Synopsis: Your boyfriend seems to always have a vendetta against every co-star you work with. This time around, you're the leading lady in one of the most prestigious roles in the DC universe. What are the odds that your man will be getting along with this particular leading man?
Starring: Benito "Bad Bunny" Ocasio, Danny Ramirez
Form: SMAU
☀️Sunny asks: 200 followers RAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH. It seems I have discovered a raging praise kink within myself because every like, comment and reblog of one of my posts fills me with immense JOY! PS. in this universe, joaquin torres didn't survive the explosion in CABNW😔 (please don't ask for a part2, this took me 2 months to make)
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Liked by ayoedebiri, anthonymackie, jbalvin and others
catwoman26 A bit of chaos behind the scenes with our leading couple. If madkittyn wasn't hijacking the director's seat, then dannyramirez was moving furniture around for some reason. Despite that, both seem ready for #CATWOMAN out this February! Are you?🐈⬛️
wonderingwoman84 girl, I've BEEN ready!!
inaflash97 you know the movie is gonna be fire if the cast is this silly☝️🙂↕️
benitobebe don't use the word "couple"! you'll summon...HIM...
new_here01 who's him??👀
yosoybunny22 you must be new here
new_here01 well, yeah😭😭
yosoybunny22 YN's man, babe💀
new_here01 just did a quick google search and what does Bad Bunny have to do with the remake of Catwoman?
benitobebe NO DONT SAY HIS NAME EITHER😫😫
filmnpassion acting like the guy is candyman or smthng💀💀
msamberpriley and YN was supposed to be the cat burglar dannyramirez😒
dannyramirez what is that supposed to mean, ma'am?🧍🏻♂️
msamberpriley that you're a thief, catch up!
dannyramirez I have no idea what you mean🤨
msamberpriley you literally took that chair home with you??
dannyramirez ever heard of souvenirs, amber?
msamberpriley ever heard of petty theft charges, danny?
madkittyn free my man! he didn't do anything wrong
perreobaby4 why do I feel a chill up my spine?
meow_reboot2 GOD DAMN SHE FINE🫦
sopurrfect7 danny can't fight all of us
ynbeloved you mean benito??👁👄👁
sopurrfect7 co-star chemistry so good, I forgot YN has a man waiting for her at home😭😭
sopurrfect7 okay, so maybe both benito and danny can fight us all😬
falconfoever3 no no, they're too busy beefing on the low, we can get YN while they're distracted!
danielkaluuya think you forgot to tag someone catwoman26
catwoman26 How could we forget the hottest doctor in Gotham? We were gatekeeping you.
imbatman IM SO EXCITED
thecatlady1 people are raving about a catwoman movie, the world is healing🧎🏼♂️
whipmeow PROPAGANDA IM FALLING FOR!
dannyramirez nothing more romantic than leather and whips for Valentines Day😉see yall in the cinemas!
madkittyn which authority approved this comment?🤨
dannyramirez don't need authority when I am the authority😌
madkittyn that badge must've given you a big ego
dannyramirez you weren't complaining the past few months 🤷🏻♂️
badbunnypr cabron, cuando me veas en la calle, deberías caminar en sentido contrario.
dannyramirez es solo un poco de diversión, hermano😂
madkittyn guys wait, I'm only on day 67 of duolingo
sashacalle trust me babe, you don't wanna know what they're saying😬
dcisqueer69 YN's hoes fighting in the comments😭😭this is frying me
madkittyn see you guys in the cinemas, meow🐈⬛💋
Translations:
(badbunnypr when you see me on the street, you should walk the other way)
(dannyramirez it's just a bit of fun😂)
...
Liked by badbunnypr, glenpowell, tayrussell and others
cartier If diamonds are a girl's best friend, then cartier is with catwoman for life! #cartierxcatwoman is a collaboration meant to display the cuts it takes to be a crook with an affinity for crystals and hearts🐈⬛We support madkittyn and dannyramirez making history!
jayptodd49 TWO BAD BTCHES AT THE SAME DAMN TIME🗣
wwonderfulwoman gods, where do I look??
quinzelleh11 panicking so bad rn😭
jester97 put me in coach! in between!
anthonymackie cartier?? let me borrow 20 dollars dannyramirez
dannyramirez bro😭you're STILL captain america
madkittyn he's STILL cinderella actually
dannyramirez "actually☝️🤓"
madkittyn don't start, homewrecker🧍🏾♀️
anthonymackie so no 20 dollars?
ynmymuse homewrecker👁👄👁?
greenarroww0 YN, your greed knows no bounds
bruciewayne8 I wish I was rich😔I want a cartierxcatwoman necklace
madkittyn I got you
bruciewayne8 wait, huh?
bruciewayne8 OMG???
blackwidowbaby I don't go here, but hallelujah danny you've made it! we're all so proud 👏🏻
samismycap kevin feige, you will pay for wasting my baby away🚶➡️#jtfalconforever
thesecretdoor oh what could have been😭😭😭😭
actingyn this is my it couple if they were a real couple🧎♂️
flyinggrayson3 I can't even imagine the face ECONOMY that james gunn is building with these casting choices
demonwayne4 what happens when he converges the alternate universes and Patience Phillips meets Selina Kyle???
signal00 when Detective Tom Lone has to meet Bruce Wayne, I'm wet actually
annehathaway absolutely stunning madkittyn!
zoeisabellakravitz pretty✨️
michellepfeifferofficial trusting you with the torch, babe❤️
madkittyn I worship you all🐈⬛
booyakasha1 mom and uncle danny who only comes around when dad isn't home
flashus OMG???😭😭😭
badbunnypr bueno, tráela de vuelta ahora dannyramirez
dannyramirez ya se acabó mi tiempo?
badbunnypr nos vemos en california, cabron
dannyramirez dale💪
madkittyn I'm still so jealous that you guys understand each other
sashacalle I'll translate, babe☝️😌
halleberry no one better to carry patience's legacy on
madkittyn my inspiration, my muse, my queen, my catwoman🐈⬛
bbbenito777 is it just me or danny's growing on benito?
Translations:
(badbunnypr okay, bring her back to me now)
(dannyramirez is my time up already?)
(badbunnypr see you in california, man [superbowl])
(dannyramirez let's go/come on/hell yeah💪)
...
Liked by pascalispunk, crownpeace, rauwalejandro and others
dannyramirez February in a few photos
jayrellis "in a few photos" and bro shows us his entire gallery💀
monicabarbaro he turned his cloud upside down and shook everything out😭😭
lewispullman dude actually likes his friends
glenpowell 🤨when did you get ig?
dannyisdaddy now hold on...
fanboyfan let me just put my glasses on
gothamite12 that's odd..
ynupdates why am I seeing a benitoXynXdanny sandwich?
primeroconejo girl, I thought I was hallucinating😧
bunniesunite benito's jacket says "not from paris, madame"👀 so they're GOING to paris instead? ifkyk
ynislife bad bunny in a danny post? what's the enemy doing here?
mrsramirez babe, I think they've progressed from enemies to lovers👁👄👁
dctops posting YN like she's his woman😭😭
marvelrocks I'm gonna hold your hand with a tissue in between when I say this...
iluvjohnstewart danny at the superbowl, WE CHEERED
mrstorres either danny and benito have made peace or this has become a poly option🤨
hippityhop never in my life did I think the beef would evolve into a bromance/BL
bbbenito777 I told you guys that danny was growing on benito!
rooster02 gotta love when the maverick crew get back together!💪😌
lovelyyn YN borrow me your prayers🙏🏽I just wanna see smth
madkittyn check your dms, lovey
day1ynfan this is the greed they talk about in the bible
madkittyn hot x3
badbunnypr supongo que puede quedarse
dannyramirez sabía que te gustaba!
madkittyn kissing without me, boys? (I asked sasha to translate🧍🏾♀️)
Pairing: Joaquín Torres x Reader
Summary: You help Joaquín get ready for a gala that he and Sam are attending – though because of the 'no plus ones' rule, Joaquín would rather stay with you instead... and he intends to convince you to let him.
Warnings: I don't think I use any pronouns or gender specific terms in this (please let me know if I do and I'll fix my warnings) but it is mentioned that reader has hair long enough for Joaquín to tangle his hands in. There are references to nudity. It's also slightly suggestive at times but nothing specific.
Word Count: 3.2k
A/N: Surprise! It's been a whole month since I last wrote for Joaquín, and then this morning I woke up to those photos of Danny at the Mission premiere and he is so Joaquín in them that I was inspired. I was literally plotting this out at work cause I couldn't stop thinking about how good he looked in that outfit and then I started working on this the second I got home. I'm actually so happy with how it turned out considering I haven't written for Joaquín in a month, but I have missed writing for him so much. I really hope all of you will love this! 💗
“Angel, I really don’t think that Sam would mind that much,” Joaquin calls from the bathroom, fresh out of the shower. He hooks a towel around his waist and moves to stand in the doorway so he can see you, sitting cross legged on the bed, staring down at your phone. “I seriously think he’d be cool with going alone.”
You look up from your phone, eyes falling on your half-naked boyfriend, and forget how to speak for a moment. His hair is still wet and so is his chest – he’d clearly forgotten to dry himself off properly, wanting to talk to you so badly and attempt to convince you to let him stay home again.
Ever since he’d found out that there were no plus ones allowed at the gala he and Sam had been invited to, he had decided that he didn’t want to go. Sam was going to be there too, so it wasn’t like he was going alone, but for some reason, the simple fact that you couldn’t go made it so that he didn’t want to go either.
“Are you listening to me, angel?”
You blink, tearing your eyes away from his chest where you’d apparently been staring, and nod. “I am, but you’re still going to the gala, Joaquin. You made a promise to Sam.”
Joaquin pouts a little and walks across the room towards you. You try not to focus on the fact that the towel around his waist is tied incredibly low and instead, look at the wet footprints he’s leaving as he walks.
“Baby, you’re gonna get the carpet wet!” You scold him, standing up from the bed just as he reaches you. You place your hands on his chest and start to push him backwards towards the bathroom. “Dry yourself off before you come out here. You know better.”
Joaquin’s pout turns into a grin as he’s pushed backwards by you. He finds it adorable when you get so frustrated over the small things like that, and the fact that your hands are on his bare chest is just a bonus. “Well, stay with me in the bathroom while I dry off, then, cause I don’t wanna have to yell at you just to talk to you,” he says, allowing himself to be pushed back to the bathroom.
“Fine,” you sigh, moving to take a seat on the toilet lid.
You try your best not to stare as Joaquin undoes the towel around his waist and gets to work drying himself off. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before – the man does have a habit of wearing nothing or very little around the house – but it still has the same effect on you every time. You make an effort to look at his face instead.
“I can just text Sam and tell him I’m sick or something,” Joaquin suggests, trying to get back to the topic of the gala. “He wouldn’t know if I’m lying or not.”
You groan and lean back against the cistern. “Baby, you are not lying to Sam about being sick. It’s just a few hours. You’ll probably really enjoy yourself when you’re there. It’ll go so fast and then you’ll be home.”
Joaquin picks up his boxers and pulls them on, frowning to himself as he does. He’d really thought that maybe, you watching him dry off after his shower might give you a reason to finally relent and let him stay home… he’d clearly underestimated your ability to stay true to your word. “You won’t be there, though. It’s not going to be as fun if you’re not there with me.”
“So you never had fun before you met me?”
He turns to look at you, a cheeky smile on his face. “Never.”
You roll your eyes and pick up his dress pants, sitting beside you on the vanity, and throw them at him. “Just get dressed, silly.”
“I’m just saying,” Joaquin says, catching the pants and pulling them on. “I’d have so much more fun if I stayed home with you. I’m sure I could could come up with something we could do. There are so many options.”
He does the button on the pants up and looks at you, eyebrows raised. You can tell by the look on his face exactly what he’s thinking and shake your head, trying not to laugh.
“C’mon, angel. What do you say?” He hums, taking a few steps closer to you and reaching down to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear. This is definitely going to work. He knows that you’ve always been susceptible to his touch.
Joaquin almost smiles as you stand up and place your hands on his chest. He places his own hands on your waist and tugs you a little closer to him.
“Baby,” you start, and Joaquin nods at you, his eyes wide and full of hope. “I love you, but I swear if you don’t pick up that dress shirt right now, put it on and finish getting ready, I’m never touching you again. That means no hugs, no kisses, no–”
Joaquin groans and steps back away from you. “You’re killing me here, angel.”
“You’ll live,” you laugh, sitting back down on the toilet lid.
He picks up the dress shirt from the vanity and pulls it on, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time. The pout on his lips is so cute that you almost stand right back up and kiss him, but you know that if you do, there’s no way Joaquin is leaving the house.
“I might not,” Joaquin huffs, starting to do the buttons up on his shirt. “It’ll be hours without you. I’ll be all alone in a giant room full of strangers.”
You watch as he does the buttons up all the way to the top and can’t help yourself from standing up and taking a few steps towards him. The pout on his mouth stays in place.
“You’re the most social person I know, Joaquin. Since when do you fear a room full of strangers?” You ask, reaching up to the top button of his shirt. “Anyway, I’ll be eagerly waiting for you to come home if that makes you feel any better.”
Joaquin’s hands find your waist again as you unbutton the top button of the shirt. His breath hitches. Has he finally won you over just by being fully dressed and pouty? His grip tightens on your waist as you unbutton the next button. Then, you drop your hands.
“Angel.”
“There, all done,” you smile, leaning up to peck his lips. “Now, come on. I’ll dry your hair and style it for you and then you’ll be all ready to go. Sam will be here soon anyway.”
You move to step away from him and walk out of the room but Joaquin is quick to pull you back to him. Before you have a chance to object, his lips are on yours. You moan a little at the contact which only spurs Joaquin on more. His hands slip underneath the fabric of your pyjama shirt as he manoeuvres you up and onto the vanity behind you. He uses one hand to push your legs apart so he can stand between them. The other hand moves to tangle in your hair.
It takes every ounce of control not to start unbuttoning the rest of Joaquin’s shirt as he kisses you. You can’t even fist the fabric in your hands, not wanting to crease it when he’s about to leave for a fancy gala. His hair, though, is open territory. Despite the fact that it’s still damp, one of your hands weaves its way into it and you can’t help but tug a little. The noise he makes into your mouth is one you wish you could hear over and over again.
Reluctantly, Joaquin has to pull away to breathe soon. His forehead falls against yours, his breathing heavy. One of his hands rests on your thigh, the other one that had been in your hair now gently holding the back of your neck.
“You ready for me to dry your hair now?” You ask, voice a little teasing.
Joaquin rolls his eyes and stands up straight. “You can’t seriously expect me to still go to the gala after that, can you?”
Smiling, you put your hands on his chest and push him back a little, just enough for you to stand up off of the vanity. His hands stay firmly on you, the one that had been on your thigh now resting on your hip instead.
“You say that as if I’m the one who initiated that, baby.”
He can’t help but laugh a little at that. You were right – he had been the one to initiate the kiss. He just hadn’t expected you to get quite as into it as you had. “Okay, fair call.”
You reach down to take one of his hands. “C’mon, baby.”
Joaquin allows himself to be dragged out of the bathroom by you and smiles a little at the fact that only minutes ago, you’d been pushing him back into the bathroom and now you’re dragging him out of it. He allows you to dry his hair, enjoying the feeling of your fingers running through it and the warm air from the hairdryer. He especially enjoys the fact that you lean down once it’s all dry and kiss him just behind his ear. He almost turns around and tugs you down onto his lap then and there. He’s surprised he manages to stop himself.
It’s not too long later that you’re standing beside him just inside the front door of your house. There’s a limo outside waiting to pick up Joaquin to take him to the gala. Sam’s already waiting inside, probably very impatiently.
“You sure it’s too late to back out?” Joaquin asks, his arms wrapped around you, hands resting on the small of your back. “I could still pull the ‘hey, I’m feeling sick all of a sudden’ card.”
“No, Joaquin,” you shake your head. “You’re going.”
He groans and throws his head back. “Ugh, fine.”
You take advantage of the situation to stand up on your tip-toes and press a kiss to his neck, right above his Adam’s apple. You can feel him tense up at the sudden contact and feel satisfied that you’ve succeeded in your intentions as you see the look in his eyes.
“What was that for?”
“I’m just giving you another memory to think of when you’re out tonight,” you shrug your shoulders. “You look so handsome that I couldn’t help myself. You should wear shirts like this more often.”
Joaquin chuckles. “Thank you, angel. I think I need another memory though.”
He leans in and kisses you again. It’s only a quick kiss, even though he’d like nothing more than to make it more than that, but it’s good enough for him.
As soon as you break away, there’s the sound of the car horn honking outside – Sam’s way of telling Joaquin to hurry the hell up.
“Now, you really have to go,” you laugh, pulling yourself out of his arms to open up the front door. You shiver a little at the cool evening air and it makes Joaquin want to wrap you up in his arms all over again. “Baby, come on.” You reach out and grab his hand, pulling him forward until he’s finally out on the doorstep.
Joaquin smiles at you, just enjoying the feeling of holding your hand.
“Okay, you go out and have a good night, okay? Text me when you’re on your way home. I’ll try and stay awake for you as long as I can,” you give his hand a squeeze and then let go.
“I won’t be late, I promise. I don’t wanna keep you up,” he says. Joaquin isn’t going that easily, though. He steps forward and gives you another quick kiss. “I love you, angel.” The words are murmured against your lips. “I want more kisses when I’m home, okay?”
Laughing, you gently push him away from you. “Hurry up, you’re keeping Sam waiting!”
“Only when you say you love me too!”
“I love you too. Now go!”
Joaquin grins and finally turns around, starting to walk down the path towards the car. He’s about half way there when he turns on his heel and starts running back to you. You watch him, amused, as he makes his way back towards the house. Unsurprisingly, he meets you with another kiss – this one a little longer and a little rougher than last time.
Instead of being interrupted by a car horn honking this time, it’s the sound of Sam’s voice that makes Joaquin pull away from you, his hand still resting on your back.
“I swear if you don’t get into this car right now, Joaquin, I’m replacing you as Falcon!”
Joaquin’s eyes widen almost comically, but even though a part of him really believes that Sam would do it, it doesn’t stop him from leaning in to peck your lips again before he turns back around and starts running towards the limo.
“I love you, angel!” He yells as he’s running.
“Love you too,” you call back through your laughter.
You watch as he gets into the limo and then notice the window rolling down. He waves to you until the house is no longer visible and then finally looks at Sam for the first time since he’d gotten in.
“Next time, we’re negotiating for plus ones.”
~~~
It’s late by the time Joaquin comes home – much later than you’d anticipated. You’d attempted to stay up as long as you could, but when you hear the key in the front door, you’re half asleep in your bed, the room only lit by a lamp on your bedside table.
“Angel, are you sleeping?” Joaquin’s voice wakes you up a little.
Stifling a yawn, you push yourself into a seated position as the door to your bedroom opens and Joaquin walks inside, a smile on his face the second he sees you. His hair is a little messy, likely from a night of dancing or other tomfoolery, and his shirt is creased like you’d expected it to be when he came home.
“Hey, baby. What time is it?” You ask, rubbing your eyes a little. You’re pretty sure you’d fallen asleep for at least a little bit there, but you have no idea when or for how long. “Did you have a good night?”
Joaquin crosses over towards the bed and is about to sit down on it when you stop him.
“No outside clothes on the bed.”
He chuckles and starts to undo his belt. “You just trying to get me naked, angel?”
“If I wasn’t about to pass out, I’d say yes.”
He removes his dress shirt and pants, leaving them in a pile on the floor and leaving him in only his boxers before he climbs up onto the bed beside you, his phone in one of his hands. He slides underneath the covers and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him so he can lean in and press a kiss to your cheek.
“It’s like… one a.m., I think,” Joaquin starts, answering your earlier question. “And I had the best night. You were right, angel. I really enjoyed myself once I was actually there.” He pauses for a second, then his eyes light up as he remembers something. “Oh, they had a whole room full of ice sculptures! Have you seen them before? It was so cold in there, like a giant walk-in freezer. They even had a sculpture of me! Wait, I took a picture…”
You smile, leaning into his side as he unlocks his phone and opens up the camera roll. He swipes past about ten selfies of himself before he gets to the ones he wants to show you – the ice sculptures. You’re definitely gonna be asking for copies of the selfies tomorrow.
“I took photos of everything so I could show you,” he explains, stopping on one ice sculpture that is unmistakably Falcon. “How cool is that! I’m an ice sculpture. I mean, not anymore. I’m probably just a puddle of water now but still.”
It’s sweet, the way he’s so excited about how much he’d enjoyed his evening. Even though it’s one in the morning and you wish you were fast asleep, you’re glad to be experiencing the wonder in his eyes and the joy in his voice. How he can be so energetic so late at night though, you don’t understand.
“That’s super cool, baby,” you hum, no longer looking at the photo but up at him.
Joaquin locks his phone and sits it on his bedside table. “Honestly, I think it might’ve been one of the best nights of my life,” he admits.
You raise your eyebrows. “Oh, that’s funny coming from the man who didn’t even want to go in the first place,” you chuckle, amused. You’re a little more awake now, simply from seeing how happy he is. “So, you don’t need those kisses you asked for anymore, then? I can just go back to sleep then.”
He looks down at you. “Okay, so I didn’t say that.”
One of his hands moves to cup your jaw, his thumb gently swiping over your cheek, as he leans in to kiss you again. Despite the fact that he had had a really great night at the gala, it would’ve been made a million times better with you there. And after the kisses you’d shared while he was getting ready, he’s been waiting for this one all night.
The kiss is different to all the ones you’d had before. It’s slow, soft and gentle. It doesn’t last very long, though. Joaquin can tell how tired you are and the last thing he wants is to keep you up any later, especially when he’d been out later than he’d intended on.
“That was nice,” you mutter after he pulls away from the kiss.
“It was,” he agrees, then tilts his head downwards to briefly capture your lips in his again. His teeth nip at your bottom lip, unable to help himself. “But you should get some sleep now, angel. It’s late and you were falling asleep when I came in, I could tell.”
You stifle another yawn and shake your head. “No, I wanna stay up with you longer. I missed you tonight.”
Joaquin’s heart clenches in his chest. You’d been so adamant for him to go, but all this time you’d been at home missing him. You’d even tried staying awake until he’d come home and had barely achieved it.
“I’ll be here when you wake up, angel,” he says, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips. “I missed you tonight, too. Every second that I was at that gala I wished you were with me.”
You smile sleepily as you shuffle down so you can lay down in the bed. Joaquin moves to lay beside you, putting his head on his own pillow, the hand that had been on your face moving to rest on your hip.
“You looked really handsome tonight, baby,” you murmur.
“Thank you, angel,” Joaquin replies softly.
“Next time,” you yawn, unable to stop yourself this time, and shuffle closer to him, burying your head in his chest. “You should negotiate for a plus one.”
Joaquin can’t help but chuckle as he wraps his arm around you. “One step ahead of you, angel.”
~~~
Joaquín Torres Tag List (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!)
Summary: You ask your roommate Joaquin for a favor—but when he finds your little secret friend, he decides to return the favor. Just you, him, and your favorite toy… turning a shitty night around.
Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Female Reader
Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+), masturbation, oral sex (f and m receiving), use of vibrator, light restraint, overstimulation, mirror sex, soft aftercare, established sexual tension, strong language.
Word Count: 3.6K
A/N: I got inspired because I saw a clip from the movie heart eyes of the female character throwing her vibrator in the closet. I haven't scene this movie but I saw a second of that scene and I was already typing this fic. Enjoy!
Read part 2 here
-
“You have a date?” Joaquin leans against the laundry room doorway, sipping a beer, wearing his football jersey and a backwards hat. His favorite team must be playing tonight.
“Yeah,” I say, pushing my bulky comforter into the dryer. “Dean’s in town for a few days.”
“Ah, the Navy pilot.” Joaquin rolls his eyes and steps aside, letting me pass him in the hallway of our shared apartment.
“How do I look? You think this is too much?” I ask, standing in the middle of the hallway. I smooth the hem of the new dress I bought earlier this week—a midnight blue mini that hits mid-thigh, with long sleeves hugging my arms and a square neckline dipping low enough to push my boobs up just a bit. The dress is flirty—the perfect thing to do what I want it to do tonight: get Dean and his marvelous self into my bed after months apart.
I really like Dean. He’s charming, smart, always takes charge when it comes to planning our dates and those spontaneous little trips to another state—usually to one of his family’s vacation homes. It’s been over a year since we started dating, but his Navy schedule was hard to get used to at first.
Joaquin clenches his jaw, scanning me from head to toe. “You look way out of Dean’s league.” He pushes my shoulder playfully and heads toward his bedroom. I follow, my strappy heels clicking against the floor, making me feel taller—sexier.
“Can you be the best roommate ever and make sure my comforter dries, then take it out of the dryer?” Joaquin sits on the edge of his dark blue comforter, and I stand close, looking down at him with my hands on my waist.
I notice him staring, his eyes focused on my cleavage.
“Don’t tell me you’re planning on bringing Dean over,” he groans, throwing himself back onto the bed dramatically. “Doesn’t he have a hotel room he can take you to instead?”
“Can you just do it, please? For me?” I pout, sitting beside him. The dress rides up a little as I do. “I’ll make you lunch for work for a whole week if you help me out.”
He looks at me, debating if it’s worth his time. “Fine. But it better be your carne guisada with white rice,” he grumbles, sighing. I pat his thigh and stand up, feet firm on the wooden floor of his bedroom.
“It’s a deal.” I head to the doorway but pause in the frame and look over my shoulder. His eyes dart from my ass to my eyes quickly, thinking I didn’t notice him checking me out. “I’ll text you when I’m like ten minutes out. Wear your noise-cancelling headphones.” I wink at him and walk toward my bedroom to grab my bag.
I hear my phone ping and suspect it’s a text from Dean telling me he’s outside. I spray a little perfume and make sure my hair isn’t a mess from wrestling with the comforter earlier. I leave my bedroom door wide open and head toward the stairs. I shout back to Joaquin, telling him I’m leaving, and open the door expecting Dean waiting for me by the car—but he waves from inside the car instead.
That’s weird. He always waits for me outside his door and helps me into his expensive car. I shrug it off, locking the door behind me and pushing the thought to the back of my head.
The restaurant Dean chooses is nice. It usually is. Dean always picks somewhere new—somewhere a little over my budget—but he always insists on paying, and I don’t argue with a man who likes to treat his date.
“Do you like the wine I picked out?” Dean asks. He picked it for me, like he usually does.
“I do. It’s soft for a red,” I say, though I’m usually more of a white wine girl. He nods, taking a sip of his own drink. My phone lights up on the table and I glance down at the screen—Joaquin. Dean’s eyes catch the notification and I quickly turn it off before he starts with his insecurities about my boy roommate.
“Congrats on making Lieutenant, by the way. How do you feel?” I ask, trying to shift the conversation.
“Not a big deal. I already knew it was happening,” Dean says with a shrug, eyes skimming the menu, uninterested in keeping the conversation.
My brows knit together. Dean’s been acting off since picking me up. Usually, he waits by the passenger door and opens it for me, but this time he just sat in the car. When we got to the restaurant, he didn’t grab my hand to lead me to our table like he usually would. And he hasn’t said anything about my dress—he always has something to say.
Maybe I’m reading too much into it. “Oh.” That’s all I can say. My eyes fall to the menu in my hands, scanning the main courses even though I’ve lost my appetite. Maybe he’s just hungry. He did just arrive from the airport a few hours ago.
“I wanted to talk to you,” Dean says, reaching across the table to gently push my menu down so I’ll look at him.
“About what?” I tilt my head, leaning in.
“You’re amazing and gorgeous—I mean, look at you tonight.” He smiles, taking my hands into his. “This past year has been fun, but I’m ready to settle down somewhere. Start actually building the life I want.”
“Dean...” I blink, stunned. I wasn’t expecting this tonight, not even this year. We’ve talked about marriage, family, and the future before—but this feels so sudden.
“I’m engaged,” he says, still smiling. The words make my stomach drop. “I proposed a few weeks ago in the Hamptons. I’ve been meaning to break things off with you, but I didn’t want to do it over text or a phone call. You don’t deserve that.”
He rubs his thumb over the back of my hand. I yank it away immediately.
“So calling me earlier this week and inviting me to dinner to tell me you got engaged to someone else was your idea of what I deserve?” I raise my voice, and a few heads turn our way.
“Can you lower your voice, please?” he whispers, glancing around.
“Oh, you don’t want the whole restaurant to hear me call you a fucking dick for dumping me after leading me on for a whole year—all while you were with someone else?” I shoot up to my feet, my chair screeching against the expensive marble floors. I grab the wine glass by the stem and toss the deep red liquid onto his pristine, expensive shirt. “Your wine selection sucks, by the way.”
Dean gasps, scrambling to stand. “You’re a crazy bitch! This is Armani!” His eyes bulge like I’m the insane one here.
“It’s worthless now—just like you, asshole,” I snap, spinning on my heels and marching out. The restaurant falls into stunned silence behind me. The hostess by the door hangs with her mouth agape while the room starts to murmur.
Fuming, I stomp down the sidewalk, heels clicking hard against the pavement. I walk a few blocks away before ordering an Uber—I refuse to be anywhere near that restaurant when Dean leaves. I won’t give him the satisfaction of a last word after what he pulled.
I’m not even heartbroken. I’m just fucking pissed. This man has been seeing someone else all this time, lying to me. Telling me about our future plans. Maybe all this time, this was his plan with me.
When the sweet woman Uber driver drops me off at home, I storm up the small stairs on the porch and unlock the front door. I slam it behind me and toss my bag onto the little entry table. I don’t even bother texting Joaquin that I’m home early. I head straight for the kitchen and grab the sealed bottle of white wine Joaquin bought me a few days ago.
Screw the glass—I take a long sip straight from the bottle. Then I head upstairs, passing Joaquin’s closed door, and go straight to mine. I leave the door open and throw myself face-first onto my bed. The comforter is laid out—nicely. Not the way I would’ve done it, but the effort is there.
At least I can count on my roommate for something.
God, this is not how I imagined tonight going. How pathetic.
Still wearing my dress and heels, I lay back and sip the wine again, trying to erase the whole disaster from my mind.
A soft knock at my open door pulls me from my thoughts. I glance up, propping myself on my elbows, and meet Joaquin’s eyes. He looks at me first—his gaze lingers at my chest before flicking to the bottle in my hand.
“You okay? Did something happen?” he asks. He doesn’t step inside, but the concern in his voice is clear.
I let out a laugh—a small one at first, then louder, almost unhinged. “Dean’s fucking engaged,” I finally manage between fits of laughter.
“Engaged?” Joaquin’s face contorts in confusion, mirroring my own earlier.
“He took me on a date to break up with me because he got engaged a few weeks ago,” I explain, taking another sip.
“What a fucking asshole,” Joaquin mutters, shaking his head. “I never liked him anyway—he was always too cocky.”
“You never like the guys I bring home,” I say, smirking despite everything. “But hey, if you see a video floating around of someone tossing a glass of red wine at a guy in a restaurant with marble floors? That’s me.”
“Good for you. I’m proud.” He chuckles, leaning against my door, still watching me.
“I’m just going to take this amazing dress off, take a shower, burn it, and call it a night.” I rest the wine on my nightstand but don’t get up yet. “Thanks for taking this out of the dryer,” I say, smoothing the comforter.
“You know, you should be careful with what you throw in with your comforter,” he says, a small smirk on his lips. I scrunch my nose, confused. Joaquin doesn’t move, but he pulls out my light blue bullet vibrator from behind his back. “I was about to throw the comforter on your bed when this little guy fell before my feet.”
My eyes go wide and I jump toward him to take it, but he grabs my wrist and hides it out of reach. “Joaquin, come on. I’ve already been embarrassed once tonight.” I try to break free from his grip, but my eyes land on his—dark and filled with something I’ve only seen once before.
My insides flip. The heat of his chest against mine makes my nipples harden beneath the lacy material under my dress.
“I don’t want to make fun of you, I promise.” He leans down, close enough for me to feel his rapid breathing. Jesus. I swallow the whimper in my throat as he pushes me against the door. “You don’t have to spend the rest of the night alone with your toy.” His lips brush my jawline, and I arch my back, bumping my hips into his.
“I don’t want to be alone,” I whisper, my voice small. He shoves the bullet into his pocket, pulls my face close with both hands, and crashes his lips onto mine. I moan into his mouth, my hands sneaking up to his waist and under his shirt, running along the muscles of his toned back.
He pulls me off the door and leads me to my bed without breaking the kiss, his tongue meeting mine. His hand lands on the back of my neck, deepening the kiss even further. The back of my knees hit the mattress, and we fall to the bed. He uses one hand to hold himself up while the other glides over my smooth calves and up the side of my thighs.
I lift my hips, my dress riding up as I grind against his now growing bulge. “Joaquin,” I breathe out. His lips pull away from mine, leaving a trail of kisses down my neck. He bites and licks the swell of my breasts, tugging the material of my dress down to expose my breasts.
I’m grateful I matched my lingerie tonight.
Joaquin bites the lacy material and pulls it aside, freeing my nipple to the cold air. He licks the stiff peak with one slow stroke before pulling it into his mouth. He twirls his tongue around it, sucking hard before releasing it with a pop, then blows cool air over it, smirking as I squirm beneath him. He lifts himself up, kneeling on the mattress. He removes his shirt over his head, and I stare at his perfectly tanned, muscled torso.
I look at him and lick my lips, drinking him in—his lips red and swollen, pupils blown wide, and his cock straining against his grey sweatpants.
Fuck, why haven’t we done this before?
Joaquin grabs my waist and flips me, stomach down onto the mattress. I brace myself on my forearms and arch my back, pressing my ass up for him to use me however he wanted. His fingers trace a slow path along the backs of my thighs as he keeps me spread open with one leg. I glance over my shoulder the moment I hear a low buzz. I bite my lip, watching him trail the cool vibrating bullet over the same path as his fingers. I gasp as he presses it to my lace-covered clit, trying to grind against it, but he holds me still with a firm hand on my hip.
“You’re under my care, baby. Let me praise you.”
Joaquin hovers over my trembling body. The hand on my hip moves to the zipper on the back of my dress. His lips brush behind my ear, pressing wet, sloppy kisses as the zipper slides down with torturous slowness.
He keeps the bullet on the lowest setting, circling my soaked clit slowly, teasingly. He removes the vibrator and peels the dress from my body, tossing it aside. The fabric brushes my sensitive nipples, and I whimper, aching for his touch—but his hands are nowhere on me.
“Patience,” he murmurs against my skin, his lips trailing down my spine. He lowers himself to my core, squeezing my ass cheeks as his nose brushes the lacy fabric covering my wet heat. Joaquin presses his nose against me, inhaling deeply. I fist the pillows, barely holding myself together.
“You smell divine,” he growls, hooking a finger into my lingerie and sliding it down. Cool air hits my exposed sex. Before I can catch my breath, his lips crash into my folds. He spreads me wider, eating me from behind. I moan loudly, my eyes squeezing shut, legs trembling as his tongue sucks my clit, then teases my soaked entrance, pushing inside me.
He turns the vibrator back on and presses it to my clit as his tongue works me open.
“I’m not going to last,” I gasp, my voice catching. I glance at the mirror behind us and see him between my legs, grinding his hips into the mattress, his face buried in my sex. The sight alone makes me shudder.
“Joaquin.” I chant his name, my knuckles turning white around the pillows. He doesn’t stop. He increases the vibrator’s speed, sucking me dry. The sounds—the wetness, the panting, the desperate moans—blur my vision. It’s too good. Too much.
“Baby, too much, please,” I gasp, trying to squirm away.
He pulls back and flips me onto my back. The toy still buzzes against the bedding. He kneels between my legs, his knee digging into the mattress to keep me open. My chest heaves, trying to steady my breath. His lips are wet with me, and he smiles proudly.
“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re a dream.”
I lean forward, desperately grabbing the waistband of his sweats. I need him now—need to feel him stretch me, fill me, cover me. I free him, stroking his length as he looks down, lips parted, sighing at the sensation.
I bring my mouth to his tip, pressing a kiss to it before taking him in. I flatten my tongue to the slit, tasting the salt of his precum. I slide him deeper into my mouth, the tip hitting the back of my throat, my nose brushing his skin.
He fists my hair, holding me in place. I breathe through my nose, one hand bracing on his hip for balance, and suck him slowly. I pull back halfway, wrapping my hand around the rest of his shaft, stroking and licking his cock. He throws his head back, moaning my name.
“You love sucking my cock?” he groans, bucking into my mouth, forcing me to take more. I nod, moaning, cheeks hollowing as I suck harder. “What beautiful noises you make. Look at you—soaking the bed.” He chuckles breathlessly, his knuckles brushing my cheek as his eyes flick to the wet spot behind me. I grind my hips against the sheets, needing friction.
He pulls me away from him, leaving me gasping, teary-eyed. “So pretty.”
This time, I grab his shoulders and shove him onto the bed. I straddle his lap as he watches me. I grab the vibrator from the bed and turn it up a notch. I trail it down his chest slowly, circling a nipple and dragging it to his waist, where my wetness coats his skin.
Now it’s my turn to play.
I do the same to myself—trailing the toy down my chest, teasing each nipple. My walls clench with anticipation. I shiver as I press it to my clit, grinding against him. Joaquin grips my waist, his fingers digging into my skin.
“Fuck,” he swears.
I’m close again, but he grabs my hand and steals the orgasm from me. I cry out in frustration. He switches the toy off and tosses it across the room.
“I’m the one who’s allowed to make you come now. Enough playing.” His voice is rough, commanding.
He lifts my hips, and I line him up. I try to slam down, but he stops me. He keeps full control.
“Please,” I whimper, my hands over his, trying to wrestle control back. He chuckles wickedly—it’s no use. He lets me sink down slowly, the pace killing me. I open my mouth to complain, but he suddenly thrusts upward, leaving me gasping.
I brace my hands on his chest.
“All this for me,” he moans, brows furrowed with restraint. “Jesus, baby.”
He lifts me again and slams me back down. I let him use me, meeting his thrusts mid-air. “I’m not going to last,” I mumble, high on sensation. My eyelids flutter, my legs trembling, the coil inside me about to snap.
Joaquin flips us over and I squeal as my back hits the pillows. He slams into me harder, lifting one leg over his shoulder to spread me wider. I throw my head back, the new angle brushing against a deep, dizzying spot inside me.
His hips snap against mine, the pace relentless. My skin radiates heat and sweat sticks on my skin. I grab the back of his neck and pull him into a kiss, I need to feel him everywhere.
He braces one hand on the headboard as it creaks against the wall. I slip my tongue between his lips—I taste myself on him, and I moan. His hand slips between us and circles my clit while he pounds into me.
And I fall apart without warning, gasping his name and my body convulsing. His forehead presses to mine, our breaths uneasy. I clamp around him as he thrusts sloppily, then groans into my neck as he comes deep inside me.
We lie there panting, his face buried in my neck while I stroke his hair. I feel our mess leaking out as he pulls out and I wince when he gently lowers my leg from his shoulder.
“God,” I pant, my legs trembling. Joaquin slips out of the room and returns with a warm towel. I didn’t even notice he’d pulled his sweatpants back on. He sits at the edge of the bed, spreading my legs and carefully cleaning the mess between them.
I whimper, overstimulated even by his gentle touch. When he’s done, I sit up and rest my chin on his shoulder, his hand on my knee.
“You okay?” I ask. For once, I can’t read his face, and it makes me nervous. Did we just mess everything up?
“Yeah. Are you?” He brushes his thumb across my knee, a touch so soft it makes my heart skip.
“Fuck, why haven’t we done this before?” I blurt and he laughs. “You’ve been hiding this from me,” I tease, dragging my nails down his back.
“I’m sorry for what happened with Dean tonight.” He leans in, pressing a kiss on my cheek.
“It’s okay. I’m out of his league anyway.” I laugh softly.
I stand up from the bed, and my jello legs almost betray me, but Joaquin keeps me balanced on my feet with a steady hand on my waist.
“We should order in. I’m starving.” I pick up his jersey from the floor and throw it over my body, too lazy to grab something from my closet.
Joaquin licks his lips, looking at me. He stands up from my bed, and his chest meets my back. A hand roams from my chest up to my neck. He leans my face back and catches my lips for a slow tongue kiss.
My hand lands on top of his, the one holding my neck, and if he didn’t have me pressed against his chest, my legs would’ve given out. He pulls away and looks down at me, and I smile already tipsy from him alone.
“Yeah, let’s fuel you up, because I’m not done with you,” he says, smacking my ass and leading me downstairs to the kitchen.
You weren’t expecting anything dramatic to happen today.
That morning, you’d shown up to The Daily Bugle in your favorite pinstripe trousers, combat boots polished and clunking confidently down the halls, matching little vest over a shirt sleeve button up, with a cardigan draped lazily over your shoulders. You were fresh-faced, your lip gloss intact, and for once, your coffee hadn’t betrayed you with a bitter burn or sudden splash across your blouse. It was, all things considered, a normal day.
Which made what Lois Lane said all the more jarring.
It started in the break room. You’d both ducked in for your mid-afternoon pick-me-up—you with an hazelnut latte and a chocolate éclair almost the size of your hand, and Lois with her usual two creams, no sugar, and a tired sigh that had nothing to do with caffeine. The room buzzed faintly with the broken vending machine’s hum and the distant clatter of typing fingers from the bullpen. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a sleepy, honey-glazed glow across the linoleum floor that’d flickered briefly, and for a moment, it was peaceful.
“You doing anything tonight?” You asked between bites of your pastry, lips sticky with chocolate as you tapped your nails on the table. “Want to come over and watch Love Island while we finish some work? I’m finally caught up, and I need someone to scream with.”
It was an innocent and simple question. Something she didn’t even mull over before the words spilled rom her lips. But she felt like she should’ve when Lois didn’t answer. Not right away.
You didn’t notice at first, too absorbed in the perfection of your eclair. But a few seconds of silence dragged on too long, and when you looked up, she was still stirring her coffee in an almost trance like state, the tiny creamer pot abandoned and untouched beside her. “What’s wrong?” You asked, brows pinching. You tilted your head slightly, sensing something you couldn’t name yet.
“It’s nothing.” She replied quickly. A little too quickly. Her voice was airy, obviously covering up a lie as if trying to brush something under a very obvious rug. She reached for the forgotten creamer, adding it to her mug with forced precision. “Seriously. Just tired.” She muttered.
“Lo.” You nudged her calf with your boot under the table. “Don’t lie to me. Spill.” You demanded.
She visibly hesitated, shoulders twitching like she was reeling something in—words, maybe. Or courage.
Then finally, she gulped. “It’s just that—your place is kind of… intimate.”
You pulled back in your seat, confusion and shock written all over your face. You couldn’t even utter anything, didn’t even have the time to think of what to say, before the raven haired woman continued. “I mean, not that it makes me uncomfortable!” She rushed to add, hands lifting defensively. “I just… I don’t know. I feel like I’m intruding when I’m there.” She shrugged nervously.
Your mouth parted slightly, eclair long forgotten, the corners of your mind starting to spiral. What had made her uncomfortable? The couch? The music that blasted from Johnny’s room? Did your air freshener make her nauseous or something?
“What do you mean?” You asked cautiously, already halfway convinced you’d accidentally violated some obscure guest code you had no idea about. Besides the fact that you lived with four adult men.
Lois was quiet, lips pursed tight, eyes darting toward the half-peeled sticker on her coffee mug like it had all the answers. She looked like someone deciding whether to cut the red wire or the blue one as she tried to decide on a way to deliver the news without making the tense atmosphere in the break room even more weird.
“You and your roommates.” She said finally, looking up to make eye contact with you, watching as you blinked, brows twitching in confusion.
“Huh?”
“You and your roommates.” Lois repeated, this time looking you square in the eye. “You guys are so..comfortable with one another. So…close. Like, close close. So much so that I feel like I’m intruding when I’m around you guys.”
You blinked, brows inching upward. “What?” You were so shocked, that those seemed to be the only words you were able to deliver. Your mouth gaped open upon her claims as you sat up in your seat in shock, trying to find anything to convey your plethora of emotions. “Lois, what the hell are you talking about?” You asked, letting out s chortle in disbelief.
Lois rolled her eyes and leaned. “Oh, come on. You cannot tell me you don’t see how close you guys are.” She said, delivering it in a way like she was telling you you’d been living under a rock your entire life.
“Lo, I’ve known those guys since freshman year of university. And they’ve known each other practically their whole lives. Of course we’re close, we’re bound to be. That’s not weird.”
“Not close how you guys are.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s not a normal close.” She insisted. “It’s weirdly close.”
You laughed, half-out of disbelief, half-out of nerves. “Weird how?” You asked, crossing your arms.
“You really want me to tell you how?” Lois questioned, giving you a deadpan look.
“Yes.”
“Okay. I’ll tell you how.” She said, crossing her arms like she’d been waiting for you to ask. “Remember when Jimmy and I came over for drinks a few months ago?”
“Vaguely.” You winced.
“And Johnny—who owns that ridiculous bar cart, by the way—was mixing cocktails and feeding you fruit from the garnish tray?” She explained, and you opened your mouth to argue, but stopped.
Because suddenly, the memory unspooled in vivid detail.
⸻
It was months ago, nearly a year on one of those cozy spring nights—rain tapping against the flats floor-to-ceiling windows, but none of you cared. The warm glow of the kitchen lights reflected on the sleek counters, and Johnny was in his element behind the bar, dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, whilst Jimmy talked animatedly about the time he’d bartended a runway party in Paris.
Johnny walked over, placing martini glasses in front of you. “Your drinks.” He grinned.
“Ooo.” Lois grinned, pulling the steel skewer lined with raspberry’s from the drink, taking one into her mouth as Jimmy sipped his with a content nod. You were perched beside the bar when Johnny leaned in, plucked a skewer of raspberries from your martini glass, and gently held one out.
Without a second thought, you inched forward and took the berry off the pin with your mouth. He didn’t say a word as his finger bushed your chin—just smirked faintly, watching you chew, as his eyes flickered from your lips to your eyes like he was trying to memorize the taste of the fruit on your tongue. You’d looked away, lips tilted in amusement at something Jimmy said, tossing a playful jab his way, and the moment passed as quickly as it came.
⸻
You blinked, eyes snapping back to Lois. “Johnny’s just… affectionate like that. He grew up with a loving sister, that’s just how he shows love his love.” You explained, causing Lois to deadpan you. “Uh-huh.” She said, unconvinced. “Okay. What about the time I came to pick you up for our shopping trip and you walked out of Peter’s room?”
“I was looking for my charger.”
“And then Peter walked out right after you. In nothing but a towel.”
“He had just showered but he decided to help me!” You protested. “And he didn’t know you were there! To be fair, I didn’t know you were there! Bob let you in without telling me. I’m so sorry if that made you feel uncomfortable.”
Lois held up her hands. “I’m not judging.” She affirmed. “I’m really not. It’s just—every time I’m at your place, I feel like I’m interrupting something. You and Bob have these little glances like you’re reading each other’s minds. Joaquin always makes you your tea before you ask for it. Peter fluffs your pillows before you sit if you didn’t know. And Johnny looks at you like he’s two seconds from eating you.”
You sat up, jaw slack, blinking rapidly like the room had tilted without warning.
“I…” You tried. “That’s not…”
She raised a brow.
You exhaled, flustered, feeling heat creep up your neck. “They’re just… like that.”
“With you.”
The words hung heavy in the stale break room air. You didn’t say anything for a moment. Neither did Lois. She just sipped her coffee, letting you sit in the swirling fog of revelation.
You’d always known you and the boys were close. You were roommates, best friends. You shared a space, a history, a learned rhythm. You never really questioned the little touches, the glances, the late-night check-ins and shared beds during thunderstorms or times where you just simply felt like it. You didn’t think about how Peter let you almost climb onto him whenever you were scared, or how Joaquin made your tea just the way you liked it without being asked, or how Johnny always made sure your towel was warm before handing it to you after forgetting it again, and how Bob could sense your mood before you spoke and wordlessly slide you into his favorite hoodie for comfort.
It wasn’t strange. It was just how your home operated.
But now…
Now, every memory felt heavier with intimacy, maybe even romance.
Your heart thudded quietly.
“You’re overthinking it.” You said finally, but your voice wavered.
Lois smiled softly, knowingly. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re underthinking it.” She said, watching by as you looked back down at your untouched food.
The chocolate on your eclair was no longer glossy and molten but dull and firm with the chill of the break room air. Your once-steaming coffee sat forgotten at your side, now nothing more than a sad, bitter puddle. This was not how you’d envisioned your fifteen-minute coffee break—especially not one that ended with your brain spinning and your appetite destroyed.
You barely noticed when the door creaked open again and Jimmy Olsen poked his head in, brows raised. “You two know you’re, like, fifteen minutes over, right? The meeting’s starting.”
Both you and Lois jolted at that, heads whipping from the wall clock and then down to your watches for a double check. Time had sprinted past quicker than expected.
“Shit.” You muttered, gathering your papers and your thoughts as quickly as possible—which, frankly, wasn’t very fast. You’d have a clearer mind walking into that meeting if you’d actually eaten. Instead, you were heading to a full-staff boardroom with an empty stomach and a full head of increasingly confusing thoughts.
Which, as you already knew from experience, was a recipe for pure disaster.
The elevator ride up to the fifteenth floor was spent in silence—Jimmy humming to himself, Lois quiet and side-glancing at you like she was afraid you might bolt or explode, and you were trapped in your own brain. Again. The moment the doors slid open, the newsroom’s upper offices buzzed with movement, phones ringing and heels clicking. You walked mechanically toward the boardroom, located dead center on the floor and enclosed in sleek, frosted glass.
You stepped in one after the other. The room was already mostly full—senior editors, a few columnists, layout heads, and the fresh interns pretending not to panic. You settled into your usual seat next to Lois, setting your briefcase down and opening your folder like a well oiled machine. Your hands moved, but your brain wasn’t really there.
It was still in the break room, stunned in the dingy chair at the leaning table in the corner. Still circling the phrase: You guys are…close.
You were staring at your notes, though not really reading them, fingers absently thumbing the edge of a sticky tab. It wasn’t until Lois gently laid a hand on your shoulder that you startled, blinking yourself out of autopilot.
“What?” You asked out of reflex, your voice monotone. “Oh. I’m fine. Just… hungry.” You added with an strained smile.
Lois didn’t press. But her eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before she leaned back in her chair—right as the glass doors flew open and the tornado known as J. Jonah Jameson barreled in.
“Let’s go, let’s go! We don’t have all damn day!” He barked, tossing a thick manila folder onto the table with enough force to make one of the interns jump.
You sat up a little straighter, forced your lips into something like a line, and braced yourself for what was always a high-volume half-hour.
“First thing’s first.” Jameson began, pacing the room like a general. “Spider-Man’s not the only masked menace swinging around this city anymore.”
He hit a button on the sleek tablet beside him, and the conference screen on the wall lit up with blurry footage—midair photos of what looked like a man engulfed in flames hurtling across the Manhattan skyline. The next frame was clearer: a tall figure in a high-tech suit with wings spread wide, grounded only long enough to punch out a crew of armed thieves behind an abandoned dock.
You swallowed hard.
Because you knew those silhouettes. You knew the way the fire curled like a wave, leaving behind a trail of smoke, was when Johnny got cocky in the air. You knew the arc of Joaquin’s wings like the shape of your own palm. You had washed soot out of both of their suits more times than you could count.
“This guy,” Jameson growled, zooming in on the fire-blurred figure, “Has been torching half the rooftops on the West Side. And this one—” He pointed to Joaquin’s mid-air frame, “Thinks he’s the new Iron Man or something doing street work in place of cops. I want names. I want stories. I want dirt. We’re gonna get out ahead of this vigilante nonsense.”
The words kept coming, but you didn’t hear them.
Because the thoughts Lois planted in your head were now loud and complicated and banging around your chest like live wires.
You’d spent so much time pretending—pretending you didn’t know who Spider-Man was, pretending you didn’t recognize the “new faces,” pretending your home wasn’t full of makes identities and high tech laundry covered in whatever unexplained scenario those boys had gotten themselves into. And you were good at pretending. You’d convinced everyone else.
Except maybe yourself.
Because suddenly, pretending felt exhausting.
Now more than ever, you had the urge to scream who they were from the rooftops. Maybe it was because of the constant thoughts Lois put into your head while those exact men fought crime on the large screen in front of you. Or maybe, it was the fact that your stomach was beginning to tighten from hunger, while those same exact thoughts of intimate closeness with said roommates flooded your mind. Either way, your attention was only focused on the men you shared an apartment with.
And Lois’s words? They just kept echoing within your mind.
You guys are…close.
You didn’t even notice when the meeting ended. Which was ironic, given how Jameson’s meetings usually felt like a marathon through hell with his booming voice. But somehow, twenty-five minutes passed in a blur, and now your coworkers were packing up and moving on. So you copied their actions, gathering your things in a hurry to exit the now stuffy establishment.
You only blinked back to reality only when Jameson pointed at you from across the room.
“My brightest.” He said, wagging a thick finger. “I expect something good from you.” He praised, and you could only give a tight, awkward smile. “Yes, sir.” You said with a stiff nod. He smiled before he was gone, trailing a stream of assistants and interns behind him like flys to a block of honey.
You were about to follow when Lois gently shut the glass door before you could slip out, now leaving only the two of you in the room.
“Okay, what’s up?” She asked, her tone gentler now, arms folded and brow knit with concern.
“What do you mean?” You replied, feigning confusion, but your voice cracked slightly.
Lois gave you a look. The kind that only best friends or sisters or very, very observant people could manage.“You’re like an open book. I can tell when something’s up.”
You hesitated. You two stared at each other for a few seconds before you cracked, letting out a long, frayed sigh, and dropping your things onto the table.
“Come on.” Lois urged as she stepped closer.
“Well, for starters, I’m gradually becoming hangry.” You began dryly, bringing your hand up to rub your forehead out of anxious stress. “But also…” You hesitated, then added in a rush. “I can’t stop thinking about everything you said.”
Lois winced at your quick onslaught of words. “If I’d known it would stress you out like this—”
“No! No, I’m glad you said it.” You interrupted. “But now I feel stupid.” You were quick to explain as you began to pace around the room, doing anything to avoid her blue irises that seemed to stare deep into you. “Like… what does all of this mean? Is it me? Is it them? Is it just Johnny and Peter? I can’t even begin to wonder what’s going on.”Your pacing had resumed, heavy boots tapping a steady rhythm across the polished floor. You stopped suddenly, eyes locking with hers. “What else have you seen?”
Lois’s eyes went wide as she began shaking her head. “Oh, no. No, no-“
“No, tell me.” You urged, stepping closer, borderline desperate.
“You’re spiraling.”
“I know! That’s why I need more detail. Please.” You pleaded. But then froze before stepping back, trying to appear less manic, arms crossed like that would hold everything inside. “I have to know, is there anything else you’ve seen.” You asked, trying to appear calm.
Lois groaned softly but relented. “Okay, fine. That one time Bob kept bringing us tea while we were doing research at your place?”
You nodded. “Yeah?”
“And then he sat down just to be near you. And fell asleep next to you. On the floor. With his hand in your lap.”
You blinked.
And there it was again—another memory surfacing like a warm breath caressing cold skin.
You remembered now. Sitting on the floor surrounded by city maps and vigilante sightings. Bob curled on a pillow beside you, head resting comfortably close. His hand—warm, gentle against your thigh, resting against your thigh like it belonged.
Lois saw the recognition dawn in your eyes.
“And Joaquin?” She continued with a short laugh. “Don’t even get me started.” She said, throwing her hands up in disbelief. And you closed your eyes, knowing where this one was going.
“I know, I know. You all thought—“
“I swear the whole office thought you two were dating.” Lois finished, looking at you with a hint of amusement in her eyes.
You groaned. “Don’t start.”
“Start?” Lois echoed. “He used to bring you lunch every day when you first started working here. With a fat kiss on the cheek.”
“It wasn’t a fat kiss.” You mumbled.
“It was a fat kiss.” She said firmly. “And don’t forget—you made him stop. You would get jealous when the others would ogle at him. That’s why you told him to stop.”
Now that caused you to gape at her. “I didn’t tell him to stop because I was jealous.” You protested, though your voice faltered.
“Then why did you tell him to stop?”
You paused. “Because… it was distracting! First, the office turned into a viewing party every time he showed up and surrounded around the door when I’m just trying to get my food. And you know how I get when I’m hungry.”
“Yes I do.” Lois said with a smirk as she watched you ramble.
“And second, you know Joaquin. He gets a big head, and quickly. Strangers calling him pretty boy didn’t help the atmosphere of my home.” You finished.
Then you and Lois stood there for a minute. You both stood there in the silence that followed. And it happened slowly—so slowly you almost didn’t feel it. But the realization began to settle. A shift in the way the air moved around you. Like a truth finally finding its way into the light. The raven haired woman watched as everything settled, the look of realization washing over your face. And you almost look petrified.
Lois stepped closer, softer now. “Hey. I’m not judging you by any means. If anything…” She shrugged. “I say go for it. I don’t even know with who. Hell, don’t choose. Have fun. Those men are fine, and they adore you, plus’s you all live together. But—”
Your eyes widened as you took a shaky step back. “I have to go!” You mean to whisper, but it came out in a stunned tone that was louder than you meant it to be.
Then you were gone—grabbing your bag and rushing out the door before Lois could even blink. She flinched at your sudden movements, and before she knew it, you were out of the room.
By the time she snapped out of her stunned trance and stepped out into the hallway, the elevator doors at the end of the hall were closing behind you. The office was still, save for the click of heels echoing down the corridor, people muttering in your wake of sudden nerves.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅
The cab ride home from Midtown felt like the closing scene of a war film. A lone soldier, battle-weary and bruised—not on the outside, but inside, where things ached far worse—staring blankly out the window while the city pulsed on around her, mind plagued with unwanted thoughts. The car jolted gently in the five o’clock crawl of Manhattan traffic. But truthfully, the traffic was eternal. New York didn’t know peace, and in that moment, neither did she.
The back seat was cracked leather, its age and wear pressing into her skin through the fabric of her tight slacks. The air smelled like a stale combination of old peppermint, car freshener, and coffee breath, and the balding cab driver seemed mercifully uninterested in conversation. He’d caught her dull expression and stiff demeanor in the mirror once—maybe twice—and after that, left her to her own stillness. No words were exchanged after the small uttered greeting when she first entered and told him her destination.
Now no one spoke.
But your mind was loud.
Louder than the sirens down the street, louder than the honking cab two lanes over, louder than the thoughts you tried so hard to suffocate. You sat there, barely blinking as your mind traversed through every single interaction you’ve had with your roommates. The men you’ve known since collage. You would blink hard to get rid of those thoughts, but Lois words always drifted back, picking at the back of your cerebellum no matter where you tried to force your mind to go.
You had tried to think about normal things. Like: What should I eat first when I get home?
But that one spiraled fast. The thought of dinner had turned to Joaquin, warm and radiant, still in his cute duck-printed apron, dishing out your plate first with a flourish like they were dining in some upscale bistro. His head was close to yours, leaning over your chair as he described the meal with a chef’s affection. He always remembered everything—every allergy, every preference. And he poured your wine like he knew how much of a day you’d had before even opening your mouth.
Stop it, you thought, blinking hard, as if that could knock the image loose from your brain.
Okay, next thought: What am I gonna watch tonight before bed?
Cue the memory of Johnny and Bob flanking your sides in the living room, all three of you buried in the kind of comfort that made you forget the world outside even existed. It was Christmas time last year, all of you decked in matching facemasks, s’mores still sticky on your fingertips. Johnny was roasting marshmallows mid-air with a flick of his hand while Bob curled into your side. You had been wearing Johnny’s oversized black t-shirt and Grinch flannel pajama pants—the ones that technically belonged to him but somehow lived in your drawer now. And he was wearing something similar, the top of the Grinch set with grey joggers. You all watched Sweeney Todd. Not a Christmas movie. But a tradition, nonetheless.
You adjusted yourself in the seat, visibly flinching at the sickeningly sweet thought as the old leather creased loudly under you. The cabbie didn’t even blink. He’d probably seen worse than a silent mental breakdown in his backseat.
Okay. Okay. Shower. I’ll just take an everything shower to clear my mind.
That thought seemed to ground you. Showers were neutral and calming for you. And thinking of the calming shower turned into you wanting it to be a bath, and that seemed tamed. You loved a nice bath. You thought of the hot water, filled with your jasmine scented bubble soap and maybe even some essential oils and a moisturizing bath bomb. You simply loved a good bath.
And that’s what did it. Suddenly it became a shared bath. Because you knew someone who loved a good bath as well. Someone you caught once, having a soothing bubble bath in your bathroom rather than the main one. And you swore to never tell.
But suddenly, you were imagining Peter sitting opposite her in the tub—candles flickering, making the lightening dim. The smell of honeysuckle filing the air as petals floated in the steaming water. A little bath tray set between them with a bottle of wine in an ice bucket that they would simply pass between one another to drink from, that and a dish of chocolate-covered blueberries—your shared favorite. Your feet in his lap, his thumb rubbing idle circles into your arch while he watched Breaking Bad on an iPad and you read a book, glasses slipping down her nose.
She nearly yelped, jumping out of your skin at the thought.
That wasn’t even a memory. You and Peter have never done such a thing. That was a fantasy—a full-on fantasy of her roommate. A bathtub…dream?
Lois words were digging so far within your mind that you were now imagining scenarios. Fantasizing.
You stared harder out the window, willing the city to disappear. And just as panic began to collect in the back of your throat, the cab pulled up the apartment building, bathed in soft orange light from the sinking sun.
You didn’t even wait for the driver to fully stop the car before you shoved a few folded bill into the front seat, mumbling a quick “Thanks.” And launching yourself out into the sidewalk breeze.
Your mind was still in chaos of heat and tension, so tangled with thoughts of them that you barely even registered climbing the steps to the shared Manhattan loft. Everything was dull as you passed the doorman, the desk clerk and made it to the elevator, on autopilot as you pressed the top floor of the building and waisted. You were in such a rush, and so in your head, that you didn’t even hesitate to enter your home. You entered quickly once off the elevator, letting the door shut behind you with a click that echoed in your spine.
Once the door closed behind you, your back was pressed against it, letting out a sigh as you closed your eyes. And that was your first mistake.
“Ah, Y/N.” Came Bob’s gentle voice from the stairs. “You’re here.” As soon as you entered the flat, you were immediately ambushed. Bob, who was coming down the stairs near the door, beamed softly at the sight of you.
He smiled the way only Bob Reynolds could smile—like he was genuinely happy to see you back home.
He didn’t even pay any mind to your still frame as he walked over, lifting you from where you slumped against the door and pulling you into a tight, warm hug. He hummed, his hands rubbing against your back as you returned the hug, simultaneously coming out of your boots. You melted into him without protest.
He smelled like laundry detergent and cedarwood, his hands wide as they rubbed comfort into your back. Your boots slipped off one by one. The wooden floor was cold against your sock clad feet, sending chills up your skin that was offset by Bob’s hug that was grounding and warm. You couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh at the feeling of his arms that brought you comfort.
“You’re late.” He said, pulling back with a deadpan look—before a lazy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “But you’re also just in time. Joaquin and Johnny are almost done with dinner.”
Before you could respond, Bob was already taking your coat and scarf with practiced ease, lifting your briefcase out of your hand and setting it all—gently, but definitely not carefully—by the front door, not even bothering to hang any of it up.
“C’mon.” He said. “You look tired. Let’s get you to the couch before the good spots are gone.”
You barely managed a nod, your mind still too full. You passed the kitchen on the way, his large hand on the small of your back, and sure enough—
“Ah, ¡Bebé!” Joaquin grinned, spinning from the stove with the kind of joy that could cure headaches. His cute duck apron had flour on it and his hands were busy. But he always made time for you. “You’re home!” He gushed as he bounded over, placing a kiss on each cheek, hands cradling your jaw. “Your later than usual, you better not have eaten out. I’ll be offended.” He said, playing stern as he placed his hands on his hips. You simply shook your head, not able to even register any words from the constant overflow you’ve been feeling since break time at work.
You then blinked at him, wheels still cupped in his hands.
“No?” He asked, narrowing his eyes. “Good. I made your favorite.” He said. His fingers lingered a beat longer than he needed to, soft beneath your chin. “I’ll go get the wine you like.” He said, then he winked and turned his back to you before heading to the cellar in the pantry.
Bob chuckled, steering you again with a hand at the small of your back. You barely had the energy to wonder if he always touched you like that.
The couch accepted your weight like a long lost friend. Your favorite corner, already waiting for you, pulled you in like gravity. Bob sat at the other end, picked up your legs, and draped them over his lap as if that had always been your place. He then grabbed the remote and bickered through options to see what you guys could watch as you waited for dinner.
“Let’s watch…Friday the 13th, Jason Lives.” He decided. “We’re watching Jason Lives.” He grinned, a slight nod in his head as he clicked the movie. You gave him a look—tired, but amused but nonetheless didn’t question it, used to Bob.
The movie had barely started when Peter padded out from his room, eyes sleepy and hair tousled. You couldn’t tell if he’d been napping or brooding over his lab desk with a new machine of his in the dark, but either way, he looked like a dream. He rounded the back of the couch, scanning the scene—Bob eyes focused on the television as he rubbed your feet, you looking up at him, connecting eyes as you took down your updo— he eased and grabbed your hand, gently taking the claw clip from your fingers.
He gave your hand a squeeze. A soft, quiet hello. Something you were used to exchanging with him when neither of you were in the mood to speak.
Then he played with your fingers. Idly. Almost lovingly. Twisting your rings, tracing the lines of your knuckles, smiling faintly at a little freckle you always forgot you had. This was silent conversation between you two, something you were used to.
“Dinner’s ready!” Johnny called from the kitchen. “Don’t make me come carry you, Sleeping Beauty!” He instantly jabbed at you, seeing your splayed figure on the couch as Peter and Bob fondled at different appendages of your body.
You didn’t move right away.
Because right then, as your eyes flicked from Johnny’s teasing voice, to Joaquin’s warm smile, to Bob’s steady touch, to Peter’s hand in yours—
You realized something. Something Lois had been trying to tell you.
This was……intimate.
And suddenly, you weren’t sure if you were drowning or floating.
But all you did know was that you didn’t need saving.
