#and then you get past all the fuckin. the two of them beating the shit out of each other by way of communicating and its like

[zanarkandskylines]

listening to fortnight got me thinking about bakugo and reader having a very brief fling, something that happened in the past during their 20s, but stuck with both of them for years.

i touched you for only a fortnight i touched you, but i touched you

fast forward to living in the same city, the two of you now in your 30s and end up becoming neighbors by happenstance. you're both married to other people since you only talked in shared friend group settings after said fling.

all my mornings are mondays stuck in an endless february

you watch his wife water her flowers in the garden out back while making coffee in the kitchen every goddamn morning. you have no clue why it irks you so much, that the sight of her stupid smile makes you wanna punch her lights out.

occasionally, you run into bakugo at your mailboxes after a long day at work. small talk is the only thing you two can muster - a comment about the weather or harmless compliments about each other's appearance.

"sure rained like hell yesterday."

"nice sweater, your wife buy it for you?"

"god, it's too fucking hot today."

"that dress looks nice on ya."

one night, both of your spouses are away when a storm comes raging through the city. your power goes out, leaving you in the dark because your stupid husband forgot to replace the generator. from your windows, you see bakugo's household has power and decide to hightail it over for some company.

he answers the door with a confused look on his face. "the fuck you doin' in the rain? get in here!"

bakugo makes you a coffee to share with him in the kitchen, bullshitting through the night like you used to do as twenty somethings. it felt natural, your heart soaring as you watched him laugh and retell jokes from the past. when the conversation died down, you blurted out something you didn't plan to vocalize to anyone.

"i think my husband's cheating. sometimes i just wanna kill the bastard."

caught off guard by your admittance, bakugo quirks an eyebrow at you in response. "little extreme, but i'm sure that could be arranged."

"would be cheaper than a damn divorce. that asshole would take everything from me."

he snickers, taking another sip of his coffee. "think my wife's doin' the same. comes home late and shit, never can tell me why."

"how'd we get stuck with this shit luck?" you retort, forcing a laugh from your tightened chest.

"could be worse. we're neighbors, that's fuckin' lucky for me."

i love you...it's ruining my life.

"oh? i'm starting to think that's not a coincidence anymore."

bakugo sets his mug on the countertop, turning to face you while crossing his arms over the broadness of his chest.

"might'a convinced my wife to move here. thought maybe we could be friends again."

"so you bought a fucking house next to me instead of just calling to go to dinner?" you ask mockingly, a smirk on your face as you awaited his bullshit answer.

he shakes his head with a grin of his own. "sure did."

i love you...it's ruining my life.

"how come you never ask or invite me over then? we're literal neighbors, kats."

"pretty sure my wife's scared of ya. plus, i want time with you, not us."

that makes your heart skip a beat.

"hell of a way to say you miss me." you pause before setting your own cup down on the counter. "i'm glad you're here."

"me too."

right as he's approaching you, the front door swings open.

"babe, i'm home!" his wife calls, handful of shopping bags. she sees you standing in the kitchen aside bakugo - you give her a soft wave.

"oh, hi. i didn't expect company tonight."

"her dumbass husband forgot to replace their generator. just helpin' her out."

she gives him a glare, tilting her chin up at him, almost condescendingly, as she assesses his answer.

"how unfortunate. stay as long as you need, i'm gonna go put this away."

and with that, she leaves for their bedroom to unload her shopping haul. once she's out of earshot, you turn to bakugo and chuckle under your breath.

"oh yeah, she hates me."

bakugo rolls his eyes. "let her be miserable, it's her strong suit. come on, let's go take'a look at that generator."

the generator works just fine, you unplugged it before coming over.

you were curious if there was a spark leftover between you two, only to find the fire was not only stoked, but never fully extinguished.

blasty tags; @slayfics @maddietries @queenpiranhadon @starieq ✨

#bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #bakugo x y/n #bakugo drabble #bakugo imagine #bakugou headcanons #bakugou drabble #bakugou x y/n #katsuki bakugou #☆.rei writes

[astranauticus]

todays orv mood: standing at the water dispenser under my dorm building waiting for my instant noodles to cook just pacing in circles and swearing

#orv liveblog #should i tag spoilers for like. ramble in tags?? #ok i'll do it just to be safe #orv spoilers #idk in case my webtoon only irl friend suddenly decides to log back into her tumblr after 3 years #context chapter 311/46th scenario #ok theres a lot going on here #first off 1863th round yjh is a character made to haunt me specifically so when the name hell of eternity came up wow i was feeling like #500 emotions at once and none of them were good #second i saw someone on lofter say today that most of the talking kdj and yjh do in this book is through fights and just #LIKE I JUST. cannot get over how our perspective of their relationship is just always being filtered through these two people #who are just fuckin INCAPABLE of TALKING ABOUT THEIR FEELINGS like NORMAL PEOPLE #like it drives me so insane that this book is so show dont tell by necessity bc kdj is a fucking moron so we just get these #insanity inducing details like yjh paying to extend his midday rendezvous with kdj for 3 years and just using it as a personal journal #and then you get past all the fuckin. the two of them beating the shit out of each other by way of communicating and its like #'i want to lock you up so you'll stop dying because im scared im not strong enough to be able to stop you and we cant lose you again' LIKE? #SIR WHAT??????? HELLO?????????????? #also the line that made me start pacing in circles around the water cooler while swearing in mandarin was specifically #'i couldn't be the protagonist. i couldn't save someone else' #says the DEMON KING OF SALVATION. like damn its 'sacrifice's will is a stigma that didn't really suit me' all over again #like i love that kdj has the nerve to be like 'of course i dont want to die' and yjh just absolutely does not buy it for a second #god. i want to hit him on the head with a brick.

[redstarwriting]

the clash | vii. i wanna be sedated

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 2k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, you(?) hating hobie, anxious hobie, panic attacks, mentions of death, threat of main character death, giving blood, negative self-talk, ANGST

a/n: another short one, but that’s because it’s about to get intense. there’s a possibility the series may be ending within the next two chapters, but we shall see what happens! please enjoy this one, and i promise it won’t be all angst the rest of the time lmao there will be a pay off, next chapter should be LONG and give a smidge of happiness

previous chapter: vi. (with someone you shouldn’t’ve)

now reading: vii. i wanna be sedated

next chapter: viii. love you to death

───────────────────────────────────

Hobie stares at Miguel. He can see his lips moving, but he can’t hear what he’s saying. All he can hear is his heartbeat and the blood rushing to his head. Kill? This other version of him was meant to kill you. Does that mean he’s going to kill you now that he killed him? No. No that can’t happen. He won’t let it happen.

“HOBIE!”

Hobie realizes he’s gripping the desk in front of him. His eyes are wide, and his heart is beating faster than he has ever felt it beat before. He clenches and unclenches his jaw, swallowing nothing. His throat is dry. Miguel hesitantly places a hand on his shoulder. “Hobie, can you hear me?” He nods, staring ahead of him at his hands. “I think I might know what you’re thinking. You won’t kill them. You aren’t going to take the place of Hobart on their world,” he assures him, and Hobie tries to control his shaky breathing. “You have to calm down,” Miguel says in probably the gentlest voice Hobie has ever heard from him. He forgets he’s a dad sometimes. And that he also has gone through some shit. He nods again, trying to take in what Miguel just said. He accidentally snaps two pieces off the desk with how hard he’s gripping it. He closes his eyes and takes a breath. “You were trainin’ ‘em to stop him.”

Miguel nods. “I was.”

“Does that mean I can still save ‘em?” Hobie looks at him, and Miguel sighs. “Maybe… but–”

“But what?” Hobie frantically asks, and Miguel frowns. “The Venom symbiote was supposed to take over as the Spider-Person for their world as Hobie Brown… if we defeat Venom…”

“Please don’t tell me…” Hobie whispers, and Miguel nods. “There is a 100% chance their world will collapse. It’s the final canon even in (Y/n)’s story.”

“No…” Hobie shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “No, there has to be a way! We can do somethin’!”

“Hobie…” Miguel starts, but Hobie turns his head towards him, suddenly angry. Ready to fight. “And you were just gonna let this bloody shit happen?! You care so fuckin’ much about the fuckin’ canon that–”

“HOBIE. No! I wasn’t going to let it happen. Why do you think I put so much time and effort into helping them?! I’ve been trying to fix it!” Miguel yells, “I know you might find it hard to believe but I’m not a fan of an evil symbiote taking over the world of someone I’ve been mentoring for the past month.” Hobie looks down again. “What if they just… stayed with me? In my world?” “Hobie, if their world disappears, they disappear,” Miguel explains and Hobie shakes his head. “No. Find out a way to make ‘em stay! You can do that! You have tech and all the shit to do it! We can save ‘em!” Hobie is screaming at this point, and Miguel stares at him for a moment. He sighs, rubbing his face, distressed. “There… might actually be a way,” he says. Hobie nearly falls to his knees. “How?”

“I’ve been developing something to change the genetic code of someone, making them appear like they belong in another universe. My thought process behind it is if Miles did it with the spider from Earth-42, we can do it here as well,” he explains, typing something into his computer. Hobie watches the screens. He reads everything happening in front of him, but it’s a little hard at this particular moment as it feels like everything is kind of crashing down around him. He is able to get some basic information on how Miguel would do this, though. “We’d just need somethin’ from my world, then?” he asks, and Miguel nods. “Yes… but unfortunately the process can be… painful.”

“How painful?” Hobie asks, and Miguel glances at him. “Are you willing to do anything to save them?”

“Yes!” Hobie says, and Miguel nods. “We tested it on inanimate objects until we were sure it would work, then we tested it on animals. And while it always turns out fine in the end… the process is difficult to watch. Their molecules will be rearranged and changed, tearing them apart and piecing them back together. Can you sit by and watch that happen to them?” Miguel asks, and Hobie gulps. “I can try…”

Miguel holds up a smaller device, showing it to Hobie. “What you do is you take anything from your universe, inanimate, and put it in here. I’ll also need a blood sample from you.” Hobie then notices that he’s still gripping the pieces of the desk in his hands. He opens his hands, and the remains of the desk fall out of them and onto the floor. Miguel hands the device over, and Hobie holds it, tossing it back and forth in his hands. “What do I do with this?” “I just told you,” Miguel says, glancing at him. Hobie stares at the little device in his hands. Right. He did just tell him. He hasn’t felt this scatterbrained in a long time. He takes off one of his pins from his vest, sticking it inside. It whirs and shuts tightly. Miguel takes it back from him and nods. “This should work perfectly. Now, I need some blood from you. We’ll perform a blood transfusion with the blood from your world to stabilize them as the genetic splicing takes place, luckily with the technology we have here on Earth-2099, the transfusion should take no longer than 3 minutes,” Miguel explains, as he begins walking toward his lab. Hobie follows him, quieter than he’s ever been in his entire life. Miguel glances back at him. “Are you okay to give some blood?”

“Yeah. Should be nothin’,” he mumbles and Miguel nods.

Miguel motions him to sit in a chair so he could get some blood from him. He sits. “You know, this is the first time you’ve done what I’ve said without fighting me on it,” Miguel says as machines start up, preparing Hobie’s arm for blood extraction. Hobie scoffs. “Come off it, mate,” he mumbles and Miguel shrugs. “I’m just saying.”

“I’m still Spider-Man. I can be responsible or whatever,” Hobie says as the machine takes some of his blood. “Mhm. Apparently, you can,” Miguel says, and he looks at him. “So, you like them, huh?”

“What?”

“(Y/n)? You actually ended up liking them?” Miguel asks again, and Hobie shrugs one shoulder slightly. “Guess so,” Hobie mumbles, and Miguel shakes his head. “The blood extraction should be done soon. How are you feeling?”

“Bloody brilliant,” he mumbles, and then sees Miguel’s face. “Buck up, bloke. I’m fine,” he answers and Miguel nods. “I’ll get everything ready. Bring them here, and we’ll figure out the rest. If it’s the worst case scenario, let me know. I’ll send back-up.”

Hobie stands, giving Miguel a nod, and walks out of the lab. The blood extraction did make him a little light-headed, but he doesn’t have the time to sit around and wait to feel better. He’s lost in his thoughts. He let his anger get the best of him, and in doing so, put you in danger. That was the last thing he wanted. He wanted to protect you and getting that asshole out of the way was the best way to do it. He thought it was the best way, at least. But it turns out that that asshole was him. And now you’re in even more danger than you were before. If that symbiote bonds with you… He doesn’t wanna think about it. Symbiotes can fuck up a host. He’s seen it happen. He doesn’t want you to have to go through any of that. And to top it all off, Miguel was saying how dangerous this symbiote is. Does that mean if it bonds with you, it’ll kill you? And is it like his symbiotes where noises drive it crazy? How did he fuck up this bad? 

He's torn out of his thoughts by a familiar voice. “Hobie! Hey!” Gwen yells, landing next to him. “Alright?”

“I’m good. You should have seen it, Miles, Pav, and I took down Doc Ock after he escaped from prison, it was crazy. We could have used you and (Y/n),” she starts rambling off and he just listens. “Sounds great,” he mumbles, and she raises an eyebrow at him. “You okay? You seem a little… down.”

“’m fine,” he mumbles, and she doesn’t believe him, but she knows he’ll talk about it when he’s ready. Miles and Pavitr appear shortly after, talking to each other about how they did a move together that was ‘so cool!’ and how they need to show Hobie it as soon as they can. “Right, great talkin’ to you all, but I have to go visit (Y/n),” Hobie says, fiddling with his watch to open a portal to your world. “Oh, are you guys on speaking terms again? About damn time,” Miles says, and Pav leaps up and down with a little clap. “Have the two of you accepted your feelings for each other yet?” Pav asks, and Hobie just glances at him, not saying anything. Usually, he would tell him to piss off. But he’s not about to do that when he did realize his feelings for you. So he just stays quiet.

The three of them look at each other with wide eyes as Hobie steps through the portal and into your world without a word.

As soon as he’s back, the air feels a little… different. Maybe it’s just him coming to terms with what he’s done, though. He’s unsure how much time has passed since he left, but a quick glance at the grandfather clock in the corner of your room tells him he’s been gone about three hours or so. He hears a soft meow and looks to see Shadow peeking out from behind a small crack between the wall and your fridge. “Hey, Shadow,” he says, crouching down and holding his hand out. Shadow cautiously approaches him, sniffing his fingers before walking into his hand. He pets him and looks around. “(Y/n)!” he calls your name but gets no response. Strange.

He hears another meow and looks down at Shadow who is staring at your balcony doors. The curtains have been pulled over them, but he can see that one is open from the wind blowing the curtain inside. He sees the silhouette of someone on your balcony, but if it was you, you would have been saying something to him by now.

He gets a bad feeling.

He slowly stands, and Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr end up coming through the portal. “Shh,” Hobie says, holding up his hand and pulling his mask over his face. The three of them glance at each other as they realize something is wrong, too. Hobie slowly walks toward your balcony doors, pushing the curtain out of the way and seeing your form facing out towards the city. You seem to be in your suit, as you’re shrouded in black from head to toe. But it looks like a new suit. Pav, Miles, and Gwen follow him, on edge the whole time. He stares at you for a moment, but you stay still.

“(Y/n)?” he says your name, and he sees your head tilt slightly, signifying you heard him. “Is that… you…?” he asks. You turn slowly. His eyes widen and his heart drops. He was too late. He sees a toothy grin spread across what was supposed to be your mask and clenches his fists as he hears Venom laugh. “(Y/n) can’t come to the phone right now,” Venom says, their otherworldly voice causing the four spiders to prepare for the worst. “But I would like to thank you, Hobie Brown, for freeing me of my constraints.”

Hobie has a flashback to his fight with himself. “The glass…” he mutters, and Venom lets out a laugh. He feels the world close in on him. His hands shake. He was too late. You were already taken over by Venom. As if reading his thoughts, Venom smiles at him, muttering the words that make his heart stop.

“You led me to them.”

───────────────────────────────

『 tag list 』

@444neapolitain @afraidofshrimp @arianalovescatss* @aroaceg @astrok1dz @baefy3764 @casmosmoon* @ch6ntt* @chill-guy-but-cooler @cl0udyw4ter @cursedbitchboy @d1nne @death-and-rebirth-again @dotheyevenknowmars @epicy0n @f1shb0nez @faerieluuv @fisshil @fukingsad @fushiguropleasesteponme* @frankintheoceann​ @friendly-reject @g4bb1​ @hisdarlingabsurdity @idk-i-draw @imarealfungi @imobsessedreader* @ineedsomeconfidence @inkthgoat @iwillrisefromthefire @j3st3r-13 @jayelyyynnn* @jingliuu @jinxedleo​ @jjkclub @katiebug0603 @kenqki @ken-zah​ @khaleesihavilliard @kittekat420 @kitty-kei @lacunaanonymoused @lightning-wolffe* @localbeidousimp @luxlibsonwannabe​ @madusas-girlfriend @marshallowy @marsyay78 @messylxve @miss-hon3y @miss-puregotti​ @mistpx* @miwagila @monsterroonio​ @moon-shampoo* @naarra* @nikabearr @notbluees @notplutos* @pookiesnatcher @queen-of-the-bored @queen-of-the-grapefruits @romeomahbromeo @sadbitchhours400* @sammywammy1​ @scoliobean @shittingonyourgrave* @sillylittleguyinc @simplefools* @siriusly1 @sparklyphantom​ @srystix​ @stars4salem* @starshine145* @stevenknightmarc @sxftiebee @tacogirl96​ @tengen-fourth-wife @thatweirdgirlsposts @tobanditto​ @umiexe​ @user2772636​  @valee1xoxo* @wannabe-fic-reader @weyrrii* @wheeeelys @woahrin* @xoxobabe* @zero-boxes

*if you are italicized - i am unable to tag you for whatever reason, feel free to reach out and see if we can fix the issue

if you asked to be on the taglist and i forgot, i’m sorry :( feel free to leave a comment on this or message me separately and i’ll get you right onto it!

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #hobie x reader #spiderpunk x reader #spiderverse x reader #hobie brown #hobie #spiderpunk #spiderverse #theclashofthespiderverse

[donatellawritings]

cherry - around your neck - r. jerimovich

pairing(s): richie jerimovich x f!reader

warning(s): language, age-gap, explicit sexual content

song: the party & the after party by the weeknd

24 hours. Twenty-four hours remained until you’d stand face-to-face with the older blue-eyed man who’d come to plague your every thought, in recent times. Twenty-four hours, so close, yet so dauntingly far. Seated directly before the mirror your worn chipped-paint coated vanity, you drank yourself in. Dressed in the thin, black mesh fabric of your nightgown, you carefully examined yourself for any outstanding flaws. The concealer that once sat comfortably under your eyes now faded and live-in, courtesy of the mentally and physically taxing classes you’d endured hours prior.

Your eyes were a bit smudged from your generous application of mascara, you’d decided your staple eyeliner wasn’t needed today. Your faded and worn brown and mauve lips adding a much needed flush to your lips as you forced a closed-mouthed smile at your reflection. Your deep-red painted acrylic nails combed through your hair, adding a smidge of volume as you tilted your head, posing in the mirror, once more. Were you desirable enough? You’d just hoped that Richie would think so.

I mean, fuck, clearly you were desirable enough if he’d asked to expect a video-call from him, so close to your first official meeting date. The palm of your right hand carefully pressed against the knuckles of your left, popping the knuckles and granting you the slightest bit of relief from your anxiety-ridden nerves. Why did he want to see you? Did he want to put an end to your tryst, before it even got a chance to begin? What did Richie Jerimovich want from you that he needed to see you at this very moment?

Opening your sticker-covered laptop, you waited. Watching the reflection of yourself, through your webcam, you adjusted the hem of your nightgown to sit comfortably against your breasts, pushing them up just a bit.

Now biting into the your acrylic-reinforced thumb nail, your foot tapped against the cold carpet of your bedroom floor. Scraping your teeth against your nail, you stared at the screen of your laptop, hopelessly.

The chime of Richie’ video call request shocked you, your posture straightening as you rushed to accept the call, exhaling a breath with a smile as the call connected, revealing sight of Richie, his eyes blown and bloodshot.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

-

Truth be told, Richie couldn’t find it himself to wait any longer. The past three days had been eating him alive, the impatience and anticipation that came with seeing you, touching you, becoming all too powerful against his already shaky sense of willpower. You were intoxicating, a way more addicting and raw being that was stronger than any of the substances he’d previously conducted dealings with. He could only come up with so many scenarios of you, in his mind to get himself off in the dark and tense hours of the night. So, he gave into temptation, gave into himself.

Richie could tell that you were nervous, shit, he shared the same sentiment, if not more. Asking to see you a day earlier than planned, out of the blue, he could only imagine the worst things that you could say to him. yet, the sight of your skin clashing against the confines of the thin mesh fabric, your breasts perked up just right, made it that much harder for Richie’s patience to take hold. He didn’t care where you two would go, or what time it was, he needed you, and sooner rather than later.

“Thank you, Richie,” you smiled softly, licking over the leftover mauve that stained your lips.

The two of you sat in silence for a beat. The sight of your chest rising and falling with a shaky breath becoming too much for Richie - he was too far gone.

“Richie is everything oka-”

“I need to you see now, I just, I can’t fuckin’ wait until tomorrow,” Richie blurted out, running his hand over his grown out bear, shaking his head with a smile.

You remained silent, biting down into the swell of your bottom lip with a short and breathy laugh.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re just makin’ it real fuckin’ hard for me, looking like that,” he continued, slightly adjusting the tie that laid around his neck, the glint of his gold chain peeking through from underneath his white button-up shirt.

Richie’s nerves began to run rampant as he aimlessly rambled, “I get it if you want to wait, you deserve to have the fanciest dinner of your fuckin’ life, but I need to see you, baby, so fuckin’ bad-”

“I don’t want to wait, either.” You spoke faintly, leaning your face to sit in the palm of your head.

Fuck. Richie was so fucked.

-

A subtle ache that hummed between your legs made its way through you. Knowing that Richie held the same virtue of desire eased your initial anxiousness, the two of you were teetering on a dangerously thin line and you both knew it.

Richie swallowed thickly, “Give me twenty minutes,” he spoke, his raspy voice now holding a heavier tone, “twenty minutes and I’m all yours.”

You shifted in your seat, tightly crossing your left leg over the other with an obedient nod, “all yours,” you repeated.

Richie abruptly ended the call, leaving you a nervous wreck as you sat in silence, the sound of the mild rain that hit your window, failing to calm your buzzing veins that struck you with adrenaline.

You took one last look at yourself in the mirror, debating on whether or not you should touch up your makeup, the farthest part of your subconscious telling you that you may not need to. Something about Richie’s demeanor excited you, he was domineering, yet this time he seemed feverish, almost needy?

You could barely speak yourself, lord knows how much you craved Richie, to the point where the thought of finally having him was nearly enough to bring you to your knees.

Throwing your head back, you let out a sigh, a smile laced with excitement and shock pulling at your lips as you struggled to come to terms with the fact that you were only minutes away from finally indulging in the baby blue-eyed older man. A laugh escaped your throat as you ran your fingers through your hair, before pulling your head up straight.

Standing up from the vanity, you quickly scanned your bedroom or any sign of mess. Why are you so nervous, it’s not like this is your first time being a with a guy, let alone having one at your apartment, but a 45 year old man who you met online - that was a first for you.

You made your way to the living room, turning your television on to a random channel, before heading to your kitchen cabinet, where you sifted through, until you’d found two wine glasses - did Richie even like wine? Setting the two glasses on your kitchen counter, you snatched your refrigerator door open, reaching for the cheap bottle of Moscato that you’d gotten for yourself for special occasions, like this very night.

Slamming the refrigerator door shut, you hastily reached inside of your freezing, grabbing the ice tray and cracking it, allowing a few cubes to all into each wine glass, before sliding the half-used ice tray back into the freezer. Placing the wine bottle next to beside the two ice-filled wine glasses, you took a breath.

The abrupt shrill of your ringtone broke you from your brief moment of stillness. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“Coming!” You shouted, to no one in particular, your heart racing as you rushed to your bedroom.

Snatching your phone from your bed, you accepted the call, bringing your phone to your ear, “sorry, I was just fixing up some stuff,” you answered, swallowing the lump of nerves that had formed in your throat.

The sound of a car door closing could be heard on the other end of the phone, “S’okay, I’m downstairs - shit, uh, what apartment are you stayin’ at?” Richie questioned.

It took everything in you not to take a peek at him from your bedroom window, “Oh, yeah, I’m in 4E.”

“Alright, give me two minutes, sweetheart,” Richie cooed.

“Bye, Richie,” you ended the call, scanning over your appearance in the mirror of your vanity, “fuck,” you muttered under your breath.

-

Richie stood in the dimmed elevator, his leg bouncing as the elevator beeped with each passing floor. He was so close to you, he could taste it at the tip of his tongue. He kept his hands inside of the pockets of his leather jacket, exhaling sharply as the elevator door opened, allowing him to enter the Fourth Floor hallway.

“Fuckin’ aye,” he laughed to himself, shaking his head in disbelief as he approached the door with ‘4E’ imprinted in gold.

Sliding his right hand out of his jacket pocket, Richie brought his knuckles to the heavy door, knocking rhythmically against it. Richie silently cursed himself out as he waited at the door, his head hung low. The sound of you unlocking the door caused Richie to straighten and broaden his shoulders.

Richie’s eyes fell on yours the moment you opened the door. That fucking dress - god, Richie couldn’t even think straight as the two of you stood in silence. His eyes drank you in, he couldn't help but want to study everything about you - you were much shorter than him, so much so, that he wanted nothing more than to have you against the wall with your legs wrapped around him. He could tell that you’d just spruced up your hair with those sleek red nails, he wondered what they’d feel like digging into his back and shoulder blades. He wanted nothing more than your lips on his, seeing the way you’d lick over them, leaving him a needy and greedy mess.

Man, you were such a fuckin’ tease. Of course, you’d decided to keep that nightgown on, Richie tried to remain a man of manners and respect, keeping his eyes trained on yours, instead of on your hand that smoothed itself against the curve of your hip.

”Y’gonna let me in, sweetheart?”

-

You were completely entranced by the man who stood before you. He was tall, oh so tall, and you loved the way his oversized leather jacket clashed against his unbuttoned dress shirt and slacks. You allowed his bright baby blues to selfishly drink you in for a beat, before stepping aside, “come in,” you spoke softly.

Your eyes fluttered closed for a quick second as you shut your front door, taking a small breath before turning to face Richie, whose eyes scanned your apartment.

“You got a nice place here, yeah?”

“Uh, yeah, thank you,” you forced out a laugh as Richie’s eyes landed on yours, before motioning towards the kitchen, “would you like some wine?”

Richie shrugged off his jacket, neatly placing it on the arm of the couch as he licked at the corner of his mouth, with a nod, “Thank you, beautiful - y’need me to open it or?”

“If you don’t mind,” you accepted, your stomach turning in excitement as Richie approached you, sliding his warm hand across the side of your waist as he made his way into the kitchen.

-

Richie grabbed ahold on the wine bottle, gripping it by its neck as you leaned your back against the kitchen counter, “Y’like white wine?” He questioned, pretending to be engrossed in the cheap bottle.

“Red gives me headaches,” you spoke.

“Depends on the type you get.” Richie quipped, not missing how your hand gripped the edge of the counter.

Richie was slowly drifting off into the deep end - the tension-thick air becoming too much as he stood before you, huffing out a breath as he reached over you to open the refrigerator, sliding the bottle inside, before pushing the door closed.

Now face-to-face with you, Richie keeps his eyes directly on yours, “Tell me, where’s your head at, sweetheart,” he questioned, the tips of your noses ghosting against each other as you shrugged.

“Can-can I touch you?” You asked, your voice coming out as a whisper as you lifted your head, inching your lips closer to his.

“I’m yours, I already told you that, baby.”

And Richie meant every single word.

You nodded, “then can you touch me?”

Richie nodded, bringing his hands to your waist, smoothing his hands against your skin, before lifting you onto the counter, allowing his hands to cup your face, “tell me if it’s too much and I’ll stop, I fuckin’ swear I’ll stop, baby,” he spoke, his raspy voice needy and hoarse as his eyes search yours for any signs of displeasure.

-

With that, Richie’s warm lips were on yours, the kiss warm, wet, and hungry as you both moaned into it. Richie’s scent of musky cologne and faint cigarette smoke sent you into a daze, a whimper sneaking past your lips as Richie’s tongue slid against yours. The rough hair of Richie’s beard deliciously scratched at your lips as he adjusted himself, deepening the kiss even further, pushing you farther back onto the counter, any further and Richie would be climbing onto the counter himself.

A gasp left the two of you’s lips as you both caught your breath before you hooked your leg around Richie’s slim waist, pulling him in closer with a throaty moan. Richie’s calloused hand slightly tightened around your throat as he groaned into your mouth, the sensation of your nails accidentally scratching at the side of his neck becoming all too good to him.

Without breaking the kiss, Richie hiked your other leg around his waist, swiftly wrapping his free arm around you as he pulled you into his chest, carrying you over to your dining table.

Richie pulls away from you, feeling a faint pang in his chest as you pouted, “I know, baby, just lay back for me, I need to fuckin’ taste you,” he pleaded, pulling you in for one more quick kiss, before you laid back against the cold glass surface of the table.

A short gasp left your lips as your back arched, the frigid glass singing your skin through the thin mesh of your nightgown, “fuck,” you muttered.

Richie’s hands were quick to lift the hem of your nightgown, allowing the mesh to bunch up at your waist as he tapped your legs, silently beckoning you to spread them as you complied.

“Fuck, so fuckin’ pretty,” He smiled, pulling you closer to the edge of the table, before lowering his head between your thighs and pressing a wet kiss to your panty-covered pussy.

Richie presses another kiss to you, before sliding your underwear down your legs and allowing them to fall to the floor, a groan leaving his lips as he raised one of your legs to rest over his shoulder, kissing your inner thigh with open-mouthed kisses before making his way back down to your aching pussy.

Pressing his tongue flat against your wetness, Richie took a long and greedy lick up your folds, repeating this a couple more times, before sticking his warm and taut tongue inside of you.

“Fuck, Richie,” you breathed out, trying to grab at the completely smooth glass surface of the table as he stuck his tongue inside of you once, more, pushing himself deeper with a moan.

Richie had you right where he wanted you. And fuck, eating you out his new favorite hobby.

Richie was disgustingly greedy with you, the mixture of your slick wetness and his saliva coating his beard as he slurped away at your pulsing clit, your hoarse moans like music to his ears as he continued to lap away at you, the hand that held your leg over his shoulder now moving towards your core.

“Keep going, please, don’t st-”

Your whines fade into a gasp as Richie slides his index finger into you, the squelch of his finger enclosed in your walls sending you into a frenzy as Richie pulls his glistening face away from between your legs. Your mouth is hung open as Richie begins to thrust his finger at an agonizingly slow pace.

Taking in the wet sound of your pussy taking in his finger, Richie leans over you, his free hand now gripping your throat as he leans his forehead against yours, “M’gonna put another one in baby, just keep - fuck, just keep those pretty fuckin’ eyes on me, okay?” Richie speaks, his voice deliciously low as you nod feverishly, your nails scratching at the table.

“I-It feels so good, Richie, fuck,” you cried, your hoarse voice struggling against Richie’s grip on your throat.

Nevertheless, you did what you were told. You kept your eyes on Richie’s as he pulled his finger out of you, quickly re-entering you with both his index fingers as he pushed them all the way inside of you.

“Oh, fuck, you’re doing so fuckin’ good, baby,” Richie moaned, watching closely as you fought to keep your eyes on his.

Richie’s fingers quickened their pace inside of you, the lewd sounds of how wet you were, coupled with the ferocity of his skilled fingers leaving Richie wanting nothing more than to make you cum.

“Richie, I-I’m gon-”

“I know, baby, I know, I got you,” Richie cooed, maintaining the quick and hard pace of his fingers as he sloppily kissed you, keeping his forehead against yours as your eyelids became dangerously heavy.

“I’m so fucking close - so fucking close,” you moaned, your vision growing hazy as Richie hummed.

“You’re so fuckin’ close, I can feel it, baby.”

Richie’s hand moved from around your throat, to cradle the back of your head, forcing your to keep your focus on him as he curved his fingers inside of you, hitting that deliciously sweet spot, over and over again, until you let out a throaty cry. Richie quickly kissed you, his finger working you through your orgasm as you cried into his mouth.

Richie slowed his fingers to a gradual stop, allowing you to ride out your orgasm against his hand as you came down from your high. Your breaths were choppy and uneven as you tried to regain your composure.

Your pupils were blown, eyes wild as Richie took in your post-orgasmic appearance, so he decided he'd test the waters, bringing his/lips to your ear, “open,” he commanded, a burst of pride sweeping inside of his chest as he watched you close your swollen lips around his fingers.

You sucked softly, your strained eyes never leaving Richie’s as you gently pulled his now dry fingers out of your compliant mouth.

Richie couldn't wait to fully have his way with you, hell, in this moment even he knew that you had him wrapped around your finger. You did so good for him.

The two of you sat in silence, after Richie carried you to your bedroom, Richie standing between your legs, leaning over you as you pecked his lips, “You can stay the night, if you want,” you offered sweetly.

-

Richie was all yours and he understood that, one-hundred percent. How could he say no to those eyes, those same eyes that soaked his in as you came to a climax, how could he say no to you?

“Y’want me to stay?” He prodded.

You smiled, kissing the pendant of his gold chain that hung in front of you, “I want you to stay.”

Richie groaned, gently grabbing your chin between his thumb and index finger, “alright, then you got me, baby,” he agreed, pressing his lips to your forehead, softly cradling the back of your head.

You weren’t sure what this would mean for your relationship, moving forward. Hell, Richie wasn’t even sure what this meant, but he knew that he wanted you, every part of you, he’d just hoped that you wanted all of him too.

-

i hope you all enjoyed part three - now things are going to finally get fun <3

#richie jerimovich #richie jerimovich x reader #the bear fanfiction #the bear #richie jerimovich fanfic #richie jerimovich imagine #richie jerimovich smut #the bear fic #the bear imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto

[s1ater]

lorenzo’s luck.

pairings. mobster!slytherin boys x fem!reader

about. in which it’s been a rough couple of weeks and lorenzo is facing the heat of it all.

warnings. swearing, a beating,

ricky rocks. okay, new idea sense i’ve been watching the sopranos lately and writing generic slytherin boys is getting boring for me rn… also i’ve been seeing some stuff abt lorenzo on tiktok and even something on here and i think i characterized him totally wrong? but also not because i read the book (but not really) he originally came from and he didn’t seem as sweet and innocent as people play him as. idk, i’ll stick to what i have now but lmk what y’all think ig

everything and everyone was on edge.

for the past two weeks the feds had been down your neck, jeopardizing your whole lifestyle and way of work.

everyone was in a pissy mood because of it—because when the feds were on your ass, that meant having to be careful, and your job was hard thing to be careful about when every move you made was highly incriminating. so when being careful, you barely got to work, and no work meant no profit.

it was hard to specify exactly what you did.

you were a mobster.

there it is, in the simplest form.

there was a lot of pressure in being one, especially when law enforcement was there to make things ten times harder.

and it wasn’t only affecting you, but entirety of your group;

“you’re a fuckin’ idiot, lorenzo, you realize that? take a fuckin’ look at yourself in the mirror and stare at something that isn’t just your face and realize you’re a fool,” mattheo’s voice erupts so suddenly through the air, startling all of you. “get your shit together.”

it was already starting. you, theodore, blaise, lorenzo, and mattheo had just barely taken a step into one of the many backrooms of the businesses mattheo’s father owned when the composure came fumbling down.

lorenzo had just barely sat his ass in one of the leather seats when the attention was pinned to him, “jesus, what’s up you’re ass m?” he laughs, but you can tell it’s a nervous one. “jesus.”

you glance to theodore who winces at the response like it was his own. that was the worst possible thing to say, especially to mattheo, especially right now where his anger and frustration was at an all time high.

you can see that anger pulse through his skin in a spike as he finally seems to processes lorenzo’s antagonizing words.

oh boy.

“fuckin’ saved your ass, enzo. you know what my fathers saying? that you’re a loose fucking cannon and i need to let you go,” he has his hand raised, shaking it in his face. “and you know what? we don’t let people go. there’s no such thing as letting someone go in our business. that’s a rare ever occurrence.”

letting someone go is disposing them. taking them out to the back and putting them down like a dog.

“get your head on straight and don’t you forget that you wouldn’t be here without me, because you’d be dead.”

“you act like you’re so fucking clear minded,” he huffs, leaning his head against the palm of hand.

that was enough.

mattheo swings himself around, throwing his fist into the face of enzo as hard as he can. you flinch at the sound of enzo’s nose cracking beneath the contact of mattheo's knuckles. you feel yourself tense up at the noise not letting up, but rather playing over and over, filling the room with ugly sounds of punches fill the room.

“mattheo-“

your call out is cut off as theodore takes your shoulder, pulling you back, “don’t.”

“he’s going to kill him.”

“he won’t,” he pulls you even closer and further away from the violent scene unfolding before you all, tightening his grip. “lorenzo’s too viable.”

he was right. even as enzo was a loose canon, he brought in a lot of profit and kept his end clean… for the most part.

lo was too salient for mattheo to kill, but his loud mouth was enough to tip mattheo over the edge.

it was a perfect way for him to blow off steam; beating in the face of his friend.

***

“don’t you look like a dime.”

it’s been a week since mattheo went on his little rampage, and you were now just seeing lorenzo in his healing state.

you’re smiling up at him, pinching his cheek as he rolls his eyes to your attention, “yeah, yeah, get off my back.”

he looked far from a dime; his nose was broken causing both his eyes to sport dark rings of bruising around them while the lining of his jaw was turning a dark purple and yellow.

“you and mattheo civil now?”

“define your idea of civil.”

“well, you’re not dead, so I assume you two are as civil as civil gets in mattheo’s terms.”

he scoffs, “yeah, well, let’s hope mattheo and his father are on the same page and I don’t end up dead in the next week.”

over a month ago, some of lorenzo’s boys hijacked a truck everyone was told specifically not to mess with despite the fair amount of profit that could come from it. and unfortunately, they dug themselves an already deep hole, deeper by obtaining the truck through a casualty.

lorenzo had received the blame, despite it having nothing to do with him other than the men being under his supervision and responsibility. he had to pay for it, and he did…

“you’re on the higher end of things, he won’t kill you.”

“that’d be the exact reason for him to kill me,” lorenzo corrects you. “I’m on the higher end for a reason, i can’t fuck up.”

you press your lips into a thin line at the thought of his words. mattheo’s beating must’ve really enlightened lorenzo because there was rarely ever a moment you caught him in such a grave mood where he was so in touch with reality.

his attitude on life was light and so unserious; you were unsure on how mattheo even recruited him when that was the exact opposite that this job sought out for. but then again, the boy recruited all of you.

“then don’t fuck up,” he laughs lightly, but it’s caught in the back of his throat. “again.”

“great advice, y/l/n,” he glances at you, “really got that one on the nose.”

“don’t be a douche,” you slap him lightly. “I don’t know what you want me to say, lo. you’re alive, you’ll stay that way too as long as you don’t press your luck.”

“hard to press my luck when I don’t have any in the first place.”

you gaze at the side of his face, attempting to gage the general emotion or even thought process going through his head, but there was nothing. not even his usual perma-smile could be found.

***

“someone approached me awhile ago-“

“who?”

“doesn’t matter who—a clients girlfriend,” lorenzo is anxious, pacing back and forth before all of you in the backyard of mattheo’s home. “i was offered a deal.”

you wince immediately.

lorenzo had collected the whole lot of you; everyone except mattheo. you all sat on his back deck, fixating between the full beautiful greenery backyard of the riddle home and lorenzo, who hadn't spoken till now.

a deal.

he should’ve stopped there.

“a deal?” blaise arched a brow, now leaning on his forearms that rest on his knees. “what kind of deal?”

you all knew exactly what type of deal it was.

enzo’s eyes don’t reach any yours, but he’s stopped pacing, wondering whether he should really speak it now.

don’t say it.

“immunity,” he says it flat out, bringing truth to all of your thoughts. but he doesn’t seem ashamed to this with the way he looks at each and every one of you in the eye finally. “she said once we all get impounded, there’s a way out for me.”

once. not if.

“i tell them everything. i rat every single one of you out and i’m given immunity.”

you all look up at him like he’s crazy. and he is; to be speaking like this to a bunch of mobsters—threatening the entirety of their life and business is crazy.

“we get thirty years plus. there’s no doubt. they get us and we’re already laid in our graves before trial because what we’ve done is absurd-“

“are you saying you’re a rat, berkshire?”

“no,” he shakes his head fast. “no, not at all.”

“that’s not what i’m hearing,” draco shakes his head. “i’m hearing you’re getting nervous with all this recent snooping of the feds and you’re fuckin’ rat.”

“fuck off, malfoy. i’m just telling you what i was told. i’m not a goddamn rat. i’d have to be mental to give up all we’ve done-“ his hand finds his forehead and he’s pacing again. “fuck if i even remember half of it.”

you’re all back to silence, thinking about this. rat or not, this did not look good for him.

your eyes suddenly settle on the light and distant bruising under enzo’s eyes; finally healing. you think about mattheo beating in his face over and over, and then you think about what he’d do if he ever found out about lorenzo’s offer.

“they have a lot of shit on mattheo.”

you all look back up to lorenzo now, a certain interest now crossing each of you again.

“what type of shit exactly?”

“type of shit you don’t get parole with… or out of jail for that matter,” he looks even more stressed than before. “she said the rest of you could have chances of a life after serving. not him.”

this wasn’t a surprise. mattheo always had a quality that none of you did when it came to getting things done; something sociopathic. he always took risk without question of consequence. he moved in silence, he didn’t hesitate, didn’t think, he always got things done faster than all of you combined.

so if mattheo did something beyond all of your usual tasks, you wouldn’t be surprised.

“i mean that makes sense, matty’s been at this longer than the rest of us,” you reasoned it out, only to be stopped immediately.

“no, you don’t understand,” enzo shook his head.

“what exactly are we not understanding here, enzo? you seem to know something, so why don’t you just spit it out,” theodore sits up, speaking for once. there’s obvious annoyance and distaste in his mouth as he stares at the boy before you with a narrowed look.

lorenzo pauses, looking back at him with the same look. you can tell there’s a thought process behind his eyes, and his anxiousness is slowly melting away.

“you know, where do you guys think this is all going? genuinely. you think we’re going to spend the next couple of months running clubs, collecting money, and beating up the occasional person that’s late on their payments for fun?” lorenzo has turned sour, looking at each of you almost as if he hates you all for your ignorance. “this is for life, and we’re only at the beginning point.”

#fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #mafia #mobsters #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire #enzo x reader #louis partridge #louis partridge x reader #louis partridge imagine #harry potter imagine #slytherin #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #blaise zabini x reader #blaise zabini imagine #blaise imagine #blaise zabini #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter

[ohbabydollie]

Mutual Breakup HC

Female reader gets a call from the school about her son being involved in a fight with another student

Schlatt follows her and they both learned that their son was being bullied for not having a dad because his parents aren't married

You walk into the office, schlatt and your son sitting at a table. across was a woman and her son, you recognized him as being on the same baseball team as your son, he looked as he always did. except with a busted lip and black eye, hair messy and shirt stretched at the collar.

you sit down next to your son, whispering “what the hell did you do now?”

before your son can speak the woman starts screaming “He beat the shit out of my poor son over here! GOD YOU WALK IN ALL INNOCENT, I BET YOU TAUGHT HIM THAT CRAP!”

she stands up and before she can continue the principal tells her to calm down

“look, ma’am, understand you’re frustrated but that doesn’t mean you can scream at other parents” he says calmly as she sits back down

“they’re lucky we don’t get the police involved. i need your son to apologize to my poor, innocent baby boy and we can all drop this” she demands as the kid has a shit eating grin on his face

“fuck no” schlatt says crossing his arms “my son doesn’t have to apologize for shit, suspend him, do whatever, but he’s not fuckin’ apologizing”

“jay! what are you doing!” you ask him “im so sorry, matt, apologize to the boy please” you say turning to your son before schlatt shakes his head no

“we’re not apologizin’ he can spend however long at my place but we. ain’t. sorry.” he says

“im not sorry n i never will be” your son replies, schlatt giving a confirming nod

you let out a groan

“look, we’ve been at this for well over an hour” the principal says rubbing his temples “we got two options, both parties apologize and they get back to class or 3 day suspension”

“we’ll take the suspension” “Schlatt! matty, please just apologize to the kid” you say turning to the woman

“look, im really sorry, normally my son doesn’t act out like th-” “it’s probably your slutty behavior teaching him like this!” she says as your mouth opens in shock

“excuse me?!” you say getting up

“oh what like everyone doesn’t know already? you and your, whatever the fuck he is,” she says gesturing to schlatt “weren’t together and haven’t been together his entire life. no wonder he’s acting out so bad, he’s upset for being cursed with a whore as a mom”

you suck your teeth before standing up “what happens in our home is no one’s business besides our own and you can forget about that apology! c’mon matty, we’re going for ice cream” you say standing up, grabbing your purse “we’ll take the suspension, it won’t matter when her kid is living at home in his 30’s”

your son quickly gets up, as you walk out and schlatt takes a quick candy off the bowl on the table as he walks out with a grin.

“meet us at the ice cream place down the street, i’m taking matt” you say walking to your car as schlatt nods.

“matt, what did you do?” you groan once you’re in the car “the pta moms are iffy about me already and once they find out my son beat up some kid? fuckkkk” you say rubbing your face

“im sorry mom” he says softly “it’s-” “just, please, can you save it so we can talk with your dad?” you ask as he nods

“im really sorry mom” he says looking up at you as you exhale and sit up

“you know what? you’re already suspended, it’s all in the past and it doesn’t matter anymore, it’s okay” you say starting up the car and driving off to the ice cream place, trailing after schlatt’s car.

once all of you arrive and are happily eating your ice cream that’s when you speak up “so, what even started the fight?”

you see your son’s mood change from what was calm to pissed off before he lets out a sigh “he was making funna me” he says upset “he called you a whore and i remember dad saying if they ever say anything bad about your mom, let them make sure they know you’re her son” he admits as you look to schlatt

“are you serious? why would you tell him to fight kids for me?” you ask

“mom, this isn’t the first time” matt says as you look to him “they make fun of me ‘cause the two of you aren’t together anymore and this was the first time they called you a name and-and i wasn’t gonna let them!” he says angrily

you look to schlatt as he nods in affirmation, “they make fun of him and say that i probably ran off to get milk and other shit”

you look to your son in sadness and shock “r-really?” you ask, he nods and that’s all you need as you start tearing up “i-i’m so sorry baby” you say hugging him

“you don’t gotta apologize ma” he says as you press a kiss to his forehead

“no, i honestly, im sorry honey” you say softly “i almost made you apologize to that asshole kid! how about we go out today for dinner?” you ask, matt nods

“can dad come?”

“of course honey” you say happily as the three of you finish your ice cream “we’ll do it in reverse, dessert first and dinner last”

the day goes by, then somehow schlatt ends up back at your apartment, carrying matt up to bed before coming back down to you.

“you okay sweetheart?” he asks as you snap out of your thoughts and look at him

“yeah, yeah” you say walking over to him “you think we’ve played this little game long enough?” you question, running your fingers through his hair

“what game?”

“the lets pretend like me and my ex aren’t still in love, like we don’t still want each other and we haven’t wanted each other in years” you say softly “i think im tired of it”

“i am too” he admits, wrapping an arm around your waist

“let’s get married then” you say leaning into his touch “legally, we can move in together and stuff, matt can have his family together without going from house to house”

“that would be nice” schlatt whispers softly as you grin

“okay big guy, let’s get married” you say smiling

schlatt bends down to kiss you “god, ya don’t know how long i’ve been waitin’ to hear those words” he lets out a chuckle “i guess we also did this in reverse”

i feel like they’d get married before she gets pregnant tbh, but do everything privately and wouldn’t publicly announce anything until y/n is very visibly pregnant

#schlatt x reader #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #jschlatt x y/n #schlatt x y/n #schlatt x you #jschlatt fluff #schlatt fluff #jschlatt headcanons #jschlatt hcs #mbu!jschlatt

[kylelovskii]

THE MEAN KYLE SMUT IS WHAT I NEEDED UGHHH I NEED MORE OF HIM, BULLY KYLE IS THE ONLY HESDCANON

OMG YESSS FRRR

like with how angry he gets— bully kyle just seems right 😇😇

holding my kyle plush as i write this tbh

"you’re pretty..y'know that?" cartman asked you, pushing your hair behind your ear. you looked down, all shy, and nodded. "thank you.."

you knew this was wrong. kyle would surely find out, but you couldn’t help the way the compliments made you feel, and you also couldn’t help the way you felt when kyle would say such degrading things to you.

you two weren’t even together, so what was the harm of a little flirting with eric?

"bet you’re a good girl too. wanna show me?" your faced turned red. "are you sure? i don’t have much experience.." you bashfully admitted. cartman waved a hand and shook his head. "i’ll show you the ropes, doll."

"really?" you asked, eyes wide and expecting.

the the whole group was at eric’s house, but without kyle noticing, eric led you to a secluded area to whisper sweet nothings to you, and possibly get in your pants. it was definitely working.

"really," he answered, giving you an affirming nod.

you smiled as your eyes strayed over his shoulder, then you spotted kyle, gripping a cup of some sort of drink, tight. so tight you could see his knuckles turning white.

eric noticed your smile fading and the direction you were looking in. removing his hand from your face, he slid it down to your waist as he turned around.

his smirked faded as well, noticing the very tall red head. his face almost matched his hair, he looked so mad.

he dropped the cup on the floor, the liquid seeping into the carpet. cartman mentally cursed kyle. now he had another mess to clean up.

kyle shoved past cartman and gripped your arm, dragging you upstairs. as you squeaked know fear, he stayed silent. having been to cartman’s house a shit ton of times, he knew there was a guest bedroom. he swung the door open and slammed it shut. loud enough for the whole house to hear.

"doll? yeah fuckin' right. doll." he shoved you down on the bed and forcefully pulled your panties down. "more like a cheap whore."

"wait— st—" kyle grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks, and pulling it closer to his. "shut up. quit talking. i’ve heard enough of your annoying voice for one day."

kyle let go of you, taking off his glasses and shoving them on your face. he then unbuckled his pants, pulling them down slightly. he climbed into the bed, on his knees, then pulling his boxers down, freeing his cock.

"remember what i said last time? how you’re being punished and you’re not gonna get your way?" you started to say yes, but you were cut off, "i said i don’t wanna hear you. i know you remember. this is exactly one of those punishments. now you shut up and take what i give you."

he pried your legs open, then shoved himself inside you. he leaned his head back, groaning. "god, you are tight."

he started to fuck you at a brutal pace, harder than you could take. you sobbed loudly. "mgh—! wai—" you cried out, reaching up to put a hand on kyle’s shoulder.

"go on, cry. no one’s gonna come up here and fuck you like i do though. not cartman, not kenny, not anybody," he spat, grunting out each word. "i’msorryi’msorryi’msorry— kyle, pleaseee," you cried, tears streaming down your face from how good it hurt.

his pace was getting faster, and your screaming louder. his glasses began to fall off your face. he felt so good, but at the same time it was hurting. it hurt so good though.

"oh, don’t beg for me now. you were so ready for cartman to come up here and take you. but..i beat him to it, didn’t i, bitch?" the nickname made you pulse around him. he let out a loud groan.

"mmh…you like it when i call you a bitch, huh? thought you were a good girl? so much for that." the grip he hand on your waist was harsh and painful, surely to leave bruises.

you were so lost in the pleasure until you felt a sting on your cheek. then you felt it again. he was slapping you, trying to get your attention. "hey! i’m talking to you, cum dump."

a lovesick smile painted your face. "hmm?" you whimpered out. "you think anyone can fuck you like i do? s'that why you go around, lookin' for to someone to fuck you stupid?" you shook your head, letting out a desperate moan.

"speak up," he demanded. "n—..no. i don’t!" you whined, still shaking your head. "then why the hell do you do it, huh?"

"’cause…‘cause you’re mean! they’re n—nice!" kyle let out a loud, high pitched laugh. "i don’t give a shit if i’m mean or not. still fuckin' you, aren’t i? and look at you, you’re about to cum."

then kyle pulled out, ruining your orgasm. you cried, more and more tears falling down your face. "noo! nonono!" you whined, the brattiness lacing your voice. "shut up."

kyle scooted up, stroking himself quickly before letting out a loud moan and cumming all over your face.

he sighed, pulling his pants and boxers back up, then buckling his belt again. he looked at you, smirking. "god, you’re so pretty like that. go clean up. i’ll see you down stairs." he took his glasses off your face, and wiped the few drops of his release off them, then put them on his face, pushing them up with his thumb.

he got off the bed, then left the room before you could even beg for him to let you finish.

#x reader #south park #south park x reader #kyle broflovski #kyle broflovski x reader #eric cartman #south park kenny #kyle broflovski x reader smut #bully!kyle broflovski #smut

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Three (m/m, cold)

And now, for something completely different.

Well, not completely - it's still a cold fic lol. This one is specifically for @ghostlychill who has asked for more Matt and Mark. This is basically the saga of how they ended up together, and it is certainly out of my wheelhouse because it actually has romance lmao. A pre-warning, this is plot heavy (for me) and a little sneeze light. There are a few Greyson cold sneezes, and Matt is sick for the latter half, but it's more of a romance sickfic than a true snz fic. But I hope you like it if you read it; let me know if you all want more Matt and Mark. They were honestly really fun to write, and I banged this monster of a fic out in just a few hours so the muse was musing.

Ok, done rambling. Enjoy :)

CW: Male, M/M (not sexually explicit, just kissing), colds, contagion, coughing, fevers, light mess. 4.3k words under the cut.

Three

Their first kiss was an accident.

Post-brunch. Pre-holidays. “Grab a beer?” Mark had asked as Matt stuffed his dirty chef coat into his backpack. It had become a bit of a ritual for the two of them to grab a drink after a long shift in the past few weeks; usually it was under cover of darkness, but this brunch had been particularly brutal and Matt was craving not just a beverage, but some commiseration. He shrugged, hoisted his backpack onto a shoulder.

“Sure. You’ve got first round.”

One round had quickly turned to two, then three, and before five pm hit they were drunkenly crashing their pint glasses into each other and talking much louder than the half-full pub required to be heard. Matt drained his fifth beer and looked to Mark, smiling sloppily. “One more?” he asked.

Mark pushed his hair out of his face and leaned his head into one hand, taking the other man in. “If it’ll keep you in my line of sight,” he said, emboldened by booze, “I’ll stay here all night long.”

When the bartender finally kicked them out around eight, the two men were so drunk they had to use one another as walking sticks to get down the block.

“We’re way too drunk to be on the street,” Mark laughed, putting a hand over one eye. “I’m seeing, like… quadruple.”

“That’s wild, ‘cause I can’t see at all,” Matt said, looping his arm through Mark’s. The two of them laughed and stumbled until they hit a bench near well-lit central park and flopped down.

“I can’t remember where I live,” Matt admitted, placing his head on Mark’s shoulder. Their arms had stayed looped. Mark gently placed his head atop Matt’s.

“Me either,” he said. “But… can I tell you a secret?”

Matt looked up. Nodded.

“I don’t want to go home,” Mark said, letting a slow smile spread across his face. Matt felt his cheeks flame; he let a beat pass before he smiled back.

“Me either,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Later, they wouldn’t remember who initiated it. All they would remember was when their lips pressed together, everything else melted away.

***

“Oh! Oh, shit, fuck, sorry guys I didn’t -”

“Chef, shit! Oh, fuckin’ hell -”

Greyson slammed the door to the bathroom shut, leaving Matt and Mark to stare at one another, eyes wide as saucers – the silence between them thick as the cigarette smoke that hung in the air outside that little room.

Finally, Mark broke the silence. “Um… do you think he saw anything?”

Matt couldn’t help it; he barked out a laugh. Mark slapped a hand across the other man’s mouth, making him laugh even harder. He really didn’t know what he’d been thinking following Mark in here in the first place.

Much like the stupid party they were hiding from in the bathroom, their second kiss was clearly a mistake.

The New Year’s Eve party had been Elijah’s idea, much to the surprise of literally everyone at the restaurant.

“What?” Elijah had asked when his announcement during pre-shift had been met with a stunned silence. “I thought you all loved parties!”

The servers and cooks eyed one another in a way they all hoped wasn’t completely obvious, until finally Greyson said what everyone was thinking. “Boss, yeah, everyone loves parties… except you.”

Elijah had scoffed at this. “You guys obviously don’t really know me; I love parties.”

Of course, Elijah didn’t love parties and it ended up moving from his roomy condo to Greyson’s tiny Brooklyn apartment at the last minute. Post-service on New Year’s Eve, Matt helped his boss load extra bottles of champagne, vodka, and tequila into the back of the restaurant’s van all while Greyson grumbled about Elijah.

“Fuckin’ Elijah,” Greyson said for about the fiftieth time that evening. “Why the fuck would he even mention a party if he wasn’t a thousand percent sure he wanted to ho – hh-”

Matt glanced up at his boss, who held an arm midair in anticipation. This was the real reason Greyson, who threw parties at his place at least three times a year, was pissed about having to host the work shindig: he was sick.

“Hh-! HhhITSZZH-ue!” Greyson folded over into his elbow, sniffled, and cleared his throat.

“Bless,” Matt offered, placing the rest of the alcohol into the back of the car. “Chef, I’m sure that everyone will understand if you don’t feel up to having twenty people in your apartment. There’re tons of parties right around here, why don’t you just… call it off?”

Greyson, stubborn as ever, just shook his head. “I said I’d do it. They’re already on their way.”

So Matt loaded into the van with Greyson, and Mark got in Elijah’s car with the GM while the rest of the staff hopped on the subway for the party that no one really wanted to be at. Greyson, who’d been able to keep his illness at bay for most of the shift thanks mostly to the Sudafed he kept slamming, started coming down hard the moment they began their drive to Brooklyn.

“Hh...hhITSZZH-ue! Huh-! ETSZH-ue! Fuck mbe,” Greyson muttered, using his sleeve to wipe under his nose with one hand while he drove through the busy Manhattan streets with the other.

“Um… do you want to pull over so I can drive?” Matt asked, a little more pointed than his boss was used to him being. Greyson shot his sous chef a look.

“Ndo,” he said. “I’ve got it.”

Matt was hardly a germaphobe – working in a kitchen bred that out of you pretty quickly – but he couldn’t help but cringe away with every sneeze and cough that came from his boss’s side of the car. He found himself thinking about Mark; they had plans to hang out in just a few days, plans that both of them had been forced to cancel multiple times already, and Matt could just feel Greyson’s germs making themselves at home inside his body. He really didn’t want to cancel on Mark again; he wasn’t exactly sure what they were, what he wanted them to be, or what Mark thought they were, but whatever it was, he didn’t want to fuck it up. Matt was entirely too good at fucking up a good thing.

“HRRSHH-ue!” Clearly, that one snuck up on him, because that time Greyson barely covered his mouth. Matt shrank into the door and considered pulling his shirt over his nose and mouth in a desperate attempt to keep his boss from infecting him. Greyson glanced over at Matt and coughed out a laugh.

“Sorry, kid,” he said, patting Matt’s leg, “but you’re probably already fucked.”

Eventually, they made it to Greyson’s walk-up and after what felt like an eon, they got everything inside. Elijah immediately recruited Mark to help pour champagne for everyone, and Greyson left his sous to go outside and smoke on the patio – Matt had no choice but to just start drinking.

By the time the cooks and servers made it to Greyson’s apartment, Matt was half in the bag. He floated sloppily from group to group, telling jokes and prompting everyone to take shots with him, all while keeping one eye on Mark at all times. Elijah had been keeping his liege busy; Mark was bartending, putting appetizers in the oven, picking up trash… everything except hanging out with Matt. So when he finally got to take a bathroom break, Matt threw back his tequila soda and, emboldened by liquor, followed behind him.

“Hey, it’s occ-” Mark started to say when the bathroom door opened right on his heels – but he was cut off when Matt swung him around, grabbed his face in both hands, stood on his tiptoes, and pressed his lips firmly on the other man’s.

Mark certainly wasn’t pulling away; in fact, the moment their lips touched, Mark grabbed Matt by the hips and lifted him onto Greyson’s tiny vanity to make the kiss easier on both of them. Matt pulled away for just a moment to look at Mark – his black-framed glasses were askew, his hair was wild from Matt’s hands coursing through it, and his face was flushed with lust. Matt was sure he’d never seen anyone so beautiful.

“What was that for?” Mark asked, his voice low. Matt’s face cracked into a smile.

“I haven’t gotten to spend any time with you tonight,” he said, pushing Mark’s hair away from his face. “And I’m probably gonna have to cancel our plans on Monday.”

Mark’s brows knit together, confused. “Why?” he asked. “Is this, like, a fare-thee-well, this is the last time this will happen kiss situation?”

Matt laughed, shook his head. “No,” he said, cocking his head towards the door, where the party rumbled outside. “I’m, like, 99% sure Greyson infected me with his disgusting illness on the long-ass drive over here. I wouldn’t force you to hang out with me when I’m inevitably sick.” He shrugged. “So I figured I’d sneak some time with you where I could.”

Matt didn’t wait for Mark’s response about his impending doom; he just leaned in again. This time, Mark parted his lips and slid his tongue in to meet Matt’s. Matt allowed a quiet moan to escape his lips, let his hand feel its way down to Mark’s shirt, and began unbuttoning when the door flew open once more.

“Oh!”

Greyson.

***

“Chef, I am not in the mood today.”

“Oh c’mon, if I can’t poke fun at your drunken antics then what’s even the point of living? You make fun of my drunken antics all the time.”

Matt put down his knife and gave his boss a pointed look. “Yeah, maybe for like a day after they go down, but New Year’s was three days ago. Are you planning on ever letting it go?”

Greyson shrugged as he pushed onions into a deli container and snapped the lid shut. “Probably not. I mean, it’s just too good – caught red handed in my bathroom. Like, it couldn’t have happened more perfectly if I wrote it myself.”

Matt rolled his eyes; while Greyson living for his embarrassment was annoying, it was kind of the last thing on his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about Mark – after the bathroom kiss situation went down, he’d slipped out of the party and hadn’t mentioned anything about it to Matt since. Matt assumed he wanted to put it out of his head. Maybe the kiss – both of the kisses – hadn’t felt to Mark like they did to Matt. Maybe Mark was put off by how drunk Matt had been both times. Maybe he just wasn’t into him.

All Matt knew was, he desperately wanted to talk to Mark – but despite working the same hours in the same tiny restaurant, Mark had managed to avoid him like the plague.

Speaking of which.

“HTSHH-uh! Hh! Hh’ITSHH-uh! ETZSH-ue!” Matt turned away from the food to sneeze into his shoulder, then his hand, then finally his elbow. Greyson stepped over and plucked Matt’s knife out of his hand while the younger man was compromised.

“You’ll take someone’s eye out that way,” he chastised, placing the knife on Matt’s cutting board. The sous rolled his eyes, sucked in through his nose, and trudged to the sink to wash his hands.

“I don’t want to hear it from you, Chef. You’re the fucking plague rat of this restaurant,” Matt murmured, pulling a hand down his face. This was the other issue: Matt and Mark were supposed to hang out tomorrow, but just as he predicted, Matt had been gifted the cold Greyson had on New Year’s. If Mark didn’t want to talk to him when he was healthy and just a few steps away, he certainly wouldn’t be traversing the city tomorrow to hang out with Matt when he was fever-addled and snot-ridden.

“Rude,” Greyson said, continuing his prep. “But not entirely untrue. Sorry you’re sick.”

“Whatever,” Matt grumbled, his bad mood amplified by his pounding head. “Can you just drop the bathroom situation?”

Greyson bit his cheek to keep from smiling. “I can certainly try.”

Matt knew that meant ‘no’, but he’d take what he could get. He picked his knife back up to start chopping broccoli, but almost cut himself when Mark slipped into the back kitchen.

“Chef?” he asked, prompting both Greyson and Matt’s heads to shoot up. Matt’s face flamed when Greyson swiveled his head to meet his sous’ eyes with a cheeky grin – he put his head back down, pretending to focus on his work.

“Yes, Mark, how can I assist you?” Greyson asked, wiping his hands on the towel next to his cutting board. Matt felt Mark shoot a quick glance his way; his cheeks burned with the knowledge.

“Elijah is looking for you. Says he has a question about tonight’s ten-top with the prixe fix?”

Greyson rolled his eyes, but abandoned his prep for the moment. “When doesn’t Elijah have a question about a prixe fix?” he asked to no one in particular. “I’ll go talk to him. Thanks.”

The chef exited the back kitchen, leaving a sniffling Matt and a stuck-in-place Mark in his wake. Matt was the first to break the silence – unwillingly.

“Hh-! NTSHH-uh!” The sous attempted to stifle a sneeze into his palm, but only succeeded in making a mess of himself. His face reddened impossibly deeper, and he was forced to put down his knife and head for the sink.

“Bless you,” Mark said as Matt pulled a paper towel from the dispenser and blew his nose. Matt swallowed painfully, washed his hands again, and nodded.

“Thanks,” he said, clearing his throat.

They lapsed into silence once again, neither one looking at the other. “Um,” Mark said, finally, “are you -”

“I have to get this work done,” Matt interrupted, though he couldn’t explain to even himself why he wouldn’t let Mark ask if he was okay. “Have a good shift, okay?”

Mark blinked, taken aback, but nodded. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and turned to leave the back kitchen without a word. Matt didn’t let himself watch the other man go.

***

It was like watching a train wreck.

“Matt,” Greyson called from his spot at the expo board. “Where are we at on the halibut for 63?”

Mark’s eyes darted behind the line where Matt was doubled over, coughing into the collar of his chef’s coat. The sous chef had started the evening looking very much under the weather and quite a bit worse for the wear, but now, at nine PM he looked like he was ready to keel over right there on the line. Mark bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything.

“Matt!” Greyson called again, and Matt stood, shakily, to place the likely-overcooked halibut onto its plate. He pushed it through the window and gave his boss a pointed look.

“The food has to cook, Chef, you gotta give mbe a minu – uh! ETSZCH-uhh!” Matt collapsed once again into his collar, righted himself quickly, and sucked in through his nose. “A mbinute,” he finished, his voice cracking.

“Halibut doesn’t take twenty minutes to cook, Chef,” Greyson snapped, snatching the plate from the line. “I expect my number-two to be able to keep ticket times under fifty minutes so the fucking restaurant doesn’t shut the fuck down.” Greyson handed three plates to Mark, who took them wordlessly and slunk out of the kitchen.

Mark dropped the food at its respective table, the guilt of not saying anything to Matt slowly eating away at him. He counted the tables left in the restaurant who still needed to eat – definitely more than he was hoping for. He really, really didn’t want to go back to the kitchen.

“Hey, Lij?” Mark said, approaching his boss at the host stand. Elijah was moving reservations from table to table on the iPad, configuring the remainder of the night.

“Hmm?” Elijah murmured, only half paying attention. Mark pursed his lips, weighing whether he should say anything.

Finally, he said, “Do you think you could ask Greyson to kind of… cool it with Matt? I mean, he seems like he’s really sick and Chef is like… totally berating him.”

Elijah raised an eyebrow and looked away from the iPad to meet Mark’s eyes. “You want me to ask Greyson to stop yelling at Matt… now? In the middle of service, when there are tables who have thirty-plus-minute ticket times?” The GM huffed out a laugh. “Man, Greyson told me about the whole bathroom situation, but I figured you guys were just drunk. I didn’t realize you were down so badly for him.”

Mark’s face flushed crimson; Elijah smirked at him, and turned back to the iPad. “Matt’s a big boy, Mark,” he said, not looking the floor manager in the eye. “He can handle Greyson yelling at him.”

“Yeah,” Mark muttered. “Okay.”

Mark trudged back to the kitchen to grab more food, the sound of Greyson’s frustrated voice hitting him before he could even step foot through the swinging doors.

“Order in! Two filets, two tofu, one halibut! Matt, I swear to God I had better see table twenty-six up in the next three seconds, Chef, it’s already at twenty-two minutes.”

“Yes, Chef,” Matt mumbled, barely loud enough for anyone to hear.

“I can’t hear you, Chef,” Greyson yelled back, tweezering herbs onto a dish.

“Yes, Che – ITZSHH-ue! HRETSZH-ue!” Matt ducked down below the line to sneeze, the sound painful and desperate. Mark could hear the crackling cough he was trying to hide all the way from where he was standing; his heart sunk. He wished like hell that he’d had the balls to say something – anything – to the other man this week. He wished he wasn’t such a fucking baby when it came to his feelings, or relationships, or standing up for himself or anyone else. He wished he was anyone but himself.

“Bless – Chef, do you need to switch spots with me?” Greyson asked, his voice finally softening at the sound of Matt’s coughing.

“Ndo, Chef,” Matt managed, standing. “I’mb fine. Twenty-six, up,” he said, slamming the plates onto the pass.

“Great,” Greyson mumbled. He garnished the plates and shoved them into Mark’s hands. “Twenty-six, go,” he said, not looking at the floor manager.

Mark nodded; he took the plates out into the dining room and dropped them; as he did, he made a promise to himself and, silently, to Matt: maybe there was nothing he could do or say during the shift to make Matt feel any better, but he would figure out a way, post-shift, to do something to help him. He would grow some balls, if it killed him.

While Elijah was still busy looking at reservations, Mark slipped into the bathroom and pulled out his phone. He put in a grocery order, to be picked up at ten the next morning. He typed out a text to Matt, scheduled it to send at the same time he would be picking up the groceries so he wouldn’t be able to wimp out and unschedule it. Then he put his phone back in his pocket, opened the door, and went to finish the shift.

***

His phone was ringing.

Matt groaned as he came to; he was covered in sweat, he could barely breathe, and he was stiff as a fucking board from passing out on his couch. Who the fuck was calling him? It was his one day off, could Greyson not leave him alone for one fucking day?

He grabbed the phone off the coffee table, ready to throw it across the room, when he realized the name on the screen wasn’t his boss’s.

Call from: Mark, Work.

Matt’s stomach jumped into his throat. The phone continued to ring while he squinted at the clock in the corner: ten twenty-three AM. Had he and Mark spoken last night? He could barely remember a fucking thing about the previous night, other than being utterly and completely miserable. The two of them definitely hadn’t spoken; he remembered giving Mark the cold should before service started, remembered the pitying look Mark had given him as Greyson screamed the restaurant down, remembered flying out the door the moment Greyson told him to go. They hadn’t spoken, their plans were obviously off, so why the hell was Mark calling him?

The call went to voicemail. Matt coughed into his elbow, a chesty sound that he really didn’t like, especially since he didn’t have health insurance. After a minute or so, another notification popped up: one new voicemail.

Curiosity got the better of him. Matt opened his phone and hit ‘play’.

“Hey, Matt, it’s um… it’s me. I know this is super weird, like I don’t know why I did it at this point weird, but, uh… I’m outside your building. I texted you, but now I’m realizing you’re probably asleep. Uh… I mean, if you get this I’m gonna, like, hang out out here for a bit. I brought soup! I can’t cook, so it’s from a deli, but I figured you might need something to eat, and you probably don’t want to cook since you’re sick. Your place is nice, by the way. Um. Okay. If you get this, cool, if not, I’ll uh… I’ll leave in a little bit. Okay. Bye.”

Matt felt his heart near-explode in his chest. Mark was sitting outside his building, with soup? What was this, a Hallmark movie?

He did it without thinking; he pulled up his text conversation with Mark and typed, hey, im awake. sorry I missed ur call. ill buzz you up :)

Mark was up the stairs in record time. He knocked, and Matt stood from the couch, forgetting until he was vertical that he was still in his work clothes from last night. Gross, he thought, but it was too late to change now – he took a few shaky steps towards the door and opened up.

Matt barely recognized Mark at first; he was only used to his floor-manager getup, button-downs and ties and slacks, his hair gelled back. Today, Mark wore jeans and a jean jacket over a Brighton University hoodie – did he go to college in England? - with black high-top converse. His curly hair was in his face, and he was carrying two full grocery bags. Mark smiled.

“Hey,” he said. “Can I come in?”

“Yea -” Matt attempted, not realizing his voice was completely shot until he tried to use it for the first time that day. His hand flew to his throat and he attempted to clear it, to no avail. “Shit, sorry, apparently I can’t talk,” he whispered.

Mark pursed his lips, obviously concerned. “That’s okay,” he said, stepping through the front door. He placed the bags on Matt’s tiny kitchen table and began pulling out supplies. “I come bearing gifts.”

There was the soup, like he said, but Mark also pulled out dayquil, and sudafed, and cough drops. He pulled out a box of tissues, bags of tea, and cough syrup – quite literally the whole nine yards. “I didn’t know what you had, so I figured I’d grab one of everything,” Mark said, embarrassed.

Matt didn’t know what to say. “Mark, I – hh! hhIGTSZH-uhh! Hh’TSHH-ue!” Matt crumpled into his elbow to sneeze, hard, and lapsed into a fit of coughing. Mark pushed the cold supplies towards him, smiling a bit.

“Bless you,” he said. “I’m sorry you’re so sick.”

Matt took a moment to blow his nose and uncapped the cough syrup. He chugged a bit, righted himself, and shrugged, embarrassed. “Not your fault,” he croaked. “Thank you for bringing all this.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Mark said, not looking into Matt’s eyes. “I’m really sorry for ignoring you the past few days, Matt. I… I mean, I don’t want to scare you off or anything but I haven’t really had, like, a real relationship in a long time. Like, a really long time.” He looked up, caught Matt’s red, watery eyes in his, and gave up the whole truth. “Like… ever.”

Matt nodded slowly, processing. “So… you don’t hate me?” he asked, the fever tossing to the wayside any filter he might have once had. Mark’s face colored; he laughed.

“I don’t hate you,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Like… I really don’t hate you. I – I mean, I really, really like you, Matt.”

It was Matt’s turn to flush bright red. “Even like this?” he asked, coughing into his fist. Mark smiled.

“Even like that.”

The two of them stood there, smiling twin goofy smiles, for a moment before Matt ducked once again into his elbow.

“Hh – ITSZHH-ue! Guhh.” He wiped his nose on the back of his hand, not caring how disgusting he looked. “I, umb, I really like you too, Mbark,” he said, coughing again. “Like… probably mbore than is normal or rational.”

This time, it was Matt who was caught off-guard. Before he knew what was happening, Mark had his hands on either side of Matt’s hot face and was tipping Matt’s head up to meet his. This one was different; while the first two kisses felt hungry, dangerous, this one was soft; an invitation. A promise of a future yet to come.

Matt pulled away to catch his breath. “You’ll get sick,” he muttered, eyes closed and hands around Mark’s thin frame. Mark tipped Matt’s head up, pushed his sweaty, dishwater blond hair out of his eyes, and pressed their foreheads together.

“I know,” he said, and pressed his lips against Matt’s once again.

Their third kiss – well. That was the one they would tell everyone at the wedding about.

#whiskeyswriting #snz #sickfic #snzfic #coldfic #snez #snzblr #male cold #male snz #m/m #male ocs #contagion #mess #i'd love to hear any feedback good or bad on this one bc i haven't written romance anything in a very long time lol #and idk if this sucks or not lmaooo

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Baby Let the Games Begin

I'll Write Your Name Chapter 3

Roy Kent x Latina!Popstar!Reader

5.1k words

Warnings: Language, drinking, almost-nice moments ruined by Roy being Roy

Roy slouched in his chair and looked over the lineup, trying to focus his attention on Nate and Beard’s ideas after the previous night’s match. His mind kept wandering back to the club, to the lipstick stain he’d washed off his face when he got home way past his bedtime, to the way she’d danced too close to him, to the knowing looks the guys had been giving him all morning.

As his hand absently brushed over his cheek, Dani’s smile filled the doorway. Behind him, a few guys popped their heads in, looking far too eager for an early morning that followed a late night of drinking. “Good morning, Coach!” Dani chirped.

“Hmmph.” Roy nodded in acknowledgement. “Rojas.”

The striker strolled into the office casually, as if mischief wasn’t written all over his face as he eyed his coach. “Did you have a good time last night?”

Roy shrugged. “Fuckin’ guess,” he mumbled, slouching further into his chair. “You?”

“Everyone had a great time.” Dani’s smile grew as he pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket. “In fact, someone had such a great time, she asked if I could give you this.”

The little slip of paper contained numbers- numbers that were already in Roy’s phone, actually. It took Roy a moment to comprehend the looks of awe on his players’ faces and the excitement on Dani’s. Oh, fuck, right.

“Wow.” Roy lifted his eyebrows, giving his best surprised look. “Me? You’re fucking serious?”

Dani’s face softened. “She liked you,” he teased. “It was very obvious. She could not stop smiling after you danced together!”

Roy nodded, praying he looked thrilled enough to satisfy the guys. “Yeah, no, it was fucking cool.” He cleared his throat and stuffed the phone number into a desk drawer. “Guess I’ll give her a call or some shit-”

“Morning, fellas!”

Roy’s heart skipped a beat as he watched Keeley squeeze past the guys to enter the office, wearing a little dress and that big smile of hers, the one that could knock Roy over any day of the week.

“Don’t you lot have training to get ready for?” she teased. As the guys left, all shouting out their congratulations at Roy- as if he did something worth congratulating- she turned her attention to the gruff manager. “Can we chat when you have a second?”

Roy nodded stupidly. “Yeah, yeah, of course.” He nodded to Dani, who was the last to leave. “Thanks again, Rojas. Really.”

Once Dani shot Roy an exaggerated wink and strolled back into the changing room, Keeley whipped out her mobile. “Excellent job last night, Coach.”

She perched on the desk and showed Roy her screen, which featured a photo of Roy and a certain pop princess on the dance floor, huddled close and smiling at each other. If Roy didn’t know any better, he’d think they looked like two people in the early stages of falling in love.

With a small cough into his closed fist, Roy nodded. “Yeah, well. Glad we did a good job or whatever.”

Keeley stuffed her mobile back into her pocket. “Seriously, you two look great together. I was scrolling through some of the comments, and her fans are already obsessing over you. They’ll be calling you ‘Dad’ by the end of the month.”

“Dad?” he repeated, practically spitting the word out. “Why the fuck would they call me Dad?”

“It’s a term of endearment,” Keeley explained with a playful eyeroll. “Sometimes they call her ‘Mum’, and if they like her boyfriend, they call him ‘Dad’. Trust me, you want them to call you that. It means you’ve got their approval. And once you’ve got the fans onboard, the good press will follow.” She gave Roy a friendly little punch, the small touch leaving his skin burning. “Keep up the good work, Roy-o.”

As he watched her leave, Roy sighed to himself. Dad? What the fuck had he signed himself up for?

~

“D’you want a beer?”

“Sure.” I handed April my credit card. “And bring me a hot dog or something?”

I had dragged April along to my second Richmond game, insisting that I needed someone to chat with while I was supposed to be fawning over Roy Kent. As I waited for her to return with the drinks and snacks, I tugged at the sleeves of the Richmond sweatshirt April had bought for me. This whole thing was weird, so damn weird. My siblings had texted me about the photos of me and Roy Kent at the club- which they had seen thanks to my baby brother’s Google alert on me- and had teased me about my sudden “interest” in soccer. Of course, I’d played coy and said I was just supporting Dani Rojas, that Kent and I had just danced a little, and that he seemed nice. Of course, they didn’t see the way I wrinkled my nose as I texted those things.

Suddenly missing them, I sent a selfie with the pitch behind me, joking that the Dog Track was my new home. As I hit the Send button on our group chat, rousing cheers informed me that the team was coming onto the pitch. I cheered along with everyone else, this time adding some other names to Dani’s, like Colin and Isaac. Jamie Tartt lit up when he saw me, blowing a playful kiss. I waved coolly, keeping an eye out for-

There was that smirk. Roy raised his eyebrows when he saw me, looking pleasantly surprised despite the fact that Keeley had made sure to tell him exactly where I’d be sitting. I leaned back in my seat and raised my hand in greeting, hoping my smile and wink were playful and, more importantly, caught on someone’s camera. Roy tapped two fingers to his temple, saluting me, before turning to his team. I had to give him credit for his acting; from my seat, he almost looked like he was blushing.

“You see your man?” April’s voice was full of teasing as she resumed her seat and handed me a beer.

I rolled my eyes and took a sip before taking the hot dog she offered me. “My man,” I scoffed. “He’s not my man.”

April raised her eyebrows at me. “Not yet,” she hummed quietly. She nudged me. “You two’ve got chemistry. Even at a distance, there was some sort of spark or lightning strike or whatever you want to call it when you looked at each other.” She leaned in close to whisper, “You sure there’s not a real attraction there?”

“Do I need a new assistant?” I hissed, narrowing my eyes at her. She knew I didn’t mean it; it was my way of telling her she had succeeded in getting under my skin, one of her favorite pastimes.

Sure enough, she chuckled and nudged me playfully. “I’m just saying,” she teased. “Believe me, you could do a lot worse.”

I snorted and stole one more glance at the scowling and shouting Roy Kent. “Wanna bet?”

~

Roy tapped the side of his beer as he stared at the entrance to Ola’s. The team had decided to grab some dinner together after their match, and Dani had invited his friend to join them. The guys were tittering and shooting him what he assumed were supposed to be sly looks, which he repaid with scowls and eyerolls.

Those sly looks only got worse when the door opened and Dani led two women inside. Roy watched as the Greyhounds tripped over each other to re-introduce themselves and ask how the women liked the match. She was pretty fucking affable, Roy noted as she complimented Cockburn on his game-winning goal and laughed at whatever joke Moe Bumbercatch made. He found himself wondering how someone like her, someone who smiled so easily and seemed to have no problem charming a room full of people, could wind up with a reputation like hers, known only for the men she ran around with and the drama her “friends” dragged her into.

Her eyes lit up when she spotted Roy in his huddled little corner, almost bright enough to fool him into believing she was happy to see him. She grabbed the other woman- who Roy now recognized has her personal assistant- by the hand and pulled her away from the Greyhounds, not stopping until she stood in front of Roy, all flirtation with those batting eyelashes and that coy smile.

“Great job today, Coach,” she said with a wink.

Roy leaned back, keenly aware of the eyes that had followed her to his table. “Guess I was right about you being good luck,” he hummed with what he hoped was a flirtatious grin. “Glad you came today.”

“Me too.” She tugged the other woman closer to her. “This is my assistant, April,” she introduced, as if Roy hadn’t met the woman in Keeley’s office that very first day. “April,” she murmured, eyes still on Roy, “this is Roy Kent.”

April smiled and reached out to shake Roy’s hand. “Lovely to meet you.” Her smile turned mischievous. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

A small giggle had Roy’s ears turning red. “Stop,” the popstar whined, sounding like a teenage girl. “Go find a soccer player to flirt with, alright?” She gave April a playful shove before sliding into the seat beside Roy. Her smile remained in place as she leaned in close, looking like she was flirting and murmuring soft enough for just him to hear. “You see the photos of us online?”

Roy cleared his throat and nodded, unable to look directly at her and instead choosing to stare at his beer. “Yeah. Yeah, I saw them.” He took a sip, desperate for something to keep him distracted from how fucking close she was sitting. “Looks like the plan’s working so far.”

Her little hmmph confirmed that she agreed with him. After a moment, she nudged him; Roy’s shoulder practically burned at the contact. “You should probably, I don’t fucking know, talk to me or something?” She raised her eyebrows. “We’re supposed to be into each other, remember?”

With one of his heaving sighs, Roy forced his shoulders to relax as he finally met her gaze, a gaze that was far too attentive. “You… enjoy the game?”

Fucking hell. Was this what the next six months of his life would be like? Awkward small talk with someone who was just as disinterested in him as he was in her? Being two fish in a bowl with eyes on them all the time? Tonight, at Ola’s, it was the Greyhounds; soon it would be all of Nelson Road, and all their friends and acquaintances, and the fucking paparazzi, and all the people who’d be attending her highly anticipated European tour in the summer. Not to mention the very real possibility that one of them could find someone they were actually interested in (Roy had seen the way Jamie eyed her when she walked in), and then they’d be in a whole new mess of ending the “relationship” and dealing with blurry timelines and drama.

While Roy’s mind raced, she nodded, all at ease. “I did, actually, even though I don’t watch soccer very much.” After wrinkling her nose, she paused, eyeing him carefully, as if debating her next words. “Think I could take a picture with you?”

“I’m sorry?” Roy choked out, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the sudden request.

“A picture,” she repeated slowly, a smidge of impatience dripping from her voice. “Like a selfie. I might not like soccer, but my brothers and nephews are big fans.” She took out her phone and laid it on the table. “And I learned recently that you, Roy Kent, are a pretty big fucking deal. So, if I send them a picture with you, I’ll finally be the world’s coolest sister and tía.”

Roy couldn’t help the snort that flew out of his nose. “Being one of the biggest popstars in the fucking world isn’t enough?”

She cracked a small smile. “Nope. To my brothers, I’m still just the little princess who always cried to get what she wanted.” She picked her phone back up. “So, are we taking a selfie, or do I need to get the waterworks going?”

That was… well, that was kind of funny, Roy decided. Funny enough that he didn’t argue with her, at least. Instead, he shrugged and leaned in close, reminding himself that he was supposed to look like he was interested in this woman, after all. “Take the fucking picture then,” he grumbled, mostly good-naturedly.

Almost as if she understood that this was as friendly a response as Roy Kent could give, she opened her camera. Roy was amused at the image on the screen; she had a nice smile, he admitted to himself. It was the same one he saw on album covers, the same one she offered the Greyhounds, the same one she flashed the paparazzi. Just cheesy enough to be endearing, while still holding something glamorous. Looking at the image of that smile, Roy didn’t have much choice but to give his own closed grin, coming out cool and cocky-looking, the way one would expect a retired athlete to smile with a beautiful popstar.

She quickly snapped a couple of pictures before lowering her phone, chuckling as she sent one to what Roy assumed was a family group chat. “Thanks,” she murmured, giving Roy a nod. “Like I said, they’re finally almost impressed with me.”

The gears in Roy’s head turned for a moment. “Could you send me that?” he heard himself ask. When she tilted her head at him, he cleared his throat. “My niece, she’s… a fan. And if I show her that picture, she’s going to absolutely lose her shit.”

“Anything to make a kid lose their shit.” She quickly tapped away on her mobile; Roy’s own phone buzzed a moment later. “She your only niece?” When Roy only stared at her blankly, she shrugged. “Might as well learn some shit about each other, if we’re going to be dating.”

“Right,” Roy breathed, again noting how fucking close she was sitting. “Yeah, she’s my only niece. It’s just me, my sister, and her.” After a moment, he realized she was waiting for him to ask her a question. “And you’ve got… brothers?”

She nodded, relaxing into her seat, shoulder grazing Roy’s arm. “Four brothers and a sister,” she added. “I’ve got one younger brother, everyone else is older. And I’ve got…” She counted on her fingers for a moment. “Eight nieces and nephews. My oldest niece just turned fifteen this year. We’re having her quinceañera this summer.”

“That’s the big fucking party, right? I remember Dani going back to Mexico for his cousin’s birthday, it looked like a fucking wedding.”

Her raised eyebrows looked almost impressed. “Yeah. I’m pretty excited to go home for it.” She paused, thoughtfulness crossing her face. “We’ll probably still be together,” she murmured. Her eyes were unreadable.

“Keeley’ll probably make me go then,” Roy grumbled. “Fucking hate flying all the way to the States.”

“And we’ll have to go to all the way to Los Angeles,” she added with a dry chuckle. “Eleven hours stuck on a plane together, there and back. Can you imagine anything worse?”

Roy’s eyes flittered across the restaurant to Keeley, who sat cozily with Rebecca, giggling and chattering. His chest ached, reminding him that, if Keeley asked, he’d spend twenty-four hours on a plane with this woman, no hesitation. He’d do fucking anything for Keeley.

With a sigh, he shook his head. “No,” he agreed. “I fucking can’t.”

~

“Crown and Anchor,” I mumbled to myself as I read the sign over the pub Roy had suggested we meet at. Keeley has urged us to go ahead with our first “public outing”; she’d left it up to us, but suggested something low-key enough to look real, as if we weren’t trying to catch people’s attention. After I offered to let him pick the spot, Roy had texted me the address of some pub not too far from the stadium; apparently, he’d be coming straight from work.

Sure enough, when I found him at the bar, he was wearing what I assumed was his ‘coaching uniform’: Greyhounds shirt, track pants that hugged his thighs, and sneakers. He nodded when he saw me, hand wrapped around the beer he was already half finished with.

Ignoring the stares of a small group seated at a table behind Roy, I leaned into Roy, relieved that he immediately wrapped me in a one-armed hug- a casual, friendly gesture, perfect for two people just starting a romance. He took my arm to help me onto the stool beside him and gestured to the barkeep, an older woman who eyed me carefully.

“You’re-” She stopped, raising her eyebrows at Roy. “Good for you, Roy Kent.” She leaned on the counter, offering a friendly smile. “What can I get you, love?”

I eyed Roy’s half-finished drink. “I’ll have what he’s having.”

With a smile, the barkeep quickly poured me my own beer and placed it in front of me. Roy absently tapped his glass to mine with a small clink! before taking a long drink.

“Tough day of training?” I teased before sipping my own glass; shit, would I ever get used to drinking beer that wasn’t ice-cold?

He shrugged, eyes focused on the amber liquid in his glass. “Long is more like it,” he grumbled. “Especially now that the idiots are smirking and winking at me all the time, giving me looks like they fucking know something.” Roy narrowed his eyes at me, almost playfully. “It’s all your fault, you know.”

“My apologies,” I huffed, trying not to laugh at his stony expression. My eyes landed on the darts on one end of the bar; Roy’s gaze followed.

“Want to play?” he asked, chugging the last of his beer and motioning for the barkeep to pour him another one. “Keeley said shit like playing games looks cute in photos.”

The word cute did not seem like one that should be coming out of Roy Kent’s mouth, but I ignored how humorous it sounded. “I don’t know how to play,” I admitted. “We used to have a dart board when I was a kid, but after my brother got hit in the arm, my mom made my dad take it down.”

Roy stared at me for a moment, studying me. “I could teach you.” He shrugged. “If you like.”

I glanced at the dart board. “Why the fuck not?”

With a hmmph, Roy grabbed our beers and led me over to the game, setting our drinks on a nearby table before grabbing the darts. He handed me one, careful not to let our fingers brush. “Go on,” he said, nodding to the dart board. “Want to see what I’m fucking working with.”

I stared at the dart in my hand, wincing at the embarrassment I was about to endure and preparing myself for the expletives and mockery that would surely come out of Roy Kent’s mouth. Finally, trying to reach back over twenty years in my memory to the last time I had thrown a dart, I reached back and gave what I hoped was an acceptable toss; I groaned when I saw the dart bounce off the wall far from the target and fall pathetically to the ground.

Roy retrieved the dart wordlessly and returned, mouth in a straight line as he stared at me harshly. “You’re the one that fucking hit your brother, aren’t you?”

Setting my face as expressionless as his, I folded my arms. “No comment.”

A smirk almost broke through. “Your publicist has you well-trained,” he quipped as he handed me the dart. “Better show you how it’s done before you fucking kill someone.” His eyes zeroed in on the dart in my hand for a moment before he cleared his throat. “Here, stand like this.”

Roy stood next to me, motioning for me to adjust my feet. After I mirrored his stance, he turned to stand behind me, hesitating before taking my hand, the one I held the dart in. When I turned my face to his, he was gazing at me with raised eyebrows.

“This alright?” he whispered.

I nodded, holding back the urge to gulp. “Anything for the cameras,” I joked, forcing my body to relax against his. “Get ready to trend on Twitter, Kent.”

With a hmmph, Roy pressed his chest to my back, his body warm and weirdly comfortable, and lifted my hand. “And you pull back like this,” he breathed. “And…” He moved my arm in a swift motion. “… Release.”

The dart hit the board only about an inch away from the dead center.

“Holy shit!” I squeaked, pretending I didn’t see the young couple in the corner of the pub pointing their phones in our direction. “Roy!” I jumped into his arms, acting as though learning to throw a dart was some lifelong dream.

“What the fuck are you-”

“In the corner,” I hissed in his ear. “They’re recording us. Act cute.”

Grunting, Roy wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug that lifted me off my feet, keeping his hands on my hips once he set me down. “Think you could do it on your own now?” He furrowed his brows and lowered his voice. “Or should we do that again?”

I thought for a moment. “Probably one more time,” I said quietly. “For the camera.”

“For the camera,” Roy agreed, letting me go so he could grab another dart to hand to me. “Right, so stand like before…”

Once again, his chest felt warm pressed against me, his heartbeat thumping against my back. When he took my hand in his, I observed how large his hand looked around mine, realizing I’d be holding it a lot in the coming weeks. Just like before, Roy pulled my hand back and guided it, instructing me when to let go. This time, my dart landed dead center.

In spite of myself, I turned to Roy with a giant grin. “Fucking bullseye, Kent!”

He wore a crooked smirk and held up his hand for a high-five. “Not bad,” he hummed as I slapped his palm. “Ready to try it on your own?”

Playing darts with Roy Kent wasn’t the worst way to spend an evening, I conceded. We sipped beer and took turns throwing darts, with Roy giving me pointers now that I was throwing on my own; he even admitted that I was a quick learner. In between throws, we’d glance up at the television playing soccer highlights; Roy mumbled about the men running around on the screen, telling me a bit about the players he knew, the ones he tolerated and the ones he hated. I listened carefully, realizing that, if I was going to be “dating” a soccer legend, I should know a thing or two about the game. I should also try to start calling it “football”, I thought to myself.

“Alright,” I declared after posting a photo to my Instagram, per Keeley's instructions. “I’m going to the restroom, when I get back, we play to see who’s paying the tab.”

It was the closest thing I’d seen to a full smile all night. “You’re fucking on. And I’m ordering another pint, because you’re paying.”

I rolled my eyes playfully and waved as I headed towards the restrooms. Shit, I thought to myself. I’m actually enjoying myself.

As I washed my hands before returning to the bar, I tilted my head at my reflection. Tonight was kind of fun, I admitted. Maybe, just maybe, Roy Kent and I could actually be friends. Maybe these next few months of fake-dating didn’t have to be complete torture. Maybe we’d have a good time hanging out and spending time together. Maybe-

Despite all my grumblings about this plan, I grinned at Roy as I approached him at the dartboard, where he leaned against the wall and frowned at his phone. When he didn’t look up, I cleared my throat.

“Ready to lose?” I teased.

Finally, Roy looked up at me. “Hmm?” After a moment, he shook his head and downed the rest of his beer. “I should head home,” he grumbled, slamming his glass onto the table. “Got fucking training in the morning. Early morning training with fucking Tartt.”

I glanced at my watch. “It’s only sev-”

“I said I should head home,” he repeated, wrinkling his nose. “Already paid the tab.” Without another word, he placed his hand on my lower back and steered me out of the pub, pausing only to offer a half-hearted wave to the barkeep, who smiled warmly at us on our way out the door.

“What the fuck, Kent?” I hissed as we stood on the curb in front of a giant black car. “Did something happen? I thought-”

The man growled and fished a set of keys out of his pocket. “I’m fucking old,” he muttered. “I have a bedtime on worknights. Get used to it.” He nodded to the monstrous vehicle behind him. “D’you need a ride home?”

Resisting the urge to fold my arms across my chest defiantly, I shook my head. “I can walk,” I mumbled. “Or call a car if I get sick of walking.”

“Fine.”

It felt like hours as we stared at each other, Roy’s lips parted as if he were about to speak. Finally, I nodded curtly, trying to keep my own expression relaxed, as if the man hadn’t just done a complete 180 in the time it took me to use the restroom.

“I’m going to kiss your cheek,” I whispered as I took a tiny step towards him. “Since this was a date and all.”

“Fine,” he repeated, leaning towards me.

Just like at the club, my lips brushed against his warm cheek, his beard tickling my face. I flashed him my best smile, the one I usually saved for men I actually liked.

“Goodnight, Kent,” I managed, taking a step back.

He nodded brusquely, not quite meeting my eye. “Goodnight.”

With that, he climbed into his car and drove off, leaving me on the curb with a few questions and a long walk home.

~

Roy stared at his phone as he walked into the Dog Track, as if he thought that doing so would change the Tweet that had distracted him the night before. While waiting for his “date” to return from the loo, he’d scrolled aimlessly on the app, looking for anything interesting in football news. When he saw the post with two names he knew all too well, his stomach had dropped.

He and Jamie Tartt didn’t have any sort of agreement, per se. But they both seemed to respect each other’s feelings for Keeley ever since the night they showed up on her porch and were properly scolded. The three of them had formed a close friendship, one that seemed to center mostly around doting on Phoebe and avoiding any mentions of dating and romance. Sure, Roy knew that Keeley and Jamie hung out sometimes, just like Jamie knew Roy and Keeley did the same. But seeing it online, linked with the idea of the two getting back together, had Roy gritting his teeth as he entered the already chatty changing room.

Despite knowing this conversation was better suited for a pub with some beers than their place of work- where Roy was Jamie’s boss- Roy made his way over to Jamie, who looked up at the manager with something close to awkwardness on his pretty face.

“Mornin’, Coach,” Jamie hummed.

Roy had cancelled their training that morning; Jamie was smart enough to know why.

“You two back together?” Roy’s voice was low and even. It scared Jamie and the eavesdropping Greyounds more than any shouting and swearing would.

Jamie furrowed his brows and shook his head gingerly. “’Course not.” He nodded to Roy’s phone, its screen opened to a photo of the two exes sharing a dessert. “Just friends, Coach. She had some brand deal she thought I’d be interested in, I was hungry, so we grabbed a bite. I promise, I’d tell ya if anything was going to happen.” He paused, pouting a little. “Besides, you’ve moved on, haven’t ya? Saw some photos of you two playing darts and shit.”

Oh. Fuck. Roy shrugged, praying his face was relaxed. “We’re friends,” he mumbled. “Fucking getting to know each other. That’s all.”

“In that case-” Jamie’s bravado returned, reminding Roy of the arrogant prick he’d met when Jamie first came to Richmond. His eyes were bright with teasing, and he did that stupid tongue flick that made Roy want to puke. “Put in a good word for me, yeah?”

Roy couldn’t help scoffing, telling himself it had everything to do with Jamie and nothing to do with the topic at hand. “Why the fuck d’you think she’d be interested in you?”

Tartt’s smirk widened as he winked at his obviously spying teammates. “She said it herself, didn’t she? That boyish look that I like in a man?” He gestured at his own face. “Beautiful and boyish, right here.”

Before Roy could even think, he bared his teeth at the striker, not aware of the way his fists were clenched at his sides. “Maybe she’s done with boys,” he all but spat. “Maybe she wants a real man.”

Jamie threw his hands up in surrender, eyes widening as he took in Roy’s reddening face. “Oi, Coach,” he chuckled, clearly trying to ease the tension. “I was just teasing. If you like the girl, just say so. You don’t have to go all caveman on me.”

All eyes in the changing room were on Roy, who took a step back; he hadn’t realized he was practically nose to nose with Tartt. He gave a little nod, not quite meeting the striker’s eye. “Right,” was all he could manage.

Satisfied that he had escaped another love triangle, Jamie gave Roy’s arm a friendly punch. “Now, next time you see her, could you ask about that assistant of hers? What was her name? May? April? She was fucking fit.”

Roy blinked at Jamie, barely registering what he’d just said. Instead, he sulked into his office, wondering where the fuck that little snap had come from. Probably still thinking about Jamie’s dinner with Keeley, he reasoned. That must be it. It had everything to do with Keeley and nothing to do with Jamie- or anyone else, for that matter.

Taglist: @infinetlyforgotten@ladygrey03@book-of-roses@thatonedogwithablog@misshall14@wibblywobblyvampywolfystuff@akornsworld@itswhateveripromise@purecinnamonextract@oceanncurrent@dearvoidgoodnight@hopefulromances@respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog@hotleaf-juice@emmy2811@captainorbust-blog@preciousbabypeter@shion-ah@royalestrellas @eugene-emt-roe @littleesilvia @teenwolf01 @sisinever @yagotgames @queen-of-the-downtown-scene

#roy kent i'll write your name #roy kent iwyn #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent imagine #ted lasso fanfiction

[thottybrucewayne]

A LIST OF PEOPLE WHO ARE GOING TO HELL: 2024 EDITION

Every zionist, duh, but esp yall who screenshot perfectly reasonable posts and go "Um, the look at this idiot who thinks genocide is wrong" yall make my ass itch and nobody takes you seriously, MOVE. 2. The entire U.S. government but esp Joe Biden that old ass man gettin spit roasted in hell (AND NOT THE FUN KIND!) 3. DIDDY AND EVERY SINGLE PERSON THAT PROTECTED AND DEFENDED HIM. 4. Tory Lanez whole family, his mama, his daddy, his dog? All them. 5. The nonblack people who run those Rap House Tv type blogs that are clearly trying to be shade room clones. 6. People who get all their news from the Shade Room and Whatsapp, sorry auntie, I'm sick of you tellin' me COVID can be cured by sticking cloves of garlic up my nose :/ 7. Every single one of you dirtbag leftist ass people, yall do nothing for nobody except you thousands of adoring "former nazi" fans that need to be told it's okay that they still say the n word in private. 8. N.O.R.E and every single hiphop "journalist" 9. Charlemagne Tha God and Dj Envy, they know why. 10. Everyone who made Ike and Tina jokes after Tina past away. Grow up. 11. You fanfic girlies. So many of y'all are seeing the lake of fire, But esp if you donate to ao3 or own ao3 merch. Like, that is just embarrassing. 12. It's 2024, If I see you coming up here saying shit like "Miku wroke harry potter!" or " Hello Kitty wrote Ofmed, actually" I'm sending you to hell myself. 13. Booktokers? This is yall the second year on this list, tighten the fuck up and stop being weird about strange men on the internet, now. 14. People who do LITERALLY NOTHING yet try to tell other people how to be activists. You contribute nothing to any conversation you're a part of, suck my dick from the back. 15. People who stopped masking because other people were making them feel bad. Fuck your mama not being able to see your smile, PEOPLE ARE DYING???? 16. Lana Del Ray and Taylor Swift. They know exactly what they did. 17. Every white girl on twt who tried to jump me cause I said the Barbie movie is white feminism at its finest. 18. Elon, you raggedy bitch. 19. Every single man who hit on me this year who isn't one of my friends. 20. People who don't know what transmisogyny means and make that everyone else's problem. I need yall to start reading so bad it's not even funny. 21. You "goth is a feeling" people. You gonna be "feeling" that hell fire nippin' at your ass, NEXT 22. You 35 defending fanservice of high schoolers in anime/manga all day every day...yeah, just get on down there, big fella. They waiting on you. 23. Cishet Black men on tiktok and twt who make it their life's mission to make an ass of themselves for minor ducats. You are a one-man modern-day minstrel show and you will be dealt with. 24. White Tyler The Creator fans. Y'all know what you do.

Dishonorable mentions: Shojo fans who never talk about the fucked up shit in the manga they recc you because "At least its not as misogynistic as shounen!" (yes, yes it is) Fashion tiktokkers I hate so many of you its not even funny Every person who put the image of T.D. Jakes getting his doonies beat down at a Diddy party in my mind. Like I literally never needed to think about that. My dad <3 and all my friends' dads. Patricide NOW!!!!! People who are still whining about having to boycott shut upppppp god damn. People who stare at me in public. You got a fuckin problem?????

That's a wrap! Here are the lists from last year and the year before feel free to add more in the tags <3

#thotty speaks #thotty's going to hell list 2024 #thotty rants #tw abuse mention #ask to tag

[whxre-bxby]

Idk if this is considered a request BUT GIRL WOULD YOU WRITE A HATE-FUCKING IMAGINE WITH PRAGER? my fav recom barely gets attention 😔🤞 also you write so well keep up the amazing work

nah cuz that's an amazing fuckin idea, HELL YEAH

Hate-Fucking with Prager

Recom Prager x Recom f. Y/N

Masterlist

(This is a bit shorter than usual and also not as rough as the others ones because Prager is too babygirl for mean hate sex. Turns into sweet fluff in the end)

Summary: Prager and Y/N have a silent rivalry and always annoy each other. Things take a turn when they are paired together during a mission and secrets are unvealed...

WARNINGS: SMUT, fighting, arguing, swearing, mentions of firearms, penetration, praise-kink, fluff

Word Count: 4749

It was never meant to get out of control. But I guess destiny wanted us to hate each other...

Things started during a harmless mission with the recom squad out in the forest. Quaritch had us search the area for clues of our past selves or of Sully’s presence. We were never alone when outside so he had us in groups of three. I was with Brown and Lopez. 

We had returned from about an hour's search and gathered back at the aircraft.

“How much ground did you cover?” Quaritch had asked us. The other groups answered with low numbers because everyone either reached a dead end or got stuck in one area. 

Prager’s group which consisted of him, Walker, and Ja had a higher number.

“Almost a quarter.” he said, speaking for his group. Quaritch had nodded, seeming pleased that they moved on faster than the others. Then he turned to us and I spoke up. 

“We actually managed that one quarter.” I replied, my voice feigning innocence. 

Quaritch seemed even more impressed and nodded as he wrote it down on the tablet. 

I looked over to the other team and locked eyes with Prager who was already looking at me. My sentence replayed in my head and I quickly regretted my choice of words. They demeaned his answer even though I said them without any attitude. I should have just said ‘one quarter’. 

I watched him process my words while I did the same but for some odd reason, neither of us broke the eye contact. 

“Ha, eat shit.” Lopez joked with an evil cackle, looking at Ja who rolled his eyes. They just made it seem competitive. 

Prager and I were still looking at each other and Lopez’s sentence created the idea of a competition. One that I seemingly beat Prager in. 

It was just natural from that point on to try and win against the other person. And just like that, a silent rivalry was birthed. 

From then on, everything we did we tried to do it better than the other. We rarely spoke. Prager and I always got along well but never to the point where we would have a friendly and joking conversation. We also never had a reason to dislike each other but all that changed now. 

During training, our small competition would be the most visible. 

‘Oh, Prager did 50 push-ups? I’ll do more.’ 

At the time I wasn’t even sure he knew about it. I thought that this clash was one-sided from me because it was never talked about or properly acknowledged by us. 

…It definitely wasn’t. 

Today, we were back in the forest again. We had searched the entire mission area from last time so today’s environment was new. But the mission objective stayed the same: search the area for clues or old equipment. 

Quaritch didn’t care about mixing up groups like schoolteachers would. He always paired two people when they stood together. 

We were leaving the helicopter and walking deeper into the woods before we would stop and split up. 

My mind was focusing on completely the wrong things. Prager was right behind me and we were going uphill so I was silently listening to see how heavy he was breathing, just to make sure I wasn’t worse off than him. The rivalry was still on. He was distracted too. 

That’s why when we came to a stop, it didn’t even cross my mind that Quaritch would pair us up. I was too busy forcing my breath to sound normal and not heavy. 

Then the inevitable happened and Quaritch started counting through, eventually pointing the two of us together. 

I stood there in shock for a full minute, just processing the consequences of my stupid behaviour. Prager didn’t move either but we refused to look at each other. Eventually, I walked away first and he had to follow me, so we left just like the others did. 

It’s quiet now. The forest is loud but the sound of machines and talking is gone. 

I’m walking forwards with a tracker and compass in my hands, trying to find the marked area we are supposed to cover. I can hear Prager’s heavy footsteps behind me and I definitely feel his eyes burning into the back of my head and body. However, I refuse to turn around. Because that would mean I’m reacting to him. And reactions cause more reactions which then lead to a social exchange of words. A conversation I don’t want to have. Mainly because I don’t know what I would say or how I would explain my behaviour. Perhaps he is completely oblivious to the challenge in my mind but I highly doubt it. The atmosphere that moves with us as we go is too thick for that. Something about it is making me nervous. 

“Do you know where we’re going?” I hear Prager call from somewhere behind me. My ears instantly perk up and my heartbeat speed up. 

“Yeah.” I reply, slightly turning my head over my shoulder to make it obvious I’m giving him an answer in case he can’t hear but still not an interaction enough to encourage further conversation. 

“We’ve walked past this tree already.” He said and almost immediately, his deep voice irritated me. 

Oh no he did not. 

“No, we haven’t.” I reply, speaking the words slowly and giving them some attitude. 

“Yeah, we have.” 

I roll my eyes. ‘He’s acting like a fucking child.’ I think. 

“Are you doubting my tracking skills?” I say, turning around to him and walking a few steps backwards while awaiting his reply.  My eyebrow is raised as I rest my unimpressed gaze on him.

“No, I’m just saying. We’re going the wrong way.” he answers, meeting my challenging eyes. 

“All the trees look the fucking same. I know where I’m going.” I answer, motioning to the hundreds of trees surrounding us before turning back to the front. 

“Give me the tools. I can get us there.” he says, lightly jogging up next to me. I turn away from him, holding the equipment tightly against my body and stopping in my tracks.

“No.” I reply while his hands try to grab the stuff away from me. I face away from him to protect the tools and his hands find my shoulder and waist to try and turn me around. 

“Really?” he asks, questioning my behaviour and I glare up at him. I knew if I’d give it to him he would never give it back. 

“Cut it out, I know what I’m doing.” I say, really feeling pissed off now. His hands remain on me for whatever reason and I shrug them off, flinching away from his touch. 

“If you get us lost you better tell the Colonel it’s your fault.” he says, moving his hands away and crossing them over his chest. 

I frown, not bothering to react to that. We have a mission to do and I take these things seriously, so I walk past him and push him out of my way by nudging my hand against his chest. 

Prager takes a step back and lets you lead the way again. A smile appears on his face out of amusement at your attitude, but you don’t see it. He was trying to piss you off because he liked seeing you riled up and angry. Maybe it was the height difference you too had. He was calmer and you were this little devil he had to put up with. Seeing you mad was cute to him because he just towered over you and was unaffected by whatever you wanted to do. 

I stomp away, repeating his words in a mocking whisper to myself. Those comments were completely unnecessary. If anyone will mess up this mission it will be him. Never me. 

He’s silently following me again, needing to walk a little faster because my anger is making me walk speedier. 

After about 15 minutes, I notice one of the devices showing a new light. It meant we were close. I continued following the marked area on the GPS and within minutes we were there. 

I stop, staring down at the device. Prager comes to a halt next to me. 

I chuckle. “Suck it, look who got us here on time.”

He’s scanning over the device and realises I did successfully find the area. Prager just huffed out a breath before glancing at me and then looking away. I roll my eyes again. It’s not like he’s going to congratulate me. 

We both look around and in the next second, I hear a whinny followed by grunts. Our heads shoot to where the noises came from and we quietly sneak closer. As we emerge from the trees we spot a herd of Direhorses resting and grazing on a tiny field of grass and flowers. There was a fallen over tree behind us which went almost up to our waist and I crouched down behind it while watching the animals. They were two foals in the herd. 

Prager joined me on the ground while both of us watched the Direhorses. 

“Apologise for doubting me.” I tell him. 

“I wasn’t doubting you.” he replied and I straighten my posture while I act out fake surprise. 

“Oh, you weren’t? What was all that shit about then before?” I say sarcastically. He was obviously lying. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he said, not looking at me. 

“Stop being such an ass. If anything, you’re the reason it took us longer to get here.” 

He lightly chuckled. Your attitude did amuse him. “I’d say I’m the reason we made it here because I got you out of your daydreaming.”

“What daydreaming?” I snap back at him, shouting my words in a whisper. 

“You were distracted. If I wouldn’t have said anything we wouldn’t be here right now.” 

“Pfft, yeah right.” I scoff.

“I saw you tripping on those roots. You lost balance even when the path was clear.”

“I didn’t trip on shit.” I say, facing him while I snarl my words at his unbothered figure. 

He doesn’t reply and when you look away, he grins to himself in a small victory of getting you even more mad.

“Log it into the tablet.” he said, his voice a lot quieter now. I turn to look at him again.

“Why? They’re harmless. We don’t need to warn the others.” 

“Just do it.” Prager sighed, sounding like he was losing his patience. 

“Fine.” I say, letting out an annoyed sigh as I start clicking away on the half-transparent screen. 

For a few seconds, there is just silence. But suddenly, before I can even comprehend what is happening, a loud creak erupts from above us, followed by a crash and in the next second two shots are fired. 

Before I can even look up to see what is happening, Prager reacts and in an instant, he pushes me down. The air is knocked from my lungs as I lay on the ground, wide-eyed. Prager is above me, using his arms to lock me in place. He tucks his head in and swiftly moves up so that my head is protected. 

The loud noises come to an end and a piece of metal falls from the tree above and lands on Prager, making him flinch but he doesn’t move away. 

It was small so he wasn’t hurt.  

My hands are over my chest and I’m holding onto my queue for comfort. 

I open my wincing eyes and we hear animals again. I see monkey-like creatures scatter from the tree with the old and abandoned equipment and realise that they are Prolemuris’s. They are non-aggressive, but they must have grown curious and messed around with the old parts of what once used to be a helicopter. 

A gun lands on the ground right next to us and the thud makes me flinch. Prager’s head shoots towards it and we see that it’s open and old. It must be an assault rifle from the first battle and it only had two bullets left. Now it was empty. 

Prager sighs in relief and I let my head drop down onto the ground while I clutch my face. The herd of horses would have definitely fled after that amount of noise. 

I laugh. Mainly because it helped me deal with crisis situations. Prager looks down at me, the two strands of his bandana hanging over his shoulder. 

“You’re kidding, right? It’s just the Promlemuris.” I snort, nudging his firm shoulder.

“Yeah, well I didn’t know that.” he answers, seeming a little embarrassed about his actions. 

“You should have seen your face.” I laugh, giggling beneath him while he watches me turn and roll. 

“Shut up, I saved you.” he replied and I am quiet for a second while I look for the small piece of material that fell from the tree. 

“Yeah, from this big and deadly bad boy.” I wheeze, pointing to the metal scrap. 

“How about a thank you?” he asks, clearly not amused by my mockery. 

“For being a living shield to the amazing Y/N?” I reply, looking into his eyes and biting my lip to suppress further laughter.

Prager just frowns with a light scoff and looks away.

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” I start to talk again. My hand grabs onto his shoulder as I start to try and move away from beneath him. 

Prager glances back at me, just quietly listening and watching me insult and provoke him.

“You’re too fond of yourself, just because you’re bigger and stronger than me doesn’t mean I need you up my ass all day.”

He raises an eyebrow at my words. Bigger and Stronger? That makes a smirk form on his lips.

I stop struggling beneath him and scan over his expression.

He’s just staring at me. In a way, he’s never looked at me before. It seemed different. 

I could tell he was annoyed by me to a certain extent, but even overlooking his cheeky smirk and irritated self, his eyes seemed soft. 

He wasn’t glaring you down, he was admiring you. 

“Stop smiling like an idiot.” I say, growing nervous from the eye contact so I quickly look away, hoping he won’t notice how my cheeks begin to flush. 

Oh, but Prager notices. 

“We weren’t in danger anyway.” I start rambling again, moving my arm to pull me away from beneath him. 

“You need to-” I say, struggling to move away. I manage to inch a little upwards but then Prager just moves up with me and remains hovering above me. 

“What the fuck?” I ask but he doesn’t answer. His silence is making me feel uneasy. His eyes are just fixated on mine. 

“Prager this is so stupid. Stop acting like a fucking moron and-” 

I’m cut off again but this time by something unexpected. 

Prager wanted to shut you up, so he did.

He leaned down and closer to me and before I could protest or object, he captured my lips in a kiss. It was exactly between soft and rough. 

He tried to not escalate it but it was difficult with the way you writhed under him. It was impossible to gently find your lips.

My eyes stay open in shock for a second until I surrender to the inexplicably warming feeling and kiss him back. Neither of us wanted to pull away but we did, not sure where things would go from here. 

We stared into each other's eyes and for a few seconds, the familiar silence returned. My heavy breathing caught his attention. He seemed unsure whether to continue because he didn’t want to overstep anything. 

I was so pissed at him the whole day it frustrated me and having him so close now made my stomach twist in excitement. His body was effortlessly lifted above mine and his biceps strained as he held himself up. 

“Don’t stop now you idiot.” I breathlessly say, landing my hand on the back of his head and pulling him back down to me. 

His heart flutters at the words and he would grin if he weren’t kissing you. Prager secretly loved getting you angry and he loved how bratty and mean you could be. 

The kiss is more heated this time. He gently tugs at my bottom lip with his teeth, making sure not to nip me with his fangs. I open my mouth and he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue past my lips. 

I pull him closer to me and Prager lowers his body down a little further, making it brush up against mine so that our chests were pressed together. 

I wrap my arms around his neck before they grow curious about his body and I let one roam his broad shoulders. It moves down to his chest and Prager hums appreciatively into the make-out.

I want to feel closer to him so both my hands go to his chest and I push him up, breaking the kiss.

For a few seconds, Prager seems stunned and wonders whether he did something wrong. He sees you start to hastily take off your vest and he smiles. Another secret he kept from you was that he liked the way you treated him. He knew you didn’t mean it in a bad way. But the way you would harshly push him around and tell him off whenever you felt like it was such a turn-on for him. He was obviously bigger and could easily overpower you but he adored the way you would ignore all that and boss him around. 

“Quit staring and take your stuff off.” I breathe out and Prager chuckles before listening to you. He moves off of you and on his knees above your own, undoing his vest while I discard mine close to the log. 

My hands move to my belt once my tank top and equipment is gone. Prager peeled his tight shirt off and watched me undo my belt.

“You want me?” he asked, looking at my face now. He seemed unsure of himself. I stop my movements and my eyes meet his.

“Yeah.” I simply reply as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be doing this.” 

My hands manage to unfasten the leather belt and my words are all the confirmation he needs. 

“I still hate you though.” I say while pulling my cammies down my legs. Prager helps me tug them off and a grin paints his face. 

God, he loves your attitude.

“Yeah, yeah.” he mumbles, moving down to me again and pressing our lips together. He holds himself up with one hand while the free one roams over my bare skin. I was laying down in only my brown military sports bra and underwear as I felt his large rough hand rub up and down my leg. 

Both our hands feel all over the other’s body because there is no time to sit back and stare. I hook my leg around his waist and pull it down flush against me. 

His abdomen is pressed up against mine with his cold belt buckle making my skin erupt in goosebumps as it digs into the flesh of my stomach. I move my other leg to the side and open them for him so that he can rest his hips in between. 

He groans into the kiss when I shift against him and I can feel his growing erection form in his pants. 

I don’t have the patience to wait anymore. He’s stripped me of all my patience during this mission while irritating me.

I pull away breathlessly. “Take them off.” 

His own stomach tightens with excitement at my words but he doesn’t hesitate to listen to me. His one hand easily opens his belt and I use my legs to push them down his waist to his mid-thigh. 

His boxer shorts went down with the cammies.

The next time he looked at me, his eyes were so lust-filled I knew we both needed this. His lips were parted as he stared at me. 

I adjust my position on the ground to keep myself comfortable and open my legs further. He rests his head on my shoulder while looking between us to see what I’m doing. Prager’s chest is heaving with excitement as he watches me push my panties to the side and let my legs fall open. 

I rest a leg on his waist again and gently encourage him to move closer. 

Prager listens and lowers his hips down until we’re once again pressed against each other. I let out a sigh and grasp his strong shoulders for support while he lets out an uneven breath. 

To boost his confidence and help this situation evolve, I lift my hips up and grind against him. His throbbing dick is resting right between my folds he grunts in response before getting the message and taking over.

He slowly grinds down into me, covering his length in my slick while he curls his hips to create small thrust-like motions. 

“Fuck-” I whisper, letting my eyes flutter closed. Prager needs reactions like those to feel better about what he’s doing. 

His dick was sliding between my lips and gently pressing against my clit. It made me needier for him. But that’s what I needed because I could feel how big he was. 

“Prager…” I whisper, cupping his cheek with my hand. His furrowed eyebrows in pleasure relaxed as he opened his eyes and looked at me. 

“Please- fuck me already.”

The words made him feel like he was floating in the clouds. He couldn’t believe he could get to have you now. For Prager, even during your little contest, he thought you were out of his league. The fact that you said ‘please’ made him smile to himself. 

He nodded, moving back a little and reaching down in between us. His hand lined himself up with my entrance and he felt how coated he was from you. It made him shiver in anticipation of what you would feel like around him. 

Prager gently applied pressure with the tip of his dick against your entrance and then steadied himself above you. He wanted to be close to you so he pressed his cheek against yours so that you could hear and feel each other's breath. 

Slowly, he pushed his hips forward and he felt himself start to sink into you. He took his time, relishing in the feeling of how tightly you were squeezing him. His hips really needed to thrust forward a little every few seconds to keep him in. 

I tightened my grip on his shoulder and inhaled sharply. Luckily Prager stopped moving once most of him was inside and he felt how tense I was, so he stayed still. My walls adjusted to his size and now engulfed him. 

I knew it would feel better in a few seconds for me so I nodded, tapping his shoulder and he understood. Steadily, he withdrew his hips and pulled out until only his tip was still inside me. This time, he thrust forward with slightly more power. 

My eyes were closed while I focused on the being completely filled to the brim by him but they shot open when Prager whimpered. 

I smiled, holding his head in a comforting manner while he continued his gentle penetrating strokes. 

“You’re doing so good.” I coo into his ear. Prager shivers, his ears perk and his tail swishes in excitement. He needs his praise, alright. 

“Keep going.” I whisper and he nods. 

Prager does as I say while I let my arms embrace him. I kiss his cheek while he pants against my neck. 

He’s brushing against every place I need him to inside me and my back starts to arch off the ground as pleasure soars through me. His thrusts are mixed with grinds and his abdomen presses against my clit every time he bottoms out. 

“Faster.” I breathlessly whisper. My legs tense around his waist as Prager speeds his thrusts up and I start to pull him in more every time. 

“You feel so good.” he whines and I smile, pressing myself closer to him. 

“You too, don’t stop.” I end my words with a whimper when his hips unexpectedly snap forward and slap against my skin. 

Prager takes one of my hands and intertwines our fingers before pressing it down on the ground next to my head. His loosely hung open mouth finds the bare skin of my neck and he begins to kiss and suck on the skin, making me throw my head back. 

“Fuck, Prager.” I moan and he starts losing himself in the feeling of us. He’s occasionally biting down on my skin, making sure to leave a mark while my nails leave crescent-shaped marks on the skin of his shoulders. 

“Y/N, I’m gonna-” he starts to whisper, knowing he can’t last much longer. 

“Please. Don’t stop.” I whine, holding him tighter. 

His face is now buried in the crook of my neck and his thrusts get sloppy as his high approaches. Prager’s arms tremble and his entire body tenses in preparation for his orgasm. 

I’m so close I’ll be gone in a few thrusts. My pussy clenches around him as I force my legs open even more. 

Prager moans my name into my ear and his hips stutter and start to rut into me without rhythm. 

I gasp in pleasure and the next time he bottoms out and his skin hits my clit, I throw my head back and feel my orgasm wash over me.

Your pussy clenches around Prager to the point where the suction feels like it doesn’t want to let him out. His eyes clench closed and he tightens his fingers around your connected hands as his hips mindlessly buck forward. 

“F-fuckkk-” he groans, clenching his teeth together.

In seconds, he’s cumming inside you and spilling his entire load deep into your pussy. It feels like you’re milking him for his cum and he’s more than fucking happy to give it to you. 

He rides out your orgasms, stuffing his cum further into you if even possible. 

My legs go limp after being tensed for so long and they fall from his sides. His thrusts slow down until he stills inside me and we take a few minutes to regain our breaths. 

“Holy shit.” he breathes out. I lightly chuckle and wrap my arms around his neck to pull him down. He carefully lowers himself onto me and just lays on top of me while we kill time. 

“You did so well.” I praise him, running a hand through his hair. He smiled against my skin. I knew this big boy needed to be comforted and babied. 

We were comfortably laying in silence, enjoying each other’s presence until the intercom attached to our vests which worked just as well as the one on our throats went off. 

“Prager? Y/N? Do you copy?” the voice buzzed and it was Lyle. I let out an annoyed huff. 

“Prager, Y/N, do you read? All recoms return.” 

Prager raises his head and we look at each other, not wanting to go. 

“Come on, we have to.” I say and he nods before gently getting off me. He pulls out and admires how some of his cum dribbles out of me. 

I get up and we get dressed. We needed to quickly head back and report to the Colonel. My mind was focused on the mission while Prager couldn’t stop thinking about other things.

For example how your panties would be stained with his cum now and how you would have to keep it in you for the rest of the day while you’re out here. 

The best-case scenario for him would be if one of the others would smell him on you. He knew Ja and Brown would tease him for things like not being good at talking to women. This would blow their minds. 

He also just wanted them to know that he was the only guy that had a chance with you here. 

We gathered our things and returned back. This time with much less bickering and arguing. For the first time, Prager and I were having a genuine conversation as we walked. It was nice. Who knows where this will lead us…

Tag List: @numarusworld @jatwow @number1gal @ikranwings @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

#james cameron avatar #avatar movie #avatar #avatar smut #big men #recoms #female reader #reader insert #recom squad #recom quaritch #recom prager #recom smut #recombinant #recom avatar #recom lyle wainfleet #lyle wainfleet #colonel miles quaritch #recoms x reader #avatar recoms #prager #jamie prager #avatar 2 #avatar imagine #avatar the way of water #fanfiction #avatar quaritch #avatar prager #atwow prager #prager x reader #alex prager

[effervescentdragon]

Carra whump is so underrated like I so desperately need a beat up Carra being tended to by Gnev. Bonus points if he was brawling defending Gnev’s honour.

i had a certain au in mind but that one isn't really ripe for picking in my mind, however i saw this art of yours this morning in between my slumbers and, well. i really hope you like this <3

"Gaz, lay off - lay off, shit - ow, ow, c'mon -"

"Carra, I swear to fuckin' God, shut the fuck up you baby, you brought this on ya self -"

"Youse could be a bit gentler -"

"Then move your head, I can't get to the cut and it's still fuckin' bleedin', 's not stoppin -"

"Ah, it's nothin'. Might leave a scar, though, how cool would that be, just -"

"Shut the fuck up, James!"

Jamie shuts up, because Gary actually yells at him, loud and proper. The breath he sucks in after is shaky, his lips pinched and his eyebrows furled, but when Jamie looks into his eyes, they're... they're huge, and Jamie doesn't know what that means.

"Gary?" Jamie says quietly, his burst lip opening up again. He feels it start to bleed again and he licks the iron, not wanting Gary to get even more upset. "Gary, lad, I'm -"

"Don't call me lad, I'm older than you." Gary scowls. The paper towel in his hand makes a reappearance, and Gary's touch is surprisingly gentle when he dabs against Jamie's lip.

"Not taller, though," Jamie says on reflex. He's had a growth spurt from one summer to the other in his teens, and now, at nineteen, he towers over Gary for the third year in a row.

Well, usually he towers over Gary. Not right this moment, though.

Now, he's sat on the edge of the tub in Gary's upstairs bathroom as Gary tries to deal with the mess that's Jamie's face after the fight. Gary himself hasn't been hurt; Gary hadn't even been there. He'd got to the alley just as that piece of shit John threw the final kick, and seeing Gary, him and his two friends gunned it out of there like there was no tomorrow. Gary'd screamed at them, fiery as always and fully prepared to beat up high school kids, if the furious way he was swearing was any indication, but Jamie'd tried to move and groaned in pain. That distracted Gary thoroughly and completely.

"They aren't aren't in," he explained as he half-dragged, half-carried Jamie to his Aunt's house. "They're with the kids, some camp this whole week and I came in earlier than I was supposed to. Aunt Linda left the key for me, thought I could use some alone time away from my folks on my break," he'd said. "I already hate this town and it hates me, how the fuck am I supposed to rest when the first thing I see is your arse being kicked by some kids?"

"There was three of them," Jamie had tried to protest, but Gary scowled at him and told him to shut up and sit hii ass down so he could see how badly he was hurt.

That brought them to this; Jamie sitting on the edge of the bathtub and Gary looking down at him after cleaning his face with some alcohol and gauze. Jamie's head hurts, and he's pretty sure there's something wrong with his ribs, but Gary is fretting and he is mad - maybe at Jamie, probably, he's always mad at Jamie these days - and he is so, so cute when he's all commanding and taking charge. Jamie understands why he's the captain of the Under 21s.

"Where else are you hurt?" Gary asks, his hand tracing Jamie's busted brow, as if unthinking of the action, and Jamie suddenly also understands that his adolescent crush might not have been as far away in the past as it used to be. "Tell me."

Jamie's left hand is on Gary's waist. He's acutely aware of that fact, because he grabbed onto Gary for support when Gary started cleaning his face. He wants to hold on, but he makes himself let go.

"I'm fine, leave it. You fixed me up as well as possible, and I'll be -"

"Jamie." Jamie stops, again, because Gary doesn't call him Jamie anymore, not like before, when Jamie was fourteen and Gary was seventeen and the best football player Jamie knew and a friend and larger than life. These days it's all wrong, or it feels like it's all wrong. It's Carra when he's in a good mood and James when he's mad, and Jamie doesn't know what to do with this, or with the soft little, "Please."

He looks up at Gary. He's still larger than life, somehow. His eyes are still huge and a beautiful brown colour.

"My ribs," he says, equally quietly. "That cunt got a kick in at the end, and I don't think they're broken -"

"Take off your shirt."

Jamie tries not to react, but the tone Gary uses and the words, put together... Jamie's acutely aware he's not looking at Gary and that his face feels hot as he obeys. He's slow in taking of his dirty shirt. It's red, so at least the blood doesn't show. He drops it on the floor and closes his eyes as Gary bends over, then goes on his knees in front of Jamie to better look at his ribs.

Jamie takes one look down and shuts his eyes tightly enough he sees spots playing in the darkness behind his lids.

Cold fingers press against his skin. "Does this hurt?" Jamie shakes his head, and Gary continues pressing until he finds the place that makes Jamie wince. "That's what I thought. I don't think they're broken, but ya gotta take it easy for a while."

Jamie nods. Gary's fingers are warming up on Jamie's skin. "Aye, captain," he tries to put some scorn in his tone, but he knows it all comes out wrong. He still hasn't opened his eyes.

He hears Gary shuffling and huffing. His breathing is erratic and he leans on Jamie's thigh in support as he gets up. Jamie forces himself to open his eyes.

Mistake. Gary is staring at him like he wants to see inside Jamie's mind. "Why were you fighting?" he asks. His shirt is white. There's dirt on one side, in the shape of Jamie's fingertips. Jamie knows how soft the material is, and how soft Gary's waist is under it.

"They were talkin' shit," Jamie says. It's cold in the bathroom, but he's running hot. "I couldn't let them get away with it."

Gary rolls his eyes. "You talk shit, Carra, you should know how it goes. The fuck did they say to you to make ya think it's a good idea to fight three of them?"

"There were only two when I threw the first punch," Jamie corrects, and Gary lets out a giggle.

"You're an idiot," he says, and there is a little smile in the corner of his mouth that he can't hide. "You could've got seriously hurt, and then what? You'd lose the place in the squad, you just wrote me they're letting you debut for the first team, you idiot! Nothing they said is worth missing that shot, James, I told you to keep your temper, I told you it'll get ya into trouble, and I was right, look at your face now, all busted up -"

"What, am I not handsome anymore?" Jamie grins, his lip hurting like hell but worth it to see Gary scowl again. "I'm still the handsomest bastard youse've seen -"

"Bastard is right, ya' idiot, to miss a chance because of fightin' -"

"But hadsome? Rugged, wouldn't ye say -"

"I'd said it a million times and I'mma say it again, only an idiot would risk the first team for fightin' -"

"Well I was fighting for ye honour, so catch me doing that again when all it gets me is bein' called an idiot!"

Jamie doesn't think when he says it. Him and Gary had always bantered, quick as whips both of them, and Jamie had always enjoyed it a bit too much to truly think about all the shit he's saying when he's winding Gary up.

"My - what?" Gary looks like someone's struck him. "My honour? What the fuck're you talkin' 'bout?"

Jamie says nothing. He's got nothing to say, or at least nothing that won't break something between him and Gary. It's all wrong these days, with Gary staring for United and Jamie on his way to be starting for Liverpool. There's a difference, a distance there ever since he switched from blue to red. It's not something they've ever talked about but... Jamie remembers. He remembers kids in red jerseys surrounding Gary, big kids, bigger than Gary was back then and much bigger than Jamie. He remembers the taunts and the words that his Ma told him never to repeat if he doesn't want her to wash his mouth out with soap. He remembers Gary's look when Jamie kicked the ball back to him on the playground, and how his frown disappeared when he saw his blue jersey when Jamie was eleven. He remembers the frown deepening when Jamie came to their playground in a red jersey for the first time.

"James," Gary says, and both his voice and his eyes are serious. "What did they say?"

Jamie clenches his fists. "Nothing, Gaz. Leave it alone, I didn't mean to say it, just ignore me."

Gary is still looking at him, and Jamie hates how fucking beautiful Gary's eyes are. Hates how much he likes when Gary smiles, lines appearing around them when he laughs at Jamie's stupid jokes. Hates how fragile Gary looks in the bad bathroom lights, like Jamie could break him with one word. Hates how much he wants to feel how that stupid barely-there moustache would feel against his skin. Hates how he knows they don't have that much time anymore, to fuck around with the ball every summer like they've been doing so far. Hates that he knows a darby is inevitable. Hates how he can recognize Gary's smell, even over the alcohol and the blood. Hates how much he just - wants.

Gary furrows his brows, then seems to decide on something. He lets the dirty towel fall on the floor as he steps closer between Jamie's legs, and the movement startles Jamie so much he grabs for Gary's waist with both hands this time. He swallows, grasping onto the white shirt, his breathing a lot heavier.

Gary's hand is shaking when he brings it down to trace the bruise on Jamie's cheek he can feel forming. "Jamie," Gary says, and it isn't fair, how much that one word affects him. "Jamie, were you defending me? Is that why you got hurt?"

Jamie swallows around his dry throat again. His whole body is hurting. His whole body feels like he's on fire. He can feel Gary's heat over the material of the shirt, where his fingers press down.

"I'm no prince charming," he says, stupidly, nonsensically. Gary smiles, and Jamie's startled to realise he hasn't seen that kind of smile on Gary in a while.

"No, you aren't," Gary says. His other hand rests on Jamie's shoulder. "But you're pretty charming, all ruggedly handsome, you."

Jamie tears his eyes away from Gary's lips to look into his eyes. It feels too hot in the little bathroom. Gary's fingers splay across Jamie's neck. It feels like the whole world is pausing. Jamie feels like he can't breathe. He tightens his hold on Gary's waist, maybe pulls him closer. He doesn't really know. None of this makes sense.

Turns out, he can breathe.

He takes the next breath right from Gary's lips, soft and hesitant and hotter than anything he's ever felt before. The angle is awkward but he realises he can hug Gary close and -

"- for fuck's sake Jamie, I can taste blood, I busted your lip, sorry -"

"Nah," Jamie grins, opening his eyes. "Fuck it. Bust it again," he says, and pulls Gary in.

#sooooooo #no idea what this is. i hope you enjoy it #carraville #football rpf #my writing #effervescentdragonwrites #i just think theyre both dumbasses #and should kiss abt it. so they do #this is all i did today #tell me what you think pls? ��

[legacyshenanigans]

@dreambender96 💜

I kept saying I'd do it, so here you go 🐺💚

If you ever catch me doing NSFW stuff with other characters outside of my own lore and HC, MC is single and so is he. 😌

NSFW below. Not proofread.

Rowan x MC

She sat nearby, watching him fight another poor soul in the ring at The Den, the only people that took him on were those who had a death wish, or cocky folk who THOUGHT they were good enough, it all ended the same way in the end, Rowan beat the living shit out of them. MC would admire his body as he fought, she couldn't help but bite her lip at times, his muscles, glistening with sweat, it was enough to send her over the edge everytime. He'd got done with the fool in the ring, and glanced over towards her, she smiled and gave him a little clap, he shot her a wink, baring a fang with a wide smirk before he climbed out of the ring heading towards the showers. MC started doing some things she'd needed to finish before she walked past the shower area as he was coming out in his towel.

Rowan: Hey *narrows his eyes with a grin*

MC: You did good out there today *smiles*

Rowan: Heh..Course I did..

His cheeky smile made her blush as he looked down at her, moving forward, forcing her back into a wall in the corridor they stood in, trapping her between him and bricks, his arm also leaning on the wall above her head. She found herself blushing even more with how close he was to her, her eyes traveled up his chest to meet his eyes, he bared his fangs again with a smile, knowing exactly what he was doing. This wouldn't of been the first time the two had hooked up, it had happened a number of times, nothing emotional, just sex, he was the kinda guy who knew what he wanted and got it, and she just so happend to be one of his regular picks, part of the pack. He leaned his head down, licking up the side of her neck with chuckle, MC letting out a small mewl as she then felt his teeth give her skin a little bite, he whispered in her ear, as his other hand trailed down her body, gripping at her hip.

Rowan: Get in the bathroom..

MC: *giggles* Rowan, I've got some things I need to finish.

Rowan: Yeah? Well ya can finish after I fuckin fill you up, just a quick little fuck, c'mon *deep playful chuckle*

He gave her behind a little slap, urging her towards the bathroom door, she let out another giggle as she stepped inside, no sooner had she turned to face Rowan, he grabbed her with a growl and lifted her up like she weighed nothing, she yelped from the sudden contact which made him smirk, wrapping her arm and legs around him, Rowan let his towel drop as he walked over to a wall in the bathroom, pushing her body up against it, his lips smashing onto hers in a messy aggressive makeout as one of his hands reached under her skirt, moving her underwear to the side, he smirked against he lips, then grabbing hold of his now throbbing cock, positioning it at her slit, slightly pushing his tip into her, she took in a small sharp breath her grip around him tightening.

Rowan: Are ya ready to take it? *licks his lips, grinning*

MC: Y-Yes, p-please..Hurry.

With that, Rowan grunted as he pushed himself inside of her harshly, MC cried out feeling his thick member stretching her out, the sting not lasting long before her slickness eased it.

MC: Ohh god! Mmph~

Rowan let out a low breathy chuckle, his hands gripping at her arse, sharply bumping his hips up into her. MC became a quick mess, taking his cock, with each hard stroke and groan he let out, his bucking only got faster, that wild look in his eye's that he had everytime they fucked, piercing into hers through furrowed brows.

His only goal and thought in that moment was to give her his cum. He continued to pound into her, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing in the bathroom, MC's moans became louder, as her fingers dug into the top of his back making him growl out, he brought his head forward licking at her neck again as he felt himself rising.

Rowan: *gritted teeth against her ear* Rrrgh, fffffuck..

MC clung tighter to him, knowing what was coming, Rowan gave her a few more hard bucks before biting down on neck, letting out a deep drawn-out moan into her skin, MC gasped loudly feeling his cock pumping that potent load deep inside her, the pressure of how much he cums forcing it's way down, and spluttering out of the sides, while his cock was still pushed as far as he could get inside of her.

MC: O-Oh~ mmmph~ R-Rowan~

He pulled his head back and smirked at her, his lips coming forward to give her a quick kiss before he set her down, catching his breath. He leaned against her again, his chest heaving looking down at her as she looked up at him once more, with a dirty little smile on her face, his cum trickling down her legs.

Rowan: *toothy smile* Ya definitely my favourite bitch to fuck, ya know that?

~

#rowan the wolf

[thefreakymunson]

Can you please write about reader being in a hospital and Eddie not leaving there side... maybe some angst like him fighting with your parents cause they didn't call him to tell what happened ...

Love your work btw ♥️♥️♥️

Everything was still a blur. The last thing you remembered was being on your way home from Eddie’s on a stormy night. You knew better than to speed, especially down the back roads, but you were trying to make curfew so you didn’t get in trouble. Eddie normally drove you on the stormy days but the argument you two had earlier was what made you leave.

It was a silly fight. Eddie had said something about a girl at school and you jokingly accused him of having a crush on her but deep down, you knew Eddie hated it. It was a cheap shot and you were so stupid for taking it. Of course it irritated him.

“Maybe you should just leave for the night, yeah?” Eddie snorted, “I’m not in the mood to fuckin’ argue with you.”

“I was just joking,” you frowned.

“I’m not laughing,” Eddie stared at you, “You do this shit all the time – accuse me of having a crush on another girl. Don’t you know how much I love you, Y/N? It pisses me off to hear that bullshit.”

At some point, you hit a standing patch of water, causing your car to skid and then flip three times. Thankfully someone was passing by and seen it all happen and rushed to help you. Your parents were notified and met the ambulance at the hospital but the one person you wanted to see more than anything wasn’t there. Did he know? Did your parents tell him?

Everything hurt. Your leg was fractured in two places and you had numerous cuts and bruises. Your lip was busted from the impact of the air bags and your face was starting to bruise. Maybe it was a good thing he didn’t come. You didn’t want to be seen like this.

It had been nearly three hours since you arrived and your parents were watching over you like a hawk, standing guard at your door. But all you could think about was making it right with Eddie. If you would’ve died in that crash….

The sound of shuffling sneakers filled your ears and you sat up a bit. You caught a glimpse of wild dark hair and your heart started beating faster, the monitor telling on you.

“Why didn’t you call me?’ You heard his voice, anger and sadness evident.

“Eddie-” your dad was cut off by him

“No, I know you don’t like me.” Eddie said sternly. Even though you couldn’t fully see him, you could hear the tears in his voice, “I know you think I’m a real piece of shit and she deserves better than me. I get that. But that girl is my fucking everything and I love her. Where is she?”

There was silence for a few seconds as your parents looked at each other silently.

“Let him in, please.” You called out to them.

He heard your voice and immediately was brushing past them and into your room. You knew the sight looked scary – all the blood and the IV’s. He walked over to you and cupped your face, ignoring your bloodied chi as he looked down at you.

“Jesus, Y/N.” Eddie blinked away tears as he looked down at you, “What can I do? What do you need, baby?”

“For you to not be mad at me anymore,” you whispered, voice brindled with tears of your own, “It was stupid. I know. I’m-”

He carefully leaned forward and kissed you, effectively shutting you up. His hands slid down to the side of your neck, thumb gently swiping over your jaw. Your tears fell unashamedly as he kissed you so tenderly, making sure not to hurt you but putting as much love into it as he could.

“I would’ve been here sooner,” he mumbled as he laid his forehead against yours, “But I heard from Max...nobody else told me.”

“You’re here now,” you said softly, your hand resting on the ripped knee of his jeans, “I was so scared, Eddie.”

“I bet you were, baby.” He sighed, watching as you leaned back against the bed, “I was too.”

He picked up the rag and dipped it in the warm water basin, ringing it out before he brought it up to your face and started dabbing the dried blood away from your lip. He didn’t stop until your entire face was clear of any blood, and then started working on your arms and hands.

“What all hurts?” He looked up at you as he scrubbed the back of your hands gently.

“Everything,” you smiled despite the pain, “My leg is definitely broke...my car’s totaled.”

“Fuck the car,” he snorted, “You can get another car. I can’t get another you.”

“Yeah but that just means I’ll have to hitch rides from you all the time now,” you sighed.

“I see no problem with that, baby.” Eddie smirked, “You’re never driving again...it’s too risky.”

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fluff #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson fanfic #Stranger Things #Stranger Things fanfic #Joseph Quinn #thefreakymunson #Angst

[k-evans-reads]

In Living Color

Chapter 17

Summary: When Natalie Marton, lead character designer for Buzz Lightyear, meets the voice of Buzz, Chris Evans, the sparks are undeniable. But when their work pushes them away from each other, both physically and emotionally, will the sheer differences between their worlds be enough to force them apart?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Pixar Animator OFC Natalie Marton

Word Count: 5,217

By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Warnings: Sexual content. 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI.

Previous | Main Masterlist | In Living Color Masterlist

December 31st, 2021

Chris watched Nat as she checked the temperature of the chicken, shutting the door of the oven quietly as Mark and Jamie boomed with laughter from behind them. The happy laughter in the room made Chris smile, his cheeks practically aching from how much he’d been laughing and smiling the past two days he’d been up in this cabin in the mountains of Washington. 

They’d spent Christmas on opposite coasts, with their own families back in their hometowns, before Chris, Dodger, Scott, and Scott’s partner flew to Washington to join Nat, Mark, Jamie, and Lauren at a ski town just east of Seattle, tucked away in a large rental in the snowy mountains. He’d missed Nat desperately over the holiday, despite only being separated for nearly two weeks. They’d made the decision together to spend the holiday apart, but it hadn’t made it any easier and instead had only made them a bit more attached to their phones than either anticipated that day. 

But here in Washington, surrounded by their closest group from California, they’d slipped seamlessly back together, evidenced by Chris smacking her ass as she walked by him to open another bottle of wine for everyone. He’d thought the action went unnoticed by the group in the kitchen, with Scott and Steve making a salad by the sink and Lauren handling the potatoes while Mark and Jamie sat at the island and prepped green beans, but a groan told him otherwise.  

“Are we really going to have to deal with this for the next three days?” Mark asked, rolling his eyes as he scowled at the couple. 

Chris’ brows furrowed as Nat smirked playfully at him, her hand tickling his side as she headed back over to the stove to help Lauren. “Deal with what?” Chris asked him. 

“You two being all over each other,” he clarified, waving a hand before he grabbed the pepper from the counter, grinding it over the vegetable. “I swear nobody would even be able to fit a piece of paper between you two!” 

But Nat didn’t miss a beat, even with her back turned and as she sprinkled rosemary on top of the potatoes. “Don’t be crabby just because you don’t have a new boyfriend yet,” she told him, faux-dismissively.  

Scott grinned from where they were near the large window overlooking the snow-covered trees outside, telling the group, “We’re actually spoiled by Chris being… Chris, because that means he can’t really be into PDA when we go out and do things so it saves us.” 

Jamie chuckled as he shook his head, getting up to bring the dish of green beans over to the oven. “Yeah, and at our game nights Nat is too busy trying to make up some ridiculous rule or throwing game pieces at everyone and Chris is busy trying to talk shit about everyone for them to even think about getting handsy,” he supplied, dodging a playful shove from Nat. 

Steve glanced over his shoulder as he washed his hands, pointing out, “Well they’re making up for it now.” 

“Okay in my defense, I haven’t gotten my girl in almost two weeks! Give me a fuckin’ break!” Chris told the group, holding his hands up defensively, but he smiled as the rest of the group laughed. 

Nat turned as Lauren put the potatoes and green beans into the oven, leaning the small of her back against the countertop as she crossed her arms over her chest and told the group, “And Chris is going to be ditching me come February.” 

Chris rolled his eyes, reminding her, “It’s called filming, not ditching.” 

But Nat smirked at him, shrugging her shoulders. “Same thing,” she murmured, laughing as he snaked an arm out to tickle her side. 

“You know, after how many times you ate it on the mountain today, I would have thought it’d knock the sass out of you,” he murmured, his hands stopping as Nat leaned against his side with a happy sigh just before she slipped out of his grasp to check the chicken again.

Jamie frowned, his eyes wide as he seriously told Chris, “Nothing can knock the sass out of her, trust me, we’ve seen her wipe out way worse than today.” 

Recalling that very first day that Nat had crashed into his life he chimed in, “That’s true, I do seem to remember meeting Nat for the first time seeing her slamming into a glass door.” 

He didn’t even have to see Nat as she bent over the oven to know she was rolling her eyes while defending,“I was trying to hurry and didn’t notice-” 

But Chris couldn’t help but cut her off with a playful smirk, asking, “Notice that big door right in front of you?” 

“You know what, Evans?” Nat started with a smirk, pointing the spatula in her hand at him, “If you keep this up, you’re sleeping alone tonight.” 

“By midnight you’ll be freezing and come lay on top of me so I’m not worried,” Chris shrugged with a soft laugh, moving to sit down on one of the barstools at the island.

“I still think my first meeting with Nat was more memorable,” Scott insisted as he washed his hands, turning the faucet off before turning around as he dried his hands. “I got to meet her while she stuck her head out the window of her apartment yelling that she was locked in.” 

Mark let out a loud laugh from next to him at the counter, shaking his head and insisting, “Honestly, that’s not even anything to bat an eye at. When you know Nat as long as we have, chaos is just something you come to expect.” 

“How did you all meet, anyway?” Chris piped up as he looked between the trio. Over the past almost year, he’d come to see just how close the three of them, as well as Lauren and their children were. He knew that they’d all been friends for so long and had become more like family than friends which is something he understood well, knowing just how bonded he was to some of the people in his life that he’d grown up with but Chris finally vocalized, “I think in all this time I’ve never actually heard exactly how other than you all worked together.” 

A soft laugh echoed from Lauren as she peeked in the oven to check on the food before looking over her shoulder, “Honestly Chris, I don’t know that you should get them going. You should know by now that these three have their own little language we’ll never be able to decipher.” 

A soft smile crossed his face as he looked over at Nat, running a hand through her curly hair as she noted, “It’s been so long that I don't think I even remember the first time that I met Mark.” 

“Oh I do,” Mark was adamant as he pulled everyone’s attention to him, his hands resting on the counter as he revealed, “I was helping with the onboarding orientation for the new hires. How old were you? Like early or mid 20’s?” 

Nat’s brows furrowed as she tried to recall exactly when it was, finally remembering, “I was 22 so you were 27.” 

Mark nodded, continuing the story and telling everyone, “Yeah, so anyway I’m sitting at this orientation with probably thirty or so people and in comes this curly-headed tornado who sat down right next to me and she introduced herself, told me that she thought we were going to be friends and then asked me to watch her stuff while she went to the bathroom,” he paused, shaking his head with a grin. “But I guess Nat was right because we did become friends almost immediately.” 

“Jamie, how did you get hooked up with the gruesome twosome?” Chris asked, nodding his head towards the other man in the room with a curious look on his face. 

Jamie smirked, glancing at Nat and Mark with a knowing look in his eyes. “Well I was in a different department but I had met Mark here and there but we hadn’t talked a lot. But one day on my lunch break I walked through the Pixar campus and I saw this girl sitting on a bench unzipping her backpack,” he quieted down as Mark and Nat began laughing, a smirk on his lips while Scott, Steve, and Chris’ faces turned to confusion. “I was just absentmindedly watching and saw a little squirrel hop out of her backpack and run across the grass and up into a tree.” 

Chris’ jaw dropped and his eyes widened in shock, and he turned to Nat as he incredulously asked, “You had a fucking squirrel in your backpack?!” 

“My thoughts exactly,” Jamie murmured as he sat back in the barstool, smirking at the chaos that story caused. 

Nat held her hands up in defense, waiting until the room quieted down to speak. “Okay it actually makes sense though because I saw a little squirrel in the parking garage and I was afraid he’d get killed so I just dumped some of my nuts into my backpack to lure him and then zipped it up when he climbed in and took him out to where the trees were,” she told them, then paused and shrugged. “That seems very normal to me.” 

Chris rolled his eyes as she finished speaking, insisting, “Only you would think that it’s normal to lure a squirrel into a backpack to get it to safety.” 

As the timers began beeping, Lauren grabbed oven mitts and opened the oven to pull each dish out while Nat grabbed the meat thermometer. “That’s not even the part that surprised me about that story. The part that shocked me was that Jamie chose to be friends with her after that!” Lauren laughed, waiting until Nat nodded to pull the dish of the chicken out as well. 

“I just remember making eye contact with her and laughing so hard, then Nat ran over to give me that same crazy explanation and that was that,” Jamie chuckled, grabbing the bottle of wine and salad before he headed to the table. 

“Okay Jamie wins for the most memorable first meeting with Nat,” Scott laughed as he looked around the group, helping carry food over. 

But before the conversation could roll on, Chris put a hand out as he said, “Wait, we haven’t heard Lauren’s yet!” 

“Well Jamie and I’ve been married for five years so these hooligans had already been thick as thieves for a long time,” Lauren snickered as she looked at the three outgoing artists who were bonded so tightly. She accepted Chris’ help gratefully, handing him an oven mitt so he could carry the potatoes as they headed to the table “But my first time meeting Mark and Nat was when Jamie brought me out with them one night and we walked in and Jamie pointed out that his friends were the two drunk people singing a karaoke duet up on stage.” 

At the thought of the memory, Nat hunched over behind her chair with her loud hysterical laughter, dark curls shaking as she pushed out through her adorable laughter, “The worst part is that we actually weren’t even drunk!” 

Mark was laughing just as hard, reaching a hand to point at Nat from across the table as they all sat down and he kept cracking up, arguing, “No, the worst part is that it wasn’t karaoke night!” 

With the lighthearted atmosphere in the room, Chris slipped into the empty chair next to Nat and snapped his fingers and commented with a smile, “Damn I really did think my first meeting with her was special.”  

“Yours doesn’t even make the top ten that I can think of,” Jamie shook his head. 

“It might not be the most embarrassing first meeting I’ve had, but it certainly is the most special,” Chris felt his heart soften as Nat said those words, looking at him with nothing but love in her eyes, holding his gaze for a long moment before tipping her head back as she mused, “God, I can’t believe how long it’s been since that first orientation at Pixar. I remember feeling like I was going to throw up because I was so nervous.” 

“I think I might have,” Mark laughed before he looked at his two longtime friends, asking, “Can you believe how long it’s been since we all started?” 

“I can’t believe all three of us are still there,” Jamie noted, leaning down to pet Dodger who was walking around their feet. “Although I’m pretty sure they’re going to have Nat chained to her desk from here on out so it’s not surprising she’s stuck there.” 

Unsure of the meaning behind his words, Chris tilted his head and asked, “What does that mean?” 

“Right before Christmas they assigned me to my next film already,” Nat nearly groaned as she leaned back in her chair, informing him, “I’m starting on Inside Out 2 right when we all get back from the holidays.” 

Steve piped up, wondering, “Is Lightyear even done?” 

Chris was curious, looking at Nat as she let out a soft sigh, “I’ll be fully done with it in February so I have to work on both for the next month.” 

His brows furrowed as he heard her weary words, remembering their conversation from earlier in the month as he pointed out, “That sounds kind of rough, Nattie.” 

But Nat could only shrug before Mark launched into explaining, “Nat’s just too good that they don’t ever give her a break. She always goes from one thing right into the next,” with a chuckle before he paused to serve Lauren some of the salad. “Once she showed how great she did as lead character designer for Disgust in Inside Out, they’ve just been putting her on as much as they can.” 

While grabbing her glass of wine, Nat muttered, “Apparently they just really want me to have no life ever.” 

Not wasting a chance to tease his friend, Jamie wondered, “Sorry did you ever have one? This is news to me.” 

Not missing a beat, Nat smiled at him and told him, “You can just fuck off.” 

Chris just shrugged before leaning over to bump his shoulder against hers, “After your incredible art show, I think you’re going to have to tell Pixar you can’t work as much because you’re too busy becoming a famous painter.” 

Nat shrugged, her voice quiet as she admitted to not only him, but the group as well, “With the way my schedule is going to be coming up, I’ll be lucky if I even have time to think about painting, let alone do it.” 

Chris frowned at her words and watched as Nat pushed aside her feelings and passed him the potatoes before she dug into her dinner, but throughout the evening, the thoughts lingered in his mind as they ate dinner, cleaned up, then watched a movie with everyone, celebrating with champagne as they rang in the New Year before they all trudged off to their bedrooms in the rental home.

Chris and Nat headed down to the ground floor and to the back corner, closing the door behind them with yawns and sore muscles from the long day on the slopes. The bed was inviting and empty, thanks to Dodger deciding to spend the night with Scott and Steve upstairs, and Chris flopped down on it with a sigh as Nat pulled on one of his old sweatshirts.

“Ugh, I’m so sore! Why in the world did I let you and Scott talk me into going down that huge hill?” She complained quietly, pulling her curly hair up into a messy bun before she crossed the short distance of the room to lay down on the bed with a groan. 

“That huge hill? You mean the one that the group of kids passed you on?” 

“Yeah that one,” she yawned, eyes softening as she sat up against the fluffy pillows. 

“I was trying to show you how to do it!” Chris laughed, a hand coming up to run through his hair as he plugged his phone in and set it down on the nightstand. 

Nat pulled the fuzzy blanket that was folded at the foot of the bed up tucking it around her lanky frame as she rolled her eyes and reminded him, “Yeah, while laughing at me!” 

“Well you looked pretty funny, babe,” he murmured, his hand coming to rest over the blanket on top of her knee, squeezing her leg reassuringly. 

She rolled her eyes but the fond smile playing across her lips betrayed her as she muttered, “Nice to know my boyfriend is so supportive of me.” 

“I’m supportive through my laughter,” he assured her with a grin, smirking as she shoved his shoulder lightly. He laid down on the bed fully and rolled onto his side, facing her as his voice dropped and he confessed,  “I know we’ve only been here a few days, but this has been so great. I’ve really loved this trip.” 

“Me too,” Nat agreed, her voice quiet and soft. “I really missed you over Christmas.” 

“I missed you too, Nattie. It just didn’t feel right without you,” he sighed. He thought it wouldn’t have been a big deal, being separated over the holiday. He assumed the chaos of the big family get-togethers would’ve been enough distractions for them both, but their nearly-constant contact over text and a couple phone calls throughout the day proved otherwise. It hurt more being apart than it would’ve been for him to suck it up and hop on a flight to be with her before the holidays, but he had not expected it. Most of his previous relationships had little to no expectation, especially less than a year in, when it came to spending Christmas together or alone with their families, but both he and Nat had their own reasons to be home. He was gearing up for what seemed to be a long year of work ahead both in Atlanta and abroad, with three projects and two press tours to handle, and Nat, to see her family, baby Jack, and spend time with them alone. 

But he’d missed her. He’d ached to be there with her, to have her by his side as he watched his Ma open up her gifts from everyone, to see Dodger bouncing around with his niece and nephews as they enjoyed the chaos of the morning. He wanted nothing more than to have her by his side, and he wasn’t surprised when he learned a few hours later that Nat was struggling with the same thing. That knowledge both helped and stung a little, but it built up the anticipation even more for their New Years getaway with the group in Washington, to the point that he was practically vibrating as he stepped off the charter flight to see her waiting in a rental car with Mark, Jamie, and Lauren at the airfield. 

Nat gave him a half-smile as her voice softly told him, “We’re going to have to get used to that with the year we have coming up.”

“I guess so,” he sighed, giving her a frown in return as his mind began racing with all he knew was happening that year. He was already committed to those three projects, involving long shoots in Atlanta, across the country from Nat. He knew that once work picked up post-pandemic that it would test them, but it certainly happened a lot quicker than he realized. The year flew by thanks to Nat’s role in his life, making him look forward to everyday for a new reason that he hadn’t anticipated this time last year. But with the reality being that it was about to be 2022, he realized just how long they’d been side by side, nearly inseparable for almost ten and a half months now. “I was going to ask you if you might be able to come out to Atlanta at all while I’m filming Ghosted but from what you said tonight, it sounds like you’re going to be really busy.” 

“Yeah I found out about Inside Out 2 right before Christmas break and I wanted to wait to tell you until I could see you in-person,” she sighed, frowning slightly at herself. Her hand landed on top of his where it was resting on her knee, squeezing it gently before he flipped his hand over and laced her fingers through his own, all without taking his eyes off of hers. “I was really hoping I would have a more relaxed January so we could spend a lot of time together before you leave but now I’m going to be even busier having to juggle both projects.” 

“It’s alright, baby. We’ll still get to spend time together,” he assured her, before he remembered what was on his calendar in early February and he frowned nervously. “Are you going to be able to get away to Palm Springs in February?” 

“That was on the schedule before I was assigned so I still get that time off,” Nat reassured, smiling faintly at the mention of that long weekend away. He knew what she was imagining – just them, phones off, no distractions, one last quiet weekend before the chaos of the year truly began. “I’m sure those couple weeks before I’m going to be swamped though.” 

Chris chuckled, his thumb moving back and forth mindlessly over the soft skin on the back of her hand. “I have a feeling I’ll be bringing you a lot of comfort food for lunch,” he laughed. 

“Chris, I think you should go home for a while in January,” Nat sighed, surprising him with those words. He thought they were pretty in sync, wanting to soak up any time they could before chaos broke loose and they had forced distance between them, but to hear that she didn’t want him out there with her made him – admittedly – nervous and a bit scared. “You know I love to be with you, but I know you’re going to need some time to recharge and be home for a bit before everything. And honestly, I think having you in LA that whole time would make my schedule worse because I’d feel so bad that I’m working so much and you’re there.” 

He nodded, understanding where she was coming from, but also trying to push aside those selfish feelings of even just wanting to be around her. “I want to spend as much time with you as I can, but I do think spending some time at home would be nice,” he finally began, shrugging half-heartedly. “I might head back home once you get busier but we can figure all of that out once we’re back in LA next week.” 

“Having been so busy, and knowing how busy both of us will be this next year, it feels so nice to have this time here. It feels so good to just not have to worry about any of it for a while,” she admitted, the soft happy look on her face warming Chris from the inside out. 

“It really does,” he agreed easily, his hand tightening its grasp on hers. A year ago, he hadn’t even met Nattie yet. He was at home in Massachusetts, where he’d spent the majority of 2020, doing all his work through Zoom and email and riding out the pandemic in his bubble. But now? He was happy. He was sharing his life with someone, someone he couldn’t imagine a future without, and he was excited for what this year could bring for them. “I’m so happy I get to start this new year with you, Nattie. I can’t believe that this time last year I hadn’t even met you yet.” 

“It’s weird to think that one year ago we hadn’t met and this year is so different,” she laughed, arching an eyebrow before she asked, “I wonder what next New Year’s will be like?” 

And at the mention of that, Chris couldn’t help but let his mind wander. He didn’t know what it would be like, his brain for a moment flickering to the worst possible thought as he wondered if there was a possibility they might not be together. But just as quickly as that thought came, it left, knowing deep in his heart that Nat was it for him. He knew just how deep his love for her ran and everything in his brain was looking at their relationship through the lens of them being together forever. 

He wanted everything with her. He wanted to go to bed every night next to her. Have dinner with her every night. Laugh at the same stupid jokes with her day after day. Celebrate holidays together and buy birthday gifts for their nieces and nephews. What it would be like to see Nat holding their own baby in her arms. Take their daughter or son for their first day of preschool. Come home to Nat ruining another one of his tee shirts as she painted furiously by the big windows in their home. He wanted every single moment of his life to be shared with her and he hoped that somehow next New Year’s, they’d be even closer than they were right now. 

“I don’t know what it’ll be like next year, Nattie, but I know I’ll still be so in love with you,” he murmured, his mind racing with snippets of what their future could look like. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.” 

“That’s what I’ve been saying to myself for months,” Nat chuckled, but her smile turned into a smirk as she turned to face Chris, her legs folded underneath her as she looked down at him. “How I managed to have you in my life is something I’ll never understand but I’m not going to question it. I’m so excited for this year because of knowing i’ll have you.” 

Chris pushed himself up, his hand running up and down Nat’s arm as he honestly told her, “I love you, Nattie. I love you more than I knew was possible.” 

“I love you too, baby,” she breathed, pausing to search his eyes. “You’re truly my best friend.” 

The softness in her voice and tears that were glistening in Nat’s eyes showed Chris just how honest her words were. Just as they always did, Nat’s words went straight to his heart, treasuring the fact that she considered him her best friend, because he knew that in every sense of the word, she was his. They could laugh, tease and joke around with each other, but then could switch on a dime to having the deepest and most vulnerable conversation, knowing their feelings were safe with the other person. Chris knew that Nat was always supportive of him, telling him the hard truth when he needed to hear it or helping him see his own faults in things, while validating his feelings in other moments. She helped him grow, pushed him to be better, and made him feel more loved than he ever had felt. 

Nat loved him just for him and nothing was more beautiful than that. 

Their arms came to snake around one another, pressing their bodies against each other’s warmth as their lips connected in the dim room. Chris just needed this. He needed this physical connection with her, unable to hold his deep feelings for her in and judging by the way she kissed him back, Nat felt the same exact thing. He wanted to hold her close, feeling her heartbeat as they kissed, Chris so wrapped up in the fact that Nat was his and he was her. 

There was so much love and tenderness in the air as they both slowly peeled each other out of their clothes, their warm bodies pressed together without a single inch of space between them. Chris swore it was like heaven getting to have Nattie in his arms, loving her in both words and actions and having that love returned to him. It certainly wasn’t the first time Chris had been in love, having had the opportunity to have some beautiful relationships in the past, but it had never been like this and he knew there would never be anything like this again. Nat was his world and he couldn’t imagine it any other way. 

A low moan erupted from Nat’s lips, echoing in his ear when he finally pushed inside of her, giving them each that connection they’d been longing for. Nat’s arms were wrapped around his waist, pulling him down and deeper into her with each slow and sweet snap of his hips. But Chris wasn’t in a hurry, just taking his time peppering her lips with kisses and showing her with his loving words in between each kiss. Nat’s eyes had been squeezed shut, drinking in every bit of this moment, but when those long eyelashes of hers fluttered open and looked at him with such emotion and tenderness, he felt his knees going weak at just the sight knowing that this sensitive, beautiful, kindhearted artist was looking at him that way and nobody else. 

His emotions for her were so pure and true that seeing this woman that he loved so deeply underneath him and hearing her gasp and moan while she gripped his shoulders was just too much for him to be able to handle. Chris could feel himself getting close, each thrust of his hips into her warmth bringing him closer and closer and he could tell by the way Nat was panting that she was barely hanging on too. He brought a hand down between them, rubbing his thumb against that bundle of nerves that had Nat crying out loudly as her fingertips dug into his shoulders and her walls squeezed him like a vice. 

With one more drag back against her velvety walls and push back in, Chris was groaning with pleasure into the crook of her neck as he emptied himself inside her. But as good as that high felt, it was this moment that he loved almost more than anything. This moment of holding each other close, still tucked inside her as they lazily kissed and soaked in the feeling of just being fully connected in every way. 

Nat’s hand ran up and down Chris’ bare back, nails dancing along the skin lightly, causing goosebumps to pop up in her wake. He leaned his forehead against her collarbone and kissed the skin there, wanting nothing more than to just stay here with her forever, protect her as best as he could, and get to step into their future, side-by-side, together. He wanted nothing more than to grow old with her, raise a couple kids, build a life and a home. And as he gently pulled out of her, cleaned them up, and climbed back into bed next to her, pulling her against him as she drifted asleep, he couldn’t help but think, once again, about how much this year flew by. With each passing day, their anniversary approached, and it put them one step closer to forever. 

A/N: Thank you so much for reading!

#in living color #chris evans story #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #original female character #chris evans ff #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans fic #real person fiction #real person fanfiction #chris evans writing #chris evans x oc #chris evans x original character #original character #original content #chris evans x original female character #writing #story #real life chris evans #rpf #ofc #pixar au #chris evans x smut #chris evans fluff #chris evans imagine #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #cevans

[finniestoncrane]

Hello. I am here to request Yandere Ozzie being overprotective of his sweet princess 🗣️ Perhaps she is kidnapped by someone in hopes of extorting Oswald and get more than a pretty penny out of him but him being the perfect man he is does not lose a single cent and gets his baby back but not before beating the crap out of the kidnappers for hurting her. Thank you and have a great day, friend 🫂

Rescue Me

Farrell!Penguin x Female!Reader, word count: 1.2k what if i did that but made it two parts and i am incredibly slow at getting to the conclusion of things and i'm also very sorry about it anon but you should know that already because this request is from october (i am so sorry i knew this prompt was good so it needed to have justice done to it) 🥴💜🐧 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: angst, threats, kidnapping, sad ozzie boo ;-;

“Uh huh. Sure. Uh-huh. And just so I know I’ve given you the benefit of the doubt, because I’m a nice guy. You know who you’re talking to here, huh?”

Two goons on either side of the office door watched Oswald as he tapped his fingers casually on his desk. He held the phone to his right ear, listening patiently. One of the men who watched had answered. Taken the brief message, and then followed the instructions.

“We’ve got your boss’ girl. We’re looking to exchange her for a reasonable sum, given that she’s tainted goods. You taking all of this down? Ok, go hand the phone to your boss and tell him we want to speak to him.”

“Oh, is that so? Ok. That’s all fine on my end. I’ll bring the money. You bring my girl. We’ll see how smooth things go. You better not waste my fuckin’ time neither.”

Oswald hung up the call, rubbing his face in his palms before he tossed the phone against the wall. He got up from his desk, grabbing his long leather jacket from the coat stand. A cigar, the metal briefcase from the safe in the closet, his own cell phone, and a handgun. That was all he was taking with him.

“You’re going personally, boss?”

“Course I am! And don’t neither of you two clowns follow me. I’m going alone.”

Brushing past them on his way out of the door, Oswald felt calm, collected, but he took a deep breath in before he started his car and began heading to the meeting point. He drove fast, but not fast enough that any cops would bother to interfere. He wanted to get there safe and sound, as quickly as possible. Your life wasn’t in danger, no one was that stupid, but he was still worried.

Pulling up to the farthest end of the docks, territory he felt safe in, Falcone’s territory at that, he noticed another car with dimmed headlights. With an air of confidence he didn’t need to muster up, he got out of his own vehicle, walking steadily towards them, making a concerted effort to conceal his limp as best as he could. He worried it made him look weak, like an easier target. Like he could be toppled over much easier than was likely.

A voice from the shadows, calling out to him. One he only recognised from the phone call, unable to place it to anyone he knew, or knew of.

“You actually came alone?”

“What can I say, I’m a man of my word.”

“Seems risky.”

“Should I be worried? This is business, chief. And I’d like to get on with it.”

“Not much for small talk, hm? What difference does it make how quick we commence the business? The damage has been done.”

Oswald narrowed his eyes, taking another step forward, hand reaching for his pocket, ready to grab his gun if need be.

“Listen, business is business. I’m a busy guy. I know how this shit goes. But I swear to you, if you touched a single hair on her body I will take everything you have and everyone you have ever loved.”

“Relax, Penguin.”

He flinched at the word. Fingers relaxing and tensing by his side.

“Toss the money over and you can have her. In exactly the same condition she was in when we brought her here.”

The briefcase landed with a metallic clunk on the ground, bouncing slightly before settling askew on the wet ground. The stranger took a few steps towards it, stopping when Oswald shouted out over the short distance between them.

“Don’t you touch that thing with your filthy funckin’ hands until I’ve seen her.”

Hands up, displaying his intentions, the stranger clicked his fingers and summoned two men from the vehicle, who dragged out another figure from the back seat. Clad in a large, ill-fitting stained shirt, no shoes, and with a bag over their head, they were walked over to the stranger who pushed them forwards, sending them stumbling into Oswald’s arms. He brought them in close, holding them behind him.

“Hey, you’re ok now, just keep quiet and follow my lead, kid.”

The stranger clicked open the briefcase, scoffing as they realised that there was nothing inside. But by the time he had glanced up towards Oswald, he was met with the handgun pointing at him.

“Shameful tactics, Oswald.”

“This isn’t my girl.”

Shaking his head, the stranger smiled, standing up slowly as Oswald traced his movements with the gun.

“Of course it isn’t. Looks like we both came up short on our ends of the bargain.”

“You bring her to me, or I swear to god!”

Oswald was shouting now, his voice breaking as he tried to conceal the raw emotion. Fear, rage, a deep sorrow, panic and worry.

“How about this time, you come to us. You bring the money to my warehouse, and we’ll give you what you want this time. Promise.”

He winked, a cruel grin briefly flashing over his up until now bland and neutral face.

“I don’t even know who you are or where you operate from. How am I supposed to find you?”

“Think of a way. You’ve got twenty-four hours.”

As he walked to the car, entering it as his men held the door open for him, he called back.

“And don’t worry about it, you’ll know who I am soon enough. Everyone will.”

As their car sped away, Oswald turned his attentions to the figure behind him. Peeling the bag slowly from her head, he stood back, giving her enough space to get accustomed to her surroundings. It didn’t take long, and before he knew it she had her arms around him, thanking him, sobbing into his jacket.

“It’s ok, hey. You’re fine. I recognise you, kid. You one of my dancers?”

“Y-yeah Mister Cobblepot, sir. I… I was coming out of work with your-”

“They took her too? You saw her!? You gotta let me know if they hurt her, ok?”

“They didn’t hurt none of us, she’s ok. Just… scared Mister Cobblepot. We all were.”

Sighing, trying to hold back the tears in a bid to remain the safe space for the girl he now held in the freezing cold, Oswald tried to think on his feet, willing his brain to move past the initial flurry of pain and anxiety that flooded him.

“Listen, sweetheart. I’ll get you home. We’ll make sure you’re safe, ok? I’ll get one of my guys on your door and he’ll stick with you till we have this creep dealt with. But you gotta help me. You think you can do that?”

“A-anything, Mister Cobblepot. I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me, kid. But I need to know where you were. Anything you can tell me.”

She started to speak but he silenced her with a gesture.

“Not right now, you need to be warm, safe, before you even think about doing anything else. You need a drink. We’ll go back to the club, ok?”

Nodding quietly, sniffling back some tears, Oswald’s new ward got into the back seat of the car, resting her head against the window as Oswald drove back to the club to formulate his plan.

Everyone would know who this stranger was. He’d be the guy that Oswald Cobblepot strung up in pieces across Gotham. They idiot who crossed the wrong man.

#finnie writes #penguin x you #oswald cobblepot #the penguin #batman fanfic #the batman 2022 #colin farrell penguin #oswald cobblepot x reader #oswald cobblepot x you