#having never been a fucking line cook is gonna also make me kill.
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i wanna quit my job so bad holy shit
#serving rich people fucking tea parties all day while i die inside is what’s gonna make me finally kill.#being treated like i’m a moron for ringing customers up for exactly what they ask for instead of automatically knowing line cook protocol -#having never been a fucking line cook is gonna also make me kill.#what’s so fucking difficult about someone ordering their eggs slightly over medium. i got treated like a fucking idiot for ringing that up#for someone today when they specifically asked me to make sure their egg was cooked SPECIFICALLY like that. like just fucking cook it over#medium and then make sure the yolk is slightly more firm but not to the point of being over hard jesus fucking christ????#i hate working in food service and being treated like i’m stupid when all we’re doing is making fucking food. it’s not that important.
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Braised
Line Cook Eddie x Barista Reader
Summary: A long day at work leads to a long night in Eddie’s bedroom.
A/N: woof. I started this back in March? Took me this long to come back to it but I like it. Nay, love it because line cook Eddie is my boyfriend. Also, I need @newlips to know this has lived in my head since January and is the inspiration for this. It’s literally just….so so so much smut.
Warnings: Slight somnophilia (listen you had a long day and he’s got a great mouth), sex, drug use (not for the somno)
18+ NSFW No Minors
“Eddie, I’m really tired.” You giggle when his mouth finds the back of your neck.
“Yeah but I think I found some more syrup back here. Mhm, yep another sweet spot.” He rakes his hands into your hair to pull it up gently so he can get at more skin. It tickles, makes you scrunch your nose at the feel of his lips pecking around.
“Seriously Ed, I’m not gonna be much fun tonight.” It’s not that you didn’t want to fuck around, it was that it had been a Sunday From Hell. You’d shown up to his apartment a sticky mess, a new bleach stain on your favorite work jeans. He’d done nothing but smile and take your bag and usher you off to his bathroom, tossing in one of his big bath towels behind you and promising to have dinner ready when you were done.
Since then, he’d somehow convinced you to sit on his bed with him when you’d gotten out.
You gotta plug your phone in why don’t you sit down I’m sure your feet are killing you let me rub them for you oh why don’t you let me get that knot out of your back no seriously just lay down I’ll give you a little massage no I’m not getting fresh calm down.
You’d gotten comfortable, lightly dozing in the middle of his bed while he made sure the knot in your back never showed up again.
“Feel better?”
You nod and sigh dreamily. He’s shifted up from the edge of the bed to straddling your hips, bent over your back to whisper in your ear. “I can make you feel even better if you want.” He dances his fingers down to run along the edge of the towel.
“Eddie…”
“What if you just lay there huh? Let me take care of you.” He says quietly.
You were tired. You were sore. However the shower had worked a minor miracle and the growing bulge pushed against your ass was changing your mind by the minute. You pretend to contemplate, rolling your head back and forth on the back of your hand that’s propped up under your chin.
“And you’re making me dinner?”
“And I’m making us dinner.”
You shrug lightly. “Can’t complain if I fall asleep.”
“Scouts honor. I’ll leave you alone if you fall asleep.”
“Well I didn’t say that.” You mumble in your skin. His weight shifts forward, planting his hands next to your head. He hovers over you and chuckles. “Are you being a freak?”
“…Maybe. What constitutes a freak?”
“Talkin’ about me fucking you while your asleep’ll do it.”
The towel is the first thing to go, Eddie’s fingers sliding between the terrycloth and your shower warmed skin. It’s pulled free and flung towards the bathroom door, the chill air hitting your clammy skin for only a moment before his big frame is back on you, knees around your hips and hands planting beside your elbows. Your cheek upturned, he leans down to give you a kiss.
“You’re real sweet on me, huh?” You mumble. Out of the corner of your eye you can see the flash of a smile before he dives back down to kiss a trail from your face to your shoulder all the while slowly grinding his hips into you.
“You could say that.” He spends a while on light touches, pulling quite sighs out of you while you relax further into the comforter. You think you might actually be falling asleep when you realize he’s stopped touching you. He gets off the bed for a minute to rearrange and grab his other pillow. He kneels beside you again and taps your hip. When you don’t make a move he grabs you, fingers digging in enough to make you laugh.
“Don’t tickle me!”
“Then move!” The smile is evident in his voice even though you can’t see his face. He jostles you again and you turn your hip up off the bed.
“No, lift your hips up, like-forget it.” He leaves the pillow and yanks you up by the waist, making you tuck your knees up under you to stay up right. He makes a pleased sound and smooths his palm over the curve of your ass.
“You just gonna stare all night?”
“I could.” He says quietly. His finger traces light lines up the back of your thigh and you can feel the heat slowly creeping its way across your hips. It reaches out towards the lingering feeling of his palms pulling you up, where his fingertips had dug in. You were getting used to him moving you around however he wanted, liked it a lot even, just not sure how to ask for it yet. He pulls you out of your thoughts when he tucks the folded over pillow under you and gently pushes you back down.
“Relax.” He coos at you from above. His palm is warm against your ankle where he pulls a little to help you straighten your leg out. Tugs your other leg straight and then settles himself between your knees.
“Eddie-“ Turning your head over your shoulder is a deep stretch, and with your ass in the air slightly you can barely make out his hand hovering near his mouth and his dimples. He tilts his head over so you can actually see him.
“Hey that doesn’t look comfortable or relaxing.” He swats at one cheek, just fingertips, admonishing you. Tucking your chin back to the pillow you hide your smile in the silk. “You trust me, right?” He’s asking you, sincerity laced in his quiet words. You nod your head yes but he makes a sound in the back of his throat. “Tell me?”
“Yeah.” A little breathless, only because he keeps stealing it from you with these kinds of acts. “Of course.” You do. It’s been a few months of actual dating and every time he’s asked it’s been yes (vehemently yes) and still he asks. It’s not like he’s moved on to suspending you from the ceiling, but it makes you a little morose for all the times other people didn’t check in, didn’t ask after simple things.
“Hey.” He gives your thigh a gentle squeeze. He’s gotten so good at reading you, can see when you immediately start to get lost in that maze of thought again. “I can leave you alone.”
“Don’t…don’t leave. I am having fun.” You shift just a little so he can see the side of your face, hair pushed back so he can see your eye glinting in the lamp light. “I mean it.” His dimples match your grin and when his weight shifts up you can feel the smile pressed against your shoulder where he places a kiss. He litters your back with them, going down your arms till he can’t reach them tucked under your cheek. He lays them up your neck until he can feel the tension bleeding away. Plants a big obnoxious one on your cheek, one that gets you to scrunch up your nose again. He runs his hands in between the spaces he misses, fingernails leaving little pink lines down your back, lines that fade after a second. He’s trying to get you back in that relaxed state you were in. Post shower and dewy and looking like a water nymph lounging on his bed.
He’s at your hip, hovering over the black lines of the tattoo there. Breathe hot where it’s trapped between your skin and his face. He runs his hands down the outside of your thighs and back up. Steadies himself while he stretches out between your legs. He shifts around to lean on his elbows, watches the goosebumps fan out and over your skin. You’re good and sunk into the bed so he leans forward and slowly bites down on your left cheek.
Your leg kicks up next to him. “Eddie!” A high pitched squeal of his name makes him laugh around the mouthful of you. He keeps an eye on your face and rests his wrist on the pillow, knuckle barely grazing your pussy. Your hips shift slightly under his mouth and he lets go, admiring the imprints of his teeth before running his tongue over it. Inches his hand up on the pillow enough to slide his finger between between your lips, wasting no time in finding your clit. Circles it slow in tight circles, your sigh loud in his quiet room when he finally touches you how you’ve been wanting him to. He likes watching you like this, soft and relaxed. Knows he’s doing his job at keeping you out of that thought trap when your hips chase his touch. He rests his head momentarily on your ass, the quiet chuckle from you cut off when he slides his finger up and brushes over your entrance. You clench against him gently prodding, canting your hips back to chase his hand when he goes still.
“Hold on.” You hear the wet sound of his mouth and then feel the momentary cool touch of his spit slick finger going in slow until he hits his knuckle. The moan caught in your chest is dislodged when he flutters the fingers of his other hand over your sensitive bud and crooks his finger deep inside you.
“Is that good?”
A slight nod of your head and then a sharp gasp when he spreads you open with two fingers and spits, fingers working to spread it around. “You like it when I make a mess of you?” Another nod, he can see where you’re fisting the pillow under your head, but that’s not what he wants. “Hey.” Firm but gentle, he gets your attention.
“Fuck, yes Eddie please…” You run out of words when he slips another finger in, both now rubbing up against that soft spot inside. He’s taking his time, both hands working at a torturous pace and making you squirm around the bed.
“Told you I’d take care of you.”
“I never doubted you.” You gasp into your hand. He said he’d wanted you to relax but this is having the opposite effect. Between him nibbling on the cuff of your ass and taking his sweet time fingering you, it’s no wonder you’re pulling taut around him. You kick your leg up and try to squeeze at him, trying to keep him in place even though you couldn’t pay him to move.
Eddie speaks lowly. Hushed tones accentuated by the sound of you, wet made wetter from him sneaking his tongue in with his fingers.
“Been waiting all day for this.” His nose brushes along your folds when he replaces his fingers with his tongue. Goosebumps explode over the backs of your thighs when his now free hand lays over your lower back to pin you to the pillow.
“Taste so sweet for me.” He licks a wide tongue from your aching clit to your entrance, tip of his tongue dipping in to taste.
“Eddie I swear…”
“What?” He licks his thumb, pausing for second before gliding it over the tight ring of your ass. A gasp and your legs tightening around him make him look up at you. Your hands gripping the pillow, mouth hung open on a gasp tell him everything.
“You like that?” Another long lick over your center pulls a groan out of you and Eddie is done asking questions. He makes a mess out of you, wet sounds drowned out by your whining and moaning. You babble about his mouth and how good it feels and Eddie preens, doubles down and presses just a little bit more with his thumb. He flicks his tongue over your clit and when you squeeze him between your thighs he speeds up.
He’s been achingly hard since he started this little venture, grinding his hips into the bed with every one of your moans and as much as he enjoys taking you apart like this, he can barely wait to sink into you.
You chant his name when he sucks your clit and your hands look for purchase in the pillow and the sheets. The tremble in your legs barely starts before your pulled tight all around him, low groan from deep in your chest punched out by the rapid flick of his tongue. You’re just off the edge, orgasm rolling through while you huff into the pillow trying to catch your breath when Eddie hauls up. Distantly you hear his clothes hit the floor and he’s between your legs again, cock laying heavy on your ass.
“I take it back.”
“Take what back?” You’re floating in clouds made out of his bed.
“I’ve been waiting all day for this.” He strains out while pulling his hips back and slowly grazing lower and lower till the head of his cock catches and he pushes in. You both groan in unison and he takes his time fully filling you.
“Fuck baby, so fuckin’ wet for me.”
You can’t do much but lay there in awe, boneless and relaxed and letting Eddie do whatever it was he wanted.
“Feel so good for me.” He drags his hips back slow and pushes back in slow and keeps talking low and slow and he’s got you in a trance. Nodding along and agreeing, keening and whining when he pushes right into that perfect spot.
“If you keep doing that I’m gonna cum again.”
“What, this?” He gives a little more on that thrust. “Not yet you aren’t.” He grabs your ass, one hand on either side to use as leverage in this game of torture he’s playing. He lets a line of spit fall from his lips between you two and resumes his previous activity of sliding his thumb over your ass.
“You are a dirty girl.” He teases when you push your hips back into him. “Want me to fuck your ass?” He’s so full of himself, with every right to be. You nod under him, a silent ‘oh’ on your lips.
“Of course you, I’d take such good care of you.” Eddie babbles at the back of your head to try to distract himself. Every ridge and bump slides along his length and sends him closer to the edge and every lurch forward he pauses, not wanting this to be over.
It’s only when he makes you arch your back and he drives down into you that he starts to falter, your second orgasm taking you both by surprise.
“Oh shit, Eddieeddieddie!” You chant his name and push your hips back to keep him inside and Eddie thinks he might just fucking die tonight.
You’re out, hands falling limply beside your head and mouth hanging open. He’s not sure he’s ever seen you so blissed out.
“Oh my god.” Even with you floating off, your pussy grips him, fluttering around his cock in the aftermath of your own orgasm. He’d been playing a game with himself, just as much as with you but he’s nearing the end of his own limits. A thin line of sweat trickles down his back and his nerves are on fire. He holds you open so he can watch where he sinks into you but there’s a faltering in his rhythm. He curses and grips the globes of your ass, nails digging half moons into your skin.
You feel good, you always feel so good and he’s lost his train of thought. Stuck on the wet sucking of your pussy and the soft fat under his hands. He reached his goal in getting you relaxed, so much so that you’ve gone limp under him, little grunts of pleasure when he hits particularly deep. He can let go but he doesn’t want to, this impromptu edging he’s been after slowly killing him and making his eyes roll.
“So fucking good for me, yeah?”
You barely nod, too busy drooling into the pillow to give him a real answer.
“God I love the way-oh fuck honey, do that again!” You flex around his cock and Eddie’s hips stutter before he decides ‘fuck it’. He punches his hips fast and holds you down to keep you in place. Your grunts turn into moans and you scratch at the pulled up bedding, looking for something to hold on to. He fucks you right until it’s almost a mistake, pulls out and paints your back in hot lines, a pained groan vibrating in his chest while he pumps his twitching cock.
He can feel you trembling under him while he tries to catch his breath. One hand holding his softening cock while the other rubs up your leg and over your side.
“That was fucking beautiful baby.”
A slight chuckle from you and he leans over you to nose at the side of your face. “You okay?”
“Uh huh.”
“You don’t have a single worry in that pretty little head, do you?”
“Nuh uh.”
“Good.” He peppers a few kisses against your cheek and you smile lazily.
“I’m gonna go get a towel okay?”
You raise a weak thumbs up and he gives your ass a slap on the way off the bed.
In the time it takes him to find a towel and come back into the bedroom, you’re out fully this time. He lets his eyes wander over your body, moulded into his bed. The slow rise and fall of your back as you slip deeper into sleep and he shakes himself out of his poetic waxing to clean you up before it becomes a problem.
You only stir a little when the cloth hits your skin but Eddie is done quickly, ditching it in favor of tracing light shapes over your back. He smirks at the short red marks along your back where he’d hung on for dear life and it’s only the timer on the stove that’s able to pull him out of his memories, lest he burn the apartment complex down.
“Hey.”
You stir, pulled gently out of your nap. Eddie is crouched beside the bed with his chin hooked on the mattress, watching you blink blearily at him. “Dinner’s ready.”
“Did I fall asleep?” You ask, stretching under the comforter that he must have pulled up over you.
“Like, immediately. Got that NyQuil dick, what can I say?” His laugh shakes the bed when you smack his shoulder lightly.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Much easier to get you under the covers.” He gives you a quick kiss before standing up and holding out your pajamas to you. “You can eat dinner naked if you want, but there’s sauce involved.” He tilts head though and hums. “On second thought don’t, I can help you clean that up.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you and you snatch your clothes out of his hand. Sliding out of bed you march into the bathroom while he whistles after you.
“Jesus christ this is so good.” You say around a mouthful of food. Eddie grins into his fork, cheeks hot with his oncoming blush.
“Yeah?”
You shoot him a look daring him to pick apart his meal. “I’ve never had a turnip before. This is heavenly.”
“Never?”
“No! Especially not whipped!”
He watches you shove a forkful of charred broccolini into your mouth and pretend cry. “I really thought the ribs were gonna win but it’s this fucking broccoli.”
“Broccolini.” He corrects, gently. You roll your eyes and mutter sorry while you dig around your plate.
While earlier had be a spectacular beginning of the night, this is what he looks forward to the most, when he gets to stretch his wings and try new things with dinner for the two of you. Your face always lights up and is swiftly followed by a low growl of ‘oh my fucking god’ when you get first taste. You have yet to give him any critique outside of asking why he was buying you treats instead of making them.
“Eddie, I’m not kidding, this is the best thing you’ve made thus far.” You run your finger around the edge of your plate, gathering up the left over wine sauce. He watches your tongue lap it up off your finger and then watches your tongue glide along the edge of your wine glass, collecting the few remaining drops, momentarily wishing he was a piece of drink ware. “So, question.” You set your glass down pointedly.
“Answer?”
“When are you gonna let me take care of you?” You give him warm look, bottom lip tucked between your teeth.
“You can totally make dinner whenever-“
“No, that’s not all I mean.” You slide off the barstool and round the corner of the counter to where he’s sitting. You lean your whole body into him, hands toying with the loose curl from his clipped back hair. “You always take care of me. If it isn’t dinner it’s in there,” you gesture over your shoulder to his bedroom with your thumb, “or it’s paying for my nails, or taking me on dates. When do I get to do that for you?”
Eddie sighs and looks down at his plate. He doesn’t want an argument to spool out of this. You’ve touched on it before and every time gotten a little defensive about him always spending his money.
“I get joy out of your joy.”
“Okay, and I’d get joy from taking you out once in a while.”
He can see the resolve in your look, the slight pinch of your eyebrows and it’s been too good of a night. “Alright. Later,” he gives you a look, “we’ll talk about you paying for my nails okay?” He can’t get through without laughing and you push him, grinning. He stands and wraps you up tight in a hug, lips buried in your hair next to your ear. “Seriously, I promise. I’ll think of something.”
“Now though, I want to go out on that balcony and smoke that stupid little pink joint you rolled yesterday.” He points toward the door and you huff into his neck.
“It’s not stupid! The papers had little cherry blossoms on them!”
On the balcony Eddie sits in one of the folding chairs while you drag a pillow out with you to sit between his knees. You both sit in silence, passing the joint back and forth and scrolling through your phones. You hold it up for him when you find a funny video and he runs his fingers through your hair between passes. He stops paying attention to whatever he’s reading when you lay your head against his thigh and place a little kiss on the inside of his knee. You’re engrossed in some article, mindlessly nuzzling into Eddie’s leg and he has to take a deep, shuddering breath.
It’s balmy out, a quick breeze pushing through every so often. He’s full of good food and good wine and good weed, the smell of dinner and your perfume filling the air. Your hair is soft under his hand, a small hum from you when he scratches his nails against your scalp. Eddie has to stop himself, has to bite his tongue from blurting it out. It’s only been two months of on paper dating but he knows it in his gut, deep in his bones.
It’s love in the way you loosely wrap your arm around his calf. Love in the way he gets excited to go to the grocery store with you. Love in the way you sigh under him almost every night of the week.
“You okay?” You rest your chin on his thigh, looking up at him. “You got kind of quiet.”
“I-“ he looks anywhere but your eyes, wide and shining in the light filtering up from the parking lot. “I really like you.”
Your smile makes his insides melt. “I really like you too Eddie.”
He feels like a coward, like is leagues away from how he feels but it’s what he’s sticking to. He doesn’t want to send you fleeing out the front door, not when it’s been a basically perfect night. “I really like spending time with you…like this.” He circles his finger around and you laugh, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh I’m sure you do.” You turn around to face him, kneeling on the pillow and running your hands up under his shirt. Your fingers tickle on their way up to rest on his sides. He leans forward to give you a kiss before you lay your cheek against his sternum. He knows there’s no way you can’t hear his heart kicking up, can feel your hands tighten on him and your sigh through the thin cotton.
There’s a rumble of an old Chevy and Eddie watches Jeff pull through the front gate. He’s only got a few more minutes with you like this before his roommate comes in, but it’ll be enough. Hand cradled against your neck, holding you to him he thinks about all the love just under your cheek and hopes maybe you’ll feel it, even if he can’t say it yet.
(Sacrifice for the read more)
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TSC CHAPTER ELEVEN SPOILERS AHEAD
STARTING OFF THE CHAPTER STRONG AS FUCK DISASTER BISEXUAL JEAN MOREAU AWARENESS
picturing jean in a pair of raybans is good for my mental health
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“Missed a couple spots. Need a hand?”
jeremy u flirt
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do the trojans ever realise that jean is NOT IN FACT deaf and standing right in front of them when they are talking about him?
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oh ok so chapter 11 is in fact worse than chapter 10
if anyone reading this has ever believed that they deserved the abuse, trauma/suffering they’ve experienced, i’m here to tell u right now that nobody deserves that and it is not ever ur fault, no matter what others might say or try to convince u. whatever happened to u is unequivocally not ok. please seek help from a professional if u are worried about urself or others in ur life.
if u have ever felt uncomfortable or violated in certain situations just know that no matter how ‘big’ or ‘small’ the situation may seem (i use these terms loosely because i do not believing in ranking peoples traumas), ur feelings are 100% valid and u always always deserve to be respected and heard.
i hope u know that u are not alone and never will be.
sending lots of love to all of u
-
wtff jenkins is a girl?? did we all know this or have i just read too many fanfics always thought jenkins was a guy?
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It was sacrilegious even in the privacy of his head, and Jean hunched his shoulders against a blow that never came.
fuck that’s a good line. traumatic as fuck and makes me wanna cry for all these boys have gone through but god as an ex-catholic raised queer person i can tell u this line struck hard even though i cant relate to the specifics of the scene
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Jean didn’t mind cooking, but he didn’t say that. This was the first time his room truly felt safe and right, and he was content to hold onto it for as long as he could. He closed his eyes again, but now his thoughts were snagged on Jeremy. At length he broke the silence to say, “Two beds would fit in here.”
jean moreau u are so loved
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“You are not them,” Jean said. “Kevin would not have sent me here if you were.”
THE PARALLELS IN THIS BOOK ARE FUCKING KILLING ME PLS NORA LET ME LIVE IN PEACE THIS IS TOO MUCH FOR ME TO HANDLE
ANDREIL EXISTS IN EVERYTHING
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Just because he had to meet with this man didn’t mean he had to speak to him.
jean, u diss aaron earlier in the books but really ur just the same as him
-
betsy dobson to the mother fuckibg rescue someone get this bitch a ‘worlds best therapist’ mug
and jean, dude do u know how fucking similar u and neil are, seriously like u guys should be besties like-
“It was not my choice,” he sent back in warning. “I do not need counseling.” He didn’t trust her at all, but there was no point spelling it out.
CHAPTER TWELVEE
dude wtf is it with me and napping while tryna finish this book, literally just accidentally fell asleep for 2.5 hrs when i could’ve been reading
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“Imagine getting changed so we can practice,” Jean said.
king is fed uppp
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“It’s not about size, anyway.” “Defensive,” Jean said, tugging his glove straps with his teeth. Jeremy straightened in indignation. “I don’t have anything to be defensive about.” Jean lost his grip and bit his lip, and Jeremy hurried on before either of them could think too much about that double entendre.
OKKKK JEREMY I SEE U
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“That’s not—I do care. I want you to play with us, and I want you to have fun again. I want to see what you can do on the court and what you bring to our defense line. I want us to finally win this year after coming so close and failing too many times. But it’s just a game, Jean. Your safety and happiness will always be more important than our season.”
GOOD GOD ITS WHAT U DESERVE JEAN
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“Every time you say that you take a year off my life. I’d really like to live to ninety, so please knock it off.”
now the trojans understand how the foxes feel when neil whips out his ‘im fine’ line,, also i’m never gonna stop saying that neil and jean should be besties it’s literally just a fact
“I do not believe you when you are drinking such filth,” Jean said, with a disapproving look toward her drink. Laila stared him down as she sucked a long gulp through the straw,
this book is so devastatingly depressing and explores some of the most horrible traumatic things that could happen to a person but it’s interspersed with some of the funniest scenes that it gives me whiplash
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“Pat and Ananya have wanted to fuck Cody’s brains out for almost a year now. I really thought Cody moving in with them this summer was going to finally get that ball moving, but apparently not. It’s getting kind of pitiful.” “Pat and Ananya have been engaged almost as long as Cody has known them,” Laila pointed out as she fit herself against Cat’s side. “You can’t blame Cody for being scared of where they might belong in something like that.”
NORA GIVING US THE POLYAMORY WE DESERVE AFTER CUTTING KANDREIL FROM THE OG BOOKS LETS GO QUEER REP
YK THAT RUNNING JOKE THAT USC IS THE QUEEREST TEAM AND NOBODY HAS AS MANY GAYS AS THEY DO??? IM SO FUCKIBG HAPPY NORA HAS BASICALLY MADE THAT CANNON
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CHAPTER 13333
jeremy is so hopelessly crushing on jean and that’s real of him
meanwhile jean:
Threat assessment, he told himself, and it was almost the truth.
sureee buddy
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They’d arrived holding hands and dressed in matching cream-and-teal outfits. Even their gold-rimmed sunglasses and teal sneakers were identical.
well that is definitely an outfit!
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“Speaking of happy endings, has Laila bought you a sex toy yet?”
EXCUSE ME
this whole scene was so fucking random but jean deserves great friendships
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ANOTHER TRANS TROJAN LETS FYCKING GOOOOOO CONGRATS ON UR TOP SURGERY XAVIER
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‘i’m sure the ravens wouldn’t have taken neil in if they’d known he was the son of a mob boss!!’
uhhhhh…
i don’t know how to tell u this buddy
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dude i just cannot stop think about the whole new world of fanfics we’re gonna get now that tsc has come out like the aftg universe is expanding and becoming more detailed it’s gonna be crazy
chapter 14!!!
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Jean eyed him. “For what purpose?” Jeremy looked to the ceiling for patience. “For fun.” Jean sighed as if Jeremy was the one being unreasonable.
oh jean we’ll get there eventually
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Jean was a starving dog on a short chain who’d learned years ago not to bite back.
OH MY FUCKING GOD GIVE ME PEACE
MY CHEST IS ACHING AT THIS METAPHOR
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SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP THE PARALLELS ARE DESTROYING ME I CANT FUCKING TAKE IT ANYMORE
“You are Jean Moreau. Your place is here with me, with us. I’m your captain. You’re my partner. We’re supposed to be doing this together, aren’t we? Stop leaving me behind. Look at me.”
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“I’m sorry. I’m sorry that he hurt you, I’m sorry that you’re still afraid to talk about it, and I’m sorry that you think I’ll never understand. I’m sorry that he tricked you into thinking you deserved it. But I’m not sorry he’s gone. I can’t be.”
“Neither am I.”
TEAR MY HEART OUT AND STOMP ON IT NORA JESUS CHRIST
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everytime one of the trojans says ‘we’re here to listen whenever your ready to talk and open up to us’ and then they go and demand he tell them every secret he’s ever kept
-
kevin and jeans relationship in this book is so fucking well written, it’s tearing me apart and giving me so much life
they have so much shared trauma and the relationship is so complex but they understand eachother so deeply
He is not used to having a voice, and he has never had power. I cannot promise he will ever talk to you.” “I will wait as long as it takes,”
“Be careful with it,” Kevin said. “Be careful with him.”
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“Night practices with Andrew and Neil,” Kevin said. “Obsessed,” Jeremy
exy fiend kevin day representation
also
“No, Jean is fine. As fine as he can be, anyway. Yes, I know.” (kevin when talking to someone ‘offscreen’) i just know he was talking to neil
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She crossed the room and leaned over, catching Jean’s head in her hands so she could plant a kiss to the top of his head.
this is the love jean deserves
chapter 15:
“Your fourth line has a smart mouth, Coach,” Jean said. “I was hoping he would bite his tongue off in the fall and save us both some grief in the long run.”
jean i love u
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Jean wished he had the common sense to shut up,
he’s so me
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“And keep Kevin’s name out of your ignorant mouth,”
THEYRE SO IMPORTANT TO ME UR HONOUR
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i keep forgetting that jean only learnt english after he moved into evermore and that kevin probably taught him but i love the subtle little reminders every now and then when he has to clarify a word, like when he has to ask what a ‘floozy’ is and:
due to egregious injuries.” Jean didn’t recognize that word, but since Lucas was already running his mouth, he didn’t get a chance to ask.
it’s such a good detail that just adds so much more depth to his character
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“Permission to break his face, Coach?” Jean asked. “Denied,” White said.
SCREAMING
THIS IS SO NEIL AND WYMACK CODED I LOVE IT
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JEAN MOREAU ON A MOTHERFUCKING MOTORCYCLE HOLY SHIT
catalina alvarez u wonderful human i love u
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jean realising how big the world is and the fact that he’s explored more of california than any other place he’s been before is making me tear up he never should’ve been kept trapped inside he deserves to see the world
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So long as she existed as fractured memories, she was safe and small and sheltered.
oh god don’t do this to me
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Jean gazed out at the endless horizon, feeling small and infinite from one moment to the next.
beautiful, just beautiful, absolutely immaculate
A cool evening breeze. Rainbows. Open roads.
A COOL EVENING BREEZE. RAINBOWS. OPEN ROADS
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SECOND LAST CHAPTER!!! LETS GOOO
“He is not going to hit you. Okay? We don’t do that here. You said you’d try to do better and that’s enough for us.”
starting off strong
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You’re one of my kids now.
don’t mind me i’m just sobbing
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no no no no no no no no no
holy shit no what the fucking fuck
don’t do this to jean rn oh my fucking god i’m sick to my stomach on the verge of fully crying right now
actually dreading reading on right now
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um ok yeah so i read it and to anyone who hasn’t finished the book yet beware there is a graphic violent scene followed by an intense panic attack in chapter 16 that’s is very difficult to read
i did cry and all i can say is thank fuck for lisinski’s timing
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Jeremy’s response was low but unhesitating: “I will not look away.” “I do not want you to look.” It frightened him how much it sounded like a lie,
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only redeeming part of this chapter is that neil’s back but i’m still in so much shock over what’s just happened that i cant properly appreciate him
chapter 17 the finale:
feeling incredibly somber as i reach the end of the book
please god destroy anyone who has ever hurt jean moreau
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nora’s really filling in all the plot holes left from aftg - why did nobody question why neil’s hair was dyed after evermore ????? why did nobody question neil being at evernote in the first place???
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i’m laughing at neil’s map print-outs he’s so uncool, also i keep forgetting this is still meant to be 2007
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jean-yves moreau oh my fucking god
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“says who?” Stuart asked. “The dead kid?
stuart hatford u are so funny, is this where neil inherited is sarcasm from?
stuart hatford says fuck riko and so do i
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Neil shrugged. “Do you have anyone who can take on local work?”
NEIL JOSTEN U ARE MY HERO I LOVE U U BADASS MOTHER FUCKER
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Neil offered her a disarming smile that would never sit quite right on his face.
devouring these scraps about my boy
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YOOOO WTF NORA RLLY JUST WANTED TO GIVE JEAN THE WORST FUCKING DAY HE COULD POSSIBLY HAVE HUH?? JUST DROPPED THE FACT THAT HIS SISTER IS DEAD MY POOR BOY
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Neil filled in the finer details with an ease that would have been impressive to listen to any other day
- yes neil is incredibly smart, thank u jean for confirming to us
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The only thing left to ask for was something he barely understood: “I want to go home.”
oh the complicated nature of home and one’s sense of belonging that persists throughout these books will never fail to make me feel absolutely everything. nora knows exactly what i want in a book
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“I can see the kitchen. There should be a door out to where the dumpsters are. We can make it back to the garage from there.”
to be loved by neil josten is to be offered a way to evade the fbi together
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“Tedious,” Neil said. “I’m trying to eat.”
my hero
Neil waited until he was done before deciding he wanted to finish his drink. Neither agent was impressed with their absolute lack of urgency,
i love u neil josten pls give me ur autograph
Neil, being the person he was, pointed at the fire hydrant adjacent to its front bumper and said, “That’s illegal, just so you know.” “Shut up and get in the car.”
i wish neil josten was real
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He couldn’t fear a government who was so easily infiltrated and manipulated
FUCK THE GOVERNMENT
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Neil flipped his takeout box open and started eating. “I’m allowed to visit people.”
he’s everything to me 🥰
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“You’re one to accuse others of intolerable attitudes,” Browning said, and Neil only shrugged indifference.
and—for once—without any of your usual bullshit.”
- browning u love him just like the rest of us don’t lie rn
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ngl i’m never getting over the fact that jean and neil are the same age like this is crazy to me nora whyd u have to do this i cant cope
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“The more people I hold onto, the less of a threat I am, because I won’t want to endanger them by acting out.”
oh neil look how far uve come, i’m so proud
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“Lock your door tonight if it will help, but Grayson will never bother you again.”
THANK U LORD FOR THE BRILLIANT NEIL JOSTEN HES ANSWERED MY PRAYERS U BEAUTIFUL WONDERFUL HUMAN IM SO THANKFUL FOR UR PRESENCE
all my favourite bamf! neil fics have him taking out a hit on someone for the benefit of the people he loves and i’m so glad that’s canon
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i’m going fucjing crazy i didnt think it was possible to love neil anymore than i already do
best friends ❤️
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jean tearing up and throwing away the notebooks and realising he trusts the trojans and the four of them going to eat one of cats new recipes after they waited up last midnight for him
A COOL EVENING BREEZE RAINBOWS OPEN ROADS AND FRIENDS
!!!!!
I CSNT BELIEVE ITS OVERRRRR I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS HOLY FUCK
#aftg#all for the game#tsc#tsc spoilers#the sunshine court#jean moreau#jerejean#jeremy knox#catalina alvarez#laila dermott#neil josten#david wymack#stuart hatford#nora sakavic
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Mae's Yandere Thought of The Week 18+
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After months of hiding away from the end of the world with your neighbour - now friend- you are heartbroken when he demands a reward for the hard work of looking after you
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Pairing: Male oc x female! reader
18+
MINORS DNI
tw: female reader, betrayal, the male character is a dick, implied smut, just generally not nice stuff, discussion of sex and sa. discussion of sex work in a bad light
notes: Original drabble is here, this is just a follow-through. Also I tried to add more dialogue then i usually do
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"I'm only asking for one night." He huffed "It's not like I'm asking you to be my wife"
You stared at him in disbelief. Betrayal ate away at your skin.
"How does that make any of this better?" you snarked, eyebrows narrowing in annoyance. Of course, you had to go and trust some pathetic loser.
"C'mon! It's the least you could do. You do fuck all around here anyway. I just want a little incentive that's all" he said as if it was a normal and done thing to demand sex from your neighbour-turned-survival buddy.
"I do fuck all? I tend the garden! I sew our clothes! I cook our meals!! I fix all the shit you mess up!" you growled standing to full height from your place on your bed.
"That's not real work sweetheart. Who hunts? who goes for days trying to scavage for parts? Who puts his life on the line every single day while you sit here like Snow fucking White's cottagecore fever dream? Who has killed for you? Who protects you from all the other men who would be more than happy to tie you down and fuck you like the whore you are" he scoffed
"Don't call me that! I'm not a whore, you don't get to just call me that to belittle me! And I shouldn't have to pay you back for the things you freely do for me, if I had known you wanted something for it I would never, never have gone with you. You've been manipulating me from the start!" you shouted, trying desperately to hold back tears.
"Sweetheart, listen to me. You should've known I never would do those things for you without some sort of payment. It's the way the world worked for thousands of years. You are naive to think anything else!"
It wasn't till now that you realised that he was a lost cause, that this was something he's been waiting for since he knocked on your day those terrifying first few days. You had given him your trust, your friendship and he had thrown it all in your face.
"Don't look at me like that sweetheart. It doesn't have to be like this. You think I want you mad at me? You think I wanna have to chuck you out if you say no?"
"you wouldn't" you whispered, face twisted in fear.
"Well, I can't just keep providing for you and get nothing in return! You're chewing away at supplies sweetheart. And no matter how tasty your cooking is, I can't justify keeping you around for free"
"But.. but I tend to the garden.. I-I fix our clothes. I do do things" you were on the edge of misery, tears licking at your eyelashes waiting to be released.
"Don't be so emotional. A dog could do all that and more...at least then I could have a hunting partner," he grumbled.
"You really don't care about me...do you?" you sniffed, a few tears falling down.
"Ah! C'mon, don't cry! You know how much I hate it when you cry" he said, disgust littering his voice.
"Look, sweetheart, I'm doing you a favour. It's either me, a man you trust-" you practically growled at him "trusted, or who knows how many dirty, filthy, grubby men pawing away at you. Cause that's what's gonna happen if you say no. I'm gonna have to kick you out and your gonna have to whore yourself out to anyone with food, water or shelter who would take you. Or, worst case scenario, some sick fuck is gonna take one look at you and decide he would like to see you gagged and bound in his bed, getting fucked by him day in and day out. "
You stared at him in disgust. But he was right, the world was a dangerous place for women when it wasn't a dystopian wasteland.
"So what's it gonna be?"
#male yandere#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x female reader#female reader x yandere#post apocalyptic
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dream time~
in my dream, I traveled back in time and I was in the middle of this quad where it was raining really hard, and there were groups of Mexican people dancing along to songs, showing their fortitude to preserve culture even when the white people were being thrown back by the rain and wind. I joined in dancing and idk exactly who but I was with people I knew but they were distinctly younger than me and so my usual relationship with them was thrown off. The dancing was being wrapped up and in the distance I heard “cooking up a storm piece of cake cake cake.. oh this shits so bussin!” and it stood out because, again, I traveled back in time and in the dream, it was probably around noeasy time. I spot changbin, and I think we had somewhat known each other, if only met once kinda thing. I go up to him and ask “hey what’s this song called?” cause I didn’t know if it was like a leak type of thing where they slyly reference it in the past like skz have done. But changbin goes silent and I say “this is gonna sound crazy, it’s gonna sound like a movie line but you have to believe me because it’s true. I’m from the future and I can tell you some things that will really make you believe me” and I could tell changbin didn’t necessarily believe me but was also a little nervous about what I might say. And so I said quietly “do you know anything about …Super Bowl… 5 star….” and he was instantly like fuck…. Because I’m an outsider who knows info that could really ruin things for skz yknow, so I said “don’t worry I won’t tell anyone. But if I could say, it would be cool if you did more hip hop type songs, if that’s something you’re still interested in.” And he kinda laughed but he was definitely still nervous about the whole thing. We continued to walk and talk a little w the intention of walking to where we were staying in this town but this person I knew told me that he was staying in the opposite direction, and so I was like “oh shit! Sorry I’ll let you go and I promise I won’t say anything!” But before I could leave, changbin stopped me from leaving and I was like ?? and he told me to follow him. He went down these stairs and at the bottom was chan and they were talking and instantly I was like …..oh I’m in trouble. chan looked pissed but I followed down the stairs and chan told me to follow him but my friend had tagged along right behind me. I told them that they should probably go back now, because chan was probably wanting to discuss what I knew etc etc. but she still followed, even when chan looked upset that she was following too. we go down these stairs, and what you have to know is that all of this was happening near a sea. Down the stairs is a kind of a dock? one that has a boat waiting to be boarded on but below the ground. Chan had some kind of power there because it was nighttime at this point so the dock was closing but he told the guy to prepare the boat to go and the guy did it. The boat started to drift and at this point I turned to my friend, hoping to ask them to leave because I really didn’t wanna be in any more trouble but she jumped onto the boat. Chan told me to get in but he called me hyung AHDNDH I just have to mention that cause at first I thought he called the boat guy hyung but he was definitely calling me hyung, even though he was speaking English the whole time + I would’ve been younger than him at the time too but yknow man, take it where you can get it. And so I get on the boat sooo nervously, I’m about to be killed or lectured to death, and I’m having to sit right next to him. I sit down and am strapping myself in and everything, cause this “boat” is closer to a motor powered peddle boat so we’re right on the edge of water. I’m adjusting stuff and I tell him “hey just so you know, I get motion sickness on water so you have about an hour until I throw up” and then I woke up so I never got the lecture and honestly I couldn’t be more grateful
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i need to talk about almond again
clearly the people who draw him as a tall muscular wrinkleless perfect handsome faced buff hot guy know jack shit about almond cookie cause that is NOT him . hes a weirdo hes a loser hes fucking pathetic hes not even a good guy hes a cop and hes literally canonically arrested children And also tried to arrest a whole fucking dragon this guy is so sick in the head he looks like a poor little cat whos been stuck in the rain but if you brushed its fur back and now it looks even weirder. he canonically tried to buy butter pretzels painting with coffee cups and i tjink thats so fucking funny
look at this . Fuckinf thang okay hold on im gonna get a little sidetracked here but this pisses me off sooo bad
they changed his line because it was too sad or some shit but ONLY IN THE ENGLISH DUB . this line is canon TO ME and nobody can tell me otherwise Fuck you he hates his job so much he started it when he was in his 20s because he was following in his moms footsteps and then she died from a fleeing wizard soon after he started his job and he was left without guidance to his job or life in general because she was his only local family and he hates his dad so hes completely alone and scared and eventually he does get used to things but he no longer uses magic and doesnt consider himself a wizard and he trusts them considerably less
and then things get better and he feels like hes stable enough to have a kid maybe ! so all by himself he bakes walnut and hes doing a little dancey dance around the kitchen as she cooks hes so excited to have a lil daughter and when the magic settles in and shes alive and in his arms he Absolutely melts . she is sooo tiny and delicate and tinspney he is just like Oh my fuckign god i will kill for this thang .he watches her grow up and raises her all by himself (well he gets babysitters since he cant always watch her as a single dad, usually latte) and hes soo proud of her and shes just so smart and cute and also is scarily similar to his mom . he'll never admit it out loud but hes scared of how ambitious and brave walnut is. shes awfully persistent on her dream to grow up to be a detective like her dad and it scares him how smart she is but also hes sooo proud of her shes AMAZING and solves every case shes ever gotten . but he always makes sure to protect her however he can, he controls all the cases she handles and stays very involved to make sure things dont go wrong. rogueforts antics are usually the least dangerous so hes fine with her taking on their antics ,, and despite him swearing to never use magic again when walnut came out as trans to him he did a little spell to help get rid of some of her dysphoria like his mom did for him :] (and then proceeded to pass out becausr he hasnt done a spell in 20 years and magic is incredibly draining)
hes so so scared that shes going to meet the same fate as his mom and he'll be alone again . granted he has close friends to support him this time but it hurt so bad when he lost his mom hes horrified to have it happen again. and after walnut gets cursed and he almost loses her he snaps. suddenly hes obsessed with his job. he has lost ALL TRUST in wizards (other than latte and bus other really close friends) where before he was a lot more laid back, had a dad bod, was much more cheery and took care of himself, now hes starting to neglect himself in favor of his job. just like his lines in crk, he skips his lunches so he can take on more calls. now he feels obligated to do it, to protect the streets of parfaedia so he doesnt lose someone again. mans ages 30 years in a few months because he refuses to sleep and eat and relax. mans is stressed as fuck holy shit he needs a vacation hes geeting sooo many gray hairs. his detective work has started to interfere with his teaching job too, and his classes are getting cut short. his entire life is crumbling apart because hes so desperate to make sure walnut is safe and eventually it probably gets to the point where hes convinced himself that this is what his job is all about and he forgets the reason WHY hes working so hard (to keep walnut safe) he ends up just believing that hes always needed to do this and hes not overworking himself and he needs to try harder and it isnt bad for him . he only takes breaks so he can spend time with his daughter and go to amusement parks nd stuff with her . he has a hard time staying awake but he'll fight the drowsiness to make her happy
hes grumpy as shit man before he was pretty chill and outgoing but now hes just a big old grump . partially because hes sleep deprived but mostly because he hates his job soo much. he hates it he hatee his job sooo much but girl hes convinced he has a responsibility to protect the city and if he leaves it alone for 2 minutes itll burst into flames and also the fact that walnut would be SHATTERED if she found out he quit because her dream job was too hard . so he pushes through
hes soo clumsy he'll trip on THE AIR and fall and scrape his chin and break his arm and then he'll get up and run right smack into a pole . the reason i draw his nose bandaged is because he breaks it like every three weeks hes the bisexual man whos wiping his bloody nose seductively but its not seductive its because he just ran into a wall all of his senses are fucked up btw. his sight and hearing isnt so good because of old age (hes like 40 btw and he has glasss but refuses to wear them) and hes burnt the nerves on his tongue and fingers with coffee he cant feel or taste for shit and his hands feel like sandpaper and hes broken his nose somany times that his breathing is shallow and raspy God damn this guy is pathetic. miserable little wet cat of a man. he has so many scars and they arent impressive at all tjhey all come from tje stupidest things ever and he has the WORST FUCKING LUCK TOO he'll be walking under a line of trees and get hit by a falling acorn TWICE.
anyone who draws him muscular is WRONg SO VERY WRONG hes built like a twig hes weak as shit and can barely lift a rock he cant pick up walnut anymore the only tjings hes good at are running and throwing handcuffs. also he does NOT have a smooth and clear handsome face he looks incredibly tired (he is) he has eyebags and wrinkles and his nose is broken and his face is scarred Fuck you
the only times hes not grumpy is when hes with a loved one or with a kid . hes actually pretty sarcastic and sillay around walnut and latte and eclair (and later roquefort) and he chuckles a lot but hes always very nice around kids . Aside from arresting them in all of his canon art and even the cutscenes he really only smiles around cream puff/walnut/the player (whos mesnt to be a student),,, especially with walnut he looks so happys in the canon art :] AND in the newest detective event whrre he helps the little kid GWA (ALSO IF YOU TAKE HIM BEING FRIENDLY WITH KIDS THE WRONG WAY IM MAULING YOU HES NOT A CREEP HES JUST A DAD WHO DOES DAD THINGS BITING YOU BITING YOU BITING YOUT) i think hed be the type of guy to see a student crying at their desk and pull them out of class to ask whats wrong and give them a pep talk if tjey need it ,,,
also he definitely has a sweet tooth and he denies it . he wants to keep that cold hardened detective look so he stays away from sweets but girl walnuts halloween candy isnt just disappearing out of nowhere . I was really happy actyally because the cake shop thingy confirmed my hc and HE ACTUWLLY SAYS HES NOT A SWEETS GUY AGAKWBFLDH (he doesmt show any sign of denial but shhhhh trust me he secretly looves sweets)
and tjen . His health gets soo bad one day when he gets home he actually just passes out. Not just in a "i am tired" way he literally hits the floor hard (this also happens to be on the same night he confessed to roguefort). he wakes up in the hospital and walnut is Traumatized (thats for another ramble) and now is trying to help him better health by doing things like leaving sticky notes reminding him to eat and urging him to sleep and he feels HORRIBLY GUILTY that his own 12 year old daughter has to help him with self care but hes made these horrible habits for himself that are hard to break . and he struggles a lot!!! but hes trying
then soon he starts dating roquefort (secret identity of roguefort if youre new to my blog) and with their little family of three theyre all a little better :] with the efforts of walnut and roque combined almond is back into Healthy habits . woohoo!
and then he sees the wizard that killed his mom and chases her and Fucking Dies
which like . man he spent so much time worrying about losing walnut and having to feel the pain of losing his family again that he forgot she might feel that pain if she lost him.
anyways if you read all of this i am Kissing you on the lips . keep in mind none of this is canon im just rambling about my interpretation of almond (which is the correct one /LHJ)
ASKS ARE VERY VERY WELCOME Idk if i missed anything
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CRYING WOLF FOR ASK GAME!!!! GIMME ALL THE INFORMATION!!!!
Okay I'm just gonna spam you with asks here so feel free to ignore them if it's too much <3
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 (don't think I've forgotten about the post you made mentioning an alternate ending! 👀👀👀) 10, 11, 13, 14 and 15
Hope this isn't too much! (like I said feel free to ignore these if that's the case!)
I remember you mentioned something about making a lore post about stuff that didn't get put in the fic and maybe you could combine them? If you still feel like making it that is <3 (seriously I still love that fic so much!!!!)
Alright buckle up boys this is gonna get LONG. @voidpants since you sent me an ask with a couple of these in, I'll combine them here <3
This probably goes without saying but there are extreme spoilers for crying wolf below the cut
1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?
My recent obsession with vivisection, dissection and cannibalism <33 I know I'm very good at falling into stereotypes and I'm your local transmasc butch unhealthily obsessed with cannibalism <33333
The noirpunk server did, in all honesty. I don't know what I'd do without you guys.
2: What scene did you first put down?
The very first scene! I write generally chronologically, unless there's something I'm raring to get down!
3: What’s your favorite line of narration?
He pulls back, unable to staunch the hysterical giggles building in his chest, and they tumble free like the intestines of a mutilated fox at the side of a road -- all bloody ropes thick with mucus.
I just like this comparison lol. A close second would be the line about Peter's organs being better to eat than the pigeon.
4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?
“Oh, I know you’re on the square, doll. I don’t think you’ve ever lied to me.”
I really love this line because I love blatant foreshadowing. But also because in the previous line, Hobie really wasn't lying (as is shown later on).
5: What part was hardest to write?
The scene directly before the first cannibalism scene. I'm never too sure how to draw it out and build the tension in the proper way and I'm not entirely too sure I managed it.
6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?
It's absolutely dripping with paranoia, a lot of what is drawn from my own paranoia (where are my insane babes at ik we're around here somewhere). And also it's one of my most violent fics. Didn't tend to write it before now but I'm really enjoying messing around with it now!
7: Where did the title come from?
I was brainstorming with myself after I told the people in the discord that I would try to write something approximating what we'd cooked up together and it took a while (probably about half an hour) before I hit on the story of the boy who cried wolf.
In this context, the boy crying wolf is Peter, whose spider senses are so fucked up that he tends to ignore them when he implicitly trusts people -- which means that when that person isn't in their right state of mind, he dismisses any notion that there might be something wrong.
Simultaneously, the crying wolf is Hobie, who is by far the more dangerous one of them, having been possessed by an actual murderous cannibalistic alien, but who is in much more denial about it. (Literally in the scene where he kills and eats Peter, he refuses to accept what's happened, whereas Peter just told him that it was going to be okay. Both of them are Fucked Up okay.)
Anyway this was a long-winded way of saying that it came from a children's story lol
8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?
Yeah!!! In the early days of the noirpunk discord server, we were chucking around the vague idea of symbiote Hobie, throwing out a few vignette scenes and pieces of dialogue, and it was so compelling to me that I said I'd take a crack at it, so here we are! Thanks guys!
9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?
AHAHAHAHHAAHAHHAHAHA
Yes. I have an alternate ending kicking around in my head at the moment that I'll probably start with once I'm finished with whumptober and another couple of things I've promised people I'll do </3 the adhd is real you guys
10: Why did you choose this pairing for this particular story?
UM?? BECAUSE NOIRPUNK????????
Because this idea was thought up in the noirpunk server with noirpunk in mind and it would have been a disservice to write this pairing as anything other than noirpunk. And also I wanted to give Peter more cannibalism trauma. And at the moment noirpunk is the only thing keeping me sane (which I mean in a very real and worrying way. We ball.)
11: What do you like best about this fic?
I got to write cannibalism under the guise of love :>
Also very proud that I came up with the acronym for the D.O.R.M.A.N.T symbiotes
12: What do you like least about this fic?
Um. Am I allowed to say my writing. If not, then I know there are plotholes and pieces of lore about the worlds and the symbiotes that don't make sense. Consider: I wanted to write cannibalism.
13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?
I listened to a lot of Tunng, Troy Kingi and Arab Strap!!
Mostly from Tunng I was listening to a lot of their album Dead Club and out of those were my favourites of Eating the Dead, Man and also Woman (the last two of which are spoken word poems but I choose to treat them as music because they are <333)
Troy Kingi specifically Sleep (Slumber), First Take Strut, and No Reason to 2nd Guess M.G.
Arab Strap specifically The Turning of our Bones, Here Comes Comus! and The Fable of the Urban Fox.
Sleep (Slumber) was looped specifically for scenes where I needed them to be soft with each other. The Turning of our Bones was looped specifically for the cannibalism. Please watch the music video (don't if you're sensitive to gore) because it's actually one of my favourite things in the world.
14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?
HUNGER AS A METAPHOR FOR DEVOTION. or there might just be a parasite eating your brain lol
Just kidding. Hm. Sometimes we go through something in our lives that's horrific. And we're trying to process it and not getting anywhere because it's so huge that our brains can't wrap themselves around it. Most of the time, we start to convince ourselves that it's us at the core of the problem. Sometimes we are. But to peel back the layers and get to the actual center, there are almost always outside forces that influence us into certain behaviours/choices that we regret later. And that's part of being human!
I'm not saying that you have a parasite in your brain that's making you eat your romantically inclined partner. I'm saying that the love shown in crying wolf is a relatively equal balance of give and take. They try to be as their worlds have shown them that love is, they're unlearning some of the more detrimental things, they're learning and growing together. They take steps back from each other when they need to and try to navigate their situations as well as they can. Idk.
Forgiveness is probably one of the main themes here. Please be gentle with yourself. It's so so important that you are.
15: What did you learn from writing this fic?
That I really enjoy writing cannibalism. And that I need to watch a hell of a lot of 30s nyc films and 70s london films because I STILL don't have their turns of phrases down and it's annoying me.
And to take the leap (haha itsv references). This fic was very overwhelming for me at first because I don't tend to write very fast-paced or violent stuff. But I really enjoy reading it and so I really wanted to write it! Even if it isn't that great, I had a blast writing it!
Thank you for sending this ask in!! It's been really good to look past the writing into the inner mechanics of what makes it tick! (And I promise that I'll have that lore post up sometime!! I have not forsaken you!)
Edit: just realised you skipped 12 in your request but in my defence I'm not wearing my glasses and sort of assumed you asked about everything whoops
#sorry about the lack of life on my writing fronts at the moment#life's thrown me a good few curveballs recently#i am but a small lad <3#esophagus speaks#ask game#ask answered#fiepige#voidpants#crying wolf#hobie brown#peter benjamin parker#noirpunk#atsv#on writing#behind the scenes with esophagus
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We open up to Honda being a mood.
This is Honda, and he's a business guy. He doesn't wanna go to the old okonomiyaki place with his high school buddies because he's bored gossiping about old girlfriends and passed memories. They make him go anyway. Along the way... they avoid KitKat.
Heading off to the old place, the shop is deserted, dirty, and run by the shopkeeper's only daughter. So what's basically the first place she does when they walk into the store?
What is it with this manga and women running restaurants? To be fair, she doesn't WANT to, her dad's just in the hospital. And she's got a toddler at home, and her husband works full time at a DIFFERENT restaurant as the head chef, and she's still expected to be a homemaker, so yeah, she actually has it rough.
So they all agree to help. Honda the grump is... not as agreed, but onboard in his own very food-tsundere way.
So of course he goes to the MEETING OF THE HIGH SCHOOL YOUTH TO SAVE THE OKONOMIYAKI PLand nobody else shows up. Figures. Honda the grump is alone.
AND OH NO, CUSTOMERS. AND HE DIDN'T READ THE RECIPE. I think I've had this nightmare. SO he sucks at it. KitKat comes over to borrow some flour and even though Honda the grump isn't the owner, he has a speech.
Weeping like my co so then a fuckin' yakuza boss comes in for food, because why the fuck is this place still getting reservations if the owner's been laid up for months- anyway so the yakuza boss nearly throws Honda into the back of a car to fuckin' kill him or whatever and KitKat's like "stop it. We're gonna use words."
And these guys were willing to kill Honda because he told them he didn't work there and the restaurant was closed because the owner's kid had the flu. ANd they're street food vendors.
Thus is the world of KitKat Jesus. (The Jesus part we're getting to, just stick with me.)
I have never related harder to a character in this manga in my life.
So KitKat's like "Look if you're here to shakedown for flavor THIS hard, let me try making the recipe. Honda you stay you have to taste test" and Honda's like "damn it!" because he is LITERALLY walking out the door! KitKat reads the recipe and goes "Wait... this is way too basic, this can't be right" and it turns out he's right, because despite living in the shop her whole life and watching her dad cook every day she didn't know the recipe.
So the street vendors are like "You should sell this at the food fair tomorrow!" and KitKat's like "... hell, why not?". Honda's like "okay i'm fucking LEAVING NOW THANK YOU" and the street vendors go "Hey wait aren't you a government worker? You know your job would be way easier if you did public work and people saw your face" and Honda's like "... ... sign me up."
They got the owner's daughter's permission, though, that's okay.
This next chapter's actually kind of cook- I mean cool! Freudian hungry. But KitKat talks about how food stall cooking is different from restaurant cooking, because you have to take into account eating on the go. Honda the grump is put on the cabbage cutter machine to help and bemoans that he wasn't allowed to eat street food as a kid.
Guy's just got opinions about fuckin' everything.
Honda the temporarily-asshole-for-the-plot decides to just go... LITERALLY grab customers out of someone else's line to force them to eat at his stall.
And starts a fight.
I'm starting to think the author has a low opinion of street food vendors.
OH wait no, I was wrong, they are ALSO the mafia. And street food vendors. Yeah there we go. No wonder Honda wasn't allowed to eat street food...
(skims ahead) oh god I'm gonna run out of pictures again- SO TO SUM UP:
The Capo wants to put the screws to Honda the grump because he tried to cheat at food stalls, so he has his two lancers, big dudes who cook fast, give him a bunch of okonomiyaki to sell before sunset, but KitKat's like "you bitch, you gave him shitty food to sell so you could kick his ass later".
Honda at this point must be like "I wouldn't be in this situation if everybody else hadn't flaked out on me, christ".
OH well, only one way to settle it.
And Honda the... weirdly malleable personality for the plot is like "I am so moved by this cook-off between two rival food mafia gangs that I volunteer to be the chef".
And so KitKat's like "Okay". TRAINING
Honda the singer now apparently has to sing ONLY this song for the next two days.
It's supposed to help him improve his internal clock so he doesn't have to look at his watch while he's cooking. Three minutes to cook on one side, six minutes on the other. ... thing is.
This song's been covered a LOT. And most of them aren't 3 minutes long. Most of them are REALLY fuckin' short actually. Fun little bop though!
Must be this version.
Hey, me too, guy!!!
So the training continues, and on the day of the cook-off-
Sooey sooey, soodada-lata, soodada-lata sooey sooey!~
And his place is a hit! Because-
It's in easy-to-eat pieces!
So he wins the contest- wait whatever happened to the restaurant?? WELL LEMME TELL YOU!
Honda the better goes back to his normal job.
Honda's buddies realize that they forgot about the plot for TWO WEEKS.
Buncha assholes!
And... Honda has quit his well-paying government office job... to work the okonomiyaki bar.
I mean... Not judging but... like, benefits? Vacation days? ... not going home at night smelling like cooking oil? Just a thought...
Story arc length: 9 chapters.
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Hi! Happy STS (this is italiangothicwriteblr's main btw)
What's your favorite detail in one of your WIPs?
(I can't remember if I already sent you an ask, if I did feel free to ignore this)
Hello Joy!! Happy STS!
(and no, you did not send me an ask yet, so thank you!)
**Fair warning, I am kind of known for my long-ass questions and answers. This got very long.
So, I'm going to kind of twist this question and say "detail" as in, very specific lines of dialogue, because I love writing shit that sounds one way but has deeper meaning. And I'm gonna answer for ATQH.
The first example is during An Apology, which I still haven't posted the full version of, so you can't read the complete context (I will, eventually!!), but here's the basics:
Fallon rejects a proposal from a guy who is, by almost every standard, perfect. And he would be especially perfect as Prince Consort, because he's from Anvia (Fallon's kingdom), and well-loved by the people.
(Note: Fallon turned him down because she didn't have feeling for him and didn't want to lead him on or put him in a relationship where he isn't given the same love he gives. She was being kind.)
Kris, who was more or less emotionally abused his entire life up until now, and called worthless for years, now thinks he has no chance with Fallon, like, at all.
So, Kris breaks his promise to himself (his promise was basically "don't let everyone see how much of a fuck-up you are") and steals a bottle of wine from the kitchens and gets drunk.
The cook sees him and tells Fallon that he stole it (specifically because of an incident earlier in the story), and Fallon is concerned, because she's never seen Kris drink more than like, a glass of wine the whole 8 months he's been at the palace.
Fallon goes and talks to him, he self-sabatoges and is an ass, and Fallon chews him out.
Now, the important part: while chewing him out, Fallon full-names him, but she doesn't know his middle name, so she just uses his full first and his last. (which is enough of an ouch.)
Now for the actual detail: A the next day, Kristopher apologizes to Fallon (and she to him), and at the end of his apology, he says "My middle name is Odis, by the way. Just in case you need it again."
On the surface, this is like "oh, haha, he has a funny middle name", but Kris actually thinks he's going to fuck up again and that Fallon's going to yell at him. 😭
Example Two under the cut!
Example two is a while later, during a scene called "I'm not leaving."
Context:
Lavinia tries to kill Fallon. Nina stops her, and Fallon is phyiscally fine.
Kris wakes up in the middle of the night and hears people running and shouting. There's a guard at his door that won't let him leave or tell him anything.
Kris freaks out and tries to get to Fallon, and has to be physically stopped.
Fallon doesn't see or talk to anyone other than Blackthorne and Nina until late afternoon the next day.
She makes a little speech saying that she's fine, but the castle will be going into lockdown while they investigate the attempt on her life. Anyone who wants is welcome to leave, since it will be impossible to do so once they close the gates.
Later, Fallon is in her study, and Kristopher comes in. It's the first time he's been up close / alone with her since she almost died, and only the second time he's seen her, period.
Kristopher says "Not knowing if you were okay, or even if you were alive..."
Fallon relies with "I'm alive."
The detail is that she respects him enough not to lie to his face, but also absolutely refuses to admit how much Lavinia's betrayal fucked her up. So she explicitly does not says she's okay, but she wants to comfort him somehow.
#wearfinethingsalltoowell#happy sts!#storyteller saturday#wip: atqh#atqh: favorites#faves#atqh: Fallon#atqh: Kris#atqh: FxK#italiangothicwriteblr
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Trouble
Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader
Summary: Reader decides to cause a little trouble on vacation.
Category: SMUT (18+)
Warnings: Language, sex (dom!Spencer, hair pulling, spanking, female masturbation, rough sex, light choking, oral sex- male receiving, crying during sex, degradation, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cum play / if I missed anything, please let me know!)
Word Count: 6.6k
Full Requests:
+ “...this is for dom spencer/post prison spencer!! okay so you guys are all out with the team on like a team vacation type thing! you decide to wear the cutest and smallest black bikini and tease spencer the whole day. and i mean tease him!! after you guys all separate off for the night he punishes you! spanks you and fucks you until you’re a whimpering mess! maybe you even fall into sub space and his aftercare is 10/10 amazing!!” — @slutforthegubes
+ “A one-shot for reader being bratty for being clingy in front of the team, so then he punishes her by spanking, edging ect?” — @smexyreid
MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST
NOTE: I actually had a fluff planned for today, but I’ve been feeling rather ~spicy~ lately, so I hope this is alright 😉😂
***
Normally you didn't like to get into trouble on vacations. And really, who did? Vacations were meant to be relaxing, a way to kick back, relax, and take a break from the monotony of day-to-day life. Not to mention you and the team were far over-due for one of those breaks.
So naturally, your instincts would tell you to do just that: relax. Right?
Wrong.
You couldn't help it. As of late, your sex life was getting... interesting, to say the least. And now more than ever you were always in the mood for trouble; Whether it meant purposely bending over in the office (right in front of your boyfriend, where everyone else was in the room and he couldn't do anything about it) or touching yourself without permission, also sometimes right in front of him.
Bottom line: right now you were looking for trouble. And you knew exactly where to find it.
Trouble, in this case, took the form of a skimpy black bikini you'd spotted while shopping for the trip. it was barely a bathing suit at all, held together by thin strings that you knew would fall apart with just a mere little tug. And if that wasn't enough to entice you, it had little lace detailing that you knew would drive him insane.
Your body practically burned with desire as it sat in a bag in the backseat of your rental car, Spencer's hand on your thigh burning equally as hot.
"You feel really warm," he noted, giving your leg a comforting squeeze. "Are you okay? If you're not feeling well we can stay behind..."
"No, I'm fine," you answered truthfully with a smile. "I'm just really excited to take some time off. Lord knows we need it."
"Yeah, I know... I just wish we weren't going somewhere so... water-y..."
You laughed, placing your hand on top of his and giving it the same reassuring squeeze he'd given you. "It'll be fun. Trust me, you'll have a great time."
He didn't sound so sure about that, but he didn't know the plan you had cooked up. He was going to have fun on this trip whether he thought so or not.
***
The resort was beautiful. Hell, beautiful was nowhere near the right word for it. It was everything you'd always dreamed about, just like those fancy commercials that showed people in big pools, surrounded by palm trees and workers with white polo shirts who brought you whatever you wanted.
And the hotel rooms you stayed in? They were immaculate. It may have seemed like you were exaggerating, but honestly, you felt like a princess. The bed was just about the most comfortable thing you'd ever had the pleasure of laying on, the view was incredible, sweeping over the resort with a beautiful sunrise every morning, and the complimentary robes and towels were heavenly.
You never wanted to leave.
"Remind me to give Rossi a big hug the next time I see him," you sighed as you rolled over in bed and snuggled into Spencer's side.
He laughed softly into your hair and pulled you closer. "I know it's only been a day, but I could stay here forever. In this bed, with you..."
You smiled, feeling your heart warm at his words. "Me, too... But if you think you're gonna get out of today by being charming, then you're sorely mistaken."
Yesterday, the day you all arrived, you made a plan with Spencer: that first day would be spent settling in and having dinner with the team, going out for drinks and relaxing. And then the next day (today), you were all going to spend the day outside, enjoying the sun and enjoying each others' company. He wasn't too fond of the idea spending all day outside in the heat, but you were sure that by the end of the night he would have found it very rewarding.
Because today was the day you were initiating your plan. Since you would be in public (and you knew your boyfriend wasn't a fan of being too publicly affectionate), you were going to tease him as much as you could. You knew it would kill him, not being able to touch you in front of everyone, and you also knew it would make him mad. Most likely, he would warn you to drop it, and you would feign innocence, continuing on your merry way and proceed with the plan. And if you knew him as well as you thought, chances are he would tolerate you all day, barely putting up with your antics until you were alone for the night.
And then? Then you were hoping he would punish the hell out of you. Because honestly, nothing got your blood pumping faster than when he called you names... When he spanked you, or choked you, or refused to let you come. Or even when he did the opposite and made you orgasm so many times you cried from the overstimulation.
But you knew that whatever punishment he decided this time, it was going to be absolutely delicious.
Just the thought of it made you clench your thighs together, and Spencer seemed to notice; He brought one of his hands down to rest between them, feeling the dampness that was forming through the fabric of your underwear.
"Someone's excited this morning," he mused, pressing a kiss to your forehead as his middle finger pushed the fabric aside and gently glided through your pussy.
You sucked in a breath, nuzzling into his neck and failing to hide a smile. "Well, since we're gonna be out and about all day, don't you think we should do something about that?"
Spencer laughed again, this time slipping his finger all the way inside you, causing you to gasp out.
"That sounds like a fantastic idea, princess."
***
To say you were anxious would have been an understatement.
Because of the material of your cover-up dress, no one could see what you had on underneath unless you took it off. In reality it was more like a summer dress, landing just above the knee in a pretty black floral pattern. Your hair was up in a clip for easy taking-down, and cheap dollar-store sunglasses sat firmly on the bridge of your nose.
And just the knowledge of what was hiding beneath your seemingly innocent get-up had your stomach twisted in knots. Even as Spencer swung your hand in his as the two of you made your way to the lounge area, you pictured that same hand fisting the sheets as his wrapped around your throat while he fucked you absolutely senseless.
You hadn't even realized you were squeezing his hand so tight until he wiggled his fingers and gently nudged you with his shoulder. "You've been... squirmy and tense lately, are you sure you're alright?"
Your hand loosened its grip on his, and then you brought them up to kiss the back of his hand. "I'm fine, just excited to be in the sun all day, that's all."
There was some degree of truth to your words, but he didn't have to know that.
So, to convince him you really were fine, you practically jumped once you reached the gateway to the pool and lounge area, spotting all your friends as they waved you over. Spencer laughed as you parted from him and started walking a little faster.
"Someone's eager," Rossi mused from his chair, a glass of lemonade in his hand.
As Spencer approached behind you, Luke snickered. "Not eager enough, apparently. They're late. What were you lovebirds up to, eh?"
"Alvez, if you have to ask, you probably couldn't handle the answer," Tara said with a snicker of her own.
Funny thing was, she was absolutely right. And it made your stomach twist into even bigger knots just thinking about what happened just an hour before you left the room.
Thankfully the mood was kind enough to shift, courtesy of JJ removing her sheer cover-up and taking her sunglasses off with them. "Anyone up for a light morning swim before more people show up?"
You weren't sure whether or not it was a good idea... Did you want to start your teasing so early on that by the end of the day it was going to be an even bigger struggle to keep your hands off of Spencer, silently begging him to whisk you away and have his way with you? But what if he held out and decided to cut the day off early? If that was the case, he'd most likely drag out your punishment for hours, and is that something you wanted?
Your mind swam in a current of filthy images and possible scenarios, all of which were too damn good to pass up.
So, you counted yourself in and handed Spencer your bag, to which he gladly took and then planted a kiss on your forehead.
You waited until he was settled down, sitting at the table with Rossi—who also decided to hang back—to start removing your accessories.
The first to go was the sunglasses, easy and still unsuspicious. You were going to remove the hairclip first, but then an idea came to mind, so you easily slid out of the cover-up and let it fall to the ground.
Spencer's jaw dropped open at about the same speed, though he quickly closed it to seemingly remain unbothered. The smallest of smirks played across your lips as you bent down to pick the garment up. And you took your sweet time, purposely struggling to get it between your fingers. At one point, you had it halfway up before you 'accidentally' dropped it again, mumbling a curse under your breath.
But eventually you gave up the charade, successfully grabbing the dress and holding it out to Spencer. "Would you put this in my bag for me, babe?"
"Uh huh," he muttered, his hands practically shaking when he took it from you.
To add sugar to the pot, you took a step towards him and kissed him chastely on the mouth, just before taking the clip from your hair and shaking it out like in the movies. Truthfully you weren't sure if it was as sexy as they always made it seem, but judging by your boyfriend's inability to look at you, you figured it did the trick.
You turned and made your way to the pool then, leaving him behind with a little extra spring in your step.
***
Your swim extended until lunch time at around noon, where everyone gathered at their table. There were about thirty of these tables all around the pool, each attaching a tall umbrella to keep from the sun.
Though Spencer had seemed rattled and more shocked than anything at your outfit reveal before, now he just seemed calm. Oddly calm.
As you opened a beer, you looked over at him. "You okay, baby?"
"Yep. I'm all good."
He clearly wasn't. His hand twitched under the table, and it made your stomach flutter with butterflies as you wondered what he was thinking. Was he thinking about fucking you out here in front of everyone? Was he imagining and concocting ways to make sure you knew how much of an affect you had on him later? The thought of all of it excited you to the point of squirminess again.
It was safe to say that Spencer noticed. His hand reached out and brushed your knee about ten minutes into lunch, and it sent a jolt of electricity through you. He was never this way in public, but now he was full-on gripping your knee under the table and slowly sliding it up and up and up...
"Excuse me? Do you guys have an extra chair we could use by chance?" A voice sounded from the other side of you, and you jumped as Spencer quickly removed his hand from you.
But then you got another idea.
"Oh, here, you can use mine," you told the voice, which belonged to a middle-aged woman in a blue one-piece and a sun hat.
"Are you sure? I don't want to be any trouble..."
You stood up and smiled at her, handing over your chair as you insisted. "It's not a problem. Really."
"Thank you," she returned with a smile. "Have a great day."
"You, too!" you called as she walked off with the chair. You turned to Spencer with a smile. "You don't mind if I sit on your lap, right?"
He didn't answer, only shifted in the chair, and that gave you all the permission you needed. So you promptly sat down between his legs, and you snuggled as close to him as you could, making sure to wiggle a little more than needed without being too obvious as your friends continued chatting. Spencer's left hand gripped your hip so tightly you thought he was going to leave bruises.
That excited you more than it probably should have.
So to test your luck, you placed your hand over the top of his and drew little patterns into the back of his hand. Your other hand worked at occasionally grabbing fries to eat.
What you didn't expect was for Spencer to ask for one. Really, you didn't think much of it, though those butterflies returned in your lower belly when he ate the fry right out of your hand, bringing his face to rest right above your shoulder. Before he pulled away, he whispered just inconspicuously enough to avoid raising any red flags.
"Watch yourself, princess..."
He hissed out the nickname so harshly it made you shudder, and your thighs clenched under the table as he leaned back again.
Just in time for someone to talk.
"Why, you two are awfully clingy today." It was Penelope, giggling through a bright pink bendy straw.
You decided to play off of that, smiling and leaning back to press yourself fully against him. "This is our first vacation together, I guess I'm just excited," you said sweetly.
Spencer lightly kissed your cheek, but his hand squeezed your bare hip again. A warning not to push it.
"You know, Will and I haven't had a vacation in a while. It's kind of a bummer he had to work, otherwise we could've taken the kids." JJ pouted playfully before taking a fry.
"We'll definitely have to plan for another one of these in the future," Penelope offered happily.
You wiggled your hips just the tiniest bit as your head dropped onto Spencer's shoulder. "I agree."
His fingers were gripping your hip with brutal force now, and to cover a yelp, you faked a cough. He eased his grip, settling on splaying his entire hand flat across it instead. Its warmth mixed with the knowledge of how big it was made you all warm inside. And, God, if you didn't want to fake being sick so you could drag him up to the hotel room right then...
But you held on, ready for phase two of your plan.
While swimming before, You decided with Luke, Penelope, Tara, Matt, and Emily that a game of water-volleyball was in your future. JJ offered to call points while the rest of you, in teams, played against each other. Despite their efforts to get Rossi and Spencer to join, they both declined, but in a way you were thankful.
Being in action might just be the thing you needed to finally push him over the edge.
So soon after lunch, you all moved over to the open water-volleyball pool. JJ, Spencer, and Rossi all sat at the edge on lounge chairs to watch while you divided into two teams, Penelope, Luke, and Emily on one side, you, Tara, and Matt on the other.
Truth be told, during the game you almost completely forgot about the other little game that you were playing with Spencer—the one only you two knew about. You were quite content and happy having fun with your friends for so long that it was a distant memory.
But at one point, Matt lifted you out of the water to hit the ball, his hands firmly gripping your waist to help you do it. And you didn't think anything of it until you realized your second, and probably your most fatal, mistake.
You'd successfully spiked the ball and scored the winning point, to which your team loudly cheered. And when Matt brought you back down into the water, you flung your arms around his neck in a hug. He lifted you out of the water again as he hugged you, and over his shoulder, you spotted Spencer.
He was furious.
No one would have been able to tell, of course, but you knew. You'd seen that look before, when you were teasing him badly enough that it warranted a pretty severe punishment.
You may have won the volleyball game, but in the process you inadvertently won another game, one that excited you far more and presented you with the grand prize of one very long night.
***
Spencer was quiet with you the rest of the day. After the game, you all decided to just lay out in the sun for a few hours. Occasionally, you would sneak a glance at your boyfriend to find him in that oddly calm state again, the one that borderline scared and excited you at the same time, and for a moment you wondered if maybe you'd gone too far, even if you hadn't intentionally meant to make him jealous.
But if something was truly wrong, he would have told you. You both knew the lines between playful and serious, and this odd calm that Spencer was exuding was most definitely playful.
He only further proved that to be true when you got up to the bar to get a margarita, and you felt a presence behind you.
His hands splayed over your hips and slid forward to your stomach, pulling you back to him. The hardness you felt pressing into the thin material of your bikini made you tremble.
"I want you to finish your drink, and then I want you to meet me in our room. Take your time, princess. I'll be waiting."
Before you could even answer, he was gone, his hand lingering on your body for a moment before he let himself fully walk away. And as you slowly sipped on your drink, chatting a bit with Penelope when she came over, your skin still burned hot from his touch.
***
You took a deep breath before stepping ino the room. Your hands were shaking with excitement and your stomach churned at the sight of him.
He was perched on the bed, freshly showered, wearing nothing but a towel hung low on his hips while he read a book. His hair was wet, towel dried and hanging in soft curls in front of his eyes.
Spencer always took your breath away, but this?
You were in deep shit.
He didn't even look up from his book. He continued flipping the page and gently nodded towards the bathroom door. "Go get a shower ready. I'll be in in a minute."
Your first instinct was to obey. But then again, trouble was what you wanted in the first place, so trouble was what you were going to deliver.
"Why?"
"Because you're covered in chlorine from the pool, and you have to shower." He still didn't look up at you. And that just wouldn't do.
"I'm sure you're right, babe, but I just don't feel like it. And you can't make me."
His eyes flitted up to meet you, just for a brief second before he sighed and shut the book. "Y/N..."
"Spencer..."
"You've been a tease all day, do you really want to make it harder for yourself?" This time he was looking up at you fully, meeting you with a bored expression that was just so fucking hot. You couldn't resist.
"I don't know," you teased, crossing your arms. "Do I?"
"Trust me, princess, you don't..."
You giggled at the nickname and started walking towards him, kicking off your flip flops and uncrossing your arms in the process. "Hmm... I think I do."
"Take another step, see what happens," he offered plainly.
Just for the hell of it, you stopped and then took one giant step forward, bringing you to the edge of the bed where he was sitting. You smiled down at him and felt your insides heat up as he brought his hand out, roughly pulling at the thin fabric of your bikini. He pulled you right on top of him, just for you to be rolled over and pinned on your stomach.
His hands pinned your hands behind your back as he pushed his body into yours, making you whimper out excitedly.
"So be it. Don't make a sound unless I tell you to. Understand?" The sternness in his voice sent another chill through you as you nodded. But then one of his hands came up and tugged on your hair, pulling your neck back. "Answer me."
"I understand," you said, though not without making it sound like you were bored.
That only seemed to make him more mad, which of course was a win for you. He tugged your hair harder, causing you to yelp out with a masochistic laugh.
"Something funny?" he inquired evenly.
"You're cute when you're mad," you offered with a shit-eating grin, wiggling your ass against him.
This time, instead of pulling your head back, he shoved it down into the mattress, his hand shifting to hook his middle finger around your cheek and into your mouth. "You're cute when you shut up and obey me... But I have a feeling you're not going to be very good for me tonight, are you princess?"
You only hummed around his finger in response, clenching your pussy around nothing as your body suddenly went wild with a wave of pleasure at his words.
"That's what I thought... Let's see how well you take your spankings, maybe then I'll go easy on you later."
He wasted no time then, yanking your swim bottoms down and running his hand over the curve of your ass.
"Let's see... One—" SMACK. "—for making a show of wearing this slutty little bikini."
To keep it interesting, you wiggled your ass for more, and he returned the favor by spanking you even harder than the last time. "Two, for giving away your chair just to sit in my lap." Very quickly after, he administered another one, following with, "Three, for teasing me at lunch in front of our friends."
"But I d—"
SMACK. "Four, for interrupting me," he said quietly. And with the way his hand was rubbing over your stinging skin, he was no doubt admiring his work so far. He even hummed, lifting his hand occasionally, leading you to think he was going to spank you again— Only for him to settle on rubbing over your ass again.
He was drawing this out. Taking his time. Seeing how antsy you would get.
Needless to say, it was working.
Your hands, which were still pinned behind your back by Spencer's other hand, started to flex, and you whimpered out in want.
"What's the matter, princess?" he cooed.
"I... I want you," is all you could think to say. Because you really did.
"Bad girls don't get what they want. Especially brats. So tell me, do you think I'm going to give you what you want?"
You were supposed to answer him, but in the name of trouble, you remained silent.
He waited for an answer that never came. And when he was tired of waiting, realizing what you were doing, Spencer spanked you again. "Five, for not answering me."
Before you could do or say anything, he landed another slap to your ass. "And six, for having Matt's hands all over you."
You couldn't help it. You laughed. "Oh, that got to you, huh? His hands were nice and big. Reminded me of y—ah!"
He spanked you again, hard. Tears stung behind your eyes and you smiled through them.
"Seven," he growled. "For being a fucking brat."
You took a few deep breaths before speaking again. "Aw, are you jealous? You really think I would—fuck!"
Another spank. "Eight. Don't you dare get it to ten." It was obvious that he was challenging you. Either that, or you were just looking for trouble so badly that you were willing to hear his words as a challenge. But regardless, you challenged him back with one simple, breathy word.
"Nine."
SMACK. "Nine. You must really be looking for trouble, huh?"
You laughed, wiggling your ass one more time. "You don't even know the half of it."
Spencer spanked you one last time, harder than all the rest of them, and you actually yelped out, squeezing your eyes shut.
"Ten. Now get in the shower, or I'll make it double."
You thought about it, but a shower actually sounded really good, and it would give you a chance to breathe before he utterly wrecked you in a little while.
"Okay," you offered, slumping against the bed loosely to show him your surrender. He gently let go of you then, rubbing over your ass a few times before pulling away from you and helping you stand.
"You want me to put something on that now or later?" he asked gently, brushing the hair from your face.
"Later," you returned with a wink and a smile.
He huffed a laugh before gently smacking your ass one more time and sending you off in the shower.
***
As excited as you were for the rest of the evening, you were tempted to take as long in the shower as you wanted, just to see what Spencer would do. But you decided to just take a shower normally, rinsing out your hair just as you always did. You quickly washed up your body, wincing a bit at the sting of your ass under the soap and warm water.
And then you started thinking about how exhilarated you felt as he punished you. Each sharp, warm smack of his hand on your skin made you feel utterly electric and wet. It was a wonder you weren't actually dripping down your leg and onto the bed at how badly you wanted him.
The thought sent your hand down to said wetness. You really shouldn't have been touching yourself, but you were practically burning for him, melting at the amount of teasing you'd done today and the anticipation that came with every move. Your hand was relentless, looking for its own trouble as you moaned out as quietly as you could. The water was still cascading down your back as you rubbed tight, fast circles on your clit, hoping to get fast relief.
And then a knock came at the door.
"I want you out here in five minutes!"
Sure enough, Spencer's voice was enough to finally push you off the edge, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through you. But as soon as it subsided, you turned the water off and got out to dry yourself off.
Hopefully he wouldn't ever find out what you've done. But the devious side of you really wanted to know what he'd do if he did.
With that thought flooding your brain, you quickly finished drying off and walked out into the bedroom to find Spencer waiting on the bed again. His towel was still wrapped around his waist, and it gave you an idea.
You winked and dropped your own towel, revealing yourself fully to him.
"Did I ask you to drop the towel?" he chastised.
"Nope," you replied, placing your hands on your hips.
"Then why did you do it?"
You decided to take the mocking route, drawling out an overexaggerated, "Because I'm a dirty little whore, and I need you to put your big cock inside me."
"Are you done?"
He looked bored again, and it made you want him even more. So you said, "No. Once your cock is in me, I wa—"
"Were you touching yourself in the shower?"
Holy fuck.
"No."
Spencer stood up and glided over to you until he was towering over you, clearly unbelieving of your blatant lie. "No?"
"No," you repeated, the tiniest of smirks forming on your lips.
Without warning, his hand was between your legs, and a gasp left you as he found your clit, rubbing it almost exactly the same way you'd been earlier. You couldn't help the strangled moan that left your mouth, and he smirked knowingly.
"Yep. Those are definitely the sounds I heard."
And then he removed his hand, making you whine at the loss of contact. "I'm sorry," you whispered, hoping he'd return, if only to punish you for what you did by overstimulating you.
He seemed to have another idea, though.
"You're sorry?"
"Mhm," you whimpered, reaching out to grab his hand. "I'm so sorry."
When you had hold of his hand, he took control, gripping your wrist and pushing it away, and then he grabbed your shoulder. "Then why don't you get on your knees—" he pushed on your shoulder and you obliged happily, "—and show me how sorry you are..."
Your pussy throbbed around nothing as you looked up at him, eagerly waiting for his towel to drop. But he didn't move, and it was clear that he was waiting on you to do it.
So you yanked the towel down and marveled at how hard and ready he was. Your head seemed to move of its own accord, like it was magnetically drawn to his dick, and you weren't complaining. And then your tongue flattened and licked a broad stripe underneath him, before you quickly made work of taking him completely into your mouth.
It didn't take long to start a nice rhythm bobbing up and down, occasionally looking up to see him. Again, he looked bored, and though that would have spurred you on before, now you were desperate to please. So you worked your mouth faster, slacking your jaw and taking him in deeper, using your hands to keep yourself steady by gripping the back of his thighs. You moaned and gagged around him, yet kept your pace up regardless.
"Come on, princess, you can do better than that," he teased, fisting your hair and holding you down on his cock. "Apologize like you mean it."
He released your hair then, and you pulled back to take a breath of air before spitting obscenely on his dick and quickly stroking him with your hand. "I'm sorry, baby, I'm so so sorry," you whined, right before taking his balls in your mouth. You kept at that for a few moments before going to take him in your mouth again.
This time you were meaningful in every single movement, taking him in slow and deep. Each time he hit the back of your throat you held yourself there and choked around him as long as you could, tears falling from your eyes. And then you'd pull away slowly, swirling your tongue around his tip before repeating.
Eventually though, he pulled you away completely and studied you as you sat there, knelt on the floor in front of him with red eyes, and tears and spit completely coating your face. Your lips were glistening and puffy as you panted, whispering soft apologies.
"What a good girl," Spencer mused, brushing hair from your eyes and wiping tears from your cheeks. "I accept your apology. Come here."
His gentle voice all but pulled you to him as you stood on shaky knees. He hadn't even really done anything to you yet, and you were already a mess. That fact made you smile.
You wiped most of the mess from your face and nodded. "So, what's my reward?"
Spencer huffed a laugh. "For being a brat? Nothing."
"Aw, but I thought I earned your forgiveness..." You pouted playfully, and he pulled you closer by the waist.
"Yeah, well you're being cocky, so I take it back."
Before you could say anything, he kissed you, bringing both of his hands up to cradle the sides of your head. You all but melted into him and let him lead you to the bed, where you were turned around and bent over again.
He used his leg to spread yours apart, right before bringing a hand to the nape of your neck. As he grabbed a fistful of your hair and gently tugged your head back, his other hand fell between your legs and gently parted you.
"You ready, princess?"
"Uh huh," you whined back, right as he pushed forward and glided his cock through your pussy. He waited, making you anticipate that sweet moment when he'd finally enter you, and you could tell he was enjoying every second. You wiggled against him, and he yanked your hair.
"Ah-ah, be patient... Be patient..."
He continued just sliding himself through your opening until you weren't expecting it. And then he slammed into you, eliciting a loud moan from the back of your throat.
"Sh, shh," Spencer expressed, releasing your hair and sliding his hand to cover your mouth. "Everyone's going to hear you, princess, you need to keep quiet. Can you do that for me?"
"Mhm," you mumbled against his hand, letting out a strangled sigh when he placed it on your shoulder instead. He kept up a nice, hard pace pounding into you, each slap of his hips against your burning ass just the right amount of pain to be pleasant. And you were thankful for the bed underneath you, because if you didn't have it, you'd surely have buckled under the weight of your knees already.
Feeling how limp you were in his grasp, Spencer used both his hands to wrap around the front of your throat, keeping you upright as your hands pressed into the mattress.
"Tell me, princess, do you think you deserve to come so soon?"
You were so caught up in how hard and deep he was fucking you that you were pretty sure it wouldn't matter what you told him— you were going to orgasm regardless, because there was no way you could even fathom trying to hold it in. Whether or not Spencer would show you any mercy at that point was a mystery.
You were just going to have to find out.
"I—I... Ohhhh..."
You heard him laugh lowly, and it made you clench around him. "Oh, it hasn't even been five minutes, and I've already fucked you so dumb you can't even speak? Huh?"
You whined in response, letting your head fall to the side as you tried to look at him. And you barely caught a glimpse of his hair as he continued speaking. "Aw... My poor little princess... That's what you get, isn't it? When you act like a dirty little whore..."
He was recalling what you'd teased earlier, and it brought you closer to the edge more than you liked to admit.
"Uh... huh," you whined out, dangerously close to coming undone.
"Alright then, princess. Come for me, show me what you got."
Unsurprisingly, it didn't take very long for that to happen. You let out a string of whimpers and cries as he fucked you through your orgasm, his hands slightly tightening around your throat as well. Every sensation was blinding and intense, just like you knew it'd be, even if it was only your second orgasm of the night.
And you had a decent suspicion that it wasn't going to be your last.
Even after you were done, Spencer kept at it, relentlessly fucking you into the mattress until your legs were surely numb. Your knees were still sore from being on the floor before, and likewise, your ass was still burning. Not to mention the overstimulation you were experiencing as one of his hands moved down to rub at your clit.
Eventually though, he stopped, and you weren't sure why. But then he flipped you around, laying you on the edge of the bed and leaning over you, his hands brushing more of the tears from your cheeks.
"I wanna see your pretty little eyes when I come, okay? You think you can keep 'em open for me, princess?"
"Mhm," you whined out as he pushed into you again.
He settled on a slow pace that built and built until he was fucking you fast and hard and incredibly deep. His entire body leaned into yours as he snapped his hips forward over and over again, brutal in their goal to completion. You kept whining out, feeling another orgasm coming quickly as you let yourself succumb to him.
"That's it, princess, you're taking it so well. We're almost done..." He whispered comforts into your temple, moments before you reached your peak once more. You shook violently underneath him, which was all he needed to finish himself.
He pulled back and looked into your eyes, filled with tears at the overstimulation, as he snapped his hips forward once, twice, and then three times before letting go. He held himself inside of you, moaning out while looking into your eyes. The feel of his cock throbbing and spilling over inside of you was just about the most comforting thing in the world right then, accompanied by soft brushes of his fingers through your hair and even softer declarations of love.
Long after he stayed inside of you, catching his breath, Spencer pulled out and examined you, the way your body glistened perfectly with the right amount of sweat. Your chest heaved, each dip and curve and peak of your breasts slowly rising and falling as you trembled. He slid down your body, until finally his eyes caught sight of your pussy, glistening and dripping with his cum. It absolutely wrecked him in the best way possible, so much so that he couldn't help himself.
He brought his hand to your opening, gently scooping up his cum and gathering it onto the pads of his fingers. You moaned out as he did it, and he knew then exactly what he wanted.
"Open up, princess," he pried softly, bringing his fingers to your mouth. You gladly did what you were told and sighed out as he glided them over your tongue, practically spoon-feeding you his cum. He pumped his fingers in and out of your mouth slowly, feeling every vibration on your tongue from the sounds you made. And then he did it again, bringing his fingers back to your pussy to gather more of his mess.
He did this until it was pretty much all gone, and truthfully, you would have let it go on forever. The intimacy of it all, the soft and sensual way in which he explored and watched you, and the love you felt for each other all wrapped up in a shiny, red bow was the perfect end to a perfect day.
You would have fallen asleep, but Spencer was gently nudging your arm. "Hey, you," he said gently, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I think it's time to run us a bath, don't you think?"
"Sure," you agreed quietly with a smile. "And then we can sleep, right?"
"I think the team might get mad at us for ditching dinner, but I'm willing to risk that."
With a laugh, you reached over and kissed him. "Good. I love you, Spencer."
"I love you, too, princess."
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Bakugou’s daughter brings home a Boyfriend
Bakugou x wife!reader
Ft. Bakugou’s daughter
Warnings: fluff, lowkey Crack, sexual mentions, small angst, cursing, Bakugou being such a dad
BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST
A/N: This is one of my favorite types of Bakugou. Domestic father Bakugou!! So bc of that fact, this piece was born. Hope you enjoy!
Bakugou as a boyfriend? Bliss. Bakugou as a fiancé? Heaven. Bakugou as a husband? Euphoric
Bakugou as a dad?.......he sure is something
Don’t get me wrong, Bakugou would be the ultimate dad
Baby crying in the middle of the night? Sleep love, daddy’s got it. Baby needs a bottle? He can warm it up with his hands. Baby’s feeling bored? Look at these mini fireworks in his hands!! Katsuki’s got it all
But that’s a baby Bakugou
Bakugou with a teenager
oOf
Katsuki’s teen will be either one of two things
His best friend
Or his mortal enemy (whom he still loves endlessly)
His 16 year old daughter, Katsumi, was both
And yes they loved each other very much, but they also got into battles on who could cook dinner better, who Y/N loved more, hell, when y’all came back from a restaurant THEY FOUGHT OVER WHO MADE IT TO THE FRONT DOOR FIRST
But this battle? Y/N might just let them Kill each other...just this once
——————————————————————————
“WHO THE FUCK IS THI-“
*SMACK* (thx Y/N)
“Daddy, this is Izuru! Izuru this is my lovely mother and that’s my shitty dad that I love so dearly!”
Katsumi definitely inherited her guts from the Bakugou’s
“Nice to meet you Mr and Mrs. Bakugou!”
Ah man, here we go
Silence. Pure, awkward, scary, silence. And of course Y/N’s nervous twitching HOPING that her dear husband doesn’t murder the green haired boy. As the young couple stand infront of the doorway smiling, the older couple is staring at them, one in nervousness, and the other in shock. (I’m talking Denki going 4 million volts shocked)
“Well.....Welcome Izuru! I knew you’d be coming over soon but I didn’t expect it tonight. It’s lovely to meet you,” Y/N ever so kindly said once she let out a sigh.
Her husband almost got whiplash from how fast he turned to look at her. “Knew?!? You knew about this kid?? And didn’t bother to tell me?!??”
“Well if I told you, you woulda stopped this meeting from happening ya jerk!” Y/N visciously explained.
“YA DAMN RIGHT CUZ-“ silenced with another smack from his wife. Y/N sure learned a lot from Mitsuki. “Please come in you two, I’ll start dinner.”
As the young couple sat in the living room speaking, the older one was in the kitchen preparing food. Well one of them was, the other was too busy burning a whole into the poor boy’s body with just his eyes.
*SMACK*
“Ow.” Continues to stare
“Suki stop that, you’re gonna scare the poor boy.” Y/N said.
“GOOD. I DONT WANT SOMEONE LIKE HIM CONTAMINATING THE BAKUGOU LINE!” The blonde dramatically yelled.
“Contaminating? Love, we don’t even know if they’ve had sex. I doubt he’s “contaminating” anything any time soon.” You said with attitude.
Bakugou just stared at you know with the same look.
“Hmph!” And turned to look back at the kids.
“HEY!” Bakugou screamed.
“Heyyyyy~” Katsumi replied.
“No not “Heyyyy~,” Katsuki began and replied with a girly impersonation of his daughter as he walk towards the couple. “I mean, HEY, as in have you had sex with this kid?” He sternly asked.
“KATSUKI OH MY GOD,” Y/N screamed as she dropped something in shock.
“.......Yeah, so what?” His daughter replied.
Y/N wasn’t even mad. She already knew. She could tell. Mother’s instinct I guess.
Katsuki was fuming.
“NOPE! NO! THIS RELATIONSHIP WONT GO ON! YOU’RE TOO YOUNG TO BE HAVING SEX!” The older blonde screamed while looking at the now blushing green haired teen and his rebellious daughter. And Y/N was just giving him this...look.
‘What a fucking hypocrite’ you thought to yourself.
“How old were you when you fucked mom?”
(ITS QUIET AINT NO BACKTALK)
Pure and utter silence.
Katsuki started stepping back from the couple while facing them and nodding his head. “.....use condoms,” and walked back to his deceased wife.
As dinner is placed on the table and everyone takes their seats, Katsuki can’t help but stare at this boy. Why does he seem so familiar?
Everyone just ate and talked. Grades, school, when did y’all meet, how long has it been? The usual. But Katsuki remained silent while thinking. And then..it clicked!
Katsuki slammed his hands on the table and stood up from his seat looking at the boy across from him. “What’s your last name?!”
Izuru was nervous because he was well aware of who Katsumi’s father was and how her father’s relationship with his own father was kinda iffy.
“M-Midoriya sir.” He nervously stated.
Katsuki saw red.
“DEKU?!??????!!!!!” He screamed
“Oh come on Katsuki! Like that wasn’t obvious!” You said rolling your eyes.
“There is NO WAY IN HELL I’m gonna let the Bakugou line be contaminated with Deku’s genes! Our family line only brings in the best of the best!” Katsuki proudly and loudly stated.
“So what am I?” Y/N asked.
“The best of the best! You were and are the perfect one for me Y/N! You know this, I know this, everyone knows this. And look at what we created-“ he was interrupted by his wife.
“A mini you?”
“A MINI ME! And who wouldn’t want that?!”
“Dad.” Katsumi said.
Now that caught Katsuki off guard. For the past 16 years, Katsumi has always been a daddy’s girl. She never called him “dad,” ew. She said “Daddy,” or “Shitty dad.” As Katsuki turned to his daughter he could see the look in her eyes.
“.......you really wanna be with this kid?” He asked.
“I really do.” Katsumi said while grabbing onto Izuru’s hand.
“...Ok then. You can be with him.” Katsuki calmly said.
Katsumi excitingly got up and ran towards her dad’s seat giving him a hug.
“Thanks daddy,” she said while giving him a kiss on the cheek.
Dinner continued on as normal as it could. Katsuki was just gonna have to learn how to let go.
Later
As the married couple got ready to sleep, Katsuki was hanging outside their balcony.
“What was up with you Blasty? I haven’t seen that kinda Katsuki since UA.” You jokingly said as you went to stand beside him.
“You’re not scared?” Katsuki asked.
“Of?”
“Katsumi. She’s growing up. She has a boyfriend now. That girl is having sex! She’s not daddy’s little girl anymore.” He sadly said.
“That’s what this is about? Katsumi growing up? Suki, this was always gonna happen. She’s in her prime teenage years. She’s 16! A lots gonna start happening.” You began.
“I know that but-“
“But nothing Katsuki. You can be scared of her growing up, I am too, but we can’t be so scared that we try and stop her. You just have to know that Katsumi will always come back to us no matter how old she is. And she will always, always be a daddy’s girl. Her entire world revolves around you Katsuki, but we gotta let her go at some point. We have to let her grow. That’s how the best of the best are made after all, right? It’s what we look for in a Bakugou.” You finished.
Katsuki couldnt do anything but smile. You were right. He knew you were. And he was willing to let his little cub grow.
“......You’ve gotta stop interrupting me when I talk.” He laughed.
“And you’ve gotta stop saying the dumbest shit in the world.” You teased back.
He pulled you in for a quick peck and just held you there in his arms. He was so glad he had you to keep him grounded. You’re the best of the best after all. It only makes sense.
“Daddy?” Katsumi walked into her parents room, unnoticed.
As the two broke the hug to see their daughter, looking a little timid, Katsuki spoke.
“Katsumi, hey princess. What’s up with you.” Katsuki asked as he walked towards his daughter.
“You’re not...disappointed in me, right? You know, for who I chose to be with. I’m sorry if I chose Izuru but I-“ this time, it was Katsuki who interrupted.
“Hey hey, no of course not baby bear. I would never be disappointed in who your true feelings pulled you to. I don’t want you to apologize for anything when today I caused most of the trouble.” Katsuki said while wiping one of his daughter’s stray tears.
“You know I’m never gonna leave you guys. Right? I’m gonna grow up but I’ll always want to have a close relationship with you and mom. I love you guys, and I’m not going anywhere.” Katsumi said.
“We know Katsumi. And we love you too. And we’re far from disappointed in you. We are so proud of the young woman you’ve become today.” Y/N joined in.
Katsumi ran to her mother and gave her the tightest hug, and Katsuki couldn’t help but stare at his two girls. His world. His entire reason for living. All right there in his arms as he pulled them in for a bigger hug.
“Thanks you guys. Well, I’m gonna head to bed. I’ve got a date with Izuru tomorrow and I don’t wanna be late.” Katsumi began walking towards her parents door until Katsuki called her.
“Hey baby bear,”
“Yeah?”
“Izuru. He seems alright. He’ll be good for you.” Katsuki admitted.
“Yeah. He really is. He’s the best of the best after all. Reminds me of someone I know.” Katsumi said while leaving the room.
Yeah. Katsuki will be just fine.
A/N: Sheesh. This kinda sucked but I did this in my literature class sooo....it’s still credible work since I was writing, right? Yeah..?....No?...yeah ok. Anyways, HOPED YOU ENJOYED IT BEAR CUBS🧸💗
P.S. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT!! And I PROMISE I’ll get better and produce more work. Feel free to leave requests!
#bakugou scenarios#bakugou angst#bakugou imagine#bakugou oneshot#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou x you#bakugo x reader#bakugo angst#bhna bakugou#bakugou fanfiction#bakugou katsuki#domestic bakugou#dad bakugo#mha fluff#mha x reader#mha#mha bakugou#mha fanfiction#bnha#bnha x reader#bnha imagines#bnha bakugo katsuki#bnha bakugou#bnha headcanons#bakugou headcanons#mha headcanons#bakugou fluff#bakugou x y/n
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The magic-spy and the bird
the best friends brother trope is in my top 5 tropes. but I've also got a thing for angst. So here we areeeee. enjoy! <3
dick Grayson x f!reader
Jason Todd had asked you specifically to ask his brother out. And he did use the word brother, which you made a point to bring up. He shot it down but still decided to push his message towards you. You should ask Dick out. It wasn’t that simple.
“Jay I don’t think you’ve thought this through.” you said.
He chuckled, “Of course I did. I wouldn’t say it out loud if it wasn’t a well-cooked plan.”
You made a face at him.
“Okay look, all I'm saying is you’ve got nothing to lose. If anything you're way out of his league.” he said and then gulped down the rest of his beer.
You didn’t like beer and so you worked on a Pina colada. You had done the whole beer thing for years now. As a trained spy it was your go-to for missions at bars. Safe to say you were sick of ales, craft beers and everything in between.
“Ah yes, the magic using spy.” you nodded your head.
Jason nodded along with you.
“Exactly. Bird brains would eat that up.” he said.
“And when would I tell him that I knew about his secret identity? Before I tell him about mine or after?” you asked.
Jason sighed and raised his hand for another beer. You rolled your eyes at this. Once he had a thought it was very hard for him to let it go. Especially when it included a thought about people he cared for- no matter how much he claimed the opposite.
“All Im saying is, you never know until you try.”
“What are you a fortune cookie?”
“Fuck off. I’m being serious and I do give great advice you can ask Duke.”
2 DAYS LATER
You look at Caliban with bated breath. He had just gotten info on a magic-based rebellion. Work was tight when you rolled with the good guys for too long of a time. You blame that on two men on your life, Jason and Constantine.
“I’ll put in a good word for you.” he says.
“Thank you, I really appreciate it. And any-”
Before you can finish telling Caliban that he can call in a favor from you at anytime your surroundings change. In a flash you go from one of the underworld crime bars to a room you’ve never been in before.
You look around and sure enough you see the culprit. Constantine.
“There she is!” he smiles.
Not only did he summon you, he did so in front of an audience. Circled around him is Gotham’s crime fighting family. All of them except Jason, Cass and Duke. All of which know about your secret identity and would’ve stopped Constantine from summoning you. The rest of the family are all looking at you liked you’ve grown a second head.
You look down at what you’re wearing. The long sleeve off the shoulder skin tight black dress was the perfect choice for the club you were supposed to be in. Maybe not so much for a meeting with the Bats and his birds.
You look right ahead at Constantine, “I don’t like being summoned.”
“Ah, but you’re the best person I know for this job. I had to get you over here.” he says.
You take a quick look at all the other people in the room. Then at the screen behind them. Your information is plastered on it. Well, the information that you’ve decided to let the government think was yours. Your codename was at the top of the screen.
“Constantine says that you’re the best way into the underworld.” Batman says.
You’re confused to say the least. Constantine was Constantine, why would he call you in order to get them into the underworld when he can do it himself? It defeats the purpose of having to call him.
“I’m sorry,” you direct to Batman and then look at your friend, “I need you to state specifically what I’m needed for.”
Constantine moved from the family over to you. As he did you watched as Nightwing followed him with his own eyes. Now Dick knows you’re not just Jason’s friend from around Gotham. Great.
“Bats got intel that something it going down with this magic group, the-” he starts.
“hex mutiny.” you finish.
“You already know about them?” Nightwing says.
“I was just getting someone to put in a good word for me with them before you summoned me here. You’ve got great timing you know that?” you say to Constantine.
He smiles, “Well then it seems like you can be of great service, spygames.”
“And what exactly would I be doing, if I can even get a spot with them?” you throw out the question to the family.
Red Robin crosses his arms, “We need someone on the inside to tell us what they are planning for Gotham.”
“I doubt they’d let a newbie in on their plans.”
“Good thing you won’t be a newbie.” Batman says.
Constantine conjures an amulet in his hand. You want to hit him over the head. He could really be a pain in the ass. You grab it from him.
“With this, you’ll be in the perfect position to get in and get out. Easy.” he says.
You shake your head, “Every time you say that I get a new scar.”
“I promise sweetheart. No scars this time.”
“Yeah yeah, you owe me for this.”
EXACTLY ONE WEEK LATER
You knew you would end up wounded. Typically with Constantine it was nothing deadly, or nothing your own magic couldn’t fix. But you knew that your luck had to run out some day. And it wasn't his fault.
After finding out what the group was really up to you couldn’t just let them operate. They weren’t really rebels. No they used that name to paint a narrative. They were fascists.
You held the wound to your waist to stop the bleeding. This would have to be the farthest you could go. There was no way you could run out of this. Not with the blood seeping through the cracks of your fingers.
At least you brunt the members down to the ash. It took a lot out of you. And that’s why you weren’t prepared for a hit that tore right through you.
“Why aren’t you moving?” Jason, or Redhood, said through the comms.
You leaned against the hallway wall.
At least you’d die someplace pretty. When you first came in you didn't notice how clean and meticulous everything was. There were painting of famous magicians on the walls. Along with some stolen art, a Van Gogh or two.
You ripped the amulet off your neck and felt the illusion fade. The necklace fell to the floor and you let out a pained breath.
“I think,” you coughed and on the clean wall was not splatters of blood, “this is it.”
You could hear Jason shouting on the other end. He was calling out your name, calling out for Constantine to come and help you. Duke was calling for you too. And you could’ve sworn you heard Cass say your name once.
With your only free hand you tried to open a portal out of the base. You knew it would be useless as you had a mortal wound and portal magic works best under no stress and panic, or blood loss. The usual light from your hands glowed faintly until it didn’t.
“Constantine can’t summon you?” Dick asked.
At that you let your body drag down the wall until you reached the floor. When you did sit down more blood came out. So you decided to lay down horizontally.
“Hey hey- I told you I wasn’t gonna let anything happen to you.” you hear Constantine through the comms.
You want to laugh, but it ends out more of a chocked gargle.
“I screwed up the mission. I deserve it.” you said.
“You did good. Better than any of us.” Batman said.
“Constantine you need to call in whatever favors you have to get her out of there. Now!” Jason shouted.
“Dont,” you started.
“No. We’re getting you out of there-”
“Jason, I’m not a saint. I never would’ve imagined going out like this.” you said.
Once you were born you were thrusted in this world. All you knew was to use magic as a weapon. To get ahead, to get power, to get the glory. And that lasted you until you turned 19.
Then Constantine crossed paths with you. He was the one to show you that magic has other uses. Such as helping and healing. You learned the best stuff from him. And you took what you learned and began to help in ways you could.
You didn’t go on the straight and narrow. Never did you consider yourself a morally correct person. Sometimes the lines were blurred, or they need to be blurred. And so you took down seedy organizations, went on recon missions all over the world.
It wasn’t justice. But it was close enough that you could sleep at night or the odd hours of the morning for more than four hours.
“Sweetheart I don’t break my promises.” Constantine said finally.
You were just beginning to feel your eyes grow heavy. The pain was starting to be comfortably numb. Then above you appeared someone you weren’t expecting in the slightest.
“Caliban?” you asked.
“You owe me double.”
4 DAYS LATER
When you woke up you felt battered and weak You weren’t used to these feelings and you weren’t used to being so close to death. Everyday was a new experience when you’re the Priestess of Espionage.
You cracked open one eye to find a couple of deviants at your side. Jason, Duke and Cass. The youngest took the chair next to you while Duke and Jason seemed to take the floor. Since they weren’t in their gear you guessed that you were out for longer than a couple of hours.
“Not my version of hell but I’ll allow it.” you say in a raspy voice.
It wakes everyone up.
Jason and Duke bolt to your bedside.
“Why’d you almost die on me?” and “Are you feeling okay?” come from them both, respectively. It makes you want to laugh but when you feel the ache in your waist you stop yourself.
“I’m alive, so there’s that. Positives.” you answer.
Jason shoots his younger siblings a look and they scurry out the room. You try to sit up to ask what it was for but he puts his hands up for you to stop any movement. So you lay back down.
“He would kill me if you tore your stitches.”
You shut your eyes, “Jason I don’t think Constantine would kill you per say.”
You hear the door opening so you decide to open your eyes. And sure enough you see Jason leaving the room and someone coming in. Dick Grayson, out of his suit as well.
As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t read his face. Besides the clear betrayal that was there. He definitely knew that you knew he’s Nightwing.
“Hi.” you say.
His face softens, “Hi.”
“I just want to say that I would’ve told you about who I am. Sooner that you think actually but this mission kinda derailed all of that.” you say.
With his arm crossed over his chest he nods, “How long did you know I was Nightwing?”
You wince.
“For about two years now. Once Jason told me he was Red it was hard to not notice the similarities of the Wayne family and the Bat one.”
He laughs at that and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It must be going good if he wants to laugh.
“And when did he tell you that I like you?” he asks.
“He didn’t explicitly say that.”
There’s a beat of silence. You’re looking at him and he’s looking at you. But he’s the one who seems to be holding his breath this time. You try to hide the smirk you feel forming on your lips.
“What?” he asks.
“Jason had told me that I should ask you out. He didn’t say anything about you liking me.” you answer him.
The red tint that covered Dick Grayson was absolutely adorable.
He nods his head to himself. Twice.
“I- I’m gonna get Jason for you.” he moved to the door.
And you don’t really know what to say. All your words get jumbled in your brain and you can’t put them together in a way that is smooth enough so you deicide to just try your best.
“If you were to ask me out, I would say yes.” you say.
He looks directly at you. Then his signature smirk appears.
“I’ll bring back some food for later.” he says.
“it’s a date.” you answer.
#dc x reader#Dick Grayson x reader#nightwing x reader#Dick Grayson imagine#nightwing imagine#dc imagine#dc#nightwing#Dick Grayson#Jason Todd x reader#Jason todd imagine
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no thoughts only taakitz superhero/villain coffeeshop au. taako’s power is shapeshifting but he has a cool gun from lup. kravitz’s power is Big Fuckin Scythe With Unspecified Abilities. also there was no time to get into it but fantasy starbucks isn’t a real starbucks it’s a borderline illegal unaffiliated bootleg starbucks that taako and lup own. like dumb starbucks was.
By all rights, it should have been a fairly routine night for the Reaper. Go out, stop some crimes, arrive just in time to prevent whatever scheme the Mongoose had cooked up this week, exchange some one liners, make some threats that essentially amounted to ‘same time next week?’, the works. A regular Tuesday as a superhero in Neverwinter.
But Kravitz is tired, and more than a little distracted, so he’s not doing so hot on the one liners, and the Mongoose’s attacks are a little closer than they would normally be. He doesn’t even have a good excuse, it’s not like he’s injured, or that he has anything pressing to think of.
It was just— this morning his barista (who he may or may not have been harbouring a small crush on) had mentioned offhand that he thought the Reaper was ‘probably hot under the stupid all-black getup’, and Kravitz didn’t really know what the protocol was for someone complimenting your alter-ego was.
“I think if you were gonna go for the strong silent type, you had to start doing it months ago. Now it’s just acting like an asshole. Are you mad at me?” the Mongoose cuts into his thoughts, firing off another few missiles from his stupid umbrella gun (Umbrastaff, he called it, although it was a gun and not a staff so Kravitz had no idea why he insisted on calling it that).
“We are literally fighting as we speak,” says Kravitz, playing up the cockney accent, spinning his scythe to deflect the missiles off the blade, sending them ricocheting around the room. He’d said something like ‘how can you tell’ to Taako— the barista (well, they’d been on a first name basis for a few weeks, so, Taako), and he’d said ‘I can just tell’ which was not at all helpful in getting Kravitz through the conversation without saying or doing something to give himself away.
He’d almost given Taako his number, but how was he going to justify that? Hey, it’s me under the all black getup. Do you want to go out sometime? As if.
“You can have fights without being fuckin’ rude,” says the Mongoose, firing off another few rounds, which Kravitz deflects again, advancing on him.
“You’re right, sorry. I’m a bit scattered. Not exactly my A game.” As if to prove his point, the Mongoose easily dodges his next couple swings with the scythe, not even bothering to leave his range.
“Clearly. I mean, normally you’re at least close enough that I can feel the breeze from your sword.”
“It’s not a sword, and you know that.” Kravitz brings down the scythe in the space where the Mongoose was only seconds before, having already backflipped out of the way and landed a few metres back. Show off. Not that Kravitz had room to complain about that. The Mongoose spins to face him again, at least this time seemingly aware of what a close call that was. He’s tense, and his hair, which Kravitz supposes has thus far been hidden underneath his costume, has come somewhat unravelled, black braid falling to the middle of his back.
It seems... familiar?
He doesn’t have time for that right now. Kravitz draws back the scythe, feeling the hum of energy under his fingers, swinging again, and—
“Wait! Time out!” the Mongoose puts up a hand and Kravitz, for who knows what reason, stops his scythe mid-swing. The familiarity sticks, so it’s not just a trick of the light. It takes him a second to place, but the hairstyle... it looks a lot like a certain barista he’d been spending all night thinking about.
He shakes his head, trying to clear it. It’s because he has Taako on the brain, is all. Besides, he has other things to worry about besides seeing his crush in his enemy. Namely the fight currently happening with said enemy. “What? You can’t call a time out.”
“I just did,” says the Mongoose, fishing through his pockets and pulling out several bobby pins, sticking them in his mouth so he can use both hands to fix his hair. Kravitz blinks, still trying to shake off the sense of deja vu, but it won’t quit nagging him. “It’s a whole safety issue to leave long hair down.”
“It’s still in a braid,” retorts Kravitz.
“Somebody never took Foodsafe.” the Mongoose gives him a lopsided grin that Kravitz fucking knows he’s seen before, and suddenly it’s more than just passing familiarity, and how could he possibly have not noticed before, and— the Mongoose finishes putting up his hair, raising an eyebrow at Kravitz and his private crisis. “Alright. Ready—”
“You work at Fantasy Starbucks,” blurts Kravitz, without even thinking about it. The Mongoose stops dead in his tracks, and Kravitz can see his eyes widen even behind the mask. He splutters for a moment, and then seems to find his footing, already ready with a snarky remark.
“Yeah, well— your accent is fake.”
Shit. He’d forgotten. At the only time so far that having it would have been useful too. Still, he pushes it out of his mind; the Mongoose hadn’t denied it. And, well, he’s already solidly derailed this fight, so he might as well get some real confirmation out of it.
“...Taako? It is you, isn’t it?”
“Just who the fuck are y—” The Mongoose— Taako— levels the Umbrastaff at him, and then stops again. “...Kravitz?”
Well. Shit. Again. Kravitz doesn’t bother to affirm that; his silence is more than enough confirmation. One of them has to say or do something, but the seconds stretch on.
“You’re telling me I said all that shit to your face this morning?” says Taako.
“That’s what you’re worried about right now?”
“Uh, yeah—” Taako is backing up now, and they’ve fought enough times that Kravitz knows when the Mongoose is looking for an escape route; Kravitz’s feet still feel glued to the floor, even when Taako reaches the window, fingers already turning to talons around the Umbrastaff. Taako breaks the glass (because of course he does, even though the windows aren’t even fucking locked), breaking eye contact with Kravitz in order to swing his legs through the window before his form changes too much. “Look, this is like, a lot right now, and I— I���m getting the fuck out of here,” he says, and then drops. Whatever had been keeping Kravitz in place, slack jawed, ends as soon as Taako leaves his sight, and he’s moving before he has time to think about it.
“Wait—!” Kravitz runs for the window, but by the time he gets there, the bird clutching the Umbrastaff is nearly out of sight.
Well. That could have gone better.
***
Kravitz doesn’t go for his coffee the next day. Or the next day, either, although the day after that he’s sick of making his own coffee. And frankly, he misses chatting with Taako. Even if the guy was trying to kill him like once a week. He couldn’t just avoid this forever.
Still, the fact that Taako is working cash when he comes in makes him want to turn tail and run back home. He conjures up the memory of yesterday’s shitty coffee and pushes onward. The shop is mostly empty still, so there’s no line.
“The usual?” says Taako, like nothing abnormal has happened.
“Please,” says Kravitz, and then, before he can chicken out entirely, adds, “Uhm, do you have a few minutes?”
“My shift isn’t over until—”
“I’ll cover you,” comes Lup’s voice from the back room; she pokes her head out and gives Taako a look that is clearly significant, but that Kravitz can’t quite puzzle out. “Take five minutes after you’re done making his coffee.”
Taako scowls at her, and she smiles brightly before heading to the back again.
“Okay. I guess I have five minutes. Talk to you after I make your coffee.”
Kravitz nods, and goes to hover around the pickup counter, pretending to be interested in things on his phone. Taako makes his coffee in a ceramic mug, which at least means he doesn’t want Kravitz to get the fuck out as soon as possible, so that’s... something.
Taako slides the finished coffee across the counter, circling around to join Kravitz on the customer side as Kravitz grabs the mug.
“Lup!” he hollers, and then starts walking towards one of the corner booths without checking to see if his sister is headed to cash or if Kravitz is following. Kravitz does, though, sliding himself into the seat opposite Taako, hands wrapped tightly around the mug.
Taako speaks first. “To be honest, I kinda thought you would rat me out.”
“That would be shitty of me, to just sic authorities on your place of work without so much as a warning.”
“So is this the warning?”
“No,” says Kravitz, taking a sip of his coffee, “I... can’t really make coffee without burning it. And this is the only place for miles with tolerable muffins.”
Taako cracks a grin, like Kravitz knew he would. “Flattery will get you nowhere.” His smile falls, and he crosses his arms and leans back. “So. Reaper. Why didn’t you rat me out?”
Why indeed. Kravitz takes another sip of his coffee and thinks for a second, not even sure himself what his explanation will be once he starts talking.
“It didn’t seem... fair. You’re less of a villain and more of a pain in my ass—” Kravitz ignores Taako’s indignant noise and keeps talking, “—and while we always have cause to fight when on the clock, you’re not doing anything that I feel needs to leave the bounds of those... work hours, I guess.”
Taako is trying to pick him apart with his gaze; it’s something he’s been subjected to several times, although normally in costume, and in retrospect it’s difficult to imagine how he spent so long not noticing the Mongoose in Taako.
Whatever Taako is looking for, he must find it, because he relaxes a bit, and shoots him a lazy grin. “Plus, Mongoose related insurance just got rolling and it would be fuckin’ rude to take me out of commission before anyone got to use theirs.”
Kravitz laughs. “Sure.” He’s silent for a second, before adding, “You aren’t planning on revealing my secret identity, are you? Awfully rude of you to double cross me like that.”
“Wha— You didn’t even give me a chance to respond! Maybe I wasn’t!”
“Were you?”
“I was,” admits Taako, not even pretending to look sheepish. Kravitz raises his eyebrows, and Taako shrugs. “Oh, like you didn’t think about revealing my secret identity? And could you imagine the hype if I unmasked the Reaper? I was tempted.” He sighs. “But I figured then you’d have no reason to keep my identity a secret. No way am I risking a backfire like that.”
It sounds callous, but Kravitz has been talking to Taako almost daily for months; at this point, he can pretty reliably pick up on when Taako isn’t being entirely truthful about something.
“Hmm. Then I suppose it’d be in my best interest not to tell you that I wouldn’t reveal your identity even if you revealed mine?”
Taako narrows his eyes. “Why not?”
Kravitz makes a face. “It’s just in poor taste. I just think we all go through all the trouble to hide who we are and use these powers for good— or whatever it is you do— that it’s always going to be such a low blow to reveal who we are. There might be times where it’s necessary, but petty revenge is not one of them.”
Taako’s expression hasn’t changed; if anything, he’s narrowed his eyes more. “God, you are like— fuckin’ irritatingly nice. Fine. I wasn’t going to reveal your identity. That would be fuckin’ annoying to deal with. Plus I’m having fun.”
“Fun?”
“Oh don’t— don’t fucking lie to me. I know you’re having fun out there too. With your stupid accent and one liners and shit.”
“Alright, alright,” says Kravitz, rolling his eyes. “But I’m not supposed to be having fun, so keep it quiet.”
“See, that’s why I market myself as a villain. No dumb rules.” He puts an elbow on the table and leans on his hand. “Why do you have a fake accent anyway?”
Heat rises to Kravitz’s face, and he’s hoping he looks less embarrassed than he feels. “It’s my— I do it so people don’t recognize my voice.”
Taako laughs. “Well, it doesn’t really do that if you immediately stop using it when you realize you might know someone.”
“I was caught off guard!” defends Kravitz. “It’s not every day you find out your nemesis is your barista.”
“Nemesis, huh?” Taako grins. “Didn’t realize it was that serious to you. You know I have other heroes to fight.”
Kravitz rolls his eyes again. “I don’t see how you have the time, considering how often you’re causing trouble for me.”
Taako laughs, and it’s so contagious and the whole conversation is so surreal Kravitz can’t help but laugh too, before they both lapse into a comfortable, if drawn out, silence.
“So, uh,” says Taako eventually, “what now?”
“Well,” says Kravitz, “I want to keep coming in for coffee in the mornings. And I assume the Mongoose will continue with... whatever chaos it is you currently have planned.”
“It’s not chaos,” insists Taako, “I have plans. But yeah. And I assume the Reaper is gonna show up and throw a wrench in those plans?”
“Yes, probably. So we’ll just be enemies by night...” Kravitz trails off, not entirely sure how to refer to their by day relationship. Friends? Potential love interests? Acquaintances? There’s a few seconds of awkward silence before Kravitz gives up entirely.
Taako pulls and pen and a napkin out of his pocket, jotting something down and pushing it towards Kravitz.
“Here’s, uh, here’s my number. If you give me a heads up five minutes before you get here, we can have your coffee ready by the time you walk in. If you’re nice to me out there.”
“I don’t take bribes,” says Kravitz, grabbing the napkin and pulling out his phone to type in the number.
“That wasn’t a bribe, it was a threat. You don’t even wanna know what I’ll do to your coffee if you fuck me up.”
Kravitz doesn’t bother to point out that neither of them have ever caused any extreme bodily harm to one another and instead says, “So you’re asking me to go easy on you? I thought you were having fun.” He sends Taako a ‘hey it’s kravitz’ text before he has time to second guess himself.
“Could you stop poking holes in my threats? You’re harshing my fuckin’ vibe, Krav.” He sounds irritated, but Kravitz can see the smile tugging at his lips as he texts Kravitz a couple of skull emojis. “I should get back to work before my sister kicks my ass,” he says, standing back up. “I’ll see you tonight, nemesis.” Then he turns on his heels and heads back to the counter, saying something to Lup as he walks by. Kravitz watches him disappear into the back room.
Tonight.
Kravitz had better make sure he had hung his cloak up to dry.
#this is like. 2k words of unpolished nonsense that desperately needs an edit BUT i had a lot of fun with it#i dont know how the powers work or where they are or why they're fighting or who theyre affiliated with ok just roll w/#*roll w/me on this one. just go with it#taako's name was selected by virtue of being the only thing on his wiki page that sounded even remotely like a good supervillain name#taakitz#taz balance#mine
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An All-American January Christmas
Fandom: Hawkeye
Pairing: Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova
Rating: T
Word Count: 4591
Summary:
Kate takes Yelena on the ultimate Christmas adventure: grocery shopping.
“I know your full name. Your GPA. I know your favourite grocery store,” Yelena lists off, grumbling. “I did not expect that last one to become relevant.”
Kate turns and beams back at her, unaffected by her companion’s apparent misery or the strobing line of fluorescents lighting this aisle.
“Aw, come on,” Kate says. “Grocery shopping’s the best! In some ways, it’s the most fun part of the holidays.”
Yelena looks frankly angry that she would make such an assertion, so Kate hastily elaborates: “You get to pick all the food you’re going to feast on. It’s whatever you want. It’s amazing. You should be totally into this.”
“It’s hardly the Empire State Building,” Yelena mumbles. Her forearms are already resting on the shopping cart’s handle, but she lowers her chin onto the back of her hand, moping.
“Yeah, but you’ve been here three weeks now. You’ve done that stuff.”
Kate finds the boxed mac ’n’ cheese they both prefer and shakes it enticingly before dropping it into their cart. Yelena’s expression doesn’t change.
“If you think this is an incredible addition to my sightseeing tour, I must disappoint you.”
“Ah. You won’t be saying that once we get a-cookin’!”
“I don’t cook.”
“Then how do you eat?”
“I order take-out, duh. Or sometimes I kill someone who has just finished preparing their dinner, and I eat that.”
Kate frowns.
“That’s not funny.”
“It’s a little bit funny,” Yelena says. “Not as funny as you, but hey, I try, you know?”
“You made mac ’n’ cheese,” Kate counters, slightly flustered by the compliment as she leads Yelena to the end of the aisle and around to the next one.
“The instructions are on the box.”
“You added hot sauce though!” She snaps her fingers and points at Yelena, excited by her own airtight argument. “That’s cooking!”
“I am beginning to think you had an upbringing as detached from reality as mine was.”
“Yeah, well.”
Kate pauses, perusing a row of cans. In the brief time she’s know the Black Widow, she’s seen Yelena scrape a pot/plate/bowl clean, grating metal on metal to get the last noodle with a fork, the last puddle of soup with a spoon. She’s seen Yelena get in there with her tongue to lick off whatever was left when cutlery failed her. (Kate had swallowed thickly and felt her brain disappear in a puff of smoke, staring at her dumbly until Yelena had brought her out of it with a defensively snapped, “What? It’s good!”)
She grabs one can—two, in case this dish goes over well.
“I grew up privileged—as my mother loves to remind me—and that always messes you up. Although I think having my family torn apart by an alien invasion left its mark too.”
“Hey,” Yelena says, softer and less snarky than she’s been since they walked through the grocery store’s automatic doors. “Cheers to a fucked-up childhood.”
She takes one of the cans and taps it against the other, still in Kate’s hand. A sideways smile creeps up Kate’s face.
“Cheers to having overdeveloped combat skills while lacking the fundamentals,” she offers in return.
“Ваше здоровье.” Yelena rotates the can in her hand. “What is this, by the way?”
“Cranberries.”
“Cranberries are fruit.”
“Yeah, but we don’t need them to be fruit,” Kate explains, “we need them to be sauce.”
“Can you not make the sauce out of the fruit?”
“Me? Like, personally? I dunno, maybe. I’ve never tried. But the great thing is that canned cranberry sauce not only exists but it exists as a festive norm, present on most Christmas dinner tables.”
Yelena’s face says she’s having her doubts.
“Also,” Kate says, “they’re totally jellified in there; they make a gross sluuuurp noise when they plop out of the can.”
“Ok, that sounds pretty great.”
“Oh, it’s fantastic. You’re gonna love it.”
Kate strides to the end of the aisle, heading for the bakery section. Their cart has an unfortunate wheel that squeals and spins around, and when she doesn’t hear it immediately, she turns back. Yelena’s been dragging her feet since they came in here!
“What’s the deal? I thought you were enjoying this now.”
“You’re making me push the cart,” Yelena pouts.
“Pushing the cart is the most important job,” Kate says soothingly.
“Do not patronize. I am still a deadly assassin.”
There’s a gasp and the two of them turn to watch a young boy slowly back away from the boxed Danishes he was approaching.
Yelena jerks her chin at the kid in acknowledgement and offers an intimidatingly unsmiling, “Hey. Happy holidays.”
The boy flees.
“Yeah,” Yelena explains, “I’m not that good with children. I stopped in at my friend’s house, Ana, and she says her family is so great, you know? Her daughter is so friendly and curious and she is so proud. But when I am there, her daughter is just staring at me, so rude.”
“And what were you doing while she was staring?” Kate asked, trying not to sound too amused.
“Eating a muffin.”
“Just eating a muffin?”
“With a knife.”
A laugh bursts from Kate.
“You ate a muffin with a knife and fork? Cut it up? That’s hilarious!”
“No,” Yelena corrects, “no fork. Just the knife.”
She mimes impaling the muffin. She chews the air around her imaginary knife. To Kate, Yelena looks like a lion chomping on a corncob. She can understand a small child being ever-so-slightly taken aback by that kind of display.
“Oh, so like a total psycho then,” Kate says lightly.
“What?” Yelena whines. “You stab it and pick it up. It’s the easiest way to eat the bottom first and save the crunchy top part for last.”
Kate laughs.
“I guess you’re right.”
“I am right,” she hears Yelena say under her breath.
The cart is still slow to follow, so Kate stops a second time.
“Why are you so bummed about pushing the cart?” she demands.
Yelena’s relaxed mouth tightens and her jaw juts out.
“Just tell me,” Kate pushes.
“I want to sit in it.”
“In the cart?”
“I remember going to get the groceries with my mama sometimes, in the afternoon, before Natasha came home from school. Mama would push and I would… I would ride in the cart,” Yelena finishes defiantly, bracing for criticism, Kate assumes by her posture. “Happy memory.”
“Well, get in then,” Kate invites.
Yelena leans away from her as she takes the cart’s handle.
“What?”
“Get in.”
Kate sees the smile Yelena swiftly suppresses. What a dork. As if Kate cares whether she’s pushing the cart or hopping over the side to sit inside it, crossing her legs to fit. Yelena gathers her braid in her hand so it won’t get caught in the folding child seat. She twists and glances up at Kate, giving her a tough look.
“Still deadly assassin.”
“Of course,” Kate agrees, nodding solemnly. She has to give the cart an extra push to get it rolling now that Yelena’s sitting in it.
“Don’t act like I’m too heavy to push,” Yelena directs.
“All you had to push were cranberries and mac ’n’ cheese.”
“Pushing me is good for you. Leg workout. Good for thighs.”
Kate snorts and wheels them up to the rack of reduced-price baked goods. She starts picking through, shifting boxes of donuts and pies, searching for a suitable loaf.
“Aren’t you rich?” Yelena bluntly inquires, watching Kate choose. “Why are you buying old bread?”
Kate smiles.
“It needs to be stale for the dressing.”
“Dressing?”
“The part you shove inside the turkey. With, like, onions, and celery, and mushrooms, and cranberries sometimes—”
“OH!” Yelena shouts. “The stuffing! Yes, I remember this.”
“It’s also called dressing,” Kate says.
“I would know what you’re talking about if you used right word.”
“Uhhh, both words are used pretty commonly.”
“I am remembering more things all the time. I’m going to be a better American than you so soon.”
“Yeah, alright.” Kate rolls her eyes.
“So soon. Like that.” Yelena snaps her fingers for emphasis.
She can’t see Yelena’s face as they continue to wind their way through the store, but Kate’s very aware of her shopping buddy’s smugness. It’s in her straight back, the square set of her shoulders beneath the furry, brown coat. Yelena’s even gripping both sides of the cart as if she’s the one steering. Kate keeps to herself the fact that Yelena looks more like a toddler hemmed in by a childproof fence. She’s adorable. It’s probably a dangerous thing to think—it’d be a dangerous thing to admit out loud (Yelena might actually kill her)—but she does think it. Yelena is adorable. She’s adorable and she’s coming home with Kate for a January Christmas feast.
It’s hard to tell whether Yelena is aware of how incredibly kind this is; she’s sharp and insightful and she pretends to be rusty and awkward at the friendship thing, but she’s known tremendous loss, which is impossible without knowing tremendous love, and… Kate is thankful, that’s all.
Leaving the Barton Christmas? It was hard. And it wasn’t. As many times as Laura hugged her, or Lila led her outside for target practice, or Cooper challenged her to video games, or Nate tried to teach her to draw (humiliatingly, they’re at basically the same skill level), part of Kate wanted to get out of there. That was for Clint. He deserved a safe, happy family Christmas. Who knew how many of those he’d missed in his risk-riddled lifetime?
She still let herself get talked into staying for New Year’s, but that was it. Before heading home to New York, Kate made peace with the loneliness she’d face. Dad long dead. Mom freshly incarcerated. She’s still working out a wobbly new bond with Jack. (Not to mention struggling to find him the right present—what do you buy the guy who was engaged to your mother, whose arrest was kinda-sorta-maybe your fault, who you almost stabbed in the face on purpose, whose endearingly step-fatherly Christmas-morning text was 80% emojis but still made you tear up?)
She wasn’t expecting to come back to find somebody as hopeful and alone, as wounded and free as she was. She wasn’t expecting Yelena.
And she is really grateful for whatever partial patch-up Clint and Yelena managed (he was stoically tight-lipped about it over Christmas, leading Kate to believe Natasha had a lot to do with their budding truce). It makes her feel so much less guilty about the whole situation of having a major crush on the Black Widow assassin who tried to take out her partner. Seriously. What a load off her mind.
They swing out of the produce section and towards the checkout.
“Maybe they’ll give you free groceries,” Yelena suggests.
“Why would they do that?”
“For being famous.”
Kate laughs uncomfortably.
“I don’t think I’m that recognizable.”
With a little struggling that tests their cart’s unreliable wheel, Yelena repositions herself until she’s sitting facing Kate. The loaf of bread is in her lap. The hand she gestures towards Kate holds a potato.
“You’re wearing purple,” Yelena says. Kate darts a look down at her coordinated sweatsuit, visible under her open coat. “Like, the exact shade of your superhero outfit. With even the same ponytail.”
Kate touches her ponytail self-consciously, but Yelena is merciless.
“You need to be more versatile with your hair. You want people to know who you are? Ok,” she allows with a shrug. “One look for that. Ponytail while doing the arrows and falling out of the buildings. The rest of the time, no ponytail. Otherwise, everyone bothers you, trying to have a chat, trying to get your autograph. Or trying to kill you.” Yelena shrugs again. “Depending on the person.”
“Or both,” Kate says thoughtfully. “There was one Tracksuit Mafia guy…”
She waves off the ending of her own anecdote. Not important. Not as important, anyway, as the way Yelena’s looking at her. Fine, she’s only looking at her like that because Kate is agreeing with what she said, possibly letting herself be mentored in the art of incognito bad-assery and grocery acquisition, but it still makes Kate trip over her own feet and slam the end of the cart into the magazine rack next to the conveyor belt. A tabloid flops onto Yelena’s lap, atop the bread. She studies it for a minute while Kate gives the cashier an apologetic smile for the collision and begins transferring their items onto the belt.
As she’s peeling Yelena’s distracted fingers off the potato, Yelena meets her eye and holds up the magazine to show Kate the cover: a smiling Meghan and Harry.
“How many years do you think before he loses all his hair?” she asks.
Kate’s at a loss for words, but Yelena, as sure of herself as ever, turns and slaps the magazine down beside their groceries.
“I’m getting this too,” she says. “I want to see if they asked him about his hair. My father will be curious. I can text him.”
Maintaining a painful smile for the cashier—whose offended expression says she might be a Prince Harry fan—Kate gets them out of there as fast as she can.
—
Getting Yelena through the front door of the Bishop residence is like getting Lucky to walk in the opposite direction of the scent of pizza (which, in Manhattan, is a recurring problem): it’s hard. There’s a lotta verbal coaxing. In lieu of an encouraging scratch behind the ears or beneath the chin, Kate would like to—god, gettin’ crazy now—weave her fingers between her guest’s, or tug at her jacket’s fluffy lapel.
She’s gonna swoon at the thought, but she can’t swoon, because the grocery bag she’s carrying has the potatoes at the bottom and if she swoons, she’ll probably fall on them and mash them, and they’re not supposed to get mashed until they’re in a pot on the stove.
Kate takes a breath and decides to handle this gently, just to get the damn assassin into her house.
“Uh, Yelena? Kinda hard to have our Christmas feast out here in the hall. I need to turn the oven on for the turkey. And the stove! We need the stove, otherwise we’ll be eating raw potatoes.”
“I’ve eaten much worse,” Yelena says gruffly.
Sighing in exasperation, Kate grimaces. Her arms are getting tired of holding most of the bags.
“Do I need to go back for a shopping cart so I can push you in?!”
Yelena gives her a sideways look that starts out unreadable before softening into something Kate might almost call vulnerable.
“These are not the usual circumstances for me to be entering somebody’s home,” she says.
“Yeah, no murders today, please. It’s just me and Lucky—who’s probably in here sleeping on some expensive piece of my mom’s furniture that he’s definitely not allowed to be on—and I’m pretty attached to both of us.” Kate stands there for a few seconds, subtly rolling her shoulders to ease the strain. “You could break in through an upstairs window, if you want? No no no, don’t do that, I take it back.”
“Still an invitation, Kate Bishop.” Yelena finally smiles at her. Between that and the way she says her name, Kate gets a little shiver. Yelena’s going to think her arms are weak as shit. “You take all the fun out of breaking and entering.”
“My bad. It’s totally safe though,” Kate promises, eyes lifting towards the high ceiling of the entry hall. “I guess it might be hard for you to turn off, but you don’t have to be so on your guard here.”
“Totally safe,” Yelena repeats.
“Yeah. My mom runs a security company, remember? Ran. She ran a security company.”
Yelena stares at her.
“…Which was obviously not very secure,” Kate concedes, smiling sheepishly. “Point taken. But I’m here now!” She beams.
“Oh? Are you going to protect me, Kate Bishop?”
Yelena’s smile is dangerous and Kate is far from unflappable in the face of it.
“Uh, yes? Yes,” she says with more conviction.
“Alright.” Yelena sniffs. “Let’s cook the absolute shit out of this big bird you bought.”
Her dour resolve says she’s ready to slowly roast the turkey over an open pit while the reflected flames dance hellishly in her eyes, so Kate holds her breath as she neatly (mostly) hefts the turkey into the roasting pan and slides it into one of their kitchen’s two spacious ovens, hoping her guest won’t be disappointed. There’s no butchery—no grim, life-stealing stab of the knife Kate got out to chop the potatoes. Yelena doesn’t even fight to get to be the one to sew up the turkey, though she does watch Kate’s fingers while she sews. Miraculously, Kate’s dexterous enough not to stab the thick needle into her hand and focused enough not to sew her hand to a dead bird’s ass, even with Yelena’s intense attention.
“Ok,” she announces brightly, slamming the oven door on their raw and well-buttered friend. “Now we make the rest of it while our pal gets golden and crispy.”
“First wash your hands,” Yelena instructs.
“I was going to.”
“With soap.”
“I know,” Kate insists, pumping her palm full of foam and turning on the faucet with her elbow. “You’re awfully bossy in the kitchen for someone who doesn’t cook.”
Yelena ignores this assessment.
“We need aprons.”
And while Kate’s digging through a low cupboard to look for some, the knees of her purple sweatpants sliding on the tile, Yelena adds, “Cooking is like killing. You don’t want to get all the gunk on your clothes.”
“You…” Kate huffs, standing up and thrusting one of the two aprons she found at Yelena. “…are full of strange wisdom.”
“I know.”
Kate’s already looping the strap of her apron over her head as Yelena unfolds her own, both of them staring at it. Then Kate bursts out laughing.
“That must be Jack’s.”
It’s longer and wider than Kate’s—evidently designed with a larger frame in mind—but the best part, the part that has her eyes tearing, is that the front reads Kiss the Cook in a sassy, swirly script.
“Now that is just mean,” Yelena protests, donning the apron. “Laughing because you think nobody would kiss me.”
Instantly, Kate’s clearing her throat where her laughter gave way to this thick and rubbery feeling. She zips to the mostly-empty grocery bag, stumbling in her sock-feet, and retrieves the potatoes. They roll unevenly across the countertop and she stills them with clammy palms before lurching away.
“I-I don’t think that.”
“Good,” Yelena says firmly. She plucks the knife from the counter. It’s a blur, spinning on her palm, before Yelena’s hand closes confidently around the handle and decisively chops a potato into perfect halves with the blade. “I don’t need to cook fancy things. My mac ’n’ cheese abilities are excellent.”
“They are.”
“It’s very seductive. I could seduce somebody with my mac and cheese from the box. It’s irresistible. They would be so seduced.”
Kate nods, and not just because Yelena has half-turned towards her, gesturing with her very sharp knife. Yelena could seduce somebody with mac and cheese. She did.
The best thing to do, Kate figures, is break the one-sided tension by opening the cranberry sauce and slopping it into a priceless cutglass bowl. It sluuuurps horrifically from the can and Yelena claps and cheers.
“That was disgusting,” she pronounces. “I can’t wait to eat that.”
She bends forward, sniffing carefully at the scarlet jelly. When she tilts her head to check it out from all angles, her braid swings forward. Without thinking, Kate reaches to catch it before Yelena gets food in her hair.
Before she can blink, Yelena’s tight grip is around her wrist. Her expression is a warning—if she still had that coat on, its fur would probably be bristling—but that fades rapidly.
“Reflex,” she says, releasing Kate.
Kate swallows and reaches again for Yelena’s braid, though she’s jerked to stand straight and the food-hair hazard is gone.
“I was just going to…”
Kate finishes explaining by not explaining. In a motion that looks easier than it feels, she brushes Yelena’s braid back over her shoulder.
“There,” she says, exhaling.
For a long minute, Yelena stares back at her. Kate’s eyes start to burn with how much she needs to blink. She can stay strong though—she wasn’t the fifth-grade staring-contest champion for nothing. Then her guest is chopping potatoes again, head bent forward carefully to keep her braid in place.
“Big pieces?” Yelena asks. “Chunks?”
“Yeah. Yeah, uh, not too big, but not… minced or… or anything…” Half of Kate’s brain is dwelling gleefully on the important new information she’s just acquired (what Yelena’s hair feels like) when the other half shifts to the cooking. The potatoes look wrong. Her full brain engages. “Oh shit! We forgot to peel them!”
“Who is ‘we’? ‘We forgot,’” Yelena scoffs, stepping back as Kate edges in to peel the remaining whole potatoes plus the cubes Yelena’s created. “Do I know this instinctually? No. Same way I don’t know you have a specific needle for… for…” She motions to her throat. “…for sew turkey’s neck shut. So rich! So precious about needles! If I had to find a specific neck-sewing needle before I could sew my neck shut, you know what happens? I bleed out. Нет. One needle. Same for hip, same for arm, same for neck.”
Kate pauses and gives Yelena a freaked-out look, eyes wide.
“You’ve really been through it, huh?”
“At least I never had to sew my ass shut, Kate Bishop. Things can always be worse.”
Kate lets out a laugh and Yelena snorts, cracking up with her. Gently, she prods Kate in the ribs, elbowing her aside to take over peeling.
“I know how to peel a potato.”
Kate sighs loudly, throwing up her hands.
“So why didn’t you then?!”
“I thought maybe you like to eat the skin! What am I going to do, ruin your Christmas by taking away your favourite part of the meal? Potato skin?” Another laugh vibrates up Kate’s throat and soon her eyes are blurry with hysterical tears as Yelena goes on, skinning perfect strips off the potatoes all the while. “If I take away all of your potato skins, where will you get your vitamins, Kate Bishop? Hmm? So many irreplaceable health benefits. Maybe you will get very sick and then what for me? I can’t leave when you’re getting scurvy. I can’t have this on my conscience. I am very sensitive.”
Still chuckling, Kate forces out, “How long… so how long are you staying in New York?”
She sees Yelena’s calculating sideways glance and tries to look less curious than she feels. Not too blatantly flippin’ obvious that she wants Yelena to stay. Wants her to want to stay. Kate leans back against the kitchen’s island, drumming her short nails on its side.
Done with the potatoes, Yelena turns, raising her chin as she observes Kate.
“I am still thinking,” she says.
“So you’re not, like, taking off tomorrow or anything.”
“No. Tomorrow is Saturday. It’s much easier to get a flight during the week.”
“Oh, so maybe Monday then.”
Kate’s disappointed and, dammit, she can hear it in her voice. Which means that Yelena can probably spot the fleeting downturn of her mouth. Jeeze, with her honed assassin senses, she can probably smell her disappointment, somewhere under the funk of raw turkey.
Yelena takes a half-step towards her.
“Actually,” she says, “I think the weather is bad here. Not a good time to fly.”
Kate nods.
“Lotta brutal snowstorms in January,” she agrees.
“Maybe I should stay for the rest of the month.” Another tiny step. The space between the counter and the island really isn’t very far. “Leave in February.”
“Y-you could do that,” Kate says, nonchalant. But her hands are sliding up the side of the island to grip the edge.
“I haven’t seen a baseball game yet. I should go to one before I leave America, don’t you think?”
A huffed, surprised laugh leaves Kate.
“Baseball doesn’t start ’til the spring.”
“Then I guess I have to stay until the spring.”
“Where would you stay?”
Yelena glances around the kitchen and back to Kate, smiling meaningfully.
“Well, yeah,” Kate says, “obviously, I would invite you to just stay here, but I don’t wanna ‘take the fun out of breaking and entering.’”
“Thank you.” Yelena glances down at her apron, then up. “And if I stay, I get to wear the apron.”
“Definitely. Every time you cook mac ’n’ cheese.”
“And every time I want you to kiss me and you are having trouble taking the hint.”
Kate’s mouth falls open, but no sound comes out.
“Come over here, Kate Bishop,” Yelena says, voice rough but soft.
Although there’s not a lot of here to come over, Kate pitches forward, cups Yelena’s face in both hands, and bows her head to kiss her. One of Yelena’s hands presses the middle of Kate’s back and the one that settles on her cheek smells like potatoes. The starchiness of the residue feels gross against her skin, but that doesn’t really matter. It’s a grossness to be excited about, like the cranberry sauce, except better.
Kate’s rocking further into Yelena, not wanting this to end now that it’s started, wanting to feel every angle as their heads tilt and their lips nudge and slip, but Yelena pulls back and the kiss ends with the loud, abrupt smack of their mouths separating. Kate blinks.
“Wait wait wait,” Yelena says, twisting and reaching for her back pocket. “Ha!”
She gets her braid off her neck and her bangs out of her eyes with one flick of her head. With a self-congratulatory grin, she presents Kate with a packet of dried meat. Kate squints at it.
“I got you reindeer jerky!” Yelena declares with impatient enthusiasm. “See what a great guest I am? I bring you dessert.”
Kate glances up, expression tight.
“This looks awful,” she says. “And I feel comfortable saying that because you’ve already confirmed it. You said it’s chewy, it’s, uh, tough—”
“Oh, it is the worst.”
Kate’s mouth pulls into an uncontrollable smile.
“I can’t wait. This is an amazing gift.”
“We’ll have it with a strong drink, maybe,” Yelena suggests as Kate tosses the packet onto the island behind her. “Because it is also unbelievably dry.”
“Absolutely. We can swirl our glasses like all my mom’s snotty business associates and gnaw on our jerky.”
“I’ll swirl as long as you don’t have an expensive carpet. I’m not good around expensive carpets. I swear, the liquid just jumps out of the glass.”
“Swirl gently. Little baby swirl.”
Kate motions in the air. Yelena grabs her swirling hand and holds it. With the other, she points to the phrase embroidered across the front of her apron.
“That is handy,” Kate acknowledges, smirking before initiating a second kiss. Just as Yelena’s hand is skimming up the back of her neck, she leans back. “Oh god,” she says, grimacing. “Did my mom and Jack do this?”
“Do not worry about it,” Yelena recommends. She gives Kate’s swaying ponytail a short, playful tug. “Only worry about making me perfect mashed potatoes.”
Kate laughs and rubs her scalp with exaggeration.
“Alright.”
“I’m serious. If they’re no good, I’m leaving.”
Cockily tipping her chin up, Kate smiles.
“Liar.”
#my writing#Hawkeye#Kate Bishop#Yelena Belova#Kate x Yelena#Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova#Hawkeye fic#MCU
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Warmth (Adrenaline Junkie Part 6)
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17
Spotify Playlist (collaborative)
Warnings: Self harm scars, mentions of panic attacks and hallucinations
Word count: 2,842
(A/N): This takes place about 6 months after the last chapter. Also, I was heavily inspired by Toothless’ prosthetic, I’m really excited to write more about it : )
You hummed to yourself as you walked down the cobblestone street of the village. The village was probably one of your favorite places to visit; it had quaint little shops and stalls decorating the main plaza that you adored, it was always interesting to see what’s being sold today. Though you always wore your cloak to cover your wings (well, wing and a now-feathered nub) whenever you visited to avoid the stares, you still regularly visited the main plaza for the shops.
The first time you visited after the incident was about a month ago with Wilbur, you two were looking for something to cook for dinner. You were trying to get used to having your wings out again, so you were wearing the jacket with the slits in the back that you always used to wear.
The feeling of people staring holes into you was a feeling you forgot about. You always got stares whenever you went into the village because of your wings, but now it felt like more and more people were staring at you as you passed them, probably because of your nub. Though some looked at you in pity, most looked at you with disgust.
You could hear children asking their mothers what happened to you. Their mothers would take one look at you and shield their children away from you staring at you with disgust. You even made one kid cry when he saw your wing; you didn’t blame him, you still couldn’t look at your nub without tearing up. An hour hasn’t even passed before you were asked by a police officer to leave because you were causing a disruption and being indecent in public.
Wilbur was pissed. “They’re fully clothed and they didn’t even talk to anybody, so how exactly were they being disruptive or indecent?”
The officer firmly held her ground, looking up to Wilbur’s tall form. “Sir, the people are complaining and it’s my job to make the public feel safe and comfortable. Look,” she sighed, “I really don’t want to have to ask them to leave, they’re not doing anything to directly threaten people. However, they are causing a disturbance with their,” she wrinkled her nose, “their thing, so I’m going to have to ask them to leave.”
“You have absolutely no right to tell them to leave. They-”
“Wilbur, it’s fine. I’ll leave,” turning back to the officer, you calmly stated “I’m sorry for causing a disturbance ma’am. It won’t happen again.”
She curtly nodded and stood watching you, probably making sure that you left the main plaza. Before you could turn to leave, Wilbur stopped you.
“(Y/n)-”
“No, Wilbur. It’s alright, I can wait outside the village for you.”
He sighed, looking through his leather satchel. “No, you won’t have to wait for me. We’ve got enough food for dinner anyways,” shooting one last heated glare at the police officer, he reached down to grab your hand. “Let’s go.”
He drug you quickly through the village with you having a little trouble keeping up with his long strides. Once you were out of the village, he slowed his pace and walked with his hands shoved in his pockets.
“(Y/n), I’m sor-”
“Don’t be Wil. It isn’t your fault. I honestly was expecting to get kicked out earlier.”
“Still, it’s not fair to you. You didn’t ask for this.”
“I know Wil, I’ll just wear my cloak next time I visit.”
He didn’t say anything to you after that. The rest of the walk home was shrouded in an awkward silence.
Another part of the village you loved was the library. It had tall shelves filled to the brim with all sorts of books and various cushioned furniture littered randomly amongst the maze of shelves. Whoever would walk into the library would immediately be hit by the strong scent of parchment and wood as soon as they would walk through the twin doors. You would usually browse books about redstone, but you had a different agenda today.
Today, you were looking for a book about leather working. You wanted to make a leather prosthetic wing so you could at least glide through the air. You weren’t sure if it would work though. From what you’ve read, nobody’s attempted to make a prosthetic wing. It made sense, being a hybrid was rare in and of itself, let alone a winged hybrid.
You missed flying more than anything. You would give anything to be able to be in the air again. You felt jittery and restless without flight. Sure, Philza took you on some flights with him every now and then, but it wasn’t the same. You yearned for the independence and liberation it gave you to fly alone.
After you found a book and checked it out with the librarian, you hastily set out for home. You were walking with a giddy smile on your face and a bounce in your step. Several people gave you strange looks as you passed them, but you were in too good of a mood to care. You finally figured out a way you could possibly fly again.
When you got home, you headed straight to your workshop to get to work on your prosthetic. Several blueprints were hung up around your desk, some for your TNT launcher (which you finished a few weeks ago) and others contained ideas for an automatic farm. Your pride and joy was hung up in the center of your bulletin board. It made you extremely happy just by looking at the prosthetic sketch.
Your redstone lamp illuminated the space in front of you as you focused on cutting a large strip of leather in front of you with great concentration. You needed to get the measurements exactly right, equal sized wings are integral for stability midair. The prosthetic was going to be about the same size as your left wing with thin iron rods giving the wing structure. You planned on making it identical to a bat’s wing with a few minor changes in shape to match your other wing. Once it actually was structurally sound and working, you would add proper joints so you could wear it around and decorate it. Until then, you’re making adjustments.
When you were done, you moved on to crafting and melding together the iron rods. Putting on your goggles and thick leather gloves, you used a bit of lava your family kept stored in another room in the basement to fuse the thin iron rods together. You carefully dipped one end of two rods into the bucket before pulling it out at a certain time to hold the molten ends together until they cooled. You repeated this process until you were melding the last piece on.
“HEY BITCH, DINNER’S READY. GET IT WHILE IT’S HOT!”
Yelping, you dropped the mold onto your desk. You picked it up in a panic without paying attention to where your arms went. Unknowingly, your sleeved arm was pressing up against the scorching iron of the bucket of lava.
“FUCK YOU YA FILTHY GREMLIN, A LITTLE WARNING WOULD’VE BEEN NICE!”
He started cackling. “FUCK YOU TOO! NOW GET UP HERE BEFORE I EAT YOUR DINNER.”
“YOU BETTER FUCKING NOT. I SWEAR TO- FUCK!”
You felt the nerves on the side of your forearm screaming as you yanked it away, leaving the crisp remains of a part of your sleeve stuck to the iron bucket. Two pairs of footsteps boomed down the steps and got louder as they rapidly approached you.
Wilbur’s deep voice worriedly called out to you. “Shit, (y/n) are you alright? Let me see.”
Before you could protest, he gently grabbed your wrist and pulled the sleeve of your jacket down. Adjoining the light burn, small horizontal scars and some fresh cuts lined your forearms. Shit, they were never supposed to find out.
Wilbur’s hand froze, gripping your wrist with an iron grip. You hissed at the feeling of some of your cuts reopening, causing him to quickly retract his hand. He now had his hands hovering over your arm unsure of what to do with them.
“(Y/n), wha-” Tommy cut himself off once he saw the panicked look on his older brother’s face. Following his gaze, his wide eyes met with your cuts.
You sighed, prying the goggles off from your face and pulling the gloves off from your hands. You put on a calm exterior, contrary to what you felt on the inside. They were never supposed to know. “Listen, you guys weren’t supposed to find out about this. None of you were. Please don’t tell Dad or Technoblade, I don’t need more people knowing.”
Tommy spoke up with an incredulous look. “(Y/n), what do you mean? We can’t just not tell them.”
“I know. Please, do it for me? Everything’s finally going back to normal and this will just make everything worse again. I promise I’ll stop, I swear.”
The two brothers looked at each other silently contemplating what they should do. On one hand, you were their sibling and you were hurting yourself. They needed to tell their dad that you were cutting. You only had two lives left and you could kill yourself doing that. Philza and Techno could help. On the other hand, they wanted you to feel normal in your own home. You were right in the fact that everything was starting to feel like it did before the incident. Plus, they would gladly help you through it.
They looked back at you with apprehensive expressions, speaking at the same time.
“(Y/n), we’re not gonna tell Dad or Techno.”
“We’re telling them.”
Tommy whipped his head up to look at his brother angrily. “Wilbur, we need to tell them.”
“Tommy, no-”
“Are you fucking stupid? Of course we have to-”
“Tommy. We don’t because I’ll be taking every sharp object away from them tonight. We’ll watch them and check their wrists to make sure that there’s no new cuts and they stay clean. We’ll help them.”
“But- they,” Tommy gave a frustrated sigh. “Fine. But we at least have to tell Techno about this. He can help us.”
Wilbur glanced at you with apologetic eyes. Before he could speak up, you interrupted him. “...Alright, as long as Dad doesn’t find out. He has enough to stress out about and he doesn’t need to worry about me again. Now, can we go upstairs for dinner? We’ve been down here for long enough already and Dad’s probably wondering why. Tell him that I’m gonna go clean up.”
Without giving them any room to argue, you speeded up the stairs and into your room. Closing the door and leaning your back on it, you let your calm facade drop into a panicked one. Shit, what if Tommy tells Dad? What were you supposed to do then? He’ll take away what little freedom you had left and you’ll be sinking into the depths of your depression again.
Your thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock and Philza’s voice. You held your breath as you prepared yourself for him to tell you that he knows your secret. “Hey hun, Wilbur and Tommy told me that you burned yourself,” you let out a relieved sigh. “Do you need me to look at it?”
Panic once again flared in your bloodstream. “N-no Dad, it’s just a little burn. I’ll be down in just a second I’m changing.”
“You sure? I can get you a potion.”
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“...Alright,” he sounded skeptical. “Just hurry up, dinner’s getting cold.”
The sound of his retreating footsteps sounded like music to your ears. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths before you moved to put on a long sleeved shirt.
Dinner was uncharacteristically quiet without Tommy, you, or Wilbur talking. Philza tried to carry the conversation with you four, but only Technoblade gave full responses. You, Tommy, and Wilbur only supplied a few words to a conversation when prompted.
Technoblade was suspicious. Sure, you and Wilbur were quiet sometimes, but Tommy? Tommy’s always loud and rambunctious. Something’s wrong, but what? What could’ve happened when Tommy and Wilbur went to go get you for dinner? They weren’t gone for long. He did hear you screaming profanities at Tommy for scaring you and overheard Tommy telling Philza about how you burned yourself, but how is that something that would shut you three up? He was going to confront his siblings after he finished tonight’s dishes.
Meanwhile, you, Tommy, and Wilbur were in your room. You were giving them your iron dagger.
“Is this all?”
“Yeah, Tommy. That’s all, search my room if you don’t believe me. I wouldn’t mind, I don’t have anything to hide from you anymore.”
They did just that. Looking under your bed, in your drawers, in your closet, and in the chest you kept for your supplies. You watched them propped up on your bed. While you were angry with yourself that you were so careless, you felt warm that they cared about you. They were great brothers.
After they were done turning your room upside down, Wilbur plopped down next to you and Tommy threw himself over your legs. You three laid there for a while just enjoying each other’s presence. It was nice to spend some time with your brothers, you didn’t get much free time to spend with them because you spent most of your time in your workshop.
The silence was broken by Tommy. “...So, how do you wanna go about telling Technoblade?”
“I’m… not exactly sure. Do we even have to tell him?”
Wilbur pursed his lips. “Even if you didn’t want to, I’m pretty sure he knows something’s up. He’s good at picking up on social cues.”
“Well if that’s the case, I might just wait until he comes to me. It’ll be easier.”
Your door swung open to reveal your piglin hybrid brother. He looked at you with a single eyebrow raised as his ear flicked. “What were you planning on telling me?”
Tommy and Wilbur looked at you expectantly. You shifted your body closer to the wall making room on your bed for him. He walked over and stiffly sat on the edge of your mattress. He gestured for you to talk to him. You slowly slid your sleeve down and showed him your arm. Besides his eyebrows slightly crinkling, he was as stoic as ever when he reached out to grab your wrist for a better look.
On the inside, the voices were almost as loud as when you died. They were nearly incoherent as several angry voices mixed together yelling at him for not noticing anything was wrong with you, the kid he vowed to protect when you first stole his crown and replaced it with a homemade paper one. Outside of the voices, he was furious at himself, he was supposed to protect you. He ran his fingers along the raised lines, gently tracing over every scar and scabbed over cut as if memorizing where every single one lays.
His monotone voice was gruff. “How long? Why?”
“About eight months now. I-I didn’t feel anything for a while after I respawned and I realized that pain helped me feel. It helped ground me when I hallucinated or had panic attacks.”
“...Do you feel anything now?”
“Yeah, I’m getting better Tech. I’m hallucinating less and I’m getting better at managing anxiety attacks. At this point, it's just a habit that I can’t drop.”
“Do you want to drop it?”
You fell silent. You never really considered stopping before. Before, you would do it to give yourself something to focus on when you were overwhelmed, but now you would do it out of habit. It somehow felt wrong when you skipped a session and it usually threw your entire day off. You would feel drained for the entire day if you didn’t do it. It was one of the only consistent things in your life.
“(Y/n), c’mon you don’t want to keep doing this, right?” Tommy asked before Wilbur reached over and slapped him upside his head.
“I think,” you breathed out, unsure of yourself, “I want to get better.”
Techno looked at his brothers. “Did you two take their blades?”
Tommy held up the iron dagger and wove it around haphazardly in the air. Techno reached over and pocketed the dagger before discarding his golden crown and placing it on your nightstand. He took off his weighted fluffy cloak and neatly draped it over a nearby chest. He maneuvered his body so that he was laying on your other side and wrapped a lazy arm over your chest.
With Wilbur on your right side with your wing draped over him, Tommy laying on your stomach with Wilbur reaching down to hold him, and Techno pulling you close to his body, you were pleasantly warm. You were slowly drifting off, being lulled to sleep by Techno’s slow heartbeat. You blissfully fell asleep surrounded by your brothers’ love.
Inspo for the cuddle pile (credit goes to og artist, zillychu): https://zillychu.home.blog/tag/heart-squad-cuddle-pile/
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#sbi x reader#platonic#philza x reader#technoblade x reader#wilbur soot x reader#tommyinnit x reader#sibling reader#platonic cuddle pile#platonic cuddling#hurt/comfort#mcyt x reader#mcyt#sbi#tw: scars#tw: hallucinations#tw: panic attack#tw: self harm
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late night calls
Summary: It all started with a phone call to the DEA office to tell Javier about the surgery of his father. You had insisted to take care of him after Chucho told you about the surgery. That you would fall in love with his son you had never met before? Just as surprising to you as it was to Javier.
Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Plus size reader
Wordcount: 4.1k+
Warnings: fluff, phone sex, mentions of bomb attacks, sexism, self doubt, yearning?
A/N: I know that probably more time passed between the bombing and Javier being send back to the states but I chose to ignore it. For the plot. Hope you enjoy it :)
Masterlist
*taglist in reblog
You still weren’t used to the heat. Yes, you did move to Texas because you wanted a fresh start. But the fucking heat would take some time to get used to. Nothing was holding you back in Maine. You had spent the last years taking care of your sick mother. She had died just before Christmas and with her all the family you had left.
So coming with the new year you took a leap of faith, packed your things, and moved to a little town close to the Mexican border. You got a job at the local police station as a secretary that made a decent sum of money each month. Life was good. At least you told yourself so.
You had made a couple of friends. Mostly the older generation of the town. You weren’t big on going out, nor had the town a big nightlife in the first place. That’s why you insisted on taking care of Chucho after he told you one day at the diner that he had to get a hip replacement. His wife had died a long time ago and his son wasn’t able to leave work.
“Don’t you have some better stuff to do cariño?” He had asked.
“What better way to start your day than on your Farm, Senior Peña.” You had winked at him.
Chucho might have been a stubborn old man, but once he got out of surgery and was in pain he was thankful that he accepted your help. That was also the first time you heard him talk about his son. Javier.
“Be a dear and call him to tell him I’m okay?” He had mumbled before he dozed off again. You had chuckled, kissed his cheek before you left him for the day to went over to his farm. Once you had taken care of everything for the day you sat down on his kitchen island and grabbed the phone, dialing the first number he had written down.
You had suggested moving into his place in his recovery time. It was a beautiful place. Mexico was just on the other side of the river down the property. But the best part about this place was the air conditioning. Okay… You really loved this place and it definitely was an upgrade to the small apartment you were renting in the city.
Waiting for his son to pick up the phone you wondered what kind of job he would have that he wasn’t able to take care of his father. You didn’t judge him, okay maybe a little, you were more curious. You had seen some pictures of him spread through the house. But you had never asked about him.
“DEA Office, how may I help you?” A woman answered your call.
“Uhm… Is Javier Peña available? It’s about his father,” you tried.
“Oh of course. Agent Peña just got in. Please hold.”
Agent Peña? DEA? You had so many questions but they died on your tongue when the call connected again.
“This is Peña.” A deep voice said. He reminded you of his father.
“Hello Mr. Peña. I’m only calling to let you know that your father’s surgery went fine. He wanted me to forward this to you.”
“Javier, please. Not even my father likes to be called Mr. Peña.”
“Oh I noticed that,” you chuckled.
“He’s fine yeah?” You heard something shuffle on the other end of the line.
“Yeah. Already made some jokes and told me to make sure I feed the horses in the right order.”
“You’re taking care of the horses?”
“Yeah. I’m temporarily moving in to help your father.”
“That’s very nice of you. He never told me about you.”
“There’s not much to tell.” You got up and took out a bottle of water from the fridge. “I’m only here for the air conditioning.” You joked. He laughed.
“Fuck I miss air conditioning. Hold on.” You sat down again, hearing only damp voices.
“Fuck. I need to go. Please call me if something comes up. Dad has my home number too, right?” He was speaking quickly and you wondered what was happening.
“Yes, he wrote it down for me. Everything okay?”
“Yeah hopefully. Just some work stuff. Keep in touch, yeah?”
“Will do Javier.”
Chucho got home a week later and he was the worst at listening to doctors’ orders. You still had to go into the station to work, but you spend your whole time worrying about him. It was funny to you how he seemingly had become a father figure to you in less than a couple of weeks.
Of course you found him standing at the kitchen counter when you got to the ranch, the phone tugged between his shoulder and his ear, making himself a sandwich.
“Shouldn’t you be resting?” You asked, crossing your arms in front of your chest.
“I was. Then Javi called and I got hungry.”
“Stubborn old man,” you grumbled and he rolled his eyes.
“Come on, I brought dinner.”
“Fine. Here. Javi wants to say Hello,” he handed you the phone before he slowly trotted towards the couch. Shaking your head you put the phone to your ear.
“You are really strict with him,” Javier said.
“Someone has to. Are all you Peña men this stubborn?”
He chuckled. “You have no idea. How is he doing?”
“Overall good. Not complaining as much as in the beginning but then again I am bribing him with my delicious cooking.”
Javier and you had spoken to each other at least two times per week since the first time you called to tell him about his father’s surgery. You learned that he was a DEA agent on the hunt for Pablo Escobar. You learned that he was feeling guilty about not being there for his father and to take care of the ranch. You learned lots of things about Javier Peña.
“Ah... Delicious cooking. Maybe one day you get to cook for me?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You teased, hearing him take a sip of his drink. Whiskey probably.
“Just that my father is praising your cooking so much I wonder if it really is that good.”
“Oh, it is, Peña.” You found yourself smiling. You heard him sigh.
“Everything’s okay over there?” You asked.
“Yeah,” he said too quickly. Definitely a lie. You nodded.
“You wanna stay on the phone while I prepare dinner?” you asked.
“Yeah,” he whispered.
The better Chucho got, the longer the phone calls between Javier and you seem to get. It was mostly at night after he got home from whatever he had been doing at work that day intending to check in on his father. But after a few sentences, he asked about your day. About how you felt. What your plans for the coming weekend were.
“You sound exhausted Hermosa,” he sighed. It had been a long day at work and all you wanted was to grab a pint of ice cream and drown your sorrows.
“Just the usual sexist bullshit at the PD,” you groaned.
“Want me to kill them?” Javier joked.
“You take care of your nemesis, I take care of mine. But I appreciate the help.” You sat down on your bed, knowing that this was usually the room he occupied when he was here to visit his father.
“Noted. But if it’s any help, I had a shit day too. They seem to get more frequent the longer I stay in this shithole.”
“Maybe you have to focus on the good things of being in this country. There have to be some. The food probably. I always enjoy new food. Maybe go to a museum? I don’t want to intrude but you don’t seem like you do anything besides work and well…”
It was pure accident that you had heard the voice of a woman one night when you had called him for a change. You knew that he looked good, you had seen the pictures, so it shouldn’t be a surprise to you, that he did have a girlfriend. He clarified that he didn’t, that this was just a woman he got intel from. You didn’t ask any more questions, it wasn’t your right. That it hurt to think of him and another woman was something you chose to ignore.
“I never thanked you,” Javier said. You let yourself fall back into bed, staring at the stars outside the window.
“What for?” you asked quietly.
“Thanking care of Dad and the ranch. Listening to my drunken ramblings. You’re a good friend,” he said. You smiled, a warm feeling spreading in your chest.
“You’re a good friend too, Javi.”
Chucho didn’t need anyone to take care of him. Not when he was back to his old health after a couple of months. But he had asked you to move in with him anyway. And you loved to live with the old man. Enjoying not being on your own all the time. And you loved helping him out at the ranch. The PD was still getting on your nerves and you were seriously considering just quitting.
“I hate it. I fucking hate it. I get one dumb line after another, just because I’m a woman. That I helped to get together the evidence to put that fucker away that killed all those women last year is not even of interest. FUCK!” you complained to Chucho. He knew about all of this already. Yet he jumped from his seat when he saw that you did cut yourself while making dinner.
“Careful.” He took your hand in his, leading you over to the sink to look at your wound. It didn’t hurt that much.
“What about if I take care of dinner today, and you go and take a bath? Javier is probably gonna call in a bit…” Chucho winked, putting a bandaid on your finger.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” you frowned.
“Just that I see the way you smile every time my son calls.”
“Two whole days off? What are you gonna do with yourself?” You joked. You were laying in the bathtub, the phone in your hand as you talked to Javier.
“Don’t know. I feel like I need a home-cooked meal so I’m gonna nag Connie to cook one.”
You chuckled, crossing your legs.
“Is that water I hear?” he asked and you blushed. Why? You didn’t know. You had undressed numerous times while on the phone with him, but being completely naked and him knowing about it…
“I’m in the bathtub. Chucho’s orders. He’s making dinner before I kill myself doing it.”
You were met with silence.
“You okay, Javi?” You sucked your bottom lip in. “I did only cut my finger,” you joked.
“Just trying to get the picture of you naked in the bathtub out of my head.”
“You don’t even know what I look like.”
“Doesn’t matter. All I need is to hear your voice and I’m hard…”
“Javi…” you whispered, feeling hot all of the sudden.
“Will you tell me?” he asked.
“Tell you what?”
“If you think about me? Because you are on my mind all the time. I keep picturing how you look. If you have long hair or short hair. What color your eyes have. If your smile is only half as beautiful as your laugh. Fuck… I just wanna see you. I wanna feel you. I wanna taste you Hermosa.”
Unintentionally your unoccupied hand had made its way down your body, your breath coming in short pants.
“Keep talking Javier…” you whispered, your hand slipping in between your legs.
“I want to touch you. Fuck I bet your skin is so soft. I’d worship you. I stay up at night wondering if I could fit your boobs in my hands. What sound you would make when I close my mouth around your nipple…”
“Shit Javi…” You moaned.
“I wonder how you taste. Are you wet for me baby?” he asked and you heard a zipper being undone on his end of the line.
“So wet. You always make me wet. I touch myself when we get off the phone, wondering how it would feel to have you here…” you whimpered.
“I would have fucked you on every flat surface in the house if I was there. The thought of you sleeping in my bed is making me lose my mind.”
You circled your clit with your fingers, a low moan coming from your lips.
“I wonder how you feel wrapped around my cock. I wonder how you sound when I make you cum. I want to hear it so badly…” You were sure he was fucking his hand and you whimpered at the thought.
“I wish it was my hand wrapped around your big cock right now. God, I wish it was your hand between my legs and not mine…” You bit your lips, keeping yourself quiet.
“Put two fingers into that cunt and make yourself cum. I wanna hear you…” he groaned on the phone.
“Fuck Javi…” you cried quietly, two fingers inside your cunt. “I wish it was your cock and not my fingers.”
“Me too… Me too babe.” he moaned. “Circle that clit for me. Cum for me.”
Circling your clit you almost let the phone fall into the tub when you came with a low moan. You heard him cry out your name on the other end of the line before all that was heard was both of your heavy breathing.
“Javi…?” you asked after a while, still high from one of the best orgasms you ever had. You heard the familiar sound of him lighting a cigarette.
“I meant every single word Hermosa. I want you.” You never thought you would hear these words from him or any man for that matter. You weren’t a typical beauty. You weren’t skinny, you loved food and your curves showed it. On most days you were happy with the way you looked. But you also knew how Javier looked. He was an attractive man and you knew he did indeed have a new woman every other night if he felt like it. He might be interested now, but once he would meet you, there was no way he would make true to all the things he said.
“You’re quiet.” he noticed.
“Yeah. Just coming down from the best orgasm I’ve had in a while,” you joked and he sighed.
“I might not see you, but I know that you’re lying.”
“Okay, it was the best orgasm I ever had.”
“Hermosa…”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Just let me enjoy the illusion of a handsome DEA Agent being interested in little ol’ me.”
“I’ll make sure you believe that it isn’t an illusion until we do see each other.”
Months went by and by now you were pretty sure you were in love with Javier Peña. The phone bill was taking dimensions you were almost guilty about, but Chucho only smiled not taking your money, telling you to make his boy happy. Safe to say he approved.
You had told him about your insecurities and Javier made sure to tell you every time you talked to each other that it didn’t matter how you looked. He told you that you could be green and he’d still go down on you the first time he would meet you.
And you wanted to believe him, you really did. You had told him how you looked after he tried to talk you into sending pictures of yourself “with or without clothes, I don’t care. Though you can guess what I prefer.” he had teased. Javier never made a secret about how much he liked you. Enjoyed talking to you. He told you he had stopped sleeping around for god’s sake.
He was supposed to visit his father in a couple of weeks and the more time passed, the more nervous you became. You didn’t doubt that he meant every single word he said to you. It was years of being on the receiving end of jokes and being the ugly friend that automatically let you feel like you weren’t good enough.
The worst part was that you knew, deep down, that you were beautiful. You loved how you looked. But there still was this voice inside your head, telling you that you would never be good enough for anyone. That there was no way someone would ever fall in love with you.
It was a typical morning at work. You had your coffee and all the files you had to update. Javier had talked to you until you fell asleep, telling you that he felt like he was failing in taking Escobar down. He didn’t tell you much, not wanting you to worry or to risk someone listening, but you could tell that he was exhausted. “I fucked up, Hermosa. I really fucked up and I have no idea how to fix this,” were the words that he had whispered to you in the middle of the night.
You didn’t ask what he meant, just telling him that you’d be there for him, no matter what.
Typing as usual you stopped as the song on the radio was, interrupted by a news report of a bombing in Bogota, Colombia. You knew that there were bombings all the time over there, and Javier always assured you that he was perfectly fine. But with how he was last night, you had a bad feeling.
“Fuck. When are they going to stop that shit over there? If I was there I’d caught Escobar years ago,” one of the officers said. You closed your eyes, breathing in deeply.
“Isn’t Chucho’s son over there pretty face?” The officer stopped in front of your desk and you opened your eyes.
“Yeah he is,” you said.
“Maybe if he would know how to do his job, shit like that wouldn’t go down like that,” he grinned and you wanted to stop, but your hand was faster. Slapping his cheek you got off your seat.
“And maybe if you would know how to use your dick your wife wouldn’t fuck your colleague over there, but you’ll never know, right?” You grinned, picking your purse and walking out.
“I’m taking today off.” You yelled over your shoulder as you walked to your car.
Javier didn’t pick up the phone. Which wasn’t what concerned you on the first day. He would have to deal with the shit that had happened over there. But when three days passed and you could see Chucho getting nervous as well you became restless. The ranch had never been so spotless. The horses had been fed in record time, and you took long rides along the river. If something had happened to him someone would have called, right? You couldn’t even reach his partner Murphy who you had talked to occasionally when Javier wasn’t at his desk.
When a week passed and you hadn’t heard anything you were close to making your way to the airport to just fly down there. What if he died? What if he was gone and you hadn’t told him that you loved him? That you fell in love with a man you had never met before? Getting off the horse you sat down at the tree closest to the river. It was quiet here. This was the outer area of Chucho’s ranch, your favorite spot. You had joked about building a house here once when you were out with the old man and he had agreed that it would be the perfect spot. Sighing you drank from the bottle of water you brought.
Where the fuck are you Javier?
Another week went by without any sign of life from him. You had called the DEA office again but no one seemed to be able to give you an answer. You were growing restless. Working seemed to be the only thing that could get you off the spiraling thoughts of what if? You really had it bad for the man. Shaking your head to yourself you sighed as you parked your car on the usual spot in front of the ranch. Chucho’s truck was gone, he had a doctor's appointment to check on his hip and would meet his lady friend for dinner afterward. You had met her, Estella, once. She was a beautiful woman and Chucho seemed very happy with her. With a sad smile you killed the engine, getting out of the car. On your way to the house you groaned, turning around because you forgot your take out. You weren’t in the mood to cook and the pizza from that place that Javier had told you about was the best you had ever had. While you opened the passenger door of your car you heard the front door of the house open.
Shit. Burglars? You didn’t have anything on you, you could use as a gun. You knew you could probably make it to the horse stable to find something, but not in these fucking heels. Why did you wear these fucking heels? Maybe you could make them choke on the pizza? But then again you were looking forward to eating it.
“Just take what you want, I won’t look.” You called over your shoulder, hoping to just be spared for the day. Closing your eyes you sighed when you were met with no reaction. You heard footsteps on the porch that stopped.
“Look, I’m really not in the mood for this bullshit today. So either take whatever the fuck you want or kill me….” you turned around and all the words died on your lips.
Standing there, leaning against the porch was no other than Javier fucking Peña. Alive. And looking even better than on the various pictures hanging in the house. He was bare feet, wearing tight jeans and a green shirt that was half undone. Opening your mouth to talk, all that came out was a gasp. He looked at you, his eyes mirroring the million emotions inside of you. Looking down at yourself you felt shy all of the sudden. This isn’t how you imagined meeting him for the first time. You wanted to be pretty. To wear some spanx. To have some make-up on. Closing your eyes you breathed in deep. You were happy to see him, you really were. But the ride of emotions you had gone through in the last couple of days took hold of you. Walking quickly towards him, you pushed against his chest, the air leaving his lungs in a puff.
“You fucking idiot. I thought you died.” You pushed him again.
“Do you have any idea how awful I felt since I heard the news of the bombing? You…” You pushed against his chest again, but this time he was faster, grabbing your wrists as he looked down at you. You felt the tears in your eyes as you finally looked up at him. Almost a year of phone calls and now he was standing here in front of you. Alive and warm. And smelling so fucking good.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, holding both of your wrists against his chest as he looked at you.
“I should have called but I told you I fucked up. Badly. And I had to fix it and…” he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now. I’m here and fuck… you’re even more beautiful than I pictured you,” he smiled a little.
“Flattery will get you nowhere.” You huffed, still annoyed.
“No?” he asked teasingly, smirking at you as he leaned down. You shook your head, biting your lip. God, you wanted to kiss him.
“Can I at least try?” he asked, his lips brushing over your temple. You swallowed, shivering when you felt his cheek against yours. Fuck. Why did he smell so good?
“You may try, but I’m really, really mad at you Javier.”
You closed your eyes when he released your wrists and put one of his hands on your back to push you closer against him. He kissed your cheek before he straightened to his full height and looked down at you, his other hand coming to rest on your cheek.
“You’re really sexy when you’re angry,” he teased before he leaned down to kiss you. You melted against him, your hands running up his chest, holding on to the back of his neck as one hand ran through his hair, to pull him down. Kissing him didn’t come close to anything you could have imagined, his tongue parting your lips and you couldn’t help the moan against his lips.
“Still angry?” he whispered out of breath against your lips.
“Slightly less angry,” you whispered back before you found yourself in his arms as he carried you into the house.
#my writing#Javier Peña#Javier Pena x reader#Javier Pena x you#pedro pascal#javier pena x plus size reader#fanfic#fanfiction
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