#nowhere else has ever offered
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Do people commission artists/caligraphers for hyousatsu or how does it work? Especially with uncommon names or styles.
It hadn't occurred to me that you might commission them, how interesting! Google says that does happen, but I believe it's mostly from design companies. My icon is actually from a simulator like this where you can input text and try out different typefaces, designs, materials, etc.
If you wanna try it out, click the left icon ("Choose from series") to see all the different templates. (Or choose by door type [middle] or from the gallery [right].) If you find one you like, click the green button below it. From there it's mostly self-explanatory regardless of Japanese ability :)
#asks#official-kircheis#at my old place you could ask management for one#they were all the same style and relatively plain#i kinda wanted one but ultimately never asked#(a sign on the door saying ''the only gaijin? they live HERE!!''#......yeah maybe no actually)#nowhere else has ever offered#but i've mostly lived in smaller rental buildings#whereas that place was big and some people owned#so maybe that's why
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what if I just screamed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and cried!!!!!!!!
#local girl forced to deal with everything on its own due to incompetency of parents 5 dead 24 injured.#I’m all of the ppl who were harmed. i am. i just wish I could ask someone about things and get a good answer#that didn’t make me feel like. well. you know. but yeah.#and then INVITING THEMSELVES UP FOR MY BIRTHDAY.#like. yeah I don’t have plans and I won’t have friends up there yet but also. maybe ask me first instead of just deciding 😔#but also I might not even be able to do any of that bc ! none of this might happen!#bad things just keep happening and it keeps making me just. want to quit the whole process and stay here and give up#but I already bought the car so now I have to commit and just. yeah. yeah. i wanna scream#i am trying to vent less on the internet but also there is nowhere else to put this!!!!! i don’t have ppl to vent to so now this is my diary#but yeah. I’m just. going crazy. i know I should be doing my own research but also god would it kill you to even try.#like literally no effort has ever been made to help me it’s just an afterthought of like oh have you thought about x when I thought abt x#like weeks ago. and it’s always been this way. or me going yes I’ve thought abt x and them going oh good and then not offering any more help#i would just like to be given proper guidance once in my life. just once.#that didn’t feel like ripping my heart and all my guts out of my body. like just once in my life yk is it too much to ask for#but no I’m the only one with any fucking vision around here and I hate it so much#whatever. it’s fine. I’ll suffer through another day tomorrow. its fucking fine.
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MW2 Reaction to You Being A Virgin
Warnings: 18+, Implications of Smut, Corruption Kink, Purity Kink, Innocence Kink, Ownership Kink, Age Gap, Implied Slight Yandere Graves Inexperience, Objectification, Dominant MW2, Soft MW2, Gaz is anxious :-( but trying his best, MW2 Trying To Be Smooth, Profanity, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.
Ghost
The fact that you, innocent, are his to love and corrupt sends white-hot anticipation between his legs.
He’s imagined what you’d be like in bed: how you’d take him, the sounds you’d make. Of course he has – practically everyone on Base has.
But now, his fantasies are tinged with something feral. A primal need to show you that he is the best choice for you (even if he doesn’t believe it himself) – the only one strong enough and skilled enough to be yours and to make you his.
He’s fantasised about you looking up at him with doe eyes while he pins your wrists to the mattress, voice meek as you tell him, as if it’s a secret, that you’ve “Never done this before…”
He can’t live without it. The fact that he can – will – be your first time. Satisfy you in ways nobody else will ever be able to compete with.
He’d never admit it, but a dark part of him has plagued him with ideas of ravaging and corrupting you, about making your first time so pleasurable and carnal that nobody will ever be able to satisfy you as he can.
“Don’t worry, Sweetheart,” he tells you, taking your chin between his fingers. He lowers his lips to your ear. You don’t see the dark gleam in his eye. Don’t see the deliciously dark idea cross his mind – the impulse to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to feel anything, nevermind pain. And he makes a promise to you anyway.
“I’ll take care of you.”
König
“Thought as much.” König’s words are blunt yet sharp.
“Seeing as you have everyone wrapped around your finger, it’s clear you have no regard for the way you conduct yourself.”
You may construe König’s words as mean. Derogatory, even. He means it as a compliment. Even if you don’t know it yet.
“You think I don’t see the way you flaunt yourself in front of the soldiers – thinking that you’ll be able to get away with it without consequence.”
König’s frame towers over you. His gaze is ice, and any trace of the socially anxious soldier you knew is gone.
“I wonder how you like it.” he muses aloud. His voice is tinged with something unreadable. Venomous.
“How you’ll take it. Rough, gentle…” His eyes narrow.
“Mean.”
He’s boxed you in with his stature alone.
“Makes no difference to me,” he tells you. Deceptively calm. And then, an offer. One you can’t refuse.
“I’ll fuck you every which way until I find what makes you scream the loudest.”
Soap
“Oh, really?” he says, eyebrow quirked and a hidden smile teasing his lips.
Johnny really couldn’t care less that you’ve never had sex before. But, the fact that you shared this information with him – albeit after he steered the conversation towards more…intimate topics – gave him hope that you were hinting towards something.
Something that Johnny’s wanted since he realised he was massively, whorishly down bad for you.
From his position opposite you, against the kitchen counter, he takes a step forward.
“I suppose you’re not very experienced then, are you?”
He advances until he’s in front of you. A wolf and a lamb. Close enough that you can smell his cologne.
His eyes are piercing, but there is a softness behind them. Something that writhes and wants and needs.
His hands come to rest upon the counter behind you. Nowhere for you to run. The heat from his body is scorching.
“Though, I’d be more than happy to…” His voice husks. “Beef up your résumé.”
Valeria
Corruption kink to the MAX
Valeria is a territorial, dominant woman – that much is easy to see.
And the fact that you haven’t had anyone else before her just does something to her.
Alters her brain chemistry permanently.
There’s not one soldier, police officer or government official she doesn’t own in Las Almas.
So why shouldn’t she own you, too?
Now she’s thinking of every conceivable way she’s going to take ownership of you.
She thinks about it so often that she struggles to complete her paperwork without having to disperse the issue before she can continue.
But be warned: there will come a day when satisfying herself just won’t cut it. When she’s going to seek you out and ruin you.
“It might hurt at first, mi Amor,” she tells you, hand stroking your cheek, coming down to your jaw. “But trust me when I say that–”
Her hand grips your jaw. Tight. A viper’s strike. A fire burns in her eyes and the corners of her lips curl up in a cruel smile.
“I’ll make it hurt a whole lot more if you don’t do as I say.”
Price
Given his age, Price has had his fair share of experiences.
But that doesn’t harden him to the simple fact that you haven’t.
In his eyes, there’s something endearing about how you’ve yet to give yourself to another person.
Another person that, he hopes, will someday be him.
The idea makes something in him stir. The fact that the difference between your age and his makes him that much more confident in his ability to please you in ways no mere boy can makes him anxious to act.
“Oh. Is that right, Love?” He says, eyes light and his smile dangerous.
“S’ppose you’re waiting for the right person.” His posture is inviting. Tempting. Belies the rush he’s feeling — the desire to have you at his mercy in the most carnal sense.
“Pretty little thing like you, you could have your fill of men.”
He’s angling for something. His face says it all.
He steps towards you. Again. Again. He’s in front of you.
His chest is almost to yours. His smile is shallow now. Strained. Like his pants.
“Probably looking for someone with experience.”
He thrives on the way your chest flutters. His does, too, but it’s masked beneath a heavy stare.
“And trust me, Love,” his voice is low. A message for you and you alone as he brings his lips to your ear, breath hot against your skin.
“I’ve got plenty to spare.”
Horangi
You don’t hear it for his mask, but Horangi lets out a shuttered breath.
“That’s why you’re always so quiet when sex talk comes up.”
He says it as a fact, but you take it as a question. You nod.
Horangi’s arms unfurl from his chest, come to rest at his sides. He’s looking at you.
Even through the layers of his mask, his gaze is heavy. Leaden.
He steps towards you. His frame, broad, fills your vision.
You can hear how heavy his breathing has become. How thick the air is.
How much he’s trying to restrain himself.
“How about a deal,” he proposes. Commands.
“You give me something to have a nice, long, hard think about,” his hips are to yours. You feel him pressing against you.
“And I’ll give you something to talk about.”
Alejandro
“You surprise me, mi amor,” he says, natural as anything. As if he already knew.
“I’d have thought someone would have swooped in and claimed you by now.”
Truth be told, Alejandro wanted to be that somebody so badly that it made him ache in places he’d rather not think about. Especially when you’re already making containing himself incredibly difficult with that pouting, wide-eyed, innocent look.
God, you had no idea what you were doing to him.
“Or…are you saving yourself for someone specific?”
Before you, his frame is broad and imposing even without all his military gear on.
He takes your chin between his fingers. Tilts your head so your gaze can’t escape his. A shiver runs up his spine at the sound of your breath stuttering.
His words aren’t rhetorical. He’s pulled the answer from you – seen it in your eyes.
“Or are you just waiting for a man who knows how to take care of you?”
Rodolfo
“O-oh!” Rudy chokes out. His cheeks are already giving way to a telltale pink. He tries to cover it.
“But– you’re so pretty and smart and kind – I thought you’d have a boyfriend by now!”
In some ways, Rudy’s a bit of a traditionalist: his mind still jumps to the idea that you’d typically only be intimate with someone you’re already in a relationship with.
Not that he’d judge you if this were not the case for you.
But he sees his chance. And he takes it.
“Well, if you’re not with anyone, then…would you like to go out sometime? With me?”
His eyes are wide and filled with hope – something you’d never have expected from a man in such a brutal line of work.
Sex is the last thing on his mind right now: truly, he’s so taken in with the idea that you’re single and available that your sexual status means very little to him.
Though, that isn’t to say he hasn’t thought about you like that before, or that he hasn’t spent many a night with his face smothered with pillows as your name escapes from between his lips, panting, moaning.
That’s a little secret for you to uncover later in your relationship…
Graves
“So you’re tellin’ me that no one’s had the privilege of fuckin’ that pretty little ass of yours?”
Graves sure has a way with words.
For all his slimy business practices, this is the one time he’s genuinely surprised. Unable to be slick.
He puts his game face on. Gives you a half-lidded stare and lowers his voice. His heart hammers: he conceals it behind a cool tone.
“Well, colour me impressed, Angel,” he says. A hand comes to the hem of your shirt, takes it between slow, intentional fingers. He has to resist the urge to look at your chest when he pulls the fabric taut.
“And here I was thinkin’ I already knew everything about you.”
He’s moving in before you can analyse his statement. Before you can begin to understand how badly this man has lusted after you – how deeply entrenched in your life he’s become. And all without you knowing.
He places a hand on the wall behind you. Presses himself closer to you.
“How much to let me be the first,” he drawls. Your eyes widen. His thin smile grows.
“And last.”
Gaz
Bless his little cotton socks, he doesn’t know what to do with both this information and himself.
See, despite being incredibly intelligent, Gaz is still the youngest of the 141, so he’s not entirely accustomed to situations like this.
He can’t tell if you’re hinting, flirting, or just telling him something about yourself.
He remembers what Soap taught him, though.
Should a situation arise where someone is flirting with you, just use your intuition and don’t fuck it up.
Gaz leans against the doorframe, almost misses, scrambles to resume his ideal posture.
“Oh, so we’re more similar than you’d think, then.”
He can feel Soap banging his head against a wall. Jesus, Gaz – at least try to impress (Y/N) !
At your raised eyebrow and your playful “Oh?” Gaz coughs. His voice lowers.
“But…” he steps closer. “Maybe we can un-virgin each other.”
Long story short, Gaz has no idea what he’s talking about. But, somehow, his nervous disposition and pretty boy charm have enamoured you. And you may have told him you’d take him up on his offer 👀.
Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)
Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist
Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3
#mw2 smut#mw2 x reader#cod x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#konig x reader#konig smut#ghost x reader#captain price x reader#john price x reader#john price smut#soap x reader#ghost smut#alejandro vargas x reader#valeria garza x reader#kyle gaz garrick#rodolfo parra#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost cod
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“could you be seen with me and still act proud?”
➢ Jing Yuan, Argenti, Aventurine, Dan Heng, Blade, Xiao, Childe, Wanderer, Zhongli
➢ Star Rail / Genshin x [GN] Reader
➥ (their answer + reaction to this question)
➥ (comfort / fluff)
✧ - JING YUAN
“Why, of course. I would hold your hand up for the whole of the Xianzhou to see.”
This was pretty expected of the sly general. However, what was unexpected was the way he took you in his arms and lifted you up—bridal style. You begged him to put you down as he opened the doors of his and your room, now making his way outside to remind the whole Xianzhou that you're his and he's yours.
✧ - ARGENTI
“Dearest love—of course, I would be so proud to have the chance to take the hand of mortal beauty itself, and, if it were chivalrous, I would boast about your beauty everywhere I go.”
Ever so poetic, Argenti pulls your heart strings again with his creative (yet cheesy) lines. He loves you; that's a fact that nobody can deny, and he believes that you were sent down by Idrila herself with how attractive you are. Without a hesitant thought, he backs away and offers you his hand—will you accept the offer in which he takes you from place to place, hand in hand, to show the whole world that your his love?
✧ - AVENTURINE
“You wanna take a bet? Here, I'll take you out to dinner if you guess my answer correctly—get it wrong, and I decide on what I'll do with you.”
With a wink and a smile turning into a smirk, it's always hard to guess what Aventurine is thinking, but with the clock ticking, you hardly get time to really think, and so you curiously answer with “no.” A smile grows on his face, and he leans in close, holding your arms. He whispers in your ear, “I guess that means you have to do what I tell you tonight.”
✧ - DAN HENG
“Of course. I do... I do love you, after all.”
His sentences are kept short and simple (with a little bit of blush), just like how they always are. Now, unlike most people on this list, he isn't bringing you outside to let the world know that you're dating, but he would feel and does absolutely feel proud to have you as his love. He reassures you that he would never feel embarrassed or feel the need to hide his love for you, no matter the crowd he's surrounded by.
✧ - BLADE
“Yes. Nobody's taking you, and nobody's taking me. Everyone had better know that you're mine, and the same goes for me.”
His response was rather threatening, but that's typical with Blade. His words are as sharp as his sword, but they're also as meaningful as sharp; his intent is nowhere near ill towards you, and he only means that he's dedicated himself to you already, and it's a dedication that he would never feel embarrassed or guilty for. Now, take his hand—he'll promise the world that you're his tonight.
✧ - XIAO
“Yes. Why wouldn't I be?”
In Adeptus Xiao language, he means, “yes, of course I would. Archons, holding your hand is a blessing itself.” And, though he doesn't admit it, he still feels it. You are his first and only love in several millennia. You, of every person to ever set foot in Liyue, managed to capture his heart when nobody else could. Xiao loves you, and he feels that he will forever, so he prays you'd banish him if he ever hurts you or hides his love away for something trivial because that means the karma got to him and that he's gone mad.
✧ - CHILDE
“Of course, babe! You know what? Let's go on a date right now— everything's on me!”
And that's simply Childe. Without a word, he disappears and reappears with your favorite outfit in hand, and has you put it on (in private as he waits outside the bedroom door), and when you're done, he's suddenly dressed nicely with roses in hand, and he takes you out on a date. How? No clue, but know that he's letting the whole region know that you're his right here and right now.
✧ - WANDERER
“Huh? That's a stupid question. Why are you asking me, anyway?”
Yes. He means yes in every way possible. His sharp tongue speaks the opposite, but Wanderer truly means that he would show you off to the world if he had to. If he has to, mainly because he finds the concept of love in its entirety as stupid, but he also loves you too much to let you leave him, let alone have someone else think that you're some vacant partner just waiting to be taken. Now, hold both of his hands. He'll glide you above Sumeru City and show everyone there that you're his if you're still thinking about the question.
✧ - ZHONGLI
“Well, of course. Would you like to take a walk around the harbor for me to prove that?”
Zhongli senses your insecurity, and he wishes to alleviate your worries, so he takes you to a popular teahouse by a bridge. It's not that grand or special, but he keeps you close to him as you both sip away at your tea and embrace the company of one another.
yes, this was a heathers reference.
#character x reader#genshin x reader#star rail x reader#jing yuan x reader#argenti x reader#aventurine x reader#dan heng x reader#blade x reader#xiao x reader#childe x reader#tartaglia x reader#wanderer x reader#kuni x reader#scaramouche x reader#scara x reader#zhongli x reader#genshin fic#genshin impact fic#honkai star rail x reader#star rail fic#honkai star rail fic#fluff#comfort#character x y/n#genshin x y/n
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The Whole Bakery
Prompt: How will the boys respond to an S/O who slaps their ass out of nowhere? [Requested by @airghostlyfox]
Featuring: Task Force 141 (CoD: MW2) - John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish (separately) x GN!Reader
Word Count: 0.8k
Warnings: expletives; lightly suggestive content
There he was. Making his morning cup of coffee. Comfortable sleep clothes and sluggish movement. Your handsome partner.
He had finally freed himself from the blanket web and your comfortable arms, with the intent to go through most of his “honey-do” list that weekend.
And he was so unaware.
That your arm was winding up for a powerful smack to his ass.
John Price
The sound was not as impressive due to his sweatpants, but the way he jerked and slowly put down the things in his hands was reward enough. He did not appreciate it. And he did not turn around.
“Luv,” he said in an even tone. “What the hell was that?”
You rubbed the offended cheek with the same hand, deciding against pinching, as he would win any fight you started.
“My darling John. Your ass is just so wonderful, I can’t help myself.”
Both hands gently squeezed his ass. And you pressed an apologetic kiss between his bare shoulder blades.
“You’ve got the whole bakery right here, bubba.” Gentle pats. Still no movement of his neck. “All these buns.”
Finally, he turned around.
He was trying very hard not to smile. Trying not to encourage you. But goddamn, did you look pleased with yourself. Strong arms wrapped around your middle, pressing you to his chest.
“You are-” Kiss. “Such a flirt.” Kiss. “And absolutely shameless.”
You kissed him back and lazily threw your arms over his shoulders.
Behind you, his arm raised itself and smacked your ass as hard as he possibly could. You folded into him with a yelp.
“GOD FUCKIN–!”
Simon Riley
The moment your hand left his cheek, he had turned on you and grabbed you under the armpits.
“Uh oh” was all you had the chance to say before he dragged you off to the nearest wall. He was smiling, but it was the smile that meant you were still in trouble. You chuckled nervously as he settled you against the wall, caging you in and leaning in close.
“You are a cheeky one,” he purred.
“Yessir.”
“Any particular reason we’re playful this morning?”
You wriggled your arms out of his grip, and settled your hands over his ass again. He let you, one of his fingers tapping your nose.
“Well, if you must know, Simon,” you said, adopting a matter-of-fact tone. “It is because your ass is just so delicious looking.”
He snorted at your blunt words and hid his eyes with his hand.
“Bloody hell.”
“I mean, just look at it, lover.” You firmly gripped his ass, squeezing ever so slightly. “All this cake.”
He sighed, but he was still laughing. You’re adorable. He loves you.
Kyle Garrick
You didn’t smack too, too hard. A peace offering for walking around in his boxers and nothing else. Your favorite outfit on him.
But he still jumped and gave you a dirty look.
“It is 8 in the morning, you shit.”
You turned him back around and massaged his ass, humming a cheerful tune. “I’m just gonna knead this yummy dough, don’t mind me.”
“You a cat? Making biscuits?”
You giggled and kissed the back of his neck.
“Oh, have you got some biscuits on you, loverboy.”
He couldn’t help but laugh into his cup, turning himself around and pulling you into his embrace. Soft, coffee-flavored kisses. Then his arms snaking lower, and his own hands settling on your ass.
“I think that’s one of the sweetest things you’ve ever said to me.”
“Sweeter than ‘I love you’?”
He squeezed your ass and pulled you impossibly closer to him.
“Mm,” he sighed into your mouth. “Tied for first.”
You pulled back and narrowed your eyes.
“What? Oh, right. I love you, too, baby.”
Johnny MacTavish
Of all the boys, he has no right to complain. A chronic ass-slapper. Repeat offender groper. Can’t sleep without one hand one you, be it your arm, your stomach, or your leg.
He was singing some song to himself, dancing a little. Background noise that kept him from hearing you until it was too late.
“Steaming bloody-”
You hit him too hard. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. You ducked out of his grasp and started pleading for forgiveness.
“Baby, I’m sorry, that was harder than I meant. I’m sorry. I’m sor- shit.”
A mad scramble around the kitchen island. Never had you run away from your bare-chested Scotsman so quickly.
“Get your arse back here!”
“Nuh uh!”
“Fuck you mean-” He vaulted over the island and you screamed. Like a bird of prey, he grabbed you and dragged you to the couch, falling on top of you with all his weight.
“I’m sorry, baby,” you wheezed.
He smothered your face and neck in kisses, and accepted your apology. He would get you back later. With less force but greater number of ass slaps. You were sure of it.
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Posted: 2023 Dec 12
#cod mw2 x reader#cod x reader#john price x reader#captain price x reader#john price fluff#captain price fluff#simon riley x reader#simon riley fluff#ghost x reader#ghost fluff#kyle garrick x reader#kyle garrick fluff#gaz x reader#gaz fluff#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish fluff#soap x reader#soap fluff#soap mactavish x reader#soap mactavish fluff
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𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐌 !
pairing: venom!jay x reader
genre: venom au, one sided rivalry, loser!jay, office coworkers, superhero
synopsis: when a geeky coworker’s transformation catches your eye, curiosity leads to a discovery far darker—and more thrilling—than you ever imagined. now, blackmail has you entangled with jay and his possessive alter ego, venom, in a dangerous game neither of you wants to end.
warnings: kissing, fighting, venom??
note: where are my marvel girlies at whoo hoo! venom is so pookie and my biggest "hear me out" hehe he got me sobbing in the theatre. jay as venom would be SO hot kjvfbvnjb >< so i wrote this to make up for me going mia for a while, i have too much school work so writing will be slow. anyway enjoyyy reading!!
word count: 2.5k
your office life was a balancing act between emails, deadlines, and… keeping your one-sided rivalry with park jongseong alive. jay(as everyone else called him), with his slightly too-short ties and endearing but tragic fashion sense, was the clueless office geek. he was awkward, quiet, and too nice for his own good. yet, no matter how awkward he was, jay always managed to excel in everything he did, effortlessly snagging the praise you thought should have been yours.
what irritated you most was that jay never seemed to notice your rivalry. he was too busy offering you help or giving you his signature polite, bumbling smile. and sometimes, you’d even catch yourself watching him a little too closely, feeling a reluctant warmth for his harmless, good-guy charm.
one afternoon, you wandered over to his desk, smirking as you noticed his usual setup: notebooks organised to the millimetre, a stack of neatly sharpened pencils, and a sticky note that read “be confident!” in his looping handwriting.
he looked up as you approached, adjusting his slightly crooked glasses and giving you a shy smile.
“hey, park,” you began, leaning casually against his desk. “did you remember to double-check the new client report? i know how thorough you like to be.”
jay blinked, his cheeks turning pink. “y-yeah, i went over it twice… just to make sure everything was right.”
“of course you did,” you replied with a playful eye roll. “wouldn’t want our employee of the month slipping up, now would we?”
he smiled, looking down at his notebook. “just doing my best.”
you shook your head, laughing softly. for some reason, you loved seeing him blush, getting him all flustered with a few well-placed jabs. jay was sweet, awkward, and, despite your constant teasing, he never seemed to hold it against you.
but the next week, everything changed.
jay showed up to work that monday looking like a different person. gone were the slightly wrinkled shirts and too-short ties. instead, he wore a fitted, charcoal button-down with the top few buttons undone, revealing a silver chain against his collarbone. his sleeves were rolled up, showing his forearms in a way that made you do a double-take. and he’d traded his old glasses for sleek, dark-rimmed ones that suited him way too well, giving him a smouldering look.
you did a double take as he walked by, giving you a casual, confident nod. “morning,” he said, his voice low and smooth. the bumbling, endearing jay you knew was nowhere to be found.
you shook it off, convincing yourself it was just a fluke. but over the next few days, you couldn’t ignore the transformation.
he traded in his ill-fitting clothes for tailored shirts, stylish watches, and a few artfully unbuttoned collars that showed off his neck and a hint of muscle. it seemed like his glasses had now permanently changed, now sleek and sophisticated, accentuating his jawline in a way that made you, against your better judgement, find yourself staring a little too long.
and it wasn’t just his style—jay’s entire demeanour was different. instead of blushing and stuttering, he’d catch you looking, smirking with a confidence that left you flustered.
one afternoon, you approached him, determined to regain some control of the dynamic. “wow, park,” you said, crossing your arms. “fancy new look. trying to impress someone?”
he looked up, a slow smile spreading across his face. “why? is it working?”
your cheeks heated, but you forced a laugh. “don’t flatter yourself.”
“oh, i don’t need to,” he replied smoothly, leaning back in his chair. “you do a pretty good job of that.”
his words left you speechless, your usual comebacks fizzling as he held your gaze with a smirk. flustered, you turned away, cursing under your breath.
when had park jongseong become… hot?
over the next week, his flirtations continued, growing bolder and more direct. every time you tried to tease him, he’d have a response that left you stumbling. gone was the stammering, geeky coworker you used to playfully bully; in his place was someone who knew exactly how to get under your skin, his newfound confidence throwing you off balance.
but one night after work, things took an unexpected turn.
you’d noticed him acting strange, glancing at his arms as though trying to keep something in check. he slipped out of the office quickly that evening, his face tense, and curiosity got the best of you. you followed him, keeping your distance as he made his way down the street, eventually ducking into a dark alleyway.
hiding behind the corner, you peeked around, pulling out your phone and hitting “record” just in case. what you saw left you speechless.
jay was standing in the middle of the alley, his body tense, his hands clutching his head. dark, inky shadows pulsed along his arms, twisting and curling like tendrils wrapping around him. his posture shifted, his shoulders straightening as the shadows coiled around his body, transforming him into something that was equal parts terrifying and mesmerising.
suddenly, jay let out a deep, guttural growl, his face contorting as sharp, gleaming fangs appeared, his once-soft eyes turning pitch black.
“finally,” a rough, raspy voice rumbled, oozing from jay’s mouth with a sinister excitement. “let’s go for a little… snack.”
a cold chill shot through you as you held up your phone, capturing the whole transformation on video. your heart was racing, but you couldn’t look away. whatever was happening to jay was unlike anything you’d ever seen.
as he turned, his gaze fell on the man who’d appeared in the alley, a figure holding a crowbar, his face twisted in anger. jay’s lips twisted into a wicked grin as he stalked toward the man, his voice dropping into a dark, predatory tone.
“ohhh, you picked the wrong guy to mess with tonight,” the voice sneered, dripping with a twisted glee. “i am going to enjoy this.”
the man froze, his face paling as jay’s shadows coiled around him, binding him in place. jay’s grin widened, his fangs gleaming as he leaned in close.
“run along, before i decide you’d make a nice little snack,” he growled, his voice a terrifying blend of jay’s and something far darker.
the man didn’t hesitate, stumbling away into the shadows. but as jay straightened, his gaze flickered over to you, and his eyes narrowed. in a heartbeat, he was in front of you, his inky black tendrils stretching out to trap you, pinning you against the wall.
you swallowed, trying to keep your breathing steady as he loomed over you, his dark, twisted grin sending a thrill of both fear and fascination through you.
“you… got that on video?” he murmured, his voice back to normal but tinged with a rough edge.
you held up your phone, smirking. “every second of it.”
his eyes flashed with a dangerous glint, and he leaned closer, his face inches from yours. “we could just… eat you, you know. save ourselves a lot of trouble.”
you raised an eyebrow, refusing to back down. “please. you didn’t even eat that guy. there’s no way you’d hurt me.”
he chuckled, the sound low and dark, his gaze flicking over your face. “hmm, true… i like you too much for that.”
the words left you breathless, your heart skipping a beat as you stared up at him, stunned. his face softened, a small, genuine smile replacing the sinister grin.
“so… about that video,” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement.
regaining your composure, you smirked, crossing your arms as best you could with his tendrils pinning you to the wall. “i think i’ll keep it… as insurance. you know, just in case you feel like getting hungry again.”
he tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “so… what, you’re blackmailing me now?”
“exactly,” you replied, your grin widening. “you’re going to help me out with a few things, and i’m going to keep my mouth shut about your… secret.”
jay sighed, the shadows retracting as he released you, though he kept his gaze locked on yours. “fine. but don’t push it.”
you grinned, savouring the thrill of having the upper hand. “deal.”
over the next few weeks, you took full advantage of your “arrangement.” you had him running errands, fixing things around your apartment, and even carrying your heavy boxes at work. gone was the bumbling, geeky jay you’d known, replaced with someone who wielded both power and confidence—and didn’t hesitate to let you know it.
curiosity getting the best of you one day, you found yourself pulling him aside. “so… about your little… transformation,” you began, eyeing him carefully. “is he, like, a shadow monster or something?”
jay’s eyes widened, and he looked genuinely affronted. “shadow monster?” he repeated, crossing his arms. “he’s a symbiote. and he’s got a name, thank you very much.”
you raised an eyebrow. “a symbiote? i mean, he looks pretty shadowy to me.”
jay sighed, clearly unimpressed with your description. “no, he’s not ‘shadowy.’ he’s a sentient being that forms a bond with his host—me. he’s venom,” jay clarified, the name coming out almost reverently, and with a slight glint in his eye.
“oh, i see. so, he’s a person?”
“well, he has his own… opinions,” jay replied, wincing as he paused. “we’re a package deal, so to speak.”
“damn right, a package deal,” a deep, gravelly voice suddenly rumbled from within jay, and you felt a slight chill as the symbiote made its presence known.
you stared, both amazed and slightly unnerved. “oh… hey there, venom.”
venom chuckled, the sound reverberating low and menacing. “hello, sweetheart. i hear you think i’m a 'shadow monster.' "
jay rubbed the back of his neck, looking slightly exasperated, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes as he said, “see? he doesn’t like being called that.”
you smirked, glancing at jay and then back at venom. “got it, venom,” you replied, a teasing lilt to your voice. “no shadow monster remarks. i’ll be sure to remember that.”
that evening, you called him over to help fix a squeaky window in your apartment. when he arrived, his sleeves were rolled up, and those dark tendrils emerged, forming into tools as he worked. you couldn’t help but watch, fascinated as he tightened the screws effortlessly, his movements precise and fluid.
he glanced over his shoulder, catching you staring. “see something you like, darling?” he teased, his voice low, laced with that familiar dark humour.
you scoffed, crossing your arms. “keep dreaming, park.”
jay smirked, his gaze flicking over you with a look that was anything but innocent. “oh, i don’t have to dream.”
your face heated, but before you could respond, he leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “you know, all you have to do is say the word.”
flustered, you quickly turned away, ignoring the smug grin on his face.
one night, as you were heading home from work, you felt someone following you. before you could react, a man grabbed your arm, yanking you into a dark alley. panic surged through you, your heart hammering as you struggled against his grip. but before you could scream, a low, guttural growl echoed from the shadows.
jay emerged from the darkness, his face twisted into a terrifying, fanged grin, his body wrapped in shadows that made him look both monstrous and mesmerising. he moved faster than you’d ever seen, dark tendrils coiling around the man’s arms, pinning him against the wall with a force that made your would-be attacker whimper.
“didn’t anyone tell you?” he snarled, his voice laced with dark satisfaction, his grin widening to show those gleaming fangs. “not to mess with what's ours.”
the man’s face turned ghostly white as he struggled against jay’s grip, terror flooding his eyes. jay’s smirk only grew, his shadowed form tightening its hold as he leaned in close, as if savouring every second of the man’s fear.
“i should just eat you,” jay’s voice growled, laced with menace and barely-concealed delight. “but you’re too pathetic for even a snack.” with a dismissive sneer, he released the man, letting him stumble away in blind terror, tripping over himself as he fled into the night.
when you looked back at jay, his inky tendrils had retracted, his monstrous form dissolving into something closer to the man you knew. yet his eyes still held that dangerous, possessive glint, and his breathing was still heavy, his gaze locked onto you with an intensity that made your pulse race.
“you okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, but with an edge of something raw and wild. his hand moved to rest on your arm, fingers lingering as if to reassure himself you were safe.
you nodded, swallowing as you tried to steady your breathing. “thanks to you…”
a wicked chuckle escaped him, his head tilting as his eyes darkened with a new, eerie glow. you could feel the presence of that “other” entity in him, lurking just beneath the surface. “oh, she’s safe with us,” it rumbled, making your skin prickle. “but i think she owes us something, don’t you, jay?”
jay’s gaze softened for a moment before that twisted smile took over again, his features shifting, the shadows flickering as he allowed his alter ego to take control.
“you really think i owe you?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the thrill that coursed through you.
“absolutely,” jay, or rather venom replied, his grin widening. “we didn’t just save you. we protected what’s ours. and i think a little… reward is in order.”
you arched an eyebrow, unwilling to back down. “and what kind of reward does a shadow monster want?”
jay leaned closer, his breath warm and tinged with something dark. “i have a few ideas.” he chuckled, his sharp fangs glinting in the low light. “but don’t worry, sweetheart. we won’t bite… unless you ask nicely.”
your cheeks flushed despite yourself, but you kept your cool. “i don’t think you’re as scary as you want me to believe,” you teased, meeting his dark gaze. “you wouldn’t hurt me.”
his eyes gleamed with amusement. “oh, i could… but where’s the fun in that?” he tilted his head, observing you with a dark curiosity. “besides… jay likes you too much. and, maybe… so do i.”
the admission left you momentarily breathless, your heart pounding as you stared up at him. just as you were about to respond, his face softened, his gaze flicking to your lips before he leaned in.
without waiting another second, jay captured your mouth in a fierce, consuming kiss. the roughness in his embrace was offset by a possessive tenderness that made you melt, your hands gripping his shirt as he pulled you closer.
when he finally pulled back, his eyes flickered between jay’s gentle warmth and venom’s dark amusement. “so, boss,” he murmured, his voice laced with that familiar, playful edge, “any other tasks?”
with a grin, you pulled him closer, “i think i can come up with a few.”
jay chuckled approvingly, his voice a husky whisper against your ear. “good… because we’re just getting started.”
and with that, he leaned in once more, his mouth claiming yours in a kiss that promised this was only the beginning of a thrilling, dangerous new game.
𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr
˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱
#౨ৎ 𝓐dy writes🪄#en-diaries#enhypen#enhypen imagines#enhypen oneshots#enhypen fics#enhypen x reader#jay#jay park#jay x reader#jay imagines#jay fics#jay oneshots#kpop fics#enhypen royal au#jongseong park#jay enhypen#park jongseong x reader#park jay x reader#venom#venom x reader#venom imagines#marvel au#enhypen marvel au#enhypen venom au
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Best friends can kiss, right? -- PART 1
3:00 AM -- Finding Hope · part 2 · fluff · wc: 792
"I'm so tired," You sigh, watching Riki search for another song on the computer that he's currently sat in front of.
The both of you had spent the last couple of hours together in his personal studio, turning the tight space into a full blown karaoke room. All that you hoped for tonight was that no one would come knocking at the door, considering that Riki already had to sneak you into the company building.
Your body falls backwards against your sofa, yes, your sofa. The tiny, barely-seats-two one that Riki had cramped into the corner of his studio, just so you'd have somewhere to sit, or sleep on, when you'd visit him. You loved that about your best friend the most, his overly thoughtful and sweet nature. To Riki, your comfort and happiness has always been at the top of his priorities list.
Your gaze stays on Riki as you watch him scroll through one of his spotify playlists, your head resting on your arms in which are slumped over an armrest. Eliciting a hum of approval, he finally decides on a song after a few moments. The slow, soft melody that engulfs the space causes your eyes to flutter closed. It was a familiar sound, one of your favorites. You hear your best friend humming along to the tune, the sound of his soft tone further pushing you into a sleepy trace. It's about time the both of you finally took a second to calm down, to breathe.
Baby, it's three AM, had you on my mind...
"Here," A deep voice cuts you out of your trance, you blink your eyes open, "Lean on me, it's comfier,"
You glance over your shoulder towards the direction where the voice was coming from, suddenly finding Riki's body sat beside yours on the little sofa. You give him a small smile as you pick yourself up and off the uncomfortable armrest, you nuzzle yourself into his side. His body's warm, the fabric of his hoodie soft against the skin on your face.
He smells good, too.
"We should probably go home soon," You murmur against him, your eyes closing shut yet again. Who knows what the time must be, though, you're too comfortable and cozy to even care about it at the moment.
"Later," The boy beside you replies, his voice barely above a whisper as his hand snakes its way around to the side of your waist. He pulls you into him.
You nestle closer into Riki, enjoying the warmth of his embrace, and the comfort of his presence. Every other irrelevant thought within your mind fades away as you focus on the soft music playing through the speakers. The feeling of contentment envelops the both of you.
Cause baby, if I find a way, I'm sure of it, this love won't stray...
"..just give me a chance to say I love you, and I need you, now are you here to stay," Riki sings along quietly, his deep voice is as soft and as smooth as a cloud.
Despite the late hour, you have nowhere else that you would rather be than right here.
Wanting you more and more, I can't help but think of what we could be...
Without a single thought behind your actions, the lyrics suddenly cause you to lift your head off him. As you meet Riki's gaze, you find yourself getting lost within his sharp eyes, seeing a reflection of the emotions swirling within your own chest. Neither of you exchange a single word, yet a silent understanding engulfs the space between the both of your bodies, a mutual recognition of something unspoken, yet deeply felt. You feel the weight of the lyrics echoe within your mind, and stomach, in the form of a hundred butterflies.
As you continue to scan your best friend's face, you see a vulnerability in his expression. It's as if he's laying bare his soul before you, offering you a glimpse into his unspoken feelings.
"This feels dangerously intimate," You murmur out of the blue, the sudden seriousness had caused you to almost start feeling awkward. You and Riki were barely ever a serious pair when together, you needed to lighten the mood somehow..
Riki can't help but shake his head over your sudden remark, he lets a chuckle escape his lips. You smile at his heartwarming reaction, yet you can't shake the feeling that had just engulfed you moments prior.
You can't help but realize that perhaps the both of you had been dancing around the edges of something more profound than mere friendship.
"Best friends can kiss, right?"
Your eyes grow wide as Riki catches you completely off guard with his sudden question, your smile drops off your face.
...
Copyright © 2024 riki-dazed. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED | Do NOT edit, copy, translate or repost any of my work without permission.
#enhypen#niki#riki#niki imagines#enhypen imagines#enhypen smut#riki-dazed#enha#enhypen scenarios#enha x reader#enha niki#riki imagines#nishimura riki
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You're not her...
I've been seeing a good bit of fics where the reader is left for another woman and people around them are encouraging it. While I do love a good angst, I would simply pass away. Your girl, Riddle, is weak.
Especially if it's my baby boy Simon.... I can't. I love the idea, but as someone who is an absolute crybaby, I wouldn't survive being reader...
So what if that happened to nurse reader's partner left them for a fellow recruit and when everyone starts being like "good for him", the 141 isn't having any of it?
The others on base seemed honestly happy that your heart had absolutely been broken. I mean, you weren't exactly around him as much as she was. You couldn't see the undeniable chemistry there was. You had tried to put on a brave face. But when John had come in for some ointment for a burn and you were falling apart, he gathered up his boys.
Something needed to be done. A point to prove not just to you or your ex or that woman who had chosen to pursue a very much taken man, but to the hold damn unit. Your ex didn't leave you because there was someone else. He left you because he didn't deserve you in the first place.
In hand to hand, Johnny doesn't hold back. Not only does your ex absolutely get his ass handed to him on the mat over and over again, but does it in front of his new girl and everyone else. How embarrassing. Doesn't exactly help that Kyle is on the sidelines talking so much shit that she begins to get the ick. I mean, could he not honestly win one match? Wonder what that says about a man who can't even hold his own? It even gets cringier when your ex tries to place the blame on the drills from yesterday with a certain Ghost.
Simon is already hard as a lieutenant. But add in the factor that the recruit he currently has running drills is the same recruit who hurt his favorite little nurse? The boy would be lucky to crawl out of there. The second an exercise or drill is not made to absolute perfection, Simon has him running it all over again. It almost
John is already starting the transfer papers the first time he catches your eyes the least bit misty. You don't have to see that rubbish and since the prick and slag couldn't have the decency to wait until he had broken up with you properly instead of telling you that even though he was with you, he had fallen for another woman, then they'll be sent to completely different units. John lists the reason for transfer as a liability. If they were so proud of their "love" before, let them keep that same energy.
And Kyle.... Sweet shit talkin' Kyle. Who plants seeds around the entire base. Nowhere are these two lovebird safe from judgment. All of the female recruits have ostracized their fellow female soldier while receiving lewd looks and calls from the males. I mean if she was easy enough to fuck a taken man, then she must be an easy lay. And here comes Kyle, telling your ex 'man-to-man' about seeing his girl with other officers. Kyle is the most gentle when it comes to the 141. But the motherfucker knows a thing or two about psychological warfare.
After your ex and the girl are suddenly, very mysteriously sent elsewhere, everyone starts flocking to you. Offering reassurances on what a bullet you dodged. How, from what they heard, they had broken up shortly after being relocated to separate bases. The boys see your confidence creep back in. Your smile is a little brighter. A little more pep in your step.
You wouldn't tell anyone how your ex had e-mailed you. Complaining about the new base. Explaining how he had ended things and just wanted you back. How he regretted ever letting her get to him, as if she were the only one at fault for kindling the relationship.
It also didn't help that a certain member of the 141 had come by your station, wondering if you wanted to grab a drink when you were off of your shift.
#simon ghost riley#call of duty#captain john price#kyle gaz garrick#john soap mactavish#angst with a happy ending
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sun makes the day new
it’s not the first time derek has called him during a night out, trying to rope him into joining the fun. the usual calls came with garbled voices passing the phone around, shouting ‘wish you were here!’, ‘just come out!’ and multiple slurred variations of ‘reidddddd’. but derek’s never called for help before.
pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)
genre: fluff
content: bau!reader is drunk! and spencer takes care of her
word count: 3.8k
note: spencer taking care of drunk bau!reader fills a void in me... spencer is reading the olfactory ethics thesis from twitter hahahahhhaha
a line: You’re the only reason he’d ever go—and the only reason he’d ever go unwillingly.
Sun makes the day new. Tiny green plants emerge from earth. Birds are singing the sky into place. There is nowhere else I want to be but here. I lean into the rhythm of your heart to see where it will take us. - joy harjo
It’s not often that Spencer gets a night to himself. Well, he’s used to spending most nights alone, but tonight, he actually has the time to make a cup of tea, to tuck himself under the sheets with a new read, even light the candle Garcia had given him two christmases ago. Nights like these, quiet and uninterrupted, are few and far between.
“This thesis studies how literature registers the importance of olfactory discourse—the language of smell and the olfactory imagination it creates—in structuring our social world. The broad aim of this thesis is to offer an intersectional and wide-ranging study of olfactory oppression by establishing the underlying logics that facilitate smell’s application in creating and subverting gender, class, sexual, racial and species power structures. I focus largely on—”
And then his phone is ringing, cutting through the stillness. With a heavy sigh, he lifts it to his ear begrudgingly, but before he can say anything, pulsating music bursts through the speaker, forcing him to pull it away sharply and fumble with the volume.
“Reid! Hey!” Derek’s voice crackles over the line. “What are you—” your voice cuts in, loud and unmistakably indignant. “Are you calling Spencer—You’d better not be!” “I didn’t! I’m not—Ow!” A muffled struggle follows and then a sharp gasp. “You did! Oh, Derek Morgan, I’m gonna—”
The line cuts off abruptly, leaving Spencer staring at his phone, brow furrowed in confusion. He considers calling Derek back but hesitates, Derek’s a tough guy; he can handle you, even when you’re tipsy. So, he sets the phone down and tries his best to refocus on the article in his lap.
“I focus largely on prose fiction from the modern and contemporary periods so as to trace the legacy of olfactory prejudice into today and situate its contemporary relevance. I suggest that smell very often invokes identity in a way that signifies an individual’s worth and status in an inarguable manner that short-circuits conscious reflection. This can be accounted for by acknowledging olfaction’s strongly—”
But the phone rings again, breaking the distinct quiet of his room. Spencer’s eyes flicker with irritation as he picks it up, this time holding it a safe distance from his ear.
“Can you—Would you get off me—Can you hear me?” The music in the background has faded, indicating that Derek has stepped outside. “Stop! Garcia grab her—Sorry, you there?”
“Still here.” His response is calm but tinged with impatience.
“Listen, we’ve got a bit of a… situation.”
The words immediately put Spencer on edge. It’s not the first time Derek has called him during a night out, trying to rope him into joining the fun. The usual calls came with a mix of laughter, music, and garbled voices passing the phone around, shouting ‘Wish you were here!’, ‘Just come out!’ and, of course, multiple slurred variations of ‘Reidddddd’.
But Derek’s never called for help before.
“How bad is it?”
Spencer hears Derek take a deep breath, as though trying to steady himself before turning back to the phone. “Man, it’s pretty bad.”
“He’s lying Spence,” your slurred voice protests from a distance, teetering between laughter and the edge of a sob, “I’m just—Augh!” comes your muffled reply, followed by a struggle that’s half-heard through the line—something heavy shifting, a soft thud. “I’m just tipsy!” Spencer strains to hear the distant sound of hurried footsteps, heels on pavement. “I got her! I got her!” The clatter of keys and the rustle of fabric echo in the background.
“Sweetie you’re not tipsy, you’re—very intoxicated,” He hears garcia add, worry coloring her words.
“I’d say shit-faced,” Emily chimes in from the background, the amusement in her voice undeniable.
“She’s—” Derek mutters, “She’s pretty messed up, and uh—” He hesitates, the pause stretching into the silence. “She wouldn’t stop asking for you.” There’s an edge of exasperation in his voice. “How soon do you think you can get to 43rd and King Drive?”
This isn’t the first time Spencer’s been dragged out for a night he didn’t want. And it’s certainly not the first time he’s seen you drunk. In fact, if there were a Venn diagram mapping Spencer’s nights out and nights he was reluctantly pulled into, you’d sit squarely in the middle. You’re the only reason he’d ever go—and the only reason he’d ever go unwillingly.
Spencer rubs the bridge of his nose, already standing up, his eyes shut tight as he breathes out a shaky sigh. “I’ll be there in twenty.”
When Spencer pulls up to the address Derek had texted him, the group of you is impossible to miss. Emily is leaning against a lamppost, cradling what Spencer can only hope is her last drink of the night. Derek, propped on a fire hydrant is half-heartedly trying—and failing—to flag down a cab. Meanwhile, Garcia sits on the curb, gently stroking your hair as you rest against her, your eyes half-closed and face flushed.
“What did she have?” Spencer demands as he steps out of the car.
Derek, standing a few feet away, immediately tilts his head toward Emily, as though absolving himself of any blame. “Ask that one.”
Spencer’s eyes narrow as they land on Emily. She meets his stare with a guilty look. “Vodka, tequila, … a couple shots.”
“How many?” Spencer asks, countering her.
“I uh, lost count.”
Spencer blinks, momentarily speechless.
“Bar was half off,” Emily shrugs, as if that explained everything.
With a sigh, Spencer shakes his head and crouches down beside you, his focus now entirely on your slumped form. His gaze softens as he takes in your flushed face and half-lidded eyes. You stir faintly, murmuring something incoherent as he brushes a stray strand of hair from your forehead.
“She’s been this way for the past fifteen minutes,” Garcia says softly, her concern evident. “Poor thing, all that running must have really worn her out.” She pauses, a hint of disbelief slipping into her voice. “Y’know, I never would’ve guessed she’d be a running drunk.”
“Didn’t take her for a scratcher, either,” Derek chimes in, rubbing at a red mark on his neck. “Damn, the girl’s got claws.”
If he weren’t so worried, Spencer might have chuckled and launched into an explanation about the statistics behind why some people bolt when they’re drunk. He’d looked it up after the time he’d had to chase you down during your birthday last year, the last one left standing to wrangle you back home. But right now, there’s no room for humour.
Kneeling beside you, Spencer places a steadying hand on your shoulder. His voice drops low, calm and gentle. “Hey, can you hear me?” Your eyelids flutter weakly, a faint groan slipping past your lips as you lean ever so slightly into his hand. It’s enough to give him a sliver of reassurance, though not much.
“She’s definitely gonna feel that in the morning,” Derek chuckles faintly, stepping closer.
“Not helping, Morgan,” Spencer deadpans, his tone heavy with dry exhaustion. “Has she, you know—?” He makes a vague gesture, his meaning clear.
Emily jerks her thumb toward a couple of lampposts down. “Mhm. Barely made it out.”
Spencer follows the direction of her gesture, catching sight of a dark puddle by the door glistening faintly under the streetlight. He swallows hard, grimacing. “Right. That’s—That’s good.”
He adjusts his grip on your arm, bracing himself as he turns to Derek. “Help me get her to the car,” Derek nods, crouching down to take your other arm. “On three,” he murmurs, and together they hoist you up with practiced care. Your body is limp but pliable, your head rolling slightly as they steady you between them.
The motion stirs you, your eyes fluttering open as an irritated groan escapes your lips. “Stoppp—I can walk, I can—Morgan let go!”
“It’s me—Hey,” Spencer says, his voice calm but tinged with urgency. “It’s just me.”
“Spence?” The word is slurred, fragile.
Spencer’s heart clenches at the sound, his frustration momentarily giving way to something softer. “Yeah, sweetheart,” he replies, his voice low and steady. “I’m here. We’re getting you home.”
As the word slips out, he catches Derek’s eyebrow arching in his peripheral vision, the silent question practically radiating off him. Spencer doesn’t falter, his sharp, no-nonsense stare meeting Derek’s head-on. It’s enough to make Derek quickly avert his gaze, holding back whatever teasing remark had undoubtedly been forming on his lips.
You and Spencer weren’t together. But you weren’t not together either. Whatever it was, it wasn’t in any way that people could put a label on. Unspoken yet undeniable. It wasn’t something you or Spencer were particularly adept at explaining either, nor was it something Spencer felt the need to justify, not to Derek, and especially not now.
Your head lolls slightly against Spencer’s shoulder as they guide you forward, your weight shifting unsteadily between him and Derek. In Spencer’s presence, your expression visibly softens, sharp tongue giving way to sugar-coated phrases, the tension in your body melting away. It’s a stark contrast to the wild, uncooperative runner and scratcher the other three had described and had very obviously struggled to contain.
“You’re so nice, honey,” you mumble, your words slurred but filled with earnest sincerity. “Always so nice.”
“Definitely could’ve used your help thirty minutes ago,” Derek quips sarcastically.
“I was reading—trying to.” The annoyance clings to Spencer’s words.
“Right,” Derek lets out a low chuckle, “of course you were.”
“Seeeee!” You fawn, “Isn’t he the nicest?” You pause for a moment, your head tilting as if considering something profound. “And so handsome. Very nice and very handsome. The nicest and the handsomest,” you muse, your tone dreamy and matter-of-fact.
Derek snorts, his grip on your arm steady. “Don’t start,” Spencer mutters, his voice dry but tinged with something softer. The faintest pink creeps up his neck as you lean into him, your head pressing against his shoulder, seeking the comfort only he seems to provide.
It’s a chaotic tangle of limbs, with Derek flinching when your hand swings a little too close to his face—again. But they manage to get you settled into the passenger seat. As Spencer leans over to fasten your seatbelt, Derek leans against the hood of the car, smirking, “You know, Reid, maybe it’s time to retire pretty boy. Honey has a nicer ring to it, don’t you think?”
“I dunno, I prefer sweetheart,” Emily quips, her tone syrupy and teasing. “It’s got that rustic charm,” she drawls, throwing in an exaggerated wink for good measure.
Spencer rolls his eyes as he slides into the car, the door closing behind him. He hesitates, casting a quick glance at the others. “You guys… you have a ride back right?”
“Aw, would you look at that? The perfect gentleman. A one-stop kind of guy.” Garcia teases, mischief in her eyes.
“More like a one-woman kind of guy,” Derek says under his breath—Just loud enough for everyone to hear. It earns him a playful swat on the arm from Garcia.
Spencer’s face turns a deep shade of pink as he stumbles over his words. “That’s not... that’s not what I meant,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “I could—”
“Relax, Reid,” Emily interjects, gesturing toward the passenger seat. “Go get her home. We’ll figure ourselves out.” Spencer nods quickly, grateful for the out, though his ears are still burning as he starts the engine, determined not to look back at their knowing smiles.
The first time you brought Spencer to your apartment, you’d warned him about the stairs. He’d laughed it off, dismissing your concern with a grin, saying the three-flight walk-up wasn’t so bad—it added character, a touch of history to the building. “Besides,” he’d added, “did you know that having stairs in apartments likely means the building predates the widespread use of elevators which wasn’t all that common in residential construction until after Elisha Otis introduced his safety elevator in 1854?”
But now, hauling you up those very same stairs, Spencer is sweaty, out of breath, and cursing whoever thought a three-story walk-up in a brownstone was a good idea.
“One more step, just one more—there you go, sweetheart,” he says through gritted teeth, practically dragging you up those last few steps. “Now, where are your keys?” He pats your bag as he speaks, more to himself than to you.
“My—hiccup—my keys are—hiccup—in there,” you slur, pointing vaguely at the bag he’s already rifling through.
When the door finally swings open with a shove that’s harder than Spencer intended, it bangs against the wall, making both of you jump. You lurch forward, your balance teetering precariously, but Spencer is quicker, his arm darting out to catch you before you can topple over.
“Whoa, easy,” he says, his tone gentle but firm as he steadies you, his hand lingering at your waist to make sure you’re upright.
You hum in response, barely acknowledging his effort as you shrug off his support and make a beeline for the bedroom. Your steps are uneven, your movements sluggish, and before you can collapse face-first onto the bed, Spencer steps in again, catching you mid-fall.
“Uh-uh,” he chides as he props you back up. “How about we change before we dive into our nice, warm bed, huh?”
You blink at him, swaying slightly as you process his words. “Mm. Warm. I like warm.” You pause, and then, as if hit by divine inspiration, you blurt out, “Soup. I want soup.”
“Soup?” Spencer echoes, a hint of exasperation creeping into his tone. “No soup, honey. Not right now,” he says, heading toward the bathroom to grab a makeup wipe. But before he can make it two steps, your bottom lip begins to tremble, tears pooling in your eyes.
“But… I,” you whisper, your voice cracking, “I really really want soup.”
Spencer freezes, his defences crumbling in an instant as he sees a single tear spills over, streaking your cheek. Oh, how could he ever say no to you?
“Oh, baby, no, don’t cry,” he murmurs, rushing back to you, crouching slightly to meet your gaze. He cups your face gently, his thumbs brushing away any other tears that threaten to fall. “Okay, okay. I’ll make you soup, alright? Just... let me take care of you first, yeah?”
Sniffling, you nod, your tears beginning to subside. “And then soup?” you ask softly, your voice small but hopeful.
Spencer’s lips curve into a gentle smile as he brushes a stray tear from your cheek. “Yeah, baby. And then soup. Whatever you want,” he murmurs, his tone warm and reassuring. Spencer knows deep down that you don’t actually want or need soup—it’s just the fixation of the moment in your drunken haze. Still, he decides to play along for now, hoping that with time, the thought will slip from your mind.
Carefully, he helps you out of your clothes, his hands steady and patient as he guides you into one of his soft, oversized shirts. You mumble something slurred and incoherent about how impossibly comfy it is, and his lips twitch into a fond smile. “Yeah honey, you’re right,” he humours you, adjusting the hem gently, “Fabric softener really does work wonders, doesn’t it?”
Spencer reaches for a makeup wipe from your vanity, his movements gentle as he starts to carefully remove the smudged remnants of mascara under your eyes. His eyes nearly pop out of his head when he sees one of your lashes come loose, but then he remembers you’d mentioned wearing false lashes on nights out. Right, that makes sense.
After two makeup wipes—both stained with hues of browns, pinks and purples, smudged from your makeup—he lifts your limp head, checking for any remaining traces. Your doe eyes blink up at him, looking soft and pretty, but there's an obvious blankness behind them as you babble on about how handsome he is.
You’d once talked about something you watched on double cleansing, or was it triple? Better safe than sorry, he thinks grabbing another wipe to be sure. Once he’s satisfied, he sets the wipe down and brushes your hair back from your face. “There we go,” he murmurs soothingly, brushing your hair back from your face. “All done,” he says, his voice soft as a lullaby.
You smile drips with affection as you look back up at him, and for a brief, blissful moment, he thinks the ordeal is over. Then you whisper:
“Soup?”
Spencer’s face falls, a mix of exasperation and reluctant affection washing over him. “Soup,” he repeats, more to himself than to you. He sighs, but when he looks down at your earnest, pleading face, his resolve crumbles all over again. “Okay, honey,” he relents, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’ll make you soup. You stay right here, alright?”
“M’kay,” you murmur, along with something incoherent, obediently crawling under the covers as Spencer tucks you in. And then you’re out like a light.
When you wake up the next morning, the first thing that hits you is the dull, relentless throb behind your eyes. The second is how heavy your body feels, limbs weighed down like lead, and you find yourself wincing as you shift under the tangled sheets. You’re not sure how you got home, you don’t know why your feet hurt so much either. And is that blood under your nails? You groan, clutching your temples in a futile attempt to block out the unanswered questions. Right now, all you know is that you need water. Desperately.
A sharp ache runs down your spine as you sit up, and you reach blindly for the water bottle on your nightstand. Your hand fumbles over the plastic, knocking it to the floor with a soft thud, and the sound only amplifies the pounding in your head.
“Hey, you alright there?”, Spencer calls out.
The unexpected voice startles you so much that you let out a sharp scream, immediately regretting it as the noise rebounds inside your aching head. “Ah! Jesus, Spence, you scared me!” you groan, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes.
Spencer’s face, which had been etched with concern, softens into a sheepish smile. He’s sitting in the chair by your bedroom door, a book resting on his knee, clearly having been there for a while. “Sorry, honey,” he says softly, closing the book and setting it aside. “I was just... keeping an eye on you.”
You blink at him, still trying to piece together why he’s even here. “Keeping an eye on me?” you ask, your voice hoarse and thick with confusion.
“You were... a little out of it last night,” Spencer explains gently, standing up and moving to pick up the water bottle that had fallen to the floor. He twists the cap open and hands it to you, his fingers brushing yours for just a moment, steadying your hand.
You take a cautious sip, the cool water soothing your parched throat. “Last night? But you—you weren’t even there.” You frown, trying to piece the fragmented memories together. There was Derek, Emily, Garcia, shots, that weird guy who kept staring at you, more shots... Were you really that drunk? No, you definitely would’ve noticed if Spencer had been there, right?
Spencer’s smile is small, almost apologetic, as he moves to sit on the edge of your bed, his voice soft but direct. “Let’s just say you’re pretty good at keeping everyone on their toes. And, uh, backup was needed.”
“That bad, huh?” you murmur. “What did I do?”
It’s kind of more like what didn’t you do? Spencer thinks but keeps it to himself. He hesitates for a moment, as if he’s deciding how much to tell you, then speaks carefully. “I think it’s safe to say Morgan’s not exactly thrilled about the scratch marks.” He can’t help the small laugh that escapes, but it’s more for reassurance than amusement.
“Oh, god.” You groan and bury your face in your hands, the embarrassment rising in your chest.
Spencer gently rubs reassuring circles on your knee, steady and soothing as he tries to ease the tension evident in your face. “You were... spirited,” he offers diplomatically. “Nothing unfixable. Besides, I’ve seen worse.”
You peek at him through your fingers, surprised by how calm he seems despite everything. “I’m so sorry, Spence,” you say, your voice muffled by your hands. “Did I ruin your night?”
He shrugs with a small, reassuring smile. “Not at all. Kind of hard to be mad after you called me ‘very nice and very handsome’ at least three times.”
You groan again, your cheeks burning as you down another sip of water. Spencer chuckles softly, the sound light and comforting.
“How’s your head?” he asks, his voice gentle with concern, though the answer is clear.
A groan.
“Aw, honey,” he coos sympathetically, his arms opening wide in invitation. “C’mere.”
Too drained to move, you opt for flopping forward into his lap instead, your body feeling heavy and sluggish. Spencer’s hands immediately go to your hair, stroking it gently, his touch soothing. “Hurts, huh?” he murmurs softly.
You whine in agreement, your head resting against him as you let his fingers work through your tangled hair. He chuckles lightly, a sound that brings some small relief. “You hungry?” he asks, his voice still filled with concern, though it’s laced with a hint of casual care.
Another mewl escapes you, the idea of food nearly as unappealing as your pounding headache.
“You need electrolytes, honey,” Spencer suggests gently, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “We’ve gotta get something in you.”
You peek out from the mess of your hair, an eyebrow quirked as you attempt a teasing smile. “So forward, Doctor Reid,” you try to joke, your voice sluggish. “At least buy me dinner first.”
“You know what I mean,” Spencer says as he jokingly swats your arm.
You huff softly, your eyelids barely staying open. “Can’t move,” you mumble, curling further into his lap, trying to escape the weight of your headache. “Don’t make me move.”
Spencer chuckles quietly, his fingers gently tracing the line of your hair as he speaks. "You've gotta move at some point, sweetheart."
You whine in protest, your body too exhausted to even think of standing. "An hour?"
"I'll give you 10 minutes," he counters.
"40?" you bargain weakly, lifting your head just enough to look at him through half-lidded eyes.
"20," he shoots back.
You think for a moment, the numbers swirling in your hazy mind. "30?"
Spencer's grin widens, body moving as you gently tug him closer. "Fine," he relents with a soft sigh. "But only because you called me handsome that fourth time." You roll your eyes as you shift to make space for him.
He slides onto the bed beside you, his body pressing against yours as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into the comfort of his warmth. Your head rests on his chest as he tucks you in closer, his fingers running soothingly along your arm.
"Hey, Spence?"
"Hm?"
"Why’s there a bowl of soup on my dresser?"
⋆✴︎˚。⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!
#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#Spencer Reid masterlist#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid imagine#spencer x reader#spencer x self insert#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x reader angst#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x reader fluff
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Scruffy Man//Logan Howlett boyfriend Head Canons
👽:my favorite old man frfr 😪 (not proof read)
SFW💛
★ Logan is fiercely protective of you, sometimes it can border on overbearing…If he senses danger just know he’s quick to step in without hesitation. “Just—stay close to me alright?” “I don’t care if it’s just a noise, stay behind me. I’ll check it out.”
★ This man is rough and rugged, always. But only you get to see his softer, more vulnerable side. Especially during quiet moments (aka when wade’s not home)
★ “Don’t go paradin’ this to the entire city now, but you’re my favorite person on this god forsaken planet.” He’ll murmur while bringing your hand up to his lips.
★ Logan is loyal to a FAULT! Once he commits, that’s it. He’s all in whether you like it or not. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right here with you. Don’t think for a second I’d ever leave.” His loyalty runs deep and he’ll stand by you no matter the circumstances or the cost.
★ Peanut isn’t big on flowery words or poetry. But his love for you is shown through touch—rough bear hugs, protective hand holding, or giving you forehead kisses.
★ Again, rather than words this man expresses his love for you with his actions. “C’mere…” he mutters, pulling you into a hug that’s as secure as it is slightly crushing…
★ Fixing things around the house, cooking a simple, hearty meal. He tends to your wounds and pampers you when needed.
★ Logan’s temper flares if he feels like someone is crossing a line with you. “This guy botherin’ you?” He’ll ask cocking a brow, eyes narrowing as he sizes up the situation.
★ He’s got a dry, sarcastic sense of humor. Always expect sharp, quick witted one liners. “You’re late.” You’ll say, hand on hip. Smirking, he’ll reply some shit like “Time’s a human construct, babe.”
★ For someone who holds a gruff and rough exterior, he’s surprisingly a good cuddler. He’ll pull you close without a word, “Didn’t know I needed this til now.” He’ll smirk, relishing the warmth you provide.
★ Logan is the type of boyfriend who will stare at you when you’re not looking. His gaze can vary from intense affection to slight sadness. Sometimes he’ll reflect on the fear of losing you when he get’s lost in his admiration…
★ “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” You’ll ask whenever catching his stare. He just shakes his head slightly. “Just…takin’ it all in.”
★ Not one for fancy dates, he’ll plan out more low-key, intimate activities like camping in the woods, hiking together, or road trips on his motorcycle.
★ “I know a spot a few miles out. Stars are brighter there. Thought we could use the peace tonight.”
★ He has the absolute BEST stories. He shares stories behind his scars, memories from his long life during intimate moments. “This one?” He traces the mark up his arm. “Happened back in ‘78. Remind me to tell you about it when we get more whiskey.”
★ Whenever you’re feeling sad, or down, Logan knows how to be there, how to be present without speaking. “You don’t have to talk if you’re not ready. I’m here for ya…” He’ll sit beside you, offering you silent support and reassurance by giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze.
★ Sure, he’s blunt and straightforward. But with you, he’s also soft spoken. “I love you” “How did I get so lucky?” “You gonna let me hold you already or what?”
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶
NSFW💦🤭
★ He’ll never admit it, (he will) but he thinks it’s totally hot when you take control. Mostly because it’s a rare treat when you decide to do so. “Alright, alright. I’m sat.” “I love it when you get aggressive.”
★ He’s an experienced man. Who knows what he wants and exactly how to get it. “Mhmm—just like that…” “god damn baby…” “that’s right~”
★ Man’s got stamina for days. I’m talking about round after round. He’s down as long as you are.
★ “Oh, come on princess, I know you can take it a little longer.” He smiles, pounding into you relentlessly, his hand on the back of your head while pushing your face into the pillows.
★ Logan is rough around the edges…so of course you’re in for some rough treatment during freaky deaky time. “Quit squirmin’ and take it.” He grunts, pinning your wrists above your head, drilling into you with quick, harsh thrusts.
★ “God damn you’re snug.” He says, smacking your ass harshly while wrapping your hair around his free hand, pulling your head back as he sets a brutal pace.
★ Logan loves marking your skin during intimacy. Biting your shoulders. Nuzzling into the crook of your neck, sucking and leaving dark marks along the column of your delicate skin while soothing each sting with a tender kiss.
★ “look at you.” Logan coos, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “All beat up and tired. We haven’t even started yet.”
★ Gets off from overstimulating you with his cock. Rolling his hips against yours, slowly and agonizingly after making you cum several times already. Smirking while splitting you open. Using zero effort while your hands fist into the sheets. Legs trembling and a sheen of sweat on your forehead.
★ “Gonna make you walk crooked—fuck you til you’re beggin’ me to stop. Then keep goin’ til I get my fill. How’s that sound?” He teases, rubbing the tip of his cock against your buzzing, numb cunt before slamming into you without another word.
★ Loves it when you get on your knees for him. “Atta girl. Now, open up for me.” He commands gently, fisting your hair up into a ponytail for you. (Or just gripping your melon if you have short hair)
★ He’s not going to fuck your face unless you ask him to. Usually letting you set your own pace when you’re tasting him. Keeping your hair out of the way while praising you.
★ “Take it all baby..” “perfect.” “You’re damn good at thi—s aren’t you?” “Swallow for me…” his grip will tighten in your hair (or not) as you bob your head up and down his shaft. Feeling his cock throb in your hot mouth before spewing thick, white ropes down your throat.
★ He low key likes thigh riding. Like…a lot. It seriously is one of his favorite ways to make you a whimpering, whining mess.
★ “Fuck, you’re doing so good—” He’ll praise you, hands sliding up and down your sides before firmly gripping your hips, grinding you harder against his thigh. “You like that?”
★ After care…Logan knows his way around the block when it comes to pampering the love of his life. Especially after fucking you senseless.
★ Has a habit of getting too rough with you sometimes. Happens to the best of us, right? “Let me see those marks…” he’ll whisper, tracing over your skin with his finger tips.
★ “You alright?” “Still with me, sweetheart?” “just relax, that’s right. Let me take care of you.” “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” “C’mere, let me hold you”
★ Massaging your back, getting you a drink, cleaning you up and getting you a fresh set of clothing, running a bubble bath or shower. Whatever works best in the moment for you, he’ll do it.
#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#old man logan#i love old men#i have daddy issues#rainyworx#headcanon#logan howlett#logan wolverine#logan x reader#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool 3#the worst wolverine#ik it’s not like OLD MAN LOGAN but the man is old and he is named Logan so….#click4rainy
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an. another ex-husband gojo fic because i'll die with this trope. this ends exactly how you'd expect (if you know me)
Satoru doesn’t take it well when you tell him you have a boyfriend after bumping into him in the grocery store parking lot. At least, you don’t think he does. It’s hard to tell, his expression inscrutable as ever behind his dark sunglasses—the sharp arch of his brow the only indication he’s heard you at all.
“Is that so?” he finally says, and for some reason, it makes you nervous. Has you grasping at straws to make something right that isn’t even wrong yet. Has any thought of this being an easy conversation shattered at your feet.
You clear your throat. “Yeah…he’s nice. You might even like him.”
No, he wouldn’t—a little voice in the back of your head tells you. Knowing it's because all of the unreadable parts of you are no longer connected to him, but instead to a man you've barely spent two months dating, and that must infuriate him.
He doesn’t ask (not that you expect him to) when you find yourself prattling on about how you met Rin through a friend, how he’s an investment banker and takes you out to his cabin on the weekends, that he’s predictable—stable is what you really mean, but don't say—with an ordinary life who wants kids—
Satoru seems to chew on that last bit of information like he’s suddenly tasted something unpleasant, the line of his brow flat and unimpressed, the slant in his mouth mutinous. He’s uttered all but three words, and so far, this entire conversation leaves you with nothing short of a stomach ache.
“He really is a good person,” you add, just because you have nothing else to say and your penchant for filling awkward, empty spaces.
Then he smiles, and you relax a little. “That’s good. I’m happy for you.”
You smile, too, a soft, sure thing this time that makes his widen.
But if you'd been more level-headed and less flustered about bumping into your ex-husband after several months of silence—since he signed his name beside yours in front of your lawyer—you’d realize how dangerous that smile is.
You’re unsure if it’s too contingent to be considered a coincidence, but he starts showing up in odd places after that all-too-uncomfortable one-sided conversation in the parking lot.
First, it’s at your favorite coffee shop you usually stop at on your way to work. It’s strange because you remember him hating coffee, how he'd always preferred to load it with creamer and sweetener just to get rid of the bitter taste. But you don’t mention it when he offers—no, insists on paying for your coffee and blueberry streusel muffin.
When the total pops up on the register, he doesn’t even blink when he opens his wallet.
Of course, you can't let him pay. There must be something in writing somewhere that says ex-husbands shouldn't pay for their recently divorced ex-wife's coffee.
He shrugs, smiling, after you tell him it’s expensive—has that ever bothered me?—and slides a shiny black card across the counter to the barista.
“You can't show up out of nowhere and start buying me things,” you hiss afterward, slightly flustered by the whole ordeal. The city’s big, but you still worry about one of your friends or colleagues seeing you with Satoru—they may get the wrong idea. “We’re not together anymore.”
"Do I have to message you the next time I want to get you coffee?" he tucks his hands into his coat.
"No, we shouldn't even be getting coffee together."
“Am I not allowed to be nice now that you have a boyfriend?”
“That’s not what I said,” you huff. “And you didn’t even buy yourself anything. How am I supposed to look at it?”
He shrugs, “I decided I didn’t want anything,” and you don't even think he notices that he holds your hand when you go to cross the street.
Habit. You'll write that one off as a habit, but he doesn't let go until you're in front of the tall, shiny doors of your office building.
The second time he shows up unannounced is while you're walking through the quaint park near your apartment, which you know is far from his sleek penthouse on 5th Avenue, the one with a perfect view of the city and the bay—a thirty-minute drive, at least.
“I bought a house out here,” he tells you when you ask. “It’s up on the hill.”
You know which one he’s talking about. You’ve driven past it a few times. It's a cozy brick stone with lots of windows, a white picket fence, and a large backyard, something you’ve always wanted since before you were married. According to a real estate website, his house is a little over a million.
Interest must be written all over your face because he asks: “You want to see it?”
There are a number of reasons why you shouldn’t say yes, why you should politely decline and finish your last lap along the trail and run to the grocery store afterward to pick up something for dinner and call Rin to let him hear about your day—
“Okay,” you say, hands on your hips. “But make it quick.”
He smiles down at you, eyes crinkling at the corners with something akin to affection. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”
You open your mouth to remind him, again, that you’re not together, so he’s not allowed to use pet names, but a large hand on the small of your back to usher you towards the shiny, sleek SUV across the street leaves you with a mouth full of cotton.
He watches you take in the hardwood floors and tall ceilings trimmed with crown molding. When you stop in the massive kitchen to run your fingers over the granite countertops, it almost feels bittersweet walking through the house of your dreams while your ex-husband eyes you questioningly as if he's looking for your approval.
“So? What do you think?”
The smile you give him is genuine. “It’s beautiful.”
Satoru matches your smile with a bigger one, almost blinding. “That’s good, that’s really good.”
You feel like you should ask why he bought a house this big in the first place, but there’s a pebble in your stomach if you think about family photos on the walls with him happy and smiling, his arm around a pretty wife who wears frilly aprons and kisses him on the cheek when he comes home. A future where you don’t exist, yet he’s letting you take a peak into it, anyway.
So you don’t say anything.
You meant to leave an hour ago, but he plied you with dinner— friends can have dinner together, can’t they? —which leads to two glasses of wine and then watching movies together on his very soft couch. If everything didn't feel so fuzzy around the edges, you probably would have noticed the signs sooner, that he’s trying to—
(He presses you into the couch cushions, biting marks into your neck and chest until your breaths come out fast and high-pitched.
“We shouldn’t,” you manage to say, still tipsy and tongue heavy in your mouth from the wine you had. "Toru, I should really go."
He huffs a laugh against your cheek—you note how he still wears the same cologne you bought him all those years ago when everything was so new, and there wasn't a ring on your finger yet—pressing a messy kiss there that makes you squirm. “Doesn’t this remind you of old times, though?”
“B-but I have a boyfriend.”
In retaliation, he sinks his teeth into the tender flesh around the fluttering pulse in your neck, just shy of too rough, though your fingers in his hair pull him into you like you can’t get enough.)
That maybe this means he—
(Satoru bunches the lace of your panties in his fist, shoving them up around your knees, trapping your legs together against your chest. A long, drawn-out groan rumbles in his chest at discovering the creamy mess between your thighs. “Always had such a pretty wet pussy, fuck. Do you get this wet for him, too?”
“Shut up.”
He laughs because he hears what you don’t say: No, you’ve never been this turned on when it’s with Rin. Satoru’s the only one to ever leave you wet and shaky just from a few words.)
It’s an insane thought, but it’s almost like Satoru—
(He holds his hand up to your mouth, telling you to lick before he wraps it around his cock, pressing the tip into the slick seam of your cunt. And you forgot how big he is, just on the side of too much, the bit of effort it takes for him to sink in a little, and then all at once, rending you right down the middle.
You whimper, fingers scrabbling clumsily for one of the throw pillows near your head, needing something to hold on to.
“There you go, pretty girl,” Gojo breathes, hips tight and close, grinding into you so that you can feel how deep he is. “I see she can still take it.”)
No, he wouldn’t—
(He fucks you hard enough to send you skittering up the couch, only to pull you back down again, grinding you on his cock to touch places inside you that he’s only ever managed to reach. You whine into where your face is pressed against the back cushions, biting down to muffle how loud you’re being.
He makes a displeased sound and forces you to look at him again with his fingers digging into your cheeks.
"What if I give you a little baby, huh? We'll be a family together. You, me, and our baby in this big house. Doesn't that sound nice? We'll fill the house with babies," he mutters, bending down to suck a nipple into his mouth, forcing your legs further against your chest.
The angle rubs just right inside you. You make an unintelligible noise at the back of your throat, unable to move or get better friction in this position.
“We did it your way last time, didn’t we, baby?” his little laugh is breathless, kind of mean. “I let you leave with all those silly thoughts in your head; thought you knew what you wanted, but now we’re going to do it my way from now on.”
His words should strike alarm bells, but when he fits his hand between your bodies to strum his thumb against your clit, your mind empties.
"You've always been mine." Words barely audible, he still sounds breathless; wrecked. "It's about time you get that through your head.")
Except you know he would.
A month later, you’re packing away the fine china in your apartment, wondering how the few things you own will fill a house so large.
#.things i write#gojo smut#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo imagine#jjk x you#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk drabbles#fem!reader#gojo satoru
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SV scenario where Shen Jiu is also Shen Yuan's Meimei.
Trans egg SJ never got to examine her gender identity very much in her first life. What with all the enslavement, abuse (given as well as received), misunderstandings, betrayals, dismemberment, and death, there was far too much for her to ever come to terms with a set of concepts she'd never really had the luxury to entertain. By the time Shen Jiu was a peak lord, the Shen Qingqiu persona was locked in, and any dreams of a different life or inclinations to the contrary of her role were ruthlessly quashed by SJ herself.
But when SJ finally dies and her soul is free to reincarnate (taking a few more memories than usual along for the ride), she has mixed feelings about being born as the youngest daughter of a wealthy family.
The mixed feelings don't actually last long, though after a while she starts to wonder why the fates would grant her a reprieve? Maybe remembering her past life is her punishment, because it's certainly the worst part of her new situation. Her parents are indulgent, her older brothers all dote on her and spoil her, and when she tests limits she's only gently rebuked if she gets rebuked at all. Not only is she allowed to wear fine dresses and look pretty, she's expected to (actually the expectation does chafe, a bit). But even when she uses foul language, skips classes, reads controversial books, and commits myriad other tiny rebellions, no real retribution ever comes of it.
Even despite everything, after some years Shen Jiu starts to become... not complacent, but perhaps calmer would be a better description. She has a stable future handed to her on a silver platter. Very few things remind her of her past, either. She can read books about snotty highborn lords getting railed by werewolves as readily as classics of literature or academic papers on science, business, culture, politics, or whatever else takes her fancy. Her family doesn't even put demands on her to marry, despite some of her mother's hints in that direction. For the first time, Shen Jiu has a life where it seems like she can't fail, she can only succeed however much she wants to. It's like having nowhere to go but up, except without the part about hitting rock bottom.
A foolish set of assumptions, in the end. There's always something to lose.
When Shen Yuan suddenly dies, Shen Jiu recognizes the sinister hand of the same entity which oversaw her own reincarnation. One which had visited her dreams quite recently, trying to tempt her back to her first life with offers of being able to change the past. It wasn't even difficult to deny it. Shen Jiu doesn't believe she could change what happened, and she doesn't really want to try. Her one regret is what happened to that person, the one who died so horribly while rushing to her rescue, and even that, she doesn't know how she would change (because she still doesn't know why he bothered in the first place).
But how dare the System God take the silliest and softest of her brothers to try and fix her accursed first life?! Luo Binghe will eat him alive! Cang Qiong will mistake him for a demon or a madman or worse, and throw him into some cell somewhere, if they don't just kill him outright!
Shen Meimei tries to negotiate with the System, but it tells her the window of opportunity for her to go back instead has passed. Smarmy piece of shit. There's nothing she can do without supernatural help, however, except bide her time and wait for another "window of opportunity". It's in the midst of this that she discovers PIDW, and its (terrible) account not only of the broad strokes of her first life and death, but of what came afterwards. That little beast really wrecked the world, huh? And all those women, too. She's never been more grateful to have not figured herself out in her first life. But at least with access to this information, she can try and prepare more. (She's suspicious of who actually wrote this account as well -- is Luo Binghe himself in this world? Better to leave it now, in that case, before he inevitably makes another bid for power and destroys everything in his wake all over again!)
When the System finally gives her an opportunity to go back (as herself, or rather "Bonus Epilogue Side Character -- Shen Qingqiu's Mysterious Little Sister!") she is braced for any number of outcomes. Shen Yuan could be dead. He could be imprisoned. He could have had his limbs all cut off. He could be stuffed into a pickle jar. He could be hiding or on the run somewhere. Hopefully, he'll be hiding behind that person, confused and distraught but still intact thanks to the sect leader's guilt-driven sense of obligation. Most likely if the same number of years have passed since Shen Yuan "left", he's already been destroyed by Luo Binghe and all Shen Jiu will be able to do is avenge him. But she has some ideas of how to kill the beast, so, she will.
Of course, what she finds is nothing she expected, and almost even worse.
Luo Binghe married her brother?!
Death is too good for him! Shen Jiu's going to skin him alive!!!
#svsss#scum villain#scum villain's self saving system#bingiqu#qijiu bonus: former single-target sexuality self-presumed gay man yue qingyuan experiences attraction to a woman and is ??? about it
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Vi x Reader
Vi has attachement issues and needs a hug.
A/N: get ready for me to write a whole bunch about attachment issues Vi. She just needs a BREEEAAKKK
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You sat quietly on your makeshift bed in your dust filled room as you looked up at the ceiling. Finding a house in such a place as Zaun was no easy feat, so of course it wasn’t glimmering with a pristine shine. It was all you had and that was enough for you.
Well, it wasn’t ALL you had. There was another room attached to the apartment that you happened to find that you shared with someone else.
Your friend Vi.
It had been left unused for a while, but once you found out she had been let out of jail and had nowhere else to go, you offered your place without a second thought. Vi, hellbent on insisting she doesn’t need help, declined at first. However, upon realizing that a lot had changed since she had been arrested she soon came back and took you up on your offer.
You two had been great friends when you were younger but now there was a sort of shift between you. Nothing too unexpected though, she had been away for god knows how long, of course things wouldn’t immediately go back to the way they were. But part of you wished it would.
Despite the fact that you two lived together, you rarely ever talked. Not because of any one particular reason, but mainly because it just felt awkward too. You didn’t want to ask about what had happened to her when she left, you heard what you needed to about the incident through general gossip and word of mouth. Vi, on the other hand, seemed like she had things she wanted to ask you as well, but she always pushed it off for some reason.
You continued to stare at the ceiling above before pushing off the bed and leaning on your arms. You hadn’t done anything productive by this point so you decided to change that. With one swift push, you were standing on your feet in front of a cracked wall that seemed stained with smoke and water damage. A staple of the lives of those who couldn’t afford much else.
Life like this always made you wonder what it was like for the Pilties.
You sighed, putting a hand up to your head as you rubbed your face, mentally preparing yourself for whatever task you’d give yourself for the sake of pretending like you actually did something useful with your day. As you walked out of your room, you were met with a very familiar face sitting in the little common lounge area the two of you had set up.
“Hey.” Vi greeted, looking up towards you for only a moment before looking back down at something she held in her hands. You noticed she wasn’t wearing her usual red jacket which wasn’t totally out of the ordinary, but it caught you a bit by surprise to see her arms just on display. You shook your head ever so slightly before quickly responding with your own gentle,
“Hey.”
Silence then returned between the two of you as you walked past her to try and find something to occupy yourself with. Unfortunately for you, the deathly still air around you began to weigh on you, urging you to say something to the girl who now sat behind you.
“So… what’s it like being back?” You asked, not looking back at her as you moved to a box of your things that was just sitting on the floor. What better time to sort this than now, you guessed.
Vi sighed a little before answering,
“Disorienting.” She said simply before pausing for a moment or two. “It's as if I landed on another planet or universe or something.” She continued, still fiddling with whatever was in her hand. You hummed in response.
“A lot changed when you left.” You added which earned a dry chuckle from Vi.
“Tell me about it.” She said, now leaning back on her chair as she looked up at the ceiling. The freak of the chair caused you to look back at her for a moment. It seemed you both had that habit in common, just looking up at the ceiling whenever you needed to think. You wondered if she was always like that or if it’s something she gathered while in prison.
Another silence fell over the two of you before you spoke up.
“Jerichos is still there though.” You said, still looking at her for a moment before turning back to rummage through your box of belongings. You heard her shift in her seat as she sat back up.
“Really?” She questioned with a more egear air about her. You looked at her over your shoulder with a slight smile as you nodded.
“Yeah. We could go check it out now if you want.” You offered, now taking your hands out of the box as you fully faced her. “For old times sake?” You added on.
You watched as her eyes softened even the slightest bit at your words, a smile making its way onto her lips as she nodded.
“For old times sake.”
It didn’t take long for Vi to get ready as she grabbed her usual jacket and waited for you by the door. Once you were both ready to head out, you noticed that the awkward tension that riddled the entirety of your apartment seemed to have dwindled even the slightest bit.
“So what have you been up to?” The pink haired woman asked as she walked casually at your side. Her hands were tucked into her pockets as she looked over to you.
“Eh, stealing stuff, making money where I can. Really anything to get by.” You answered with a shrug. Vi nodded before a smile graced her face once again, her eyes scrunching ever so slightly, naturally indicating that the smile was genuine. The first one you’d seen from her in a while.
“Remember that time we tried to steal food from that one stall that was on this street?” She asked, looking in the direction that the stall once resided years ago. This thought slowly but surely brought you joy as you remembered what had unfolded.
You snickered a bit to yourself before saying,
“Yeah, and I remember how you fell and practically ate concrete. Wasn’t funny then but you know, I think it’s been long enough to say it’s funny now.” You taunted a bit as you looked over to her to which she rolled her eyes.
“Hey, it’s not like you haven’t had your fair share of slip ups Sunshine.” She teased with a smirk before turning her head to look at the other side of the street. She extended her arm and pointed at the remnants of a poor attempt at graffiti.
“Remember when you tried to prove to Mylo you could be daring so you tried to vandalize the shop we used to go to, and you ended up spelling half of it wrong?” She laughed, realizing she was still able to read most of what you had painted on the wall many years ago.
“Live life wiht no regerts, how poetic of you.” She teased to which you lightly shoved her shoulder with a smile.
“Shut up, I was more focused on trying not to get caught than whatever I was writing.” You laughed. You both continued reminiscing on things you had done, or failed to do, together when you were younger. Finally it felt as if that wall between you had fully gone down.
You two were so busy having fun and laughing with each other you almost ended up passing by Jericho’s stall. You quickly corrected that course of action as you both sat down at the counter, ordering the same orders you used to order when you were younger.
“His stuff is still just as good as you remember, I can promise you that.” You smiled, turning back to look towards Jericho who was busy slicing and dicing his dishes, preparing them just how you liked them. When you turned back to face Vi however, you noticed she had a much more nostalgic look on her face as she stared at you. You raised your eyebrow as you looked back at her,
“What, is there something on my face?” You asked, confused as to why she was staring. Upon hearing you speak She simply looked away from you, acting as if she hadn’t been staring to begin with.
“No, no there’s nothing on your face.” She answered quickly. Before you could question her further, Jericho placed your dishes out in front of you, just as cheerful as ever. You both said your thank yous before digging in, Vi much more eagerly than you. She tactically inhaled her food, clearly having not been satisfied with whatever prison slop they had been giving her.
“I missed this.” She said gleefully, practically drowning in the bliss she felt from her meal. As she finished up her meal, she placed the bowl back down before looking back at you for a moment or two. Inc wagon you were going to ask her what was wrong but she beat you too it as she spoke,
“I missed you.”
This caught you by surprise. You simply stared at her for a moment before moving to answer,
“I missed you too.” You replied, earning a small smile for Vi before she continued,
“It feels good to know that at least some things haven’t changed.”
Her words, although coming from a place of warmth, held a melancholic weight to them as well. You hadn’t changed, you were one of the only things in Zaun that stayed the same, and you didn’t know it but Vi took immense comfort in that. Everything else was out of her control, she wasn’t there to see it change, and there was no way for her to stop It either. So knowing you, someone she cared for oh so deeply, was still alive and well, it helped her sleep even the slightest bit better at night.
She wanted to tell you. She wanted to tell you all the things she felt about you. In fact, before everything had gone south with the enforcers, she had planned to tell you. She planned to get everything off her chest and let you know just how much she cared about you.
But she never got the chance.
Until now. Here you were, sitting two feet in front of her, laughing and smiling the same way you always had, the same way she always adored.
And she was hesitating.
What if you never felt the same? What if you had but it’s been so long that those feelings have dwindled? What if she makes it awkward again? She didn’t want that, she didn’t want any of that. You both had finally reached a point of comfort again, everything felt right again with you, she didn’t want to mess that up.
Little did she know, you were feeling the same. You always had feelings for Vi that remained over the years. Sure they dwindled in strength after not seeing her for so long, but the moment you set your eyes on her that first day you knew she was back, the feelings came rushing back like a dam had broken into a river.
It almost made it impossible to focus at times, she looked so different and yet so similar. You couldn’t help but stare at her features from time to time.
As your mind wandered, you couldn’t help but muttering,
“I like your hair.”
You hadn’t realized you said it outloud until Vi looked back at you once again from her bowl. Quickly, you went to remedy the situation before it had the chance to be once awkward.
“It looks good, well you look good, but specifically your hair. It’s nice.” You stumbled over your words a bit in the process of getting that one simple sentence out.
Good Job.
Luckily, this only made Vi smile more as she laughed a bit at what she thought was adorable stumbling.
“Thanks Sunshine.” She replied, in almost a cheeky manner as she smirked at you.
After a bit more talking, and what neither of you would admit was just straight up flirting, you both decided you had spent enough time out and wanted to head back. As you walked back, you two continued to reminisce on old stories with the group, but mainly focusing on the memories you two shared on your own.
You both laughed at another memory as you walked back through the door of your apartment and plopped down on one of the few chairs in the main room. Vi followed after you, sitting just across from you as She slouched on the seat, stretching her legs out as far as she could. There was a smile on her face, but it was clear she was keeping something hidden.
“Vi?” You spoke up, looking directly at her. “What’s up?” You asked, not giving an explanation to your question but just by her facial expressions you knew she knew what you meant.
“What do you mean?” She tried to play it off, but that only made you double down.
“Vi. You’re making that face, you know the one where you’re struggling to keep your thoughts to yourself. I’ve been around you long enough to know when you have something to say.” You explained, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you looked towards her with a very unfazed expression.
Her smile didn’t drop, but it changed to less of a joyful one and more of the disappointment of someone who had just been caught.
“Nothing ever gets past you does it, Sunshine?” She asked in a slightly teasing manner as if to draw away the attention from herself. This was a tactic she often used when you’d start getting on her case about opening up to you. It never worked and yet she tried it every time. You raised a brow at her before she let out a slight sigh.
“Fine, you got me. I was just… thinking.” She answered vaguely, no longer making eye contact as she stared at the wall behind you.
“About what?” You asked. Leaning a bit forward, showing your clear interest in how she was feeling. It seemed as if she gave in as she began to speak,
“About… Everything.” She spoke quietly, she was always so ready to keep her thoughts hidden if it meant keeping others safe from worrying, but she didn’t need to do that here. She didn’t have to worry about that with you.
You could see she was deep in thought as she leaned forward a bit now leaning against the small table that was between the two of you. Clearly she was thinking about what to say and what not to say, so to ease her nerves, you moved your hand to cover hers.
Vi always seemed to calm down at your touch, and now was no exception to that. She seemed to visibly relax as she felt the warmth of your touch cover her own hand. Her eyes softened before she let out a sigh. You always knew how to get your way.
“I was thinking about how I don’t want this to change. I know this whole time we’ve been focusing on how things used to be and how everything has changed since then but, now that I’m with you again everything else doesn’t really matter as much to me.” She began. You sat silently as you listened to her continue,
“Don’t get me wrong, it's upsetting to see how much has changed over the years I’ve been gone, but I know that you haven’t changed. I don’t know where my sister is, Silco is in charge of everything, so just knowing that you’re still here, it’s like a quiet peace in all the other chaos I have to deal with.” She explained with a slight chuckle, now looking back at you.
“You’re the only thing that makes sense to me right now.”
You couldn’t help but feel loved by her words. She clearly valued your presence more than you realized, just as you valued hers.
Before you even knew it, you had stood up from your chair and walked towards Vi. In a mere few seconds you were standing in front of her, and without a second thought you engulfed her in a warm hug. The warmest you could ever muster as you rested your chin on her shoulder.
She hesitated for a moment before eventually grabbing back, her arms wrapped around your torso as she stood up to properly hold you. The force in which she stood up caused the chair behind her to knock back and fall over as she desperately clung to your warmth.
“I've missed you…” She whispered to you, her entire body feeling as if it was powering down against you. For the first time in a long time she felt truly safe. She felt as if she could put her guard down and leave down when she was with you.
“Vi?” You lightly called as you eventually pulled away from the hug and looked back towards Vi’s eyes. She had the look of that of a wounded puppy. Her usual tough looking scowl that was used to keep unwanted attention off her back was replaced by a soft, hopeful and almost loving eyes. It was a look you had seen many times before but you never truly realized what it was. You could finally put it into words. It made your heart flutter whether she did it intentionally or not.
Maybe this wasn’t the time to share your feelings. Maybe it was better to keep them hidden. But you had already called her name so… you at least needed to come up with something.
Screws it, whatever happened to honesty. You took in a deep inhale before closing your eyes. If you can’t see it, the possible rejection isn’t there.
Before you could even fully make a decision about whether or not to say what you wanted, you felt as Vi’s hand lightly went up to your face, the feeling was unexpected but not unwanted as you leaned into her rough touch slightly.
“I love you.” She said, finishing your thought whether she realized it or not. Her words caused you to freeze as you finally reopened your eyes. When you did, you were met by the same blue eyes still staring at you. The warmth had never vanished from her gaze as she kept her eyes trained on you.
“I’ve been wanting to say that for so long.” She chuckled slightly, you could feel her hands beginning to shake a bit as you stayed silent. Her hands then left your face as she continued,
“You’ve been my best friend for so many years and I know we didn’t really interact for a little while but honestly I was scared. I was scared to come to terms with the fact that you might’ve changed just like everything else. Sure you’ve changed physically and maybe your personality has changed in some aspects but, you’re still the same person I was in love with you even when we were kids.” She was clearly rambling at this point as her hands continued to shake. You didn’t know Vi was capable of feeling fears over such a trivial thing, but there it was, staring you right in the face.
As she continued to speak, you could hardly focus on anything, you let your body act on its own as your brain took a moment to catch up. Your hands slowly made their way up to Vi’s face, silencing her as you leaned in slightly before hesitating.
“Can I?” You asked quietly but without even answering, Vi leaned forward and embraced you in a long awaited kiss. It was everything either of you could have dreamed of. Your hands began to leave her face as your arms wrapped around her neck, pulling her closer to you. Her hands lightly traveled down to your waist to keep you in place as she leaned into you more.
After a little while, you both broke the kiss, looking at each other as you both slightly panted before breaking out into laughter. You didn’t know why, you just… felt like laughing. Vi eventually leaned back into you, resting her chin on your shoulder as whispered,
“Can we just… stay like this? Please?” She asked, pulling back a bit so you could see her hard blue eyes softening as she looked towards you, her hand slithering into yours, holding it with care as if you might shatter with even the slightest squeeze. You, the ever loving being you are, smiled softly at your now partner.
“Of course. I guess the question is though, your room or mine?” You asked, to which Vi quickly responded
“Yours.”
So without any argument, you both made your way to your room and laid down together in a tangled mess on the bed. Your arms were wrapped around her neck once again as she held a tight grip on your torso. It was clear she needed an embrace of any sort.
It was no secret that she had been through so much and while you couldn’t go back and change the past, you could do what you could to help her heal.
“Thank you.” She whispered quietly, moving closer to you.
#x reader#unoislazy#fanfiction#fanfic#xreader fanfic#fanart#idk how to tag this#i love my wife#arcane x female reader#arcane x gender neutral reader#arcane x y/n#arcane x you#fanfic arcane#vi from arcane#vi arcane#arcane x reader#i love arcane#arcane vi#arcane#vi x y/n#vi x you#vi specifically#vi x reader#i love vi#attachment issues
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GymRat!Miguel Part 2
content warning: mentions of food because big boys gotta eat, there’s a ref photo for an outfit in here that is unfortunately NOT a plus-size girl 😞 (I couldn’t find a big girl wearing an outfit like that for the life of me, but let’s use our imagination), 18+ towards the end so MDNI!
word count: 1.7k (not very drabble-like, ik) kinda proofread
Prev | Next ✩°。 ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist
GymRat!Miguel who wakes up when his 6 am alarm rings, eyes tired and bleary. His roommate is sound asleep, thank god, and Miguel is just staring at the ceiling for a good 10 minutes before he decides to move. He has an 8 am and he needs some type of breakfast before he heads to class.
GymRat!Miguel who uses the college cafeteria to his full advantage. He made sure that his dad’s money went to the highest meal plan. One free meal plan a day and a loaded campus card for everything else. He stacks his plate high with everything the cafeteria is offering today. Sausages, eggs, 2 bananas, a blueberry muffin, and a protein shake he brought from his room.
GymRat!Miguel who made friends with one of the cafeteria ladies, Ms. Beatrice, by the third week of school. She noticed how much he visited the cafeteria and always snuck him an extra treat from the kitchen when she saw him.
“I missed you last Tuesday!” she says, squeezing his shoulder when she walks up to his table. She slides a wrapped egg sandwich across the table. “I was saving some extra cookies for you, but you were nowhere to be found.”
Miguel thanks her, happy to have something light for later, “Ah, I was stuck in the library doing a group project. Sorry about that, Ms. Beatrice.”
“As long as you’re getting your education, I don’t mind,” she says, hands on her hips. “Don’t go out there skipping class now, ok?”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Miguel says, waving her goodbye. His mom would kill him if that ever happened. Not that he would tell her, she just had a sixth sense for his “fuck-ups.”
GymRat!Miguel who makes it to his class fifteen minutes early to arrange his part of his desk to his liking. Sometimes he feels so embarrassed when he needs to grab something in the middle of class, his ears hyperfocusing on every little noise he makes in quiet, crowded areas. He always makes sure to get out his laptop, a pen, a pencil, a highlighter, a notebook, some white-out, and a water jug. He prefers to be over-prepared.
GymRat!Miguel who’s feeling anxious when the sorority girls pass by his table, giggling and twirling their hair. They attempt to make conversation with him, speaking ill of the professor. He just nods along for the sake of being a gentleman. He thought the professor’s Millennial attempts at Gen Z jokes were kind of funny, albeit very 2010. He didn’t have the heart to tell them he actually enjoyed the lectures.
GymRat!Miguel who’s never been more excited for a lecture to start in his life. He didn’t know many more “wow”’s snd “that’s crazy”’s he had left in him. The noise of the ice hitting their plastic coffee cups as they struggled to get every drop out was starting to grate against his ears. He missed you and your sticker-covered water bottle. He looked over at his jug and smiled when he saw the ‘Game Over’ sticker you gifted him before the last lab. You noticed his joystick keychain and felt that his water bottle was empty.
GymRat!Miguel who declines the girls’ offer to join them on a morning jog after. He liked to work out in solitude and morning jogs with them would mean conversation. He would also have to be extra conscious about what he wore. No older lady walking her dog needed to spot him jogging with shorts that were too short for his own good and a tank top cut so deep that it was like string on his chest.
GymRat!Miguel who decides to head to the library in between class to kill time. He figured he can see if there are any science fiction he can check out to read in his free time. As he walks there, he opens Instagram to scroll. No, he has not been checking the app since this morning to see if you let him in, he’s not a freak. He stops walking when he checks his notifs to see that you accepted his follow request. He wastes no time to click your page again and is bombarded with tons of photos.
GymRat!Miguel who has to close the app immediately when he sees your first photo. It's a picture of you outside of a restaurant in a knitted two-piece. The top is open just a bit to see your chest and the long skirt is low enough to see a part of your stomach peeking through. Your smile is radiant and the caption is something about congratulating someone. You look delectable and Miguel can’t afford to run back to his dorm to let his mind wander over it right now.
GymRat!Miguel who gets another notification as he steps into his dorm room after his last class of the day and sees that you’ve liked and commented on his most recent post. It’s a mirror picture of him flexing his arm after his last work out. His shorts are riding high on his thighs and the curve of his ass is very noticeable. Gabriel had blew up his phone with voice memos of him cackling after he posted it.
“Looking good!! 🫣 Get those gains Miguel! 💪🏾”
Miguel runs a victory lap in his dorm room, thankful that his roommate wouldn’t be back until that night. He’s jumping and punching the air excitedly as if he were a boxer. If he wasn’t fearful of busting his ass, he’d do a backflip. Take that, Gabri.
GymRat!Miguel who decides to go back to your account, running on the hype of that one compliment from you. He stares at that first photo again, still mesmerized as if he didn’t see it earlier. He gives a like and starts typing.
“Wow…”
No, that’s corny.
“Loving the blue…”
Is he a frat guy?
“You look stunning”
Was that too much? He decides to add on a heart eyes emoji, afraid he might be coming on too strong.
GymRat!Miguel who goes a little further down your page. There’s a photo of you in a crochet cover up, your swimsuit peaking through the material. He groans as he slides to the next picture and the top of your cover up is off and it’s just a view of your back with your bikini string wrapped around it. Your lower half is in the water and if he can imagine it just enough, he can feel himself right behind you, taking in the view of your ass against him.
He’s hard. Again.
He decides to just let everything hang while he has the dorm to himself. His boxers are to his ankles as he sits on the bed, back against the wall. He keeps staring at your swimsuit pictures. Your breasts pushed together while you lean over the boat. Your hips swaying in a clip of you dancing with your friends. Your stomach on display as you lay in the sand, ready for him to squeeze.
He grit his teeth as he played the clips over and over again, his hand moving fast to bring him his relief. He closed his eyes and imagined he was there, watching you swaying before him. He would join you, grab your hips and let you guide him in the dance. He felt faint as he let go, voice shouting and white splattered across his shirt and fist.
He breathes fast, trying to calm down. He decides to like the photo dump and comment some aimless beach emojis under the post. It was the least he could do after using it to get off. How embarrassing.
GymRat!Miguel who jumps when his phone dings again. He was prepping to go to the gym when your response comes flying to his phone. His heart picks up when he sees you replied to his comment.
“That is so sweet of you to say! 🥺 Thank you 🥰”
He doesn’t know if you took it as a friendly gesture or a sign that he wanted you. Either way, he’s over the moon. There’s a pep in his step as he blasts Super Shy in his ears on the way to the gym. He had a new motivation to push harder in his sets.
GymRat!Miguel who tacks on 10 extra pounds during his arm workout. The guys in the gym are eyeing him in wonder and horror as he uses the 70lb weights for tricep extensions. He thinks of seeing you in lab later that week and decides to do some hip thrusts.
He can never be over-prepared.
GymRat!Miguel who decides to take a picture at the end of his work out to post on his story. He’s sweating, hair dripping towards the ends, his chest glistening. The angle is awkward as he moves the camera below him and flexes an arm for the picture. The story was meant for one girl and one girl only, so he didn’t really care how silly it looked to others.
GymRat!Miguel who almost fist pumps on the walk home when you like his story and leave a reply. He checks the private messages, grin on his face before he even reads what you have to say.
“Looks like you had a nice workout. I might have to join you next time and get some tips 🤔”
Miguel swiped the app up and texted Gabriel:
“Don’t ever question my game again”
"? Wtf are you talking about"
Miguel opened up his messages with you again and replied to text him whenever and he’d be happy to help.
GymRat!Miguel who winds down for the night, scrolling on his phone before he closes his eyes. Of course you posted a story and of course he pressed it within record speed.
It was a photo of you laying down all bundled up with a cute ‘good night’ gif moving across the bottom. You had on a spaghetti strap tank top and if your blanket wasn’t in the way, he’s sure he would see more than that.
You looked soft, adorable, kissable.
He liked the story and responded back a “good night” and closed his phone. He wanted you to visit him in his dreams once more.
dividers by: @gigittamic 🩵
a/n: tumblr mobile kept deleting full paragraphs of my draft. not happy about that because I kept losing my flow. 😒 it happened like THREE TIMES 😭
Thanks for reading! Like, comment, reblog, and tell me how you feel! 🩵
Wanna be added to the taglist for GymRat!Miguel? Comment and let me know. 🤗 (PLEASE HAVE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO. This series has been and will get even more NSFW!)
taglist: @ghost-lantern 🫶🏾🥺
#love lab drabbles 💊#GymRat!Miguel 💪🏾#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara smut#plus size reader#spiderman 2099 au#spiderman 2099 x you#miguel o’hara imagine#miguel o’hara au#miguel o’hara x plussize!reader#miguel o’hara x chubby reader#miguel o’hara x chubby!reader#miguel x fem!reader
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cw. gn!reader + you are a rather shy lover & sunday thinks its the cutest thing ever + kinda ooc + set in pre-version 2.2
sunday looks… far too handsome for a gala. it’s actually baffling how he captures your attention like no other being on penacony—or even the entire universe in fact! his shimmery golden eyes resemble a warm horizon and his voice is smooth and soothing like honey. but that smile… oh, that smile—it stirs a storm of butterflies in your belly and muffles the sound of people in the hall.
you gaze at him softly from where you stand, partially participating in conversation with guests. he’s really gone all out for this gala, huh… you’re snapped out of your thoughts the second your name is mentioned, immediately you giving the guest a smile to acknowledge what they’ve said, and then offer some input on what they were talking about.
when the conversation allows you to withdraw, you find yourself looking for sunday again. but he’s not where he was standing at earlier—he’s gone somewhere else! you unknowingly pout at the thought of this, folding your hands in front of yourself neatly as you try to search for your lover.
“i could feel your stare from a mile away, my dearest,” sunday chuckles lightly, a free hand caressing your back to comfort you. “have you found who you were looking for?” he raises a brow cheekily, amusement laced in his tone.
you jump slightly at the sudden presence of a person, then relax when you realise it’s your lover. you lean in a little closer, happy you’ve found who you’ve been searching for before awkwardly tearing your gaze away from him after considering how much your face must have brightened up. oh how embarrassing…
sunday watches your entire thought process from start to finish on the look on your face, having to stifle a laugh behind his gloved hand. “i’m afraid your expressions are as transparent as glass,” he hums, tilting his head to meet your timid gaze. “were you looking for me?”
you want to slide under the table and make yourself home there. there’s nowhere for you to run when you’re in sunday’s arms! your cheeks are lit aflame at how he stares at you—observing every inch of your features and how they twitch or curl because of him.
“no, i wasn’t—i simply was taking note of how well dressed everyone happened to be tonight!” you elaborate, obviously lying. sunday sees right through you.
and so he decides to play along.
the halovian hums a sound of agreement. “well said, my dove. but in your opinion, who would you say is the most best-dressed?”
no one dares to look upon the kind of affection sunday gives you. guests and members of the family simply turn their gaze away while the oak family head practically cradles you in his arms. red hearts might as well be shooting out of his eyes!
you blink, a little shocked by his question because did he really have to ask?! the answer is right in front of you!
“w-well,” you stutter, averting your gaze and it is to your misfortune that you miss to see how his soft amber gaze follows yours, as if not to miss a single thought that would reveal itself from the look on your face. “the suit you’ve chosen for this occasion is the most splendid colour.”
a small laugh erupts from his throat. “why thank you, my dove.” he pulls you a little closer and you squeak. “so you think i’m the best dressed?”
you stare at him and grant him an answer with a small nod. but with every passing second he showers you with his attention, the gradual heat that was previously tolerable is now a blazing inferno, dancing across your cheeks.
sunday realises now that he has to calm down. for the sake of his fragile-hearted lover and for the sake of his reputation. any more of this teasing and that really inappropriate sentence queuing at the back of his throat will really leave his lips.
his eyes do sparkle at how your lip quivers. you are just the cutest little thing!
“i am only kidding, dearest one.” he gives you a soft smile, hand rubbing circles on your hip. “though i do appreciate your thoughts.”
#THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE POSTED AFTER THE PENACONY ARC FINISHED UP 😭😭😭 AND I ONLY GOT TO FINISH IT NOW GOOD LORD#sunday x reader#sunday fluff#sunday x reader fluff#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#hsr fluff#honkai star rail fluff
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This is an idea that’s been on my mind lately because Carmy would be so protective and would 100% treat his gf like a princess, so I thought I’d send it in ifs it’s okay!!🤧
Can I please request Carmy x fem!reader where it’s based off the song “Treat You Better”, where she’s one of his chefs, and Carmy has a biiiig soft spot for her, like soft smiles, hand on the small of her back. Y/n is veryyyy soft spoken and quiet, a very stark contrast to the rest of The Beef/The Bear staff. The staff absolutely love her and are super protective of her: She’s best friends with Sydney (also she’s around the same age as Syd, early 20s), Tina sees her as a daughter, Marcus is always trying to make her laugh and asks her to try his pastries, Richie is more gentle with her than he is with everyone else, Ebra has a calmness around Y/n, Sugar (when she stops by) loves treating Y/n like the little sister she never had, and Carmy… Carmy is head over heels for Y/n. He’s so soft and gentle with her, never raising his voice at her in the kitchen, and he always has the cutest nicknames for her🤧. However… Y/n has a boyfriend, they all know it, and they all share an extreme dislike for him. He’s not very nice, and it all goes to a boiling point when they spot bruises, Y/n letting her hair fall over her face.🥺 Tina and Sydney probably noticing right as she walks in one morning, then the rest of the staff noticing too, the whole kitchen getting eerily quiet, Carmy pulling her aside to his office to talk to her, holding Y/n in his arms while she cries🥺 Carmy 100% taking his bat and beating the crap out of her bf… Now ex, and he offers for Y/n to stay with him because she has nowhere to go? Their relationship growing after that? Y/n kissing him one day, shook at herself, but he kisses her back?
July in November
carmen berzatto x fem! reader
warnings: heavy domestic abuse, controlling fiance, swearing, violence, carmen goes gives absolute no regard for felonies, (assumed) unrequited love, self deprecation, victim blaming
a/n: this entire fic is just time skips l swear, I've written something similar here as well if you liked this which i hope you did! dv is a heavy subject, and not something to trivialise. if you or someone you know is going through dv, please reach out x
banner from @firefly-graphics
The streaks of concealer do little to hide the bloom of dark purples and blues.
They stretch out, clawing up your side and past your ribs, shades of overlapping blotched bruises that were not yet healed.
You were a chef trained in Oslo for god sake, you had friends and family who loved you- and you let out a laugh when the words come out pathetic and dull.
You were right where he left you.
You suppose from the continuous uphill of your career, the exhaustion had made it easier to just sit still, let it happen. He had proposed and you had said yes unblinking. It was what he told the countless people at dinner parties he dragged you to in attendance,
“I had finally beat her down enough to finally fall in love with me” He smiled, his eyes shining and his grip on your waist bruising as the people smiled and laughed and you swallowed back his irony.
The cycles of abuse had started before you could truly remember, bouts of angry yelling before the hot dull beat of pain. And he was so kind after, so thoughtful and apologetic, his eyebrows furrowed and his touch gentle as he leaned over you.
Were you still a victim, if you wanted to stay just for the after?
You shake your head, slowly blinking at the reflection of your bloated torso. Peeling away your shirt gently before buttoning up one of your work shirts instead.
Your heart settled when you thought of the Bear. It was your haven, Richie’s rambled drivel, Sugar hovering every so near, Carmen with his eyes and his inked hands and his sweet mouth. It wrapped around you more tightly than those bruises ever could.
You look over to watch your fiancé, fast asleep content with a full stomach and tired fists. He was so vulnerable like that, and the feeling of anger unfurls in your gut. For once, just one time you wanted him to feel it, that gut wrenching frightened feeling.
You look over to the stone doorstep near his desk, the stupid thing that he had revered at one of his art conventions that was left keeping the door open. You wonder, just for a second, what it would feel like to lean over him with it between your hands, waiting for the slight blink of his eyes that clear away the sleep.
Watch the fear melt into them, and smashing his fucking face with it.
You breathe deeply, arranging your hair so it is out of your face, flattening out the creases in your shit and avoiding your stomach as you stood up and grabbed your bag.
“Where are you going”
You blink, hands gripping your work bag as his voice bellows “Work”
“Huh. We need to sort that out soon”
You stopped, closing your eyes as you fiddled with the loose threads from the shoulder strap. You knew this conversation, where he would bring up another thing in your life he wanted to talk about, as if your relationship was built on a solid base of understanding and conversation. You would wait until his voice would ripen with jealousy and rage, where thinly veiled inquisition would fall away and reveal what he truly wanted.
You had given him enough of your life, let him change and control it. But you would soon let yourself be buried then let him take this too from you. No fucking way.
“Sure”
You pass by the door, pushing the stone to the side. It wasn’t heavy at all.
It’s when you enter the back door of the Bear do you realise you’ve spent your whole commute over holding your breath.
The smells of sauces and expensive meats lulls your anxiety into a mummering tremble, and you sigh softly to yourself as you sling your bag into your locker.
You can already hear Richie arguing, and the tired voice of Carmen biting back and you want to slap yourself for all the times you had grown annoyed at them. What you would give to hear them always, to feel this level of safety and comfort without the overhanging timer of when you would eventually have to leave.
You nod towards Sydney, carrying a large tray of roasted pecans over to Sam, her braids intricately wrapped around her head.
The walkway is framed with pictures of the family, from Mickey to the recent Polaroids of Sugar's newborn. You notice a framed picture of the team from years ago, when you had first started working at the Bear. You’re squished between Carmen and Fak, the backdrop of a renovating Bear behind you all.
The timidiness of being new had not left then, and despite the family enveloping you as their own you had wondered why Carmen had chosen you out of all the decorated chefs that had surely applied. You had asked him this once, after an exhausting dinner rush and he had simply looked up at you from his plate of stolen steak and eggs.
“You’ve got something, Kid. Maybe it’s because you hadn’t yet gotten the light beaten out from the culinary world but I need that. Need someone who pushes against the boundaries you know?”
You had stayed quiet as he talked
“And you’re a local. Boston isn’t for the faint of heart, you know your diners better than they know themselves. Call it prejudice, I call it a safety cushion.“
You wondered what she would think of you now, her wide eyed dream so close you could see her tight grip on her chef coat in the grainy photograph.
You follow the noise of the crew into the kitchen, when Carmen is hunched over a chopping board and Richie is pointing out problems in the seating arrangement for tonight.
He exhales, ready to start another contingent when he spots your figure walking through the entryway.
“Finally. Someone fucking competent in this place”
“Hey Richie” You smile, tightening your apron before biting back a wince. The darkness of your life outside of the Bear had a way of seeping in at times, you had grown too comfortable.
“Hey baby, you good? yeah?” Richie replies
“Richie-“ Carmen interrupts, turning his head to face you for the first time in an hour (which you did not realise but Riche surely did)
“Fuck off. Fuck you. You sure baby? Need me to get you somethin? I got a pack of Marlboros if you need a break”
“Leave her alone, dammit Richie, and a cigarette this early?”
“Oh! Oh! The addict wants to act holier than thou all of a sudden. Just because you slapped on a couple Nic patches-“
“It’s gum and it’s fucking working asshole”
“The L hold you up?” Richie says, throwing the finger at Carmen
“No, no, um, just got in a little fight with David” You reply, cutting your eyes away from him.
Richie rolls his eyes with a groan, a sour expression filters over his face in flash at the mention of your fiance’s name.
“That fuckin’ guy, I swear that boyfriend of yours” Richie groans
“It was my fault really.”
You notice Carmen’s movements stop abruptly, the chopping growing silent with his back turned to you.
“I highly doubt that” Carmen grumbles, before Tina and Sydney come through the door
“Hey, why were you late you missed out on that guy who tried fighting Fak-”
“Her stupid fucking boyfriend”
“Easy” Carmen replies, turning to face you again
“Hey, c’mon Carmen you of all people know that man does not deserve her one fucking bit”
“Darling you need to get rid of that man I’m telling you, he ain't treating you the way you deserve. There's no good keeping an angry man” Tina chides, eyebrows raised as she wipes her fingers on the cloth draped over her shoulder.
“Yeah, he's a dick. And he’s always just…hovering when he comes.” Sydney replies
“And always talk in this condescending tone, adding random words to sound smarter than he is” Marcus’s voice interjects, peeking from around the pastry corner
“Like pseudo-intellectual goddamn-” Tina grumbles, in lightning speed
“Yuppie” Fak continues, and Tina nods
“All I’m saying doll, is that if you end up dumpin’ him we’d be right behind ya’. Might throw a little party here, a small one…how much does it cost to hire some fireworks?”
“Ease up guys, her love life ain’t got nothing to do with us alright. Let the girl be” Carmen voice bellows “And we got work to do”
He turns to the rest of them, shaking his head feigning annoyance at the team gathering together to gossip. And yet, his hands grip his towel tight enough to leave them white, and his teeth grind against his molars when he thinks of your boyfriend.
You don’t know how they'd react when they find out he proposed, you can’t exactly hide a ring.
“Hey” You smile towards Carmen, who’s twisted features blink into resolve when he hears you
“Hey” He nods, wincing as he pressed his fingers to his temple gingerly.
“Still got that headache?”
“I’ll be fine, just wish it would save the eye stabbing until after dinner service”
“Here”
“I’m alright-“
“Take it” you repeat, pressing some pain killers in his hand.
Carmen nods gratefully, hands clasped around yours for a second longer. Before they part.
He eyes the pills, and for a second you see this puzzled look gleam across his eyes.
He pops them in his mouth, you let out a breath from your chest quietly.
You kept your work and home life separate, Carmen didn’t need nor should carry the burden of this ugly secret that paints you from the inside out.
You had a lid on it. You were sure.
You let yourself get lost in the ingrained memory of moving around the kitchen, letting the slice of your knife against the flesh of meat and fruit melt away everything you had been shouldering the past year.
It gets busy, really busy, Richie and Carmen fail to cohabitate in the hours of the dinner service, multiple plates are dropped, you almost can’t keep up with the never ending orders coming in but its also fucking amazing. The rush of delivering every component of a plate in time, making sure the meat is cooked until just right, making sure the sauce isn't runny, it feels like dancing.
Your legs and arms ache, you have a headache and your apron is stained and you can’t tell the difference between the end of the dinner service and hitting the last step of a choreographed dance.
The high that buzzes through your body is mirrored by everyone around you, and you take a second to sink in that feeling of euphoria as the last tables are cleared.
“That was..” You start, un-hunching your shoulders as the rest of the team look up in a daze, surrounding the kitchen
“Fuckin’ amazing, might be our best night yet” Richie grins, bobbing his chin as it rests on his hands
“That was good..we could've been a bit better at turning the tables-” Carmen murmurs
“Oh c’mon Carmy, we can talk about the finalities later but even you can admit that was pretty good” Sydney calls out, leaning her head against the door frame, as exhausted pulls at her every feature
“Yeah…yeah it was good”
“No one go anywhere, I’ve got left over schnitzel and potatoes and I know none of you have taken a break”
“How long has it been since we’ve sat down for family?” Tina mumbles, wiping her stained apron tiredly
“Too long, I don’t mind fixin’ it up” You stretch out your arms, unbuttoning your chef's coat and folding it neatly, despite Sugar throwing them into the sink to soak for the night later.
“I’ll help” Carmen nods to you, doing the same with his apron. His dark crew neck that sticks to him reveals with every button, outlining the indentations of his chest and biceps.
Family usually consists of throwing whatever leftovers from the night's dinner service onto a large plate and proceeding to throw some forks near it. There had been a long trail of food combinations that either delighted the crew or had you throwing your towel in and going to the taco truck nearby.
Today however, the night had gone so well and had distracted you even better. You could at least make up some plates, make ‘em look pretty or whatever else your hands had been trained to do.
The rest of the team move the tables to form one large spanning diner in the middle of the Bear, the scrape of wood against flooring is all that fills the air as you and Carmen work silently. You’re good together, that sort of chemistry that only comes with understanding a person so well you can anticipate their next move. And the night feels like a dance again, moving left and right, handing him pieces of chicken and spoonfuls of sauce, wiping plates clean and centering them right.
It’s only when Richie comes tumbling through the double doors does it cause Carmen to jump, spilling the ladle of hot gravy across your shirt. You wince, Carmen lets out a garbled grunt and Richie cringes.
Carmen is quick, reaching for a nearby cloth as he begins to lift up your shirt gingerly. The sauce isn't boiling, but there is a slight stinging heat that radiates across your midsection and you're too distracted and uncomfortable that you forget yourself, and let Carmen reveal you.
It takes Carmen a second, he's pulling your shirt up just below your underbra, and his fingers pause against the fabric.
You’re confused just for a moment, but it stretches out, and you let yourself sit in the fantasy of unknowing, you let yourself imagine a life where what was sprawled across your skin was just the remnants of a soggy shirt and irritated skin.
The truth of it hits you when you watch Carmen's face change in front of you.
“What the fuck?”
“Don’t-”
“What?” Richie calls, coming closer before throwing his head back
“Jesus fuckin' christ kid”
“I-I we got into a fight-“
“A fight? He beat you!”
“You don’t understand-”
“Maybe I don’t but this-“ Carmen gestures to the welts and colours that paint your stomach “Is one of the worst things I’ve seen in a long time”
Carmen’s hands are still gripping your shirt, the rag dropped to the floor between you now as you lower your head and let your hair cover your eyes.
“I’m sorry-“ You croak out, tongue heavy and eyes blurring with tears.
“Sorry-?” Carmen circuses down to meet your eyes incredulously “You’re sorry? Why are you fucking sorry, look what he fucking did to you!- what has he done to you?”
“Hey hey, honey you need to tell us what happened. This isn’t right, no fight can justify this” Richie whispers, crouching near you as he watches Carmen carefully.
“It was an accident”
“Do you truly believe that?” Richie murmurs softly, and you look up with a furrow of your brow.
You turn to Carmen whose face is twisted in anger, his eyes on your midsection, his hands around your sides and around you.
“I don’t know anymore..I’m just so tired” You whimper, your throat growing tight as Carmen’s brows furrow, blinking and grinding his jaw
“I’m going to fucking kill him-“
“Hey, Carmen wait just- wait” Richie is quick to reach Carmen as he rears back
“Look at her- he can’t-FUCK”
“I know, and we will. I want to break his goddamn legs but we got to think of her. We need to get her out of this, we need to think about her first”
Carmen closes his eyes as you watch their interaction, and he turns to you as you blink the tears that drop down your cheek. He frowns and waits for your approval and you nod, and Richie lets go of him and he gathers you in his arms and lets you cry the last of your resolve on his shoulder.
You don’t tell him anything, and he doesn’t ask. He lets you wet his shoulder as the silence that sits in the kitchen is consumed by your muffled cries instead.
The commotion causes the rest of the team to flood in, putting the pieces together when they see your shoulders shaking with grief and your unbuttoned top. The bear hung with the sick reality of a beat woman, and the once hungry crew now felt the nauseous image in front of them fill their stomach.
Sydney is the one that eases you out of Carmen’s arms, and pulls your hair back as she whispers apologies into your ear. She takes you to the emergency room to make sure nothing is broken. When the nurses greet you by name she waits until you're in the examination room before sobbing into Tina’s arms.
“How did I not notice, I see her every goddamn day, how did I not notice he was hurting her?”
“Don’t do that, don’t blame yourself. There is only one person to blame”
The rest of the team follows, and they all sprawl across the waiting room, heads between their hands.
After one of the junior doctors gives you the all clear, and Carmen and Richie follow up on the police report you make your way down the linoleum hallway in the crumbled stained shirt that had started this all.
You blink as you watch the faces of everyone you love look up in worry, exhaustion is written into their bones and still they sit in the too small waiting chairs for you. You had never felt a love like that before, so profound and overwhelming clear and you breathe it in deeply like it's the last thing you’ll taste.
“I’m so sorry-”
“Don’t you fuckin dare-”
“I know, I know, just please hear me.”
They relent, and you wait until they all nod towards you before continuing
“You guys have taken me as your own, made me feel a part of something greater than myself. I don’t want you to think I was unloved” Your voice heightens with the wet tears that fill your throat
“Every single time I came through those doors I felt it okay? I never understood the power of it, of love, but I feel it now and I felt it then. It just got muddled in the middle of all of this, of all the things I keep hidden. And that is my fault, but you guys, the Bear? You guys kept me alive” You whisper the last part, your voice caught in your throat as you try to still the shake your hands.
“You did nothing wrong baby, nothing. It’s hard to leave isn’t it? It’s hard to even say it” Ebra is the first one to whisper, holding your hands gently and carefully. You look at him, as his eyes gleam with the heaviness of his past and you don’t quite understand how, but you believe he knows that well.
“We’re your family, whatever it is that you're dealing with we shoulder it to, we carry that burden. That is what we're here for, and you can take all the time that you need. Let us help you, but you know what happens now, yes?” Richie murmurs
“I need to get out”
“Damn fucking right you do. And fast, I know it's going to be hard but you need to act like everything is normal. Get in, pack a bag and get out.”
You breathe in deeply, remembering all the half packed duffle bags that had been left near the door. This time you wouldn't be able to back out, this time Carmen would make sure of it.
“Where’s Carmen?” You suddenly say, and Richie shifts his gaze to the exit sign.
“Maybe give him a few moments Kid” Richie murmurs, but you ignore him, moving quickly towards and out of the doors into the smoking area in the alleyway.
You spot him hunched over, back against the stone wall, trails of grey smoke filters from his mouth as you tsk loudly when you near him.
He raises his head up, widening his eyes before looking down at the cigarette.
“You were doing so good” You smile softly
“Yeah? Felt like pulling teeth, not grabbing for one every couple hours.”
“But those chewing gums”
Carmen shakes his head “Don’t tell Rich, but they were fucking disgusting”
You let out a hearty laugh, leaning back on the wall beside him.
Carmen takes one last deep drag, before pressing the butt of the stick into the wall that isn't near you.
It’s silent, and you feel him watching you for a long time before his voice replies in a croaky tear filled tone you had never heard come out of his mouth before.
“Goddamn it kid”
“I know” You reply instantly, the tears that you thought had left you were big fat liars.
“I want to blame myself, I will for a long time but this isn’t about me is it”
You shake your head furiously, it was so far apart from him.
“What can I do? What can I do to make it better?” Carmen whispers, turning to face you fully now, eyes red and blonde curls messy across his brows.
“It’s not something you can fix Carm, you just got to let me do it. Let me walk away completely”
Carmen grits his teeth, “I should’ve made more attention-”
“How? Between renovating the Bear, organising the menu, fucking opening and maintaining the dinner service every night?”
Carmen shakes his head and you tug at his arm gently
“I didn’t let you notice Carm, I hid it well sometimes I even forgot about it. The bear, you? You let me forget, you let me feel so safe I forgot what he was doing to me”
Carmen reaches for your hand, holding onto it gently
You shake your head, shaking the tears along with it. You hadn’t so much as let yourself hear the truth of what had been happening, but it flowed out of your mouth like a river into Carmen.
“He got drunk one night” You whisper, biting your cheek as you bristle at the memory of it
“He got drunk one night, and started accusing me of these horrible things. Things I would never do. And when I tried talking to him he just turned to me with this look in his eyes, and it was so unlike him Carm. It was like someone else had come and taken his body, and his voice and his mouth”
“And when I reached for him he reached back. And then I suppose I got used to being afraid of him”
“I don’t know what changed that night, but it did. Or maybe he had always been that way and I had been to blind by the feeling of being wanted that I ignored it. But it got worse, he hit me, but he started controlling what I was doing. Always flinging my phone in my face so that he could look for something that wasn’t there, eyes always scrutinising me when I came home fucking exhausted from the Bear.”
“That was how it started, and I guess it never quite ended” You murmur, and when Carmen drags his thumb across your cheek, you understand the rage that he had kept covered for you.
“I’m going to hurt him. And that's more for me than it is for you, I know it and I don’t care. He doesn't get to walk away.” Carmen replies after a beat, and his voice is even. You can see his anger from before slipping into the darkness of his pupils, but his voice is clear and devoid.
“I know” You murmur
“And you’re going to stay with me till we get you a place. Tina and Syd offered and well the whole team, but I can’t-”
“I know, you can’t put them in danger”
“No. I can’t let it happen, you being alone, him somehow getting to you. You being hurt again-” Carmen shakes his head, grinding his jaw as he cuts his eyes away.
“Okay” You mumble, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of your secret that had weighed you down every day fall away.
The month after had passed quicker than any other time in your life. And for that you were grateful. You had packed a bag and moved into Carmen's apartment that night, and he and Richie had made good on their promise. They watched, as well as the rest of the Bear with a sneer as your fiance was carried into the police station, and you watched the mirror of your injuries multiplied across his face.
The police had been slow in taking action, even you know this, so you suppose their tight lipped expressions at the beaten man they found in your trashed apartment made up for that.
Carmen slept near the door for the first two weeks, a bat in his hand and his notebook of recipes filled with scribbled annotations. Tossing and turning enough times, made you wrap your blanket around yourself and join him by the door. You would wake up some nights, in a sweat from the terror of your nightmare imagining him somehow finding you, and you would join him those times as well.
The truth of all that had happened still had not yet been told, and you doubt that it ever will. But you were okay with that, and Carmen was too. And so when your fiance had been tried and sentenced, and the promise of broken bones hung over him even years after, Carmen had made no mention of finding you a place.
And so you stayed, and made a home for yourself. Let your shoes get muddled and clutter the hallway, have your toothbrush besides his own. Move in the last pieces of yourself that had been left in that prison to a place that could maybe change them.
You spent Thursdays with Richie, he’d wait at the foyer for you and he'd take you out for lunch like clockwork. Divulging in your week as he did his, he let you steal some of his cigarettes and you let him ramble to you. Richie had surprised you, when all was said and done. He had known what to do, knew how to talk to you, and you think you credit him to a lot of where you were now. You suppose he blames himself a little as well, so you don’t mind that Thursdays were his way of checking up on you.
You let the team act the same way, Tina bringing you plates of food and tupper wares of lasagna till Carmen's fridge was hard to open, Sydney calling every day, Ebra and Marcus making sure you had someone who could walk you home if Carmen had to stay back. And when you had finally had enough, they nodded and backed away and let you out of their grip.
You're crouched in the fire escape of Carmen's building, passing a bottle of wine that you had snuck from service.
“I visited him today”
“What?” Carmen replies, knowing immediately who you were talking about.
You shrug your shoulders, “I was too much of a mess to confront him, and the court proceedings left me too numb to even face him. But I went today, and I told him. What he had done, how he had changed.”
“But then he laughed and I punched him in his goddamn mouth”
“Atta girl” Carmen grins, his smile filling up the entire bottom of his face.
“So I can’t ever come back to the Boston Corrections facility, and boy am I glad. You know what this means though right?”
“Hm?” Carmen mumbles with a mouthful of street tacos
“You can’t ever get yourself thrown in prison” You chide, and you smile when he throws his head back in laughter
“Seriously Carm?” You bemoan, resting against the living room entryway
“Yes, the bed is strictly meant for you. What do you take me for? Letting a woman sleep on the couch” Carmen gruffs, carefully placing the duvet over the couch cushions.
“It’s been nearly a year since I’ve moved in, Carmen. I don’t think it's ridiculous to assume we can share a bed together”
Carmen grinds his jaw, swallowing back grunt at the thought of sharing a bed with you. As if it was no big thing, as if Carmen would be able to sleep with you next to him.
“It’s called being a host”
“I signed the lease 2 months ago, we’re technically de-facto” You raise your eyebrows, folding your hands across your chest
“The only time I’ll let the government decide what we are is when-if I put a ring on that finger” Carmen replies, the little slip causing him to cut his eyes from you and back to the duvet that was already folded.
You shake your head with a laugh “This you’re way of proposing Carm? Take a girl out for dinner first”
Carmen mumbles under his breath, flattening the duvet with his inked hands before his phone buzzes
“Goddamnit, that’s Richie.
“Leave that sofa and let's go down to meet our friends and have a nice time. God knows we’ve earned more than a few drinks at Nick’s” You reply, swiping Carmen’s phone
“Hey!”
“You weren’t even going to answer him” You roll your eyes.
You send Richie a text that was all apologetic and none grammatically correct as you shuffle out of your work pants into some jeans.
The team was already at the bear, halfway through the first round of drinks and you’d be damned if you let Carmen make the both of you late.
Carmen is in jeans as well, and the white shirt he always dons fits around his chest tightly. You can lie to yourself most days, but in times like this, where you both live in this domestic bubble your mind wanders.
You don’t let it too much.
But when you're visiting family, and you pass by the Louisiana welcome sign planted in the roadway, and the weather gets warm and the nights stretch out you let yourself think of him. You let yourself imagine a life where he was entwined, in you, your life, your days while you drink on the porch of your family home.
The thought of being in anything new scares you to no end, your past finds you in moments you least expect and dredges you down to the same feeling you felt when you were with him.
But Carmen was your past too wasn’t he? He was muddled and interlinked with all the memories that make your chest ache and your hands shake. Carmen didn’t feel new..you had already been living with each other for a year now, and you suppose the way you both flow into each other's lives was no different.
You’d be together, in the way you had always been but different also. You’d get to grow familiar of the taste of him, you’d get to feel him under your skin, beneath your fingers, and he’d sleep in that fucking bed for the first time in a year.
Then the sun would dip below the horizon, the sounds of the insects and birds would come back to you, and the creeping shadow of guilt and insecurity would remind you of who you were again.
You’d taste the bitter embarrassment of forcing Carmen to be that way with you, throwing your head back as you gulp down the beer in your hand as you try to stave away the taste. The dream disappears each time from you, like the oranges and reds that paint the Louisiana sky every evening.
“Hey, we going or what?” Carmen says, his eyes narrowing at, you noticing the way your eyes glaze over.
“Yeah, yes” You nod, swallowing the thoughts of him quickly as you finish tying your boots and let Carmen lock the door behind you.
The bar is surprisingly crowded on a Tuesday night, and you have to squeeze past crowds of leather wearing bikers before finally seeing the team seated in a long booth at the back.
“Finally!” Richie yells, hands in the air and his beer swishing out of the neck.
“We were about to send a search party” Tina smiles, looking toward you with a glint in her eyes when she notices Carmen’s arm at your back.
“Aren’t you guys like, a 2 minute walk from this place? Fak got here before you” Marcus replied, his old fashioned nursed in your arms.
“I had no involvement in our tardiness, he was too busy fixing his makeshift couch bed”
“Oh don’t tell me your still sleeping on that” Richie’s eyes widen
“You know that ain’t even a good couch right? We found it on the side of the road-“
“It’s not good for your back Carmen, all those cushions” Ebra shakes his head disapprovingly.
“It’s perfectly fine Ebra, and who would I be if I let a woman sleep on the couch?” Carmen grumbles, as both slide into the booth next to Sydney.
“I mean, there is an easy straightforward solution” Sydney murmurs, and everyone turns to her quickly.
“You could both just sleep in the same bed together” She replies, after looking at everyone dumbfounded.
“Only married people share a bed, that’s Sicilian tradition”
“Yeah, mixing work and personal life isn’t-“
“Mixing? They already live together!” Sydney replies, defensively.
“Wouldn’t be surprised if they’re already” Four murmured, before snapping his mouth closed when Carmen narrows his eyes to him.
“It’s not about fucking tradition, or whatever. I’m not gonna put her-you in that situation and make you uncomfortable”
“Why would you make me uncomfortable?” You murmur without thinking, and the booth goes quiet.
Carmen shakes his head, blinking as you remain quiet.
You wince at the silence, maneuvering your body quickly out of the booth as you almost fall out.
“Uh-I’m going to get a drink” You reply quickly
Carmen's body isn’t fast enough for his legs and he stands up from his position on the booth quickly, almost tumbling over.
“I’ll come with you”
You shake your head, forcing a tight smile as you wave him off.
“It’s okay, I know your order” You reply quickly, turning around without seeing the look on Carmen’s face.
You slide into one of the vacant barstools, signalling to the bartender as they make the rounds across the counter.
The rows of silver bracelets that hang around the bartender's wrists cling as they mix and shake drinks, and you let yourself get lost in the glittering light show of them reflecting off the bar lights. They distract you enough to not notice the man that now leers over you.
You flinch when you feel his hand touch your shoulder, and when you turn expecting one of the guys from the Bear you're taken back when you're met with a five o clock shadow and a stink of vodka.
“What's a girl like you doin’ all alone?”
“I’m good” You grit out from between your teeth
“Oh c’mon, you girls love to play hard but what you really need-”
“I said leave me alone asswhole” You spit, roughly moving his latched fingers from your shoulder.
The man sneers, his voice growing louder and sloppy as he begins to swear at you. His hands find their way to your waist, and the shiver of disgust turns into a familiar sharp pain as you shout out.
“You fucking bitch” The man starts, before you see the flash of dirty blonde curls cover your vision and the feeling of his fingers around you is wrenched off.
Carmen’s hands are around his neck, and he slams him into the wooden floors of the Bar with ease. He holds him there before turning to look up at you, his eyes blown out and his eyebrows furrowed behind his curls. Your chest heaves as you meet his gaze, and you watch as his eyes trail down your body, almost surveying the extent of your injuries and filing it into his mind so that it is all he thinks about when he breaks the skin across his knuckles.
You watch Carmen work, watch the way his shoulders and back contorts under every movement that lands a punch into the man's face. The buzzing chatter of the bar increases, as people begin to take notice of the shouts of frazzled swears and slobby slurs that leave the man's mouth. Someone screams there is a fight, and the bartender mutters obscenities as they try to push through the crowd.
Carmen lands punch after punch into his face, with no real sense of stopping as his movements grow more and more crazed with every crack of skin and dribble of blood that paints his hands. Carmen's eyes look determined, like he had a goal to all of this, and when Richie and the rest of the team pushes past the crowd and shouts out to him to stop, he looks up at you do you know.
You didn’t get to see what he had done to your husband, or how. But now, he takes his time with the man under him who kicks and fails, blubbering out blood and drool. He continues to stare at you, and the rest of the patrons look on in horror as the man under Carmen becomes disguised by the brutality of Carmens fists across his body. You hear the crack of bone, and when the man screams out a loose and garbled apology from the swollen tongue of his mouth, does Carmen flick his eyes down to him.
“You’re sorry? Yeah?” Carmen murmurs, softly
The man nods eagerly, his mouth filling with blood and his eyes swollen
“I’m not sure I believe that” Carmen replies, sending his foot into the mans stomach as he keels over
“Okay, Carmen that's enough” Richie calls out
“All I did was ask her a question!” The man screams out, his words jagged and unclear
“Hey, you shut the fuck up” Richie replies, before clocking his head to try and meet Carmens gaze who is back on you
“Look man, I get it. That one time wasn’t enough, but you can’t keep doing this”
Carmen grinds his teeth, as you look on in awe as his knuckles bleed violently, throwing his arm up and swinging down onto the man.
You got what you needed from this, and so when you step closer to Carmen and turn your head to the side you can only think of one thing
“I’m banned for at least 12 months”
You watch his fingers loosen around the man's bloody shirt, and Carmen wipes his hands across the man's chest before slowly straightening up from his crouched position.
“Get the fuck out, the both of you before the cops get here” The bartender grits out, shaking his head.
Carmen nods, “I’m not fucking sorry”
“Yeah yeah I know” The bartender rolls his eyes, before you grab Carmen's arm and push through the gawking faces of onlookers
You find a door leading out to a side alleyway, and you both fall out from the door into a combined heap.
“I had to do it okay? The way he was looking at you and that fucking hand around your side I couldn’t just let him-“ Carmen starts, chest heaving up and down and the splatter of spit and blood across his jaw
You don’t let him finish the rushed words that fall out of his mouth before you cover it with your own. Gripping onto the loose collar of his shirt, you drink down the anger and violence that had been festering on the both of you.
Carmen tastes sweet, like the cranberry jus he had been preparing, and rough too, like his worn workmen jacket and the pepper taste of his nicotine gum.
You realise then that you would never taste something as great as that, and that you would be chasing the feeling of how Carmen’s lips against your own vibrates through you from head to foot.
You pull away with quickness, chest heaving and eyes wide as you feel Carmen’s mouth warm your chest.
Carmen doesn’t blink, he stares at you, the brittle Chicago winter blowing his hair across his forehead and the distant sound of sirens and he stares at you.
“I’m not sorry” You whisper, pressing your lips together
“Good” Carmen replies before you’ve even uttered the last word.
And when you blink the cold smoke of his breath is over you again, his inked fingers cradle your head and he takes your mouth again.
You don’t stop the crash of your open mouths and dipping tongues until the warmth of Carmen covers you entirely, until November in Chicago feels like July.
taglist !
@kpopgirlbtssvt @hansfics @nolita-fairytale @parmforcarm @rooster-bradshaw
#neonovember#carmen berzatto#the bear#carmy the bear#the bear fx#carmen berzatto x fem!reader#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy berzatto#carmy berzatto x fem!reader#carmy berzatto x reader#carmen berzatto angst#angst x reader#angst with a happy ending#angst + fluff#carmen berzatto x fluff#carmen berzatto imagine#the bear season 3#richie jerimovich#ebra the bear#sydney adamu#found family#neowrites#requests open
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