#you imagine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yoongis-black-grilfriend · 2 years

Text

Crazy in Love

Summary: You enjoy taking care of a child with your boyfriend, Joe. Since he already had a son, you thought it best to wait to have one of your own. But Joe has other plans…

Warnings: This one is dark loves (beware). Hiding of birth control (and switching them out), Stalking, Jelousy, Forced Breeding, Bondage (handcuffs), Overstimulation, Pentrative Sex, Somnophila, Creampie, Descriptive Sex, and probably some more enjoy!

Y/n, my dear y/n, why must you attract attention everywhere you go? Why must you be so fucking beautiful? I watch as you walk around the Halloween store looking for a costume, and I've noticed that his eyes have been on you since you entered.

Who, you might ask? The clerk. The guy that is supposed to be doing his job instead of eyefucking with my son in your hands. You would think a baby would keep these assholes away, but they don’t. If anything, they make them worse. He must think you're a single mother in need of a man to fuck her because she hasn't been touched in so long.

He's wrong though. John, which I learned from reading his name tag, is so fucking wrong. He is still at his desk, yet it appears he is ready to make a move on you, my love. I walk over in my hat and glasses, feigning an interest in something.

“Hey man, do you know where I can find the masks?” He looks annoyed because he was just a moment away from tapping you on your shoulder and trying to take you away from me, and that is not going to happen. He looks annoyed, but I do not give one single damn.

I see you have found a costume. It's unfortunate that I was occupied with John over here and couldn't see it, but it's okay. I love surprises. You're now making your way home, and that's all that matters. John gives up once he sees you walking out of the store and rolls his eyes, pointing to the back of the store.

Now it is time for me to hurry home. With a smile, I make John's day even worse. “On second thought I think I might go to another store thank you buddy.” And he is off stomping back to his counter. Exiting the store, I enter my car and make my way home, back to you and henry.

The moment I walk through our door, I see you setting Henry in his highchair, getting him ready for lunch. I appreciate and adore you more and more every day because of the way you treat him like your own. As soon as you saw I was in the kitchen, you broke into a wide smile and instantly made my day.

“How was the Halloween store?” Even though I already know the answer, I still want to hear your gentle voice. “It was good, baby. I got us all costumes for your friend's costume party, we're going as the Flinstones.” You said, putting your soft lips in a kiss. I favor the moment as you slip your tongue in my mouth.

The kiss was about to turn into a make-out session until Henry started to babble when he finally spotted me. You break the kiss to look at him with the most perfect timing because your alarm for birth control goes off. You hurry off by giving me a peck on my cheek.

You are such a silly girl. Rushing off to go take your birth control. It’s a shame you don’t know that I have been swapping them out with pills that help you get pregnant. It's all a part of our future and I'm doing this for us.

I have already arranged for this to happen tonight so you can enjoy your last day of not being pregnant because this is definitely going to happen. Henry is almost through eating when you return to the kitchen and seat down next to me.

You pick up where you left off and start to eat the food that you prepared for Henry and yourself. I just can't help but notice how beautiful and breathtaking you look when you put the spoon to your lips, taking a bite out of your creation. The moan you let out when you taste it does something to me, something feral.

With each bite I watch as you lick your lips before they curve around the spoon. And it’s helpless for me to not imagine how they would feel against mine, so impossibly smooth. How velvety your tongue would feel licking up and down my- I am suddenly pulled from my thoughts as you stand to pick up a spoon henry dropped onto the floor. But just as quickly, I go back to them as I watch you bend down. I have to hold myself back from just taking you right there.

You return back to your meal. Once you've finished eating and clearing your dishes, you notice that Henry was done with his food as well. By this time, it was about 5 pm, which meant that Henery needed to be put down for a nap soon. I lift out of my chair, ready to clean him off, but you're always one step ahead of me. You order me to sit down before you take Henry to wash him off to lay him down.

You come back in about 10 minutes with a sheepish smile on your face. “He has been active all day, but I'm going to lay down a little bit. Do you want to come?” you asked me. How could I say no to a face like that? I nodded my head signally that I’ll take a nap with you as we made our way into our shared bedroom. You go to your dresser and I notice how you put on some shorts without any panties.

After you climb into bed and wait for me to join you, I take my shirt off and get into bed next to you, wrap my arms around you, bury your head in my chest, and immediately fall to sleep with light snores escaping your lips. I admire you while you sleep. How could I possibly not? I notice the way your chest rises and down. I can feel your nipples through the thin material of your shirt on my chest. I definitely can't help but notice your leg wrapped around mine. Every now and then you rub yourself against my leg and I feel myself harden under my sweatpants.

I let you sleep for at least an hour before I decide to make my move. I reach over and unlock my drawer, revealing two sets of handcuffs. I slowly push you to lay on your back. I take hold of your wrist and attach one pair to chain your wrist to the headboard before doing the same with the other. Grabbing a condom, I make sure to make as many holes I can with a tack before I turn my attention back to you.

Using my fingertips, I run them over your body as you still lay dead asleep. I pull your shorts to the side and pull my shorts off. I wrap my hands around my cock and fist it a couple of times. Collecting the precum on my fingers, I rub it onto your clit to give you some type of lubrication.

Rolling the condom onto my cock, I move in between your legs and enjoy the last few moments of your sleeping face before I move my cock inside of you slowly. You're still sleeping as I go inch by inch. I trust my hips slightly faster as I hold my groans in, not wanting to wake you up. The pleasure is way too strong right now. Even in your sleep your pussy fits around me like a tight sleeve.

You start to stir in your sleep, letting out a soft whimper. “Fuck”. That was music to my ears as I stroke faster feeling my cock twitch inside of you due to you and your damn walls clenching against me. “Fuck, y/n I could’nt resist, baby. You looked so fucking hot while you were sleeping, I couldn’t help myself,” I say as I notice you have woken up while you stare up at me, holding your moans back with your eyes glossy and mouth wide open.

“Joe, fuck” you whimpered. Your voice drives me to the edge, causing me to release along with you. The milk of my cum and it all going inside of you (little do you know). I pull out quickly, causing you to hiss at the loss of contact, and take the condom off, throwing it in the trash next to our bed. I can hear you breathing deeply as you close your eyes and process the orgasm you just had.

Once more, I slip between your legs and completely bury my cock inside of you. Your hands are raised over your head as you stare up at me, appearing as though your eyes would bulge out of your head. You are so fucking wet that I slip in and out of you quickly because of the ring of cum on my cock. “Baby your fucking me so good,” you say a little loudly. I cover your mouth with my hand as I feel you sob against it, still sensitive from your last orgasm.

Moving my hips faster, I pound into you as you cry. I can feel your tears on my palms and I see them coating your beautiful face. “Lovely, I’m about to cum again, are you with me?" I said, wanting to cum at the same time. You nod against my hand in reply. I detach my palm from your face. “Joe, make sure to pull out okay!” You say with a little desperation. “I will sweetheart don’t worry about it,” I say, knowing that I'm not. You clench around and start to shake as you start cuming on my cock. I can feel the warmth of your cum spread between us as I bottom out and cum so fucking deep inside of you.

“Baby I told you not to cum inside me!” you whine, highly upset, trying to free yourself of the handcuffs. “Calm down my sweet y/n, I have a plan b you can take.” I reassure myself knowing that the “plan b” that I’m going to give you is a sugar pill. We both put on our clothes and head out to check on Henry after I release you from the handcuffs and give you the pill. After seeing that he was okay we lay down and sleep for the rest of the night.

THE NEXT DAY

We at your friend's house and I were dressed as the flintstones as we walked around greeting everyone. You look so beautiful with your costume and carry Henry around in his I can't wait to see you pregnant walking around with Henry letting everyone know that you're mine.

After A while things started to wiehle down and we were all sitting around the couch playing games and watching movies. Until you aburty hand Henery off to one of your friends before you speed walk into the bathroom I follow you because I'm worried until I see you hunched over the toilet throwing up. I hold your hair back because I care about you and I care about us and our future together.

“Ugh I feel so horrible” you said sitting down on the bathroom floor catching your breath. “I’ll schedule a doctor's appointment tomorrow so we can see what's going on” I said as you looked up at me with a smile. “Thank you babe. What would I do without you.” you explained putting flutters in my chest.

I’m happy that you see a glimpse of what I would do for you…

Austin! Elvis post will be posted tomorrow thank you for all the love you guys have been giving my imagine. I appreciate all of you 😭🫶🏾

4K notes · View notes

perkqularkreashions · 7 months

Text

Last Nice Guy in New York??

Part Two: Living with the Enemy

Prompt: YN is close friends with Peach, Annika, Beck, and Lynn. She doesn't fit into their circle, nor does she try to. Joe soon sets his sights on YOU, leading to a domino effect within Y/N's life.

Requested: YES | Requested are OPEN|

YN's POV

PEACHES grabbed my arm slightly; her eyes wandered over my face, and I thought I saw something in them other than narcissism and an inflated ego for a brief moment. They were soft, a look ventured across her features, and her touch was more delicate. “YN,” she calls out in a tone I barely recognized. She saw it.

I retorted, “Peaches, I have to get going. I have this thing to do for class. But I will see you tonight.” She reluctantly nodded, pushing her lips together in a frown. She turned away, returning to our group of friends. Beck stared apologetically for a moment before turning away with them. Some days, I didn’t feel a part of the friend group; I didn’t live the same life they lived, nor did I want to fake it like Beck does. I couldn’t buy expensive jewelry or spend every day at a high-end coffee shop wasting 15 dollars on coffee and a bagel. I worked on campus as a TA/Tutor, allowing me to qualify for financial aid/assisted living, and being a single parent also helped secure those benefits.

The wind caressed my skin, and the smell of gasoline and pastries filled my nose—the loud chatter of the busy streets surrounded me. I pushed open the solid oak doors, the smell of baby powder, formula, and paper. I was thankful that the Daycare Center was on the third floor, away from prying eyes and judgmental glares. I tapped my toe gently in the elevator as I watched the numbers dance from 1 to 2 and dinging at 3. Hand-painted pictures scattered the walls, bringing life to the dull ward of the campus. Hand turkeys and finger-printed flowers. Photos of children with their names along with their likes and dislikes. I was then greeted by Jessica, one of the students in the Teaching Program –she smiled widely at me as she stood up for a hug. Her arms wrapped around me, her fragrance engulfed as she tried masking the smell of throw-up and other fluids. “Hey YN! Long time no see.”

A responded with a bright smile, “I know you’ve been gone for some weeks. I think Rafi was starting to miss you too.” she laughed brightly with a toothy grin. She moves away from me, leaving me alone in the hallway. I move away from the receptionist's desk. I stare at the art, my finger dancing against the groves of the crayons and paint. I heard his soft babble; swiftly, I turned around and saw his bright, toothless smile.

“It’s mama! Look, it’s mama,” she cooed, pointing her finger toward me. I smiled, adjusting my bag and taking him into my arms, momentarily kissing the corner of his head. The anxiety flushing away as he was safe in my arms. “He hasn’t been around the last month from what I heard; keep doing what you’re doing,” she comforts me, her hand resting on my shoulder. I nodded frantically as I moved away from her.

The ride home was comforting; the soft sound of jazz filled my ears as the mild breeze ran through the enclosed back seat. Rafael slept peacefully in my lap, my fingers dancing against his ravenous locks. I despised that he looked like his father, from his button nose to the beauty marks that scattered his face and arms. He scrunched his face similarly to his father's when thinking or concentrating on a task. He wore a gold bracelet his mother gifted us when he was born. Says that all the men in their family must have one. I contemplated taking it off, but I never found the courage to.

“I’m thankful for him, you know — I am going to be a better father than my dad ever was.” He stared at him, his hand caressing his face, pressing gentle kisses on his skin. “You’re here,” he whispers, “Finally, here.”

“Ma’am, we’re here,” a voice cuts through my wandering mind. My eyes focused on the man in front of me. A sympathetic smile washed over his lips.

I mumbled out a thanks before exiting the cab. I pressed the fob to the door, yanking it open as I hurriedly moved in. “Hey, YN!” an excited voice shouts out from the top of the stairs. Her feet paddle against the floor as she peaks over the guard rail.

“Finally, you’re here! I have been calling out to you all evening!” she jumps in front of me as she smiles at Rafi. I move past her, fiddling my key in the keyhole as I push into the apartment. Her chocolate skin illuminated under the dim lighting in the apartment. Her hair pulled back into a slick ponytail that was loosened ever so slightly. “So, you have a date tonight?”

I laughed, tossing a look over my shoulder.

“Come on, I’m 18 — practically an adult!” she plops down on the couch, tucking her legs underneath as she looks at me with frustration and curiosity.

“It’s a party for a friend.” I laid Rafael down in the crib, moving all the blankets and toys I tossed in earlier this morning. “I don’t do dates, Nicole, we already spoke about this,”

She laughs, “You have a 7-month baby; you do more than date.”

I scoffed in her direction, letting a smile hang on my lips. She giggles at me before her eyes move back to her phone. Her fingers were rapidly typing before her attention turned back to mine. “How’s Rafael’s dad doing?”

I stiffened as I moved to the closet, changing out of my clothes. Pulling on a simple dress, emerging from the closet, I posed slightly. “Approval?”

“Absolutely not,” she laughs, “What kind of party– it doesn’t even matter. We need to get you laid!”

“I don’t need to get anything, I just wanna look nice.”

“You can look nice and edible,” she laughs, “How about a little more boobies and less leg? Something to keep their mind wandering but begging for more.” I pulled out, a periwinkle dress, with a bit of cleavage and less leg; I brushed my hands down my hair, moving them behind my ear.

“Ta-da?” I hummed out, her eyes brightening as she offered me an excited smile. “Yes, now go find Rafael a step-daddy!”

I roll my eyes, moving out of the apartment and waving her goodbye. She was a sweet girl, just graduated high school and looking for some work while she applied to universities. Her mom and dad are professors at Brown and thought it’d be a good idea to push her in the direction of teaching – in their words, “showing her responsibility through taking care of the lives of others. How the responsibility of molding a young mind can be beneficial.”

Arriving at Peach’s house was always distasteful, the high-brow society looking down at me, seeing me as the new charity case for her to pick at and display. I didn’t fit into their society, no matter how often Peaches and Annika tried. “Beckalicious,” I heard over the roar of the chatter; she was usually so easily seen and heard no matter where she stood.

“Is this Joseph?” her voice shrilled in disdain, her arm snaked around Beck with a feigned smile. I chuckled at her momentarily, before returning my attention to the trays of wine that moved about.

“YN,” I heard a voice call out, a hand snaking around my waist and pulling me closer. I froze; the smell of champagne and cheese filled my nose. “I was hoping to run into you! I missed you!” I spun around seeing Liam Hastings; his hair pulled out his face as he wore a chestnut brown jacket with a navy blue button shirt, his chest slightly showing as he flashed me a smile.

“It’s like after you broke up Rafael, you just fell off the face of the earth!” he shouts, his hand slapping against my shoulder as he swallows a nod.

“Just wasn’t the crowd I wanted to be around,” I whispered; he tugged me closer. I clenched my hands, letting this reach his chest, trying to pry us apart. I could feel the air leaving me; my chest got tighter with every breath I took.

“He looks for you, says— you know what he says to me. Keep an eye on you!” he drunkenly laughs; I yank myself away. I found myself, darting up the stairs and escaping to Peaches’s library.

“I’m pregnant,” I cry out. Peach sank to her knees, her hand snatching at my wrist; she examined them momentarily. “I don’t want to have his baby! It was one night and I– I”

“Calm down, little dove, please. It hurts me to see you cry,” she whispers. I flinched away from her as she tried wiping the tears away. Realizing washes over her, her face turns cold as she studies me. “YN”

She called out my name; I didn’t have an answer, nor did I want to answer. “Y/N, Hello!”

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and a soft voice called, “Hello.” I spun around. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, I'm sorry. I’m in my little world,” I chuckle, moving my hair behind my ear. I studied how his face was tightly wound together, his shoulder tense, and his brows furrowed with frustration and thought. I recognized him, the infamous Joe Goldberg that Beck had mentioned. “Joseph, right?”

He shakes his head, “Joe, just Joe.” he forces a smile on his lips. His eyes wandered to the bookshelf before back at me.

“Well, Just Joe, I’m YN; I wish I could say we would meet under better circumstances, but–” I laughed momentarily, letting my head fall to my feet. “This is probably the best you’ll get.” He chuckles; it was lighthearted– it filled the air so gently.

“Y/N…?” my name played on his lips. He repeated it a couple of times before silencing. “You’re one of Peaches's friends.”

“Don’t let her catch you saying that,” I laugh. “If she catches you humanizing her too much, she’ll lose her shit. She’s a cold-hearted bitch, but I love that about her.”

“Isn’t she your best friend?” He teased; for a moment, I thought, honest to God, she was everything I needed her to be. She was a cold and calculated bitch, but it didn’t change the fact that when she looked at me, I mean really looked at me… she saw me. Maybe that wasn't such a good thing.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I belong in her world,” I whispered. I begin to move past him; his hand grabs my upper arm. His touch was gentle and inviting. His thumb gently caressed my exposed skin, his eyes resting on my shoulder, and my breath caught in my throat. The noise drowned out, the soft hum of the music, the clanking of glasses, and the chatter of drunken adults. The expectations to be perfect melted away. The world slowly sunk around me. Our eyes finally met.

Carefully, I whispered to him. “Enjoy the party, just Joe.” His grip loosened as the noise around us resumed. I was warped back into the party.

Peaches watched me, her eyes dark and cold. Her hand yanked at my arm as she dragged me closer to her. A dark smile washed on her face. “I saw that.”

“Peaches, let it go,” I whispered; she yanked me closer to her. She scoffs lightly. "It was nothing."

“Stealing Beck’s boyfriend too.” Her words slurred slightly, her tongue tripping over the slight syllabus. Her eyes were red and hanging low; she took pills. “Do you realize how pathetic you look?” I stiffened, holding my head away from her.

“Peach, leave it!” I whisper, my voice weakly danced away in the wind.

“Just like how you stole Sophia’s boyfriend, you steal Becks lowly boy toy?” her voice growing louder, capturing everyone’s attention. Eyes shift, and the music decreases with each word that Peach spews. “Do you realize how you look? I am just trying to protect you!”

“Peach, please,” I begged.

“It’s like you’re trying to win a game that no one else is playing – what getting fucked once at my house isn’t enough?” Silenced washed over us; my throat stung as I watched her. My lips parted as I tried to find the words to combat her statement, to find something to make this seem like banter. My face grew hot, and all I could do was stare at her, tears falling against my cheeks freely and tickling my chin and chest. “YN-” she begins to stutter, her face contorting gently.

“I have to go, Peach,” I whispered, ducking past her as I moved past the crowd. The fresh air slammed against my face, and I sucked in gently, trying to gather as much composure as possible.

Fuck me and fuck her.

#joe goldberg x reader #joe goldberg imagines #joe goldberg #joe goldberg x you #joe goldberg imagine #You Imagines #You Imagine #penn badgley imagine #penn badgley #penn badgley imagines #imagines #imagine #requests are open

410 notes · View notes

ongaku-ato-kakikomi · 1 year

Note

I have an imagie idea for Joe Goldberg. So imagine the reader likes Joe and works with him at Mooney's and he developes a soft spot for her and teaches her how to repair the old books down there. And it isn't uncommon for her to go down there on her own to do that herself.

You give out a long sigh as you walk toward Ethan standing behind the cash register, and you drop your arms and head on the counter as soon as you arrive. Ethan gives out a chuckle as he observes your melodramatic act.

“Let me guess. One of too many customers asked you one of too many dumb questions?”

“No, there’s barely anyone in here.” You give out another sigh and look up at him with desperation. “I’m just so bored.”

“Well, you can always re-stack the shelves.” Your friend and coworker speaks as he counts the money in the cash register, his eyes sometimes looking up so he can send a smile when a new customer walks in. “We got a few new boxes in this morning.”

“But my arms are so sore.”

Ethan gives out a small smile. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, really. They hurt so bad. Actually, I think I might need to ampute them.” Your comment only manages to bring a chuckle out of Ethan, then you notice something from the corner of your eyes, and a spark of curiosity appears in your eyes. “Hey, what’s that?”

You point at a small pile of wrapped books on the far edge of the counter.

“Oh, a client dropped these earlier. They’re old books that need some restoration.” Ethan continues to count the cash, humming a familiar song in-between his words. “I’ve been planning to tell Joe as soon as he comes back from his errands.”

“What? No, forget Joe.” You rapidly grab the pile of books, a wide smile taking over your lips. “I’m gonna go downstairs and take care of these myself.”

“Um...” Ethan gives you a look of hesitance. “I’m not sure you should do that.”

“Aw, come on, Ethan.” You give him a pout, batting your eyes. “You know Joe trusts me to do these. He even said I’m doing a better job than he is.”

He bites his bottom lip, still unsure. “Yeah, I’m not saying you aren’t good, but he’s given us straight orders not to go down there for a week now.”

You point at the half empty store with your head, your voice lowering to a whisper. “Whatever’s down there isn’t worth this deadly boredom up here.”

“(Y/N).” Ethan calls out your name as you walk away, his voice coming out a bit more panicky when you ignore him. “(Y/N)!”

“Relax! Joe won’t mind, I’m sure.” You unlock the door to the basement, then send your friend a wink. “Call me if there’s an emergency.”

You open the door and close it behind you before Ethan can say anything else, your feet already making you walk down the stairs as you hum a song. It doesn’t take long for you to reach the main area of the basement where the rare books are, your mind settled on getting to the restoration table. Although, a putrid smell brings your pace to an abrupt stop, and you frown in both disgust and confusion. Curious of the origin of the smell, you turn your head toward the glass cage on your left, internally wondering if you should adjust its humidity levels.

You drop the books on the floor the moment your eyes settle on the body decaying in there.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Hey, Ethan.” Joe smiles as he walks into the shop; although, his smile slightly falters when he notices his friend jumping up at the sound of his voice. “Whoa. You’re okay? You seem nervous.”

“Ah...” Ethan’s fingers fidget with the cash register for a moment, trying his best to focus on finishing his counting task. “No... No, I’m good! Great even!”

Joe quirks an eyebrow at that, thinking that this kind of behavior could only mean one thing, and he crosses his arms over the counter with a grin.

“So, what did (Y/N) do?” He stares intently at his friend, his head slightly tilting. “Tell me the truth.”

Ethan’s eyes quickly shift toward the basement door, but Joe immediately catches onto it.

“No...” His heart sink with fear as he realizes what you’ve done, and Ethan doesn’t have time to reply anything that Joe’s already running to get downstairs. “No, no, no!”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Bitter vomit pours out of your mouth to splash in the trash can you barely managed to grab, violent trembles taking over your body soon enough. The image of the body’s glazed white eyes staring back into your soul sticks into your mind, and it only worsens your sickness. You breathe sharply the moment you stop throwing up, using your sleeve to wipe off your mouth as you take another look at the cage. Whoever this body used to be, you can tell he’s been trapped in there for a while, his decaying skin looking like a gooey moldy paste. You can see some dry white foam around what used to be his mouth, and it doesn’t take you more than a few neurons to realize that he was poisoned.

And that Joe killed him.

“Oh my God...” You cry out those words as you stand up, your legs shaking as you try to run back to the stairs. “Oh my God, Ethan! Ethan, we have to call the police...!”

The door opens before you reach the top of the stairs, and your heart drops when you realize that it’s not Ethan who’s standing up there.

It’s Joe.

“... (Y/N).” Joe whispers that name as soon as he sees you standing down there with a look of terror on your face, his hands already closing and locking the door behind him. “(Y/N), please, let me explain. I... I can explain-(Y/N)!”

You don’t waste a second to run back down, your mind now focused on finding the basement exit to reach the alleyway. Tears fall out of your eyes when you hear Joe run down behind you, screaming your name out of desperation.

“(Y/N), wait! Wait!”

He manages to grab the back of your shirt and pulls you back.

“No!” You scream as loud as you can the moment you feel his arms wrap around your body, hoping Ethan would be able to hear you as you try to kick yourself out of Joe’s grip. “No, no, no, let me go!”

“I’m sorry...” Joe whispers those words into your ears, struggling to wrap one of his arms around your neck. “You weren’t supposed to see that...”

You gasp for air when you feel his arm squeezing your neck, your hands desperately scratching at his skin to stop him. “Let... me go...!”

“I can’t do that.” He puts more pressure on your neck, making you moan in pain as you give out raspy shot breaths. “I’m so sorry.”

I’m gonna die. You think, your movements slowing down as your vision blacken. He’s going to kill me.

Joe frees your neck the moment your arms fall victim to gravity, and he gently lays you on the floor. His eyes fill up with tears when he sees your unconscious face and the red marks around your neck.

“I’ll fix this.” He presses a gentle kiss on your forehead, his mind already racing to find a solution that would save you from himself. “I promise you I’ll fix this.”

In the meantime, he’ll have to keep you down here.

And hopefully Ethan won’t question his excuses.

#you #joe goldberg #joe goldberg imagine #joe goldberg imagines #joe goldberg x reader #you imagine #you imagines #you x reader #request #requests #imagine #imagines #x reader #reader insert

1K notes · View notes

fictitiousmagines · 8 months

Text

You've Already Got Me Wrapped Around Your Finger Part 4

You couldn't imagine my delight, when you invited me to a mid-day picnic after you poured your heart out to me in the stacks at Mooney's. I'd wanted to kiss you, so desperately, but heroes wait for their moment.

And you are a vision here in this bustling park, the pale blue sun dress and the same ole tote that you sling over your shoulder. You are a vision. You're effortless, in a way that people try to emulate but never quite measure up to.

You blush and babble as you unpack a spread of cheese, crackers and fruit. As you unpack, your most prized possession tumbles from the depths of your tote: your journal. You've mentioned in passing, that you draw and write in there and its the only time you feel like you can be yourself. I am Captain Ahab and your journal is my white whale.

"Oops," Y/N says while quickly stuffing it back in. Its a deep green with tattered corners but she touches it with such tenderness.

I hope you can be yourself with me, Y/N. I hope you can tell that I'm here to save you. I'm here to take care of you.

It was an absolutely perfect day: the picnic, the train back to our little part of New York City, the leisurely ride home, kissing you on your porch.

Your lips were so soft, Y/N. They're almost a drug. The way I got lost in the moment and buried my hands into your soft hair. Pulling away, you looked up at me with a look that only can be described as vulnerable. Beautiful. I wanted to take you right there. But instead I stroked your cheek with my thumb and reassured you that I had a wonderful time. That I couldn't wait to see you again.

When you texted me later that night, you pulled me out of my reading. But you are always a welcome distraction.

"Thanks again for the beautiful day together. Wanna grab a drink later this week? PS. I lost my journal, maybe on the train? I'm bummed! Does Mooney's sell blank journals?"

I don't answer because I immediately plan on buying you one and bringing it to you in the morning. A nice one. And each time you pour your soul into its pages, you'll think of me.

It was irresistible grabbing it out of your bag on the train. Your attention was on the loud commotion to your right. In an instant, it went from your bag, to my backpack. Hidden under the picnic blanket.

Maybe I'll buy you a new bag, one with a zipper. I don't want anyone pickpocketing you. Anyone could grab your wallet and get your personal information. I just wanna keep you safe. Not everyone is going to have your best intentions at heart. But I do.

I've been worried about you, Y/N. This is just my way of checking on you. I'm sure you're worried about overloading me. About having too much baggage, but you could never be too much for me. The more I read, the more fascinated I became.

I learned from your journal, new things but also things I only suspected. Like, that your dads care overwhelms you sometimes. Even though you love your dad dearly. That you worry that it might be time to put him in a home, even though your heart couldn't bear it. That your brother resists helping you, even though you work round the clock. That you miss your mother. And rereading The Outsiders makes you feel more connected to her.

Your art is always so gestural. So much feeling.

My heart stopped when I saw that you even wrote about me.

You wrote about meeting me at the shop. Our coffee together. And even about eating bodega sandwiches in the stacks of Mooney's. How I made you feel safe at that moment.

"I don't want to get ahead of myself, but I think I like this guy Joe."

#joe goldberg x you #joe goldberg fanfic #joe goldberg x reader #joe goldberg imagine #joe goldberg imagines #joe goldberg #You imagine #you imagines #penn badgley x reader #penn badgley imagine #penn badgley

270 notes · View notes

bittersweetarts · 6 months

Text

How to Disappear - Chapter 1

Soldier Boy (The Boys) x OC

Word count: 2389 words

Summary: Eden Reid can't help her curiosity, and Soldier Boy can't help but take advantage of that curiosity.

WARNINGS: Some depiction of violence, misogyny, and the usual TW for it being The Boys (Amazon)

Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - AO3 Page

Chapter 1: An Act of Kindness

Eden Reid was at the start of her daily fucking crack ass of the dawn morning jog across Laurance Harbor Beach, sandy-brown hair up in a high pony, dressed in her usual bland sweats and black running shoes, when she came across him, unconscious along the shoreline, the waves repeatedly caressing him, gently, before retreating.

As she stared at him, the young woman noticed his tattered costume and the bruising littered on his face and skin, and that he did not appear to be breathing. For a moment, Eden contemplated what to do, because she knew that she couldn’t take him to any emergency room or call 911.

Because she knew exactly who he was.

Of course, she knew exactly who he fucking was, pretty much most of the world knew who exactly he fucking was.

He was Soldier Boy, the old leader of Payback, fought in all those important wars in the last century, America’s first and greatest Supe, a man who was supposed to be dead and yet somehow was now alive, lying on the beach in front of her.

And apparently now a Super-Terrorist, according to the news outlets, who for the past week have only been reporting on the attack on the Seven Tower, and how Queen Maeve had successfully saved the country with her sacrificial takedown of Soviet-brainwashed Soldier Boy; his defeat was supposed to be symbolic of a new age for freedom and safety for the masses.

Unlike most of the people Eden knew though, she wasn’t blinded by the lies fed to the masses on a silver spoon by the media and corporations like Vought International.

Eden knew, Eden knew all too well that Supes were nothing but selfish bastards at best, and that none of them give a single fuck about saving others. Eden knew that the mainstream media hyperinflated the heroism of ‘heroes’, and failed to report the deaths of normal civilians, who were nothing more than simply collateral damage. And Eden knew that if she was told that unconscious man lying before her was nothing but a villain, then that was not the full story.

And she knew this all this because if her abilities were not so weak, she would have been just another Supe on Vought or some other fuck’s payroll, spouting the exact same bullshit.

But no, her ability of super strength was, ironically, too weak to even be considered as a D-list Supe, despite her family’s dreams for her, and now in her mid-twenties, she wastes her days away as a receptionist at a private clinic in East Brunswick. So much for the glamorous life of the ‘super-abled’.

However, her abilities were not weak enough apparently to carry the heavy ass man before her. Although he did not appear much taller than she was, he was at least twice her size, and as she lifted him up into her arms, Eden gave a silent prayer, hoping that she wouldn’t see a single living soul as she carried the unconscious vigilante to her car, and that the oversized grey zip that she draped over him concealed his appearance well enough.

What the fuck was is my problem? Eden thought as she dropped Soldier Boy into the trunk of Mazda, a black SUV she bought years ago when she moved out of her childhood home.

Eden didn’t need this shit. It’s been years since she dropped out of Godolkin and left behind the world of fucked up Supes and drugs, and she was at peace living in solitude at her cabin by Norvin Green Forest. She didn’t need to get herself involved in dangerous shit. So why had she gotten herself involved by kidnapping the unconscious man who was lying in the trunk of her vehicle?

Eden couldn’t explain it. To call it a curiosity would be an understatement; it was more like a compulsion. She had acted thoughtlessly, as though she were possessed by something, and now, on her half hour drive back to her home in the woods, Eden began to regret what she had done.

Days passed and life continued as normal for Eden. She kept her unconscious house guest in a spare bedroom of her small cabin, and went to her 9 to 5 throughout the work week as usual.

In a way, Eden hoped that if Soldier Boy woke up in her home, he would simply leave, and that she would not have to meet him or explain anything. But every evening, following her commute, Eden was greeted by her dark home, and when checking on her guest, she found him unconscious, but still alive and in her spare bed.

Eden often thought about whether she should call the cops or to dump the unconscious Supe back at the beach (or literally anywhere else). But she did not do that, because she knew that by this point, it would simply make her a walking target either for Vought or the government, and really, it was a miracle that she had not been caught transporting him to her place from the beach. For all she knew though, some government entity or Vought was spying on her this very minute.

So instead, the young woman resigned herself to the guest bedroom, where she left Soldier Boy to lay on the queen-sized bed, most of its real estate which he occupied. As he lay there motionless, Eden would periodically cleanse his face and exposed skin with a damp wash cloth (not knowing what else to do that would help him), before covering him with a light blanket. For the rest of the night, Eden would sit on the cream armchair by him, mindlessly watching the news on the small TV set in the room, on low volume, while thinking about anything and everything.

It's not that Eden did not have anything else to do, or that she had no one. Eden prefers to consider her lifestyle as a self-imposed exile, because she knew that she could not rely on anyone. Disconnecting herself from the world, being in nature, was healing to her, and even if she wanted to, she couldn’t get herself to trust anyone, not anymore.

And so, Eden spent several weeks like this, working during the day, going on her daily runs (though now in the forest rather than the beach), and barely sleeping at night, passively watching the news and her unconscious guest, who’s bruising slowly faded away. Soldier Boy looked exactly as he did in his old film, Red Thunder, Eden noticed, and had not aged in the slightest, which bewildered her.

But despite being the vision of health, Soldier Boy did not wake, and Eden did not know what to do.

More often than Eden would like to admit, Eden watched Soldier Boy, observing his long lashes and the way his now steady breathing never wavered – not even when Eden would wipe a damp wash cloth across his body – and she noticed how quickly his stubble grew into a fuller beard, but never to the point of the point of overgrowth, despite the lack of grooming.

Eden also noticed how humorous it was that practically the only topic on the news channels was Soldier Boy himself, and how it was reported that he was not a Super-Terrorist anymore, but an odd dichotomy of hero and victim to Soviet radicalization. And so, the narrative shifted, not that she believed it to be the full truth. Yet something Eden knew to be true was not on any news channel or online forum: Soldier Boy was not dead but alive, albeit unconscious in some cabin hidden away in the mountains.

Or rather that was the truth, until Soldier Boy regained consciousness.

It happened so quickly, and Eden was not entirely awake to even process exactly what happened.

One moment, Eden was drifting into sleep, in her usual seat on the armchair, with the lamp lights dim, the moonlight from the window behind filtering into the room, and the TV white noise drowning out the silence. The next moment, Eden found herself gasping for breath, suffocating, as two strong hands wrapped around her throat, pinning her to the armchair.

Eyes still half-asleep but now tearful, Eden met the vicious stare of her now-awakened guest, and suddenly, she came to her senses. Mustering up all her strength, Eden pushed against his chest, the supe-strength of which took her attacker by slight surprise. His hold on her throat relaxed slightly, and Eden quickly grabbed his wrists to keep his grip loose.

“Let me go –” Eden choked out, trying to breath.

As though confused, Soldier Boy tilted his head, but his expression remained in its remorselessly neutral expression. Fear shot through her veins when Eden realized that her strength did not affect him but rather spiked the smallest amount of curiosity.

“I was just trying to help you.” Eden sputtered out incoherently as she felt the grip began to tighten again. Soldier Boy narrowed his eyes at this, and then right on cue, something else caught his attention.

The tiny TV in the room switched to midnight rerun of The Cameron Coleman Hour on the Vought News Network, and broadcast invaded the room, with the image of Soldier Boy plastered over the screen.

“Good evening everybody, welcome back …” Cameron Coleman’s voice echoed throughout the room.

As it did, Soldier Boy loosened his grip on Eden’s throat, letting her go. Eden’s hand shot up to her neck, strands of her sandy-brown hair falling to her face as she gasped for more air. Her skin felt sore, and she knew that if she were a normal person, she would have been dead by now, at the very least from a broken neck.

“… and please welcome our guest of the evening, Defense Secretary Chris Barney.” The cheering track played on TV bounced off the walls in the guest room, while the camera panned from Cameron Coleman onto a burgeoned man his early-thirties, already balding, and Soldier Boy’s attention was entirely captivated by what was on TV.

“Mr. Secretary, thank you so much for joining us.” Chris Barney, in his mechanical voice, thanked his interviewer as well, and Eden, with her hands on her tender neck, watched as Soldier Boy was entirely captivated by the TV interview.

“I want to kick off by asking you to directly respond to the idea that Soldier Boy and this new age of Super-Terrorism, which involves Supes living in our country, should be the Pentagon and American public’s top concern.”

“See Cameron, I am not going to beat around the bush. Soldier Boy’s attack in Manhattan is an isolated incident, and the FBSA has taken great strides in tackling this matter, and in the mere weeks past, there is already a significant reduction in the number of violent incidences within the public, both super-abled and not. So to answer your question, no it is not a concern for both the Pentagon and America, especially as Soldier Boy is an isolated incident, and dead at that.”

Chris Barney’s voice bounced off the walls, and as it sounded off, and he answered follow up questions relating to terror attacks, which Soldier Boy ignored, as he began to speak over him, his voice both low but loud, full of contempt.

“So that’s it, huh – I’m dead. I’m fucking dead to the American people. Again.”

Eden did not know what to say, and took a step back, the back of her legs now pressed to the wooden side table by the bed.

“I fought for this country. I fucking gave up my life for this fucked up country, and what do I get in return? Fucking nothing.”

As he spoke, spitting out each syllable, Eden noticed how Soldier Boy clinched his fists tightly, and wondered whether he would just destroy her home, or kill her as well. She remained silent, not daring to even breath too loudly as though that would set him off. But Eden’s heart was beating at a million miles per minute, and she was sure that Soldier Boy could hear it.

Reminded of her presence, Soldier Boy turned around and glanced over Eden, as though he were a predator contemplating whether his prey was worthy of slaughter. His deliberation lasted only a few moments. With only two tall strides, Soldier Boy, in his tattered costume, came face-to-face with the young woman stood before him, brushing away a thick strand that had fallen in front of her eyes.

“What’s your name doll?”

Soldier Boy’s voice was deep, and though he did not swear or say anything malignant, Eden was still frightened, but willed herself to not shake in her fuzzy slippers.

“Eden,” Eden responded quietly, but Soldier Boy’s furrowed eyebrows made her paranoid that he either hadn’t heard her, or that she hadn’t actually said anything.

“Eden Reid, um, Sir.” Eden said once again, only slightly more audibly, while looking to the ground, so as to avoid his burning stare. At this, Soldier Boy chuckled and gently took push a hand to her chin, tilting her face upwards, making her look back at him again.

“Well, aren’t you sweet, Miss Reid.” Soldier Boy spoke, the side of his mouth tilting upwards. Inching his face closer, he continued speaking, his breath blowing over Eden’s face. “Have you got any pills, sweetheart?”

Eden shook her head slowly, now shaking slightly and regretting her personal stance on being drug-free.

“Weed?”

Eden shook her head again, and she felt her heart speed up anymore. At this, Soldier Boy turned away to let out a frustrated sigh, before facing her again.

“A good girl. Surely you can be resourceful and find something, doll. Age of feminism and all.”

Soldier Boy’s tone was condescending, but thankfully, Eden knew that her co-worker, Matt, had an affinity for her and substance abuse, so she might be able to score something from him. Pressing her lips together, Eden nodded, which made Soldier Boy smile. Letting go of her chi, Soldier Boy turned around and sat on the armchair to his right, paying attention to the TV again, which was still playing the Cameron Coleman interview rerun.

“Well then, chop-chop sweetheart. And afterwards, you can tell me where the fuck I am and why the fuck I’m here with you.”

Author's Note: This is an AU story where rather than getting captured, Soldier Boy/Ben ends up projecting himself into the Hudson River. I am not a Geography or Physics major, so none of this actually makes sense or is realistic.

– Chapter 2

56 notes · View notes

hamburgerhelpersotherhand · 28 days

Note

Hellooo I LOVE your writing and was wondering if you could do another part of 'Papier' the story with Joe Goldberg 🥹 Thank you and Have a wonderful day!

Of course!

I’ve since finished the new season entirely and found it just fine. I heard quite a few unfavourable things before going into it, but I actually didn’t feel pulled in that same direction… it wasn’t that bad.

Warnings: power imbalance, Joe being a creep.

My eyes skim the pages, all different, all beginnings, unused introductions that didn't quite make the cut. You're good at this, at writing and adding... but you never quite rid yourself of the past. You tuck it away for later; perhaps a better thought will emerge from stirring the mind with old prose or, maybe, you have a fear of losing things.

I glance over the paper and look at you, sitting on the chaise in front of my desk, in my office, legs crossed and hands resting atop your knee. Your bag is by your feet. I smile and lower the draft.

"These are good," I say. "but you've given me better."

You nearly deflate at my words, chewing on the inside of your cheek as your eyes burn holes into the back of your paper. It's not what you had handed in for your midterm, but it is an older copy for us to look through.

I blink, tucking in my top lip for a moment as I think.

"What's up?" I ask.

Your eyes flick up to mine.

“What?”

I move back and sit on my desk, discarding the papers by my side to give you my full attention.

“You seem to have something on your mind,” I point out.

“I just…” You pinch your lips momentarily, timidly moving your eyes somewhere along my desk. “I feel like I’m moving backwards.”

“Would you like to unpack this feeling?”

“I don’t see how it’ll make a difference.”

At that, I smile.

“Sometimes talking things through can help. What are you worried about?”

You look away for a moment, pensive. You’re thinking of what to say, or perhaps you’re searching for a way to say it.

“Failure.” You admit plainly.

“Do you think you’re failing?” I then ask, and you shift in your seat.

“Yes, and I want to do something about it. Anything.”

I bite the inside of my cheek.

After a moment’s silence, I push myself off my desk and take a step to you. Your eyes look up into mine as I approach.

Once your chin lifts, and I’m intimately close to your sitting form, I speak the question I had been dying to ask since your ass sat down in my office.

“Would you like me to give you some options?”

You gulp, the action drawing my eyes for a split moment. I grind my teeth, wondering loosely if this had been how Beck’s professors felt about her.

“What are my options?” You whisp, unsure of what you’re truly asking from me.

My hand rises, and I pretend to catch lint off your shoulder. I flick it away with a broadening smile. My fingers follow the knit of your sweater, then, languidly stroking my way down to your collarbone.

“When I’m not holding a class, I’m frequently in my office. The first option is simple: we meet here, five days a week.”

Your eyes swirl with fear. “I can’t do that, I’m full-time. I don’t have availabilities every day.”

“If the frequency of our sessions is going to be a problem, the other option will have to include longer sessions.”

Watching your face contort uncomfortably as you think over your dilemma has me giddy with excitement.

“Are you alright with studying late?” I ask.

You shift in your seat. No. You’re not okay with it. What will become of the little social life you’ve managed to maintain? The small amount of me-time you’re going to lose?

You nod and my hand finds your shoulder again, giving you a reassuring squeeze as you tense below my fingers.

“I can do nights, but my office can’t stay open past a certain time. I hope you understand that. I’ll gladly accept you into my home, if you’re willing to try. Two nights a week, maybe? How does that sound?”

“What nights?” You ask.

“Tuesday and Thursday.” I respond, watching you closely.

“I can do that.” Your voice is small as you speak, you’ve shrunk. Defeated. You don’t want to accept my terms, but you know you have to.

I pull my hand away, turn, and scratch at my beard with a pleasant hum. My hands ache with the need to touch you, to touch myself, but I reach for pen and paper instead, scribbling down my address.

#joe goldberg x reader #yandere x reader #joe goldberg #you imagine #netflix you #yandere #x reader

24 notes · View notes

hansoeii · 9 months

Text

look at you, you're gorgeous!

94K notes · View notes

pocket-size-cthulhu · 1 month

Text

I'm a cryptid in Stardew valley. I live on the outskirts of town. I disappear for days on end, purchasing daily one-way tickets to the calico desert. Nobody knows where I go while I'm there. Can occasionally be found fishing at random spots throughout town. I am never not running on at least one triple shot espresso. I take the abandoned minecarts to get around and am frequently seen disappearing into the sewers. I carry a sword for some reason. Once every week or two I will stride into your bedroom to deliver you your favorite meal. I'm a self-made millionaire. I attend all the town events and will go to your concert in the next town over. I have donated approximately 2583 items to the local museum and singlehandedly revitalized the town community center. There are rumors I can talk to junimos. I'm friends with the local wizard

#Stardew valley #most common meeting place for me and my girlfriend is level 20 of the mines #I'm so proud of her 🥲#i give her spicy eel that i got from killing monsters in the skull caverns #seriously can you imagine having someone like that in your town lmao

27K notes · View notes

chloesimaginationthings · 9 months

Text

Spider-punk and Noir in btsv scene leaked

#myart #chloesimagination #comic #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv #hobie brown #spider punk #spiderman noir #spiderman #marvel #could you imagine they actually do this bit in btsv #I’d lose it #noir is the oldest 19 year old ever

74K notes · View notes

thunderon · 1 month

Text

so my roommate is completely straight edge like no drugs no alcohol etc and so im sure y’all can imagine my surprise when i saw she brought home this sign

so i immediately inquired

and now you may ask. what the fuck did my roommate think that sign meant? well

anyways i moved the sign so it’s now front and center in our living room and ive been laughing every time i pass it

#the SERENITY PRAYER IN LATIN #life is about surrounding yourself with the dumbest people imaginable so you can get some occasional laughs #i also don’t smoke #so this sign is extra funny to put up in our place #op #also my roomie is actually very very intelligent contrary to this post lmao #bestof

33K notes · View notes

rivetgoth · 2 months

Text

It's honestly crazy that discussion around testosterone HRT skews so much towards the beginning stages of it (to the point that you have dozens of guys thinking their transition is "failed" if they don't pass by like a year in lol) and what the initial changes of the first couple of months to years look like, like the classic laundry list of those early basic changes like bottom growth, voice drop, etc, when IMO literally none of that compares remotely to the depth and intensity of the long term total masculinization you start to experience like 3-5+ years in.

#also has made it increasingly difficult to relate to those early into their transition honestly #like not in a bitter way it’s just like hard to express how diff the experience is #of being like a year on T vs 5 😭#ETA I muted this post ages ago now but fwiw seeing transphobes pop up in the notes on occasion just to say cruel reactionary shit #you are clowns I cannot imagine seeing a post that is ONLY about discussing with folks about the reality of a medication #and choosing to make that your moment to get a schoolyard bully jab in about how you find it gross or something.#you are less well adjusted than must children. may the universe be kinder to you than you are to others.

35K notes · View notes

retquits · 2 months

Text

1.6 is coming—see you march 19th!!! 🥹🌱

#stardew valley #can you imagine pouring blood sweat & tears into a game #releasing it for like $15 #and then working for 8 more years to add more content without asking for a cent more #for what could have easily been several dlc packs #i love you stardew valley i love you concernedape i love you indie games thank you for being my home all these years #EDIT: added image ID in the alt!!

24K notes · View notes

perkqularkreashions · 3 months

Text

Living with the Enemy, Joe Goldberg x Reader

Part 1: Last Nice Guy in New York??

Prompt: YN is close friends with Peach, Annika, Beck, and Lynn. She doesn't fit into their circle, nor does she try to. Joe soon sets his sights on YOU, leading to a domino effect within Y/N's life.

Requested: YES | Requested are OPEN|

Warnings: Mature Content, Manipulation, Stalking, Slightly Proofread.

It had been some time since you last spoke with Peach and her willing and obedient entourage. You blissfully ignored them, avoiding the usual hangouts and skipping daily walks with your son. You took different routes and dined at other eateries, and for a while, you enjoyed this simple and slow-paced lifestyle.

It was a particularly warm day in New York; the increasing winds had died, allowing you to turn off the space heaters that litter your apartment. You relished the smell of cleaning products and baby formula rather than burning rubber. You watched as Rafi bounced around in his walker from his room back to the living room. His hand slapped against some trinket that sang a quick tune of “You are my sunshine.” It was probably his favorite plaything on that bouncer, but it annoyed the absolute hell out of you. The loud and high-pitched continuous loop of "you are my sunshine... my only sunshine", but he loved it, so you endure it. You cracked open the window, allowing the fresh air to filter into the apartment, the warm breeze washing over you briefly before returning to stillness. Contently, you sighed. Your eyes flickered to the door; a hesitant knock followed by two more confident knocks. You shuffled off the couch, unable to gaze through the peephole due to the grime built up over the years. You mentally noted that you need to tell the landlord about that. Unlocking your three deadbolts, you pressed your ear against the door, hearing the muffled female voices.

You opened the door and noticed Peach, Beck, Lynn, and Annika. Your eyes widened as you stumbled back, Peach charging into the apartment. Her eyes glanced around as she brightly smiled at Rafi before returning her cold gaze to you. She crosses her arms, waiting for you to fill the silence with an apology. The tension hung in the air like a heavy fog, palpable and suffocating everyone as they all watched you, their once easy rapport replaced by an uneasy silence. Every word left unsaid seemed to echo between them, filling the space with a sense of unease that was almost tangible. You chuckled before turning away, gathering some of Rafi’s items out of habit. “You don’t just go MIA for weeks like that!” Everyone slowly shifts into the apartment; you feel suffocated. “I called, you never answer.”

You plainly answered, “I know.” You shoved some clothes into the hamper before returning to the group. You tried to think of something to say and formulate something harsh and crude to say back to Peach and her brainless minions that followed her every call, jumping at the snap of her fingers and pleading for some sort of acceptance from her. You sighed, sitting on the sage-colored love seat, your elbows resting on your knees as you rubbed your temples gently. “Peach, you and your…whatever this is. Can happily get the fuck out of my apartment. You can’t just storm into my home and expect me to drop to my knees begging for you to what…forgive me?”

You felt the couch dip next to you, the smell of her engulfing you. It iterated the fuck out of you yet offered you a warm feeling. She was home; despite her manipulation, gas-lighting, and bitch behavior, she was home. You finally looked at her, your face growing warm as you pressed your lips together. Her smile growing as she knew, she squealed, wrapping her arms around you. “Say you forgive us… me?” You nodded against her before pulling back. “Great, let’s go out to eat! We’ve missed you and have lots to catch you up on!”

You nodded, pressing a feigned smile on her lips; Annika smiled, wrapping you in a brief, one-armed hug. She was followed by Lyn, who seemed more than pleased that you had returned. They moved away, gawking at Rafi as they spoke with him in an annoying, high-pitched tone. They were flashing toys in front of him before snatching them quickly as he giggled loudly. You stood beside Beck; an awkward silence washed over you both. Beck wanted to speak… she wanted to ask if what Peach had been filling in her head was true. Suppose you had been trying to pine after Joe; how would she feel? She admitted her feelings for Joe were growing; she liked having him around and the attention he provided her when Benji was off on a binge of whatever drug would provide him with whatever relief. “We missed you… I missed you,” Beck spoke, cutting through the silence.

“I’m sorry,” You mumbled, bumping into her shoulder and offering her a half smile. She tucked a small piece of hair behind her ear.

“I’ve been dying to tell you about everything, I mean everything,” Beck whispers through her laugh as she watches you for a moment. Beck confided you about everything; you weren’t judgmental and never gave advice—you were just a lending ear that she craved in the whirlpool that was Peach. You sighed, knowing that no matter where you were in your life and how far you thought you had escaped Peach, she was always lurking in the shadows, ready to devour you at any minute.

You hummed softly, your hand occasionally, moving the visor back to check to see if your son was still alive. Your hand fluttered in front of his face; quickly, he reached for your fingers. You had spent most of the morning shopping for groceries and wanting to find some fresh produce. You gathered green apples, strawberries, and some blueberries. It has been a slow-paced morning; class was canceled, you were finally caught up on your assignments, and only needed to grade some papers from some of your classes. You hadn’t seen Peach since your lunch date with the girls two weeks ago. It was spent, for the most part, talking about Beck’s choices in men and the plethora of men that have taken her to bed… all this steaming from Benji ghosting her. You didn’t know what she saw in him, but he was a poser and couldn’t hold down an idea, let alone his own business. She had fucked, Mr. Bedroom Eyes, someone that she had met in the library, all while leading on Joe and worrying about Benji.

Your eyes shifted slightly; noticing him underneath the navy-blue baseball cap, he examined the fruit before placing it down. You smiled brightly, peering left and right before approaching him. You stuttered for a moment; wait is it weird that you were approaching him? Did you even need to say hello? You stood behind him, mindlessly watching his gaze at the fruit. Weaving through the throngs of people as your eyes held steady on him, your hands tightening against the stroller. Panic surged through you, threatening to overwhelm my senses as your hands hesitantly reach out to his shoulder. Joe jumped as he spun around; a toothy grin fell on his lips as his eyes shifted to Rafi. “Sorry, this must be weird.” You quickly tried to explain, and yet there you stood.

“No!” Joe smiled, “No weird at all.” He watched you, taking in your beauty from the curve of your lips to the furrow of your brows. Your eyes are a soft color, filled with so much emotion. He contained his excitement, continuing to handle the slightly ripe peach in his hand. A soft breath of relief escaped your lips; Joe watched you, taking in every moment, from the twitch of your eye when you smiled to the slight tightening of your hands against the stroller’s handle. Were you nervous? You didn’t need to be! I am all yours! Joe’s thoughts muddled aggressively through his head, his eyes concentrating more on your slight movements, the way you shifted your weight to your left hip as you stood there, watching him. Your index finger nervously taps before stopping.

“Good, I thought it’d be weird if I recognized you in this crowded space,” you laughed; it was soft. A small smile crept on his face as he moved closer to you, a single step to be closer to you. You slightly shifted, leaning against the stroller as you pushed it in front of you before bringing it back. “It’s nice to see you again.” Your heart fluttered as you watched his goofy take hold of his lips. His cheeks dusted pink as he nodded hesitantly; he stepped forward, watching you walk away in the crowd, occasionally wiggling your fingers in front of your son’s view.

“Are you alone?” Joe mentally cringed as you paused, peering over your shoulder in confusion, “I meant, I could keep you company while you go shopping… If you don’t mind.” Do you mind? You wouldn’t mind, would you? Joe thought; he watched you ponder his offer, and you fully faced him as you smiled, nodding at him. Joe joined you, shoulders bumping into each other as you continued to walk through the farmer’s market. Looking at the different herbs and vegetation sprawled on the tables, you fingered at them, rubbing your fingers with a concentrated look on your face as Joe pushed Rafi. Joe watched you in awe, his hand gripping against the stroller in angst and yearning. He watched you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear; you quickly turned to him, putting a strong-smelling herb in his face. He winced as he swatted at his nose; you laughed softly before agreeing with the saleswoman that the left one was more pungent.

“My mom made this weird-tasting soup for me when I was sick, but it always helped. It helps when Rafi has a little bug. He hates it; he scratches at my arms when I force-feed it to him.” You laughed, showing him the small craters in her skin that hadn’t healed properly. Joe took your arm, letting his thumb trace over the craters. “He’s so mean when he wants to be; I guess he gets that from his dad.” Joe watched you, taking in every word that was said.

“His dad hit you?” You were stunned; you placed the herbs in your tote bag before looking at Rafi, making a slight face and tickling him. Joe observed you, your face tense as you seemingly tried to feign enjoyment in the brief time with your son. He watched how you weren’t standing so close to him; your shoulders still touched every again, but not the same as before. Joe cursed at himself for bringing it up; Joe hated that he made you feel so small and helpless again. You froze at the sound of your name; Joe noticed it, too. He peered over his shoulder seeing someone rush to you, his hand waving wildly as he began to jog to catch up to you. He called your name again. Joe’s eyes flickered at you, and you were frozen, eyes wide in fear. Joe leaned closer to you, but you were snapped out of thoughts when the man stood directly behind you. You slowly turned, now facing the stranger. Joe watched the man; something about was familiar, the curve of his lip and the bushiness of his brow. His hair was long and pulled into a rendition of a man-bun with some pieces falling in front of his face; he was clean-shaven and muscular. His skin was a deep cooper color that glistened but wasn’t sweat…more of an oil-based lotion.

“It’s been so long!” he smiled with a bright smile, teeth perfect and in a row, no obscurities or imperfection. He tried reaching out for a hug, but you backed away, letting a small smile rest on your lips. You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t have to for Joe to notice how uncomfortable you were. “Who’s this?” His eyes never left yours. Joe could see the intimidation in his eyes, and his smile never reached his eyes when he spoke.

Joe moved the stroller before him, stretching his hand in the process; a bright smile rested on his lips. “Joe.” The man didn’t acknowledge him or care for his name. Finally, he passed him a glance, his face churning into a distasteful look. His eyes moved to the stroller, and as a bright smile crossed his lips, he bent down for a moment. Wiggling at Rafi’s shoes, speaking in a babbled baby talk before looking up to you again.

“You know he misses you and him; you shouldn’t run away. Especially with his child.” The man spoke, and he stood to his feet. “See around.” He spoke before brushing past you. Joe grabbed your arm, and you winced momentarily, flinching away from him. Your eyes finally connected with Joe’s; you sucked in a deep breath before grabbing unto the stroller. A sense of comfort washed over you.

“Thanks for today… for this. I appreciate it,” you hummed. Joe nodded, watching you walk away; his eyes focused on the man who had ruined your perfect day together. It started innocently enough, stumbling into an impromptu game of hide-and-seek. Plunging into the maze of crowds, Joe found himself, trailing the stranger, drawn by the same curiosity that everyone in the market has. Joe shadowed his movements, picking up a weathered journal or a fruit that was slightly ripe. His eyes cut to the man every chance he had gotten. As Joe meanders through the maze of makeshift booths and colorful displays, the man he’s following remains blissfully unaware of his presence. They weave through the crowd, partaking in a dance that only Joe is aware of.

“Dom! Dom! Dom Batista! As I live and breathe in the flesh it is you!” Joe groaned at the dramatic nature of New Yorkians, every word that stumbles out of their mouth an illicit affair with Shakespeare and a Soap Opera. “It has been so long since we’ve last seen each other!”

Joe followed behind you, face low as he watched you hurriedly move through the streets, passing men and women alike.

Batista….Batista….Batista is the name of a Judge in New York City; their mother was an actress who starred in plenty of movies before her fall from grace and getting addicted to cocaine. They had three children, three boys: Jonathan, the oldest—who was a criminal defense attorney. He was married with two sons. He didn’t post on social media, but his wife, Mary Glassgo, came from an Affluent family in Virginia who had established wealth through “other means.” during the late 1700s, did, in fact, post and posted often. She was overly descriptive and pictured all the locations where they dined, shopped, and vacationed. She was on a trip with her two sons, enjoying the mountains in Vermont. The caption was, “Can’t get away from life all the time, but when I do, it’s always with my two favorite boys.” Joe followed you across the street, scrolling through her Instagram until he came across a photo from Thanksgiving; he dragged his thumb across the screen, revealing a picture of her and another man who looked similar to Jonathan, tagged was St_Do_Batista. Dominick, the middle— Joe, recgonized him as the man he saw today; he frequently posted almost every day at the gym. He was a professional boxer; his face wasn’t riddled with too many lacerations and scars, which indicated that he was good at his craft. He had a girlfriend, one of many girlfriends. They all came and gone, as soon as a new one would be posted with a bright smile, not knowing her fate. Petite blondes, curvy brunettes, tall red-heads, even some bald girls with tattoos riddling every surface of their bodies.

“Hello….” Joe thought; he scrutinized the photo, and you were smiling, your cheek pressed against him as you embraced him. He just won a fight; he hugged you tight. Joe scrolled to the following image… it was a video; he played it. You giggled as he spun, cheering as one hand held you tight against him. You spoke gently, words that the camera didn’t pick up, nor did anyone else. He continued to scroll as he noticed that most photos were of you cooking in his house, at the park with him, on his couch with the laptop tucked on your thighs as you carefully examined whatever was on the screen. You took up a majority of his life and then nothing. Joe saw a picture of him and another look similar to the Batista family; he clicked on the tagged name. RafiBat didn’t post much, but when he did, he generated a lot of attention from women. He was a boxer, too, and he and his brother were often referred to as the Basista Brothers. He didn’t post you often, once or twice; that was in photos with Dominick. But it was evident that you both were friends. He was attending a university known for its Marine Biology program. He had been traveling overseas, where he had been for the last few months, pictures of him with sharks, fish, turtles, and some other classmates. There was a picture of you, smiling brightly in his bed with her belly exposed; it was small, possibly in the early months of your pregnancy. His caption read “My Everything.”

Joe’s attention was averted to the left as he noticed someone briskly walking, eyes concentrated on you. His hand dug into his pocket as he pulled out his phone, dialing quickly. He spoke before hanging up. Did you not notice? Did you feel someone following you? Joe broke off in a sprint, laughing softly before calling out your name; you peered over your shoulder in confusion, hesitating as you squinted your eyes at him.

Joe’s body collided against yours, taking your hand as he smiled gently. “Why’d you run off like that? I was looking for you everywhere!” he calls out exaggeratedly loud, his hand falling at his side; he watched your wide eyes swiftly snap to him while he continued to guide you forward, Joe’s hand pressed on your lower back. “Someone has been following you,” he whispered through a gritted smile. Her body stiffened as his words echoed through the stillness in the air; you were tempted to look, her head inching to the left slightly. “No, don’t look… Just keep walking baby.” You hummed in understanding. Joe peered over his shoulder, watching the man avoiding the dim street lights, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his body focused ahead of him, but he could see the whites of his eyes and the darkness of his orbs staring deep into your side. Then Joe remembered the small encounter you had at Peach’s party, the drunken party-goer grabbing you, retelling his woes of missing their friend group and a man who seemed to miss you just as much. Your body reacted negatively, your eyes watering, and your skin paled as you stumbled away from him. Joe watched your hands dance against your face, trying to wipe the anxiety that was trailing through your body. Joe wanted to lead you home, protecting you from the evils lurking in the shadows you weren’t aware of. Joe allowed you to lead you both to your apartment complex. Joe swiftly grabbed Rafael, allowing you to close the stroller. You put in the code 76477; Joe held open the door as you shuffled in your hands, digging through your satchel in search of your keys. He noticed three locks; just as if you practiced this a hundred times, you easily unlocked the door.

Joe smelled deeply, taking in the scent of baby powder and your aroma. Rafael rested against his neck, his chest breathing gently as he slept. His tiny breaths could be heard as they smacked against his pacifier. Joe scanned your apartment again; it was vastly bigger than Beck’s and his. His eyes fell on an opening; it wasn’t too big but just big enough to have a window, an oak-colored crib decorated with white and green. “You can just set him down in there…He won’t last too long in the crib,” He heard your voice as you locked the front door. You were latching on the deadbolts and other self-brought knick-knacks. Joe set Rafi down, brushing his hair out his face; he squirmed slightly in a panic. Joe quickly turned on the mobile, slightly out of reach for Rafi. He pressed a button; the mobile began to hum to live, and soon, water sounds came on. Splashing, sounds of whales and dolphins, and what seems like rain hitting the waters. It was soothing, and Rafi’s face soon mellowed. Joe allowed Rafi to hold unto his finger; his grip was tight as his body sprawled on the crib’s mattress.

“He usually isn’t so peaceful to put down. He must like you.” He heard you whisper; Joe peered over his shoulder, watching your head pressed against the door’s frame. Joe removed his finger, returning his attention to you. You walked out of the room as Joe followed you. The silence washed over you as you paced around the room, trying to find the right words. Joe stood there, waiting, allowing you to take as much time as needed.

“Joe?” You finally whispered, your eyes finally landing on him. In that moment, Joe felt your souls tying together, latching and burning into each other. “Thank you.” you pushed out, tucking your bottom lip into your teeth.

“I noticed him following you after the market…I didn’t know what to do but when I saw him trying to cross the street… Who is he?”

“Dominick, my ex’s brother. Rafi’s father.” Joe nodded; you trusted him, you trusted him. You weren’t a liar like Beck, “Dom and I were close; I even thought we would be together, but then he got a girlfriend. He stopped coming around, that’s when I met Rafael, he was gentle at first…but I guess that was the point. I had a fling with him and then with his brother, shit just got messy fast, and I got pregnant. That’s when he got abusive… I tried pressing charges, but his dad always dropped the cases, saying that I was a daughter of a junky prostitute and a “john.” I asked for a different judge and each time I was denied. I was finally….finally allowed to get a restraining against him, but it expired, and I wasn’t allowed to renew due to no current impending dangers.” Joe watched you; he stepped close to you, grabbing your arms. You sighed, looking up at him.

“If you need anything, anything… I am here for you.” Joe whispers; you nod, folding your arms underneath each other.

Please ask me to say; please beg me to stay. Joe thought; he nodded as he moved away from the couch. “Joe, wait!” You stood up, “You don’t mind staying for the night, do you? I would feel comfortable with a man around the house… just for the night.” Your voice is soft, and Joe could tell you needed him. He couldn’t deny you. He peered over his shoulder and smiled.

The night progressed as you lay in the bed, shifting uncomfortably in the bed. Your eyes squeezing shut, trying to feign being asleep in hopes of tricking your mind into slumber.

“Joe, are you sleeping?” You called out into the darkness, “Joe?” You called out once more, panicked; you sat up quickly squinting through the darkness as you watched his chest slowly fall and rise. You sighed for a moment, shifting comfortably in the bed.

“Yes?”

Joe rises from the couch, groaning as he shuffles to you. He crawls into bed, and you open the covers, allowing him to slide in. His eyes were low from being awoken from his sleep, his hands tight as he observed you move closer to him. You craved his warmth; a sense of comfort and protection seeped through to you. Your eyes focused on Joe’s, watching through the stillness of the night and the slight light that the moon gave you. His hand gently reached out, tucking your hair behind your ear, holding onto the strand until he reached the end. He moved closer, pressing a kiss on your forehead. He held it, trying to compose himself. He didn’t want to push himself onto you; he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He wasn’t going to be like your ex or your father. Joe pulled back, your eyes fluttering open hesitantly, and you moved closer to him. Your lips molded together, smacking in the silence as your slight hums vibrated into his mouth. He pulled away; you were vulnerable and seeking out comfort in him. He needed to wait to see if this feeling rang true. He wanted you more than you could know, more than he thought possible. He couldn’t take advantage of you like this, not right now… not ever. He cuffed your cheek, kissing your forehead before you, wishing you a good night.

Burning something evoked a wide range of emotions in Joe, a symbol of something new shifting in the atmosphere. The flicker of a match igniting, the scent of smoke swirling in the air, and the crackle of flames consuming the body— the overwhelming sensory experiences that engage him in the death of Benji. He stood over the growing flames, watching them dance against his body; Joe thought he would feel at ease. He couldn’t–his mind racing back to you and Rafi. Joe grew angry, feeling compelled to kill Benji; he was powerless against the woe of Beck, her smile and innocence being stripped away. It's as if his autonomy is being stripped away, leaving him feeling vulnerable and exposed. The heightened feelings of frustration and resentment began to grow through this loss of control.

He thought of you as he smelled the charred remains of Benji, your face dancing in the flames. He sighed, pushing his forearm against his brow. He quickly dialed you; he needed to hear your voice.

“Joey?” Joe heard you whisper, soothing all anxieties that rushed through him. His hand gripping the steering wheel. “Joey? Everything alright?” He hummed, letting his head rest against the steering wheel. It has been one month since he had forced his way into your apartment, leaving articles of clothing behind and coming up with any excuse to stay the night, not that you minded. He had a key to your apartment now, coming in the mornings and getting Rafi together for daycare as you prep for classes and graded papers. Your glasses hung off the bridge of your nose while you gnawed on the cap of the pen—your eyes shifting from the monitor to the paper as you scribbled some markings on it before moving on to the next. The way his lips danced against yours, his hands gently caressed your skin as your lips tangled.

“Yes, everything is alright.” He heard you shuffling, the covers shifting off your body. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, Joey, no, you didn’t. What’s wrong?” You could always read him; you would always tell. You didn’t even have to look at him to see that something was picking at him. He knew that you were good for him; you were everything that he needed you to be. Joe remained silent; the only that was heard was Rafi’s babbling. “Just come over and well talk, okay.”

“Okay.” Joe hung up and made his way to you, his head spinning from his recent murder. His fingers trembled as he pulled down your street, finding a parking spot adjacent to your apartment building. He moved out of the car. His key jingled in the locks swiftly; you swung open the door, watching in bewilderment. Worry drawn on your eyebrows and lips. “Joey, what is going on? Was it—”

“No…no, just Beck.” You nodded for a moment, allowing him to enter the apartment; slamming the door, you proceeded to deadbolt the locks. You stared at the final lock, trying to compose yourself; he wasn’t yours. You were just friends. Why did it hurt at the mention of her name at the thought of him being at her apartment, embracing her? “She just makes me insane, always having to watch her and look out for her. All the lies and the—” You picked up the clothes that scattered the floor, tossing them in Rafi’s dirty clothes hamper. Mindlessly, you grabbed the toys, tossing them in a bin as they interrupted his sentence.

“I see.” was all you could mumble out, your eyes flickering to him. He continued to ramble about how he didn’t trust her–how she was always so secretive around him. But that was Beck; the doe-like look in her eyes always masked the truth that crawled beneath the surface. She was manipulative; everything she did was calculated and meticulous. Her bold red lip contrasted against her pale skin, and her dress revealed just enough of her thigh to keep her professor yearning for more. The way she teased and poked at man’s most animalistic and primitive yearning, dangling it in front of their face before yanking it. You turned to face him, letting the hamper fall against the floor.

“I frankly don’t want to hear about Beck. I understand she’s your girlfriend or whatever she is but, I can’t take hearing about her. When you’re sitting in my apartment, helping me take care of my son… playing house with me. I don’t want to hear about Beck. I get enough of her when I am with them. Every issue that plagues her, I hear about, all the damn time. Benji, you, the Captian. I can’t–I just can’t do it.” You turn away, heated you move into the bathroom face burning with embarrassment and angry. Angrily you slapped at the knob, turning on the hot water on. It screeched for a moment before the hot water spit out.

As you step into the shower, the hot water cascades over your skin, offering a momentary reprieve from the turmoil. Droplets dance across your body, carrying away the remnants of anger and frustration that cling to you like a heavy cloak. With each passing second, the tension melts away, replaced by a soothing sensation of renewal. You close your eyes, allowing the water to envelop you completely, washing away the Beck and Joe's monologue that echoed in your mind. Steam fills the air, wrapping you in a comforting embrace as you stand beneath the gentle stream, letting it cleanse your body and soul. Slowly, the weight of the conversation begins to lift, replaced by a sense of clarity and calm. In this sanctuary of steam and solitude, you find solace. You sighed as the shower opened; you saw his feet planted in the shower and the sound of a soft sigh resting in the air. You feel his hands gliding against your waist, pulling you closer to him. His lips pecked your shoulder, sucking in the aroma that cascaded around him. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?” His hand gently drummed your abdomen, his cock hardening against you as he pecked at you, his hands moving to your breast, kneading at them slowly, letting his fingers squeeze and tug at your nipples.

“Please, forgive me” he whispered; you couldn’t say no to him. So, you nodded, turning around fully to face him. Pressing a gently kiss against his lip, stepping out of the shower, grabbing the towel as you instantly moved to Rafi’s crib.

As the tears streamed down his Rafi’s flushed cheeks, Joe’s heart ached with empathy. With gentle hands, he lifted the sobbing child into his arms, cradling him against his chest, his hand rubbing circles against his back something that he noticed his mom and he liked. Leaning close, he murmured soothing words in a soft, reassuring tone, his voice a balm to the boy's distressed soul. With each gentle stroke of his hand and whispered promise, Joe felt the tension begin to melt away from his Rafi’s trembling form. He rocked him back and forth, a steady rhythm that mirrored the beating of his own heart, a silent vow to always be there to chase away the shadows and dry the tears. Joe moved back your bed, and you reached out your arms, allowing Rafi to settle into your chest and Joe to cuddle back into your side. Rafi was a crybaby and wanted you to hold him 25/8; you wanted to break him out of that habit. Joe and you had been working on getting him to sleep through the night in his crib, it would only last two nights out of the week before Joe caved and dragged himself to Rafi’s crib, engulfing him in his arms. You didn’t bother to correct him; you could tell that something was off with him. You two didn’t speak much after your moment the shower; you didn’t try to get him to speak either.

A heavy knock on the door had woken Joe; he hissed in frustration, moving the walker out of the way as he stumped his toe against it. He looked back, seeing Rafi whining for him, his arm stretched as he crawled closer to the edge of the bed. Joe scooped him up, snatching your phone and checking the time—7:37 AM. He grunted as he moved to unlock the deadbolts and finally the door. The door swung open, revealing Peach. Her eyes widened as she glanced at Joe; quickly, she shook her head, trying to find the right words to say but couldn’t. Peach observed him, eyes squinted in fury and confusion. “She’s sleeping Peach.”

She called out your name, moving into the living room, her eyes falling on you as you lay in bed. Her head snapped to Joe, realizing that he was in his boxers. “What the fuck! What did you do to her?” Peach asked as she tried to grab Rafi. Joe stiffed her and backed away as she continued to reach for your son.

Joe held Rafi tightly in his arms as Peach had her outstretched arms and a determined frown on her face. Ignoring Joe’s protective grip, Peach reached for the child, her fingers brushing against Joe’s before clasping around the little one's hand. Joe’s heart skipped a beat, a surge of protectiveness welling up within him. He pulled back, his hand resting against Rafi’s back as he watched Peach’s face morph, her eyes narrowing before he turned her attention to you.

“Peach? What–What are you doing?” You shifted from the covers, you were in a grey crewneck, a B printed in brown and outlined in red. Your hair messing tied away from your face as you squinted to fully focus on her.

“No! No—what are you doing?” She hisses, stomping towards you, your finger jabbing into the air as she throws her hands dramatically.

“Peach, he was just—I saw Dominick. Since then, he has been here for me. Nothing… Nothing else has been going on.” You shouted over her rambles. Something in her face changed; she slammed her mouth shut, looking at you, taking in your words. She grabbed the back of her arm, holding it tighter to her person. Joe noticed the slight change in her demeanor at the mention of Dominick; he scared her.

“Did you–” You quickly shook her hand, stretching out your hands for Rafi; Joe quickly moved to your side, sitting on the edge of the bed as Rafi crawled into your lap. Joe’s hands rested on top of yours; he pressed his lips against Rafi’s head before cuffing your chin. He rose to his feet. He grabbed his things, placing them on his clothes. He jiggled his phone before leaving out of your apartment, a silent single for you to call him when she leaves. “When did that happen?”

“Nothing happened. He just was here for me at the time and… I trust him.” Peach laughs, sitting on the bed.

“Trust him, absolutely not. You know he’s playing you just like he’s playing Beck!” You rolled your eyes, unsure of what to make of her accusations. I mean, they weren’t incorrect in their entirety. Joe had a fleeting romance with Beck and probably still does. “He’s using you. I lost Beck to him, and I am not going to lose you. In this stupid ideology where you think you need him! You don’t need him! I am here for you; call me if you are feeling scared; call me if you are feeling down!”

“I know” you mumbled, caressing Rafi. “I shouldn’t trust him” you confessed. “I really shouldn’t” a bitter laugh left your throat as you chocked on a sob that rose in your throat.

“He could be like Rafael! You are so blinded by love that you didn’t see it then, but I did, and now, I do.” Peach whispered, as she inched in Joe’s spot. Resting her head against your chest, her hands wrapping against your torso.

Joe stood outside the closed door, his fists clenched at his sides, he strained to hear the muffled voices from within. Anger simmered beneath his skin, fueled by the snippets of conversation that reached his ears. Each word felt like a dagger, piercing through the thin veneer of his composure. He could hear her strained voice, a mixture with a Peach’s voice—a voice that grated on his nerves like sandpaper. His jaw tightened, muscles coiling with tension as he fought the urge to burst through the door and confront the source of his jealousy head-on. The temptation to intervene, to demand answers, pulsed through him like a steady drumbeat, drowning out reason and restraint. With every passing moment, his anger mounted, a raging inferno threatening to consume him whole. Yet, for now, he remained on the other side of the door, a silent witness to his own unraveling emotions. Something needed to happen, Peach was always in the way, the intricate dance of relationships that she always blocked. Stepping on his toes and stealing you away from him. Tangling you in her grasp, the same spell that Beck was under. She was a figure looming in the background, casting a shadow over any potential romance that Joe worked so hard to grow and nourish. Her presence was like a shield, deflecting any attempts at romantic advancement with a casual remark or a well-timed interruption.

He needed to kill her; her undoing was all the fault of her own.

Goodbye Peach Sallinger.

#imagines #imagine #request #requested #joe goldberg x you #joe goldberg imagines #joe goldberg x reader #joe goldberg #peach salinger #you imagine

201 notes · View notes

firephoenix23 · 3 months

Text

Like I literally have second hand embarrassment for Vox after seeing what Alastor ACTUALLY is like in a rivalry.

Like homie wishes he could be that close to Alastor 😂😂

#can we get an F in the chat for my man Vox 😂#I can imagine Vox like crying in his little incel tv room being why won’t Alastor say fuck you to me 🥺#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #alastor #lucifer #hazbin vox #staticradio #radiostatic #sorry this isn’t my usual content but I couldn’t help myself #this show is wild

28K notes · View notes

fictitiousmagines · 1 month

Text

You've already got me wrapped around your finger part 6

It was a little too easy to slip inside your quaint little house. You need to be more careful. You were at an all day appointment with your dad. The perfect time to check up on you. There's an urgency that overrides all reason. A deep need to see this area of your life that you seem to hide.

You don't need to hide from me. There's no need to be afraid that you'll run me off. You're never too much. Your life may be full, but I wanna be in it. And if I need to help you uncomplicate things, I will.

I worry about you, Y/N. I worry about your safety mostly. You take care of your dad, but who take care of you? I'm here to step in. I'm here to save you, by any means possible. From anyone, even yourself. You say you've got everything under control, but I've been thinking about a backup plan.

Your living room is ordinary but the natural light just pours in. I can't help but imagine the way the morning sun would kiss all your features. Like, when we were picnicking at the park. The sun illuminated every single freckle; the rosiness in your cheeks.

I'm trying to take in every detail; locate clues about who you are. I run my finger across the spine of a book you have discarded on the couch. Lapvona by Otessa Moshfegh. You've been begging me to read it with you. I've already finished it. Not my typical read, but you've been enjoying it all the same. I love that we talk about books, music and art. Not the typical shallow chatter you'd get, chatting someone up at the bar. I know you watch TV, but never mention it. Not that it matters much, but I wonder what you watch when you want to turn your brain off.

Your room, is by far the coziest in the house. I can still smell your perfume lingering in the air. Something fruity with just the tiniest hint of earthiness. I've smelled it on you, each time we have embraced. So inviting, it intoxicates me.

Your bed is unmade and lived in, and it takes everything I have not to throw myself into it. Your sheets are soft, like you. Everything about you is just so damn soft. I can't help but imagine holding you in this bed and tracing little circles on your back until you fall asleep. I want to be where you feel most safe.

On the corner of your bed is the new journal and I can't resist. Already written in. A quick sketch of me, from memory. And a quick entry about our steamy kiss on the porch. My heart is nearly pounding, even at the memory. Your lips against mine, my hands lightly on your hips. Your scent fills the air. That tiny wimper that escaped when I pulled away. The perfect kiss. I've replayed that moment on repeat. Seeing you write about it makes me suspect, you have too.

#joe goldberg x you #joe goldberg #joe goldberg imagine #joe goldberg imagines #joe goldberg x reader #penn badgley #penn badgley imagine #penn badgley x reader #you imagine #you imagines

67 notes · View notes

bittersweetarts · 6 months

Text

How to Disappear - Chapter 2

Soldier Boy (The Boys) x OC

Word count: 3933 words

Summary: Eden Reid can't help her curiosity, and Soldier Boy can't help but take advantage of that curiosity.

WARNINGS: Cursing, substance abuse, minor violence

Chapter 1 - Chapter 3 - AO3 Page

Chapter 2: Sweet

While Eden scoured for her co-worker, Matt’s phone number, and frantically begged for his plug’s contact info, Soldier Boy made himself home in Eden’s cabin. And the first item in his agenda whilst doing so, was to steal beer from Eden’s fridge… multiple bottles, without asking.

“This Bud Light shit’s not too bad.”

Soldier Boy remarked as roamed around Eden’s living space, while she stood not paying attention him, hunched over her kitchen counter, texting Jenna, the woman who was generous enough to be supplying her (or rather him) some blow. Unfortunate for Soldier Boy though, Jenna would not drive up to Norvin Green Forest just for her.

Setting her phone down on the counter, Eden took a breath and turned to face Soldier Boy, who was already watching her, and the two stared at each other. Soldier was still dressed in his ruined costume, and Eden momentarily wondered whether he was comfortable. Who the fuck cares, Eden thought, and snapped herself back to reality, pressing her lips together before speaking up.

“I found someone who selling, but she’s unavailable tonight. I’ll drive by to pick it up tomorrow”

At that, Eden saw Soldier Boy’s jaw clench before he feigned a smile, not saying anything.

The room was deathly-silent, and Eden felt that it was likely she was going to be killed if she did not think quick. Turning around and opening one of her cupboards, she pulled an unopened bottle of whiskey she had bought a very long time ago and mustered up as much charm in her tone as she could.

“I’ve got whiskey, and I can make something to eat. You must be hungry.”

Eden could feel the fakeness in her demeanor, and cursed herself for being such a terrible actor, but it seemed to work, as Soldier Boy walked up to her and took the whiskey bottle from her hand before responding.

“That would be nice, doll.”

Eden was now pressed against the counter, and could feel Soldier Boy’s acidic breath on her face as he spoke. He did not step back or create any distance as he opened the bottle one-handedly and took a swig. Pressing her lips together out of nerves, Eden side-stepped out of his proximity, and approached her fridge, glad that she always gets her groceries after she finishes work for the weekend.

With her fridge and pantry full, she willed herself to calm down and started making a midnight meal, as Soldier Boy leaned against the counter near her, and began to grill her about who she was, how he had ended up in her home, and what the fuck has happened since he last had opened his eyes.

The savory scent of seared meatballs took hostage of the cabin’s living room and kitchen, and as Eden continued to cook, Soldier Boy’s mood seemed to improve.

“… and the Super-Goldilocks is back in the Seven, forgiven just like that?”

“I don’t know, I kind of forgot about Starlight and she hasn’t been on the news in ages. I think she’s quit, that is if quitting is an option.”

Eden responded passively whilst stirring the pot of pasta, and Soldier Boy let out a loud, humorless laugh. The American ex-hero was now more than half-way through the large whiskey bottle, now dressed in oversized grey sweats and a dark shirt, or rather it was oversized for Eden, but him just right. Eden hated to admit it, but she doubted anything would look bad on him.

Dinner was going to take some time – Eden made the strategic choice to make something reasonably time-consuming, in case he intended to kill her post-meal, and in the event he’d kill her because the food was bad – and Eden had offered her shower, spare toiletries and a change of clothes after he had conducted his interrogation of her.

“Denver, Colorado.”

“So, you’re a Coloradan.” Soldier Boy asked, staring at her intently as she cleaned and chopped some onions, in her sweats and sandy-brown hair in a high pony.

“Born and bred.”

“Age.”

“Twenty-five. Turning twenty-six in a few months.” Eden did not see Soldier Boy raise his brows at her.

“What do you want from me?” This confused Eden, who furrowed her burrows.

“Nothing.”

“And you have never worked for Vought?”

“Nope, not interested.”

“And Butcher?”

“Butcher what?” Eden turned around to face the man in her cabin, setting down the knife she held onto the cutting board. “… You mean have I killed anyone? No, I don’t really like hurting people.”

The questions began to trail off and finish, and Eden’s answers seemed to satisfy Soldier Boy, as did her meal she prepared, which was a warm meatball stroganoff.

Eden wasn’t blind and could see that Soldier Boy was big, so she plated as much as possible on a large plate, and placed it on the single plain plastic mat which was laying on the kitchen dining table, along with a fork and knife. Soldier Boy had been already sat at the table, and smiled at her oddly enthusiastically.

“Bon appetite.” Eden said tiredly as she sat down a seat away from her guest, who had already began eating ravenously, ignoring her.

Unlike Soldier Boy, who only seemed more alive as each moment passed, Eden was exhausted, and could feel that tiredness in her bones. Probably due to that tiredness, Eden sat in silence, expressionless, as she watched her guest empty his plate and let out a satisfied burp.

“That was not half-bad, doll.”

Soldier Boy commented as he took another swig of the whiskey. But before he was able to set it down on the dining table, Eden grabbed the bottle, now not only tired but irritated by his comment, and chugged it near to its end. As she did, Soldier Boy met her brown eyes, lips quirked with a tilted head, as though amused by her little outburst. His face tilted down, as though daring her to say something, and with liquid courage, Eden did just that.

“Are you going to kill me? I’m tired, so if you’re not going to, I’m going to bed. Feel free to sleep on the couch, in the guest room, or don’t. You can leave, I really don’t care.”

As she finished speaking, the brunette could feel her head begin to spin, and dropped the bottle onto the table before pushing herself off her seat and stamping to her bedroom, not bothering to wait for her guest’s response, who simply raised his brows at her outburst and finished off the bottle.

Who the fuck does he think he is? Eden thought as she collapsed onto bed. Her bedroom door was open and Eden did not even bother to change before falling asleep.

The blaring, repetitive high-pitched sound of Eden’s alarm penetrated into her sleep, and as she woke up, Eden cursed herself for forgetting to switch it off for the weekend. It was a Saturday morning, so why the fuck would she need to be up at half past six in the morning.

Her eyes burned as she started at her ceiling, which was beginning to get lighter, signaling the start of a new day. Eden was just about to drift back into sleep, until she remembered the night before, and the large dangerous man in her cabin.

Soldier Boy.

Suddenly Eden’s heart began to race again and involuntarily the brunette sat up, as her body now jolted into complete consciousness.

Fucking hell. Eden thought, as she reluctantly sat up in her bed, still tired but now sleepless.

The November freeze was beginning to set, her room failing to maintain its warmth. On top of her clothing, which still reeked of cooked beef and seasoning, Eden threw on an oversized lilac hoodie and draped herself with her blanket as she walked out her room, and looked around her quiet house. Except for the unmade guest bed and last night’s cooking, there was no sign of him, and Eden wondered whether he had left.

As she cleared the mess from last night, the thought of him gone brought her relief, until she looked out the kitchen window and saw the fucker on the cabin’s deck, watching the sunrise.

Sighing, opened the kitchen back-door, and blanket still draped over her, Eden walked up to Soldier Boy, who did not react in any way, instead just watching the mountains and the trees against the backdrop of the sun rising. The morning birds began their song, and Eden would alternate between watching the scene and glancing at Soldier Boy, who stood unphased in the freezing cold in sweats and a thin black shirt, which was tight against his built chest and massive arms.

Of course he doesn’t feel the fucking cold.

“It’s a nice view.”

Soldier Boy was the first to break the silence, and as he spoke, the winter sun cast a golden hue onto his face. He was still watching the trees whilst Eden watched him, and as a sharp wind passed, Eden tighten the hold on her blanket. Not knowing what to say, and definitely not pegging him for a sentimental guy, Eden mumbled in agreement, looking away.

“It is.”

Eden was right, Soldier Boy was not a sentimental guy, and he was never one to appreciate nature. He didn’t give a fuck about it, never did, but for some reason, it caught his attention now. He didn’t feel like himself, not since he woke, and whilst Eden slept, Soldier Boy was left with his thoughts, processing what had happened to him.

He was betrayed by his team, again. He felt lost, again. He felt like a nobody, forgotten, a fucking loser, again. And he was so fucking sick of it. Still looking out, feeling oddly vulnerable, Soldier Boy spoke in his usual cadence.

“My name is Ben, short for Benjamin. Did you know that?”

Eden remained quiet, and Soldier Boy turned to look at the girl next to him, who shook her head again, still intimidated, and Ben chuckled in response.

“You can use your words, doll.”

“No.” Eden’s throat felt dry, and she still didn’t know what else to say.

“I was born in Philly. We don’t have as many mountains there.” Soldier Boy stated simply, before looking out at the mountains again, finishing.

“This really is a nice view.”

In this moment, Eden wondered whether he really was that threatening, or whether she was being a coward and judging him too harshly. Taking a breath, she spoke up.

“If you think is nice, you’d love Colorado. The mountains are much grander, and the nature is breathtaking.”

Soldier Boy turned back to face Eden, tilting his head.

“Then why’d you leave?”

The brunette took no offense, and smiled as she answered.

“No reason to stay.”

Turning away, Eden stripped the blanket off herself, ignoring Soldier Boy’s burning stare and deflected before walking away.

“How do pancakes sound? Not too brag, but my Home-Ec teacher said that my pancakes were the best in the class.”

“Bet they are.” Soldier Boy responded loudly, smiling with his teeth, his green eyes fixated on the now visible outline of Eden’s ass as she walked away, her hips naturally swaying with every step she took.

Eden quickly noticed that Soldier Boy – or rather, Ben – actually really liked her cooking, and she wondered whether that was why he hung about her cabin. The leftovers of last night’s pasta must have been finished while she was asleep, and similarly, the pancakes she made in the morning were completely devoured.

The only thing Ben seemed to like more than her cooking, was the weed she bought from Jenna. And Jesus, did it stink up the cabin. Eden thought she could handle it - the depletion of her fridge, the heavy scent of Ben’s smoking, and occasionally, some strangely intrusive questions – and on that first day, she did. When Eden wasn’t cooking food, she was sat on the living room sofa reading whilst the TV was playing and Ben was smoking and drinking, and when Ben wasn’t smoking or drinking, he took it upon himself to start a one-sided conversation.

“College?”

“Dropped out.”

“A good girl like you? Bullshit, I don’t believe it.”

“I’m not forcing you to, but I doubt I’d be living in the woods and working as a receptionist forty minutes away if I did graduate.”

Ben continued asking personal questions about her and occasionally opened-up about himself. Eden didn’t learn much, but she did learn that he went to boarding school, and that his favorite movie was A Streetcar Named Desire.

“Marlon Brando, now that’s a real man.” Eden doubted that Ben knew anything about the Last Tango in Paris movie controversy which involved Brando, and considering he literally belonged to the previous century, she doubted he’d care.

With that personality, he should thank God for his looks. Eden thought more than once.

As the days passed, Eden did not expect Soldier Boy to be so genial, but she didn’t question it. If he was going to hang around her, she’d prefer him curious and amiable, rather than hands wrapped around her throat (and not in the sexy way).

After two days of this though, Eden grew quickly tired.

Rather quickly, the food in her house ran out and Soldier Boy – correction, Ben – had almost finished the weed, despite her purchasing a copious amount. Eden wasn’t made out of money, obviously she wasn’t, no one was nowadays with rising fuel and energy prices.

And since her guest was not exactly bringing anything to the table, and Eden had to go back to her job the following morning, she started to feel a little tense. On top of that, Eden was used to being alone, having been like that for years now, and having company honestly drained her.

“Hey Ben.”

Dressed in her red coat, Eden walked up to her guest after clearing up the dishes from dinner (it was lasagna, so thankfully not that many dishes).

Ben was sat on a wooden chair on the deck, now in a simple white t-shirt, still smoking and drinking. As usual, when Eden was not talking to him, Ben sat alone with his own thoughts, and Eden wondered what took up so much space on his mind.

Soldier Boy hummed in response as she walked up to him, taking the seat beside him. It was rather late, still cold, but the sky was clear, and the moon shone brightly.

“I’ve got to get up early for work tomorrow, and I’ll be away until the evening –”

“Skip it.” Ben interrupted Eden with a grin, before taking another puff of his joint.

“I can’t.”

“Why the fuck not.”

This time when Ben exhaled the smoke, the wind blew it onto Eden’s face. Eden was never a particularly patient person, and unsurprisingly, she found herself irritated by this.

“Because who’s then going to pay for that weed. You’ve already asked me to get more, and money doesn’t fucking grow on the trees.”

A crack in Soldier Boy’s friendly façade appears, as his smile tightens.

“Cussing is not attractive, doll.”

“And neither is bumming it. Go fuck yourself. And my name is Eden, not doll. It’s twenty-twenty-two, not the fucking nineteen-seventies.”

Eden’s response was quick, and with every word, her voice raised, meanwhile Soldier Boy’s smile minimized and jaw clenched, as though he were restraining himself. Unlike Soldier Boy though, Eden could not bite her tongue and continued her rant.

“And while we’re at it, what exactly are you – are we – doing? I’ll be going to work and you’ll be here, doing what? You’re welcome to stay, but I don’t particularly want Homelander or Vought on my front-porch, ready to discard me as collateral damage.”

As she spoke, she unconsciously started gripping the chair’s arm, which began to crack, and Soldier Boy noticed this.

“I’m sure you can take care of yourself, doll.”

“Of course I can look after myself, but just because you’re here doesn't mean that I'm a little housewife, cooking and cleaning after you, whilst also working and watching my back for your enemies.”

At this, Soldier Boy’s patience finished and now he spoke in the same spiteful tone.

“I didn’t ask for your help, or for anything from you. You decided to play hero all on your own. And you know what I fucking think, sweetheart, I think that your panties have been dry for a very long time and you jumped at the first opportunity you saw a real man who could fix that for you. Nothing to be ashamed of or get prissy about.”

Soldier Boy’s monologue was cut short by the sound of sharp slap.

Eden, stood now, didn’t hold herself back when she slapped her hand against Soldier Boy’s cheek, and her super strength definitely showed, as Soldier Boy cupped the point of impact with his free hand, dropping his joint to the ground, his eyes now glazed with a look that infuriated Eden even more. Eden didn’t care if Soldier Boy would kill her now and continued insulting him.

“Jesus Christ are you delusional. I would stab myself a million before I even fucking touch you–”

Eden was unable to finish her sentence, because in the blink of an eye, her face was grabbed firmly, and she felt warm lips aggressively press against hers, and hairs scratch against her skin.

Eden didn’t even really like him, so why the fuck was her first instinct to reciprocate, close her eyes and open her stupid fucking mouth. And as they made out in the freezing cold, Eden suddenly felt to warm in her coat, and as Soldier Boy pulled her on top of himself, Eden, still very much kissing him, started peeling off her coat, feeling just too warm.

And the most embarrassing part was not Eden’s reciprocity, but that Soldier Boy was the first one to pull away and hold her back as she instinctively pushed forward to meet his lips again.

“You were saying, doll.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.”

Snapped to reality for a moment, Eden tried to pick herself up and get up from Ben’s lap, but before managing to do so, with strong hands around her waist, Ben pushed her back in, letting their lips collide again. Irritated with him yet again, Eden stubbornly refused open her mouth until he lightly bit her bottom lip, causing her to gasp, giving his tongue to opportunity to enter her mouth again.

Not that Eden would ever admit to him, but it had been a long time since she’d last have sex, specifically since her God U days before she broke up with her ex, and she has been practically celibate since. And something inside her took control as she was forced by her intuition, and ignored her rationality, similar to when she first saw Soldier Boy on the beach weeks ago.

Without realizing, Soldier Boy picked up Eden and she instinctively wrapped her around his waist, and her hands moved to his hair, gripping on the strands and inciting a groan from him. His lips were on her own, and on her jaw, neck, ears, chest, stomach, legs, and practically everywhere else, and as the night went on, the two of them did it in the kitchen, living room, and eventually reached her bedroom.

Ben would call her sweet, tell her she tasted just like that, and Eden would tell him to shut up, and to keep going. The brunette did not even know that this part of herself existed, the part of her that was so set on simply just fucking someone else and actually enjoying it, pleasure with no real love or attachment present, and Soldier Boy was more than happy to provide that experience for her, repeatedly, all night long.

When Eden woke up, she was not greeted by a warm body next to hers, but by the familiar blaring beeping of her stupid alarm. Eden’s eyes were blurry, and her head pounded as she sat up to switch off her stupid alarm, which informed her of the time. Half past six.

Eden’s head hurt, and as she rolled back to bed and turned to her side, flashes of the previous night came to her.

Her nails scratching his bare back as he entered her.

His teeth sinking into her chest, leaving temporary wet marks.

The bitter taste of his mouth, and how she didn’t entirely hate it.

Ben.

As Eden started remembering, she sat back up and her bed creaked, something it did not previously do. The brunette looked around her room, only to find it empty. Eden assumed that Ben probably went back to the guest bedroom, or maybe decided to get an early start to his drinking and smoking.

It wasn’t her business, but Eden was curious, and her feet moved on their own accord, first to the guest bedroom, which was empty, bed still undone of course. The house was quiet, with only the birds chirping in the background.

Odd.

As Eden ventured of to the living room, and then the kitchen, she found the place a mess – with throw pillow all over the place and glass shards scattered in one corner, from when Eden accidentally pushed it off the kitchen counter only some hours earlier – a consequence from their late-night activities.

Eden’s eyes scanned her living space, but no sign of the large man who had haunted her house for the past weeks could be found. Eden looked around the cabin’s front porch and back-deck, but it was just the same, empty. The only sign left of Soldier Boy was the small pile of laundry he left on the ground, and the stench of weed that occupied various spaces around the cabin.

Stop it.

Eden scolded herself as she went to freshen up for the day and get ready for work. Soldier Boy – Ben – probably felt cooped up and decided to go for a run or explore the area. And even if he left, who the cares. Eden sure as hell shouldn’t. Ben intruded in her space, contributed nothing, wasted her time and energy, and made such a mess. He was not nice, and did not sincerely thank her even once.

Sure, he was a good fuck, but that’s it. And was he even a good fuck if he didn’t even bother to put on a condom or ask if she was on birth control? That’s the thing about men, you couldn’t count on them for anything. That’s exactly why Eden had a copper IUD, because even with her ex of two years, she couldn’t count on him (apparently it didn’t feel as good with rubber).

Anyways, it doesn’t matter.

Or that’s what Eden tried to tell herself as she brushed her hair and applied lipstick, before heading out of her home, dressed in her usual outfit for work, a modest black dress and her coat. Glancing at the hallway clock, Eden observed the time, and saw that it was almost eight, which was the perfect time to leave, as she’d still have time to grab a coffee before reaching the clinic.

But as she looked at the trinket tray which sat on the cabinet by the door, she found it bare, missing something really important.

The keys to her Mazda.

The keys to her fucking Mazda were missing from the place she always kept them at, ever since she moved to her cabin over four years ago.

“Motherfucker.”

Author's Note: I'm feeling a little delirious, and I've proofread this but am not entirely certain about its quality and grammar. If there are any mistakes or something doesn't make sense, apologies! On another note, I've started watching Supernatural 🫡 Jensen Ackles, oml Also, if you are enjoying the story, I always appreciate comments as they really motivate me!

– Chapter 3

#soldier boy #ben #the boys #the boys amazon #fanfiction #soldier boy x oc #soldier boy x you #jensen #jensen ackles #jensen ackles fanfiction #homelander #vought #you imagine #hurt #hurt comfort #the boys tv #butcher #soldier boy ben #soldier boy x original character

30 notes · View notes