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etheries1015 · 4 months

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I had sort of a crack idea of what would the non-human twst boys do if their crush or s/o was allergic to them? Savanaclaw and Octonivelle with like the fur allergy and seafood allergy. Maybe diasomnia’s s/o has some sort of fairy allergy? Sorry if this is too silly for you to write, it’s alright if you don’t 😭

I LOVE THIS BECAUSE I'VE HAD A SIMILAR THOUGHT i'm allergic to cats and i'm like...man what am I gonna do around Grim BUAHAHA...this is a great idea. Nothing is too silly to write my friend!

Non-human Twst boys reacting to a S/O who is allergic to them!

featuring: Savanaclaw and Octavinelle!

general warnings: gender neutral reader, not really proof read \

TW: None! just fluff. and allergies.

Leona

The first time you sneezed around him, they didn't know it was literally BECAUSE of him. This was until you two took a nap together for the first time, and when you woke up he saw your face...Oh, brother. Your eyes were puffy and red, congested, and your nose leaked like nobody's business. He genuinely felt bad about this, but wouldn't let you in on his true feelings/emotions. Without understanding the cause (though he had an inkling) he immediately took you to the doctor.

"They're allergic to me? What kind of shitty nonsense is that?!"

Leona invested in the most expensive of healthcare for you. Allergy pills and whatnot, because he wasn't about to sacrifice his lovely naps with his significant other. No amount of allergy is gonna stop him from getting what he wants, and that is your affection.

Ruggie

"Sooo...basically you're saying you're allergic to me? Cause' im part heyena?"

"It's a little more complicated than that. It's more like...animal dander? I guess?" You didn't seem to certain in your answer either, it was more or less a guess since...well, there wasn't half beast half human where you are from. You can only make an educated guess on why you're so allergic to him based off of the information you had back at home.

Ruggie is honestly so sad about this. He can't afford to get you any treatments or medical help with this, so you two just have to be careful. He does manage to get his hands on some special washing products (probably legally) and takes extra care of what he eats, and how clean he his. He's consistently brushing his hair and cleaning his ears.

"Man i'm such a simp. What's wrong with me?!" ...He isn't used to bending backward for people. But seeing you so sick around him, hurt him even more than his pride, so he of course would do anything to make sure you're as comfortable around him as possible. Ahh...the power of love <3

Jack

He gives me the "I must stay away from you for your own good," Type. Although this doesn't last very long. Jack is incredibly loyal, and he's far too attached to let you go. There's times where he would try and keep a distance (much to your annoyance), but when you began sneezing and itching your eyes you knew he was somewhere nearby. Jack is protective like that, but it pains his heart to see you so sick because of something he cannot control.

He does both a mix of what Ruggie and Leona does. He took up extra part-time jobs to afford good allergy medication for you, the entire works. Pills, eye drops, nasal sprays, breathing treatments...He also invests in high-quality shampoo and conditioner to help rid of his dander and hopefully reduce the amount of shedding he has.

With the amount of hair Jack has, he is CONSTANTLY brushing it and it is CONSTANTLY shedding. He does EVERYTHING under the sun to control this, all for you. Although... this is a partnership! You told him that a relationship goes two ways. You love him regardless of how itchy you may get, and you equally chip in to problem-solve.

You're both loyal to each other until the very end, no matter what trivial matters may get in your way <3

Azul

He knew before you two started dating that you had a severe allergy to seafood, so he made it a point to avoid you. But...that didn't stop YOU from coming to HIM. It was one of the things that drew him towards you, the way even though you were gaining a rash you would still wrap your arms around the back of him. Although it wasn't as bad in his human form, he was always terrified what would happen if he were to unleash his original form.

But worry not! We are talking about the literal king of potionology. He finds a remedy very quickly, and you trust him...a little too fast. He is astonished when he says;

"Take this...the second you drink this your allergies will be something of the past. But be warned-" You grabbed it out of his hand and chugged it. He stared at you with his jaw slacked open, his face turning a deep shade of hot red when you throw yourself onto Azul and place a big fat kiss against his cheek.

He imploded. But hey! his potion worked! He tried to get you to give him some sort of paypack, but you mentioned that your form of payment was in that kiss.

He now demands kisses every time he makes the potion for you <3 It's kind of a silent agreement. He just stares at you after you're done drinking it, and whenever you feign ignorance the point upon his lips is far too obvious.

Jade

The first time you broke out in hives, he remained completely calm. Jade is rather smart, and he understands your allergy must be because of his disposition as a mer-folk. Although in human form, he couldn't help but notice the way you would hide your rashes either behind makeup or by bulking clothing. He was amused by this for a moment, but when he saw it worsen he couldn't help but become worried.

"Why would you go so far for me? what do you gain by allowing yourself to become sick?" When you replied with a blush that you simply liked Jade, thus his shock soon turned into action. He excused himself for a few days to climb mountains and collect the most effective of flowers and medicinal remedies for allergies and put together a potion that you were able to take to alleviate your symptoms.

He isn't the vice house warden for nothing! His talents and magic prowess truly aided him, albeit in a way that was seemingly selfish. It was all worth it for you, though.

But he does use you as an example during a class project in potionology, having you stand up in front of the class while he compares your allergies before and after taking the potion.

He got a 100% in the project. And a Significant other. A win-win for everyone!

Floyd

Floyd is much smarter than he lets on. The moment he hugs you from behind and touches your arm, he notices the rash right away. He eyed it with a frown, and without saying anything he let go of you much to your dismay, leaving you to your lonesome for a few days on end.

You had to admit you missed Floyd, his silly jokes and way of talking, his unpredictable personality, and the attention he would often give y you. While sitting at the table during a free period, your head was propped up against your hand and a sad sigh escaping your lips.

"Ehhhh? Why is shrimpy sitting here all alone? Didya miss me?" A familiar voice teased as arms wrapped around you and something akin to a vegetable drink set in front of you. You gasped and smile up at the tall male, who wasn't wrapping his arms around you as you were used to, typically ignoring the itching of your rashes. He convinced you to drink what he sat in front of you, and although you eyed it with suspicion, you sighed and drank it in one gulp and tightly shut eyes.

Nothing happened. You turned to look over at Floyd, about to question the purpose of making you drink the (surprisingly tasty) smoothie-like liquid but were quickly interrupted by lips pressing against your own.

The kiss caught you off guard and you began to panic, talking about your allergy...before you realized that nothing was happening. No rash, no itchiness, nothing.

"Seeeee? It's a potion. I made Azul make it for me. Now I can touch you as much as I want," He smiled proudly. However he managed to convince Azul would forever be beyond you...

He forgets to give you the potion sometimes, only when you two are cuddling and a rash or itching pops up do the both of you realize it's time for a dose.

Ya'll are so silly for each other <3

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #octavinelle x reader #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #ruggie bucchi #jack howl #jack howl x reader #twisted wonderland headcannons #twst headcannons #leona x reader

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f1byjessie · 3 months

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A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part two.

Friday evenings are typically spent in the comfort of your flat. Normally, you’re half paying attention to reruns of whatever shitty reality TV happens to be on and half scrolling through social media to keep up with the ever-fluctuating trends of content as per your job requirements, all the while eating your body’s weight in takeaway. It’s not the dream, but it’s certainly a dream.

Tonight, you plan on amending things to include going through the pictures of Bali’s stunning beaches that Lando’s been spamming you with throughout the day, but beyond that, you have no intentions of deviating further from your norm.

You’re actually really looking forward to it. Though you’d rather cut off your own hand than admit it to his face and give him new ammunitions to tease you with, you miss Lando during the winter breaks. So much of your year is spent having him nearby━ a near-constant presence buzzing with the inability to slow down let alone stop━ and when he isn’t around, the silence seems louder. There’s no one else who manages to annoy you the way he does, and it’s just not the same without him.

To make matters worse, between your new job, Lando’s travels, and the scheduling conflicts that have arisen in turn, you haven’t had a chance to catch up with him beyond a few back-and-forth messages about his current escapades. So you really, genuinely, truly are looking forward to it.

Garrett Ward throws a wrench into things.

You have mixed opinions of Garrett. He can be very sweet, and he’s gone out of his way to make you feel incredibly welcome in your first week with the Manchester City team. He makes good conversation and seems genuinely interested in what it is you’re doing, often asking questions about your equipment and process, which is a nice change of pace from most other clients you’ve worked with in the past who rarely give two shits about anything beyond the final product. But his reputation is… concerning.

Garrett Ward is infamous in English tabloids for being a notorious womanizer.

There are several articles that come to mind, but the most damning of which is from 2019, before his trade to Manchester City, detailing with very incriminating photos how he’d been seen entering a club with two women and then leaving just a few hours later with a completely different pair. You don’t want to assume he’s the same man now as he was back then, nearly a full five years ago, but you’ve been working in the sports industry long enough to know that athletes can have anyone and if they want then they will have anyone━ there is no shortage of temptation.

And you are not arrogant enough to assume you would be the outlier.

Which makes his interest in you feel less like friendly curiosity and more like something you need to be wary of.

It’s also why━ as you make the trek through the Etihad Campus car park━ you feel dread begin to pool in your stomach as you answer your ringing phone. “Hi, Garrett.”

“Y/N!” He exclaims excitedly, sounding like he hadn’t just seen you barely ten minutes ago in the weight room. “I meant to catch you before you left, but you were outta there so fast I wasn’t able to.”

And there’s probably a reason for that, you want to say, but you hold your tongue. “Yeah, I usually try to be pretty quick about it.”

There’s an awkward pause left open as if he expects you to say more, and when you don’t he clears his throat. “Erm, well, I was actually just calling to see if, perhaps, you would like to grab dinner with me this evening.”

You don’t. At all. It’s one of the last things you would like to do. There are plenty of other hellish things you would willingly rather subject yourself to before sitting down and sharing a private meal with this man━ jumping into the Thames is one of them, and letting Lando drive you around on the autobahn in his Spider is another. Both could very easily result in death, permanent disfigurement, or any other number of horrible outcomes, but neither includes Garrett.

Your hesitating silence must be an answer enough for him, because he chuckles again and adds on quickly, “No strings attached, I promise. It’ll just be two friends getting dinner.”

All you want to do is get cozy on your couch in your pajamas with a kebab from the place down the street and watch pretty people deal with their pretty people problems on TV. You don’t think that’s too much to ask for, but apparently, some higher power does.

“I suppose that’d be alright then,” you agree tentatively, speeding through the stages of grief as you mourn the initial plans of your Friday evening━ the easy, simple, comfortable plans. “Shoot me a message with the time and place and I’ll meet you there.”

“Awesome!” Garrett cheers. “See you later then.”

The peaceful silence that awaits you after you hang up feels like it’s mocking you. Too bad you can’t flip off silence.

“Look, the truth is, City is looking at trading me at the end of the season if I can’t clean my act up.” Garrett’s voice is quiet as he admits the reality of his future to you, but it breaks the silence of the world around you like a gunshot. “And not just loaning me out━” he adds, a twinge of something akin to anger noting his tone, “━but fully trading me. They’re saying that my image makes things too hard for them and the only way they’ll consider re-signing me is if I can either keep my name out of the tabloids or try to clean myself up.”

In Garrett’s defense, he technically did hold true to his promise of just two friends getting dinner. Things were actually going quite well, too. The restaurant was a little more high profile than you would’ve expected for a casual meal, but that can easily be passed off as the luxurious lifestyle and expensive tastes of a pro athlete who can certainly afford it. Expenses of your meal aside, he’d been good company, asking after the ways of working in Formula One and then finding similarities in his football career that made it easy to chat about the struggles and stressors of professional sports.

But you can recognize that this is where it’s all beginning to go downhill.

He’s announced it completely out of the blue as you’re walking back to the garage where you’ve both parked your cars. On top of that, his pace slows and you’re forced to slow down as well to match it until you both eventually come to a halt in the middle of the pavement.

You feel for him, in all honesty. You understand the difficulties of contract negotiations and how easily they can fall apart. The fragility of Formula One contracts is its own special brand of tricky and you’ve seen many friends move on to other teams in the blink of an eye just as they’ve begun to settle down and make their mark where they are. You can’t say for certainty that you understand the mechanics of football contracts to the same degree, but you can imagine they have their own fragile fine print.

But the chill of a January night in Manchester is brutal, and you’ll be the first to admit that your outfit does not protect against it. You don’t really want to be having this conversation in general, because you’ve known Garrett for all of a week which makes you acquaintances at best, but you especially don’t want to be having it now, out here in the cold when all you want to do━ all you’ve wanted to do since this afternoon━ is curl up in something warm and comfortable and pretend the world outside your flat doesn’t exist for a few days.

“I’m not sure what this has to do with me if I’m being honest, Garrett.”

He shrugs. “I just thought you might be able to help.”

You shove your hands in your pockets in a desperate attempt to keep your fingers from going more numb than they already are and shake your head at him. “I don’t know how exactly you think I can help you with that. I’m a photographer, not a PR officer.”

“My agent thinks it would be a good idea if I showed the media that I could hold down a steady relationship. Prove to them that I’ve changed my ways, and have matured.” He shrugs again, nonchalant despite being the one to bring this up in the first place.

“Have you?”

He makes a face, something between a flirty smirk and a suggestive wink, “Well, I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Garrett.”

“Look,” he crosses his arms and levels you with a look that fills you simultaneously with more rage and annoyance than a single person has ever made you feel before. “It would just be for a couple of months, and then we could stage an amicable breakup and that would be that! It just has to be long enough to show everyone that I’m not the same as I used to be.”

You give him a look right back, hoping it conveys how appalled you are by his audacity. “Okay, but why me of all people? Christ knows you probably have a list of women in your contacts who would jump at the chance to pretend to date you for a few months.”

His face pinches up in disgust. “Yeah, but they’re all former hookups, and I mean, they’re kinda psycho about me to be fair. If I tried to end things, they’d probably go to the tabloids themselves and smear my name with the worst things they could come up with.” He shrugs again, and you’re starting to find that you hate it when he does so. “I need someone willing to just play along for the time being and who will be discreet when things are over.”

“And you think I’m that person?” You scoff. “You’ve known me for a week!”

Your voice echoes and it reminds you once again that you’re having this conversation in the middle of a random street in Manchester. It’s cold and dark, and you’ve been attempting to bite back your frustration since the moment Garrett called you. You’ve been as nice as you possibly can be for this man, shy of bending over backward to worship the very ground he walks on, and you’re so close to your limit that you think if he shrugs one more fucking time━

He shrugs. “Well, yeah, but you know how this industry works. So I know you can be trusted.”

You take a deep breath to try and retain what’s left of your quickly slipping composure, before you say, “Garrett, this goes beyond unprofessional. I could potentially get into a lot of trouble for this. You’re technically my co-worker, if not my client by proxy. It’s not a good look for me to be getting with the athletes I work with, considering my entire career is based on working with athletes.”

He makes a befuddled face as if asking what that has to do with anything. It occurs to you that he’s probably never had to worry about the ethics of hooking up with someone when most of the women who are interested in him would do everything in their power to spend a night by his side whether it’s morally just━ or legal, for that matter━ or not.

“That doesn’t seem to stop you from being all cozy with that Nor-whatever guy,” he grumbles.

“What?”

“That driver,” he repeats. “You post him all over your socials, like, all the time.”

You tear your hands from your pockets and throw them up in the air, “Because that’s my job?!” The stupidity of the man before you is genuinely baffling. He’s been asking about your job all week long but the way he’s talking now makes it seem like he didn’t catch onto the fact that your entire career is centered around media and the creation of content made with the explicit intention of being shared.

“I am quite literally paid to take and post pictures of him per my contract with McLaren,” you continue. “And even if I wasn’t, he’s my best friend?! I’ve been working and traveling and spending the majority of my time with Lando since 2019 so of course I’m going to be close with him. Do you not post your mates every once in a while?”

“Yeah, but it’s different. All my mates are guys, so nobody thinks I’m dating any of them when I do it.”

You scoff in disbelief. “I cannot believe this right now. You know, for a moment, I briefly considered helping you. But you’re actually exactly the type of prick the tabloids say you are.”

He takes an intimidating step closer, and his voice drops an octave lower. “I would reconsider if I was you.” You’re not short, but Garrett isn’t either. He’s one of the tallest players on the Manchester City team, and the way you feel now with him staring you down makes you wonder if this is what it feels like to be his opponent on the pitch.

It’s fucking terrifying.

But you’re fucking livid, too.

Your jaw clenches and you bite out sharply, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“What it means,” he starts, “is that if you don’t help me, maybe I slip a word about something or other to my boss who slips a word to his boss who is, also, your boss, and suddenly, whoops!” He gives you a cocky smirk, so sure of himself that it makes you feel like your blood is literally boiling. “He’s not your boss anymore. In fact, nobody is your boss anymore, because your ‘slip in conduct’ was very inappropriate and made several players uncomfortable, which doesn’t look very good when trying to get jobs elsewhere in the industry.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Well,” he fucking shrugs. “When you say it like that, yeah. I guess I am.”

You cross your arms, your hands clenched into fists so tightly that you can feel your nails digging painfully into the flesh of your palms. “You’re a real bastard, you know.”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that, love.”

If only it were legal to kill a man━ Garrett Ward would be six feet under and picking worms from between his teeth.

You weigh your options, though. You’re not sure how much weight his word actually carries. For all you know, he could tell his boss, they could bring you in to discuss things, and then you could explain it all from your point of view. Garrett is a notorious flirt and you doubt it’s the first time he’s tried to pursue someone who isn’t interested in him. You doubt it happens very often, but it has to have happened at some point. Not to mention, his reputation regarding women is bad enough that Manchester City is already giving him an ultimatum, so you probably have a chance, and the worst-case scenario is that you amicably part ways with the team and that’s that.

But realistically there is a worse worst-case scenario, and it’s pretty damn close to what Garrett is threatening. Losing this side gig wouldn’t really be too much trouble. It would put a dent in your savings, and you’d have to be a bit better about how you ration out your groceries and other necessities around the flat, but losing your job at McLaren? Being blacklisted from the industry entirely? That’s life-destroying. You would lose everything━ all the blood, sweat, and tears you shed to get where you are would be for nothing.

All because of a prick in sky blue.

“Fine,” you utter from between gritted teeth. “I’ll help you. But I won’t post you on my account. I won’t bring you home to my parents. I won’t go round to your flat and I certainly will not have you round to mind. You get one kiss to make it official to the paps, and then nothing more.” You take your own threatening step toward him, and a vindictive part inside you shines with malicious glee when he shifts ever so slightly backward. “If you try anything else, I will run to the papers and drag you through the mud worse than any of your little psycho groupies ever could.”

He scoffs, “You’d ruin your career.”

“But I’d tear you down with me,” you reply.

He takes a moment to think, staring into your eyes and weighing how serious you are. Whatever he sees staring back at him must be convincing enough because he sniffs, nods, and smirks.

“Deal.” He leans down, “I think I’ll be taking that kiss now. Make sure to really sell it, yeah?”

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre

━━ a/n: i feel like i say this every time, but i am seriously blown away by how well the first part of this was received! like, seriously, thank you so much for the kind words everyone said about it! hopefully this second part lives up to the hype of the first, it's a little denser, but the events are important to establish for the rest of the story so it needed to happen!

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #social media au #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 #oscar piastri

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fcthots · 8 months

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god… corruption kink with jason. he wants to be the one fucking you and making you make obscene noises. especially if reader is like really kind or sweet or something. he wants that all to himself and he wants to fuck you good.

especially if he’s really good friends with reader and you mention you’re a virgin. hed be thinking about that all night. he feels so bad about it— a guy like him shouldn’t want to ruin a pretty, innocent girl like you— but you’d look so pretty taking his cock.

-🧸

(ps. love the blog!! keep up the good work)

I can also make you a standalone w this premise if you’d prefer that

But in the meantime: ADDIND THE TO THE TATTOOARTIST!JASON UNIVERSE!!!! Part one here!

After that first time Jason met you, you two were inseparable. You could now just freely walk into Wayne Manor without anyone questioning it. The longest you two have gone without hanging out is 5 days over the past many months. That was a tough week. You have a drawer at his place (and it becomes a running joke) from the amount of times you have fallen asleep on his couch, but he always picks you up and puts you on his bed. It started one night when Jason had a nightmare and you cuddled him out of his panic and back to sleep. Since then, you just share the bed.

And it is killing Jason. He fell in love with you from the first day he met you, and you’re just so sweet. You hold his hand in public, even if you aren’t dating (don’t get him started on the press). You let him nap on you all the time. You massage his sore shoulders. You let him vent about his job when he has a bad client. He wants to be with you so bad, it’s killing him.

But Jason would do anything for you, including wait for you. He can wait. He will wait. He can do this.

You’re sitting on his couch, laying with your back against his chest. He has one arm over your torso and the other hand running through your hair. The TV is playing your favorite shitty sit-com, and Jason finds it so weirdly attractive that you’ve seen it a thousand times, but still laugh at all the dumb jokes. Sue him, it’s endearing. He isn’t much paying attention to the show, though; he’s too focused on you.

He zones back in when he hears the TV say the words “the first time is always the worst time” out of context. He can’t help himself, it’s funny. He thinks his joke is hilarious.

He smiles. “False. I’ve had much worse times than my first time.” He feels your laughter on his bare chest. A beat of silence. “What about you? Was your first the worst?” He figures you’ll agree, that’s probably why you didn’t respond: your first must have sucked.

“Actually I’m a virgin.” Jason really hopes you don’t hear or feel his heart beating against your head.

“Ok well what about a hand job?” Maybe that wasn’t the most platonic thing to ask, but fuck, Jason was really wanting to know how wide eyed you would be if he gave you a hand job. He could slip his hand into your waistband right now and-

You laugh. “That’s what she said. But, no, no one’s touched me but myself.” He sees your face go red.

His brain stops. “Nothin wrong that.” He wants to be your first. He wants it so bad. It’s all he can think about. He wants you sitting all pretty on his cock. Fuck.

He can’t stop his imagination. He’ll make your first the best you’ll ever have. But you’re so innocent and he really shouldn’t think about his friend this way… but fuck you’d look perfect taking his cock. You’d whine at the way it felt, all stretched out for the first time, and you’d ask him to hold your hand. He’d praise you all the way through, making sure to tell you how good you are for him, how good you feel. He’d make you feel so good, you’d be babbling nothing but nonsense and maybe his name. He’d watch all the thoughts disappear from your eyes as he made you feel so fucking good. He can’t get the image out of his head, of you whining for him as you take his cock.

He makes up some flimsy excuse about going to the bathroom before you can feel him hardening into your back. He gets up, goes to the bathroom and splashes water onto his face.

Fuck.

You’re so innocent and that shouldn’t turn him on more but his breathing is getting heavier. And he shouldn’t think about you, his friend, that way. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be turned on and thinking about fucking his closest friend. But how would you react? What little noises would you make when he touched your virgin clit? Would you moan as his fingers worked you open, so much longer, bigger than your own.

Fuck.

Part 3

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader smut #tattoo artist!jason #red hood x reader smut #red hood x you #saph’s thots #red hood imagine #saph’s love letters #🧸 anon #tattooartist!jason

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mrzombielover · 2 months

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- slow ride ch1

feat. sinner!adam x fem!hotel worker!reader

series masterlist | next chapter

warnings: NSFW, enemies to fuckbuddies, adam and reader both suck, unhealthy relationships, size kink oooops, light degradation

a/n: oh my god this is so self indulgent. something is fr wrong with me bc all my favorite men are irrevocably fucked up and toxic and emotionally damaged and would treat me like shit teehee

wc: 2.2k

“You took my shame and you took my pride / And now you gonna take me for a slowride”

When even Charlie is trepidatious about checking someone in to the hotel, you know they’ve fucked up bad.

Adam had shown up, tail between his legs, admitting something about how he’s “desperate enough to try anything,” even this “stupid delusional humiliating hotel.”

Charlie, who’s more like an angel than Adam ever was, had ultimately decided that he could stay. After a lengthy and heated discussion, she’d reminded the group that the hotel’s policy states that everyone deserves a chance at redemption, regardless of the sins they’ve committed. Considering he killed your friend, you thought that was bullshit, but it’s Charlie’s hotel at the end of the day, and you’re just along for the ride.

You like Charlie, which is why you put up with having Adam around. She’s a good person- genuinely, deep down. There’s no hidden motives in her actions. You’ve not met many good people in your life, so she’s won your respect, even if you have your doubts about the hotel’s premise.

But for as much as you love her, you briefly questioned her sanity when she asked you to keep a special eye on Adam.

“…and how exactly is that the job of treasury secretary?” You deadpan.

“Wellll…” Charlie trails off, looking away for a moment. “It isn’t really. Buuut what if I was asking as a favor, for your friend?” She clasps her hands together, giving you a smile. You have to avert your eyes from the hopeful look on her face before your resolve cracks.

“No way in hell,” You say quickly.

“Please!”

“No,”

“Pleaseee!”

You bite your lip as you think. He’s obnoxious, yes, but what’s really the worst that could happen? You close your eyes and sigh.

“…you owe me one,”

You regret accepting every day. Nobody got along with Adam. Well, nobody except for Nifty, who seemed thrilled to have a real bad boy staying in the hotel. You, however, got along with him the least of all.

For someone who’d come to the hotel in his time of need- who was in no position to ask for anything other than forgiveness- Adam sure has a smartass mouth. It seems Charlie just wants to give you a brain aneurysm, that’s why she gave you this job. Even if that wasn’t her goal, that’s certainly the stage you’re approaching, because fighting with Adam everyday is 100% going to make you pop a blood vessel.

You can’t help it. Something about him- the way he acts, the forced proximity, just gets under your skin, makes your eye twitch. He should be groveling, begging for forgiveness, putting his heart and soul into bettering himself, yet all he does is bitch and moan. Constantly complaining would be one thing, hell’s full of whiners, but he also feels the need to voice every thought he’s ever had, which often includes insults and snide remarks about those around him. You’ve never been one to take that shit- though, nobody at the hotel really does. It seems to be much worse with you two, specifically, though.

The problem comes in because, as much as you hate to admit it, you might sometimes occasionally have some things in common with him. No, you’re not quite as loud or crude or obnoxious, you don’t generally insult people for fun, but if someone deserves it?

You’ve tore into people for way less than murdering your friend, showing up on your doorstep and being a pain in your ass 24/7, especially if you’re in a particularly shitty mood. Reduced people to tears for mildly inconveniencing you, having an annoying voice, wasting food, etc etc… all of which Adam does.

Generally, you’re apathetic to what goes on around you, especially at the hotel. You’re fed, don’t have to pay rent, and can pretty much do whatever you want, so dealing with the annoying, traumatized, dramatic residents and staff is a fair trade off in your eyes. Adam should, in theory, be no different than the rest of them to you. So you cannot, for the life of you, figure out what about him makes him so much worse than the rest.

You just try not to think about him as much as possible. But when you ignore him, he just seems to get worse.

“Jesus, you don’t think it’s a bit early to start drinking?”

You mentally groan as you hear his voice, avoiding eye contact as you crack open the bottle.

“I mean, Isn’t this shithole supposed to be for rehabilitation?” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he opens the fridge.

“Why don’t you focus on your own rehab first, dick? Been weeks now and you’re still an asshole,” You snap, before taking a swig of your beer. He shrugs, grabbing the orange juice from the fridge and placing it on the counter. He walks past where you’re leaning on the counter to get a glass.

“I mean, damn, you didn’t even try today, huh?”He laughs.

“Why are you pickin’ a fight with me right now?” You raise your voice a little, exasperated and too hungover to deal with this.

“oh, uh, i dunno… i’m bored?” He shrugs again, looking over to you with a self satisfied smile. You groan in frustration, then sigh, forcing yourself to keep it together.

“…and you wonder why your wives left you,” you mumble with a roll your eyes, turning to quickly leave the kitchen. you don’t see his face, but judging from the sound of a crash and footsteps quickly following you into the hallway, you hit a nerve. oh, god, here we go…

“you fucking junkie bitch!” he yells after you as you stomp up the stairs.

“you’re proving my point right now!” you say over your shoulder.

“Like you have room to talk? Let’s bring up your love life, huh?!”

“oh my god shut up!” Angel yells through the door as you pass his room. “Every fuckin’ morning with you two!”

Adam ignores him, continuing to rant as he follows closely behind you, every degrading name he can think of spilling from his lips.

“…fucking whore cunt- whose not even fucking listening to me!” he says as you turn into your room. you turn, attempting to slam the door, but he sticks his foot in the gap and grabs the door, shoving it back open.

“what in the fuck is your problem today?!” you yell.

“it’s you, bitch!”

“oh my god- how do you care about anything this much? Seriously, it’s not that deep!”

you jump a little as he suddenly slaps the beer bottle out of your hands, the glass shattering loudly and the leftover beer soaking your socks. your jaw drops, outraged, and you can’t help the reflex to reach up and smack the side of his head.

“ow!” he yelps, and you raise your fists to hit him again, when-

“you- fucking bitch-!” he shouts. you cry out in surprise as he grabs your wrists and yanks you with surprising ease, shoving you roughly into the wall behind you.

theres a struggle, both grunting with the strain of pushing against each other as Adam wrestles to keep the upper hand. You go to knee him, but he moves quicker, slotting one of his legs between your own and pressing his body against yours to pin you completely against the wall.

then, something changes. he pauses, the close proximity seems to have finally registered in his brain. his eyes widen and you pause too, both panting, faces inches apart. his grip loosens, and a flicker of confusion crosses his features.

“wait, what’s-“

“shut up,” you snap suddenly. before you even realize what you’re doing, your hands are on his chest, and you’re shoving him towards your bed.

“take off your shirt,” you command as the back of his knees hit the mattress and he’s falling backwards. he quickly does as you say, looking up at you with wide eyes as you straddle him and rip your own shirt off as well. he mumbles a nice when he sees you’re not wearing a bra. you reach to tug off the sweatpants you had on, and as soon as you can kick them away Adam’s hands are on your waist and flipping you over. He hurriedly rips off the rest of his clothes before he’s back on you, leaning down to eagerly press kisses down your neck. you have to tilt your head to make room for the horns now permanently attached to his head, and you think of the irony of this situation.

the sound of fabric ripping followed immediately by two of his fingers finding your clit makes you gasp. you bite back a whimper as he begins to rub rough and sloppy circles on your clit. the pleasure doesn’t last long before he’s pulling his hand back, only to shove a finger inside your cunt quickly, and you gasp again. being so unprepared, the stretch burns a bit. fuck, has he always had such big hands? he’s gentle at first, as he works the single finger in and out of you, and once the pain subsides, he quickly adds a second one.

“Oh, fuck,” you can’t help the curse that slips past your lips, and before long you’re rocking your hips against his hand. his movements are rushed and sloppy, impatient as he stretches you out. he chuckles dryly, and you shoot him a glare.

once again, before long, he’s pulling away, and grabbing you by the shoulders to make you sit up with him. you whine involuntarily at the loss of contact, and the cocky bastard laughs again.

“So impatient, babe,” He grins.

“Shut up,” You say again, pushing him so that he’s sitting up against the bed frame. You crawl over to him, and straddle his lap. His hands find your ass, groping it roughly while you grab the base of his cock and align the tip with your entrance.

You both gasp in unison when you swiftly lower yourself to take his full length. A strangled moan escapes from your lips and you let your head fall forward to rest on his shoulder. Eyes squeezed shut, you wait so you can adjust to his size. Seriously, how had you never noticed how big he was before now? Prematurely, Adam angles his hips and suddenly thrusts up into you, making you cry out in pain and pleasure.

“Oh you like that, bitch? Huh?” He says teasingly, running his hands up and down your back before moving his hips again.

“You have seriously got to learn to be quiet,” You retort through gritted teeth, reaching up to pull his hair from the roots. He lets out a groan, followed by a more pathetic whine as you begin to move on his length.

It must be all the pent up emotion, because you’re very quickly unable to speak beyond a few curses and wanton moans. Adam however, can’t seem to stop talking. Mumbling about how good you feel- for a whore, how he didn’t think you’d be so tight, how you’re so fucking sexy he wishes he’d done this sooner.

“Ugh, Adam- shut up!” You groan as you move desperately. He whines as you pull his hair again for emphasis, biting his lip as you feel his hips snap up into yours.

“Oh, god-“ You’re squealing, back arching as you can feel your whole body tense. You’re on top, but as you grow more limp, he’s holding you upright as he roughly fucks into you. “I’m close!” You warn, and it comes out a strangled sob.

You’re so, so close. Euphoria clouds your brain, and collapse onto him as he continues to hold you up to thrust into you.

You fall backwards, and Adam follows, caging you underneath him as he chases his own release now.

“oh- fuck- don’t stop!” You’re practically screaming as your orgasm crashes over you, and you wrap your arms around and claw at Adam desperately, fingernails leaving marks on his fleshy back. You only faintly register the breathless laugh he lets out at your state as he now pounds into you.

He slams into you with an intensity that forces the air out of your lungs, and even Adam can’t form thoughts or speak anymore.

“Oh, fu-uuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god,” He can’t believe the noises that are coming from him, but he also can’t find it in himself to care when you feel this good. You’re so sensitive, and still tight from your previous climax, and he can feel your pulse in the walls of your cunt as you clench around him.

Pleasure quickly turns to overstimulation, and you moan his name again, reaching up to pull at his hair, horns, wings, anything, as tears begin to prick at your eyes. Hearing you moan his name, seeing the look on your face, knowing he’s the one doing this to you is what he needed to send him over the edge.

“o-oh my god-“ he groans, hips stuttering as he presses his body as close to yours as possible, spilling his cum deeply inside of you with an actual moan.

He stays still for a moment, both of your breathing labored, sweat making your hair stick to your foreheads and necks, but you stay holding eachother. While both your brains are still fuzzy, thoughts muddled from the aftershocks, he takes a hand up and wipes your hair away from your face, and the tears from your eyes.

Eventually, he sits up and pulls out of you, rolling over to lay next to you on the bed. Neither of you say anything, too fucked out to think of the repercussions from your actions.

#!my stuff #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #adam x reader #ok how do i tag this…#first man adam #first man adam x reader #idfk idc #!not sfw #female reader #this is like so cringe LMFAO #it’s ok tho idc😜

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fettuccin-e · 1 year

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The Wonderful Way Things Change

A/N: hi there everyone... shamefully, very shamefully, I have not posted anything original since i think like february. it was an unplanned hiatus! promise it was completely unplanned, this semester just really kicked my ass lol. BUT HERE WE ARE! with matt smut of course how could I not because he is the loml so please enjoy! love you!

Description: Based off this ask, and can be read as a loose sequel to this (my first ever fanfic oh boy oh boy). In which Foggy calls you to check in on Matt, and the sight of your boyfriend all disheveled in a suit is making you a tad desperate. Thankfully, neither of you have the self-control to keep your hands to yourselves.

Tags: Matt Murdock x Reader, afab!fem!reader, no use of y/n, smut like so much smut who do you think I am, fucking Matty in a suit, oral (f!recieving), unprotected piv (pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids) (w/c: 2.5K)

Yours and Matt’s relationship is new, somewhat, but you both know that it’s been a long time coming. It’s only been a few weeks since he finally kissed you for the first time, since he healed your poor, pining heart. It’s not like other relationships you’ve had, with the talking stage at the beginning, where you’re still asking each other about your childhoods, favorite movies, and songs. You and Matt already know everything about each other.

He knows about your shitty job that you hate but manages to pay the bills. He knows all about your childhood, all of your hopes and dreams. Up until a few weeks ago, the only secret you’d kept from him was your frankly ridiculous crush on him.

But you know that it’s the same way for him. You already know about Daredevil, and to Matt’s unending surprise, you accept him, love him for who he is. You don’t want him to give up either side of himself; you’re happy to just have him. Matt is still trying to get used to the feeling of actually having you, instead of just being by your side, letting you slip through his fingers.

Up until a few weeks ago, Matt had resigned himself to only being your friend. The friendship he’d found in you at Columbia would remain just that. Unbeknownst to him, you’d resigned yourself the exact same way. But a misunderstanding and a frustrated and ridiculously dramatic love confession later, you’d finally kissed him like he’d only dreamed of. You’d allowed him to touch you like he’d always wanted, and Matt could swear that he’s never felt anything softer, never tasted anything sweeter than you.

So the relationship is new, but it also feels like you and Matt have just been waiting, settling into routines like you’ve been together for years. You know how Matt is, how he’ll bury himself into cases and recordings and court documents, searching for that one bit of evidence that proves his client is innocent. He sends Foggy and Karen home on nights like these, insisting that they need to sleep, that they work too hard as is.

“He’s gonna be there for hours,” Foggy tells you over the phone. “You’ve gotta get him out of there or he’s going to collapse.” You laugh, pulling on your coat and stepping out of Matt’s apartment.

Ever since you had both confessed your feelings for each other, and Matt had finally, finally taken you to bed, you had more or less moved in. It hadn’t been intentional, nor had Matt officially asked you, but the one time you had broached the subject of maybe sleeping at your own apartment, Matt’s arms had wrapped around you, holding you to him while he pressed desperate kisses all over your face and neck, telling you that his apartment was so cold without you there.

“C’mon, sweetheart, haven’t we spent more than enough time apart?” he had murmured, and you had agreed.

“Yeah, alright Fog, I’m heading over there now. I’ll make sure you have a well-rested partner by tomorrow,” you giggle into the phone, and you laughed even harder at Foggy’s genuine sigh of relief.

“Christ, how did Nelson, Murdock and Page survive without you and Matt together?”

“It’s truly a mystery, Foggy,” you tease, and Foggy laughs with you. He keeps you on the phone the entire walk to their office building, filling you in on the cases he, Karen, and Matt are working on. You could talk to Foggy for hours, really, but he lets you go as you walk up the steps to their offices. With a promise to talk soon, maybe take a trip to Josie’s, you hang up, shoving your phone into your coat pocket.

You can hear the recording Matt is listening to through the door to his office, some judge droning on and on. You enter the room quietly, heart beating wildly at Matt in his sharp suit, without his glasses, hair mussed from his fingers running through it the way they usually do when he’s working through a case. You watch as a smile blooms across his pretty lips, his eyes lifting to your direction as he pauses the recording.

“Hi, baby,” he says, and his sheer beauty in that moment nearly brings you to your knees. This man, with his hair sticking up in every direction, his tie slightly loosened at his chest, big brown eyes and wide smile is yours. All yours. You can’t help how your heart beats even harder at the thought.

You watch his grin meld into a knowing smirk as he listens to the quick pattering of your heartbeat. “Something got you worked up, sweetheart?”

You hum, crossing the room to where he sits in his office chair. “Oh, you know,” you drawl, trying to keep your voice coy and light, even though you know that your heart is giving away your sudden desperation for the man in front of you. “I’m just thinking about all of the things I get to do now.”

“To me?” He’s playing coy too, trying to goad you.

“Always to you, Matty,” you giggle, and he chuckles in return. You swing a leg over his lap, straddling him and relishing in how his chuckle morphs into a choked gasp.

“What- What kinds of things, gorgeous?” his voice is breathier now, beautifully affected by your actions.

“Just how I can do things like this,” you wrap your hand into his tie, tugging him towards your mouth. “And things like this-” you breathe over his mouth, before capturing his pretty, enticing lips with your own.

Matt groans into the kiss, smoothing his hands over your hips before reaching behind you to grab your ass in his big, thick hands, tugging you further up his lap. Your clothed pussy rests just over the bulge of his cock through his slacks, and you can feel it thickening beneath you.

“And you call me worked up, Matty?” you murmur against his mouth, wiggling in his lap and pulling a soft moan from his lips.

“When my gorgeous girlfriend walks into my office, smelling like my apartment and so fucking soft on top of me,” he says, squeezing your ass again, “how can you expect me to be calm, baby?”

Your stomach bursts into butterflies at the title. You’re his girlfriend. He’s your boyfriend. It feels so very juvenile, like you’re twenty years old again and still trying to get through calculus class. Maybe it’s because you’ve been waiting that long. Waiting for him, since you first met him and Foggy at Columbia. It feels so far away now, so different, and yet, you still burn bright and warm with Matt’s attention on you. Calling you his girlfriend.

He shifts his hips under yours, the bulge of his thick cock against your pussy impossible to ignore, and you whine, just barely, but Matt hears. Of course he does.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “So fucking needy.” He lurches forward again to press his lips to yours, licking into your mouth.

“Please, Matty,” you whisper, and he groans into your mouth all over again. He doesn’t separate his mouth from yours as he lifts you against him, using a hand to brush the cumbersome documents and files off the desk behind you, before laying you softly against it, running his hands over your waist and kissing you like you’re something precious.

But you are, Matt knows that you are the most precious thing in the fucking world. And you want him. Matt can hardly believe it sometimes; he still sometimes thinks he’s dreaming when he feels you in the morning, pressed tight against him, your heart calm and steady with sleep.

He licks into your mouth like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, and what a way to go. He could stay in this moment forever, kissing you while your hands tangle into his hair. But your sexy little whines are echoing around him, your hips moving in desperate little circles against the aching bulge in his slacks.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he whispers, and you just whine louder. It’s a nearly painful thing, taking his lips from yours, but he can fucking smell your arousal, and the need to dive between your thighs is suddenly too much for him to handle.

You kind of want to cry when Matt breaks your kiss, but your mourning at the loss of his lips is quickly cut short by his thick, calloused hands pushing your skirt up your thighs, leaving the material to bunch around your waist. He nudges his nose against your clit through your panties, taking a deep breath in through his nose, savoring it, and you nearly black out.

“Oh- oh my God,” you stutter, and Matt smirks in that ridiculously cocky way you hate that you love.

“I mean, I go by Matt, but if you want to call me God-” Matt starts, tugging your panties down your legs.

“Matthew Michael Murdock, I swear-” You want to continue, you really do, but it’s really hard to keep your train of thought when Matt is leaning down and licking a long stripe up your soaked pussy, swirling around your clit and making your hips buck up uncontrollably. He quickly braces a forearm over your twitching body, holding you still with his strength while he eats your pretty cunt.

“So fucking wet for me, gorgeous,” he mutters between your thighs, the vibrations feeling like shockwaves up your spine. “So pretty, baby, could’ve been eating this pretty cunt since college.”

You can barely form a sentence, only able to utter out whines of Matt, Matt Matt, between desperate moans as he licks into you. You can feel him grinning into your cunt, knowing he’s driving you fucking crazy, before he’s drawing up to capture your throbbing clit into his mouth and sucks. He brings his free hand up to sink a thick finger into your needy entrance, crooking it up and pressing into a spot inside that makes white creep into the edges of your vision. He just sucks and sucks, swirling his tongue around our achy clit and playing with you like a toy.

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, unexpected and brutal, and you would have thrashed off the desk if it weren’t for Matt’s strong arms holding you steady. He carries you through it, licking at you softly while he keeps his finger inside, giving your pussy something to clutch onto. As your hips finally stop twitching, Matt rises, leaning over you again, and you can’t help but tug at his tie again, dragging his mouth to yours, uncaring of the taste of your pussy covering his lips.

“Please fuck me, Matty, oh god, please. Need you in me, baby,” you whine, and you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed at how needy you sound. Matt groans, sounding just as desperate as he licks into your mouth. He takes his hands from your body to reach down, undoing his belt and slacks just enough to tug his aching cock out. He’s so hard it’s nearly painful, the head sticky and red and throbbing with the need to fuck you. To claim you.

You wrap your arms over his back, tucking your head into the crook of his neck as he sinks into your sensitive pussy. As he finally bottoms out, you lean back to look at him, at his big eyes staring just off your face, his mouth slightly agape.

“I thought about this, y’know,” you whisper, your nails digging into his back as he presses just a bit deeper inside. “Every time I brought you guys lunch, I-” you moan softly as Matt thrusts, hard and so fucking deep you swear you swear you can feel him in your guts. “I thought about you, fucking me on this desk, in-in this fucking suit, god, Matt.”

“Shit, baby,” he grunts, rocking into you so hard the desk rattles beneath you. You can barely pay attention to it, not when the tip of Matt’s thick cock is grinding into the spot inside you that makes you scream, your nails digging into the soft fabric covering his back. “I thought about you too, god, you have no idea, sweetheart.” You can only whine in response as he continues, “You’d bring us all lunch, wearing your little uniform, fuck, with that pretty skirt and those heels.”

Matt’s hands tighten over your hips, forcing you to meet him thrust for thrust, and it’s so fucking good. You can’t manage to answer him through your desperate whines of his name and choked moans as his thick cock stretches you out for him, but Matt’s still talking. You don’t know if he can stop.

“I could hear your thighs brushing together under that tight fucking skirt, your heels clicking up the hall, and all I could think about was ruining you. Ripping that skirt off you and making you beg for my cock,” he grunts, driving desperately into your soaked pussy. Your head is swimming, drowning in Matt’s words, his scent, his cock.

“Now I can, baby,” he grunts, voice breaking on a choked moan. “I can fuck you just how I’ve wanted, make this pretty pussy soak my cock. Can wake up to you in my bed, fuck you whenever I want, whenever you want, baby, fuck I’m yours. You hear me, angel? I’m yours.” Matt can feel your pussy fluttering desperately around his cock, and snakes a hand between your bodies to press a thumb over your clit.

He leans over you, his tie loose and dangling over your face as he growls, “and you’re mine. Mine.”

And you’re gone, pussy tightening like a vice around Matt’s thick cock, screaming his name. Little tears escape your eyes, dripping down your cheeks as Matt groans your name in return, hips stuttering into yours and flooding your overwhelmed pussy with his cum. You can hear him, just barely, through the roar of blood in your ears as he whispers, “So good, baby, so perfect. Love you so much, so much, you have no idea. I love you, loved you for so fucking long, angel.”

You bring your hands up to tangle your fingers into his soft hair, bringing him to your lips, whispering a soft “I love you so much, Matty,” in return before meeting him in a soft kiss. His smile against your mouth is blinding, endlessly joyful, and slightly delirious.

He’s still buried inside you a few minutes later, when you finally whisper, “I’m not sure this is what Foggy had in mind when he sent me over here.”

“If this is what Foggy had in mind, I might have to send him a fruit basket, or buy him a round,” Matt chuckles, and you smack him lightly on the shoulder before you’re laughing too. Matt smiles, unable to believe that you’re his, before he cuts your giggling off with a loving kiss.

#hey I'm back #with daredevil smut #what else did you expect #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock smut #daredevil x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil smut #daredevil fanfiction

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casuallyawkardd · 10 months

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Dating Miguel O’Hara

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x GN!Reader

Summary: An overview on what dating Miguel O’Hara would be like. Starting from how you meet/get together to actually dating and the long run

Warnings: fluff, angst, age gap kinda?? I picture reader in their early/mid 20s and Miguel in his early/mid 30s

A/N: Wow, two in one day, a rare sight indeed 😂 This is SFW but like if ya’ll want a NSFW it’s here and send in requests if you have them! Or just your own headcannons I don’t care I have no one to talk about this man with🤷‍♀️

Meeting

Miguel is a workaholic, so he doesn’t leave the Spider HQ hardly ever. He usually spends his time in his office/lab working, in the cafeteria on the hunt for an empanada and maybe in his private quarters if Lyla convinces him to take a break. Aside from going out to save the world, both his own and others, Miguel is basically a homebody....except for when it comes to one thing.

Coffee.

Miguel lives off of the stuff. His superhuman abilities can only keep him going for so long. He needs an extra boost to keep him going through the long nights. That being said, he’s very picky about his coffee and refuses to touch the liquid trash the cafeteria offers. Which is how he meets you.

You’re a college student, in your senior year actually, having spent the last three and a half years working at a small cafe for some spending money. It’s nothing special, somewhere that’s a secret delicacy to the locals of Nueva York. It’s quiet, which is what Miguel likes. It also stays open late, something he appreciates as well.

The first one to fall is you. To you, he’s the handsome regular who always comes in ten minutes before closing, orders a Red Eye, requesting that a questionable amount of espresso shots be added to his black coffee, and grumbles a ‘thank you’ before leaving. Does he know you’re the person behind the hand that slides him his coffee? Probably not. But seeing his face every Tuesday/Thursday night is fine with you.

Call it a middle school crush, if you will.

One night you decide to change the routine, preparing his drink before he’s even arrived. Like clockwork, the bell at the front door rings and he comes in. You throw him off as you present the coffee and tell him the total before he can get a word in.

He finally looks at you, really looks at you.

You think it’s the first time he’s actually lifted his head, making him even taller than he already seemed. Miguel pays, mutters the same ‘thank you’, but leaves a much more generous tip than usual.

Catching Feelings

Things go on as usual, that is until Miguel notices that it’s no longer you serving him his drink. Whoever the new guy is, he doesn’t make the coffee like you do. It tastes shitty now. How do you even mess up black coffee???

When he finds out you switched to working mornings, he’s suddenly getting his coffee at the buttcrack of dawn. You take this as a good sign, daring to strike up conversation. You had tried in the past, but only ever received grunts as replies. To your surprise, he indulges you and even asks questions of his own.

“Why’d you switch shifts?”

You explain that you had started taking classes in the afternoon, prefering to end the day studying and doing homework rather than wiping counters and serving half awake customers. He keeps going.

“What are you studying?”

“How much longer until you graduate?”

“Any jobs lined up?”

It’s the kind of questions you’d hear from your distant relatives who don’t know you well enough to ask anything interesting. But when he does it...your stomach finds itself in knots. He’s no longer some handsome regular. Miguel is funny, in a sarcastic, blunt sort of way. When he chuckles, it rumbles in his chest. His smiles are small and brief, usually only one corner of his mouth turning up rather than a full on grin.

Miguel doesn’t notice that you’ve wormed your way into his thoughts. It’s a slow process. The small talk building up on itself with every visit until one day he realizes he knows that when you were little, your older brother pushed you off the slide at the neighborhood park and that’s why you have a small scar on your temple. How you love your anatomy/phys class, but hate the TA that runs the lab. How it’s ironic that you make the best coffee he’s ever tasted and yet you personally prefer tea.

Hell, even the other spiders are starting to become aware that something has him distracted. How his ‘quick coffee runs’ progressively taking longer and longer and that he smiles a little when he tosses the empty, cardboard cup in the trash. It’s all an inside joke until Peter B. opens his stupid mouth.

“So who are they?”

“Who’s who?”

“Don’t be coy, O’Hara~”

Miguel doesn’t know what his friend is talking about until he’s alone later that night, watching his screens. He finds that he can’t focus as well as he usually does, thinking maybe he needs some coffee. The thought makes him freeze.

“....God dammit.”

Dating

It doesn’t take long before he asks you to be his partner. Not because he’s fallen ‘madly in love with you’, as Peter likes to say, the thought seeming childish to Miguel. Rather, it’s because he wants a reason to keep you around.

Hear me out.

You go on a couple dates when his schedule allows it. Rather when Lyla/Jess/Peter convince him to touch some grass... He enjoys going to the science museum, tagging along with you to the gym and treating you to a nice dinner from time to time. But like I said....he’s a workaholic. What most would consider quality time with a potential new love interest, he views as time away from his job. Worrying that the multiverse will collapse at any minute if he’s not watching it.

When he asks to be exclusive, it’s more of an excuse for himself to keep seeing you. He likes you, likes how he acts when he’s around you. Likes how you make him feel. Miguel wants a reason to keep seeing you and not have the reason be to satisfy his coffee fix.

It helps that you’re both busy, that way he doesn’t feel like the only one who has to take rain checks for date night. He was upfront from the beginning, telling you that he was Spiderman and letting you know what you were signing up for. That he’ll try to be attentive, especially in those crucial first months of dating, but that he wouldn’t be able to always give you the attention that you deserved.

It’s a lot to hear, but you agree to be with him. He’s too pretty to pass up, you think. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? It doesn’t work out and you break up? You’d been there and done that with past partners; it was nothing new.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for dating a man like Miguel O’Hara.

He’s got more pros than cons, being written in the books as your first ‘mature’ relationships. The honeymoon phase is short lived, only a few weeks as you two enjoy the new relationship. He shows you around HQ, you invite him to events at your college, the typical stuff. Afterwards, you two go back to being busy, you’ve got finals/graduation/job hunting and he’s got a Spider Society to run. The result being that you call each other more often than talking in person. Miguel doesn’t do texting, you thought you were reserved with your emojis, but Miguel brings a whole new form of dry to the table. With a call, at least you can pick up on his tone.

Miguel, from the beginning, isn’t one for PDA. Reserving the times when he holds you and kisses you breathless for when the two of you are alone. That being said, he’s affectionate in his own way. Holding doors open, remembering what you like to order from your favorite food places, standing between you and anyone he deems as sketchy. Spoiler alert, it’s anyone who isn’t a fellow spider. He cares and you know it, which is what matters.

Future

Okay girliepops, yes that’s a gender neutral term, let’s be honest with each other.

If you want to be a for lifer with him, it’s not gonna be an easy road. He may have more pros than cons, but the cons are a lot more severe.

He gets absorbed in his work. He’ll go for long periods of time without contacting you. Hell. you two will probably be on and off for a good chunk of time. It’s not that he doesn’t love you like when he first fell for you; rather he struggles to find a healthy balance. He’s used to the world being on his shoulders, being responsible for the fate of the multiverse, at least that’s how he sees it.

Normally you’d drop him like all your other exes, but you’re in too deep now. You reminisce on the good times because when things are good between you, they’re really good.

You decide to be the push the both of you need. Even if it’s considered ‘toxic’, you give him an ultimatum. He either prioritizes you or the rest of the multiverse. Miguel scoffs at the idea at first, thinking the choice is obvious, but then he really thinks about it. Realizes that he’s as much in love with you as you are with him, arguably more so. He’s mad, but not at you. Mad at himself. Mad that the idea of you out of his life is almost the equivalent of when he lost the life he had with Gabriella. That he’d be a fool to let you slip away.

“....God dammit!”

You two get married shortly after that incident, ya’ll have been together for years at this point if you include the on and off phase of your relationship. It’s nothing fancy, just signing some papers and throwing a party with a small group of friends and family. Similarly to when you first started dating, Miguel considers the marriage an excuse to be around you more often. The voice in the back of his head that tells him to go home to sleep rather than on the platform. That reminds him that there’s something worth going home to now.

Is he the perfect husband? God no. He’ll fall into his old habits of putting work first and you second, but he does better about it and it doesn’t happen as often as when you two were just dating. The thought of getting to crawl into bed, wrapped in your arms as he falls asleep, motivating him more than anything else to keep the multiverse safe.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara headcannon #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara imagine

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 months

Note

wibta if i don’t go to my boyfriends bday dinner because someone i don’t like is there?

🎱💭 so i can find this later

i’ll try to keep the backstory as brief as possible.

i have an ex boyfriend, M, who was incredibly emotionally abusive and manipulative. I won’t say more than that, but back in august or so i finally managed to get myself out and told him i never wanted to see him again. of course this didn’t blow over well with him and he told everyone. that meant our mutual friends, including one we’ll call C, heard about it. at first C was nice, and seemed to be pretty neutral, and i didn’t really care that they were still friends with M because it’s not my job to police who’s friends with who

then around october ish me and my current boyfriend, J, got together. when one of M’s friends heard about it, he flipped and lost his mind crying and throwing a tantrum. C immediately took his side and started interrogation me and J, and then cussed me out when I expressed that i felt my privacy had been violated. we haven’t spoken since.

me and J now have a very happy relationship. the issue is that they’re planning a dinner for their birthday in february and are planning to invite C since they’re still friends and J has apparently forgiven and made up with them. i never want to see C again. not only do i not trust myself not to cause a scene or hurt them (not me trying to be edgy and cool this is a legitimate fear), but i don’t feel comfortable being in such close proximity with someone who, to me, represents an extension of my abusive ex who took his side and blew up when i set a boundary.

but here’s the thing: i feel like it’s shitty for me to say “i don’t want to come to your bday dinner because i don’t like your friends.” it’s not my job to police who J is friends with, and if they could make up with C that’s great, even if i couldn’t. i also don’t want J to feel rejected or like i abandoned them over something as superficial as who they choose to talk to

so, will i be the asshole if i refuse to come to my boyfriend’s bday dinner because C will be there?

🎱💭 just in case

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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half-oz-eddie · 4 months

Text

“I’m sorry to do this, Billy, but, effective immediately, you’re fired.”

“Why? What’d I do?!” Billy exclaimed. “It’s almost Christmas! You can’t—“

“We lost a lot of money this year, Billy. You were laid off along with dozens of people. Pick up a severance package from Patty at the desk before you leave, okay? Best of luck to you.”

Billy stormed out of the advertising agency without that shitty severance package.

He couldn’t afford to lose this job. It sucked enough that the pool was only open during the summer and he needed to pay his way through school with a shitty phone job for an advertising company. But getting fired before Christmas really took the cake.

He didn’t want his father to find out he was jobless, or else he’d be homeless, so he went to a job agency and was handed an ad for an administrative assistant to a COO at H.H. Enterprises.

The pay was quintuple his salary at his old job. He didn’t think he had much of a shot with his limited experience and his age, but he completely lost hope when he learned what H.H. actually stood for.

Hugh Harrington, Steve Harrington’s father.

It had been 4 years since Billy and Steve even interacted since they fought. It was a brutal night that still haunted Billy, so he assumed it probably still haunted Steve. He expected Steve to be the one to stop him from getting the job he so desperately needed. Rightfully so, Billy believed.

What made it worse was finding out not only would the COO be interviewing him, Steve was the fucking COO!

“This is just my luck.” Billy mumbled to himself as he took the elevator to the 19th floor of the office building.

He dreaded the reaction to his face when he entered his office, but all Steve did was smile and offer him a handshake.

Billy reluctantly shook his hand and accepted the seat across from Steve.

“So, you worked at that shitty advertising agency, huh?” Steve skimmed through Billy’s very short resume.

“Uh…yeah, they…let me go the day before yesterday.”

“Jesus. Christmas is in like…3 weeks.”

“I know. They let a bunch of people go and tried to give us baskets as severance packages.”

Steve snickered. “That sounds like something they’d do.”

Billy sighed. “Look, St—" He stopped himself, not wanting to be so informal with a bigshot Chief Operating Officer. They were adults now in the working world, and he was at the bottom of the food chain. "Uh, Mr. Harrington—”

“Oh, god, no." Steve emphatically shook his head. "Please don’t. Mr. Harrington’s my old man. Just call me Steve.”

“Okay. Steve. Listen. I know we don’t have the best history, but I work my ass off and I really need this job—“

“No problem, you got it.”

That was easier than he thought. “A-are you sure?”

“Hey. I’d rather have a familiar face around the office for a change. Between you and me, this place is dreadful.”

“It’s just—after what happened between us…”

“We were…stupid high school seniors. It was nearly half a decade ago. I’m over it.”

If Steve was willing to let go, maybe Billy could finally let go of the pain of that night too.

“So…I got the job? When do I start?”

“Now, I guess.”

“Sure. What do you need me to do?”

Steve sighed. “I’ve never had an assistant to tell what to do before. Not that I wanna...boss you around or anything, I just—“ Steve groaned, resting his head on his desk. “I hate working with my dad.”

“You…want some coffee or something?”

“God, yeah. Coffee—coffee sounds great.”

“How d’you like it?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t really like coffee. Just keeps me from falling asleep. However you make it is fine. Also—got a smoke?”

Billy smirked as he stood. “Always do.”

Billy spent most of his days at work learning about Steve and only helping out when he wanted some coffee or seemed too overwhelmed.

He was able to pick up on all his body language. He’d file some paperwork when Steve was stressed, take a call when Steve was pinching the bridge of his nose because he had a migraine and offering him a cigarette when a phone call got too irritating because these old partners of Mr. Harrington’s were either hard of hearing or fucking hardheaded.

Steve never had to say a word when he needed something. Billy was right there by his side whenever he needed his help and support.

He even offered to massage Steve’s shoulders when he mentioned how awful Steve’s posture was.

“God, you are amazing.” Steve moaned as Billy worked out the stiffness in his shoulders. “I really needed you.”

“I’m here, pretty boy. You’ve got nothin’ to worry about now.”

“Ah, yeah. That’s nice. Right there.”

Billy’s hands felt so firm, yet so gentle on Steve’s aching shoulders. He almost wanted to ask him to massage more of his body, but that definitely wasn’t appropriate in the workplace.

Even though they knew each other. They were still strangers to one another, so Steve was getting to know an entirely new person—someone he found special.

“That’s perfect, Billy. Thank you.”

For some reason, that massage felt like more than a massage. Steve already missed Billy’s hands as they pulled away from his shoulders.

“Why don’t we take a break and have some lunch?” Steve offered after typing up exactly one sentence and taking 2 phone calls.

“Cool.” Billy agreed. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Y’know that donut shop across from Melvald’s? They have the best damn sandwiches I’ve ever had. They make this special mayo for their BLTs…you gotta try it.”

“Yeah? I can go get us some.”

Steve handed Billy some money from his pocket. It was more than enough for sandwiches. “Get some donuts and some hot chocolate too. I’m so damn tired of drinking coffee.”

“Anything else? Want me to stop by Melvad’s and pick up your snacks? Your supply drawer seemed a little empty last time I checked.”

“Please. You know I get moody without my Pringles.”

“I know. That’s why I asked.” Billy smiled.

“Hey, Billy.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think I’m good at this job? It’s just—I feel like such an idiot sitting at this desk.”

“You’re doing fine, Steve. You’re damn good at your job. You get your paperwork done on time, your dad’s only been here like—twice to ask you anything and he didn’t even criticize you as much as the first time. You answer all your calls, you show up to all your meetings promptly—“

“Because of you. I do all of that because of you.”

“I’m an assistant, Steve. It’s my job to make sure you’re on the ball. But I’m not in those meetings with those old guys charming them with your ideas. Again. Your ideas. You have a vision for the future of the company.”

“I just…I feel like I’m under a lot of pressure.”

“You are. You’re the COO. It’s a big job. But don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“I’ll try not to be. Thanks again, Billy. For always listening to me complain. I never hear you complain once.”

Billy chuckled. “I just complain about you when I get home.”

“Really?” Steve pouted. “Am I that bad?”

Billy's chuckle turned into a boisterous laugh. “I’m kidding. You’re real easy to work with. I’m glad I got this job.”

“Me too.”

They made endearing eye contact, smizing at one another for what felt like an eternity before Billy cleared his throat and turned away.

“I’ll um...go grab lunch and your snacks. Be back soon.”

“Don’t take too long. I don’t think I can do this without you.”

“You’re a big boy, Steve. You can survive an hour without me.”

“An hour?!” Steve whined. “I don’t think I can.”

“Jesus, you’re so clingy.” Billy grinned. “I’ll be back as soon as possible. I promise.”

Steve relaxed his shoulders and his face softened into a smile. “Thank you.”

Billy drove to Melvalds and picked up Steve’s favorite snacks. He got 4 rolls of pringles and a pack of Oreos, then ordered their sandwiches, donuts and hot chocolate.

He wanted to get Steve a Christmas gift, since Christmas was in a few days, but what do you buy a man who has everything? Billy decided to spend the day trying to figure it out.

When he got off the elevator, he could overhear the muffled sounds of arguing through Steve’s closed office door.

“I’m not bringing a date to the Christmas Party!”

“Again?! When are you ever gonna meet a nice girl? You can’t keep showing up without a date. You’re 22, almost 23 years old. No spouse, no family. You look pathetic! You used to have all those girls on your arm. What happened?”

“Nothing happened! I just haven’t dated anyone since I broke up with Nancy!”

“You couldn’t even do that right, could you?!”

“She left me for another guy! That isn’t my fault!”

“It’s every bit your fault. You weren’t enough. You never are! You never apply yourself to anything!“

“I’ve been applying myself here!”

“Yeah, for the past couple of weeks, sure. But for months before that, you were falling behind, missing calls, showing up late—“

“Dad. I’m trying to change!”

“…Yeah. You definitely need to.”

Billy stepped back into the elevator, pretending he’d just gotten off on the floor as Mr. Harrington stepped out of Steve’s office.

“Good afternoon, sir.” Billy greeted with a nod.

“Hello, Billy.” He greeted in a monotonous tone as he entered the elevator.

Billy rushed down the hall to Steve’s office to check on him.

“Hey, pretty boy. I got your snacks and our lunch!” He said with a big smile, hoping to pick up Steve’s mood.

“Can you believe my dad? He comes here just to berate me about not having a girlfriend, throw Nancy in my face and make me feel like shit.”

“Yeah, I…heard everything. If it makes you feel any better. I don’t think you’re pathetic or that you’re not enough. I think you’re pretty great.”

“So what if I don’t bring a date to the office party? Why does he care about appearances more than his own son?”

“It’s just the kinda guy he is, I guess.” Billy shrugged as he unwrapped Steve’s sandwich and filled his snack drawer. “Eat. We’ve still got another 6 hours ahead of us.”

“I love when you say “we.” Because, Y’know, it’s true. We make a great team.”

“We do, yeah.”

“It’d be kinda funny if I took you to the Christmas party as my date, yeah?”

Billy took a deep breath. “Uh…wouldn’t your dad hate that? My dad would definitely hate that.”

“Actually, no. My dad doesn’t care. He’s always talking about modernizing and hiring “more queers for diversity” or something like that.” Steve said, making quotation marks with his fingers.

Billy laughed. “I guess that’s why I’m here.” He said as he took a bite of his sandwich.

“What?” Steve pointedly glanced up at him.

“What?” He innocently chewed his food.

“So then you should definitely be my date!”

“Why so insistent? You queer too?”

“My mom kinda outed me a few months ago. She didn’t know, she just…guessed.”

“How’d your dad react?”

“He said he didn’t think a twink like me would have much luck in the dating pool.”

Billy bursted out into a fit of laughter. “So your dad thinks you're just taking it lying down, huh?"

“I’m not! The two times I’ve been with guys in college, I topped!”

“Oh yeah? Living up to your king Steve persona still?”

“I-it’s just…it works for me, Y’know?” Steve chuckled, obvious blush kissing his face.

“Works for me too.” Billy smirked at him.

“Can uh…” Steve chuckled. “Can you work overtime tonight?”

“Over, under, from the back…wherever you need me, I’m here.”

“You’re not talking about work, are you?”

“You’re not talking about work either.”

They challenged each other with mischievous glances.

“You still haven’t told me if you’ll accompany me to the Christmas party.”

“Course I will. I’d love nothing more than for Mr. Harrington to think you’re my twink.”

“Oh, fuck you!” Steve chuckled.

Billy shot Steve the most alluring smile and intense gaze from those ocean blue eyes. “You better.”

#a holiday gift for y'all #and a treat for me for beating covid #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fanfiction #ivy.doc

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anniesannex · 6 months

Text

You’re So Art Deco

Chapter one

Sugar daddy !Johnny Cage x reader

Description: you are a struggling college student who needs some cash. Your friend suggests a sugar daddy but you wouldn’t do that. Right?

A/n: this is literally my first time posting my writing like ever so I’m a little nervous to be doing this.

With a dramatic sigh, you enter the dorm you’ve been working so hard for you’ve barely had to relax in. Between school and work you’ve barely had time to sleep. Luckily you had a day off the next day.

“Bad day?” Grace asked as she brushed her long golden locks. “I don’t know why you don’t just quit that shithole (Y/n).” Of course she wouldn’t.

“Because I need the money Grace.” You sigh as you take your hair down. “Or else I can’t cover what my scholarship doesn’t.”

“You’re literally killing yourself though.”

“Grace.” You Sighed. “I love you but I don’t want to engage in this conversation right now.”

“If you need the money I’m sure my dad ca-”

“I’m not taking money from your dad, Grace. I appreciate that you worry about me but I can’t.” You pull out a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. Shedding the uniform for your shitty minimum wage job.

“Can you at least tell me what happened today.”

“The usual, rude people treating me like I’m fucking stupid, my manager being a sexist freak, and of course that guy who keeps trying to hit on me came in.”

“I fucking hate that guy.” Grace spat. “You sure you don’t want to come out with us tonight (y/n/n)? It’s not the same without you there.”

“I’m exhausted Gracie, as much as I’d love to I can’t.” You got your laptop to work on your school work.

“Why not get a sugar daddy?” Grace suggested. “It’s definitely help. Plus you can get to bang some hot dilfs.” She winked as you rolled your eyes.

“Girl I’m not getting a sugar daddy.” You sighed. “By the way where’s the Tito’s?”

“I just got a new bottle, it’s in the fridge.”

“Thank you so much.” You grabbed it out of the fridge and opened it. “You’re literally the best person ever. Y’know that?”

“You seem to tell me that a lot. Thank you (y/n).” She smiled. “But take it easy with the Tito’s tonight. I don’t wanna have to put you to bed again.”

“I will.” You paused to take the shot. “Have fun tonight. Tell them I said hi and that I miss them.”

“Will do.” Grace grabbed her bag as she left the dorm. As you continued to work to you thought more and more at the idea of having a sugar daddy. It would definitely take a load off you. After the debating the pros and cons you signed up for a dating app meant to find sugar daddies.

“I really hope I don’t get fucking scammed.” You sassed to yourself as you made your username. Once you had an account you looked through all the possible matches you had. None of them really piqued your interest as you looked through them until-.

“Ooo he’s kinda hot!” You exclaimed as you ready his username and bio.

Johnny, 49

@JohnC95

Sagittarius

6’1

Hobbies: martial arts, long walks on the beach, and looking in the mirror.

Looking for someone to spoil ;).

You had clicked to accept him as a possible match when the words ‘it’s a match!’ Appeared on screen. It was only a matter of seconds until the first message came in.

@JohnC95: ‘well hello there gorgeous. It seems like we’ve matched.’

@y/n:’ it seems like it haha.’

“What the fuck is going on right now?!” You thought out loud.

@johnC95: so what are you doing right now?

@y/n: working on course work and drinking.

@johnC95: she’s educated I see. Also are you old enough to be drinking?

@y/n: I’m old enough. So what are you doing?

@johnC95: sitting through dinner w/ execs. Discussing my next film. Although I’d rather be w/ you, doll ;).

Film? You wonder what he does.

@y/n: that’s sweet of you. What do you do?

@JohnC95: I’m THE Johnny Cage.

Johnny Cage? That’s definitely a scam. You were rolling you eyes as you typed.

@y/n: I don’t believe you. send pics.

@JohnC95: better yet why not FaceTime?

You blushed at his boldness but typed as you got up from your bed.

@y/n: what abt the ‘execs’?

@JohnC95: said I had to take a call. They can wait on me.

@y/n: just let me get into something that isn’t pajamas and I’ll be on the phone.

@JohnC95: will do doll!

You look in your closet for something that was cute. It had been a while since you were in something other than your work uniform or pajamas so you had forgotten what most of your closet looked like. You had been rummaging around until you found a black dress with a red jacket a pair of tights and leg warmers to go over heeled boots. After putting that on you spent a little time on your hair and put on a little makeup before typing.

@y/n: I’m ready ‘Johnny’.

Within a few seconds the laptop had begun ringing. You nervously hit answer, wondering who was going to be at the other end.

“Wow you’re gorgeous.” Johnny spoke as you sigh out of relief for not being scammed. “See I’m really a big ol’ pile of sexy goodness.”

“Thank you Johnny. Sorry about doubting you.” You apologized.

“It’s fine, so what are you drinking?” Johnny asked.

“Tito’s. Just titos.”

“Wow straight vodka, you are bold.” Johnny paused. “What’s your Venmo?”

“My Venmo?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s (y/n)14. Why?” You had questioned.

“Just check it. In two seconds.” Johnny’s face had be taken over by a fuzzy screen as he seemed to be doing something on his phone. As you pulled out your phone to check your Venmo.

From JohnC95

$600.00

“For talking to me on the phone.”

“Johnny, I can’t accept this.” You started “I’ll se-”

“I want you to have it. I like you, (y/n).” Johnny looked sincere. “But I should go. I’ll talk to you very soon Doll.”

“Good night Johnny Cage.” You smiled. As the call ended and you got ready for bed again. You wondered how in the hell managed to find Johnny Cage on a sugar daddy dating app. Wasn’t he like married? You decided to look it up as you got back into bed.

“Christina Ford and Sonya Blade. Both divorced.” You spoke. A new dilemma came across your mind in how the fuck you were gonna tell Grace.

“Oh fuck.” You groaned at the thought. Before you heard a ping from your laptop.

@JohnC95: goodnight Doll, sweetest of dreams :).

You thought of a response back as you put the money into your account. It would help towards paying for college.

@y/n: night, Cage. Enjoy those Hollywood executives.

You flopped your head back down on the pillow as you heard the door to your dorm be opened.

“Holy shit. The night I had.” Grace sighed. “You were right t-”

“I FOUND A SUGAR DADDY AND ITS JOHNNY CAGE!”

#johnny cage #mortal kombat #mk1 2023 #mk11 #dilfjohnnycage #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage smut #MK

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syrena-del-mar · 8 months

Text

Very Rarely Do Men Know How to Be Altogether Good or Altogether Wicked

The last five minutes of today's episode left my mouth gaping, it really felt like I was watching a catastrophic accident happen in front of me and I just couldn't look away.

I wasn't completely sure on how Sand was going to learn about Ray and Mew's history, but I sure wasn't expecting that Ray's feelings would be exposed in such a volatile way. Maybe I’m in the minority here, I’m not exactly sure because I’m seeing a mixed bag of reactions, but I don’t necessarily agree that Sand ever needed to find out about Ray’s feelings for Mew. Much less from Boston.

This is partially going to be a bit of a continuation of my thoughts that Boston has a Machiavellian personality, followed up with SandRay's relationship becoming the unsuspecting 'victim'. Again, I'll be using pulling from Machiavelli's The Prince, but I'm also using his work Discourses on Livy. [Title credit to ch. 27 of Discourses]

Boston, still the Machiavellian 'Prince'

“Another difficulty to be added to the one mentioned above is that a state that becomes free creates for itself enemies rather than friends.”

― Niccolò Machiavelli, Discourses on Livy

Let me be upfront, I don't hate Boston, I actually enjoy the chaos he brings, but he's a fascinating character to break down and really analyze his actions. The last five minutes was, in my opinion, the most chaos that he has caused out in the open. This was never a situation of Boston 'saying what needed to be said.' This was Boston seeing an opportunity to take control of someone and doing so by unfairly outing Ray's feelings. I, again, stand by the idea that Boston is not a narcissist, but rather a Machiavellian personality type. This doesn't make him a 'villain'; Only Friends does a good job at showing that there are no villains in real life, just incredibly shitty people. Boston is simply a dick, who chooses to play with his friends to feel a sense of control when he doesn't have it. Has he ever cared for his friends? Does he keep them around simply for convenience? Hard to say. That doesn't make him evil, it just makes him a first-class jackass.

In my post where I had stated that he was more of a Machiavellian rather than narcissist, I came to the conclusion that, 'In his viewpoint, he is the kingpin, even in his group of friends, because he believes that he's the one that controls how his friends move since he knows how Mew is developing feelings for Top and is aware of Ray's feelings for Mew.' This time around, he practically admits it right after purposefully revealing Ray's feelings for Mew, "I just want to keep track of my best friends' romantic moments.' Boston hoards information so that he can throw it in people's faces when it fits him the best, there's no 'good intentions' on his keeping tabs on his friends.

Boston knows that TopMew are going to sleep together, they're serious and he's out of the running. Is it simply ego or is it because of self-interest? Whatever the catalyst is, he essentially has nothing holding him back anymore. He's seeing his "friends" getting "serious", while he's out there dealing with known (and unknown) filming of one-night stands he had being used as revenge porn. That'd hurt and anger anyone, but from what has been shown, Boston thrives off of control and so having his sex life used against him would feel like an even bigger blow. They're minor events that are snowballing and Boston likely needs to feel that control again. It's why he pushes Nick down without a second thought when Nick is trying to pull him away (opposed to how Ray lets Sand pull him back). So he claims that control back, he deliberately reveals what he knows, purposefully taking Ray down with him. While he may be feeling like shit, at least he'll be better off than Ray, who's left to pick up the pieces.

Sand and Ray, the intentional destruction of the 'kingdom'

“In general you must either pamper people or destroy them; harm them just a little and they’ll hit back; harm them seriously and they won’t be able to. So if you’re going to do people harm, make sure you needn’t worry about their reaction.” ― Niccolò Machiavelli, The Prince

Yes, Sand and Ray are in a “situationship.” Yes, they’re constantly getting both physically and emotionally closer. Yes, Sand is developing feelings for Ray (arguably vice versa too). But that’s it. They started off as friends with benefits and while they’ve been shifting around, neither one has fully crossed that line. There was no defined area in the relationship, at least not before the implosion. They’re barely getting to know each other, Sand even calls Ray out because he knew that Ray had never noticed him before, not in a way other than just the Bar Performer.

Ray is working through who he is without Mew, without his crush on Mew. He's come to the realization that while he put Mew as his #1 for many years, he's knows he's not that for Mew, and is slowly coming to the realization that he may have never been. These are his feelings to work out and his alone. Sand and Ray are first and foremost friends, as they had agreed upon and they happen to hook up often. This was what they agreed upon. Even if one or both of them are catching feelings, it does not mean that Ray has an automatic obligation to come clean to Sand.

Arguably, Boston was unaware of this set up, but honestly he didn't need to know. This was not his business, Boston didn't suddenly spill the fact that Ray has had feelings for Mew for years to look out for Sand. No, this was an intentional hit on Ray, where he was positive that it would hurt. Boston has repeatedly used Ray's feelings for Mew for his own convenience (Exhibit A: Meddling at the pool party), whether it be to get Ray to react in a certain way or to have a punching bag. He knew how defensive and reactive Ray would get when he brought up RayMew's kiss and supposed sex (was this ever confirmed?) that they had.

Boston speaks in definite presumptions when he talks about others, he does this to Top and he did it to Ray. He spins realities to how he sees fit and with the confidence that he speaks in, he makes others believe him. It's why Mew never questioned that Top is accustomed to sleeping around and didn't think that Top really wanted anything more than sex, because that's what Boston specifically told him that Top was like. It's why now Sand believes that he has no hour in Ray's life, even when Ray gives him the opening to ask more, because Boston purposefully spoke in definite terms. Even the most secure person would be left feeling unsure and unbalanced.

So when Sand, who knows that their relationship is based on being friends with benefits, is confronted with words from Ray's supposed friend who explicitly states that Ray is in love with Mew and that he's being used as a rebound, what else can he do but believe that?

What little trust and rapport that they had started to build up has come crumbling down. They're frantically gathering the pieces of a 'kingdom' that has been turn into dust, the aftermath of the Prince's wrath. It's why Ray scrambles for the bottle and it's why Sand shuts down. How can they react to what Boston did, when they're struggling to salvage the little remnants left behind of what was supposed to be a blossoming relationship?

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faggot-vampire-dies-epicly · 1 month

Text

Tear me to pieces

Summary: Vanessa was annoyed. Her dad had sent her to check on you at the old Freddy's location on the outskirts of town. She expected the eerie atmosphere and dusty hallways, but she didn’t expect the way you made her feel. | Words: 6,031K

Warnings: Semi-graphic depictions of corpses. Death, murder, missing people, references of child death/murder. Parental abuse, physical abuse, verbal abuse, manipulation. Cursing. A slight sexual joke. Heavy angst, hurt/almost no comfort. William is an asshole on this one, you guys. Fem!Reader.

A/N: Whew, this took so long! But I'm kind of proud on how this turned out, so I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I went out of my way to make William as shitty as possible because I love making Vanessa suffer, and well, there's also sort of a plot twist? It's probably pretty obvious but I tried to keep it in the dark a little :). Title is from Lovely by Billie Eilish & Khalid/Inspired by the entire album of Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, by My Chemical Romance.

Main Materlist | Vanessa Masterlist | AO3

She had arrived at least fifteen minutes ago, but her headache from her father’s berating had not yet subsided. She really wasn’t in the mood to make any effort. In spite of William’s scolding, she wanted just to fulfill her father’s orders in the most half-assed-and-bare-minimum-effort way possible.

Vanessa sighed, staring at the restaurant’s sign. The letters of the neon sign glowed dimly over the parking lot.

She cursed under her breath and got out of the car. She opened the trunk and took out the bag where she kept his fake police uniform. Her father had been trying to convince her for months to enroll into the police force, but she had refused over and over again. Vanessa knew he just wanted her to cover for him, and she refused to be more involved in his crimes than she already was.

She put the uniform over her normal civil clothes, grabbed the fake police badge and the ID and stepped out of the car.

Vanessa took a deep breath and finally walked to the entrance.

Doing these checkups was never easy for her. She got to meet pretty mundane people who were practically doomed from the start. From middle aged parents that just needed the job to survive with their kids to college students and teenagers that were fresh out of high school and just wanted to make some money to buy a car or go out with their friends.

They never lasted. Never.

Unfair was an understatement.

At least her father didn’t have to do with the disappearance of the majority. Most of them she would find inside Freddy. It wasn’t pretty. It didn’t get any easier, but at least she knew her father wasn’t the real cause in the end. Or that’s how she tried to convince herself.

She rang the bell, waiting for the guard of this month (or perhaps of this week only) to come out.

She looked back at the parking lot. It was empty except for her car, parked on the darkest corner she could find. The door opened and she snapped her head back to the entrance.

And she saw you, looking confused.

“Is there anything I can help you with, officer?”

She stared at you for a moment. “Another college kid?” she thought wryly, “she’s not even going to last the full week”.

Vanessa forced a smile, suddenly becoming too aware of the way your gaze wouldn’t leave her face.

“Hi,” she said in a slightly strangled voice. You frowned.

She blushed slightly and cleared her throat. “Sorry. I’m Officer Shelly. Vanessa Shelly,” she laughed awkwardly.

Vanessa extended her hand out, hoping you would understand the gesture and shook it. You complied. It was gentle, but firm.

It made her skin tingle.

Vanessa swallowed, trying to shake the feeling away.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing serious,” she began. “I just wanted to check on you. When there’s a new night guard in this place, word spreads fast.”

You made a confused face, but you nodded. She smiled at you, “can I come in?”

“Um,” you hesitated, then sighed. “Yeah, sure,” you said while stepping aside. She gave you a polite smile and she went into the restaurant.

Once inside, she looked around. It looked the same every time, but that didn’t make it any less dreadful.

The place used to be crammed with kids and their families. There were always birthday celebrations, kindergarten graduation parties, some people just going for a quick bite after a long day. Hell, sometimes even some high school students would show up after homecoming.

She remembered it well. The smell of pizza, the laughter of children, the animatronics singing and dancing.

And then, her father inside the suit. The police sirens, mothers crying, fathers yelling.

A chill runned down her spine, snapping her out of the memories. You eyed her curiously at the sudden reaction, but said nothing.

Vanessa cleared her throat again, “how long have you been working here?”

You licked your lips, an action Vanessa got too caught on. “A couple of days only.”

She hummed, nodding. “Has anything weird happened?” You swallowed, “weird how?”

Vanessa shrugged. “Like someone trying to break in,” she said casually, glancing around. “Or,” she trailed off, “equipment malfunctioning, like the monitors, or the cameras, or��”

She turned to face you. “Maybe the animatronics getting a bit quirky.” She tried to be as nonchalant as possible while mentioning the animatronics.

You seemed to tense up slightly, opening your mouth to answer but then snapping it shut again.

“No,” you said finally, with a slightly higher pitch than usual. “Nope. Nothing like that has happened, ma’am.”

Vanessa grimaced at the formal way you addressed her. “Please,” she forced some humor into her voice, “don’t call me that.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, “I’m sorry Officer–”

She raised her hand, signaling for you to stop talking. “Just,” she sighed, “just call me Vanessa.”

You breathed out softly. “Sorry, Vanessa.”

The way you said her name had her avoiding your gaze nervously. “God, Vanessa, get a grip,” she thought.

“It’s fine,” she dismissed quickly.

You two stood there in an awkward silence for a few moments. She couldn’t bear it.

“So, what made you decide to work at Freddy’s?” Vanessa internally scolded herself for asking something so stupid and personal.

“Oh,” you said, shrugging. “I just wanted to make some money before the school year starts.”

Vanessa nodded slowly, “Highschool?”

You shook your head. “College, actually.”

Her eyes widened, you looked younger than you were then.

“That’s,” she blinked a few times, “nice.”

You nodded awkwardly, and she smiled. “What’s your major?”

“English literature.”

“That sounds interesting,” she said thoughtfully.

“You know, I never considered going to college,” Vanessa murmured, thinking how her father would reduce her to dust if she even dared to suggest the idea.

“Is that why you’re a cop?” You said bluntly. You quickly realized how that sounded and attempted to take it back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Vanessa stared at you blankly for a moment before bursting out laughing.

You smiled, confused.

“Don’t worry. It is probably why I am a cop, yeah,” she said, smiling, trying to regain her composure.

Not one of the previous had charmed her enough to even smile, and now you were making her laugh.

She obviously couldn’t tell you that she wasn’t actually a cop. She sighed, gazing at the clock that hung on the wall. “Well, I better get going, I still have to patrol a couple of blocks,” she lied.

You nodded, understanding, and then escorted her to the door.

“I may come back another night to see how you’re doing, alright?”

“Sure.”

Vanessa nodded, but before you closed the door, she spoke again. “You never told me your name.”

You smiled, “Y/N.”

“Y/N,” she echoed, then nodded. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you too, Vanessa.”

And with that she made her way back to her car, her heart pounding inside her chest.

She returned four days later by her father’s order.

Same routine. Choose the darkest spot in the parking lot, put the fake uniform on top of her normal clothes, grab her fake badge and fake ID and put on her bravest face.

It was the same procedure she had done for years. Except, of course, that this time it was pouring, and she hadn’t brought a rain coat with her.

She frantically rang the bell, feeling the rain wet her clothes and soak her to the bone.

You opened the door, letting her through. She mumbled a thank you as she rushed inside.

“God, you’re soaked,” you murmured. She snapped her head towards you, almost straining her neck, and you blushed at how that sounded. “I, I meant–”

Vanessa sighed, looking at her uniform, “I know what you meant,” she grumbled.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, “I think there’s a towel in the office. Come with me.”

She followed you to the office while shivering. You offered your chair for her to sit and she gladly accepted it.

She watched you search every corner of your office for a towel, but the only thing you could find was a handkerchief.

“Sorry, this is all I have,” you scratched the back of your neck as you offered the piece of cloth. She took with trembling fingers, and immediately dried her face.

“What brings you here again?” You asked, sitting on your desk. She sighed, untying her hair to try and dry it a bit with the handkerchief.

“I just want to see how you are doing, honestly,” she said, making a face. “I didn’t read the weather forecast, as you can see.”

You chuckled a bit, “you’re going to be fine.”

A beat passed and you spoke up again, “actually, I have coffee, would you like some?”

She groaned softly. “Oh my God. Yes, please.”

You chuckled again, taking out a thermos from your backpack and pouring some in the mug sitting on the desk.

She took the coffee hastily and took a sip, humming in contentment. “I think you’re the first guard to bring coffee to the job,” she murmured. You raised your eyebrows.

“Okay, first of all, that’s ridiculous. The job is being a night guard, I can’t be the only one,” you rolled your eyes, and she smiled into the mug. “And second of all,” you looked into her eyes, “you met the other guards?”

Vanessa choked on the hot liquid, and coughed. She had said too much.

“Um,” she said, trying to recover. “Well, I met some of them,” she laughed awkwardly, avoiding your eyes. You hummed, seemingly satisfied with the answer.

“And how were they like?”

Vanessa sighed, as flashbacks flooded her mind.

Sometimes she would find their bodies still sitting on the chair, their head laid down on the desk. She would consider herself lucky when she found them like that. Usually they had been just stabbed on the chest, or the stomach. It was probably Foxy, or that’s what she liked to think.

Other times she would find them in the supply closet. Dismembered, split in a half, headless, or smashed. She would have to hide the bodies and additionally clean the whole room.

The animatronics were relentless, especially, she had come to realize, if the person looked like her father, even if it was just the minimum.

She didn’t blame them of course. They had been trapped in there for at least two decades, and even if they had forgotten what happened, and who did them wrong, they still subconsciously searched for vengeance.

“Vanessa?”

She snapped out of her thoughts, “yes?”

“What were the other night guards like? I mean,” you shifted on the desk, leaning in. “I mean, I’ve heard that most of them went missing. But that can’t be true, can’t it? That’s too many people to be a coincidence.”

She swallowed, looking at the remaining sip of coffee on the mug.

Vanessa cleared her throat in an effort to regain her composure. “Well, I’m sure most of them simply quit.”

“You don’t seem so sure,” you said, arching an eyebrow. She tried to brush it off by chuckling.

“I mean,” she sighed, “it would be too many people to be a coincidence, like you said. People don’t just… disappear.”

You frowned. The tone in which she had said it made your curiosity rise.

Just as you were about to ask her to explain what she meant, she drank the last of the coffee and handed you the mug.

“Well, thanks for the coffee,” she looked down at her hands, where she was holding the handkerchief. “And for the…” she waved the piece of cloth, “this.”

You smiled and her heart sped up. “Sure thing."

It had become a routine. She came back to supposedly check on you, but in reality she just wanted to see you. To hear you.

She ached to look at you as you ranted to her about a boring book you had been reading lately.

She brought you dinner sometimes, which you always took with a smile, and a thank you in a soft voice, which made her heart leap into her chest.

Vanessa wasn't what people would call experienced in love, much less in dating, or relationships, but she knew that what you made her feel was not only attraction, but also affection.

Affection had always eluded Vanessa. First from her father, given his nature, and then from her mother, who vanished from the face of the Earth when Vanessa was a child.

But you were different. You seemed to exhale affection through your pores. It was so natural for you, whether with her or with everything else, that she could feel devotion slowly consuming her.

Her father had started to suspect that something was up. He had always controlled her outings, only letting her out at night to fulfill her duties as his spy, but she was checking on the guard a little too much for his liking.

He had even cornered her, grabbing her arm tightly and pressing her against the wall. “I’m warning you, Vanessa,” he said. “If I find out that you are crossing the line between my orders and your personal matters, it’s not going to end well for either of you. Especially not for her.”

She had suppressed a shiver as William let go of her arm.

Vanessa knew it was risky, but she didn’t want to stop. In fact, she couldn’t. It’s like she had become addicted to you.

Addicted to your smile, your humor, your voice.

She hadn’t even touched you yet, aside from the handshake on the first night she met you, and the occasional brush of hands when she handed you some food, or when you gave her a mug filled with coffee.

She loved to hear you rant about the books you read, even if she thought that reading was boring, especially the books you always chose to read.

“I’m telling you,” you said, “this has to have some truth to it!” You exclaimed, holding the book up, whose cover read “The Turn of the Screw.”

“What if ghosts do exist?” You continued. She rolled her eyes, slightly unamused by your interest in the supernatural.

She knew ghosts were real. The whole place was a proof of it. All the deaths, and the attacks, it was obvious what had provoked them, but she remained silent as you kept speaking.

“I mean,” you continued, “you know energy can’t be destroyed, right? And humans are energy. So what really happens to our energy when we die?”

You seemed fascinated by the concept of ghosts now. All thanks to that stupid book.

“Y/N, you can’t be serious,” Vanessa scoffed.

You rolled your eyes, “you just don’t get it.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “Yeah, that’s probably it.”

You grinned, “I could lend you the book if you want.” She chuckled.

“That won’t be necessary, believe me. I know enough thanks to what you have told me,” she smiled.

“Well, that sounds like you don’t like reading.”

She laughed, “Not all of us can be workbooks like you, you know?”

Your grin widened. “You just don’t appreciate the beauty of reading and analyzing.”

Vanessa hummed, and smirked, “that must be why I became a cop.” You groaned. “God, no. I thought you had forgotten about that.” She smiled.

“I never forget the things you tell me,” she said softly.

You smiled softly, blushing slightly while you looked down at your book. On the page you were left on you put the handkerchief, which you were now using as a separator, and closed the book.

“You know,” you spoke softly. “I know that might have sounded pretty mean. But I said it as a compliment.”

She met your gaze, “how so?”

You licked your lips. “Well, I could never be a cop. To be a cop you need to be brave, smart and caring. Reading is something I’ve always loved, that’s why I’m majoring in english literature, but you,” you paused. “You became a police officer to help people, something that has never crossed my mind.”

Vanessa swallowed, knowing that she wasn’t a real cop, and that she wasn’t pretending to help anyone but herself and her father.

“Your decision to pursue a career that allows you to help others doesn't compare to my futile decision to study literature because I like to read and be annoying.” You smiled at her again. “I could never be like you, and I admire you, honestly.”

She felt a little overcome with emotion, and completely filled with guilt. She swallowed her feelings down.

“Thank you. For your kind words.”

You grinned, “as long as I’m alive you’ll get to hear more kind words coming from me.”

One night, when Vanessa descended the staircase, carrying the bag with her fake belongings, William was waiting for her at the foot of the steps, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

He wore that look he always had when he was planning something, like a predator stalking its prey.

“Vanessa,” he began, his voice cold like ice, “where are you going?”

She swallowed, lifting the bag for her father to see, hoping he would deduce her intentions, but he merely arched an eyebrow. “I’m going to Freddy’s”, Vanessa said in a small voice, “to check on the night guard.”

She brushed past him, walking towards the garage.

“You’ve been checking on her an awful lot lately, hm?”

William trailed behind her, his pace slowly but his steps wide.

Vanessa didn’t turn to look at him. She opened the car’s trunk, throwing the bag inside, and just hummed in acknowledgement to her dad’s words.

“Is there a reason why?” William insisted.

Vanessa sighed. “No, dad. I just want to keep an eye on her,” she closed the trunk with more force than she intended to. “I’m just doing as you told me. I’m just doing what you entrusted me to do.”

He hummed, sounding more like the typical cartoon villain than an actual man.

“Remember what I told you, Vanessa.”

Vanessa didn’t answer, she just opened the driver’s side door, and got into the car.

Just as she was adjusting the mirror by her window, William grabbed her wrist tightly, and squeezed even tighter.

Vanessa groaned.

“I’m serious, Vanessa,” he leaned closer to her through the window, towering over his daughter. Vanessa felt herself shrinking on her seat.

"If I catch you spilling your guts to that filthy little friend of yours, I'll skin her alive, and you, dear daughter, I'll lock you up in the basement with the prototypes of animatronics I've been working on.”

Vanessa’s breath got caught in her throat. “Dad–” she tried to explain, but he just kept talking, squeezing her wrist harder.

“And I assure you, little girl,” William practically sneered, “this time those animatronics will serve their purpose if you dare come near them."

Finally, he let go of her wrist, or rather, he flung it away from him, and Vanessa's hand hit the mirror.

William walked away, slamming the door behind him as he left the room.

Vanessa sat there, still trembling, holding onto her hand, which hurt pretty bad. But she didn’t know what was worse, if the physical pain, the threats against you, or the threats against her.

When she had finally calmed down enough, she turned on the engine, and drove away.

Away from her father, and looking for you.

Your smile had disappeared, and turned instead into a frown as soon as you saw the state she was in.

A nervous mess, with tense shoulders, and a bruise starting to form on her wrist. Wide, alert eyes met yours instead of the usual bright eyes that typically greeted you.

You closed the door behind her, the atmosphere was so tense that it could have been cut with a knife.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she sighed, leaning against one of the tables that were used for dinning back in the day.

You crossed the distance between you and her in two seconds, and delicately took her injured wrist.

“Then what is this?”

Vanessa’s pulse quickened. You were touching her.

Your skin felt so soft, so warm, and inviting. She suppressed a shiver as she swallowed dryly and looked away.

“That’s just,” she gestured with her other hand, “an occupational hazard.” “I've never seen you have one of these before," you murmured. “Does it hurt?” You asked as you poked the bruise lightly. Vanessa hissed.

“Shit–” you let go of her hand as if it burned you. “I’m so sorry–”

“It’s fine,” she cut you off. “I’m fine, really.” She ran a hand through her carefully arranged ponytailed hair. “That just… happens sometimes. Sometimes things just happen to you, and you can’t explain why.” She swallowed, “you never know if you did something to cause them, or if that is just how life works.” You opened your mouth to say something, but then closed it again.

“Come with me,” you said finally, walking towards your office.

She hesitated for a moment, but ultimately followed you.

Once inside, you took your backpack and began to search inside. After a few moments, you pulled out a cold juice can wrapped in the handkerchief from last time.

“I brought this because I wanted to give it to you,” you said after you saw Vanessa’s look of confusion. “But I have books in my backpack, I don’t want them to get wet.”

You unwrapped the handkerchief, which was now cold. With a subtle gesture, you extended your hand towards her, indicating for her to bring her wrist closer.

She complied. You took her wrist, wrapping the cold cloth around it.

“There,” you said, “that’ll help with the swelling.”

She took a deep breath, touched by the gesture.

“Thank you,” Vanessa said, meeting your gaze as she smiled softly.

“Anytime,” you replied, offering the juice can to her. “Besides, it matches your uniform.”

Vanessa smiled, taking the can from your hand. Her fingers brushed against yours, which caused a tingle to go down her spine.

Your smile widened, your eyes traveling to her injured wrist. “I hope it helps,” you gestured towards the piece of cloth wrapped around her wrist.

Vanessa nodded, pulling the tab from the can, and resting her lips on the cold surface of the lid. “It already feels better,” she admitted with a soft voice.

“Good,” you replied. You both stood there in silence, and Vanessa couldn’t help but notice that providing her with some comfort made you look strangely content.

“Have you seen the animatronics perform?” She asked suddenly.

You huffed a laugh. “Uh, no. Not really.”

She took a sip from the juice, “would you like to?”

You met her gaze, holding it for a second, and then you nodded.

When Vanessa woke up the next day, she lay in bed, mulling over everything that had happened the night before.

You giving her your handkerchief to help with the swelling of her wrist, the juice can, the animatronics' performance, the dancing, the way you rested your forehead against hers as you laughed after tripping over your own feet.

It felt surreal, to say the least.

When she finally decided to descend the stairs to find something to eat, her father was in the dining room reading the newspaper.

Their eyes met, but due to the fight from the night before, neither of them said anything and shortly after, William disappeared from her sight.

She was relieved, of course. A day without William meant a day without problems. No arguments, no empty threats, and no deathly stares.

Vanessa decided to just stay in and relax. It was true that she was glad William wasn’t around, but she didn’t want to upset him further by going out without permission. With her going out almost every night, deliberately disobeying him and lying to his face. She didn’t want to think about what could happen if he found out.

Hours passed and Vanessa was growing worried. Had something happened to him?

It was true that whenever they were together, Vanessa felt like she had to walk on eggshells, always being on edge. But he was her dad after all, wasn't he? Her only family.

After a while of pacing out in front of the door, Vanessa sat down.

She started dozing off, and just when the clock was about to strike midnight, the door opened, with a very calm William stepping inside.

Vanessa immediately jumped from her seat, rushing to him.

William gave her an exasperated look, but smiled to her nonetheless.

He unceremoniously walked to the kitchen, opening the fridge, and Vanessa trailed behind him.

“Dad?”

William ignored her, taking the carton of milk out of the fridge, and setting it on the table. He then turned to the cupboard, taking out a mug, and lastly, took out powdered coffee from the kitchen cabinet.

“Dad,” Vanessa insisted. What was his deal now? Was he going to ignore her until his anger had dissipated?

He turned around, turning on the hot water, and filling his cup, which was now full of coffee powder. He hummed a tune, one Vanessa could recognize from the songs the animatronics used to play, she clenched her fists.

“Father,” her patience was running out, her voice was more commanding this time.

William continued on his task, now pouring the milk after having dissolved the coffee with water. Then he took the sugar jar and opened it.

She hated him. She hated him so much.

She hated his smugness, his incredibly enormous ego, the total dismissal of her feelings, the threats, the fights, the screaming, the hits –

Her fists clenched until her knuckles turned white. What was his problem? All Vanessa had ever done was to please him, and when she displeased him just once, he preferred to be away all day and ignore her afterward.

“Look at me!” she all but growled.

William audibly sighed, taking a sip out of his drink. He put the mug on the counter, and finally acknowledged Vanessa’s presence.

“Tell me,” he said in a monotone voice, “are you going to visit your little friend today?”

Vanessa swallowed. “No, I’m not.”

William raised his eyebrows. “Oh, really? That’s surprising.”

Vanessa opened her mouth to answer, but he interrupted her with a low chuckle. “I mean, you were so eager to see her last night, weren’t you?”

She inhaled, trying to relax and push her uncomfort down. “Yes,” she said between her teeth. “But since it upset you, I’m not going to go check on her for at least a couple of days.”

William hummed.

“Is that satisfying enough for you, father?”

“Bah,” with a dismissive gesture, he waved off her words, turning his head to the side with disdain.

“Playing the “father” card with me, like you’re a little kid,” he murmured to himself. “I know what you’re doing,” he turned to her, closing the distance between them.

Vanessa recoiled, panic etching her face.

She tried walking away from him until her back hit the wall, and William finally cornered her.

“You think you’re so smart, huh?” He smiled condescendingly at her. “You think you’re so tough, so… lucky. One day reality it’s going to hit you, and you’ll realize you’re not worth any of the trouble you’re causing.”

He raised his hand towards her face.

Vanessa’s breath quickened. She felt as if all of the air in the room suddenly vanished. Her chest felt tight, her throat was dry and her eyes burned with unshed tears.

William gently stroked her cheek before slowly sliding his hand downward. He rested his hand around Vanessa’s neck, not squeezing, just to hold her in place, like a silent warning.

His voice was soft and calm, but incredibly supercilious. “The day will come, Vanessa. Just wait and see.”

After a week of radio silence, Vanessa couldn't take it anymore and went to look for you at work.

Something had changed. She didn't know what exactly, but you weren't the same.

You would barely face her, let alone look at her. You would avoid her touch, you wouldn't accept her offerings of food.

You didn't offer her coffee anymore.

Vanessa couldn't help but wonder if it was something she had done.

Every time she tried to mention it, you brushed it off like it wasn’t important.

“I’m just tired, that’s all,” or sometimes it was “I just had a rough day, don’t worry about it.”

You were lying, it was painfully obvious, and both of you were aware of it.

But why? What had happened?

Vanessa couldn’t help but roll around in bed every night, thinking, analyzing.

Whatever it was, she was determined to find out.

There was something else, too.

Her father had also changed his behavior.

He stopped asking where she was going. He also spent most of his time in the basement, working on his projects.

Vanessa honestly didn't mind as much, she felt better with him being out of sight most of the time.

That night, when she went downstairs ready to check on you at Freddy's, he was in the living room, reading the newspaper.

“How's your little friend?” He asked, not lifting his gaze.

“She's fine,” Vanessa answered, maybe more coldly than she should've.

William chuckled, amused, for some reason.

“I've been thinking about placing an ad in the newspaper to look for another security guard.”

“Another?” Vanessa frowned. “Are you going to fire her?”

William lifted his gaze, “you sometimes worry me, Vanessa.”

Vanessa was taken aback by this, but her father didn't elaborate.

She sighed, making her way to the garage.

Vanessa heard her father say, “have fun,” as she left the room.

She was inside Freddy's in no time. You had developed the habit of leaving the door unlocked, Vanessa knew she probably had to scold you for that, but she honestly couldn't care less.

Vanessa headed to your office, but something stopped her.

Was that the smell of…?

No, she interrupted her train of thought. No, it can't be, it's impossible.

“Is it, though?” A voice inside her head said.

She swallowed, turning around and heading to the storage room.

With her heart beating madly inside, she entered the room.

An incredibly strong and nauseating smell hit her.

Vanessa recognized the smell easily.

Putrefaction.

Death.

And there were you. Or rather, what was left of you.

Her heart was beating so fast that she was subconsciously afraid that her blood pressure would drop and she would faint.

Slowly, painfully so, she approached your body.

At first glance, and also thanks to the stench, she could tell this had happened days ago, if not weeks.

How?

You talked with her not too long ago, barely a couple of days had passed.

How? Who?

Vanessa could no longer stand, and her knees gave way.

How? Who? Why?

All she could do was stare at your decomposed body, the dry wounds, the rotten blood, the pale skin.

It was like seeing the kids again. All over again.

Before she could When he realized it, big tears were sliding down his cheeks and falling to the ground.

This couldn't be happening. Not to you, at least.

It didn't make any sense, one day she had you dancing in her arms, and now you were lying dead on the ground.

Why?

Could she have prevented this?

She never even get to tell you how she felt. She never got to tell you that she liked you.

Vanessa trembled, unable to stop crying. Was this a divine punishment?

Did God see all her atrocities and decided to take action against her?

She tried to brush away the tears, being too harsh.

It hurt. Everything hurt. From her eyes, to her head, and her heart.

Her chest felt tight, she couldn't breathe. No amount of trying was going to compensate for it.

You were dead. But she had seen you, hadn't she?

And that's when she heard footsteps behind her.

Vanessa snapped her head back, and lo and behold. You were there.

Vanessa choked, trying to say something, anything.

“You're gone,” was the first thing that came out of her mouth, barely audible over her sobs.

You nodded, softly.

She raised her voice, “why didn't you say anything?”

You just stared at her for a moment. “I don't know.”

“You don't know?” Vanessa stood up on her wobbly legs.

“It wasn't supposed to be like this,” you say.

Vanessa looks at your face after what felt like eternity. So that was why you would recoil from her touch. That was why you would never look at her, you would never let her look at you. It was disturbingly obvious now.

Your eyes were basically drained of life, hollow, empty.

She would have realized something was amiss if you hadn't taken all those precautions.

The tears kept falling.

“I'm sorry,” Vanessa breathed out with a broken voice.

You managed a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. “Don't be. It wasn't your fault.”

She choked on her sobs, her cries getting louder.

“I don't understand,” she choked, “why are you still here?”

You (or rather, your ghost,) looked down, sighing. “I guess what they say it's true. You can't go if you have something pending.”

You approached her. "I guess I should tell you.”

Vanessa looked down at your corpse and then back at your ghost.

“Tell me.”

You sighed, smiling bittersweetly.

“Let me tell you something else first,” you began. “I still admire you for your decision to become a police officer. I know you think it's nothing. But not for me, because I know you'll help with the investigation. I know you'll report what happened here, and I'll finally get some peace.”

Vanessa swallowed. She wouldn't. She couldn't.

“Anyways, I…” you closed your eyes, and opened them again. “I'm ready to tell you.”

A beat passed.

“I like you, Vanessa.”

Numb. That's the only way she could describe it.

Her hands felt numb after dragging your body through the cold and burying it behind Freddy's, on the empty lot William had bought a few years ago.

Her heart was numb after your confession.

“I like you.”

It repeated over and over again inside her head, like a broken record.

I like you, I like you, I like you.

If only she could have said, “I like you too,” before your spectrum became nothing more than dust and memories.

If only she had said something before you were killed.

If only she had done anything at all.

She knew exactly who had done it. She couldn't pretend that she didn't see it anymore.

That night, coming home felt like a nightmare.

Vanessa had barged inside the basement, and screamed at him. At her father.

The one who had taken you away from her.

She screamed, and threw everything she could find at him. She cried, and cried, and cried.

And William remained impassive until he didn't.

Vanessa made the mistake of tearing William's work plans off the wall, and at that moment he finally saw red and revealed himself.

With an incredible amount of force, he grabbed Vanessa and pressed her against his desk.

“What do you think you're doing, you stupid creature? You think throwing a tantrum will bring her back? Do you forget who you are, and who I am?”

William basically spat the words out, Vanessa took a deep breath.

“Look at what you have become,” William narrowed his eyes as he said this.

With a trembling voice, Vanessa replied, “I am what you made me. I am your daughter.”

He growled, “you're unbearable. I want you out of my sight!”

William pushed her out of the basement, and locked himself inside.

A couple of days later, Vanessa was packing everything she owned, including the handkerchief you had given to her that one time, and leaving her dad's house. For good this time.

And a month after escaping her father's shadow, she was changing her last name from Afton to Shelly and enrolling in the police academy.

A/N: Well, that was a ride, wasn't it? Reblogs are appreciated.

#vanessa shelly #vanessa shelly x reader #fnaf #fnaf movie #elizabeth lail #william afton

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scribbledghost · 7 months

Text

Respite

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader (no y/n)

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,010

Warnings/Tags: third person POV, Really corny jokes, possibly OOC Ghost??? idek, Ghost's love language is acts of service and telling shitty jokes. This is a hill I will die on

Notes: yeah, yeah, I hear you, I've got requests sitting in my inbox (that I promise I'll get to) and here I am writing for a completely different blorbo that also shares my own damn name. Let me have this. Depending on this fic's reception I may write another. Lemme know what y'all think.

He could tell she was angry the moment she walked through the front door. Could feel it before he even saw her face.

A barely-contained, match-lit fuse, dangerously close to an exploding payload filled with shrapnel and black powder. If he’d been anywhere except their shared home, Simon would have wondered why he wasn’t smelling smoke as she walked.

He followed her silently into the kitchen where she deposited her bag and jacket, offering only one quiet word as she mumbled something about a shower and retreated into their shared bedroom.

“Alone?”

She paused. It was a question she had asked him on many occasions. And just like all those times for him, it wasn’t meant as an invitation for something explicit - wasn’t meant as a double entendre or flirtatious means to an end. It was a simple question: did the other party want the asker’s presence, a wall at their back as they stood beneath a rain of hot water. It was an offer of calm, silent company.

“Alone.”

Yeah, she was pissed.

Simon busied himself making dinner while she showered. Something quick, easy, and simple for her to at least get something in her stomach after the day she’d had. If he knew her like he thought he did, he doubted she’d eaten much (if at all) that day anyway. Part of him hoped that between a meal and a shower, her fuse would extinguish at least enough to clue him in on what was going on.

She took her time. Much like him, she showered to separate herself from work. “Washing the day off”, she called it. He knew the longer she was under the water, the more she felt the need to wash away. And today, she was there for a good, long while. Long enough for her to grumble about the water getting cold when she emerged again.

“Dinner, love.”

“Not hungry,” she said as she walked past him towards the living room.

He followed her, gently placing his hands on her arms as he brought her back to his chest.

“When’s the last time you ate?”

She sighed, and he knew he had her pinned.

“Yesterday.”

“Gotta eat, love,” he said softly. “You’ll feel better. Already made it, all y’gotta do is eat.”

Another sigh.

“Go. Sit. I’ll bring you a plate,” he said as he released her with a light pat to her hip.

She did as he asked without complaint, and as he brought her food to her and sat next to her on the couch, he carefully logged her body language. Leg bouncing, hand pinching the bridge of her nose, head leaned back, a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth.

Dinner was a quiet affair, only the low sound of the television in the background breaking up the silence. Once they were finished, Simon took her plate and his back into the kitchen, then returned to his spot on the couch with an arm stretched across the back behind her head.

“Long day, pet?”

At first, he only received an affirmative grunt in response. He gave her time, gave her space to fill if she wanted to elaborate.

“Boss is driving me up a fucking wall,” she finally started. “Got too much on her plate and can’t keep up. I want to help, but I’m stuck doing two jobs as it is. Don’t have the time to take on any extra. So I sit and struggle to get through my own shit while she’s in her office bitching and moaning about ‘I can’t find this’ or ‘I don’t understand that’ and I have to listen to it. And all that’s on top of everything else going on that’s not work related. Feel like I’m getting pulled in a thousand different directions. Got a fucking headache, Simon.”

At some point during her rant, Simon’s hand had drifted down and he had begun to rub a thumb along the back of her neck.

“I’m not even getting decent sleep,” she mumbled.

“I know.”

By now, the tension had left her. Seeped from her lungs and drifted down through the carpet. All that was left was exhaustion.

“I feel bad for complaining,” she finally admitted. “It’s not like I’m getting shot at on the daily like… other jobs.”

“No,” Simon agreed, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t complain.”

She didn’t believe him. He knew she didn’t. In her mind, she was whining about office politics and a busy schedule to a man who was on leave from a job where being on the business end of a pack of explosives was a near daily risk. He knew from vast experience that there was little he could do to dissuade her on that front. So trying to cheer her up by affirming her need to vent was out of the question.

Simon was a man of many means, however.

“What do you call a pile of cats?”

She gave him a weary stare.

“...What.”

“A meowntain.”

Then, he caught it. Before she could hide it, a quirk of her lips, a grin that spread before her sour mood could dampen it.

“That was awful, Simon.”

“Another?”

She paused. Then she let a soft smile grace her features.

“...Yeah.”

“How do you count cows?”

“Uh… one, two, three, four?”

“No, with a cow-culator.”

This time, he received an approximation of a laugh from her. A puff of air through her nose, accompanied by a good-natured shake of her head.

“That one was even worse.”

“Made you smile though.”

She shifted closer to him, brought a hand up to his face, and pulled his face to her as she pressed her lips to his cheek in a gentle kiss.

“Yeah,” she murmured against his skin, “you did.”

Simon turned his head to nudge his forehead against hers as he closed his eyes. A quiet moment after a hurricane, a giving of permission to let go after holding on against the waves all day.

Tomorrow would be better. He’d make sure of it.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #idfk what tags to use so hopefully that's good enough #ghost scribbles

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ijumpbridges · 7 months

Text

Scp x Child!Reader

This is platonic, dont get yourself confuse.

Looking at all of you proshitters

(Ft. 035, 049, 073, 076, 682, Deleted Bright it can be found on wattpad, Dr Celf, Kondraki, Glass)

Scp 035:

'They good with kids, but don't let them babysit them"~

He is good kids, but bad a babysitting them.

One time he left in the middle of breach thinking you were behind him.

He hella freak out when he turned around and didn't see you.

But a good think is that he is really protective of you and othe scp kids too.

When he expires from a host he worries and tries to hurry you up to get a host because he really is scared something happening to you and not being able to protect you.

He is also a bit of a bad influence, he does stuff like curse infront of you which some of the foundation members dont like even though some of them do the same thing + plus sometimes treat you really shitty.

They kinda have like mood swings too sometimes, so there will be times that he doesn't feel in the mood of you either being around them, or not wanting to play with you or just someone to listen to him.

This doesn't happen a lot cuz you guys don't see each other a lot, but it rarely happens.

But still he is okey.

Scp 049:

Now, he is great with kids, but his problem is that he cannot control himself around you or other scp kids.

If you are immortal or you can regenerate you are fine, but if you are not then you are not safe with him.

Don't get me wrong he is really good with kids, but also cannot take care of them.

He is like 035 they spend some time with you, but can't stay long or babysit you.

Let's remember he goes crazy the moment someone, sniff, cough, sneeze, etc... And even if fall down and you are still fine he chases after.

Because he thinks something is wrong, and he needs to fix it, to cure it and he won't stop himself on doing so.

He will do it, he will try to fix you, but when he realizes he cannot do it himself he breaks down.

He sits in a corner crying because he did something bad to you he hurted you and it was the first time he did it.

He knows it isn't good and he feels bad about it.

Even if he harms you he still apologizes about it.

He is good with kids, he is also protective in a breach he would never leave you alone, might even lock you in his cell with him and other scp kids so nothing bad happens.

Overall he is good with kids, but cannot babysits them cuz he harms them.

Scp 073:

He is good kids and a good babysitter.

If you dont like vegetables you can purposely go near him and say that they got rotten.

He reads books to all of you.

Sometimes he lets all of you go out for a walk around the facility.

He keeps yall save too in case of a breach.

But his bad thing is that he cannot always be there for you.

You see even if Cain takes care of you, looks out for you, but he is never there, he is a busy man, cuz he does a lot of favors for the foundation to the point that your meetings end that you guys have.

If he doesn't know you at all he makes awkward conversations with you, but he slowly tries to make less awkward.

He tries his best on making a small connection with you.

But still isn't always there for you.

Scp 076:

No.

Just no.

Look, i cannot say he is good, but i cannot say he is bad with them i guess tries, but does not do a good job at it.

Let me remind y'all that he did hit scp 134 because of a fit of a rage, cuz she was too 'slow'. (Y’all don’t know how much i hate him for doing that)

So him with a kid is just no.

More cuz of his anger issues he causes a lot of breaches.

If he was with you, he wouldn't open up to you at all.

But he would definitely keep you and the other scp kids safe.

But if he is the one causing the breach he wont contain himself and might try to harm you himself.

And when he realizes this he will start avoiding all of you.

To the point that he sees you and he is like stray out leaving.

So yeah, not good at all.

Scp 682:

What kind of child are you to let this lizard just simoly leave you alone.

Cuz he is hostile to children, you must be someone hated like abby to be around him.

He would protect you and also causes breaches with you.

He isn't good, but he is patient i wouldn't say he is a good influence.

He doe and wilm manipulate to do some thing for him.

He tries to make a relationship with him and to make you go against the foundation.

Either way you don't get to see him a lot.

He also intimate you and more when he is mad.

You can ride his back and he lest you use him for playtime, like putting him a some nail polish on his... nose?

Overall this lizard will give you some trauma.

(Deleted Bright - it still can be found on my wattpad)

Dr. Clef:

He is in the middle.

He can be really good and really bad the same time.

Let me remind you that he killed 239.

So he has no mercy on you in case if he tries something.

Such as a cruel prank or simply kill you.

Babysitting is not his thing, he will try to carry you and will slip away from him.

And then he doesn't know what to do.

He will definitely leave you at a random corner.

Might not protect you.

Definitely do not trust this man.

He brings you a snack and levaes you in a safety zone.

Also bad influence.

Overall no, just no.

Dr. Kondraki:

He is okey with kids.

But babysitting them is a no-no.

You don't want an alcoholic taking care of you.

Even sober he cannot take care of you.

Although he would protect you from something happening to you.

When he is also drunk he asks you to buy him a tampon.

He does really dumb stuff when drunk.

He might even confuse you with anything that he grabs.

He could grab even air and think.

Had tried to give you alcohol.

"Last night at 10am i went to put on my shoes cuz i needed to go to the cafeteria to buy a sword, but them when i went in i remembered that they dont sell sheets so that's why the president is a robot"

Overall another no.

Dr. Glass:

He tries his best.

He is a good Caretaker.

Of course he is cuz he is a therapist and also a retired agent.

So, that mean he can keep you safe.

He will give you some activities to do.

He gives you some snacks.

He also tries to check on you too.

In a breach he is able to protect you.

He tries to engage with you.

But he will not tolerate an attitude.

So behave.

And i mean it.

He might seen sweet and kind, but he has a really bad side so behave.

Overall he really is good someone not to worry about in case of taking care of a child.

---

I feel kinda did this a little sad, while also listening to bimbo y2k music. Im living the best life.

#scp x reader #scp 035 x reader #scp 049 x reader #scp 073 x reader #scp 076 x reader #scp 682 x reader #dr clef x reader #dr kondraki x reader #dr glass x reader

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firehosebvck · 3 months

Text

I know. Guys, believe me, I know. Alright, now that we are ignoring my unintentional months-long hiatus, I come bringing a gift.

(I thought about also writing this scenario for another fandom that I’ve recently fixated on again. Say, the one with the two brothers and the gay angel. Let me know if you would want to see that.)

May also end up rewriting this one. Not sure if I like how it turned out.

So, here’s the scenario:

tw: creepy men in convenience stores

You and Aaron met years ago when you’d been finishing up law school and he’d still been a federal prosecutor. Somehow, the two of you strike up a conversation, and you offhandedly mention to him that you’re looking for work now that you’ve gotten your degree. He pauses for a moment, purses his lips, then says that he has a friend—a fellow prosecutor, you later find out—in search of a legal aide. He tells you that if you wanted him to, he could talk to his friend about setting up an interview. This takes you by surprise. A man that doesn’t even know you, a man that’s only talked to you for about five minutes, is offering to help you get a job. Aaron laughs when you tell him as much, and he tells you that over the years, he’s learned to trust his instincts, and his instincts are telling him that you’re worth the risk. He then hands you a card with his phone number on it and says to call him to set up the interview.

(No one but you has to know about the tiny zaps of electricity that shoot up your arm when you take the card from him. Nor do they have to know about the disappointment that simmers in your gut when you notice the gold band resting at the base of his left ring finger.)

For the first year or so, your friendship with Aaron was... difficult to navigate. Not because of anything he said or did but because of what he was. Aaron being a married man really limited what you felt comfortable doing within the boundaries of your budding friendship. You couldn’t text him as often as you’d like to because of the fight it could cause between Aaron and Haley. It’s for that same reason that you don’t feel comfortable inviting him to meet you for coffee or to grab a bite to eat after work. You know that you aren’t doing anything wrong, that your intentions with Aaron are pure, but you also respect his relationship enough to make certain that you don’t give Haley a reason to suspect otherwise. So, that means settling for sending him a text every now and then to check up on his family—not just him—and see how they were doing.

Less than two years into your friendship with Aaron, he tells you that he and Haley are getting a divorce.

(The giddy, child-like grin that spreads across your face when you hear the news makes you feel like shitty person. But you can’t help it.)

Aaron’s divorce serves as a blessing in disguise. Not just for you but for him, too. It gives the two of you a fresh start, a chance to properly develop your friendship without the fear of stirring up trouble for Aaron at home. You two texting maybe a couple of times a month quickly turns into you two texting nearly every day, even if you don’t really have anything to tell him about. Throughout the day, the two of you would send each other things that remind you of the other, random musings you’d have, just anything that would keep the conversation going. The most liberating thing about Aaron becoming a single man again was that you had the freedom to ask him if he wanted to grab coffee on the way into the office, even if he and the team wanted to grab drinks after a case, or if he and Jack wanted to come to the park near your apartment for a picnic.

Fast forward to the present, almost four years later.

It’s just after midnight on a random Saturday night, and Aaron’s just about to head to bed when he feels his phone buzz in the pocket of his sweats.

He mutters something along the lines of if this is another fucking case before he picks up his cell, puts it to his ear, and answers with a soft, sleepy, “Hotchner.”

“Hey, love. I know it’s late, but I was hoping we could meet up.” There’s something in your voice that feels off to Aaron, but he can’t quite put his finger on it.

His mind screeches to a halt when he processes what you say to him. Hey, love, you’d greeted him, the words coming out of your mouth like it was every-day thing. Like it was something you called him all the time.

That’s the first red flag.

“Y/N?” He asks. “Is everything alright? Are you alright?”

“No,” you laugh, a cute, breathy sound that wouldn’t be out of place to anyone else, to anyone that doesn’t know you the way Aaron does. That laugh sets off the alarm bells in the older man’s head. “No, I promise it’s nothing major. I just thought we could grab a snack.” You pause then say, “Oh, there’s a sale on those gummy bears you like at the convenience store on Fifth and Kennedy. Want me to get you some?”

Aaron doesn’t like gummy bears. You know that he doesn’t like gummy bears. Why would you—?

Aaron's body starts buzzing with adrenaline, like he got a shot of espresso straight to the head. The convenience store on Fifth and Kennedy. Aaron knows where that is; it’s only a couple of blocks from your apartment.

“Are you in danger?” He asks.

“Yeah,” you tell him. “I’ll just put it with my stuff. Don’t worry about it, love.”

“Do you need me to come to you?”

“Yes, baby, I’m sure. It’s not a problem at all. Oh, your sister mentioned something to me about coming to see her this weekend. She lives in New York now, right? How long do you think the drive will be?”

Aaron glances down at his watch. “I’m ten minutes from you. Stay out of sight until then, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” you agree. “It shouldn’t be too bad then, especially if we leave early enough. Hopefully, we won’t get caught up in the usual weekend traffic.” You huff out something between a laugh and a tired sigh. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. I love you.” Then, the call ends. Biting out a curse, Aaron slips on his running shoes, grabs his zip-up and his keys, and rushes out the door.

Under normal circumstances, it takes Aaron roughly ten minutes to get to your apartment. That night, it takes him a little under five. He zips through the late-night Virginia traffic at speeds he’s surprised he didn’t get pulled over for. He haphazardly parks the SUV before making his way to the store.

He doesn’t even have to go into the store to find you. You’re standing just outside the double doors when he gets there, your figure illuminated by the harsh LED lights overhead.

“Y/N,” he calls to you, his steps hurrying into a jog. “Y/N, are you alright?”

You lift your head up to meet his gaze, and he watches you blink at him, as if you’re surprised that he came. “You came,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You needed me,” he says. And that’s all that matters. “You’re okay now?”

You nod. “The guy ran as soon as the kid behind the counter threatened to call the cops. He didn’t do anything, but I just... something about him weirded me out.”

“Trust your instincts,” he tells you, like the night you’d first met. “They’re usually right.”

“The night we met, you said that your instincts were telling you that I was worth the risk. Were they right?”

With as much confidence as he has in you, which is a lot, he says, “They were. You’re worth the risk.”

tagging: @greg-montgomery @ssamorganhotchner @ssahotchnerr @ssaaaronmontgomery @canuck-eh @wifeyreid @criminalskies @luvehotch @strawbeerossi @hotchs-big-hands @hotchs-babygirl @hotchnerobsessed @honeypiehotchner @hotchnerbau @hotchsdoormat @hotchsdharma @mrs-ssa-hotch @hotchandspencearedilfs

#e posts #e writes #e tags #e’s moots #e’s scenarios #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader

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