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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 6 months

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A Rarity

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~900

Warnings: fluff

Summary: You have a rare genetic code called heterochromia. You have two different colored eyes that you have tried to suppress ever since you got seriously bullied in middle school. Just when you're about to present a case, you find your contact case is missing.

Square Filled: friends with benefits (2022) for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

Today is the day you start your new job as the team’s liaison. You’ve always been part of this since JJ was the main person to deal with it. However, she’s been promoted to profiler which means all the slack now falls on your shoulders. You love interacting with families and comforting them when they most need it.

This is the first case when it’s just going to be you, so you’re kind of nervous about it. Before going into the briefing room, you decide to touch up on your makeup and hair as if you’re going in front of millions on the TV to present the case. You take out your contacts and leave them to rehydrate on your desk while you go to the bathroom to fix your makeup.

Once you’re done, you make sure not to look into anyone’s eyes as you make your way back to your desk. The first thing you do is put away your makeup. The second thing you do is grab your contacts to put them back in but they’re not where you left them.

“Shit,” you curse and go through your entire desk. “No, this isn’t happening.”

You’re panicking at the thought of not having your contacts. You don’t need them to see, in fact, you have 20/20 vision. No, you use them only for color because you have a rare thing called heterochromia. Your right eye is bright blue and your left is bright green. You were born with two different eye colors. No one in your family has this genetic but you, so you have no idea where it came from.

Ever since you were enrolled in school, you were bullied for your eyes. It didn’t start getting bad until middle school when kids were more focused on appearances than learning and making friends. Kids in elementary school actually found them to be cool but only because they were little kids who didn’t know any better.

Your peers made you hate this part of you even though you can’t do anything about it. As soon as you started high school, you begged your mom to get you colored contacts. You’ve been wearing them ever since even into your adult years. You choose a natural blue to make yourself look more normal. Had you not had those, you would for sure get bullied even worse than in middle school.

The longer you went wearing them the more people thought your eyes were just one color. No one at work knows about this or so you thought. The only person who might know about this is Spencer but that’s only because you two have been friends with benefits for quite some time now. It helps to have one to work off the stress from work. Plus, he’s an amazing lover so there’s a plus.

You two aren’t dating just fucking a lot.

While he was getting ready this morning at your place, you were in the bathroom rushing to do your makeup. You hadn’t put your contacts in just yet so if he were to walk in the bathroom, he’d see your eyes for what they truly are. He was getting ready and peeked through the open door to see if you were close to being done when he saw the beauty in your eyes. He didn’t say anything about it so as not to embarrass you.

He walks into the bullpen from the break room to see you panicking.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Where are my contacts? I just had them on my desk.”

“I didn’t know you wore contacts,” he lied. You refuse to look at him without them in. “I’m sure it’ll be alright. You have glasses, right?”

“Yes, but--”

“But what? What’s the problem?”

“Never mind,” you groan and continue looking for them.

“Hey, look at me.” When you don’t, he sets his coffee down on the desk and grabs your chin gently. He makes you look at him but you close your eyes so he doesn’t see their colors. “Open your eyes.”

“No,” you shake your head.

“Darling, open your eyes,” he says gently.

He would be the person to find out eventually. You sigh and open your eyes to show him the rarity you have. Now that he gets to see them up close, he’s falling more in love with you. You might not have feelings for him but he certainly has them for you. He only keeps you as a fuck buddy because if he were to tell you the truth, he might lose you.

“What beautiful eyes you have.”

“They’re ugly,” you sigh and pull away from him.

“Who told you that?”

“Everyone I’ve ever known,” you scoff. You look at your watch and notice the time. “Shit, I have to give the case out.”

“No one is going to notice.”

“Are you kidding me? They’re so bright. They stand out.”

“Fine, if they make comments, I’ll handle it.”

You have no choice but to go in there without your contacts. You sigh and grab your things before heading to the briefing room with Spencer. Everyone is already in there waiting so you immediately get started. As you’re talking, you notice Spencer watching you with a smile on his face.

“You’re beautiful,” he mouths to you.

Your cheeks heat up but you don’t let it show how happy he makes you. The briefing only lasts thirty minutes before Hotch announces wheels up. When everyone is packing up to get out of there, you notice something sticking out of Spencer’s back pocket.

Your contact case. You want to be mad at him for taking it but maybe it’s time to let your rarity shine.

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avis-writeshq · 5 months

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07 — wildest dreams

summary: “he’s so tall, and handsome as hell”/”his hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room.” pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, slow burn warnings: rated 16+ for lots of kissing hehehe, reader wears a dress + makeup, a final ‘eff u!!’ to jeid LOL wc: 3.3k a/n: we have finally reached the end! thank you all so much for your support during this little project 😚💕 massive thank you to @astrophileous for beta-reading this entire project! congratulations again for finishing your thesis!! SERIES MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

Spencer yawns softly as he steps out of bed, running his fingers through his unruly hair. He finally got it cut a few days ago and, even though it’s a lot shorter than what he is used to, he really likes it. After putting on his shirt that has fallen haphazardly to the floor the previous night, he walks into the kitchen to fix himself a cup of tea.

He stirs the sugar with a spoon tiredly, his vision blurry from both the lack of sleep and the lack of glasses. The muscles of his thighs quiver with each step and he grimaces. Maybe he should start working out with Morgan. He dismisses the thought immediately. He still wants to live.

He’s about to go back into the room when a pair of arms wrap tightly around his middle, and he lets out a breathless laugh. “Hey, angel.”

You grunt out a noncommittal greeting, your forehead resting between his shoulderblades as you continue to hug him. “Why’d you go?”

“I was thirsty,” he responds, turning around to hug you back. You’re wearing one of his t-shirts that you stole and he glows with pride, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “What’re you doing up, darling?”

“You left,” you respond groggily, leaning into his touch. “Got cold.”

Spencer, as you have learned, is essentially a human furnace. He exudes so much warmth both figuratively and literally that you have saved probably hundreds of dollars in electricity bills. He is so unbelievably warm and he always gives the best hugs, wrapping his arms around your frame and tracing circles into your skin.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, kissing the side of your face. “Go back to bed, angel. I’ll be there in a second, okay?”

You merely nod in response, reaching up and planting a firm kiss to his chin before padding back into your room, burying yourself under the covers. He arrives soon after, shuffling closer to you and pulling you in so that your nose is against his sternum. His fingers find the knots in your hair, skillfully and carefully untangling them. He feels you yawn as he continues his ministrations, and he presses yet another kiss to your head.

“You should move in,” you mumble against his chest, creeping a hand up under his shirt and brushing your nails against his spine.

He shudders at the contact, a quiet groan leaving his lips. “Yeah? You think I should move in?”

It is within moments like these where it becomes glaringly obvious that Spencer is no longer the naive ‘kid’ he was when he began working at the BAU. He’s grown into himself now, filling out his dress shirts better and wearing an easy smile on his face. Spencer has always been attractive, all of the girls who loved him before are a testament to that (no matter how bitter you are when coming to this realisation), but he’s now a lot more comfortable with it. He likes to say that you are a big part of that journey. You would simply tell him that the growth was his to make.

“You basically already live here,” you tell him. “It’s close to the train station and there’s that good Thai place across the road.”

“I’d love to move in with you,” he says softly, stroking your cheeks. He’s had an affinity for your cheeks since he first met you, poking at them teasingly and you would do the same in retaliation. Now, he can let his touches linger. “Really. I can get the rest of my things here by the end of the week.”

“It’s Wednesday.”

He smiles. “Exactly.”

You yawn again, your eyes squeezing closed so tightly that an unnecessary tear slips past the corner of your eye. Spencer wipes it away with his thumb before kissing your nose, relishing in the way you let out a breathless laugh.

“I love you,” he whispers, his lips brushing against yours.

You beam at him, kissing him softly. “I love you.”

***

“And it’s like, if you don’t want to get yelled at, don’t come late to every single shift that you have, y’know?” You complain from your bedroom, pushing your lashes upwards with the side of your finger. You’re leaning over your new white vanity, forgoing the chair, as you try to keep your lashes up. “I mean, I get that this is her first time doing work experience, but come on she isn’t nine. And get this, babe, she doesn’t even have a phone. She’s seventeen years old doing work experience and she doesn’t have a phone. I have to remind her of her shifts through her mother. Do you know how awkward that is?”

Spencer hums as he does up his tie, coming up from behind you and and glancing at you for a moment. “She doesn’t sound like someone who wants to be doing work experience, angel.”

“I swear she’s only doing this because it’s compulsory at her high school,” you lament, turning around to face him. “And she is so rude. You should have heard what she said to Veronica, Walter, it was insane. Like, she swore in front of a client. In front of a child.”

His nose scrunches up at your words, resting his hands on your waist and stroking up and down with his thumbs, feeling your curves through the pretty dress you picked out. “You should fire her.”

“Legally I cannot,” you say with a huff. “But I’m pretty sure she’s going to quit or something. ‘Ronica will let me know, and honestly, good riddance.”

He laughs as he kisses your forehead. “I don’t doubt it, angel.”

You smile at him, no longer disgruntled from your frustrating coworker. “You look really good,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“You look exquisite,” is his quick response, continuing to stroke up and down along your sides. He kisses you slowly, one hand moving to cup your neck and holding you there. “Is this a new dress?”

“Got it for forty bucks,” you say with a grin. “This boutique was having a sale downtown. Guess how much this used to be.”

He laughs at your enthusiasm, kissing you again. “How much?”

“One hundred and twenty,” you say giddily as you straighten his tie. “That’s a steal, right? So I bought two more dresses the same price. That’s like, two free dresses, y’know? Girl maths.”

Spencer can’t help but smile as you tell him all about your shopping spree, his pointer finger dragging up and down your jaw. He doesn’t have the heart to correct you about the inaccuracies of whatever ‘girl maths’ is, instead choosing to nod along. “Yeah?”

You nod with a silly smile. “Yeah! And I figured that I might as well get JJ and Will’s wedding gift while I was out and I got these super cute wine glasses and–”

He cuts you off with a kiss, his fingers delving into your once neat updo, and his mouth pressing firmly against yours. In seconds he has you sat on the seat of your vanity and he leans down to kiss you harder.

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs against your lips, “so pretty.”

“You messed up my hair,” you scold half-heartedly, your fingers grazing against the collar of his shirt. “We’re gonna be late to the wedding.”

“It’s not our wedding,” he breathes, kissing you again and murmuring between them, “they’ll understand.”

You pull away, cheeks hot and lips swollen. “They’ll know.”

“Good.”

“Spencer!”

You arrive at Rossi’s mansion with five minutes to spare, guests already filing through the doors. From the corner of your eye, you spot Aaron and Emily speaking in one of the living rooms while JJ follows an older lady up the stairs holding a white dress in her arms. After placing the wedding gift on the table, you venture out into the garden where the tables are decorated with white lace tablecloths and the chairs have big satin ribbons on the backs of them. Cream and white roses are arranged elegantly on top of the tables and the fairy lights provide an even bigger sense of magic to the scene.

“The place looks amazing, David,” you praise, beaming at the older man. “Truly, it’s like something out of a fairytale.”

He chuckles as he holds a flute of champagne, gesturing to where Derek stands with Penelope. “I had some help. You’re taking care of yourself?”

“Of course,” you respond, waving to Derek who looks all too pleased to see you again. “It has been a really good couple of years.”

“You and Spencer have been together for, what, two and a half years?” He asks as he looks over to where Spencer is showing magic tricks to Henry.

“Sounds like a long time, huh?” You ask through a breathless laugh. “It’s been good.”

David smiles proudly at you, patting you on the shoulder. “I’m happy for the two of you. You’re like a daughter to me, you know that.”

“I know,” you respond, grinning. “Thank you.”

“Let me know when the big day happens,” he says with a wink. “It’ll save you from renting a venue.”

You only laugh and shake your head as you move to where Spencer is, ruffling his hair as Henry giggles loudly. Spencer lets out a shout in protest, swatting your hands away lightly before holding them in his own, bringing his lips to the back of it.

“Having fun?” You ask them, grinning at Henry who nods excitedly.

“Uncle Spencer showed me a magic trick!” He exclaims, clapping his hands together.

“Oh is that right?”

Spencer offers you a sheepish smile, twirling a penny around his fingers. “Do you want to see?”

He doesn’t give you much room to accept or deny the offer, holding the penny in his hands and showing it to both you and Henry.

“Behold,” he announces, “a normal penny. But this penny can travel through the astrological planes and dimensions. Watch closely.”

He holds the penny up to your face before snapping his fingers and, lo and behold, the penny was out of sight. He shows both his hands, front and back, a boyish smile on his face. Henry claps at the display, squealing and brushing his long hair away from his face.

“Where’d it go?” Henry asks, pouting.

Spencer beams at the enthusiasm and holds his hands out again. “Ah, now that is the tricky part. For that, I need an assistant… angel, do you mind?”

He holds you by the waist with left hand, kissing your cheeks before holding his right hand in front of your face. Henry shrieks at the display of affection, covering his eyes exaggeratedly. You laugh out of embarrassment, swatting at Spencer’s arms and rolling your eyes.

“Stop torturing the poor child,” you scold lightly, wiping away his sloppy kisses.

“Couldn’t help myself,” he dismisses, before waggling his fingers. “Now, to find that penny…”

He reaches up behind your ear, pinching at something, before revealing the penny in his pinched fingers. He watches as your eyes widen with surprise, his cheeks pinkening in delight.

“How did you do that?” You ask, grabbing the penny from his hand and turning it over in your fingers.

“He’s magic,” Henry provides helpfully, clapping his hands. “Just like Auntie Penelope! When I tell her about something, it magically shows up at my house in a big brown box!”

You laugh, not having the heart to inform him that Penelope is not magic; simply very good at spoiling the people she cares about. She has taken you on more than a few shopping sprees in hopes of spoiling her little godson, ooh-ing and aah-ing at the cute clothes and toys in the department stores. Recently, she’s been scouting out jewellery stores, going on and on about how difficult it is to find gifts for people. You had offered a few recommendations of your own, gesturing to the pretty rings and necklaces out on display, but she only dismissed your suggestions.

“Auntie Penelope is basically a fairy godmother,” you tell Henry in explanation, chuckling. “Like in Cinderella.”

“I love Cinderella,” Henry says, his eyes lighting up. “Uncle Spencer read it to me! He said that the original story is about Ash-poo-tell.”

“Ashputtel,” Spencer explains to you, “the original story.”

“Ah,” you nod in remembrance, recalling the grim details of the story. You ruffle Henry’s hair. “You can hear that story when you’re older.”

The rest of the wedding goes without a hitch. Drinks are handed out by the ushers Rossi hired, along with cute little hors d'oeuvres. The ceremony in itself is perfection; JJ and Will sharing a kiss after saying their vows, and Henry being the ring bearer. Spencer holds your hand the entirety of the celebrations, brushing his thumb up and down the back of your left palm, carefully tracing each knuckle.

As JJ and Will take to the dance floor, more and more couples join in. Derek and a very drunk Penelope join in with loud giggles, and Beth drags Hotch into the circle by the wrists. Spencer rests his hands on your waist as the two of you stand at the sidelines, watching with amused grins as Penelope trips over her own feet.

“Hey,” Spencer murmurs into your ear, pulling you closer. “What do you say we get away from the crowd?”

You jump on the opportunity, already picking up your purse. “Who are you and what have you done to Spencer Walter Reid?”

He rolls his eyes at you, shooting a quick message to the team’s group chat to let them know that you were making an early leave. “Very funny.”

“No, no, I’m serious! Do you need to see a doctor? Like, a medical one?” You ask with jest as he opens up the car door for you.

“Do you want me to change my mind?” He asks, laughing, before getting into the driver’s seat of the car. “I just thought that we could go somewhere. It’s not too late and if we hurry, I think we could catch the sunset.”

You smile innocently as he puts the car into drive, heading off to who knows where. “Have I ever told you that I love you?”

“Tell me again,” he prompts, resting his hand on the inside of your thigh as he keeps his eyes on the road.

“I love you.”

“I love you,” comes his immediate response, squeezing at the flesh of your thighs through your dress. A street sign passes overhead as he drives, reading the word ‘Anacostia’.

“We’re going to the Bridge Park?” You ask curiously, peering out the window.

He hums in affirmation. “I heard it’s pretty this time of day. I wanted to take you out somewhere nice, but I don’t know when we’ll have a case next so I figured that this would be the perfect time.”

After parking the car and locking it, Spencer takes your hand as you walk through the park. It’s a very popular area in Anacostia, the entire neighbourhood holding old historic buildings that have been refurbished.

You relish the feeling of the breeze in your hair, your cheeks turning rosy as the temperature begins to drop. You made it just in time for the sunset as it paints the park in oranges and a soft lavender haze, your skin flushing gold from the lighting. You commit the image to memory as you stare at the view, your dress fluttering around your legs from the wind.

In your distraction, you miss the way Spencer’s hand drops from yours, and you search through your purse for your phone. You click open the photo app, putting it onto the selfie setting as you turn to him.

“Walter, let’s take a–”

The words die at your tongue upon the sight before you. Spencer, in his once neat suit and tie and all his germaphobic tendencies kneeling on the cold concrete, holding a velvet ring box in his hand. The box looks comically small in his palms as he looks up at you, his eyes glossed over and a tearful smile on his face.

“Hi, angel,” he says softly, his voice cracking at the last syllable.

“What’re you doing?” You ask, even though you know exactly what is going on. Blood rushes to your ears and you sniffle. “Spencer, your pants–”

“I love you,” he says firmly, the box in his hands quivering as his hands shake. His palms are sweaty and he swallows the nerves down his throat. “I love you. I’m not– I’m not good with words or with expressing how I feel but I know one thing for certain: I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

He chokes out a quiet laugh as you take a step closer to him, wiping the tears away from his eyes. “I had a speech prepared and everything,” he says, embracing the feel of your warm hands on his cheeks. “I can’t even remember what I was going to say.”

“It’s okay,” you murmur, crouching down so that you are eye level with him. “It’s okay, Walter.”

“No, I–” he swallows the lump in his throat and wets his bottom lip. “Love in the English dictionary covers a multitude of feelings. You can love doing something, or love a specific food, or love an object. In other languages, there are different words for different types of love and I think… I think that they got it right. There are a million untranslatable words that all mean love but I think the one that expresses how I feel about you would be the Chinese phrase ‘yuan fen’. It means that two people were… predestined to be together and I think– I know that we were meant to be.”

He sucks in a breath after his rant, smiling up at you. “Will you marry me?”

Tears slip from your eyes as you nod, pulling him up from the cold musty ground. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Spencer exhales, his arms looping around your waist. His nose burrows into the side of your neck and you can feel the hot tears against your skin.

“Thank God,” he breathes, moving his head to kiss your cheeks. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you respond, hugging him tight. “Was there ever any doubt?”

He laughs a little, shaking his head as he fumbles with the velvet box, slipping the ring onto your left ring finger. “No. Never.”

Spencer brushes a strand of your hair away from your face before kissing you slowly, the light from the sun finally going down. As you pull away, the speakers overhead come to life with the announcer clearing his throat.

“Unfortunately, due to the predicted rain that will be coming shortly, the fireworks show will be rescheduled. We apologise for this inconvenience.”

You peer up at Spencer curiously who looked more than disappointed. “Fireworks show?”

“That was the plan,” he says with a small frown. “I’m sorry, angel.”

There’s a crash of thunder and before you know it, small droplets of water begin to fall from the sky. Spencer immediately covers your head with his jacket, pulling you over to the car.

“Wait, wait–” you laugh, resisting his efforts. “Walter, wait!”

“I’m not letting you get sick,” he scolds lightly, his curls sticking to his forehead from the rain.

You laugh again, stepping closer to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. “Well, we don’t have a pool but… rain works too, right?”

“You’re insane,” he says, his forehead pressed against yours. “You’re crazy.”

A teasing grin makes its way onto your face as you waggle your fingers in front of him. “Yeah, well, you’re marrying crazy.”

“No regrets,” he responds, before pressing his lips to yours.

In that moment, as he kisses you on the sidewalk in the pouring rain, you could have sworn that you felt sparks fly.

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Thank you everyone once again for your support through this project! I have had so much fun writing it and I am so grateful for all the traction and love that it has received! With the help of this project, we have reached 2.1k followers! To celebrate, I have opened requests and you can find the event page here <3 thank you all once again and until next time !!

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peterparkerslefttesticle · 2 years

Text

Fuck or Die

a peter parker sex pollen fic

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: peter comes into contact with sex pollen and his best friend wants to take away the pain

NO MINORS!!!!

not edited

“stay the fuck away from me. please,”

it had been a week since you’d seen your best friend, peter. he’d been away on a mission, along with a few other avengers.

being the baby of the team, you definitely weren’t told everything. or anything really, if it didn’t directly affect you.

“just tell me what is going on!” you screamed at the quarantined boy, voice muffled through the thick glass.

peter was crying at this point, an all consuming burn firing through his veins, predominately the veins down low.

“sweetheart come with me. your not helping by screaming at him,” tony tried peeling you from the hall, but you stood your ground

“why does no one tell me what’s happening? when are you guys going to stop treating me like a baby, i’m 18 for fucks sake!” now peter wasn’t the only one crying.

out of the corner of your cloudy vision you could see his form cowering in the corner, convulsing almost.

“please! he’s my best friend. i deserve to know what’s going on!”

“it’s not about us keeping information from you. it’s just that this is… sensitive.” stark’s brow wrinkled, stress emanating from his form.

this time when he pulled you away, tou didn’t fight.

sensitive?

what could possibly be sensitive enough that you can’t know why your best friend looks like he’s about to die???

once in the lab, you and the iron man sit down.

“look kid, something happened on our mission,”

“yeah no shit,” if looks could kill, stark would’ve murdered you months ago. but probably gotten wanda to resurrect you so his steely gaze could kill you again now.

“i’m serious. parker was doing recon in one of fisk’s bases while we fought his men outside. he found a thing… some sort of explosive gas. when he picked one up for closer inspection it erupted.” tony looked apprehensive, almost waiting for an eruption of his own.

“ok. i’m just gonna say it. sex pollen. it was sex pollen. there’s no way around it. peter exploded a sex pollen bomb.”

the way your jaw unhinged looked inhumane. “WHAT?” you gaped. “like, that weird shit from fanfiction? like the weird shit that makes someone fuck or die? are we in the fucking omega verse right now???”

“i’m going to pretend i know what the omega verse is,” the man clears his throat, “but uh, kind of? he won’t die, but unless he… y’know.. he’ll just kind of be in an unimaginable state of pain for the next,” he checks his watch, “22 hours.”

it took a minute to process the aforementioned information. peter had been affected by sex pollen? you guessed that explained his need to be away from you. but imagining your poor peter in pain for almost another day?

“so why aren’t you doing anything? wait that came out wrong.”

this was probably the most awkard conversation you’d had with tony, even after he caught you “making out” with brad in senior year.

“i meant to say, what’s being done to help him? surely there’s something. i know it’ll pass but fuck, i can’t live with myself knowing pete’s in that room hurting.” you felt a pit of guilt lounging in your gut.

wait it was guilt right? why does your guilt feel like it’s… lower… than it should be.

were you seriously fucking TURNED ON from thinking about your best friend being so horny that it hurts? well, if you worded it like that, yeah.

“we offered him… services. not from us obviously. like, paid services. or anything he wants. but he refused. something about ‘respecting women’ yada yada yada.” stark jests, but you can see the fatherly worry seeping out.

with out another thought, you leave tony in the lab and spring back to parker’s quarantine unit.

“pete you need to accept help! look at yourself” he was worse for wear, even since you saw him 10 minutes ago

his suit was half off his body, which was dripping with sweat. and as much as you tried to ignore it, a large bulge had appeared through the fabric.

he could barely meet your eyes, his own bloodshot, hair matted to his forehead.

“you know i can’t. i can’t control my strength like this. i could hurt someone.” the spider cried out

“not me,” your eyes finally lock. “you can’t hurt me. you know that. we’ve trained together. i’m stronger than you.”

your powers may have made your life a living nightmare, but the strength was definitely a plus. you had sparred countless times, and not once had he hurt you. or beat you for that matter.

“i- i can’t” his voice broke as his body convulsed once more, ungloved hands going to cover his dick.

“if you want to, you can. I’m here pete. I don’t want to see you like this. And i don’t want you to worry about all your moral shit. your not taking advantage of me. your not going to hurt me. i want this. i want to help you, if that’s what you want.”

silence. a few beats go by, before a small “please” meets your ears.

in a blink of an eye you slide your hand over the sensor, unlocking the door to his cell.

your heart broke to a million pieces seeing the broken boy. if you didn’t know better you would have assumed he was succumbing to a deathly injury.

“curtains. there’s curtains.” he gestures to blue hospital curtains that have the potential to cover the glass wall between them and the hall way.

as you pull the curtain, the last thing you see is a worried/disgusted/embarrassed tony. poor guy. knowing his ‘son’ and new recruit were about to get it on.

“FRIDAY, lock down and sound proof the floor once i get in the elevator.” tony yelled, mumbling something about ‘for the good of mankind’.

you drop to your knees next to peters warm frame. the restraint he used to not fuck you right there looked painful.

“If you want this, I want this. I would do anything for you spidey. even if it means fucking my best friend into oblivion,” you say to him, a strained chuckle leaving his chest.

“i won’t be able to stop. i would rather go through this a hundred times then hurt you or screw up our friendship.”

“you won’t. i can handle it. please fuck me pete.”

he turns to a rabid animal with the speed he meshes your lips. the carnal devouring of your face dials up your arousal, and he can smell it.

“wow. you’re fucking sick. getting turned on by your best friend in pain,” he mumbled into your neck, trailing teeth and tongue down your décolletage.

you couldn’t even form a response, to focused on the way his bear chest felt under your fingers, and the way his boner grinded into your crotch.

practised hands pop open the buttons of your shirt, and i clasp the bra you donned. thank god you wore a nice one today.

“mmm pretty bra. planning on fucking brad later?” the boy teased.

“only you. always you.” you grinded harder onto his cock, frustrated at the layers separating you.

“fuck i’ve always dreamt of fucking you. fucking you so good. so so good” a piercing cry leaves your lips as he bites your nipple, kissing it better after.

his tongue was magic, working its way all over your chest. he groped and grasped your breast, alternating one in his mouth, one in his mouth.

even with all his talk, you could see his facade fading.

“peter just fuck me. i know you need it.”

“but what about yo-“

“pete i’m soaked. i’m fine. i just want to make you feel better.” with this, he lets you take charge. he (attempts) to rip his suit off while you pull down your sweats, and eventually a lacy pair of panties.

a guttural groan leaves his lips when he sees the glistening mound before him, he goes to put his mouth forward, but you stop him, kneeling over his lap despite his whine.

“i told you. this is about you. making you feel better.” you laughed at his pathetic attempt at removing the sweat soaked suit.

you pull it down just enough to reveal his angry member. it was thicker than you were used to, longer as well, and a small wave of fear rolled through your stomach.

his dick was red, twitching and leaking. you could practically feel his pain just by looking at it.

he hissed when you slid him up your slit, soaking it with your juices.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered as he slammed your hips down onto him. the scream you let out would definitely surpass stark’s soundproofing.

tears stream down his face at the relief of your silk pussy embarrassing his dick. but he didn’t have long to revel in the comfort. he continued to slam into you with a brutal pace. the erotic wet sounds were enough to put porn to shame.

both of your faces contorted with the pleasure.

“fuck spider you’re fucking me so good. i wanna make you come. want your cum to fill my pussy so good.” his pace was so bruising that his groin pounded into your clit with every thrust.

you couldn’t warn him of the imminent coil about to burst as you gushed around his erection. no noise came out of your mouth except for the unholy moans and expletives.

something you never expected about pete, was his vocalness in bed. god, you would be imagining his noises for weeks to come, hand between your legs.

he was louder than you, which you didn’t think possible, though none of it was legible. his broken words were drowned out by his heavenly moans. with every thrust there came a new ‘ugh’, ‘ngugh’, and ‘fuhhh’.

and god did it get you going.

just listening to his groans had you verging on another orgasm. and he wasn’t too far behind.

peter kept repeating the words “soon” and “close”.

“god pete your so hot. so good to me. fucking me so good. please come baby. i want your cum to fill me up so good. need it baby. need your cum.” you slammed your hips down to meet his every movement, chasing the fast approaching high.

“i’m coming. coming. gonna come,” and with the most dirty, unholy, erotic noise ever made before, peter came.

you could feel the warm seed filling your cunt as you reached your peak, fucking his cum deeper into your cavity.

peter collapsed almost immediately, chest heaving as he sprawled onto the cold foor. you followed in suit, falling flat onto his chest, dick still sheathed inside.

it was deadly silent for at least 5 minutes, and you were sure he had fallen asleep until you head him say “i didn’t hurt you did i?” he lifted your body up, allowing his softened member to leave your body.

“i told you i could handle it, and i did.” you looked up to meet his tired eyes “you didn’t hurt me pete. and even if you had it would have been worth it. how are you feeling now?”

you brushed some hair out of his face, his soft breath brushing against yours. “god i feel so much better. i’m forever indebted to you. that hurt like a bitch.” he chuckled and closed his eyes. “seriously though, thank you. i don’t know what i did to deserve a friend like you.” he wrapped his strong arms around your waist, both of you choosing to ignore the bear skin and leaking fluids pouring you of your pussy.

he whined when you got up, and for a second you thought he would pull you back down. you entered the joined bathroom to get towels.

with gentle hands you soaked up the sticky substances residing over parker’s stomach “i think you’re gonna need this dry cleaned.” you mention, staring at the very stained suit.

he jerked when you gently wiped his cock, but relaxed into your touch nonetheless.

“i think we permanently traumatised mr stark,” peter chortled as he pulled your now clean body into the folding cot that lay in the room.

you giggled with him “yeah, i’m pretty sure even with the soundproofing the entire tower could hear you.” you smirked

the boy turned beet red, and nestled his face into yours, “hey! it wasn’t just me!”

the two of you spent the rest of the night on the small bed, neither with the strength to leave the room.

peter fell asleep first, but you stayed up a little to ponder the future of your friendship after today. however confused you may be, one thing was definitely sure.

there was no way you weren’t fucking peter parker again

#spiderman #peter parker #spiderman smut #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #fanfiction #smut #marvel #marvel smut #the avengers #avengers smut #andrew garfield smut #tom holland smut #tom holland

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jpnriikicore · 9 months

Text

── hickey galore

paring colby brock x fem!reader, word count 774, genre kinda suggestive, authors note there is a age-gap between colbs and the reader but of course the reader is of age, ( masterlist )

something colby has always held over your head since you’ve known him is the fact that he knows your neck is incredibly sensitive. in public he would place a gentle kiss on side of your neck just to watch you squirm. he would continue to tease you about it through the day and continues on like nothing happened. god, the teasing gets worse in privacy.

now, your cuddled up on the couch you settled between his legs. the arm that started at your waist at the beginning of the night was now holding the back of your thigh. one hand is interlocked with his. your fingers playing with his rings as a comforting habit you’ve picked up over the years. you were at this party that sam decided to throw last minute. you were almost late colby somehow convinced you that you had more time than what you did just so he could kiss you longer.

the majority of the time of getting ready was you attempting to cover up the hickeys that he gave you, but eventually in the end you just gave up and went to the party covered in his hickeys anyways.

his hand moved closer lifting your dress a little bit higher.

"colbs." you mumbled, putting your hand on top of his in a poor attempt to stop his actions.

"don’t worry nobody’s paying attention, kid." he whispered in your ear.

the nickname that fell from his lips sounded degrading. you weren’t a kid anymore. you were incredibly mature for your age. he used every chance to make you remember that you were younger than him. you weren’t that younger than him just young enough to make society look down on you two.

every time his hand moved an inch higher the more his touch felt like electric waves going through your body.

sam called him over as you shifted away, so colby could get up.

he leaned against the wall as he continued to talk to sam. occasionally glancing over at you. he’s wearing the black button up that you adore on him. the first few buttons are undone like normal, but tonight a few more buttons were undone. like as if he was just begging for attention exposing his collarbones and some of his chest. you could see his tattoo peak through the shirt some. he knew exactly what he’s doing.

he ended his little conversation with sam. immediately walking back over to you maintaining eye contact. he settled you in his lap. you "accidentally" shifted yourself closer to him in a way you just knew that would rile him up.

"i want you." you whispered in his ear while your dainty hand played around with his necklace.

his eyes glanced at sam who seemed to be preoccupied with a friend as he sit down the glass that was filled with whatever liquor he was drinking.

he pushed a few strands of hair behind your ear. his hand slipping up your dress completely his ring claded hand stroking your legs and stomach. the coldness of his rings compared to your warm flushed skin made a shiver go up your spine.

"come with me," he whispered, you shifted onto your feet and you link your arms with his as you walk upstairs to the bathroom. "you have to be quite for me."

you promised to his good girl as you walked into the bathroom. not a second later after he locked the bathroom door he taken back by you pushing him against the bathroom wall kissing his chest leaving a few hickeys, but you found yourself being roughly pushed against the wall. the roles being switched.

he continued to add to his collection of hickeys on your neck. whines escaping from your mouth due to the sensitivity of your neck.

"what would sam think seeing his little sister like this?" his hand slid up to wrap his hand around your throat adding some pressure to the sides just enough to keep you dazed.

hickeys littered your entire neck and area that your chest was exposed due to the dress you wore being low cut. you was completely flustered, your hair was completely messed up, your dress was wrinkled, and your eyes was blown out with lust.

you couldn’t even think straight. in response a loud whine escaped you. fuck, you was fucked.

"want to take this back to the car?" he mumbled, against your lips. you untucked the rest of his button up that was tucked in his jeans. letting your fingers fiddle with the buttons of his shirt hurriedly trying to unbutton the rest of them.

"mm-hmm."

#colby brock #colby brock x reader #colby brock imagine #colby brock fan fiction #colby brock x you #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock x y/n #colby brock imagines #colby brock fanfic #sam and colby #xplr

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faithums · 3 months

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…shopping with jjk men—> ੈ✩‧₊˚

✎ synopsis: what happens when you decide to agree to go shopping with these boys, but shopping doesn’t exactly happen…

inclu. gojo, nanami, megumi, choso, yuji, toji, inumaki, geto

╰┈➤ gojo saturo

of course he takes you to a bougie mall just so show off his wealth. what can he say; actually wait, he does know what to say- he calls himself a ‘philanthropist’ (putting that lightly) because he once gave a kid on a playground a half eaten krispy kreme. he takes you in all of the shops, bombarding you with a plethora of new designer items, he really does too much…

“Saturo-,” you couldn’t really speak coherent words as your boyfriend was currently picking out several different items of jewellery and placing them infront of you. They were all so beautiful; silver plated with diamond crusted attachments, which glistened in the reflection of the glass chandelier. He had dragged you to a very, expensive jewellers, and was insistent of you- well him- making a purchase.

“Shush. You’re getting at least one thing.” He quickly shut down your rebuttal as per without hesitation. Then carefully, he lifted your wrist up, dragging the enticing metal over it, tracing the subtle contours of your forearm. The sudden cold contact made your breath hitch slightly, but the worst thing was the price… You were shocked- to say the least. Why did the woman in-front of you let him behave in this childish way.

“What the hell.” A whisper spilled from your lips, “Saturo this is extortionate, I can’t have this. It’s just daylight robbery- I’d be too scared to wear it out.” Small protests were made but he just kept on and on, yapping to the sales clerk beside him about the insurance of the pulchritudinous bracelet. The fact that it had insurance was a crime in itself.

“‘Nnnnnd that’s what… like two ish grand? Okay okay. Bare with-,” Gojo’s arms were slung into his pockets, rummaging for his wallet. He is so nonchalant- too nonchalant about this… Sooner than later, the transaction had been completed and you had another bag in your hands. The hummed to himself as he watched you struggle to hold like what, 10 ish (maybe more) bags. It was funny, you could tell which ones you’d brought yourself, as you had some PRIMARK bags, yet some Tiffany & Co. bags (i wonder who brought which ones…). It was nice to treat yourself, but him spoiling you most days- you felt somewhat guilty.

“Saturo. Can I get you anything in return? If there’s anything you want, I mean- I know I don’t have as much as you bu-,” your ramblings were cut short by Gojo’s immediate response.

“Hm. I can only think of one thing if I’m honest,” he pondered suspiciously, putting his hand on his chin like a childish idiot.

“What.” You replied with a smile creeping up your cheek as his arm slithered around your waist; taking some of the weight from the bags in the process.

“Backshots.” He grinned smugly.

A grimace formed on your face, knowing full well what would happen when you two returned home. After all, if gratitude can be free- then backshots it is.

╰┈➤ nanami kento

a gentleman, through and through. his patience shines when he is with you: helping you declutter your thoughts, calming you down. he takes time for you, and especially with you. he loves seeing you immersed within the clothes you surround yourself in, not interested in anything but you. he really is a gift too pure for this world…

Nanami promised to take you to the mall today, so here you were. The morning sun cascading down your neck, it heating up your skin ever so subtly, creating a comforting warmth. You found yourself strolling hand in hand with him. The air still alive with possibilities and the hun of excitement.

The boutique stood out like a beacon of elegance admits the bustling mall, it’s exterior adorned with intricate wrought iron accents and tall, gleaming windows that showcased the latest fashion wonders like prized jewels in a treasure trove. Upon entering, a wave of opulence washed over you, enveloping you in a cocoon of luxury (that you wished lasted a lifetime).

As you navigated through the labyrinth of silks, your fingers grazed over sumptuous fabrics, each touch eliciting a sense of delight. No wonder Nanami decided to take you here. It’s very fancy- to say the least. The ambiance was one of sophistication and refinement, yeah, this is Nanami territory.

You decided to chose out a dress, on Nanamis behalf (he said it was ‘his treat’), so now you’re stood before a full-length mirror examining yourself and if this was nice, or not…

The soft, velvety fabric of the black king dress was dripping down your figure, you couldn’t help but feel a path of uncertainty fluttering within the depths of your heart. The dress, with its sleek silhouette and subtle shimmer, represented the shop at its peak. Yet you gazed at your reflection, doubts crept in like shadows in the moonlight.

Your fingers traced the delicate embroidery adorning the bodice, the intricate patterns seeming to dance beneath your touch. You shifted uneasily, the fabric clinging to your form in a way that felt both foreign and unfamiliar. A flicker of insecurity danced in your eyes as you searched for reassurance within the depths of the mirror- yet none was found.

Beside you, Nanami, your Kento. He stood tall, with an unwavering presence, his aquamarine eyes utterly fixated onto you, which sent a warmth flooding through your veins. His gaze offered solace admits the storm of hesitation that raged within.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, his voice smooth like honey, a melody that washed over you like a gentle breeze. “You look.” He stopped, looking you up and down again, “stunning.” To which you blushed at his words.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, “I’m not too sure if it’s right for me.”

His gaze softened, he cupped your cheek. His touch was like a balm to your wounded spirit, his presence a source of strength in your moment of vulnerability. “It’s not about the dress,” he replied, voice filled with sincerity, “it’s about how you feel when you wear it. And right now, as far as I’m concerned, you look. Breathtaking.”

His words, like a lifeline in a sea of uncertainty, anchored you to reality. With a tender gesture, you leaned forward, pressing a delicate kiss to Nanami’s cheek, a silent token of gratitude for his unwavering love and encouragement.

╰┈➤ fushiguro megumi

this boy. he is clueless. utterly clueless. he doesn’t know the first thing when it comes to basic shopping- you’re surprised he can even get dressed: speaking of getting dressed. you’ve taken him to get new clothes because the little freak basically lives and breathes in the same 3 hoodies all of the time. so now you’re helping him try on clothes in the back changing rooms of a shop…

You were currently egging your anxious boyfriend on to get new shirts, joggers, coats, anything. Just clothes. He desperately needed new ones. He’s been living in literally the same ones for the entire time you’ve been dating.

“I swear to god Megs. If you don’t come out of this shop with at least a hanger I’ll kill you myself.” Your warnings didn’t seem to bother him as he only hummed in response. You both began looking, rummaging throughout the clearance racks. Scouring and mapping out the highs and lows of the shop until your hands had found themselves tugging on a specific item of clothing you would die to see him in it.

“Fushiguro. Come here right now,” you said, condescendingly, walking over to him, slowly closing the distance between you. “Look at this.” You handed the shirt to him. Waiting for a reaction, but instead you just got an inconspicuous raise of an eyebrow, inspecting the shirt.

“What about it. It’s literally just a normal black shirt?” He questioned you and your antics as something had to be up… “You know I don’t need any more black t shirts.”

“I don’t care you’re trying this on or else I’ll. uh. I don’t know but I’ll do something,” you rebutted his faffing about and basically dragged him to the changing room cubicle at the back of the store. You nudged his arm, indicating that you hadn’t got all day, even though he seemed to think otherwise.

A few minutes had passed and no signs of life had emerged from Megumi’s cubicle. “You okay in there?” You replied hastily, and got a meek reply of: “No.”

“No? The fuck does he mean no.” You mumbled under your breath, “babe what’s wrong?”

“Is it supposed to be this tight?” And with that the curtain dividing the two of you opened, revealing Megumi with the worlds most tightest compression shirt on, which looked as if it had been tailored for him especially.

Your jaw was practically on the floor, it was a fight to stop your mouth from falling in awe. He looked so- good. But ‘good’ puts how he looks too lightly; so let’s go with irresistible. The faint outline of his abs peaking from under the restriction of his shirt, his body’s contours moving as he fidgeted. “My my Megumi. Bend me over and do me dirty, you look nice,” you announced to him.

“Nice? After you say that, nice is what you come up with?” He deadpanned with a subtle smirk

“Thought it was suitable.” You smiled. “Giving my big girls vocabulary a rest for today. I mean, keeping my eyes on you is like a chore.” You chuckled then sighed, and on queue your eyes did again search from his veiny arms to his slightly turned head (with the smallest hint of blush visible).

“Shut up.” He protested whilst rolling his eyes.

“When we get back home I want a fashion show.” You declared, whipping your purse out already, determined to buy this for him.

╰┈➤ kamo choso

choso is the most oblivious person when it comes to the basic things in life. ask him you’re going for a girls night and he will insist on coming with you, but then you will have to explain to him and let him down gently that he can’t go. but today you’ve dragged him to the mall and now he doesn’t have a clue what’s what…

Dragging Choso into Sephora wasn’t exactly on your list of typical couple activities, but you couldn’t resist the urge to splurge all of your hard earned money on crap you didn’t need (who doesn’t!) and besides you were overdue a makeup shopping trip. As you began to peruse the aisles, you can’t help but to notice a group of young girls, no older than ten, browsing and gawking at the Drunk Elephant section nearby.

“What’re they going here? Haven’t they just come out of the womb or something?” Choso whispers, his curiosity piqued by the sight of such young customers in a makeup store.

“Hm. Oh. Yeah no, they’re just ogling at the viral products, which in fact won’t do anything for their non hormonal skin. That’s normal in makeup shops Chos,” You reply casually, not necessarily caring as you’ve heard of many stories like this- although these kids are supposed to be brutal.

You focused your attention to the products infront of you, “hmmm, I do need a new setting spray.” You picked the bottle up, seeing if it matched the one on your phone. Choso chirped in.

“Setting Spray? Is it like… a magical mist that sets the mood for your makeup? So is it when you’re angry, you do angry makeup.” He asked obliviously.

“What do you mean by angry makeup-,” you cut yourself off before you got distracted, “Not quite love…” you dismissed his naive behaviour with a loving smile.

You hadn’t really taken in how tall he was, stood next to you it was as if there was a skyscraper. He’s just too attractive. You admired in silence, as he cluelessly picked up an eyebrow gel and scraped a bit on the back of his hand- then went on to complain how his hand was sticky.

Some time had passed and the Sephora ten year olds were slowly approaching the section you were stood in. It had clicked what you both were blocking with your figures… Retinol. These Sephora kids bloody loved this stuff, even though it is way way too damaging for their skin, they think they’re Einstein and don’t want to be disproven.

“Chos let’s go.” You grabbed his cold, pale hand to avoid this inevitable conflict. But he was interested in the thing you needed to distance yourself from… “Retinol? Chos, do you really need that?” You advised him.

“I think I’ll get it, just trying it won’t hurt- will it?” He asked, his dark eyes staring lovingly at you.

“Most likely not.” You laughed at the entire situation to yourself, you did not expect to see your boyfriend in a queue for Sephora to buy retinol. It was very humouring.

All seemed quiet until this little girl approached Choso and demanded for what he hand in his hand to ‘be hers’. He just stood there, puzzled.

“No.” He said bluntly, and this child did not stop screaming. It was like Choso had pulled a fire alarm. As long as that kid doesn’t get its way then it doesn’t matter.

He ended up purchasing the retinol, which is so weird to think about… ‘As long as it keeps him happy’ you thought.

╰┈➤ itadori yuji

he’s always thinking about his stomach, then jennifer lawrence, then you. so it’s ideal that he starts off his afternoon by feeding the first and third most important things in his life, by taking you straight to the food court…

“You’re paying.”

“WHAT?” He practically shat himself when he heard this, “WHY?”

“Maybe because when we go for food. You order the entire menu. Every. Fucking. Time. Yuji.” You said, sternly, as in ‘I’m happy to be here sternly- but if you make me pay I’ll kill you sternly.’

“It’s not my fault that I’ve got like six stomachs or something! I just think it means I’ve got a good ability to digest food quicker,” Yuji yapped on and on, trying his hardest to justify his case as he talked to himself.

“Whatever makes you sleep at night babe,” you leaned into his shoulder as he pulled you toward him via the waist as you two walked to the food court.

The rich aromas of sweets and savoury attacked your senses, as he guided you to the birthplace of gluttony. It oozed of pride in its branding, as when you stepped through the door- the ostentatious architecture made itself present, the waiters all in their matching regal uniforms, there must’ve been a fountain somewhere deeper in the restaurant as the smell of spring water came apparent.

Yuji took one look at you and your reaction to the extravagant establishment and you both knew what would happen next.

“Fancy a wagas?” Yuji stated, fine dining wasn’t his style, you knew this, this man cannot sit still- let alone be waited upon.

“Couldn’t think of anything better babe,” you smiled, as he gave the top of your head a chaste kiss, briefly rubbing his face against your hair as he said previously that he ‘liked the smell’. “Babe if you’re smelling my hair again I think I might cry. This is literally the third time within the past half hour.”

“You’re only allowed to cry when we’re sat at a table with food infront of us. Now come on, I’m starving,” he gripped your hip and escorted you out of the posh building as you two rendezvoused to the nearby Wagamamas.

A bit of time had passed and you two were tucked into your meals, which were delicious. And Yuji had the audacity to ask (like the cheeky sod he is): “Can you actually start crying so we can get a free meal? The staff look like they’d take pity on you.” And in response you threw an edamame at his smug face.

“Get lost you gannit. You’ll be crying when you see the bill,” a cacophony of laughter emerged from your lips as you had just cursed the upcoming tab which was about to be placed in-front of Yuji.

“You’re lucky I love you.” Yuji’s once cute and naive smirk disintegrated from one of happiness to pure horror when the total cost from the check was in eyeshot.

╰┈➤ fushiguro toji

this mf cannot afford to even go into a mall (let alone buy something in it). he’s often spotted cavorting around mcdonald’s waiting until somebody’s order has been called up, pretends to be said person, takes the food and dips immediately. whilst you watch with horror from the back of the room. or sometimes, he has told you he would be at work, so when you decide to visit your local mall (to treat yourself whilst he’s away) and see him begging for money outside of it alls he can say is “gotta make money somehow doll,” with a grin and he thinks he can get off scot free? yeah, absolutely not.

n/a…

╰┈➤ inumaki toge

this man thinks he’s so hard core, thinks he’s the silent but deadly type: when in reality he looks like a weirdo lingering behind people acting like that one man emoji (🧍‍♂️) . and now he’s followed you upto the store in the mall with all of the jelly cats piled in it…

You and Inumaki were walking up the stairs of the shopping centre, when you caught a glimpse of a particular bag with a specific logo on it… Inumaki hand tensed around the mound of flesh which was there originally, now his hand was clenching around the air, you had ran off in the distance somewhere as you’d seen something you’d been wanting for a while.

“Ohmy godoh. my gof-,” your thoughts were disorientated a little, and your breath wasn’t catching up with your train of thought; but you couldn’t help but run after this woman with this bag. You needed it. And when you had finally caught upto her you politely said, “Excuse me, you know your bag? Where did you get it from? I cant seem to find a store where they sell them?” And the woman responded, a bit confused as you were enquiring about a paper bag, but you got the location of where you needed to go.

Inumaki had been left in the dust at this rate, frantically panicking as he was trying to find you, but he saw a glimpse of you from across the other side of the mall and b-lined for it. (A very funny sight to witness.) But you were too absorbed with what you had in your hands, not just that- but what was all around you.

You were in a store which sold soft animals, but the best news was that it’s sold JellyCats, you had wanted these teddies for a while, but there were no local shops which had them. The air smelt clean and crisp, juxtaposing the once stuffy, smelly, BO infested mall air, the place was magical, it was as if a part of your childhood was taken away and kept here.

Once Inumaki had found you again, he had found himself inside of the store as it had caught his eye, as he knew you would be inside of there. He walked upto you again, relived at the sight of you- however you seemed to be to infatuated with the teddies and not himself. So, the once pristine fluffy teddy in your hands got absolutely clarted by Inumaki’s fist.

“Toge what the hell are you doing you freak.” You joked, knowing he has called you far worse over text. “You cannot just punch all of the teddies.” You exclaimed between slight giggles. You shook your hand as you continued to browse the aisles, careful not to pick up any more victims for Inumaki’s playful punches (which were meant with full intent with the sheer vigour of how he clarted them).

You had been looking for this specific JellyCat which has a brown elephant, you’d had your eye on it for a while now, and low and behold. There it was, sat on a shelf by itself, it was practically begging for you to pick it up and re-home the cute thing.

However, there was a kid coming to toward it. “For gods sake,” you let out a slight groan, your paces speeding up ever so slightly in attempt to beat this child at reaching it before yourself. When suddenly Inumaki appears from literally thin air, snatches the elephant from the shelf, and hands it to be- and to top it off- the kid is given a gift too. The gift of Inumaki whipping out the ‘L’ hand sign.

“Toge…” you sighed and smiled lightly yet victoriously. You ruffled his hair, “Thanks babe.”

╰┈➤ geto suguru

i swear geto is the same as having like scary dog privilege. you lead the way and he lurks, when in reality he’s just made you walk infront of him because you’ve elbowed him as he made a snarky joke about the a weird guy walking past. doesn’t even make sense. anyway, now you’re leading him to the sweet shop at the end of the mall…

“Fudge?” Geto sighed, “really? Out of everything you’re going to get fudge.” (Geto does not like fudge. Whatsoever.)

“Yeah. I am. What’s got your knickers in a twist Sugu?”

“It’s vile.”

“You’re vile.” He rolled his eyes, even when you were in-front of him you could just sense it.

The sweet shop made itself closer and closer until the luminous neon lights were reflecting from the walls, and your face- making it appear pink and blue. As you and Geto step into the sweet shop, the air iss thick with the scent of sugar, like a warm embrace from a long-last friend. The vibrant array of sweets and treats dazzle your eyes, each confectionary a colourful masterpiece in its own right.

You turn to Geto, excitement bubbling within you as you’d been craving something sugary all day. “I’m starvingggg,” you whined, unable to contain your enthusiasm.

“No you’re not.” He quipped.

“Shush. Let me try one,” you said as you reached for a sample, and it was like you’d been transcended to a realm of peaceful tranquility. “Want one?” You offered to him.

“Nah, I’ll stick to the classics” you grin at his choice, admiring his steadfast dedication, even though he acts like an old man sometimes.

“Cant argue with you for that babe,” you reply, selecting a few more treats for yourself. “After all, why mess with perfection? Even though fudge is still top tier.”

He chuckled, the sound wand and genuine, as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close. “Exactly,” he murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. “Sometimes, simplicity is the sweetest indulgence of all.”

“Ooo. Get you and your fancy quotes, where are you reading them from then?” You ask, then pop another sweet into your mouth. He just smiles warmly.

As the two of you are walking out, there seems to be something which catches your eye: it reads ‘fudge flavoured condoms’. You felt your eye twitch. “Suguru. I want to die what the hell is that.” And to which Geto followed to where you were indicating toward and just laughed hysterically.

“Want me to buy some?” He asked with a sly smile.

“Absolutely not.” This was humiliating. Safe to say that you won’t be running back to fudge anytime soon.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso x reader #megumi x reader #jjk nanami #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagines #jjk scenarios #faithums #jjk fluff #jjk #jujutsu toji #jjk texts #angst with a happy ending #light angst

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woso-dreamzzz · 1 month

Text

Injured VIII

Alexia Putellas x Child!Reader

Jenni Hermoso x Child!Reader

Summary: There's an emergency

"Alexia...Alexia...Alexia!"

Alexia comes back into consciousness slowly. It's still dark out and her alarm clock proclaims it to be nearly two in the morning.

Olga is standing over the bed and even in the dim light, Alexia can tell something is wrong. Olga is saying something but Alexia is still waking up and only tunes in at the very end.

"-Already called Jenni. She's going to meet us there."

Alexia sits up, rubbing her eyes. "Meet us there? Jenni? What's going on?"

She flicks on the bedside light. Olga is still in her pyjamas but she's wearing her coat over the top and a pair of shoes. She's got Jaume on her hip.

He's got old little red pinpricks all over his neck and arms.

"Is that chickenpox?"

"No," Olga says, babbling at rapid speed as she shoves the sheets off Alexia's body," I thought it was but I saw some article on my feed about how to make sure it's not anything else and-"

"Olga? What is going on?"

"I think it's meningitis," Olga finally says," And we need to take him to the hospital."

Alexia's up like a shot, hopping around on one foot as she grabs the first set of shoes she can find. "It can't be," She denies," We got him vaccinated. I remember it!"

"That's what I thought!" Olga says back," But the rash doesn't go away when I press a glass to it and you know how he's been lately!"

Alexia nods, pulling on a Barca issued jacket. She pauses as she moves. "Bambi," She murmurs before raising her voice," Shit, Bambi! She was running a bit hot after her ballet class. But I just assumed it was all the movement. My phone...Where's my phone? I need to-"

"I used it to call Jenni," Olga says as they both go running out the door," She's going to meet us there."

She and Olga get there well before you and Jenni do.

Jaume is taken to get a spinal tap but the doctor is confident that it's meningitis so puts him on antibiotics as soon as the procedure is done.

"I don't understand," Alexia says," My kids are vaccinated! Both of them! They're up to date. I took Bambi to all of her boosters! Jaume's scheduled for another one when he hits a year!"

"Sometimes vaccines aren't one hundred percent effective," The doctor says, clearly used to calming enrage parents," What matters is that you saw it and you got him in tonight. The spinal tap should confirm the diagnosis but we've already got him on an IV." The doctor turns to leave before stopping. "You've got another child?"

Alexia's head frantically nods. "Yes. A girl. She's four. She's being brought in now."

The doctor nods, scribbling something on his clipboard. "As soon as she's here, have someone page me. Older children find it harder to stay still for the spinal tap. I'll contact anaesthesia and get someone to bring a mask."

Alexia's head changes from nodding to shaking furiously. "No!" She says it a bit louder than she meant to that even Olga looks shocked.

"It'll be better," Olga tries to explain," If they put her to sleep-"

"No, I mean..." Alexia shakes her head, the words spilling out of her mouth naturally. "She's allergic! To Isoflurane! That's the gas anaesthesia, right? Right?"

She looks around wildly as the doctor's face turns grim.

"I'll get some local," The doctor says," I know we made you wait outside for Jaume but it would be best if you came in for your daughter, if we're only using local, to keep her calm."

It's a waiting game until Jenni arrives with you and Alexia finds herself doom scrolling. She's dived into whatever article she can find on meningitis in children and the more she reads, the worse she feels.

They're yet to be allowed into see Jaume as the staff work to get him a bit more comfortable but Alexia can see him through the window and he's completely passed out asleep.

"I didn't know y/n was allergic to anything," Olga says softly.

Alexia laughs. It's more a nervous chuckle than anything else. "I don't even think Jenni does. My father was allergic. It skipped me and Alba but I wanted to check for Bambi, just in case."

"It's a good thing you did," Olga says.

Alexia looks down at her phone. "Where are they? They should be here by now."

"They'll be here soon. It's going to be okay."

It takes another ten minutes for you and Jenni to arrive.

You look infinitely worse than Jaume. The rash is completely obvious, taking over your whole body and Jenni looks just as distressed.

It takes another ten for the doctor to return.

You don't understand what's going on. Your Ma-Jenni woke you up super early before the sun has come up. She didn't get you dressed or brush your hair how you like it.

She didn't explain much at all...or, anything really. She just put you in the car and didn't say anything.

You'd tried to ask but your throat felt all scratchy and your tummy hurt.

All you know now is that you're at the hospital with Ma-Jenni, Mami and Miss Olga. There's a strange man with cold fingers that takes your shirt from you and makes you curl up on your side.

"Ma-Jenni?" You ask, trembling," What's going on?"

"Ssh, Bambi," Ma-Jenni says. Her tone is harsh, harsher than you've ever heard her speak to you and your tummy ties itself in a knot at her words.

You can hear the strange man talking nonsense to the adults and your eyes go wide at the tray of tools that's wheeled in. They look pointy and sharp, like the tools from that silly doctor show that Tia Alba likes.

You suck in a harsh breath when you feel a pinch at your back. You yelp and instantly try to wiggle away.

"No!" You cry," No! Off! Stop it! I don't want to! I don't want to!"

You force yourself to uncurl. You don't want this strange man touching your back. He makes it hurt and you got want any more of his sharp tools in your skin.

There's a grip on your legs though, forcing them back into position. You turn your head to look at who's got you against your will.

It's Ma-Jenni.

Her grip is firm and hard as she forces your kicking legs still. One of her arms has clamped them together, forcing them to stop moving while her other hand is on your hip, forcing your down onto the table until you're immobile.

You want her hands off you. Ma-Jenni has big hands that are perfect to hold you but not like this, never like this. You don't want her touching you like this.

"Ma-Jenni," You sob," Stop it! Stop it, please! Please!"

She doesn't stop though, merely readjusts her grip and pushes you down further until you well and truly can't move your bottom half.

"Stop it!" You continue to say," Stop it, Mama! Mama, stop!"

Hands curve around your shoulders and these are familiar hands too.

Mami's hands are perfect to hold in yours. They're always warm and they always hold you so gently. But now they've got your arms pinned to your chest and are forcing your shoulders firmly into the examination bed.

"Mami," You cry," Please stop. Mami, please. I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Mami! Stop!"

Mami's lips ghost your hairline. "I'm sorry, Bambi," She says, her voice a whisper that you can barely hear over your panic," I'm so sorry. It's going to be okay. You just need to be still. I'm sorry."

You can't move and the strange man is doing things to your back. You can't feel any pain but you can feel pressure and you can feel when he sticks something beneath your skin where things aren't supposed to go.

The only thing you can do is move your eyes and they focus on Miss Olga, the only adult in the room that's not actively hurting you.

"Miss Olga," You sob," Make them stop."

Her eyes nervously dart to the door like she wants to run away but she doesn't. She steps closer to where the adults are holding you, crouching down until your heads are almost the same height.

"I'm so sorry," She says to you," It's going to be okay, I promise. They're just making sure you're healthy."

"Miss Olga, please," You reply. You try to kick out your legs but Ma-Jenni just grips them more tightly," I'm sorry. I can be good. I can be better!"

"Hey," She says softly when your eyes dart towards your Mami," You are being so good. There's no one being better. Do you know what's going on?"

"No."

"You're very sick," Miss Olga speaks gently to you and brushes away a portion of hair that's covering your eyes," And we need to know what's wrong. Do you remember a few months ago when we came here and they put a needle in my arm?"

You do remember that. It was on one of hospital visits that you went on to see baby Jaume in Miss Olga's belly. They took some of her blood that appointment.

"They takin' my blood?" You ask shakily.

"They're taking a little bit of fluid from your back," Miss Olga explains," And they're going to test that for the illness they think you have. Like how they took my blood to make sure I was healthy."

You sniffle.

Mami and Ma-Jenni's hands are like shackles around your limbs, wrapped around your flesh and unwilling to even give you an inch.

"I'm scared," You whisper.

"That's okay," Olga whispers back," It's always okay to be a little scared. But you're doing so well. You're being such a brave girl. I'm sure it won't be much longer now."

You can feel the thing in your back moving and you try to shift with it but Ma-Jenni's hand clamps down on your hip and anchors you to it so you can't move again, not even a little rock back and forth.

"Hey," Olga says, pulling your attention away from what's happening at your back," Your Mami told me that you've moved up in ballet. I'm sure it's so much fun."

"It is."

"That's great! Do you want to tell me about it?"

Actually, you find that you do what to tell Olga about your ballet. Your words come out stilted and stuttered but you force them out of your mouth.

Olga smiles at you. She's got a pretty smile, you think. Mami must really love girls with pretty smiles.

"That sounds so cool," Olga says to you," You must be so talented." She leans a bit closer to you and you don't even feel the man taking the pointy thing out of your back. "Hey, maybe when you're all better, you can show me some moves. Only if you'd like to."

You duck your head down as the hands slowly leave your body. "Yes, please."

You're rolled onto your back but you keep your head tilted to look at Olga.

You don't know much about her apart from the fact that she's marrying your Mami and they had baby Jaume together.

Mami and Ma-Jenni are still talking to the doctor so you can fully focus on Olga.

She and baby Jaume look alike, you think. They've got the same eyes and nose and face shape. You think that baby Jaume might get her pretty smile when he's older too.

Her hand is gently resting on the side of your bed and you very gently move your own until your fingers are touching.

She hasn't got big hands like how Mami and Ma-Jenni's are big but they're still bigger than yours. They're safe too. You know this because she's never once dropped baby Jaume, even when she once tripped over and fell on her butt. She didn't drop Jaume once.

She smiles her pretty smile and you smile too, not even noticing when the nurse hooks you up to an IV.

"Hey, Bambi," Mami says," Everything's going to be okay now. I'm so-"

You stubbornly don't look at her and she frowns.

"Bambi?" Ma-Jenni asks," How's your back?"

You don't even deign her with an answer. It's still early and you're very tired. You don't want to talk to them, not when they pinned you down like that.

"I'm sorry," The nurse says," But I'm going to have ask you all to leave. The legal guardians can sleep over but that's all."

You don't know what legal guardians means but you do know that Ma-Jenni isn't one. She lives in Mexico for most of the year so she can't be your guardian because you don't live there with her.

She looks like she's going to argue but she doesn't. She reaches to give you a kiss on the forehead but you flinch away and she stops before her lips can press against your skin.

"I love you, Bambi," She says," And I'll be back to see you as early as I can."

You don't answer her.

It's just Olga and Mami left.

"I'm going to go sit with Jaume," Olga says and you frown.

"Jaume's sick too? Did I get him sick?" Your bottom lip wobbles.

"No, of course not." Olga says firmly," You and Jaume just got sick at the same time. It's very sad but it does happen."

"Really?"

"Yes." She heads to the door. "I hope you feel much better later. Maybe, if you feel up to it, you can tell me about your trains? Your Mami says that you love them a lot."

You nod. "Yes."

Then, it's just you and Mami left.

The nurse has set up a little bed next to yours for Mami to sleep on.

Mami seems a little nervous with you, pulling at the sleeves of her pyjama shirt. She looks at you.

You look at her.

You only saw her a few days again, when you painted pottery together and you asked her if you were wanted.

Mami doesn't sit in her bed, she pulls up a chair next to yours. She tries to reach for your hand but you pull it away before she can touch you, cradling it against your chest as you stare.

"Bambi," She begins before shaking her head and stopping. She takes a few moments before opening her mouth again. "I'm very, very sorry."

Those weren't the words that you were expecting.

You still don't answer though. If you blink, you can still feel her phantom hands over your body and the iron grip she had on your limbs.

She scoots the chair closer.

"I love you so much and I'm so sorry that you're sick."

She looks like she wants to say more but you don't really want her to keep talking.

"Bambi, I...I have not been a very good Mami to you," Alexia has to force the words out of her throat even if you give no indication that you can hear her," And I'm very, very sorry."

You still don't say anything. You just lie on your back with your eyes wide open.

"I'm sorry for what happened at home and I'm sorry for what a few-"

"I'm tired, Mami," You say, your voice quiet and exhausted.

"Right," Alexia says, scolding herself inwardly at keeping you up. It's still the middle of the night. "You go to sleep, Bambi. I'll be right here if you need me."

The stress of everything tonight seems to knock you out quickly but Alexia doesn't move to her own bed. She doesn't move. She doesn't sleep. She just stays in that seat even as a nurse pops their head in to confirm that both you and Jaume have bacterial meningitis.

A week hospital visit and IV's full of antibiotics is what awaits you both, baring any complications.

Jenni returns as soon as visiting hours begin again, pulling Alba and Eli in tow.

Eli diverts briefly to check on Olga and Jaume while Jenni and Alba come straight to you. You're still asleep when they arrive, lying on your back with a cannula in your hand to administer your medication.

"You look exhausted," Alba says in greeting, handing off a cup of to-go coffee to her sister," Did you sleep at all?"

"No." Alexia continues to stare at you, focussed on the soft rise and fall of your chest as you sleep.

"I'm surprised you're still here," Alba continues and, for once, her tone isn't biting. She seems genuinely surprised. "Haven't you got training?"

"I called off for the week," Alexia replies," And next week. It's more than enough time for them both to recover."

"You're taking time off?" Alba looks even more surprised than before. "Like, actually?"

Alexia doesn't know why that's so confusing. "Of course. My kids are sick. They need to be looked after."

Alba's mouth opens and closes a few times before she settles on something to say," How is Jaume?"

"Good, better. The doctors said that it's good we caught it when we did. The longer the rash is there for, the worse he could have gotten. It came up last night. We caught here as quick as we could."

Alexia's glad for that. She has no idea what could have happened, how much worse Jaume could have gotten if they had left it a few hours, let alone a few days.

Jenni is strangely silent at her words, reaching out to gently brush some of your hair out of your face.

"How long of a hospital stay?" Alba asks.

"About a week for both of them. The doctors said that they're going to do a hearing test with Bambi in a few days and then four weeks after she's recovered."

"And Jaume?"

"The same," Alexia confirms," Olga is with him now."

"Mama's with her," Alba says," We picked her up on the way."

There's a rustle of sheets as you blink awake. A yawn takes over your whole face as you wake up.

Mami, Ma-Jenni and Tia Alba are all looking at you and you pull your blankets up until they're over your nose.

You don't like the fact that Mami and Ma-Jenni are in the same room together. You can still feel their weights on you, pinning you to the bed as you struggled to get free.

You don't want them here. Not within arms length of you, in case they take your top away again and pin you down.

"Tia," You croak out and Alba pushes past Ma-Jenni to take your hand.

"You're not looking too good there, Bambi," Tia Alba says," How are you feeling?"

"Is Jaume still sick too?"

"He's getting a lot better. Your Abuela and Olga are with him now."

"Is Abuela and Olga going to get sick too?"

"No, don't be silly. Adults don't get sick like that." Tia Alba's teasing you. She's putting on a silly voice and it shocks a little giggle out of you. "I'm sure once your Abuela is done with baby Jaume then she'll be right in to see you."

"And Olga too?"

Alexia goes rigid in her seat. "Olga doesn't have to come in if you don't want her to."

You don't even acknowledge she's talking to you.

"No one has to come in that you don't want to," Jenni promises you but you don't give any indication that you heard her either.

"Olga thinks that I'm talented," You say to Tia Alba," She asked me about my ballet and my trains. She wanted to know more. Did you bring any of my trains?"

The bag on Jenni's shoulder is passed off to Alba. She digs through it, pulling out a spare change of clothes as well as a few model trains that had been shoved in there this morning.

"I want to show Olga my trains," You say," When she's done with baby Jaume." You run your trains over the bed, making little chugging noises with your mouth.

"I think that's a great idea, Bambi," Alexia says but you don't answer.

You haven't acknowledged her or Jenni since you woke up and it's put her on edge. Even when you were scared a few days ago, you still acknowledged her.

But your focus is purely on Alba but even that is hit and miss.

Whenever Alba reaches out to play trains with you, you flinch away. You look up at her in shock each time before glancing back down at your arms as if you can't believe you flinched.

"How are you feeling, Bambi?" Eli asks as she comes in.

You shrug and raise your hand. "They put a thing in my hand."

"They put one in your brother's too," Eli says," It's to give you your medicine."

"Did they put the thing in Jaume's back too?"

Eli nods. "They did."

Your eyes are haunted as you stare at her. "Did they pin him down too?"

Whatever bubble that the room was in bursts and Eli notices the way Alexia and Jenni both exchange a wide eyed look, like two little children caught red handed.

Eli has to think over her words carefully. "You're both very sick," She settles on eventually," Do you know why they had to put something in your back?"

You parrot back the words Olga told you and Abuela nods.

"That's right," She says.

"Olga says I was very brave even though I was crying."

"I'm sure you were the bravest little girl in the world," Abuela kisses your forehead but her lips feel too much like Mami and Ma-Jenni's and suddenly you can feel their hands on you again.

You kick your legs out and move your arms to shake the phantom hands off and they're gone as quickly as they appeared.

"Alexia, Jenni," Abuela says," Can I talk to you out in the hall?"

As they all leave, you look through the windows of your room.

Olga is lingering outside, looking into your room every so often before looking away.

"Tia Alba," You say," Can I still show Olga my trains?"

"Should I bring her in here?"

"Yes, please."

Ma-Jenni and Mami stay outside with Abeula for a long time but you don't even notice.

You've never talked with Olga like this before, not really. There had been a few moments when she was pregnant with baby Jaume where you watched things together and you helped her cook but you had never been like this with her before.

You hand her one of your trains and smile when she plays with you, gently moving the trains around your bed together.

"Is Jaume going to be okay?" You ask her because she's Jaume's mami and she knows things like that.

"He's going to be just fine," She promises you," And so are you. Just a few more days."

"I'm going to miss ballet," You say," That's bad. Mami never misses her training so I shouldn't miss mine."

"Your Mami's missing training now," Olga says," And she's missing it until you get healthy again. That's what you should focus on. Getting healthy again so you can go back to ballet."

"Mami is missing training? Why?"

"Because she wants to make sure you're okay," Olga says," Because she loves you."

You don't believe her but Olga looks very serious so you think that she must think that's true.

"Olga," You say," I'm hungry. When's lunch?"

She laughs a little bit about your blatant change of subject. "A few hours still," She says," How about I go to the shop and get you a snack?"

Olga slips out into the hallway where Eli is still lecturing Jenni and Alexia about their treatment of you. Your sobs and begging still rung in Olga's ears, the way that you cried and cried and begged and begged.

"She's hungry," She says, interrupting the lecture," I'm going to get her a snack."

"I'll come with you," Jenni says," I need a coffee."

The trip to the little shop was awkward, made even more awkward when Olga selected a plain chocolate bar only to have it plucked from her hand and replaced with one with caramel.

"She thinks the plain ones are too hard," Jenni says, almost carelessly," She doesn't like how they feel on her teeth. She prefers caramel."

Olga stares down at the chocolate in her hand, noting down another new thing in the column dedicated to you in her mind. It's painfully bare with only a few things - trains, ballet, the allergy she found out yesterday and now your favourite kind of chocolate.

She had told Alexia she wasn't threatened by Jenni and that's still true but that doesn't mean that Olga isn't intimidated.

Jenni just looks a bit intimidating with her tattoos and her height and the stern look on her face when it comes to you.

"Thanks."

It's silent for a moment as they both wander through the winding hallways back up to the peds wing.

"No," Jenni says eventually, shaking her head like she had been fighting with herself," I'm sorry, Olga. But I have to know...How could you let this happen? With Bambi, I mean? Stuff like this doesn't happen overnight."

Olga wants to bolt, to run and escape this but she holds herself firm as she scrambles to find something to say, knowing exactly what Jenni is talking about. "I didn't notice," She settles on eventually," It is wrong to say but it is true."

Jenni can't seem to understand though. "But how? Bambi is...How could you just not notice?"

"I just didn't," Olga says," And that was wrong of me. It was wrong of Alexia. We've talked about it...a lot...We're trying to move forward, for y/n."

Jenni looks at her, long and hard and Olga suddenly understands what rival players feel when they see Jenni come onto the pitch.

"Don't let it happen again," Jenni says firmly before taking off again, leaving Olga to scramble to keep up.

You're exactly as they left you, sitting in the middle of your bed. You're making chugging noises with your mouth as you run a train over Eli's arm.

Alexia is back in her seat next to your bed but you've scooched away from her as far as you can get.

"Caramel!" You cheer when Olga presents your food," That's my favourite! Thank you!"

"You're welcome."

You munch happily on your food a little but before you stop to scratch at your rash.

Automatically, like she did a few days ago when she first noticed it, Jenni takes your hand to stop you scratching.

You violently flinch away, tearing your hand away from hers. You scrunch your eyes closed firmly as you suck in air.

You can feel the hands on your legs again, forcing you to go immobile as the strange man pokes and prods at your back.

"No!" You cry out, turning away and curling up under your blanket," Stop it! Stop it, Mama! No bad touches! No more bad touches!" You kick your legs out. "No! Stop it!"

"Out," You can hear your Abuela say.

Eli-"

"Out, Jenni! Alexia, you too! Olga-"

"I'll go and see Jaume. He should be up from his nap by now."

"No! No! No!" You continue to chant as the blanket is pealed back.

It's not Ma-Jenni though. It's Abuela with Tia Alba hovering over her shoulder.

You sniffle if you sit up again.

"What happened, huh, Bambi?" Abuela asks," What was that about?"

"Mama hurt me," You say," When the strange man touched my back. I asked her not to! I asked her to stop!"

"I know," Abuela says," I know, Bambi."

"I didn't know what was happening," You say," It was scary and Mama wouldn't tell me what was going on."

It was very scary. You didn't think Ma-Jenni would do that to you, would pin you down and not explain what was happening. Mami could be harsh sometimes and you know she can be rough on the pitch too. She even said she was sorry while doing it but Ma-Jenni didn't.

Ma-Jenni told you to shh and pinned you down and didn't say sorry. You can still feel her hands on you, constantly pinning your legs down and pushing you further into bed.

She didn't say sorry at all and that's what scares you.

"I'm sorry that scared you," Abuela says," I'm sure Jenni didn't mean to."

"She didn't say sorry," You say," And she hurt me."

"Bambi-"

"She did! I'm not lying!"

"No one says' you're lying," Tia Alba assures you," I think you're telling the truth but, Bambi, you needed to have that done, so you can get better."

Ma-Jenni comes back when it's dark. There's no lights coming through your windows and the moon is out so you know it's night time.

Mami is meant to be sleeping on the bed next to you but she's not there.

The door to your room opens though and Ma-Jenni steps in.

But she doesn't look like Ma-Jenni though. There's something different about her. Maybe it's her too sharp features or her too pointed teeth. Maybe it's the curve of her nails or the way she's looming over you.

You can't move and Monster-Jenni's sharp claws dig into your legs easily.

You shriek but she's pressing her whole weight down onto the hand that's got your legs while her other one pins you down by your chest. You can't move. You can't stop her no matter how much you plead and beg and sob.

She's still holding you with bad touches and the strange man appears again. He's got too sharp teeth too and a massive needle that looks even scarier than before.

"Mami!" You cry as you jolt awake, gripping your bedsheets and screaming.

Mami's up like a shot, looking around like she thinks someone's hiding in the shadows. You're scared that Monster-Jenni is there too.

"Mami!" You sob, reaching desperately for her, your mind recycling her apologies as she held you down.

This time though, you crawl into her arms and sob, burying your face in her shirt as you cry.

For a moment, Alexia is in shock at your willingness to touch her. Whatever you had dreamt about must have been bad because you've curled your body around hers and Alexia very carefully curls her arms around you.

"It's okay, Bambi," She whispers," It's okay. It wasn't real. None of it was real. I've got you. Mami's got you."

"Mami," You whimper," Mami, it hurts."

"What hurts?"

"Everything!"

"I'm so sorry, Bambi," Alexia says and she knows that you know what she means, just like how you know she knows what you mean by everything," It's all going to be okay. I promise, this is all going to be okay. No matter what happens."

"I'm scared, Mami."

"I know, Bambi. I'm going to help make it better."

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #jenni hermoso x reader #jenni hermoso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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deadghosy · 2 months

Note

DUUUDE OMG as someone who had a HUGE creepypasta phase I'm obsessed with your hazbin hotel x creepypasta reader fics omggg

Anywaysss could I possibly request a Hazbin Hotel x Sally Williams reader? Completely platonic obviously :)

HAZBIN HOTEL X SALLY WILLIAMS! READER

prompt: a small child with a bloody body accidentally visits the hotel of a cartoon she only saw once

“BENNN! I wanna be in a cartoon..” you says whining to Ben as you grip your teddy bear. Ben rubs his chin thinking then smirks. “What kinda cartoon?” “One with friendship! Like My little pony.” You said with an adorable smile. “What about a better cartoon…” Ben said with a evil smile

And now you are now in the cartoon called Hazbin hotel as you just stood there sobbing at not seeing ponies. Where’s fluttershy? Where rarity? AND WHERE THE HELL IS TWILIGHT SPARKLE.

You must have caused a bad scene as Alastor had took your hand and brought you to the hotel for shelter. You told the “nice” man your friend made you come here making Alastor think you got killed by someone. But what’s a child like you doing here?…..

When the whole crew met you, they found you adorable but they were concerned on why a child, most likely a “human” child like you is in hell.

You have a room next to the next lesbian couple. After they cleaned you and having you wear shoes..which didn’t go well so they let you wear a new pair of white socks as you wore a cute pink dress.

Vaggie felt something about you was off. But she felt like heaven had not let you in. So she didn’t press any farther.

Angel gives you fat nuggets because he trusts you to look after him as he works. He never told you what he does for work but you enjoy keeping fat nuggets some company.

You dressed fat nuggets up as a pig princess. Angel found it cute and funny as he took a photo of it to remember the memory forever.

The most to baby you is definitely the Morningstars and Alastor a little bit. As Alastor felt to protect when he first seen you. He always tells you to smile at most to not let anyone see what’s underneath.

Alastor takes you on strolls at times. Even taking you to cannibal town where you can meet his dearest friend. Rosie, an overlord who takes on the cannibal town.

Rosie absolutely adores you! She called you sweetie pie all the time you visit her with Alastor.

I imagine you gave husk ponytails as he just grumbled drinking. He didn’t feel the need to scold you, you’re just a kid. Kids don’t know no better.

You and husk’s dynamic is “drunk uncle x pretty pink princess kid”

Husk hates to admit it but he likes your presence as you help him clean. Although he tries to tricks you to not clean the glasses so you won’t cut yourself.

Lucifer definitely tries to take care of you how he did for Charlie and it’s so wholesome as he would bring you ducks to your room that across of his.

He is such a overprotective father figure-

Angel and you have such cute fashion shows together as you both dress up like princesses💗

I headcannon that Charlie and Lucifer would spoil you rotten like getting you cute dresses or whatever you want as long as you are happy.

I can see that if it was your birthday, it’s as if Christmas and a birthday was combined as you get so much gifts😭

Niffty definitely teaches you how to clean as she always wanted to teach someone how to clean without ignoring her.

I can imagine you trying to contact Ben somehow as Ben is being interrogated back at the mansion as slenderman is chasing Ben with a pan demanding where you are at.

Sir Pentious lets you In on his machine shenanigans as you just smile with the egg boiz who hold your hands.

You showed your teddy bear to Lucifer who cooed at you as he made you a duck that had bear ears..you were weirded out at first but appreciated it. It was nice to get gifts! 💗

I headcannon you like greeting the residents in the hotel as they greet you back not excepting to se an actual human child in the hotel

I can see Angel dust having Velvette make cutesy outfits for you as he likes to see you as a little sister.

I can imagine you just doing that evil ass child laugh to scare the residents…you little ass menace

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bettysupremacy · 10 months

Note

maybe reader has some mean fake friends and james comforts her after something happens?

james saves his pretty girl from some mean girls!

“C’mon, baby, I know that’s cold.” James frowns as he tugs your top up. It’s wet, and embarrassing, but you don’t move.

Coke and vodka drip down your elbows, staining the pretty white fabric of your new top, and most notably, your pride. It’s a gross reminder that those girls aren’t your friends, they’ve never been your friends, and they’ll never want to be.

Tears well in your eyes, embarrassment mixed with shame. Girls could be so mean.

James takes a moment.

He’s seen you cry- believe him, but this felt worse. Worse than him walking in on panic induced tears. This was heavier, and more delicate by far.

“C’mon” he breathes again, his shoulders slumped. It’s impatient, but not unkind. James doesn’t have an unkind bone in his body, he just doesn’t know what do do.

You shake your head, eyes squeezing shut, letting the tears drip down your cheeks.

“My love.” He laments, taking you in his arms. “Please don’t cry.”

The embrace is a warm reminder that james is always there for you. Always has been. Who cares if some mean girls ruined your new favorite shirt?

You had other friends anyways, James thought, you didn’t need those girls. Mary, Marlene, Lily, and Dorcus, had never been unkind to you. He didn’t understand why you wanted the other girls to like you so deeply.

But he’s never been a girl, and he recognizes this morosely.

He pulls away, knocking the tears with his knuckles, and not bothering to wipe them on his shirt. “Arms up.”

You can hear Sirius and Remus kicking the girls out over the loud crowd of a rowdy party. Your lip wobbles, so early into the party and the funs been spoiled. “None of that.” James smooths the wrinkle in your chin with his thumb.

The silence following the splash of liquid had been deafening, and by far the most humiliating thing you’ve ever experienced.

You take a peak at your shirt. It’s brownish, and wet, and It’s worse than you remember it being 4 minutes ago. Is that possible? The heels of your palms come up to your eyes. “My top.” You grieve.

“I’ll get you a new one, don’t worry your head off.” He tugs on your shirt again, gentle, but it gets your attention nonetheless. “Arms up.” He whispers.

You lift them, letting James tug the shirt off and wipe down your wet arms before throwing it into the garbage pail next to the toilet. It sits on a mountain of tissue and Remus’s used contacts. You look at it hopelessly, wiping your palms of tears. “I don’t want a new one.”

He shrugs off his zip up, messily pulling it onto you and zipping it to your shoulders. Stepping back, he admires his work of an outfit change. “It won’t just be new, it’ll be better.”

He tries to smile for you.

“You didn’t like this one?” You ask, glossy eyes daring to peer at his own.

His smile drops. “Are you kidding?” He moves forward and his fingers press into your arms, messily moving up and down for the friction of warmth. “I loved that one.”

“Then how’ll my new one be better?”

He pretends to think. “You’ll be wearing it.” You scoff in disbelief and he laughs, loud and defensive, “I’m serious! I love anything you wear, especially my zip up.”

You look down at the black hoodie. “It’s a bit big, no?”

“But it looks good on you.” He shrugs.

“It doesn’t show anything.”

“You know that’s never mattered to me.” He smiles boyishly, fingers dropping to the crook of your elbows and squeezing a little tighter than before. It’s cheesy, but it works. He leans down, smile still plastered on his face as he goes for a kiss. It’s warm and sweet, but you can still feel his grin. He works his hands up to your neck and behind, avoiding the coke vodka mixture still coating your damp hair. “You know that.”

You push up his slipping glasses. “I know.”

His nose twitches, preening at the touch of your fingers. “D’you reckon they have a hair dryer?”

“Sirius definitely does.” You nod.

He giggles, dropping to his knees to open the sink cabinets. “Sirius is going to kill us.”

#james potter imagine #james potter #james potter x y/n fluff #james potter comfort #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter x you #james potter x wife!reader #james x you #james x y/n #james x reader #marauders fanfic #marauders fluff #marauders hurt/comfort #marauders fanfiction #marauders

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astermath · 1 year

Text

"So? Whatever." Pt.2

pairing: dave lizewski x popular!fem!reader

summary: after closing a deal with dave to let you borrow his comics while he pretends to tutor you, he finally comes over to your house. he’s confronted with the fact that despite your reputation of being damn near perfect, you have your own insecurities and issues. you’re confronted with how much you enjoy his company, despite having your reservations about him before.

word count: 2.4K

♡ LANDING PAGE ♡

notes: thank you for the likes and the reblogs, I really appreciate it! I really enjoy writing for this reader, there’s something so fun about being able to be so playfully mean. Please let me know if you’d like a part 3, and comments are greatly appreciated too!

[unknown]: hi, it’s dave! hope I typed in the right number lol

You look at your phone as it buzzed, squinting to see if you recognized the contact as you dried your hair off from the shower. You sat down on your bed and swiped up, smiling at the name. At least he didn’t forget to text. You saved his number under a new contact and started typing a reply.

[y/n]: sorry, I know a lot of daves. are you the one from the party last saturday, or the one from the football game?

[dave]: lizewski? the one who lent you the venom comic? brown hair, glasses?

You grinned to yourself, laying down on your stomach on the bed.

[y/n]: I’m just messing with ya, nerd. I remember you, how could I possibly forget?

[dave]: right

[dave]: sorry

[dave]: could you send me the address? and what type of comics you want me to bring?

You sent him your location and a couple of screenshots of your favorite franchises.

[y/n]: think you can work with that?

[dave]: yeah, totally! I’ll be there at 2 on saturday, is that ok?

[y/n]: totes, see ya then x

Dave stared down at his phone, eyes fixated on the little “x” you added to your last text. Everything from that day had already felt surreal, and now he was actually texting you. Or, well, he assumed so. This could all very well still be part of some really shitty prank, but you did seem genuine in your request. And what kind of guy would he be to just assume you were out to get him, just like all the others?

A smart one, probably.

But it was too late for second thoughts now, as he stood in front of the driveway to your house. It was huge, nothing like the houses in his neighborhood. He guessed that’s what all that lawyer money was good for. He walked up to the front door, his hand shaking a little as he reached out to ring the bell. He heard footsteps, taking a deep breath in and mentally prepared himself to be met by you as the door opened.

Instead, he was met by the eyes of an older man, slightly taller than him, who seemed less than pleased to see him at his front door. He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow as he looked him up and down. “Can I help you, son?”

Dave gulped, hands getting clammy inside his coat’s pockets. He was not ready to be confronted by your dad, especially because he’s the one you were primarily hiding things from. “I-I’m here to tutor—”

“My daughter?” He cut him off before he could say your name. “You the kid that’s tutoring her?”

“Y-Yes sir, that’s me.” He pulled out his hand, silently cursing himself for not wiping it on his pants before because of how sweaty it was.

Your father looked down at his hand, but before he could even shake it, your voice was heard from behind him. “Daddy, that’s for me!” You walked down the stairs, making eye contact with Dave as he tried not to melt right then and there because of what you were wearing. He usually saw you wear your cute, well put together outfits at school, but seeing you in your cute comfy shorts, with your hair put up… He only realized he was staring when your dad addressed him again.

“Alright, get inside. And shoes off.”

He obliged, quickly taking his shoes off as your dad walked back into the living room.

Not long after, he was met with the sight of your room. Shelves adorned with trophies, a vanity, a queen sized bed with a TV in front of it, a plush sofa, and a huge closet… He was pretty sure he’s seen whole apartments less nice than your room. But nevermind that, he was in a girl’s room, in your room. That was intimate no matter the scenario.

You sat down on your desk chair, legs crossed as you turned it on its wheels to face the boy scanning your room. He looked like he had landed in another dimension, eyes wide as he examined his surroundings.

“What’s so interesting?” You asked, not sure if he was looking for something or if he was just genuinely this impressed by your room.

“You have… A lot of trophies…” He fidgeted with the sleeve of his shirt.

You looked over to the shelf, smiling proudly. “All from cheering.” You pointed to the tiara on the shelf above it. “Besides that one.”

He remembers when you won prom queen in your junior year, though he’s not sure if he’d count that as a trophy. He’d never tell you that, though.

“So, you gonna give me my comics or are you just here to inspect my private property?”

Your comment snapped him out of his daydreaming and he quickly took off his backpack to take out a plastic bag filled with comics. “I-I didn’t know which ones you wanted specifically, so… I just took all the ones from the franchises you showed me.” He took the pile out of the bag and you got up to take them from him.

“Careful, it’s—“

Your arms almost gave out to the sheer heft of the pile before he caught them. “Jesus christ Dave!”

“S-Sorry, sorry, I didn’t realise they weighed that much combined!” He looks panicked, hoping you didn’t hurt yourself when the weight pulled you down.

“You carried these all the way here?” You looked at him in shock. There was no way he was that strong, not without you knowing about it. “What are you, some kind of secret body builder?” You watched him put the pile down on your desk, seeing the muscles in his forearm. Maybe you were wrong, you just hadn’t been paying as much attention to Dave as you apparently should have been.

He avoided the question, simply sitting down on the carpeted floor across you with his back against the side of your bed. Frankly, he knew he’d be better off saying nothing when it came to his physique, afraid it might reveal too much relating to his vigilante activities.

You looked through the pile, finding the sequel to the previous comic you had borrowed from him and pulling it out. Dave took his own comic book out of his backpack, and when he looked back at you, something had clearly changed.

Your face was now adorned with a pair of round, thinly rimmed glasses.

He blinked a few times to make sure his own eyes weren’t deceiving him, but no, he was seeing things right.

You look up from your page and raise an eyebrow. “Didn’t your mommy ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”

“You wear glasses.” He said, eyes fixated on your face. His usual aversion to eye contact seemed to have vanished all of a sudden.

“What?” You realized you hadn’t thought about it when you put them on. You didn’t usually have company over while you were reading stuff. “Oh.” Your face suddenly felt a lot warmer, embarrassment washing over you. “Yeah, I uh… I need them to read, at least. I get through the rest of my day without em just fine, they just look so… Stupid.” You paused, looking back at his face and realizing how mean that must have sounded to him. “Not that you look stupid! You look, uh… You look smart! Real smart, it’s just… They don’t suit me and I…His expression hasn’t changed one bit since you had put on your spectacles. You looked so different, in a good way. A really good way.

“Pretty.” He muttered.

“What?” You broke out of your embarrassed rambling.

“I think you look pretty. With the glasses. They suit you.” He smiled demurely, hoping that didn’t gain him some creep points.

You stared back at him. You’d been called hot before, sexy, gorgeous… But hearing him call you pretty, it was something else. There were no intentions behind it, he just needed to say it, like it felt right. You blink, trying to cope with the fact that the nerd you thought you had an upper hand on had turned your brain to mush with a single compliment.

“Yeah, uhm… Whatever…” You went back to reading. “…thanks.”

He smiled to himself as he picked up his own comic book again. You were surprisingly fun to talk to, it was almost as if he didn’t feel like he was getting judged for everything he was saying anymore.

And he could definitely get used to that.

A few hours pass as you both peruse through the pile. The silence is comfortable, only being broken if someone flipped a page or grabbed a new comic. He looked up and saw you holding the Spider-man collector’s edition he took a page out of, seemingly very immersed in the story.

“Do you like Spider-man?” He spoke up, hoping he didn’t annoy you by taking you out of the story.

“Oh, uh…” You adjusted the glasses on your face as they kept slipping down your nose a bit. “Yeah. He’s like… pretty cool I guess.” You had so much to say about him, so much you wanted to gush about, but you couldn’t help but still feel a little ashamed about your interest.

Dave looked at you expectantly. He knew that look, the same look he had whenever someone would call him any type of name at school for being a top shelf dork.

And in that moment, you realised you both had something in common. Except he lived his life unashamedly being a dork, and you were concealing it.

“Alright, so,” You got up from your chair and sat down on the floor next to him, your shoulders touching as you held the comic to your chest. The excitement nearly poured out of you as you couldn’t contain your words, going over everything you liked about him. His background, his personality, his originally handmade suit, his unique powers…

Dave watched you speak with a dreamy smile on his face, your face glowing with happiness. He never thought you’d looked more beautiful, just unapologetically being yourself in front of him. He didn’t once try to interrupt you, he wouldn’t dare to, you just looked so cute gushing about this comic book hero.

“And the fact that… He’s just some kid, right?” You looked into his eyes as he nodded along with you. “Like, he never got any special training, or fancy gear, or anything like that. He could have lived every day of his life pretending he never got bitten by that spider, and live happily ever after, but no! He took matters into his own hands, because he wanted to make a change, because he cared about the people around him.” You smiled, not realizing you had grabbed Dave’s arm and were squeezing it a little to emphasize your words.

He blushed, feeling like that description fit his own endeavors pretty well. He looked into your eyes and for a second, felt the urge to lean in. It took about as much strength as it did to carry those comics to not do so.

You let go of his arms and held your legs close your chest. “But that upside down kiss with MJ… That’s gotta be bullshit. There’s no way you can kiss someone like that.”

“I don‘t know,” Dave responded. “I feel like it would be kinda fun. It doesn’t look that hard.”

“Oh yeah? How would you know?” You turned your head to look at him and gave him a cocky grin.

His face flushed pink and he regretted saying what he said. He just gave you the perfect bait to tease the ever living hell out of him. “W-Well, I… I can imagine that… From my experience… It’s…” He stammered.

You let out a soft giggle, amused at his embarrassment. “You’ve never kissed a girl, have you?”

Dave gulped, words stuck in his throat. But you had opened up so much to him, it wouldn’t be fair to not do the same. “I, uhm… No. I haven’t.” He let out a bit of a defeated chuckle.

An idea sprung alive in your head, a dangerous but intriguing glint in your eyes as you bit your lower lip slightly.

“Would you want to?”

Dave had heard you say a lot of shocking things, but that might just take the cake. His cheeks burned hot as the blood rushed to his face, his hands staying steady on his own thighs to not show they were trembling a little. He didn’t know what to say, this was all happening so quickly.

Before he could respond, you were leaning in, eyes on his soft lips, only inches apart—

“Sweetie! Come down for dinner!”

Your eyes snapped open and you pulled back, looking at Dave before glancing over at the door. Thank god they didn’t come up to knock, that would have been the death of you. You take a deep breath and get up, gesturing with your hand for him to do the same. “You should uh… Probably head out.”

He sat there a bit longer than he should have, a million thoughts going through his head before the sound of your voice finally got through to him. “Right, sorry… Don’t wanna overstay my welcome.” He gathered his comics and went downstairs with you to put on his shoes and coat again.

You opened the door for him and he looked back at you to say goodbye. “Thanks for having me over, I had a good time. I hope you did too.” He smiled shyly, hands in his pockets.

You smiled back, reaching up to ruffle his brown curls. “Don’t mention it. And don’t die on the way back, shit’s dangerous out there these days.”

He nodded, giving you a quick wave before heading out, the feeling in his chest warming up his entire body. He felt like he could take on anything, a feeling that would absolutely come in handy later when he’d be face to face with New York’s criminals.

You went back upstairs and sat down at your desk, noticing he’d left something. It was the special collector’s edition you’d been gushing about earlier. You ran your fingers across the damaged front page, smiling to yourself.

Dave was looking in the mirror, adjusting his costume a little and checking if he had everything he needed with him. A buzz of his phone got his attention, and a giddy boyish grin spread across his face.

[y/n]: so, same time next week? xx

@nephilimsss

(lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list for this fic and other dave lizewski works!!)

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nhlclover · 5 months

Text

i think he knows | adam fantilli

word count: 1.31k

summary: after pining for one another for a while, you finally make a move

warnings: not proofread, the section written in italics is a flashback, mentions of drinking, little bit of steamy activity and allusions to sex, kissing

notes: based on ‘i think he knows’ by taylor swift. first adam fic... not sure how i feel about this, it's kind of a mess

You were starting to go cross-eyed from staring at him so much.

Every chance you got, whenever Adam was preoccupied in a conversation with Dylan who was standing next to him, you’d catch a glance at him.

You were out at a bar in Nashville, celebrating Adam being drafted by Columbus. Adam had invited tons of people to be in his group of support for the draft, including you.

You and Adam met in class, being partnered together for a mini assignment. Over the course of the project and the rest of the school year, the two of you became close friends. Somewhere along the way, you’d developed feelings for him. However, you couldn’t work up the courage to tell him how you felt. So you stayed friends. Close friends.

His right hand was gripping his glass of whiskey, beads of condensation rolling down to his knuckles. You eyed him as he brought the glass to his lips and took a sip. Your brain was wracked with images of his hands running up and down your sides, getting to know your body like it’s his own.

“Can you quit staring at my brother like that? It’s creeping me out.”

You turn to face Luca whose face is scrunched up in disgust.

“What?” You say.

“You’re looking at him like you’re being starved and he’s a fucking filet mignon.” Luca scoffs, sipping from his beer.

Your cheeks heat up, trying to defend yourself against Luca. “I’m not…we’re not…I don’t like him like that.”

You immediately regret even saying anything as your words come out rushed and unsure.

“Oh please everyone here knows you two are drooling over one another and frankly it’s disgusting.” He says.

You sigh. “Is it that obvious?” You ask.

“Are you kidding me?” Luca asks, a grin tugging on his lips. “The tailgate party for the final football game of the season? Do you remember that?”

Adam knew what he was doing. He had to. He was wearing the UMich t-shirt you had cut into a tank after you told him he needed more variety in his wardrobe. You had also added that tanks were hot on guys. He had to be wearing it for you, right?

But then again there was the chance that this was all in your head. The flirting that Adam had been doing since you’d finished your joint assignment could all be in your head and was just him being nice.

Suddenly Adam was on his way over to you and your friends, who made an excuse to leave so the two of you could talk alone.

“Your DIY is a hit.” He says.

“I am an artist if I do say so myself.” You chuckle, fiddling with the choppy left sleeve of Adam’s shirt.

Your fingers brush his skin, a slight rush running up your fingertips. You look at Adam’s face, a soft smile on his lips as he looks down at you.

“What?” You ask.

“You look good.” He says.

“Thank you.” You smile.

There’s a beat of silence while the two of you hold eye contact.

“What, you’re not going to tell me I look good?” He asks.

You scoff at his cocky comment. “I don’t need to tell you something you already know.”

“Oh, you think I look good?” Adam smirks.

“That is not what I said.” You say.

“Mhm, but that’s what you were thinking.” He laughs.

Your cheeks flush pink, Adam smiling at the reaction he got out of you. He rests a hand on the wall, leaning over you.

“I’m serious, you look amazing.” He says.

Your cheeks flush even pinker, if possible, Adam slowly leaning his head down.

“Get a room!”

You and Adam turn your heads to where some of his teammates are. All of them are staring at you, smirking and laughing at the two of you. Adam flips them off, turning back to you. “I’m sorry about them.” He sighs.

“I-it’s okay. I’m going to go find my friends.” You say, weaving through the crowd to find your friends.

Adam walks over to his friends, a fake smile on his lips. “I hope you guys are all impotent.” He says.

“You’re blushing just thinking about him.” Luca groans.

You glance over to Adam who you find looking right back at you.

“Listen,” Luca says, drawing your eyes off his brother. “Go to him. Get out of here, and take him with you.”

“Are you whoring out your brother?” You ask jokingly.

Luca rolls his eyes, pushing you towards Adam. You walk over to Adam, stopping next to Dylan. When Dylan sees you, he makes an excuse, leaving the two of you alone.

“I just wanted to say congrats, again.” You say.

“Thank you.” Adam smiles.

“I’m going to head out now, though.” You say. “Go back to the hotel…”

You trail off, hoping he would pick up what you were putting down. Looking down at you, you feel your heartbeat skip under his gaze. “Okay.” Adam says.

That’s it? You furrow your eyebrows slightly, expecting Adam to have picked up on what you were insinuating. You are slightly confused until a smirk begins to tug on his lips. You should’ve expected this, as his attitude was a common thing you got to see. Something you’d always wanted to force away.

He stayed silent, not offering you much more than his eyes dragging up and down your body. Was he going to make you spell it out? If Adam was going to make you jump through hoops, you were at least going to do it under your terms.

“Yeah, go back… Get out of this tight dress, maybe take a hot bath… Try on my new set from Victoria Secret…” You trail off.

Adam gulps, and you can practically see him imagining you in a matching lingerie set. You had him obsessed with you and you completely understood why.

“Fuck.” He mumbled, shifting his feet to try and adjust himself.

You giggled, liking the effect you had on him. You rest your hands on his chest, flattening his dress shirt. You can practically feel his racing heart in his chest.

“Of course, there’s always room for a plus one.” You say softly.

That’s enough to push Adam over the edge, grabbing his glass from the table and downing the remainder of his drink. He takes your hand, pulling you out of the restaurant. You briefly stop by Luca, Adam asking him to tell their guests that he wasn’t feeling well so they were going back to the hotel. Luca agrees to cover, sneakily holding his hand out to high-five you as you pass him.

You and Adam step out into the warm Nashville air, walking down the sidewalk toward the car that Adam had rented. He hands you the keys, seeing as he had drunk and you hadn’t. You slide in the driver's seat, Adam’s hand finding your thigh immediately.

You start up the car, turning onto the street. You hit a light, looking over at Adam, whose eyes hadn’t left your face since you got in the car. The streetlights lit up his face, his normally light blue eyes looking like a darker indigo colour in the nighttime.

You continue down the streets of Nashville, eventually pulling into the parking lot of your hotel. You two were fast into the lobby and into the elevator. As soon as the doors shut, Adam’s hands were on your hips, pressing you against the metal wall. His lips connect to yours, your hands going into his hair. He deepens the kiss, causing you to instinctively tug on his roots, eliciting a groan.

When the doors open, you split apart, darting down the hall to your room. Fumbling with the keycard, you eventually unlock the door, you and Adam slipping inside, your tongues a tangled mess.

#adam fantilli #adam fantilli x reader #columbus blue jackets #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #umich hockey #umich

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whatsnewalycat · 7 months

Text

what do you need?

Pairing: BratTamer!Joel Miller x Brat!F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 3.7k+

Warnings: no show spoilers, established relationship, non-canon compliant, post-outbreak, smut, swearing, brat “taming”, D/s dynamic, dirty talk, degradation kink, praise kink, pain kink, impact play, collar wearing, maybe might have taken a snippet of dialogue from how the world works by bo burnh@m for horny reasons, unprotected piv sex, crying, shower, overstimulation, choking, spitting in mouth, fluff

A/N: I feel like this story is going to be presented as evidence when I'm rejected from the pearly gates post-mortem. Happy birthday to Joel Miller, sorry your birthday was a huge bummer that one time. Big big smoochies to @frannyzooey for helping me with several things and just generally being awesome.

[ my masterlist ] [ taglist ] [ AO3 ]

You’re having one of those days.

You know.

The kind of day where everything you come into contact with barbs into your flesh and tugs at your nerves.

Noises out on the street too loud, cupboards too empty, coffee too weak, counters too cluttered, shower too cold, clothing too tight—fuck, even your skin feels too fucking tight.

Overstimulated.

Exhausted.

Restless.

You’ve given pieces of yourself out hand over foot, and now you’re at a deficit and the world around you is still hungry, even though you’ve been picked to bare bones. Everything is too much and too little all at the same time.

The toddler that lives in the apartment above yours is throwing a temper tantrum. The kid’s defiant screeching rubs against your brain like fiberglass until all four walls of your living room feel like they’re closing in around you, squeezing you out like a tube of toothpaste, suffocating you.

And you’re thinking: If I don’t release some of this pressure I might go all fucking Hindenburg and explode.

The apartment door swings open, and Joel walks in, his broad shoulders all slumped like he’s carrying the goddamn weight of the word. He glances over at you as he slides the chain lock closed, “Hey, darlin’.”

You look up from your place on the couch, where you’re hunched over crossed legs, elbows digging into your thighs. All sharp angles and tense muscles. Without responding, you return your attention to the glass of moonshine dangling from your grip. Swirl it around a little. Take a big swallow and try not to wince as it burns down to your belly.

Joel stands there for a beat, watching you, waiting for your manners to kick in. When they don’t, he huffs and stomps into the kitchen. Cupboard doors slam and glass clinks as he searches for a clean cup, then pours himself a drink.

And, christ, he’s so fucking loud.

Every noise he makes is an exclamation mark. A shard of glass pressing into your eardrum. A sliver wedging further and further under your fingernail.

He walks over, eyes glued to you, each heavy footfall a stubborn grain of sand that won’t leave that space between your toes no matter how much you wiggle them.

By the time his weight shifts the couch cushions and sets you off balance, tilting in his direction, you know what you need.

You need to get under his skin like he’s under yours. To push him until his edges are hardened and sharp to the touch. You need him to pry open the emergency hatch and empty your mind.

“What’s wrong?”

Your nostrils flare. You bring the cup to your lips and take another big, burning swig of bootleg liquor, then say, “Nothing.”

“Nothin’,” he repeats, his voice low and disbelieving, “Now, why don’t I believe that?”

You sit up and glare at him, meeting his dark eyes, all shadowed by his drooping brow as he tilts his blank stare at you.

Excitement flickers inside you. You tilt your head right back and drop your voice, mocking him, “Reckon it’s ‘cuz I got a fucken attitude.”

His jaw tightens, mouth flattening into a straight line as he narrows his eyes at you, “You gonna talk about what’s got your panties all in a twist, or just be a nuisance about it?”

You bat your eyelashes at him and shrug.

“I see,” he searches your face, turning his wrist in slow circles, moonshine sloshing around in his cup, “You know, if you need me to do somethin’ for you, or… to you, all you have to do is ask. You don’ need to do this whole thing.”

“What thing?” you blink. Play dumb.

His eyes roll a little as he brings the glass to his lips and tips it back. Taking its contents all in one swallow, he slams the glass down on the end table with a thunk. Shaking his head, he looks at you, “Are you fuckin’ done?”

You smirk at him, dragging your eyes up and down his body. He’s studying you with this stern stare, teeth clenched, the muscles in his jaw twitching like little warning signals: PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

A warm fluttering starts at your center. Setting your glass down, you crawl onto his lap. He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t do anything but watch your face as you drag your fingernail along the tightened line of his jaw.

Threading your brows together, you coo, “You’re just so cute when you’re angry.”

“That’s enough,” he grabs your hand and squeezes it hard enough to make you gasp with delight, then says, “Open your mouth.”

“Make me.”

It happens so fast.

One hand on your forehead, the other gripping your jaw, yanking your mouth open.

“Stick your fuckin’ tongue out.”

You do.

You hear it first. The squelch of him gathering moisture. He spits onto your tongue, his saliva moonshine flavored and melting into yours. He does it again, then groans as he rubs it into your tastebuds, the rough pad of his thumb scraping against the tender muscle.

“So, what, you had a shitty day, now you’re actin’ out? Tryin’ to get me all worked up so I punish you?”

The words are all hoarse and heated against your cheek. His cock twitches beneath you and you grind into him, tongue still stretched out.

He spits on it again.

“Is this what you wanted, you little shit? Hmm?” he tugs on your chin, “Do you like it when I spit in your fuckin’ mouth?”

“I like it,” you tell him, nodding, placing your palm on his chest.

His throat rumbles like he’s pleased. He loosens his grip, then brushes his thumb against your bottom lip, glancing down at your mouth, “Do you want more?”

“Yes—yes, please.”

“Much better,” he purrs, “Open.”

You open your mouth wide and stick out your tongue. Another hot wad of spit plops down on it, moonshine flavored, Joel flavored, and you moan.

He cups your cheek and murmurs, “See? You can be a good girl. Can’t you?”

Sparks sizzle up your back bone. You nod and bat your eyelashes at him, closing your mouth and swallowing his spit, sliding your hand through the soft patches of gray in his beard.

His throat rumbles. Dark gaze flicks from your eyes to your lips, ”Now, tell me, darlin’, what do you need?”

The question trickles down the middle of you and twists into a stubborn knot. Your heart flutters when your lips part, but courage dies in your chest.

You shake your head and mutter, mostly to yourself, “It’s stupid.”

His brow furrows just slightly.

Heat blooms in your chest and on your face. Nervous energy makes your throat bob and your tongue go numb, and you shake your head, “Sorry.”

He fully frowns now, searching your face, “Sorry? What for?”

You shake your head again, dropping your gaze, and clamp your mouth shut.

Joel releases a big sigh, curling your body into his, and kisses your forehead. He murmurs against your skin, “Do you trust me?”

“With my life.”

He lets you sit in the wake of your own answer. The weight of his expectant silence wriggles under your skin and makes you squirm. You cast your gaze downward and shrug, “I don’t know.”

He’s quiet.

When you glance back up at him, his expression has softened into one that makes your heart ache. It’s almost doleful, the way he looks at you.

“I don’t know how to explain it, I feel,” you intertwine your fingers with his, “Empty here,” you pull the clasped hands to your chest, “But full… in-in my head. Everything feels like too much—I don’t know, Joel.”

The tears that prick your eyes take you by surprise. Usually you keep these pesky blue feelings to yourself, so as not to burden him. You should be used to this world by now. Your skin should be thicker.

You feel weak.

Pathetic.

Shame rips through you. More tears erupt from deep within your chest and stream down your cheeks, burning the whole way. A rush of adrenaline pumps through your body. It tinges your blood cold and makes you panic.

You let go of his hand and bring your knees to your chest, burying your face between them, blubbering, “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t,” he sighs, not quite sure what to do with this, and slides his warm palm up and down the curve of your back, “It’s—it’s ok.”

All you can do is shake your head. It’s not ok. He doesn’t want someone like this. A crying, sputtering mess. Someone who gets upset because, what, noises seem too loud?

“Look at me, babygirl.”

You can’t help the whimper that bubbles up your throat. He only uses the term of endearment during rare, tender moments. When he needs you to know, really know, that above the games and the rules and the agreements behind the locked door of this apartment… he cares for you.

You sniffle and wipe your tears on the stiff denim of your work pants, then peak up at him.

He searches your face, and says, “Let me take care of you.”

Your eyebrows thread together and your lips part. He just keeps staring at you like that, so earnest, his eyes fertile earth you could take root in.

“Ok,” you whisper.

“Go take a shower. You can be a good girl and do that for me, can’t you?”

“Yes.”

You stay there for a moment, eyes locked on his, and ask, “Can I have a kiss?”

He hums, dropping his gaze to your lips, “How do we ask?”

Heat coils around you. He studies your movements as you unfold yourself and sit up straight, then climb on top of him, knees framing his hips, “Can I have a kiss… please?”

His hands land on your waist, “Course you can.”

You slide your palms up his chest, his neck, to cradle his jaw, then lean in to capture his lips in yours. The kiss is molasses and moonshine. Syrupy and rich. Intoxicating. It warms your insides and leaves you wanting more.

When he pulls back, he smooths his touch around your backside and gives your ass a firm smack, “Go on now.”

You try on his Texas accent and tease, “Go on, git,” and start giggling when he blinks at you, then add, “Ok ok I’m going!”

“You’re lucky you’re cute, y’know that?” he calls after you as you scamper into the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

You pull back the shower curtain, flip on the hot water, and strip off your clothes. The weak stream splatters hot against your skin when you step inside. For a minute, you just stand there with your eyes closed, relishing the warmth.

The bathroom door opens, then closes.

You wash your hair as Joel strips off his clothing into a pile on top of yours. His shadow on the shower curtain grows, then disappears as he pulls it back and steps inside. Your eyes close as you tip your head back into the water stream and massage the conditioner from your hair.

He plants his palm at the small of your back and brings himself closer. A soapy washcloth meets your bellybutton and moves in circular motions, working up a lather. When he hits a weak spot, and a tickle shoots up your body, you giggle and grab his wrist.

“You don’t like it?”

Feeling through your wet hair for any remaining gobs of conditioner, you open your eyes to meet his, grinning, “I do, I’m just ticklish.”

His lips curve into a smirk and he shakes his head as he returns his attention to the task at hand, scrubbing the day’s grime off your body. The hot water works with his meticulous attention to dull the serrated edges under your skin.

“Turn.”

You do, taking a backwards step towards him. Your nerves tingle with want, the snarled tips of them all stretching in his direction, untangling to beckon him closer.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and starts on your back. Your shoulders relax under his praise. Under the firm pressure of the washcloth scouring your skin. He draws circles down your spine, around your hip, between your legs, leaving a trail of suds for you to rinse off.

When he’s finished sudsing and you’re finished rinsing, he says, “Go wait for me in the bedroom,” so you swap places with him and squeeze the excess water from your body and hair. You step out onto the bath mat and wrap a towel around yourself, then tiptoe into the bedroom.

Across the patchwork quilt, Joel laid out your collar. You dry yourself off and fasten the leather strap around your neck, then wait for him in the middle of the bed with your legs crossed.

When Joel enters the room, it seems to shrink around him. Every inch of him is gleaming and dewy, his hairline all steely gray and combed back into damp, dark waves. He appraises you while tucking a ratty towel around his waist. You feel your shoulders pull back. Your spine uncurls, pointing straight at the ceiling.

His eyes flick around the room as he walks to the side of the bed and hooks a finger in the little loop of your collar, tugging you to your knees. You crawl to him, following his firm guidance until you’re eye-to-eye and just an inch or so apart.

Under the squeaky-clean soap scent lies something so unmistakably Joel. Woodsy and masculine, it cattle-prods your heart.

“What am I gonna do with you?”

Heat sparks from deep within you and blooms in your guts, your cheeks. You feel yourself arching towards him, leaning closer, trying to taste his breath.

Some smart-aleck answer parts your lips, but he preemptively interrupts you.

“Rhetorical question.”

An amused smile twitches the corners of his mouth.

His mouth.

You stare at it, fingertips buzzing with energy, yearning to feel the soft curve of his plush lips.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes flick to his, smoldering but critical. A wide, calloused palm lands on your waist and slides around to your backside, cupping the heft of your asscheek. You swallow hard. This thick, pulsing ache starts between your legs and makes you whimper. An attestation to your pliancy.

His throat rumbles and he pulls a sharp breath through his teeth. Joel likes the noise, because he knows what it means. It means you’re putty in his hands. Giving yourself over to him, letting him take control. He digs his fingers into the tender flesh of your ass and smirks when you gasp.

“That’s what you need, hmm?”

You nod, eyebrows drawing together, batting your lashes at him.

He doesn’t let up. Quite the opposite, actually, he grips you harder, rumbling out, “Jus’ need someone to take care of you? Fuck the angry out of you?”

Again, you nod.

He tugs on your collar, “Use your words.”

The grasp is bruising and constant and fucking delicious. Dropping your gaze, you breathe, “Yes si—”

“Look at me.”

Your cunt clenches around nothing as you comply, meeting his lust-blown eyes.

“Yes sir.”

“That’s better.”

Joel releases your ass cheek and tugs at your collar.

When his lips meet yours with a firm, ravenous kiss, urgency overcomes you. You clamber closer, hooking your hands behind his neck, dragging your nails through his damp curls. Each time the kiss renews, it gains traction, intensity, evident in his nips and groans, and his harsh, wandering touch. Grabbing your ass, your tits, your thighs. Pinching your nipples so hard you gasp and nod.

He buries his fist in your hair and pulls back, panting, “Turn around ‘n’ bend over.”

You do, reluctantly parting from his lips to spin 180° and raise your ass in the air, pressing your ear to the mattress.

“Close your eyes,” he knocks your knees further apart, and when you comply, letting your eyelids flutter closed, he murmurs, “That’s it. Now you’re gonna sit there and take what I give you, hmm?”

The rough pads of his fingers trail electric up your seam, ghosting along the hungry, aching nerves. You gasp and nod, “Yes sir.”

His throat rumbles, and his fingertips start to work your throbbing clit in hard-pressed circles. He’s heavy-handed in the way he touches you. It’s not delicate, or teasing, or gentle—it’s fucking perfect. Heat bubbles up your middle and spreads across your skin, pulling a whimper from your throat.

Joel’s free hand slides up your spine, his palm pressing firm and slow across every vertebrae, coaxing you to stretch your backbone, arching your hips towards him.

“There we go, that’s my good girl—”

You moan at the rush of pleasure his praise gives you. Your heart starts to thud, heavy and thick in your chest, and his hand between your legs starts to work you faster, jolting your center.

“Fuck, Joel—”

Another gravelly sound surfaces from his chest. He slaps your ass, hard and firm, and you gasp at the sharp sting. He does it again. The smack rings in your ears and the divine pain it’s coupled with resonates deep in your bones. He does it again and again and again, all the while rubbing your clit in vigorous, tight circles, growling out, “All fuckin’ wound up, acting out, this is what you needed, hmm?”

“Yes yes yes yes—”

The feeling at your center grows and spreads, building building building—then it swallows you whole. Your body convulses with pleasure so acute and overwhelming, you try to pull away from him, to close his hand between your thighs, but he grabs your hip and kneels on your calf, keeping you spread open.

“Don’t you run away from this,” he barks as you let out a choked sob, “You take this fucking like a good girl, you hear me?”

“It’s—fuck, it’s it’s—”

You want to tell him it’s too much, but the tide of pleasure draws you back with violent force and washes over you again. The noise that comes out of you is guttural, barely human, this half-howl, half-cry. It’s excruciating and overwhelming and so fucking good.

Joel chuckles, “That’s it, let it go, darlin’.”

You do. A sensation overtakes you, that’s warm and secure. The weight strapped to your shoulders, that skin-too-tight, noises-too-loud sort of feeling melts away and you nod, “Yes, sir.”

He withdraws his hand from between your legs and grabs your waist, bringing your bodies closer. The head of his cock nudges against your entrance and he plunges forward.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” you gasp as his thick, throbbing length slides into your well-lubricated cunt.

He splits you open cell-by-cell, his own needy moan mingling with yours, and tells you, “God, your pussy—fuck, that’s good—”

There’s no warm-up period. No sweet, slow strokes, or whispered words of comfort, or gentle anything. Immediately, he’s fucking you hard and fast. You push back against his harsh thrusts, each impact devastating and intoxicating and heady with a feral energy that fills your body with static.

Joel closes a fist in your hair and yanks, tilting your head to the ceiling, and you let out a long, sick moan that makes him groan with delight. His arm slips around you and pulls your back to his chest. Your head falls back on his shoulder, mouth gaping open to babble out, “So fucking good, fuck fuck fuck—I fucking love it, Joel, holy fuck—”

His big hand wraps around your throat and squeezes, restricting your airflow, and you let out wheezing, gasping breathes as he grunts in your ear, “Yeah you fucking do. Pussy jus’ needs a good pounding, that it? My little slut just needs to get fucked, hmm?”

You whimper and nod, as much as his grip will allow. His fingers crush your pulse, leaving you light-headed. The scraps of breath you manage to take in carry the sharp, tangy scent of sex. You revel in the feeling of him filling you over and over, each roll of his hips collects electric at your core, gaining traction and energy.

When you look up at him and meet the corner of his dark, lust-blown eyes, he releases his grip on your throat and pulls you into a heated kiss. Both of you start to take in short, frantic breaths, passing soft moans back and forth. That gooey static in your middle grows and grows. Your limbs start to quiver and you cry, “Oh my fucking god, Joel—you’re gonna make me come—”

“That’s it, babygirl, let it go.”

You do.

You let it consume you, a bright, blissful warmth that pulses through every inch of your body. Joel moans as your cunt clenches down around him, then pulls out in time to shoot his load onto the bedspread.

For a moment, the only things in existence are the two of you. His ragged breath in your ear, your heaving chests and empty minds.

He departs your body and stretches out on the bed with a groan. You only feel his absence for a second before he hooks his finger into your collar’s loop to pull you closer, “C’mere.”

An obedient creature, for the time being at least, you follow the suggestion and curl up at his side. You smooth your palm up his heated chest, all dewy with sweat, and admire his broad frame. His distinguished features. While surveying the map of scars and wrinkles and grays on his rugged exterior, your gaze meets his, and you find a remarkable softness there.

He seems to study you with the same sort of reverence as you do him.

“You’re beautiful, y’know that?”

It makes you smile, which, in turn, makes him smile. A gorgeous and rare spectacle. The expression carves out a dimple in his cheek and crinkles the corners of his eyes.

You scoot closer and kiss him, your lips soft, gentle. He kisses you back in a similar manner, slow and sweet, twisting your brain in a big, beautiful kaleidoscope of emotions.

The intimidation you felt when you met him, still hot-to-the-touch after all these years, tumbling around with tiny glimmering glass bits of desire and apprehension and pride and excitement and awe and dread and security.

And love.

Of course love, even though neither of you dare look at it directly. Only suckers allow such a thing to exist in this world. But it’s there, nonetheless. Weaving its way through each fragmented shard, pulling it all together.

#pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #joel x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #tlou fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #brat tamer joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #whatsnewalycat writes

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 2 months

Text

Body Like A Back Road: Part Two

Read Part One

Joe comes to terms with the fact that he can't take back his confession, and it may change his relationship with you forever

Warnings: smut, language, mentions of funeral, angst

A/N: I didn't really expect this to turn into such an angsty mini-series, but here we are lol

"You've gotta be fuckin' kidding me."

Joe was looking for an outlet for his frustrations, and he found it in the 600 lb. vending machine that was holding his bag of Lays barbecue chips hostage. It had to be way after midnight, the hallway empty and eerily quiet, the only sounds from the mechanics of the machines around him.

He ignored the buzzing from the overhead lighting and the hum of the ice machine next to him, as he sized up his opponent. He faced off against an o-line bigger than this all the time, but unfortunately, he wasn't wearing any padding right now, and the other team usually DIDN'T smack HAVE smack HIS smack DINNER smack HOSTAGE.

He threw his shoulder against the machine a couple of times, rocking it back and forth, before giving up, the bag still suspended between the glass and the coil. He roughly pulled his wallet out his back pocket, pulled out a couple dollar bills, and went through the motions again, stabbing his finger on the buttons A and 3. The mechanics whirred as another bag of chips was pushed forward, tipping before it ultimately landed on top of the previous bag. Now he was out four dollars with nothing to show for it.

At some point tonight, between agonizing over his confession of love to you and trying to get you to answer your damn phone, he must have fallen asleep on the rock hard mattress in his room and woke up starving. This hotel was severely lacking in amenities, the only source of food the stale snacks in the vending machine at the end of the hall.

Joe hated hotels. They always smelled kind of funny, he could never get the air condition to cool the room enough to his preferred sleep temperature, and he hated the thought that someone else had slept on the same bed before him. Still he didn't hesitate to join you on this road trip, knowing it meant leaving his comfort zone. You meant a lot to him, for whatever that was worth now.

"C'mon you piece of shit", he mumbled under his breath as he punched the glass, which didn't budge, before resting his forearm on top of the machine, hanging his head in defeat. He could try to pretend he was angry at the machine for swallowing his dollar all he wanted, but he knew it had nothing to do with that and everything to do with the fact that he had just told his best friend, the only solid relationship in his life, that he loved her, and her response was sheer confusion. "You sure do know how to fuck up a good thing, don't you?"

His head quickly turned to the side at the sound of footsteps, another hotel guest watching having caught his tantrum. They looked stunned, and honestly a little bit disturbed, which he really couldn't blame them for.

"How much of that did you see?", Joe muttered out just above a whisper, the patron stone faced and unmoving, ice bucket in hand. Joe gave him a quick nod and rushed past him, just hoping and praying he wouldn't see a headline about him on Sports Center tomorrow.

He immediately felt a thin layer of condensation on his skin as he entered his room, throwing the key card on the desk and heading directly for the balcony. The door stuck as he tried to open it, giving him trouble as he closed it back with a slam.

Your contact was at the top of his recent call list, unsuccessful attempt after attempt filling up the rows. He pressed your name again, holding up the phone to his ear as it rung a couple of times before going to voicemail.

"Hey this is Y/N, I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave me a message"

Your relationship was a lot of things: messy, intimate (he had the bite marks to prove it), surprisingly cathartic, to name a few.

The one thing it wasn't: love.

Joe had been in love before. It made him sick to his stomach, unsure of himself in every conceivable way, and it always ended up the same way, with him regretting ever having uttered the three words.

With you, things were easy. The sex was amazing; he was blushing just thinking about the events of earlier that night, and you didn't hound him for answers to questions he couldn't possibly answer or try to force vulnerability out of him. Things between you two just were the way they were, they settled exactly where they were supposed to, no muss, no fuss. He had no intention on ruining any of that on this road trip, but it slipped out, and he wholeheartedly regretted it.

So why did he say it then? Why did he say he loved you if he wasn't in love with you?

His feelings for you started building when you guys were just friends, but you both were just moving at different speeds it seemed, and if you weren't in a relationship, he was hung up on someone else and the time just never seemed right. You both ended up in the same city by a pure stroke of luck, but he was so focused on his career and trying to cure his only loneliness, he entered this agreement with you instead of confessing his feelings, simply because it was easier at the time.

Joe had a hard time keeping up with you, metaphorically of course. A big part of him had felt you slipping away for quite a while. He knew where he was going to be for the next couple of years, his contract with the Bengals determined that, but you were never sure, allowing life to take you were it wanted to in the moment. You made it clear from the jump that Cincy wasn't where you saw yourself settling down, and even if you were just "fuck buddies" by definition, he didn't want to lose you. He couldn't imagine a life where you weren't in it, and he knew that once you left, your relationship, and most importantly, your friendship was as good as dead.

He leaned forward on the railing, taking in the subpar view of the main road of whatever small town they were in, the warm air hitting his face, the smell of cigarette smoke burning his nostrils. This road trip had opened his eyes to one thing: your friends with benefits relationship was going to end eventually, and he wanted, no he needed you, after it was all over.

Who the hell was he kidding? He told you he loved you because he did love you, and he was hoping that he meant enough to you to make you stick around. Sure, he didn't go about it in the best way, but he meant what he said, and he needed to make sure you knew it wasn't a slip of the tongue.

If you weren't gonna answer your phone, he'd go to your room and try to explain everything to you. He had to fix this before you got back on the road tomorrow.

When he went to pull on the wooden balcony door handle, it let out a couple of squeaks, shaking in his hand, but it wouldn't budge. Figuring it was giving him trouble again, he pulled with all of his might, straining his bicep muscle, but the door wouldn't open.

This had to be some twisted, fucked up joke. He was stuck out on this crappy balcony, cigarette butts piled in the corners, the neon McDonalds sign cascading a dull yellow on the side of the hotel building, and he had no way of getting back into his room.

His hand was shaking as he pulled his phone out his pocket and called you again, this time being sent straight to voicemail.

Your phone was either off or it had died. Fuck. He dialed the front desk, but just as the call connected, the line went silent. He pulled his phone down to see the flashing red battery symbol on the screen. His own phone was dead, and he had no way to call for help.

He rolled through his options. He could try to break the glass door but it was very thick, and he didn't have anything to throw through it. He looked over the edge of the balcony. He was only a couple floors up, he could jump down, but the potential for injury took that idea out of the running.

Frantically looking around, he realized he really only had one option.

With his long arms he could just barely reach the edge of the neighboring balcony. He could try and jump over and try to get into the next room over. The room was completely dark, and there was a chance that no one was occupying the room, but he had to try.

His sneakers squeaked against the painted concrete as he propped his foot on top of the balcony and lifted himself up, clinging to the side of the building. He was able to easily step over to the next balcony, jumping down into the cement box.

He didn't need to peek through the window as the curtains were wide open and the room was empty, the sheets still balled up on the bed, waiting for turn down service.

He went through the motions again, stepping over to the next room... that was also empty.

He was tired, hungry, and irritable, growing more frustrated by each passing second, but he sure as hell wasn't going to sleep outside tonight, so he lifted himself up for the third time, jumping down into the balcony. At least the light was on in this room, the curtains just barely open. He felt bad for looking in, but he was desperate.

You had just gotten out of the shower, your hair dripping wet, a towel tightly wrapped around your form. The blue light from the TV flashed across your face as you dried off your hair. Joe couldn't help the smile that crept on his face as he watched you move around the room. He really did love you. He felt the familiar knot in his stomach, but not one that made him sick, one that made him excited. He only felt that way when he was around you.

Your head snapped around when Joe rapped his knuckles against the glass, startling you.

"Fuck!", you screamed out, cowering against the bed, gripping your towel tightly in your fist.

"Can you let me in?" Joe asked with a chuckle as he pointed to the door lock, his voice muffled by the thick pane of glass. You let out a huff as you crossed the room, unlocking and sliding the door open for him.

"What the hell are you doing out there?", you pointed a finger at him, "and how the hell did you get on my balcony?"

Joe threw himself back on the bed, sighing as he closed his eyes, exhaustion hitting him like a ton of bricks. "Your phone is dead.", he grumbled out, almost about to fall asleep. You grabbed your phone off the nightstand to confirm that he was correct.

"Yeah, that doesn't answer either of my questions."

Joe opened one eye to look up at you. "Balcony door broken. Locked out of room." You rushed over to the balcony, stepping out to survey how much of a jump he had to make. "So you decided to hop balconies? Do you know how badly you could have hurt yourself if you fell?" You weren't in the mood to go at it with Joe after the night you had, but that wouldn't stop you from chastising him for doing something so stupid. "You're lucky you didn't fall to your death."

Joe watched you as you turned away from him to get dressed, holding your towel up so he wouldn't be able to see your naked body. "You know its nothing I haven't seen right?"

You scoffed, "Joe, I'm not in the mood right now, okay?" You rolled your neck to alleviate the tension you were feeling in your body. Joe sat up, positioning himself on the edge of the bed, his elbows propped on his thighs. "About that..."

You snapped the band of your sweatpants around your waist, stopping his train of thought. "Joe, please don't do this. I just want to forget what happened between us and just go back to the way things were. I liked the arrangement we had." You squeezed the last drops of water out of your hair with your towel. "It was working for both of us."

Joe paused for a second, his gaze falling to the ground. "What if it wasn't working for me?" He could only imagine the look on your face, because he couldn't dare to raise his head.

You were frozen in place, not sure of how you felt. You were so confused; this confession came out of the blue, and while you cared so much about Joe, probably more than anyone else who came into your life, things were just too complicated to go down that road. You didn't like complicated. You liked simple, your life demanded simple.

"Are you going to say something?" Joe let a sharp breath out of his nostrils, his jaw flexing as he finally looked over at you. He could see your wheels turning, and the longer you were silent, the more he knew he wasn't going to like your answer.

You crossed your arms over your chest, digging your fingertips into the spaces between your ribcage. "No."

"No, what? No, you don't love me? No, you don't know how you feel?" Joe raked a hand through his hair, an incredulous look on his face. "I need a little bit more than no."

"No", you shifted your weight between your feet nervously. "No, I'm not going to say anything. I just want to go to sleep, get my car in the morning, and get the fuck out of this town." You stuffed your things back into your bag. "This was a mistake", you mumbled under your breath, but he caught every word.

Joe jumped to his feet. "Finally something we can agree on. Me coming with you on this trip was a big fucking mistake." He paced to the door, his hand roughly gripping the handle. "If I knew that we were going to end up here, I would have kept my mouth shut." He swung the door open harder than he intended, hitting the wall with a bang.

He took a single step before stopping in the threshold. That pep talk he gave himself before coming over here wasn't for nothing.

In the blink of an eye, Joe slammed the door shut, grabbing you by the waist and pinning you against the wall with his hips. You could barely let out a gasp before he crashed lips with you, the kiss hard and passionate, his hands cradling the back of your head, holding you in place. You pushed at his chest to break away for a breath, taking in his face, his eyelids heavy with lust. "What the hell was that?", you whispered, unable to look away from his pink, swollen lips.

He tone was even, his voice a low rumble. "Tell me that you don't love me, right now, and I'll drop the subject forever. We can go back to being fuck buddies, or nothing. Whatever you want."

Your chests heaved in unison as you contemplated Joe's ultimatum.

"I-", the word was came out as a squeak, your throat drying up as you tried to speak. You didn't know what you were going to do, but you knew you didn't want to lose Joe.

You grabbed the back of his neck, roughly kissing him again, pulling his bottom lip between your teeth as you made out. You were glad he was holding you up, as every inch of your body went numb, your fingers and toes tingling with excitement.

Joe pulled away for second, a smile on his face as he looked at you, moving back to kiss you again as he lifted you up, carrying you to the bed.

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