#I need to find a job but I don't have a car so I'm stuck at home | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

headspace-hotel · 1 year

Note

Thinking of your post on the problems of veganism as a movement vs veganism as a lifestyle choice/one technique amongst many, that also applys super well to my issues with degrowth (And anticonsumerism as well) as a movement vs degrowth as one technique amongst many for dealing with the hydra-crisis of overproduction/resource overuse/destroying people and places for resources.

Like, in particular as an autistic person the continual recurring insistence that we need to just "change our desires" creeps me out. As someone who's difficulties were dismissed as just "having a bad attitude" and who's interests were so often dismissed as a waste of time instead of preparing for a job in the "real world" IDK if they truly understand the full horrifying implications of that line of thought.

So here's the thing with the concept of "overconsumption"

I had to do this whole project on overconsumption in my Anthropology class where I compared my consumption habits to those of someone 2 generations older, the prof clearly had in mind that we would discover a particular result that I did not end up finding.

I had to watch this documentary called "Affluenza" which was all about how Americans consume too much and they shop and buy things for fun and it's killing the planet, and it kept making these statements like "The average american does X..." and "X" would be something insane that I've never dreamed of doing.

Now I technically grew up below the poverty line, we were always financially insecure and struggling to pay bills and there was never any extra money lying around.

But my upbringing felt average, even privileged. We had a house instead of a trailer on cinder blocks, we had food and clothes. Compared to the upbringing of my mom and virtually everyone she knew growing up, we lived in fabulous luxury.

And the "overconsumption" lesson was bizarre to me because it brought up things like "going shopping for fun once a week" and "owning 20+ pairs of shoes" as if they were normal. I wear my clothes until they're unwearable and shop for clothes like once a year, and my mom has half as many clothes as I do. She feels guilty buying anything for herself and HATES shopping.

It feels like the dominant resources on living an eco friendly lifestyle presume that we have far more agency in what we buy and use than we actually do, instead of being stuck with the cheapest or closest available thing, and that our lives are full of extraneous, non-essential "consumption."

That class brought up the idea of "conspicuous consumption" a lot, or buying things to obtain social status instead of for their concrete utility. The way "conspicuous consumption" was addressed in the class was not very immediately relatable to me—I never had the option of buying clothes just to appear "with it" socially. My parents couldn't buy an extra car to fit the aesthetic of the American dream—we had enough trouble keeping the one we had running. The "conspicuous consumption" that class addressed was just not available to me.

However, I don't think conspicuous consumption is endemic to stable members of a certain socioeconomic status, because consumption is partially driven by the trauma of poverty. People who grew up poor will buy you more Christmas gifts than you can store or use, because they want to spare you the shame they experienced. Their brains are molded around the trauma of not having enough, and giving you enough is their way of keeping you safe.

Conspicuous consumption as a habit is pushed on you if your ancestors were shaped by this trauma. It is a misrepresentation to think of it as driven by pride, because your ability to perform the behaviors and mimic the appearances of a higher socioeconomic status has a concrete effect on how people treat you.

I know J.D. Vance is a nutjob now and Hillbilly Elegy was...not great (I'm more appalachian than you bitch, and I'm not even appalachian!) but the one thing that book got incredibly right was the idea of "social capital" and the way access to financial security and wealth gives you social capital. This is the main thing the current understanding of "conspicuous consumption" gets wrong—the need to escape the appearance and behaviors of poverty is seen as vain and self-indulgent, when it's a survival mechanism and it's something you're expected to engage in to gain opportunities and respect.

Poverty is humiliating. People with money never think about the fact that they have money. They think of themselves as average, if they think of themselves in terms of socioeconomic status at all. Being poor ends up embedded in the grooves and folds of your brain.

I remember when I was about 12, I gave my friend an informal tour of our house the first time she came over, showing her every room. I realized later that this wasn't exactly a normal behavior—I had done it because my mom did the same thing when she brought her friend over, and my mom had done it because it was a way of saying look, I survived. Look, I have a place to live to call my own, isn't this nice?

At its worst, anti-consumerism just reinforces the myth that your consumption is purely a matter of personal choice. And unfortunately when the conversation is ruled by the privileged, this idea will appear substantiated—because rich people can choose the aesthetics of poverty without concretely affecting the way the world treats them. A rich person can choose to live in a "tiny house" but they will never be "trailer trash."

Anti-consumerism revolves around ideas that are almost irreparably tainted by the mythology of an unequal society. Rich people possess and control the aesthetic of restraint and frugality, allowing them to playact living a Simple Life where they live in a tiny minimalist cottage and eat Healthy Vegan Oat Gruel, while McDonalds is the emblem of American excess. It is poor people's behaviors and habits that exemplify excess and greed.

Anti-consumerism isn't going to change anything until it openly confronts the fact that poverty is traumatic and consumption patterns often arise from poverty survival mechanisms.

#random #overconsumption #anticonsumerism #was in my drafts for a long time wow

1K notes · View notes

jo-harrington · 3 months

Text

Developmental Achievement (A Store Manager Verse Story - Steve Harrington/Reader)

Previous Part: Incremental Planning

Pairing: Steve Harrington x HawkTheaterManager!Reader

Summary: Steve messed up and now he needs to fix things if he wants to win you back, hopefully for good.

Warnings/Themes: AU where the Upside Down doesn't terrorize Hawkins. November through January 1986, Steve and Robin work at Scoops (OR DO THEY?), Reader works at The Hawk Theater (formerly at Dippin' Dots AND Wicks and Sticks; you job hop...it's a thing), Relationship Break, Hopeless [Romantic] Steve, Tie in with the Store Manager Verse

Note: So this is the end of our Steve saga of the SMVerse, kind of wrapped up in a neat little bow. Is it the best? Probably not, but it's silly and corny and cheesy and I needed all of those things yesterday and instead of RELEGATING IT TO MY FIRST FAVE...I'll inflict it upon Stevie. Tagging @dr-aculaaa and @loveshotzz because COME AND GET HIM. (@deathbecomesthem ...and a possible Easter Egg?)

You can find my masterlist here for more fics featuring pretty much exclusively Eddie Munson content but also a little Steve.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

Steve Harrington fucked up.

Ok. Ok. That’s not right.

Steve Harrington really fucked up.

If he was being honest, he always seemed to fuck up when it came to you, his...well...he could really only call you his ex now, couldn't he?

From rivals in ice cream where he missed every sign that you might like him, to sickeningly-sweet dates around Hawkins because he was being too boring of a boyfriend, and finally to Thanksgiving Dinner with his parents where he absolutely stuck his foot in his mouth.

He thought making a joke about your job-hopping was funny--from Dippin' Dots to Wicks and Sticks to KB Toys, it's lucky you decided he was worth sticking around for--but it only put you under his parents' scrutiny.

He got an earful as he walked you to your car after dinner was over. You stayed a few steps ahead of him until you got to the driver's door and turned to him with tears in your eyes.

"That was embarrassing, Steve," you said through clenched teeth.

"I'm sorry, I..." he was at a loss for words, especially making you cry. As strong as you were, you never seemed to be flustered at all; what was happening? "I thought it was a joke. We always laugh about it. I’m gonna work at scoops forever and you’re gonna work everywhere else."

"But it’s meeting your family, you shouldn't joke about...about what a huge flake I am that you're lucky I don't jump from boyfriend to boyfriend just like I go from job to job. They're never gonna look at me the same way again. You only get one first impression."

"You shouldn't worry about what they think about you. I've stopped caring about what they think about me too."

It went back and forth before you threw your hands up and got in the car.

You didn't even kiss him goodnight.

Then sometime during Black Friday weekend, you stopped by Scoops before your shift and broke up with him.

"It was nice, Steve," you said, barely able to look at him. "But uh...I don't know. I need to know I'm with someone who doesn't think I'm some kind of joke."

He chased after you, even with his manager screaming that if he left he'd be fired, and begged you to reconsider.

You didn't.

He watched you ride up the escalator to head to your shift.

And when he got back to Scoops, he was actually fired.

What a great day.

---

Of course, Robin quit as soon as Steve was fired.

"Can't stick it out without you dingus," Robin announced as she approached him in the parking lot shortly after, tossing her hat at him. "And you can't have Scoops without...Stoops. Get it? Because you're stupid. Scoops? Stoops? Stupid. Why aren't you laughing?"

It was pretty funny.

But Steve was heartbroken.

Unemployed and heartbroken.

Robin insisted that she could land them both jobs at Family Video--

"Keith hates me. Pretty sure he calls me Sleeze Harrington."

“Well he loves me. I can vouch for you, come on."

--but Steve was sure that he would have a better chance at winning you back if he kept working at StarCourt.

What an epic bust that was.

Not the job part.

Well, that too.

Most of the stores near the toy store were done hiring seasonal help, and the best that he could land was a temp job as a Mall Santa.

On the upside, it meant that he could walk around the mall on break in his Santa suit and watch you with you none the wiser until he could beg you to take him back.

"It sounds creepy," was the unfortunate response from Steve's newest friend and personal relationship expert, the Claire's Store Manager.

He stopped by before his shift to pick up some of his lucky strawberry lipgloss to make sure he was very pouty and puckery for the moment you realized you'd made a mistake...and after effectively getting it all over his fake beard, the Manager decided to take pity on him and listen to his woes while helping him clean up.

"I'm gonna need to start charging you for advice," she laughed and wiped him off with tissues from the ear piercing station. "You seriously need it if that's the idea you came up with."

"You're a real Lucy Van Pelt," Steve deadpanned. "I'll buy you cookies one day just...please...help me."

"Have you tried just talking?" she questioned. "Wasn't that your problem in the first place? Way back when? You didn't communicate."

"But they're mad at me, they don't want to talk. And I need to fix it."

"Then give them some space, and try again, ok? Give it a week or two. They probably just need time to cool down, sounds like you really hurt their feelings."

"And if they can't forgive me?"

"Then you move on," she sighed. "Sometimes things just don't work out and even though it doesn't make you feel ok, you have to be ok with it."

So he waited a week.

A week was long enough, right? His own personal Lucy said so.

He chose a day he wasn't scheduled at Santa's workshop and waited for you in the food court where he knew you'd seek refuge during your lunch break, just like the two of you had taken your breaks together. He wore his best polo, made sure his hair was perfect, applied some of his lucky lip gloss and waited.

And waited.

But you never showed up.

Not during your usual break. Not an hour later. Not even at the supposed end of your shift.

Maybe you were working a double?

So as much as he told himself he wouldn't follow you because it was creepy, he ran up the escalator two steps at a time to KB Toys where you would surely be.

Or not.

"They don't work here anymore kid," your former manager sighed after he asked about you. "I'm sorry."

"W-well where did they go?" he asked frantically, pathetically.

"Didn't say, not really my business to ask. Put in their notice...right after Black Friday, actually. Right before the Christmas rush too."

If he was heartbroken before...his heart was just gone now. Obliterated. Non-existent.

Along with any hope of trying to win you back.

---

Steve stuck through the rest of the holiday season at the mall; you could call him many things but a quitter wasn't one of them. However, come the new year, he needed a new job again, and he took up Robin's offer to butter Keith up and get in at Family Video.

He was offered an opening key shift, a decent employee discount, a better paycheck than both Scoops and Santa's workshop combined, and unlimited access to choose the movie playing overhead whenever he was in charge.

"You're lucky the other person I was about to hire bailed," Keith said after his first week. "Got a job at the Hawk or something. Can't blame 'em. Free popcorn and all that."

The distraction helped the heartache.

Surprisingly, he got a few phone numbers. Nothing ever came of them, nursing a broken heart the way he was, but it was nice. He'd been tempted to call you, several times in fact, but in the end he just decided fate knew better. Still, he denied himself the role of Hawkins' resident heartthrob.

"Are you hearing yourself right now?" Robin scoffed at him as he scrubbed off yet another phone number that had been written onto the palm of his hand by one customer or another. "Resident Heartthrob. Seriously? Ok Cassanova."

"What else do you wanna call it?" he asked, holding his arms out helplessly. "They can't resist the Harrington Charm, even when I don't want to use it."

"It's because you keep putting on sappy romance movies when you're here. Girls like that shit, a guy in touch with his feelings."

"First Nancy and then..." he trailed off, thinking about you sadly. He had to let you go.

"Are you kidding me?" Robin hit him upside the head and shoved him out of the way so she could start processing returns. "You can't even say their name? You need to get over it."

"It's hard."

"Were they your soulmate or something?"

"Robin, all men must...have someone who will never take advantage of a love bright as the sun."

"Love?"

"Someone to stand beside them."

"You're quoting the Monkees now."

"They were the one," Steve lamented. "And now they're--"

He trailed off as his eye landed on something outside the window.

"They're what? On the Last Train to Clarksville?" She made a buzzer noise. "Try again."

"No they're walking in right now, act casual," Steve announced and started typing away at the keyboard of the computer.

The doorbell chimed as you set foot inside Family Video and Steve glanced up to get a look at you for the first time in weeks.

Ok, so maybe he was being a little pathetic with this heartache.

Maybe it wasn't that bad for him.

It was pretty bad.

But when your eyes met, Steve could just tell...it had to have been just as bad for you too.

Because he knew you by now. How many months had you been dating? Dates and lunches and breaks spent together. Was it love? Maybe. Probably. Even if it wasn't, it was damn near close to it. So he knew the way your eyes lost their sparkle a little bit when they landed on him, knew the way your shoulders sagged, knew the words that refused to escape your lips when you saw him.

Stevie Stew. Pookie Bear. Dumb dumb. All the pet names he missed too.

Robin greeted you with an exaggerated lengthening of your name and a pointed glare shot directly at Steve.

"Hey Rob," you cleared your throat and offered a strained grin. "How are you? Didn't know you were working here."

Your eyes shifted to Steve and then back to Robin.

"Either of you."

"I've been here since before Christmas," Robin leaned against the counter as you approached and thumbed over her shoulder at Steve. "And of course dingus over here just couldn't stay away."

"You're the dream team, of course," you nodded. "Scoops Troop. But, uh, not anymore I guess."

"We're workshopping a new name."

The two of you laughed and then you excused yourself to peruse the shelves for a new movie. Robin even offered to show you some new tapes with a low pull it together hissed at Steve as she rounded the counter to show you a new display.

Steve willed himself to say something, Do something. Anything. Say hello, walk over and suggest a new movie, say that it was good to see you, that he missed you.

Communicate, god damn it.

But he was frozen.

Even more when you and Robin returned a few minutes later debating which John Hughes flick you should get: Sixteen Candles or Weird Science.

"You could always get both," Steve suggested, the words rocketing out of his mouth violently as you reached the register.

"Uh, yeah, actually..." you nodded. "That's a good idea, I think I will."

Steve typed in all the information and got your rentals rung out, and as he asked if you wanted candy or popcorn, you laughed.

"You know what, I'm actually all candy and popcorn'd out," your smile faltered when your eyes met again. "I'm...uh...you know."

"Know what?" Steve asked dumbly.

"I'm over at the Hawk," you nodded. "New shift manager and everything. I was...I was actually supposed to work here when Mr. Phillips offered me a dollar more at the theater. And the popcorn didn't hurt."

"I didn't know that," Steve shook his head.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

You and Steve stared at each other for another long, drawn out minute.

You opened your mouth to say something--

"Can we ta--"

--before Steve, idiot that he was, pushed your tapes across the counter at you and practically shouted at you.

"Your rental's due back on Friday by 2pm, enjoy."

Robin gave him the silent treatment for the rest of his shift.

---

"Do I show up with flowers?"

"Flowers?"

"What's that voice, you don't like flowers?"

"Not really."

There he was, back at Claire's the following day, sitting in the chair at the Ear Piercing Station as the manager restocked the jewelry wall. A bag of fresh chocolate chip cookies from the food court sat on top of the station and the two of them periodically reached in for a treat as Steve regaled her with his tale.

"I know they miss me, I just know it."

"Then why did you freeze up?"

"Because I'm an idiot. Help. Please."

So far, the manager hadn't really been able to offer him much advice outside of a shoulder to cry on and a listening ear. Especially now as he planned a way to win you back.

"Everyone likes flowers," Steve argued skeptically. "You're telling me Munson hasn't gotten you roses or something?"

The shop bell rang, a chain rattled, and leather squeaked, and instead of the manager answering with a gentle tone and an eye roll like she'd been doing all day, Eddie Munson himself chimed in.

"If I was a jealous man," he started with an exaggerated glare at Steve. "I would say you're here flirting with my girlfriend."

Eddie "The Freak" Munson was somehow the Dad to Steve's reluctant Mom when it came to the ragtag gang of Freshman that they shared role-model-ship of, and because of that their previous animosity had been turned into some kind of...agreement.

Could Steve say Eddie was a bad guy? No. Was he still wondering why the kids liked him so much? Yes. Could the two of them get along? Up for debate.

Which was why Steve wasn't so concerned when the metalhead was feigning some kind of intimidation tactic; they had an agreement that went from unspoken to shaken on come the new year: No fighting in front of the kids, no making fun of each other's hair, no stealing Eddie's girlfriend.

"What are you doing here?" the manager laughed at the two boys antics and crossed her arms over her chest. "Don't you have school?"

"I came to ask you a very important question," Eddie smiled a lovesick smile at her, Steve momentarily ignored. "But imagine my surprise when someone else is sitting in my spot."

"It's not your spot. And I'm giving him advice."

"Again?"

"He's hopeless, apparently."

"I'm right here," Steve exclaimed and got to his feet, ready to leave. "I didn't come here to be made fun of. I actually need help."

He didn't like the way Eddie clapped him on the shoulder, or steered him out of the store, or gave him a patronizing smile.

"Listen," Eddie started once they were out of the store. "I know you're having some issues but seriously, you need to get your act together."

"And how should I do that Munson? I've thought of everything and your girlfriend keeps telling me that my ideas are stupid."

"I'm sure they are stupid," Eddie nodded. "I trust her judgment."

"What would you do to win her back? If you fucked up?"

"I wouldn't fuck it up, Number one," Eddie smirked. "Even at the risk of jinxing myself there. Rule Number One in the Munson Relationship Doctrine, don't fuck it up."

"Well that page is missing from the Harrington Relationship Doctrine, because I clearly went and did that."

"Rule Number Two," Eddie continued, ignoring Steve. "Is by making a grand and personal gesture. Didn't you ask Nancy Wheeler to Junior Prom by having the cheer squad perform a routine just for her a few years ago."

"Yeah that took a lot of begging," Steve nodded eagerly, already formulating a plan. "But I could do it again if I--"

"I heard she hated it," Eddie shot a sour expression. "So no, not that."

"Then I'm out of ideas," Steve admitted.

Eddie threw his head back and groaned, and Steve was sure he heard him say something along the lines of and Buckley called him Hawkins Heartthrob.

"Listen," Eddie recovered, tightened his grip on Steve's shoulder with one hand, and jabbed him in the chest with the other hand. "Don't ever say that I didn't do anything for you ok? Where does your friend work? The Hawk?"

"How do you know that?"

"News travels fast when you're friends with 5 freshmen and Robin Bigmouth Buckley ok?" Eddie shook his head. "Now listen to me. Your friend works at the theater? Showing movies right? And what are movies made of?"

"Film?"

"Sure. And the kids...Dustin...what club is he part of at school?"

"Uh...Hellfire Club. Chess Club..."

"AV Club," Eddie insisted with an exaggerated nod. "And where do you work?"

"Family Video."

"And what is in a vid--you know what?" Eddie groaned. "I don't have time for this. How are you not putting two and two together Harrington?"

"I don't know what I'm supposed to be putting together."

"What they all have in common?"

Steve took a second as Eddie leaned closer expectantly, as though trying to transmit his idea through osmosis because Steve was just not getting it.

Until the osmosis was successful and Steve had his lightbulb moment.

"Oh!"

"There you go!" Eddie's face stretched with a feral grin. "I see the wheels turning. Ladies and Gentleman, I believe a plan is underway."

---

It took a little more than a week, the combined efforts of the AV Club and Hellfire Club, and a good chunk out of Steve's paycheck for supplies and to bribe them all and the projectionist at the Hawk.

But the plan was in place.

Steve found out your schedule, bought tickets for a 5pm show of Hey there, It's Yogi Bear.

There couldn't have been a worse movie to choose, but it was the only one he could buy out the theater for.

He showed up to the Hawk promptly at 4:30, got his soda and popcorn, and hung around the lobby impatiently. He was pretty sure he'd ruined his hair from the number of times he'd run his hand through it.

Slowly his friends started to filter in: The Sinclair kids and Max, Mike Wheeler and Will Byers with Nancy and Jonathan in tow--that wouldn't be nerve-wracking or embarrassing at all if the plan didn't work out. At some point, Eddie's van pulled up in front of the Theater and Dustin, Jeff, Gareth, and Dave all walked in bickering about nachos and sour worms, before Eddie and the Claire's Store Manager followed suit, Eddie telling his friends to shut up.

Steve was beginning to sweat at 4:55 when Robin ran in, hand in hand with a new girlfriend that he'd seen waiting for Rob when he dropped her off at school in the morning.

That he'd been maybe a little too in his own head about you to hear Robin rave about for the past few months. He really did feel bad about that.

"Thought you were gonna be late," he accused Robin.

"Me? Late?" she beamed. "Never. Do we have time to grab candy?"

"Just go," he waved them off, then shot Robin a secret thumbs up as she pointed to her crush excitedly, then got nervous when he spotted you across the lobby, talking to one of the ushers.

You faltered when you locked eyes with him, waved back when he sent you a little hello, and then you scurried into the box office.

He allowed himself one more moment of heartache. Then at 5 on the dot, Steve entered the theater and sat in the back row, as close to the projection window as he could get.

The previews started, and for a moment, Steve looked at all his...well, they were all his friends now, weren't they? Here to support him on this hare-brained endeavor. He suddenly felt loved in a way that he didn't think he'd ever felt before, not like this.

The only thing missing was you.

Suddenly the projection started skipping, and he could hear his accomplice in the projection booth shuffle around, then a door opened and closed.

"And so it begins," Eddie said dramatically a few rows ahead.

"Shut up, you're gonna give it away!" Dustin shouted at him.

Everyone started chattering until Steve sent them all a shhhhh when he heard the projection booth door open and shut again and your voice, clearly irritated, started speaking.

"What do you mean it isn't working? Did you try...I don't know...unplugging it and plugging it back in? Re-roll the film and try it again...here let me see..."

Steve felt himself shake with anticipation as the projector started up again, but the images on the screen were decidedly not Yogi Bear and Boo Boo.

"What the hell?" you exclaimed.

On the screen were pictures of you and Steve, all the polaroids and film strips from the little Photo Booth at Starcourt that you'd taken together over the months of your relationship. The ticket from the aquarium that he'd saved. The note you'd pinned to his back one morning when you hugged him before his shift that said "Steve Harrington is a loser."

He heard your snort as the scene panned up to a shot of himself sitting at the desk in his room writing a letter, shot on the Wheeler family's camcorder. The Steve on the screen looked up into the camera and startled.

"Oh," he laughed. "Didn't see you there. It's been a long time, hasn't it? I uh...I really wanted to talk to you and figured there wasn't a better way than writing a letter."

"Nerd," you called through the projection window, garnering laughs from his friends.

The scene faded to Movie Steve in a turtleneck skipping rocks at Lover's Lake in a very artistic shot that Director Dustin was apparently "proud of."

"But a picture is worth a thousand words so I'm pretty sure a video is worth a million." Movie Steve said your name sadly and looked deep into the camera. "I messed up, I was an idiot and a jerk and only took my own feelings into consideration when I made that joke to my parents. I don't care how they felt about you because I'm past the point of caring how they feel about me. My screw ups.

"And unfortunately I made the biggest screw-up of my life that night. I might not care what they think about me...but I care what you think about me."

The scene changed once again, Movie Steve leaning over the counter at Family Video filling out a form on a clipboard.

"There are a million better movies out there than this one you're watching right now Honey, but none of them are able to show just how truly sorry I am, and how much I miss you. I know that we still need to talk things out in person but I hope this shows how much I'm willing to put in the work so you'll forgive me."

A few rows ahead, he could hear Eddie speak along with Movie Steve, he leaned into his girlfriend and said "I wrote that line. Pretty good, right?"

"Uh huh," she pushed his head away from her. "Sap."

Eddie turned back to look at Steve and shot him a thumbs-up.

The scene changed one last time to a panning shot of Steve walking out of StarCourt mall towards his car.

"This is your chance to decide now. I wouldn't blame you if you chose never to talk to me again. I'll wait outside once your shift is over, but I'll respect your choice either way. I miss you Honey, and I love you."

Movie Steve got in the car and drove away into the sunset, only for the camera to pan over to Corroded Coffin playing a sweet ballad that Steve knew was your favorite.

The screen faded to black and the audience erupted into applause before the real previews resumed and the eventual movie.

Steve listened intently for some sign of life from the projection booth, but aside from a few footsteps and the door opening and closing again, there was nothing.

After the movie was over and all of his friends went their respective ways, Steve sat by his car until the end of your shift. When the last lights of The Hawk marquee finally turned off and the employees all started filing out, he knew he was holding his breath.

The last person out of the building was you, and as you turned around and spotted him, you stopped in your tracks.

Just like the other day at Family Video, it was a standoff between you and Steve, and although Steve wished that you would just come running into his arms to kiss him, insisting your forgiveness, he knew things were never that easy.

"That, uh...was something," you finally broke the silence.

"It was, wasn't it," he agreed.

"Was that your idea?" you asked. "Pretty sure those were all your friends in there."

"Yeah I bought out the whole theater."

"You bought...seriously?"

"I wanted to make sure you weren't embarrassed...in case anyone else saw."

"And I wouldn't be embarrassed by your friends?" you scoffed.

"Well they all helped me make it so I think I was more embarrassed asking them all for help than you." You let out a long sigh and put your face in your hands and Steve started talking rapid-fire. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I know that sucks when...when I already did. But I promise I'll do better. I'll be better. I'll be anything you need me to be, I just...I need you back."

You said something but it was muffled by your hands.

"What?"

"I said," you pulled them away and looked up at him with watery eyes, and he felt his heart drop again. "Do you really love me? You said so...at the end of that...whatever that was."

"I mean...yeah I guess I do."

"You guess?" you laughed.

"I do!" Steve said with more confidence this time. "I do love you. I'm...sorry I didn't say anything sooner."

"I'm sorry you didn't either," you muttered. You closed the distance and grabbed the lapels of Steve's jacket in your hands, as though you were about to shake him. "Do you know...the real reason I was upset?"

"There's...a real reason?" he asked.

"Why I broke up with you."

"Oh. Uh...no."

"I mean," you took a great breath of confidence. "Yeah I was mad because you made me seem like a joke to your parents on Thanksgiving, and I know...I know their opinion doesn't mean that much to you. But after I left it got me thinking...what if you made a joke like that...because I was a joke. And maybe thats why nothing was ever coming of our relationship because it was just...you didn't care about me. You didn't...love me, the same way I loved you."

Steve felt the invisible hand clench around his heart; it was like Nancy all over again.

"Loved?" he whispered weakly, the sense of deja-vu undeniable. "Honey..."

"So I had to end it. To protect myself. And I took a long hard look at myself when I got to work. The what? Third job I had since I started at StarCourt? I realized that maybe...I was a joke. Maybe you were right, that I was...this job-hopping, unreliable...thing and that's why I quit. And I started looking...for a management position somewhere so I could be better."

"But you were already great," Steve assured. "Can we get back to that...loved thing?"

"Steven..."

"Sorry."

"Let me finish."

"Ok."

"And you know what I found out since I've been here?" you asked. "I...kind of hate working at a movie theater. And I need to leave again. I'm...I'm a free spirit. I can't be tied down to one kind of job. I saw an ad in the paper for an arts and crafts instructor at the Park District and I sort of wanna quit before applying, I would be great at that."

"You would," Steve laughed, still unsure of where this was going.

It was always a bit of a rollercoaster with you though, and it was another thing about you that he loved.

"So...tonight seeing all of that," you waved an arm behind you at the theater. "Seeing you...realizing that you loved me all along...I don't know. I don't need your love to keep being who it is that I am, it's just nice to know that you love me, the same way I love you."

"Love me?" he asked hopefully.

"Yeah."

He whispered your name desperately and then cupped your face in his hands.

"I love you Honey."

"I love you too, Steve Harrington."

You pulled him into you and smashed your lips to his. The heartbreak faded away from both of you, and in its place, undeniable love and affection for each other.

Steve Harrington might have been many things, he might have fucked up.

But he was happy to say he was someone who could fix it.

With love.

#Steve harrington x reader #Steve harrington fic #Steve harrington fluff #store manager verse #stranger things fic #Steve harrington stranger things

131 notes · View notes

he4rtsforjoao · 6 months

Text

PART WAYS ꕥ João Felix

Warnings: bunch of angst?

Description: João thinks it’s best to stay away from each other.

Pairings: João Felix x F!Reader

Author note: I’m back😝 send in those requestssssss

『••✎••』

From the very beginning, both you and João were fully aware of the ramifications that came with being in a relationship. João's frequent travels to play matches out of town and your demanding job as an actress made it nearly impossible for you to be there for him during his games. As much as you longed to support him wholeheartedly, the reality was that you had to prioritize your filming commitments, even if it meant sacrificing being by João's side. There were moments where João would plead you to give up your acting career entirely, after seeing all his teammates girlfriends/wife’s be there to support them. Yet, deep down, you knew that you couldn't yield to his requests. You had invested countless years of hard work and dedication to reach the position you were in, and surrendering it all over a single demand was simply inconceivable.

You were currently on the set of a new popular series where you played the lead role. You were aware that João had an important game scheduled today, but due to the numerous retakes you had to endure, you could hardly find a moment to sneak away and catch a glimpse of the game or even send him a text to inquire about his progress. When you finally wrapped up on set around 1 am the first thing you did was check your phone, you were surprised to find zero messages from João, especially since you had sent one earlier at 3 pm before the game had even begun. You reached out to your contact and persistently dialed his number until he answered on the final ring. "Hello?" His tired voice pierced through the phone "Hey, how did the game go today? I wasn't able to catch much of it." He hummed, pausing briefly before responding, "Yeah, it was alright. We managed to secure a victory, 1-0." A smile showed up on your face.

"That's good news, isn't it? Why do you sound so down?" You inquire, noticing the lackluster tone in his voice. "I'm not sure, y/n. I've been contemplating some things," he responds, causing anxiety to surge within you as you enter your car and lock the doors. "About what?" You probe, flipping on the engine but remaining stationary, not daring to drive until you uncover the specifics of his concerns. He pauses once more, exhaling a heavy sigh into the phone, "I'm uncertain. Something in our relationship has been weighing me. I just don't see us progressing any further. You're stuck in your acting career, that even when I'm home, we barely see each other before you leave to go film. As for me, constantly jetting around the globe, you can't even join me for a game." You braced yourself, knowing this conversation was unlikely to conclude on a positive note.

“I know João, but you also have to know I do try my best to support you, even if my career seem to always stand in the way. And I know you have always told me countless of times to just quit cause I have you to help me, but what you don’t seem to comprehend is the part where im not at that point where I want to let my career go already“ your palms began to sweat, as you become increasingly anxious

“see y/n this is what I’m talking about. You don’t seem to try to put effort into this and it kills me. That’s why I just think it’s better we end this relationship for the best of us. Right now it isn’t a perfecting timing and we need to let that sink in..” he pauses for a moment “I have to go bye” before you could even share your thoughts on all of this, he abruptly ends the call, leaving you stunned by the rapidity of it all.

#joao felix angst #joao felix smut #joao felix fluff #joao felix x reader #joao felix #fluff #smut #angst #football imagines #soccer player x reader #world cup imagines #football x reader #joão felix imagines

183 notes · View notes

justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms · 7 months

Text

Forced Proximity

In honour of the FnaF movie coming out, I wanted to write something. I was inspired by a cosplay video by astrocadet on TikTok and that video's comments section, so credit to them!

When does this happen in the timeline? Who knows. Which pizzeria is the reader working at? Why is Michael called Michael and not one of his (possible) aliases? What year is this happening in? Why does the timeline for this game make no sense? These aren't important questions right now. Also yes, I'm using Michael's in-game sprite for the picture; you can picture him however you want. Hope you like the fanfic!

Fandom: Five Nights at Freddy's

Characters: Michael Afton x day shift! gn! Reader

Word count: 2.1k (2,122 words)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you realise you left your bag at work, you don't think much of it at first. But when you remember your keys are in said bag, you have no choice but to go back to Freddy Fazbear's. But your co-worker, the night guard is acting strange and when you get stuck in the office together, who knows what will happen?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Damn." You rested your head against the steering wheel. Of course you forgot your bag. And of course your house keys were in your bag.

Why you hadn't just put your car keys with your bag instead of in the key bowl at work, you had no idea. If you'd just done what you always do and put all of your stuff together, you wouldn't be sitting outside your house with no way of getting in.

You really needed to stop procrastinating and get that spare key made.

But, for now, there was nothing to do but drive twenty minutes back to Freddy Fazbear's and get your keys.

You turned the car back on and began driving back to your place of occupation. Why were you working at Freddy Fazbear's? After everything you'd read about it in the newspapers, you weren't really sure. The pay wasn't bad, but you knew you could get a better job. Maybe it was just morbid curiosity that held you there. Maybe if you hung around long enough, you'd find out what had happened to all those missing kids.

You'd never been in the pizzeria after hours. You knew there was a night guard but beyond talking a few times at staff meetings and the one Christmas party that had been held, you didn't really know much about him. Michael. You were pretty sure that was his name. He was sort of cute in a "crush on the guy on the bus" kind of way.

The drive passed faster than you thought, your mind filled with thoughts of work and your co-worker. Before you realized it, you were pulling into the parking lot of Freddy Fazbear's. The lights were off inside, and the doors were locked. You knew, you'd locked them yourself before leaving. Of course you had keys for the pizzeria and not your own house.

You locked your car and walked to the door. This place was way creepier at night-time. You'd have to try harder to remember your keys so you could avoid a repeat of this, no matter how cute your co-worker was.

The key turned with a loud clunk. you heard it echo off the concrete walls and linoleum floors. You pushed the door open. The room inside was dark, the only light reflecting off the security cameras in the corners of the room.

Thankfully, you knew your way around the place well enough that you could make your way around in the low lighting. But you could feel the hairs standing up on the back of your neck. Something felt off.

You stepped into the staff room and quickly found your bag where you had left it. You opened it and ran a hand through the contents. You’d be damned if your keys weren’t in there. But no, your keys were exactly where you thought they would be, in the inside pocket next to your staff id.

You closed your bag again and turned to leave. But halfway across the room you heard a loud thud from somewhere in the building. You jumped.

Could it be intruders? What was the security guard doing not patrolling the halls? You stood, locked in place. You knew you should just leave. You weren’t even supposed to be here. And it was already about 1 o’clock and you had the opening shift which started at 6. You were barely going to get 4 hours of sleep if you left right now.

But some strange duty of care made you stop. It wouldn’t hurt to just have a quick look around, or at least check in on the security guard. Maybe he was asleep? You sighed. Who needed sleep anyway?

You made your way through the halls, your shoes squeaking ever so slightly against the plastic lined floors. The noise seemed especially loud in the oppressive silence.

Suddenly a bright light flashed across your eyes from somewhere to your right. You stepped back, trying to shield your face.

“Oh my god, it’s just you.”

You lowered your hand as the light dropped to the floor. After the glare, the room in front of you seemed even darker than it should have. You could barely make out the figure inside, but you knew from the voice that it was your co-worker. Michael.

“Hey,” You tried for a calm greeting but the shake in your voice made it sound anything but, “Sorry, I left my bag here and-”

“Get in here.” You felt Michael grab your arm and pull you into the small security office. You began to protest at the rough treatment, but Michael shushed you before you could say anything. He pressed a button behind you and the door you’d just been pulled through closed with a metallic clank.

Your eyes now adjusted to the dim light, you shot Michael a questioning look. He ignored you, looking at the footage being shown on the television sitting on the table in front of him. Then, he pressed the button again and the door opened.

He leant back in his chair. “Sorry about that. You just needed to…uh…you being in the hallways would have messed with my check in on the rooms. Might have thought you were an intruder or something.”

His excuse seemed feeble and he looked like he knew it. He tried for what you assumed was meant to be a welcoming smile but instead came across as forced. “So, what are you doing here?”

“Like I was saying before I got pulled in here, I left my bag. And my keys. So I had to come back before I could get into my house.”

Michael’s eyes darted towards the screen, then to the clock. You followed his gaze. Already 2am. Time sure was passing quickly tonight. You were starting to give up on the idea of getting any sleep. Maybe you’d just have sleep in your car and then have a nap during your lunch break. You began backing towards the door.

“Well, I should go, let you get back to your work-”

“No! I mean…” Michael cleared his throat, “uh, you can’t leave right now. It’s not safe.”

You raised an eyebrow. “No safe?”

Michael nodded, eyes again darting to the screen.

“And why is it not safe? I made it here didn’t I?”

A pause. Then Michael sighed. “I don’t really know how to explain it without sounding like I’m crazy.”

You were pretty sure that ship had long since sailed. There was no way this guy was fit to be a night security guard. Or at the very least, being alone in this place every night was starting to get to him.

Michael beckoned you forward. You took a tentative step. He pressed the button again and the door closed once more. You were getting more and more concerned. Was this just a set up? Were you going to show up on the news tomorrow, the latest victim of a serial killer who was hiding as the security guard at Freddy Fazbear’s?

But then Michael pointed at the screen, you leant forward, trying to see the room clearly through the grainy footage. It was the hallway on the other side of the door. For a few seconds, there was nothing. Then a figure ran down the hallway. You could hear metal clanging as the figure passed the door, before the noise faded into the distance.

Michael pressed the button and the door opened.

“Why are you opening the door?” Your voice was shriller than you would have liked.

"We can’t use too much power."

"What do you mean we can’t use too much power?"

"This place only has a limited amount of power available each night. I have to be careful how I use it." Michael pointed to the green bar at the bottom of the screen. The words above it read “power remaining: 50%”.

“And what was that thing?” You could feel yourself beginning to shake. Shock was setting in fast that you’d expected.

“Foxy.”

You laughed. You couldn’t help it. “Foxy? You’re telling me that was Foxy? The animatronic from Pirate’s Cove? The one that gets shut down every night before we close up? The one that couldn’t be running down the hall because that’s not in its code?”

Michael nodded.

“Uh huh. And you want me to think you’re not crazy?”

Michael sighed. “It gets worse believe me.”

“Oh really?” You could hear the hysteria creeping into your voice. Because if that really was Foxy, you sure didn’t want to be in this building anymore. “Go on. Tell me how it gets worse.”

“The animatronics are possessed by the ghosts of the missing children.”

Silence.

“So the kids are dead?” You couldn’t believe that was what you were focusing on.

Michael nodded sombrely. You ran a hand over your face. Either this guy really was crazy, or he was telling the truth. No one in their right mind would joke about dead kids like this.

“And I can’t leave?”

Michael shook his head. “Not unless you want one of the animatronics to get you. We used to have more security guards you know.” From the haunted look in his eyes, you guessed he was telling the truth.

You took a shaky breath. “If I find out this was just an elaborate prank, I’m reporting you to management.”

Michael gave a weak smile. “I wish that was the case.”

You glanced at the clock. Just past 2am. Michael followed your gaze. “We only have to make it until 6. Then everything stops.”

“Only four more hours huh?” A question suddenly occurred to you, “Why do you still work here? You do this every night?”

“Let’s just say I have history with this place.” Michael’s expression was tight, “I can’t quit just yet.” You could tell he wouldn't say any more.

"I guess we just have to make it through the night then."

The evening passed quickly, Michael focusing on keeping the animatronics out and you trying to keep your fear at bay.

The clock now displayed 5am. But it had only showed the hours, not minutes so you had no idea how close it was to 6am and freedom.

You glanced across to Michael. He seemed more frantic than earlier in the night.

"Sorry, I don't think we're getting through tonight."

Your stomach dropped at his words and your eyes flicked over the power bar: only 1% left.

"We might still make it."

But before Michael could reply, the lights turned off with a loud clunk and the whirring of some machine turning off.

You smothered a scream and felt around until you found Michael's shoulder. You wrapped your arms around him and felt him hug you back.

"I'm sorry." His voice was soft and you could hear it shaking.

You tried to calm your breathing, though it was getting increasingly hard. "You did your best."

A loud clanging noise echoed down the corridor outside.

"Just in case we die, I always thought you were cute."

You could hardly believe it. Now you were getting a confession? Just as you were about to die? "Really?"

"Yeah."

"I've had a crush on you since my first day here."

"Guess we were a little late with figuring out our feelings."

The clanging grew louder until it sounded like it was just outside the door. The percent of power ticked lower.

Michael hugged you closer, pressing his face into the top of your head. "I'm sorry."

Suddenly, a bell chimed, playing Westminster Quarters as the sound of children cheering played over the speakers. You jumped at the sudden noise, clinging closer to Michael, your eyes squeezing shut.

So you were surprised to hear him laugh, short and almost hysterical. "We did it. We did it!"

You opened your eyes cautiously and saw, on the camera monitor in large white letters "6 am", pixilated confetti floating down the screen.

"So we're alive?" You could barely believe it.

Michael nodded, smiling at you. "The animatronics stop after six so we're fine."

You began laughing. "Oh my god, I thought we were going to die." A thought suddenly occurred to you, "Did you really confess to me when you thought we were both about to die?"

Michael winced. "I was almost hoping you'd forget." Then he blinked, "But you said you liked me as well?"

You felt your face heat up. "Yeah, I guess I did..."

"Well I guess there's only one thing to do about that. Can I take you out this weekend? I'll be off and I know you're not working."

You smiled, nodding. "That sounds nice."

But you figured you'd better clarify one thing.

"As long as it's not a pizza date."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey, did you enjoy this? If you like my writing, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi page! This will allow me to make some money off my writing, something I enjoy doing.

ko-fi.com/justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms

Important Note: Please only donate if you are financially able to. If you are currently in a position where you can't donate, a like, comment, or reblog will mean just as much.

#writing #fanfic #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #michael afton #michael afton x reader #five nights at freddy's x reader #fnaf x reader #i keep typing fanfic as fnafic so that partially inspired this...

189 notes · View notes

seethesin · 7 months

Text

peace and quiet

pairing: Villanelle x Assassin!F!Reader

tags/warnings: sexual content, car sex, dirty talk, fingering, edging (18+, mdni)

a/n: bet ya didn't see this coming 😏 truthfully, i've had this scenario on my mind for about a month now. i had to write this before i got through the rest of my drafts. im also a bottom!villanelle fan oops enjoy! gif credit.

The last way you wanted to spend your Friday evening was stuck in a Ford Fiesta with the world's most infuriating assassin, Villanelle. But here you both were, cramped and cranky as you wasted hours watching a man go through his nightly routine. Truthfully, you didn't know much about your target except his name, James Fitzgerald. His dossier was light and you suspected that further information wasn't yours to know.

As your handler would say: the less you knew, the better.

Silently, you watched as James moved from room to room in his home; starting in his bedroom, wandering into the kitchen, and finally, settling into the living room. Couldn't the Twelve have a vendetta against someone more interesting?

The blonde next to you must have thought the same thing. Immediately, she turned the radio on, flicking through the stations until she hummed in approval.

"Oh, I love Britney," she muses, beginning to sing along to the chorus of Womanizer as it pumps through the car's surround sound system.

You refrain from groaning.

"Villanelle, I need you to stop." Your voice is strained as your eyes are trained in front of you.

She's completely off-key but sings without a care in the world. Obviously, she's ignoring you and you exhale slowly, squeezing your eyes shut. Villanelle was good at what she did. Great even. But her hyperactive nature and flair for dramatics made you dread any time the two of you had to work together.

It wasn't just her obnoxious nature that made it so difficult for you to work with her. From the outlandish yet stylish outfits she donned to the way she held herself on and off the job, you thought she was stunning. But now, being in such close quarters only seemed to intensify those feelings. Your stomach did somersaults at each pesky thought, unable to get them out of your head quick enough. Entertaining those ideas was a distraction you couldn't afford.

Not in this line of work.

It's just one mission, you find yourself thinking, blinking your eyes open. I just need to get through one mission with her and then—

And then you will work with her again when the Twelve will it. You will still have these terribly ridiculous feelings that you will, once again, have to dissect like you are now. You grit your teeth and instead focus your boring gaze on James Fitzgerald's wrinkled forehead.

Wordlessly, you turn the radio knob towards you, muting the music so you can focus. Villanelle's contralto voice cuts through the silence like a blade and it takes her a few moments to realize what you've done.

"Hey! I was having fun!"

You roll your eyes, tapping your fingertips against the steering wheel.

"I wasn't."

Villanelle scoffs, feigning offense before leaning back. Aggressively, she adjusts her seat, allowing it to fully recline. She lays down, eyes glued to the car ceiling before crossing her arms over her chest petulantly.

You were ready to further accentuate her childishness as she muttered about how you were a 'party pooper,' but paused. James was getting up and walking towards his front door. He was letting someone inside, holy shit! This needed to be documented.

In the dark, you felt for your phone that was supposed to be on the console. Miscalculating, you reached over farther than necessary and instead grabbed—

Villanelle gasped, body arching forward.

Oh.

Your fingers gripped the flesh of her inner thigh, dangerously close to the hem of her shift dress. Blush immediately crawls over your cheeks and you become a stammering mess.

"Oh my god," you ramble, going to remove your hand. "I'm so sorry, Villanelle. I thought that—"

You don't get to finish your sentence. Her hand is over yours and she shoves your palm in between her legs. The wet cotton of her underwear greets your fingers and the heat it emits makes you flatline.

This wasn't real. None of this could be real.

"I know how you look at me."

The statement throws you off kilter and you gape like a fish. Were you that obvious? The idea makes you nauseous; how the hell did Villanelle know your feelings better than you could even comprehend them?

"Stop thinking," she husks and her confidence seems to spread to you like wildfire.

James Fitzgerald and his unannounced guest are long forgotten as you shift in your seat, turning to face Villanelle. Your finger pads inquisitively drag up the length of her clothed slit. Her breathing grows heavier the closer you stroke towards her clit. You can make out her teeth digging into her lower lip and the mischievous glint in her eyes as she stares back at you.

She’s begging you to keep her entertained.

Cautiously, you pull your hand away. The loss of contact squeezes a whimper from her throat, but it dies as she watches you slip two fingers between your lips. You suck slowly, refusing to break eye contact with her before releasing them with a soft pop. You don’t miss the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips.

“Are you going to behave?” Villanelle nods like a bobblehead, practically rutting her body closer to where your hand used to be.

You chuckle. “Good girl.”

Wet fingers glide up her bare leg, meeting at the junction just below her thigh and cunt. Gently, your fingers worm underneath the waistband of her underwear. Painfully slow, you tug them down so that they pool at her knees. They are soaked and the sound of the blonde’s panting is amplified in the enclosed quiet of the car.

"Oh baby," you taunt, watching as she presses her thighs together. You want to swallow her whole.

"Is this all for me?"

"Yes," she sighs out instantaneously, parting her legs as your hand connects back to her cunt.

Your middle finger delicately slides through Villanelle's folds, exploring her velvety flesh. Tracing circles around her labia, you finally brush just underneath her clit. She jerks forward, desperately chasing your touch.

"Villanelle." Her name is a warning on your tongue, tutting gently as you watch her squirm. Your middle finger is fixed in the same position and her fingers curl around your wrist.

"Be nice," she pleads and no matter what your plan was initially, you couldn't deny her further. You nod and gently, your middle finger sinks inside her.

Villanelle tenses momentarily, adjusting to the intrusion before relaxing. She squeezes your wrist, silently goading you to move. You comply, thrusting deeper inside of her.

Your finger moves leisurely at first, more so to savor the first-time feeling of her silky flesh enveloping you. Gradually, you pick up the pace. Her slick drools down the length of your finger and the obscene squelching makes you blush.

Thank god for the dark.

A stream of moans bubbles from Villanelle's throat as her fingernails dig into your wrist. Her other hand moves to her lips, her teeth sinking into the knuckle of her index finger to muffle herself. In response, your finger curls inside of her. She keens, her eyes rolling back as she shoves her hips forward.

"Don't do that," you chide, pumping against the spongy walls of her cunt. "I want everyone to hear how good I'm gonna fuck you."

Her gaze peeks through her lashes, blinking in surprise at the vulgarity of your statement. She's beautifully flushed and the image is seared into your mind. Your ring finger presses inside of her and she gasps, finally removing her hand from her mouth.

"Don't be mean," Villanelle mewls and you can't stop the smile tugging at your lips.

By now, the windows have fogged over in the car. The air between you has risen at least ten degrees higher and you match Villanelle's ragged panting, hyperfocused on every expression she makes. Her hair fans out like a golden halo, illuminating her furrowed brows and parted lips. You want to kiss her, but you instead settle for swiping your thumb across her clit.

Villanelle's chest heaves when you suddenly piston your fingers inside her. She sloppily pushes down to meet your thrusts while her head lolls back against the car seat. By the way her walls fluttered against your sheathed digits, you knew her orgasm was imminent.

James Fitzgerald's departure was also imminent.

Suddenly, the flash of headlights appears in your peripheral vision. A midsized sedan rushes past the front of your rental car. James is driving while his guest in question is in the passenger seat. Your eyes go wide; the memory of exactly why you and Villanelle were here to begin with hits you like a truck.

You withdraw your fingers from Villanelle's pussy and she cries out in both confusion and frustration. Scrambling, she pulls the seat back up so she can properly glower at you.

"What the fuck?" She yells, softening only slightly as she watches you suck your fingers clean before putting the car in drive.

"It's James," you start, pressing the defogger button near the bottom of the dashboard. "I'm gonna tail him."

"I was about to cum!"

You glance at Villanelle quickly as she complains, tossing a cocky smirk in her direction.

"I guess you'll just have to wait then."

#villanelle #villanelle x reader #villanelle x you #villanelle smut #villanelle imagine #oksana astankova #oksana astankova x reader #killing eve #lesbian #wlw #lgbtq #smut #fanfiction #fanfic

234 notes · View notes

gingerparker · 1 year

Text

PULL ON MY THONG

Pairing: College!Peter Parker X Reader

Summary: Peter needs a vacation. So, naturally, he goes to Vegas during his summer break. He's thin on cash and finds a job at a water park! The hot girl behind the bikini bar is a great bonus to his biweekly paycheck.

Warning: Fluff, sexual tension, teasing, slight body worship, drinking (both reader and Peter are 21+)

Word Count: 7158

A/N: let's pretend this wasn't a summer writing challenge... life happened HARD for it to be posted now.. but i hope y'all enjoy anyway ajsjjs DISCLAIMER!! i know the hotel i used here doesn't have a water park but i was too lazy to use a real one sooo it's an invented one!

It's too warm as soon as Peter exits the airport. It's a sticky and dry kind of warmth, no wind of any kind can be felt around him. His small luggage feels like it weighs 5 tons more than it did mere seconds ago and he realizes how stupid it is to have worn dark clothes.

Travellers push past him to find a cab of any kind to get out of the intense heat. Families get into larger Ubers and some are crazy enough to be walking out. Peter is not that determined.

He has to shuffle through the crowd to find a free cab, they are being filled much quicker than he would have thought. Thank god for his faster pace.

Inside the car, he's blasted with cool air, the sweat on his forehead seemingly evaporating.

The drive to his hotel is smooth. He chugs the rest of his water bottle minutes into the ride. Queen's weather didn't prepare him for this.

In only a few minutes he's on the strip. Billboards of all kinds flash around the cab. It's day outside yet he feels blinded by the colourful lights. He sees half-naked men posing with tourists for money as well as showgirls doing the same. He doesn't let his eyes linger too long. The sidewalk is full of people; after all, it's tourist season.

A bright pink flamingo catches his eye, his hotel seemingly calling out to him! Come, Peter! There's some air con in me maybe you could go to my bar or even check out my casin-

"Sir!" he's startled by the harsh voice that calls him, the cab driver.

"Yes?"

"We're here? I've taken you to your hotel" he gestures to the building they are parked next to.

"Oh! How much do I owe you?"

"Y/N, I need you to do the night shift today! Bebe is stuck in St-George, you know how horrible the construction traffic is" Your boss, Xiomara, pleads over the phone. "And I can't come in I have an appointment with my OB"

"What about Charlize?" you ask.

Your phone is on speaker on your bed and you're already looking through the clean bikinis you have ready.

"I haven't been able to reach her, please please please!" she sounds so desperate that you laugh a little.

"Should I wear the blue holo set or go for the pink and red tie-dye one?" Mars squeals loudly, her voice cracks through the speaker on your phone.

"Tie-dye!! You're a lifesaver Y/N/N, I owe you"

"No worries babes, nothing exciting was happening with me tonight" You'll just have to reschedule your date with your vibrator for another day.

"I'll buy you breakfast on your next opening shift! Wait, that's tomorrow, oh god you're gonna be so tired. I can still try and reach Char-"

"Mars! Don't worry so much, keep it going and the baby will just shoot right out of you" you laugh as you pack your bag for the evening.

"I mean I wouldn't complain. I'm very much over pregnancy" she sighs and you only hum as an answer.

You both say your goodbyes and you're quickly doing a makeup look to match your uniform for the night.

Deep red lipstick, a thick black liner that frames your eyes just the way you like and a light amount of everything else. It heats up like crazy in the small bar so you don't want to be sweating it off in seconds. The finishing touch is some body shimmer, that's for the extra tips.

You live in a resort-like rental near the Vegas Strip. Your university funds top students from other states to live in these apartments. When you'd been accepted and offered to house you; you couldn't turn it down. Leaving New York was easy enough, your parents were always travelling for their jobs and your friends were leaving for other schools so it was an easy decision.

A big bonus was that it was only 10 minutes away by foot from your job in a hotel's adult pool.

You gathered all your things and made your way out.

Tuesday nights are the slowest nights. The restricted pool access you work in usually has a long cue to be let in but currently, there are only 5 people. 7 if you count the obviously underage girls that nervously fiddle with their fake IDS.

You've only made 50$ in tips so far which is pretty disheartening. Did you waste your best body shimmer for this?

After cleaning the bar for the third time in the last 10 minutes you give up pretending to be busy. Maybe you should make yourself a drink... A nice cranberry, vodka and watermelon purée slushy... You could even try the new bubblegum gin you received...

As you're trying to figure out what to mix the new alcohol with you spot a guy. A hot guy to be precise. He looks lost as he enters the area and pockets his wallet. His eyes are wide and they seem to be full of awe. First time in Vegas probably. His abs are what make your eyes follow him. For such a soft face the body he has is a pleasant surprise, muscles that don't look too bulky and that highlight the fact that he probably takes very good care of himself.

He looks like a Long Island ice tea type of guy, who likes alcohol but doesn't like tasting it all that much. You almost want to whistle at him or do anything to catch his eye.

He'd be a better date than your vibrator that's for sure.

It's Peter's fifth day in Las Vegas and he just learned about his hotel's private pool. They only let people 21 years old and older in. All he knew was that there was a small water park, and the kids' screaming could be heard throughout the day.

There are more palm trees to cover up this part of the hotel's grounds, giving more privacy to whatever happens here. There's a large DJ booth elevated at the end of the pool and at least 3 different bars. The DJ obviously pressed shuffle on a Spotify playlist and decided to scroll through his phone. The 3 bartenders he sees look bored out of their minds and are seemingly playing a card game. Only about 20 other guests are enjoying the privacy of this section.

He chooses to go buy himself a drink, there's nothing much to do besides that and swim right now.

Right as he's about to go and disturb the guys playing cards he sees a little hut next to the jacuzzi. It's pure white and only has a sign on the front where it's written "Cheeky Chicks" with a bright pink bikini painted on.

His brows furrow before he steps back to look inside.

His eyes widen and his breath hitches. There stands a girl. A half-naked girl. A very very pretty half-naked girl. A girl that's already looking at him. Peter's knees might just give out under him. A smirk forms on your lips when you realised cute hot chiselled guy noticed you. This is going to be so much fun.

"Hi," you say while leaning forward on your bar a little. The guy's face heats up instantly. Red creeps up his chest and onto his face. Peter is incredibly weak for pretty girls.

"Hi," he manages to breathe out.

"Come over here," you say with a wink. No one can tell you that you aren't good at your job.

Peter nods and makes his way over to her. His steps are quicker than he initially wanted, he did want to look cool and nonchalant. Too late now!

"What's your name?" you ask when he reaches your hut.

"Um... I'm not sure" his brain is screaming the answer at him but all he can hear is "her eyes are up there, her eyes are up there, her eyes ar-"

"Mh that's unfortunate, guess I'll have to stick with sexy stranger" your smirk grows when his tongue comes out to lick his lips.

"Right, um, I'm Peter?"

"You sure about that babes?" his eyes get as wide as saucers, nicknames are appreciated... You make a mental note of this.

"Peter Parker," he says "That's my name" he nods to himself. Probably feeling very proud that he's remembered it. God, he's adorable your practically melting.

"Hi Peter Parker, I'm Y/N, it's nice to meet you hot stuff" You lean back to your normal position, he's been working very hard to keep his eyes in respectful eye contact.

"What can I get you, Pete?"

"Huh?"

"You walked up to my bar, don't you want a drink?" you gesture to all the alcohol you have around you.

"Oh! Um what's your favourite?" he looks at the numerous bottles around you.

"Anything turned into a slush" you answer honestly.

"Ok... Something with cherry?" he suggests with a tilt of his head. You nod and get to work.

If you mix your shaker more than usual who could fault you? It keeps his eyes on you as silence settles over. After adding a cherry and coconut slush to the alcohol mix you top it off with maraschino cherries and a bright pink swirly straw.

You hand it over to him, purposefully making contact with his hand. He takes a big sip and your stare falls to his neck. Thick but lean, muscular and so soft looking. He'd look so good with hickeys littered all over it. You could even trail some down, down, down... just under where his swimming trucks start. God, you really need to get off.

"So what do you think, babes?" you ask him as he brings his straw away from his lips. He nods excitedly as a smile spreads on his face. How can you want him to rearrange your insides and bake him a cake all at once?

"It's delicious! I can't even taste the alcohol you put in here" he nods seemingly approvingly and you smile smugly.

"That's how you know it's a dangerous drink" you wink, turning around to quickly put away the things you used to prepare Peter's drink.

"So how much do I owe you?" he takes his wallet out and opens it up with one hand.

Maybe this is your chance to be bold. Get a date out of this incredibly slow day?

"Mh it'll only cost you your phone number" you shrug with a smirk on your face. Peter sputters on the sip he'd taken and flushes from head to toe. He shakes his head quickly and puts down his cup.

"I have to pay you" he goes through the bills he has in his wallet, instantly paling. He counts them again to then meet your eyes anxiously. "Um, any luck this cost under 6$?" he laughs awkwardly taking out the six 1$ bill he had. You cringe and shake your head. Why must you go for the broke cutie? He sighs and shoves the bills into your tip jar.

"I'm sorry, my aunt always tells me to budget better but this trip has got me much shorter on cash than usual..." Peter puts his wallet away, already knowing it's best if leaves as fast as he can.

"How long are you staying in Vegas for?" your question surprises even yourself. You both expect to have him just walk away and forget this interaction happened... but alas you're incredibly weak.

"I don't know really... I bought a one-way ticket so... I'll probably try and get a ticket to leave at the end of summer" which is currently two and a half months away.

"And you already have no cash left??" you gasp. How is that even possible? "Do you have a job? Or a sugar daddy?" you add in a rushed tone, shocked at his quite reckless planning.

"Think I'd look good in a bikini?" he teases. Joking at a time like this? He might just be your soulmate.

"You'd look amazing in a bikini but this is a woman owed and woman run" You sigh dreamily at the thought of Peter in a bikini. New kink unlocked? Or are you just incredibly horny... "Although... one of the lifeguards at the water park quit! Maybe I could get a good word in for you" You start shutting off the lights in your little hut and locking up the coolers and stands around you.

"Now?" Peter exclaims. You ignore his shock and turn back to him. You spot his unfinished slushy and hand it back to him.

"Drink it at least, I'm not doing charity for you not to enjoy it" you tease him before making your way out, locking the side door and hanging up the "Closed" sign.

"Oh and I'm still expecting your phone number"

That's how Peter Parker got himself a job at his hotel's water park. The man running it barely asked him what his name was before he was hired. They made sure that he had the right certification for a lifeguard job and the next day he was on the schedule. Well, they wrote him in with a Sharpie and they spelt his name wrong but he had a job!

The kids were... tolerable, the pay was ok and the conditions were bearable. His favourite part, however, is the hottie that always put extra cherries on his alcoholic slushes.

It's been three weeks now since he was able to pay back the first one, and it's also been three weeks since you've exchanged numbers.

You've been texting back and forth like crazy. Just facts about your days when you aren't working at the same time or you even like to have him pick out your bikini. He gets exceptionally shy and takes forever to answer but, surprisingly, he's got impeccable taste. Peter knows it's because of how attracted to you he is. Getting to know you has only deepened how doomed he is, how quickly his feelings have shifted from plain lust.

"So you haven't fucked yet?" Ned's voice is loud out of his phone speaker and it scares the shit out of Peter. He's on his lunch break and it's his weekly bro date with Ned. They have lately been full of your name.

"No, women and men can be friends. You know this" Peter knows full well that he'd ditch the friendship in a heartbeat for something more. He'll keep this act up tho, more gentlemanly... right?

"Not when they obviously wanna bone Pete... You're telling me not even a steamy make-out session?" Peter is glad they decided not to FaceTime because he knows what face Ned would be making right now and he doesn't want to see it.

"No" He wishes. He wishes so badly. Like it's actually starting to concern him how much he just wants you to sit on his lap, put your hands in his hair, maybe pull a little, definitely call him babes like you alw- See? He's going insane.

"That's sad Petey, get a move on! If Y/N is as hot as you say then you can't waste any time!" Ned's voice is so diplomatic it's weird but comforting.

"Oh. My. God. Babes you talk about me?" your chipper voice almost startles Peter off his seat and onto the suspiciously green floors.

Peter looks at you with a terrified expression on his face, like you've caught him mid-murder. Damn, his Peter Tingle for not warning him of your arrival!

"Is that her? Y/N! PETER WANTS TO FU-"

His phone is thrown across the room at record-breaking speed, destroying it. You barely seem surprised.

The silence that takes over the room gives Peter time to look you over. What you're wearing today has to be lingerie... just enough is left to the imagination and it's hypnotising. The way the slightest movement makes you look, the up and down of your chest as you breathe, how you look walking closer to him. Wait, walking closer??

His eyes snap up to meet yours as you walk over to him.

"Take me out tonight" You lean down to his eye level. The eye contact you hold is intense. So much is communicated through facial expressions. Peter's mind repeats your statement over and over, making sure he actually heard the right thing.

"Where?"

"Anywhere near an Apple Store so we can get you a new phone" you wink.

Smoking hot date, check.

Carefully picked out outfit, check.

Cute but comfortable makeup, check.

Get Peter a new phone before the date actually starts, check.

You and Peter are now slowly making your way down the Vegas Strip. With the ending goal in mind to find someplace interesting to eat. You walked past many many different restaurants but nothing that made you stop walking.

Peter's hand holds yours loosely, the hot weather unsuitable for real hand-holding. He's wearing a light pink shirt with flamingos and flowers patterned around it, obviously, he hadn't packed a "date shirt" before leaving New York and bought it at his hotel. His legs are barely hidden away by his short jeans short that have numerous rips in them... God you want to bite his thighs.

"You're staring at my legs again" You can hear him smirking through the tone of his voice.

"Oh shut up!" you knock your shoulder onto his arm with a laugh.

"It's fine this most likely compensates for the number of times I've at your boobs... or your ass... or anything really when you have a bikini on" he gestures with his free hand to you. Most likely visualising a bikini on you now.

"Mh, that's true... I'll keep staring then!" you smile proudly winking at him. His face and neck flush pink as he ducks his head. He's so fun to tease always so responsive.

Conversation is easy. It always is. Your personalities mesh together perfectly which makes hanging out with him so fun.

This being more officially a date has put weight on both of your shoulders. Somehow, it's made a sliver of anxiety surround the both of you. It must mean you both want this date to go well; to have many more after.

"Oh! How about hot dogs?" Peter points to a small restaurant to his left.

"Those are probably, like funky hot dogs... I'm down, let's go!" you tug him towards Haute Doggery.

You're both greeted by a woman behind the counter when you walk in. The place is small, with four two-person tables and a high counter along one of the only bare walls. That said it's cosy and inviting so you're immediately excited.

"Wow! A foot-long hog dog??" Peter gasps as he reads the menu. You giggle at his reaction now reading the menu yourself. So many options to choose from... "Want to share two regular-sized speciality ones?"

"Only if we get fries" you nod seriously, now choosing a hot dog to share with him.

"I definitely want to try the mac and cheese one" Peter looks away from the menu to meet your eyes.

"Good choice! I saw we get that one and the breakfast one, I can never say no to hash browns"

Once you receive your order you make your way to one of the tables, ready to absolutely dig in. Peter takes the time to precisely cut in half both hot dogs and gives you your pieces.

"Cheers!" you say knocking your half with his before taking a generous bite of the breakfast delight.

"So this is my room!" Peter shuffles inside his hotel room before holding the door open for you.

The room is nothing crazy. One queen bed in. the middle, a dresser with a tv on top of it, grey carpet flooring, pinkish walls, a bathroom and a balcony overlooking the pools and the waterpark.

You make your way over to his freshly made bed: thank you housekeeping. You sit down on it beckoning Peter over to you. He toes off his shoes in a hurry before practically lunging at the spot next to you. Cute.

"Had fun, cutie?" you look at him with seductive eyes and a warm smile. You want him to be putty in your hands.

Peter reacts immediately to the name you call him, blushing and wide-eyed.

"Yeah, you're easy to talk to and really sex- I mean smart. Really smart." his words seem to be tumbling out of his mouth in a panic.

"Babes, calm down!! You can compliment me. Physically too" you smack his chest feeling the firm muscle of his peck.

He only nods as an answer but keeps his eyes locked with yours. You're the one to break the eye contact to glance at his lips. You want to kiss him so bad...

"Can I kiss you?" Peter might be a mind reader.

"Please" is what you answer.

Kissing Peter is immediately addicting. He's so enthusiastic, kisses like his life depends on it. His left hand goes to your back and his right cradles your jaw. Your own move around his body. Gripping his muscles, tangling in his hair, slipping under his shirt. You're having a great time exploring his body.

You bite his bottom lip playfully, tugging it towards you and it makes Peter moan in delight.

"You're so hot, I'm going insane" he mumbles between desperate kisses.

You only hum in answer wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down above you. His body is so warm against yours like he's on fire. You tug off his shirt, to help him cool down is what you tell yourself.

"I know I see you without a shirt more than with one but this is so much sexier" you trail your fingers all. over. him.

Peter turns you onto your side to unzip your romper. His lips never leave yours, the contact staying feverish and fast. It's like he wants to eat you whole. Maybe he does, you'd let him.

The shrill sound of your ringtone startles you, causing you to knock your chin into Peter's nose as you look up.

He groans as you reach to silence the (incredibly rude) device. Unfortunately, your index has other plans and presses the accept call button.

"Y/N?" Xiomara... This can only mean bad news.

"I know you're on a date and I'm so incredibly sorry to be doing this. I just went into labour and you're literally in the hotel somewhere..." Her voice is strained and you breathe out in exasperation.

Peter's head drops into the crook of your neck. His hands don't start roaming, they travel, map your body out. Every single inch of skin he can reach. Inside the romper, your face, legs, arms... Anything and everything.

"I... I don't have a bikini" you manage to say.

"I really don't care what you wear. Actually, you know what I don't care about the bar right now never mind" She hangs up immediately.

"Thank fuck for that" Peter exclaims dragging the rest of your romper off.

You laugh as he readily gets back to what he was doing. His lips on yours, guided your hands into his hair and hips bucking into yours.

Yeah, this is so much better than taking over "Cheeky Chicks" for the evening.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #tom holland spiderman #mcu spiderman #spiderman #peter x reader #tom holland x reader

370 notes · View notes

cowgurrrl · 2 months

Text

The Palace in Flames

Pairing: Javier Peña x CIA!reader

Author's note: okay two things 1) fuck it we ball on this timeline 2) i don't love how this turned out but I need to finish it otherwise I'm gonna stare at it for god knows how long so enjoy anyways

Summary: "I'm not a violet dog. I don't know why I bite." [3.8k]

Warnings: canonical violence and language, alcohol, a little bit of backstory, discussion of PTSD like symptoms, a touch of misogyny, canon events but slightly canon divergent timing i think

There's not a lot you can do at the scene of the car bombing. You and Javi talk to local police and take witness statements from frightened neighbors and anybody else willing to come forward with information while Steve takes pictures. From what you can tell, it looks like it was a crude C4 bomb, one of the easiest to make and detonate. All it takes is the right amount of pressure, and boom. A few unfortunate souls died right beside Jorge as they walked past, unaware of the explosion to come. A hit for one quickly turned into a hit for five.

You're good enough at your job to recognize the fact that Steve and Javi went poking around for information about the person who ratted on you, and then a few hours later, he's dead, not even ten minutes outside of your neighborhood. Medellín is a big place. It could've been a coincidence, but you're almost certain it's not. You really hope you don't have to make good on your promise to return to the US if they go after you again.

You, Javi, and a handful of other police officers finish with the witnesses and join Steve by the truck. All files and statements will need to go through the proper channels tomorrow, and it's too late to do anything else. You'll start fresh in the morning: follow through on the plan to send out CENTRA SPIKE to see what they can find, monitor movement, and stay vigilant. But tonight, you deserve to get a drink with your two self-appointed bodyguards.

The great thing about working at the Embassy is that everyone touts interagency cooperation and work, but in reality, you rarely want to see each other in the same place. DEA will hang out at one specific bar while CIA will go to another. You don't even want to know where soldiers and higher-ups go once the clock hits six o'clock. Every agency thinks another agency is fucking them over or doing their job wrong. Everybody wants a medal for being in Medellín and fighting the narcos and communists but rarely wants to work together. You like to think your agencies have the upper hand with the three of you being friendly and sharing information without going through official, classified paperwork. It's not the most recommended or legal way to go about it. But, you've been able to pass on valuable information Javi let slip in between rounds and shared cigarettes under the guise of a Confidential Informant.

You were friends with Javi first. He came to Colombia around the same time you did, and you worked the same hours. You did him favors, and he returned them. You learned not to ask each other too many questions and to take what you're given and hope it leads somewhere. You've gotten little victories here and there: guerillas extradited, kidnapping victims recovered safely, witnesses given protection and visas in other countries. It was nice to have someone you could rely on and bounce theories off of when the office was empty, and you two were puffing your way through a pack of cigarettes. The lines got blurry about six months in. It happened fast and without warning, and you swore it was a one-time thing. And then it happened again. And again. And again. Then, it just made sense to keep doing what you were doing instead of going through the cycle of fighting about it and giving each other the cold shoulder, only to end up fucking in his apartment before the end of the day.

Steve, however, got stuck with you. When he became Javi's partner, he was forced to know your name and seek you out in the office when he needed something. At first, he wasn't super keen about the idea of having to rely on CIA for things— something to do with that DEA machismo of not needing anything from anyone— and then he realized how good you are at your job. Once you helped them get an especially important collar, he opened up. He told you about the killing of his last partner and a little bit about his career up until this point. He practically begged you to talk to Connie when she started getting homesick and having doubts, and you came to care for her. Now, you're an inseparable trio (quartet if you count the nights Connie makes her way from the communa clinic and into the bar).

You think Noonan knew that when she asked Steve and Javi to join the Colombian police on your recon. Something about friendly faces in an unfriendly territory. She was right. You stuck to Javi the entire ambulance ride to the hospital, and they each took turns at your bedside. Even Connie showed up to take care of you during those long few nights in the hospital. You were less willing to accept help once you were discharged, but Steve would knock on your apartment door every night and leave a covered dish on your doormat while Javi bought you groceries. You owe them a lot, though they'll never let you admit it.

Javi buys the first round to celebrate your reinstatement. He gives a brief, flattering toast to your work, and you roll your eyes but clink your glasses together anyway. You avoid talking about theories and leads in the bar, even though you probably could talk about those things in English and get away with it. Everybody already knows you work for the American Embassy. No reason to give anybody anything to report back. Instead, you talk about stupid things like Steve being unable to speak Spanish.

"I can understand a little," he tries to defend himself, and you and Javi share a knowing look. He definitely doesn't understand enough to quantify it as a little. He might pick up every tenth word and know enough commands to dole them out when he's in the field, but that southern accent anglicizes every single syllable he utters. "Alright, y'all can go fuck yourselves." He says at your silence, making you laugh.

"Don't worry about it, Murphy. Couple more years and you'll be running circles around Javi."

"I don't know about all that, but she's right. You'll get better," Javi takes a sip of his drink. "Eventually."

Over two more rounds, you talk about things back home, tell stupid stories, and whatever else you could think of. It's nice to see Steve and Javi acting like they kinda like each other outside of work. Lord knows they're at each other's throats most of the time. You enjoy hanging out with them, and even though you know you can handle yourself, you like feeling protected by them. Years of CIA training and undercover work don't mean shit when all people see is a woman alone at night.

"Alright, I've gotta get home," Steve says as he drinks the rest of his whiskey and puts his cigarette out. He probably should've been home hours ago, but that's none of your business.

"Tell Connie I said hi." You say, and he smiles, nodding and mumbling a quiet "yes, ma'am." He loves her so much, even just the mention of her makes him light up. Your thought from earlier creeps up. A good man. And yet he's here, doing the same shit you and Javi are. It's a little funny how squeamish he still is about things, but you figure that's the last sign of his humanity. God, please let that linger for as long as possible. Javi takes a drag from his cigarette and blows the smoke away from your face.

"Yeah, give her a kiss for me." He says. Before Steve can even open his mouth, you smack the back of Javi's head and groan.

"Ay, Javier," you scold. "Malo, malo, malo." Javi smiles, a rare sight reserved for moments like this, as Steve bids you goodnight again and leaves the bar. The second he's out of sight, you reach over, snatch the cigarette from Javi's hands, and bring it to your lips.

"Get your own," he grumbles, but there's no heat behind it. You roll your eyes and exhale.

"Stealing from you is so much cheaper, though," you shrug as you hand it back to him. "You think he got suspicious when we showed up at the same time?"

"We live down the road from each other and got the call around the same time. Even if he figured it out, he wouldn't say anything. Plus, I think your little attitude at work throws him off." He says, and you raise your eyebrows at him.

"My little attitude?" You ask. You know he said it just to piss you off, and you hate that it's working. He smirks and you shove his shoulder, stealing the cigarette back from him. "Pinche cabrón." You mumble, and he laughs. He gets a new cigarette from his pack and lights up. A comfortable silence falls over you as you sit there, his hand finding a home on your thigh under the table.

"So, how're you doing?" Javi asks, seemingly out of nowhere. You shrug and ash your cigarette into the half-full tray in front of you.

"'M fine." You say, and he hums. He takes a long drag of his cigarette and glances around like he's looking for something you can't see. He blows smoke away from you and leans in.

"So, waking up screaming is fine for you?" He asks. You didn't want to talk about it when you woke up, and you especially don't want to talk about it now. You poke your tongue into your cheek in annoyance.

"If you thought I wasn't okay, why'd you push for Noonan to clear me?"

"I didn't say I didn't think you're okay."

"Then, drop it."

"Look, I know you wanna go all in again, but maybe you should take it slow—at least for a little while," he says, and you scoff.

"Give me a fuckin' break, Javi. Did you take it slow when you got shot?" You ask.

"Getting shot and getting kidnapped are two completely different things."

"And yet we both survived," you say, gesturing between you as proof of your survival. "The doctors wouldn't have cleared me to come back if they didn't think I was ready."

"Yeah? How much you pay 'em off for that signature?" He asks. You sigh and bite the inside of your cheek. You're not going to dignify him with a response but you so easily could. "C'mon, just... let your feet get wet again. Everyone knows you've already got the lay of the land, but they don't know that you won't freak the fuck out once you're fully back in the field. I think some of them are waitin' for it," he says. It would explain why everyone's treating you like you're a time bomb. "If you won't do it for yourself, at least do it because I'm asking you."

"And are you asking me as a coworker or a friend?" You ask. He's staring at you in his weird Javi way: hardened brown eyes softening just enough to bring your guard down. It's not something he learned from years at the Academy or in the field. That's all him.

"Would it make a difference?" He asks quietly. Answering a question with a question. What a cop.

"Not really." You say, and he sighs. He scrubs a hand down his face and picks up his drink, a cigarette lingering between his fingers.

"I'm asking as someone who saw what they did to you." He says before taking a big gulp of whiskey. You haven't talked about it. Not about what he saw and knew before finding you or what exactly happened in that room over those few days. You spent hours upon hours repeating the story for doctors, depositions, agency paperwork, and even to the court-appointed psychiatrist who had to screen you before they could even let you back in the building. So, you weren't necessarily gunning for the opportunity to repeat it again when Javi asked you about it. There are only so many sympathetic looks and half-hearted reassurances one person can take.

Even though you relied on him to tether you back to earth during those first few days, he took the brunt of your emotions. You refused to answer his questions and pushed him away. "I'm just trying to help," he told you when he tried to take care of you. "Where was your fucking help when they grabbed me from the street, huh?" You snapped, exhausted and sore and a little out of your mind. It was mean and unfair. You know how hard everyone worked to find you. You know how he blames himself. You know how scared they were to find your body.

When he puts his empty glass down, you look at him and nod. You can't take back what you said, but you can soften it a little. You put your hand over his and trace the contours of his knuckles. They're a little bruised and cracked, but still a part of him. You take a deep breath and rub your thumb against his skin.

"Okay," you concede quietly. "I'll slow down for a little while, but the second we have good intel, I'm all in again." He lets out a relieved sigh and squeezes your thigh.

"Thank you." He mumbles. To anyone walking by, you two would look like a couple having a drink after a long day of work before going to your shared home and sleeping it off. You indulge in the thought for a second longer than you meant to before you retract your hand and reach for your drink.

"You're gettin' soft on me, Peña." You accuse, and he chuckles.

"God forbid I wanna see you make it outta here alive." He says, and you hum as you finish the rest of your drink. His eyes stick to the corner of your lips where a few drops of tequila spilled, his thumb twitching as he stops himself from wiping them away. "What're you doing for the rest of the night?" He asks. It's an opening. An invitation to finish what he started earlier. What happened with Alemán earlier in the day must've wound him up, made him tense and in need of release. Unfortunately for him, there are few things you like more than making him sweat.

"Well, I've got a dinner I need to pack away in the fridge and dishes to clean."

"I can help."

"I don't think you can," you say as you stand and grab your jacket from the back of your chair. "Besides, I'm supposed to be taking it easy. I should probably get some rest before my first actual day back, right?" He rolls his eyes as you throw a couple of bills down on the table for your share of the drinks, and you smirk. "I'll let you walk me home, though."

"You'll let me?" He asks, but he's already standing and pulling his own jacket over his shoulder. Like clockwork, you think.

"Figured it's the least I could do." You say, and he scoffs, swatting at your ass when he passes behind you.

"Vámonos princesa."

You get a warm welcome back to the office by immediately getting thrown into the chaos of the CIA. A corkboard with all known names of M-19 and other communist group members looks like a serial killer's wet dream with all the notes and grainy photos that stare you down as you talk about recent developments in the jungle. Honestly, you don't care what a group of kids are doing or planning to do, but everyone else in the CIA seems to think it's the most pressing matter.

Despite what the Agency and Reagan want you to believe, you know communists are not the most dangerous group in Colombia right now. Narcos are practically running the country and ruining countless lives with their rampant murder and exploitation. So even though Lou wants to sink a billion dollars of American taxpayer money into fighting guerillas in the jungle, you have one eye on the situation with the narcos. You're just waiting for the message to come down through the ranks that it's all hands on deck for taking down Escobar. Lou knows about your indifference and exacerbates it every chance he gets.

"Agent, I want you to work with Mil Group on tracking their movement to see if there are any patterns. I want to know where they're going and what they're planning." He says, pointing to you. You give him a look and cross your arms over your chest. You hate working with Mil Group. It's a group of guys with sticks up their asses and, somehow, never see the outside of an office. You catch Javi and Steve walking by through the windows, obviously going somewhere, and you lose whatever patience you have.

"All due respect, Colonel, but Ambassador Noonan took me off of desk duty effective immediately. I think I could be of more help in another area concerning M-19." You say, and he raises his eyebrows at you. You're also not fucking boss, you think.

"I'm sure we can find the time for you to show us how big and bad you are another time, sweetheart, but right now, this is where you're ordered to go." The nickname is abrasive in your ears, and you want to correct him, demanding your title as Agent, but Javi's words ring in your ears. They're waiting for you to freak out so they can send you home. They're waiting for you to blow up on somebody for a small thing. They want you to fail. You sigh and bite your tongue.

"Yes, sir." You say before making your way to the Jarheads.

For being off of desk duty, you still feel like you're doing mind-numbing work. All you're doing is plotting points on a map where satellite phones have pinged off of cell towers in an attempt to triangulate where they might be hiding out. Considering how there are barely any cell towers that reach that deep into the jungle, and even if they did, the calls drop after about thirty seconds, you don't have a ton of riveting information to work with. You listen to the recorded, half-legible calls and translate what you can to another agent, but nothing suggests they're planning anything. If they are, they're keeping it off your radar.

After wasting a stupid amount of time doing that, Lou draws up a bigger map and makes you replot all the points down with an estimate of where they might be. You're not CENTRA SPIKE or well-versed in how triangulation even works, and he knows this. It's a fool's errand at best, but he demands it by the end of the day. "So I can give it to the tech analysis guys." He says. You're about one more pointless task away from bashing your head into a wall, but you start on the map anyway.

You're about halfway through when you hear Murphy calling your name, and you turn to see him and Javi walking through the crowded Mil Group office.

"You're working with the Army now?" He asks, and you sigh.

"For the day. Lou is on everyone's ass about this M-19 shit and thinks I'm the best person for the job, apparently," you say. "Please tell me you have something better than this."

"We just got a sicario's son off the street. Dumbass was distributing in broad daylight in front of a cop." Javi says, and you furrow your eyebrows.

"We both know that's not a good enough reason for a cop to pick up a sicario's kid. What're you holding out on me?"

"Apparently, the cop heard him bragging about rigging a car with a bomb. He said something along the lines of, 'That's what happens to rats,' and then said something about going after La Golondrina next." Steve supplies. So this sicario's kid rigged the bomb to kill the informant who sniffed you out, said he also had a bomb for you, and now he's sitting somewhere in DEA custody? If Escobar's men weren't going after you before, they definitely are now.

"Do you think he even knows anything? He might just be daddy's errand boy."

"He asked for a deal," Steve says.

"Wheeling and dealing might not be grounds for extradition, but threatening to blow up a United States CIA agent just might be," Javi says. Something shifts in his eyes just enough for you to catch it, and you know it has to do with the conversation you had at the bar. You shake your head and break eye contact with him to look at Steve.

"Right, but you know how Wysession and Jones are. If it doesn't involve communist groups, they don't even want to look at it."

"The kid told us that some of Escobar's men have been talking with one of the leaders of M-19." Bingo. You throw down your marker, stand from the desk Wysession relegated you to, and all but march into his office with Steve and Javi close behind you.

"How's that plotting coming along, honey?" Lou asks as he looks up from his paperwork, his face falling at the sight of the two men behind you. Lou might not like you, but he dislikes Javi and Steve more.

"Agents Peña and Murphy have intel that Pablo is communicating with M-19 guerillas," you say. "That means there could be a joint attack coming, which means we can't keep separating the communist and narcos task forces."

"Has this information gone through Noonan?" He asks.

"No, sir. We wanted to relay the information to our Agent here first since the intel involves her kidnapping." Steve speaks up, using your actual title, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smirking.

"Is your intel good?" Lou asks Steve, ignoring you and Javi, and Steve gives him a look.

"You think we'd be wastin' your time if it wasn't?"

"Well, then, you better get a move on and go tell her." He says like he doesn't actually like the idea, but he can't think of anything else to say. You, Javi, and Steve quickly leave his office and start the trek to Noonan's office when Steve gets a call on his sat phone. He looks like he's about to ignore it before remembering it could be Connie, and even though she's supposed to be at work, he doesn't take any chances and answers it. You're close enough to him to hear her frantic chattering on the phone and saying something about M-19 and Escobar. The walk to Noonan's office turns into a run, but it doesn't matter. By the time you get there, thousands upon thousands of pages of evidence against Pablo Escobar are burning on the TV as M-19 takes over the Palace of Justice.

This isn't just a singular agency fight anymore. You doubt it ever was. You know that the Palace of Justice Siege will change everything for better or worse, and you have to be ready for it. Promises made over glasses of scotch be damned.

TAGLIST:@abbyhaslongshorts@kiwiharrykiwi@sumsworldz@myloveistoolittle@anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller @anoverwhelmingdin @casssiopeia @space-zaddy-din-djarin @rainy-darling (let me know if you don't wanna be tagged for this series!)

78 notes · View notes

corruptedcaps · 9 months

Text

Eco Warrior

I can't believe the nerve of those corporate jerks! All we were doing was peacefully protesting their evil company and they threw this gross sticky chemical stuff all over me! I should wash it off but I need the evidence for when I go to the cops tomorrow. It's infuriating how they think they can just silence us like that. But you know what? This won't stop me. I'll fight even harder now. We're in this together, and we're going to make sure they're held accountable for the damage they've done to people and the environment.

Change of plans with going to the cops, I woke up to find the chemicals had soaked into my skin. They haven’t left any evidence in me. I guess I should be thankfully. Although I think they may have contributed to this tan I have now. But that's not the point right now. I need to focus on getting to the new protest today. We can't let their tactics deter us. We have to keep standing up against their injustices and fighting for what's right. Let's get out there and make our voices heard again.

You won't believe how well the protest went today. Our voices were louder than ever, and it felt like a turning point. But here's the craziest part – those corporate guys actually came over to apologize for splashing me with chemicals! Can you believe that? They said it was a mistake and that they want to make amends. They even offered me a role as a protest liaison within their company. It's wild, right? I'm torn though. Part of me wants to take the chance to make change from the inside, but another part worries it might just be a ploy. What do you think babe?

So, I just got back from my first day as a protest liaison, and I'm kind of surprised. The corporation is actually really nice, and they went out of their way to make me feel welcome. They even gave me a bunch of free makeup, creams, and lotions to try, as a way to show their products aren't harmful. I've already put some on, and I have to admit, they feel pretty good. They make my body tingle all over, especially my boobs. Bigger? No I don’t so. It's probably just the outfit I'm wearing today. I think you just like what you see, mmmm come closer baby.

It's frustrating to deal with some of my protestor friends calling me a scab and a corporate shill just because I'm working with the corporation now. I have no sympathy for their attitude. If they can't see that I'm trying to make a positive change from within, then that's their problem. Honestly, it feels like jealousy more than anything. I mean, the corporation even gave me a raise already and has let me use all their products for free. That must mean I'm doing something they value. Plus I’m sure it doesn’t help that I look so much better then them now as well. The company’s products really are like magic. Mmmm all this talk of how good I look I’d getting me in the mood, take off your pants.

Like my new car? My company bought it for me for doing such a good job. Protest liaison? No they’ve moved me into marketing and sales where I’m excelling. It helps that I’m a walking billboard for them. As for the protest, honestly, I don't really care about it anymore. Things change, priorities shift. This is where I am now, and I've got better things to focus on than those who still think shouting on the streets will make a difference. It's all about playing the game right, and clearly, I'm winning. So, if you'll excuse me, I've got more important matters to attend to than the past.

Ugh, those protestors are getting on my nerves. Yesterday, they nearly ruined my new fur coat as I was walking into work. Can you believe their audacity? Pathetic losers, the lot of them. I need to find some muscle to deal with them, get them out of my way once and for all. It's like they're stuck in a never-ending cycle of futile resistance. Well, I won't let them stand in my way or mess with what I've built. I am vice president now after all, I deserve respect. Time to take control and show them the real power of influence.

Oh, look at you now. Splashing you with those chemicals did wonders, didn't it? Just like they did to me. Of course at first I had no idea the chemicals were changing me into the mega bitch you see before you but once I realized what my companies products were doing to me, I couldn’t get enough. It’s so hawt to see the concentrated formula change you so quickly. You've become quite the imposing figure, muscular and mean. It's good to see loyalty in action. From now on, you're my enforcer. Those protestors won't stand a chance with you by my side. Let's make sure they understand that challenging me comes at a price. Together, we'll show them what happens when they fuck with me.

You know what? It turns out, it was a much better plan to turn those protestors into my new executive board. All it took was a little splash of those chemicals, and their loyalty was sealed. With them backing me, it was easy to ascended to the position of CEO. Funny how things work out, isn't it? They thought they were fighting against me, but now they're working for me. It's a powerful reminder that sometimes, the best way to bring about change is from the inside. And now, I've got the influence and control I've always wanted. Make less products? No dear we’re doubling our output now, I want an army.

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #evil couple #corrupted pov #corrupted couple

320 notes · View notes

bbobpul · 9 months

Text

break my heart again 2 — njm

PAIRING. na jaemin x reader SUMMARY.how's jaemin gonna give back for all of y/n's efforts now that he finally can? it's been years—just how much has everything changed? GENRE. angst, fluff, she fell first 🤭 W/C. 3.5k NOTE. hello, part two is here! so sorry i couldn't make a taglist. i didn't have time to make one. nevertheless, i hope this fic make its way back to you. love u all and thankies sm !!!! also, my requests are open !!!

(⁠☉⁠｡⁠☉⁠)⁠!⁠→ my other works !!!!!! part one here!!

i find it hard to picture myself ever being as dedicated to something or someone again, just like how i dedicated my entire college life to na jaemin.

lately, i've been feeling like i forgot what it's like to actually have a dream. back then, na jaemin was my dream, he was my driving force. i would force myself to wake up so early in the morning just so i could see him (or his car) enter the gates of the university. i would go to school even though i am sick and feel a lot better when i get home because i saw na jaemin. but now two years after graduating, i still haven't found a decent job that i actually enjoy.

it's a common experience that many people go through, and i suppose i shouldn't complain about it. maybe i need to put in more effort and push myself harder. part of me wonders if having na jaemin back in my life would rekindle that same sense of dedication that i once had. but as i say these thoughts out loud, they sound absurd, even to myself. why would i wish for my first love to return just so i could find a decent job? why would i long for na jaemin to come back merely to feel that spark in my life again? it's puzzling why i'm even dwelling on thoughts of him and wondering if he holds the key to my happiness and success.

oh, to dream.

oh, for that old dedication to still burn within you.

if only you hadn't acted so dumb that day. could life have taken a different path? are you even happy now? if you hadn't let fear hold you back back then, if you'd actually been brave enough to listen and follow through, would you be happier today?

but no matter how much you keep bothering yourself with that memory, if people come up to you and ask if you feel bad about everything that happened that day, you'd say no. you don't feel bad at all.

deciding to let him go was one of the best things you did. he seemed happy when you left, and after that, you never heard anything about him. he's like a touchy subject in your group of friends, which can be tough sometimes since you share friends. but does it really matter now? him not being in your life probably means he's happier and more peaceful, right?

are you feeling peaceful? is being stuck in a 9-5 job that hardly brought you joy a happy situation? scratch that. did being in that job make you happy? clearly not, as you've just mustered the bravery to quit. and in doing so, you've never felt more joyful.

did you really make the right decision?

just as you were pondering your own question, your phone buzzed on the bedside table. you grabbed it and saw that the caller was renjun, your incredibly patient best friend.

"y/n," he said, his tone becoming unusually serious. "what's up?" you asked. "do you need money?" "yeah?" "here's the deal: our college is putting together a documentary film, and they've chosen your department. but guess what? your old classmates are bombarding me with messages because it looks like you're ignoring them all. frankly, i can't believe you even answered my call," he griped. "wait, hold on. what film? and why would they pick me? are they searching for someone with a post-college life so sad that it belongs in a documentary?" "well, you were practically a legend back in college, so… and apparently, the director specifically wants you, which leads to… well, another issue…" "what's the problem now?" "it's going to be directed by jaemin."

and just like that, you ended the call. but a few seconds later, renjun's call came in again.

"i'm not going to do it." "you stubborn brat." "why him?" "i have no idea!" "why is he even directing? wasn't he studying architecture or something?" "i don't know, y/n. i haven't heard a single thing about him since your graduation." "what do you mean?" "that's not important now, y/n. you're in need of money, right? seize the opportunity. do it for the cash." “so will you do it or will you do it?” “for the cash.”

...

"y/n, you've moved on, haven't you? what's done is done. i'm pretty sure jaemin has forgotten all about it. this chance is coming your way, so just accept it." "i guess i will."

you're drawn in by the idea of making some extra money and the possibility of catching the eye of potential agents or employers. right now, you're at a crossroads, thinking about how this documentary could be a stepping stone to more job opportunities down the line. this situation is different from what usually drives you – this time, it's not about others, it's about focusing on your own goals and aspirations.

you're deliberately avoiding dwelling on your past. just as renjun mentioned, you've moved beyond it. what's done is done. right now, your focus is firmly on the present and the potential that lies ahead in the future.

what's in the past is behind us, including whatever existed between jaemin and you.

from renjun

tomorrow at lunchtime, they'll be going over the schedules and discussing what to film. if you want, you can chat with the director now. his number is 0825 813 2000.

in response, you simply replied with a "okay."

the night before the lunch meeting, a jumble of emotions has you in its grip. the idea of reconnecting with jaemin, who used to be your best friend and is now someone distant, fills you with a sense of awkwardness. you tell yourself that this is about working together and the chance to grow professionally.

after taking a deep breath, you decide to shoot jaemin a text. your fingers hesitate as you type, and the uncertainty you're feeling seems to seep into your message. you finally press send, and your text reads, "hey, it's y/n. heard we're meeting tomorrow for the documentary. just wanted to check in before that."

in almost no time, your phone buzzes with a response: "hey y/n, good to hear from you. yeah, looking forward to our meeting. let's catch up and chat about the project."

the conversation is polite, but beneath the surface, there's an unspoken layer of complexity. you can feel the hesitation in your exchange, a silent recognition of the shared history that's now a distant memory. as you talk about the meeting and the documentary, the easy flow you once had is noticeably absent.

as the texts go back and forth, a sense of tension seems to hang in the air. it's as though the years of friendship you once had are casting a shadow over your conversation. the effortless connection you once shared now requires effort, and both of you can sense the change.

as the conversation wraps up with a simple "see you tomorrow," you're left with a mix of excitement and anxiety. the idea of seeing jaemin again, especially in a professional context, stirs up a range of emotions. this situation is a stark reminder of just how much things have changed – and maybe how some things can't go back to the way they were.

you believed the conversation had concluded, only for your phone to ring once more, bearing yet another message from him. as you read the words on the screen, "i missed you, y/n," a rush of emotions floods over you.

"what's going on with him?" you mutter to yourself, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion. your gaze remains fixed on the message for a moment, your attention drawn to the three blinking dots in the corner – a sign that he's in the process of typing a response. several more seconds tick by, the dots eventually vanishing, and in response, you shut your phone off. you make an attempt to settle into bed and get some rest, but truth be told, it's hard to claim you managed to sleep soundly that night. an undercurrent of thoughts and emotions keeps your mind restless.

the day of lunch lunch finally arrived. you sat across from jaemin, his words forming a distant hum as your thoughts remained clouded and preoccupied. the lingering impact of his recent message kept you in a state of unease, making it difficult to fully engage in the conversation he was leading.

then, something inside you snapped, and you found yourself abruptly interrupting him with a question that had been gnawing at you, "why me?"

he looked at you, his gaze steady, and his response was quick, "why not you?"

your frustration simmered as his words hit you. he was choosing to be cryptic, and it was only adding to your confusion. pushing past your exasperation, you pressed on, "listen, i know we didn't part on the best terms, but why come back now and act like everything's fine? i mean, sure, it's better than hostility, but why choose me? i'm the one who's no longer part of your life."

his expression remained neutral, void of any emotions as he replied, "that's not true."

you raised an eyebrow, challenging him to elaborate. "what's not true?"

"that you have nothing to do with my life, y/n," he stated firmly.

the weight of his words settled heavily between you two, the gravity of the situation growing more apparent. the lunch table had transformed into an arena for confronting unresolved issues.

you scoffed, unable to hold back your disbelief. "jaemin, i made one mistake, and now you're trying to imply that my actions shaped your entire life?"

his eyes held yours, unwavering. "y/n, it's not just about that one mistake. everything that followed, everything that shaped who i am today… it's all connected to you."

your mind reeled, trying to grasp the enormity of what he was suggesting. the complexities of your shared history seemed to crash over you, leaving you grappling with a whirlwind of emotions and a tangled web of unspoken feelings.

the weight of his words left you momentarily speechless, and in an attempt to shift away from the intensity, you sought to change the subject. "where are the other producers? why is it just you here?"

"y/n…" he began, his tone suggesting he wanted to continue the previous conversation.

however, you opted to sidestep the discussion entirely. you pretended as if the profound exchange hadn't just occurred. "i notice you're taking on the role of a director now. quite the career shift, huh?" you inquired, masking your internal turmoil with a casual demeanor. you acted as if there hadn't been a two-year gap in your connection, as though things between you were perfectly ordinary.

he met your gaze, a faint hint of something unreadable in his eyes. "i pursued another dream when i felt i'd lost the chance for my first one."

"your first dream… not architecture, then?" you prodded, curious about the direction he had taken.

he shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping him, leaving you puzzled yet again. "no, not architecture. well, i suppose that just wasn't meant for me back then, but maybe it is now."

the cryptic nature of his response only added to the layers of confusion and intrigue that surrounded him. there was something about the way he spoke that hinted at deeper currents beneath the surface, emotions and experiences that he hadn't fully revealed. you found yourself torn between the desire to push for answers and the instinct to allow him his privacy. the lunch meeting had transformed into a stage for untangling not just the complexities of the documentary but also the intricate web of emotions and history between you and jaemin.

leaving the restaurant, a whirlwind of unanswered questions dances in your mind. yet, for now, you choose to tuck those thoughts away, focusing instead on the looming filming date just a few days away – next saturday.

in the span of time between that lunch and the upcoming shoot, jaemin proves consistent in his attempts to bridge the gap between you two. he regularly reaches out, updating you about his day and proposing get-togethers, which you consistently decline.

the days pass, marked by a series of messages and missed opportunities. despite the undeniable tension, there's an undeniable persistence on jaemin's part, a determined effort to reconnect and reestablish a sense of familiarity. however, your apprehensions and the memories of your past dynamics hold you back, keeping you from embracing his overtures.

as the countdown to the filming day continues, you find yourself in a delicate dance – balancing the unresolved history between you and the prospects of the future. the lines between your personal and professional lives are blurred, and the documentary project becomes a backdrop against which the intricacies of your relationship with jaemin play out.

you find yourself constantly pondering what his intentions could be. his actions leave you wondering, and you can't help but question what he's aiming for. in your perspective, you're merely a negative aspect of his life – a streak of misfortune. you would have expected him to have learned from the past, but his determination remains unshakeable.

as you contemplate these thoughts, your phone lights up once more, bearing yet another message from him. his name on the screen triggers a whirlwind of emotions – a mixture of uncertainty, annoyance, and a hint of curiosity. opening the message, you brace yourself for whatever he might convey this time. the consistency in his attempts at communication only serves to deepen the intricate web of emotions you hold for him, leaving you caught between your shared history and the unpredictability of the present.

"the offer's still there, y/n. :)" "jaemin, let's be real. just because i'm on board with your documentary idea doesn't mean we're suddenly best buds again. a lot has changed." "i want to reconnect, though." "actually, scratch that. i want to get to know you all over again." "jaemin, i appreciate the effort, but let's keep things professional, okay?" “i’m sorry, y/n. goodnight.”

after your straightforward message, his responses ceased. a silence settled in, stretching on until saturday – the day you were set to see him again. the anticipation and uncertainty had been building, and now the moment was finally at hand.

you stepped into the studio and immediately noticed that you and jaemin were the only ones present. your confusion must have been evident on your face, prompting him to address the situation promptly.

"um, the team thought having fewer people in the room would create a more personal atmosphere," he began, his voice carrying a hint of unease. "and, well, they decided to keep me here, you know, being the director and all, and also because we have a history…"

his words trailed off, and there was a subtle vulnerability in his tone. it was as if he was acknowledging the intricacies of your past connection, while simultaneously recognizing the complexities it introduced into your current dynamic. the studio, usually a place of creativity and collaboration, had transformed into a space laden with the weight of your shared history.

"it's okay," you responded, your words carrying a touch of reassurance. as your reply registered, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips – a detail you couldn't help but notice. after all, it was that very smile that had ignited four years of your life, a smile that held memories and emotions you had both shared.

"um, i'll just ask you a few questions, and then you're free to go," he stated, his voice carrying a hint of nervousness that didn't escape your notice. this new facet of his demeanor felt unfamiliar to you, a departure from the confident jaemin you had known.

you found yourself disliking this uneasiness, and a thought occurred to you – maybe it was time to rekindle something within him. as he began asking you questions, you decided to respond in a way that would evoke a certain familiarity between you two. it was a subtle attempt to bridge the gap, to draw out the person you once knew.

you had believed that his silence was what you wanted. you had convinced yourself that distancing yourself from him would protect you from the past mistakes. but now, facing the reality of the situation, you realized that perhaps a certain selfishness was ingrained within you. maybe, just maybe, you yearned to erase the distance, to defy your own rationalizations.

in this moment, you found yourself yearning to rekindle what had been lost, to bring back a connection that once meant so much. the conflicting emotions within you painted a complex picture of your desires – a battle between self-preservation and the longing for something more.

however, as you locked eyes with him and saw the lack of any discernible emotion in his gaze, a haunting wave of fear resurfaced within you. in that moment, it was as if time rewound, taking you back to the day of your graduation when your heart and spirit had felt shattered. the memory of that painful experience rushed back, accompanied by the doubts and uncertainties that had plagued you.

if you were to truly confront your own feelings, you'd admit that what you witnessed that night had left you questioning your own worth. the events had stirred up doubts about whether you had ever been deserving of taking risks for, whether you had ever been someone worth fighting for.

"hey, good morning, y/n."

"morning, director."

"how's today treating you?"

"pretty good, thanks."

"hmm, and what's life been like after college?"

"…"

"take your time."

"at first, i felt okay. my friends were all getting closer to their dreams, and i was genuinely happy for them. especially…"

"especially who?"

"especially the person i left behind."

"…"

"i was content being happy for someone else. then another year went by, and i wasn't feeling so great anymore."

"do you really think they're happy?"

"hmm?"

"the person you left behind."

"yeah. and my other friends seem happy too. they've got jobs they love, they're with people they care about, and i only had… renjun *laughs* … but sometimes, i can't help but feel like i'm the one who got left behind, you know? even though i was the one who walked away."

"let's talk about your person."

"oh *laughs* he's not my person."

pausing for a moment, you glanced at jaemin behind the camera. the question lingered in your mind: what was he trying to do? his actions and intentions remained a puzzle.

his expression grew serious, his gaze fixed intently on you. it was as if he had something to convey, something he was holding back.

"the last time i actually saw him was in an instagram post. he was with some girl. it happened on my graduation day. i waited the whole day, hoping he'd appear in the midst of the crowd. when he didn't, i held onto the possibility of seeing him by the gates. but that didn't happen either. my last hope was maybe he'd send me a single message, but by the end of the day, nothing came. then i went on instagram and saw a photo – a warning, i guess. a warning that i should just stop hoping. that… happened a few weeks later, i think. or maybe it was just a few days after our argument, the one where he told me he couldn't love… yeah."

you met his gaze and once again, his face was serious. his eyes were furrowed and his mouth was slightly open. a few moments passed, and he let out a shaky breath. screw it, you thought, it's out there now and i don't care anymore.

your silent exchange was interrupted as he shifted the camera away. confusion clouded your thoughts as you watched him move. he turned back to you, his expression still serious, and then he grabbed a chair from the nearby table. he sat down with his back facing you.

the room felt charged with unspoken emotions, leaving you to question his intentions and actions. it was as if he was peeling away layers, searching for something beneath the surface.

"did you know that…" he began, his voice breaking the silence. "she was his sister?"

"i never told you about her, that's on me," he admitted with a chuckle. "that was her last day, y/n. so i decided to spend the entire day with her. i'm sorry."

you were taken aback. "i'm sorry–"

"it's okay, y/n."

"i know i left you with so many questions that night, but let me tell you… every effort you made, every cookie you baked, i cherished all of it. i loved you. i'm sorry if my actions made you doubt yourself."

another pause filled the air.

"i left when you left."

"you were my dream. architecture wasn't really my passion, you know? i was struggling a lot, but luckily, you were there with me. i decided to chase after what i truly loved when you left, because i realized if i wanted you back in my life, it should be when i'm at my best, right? i wasn't lying when i said i couldn't love. i didn't want to love you when i was broken. i wanted to be the best version of myself for you. i thought that if i wanted you to be with the best person, then that should be me. so i became that person, a director, and then i planned all of this." his eyes finally met yours.

"i was always looking at you."

tears welled up in your eyes, and he seemed to notice. he took a step towards you and enveloped you in his arms.

"i'm sorry for not holding onto you back then, baby. but i promise, i won't let go of you now," he whispered.

"i'm sorry for leaving, jaemin," you sobbed.

"shh, you did what you thought was right."

"do you want to have lunch with me now?" he asked.

a mixture of emotions flooded your heart, and with a nod, you replied, "yes, jaemin."

250 notes · View notes

blueberrypancakesworld · 4 months

Text

Hurt and a Plan - FNAf 2023

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader

warning : fluff, comfort, blood, kissing

Summary : When Mike comes home from work and is injured, he is glad that a his sister is already asleep and b his girlfriend is waiting for him and taking loving care of him.

Info : Long story short I needed some more Mike and some comfort so yeah here you have it. Have fun reading ;)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~

His work already sucked, his dreams were more disturbing than usual and to make matters worse, the cut on his cheek and arm was more painful than he wanted to admit.

The animatronics, the whole place his own mind it was time to go home and he was glad and grateful for the first time that his junk car started. ,,Just away and home," he mumbled as he closed the door behind him and got into his car, the engine started on this still dark morning and he disappeared down the road to the settlement.

Please let Abby sleep and don't leave her with cuddly toys, he hoped inwardly as he glanced at the little stuffed monkey that was still lying on the back seat after he had taken his sister away.

She had insisted and he was glad that he had locked the office otherwise he wouldn't know what he would have said to Steven if the game machines or the animatronics had broken.

But he trusted in his girlfriend, she was his blessing and his everything. An encounter at his last job they had both bumped into each other while watering the plants in one of the flower stores and had both had to squeeze into the staff room in front of the dryer to get reasonably presentable.

And then she gave me her jacket... she wanted me to keep it, he thought, looking at the jacket on the passenger seat. It was an encounter that led to a committed relationship. She had the way to his heart and he to hers.

He had his own family for the first time...sort of. The thought was still strange, but when he parked the car in front of the house and saw the light still on in the living room, he knew she was still alive.

She was waiting for him, his sweetie. Entering as quietly as possible, he found himself in the small living room and dining room. Two in one, clearly saving space the last thing they had.

But even though he sometimes felt ashamed of his house, his favorite was there to find him and reassure him that it was all right. ,,Good morning-oh my goodness darling, what's happened?" he heard his partner say excitedly and worriedly as she got up from the chair.

She had seen the blood seeping through his sweater and he was grateful that the TV was still on to drown out any conversation, the last thing he wanted was for Abby to wake up and get scared.

,,Nothing I mean I got stuck and fell...I'm fine" he tried to shrug it off already trying to push past her he could feel his fear of her rejection, his pain, his thoughts of her leaving him. It was bad, the whole day was a tragedy.

But before he could crawl into the bathroom, he felt her hand on his shoulder. She looked at him with a gentle look,

,,Mike, hey, what's going on? I-I know this isn't easy, Mike, but I'm okay? Let me help you," she said as she saw him avoid her gaze, afraid of what was to come, before she slowly pulled him towards the bedroom. She saw how he seemed to be praying inside that Abby wouldn't wake up.

Luckily for her, as far as she could see it was not a complete deep cut, so he must have escaped to avoid a deep cut. ,,This is going to hurt a little...tell me what happened if you want" she began and opened the suitcase, seeing him turn his gaze from the ground back up to her.

Saw that tears were still in his eyes but also deep gratitude for their love, their relationship together and everything. ,,I-I fell asleep... well nothing special... but then I don't know my brother he-" he interrupted himself to let out a pained groan as she disinfected the wound he held onto her lightly and the blanket probably suppressed a painful cry.

,,Shh it's okay take it easy it's over you're here you see" she said and gave him a soft kiss on the stinr knew he liked it he wanted such a kiss every morning he almost begged for it and they both started laughing just for a kiss but she gave it to him.

Just like he always gave her a double kiss on her cheek. It was a little ritual of love but now they seemed to need each other even more. He was always there for her when she came home for the short time of sharing they both enjoyed, he brought her food with Abby when she forgot hers like al to fot or she brought him pictures and coffee with Abby.

It was all so fitting until those dark moments of reality. She heard his whimpering a mix of his joy and pain as she took care of his wound again after the reassuring kiss.

It looked better after a few minutes, the cut would heal with further treatment and she closed the bandage around his arm before putting the materials away and coming back to him. ,,Thank you, I know, I know I'm not with me today, the dreams, the job, everything is difficult," he began, turning to her and taking her hand in his, the trembling seeming to ease as he touched her. It always reassured him when they were together again.

He slowly fell backwards onto the bed, pulling her with him, the sound penetrating the silence before she cuddled up to him, resting her head on his chest, his heartbeat calm and almost slow. The fright and pain still made it beat a little fast but not so alarmingly that he had a panic attack. However, there was no longer any reason for him to be safe and with his family for now.

He put his hand on hers and drew small circles again, ,,I know it's difficult Mike...but believe me I'll stay with you I won't leave you and do you want my honest opinion?" she asked looking at him and saw that he had closed his eyes probably happy about the calm after the storm. ,,Please," he mumbled, just letting her go, even though she knew he always wanted to hear the truth anyway.

They would make it, but they both knew inside that it wasn't possible here. ,,Let's get out of here, make another ship and me too and then just get away from all this," she said the words they both hadn't dared to say knowing what it meant. She saw him open his eyes again from the poster on his ceiling that he was holding on to and look at her.

She saw uncertainty and fear flash inside him again, his eyes reflecting the fear. ,,Away? Where to? We don't have a home, there's nothing left except my money-losing aunt," he countered, knowing that his aunt was the biggest and only problem in all of this.

His aunt didn't like her either, but that was mutual. None of them liked her. ,,I don't know, I mean we've been saving up a bit to go to another state or get out of here altogether," she went on, but continued to hold on to him, making it clear to him that no matter what he said, she wouldn't leave him. Silence fell between them and she feared he would pull away from the room.

But instead he gave her a kiss on the head. ,,A month...a month to work as much as we can and you can look for a new place together," he said, she seemed to be watching him think about where they could go, how they could build a new life and whether Abby would even go along with it.

,,I love you Mike no matter what we end up doing," she told him, hearing his ,,I love you even more" words back before she felt him kiss her and pull her a little closer. The pain of the wound, his dream and trauma over for now. Whatever they would both have in the end, they would stay together.

~~~~~~~~~

#fnaf movie #fnaf 2023 #josh hutcherson #five nights at freddy's #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #fnaf mike schmidt

93 notes · View notes

wlfhrdlover · 1 year

Note

hello can you do a jenna ortega reader when the reader is a new singer and she admitted that she was in love with wednesday and the actress that portrayed her. Jenna was behind her. with fluff please

THAT'S AMAZING!!!

HAVE YOU EVER THOUGHT OF DATING A SINGER?

Jenna Ortega x singer!fem!reader

summary: you never thought that your longtime celebrity crush would be in the same room as you, neither that she would find out about your crush like that.

WARNINGS! none, just fluffiness and the author being extremely lazy of turning it on a slow burn.

Everything started when you posted a cover on YouTube, a simple cover of one of your favorite songs.

You never thought that it would blow up like it did, in a blink you already had thousands of fans.

Then you decided to write for fun, adding to the fact that you knew how to sing, you made your own career, a lot of producers or even other singers appeared to buy your songs and other things.

But right now? You stared at the paparazzis from your seat, the red carpet of the Golden Globes staring back at you. Your song in one of the best movies of the year were unbelievable.

You couldn't believe it.

You wrote some lines and when you turned, the movie blew up and with your music as the main soundtrack, you blew with it too.

Best Original Song, what the actual fuck.

You took a deep breathe and finally stepped out of the car, smiling and looking around for help so you didn't tripped.

When you reached the Red Carpet you were almost fangirling, being the biggest movie fan was something else right now, every actor and actress that you adored were right in front of you.

You were a pile of nerves right now, your hands slightly shaking but you took deep breathes, you made it. If you're here it's because you owned it! You need to calm down!

— Y/N!- you heard a voice and you turned, an interviewer called you and you walked up to her- Oh my God! You look absolutely gorgeous!- she exclaimed.

— Thank you so much!- you said smiling.

— How are we feeling tonight?- she asked and you laughed.

— Nervous, really nervous, I barely went on Tour and I'm already here! This is really crazy, I grew up watching every Award possible and I'm here today! This is really insane!- you said truthfully and she smiled at you.

— I can imagine it, I mean, one moment you were releasing an album for some people and now your music is getting all the nominations possible, congratulations!- she said and you nodded.

— Thank you so much, it's really a dream coming true- you chuckled.

— Well, you mentioned that you watched a lot of Awards, I'm guessing that you're a movie person?- she asked and you nodded happily.

— Dude, definitely! I'm really freaking out because I'm seeing a lot of people that I absolutely admire and we're at the same place- you laughed nervously- I've always loved watching Movies and Series and everything, I'm just really passionated about it.

— Do you have a favorite actress or actor that you wish to see tonight? Or even better, a celebrity crush?- the woman wiggled her brows and you laughed loudly.

— Oh man, I'm gonna be honest with you, I heard that Jenna Ortega is here tonight and oh my God, she is my favorite actress from all time, I mean, I've been watching her since she was on Stuck in the Middle, I do remember a lot of her jobs and the last one?- you made a sound with your mouth- Wednesday Addams could totally crush me and I would never complain, Jenna is so beautiful and talented, not to be this type of person but I'm so free for her all the time, Jenna is definitely the girl of my dreams.

What you didn't know is that Jenna was standing behind you and smirking like a devil with your words.

— What would you say to Jenna if you saw her tonight?- the woman asked chuckling knowing that Jenna was right behind you.

— One chance Jenna, that's all I ask- you said shyly- I would so invite her to I don't know man, go to a cafeteria, tea shop, I don't know, because I really have no idea of how to treat someone so perfect like her, if she says no I would still be blessed for even breathing the same air as her- you blushed and jumped when felt a hand on your waist.

Your dress had a slightly open part on your waist, so the coldness of the rings through your skin made you shriver.

— Don't worry about the 'no' part, because I would gladly accept it- Jenna fucking Marie Ortega was holding your waist and really close to you.

Your brain melted, you stared at her in somehow a love gaze and she definitely adored it, principally when you bite your own finger with a blush spreading on your face.

— You're so pretty- you blurted out and they laughed, Jenna hugged you tightly and you quickly hugged her back- Holy shit- you muttered with wide eyes when you noticed what was happening.

— Oh please, look at you! Not only your voice but you have such a pretty face- she said and you blushed even more.

— Me? Oh baby, you're the it girl of my dreams- you said.

Jenna never thought that love at first sight was real, but just looking at the way you talked and how your whole face would shine under the light whenever you moved because of your nervousness, did little sparks explode on her heart and brain.

When you two got to hide from the cameras, you were really shy, but Jenna was too. It was awkward for a moment before you two bursted out laughing.

— Oh my God, you heard me being a simp for you- you whispered covering your mouth and she laughed more.

— Don't worry about it, I thought it was really cute and most of the time I think it's creepy- she made a disgusted face and you giggled.

Jenna could hear your giggles all day.

— Sorry, I couldn't help it, you're... well, I didn't lied, you're the girl of my dreams really, there is no other way of being honest with you- you said and your whole body burned in embarrassment.

— Well, is our tea shop date still up?- she asked and you nodded.

— Oh definitely, I can take you anywhere you want- you said and she smiled.

When the ceremony started, you got lucky to sit on Jenna's side, you two talked and definitely judged the whole thing.

You also found out that she would be the one to present your category.

You were so lost staring at her that you didn't noticed when she opened the envelope in her hands.

— And the winner is...- she grinned- Y/N L/N for (song name)!- you widened your eyes.

After the Awards you went to the after party just to see Jenna, you planned on just going back to your hotel room, but Jenna begged you to go so she could talk to you.

— So, you really watched my whole filmography?- Jenna teased you and you blushed but laughed.

— You got me, I just always... I don't know, I really like to see you- you eyed her and she was definitely checking you out, you blushed more and looked around.

You leaned closer to Jenna and your hands touched, she smiled and your fingers almost danced together.

— I lied in that interview- you whispered and looked at her, she hummed.

— About what?- she followed your eyes.

— About what I would ask you if I saw you tonight- you muttered and Jenna leaned closer.

— And what do you want to ask me pretty girl?- she smiled, the few sips of alcohol on both of your systems made the two of you completely forget about the world, it was only you and Jenna right now.

— Have you ever thought of dating a singer?- you whispered and smiled while you moved your hand to gently hold her face.

— I'm willing to give it a chance- she said and your lips brushed against each others and without thinking, you pulled Jenna to a sweet and soft kiss.

NEWS!!

The actress Jenna Ortega and the singer Y/N L/N officially confirmed their relationship after 2 years of fans theorizing about the two together!

Everything started in a interview on the Golden Globes....

tap to read more!

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega fluff #fluff #jenna ortega imagine #wednesday #wednesday x reader

990 notes · View notes

blingblong55 · 10 months

Text

To live without- 141+Alejandro

Based on a request:

Hii can I make a request for some angst?? Maybe the reader having an argument with the TF 141 + Alejandro, inside the car or anywhere resulting to a break up?? Cause I'm a sucker for angst, thankss 🫶

F!Reader, angst, established!relationship, break-ups, cheating (not all)

A/N: This will be in 5 parts

Part 1 (John Price), Part 2, (Soap), Part 3 (Gaz), Part 5 (Ghost)

It has been a stressful few months for him, between his job, you, his own safety and yours, let alone the current argument over her. It's why you and he are now in the car, having this argument.

Alejandro:

A mission ruined what used to be something so special and unique. All because of a man who has too much pride to admit he is jealous that his friends and coworkers find you lovely and fun to hang out with. Currently, he is stuck having thoughts about some woman in his team, she's new and was sent from Laswell, so he knows she is just as good for his team.

The downfall of your marriage started way before her though, she was just the last nail in the coffin. He had been sneaking around for months and at first, it was because of the anniversary gift he had made for you. Now, he was sneaking around like some teenager. For weeks on end, he would have late-night gym sessions, early-morning meetings and excuses to extend his stay on base.

Tonight after a much-needed out in the town with him, he accidently slipped her name out. "Natalia, me puedes pasar mi teléfono por favor?" the second you both came to the realisation, he started to make excuses. You never said a word and that's when his insults came in, he bashed and cursed you out. Telling you how horrible of a wife you are, criticising your body, your way of speaking, cooking and even the once healthy sex life you both shared.

"Enough, Alejandro Vargas!"

That's when he knew you were absolutely upset and engraved by him. You only called him by his full name in moments like this. You looked at him as he kept driving.

"You keep fucking saying shit about me, but where the fuck are your own truths!" All he did was stay silent because now he has made the bomb tick.

"Amor-" he tried to calm you down. "Do not fucking call me that! You have lost that fucking right and you have lost me with it because having me, being married to me and even being in my fucking presence is a privilege!"

He tried to hold your hand and you pushed him away. "I know you are cheating on me, I am not as stupid as you think I am. Best believe if there is a stupid one in this marriage is you." Your words are like a dagger.

"Let me explain-"

"I am not listening to you give me some bullshit explanation, Alejandro. I am done with you and this bullshit thing we call a marriage." You gripped on your purse, knowing well you had to finally let it out.

"Please, amor-"

"I want a divorce." You don't look at him, not daring to even make eye contact after asking such a thing.

At that moment, he slowly pulled over and stayed silent, tears forming in his eyes as he looked at the dashboard. You are both silent. The end of a marriage and the beginning, for him at least, of the what-ifs. All you did to stay and all he did to keep you away. At this moment, for you, you thought of your children, and how hard this would be on them but it's better this way.

To live without

328 notes · View notes

jacksprostate · 4 months

Text

Tyler is hopping around on his pogo stick again. When he lands, it's with a mushy thump as he sinks into the rotting floorboards. Sometimes he gets stuck and just tips over instead of bouncing back up. It makes him stumble and jump ship. Moment of perfection ruined.

I need to renew my driver's license, I say.

"What are you telling me for?"

Thud.

If Tyler's bed had a backboard, this is how it would sound before he and Marla pounded through to the next room.

I am Jack's throat of bile.

"Fine," Tyler says. "We'll go."

I do not say, we? Questioning Tyler is an amateur move I've managed to avoid for two months now.

Getting to the DMV takes three buses and a thirty minute walk. Presumably, they've decided you'll be driving there. Sometimes I think about the Audi I had before my Dakapo halogen torchiere speared it. One of Zeus' modern day lightning bolts, making sure the debris from my exploded condo totaled my car.

I could've gotten the windshield replaced. Somewhere, in a junkyard filled with unloved 50s salvage, there's the crushed up cube remains of this year's luxury sedan.

Tyler spends the entire time walking one half step behind me, making me lead him around. It makes me feel blind, like I'm a thirty year old boy still trying to get his father to take him places. I am the world's most easily played instrument. Whenever I look back he's grinning, chipped teeth and split lips.

It's a Saturday and we've arrived two hours or so after opening. This means that when I get my ticket stub, it reads an obscenely high number. I will be sitting here for the next six hours. Give or take.

The thing about seating in a government building is they know you have no choice to be there for at least two hours, if you're lucky. Naturally, the chairs are cheap, yawning plastic bolted into the floor at a height most optimal for slightly tall seven year olds.

Tyler and I toss ourselves into the only two person gap we can find, between a large man giving Bob a run for his money on hormone reversal and a frail woman in her eighties. Both look like I'd see them on a weeknight. I wonder if this is where Marla lurks in the time between when she's fucking Tyler and fucking up my support groups.

"You don't need this shit," Tyler says.

He's slouching into the chair, arms crossed and legs long and in the way. If I were to look where his shirt is rucked up, I'd see his skin disappear into the dark gap between his chiseled hip and the beige slacks he puts on when he pretends he's pretending to be a nice person. It's an obvious farce, since he hasn't even bothered to put underwear on.

This is one of those things that I try not to think too hard about, but I have something like four hundred minutes left to wait around here. I should've brought a few National Geographics.

I need a driver's license for my job, Tyler, I say. The old woman gives me a look.

"Christ." Tyler spits on the floor. I try not to be jealous. My seat neighbor, she gets right up and goes to the other end of the building. "Just roll over, why don't you."

I can tell, this will be a lesson. He gets this huge sureness about himself, like his dick is so big it's slapped his face into that smug false contemplation.

I need some kind of ID, Tyler.

Tyler says, "No you don't. Your bank already has you by the balls with your social security number. You ride the bus around. You're at the airport so often the airline staff recognize you. You only drive when work sends you to a small town, which happens fuck all three times a year. Tell me, you get a good fake, you think the overworked and underpaid car rental employee writing down your information would notice it unless you crashed his car? You know if that happened it'd be because you did it to kill yourself, so where's the problem?"

You could be a perfect driver and die on the road at any second, I protest.

We're attracting attention. Not Bob shifts around. Our conversation is quiet but unnerving.

Tyler says, "Does it feel nice, signing yourself up like a feedlot steer?"

Fucking hell, Tyler. It's not like anyone wants to do this. No one wants to be here. Not everyone can work three night shifts and have no identity according to the government.

Tyler says, "The only thing stopping you is the little set of rules you've set up for yourself."

What does Tyler know about my ability to do things?

"More than you," Tyler says. "You didn't think you could fight. You didn't think you could live without your perfect IKEA nest."

He's right. I still want to kick him to the floor and introduce his teeth to the tile. I notice, Not Bob has cleared the area. Retreat to safety. Bomb detonation in five, four. We've got a three seat berth on each side with people standing packed against the walls of the place.

A lone security guard floats our way.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave, sir."

It's not the way that the men at fight club have started calling me sir. The security guard is looking at me like he knows about my condo blowing up, and he feels awfully sure about the cause.

I need to renew my driver's license.

Tyler says, "If we pay taxes for this building, these workers, doesn't that mean we pay your salary? You're going to kick out your kindest boss?"

"If you don't leave, I'll have to call the police."

Tyler says, "Can't even do it yourself?"

I think, every second of this day has been excruciating, and I have been awake for 77 hours.

Tyler socks the security guard right in the jaw, and the crowd goes wild.

It happens like this: Tyler hits the security guard with all four knuckles, all the people start screaming, and the security guard goes for his gun. I am standing in the middle of this hurricane, calm like a baby that's just been left in the car in 90 degree weather. I start walking.

Behind me, Tyler wrestles for the gun. He tosses it towards the kiosk that spat out my waiting ticket. He lets the security guard hit him in the gut. The face. The face again. He's on the ground, bloody spit threading his rebroken smile, and the security guard is kicking him in the gut. Tyler curls into a ball, the security guard kicks him in the kidneys. This will give Tyler bruises like size thirteen boots and make him piss blood for three weeks.

I reach the door, and Tyler's crawling after me. The security guard has come out of his haze, and now the crowd is staring at him. The headline: local DMV worker brutally bludgeons mentally ill constituent. People stare at him, now aware of the violence he is capable of. They wonder. He wonders.

Tyler limps out the door. We get on the bus and the driver stares at us and does not make us pay when we walk past him to the seats. The driver had a black eye. We saw him at fight club last week.

We sit, and I tell Tyler, because of him I'm definitely on a list now. Like they had for all those communists, but now it's for schizophrenics who might bomb their local state Department of Motor Vehicles location. I tell him if I get a letter saying I have to show up in court because I beat up a government worker, I'm sending him, and he can have fun explaining that to whatever rancid old judge presides over our case.

He laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

#fight club #my writing #this ones a little long actually. one day i'll probably put all these on ao3 #inspired by me recently having to do govt stuff. wasnt this but its what i could think of something coming up 4 the narrator #ftr “chipped teeth and split lips” is where my brain was like. :) done!#like no. theres more to be done here

59 notes · View notes

sissylittlefeather · 5 months

Text

How The Web Was Woven: Chapter 4

A/N: The next chapter in the time travel/soulmate AU with Elvis and a fem!reader. This one is less exciting, but sometimes you need a little peace. I hope this one is enjoyable!

Special thanks to @ccab and @elvisfatass for being my Elvis besties and the loves of my life. I hope you love this chapter!

Need to catch up? Here's my Masterlist.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, fingering, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie.

Word count: ~2.8k

How will you find him again?

******

Two years pass and in that time you formulate a theory. Unfortunately, that means that to find him you'd have to travel to Europe and that's just not financially feasible. You're a college kid who lost her part time job at a bank with the financial crisis of '08. Every penny you have goes to school and survival. Jetting off to Germany just isn't possible.

But you're pretty sure that if you can be in the same physical location exactly 50 years from when he's there, a portal will open. That's what has happened the last two times. So now you just need to wait until he gets back to the states in 1960.

But will he even want to see you? The way you left him was almost unforgivable. You've beat yourself up over it for years now. When you first came back, you sank into a deep depression that you never got fully over. You're doing a lot better now, but you'll never forget the look on his face when you walked through the portal. It's possible he may not have forgiven you either.

Still, you have to try. You can't live the rest of your life without him. After endless hours of research, it seems like your best bet is Washington Union Station on the morning of March 6th, 2010, or 1960 for him. If you can catch him there, you won't have to wait until he gets back to Graceland and risk being seen at the house. This way you'll be in public and can fade into the background if you need to. You're not sure how you'll get back, but you're never sure how that'll happen. It just always seems to happen, so you try not to worry too much. Besides, at this point, you don't care if you get stuck. You just need to see him.

You dress in your best 1960 outfit, fix your hair, and get in your car to drive to Washington D.C. You have a small suitcase full of vintage clothes and some toiletries with you, just in case. Wandering around Washington Union Station in the vague hope of running into him is a shot in the dark, but what choice do you have? You say a quick prayer that fate will be on your side again. Something seems to be bringing you together, so you hope it'll happen this time too.

When you get to the station, you head to the ladies room to freshen up. You want to look nice for him. In the bathroom, you take a deep breath and try to reassure yourself that everything will be fine. After a few minutes, you walk out and stand in front of the water fountain between the restrooms. You look out at the bustling activity of the station. Where do you begin?

******

It's cold when Elvis gets to the station with his entourage. He's still wearing his military uniform and he's just so ready to be home. There are fans pretty much everywhere he goes and while he's happy that he still has fans, he really just wants to go to sleep in his own bed. He decides to try to sneak away from his group for just a minute.

"I'm going to the bathroom. I'll be right back." He's got several bags with him, but he's so eager to get away that he just brings them with him. He walks to the bathroom and decides to stop and get some water from the fountain. That's when he hears the familiar buzzing sound and his heart stops. Without another thought, he grabs something out of his bag and walks through the portal.

******

You hear the buzzing sound and turn towards the portal. You can't believe you did it. You found him. As you're preparing to walk through the portal, someone comes through and bumps smack into you. You smell him before you see his face, considering you run into his chest. He doesn't pull back at all, he just wraps his arms around you, dropping whatever he was holding to the floor. You do the same and whisper into his chest.

"Is it really you?"

"God, honey, I've never been so happy to see someone in my life." You feel the tears well up in your eyes. He's happy to see you. He doesn't hate you.

The portal closes behind him with a quiet pop and you realize you were supposed to go to him, not the other way around. You pull back away from him and look into his eyes.

"Elvis, what if you can't get back?! I was going to come to you!"

"I told you last time. If I find you I'm not leaving. I don't care if it ever opens again." He leans down and presses his lips to yours passionately.

You forgot how devilishly handsome he is when he comes home from Germany. The kiss starts to get a little heated and both of you seem to have forgotten that you're in a public space. Finally, you hear an older woman clearing her throat. She wants to use the water fountain. When you unwrap from around each other she laughs and looks at you both. A look of recognition crosses her face when she sees him and her mouth drops open. You grab his hand and whisk him away before she can realize she's right. He reaches down to grab the thing he brought with him from the floor and then you both move quickly through the station.

"Where are we headed?"

"I don't know. This wasn't my plan." You get outside the station and the crisp air hits you both.

"What year is it?"

"2010. We're always exactly 50 years apart. I think I figured it out. We're 50 years apart in the same location. That's how the portals open."

"So it's been two years for you too. It's been a long two years for me." You look up at him in his army uniform, buttons glistening in the sunlight. You've missed him so much it physically hurts.

"It's been long for me too. I've missed you so much." He looks down into your face and leans down to kiss you again. He pulls back and looks out into the street again.

"Where should we go?"

"Well, we can go to a hotel or get in the car and drive back to where I live. Same town, but Katie and I have a house now."

"Let's go home. To your home." He corrects himself quickly, but he has every intention of making your home his as well. Especially after the last two years, he doesn't feel like he has much holding him in 1960. His career might very well be over and the one person he would miss is already gone.

You lead the way to where you parked your car and slide into the driver's seat. He puts the bundle he was carrying down at his feet and sits in the passenger seat. You've gotten a new car since the last time he was here, so it has new safety features. After a few minutes, it starts to ding.

"What's that?"

"You need to put your seatbelt on."

"The car is telling you that?!"

"Yes. It's up by your shoulder and it clicks in down by your hip." He looks around and reaches up to put it on.

"Damn car telling me what to do." He mutters and you laugh.

"Welcome to the future. The machines have won." Now it's his turn to laugh. He leans over a bit and puts his hand on your thigh.

You can't ignore the elephant any longer. You take a deep breath and ask the question you've been avoiding.

"You're not mad at me?"

"Why would I be mad?"

"Because of how I left you." He sighs deeply and looks out the window.

"I was angry. When you first left. But slowly the anger faded and I just missed you. The love was stronger than the anger." You put your hand on his on your thigh and he picks it up and kisses your fingers. You blink away the tears that have gathered in your eyes.

You drive in silence for a while before he asks to listen to some music. You plug your iPod into the aux cable and pick the newest album of the band he liked best last time he was there. For the rest of the way you talk about music. You tell him about the shows you've been to and he talks about how he misses recording. He has a small pang when he realizes he won't be recording anymore if he stays with you, but he'd rather have you. He can always sing. Maybe he'll start a band.

It's late afternoon when you pull into your driveway. You realize that you don't have any clothes for him, though.

"We might need to go shopping again."

"Later. I'm beat. Can we just rest for tonight? I'll wear your pajamas again." You laugh and nod as you make your way into the house. Katie is at work, but you know she'll be surprised to find "John" back when she gets home. She was incredibly perplexed when he mysteriously disappeared last time. But she just assumed he went back to Tupelo. She's asked about him a couple of times since, but you always assured her he was gone for good. You hope this will be a pleasant surprise.

When you get inside he drops the package he was carrying and wraps you in a hug.

"What's that?" You ask, gesturing to the bundle.

"It's for you." He picks it back up and hands it to you.

"For me?" It's something wrapped in brown paper, so you sit down on the couch to open it. When you get it open, you see that it's a bundle of letters.

"I wrote to you. While I was in the army. I wrote to you like you were back home waiting for me." You feel tears prick the corners of your eyes again.

"You wrote letters to me?"

"I did. I told you I never stopped missing you, never stopped loving you." You throw your arms around his neck and hold him tightly. All the sadness you've been carrying finally lifts and you wish he would never have to leave. You know he does, but you decide not to think about it tonight. Who knows how long you have before the portal opens again? You're going to make the most of every second you have with him.

"What should we do tonight?" He asks when you finally let go of him. You think for a second and then remember how much he loves movies.

"I have an idea."

You both change into pajamas and you bring him a stack of dvds.

"What are these?"

"They're movies. Pick some and we will watch them." His eyes get bright.

"We can watch them here at home?"

"Yes! Whichever ones you want." He starts to flip through the pile. He chooses three and you put the first one in, snuggling into him on the couch with his arm wrapped around your shoulder as you share a blanket. While he watches, you read through some of the letters. Each one simultaneously breaks and warms your heart. He was so unhappy over there, but his love for you is undeniable. You feel your heart swell with love for him, and it's only increased by seeing the childlike joy he has while watching the movies.

He's in awe of the progress in acting, cinematography, and technology. He can't believe how real everything looks. You're halfway through Star Wars when Katie comes home from her restaurant job.

"John's back!" You say as she walks through the door.

"Oh, wow, hey John." He waves, but is so laser-focused on the movie, he doesn't say anything. You turn back to Katie.

"He's never seen this before and he's really into it."

"Shhh!" He shushes you gently, so that he doesn't miss the dialogue. Katie smiles and tiptoes to her room. She's happy to see you two snuggled up again. Hopefully this time he'll stick around.

When the last movie is over, he gushes about the quality of the film, but you've fallen asleep on his shoulder. You were up before the sun to get to Washington and it's almost midnight. He leans over and kisses your forehead gently. He gathers the letters that are strewn about on the blanket and couch, making a pile of them on the coffee table. Then, he turns and scoops you up into his arms like a baby and carries you into your bedroom. He lays you gently on the bed and looks at you softly. You look like an angel when you're asleep and he can't believe how beautiful you are. He crawls into bed next to you, brushes your hair out of your face, and presses his lips to yours.

"I love you, y/n. I'm so glad I'm here." You nod sleepily and he wraps his arms around you to sleep. It doesn't take long for him to drift off too.

******

You wake up to the feeling of him running his hand up and down your thigh. When your eyes flutter open, he leans in and kisses you.

"Good morning, honey."

"Mmmm good morning." You smile and stretch. He kisses you again and then starts kissing down your neck. He's obviously in some kind of mood this morning, but you're not complaining. He runs both hands up the front of your sweatshirt squeezing your breasts lightly and presses his hard cock into your thigh.

"I missed you, baby." He whispers into your neck. You arch your back and press your body into him. He slips your sweatshirt up over your head and off. This leaves you in just your panties and he looks down at you hungrily. His passion rubs off onto you and you pull the t-shirt off of him and pull him over on top of you. He crashes his lips into yours and lets his tongue slide into your mouth. You roll your hips into his and then run your hand down his stomach to his dick, rubbing him through his pajama pants.

He moans into your mouth and bucks his hips forward into your touch. You slip your hand under the waistband and feel his naked cock in your fingers, stroking it up and down. He whimpers for a bit and then lets his hand slide under your panties, feeling the wetness that's gathered there.

"Mmm so wet for me. You missed me too, didn't ya baby?" You nod and moan softly as he slips one finger and then two inside you. He starts fingering you harder, slamming his hand against your pussy as he pumps quickly, the feeling driving you absolutely wild. You match his pace, rubbing his cock faster and faster. Your mouths are locked in a deep kiss as you both work your hands on each other. Finally, neither of you can stand it anymore and he rips your panties off while you yank his pants down and he pushes into you passionately.

"Mmmm."

"Yes, baby." He groans and puts his head on your shoulder. The sensation of you around him is almost too much. He starts to pump in and out of you and kiss your neck. You nibble on his earlobe and he moans deeply, pushing into you harder. You roll him over and sink onto his cock. Then, you bounce up and down on him as quickly as you can. He grips your hips tightly and pounds into you from underneath.

"God, yes. Yes!" You scream as you come hard on top of him, the electricity of your orgasm rushing from your fingertips to your core. He groans again as your walls pulse around him, pushing him over the edge into his release.

"Fuck, baby, yes!" He moans loudly and slams into you one last time, shuddering as he comes inside you. He kisses you one last time and you collapse on his chest breathing heavily. You lay there together for a minute before you hear the buzzing sound.

You sit up and slide off of him and see the portal over by the door of your room. He doesn't move.

"Elvis! The portal! You have to go!"

"No." He says it quietly without moving a muscle.

"What? No?"

"I said no. I'm not going."

"You have to!" You argue back and forth for a bit before he finally sits up next to you. He looks into your eyes and puts his hand on your neck.

"Y/n, I told you. I'm staying here with you. I love you and I don't want to be without you for another two years or God knows how long. Stop telling me to go." Just then, there's a quiet pop and the portal disappears.

Your heart and your mind race with the reality of what just happened.

"Oh my God, Elvis. What have you done?!"

******

Until Chapter 5

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @ashtag6887 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @that-hotdog @eddiesgirlforever

#elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis smut #elvis presley fic #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis #elvis presley x y/n #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #elvis presley x you #elvis presley smut #elvis fic #elvis presley fanfic

115 notes · View notes