putting the equipment away before the wires got chewed or something. You didn’t move from where you were sitting playing with the cute puppy and letting her lick your hands and face while all the other dogs were picked one by one to be taken away. You could already feel your chest tighten with the prospect of letting the black puppy go as well, even if it sounded crazy that you had gotten attached to her so fast.
Since you were too busy cuddling the dog, you missed when Elizabeth got up and walked towards you, getting startled when her voice sounded just by your side. “Why is he so calm with you when he was trying to murder me a second ago?”
You looked up and your lips quickly curled in a smile when you saw Elizabeth standing there with her hands on her hips while trying to pretend to be mad. “She wasn’t trying to kill you, babe,” you defended the dog. “She was trying to show you love!”
“That’s some aggressive love,” Elizabeth scoffed.
You laughed. “Yes, because she’s a puppy. She has too much energy. They get calmer when they get older.” Just as you said that, you raised the dog to your eye level again and kissed its snout. “Right, little princess? With a few walks and a lot of plays, you will grow up to be a lazy dog.”
As if she could understand you, the dog barked and tried to lick you again. You cooed and hugged her, but, before you could say anything else, a man approached you while chasing another puppy. You decided to help him out by reaching out with your arm to stop the puppy from running past you, but you still didn’t let go of the dog in your lap.
“Thank you,” the man said as he leaned down to scoop the dog.
“Of course,” you replied before you saw another person bringing a cage. “Where are these cuties from?” You wondered when curiosity got the best of you.
“From a shelter, ma’am,” the first man answered.
“Oh, so they don’t have a family?”
“No, ma’am. Their first event will be this weekend. The shelter organizes a fair to try to find their animals some owners.”
You made up your mind before the man was even done talking. You knew it was insane to even think about it, but you couldn’t help. The puppy in your arms had already won your heart, you couldn’t deny it. Besides, you have been working from home since you got a new job and you certainly had the money to take care of a pet. It could work out perfectly.
Elizabeth seemed like she had read your mind because, when you slowly turned your head to look back at her, she was already shaking her head. “Absolutely not.”
“Lizzie,” you tried to call out her nickname to soften her heart - exactly how you did it every time you were trying to get her to agree with something.
“No, Y/N.” Elizabeth kept her ground, firmly letting you know it was not going to happen. “We’re not taking a dog home with us.”
“But it’s not just a dog,” you complained while raising the puppy for her to see the cute little face. “It’s this little princess.”
“No,” she insisted. “No dogs. No little princess who tried to kill me either.”
“She didn’t try to kill you, I told you that,” you argued and then, because you could feel you were going to lose the argument, you went for your last weapon. A pout. “I promise you I will take care of her, you don’t even have to do anything! I will keep her fed and change the water, and take her for walks, and take her to the vet, all of it.”
“That’s not the problem, Y/N.” Elizabeth sighed. “I’m thinking about all of the mess. And the smell.” She added the last part while throwing a glance at the place where the puppies had pooped before, her nose scrunching adorably when she remembered the awful smell. “Look, I know you like animals, but we’re not getting a dog.”
“Lizzie,” you tried one more time, putting the dog down and pouting as well. It was now or never. “Pretty please? She won’t even get that big and we have so much space around the pool where she could run and play. We don’t need to let her go inside the house even.” Which you know was a little lie since you wouldn’t be able to keep the dog outside, but that was a problem you could solve later. “And I know you like animals, you just don’t… have much practice.”
“And I intend to keep that way.”
You sighed sadly at that and looked down at the dog who had gone oddly quiet during all of that conversation, as if she knew she shouldn’t interrupt. With a sniff, you leaned down to kiss the dog’s head before you let your cheek rest there. It was like saying goodbye to someone from your family.
“Oh, no, are you crying?” Elizabeth now sounded completely in panic, but you had your own emotions to deal with. You just shook your head, clearly lying since you could barely see anything after tears formed in your eyes, but you also didn’t want to seem stupid crying over it either. “No, my love, please don’t cry.” Elizabeth crouched in front of you and you briefly saw her wide green eyes staring at you like she had no idea what to do. “You can get a fish! What about that?”
“Okay,” you mumbled with a trembling voice without looking at her. You didn’t want a fish, although you couldn’t get enough energy to explain that to her. Besides, the lump in your throat wouldn’t allow you to form a phrase anyway.
“My love, please don’t be upset,” your girlfriend tried again, sadly this time. “I don’t like when you’re upset.” All you did was shrug. “I love you so much, my love, but-”
Before she could finish her explanation, the dog in your lap wailed so miserably that it made you hug her tighter and look at Elizabeth again.
Ironically, that’s what broke her.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and pinched her nose for a few seconds before she shook her head to herself. “I can’t believe I’m about to do this,” she whispered while staring at the ceiling above you and then she finally let out a sigh and looked at you. “Okay, fine, you can have the dog.”
“Oh, my God! Really?!” You didn’t wait for her confirmation. You just threw yourself at her, almost taking both of you to the ground, and started spreading kisses all over her face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…” you kept repeating it non-stop.
“Okay, okay.” She pushed you away when it became clear you wouldn’t stop anytime soon, just to raise her index finger while she started listing some rules that you both knew would eventually be broken. “The dog must stay outside, you will take full responsibility for it, you will have to figure out what to do when we decide to travel together, and the dog is gone if she ever causes a single leaf from my garden to break.” Then, Elizabeth turned her attention to the dog, pointing at the puppy and raising her eyebrows. “And I mean it.”
“Did you hear that, pup?” You asked the dog while pointedly ignoring what Elizabeth said. “You’re going home with us!”
The dog picked up on your happiness and started to jump in your arms while trying to lick both of you, but Elizabeth quickly moved away and got up. “God, it has been a second and I’m already regretting it.” Just when you were about to get worried she might change her mind, Elizabeth added: “Wait here, I will see what we need to do to take the dog home.”
“Wait, Lizzie,” you called her before she could take another step away and she turned around at you in expectation. “Come here.” She rolled her eyes, but did as you asked. “Closer.” Again. “Closer.”
“Only if I climb in your lap, but my seat has been taken.” Elizabeth glared at the dog, but you could see she didn’t mean anything by it.
You chuckled and raised your chin. Once again, your girlfriend rolled her eyes although she leaned down to give you a kiss. “I love you,” you whispered when she pulled away.
“You better,” Elizabeth replied with a huff.
“Really, I love you so much.” You pecked her lips one more time.
She sighed and kissed your forehead. “I love you too, my love.”
Elizabeth had just started to leave again when you asked: “Can we call her Wanda?”
“Don’t make me change my mind,” was the reply you got even if she didn’t even turn around to say it.
You only laughed and hugged the puppy again. You could convince her about the name too.
#elizabeth olsen#elizabeth olsen x you#elizabeth olsen x reader#celebrity x reader#marvel#scarlet witch#wanda maximoff#fanfic#creative writing#my writing#drabble#fluff#puppy interview
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Autumn in New York
main masterlist || kate bishop || autumn fic list
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ pairing: kate bishop x reader
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ warnings: mentions of depression, lots of flufffff
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ description: kate has been noticing a change in your mood. in order to help cheer you up, she takes you out on a date day to explore New York in all of its beauty
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 1.9k
Between the sun setting earlier in the evening and the cold fronts coming in quick, your seasonal depression was taking over. Though summer could be a little too hot for you at times, you found your mood to be changing with each passing day.
Your bed started to become your best friend and Lucky felt your pain, as he looked to have gained a pound or two. It didn’t help that he always joined you in your activities, even if they consisted of eating your favorite treats while watching ‘New Girl’ in the dark.
To top it all off, your job made it all too easy to stay home. While most days you taxied to work in person, you have been taking advantage of the fact you have the option to work from home. Lately, there has been a lot more home and a lot less work.
It was just another day and you heard the door downstairs open and close, indicating that Kate was home. You were asleep when she had left, so you were not sure exactly when she had left. Since Kate was in the process of moving up in Bishop Security, she was gone at odd hours of the day. You could consider it being on call.
“Babe, I’m home!” Kate yelled through the house.
You always felt guilty for going through spells of depression, even though you knew you couldn’t help it. It didn’t take away from the fact that you felt useless and lazy, especially when you could see how hard Kate was working.
“There you are,” Kate said, acting surprised as if you hadn’t been in bed for three days. “You’re up early.”
“Am I?” you questioned. You hadn’t even thought to look at the clock.
“It’s about eight in the morning, the day is still young,” she smiled. “Speaking of…”
Kate trailed off a bit and you could tell in her voice that she was about to suggest something that you may love or hate. Most ideas lately you resented the thought of.
“When I was coming home, I was thinking that it would be nice to have a little date day?” Kate suggested lightly, knowing that it could be a long shot. “I know things have been a little bit tough lately and I want to treat you.”
She waited for your response, whether that was verbal or physical. You weren’t turned off by the idea, but nothing sounded better than staying home.
“Please?” Kate said with a pouty face.
“Are you begging now?” you asked.
“Maybe,” Kate giggled. She came over and sat on your side of the bed, looking at you closer now. That’s when the puppy dog eyes began.
“Now that’s not fair,” you whined. “You know how I feel when you do that.”
“That’s exactly why I’m doing it,” Kate smiled.
She stared longer and longer until you said “yes,” with a reluctant groan.
“That’s what I like to hear!” Seeing the excitement on Kate’s face made it worth it for you. You could tell your sadness had affected her too, whether or not she would admit it.
“What are we going to do?”
“That’s the best part, it’s a surprise,” Kate grinned from behind the closet door that she rushed to in order to find clothes for you. “It’s chilly today so you need to wear your nice coat.”
You groaned and flopped down on the bed. “But I hate that coat, it makes me all itchy.”
“I know honey, but it’s the only way you will stay warm, I promise. And that’s coming from me.” Kate was never one to wear thick clothing or layers, usually one coat would suffice.
Kate laid everything out nicely for you and helped you get ready as fast as you could. She was anxious for the both of you to leave the house and spend the day together, something that rarely happened.
Once you were carefully bundled, Kate practically dragged you and Lucky both out of the apartment and into the bustling city.
“Okay, first things first, we need caffeine,” Kate declared.
You already knew where she was taking you because you always went to the same coffee shop close to the apartment. It was also the place that you and Kate had your first date, making it special each time you went.
“You wanna hold onto Lucky and I can go in and order for us?” Kate asked and you agreed.
You didn’t want to admit it yet, but being outside felt amazing. With each passing minute there was a part of you that felt rejuvenated. The temperature was perfect for you, making it cozy but not unbearable. The chilly wind pierced your skin and gave you the wake up call you had been begging for.
After a few minutes, Kate came back out to join you. “Your usual, dear.” She handed you the warm cup and you shivered. The warmth from your drink gave you even more motivation to enjoy the day together.
You walked several blocks with Kate leading the way before you dared to ask where you were going. “So, where are you taking me?”
“I see what you’re trying to do,” she said. “I’m not telling you, but nice try.”
You groaned and walked on. The farther you walked down the street the more crowded it became with both people and dogs. Up ahead, you could now see groups of people blocking the road and you assumed you were headed that way as well.
Kate took your hand now, comforting you as you both moved through the sea of people. When you made it towards the front, you could see now what Kate was taking you to see.
“Is this the Halloween Dog Parade?” you asked excitedly.
“Are you surprised?!” Kate said with glee.
“Are you kidding me? Of course I am!”
The annual dog parade was an event you always wanted to attend each year, but something always got in the way. This year, you hadn’t even given it a thought, but your girlfriend remembered. She always remembered.
You watched as dogs of all kinds walked down the street dressed in everything from food to movie characters. Your personal favorite was the little dog dressed as Bob from ‘Beetlejuice.’
As the parade wrapped up, you couldn’t keep the smile off your face. You couldn’t remember the last time you were this happy. Whether it was the energy in the city, the autumn feeling, or the sheer fact you were finally spending quality time with your girlfriend, there was no stopping your light from shining.
“Onto the next adventure,” Kate said. She grabbed your hand once again and pulled you in another direction.
“You should have warned me we would be doing this much walking, or else maybe I would have worn different shoes,” you said uncomfortably while moving your feet around in your shoes.
“I’m sorry, babe.” Kate genuinely seemed upset, which made you feel bad for ever complaining in the first place. “We can go back and you can grab some different shoes?”
“I’m afraid if we go back we may not leave again,” you laughed. “Let’s keep going!”
The look on your face was enough to make Kate’s life. She was so grateful for your happiness that she hadn’t seen for several weeks. You walked several more blocks until you had reached Central Park.
“It’s so beautiful,” you sighed.
Taking a break from the concrete buildings seemed to be all the medicine you needed. You looked into the park and saw a flood or orange and red leafed trees. You had spent so much time looking down that you were reminded to finally look up.
There were families running through the grass and dogs playing happily through the leaves. In addition, the amount of food vendors made your stomach growl, not realizing how hungry you were.
Kate looked at you after the noise from your stomach caught her off guard. “I guess that’s a sign it’s time to eat,” Kate laughed. “My vote is a good old fashioned New York hot dog.”
“I raise you a soft pretzel and cheese,” you rebutted with a smiling scowl.
“Hmm,” Kate thought. “You have a deal!”
You laughed and wrapped your arms around her waist while she placed her arm around your shoulders. You walked together through the park until you made it to the pretzel stand. You each got your own to snack on while you strolled through the park.
You switched from holding hands, linking arms, and holding each other while you walked. You weren’t always someone who enjoyed PDA, but you were proud to be with Kate Bishop.
There were so many beautiful things. From the way the wind ran through the leaves to make them fall delicately on the ground to form piles for the children to play in, to the view on your left of Kate guiding you through the park on the most perfect day.
You hadn’t realized how much you needed this day until you were living it. Kate knew your heart inside and out.
Once you had walked as much of the park you could, you made it back to where you started.
“I have just one more place to take you and then we will be done,” Kate instructed you.
At this point, you would follow her anywhere. She made you forget that your feet were even hurting in the first place.
After walking several blocks you stopped in front of ‘The Strand,’ your favorite book store. You could spend hours walking along the aisles of books that were waiting for you to open their pages.
“Ta-da!” Kate said. “Now, I want you to pick out whatever your heart desires. It’s on me.”
“Kate, I can’t-”
“You can, and you will.”
You knew Kate was in the position to do so, but that did not make you feel any less guilty. “Whatever you say,” you smiled, unable to contain your excitement. “Wait, but what about Lucky?”
“Don’t worry, he and I will slum it out here next to the heat lamps, we’ll be alright,” Kate replied. “But that also means you can’t take five years.”
“Well, that might be hard but I’ll try my best,” you said sarcastically.
“Uh huh, bye now,” Kate waved you off with a smile.
You couldn’t deny how happy you were. You were able to roam all the aisles that you pleased. The smell of coffee and paper became your favorite smell, savoring it as much as you could before leaving. You ended up buying three books for your enjoyment, hoping that it would take your mind off of your struggles as of lately.
You walked out of the store with your books in hand and found Kate sitting in a chair with Lucky between her legs. She was watching the people fly by around her, while you just couldn’t take your eyes off of her.
“There you are!” Kate exclaimed. “I was about to call the cavalry, but here you are alive and well.”
“Oh please, I was gone for maybe 30 minutes… 45 minutes… okay maybe an hour.”
“Mmhmm, you owe me. My hands are practically ice.”
“I’m sorry, baby. I lost track of time,” you said sadly.
“Did you have fun?”
“Of course.”
“Then that’s all that matters,” Kate smiled. “Now, let’s get you home.”
“That sounds like my kind of party.”
“I’m so happy to see you smiling again.”
You blushed awkwardly. “Today meant a lot, thanks Bishop.”
“Don’t get all mushy on me now. How about we pop open a bottle of wine, take a bath, and end the day with a movie… preferably watching it on the couch,” Kate laughed.
“I think I’m done with beds forever,” you chuckled. “We should do this more often.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
.
.
,
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Delusions
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader
Word count: ~5.4k
Summary: A familiar proposal is not what it seems
A/N: Realized that there isn't enough...angst
Warnings: angst, violence, blood, foul language, hurt/comfort
You sigh heavily as you escape to the treatment area that’s still hectic despite the beginning of the lunch hour having long passed. You aren’t sure how you got so behind this morning with appointments, but you still have two here that will likely bleed into the afternoon. You’ve figured out a plan for one of them, but you needed to talk to your technician first.
A few minutes later you’re back in the exam room with a treatment plan that you hope this owner agrees with. The reason why you’ve been so delayed is due in part to the fact that this man couldn’t make up his damn mind. It wasn’t even just the indecision that bothered you, mostly because it slowed you down, but the fact that he wanted to know every possible outcome of his dog’s problem just wasn’t realistic.
You’d walked back into the room planning to shut down any attempt to start with the hypothetical questions again, but he’d surprised you in a way that unfortunately rendered you speechless for entirely too long.
“What did you just say?”
You know what he said. Honestly. That said, you needed to be sure before you went off on him, and you needed the extra few seconds to figure out how to do it in a way that wouldn’t cost you your job.
The brunette who was probably older than you by a decade simply smiles before repeating himself. You’re already tense but hearing him proposition you again makes you want to slap him. It’s not as if the rings on your finger aren’t obvious.
“I said that I’d like to take you out for drinks. You’re beautiful, surprisingly smart, and I’d love to get to know you better.”
You don’t even know what to do with the backhanded compliment, but you just shake your head before shooting him a serious look that doesn’t dim his smile in the slightest. Damn.
“I’m sorry.”
You’re not. You’re not sure why you felt the need to say that. Probably your damn customer service experience.
“But that’s not going to happen. Not only is it completely inappropriate because I’m your vet, but I’m happily married and not interested.”
You stopped yourself short of saying ‘in anything you might have to offer’ because that seemed rude, but shit, you are reeling from this proposal. You’d been trying to figure out how to get him to agree to hospitalizing his dog with a foreign body, which he did, but he just couldn’t stop there apparently.
You wait tense and more than a little irritated when he just laughs at you with a glint in his eye that makes you steel yourself for what comes next. You contemplate just walking out, and you’ve actually turned toward the door when he speaks up. Again, his words stop you in your tracks, and you can’t keep yourself from spinning around to face him with an incredulous look.
“Oh, I’m well aware that you’re married, Doctor. Your wife is rather infamous in our shared circles.”
You have to take a couple of seconds to process this because what the hell? Was he admitting to also being a criminal? How would he have found out who you were otherwise? Honestly, you figured it was only possible due to the fact that he had people stalking your wife which freaked you out if you thought too hard about it.
You remind yourself of his name so you can tell Wanda later before you shoot him a smile. Your confidence is feigned, but you’re hoping that he doesn’t notice this.
“If that’s the case, I’m surprised you’re brave enough to ask me out knowing my wife will undoubtedly hear about this.”
He hesitates but recovers quickly as he reaches into his pocket and digs out a card. You scowl as he takes his time to write something down before he holds it out to you. You don’t want to take it, but you don’t have all day and you need to take his dog and prep him for surgery later this afternoon.
“Here, just think it over. I can offer you so much more than she can. I’ll be there from eight to midnight anyway, so it won’t be a huge loss either way.”
You can’t help but roll your eyes at this as you snatch the card away and shove it in your pocket. You don’t intend to meet him, obviously, but you want as much evidence as possible to give to your wife.
“Wow, flattery like that will get you nowhere.”
You turn to leave again, but you’re nearly hit in the face with the door when it opens suddenly. You startle but manage to hold in your curse when you see a harried technician in the doorway.
“Oh sorry, Dr. Y/l/n! We need you in treatment, it’s urgent.”
You don’t look back at as you follow the blonde to treatment. You try to forget about what happened because you’re only halfway through your day, and you can’t afford to be distracted. You try not to sigh in exhaustion as you think about how hectic the rest of your day is going to be because of this. You’re going to squeeze in a surgery and hopefully send him home by the time you close.
After all, you don’t want your client to miss the opportunity to be stood up by you.
Wanda’s surprised to arrive to an empty house at a little past 8pm. She checks her phone only to see that you haven’t texted or called. This is rare and she realizes you’ve either had a chaotic day, or something was wrong.
She doesn’t get to worry much; however, because after kneeling down to greet her cat, she hears the garage door open behind her. She smiles before turning back around to open the mudroom door to greet you. She’s not surprised to see that you look exhausted as you shut off your car and practically fall out of it.
“Wands, hey. You beat me home.”
You greet her with a kiss before grabbing your things and following her inside. You’re so exhausted you could fall asleep on the couch, but the fact that you have to tell your wife what happened keeps you standing. Wanda smiles at you as she grabs your hands and shoots you a questioning look. You’re far more tired than she initially thought, and she reaches out for you as your eyelids flutter closed.
“How was your day, detka? Busy?”
You nod before stifling a yawn in the palm of your hand. You shake your head in an attempt to wake yourself up, but it doesn’t do much good. You put your bag on one of the chairs at the counter, and throw your coat over it with a sigh.
“It was. I didn’t get a second to breathe which is why I forgot to let you know I was going to be late. I’m sorry.”
Wanda shakes her head before she reaches out for your stiff shoulders. She smiles when you groan as she starts to rub the tense muscles under her fingers. You close your eyes and bask in the attention before your wife reminds you of the less than pleasant task you need to get over with.
“It’s okay, I get it. Did everything work out?”
Initially, Wanda can’t tell if your hesitation is due to her impromptu massage, but when you open your eyes to meet hers and only sigh, she realizes there’s something else on your mind. You nod in confirmation before stepping away so you can grab the business card that you’d kept in your coat all afternoon. You didn’t want to put it down where someone would find it, but you also didn’t want to lose it. The name on it was important.
You have to resist the urge to gag at the reminder of the look Neil shot you when he came to pick up his dog.
“Yeah, it did. Everyone lived and went home.”
Wanda nods, but her gaze has dropped to the card that you’re passing between your hands nervously. She can see it’s a dark red business card, but that’s it.
She’s about to ask when you finally speak up.
“That said, there’s something I need to tell you.”
You and Wanda end up sitting at the counter as you tell her about your odd, disconcerting experience this afternoon. You watch as your wife transitions from annoyed to confused to irate in a matter of minutes. She glances to the card that she’d set between the two of you with a scowl. The utter gall of this man to proposition you at work, and ask you to meet him at one of her clubs of all places. She didn’t have to tell you what she planned to do for you to have a pretty good idea, but that didn’t stop you from worrying about her.
“Can I go with you?”
Wanda turns to you and immediately shakes her head. She hates to deny you, but when it comes to her business, she knows that it’s for the best. There’s no reason you should get involved in this.
“Absolutely not.”
You frown and open your mouth to argue, but you think better of it. You snap your mouth shut and think about what Wanda will likely do to Neil tonight. Despite the fact that they will be in a crowded club, you doubt that your wife is going to let him live, or at the very least leave unscathed. You only worry about what will happen to his dog for a moment before you realize that it probably wasn’t even his in the first place.
Wanda watches you scowl and she prepares herself for an argument, but you just shake your head. You reach out and squeeze her hand with a sigh. You really don’t want Wanda to leave for what you assume will be most of the night, but you did see this coming. You didn’t exactly think that she’d brush off Neil’s obvious insults. You knew her too well for that. You also know that this is likely about something other than you because when it comes down to it, it almost always is when your wife is mentioned.
Sure you’ve been hit on in the past by people who were clueless about your relationship, but you could usually tell when they weren’t. They had a particular air to them, and you could always tell that they were after something other than what they claimed.
You lean forward to kiss your wife’s cheek with another sigh. You glance at the clock and decide that you’ll try to make it an early night. As long as your anxiety about what your wife was up to didn’t stop you of course.
“Alright, Wands. Be careful? I love you.”
Wanda just smiles at you before she meets your lips with a hum. Her mind is already on a plan for the next few hours, but as she sits back in her seat and looks at you, she decides she’s not going to leave yet. She’s going to text Steve so he knows how to prepare, but first, Wanda’s going to make sure you eat something.
“I love you too. Now let’s get you fed. I’m sure you’re starving.”
Neil sighs as he places his empty glass down on the table beside his first. He glances at his expensive watch and scowls when he realizes it’s nearly 11. He had been waiting for nearly three hours for his guest, and he was getting impatient.
He wasn’t foolish enough to truly think that you would show up. No, if you told your wife about his proposal, as he’d expected, he would be graced with the redhead’s presence tonight as planned. It had certainly been a risk approaching you the way he had, but he was hoping that it paid off. Certainly, choosing this place to meet in was a bigger risk considering the amount of preparation that was involved.
He’d wanted to meet on Wanda’s turf so she’d be lured into a false sense of security. His assignment was straightforward, and he was hoping that tonight would be the night he would complete it. He raised his hand for another drink before realizing that he should probably stop. He wanted to keep his wits when facing his opponent after all.
It was almost midnight when Wanda finally arrived at her club. She’d taken more time at home than she planned, but she honestly didn’t care about being on time tonight. She had cared more about spending time with you before she had to get ready to face Neil.
She’d heard his name before and knew who he worked for, but she couldn’t figure out what exactly he wanted from her. The farthest she’d gotten was to conclude that it was likely something she wasn’t willing to give.
After talking with Steve, she’d arranged to have Bucky stay near the house to keep an eye on you while she was gone.
She entered the club from the back as always with Steve on her heels as she made her way to her office. She passed several of her security team on the way and nodded to them as she wandered out into the VIP area.
“He’s over there. He’s about four drinks in.”
Wanda nods as she takes in the sight of the brunette sitting in a chair that gives him full view of the dance floor. There’s an empty chair beside him that she’s sure was intended for her, but she’s not going to be out in the open with him. She has other plans.
“Have Rachel bring him another drink, then tell him I’ll see him upstairs in 10.”
Steve nods before going off to talk to the bartender leaving Wanda on her own. Well, she was never really on her own when she was here, but the two guards nearby blended in with other wealthy patrons. She glanced to the upstairs VIP area that had been closed off about an hour ago for set up. She hoped that her decision to meet Neil tonight wouldn’t bite her in the ass.
Neil’s only had a few sips of his newest drink when a familiar face appears in front of him. He frowns at the sight of the blonde before he shakes his head with a laugh.
“Well, if it isn’t Wanda Maximoff’s errand boy. I guess she decided to show after all.”
Steve only frowns at him before delivering Wanda’s message with a pointed look. They both glance up to where Neil’s going to have to be in just a few minutes, and the brunette’s smile widens when he spots Wanda watching him.
He sighs heavily as he drains the rest of his drink before standing up. He’s not the least bit wobbly as he raises his empty glass up toward the redhead who’s glaring at him now.
“I suppose I shouldn’t keep the lady waiting.”
Steve says nothing as he follows Neil up the stairs after he’d gotten a sixth drink. The redhead is sitting in a booth along the far wall by the time they arrive. She has her own drink and she watches him carefully as he strides over to her with a smug grin.
“If I’d known it was this easy to get a meeting with you, I would have resorted to flirting with your wife years ago.”
Wanda, unsurprisingly, only scowls at him when he says this and waits until he’s slid into his seat across from her. She takes a moment to shake off her anger before she shoots him a menacing look.
“I have to admit it’s not every day that someone tries to fuck my wife right under my nose. Then again, that’s not really what you were after, was it?”
Wanda waits as Neil leers at her in a way that tells her exactly what’s on his mind. She clenches the fist that’s in her lap before she takes a sip of her drink to try and focus on something other than the brunette’s smug face. She takes a breath in anticipation of whatever disgusting thing he’s about to say.
“Although I have to admit she’s quite the looker, you’re right. I didn’t do all of this just to get my dick wet. There was a higher purpose to getting you here.”
Wanda grits her teeth at his words but doesn’t have time to do much else before he throws what remains of his drink in her face. She hisses and instinctively closes her eyes as she reaches for the knife that she’d stashed under the table. She opens her eyes just in time to see Neil dive forward and reach for her, and she brings the blade down in the middle of his hand.
“Ahh, you bitch!”
Wanda leans forward to grab the back of Neil’s head and slams his face into the table. He’s temporarily stunned and it gives Wanda enough time to yank the knife out of his hand before using it to slit his throat. She ignores the gurgling noises and the growing puddle of blood as she jumps to her feet. She turns toward the sound of gunfire. It’s muffled by the music, but an unmistakable sound that puts the redhead on edge. She’s already drawn her gun and is taking aim when a barrage of gunfire forces her to take cover.
She curses as she dives behind the bar, her gun still clutched in her hand. She holds it up, ignoring the burning in her leg as she spots someone in a mask running toward her. She shoots them and the another before she’s able to tap the com in her ear with another curse.
“Steve where the fuck are you? Are you hit?”
When Steve had been standing guard, he’d immediately realized that something was off. He couldn’t put a name to it, but he just knew that something felt wrong. He’d only had to wait for less than a minute before he’d watched half a dozen men in masks storm the stairs. He’d only managed to shoot two before they were on top of him, and then all hell broke loose.
The blaring of the fire alarm was Wanda’s only response, and she cringed at the sound before forcing herself onto her knees. She hissed as she moved her right leg and she groaned at the sight of a slow trickle of blood coming from a wound in her calf.
“Great.”
Wanda’s about to get to stand and try to assess her odds when she hears footsteps behind her. She didn’t get a chance to turn around before something struck her hard and sent her falling onto her face. She cursed and then screamed when hands grabbed her injured leg and dragged her back from behind the bar.
She manages to turn herself over onto her back, but before she can shoot whoever’s dragging her, her gun is knocked out of her hand. She reaches for her second one and uses all her strength to kick her free leg up and into the face of the masked thug who’s still pulling her.
She groans loudly as she falls to her knees and shoots the man who knocked the gun out of her hands. The second one though is already charging her, and they grab her by the shoulders and throw her back into the bar. She hits the counter with a sickening thud, and she’s still seeing stars when something hits her across the face. She reaches back to steady herself on the bar, but she’s too dizzy and she ends up on her knees again.
“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”
The voice is unfamiliar, but Wanda’s sure that even if she could see straight, she wouldn’t recognize them. She’s still seeing double when she’s lifted off the ground again before she’s shoved back against the bar. Her back hits the granite countertop and she curses in pain. She makes the mistake of trying to put weight on her right leg, and she nearly collapses as a result.
It’s only the rough grip that keeps her on her feet. Wanda finally sees who’s in front of her when she tries reaching for a knife at her belt. She’s thwarted though, and the woman grabs her wrist before slamming her hand into Wanda’s nose.
“Fuck!”
Wanda’s head spins and the still blaring fire alarm disorients her further. She flinches when the grip on her wrist tightens before a gun is waved in her face. She’s only seconds away from resorting to her last-ditch effort when the sprinklers start to rain down on them.
“Any last words, Maximoff?”
Wanda can think of plenty, but the sudden disappearance of the blonde makes her jump and then she ducks belatedly once she realizes the shower of water is getting on her too. She curses before she feels her body start to protest being up right, and she starts to sway.
“Wanda!”
Wanda’s eyes fly open and she struggles to stay standing as she turns to see you standing in front of her. Your hands are up and reaching for her, and she watches as you practically throw what remains of a bottle on the bar as you steady her.
You’d been unable to sleep at home even after Wanda left. You’d tried to read and then watch television to distract yourself, but it didn’t work. You had been thinking about the incident with Neil today, and how something just didn’t add up.
You didn’t understand why he’d go to the trouble to get Wanda at one of her clubs tonight. To be fair, you didn’t understand a lot about her work, but the way he went about it just didn’t make any sense to you. If what he really wanted was Wanda’s presence, he had to have a better way to get it, right? Even if it had required a lie, Neil shouldn’t have had to bother you, and waste so much of your time today if it wasn’t strictly necessary. Right?
This is what you kept rolling around in your head until it was nearly 11 and you were still too wired to sleep. You laid in bed for a bit longer just staring at the ceiling before you began to worry about your wife. What if she was walking into a trap? It was this thought that finally made you text Bucky to figure out what he was up to. You were a little surprised to hear that he was hanging out on the third floor, and you sat up in bed before throwing off the covers and running upstairs.
Somehow, you’d convinced your friend to take you to the club because you were worried about Wanda. He’d refused at first of course, but you’d promised to stay in the car while he checked on your wife and called in back up. It wasn’t until you arrived and heard the fire alarm going off and patrons crowding the street that you realized something was wrong.
If Wanda ever finds out that you just ran into the club without a plan, she’d be furious. However, as you hold onto your wife who’s having trouble standing, you can’t help but be grateful that you’d followed your intuition tonight.
You grimace when Wanda cries out as you try to move her away from the unconscious blonde on the ground, and you quickly change tactics.
“Here Wands, hold on.”
You wrap an arm around your wife’s waist and lead her to the nearest seat. Luckily, it’s not far and you sit her down with a groan before you take a moment to look her over. You feel your anxiety increase as you note the bloody nose, various scratches, and the bleeding wound on her leg. You glance over at Bucky who’s helping a pair of medics get an unconscious Steve onto a stretcher. The fact that there’s no blood is the only thing that keeps you from running over there.
When you’d stormed up the stairs, you hadn’t even noticed Steve initially. He was on the ground a ways from the stairs, and given that the bar was right in front of you, it was difficult not to notice your wife first. You’d run toward her and the blonde that was holding a gun to her head with nothing but a bottle of champagne that you’d grabbed from a bucket in the VIP area. You hadn’t even known if you’d even be able to knock her out with it, but when you raised the bottle and swung as hard as you could, well it shattered over the blonde’s head and sent her down hard.
You know that someone will be over to help Wanda any minute, but you aren’t able to just sit by and watch her continue to bleed. You take off your jacket and then your shirt that will be easier to tie around Wanda’s leg. She just watches you dumbstruck until you manage to apply the makeshift tourniquet and she groans in pain.
“Shit! Y/n, what are yo-you doing here?”
Wanda tries to sound mad, but her question comes out breathless and she’s so sore she can barely keep herself upright. Her back is aching and her ears are ringing as she watches you get back to your feet. You put your jacket back on over your bra, and frown as you reach out to wipe some of the blood off Wanda’s face.
“I was worried about you.”
Wanda passes out only moments before the EMTs arrive to take her to the compound. You figure you have two choices, but you decide to drive with Bucky instead of in the ambulance. You don’t want to get in the way, and you’ll probably end up getting there first given how your friend drives.
You don’t speak to Wanda again until the early hours of the morning. You’ve already called in sick for work, but you’re still tense where you sit beside your wife’s bed uncomfortably warm. You’ve only tried to take off your jacket twice to remember that you’re not wearing a shirt underneath it. You consider asking someone for a change of clothes, but you don’t want to leave your wife’s side.
She’s already had surgery to close the bullet hole in her leg, to set her wrist, and her nose. You had talked to Pietro and Nat when they came down to visit the unconscious redhead. Pietro was understandably pissed and already working on figuring out who was going to suffer for this. The blonde that you’d knocked out had been taken in for questioning, but you hadn’t had the bandwidth to ask about this. All you’d managed to do was check in on Steve who was luckily awake, and already back to work.
It’s nearly 4 in the morning before Wanda wakes up from her surgery. You sit up at the sound of her monitors changing only seconds before you hear a groan.
“Wanda?”
The redhead doesn’t respond immediately, but she turns toward you with a pained look in her eyes. She blinks a few times before she seems to convince herself that you’re really here, and she smiles slightly at the sight of you.
“Y/n. Is…Did I imagine it?”
You have to stop yourself from scoffing at the idea, and you stand up and walk over to your wife’s bedside. You want to reach out for her, but no part of her looks safe to touch. Her wrist is in a cast, and she looks so tense and frail that you worry that anything you do will hurt her. You shake your head before you kneel at her side and meet her slightly unfocused gaze. You figure that the pain medications she’s on are responsible for this.
“No, you didn’t imagine it, Wands. I got to thinking about how things didn’t add up, and I came to the club to confirm my suspicions. I’m really glad I arrived when I did.”
Not that earlier wouldn’t have been better. You don’t say this though because you can already tell Wanda is confused. She frowns and she tries to sit up only to curse when she puts weight on her wrist.
“Ow, shit!”
“Wanda, wait. Let me help you.”
Wanda’s too tired to argue, so she lets you hoist her up into a sitting position with minimal fuss. Her back is still tender, but as you prop her up against the pillows on her bed, she barely notices. She looks over to you with an expression that’s torn between gratitude and frustration. She’s beyond grateful that you saved her from being shot, but she hates that you were in danger.
She knows that she can’t protect you from everything. You’ve only had this argument a dozen times, but that didn’t stop Wanda from trying. This is why she’d told you to stay home tonight, but she would be lying if she said that your arrival at the club wasn’t timely.
Finally, she sighs before she takes a deep breath which makes her nose ache. She groans at the thought of it being broken. What a fucking mess.
“Thank you, detka. For the rescue. I won’t say I’m happy that you were there, but I am grateful.”
You realize what Wanda’s saying and you smile before leaning forward to kiss her. You switch to her forehead last minute, and Wanda offers you a sheepish smile. You frown in confusion, but then end up nearly rolling your eyes at what she says.
“I promise I was careful, Y/n.”
You reach across the bed to hold Wanda’s uninjured hand, and you simply shake your head with a sigh. You know that protecting Wanda from getting hurt is near impossible in her line of work. You know that despite having the best security, and more weapons than you can fathom, things like this will happen. You hate it and tonight definitely made you want to ask your wife to quit again, but you can’t. You have to believe that this is a one-off, and it’s simply best to be grateful that Wanda’s already awake and making excuses.
You lift her hand before kissing it with a teasing smile.
“We’ll argue about your definition of ‘careful’ later, babe. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Wanda briefly considers what could have happened if you hadn’t shown up when you did. Your paranoia had likely saved her life while her anger may have almost killed her. She tries to consider what signs she’d missed when she’d arrived at the club last night. Had she been poorly prepared, or had there already been a trap in place?
She knows that she has weaknesses. She’s not arrogant enough to think otherwise, but unfortunately sometimes she forgets that you’re probably her biggest and most obvious one. Anyone who knows who she’s married to is able to exploit this and trigger her fight or flight response like they had tonight. She can’t say for sure if she would have acted far differently if someone else had been threatened. If she’d been threatened, but all she knows is that anytime you’re mentioned or you’re potentially at risk, she loses her head a bit.
She should be better than this. After this many years she should know how to separate her personal life from business. She supposes the problem is that others want to blur these lines and use one to influence the other.
She sighs in annoyance at the headache she’s causing, and she turns back to you when you squeeze her hand. She turns to see you shooting her a concerned look, and she can’t help but melt.
This is why she lets herself have a weakness. Being with you, and being able to call you hers is worth it. It has to be.
“Are you okay?”
Wanda just nods as she pulls you into a one-armed hug. You’re careful and barely touch her as you hug her back. She sighs in relief as she just tries to bask in your presence for a few seconds. The rest can wait. She just wants to hold you.
“I will be.”
Masterlist
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x female reader#wanda maximoff fanfiction#wanda x reader#silver springs drabble#silver springs#mob au
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Hopeless romantic
Part 1 ◇ Part 2
Warnings: none except mentions of readers past traumas, mention of sexual objectification.
Content: osamu x reader, Angst (to fluff in the next chapters), hurt no comfort.
A/n: it's my first long-fic, please be nice :)
You're not used to being loved.
Your parents were always strict, hardly ever showing their affection, you didn't even have any close friends until you started working, where you found your best friend who showed you the blessings of a platonic love; but time passes and things happen, you had to move out of the town, leave your one true friend behind.
You are not used to love but especially romantic love, because all men did was see you as the object of their sexual desires, or maybe a good time-pass until a better one came along. Never as a person with feelings, never as a woman who loved them more than they loved her.
Sometimes you were too much, sometimes you weren't enough.
Too affectionate, too clingy, too dramatic, too loud. Not pretty enough, not smart enough, not horny enough. You tried and tried to be more, to be less, to be loved, but despite your efforts, love remained elusive, even with women.
So, after years of hoping and yearning, you resigned yourself to a loveless existence.
It is not to say that you never felt happy; even if you didn’t have love, you had fun and drama, you had friends to drink with (accompanied by the ting of pain the day after), you had a lot of books to read (leaving a bitter taste in your mouth whenever you finished one), you had dates and clothes and all the good and beautiful things in life and you've learned to appreciate these fragments of happiness.
But sometimes you get lonely.
You are used to it at this point, the crushing weight in your chest at 11 PM is your daily ritual before you finally give in to sleep.
So when you see Osamu Miya’s warm smile as he greets you in his restaurant, you battle to stop your stupid crazed heart, which is currently trying to jump out of your mouth.
You are just a client, his smile doesn’t mean anything, he is only doing his job, and you have seen him give the same smile to the old ladies who only order a coffee and linger to chatter for more than two hours, too. He’s a professional, after all. You are a regular and all he wants is your money, the bastard.
(you completely ignore the fact that he remembers details about you that no one bothers to remember; like the colour of your jewellery, the names of the dogs in your shelter or how your eyeliner is a little glittered today.)
Still, you are glad you got to know him. If anything, at least he is a good friend to you, always listening to what you have to say and filling your stomach with delicious food.
“ ‘Evening, Y/N. The usual?” He asks. You nod as you sit on the corner of the counter, the same seat you sat on the first day you came in.
(Osamu puts a “Reserved” sign on it every day until your arrival, not letting anyone else sit on it because it’s yours. But you don’t need to know that.)
You chatter with Tsumoto, the part-timer student who works in his shop, about his new crush, giving him advice you wouldn’t listen to nor follow from somebody else, and just as you are about to tell him that he should just write love letters to his crush, the doorbell rings; a pretty girl with dark long hair and the body of a goddess walks in, looking around for something, or better, for someone.
“‘Samuuu!” she calls him just as he comes out of the kitchen, and his face lights up, his arms envelop her figure and her lips meet his cheeks in an affectionate gesture.
… what?
“Emi! How are you, doll?” his voice holds tenderness as he guides the girl to one of the seats available, “Have a seat, I'll fix something up for you.”
She is a beautiful girl indeed, her hair flutters in the air like sea waves and her deep green eyes would make any man weak in his knees. She graces him with a smile, her flawless teeth gleaming.“A coffee is enough ‘Samu, I’m going to meet a friend soon.”
“Roger that!” he nods, signaling to Tsumoto for the order, before returning his attention to her.
He looks happy, you don’t think he has ever looked at you with this much fondness, and you’ve never witnessed any girl embrace him, let alone kiss his cheek. Hell, you didn’t even know if he had any female friends who were not his friends’s girlfriends.
(You feel your vision blur and something clenches in your chest. You swallow it down.)
You have no idea what they are talking about, you are not listening, all you can think about is how much you feel so so stupid. You didn’t hope for anything, you tried not to hope for anything at all, but feelings are hard to get rid of, especially if you see the one causing these feelings every week.
You look at them talking like best friends who haven’t seen each other for a long time and the feeling of inadequacy gnaws at you. You wonder if you ever even stood a chance to begin with. You yearned to be someone close to Osamu, someone who could give him hugs and kisses easily, someone who knew everything about him; you yearned to be part of his inner circle, but now you feel utterly stupid and delusional. Of course, he would never see you in that light, his affection is reserved only for a pretty girl like her. Of course he wouldn’t even think about getting physical with you. What were you even thinking?
Of course, you can’t be part of his world.
Reblogs are really appreciated! - Part 2
#Osamu x reader#Osamu miya x reader#Haikyuu x reader#Haikyuu#Osamu miya#Haikyuu comfort#Haikyuu fluff#Haikyuu angst#Osamu angst#Osamu miya angst#Osamu miya comfort#Osamu miya fluff
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Gosh I know everyone loves the idea of a stage hypnotist with a skeptical audience member, but what about a stage hypnotist with a skeptical assistant?? A new assistant doesn’t actually believe in their boss’ abilities, so the hypnotist proves their skills (and gets a new toy along the way)?
Ooooo I really like this! That’s great, honestly.
Zoey was running low on funds.
That’s what she repeated to herself over and over as she approached The Magnificent Matteo’s studio for the first day of her new job.
Magic was bullshit, and everyone knew it.
Maybe there was one moment when she went to that Vegas show and thought it was real but that was 6 years ago and she was very, very drunk whilst watching.
And now here she was, stone cold sober and regretting her life choices which led her here.
“Zoey?” A voice called. Matteo. “Come in, come in! Welcome. You can leave your coat wherever you want. Let me show you around.”
He was nice enough. Here’s the coffee machine, here’s your desk, I know some good lunch spots around here, blah blah blah.
“And this is where the magic happens…. Literally!” He laughed a bit too hard at his joke. Zoey was sure he told it to every person who walked through the door.
The props caught her eye: fake flowers, top hats, a wand, and a large collection of pocket watches.
“Ah, I see you’ve found my favourite section.” He said, somehow appearing behind her, causing Zoey to jump. “Magic and hypnosis are closely linked, you know.”
She hummed in agreement, not trusting that her words wouldn’t come out as something like “yeah, they’re linked because neither of them are real.”
Matteo selected a watch from the display.
“Have you ever been hypnotised, Zoey?” He asked.
She shook her head and resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
“Interesting. I usually pick an audience member. They tend to think it’s fake if I use my assistant, but I often need the practice. Would you be comfortable with aiding me in the future?”
She couldn’t say she didn’t believe, as that would ultimately reveal how she truly saw his profession. Instead, she settled on an answer she thought would get her out of ‘practice’ whilst keeping the lie up.
“I don’t think I can be hypnotised.”
The sparkle in Matteo’s eye made her grimace. She’d clearly said the wrong thing.
He gestured for her to sit.
“Would you mind if I put that to the test?”
She nonchalantly shrugged. It was fine, Zoey could just play along if she had to. She’d at least be able to use her acting degree for something.
Matteo dangled the pocket watch in-front of her eyes.
She watched as it heavily swayed back and forth. Slowly rocking. The clock face ticked, ticked, ticked as each second passed.
Another second that she was regretting not taking a job like dog walking or an unpaid internship.
“Just keep your eyes focused on the back and forth motion.”
Matteo’s voice was deeper now. Softer, too. Zoey had to admit his change in demeanour stirred something within her.
It was a pretty watch. Not one of those janky toy watches where the cover would snap off 5 minutes after you bought it. This looked like a family heirloom, or something someone with plenty of money to throw around would buy. Not that she’d know anything about that.
Matteo was still talking to her in that deep, soft voice, but honestly? Zoey had zoned out already. Focus was never her strong suit. Follow the dopamine, or whatever.
She simply let her mind drift as the watch dragged her eyes left to right to left to right…
“I’m going to count to three and snap my fingers. Once I do you’re going to fall into a deep, deep trance.”
Okay, sure bud. Whatever you say.
“One… two… three…”
SNAP
Everything went dark. Underwater. Zoey could hear people laughing. Cheering. Her thoughts were just out of reach, like a dream slipping through your fingertips as you wake up.
SNAP
She jolted awake, and the cheers surrounded her.
She was on stage. As was Matteo.
“Give it up for my lovely assistant Zoey!”
How long had it been? Was it even the same day? She wasn’t meant to have a show for another week?!
Matteo guided her behind the curtain.
“You did great out there tonight.” He said, smiling down at her.
“What did you do to me?! How long has it been?!” She pulled away from him.
He frowned.
“Oh, no need to worry about all that. Magic isn’t real, remember?” He held his hands ready to snap.
“And neither is hypnosis.” She finished blankly, as she was thrown back into trance.
#I really enjoyed writing this one#hypnok1nk#hypnosis#mind control#brainwashing#hypnotized#watcher answers#mindfuck#watcher writes#watcher’s stories
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Hiya! Massive fan of yours, and I have a question regarding the Monster Hunter AU.
What's going on with Che'nya? Is he just a normal guy? (I don't think this is likely TBH) Is he a monster who's normal about the reader? Is he just vibing?
So, my questions are (BTW I don't mean to be rude, I just like Che'nya):
Is Che'nya in the AU?
What monster is he? (I peronally think he'd be something like a Nekomata or Bakeneko, and I'd love to know what you think!)
May he be someone who is kissable? :3
That is all, thank you, have a lovely day/evening/whatever time you exist in.
Thank you for being a fan!! It’s so shocking to remember loads of people Reader my stuff. (Even having a single post with 300+ notes is amazing considering that was the population of my elementary school 😭).
Truthfully… When I started the au, I wasn’t very interested in Chenya, horrible I knoww!! (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞!! but recently, i’ve grown a little bit of an interest in him! (The Cheshire cat and the Queen of Hearts have always been my favs in any rendition of Alice in wonderland.) Though, he was added in the very first draft for the Au! In fact, he actually had Jacks position of being a hunter you were close to before starting your missions.
So truthfully, he is in the au! I’m just currently deciding whether or not to add him officially… (It already happened to Fellow and Skully, so the chances are pretty high!)
Oh my goodness!!! (」°ロ°)」 I love the idea of a nekomata!! The thought of reader seeing a long time friend of theirs sprout tails and ears while throwing fireballs at innocent civilians is so painful! Imagine, you watching Chenya smile at you with that usual teasing demeanor, like you’re back to being a pair of hunters, evading your work husband (Rollo) with laughs of joy as if he’s not manipulating dozens of corpses behind him. You blink once and he’s popped behind you, whispering riddles about the fair future you’ll have if you leave behind this job, all the monsters who’ve fallen deeply for you. You turn your head to face him again, and he’s back at your front, a single clawed finger picking your chin up, his tails brushing against your hand.
It’s okay, if you come with him to the forest he originated from, he promises your days will forever be filled with carefree joy, the only worries you’ll ever need to have being the pranks he can pull on you.
Whether you decide to follow him into the forest, is up to you :).
My original thought, even though they’re closer related to dogs, I thought a kitsune would fit Chenya amazingly!! Their teasing/pranking nature, and feeding off vitality sound good to me. Plus, I may or may not be a sucker for kitsune… Wake up to the feeling of soft tails enveloping you, the sight of passed-out humans greeting you before quickly getting attacked by arms wrapping you in a tight hug. You look up and Chenya gives you the cheekiest of grins, petting your head like you’re the one with tails rather than him! Though, I won’t deny I love the idea of a Nekomata so much more!! I’m really considering making him that in the au honestly.
And is he kissable? of course he is!! Any monster is kissable in the eyes of MH!Reader!! Literally Pokémon’s: Catch them all slogan except instead of catch, it’s Date them all if you’re the affection type, or slay them all if you’re on the murder route! Either way, they’re all so into you either one works (Which really shouldn’t be the case but their monsters. They just assume your love language is stabbing them. Only you though, anyone else who tries ends up getting the table turned on them.)
But overall, you might see Chenya as an addition to the cast soon enough >:D, and if you kiss him, well it’s only fair you let him kiss you twice as much.
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How about this: After some especially rough missions, Ghost is on edge, his mental health hanging by a thread. Of course he doesn't admit it and powers through training and everything, but everyone knows he needs help, something to balance him out again.
Even the doctors are on their wits ends with him at this point, so they try a new approach and assign him to some animal assisted therapy. OF COURSE he hates the idea - waste of time and he is fine anyway...
So reader and their animal are invited to base to try and help him. (Or reader is the team mate, and the therapist an additional character - how ever, you know best.) I'll leave to you which animal it will be. ;-)
Ghost & Peppa (the dog)
Anon, hold my purse while I fill this with warnings:
Brief mentions of war
Mentions of physical & emotional trauma
This story is purely fictional and should not be considered an accurate representation of the practices and/or effects of Animal-Assisted Therapy
I did NOT cry while writing this. I’m fine.
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He’s fine. Of course, he is.
Nothing wrong with collecting mutilated bodies after a bomb explosion—It’s part of the job.
What about him getting shot? Ah well, it got him on his shoulder—that doesn’t count. It wasn’t life-threatening, according to him. He was fine.
He had to talk to someone. You all tried to pass the idea to him. Everyone except Gaz, who didn’t want to get involved since he, too, was going through some shit.
Soap told him straight away. “Mate, you need to talk to somebody”.
“I got nothing to say”, was his response.
Price was more subtle. Such a tactful guy, your captain. He tried to bring the subject up by sharing his own therapy experiences.
“Opening up and feeling vulnerable was difficult,” he said, “but I pushed through.”
But all he received was a shrug and a stern “glad it worked out for you. I’m fine.”
And you? You tried to cheer him up, calm him down, make him talk.
Nothing.
For the past two months, he has been training daily, hitting that punchbag and bench pressing like a maniac. He was pushing his physical limits, attempting to lift barbells equal to his weight, and you were looking at a person struggling to lift the weight of his conscience.
But he was fine.
Until Gaz came one day and pitched an idea to the captain: “Animal-assisted therapy” they called it. The doctors assigned it to him, and it helped. So, why not give it a try with Ghost?
The lieutenant hated the idea. Hated it. Why? Because “it was pointless and stupid” to him.
Plus, he was fine.
But Price placed his thumbs under his shoulder straps and told him it was an order. And nobody messed with the captain when he put his thumbs under his shoulder straps.
The therapist arrived the following week with Peppa, the dog.
“Peppa, like the pig?”
That was Ghost’s first question. And upon the therapist’s first nod, the follow-up question came.
“Why the fuck would you name the dog Peppa?”
The therapist explained that Peppa’s first patient was a little girl who struggled with anxiety. She named her Peppa after the cartoon character, and the name stuck.
Days turned into weeks, and although he initially protested against the therapy sessions, he was now willingly participating in them. Almost looking forward to them.
“Can’t come to training today; got a meeting with Peppa.” He would say.
Such compliance? From Ghost? How?
You all reached a conclusion because you needed an explanation that could make sense—Ghost wasn’t engaging with the therapist as much; he was opening up to the dog.
Peppa became his silent confidante.
He was playing with her and scolding her for eating too fast. Sometimes, he would ask her “why she was so sad” or “so devious” and why she was always drooling. In response, Peppa would just whine, wiggle her tail, or tilt her head, and Ghost would interpret her reactions as he pleased.
Although you could all see the improvement in his demeanour, you still worried about his well-being.
But whenever you asked him how he was, his response remained the same.
He was fine.
You tried to shift the focus and ask how the therapy was going instead. Yet, Ghost would still cling to his standard response.
Fine.
And then, the therapist advised to do something else instead.
“Ask him how Peppa is doing.”
And that simple question, about the dog’s well-being, unveiled the hidden side of his emotions. He would open up, and recount how Peppa was feeling a bit down one day, seemed too scared another day, or ate very little. He projected his own feelings and experiences onto the dog. He used her as a vessel to express his inner turmoil, revealing his struggles in a way that felt more comfortable and less vulnerable to him.
After all, it was the dog’s struggles, not his own.
He was fine.
“Do you think Peppa gets a payslip every month?” you joked one day as you looked at Peppa lying next to Ghost. “For having a job and all?”
“Peppa was a stray, you know; she always fought to survive.” he replied, kissing her head, “poor thing.”
“Poor thing,” you repeated, this time looking at him.
He knew he wasn’t fine. You all knew.
But Peppa didn’t pressure him to do or say anything.
She wouldn’t urge him to “talk to somebody” or “try meditation.”
She would insinuate, in her own way, that she was there for him.
Looking at him with her tongue out and a wide smile across her face.
Whining and demanding more pets.
Giving him the ball so they can play fetch.
Reminding him that caring for himself was just as important as those gentle scratches behind her ear.
“We’re in this together, human—you will be fine.”
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#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x gn!reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x y/n#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x y/n#ghost cod mw2#call of duty#modern warfare 2#cod mwii#ghost call of duty
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