#every one carrying their respective city on their fucking back
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USA network shows from like 2007-11 were so goated because every one was like "the police force of x major American city is wholly incompetent. all their crimes are solved by a weird little guy"
#think about it#monk#psych#burn notice#white collar#every one carrying their respective city on their fucking back#on like my 3rd burn notice rewatch and cant stop thinking about this
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Where the Storm Looms
Copyright Ⓒ 2023 by Moonjxsung
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner. Doing so will result in a legal takedown per the Digital Millennium Copyright Act and is subject to legal action.
*This fic is part 2 to “When the Rain Stops.” You can read part 1 here.
Pairing: Lee Minho x fem reader
W/c: 13k
Warnings: smoking, drinking, mention of cheating, mention of masturbation, mention of casual sex, brief mention of calories, nipple play, unprotected sex, bulge kink, creampie, squirting
Synopsis: Now living in the city he despises, Minho is determined to find you again- despite the sacrifices he’ll have to make.
18+. mdni!
•
They say if you love something, you have to set it free. And if it comes back to you, it’s yours.
So what implication can be drawn if you go searching for it- for three months and 13 days straight?
Minho isn’t sure.
The city is just as grimy as he remembered it- teeming with the sounds of pushy street vendors, bumper-to-bumper traffic and conversations of plummeting stocks at every corner. The coffee is overpriced, and the people dress in gray slacks even on laundry day. The girls are pretty- they’re decent in bed, they work good jobs and they can carry a conversation well as long as it involves their respective companies or an ex-boyfriend.
But none of them are you.
Minho feels stupid for thinking about it this extensively. A random hookup in his bar as a result of bad weather conditions- one you never even bothered saying goodbye to him after, and yet he’s still hung up on you.
That stupid game. He should've never let you fix that arcade game. Maybe then you wouldn’t have stayed so long, wouldn’t have kissed him back even though he’s the one who initiated it. Wouldn’t have let him fuck you on the pool table, moaning his name over and over again like a prayer permanently etched into his memory. But he didn’t stop any part of it- in fact, he didn’t want to. Minho knows he wouldn’t have been able to deny you anything you asked for that night, not with the way you looked at him through wide sparkling eyes, scared you’d angered him, when all he really wanted was to keep you safe. Safe from the storm, safe from people with ill intent. He’d pour you a hundred cups of Diet Coke on the rocks if you asked, or be a chance card in another game of pool you’d inevitably lose at. He’d make love to you repeatedly on any surface inside the dive bar, kissing you every chance he got like it would be his last. Because you changed something in him that night- and he’s determined to find you again.
*
“Still waiting on that garlic bread. And we have another order for fettuccine.”
Minho nods once, drizzling a pan with olive oil and prepping the ingredients that sit in disarray on the counter in front of him.
Tales from the hotel kitchen.
So maybe getting his job back as a private chef was a harder feat than he’d originally anticipated it to be. But Minho’s sudden assimilation back into city life meant he had to make adjustments- sacrifices. And although he’s still technically the owner of the little dive bar 6 hours out of the city, he recently signed co-ownership off to Jeongin, who’s been practically running the place while Minho does some soul-searching in the city.
Of course, the soul he’s searching for is nowhere to be found.
Coffee shops, bookstores, convenience shops, dive bars... Minho recently read there are nearly 2 million people in this godforsaken city at any given moment of the day. That’s a 0.0000005% chance he’ll run into you again. Coupled with the fact he’s already run into you once before, and slept with you, the odds are considerably lower. But nonetheless, the objective remains.
Sometime after the initial run-in, Minho also realized he knows nearly nothing about you. You never spoke of an occupation, or a significant other, or even your favorite color. He does know you live in the city, you’re vulnerable against married men and you can use a screwdriver like a cellphone. The rest is left to his wandering imagination.
“Minho, your bread is burning,” a voice interrupts, and he snaps out of the daze he’s in to lower the heat on the oven. Minho’s sous chef Seungmin sighs in irritation, practically pushing Minho aside to retrieve the loaf from the oven himself.
“Do you want me to take over for the evening? You seem really distracted and we’re super busy out there.”
“No, I’m fine,” Minho says, his eyes darting briefly to the window across from him.
Dark rain clouds loom over the afternoon sky, but it doesn’t rain- in fact, it hasn’t rained once since that night. At first, he sees it as some sort of blessing, attributing the mostly-clear skies to your presence somewhere in the city. Perhaps where you go, the sun follows.
But he quickly realizes that it’s more of a curse, this constant storm looming over him, taunting him with promises of darkened clouds and rainfall, only for the nighttime to bring clear skies once again.
It never rains anymore. Sometimes Minho thinks he imagined you, that night in his bar.
Maybe he imagined the rain, too.
*
The ceiling of this apartment is in desperate need of some TLC, Minho thinks, as he lays in bed that night with hands folded over his chest. It’s riddled with cracks and imperfections, running along the drywall like a design choice. But it’s not a design choice- it’s a result of the shitty architectural integrity of this crowded city. Everyone’s so desperate to live out here they’d put up with leaky roofs and cockroaches before they’d live in the suburbs. Minho thinks back to his apartment in the suburbs, where his three cats are currently being taken care of by a friend, and the biggest pain point is patching up thumbtack holes when he moves things around. It’s spacious, a lot bigger than this dump, and it’s a hell of a lot cheaper.
There’s no set time Minho has dedicated to being out here. “When the time is right, I’ll leave,” he told his friend, averting his gaze to avoid raising suspicions about his intentions out here. But to most, it’s clear Minho is going through something. His hair is visibly longer, the silky ends of it now resting just above his shoulders. He can’t be bothered to care about what he wears, knowing very well that he doesn’t blend in with the other city-dwellers when he’s in jeans and a baggy t-shirt. But without the bar to dress up for like he used to, he doesn’t find reason in trying.
Minho’s also well aware that he looks like a complete lunatic, coming out to the city like this to search for a hookup. If your paths do cross, there’s a likelihood you’ll call the police and have him arrested for stalking. You could also have zero recollection of who he is, or that you ever hooked up with him. You could have a boyfriend, be married by now, or just not interested in Minho. Maybe you regret that night. Maybe you lied about being from the city. You could be on the other side of the world by now, and he’d have no clue.
But he feels it- he feels you, in this city, at every corner he turns. He sees traces of you in the people who smile at him when he passes them by. He sees you in the people who hold doors open for him, the baristas who make foam hearts in his lattes every morning, even the businessmen when they catch themselves admiring the beauty of the buildings on a smoke break. He sees you in all things good, when he’s reminded momentarily that the world has more to offer than boxing him in the confines of a dark bar out in the suburbs. And while he’s not completely in love with life all over again, it’s a start.
The hotel patrons give their compliments to his cooking, and he’s reminded of his days as a private chef again, chasing the sweet high of people fawning over his entrees and desserts. When he calls Jeongin to check up on the bar, he remembers the view out the window by the kitchen- nothing but a parking lot, empty most days, or plagued by truck drivers and prostitutes.
Sure, his apartment window in the city faces a brick wall, but he can escape at any given moment of the day to be part of the towering skyscrapers and city lights that stay on all night. It’s then that he feels bad for Jeongin, who doesn’t have the same luxury all the way out there.
Of course, Minho also remembers the sex from that night. It plays in his head on a loop, often echoing in his brain at the worst of times. The way you’d called out his name was all but intoxicating, chanting it in the empty space of the spare room like you’d done it a hundred times before. Your fingers looped through his hair, massaging his locks in praise while your moans did the rest. Your lips on his, smiling when he teased you about the game of pool- teasing him back, like the complex woman he knew you were.
He remembers the way your hardened nipples felt between his fingers, memorizing their feel with his nimble hands while he pressed his third erection of the night against you, a confession that this is what you do to me.
The way you took him with complete ease, undoubtedly craving him, too, gushing with arousal as he fit so perfectly inside you.
“You’re so big,” you’d said to him, and Minho isn’t sure he ever felt confident in his girth until it was inside of you, thrusting in and out like he was trying to make his semen catch, painting your walls white while you squirted on his still-hard cock.
He can’t get off with girls from the city unless he’s thinking of you and him, in the bar, bent over the pool table. He also avoids the spare room of the bar now, getting hard almost instantly at the sight of it.
It’s embarrassing, and he knows it, tucking his now-softened cock back into his boxers and reaching for tissues on his makeshift cardboard box nightstand. The shame washes over him as he folds his hands over his chest again, eyes locked with the shitty drywall ceiling. Have the cracks gotten bigger? He’s not sure of the large one to the left, caving in toward the window in the shape of a backwards L. If it rains, the roof will surely leak. How do you fix a leaky roof? Is it ever going to rain again? Where are you?
*
On a random Tuesday in the middle of the month, Minho runs into Jisung again.
He’s out by one of the tall buildings in the financial district, one hand shoved in the pocket of his suit while the other brings a turquoise-colored vape up to his lips.
Of course he vapes, Minho thinks. He’s just as predictable as he’s always been.
“Is that the Lee Minho?” Jisung says, blowing a cloud of strawberry-scented smoke into the air. Minho shrugs, saying nothing as he approaches Jisung.
“What are you doing all the way out here? Lost ownership of the bar or what?”
“No,” Minho replies, a stoic expression on his face. “I’m living here.”
“You’re living here? You? Avid hater of city life and all things that inhabit it?”
“Yeah,” Minho says, counting black spots on the concrete below him. “Not permanently. Just looking for something.”
“What are you looking for?”
Minho swallows momentarily. He knows he could bring up your name, and Jisung would probably know where to find you. After all, the two of you bonded over your love of the city before you almost went home with him that night. But he refrains, suddenly feeling a little jealous and overprotective. It’s the reminder that Minho was technically a second choice- maybe you’d just slept with him to get some relief for the sexual tension you felt with Jisung. You did lecture him when he cockblocked you, after all.
“Seeing if the apartments are better out here,” he settles on saying. “They’re not.”
Jisung chuckles. “Yeah, well, I could’ve easily told you that.”
He slides his vape back into the pocket of his suit, adjusting the buttons as he begins to speak again.
“When was the last time I saw you, anyway?”
Minho blinks nervously. His mind races with options of what to reply, but Jisung is faster.
“That storm!” He finally exclaims, clapping enthusiastically. “When we were stuck there while it rained fucking cats and dogs out there. You, me and Miss ‘hard to get’.”
“Right,” Minho says, his pulse quickening a little at the mention of you.
“Can you believe she backed out like that? I went back to that hotel with blue balls like you wouldn’t believe. I bet she’s a good fuck, too, the way she’s persuaded so easily.”
Minho grows irate, doing his best to refrain from lashing out at Jisung to defend you. The way he speaks about you like you’re disposable, like you weren’t only swayed by him because he puts on this act, one where he’s single and nice. Both polar opposite of the sleazy man standing in front of Minho right now.
“Doesn’t matter,” Jisung says. “I ran into her like a week after that, anyway.”
Minho feels his heart stop. He finally makes eye contact with Jisung, voice hitching in the back of his throat as he searches for words to say. What were you doing? What were you wearing? Were you with anyone? Did Jisung try to pursue you again? Was there any trace that you were as changed by Minho as he is by you?
“You did?” Minho queries.
“Yeah. She remembered me, for sure. Said she googled me and found out I was married. That’s the problem with women these days- they fucking google you. Who does that?”
Minho observes the way Jisung snorts with laughter, shaking his head like he’s not a serial cheater himself.
“Where was she?” Minho asks, quickly aware of the way the question comes off as a little too bold.
“Uh… I can’t remember. Think we were in the parking garage off 7th. She was all dressed up like she was going to work or something. Must be a private investigator with the way she stalks her potential hookups.”
Minho laughs internally at the irony.
“Why do you ask?” Jisung chimes in again, sounding a little skeptical of Minho’s behavior now.
“Nothing,” Minho says quickly. “Just curious.”
Jisung nods slowly, not taking his gaze off of Minho. He’s visibly tense, thoughts circling his mind as he tries to recall the buildings on 7th.
“I should get going,” Jisung says, pulling his vape back out to take another hit, much like the nicotine-addicted cheater Minho sees him for.
“Good catching up,” Jisung finishes, exhaling a cloud of smoke into his face. “Catch you later.”
And as Minho leaves, he turns back around to Jisung, pausing momentarily before speaking again.
“Oh, Jisung?”
“Yeah?”
Minho cocks his head slightly.
“Your wife really deserves better.”
*
The parking garage on 7th is a shithole. It’s a narrow, almost cylindrical building, filled back to back with rows of fancy cars. Minho remains parked on the third floor, sat in his car like he’s staking out the place, eyes darting over every passerby in hopes you’ll be one of them.
But they’re all middle-aged folks, blabbering into their cellphones with briefcases in hand, no sense of purpose for the life they’re living aside from money, and maybe their fancy cars.
He sighs, reaching for a cigarette and cupping his hand over the lighter to set it ablaze. Smoking is a recent development. Minho doesn’t think he’s chain-smoked like this since his culinary school days, when he’d spend late nights preparing for exams and practicing his plating techniques. It’s not that the cigarettes relieve him, nor does he even care for the flavor. But he does it as a form of sacrifice. The city keeps you from him, and consequently, he’s pulled back largely from things he actually enjoys, choosing to mirror the actions of the city-dwellers. Smoking, casual sex, drinking, dressing down, hardly ever eating full meals. He’s become reduced to a product of the disdain he feels for himself, spiraling further with every cruel reminder that you’re not his.
When his car stakeout passes the three hour mark, Minho is all out of cigarettes. He’s also starving, and dying for a beer. So he pulls out of the lot, most of the spaces vacant now, anyway, and starts the painful trip back to his apartment. The streets smell like sewage with his windows rolled down, but his own car reeks like a cheap casino. With one hand hanging loosely over the door of his car, Minho speeds down the crowded streets, groaning when he’s promptly halted by a red light. Cars press their horns impatiently as nobody seems to move. Minho glances to the right of him, scanning the streets that begin to darken as night falls. And then he sees it- a dive bar. It’s a city dive bar, of course, tainted by its rustic gentrifying decor and teeming with hipsters. But he’s sure you’re in there, knowing you probably regularly finish work and hit up the nearest bar to down Diet Cokes and chicken wings. In a frantic motion, Minho puts the car in reverse, using one hand to steer as he makes an illegal u-turn. The cars around him honk angrily, shouting profanities and pulling up to fill his spot. But he crosses several lanes to reach the bar, a sense of anticipation bubbling inside him already.
*
The place is much fancier than Minho’s, albeit much smaller. An open bar makes up most of the dive bar itself, a sleek laminate wood finish surrounding the series of draft beer dispensers. The wall above the bar is plastered in license plates from all different regions, and the patrons around all appear to be tourists judging by the way they take photos of it. There are several bartenders working tonight, the nearest one to Minho being a heavily tattooed gentleman with bleach blonde hair.
“What can I get you?” He asks enthusiastically, holding a pen and pad in his hand. Minho’s not sure he’s ever seen a bartender write down an order for a single beer.
When the bartender makes his way to the tap, Minho sits on one of the circular red stools. They’re a little too tall for his liking, swiveling around erratically while he catches his balance and glances around at the patrons. He’s the only one alone here, standing out even more in his loose jeans and an old jersey.
“That’s $12,” the bartender says when he returns.
“Can I just run a tab?” Minho asks, scoffing internally at the steep price.
“First drink’s upfront payment,” the bartender replies, flipping a tablet around to Minho for his payment details. Minho swipes his card and confidently smashes the ‘no tip’ button, earning a little eye roll from the bartender. These bars are nothing like his back home.
When the bartender moves away to attend to another patron, Minho swivels around on his stool, scanning the bar for a sign of you. There’s not a single cup of coke on any of the tables here. Everyone’s happily sipping away at whiskeys and vermouths, their drinks clutched closely in hand as they chat about their boring lives. Minho tunes in briefly to a conversation about someone’s broken toe and sighs, wishing so badly he had you to converse with. You’d probably laugh at all of Minho’s jokes about the people here, agreeing with his presumptions of them. See him? He’s definitely compensating. That guy there needs to cool off the vodka seltzers. She’s definitely not interested in him.
As he takes a sip from his mug of beer, it suddenly catches his eye. The arcade game, tucked away in the back of the bar like a little secret. It’s neglected, probably no one around old enough to know how to operate the thing. Minho rises from his seat, making his way to the game and smiling at the sight.
It reminds him of you, the giant black display of Galaga, decorated with whimsical drawings of aliens and Galaxian Flagships. He pulls out a quarter, slotting it in the machine, because of course you have to pay at this one, and slots it in, waiting for the thing to start up.
Only it doesn’t, the game not even emitting so much as a hum from the monitor. He smacks it a few times, partly in efforts to start it up, and partly to reclaim his last quarter. But it’s a moot effort- the game is completely dead.
Minho makes his way back to the bar, frustrated at the deja vu of broken arcade games and the memories they bring back to him.
“Your game’s broken,” Minho says to the bleach blonde bartender.
“Huh? Oh, yeah. That thing’s been dead for months now.”
“I put a quarter in. Swallowed it and won’t spit it out.”
“Yeah, it does that. Sorry, man.”
“Sorry? You should be. That thing shouldn’t be down here if it isn’t working.”
The bartender narrows his eyes as he mixes another drink for a patron.
“Yeah, well, people don’t usually try it. Again, sorry man. Not really anything I can do about it.”
Minho is angry now, his ears flushed a crimson shade as he speaks, not in any mood to reason with the bartender.
“Look man, just give me my quarter. Can’t you key the machine or something?”
“We don’t have access to it. It’s from some local vendor. You’re welcome to go find a few pennies on the ground if the 25 cents means so much to you.”
“What the fuck kind of behavior is that for a bartender?”
The other patrons and bartenders have noticed now, quieting down as they watch Minho down a few more sips of his beer angrily.
“Look man, you’re gonna have to leave. I can’t have you in here acting like this.”
“I want my quarter.”
“I can’t get your quarter, dude. It’s gone. Get out before I call the police.”
“Why don’t you hire someone to fix the machine, then? There are people in the city who do that, you know. I know someone who’d get it fixed in seconds. She’d be able to get the fucking quarter out, too.”
“Call the police,” the bartender says to another, and Minho raises his hands up in surrender.
“Relax, I’m leaving.” He chugs the rest of his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as the other patrons look on in shock. Nearby, a different bartender has a phone clutched in his hand, ready to dial the cops like they’d requested.
“Tell me one thing,” Minho says before turning around.
The man says nothing, eyes narrowed in fear as he waits for Minho to finish.
“You guys sell Diet Coke here?”
The bartenders look around at each other nervously, confused at the question.
“We only have Pepsi,” one chimes in.
And Minho nods, understanding.
“Take care,” Minho says, waving them off as he finally exits the bar.
*
“I need you to come back for a little bit,” Jeongin says into the receiver one morning. He sounds panicked, like he might break down at any moment. Minho knows he wouldn’t request this of him if it wasn't something serious.
“Okay,” Minho replies. “What happened?”
“The place was robbed last night. By a group of guys. Nobody’s hurt, but they did have a knife on them. Cleared out one of the registers.”
Minho sighs, suddenly feeling awful about being out here. What is he doing out here when the business he owns is being threatened? Even worse, putting Jeongin and the other staff at risk while he embarks on the futile task of searching for what’s already gone? There’s no good explanation for it. It’s selfish- sure, he’s finally chasing after what he wants, but it’s a selfish task nonetheless.
“I can be there this evening,” Minho says, already mentally preparing himself for the six hour drive out there. “Just close up for the day. Make sure everyone gets home safe and knows they’ll be paid for the day anyway.”
Jeongin understands, hanging up on his end of the line and closing up the bar.
As Minho tosses his cell phone aside, he looks around the apartment, sighing heavily when he observes the state of things. His stuff is still stored away in cardboard boxes, the apartment looking more like a showroom than a space lived-in by him. The walls remain bare of any form of decorations, the tiny excuse for a kitchen is void of dishes and cutlery, even his toiletries are in travel bags, like he’s ready to go home at any given moment. And he just might be, after this week’s events.
*
The drive home is as excruciating as he remembers it. Exiting the city means sitting in miles of traffic, alongside impatient city-dwellers who somehow voluntarily make the commute everyday for their jobs. Minho briefly wonders if you’re in the traffic, too. You’re a little impatient, he remembers, thinking about how you demanded a phone charger from him that night in the bar. Only your impatience is something he’d gladly put up with in traffic like this, probably taking the opportunity to play his favorite songs for you and listen to you talk his ear off. He sighs to himself, wishing so badly you could fill the empty leather seat next to him, currently inhabited by empty cigarette boxes and discarded takeout boxes.
Six agonizing hours later, the sun’s beginning to set as Minho pulls into the familiar parking lot of the bar. Waning beams of sunlight reflect off the old bar sign, almost luring Minho inside as the nighttime chases closely after. When he unlocks the door and makes his way inside, it’s like he never left. The red booths are vacant, the peeling vinyl of their seats still scattered across the floor like he remembers. Bottles of alcohol neatly line the shelves behind the counter, which don’t reside far from the shiny mugs and glasses inside the cabinets. Minho runs a finger over the counter, well impressed with the state of the bar since Jeongin’s taken over. It’s impeccable, almost better than it was when Minho first left.
“Minho?” A voice calls, and a figure peeks from around the corner.
It’s Jeongin, who looks different in casual wear for the day, sporting a pair of sweatpants and a simple black t-shirt. He’s wearing his signature pair of thick framed glasses, running a hand through his hair as he takes a seat on one of the barstools.
“It was this register,” he says, gesturing to the one closest to Minho. “I think it was roughly $300 in there. They all had dark jackets and I couldn’t see their faces.”
Minho nods, opening the register to investigate, and then slumps back in the stool behind the counter.
“I’ll take the remaining cash to the safe. Let’s stay closed for a few days while I file a police report. They’ll probably want to poke around in here, and I don’t want any of the patrons to panic.”
It’s Jeongin’s turn to nod, making a mental note of Minho’s instructions. After a brief pause, he speaks again.
“How’s the city?”
“The city is…the city.”
Jeongin chuckles lightly, shaking his head.
“Are you working?”
Minho nods. “Not my private chef gig. But it’s a restaurant. I have a sous chef, which helps. It’s nothing special, though.”
There’s a moment of silence as Jeongin traces the table pattern with his fingers. He wants to ask more from him- he wants to know why Minho’s out there in the first place, why he even agreed to sign co-ownership off to Jeongin when this was his bar he was so proud of for all those years. But there’s seemingly no courteous way to go about it- any which way, he feels like he’s overstepping. Minho is usually on the quieter side, only confiding in his colleagues when it’s something that affects the business.
“Minho, are you…” he begins, his voice wavering in fear that he’ll unintentionally offend.
“Have you found what you’re looking for?”
Minho is silent, and for a second, it’s hard for Jeongin to gauge his reaction. His eyes remain locked on Jeongin’s pupils, trembling in discomfort as he thinks back to you. He thinks of the city, of the bar fight, of the hours spent in a dingy parking garage and the cracks in his apartment ceiling.
Jeongin begins to take back his question, disappointed in himself he’s even chosen to utter the inquiry. But Minho finally does give an answer, albeit a vague one.
“Not yet,” he replies, swallowing nervously before continuing. “You’ll be the first to know.”
When Jeongin leaves, he takes the cozy atmosphere of the bar with him, and the place now feels colder, more unfamiliar. Minho looks out the window at the darkness that envelopes the parking lot, feeling a sense of unease in knowing he’s going to leave it all behind again. This bar needs him, it needs stability. It needs someone to look out for the people who are vulnerable to sleazy married men or robbers. As he pockets the cash to transfer to the safe, he glances at the yellow Pac-Man game, sitting proudly where it has for the past three months since its repair. Little ghosts dance along the display screen, prompting users with ‘press A to start’.
Minho simply walks past it, knowing very well there’s little joy in a game that only brings back painful reminders. He makes his way to the back office, where the red leather couch and desk still remain. The cash is deposited in the safe, and the keys in the file cabinet- third drawer from the top.
Minho feels a gravitational pull to the spare room upstairs- he knows he shouldn’t, very well aware that he’s only hurting himself by picturing you up there. But still he does. Hands shoved in his pockets, he makes his way up the creaking stairs and through the little hallway.
The room is just as suffocating as he remembers it. The same old pool table sits in the middle of the room, and at the back where the arcade game previously lived, there’s a rectangle on the carpeted floor where it once sat, contrasting a bright untouched green to the older, worn down carpet. Minho doesn’t leave the doorway; he just stands, observing the room in all its mundane appearance. His eyes remain on the spot you’d previously hoisted yourself up to sit on the pool table, and he can almost see himself looming over you, too. From this angle, it doesn’t feel like it ever happened. It plays more like a cheap movie where a famous scene was shot. Like a figment of his imagination.
Have you found what you’re looking for?
He hasn’t, not yet. But seeing the potential of this old room, in the bar he owns, Minho knows it’s finally time to stop searching.
*
Back in the city, Minho’s days are numbered by the countdown. Two days until he’ll leave all this behind, for good this time.
The kitchen is busier than normal on this gloomy Thursday, more staff than usual working floor while others make trips up to hotel rooms for delivery.
Minho drizzles pans with olive oil in between plating a shrimp scampi, tonight’s special. The air is thick and fragrant with seafood and Parmesan cheese.
“I need a lava cake for room 302!” Seungmin exclaims to Minho in a rushed tone.
“On the cart by the door. Second row.”
Cooks work diligently in their respective areas, and Minho wipes his brow with the back of his sleeve. It’s a stressful role, no doubt, but he still feels a sense of sadness knowing he won’t be back to cooking like this once he’s back in town. He tries to mentally prepare himself for days of mixers and signature cocktails again.
“Minho, get out of here and go take a lunch,” Seungmin says as he reappears from behind the door. “That way the schedule doesn’t rearrange.”
Seungmin is a blunt sous chef, but he’s dedicated to his work. Minho knows he’ll have no problem working his way up to a head chef role one day. He appreciates his attention to detail and ability to work with difficult patrons, and he’d certainly entertain the idea of bringing him to work at the bar back home if he liked.
“On it,” Minho says, already pulling off his apron.
“Oh, and can you bring a Diet Coke to table 6 out there? I brought regular on accident.”
“Yup,” he says plainly, grabbing a clear glass from the clean stack and filling it at the fountain.
Minho thinks back to his apartment- this might be his last day at work, but he still has a generous amount of packing to do when he gets home. He’s relieved he kept most of his stuff in boxes, or else he’d easily be stuck here another week.
Minho counts boxes in his head, balancing the glass in one hand and his apron in another as he exits the kitchen to the seating area. He’s seldom out here, only really passing through when he gets in for the day. But he’s not in charge of serving guests, and the whole thing suddenly feels a little uncomfortable to him. Quiet jazz music plays overhead as tables fill the room with noise of their conversations, everyone dressed up with legs crossed neatly under white tablecloths.
Minho looks around frantically as beads of condensation on the glass wet his hand- where the hell is table 6?
A family sits at the back, every member paired with their drink of choice. An older couple sits closer to Minho, two cups of coffee steaming in front of them.
And by the window, two women deep in conversation- one of them passionately sharing tales of work or perhaps a lover.
And the other one, you.
Minho thinks he’s hallucinating for a moment, when he first observes you sitting there. You’re nodding as the other woman talks, a smile pulling on your face as she exaggeratedly makes a hand motion during her story. You’re not dressed like the other city-dwellers here, looking starkly more beautiful in a sweater and a pair of jeans. You’re the only one in here wearing jeans, aside from Minho. He smiles when he takes notice.
Another server passes Minho in a rush, shoving by him with a tray of food in hand.
“Oh sorry,” he says, eyeing him a little confused. “Did you want me to take that? I know you’re on lunch.”
Minho grips the coke firmly in his hand, shaking his head almost immediately. He’s never refused something so fast in his life before.
“No, I got it,” he says, finally taking the first step toward your table.
Minho glances down at his appearance briefly, fixing the collar of his shirt as he approaches you. He’s a little more dressed up for his last day here, a pastel blue button-up tucked into his jeans, his now long hair parted down the middle. He wishes he could tuck back into the bathroom and see himself more clearly, but he knows he’ll lose you if he doesn’t make his move now.
Minho’s thought of this moment so many times, replayed the conversation in his head like a speech he’s been waiting to give. He wants to proclaim his adoration for you, giving you a romantic explanation of how he’s searched for you all these months and never stopped thinking of you. And in an ideal scenario, you’d say the same, kissing him in front of all the restaurant-goers here and leaving back to town with him to live happily ever after.
But he’s never considered the idea of a friend being present. Or being crunched for time on a 30-minute lunch break. It’s all happening so fast, and his head spins with anxiety as he approaches you.
You’re still in conversation when he sets your Diet Coke down at the table a little too hard, hoping to get your attention. You don’t so much as look his way as he does, and he lingers by your table for a moment as he thinks.
“Do you need a straw?” Minho asks, eyes darting over your face briefly. Your hair is a little longer, too, but you look the same. He’s sure you’re not a hallucination.
“No thank you,” you say, finally glancing over at him to give a small nod.
And just like he’s lost for more words, you seem to be too, lips parting slightly as you keep your gaze fixed on his.
*
“Thank you for lunch,” you say to your colleague at the end of the meal, who’s been passionately talking about her recent project at work for the last hour.
You tuned her out after the first 15 minutes, being completely awestruck when the server delivered your requested Diet Coke to your table.
Either the brain fog from work is finally starting to catch up with you, or you’re simply too tired. But the server looks exactly like Lee Minho, the bartender you slept with a few months ago. Normally, you’d tuck away and hide at the sight of running into a hookup again. But Minho wasn’t just a hookup to you.
He’s lingered amongst your thoughts for the better part of those three months, the polite action of protecting you from sleeping with a married man and letting you seek shelter in the storm remaining some of the nicest things someone’s ever done for you.
He wasn’t just a hookup, not with the way he spoke of his hopes and dreams and asked about all of yours. And then he fucked you like a husband, the feeling you got from him bending you over the pool table like that still sending chills down your spine.
Your colleague pulls her scarf and coat on, nodding as she gestures to the door. The lunch rush has died down by now, and most of the tables are vacant as the streets bustle with people returning to work.
“I’m gonna grab a meal to-go,” you tell her. “I’ll meet you back at the office. Thank you again for lunch!”
Fortunately for you, she doesn’t question it, leaving you to order as she heads back to the office.
Minho is nowhere to be seen, only one server present on the floor as it’s more empty now.
“Can I help you?” A voice asks, and you’re met with the warm smile of the singular server.
“I… I wanted to give my compliments to the chef,” you say, sounding a little unsure of yourself.
“I’ll be sure to do that, thank you very much,” he replies, bowing when he finishes.
“I meant my personal thanks,” you clarify, and he furrows his brows in response.
“Uh… sure, I can ask him. Do you know if it was the head chef?”
“His name’s Lee Minho,” you say with a smile. “He’s probably the head chef.”
*
Minho’s sous chef runs his kitchen like the navy, you quickly learn, as he ushers for you to leave soon after Minho exits the kitchen due to the impending dinner rush.
There’s no time to catch up with him, only being able to utter a short “thanks for the meal,” as he waits for you to speak.
But he recognizes you, his gaze staying on yours a little too long as he nervously bows.
“Y/n,” he says in response, the action saying nothing and yet so much at the same time.
And you smile back at him, relieved he still remembers.
As Seungmin calls for him a second time, you pull a pen from the pocket of his apron, scribbling your address on a napkin from one of the tables.
He nods back at you, napkin clutched in hand, as he makes his way back to the kitchen.
And for a brief moment, neither of you can make out the implications of the action. An invitation for sex? A date to catch up? The details are blurry to both of you. But you hope he shows, and Minho already knows he wouldn’t miss it for the world.
*
As you fix your hair in front of the mirror that evening, memories of Minho play in your mind like they did after the night you spent together. You know you had to leave- it wasn’t something you decided lightly, but you and him are fated for different things. And who are you to intervene where the stars align? Minho deserves someone who will be available for him, someone uncomplicated and willing to inhabit the place he loves so dearly.
You, on the other hand, have a historical bad run with men, and so pursuing Minho would be uncharacteristic. But also unfair to him. It’s clear from that night that your worst traits will always remain the most significant parts of you- impatience, judgment and naivety. And while Minho comes off as curt, he’s anything but. He’s too good for you. You’re just a byproduct of this city- everything he despises. It would be over before it even started.
Minho shows at exactly a quarter to nine, knocking twice at the door as he waits out in the hallway for you.
When you unlatch the door, he perks up from nervously staring at the carpeted floor, adjusting his collar and clearing his throat. He looks more casual than you’ve probably ever seen him before, in a striped gray and black top, layered with a black collared shirt and dark ripped jeans. He also looks particularly handsome tonight, but also different, noticeably thinner in his face where his cheekbones protrude generously, his hair a little longer now.
“Hi,” Minho says plainly, his gaze fixated on yours in an almost trance-like state.
“Hi,” you reply, unsure of where to start. “Come in, please.”
You step aside, ushering him into your apartment and shutting the door behind you both. Minho looks around, impressed with the state of your apartment in comparison with his. There are cherry wood bookshelves lining the walls, filled top to bottom with stacks of old novels and textbooks. Colorful modern paintings decorate the walls, which are admittedly much taller than his own, and cozy lighting fills every room in the space.
Minho bows a little, handing you a bottle, and you smile in amusement as you scan the contents. A single liter of Diet Coke.
“You remembered,” you say, endeared by the simple action.
“So you don’t waste your calories,” he replies with a small smile, echoing the statement you told him so many months ago.
“Please, make yourself comfortable,” you tell him. Minho takes note of the shakiness in your voice, a little relieved that you seem to be as nervous as he is. It’s certainly not a matter of picking up where you left off when you both have your walls up like this, but he prefers the silence to your absence any day.
You disappear into the kitchen, pouring both of you glasses of Diet Coke as Minho settles on the edge of the couch. He folds his hands in his lap and blinks nervously, trying so hard to remember everything he’s wanted to confess to you since returning here. But in this proximity to you, in your own home, everything suddenly seems like a bad idea. He feels dramatic, overbearing, trying to make sense of this. Maybe he shouldn’t have come.
When you return, Minho takes a deep breath, quietly thanking you for the beverage when you place it on the coffee table in front of him. And then as he feared, a silence washes over both of you.
You take a sip of your coke, waiting for him to speak, and similarly, he waits for you. You’d forgotten, briefly. That Minho is inherently a quiet guy. It’d been you who brought his walls down, challenged him to a game of pool and even instigated the argument when he told Jisung to leave the bar. As he blinks at you a few times, you realize it may be his way of asking you to do it again, to help him feel comfortable again.
“Your Italian food is on par with your chicken wings,” you say to him, finally breaking the silence. “Think you need to add shrimp scampi to your bar menu.”
Minho smiles, and the whole room seems to brighten up when he does. His eyes turn to little crescents, his grin flashing you the skewed front teeth you were so endeared by when you first met him. His presence feels like the bar did- safe, familiar.
“It’s not my best work,” he replies. “It’s just a temporary job. But I do have a sous chef here, which is a plus.”
“The one with the nice smile? I know, he almost kicked me out for asking to see you. He’s very deceiving.”
You and Minho share laughter, recalling how Seungmin yelled at you several times at the restaurant today. When your laughter dies down, he swallows nervously, unsure of how to proceed.
“Thanks for… giving your compliments today,” he says. He really wants to say ‘thank you for seeing me again’.
“I knew I recognized you,” you say back to him. “I was surprised to see you here in the city. I guess I just wanted some confirmation it was really you.”
“It’s me,” Minho says sheepishly. You smile at him, feeling a little sorry at the way his tone sounds so unsure.
“What are you doing in the city, anyway?” You ask.
Minho isn’t sure what to say. In an alternate timeline, he’d like to tell you he came for you. But he knows he’ll come off as a creep, and the last thing he wants is to lose you again.
“Just wanted a break from the suburbs,” he settles on saying.
“Do you like it?”
He toys with a frayed hem on the throw pillow beside him, shaking his head a little hesitantly.
“If I say no, you’ll think less of me.”
He regrets the words as soon as they leave his lips, not wanting you to think he came here for you to pity him. In fact, the reality is quite the opposite.
“I would never think less of you,” you assure him with a gentle smile. “You’re allowed to have your opinions.”
Minho nods, not entertaining the subject anymore.
“How’s the bar?”
“It’s okay,” Minho says, sighing a little as he thinks back to recent events. “It was robbed just the other night.”
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you say to him with widened eyes. “Is everyone… okay?”
“Everyone’s okay,” he affirms. “Just lost some money. I’m working with the police on it, so hopefully we’ll have someone arrested if we’re lucky.”
You nod at his words, feeling disheartened at the mention of the robbery. Although you’re not particularly fond of the suburbs, the bar is a sacred space for you, and knowing he and the staff were put in that situation makes you uneasy.
“How’s work?” Minho asks, and you chuckle at the question.
“Nothing special. I did get a promotion last month, but I’m only making a few dollars more than I was last time we met. Nothing to write home about.”
“We’ll congratulations anyway,” Minho says, raising his glass of Diet Coke. “Well deserved.”
“Thank you,” you say, clinking your glass against his and letting the cool carbonated beverage soothe the nerves still present in your demeanor.
“Oh, you’ll never believe it! I ran into Jisung out here,” you say to Minho with a scoff. “He tried to pursue me again, the bastard. I’m pretty sure he was even wearing a wedding ring this time. I had to tell him I found out he was married on-”
“On Google,” Minho finishes your sentence. “He told me.”
“You saw him too?”
“Yeah, just the other day. He’s just as obnoxious as he was three months ago.”
You smile at Minho, briefly reminded of the way you were able to bond with him as a result of Jisung’s antics.
“I never got to say thank you,” you say a little quietly, averting his gaze. “For that night. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you there to help me.”
He looks down, pondering your words for a moment.
“You left without saying goodbye.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to. Trust me. But I figured…” your voice trails off, trying desperately to decipher how to word your sentiment politely.
“Figured what?” He says, looking back up at you. His eyes tremble a little in anticipation for your reply.
“I figured we’re just different people.”
Minho nods, pursing his lips together as he replays your words.
“And by that you mean that you’re a successful member of the city, and I’m just a bartender.”
Your face drops at his words, suddenly panicked that he’s come here because he’s angry at you. You would never think less of him for being a bartender- hell, you wouldn’t even think less of him if he was unemployed. You’re not sure you could think less of him if you tried.
“That’s not what I mean. And you know that.”
Minho narrows his eyes a little, challenging you.
“Then what do you mean?”
“I mean,” you begin, sighing before continuing to speak. “That I’m everything you despise. I let people down. I’m not inherently a good person, the way you are. You know how I stormed in there demanding a phone charger? Fighting you at the bar because you wouldn’t let me sleep with a married man? That’s the kind of person I am. I’m impatient, and naive and I’m nothing like the girls you’re used to.”
“How do you know what I’m used to?”
“Come on, Minho,” you say, and the conversation finally begins to sound a little more natural between the two of you. “You said it yourself- I’ve never lived without the notion of wanting to migrate as soon as possible. Who’s to say that doesn’t apply to people, too?”
“You’re nothing like you say you are,” Minho interrupts, and you can feel yourself getting frustrated at his words.
“How would you know that? Because you slept with me in a bar? I’m not this dream girl you think I am, Minho. I was looking out for you. You deserve better.”
Minho says nothing for a moment, swirling Coke around in his cup and watching the bubbles fizzle away as they hit the rim of the glass. He shakes his head a little to himself, and then he begins to speak again.
“You want to know why I came out here again?”
You remain silent, already knowing what he’s going to say. But to your surprise, his answer is a little more complex.
“I came out here because I wanted to. I wanted to work as a chef again. I wanted new colleagues, I wanted a different view and I was tired of being stuck in that little bar.”
You don’t reply to his statement, waiting for him to continue.
“And do you know why finding you was something I held onto so dearly?”
“Why?” You ask, the question coming out in a shaky tone. He takes a deep breath before he answers.
“I wanted to thank you. I wanted to tell you all about it. To tell you that you were right- sometimes, simple isn’t better. Sometimes you have to go back and make amends before you can move forward again. I wouldn’t have done any of this if someone really cool didn’t walk into my bar and make it clear to me. I guess part of me just hoped you were changed by it, too.”
Your expression softens at his words, feeling awful for the way this conversation has gone so far. It’s not your intention to hurt him- in fact, you feel particularly protective of Minho.
“I came looking for you, too,” you say after a moment of silence, and Minho perks up at your words.
“You did?”
“Mhm,” you nod. “I visited your bar. Twice since that night. I asked for you both times. The guy said you weren’t there anymore. I think after the second time, I took it as a sign to stop trying.”
“Jeongin?” Minho says, furrowing his brows together in visible confusion.
“He was blonde, a little small. Freckles.”
“Felix,” Minho says, chuckling lightly. “He’s a new hire. Jeongin would’ve told you differently. I have co-ownership with him now.”
You nod, folding your hands in your lap.
“I was changed by it,” you say, finally letting your gaze meet his. “I never stopped thinking about you. But it scares me. In so many ways, you’re everything I tried to run from when I left the suburbs. I don’t think I was ever good enough for any of it- all I cared about was money, and my work and finding an apartment with a nice enough view of the city. I didn’t care about the memories I made there, or that there’s genuinely good people. I didn’t even visit my parents very often. You reminded me that there’s more to it than just that. There’s more to the past than its negative aspects. So thank you, too.”
Minho is quiet for a moment, his mind racing with thoughts of what to do- how to keep you around. But in this moment, it’s clear to him- he has to let you go. He said what he had to say. He’s done the search, all three months of it, and he found you. He validated his own emotions and made sense of yours- you were just as changed by it as he was. But maybe that’s enough- perhaps the rest is just wishful thinking.
“Looks like we felt the same about it, then,” he says with a small smile, sitting up from the sofa and making his way to peer out the large glass window in your living room.
“And by the way, you definitely succeeded with the view out here. Mine’s just a brick wall.”
You chuckle, making your way over to the window and standing next to him to take in the view, too.
“It’s nice, right? All of the east side is visible from up here.”
“See that down there?” Minho points. “Visited that dive bar the other day. It sucks if you’re wondering.”
“CJ’s? Yeah, it’s kind of a shithole. They don’t even serve Diet Coke.”
Minho chuckles lightly, a little sadness evident in his tone.
“You know, maybe if you swung by and fixed their little arcade game, they’d supply you some. Probably something to do with all the ABC’s.”
“The what?” You query, furrowing your brows together and chuckling as he speaks.
“The little gidgets inside. You know, with the pins.”
You pause to think for a moment, mentally mapping out the circuit inside.
“The EPROMs,” you say finally.
Minho feels his breath hitch in his throat as you utter the acronym. It sounds so unfamiliar, and yet so familiar to him at the same time. He suddenly remembers that night, in the spare room, hearing you say it for the first time.
“The what?” He replies gently, not removing his gaze from the window.
“The EPROMs,” you clarify, a little louder this time.
“Say it again,” Minho breathes, a small smile painted on his face now.
“EPROMs?” You question, turning to face him, visibly confused.
“Yeah, those. What’s it stand for, anyway?” Minho finally asks, turning to face you. You face him, too, endeared by the curiosity he’s displayed for that game repair since the first night you met.
“Erasable programmable read-only memory,” you explain, aware of how close he is in proximity to you now. His eyes flicker down to your lips and then back up again, his plump lips pulling into a knowing smile as you speak. He knows he’s wandering into dangerous territory now, but he can’t help it- not when it’s you who makes him feel like this.
“God, it sounds so sexy when you say it,” Minho says sheepishly.
And he knows he shouldn’t entertain it- he’s well aware that his intention is to walk out of here and get on with his life, comfortable with the knowledge that you’d sought him out, too. But he can’t help himself when you’re this close to him, talking circuit repair so intelligently and erotically.
So without another question to stutter, or a fight to be had, he closes the gap between you two, pressing his lips onto yours and kissing you one last time.
You don’t protest the action, instantly tangling your hands in his tresses and reciprocating with the same hungry, passionate kisses he delivers. Maybe it’s the long hair, or the ripped jeans, but part of you also wonders if he’s been dying to kiss you tonight as badly as you’ve been craving him. The flavor is reminiscent of the bar to you, on that pool table like the first time you kissed him. He tastes like mint, enveloping your tongue with hints of Diet Coke while he nibbles on your bottom lip between kisses.
Without any sort of end goal in mind, your hands snake down to his collared shirt, which you tug on hungrily, and then begin to push off his torso. Minho smiles into the kiss, reaffirmed that you want him just the same, and he pulls away momentarily to complete the task of pulling off his button down.
Underneath, his striped t-shirt is cut off generously at the shoulders, completely exposing his arms to you. You almost gasp at the sight of his toned arms jutting out, veins running along his forearms and flexing with each movement. Minho chuckles softly when he takes notice, amused at your reaction.
When his button down shirt is fully off, he kisses you again, hands finding their way to your waist as he pushes himself against you, desperate to feel you against him. You walk backwards, cupping his face between your hands and leading him toward your bedroom.
For a fleeting moment, you’re nervous to take it any further than this, the last person you slept with being Minho himself. You can’t remember which undergarments you wore, or what your bedroom decor looks like to anyone except yourself. But Minho’s kisses shut you up, his lips moving against yours with desire and passion, and you don’t want to do anything except this, right here.
When you’ve made it to the bed, you pull away, crossing your arms over your torso and pulling your sweater off over your head. You’re in a lacy black bra, you realize, because of course you thought to dress for him. Minho blinks a few times, crossing his own arms over his torso and finally pulling his shirt over his head.
It’s then that you realize you’ve never seen Minho without his shirt before- he wore that white button down in the bar, only allowing you to see a generous amount of his collarbones. But standing in front of you like this, he’s breathtaking, his toned torso and his sharp collar bones complementing his sculpted thighs and arms so perfectly.
When he takes notice of you staring at him, one hand flies down to his mid-torso, where he spreads a palm out over the skin, seemingly in an attempt to cover something. You take one step forward, gently placing a hand over his and moving it so that his torso is exposed again. And across his tanned skin, a pale pink scar catches your eye, not very noticeable from your previous distance, but definitely perceptible when you observe his body long enough.
“Minho,” you coo, running your hand along the scar and tracing it with your fingertips. “You’re beautiful,” you say to him after a moment, smiling up at him sincerely.
Minho’s heart almost stops in its place, overwhelmed with his emotions for you, to be here with you, the desire to make love to you eating away at his mind like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.
And if it is, he’d die a happy man.
His lips crash against yours again, hands snaking down to your jeans, where he unbuttons them, your hands meeting his to help pull them down. While you take over, he unbuckles his belt, snaking the leather out from around his waist and undoing his buttons. It’s then that he pushes you gently against the bed, hoisting your legs up so that you’re at a comfortable angle, finally propping himself above you and working kisses down your neck. He nibbles your flesh between his teeth the way he did before, beginning to work purple bruises around your throat. And you let him, without protest, because you’re desperate for a reminder that he’s here, that he’s yours. Minho smiles against your neck when he feels you moan softly at the sensation, satisfied with the way you melt at his touch.
“Minho,” you call, and he brings his lips to press a chaste kiss to yours again.
“What is it, baby?” He coos gently, pressing a series of kisses to your lips before you speak again.
“I never should have left,” you reply, toying with a strand of his hair around your fingers in a pleading manner. Your chest is heavy with guilt, tears almost pricking at your eyes as he looms over you like this.
He chuckles softly, kissing you for a moment before grazing his lips over yours again, speaking just above a whisper.
“I’m here,” he says. “I’m right where you left me.”
And it’s your turn to kiss him, crashing your lips against his again as tears fall from the corners of your eyes. Minho takes notice when the salty taste of them dance along his tongue, kissing them back up your face and holding you a little closer to him. His hands wrap around the small of your back to find the clasp of your bra, skillfully undoing it with one hand and pulling away from you to discard it on the floor. It’s Minho’s turn to stare, running one hand down your clavicles until he’s grazing your nipples with his fingers.
You feel your breath hitch in your throat with anticipation, before he finally dips his middle finger down over one of your hardened nipples, earning a stifled gasp from you. He works little circles over your nipple with one finger, the gentle stimulation making you gasp into his mouth as he kisses you again.
And then he moves back to your neck, kissing over the bruises he sucked into your flesh, trailing lower and lower until he’s just above your breasts. You look down at him with bated breath, almost clenching at the way his lips exhale little breaths against your nipples, making them even harder. With his eyes on yours, he finally lowers himself, latching both lips around your breast and sucking.
Your back arches up into him instinctively, the feeling of his teeth grazing your skin sending divine shivers up your spine. In a sudden motion, his tongue swirls around your bud, the cold sensation causing you to moan fervently. He smiles with your flesh between his teeth, while your hands tangle themselves in his hair and massage him encouragingly.
It feels so primal, so natural to have his mouth all over you, your legs pressing together to calm the ache between your legs. He takes his time on one breast, only coming up to press a kiss in the valley of your breasts and then moving to give attention to the other one. You could stay here for hours, like this, if it wasn’t for the pulsing reminder in your groin that you want to feel him inside of you.
“Please,” you say gently, pressing your legs together and squeezing in efforts to relieve yourself.
Minho chuckles softly, letting go from your nipple with a gentle sucking sound, a string of spit hanging from his lips as he looks up at you with hooded eyes.
“I want to feel you inside me again,” you admit shyly, tenderly running your nails along the back of his neck. Minho’s lips meet yours again, and his hands quickly find their way to the hem of your underwear, sliding them down and pulling away to discard them on the floor.
He’s promptly reminded of how needy and vocal you are, smiling down at you as you pull his face back to yours and swirl your tongue around his. But truth be told, he’s just as needy as you are, equally reminded of how much he’s touched himself to the thought of this and secretly prayed he’d be able to make love to you again. And now here, his lips on yours, it’s finally happening, his rock-hard erection proof that it’s always been you.
As you arch up into him, one leg wrapping around his to push him even closer against you, your hand snakes down to his erection, palming him through his boxers. Minho groans at the contact, his lips parting a little as he winces in pleasure.
“You’re so hard,” you say with a smile, pleased at his evidently equal desperation for you.
“All for you,” Minho replies, running one hand down your stomach to rub little circles on your clit, causing you to moan in pleasure.
“Ah- fuck,” you breathe out, contorting against him, desperate for him to fill you up. “Please, Minho, want to feel you inside me,” you pant against him, pleading for the second time now.
He remains like that for a moment, working little circles onto your clit as he observes the way your eyebrows arch up in pleasure.
“Want me to fill you up?” He asks, cocking his head with yours as you grasp his forearm.
“Yes, please,” you reply, trying your best to stave off your orgasm until he’s inside of you.
And without teasing you any further, Minho pulls away from you to slide off his boxers, his cock springing up against his abdomen in anticipation for you. You prop yourself up on your elbows, in awe at the sight as he tosses his boxers aside and leans down to kiss you again.
“Lay down,” Minho orders sweetly, and you do as you’re told, exhaling once to calm your steadily beating pulse.
“Is this still okay?” Minho asks, caressing your shoulder with concern as you wait for his next move.
“Yes,” you say, giving a half smile to him when he rubs his thumb along your cheek lovingly. He smiles back at you, giving one small peck to your lips before hoisting himself up and wrapping one hand around his cock.
You watch as Minho wraps his slender fingers around the base of his cock, pumping a few times before leaning down to kiss you tenderly. The sensation causes him to breathe a few gasps into your mouth, Minho also trying his best to stave his release until he’s inside of you.
“Gonna put it in now, okay?” He asks, breaking away to part your thighs. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
But you don’t- not when you’re this wet for him, this desperate to finally feel him fill you up again, like you’ve fantasized for so long.
A strand of his hair falls into his face as he finally guides his cock inside of you, rubbing your clit as he thrusts in fully and bottoms out. You gasp at his size, almost having forgotten just how thick he is, the stretch making your head spin with pleasure. When he gauges your reaction, he begins to move with you slowly, giving gentle thrusts while you wrap your arms around his back.
The bed creaks as he moves in and out of your sopping pussy, emitting lewd sloshing sounds as he leans down to kiss you, your tongues and mouths doing much of the same. You can hardly kiss him back, your lips already dribbling strings of drool in fucked-out satisfaction from him filling you up like this.
“Fuck… baby… you’re so tight,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure.
“Feels so good,” you breathe back, gripping his shoulder a little bit when he picks up his pace. “No one fucks me the way you do,” you say to him, and his cock twitches inside of you at the admission.
“Fuck,” Minho says again. “I dreamt of you for so long,”
“Me too,” you say, reaching up to move a stray piece of hair out from in front of his eyes between your heavy breathing. “I wish I came looking for you again. God, I wasted so much time.”
Minho kisses you, burying his lips in the crook of your neck to caress the bruises he’s already left.
“I never stopped searching for you,” he breathes out against your skin. “It’s you, it’s always been you.”
His words make your heart flutter as he continues to thrust in and out of you, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix with every thrust now. Your moans get louder as he picks up the pace, digging his nails into your waist as he holds you in place. Between kisses, he caresses your thigh with his hand, positioning it up and bending your leg at the knee beside him. You moan instantly at the new angle, his length caressing every inch of your pussy, his girth stretching you out with every thrust inside of you and tickling your pulsing clit as he moves against your hips.
“Good girl,” Minho says, smiling against you as he kisses you. “Take me so well.”
Your nails dig into his back as he thrusts a little faster now, the rhythmic motion sending shivers up your spine.
“I’m close,” you breathe out, and judging by the way Minho’s cock twitches inside of you, he is too.
“Will you do that thing again?” You ask in a shaky voice between moans, and Minho lets out a breathy chuckle.
“What thing, baby?”
But he knows very well what you’re referring to, having replayed it in his head every time he got off without you. You don’t respond to him, instead intertwining his hand in yours and bringing it down to your abdomen, where you sprawl his palm across your navel and give it a little push. Minho groans at the feeling of your warm abdomen under his palm, remembering the way you reacted last time. And he’s eager to please you, to do it exactly how you liked it before.
Without teasing you any further, Minho presses down on your stomach, observing the way you moan when he does, and then thrusts a little faster. He can feel his length sliding in and out of you under his touch, locking his gaze on the bulge in your abdomen that appears with every thrust.
“Min, I’m so close,” you say, gasping desperately and digging your nails into his back.
He presses down a little harder, burying his face in the crook of your neck and moving even faster, moaning every time he can feel himself move against your abdomen.
And as he brings his lips up to meet yours, you finally let go around him, making a mess of your sheets as you cum around his cock, your clit pulsing in syncopation with your entrance as he fucks you through your orgasm. Minho finishes just seconds after, emptying his milky white release inside of you, both your juices spilling into each other and coating the bed in your arousal. He doesn’t pull out immediately, slowing his thrusts for a few minutes as he kisses you much gentler this time, your lips still glistening with the exchange of saliva.
When he feels you shiver against him, Minho finally slides out, turning over to lay on his back and catch his breath. The two of you remain like that for a few minutes, catching your breath and wiping beads of sweat off your forehead as you do. After a moment of silence, he turns to you again, a worried expression on his face.
“I promise I didn’t come here to have sex with you,” Minho says. “I wasn’t lying about wanting to tell you all about it. I guess I just happened to-”
“Min, I know,” you say with a small smile. “I didn’t think that’s why you came here.”
He lets out a silent chuckle, and you mirror the action, smiling back at him before laughing silently. The two of you remain sore and wearied, your languid bodies a comfortable distance away from each other on the soiled duvet.
Still, Minho extends a hand out from beside you, palm facing up and shifting his gaze onto yours out of his peripheral vision.
Your hand meets his, intertwining your fingers together, the delicate embrace a reminder that he’s here, right where you left him.
*
“Can’t you just stay another week?” you say to Minho, leaning down to press another kiss to his already swollen lips.
You lie on top of him as he lays back on your couch, his hands tucking strands of hair behind your ear as he smiles up at you.
“It’s just for a little bit, I promise. I just have some unfinished business out there.”
“I don’t want to lose you again,” you say in a whisper, tracing the bridge of his nose with your fingertip.
“You won’t lose me,” Minho replies, his tone turning serious at your words. “You’ll never lose me.”
“What am I going to do without you?” You ask him, feeling yourself grow increasingly more panicked at the thought of being away from him again. You’ve spent the better part of three months searching for each other, desperate for some closure to this fleeting thing- and now he’s leaving, and you can’t help but feel like you’re doing something wrong by letting him leave like this.
“You’re going to be the woman you always have been,” Minho says with a smile, stroking your hair gently. “You’re going to work your job, and fix things and be absolutely remarkable wherever you go. And I’m going to finalize a few things out there and then meet you right back here in the city. And we’ll lie on this couch, and we’ll pick up right where we left off.”
You smile at him through pricking tears, feeling them begin to fall as he reaches a thumb up to wipe them off your cheek.
“Hey,” Minho says to you reassuringly. “You know- I was thinking a lot about the bar.”
You nod at him, trying to hold back the rest of your tears as he speaks.
“We have contract negotiations coming up next month. And I was thinking of… maybe…handing it off to Jeongin.”
You sit up a little, eyes widening at his words.
“Complete ownership? But you love that bar, Min.”
He shrugs a little, blinking a few times as he pauses.
“I want to cook. And I think being out here made me realize I need a change of pace again.”
“You mean like… moving out here? To the city?”
He lets out a breathy chuckle, throwing his head back a little before meeting your gaze again.
“Maybe. Just something I’ve been thinking about.”
You chuckle too now, cupping his face in your hands as you sit up to look at him.
“You know,” you begin, thinking for a second before continuing to speak. “This really cool bartender told me once that sometimes you have to go back and make amends before you can move forward again.”
His lips flicker down to your smile and back up to your eyes as you speak, a visible sparkle in your pupils as you look down at him. “Whatever you decide to do back there, I’m here with you when you go forward again. As a bartender, or a chef, or whatever you decide. I’ll be right where you left me.”
And he doesn’t have to ask you twice, knowing in his heart, you’re already here with him- every step of the way.
*
Minho leaves bright and early that morning, grasping your hand firmly in his as you make your way down the concrete steps of your apartment building to where his car is parked.
He looks more angelic than you’ve ever seen him, his smile illuminating the space around you as he holds you in his gentle embrace on the sidewalk. The two of you say nothing, only speaking through the tender touches of your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, face tucked in the crook of his neck as he holds you. He presses kisses to the top of your head, reminding you through hushed whispers that he’ll be back as soon as possible. And you know he will, feeling completely enveloped in his loving trust as he holds you, as he promises not to lose you again.
When he pulls away to look into your eyes, tears prick at the corners of your eyes for the third time this morning, and Minho chuckles lightly, reaching up to wipe them away with his thumb.
Before he can say anything, he feels it, finally.
The gentle caress of droplets on his face- not your tears, not his, but the sky above, showering you with little raindrops for the first time in three months and some days.
At first, Minho thinks he might be hallucinating it, when he looks up to squint his eyes back at the cloudy sky. You do the same, feeling the familiar kiss of raindrops on your skin. And then, as if the sky’s taking notice, it begins to pour, warm rain showering you both in the hazy atmosphere of the city sidewalk.
Minho laughs up at the sky, shaking his now damp hair as he looks down at you again. All this time he’s waited for the rain, thinking maybe he’d imagined it that night in the bar- the same night he ran into you. But as the raindrops graze his skin and glisten under the light of the city, he realizes it was very much real, as are you, standing right here in his arms. And like everything falls into place, so does the rain over the city, washing away the doubts he held onto for so long.
“It’s finally raining!” Minho exclaims, holding you closer to him as he tilts his face up to the sky again.
You watch him in admiration, laughing at the way he embraces the sudden downpour, also remembering the first night you met him because of the storm like this.
The city-dwellers around you begin to seek shelter under the cement roofs of the high rises, but you remain there on the sidewalk, warm in each other's embraces, content with the sudden turn of the weather. When he looks back down at you, his hair is now completely soaked, stringy pieces falling into his face as he continues to laugh.
“Minho,” you say through gentle laughter of your own. The rain comes down violently now, drenching the two of you as he holds you closer to him.
“Where have you been all my life?”
And he smiles down at you, the familiar beam of his giggle instilling the same safety and comfort as the first night you met in his bar.
“Right here,” Minho replies, leaning in to kiss you again.
“I’ve always been here.”
This time, you make no effort to escape the rain, comfortable in the way it looms over the city, much like how Minho looms over you- fortuitous, and with promises of new beginnings.
#skz smut#Lee know#Lee know smut#Lee know fic#stray kids hard hours#skz#stray kids#skz scenarios#stray kids x you#Lee minho#lee know scenarios#Lee know x reader#fanfic#smut#stray kids hard thoughts#stray kids x reader#stray kids x y/n#Spotify
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hawks, miruko, fatgum, midnight and eraserhead x vigilante reader
REPOST the original one got flagged as s3xu4l content even tho it's just fluff :(
vigilante reader is tame basically acting as a pro hero just without the license, mainly focusing on saving people, and therefore none of the heros reallu care. no warnings just pure fluff
hawks/keigo takami:
-keigo would be a vigilante if he wasn't taken in by the commission. 100% he would not have stopped saving lives even if he got in trouble for it. he might even fuck around and manage to get you an actual hero license if you want one, even a fake one to get out of trouble if you need it
-basically. even as the number two hero he's no snitch and in fact really respects what you do. you guys probably met trying to save the same civilian or something and hit it off immediately
-he lets you follow him on patrols, absolutely no fucks. almost everyone thinks you're just one of his sidekicks and you basically act as one without the hero license. would just use his feathers to carry you away from any particularly hard ass heros (cough endeavor cough) if he needs to
-doesn't have a lot of friends but the ones he does have know all about you (including everything keigo gushes to them about you ugh) and they also don't care, they trust him as a person and a hero so by default they trust you
-probably also insists on training you but most of your spars end up in making out because he has no self control when it comes to you but you're not complaining
-end of day routine with keigo would def start with you two dancing in keigos living room, he just sweeps you up and starts dancing out of no where, doesn't even need music, the sound of you laughing at his antics is music enough for him, you've come to expect it every day when he comes home and it's one of the things you miss most when he's gone on a longer mission
-your rough days always end with you flying, even if you can fly using your own quirk, there's something about being held to the chest of the man you love while he flys through the night sky, placing unwavering trust in him to not let you fall while you admire the stars always makes your heart full, and for keigos rough days, you always preen his feathers, he's not used to anyone touching them besides his fans grabbing at him, so nothing relaxes him more than the feeling of your fingers in his feathers, straightening and adjusting them for him as you go
miruko/rumi usagiyama:
-is so aggressively supportive of the vigilante thing she'd see you out beating the shit out of a villain and be like BEAT THEIR ASS BABE GET EM
-insists on you training with her. if you want to be a vigilante you gotta be in shape enough to go toe to toe with the number 5 pro hero
-absolutely kicks your ass in training but it's okay bc she gives you kisses every time you win a match <3
-if you're not immediately recognizable as a vigilante she Will take you to the boring hero shit she has to go with. no one's willing to get close enough to you besides hawks, because if you're with her she'll glare down anyone who tries to approach her and hawks is the only one brave enough to get closer (she also trusts hawks the most out of all of them and knows hes no snitch)
-has a sixth sense for when you're in trouble, so if you're ever in over your head in the same city as her ur opponent better start praying
-on especially hard days for you, rumi gives a mean back massage that leaves you putty in her hands, on rumis hard days you always do her hair. she finds it so relaxing and loves the styles you do on her and will proudly wear whatever you did as long as she can
fatgum/taishiro toyomitsu:
-taishiro is just That Guy yk u guys probably met because he picked you up by your scruff during a fight you were losing and he jumped in all heroic like *swoons*
-him being That Guy /pos and all his only reaction after dealing with the villain is to put you down and be like woah. hello person i have never seen in my life before this very second right now. you should hurry along i don't want any civilians caught in the cross hairs when the police arrive. anyway random stranger i've never seen ever you should totally come by my hero agency and train in case you know. you get caught close to another villain attack
-guys got a heart proportional to the rest of him how could you not do anything for him he's sunshine personified. if he said jump you'd ask how high he's just got that affect
-he's probably the most chill pro hero aside from like. aizawa. you know how like the bigger the dog the more chill they get (usually). yeah same affect with him he minds his business stays in his lane does heroic deeds on the reg yk
- his favorite thing to do with you is spend time with you laying on top of him <33 he usually takes up all the space on wherever he's lying but no complaints can be heard when you get to cuddle on top of him all night
-end of day routine with taishiro would pretty much be him coming home from work, flopping on the couch, and dragging you to lay on top of him to doze until the food he ordered arrives (even if you wanted to there's no way you could cook for tai after work, you'd have a hard enough time cooking for Any pro hero let alone one who's quirk is dependent on food)
-your rough days usually entail you crawling inside his shirts to be closer to him (in my mind his clothes are probably usually baggy because they need to be able to withstand his full size and after a day at work he'd probably be at least somewhat smaller) and him allowing you to curl up on him like a cat (he probably also pets ur hair like a cat but we don't need to mention that), his rough days probably entail something like baking treats together!! he seems like the kind of guy who really really enjoys quality time with a s/o and combining that with food? his bad day melts away immediately
midnight/nemuri kayama:
-honestly you're probably not even the first vigilante she's dated, if there's one thing nemuri is gonna do it's whatever the fuck she wants lmao
-she's def the type of person to be like rules are meant to be broken
-nemuri LOVES going out with you, you better pray you don't have a recognizable face because there's no way you're getting out of going out to dinner and her dragging you shopping and her showing you off any chance she gets(not that you'd want to get out of that stuff i mean. it's nemuri)
-nemuri prefers working night shifts even when not working at ua so she can force you to take a break when she takes hers and she always packs you food <3
-she also prefers night shifts so you both can protect each other, shadowing one another in case one of you gets over your heads, the other one never being too far
-she probably has a lot of cats and by default they're your cats so usually while nemuris gone at ua you're playing with her cats. (nemuri probably has hundreds of pictures of you with a cat on top of you after you fell asleep)
-her favorite time of day is when you're both home and sweaty from fighting, your end of day routine always starts with taking a bath together, washing grime off the other, using the tenderness to reset your minds after a long day
-she loves to pamper you, do your nails, face masks, anything you want ,and uses her quirk slightly on you after a particularly rough day, and for her rough days you always make sure she gets a foot massage and glass of wine with a book <3
eraserhead/shouta aizawa:
-same shit different day yeah? he probably mostly has vigilante friends if we're honest (aside from hizashi and nemuri of course)
-is definitely used to dealing with vigilantes both a professional and unprofessional sense, nothing you can do will shock him, and you can always count on him to save your ass when things go south, it's like he has a second quirk with the way he's able to sense when you're either about to do something stupid or about to die. usually both.
-you guys patrol at night together, you both prefer working when you know the other is somewhere nearby in case things go south, and more often than not you take cases on together (although Technically it's just him on the paperwork)
-omg what if you guys meet because he saw you feeding a cat and snuck up on you only for you to. notice him? holy shit?? you could sense his presence?? he was flabbergasted. that like never fucking happens
-end of day routine is you bullying him into a shower with you and him making you wash his hair as payment. literally a fucking cat. we both know he wouldn't shower after patrol alone he'd just go to sleep.
-your rough days always end up with you in a caterpillar looking ass sleeping bag with shouta but you'd have it no other way. his rough days are full of cat cafes. they just relax him like nothing else
#bnha x y/n#bnha x you#bnha x reader#hawks x y/n#hawks x reader#hawks x you#keigo takami x y/n#keigo x y/n#takami keigo x reader#keigo x reader#keigo x you#keigo takami x reader#keigo takami x you#miruko x reader#miruko x you#mirko x reader#mirko x you#mirko x y/n#rumi usagiyama x reader#fatgum x you#fatgum x y/n#fatgum x reader#taishiro x reader#toyomitsu taishirou x reader#aizawa x y/n#aizawa x you#aizawa x reader#midnight x reader#nemuri kayama x reader#shouta aizawa x reader
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JJK Mafia AU
MafiaBoss!Nanami Kento Headcanons
Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)
Pairing: Nanami Kento x gn!reader
Cw: smut, mentions of violence and illegal activities
Word Count: ~700
A/n: I am so weak. One little thought about Mafia!Boss Nanami and my little brain went boom. I hope this brainrot sticks because I'd love to write a multichapter fic with this premise!
mafiaboss!nanami rules from his position at the top of his criminal syndicate with an iron fist. Nanami is ruthless when it comes to ensuring that each gang member respect the chain of command and obey his rules. If you mess up, he doesn't give you second chances.
mafiaboss!nanami who oozes wealth. The luxury cars he drives, the expensive suits he wears--that watch that costs more than what you make in a year circling his thick wrist. All of these things not only speak to Nanami's expensive tastes, but also to the raw power and unadulterated authority he holds at his fingertips.
mafiaboss!nanami who has earned his wealth and status through his cunning and discipline. He has made his way to the top of the food chain through his own merit alone. Nanami has a deep respect for others who do the same.
mafiaboss!nanami who has the entire city eating out of the palm of his hand. Neither the politicians nor police force make a move without his express approval.
mafiaboss!nanami is dangerous when he is crossed. Nanami finds no pleasure in killing, but he will carry out the proper sentence towards those who have betrayed him. Especially towards any poor idiot who has taken something that belongs to him.
mafiaboss!nanami who could have his pick of any woman or man he so desires. Models, celebrities, or whatever multi-million heir/heiress that catches his eye. However, Nanami had grown tired of toying with these spoiled and out of touch airheads long ago. Now, Nanami much prefers to spend his time entertaining himself with someone who has a head on their shoulders. Someone like you.
mafiaboss!nanami who wants you the moment he first lays eyes on you. But he is not interested in using force, or his power and influence to win your heart. Instead, Nanami prefers to watch you from afar, relishing in your fire as you try to make your way on your own. And yet, whenever you eventually--inevitably--storm your way into his office with a frustrated scowl and sheepishly ask for his help, the euphoria that blooms in Nanami's chest is as powerful as the drugs he smuggles.
mafiaboss!nanami who simultaneously teases you and lays claim to you through his purposeful and scorching touches. His large hand on the small of your back as he guides you to his car, his fingers tracing the back of your neck as he fastens the necklace he had gifted you, the way his lips barely brush against yours as he leans down to sternly scold you for putting yourself in danger...
mafiaboss!nanami who kisses you with a knee-weakening and breathless passion. He ravishes your perfect mouth so well and so thoroughly, that you know deep down in your bones that you'll never be satisfied with kissing anyone else.
mafiaboss!nanami who undresses you with awe and hungry reverence. Nanami can't keep his mouth off of you. The deep, rumbling groans that escape him as he diligently tastes every delectable inch of your body makes your heart hammer in your chest. Nanami leaves no place unworshipped.
mafiaboss!nanami who staves off the full force of his desire for you for as long as he can. But those sweet little cries you make, coupled with your lewd kisses and the feeling of your fingers digging into the muscles of his back are his downfall. Partially clothed, Nanami pins you to his desk and fucks you into it raw.
mafiaboss!nanami who isn't satisfied with just one round. After he's fucked you on the desk he moves you towards the window, propping your hips up before pressing your palms against the glass. He leans down behind you and whispers seductively into your ear that he wants you to watch your reflection in the glass. Nanami wants you to witness how beautiful your expression becomes when he makes you mewl and whimper and cream on his cock.
mafiaboss!nanami who offers to provide for you and protect you when morning comes--and smiles when you decline. Nanami's gaze is intense, laced with both admiration and possessiveness as he watches you slip back on that sexy little number you wore last night.
He can't wait to taste you again.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#nanami kento#nanami smut#nanami kento smut#nanami x reader#nanami x you#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento x you#jjk au#jellywrites
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Quinn Bailey Must Die, p2
P1 | P2 | P3
summary: Quinn Bailey continues her quest to conquer the Carpenter sisters. Well, one of them, at least. all hers universe.
warnings: (+18), Tara is (was) Ghostface, language. Implied sexual content.
pairing: tara carpenter x reader, sam carpenter x quinn bailey
word count: 6.1k
a/n: set in the all hers universe, sequel to the first. wanted to try something a lil different - this is mostly from Sam's POV. There will be at least one other part after this one. Enjoy and let me know your thoughts!
Sam’s bed is shaking when she wakes.
She has a fan plugged into the wall. Military grade earplugs. A white noise machine.
And yet, every morning, she wakes to the sound of a squeaking mattress and you moaning like you’re on a casting couch for a bad 60s porno.
Aggravated, she sits up. Launches a pillow at the wall in the hope it will quell your happy groans.
It doesn’t.
“Tara, YN!” She yells, more than fed up, “Shut up! Shut the fuck up.”
You hear Tara groan through the walls. A quiet shush. The bed stops shaking. Sam slumps back into her pillows, content.
Tara has never cared, but at least you can be shamed into silence.
She closes her eyes, snuggles back into her pillows for a couple more hours of precious sleep.
A few minutes go by, and just as Sam is on the cusp of unconsciousness, she hears you let out another, loud moan.
“Oh, Tara-”
Sam sits up.
Fuck this, she thinks as she grouchily shimmies back into an old hoodie, I’ll sleep outside.
-
When Sam returns to the kitchen - after seventy minutes of tossing and turning with a pillow and a blanket in the apartment hallway - Tara has the audacity to look pleased with herself.
She’s wearing one of your old t-shirts, absent-mindedly stroking your hair as she sips on a cup of coffee. As if her bedroom activities hadn’t driven Sam out of hers.
Sam is fuming. Her cheeks are red as she slams her bedding onto the couch.
You turn at the same time Tara does.
“What’s up, Sam?” Asks Tara, like she doesn’t know the answer, “You look like you’ve just been dragged through a bush backwards.”
“You know what’s up,” Sam growls. She snatches a mug from the kitchen counter and pours herself a healthy helping of coffee, “How many times do I have to tell you-“
“Relax, Sam,” Tara says with a roll of her eyes, “We didn’t realize you were awake. We’re sorry-“
“I wasn’t awake until you woke me,” Sam says, jabbing a finger towards her nonplussed sister, “This is ridiculous. It’s the third time this week. If you two can’t respect my boundaries-”
Your face is a little hot. You shoot an apologetic look towards Sam, “We’re sorry, Sam,” You say, “We get… carried away sometimes.”
But Tara looks annoyed.
“This is our home,” Says Tara, “If we want to fuck, we will. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to-”
Sam slams her hand to the counter, making you jump.
“You asked me to come here,” She growls. She looks a little wild; red cheek, hair messy and ruffled, dark, tired eyes, “You asked me to pitch in. If you want me to go, I’m taking my share of the rent with me.”
Tara crosses her arms, unhappily.
“I’m doing the two of you a favor by being here. You think I can afford to pay New York City rent and California rent? The least you can do is not have loud sex at six AM-” Continues Sam, voice strained.
“You’re right, we’re sorry, Sam,” You interject, eyebrows pinched, “Right, babe? We’ll be quieter.”
Tara’s quiet for a moment, but Sam knows her sister. She knows the things Tara’s thinking in her head, and none of them are favorable.
“I have a life back in California,” Sam warns, “If you want me to go, I’ll go. But I’m taking my money with me.”
Tara’s brows knit.
“We don’t want that,” You say, quickly, “We’re very grateful you decided to help us out. Right, Tara?”
“Very grateful,” Tara says, voice tight, “Sorry, Sam.”
She pauses a moment.
“Babe, you’ve got the ad up, right?”
Sam ignores the spark of annoyance that floods through her and grabs her lunch.
She sighs right before she heads out. Decides she doesn't want to start her day swimming in negativity.
“Bye, YN. Love you, Tara.”
“Bye Sam,” You say, with a small smile, “Have a good day.”
Sam waits a moment.
“Bye, Tara.” She says, once more.
Tara rolls her eyes, “Bye Sam. What, you need me to walk you out or something?”
Sam just sighs and leaves.
-
Sam has a new job at NYU.
A job she loves.
Her life so far? Deadbeat father, emotionally absent mother. A murderous psychopath as a biological father. A murderous psychopath as an ex-boyfriend.
It hasn’t panned out the way she was hoping.
Nowadays, there’s only two bright sparks in her life.
Her baby sister, and her job.
What more could a girl need?
She’s working in the history department, a subject she’s always been good at. Tutoring students who apparently don’t share her prowess for the past.
Her first assignment is a nineteen year old boy with straight D grades. Her second is a girl who point blank asks if “the Nazis won the Korean War?”
Her third strolls into the library now.
Doesn’t bother to introduce herself. She walks in like she owns the place. Settles herself next to Sam with a coy look in her eye and flutter of her eyelashes.
“Hi,” Says the girl, with a coy smile. A smile that is far too friendly for discussing the Yom Kippur war.
Sam blinks.
“Hi,” She says, a little taken aback. She gets ahold of herself, “I’m Sam. I’ll be your tutor for the next semester.”
This girl has long, flowing strawberry-blonde hair. Piercing blue eyes. She’s wearing a shirt that rides up over her belly button and a pair of pants that are so tight they look as if they were painted on.
The girl watches for a moment. Surveys Sam - like a hungry wolf might appraise a rabbit.
And then she grins.
“We actually know each other,” Says the girl, “At least - we know of each other.”
Sam tilts her head.
“Oh?”
“I know your sister,” Says the girl, and her smile turns sheepish, “I used to live with her. Before she kicked me out.”
Sam blinks.
“You’re Quinn Bailey,” Sam realizes with a start.
Quinn’s cheeks pinch in a tight smile.
“Guilty,” She says with a nervous laugh, “Sorry. This is awkward. I didn’t know the school was going to pair me with you. I mean - I didn’t even know you worked here.”
Sam leans back a little, suddenly on guard.
“It’s fine,” She says, “I’ll ask you to be assigned to another tutor.”
Quinn squints.
“Actually, you can’t,” Says Quinn, sounding apologetic, “There’s only two history tutors - I checked. The other guy’s out for the next two weeks.” She leans in close, eyebrows in her hairline, “Mono.”
She pauses.
“Sorry, this must be awkward for you. But I really do need help. My first paper is due next Thursday.”
Sam sighs.
“Look, Quinn,” She says, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea after you-“
“Threw myself at your sister?” Quinn finishes. Her face is tight - she looks a little embarrassed, “I get it. I do. But you’re the only one who can help me.”
Sam tilts her head.
Quinn reaches over, takes Sam’s hand.
“Please.”
Clearly, it’s been too long since Sam felt the warmth of human touch. Because Quinn’s hand on hers ignites a spark that sends shockwaves through her body.
You need a boyfriend, she thinks momentarily, badly.
Sam retracts her hand, squinting slightly.
And remembers the horror stories Tara had bellowed down the phone line.
“Those girls are very special to me,” She says, “What you tried to do? It’s despicable.”
Quinn looks dismayed as Sam stands.
“Sorry,” Sam says as she straps her back over her shoulder, “You’ll have to find someone else.”
-
Tara’s in a mood when Sam gets home that night.
She orders takeout, instead of eating Sam’s meticulously planned, healthy vegan curry. She ignores Sam’s attempts at conversation, and turns the TV a little louder when Sam tries to offer her dessert.
Sam gives up, not long after.
She eats dinner by herself, trying not to let her mind drift to Quinn.
“Please,” She’d murmured, “I really need your help.”
Weird, she thinks. Quinn’s touch had imprinted on her mind all night. For such a devilish, evil, homewrecker - she’d seemed kind of sweet. Hopeless, almost.
Like a lost little child, adorned in red lipstick and Michael Kors.
But then she remembers her sister.
You arrive home, not long after Sam’s finishing her plate, batting Quinn’s easy smile out of her brain.
You press a kiss to Tara’s forehead, offer Sam a small smile.
And then you throw your bag down to the floor and disappear into your bedroom.
“Good day, Sam?” You ask when you emerge, towel over your shoulders.
Sam hums.
“Weird day,” She admits. She shakes her head as she catches your questioning stare, “Nevermind.”
You watch her a moment, and then reach down to squeeze Tara’s shoulders.
“I’m taking a shower. Pick a movie for us?” You say with a quick kiss to her cheek.
“Sure, babe,” Tara says.
And then she sits up long enough to shoot a glare over at Sam.
“Just be careful not to shower too loudly,” Tara says, “We wouldn’t want to interrupt Sam’s precious relaxation time. Who knows? She might threaten to not pay the water bill next time.”
Irritation flashes through Sam, hot and fast.
She’d been up at six AM again. Her sister is the culprit. And somehow she’s the bad guy?
“Stop being a brat, Tara,” Sam says, voice tight, “You’ll be twenty next year, you better start acting like it.”
“And is that when I’ll be as demanding and bitchy and sexless as you?” Tara deadpans.
Sam lets her cutlery clatter over her plate. Rage simmers in the pit of her stomach that begs to be unleashed. Primarily on her ungrateful shit-head of a sister.
I move across the country to bail you out, she wants to scream, and you can’t even be hospitable?
But you get there first.
“Stop it.” You say, pulling the remote from her hand, and tugging her up, “You are being a brat. Apologize to Sam and go to bed.”
Tara glares up at you.
“But babe-“
“Now,” You warn, “Or it’ll be your turn to sleep in the hall.”
Tara’s face clouds over.
It’s a familiar look to Sam.
It’s the one she used to give to their Father. Right after she’d choked Sam, or punched her, or pulled her hair.
Her fake apology face.
“Sorry Sam,” She mumbles, as she stands, looking anything but, “Try earplugs next time, maybe.”
“Bed.” You say, “Now.”
Tara storms off to bed, shooting a withering glare over to Sam as she leaves.
Sam’s lips twitch.
She’s used to this - Tara taking her anger out on her. She’s done their whole lives.
It doesn’t mean it hurts any less.
You sigh, throwing your towel over one of the dining chairs.
“Sorry,” You say, “You know what she’s like sometimes.”
“That therapy is really working wonders, huh?” Asks Sam, a little sarcastic. Her hands are shaking, a little.
You bite your lip, sinking into the seat opposite her.
“Good days and bad days,” You say, “Dr Colmann says miracles aren’t going to happen overnight.”
“That girl needs a miracle.” Sam says, a little frosty. Then, she softens, “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m not trying to put you in the middle.”
“It’s fine, Sam,” You say, “I know she can be a handful. We’re talking about all the stuff she used to do as a kid in therapy.”
Sam snorts.
“You mean like when she cut off all the heads of my teddy bears because I wouldn’t let her blow out the candles on my birthday cake?”
You blink, a little taken aback.
“No,” You say, slowly, “She kept that one quiet.”
“You better not be talking about me.” Tara’s voice sounds down the hall, hot and angry.
You look from Sam long enough to shoot a glare down the hall, “And you better be in bed. I mean it, Tara. I’ll be there in five.”
Tara huffs, but retreats, nonetheless.
You look back over to Sam, who has a contemplative look on her face.
“I met Quinn Bailey today,” She says.
You stare.
“Why?” Is what you ask, and then you frown, “She’s not trying to worm her way back in here, is she? Because that’s not happening.”
“The only thing she’s trying to worm her way into is an A+ on her history paper,” Sam says, “I told her to forget it.”
You’re quiet a moment, and then you nod.
“Thanks Sam,” You say, “Can you do that? Send her away? Isn’t it your job?”
Sam shrugs.
“I don’t know,” She admits, honestly, “I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.”
-
“You can’t turn her away Sam, it’s your job.” Says Sam’s supervisor, sternly, in the morning, “The poor girl was in here in tears last night. There’s no one else.”
Sam pauses.
“It’s just-“ She tries, “She has a complicated relationship with my sister and her girlfriend. They used to be roommates. She made some unwanted advances and they kicked her out. I can’t tutor her. It’s a conflict of interest.”
Her supervisor smiles, a little passive aggressive.
“Spend less time worrying about conflicts of interest Sam,” He tells her, “And more time teaching them”.
He punctuates his point by tapping down on a book about Palestine.
And Sam sighs.
-
“I could just quit,” Sam says later, over a sad looking salad in the cafeteria with Mindy, “I mean, I only took this job because Tara asked me to help out with rent for a bit.”
Mindy looks over, eyebrows raised.
“Doesn’t quitting your job defeat the purpose of helping Tara with rent?” She asks.
Sam bites her lip.
“I suppose…” She admits, “Though it wouldn’t be too hard to get a new one. It’s not like the pay is that great, anyway.”
“I thought you loved your new job,” Says Mindy, “You were saying only last week how good it feels to finally have something fulfilling in your life.”
“It’s just a job, at the end of the day, Mindy,” Says Sam. She ponders this over a mouthful of lettuce, “Besides, Tara is my sister. She comes first.”
Mindy purses her lips.
“And you think she would do the same for you?” Asks Mindy, after a moment, “Quit her job for you? Fly across the country and move into your apartment to bail her out?”
Sam straightens her shoulders.
“I’d like to think so,” She says, somewhat defensively.
Even if she doesn’t believe it.
Mindy shakes her head with a sigh.
“She won’t even stop banging her girl at six AM for you,” Mindy says, “She won’t even let you get a decent night’s sleep.”
“They’ve said they’ll be quieter.” Sam says, softly.
Mindy shoots her a look.
“And how many times have they told you that?” She asks.
Sam averts her gaze.
Too many times to count.
“Don’t do her any favors, Sam.”
Sam stares.
“And I thought she was supposed to be your friend?” Sam asks, somewhat pointedly.
“She is,” Says Mindy, “She’s my friend. And I love her. But she’s selfish as fuck, Sam. You know that. You’re related to that. You’re already being a good big sister. But you don’t have to give up everything for her, Sam. Do something for yourself for once.”
“And Quinn Bailey is me doing something for myself?” Sam asks, eyebrows raised.
“If she lets you keep the job you love, sure.” Says Mindy, “Tara will get over it. Besides, you’re only tutoring the girl. What’s the worst that can happen?”
Sam chews her lip.
And considers it.
-
“I’ll help you,” She tells Quinn, a little later over the phone, “Despite my better judgment, I’ll help you.”
Quinn lets out a breathy sigh, “Oh, Sam - thank you so much-“
“I’m not doing it for you,” Sam says, voice stern, “And we’re not friends. I don’t want you coming to the apartment and upsetting my sister and her girlfriend. We’ll meet at the library, every evening around eight. Okay?”
“Okay,” Quinn agrees, before she hesitates, “It’s not about Tara, Sam, I really just need the help.”
Sam hums.
“See you tonight.”
-
“You’re meeting who at the library?” Tara explodes over the dinner table.
Sam sighs. Helps herself to more potatoes.
“I don’t have a choice, Tara,” She says, “It’s my job.”
But Tara’s eyes are wide as if Sam has betrayed her.
This is how Tara works. Black and white, no shades of gray.
Mindy’s words echo through Sam’s head.
Don’t do her any favors, Sam.
You touch Tara’s arm.
“It’s alright, Sam, we know,” You say, voice gentle.
“Are you doing this to punish me?” Tara asks, eyebrows knit, “You don’t like us fucking loudly and so for revenge you’re going to tutor the girl who tried to destroy our relationship?”
“I need the money, Tara,” Sam says, voice tired, “If I lose this job I won’t be able to chip in for rent.”
“So get a new job,” Tara says, immediately, as if it’s a perfectly reasonable request.
“I like my job.” Says Sam, “I’m not getting a new one.”
Tara splutters. She looks over to you, wide-eyed, “And you’re okay with this?” She asks, in disbelief.
“Tara,” You say, knitting your brows, “It’s not our decision-”
“Like hell, it’s not,” Says Tara, “You’re my sister. You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“There are no sides, Tara.” Sam says, “This isn’t world war three - as much as you’d like it to be. I’m helping her out because I’ll get fired if I don’t. I’ve already told her she’s not coming to the apartment. You won’t have to see her. If she tries anything, I’ll shut it down. Alright?”
You touch Tara’s back.
“It’s fine, Sam,” You say, quietly, “Baby, it’s okay. We’re not seeing her again.”
“Yeah, right.” Tara scoffs, “Please. This is just another one of her ploys.”
She looks over at Sam.
“She tried to steal me, Sam, we told you that, right?” She says, sounding scandalized.
Sam rolls her eyes.
“Yes, you told me that,” Says Sam, “And it didn’t count for shit because you’re a loyal girlfriend and your head couldn’t be turned. Right?”
Tara thinks. She blinks as if her brain is short-circuiting.
“Right.” She says, voice slow.
“Perfect,” Sam says, voice dry, as she stands, “Look, Tara, please don’t be mad at me. You know I wouldn’t see her if I had the choice.”
Tara folds her arms.
Sam sighs.
She leans down to press a kiss to the top of Tara’s head.
But Tara jerks away.
“Go, Sam, you’re going to do what you want anyway." She says, sounding surly.
Sam slips her bag over her shoulder.
“Bye, girls.” She says, a little dejected, “Love you.”
But it falls on deaf ears.
-
You and Tara are arguing when Sam leaves.
“Why do you care so much, Tara?” You ask, voice hot, “You’re scared she’ll try to kiss you again and you won’t be able to resist?”
“Baby, that’s ridiculous.” Tara says, outraged, “I don’t want to see her again because she upsets you.”
Sam sighs, and clicks the door closed.
The sound of both your voices echoing down the hall.
Your neighbors must hate you.
When Sam arrives in the library, Quinn’s already there.
“Hey,” She says, voice bright, and then pauses, “Thanks for coming.”
“It’s my job,” Sam reminds her, voice a little tight.
“Well, regardless, thanks.” Says Quinn.
She sets her books down, slips into the seat next to Sam, wide-eyed and eager. Sam appraises her.
She’s dressed a little inappropriately for a library study session.
Short skirt, crop top. Her hair in pigtails, face flush with eyeliner and blush.
Sam ignores the flutter that settles in her belly and pulls up a chair.
“Was YN mad you decided to tutor me?” Is her first question.
Sam opens her book, and points to the first sentence.
“We’re not talking about them,” She says.
Quinn chews her lips.
“I don’t want to get you in trouble,” Quinn says, “You seem really nice, Sam, you don’t deserve that.”
“Quinn.” Sam says, a little on edge.
Like she’s starting to think this is a mistake.
“Sorry,” Says Quinn, settling onto her elbows, “You’re right. Let’s not talk about them. Tell me all about the Yom Kippur War.”
And Sam does.
It’s a little difficult.
Much more difficult than teaching her other students. Quinn doesn’t take her eyes off her. She plays with her hair, bats her eyelids, licks her lips.
Sam clears her throat, starting to feel like prey.
But then Quinn changes the topic.
“I hope you’re ready to be the most consistent person in my life, Sam,” She says, blowing her hair out of her eyes, “Every night. I think if you were to define my dating life, comedy would be the word that springs to mind.”
Sam raises her eyebrows.
“Mine too,” She mumbles.
Quinn rolls her eyes and sighs.
“Tell me about it. I always pick the wrong guy,” Says Quinn, sounding a little frustrated, “Or girl most recently. Always the emotionally unavailable ones - or the physically unavailable ones. I think there's something wrong with me. Like a romance disease.”
Sam cracks a smile.
“I think we’ve got the same illness,” She teases, “I have a similar track record.”
Quinn sits a little straighter.
“Oh, yeah?” She asks, “Like who?”
Flashes of Richie blindsight Sam. His smile. His laugh. They way he’d kissed her.
The way he’d lied to her.
Tried to literally murder her sister.
Sam swallows, bad taste suddenly filling her mouth.
“No-one,” She says, hurriedly, “Just a bad ex-boyfriend.”
Quinn nods.
“I have a few of those,” She says, and then she bites her lip.
Sam reverts to feeling like prey. Something weird simmers in the depths of her belly as she meets Quinn’s piercing gaze.
“Have you only had boyfriends?” Quinn enquiries suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere.
Sam’s eyes flicker up.
“Enough about boyfriends,” She says, clearing her throat, “Back to the Yom Kippur War.”
Quinn’s smile is sly.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
“I’ve only had boyfriends, and I only ever will.” Sam says, voice flat, “Now, the war.”
“How come?” Quinn blinks, wide-eyed, “You never wondered? You never tried it?”
“No,” Sam says, “Quinn, please.”
Quinn bites her lip.
“Fine,” She says, with a stretch, “I’ll stop busting your balls.”
Her eyes flicker up to Sam’s.
“As long as you remember - balls aren’t the only option.”
-
Mindy howls over lunch.
“It’s not that funny, Mindy,” Sam says, looking around. Well aware people are starting to stare, “Hey, shut up. I’m in a crisis here.”
Mindy draws her shoulders. Takes a deep breath. But her face breaks out immediately.
Her laugh turns into a snort.
“I’m sorry, Sam, it’s just too good-“ She says, between breaths, “She really said that?”
Sam nods. It sets Mindy off once more.
“Damn this girl has an agenda,” Mindy says, still laughing, “She wants into those Carpenter panties, she really doesn’t care who’s wearing them.”
“Stop being gross and help me,” Sam hisses.
“Just tell her you like dick,” Mindy says, with a shrug, finally calming down.
“I think we’ve established I tried that already,” Says Sam, cheeks flushed, “I get the impression no means yes to her. You know what - I know it for a fact.”
She chews her lip.
“Maybe I should just quit.”
“Relax, Sam,” Says Mindy, with a groan, “This Quinn girl - she’s persistent, sure. But I doubt she’s dangerous or anything. Worst she’ll do is try to kiss you. Hey, then maybe you can put her in a headlock too. Give you and Tara something to bond about.”
Sam glares.
Mindy holds back another laugh.
“Look - say you quit - then what? You get another job, waiting tables or working at a movie theater and hate your life. More than you already hate it.”
Sam scowls.
“I don’t hate my life,” She says.
Mindy nods.
“Sure, but you don’t love it. Let’s see,” She lists them off on her fingers, “No college degree, no boyfriend, no parents, your friends are a bunch of kids you used to babysit, and your alarm is having to listen to your sister take her girlfriend to pound town every morning.”
Sam’s ears flame red.
“You’re disgusting,” She says, voice flat, “And my life is just fine, thank you.”
Mindy shrugs.
“If you say so,” She says, slurping at her milkshake. She pauses, “God, that just made me sad. Maybe you should bang Quinn.”
“Very helpful,” Sam grumbles, as she stands, “Thanks Mindy.”
-
Sam gets home late - on purpose.
The last thing she wants to do is deal with the changing winds of Tara’s mood swings. Or even worse - the “I told you so”, which she’s sure is to come.
She hits the gym.
Tries to decompress her own thoughts.
Quinn is only trying to get close to Tara, she reasons, Quinn wants you because she can’t have your sister.
Her treadmill jog turns into a sprint.
And you’re straight.
It’s dark by the time Sam gets home.
But when she enters the apartment, expecting an empty living room - Tara’s sprawled across the couch.
The lights are out, and Sam squints as she makes out her sister's figure.
Tara sits up, like she’s been waiting for her.
Storm in her eyes.
“I hope you’re happy with yourself,” Says Tara, arms crossed. The couch has been transformed into a makeshift bed, in which she is clearly sleeping in.
Alone.
“Your new best buddy Quinn has caused disarray in my relationship.”
Sam sighs, setting down her bag.
“What happened?” She asks, reaching into the fridge for a beer. Alcohol is always necessary when Tara is like this.
Tara crosses her arms.
“You know what happened,” She says, “We got rid of Quinn and you brought her back into our lives.”
“Quinn’s not in your life, Tara,” Sam reminds her, “She’s barely in mine. You really think she’s worth picking arguments over?”
Tara frowns.
“I didn’t pick an argument,” Tara says, “You’re the one who brought it up.”
“And so you’re sleeping on the couch?” Sam asks, eyebrows raised, “What did you say?”
Tara huffs.
“Why do you always assume it was me who said something?” She asks.
“Because it usually is.” Sam retorts. She lifts the beer to her lips and takes a long swig.
Tara’s quiet.
“I just suggested we should… maybe help you look for a new job or something.”
Sam stares.
“Make you quit your job, is what I said, I think.” Tara says, a little sheepish, “YN’s mad because she doesn’t think I treat you well, or whatever. But I told her you don’t care about that. We’re sisters, we treat each other badly. That’s just how it goes.”
She looks over to Sam, expectantly. Like she’s waiting for her to agree.
Sam blinks. A sharp wave of hurt flushes through her chest that she can’t quite swallow.
“I don’t treat you badly, Tara, I love you.” Says Sam after a long moment. There’s pain in her chest, making her words hard to get out, “I flew across the country for you. I’m living in a shoebox apartment infested with cockroaches for you. I fought Ghostface for you.”
Tara blinks.
“I tell you I love you everyday, before I leave, do you know that?” Sam asks, eyebrows crinkled, “But you never say it back. Why do you never say it back?”
Tara just stares, eyes owlish.
Sam might cry.
Mindy’s half-cocked summary of her life had also made Sam a little sad. Because what does she have, truly?
No boyfriend, no friends, a sister who treats her less than human. Like Sam’s a piece of dog-shit on the bottom of her shoe that she can’t quite shake.
She won’t cry in front of Tara.
Sam drops the empty beer bottle to the counter and rubs her eyes. Her sadness momentarily turns to anger.
“I do everything for you,” Sam tells her, after a long moment, “But I love this job. This time you can do something for me. You can accept it.”
-
When Sam leaves in the morning, the apartment is strangely somber.
Tara’s avoiding Sam. You’re not talking to Tara. Sam’s not talking to anyone.
You don’t really talk to anyone, nowadays, anyway, she thinks, and then bats away the dreary thought.
She spends the day on auto-pilot. Tries to will away the self-deprecating hatred brewing in the pit of her stomach.
Quinn’s smiling when she finally makes her way into the library.
Maybe the only person in her life happy to see her.
It’s a sad thought, even for Sam.
“Joe’s in the best pizza,” Quinn gushes, touching her arm, a little bit into their study session, “Now you live in New York you’ve got to get serious about this kind of thing.”
Sam bites her lip.
“I don’t know how much longer I’ll be in town anyway,” Says Sam, “I’m thinking about going home.”
Quinn tilts her head.
“How come?”
Sam shakes her head.
“I’m just- I’m in Tara’s space. It’s not good for our relationship.”
Quinn hums.
Sam blinks.
“Sorry,” She says, catching herself, “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. Let’s start on the next chapter.”
“Tara won’t have any space if you leave her here,” Quinn says, tilting her chin, “Believe me. I lived in that apartment. I know how expensive it is.”
“It’s an expensive shit-hole,” Sam mumbles, “You know every shower I’ve had this week has been cold?”
Quinn nods, sympathetically.
“I remember.”
Sam surveys her for a moment.
Her brows crease. And her curiosity gets the better of her.
“Why’d you do it, anyway?” She asks, “Go for my sister? I mean, five minutes alone with the two of them and anyone could see how in love they are.”
Quinn shifts.
Averts her gaze, suddenly shy.
It makes Sam frown.
“I don’t know,” Quinn says, after a long moment, “Your sister- she seems like a really good girlfriend. I’ve only had bad boyfriends. Maybe I just wanted a change. Someone to treat me right, for once.”
“And you really thought you could do it?” Sam asks, eyebrow raised, “Seduce her?”
“No,” Quinn admits, “But it was fun to try. I like that. People I can’t have.”
Sam quirks an eyebrow.
“You’re lucky YN didn’t beat your ass,” Sam says, the ghost of a smile on her lips, “I’ve seen her do much worse.”
Quinn licks her lips.
“Your sister is really beautiful,” She says, after a moment, “But you’re much prettier. Supermodel pretty.”
The back of Sam’s neck prickles.
Quinn scoots in a little closer.
Their thighs touch. A spark flushes through Sam’s body, embering into wildfire before Sam can get a grip on it.
Quinn’s lips are red. Her blue eyes are dilated. In the glow of the library-light, Sam could almost lean in…
Instead, she stands. Snapping up like she might die if she doesn’t.
“Quinn,” She says, voice flustered, “I’m not stupid, I know what you’re trying to do.”
Quinn blinks. She cocks her head, dark eyes flashing with innocence.
“And what am I trying to do?”
“You couldn’t have Tara, so you’re throwing yourself at me,” Sam says, voice firm, “You think you’re slick, Quinn, but I see right through you.”
Quinn tilts her head.
“I just said you were prettier than her.” She says, “Your sister - she’s nice. She’s cute in a pedestrian sort of way. But you - you’re beautiful. Maybe the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”
Sam can’t help the blush that stems from the bloom in her stomach and sprouts beet red in her cheeks.
Quinn Bailey can talk.
But Sam isn’t falling for it.
“I’ve got to go,” She says, slinging her back over her arm, “I have- plans.”
There are no plans. Sam hopes it isn’t obvious.
Quinn purses her lips.
“Anywhere fun?” She asks, easy smile on her lips, “Maybe I could come?”
“Bye, Quinn,” Sam says, voice firm.
And all but stumbles out of the library with Quinn watching.
-
“Mindy,” Sam groans, down the phone line on her walk home, “You have to help me. I’m in trouble. Big trouble.”
“Let me guess,” Mindy says. She sounds like she’s out somewhere - at a bar, or a particularly echoey house party, “You have a big fat hickey on your neck courtesy of one Quinn Bailey?”
Sam’s cheeks flame.
“I’m straight, Mindy,” She says, though her voice hovers, “You know that. Quinn - she won’t stop. She threw herself at me again tonight.”
“Well, maybe you should just let her fuck you,” Mindy suggests, unhelpfully. She sounds a little drunk, “The girl likes what she can’t have so let her have you. Then she’ll leave you alone.”
“That is some particularly unhelpful logic,” Snaps Sam, “Where are you, anyway? It sounds like there’s three of you.”
“We’re at one of Chad’s lame house parties,” Says Mindy, “God, your sister’s in a mood, you know that? She’s scaring off all the cute girls. Not even YN can calm her down.”
“Oh,” Says Sam, stopping in her tracks, “You’re throwing a party? Who’s there?”
“Me, Tara, YN, Chad, Liv,” Says Mindy, without a beat, “Plus every other freshman on campus. Chad tried to get some seniors to come, but he’s a little far off becoming the campus hotshot again.”
Something pangs deep within Sam’s chest.
Loneliness coils like a snake around her heart, tugging, tugging, tugging.
The line is quiet, and Mindy seems to realize her mistake.
“You don’t want to be here though Sam, it’s super lame. Just freshmen.” She says, hurriedly.
“Of course not.” Sam says, trying to keep her voice light.
Why would she want to be there? At some lame party with kids four years younger than her, drinking like it’s the first - and last - drop of alcohol they’ve ever had in their lives.
Because, sings that little voice in the back of her head, every friend you have in this city is there. And not one thought to invite you. Not even your own sister.
“You can come if you want,” Mindy suggests, a moment later, “I’m really sorry, Sam, I didn’t even think-”
Sam bites her lip. Hard.
“The last thing I want to do is watch a bunch of kids get wasted off keg-stands,” Sam says. She takes in a breath, and she doesn’t know why - but she’s desperate for Mindy to believe her, “Enjoy the party, Mindy, I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
“Sure,” Mindy echoes, “Night, Sam.”
-
It really is pathetic, Sam thinks as she pours herself a large glass of wine, your life. It’s pathetic.
It’s Friday night.
She should be out. She should be drinking and partying with friends her own age. She should be dancing in a club, dragging a stranger home and regretting it in the morning.
What she shouldn’t be doing - is lounging around in her sister’s apartment, drinking by herself. She shouldn’t be moping about an invitation to a party with a friend group that isn’t even hers.
She’s made Tara her world.
But in Tara’s world, she’s not even a thought.
Not a sun, not a star, not even a moon.
Maybe, if she’s lucky, a bit of space-junk Tara can’t quite shake from her orbit.
Pathetic.
Space-junk, she thinks briefly, that’s a good name for you. A waste of space, more like.
Sam sinks another glass of wine.
The buzz feels nice. But the apartment is too quiet.
Just Sam and her thoughts - a dangerous mix.
And then - her phone buzzes. Sam has five glasses of wine in her. She answers, without checking who’s calling.
And her voice catches in her throat when she hears the voice on the other end of the line.
“Hey stranger,” Says Quinn, “I just wanted to call. I didn’t want to leave our conversation the way it was.”
Sam pauses.
She blinks - the room spins.
“If you’re not interested, I understand,” Continues Quinn, and her voice lowers, “But I think you’ve misunderstood me.”
Sam’s heartbeat jumps out of her chest. The hairs on the back of her arm raise, something she can’t quite name surges through her veins.
She swallows, but her mouth is dry. Despite the constant flow of alcoholic lubrication.
Quinn pauses a moment, and then sighs.
“I don’t want you because of your sister,” Quinn says, voice graveled, “I want you because you’re beautiful.”
Sam hums.
She closes her eyes, but she’s still spinning.
High off alcohol, high off arousal, high off something.
It feels nice to be wanted, no matter who is doing the wanting.
She closes her lips, once. Tries to hang up. But she can’t.
Then, she bites her lip.
“Come over.”
#all hers#qbmd#fanfic#mine#tara carpenter#sam carpenter#tara carpenter x you#tara carpenter x yn#tara carpenter x reader#sam carpenter x quinn bailey#scream#scream vi#ghostface!tara
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behind closed curtains
diluc ragnvindr x afab!reader | 2.1k + words
warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, no pronouns used, masturbation, a tiny bit of voyeurism if you squint, oral (receiving), diluc cumming untouched
it wasn’t unusual for the dark knight hero to pass through this particular part of mondstadt multiple times throughout the night. it was hardly somewhere that monsters could easily get but still he watched over this small apartment building nestled behind a flower shop and a large birch tree.
ruby eyes flash to a window on the second floor, the drawn curtains keeping his beloved from view but it was enough to know that you were safe and comfortable, even if he wished he could be there with you now.
but it was late, the moon having long hung in the sky and cooled the breeze that carried throughout the city, the dreams of those in the land of anemo archon quieting the street. you should be asleep, at least he hoped you would be but he also could not help how the desire to constantly be within your shining radiances, basking in your love and showering you with his own, made his heart strings go taut.
surely it would be fine if he checks on you? a gentle kiss to your forehead before pulling the covers back over your shoulder, stealing too many glances at your lovely sleeping visage, fighting the urge to slip into the covers with you, all before he returns to the dark shadows. he had before and you had given him permission to do so, at times waking up slowly to see silver light spilling through the curtains and wondering if the familiar warmth of him that lingered on your skin and the way his voice that easily coaxed you back to sleep was only a dream.
the only thing you could dream of more was a dream where he stayed and you got to wake up in his arms; see the man proclaimed to be ‘hardened’ look so soft and so unbelievably handsome, if not seeming a few years younger, as long lashes rested atop his cheeks and locks of red spread around him like a halo of fire in the yellow morning light.
did you know how badly he wished for the same, how terribly hard it was to tear himself from your side?
his boots were quiet, stealthy so as to not wake the neighbors that lived below you or draw unnecessary attention to himself, as he easily made his way up to the ledge of your window and with skilled fingers slid the glass open without making a sound.
he hadn’t even swung one leg inside your bedroom before he heard a breathless moan of his name from your lips, labored yet blissful and dripping with need. it’s a melody that ignites his chest, spreads warmth across his cheeks and the tips of his ears, and has his cock beginning to strain against his pants.
wanting to always respect your privacy, he hesitates to push back the curtains hiding what is surely a sinful sight of you touching yourself to the thought of him. but every moment that passes with his heart picking up speed, not at all helping how hard he’s becoming, he can’t ignore the sounds you make, the soft lewd quelches of your fingers playing with your wet pussy or the whimpers you make that he desperately wanted to hear louder and at the mercy of his touches.
the tap of his boots on your floor and the movement of curtains doesn’t draw your attention and for a moment, all the while diluc swore his entire being was going to catching on fire, he admires your naked body illuminated by moonlight laying atop your sheets, your fingers pumping in and out of your tight hole, your eyes closed and mouth parted from your heavy breaths that bring hungry eyes to your breasts.
it's only when he can’t take it any longer, can’t possibly bear to keep himself from between your legs or resist the need to have the taste of you on his tongue after seeing the slick that coats your fingers and glistens against your folds, that he unclips the cape that normally kept him blended with the dark of night and takes a step towards you.
“fucking archons..” he curses under his breath, your doe eyed look that flickers with happiness at the realization he really was here making him even harder.
“d-diluc! wha - i c-can- i mean -”
he lets out a breathless chuckle at how quickly you close your legs, your embarrassment evident but you had no reason to be embarrassed. never with him and especially not when he was so prideful knowing you were imagining it was his own fingers buried inside of you, thick and reaching deep, something you could not recreate by yourself but archons you looked like such a sweet thing trying.
“apologies my love, i didn’t mean to frighten you.”
his strides are long, his impressive length showing through his pants but as soon as he's close enough he reaches for you smooth leather gloves and the warm hands within them are adding fuel to your already burning skin, pulling your legs apart with tenderness but enough force that you couldn’t fight it, not that you even wanted to try. no, you were more than willing to give diluc all of you.
all you can focus on are the ruby orbs of the man you love, eyes that threaten to engulf you in their flames and never let you go. but you were encased within them long before now and tonight you would sink even deeper into their depths.
“have i made you lonely?” he asks, genuine concern laced in his tone.
it was easy for him to use his strength to protect you, move you from prying eyes and danger, carry your sleeping figure from the couch in his study to his bed or move your body as he wished when tangled in silk sheets and beaded with sweat. not that you resisted him but even when his grip was tight he’s so gentle with the way he pulls you closer to the edge of the bed, like you might break if he moves too fast.
he lowers onto his knees before you, the tips of his bangs tickling your inner thigh as he nuzzles his nose against your plush skin, feeling his cock twitch at the way your body reacts to just this little touch.
“n-no! never ‘luc.. n..never with you” your voice shakes in time with your legs and his heart stalls the sweet nickname. he hadn’t quite gotten used to it yet but he wasn’t sure he ever would, not when it was you calling him. “i just..” you bite your bottom lip before turning your gaze from his but still continuing, quiet and shy but oh so adorable. “just wanted you so badly..”
you can feel him smile against your skin, his kisses growing sloppier against your skin but never close to your aching sex. “were your fingers enough to sate your want angel?”
his bold words shock you, even if they did make your stomach flutter with butterflies and your pussy clench around nothing.
they weren’t enough.. you could never reach as deep as he could, could never drive yourself to the kind of bliss that had tears clinging to your lashes like only diluc ever could or had.
“‘luc.. please..” you beg, reaching out for him, to lose your fingers in his thick hair and guide him to your need but he captures them within his own much larger hands and places kisses the tips of each of your fingers instead, much too chastely for how naughty the sight of him on his knees before your bare body was.
“were they?” he asks again, the heat of his breath captured on your hands.
“.. no,” you whimper your answer much to your chagrin but happy to hear your confession, with his own carnal need to gift you that pleasure, he finally lets you touch him in return.
with your fingers tangled in tendrils of red he litters both of your legs with kisses after loving kisses, slow licks and nibbles but never in the place you needed him most. warm saliva cools against your skin the more he showers you with his affection until his lips have tasted nearly every inch of shaking thighs.
even as he moves to dangle your legs over his shoulders he’s still littering them with his love, coming closer and closer to your sticky cunt, teasing and fleeting near your dripping folds until you’re begging and then suddenly, without warning, his burning tongue is running from your eager hole up to your clit and back down again.
your back bows off of the bed and he groans loudly, shamelessly, as he drinks you in, already feeling utterly intoxicated by you; your taste, the way you squirm in his hold at his relentless movements that are somehow too much and not enough, your fingers finding their way deeper into his hair and he’d be sure it wouldn’t be much longer now before you were pulling on the soft strands while you cried his name.
powerful fingers sink into the fat of your thighs to keep them spread with each passing moment that he devours your pretty pussy like he may never get to taste you again. his tongue is hot and consumes your every thought, every nerve in your body as he licks and laps at your folds.
one of his hands leaves your thigh to spread your pussy lips, the leather not as soft as his skin but familiar all the same. he flicks his tongue against your exposed and twitching clit, the way you wither and moan at his ministrations driving him to want to give you more, more, more.
“ah~ d-diluc!” you cry out when he wraps his lips around your clit, feeling how badly and quickly it builds the burning knot behind your stomach that just might burst on him if he kept working you like this.
but he was always one to get lost in the pleasure of your cunt, going down on you like this satisfying him just as much as it did you.
his deep groans join your lovely noises, the taste of you finer and more intoxicating than any wine he could ever create in the cellars of the dawn winery but only he would get to know the pleasure of this, only he would get to be the one to feel your velvety walls clench around his tongue when he buries it deep inside of you, tongue fucking you and feeling his cock throb against the seem of his pants.
you pull him into you, lifting your hips to allow his tongue to reach deeper inside of you or perhaps it was simply because you can’t help it when he’s making you feel this good, he doesn’t know which but your reactions spur him on and he doesn’t relent his tongue for a moment.
the only word you seem to know is his name. you chant it like a mantra and each one rings through his ears and ripples down his body. always call his name.. always be his.. always let him bring you to celestia and back..
a mix of your juices and his saliva drips down your folds and to your ass, so wet he can easily slip two, thick, gloved fingers into your cunt, feeling your walls clench around them the moment he’s knuckles deep and curling them right into the spot that always has you seeing stars as he suckles on your clit.
“‘luc.. ah! i.. i’m gonna.. c- cum ~ ing!”
he groans and curses into your pussy at the first taste of your release, pumping his fingers at the perfect pace for you to ride out your high as long as you can. your fingers tug on his locks hard and it takes the last bit of his own sanity, his rock hard dick pulsing as he releases right into his pants, untouched and god there was so much as he kept leaking more the longer you came undone around him but archons he feels like he could go over and over again if it meant you’d squeeze his length as hard as you are his digits, if he’d get to keep the sweet taste of you melting on his taste buds.
and tonight, as he sheds his clothes, relieving scarred pale skin and tone muscles that you could never seem to get enough of, he comes to stand with your legs on either side of his thin waist and finally kisses you, the lingering taste of your release coating your lips, you think he may do just that.
genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist
#diluc ragnvindr x reader#diluc x reader#diluc ragnvindr#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#diluc ragnvindr smut#genshin impact smut#diluc smut#genshin smut#🌙moonlight.stories
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Kara never thought of it when Lena first asked her this question.
"What if someone says; in like a few years maybe, I'd be...gone?" Lena asks, staring at the distance.
Kara got confused at this question. But decided to answer anyway. "Well, I'd most likely, punch them or something. I'm not letting that happen."
Lena chuckled. "You're right...I guess it's just another existential crisis."
"Want to talk about it?" Kara asks softly. Lena just smiles at her. "No, darling. It's alright. It's just one of those times."
"Well, if you need anything...food, movies, a hug, I'm right here."
Lena laughs and nods. "Got that."
She didn't ask that question for no reason. She isn't sure if Kara already figured this fact out already, but their time is limited. Because Kara won't die unless she gets killed with Kryptonite or the day the yellow sun flying over them dies.
Lena knows there's a chance that Kara's life could be at stake at any given moment, but at the same time...there's a possibility that she could have Kara for the rest of her life. While Kara won't have Lena, nor the rest of their family for the rest of her life.
See here's the thing, Kara knew that. But ignorance is a bliss, as they say. She pretends that the day won't come.
But...maybe she indulged herself too much.
Because right now, Kara, swear to Rao, drops the car she's currently carrying as her eyes widen in fear. Through a window, not that big, but big enough for her to witness it firsthand.
Lena, sweet, gentle, beautiful Lena, with a knife pierced through her neck. She heard the enemy responsible for it, the one who's back is facing the window, laugh. Fucking laugh. Kara and Lena make eye contact through the window, Lena smiling gently, softly, warmly, at her. Muttering something no human could hear, but Kara heard so clearly. Her voice as soft as her gaze.
"I love you."
Kara barges in, breaking the whole wall, she rushes to her, hoping she could still save her. Hoping she wouldn't lose her. She can't lose Lena, she just can't.
However, it was too late. The knife stabbed a very fatal spot, and Kara witnesses Lena drop to the ground.
Kara can no longer hear her heartbeat.
"Aww, look at Supergirl. The Paragon of Hope, looking hopeless-"
Before this asshole can finish, Kara pushes him, actually pushes him off the broken wall, she hears him scream and plummet down, but she doesn't care.
"Lena?"
Nothing.
"Please, no. No. Fuck. Please don't leave me, don't take her too, please." Kara tries to get help, but to no avail.
Lena Luthor's death was publicly announced two days later. Many were happy at the fact that there was not a single Luthor left. The Superfriends grieved in their own ways. At least some people in the city actually acknowledged what Lena did for the world and paid their respects. The Superfriends tried to comfort Kara. She appreciates it, of course, but it won't bring Lena, Kara's...everything, back to her.
Now everywhere she goes, Kara just sees Lena.
She would try to go to Big Belly Burger, she just remembers that time they celebrated Lena's birthday there. Noonan's? She just sees Lena's smile when Kara gives her coffee from that place. The park in National City? That time Lena used her magic fully for the first time. CatCo? She remembers every hall Lena ever walked in. She sees a book? She remembers Lena giving her one.
Her own apartment also reminds her of Lena, all the times they had there. Certain foods remind her of Lena. Everything around her is now just a ghost of Lena. Even fucking kryptonite reminds her of Lena.
She's everywhere Kara goes.
No one in the city realized how much Supergirl was so torn over the loss of Lena Luthor.
Some dickwads actually thought she was happy about it, which some idiot reporter asked her one day.
"You must be really relieved that the last Luthor is no longer a threat."
Kara stays silent, yet her eyes emmit everything she wants to say.
Kelly holds back an angry Alex from hitting someone, but Kelly herself is yelling about how insensitive that was, about how this reporter is disrespecting the dead, about how they forgot that Lena worked with Supergirl. Both Brainy and Nia list down everything that Lena has done to save the city.
Kara? She's been silent, before taking a deep breath, looking at the reporter, knowing there are cameras surrounding her, she says,
"This world is nothing without her."
Then, she flies away, higher into the blue skies and screams.
Would you look at that, world. There's a Luthor that successfully broke a Super.
#supergirl#supercorp#lena luthor#kara danvers#kara zor el#kara x lena#angst#i saw a miraculous prompt like this on tiktok#wherein marinette looses her memories yet adrien carries every moment with him#and my brain said: HEY imagine this but supercorp#and i went: bitch bET#and now here we are#hope you liked it :)#i realized i hadn't written them yet#well i have but not in this kind of way#it was always cracks i never wrote an actual well thought of supercorp fic#so here#please like it
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Saw (2004)
STRAY CATS: Adam Faulkner Stanheight x fem!reader
Summary: The stray cats of the streets loved Adam...
Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I may havee made while I wrote this short story.
Warnings: swearing; some references to the bathroom trap, but other than that nothing
•••
The stray cats of the streets loved Adam.
They followed him around. They immediately started to both like and trust him. They liked to walk up to him and rub their backs to his shin, purring while doing so. They learned that following him home meant that they'll get some free food and water.
The stray cats of the streets loved her boyfriend and that fact alone made her heart flutter. And Adam loved the cats, every one of them, as well. He fed them, pet them and made sure they were okay when winter hit especially hard.
Sometimes she was even jealous of the damn cats, no matter how cute they were, how adorably they meowed in Adam's arms or how they purred as she too pet their heads.
Adam gave them more attention than anyone else and when he had one of them in his arms he was smiling with that adorable, loving smile of his, which always put a smile on her face as well. She liked to look at him when he was in a caring mood and she successfully stole his camera once to take a picture of that moment - Adam with the cats. She kept it in her wallet just like Adam kept a photo of her in his.
The first time she noticed what a special relationship he has with the city's cats, was when she accompanied him to Scott's place, who quite rudely demanded some pictures of his band for some new, stupid poster.
It was late and dark, and they were on their way back home hand in hand. Their shoulders were bumping together sometimes and she drew circles into the back of Adam's hand with her thumb.
It had been a long night and just like many times before, he was the punching bag for Scott's remarks once again. She hated the guy, she hated how he didn't respect her boyfriend at all and she hated his sexist remarks too.
"I love you," she spoke up, trying to break the silence and trying to make the dark clouds disappear from above their heads - the clouds were always there when they had an insufferable night. "don't you forget that, okay?" she gave Adam's hand a gentle squeeze. "It doesn't matter what he says, he's just an asshole."
"He's always been that way." came the answer in a tired voice. "You'll get used to it."
"I won't." she said quickly. "I will never get used to how he disrespects you every fucking time he wants something."
It was Adam's turn to give her hand a squeeze and she understood the sign: I'm tired and I'm not in the right mood to talk about it. She respected that and shut her mouth, swallowing down all the names she wanted to call Scott.
"I love you." she said instead, her voice full of the adoration she felt for him.
"I know." she wasn't really sure he knows or understands how much she actually does. "I love you too."
They continued their walk along the dark streets.
She didn't let go of his hand, knowing he needs to feel her touch to find some comfort in her presence after a long - a way too fucking long - day.
That's when she heard it - the meowing. It came from a dark alley and once they stopped to listen and look, it sounded like the cat was closer.
"There you are." Adam spoke to the darkness to her surprise as he let go of her hand. He took a few steps towards the alley and came to a halt when the cat finally appeared under a buildings light. "I was wondering where you disappeared to."
He was talking to the cat.
And he crouched down, letting the cat rub its side to his knees as he countinued talking to it like they were long time friends. He gently put his camera, what he was carrying on his shoulder, aside because it almost touched the ground. It was too precious to break.
She just stood and slightly tilted her head. After the first few shocked moments, she smiled. It was one of those smiles she could feel with her whole body; a shiver running through her, her heart starting to flutter, the muscles in her cheeks hurting.
It was adorable.
It was probably one of the few times she actually witnessed Adam being calm and free from troubling thoughts.
She stepped next to him and then crouched down too, looking at the cat and its glowing eyes as it looked up at her boyfriend.
You love him too, huh? You better.
"You know whose it is?" she asked as she touched the cat's ear and then ran her fingers through its fur - at one point her hand collided with Adam's. They didn't really mind it - at all.
"No." he answered. "Actually, I'm pretty sure she is no one's."
"Are you sure?"
"I know I'm pretty much the only one who feeds her."
She turned to look at him, her lips forming a smile once again.
That's what she loved the most about Adam. He's caring even if he's well aware how fucked the world is. He knows what reality is like, yet he does his best to make it feel good for the people - or in this case animals - he cares about.
"Not anymore." she spoke up, giggling when the cat turned around to get a good look at her, smelling her fingers and then rubbing her back against her hand. "Now the two of us are the ones feeding her."
Adam smiled and she loved that smile.
She loved when he wasn't smiling from their teasing bickering or about her dumb and bad attempts at joking when he got home tired. This smile was soft, heartwarming and honest - showing his true feelings for her.
"She'll follow us home." he said reffering to her place as home.
"It's all right. She'll get the best dinner she's ever had."
That was the first time she saw Adam with the streets' cats - and it wasn't the only one.
Every single time they were walking home at night - no matter the reason -, they ran into one of Adam's cats. That's how she called them - Adam's cats, since he was the only one who ever stopped to care for them.
Adam's want to care for the streets' cats never changed. No matter what time it was, what season it was - or what he went through: he always stopped to pet them, he always led them home to feed them - even if his shoulder still hurt and was in the process of healing.
Just like now, in the present. She is standing in the doorway, leaning into the doorframe watching her boyfriend, observing his every move and gesture, doing her best to memorize all of them because of the deep fear in the back of her mind - the fear she never really talked about.
It's a good thing some things never change, she thinks as she looks at Adam sitting on the floor with a small bowl in front of him.
It's hard to crouch down, the movement hurt too much - she knows that. But he still makes it work.
The cat is eating from the bowl, her whiskers white from the milk. The same cat they've met the first time she saw Adam interacting with the streets' cats.
She doesn't know what to say, so she stays quiet, although she wishes she had Adam's camera in her hands. Adam rarely uses it anymore, but she just couldn't bring herself to throw it away. Now it's in the bottom of her closet in a shoebox.
"You know," she starts after swallowing. "we should just keep her at this point."
Adam looks up at her and she finds it adorable. He's still adorable even if he doesn't smile or laugh as much as he used to - even if his eyes are red from the lack of sleep and his hair is a mess.
"We should?"
She thinks about it for a moment.
Should they? Rent isn't easy to pay, great jobs aren't easy to find. The vet will cost a fortune.
She tilts her head, thinking. But the cat makes Adam happy. And Adam's happiness makes her happy.
"Yeah." she answers without overthinking it. "We definitely should."
And Adam smiles. He really smiles for the first time since the incident, with that heartwarming smile of his; the muscles in his cheeks tightening, his eyes shining. He looks at the cat and pets her back.
She almost cries. She can feel her eyes watering and her lips are twitching, but she grounds herself. She takes a deep breath and swallow the happy tears down. She can cry later.
"We need to find her a name too then." she says as she crouches down next to him. "I'm not great with names."
Adam agrees with her - he's not great with them either. She knows that fact very well and she giggles at that.
"You know what, let's just leave it for tomorrow." she says. "It's getting late and I think she really needs a bath."
It's still a fresh wound - the bathrooms. But this time she can't see any negative reactions at the word. Instead Adam just carefully stands up, hissing when he moves his bad arm.
"Yeah, let's give her a bath."
And they do. By the time they're finished the cat's fur is clean - and their clothes are wet. They just laugh at that, but her heart feels full. So full.
Later that night when they curl up on the couch watching some bad comedy, the cat is in her lap. She pets her head, playing with her ears.
When Adam isn't looking she kisses her fur, tears beginning to appear in her eyes. The cat makes him feel better. He's getting better.
The stray cats of the streets loved Adam - and so did she.
#adam stanheight x reader#adam faulkner stanheight x reader#adam faulkner x reader#adam faulkner stanheight#adam stanheight#adam faulkner#adam stanheight x fem!reader#adam faulkner stanheight x fem!reader#saw movies#saw franchise#saw#saw 2004
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𝐲𝐨𝐮+𝐦𝐞, 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 || 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_ Miguel has a bad reputation after the events with Miles and the spot. You saved him once, now you were gonna clear his name. If only he loved you back…. 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_madame web!reader, age gap (legal), idiots to lovers, slow burn, angst, fluff, sexual content 18+, vague, but still piv sex, and oral (f receiving) happy ending, long ass fic, 8.1k words. 𝐀/𝐍_ any song from my favorite album reputation (but this specifically about end game, don’t blame me, delicate, so it goes, CIWYW, and dress)
♪ ♫ My Miguel O’Hara playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)
___________________________________________
Miguel knew he was lucky to have found you.
You had been his miracle when everything was about to get lost.
A spider woman that was also a telepath, had the ability of clairvoyance, a direct connection with the web of life and destiny.
In every universe, your other versions were blind, sick, and old.
But you were different. Healthy, young, and wise.
“Miguel, you’re the strongest spider I’ve ever seen in my visions. Don’t risk everything you’ve built because of your fears…” you had said with such care and smoothness. And that was enough for him to surrender. He apologized to Miles, begged for help from his fellow spider coworkers, and helped to get rid of the spot.
Although Miguel O’Hara tried and did his best, the damage was done. Nueva York was against him. And half of the spider society too.
He was low-key shocked and depressed. All he ever wanted was to protect as many people as he could. That was his initial thought after carrying the weight of accidentally destroying an entire universe. He wanted to do things right. He wanted a safe place for spiders.
That wasn’t the case in the present though.
Miguel spent most of his days locked in his office. Putting Jess in charge, taking a liking to Ben to be sent on missions. And ignoring the spiders who only were part of the society to help clean the mess spot. He didn’t even visit his apartment in downtown Nueva York. That way he would avoid his city. The one that he had helped, even when the citizens never thanked him.
Miguel knew May's universes. Where people loved their Spider-Man or Spider-Woman. But in Nueva York, it seemed like people were always hesitant about Miguel, well… about Spiderman 2099.
Even the needle that injected the serum Miguel needed, seemed annoying.
He sighed, admitting he was tired.
And it would get worse.
“Hey, Miguel?” Jess asked, poking her head at the entrance of his lab.
“Hmm?”
“People are fighting at the cafeteria again” he exhaled, extremely tired.
“Fuck…” he whispered before activating his mask and following his friend.
“Lyla. Tell me what happened…” the AI appeared immediately and opened a little virtual screen in front of her.
“Another disagreement over the new rules at the HQ” Jessica sighed loudly.
“I don’t get it. We’re giving them a chance to do what they think it’s correct”
That was the issue. After the incidents with The Spot, Miles, and your apparition, Miguel suggested that the spider people could choose whether to stay at the HQ or leave to only work in their respective universes.
But some people wanted to stay, only not with Miguel in charge.
And nobody had the guts to make front to him.
The cafeteria was all barks and curses when Miguel and Jess joined.
“Silence!” The woman yelled. And everyone obeyed, looking shocked and scared even through their masks.
“What happened?” Miguel asked looking down. Even when he knew the reason, he wanted to hear it.
“Nothing, boss. Just this asshole who thinks we should plot against you” said a grey Spider-Man pushing another spider, who seemed to be from a Victorian era.
“We’ve talked about this…” Miguel explained.
“Yeah? Listen, man. I’m only here because my universe always ends up with anomalies. But I don’t want to be your employee. Not after what you did…” said the Victorian spider.
“I’ve also apologized. And it’s been some time for everyone to figure out that I meant it” Nobody said anything.
“That matters? Our perspective has changed. And your apologies can’t soothe it at all”
From the upper level, Peter appeared. Balancing and landing in the middle of the conversation.
“Boy, don’t be like that. We all need each other here. Miguel is not evil, he’s done a lot for us” Miguel was not used to being defended by anyone. And he changed his behavior towards Peter after the incidents. Peter had stayed on his side even after siding with Gwen and Miles.
“Oh, you act like his boyfriend, Peter. What has this asshole done?” Miguel was about to punch Victorian Spider-Man. He was so close…
“That asshole created everything for you to save all the anomalies you claim to have in your universe. Say thank you and don’t be dick…” everyone turned their masks to see you there.
Miguel almost choked.
You were there.
New suit, new haircut, new lipstick. It was you…
“Wow! Y/n! You’re back!” Peter cheered walking to give you a big hug.
“It’s been some time..” you replied smiley.
“Who the hell are you?” The vintage spider asked.
“I’m the one who finished The Spot. And you? Charles Dickens in tights?” Peter and others laughed, surely making Victorian Spider-Man embarrassed.
When you looked again, you finally faced Miguel.
“Hello, Miguel” Your smile was enough to make him feel less worried.
“You’re back…”
“I am. I told you I’d be back” his face remains still. No articulation on any of the muscles, he just stared. And you slightly worried that he might have been not so happy to see you. Until he stepped closer.
“I’m glad you’re here” you smile. Then you face Victorian Spider-Man back.
“I’ll make sure you understand…” through the mask, the vintage spider is giving you a bad look. But you ignore it.
Miguel wonders what you meant. He wants to know everything; why you came back, why you looked happier than the first time, why your hair seemed different, why your lips looked softer. His brain was burning.
The silence dies when most of the spiders start leaving the cafeteria again.
Leaving you alone with Peter, Jess, and Ben who recently joined by the end of the argument.
“So… That was…” Jess babbles but never finishes the sentence.
“I wasn’t threatening him…” you assure her. Miguel eyed you constantly, while Peter could only smile like an idiot.
“So you meant it? How do you plan to make him understand?”
“Not sure yet, but I’ll help” They look confused at each other.
“Mind to elaborate on that?” Jess asks with crossed arms. Not that she didn’t believe you, but you appeared so randomly the first time, and now… the same.
“Hey, we should have dinner to discuss this…” Peter had thought about something, and it would doom everything, for good… and bad. Jess looked at him oblivious, and Miguel remained stoic as usual.
You, on the other hand, were surprised.
Since you were younger, you expected them to not take you seriously. But since day one, they respected you. Which never happened before.
“A dinner? That would actually be nice” Jess agreed.
“We can talk, y/n can explain why she came back and Miguel can be there too” Peter is being silly, but he has faith in his ideas.
“Right, Miguel?” You eye the man, and he only sighs before nodding.
“Awesome, then… How about tomorrow?” Leaving aside the surprise, you smile at the group of adults.
“Okay, so…Jess and I have to go somewhere else.”
“Peter, we don’t-“ Jess tried to say, but Peter shushed her.
“YES!, we need to update our gizmos” exchanging weird looks, they left, leaving you alone with Miguel.
“I’m sorry for… them” you giggle.
“It’s okay, I really like them” he nods. Miguel stares at your shiny and slightly disheveled eyes. Some glitters are scattered across your nose bridge and cheekbones. He wants to clean your face but only stares.
“Do you mind if I stay?” You ask.
“No.”
“Cool.”
“I-, I could show the lab. We have new gizmos” Your excitement is so potent, that even Miguel senses how happy you are.
“I’d like that…”
“Okay. Follow me…” his broad back faced you, and obstructed most of your view.
The HQ was still the same as before. Only that seemed… less crowded.
It saddened again the reason why you came back.
A vision.
Miguel O’Hara is accused of being a violent instigator. Many people from Nueva York demanding him to give up on being Spider-Man.
He would be in pain. A silent pain that you would make sure to free him from.
Because you didn’t owe him anything, he did in fact. But you had a feeling, a tingly feeling that made you feel warm.
“Here it is…” You would never know, that he was nervous. About having you there.
“Wow, I’m not a scientist but I know that very few people have something like this” he wants to smile. You inspect everything, with caution and some insecurity.
“You can touch…” the jars with strange contents, the machines, and tools, everything was very interesting.
Miguel wants to slap himself after analyzing what he has said. It might have sounded inappropriate. But you seem to not have minded.
Lyla suddenly appeared beside the tall man. You smiled widely after spotting her looking at some papers.
“Miguel. You left this report incomplete. And-, OH!-… Y/N! HEY!. What are you doing here?”
“Hello, Lyla. I’m here to help if I’m being honest” Her heart-shaped sunglasses now are butterflies ones. And her hair is slightly shorter. Oh, not to mention her couture coat seemed better with some jewelry around.
“Which you haven’t given details of” Miguel added, arms crossed. His arms looked bigger and you wondered how many hours he trained to keep those giant muscles.
“I’m cleaning your reputation, Miguel” you revealed.
His gesture changed, from a cheeky little chuckle to a serious face.
“My reputation?”
“Yes.” You confirm to him. Even Lyla seems surprised.
“How?” He’s unsure of what or how to feel.
“Empathy.” he laughs. You hear an actual laugh from Miguel O’Hara, even if it’s sarcastic.
“Really? Empathy? You think empathy will make people understand that I’m not a danger to them?” Lyla hurries to appear beside you, like trying to defend you from Miguel.
“When I do things I don’t even want or need to, empathy is what I feel for them” Suddenly, Miguel remembers you are a telepath. And the reason why you came to him the first time, is because you saw something.
“I’m sorry” he apologizes.
“It’s fine. Just… believe on this, please” The lab was in complete silence. Only the beeping sound of a machine draws your attention away from the man in front of you.
Miguel had no choice. He didn’t have the heart to say no to you. Besides, he was still eager to get to know you better.
“Okay.”
“Hey. Can’t you just like to erase their minds and boom? Done?” Lyla asks. You smile at her.
“I’m not powerful enough to do that. But there’s something related I can do. However, I prefer to explain in more detail with the others. Is that okay?” Miguel nods again but wonders what you meant by saying you were not powerful enough, you were literally the only spider person with telepathy and clairvoyance.
“So… See you tomorrow? At dinner?” Lyla inspects your face. She gets lost in your irises, and Lyla’s processing unit makes a statement. One that she will reveal to Miguel just after you leave.
“I guess so.” You giggle and it makes Miguel awkward. He felt some kind of comfort at hearing you laugh.
“Hey, I like your new suit,” you say pointing at his chest before waving goodbye to him and Lyla.
As soon as you disappeared through the door, Lyla squealed and went straight to Miguel giving little hops.
“OH MY GOSH! Did you see that? TELL ME YOU SAW THAT, MIGUEL”
“What are you talking about?” Miguel asked getting heavily annoyed by the AI.
“Well… y/n!. She was so sweet, and the eyes. OH MY!, THE EYES!”
“Could you stop screaming?”
“Oh c’mon, Miguel. You saw it, right?” Lyla pushed.
“What, Lyla?”
“She had heart eyes. And dude, she was definitely flirting by the end” Miguel’s blood went cold. He felt even more awkward, a strange feeling running through his arms, chest, and stomach.
He didn’t like it.
“No. You’re wrong, Lyla”
“I’m an AI, you programmed me to be straight and precise about the things I see”
shit, she was right.
“Okay, enough of this. Call Ben, there’s patrol on earth-37” he acidly said. Lyla shrugged, leaving immediately.
Miguel replayed Lyla’s words over and over.
He could never see you other than a workmate. Probably not even a friend. You were younger, you had suffered your own pain as far as he knew and you had different goals than him.
But you were so sweet, you appeared to help him and you didn’t expect anything in return. This time, you were there for him, again. And your hopes to help and succeed were something Miguel couldn’t crush, he wouldn’t even try.
He didn’t dislike you, but he didn’t believe you turned out to be his epiphany.
He was totally wrong.
…
The sound of glasses, faded conversations and laughs ruled the fancy restaurant.
It’s an early night, the place is full. Miguel chose the best restaurant in Nueva York. A steak and salad place with holographic trees and dim lights. The terrace is also full, but you are inside with your friends… and Miguel.
To Miguel’s dismay, the only thing he has eyes and ears for… were for you.
“And then, my parents discovered the suit. That’s when I had to tell them, it was so embarrassing. But we’re okay at least” Peter was laughing with Jess as they told him how his family discovered you were Spider Woman last Thanksgiving.
“Just because of a burnt turkey?” Peter mocked.
“Just because of a burnt turkey.” You confirm laughing.
For a second, you exchange looks with Miguel and you hurry to sip from your wine. The man noticed and felt guilty. He had been so quiet and he didn’t want you to feel like he was hating the night.
“Isn’t it funny, Miguel?” Peter asks. In his twisted mind, Peter B. Parker really thought he could play Cupid.
Both men were seated together, with you and Jess across them. And you had to be facing Miguel. He stops chewing his food and looks at Peter, but doesn’t reply.
“Do they know about the society?” Miguel didn’t care if society was not a secret anymore. A lot had changed.
You sighed, placing your hair behind your ear.
“I never confirmed it to them. But they must know, they are scientists after all” you shyly explain. He nods, paying attention to your outfit. A maroon dress that seemed elegant, salmon makeup all over your face, and some tiny glitters shined on your eyes.
“Hey, I like your lipstick.” Jess complimented tapping at her own lips.
“Thanks, it’s an old brand back at home” she nodded. And Miguel looked at your lips too. Again that salmon tone, made you look younger.
“We haven’t discussed any of the important stuff” Jess and you stopped talking before turning to look at Miguel.
“Oh, right” Once again, Miguel didn’t mean to sound so harsh. He knew your eyes usually got stuck on his turtleneck sweater to avoid his eyes.
A sudden clatter caught everyone’s attention. When you turned around, a lot of people started screaming and hurrying to run away.
Explosions end up unleashing chaos.
Immediately you and your companions stand up, and through the crystals of the wide windows of the restaurant you see the cause of all the sudden violence.
“Isn’t that…?”
“Lightning?” Miguel asks back, confirming to Jess and Peter that an old enemy is back.
You immediately assumed it was a female variation of Electro. A woman with red hair, a green and golden costume, and a mask covering her eyes.
“Female electro?” Everyone nodded to you.
Since the restaurant was now empty, everyone activated their suits.
Miguel barely had time to see the new webs you had. The first time, he met the first spider with no webs, he wondered how you operated in your earth. Now, you had created some potent glittery webs.
But he focused on Lightning.
“Missed me, love?” The woman asks as soon as Miguel threatens her for the first time in the night.
“Don’t call me that.” Miguel despised the woman. She was pretty, but annoying and horrible.
Lightning attacked Miguel and the bright lights made you turn away from the bridge Peter, Jess and you were trying to stop from collapsing.
“Go. Miguel needs you” Peter said to you, groaning as he did his best to save everyone.
“But I can’t leave you two alone”
“Just go!” Jess added too.
Doubting, you end up breaking the webs you made.
You follow the lights.
You swing across the futuristic city with desperation because you know Miguel does not possess a spider-sense.
Also, you realized a night before, how much you cared about him.
Miguel was still an enigma. You barely knew him, yet… You felt like you had some influence.
The moment you told him in the middle of the chaos to stop chasing Miles, to do the right thing. It felt special.
Like your voice had an effect that wasn’t part of the telepathy you handled.
In the present, you gasp when another lightning hits near the top of a building.
With your webs, you land. Only to see Miguel cornering the woman.
He is saying something to her.
You don’t like the image.
This electro woman was very flirty and cheeky, she was pretty and strong.
You had no right, though.
She is about to hurt Miguel but you make her hand shoot some bright electricity into the air.
Both turn to look at you.
“A telepathic spider? That’s new…” Lighting says sarcastically.
“…y/n” Miguel calls.
The red-haired woman smirks looking at Miguel.
“Looks like you have a new little girlfriend” Miguel feels angered, and she pushes her further into the wall, making her laugh.
“Oh no, I’ve been replaced” you cringe. But an uncomfortable feeling sets in your stomach.
“You’ve never been an option” Miguel eyes you, and you don’t know how to feel about the whole action.
The woman seems angered, and before she can attack him again, you make some of the lobes of her brain freeze.
She falls on her knees and covers her eyes.
Miguel looks shocked. He knows you’re doing something, but he hurries to handcuff her.
“I’m sending her to the HQ” You nod at him.
Miguel opens a portal and pushes her to the HQ.
“…y/n” he calls you once the portal closes again.
You have the feeling that he’s gonna tell you something about the woman. Like he wanted to explain who she was.
You didn’t want to hear. Even if it meant Miguel could possibly like you.
You look to your right, to the skyscrapers. You can hear some people screaming. Probably scared of the bridge that was about to fall.
Your excuse.
You don’t even look at Miguel, you swing away.
He sighs, hands on his hips.
At that moment, two statements were made.
I have no right to be jealous, but I think I like him; you thought.
I don’t like how this feels, but I think I’m falling for her.
…
The heels in your boots end up making everyone turn to look at you at the HQ. Some bad looks, some impressed.
However, most are bad looks.
“Good morning, y/n. How are you?” Lyla pops out of nowhere. You smile at her.
“I’m good. How is everything doing?”
“Uhm…”
“Lyla?” You ask, growing worried.
“The night Lightning attacked the people from the bridge. They demand Spider-Man 2099 to leave the city.
You gasp in horror.
“I need to see Miguel” Somehow you end up jogging towards his office.
Cautiously, you enter the dark room.
Miguel is focused on his screens. His platform is lower than usual. And his back is facing you.
“Miguel…” you greet and call him.
He doesn’t flinch. You can feel how angry he was. His shoulders were slightly hunched, the way he breathed telling you how hard he was trying to remain calm.
Because of you.
You wanted to think this ability to sense emotions wasn’t always accurate. Because the way Miguel felt indicated that he might like you.
“We’re gonna fix this…”
“How?” He abruptly turns around. You are startled by his red eyes, his talons evident. And somehow he looked even taller.
“You can’t help me, y/n. And I’m not going to get you in any trouble” your heart swells. Beyond his anger, you can see softness. Miguel looks at the edge of being pouty.
It gets confusing. Is it just a crush or are you falling in love?.
“It’s over. Lightning was an annoying recurrent figure in Nueva York, she was plotting with Sinister Six from your Earth to bring back another spot. The civilians are tired, they don’t want any spiders anymore. It’s over, y/n” You shake your head, getting close to him.
That strange feeling invades his arms, chest, and stomach. Only that it’s not strange anymore. Miguel knows the feeling only appears whenever you’re around. It’s his heart telling him that his growing in love with you.
You take his hands. And when he tries to flinch again, you stop him, squeezing his hands tighter.
“No. Listen to me. The last vision I had, was about this. I’m not leaving you alone” he wonders if the vision said something about you two being together. Then he regretted it, thinking he was being too reckless and going further. Even if they were only thoughts in his head.
“Why? Why are you doing this?” You want to say you’re falling in love with him. That you never felt so attached to anyone. That you wanted him to be okay because you cared for him despite barely knowing him.
You don’t. Not entirely…
“Call me crazy, but back home, I don’t have anyone. And after the vision of the spot and the chaos. I feel so attached to you” Ever since Gabriella, Miguel hadn’t been emotional. He blocked his feelings, but you come and say you feel closer to him.
“I know that feeling” you offer him a brief smile.
Trying to hide your disappointment. You didn’t expect him to confess his love for you. But you hoped he would say more.
Still, his talons disappeared. His red eyes returned to the usual dark and warm brown.
By the way, he’s also attached to you now.
“Lyla?” You call the AI. She appears and smiles at you.
“Yes, y/n?”
“Could you please call a press conference?” Miguel’s eyes widen.
It had been years since he was involved in a press conference. The last time he was in one, was before becoming Spider-Man. When he had a full-time job at Alchemax.
“You’ll see what I’m capable of…” he’s smitten. He’s fully attracted to you know. But he’s so afraid of losing you. He knew that when he fell for a woman, he loved hard. Literally, only death could break the love spell in him. And yet, he sweetly remembered his first love, his late wife and Gabriella.
Once again, he didn’t like the feeling.
…
Being Spider-Man is a responsibility. We are aware of the dangers it comes with. However, behind the masks, we are humans. And behind the mask of the Spider-Man of this city, there’s a good man. A man with a warm heart who had always thought about the people, even if it meant putting himself in second place. You blame the only person that decides to sacrifice to ensure your security. You call him a danger for fighting the danger he doesn’t plan. You say his a bad person, but I dare you to spend a year without a hero. I won’t minimize what the police department and other branches do. But you’ll need someone bigger. All of you know it’s true.
All of you are in your right to not like the Spider-Man from your city. But you have to accept making him your enemy when he’s the first one to help you, will not take you anywhere. He built a place for spiders to help and keep everyone safe. The least you can do is respect him. And thank him that we can help you. Next time, that bridge might fall, and all the people on it, they’ll collapse.
Any questions?
Jess and Lyla were hearing your speech in Miguel’s office. Lyla is smiling like a Cheshire Cat, and Jess smirks.
“Yup, she ate,” Jess said with her arms crossed.
“Look at the way she smiles at Miguel. I’m dying” Lyla fan girls over the screen that shows you and him. Flashes are evident, the NYPD logo in the back, the American flag, and the microphone cover the image.
In the footage, questions can be heard.
How many spiders work in the base our Spider-Man built? Is there a multiverse? Are you Spider-Man’s wife?
Miguel only knew one thing.
You fulfilled your promise. People apologized, but the HQ remained secret despite Nueva York knowing Miguel had founded a group at least.
“She made it” Jess added, standing beside Miguel.
“Did she say something else?” The man did not like the tone her friend opted for. Playful and nosy.
“About what?”
“ I don’t know. Y/n seems like a good girl” Lyla also added.
“Jessica” the woman knew she had to hush.
“I’m just saying. She’s linked to the web of life and destiny. What could be wrong?”
“And, she just cleared your image the society’s”
“Lyla shut up.” Miguel pleaded.
“Don’t you think so?”
“That’s exactly the problem, Jess. I don’t want to find out what could possibly go wrong” For the first time, indirectly, Miguel accepted he had feelings for you.
“Aha, Jess!. Miguel just admitted he likes y/n” Both Jess and Miguel glare at Lyla.
“Miguel. You can’t keep living like this. Believe me, it’s not gonna happen again” he knew he was closer to leaving his past behind. But your image and the feelings he had for you made him remember everything.
“I don’t know, Jess.”
Oh, he knew.
…
Gwen Stacy almost burned the apartment when she heard you scream. She threw a napkin to the stove, setting it on fire. But quickly throwing the burned piece to the sink.
She ran to your bedroom, only to find a nail polish glass shattered on your floor, the scarlet red making it look like blood.
The smell was intense and you were cursing.
Gwen had to laugh.
“You killed someone”
“I killed my look” you pointed at the top and skirt on your bed. Gwen arched an eyebrow.
“Who are you trying to impress?”
“Miguel. But I know I look hot in it. It’s not entirely because of him” the girl nodded.
She knew you liked Miguel.
And while the blonde had seen some changes in the grumpy man, she also knew you were experiencing different things with him.
“I can’t picture this. You having a date with him”
“It’s not a date” you state.
“Really? Fancy restaurant, HE asked you out, the outfit, and that lipstick!. You can’t trick me” you roll your eyes. But you love having her as a roomie.
Miguel approved her to live with you. With the condition to not cause any disturbance in your earth.
She followed the rules very well.
“If you’re not here in the morning, I’ll tell your parents” Gwen was trying to be serious, but you laughed, cleaning the nail polish mess with her.
“I can legally drink, Gwen. And if I don’t come home, I’m in good hands” Gwen pretends to be vomiting.
“The nail polish couldn’t make me puke, but your comment and whatever implying sure did” You can’t stop laughing.
She takes the glasses away and you can finally enter the shower.
…
He never learned.
Miguel was at the edge of being tipsy. That never happened.
But he offered a dinner to you.
Three weeks after the press conference, he had spent so much time with you.
In his office, in the HQ cafeteria, the rooftop of his apartment. Hours and hours of talking, eating together, even laughing.
“I’ll get the squash blossom and a tlayuda. What about you, Miguel?” You pull him out of his thoughts. He smiles at you and glances quickly at the menu.
“I want the Oaxacan fondue and the tasajo, well-cooked term” The waitress takes the order and disappears.
“We can share” he adds, making your smile grow as you nod.
He had to like you back. The things you’ve shared together. Friends don’t do that.
Miguel O’Hara didn’t make friends to begin with, this had to be love.
You had this aquamarine top full of sequins, a long denim squirt, and green shimmery heels. You wanted him to take the clothes away.
You weren’t rushing, after a whole month and a half of reuniting with him, you couldn’t deny your desires. At least they came after realizing you were in love with him.
“You look very pretty” Your cheeks turn red, and he giggles noticing it.
“Thanks. Don’t expect me to say the same, you always look gorgeous”
Shameless flirting, oh, you two had lost it.
As you eat your food, you can see his hungry eyes.
The first time you sensed he was having a lewd thought about you was some days ago. When his hands ended on your hips. You thought about it too. You wished he gripped them harder.
As the food finishes and the drinks too, your leg brushes his. Your shoulder brushes his and in a hazy moment. You kiss him, passionately.
He can’t run away. He knows he loves you. He is tipsy, and he also wants to kiss you so badly.
So he makes you happy by grabbing your hips again, harder like he didn’t know you wanted.
“Please, take me to bed” he nods between kisses. And he thinks the restaurant is dark, enough to drag the attention away.
He pays the check against your insistence of paying half of it. But Miguel makes you shut up with another deep kiss.
His lips were softer than you imagined, and his hands were bigger than you could ever thought.
And in the first alley, he opens a portal straight to his bedroom. Not even the entrance of his place.
You can’t believe what happens.
You don’t even remember when he took off your clothes and laid you in the middle of his giant bed.
“You’re so gorgeous,” you say moving your hands across his strong six-pack. His core was so tight that you think it’s impossible.
“But look at you, muñeca. I’m so lucky…” he says kissing your lower belly.
You know what’s coming. You’re desperate, eager for him to reach your wet folds with his lips and tongue.
“Oh-, ah…Miguel!” You moan arching your back, the intrusion of his tongue making feel you so desirable.
“You like it, Nena?” You nod moaning. Hands pinching your own nipples, eyes focused on the city at your right. Through the window, your eyes focused on the bright lights.
“Yes, yes. Oh-, fuck…” his tongue circled your clit, making you squirm everything the hood of it was uncovered. A lot was happening that night.
“Miguel!, Too much!”
“Too much, mami? We’re just starting…” how he dare? To be that hoot and sweet at the same time.
“No. Fuck me, please” you plead, massaging his scalp, making him even harder. His cock was at the edge of feeling painful, the head leaking more than ever.
“You think you’re ready to take me?” The sight is glorious, his hair disheveled, mouth shining thanks to you.
“I’m a big girl. Don’t stop even if I cry” he felt nasty, but he was about to have you.
“Good. Now spread those legs for me…” You slowly do it, teasing him. Miguel lost it when he saw you throb around nothing.
Maybe it was the alcohol, or the love, but even the pain was pleasure.
He ripped you open, but it only made you wetter.
He kissed your tears away. And promised to make you see stars.
Miguel was so down for you, that he accidentally said it.
“Fuck, I love you” you were so lost in the pleasure. His tip is to give your cervix the massage you ever asked for. The veins covering his cock draw patterns across your warm walls.
“Ah-, I love you too, Miguel” He almost stopped fucking you.
Miguel fought the tears as he concentrated on the pleasure.
He quickly got lost in your increasing moans. Your face of pleasure was enough.
And as if it was for the attachment you mentioned weeks ago, both of you reached the biggest orgasm.
A panting mess, but he caught you in his arms. He kissed your forehead and held you the whole night.
…
The first seconds of the morning, you don’t know where are you. But then, you feel a massive body beside you, Miguel.
His room is so boring. It’s grey, and most of the furniture is darker. Only some perfumes and candles stand out in bright colors.
You smile fondly. Instantly remembering the night before.
He treated you so well, and he said he loved you.
“Good morning,” you say once he starts opening his eyes.
Regret floods him.
‘Hey…’ he greets you.
He gave in, he had everything under control. But then you came with that stupid sequin top. And your perfume smelled so damn well. Then your eyes gave him that look. So he lost.
Miguel couldn’t love you. Because that meant you would suffer. One way or another, even if it was unsure.
Even when the annoying voice of Lyla replayed in his head, saying that he deserved someone like you.
“This shouldn’t have happened,” he said, hoarse voice stumbling across the room. He stands up, his naked upper body appearing in your sight.
“What?” You ask confused, panic building up. As you prepare for the worst. Failing…
“This was a mistake”
“No. Stop it…” you say sitting up, covering your chest with the sheets.
“Y/n…”
“Stop pushing me away!. All these weeks we’ve had amazing times, but you keep avoiding it. You’re not gonna lose me” you plead, touching his shoulder.
“I think it’s better to keep some distance” tears start forming. You swallow the lump.
“You said you loved me” you try, your last hope.
‘I was drunk. I don’t love you, I was just lucky to end up having you in my bed. Like I could have ended up having anyone else” you sob, he closes his eyes, swallowing his lies and trying to ignore the pain in his chest.
You were right, he was pushing you away.
“If you are so afraid of repeating your errors, you could have said it straight to my face. No need to be a fucking asshole and imply I’m a whore” you say, hurrying up to get out of the bed.
“That’s not what I meant. It’s-“
“You can lie to yourself. But not to me. Appreciate me one last time, because you’ll never see me like this again” The venom in your voice panics him.
You stare at him, naked, crying, and realizing all you did for him, meant nothing. You could feel how much he loved you. The ability to sense his emotions. But you would never force him to do anything.
“I came back to help you because I had a vision. Of you being hated, the HQ crumbling. But I would save you. And we would end up together.” It takes him aback.
As you activate your suit, his gizmo beeps. The alarm of an anomaly.
Six anomalies in your earth.
“Wait, y/n” Miguel pleads. To prevent you from fighting without notice, and to know more about your vision.
He believed in the thing you saw. Maybe your visions were even more powerful than canon.
But before he could grab your hand. You disappeared.
“Mierda…” he said, activating his suit too and heading towards the HQ.
…
The HQ seemed fine. As Miguel paced to learn more about the anomalies in your earth.
Only that everyone was reading some newspaper.
El mañanero is the most famous newspaper in Nueva York.
Headliner? Local Spider-Man has a Spider-Woman lover?
A picture of you and him in your suits. A picture someone likely took in disguise as you two had a patrol.
Miguel barely pays attention as he feels even more stressed.
He knows you are so strong, but he worries as there are six anomalies at the same time. Which could be attacking you at the same time.
“Lyla?” He calls her desperately.
“Yes, I know. There are a bunch of anomalies with y/n. I called you”
“Is she okay?”
“Let me check, but what are you doing here?” Miguel rolled his eyes.
“I need to locate the anomalies. And call for backup”
“Since it’s y/n. Everyone is available. They’re coming…” Suddenly, Peter, Mayday who was learning to walk now, Pavitr, Gwen, Miles, Penni, Noir, Jess, and Ben appeared.
“How the hell did the sinister six decide to attack y/n’s earth today?” Jess revealed the enemy and complained. A mission on Saturday morning, how annoying.
“Looks like Lightning finished her deal with them” Peter was the one who discovered the female electro for the first time. And he knew the woman constantly allied with them.
“What do we do?” Noir asks Miguel.
“Split into two groups. We don’t know which variants they are. And-…”
“Miguel?” Lyla interrupts. He only stares.
“I checked y/n’s suit vital signs. Slow blood pressure and high heartbeats. She’s not okay…” Miguel felt like he couldn’t breathe. And he didn’t think twice, he only repeated to the group to split, as he was the first one to leave.
…
Your New York was a chaos. The usual anomaly mess.
Jess, Noir, and Peter were fighting Kraven and Vulture, and Miles and Pavitr were focused on Mysterio. While near the waters, Penni and Miles were about to finish Sandman. With the help of Ben, Miguel had just finished with Doctor Octopus.
Because his head was distracted by the thought of you. He wonders how fast were you weakening. As you stated before that trying new abilities with your mind left you very tired.
He also worried that his words in the morning were making you fight worse. All those insecurities only grew as time passed and he wasn’t next to you yet.
Gwen was nowhere to be found. Until she appeared on Miguel’s gizmo.
“Miguel, I found her. Sixth Avenue, she’s fighting Electro. Hurry up!” Unbeknownst to him, Gwen had sneaked away from the fight to find you.
And to everyone’s unawareness, Gwen was highly worried about you. You were the first one to offer him a home after Miguel sent her home when all the problems with Miles started.
It was an issue once he discovered it. But you as the sweetest woman she ever met, made Miguel change his mind.
You were her role model, an older sister who stood up for her when no one did.
And now she feared losing you like she did with Peter. Now she had her dad back, but it would never take away what you did for her.
Electro had no mercy. Some of the electricity hitting you. The blonde girl balanced from a lamppost faster to reach you.
She abruptly stopped once she analyzed what you were doing. Something with your mind. Because you weren’t moving.
And like an invisible force protected you, it also weakened the villain.
As soon as Electro fell to the ground. Your web broke and you fell, unconscious.
Gwen gasped in horror, jumping to prevent you from dying.
Time seemed to pass like a flash. Gwen’s heart beat so fast that she was sweating as her hand was already positioned to catch you in the air.
Once her hands touched your body, Gwen knew she made it. She pulled you to her chest and balanced with you. Until she placed you on the grass in some secluded area of the park.
“No, no, no. Y/n…” Gwen was near the tears. She quickly searched for your pulse. And after confirming you were breathing, she felt less worried. But very stressed.
“Please. Be strong…” she said.
That’s when Miguel found you.
His mask immediately disintegrated to inspect you.
“She’s alive” Gwen soothes him. Give him some space to hold you.
“What happened?”
“She finished Electro with her mind. She must’ve passed out from the exertion. But I see she has bruises and her leg is extremely tense” the girl explained, with a broken voice.
“She’s gonna be fine, kid. I promise” Miguel knew how important you were to Gwen. He also had to be an adult and remain calm.
Even if deep down he was just as broken as Gwen after seeing your face with blood, bruises, and a weak appearance.
“Tell Miles and Penni to catch Electro” Gwen wiped her watery eyes and nodded. Giving you one last look, she shot a web and left.
“Lyla. Please scan her…” The AI appeared and applied some blue scans all over your body.
“Low oxygen levels and blood pressure, left leg is sprained, two ribs are swollen. Aside from that, she’s stable. We need to take her to the HQ” Miguel nodded, quickly turning off Lyla.
Miguel inspected you. And he smiled.
“I’ll never push you away again. Never…” he promised, carrying you in his arms before he opened a new portal.
…
You violently squirm once you move after opening your eyes.
Panic invades you as you don’t remember what happened.
“Hey. It’s okay…” you hear a voice. As soon you turn you see Miguel.
You’re in your bed. Distant voices can be heard.
“I don’t know what happened?” you ask, slowly sitting against the headboard. Ever the gentleman he is, Miguel pulls a bunch of pillows behind your back.
“The Sinister Six from your earth,” Miguel says. He remains looking at you, arms crossed and surprisingly he’s in normal clothes.
“Whatever you did to Electro, nearly killed him and it exhausted you. We took you to the HQ. You slept for a day and then we brought you home” You nod. A lot of questions still floating in your head.
You are mad at him, but how long?
“Do you know why they attacked?” Miguel nods.
“What Lightning from my earth said. They wanted to bring back a variant of The Spot” your stomach churns, and your cheeks heat in embarrassment.
“Are you hungry? Gwen invited everyone. I said she should let you rest. But she insisted you’d like to wake up with everyone here” he likes how you start smiling.
“She’s right.” Your hair is disheveled, lazy eyes and smile make you look adorable. Miguel wants to squeeze your cheeks and kiss you softly.
And he realizes that he had hurt you when all you wanted was to make him see the truth.
“If you let me. I’ll never push you away again, y/n” The subject change takes you by surprise.
“I felt so attached to you too. From the moment you appeared out of nowhere and changed my path,” you don’t say anything.
“Maybe I already loved you when you came back the second time. Every moment with you is comforting. You helped me, even if you didn’t owe me anything” his words are taking you on a curve. Hearing him open his heart would leave you a mess of tears.
“And that night. You appeared to that restaurant looking so fucking beautiful. You kissed me and I knew I had already won. I meant it when I said I love you.” his voice is smooth, you sense the honesty. He sits at the edge of your mattress, beside you.
“The only reason why I said those awful things was because I thought that would push you away enough to stay away from a mistake like me. And all the chaos I bring whenever I go” he explains, asking permission to hold your hand. His long fingers play with your knuckles, and it comforts him more than ever.
“You are not a mistake. You are so brave and strong. You kept going after all the horrible things that happened to you. And you dared to fall in love with me. Why would you push me away? When I know we’re meant to be together” silence fills the room. It’s only you crying in silence and Miguel in your chest.
“Can you forgive and give me another chance?” You nod, pulling him closer to kiss him.
“Yes. But you should know I want a loyal, loving, honest, and devoted partner”
“Ay, querida. Right now I only have eyes for a woman, and that’s you. And I know as long as you’re alive, my feelings will remain the same” he accepts another kiss.
“Now let me get ready to have a nice dinner with our friends” Miguel had come to accept the bunch of spiders in your place, where his friends were too. They made you happy, and they cared for him.
“You should rest” Miguel warned you as he saw you jumó out of bed.
“You had a sprained leg and two injured ribs, y/n” you shrug, taking a dress out of your closet.
“I feel amazing. And I’m just taking a shower. You can sit in the toilet and wait for me” Miguel changed his demeanor. He had time to smirk and feel cheeky about it.
“I thought you said I’ll never see you naked again” You roll your eyes.
“We can still do that” Miguel hurried to get inside the bathroom and patiently sat on the toilet. He looked like a giant among your cosmetics, shampoos, and colorful towels.
“I oppose,” he says making you laugh. With his help, he removes the bandages on your leg and helps you get inside the shower.
You like that the makeup was fast, and straight to the point. You two were compromised to work for a future together.
You were okay with it.
…
Penni is the first person to hug you once you enter the backyard of the apartment.
Then Margo who you hadn’t seen in weeks but Gwen moved her to hold you tightly.
“I was so worried. And I hope you don’t mind this little party. I thought you would want to be surrounded by friends and-“
“Gwen, it’s perfect. Thank you” You soothe her anxiety hugging her back.
But you start laughing when you spot Peter and Pavitr on the grill, cooking some steak and vegetables.
“Really? I was passed out and you two are grilling?”
“But it’s for you…” Peter defends himself. You laugh, a squeak of excitement filling the backyard when Noir hands you not-so-baby Mayday.
“Mayday, my big baby!” She coos and says random words.
“Baby…” she says holding her doll.
“Yeah, it’s a baby” you confirm giggling.
During the whole interaction, Miguel is behind you holding your hips. In his defense, he didn’t want you to apply much pressure with your post-injured leg.
Mayday places the baby in your lower belly, cooing.
“Baby” the little girl repeats. You blush and Miguel looks awkwardly.
“Oh…” you manage to say.
“Little girl is implying something” Jess intervenes, laughing teasingly.
“Not yet, Jess” Miguel says.
“Not yet?” Your shocked tone makes him laugh while he rubs your back.
“That’s what usually happens when you plan on marrying someone” he whispers in your ear and your cheeks could explode from how red they were.
“There’s a baby in my arms, O’Hara” Mayday seemed to preoccupied with throwing webs at the sky. However, you just wanted to mess with Miguel. You let Mayday walk around the grass, and soon Miles goes after her.
“Hopefully one in your belly soon” you almost choke.
“You’re so annoying. Who would’ve thought?” He hears your stomach churn again as soon the steak smell fills the air.
He shrugs proudly.
“What do you say then? We can disappear for a couple of months to have some time together. Would you marry me?” Neither of you knew what had possessed Miguel to be so chill and open. He meant it. He wanted to call you his wife. Put a ringer on your finger, wear your initials on his neck, and make you the mother of his children.
“Would you cut the steak in strips for me?” He couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Yes, I can do that for you, y/n”
“Then yes. I’ll marry you.” He kisses you without shame. Nobody notices though.
You take a seat on the little patio furniture and you breathe.
Everyone is happy. You look at Miguel, who’s with Peter and Pavitr on the grill, they’re talking and the others are scattered doing random things.
But you look at him. You would do anything for him, you could forgive him because he would never intentionally hurt you. You could hate everything and everyone, but him.
_____________________________________________
Taglist: @rachelm1418 @chiikasevennn @sarapaprikas-blog @johfaam @viriexo @homewreckingwreck @nirvanaaaonly @pigeonmama
#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel spiderman#miguel o’hara x y/n#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o’hara imagine#miguel o'hara#atsv miguel#across the spiderverse#spiderman atsv#miguel spiderverse#oscar issac x reader
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I stand by what I said- the ending with Karlach DOES need reworking. You can adore someone's work and also go "that part was not ideal."
My criticism towards the IGN interview could not POSSIBLY MORE CLEARLY have been directed at the higher-ups and how they felt Halsin should have nothing more to do after breaking the Shadow Curse, as opposed to John who very clearly loves Halsin and very likely wanted to do more with him than that, if his updates to Halsin (like the platonic confession scene) are any indication. (The higher-ups also ignored what John DID write for Halsin besides Halsin hating the city, which was insulting to his hard work, IMHO)
ALSO, the "something went terribly wrong in the writer's room" quote (which let me say, I don't know whether to be creeped out or flattered that you can quote my posts verbatim) was SPECIFICALLY about writing Orin to target the lowest approval companion (something John had NO part in), which resulted in many players feeling no rush to get the kidnapped companion back- I specifically said it was a failure of writing for the kidnapping story. Again, John's only part of the kidnapping arc was writing Orin-as-Halsin's behavior, and THAT is something I've had nothing but praise for.
You do realize, right, that more than one thing can be possible at once? Like, you really and truly realize that you don't have to like EVERY writing decision made when you love someone's writing, and conversely, that disliking a few decisions DOESN'T mean you don't like/respect the writer at all? Isaac Asimov is my favorite writer of all time, but a few of his short stories were, in my opinion, real stinkers. That doesn't mean I don't love Isaac Asimov!!! It means that writers are human and make human mistakes when writing.
This ask was not just creepy and rude, it was downright wrong and operated on a child's understanding of criticism. I adore Halsin's writer and the work he did on Halsin. On this site, where he presumably can't see anything I write so it can't be "sycophancy", I still have spoken about how well-written Halsin's traumas and anxieties are, how compassionate and sweet he is, how there's so many brilliant character beats. It sounds to me like this ask is motivated by two things: you are jealous that I've corresponded with him on Twitter and you haven't, and you are angry that I criticized a few aspects of Halsin's arc/character which you feel makes me a "fake fan". (Either that, OR you're someone who hates Halsin's character/John's writing for hin, and is angry I don't hate those things.)
In any case, enjoy your block, get well soon, and stop being weird with random Tumblr users. (Also, "a piece of bread to a hungry homeless person" is a really bad metaphor. Who the fuck gives a homeless person a single piece of bread? Like are you just carrying around a baguette in your car in case you encounter a homeless person on the street corner?!)
#halsin#halsin silverbough#bg3#baldur's gate 3#don't usually tag this kind of thing but i want it visible just in case anyone DID get the impression i like... don't actually like#his writer or something like that from my critical posts#i always have loved how halsin was written. just. that doesn't mean loving EVERY decision........#anyway
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John Wick Chapter 4 (John Wick x Female!Reader)
With the price on his head ever increasing, legendary hit man John Wick and his wife, (y/n), take their fight against the High Table global as they seek out the most powerful players in the underworld, from New York to Paris to Japan to Berlin.
Chapter 1: Death Is The Only Freedom
JW 1 Masterlist
JW 2 Masterlist
JW 3 Masterlist
JW 4 Masterlist
"I am the way into the city of woe. I am the way into eternal pain." The Bowery King recites as he walks along the alley and down a subway tunnel to a underground hideout. "I am the way to go among the lost! Before me there were no created things! But those that last forever! As do I! Abandon all hope, you who are about to. You are now in the presence of the fucking king!" He yells as he enters the hideout and laughs.
Meanwhile, as he was going on his speech, John Wick and his wife, (y/n), were practicing on their punches. John was punching a tall board with a bloody rope around it, from all his punches he threw at it, and (y/n) was using a punching bag. As she punched it, she was letting out every aggression, every anger, every frustration out on the bag. The death of her sister, being kidnapped, getting shot at, getting beat up, losing their home.
It was only six months ago when you and John were just a happy married couple, excited for what the future held. But the way everything went, it feels like a lifetime ago; how the hell would (y/n) ever go back to being normal after knowing all of this and everything that has happened, assuming that her and John will get out of this alive.
The Bowery King comes up to a barrel and lights it on fire, which then spreads to form a pentagon shape around the floor John and (y/n) were on as they kept punching their respective items. "You and your wife ready, John?" The Bowery King asked as he holds up a couple of suits hanging on a coat rack with one hand.
John and (y/n) stop what they were doing and both of then turn to face him. "Yeah." John replied while his wife just nodded and the Bowery King chuckles.
At the desert, as the sun was rising, four horseback riders were charging across the sandy area, three turban clad men were on three white horses while one black horse carried John and (y/n). Both of them had guns. They fired a few shots at the men and eventually John killed one as he fell off of his horse.
Off in the distance, the Elder could see and he knew it was only a matter of moments before John Wick would make his way to him.
As the chase continues, (y/n) was able to kill the second man and John got the last man before they stopped. They dismount their horse as they come up to The Elder, who had a small camp set up. "Mr and Mrs Wick." The Elder greets at the couple as they walk up to him.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" The Elder asked, calmly. Then John and (y/n) kneel down on one knee as John speaks. "My freedom." He said and the Elder looks him and (y/n) over. "If you came here thinking you could be free, or end this, by killing me, then you are mistaken." The Elder said and (y/n) frowns while John turns his head away in disappointment.
"My death will not change the outcome any more than you can change your nature. None of us can escape who we are, and no one escapes the Table. And the only way John Wick will ever have freedom or peace, now or ever, is in death." The Elder said and John looks back at him. "I know." He said and the Elder shakes his head then stands up.
"I'm afraid you and your wife have come a very long way for nothing." The Elder said. "Yeah..." John said and he and (y/n) stands up. "...not really." He said then he gives a nod towards (y/n) and she raises her gun and fires it, killing The Elder point blank. The couple glare at the man's body as it flops back then she holsters her gun. They turn and start to head back on the horse and figure out their next move.
Meanwhile, back in New York at the Continental, Winston was informed by the Harbinger that the Continental was condemned by the Marquis, which was signed by the twelve members of the Table. The Harbinger then informed Winston that the Marquis was waiting for him and that the hotel must be evacuated in one hour, so Winston and Charon made their way to the Marquis office.
"Ned Kelly's final words as the hangman slipped the noose around his neck were Such is life. Such is life, can you imagine the acceptance, the defiance?" Winston asked Charon as they walked the hallway to the front desk of the Marquis' office. "Today is not the day you will die. Of that, I am sure." Charon said as they stop at the front desk and Winston turns to his old friend.
"You have the unshakable faith of David, my friend, but you shouldn't be here. This will not be pleasant." Winston said. "Such is life, sir." Charon said and Winston gives him an impressed look right as a man comes up to them and leads them into the large office of the Marquis.
"My father used to say, How you do anything is how you do everything. Called it the first and the last rule of life." The Marquis said as he has his back to Winston and looks out at the city of New York through his large window.
"You believe in rules...Mr Manager?" The Marquis asked as he turns to Winston. "Oh, I do." Winston said, firmly. "And what of consequences?" The Marquis asked. "Of course. And second chances." Winston replied. "Ah. That's where we differ, you and I." The Marquis said as he gestures between him and Winston, who kept looking over at the hour glass on the Marquis' desk as the sand on the top kept getting smaller and smaller.
"Second chances at the refuge of men who fail." The Marquis said and he goes over to his desk and started to put sugar in his tea, then once he was done with that, puts the spoon in his mouth to wipe off any remnants of sugar and tea. He pulls the spoon out of his mouth while Winston fidgets a bit in place, he didn't want to show it but he was getting nervous and it was getting worse the longer this went on.
"There are those on the Table who blame this, um, atrocity on New York. They believe it's this city. The Table has indulged this fucking place for too long. And look where that has gotten us." The Marquis said then he takes a sip of his tea. "I shot him." Winston said and the Marquis chuckles as he sets his cup of tea down. "And yet he lives, polluting everything he touches. Especially, with the help of his wife, who you did not take care of." The Marquis said as he gets a stern look on his face and starts to walk around his desk.
"Marquis, respectfully, my hotel..." Winston started to argue. "Your hotel?" The Marquis said, stunned, and Winston closes his mouth. "If I might, sir?" Charon asked and the Marquis looks at him, surprised. "By all means." He said and Charon takes a step forward. "The Continentals and their management are a reminder to all who still behind The Table, that none of us are above the rules." Charon said.
"And yet we are here." Marquis said. "Sir, Mr Wick..." Charon said but the Marquis starts to grow angry. "We're not here because of John Wick and his wife. He is simply the face of your failure, Mr Manager." Marquis said as he glares over at Winston then he walks over to his desk.
"The sand in that glass is merely an echo of my remaining patience." Marquis said, as he gestures to the hourglass, and Winston looks over at it just in time to see the sand spills out the remaining grain until it was gone.
Once that happened, they felt the ground shake and a loud booming noise. The Continental had been destroyed. Winston and Charon watch on in horror as Marquis turns to them. "You are no longer New York." He said and Winston balls up his fist. "You are nothing. You are Excommunicado." Marquis said, with a hard glare at Winston, as he walks up to him.
"And as such..." he said as he pulls out his gun and aims it at Winston. "...you no longer need the services of a concierge." He said then he aims the gun at Charon and shoots him in the chest.
Charon's eyes grow wide as he falls back and the Marquis holsters his gun. Winston stared at Charon in shock as the Marquis walks up to Winston, stops and glares at him for a moment then walks a few steps before stopping and looks over his shoulder. Winston goes over to Charon, kneels down next to him and takes his hand in his as blood was seeping out on the floor.
"It has been an honor, my friend." Charon said as he dies. "It should have been me." Winston said, shakily. "Yes. But it wasn't." Marquis said and Winston looks up at him. "Now, you think about why that is,and perhaps one of us will have benefited from this conversation." Marquis said and he and his right hand man walk out of the office.
"Bring me Caine." The Marquis tells his right hand man in French before they split off.
In Japan, after talking to his daughter about his schedule, how the other Continentals are feeling about what happened in New York and the fear that the High Table will come after him next, Shimazu walks through the kitchen of his hotel and comes up to two large guards. "Don't let anyone in." He tells them and they let him through to an outside area where two figures were standing off in the distance.
"I assume you are finally at peace." He asked John Wick. John looks over at his wife, who was looking down at the ground with her arms folded, before he looks over at Shimazu. "Apparently not." He said as (y/n) also turns to face him. "Killing the Elder was a mistake, my friend." Shimazu said and he gestures over to a table that had some food.
"Their response was the destruction of the New York Continental. My daughter fears we are next." Shimazu said as he walks over to the table and (y/n) gasps at this news. "Winston?" John questioned, concerned, as he and (y/n) walk over to the table. "Alive, but they executed his concierge to prove a point." Shimazu said.
"No..." (y/n) whispered, in soft despair, while John looks down in guilt. They sit down as Shimazu pours them a cup of tea. "Have you given any thought to where this ends?" Shimazu asked John, who doesn't reply, and (y/n) looks over at her husband, with worry.
"The Table will never stop. You know this. It only takes life and only gives death." Shimazu said as he pushes two cups of tea to the couple and sits down across from them. "Koji...For troubling you like this....I'm sorry." John said as he looks up at his friend. "Friendship means little when it's convenient." Shimazu said and the three raise their glass and they sip their tea, not knowing that trouble was coming to their door.
#fandom#fanfic#fan fiction#reader insert#x reader#john wick x reader#john wick fanfic#john wick imagine#john wick x you#john wick#john wick 4#john wick chapter 4#keanu reeves#movie fan fiction#fan fic writing
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Sunflower, Book 1, Chapter 22
Tom Hiddleston x OFC
Series rated: M
Chapter warnings: Mentions of sexual assault, allusions to attempted sexual assault, mentions of physical assault and Las Vegas' mafia past. Our flashback includes more discussion of condoms (wrap it before you tap it kids!) and some light shaft handling. Drunk sexual contact, please remember kids consent is murky at best when you're this intoxicated!
AN: Oh, and as a side note- fuck you to the rude anon in my inbox. That's all the attention I'm giving you *right now*. Posted early because fuck it, I've got my shit together this week! (I don't but I got *this* together at least)
Masterlist Kofi AO3
~~~~~<3
Tom hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the kiss they shared. They hadn’t done anything else, just a series of searingly hot kisses that left him desperate for more but terrified to even suggest it followed by painful awkwardness that twisted at his guts.
Mia had slept most of Thursday before she had to get to work, exhaustion paired with a melatonin pill ensured she had a quick fall to dreamland. He had felt like a fool hovering nearby, fluttering in and out of the room for no reason other than to make sure she was still there. It was illogical, she couldn’t leave without walking through the living space where he was spending the time with Sally. It wasn’t like she was going to disappear into thin air.
Never in his life was he so unsure how to say ‘good bye’ to someone when the time came though. His arms felt awkward as he wrapped her in them at the door, desperate to know if he had woken her during any of his trips into the room but terrified to ask. He wanted to kiss her goodbye as she lingered in his arms, looking up at him with a sweet smile but he didn’t.
Coward. Yep, he was being a coward. He just needed a little more time to pull himself back together.
Tom had texted Mia throughout the night, checking that most of his plans for Sally’s birthday were alright. He made a few calls and found a bakery that was able to make a small birthday cake in time. It cost extra to have it delivered in a cooler to keep it from melting in the desert heat but he didn’t care. The rest of his plans fell into place, one confirmation after the other, most approved in concept at least by Mia.
Ashley had to work and wouldn’t be able to make tomorrow’s birthday party but stopped by earlier to drop off a few wrapped gifts. She had made it very clear that she still was unsure about Tom’s presence in their lives but this time went a little better.
Sally eager to show off her new bear which helped. Ashley took her time as Tom made the child’s lunch to listen to everything she had been doing with her New Friend Tommy. They had played games together. Tom had been crowned as a certified Master of Pretend.
Tom couldn’t fault Ashley’s weariness even after Sally’s tales. She had every reason to question him, though she did swing from hot to cold from what Mia had said. On one hand, she would scream for Mia to ‘get it’ and on the other hand, she was ready to stab Tom’s eyes out in a heartbeat if he crossed a line in her eyes.
He could understand it though, he’d do the same for his sisters.
~~~~~<3
Mia pulled into her parking spot at half past three in the morning. In the residential areas, the city fell into a peaceful sleep at night just as any other. Stepping out of the car, the day’s heat radiated up off the pavement, balanced by the ever so slight cool breeze the air carried. It had cooled significantly during the night but in just a few hours the sun would raise again and the sun will bring renewed heat.
She expected to come home to a dark, silent apartment and that was alright. At least she didn’t have to pick up Sally form the sitter’s house and try to get her back to bed. At least there would be the comfort of another body in her bed. Maybe she would even indulge in cuddling up to his sleeping form for a moment before settling a respectable distance from him to go to sleep.
She had gifts wrapped and in the back of her car ready for Sally, purchased on her lunch break. The Las Vegas strip was known for a lot of things but the one thing she always thankful for was the variety of shops. It made for a convenient place to work with good food along with endless options of shops everywhere.
She hated working these extreme late night shifts though. The tips were rarely worth it but everyone did their time on them. It was almost always the broke guests and the addicts that were on the casino floor after one in the morning. At least she didn’t need the tips to afford groceries anymore.
Mia opened the door to a dimly lit apartment. Tom was sitting at the counter with a book in his hand. He looked up at her and smiled softly at her wide eyes.
“You didn’t have to wait up,” Mia kept her voice low as she swallowed back the lump in her throat.
“I wanted to,” Tom set his book face down and Mia cringed for it’s spine as he got up. “How was work?”
“Shitty,” Mia answered as she pulled off her heels. She wanted to take a shower and go to bed.
“Did something happen or was it normal shitty?” Tom wrapped her up in his arms before he had a chance to second guess it.
She was too tired to fight him, to try to deny him in order to protect her heart. All she wanted in the world was to take shelter in the arms of a man who cared for her, to be cared for. It had been so long since she could find safety in an embrace.
Her eyes burned and at first she thought it was just exhaustion. Then she realized it was tears, threatening to spill over. Wrapping her arms around him, she clung to him, fingers bunching the fabric of his shirt as they dug into his back. Shaking breaths shuttered through her as she tried to will herself not to cry.
“What’s wrong, Darling?”
Pulling away, she wiped her hands down her face. Make up probably smeared but she didn’t care. She was too tired to care. All she wanted to do was wipe away the evidence of how close she had come to tears.
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s clearly something,” Tom insisted, holding her hand in his as she stepped away from him. Worry was etched onto his face. “You can talk to me about it.”
“Just some drunk guy,” She tried to wave it off. It didn’t matter. Occupational hazard. It was just another drunk guy in Las Vegas. “Got a little handsy. Security kicked him out, probably kicked his ass. They don’t like it when people mess with us.”
“Nothing more?” Tom asked carefully. He didn’t want to invalidate her feelings but something in his heart told him it was worse than she was letting on. “Does that happen often?”
“More often than I’d like but not so often.” Mia swayed on her feet a little. “I want to take a quick shower than I need to sleep.”
“Have you eaten?” Tom asked as he led her toward the bedroom. Their bedroom.
“It’s fine. I just want to sleep.”
~~~~~<3
The fan whirled above her. Still the steam was thick as she mechanically washed herself, washing away the feeling of hands that didn’t belong. Makeup, perfume and smoke went down the drain along with her tears.
Hot water ran over her as she replayed the last hour of her night again and again.
~~~~~<3 ~~~~~<3
Mia’s feet hurt and she was ready to be done with the night. The floor was mostly dead, full of duds who would not be tipping and more often than not would take a break to get their own drink from the bar than have her fetch it and have to avoid eye contact when they failed to tip.
Still, she did her job.
The man she approached reeked of cigarette smoke. That was her least favorite part about the job, if she was honest. She, like many of the girls, would shower at the end of her shift before going home to avoid taking the stink into their personal cars whenever they could.
“Can I get you a drink?” She asked sweetly. Usually she’d lean into the question but she didn’t want to be any closer to him than she had to be. Something was off about him.
“I’d like a drink of you.” The man’s words were slurred, though he had no glasses around him. Likely he was high on some other substance. That wasn’t an uncommon or unique line.
Mia laughed politely and kept her smile fixed on her face. “That’s not on the menu.”
She walked away, not waiting to see if he was interested in some actual drink. The last thing she wanted was some man pawing at her or giving her his best complements. His complements would never match the complement of having Tom’s eyes on her.
Thankfully, the shift was about done. Mia’s heels made soft thumps as she made her way down the hallway toward the employee lounge. She would shower, toss her dress in the steam cleaner while she did and be done with the night.
“What about what’s on the secret menu?” The slurred words made her blood run cold.
“We don’t have a secret menu.” Turning around, she glued the smile to her face.
He was closer than she had expected. Looking down the hallway, she hoped for someone, anyone who could help her. There was none.
“Don’t be like that, Baby.” The man grabbed her wrist and pushed her against the wall. “This is Vegas. Everything’s on the menu in Vegas.”
“Let go of me,” She screamed as he grabbed her breast.
Thrashing and kicking, she tried to get away. Instead of putting distance between them, it just made the man angrier and drew him closer. His hand clamped down over her mouth, muffling her cries.
It all happened so quickly, spanning just a few short seconds in reality before security was on him. He was ripped off of her harshly. Without his pressure against her body, she fell in a heap to the floor.
Security had certain limitations as to what amount of force they could use during any given situation. Every single one of those limitations went out the window when one of ‘their girls’ was messed with.
It was moments like this that anyone working on the strip could see beyond the shiny lights and legitimate face to what had once been a mafia institution. While the mafia had lost their grips on the glittering city a long time ago, some things were ingrained in the very existence of the city.
One of those things was the simple rule- if you touched one of their girls outside of their job description and without their consent you would, without hesitation, get your ass beat.
This man learned that you could never truly take the Mafia out of Las Vegas.
~~~~~<3~~~~~<3
Knocking on the bathroom door brought her out of her head. “Mia?”
“I’m okay.” Answering like that wouldn’t do anything but raise suspicion but the words were out before she could stop them.
“I hope I didn’t overstep but I’ve brought you some clothes to sleep in.” Tom hesitated for a moment. “I can set them just inside, on the counter with my eyes closed or if you’d rather, I can set them outside the door for you.”
“The counter is fine.” Mia was too tired to care if he closed his eyes or not.
The door opened slowly and she watched Tom’s long arm reach in, gripping a oversized tee shirt and a pair of soft pants from the clean laundry pile she hadn’t gotten around to putting away yet.
“I’ve got a can of soup heating on the stove, in case you change your mind about eating.” Tom was quite for a moment before speaking up again. “I think maybe it’s a bit worse than someone grabbing your arse. You don’t have to tell me but I want yo- need you to know that you didn’t deserve it. It wasn’t right, whatever happened.”
The door clicked shut again and she was alone. “Stop doing that.” She whispered in the steamy room. “Stop making it hard not to love you.”
That was a thought she needed to spend more time with. Right now she couldn’t bring herself to dwell on it though.
Shutting off the water, she quickly dried and dressed. She couldn’t think about falling in love with Tom.. It was enough that he was there right now when she needed him.
~~~~~<3
She had insisted that she wasn’t hungry but when the steaming bowl of canned soup was placed in front of her, she couldn’t deny it. Both her and Tom’s bowls were shallow, the meal being more meant as a single serving than to be shared but that was okay.
Mia needed to eat, she couldn’t argue that but she had no desire to. Robotically, she ate the soup one bite at a time. Tom kept his hand resting high on her back, ready to catch her if she fell over but being careful to not cross any boundaries she may have put up.
Tom took the bowls and rinsed them once they were empty. Standing from her stool, she wobbled on her feet. The mental and emotional exhaustion had stolen from her all the preparation they had put in the night before.
He was quick to her side, clearly worried that she would just fall over where she stood. “Let me carry you?”
“I can walk.” She was so goddamn tired.
“Yes, you can. But let me carry you.” She leaned against him rather than argue. Tom swept her up in his arms rather than argue with her anymore about it.
His heart hurt for her. It had happened quickly but he cared deeply for her already. Knowing she had gone through something that left her hurt to her core shook him. She was a strong, vibrant flower who could withstand anything. Yet tonight, she came home wilted.
He wanted to tell her to quit her job right that night but Tom knew she wouldn’t agree to it. And if he was honest, he also knew that he wasn’t prepared to support two households single handedly. He had made a nice sum with Thor but his current contract for The Avengers was still in the final stages of negotiations.
He had worked a lot during this year and was expecting that to continue through the following year but the idea of counting on money he hadn’t had in his pocket just yet made him nervous.
He could do it, he could make it work. It would be tight and he’d be looking at ways to earn a little extra to ensure he wouldn’t step into debt to cover an unexpected expense or trip. Now wasn’t the right time to make the suggestion again though, he knew that.
In this moment his wife didn’t need him to try and change her life, she needed her husband to offer her strength and support.
~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3~~~~~<3
Tom groped in his nightstand for a condom. Focus was hard to come by as she caressed his member, hand soft and warm. He knew he had a condom in the nightstand somewhere, he had them just in case, though he hadn’t planned on needing them.
“Found it.” He was reckless as he ripped it open.
She took it from him and rolled the thin plastic sleeve down his shaft slowly. They needed to hurry, he wasn’t in a position to take his time. Stamina was never something he had really need to worry about before but with how drunk he was, he knew his ability to perform could die at any moment.
Tom rolled over onto her swiftly, kissing her as if she had the secrets of the world hidden in her mouth. Reaching down between them, he ran his fingers up and down her slit.
She was soaking wet and ready for him. That was good, he didn’t have much reason to wait than.
“My darling Sunflower, are you ready for me?”
~~~~~<3
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#tom hiddleston x ofc#tom hiddleston x reader#tom hiddleston x original character#tom hiddleston x original female character#tom hiddelson x reader#tom hiddleston fanfic#tom hiddleston x you#tom hiddleston rpf
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bnha pro heros with a vigilante s/o
aizawa, hawks, midnight, fatgum, miruko
vigilante reader is a pretty tame vigilante they pretty much just do heroic deeds but without a license so no one really cares much since ur not hurting anyone besides some bumps and scrapes, probably ooc? idk this is how i see them, not proofreading so if it sucks my bad, no warnings for anything i don't think, it's just fluff
midnight/nemuri:
-honestly you're probably not even the first vigilante she's dated, if there's one thing nemuri is gonna do it's whatever the fuck she wants lmao
-she's def the type of person to be like rules are meant to be broken
-nemuri LOVES going out with you, you better pray you don't have a recognizable face because there's no way you're getting out of going out to dinner and her dragging you shopping and her showing you off any chance she gets(not that you'd want to get out of that stuff i mean. it's nemuri)
-nemuri prefers working night shifts even when not working at ua so she can force you to take a break when she takes hers and she always packs you food <3
-she also prefers night shifts so you both can protect each other, shadowing one another in case one of you gets over your heads, the other one never being too far
-she probably has a lot of cats and by default they're your cats so usually while nemuris gone at ua you're playing with her cats. (nemuri probably has hundreds of pictures of you with a cat on top of you after you fell asleep)
-her favorite time of day is when you're both home and sweaty from fighting, your end of day routine always starts with taking a bath together, washing grime off the other, using the tenderness to reset your minds after a long day
-she loves to pamper you, do your nails, face masks, anything you want ,and uses her quirk slightly on you after a particularly rough day, and for her rough days you always make sure she gets a foot massage and glass of wine with a book <3
miruko/rumi:
-is so aggressively supportive of the vigilante thing she'd see you out beating the shit out of a villain and be like BEAT THEIR ASS BABE GET EM
-insists on you training with her. if you want to be a vigilante you gotta be in shape enough to go toe to toe with the number 5 pro hero
-absolutely kicks your ass in training but it's okay bc she gives you kisses every time you pin her <3
-if you're not immediately recognizable as a vigilante she Will take you to the boring hero shit she has to go with. no one's willing to get close enough to you besides hawks, because if you're with her she'll glare down anyone who tries to approach her and hawks is the only one brave enough to get closer (she also trusts hawks the most out of all of them and knows hes no snitch)
-has a sixth sense for when you're in trouble, so if you're ever in over your head in the same city as her ur opponent better start praying
-y'all's end of day routine always starts with rumi ranting about her day while you cook dinner for the both of you, then it's your turn to rant while she cleans the dishes after dinner
-on especially hard days for you, rumi gives a mean back massage that leaves you putty in her hands, on rumis hard days you always do her hair. she finds it so relaxing and loves the styles you do on her and will proudly wear whatever you did as long as she can
hawks/keigo:
-keigo would be a vigilante if he wasn't taken in by the commission. 100% he would not have stopped saving lives even if he got in trouble for it. he might even fuck around and manage to get you an actual hero license if you want one, even a fake one to get out of trouble if you need it
-basically. even as the number two hero he's no snitch and in fact really respects what you do. you guys probably met trying to save the same civilian or something and hit it off immediately
-he lets you follow him on patrols, absolutely no fucks. almost everyone thinks you're just one of his sidekicks and you basically act as one without the hero license. would just use his feathers to carry you away from any particularly hard ass heros (cough endeavor cough) if he needs to
-doesn't have a lot of friends but the ones he does have know all about you (including everything keigo gushes to them about you ugh) and they also don't care, they trust him as a person and a hero so by default they trust you
-probably also insists on training you but most of your spars end up in making out because he has no self control when it comes to you but you're not complaining
-end of day routine with keigo would def start with you two dancing in keigos living room, he just sweeps you up and starts dancing out of no where, doesn't even need music, the sound of you laughing at his antics is music enough for him, you've come to expect it every day when he comes home and it's one of the things you miss most when he's gone on a longer mission
-your rough days always end with you flying, even if you can fly using your own quirk, there's something about being held to the chest of the man you love while he flys through the night sky, placing unwavering trust in him to not let you fall while you admire the stars always makes your heart full, and for keigos rough days, you always preen his feathers, he's not used to anyone touching them besides his fans grabbing at him, so nothing relaxes him more than the feeling of your fingers in his feathers, straightening and adjusting them for him as you go
fatgum/taishiro:
-taishiro is just That Guy yk u guys probably met because he picked you up by your scruff during a fight you were losing and he jumped in all heroic like *swoons*
-him being That Guy /pos and all his only reaction after dealing with the villain is to put you down and be like woah. hello person i have never seen in my life before this very second right now. you should hurry along i don't want any civilians caught in the cross hairs when the police arrive. anyway random stranger i've never seen ever you should totally come by my hero agency and train in case you know. you get caught close to another villain attack
-guys got a heart proportional to the rest of him how could you not do anything for him he's sunshine personified. if he said jump you'd ask how high he's just got that affect
-he's probably the most chill pro hero aside from like. aizawa. you know how like the bigger the dog the more chill they get (usually). yeah same affect with him he minds his business stays in his lane does heroic deeds on the reg yk
- his favorite thing to do with you is spend time with you laying on top of him <33 he usually takes up all the space on wherever he's lying but no complaints can be heard when you get to cuddle on top of him all night
-end of day routine with taishiro would pretty much be him coming home from work, flopping on the couch, and dragging you to lay on top of him to doze until the food he ordered arrives (even if you wanted to there's no way you could cook for tai after work, you'd have a hard enough time cooking for Any pro hero let alone one who's quirk is dependent on food)
-your rough days usually entail you crawling inside his shirts to be closer to him (in my mind his clothes are probably usually baggy because they need to be able to withstand his full size and after a day at work he'd probably be at least somewhat smaller) and him allowing you to curl up on him like a cat (he probably also pets ur hair like a cat but we don't need to mention that), his rough days probably entail something like baking treats together!! he seems like the kind of guy who really really enjoys quality time with a s/o and combining that with food? his bad day melts away immediately
eraserhead/shouta:
-same shit different day yeah? he probably mostly has vigilante friends if we're honest (aside from hizashi and nemuri of course)
-is definitely used to dealing with vigilantes both a professional and unprofessional sense, nothing you can do will shock him, and you can always count on him to save your ass when things go south, it's like he has a second quirk with the way he's able to sense when you're either about to do something stupid or about to die. usually both.
-you guys patrol at night together, you both prefer working when you know the other is somewhere nearby in case things go south, and more often than not you take cases on together (although Technically it's just him on the paperwork)
-omg what if you guys meet because he saw you feeding a cat and snuck up on you only for you to. notice him? holy shit?? you could sense his presence?? he was flabbergasted. that like never fucking happens
-end of day routine is you bullying him into a shower with you and him making you wash his hair as payment. literally a fucking cat. we both know he wouldn't shower after patrol alone he'd just go to sleep.
-your rough days always end up with you in a caterpillar looking ass sleeping bag with shouta but you'd have it no other way. his rough days are full of cat cafes. they just relax him like nothing else
#bnha x you#bnha x y/n#bnha x reader#aizawa x y/n#aizawa x reader#aizawa x you#aizawa shouta#hawks x reader#hawks x you#keigo x y/n#keigo x reader#keigo x you#keigo takami#takami x reader#miruko x reader#miruko x you#miruko#miruku#miriko#rumi usagiyama x reader#rumi x reader#fatgum x you#fatgum x y/n#fatgum x reader#midnight x reader#nemuri kayama#nemuri x reader#nemuri kayama x reader#toyomitsu taishirou x reader#taishiro x reader
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Hear me out, yandere btas two-face hcs?
GENERAL YANDERE BTAS TWO-FACE HCS
MALE READER. ROMANTIC HCS. TW FOR USUAL UPSETTING STUFF, Y’KNOW THE DEAL.
— can you tell I like him a lot? reader is a DA in this one.
It was completely by chance, the double-headed coin landing unscarred side up as he pressed his gun against your skull.
Let’s just say your lawyer friends hadn’t been so lucky. The coin was on a heads streak today, and he saved Gotham’s new rising-star attorney boy for last: little ol’ you.
It was cute how despite the situation you stood steadfast, staring into the eyes of Death. It reminded him of himself a bit. How he too was once so passionate about upholding the law, he didn’t care what trouble stood in his way.
It took a lot of guts, he’d give you that. But the last thing he expected was to be frozen in place, caught in this staring match. How your brilliant eyes glared holes into him.
He felt his bitter heart twitch a little as he watched you leave. The two of them hated these feelings being stirred up again, more intensely than when he was with Grace. He would’ve shot you then and there just to be done with it, but he couldn’t argue with the coin.
It was the start of a long-standing game between the two of you.
He almost wanted to get caught, just to see you in action in the courtroom.
The way Harvey and Two-Face experience their feelings towards you are entirely different.
Two-Face hates how you have an effect on him despite your interference with his criminal activities, and has violent thoughts about you that he’s yet to carry out because of the coin or Harvey’s influence.
On the other hand, Harvey respects and admires you, treats you like glass, and has delusions about you already loving him back unconditionally. Unfortunately for you though, he rarely fronts, especially when Two-Face’s obsession escalates.
Rivalry ended with Batman, started with you.
Every scheme of his would include you in some way, just to give him an excuse to bother you
Oh, that pesky little lawyer you, trying to save a city rotting from the inside. And worst of all, luck always seemed to be on your side.
How many times has he kidnapped you, has he thought about murdering you up right so he didn’t have to feel the effect of your charms, only for the coin to spare you!
Two-Face grows more agitated as time goes on, the more he loses control.
Harvey had his reservations about forcing you to be with him at first, but if the coin was trying to tell him something, with how it always seemed to favor you…
Surely you guys were meant to be a pair, right? Harvey is convinced that the two of you were fated to be together. That though you may put up a fight, you still love him. And so he lets Two-Face do what he deems necessary, because he believes it will all work out in the end. Couples have their fights, right?
Two-Face doesn’t mind you interacting with others, as long as you aren’t getting too comfortable with them…
If anyone even thinks about taking your attention away from him, he’ll make their lives hell.
He despises how Batman always gets you out of harms way. Why did nobody treat him with the same care when he was DA? Maybe then he wouldn’t be so fucked up.
“The Bat won’t come for you this time, handsome. He couldn’t even save us.”
Two-Face likes threatening you to do what he wants. He can get easily enraged and physically violent, especially if you don’t reciprocate his affections in the way that he wants you to.
He has no issue with laying a hand on you, especially if the coin approves of it. You’re a tough guy, you should be able to take it like one. Harvey may not engage in the same behaviors, but he certainly doesn’t apologize for Two-Face’s actions either.
And he can’t deny he gets a twisted sort of pleasure from watching your reactions to his handsiness.
Bet you like how Two-Face roughs you up, huh? Of course you do.
If the coin decides not to punish you, then sometimes Harvey will come out, and handle you somewhat gentler
But he’s still easily jealous, judging by how he voices his concerns about you getting close to others all the time. After all, he genuinely believes you two are basically a couple already.
Both of them want to hear you profess your love and praise him and tell him how good he is, to you and Gotham, and not because he has a knife against your throat
“Say it again, like you mean it this time.”
#harvey dent x male reader#two face x male reader#two-face x reader#two face x reader#harvey dent x reader#btas twoface#yandere x male reader#yandere#tw yandere#batman villain x reader
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re. the CCPD's extreme ethical violations... instead of the shitty forces plotline in season 7, the "villain" should have been someone from the ethics committee or even just a random cop with an actual moral compass who finds out barry is the flash during the meta-of-the-week shenanigans and instead of being like "wow, allen, ngl i used to think you were a useless lab rat, but now i know you're a secret lawbreaking vigilante i have decided i respect you! please carry on and continue to jeopardize every criminal conviction we've made as a department for the past 6 years, which would almost certainly be overturned if anyone found out about this", they're like "what the fuck??? you mean you've been doing this for SIX YEARS and EVERYONE KNOWS ABOUT IT, INCLUDING THE CAPTAIN OF YOUR PRECINCT (WHO IS BOTH YOUR FOSTER FATHER AND YOUR FATHER-IN-LAW), AND THE LITERAL CHIEF OF POLICE??" and then they make it their life's mission to ensure that everyone who was culpable in this insane breach of ethics is fired. this could have been kramer but she ended up being a flash ally in the end, smh kramer
to be fair, this actually works quite well in terms of fixing their ill-advised departure from the meta-of-the-week format, because the natural conclusion is that everyone who was convicted based on evidence from one of barry's testimonies or any case he worked on would almost certainly be released or at the very least would have strong grounds for a retrial. so we could just bring back every meta barry has ever faced in the past who has now been released from iron heights... not sure what barry would do with them now though considering his police connections have been cut off so good luck transferring them to iron heights... also his identity would probably be revealed as part of this whole mess so that'd also be a whole disaster. then someone notices that the central city citizen is the ONLY paper in the city that hasn't splashed barry and joe's guilty faces all over the front page like "CSI AND DETECTIVE ACCUSED OF EVIDENCE TAMPERING" and does a cursory google and finds out the editor of CCC is married to said evidence-tampering CSI and the daughter of said detective and that's a whole NEW can of worms. they call cecile and she's like oh i'd love to be your attorney! unfortunately i have also been fired for my own culpability in your crimes. whatever poor public defender is assigned to deal with this shitshow is gonna have a field day
#tbf this may be a bad idea for a season cos that's not something that blows over lmao. it would basically ruin their lives whoops#the fallout would be fun though#meta
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What if Joe goes on a trip with reader their family and the whole time reader won't let him kiss her on the mouth or anything bc she doesn't want to do that with her family around and its driving him crazy bc she won't let him touch her or do anything else at all so he keeps trying when they have a moment alone or before bed and she just keeps refusing until one night she caves and let's him but her younger cousins (around their very early 20s) hear them and make little jokes only they would get infront of her parents
Pleassseee, I can just imagine Joe's face looking like this at reader when she denies him for the 50th time HAHA - this isn't my best writing, but I hope you enjoy :))
Slight smut mentions so Under 18's DNI x
Thanks for requesting honey x
You'd spent the last 6 days away at a beautiful quaint little city in Spain with Joe and your family, the word family being your parents, your auntie and uncle and your two younger cousins that were basically adults themselves. It had also been the most painful of situations due to the fact you were in a recently new relationship and Joe wanted full PDA with you all of the time and you were just not into your parents or any of them for that matter seeing such a thing.
Sure, the honeymoon period was a certainly a thing and when you were alone you were at it like rabbits, but you couldn't handle your overly horny and needy boyfriend wanting you at every stage of the day on this occasion. He'd always seem to try to kiss you, or edge his arms around your waist, the littlest thing you'd done was let him hold your hand, you weren't embarrassed you just had more respect for your family seeing you in that way, which you weren't exactly used to.
The night before you were due to catch a flight home, you and Joe left your family to go up to the shared apartment you were all in, he had stressed to you out on the balcony that he was getting annoyed by your lack of affection and needed you so bad, so you gave up in the end with his whining and decided to make out that you weren't feeling too good and insisted Joe would look after you and that they need not worry and to simply enjoy their last night. He gave everyone a thorough nod and bid everyone goodnight.
The minute you stepped into the apartment Joe threw a solid look and you had come to know exactly what that meant. "Thank fuck for that." he cursed under his breath, you barely closing the door as his lips caught yours in an instant. The kiss was particularly heated and sloppy due to the delay of letting it happen and the fact he was only receiving small pecks goodnight for the time being, every other time the kiss was this intense, it'd lead to you being bent over and fucked hard. Not that you were complaining in any way, your boyfriend was sight to behold during those times.
You'd been lifted up and carried straight into your room, kicking the door shut with his foot as he tossed you down onto the bed, your dominant man fully in play. He was aching for you. If you didn't know Joe, he appeared as a shy and very innocent person which at times was generally correct, but the dark horse in him came out every now and then and that was one of the many reasons you loved him.
You were both too busy to notice that your cousins had come back into the apartment to come to bed, leaving the other grown-ups to their conversations. They stopped in their tracks when they could hear Joe giving you the spanking of your life for denying him for almost a week, followed by muffled whimpers coming from your room when he was pounding the shit out of you and holding your head down into the pillow just incase anyone came back. Sure precautions were being met but you both weren't doing a very good job at being quiet.
You knew full well they had heard you that next day when you sat around the table eating breakfast. They kept making small whimpering noises and clapping their hands together loudly and sniggering at the both of you. You shook your head in realisation and gestured for them both to shut the hell up.
"Are you feeling better? Did you both get some good sleep last night, Y/N?"
You nodded, smiling sheepishly to your dad.
"Yeah, Joe made sure of that." One of your cousins piped up as you kicked your foot into theirs.
"What do they mean?"
Joe's eyes were firmly planted on his food trying not to look at anyone out of pure worry. Sure, you were both consenting adults and allowed to do whatever you wanted, but that wasn't the point.
"Nothing!" your dad carried on with his breakfast and the moment he looked away you shot your cousins a threatening look.
Of course, you'd get caught.
#my asks#requestsareopen#lovely anon#joe quinn fanfic#joequinn#josephquinn#joseph quinn fanfiction#joseph quinn#joe quinn#joe quinn x reader#joesph quinn#joseph quinn character#japan#joseph quinn fic#joseph quinn fluff#joseph quinn imagine#joseph quinn smut#joseph quinn x reader#joseph quinn x you#joe quinn smut#joe quinn x you#joe quinn x y/n#joseph quinn request#chocolate button eyes#joe quinn request#joseph quinn blurb#joe quinn blurb#eddie munson#eddiemunson#eddie fanfic
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