#LET HER DO THE CROSSWORDS!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inkdrinkerworld · 11 days

Note

Hiii i just saw your post prision Spencer post with sunshine reader and im soooo in love with it (and in love with him too tbh) could you please do a pt2? Have a nice day💕

spencer and sunshine!reader have set routines on office days and spencer likes flirting pt 1 of their story 🤭

“Spencer Reid, prepare to have your mind blown!” You announce as you walk into the bullpen, your Mary Janes clacking against the tiles. You’re in a skirt today, Spencer supposes it’s because it’s a designated office day- there’s only three a month, but every time there is one, you come in an outfit Spencer would never even dream of.

Today you’re channelling your inner Elle Woods. He knows about her from Resse Witherspoon, but also from your innate love of the film and the fact that you forced him to watch it on the jet once.

You’re wearing a pretty black skirt, a grey top and a baby pink blazer that matches the pink socks you’re wearing and your eyeshadow that he just about makes out behind your glasses.

“With what?” He’s on his way back from the kitchen, your prized orca mug in one hand and his mug in the other.

This is your new routine; you and Spencer have coffee in the morning while you both work through your crosswords and then get started on filing away reports for the many serial killers you’ve either interviewed with Tara or put away with the team. It’s fun, and it’s always something to look forward to, especially on designated office days.

These specific mornings, you have time for a game you’ve fondly named, ‘Making Spencer Try International Desserts.’

Spencer can smell your perfume, you smell like you always do- orange blossom, coffee and lavender. It’s intoxicating, the way the scent just floats into him with every move you make.

“The season calls for it, so I got pavlova. It’s a New Zealand dessert and I got it with raspberries, strawberries and a passion fruit syrup situation to go on top.”

Spencer knows the informational side to everything in the world but he’s never tried some of it out, as you’d learnt on a night out for drinks, so you’d started the game as a way to help him get real world knowledge of fun things- the operative word being up for debate but he hadn’t objected yet.

He clears his desk, making space for the two little boxes you have in your hand. “They’re a little sweet for breakfast, but you only live once.” You open up the boxes and Spencer is shocked to see the mini pavlovas and the fruit sitting beside it in a clear container.

“Do you like these?” He asks, handing over your coffee to you and pulling his box towards him.

“I do, but they’re more of a picnic food to share in my opinion. Like you need to be having a bar-b-que or a garden party to have the full effect of these.” Spencer isn’t surprised by your enthusiasm for the dessert- your little stories about every one you’ve shared with him is enthusiastic for how and when to eat them.

You sneak into the kitchen and return with two spoons. “Okay, try to get a bit of everything on your spoon.”

Spencer does as you say, a bit of the berries, the passion fruit and the shell of the pavlova on his spoon as he takes his first bite. You sit in anticipation, watching him chew and swallow like it’s the most fascinating thing a person could do.

You try not to focus on the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows or the way his tongue pokes out to lick away some of the meringue at the corner of his mouth. Spencer catches the way your eyes widen at the action and suppresses a smile.

“What do you think?” You busy yourself with setting up your own perfect bite, willing your body not to give away any of your fluster at being caught looking at him.

“It was really nice, I like the different textures.” Spencer compliments, watching you take your own bite and letting himself smile when some of the passion fruit syrup and meringue stain your bottom lip.

Without really thinking, his thumb comes to your face, wiping away the stain easily. Your breath hitches and Spencer feels it, his smile widening even more. There’s a moment where you both just stare at each other, your breathing filling the silence- you’re fighting the urge to lean in and kiss Spencer and he’s fighting the urge to lick his thumb.

“You only pretend to be this coy man, don’t you Doctor Reid?” you ask finally, leaning back in the chair you’re in and crossing your legs. Spencer’s sure his brain short circuits for a moment, your thighs have been a source of his torture for months now, especially when you wear skirts and dresses.

“You know you only call me ‘Doctor Reid’ when you’re flustered?” he tries changing the subject, leaning forward a bit to get a little closer to you.

“You have a knack for topic evasion, Spencer.” he laughs, a soft, sweet sound and he shakes his head.

“I have a knack for you,” you can feel your heart pounding in your ears, more so when Spencer’s fingers wrap around the arm of your chair and pull you closer to his desk. “Where’s your crossword?”

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

Text

There’s perks to working a summer job where there’s seemingly no manager. Steve got an at most five minute interview with an overly smiley dude who said, “An independent workforce is very important to us,” and didn’t even check his references before telling Steve that he was hired.

So it’s down to him and Robin alone to open and close Scoops Ahoy. And the lack of any boss—not even a supervisor—is mostly great, means that no-one’s hovering over their shoulders droning on about ‘company policy’, means they can take their breaks as and when, and no-one’s tapping their foot with an eye on the clock.

But then there’s the times where it’s absolutely swamped with customers, and the statistical likelihood of having to serve an asshole skyrockets; and most assholes don’t tend to think of teenagers slinging ice-cream as being worthy of even the tiniest shred of respect.

“Are you wilfully this stupid, missy?” a douchebag snaps at Robin during the lunchtime rush, after she added chocolate sauce on his sundae instead of raspberry.

She remakes the order with a look that, if there was any justice in the world, would make him drop down dead on the spot. But instead, he just scoffs when she passes him the new sundae.

“Have a spectacular day,” Robin says acerbically, and if it was any other time, Steve would be ducking down behind the counter, pretending to check on stock levels so he can hide his laughter.

Except Robin’s also doing that thing where she blinks a lot, and Steve knows she’s fighting tears of frustration because he privately does something remarkably similar.

There’s a sinking feeling in his chest coupled with what’s becoming a steadily frequent flare of protectiveness. That one usually comes with the kids and The Upside Down—except Robin is a girl who’s round about his age, so he half-heartedly assumes it must be because he has a crush on her.

But he’s not even thinking about said crush at all when he gently bumps her towards the break room with his hip and says, “Take yours first, I’ve got this.”

For half a second, Robin’s eyes seem to shine in gratitude before she puts a hand over her heart and declares, dripping in sarcasm, “You’re a god among men, Harrington, I never believed what anyone said about you.”

“You’re wel—hey, what did they say about me?”

The door to the break room shuts, but not before he hears Robin let out a genuine snort of laughter. He smiles and pivots back to the register.

The line’s calmed down; Steve recognises a substitute teacher waiting to be served: Mrs Greeves, who’s been at Hawkins High since the sixties, at least. There’s no other adult in the shop, so it’s presumably her little granddaughter who’s running about the place, without so much as a glancing eye on her.

But Steve doesn’t have to worry about a potential lost child scenario, because a guy suddenly slips out of the booth he’d been sitting in, bending down to the kid’s eye level and subtly ensuring that she doesn’t hightail it out of there.

It takes a few seconds for Steve to recognise him; he’s still getting used to the whole phenomenon of seeing people without the high school setting behind them. Like, Robin used to be just a name from a class he can’t even recall, and now he knows her for her dry wit and love of cryptic crosswords.

And this Eddie Munson is sort of a different beast from the guy Steve saw stomping around the cafeteria tables.

He’s dressed pretty much the same, (Hellfire shirt sans the leather jacket must be the ‘summer look’, Steve reckons), but he’s quieter as he chats with the little girl, letting her try on one of his skull rings to distract from her obvious boredom. His grin is softer, too.

Mrs Greeves clears her throat, and Steve promptly puts on his vacant ‘delightful customer service’ smile.

“Afternoon, Mrs Greeves, what can I do you for?”

She orders a simple strawberry cone for the kid, Abigail, and two scoops of lemon and vanilla in a cup for herself—appropriate, Steve thinks, because her face looks like she’s sucking on a lemon half the time.

As he prepares the ice-cream, he’s quickly remembering why she’s on the list of substitute teachers that students dread, even if he’s only had the ‘pleasure’ of being in a class supervised by her once. He has vague memories of how she’d talk with other teachers in a scandalised stage whisper about students from ‘broken homes’—he’s pretty sure she’s still an austere teacher at the Sunday School, too.

“Abigail,” she says sharply, when Steve finishes the cone, and she finally seems to realise her granddaughter isn’t by her side, “what have I told you about—”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Eddie says hurriedly. Abigail hands him the ring back, very carefully dropping it into his palm, and he gives her a gentle smile. “I don’t mind—”

“—not talking to strangers?” Mrs Greeves finishes, as if Eddie hadn’t spoken.

“But,” Eddie says with tiny frown, “you know me, ma’am, I’m—”

“Let me be plain then, Mr Munson.” She finally turns to favour Eddie with a scathing look. “I meant that I don’t want my granddaughter around a corrupting influence.”

There’s an awful silence while Abigail collects the cone.

“Oh,” Eddie says, still crouched down by the booth. He sounds very small.

And Steve’s view of Mrs Greeves quickly turns from a general dislike to an icy hatred.

“And here’s yours,” he says, sliding the cup over.

She looks down. Her mouth goes all pinched in displeasure.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

“It’s your ice-cream,” Steve says, playing up a confused blink. “Is—is this not what you ordered? I’m terribly sorry for the—”

“Don’t be obtuse, Mr Harrington. These scoops are tiny; they barely fill the cup!”

Yup, Steve thinks with a savage satisfaction. They’re the size of a melon ball, and even that’s being generous.

“Mrs Greeves, I’m afraid it’s store policy. Nothing to do with—”

“What kind of policy could possibly justify—”

“Rudeness,” Steve says smoothly.

Eddie’s head jerks up at that, his mouth slightly agape.

“Mr Harrington,” Mrs Greeves says, her face turning puce, “I would like to see your manager.”

“The manager,” Steve says flatly. “Okay, sure. I’ll go get him.”

What he does next, compared to everything else that’s happened in his life thus far, isn’t all that stupid.

Well. Maybe a little.

It’s worth it though, to see the way Eddie Munson’s eyes widen at the sight.

Making sure to have zero expression throughout, Steve mimes walking downstairs, throws off his hat while crouched behind the counter, then re-emerges with a quick ruffle of his hair.

“How can I help you?” he asks, like they’ve only just met.

The cup of minuscule ice-cream is soon up-ended as Mrs Greeves storms out, barking over her shoulder, “Abigail, come here!”

Eddie stands to let the kid out of the way, who seems blissfully ignorant with her cone. Steve’s sure he hears him mutter under his breath, “Jesus, she’s not a dog.”

“I’ll be reporting you, Steve Harrington, make no mistake!”

Yeah, good fucking luck. I sure as hell don’t know who really runs this place.

“Uh-huh,” Steve says. “Looking forward to it. Harrington with two ‘r’s one ‘n’, ma’am.”

“Shit, Harrington,” Eddie drawls. He’s leaning next to the booth, hip cocked, and if it weren’t for the fact that he’d seen it himself, Steve might’ve been convinced that the Eddie from a moment ago was a different person. “That was not worth getting fired over.”

“I’m not getting fired,” Steve says—although honestly, if that had been a real threat, he thinks his actions would probably have been the same. Huh. “I meant it, dude, there’s no manager here.”

Eddie nods slightly, looks up at the Scoops Ahoy sign and grins. “So you and Buckley are the skeleton crew on this ship.”

“Uh, I guess?”

Come on, man, Steve thinks, as Eddie keeps up the wide grin like it’s a shield. This isn’t the high school cafeteria; I’m not about to hit your lunch tray or whatever.

Out loud, he calls into the back, “Hey, Robin, the chocolate’s low. I’m just gonna put in a new batch if you want some of the old stuff.”

The sliding doors open.

Robin sighs as if she’s just had a very relaxing facial, but she’s actually holding a folded newspaper with the cryptic crossword all finished.

“I am so chilled out,” she says, with a delivery that could rival Eddie Munson’s trademark dramatics.

“You’re so weird,” Steve says mildly while making up a cup with the leftover chocolate ice-cream.

“You’ve just got no taste, Harrington.” She waggles the crossword at him. “You should give ‘em a try.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “I’m no good at that code-breaking stuff.” He passes her the cup, goes to start assembling his own and pauses. “Hey, Munson, you want some?”

“Oh, uh, I’m good,” Eddie says, sounding suddenly wrong-footed. “Sorry, I’m just, uh, killing time before my movie starts. The other stores said if I wasn’t buying anything I should get out, so…”

“So you’ve come to our oceanic sanctum,” Robin deadpans.

Steve rolls his eyes. “You know, just ‘cause you do crosswords doesn’t mean you have to turn into a dictionary. Ow.” He doesn’t quite duck in time to avoid the newspaper smacking him in the face. He turns to address Eddie again, who appears to be fighting back laughter. “What’re you gonna see, Munson?”

Eddie’s eyes glance away for a second. “Something very scary and befitting of my stature, Harrington.”

Robin, who’s made a habit of memorising the mall’s movie schedules, checks her watch and narrows her eyes. “Return to Oz?”

Eddie’s cheeks start to glow. “Fuck off, Buckley, I’ve never liked you.”

“You’re such a liar, I’ve heard your applause at band practice—”

“Okay, but,” Steve cuts in, jumping up onto the counter with one hand. “I thought the whole point was Oz was a dream. How can she return to—?”

“Christ, I don’t know, Harrington,” Eddie says. “I didn’t pick it for critical analysis; the poster had a dude with a pumpkin head on it, and I thought it looked cool.”

“Oh, I saw that,” Robin says. “Made me think of when all those pumpkins went bad. Like, imagine if they had faces.”

Unthinkingly, Steve says around his ice-cream spoon, “No way, I’m not dealing with that, too.”

“Excusez-moi?” Robin says.

“Hmm?” Steve says innocently.

“Hey, you missed quite a show earlier on, Buckley,” Eddie says. “Reckon Harrington deserves a tally in the ‘you rule’ column.”

Steve glares at Robin. “I told you to keep that outta view of the customers.”

“Ah, but I’m not buying anything,” Eddie points out, “ergo, not a customer.”

“Ergo,” Steve mimics.

“That board is strictly for romantic successes,” Robin says.

Eddie snorts. “Aw, that’s hardly fair. I think it should have more… rounded criteria.”

Robin’s eyes narrow again. “Eddie Munson, you’ve never complimented a jock in your life, don’t start now.”

“Hey,” Steve says, overselling a ‘wounded’ expression. “I’m more than that, y’know. I contain multitudes.”

“Sure,” Eddie says, smiling. “Folks, we’ve got Hawkins’s own Whitman right here.”

Steve flips him off and, on a whim, decides to channel his inner Dustin.

“Maybe I just see the world more clearly than you two ‘cause I’m free of societal constraints.”

“You’re working in a mall,” Robin says.

“High school societal contraints. I am unshackled and ergo, free.”

“Damn,” Eddie says, patting down his pockets for an imaginary pen, “I should use that.”

“Stop inflating Harrington’s ego and go catch your totally scary movie,” Robin says.

Eddie checks his own watch. “Oh, shit. Um.” And Steve thinks that it almost looks like he’s reluctant to leave. “Time flies, I guess. Better go ashore.” He catches Steve’s eye, gives a tiny little salute as he leaves. “May your summer continue to be mundane and manager-less.”

“You’re a poet, Munson,” Steve says, even though Eddie’s already out the door.

“So what was the show I missed?” Robin says. “I couldn’t hear anything back there.”

“Nothing that exciting.”

Steve tells her, and even though a smile tugs at her mouth as he re-enacts his mime, for some reason her eyes are kinda sad for most of it.

“Good job, Popeye,” she says thoughtfully—and though it directly contradicts her own words, she marks up a singular ‘you rule’ tally for the rest of her shift before wiping it off.

Eddie doesn’t re-appear after the movie—not that Steve’s keeping track of time, or anything—but at least they don’t have anymore nightmares for customers. As Steve mops, he thinks about how Dustin’s return from Camp Something Something is approaching—and the fact that he’s circled the date with a goofy smiley face is between him and his bedroom calendar.

He smiles to himself while clocking out of the now ghostly mall, recalling Eddie’s parting words.

The thought of a mundane, manager-less summer stretching before him sounds pretty damn good.

#i think this is my first scoops fic! had fun putting in some silly foreshadowing ❤️#steve and robin #pre steddie #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #eddie and robin #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #briefly implied homophobia

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redroomreflections · 25 days

Text

Silver Lining

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Natasha dies, Wanda helps reader with raising her baby. They didn't know they would fall in love

W/c: 4.2k

Ellie needs diapers.

It’s a simple text. A message you’re used to these days. It’s straightforward and to the point. Ellie needs diapers. Though there’s no other meaning behind the simple sentence it's a bit unsettling. You stare at the message watching as the text bubble for typing appears. You wait with a finger over your cursor for the sender to say something else. Just as quick as it appeared it leaves your screen.

Are you okay?

You want to send it back. You quickly delete the message and tuck the phone into your pocket. Guess you’ll be going to get diapers. You start the engine of your car, glancing to the bar in front of you, before pulling out of the parking lot. Wanda’s been weird lately. Distant.Cold. a little testy. You have a bit of an inkling of what it could be but your mind won’t let you go there. You’ve just come from a pretty awesome late-night dinner with your coworker, Danny. It’s the second time she’s asked you out and you accepted. It’s about time you hang out with someone other than Ellie these days. Not that Wanda isn’t a good company but You’d be an idiot to say no. Danny is kind, sweet, smart, and so damn sexy. She’s tall, runway model tall, with legs that never seemed to end. Most of all she listened. She’s the only one in the office that understands a bit of what you’ve been through so you go to her for things. It was only a matter of time for your relationship to progress. Right?

You can’t help the deep-seated guilt at leaving Wanda in the dark. She takes care of Ellie as if she’s her own. She helps whenever you need it and despite her own grief and pain, she’s always there for you. This is why you are unsure of her recent behavior. It must be something you did. Maybe she’s not comfortable with you leaving her with Ellie to go on dates? If so you’d be happy to find a babysitter to relieve her. Was she upset that you forgot to put the laundry in the dryer? Did you forget her birthday? No, that can’t be it. Wanda was so gracious and plentiful with her forgiveness. Which is why you are so confused.

The only thing open right now is the 24 hour CVS. Simple enough. You step into the store with a purpose. You find the baby aisle with ease. You’ve been here plenty of times before. The Honest Company brand is the first you spot. You’re not too keen on being loyal to a specific brand but Wanda always insists that it’s really good. You grab a pack of diapers in Ellie’s size and tuck it under your arms. You pull out your phone again to check if Wanda has messaged about anything else. You’re the only one in the store beside the cashier so you’re not in much of a rush. You step around to the second aisle where there are trashy magazines and other assortments of books on display. You grab a crossword puzzle book for you and Wanda to finish together. Maybe then she’ll tell you what’s been on her mind. You make your way to the front where you spot her favorite candy. You’re not intentionally trying to make her feel better, you technically haven’t done anything wrong, and yet you can’t help but feel that you need to make things right with her. You grab the turtle's candy from the shelf and hand it to the cashier. She bags with boredom ready to clock out of work herself. You give her thanks before taking the items and leaving the store.

It doesn’t take long for you to get home. You sit in the driveway with the lights off for a minute. You’re looking up at the house. It’s beautiful. Two-story, brick, a white picket fence. It’s everything you’ve wanted in a home. Everything Natasha wanted. It’s been a little over a year since she’s died. A little longer than that since you’ve seen her face. Ellie never got to meet her. You were eight months pregnant when Natasha and the rest of the team decided to do the mission to reverse what Thanos messed up. Your wife, a natural leader and a true hero sacrificed her own life for the greater good. Natasha was always good. Which is why you resent her so much. In her haste to save the rest of the world she left you with a baby who would never know her name, never know her smile, and never feel her arms around them.

A life you planned together was over before you could start it. You’re here with the house that you chose together and sometimes you can’t make yourself go in. It hurts to see Ellie smile and laugh knowing Natasha would never get to see that. It’s a silhouette in the front window that breaks you from your thoughts. Wanda seems to be cleaning. She hasn’t closed the curtains which you have to remind her to do often. She moved in after you had given birth to Ellie. She was no longer Avenging. She wanted something else for herself. Wanda is your rock and you’re incredibly thankful for everything she does for you and Ellie. Suddenly, as if she senses you’re home, she turns to the window to peer out. She finds you easily and gives you a small wave. You wave back.

You unbuckle your seat belt and grab your items from CVS along with your briefcase. You take slow steps up the walkway. Wanda’s planted new flowers in the garden. They’re beautiful. She opens the front door for you and takes your briefcase just as she does every day.

You plant a kiss on her cheek in hello before stepping over to allow her to close the door. Briefly you think about how domestic the greeting is. She’s your best friend. It’s always been like this.

“Hey,” Wanda greets. She rubs her arms to warm herself. It’s the middle of August. It’s not too warm but Wanda always seems to be freezing. “How was work?”

“Work was work,” You shrug. Wanda lowers her hands to take the diapers. She places them on the front steps. “I need a long vacation. What do you say about taking Ellie to Montana or something?”

“Montana?” Wanda questions. She raises a brow.

“I know there’s nothing there but that’s the point.” You say. You follow her into the kitchen. Wanda rolls up her sleeves to get started on cleaning Ellie’s dishes. She’s sleeping by now with it being way past her bedtime. The eleven-month-old is full of energy. You find yourself missing her whenever you’re away. “How was she today?”

“She was great. She has another tooth coming in so she was a bit fussy before bedtime but a bath and a song fixed all of that.” Wanda scrubs a bottle with care and precision.

“How were you today?”

She pauses to look up at you. “I’m fine.” She drops her head back to the dishes.

“Her first birthday is soon,” Wanda begins another conversation.

“Yes, I can’t believe it,” You smile. “I think we should have a small party. Nothing too flashy. Danny thinks we should do a princess theme. I’ll probably ask her to plan it since she’s good with those things.” There it is. Wanda’s frown appears and she doesn’t try to hide it this time. “Is that not a good idea?” You lean against the counter to wait for her answer.

“No, no, it’s a great idea.” Wanda shakes her head. “I was just thinking that we would plan that together. Danny doesn’t know Ellie. I mean she’s never met her and you’re not dating.” Oh. There it is. She’s upset about you spending time with Danny.

“We can plan it together.” You placate her. “I didn’t think you would want to considering you’re already so generous with your time.”

“Are you kidding? I’d love to.” Wanda sets the last cup aside. “Ellie has been the highlight of my life for a while now. I can’t believe you’d think I wouldn’t want to help with such a milestone.”

“Okay then, we can plan it next week.” Wanda nods.

“I brought these.” You hold up the bag with the crossword puzzle and candy. Wanda eyes it before rolling her eyes.

“I’m going to have cavities because of you.” There’s no real malice in her tone. You grin before shaking the bag.

“Go change and I’ll make us tea.” Wanda takes the bag before waving you off. You plant another kiss on her cheek before running up the stairs to your bedroom. You make a pit stop at Ellie’s bedroom. Her door is cracked and the light from her night light castes the room in a light blue glow. You push it open gently. You tiptoe over to the bed where you take a second to look at her. She’s on her stomach with her hand resting near her face. Her favorite plushie, Boris the monkey, is inches away. You’re sure she fell asleep with it in her arms.

Sometimes you wonder how life with Natasha would be. How different would it be raising Ellie together? If you let yourself think too long you’ll become depressed. Natasha was the love of your life and you’d probably never be over her death. Does one ever get over that? Looking at Ellie, you’re constantly reminded of how much is being missed. You reach down to brush a hand over her head. You lean to press a kiss to her head. She twitches in her sleep before settling again.

You leave the room, closing the door behind you, before making your way to your bedroom. Deciding that a quick shower would feel amazing you step into the bathroom with that purpose. You don’t even bat an eye at Wanda’s towel resting beside yours. You take your time in the shower, allowing all of your stressors to melt away, before stepping out feeling refreshed. Wanda would be ready with the tea by now. You quickly dress and make your way downstairs to meet her in the living room. She’s already tucked under a throw blanket and she’s added a cardigan to her outfit.

“It’s amazing how you’re always so cold,” You say before joining her under the blanket. She adjusts it so that it’s covering both of your legs.

“If you kept the house at a reasonable temperature maybe I wouldn’t be.” She quips. She takes a sip of her tea before setting it on the coffee table. She grabs a pen and the crossword puzzle. She doesn’t hesitate to lean further into you so that you both can see the page. Despite her being cold, her warmth is comforting. She smells amazing. Clean. It sounds weird but it’s Wanda.

“Okay this one is literary lingo,” Wanda begins. She tucks the pen against her bottom lip as she reads across the page. “Two across says an exaggerated statement not to be taken literally.” She glances to you for help before turning back to the page.

“Hyperbole.” You answer. Piece of cake. She scribbles the answer onto the page before going to the next question. This is how much of the night goes until you finish the entire page. Wanda sets the book down in triumph. She picks up the turtle’s package and rips open the paper. She hands you one before biting into one herself. The candy is sticky and tough but delicious.

“Have you been back to the compound recently?” She asks you.

“Not really, I can’t bring myself to.” You shake your head. Going back there would only remind you of Natasha and Vision. She nods her head. She feels that way too. She chews before swallowing thickly.

“I think I want to start volunteering somewhere,” She says and you sit up a bit straighter in interest. Wanda adjusts herself so that she’s fully facing you. “I know I spend a lot of time with Ellie and I love her but I need some adult human interaction.”

“Wanda, if it’s too much please tell me, I can bring her to work with me some days and-”

“No,” She cuts you off. “It’s not that. I just want to do something good. I want to help other orphans maybe. Growing up in Sokovia without parents and then joined Hydra. I know it probably won’t be as dramatic here in America but I want to help them onto the right path. Whether with homework or reading.” Wanda’s hands move excitedly as she speaks. She’s passionate about this and you can’t help but smile seeing her so happy. She notices your look and smiles back. “What?”

“You’re a good person, Wanda Maximoff.” You reply. Her smile widens. It’s all she’s ever wanted to hear.

“Thank you, y/n. I think you’re pretty good too.” She grins cheekily. “So you think I should do it?”

“I think you should. I can get Steve or Peter and MJ to watch Ellie and I’ll come with you some days.” You suggest. NYC is only a train away so you figure it won’t be too bad.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod. Suddenly your arms are full of Wanda as she hugs you in gratitude. You think you're a bit touch-deprived as the feeling of Wanda in your arms is heaven-like.

“You’re the best.” Wanda smiles as she pulls back. “Are you too tired for a show?” She tilts her head towards the tv.

“No, put it on.” You watch as she grabs the remote, settling into your side again, as she finds her favorite episode of BEWITCHED.

**************************

The next few days are weekend days so you and Wanda attend a play date with another mom from the neighborhood. Her son, Tyler, is a month older than Ellie and they’re still a bit young for any real play but it’s more of a social thing. Tyler’s mom, Terry, is serving you and Wanda finger food as she talks about a new committee that’s happening in the neighborhood. They want to plan events for the coming year.

“I know things are hectic but it may be fun,” Terry shrugs as she sits across from you. “Mike probably won’t enjoy it but I’d figure us wives will.” She waves a hand dismissively. “Gives us something to do being stay-at-home moms.” This time she looks to Wanda. You don’t bother to correct her. This wouldn’t be the first time someone mistook you two for a couple since moving here.

Wanda nods, she might be considering the idea. You don’t think it sounds bad either. You’re just about to ask Terry about the type of events when Ellie crawls over to you with a toy block in one of her hands. She uses your knees to stand on her own feet. Her eyes are wide and trusting as she shows off the toy.

“It’s so nice,” You feign interest. You wonder if this is like a parent requirement. To give praise or encouragement to something your child wants to show you.

“Mama!” Ellie pushes the toy into Wanda’s lap. There’s a gasp but you can’t quite tell who it’s from. Wanda looks to you for the next step. “Mama!” Ellie is insistent as she pushes the toy further into Wanda’s lap.

“Go ahead, Mama.” You find your voice. You emphasize the title with a gesture to Ellie. Wanda swallows thickly before nodding. She looks down at Ellie before pulling her into her lap. The slipup was forgotten as she inspects the toy and puts on a voice for the toddler.

“Is this her first time saying it?” Terry asks with a smile noting your reactions.

“It’s the first time she’s directed it towards either of us.” You inform her. It’s true. Ellie has said Mama before in passing but she was never so indicative about whom she was talking to. Seeing her direct it to Wanda was startling but heartwarming. It brings tears to your eyes. Seeing the other woman respond and play with Ellie with such care. Wanda looks over to you with a smile before turning her attention back to Ellie.

Whoa. What was that you’re feeling? Butterflies. You haven't felt those in a while. Suddenly you feel as if you’re suffocating. The room feels smaller and you need space. You stand, excusing yourself from the room, to find a bathroom. You go to the one Terry directs you to. Wanda watches as you leave with a frown. Did something happen? You push the door closed leaning your head against it as you take harsh, breaths.

Wanda. Wanda Maximoff. Your best friend. You’re in love with her. It’s a thought that makes you want to puke. You don’t know how it has happened or when it’s happened but suddenly all of your feelings make sense. How happy you are to see her. Even on your date with Danny, all you could think about was Wanda. Coming home to Wanda. Spending time with Wanda. Kissing Wanda. Making love to her.

You gasp. This can’t be. You shake your head hoping it will rid you of the thoughts. Wanda lost the love of her life. You lost yours. It could be nothing more than what it was. She probably didn’t even feel the same way.

Life is crazy.

The car ride home is ridden in silence. Ellie has fallen asleep after the playdate. You glance at Wanda every few minutes. You don’t realize she’s looking at you too. You park in the driveway, helping her with Ellie’s bag when your hand brushes against hers. You pull away hiding the effect it has on you as you walk into the house. You put Ellie to bed on your own while Wanda does god knows what downstairs. You take your time dressing in a t-shirt and shorts before sitting on the bottom step to tie your shoes.

Wanda steps into the foyer to ask where you’re going. You both only just got home. She didn’t know you had plans to do anything.

“For a run,” This surprises her even further. You don’t like running. You despise it and yet here you are gearing up to run.

“You hate running,” Wanda points out. “In fact, the last time Steve suggested you run you told him you would rather have crows poke your eyes out and eat them for breakfast.”

Damn. You did say that.

“I’m trying something different,” You shrug. You stand to stretch before heading for the front door.

Wanda follows after you. Before you turn the knob she calls out to you.

“I’m sorry if I overstepped,” You pause and turn back to her.

“Overstep? Why would you think that?” You question her.

“Well, Ellie called me Mama and I know that’s what she would have called Nat. I’m not her mother.” Wanda folds her arms under her chest. A nervous move. “I thought you might be uncomfortable with that.”

“No, Wanda, that’s not it at all,” You assure her. “I’m so happy that Ellie views you as her Mama. There’s no one I would rather have that title. You are her Mama.” Wanda nods with tears in her eyes. Maybe she’s wanted that without really knowing. You find yourself wanting to kiss her tears away. Again. Whoa.

“Okay,” She gives you a small smile. “Have fun on your run.” She tells you and you nod. She watches you exit the front door. You do a few final stretches before you plug your headphones into your ear. Guess it was time to run.

It’s been two hours the next time you walk through the front door. The lights off save for the foyer. You kick off your shoes, rubbing your forehead with your sweaty shirt before you make your way upstairs. Wanda must be asleep. You check on Ellie as you do every night. She’s sound asleep. You hop into the shower and allow yourself to stand under the scalding hot water. You’re going to regret running so much in the morning. Your thoughts are riddled with Wanda as you shower, when you dry off, and when you dress. You can’t stop thinking of her. You don’t know what prompts you to do it but you suddenly find yourself in front of her bedroom door. Her lights are off but you knock anyway. No answer.

You twist the knob to find the door unlocked. You open the door and call her. She’s on her side facing away from the door. Her posture is a bit stiff.

“Wanda?” You question.

“Yeah?” She whispers into the darkness. She turns over just as you climb into the bed. You’re under the covers now and briefly you think about how comfortable her bed is. You can see her through the light emanating from her window. Her cheeks are stained with dry tear tracks. She’s been crying. “Y/n?” She tries to hide the shake in her voice as you look at her. It’s now or never.

Your eyes fly down to her lips then back to her eyes. You lift a hand to caress her cheek as you lean to plant a chaste kiss against her lips. She gasps, quickly recovering, before kissing you back. You pull back keeping your eyes closed. If you open them to her being angry with you, you don’t know if you’ll forgive yourself.

“Y/n,” Wanda asks.

“Wanda,” You whimper.

“Open your eyes, Malysh.” She raises her hand to rub her thumb against your hand still caressing your face. She takes hold of it before lowering it to lie on the covers between you. She never let's go. You open your eyes slowly to find nothing that you were afraid of.

“I wasn’t mad that Ellie called you Mama,” You repeat your sentiment from earlier. “I was confused. Her calling you Mama made me realize a few things.” Wanda listens. “You’ve been here through it all and yet I’ve never seen you for you until now. My selfless, sweet, Wanda.” You don’t know what you’re saying at this point. All you know is you want Wanda to know how much she means to you.

“I feel the same,” She doesn’t need to you say the words. She knows.

“I can’t believe I didn’t realize all of this time what was right in front of me,” You frown. “I can’t believe how long I wanted to kiss you and I didn’t see it as anything other than platonic.”

“I realized a couple of weeks ago.” You lift your head to rest on your elbows. “When you went out with Danny for the first time. I couldn’t figure out why I was so angry about it. Then I knew why. I wanted it to be me.”

“Wanda, why didn’t you say something?” You ask. “If I knew I wouldn’t have gone out with her.”

“I didn’t want to stand in the way of you finding love again,” Wanda shrugs.

“I don’t love Danny,”

“But you could,” Wanda points out.

“No, I couldn’t.” You say firmly. “Not when I love you.” It’s the first time you’re verbalizing this. “Don’t be a martyr when it comes to your heart, Wanda. Even with me.” You squeeze her hand. “It took me some time but I want you.”

“How do you know that after only a couple of hours?” She asks.

“It hasn’t been a couple of hours,” You shoot back. “It’s been months. The late nights with Ellie. The dinners we have. Our crossword nights. I enjoy them. I look forward to them. We’ve been spending a life together without us even realizing it. I want more with you. If you want it too.”

Wanda surges forward pushing you onto your back as she kisses you with a passion that has you moaning against her lips. The weight of her on top of you is pure bliss. All you can think, feel, and smell is Wanda. Reluctantly she pulls back to take in a deep breath.

“I want it too.” She doesn’t wait for you to answer as she kisses you again.

Five years later

“Mama, Mama, we got ice cream.” Ellie races across the park with your golden retriever, Max, in tow. She’s hanging onto the leash very loosely as she waves around the popsicles she has in her hand. Wanda looks up from her book to inspect the items as Ellie pushes them into her hands. You’re a few feet behind watching as Wanda interacts with the little girl.

“Do you think the baby likes fudgesicles?” Ellie asks as she drops down on the picnic blanket.

“I don’t know, Kiddo, you have to ask him.” You say as you sit next to Max. You watch with pure adoration as Ellie takes it upon herself to lift Wanda’s shirt to expose her swollen belly. Wanda looks over to you with amusement in her eyes.

“Hi baby brother or sister,” Ellie begins. “Mommy told me to ask you if you like Fudgesicles. I bought some for you.” Ellie waits as if she’s truly expecting an answer. “Baby says yes.” She looks up at Wanda for confirmation. Wanda takes the Fudgesicle with gratitude as she licks into it.

“I think baby made a good choice,” Wanda grins. She runs her free hands over Ellie’s brown ringlets to smooth it down a bit.

“Me too,” Ellie says in between licks.

“I think I made a good choice,” You say and Wanda nods. Her too.

#black reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x you #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x y/n

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abbyscherry · 22 days

Text

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❀ — CAFÉS & CROSSWORDS

🇵🇸 daily click | palestine masterpost | important tlou post

loser abby chokes on air, almost drops her pencil, and crossword book on the floor when she notices you walking into the small café that she’s always visiting, for the first time. a bright smile on your face that has her cheeks flushing crimson red under the dim lighting of the area she was sitting in, just because of how bright your smile was. her palms suddenly sweaty when you’re letting out a laugh. a laugh she wants to constantly hear.

the turtle neck sweater suddenly feels too tight around her neck, her blush deepening when you’re turning around, still laughing with your friends, and your eyes slowly trail around until they’re landing on her. smiling softly when you spot her scrambling for her pen, looking away just as quick when she’s realising you had just caught her staring shamelessly.

abby was quickly trying to act oblivious to your staring. if she could stare at you and blush whenever you find her looking, why can’t you stare and smirk when she catches you watching? but it was slightly harder for her because she could feel your eyes burning into the side of her face. almost like you were trying to knock her glasses off just by looking at her.

she had barely even realized you’d grabbed your drink, and made your way over to the selection of books on the shelf when abby turned around, without seeming too shy this time or hiding it better, to look for you. only pouting as a result when she couldn’t find you. had you left? why was she already wanting to fawn over you from a distance and never actually talk to you? was she scared? maybe. would she ever say anything to you unless you did? never.

it was cute. cute watching her look for you and she barely even knew your name.

simply unaware you were standing behind her, finding the whole interaction more adorable with a smile on your face when she’s burying her face back into her book, or whatever it was that she was reading or doing.

taking a few steps forward, you couldn’t help but wonder what she was doing. your interest peaking higher at the pretty blonde who suddenly gained your attention as you heard before you could see the pencil in her hand, tapping on the wooden table and a angry scoffed came from her.

your smile brightened a few seconds later at the simple realisation she liked to do puzzles, and was clearly seconds away from giving up.

“introgression” you finally spoke up after watching her struggle for an extra few minutes on writing and erasing the incorrect answer.

the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, turning around on her chair quickly and regrettably knocking her knee on the table in the process when she found you, standing there with your head cocked to the side and chuckling. with a wince, she replied with a stammered, “what?” looking anywhere but at you.

“the answer to your crossword question. what is a 13-letter word meaning entrance? it’s introgression”

“oh”

“m’sorry, you’ve just been staring at it for a while” you chuckled, smiling down at her.

“it kinda slipped my mind i guess, but thank you”

“you’re welcome” you giggled, fumbling with your bracelet. “do you do crosswords a lot?”

“uhm, sometimes? keeps my brain focused” abby nodded, nervously tucking a strand of loose hair behind her glasses, and pushing her glasses higher up on her nose. “s’tupid, i know”

“no, no. s’not stupid, it’s cute” you reassured her quickly, smirking at her sudden flushed cheeks. “i can help you finish it, if you’d like? no pressure, i just like crosswords too”

“you uh, want to—”

“yes pretty girl, i want to crossword with you”

“aren’t you busy?”

“never too busy to talk to someone as handsome as you. oh and the crosswords too, obviously, i guess”

abby couldn't stop blushing at your words while you placed your hot drink on the table, sitting down on the chair opposite her. “you’re definitely here for the puzzle” she giggled.

“and something else, but let’s finish this before we get to the details about our date, yeah?”

#loser!abby #abby anderson #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson drabble #abby anderson fluff #abby the last of us #abby anderson tlou2 #abby tlou

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shipmvns · 1 year

Text

i’m still thinking about callie sadecki. i just love her so much. i’m thinking about her overwhelming empathy for her mom and how it’s always been there—the little tremor in her voice and the way she glances away when she asks “is dad working late again? ...i’m sorry” in the pilot. she bitches at her mom plenty but the second she gets high in blood hive she’s literally crying in the club because she recognizes at this core level that her mom, too, was just a girl once, and she lost people, and she didn’t start out as a bad person, and this isn’t who she would have been otherwise.

callie begins season 2 by calling her mom selfish, saying shauna doesn’t care about her, and callie’s so horrified over what shauna did to adam, but by the finale, callie has shot lottie to protect her mom. “get away from my mom” and callie doesn’t sound powerful or in control or badass, she sounds so so scared, it’s all but a sob, no “get the fuck away from my mom,” she sounds like a kid. still holding the gun pointed at lottie, she says, “mom?” waiting for shauna to tell her what to do. waiting to hear that it’s okay.

am i like mom? retaking her trig test, solving the crossword without so much as thinking about it, conjuring fake tears at the same time as her mom with a single police station wall between them because she’s that intent on sticking by her mom’s side, even though they’d been arguing walking in minutes before. am i like mom? holding the gun that shauna stole, shaking, she just shot a stranger and she’s maybe going to again, they were going to kill you, and the unspoken implication that if callie has to kill them instead to keep that from happening, then maybe she will.

shauna, who never let herself get truly close to callie for fear that callie might die. shauna, who would be dead right now if it weren’t for her kid.

#callie sadecki #shauna shipman #shauna sadecki #yellowjackets #yellowjackets season 2 #yellowjackets s2 #yjs2 #yj #yellowjackets spoilers #yj spoilers

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starrywilliams · 4 months

Text

nerdy abby save me…⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚

notes: cba to finish this or reread it…slight nsfw warning

one of your favourite things about abby was how smart she was: eyes always fixated on some classic novel and fingers often wrapped around a pen as she completed the daily crossword. you’d be watching some quiz show with her, head in her lap as she played with your hair, when some question about some fucking philosopher would come up. you’d hear her mumble the answer, as if it was just common knowledge. “what?” you’d say, turning to look up at her. she’d repeat the answer, voice tinged with a nonchalance that elicited some carnal reaction from your body.

as your breathing got heavier, she’d ask “what is it, baby?” eyes looking down at you with concern. but then she’d do it again, scoffing as the contestant got the question wrong. you accidentally let out a small whine. it was so quiet, but you felt the grip on your hair tighten ever so slightly, “tell me.” she said.

“it’s nothing.” you whispered, unsure how to verbalize it anyway. “it’s not nothing. so tell me.” her voice was soft, welcoming even - but you knew her too well. it wasn’t a question, it was a command: one you knew you had to obey.

“it’s just…” you began, biting your lip as you tried to figure out what to say. “it’s just that you’re so smart and i-it kind of…” you paused, feeling her blue eyes burn against your skin. “kind of what?” her voice was deep; anticipating your next words.

“kind of…made-me-want-you-to-fuck-me-right-now?” you mumbled breathlessly, embarrassment heating your cheeks. “that’s cute.” abby muttered, smiling softly as her tongue darted over her lip. “cute?” you repeated, slightly puzzled. she’d called you a lot of things before, but cute certainly wasn’t them.

“yeah, it’s cute - endearing really.” she said, hand snaking gently around your neck - tracing your jawline down to your collarbones. “what is?” you asked, feeling your carotid artery thump against your skin. “oh nothing, just how desperate you are.” you tried to interject, but were cut off. “i could breathe and you’d be on your knees, just begging for me to fuck you.”

you gulped, processing her words. you could pretend to be offended, but you knew she was right. there was just something about her that had you breathless simply thinking of her. her other hand which had previously laid idle on your chest rolled over, fingers stretching below your bust: thumb skimming the underside of your boob as it went back and forth.

but her attention wasn’t on you anymore, it was back on the tv. she continued to answer the questions with accuracy, hand ever so slowly moving upwards. “can you?” you gasped gently, feeling her thumb finally brush over your nipple. “can i what?” she replied, not giving up on the uninterested act.

“y’know what.” you sighed, arching into her hand. “i know i’m so smart but i don’t think i do.” she said, watching as you rubbed your thighs together. “so you’re gonna have to tell me.”

#tlou #the last of us #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #mimi’s fic updates ✨#abby anderson smut #abby the last of us

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yellowharrington · 3 months

Text

sugar sweet -- carmy berzatto x reader

pairing + fandom: carmen "carmy" berzatto x reader, the bear fx

word count: ~2.5k

warnings: brief mention of body image issues (not towards reader) and suicide (mikey's death), eating dessert and a lot of food talk, gn!reader (but mention of wearing heels), use of y/n briefly in texts. reader is mentioned as an accountant or adjacent professional person and smoking is mentioned (reader and carmy). please let me know if i missed anything :)

a/n: hey team !! i hope y'all enjoy this fluffy little blorbo about carmy's birthday bc i needed to write about being soft to him. this is an old wip i finally finished so pls rb and leave feedback and comments ily

summary: it's carmy's birthday and you want to make it special for him again.

-`♡´-

It’s not that Carmy doesn’t like his birthday.

No, it’s not that.

It’s just that he’s never had a good one.

When he was 9, his mom tried to make him a birthday cake. French vanilla, with buttercream icing, multicoloured sprinkles on top. But she had somehow managed to get so frustrated that she had thrown the whisk across the kitchen, the burnt cake thrown in the sink, and taken to the backyard for her millionth cigarette of the day. She was breaking down, as usual, and Carmy was the one that had to go out and rub her back and tell her it was fine. That he was fine, that he didn’t matter, and no, she didn’t ruin his birthday.

When he was 13, he ended up spending the afternoon consoling Natalie in her bedroom, after his mom had again, made a backhanded comment about her body. That yeah, she’d gained weight in her midsection, and yeah, the stress was showing on her hips. She was sobbing into her pillows, clutching her pink sheets and wailing, leaving Carmy with nothing to do but kiss her on the cheek and leave her alone. He assured her, again, that he was fine, that he didn’t matter, and no, she didn’t ruin his birthday.

And when he’s 24 and scrubbing the floors of The Beef at midnight, sweat dripping down his forehead and into the collar of his shirt. Michael had just died, so yeah, it was a little raw. The fluorescent lights were beating down on his back as he dumped hot soapy water on the floor and scrubbed everything away. Scrubbed away his memories, every Christmas with his brother, every screaming match. He let it all go down the drain. He’s assured himself that he’s fine, he didn’t matter, and no, Michael’s fucking suicide would not ruin his birthday.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

He meets you later that year. Sitting in the park, doing a crossword at 7:00am, your BEC and hot coffee cooling off on the bench beside you. You’re obviously a professional of some kind: tight black slacks and a matching blazer, white dress shirt stretched over your torso, hair pristinely styled. Black heels, he notices, that you’ll switch out in the middle of the day because they squeeze your toes.

When he sits beside you, you don’t pay him any mind. He’s disheveled, sandy curls pushed back on his head, a grey crewneck sweater over a white t-shirt, collar peaking through at the neck. He sets his identical breakfast next to yours, taking out a cigarette and slipping it between his lips. You look over when he flicks his lighter, a soft exhale leaving his nose. “Oh, sorry,” he takes the cigarette from his lips and wafts the smoke away. “I forgot not everyone in this city smokes.”

You smiled tightly, nodding, letting yourself relax onto the back of the bench. “I don’t mind.” He nodded back to you, letting his hand rest on his knee as he took another drag. “Anything worth reading in there today?” He gestures to the newspaper balanced on your knee. You look at him again, shrugging your shoulders, only to tap your pen against the side of your leg. “No, there never is. I just do the crosswords. You wouldn’t happen to know a 4 letter word for ‘kitchen second in command’, would you?”

He laughs a little, taking another slow drag. “Sous?” You look down at the newspaper, penning in the small boxes, sitting back to smile at him. “Thank you,” you raise your coffee cup to him. “‘m a chef, over at The Beef in River North,” he has a mouthful of his sandwich now, as he points in the general direction of the restaurant. “Oh, yeah, I think you guys catered one of our events one time. It’s like, sandwiches and stuff, right?” He nods, taking a sip of coffee. You follow after him, letting the hot coffee touch your lips.

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I, uh, just took it over. It’s kind of a shit show right now but we’re tryna fix it.” You unwrap the sandwich and sink your teeth into the soft bagel, covering your mouth before beginning to speak. “What happened to the guy who used to own it? Did you just buy it off of him, or what?”

“He died,” he says, deadpan, letting the cigarette come between his lips again. “He was my brother and uh, yeah - he died.” You nod at your own embarrassment, at the thought of asking a random stranger about his dead brother by accident. “Oh, I didn’t-uh, God - sorry,” you stammer, letting yourself turn towards him. “It’s fine,” he waves the smoke away again. “It’s not a big deal.” You almost laugh at his demeanour, so nonchalant. You pull a cardholder out of your blazer pocket, the small clasp opening. Cream cardstock, black writing - a business card, handing it over to him, but not before scribbling your personal number on the back. “If you need anything, accounting related or otherwise, call me.” He takes it and looks for a second, raising his eyebrow at the pristine card. “I can’t afford you,” he laughs. “No charge. Thanks for the help on the crossword…” you wait expectantly for a name. “Oh, Carmen. Carmy,” he finishes. “Nice to meet you.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

It had been a few months since your first meeting. Now, you chose to spend almost every Sunday with him - his one day off. He’d usually make you breakfast, sometimes an omelette with gouda cheese and chives, or fluffy pancakes with a berry compote and homemade whipped cream. For a man that cooked all day, every day, he certainly didn’t mind making any meals for you, especially when you woke up next to him in his old t-shirt and nothing underneath.

You’d known Carmy for long enough now to have pieced together the whole story - a few nights here and there coming around The Beef after closing had granted you the pleasure of meeting Richie, who Carmy affectionately called Cousin. “He’s a little fucked up,” Richie had told you behind the slightly ajar door of the office, as you sat and waited for Carm to finish up. “With Mikey and everything. He won’t let ‘ya know, but he is. I’m happy he’s got somebody,” he looks back at the kitchen, the usual pots and pans clanging behind him. “You didn’t hear it from me, but it’s his birthday on Sunday,” Richie gets closer to you, his hand coming closer. “Back up Richie,” “Sorry. Force of habit. Do not tell him I told you. Take it to your grave. He likes red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese icing like a little bitch boy, they’re his favourite, alright?” You nod, looking to see if he was anywhere near. “Heard.”

You catch Marcus on the way out while Carmy fucks with something else in the kitchen. “Hey, Marcus,” you grab his arm, right before he’s about to put a headphone in and start on his way home. “Hey, what’s good?” “I need a red velvet cake recipe. And a cream cheese icing recipe. And a walk through of how to bake a batch of cupcakes. Please.” He nodded slightly, looking down at his phone. “I’ll text you what I’ve got. Is it a special occasion?” You look over at Carmy, who was wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Yeah, uh, it is.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Marcus had let you borrow a few cupcake pans and a package of liners, as well as his KitchenAid stand mixer for the batter. You’d gathered all of the ingredients from the recipe he’d given you, set everything up in your tiny apartment kitchen on the Saturday before Carmy’s birthday, furiously mixing wets and drys in different bowls, sifting flour and separating egg whites from yolks. The cigarette was taught between your lips, tank top strap falling off your shoulder as you slowly began to mix the batter together.

[Carmen] 11:18pm

Hey

How are you baby?

Just finishing up here

You flicked the cigarette ash onto the fire escape as you nodded your head in rhythm with the song on the speaker, letting the batter mix in the background as you started to sift the powdered sugar into the clean bowl. You weren’t even looking at the time until you heard the familiar chime of your phone, sticky floury hands grabbing your cell phone to see the text from Carmy.

“Shit, fuck,” you turned the mixer off, putting the remnants of your cigarette out in the sink.

[(Y/N) personal] 11:26pm

Hey, just busy right now

Will text in a bit

Love you

When Carmy reads the text he’s a little… surprised to say the least. For you to have plans on a Saturday night was not unheard of by any means, but it wasn’t what he was expecting. Anxiety creeped up a little, because what could you be doing at 11:30pm?

[Carmen] 11:27pm

Love you too

You ok?

[(Y/N) personal] 11:27pm

Of course

Come over when you’re done

A smile tugs on the corner of his lips as he continues to wipe down the stainless steel counter in front of him, nearly spotless already. Most of the other crew has gone home, save for Marcus in his station proofing his donuts for tomorrow and Richie texting someone at the expo line. He slips his phone in the pocket under his apron, undoing the knot on the back and dropping it in the hamper by the back door. “You guys can lock up, yeah?” Carmy calls, seeing Marcus nod at him and bid him goodnight with a small wave. “Heard,” Richie calls. “‘Night, cousin.”

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

Carmy had called a few times, your phone ringing and ringing, but the chaotic kitchen had forced you to miss the calls. It was past midnight now, and you’d spent your whole day in the kitchen, the night getting away from you way quicker than you had intended. You had a small box in your bedside table, a thin gold chain you hadn’t wrapped for him yet, and your apartment was a fucking mess. Pans and bowls strewn across every surface, flour on the floors and walls, and somehow, and you had cream cheese icing under your fingernails. It was a bit of a mess.

When the icing was done, you managed to squeeze some on the tops of the cupcakes just in time to hear the lock on your door click. You stood, silently, as you heard Carmy quietly kick off his boots. He thought you might be sleeping.

Ha, far from it.

“Babe?”

When he rounded the corner, it was a sight to see for sure. Your hands twisted around a makeshift pastry bag, which was really a ZipLoc with a hole cut in the bottom. Apron tied in a bow around your waist, only accentuating the curves of your body. Carmy drinks you in.

“What are you doing?”

You looked at him like a deer in the headlights.

“Baking.”

“Yeah. I see that.”

He stepped forward tentatively, an amused smile on his face. His hand reached to the small of your back, a kiss adorning your cheek.

“Why are you baking?” He takes a finger to the end of the bag, sticking it in his mouth and marvelling at the taste. “Why are you killing it at baking?”

You smiled. “Don’t be mad.”

His eyebrow cocked, noticing the desserts in front of him, really, for the first time since he stepped in the door.

“Fucking Richie,” his hand found his forehead. “Fucker.”

“Happy Birthday, Carm.” You let the bag of icing flop on the stovetop, while your arms wrapped around his neck. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, slotting them together to quiet the thoughts in his mind. You started to pepper kisses all over his face and neck, giggling between them, before he couldn’t help but burst into laughter himself.

“He told me they were your favourite, and I asked Marcus for a recipe and I haven’t tried one yet, even!” the words tumbled out of your mouth as he pulled you impossibly closer, swaying a little with you in his arms.

“Sorry. Richie told me not to make a dig deal, I just thought,” you shrugged, letting your hands slide down his biceps and tracing the faded tattoos there with your pointer finger. “I thought we could make it special again. If you want.”

The wild look in your eyes was enough to have him push forward again, lips crashing into lips, the amalgamation of all the tastes from his day on your tongue.

“Thank you.” He peers over your shoulder at the cupcakes, still in the tin, suddenly very interested in tasting the fruits of your labour.

“Should we try these?” His hand drops effortlessly to your waist, letting his body push past yours. He picks up a cupcake, handing one to you and ‘cheers’ing them playfully. He unwrapped the foil on the outside, sinking his teeth into the soft, sweet dessert.

“Mmmh,” he moans, letting his eyes roll back into his head slightly. “Wow,” the red colour coats his teeth. “Yeah.”

You nod along with him, your own teeth sinking in. “Oh yeah, I kinda killed it with these.”

“Hm, wait,” you put the cupcake down, pushing past him. You take the opportunity to put your hand on his broad back, feeling the muscles underneath.

When you return, he’s licking the rest of the icing off of his fingers. The way his lips wrap around his fingers makes your breath hitch.

“Before you say anything, it’s just small, if you hate it you can return it, blah blah blah…” you trail off, but you can’t hide the excitement across your features.

He pulls open the clamshell box, the gold chain reflecting against the warm lights of the kitchen and dancing along the walls. His lips part slightly, forming an “o” shape, with surprise.

“You’re…” he seems genuinely speechless. Carmy usually isn’t a man of many words, anyway, but this was noticeably different.

“Do you like it?” Your bottom lip is folded under your teeth in anticipation, eyes flickering up to meet his.

“You’re perfect,” is all he can say, and you swear you can see his eyes get a little glassy.

“Aw, well, don’t get soft on me now,” you let your arms wrap around him once again, pulling him into a hug this time. Your head fits perfectly into his chest, smelling the distinct scent of his signature cologne, long now covered by the smells of the restaurant. Him.

His nose fits perfectly into the crook of your neck as he leans down, deepening the hug to pull you in impossibly close. His lips latch onto the soft spot beneath your ear, enraptured by your presence.

For the first time in his life, Carmy is actually going to have a good birthday.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

#carmen berzatto #the bear #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy x you #the bear fx fanfic #the bear fx fanfiction #the bear fanfic

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yelenasdiary · 3 months

Note

I saw your request were open and I’ve been dying to send you this request. I was wondering if you could do a top F reader x bottom Wanda. Reader is an eternal and their also deaf. They first met Wanda after the wandavision events. They have a one night stand and Wanda finds one she’s pregnant (reader has a penis} so now they’re trying to navigate the pregnancy and their relationship. They agree to do parent but as time goes on they start to fall in love! Please add a bunch of smut and fluff! Maybe some angst please

Take Me Home

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Eternal, Fem! & Deaf! Reader

Summary: A one night stand changes everything for the better.

Angst, Fluff & Brief Mention of Smut. 18+ ONLY, Minors & Men DNI!

Warnings: Mentions of Drinking, Reader has a penis, Unprotected Sex, Oral (Wanda Receiving), Pregnancy, Pregnancy Talk, Mentions of Abortion | 2.5K

AC: Please know that I am not Deaf. So I write this purely on research, if I have said anything wrong or offensive, please kindly message me so I can fix it. I mean absolutely no harm. Reader communicates via sign language, so all conversations are in italics, this means they are signing and not verbally speaking. Thank you for sending this, although I didn’t include a full smut scene I still hope you enjoy this! x

Cupid's Dream Masterlist

Two pink lines stared back at her while her heart skipped a beat. She knew it was true before she even took the test, tears filled her eyes as she remembered the events that took place in Westview. Now in hiding, the ex-Avenger only had herself to fall back on. It was the one time she decided to grab a hot meal at the local bar near her remote mountainside cabin in the woods of Sokovia when she met you.

You were having a few drinks by yourself when the woman sat only inches beside you at the bar. She was troubled, her sad presence screamed to you as you turned to her slightly and gave her a soft welcoming smile. She smiled back, even though she could barely bring herself to form the returning smile.

“Rough Day?” you asked in sign language. She nodded, “rough couple of months” she signed back.

“Here, let me.” You smiled once more before placing a $10 bill on the bar to pay for her drink, “it seems you need something good right now” you signed.

“Thank you” the woman smiled softly before taking a sip of her wine.

She intrigued you to say the least, you’d never seen her around here before and assumed she was new to the small town, if you’d even call it that. The small street of buildings was only built for loggers that worked high in the mountains; it had the essentials. A small general store for basic needs, a mechanic and hardware store, a bakery, a doctor’s office and of course the bar which also acted as a restaurant. A small population of 100 people lived around here, well, 101 now that you’d made a cabin home for the past three months.

You tried to go back to doing your own thing, having a drink, and completing the crossword puzzle in the newspaper but the woman’s running mind distracted your focus. You turned to face her only to notice she was already looking at you. Her eyes spoke a million words and suddenly you knew she wasn’t like anybody else in the bar.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” you asked. She was hesitant at first, taking another sip of her drink so she didn’t waste your money, but she nodded.

“Are you here for me?” Wanda asked while the two of you walked slowly down the single road street covered in snow. “No. I am just a stranger you met in a bar” you replied with a soft smile in hopes it would ease her worries. It didn’t take Wanda very long to work out that you weren’t like everybody else in this town, there was a different kind of communication between the two of you. She could hear your thoughts just as much as you could hear hers. Although you knew very little of the woman, you knew enough to know she was in pain.

----

Wanda’s mind replayed that night after you’d walked her home. How her nails dug deeply into your back as your lips were interlocked with hers and the way you reach for the bedsheets as your tongue overstimulated her clit but more importantly, she remembered the way you made her feel and how she’d never felt the things you made her feel, how you were able to make her forget even just for that night how much she was truly hurting.

Those thoughts brought her back to the two pink lines staring back at her. “Fuck” she mumbled quietly to herself as she placed the pregnancy test on the bathroom counter. It would be a lie to say she wasn’t having a moment while washing her hands that her twin boys that she missed deeply and how badly she wished to hold them just once more.

Wanda rang your doorbell, a blue light flickered throughout your small cabin to alert you somebody was at the door. Wanda was the last person you expected to be standing on the other side, even if you sensed it was her before you even turned the knob.

“Wanda how are you?” you asked, greeting her with a soft smile. She didn’t return the smile; her eyes were slightly puffy and red. “Is everything okay?” you asked.

“Can I come in? we need to talk” she replied. You nodded, moving to the side to allow her to walk into your home. “I’m really sorry to come here out of the blue” she turned to you as you closed the door behind her.

“Don’t stress, it’s okay. Not sure how you found my address but it’s okay” you chuckled in hopes it would lighten the mood, but it didn’t.

“I’m pregnant” she said, getting to the point. The news shocked you a little but explained why you felt she didn’t arrive alone. “I don’t expect you to do anything or even want to be a part of this. I just thought you had a right to know” Wanda added.

“It takes two to tangle, are you okay?” you replied trying to process the news. Wanda’s eyes filled with tears as she shrugged, “I d-don’t know, I made some mistakes that lead me to the reason why I even moved here” she explained, wiping the falling tears from her cheeks. You knew what she was talking about, you were an Eternal, of course you knew but you weren’t allowed to do anything about the events of Westview, and you didn’t ask too many questions about the situation.

“I don’t want you to worry about anything, I am here for you and the baby. Whatever you decide to do, I am here. If you want to keep it, we will work it out. If you want to have an abortion, I will be there to hold your hand” you smiled ever so softly before you reached to get her a tissue. Wanda looked you in the eyes, allowing you to hear all her worries and concerns.

You reached for her hand, “you’re not alone. We are in this together” you assured her. “We barely know each other. I do not expect you to step up like this” Wanda replied.

“Let’s start with meeting up for coffee, well, decaf coffee. How does that sound? We can get to know each other more and talk about what is on your mind and if you want to go through with this or not” you offered.

Wanda nodded as a light smile tugged at her lips, “I would like that, thank you”.

----

As the weeks went on, you and Wanda met for coffee three times a week. Most of the conversations were about getting to know one another and sometimes Wanda would bring up a worry or concern she had. You never asked her if she had made a decision on whether she would be keeping the baby or not, you felt that was something she would tell you when she was ready.

Of course, one of Wanda’s most worrying concern was the baby’s health and what it meant for the baby to be born with the shared genes of a Witch and an Eternal. Both with so much power and abilities, it was something that Wanda couldn’t shake. This led to you telling her everything you knew about your abilities and powers.

“This baby is going to be more than a handful of surprises” Wanda smiled softly making your eyes widen with excitement.

“Does this mean you’ve made a decision?” you asked. Wanda nodded, “I want to have this baby. I want to do this with you and its okay if you don’t want to do this” she replied. You stood up from your seat and embraced Wanda in a hug, “I want to do this with you as well” you smiled as you both pulled away.

“I guess this means we have a lot more to talk about” Wanda smiled.

----

You didn’t want to miss a single moment during Wanda’s pregnancy, it was a conversation that you brought to the table before Wanda asked if you’d like to come spend a couple nights a week at her place. You loved cooking for her every night and making her breakfast in bed when her morning sickness went away. After so many years of seeming almost everything, you never thought you’d find something so special again.

Life was growing in front of your eyes, you finally had something to be excited about once again. A new chapter was opening up for you, a new life, a life you never thought you’d be able to have so the thought never crossed your mind and Wanda could see just how happy you were. She saw the smile on your face whenever she caught you admiring the ultra-sound photo, she saw the sparkle in your eyes whenever the two of you had a conversation about the baby.

But for Wanda, it wasn’t the same. Although she was happy about having a baby, she couldn’t keep herself from thinking of her boys and how she wondered what they would think of a baby sibling. She wondered how they would react, she wondered if they would wish for a baby brother or sister, she wondered if they had their own name ideas to add to the list you and Wanda had slowly began to dot down.

“What were they like? Your boys” you asked Wanda one night while she was lost in thought. She looked at you and smiled softly at the thought of talking about her twins. “They were perfect. Tommy is my little prankster” she starts with a chuckle, “he was always getting himself in all sorts of mischief. Billy, he was the opposite. He loved video games and training our dog Sparky. Both boys loved their ice cream and movie night” the smile on her lips only grew wider as she talked more about the beloved twins.

“They sound like a lot of fun; you must miss them” you placed a hand on top of Wanda’s for comfort.

“I do, a lot” A tear rolled down her cheek. You could tell she needed a shift of conversation and offered to make her a banana split milkshake to fill her cravings.

----

At six months, you and Wanda had grown closer. You were both wanting this co-parenting plan to work and began to look around for a home to move into together. The two of you would decorate the nursey together, Wanda using her powers to move the furniture around to save the hassle of you both burning yourselves out doing it. You went to every doctor’s appointment with Wanda and kept every ultra-sound photo they offered. Wanda loved seeing how excited and happy you were and as time went on, she found herself becoming more comfortable with the fact the twins weren’t here to share this new chapter with her.

“How did you book this place?” Wanda asked after the waiter seated you both. It was Wanda’s birthday and you wanted to do something special for her, so you booked reservations at a restaurant she’d been talking about a lot recently.

“I know the owner, they kind of owe me a favour” you replied before picking up the menu. Things had slightly been a little different between you both, usually you could hear each other’s thoughts and feelings but recently you had trouble connecting with Wanda that way. You thought maybe it was something to do with the pregnancy and maybe she just wanted that extra bit of privacy, so you tried not to think about it as much, but it was hard when you found yourself falling for her.

“This is certainly a surprise, thank you” Wanda smiled. You returned the smile but quickly used the menu to hide the blushing of your cheeks. This was a new feeling that you had no control over.

“Has something happened? Between us?” Wanda asked shortly after finishing her main meal, you shook your head before taking a mouthful of your drink. “Not at all, have I done something to make you think that?” you asked.

“You just seem a little distant lately, that’s all” Wanda replied.

“I’m sorry. I just thought that with only a few months left until the baby arrives that you might want some more alone time” you explained, not entirely a lie but a good enough excuse to stop her from thinking it was something more.

“You know, we have spoken a lot about myself over the last few months but you don’t like to share much. I am here for you like you are for me and if you want to talk about anything, you can talk to me. We’re in this together, remember?” Wanda said looking deeply into your eyes. You took another mouthful of your drink and deep breath before replying.

“I used to have a family and friends, but some went back to planet Olympia, some stayed on Earth and are trying to live a normal life, but I never felt like I fitted in anywhere. Not here and not in Olympia. I have been on my own for many years and I was getting tired of living this repetitive life. But when you said you wanted to keep the baby, everything changed for me. You have given me something new and exciting, a new life and I don’t want to ruin it because of something I can’t control” you explained.

“Why would you think you would ruin this? I would never stop you from being in our baby’s life if things didn’t work out with our plan” Wanda assured you.

“Feelings weren’t apart of the plan” you replied.

Wanda froze for a moment before she stood from her seat, you did the same thinking she was leaving but instead she walked up to you and gently cupped your face and kissing you deeply. You kissed her back, your hands resting gently on her lips, ever so slightly pulling her closer to you as you deepened the kiss.

“Take me home” Wanda smiled softly as you both pulled away for air.

----

You woke up to find Wanda’s side of the bed empty, there was only one place she would be. You walked down the hall and there she was, cradling your baby girl back to sleep. The sight in front of you made you smile softly before you walked up behind Wanda, wrapping your arms around her and placing a kiss on her cheek. Wanda smiled softly, never taking her eyes off the little girl in her arms.

Your body moved with Wanda’s until the little girl’s eyes came to a close and Wanda carefully placed her back in her crib. She turned in your arms to face you, kissing you softly.

“I know it was your turn to tend to her, but I couldn’t help myself. She’s perfect” Wanda smiled. “Next time, wake me. I don’t want to miss a single thing” you replied before kissing her once more.

If you want to be on the taglist for my work, please click HERE.

#yelenasdiary asks #anon #fanfiction #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #happy valentines #marvel

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hecateslore · 3 months

Text

💌

hi childreennn mother had to jot this down while my brain was still going from earlier plz enjoy more supervisor!simon

Wednesday strolled in with ease. You and Simon avoided each other all day on tuesday. You knew you were really pissed when you thought of sending an anonymous complaint to HR.

It was lunchtime and you sat at your desk headphones in watching your comfort tv show and eating your lunch. Simon walked out of his with a thick stack of papers. He walked up to your desk, dropped the papers harshly, “Get these done when you’re finished.” he demanded. You looked up with a mouthful of food, “I’m on my break.” you snap back at him. “There’ll be no break after this ever, if these aren’t half finished by the end of the day.” he barked back only to earn looks from the others (we live in a sassy man apocalypse I fear😣.) You roll your eyes, “And if I see your headphones again, that’s another strike.” he finishes.

It all seemed like too much to behave this way for an office job. You were ready to flip your desk, kick a monitor and slap him in the back of the head. All of the sudden he just became this douche. Not once have you ever given him any problems, have you ever screwed up.

A part of you wanted to ask him what the problem was, so you threw your plate away and went to the bathroom and facetime your best friend.

“Please tell me you sent in a complaint.” Your bestie sighed over the phone. “No I'm scared, online it said your identity might have to be revealed.” You said as you watched your bestfriends face screw up, “Just put in your two weeks, we’re hiring over here,” she suggested , “I’ll see if I can get you a spot, my manager’s really cool.” She gives you a smile. You look at the time and see you have 5 minutes left to chat before you have to get back to work. “I gotta go, but let me know what your manager says.” you bite your cheek, “will do !” she says before hanging up. You let out an exasperated sigh and go back to your desk.

On Thursday you worked the front alone, you were kind of glad because you were out of Simon's sight and you didn’t have to see the problem look so damn good in slacks. You sat and answered calls while listening to some music. It was a pretty peaceful day, not too many people came in so you kind of just sat and waited, you did some crossword puzzles, played some games on your computer, ignoring the get back to work email from Simon. It was lunch time when you and Simon interacted for the first time in a couple of days. You were getting ready to walk to the grocery store in the plaza you worked at (do they have these outside of America? Like shopping malls, or like strip malls?? Plz let me know.).

“Heading out?” he asked, leaning against the wall near the exit. You rolled your eyes, praying he didn’t notice. “I got to go to the market also, maybe I can keep you company?” he offered.

“I don’t care.” you mumbled, obviously very bothered by his presence. You grabbed your bag, and headed towards the door, Simon following behind you closely. “What’re you gonna buy?” he asked, “food.” he let out a sigh, “food’s always good.” he said, swinging his arms back and forth.

Simon felt like a kid who disappointed his mother, he doesn’t know what he did, but it was something that made her angry. In this case, he knew you were angry but you couldn’t still be angry from Monday's quarrel.

When you entered the market you made sure to separate yourself from Simon, you head to the little deli in the back, and got a turkey sandwich (I love turkey sandwiches if anyone cares.)

Somehow Simon ended up finding you, you two stood next to each other silently watching the elder man thinly slice the meat and place it on the bun. “Looks delicious.” he says, and you say nothing. You prance around the store finding some snacks for your desk, picking up a snickers bar for Linda cause those are her favorites. Simon followed you around like a lost puppy , paying for his stuff after you. You walked out before him and sat at the exact table you sat at when he decided he wanted to be a dick for the first time.

Simon walked out of the store and found you sitting alone, eating alone, watching people walk around the shopping mall. “Lost ya.” he smiled, his one dimple showing. You looked at him with a blank face. Simon pursed his lips and sat and ate his lunch quickly.

“Saw you looking for jobs online.” he broke the silence. “Yup.” you hum, “You’re thinking of quitting?” Simon inquired. “I’m looking at jobs so?” you drawled out earning wide eyes from simon. “You know I can fire you for that.” he takes a sip from his water bottle, “you’d fire a wild bear for shitting in the woods if it worked for you.” You scoffed, in return Simon let out a cackle, and you almost smiled at his natural laugh. “I think I've found a job though. So I'll be out of your hair in no time” Simon smile drops, “who said I wanted you out of my hair?” his brows furrow.

You smack your lips together, “let’s not be obtuse.” you sigh.

“You want to quit because of me?” he asked, “If I say yeah, are you gonna speed up the process?” you ribbed. “You really want to quit because of me?” Simon was in disbelief, he seriously couldn’t believe it. Was he too harsh? But that’s how you two were, you’d taunt each other. At least that’s what he thought. “I’m going back.” you say while getting up and throwing your trash.

Simon sat by himself, “let’s not be obtuse.” kept replaying and replaying. Was it the headphone thing, it was just some dumb gag he did for fun. You even joked about it one time, you said you’d shove an air-pod up his nose. Was it the emails? Simon likes your attention, whether it be good or bad. He likes you, the way you look in your work outfits, he’s a grown man, he can appreciate when someone is good looking. Now he was really starting to tweak out.

Simon practically sprinted back to the office, you sat at one of the front desks, you looked up at him in the doorway. “Are you really quitting?” your eyes widen, “Simon hush!” you sputtered.

“Was it something I did,” he asks as he walks towards the desk, “Answer me truthfully.” he demands. “Oh jesus.” you put your head in your hands out of embarrassment. Simon's eyes are on you, you can feel them while you try and bury your head deeper into your palms. “I know you were pissed on monday-” he continues, “Simon leave it alone for fucks sake.” huffing you finally look at him. He nods and walks back into his office, shutting the door avoiding work all day, with you on his mind how could he not?

It’s Friday, you’re scheduled to be back at your desk. You walk into the office earlier as always, listening to your music, you notice Simon was sitting on your desk. Confused, you approach him and tap him on his shoulder, “Your ass is on my desk.” Simon hops off quickly, “Sorry.” you eye him suspiciously.

“I want to talk to you about yesterday.” you groan, “Simon leave it please. That’s all I ask.” you make praying hands pleading, “yesterday you said-”

“UGH Simon please.” you groan even louder than earlier, “you said “If you say yes would I make the process faster” so I am the reason you’re quitting?” you look at him with the most confused face ever. “Are you okay? Genuinely?”

“Are you quitting because of me?” Simon prodded, “I have to heat up my breakfast.” Soon as you went to walk to the break room, Simon grabbed your wrist softly, his brown eyes looking into yours,

“Answer me, is it my fault?”

(well, yes!)

#Supervisor!simon #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost simon riley #cod mw2 #task force 141 #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghost headcanons #ghost fanfiction #simon my beloved #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader

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reysdriver · 2 months

Text

Exit Stage Right | R.L

You and your daughter miss Remus while he's performing for a stadium of fans, so much that you have to see him before the concert is over — dad!rockstar!remus x mom!reader fluff

warnings: a little angsty if you squint rlly hard, but nothing else

words: 2.4k

a/n: I promised rockstar!remus a while ago, but I've been to 2 concerts in the last 2 weeks, which just so happens to be finals season, so I've been simultaneously busy as hell and itching to write this. I hope you like how it turned out!

Your daughter Olive was no stranger to loud noises.

Remus had a room to practise drumming in your house, it’s normal to encounter a chaotic mess of fans and paparazzi when you left the house as a family, and she just about had the loudest uncles in the world. Though you tried to limit the amount of noise she took in, Olive’s little ears had definitely adapted to her hectic little life.

But all that noise in her daily life was no match for a rock concert in a sold-out stadium. Those decibel levels would for sure be far too high for her little ears to handle.

It wasn’t as easy of a decision on what you should do with her tonight, though. You were getting cabin fever with all the identical hotel rooms you’ve been living in while The Marauders were on their tour, and you suspected Olive was in the same boat.

So, you decided to go back to the old days when the band first started going on long tours, when you would stay in the dressing room for the length of the performance. You and Remus figured it would be soundproof enough backstage, but you still insisted on pulling out the baby headphones you had bought just in case before she was even born. You were only planning on using them if it got especially loud backstage, yet you tried them on anyway.

They were massive on her, but they kept her safe and happy. Plus, she was pretty damn adorable with them on—not that she wasn’t all the time, but definitely cuter than normal with those giant headphones.

Waiting for the show to start, Remus bounced Olive on his lap while you watched the rest of the guys run through their current individual pre-show rituals.

It had been quite a while since you’ve been backstage with the band right before a show, and you honestly forgot how entertaining it was.

James was trying to solve the same Rubik’s cube he’s been working on for years to warm up his fingers, Peter was doing the daily crossword in the local newspaper, and Sirius was trying to multitask by doing his vocal warmups and his makeup at the same time.

It was really a terrible combination of tasks, as Sirius kept on messing up his eyeliner and then trying to suppress his favourite swear words for your daughter’s sake.

You wanted to tell him off, but it was really too fun to watch for you to intervene.

A minute or so after Sirius finally finished his look, the boys’ manager knocked on the dressing room door and reminded them that they have to go on stage soon.

Remus thanked him, and the guys all started getting ready to go. He kept Olive in his arms for as long as he could, until it was just the three of you in the room after everyone was already headed to the stage.

When he finally had to let her go, Remus made sure he gave you both a proper goodbye.

“I’ll be back soon. Just over 2 hours, then we can all go home.” He kissed you softly, but deeply. He always does this as a way of saying goodbye, kissing you like he might never do it again, but he doesn’t want you to think about it.

When his lips left yours and he slouched down to blow a raspberry on Olive’s tummy, you sighed quietly. “A hotel, not home.”

He looked at you sympathetically as he collected his drumsticks from the table beside you and stored them in his back pocket for the time being.

“Isn’t home anywhere where we’re all together?” He said, trying to lift your spirits. “But we’ll be home home soon enough. And I won’t be on tour again for a while, and we can be all together as much as we want.”

That did make you feel better. Even though you loved that Remus was living his dream with his best friends and giving you and Olive a great life, it did get stressful from time to time.

Privacy violations by paparazzi and media outlets, insecurity that sometimes got the best of you on both sides of the relationship, and of course, The Marauders going on world tours that were fun, but still somewhat torture. They made it so you had to choose between leaving home for months, or being away from Remus—not that there was any difference between those two.

You didn’t want to get emotional right when Remus had to go perform, so you smiled and reminded him that it was time for you to part ways for the evening.

“They’re waiting for you out there.”

A grin graced your husband’s face. “They can wait a little longer.”

“They paid to see you.” You reminded him.

“And I'll personally refund all of them if I don't go out.”

“Then we'll be out of money, and we'll both have to get new jobs and we'll never have any time with just the three of us.”

Remus pretended to think over your point for a second. “You’re right. I guess I have to go out and perform, then.”

“Put on a good show, honey. We'll see you soon.”

While saying goodbye to him, you raised Olive’s arm so you could wave at Remus for her as he walked out of the dressing room. Her face was already forming a pout when she watched her dad leave to go do his job, but you wouldn’t let that morph into anything more.

You turned her around so you could both look at each other, then you pressed a kiss to her chubby cheek.

“None of that, sweetheart. We’ll see him again in no time.”

Laying her down beside you on the couch, you reach down into the baby bag you never go anywhere without and pick out some of her favourite toys from their specific pocket; hopefully those will keep her distracted and happy.

◆◇◆◇◆

The toys didn’t work as well as you thought they would. They kept Olive busy for about an hour, but she seemed to snap out of her happy baby daze out of nowhere.

She started crying and nothing was working to calm her down. She wasn’t hungry, she didn’t need to be changed, and nothing you had brought for this very reason was working.

You knew the only thing that could quell her upset was outside and on the stage, playing drums for a stadium of fans. But even though she and Remus both wished they could spend all hours of the day together, you just didn’t know how that could work.

And then you remembered the headphones.

The sound backstage hadn’t been that loud at all while The Marauders were playing, so you honestly hadn’t thought about them since you and Remus packed them before you left the hotel.

But this could work. You could use them to help both you and Olive right now. So that’s what you did.

You dug through your bag and pulled the noise-cancelling headphones from the bottom of the bag, where they had sat untouched for the longest time. After picking them up with a tiny ‘aha’, you smiled at your daughter and told her that she would soon be seeing her dad.

She had calmed down somewhat due to the mere mention of Remus, but she was still wailing in your arms. You bounced her lightly while you walked down the halls of the stadium.

“It’s okay, honey.” You cooed at Olive, despite the fact that she couldn’t hear a thing. “You’re gonna tire yourself out and fall asleep before you even get to see Daddy. We don’t want that, do we?”

Although, maybe her crying herself to sleep wouldn’t be so bad.

It still wasn’t an option in your mind. Your daughter wanted to see her dad, so over to Remus you’ll go.

Once you got to the stage door, a burly security guard gave you a questioning look. You supposed he wasn’t used to a woman and a baby wanting to go into the wings during a rock concert. But he was just there to do his job, not judge, so he let you through when you showed him your ID.

You kept checking Olive’s face to see her expressions and gauge if everything was too loud for her. Her look didn’t deviate from the bothered expression her face took on when you started walking with her, so you assumed the headphones were cancelling out the noise, just as they were made for.

Nobody who was working backstage seemed to mind you being there, so you found an extra stool in a dark corner and pulled it so you could sit and watch the band.

Based just on how Olive was moving in your arms, you knew she had spotted her dad behind the cymbals he was smashing across the stage. Pointing towards Remus, you whispered to her again even though she couldn’t hear you. “Look! Who’s that? Who’s over there?”

She seemed to be cheered up enough just from seeing Remus, so your hypothesis was proven correct. Things were shaping up to be a good night.

You swayed and headbanged—as lightly as possible—since just because Olive couldn’t enjoy the loud music doesn’t mean you had to ignore it too.

The current song ended, and James was talking to the crowd while Sirius drank some much-needed water after all that singing. While taking a swig, the two familiar faces in the wings of the stage caught his eye, and he just had to share what he was seeing with the drummer.

He practically skipped over to Remus, who was also catching his breath from performing and pointed you out. Your husband’s eyes scanned the area until he found you, and his face immediately broke out into a smile—and so did your daughter’s.

Back in the dressing room, you were hesitant if you should leave at all or if you should just wait out Olive’s tantrum, but the matching looks on your husband and daughter’s faces right now was proof that you made the right decision.

Olive made grabby hands towards her dad across the stage, and Remus waved right back and blew a kiss in your direction. You weren’t quite sure if it was aimed at you or your little girl, but it made you blush either way.

He pointed to the setlist taped to the ground beside him and hid his hand behind his bass drum so the audience wouldn’t see his gesture; he held up three fingers to let you know there would be three more songs until he could get up and give you two his full attention. You knew they would most definitely be doing an encore after they finished, but at least they could all have a small break after the main show.

You nodded to show him you understood, but his attention was already grabbed back by James giving him the sign that it was time to get back into the music. Not even taking more than a second to prepare, Remus was back in the groove and started playing the next song on the list, effortlessly and perfectly.

The last few songs of the main set were some of your favourites from the band’s discography, but you had to admit that you couldn’t enjoy them as much as you usually would.

It was mainly because you were somewhat scared of an impending mood swing out of your daughter now that her father’s attention had left her, but also because these three songs were standing in between you and your husband like a brick wall right now. You just had to remind yourself that once they hit that last note and said their goodbyes to the crowd, that wall would be temporarily smashed once more.

But now, they were at the end of the concert. The crowd was cheering like they just had the best night of their lives—you don’t doubt that they did—and Remus was throwing his sticks into the sea of hands desperate for a morsel of The Marauders.

His rockstar persona was dropped the second those drumsticks left his hands, and he was rushing to the wings to be with you and Olive, a wide smile strung across his cheeks.

He pulled you two out into the hall so the crowd’s noise could be in the background. He knew they would be cheering for an encore in a minute; as much as he loved that sound, he would rather hear you.

“She was getting pretty fussy and I knew you were the only thing that would calm her down.” You explained to Remus before he could even ask.

You were afraid he would be upset with you bringing her outside of the dressing room, but he didn’t seem fazed at all. He gently took Olive from your arms and cooed over her.

“You missed me so much you dragged your mum out here so you could see me, huh?” Remus asked her. “You know I missed you too, princess. Both of you.”

“Yeah? Maybe you should get the guys to shorten the setlist so you aren’t away from us for too long, then.”

He didn’t respond, but you know that he had brought up the idea of shorter tours to the others now that he and James were both fathers.

You watched lovingly as Remus kept moving Olive’s hand away from the glitter on his face that she was so desirous to touch. You wished you all could stay in this moment forever, but the audience’s chants for an encore were getting louder and louder and you knew the scene in front of you couldn’t last much longer.

Right on schedule, James strutted up and tapped Remus on the shoulder with a brand new pair of drumsticks.

“We’ve gotta go back out there, mate. Time to part ways with your girls once again.”

Remus wouldn’t put up a fight. He handed Olive back to you and blew one more kiss at you two as a goodbye.

The doors opened and a cacophony of fan cheers hit your ears. It was a lot, but it just reminded you that all those people were waiting for your husband, so you could wait a few more minutes.

Just two final songs, then you could all go home.

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icycoldninja · 2 months

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Don't leave me (Sephiroth x Reader angst)

Summary: Sephiroth's abandonment issues get the better of him in the middle of the night, so he goes to you, seeking comfort.

---‐------------------------------------------------------------‐--------------Sleep was never easy for Sephiroth thanks to the shadows, voices, and eerie bits of music that often plagued his thoughts. His mind, when allowed to wander, was often like a bitter, wintery blizzard, with everything swirling around in one, massive, confusing, mental storm. In order to keep the storm from growing too large, Sephiroth often kept busy throughout the day, focusing his mind on productive, stimulating activities such as exercising, scheming in his office, or tracking down Cloud and his accomplices.

However, at nighttime, when his brain was exhausted and craved sleep, such activities were very difficult to complete, therefore, he turned to more ordinary practices of keeping his mind occupied, which, unsurprisingly, did not work. Math problems were easy for him, as were crossword puzzles, spot the difference games, hidden object puzzles, etc. Sephiroth could work through an entire high-school math textbook in under 2 hours and say it was "child's play". This level of genius was purely astonishing, and also maddening, as his troubled thoughts, of which there were plenty, were also very disruptive.

Sighing, the man rolled over in his bed and draped his heavy, fluffy wing over his face like most humans would with a pillow. Why couldn't he sleep?! What would it take for his goddamn brain to shut off and let him rest already?! He was so tired, he could feel his eyeballs ache, but he just couldn't rest. Why?

The swirling storm in Sephiroth's head raged on; he closed his eyes and gripped his pillow tightly, trying desperately to remember what falling asleep felt like so he could ascertain whether or not he was making progress.

Several more minutes passed, and Sephiroth felt his brain fog over. He relaxed completely, willing his consciousness to slip into darkness and finally, finally, allow him to rest. He expected to plunge into fuzzy nothingness, but was instead met with a cold, dark, empty void.

All around him, he could hear laughter. Deranged laughter; laughter he'd heard almost all day of every day during his childhood. How he hated that laugh. Sephiroth turned around, only to find that same man standing before him in the familiar, pristine lab coat that he knew so well.

Hojo.

He was glad he couldn't speak; to utter his name aloud would have stained and corrupted his tongue. He glared at the man with contempt, wishing he would just leave already. He'd seen enough of that cruel bastard, he didn't need to see any more. Hojo smiled at him, his thin lips twisting into a devious smirk. Looking at it made Sephiroth's blood boil. Where was Masamune? Now would be a perfect time to use it.

Hojo's smile slowly faded, his expression turning from evil glee to disgust. He was regarding Sephiroth with disgust. How dare he?! Sephiroth watched as he turned around and walked away, shaking his head. Good riddance, he thought. He never wanted to look at scum like Hojo anyway. Turning around once again, Sephiroth came face to face with a being he never expected to see in a place like this. His own, beloved mother: Jenova.

Now Sephiroth was beginning to wish he could speak. He wanted to tell his mother how glad he was to see her here, how much he loved her, how thankful he was to her for his mere existence. He tried to reach out to touch her, but she recoiled, frowning in repulsion. What was wrong? What did he do to make her feel this way? Sephiroth was at a complete loss; all he ever did was for his mother, so why wasn't she embracing him? Why....why didn't she love him?

Panicking slightly, Sephiroth extended his hands in her direction once again, but Jenova stepped back. Shaking her head at him, just as Hojo had done, the entity whom Sephiroth had dedicated nearly everything he did to turned her back on him.

Now he was scared. The darkness was more than just that; it was an all-consuming maw mace of his own twisted, fearful thoughts. He didn't want this; he hated being alone like this. Why did everyone leave? What did he do wrong?

The stormy void closed in around Sephiroth, surrounding him in a cloud of fear. He didn't like this, he didn't want to sleep anymore, he wanted to wake up!

And he did, springing upright in a cold sweat, panting heavily. His wing flapped loudly against the bed, shedding feathers everywhere. He looked around and saw he was the only person in the room, this notion terrifying him even further. In a fit of frenzied hysteria, Sephiroth flung the covers aside and stumbled out of his room, not caring that he was bashing various body parts against the door trim. He ended up in the living room, where you were still awake, working on the couch. As soon as he appeared in the darkened room, you stopped what you were doing and turned to him, confused. His legs, clad only in pajama shorts, were visibly and violently trembling; an unusual occurrence.

"Seph?" You asked, standing up and walking towards him. "Are you alright?" He shook his head, nearly collapsing into your arms. You cradled him for a while, pressing soft kisses to his cheek, waiting patiently to see if he would explain the reasons for his distress. After a few moments, he began to sob.

"Don't leave me," He croaked, clinging onto you tightly. "Don't leave me too...." You sighed softly, before taking hid head into your hands and kissing him.

"I'm not leaving you, ever," You told him, running your hands through his long, silky locks. "I'm gonna be here forever. Don't be afraid." Sephiroth nodded, then sniffled and wiped his tears away. "Come on," You said, taking him by the hand and leading him back to his bedroom. "I'll stay with you tonight."

Needless to say, Sephiroth fell asleep easier than ever that night; the comfort of your presence, and the knowledge that you would never leave him lulling him into peaceful slumber.

#Ffvii #Ff7 #Final fantasy 7 #final fantasy vii #Sephiroth #Fvii sephiroth #Ff7 sephiroth #Final fantasy 7 sephiroth #final fantasy vii sephiroth #Sephiroth x reader #Fvii sephiroth x reader #Fanfic #Angst #abandoment issues #Sephiroth x reader angst #Angst fanfic #icycoldninja writes

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 18 days

Text

the girl next door 7

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

Your body is stiff. You blame your late-night drawing session hunched over the folding table. You feel it in your neck and shoulder. You sit up and groan, rubbing your muscles as you try to loosen the knots. You roll your arms as you stand up, yawning as you rub your eyes.

A dewy breeze flows in. The air feels like rain but the density has yet to break. You remember vaguely in the middle of the night cracking the window to cool off, your room stagnant and stale.

You near the window in your baggy shirt, dampened slightly with your sweat. It’s caught under your chest as you bulge against the fabric. You pull it free as you stand in front of the pane and blanch as you see movement on the other side. Shoot.

Your eyes meet Steve’s as he closes the window across from yours. He can feel the approaching storm too. He smiles and gives a two-fingered wave. You lift your hand weakly, barely extending your fingers before you tug shut the curtains. How much did he see? How much could he see?

You go out to get the day started. The overhead light of kitchen blares yellow across the space and you put the coffee pot on to brew. As you wait, you tidy the table, once more cluttered with your mother’s forgotten distractions. The crossword book, several pens, a home magazine, and several wrappers.

You slow the pour of coffee into your mug as you hear your mom’s bedroom door. You stare at the doorway until she appears. She limps to the table and sits heavily. You put the cup before her and grab another for yourself. She mutters and leans her head in her hand. She was home late last night.

You go to grab her inhaler from the bathroom. Once more, it’s missing. You return and find it on the counter hidden beside a used plate. It's only then you notice the blackened frozen fries on the cookie sheet. What the heck?

“Ugh, that man,” she croaks, letting it roll into a laugh, “he convinced me to have a little wine after the milkshake.” You put her inhaler in front of her. She raises her head and scowls. She rubs the furrow between her brows. “And then another. And another.”

You don’t even remember her getting home. You were up until one in the morning drawing. She must have been much later. How hadn’t you heard her make all this mess?

You sip your coffee around cleaning up. You wash the glass from the milkshake Steve brought over and set it aside. Your mother hacks and clears her throat.

“Mm, he’s too nice,” she mutters, “told him you didn’t need that. Too much sugar. You don’t even like strawberry.”

You hide your frown. You like strawberry. You’re not sure why she thinks otherwise. She’s never really asked.

“I’ll bring the glass back--”

“You remember your manners,” she girds before she hums into her coffee cup. She gulps through her wet lips noisily. “I don’t need you ruining this.”

“I will, mom.”

“Ugh,” she stands up with a groan, “I need my chair.”

Her hand trembles and the cup with it. She spills a little over the sides but doesn’t pay attention to it. You dump the tray of burnt fries and put it in the sink. You just cleaned this place top to bottom. You don’t think you’re that messy but it’s always a disaster.

You clean the rest of the dishes and put them away. Your mom hollers for more coffee and you bring the pot with you to refill her cup. She leans it on her chest and closes her eyes.

“I’m going to take the glass back now, I guess.”

“Mph, do whatever,” she utters irritably.

You trod back to your room and change into real clothes; straight-legged jeans and a stripped jersey tee. You just want to get this over with. It’s so awkward. You would rather your mom just take it back the next time she goes over but she’s in rough shape. It must be the alcohol. She’s not really supposed to have any.

You grab the glass and put on your shoes. As you come out, there’s a speckling of rain falling from the sky. You go up the walk and around the sidewalk, coming back down the pavement squares to Steve’s porch. You stop and look up at his front door. You climb the steps and drag your feet to the door.

You tap the bell. It’s one of those ones with the camera built-in. You feel overly conscious as you stand before the lens. The door opens before you can prepare yourself.

“Hey, sweetie,” Steve greets, “how are you?”

“Erm. Okay. Here.”

You hold out the glass. He doesn’t take it. He leans on the doorframe and smile.

“Crummy day, huh? Supposed to thunderstorm soon,” he comments, “too bad, I was really wanting to get that pool going.”

“Mm, yeah,” you keep the glass raised before you.

“Oh well, guess I’ll have to figure out what to do all pent up. Maybe a movie night? With all this moving, I’m way behind.”

You look at his chest, staring at the short-sleeved button up with chagrin. What is he talking about? Why is he talking so much?

“You got any suggestions? You youngins always know what’s hip,” he shakes his head and laughs, “sorry, I sound old, don’t I?”

“No,” you answer dully.

“No what? No suggestions or no I don’t sound old?” He challenges.

Your eyes go round and you look him in the face. “I don’t know.”

“I’m teasing--”

“Here,” you wiggle the glass at him.

He takes it, his fingers brushing against yours. You let it go and recoil. You bare your teeth strangely and back away, “thanks, er. Bye.”

You turn and cringe at the grey sky. You trudge off the porch and cut across the lawn, too mortified not to trod over his grass. You clamber up the front steps and quickly shut yourself inside the house. You hiss at yourself as you press your back to the door.

“Don’t slam the goddamn door,” your mother sneers, “Jesus. No wonder this place is falling apart.”

🏠

It’s one of those days where you’re just sad. You can’t pinpoint why. It’s just a vague malaise that won’t leave. Even as the sun beams and deepens to a soft evening hue, you can’t see a light among the dark.

You don’t know how long you’ve been like that. Under your covers, crying for no good reason. It just hurts to be. You keep your arm folded over your pounding head. You just want to sleep and yet you can’t cross the barrier into unconscious.

You give up and roll onto your back, pulling the blanket to your waist. You exhale and stare up at the ceiling. You’re head swims from the deluge of tears. You sop them up with the sheet and sit up. Your head is full and throbbing.

You get up, bleary-eyed, and muddle your way through reality. You pull open your door and find the bathroom on instinct alone. You shut yourself in and blow your nose. The effort has you even more dizzy. You shake your head, trying to clear out the fog, and turn on the cold water. You throw it across your face, holding a wet palm to your forehead to try to ease the tension.

Your ears tickle with a strange noise. A low drone. Like bass on the front television. Now and again, your mom will amp up the TV but it’s unexpectedly loud. You twist off the faucet and stand straight. You dry off and head back into the hall, peering down at the shifting light glaring from the living room doorway.

“Woahhh,” the voice catches you unaware as someone collides with you from behind in the dim hallway. You stumble and turn to face Steve as popcorn scatters onto the floor, tumbling over the brim of the bowl. The smell tugs at your stomach, “sorry sweetie, I didn’t see you there.”

You look at his silhouette, unable to make out any of his features. You didn’t even know he was there. Your mother didn’t even warn you. You suspect that may have been purposeful.

“Sweetie?”

“Sorry,” you back up, “didn’t mean... to get in the way.”

You turn and shuffle back to your room. He follows, “your mom said you weren’t feeling good. Hope you get better soon, but if you’re interested, we’re watching a movie.”

Your bedroom door is wide open. If you’d known, you would’ve been sure to shut it tight.

“No, thank you,” you grab the handle and slowly shift the door behind you.

“No problem,” he calls after you, “offer stands if you change your mind.”

You click the door shut gently and stay on the other side, listening for his footsteps. He lingers, a bit too long, and it’s only as he walks away that you go back to your bed. There’s something strange about him. Or maybe it’s just you.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #drabble #series #the girl next door #au #silverfox au #mcu #marvel #captain america

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heich0e · 15 days

Text

"hey."

the bed beside you dips a little as touya nears, crawling under the blankets on his side, but you don't look up from the puzzle book in your hands—you're just about to finish your crossword, and your brain is already feeling sluggish as you fight the call to sleep. instead you hum, so that he knows you heard him.

"are you... have you...." he can't seem to get the words right, and grunts a bit, like he's frustrated with himself. "you worried about aoi?"

that makes you look up.

"no," you reply to him, eyes scanning over his face. "should i be?"

your three year old daughter aoi is the picture of health—or at least, as healthy as children can really be, considering they seem to be magnetic poles towards which germs naturally gravitate. she's a bit bossy, in spite of her age, and has her older brother and papa (and you for that matter) wrapped around her little fingers. but she's a good girl, mostly kind, and exceedingly bright for her age.

you don't have any reason to worry about her.

at least you don't think you do.

at your side, touya's face is lined with frustration; a furrow creasing the centre of his brow, and his lips turned down into a pensive little frown. he has a book in his hands, you notice. his thumb is stuck between the pages as if to mark his place, but you can't see the cover from the way he's holding it.

"touya?" you prod him for more information, setting your own puzzle book aside.

"she sucks her thumb," touya finally says, though he seems reluctant to share that worry with you. when he finally meets your gaze, you see anxiety swimming behind his eyes. "is that normal?"

you laugh lightly in relief, your head hanging slightly as any real fear in you retreats. "yeah, touya. that's normal."

"are you sure?" he insists, "because this book says that kids suck their thumbs to comfort themselves. why would she need comfort?" he holds up the book in his hand, and when he does, you see that it's a parenting book. you've never seen it before, so he must have bought it recently. the image of touya scouring the shelves at your local bookstore for the right title in the childrearing section is remarkably endearing to conjure to mind.

"touya, baby," you push yourself up on your side of the bed, crawling over to him. you ensconce yourself atop his lap, taking his face in your hands. you meet him nose to nose. "put the book down."

"but it says—"

"i know what it says," you don't let him finish. "and it's probably right—kids do lots of things to comfort themselves, and they do need comfort. and maybe thumb sucking well into your developmental years is even bad for you, but aoi is only three. she's still so little. it's perfectly normal for her to suck her thumb occasionally."

touya seems to soften a bit in the wake of your reassurances, but not relax entirely. he leans his face into the cup of your palm, letting you bear the weight.

"look, if it continues on for too long, or gets worse, then we'll talk to the paediatrician. and we'll talk to aoi, too—because if something is bothering her, we'll make sure she knows she can always tell us. but right now, she is just a perfectly normal, happy three year old, who just happens to enjoy sucking her thumb. okay?"

touya's eyes flutter shut, and after a quiet moment you lean forward press a kiss to the spot where a divot of frustration had earlier creased his brow.

"we're doing a good job, touya," you reassure him, brushing some strands of his soft white hair back from his tired face. "you especially."

not a perfect job, because the longer you trek along the path of parenthood, the more you've come to realize it's a fallacy. you know there's no such thing as a perfect parent. you know no one gets it right one hundred percent of the time. but there are lots of parent who are doing their best—who are trying to be better—and you know that you'd be hard-pressed to find someone who's trying harder to do just that than touya.

touya's eyes open once more. the eyes both your children inherited. the blue you named your daughter after. his gaze is soft—vulnerable in ways that once seemed impossible with the man in front of you—as he peers up at you.

"you think so?" he mumbles softly.

"i do," you answer just as gently as he'd asked, before dipping down to kiss him properly this time—not on his forehead but at the centre of his lips.

touya's hands reach for you eagerly, reciprocating your kiss with an equal enthusiasm, and the parenting book slips from his grip and goes tumbling to the floor with a thud!

both of you freeze, pulling apart from your passionate embrace until your lips rest a hairsbreadth away. your breaths are panting. your heartbeats are thundering in your chests. both of your gazes are fixed firmly on your bedroom door.

neither of you move.

"do you think it woke them up?" he whispers after a terrified moment, his tone heavy with anxiety.

"no, i think we're okay," you answer, your voice equally strained.

but still, neither of you dare to move again, still petrified in place, waiting to hear the telltale pitter patter of little feet along the floor.

after a few more tense beats of silence stretch between you in the stillness of your bedroom, a laugh bubbles up from the pit of your stomach and slips through your lips in spite of your best efforts to restrain it. poised frozen halfway up the back of your shirt, touya's hands pull you a little closer, and he chuckles quietly too. you tilt your lips down to meet his again, giggling into the kiss as touya uses his grip on you to reverse your positions and pin you down to the bed underneath him.

"try to be quieter this time," you chirp up at him breathlessly as his hands travel down your body, but you're smiling too widely for the jibe to have any real bite at all. touya rolls his eyes as he dips down into your space, his lips ghosting over yours again in an almost-but-not-quite sort of kiss.

"i'll do my best," he mumbles.

(but you already knew that.)

#touya x reader #papa touya #todoroki touya x reader #bnha drabble #bnha writing #writing

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cl3fairyyy · 3 months

Text

˗ˏˋ routine // edward nashton x GN! reader ˎˊ˗

summary // edward has always gone through life in solitude. he has the same routine, day in and day out, and he doesn't change that for anyone. he doesn't have time for friendship and looks down on his coworkers; their shallow gossip and strained smalltalk isn't worth his time. his way of thinking is soon flipped on its head when KTMJ hires a pretty receptionist to greet him every morning before work. what starts as innocent pining (as innocent as it gets for edward, anyway), soon spirals into something more, faster than he can control. alternatively, you score a cushy receptionist gig and start crushing on your cute coworker lol.

warnings // very brief mention of healed sh scars. edward and the reader smoke- reader is GN but is described as "pretty" multiple times. eddie is a little strange in this but that is just customary for him atp lol. a little angsty but mostly fluffy coworkers to more bc eddie deserves more soft fics :c no use of y/n!!

word count // 4.5k

notes // I haven't written a fic since my wattpad days so my apologies if this isn't great </3 I have been pining after the green man for far too long and have so many ideas in my system that need to come out !! I hope Edward isn't too OOC and would love any feedback on how to write him better :)) I might do a pt 2 if anyone is interested hehe

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Edward has never found any substance in socialising at work. He has never found the tedious break room small talk and uninteresting (probably fabricated) gossip that floats around the office to be very meaningful, and for the five years that he has worked at KTMJ, he has never had so much as a conversation, let alone friendship, with any of his colleagues.

His daily routine is fairly simple: wake up, go to work, come home, eat (if he remembers), and sleep. All without interacting with anyone. Edward lies to himself, convinces himself that he prefers, even enjoys, living like this. He has crawled through this city, through this life, in solitude, and he has always been fine.

But the ache in his heart and the lump in his throat when he lies awake at night, running calloused fingers over faded scars, say otherwise.

Edward is lonely.

His mind tends to wander when he turns in bed to look out the window. He watches groups of friends, drunk and stumbling down the old, cracked streets of Gotham, their rapturous (and rather obnoxious, he thinks) laughter echoing through his open apartment window. He imagines himself drunkenly walking alongside them, sharing inside jokes and funny anecdotes that make their cheeks red with laughter, and when he drifts off to sleep, he dreams of waking up in another body, another life, where he simply belongs.

He wakes up on a day like any other, in his cold, empty apartment, alone. He begins his routine, shoving a piece of expired bread in the toaster as he neatens his tie and pulls on his loafers. He is happy with this routine. He eats alone at the table, checking his watch, mindful of the 8:15 bus. He leaves his apartment and catches the bus just as it arrives at his stop. The driver, an older lady, offers him a smile. He keeps his head down. He is happy with this routine. He enters the office earlier than usual, hoping to get in some extra work to avoid staying any later than he must. He is happy with-

He pauses.

The receptionist, a woman far too old to not be retired, does not greet him with the flick of her pen as she completes the morning crossword.

The routine is disrupted.

His coworkers are crowded around his boss' door, straining to see through the tiny window separating "us" from "them." Edward's mind is clouded with confusion as he catches the eye of one of his colleagues, a man named Will, a man he can't stand, a man who acquired his position (as Edward's supervisor) straight out of college, through daddy's money and connections.

The routine is disrupted.

"Word is that we have a new receptionist." He fills Edward in. Edward wonders if he only tells him this through some feeling of obligation, rather than wanting to share the latest office gossip with him. He simply nods, making his way to his desk.

Back to the routine.

After possibly the most intimidating introduction to a boss you have ever experienced, you are given a brief tour of your new office and shown to your new desk. You are given your new tasks and set to work on your new job.

To be honest, it isn't entirely difficult. You are certainly overqualified, but you can't complain about being paid above minimum wage, in Gotham, in your twenties, for such a simple job. You remember reading that the best way to make a good first impression at a new job is to introduce yourself to your new colleagues, and, despite the anxiety welling in your throat, you put on a bright smile and set off to do just that.

For the most part, your colleagues are nice, a bit bored, but they seem interested in you and that surely must be a start, right?

The girl whose desk you're currently standing in front of (her name is Kate, you think?) perks up suddenly, seemingly remembering something. She gestures for you to sit next to her, and you do just that.

"You seem nice. Like, really nice. But you seem like the kind of person who is so nice that it borders on naiveté." You tilt your head in confusion but nod for her to continue. "I want you to, y'know, actually have a chance of fitting in here. So let me give you some advice."

She glances around inconspicuously before lowering her voice and tilting her head back ever so subtly. "That guy over there. Glasses. Yeah- okay, try not to make it so obvious that I'm talking about him. Don't bother trying to get a word out of him. The guy doesn't talk to anyone, and believe me, we have tried getting him to. I don't know if he's shy or thinks he's better than us or what, but he seriously is, like, mute. All he does is come to work and go home. He even eats his lunch at his desk."

You try and mimic her subtlety, glancing up to catch a glimpse at the desk tucked neatly in the corner, and you're met with eyes behind glasses staring right back at you. You quickly look away, your cheeks burning at the embarrassment of being caught talking about someone.

She smiles sympathetically at you.

"I know this schtick you've got going on. Introducing yourself to the office so that we all like you."

She snorts at your expression and continues.

"Hey, chill out. It's seriously endearing. I was the exact same when I started and, to be fair, it seems to be working for you. I just don't want you to get offended or anything trying to talk to Edward over there, and getting nothing out of him, y'know?"

You offer Kate a grateful smile and rise from your seat.

"Thanks for the warning. I think I'd like to at least say hi to him anyway."

All she offers you is a shrug, as if saying, "don't say I didn't warn you," as you wander over to Edward's desk.

You smile at him, introducing yourself and holding out your hand to shake. Okay, he's actually pretty cute up close, you think, with big green eyes concealed by glasses that have slipped slightly down his faintly freckled nose. He meets your enthusiasm with a blank stare and a readjustment of his glasses, and your shoulders deflate a little.

"You're, uh, you're Edward, right? That's what it says on your name tag, anyway."

Silence.

You giggle nervously.

"Well, I- anyway, I'm the new receptionist. I'm really happy to be working with you."

You're surprised at the sincerity in your tone, and Edward must be too, because you swear you notice his stoic expression falter for a second.

Your hand begins to shake as it remains in front of his face, and the air grows thick with awkwardness. It feels like every single pair of eyes in the office is on the both of you. You begin to retract your hand when Edward gingerly reaches forward and shakes it limply. His bored expression doesn't change as he does so.

"Likewise."

With that single word uttered, he carries on typing away at his computer, completely ignoring you. Your legs seem to work at their own volition as they carry you back to your desk, your cheeks pink.

Unbeknownst to you, Edward has been observing your every move since you stepped out of the boss' office. His desk is at the perfect angle, giving him a direct view of your own, and he had watched you approach all of your colleagues to give your little introduction speech. He had seen you chatting discreetly with Kate, and he had caught you peeking up to look at him. He had figured Kate had warned you to steer clear of him, and the thought had made his stomach sink.

He thought you were very pretty, and since he had first caught a passing glimpse of you, his mind instantly had began to wander to thoughts of him approaching your desk, introducing himself confidently and charming you all within your first interaction.

He had shaken his head at that, embarrassed by his little fantasy. He has never known the feeling of confidence in his life, and he had quickly resigned himself to thinking that you would be yet another coworker he would never interact with, besides a quick "good morning," and "good night," at the beginning and end of each day.

The routine continues, and he is happy with that.

The routine continues until it doesn't, until you meekly approach his desk and smile at him, and oh God up close you are so much prettier, he thinks, and then you're extending your hand for him to shake, that same dimpled smile on your face fading when he doesn't even acknowledge the action.

Of course he manages to make you uncomfortable within the first five seconds of interacting with him. Before his mind can catch up with his body, he is shaking your hand and uttering the first word he has spoken in this office in a long time.

He instantly has to break the intense eye contact he has held with you, pretending to type numbers into his computer, praying the colour of his cheeks doesn't betray him.

When you walk away he feels guilty, he wishes he could will you back to his desk so he could play off his awkwardness as a joke, so he could pretend he is someone much cooler and much more interesting than Edward Nashton.

But he can't.

He has to watch you walk away, back to your desk, your head down to hide your embarrassment.

When 5pm hits, you stand from your desk, stretching. God, that spinny chair does something awful for your back. You're packing up your things when Edward passes your desk. You offer him a smile as you wish him goodnight, fully expecting him to ignore you.

Instead, he pauses and turns to give you a small nod before exiting the building and all of a sudden it feels like your face is on fire and your heart is pounding like you've just ran a marathon.

Oh no.

Of course you get a crush on your first day, and of course it has to be on the one person in the building that has uttered one singular word to you.

You lie awake that night, tossing and turning in bed as thoughts of your colleague cloud your mind. Sure, you've always had a thing for nerdy guys, but nerdy guys who have a reputation around your office for being a complete recluse? Seriously?

But he had spoken to you, he had acknowledged your existence. So what the hell does that mean? You sigh, rubbing your eyes before popping a melatonin. Your mind is racing a thousand miles a minute and you know there is no way you're getting to sleep otherwise.

Edward's mind swarms with thoughts of you as he lies in bed, willing himself to fall asleep. He picks up his phone, reading the time, and sighs, opening up your social media page for seemingly the thousandth time that night.

He has already scrolled through your entire account, has already studied every single photo and video you have posted until he has them memorised. He swipes through pictures of you at bars with your friends, videos of you dancing on vacation with tan lines and pink cheeks, and the countless selfies you have with your dog on your page.

He imagines you introducing him to your friend group and him befriending them over drinks in your favourite bar. He imagines taking you away on lavish trips to Europe, Asia, South America, all the places you have on the bucket list posted on your profile. He imagines a domestic life built together, sharing an apartment with you and your dog, and he falls asleep with an unfamiliar warmth in his chest, hope rushing through his veins for the first time in a long time.

Over the next few months, you grow closer with your colleagues- close to the point that you even see them outside of office hours. Close to the point that, when deadlines are met and the entire office throws a party to celebrate, Kate always manages to convince you to tag along. Close to the point that, after a long week, you and the small circle of friends you have made go out for drinks to unwind- and you have even found yourself inviting your other coworkers to join you.

All of your coworkers, except one.

The guilt consumes you every time you pack up to leave, smiling and laughing with your colleagues, when you catch a glimpse of Edward hunched over his monitor, ready to log even more hours of overtime. You have always considered inviting him along, but the only words he ever utters to you are quiet greetings every morning and the occasional "good night," when he leaves the office before you do. You don't even know if he likes you.

You certainly like him.

You're sure the blush on your face is undeniable every time you accidentally lock eyes with him when you swivel absentmindedly in your chair, or when you hand him his mail (which is rare for him to receive, you've noticed). You always try and find excuses to talk to him, and every time you do, you're left stumbling over your words and pink in the cheeks while he remains completely unfazed, unbothered and silent.

You're determined to at least invite him for drinks. At any rate, if he says no, you can comfort yourself with the knowledge that you tried to develop some kind of friendship with him (while secretly hoping for more).

It is such an easy task, one you have discussed frequently with your coworkers many a time, who have repeatedly encouraged you to offer an invitation to Edward- so you don't understand why it feels like lead weights have been tied to your feet and sandpaper has dried out your mouth when you mentally prepare yourself to go and speak to the infamous office recluse. 'It's no big deal! It's just drinks with colleagues!' you remind yourself, but the rapid beating of your heart does nothing to comfort you.

You finally internally berate yourself enough to stand up and, as casually as you can, wander over to Edward's desk, a friendly smile on your face. Your shadow over his desk forces him to acknowledge you.

You clear your throat somewhat awkwardly before saying with as much (casual) enthusiasm as you can muster, "me and some of the others are gonna head out for drinks pretty soon. We'd love for you to come!"

You notice his eyes subtly squint behind his glasses as he sizes you up, before shaking his head, his gaze flickering back down to his monitor.

"Can't. Got some messy paperwork here that needs correcting, and it can't wait until Monday."

Your smile falters slightly and you manage to nod in understanding. "That sucks. We would've really liked you there. I wouldn't want it to eat up too much of your evening, so I won't keep you from it. Have a nice weekend, Edward!"

His head lifts at your mention of his name, and when you smile at him, turning to leave, he clears his throat. quietly

"I'm, ah, I'm sorry about that. Maybe some other time..."

You nod in agreement, giving him one last smile before heading out with your colleagues. Oh well. At least you tried.

Edward screams at himself internally for being stupid enough to turn you down, for having so much work on his plate that he has to reject an offer to spend time with you. His logic tries to argue with him that you are just a distraction from his greater plans, but for the first time in his life, he finds himself listening to his heart rather than his head.

The routine is disrupted.

The following Monday, instead of clocking in at 8:30am, Edward finds himself in the office at 7:45 that morning to begin his work day. When you enter the building (earlier than usual, he notes), you manage to shake off the shock of seeing anyone else here at this time, and give Edward a little wave.

You sigh as you sink into your chair, lazily replying to the emails that have piled up over the weekend. While this cushy job has its benefits, God, the actual work is boring.

You catch yourself repeatedly turning subtly in your chair to watch Edward work. Even though he's so far away, you recognise that concentrated look he has on his face when a particularly messy set of fraudulent taxes have him stumped. Before you can register what you're doing, you're walking across the empty office right up to his desk and Jesus, your hands are sweaty as hell.

You manage to discreetly wipe them on your slacks before he looks up at you, his stressed expression all the greeting you need to begin talking. "I know we usually say good morning at my desk, but you were clocked in even earlier than me this morning." Your sentence ends with an anxious giggle, and when he narrows his eyes in confusion, you continue. "I, um, couldn't help but notice that you looked a little stressed... can I get you something to help? Water, coffee, anything? I'm all finished catching up on my emails so..."

You trail off a little awkwardly and you swear you see Edward's lip quirk up in a tiny smile before returning to his usual poker face. You mentally slap yourself for expecting to get anything out of him; it's not even 9am and you've already annoyed him. Great.

"If it's really no bother... I take my coffee black, one sugar. Thank you."

He says the last part quietly, looking down. You smile, and head for the break room to get his drink, your hands shaking giddily. You have somehow gotten more words out of him in five months than any of your colleagues have in five years. You see that as a win.

Edward sees it as the complete opposite. His brain is in chaos trying to focus on work but constantly wandering back to new daydreams of you. Daydreams of living together in your shared apartment, where you make him coffee every morning and bring it to him in bed. He can't help admiring you from afar, the way your well (tight) fitting slacks cling to you in the best way, and he has to physically rest his head on his desk to remind himself of where he is before his thoughts get too carried away.

You place the styrofoam cup down in front of Edward and he nods gratefully. You take a sip from your own cup, watching him work, before you realise you're being weird, still lingering around his desk like some creep. You cough awkwardly. "I'm, uh, going to go sit back down now, let you get back to it. I hope the coffee isn't too gross."

It's perfect, Edward thinks as he watches you wander back to your desk, and well after 5pm, when everyone has left, he fishes through the trash can uncer your desk and retrieves your styrofoam cup from that morning, placing it in a ziplock bag and taking it home with him.

This is Edward's new routine. He comes into work early every day and sits in the empty office, doing as much work as he can so that he can muster up the courage to one day, finally join you after work instead of being swamped with tasks. For weeks, every Friday, you invite him to come drink with your little group, and every Friday he finds some flimsy excuse to flake on you, anxiety tightening his throat and dampening his forehead.

You begin thinking you must be bothering him- he hasn't once accepted your invitation, and you tell yourself after each awkward encounter, 'this is the last time.' Yet, each week, you find yourself stood at his desk, legs trembling and mouth dry, anticipating rejection.

Until, one Friday in late February, he gives you an awkward smile, shuffling the mess of papers on his desk.

"I, ah, managed to wrap up these returns... I'll come along, if you want me to."

You can barely believe your ears, and your shock must be evident because Edward begins to flush under your gaze. You clear your throat, a bright smile on your face as you bounce on the balls of your feet. "Oh, that's great! We're ready to leave when you are."

Your small group bursts out of the office, your noses red from the February chill. You notice Edward lagging behind a little, and slow your pace to walk alongside him.

"I'm really glad you took us up on our offer finally. We found this sweet little hole in the wall bar only a little way from here, and happy hour lasts until 9 on Fridays." You grin at him. "I know I don't know much about you, but I really think you'll like it. The vibes are super chill, and they play some decent music. You like The Cure, right?"

Edward tilts his head curiously, and you flush as you scramble to explain yourself, so you don’t come off as an actual stalker.

"I, just, um... I could hear you listening to them last week when I came into work early."

He smiles, and the sincerity of it makes your knees go wobbly.

"Yeah, hah, I- um- listened to them a lot when I was young. I guess I never really grew out of it." He chuckles nervously, fiddling with the strap of his work bag.

You find a booth in the corner, and your group crams in, sharing the latest office gossip and complaining about how heavy the workload has been recently. You find yourself sat next to Edward and you smile at him as you settle back into the cracked vinyl of the booth, sipping your drink.

"I can't imagine coming into a bar and ordering water after how much you've worked this week. How are you not halfway through a bottle of whiskey right now?" You laugh lightly, beginning to feel pleasantly buzzed. Edward readjusts his glasses and thanks God that the red LED lights hide his pink cheeks. "I'm not really a big drinker... I prefer to be in control of my actions." He pauses, eyeing you clutching your drink in his peripheral vision, before clearing his throat. "N- not that there's anything wrong with drinking. I just, uh, have never really been a fan. I don't think it tastes very nice."

You giggle, slapping his arm lightly. "You don't need to explain yourself to me, Edward. I was only kidding."

After an hour or two, and a few more cocktails, the bar begins to liven up a little. Most of your friends have gotten up to dance, but you ignore them, deep in conversation with Edward about Gotham's current political climate.

"I thought I was the only one! Seriously, that shitbag of a mayor gets nowhere near enough criticism. They're corrupt, the lot of them, and I can only hope they get what's coming to-"

You pause, realising Edward is distracted. He fidgets with the sleeve of his jacket while rapidly bouncing his knee up and down, and you notice him cringing at the volume of the music.

You lean forward, resting a hand on his arm, your voice quiet as you whisper in his ear, "wanna go for a smoke?"

Your voice is a lovely contrast to the music blaring from the speaker, Edward thinks, and he can smell your perfume with you in such close proximity. It's sweet and flowery, and he wishes he could have you this close to him forever.

He nods, quickly standing and leading you out of the packed bar. The cold air hits you like a slap in the face as you make your exit, and you immediately regret leaving your jacket on your seat as you hug yourself, trying to stay warm under the broken heat lamps.

Edward fishes a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and holds it out to you. You smile gratefully, plucking one from the box and holding it between your teeth. Your freezing hands tremble, fumbling the lighter in your hands, and you groan in frustration as the wind keeps blowing the flame out. Edward watches you from the corner of his eye and chuckles lightly, a newfound wave of confidence surging through him.

"Want a hand?"

You sigh, shutting your eyes and nodding in defeat. Edward laughs again, and it is a lovely sound; his laugh has an almost falsetto quality to it, and you can't help but smile back at him, your cheeks warm.

Edward takes the lighter from you, his other hand reaching to cup over your own, protecting your lips from the biting wind as he lights your cigarette for you.

It is such a simple action. 'There's nothing behind it!' you think, but it holds such an undeniable sense of intimacy. His warm hand lingers on yours, warming your entire body, and he doesn't break your gaze when he finally pulls away to light his own cigarette.

The two of you stand in silence for several moments, watching the smoke you breathe out dance into the night sky, disappearing from view. You feel so relaxed around him, and you turn your head to watch him study the night sky, his eyes darting this way and that before landing on you. He smiles shyly.

"I had a nice time tonight. I... honestly wasn't expecting to."

He notices your face fall slightly before he quickly continues. "I wouldn't usually call this kind of place my thing, but... I found myself really enjoying myself. The company certainly didn't hurt."

You smile at that, and he eagerly returns it.

"Forgive me if I'm overstepping, but... I'd like to take you out sometime. Just me and you, away from all the noise."

Edward can hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth, and he's convinced he's dreaming. The smile on your face only grows.

"You mean, like a date?"

The redness of his cheeks deepens, and he nods, his knees feeling weak. You begin jotting something down in your notepad before pressing a folded-up piece of paper into his hand, blowing a plume of smoke just past his face. He can almost taste the nicotine and tequila on your lips as you lean towards him, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm looking forward to it."

With that, you flick your cigarette on the floor and turn on your heel, heading back into the bar. Edward unfolds the slip of paper to be met with the phone number he has had memorised since your first day working at KTMJ five months ago.

The routine is disrupted.

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