#how can i be sure how can anyone be sure that i will actually be going lmfaooooo
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The Alchemy I
jason todd x fem!reader
aka the progression of your relationship with the red hood
warnings: slow burn, mentions of attempted sa for reader, depictions of blood and injury, mentions of standard gotham violence
Dear fuck, he’s as heavy as he looks.
You use all of your weight to pull him backwards towards the couch, almost giving up when you realized you’d have to lift him up off the ground to actually get on it.
Getting him through the window was enough of a hassle, challenging the difficulty of the decision to bring him in here at all.
Thankfully you don’t have to think too hard on it because you feel his body stiffen up suddenly. He jolts upright, though clearly pained to do so, hand flying to the gun holster on his side.
You take a step back, hands out in front of you. “Hey, it’s alright.”
“Who are you?” His voice is interrogative.
You put your hands down, “You’re the one who passed out on my balcony, I think if anyone gets to ask that question it’s me.”
He stares at you, white lenses bearing into your soul.
Okay, yeah. You tell him your name. He doesn’t move. “You just looked like you needed some help..”
His posture loosens a bit, and his hand finally leaves the holster.
He glances down at his abdomen, a sizable tear in his suit and a nearly alarming amount of blood. “You got any bandages?”
“Uh, I—yeah, yeah, I do.” You dart down the hall into the bathroom, shuffling through your first aid kid. You toss a few wraps into your arms, along with some antiseptic spray you suspect he’ll need. You grab your hand towel and get it wet under warm water.
When you return, he’s moved himself onto the sofa, lifting his shirt up to assess the damage. You round the couch, seeing more blood than you’d have hoped for.
“Can I?” You ask, motioning to his injury.
He looks up at you for a long moment. He nods.
You kneel down in front of him and replace his hand in lifting up the shirt. It’s a cut, it doesn’t look terribly deep, but still not shallow enough that he could just leave it.
You take the rag and dab it around the wound, trying to clean up the blood as much as possible without making contact with it.
He’s very still as you work, and you get the strong impression he’s watching you carefully.
You grab the antiseptic spray, shaking it. “This’ll sting.”
He grunts.
You apply the antiseptic thoroughly and he doesn’t even flinch. Doesn’t move his gaze from you for a second.
You unwrap one of the bandages and place it on firmly, making sure there’s no bleedthrough.
And not that you particularly want to be thinking about this right now, but the man is noticeably ripped. Stacked like a house of cards.
You rip away your gaze and stand up, hands on your hips, taking a deep breath. You look at him—at his helmet.
You don’t know how you can tell, but he’s studying you. Trying to get a read on you, maybe. Regardless, you’re eager to escape the gaze.
You shovel the remainder of your supplies back into your arms and bring them back to the bathroom, calling out, “I didn’t take off your helmet, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
There’s a short beat.
“Do I seem like someone that worries often?”
You peek your head out of the bathroom door.
You look at him. “You seem like someone that doesn’t worry enough.”
He snorts. “You’re not far off.”
You make your way back once you’re done, looking at the disregarded meal you’d been interrupted from. “I have pasta if you…eat.”
“I do.”
“I can go in the other room if you—”
He clicks the lock on his helmet, taking it off. He’s left with a second mask underneath, covering his eyes and nose. His dark hair sticks up from the helmet, a white streak poking out in the front. He looks younger than you would’ve expected. Cuter, if his jaw is anything to go by.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Okay then.
You grab a second plate out of the cabinet and scoop on the rest of the pasta from the pan.
You hand him the plate, avoiding standing too close.
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
You turn back around as casually as possible after hearing the name, wanting to avoid letting your face give anything away.
This guy kills people, right?
You sit down in the armchair across from the couch, spooling the pasta on and off the fork. He doesn’t show the same hesitation in dining away that you do—you guess fighting crime would require some calorie exchange.
“You a nurse?” He asks after a few minutes.
The question takes you by surprise. You hadn’t taken him as a small talk kind of person. “Huh? Oh, no, I’ve just taken a few first aid courses and stuff.”
He gives a short hum, thoughtful.
“What?”
“You’re good.” Hardly.
“I didn’t really do anything.”
“You did enough.” He says, not leaving much room for argument.
He stands up at once, walking past you to the kitchen. Your gaze follows him silently. He puts his empty plate in the sink and returns to the edge of the living room.
He looks at you once more and pops his helmet back on followed by the click of the lock.
“I’ll see ya.” He says shortly, before ducking out the window.
You’re left alone, sitting in your armchair, plate of cold pasta forgotten on your lap.
That could’ve gone very badly. Maybe not your most thought-through decision to literally drag the Red Hood into your apartment, but hey. Maybe you’re exercising your ability to be an upstanding, helpful person. Or maybe you were just hoping to prevent a vigilante being found dead on your fire escape.
Regardless, you close the window after him, leaving it unlocked. Just in case.
You wake in the middle of the night to the sounds of footsteps in your living room. You shoot upright, immediately spotting the lamp light flooding in from under your door.
Creeping to a stand, you grab the baseball bat next to your bed and slowly walk to the door.
You creep the door open as quietly as possible, inching out half a step at a time. A nearby creak on your floorboards had you swinging blindly, only to have your bat get stopped midair. You look up to see Mr. Hood himself, blocking the blow of your hit with his hand.
“Wow. You and a bat against Gotham, huh, sweetheart?”
“Fuck!” You let go of the bat and drown your face in your hands. “What is wrong with you?”
“Apparently that I don’t carry enough baseball bats with me.” He says coolly, inspecting your bat. Though he’s got to admit, your bat is probably a hell of a lot more useful than his.
You drop your arms at your side. “If I’d known bringing you into my apartment one time was going to be considered a free pass forever, I might’ve thought twice.”
“If I’d known I was going to nearly be concussed with a baseball bat, I might’ve too.” Barely. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re still half asleep and it was not a very good swing.
He looks at you straight on for the first time. His helmet quickly drifts down and back up to your face just as fast.
You look down. T-Shirt, underwear, and…no that’s it. Not…ideal. You pull down on the unfortunately not at all oversized shirt, wanting to creep back into your room.
He turns his back, allowing you to do just that and scramble for some shorts to throw on.
“Very gentlemanly of you.” You call out from your room, “And only thirty seconds after breaking into my apartment.”
“Okay, one, I’ve been here longer than that. In a non creepy way.”
“Right.”
“And two, I didn’t break anything. You live in the middle of Gotham and don’t lock your window?”
You reemerge in the doorway, “I live on the eighth floor.”
He turns around to face you again, helmet in his hands. “Didn’t stop me.” No it did not.
“Mm. So are you here specifically to judge my home security or was there something you needed?”
He takes a deep breath, “Actually yeah. I just need a place to rest for a minute.”
“Rest from what?”
A series of gunshots echo from down the street.
“Next question.”
Concise.
You and Hood sit on the couch in the dark, per his insistence, because for some godforsaken reason, you have no curtains. It takes a few minutes for the silence to dissipate into forced conversation, which takes a few more minutes to fade into actual conversation.
“Can I be honest with you?” You ask him.
“Does it matter how I answer?”
“I don’t understand how you’re not dead.” You poke your head up, turning to him. “Are you human?”
He cranes his neck to look out the window, “Maybe getting shot at isn’t the worst thing that could happen tonight…”
You roll your eyes with a smile that you’re glad is hidden by the darkness. “Oh, fuck off.”
“You don’t have much in terms of self-preservation skills, do you?”
You ignore him as to not acknowledge that he’s probably right and roll through to your next curiosity, “Who the hell was shooting at you anyways?” Though, you don’t really expect an answer.
He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. They got ‘til sunrise anyway.”
You tilt your head, “‘Til sunri—” oh. Yeah. Come to think of it, he does have two guns on him right now. At least that you can see. You squint blankly at the wall, “You know, I’m placing a lot of trust in the hope that you’re not just as bad as those guys.”
“Yes you are.” He nods, not doing anything to convince you that he is in fact a good guy. He hasn’t tried to harm you in any way though, so you guess that’s a good sign.
You tilt your head at him. “Do you get paid to do this?”
“I’m pretty sure there’s a lot of people who would pay me not to do this.”
You nod solemnly, mouth turned into an exaggerated frown. “So you have a day job?”
He looks over at you, “Do you always ask this many questions?”
“Are you always so dodgy about answering them?” You shoot back. If you’d thought for .5 seconds longer on that, you might not have said anything. But you feel comfortable here, in your apartment with a man whose face you’ve never seen, name you don’t know, and always has at least two loaded guns on him.
He huffs out a laugh, “Yeah. I am.” He looks over at you. “You live here by yourself?”
You look around at the empty apartment before turning back to him, “Seems that way.”
He shrugs, “Boyfriend could be out or something.”
“Well most people are asleep at one in the morning. Like I was. Remember that?”
“No.”
You sigh, curling up into a ball on your end of the couch, resting your chin on your knees. You’re quiet for a minute before piping up, “Do people actually break into apartments on high floors a lot?”
“Stupid people.” He pauses, looking over at the frown on your face. “Look, I’m in the neighborhood a lot. If I see somebody climbing your fire escape I’ll shoot them.”
You let a little smile out, “I’m thinking there’s other steps you could take before you get to that point.”
“If you want to waste time.” His gaze doubles back at you, “That was a joke, by the way.”
You bark out a tired laugh, “Yeah, I picked up on that, thanks.”
He removes his eyes from you, fixing on a set of pictures you have hanging on the wall.
Your eyes flutter and you move to rest your head on the arm of the couch. “Is this going to be a regular thing then?”
“You could lock your window.”
“Living on the eighth floor didn’t stop you, I can’t imagine a shitty lock will do much more.”
“If you don’t want me here, I won’t be here.” He says gruffly.
“If I don’t want you here, I’ll let you know.” You mumble, eyes closing.
You can barely make out a laugh from him, “Good to know.”
You’re not quite sure how much time goes by when he leaves, but you have a pretty strong feeling you’d fallen asleep. Your main indicator was feeling the blanket draped nicely over you that you could’ve sworn was on the chair across the room.
Maybe it’s ten o’clock at night and you’re sat on your kitchen floor, bawling your eyes out. Maybe you’re going to have to quit your job. Or maybe you’ll have to face a lawsuit. Maybe this is the worst day in the history of time. Maybe it’s about to get worse.
The sound of your living room window sliding open has you startling into a rush, body panicking as if you’ve done something wrong and desperately need to cover the evidence. The past few weeks of sporadic visits leaves no question about who it is, and you just hope the kitchen island in front of you will be enough to convince Hood that you’re not in and he’ll leave.
But because today is today, that’s not how it goes down.
You can vaguely make out the sound of his footsteps approaching, a courtesy that you’re sure he incorporated on purpose.
“Oh fuck…” you mutter to yourself, wiping your eyes.
He rounds the counter, looking down at you. “Wha—what’s wrong?”
“Fuck. Nothing.” You say, standing up and adjusting your clothes. “Are you hurt?” He better fucking not be at only ten.
“No, I—why are you on the floor?”
You roll your eyes, “I live alone, forgive me for assuming I would be given the privilege to cry on the floor in private.”
“Did something happen?” You’re trying really hard not to call him an idiot.
You raise your eyebrows, giving a light nod. “Uh, yeah, I’d say so.”
He shifts in his stance, “Do I need to talk to someone?”
You scoff, knowing damn well his version of ‘talk to someone’ does not include talking to someone. “Why are you even here so early?”
“Wanted to stop by before I went out.” he says quietly.
You’re about to snap something at him again, but the burning in your eyes takes immediate priority. You wrap your arms around your middle and try to calm yourself down, with very little success. The tears fall easily and your shoulders start shaking as you look at the floor, letting the melancholy take over.
It feels like much longer than it probably was, but sometime after the first few tears fall he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. This only makes you cry harder, sobbing against his armor. Your arms stay wrapped around your center, while his hands remain completely still against your back, though firm. You don’t realize it immediately, but he’s holding a good portion of your weight up, you’d for sure collapse onto the floor otherwise. You kind of wish you would. Sitting on the floor felt nice, maybe falling down on it will feel even better.
You slowly start to regain your breathing, the well in your eyes drying up again. He waits for you to stop completely and slowly pulls back from you, hands momentarily still wavering next to you like he’s ready to catch you.
It takes you a minute to notice, but his helmet is locked on to the finger-shaped bruises on your forearm. You awkwardly move your opposite arm to cover them, looking around your apartment with nothing to search for.
He’s quiet for a long while, clearly thinking hard. “What happened?”
You sniffle, “Some asshole at my job.”
“Some asshole?” He doesn’t believe you. Rightfully so, but he has no business being able to tell that you’re lying about one single word in that sentence.
“My boss. Was very intent on successfully hitting on me.” You exhale deeply, “His approach could use some work though, if I’m honest.”
His posture remains statue-like. “Where do you work?”
You look at him straight on for the first time that night, “What does that matter?”
“I’ll take care of it.” He says simply.
You wave him off, “It’s fine.”
He waits a moment before letting you know, “I’m being polite by asking, I’m going to find out either way.”
You plop back down on the kitchen floor, knees to chest. “Well, then do it the hard way.”
About ten seconds of him staring down at you in silence go by, before he sits down next to you. It’s a bit funny how he tries to shrink himself down next to you, you’re assuming because he doesn’t want you to get panicked again because this massive stranger is sitting next to you in your kitchen in the dead of night.
You don’t look at him as he clicks his helmet off and sets it on the other side of him. It’s quiet for another minute when he holds his gloved hand out to you, and you’re not quite sure how you know what he wants, but you do. You place your bruised arm in his hand, letting him gently pull it closer to him and scan over it.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?”
Again, you don’t know how, but you can tell he’s asking how far things went. “I started screaming and it freaked him out. He let me go.” you say numbly.
You can see him nod out of the corner of your eye, bits of red making their way into your peripheral despite the discarded helmet. You turn slowly to look at him, finding him looking at you already.
His face is more covered than it had been the first night, the same black mask covers his eyes but the lower half of his face is also hidden by a red mouthpiece. You’re in the lamp light and closer to him than you had been before and you’re counting out specks of green in his blue eyes. He lets you, to your surprise, and when you run out of emerald hues you take focus on his thick, dark eyelashes. Your gaze moves back ever so slightly to make eye contact with him and you tear your eyes away, zeroing in on the kitchen tiles.
You sigh contemplatively, “I’m worried if you kill my boss it’ll be traced back to me and I’ll get pinned for it.”
He doesn’t laugh. But your delivery was a little dry in the wrong way so really it was on you.
“I’m not going to kill him.” he tells you, “I wouldn’t gamble with my pied-a-terre like that.”
Your head falls back, hitting the drawer behind you with a light thud. “Then why waste your time at all?” Maybe you should slow down with the snide comments.
He wants to, but he doesn’t call out the implied self-slighting in your words. “Maybe it’s a ‘me’ thing but I don’t particularly like men that hurt women.”
You let out a dry laugh. “In Gotham, it just might be.”
He sits with you on the linoleum tile of your kitchen until your eyes start to droop and he lightly corrals you to your bedroom before taking his exit through the window. You told him multiple times that he could go and you were fine, but he insisted that nothing important was happening in the city that time of night. You didn’t quite believe him though, because it was past midnight by the time he’d headed out.
When you showed up to work the following day your boss wasn’t there. Wasn’t there the day after either. Or the day after. He didn’t make an appearance again until the following Monday. And when he did show face, he did so with a neck brace and a cast on his leg. But once more, he absolutely refused to make eye contact or speak to any of the female employees. It actually became a whole thing when he wouldn’t give instructions or feedback to any of you, and insisted on having his secretary replaced with a man, who he then used as a middle man to speak to all of the women for him. HR got involved three times in the span of the next five days, and by the Monday after, he’d been fired.
So to recap: yes, no, no, undecided, and hard no.
Maybe you’re really starting to like this Red Hood guy.
Hard yes.
You’re slightly on guard upon hearing a clattering on the balcony, though if the past few weeks have been any indicator, you’re not in much danger.
Your posture slumps as you peer around the hallway corner, “Oh, it’s you.”
“Good to see you too.” he grumbles, dropping onto the floor.
“Well, I have to imagine I’m a step up from the last person you saw.” You say, looking him up and down, seeing what sure as hell looks like a gunshot wound on his chest armor. “What happened to you? The Mad Hatter uses guns now?”
He groans, “Ah, I said something about him being a heartless fuck, and I guess he took it personally.”
You sigh, “Jesus Christ, Hood.”
He waves you off, “It’s not that big of a deal.”
You scoff, “He tried to shoot you in the heart.”
“Yeah, well, he missed.” He grumbles, adjusting his position on the couch.
You exhale sharply, “How do you know?”
“How do I know?” He tilts his helmet at you, exasperated.
You throw your arms up at your side, “I don’t know! I’m not equipped for this scenario.”
He huffs, “Look, it’s fine, it hit my armor. It’ll probably just be a bad bruise.”
“Probably?”
“I don’t think there’s blood. Could you…” he vaguely gestures to his torso, but it's enough for you to get the hint.
You shake the panic out of your head, “Yeah, yeah, of course.”
You help him shrug off his jacket as he strips off his armor, and you lift his shirt up as slowly as you can in case the injury is worse than he thinks.
You’re not shocked to see that he has scars, that’s kind of a given in his line of work. What you are shocked to see is one very long scar that lines directly up the center of his body. It’s a deep scar, too.
And, oh. The long scar extends further, splitting off into a fork at his collar. That’s—oh. Oh. Oh. That is an autopsy scar.
You’re not sure what to do. You’ve never seen a living person with an autopsy scar—though you have to imagine neither have most people.
He clearly does not want to talk about it and you’re happy to let him keep the skeleton in the closet.
You avert your gaze back over to his diaphragm at the area of reddened skin.
“There’s no blood, but…” You inspect it a bit closer, “I think there’s going to be a bad bruise. You might end up with bruising on your ribs, you need to get that looked at.”
“I am.” He says shortly.
You stand up straight, dropping your shoulders. “By someone who went to medical school. Or has taken more than one anatomy class in their life.”
He yanks down his shirt, standing, apparently too quickly, and wobbling. You catch his arm as he sways, attempting to steady him. “You should sit down.”
“Need to go back out.” He grunts, trying to pull away from you with little force.
“To get killed? ‘Cause you’re going the right way about it.”
He tilts his head at you like he’s daring you to be so bold again. At least that's what it felt like. You sigh, gesturing to the couch, “Sit down.”
You didn’t expect it to work but he does as told.
You look around, unsure of what to do next. “Do you need ice?”
“What?”
“You’re hurt.” You say slower. “Do you need ice?”
He falters for a second, “No, it’s—no.” A couple beats pass before he adds, “Thanks, sweetheart.”
It’s impossible not to notice that he’s staring at you. You feel hot under his gaze, not knowing what to do with yourself. You clear your throat, telling him to hang on for a second.
You call out behind you as you walk to the kitchen, “Take your helmet off, it’s rude.” You grab the painkillers from their new easily-accessible place on the kitchen counter and grab a water bottle from the fridge.
It was a joke but when you come back his helmet is off and he’s just wearing his domino eye mask. His hair is extra tousled, the white streak barely visible in the mess of loose curls. You toss the bottle of meds at him, followed by the capped bottle of water. He catches them easily, downing more than he probably should have but he got shot tonight so you figure you’ll give him a break about it.
You plop down on the couch next to him, honestly closer than you’d meant to. Your knees and shoulders lightly brush against one anothers, though neither of you make any moves to scoot over.
You both look straight ahead at the wall, simmering in the amity. “So did somebody else deal with the Hatter or when you get shot do you just bounce back like a T-1000?”
He scoffs, “No, getting shot at is a bit of an inconvenience for me.”
“Wrong line of work.”
He cocks an eyebrow, “You’re telling me.”
You turn your head to him, “Why do you do it then?”
He looks back at you earnestly. “Someone has to.”
“Someone does.”
He tenses up a bit at that, breaking eye contact. “Not well enough.”
Your head slowly lulls and drops into a rest on his shoulder, causing him to stiffen up a bit more before almost completely relaxing.
“So violence is the answer to violence?” you ask, not argumentative, just genuinely musing.
Hood sighs, “Half-assed reform programs didn’t do anything, shitty ‘crisis interventions’ didn’t do anything, the cops sure as hell don’t do anything.” He shrugs under you. “You run out of options eventually.”
“And that’s why you took it upon yourself to intervene?”
“Mm. ‘When reason fails, the devil helps.’” He says, quite melodramatically, in your opinion.
“I-Is that—” you squint, shooting off of his shoulder to look him in the eye. “You spend your nights getting in street fights and shootouts and you spend your days reading Crime and Punishment of all things?” You gawk at him, “That explains a lot about your disposition.”
He shrugs with a shake of his head. “It’s a rough world. Can’t afford to be reading about Hogwarts.”
You pause, combing through your next words, “‘Man only likes to count his troubles; he doesn’t calculate his happiness.’”
His eyes crinkle under his mask as he smiles, clearly pleasantly surprised that you know your shit. “Touché.”
You grin back, pleased with yourself.
There’s a brief recession where your smiles both get caught in the flicker between on and off, where your eyes take the opportunity to scan over each other’s faces.
You realize that this may be the first time you’ve seen him properly smile and it’s so magnetizing. So much so that you don’t realize you’re staring at his lips until your eyes snap back up to his and find that his are on yours.
His eyes don’t leave yours as he nudges you a bit with his shoulder. It does just enough to break the trance, giving you the cue to rest your head on him again. This time you allow more of your weight to lean against him and he actually seems relaxed for once.
You glance at the clock on the wall without moving and realize it’s almost four in the morning. “I’m tired, Hood.” you mumble into his shirt.
“You don’t—” he falters for a moment, “You don’t have to call me that.”
You squint at him, “What should I call you then?”
He’s quiet for a moment. “J.”
“J?” you whisper, like it’s a grave secret. You guess it kind of is.
He nods.
“Okay.” Your cheek flattens against his shoulder. “J.”
You nearly think you’re imagining it when you feel him rest his head against yours.
“You don’t know how to protect yourself?”
You roll your eyes at him, “You saw the way I swung at you with the baseball bat, what do you think?”
It’s only just after sunset, you could still see some purple-pink hues in the sky if you looked out the window. He’s started showing up before patrol some nights, saying he felt bad about waking you up at 3 am multiple times a week. So now, he mostly only drops in late if he’s a manageable amount of injured.
You stand in the middle of your living room together, after you’d made a joke about needing him as a bodyguard in Gotham. As it turns out, that was a one way street to him finding out that you’re useless in a fight.
“I was hoping you were having an off night because you just woke up, but now I'm concerned.” He says, grimacing.
You shrug, “I carry pepper spray.”
He grumbles, displeased. “Put your hands up.”
You drop your head to the side and glower at him, “Really?”
He raises his eyebrows at you. Just do it.
Alright, you’ll humor him. You put your fists up and he holds his hands open in front of you in kind. You throw a light punch.
“Come on, put your weight behind it.”
You do, hitting his hand harder. “Hood—”
He tilts his head forward at that, looking at you through his brows.
You inhale impatiently, “J, Why do we have to do this? I don’t have any illusions that I could knock you out and I can’t imagine you do either.”
He shakes his head, “It’s not about knocking someone out, it’s about defending yourself. Gonna be a hell of a lot harder to hurt you if you’re throwing punches. Harder.”
You give a raised hum, “Not if they have a gun…”
“Well, we’ll work on that too.”
You groan, throwing a half-assed hit. “Where’d you learn to fight?” You ask before throwing another.
“Turn your body into it.” He corrects. “My, uh, my dad taught me.”
You hum, hitting him again. “Are you guys close?”
“You’re being nosy again.” He grunts amidst a hit.
“You’re being evasive again.” You shoot back.
He drops his hands, taking your wrists in his, “Here, put your hands in front of your face when you shoot so you can block counters.” He tells you, adjusting your stance accordingly.
You make a face, “I’m confused, am I fighting a mugger or a kickboxer?”
He ignores you, moving his hands around to give you different angles to hit at.
You go at it for a few minutes, taking his critiques with reluctant concedence. “Alright, that’s good.” He says, relaxing his body.
You perk up, “We’re done?”
“No,” he shuts you down before asking earnestly, “Do you trust me?”
Your brain hadn’t even fully processed the question before you nod, mumbling a ‘yes’. He takes a measured step closer to you, watching carefully for your reaction. You almost back up in surprise, angling your head up further to look at him properly. You give no objection, so he continues, “I want you to try to get me on the ground.”
You let out a sound that’s half-laugh, half-scoff. “You’re twice my size.”
He sighs, looking at you somberly. “Sweetheart, odds are you’re not going to be evenly matched against someone that wants to hurt you. You get ‘em on the ground ‘n you have the upper hand or it’ll give you time to get away.”
You throw your hands up at your sides, “I don’t—” You huff, “Fine, okay.” You try to trip him by sliding your leg behind his and kicking, but he blocks you expertly.
You, against better judgment, shove your shoulder into his side, though it does nothing to phase him, let alone knock him down.
“You gotta get more creative than that.” He chastises with a tut.
In response, you take a step back to reassess the situation. You try to maintain a poker face as you strategize in your head. You make a dive for his legs, wrapping your arms around the back of his legs and pulling hard to make him lose balance. You’re sure if he were actually trying for a damn you would immediately be done for afterwards, but it does make him wobble. You then throw all of your weight against him, pushing him backwards and causing him to hit the floor with a thud.
He probably allowed for gravity to come to your aid, but he lands on his back all the same. You land half on him, half on the carpet, your hand resting on his chest. He looks up at you nodding, “Good. That was good, sweetheart.”
You smile, quite proud of yourself, and start to stand up when he hooks his arm around the back of your knee and pulls you to the ground too, switching places with you. You hit the ground gently with a sigh, “Really?”
He has one hand rested next to your head to balance him in his place above you. He smirks down at you and lets a tussle of white hair hang over his forehead. “Can’t be getting cocky, sweetheart.”
You laugh sourly, “Coming from you?”
You quickly push at the bend of his arm and use the distraction to adjust your position to wrap your legs around his center and push your arm against his chest in an attempt to rotate him off of you.
He counters you by pushing your shoulder down, holding you down to the floor. His opposite hand flies to pull your forearm away from his chest, pinning it next to your head, careful to avoid your hair. He moves so quickly that you have half a mind to think he acted on pure instinct. That, and the look on his face when the dust settles says that he hadn’t intended for you to end up in this position.
Your legs are still wrapped around him and you’re too frozen in the moment to make any changes. He’s in no more of a rush to move, large frame towering over you. You feel his touch stutter against your shoulder, his eyes flickering across your face.
You gaze up at him, taking in the soft look in his eyes behind the mask. You think you can see more green than you did before. You unwrap your legs from around his waist and slowly start to sit up. He releases your wrist and eases the pressure on your shoulder. He leans back half as quickly as you move forward, stopping when you’re propped up on your elbows.
Your faces are only a few inches apart and it feels like your only option is to look down at his lips. You have a feeling he’s doing the same to you. The adrenaline of the hassle has long since faded but the rhythm in both of your chests remains quick.
He leans forward so barely, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. “J…” you say breathily, not sure what implication you’re aiming for.
He stills and this time you’re sure he’s looking at your lips. He blinks a few times like he’s trying to come back to himself and inches his face away from yours slowly.
You let the hold in your breath release, disappointed more than anything. He eases off the floor to a stand and holds his hand out to help you up too. You take it with more of a frown than you’d meant to let out and rise to your feet.
“Let’s, uh…” He looks at the ground before taking a step back and putting his hands up again. “Let’s try some combos.”
You blink up at him for a second before raising your hands too.
Alright, one step at a time.
#jason todd loves this stranger#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagine#jason todd x you#red hood imagine#red hood x reader#red hood x you#jason todd fanfic#jason todd x y/n#jason todd/you#jason todd/reader#jason todd fanfiction#red hood fanfic#red hood fanfiction#dc x you#dc x reader#dc imagine#dc fanfic#dc fanfiction#jason todd loves his gf
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PostOutbreak!Joel likes reader but he tries to hide it because of the age gap. To try and put us off, he can be a bit standoffish/mean but Ellie can tell it’s a facade and tells him to drop it and the age thing doesn’t matter if you really like each other. Then a fluffy confession omggg
Pairing: PostOutbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader
Warnings: unspecified age gap, joel being a lil insecure and scared, and Ellie being a menace, but its mostly all fluff who am i kidding
a/n: this was the cutest fucking request ever, thank you anon
You know those books or movies where it's painfully clear to everyone but the two main characters that they love each other, and you keep reading or watching thinking "How could anyone not see that he likes her?" as you increasingly get more frustrated and annoyed?
Well, this is a bit like that,
not a bit actually, completely so.
And in this metaphor, you and Joel were the two oblivious main characters, while Ellie, poor Ellie, was the unfortunate witness of your blindness.
It was so incredibly clear to her that she sometimes struggled not to laugh at your interactions.
I mean the first time Joel saw you was the very first time she'd seen him blush and forget how to speak in the span of a second- it was hilarious.
And then when he'd catch him staring at you or pretend not to purposely take the longer route home just to catch a glimpse of you outside the bakery... it was hard to only chuckle underneath her breath, but she managed...
until today
Joel slammed the door as he got it, like really loud, not like his usual slam.
"what's wrong?" Ellie asked, her brows frowning in suspicion as he kicked his boots off his feet before halfheartedly dragging them to the kitchen where she was sitting.
"nothin'" he grumbled,
Now that made Ellie sigh with annoyance,
he was always the one to blab about how she could always confide in him, and if that was the truth, then that meant it went both ways.
"Y'know a grumpy old man once told me that it's good to share how you're feeling" She tilted her head to the side, raising her brow as Joel rolled his eyes, filling a glass with water "Would be real hypocritical of him to not take his own advice..."
Said old man, was now rolling his eyes even harder, drowning the full glass in a second
"'s nothing, don't worry 'bout it"
"Joel" Ellie only glared at him,
and as always when it was her,
he was convinced faster than he liked to admit
He sighed, before speaking "It's stupid" he said
"I don't care" Ellie shrugged, placing her elbows on the kitchen counter where she sat and using her hands to support her head, her whole focus on Joel,
who sighed, again.
"I just-" he placed the glass in the sink before turning back to her "I just saw y/n talking to I guy I-"
"Oh my god you're jealous!" she said it with such enthusiasm and with such a smile pulling at her lips that you would have guessed she'd just won the lottery
"no" Joel frowned, shaking his head "What are you on about? I'm not jealous, I just don't like the guy"
"yeah" Ellie snorted "I'm sure you just "don't like the guy"" she air quoted as she laughed
"Why would I be jealous?" Joel went on pretending,
perhaps lying to himself together with her, the jury was still out.
"I'm just worried for her-" he argued "she's too kind and too fucking nice and Jake's an asshole"
again, Ellie only smiled as she watched him lie so blatantly
"why would you be jealous?" she pondered his question with amusement "well I don't know... maybe 'cause you have the biggest fucking crush on her"
"What!?" he spat "I don't know what's going on with you today, where did you get all these ideas? I-"
"Oh my god please shut up Joel" she groaned, rolling her eyes "That rude asshole act you do around y/n may work with her, but you don't fool me, Miller"
Ellie could swear she saw a hint of panic in his eyes
"I know you like her, just like I know she likes you" She finally said, done with this little act "I honestly don't get why you two don't just declare your love to one another and live happily ever after or some shit"
It was like he froze,
and while Ellie thought it was because he'd just been busted by a 14-year-old, it was for a wholly different reason
"she doesn't like me" he stated
And at that, at that Ellie could just groan as her palm descended dramatically down the length of her face
God, she'd always known he wasn't the brightest, but this? This is a little too much even for him
"Are you blind or something?" she threw her hands out for emphasis "She's definitely better at hiding it than you, I'll give you that, but I mean, still... it's fucking obvious dude!"
"Ellie" Joel only shook his head "you 'don't know whatcha talkin' 'bout"
Ellie was now very close to yelling at him.
"Joel I'm serious, she likes likes you!" she argued, "why do you find that so hard to believe?"
But of course, Ellie couldn't have known what was going on in Joel's mind, how certain he was that it wasn't true,
about how he knew he didn't deserve someone like you, someone so kind and beautiful and smart,
how he had spent months trying to get the thought of you to leave his tainted mind,
how he'd decided to be mean, rough, rude to you in the hopes that you would stop being so nice to him, in the hopes that you would start to avoid him, to hate him, and he'd never have to see you or that gorgeous smile again.
And finally, Ellie didn't know about how he was too incredibly, terribly old for you, for such a pretty young woman.
Half his hair was gray for god's sake, he never had a chance
"I could be her father Ellie" he finally confessed what had been eating up at him for so long "I'm too fuckin' old"
Ellie didn't even need a moment to take that it, she listened, thought about it, and immediately rolled her eyes
"SO WHAT?"
You don't understand how long she had to pretend not to want to give the both of you a good shake,
it was only right for her to finally shout it out
"First of all, you're not that old" she started listing, "second of all, she obviously doesn't care" she continued "and finally Joel, if you really like her, and if she really likes you, then it doesn't matter!"
But Joel was not convinced, he'd spent too long telling himself the opposite, and he couldn't even fathom the possibility of what Ellie was saying
"you just have to tell her"
she said it like it was easy, like the mere thought of it didn't give Joel a minor heart attack, like he hadn't woken up from multiple dreams where he would confess his love and you would laugh at his face, or worse, tell him you felt the same, something Joel knew not to be the truth.
Also, Joel had no idea when exactly throughout this conversation he'd admitted to liking you, but I guess it didn't matter now, it made no sense to keep the farse on.
"I can't Ellie, I-"
"oh my god you're such a chicken" she moaned "You're the one that always tells me to be brave!"
"that's different"
"how!?" she bugged her eyes, holding her palms up in show of her frustration "I get that it's scary, but what's the worst thing that could happen?"
And that, for some reason, stuck with him,
He really had nothing to lose,
It's not like you were friends or you would talk often, it's not like he would be ruining a relationship, there wasn't one,
And yet... yet it still terrified him,
"Ellie... I don't know"
"c'mon man, but your big boy pants on" she groaned "I'm telling you, she fucking likes you"
__ __ __
Joel didn't do it.
He couldn't. He just-
You were perfect, you were perfect in a way that made him feel all the more dirty,
like being close to you, talking to you, touching you... would be like plucking a flower with torn-up hands,
And fuck him, but Joel was scared, like he'd gone back 40 years and become 16 all over again.
He couldn't do it, he couldn't, wouldn't do it, and he'd set his mind to that, made peace with his cowardness and dread.
Until of course, Ellie's twisted mind came up with a way to force his fears to life.
"Howdy"
The kid was smiling so broadly that she looked like a child with a brand-new toy,
but Joel's eyes were somewhere else,
he was looking at you
"Hi Joel" you smiled, punching a knife into his gut
You were at his front door with his kid, who was very clearly plotting something, and Joel wondered for a moment if this was what would finally make his heart give out.
"Hi," he said, his voice sounding distant
Why is she here?
"Aren't you gonna let us in?" Ellie urged,
Us?
"Uhm, I-"
but Ellie had already sneaked inside, dragging you behind
And now the awkward scene was even more awkward, just at the entrance of his home.
"All alright" Ellie clapped her hands, watching Joel stare at you as you tried to avoid his gaze "I'm gonna go to my room," she said, shouldering him not so subtly
"Cool down dude" she mumbled, before disappearing upstairs.
What the fuc-
"I'm sorry to barge in like this" you finally spoke, a gentle smile on your lips "Ellie said you needed to tell me something, so I just... came here I guess" you finished with an awkward laugh
Fuck-fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-
"If it's too much trouble I'll just go-"
"no," Joel said, before he could stop himself, finally realizing he was still holding the door's knob, and in a spur of bravery, deciding to use it to close the door.
"Oh, ok" you mumbled, puzzled by his demeanor "so uhm, what is it you needed to tell me?"
God damn that fucking trick-playing kid of his
"do you- do you want something to drink?"
the question took you aback, but then you did something that stunned Joel even more, you laughed,
you laughed softly, quickly, like you were letting out all this stupid awkwardness in a simple gesture
because that's how you were: Magical
"Sure" you shrugged, grinning "some water would be nice"
If Joel had to watch your face for an instant more he feared he was gonna explode, so he did all he could think of, he walked to the kitchen, only glancing at you again when he handed you your drink,
to his dismay, finding a smile still drawn on your lips.
"thank you" you said, taking a sip
god, even the way your lips wrapped around the rim made him want to drop to his knees.
He needed to get a grip.
"so... are you gonna tell me or do I have to guess?" you joked, your fingers drawing patterns on the glass
Was this really happening?
Was this hell?
"I..." he trailed off, running a hand through his hair as he glanced from the counter to you on repeat "I wanted to tell you that..."
"that?"
"that- the uhm-" he shut his eyes for a second, searching for words "the...bread you gave us this week was real good"
Goddamnit
"oh"
Even you couldn't hide your disappointment
I mean, you certainly didn't expect it. A compliment from Joel Miller? What universe were you in?
Just like you didn't expect any of this... him actually letting you in his house or offering you water...
You had half expected him to shut the door in your face,
The most he had ever given you was a half smile at a joke you told him while he was picking up bread, the rest were all rude grumbles or just a bunch of stoic looks...
and yet... yet a part of you couldn't help but have set expectations a little higher.
What a silly fool you'd been,
hoping for a love confession from a man who has made it very clear he despises you,
but still- a girl can dream, right?
"thank you" you mumbled, as Joel cursed himself over and over in his head "that's very nice of you," you smiled, stalling a second to see if he was gonna say something else, interrupt you at some point,
but he remained silent
"well if that's all, I'm gonna go then, thank you for the water I-"
Until he wasn't
"no-stop- I-"
Ellie was right.
He had to do this, he had to win his fear and try at least, or he was gonna regret it for the rest of his life, and he already had too many of those.
The problem was that you looked really beautiful today, and he'd never been good with words
Fuck it- if he was gonna make a fool of himself so be it,
He had nothing to lose and everything to win,
he had you to win.
"Yes?" you asked, trying to tame your hopes down
Think Joel, think
how the fuck do you tell a woman you like her?
"There's one other thing I've been meaning to tell ya" he cleared his throat, standing up straighter as he took a step closer to you.
"'m not great at doing this type of thing" he admitted, shaking his head slightly "but Ellie... she's right, I'm always tellin' her to be brave and everythin', so... I guess it's my turn now," he said, letting out a short, anxious laugh "I don't even know- I guess what I'm tryna say is that I'm gonna be honest now, but I want you to know that- that I know what you're gonna say and it's ok" he swallowed thickly, preparing himself from your inevitable rejection "I understand, really, I just- I thought I should try at least"
What was going on?
What the fuck was he saying?
"Joel, what are you talking about?"
This was it.
It was now or never.
"Y/n I-"
his heart was beating out of his chest, and his legs felt like jelly, but he had to do it, he had to take a leap of faith-
"Y/n I like you" he breathed like the words longed to be out of his mouth "I like you a lot, I have for a while now"
he watched your mouth part, your whole face filling with shock as you blinked over and over, trying to make sure this was really happening.
"Y-you like me?"
"yes" he nodded "And as I said, I know you don't feel the same, I know I'm old, and I've been an asshole to you all this time, so it's ok, really I-"
"stop talking Joel" you huffed a laugh, stepping closer, and then closer again, until your hand was on his arm "please just-" you bit down a smile, and he was so confused, so fucking confused, "say it again," you asked
"I like you y/n" he murmured, trying to get his mind to start working again,
but you were leaning closer,
and who cared what his name was anyway
"you were rude to me"
"I was, I'm sorry I-"
You pretended to be thinking about it, glancing upwards as you pursed your lips together
But who were you kidding?
"you're forgiven" you smiled, looking up at him as you slowly raised yourself on your tiptoes to gently, oh so gently, press your lips to his.
Joel was certain he had just died.
But then he opened his eyes again, and you were still there, beaming up at him, and he felt such a wave of happiness that he could have started crying right there,
only he took on a different route and grabbed each side of your face with his hands, crashing his lips with yours and kissing you, kissing you like he'd been dreaming of for months
exactly how you imagined he would,
better than you imagined, actually
so much better.
"Ha! I told you, Joel!"
He groaned as he leaned away, shooting Ellie an annoyed glance
"What are you doin' here?"
"just came here to gloat" she shrugged, watching you two with a grin plastered on her face
"I think you've done enough of that" he muttered, but you could only smile
"thank you, Ellie," you grinned "Thank you for doing this"
She raised her brows, looking at Joel as if saying "See, she's thanking me, why aren't you?", but then her expression got more genuine as she shot you a smile
"you're welcome" she smiled "Better having to see you kiss than having to put up with Joel being all sad 'cause you're talking to Jack or any other guy"
You gasped with amusement as Joel shut his eyes in embarrassment, his cheeks tainting with red
"Ellie-" Joel grumbled,
A soft giggle flowed through the room as Ellie turned away and went back up to her room, seemingly satisfied with her work
"You were jealous?" you teased him, your hands on his chest, while he'd moved one of his from your face to your waist.
"maybe I was" he fessed up
You smiled even brighter
"And you like me?" you asked for the thousandth time
"yes, sweetheart, I really fuckin' like you" he smiled too now, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that made time stand still and the world spin around
"I like you too Joel" you finally said, giving the man an actual mini-stroke.
"say it again"
#sorry for not posting lately im not going through the best time at the moment#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller fluff#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfic#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x y/n#joel miller smut#joel miller x you#smut#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#fluff#joel miller imagine#joel miller blurb#joel miller angst#fanfiction#the last of us#tlou#the last of us hbo#tlou hbo#joel miller x f!reader
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Alone with you. (141 x Reader.)
!smut, p in v sex, double penetration, gang bang, overstimulation, non con, proceed with caution, NO MINORS!
This was supposed to be my bday fic but I’ve had writers block, hope you enjoy!
"So this is the culprit hm?" Laswell lifts up the bottle of pheromone perfume.
"Looks like it." You mumble. "Wonder how good it actually works. Might spice up my sex life." You joke. Soap laughs. "What sex life?" he snorts. Seeing Laswell roll her eyes at the both of you. "Exactly my point. Asshole." You mumble under your breath.
When Soap leaves the room, Laswell smirks at you. "I'm sure in super small doses it couldn't hurt." She winks. You catch the tiny vial in your hand that she had just thrown at you. You smile at her. "And that's why you're my favorite, Laswell." You laugh, following her out of her office. Tucking the vial into your back pocket. "Alright. I'm heading out. Graves said he has some leads in North America so I'll be over there for a couple weeks. Try not to kill each other while I'm gone." She smiles. "No promises. As always, safe travels Laswell. Ring when you get to where you're going." You call to her. She nods her head, waving at you. You disappear down the corridor, going to your room.
———
Later that same night, you make your way into the mess hall, cup in hand. It's got water in it. You haven't had the chance to eat yet. You sit down for just a second and a gasp leaves your lips when you hear a small pop come from your back pocket. "Shit." You mumble. You hear the others coming and choose to stay put, only turning to look at your backside when they're distracted. You notice that there's no liquid anymore. Had it absorbed that quickly?
You quickly head back to your room, trying to clean all of the glass out of your pocket. You change into some other leggings that you have since it's almost time for bed anyway it's not like anyone will care.
You make your way back out into the mess hall and take your seat once more. Seeing that Soap has set up across from you at the table. It's silent for the most part, until Soap starts to shuffle awkwardly. He clears his throat a couple of times, finally looking up at you. Only now does he suddenly feel very attracted to you. He was before of course but now, something is different. He clears his throat again and adjusts the way he's sitting. You glance around the room to see each of them stealing glances at you.
Is it the pheromone perfume doing this?
No… it couldn’t be. It was only a tiny vial.
You stand up to get rid of your tray and move to sit back down. “Y/N. Can I speak with you?” Your Captain grasps your attention. You nod your head, following him out to the hallways. “Did Laswell give you the pheromone perfume?” He crosses his arms. “Yeah, I was supposed to throw it away for her but I forgot about it and it broke open in my pocket.” He shakes his head. “Listen, the scent you’re giving off is way too much. Go lock yourself in your room and stay there until it’s worn off.” He finishes his sentence and then grits his teeth, like he’s holding something back. “Go on.” He breathes. You can’t help but notice the beads of sweat on his forehead. You nod your head. As you start walking down the corridor, you hear him.
“No, Johnny wait!” You turn back to see Soap trying to push passed him. Very clearly trying to get to you.
You hurry down the hallway and open the door to your room, closing the door behind you. “Jesus fuck.” You mumble to yourself. Is this stuff really this strong?
You take a deep breath, sitting at the edge of your bed.
For a couple hours, you hear nothing but silence. And it’s a bit deafening. It’s eerie like there’s something off. You lay down, trying to distract yourself but you end up falling asleep.
In your sleep, you feel someone moving next to you, dipping the edge of your bed down. You stir awake when you feel their hands on you. When you realize what’s going on, that someone is actually touching you, your eyes open completely. You jump away from them, seeing that it’s Soap. But he’s not there right now. His eyes are dark. “Johnny… what are you doing?” You breathe. “You smell so good lass. Can smell how fucking bad you want this…” he smirks. He moves off of your bed, circling around it to try to corner you. You make a split second decision and bolt for the door, sprinting down the hallway. You can hear his heavy footsteps chasing after you. You turn the corner, eyes widening and your feet skidding to a stop as you see your Captain and Gaz. They’re both standing there. Clearly blocking you from going this direction. “Nowhere to run, darling.” Gaz smirks. You breathe out.
This has to be some kind of sick joke.
Soap closes in behind you, they make slow steps toward you.
You take off through the mess hall. Seeing a window that opens and hurrying up to it, you pry it open and climb through it. Sliding out of their grasp just barely. You take off running, seeing the watch tower. Perfect.
You make your way up, slowly and quietly. You don’t know if they’re on watch since they’re not thinking right.
You move up inside, closing the door behind you. Breathing. You dig your phone out of your pocket, dialing Laswell immediately. “Y/N, I haven’t got to base just yet, I’m driving.” She mumbles. “I know- it’s not that.” You breathe, hands shaking. “The vial you gave me broke open in my pocket and my body absorbed all of it, now I’m in a freaking wild goose chase Laswell.” You pant. “What? It’s that bad?” She asks. “Yes! They’re like.. freaking zombies Laswell. They’re not even there.” You breathe. “You’ll just have to wait it out Y/N.” She mumbles. “Yeah.. Yeah I know.” You mumble. “Thanks Laswell.” You sigh.
You hear creaking, fear coursing through you. Just as you turn to look at the door, a hand snakes its way around your waist, tugging you into them, another hand clamping around your mouth. “Gotcha.” He whispers. His voice is deep and it comes out almost as a growl.
It’s Ghost.
He moves his other hand from your waist and grasps your phone, pressing the button to hang up. Lowering the phone down onto the countertop. “Didn’t lock the door sweetheart. Almost like you wanted this to happen hm?” He breathes, his warm breath right over your ear. “You know we’re not gonna hurt ya.” He brushes your hair out of your face. “Ghost, please-“ you whine. “You smell so good. Drives me crazy. I almost didn’t want to tell them you were up here.” He chuckles. Your eyes widen.
Just then, you can hear multiple footsteps coming up the metal staircase. Like everything is deafened around you and that’s all you can hear.
What are they going to do to you?
Ghost spins you around. You see the other three creeping into the room, Soap makes sure to lock the door behind himself. “Nowhere to run now, Dove. It’s just you and us now.” Gaz mumbles, stepping closer. You step back. But know it’s no use. You’re stuck, and whatever is going to happen, it’s happening now. “What are you going to do?” You swallow hard. Johnny chuckles. “Nothing you won’t like, darling. How about we get these clothes off of you, hm?”
“I- I don’t-“
“That wasn’t a question. It was an order.” Captain Price’s voice booms in your ears. His sternness always was intimidating. “Y-yes sir.” You breathe. You hope that as you reach for the hem of your shirt, they’ll start laughing. That this will be some kind of sick joke. But they don’t.
You tug your shirt over your head. Breathing out. You clench your eyes shut as they reach for their belts. Still dressed in their military uniforms. “Y/N. Look at me.” You tilt your head up, swallowing down the lump in your throat as you look at Johnny. “Nothing to be scared about. Just relax.” He chuckles. You nod your head. He reaches out, grasping hold of your upper arm and pulling you into him with ease. How easy it is for him to move you makes you realize just how powerful these men are. He forces you up against the small table in the watch tower. It’s old and you’re not sure if it’ll hold you.
You swallow hard, wincing as the table begins to dig into your pelvis. He makes you rest your hands on it. “Be a good girl.” He breathes. His voice sends chills down your spine. He reaches for your pants, tugging them down your legs. He holds them down with his foot, having you step out of them. “Good girl. Now listen.” He breathes. He raises his hands up, unclasping your bra and letting it fall over your shoulders and onto the floor. “Nobody will hear you, so you can be as loud as you want to. Alright? You’re going to like this, because you’re a naughty little thing. Promise.” He mumbles. He pushes you back down, forcing you over the table. A gasp leaves your lips as he pushes apart your legs.
He frees his cock from its confines and you can see the others standing off to the side. You clench your eyes shut once more, whining as he presses the fat tip of his cock at your entrance. You suck in a sharp breath as he pushes himself past your entrance, sliding in and bottoming out into you. You lurch forward with a hiss at the intrusion. “Oh- f-fuck!” You cry. Raising up slightly with a cry. He only forces you back down. “Shhh. It’s okay.” His attempt at soothing you is pathetic and half-assed. If you weren’t in this particular position, you might laugh at him.
But you don’t think you’ll ever be able to look at them the same ever again.
You rest your head on the table, breathing out. Take a deep breath, try not to lose control.
That’s hard to do, keeping yourself together around them when they’re as attractive as they are. And the way they’re touching you.
Just as soon as you’re full, he’s pulling out of you again. He lifts you up, shoving the flimsy table out of the way and kneeling on the ground with you. Ghost steps toward you and you look up at him, he’s still got his mask on. You can’t see his smile. “Look good from this position, darling.” He smirks. You swallow hard, he moves his jeans to the side and tugs his boxers down, revealing his length to you. He’s big. You swallow hard, looking down. “No need to be nervous now. Look at me.” He breathes. You tilt your head up again, feeling Johnny kneel behind you, moving his length up the expanse of your ass. You shudder as Simon steps forward. “Open your mouth.” He breathes. You’re trying to stay focused on Simon but the feeling of Johnny’s length pushing into you from behind has you wincing again. “Relax. Look up at me.” He lifts your chin forcefully. Pushing the tip of his cock past your lips. You take him down as far as you can, swallowing around his shaft. Hearing him gasp.
“Johnny touch her clit.” He breathes.
Johnny does it, listening to his LT.
He glides his hand over your hip and stomach. Calloused hands rough on your skin but his fingertips on your clit has your thighs ready to give out. He draws his hips back, thrusting back into your ass. Hearing you choke on Simon’s cock. You draw back, taking a deep breath. You rest your hands on his thighs, pulling him closer to you so that you can take him further down. “There.. see.” He breathes. “All you had to do was make her horny.” His laugh is deep and taunting. He tilts his head back, groaning out. You focus on the tip of his cock, knowing it’s got the most nerve endings. Being gentle but still sucking hard. It only takes a couple of minutes before his thighs are shaking.
“Fuck-“ he draws back away from you. “Wanna be in that pussy.” He breathes. “Gonna make me cum too fast.” He breathes.
He kneels down in front of you. Wiping your lips of saliva and clearing them. Johnny’s hard thrusts into you keep you wet, and you whine when he pulls his hand away from your clit. “It’s alright. Gonna get you nice and full lass.” Soap chuckles. You probably look fucking pathetic in front of them. Fucked out and desperate. You knew you needed to get laid but this…
This is too far. But it’s something you didn’t know you needed.
They raise you up, wrapping your legs around Simon’s waist. Johnny slides himself back inside of your ass, feeling you tense up. Simon glides his tip up between your folds, pushing past them. You whine out, starting to squirm. “S’alright.” He breathes. His voice is low. Only you can hear it. When they’re both bottoming out in you, your breath is gone. Lungs are empty and burning. You’re trying to catch your breath but it feels impossible. A sob gets caught in your throat and you clench your eyes shut as they start to fuck you. “Fuck- not gonna last-“ Johnny hisses. Ghost holds you still, both of them moving in unison as they thrust into you. You shake and cry, overstimulated and you haven’t even cum yet.
“Fuck!” Johnny slides out of you, pumping himself with his hand. He bucks his hips into you, resting his forehead on your back as he finishes. Simon doesn’t stop his thrusts, keeping up his bruising pace.
Johnny moves away from you, he’s been selfish thus far. It’s someone else’s turn.
Gaz takes his place. Desperate to feel you. He inches closer, spitting into his hand and gliding it over the tip of his cock. He slides into you again. Feeling you gasp out. Lurching foward into Simon. He laughs. “You’re doing good. Keeping up.” Ghost mumbles.
Gaz grips your hips and tries to hold you still as he and Simon fill you. You can feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm. Shivering as it inches closer and closer.
Chills start at your toes and work their way up your body.
“I- oh god-“ you whine.
You clench your eyes shut, letting it take over your body. You’re sure it’ll be the hardest you’ll ever cum. They don’t stop, riding out your orgasm as it washes over you. You know they’re not going to stop.
You relax, trying to pace yourself despite being overstimulated. You raise your hand up and rest it on Simon’s shoulder. Hearing Gaz chuckle behind you at your fucked out state. Simon’s breathing is getting a little heavier. He lowers his head, lips right by your ear. “So tight baby… getting me so close.” He grits his teeth. He starts to pant, cock throbbing and twitching inside of you. He groans out, sliding out of you. He grits his teeth and tries to contain himself as he cums.
He takes a second, panting. His head is buried into the crook of your neck as he comes down. He finally pulls away from you. Standing up and adjusting his pants.
Captain Price is quick to take his place. You’re ready to tap out but it’s clear that they’re not going to let you. Gaz grasps your chin, tilting your head back. “You’re doing good. Just a bit more.” He breathes, pressing his lips to yours. You can feel your captain’s hands on you, groping your breasts in his hands as he lines himself up with your entrance. “You still smell so good.” He growls. Gaz lets go of you and you finally get a good look at John. His eyes are dark, like the others. Their pupils are dilated, they look dark. Empty. Like there’s nothing there, only lust.
What the hell is this stuff and who made it?
You whine again as he slides into you. Tears filling your eyes. You clench your eyes shut and brace yourself for what they’re going to do to you. You rest your head on John’s chest as they start fucking into you mercilessly, John is desperate. He’s been waiting the longest. He’s eager and horny and the way he fucks you shows it. You’re sobbing into his chest in just minutes, overstimulated and overwhelmed. Your body shakes and you can feel the warmth pooling in your lower abdomen again. You can’t stay quiet. Moans spill from your lips uncontrollably and tears stream from your eyes. You’ve never been so overwhelmed in your life. “Do you feel good? Hm?”
“Yes!” You cry. “Tell me how good you feel.” He breathes. Forcing you to look up at him. “Tell me how good all of us have made you feel. And it better be good honey. Let everyone know how good they’ve fucked you today.” He forces your face up again by your jaw. “It feels so good- so so good- you’re fucking me so good.” A gasp leaves your lips as they thrust together at the exact same time. “Now what do you say hm? It was kind of us to fuck you.”
“Thank you!” You cry, head falling again. You chant it as they thrust into you. “That’s a good girl.” He chuckles.
They last another few minutes, but this time, neither of them pull out. Filling both of your holes up.
They ride out their highs before halting, cocks buried up inside of you still. You’re panting hard, clit throbbing. You don’t know how you’ve taken it or kept up with them to this point.
It’s Soap who lifts you up and carries you to your room. Your thighs shake uncontrollably and he helps you get cleaned up before putting you to bed. He makes sure you’re comfortable. And even when he leaves you alone, he’s still got that same dark look in his eyes.
Maybe you wouldn’t wake up alone.
#call of duty mw2#cod mw2#soap mw2#captain john price#mw2 smut#price mw2#captain price#ghost mw2#johnny soap mactavish#ghost fanfiction#ghost smut#ghost call of duty#simon riley#simon riley x you#simon riley smut#captain johnathan price#price x you#john price x reader#price x reader#cod price#soap smut#cod mw soap#soap mactavish#soap x reader#soap call of duty#soap cod#john soap mactavish#gaz x reader#gaz smut#gaz mw2
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Hi 🥺 can I pretty please ask for a fic with emt!marauders treating and helping reader get through getting stitches? Maybe having a huge fear of needles and they always make her so faint and nauseous so the boys fix up their clumsy girl and coach her through getting them because it’s just the absolute worst time ever?
Hi lovely, thank you for requesting! These always get so long because I get wrapped up in the semantics haha. I don’t think this is an accurate reflection of how things work for paramedics, but for the purposes of fiction we’re gonna ignore that :3
Cw: needles, hospital, mention of nausea
emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 2.1k words
James is murmuring what you imagine to be placations into the side of your head, so quietly you can’t make them out, and you’re doing your best to keep your hand completely still as a nurse cleans the cut on your palm.
Sirius is watching you from beside the small bed with tension written all over him. He’s digging his fingernails into his biceps and looking like he might actually jump the nurse if she makes a wrong move.
“Where’s Remus?” he asks, not for the first time.
“He’s just finishing up with another patient,” she answers again. “He’ll be here shortly.”
As eager as you are to see your boyfriend, dread curls like vines around your ribcage. James, sensing this, presses his lips to your temple.
Ordinarily, paramedics don’t handle stitches, but at your request and after some sweet-talking on James’ part, the director agreed to let Remus see to you. What was staunchly not allowed, however, was for anyone not currently on shift to step in, so your remaining two boyfriends are stuck providing emotional support. James seems to be taking this better, whereas Sirius has been antsy and overprotective since you’d arrived.
A fraction of the tautness in his biceps dissipates when a familiar set of quick footsteps draws closer on the tiled floor outside your curtain. The nurse is the only one who doesn’t seem to notice, the three of you perking up like meerkats the moment before Remus pulls back the curtain, stepping inside.
“Hi,” he says, a small, automatic smile curving his lips at the sight of all of you.
The nurse finishes with perfect timing, tossing the wipe into the trash as she starts to leave. You and Remus both thank her, and once the curtain closes the four of you in together everything feels suddenly more right. You hear James sigh softly.
Remus gets closer than he was willing with a colleague present, wrapping a kind hand around your elbow and soothing upward from there. “Hi, darling,” he says again, softer now. “They tell me you’ve had a kitchen accident.”
“Totally intentional,” James jokes. “We all just really missed you, needed an excuse to visit.”
You try to laugh for his sake, and though it’s not fully felt it still helps to loosen the knot of unease in your chest.
Remus smiles gently. His thumb strokes up and down the back of your arm. “How are you doing?” he asks you.
You do your best to smile back at him, though from Sirius’ expression it must not be very good. “Honestly? I already feel kind of nauseous.”
“That’s okay,” he promises, and you can tell he’s making his voice extra low and smooth on purpose. Any other time you might laugh at him for it, but actually it’s quite helpful. “It makes sense to be a bit nervous, yeah? But you won’t feel anything, and so long as you don’t look at it while I’m working I think we’ll be all right.”
Remus looks you in the eyes for a moment longer to make sure you understand. His eyes are the color of tea steeped just the way you like it, warm and honey-sweet. And maybe you’re feeling vulnerable and mushy, but you think you fall a little more in love with him.
You nod, letting him take your injured hand.
“I have to numb it,” he warns you, “and that will likely be the hardest part, but once it’s done things will go fairly easily. Okay?”
You press your lips together, nodding again not because you want to but because you know you don’t have much choice. James readjusts his hold on you, gripping you tightly with one arm around your shoulders and the other folding your head into his chest. You suspect it’s partly to keep you from moving and partly because he knows you need it, but it feels as though he’s just doing his best to give you a continual hug. You appreciate the effort.
You follow the movement of Remus’ hand as he picks up a syringe from the tray the nurse had brought in. There’s that odd tingly feeling of the blood draining from your face, the awful queasiness in your stomach.
“Don’t look,” Sirius tells you, voice just as caring as it is tense. You can tell he’s trying to calm himself for your sake, even if he’s not very good at it. You’ve heard from James and Remus that he’s cool as a cucumber when he works with other patients, but when it’s you or someone he cares about he can’t help getting a bit rattled. “You’re okay, baby, just close your eyes. Think of something else.”
You can manage the first but not the second. When you feel Remus shifting his hold on your hand your breaths shallow.
“Quick poke,” he murmurs, and your grip on James tightens as his does on you.
Though you think you’re prepared for it, a mortifying pained sound rises in your throat at the sting. Both James and Sirius coo sympathetically, but then it’s done, and Remus is murmuring praises while James presses kiss after kiss into your hair.
You open your eyes to find Sirius has moved closer. He passes you a vomit bag, and you take it thankfully, trying to breathe through the closure in your throat.
“You’ve got it,” he tells you, brows knit together by both sympathy and concern. “You’re okay, it’s already over with.”
“I don’t really feel like I’m completely out of the woods,” you try to joke. The truth to it tightens something in you nonetheless.
“You won’t even feel the rest,” James assures you, still with his lips stuck to you like it’s his job. He smells nice, his eucalyptus shampoo cutting through the icky hospital scent. “You’ll hardly know it’s happening, lovie, we’ll just talk about other things and be out of here before you know it.”
“I really don’t want to faint,” you say. “I feel like today has been bad enough without fainting.”
“I’m inclined to agree,” says Remus. You’ve been avoiding looking at him, wary of catching sight of another needle or worsening your nausea by seeing your cut, but his gloved hands are empty. He cradles your injured hand in one, the other drawing a tranquilizing path up and down the side of your thigh. “You won’t faint, sweetheart. We’ll do our best to keep you distracted, and if you need to take breaks we can do that. It’s whatever you need.”
You blow out a long breath, nodding. Remus gives you a small smile.
“I only ask that you don’t hold any of this against me,” he teases. “I’m going to require lots of assurance that you’re not upset when I get home.”
James coos, sounding like he’s considering pulling Remus into your hug as well.
“No, I know this is all my own fault,” you admit. Sirius huffs his agreement. “I could never hold my clumsiness against you.”
“I appreciate that.” Remus sends Sirius an intrigued look. “Though maybe I’ll have to make it up to you by cooking, since it seems like you could be barred from the kitchen for some time. Can you feel that?”
You blink at him. “Feel what?”
“Good.”
Remus starts messing with things on the tray again, and both James and Sirius seem to come to attention, James putting his arm around your head again while Sirius pulls up a chair by the bed.
“The medicine’s working,” Remus tells you, “so I’m going to go ahead and get started, okay? Just try and relax for me, sweetheart.”
Your eyes go automatically to what he’s doing, but Sirius says sharply, “Hey.”
That gets your attention, and he gives you an apologetic look, gentling his tone as he takes your good hand.
“Just look at me,” he tells you. You don’t know if he knows it, but his thumb is tracing a line below your thumb that’s exactly where your cut is on your other palm. “Are you okay to talk, pretty girl?”
You hum. It comes out high-pitched and shakier than you would’ve expected.
“Why don’t you tell us about that book you want Remus to read?”
For a moment, surprise eclipses your anxiety. “You really wanna hear about that?”
Sirius grins. “No, but you’ve got a captive audience. If I were you I’d seize my chance.”
You start to smile back at him, but then there’s an odd tugging sensation on your hand. Sirius notices the change, moving to block your view with his hand before you can look towards Remus’ work. Still, your stomach rolls uneasily. Your head feels unnaturally light.
Sirius says your name firmly. “Tell us about the book, baby.”
“It’s…” You fight to solidify your thoughts. “It’s a true story.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I thought it was fiction, but it’s not.” Another tug, and you whimper. “Sorry, I don’t feel well.”
“You’re doing great,” James says, and Sirius takes the bag from you, opening it up in case you need it. “Just stay relaxed, we’ve got you.”
“What’s the true story?” Sirius asks, trying to get you back on task. “What’s it about?”
“This guy,” you answer. “He’s from Syria, but he lives in New Orleans and he’s there when Hurricane Katrina hits. I’m not that far in, but so far it’s about, like—” you swallow “—how he’s discriminated against even when he’s helping people.”
Though you try to stop it, a tear skids down your cheek. Sirius wipes it away gently. “Yeah?” he asks you. “Are you liking it so far?”
You nod, feeling more in your own body as you try to focus on the conversation. Even the panic is a bit of a relief, better than the strange weightlessness of your head when you’re on the brink of passing out.
“I don’t think I would have picked it up if I’d known it was nonfiction,” you tell Sirius. He smiles wryly, which looks like it takes effort. “I usually only read fiction, but this was done really well.”
“I think you’re right,” he replies. “Remus absolutely should read that.”
“Not you?” James teases.
Sirius shoots a mean look over your head, though you can tell he’s relieved at the familiar banter. “Are you volunteering?” he asks James. “No? Didn’t think so.”
“Surely there’s a movie version we can watch instead. Lovie, do you know?”
“I haven’t heard of one,” you admit, “but the book’s a bit older, so maybe the movie came out before I’d heard about it.”
“We’ll have to look it up,” Sirius decides. “If it’s really that good, there’ll be a movie.”
That’s something you could argue about forever, and he knows it, but just then you hear something snip and Remus says, “There.”
“There?” you echo.
Sirius looses a breath, and James hugs you tightly. “You’re all done, angel,” he says brightly.
“Oh.” You feel, perhaps, not as relieved as you ought to, and Sirius chuckles at your confusion, taking your face between his hands and planting a kiss between your brows.
“You really are done,” he promises you. “You killed it, babe.”
James loosens his grip on you and Sirius moves his hand, letting you turn your head to see Remus securing a bandage over your palm. He looks up at you when he pulls off his gloves, pride and fondness mingled in his expression. His eyes narrow at the look on your face.
“Hug?” he guesses, and you nod as you sit forward, wrapping your hands around his shoulders.
It’s the closure you need, relief dissolving the tension in your muscles and gut as Remus’ thumb strokes your nape reassuringly. “Thanks,” you mumble into his shoulder.
“You did it, darling,” he tells you. “Nothing to thank me for.”
“Before I bled all over our counter, I was cutting tomatoes for pasta tonight,” you say. “I’ll finish it up when I get home so I can thank you with dinner.”
Sirius scoffs loudly. “Yeah, fat chance. You’re not going near another knife for the rest of your life.”
You roll your eyes as you pull away from Remus, but he raises an eyebrow at you, smiling faintly. “I’m with him on this one,” he says. “At least a temporary kitchen ban is in order.”
You groan, leaning sideways until your shoulder rests on James’ chest. He wraps his arms around you automatically. “You guys are so lame,” you gripe.
“Don’t worry, lovie,” says James, kissing the side of your nose lightly. “I’ll finish your pasta when we get home. Everybody wins.”
#emt!marauders#emt!marauders x reader#marauders au#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders x fem!reader#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x self insert#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders hurt/comfort#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders scenario#poly!marauders one shot#poly!marauders drabble#poly!marauders blurb#poly!marauders oneshot#james potter#james potter x reader#sirius black#sirius black x reader#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#the marauders#hp marauders
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currently thinking about how Simon Riley loves plans-
Simon Riley! Who plans the day he wants to kiss you, plans out the perfect day of the week and has a plan b in case the weather isn’t right
Simon Riley! Who can go off plan if need be but he is not doing it unless he has to
Simon Riley! Who chose a Friday, because in his brain it made sense ‘give you the weekend’ to think and get back to him on Monday
Simon Riley! Who spent the day as he normally would, watching you as he intended to, taking you to that coffee shop you like and then that bookstore you swore was ‘underrated’ (highest grossing in your town)
Simon Riley! Who planned on carrying all of your book bags so of course he brought that tote you bought for him months ago
Simon Riley! Who planned the time of year so it would be a perfect time to sit in the park and look for butterflies
Simon Riley! Who when the moment finally happened and you were standing before him, a beaming smile on your face- froze
“Si?” You furrow your eyebrows and then move your hand to tap his cheek from over the face mask. He was holding conversation not even five second ago, his hand resting comfortably on your hip (something you were actively leaning into) now it like actually speaking to a ghost. “Simon?”
“Love.”
To the name of endearment you falter and tilt your head, “love what? What do you love?”
“You.”
“oh.” The word was squeaked out and you then nervously, “That’s a choice. I mean you could have your pick from anyone and you choose me? Now don’t get me wrong I’m pretty cool but seriously Simon, you’re what? Six foot twenty nine and you look like you could throw a truck- and I mean you could do a lot better and I’m not meaning to sound down on myself because like I said I’m pretty damn cool but-“
the words got caught in your throat as the next thing you were fully aware of was that he had leaned down ever so slightly to press his lips to yours, silencing your ramble. Aside from the feeling of his chapped lips you felt the plastic cloth against the bridge of your nose, as he had pulled it up rather than down. To say it took you back would be giving him some slack, you were sure the noise you made could be described as a shriek- which quickly died as you melted into it.
Simon Riley! Who planned on it going like that.
#simon riley fanfic#cod x you#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#coco's chaos <3#cod fluff#simon riley imagine#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#Ghost fluff
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seventeens pet name for you
seungcheol
baby
loves to be a caretaker so having you be his baby is natural.
he’s always holding you in his arms, almost like he’s trying to protect you from the world and keep you to himself.
when you’re tired you actually get into baby mode and he loves doting on you, knowing that you won’t fight him on it.
“baby, don’t worry i’ll do that for you”
“baby, come give me a kiss”
“baby, i missed you so much”
“baby, you know i’d do anything for you”
jeonghan
angel
sure, he’s the angel of seventeen but you’re his angel.
always says that you were sent from heaven just for him because of how perfect you are, hence an angel.
when he sees a new picture of you he’ll screenshot it and draw a halo over your head and send it back to you with a text that says ‘your halo is shining so bright, my angel’ (love makes him cheesy)
“angel, let’s stay in bed today”
“angel, can you do my hair?”
“angel, i hope you know im obsessed with you”
“angel, you’re the only one for me”
joshua
love
such a classic and gentle name, just like joshua.
he loves you so much the only word that he can think of when it comes to you is love.
if anyone calls him a simp he will gladly own that title because, duh, you’re his partner! of course he’s gonna simp over you!
will do whatever you want at the drop of a hat. he’ll even suggest cancelling his schedules if you want him to stay home, you decline but quite literally have to push him out the door to leave.
“love, come cuddle with me”
“love, i hate every second that i’m away from you”
“love, let’s get matching outfits”
“my love, you’re so perfect”
jun
sweetheart
actually spent a lot of time contemplating what your pet name should be. he didn’t want to get it wrong!
tested way too many names over multiple weeks, seeing if they rolled off the tongue, but none of them did.
finally lands on sweetheart, when he says it for the first time he knows he’s found the perfect name.
now he barely says your name, saying that sweetheart encapsulates your entire being.
“sweetheart, want me to do the dishes?”
“sweetheart, can you read me a story?”
“sweetheart, do you know how much i love you?”
“sweetheart, you’re my favorite person of all time”
soonyoung
honey
soonyoung thinks you’re sweet like honey, so he just has to call you that!
you have the same nickname for him which results in all your friends pretending to gag when you both start calling each other honey. they say it’s sickening, sickeningly sweet
likes to dote on you, would wait on hand and foot if you told him to.
“honey, do you need anything before i leave?”
“honey, i’m home!” (his favorite phrase)
“honey, let’s go on a date tonight”
“honey, you’re the sweetest person in the world”
wonwoo
babe
has always thought that pet names were cringe but when you started calling him every sweet name under the sun he knew he had to come up with one for you.
landed on the classic ‘babe’, he says it flows well, its natural when he’s talking to you now.
doesn’t want anyone else to hear him call you it, so he usually sticks to saying it at home or whispering it to you.
“babe, stay by my side, i don’t want anything happening to you”
“babe, don’t get up yet it’s too early”
“babe, you wanna see my new game?”
“babe, i adore you”
jihoon
baby
another natural caretaker, loves to be the big strong man in the relationship so naturally you’re his baby.
gets salty when you try to dote on him since he knows he should be doing it to you instead.
landed on it because you were pouting once and he said the resemblance to a baby was uncanny.
“baby, you don’t have to stay at the studio with me”
“baby, get some sleep”
“baby, let’s stay in tonight”
“baby, i know i don’t show it as much as i should, but i’m eternally grateful for you”
minghao
darling
claims that their song ‘darling’ is about you to try and make it special (it was just a coincidence but you’ll take it)
says you’re like a sparkling jewel, so perfect, so enchanting, and so darling
always talks to you in the most endearing tone, he can never be mad at you.
“darling, what do you want to have for dinner?”
“darling, let me take a picture of you”
“darling, don’t forget to call me on your break”
“darling, you’re so precious to me”
mingyu
sweetie
loves to bake you desserts and say something like ‘a sweet for my sweetie’.
thinks you’re so sweet and lovely that sweetie is a given name for you.
food is his love language so he’s always making you meals and sweet desserts.
“sweetie, try this new dish i made”
“sweetie, give me a kiss before you go”
“sweetie, give me a bite of that”
“sweetie, you’re it for me”
seokmin
love/lovie
this man is simply obsessed with, so so utterly in love, hence the name love.
everyone swears they can see hearts in his eyes when he looks at you or talks about you.
couldn’t think of a good name for you so he went to his friends being like ‘i’m so in love with them but i can’t think of a pet name! wait… love!’
“lovie, don’t forget about me :(” (you’re just going to work for the day)
“love, do you want to come to karaoke night?”
“lovie, i’m your favorite guy, right?”
“my love~, i wrote this song for you, wanna hear it?”
seungkwan
boo
yes, his nickname for you is his last name. no, it’s not weird! he’ll call you mrs./mr. boo because he can’t wait until you have his last name.
when some calls for ‘boo’ you both turn around, thinking it was for you. this just makes you both laugh and look at each other like you had a little inside secret that no one else understood.
he’ll always say it with literal hearts in his eyes.
“boo, have a good day at work”
“my boo~, i miss you”
“boo, do you want to go have a spa night?”
“my boo~, i love you to the ends of the earth”
vernon
babe
also thinks pet names are cringe so he settled on the most obvious and classic one.
but then actually he starts to like it (to his horror), and starts to call you it all the time.
only ever calls you babe now, and will be salty if you call him by his first or middle name.
“babe, get ready i’m taking you on a date”
“babe, i got you a present you’re gonna love it”
“babe, we should get a cat to be the ring bearer at our wedding”
“babe, you know i love you, right?”
chan
honey
you originally started calling chan ‘honey’ first.
he always got so giddy whenever you said it that he decided he was gonna start calling you that too, to make you feel as special as he did.
thinks it the most special name in the world and if anyone makes fun of it he’ll go to war over it.
“honey, let me show you the new dance i learned”
“honey, did you get a haircut? you look beautiful as ever”
“honey, let’s stay in bed today”
“honey, you’re my everything”
#seventeen imagine#seventeen fluff#seventeen x reader#svt fluff#svt imagine#svt x reader#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenario#svt imagines#svt scenario#mingyu x reader#wonwoo x reader#vernon x reader#seungkwan x reader#joshua x reader#wonwoo fluff#mingyu fluff#seventeen
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'cause i don't think that they'd understand || ln4 x reader (Part 1)
Summary: Lando just wants to walk down to the garage before the Miami race with you by his side. George and Carmen walked in together, Alex and Lily walked in together, so why can't you, as well? Despite your self-consciousness, you agree to walk hand-in-hand with him down to the garage right before the big race, but it's a much harder ask for you than anyone could ever realize.
Plus-size (she/her) Reader x Lando Norris
Warnings: Brief mentions of nausea/being sick, panic, reader is plus-sized and very down on herself about it, weight mentions, ect.
Characters: Lando Norris (your boyfriend) and feat Oscar Piastri as a last minute saving grace for you.
Rating: G, for now.
“I want you to walk down to the garage with me.”
You blink in surprise, Lando’s words are so sudden and so firm that it makes goosebumps raise on your skin. Walk to the garage with him? But that would mean…
“What? Why?” you ask, folding down the page in the book you’re reading, before placing it down softly on the table beside you. A slugging, churning feeling arises in your gut as you realize exactly what it is he’s asking of you.
“What do you mean ‘why’? You’re my girlfriend, I want you to walk with me into the garage.” He says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And, perhaps, for any other woman in this world it might just be.
But it isn’t for you. This is quite possibly one of the most difficult things he could ever ask you to do, and that alone makes you feel horrible. Lando deserves a normal girlfriend, who can react normally to very normal situations. Not someone who makes his life even more difficult than it already is.
You sigh heavily, knowing if you refuse you will just upset him. “I - are you sure you want to be seen with me? People will talk and they won’t be nice…”
“Babe, we’ve had this conversation before. Just one walk down to the garage with me, that’s all I’m asking.”
You frown again, daring to look up and meet his gaze. He doesn’t seem angry, but there’s a desperation in his eyes, something that tugs at your heartstrings. What Lando doesn’t realize is that the backlash won’t fall too heavily on him - but on you…?
Oh, the fans and the media will eat you up. Lando is dating a fat girl? That will decorate the tabloid headlines for days, perhaps even weeks or months. The thought alone makes you sick. But how can you say no to him when he’s so earnest, when he wants to show you off, regardless if you deserve it or not?
“Yeah, okay.” You finally reply, looking away from Lando and down to the floor. He notices this, however, and kneels down in front of you, grabbing one of your hands in both of his own. His hands are so warm and so immediately comforting, working to ease the rapid beat of your heart in your chest.
“It’ll be okay. I promise. And just think, you’ll finally be able to come see the garage and paddock!” His voice is so cheerful, so genuinely happy and excited for you to be there with him. It’s touching, to say the least, but you are loath to admit that your excitement level is not nearly on par with his. Not even slightly.
“Yeah, I know. I’ve wanted to see them for so long.” The lack of enthusiasm in your voice does dull the excitement in his eyes, but he holds steady. Admirable, really. A trait you wish you could share with him.
“It’s almost time. Why don’t you go ahead and get ready, and we can walk down in about an hour?”
An hour? Well - here’s hoping you can actually make yourself look even somewhat presentable in such a short amount of time.
“You’ll help me pick out my dress, right?” you ask.
The light immediately comes back to his eyes, and he beams at you with the very same smile that won your heart the night you met him.
“Of course! Fashion show time!”
~~
Lando ends up picking the teal colored sundress, something that suits your taste and simultaneously compliments some of your key features. It fits well, with no need for you to suck in your stomach to make it look nicer or more appealing, and hides some of your less than desirable attributes (the rolls, god, the rolls) with ease.
You feel comfortable enough, with only a light amount of makeup on your face, and your feet are settled into white flats instead of the heels you had originally picked out. Lando liked them as well, but urged you to go for something more comfortable and carefree.
You genuinely do feel okay, but the bitter taste of anxiety still stirs the acid of your stomach as you think about the amount of eyes that will be on you and Lando in a few moments.
“Hey beautiful,” Lando says, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. On instinct, you suck in your stomach to try and lessen the circumference of your belly. Lando tenses, but he doesn’t push the issue, keeping you nestled safely in his arms as he presses a kiss to the back of your neck. “You just about ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” you reply softly, leaning only a portion of your weight back against him. He doesn’t let go for a few moments, and you can feel the warmth of his breath against the shell of your ear.
“I’m proud of you. I know you’re scared, and I know you’re only doing this for me, but I hope you can manage to enjoy it as well. You may not want the world to know you’re mine, but I do.” Lando explains, nipping at your ear with gentle teeth. It sends a shiver down your spine, and you cannot help but smile at his antics.
“Well, we’ll see what all the news sources are saying in the morning. You know for a fact my issue isn’t being seen with you, it’s you being seen with me.”
“Who cares what they say? How I feel about you is what matters, not what the public thinks about a relationship they know nothing about.” Lando’s voice is firm and leaves no room for argument - likely because this IS an argument the two of you have had time and time again.
You open your mouth to respond, but Lando’s PR Agent gestures a bit frantically at you both and all of a sudden, Lando is no longer behind you but at your side, lacing your fingers together.
“Deep breath, babe. It’s go time.”
Oh.
You take a deep breath and hold it in your lungs, fearful that if you breathe at all, you might mess this up entirely. Lando’s hand is warm and firm in your own, steady while your mentality feels anything but. There’s no time to prepare yourself for the walk - Lando is moving and on instinct, you move fluidly alongside him. Your heart is racing impossibly hard in your chest and somehow only gets faster as you step out onto the grass and the sun shines down upon you and Lando like a blinding spotlight.
You hear the clicking of cameras before you see the media snapping shots of you and Lando as you walk hand-in-hand towards the McLaren garage. You can already hear the shouts of fans at home, screaming about how Lando could possibly be dating someone so fat and unattractive when he’s literally a celebrity and could have anyone he wanted. You can see the offensive articles, wondering what’s gone wrong in Lando’s head to be dating someone so average and so unathletic when all of the other drivers are dating what could be (and in some cases ARE) models.
So many eyes are on you both, and you still haven’t been able to take a breath just yet. You feel Lando’s hand squeeze yours, but you are unable to squeeze back. You just want to be at the garage and tucked back away from the eyes of the media so you can regain your bearings.
And then finally, after what feels like a marathon of a walk, you feel the grass turn to solid ground beneath your feet and the smells of the garage hit your senses like a brick wall. Everything slowly comes back into focus and you realize you’ve finally made it to the other side. Your gut is churning, but you let out the breath you have been holding since you took your first step out and it eases some of the bubbling tension in your chest.
Lando’s hand leaves yours fairly suddenly, but he immediately pops up in your line of sight, beaming at you like you’ve just handed him the sun, the moon, and all the stars. You swallow thickly, hoping to keep down the nausea that threatens you, and offer up a tight smile of your own.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He asks, pulling you in by your waist and pressing a kiss to your forehead. You are still within sight of the media cameras and you hear a few clicking somewhere off to your right, which does little to help quell the nausea.
“It was fine, yeah.” You say, and it’s incredible just how weak your own voice sounds. “Can we, uh - can we go someplace in the back for a minute? Away from the cameras?”
“Of course,” Lando says, and concern begins to blossom on his features. His eyebrows furrow, gaze focused solely on you as you still try your best to smile at him. “I have to get changed into my kit anyway.”
Lando’s hand is back in yours instantly, and he gently guides you through crew members and winding hallways until you’re far enough away from all of the commotion that you can barely hear it anymore. Your breath is shaky as you inhale, but the relief is almost immediate now that you are out of the public eye.
“Are you okay?” Lando asks after a few seconds of studying your face. “I’m sorry, that was too much, wasn’t it?”
“No, no, no.” you interrupt him, taking another deep breath and letting it out slowly. “It’s just a lot. I’m not used to these kinds of things, not like you are. And there were so many cameras…”
“You learn to ignore the cameras.” He says, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Try not to worry about them, they’re just an annoyance anyway. You’re here to watch me race, and I promise you the McLaren crew will take great care of you while you do.”
Your smile feels a bit more genuine now as the nerves begin to drift off. You know you’ll have cameras in your face likely the entire time Lando is racing, but knowing that you have the support of McLaren while you’re here helps a bit. Lando has been with these people for years now, you can only imagine they’ve grown quite close in that time.
“I’m sure they will. I - uh - is there a bathroom back here somewhere?” You look around a bit frantically, overcome by the sudden intense nausea that hits you now that the worst of the nerves have tapered off. Sweat builds on your forehead and you begin to feel a bit clammy and lightheaded, but Lando either doesn’t notice, or you’ve managed to keep yourself steady enough as to not rouse suspicion.
“Oh, yeah, I’ll take you there,” he says, looking around to gain his bearings. He circles his fingers around your wrist and leads you back towards the heart of the garage, but stops before you get to the more heavily trafficked areas. It’s a small, unassuming restroom meant for one person at a time, but it will do. “Here you are. I actually need to change, so I’ll come back for you once I’m set up, okay?”
“Sounds good.” You confirm, leaning in to kiss him when you see him do the same. He offers you a comforting smile and then takes off into the clamor of the garage to get himself ready for the race. You watch him weave through crowds of crew and media personnel, and once he’s no longer within your sight, you turn around and rush into the bathroom without a moment to spare.
The nausea is almost overpowering, and you can’t even make it to the toilet before you feel your stomach rolling. You grasp desperately at the vanity, emptying your nerves into the sink with a violent heave and a shudder. Panic is starting to claw its way up your throat now that you’ve been sick, and you grip the sides of the vanity so tightly that your knuckles turn white. The nausea, thankfully, goes away now that you’ve emptied your stomach into the sink, but a much worse feeling creeps up to take its place.
You reach forward with trembling hands and turn on the sink, cleaning out the mess you’ve just made. Thankfully, a few splashes of water around the sink (and a few swishes in your mouth) manage to clean out everything so there’s no evidence left of your struggle.
You back yourself against the wall now, feeling your heart beating faster all over again, and the sweat begins to feel cold on your forehead. Panic is no new sensation, but you can’t help but curse the timing of this attack. It makes sense - given the overstimulation and the nervousness you just fought your way through, but you had hoped deep in your heart that you would be able to handle this without a breakdown.
You could not have been more wrong.
You begin to take deep, shuddering breaths at far too rapid a pace. You know you have to get your breathing under control, or this will spiral until you’re pathetically hyperventilating alone in a McLaren bathroom. You rush forward to turn the water back on, hoping that splashing some on your face might help snap you out of it, when you hear the handle of the restroom door jiggle.
Your stomach lurches again when you realize in your haste, you forgot to lock the door.
“Yeah, mate. I’ll be back in a few.” You hear a familiar voice say, muffled slightly by the noise buzzing around the garage.
As soon as the person steps inside the restroom and your eyes meet, you feel like you could be sick again. It’s none other than Oscar Piastri, Lando’s teammate and friend at McLaren, and he’s staring at you with wide, concerned eyes.
“Hey,” he greets, and it’s so incredibly soft - as if he might be speaking to a cornered, wounded animal. “Hey, are you alright?”
You can’t reply to him just yet - your breathing is out of control and nausea is hitting you again from the depths of absolute hell. As if this day couldn’t have possibly gotten any worse, you WOULD have a mental breakdown in front of Lando’s teammate.
You simply stare back at him in shock, like he’s the most terrifying thing you could possibly see, and you finally manage to choke out a weak and pitiful, “No.”
You watch as Oscar gently locks the door behind you both - a blessing, really, to keep anyone else from walking in on you in such an embarrassing state. He keeps his expression neutral, only taking one step into the bathroom with his hands palm-up to show he means no harm.
“You need to breathe, okay? Think you can breathe with me?” Oscar asks, his voice echoing in the small space. He swallows thickly, another sound that’s easy to pick up in the confined space, but he patiently waits for you to respond.
“I don’t - I don’t know -” you reply, hands slapping against the wall as you try to find something to grip onto for balance. “I don’t know.”
“Why don’t we give it a try, at least?” Oscar tries again, looking far more concerned than you think he has any right to be. He hardly knows you, after all.
“I - I can -” but the words die on your lips as your legs give out beneath you. You fall to your knees on the tile floor and that’s when Oscar jumps quickly into action. You feel unfamiliar arms wrap around your shoulders, a cushion to keep your head from smashing against the floor, and the last thing you see are Oscar’s frightened eyes above you, the echo of your name frantically erupting from the back of his throat as your vision fades out.
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#x reader#f1 fanfic#formula 1 fanfic#x reader fanfic#f1 x reader#plus sized reader#driver x reader#hides my face under all these tags#this is my first ever x reader so be kind thanks
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how do you think ak!jay likes to be hugged (i miss him)
I'm about to yap a lot for this one so strap in.
I personally think that Jason wouldn't exactly be used to hugs even before he was tortured. Physical attention wasn't something he was given that much as a child, and he's way used to touch being a negative instead of a positive. His short time with Bruce probably helped him accept that touch wasn't a negative thing until the Joker ruined it all.
After Arkham Knight, Jason would not be able to properly stomach any kind of physical contact. He's been tortured, beaten, and is at his lowest point. Jason doesn't even feel human at this point because after everything he can only see himself as a shell of who he once was. The littlest things are a trigger to him. Something as simple as a pat on the shoulder makes him want to claw at his own skin.
Jason's S/O would need to be very patient at first. Physical affection is a concept that has been tainted for him. He's trying hard to get used to your gentle touches because he wants to be with you. Jason doesn't want you to be with someone that can barely take care of themselves. Jason wants you to be with a person instead of the ghost that he perceives himself as.
Jason heals and slowly but surely, he leans into your hugs. Now to actually answer the question sorry for going on that long ass tangent
At first, Jason's hugs would feel like hugging a statue. Very stiff and he barely moves a muscle. That stiffness slowly melts away the more he heals. And when this man hugs believe me, he HUGS. Jason is starved of affection, and he feels safe in your around. When he hugs you it's always firm but gentle. Jason wants to make you feel safe in his arms like how your presence makes him feel safe. Snuggling with him would feel like hugging a giant teddy bear. Jason would hold you to his chest while his fingers would either rub your back or play with your hair. Of course, there are always those hugs where he picks you up and spins you around. Jason's hugs would be so tight and so warm.
Jason is a forehead kisser and anyone who says otherwise is wrong. After every hug he's give you a big smooch on the forehead.
Hear me out on this next part.
Little spoon Jason.
HEAR ME OUT PLEASE!!
Yeah, he prefers to be big spoon. But Jason would melt whenever you hold him. Just imagine the realization that Jason is being held hitting him and he just leans into the hug. He would bury his face into your shoulder and let out the most content sigh. Love, security, and warmth are all things he can find in your arms.
Jason would love it if you held him before he fell asleep. His face would be pressed against your chest as he listens to your heartbeat. The rhythm of your heartbeat would help him fall asleep because it's just comforting to know that your still there. He relaxes as soon as you brush your fingers through his hair. Or even hearing you talk is enough to make him unwind.
There's something so sweet about Jason letting himself be held idk what it is
#jason todd#arkham knight#jason todd x reader#mazzy responds to krash#dc comics#jason todd x you#arkham knight x reader#jason todd imagine#I NEED TO HOLD HIM IN MY ARMS#ARKHAM KNIGHT JASON COME HOME (he hasn't made an appearance sense 2015)
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au where vaggie has another little secret she didn't even know was a secret still (spoiler it's Mortality) (spoiler charlie Isn't Happy) and when she sits down with charlie for a hotel talk it goees like (TRAUMATIC EMOTIONAL SPEED RUN AAAAHAHAHA)
Vaggie: "Alright sweetie, the hotel's going good so far, one soul redeemed, minimal fire damage this week, so we should probably start planning for the next hundred years of operations."
Charlie: "YAY!!! Planning planning planning~ What's first on the list??"
Vaggie: "Start looking for a replacement manager."
Charlie: "You don't wanna keep being manager? OH- we can be CO-FOUNDERS together! WE COULD HAVE A PARTY FOR IT! And plan for the next one too- Charlie and Vaggie's centennial wow the hotel is still here celebration...!"
Vaggie: "That's sweet, but I'll be dead by then either way, so we still need to deal with the staffing shortage before then."
Charlie: "....dead... tired?"
Vaggie: "Dead as in dead. Doornail style."
Charlie: "What?"
Vaggie: "Expired. Shit, when did we last check the hotel fridge..."
Charlie: "Vaggie wait, I'm, I'm not hearing you right, what are you saying?"
Vaggie: "Heaven born don't live forever? Especially not down in hell, turns out."
Charlie: "I don't understand."
Vaggie: (chuckles) "Sweetie, thanks for ignoring my eyebags and zombie groans while getting out of bed in the morning- but my wings are already GREY, for fuck's sake."
Charlie: "Yes they're, grey. Beautiful and- aren't they supposed to be-?"
Vaggie: "And I'm pretty sure it's not just from the stress of running a business for a few months. Being hotel manager isn't that hard."
Vaggie: "....Mostly. Compared to, some things...." (sigh)
Vaggie: "Think anyone would believe that if we put it in the want ad?"
Charlie: "But-"
Vaggie: "No buts. We really need to get a head start on this."
Charlie: "....but you're a winner."
Vaggie: (SNORTS) "In my dating life, yeah. Anyway-"
Charlie: "But none of the other exorcists' wings are grey! So, so THEY aren't aging- so YOU aren't aging!!"
Vaggie: "They've got halos to protect them from the whole physically getting old thing-"
Charlie: "Halos???"
Vaggie: "-so we- they- can keep fit and ready for fighting our- THEIR whole lives, but duh we don't live forever. Lute and Adam left me here to die, not chill for all eternity."
Charlie: "Wh.. but-"
Vaggie: "Can you imagine how much heaven would've freaked if one of their actually immortal souls had gotten killed down here in hell...? But it was just one of us Adam's girls, and it was up to him to deal with it. With more murder. Bastard."
Charlie: "...."
Vaggie: "Uh.... Charlie?"
Charlie: "....your mortal?"
Vaggie: "I'm, yeah.... wait, Charlie..."
Vaggie: "...people know that about exorcists, right? You didn't... think heaven would risk putting winners in their rank and file army and send them down to hell?"
Charlie: "I thought you were a sinner."
Vaggie: "Hostia- right. I keep forgetting, they don't get old do they?"
Charlie: "Sinners don't. They get killed but they don't just. Die."
Vaggie: "I'm sorry. I thought- I really should've told you-"
Charlie: "Angels aren't supposed to die either."
Vaggie: "We did a good job proving that wrong. Exhibit A, Adam's corpse."
Charlie: "He was KILLED- it's not the same!"
Vaggie: "And angels aren't the same either. There's a lot of different kinds in creation- most of us aren't in the higher orders, there's waaaay more exorcists than seraphim."
Charlie: "But heaven is still supposed to be HEAVEN! People don't DIE in heaven! That wouldn't be Heaven! How could- how could it ever be HAPPY up there if, if- if people still left!?"
Vaggie: "Oh, sweetie... the only people who've earned a heaven like that are the winners. The rest of us are just-"
Charlie: "Just what? JUST, WHAT???"
Vaggie: "We're there to make heaven a good place for them. Keep it running smooth and safe. Mostly it's the higher ups who deal with winners personally, the rest of us stay back and stick to our jobs, try to keep some distance so no one... gets too attached... shit that sounded a lot less fucked up before I said it out loud-"
Vaggie: "Look- it's like that with hellborn too isn't it? The imps and hellhounds and-"
Charlie: "NO! YES? But this is HELL! Of course it hurts and isn't fair! You're not FROM hell it's not supposed to BE like that for you!"
Vaggie: "Or for my girlfriend."
Charlie: "I'm not the one who's dying!"
Vaggie: "You're kinda freaking-"
Charlie: "IM NOT FREAKING OUT!!"
Vaggie: "Right. I meant, you should've had more warning. I'm sorry I didn't say... I wasn't thinking that far ahead."
Charlie: "WELL I WAS! And I'm not- we're not losing that."
Vaggie: "Charlie-"
Charlie: "We're getting you your halo back."
Vaggie: "Pretty sure it's already been recycled-"
Charlie: "THEN WE'RE FINDING ONE FROM ONE OF THE DEAD EXORCISTS and you are WEARING IT until we FIX THIS."
Vaggie: "Sweetie- heaven collected all the halos from our battle-"
Charlie: "They didn't pick up all the spears and stuff, maybe they also missed-"
Vaggie: "No they wouldn't have. Halos aren't, they're not like the weapons. Heaven doesn't care if sinners kill each other with some left behind divine steel, but a halo? They store and conduct heavenly power or whatever. No one's gonna leave one of them lying around."
Charlie: "Fine. FINE- let me think-"
Vaggie: "Can we think less and focus more on you not shaking like a damn leaf first? C'mon, sit down-"
Charlie: "-the angel Carmilla killed. We'll use that one."
Vaggie: "We could use a deep breath right now."
Charlie: "It's head was missing when heaven picked up the body."
Vaggie: "Yeah? An Overlord probably has it hanging on their wall, big whoop, Charlie please slow down-"
Charlie: "If it's head was left behind then maybe it's halo was too! If we find the Overlord-"
Vaggie: "No. No more deals with Overlords."
Charlie: "I'll make as many damn deals with them as I want!"
Vaggie: "But not for ME, alright! If it's about me then you don't get to sell your fucking soul! Or bind it or whatever! You can't make me be the reason for that!"
Charlie: "Vaggie- we NEED that halo."
Vaggie: "No we don't. I don't."
Charlie: "You're dying without it!"
Vaggie: "I KNOW I am. But that's just, life!"
Charlie: "LIFE? Dying so soon isn't-!"
Vaggie: "Charlie, you're half seraphim. You mom was the original demon, your view on life expectancies is kinda skewed."
Charlie: "You said the halos let you live longer!"
Vaggie: "I said they keep us young. It's not the same thing."
Charlie: "It's still SOMETHING!"
Vaggie: "We don't even know that would help at this point, I've been in hell for years-"
Charlie: "Oh so we shouldn't even try!? Just, sit back and go 'well we haven't don't anything to stop this but I guess it was just completely unavoidable'-"
Vaggie: "It probably WON'T help. No, listen- It worked up in heaven and for short runs down here- that doesn't mean it'd have any power to draw on in hell. It's probably just a fancy looking hoop down here."
Charlie: "Then we'll get you back to heaven until we can make it work."
Vaggie: "I'm not going back to fucking heaven!"
Charlie: "AND I'M NOT LETTING YOU STAY HERE AND DIE!"
Vaggie: "You can't kick me out- this is OUR hotel, not just yours."
Charlie: "YOU- you-"
Vaggie: "We need. To calm down."
Charlie: "CALM DOWN! Every second you spend down here your body is-"
Vaggie: "Not dying anytime soon, okay? I'm fine. This whole talk has gone way too far way, way to fast. That's my fault for not thinking about all this sooner, but. Just. Take a breath. Let's just take a breath, take a break, and come back to this when we're both had a moment."
Charlie: "....."
Charlie: "Did you plan all this."
Vaggie: "What?"
Charlie: "Owning the hotel together. Making sure you couldn't be forced out of hell."
Vaggie: "That's not why we started the hotel-"
Charlie: "No, that's not what I was thinking when we started it. But were you?"
Vaggie: "Charlie... you're connecting dots that aren't there..."
Charlie: "You're here. You're here and dying and don't want to leave."
Vaggie: "I'd be dying up in heaven too."
Charlie: "But your wings wouldn't already be GREY, would they?"
Vaggie: "They'd still be an exorcist's wings, if I'd never left-"
Charlie: "Well they're not anymore and going back wouldn't change that. All it would do is help you stay alive."
Vaggie: "I don't want that life."
Charlie: "It's that or die."
Vaggie: "You're being dramatic-"
Charlie: "You've always said you liked that about me. Was that a lie too?"
Vaggie: "No."
Charlie: "Do you want to die, Vaggie?"
Vaggie: "Of course I don't- I could've just let Lute-"
Charlie: "Die, not be killed. Does it make you feel better about all the people you've killed? You'll die and join them, sooner rather than later?"
Vaggie: "......."
Vaggie: "... I want. To spend my life. With you."
Charlie: "No you don't." (voice cracking) "You can't do that when you're dead."
Vaggie: "That's not my fault."
Charlie: "Your choice though, right?"
Vaggie: "It’s not same thing-"
Charlie: "Yes it is. You want to be one who leaves."
Vaggie: "....... wouldn't you?"
Charlie: "...."
Vaggie: "..."
Charlie: "I don't.... want it to b- be like this."
Vaggie: "I know."
Charlie: "I want US! Not like this."
Vaggie: "I know, sweetie, I know... I'm so sorry-"
Charlie: "Stop it." (muffled in vaggie's hair) "You don't want this either, stop apologizing for it!"
Vaggie: "... I shouldn't have let you think, it could be different."
Charlie: "...."
Charlie: "It will be."
Vaggie: "Okay. Denial, that's a, normal step in-"
Charlie: "No- It WILL BE. I- We going to- we'll MAKE it different."
Vaggie: "I don't think we can..."
Charlie: "We will."
Vaggie: "Charlie-"
Charlie: "Damnit just trust me! If we can save a sinner's soul, then we can f-fucking save you."
Vaggie: "....."
Charlie: "Please, Vaggie. Can we try?"
Vaggie: "...it'll be a waste of time."
Charlie: "No it won't."
Vaggie: "We're already not gonna have forever together, sweetie. Why not just. Enjoy what we do have?"
Charlie: "I will! We will."
Charlie: "But we're going to have longer than one century for it."
Vaggie: "Half that, maybe..."
Charlie: "That's not the sound of trying. Vaggie. Please."
Vaggie: "...well... if you're gonna look at me like that about it..."
Charlie: "Don't joke about this."
Vaggie: "I'm not." (smile) "I just know better than to doubt Charlie Morningstar when she gets an idea into her cute, stubborn head."
Charlie: "All my head needs right now is an answer. One word. Clear. Honest."
Vaggie: "... alright. Yes. We can try."
Charlie: "Thank you." (kiss) "Thank you, thank you, thank you..."
Vaggie: "But you have to promise me. No deals. No selling souls- not for my sake, not even a little bit. Got it?"
Charlie: "Why are you so strict about this-"
Vaggie: "Because it's your soul."
Charlie: "-people make deals all the time! YOU made one with-"
Vaggie: "And it creeped me out even though it wasn't with my soul. Do you promise?"
Charlie: "This is a heaven thing isn't it?"
Vaggie: "Do you promise."
Charlie: "...."
Charlie: "I won't make, deals with anyone in hell, to save you."
Vaggie: (breathes out) "Then... we'll start by talking to Carmilla tomorrow."
Charlie: "TOMORROW!? But that-"
Vaggie: "Will give us time to figure out what we actually wanna SAY to Carmilla. She's still an Overlord, Charlie. Any info we give her she'll want to sure to keep her family safe first."
Charlie: "I know the fucking feeling..."
Vaggie: "So we're slowing this down and doing things carefully, so we do them right. Right?"
Charlie: "Right." (grumbling) "Fools rush in- blah blah BLAH."
Vaggie: "That's my girl."
Vaggie: (hesitates) (tentative smooch)
Vaggie: "Feeling better?"
Charlie: "Fine. I wish you'd stop asking ME that."
Vaggie: "Just glad you're not shaking so much anymore. Kinda scared me for a second."
Charlie: "I'm fine." (sighs) (hugs vaggie) "I didn't mean..."
Vaggie: "I didn't mean to scare you, too."
Charlie: "It's fine. You'll be okay."
Vaggie: "Mm. Already am."
Charlie: "And we're NOT looking for a replacement hotel manager."
Vaggie: "We're gonna need-"
Charlie: "NO."
Vaggie: "-okay. We'll hold off on it. We've got time."
Charlie: (holds her closer) (glares at distant light of heaven)
#hazbin hotel#vaggie#charlie morningstar#chaggie#incorrect quotes#angst#vaggie aged wings au#this is what happens when my cat wakes me up after 2 hours sleep with wet sandpaper in the face#i look at vaggie and go#“ok but what if she was dying?what if charlie was about to do something really stupid about it????”#ta-daa
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Have you ever read a fic called A Medication On Railroading? Because I think you'll like it. Basic summery with no spoilers: Jack takes Tim on a trip to Atlanta and then leaves him in Atlanta so he goes train hopping to get home. Very hurt/comfort.
But it also gives me an idea that I'm not sure where to share. What if that wasn't Tim's first time getting home like that? Maybe the first time was just New York when he was say... 9 years old? His parents took him with them to a Gala and Jack thought Janet called him a car home and Janet thought Jack took care of it. Neither one did and Tiny Tim figured out how to get home on his own. It happens again when he's 11 so he already knows what to do, he studied up in case it happened again.
After the second time, anytime Tim is with his parents he keeps his camera bag on him at all times which has 300 dollars in it that he can use on getting home. Tim also discovers during the second one that trains are *way* better than busses and cabs. He's all alone, just him and the scenery and whatever cargo his car holds. He can Fully Relax. He doesn't have to be the perfect heir, he doesn't have to smile for the cameras, he doesn't have to be quiet or good or perfectly polite. He can scream and laugh and cry if he wants to and no one will ever know! He can sing and curse and throw rocks at things! He can be a *kid*.
After Tim becomes Robin, he never calls Batman for a pick up if he's abandoned somewhere and instead will make his own way home. Heck, after some missions with Young Justice he will turn off his trackers and ride trains home so that he can loudly vent about them without having to worry about anyone ever knowing what he said!
This does become a slight problem when he's 17 and Bruce needs him for something and finds out from Bart that their mission ended a day and a half ago. But Tim never called for pick up. And his trackers are all offline. And he never hit his emergency beacon and *no one can find him*. Bruce totally isn't freaking out. The other Bats totally aren't freaking out. Young Justice totally isn't freaking out. There totally isn't a panic spreading through the super hero community about Red Robin maybe being dead I a ditch somewhere and how both Batman and his team will react.
Tim meanwhile is straight vibing as he reclines on a stack of bags of rice like they're pillows, singing along to some sound track he downloaded onto his MP3 player, having turned the volume to max and nearly screaming the lyrics because it's the one time he feels like he can.
Yes! I love that fic you mentioned. It's really really good. Perhaps I should re read it since it's been a minute.
Also, I absolutely adore the little tidbit you've added. A few things to note that I love about it:
No one else knows/finds out until he's Red Robin
It's a semi-decent coping mechanism. He gets to chill out, vibe, and process. He's also in touch with nature and music during this.
Tim drops his various masks to simply exist for a bit
Tim chilling on some rice bags in a train cart with an MP3 player (not even his phone. This indicates he's fully offline during these trips)
A few additional notes to add. One, this could buff up the canon notion that pre-Robin Tim traveled far to go see Dick at the circus and convince him to become Robin again. If Tim had already done that twice unexpectedly, he'd do swell when he actually plans to do it.
Two, Tim probably created a white noise generator or something to give him totally privacy on his "me trips." This is why Kon and Superman freak out. They can't hear him.
Three, he probably gets covered in grime, dust, and dirt. He's no longer in the pristine environment he grew up in.
Gods. That sounds so nice and relaxing. I'm actually kind of jealous. Just the wind, music, and the slowly changing scenery? Fuuuck.
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Hate at first sight - Alhaitham Requested by @isekyaaa
Contains suggestive lines for the sake of a joke
“Tighnari, You know anyone who could translate this?” She brought over the book to him. It was an old book she found while cleaning up her grandpa’s house. A book in a foreign language that her grandpa had forgotten over the years leaving its contents unknown to his family. “It’s supposed to be an heirloom.”
Tighnari looked over the book she had handed to him. A language that was unrecognizable to him but recognizable in that he had seen one of his friends reading a book in what looked to be a similar language. “I know a guy. If you're free tonight you might have a chance to get it translated or at least be pointed in the right direction.”
“Why tonight?"
“Cyno made a new deck again. Your translator should be there.”
“I forgot you have game nights with the General Mahamatra. I shouldn't take up too much of your time. Well as long as this translater of yours is good at their job.”
“He is. Just know he can be a little blunt. Though little may be an understatement. And with Kaveh there, don't be surprised if you see some sort of argument.”
“You're friends must be a lively bunch. Wait Kaveh is the one with blonde hair right? He was the one who was here two weeks ago?” She asked making sure her memory was correct.
“He was. Why?”
“He gave me advice on what rug I should pick. He didn't even see where it would go and gave me perfect advice. I really would like to thank him. My living room actually feels like a separate room even though it's an open floor plan.”
“I'm sure he'll appreciate it.”
-
It was nice to say hello to Cyno even though she didn’t know that super well. Most of her knowledge came from Tighnari mentioning him. But that and the fact she didn’t talk to him much meant that she really didn’t know him. It was entertaining to hear a few of his jokes though. The juxtaposition of the wordplay with how stoic his delivery was may have been the only reason she enjoyed them though.
While Kaveh acted as if he had known her for their entire lives. He was warm and welcoming. But also the moment she thanked him it was like he became a second sun in the room. He was extremely giving, offering to give her home interior design advice any time. It was evident in his face and how he spoke how much he appreciated the thanks even if it was just over what shape of rug to get.
It was enjoyable to be around all three of them. Though as nice as their company was it wasn't the reason she Had followed Tighnari along to his game night With his friends at the tavern. She still had a book in her bag that needed to be translated and there was no translator in sight.
“Tighinari, are you sure your translator is supposed to be here?”
“I’m sure he’ll show.”
“Translator?” Kaveh asked before his smile evaporated away. “You’re here for Al Haitham?”
“That’s a first,” Cyno commented.
“Well, now my translator has a name. But yes.” She pulled the book out of her bag. “My grandpa said it’s a family heirloom but no one in my family can even read it. Tighnari said that he’d be able to translate it for me.”
“At a horrible cost though. You couldn't have just sent her in the direction of the Akademiya?” Kaveh asked, being quite dramatic about the situation.
“I'd rather have someone that Tighnari trusts than some I don't know who. The book is an heirloom after all.”
“It will be fine,” Tighnari reassured, he pointed at the door. “Even then, he’s here.”
Al Haitham made his way over to their table. He sat down at the table already looking annoyed at who knows what.
Tighnari was kinda enough to briefly explain the situation to him along with a basic introduction. Even though Al Haitham had agreed to translate he looked as if Y/N's simple request was asking too much. Maybe a frown was just permanently etched into his face.
Al Haitham held the book looking over the cover. “To count the ways.” He translated the cover before flipping through the pages. His eyes widen skimming through the contents. He looked over at Y/N who looked brimming with excitement to learn what was in the book. “This is just erotica.”
Cyno slowly placed the cards in his hands on the table now fully paying attention to what was unfolding in front of him. Kaveh choked on his wine only for Tighnari to pat his back as he coughed.
Y/N’s face dropped. “It's a heirloom. It’s been in my family longer than my grandpa has been alive. It can’t be. You must be mistranslating it.” She reasoned.
“Your heirloom is in an old form of a Fontaine language. A language I’ve been reading since I was 17. Do you want me to translate it aloud for you?” His words were an insult and a challenge to her.
“If you know it so well then could you give me a real translation.”
Al Haitham rolled his eyes opening the book back up. “Her eyes widen at the sight of his toned chest. In a frantic haze of want she quickly moved to help remove his belt excited to see the sight of his-”
Y/N snatched the book from his hands. Her face was warm with embarrassment. “It was nice talking with you three but I have to go.” She politely excused herself from others before turning to face Al Haitham. “You could drown in a ditch for all I care.”
#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#Al Haitham#Alhaitham#Al Haitham x reader#alhaitham x reader#fem! reader#can you guess i can only deal with him in the group setting of 4ggravate#i do not like this man#he gets on my nerves and i hate that i agree with him so much#yes i have him at level 90 and also would like throw him down the stairs#i will happily take a joke prompt as way to practice other characters as well#though warning they could be out of character#i should have waited till after the new quest as a refresher on how everyone talks
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I know this is basically heresy to the Spock fandom. I know a lot of people will disagree, and fics will continue to do things exactly the way they always have. But I must speak my truth.
Spock is not green.
Spock's blood is green but his skin is best described as sallow. Pale with a yellow undertone.
Likewise humans are not honestly all that pink (no matter what Shran says). But we are more pink than Spock is green. We have a pink undertone, but Spock's undertone is yellow.
I've thought it over: the colors of human blood, with and without oxygen; the colors of copper, oxidized and not; the color of the copper-based blood of horseshoe crabs; the optical qualities of human skin. And I offer an explanation.
If you have a lightish skin tone and you flip your forearm over, you'll see blue veins. Which is why you probably grew up thinking unoxygenated blood is blue. It's actually not; it's purple.
What we're seeing is a scattering effect. You know how the sun shines in the atmosphere, and most of the color comes straight through just fine, but the blue covers the whole sky instead of coming straight down with the rest of the sunlight? That's because our atmosphere lets the other colors straight through (the warm white of the sun as seen from Earth) but scatters blue, making it seem like it's coming from everywhere.
Human skin does the same thing to red. While blue comes straight through, as if the skin were transparent, showing clear-edged veins, red is scattered. You won't see your arteries. Instead you see a pink cast that seems to be coming from everywhere.
Importantly, which colors show through and which are scattered has nothing to do with our blood, and everything to do with the optical properties of our skin.
Back to Spock. Oxidized, his blood is grass green. Which is kind of odd when you think about it. Horseshoe crabs have copper-based blood, and it's blue. When it doesn't have oxygen in it, it's pretty much colorless.
And this is the color of oxidized copper. I wouldn't call it grass green. The proper word is verdigris.
So for Spock's blood to be grass green, there's probably something yellow in it. The plasma, or the white blood cells, or whatever.
Unoxygenated, copper is ... well, copper-colored. Orangey-brown. I'm not sure if it's possible for anyone's blood to ever get fully unoxygenated—cells just aren't that efficient. But if we assume Spock's blood is less green and more orange when unoxygenated, we might expect a yellowish-brown, yellow being the only color in both green and copper.
So we just have to assume Spock's skin has optical qualities which allow yellow through more than green or brown. The yellow is scattered, while visible blood vessels (if Spock has any) might be green or brown.
Yes, I'm arguing that Spock blushes yellowish. His ordinary skin tone would darken. You wouldn't have a whole new color showing up.
None of this implies that Spock's mucus membranes (tongue, gums, internal parts of genitals such as a sheathed penis) wouldn't be green. Without the thick, protective Vulcan skin, a lot more would show through.
I'm just saying, Spock looks pale-to-yellow on the show and I'm okay with that. I think science can justify it. (Alternatively, as SPOCKNALIA argues, Vulcan skin is too thick to show much through it, and the yellow tone is Vulcan melanin.)
However, I may still continue to have Spock blush green just for art's sake, and you can too. The only law of fanfic is that your canon is whatever you say it is.
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it's pretty sad how terfs talk about womanhood as this horrible agonizing burden that no human being could ever enjoy or desire, like, the self hatred is actually soooo tragic.
like, they say trans men just hate being women and trans women are just men mocking women's suffering and plight as women-
and it's like, I know they're fundamentally miserable people. they're terfs. that's self explanatory.
but that in particular just cements it for me.
they're projecting. so. fucking. hard.
they are miserable because they're toxic, bitter, indoctrinated losers who don't have friends, who don't meet new people, or give anyone the benefit of the doubt.
and they have joined a cult that just perpetuates falsehoods and misinformation, and convinces them that women through out all of history have never ever been happy, nor even had the capacity for happiness, not then, nor even today.
and it's like... sweetie.
are you absolutely sure that you feel this way because trans women exist, or is it because you have a series of mental issues that you refuse to acknowledge or work on?
are you sure someone transitioning because it'll make them happy is what's making you miserable, or is the fact that you're deeply unhappy with yourself and you resent seeing other people doing what they want to do?
you can flash your fangs all you like, but I see the look in your eyes, and I can read you like a fucking pamphlet.
you need to get a hobby aside from harassing trans women on Twitter. you need to talk to other people, even if it makes you uncomfortable, because to open your mind and your heart is integral to the human experience, and to human evolution, ultimately too. you need to deal with your SHIT.
but if you can't do any of that.
the best you can do is shut your mouth and keep your damage limited to yourself.
we all have our bad fucking days and mental health issues.
you don't see all of us attacking vulnerable people so we can feel righteous and tall.
get over your mean girl phase please, you're like 35.
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Day 16- first kiss- rulti
Thanks to @forlorn-crows for the prompts and @gothdaddyissues for the divider!
“Dew kisses like he’s trying to suck the air out of my mouth” rain laughed, “I give him points for passion, he’s definitely enthusiastic”
Rains feet are kicked over Swiss’s lap on the love seat. He leans against the armrest idly snacking on a cheap bag of chips while Swiss leans his opposite way against the other rest. They’re comfortable, a soft warmth while they sit with each other just for the sake of talking.
“Mountain looks like he would be better at it” Swiss commented as he tried to count the patterns in the worn fabric of the couch.
“Oh he’s much better, I love dew but I swear mountain could probably make me cum from his lips on mine alone”
Swiss visibly winces at the lewd description. He doesn’t mean to, doesn’t mean to stare at rains legs in his lap as if they’re the most interesting thing in the world. As if the worn sweatpants contained the secrets to his personal dilemma.
“You ok swissy?” Rain stopped, putting his snack on the side coffee table. He dusted off his pants before nudging the multi ghouls stomach with his knee.
“Yeah, completely. Why?”
“You just look uncomfortable, if that was too much I’ll tone it down”
Rain drags himself closer to Swiss, playfully attempting to cuddle into his side while Swiss tries not to look like he’s actually pouting.
“It’s not that, you’re fine”
“Well it’s obviously something, you can tell me anything”
Swiss nervously chewed on his lip, internally debating with him. It’s not like it should be embarrassing, he was new, as everyone else was. But a weird part of him burned with shame even in front of rain, who he knew he could trust.
“I’ve just .. never kissed anyone” Swiss mumbled, pushing rains legs off of him while rain moved sit up straighter.
Rain gave a small chuckle, looking at Swiss with confusion, “really? No one?” Rain asked, in borderline disbelief. It’s not like there was anything wrong with it, but with how confident Swiss acts and how he seems to flirt with anything that walks, rain was more than sure that Swiss had bedded at least half of the pack by now.
It was a bit cute that Swiss seemed so nervous. The usually ever bold ghoul reduced to nervous fidgeting just over rain talking about kissing dew and mountain.
“Yeah it’s stupid, I’m sorry-“
Swiss is quickly cut off by rain reaching up to plant a chaste kiss upon Swiss’ lips. It’s small, barely any movement besides the brush of skin on skin, but rain pulls back with a small wet smack while Swiss stares at him wide eyed.
“There! Now you’ve kissed someone” Swiss’ face quickly reddened while rain gives him a cocky grin at his flustered state. It’s not much, he shouldn’t be at a loss for words but rain tasted like salt and the lemonade that sat next to him and Swiss couldn’t help but feel intoxicated from the couple second interaction.
“I-“
“Yeah?”
“I- it wasn’t long enough I didn’t learn anything, you’ll have to do it again” Swiss squeaked
“You’re an idiot” rain laughed, pulling Swiss back down to kiss him until he’s dizzy.
#short and sweet#writing is hard did yall know that#the band ghost#ghost#nameless ghouls#ghost bc#fanfic#wrath writes#swiss ghoul#rain ghoul
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Change My Mind
SUMMARY: Josh and Alina are great friends most days. Other days, they want to tear each other apart. Some days, they’re in love with each other, but neither of them will admit it.
*DISCLAIMER: This is a multi-part series. I do not own any of the characters in the writing except for the OC. The book also uses the actual names of the wrestlers. Gionna is Liv Morgan, Austin, is Xavier Woods, Josh is Jey Uso, Jon is Jimmy Uso, Trinity is Naomi, Alina is just Alina. The book is not realistic and does not take place during real events, but some actual events could pop up in the story eventually. I DO NOT GIVE ANYONE PERMISSION TO REPOST OR TRANSLATE MY WRITINGS ANYWHERE.*
PAIRING: Jey Uso x Black OC
TROPE: Friends to Lovers
WARNINGS: Language
WORD COUNT: 1,827
PART TWO
PART THREE
“Say, I have a question for you,” Austin says, giving Alina a bright smile. She smiles back at him, a sign of friendliness.
“What’s up?” She asks.
“How does one manage to be as beautiful as you? I mean, you are stunning, whew!” He exclaims. Alina giggles softly at the compliment. She places her arm on the back of the couch, propping herself up on it.
“That’s really sweet to say, Austin, thank you.” She grins.
“No, thank you for blessing me with your presence. I can end the night now knowing I got to talk to you.” She rolls her eyes at his words. She wasn’t sure what he was trying to do and why he suddenly took interest in her, but who was she to be rude? They’ve talked a few times in passing, but it was never for long. “We should get you on UpUpDownDown.” He says. She immediately begins to shake her head.
“I don’t really play video games. I’ve never been good at them.” She answers honestly. To let her come on the show would be a waste of time. She also wasn’t comfortable embarrassing herself like that in front of several people. She has watched a few episodes and knew it was a fun show, but her participating? Not happening.
“I doubt you’re as bad as you say you are.” He assures her.
“I wouldn’t lie to you,” She promises. “I am terrible at games.”
Jon still had an amused grin on his face while he watched the two talk. This man is stupid, he thought. Either Austin was crazy, or he didn’t care. Shit, probably both. “That man is going to kill his ass,” Jon mutters to Trinity.
“That’s on him.” She says, not looking up from her phone. “He warned him.” Jon looks up, catching the moment Josh pauses in his tracks at seeing Austin and Alina talking.
The eldest twin taps his wife’s thigh. “Look, look, look…” He points in Josh’s direction. This was going to be good.
Josh was happily on his way with Alina’s drink until he saw Austin had done the opposite of what he told him. They were sitting close, too close for his liking, and they seemed deep in conversation. Alina would smile at him, and Austin would smile back.
Nothing he says could be worth smiling over like that, he thought. Josh glances down at the drinks in his hand. Just go over there and give her her drink. He’ll move. Don’t cause a scene. It’s nothing, he tells himself.
If jealousy could kill, Josh would be dead ten times over. He craved the attention that everyone else got from Alina. The way she smiles at them, the way she talks to them. He wanted her to do the same to him. Instead, she’s awkward and quiet at times. That was frustrating to him. She never really hints at what goes on in her head. It made him question whether or not he should even feel how he felt. Then he’d see her trying with guys and failing, and it would make him feel some way. He just wanted to make her happy.
Josh sniffles, quickly regaining composure. He resumes his stride over to the group. When he approaches, he holds Alina’s drink out between the chatting pair. He was purposely blocking Austin’s view of her face. Alina turns to look up at him. “Ay, I got your drink.” He says, his eyes fixated on the guy next to her. Alina slowly takes the drink from him.
“Thank you, Josh…” She says.
“No problem.” He says quickly, now slowly swaying from left to right, a sign of impatience.
Alina continued to stare at him, but he would never meet her gaze. No, he was watching Austin, who was smirking at him. “You gonna sit down, Uce?” Jon asks, leaning forward. The elder twin was ready to jump up to stop his brother from doing anything stupid.
“Nah, I’m good.” He says, not breaking his glare. “You good, Uce?” He asks Austin. That was him telling Austin to move. Here he goes, Alina thought. She finally looks away from him, her lips touching the brim of her cup. She slowly tilts the cup back, drinking the cup full with no breaks. It’s going to be a long night. Austin scoffs slightly, his smile still intact.
“You got it.” He says finally, putting his hands up in defeat. He moves back into his previous spot. Josh moves to sit down in his seat.
“Was that necessary?” Alina asks.
He reaches down, grabbing her legs and pulling them between his own. “Yep.” Alina probably shouldn’t have giggled, but the two mixed drinks she shotgunned and tequila shots were beginning to creep up on her. He shouldn’t grab her like that.
“And who are you supposed to be?” She asks. Josh doesn’t answer her. Instead, he takes a swig of the beer in his hand. She places two fingers on his left cheek, forcing him to look at her. She lifts her eyebrows, waiting for a response. One never came. “That’s what I thought.” She drops her hand from his face. They would exchange stares until Josh would glance down at her lips. Lina would suck in a deep breath before inevitably looking away. He shouldn’t look at her like that. “Well, I want another drink.” She mutters to herself. “Who wants drinks?” She asks.
“I do,” Austin chimes in.
Alina moves to stand but is pulled back down to Josh. She plops into his lap, a gasp leaving her lips as she does so. He really shouldn’t grab her like that. “Nah, get someone else to do it.” He says. Alina’s brows furrow at him before she reaches down to remove his hand from her thigh.
“Please, go to hell.” She says, prying his hand off of her.
“Or I can go with you to the bar. How about that?” When she stands, so does he. She doesn’t argue with him, but she does roll her eyes. Alina turned her attention to the group again, only to find them staring at the pair. They weren’t sure what they were seeing. Was it fighting, flirting, or some sick combination of both? “Drinks?” She asks, gesturing to everyone.
“Get me another beer, Uce,” Jon says.
“Vodka Cran for me.” Orders Trinity.
“Two more shots of tequila.” Gionna requests.
“I’ll have a beer too.” Austin adds.
Alina steps around the couch, marching over to the bar. Josh follows behind her, leaving the group once more. Everyone exchanged glances at each other after the exchange. “They get like this every time they drink together,” Jon says, shaking his head. “How long before they fight and get us kicked out?” He asks, looking at Trinity.
“Depends. How many fruity drinks have Alina had?” She asks. It was always the fruity drinks that got poor Alina.
“Just one so far.” Gionna answers.
“It’s that bad?” Austin asks.
“Yes, fool!” Jon exclaims. “That’s why I said leave her alone! Them folks are crazy!” Alina and Josh, with alcohol in their systems, are a match made in Hell. Josh had been drinking since before Alina got to the club. The beer in his hand was his seventh. He had about three more in him before he was at the point of no return. Alina was on her third mixed drink, two of which were fruity. The tequila shots would bring her up to five drinks in total. She swears she has a high tolerance for alcohol, much like Josh does, but doesn’t. Neither of them do.
Separately, they were fine, but together? It’s a whole other story.
Josh follows behind Alina, his pace slower than hers. To him, it seemed she was trying to put space between them. She would tell him he was correct if he had to assume out loud. She shouldn't be turned on by the way he was acting tonight, but here she was, practically foaming at the mouth. Alina makes it to the bar, eyes fixated on the alcohol on the wall before her. The bartender would immediately come to her, ready to take her order. “One tequila sunrise, three beers, and a Vodka Cran.” Alina orders. She turns to Josh, who’s watching her. “I’m forgetting something.”
“Gigi’s shots.” He answers.
“Oh, right! And two tequila shots!” She says, turning to the bartender. The bartender walks away, leaving the couple alone. Josh placed his beer on the bar top and leaned in towards Alina.
“You look good.” He tells her.
She glances at him out of the corner of her eye. “Okay.”
“Here you go.” He huffs, shaking his head at her.
“What do you want me to say? Thank you?”
“Uh, yes? That’s the normal thing to say to compliments, Alina.”
She wasn’t much of a compliments person. It makes her feel like someone wants something from her when she hears them. The people pleaser in her would forever deliver even when she didn’t want to. “Thank you, Joshua.” She says finally.
“You’re trying to be funny.”
“I said thank you!” She says, laughing. Josh places his hand on the barstool behind Alina, blocking her in. After a bit of silence, she turns to him. “You look good too.” She says, leaning into him. The bartender put out her tequila sunrise, and she immediately grabbed it.
Josh glances down at his appearance. “Do I?” She nods. “I put this on for you.” He jokes. Alina would take a sip of her drink, humming softly at it. “Is it good?” Josh asks, leaning into her again.
“Yeah, taste it.” She brings her glass to his lips, all while still holding his gaze. Her stare always made him weak in the knees. All she had to do was look at him, and Josh was under her command. He’d part his lips slightly, allowing the rim of the glass to touch his lips. She’d tilt it back, letting the orange liquid touch his tongue. The taste of Orange Juice came and went quickly. All that was left behind was the strong taste of tequila. Josh pulls his head back. “Yeah?” She asks, lowering her drink.
“Nah,” He says quickly, shaking his head. “That drink is strong as hell.” They both start to laugh. God, they were drunk. Alina leans into his arms, burying her face in his chest. His hand would move from the chair and touch her back. That touch was the catalyst for what was to come. His fingertips would trace her spine, sending shivers along her body. She’d arch towards him, lifting her head to look at him. They were very close, their noses almost touching.
“You shouldn’t touch me like that.” She whispers.
“My bad.” He whispers back. His hand would curl against the small of her back, now closing and opening in a scratching manner. She shakily breathes, her head tilting down to break his gaze. “Lina.” He calls to her.
Ah, fuck it, Alina thought as she pulled his face to hers in a bruising kiss.
NEXT PART
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A/N: So y'all blew the first and second parts of this up...that's cool lol.
Thank you to everyone who is reading this so far! I really do appreciate all the kindness and support I am receiving! It means a lot to me!
Stay tuned for part four!
🏷️list: @paigereeder @wrestlingprincess80 @thesamoanqueen @whatdoeseverybodywant @alichesmi @reci1996 @cyberdejos2 @empressdede @trashbin-nie @meannaim @siriuslycee
#jey uso#jey uso fanfiction#jey uso x black oc#jey uso x oc#wwe fanfiction#wwe fic#main event jey uso
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Lovesick! Doctor x Reader
ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ You need a proper care, Dear ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ
Hi, Coffee speaking! We both got a cold and I wanted to indulge a bit, I also got a little obsession with Lovesick! Wally ngl but I choose to start with the doctor expect me to write for a Lovesick! Patient soon
Hi, Tea speaking! We actually were also saying nonsense about humanized Pepsi (my favorite soda) and 7UP (Coffee's favorite) so yeah (why does my twin drool over a muppet?)
btw, this isn't edited due to Tea still being really sick, so do expect weird sentence structure/words or misspells, sorry in advance, just one twin absorbs all the intelligence in the womb and that was certainly not me/j
tw: this dude shouldn't be a doctor, yandere behavior, drugging, manipulation, kinda paranoia? , reader doesn't know anything is happening, written in you/yours (this is just fiction, I don't really know about medications I just research a bit to write this)
It was only a cold, you just need to go to the doctor to get the certificate and maybe some paracetamol and then leave, easy, isn't it?
As you walk in the hallways of the hospital you turn right, having a hard time trying to find yourself in this big hospital, but it seems like you were right, as you bump into a doctor, your doctor.
"dear? What are you doing here? Here is no place to wander off!"
The panic in his voice is easily noticeable, as if you walk into a horror movie and choose to separate from the group without telling anyone.
“I’m sorry doctor, I just got a little disoriented here and there and ended up here..”
You don’t really get why he reacted like that, it's a hospital anyway, the worst thing that could happen is that you enter into an operating room but there is always a sign on them… I think?
“huh, I see Anyways, don’t worry, it's just that there is no place to wander around, let me guide you towards the other floor again. I will take you in right away, is that cold of yours keep bothering?”
“Yeh, it’s seems like everyday it’s getting worse, I don’t think I could be outside of my house too much without getting a bit dizzy”
You started talking about your recent problems because of your stupid cold that doesn't seem to faze away, the path to his consultory felt shorter than you could remember but well, guess it’s normal that happens when you're focused on talking, isn't it? You choose to just blame your mind and take a seat in the neat room as the doctor talks.
“Seems like the symptoms are getting worse… too much slowly”
“I’m sorry doctor, what did you say? I didn’t really catch the last part”
You say rather chill than you should, the first part was about your cold being worse, isn't it? Well, that’s true, kinda makes you wonder if it really is a cold but not wanting to sound like a hypochondriac, plus, the doctor is peacefully researching something in one of his drawers although you can't really see his face since his back is turned to you.
“Oh, I was just commenting how you are having a really rough time, I was thinking about giving you a different medication before it gets even worse. I would rather if you sit for a little, like 15 to 20 minutes before leaving after taking it, I’m really worried about you, you look lost in thought, it’s doesn't really appear like you are here with me right now…”
Well, what he says is right, your mind seems all over the place these days, good for you to have such an attentive doctor. He hands you a pill and a glass of water.
“This is Benadryl, it's just an allergy medicine, but can give some sleepiness. I ask you to sit and wait because of that, isn’t a real problem feeling sleepy but I want to make sure it doesn’t trigger your dizziness. I change the medication because I think you can have more of an allergy than a cold due to your symptoms that are also not fading away and even getting stronger, you see, it’s normal to find allergies or develop them as you grow..."
As he keeps explaining complex things, you just wonder what to blame if it happens to be the cause of an allergy as you take the pill with the help of the water. You two keep talking peacefully, as you wait for the time to pass, it seems like the doctor was right in seeing it coming that you were gonna get kinda sleepy. Does this doctor not have any other appointment or something?
“Well, and that's about it, any questions?”
You started to feel more tired, your head felt heavy, but well, the doctor warned you about it, so you try to ignore it and wait for it to just pass.
“To be honest, yes, but this is more out of personal curiosity, what was the floor where I was earlier before you found me? It was really empty for a hospital…”
… Are you moving or are things in the room suddenly alive? You get a little surprised and try to stand up to check your own condition without thinking about it though. You feel like you lost your balance, as if all around you is spinning, the doctor is fast to come beside you, ready to grab you if you happen to fall.
“Don’t worry about it, you couldn't see any people because it's a floor for rather special inpatients we deal with. Focus on you now, what’s your name? How many fingers am I holding up?”
You try to fight to keep yourself awake, yet before you could answer his questions, your vision went dark and you finally lost consciousness.
". . ."
He holds you so tenderly, avoiding your unconscious head to get hit and end up with a contusion or something like that.
“Rohypnol is really quick to act, huh? Don’t worry Dear, I will make sure you won’t need to deal with stressful stuff from today on, that would get you here in the end anyways, I’m just avoiding you some pain…”
He gently kisses your forehead before notifying through the phone in the room that someone fainted and will require admission to the hospital.
sorry for any misspellings or weird sentence structure ❣
images from pinterest
#Coffee speaking#yandere doctor#reader insert#yandere#yandere oc x reader#yandere male#yandere imagines#yandere oc#oc#male yandere#yandere writing#yandere scenarios#yandere x reader#random#oblivious reader#yandere x darling#tw drugs#yandere x you#obsessive love#otome#stalker#soft yandere#silly#silly writing#oc x reader#x reader#dark romance#yanderecore#yandere drabble#lovesick
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