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hwaslayer · 24 days

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after hours (jwy) | one shot.

—summary: an invitation to wooyoung’s event leads to the unexpected— a night of revelation that deeply blurs the lines between harmless fun and the thrill of exploring something more.

—pairing: dj!wooyoung x f!reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) fwb to lovers | smut, fluff

—word count: 5k

—content/warnings: cussing/mature language, dj wooyo playing his first club event!, songs in wooyoung’s setlist can get pretty explicit so pls proceed with caution, throwing some ass back at the club lol, alcohol consumption and intoxication, hella chemistry between these two, friends with benefits but with lots of feelings lol, oc x woo are in denial tho hehe, lots of teasing and flirting, kisses, making out, praising, marking, pet names (baby, babygirl, love), unprotected sex, oral (f. & m. receiving), hand job, woo gets slightly rough, nipple play, missionary, doggy, sorry if i missed anything!!

—a/n: this piece came super randomly, but i was inspired by needs x tinashe / after hours x kehlani and needed to whip this baby out ASAP. enjoy!!

💿 wooyoung's setlist 💿

“Thank you.” You sweetly smile at the security guard at the door, brushing your way past the hefty line that ran down the block with your bestfriend, Yeosang. The club is already incredibly packed from wall to wall, the music’s vibrations felt at the base of your feet. For a minute, you didn’t actually think you’d make it inside in time. The security guard at the door wasn’t taking your sweet smiles, frowning as you bat your eyelashes in hopes of letting you skip the line simply because you knew the DJ. He definitely didn’t believe you, nor was he trying to give you the time of day. You didn’t let up though, and as if on cue, he received confirmation from the team inside that you and Yeosang were a part of the DJ’s crew.

Thank god.

Because that line was not it.

“It’s so fucking loud in here!” Yeosang yells as he turns back to look at you amidst the crowd chaos.

“We’re almost there!” You squeeze his hand as he platonically holds onto yours, leading you to the front of the crowd and up to the DJ booth.

“Never invite me out again if you just plan on seeing your boyfriend or whatever.”

“Not my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, whatever. Close enough.” You laugh when you finally approach the steps up to the stage, the security guard letting you slip through with Yeosang right at your hip. Heading up to the stage, you greet your friends Mingi, San and Yunho as they dance around with a few other familiar faces and sip on their drinks. Wooyoung is the main DJ for tonight’s event, and he’s having the time of his life— doing what he loves to do, with the people he loves most around him. The crowd is feeding into his energy as he smoothly transitions into the next song, dancing and singing along before finally breaking contact from his mixer and glancing over at you.

“Woo!”

“Whattup! You made it.” He smiles, bringing you flush against him for a hug and a chaste kiss to the temple. You blush at his attempt to subtly squeeze at your side, biting on his bottom lip before shifting his headphones enough to partially cover his ear. The thing about Wooyoung is that you adore him. You adore him because he’s been one of your good friends for some time now. You adore him because he brings you happiness, because he’s a good time. You adore him because of these unspoken feelings, that unlabeled ‘friends with benefits but everyone knows you two are feeling each other so why hide’ kinda thing. You haven’t done much besides innocently flirt around, make out a few times, dance at events together, engage in a few heated conversations over the phone, full send with the thirst traps. The chemistry is well and alive; you suppose by now you and Wooyoung would’ve figured things out since it was too obvious to your friends already, but the both of you seem to brush it off, still shying away from it— afraid of ruining the dynamic that’s already there with said label. Something that started off so fun, so innocent, ended up digging a little space in your heart, making you feel things you shouldn’t for your ‘lil past-time.

But, Wooyoung would move mountains for you, just so you know. He’s dying to make this different. Different from the others, different from anything he’s ever dealt with. Because you are different, and he’ll show you every chance he gets.

“Aw, look at you supporting Woo at his event.” Yunho pinches your cheek, his own painted with a red tint from the alcohol he’s been downing.

“Of course. He was so excited about it, ever since he started planning it out and everything.”

“You guys make things so complicated for no reason.” Yunho laughs. “Despite the friends with benefits bullshit, you know we can tell you two actually have feelings for each other, right?”

“Wow, I didn’t know I came to the club to be lectured by Jeong Yunho.” You laugh, gently pinching at his arm. “We don’t like each other. That’s all we are.” He rolls his eyes.

“Continue to convince yourself if that’s easiest, Y/N. Just want you two to be happy.” You lick your lips, jolting at the sudden roar that comes from the crowd when Woo transitions into another hype, upbeat song.

“Aye, can we get some shots, please? Gotta take one with Yeo and the pretty ‘lil thing right there.” He signals by making a glass-shape with his hand, tilting it back a few times until the bartender off to the side throws him a thumbs up. He looks at you with a smirk, quickly winking before he’s grabbing the mic and hyping the crowd up some more.

The shots turn into two, three, five maybe, before the world is spinning a little more than usual; off-balance and vision slightly blurry. You’re still coherent, and you’re still able to make sense of your surroundings. But the one thing you do find yourself struggling with is how good Wooyoung looks at the table. You try to brush it off, dancing around with your friends and loudly singing along to the songs that blast through the speakers.

“Having fun?” Wooyoung sets the headphones off to the side and steps back from the table to enjoy some company for a bit.

“Yeah, you’re not so bad after all.” You playfully punch him on the bicep and he laughs.

“You look so good tonight.” He says in your ear, pulling you flush against his body again— hand resting on the small of your back. “Gonna give me a bit of your time?”

“I don’t know, should I?”

“Tease. All those pictures and you can’t even spare me a minute.” He taps your nose and heads back to the table. It’s a few more minutes of Wooyoung hyping the crowd, San and Mingi both welcoming lapdances from a few cuties they met throughout the night while exploring out on the floor. Before you know it, you’re pulled mid-conversation with Yeo and Yunho— familiar hands resting on your waist. You feel Wooyoung push against you, guiding your hips against him for a dance. You love dancing with Woo because it’s fun, and there’s no pressure or expectation to be a certain way with him.

You live for that shit.

And tonight, you need him a little more than usual. In more ways than usual. Tippy-toeing into dangerous territory that makes you wanna act on your feelings.

You’re having to hold onto the edge of the table as Wooyoung bends you over ever so slightly, letting you work your ass against him to the music. He bites onto his bottom lip as he focuses on you, only you, matching your rhythm to the beat. You change your position, no longer leaning onto the edge of the table; back only inches away from Wooyoung. You lean to the side in order to get a better view of him from over your shoulder as you work your ass in slow, circular motions against him. The both of you let out a few laughs in between, focused on each other as if no one else was around. The grip on your hip tightens when Wooyoung’s free hand glides down your back in an effort to bend you over again. Your hands fall to your knees, picking up your pace to match the new song that comes on.

Wooyoung matches your energy so well it’s no wonder you never want to dance with anyone else the same way you do with him.

The dancing with Wooyoung continues for a bit more before he’s tapping out, tapping your hips once the song finishes. You stand to put some distance between you two, but he keeps you close; arm wrapped around your waist when you turn to look at him.

“I swear to God, Y/N.” He leans into your ear. “You make everything so difficult for me.”

“Doubt that.” He chuckles.

“Oh, you have no idea.”

“The DJ is being fake and forgetting his set!” San teases. You blush and push him away, allowing him to get back to his craft in the meantime.

The next two and a half hours go by with a breeze, and you find your energy diminishing as the night continues to go on. You find yourself hugging closer to the wall behind the stage, leaning your head against Yeo’s shoulder— watching as San and Mingi continue to dance around and find a few pretties to get to know. Wooyoung turns over his shoulder a few times, tugging on your hand, flirting with you in a way he knows will get you to fold so quick; buckle at the knees, shyly giggle against him from all the cute ‘lil compliments that slip from his lips.

“Tryna go soon?” Yeosang asks near your ear. “Kinda over it.” He laughs.

“Yeah, I am, too! Let me just say goodbye to everyone.” You head to Yunho first, giving him a bear hug before letting San and Mingi playfully hug you and spin you around. “Hey.” You tug on Wooyoung’s hand, causing him to shift the headphones up so he could hear you.

“You’re leaving?” He frowns a bit.

“Yeah! Time for us to head out.” You smile, but he pouts.

“Where are you going?” He looks down at you, brushing the hair away from your face. “Don’t wanna stick around to grab a bite to eat with everyone after?”

“No, I’m tired. Yeo and I are probably just gonna grab something quick on the road before he drops me off.” He pouts even more.

“Gonna make me miss you.”

“Don’t say stuff like that, Woo.” He continues to pout anyway, hand coming to squeeze your side again in an endearing way.

“Can I text you later, then?”

“If I’m up.”

“I need you to be up. Please?”

“For what, exactly?” You chuckle.

“Your company.” He puckers his lips. “Tryna give me a kiss before you head out?”

“Get out.” You laugh.

“Just fuck and get together already!” Mingi says loudly with a hearty laugh. Woo turns to flip him off before shifting his attention back to you.

“Okay, please?” He repeats. “Promise me you’ll be up?”

“Get back to the crowd. I’ll be up.” You reassure him, gently pushing him towards the table. He nibbles at this bottom lip before heading back to his set. You nod over to Yeosang and start making your way out of the club, holding onto his hand as he leads the way again. Once you get outside, the cold air feels good against your sticky, warm skin. You let out a deep breath, keeping your body close to your bestfriend to keep some kind of warmth.

“I don’t know why you just don’t tell him.” Yeosang says as he continues to walk alongside you on the way to the car parked on the opposite end of the block.

“I have nothing to tell him.”

“Y/N, please.” Yeosang chuckles. “We know.” You roll your eyes and sigh.

“Why is everyone on my case about him tonight?”

“I don’t know, maybe because you two should just quit the act and get together already?” He snorts. “You should at least try when you guys get some alone time later.”

“Who said we will?”

“I know you, you’ll stay up for him.” Yeosang gives you a look before gently nudging you. “Until then, what do you wanna stop by for?”

“I don’t know, I’m not too hungry. Truthfully, I’d be satisfied with some good ol’ fries and an ice cream cone.” You laugh and Yeo nods while swinging his keys around his finger.

“Got it.” He unlocks the door. “Get in princess, we need to get your fries and ice cream before Woo comes over.” You scold him as you settle into the passenger’s seat, recalling some events from the night as he drives off to the nearest fast food joint for the best fries nearby.

When Yeosang finally drops you off at home, you’ve completely devoured your fries and ice cream cone, and you find yourself slowly dragging yourself up to your studio. The club had just closed, so you weren’t expecting to hear from Wooyoung for awhile. You let out a satisfied sigh when you slip out of your shoes, kicking them off to the side before tossing your bag and keys onto the table. You make a beeline for the shower, more than ready to wash off the club and get into something comfortable. It’s a quick one, though; a good 10 minutes under the hot water with that coconut body scrub you love so much before stepping out and lathering up with some body cream. You toss on an oversized shirt and crash onto your bed, feeling incredibly happy to be in your own safe space.

You wonder what Wooyoung is doing.

It’s crazy because at this point, it feels like the universe is listening closely to your thoughts— especially when a ding comes through on your phone and puts a big smile on your face.

wooyo: cutiepie

wooyo: are you up 🥺 say yes

you: lol yeah i am.

wooyo: fuck yeah! you kept your promise!

you: excuse, since when did i ever break a promise with you?

wooyo: never, that’s why you’re perfect for me

you: shut up lol

wooyo: lol 😙 can i slide through and hang out for a bit?

you: mhm! what happened to eating out with the boys?

wooyo: bruh san got too fucked up so we all ended up going our separate ways

you: wooooow hahah hope he’s good though?

wooyo: he’ll be fine. did u and yeo actually get some stuff to eat?

you: yeah we did. you should grab something for yourself before heading over

wooyo: nah it’s all good. i don’t care too much for it, just need your company. be there in 15?

you: sounds good! front door’s unlocked

wooyo: hot, she can’t wait either

you: stop while you’re ahead jung wooyoung

wooyo: oop hehe woops 🤭

It wasn’t anything new to have Wooyoung come over, but he usually comes to hang out for an hour or so before he’s leaving to head back to his own place. The good thing about Wooyoung is that even though there’s this deep chemistry, this longing for each other, he never forces anything. Never pressures you.

So, he comes through. He gives you a few kisses and gives you a few laughs from his jokes. He cuddles you for a bit before he’s saying his goodbyes and struggling to get himself out of the door.

It’ll probably be the same tonight, maybe.

It feels different because you loved seeing him in his element, and you loved having fun with him. It also feels different because your friends were all up in your case about him— now, you can’t really get the idea out of your head. That maybe, you do really, really want something with Wooyoung and you’re afraid to admit it. Afraid he might not feel the same even though he’s never done anything to hurt you or show you otherwise.

Maybe, you’ll finally take that leap tonight and just go for it.

Say fuck it.

In the end, at least you could say you tried, right?

Amidst all your overthinking, you surprisingly do fall asleep in those 15-20 minutes. You’re awoken by your front door closing, along with Wooyoung’s loud ass keys dangling from his keychain and hitting his thigh with every step he takes.

“Did you fall asleep?” He giggles when tosses his belongings onto your desk and plops onto your bed.

“I did fall asleep for a bit.” You yawn and fix your position a bit, Wooyoung laying next to you on his tummy.

“I didn’t even take that long, did I?”

“No, but I can’t be tired?! Damn.” He snorts.

“Sorry, sorry.” He kisses the tip of your nose, his arm draped over you. Hand caressing your side under your shirt. His hand is warm, but it tickles against your skin and raises a few goosebumps at how smooth his touch is. He looks at you for a split second before he leans in to peck you on the lips, smiling into the kiss just as he pulls back. “So, did you have fun?”

“I did. You played a good set tonight, Woo.”

“I did, huh?” You laugh.

“Did you have fun?”

“It was so fucking fun.” He laughs. “I just wished you stayed ‘till the end. Everyone seemed boo’d up and I was just the lonely ass DJ playing for the crowd.”

“Please. I’m sure you still had fun until then.”

“I did, but it wasn’t the same without you.” You give him a tiny, toothless smile, hand brushing through his soft black hair.

“When’s your next one?”

“Why, huh?” He smirks. “An excuse to dance up on me again?”

“Excuse you, you pulled me for a dance!” You playfully swat him on the shoulder.

“Yeah, and? I’ll do it again at the next one.” He pulls out his phone. “I’m doing something next weekend with a few other DJs. Wanna come?”

“Sure. I don’t think Yeo would go, though. I practically dragged his ass out for this one.”

“Okay.” Wooyoung types something on his phone before tossing it aside, full attention on you again. “Promise me you’ll actually stay until the end. Gimme a chance to show you off, too.”

“Wooyoung.” You giggle. He tickles your sides, causing you to squeal and kick your feet before he lets you breathe. You find Wooyoung staring at you again, and it causes your heart to do major flips.

“You’re so pretty, Y/N. You looked so damn good tonight.”

“You did too, I guess.” You tease and he bites onto his bottom lip, leaning forward for another kiss.

“Tease. Hate it.” He presses his lips against yours, holding it for as long as he can before he pulls back. “Why don’t you wanna kiss me in front of our friends, hm?” He presses another kiss to your lips, edging closer to your body so he could comfortably throw his arm around you.

“Because we aren’t together.” You giggle.

“Shouldn’t we change that?”

“Don’t say shit like that, Wooyoung. I told you.”

“I mean it. Why can’t we be? I don’t necessarily have anything to hide.” Wooyoung kisses at the corner of your lips. “Unless you do?”

“I don’t.”

“So, tell me. Why can’t we be?” He asks again, close to a whisper, lips grazing the surface of yours. You don’t say anything, no. Instead, you feel like your actions could do the talking for tonight. Your actions could tell Wooyoung what you’ve been feeling all this time, your actions could tell Wooyoung how much you’ve been longing for him— longing for something more, longing for something deeper than the surface.

You make the first move and push into his lips, instantly deepening the kiss. Your hands tug at the ends of his hair as the two of you fit in each other’s molds so perfectly; teeth clashing against each other in a fit of desperate need, tongues fighting for dominance. Hoping the answer would be evident in the way you move so well with him. “Fuck, baby.” Wooyoung breathily responds as you bite onto his bottom lip. He moves down to your neck and licks across the surface, gently nipping and sucking faint marks down the column. You feel Wooyoung’s hand squeeze at your hip before he pauses at the material of your panties, threatening to slip them down and toss them off. Everything suddenly feels so heated, too intense, too quick— you’re afraid there isn’t a way to come back from this anymore. “Y/N, if you tell me to stop right now, I’ll stop.” He feels your hesitancy, almost hears you thinking outloud. “Whatever you wanna do.”

“N-no. Keep going.”

“You sure? Cause if I keep going, I won’t be able to stop, you know that, right?” He gently nips at your chin while teasing the edge of your panties. “Been wanting this for so long, I won’t be able to help myself.”

“I want this too.”

“Yeah?” He smirks while finally pulling your panties down and tossing them onto the floor. “Gonna let me finally take care of you?” He kisses you once more before shifting his position to be in between your thighs, hands gripping at ‘em while he presses light kisses in your inner thighs. He smirks to himself and bites onto his bottom lip when he sees you bare underneath the shirt, causing the heat to rise to your cheeks.

“Woo.” You shyly throw an arm over your face.

“Don’t do that.” He chuckles and gently tugs on your elbow. “You’re so fucking beautiful, shit feels too fucking good to be true right now.” In a blink of an eye, Wooyoung presses a light kiss against your pussy— sending tingles straight down your spine. He indulges in how reactive you are, gently easing himself back down onto your heat to give you what you deserve. You let out a breathy moan when Wooyoung latches back on and continues his work on you; tongue working up and down, licking in between your folds. The pleasure makes your back arch in response, another moan slipping from your lips and sounding like music to Wooyoung’s ears.

“Oh my god.” You let out with a silent moan. You whimper when Wooyoung slips in two digits, pumping into you at a quick pace while his mouth continues to lap at your clit, sucking in between to taste every single drop of you. When he pulls out, you take the opportunity to grind against his mouth; aching to feel the friction you so desperately need, want, from him. “Oh fuck, Woo.” Your moan is a little louder this time, causing him to groan against you as a way to egg you on towards the finish line. “Just like that, please. I’m gonna—” You whine, repeatedly cursing to yourself until you feel that coil within you suddenly snap and throw you off guard. Your moans bounce off the walls and Wooyoung is sure the couple upstairs can hear it loud and clear.

Oh well.

“Did so well for me, pretty girl.” He kisses your inner thigh, leading a trail up to your knee. He sits back onto his knees and removes his shirt, the tent in his sweats making you drool the more you fixate on it.

“Woo.” You look at him with a tiny pout. “Can I?” You sit up in order to reach him and palm hin gently.

“Mm, baby.” He lets out a small moan. “You don’t have to, I just—”

“Please?” You beg with those eyes and Wooyoung can’t help buckle at the knees. You’re already helping him out his sweats, and he feels the urge, the desire, to find out how your pretty lips feel wrapped around his dick.

The image alone drives him to insanity, and he can’t wait to see you sucking him off like the good girl you are.

He swallows the lump in his throat when he watches you pump him slowly, taking your lips to his tip. He hisses when you lick away at the pre-cum pooling at the top of the head before lowering your mouth down his length.

And, fuck.

Wooyoung feels like he’ll lose himself right at this moment. He tilts his head back in pleasure, letting out a small, guttural moan when you work your mouth [and hands] on him. He gently tugs at your hair, pushing you a little further down his length just to test the waters. But, you take him anyway, and Wooyoung wants to fucking combust. You look so, so pretty with your lips around him, and it doesn’t help his cause when he feels his dick hit the back of your throat; pushing him to the highest of highs, purest ecstasy.

“Fuck—fuck.” He groans. “Baby, wait. You’ll make me cum.” He lets out a breath, eyes focusing on you. He pulls you back just a bit, caressing your cheek when he sees a faint tear streak coating the surface. “I need to be in you. Now.” You bite onto your bottom lip and settle back onto your back as Wooyoung slots himself back in between your legs. He takes your shirt off at the same time, tongue licking a stripe up your cleavage before leaving wet kisses along the swell of your breasts. He quickly pops a nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling around the puffy bud before repeating the motions with the other.

“Shit.” You hiss. “Wooyoung, please.”

“Please, what?” He teases. He has that shit-eating smirk on his face as he sits back and watches you squirm, pumping himself slowly while he waits for you to respond. “Hm, sweet girl?”

“Need you.”

“Where? Care to tell me again?”

“I swear to God if you aren’t fucking me in the next 2 minutes—” He laughs as he lowers himself back down, just enough to hover over your body and plant a feathery kiss on your lips.

“Say please.” He smiles. “Besides, do you have a condom? I swear I haven’t been messy or anything, you know this. But I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m on the pill, so please.”

“You sure?” You nod, hands resting on his shoulders. He does a subtle nod before he lines himself up at your entrance and eases in— the both of you letting out gasps while adjusting to the feeling. It already feels too good with the way he fills you up and makes you feel full. For Wooyoung, it’s the way your walls wrap around him so nicely that makes him truly believe you were made just for him.

Only him.

Once he bottoms out, he sits in the position for a second before he slowly rocks against you. Wooyoung begins to pick up the pace when he feels a little more comfortable, pressing kisses on every inch of your skin that he possibly can while whispering sweet nothings against the surface. He praises you so, so well, it has you whimpering a mess underneath him— only wanting more of Wooyoung, only wanting to feel every bit of his soul intertwined with yours at this very moment.

Only him.

“God, you feel so good Y/N.” He lets out a breathy moan into your mouth. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you. Everything about you is so perfect.” He moans. “So pretty and so perfect.” He picks up his pace, hips working a little sloppier, a little harder. “Just for me.” He sits back and rests his hand on your hips, pounding into you in such a majestic way, it almost has you seeing stars right then and there. You continue to praise him, letting him know how good he’s making you feel, and how you need him just like this.

Only him.

“Switch for me.” He removes himself quickly and directs you to your fours. He wastes no time slipping himself back into you, the new position and angle enough to make you two crave more and more of each other. Once he buries himself to the hilt, he keeps a steady pace as his hands explore every curve of your body, pressing kisses against the base of your neck;

Shoulders.

Back.

Tracing your spine.

“Feels too good.” You mewl, Wooyoung’s name slipping from your lips repeatedly like a song, a mantra. He continues to pound into your from behind— ass cheeks sore and red from the impact, from Wooyoung’s hands.

“Wanna make you mine.” He moans in your ear as he thrusts a ‘lil harder, a ‘lil rougher than the last. “Can I, babygirl?”

“Y-Yes.” Your response is almost broken by a cry that’s released, an immediate reaction to how hard Wooyoung is fucking into you.

“Say it louder. Can’t hear you. Can I make you mine, baby?” He repeats, thrusting even harder than the last. His hand glides down your back as you fall onto your chest with your cheek deep into the pillow; ass up and pressed against him so beautifully every time he fucks into you.

“Yes, fuck!” You let out, hand coming down to rub at your sensitive nub to push you over the edge one last time for tonight.

“Oh shit, gonna cum—” Woooyoung pants. “Where do you want me?”

“Inside.”

“So fucking hot—” He groans while sloppily working his hips until the very end. You feel him fill you up, coating your walls so deliciously it’s enough to push you to your own high. Wooyoung hisses and grunts a few times when he feels you squeeze him, feeling a bit sensitive from his own release.

“God.” You try to regulate your breathing when you come back down from cloud nine, body falling limp against the mattress with Wooyoung plopping next to you.

“Come here, pretty.” He chuckles, swooping you onto his chest with his hand coming up to stroke your hair and massage your scalp. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

“Okay. But, first. Can you stay tonight?” You look up at him and he smiles brightly.

“Why would I leave my baby’s side?” He kisses your forehead. “Let’s go. If you’re good, I’ll let you take me in the shower.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“The real after hours after party.” Wooyoung wiggles his eyebrows as he watches you climb over and start making your way to the bathroom.

“You’re so sick for that.” You laugh, squealing as he smacks your ass and follows you into the bathroom, getting his way with you once more under the steaming hot water.

💿 taglist: @asjkdk @bintificreads @interweab @svintsandghosts

#wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung x reader #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #wooyoung fanfic #jung wooyoung imagines #wooyoung imagines #jung wooyoung #wooyoung #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez fluff #wooyoung smut #wooyoung fluff #jung wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung fluff #kpop imagines #hwaslayer: after hours

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arien-rey · 9 months

Text

desires

cw: creampie, slight dumbification, slight impact play(choking), nipple play, dry humping

summary: miguel and you are lab partners and accidentally create a dangerous concoction <3

an: inspired by a certain professor cal audio🤭 iykyk also i didnt proofread so im sorry for any typos (i got a little lazy towards the end😭)

wc: 1.7k

in the heart of a bustling laboratory where the air was thick with the scent of chemicals and the sound of clinking glassware, you found yourself immersed in a groundbreaking project. Alongside your lab partner Miguel, a very meticulous scientist, you both delved in the world of scientific studies—motivated to revolutionize the world of focus and concentration, something people have been lacking in 2099.

within the laboratory walls, you felt anticipation and excitement in the air as you both pushed the boundaries of possibility, propelling the project forward with relentless determination.

As days turn to weeks, your passion for the project never faded. Countless sleepless nights, cups of coffee, and trials and errors ensued, but with every setback you came back even stronger than before and you believed you were finally reaching the finish line.

In just a few weeks, you've grown very close to your partner Miguel as well. You find yourselves sharing lunches and engaging in conversations about exciting discoveries. It doesn't hurt that he is both handsome and charming. To your surprise, you discover that he is single after discreetly asking your other lab friends. Fueled by the possibility you might have a chance, you start to dress a little differently. Gone are the days of "comfort-first" outfits; instead, you opt for shorter (riskier) skirts and cute blouses that accentuate your style. Maybe, just maybe, once this project wraps up, you'll gather the courage to take your shot.

That brings us to tonight. the quiet air filled with the soft hum of machinery and bubbling liquids. The lab was completely empty except for the two of you as usual, with dim steril white lights engulfing the room. Besides you, Miguel carefully measures the ingredients to be added into a bubbling beaker while you prepare the compounds. He looks especially attractive right now, with his hair messy and the button-up under his lab coat unbuttoned lower than usual. You both frustratedly hit a wall, and it seemed no matter what you added to your formula, you weren't getting the necessary results. You chewed on your lip, hoping for the best this time around when suddenly the silence was broken by Miguel’s sleepy baritone voice.

“What if we added a touch of this?” he suggests, his large hands reaching for a vial labeled “Enhancement Catalyst.”

Unbeknownst to the both of you, the label was partially torn and now difficult to read.

You paused for a moment, considering Miguel’s suggestion. His voice, warm and soothing, made you feel at ease even in the face of frustration. His idea seemed like it had potential, an unexplored avenue worth exploring. You studied the compound in his hand, noticing how his fingers delicately held the vial, the reflection of the lab lights dancing across its surface.

“where’d you get that?”

“It was next to some of the older blends we used for testing by the cabinets. I think we should give it a chance.”

“Maybe it could work,” you replied, a glimmer of hope in your voice. “Let’s give it a try.”

As you gingerly added a few drops of the liquid, the concoction seamlessly mixed and enveloped the air with a distinct aroma. Without warning, the mixture began to intensify, rapidly bubbling and sizzling, releasing mesmerizing sparks of vibrant colors. Both you and Miguel exchanged anxious looks, acutely aware that something had gone awry and instinctively take a few steps back.

“Be careful.” He murmurs, shielding you with his forearm as you both watch what unfolds in front of you.

anticipation filled the air once again as minutes stretch to feel like an eternity. you cock your head to the side curiously, watching the concoction turn into a glowing, luminescent liquid.

You sigh in relief.

“whew. good thing nothing bad happened!”

you mutter shyly, but as you inhale deeply, a rush of sweet fumes fills your throat. You sneeze a couple of times from the overpowering scent, only to realize that it has spread throughout the entire room.

“I'll turn on the vents.”

Miguel says, clearly inhaling the strong aroma too and walks towards the exit where a few controllers for the AC and such are.

You nod at him, suddenly taking a sharp breath as your heart begins to race. You try to shake it off as an adrenaline rush from the experiment, but instead of it going away, your cheeks heat up and you feel a strange tingling sensation in your lower stomach. you lean over your desk and blink, your mind spinning.

Your vision is hazy, and you glance to the side to see Miguel run his hand through his hair, a distressed look on his now flushed face.

“s-shit i think something went wrong. what is this?”

“I don’t know , but we need to find a way to..”

you trail off, feeling in a daze as you watch Miguel take a step towards your direction, his crimson eyes locked on you intensely. you took a shaky breath, your thighs unconsciously squeezing together. “.. reverse it.”

You turn and slam open a cabinet, ripping out your journal to find some sort of way—any way to reverse the effect of this sort of aphrodisiac, and Miguel did the same at his desk. seconds turned to minutes, and minutes turned to hours as your efforts turned fruitless. Unfortunately for you, the effects only worsen and your desire for him only electrifies more.

“fuck, fuck..”

Miguel groans, and you turn your gaze to see the tall man manspreading on his chair, his head thrown back, and brows furrowed as sweat trailed down his forehead. your gaze travels down his body and- oh. there you saw, in all its glory a huge tent in his pants, his hand resting by his thigh—twitching as he resisted with all his will-power not to touch himself. You bite your lip and squeeze your legs together, the unbearable heat in your core making you whimper quietly.

Miguel catches you looking and clenches his jaw.

“We can't.. let this consume us,” He strains through gritted teeth. “We need to quarantine .”

“Good idea. You stay here, I’ll leave the room.”

You replied breathlessly, using the last bit of your rationale. this was wrong, so so wrong… but your legs wouldn't move.

Suddenly it's quiet again, the silence only broken by both your heavy breathing. You lock eyes with Miguel, both your and his eyes half-lidded and the electric tension instantly snaps, and Miguel bolts up.

no words are said as he leans forwards and captures your lips in a hot kiss.

his large hands almost encompass you as he holds your hips, pushing you back against your desk. you moan into the kiss, tugging on his hair and he effortlessly lifts you onto the edge. after a few more seconds of passionate, sloppy kissing, you both pull away panting.

“Take this off, now.”

Miguel growls, eagerly assisting you and breathlessly helping you remove your lab coat, blouse, and skirt. With a gentle touch, you place your hand on his jaw, drawing him in for another passionate kiss. In the midst of the embrace, he skillfully slides the bra straps off your shoulders and unclasps it.

You gasp, feeling the cold lab air make contact with your sensitive skin, hardening your nipples. He reaches up and rolls the buds in between his calloused fingers and you moan, arching into his touch. Your body seems even more sensitive because of the aphrodisiac and his touches leave fire in its wake.

You gasp as he pulls you closer to him, rubbing his huge erection against your clothed core, the wetness seeping through the fabric and the sloppy sounds of your slick against him making you both moan.

“Miguel, please!”

you whine, leaning back and throwing your head back as you desperately trying to meet his grinds ,his hands holding your hips with bruising strength.

“I know, I know.. Don't worry baby, let me take care of you.”

He sighs, and finally after what felt like centuries he unbuckles his belt with one hand, the clicking sound of metal and leather making you shudder. He hastily shrugs his lab coat off, rolls his sleeves up, and unbuttons his pants and pulls it down along with his boxers, just enough to let his whole cock spring out .

You bite your lip at his impressive length, the tip an angry red with prominent veins running under the shaft.

“I’m sorry—I can’t stop.”

He stammers, right before he tears your panties off and plunges the tip inside you with no warning. You arch your back, digging your nails into his wrist as he plunges his cock inside you without giving you much time to adjust to the huge girth. You throw your head back and close your eyes, trying to breathe through the intense stretch. Thankfully you were so wet it slid in with relative ease.

“youre so fucking tight.. shit.”

he hisses, bottoming out completely before sliding it out almost all the way and slamming it back in. You moan, his praise making your stomach flutter. He pulls your legs over his shoulders and you gasp at how deep he is and full you feel in a mating press.

“shitt, miguel.. it hurtss” you slur, already cockdrunk as he begins to move in and out at a brutal pace, his thrusts heavy and mean. tears welled in your eyes and as they fall he uses a thumb to wipe them away.

“I know, I know.. its ok baby.. you’re taking my cock so fucking well..”

He groans, trailing his hands down to play with your clit. He spits a thick wad of spit where you both connect and rubs his fingertips against the sensitive bud in rapid, sloppy circles, making you sob. the pain from before melted into hot blissful pleasure in seconds, your mouth hanging open in an ‘o’ shape.

“yeahh mhm.. you like that? huh?”

he chuckles dryly, feeling how you clenched around him, desperately sucking him in. He moves his other hand to wrap it around your throat, squeezing his palm around your small neck.

“M-Miggy, ‘m gonna cum!”

you sob, your mind and vision going foggy from a mix of the aphrodisiac, the overstimulating pleasure, as well as the slight asphyxiation. Miguel leans forward, his lips almost touching your ear as he whispers:

“You don't know how long I've wanted this. I see you wearing your short little pencil skirts to work and how you wanna get my attention… and it takes everything in me to not pounce on you.”

he confesses, his hot breath fanning your ear, sending chills up your spine.

“Miguel…”

“Now cum on my cock, baby. show me how good I make you feel.”

he growls, speeding up his thrusting and the pace of his fingers on your clit until it all becomes too much and you let out a silent scream, too overwhelmed to make any noise. your nails dig into his wrist leaving crest indents on his skin as your white hot orgasm crashes over you intensely. Miguel groans and curses, trying to hold you down as you squirm and buck under his overstimulation touches, his thick fingers never slowing down on your sopping clit. After a few more heavy pounds Miguel follows; his cum gushing beautifully out of the sides of your pussy and dripping down his cock.

He doesn't stop for a minute, flipping you over and tugging on your hair, forcing you into an arch.

“Don’t think we’re done yet.”

the aphrodisiac’s effect is not gonna go away any time soon..

#miguel x you #miguel smut #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel x reader #miguel x oc #miguel ohara x oc #miguel x y/n #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara smut #miguel o’hara #atsv x reader #rey💋#2099<3

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lime1991 · 4 months

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those mlp infection aus on tiktok have been alright but heres my idea to consider:

the main characters of the au are the cmc. theyre not the lone survivors, and heres why: the infection almost entirely affects adults. this is just like a book i read in 5th grade, thats where im stealing this from.

Applebloom is the self appointed leader, shes best at foraging for food and growing it as well as building re-enforcements for the shelter (which is the clubhouse. it's higher up so they dont have to worry about most infected ponies reaching them.)

Scootaloo is the defender of the base as well as the group in general. shes the one who handles the weapons and is first to sacrifice herself for her friends to get to safety. She says its because he doesnt want to hold them back due to her disability, they tell her she doesnt have to think like that. but its hard not to.

Sweetie Belle is... not all there. sometimes she forgets the apocalypse has happened and that most of her loved ones are dead. Scootaloo and Applebloom take turns sleeping during the night to make sure someone is always lookout. that, and they can't risk Sweetie Belle unknowingly walking into the dark trying to get home.

Partially inspired by one of the best animes ive ever seen: School Live, Scootaloo and Applebloom sometimes, when Sweetie is having an episode, pretend everything is normal. Is the most they can do for their friend, who is clearly so traumatized that her brain blocks out the reality of their situation. Sometimes, Applebloom wishes that could happen to her.

When the infection started, it slowly took over the elderly first. Granny Smith got sick, fast. Big Mac and Applejack took care of her, but only a few days later she would turn into some kid of monstrous creature. Big Mac did the unspeakable act of putting her out of her misery.

Sweetie Bell was sent to go live with Rarity while her mother was sick. Her father began to feel ill too, and didn't want her to get herself and her friends at school sick as well. She could hear over the phone the conversations her sister and father had. How mom was getting worse, how dad was getting worse. How they stopped calling altogether.

A couple days into the widespread sickness, Scootaloo's aunts took a trip to the store to stock up on groceries just incase a quarantine was issued. They were gone for hours. They were gone for days. They never came back. Eventually, Scootaloo traveled outside of her home by herself, and could never return.

Once Big Mac and Applejack started showing signs of illness, Applejack spoke to cousins in other places wondering if they would be able to let Applebloom stay with them a while. But just like everyone in Ponyville, they were experiencing the same issue. At one point, Fluttershy agreed to watch Applebloom until AJ and Big Mac started to feel better.

After hearing that Fluttershy graciously took in Applebloom, Rarity sent Sweetie Belle off to her the moment she started to cough. She didn't want Sweetie to see her like that. She didn't want her to get sick either, and in fact, she probably transported it from their parents house and into Rarity's. That made Rarity angry. Her last words to Sweetie were about how upset she was that she'd brought the illness to her.

Scootaloo went to Fluttershy herself. She couldn't find Rainbow Dash, so she settled for the next best pony. She was shocked to see her friends had been there themselves the past few days. Scootaloo only managed to stay a few hours, because during the night the crusaders awoke to a crash in another room. Upon investigation they saw Fluttershy hunched over a broken glass. There was blood on the floor.

They went to comfort her, but she wasn't herself any longer. When she turned to face them it already looked like she'd been ravened by the infection. She was so hungry. Why couldn't the jar just open? She was so... hungry. Before she could even stand back up, the crusaders grabbed their things and fled to the only place they knew they'd be safe. The clubhouse.

#my little pony #mlp #mlpfim #mlp infection au #applebloom #scootaloo #sweetie belle #cutie mark crusaders #infection au #apocalypse au #ive made myself giddy thinking about this. i need to draw up some concept designs.

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hellishjoel · 8 months

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seven days, six nights

5.6k / pairing: joel miller x f!reader

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summary: You get jumped in the QZ after a deal gone south and hide yourself from Joel to keep him safe. After eventually finding you and learning the truth behind your injuries, he heals you and promises revenge.

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), post-outbreak Joel, living in the Boston QZ, somewhat established relationship, mentions of falling ill, mentions of hunger/starvation, mentions of weapons, mentions of sleeplessness, descriptions of a fight/brief assault, descriptions of bodily injury, talking about medical shit (and I ain't no doctor, I used google, don't sue me) thoughts and descriptions of murder (… isn’t he just so dreamy?), angst, light fluff at the end, half-ass edited (apologies in advance)

A/N: So happy to practice some post-outbreak writing! Enjoy this angsty one shot (inspired by this lovely ask!) that I fuckin loved writing. Dedicating this to @macfrog, as I pictured this entire plot with pixel Joel.

“Joel, I’m so sorry, I lost you the battery-” “Someone stole it from you.” He corrects, shaking his head as a sinking feeling washes over you. Your eyelashes flutter as you feel a droplet of water land on your nose. You glance up at the sky, seeing the clear summer day has turned into dark clouds overhead threatening to flood the city in rain. Joel doesn’t look up, he stays watching you. You can’t seem to meet his eye contact. “But the battery-” “Don’t care about the battery right now, care about you.”

Joel doesn’t know where you’ve been. You haven’t returned to his apartment in the QZ for days. He keeps track. Every time the sun rises and shines blistering beams of light into the quiet apartment until the moon replaces it and casts light silver streaks between the torn-up pieces of newspaper taped to the windows. Another day gone.

You had a routine. Make the smaller drops or pickups on your own, return to Joel, and report back to him with anything you think he might find useful or interesting. Five days ago, he sent you off to negotiate a truck battery with that West End District piece of shit, Robert. He shouldn’t have let you go alone. Fucking smugglers, you couldn’t trust any of them. Hell, Joel was even surprised you trusted him at first. He regretted not insisting on being by your side, even if it was just as your personal attack dog to keep Robert on his toes.

Despite Boston being one of the more “well-managed” QZs to still exist, the black market that emerged from it was just as strong. That’s where Joel came in. He figured if he could smuggle himself into one of the most protected quarantine zones in the country, he could smuggle just about anything else.

Drugs, weapons, ammunition, illegally forged paperwork, counterfeit ration cards, you name it, and Joel could work it in or out of the city. Joel’s reputation was usually enough to keep you both out of imminent danger as he became popular with not only the inhabitants of the QZ, but also with fellow smugglers. You all needed each other to stay alive, in one way or another.

Don’t be mistaken; the Boston QZ wasn’t perfect. It went through its fair share of scares. Food sources dwindled occasionally, leaving people angry, starving, and rebellious. Fireflies were a constant nag on depleting military resources. The fighting never truly stopped. This partially made Joel’s life easier. When times got tough, people searched for Joel to procure particular goods to help keep them afloat or, more importantly, alive.

That’s the problem Joel ran into after spending a night in FEDRA lock up. He was the one in need of supplies.

Joel was sick. Not infected sick, not cordyceps sick, some kind of infection he got from poor sanitation in the lock-up that attacked its way through an open wound Joel had gotten. He didn’t know if it was from work duty or from the recent street attacks, hence his stay in the FEDRA lockup. No matter where he got it from, an infection in the bloodstream wasn’t easily curable.

The doctors, what very few the QZ had, were scarcely treating the sick due to a lack of supplies. And Joel was only getting worse.

He was fighting a high fever, his breathing was fucked, as was his heart rate. Only a few days into his symptoms, he was crashing. He was damn near on the devil’s doorstep. He wasn’t made for heaven’s gates.

Joel didn’t have friends in the QZ, but there were certain high-powered people who needed items smuggled, too. And the guards paid him well to keep his mouth shut about what he saw going in and out of those gates after curfew. That’s why when one of his more popular clients heard Joel was an inch from death, they sent you.

You burst through his apartment, the door nearly flying off its hinges as you fled to his bedside. He pushed you away with what little strength he had at first, the infection was making him lose his damn mind. His skin was scarlet red, and he was clammy with sweat. He didn’t know you, you didn’t know him. But you weren’t going to let him die.

“Joel, I’m here to help you, hold still.”

Then you started your search, tearing Joel’s clothes off one by one until you found the sizeable cut on his upper bicep near his shoulder, a huge scrape from a metal blade that had gotten infected. The man had tons of scars, all in varying sizes, shapes, and places on his body. You didn’t know his past, but his body told his story. He was a fighter.

Your fear was how far into sepsis Joel was. Any further or even just a few hours later, you might have witnessed his organs begin shutting down.

Despite his hazy state, Joel was struck by your amount of supplies. You weren’t a Boston QZ doctor, he would remember a face like yours. It took a smuggler to know a smuggler, and you dealt in medical supplies.

Joel passed out not long after you got there. You caught him up in the morning, you never left his side. You monitored him, kept checking his vitals, pumped him with water, shoved antibiotics down his throat, cleaned his wound before it could fester anymore, and tried to regulate his body temperature. This could have been a lot worse. It should have been a lot worse.

This was your first time experiencing Joel Miller’s tenacious stubbornness. He wouldn’t fucking die, not last night, and not today.

A few weeks later, with Joel improving, he picked up on you around town. The way you blended in with just about everyone else. Not much slipped past Joel these days with his eyes like that of an eagle. But you slipped right through his fingers, didn’t even know you existed, despite running the same territory.

That’s when he decided he wanted someone like you on his team. Not just for your medical skills, but the type of supplies you ran was in high demand. You never did tell him where you got it, or how it was funded, all he had to know was that you were in. And you have been in ever since.

Joel introduced you to heavier smuggling, like weapons and bundles of cash. Even people for the right price. He taught you how to make fake documents of verification and how to forge other paperwork. This was a lot bigger compared to your clean syringes and medicine.

You learned a lot from each other. You taught Joel patience, and to thank you for saving his life, he taught you how to orgasm in less than five minutes.

The relationship you shared, if you could even call it that, wasn’t strictly a romantic one. Both of you were too guarded for something like that. But also, life was too short and unpredictable right now not to crave pleasure to erase the pain from the past.

It was hard to admit, considering how independent you’ve grown since being accepted into the Boston QZ, but you were thinking about Joel in ways far beyond a slightly romantic relationship. He had protected you and cared for you in the Joel sort of way that’s hard to read but you know exists.

Joel worked extra hours to hand you off extra ration cards, shaking his head and not looking at you when he said it was no big deal, just take’em. Or when he didn’t want you to stay in spare housing, he offered to let you live with him in his nicer, non-shared apartment. It was a small slice of heaven in this fucked up world. You liked him, hell, maybe it was more than like.

That’s why when you got jumped by Robert’s guys on the way back to Joel’s with the truck battery, they damn near killed you. They left you passed out in the alley. Robbed you of your ration cards, stole back the battery, smashed your head so hard into the brick wall you had passed out. All you wanted to do when you came to was crawl to Joel. So you did. You were outside his door, beaten and bruised, about to knock. Then you just stood there and spiraled.

You listened from the other side of Joel’s door to the floorboards creaking as he paced the old wooden beams. You were late and left him worried. He was waiting for you to come home.

The thought made your stomach twist. You looked like shit. You knew what Joel was capable of. One look at your bruised and bloodied face would send him flying down the street with a rifle in his hands and a pistol shoved in the back of his jeans. You couldn’t bear the thought of him getting hurt in a war with Robert.

Joel was smart, a hell of a lot smarter than Robert, but their smuggling operations varied greatly. Robert was an arms dealer, with henchmen all around the QZ. Joel only worked with a handful of people, he kept his circle small. If Joel went after Robert, you were more likely to find him dead in the street than anything else. And you couldn’t do that to Joel, not after all he’s done for you.

If Joel saw you hurt, he would kill Robert. He’d kill anyone that laid a finger on you. No one touches what’s Joel’s. Not merchandise, not weapons, not the pills he smuggles in and out of the QZ, and certainly not you.

So you tiptoe back down the stairs and run to the spare housing blocks just before the curfew alarm sounds. What Joel doesn’t know won’t get him killed.

---

Joel stands in line during the heat of summer, ration cards stuffed in his back pocket as he waits with others in the queue for a tray and some food. The dining hall was packed, and by the looks of other people’s trays, the food was low again. All he can think about is how he worked extra shifts all last week to get more ration cards for both of you. Without these cards, you were going hungry. You were supposed to be by his side, where were you?

By day six, Joel was restless. He didn’t realize how accustomed he had grown to having you in bed beside him. All he could picture during his sleepless nights was his body spooned in behind yours, the heavy weight of his arm curled around your waist, being able to sense even the tiniest of movements. You’d push off his arm in the middle of the night, telling him that you just needed to use the bathroom or get some water.

It wasn’t always like that, though. Sometimes, you have nightmares. Ones that left you shooting up straight in the middle of the night, gasping for breath, crawling backward in bed like something or someone was chasing you. Joel didn’t know everything about your past and vice versa, but he knew wherever you came from before Boston was a different form of hell. He would hold you in his arms, console you, wipe your hot tears, lay your head on the warmth of his chest, and tell you to level out your breathing by listening to the beat of his heart. He held you in his arms until you eventually fell back asleep. Most of the time, you’d wake up and wouldn’t remember a thing.

What if nothing was wrong with you, and you just realized you didn’t want to be with someone as broken and battered as Joel? He didn’t make being in his company easy. He gave you a lot of shit, pushed you to the limits, told you on more than a handful of occasions he just wanted to be left alone. You’d ask about his daughter, the one he sparsely spoke about, and he’d bark at you until you regretted even thinking about her. He didn’t make things easy on you, but Joel did care about you. Even if he was shit at showing it.

He pushed you away, maybe you took the hint and left him.

On day seven, he started asking around about you, something he saved as a last resort. The less you two were seen together, the better. You had him worried sick, and he was damn near ready to raid Robert’s warehouse to see if he had taken you, made you his girl against your will.

That was until he caught a glimpse of you going past the market. It didn’t take much, he recognized your figure and trailed you with his eyes. You were walking towards spare housing, with a heavy backpack and a sweatshirt on. Your arms were wrapped securely around you, and your head was down.

He navigated through the crowds, jaw tight, putting down heavy steps on the broken gravel road as he pushed people out of his way with a guided hand on their shoulder. He followed you out of the crowd and down the street lined with stone barricades and rubble from a recent building that was raided by patrol on the hunt for Fireflies. You turned sharply down an alleyway, and Joel followed you, needing to see if you were okay, looking for answers.

As soon as Joel took the alley, he was attacked and harshly shoved backward, his shoulder blades smacking the red brick wall behind him. A small switchblade was then shoved against the protruding vein in his neck, heated puffs of breath leaving him. He initially panicked in the moment, his hand tightening around the wrist that held him there.

“Why the hell are you following me?” You bark at him, head still lowered. Joel’s eyes narrow at the sound of your voice.

He speaks your name.

Your strength relaxes, and you lift your head up to see you had pinned Joel. Shit, you thought one of Robert’s men was following you from town. You let out an exhausted breath of relief.

“You’re really holdin’ me up with the knife I gave you?” Joel asks. He smacks the back of your hand, reflexes making your fist open up and lose the grip on your switchblade. Joel snags it with his free hand and glares at you. He takes the opportunity to shove your forearm off his chest, the one that was pinning him against the wall, and sending you a few paces back from the force he exerts. He hesitates but folds the blade back into the handle, and offers it back to you.

You let out a sigh of relief to see that it was just Joel. But this was still a problem.

You retrieve the switchblade you accidentally surrendered to him and stuff it into your sweatshirt pocket. You cross your arms and look away to the entrance of the alley. “What the hell are you doing following me, Joel?”

He lets out a scoff through his nose and shoots daggers out of his eyes that you won’t meet. “What the hell am I doin’? Where the hell have you been?” He tries not to bark so loud. You won’t stop staring at the entrance of the alley, and Joel’s not sure if you’re thinking about running or thinking about being ambushed.

He grabs your arm and drags you further into the alley, sunset on the horizon. He brings you to the back of an old school that was ready to collapse. He pushes you back against the wall and stands close, too close.

“Answer me, what the hell happened to you?” His voice shoots goosebumps across your skin, low and growling for answers.

The grip he has on your arm tightens and washes a flood of heat over your injured arm. Your mouth hisses with hurt, trying to breathe through the pain. You shake him off of you and clutch your arm lightly. “‘M fine, Joel, I can manage.”

You’re speaking with a break in your voice that Joel can’t quite place. The hood you’re wearing is working overtime to shield your face.

He pauses before he slowly looks over you. “Why are you wearin’ a sweatshirt in the middle of summer?”

The silence he’s met with only leaves him more curious. What are you hiding? He swiftly pushes the hood off your head before you can stop him, and he’s not prepared for what he sees.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his large hands delicately coming up and caressing your cheeks.

You sigh and roll your eyes. The skin around your right eye is blueish-purple. You lightly twinged at the contact, no matter how delicate he was being. “It’s not as bad as it seems, it doesn’t hurt-”

“Like hell it doesn’t,” Joel mutters, lightly taking your chin between his thumb and index finger as he angles your face from left to right, allowing him to get a full look at the damage done to you. You glance down at his broken watch for comfort, the band fraying and the glass shattered, but he still wore it.

You can’t exactly explain why your lower lip starts to wobble. It was so hard to stay away from Joel, to distance yourself, but it was all for keeping him safe. Your small fists lightly clutch the button-up shirt he’s wearing around his abdomen, finally feeling a slight sense of security.

“Joel, I’m so sorry, I lost you the battery.”

“Someone stole it from you.” He corrects, shaking his head as a sinking feeling washes over you. Your eyelashes flutter as you feel a droplet of water land on your nose. You glance up at the sky, seeing the clear summer day has turned into dark clouds overhead threatening to flood the city in rain. Joel doesn’t look up, he stays watching you.

You can’t seem to meet his eye contact. “But the battery-”

“Don’t care about the battery right now, care about you.” His thumb gently examines the cut on your lip. You curl it inwards to stray from his touch. “Robert do this to you? His guys?” Joel’s asking accusingly, and you know better than to lie to him. You swallow the growing lump in your throat and gently nod, blinking back tears.

His face grows taut with anger, his brows furrowing and the creases in his forehead are set in stone. His jaw is clamped shut while he grits his teeth. Joel’s probably thinking of a million scenarios of how to put Robert down. Which way would last the longest, string out the torture, make him apologize to you, and beg for his life. Make him apologize to Joel for ever touching a hand on what was his.

“Joel, you need to take a breath. Focus.” The last thing you wanted was for Joel to go on a rampage tonight in search of Robert. “I’m fine, this shit happens. We’ll get back on track and-”

“Can’t believe they let you live.” He murmurs, taking a look at the damage that he can visibly see before lightly sighing and releasing your face. You’re quick to pull the hood back up and cross your arms in front of you as some sort of shield.

His eyes are sunken in, his chest is lightly heaving as he tries to sort through his muddled thoughts. The rain is starting to scatter more, hitting your muddy sneakers and Joel’s dark denim shirt. The setting sun meant curfew was just around the corner.

“Come on. We’re goin’ home. Need to take a look at you in the light." You hesitate but his eyes are pleading for you to just let him take care of you. So you let him.

---

You travel up the same staircase you did just a week ago, limping and injured, broken and feeling guilty. Joel needed that battery for the truck. He was going to leave Boston and go to find his brother, Tommy. Neither of you had discussed if you would come with. For Joel, you think you might do just about anything for him if he asked.

He stabs his key into the lock of his door. You hear a crying baby in a neighboring apartment, it was probably startled awake by the blaring of the curfew alarm. Lightning and thunder crack outside as Joel pushes open the door. You follow him inside and set down your backpack by the door like you usually do. Another strike of lightning makes his apartment flood itself with white-silver streaks of light, if only for a moment. Joel flips the lock back into place and hits the switch to the one overhead light in between the kitchen and the living room. You’re sweating up a storm in your sweatshirt.

Though living in Boston’s QZ wasn’t great, you had to admit that not every quarantine zone had clean water and electricity. Joel had an old standing oscillating fan that was stationed at the foot of his bed during the summers since he ran so warm all the time. He said he traded about four or five meals worth of ration cards to get it, said that it was considered a steal. You shed the heavy material of your sweatshirt and sit tiredly down at the end of his bed, closing your eyes as the fan wicks away your sweat and cools your face.

Living in spare housing the past week was hell. You barely slept. The homeless, sick, and injured all found their way to spare housing. You weren’t safe there. And you didn’t have any ration cards to your name. You had to trade one singular, perfectly clean syringe to afford four rolls of bread. It was all you could get at the time being. Everyone was fighting for work, knowing ration cards and food were low. Since you were still somewhat new to the QZ, you weren’t given privileges. You laid on a nasty, old cot for a week. Joel’s small apartment was heaven. The solitude was peaceful.

Joel was standing at the sink, water running over a cloth as he stared down at the water circling the drain. He needed to take a breath, set his anger aside, and get you to talk.

Joel wrings out the rag, loose droplets of water splattering in the sink before he sits down at his small wooden kitchen table. “C’mere.” He whispers, taking your attention away from the fan. You slowly stand up and make your way to the table under the central light in his living room, sighing softly as you slowly sink into the accompanying chair. Now in the light, he observes your injuries closer.

Without your sweatshirt on, he can see bruises and scrapes along your arms, residual blood on your knuckles and under your nails. His little fighter. He notes that your tanktop is a bit shredded, and he fears the worst.

You catch him staring and intervene. “Don’t worry. I didn’t let them get close enough to touch me like that.” You glance down at the sweaty tank top and lightly tug on the hole. “Just got this while I was running away, trying to hop a fence.”

Joel frowns and slowly works his eyes over you. “‘S not like you to get caught. You’re pretty damn fast.”

You held down a bubble of laughter as your fingers played with the fraying material of your top. “Yeah, well, they already got one or two good hits on me, so I was a little hazy.” Your words don’t settle him. They infuriate him.

He brings his attention to your face. Your eye must have been swollen at one point, but it wasn’t anymore. The puffiness had gone down, and the bruises were in their final stages of healing. You have another more prominent bruise on your cheekbone, black and blue, but it’s not broken. That’s good. The cut on your eyebrow and the matching one on your lip catches his attention. A man with a ring.

“Red hair? Crooked nose, missing a front tooth?”

You blink a few times rapidly, curious as to how the hell Joel knew the characteristics of one of your attackers.

“How did you…” You start to say until your words trail off, shaking your head in confusion.

Joel sneers lightly and brings the wet rag up to gently dab at the cut on your lip. “Not a lot of men are stupid enough to wear a ring that basically signs their name on whoever’s face they’re knocking in.” How he describes your fight makes you flinch and shift uncomfortably in your chair, evading his eye contact. “Sorry.” He mutters quietly. “His name is Chase, Jase, somethin’ stupid like that. One of Robert’s guys.” Joel’s words lightly flitter off as he shifts his attention to your lip once more.

It was still swollen and angry. You probably tried to eat with it still agitated and delayed its healing. But you know this already. You ate because you didn’t have a choice. It was that, or starve. He hated knowing you were roaming the streets in a horrible hunger, especially when he had ration cards waiting for you at home.

Your eyes twitch closed as Joel’s wet rag rinses the blood out of the cut on your lip, the old excess blood lightly trickling into your mouth. Your tastebuds catch the tang of metallic and salt. You did what you could with the medical supplies you had, but you didn’t want to waste on yourself what you could potentially sell. If you were avoiding Joel for a while, you needed to be able to make trades of your own. You did use some supplies to clean the cut on your head. You were lucky the wall you were thrown into didn’t leave you with a concussion.

Joel is still wrestling with why the hell you didn’t come home, why he had to go out and find you. Why, why, why? Why did he let you go alone? Why did the deal go south? A terrible feeling soured his stomach. Robert’s men were ruthless, they must have felt kind enough to let you live. Or it was a message to Joel from Robert. You’re next.

Joel wasn’t scared of Robert, but for them to be scared of a young woman was a mystery for the masses.

He tosses the rag down on the table and stands up. “I’ll fuckin’ kill ‘em.” He grunts up, his lips snarling and his nostrils flaring in heated fury.

He storms to the kitchen and impatiently fills up a glass of water. Joel was fantasizing about plunging his thumbs into Robert’s eye sockets and squeezing until his head turned into mush. Or maybe Joel could take him to the Eastern district, throw him in the Massachusetts Bay, and hold him underwater, only bringing him up from the brink of drowning before pushing him down again. And again. And again.

Your sweet voice breaks Joel’s murderous thoughts. “Joel, I owe you the battery, and I promise I’ll find another one. Just give me a little time and-”

Joel slams the glass of water on the counter, the clatter of it echoing around the room. “Don’t care about the damn battery!” His back is to you, broad and strong shoulders heaving lightly as his head hangs low. His hands are gripping the edge of the counter. “Thought they fuckin’ kidnapped you! Or worse!”

You shift uncomfortably in your chair, your lower lip wobbling once more as he slowly starts shaking his head.

“I almost lost you, and it’s my fault.”

Your eyes soften at his words. He’s felt this way before, and he’s been haunted by the mistake ever since. His daughter, you think.

His low, southern drawl makes you focus on him once more. “Tell me why you hid. Why didn’t you come to me? We could have figured things out, for fuck’s sake!” He shouts as he turns to face you, his body falling back into the counter as he crosses his arms.

Your chest swells with heavy emotion. You stand up so fast from your chair that its sent scraping backward. “I did come here! I did! I heard you inside and I..” you pause and shake your head, still finding your voice.

“I was scared you’d be upset with me letting someone steal the battery, I was afraid you’d go after Robert and get yourself fucking-- killed, Joel! I don’t want you to die, okay? I need you!”

“And I need you!” He shouts back, lips parted with heavy breaths, both of you trying to settle with the newly shared revelation.

You both stare at each other from across the room, watching as Joel’s jaw slowly begins to click loose. He shoves himself up off the counter and closes the distance between you two. You hesitantly take a step back, and he pauses his footsteps. His eyes soften, and he looks as broken as you do.

“Please,” he pleads, gently shaking his head. “Would never hurt you, baby.” He puts his hand out, a gesture of kindness and warmth that you’d missed all week, yet you still hesitate. You almost wait too long, he’s already reeling his hand back into his side.

“Joel,” you whisper with soft relief. You eagerly take a few steps forward, ignoring his hand, and gently settle your head on his chest as you tightly squeeze your arms around his lower back. You close your eyes and melt into him, finding solace in Joel’s embrace.

Joel’s arms stay hovering in the air for a moment, lips parted as he looks down at the top of your head. He shames himself for even hesitating. He puts one hand on the side of your head and holds you to his chest, while the other settles low on your back. He breaths peacefully for the first time in a week.

You stay like that for who knows how long. He’s warm, and you feel protected. You sink into his arms, he takes on your weight. He walks you backward to the foot of his bed once more, letting you delicately fall back into the mattress. You watch with tired eyes as he unties the laces of your sneakers, one after the other. He shucks down your jeans, making you giggle.

“Joel, you don’t wanna fuck me right now, I smell like spare housing.”

The right side of his mouth twitches up as he shakes his head at you. “I know you do. ‘M takin’ you to shower.”

You sit up on your elbows as you smile a bit bashfully at him. “Good. Because I’m too sore to fool around anyway.” You whisper with a teasing smile as you grab the bottom of your tank top, peeling it up and off of your sticky skin. Joel tries not to stare. You’re not sure if he’s clocking your naked figure or the bruising around your ribs and legs.

You’d need some time to heal. Joel knows you do. While you shower, he makes you as big of a feast he can muster up with the canned goods he has in his cupboards. You try to eat the first real meal you’ve had in a week slowly, to savor the taste, but you end up shoveling your spoon into the bowl and scraping it clean.

Joel’s eyes are on you the whole time, watching you, observing you. He won’t let you out of his sight for a while, but maybe that’s what’s good for you. You meet his gaze and he speaks a silent vow. We’ll find Robert, steal the battery back, then kill him and anyone else who laid a finger on you. He nods. You nod too.

Joel’s not sure how late it is by the time you two fall into bed together. He doesn’t know how to tell you how much you mean to him, but he says it in the way he holds you. Back in his arms, he’s more alert of how sore you are from your fight. He gently cups your face, watching your eyes slowly flutter closed with long blinks. You must be so tired. And he doesn’t want to keep you awake. He’s afraid to look away, like if he lets you out of his sight, you’ll disappear again.

He speaks your name and gently stirs you awake. “Hm?” You softly murmur, bringing your hand up and gently feeling over the planes of Joel’s chest, fingers lightly grazing his chest hair.

He looks down at you for a moment, choosing his next words carefully. “Don’t run away like that again.” His words are stern before he pauses again, lightly pushing some hair behind your ear and touching you like a delicate flower. You watch him attentively. He cups your jawline and angles you to look up at him. “We’re takin’ that battery back, and we’re gettin’ the hell out of here. You hear me?”

Your heart swells at his words. We. You slowly nod in agreement. You feel Joel’s gentle kisses on your forehead and the tip of your nose. You lean up to capture his lips, but he falters by an inch. A confused expression crosses your face.

“You’re hurt.” He mutters, referring to the cut on your lip. Don’t wanna hurt ya, sweet girl.

You roll your eyes and take his face in your small hands. “Don’t care.” You whisper before you pull him in, and the two of you share a featherlight kiss. You let it last, both of you soaking it in after a week apart. A week too long.

Joel’s the first to pull away, giving you a playful little glare. The bruising on your face reminds him of the boxing movies he grew up watching. “Easy, Rocky.”

You look at him confused and cock your head. “Who?”

He rolls his eyes at you and sighs, gently running his hand down your side. “Go to sleep. I’ll teach you about Rocky one through five tomorrow. D’you at least get a few good hits on Robert or his guys?”

You hum quietly and let your eyes dip closed. “Mhm.”

“Like I taught ya?”

“Just like you taught me. Gave ‘em the ole left, right, goodnight." You bring up your fists to demonstrate. "Made Robert’s nose bleed, think I broke it.”

Your head falls into Joel’s chest, feeling it rumble with laughter and a sense of pride. “That’s my girl.”

His body shields you from the outside world. You sleep like a rock for the rest of the night. You live another day, and so does Joel. But with Joel’s promise, you know Robert’s days are numbered. You’ll be sure of it.

---

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literaila · 9 months

Note

verity what would you think about writing another peter x reader in which peter becomes a photographer and has to take pictures of reader and he develops a thing for her and he thinks that reader just flirts with him for fun and he's totally okay with that because he's a fool for her but after teasing peter and messing with him for a good amount of time she asks him out ? maybe inspired by "suck it and see" by arctic monkeys? thank you !!

chemistry

tasm!peter x fem!reader

a/n: the science jokes are real with this one

peter needed to get over himself. that much was clear.

honestly, he had the ability to rip out his eyes and throw them down the garbage disposal, and it was becoming increasingly obvious that he might have to. just to get some sanity back.

it wasn’t really his fault he was staring at you. no, it wasn’t his fault at all.

he was getting paid to stare at you. you had hired him to do this. to take pictures of you when you looked like this—partially glowing from the light, wearing a devious smile like you might be trying to crack his lens—and not get called a pervert for it.

his movements were automatic now. he’d done this enough—admired strangers and tried to pull the best out of them—but it was never quite like this. with every click of a button, and the perfectly adjusted flash, peter felt himself getting a bit hazy.

it would be his luck to faint while taking pictures of a pretty girl.

a pretty girl who’s head was tilted at him, eyes questioning, because she’d just said something and he was too busy scolding himself to notice

get yourself together.

“hmm?” peter asked, moving a step closer to you. “sorry i missed it.”

you smile like he’s said something funny. “should i try something else?” you say, “i’m not used to posing.”

“you’re doing great. you’re a natural.”

maybe a little too great. you blink at him, eyes darting away and sigh. even then, if peter took a photo, he’s sure it would come out perfectly. he probably wouldn’t need to edit any of these, even.

but he also probably would. just to stare at you some more.

“well, you’re the expert.”

but peter frowns. “are you feeling uncomfortable?”

“just—“ you shake your head. “will you tell me a joke, or something? i feel… awkward. i have no idea what i’m doing.”

“tell you a joke?” peter repeats, slightly amused.

“or just talk to me. anything.”

“sure,” he says, easily, nodding his head a bit too much. maybe it’s because you sort of whispered it, and peter sort of felt it on every single on of his nerve endings. “i, um,” he raises his brows. “i think i just forgot every joke i’ve ever heard.”

you laugh with your head tilted back and he snaps a shot. “just tell me about you, then.”

“me?”

“yes, peter parker, the photographer… and? part time comedian? full time alcoholic? father of six?”

peter frowns. “how old do you think i am?“

“old enough to be a professional photographer.”

“i don’t know if i would call myself a professional…” he winces, smiling a bit and feeling embarrassed for himself. flushed and completely ashamed because he’s usually better at this.

he can calm a clients nerves in five minutes. he can make people laugh and get the candid shot that he knows they’re looking for. he can turn an awkward social interaction into getting drinks after a shoot.

but there’s something about you and your smile, and the easy way you talk, like the words just fall out of your mouth and into place.

“i saw your prints,” you correct, shaking your head at him, “why do you think i hired you?”

“free eye candy?”

and then you actually laugh, chest releasing, and peter watches as your eyes squint at him like you’ve finally realized who you’re talking to.

it’s second nature when he presses the button.

“oh, yeah. i just googled ‘hottest male photographer in queens’ and yours was the first that came up.”

“i knew that ad would pay off eventually.”

“really, though. i’ve only got you for another twenty minutes so you’ve gotta tell me something good.”

peter frowns and moves to your left, changing the zoom on his camera and dimming the light. “i didn’t know you were paying for a gossip session.”

“okay, so you don’t like to talk about yourself. what else?”

he catches you as you adjust your hair, the light shining on the side of your face, gleaming off of you like something out of a sci-fi film.

peter shakes his head—his head is feeling a bit off. “um… i want to get a cat.”

you smile, completely darling and enough to knock a breath out of his chest. “i’ll add caring to the list. why haven’t you?”

“well, my apartment doesn’t really allow it…” he pauses for a moment playing with some settings. the two of you are dancing in circles, like a pendulum, when you move, he moves. “and also i’m not sure that i’d remember to feed it.”

“most animals make sure you remember. when i was a kid my dog would jump on whoever was closest when it was time for dinner.”

peter almost winces, and then catches himself. “i also think i’d poison it with my energy. it’d forget how to move its tail.”

“well, i’ve been around you for almost an hour and a half now and i can safely say that i still have control over all of my limbs.”

“good to know…” peter mutters while frowning at his screen. there’s nothing wrong with his camera, or with you, just with his hands. and his heart.

“everything okay?”

he shakes his head, then nods, clearing his throat. “yeah—yeah. i’m just messing with the settings.”

“are you getting anything good? useable?”

“they’re all good,” he says—to himself and out loud like a complete idiot. and then he looks up, awkwardly laughing. “like i said, you’re a natural.”

“even if you’re lying,” you tease, undeterred by his awkwardness, “i’m sure you’ll fix it all before i see.”

“i’m not lying, but yeah.”

when you smile, he smiles back.

“okay,” you say, moving. “what else? got any friends or family? any plans after this?”

“which question am i supposed to answer?”

“all of them, peter.”

he chuckles. “it’s mostly just me and my aunt. and a couple of long lost cousins. as for friends, i’ve kept in touch with some people from college. oh, and me and the john down the street who makes me a sandwich everyday are close.”

you lift your head, revealing the skin of your neck and jaw to peter. and a fetish he didn’t know he had. “and after this?”

“i’ll probably just go home and edit these, actually.”

“it’s friday.”

he shrugs. squinting at you before the next shot. he’s not even really looking.

“nothing fun?” you ask him. “surely you’ll be sick of my face after this.”

“that’d be hard.”

he watches a sheepish smile reveal itself on your face before it’s gone. you look away. “you’re young, peter. you should be having fun.”

“what are you doing after this?” peter asks, as a challenge.

your brows lift. “this seems like a line.”

he laughs. “not like that.”

you shrug and blink when the flash goes off. “i’ll figure out something. are there any good bars nearby?”

peter pauses, dropping his camera. “are we back to the alcoholic thing.”

“no,” you laugh, “we’re way past that. i just think that your flash is giving me a bit of an adrenaline rush. i could use a calm me down.”

“you okay?”

“i’m kidding, peter. keep going, you’re almost a free man.”

so he does.

you continue to prod him with personal questions, attacking him with your smile and your unsurprisingly sharp wit. you throw his words right back to him, and peter knows, in his deepest of thoughts, that he’s going to be hearing your voice later on.

that when he’s looking back on these pictures, he’s going to see a timeline of your allure, and of his own demise.

he’s already loving and dreading it.

he finishes up by making you laugh from your nose, loud and unprecedented, and so genuinely rewarding that peter has to refrain from clapping himself on the back.

you smile at him as you slip on your jacket, still talking to him, acting too smooth to be just polite.

peter also has to refrain himself from trying to shake your head as he walks you to the door. he tries not to stare any longer, knowing what kind of night he has in store.

“when should i be seeing the pictures?” you ask him, lingering when you finally get to the door.

“sometime next week. i’ll email you a preview with a few different editing styles that you can pick from and then i’ll finish the album.”

“email?”

he scoffs, opening the door for you. “i’ll have you know that not everyone is as young and hip as you. do you know how many grandparents want photos with their family?”

“it just doesn’t seem like you, peter. i’d thought you’d train a carrier pigeon.”

he shakes his head at you, trying to hide his smile.

“but, seriously, thank you so much,” you say to him, voice full and easy, and honest. he can feel your heart and smell your perfume. “i know i’m a lot. especially when i’m nervous.”

“i’m just glad you didn’t ask me about my social security number.”

you reflectively smack yourself on the forehead. “i knew i forgot something.”

peter laughs, letting you slip past him trying to avoid your touch. he doesn’t, and if benjamin franklin was there, he might’ve discovered a whole different type of electricity.

“i’ll talk to you soon,” peter says, and your close enough that it’s almost a whisper. “just let me know if there’s any issues with the pictures, or you have any questions. you’ve got my number.”

“i do.”

his body feels physically repelled from inside the studio, but he forces himself to take a step in anyway. “have a good weekend.”

“you too.”

and then you turn to go, and peter can’t help but stare. he hopes that the tint on the shop windows is enough to keep you from noticing.

but before he can close the door—and mind that it took him an outrageously stupid amount of time—you’re turning back around.

“wait, peter,” you say, voice breathless and jagged. like peters hands as they rush to push open the door again.

it’s embarrassing how quickly he manages to do it.

“yes?”

you smile, like you know exactly what he’s thinking. peter will have that smile branded into his brain.

“do you wanna come with me to get that drink?” you ask him, softly, and wide, with a smile that bursts blood vessels.

peter really needs to get over himself.

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reysdriver · 5 months

Text

Mattress Acting | P.P.

Day 8 of Kinktober: Photography/Sex Tape — peter x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, Minors DNI - smut, sex tape, slight exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, piv sex, creampie

words: 1.3k

a/n: I told yall im gonna stick to kinktober even tho its literally december! NEVER BACK DOWN NEVER WHAT??

The idea had struck you both at the same time last night. When Peter had picked up his camera off his dresser as you were changing into your pyjamas. You heard the click sound of the shutter when you were pulling your shirt over your head, and you knew exactly what it was.

After pulling off the piece of fabric, you saw your boyfriend standing against the wall with a cheeky grin on his face.

“I’ll delete it, I promise.” He said, still smiling.

“You don’t have to.” You told him. “I always like when you use me as a model.”

So now here you were, getting dressed up in your nicest set of sexy underwear while Peter was in his boxers, setting up his camera on a tripod beside your bed.

Once you were done getting ready, you came out of the bathroom and called for Peter’s attention. He looked up at you with wide eyes. As much as you loved his flattery, you were excited to start and didn’t want to waste much time.

“How’s the camera?” You asked, motioning to the stand.

“All set up, everything looks good.” He answered. “I’ll press record whenever you’re ready.”

You smiled at him excitedly. “Let’s make a sex tape, then.”

He pressed the red button on the top of the device, then walked you back to the bed. He kissed you as he laid you back against the sheets, then softly pecked the crown of your head.

“You’re gonna be a goddamn movie star, baby.” Peter told you, then returned to your lips as he laid atop you.

His large hands started travelling all across your body. They started at your cheeks as he held your face close, then they started moving down.

Then, at your chest, they cupped your breast over the bra and kneaded at the lush flesh. When he felt that wasn’t enough for him, he moved one of his hands to your back, and you arched for him, He easily manoeuvred the clasp open, and kept going how he was before.

And finally, at your hips, he pulled you tightly against him, and you could feel his boner through his boxers. Unfortunately, with that and your panties, there were still two layers of fabric separating you from your boyfriend. Now that just couldn’t be anymore.

Luckily, Peter seemed to share your sentiment because he hooked two fingers around your waistband and tugged slightly, wordlessly telling you to lift your hips. And you did, of course. You let him pull down your underwear, and he pulled away from the kiss so he could toss them aside. You watched as he discarded them in the direction of the tripod, and they fell to the floor after hitting the stand about a foot under the camera.

Oh, that camera. You felt the same rush whenever Peter used you as the subject of his photography. In school, he went to you first for every photography assignment he could possibly fit you into—partially because he claimed you as his inspiration, and partially because he knew how much you loved it.

You were pulled out of your haze when you felt Peter shifting his body down along the bed so he could hold his face between your legs.

A swarm of butterflies rushed from your core into your stomach when Peter pressed that first warm kiss to your centre. As if your limbs were moving without you even thinking about them, your legs interlocked behind Peter’s back and your hands latched onto his soft hair.

It seemed like he took your actions as a sort of motivation, he brought his mouth to your clit and began working it. You didn’t even have to perform for the camera; his kisses unleashed a perfectly pornographic moan from deep inside you.

God, the way he knew how to please you with just his mouth was insane. Each and every movement of his tongue or his lips was just so amazingly perfect.

You knew from the start that you wouldn’t last long, but when Peter just kept lapping at your pussy while using all the moves he had kept track of over the time you’ve been together because he knew they made you cum, of course the petit mort was almost here.

Your vision quickly became dark and you started seeing stars. Your jaw fell slack and your hands gripped your boyfriend’s hair. It was almost unbelievable how good he was at this.

And it wasn’t even close to over yet.

“Pete.” You breathed. “That was amazing.”

“Just trying to put on a good show.” He shrugged. He was acting nonchalant, but you could see his smile peeking through his lips.

He lifted himself up, and you could see his hard member straining against his boxers. It was definitely one of your favourite sights of all time.

“You want me to help you with that?” You asked happily.

And because you both knew what the answer was going to be, he just smiled back at you as he removed the little bit of fabric that was covering him.

You dragged your fingers along your own slit, picking up some of your own slick to use as lubrication, then you brought your hand up to grasp his cock as he sat beside you.

Peter inhaled deeply when you wrapped your hand around his dick, and his sounds of pleasure only increased in volume when you started to jerk him off. He definitely didn’t need the extra arousal—he was already hard as a rock from eating you out—but maybe you just wanted to build anticipation even more.

After what you felt was a sufficient amount of strokes to move him along and raise lust, you sat up and nestled yourself onto his lap. You guided him to your pussy and sank down onto him. The stretch around him was so perfect; you and Peter were both audible in proving that.

With hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, you started bouncing up and down on his cock. You kept riding your boyfriend, motivated by his sweet groans close to your ear, but the task was getting somewhat tiresome. Not that it wasn’t exciting, but you felt like your energy had been largely used up by Peter eating you out.

And he clearly noticed this because he brought his hands up to your hips so he could do the hard work. He started lifting and lowering you for both your pleasures, and he did it brilliantly.

You felt Peter gradually tense up, and you knew he was almost at his climax. He twitched once, then twice, inside of you before releasing pumps of cum inside of you. He kept using you for a few pumps after he was all done, then while still inside of you, he laid you on your back and pressed a series of soft kisses on the side of your neck.

Once you had both cooled down, Peter slowly pulled out of you and reached over to the camera and stopped the recording before lying back down and cuddling with you. You hummed with his touch and thanked him quietly. He smiled back at you and interlocked your hands.

“Can we watch it together tomorrow night?” You asked.

Peter brought your hand up to his face and kissed it gently. “Of course. I’ll even promise not to touch the camera until then so I won’t see anything.”

He was too sweet. You pulled the duvet over the two of you and tucked the two of you in with the blanket.

He spoke up again. “And then I can even pick out the best shots, and we could get them framed and put them right up on the wall there.” He smiled and tapped the wall behind the headboard.

You laughed along with him, but you weren’t entirely opposed to the idea.

#xena's kinktober celebration #kinktober #peter parker #tasm #tasm peter #tasm!peter #tasm!peter x reader #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter parker #tasm imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman #spiderman smut #marvel #the amazing spider man

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crazyk-imagine · 4 months

Text

Mean

Pairing: Paul Lahote x Fem!reader

Characters: Fem!reader, Paul Lahote, Sam Uley, Emily Young, Jared Cameron, Embray Call, Tiny Tim (made up)

Warnings: Reader knows about the supernatural, implications of dead parent, ex's inspire people, Sam and Emily are adorable, am I making them my favorites bc of the way I write them lol, Paul and Reader are adorable, Paul is a little shit, so is Embry and Jared, no one can act normal around a sassy person

Word Count: 1,231

A/N: Was I listening to Mean by Taylor Swift? You can't prove anything

I've had this ready for a week, but shit kept happening at work man ughhhhhh

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It was meant to be, or so you thought.

You blink, staring at the ceiling not sure why your ex came to mind.

He was partial to the reason for your move the gloomy town (which you enjoyed more than the sunny state you were in) but not the entire reason.

If only your mom could see you now, working hard and still keeping true to who you are.

You push yourself out of bed, needing to get started on your day.

You finish up and jot down another line, knowing it's slowly turned into a "revenge" song.

You exit your place and hop in your truck, heading down to your favorite person's place.

"Emily, your other honey is home."

Sam lets out a dry laugh. "Funny as always."

"I know, it's one of the perks of being my friend."

"Are going to do..." You snatch a muffin from the tray. "Sam things?"

The couple glance at one another, curious if you know.

"Yeah, we won't be back till later-" He doesn't finish as the boys burst through the door. Almost all ignore you, not aware of your presence.

You mumble, "now I know why you're ready to feed an army."

The boys freeze, all conversations stopping. "Uh-"

"Who's the girl?" Jared asks, snaking a muffin.

You raise a brow, picking at the muffin, breaking it into bite size pieces. "What a question."

"Who's the sassy girl?" The same guy asks.

"How do you deal with idiots?"

Emily snickers, scanning over the pack for their expressions.

"Good thing Paul's not here or else he'd flip a lid," Embry mutters.

You push yourself off the stool and grab your bag. "Later, Em. Bye bye, Sammy."

You wave them off before glancing at the group. "Such an interesting... gang you have here."

You spin around, smirking to yourself, not wanting to let the cat (wolf) out of its bag. "I heard there's going to be a full moon tonight."

Or maybe you don't care if they know you know.

"Does she-"

The door slams shut.

You shake your head, smirking to yourself, proud of your teasing. You bump into a body, not entirely paying attention. "Sorry." You pass by the person and hop in your car, not realizing the electricity he felt in that simple touch.

You look up after putting your keys in the ignition, only to find a dark pair of eyes on yours.

The subtle feeling through your body alerts you.

"Crap. Crap. Crap. Crap." You have to force your gaze away from his. "Please don't be able to read lips. Oh, crap. They can hear." You start pulling out and make it back to your house.

Weeks go by and you screen another one of Emily's calls.

"I'll call her when this passes," you mutter, writing another line. You slam your pencil down, "who am I kidding? It's never going to stop."

You don't want to answer her and send another lie.

Boo Thang #2 <;3

'Sorry, not feeling good. Will text later.' 2:59pm Sent Read

A knock on your door surprises you.

You carefully make your way to the door, scanning through the peephole. Your back's flat against the door. "Why the hell is he here?"

"We need to talk."

"I don't think so."

"You know more than you let on."

"So?"

"We need to talk."

"Can I just call you?"

"No, Emily's been trying for days, and it hasn't worked. Let me in."

You scoff, "not with that attitude."

He growls under his breath, "fine. Please let me in?"

"No."

"You're testing my patience."

"Go test it out with someone else."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"You gotta be more specific bud."

"I don't like that name."

"Bud?"

"Stop it."

You smirk, "bud."

He knocks on your door with more force, trying to get one of your neighbors to come out so they can tell him to stop and make you let him in.

You snarl as the door swings open, "stop it you, idiot." You yank him in, earning a confident smirk from him.

"I don't like this look on you. You think you've won."

"Who says I haven't?"

"Me. I am the one who decides since this is my place."

"Living here alone? Really?"

You shrug, "parents died."

"Oh," he clears his throat, "sorry."

"It's fine. Not your fault."

"So, uh- what do you know?"

"I used to visit when I was a kid and heard the stories because of my cousin."

"You know?"

"That we happen to be united forever essentially, kind of hard not to, not gonna lie."

"Are you upset?"

You furrow your brows, "what do you mean?"

"Your imprints with the hothead. The one with "anger" issues. The list goes on." His brows furrow in annoyance, the pout on his lip making him look... cute.

"Who?"

He shocked you don't know who he is. "Lahote?"

"Paul?" You ask, not entirely sure if you got the right name or not.

"Oh, so you do know."

He sighs, "great."

"Barely, I just remember your guy's names from the elders at the meetings."

"How long has it been since you were in town?"

You shrug, "few years. I haven't been out of the house as much since my life went to crap," you offer a sarcastic smile.

"I feel like I've brought the mood down, do you- do you want to go out? I know this one place with uh- with decent music." He tells you the name and it takes all of you to not smile.

"Let's go, but we take my car."

He lets out a dramatic sigh, "fine."

You two arrive half an hour before you have to go on stage.

You make up an excuse and say you're going to be right back, needing to use the little girl's room.

"Next up, is one of our favorites," the mc, Tiny Tim (your favorite guy there) announces.

You walk across stage, confusing Paul but not Emily and Sam (who told him to take you there if he got far enough). They cheer you on while listening to your song.

All you are is mean And a liar, and pathetic, and alone in life And mean, and mean, and mean, and mean

You make it back to your seat beside your wolf.

"Where'd you learn to do that?"

You shrug, not liking the attention on you.

"That was- that was amazing."

"It was nothing."

"No- no, that was really good." Emily sneaks up behind you. "And that's saying something, Paul doesn't like to use his words to express his emotions."

The man frowns. "We get it. We get it."

You roll your eyes, "stop it, you two."

You two make it back your place. "I should at least drop you off."

He shakes his head, "I'm not that far from you."

"I don't know if I believe that."

"Then believe ne when I say I can run and not get tired."

You narrow your eyes before turning your head to hide your chuckle. "Get out of here, you idiot."

You hear him close the door and stare into the woods, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

The only wolf standing between the path of trees sticks out and you know it's him.

You shake your head, going into your home. "Idiot."

You swear you hear him huff.

#twilight #twilight wolfpack #twilight fanfiction #twilight fanfic #twilight x reader #twilight x you #twilight imagines #twilight imagine #paul lahote #paul lahote imagines #paul lahote imagine #paul lahote fanfiction #paul lahote fanfic #paul lahote x you #paul lahote x reader #crazyk-imagine

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mizusnose · 5 months

Text

Sweet Dark

Reincarnation au,, partially inspired by @libbyfandom whose own mizu x reader reincarnation au had me in tears—thanks for writing it! Also heavily inspired by To Someone From A Warm Climate by Hozier

Summary: Mizu dealing with the aftermath of reader’s death and coming to terms with losing you, then having you again in the modern world.

“But it happened easy darling, as natural as another leg around you in the bed”

———-

Hot blood stained Mizu’s fingers, her wrists, her arms and shoulders where you laid against her. She pressed you to her chest, a child crying in her mother’s breast. A silent cry, none at all.

“Ringo! Get me my cape.” Mizu’s throat was raw, a scream that carried too long. A broken wing mid flight, a bloody landing.

Ringo hurried over, the blood soaked snow crunching beneath his feet. Mizu felt unfocused as she looked down at you, a limp thing in her arms. Something she’d had nightmares about, a dream untethered and untrue, one you’d help her come down from when she gasped awake in the middle of the night. Her sobs a broken noise.

Now, it’s not a dream—it’s real.

Mizu scoops you up, can barely feel the warmth within your chest now that most of it had been lost from the blood lost.

“No no no no no—please, no, no!”

Her front was soaked in your blood. A smell that would faster leave her nose than her own death. One Mizu would wake from, even months after she’d buried you tucked away in Kohama, against the tree line where she’d learned how to fight.

Not enough to fight for you, but a memory nenotheless.

Mizu considered herself someone who didn’t care. About herself, about the world, about anyone—and yet..

The night Ringo had to tear your cold body from Mizu was the start. She hadn’t slept. Waited instead for the sun to rise above the pines, a rustling of a bird in the distance, eyes unfocused.

The nights after that just got worse. Mizu couldn’t sleep. When she would, she’d wake up, hands carrying your frame, your head, your limp arms—and realize her embrace would be empty. A dream put to shame.

She’d went back to Kohama. Try to recenter. Try to train. Try to heal.

Yet, as she’d lay down on the soft of the dirt in the absence of the fire, she’d shiver—a desperate wracking thing. She’d shake and her legs move, seeking out warmth. A heat from somebody rather than something.

Met with coldness, a deep quiet, an empty space.

Mizu didn’t sleep much at all if she could help it. Knew she’d resent the coldness only winter brings. What it meant to lose so much warmth from the loss of you.

She never truly got over it. Even after her life was gone and she’d been born again in the world renewed. She’d never been able to swallow around the lack of it: warmth of the bed from you.

So when she did have you again, everything and every part of you, it was worse than ever losing you.

Maybe because it was the joy that came with relearning it: your shaking against her body from the cool sheets, a duvet holding no heat. She’d pull the blankets over your both. Your face pressed against her neck—the same place you’d breathed your last exhale.

“Not used to the cold?” She’d chuckle.

“Nope,” You’d say, enamored by her, her her, “From a warm climate’s why.”

“You’ll get used to it.” And she’d press her body to yours as if to say see? i told you, see? I can protect you here, see? see?

Mizu wished she could express it all. The way all her dreaming had been put to shame, an instinct that was embedded in her: the cold lake water of her heart boiled over.

She’d think: what an innate primal thing it is to be loved. To experience a bed, warmed by someone you’d lost—someone found again.

And, as if in a dream again, she’d hold you and wake in surprise to see you there: alive, hers.

hers.

———

Hozier’s lyrics = the standard. title from savannah brown’s poetry book of the same name.

#blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #mizu x fem!reader #fanfiction #reincarnation #death #hozier inspired work

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xythlia · 5 months

Text

› satoru x reader snippet inspired by missed connections from old forums

› sfw, small angst, cigarette smoking

You'd met on the train one evening, the exact time eludes you now but you'd been headed home after a particularly grueling workday.

He'd sat beside you, as if it was the most easy action in the universe. You quickly learned everything was like that for him. At first you ignored the closeness as everyone does when a stranger sits beside them, eyes glued to your phone screen and only occasionally sneaking glances at them out of curiosity.

But try as you might to seem aloof he was without a doubt the most beautiful stranger you'd ever laid eyes on, alabaster hair and even with his eyes partially obscured by tinted sunglasses you could tell they were storybook blue: the color so rare it may as well only exist in pages. Still, you'd kept your gaping to a minimum so as to not make him second guess sitting beside you.

Quickly you noticed your phone dying, three percent left, and rummaged in your bag for the little charger you always took with you to and from work. Funnily enough it seemed he had the same problem, and within seconds you were locking eyes, chargers in hands, and it was like the whole world became quiet. No wind from the trains speed, no murmuring from the other passengers, just a blissful sudden silence as you lost yourself in those eyes.

"Sorry, but I think it's mine."

You'd blinked back at him emptily, like a fish on dry land for a second before collecting yourself. The plug was situated between your seats, and something about it made you giggle.

"How close is it to being dead?" You'd asked.

He quirked a brow but indulged you. "Ten percent."

"Got you beat, three percent." You fidgeted with the cord in your hands, "how about we split time? Ten each?"

He offered you an easy smile. "Sure, where are you headed?" He slipped his phone back in his jacket pocket as you plugged yours in.

"Nowhere special, just home."

"Hm, homes pretty special, don't you think?"

You smiled and it struck you that you'd already smiled more in the last five minutes with him than you had all day.

"Maybe you're right, but don't you have a home you take for granted a little bit?" You asked, meeting those aquamarine eyes again.

He huffed out a small laugh. "I guess I do, yeah."

It was so easy to be taken in by him, before you knew it the entire ride had passed by marked by easy, comfortable conversation and his occasional flirty quip that left you averting your eyes and feeling warm beneath your scarf.

"Sorry, I never shared the charger." You genuinely did feel bad for forgetting, too caught up in his strangely comfortable, magnetic aura.

"No big deal," he said stretching his arms behind his head. "But you can make it up to me, if you want?"

You eyed him with faux suspicion, meeting his playful gaze. "How so?"

He grinned so brightly, cultivating more of that strange warm feeling in your chest. "Meet me back here again? Same line, same time. Wait for the train on the 31st."

"I don't even know your name."

"Satoru," he said, "will you meet me again?"

You didn't even stop to consider it, the answer came without you even thinking about it.

"Yes."

The cherry of your cigarette glowed in the dark as you leaned against the railing of your apartment's balcony and you're drawn out of the memory as you take a deep drag. You never did meet him again, not on the train, not anywhere. Putting your trust in the grand plan of the universe you hadn't even exchanged mobile numbers, only the belief that the other would be there sustained you.

But sometimes a grand romantic plan isn't enough.

#jjk #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #jjk drabbles #gojo x you #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen x you

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yes-i-write-fanfiction · 4 months

Note

Hello! I wanna know how would the tfa bots, elite guard and cons react to meeting a female bot who's based off the batmobile(any version is fine) came to life by an allspark fragment.

And maybe developing a crush on her.

I imagine this bot being confident, capable, serious, determined, a bit mysterious and a 100% certified badass. She's the bot version of Batman.

-Optimus feels so bad about his crush because he doesn't think he deserves someone like her. She's so much better than him and he would surely just be a liability to her. That is if she would even accept his feelings to begin with, were he ever to confess to her. Which he won't. He would rather keep all those feelings locked inside rather than air them out and risk getting his spark broken. After all, she's so involved with her job, one that he greatly respects, that he doubts she would even give him a chance. Doesn't stop him from staring at her with goo goo eyes whenever she swings by. Immediately volunteers to help her with whatever case she's working on, partially because he actually wants to help but also so he can protect her (though he knows she can take care of herself).

-Back when he was young, Ratchet dated quite a lot. Most of them were lighthearted, not so serious relationships. Thing was, there was a time in his life when he had a clear type; a bit cold, capable and deadly bots that could beat him up and reassemble him into a weapon if they wanted to. Now' Ratchet hasn't dated anyone for a long time and so he thought he was over this phase. Turns out, no, and now he's got a major crush. He's so tired and frustrated with himself because of it but he's also kinda thinking "yeah, I still got good taste" whenever he thinks about it. Fusses over her injuries whenever she gets back from a case or battle.

-Bumblebee thinks she's so cool but also really intimidating. Because of this, whenever he tries to act smooth or flirt he kinda ends up stumbling over his words or forgetting his next line, simply because his nerves makes his brain short circuit. When his words fail, Bee tries to impress her with his actions. By helping her with her cases, whatever she asked him or not, he tries to prove to her that he's a reliable guy, someone that can keep up with her.

-Bulkhead can't help but idolize her in a way and think of her as invincible. She's just so capable, always so calm and collected. She's like a real hero should be! He can't help but blush just thinking about her, imagining how it would be if she were to ever save him from danger (a damsel in distress kinda scenario). She's his new muse when it comes to art, his usual choice of bright colors creating an interesting contrast with her darker color scheme. Too shy to actually show these to her though.

-Being a cyber-ninja, Prowl is used to being the one slinking around in the shadows, stalking people and so on. But now he sometimes finds himself joined by this new bot, crouched over next to him, silent except for maybe a quiet greeting. And being so close to her, shoulder to shoulder, in the dark... well, he can't help but feel a bit distracted. She values justice but believes in mercy and forgiveness and Prowl finds that not just admirable, but beautiful. He values those quiet moments they have together, even if the intimacy is just in his head.

-Ultra Magnus wants her to join the autobots, simple as that. She would be a great asset. Not only is she capable, she's determined and with a great sense of what's right and wrong. He tells her this many times, putting emphasis of how many people she could help if she became an autobot. What he doesn't say, is how he also would be able to see her more. As a Magnus, Ultra will probably never conjux, as it would put his partner in great danger. But just being close to her, to work with her, would make him happy. She would never need to know of the feelings she inspire within him.

-Similar to Bumblebee, Sentinel finds her slightly intimidating. But that just makes her hotter in his optics. He finds her mysterious aura alluring and the fact that she keeps her distance to most people only makes him more curious. Tries to lay it on thick when he flirts with her but her blunt attitude and confidence makes him stumble. She just seems to unimpressed that it makes him feel awkward, out of place. This only motivates him to try harder though (he will never succeed).

-Jazz loves how much she cares about people. Yeah, she might seem cold and detached but the fact that she works so hard to help everyone, even bad guys, proves that she just wants to help. Her humble attitude and devotion to her cause is inspiring and makes Jazz want to be a better person. The fact that she believes in change and rehabilitation of criminals makes him question the legal system on Cybertron, where 'bad guys' are just thrown in jail.

-Both Jetfire and Jetstorm thinks she's the coolest bot in the universe, no doubt about it. Everything she does is just so effortlessly cool and they find themselves geeking out whenever they hear how she helped someone or beat up some bad guys. Not at all put off by her standoffish attitude and clings to her, complimenting her discreet paint job and unique alt mode. They gush to each other about how cool she is.

-More than anything, Megatron respects her. She's proven herself in every way; as a combatant, as a strategist, as a leader and as an intellectual. Because of this, she is one of the rare people that Megatron sees as an equal. He doesn't try to manipulate her, not like he does with everyone else, knowing that she can see right through it. Wishes he could turn her into a decepticon, maybe even his conjux, but respects her too much to assume that he could achieve that. Her will is like his own, unbreakable, and while it's a shame they have to be enemies, he finds it truly enjoyable to challenge her. (Batman/Joker dynamic except the Joker is arguably more sane).

-Fuuuuck, Starscream is trying so hard to be the Catwoman to this Batman it's almost not funny. Like, she catches him, puts him in handcuffs and the entire time he's like "oh no, foiled again by my most beautiful nemesis, are you sure there's no way I can convince you to let me go?". Does he want to be caught? No. Yes? He hates failing but he loves getting roughhoused by this bot in dark armor. Never stops trying to seduce her to his side.

-Blitzwing get's beat up and the entire time he's thinking "this ain't so bad" because at least he's getting beat up by his crush. While her sense of justice is, admittedly, a bit annoying, it's also so funny because that makes her easier for Random to tease. Not to mention there's nothing more hot than verbal sparring with your crush. Hothead is the one that's most enthusiastic about getting beat up.

-LUGNUT IS LOYAL TO HIS BELOVED CONJUX, STRIKA, AND WOULD NEVER BETRAY HER TRUST BY FALLING FOR SOME AUTOBOT-ALLY! ... That doesn't mean he can't look though. What? There's something incredibly attractive about a bot in dark armor that has a ton of hidden weapons on their person.

-Knowing how intelligent she is, Shockwave is incredibly weary of her, being confident that if they met she would somehow figure out that he's undercover as Longarm. This makes her a serious threat to his mission and the decepticon cause. At the same time, however, he can't deny how attractive this makes her in his optic. Finding someone that's so intelligent and perceptive is rare and her overall abilities makes her incredibly alluring.

-If Starscream is trying to be Catwoman, then Blackarachnia IS Catwoman. While she doesn't enjoy her plans being foiled, she finds herself charmed by this vigilante. They just have this aura of mystique around them that makes her want to get closer. Plays around with them while at the same time going all out. Surprisingly finds herself enjoying the challenge.

#transformers imagine #transformers animated #optimus prime #ratchet #bumblebee #bulkhead #prowl #ultra magnus #sentinel prime #jazz #jettwins #jetfire #jetstorm #megatron #starscream #blitzwing #lugnut #shockwave #blackarachnia

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blackat-t7t · 1 month

Text

Another jangobi idea I don't think I've talked about anywhere:

Soulmates AU

Inspired a bit by this fic and this other one

(For some reason, this fic, or at least the first part, really wants to be written from Jaster's perspective, instead of Jango or Obi-Wan's 😆)

Fun ("fun") fact- according to wookieepedia, both the battle of Galidraan and Obi-Wan's time on Bandomeer take place in 44 BBY. (I love playing with this fact.)

So, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon are on their way back to Coruscant after Bandomeer, when the jedi council sends out a request for any masters or knights who are in the area and aren't otherwise engaged to join Dooku on his way to Galidraan as backup.

Obi-Wan is supposed to stay on the ship, but he feels the Force urging him to go out, and he's curious. When he sees the mandalorians and jedi squaring off, he recognizes his soulmark painted on Jango's armor, and he can't believe his soulmate would have done the things the governor has accused them of. He thows himself in between Dooku and Jango and begs them not to fight. Although they argue over Obi-Wan's head, the truth eventually comes out that the Jedi were told the True Mandalorians were killing innocents and came to stop them, and the True Mandalorians were set up by the governor and Death Watch. Some of them are sent out to secure the governor and any Death Watch still on the planet, and the mandalorians and jedi agree to a ceasefire while they sort things out. Jango (head of True Mandalorians' supercommandos) calls in Jaster (the Mand'alor) to handle the politics and negotiations.

Later, Obi-Wan sneaks into the mandalorian camp hoping to spot Jango again, and ends up hiding from a passing mandalorian in Jaster's command tent. When Jaster asks what he's doing, Obi-Wan swears he's not a spy, he was just curious. They end up discussing mandalorian iconography, the mythosaur skull and the variant that is the True Mandalorians' sigil, the shreik hawk that the Death Watch wear, jaig eyes, the journeyman protector symbol, etc. Jaster, of course, is happy to educate him. When Jango stops by, Obi-Wan asks about the lightsaber in the symbol on his armor, and Jango is kind of dismissive, says it's not a lightsaber, but the Darksaber. Jaster explains the history.

Eventually, Qui-Gon comes to bring Obi-Wan back to the Jedi ship because they're leaving. He didn't recognize the symbol on Jango's armor at first, but now he's remembered Obi-Wan's soulmark and put two and two together. He doesn't want anyone to realize Obi-Wan is Jango's soulmate, partially because of the political implications and the age difference- but mostly because, after Xanatos, he's convinced that any close relationships, including soulmates, can lead a jedi to fall, and he doesn't want Obi-Wan and Jango to become close.

Before he leaves, Obi-Wan asks Jaster to tell Jango he's sorry they couldn't get to know each other better. Jaster is confused at first, but he quickly realizes what Obi-Wan was saying, and why Obi-Wan was asking about the mythosaur and the light/darksaber symbols, which are both part of the soulmark. When Jango comes to see him, he asks if Jango has checked his soulmark. Jango does, and it's colored in now instead of in greys. The lightsaber has the unique shape of the darksaber, but it's blue, which surprises him. He says he didn't feel a pull to any of the Jedi he met, and asks why Jaster thought the color might have changed. Jaster reminds him of Obi-Wan, intervening to protect Jango and asking about the symbols in the soulmark. By this point, Obi-Wan and the jedi have already left, and Jango can't go after them because he has responsibilities in mandalorian space.

Of course, this is only the begining of the story. There's more, when Obi-Wan seeks mandalorian help while on Melida/Daan, and when he's on Mandalore to protect Satine. But that's the basic premise of the fic.

#jangobi #kenfetti #fic ideas #soulmates #soulmarks #star wars #a blackat-t7t original #blackat-t7t's fic ideas

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mymoonagedaydream · 1 year

Text

Summary: You thought that dying of exposure was the worst thing that could happen to you out in the desert. You were wrong.

Pairing: Mechanic!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: Language, some very PG 13 smut

Author’s Note: Yes this oneshot was partially inspired by Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood and yes, I'm British so I had to Google what a slugger was. Everyday's a school day folks. It was also partially inspired by that one photo from a movie I've never seen that I used in the banner okthanksbye.

There was nothing coming. Not a single other vehicle had passed since you broke down over two hours ago. The roof of your car was getting pretty unbearably hot now, even through the layers of clothes you were using as a makeshift picnic blanket you could feel it starting to burn your legs. You considered trying to sit inside for a while again, but you had to give up last time because it became like a fucking sauna, and at least up here you were clearly visible to anyone passing.

---

This isn’t how you thought you were going to die. Granted, you’d never actually spent a great deal of time considering it before, but there wasn’t much else to occupy your mind while you slowly baked underneath the midday sun. You looked up and down the road once more, still only able to see a few feet clearly before the rising hot air started to blur and obscure the view. The brown, cracked landscape stretched on and on before bending over the horizon and disappearing out of sight.

You checked your phone once more but, unsurprisingly, service had not magically descended upon you. Glancing over your shoulder at the bonnet, propped open and somehow still smoking, you wondered whether it was a bad idea to be this close to an engine that could probably explode at any second. At least a quick death would be less painful than slowly being cooked alive.

Leaning your head back and squeezing your eyes closed, a new sound caught your attention. Something whirring in the distance. Your head snapped towards it, eyes straining at the horizon, heart jumping when it came into view. A pickup truck.

A sudden burst of energy hit and you scrambled onto your feet, balancing precariously and frantically waving your arms above your head. As it moved closer you started to smile to yourself, overjoyed thinking that you’d soon be somewhere with shade and cold water, somewhere with air conditioning.

Your face dropped, however, when you realised that it wasn’t slowing down. You waved your arms faster. Nothing. You started to jump up and down, shouting as loud as you could.

“Hey! Stop, I need help!”

Your voice cracked as it drew closer. Your arms dropped and you watched, helplessly, as it sped past, too fast for you to even make out the face of the driver. Jumping down to the ground and running into the middle of the road, you screamed after it.

“Fuck you, motherfucker! ”

Bursting with anger, you pathetically kicked a rock, barely managing to muster the energy to move it more than a few feet. That was it, your one chance at rescue, gone. You squatted down, needing to rest but knowing the asphalt would be hot enough to fry an egg. You could feel the sunburn starting to prickle on your arms.

There was nothing else for it now, you’d have to walk. Either you’d come across civilization eventually or you’d just die, both were better options than being found out here as a sun-bleached skeleton in three weeks' time. You grabbed your backpack and all of your remaining water from the car, setting off in the direction you’d been heading before the breakdown. You knew there was nothing for miles in the direction you’d come from, so this was your best bet.

You’d been walking for over an hour when the vague shape of a building appeared on the horizon. You were half-convinced it was a mirage but, once you picked up your pace, the blurred outline started becoming clearer. The rusty old roadside sign eventually came into view and you saw that it was a baseball themed diner called The Slugger’s Dugout . You looked around, there wasn’t a blade of grass in sight. Strange place to play baseball.

You practically ran the final stretch towards it, the taste of dry baked earth caking your throat and tongue as you kicked up clouds of dust. You stopped dead, however, when you reached the edge of the parking lot and noticed that there was just one car sitting outside. The fucking pickup truck. This would be interesting.

You burst through the door and threw yourself at the counter, making the elderly server jump out of her skin and almost drop a pot of steaming coffee.

“Are you alright, dear?”

“I broke down,” your throat was so dry that your words were coming out horse and sticky, “do you have a phone? And water?”

She kicked into gear a lot faster than you’d expected after hearing that. She filled a tall glass with tap water and placed it in front of you, patiently waiting for you to gulp it down before reaching three quarters out of the tip jar and pointing out the payphone on the far wall.

“There’s a card over there for a towing company, they should be able to help you out.”

You thanked her profusely, returning the glass and sliding the change into your palm.

You only then realised that, in all the excitement around finally quenching your thirst, you’d briefly forgotten that the person you now hated most in the world was somewhere inside this building. Was it the elderly server who’d abandoned you on the side of the road? Well, the door said they opened at 8am and she was the only employee here, so either she’d been very late for her shift or there was someone else skulking around.

You gave her a suspicious side-eye while you wandered towards the phone but you instantly felt bad about it. The coins clinked as you dropped them into the slot, the dial tone sounding through the receiver. You pressed in the number from the faded business card taped up on the wall. A lady with a thick accent answered the call and, as you were explaining your situation to her, you spotted someone walk out of the bathroom and take a seat in one of the booths.

He looked like a fucking pickup truck driver. Flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows, old blue jeans, dirty brown hair slicked back. You could feel anger rising in your stomach as you watched him begin to eat. You were so distracted giving him daggers that you almost missed the lady on the other end of the phone telling you that they wouldn’t be with you until 7pm.

That was the final straw.

You slammed down the receiver, making the poor server jump once again, and marched over to his table, bracing yourself against the seat opposite him.

“Thanks for the help back there, asshole.”

He looked up from his plate and eyed you calmly, staying silent. That just riled you up even more.

“Seriously? I could’ve fucking died out there, you couldn’t have stopped for just a few minutes? What, were you in a rush to get to the bacon pancakes before they sold out? Were you late for the ignorant cunt convention?”

“No.” There was a clatter as he dropped his fork on the table.

“There was another incredibly good reason then, was there?”

“Yeah, actually, cause the last time I picked up a hitchhiker she started smoking crack in the passenger seat then robbed me.”

“I'm not a fucking hitchhiker. My car broke down, did you not see the tower of smoke?”

“No.”

He was lying, the piece of shit was definitely lying.

“Fuck you.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you got yourself into a situation you weren’t prepared for, sweetheart. Play with fire, get burned.”

You sucked your teeth in frustration and began to storm out, but got distracted by something just beside the door. It was a little area designed for kids to take pictures in, with a backdrop of a baseball field and a wooden bat propped up against the wall. The sign above it read:

Take a swing and make a memory at The Slugger’s Dugout!

Well, if they insisted.

You casually picked up the bat and pushed the door open, waltzing over to the lovely shiny pickup truck glinting under the sun.

Batter up.

With one swift movement, you connected the end of the weapon with one of the tail lights, shattering the glass and watching it splinter onto the floor. It was gloriously fucking satisfying. You heard the sound of the door swinging open behind you almost immediately.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

You twisted around, pointed the baseball bat at him with a smile and winked. “Play with fire, get burned asshole.”

He started yelling wildly but you tuned out, dragging the bat across the floor as you walked away, preparing yourself for the hour-long trek back to the car.

At least you’d be in a better mood for this one.

---

You could only have been walking for ten minutes when you heard a sputtering engine approaching from behind. You didn’t turn to look, you knew exactly who it would be. Your hand tightened around the weapon you were still holding.

The truck pulled up beside you and the passenger window slid down, but you didn’t break stride, walking straight past it without so much as a sideways glance. Out the corner of your eye you saw it begin to slowly roll forwards, eventually matching your pace and cruising beside you

“Hey, Babe Ruth.” You ignored him. “Look, I’m sorry, alright? I should’a helped. Can I give you a ride?”

Well, that wasn’t what you were expecting. You stopped abruptly and turned towards the window, prompting him to slam on the brakes.

“You really shouldn't be driving with a tail light out, y’know. It’s dangerous.”

“You shouldn't be messing with strange men out in the desert.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No,” a hint of a smirk crept over his mouth, “but there's bigger assholes than me out here.”

“Doubt it.”

You considered for a second. On the one hand, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of accepting his help but, on the other, it’d be pretty fucking stupid to decline when there was still a slim chance you could die out here. The sun was searing hot now, sweat rolling down your forehead and aches starting in all your joints.

With the bat still gripped firmly in your hand, you reluctantly swung the door open and climbed in. The blasting air-con was annoyingly refreshing. A candy wrapper crunched under your foot as you got comfortable, the faint smell of stale cigarettes mixed with cheap aftershave seeping out of the seat beside you. He offered you a bottle of water, which you eagerly accepted, finishing off half of it without taking a breath.

As the truck rolled away, he turned towards you.

“I’m Bucky, by the way.” You nodded. “So where you headed?”

“Let's not small talk.”

“Suit yourself.”

He reached over to the centre console and switched on the radio, turning the volume up offensively loud when he heard whatever generic, god-awful country song was playing. You lost it when he started tapping along on the steering wheel.

“This is worse.”

“You just keep gettin’ burned today, don’t you?”

You rolled your eyes. You had to sit through three whole banjo-plucking, pickup-trucking, cousin-fucking slow jams before you saw your poor little car approaching in the distance. It had stopped smoking, at least, but you had no idea if that was a good sign.

Your driver pulled off the road and parked up directly in front of the wreckage, giving it a dubious frown.

“How long did they say for a tow truck?”

“Six hours.”

He burst out laughing and opened his door, climbing out of the car. You sat for a few seconds and watched him approaching the open bonnet, very confused, before following suit and exiting the truck.

“Can I help you?”

“No,” he flashed you a smile, “but I can help you.”

After properly securing the hood, he leaned over the front of the car and started tinkering with god knows what, tutting occasionally. You loitered behind him and watched suspiciously. It looked like he knew what he was doing but you didn’t trust him at all.

"You wanna back off a little? I can feel you breathing down my neck."

“What are you doing?”

“Look, I can stand here and try to explain it or I can try to fix it, your choice.”

"Fine," you slinked backwards, "but if this is some kind of eye for an eye, car for a car revenge plan you've hatched, I will fucking come for you."

"That a promise?"

His unexpectedly flirty tone caught you off guard for a second. You tried to think of a witty retort, but all attempts just seemed to die on your tongue. That had never happened before.

It only occurred to you then that, in your new position standing a few feet behind him, you'd gained a pretty impressive view. You tilted your head slightly. Those blue jeans were really working overtime.

"Everything alright back there?"

You snapped out of your daze. "Yeah, what, why?"

"You haven't insulted me in over a minute, thought you might've fainted or somethin'." He stood up and turned towards you with a smile, wiping his hands down the front of his shirt. "You wanna make yourself useful and try to start her up?"

With a brief scowl in his direction, you climbed into the driver's seat and tried the ignition. A slightly smug smile settled on your face when it sputtered for a few seconds and died.

"Try again."

"Might be time to admit defeat my guy." You turned the key once more, it worked. "Holy shit."

"Not bad, huh?"

You were actually incredibly impressed, but there was no way in hell he was going to find that out.

"That depends, will it last?"

He strolled over and leaned over the open driver's side door, shrugging. "Would help if I knew how far you were going."

"About two hundred more miles."

He laughed. "Not a chance."

"Brilliant."

You didn't care. As long as he'd done enough to get you off this godforsaken stretch of road, that was enough. You jumped out and retrieved your backpack and weapon from his truck, pleased that you’d taken a gamble and accepted his help, but even more pleased that you could now drive away and never have to see him again.

Why did god have to give such great asses to such awful people? What a waste.

"Here," he stopped you before you got back into your car and pulled out his wallet, grabbing a slip of paper and holding it towards you, "stop at this workshop. They'll help you out."

"I don’t have any money."

"Well, maybe just tell 'em that after they’ve fixed it up."

"Alright."

You plucked it from his fingers, climbed in behind the steering wheel and slammed the door, so ready for this shit chapter to be behind you. Asshole only moved out of the way after you revved at him a few times, holding his arms out in annoyance and shouting.

"You're welcome!"

You ignored him and drove off. He'd helped you out but, after the shit he'd pulled earlier, you figured this just made you even. No need for thanks.

---

You pulled into The Slugger's Dugout on your way past, intending to apologise, return the bat and pick up the broken glass you'd left scattered in the parking lot. When you got out of the car, however, you couldn't seem to find a single piece of it. He must’ve beat you to it. That explains why it took him ten fucking minutes to come pick you up.

A car horn blared from the road and you looked up to see the hick truck whiz past, probably too fast to clock the middle finger you stuck up at it.

You pulled the stolen baseball bat out of your car and timidly wandered inside, unsurprised at the hostile look that the poor old dear behind the counter greeted you with.

"Just… returning this."

You placed it back where you found it and gave her an awkward smile. Before you could escape, however, she leaned over the counter looking like she was ready to unleash a verbal thrashing.

"Now you look here, miss. I understand that you were upset, I would be too, but he is a good man and he didn't deserve that."

You winced slightly, trying not to come across too argumentative. "A good man who left me on the side of the road to die?"

"I'm sure he had his reasons."

You nodded, too intimidated by her strict demeanour to argue back anymore. Why was she so much scarier than the broad-chested tower of a man you just spent the last hour laying into?

"Do you know him?"

"Not very well, but he used to come in here every single Sunday with his father. Every week I watched him help that old man out of the car and to a table, watched them talk and laugh together for hours. I don't think I've ever seen someone of his age look so happy," her expression changed, "but I haven't seen the two of them for months now. That was the first time he's ever been here alone, I didn’t like to ask what happened."

You nodded again, figuring both of you could guess exactly what happened. If she was trying to make you feel like a guilty piece of shit then she was doing a cracking job.

Personal tragedy aside, however, he still acted like an ass.

After thanking her again for her help earlier, you headed out. There wasn't much more you needed to know about a guy you were probably never going to see again.

---

The garage you’d been recommended was just over an hour away, there was weak service outside the diner so you managed to scope it out on maps. To your great relief, as you drove, the stretching desert started to gradually give way to actual civilization, a small, dilapidated town springing up around you. It seemed like the kind of place where people were born, lived and died without ever leaving. You dreaded how they’d react to a broke stranger turning up and begging for free help.

Eventually reaching your destination, you pulled up into the forecourt, cringing at the sound your engine made as it powered down. There was no way in hell that any self-respecting mechanic would come near this thing without a hefty down payment. Still, all you could do was try.

You left the rustbucket and wandered through the open shutter, looking around for any signs of life, preferably someone in coveralls who looked easily manipulated. There was only one person inside. You couldn’t believe it.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

He spun round, a clang sounding when he dropped whatever complicated tool he was holding onto a nearby table. “Hey, firecracker. I thought you’d ignored some great advice there for a second.”

“And I thought I’d finally got rid of you,” you scanned your eyes around desperately for anyone else who looked vaguely useful, “but hey, at least one of us is happy.”

“It’s just me here, darlin’. The other guys are on lunch.”

“Fantastic.”

He met your unimpressed scowl with a wink as he strolled past. “The shitbox out front?”

“Mhmm.”

You weren’t too sure what was happening here. He already knew you couldn’t pay, and he knew how much work that fucking thing needed, so what was his plan? There was very little you could do to repay any kind of debt to him, and even less that you were actually willing to do. You wondered how easy it would be to just do a runner with the car once it was back in working order.

He opened up the bonnet again but barely even glanced over it before turning back towards you.

“It’s gonna be a few hours at least. There’s a bar just around the corner,” he pointed down the street, “if you wait there I’ll come find you when it’s done.”

“Look, when I said I had no money, I wasn’t exaggerating. Apart from a little gas money I think I’ve got about fifteen dollars to my name right now. A beer would cost me over a third of my net worth.”

You were half-expecting him to slam the hood down and tell you to get lost after that, but he didn’t. He just chuckled and shook his head.

“Start a tab, give ‘em my name. They know I’m good for it.”

“That’s a risky offer.”

“Nah,” he pulled a dirty rag from his back pocket and used it to wipe down his hands, “surely the crazy broad who called me a cunt and busted my tail light can’t also have a drinking problem, right?”

You shrugged.

---

The door to the bar was unexpectedly heavy, almost tugging your shoulder out of its socket when you tried to yank it open. You felt a little embarrassed when you noticed a couple heads turning in the direction of the pathetic stranger wrestling with the slab of wood. Once inside, you apprehensively looked around, forcing down a dry gulp. This place was seedy as hell, maybe Bucky really did want you dead.

His idea worked, though, and you managed to set up a tab without any qualms. He must send ladies in here with that line all the time.

You decided to settle yourself on a stool at the end of the bar, reasoning that it might be marginally safer to stick as close as you could to the only staff member in the building. The hours passed slowly. It was almost five thirty when Bucky eventually trudged through the door and planted himself on the stool beside you.

He pointed to your glass. “What’re you drinking?”

“Just soda water, got a long drive tonight.”

“No you don't,” he hailed the bartender, “two double scotches, no ice.”

“What?”

“That thing ain’t gonna be ready ‘till at least tomorrow, midday.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“Nope. Your suspension is more rust than metal.”

“Where the fuck am I supposed to sleep, then?”

He shrugged, picking up one of the glasses that the bartender had deposited in front of you and taking a quick nip. You leaned forward and let your head collapse onto the bar as a wave of hopelessness passed over you.

“Bucky, I am so exhausted. I’ve slept in my car for over a week and I haven’t had a proper shower in twice that.” Your words started to crack as tears welled in your eyes. “I don’t think I can handle this.”

“Woah, hey, don’t cry. It’ll be alright.”

“How? In what fucking world is it going to be alright?”

“Look, you can stay at my place tonight.”

You lifted your head to shoot daggers at him, in disbelief at how he was trying to engineer this situation. “You can’t be serious.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’ll sleep on the couch, you can take the bed.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Cause then we’d be even, right? Surely a smashed tail light, a fixed-up car and a place to stay balances out leaving you to die in the desert?” You raised an eyebrow in faint agreement. “Plus I can’t handle it when women cry, if this’ll make you stop then it’s worth it.”

You smiled at him, which was a new experience. Grabbing your glass of golden liquid from the bar, you drank it all down in one, immediately regretting your decision when it kicked you in the back of the throat like a pissed off mule. Bucky laughed at you before standing up gesturing for you to follow him out.

The two of you walked in silence for a few minutes before he hesitantly piped up.

“So, you gonna tell me why the hell you’re driving through the desert on your own, or am I still in the doghouse?”

“You’re still in the doghouse.” A prompting look in your direction somehow swayed you a little, you were getting too soft. “It’s really not exciting, I just got kicked out of my apartment. I used to have some family out here but we lost touch, now tracking them down is my only shot at avoiding living in my car full-time.”

“I wondered why there was so much crap piled in the back of that thing.”

“Mhmm, everything I own in the world is in that car. Had to sell most of my stuff for gas money, though.”

“That sucks.”

“Yep.” You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, for some reason now experiencing some pangs of curiosity about your host. “How about you?”

“Me? What d’you mean?”

“Well, the lady at that diner said she used to see you with your dad a lot, but that you hadn’t been in for a while.”

“You two were talking about me?”

“She was talking at me, trying to convince me that I was the asshole.”

“I always liked her.” He smirked slightly, but it faded as he carried on. “My dad died a few months back. It was pretty hard, he was a good guy, helped me out a lot. More than I deserved, anyway."

“Go on.”

“Well, I was kind of an idiot a few years back. I let some shitty friends talk me into some stupid ideas and wound up inside for a few months.”

“Shit.”

“It was, I pretty much lost everything. When I got out I was pretty depressed, so all I wanted to do was get high and sleep, but he didn’t let me. He got me the job at the garage and gave me enough money for a couple month’s rent, to be honest I’d probably be dead now without him.”

“He sounds great.” The two of you exchanged warm glances for a second, but you didn’t want to give him any untoward ideas about the evening, so you continued. “It’s nice when people don’t leave others to die.”

“You have to let that go at some point.”

“I really don’t.”

When the two of you reached his apartment, you jumped straight into the shower, triple checking that the ensuite door was firmly locked before doing so. The place wasn’t nearly as dirty or bachelor pad-esque as you’d expected. Yeah, it was half-empty and hardly decorated, but that was to be expected of any man living on his own. At least it didn’t smell like ass.

Bucky was already knocked out on the couch when you came out of the bathroom, his neck folded in half and his feet dangling over the edge. It was his own fault for only buying a two-seater.

You changed into the t-shirt and gym shorts he’d left out for you, just hoping to god they were clean, and jumped into bed. It was far from perfect but, compared to the backseat of your car, it could’ve been a five star hotel. You drifted off almost instantly.

---

You were woken by a few loud raps on the bedroom door. It took you a few seconds of panic to remember where the hell you were, your head falling back into the pillow once you did so.

“What?”

“Are you all covered and stuff?” The low voice came through the wood. “I really need to pee.”

You let out a groggy laugh. “Go ahead.”

Bucky burst into the room and sprinted over to the bathroom, holding onto his junk like a child about to pee their pants. You would’ve laughed even harder at that sight, but you found yourself a little distracted by the fact that he was also shirtless. You only got a brief glance but, fucking hell, he was build like a brick wall. Suddenly you were wide awake.

You could hear him pissing like a firehose through the bathroom door and sighing audibly when he was finished. He wandered back through after a minute and paused at the foot of the bed.

“How’d you sleep?”

You were trying your very best to stay composed under the circumstances. “Mhmm, good, thanks.”

“Were the clothes I left out okay?”

“Yeah, yep, all good.”

“You alright?”

“Fine. Why?”

“You’re acting weird. Did something happen?” He grabbed a fistful of the duvet and tried to yank it out of your grip. “Did you piss the bed?”

“No I didn’t piss the fucking bed, Jesus.”

“What’s up then?”

You sat up, looking from his face, down to his chest, then back up to his face with a confused expression. He quickly cottoned on to what you were getting at.

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I made myself a coffee but spilled it down my shirt, and all my clothes are in here.”

He gestured over to the chest of drawers. You weren’t super convinced by that explanation, it sounded like he was making it up on the spot, but you nodded anyway.

“It’s fine.”

“It is?”

“Mhmm.”

“Good.”

His expression changed. Your heart started thudding, the look he was giving you making you start to break out in a sweat, your toes curling under the covers.

Reaching down, he grabbed hold of the duvet again but, this time, he tore it away and dropped it onto the floor with one swift movement. Moving slowly, cautiously, he climbed onto the bed on his knees, making his way forwards and carefully lowering himself down over you.

Well, you certainly hadn’t expected this. Just a few minutes later the two of you were tangled together so closely that you didn’t know where his body stopped and yours began. The skin on his face and hands felt rough as it grazed over yours, the sensation making you gasp each time you felt it, the deep chuckle that sounded right beside your ear in response making your stomach flutter wildly. As he panted, his warm breath spread over the side of your neck, sending an electric tingle all the way down your spine. This felt good, really fucking good. This might’ve been exactly what you needed.

What felt like hours later, he rolled over and landed with a thud on the mattress beside you, both of your chests rapidly rising and falling in unison. Lulling his head in your direction, he gave you a smile.

“Y’know,” he pushed his words out between deep breaths, “you could stay here for a while, if you wanted to. While you figure things out.”

“Was it that good?”

“Hell yeah it was.”

You laughed at his corny ass. “So, what you’re saying is that you’d be willing to give me a place to stay in exchange for sex? Sounds dangerously close to prostitution.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He rolled onto his side, resting his head on his hand so he could look you in the face. “You can stay with or without sex, I just like your company. No point sleeping in a crappy car when there’s a perfectly good bed right here.”

You gave him a smile. “I’ll think about it.”

---

After breakfast, Bucky gave you a ride to the garage in the pickup truck, now complete with a duct tape covered tail light. He said he could finish off the final touches on your car while you waited in the office, apparently the bar wasn’t open this early and there was nothing else to do in town apart from a shitty cafe and a gun range.

The two of you ducked under the half-open shutter and he headed into the back, telling you to wait by your car for a few minutes while he tidied up. The place was pretty small, just one other car being worked on aside from yours. You wondered how Bucky’s dad got him the job here, whether he had an in with the owner or whether he was just that easy a guy to trust. Running your fingers over the tools lined up on the workbench, you thought that maybe you could be happy with a life here, maybe it was exactly what you’d been looking for.

You almost jumped out of your skin when an older, grey-bearded man in coveralls suddenly appeared beside you. He gestured toward the rustbucket.

“This yours?” You nodded politely. “Here.”

He was trying to hand you the keys, eyes glued to the clipboard he was holding.

“Oh, Bucky said it still needed some work.”

He looked confused. “This one? Nah, this was ready to go yesterday. He said you were out of town or something.”

“He said what?”

Grey beard replied but you didn’t hear it, too busy piecing together the events of last night and becoming increasingly more pissed off as you did so. Bucky had lied to you for a quick lay, of course he fucking had. You felt like such an idiot. You snatched the keys and asked the now very puzzled looking man to open the shutter for you, climbing in and firing up the engine as he did so.

Bucky appeared at your window. “What are you doing?”

“Ask your friend over there.”

You gestured over to the other employee, who just shrugged while yanking on the shutter chain, and a wave of realisation washed over Bucky’s face.

“Let me explain.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

He banged his hand on the side of the car in frustration, quickly moving round to stand between it and its route to freedom.

You honked the horn. “Move, asshole.”

“Not until you hear me out.”

“Why should I? I don’t fucking know you, I don’t owe you shit.”

“Right.” Moving at a lightning pace, Bucky somehow managed to sprint around the side of the car, yank open your door and pull the keys from the ignition before you could even register what was happening. “Get out.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

With a frustrated sigh, he hurled the keys as hard as he could out onto the forecourt. “What’s your plan now, huh?”

You grunted loudly, narrowed your eyes at him and stepped out, marching straight past him and heading outside. He caught your arm before you reached the keys.

“Just stop for a second.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Tough shit. I’m going to talk and you’re going to fucking listen, alright?” His firm tone shocked you a little, it was enough to make you relent just for a second. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have lied. I just wanted to spend some more time with you.”

“Well you pulled that off, so congrats, but now that you’ve had what you were after I’d like to go.”

“It wasn’t like that, I wanted more than that.” He rubbed his forehead. “I want more than that.”

“I’ve heard it all before, Buck. You barely even know me, just let me leave and we can both move on.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Cause you’re the only fucking thing that hasn’t depressed or bored me since I lost my dad, alright? I know it sounds stupid, but watching you take out my tail light was the first time I’d actually felt alive in months,” he slid his grip on your arm down, taking your hand in his, “and, maybe I’m out of line here, but I think you feel the same.”

You thought back.

Jesus, he was right. That was the first time you’d actually been in a good mood since leaving your apartment. Surely it can’t be healthy to base any kind of relationship on the joy you get from destroying each other’s property and screaming at each other, though? Can it?

In all fairness, he was the only person you’d even met that actually kept you on your toes, and you quite liked that. Usually people just responded to your insults with offence or tears.

“I don’t know. I mean, I guess, but I’m just not sure that-”

Your train of thought derailed completely when his mouth crashed against yours, your words getting swallowed as all of the breath left your lungs at once. You were hesitant at first, but you soon relented, relaxing, wrapping your arms around his neck and smiling against him, which he reciprocated.

He pulled away, looking incredibly pleased with himself. “So that’s how to shut you up.”

“Won’t work every time.”

“Worth a try, though.”

---

353 notes · View notes

pettypiastri · 1 year

Text

the webs we spin

coho!jack hughes x fem reader

wc: 6.9K

warnings: swearing, drinking, alcohol, drunkenness, partial nudity, sexual innuendo/references, moderate NSFW scene (involves: degradation, dom/sub, name calling, taunting), fwb

a/n: this was inspired by the visuals/vibe in a (I THINK?) luke blurb where reader comes to get luke hughes when hes drunk (I THINK?) and i cannot remember for the life of me who wrote it though i will scour for it and give credit where its due! (EDIT: its this johnny beecher blurb from the incredibly talented @lucafantilli pls go check it out and her writing in general!) this is obviously a college AU of current devils at the university of michigan so miles= miles wood, dawson= dawson mercer, john= john marino, and nico= nico hischier ofc ofc. the game referenced is actually from a wisco game from two seasons ago just a diff opponent lmao.

its a bit different than my normal/preferred writing style/voice but hopefully its still good! 🤞 enjoy!

italics are flashbacks

Y/N POV

Chaos is not how you choose to start your morning. Scratch that. It’s not how anyone chooses to start their morning. But you did choose to let Jack fall asleep next to you last night after he came over. And that is a choice you still don’t regret. Despite his choice to cause an absolute ruckus leaving for morning workout.

“Fuck Y/N where’s my hoodie?” Jack is frantically turning your bedroom on its head at a ripe 6:20am. You’re walking a fine line between helping/consoling him and telling him to shut the fuck up. God damn feelings makes it the former.

“Jacky hun, I’m literally wearing it, did you forget? Here, take it. Just grab me something else to wear from the dresser.” Cooing gently to try and calm the rancid energy in the room you cross your arms over your head and remove the Michigan emblazoned hoodie from your figure. You suppose you’re so comfortable around him, after he’s seen you naked so many times, that exposing your chest doesn’t give you pause. But it certainly gives Jack pause. His cheeks flush as he looks down at your breasts. He’s shy, as if he didn’t spend 10 minutes leaving marks on them last night. Seeing his reaction makes you blush, cause if he’s blushing shouldn’t you be too??

You raise a nervous arm to drape across your boobs, sheltering what you can from his beady gaze. The movement seems to bring reality back to the forefront of Jack’s mind. He sees you’re nervous now from his staring and feels a sinking in his chest; that’s the last thing he ever wants to make you feel. He clears his throat and spins on his heel toward your dresser. Fuck, he hopes he hasn’t made you insecure. He flings open a, frankly, unnecessary number of drawers until he finds some big t-shirts and picks one up. Jack, with corrected reaction and head held high now, treads over to you smiling softly. Instantly the fire on your face cools and you find enough confidence to hold his gaze. Gently he reaches for the hoodie and plucks it out of your tight grasp.

“Thank you, love. Here.” He drops the new shirt over your head, coaxing you to slide your arms through. It’s an intimate moment with him speaking so quietly and watching you with a renewed softness. Jack doesn’t hesitate to slip his hand against your cheek and lean down for a kiss. He holds you there for a moment and it feels all too domestic: your hockey player boyfriend leaving early in the morning for a workout, the soft touches and lingering stares. The claustrophobic feeling begins to rise, as much as you wish you could revel in the moment. You know it’s not real and you can’t convince yourself it is.

You break the kiss smiling at Jack to avoid suspicion of the strings you’ve attached yourself to him with. Jack smiles back, unaware of the ploy.

“Sorry umm sorry I fell asleep… well, no I mean I guess I’m more sorry for waking you up.” Jack stumbles over his own thoughts a little bit, revising as he goes. You don’t know whether to be brave or be safe. Given your heart’s armor is about as sturdy as some shitty copy paper right now, you decide to play it safe.

“It’s okay, don’t be sorry. Have a good workout, yeah?” Your gaze stays strong though, pleading for him to hear what you’d really wanted to say: ‘You know you can always stay the night. I like having you here.’ He nods curtly and mumbles out an affirmation, leaning down to slip on his shoes.

You don’t think it’s in your friends with benefits description to walk him to the door at 6:30am, so you curl back up on your bed, dragging the covers over your body.

Jack grabs his phone from where you’d plugged it in to charge last night (grey area behavior too) and pats down his hoodie pocket checking he has everything. Satisfied, he moves toward your bedroom door waving shyly as he steps out. You both bounce soft “bye”s off each other, like tentative echoes searching for something.

To be fair, the friends with benefits description has already been… well, edited I guess you could say. What started out as unspoken “Only when Jack doesn’t have practice” and “No staying the night” became “Only when Jack doesn’t have games the next day” and “No staying the night unless there’s early workout/class in the morning.”

One thing that hadn’t been revised: “This stays between us.” Who decided that one, you don’t know but that was just some kind of stupid rule for all of these types of situations, right? Maybe that’s just what you told yourself to keep from getting attached. Ha, wishful thinking that was.

Jack had been intriguing from the beginning. That hard fuckboy almost exterior was alluring; he knew just what to say and how and when and what smile to give you and the eyes to make. He was pre-planned, meditated, and that was obvious from the girls you’d seen him hand pick from the bar crowd, say a few lines to, and take home. But never the same girl twice. He didn’t really know you and never hand picked you from any of those aforementioned crowds but the fates had it in store for you regardless.

The stupidest trope really. Dumb jock has shitty grades. Prof targets smart punctual student to tutor him. A tale as old as time except you didn’t study at the library or the coffeeshop. No, from day one you invited Jack over to your place, thinking the environment of the library was much too sterile, not very helpful for making a struggling student feel comfortable. But it didn’t quite go how it normally does. He didn’t jump your bones the first time he came over. You didn’t fall into bed with him in a lustful craze and subsequently madly in love with the boy. Not even close.

He was nervous, quite painfully so the first few times. Whether it was the vulnerable environment getting tutored for a class you really shouldn’t be failing, knowing his cocky attitude or athlete title wouldn’t make a difference here, or how taken aback he was at how pretty you really were up close, the first three weeks were professional and timely. Only when you suggested he come over early for some coffee before starting studying and only after you offered he stay for some of the take out that had been delivered to you while he was there, did he start to relax. And even then, it was another two weeks before you texted outside of just arranging study times. For as methodical a pick up artist he seemed to be, this situation was clearly more of a tortoise over the hare type of deal.

In those stolen moments before and after studying, you slowly grew together and from strength to strength. He told you about his family when you shared details about your shitty highschool friends and he remembered that you were always most hangry on Wednesdays since you had kickboxing right before tutoring. It was natural really the way he started dropping his book down on the same side of the table right next to you rather than across, and how he would push your hair behind your ear when you were explaining something hunched over the textbook. It was so natural how you started to grab his bicep more when praising him for doing something right and how you would sit so close on the couch together afterwards that hushed whispers were the loudest you needed to speak. In fact, you’ll be damned if you actually remember the exact moment you went from friends to something more, the transition so seamless you don’t have a memory of the first time you kissed.

But eventually you did start to end up in bed together. Whether after your study session or maybe as a tiny break in between chapters or maybe “we just don’t even need to study because you seemed like you understood things well enough when you were here well… yesterday.”

“So I mean basically all this problem is about is supply and demand. There’s a lot of red herrings here that they’re trying to distract you with. Can you tell me what the product is and the initial supply and demand relationship? Before the market change?” You’re busy looking over the word problem trying to figure out how to step Jack through it next. But he’s taking an unusually long time to answer your question. You turn to look at him. Jack seems lost, but about what you’re not sure.

“Isn’t that a fish? A red herring?” He asks. You can’t help but sigh that THAT is all he decided to selectively hear from your initial question.

“Yes, Hughesy, but it’s also an expression that means a piece of information that is distracting from the main point. Kind of like what you’re doing right now.” The second part you mutter under your breath though and turn back to the book. More silence.

“...I’ve caught a tuna once, y'know.”

“Jack! Focus!” Your chastising facade is easily disintegrated by an accompanying giggle. Jack looks satisfied, a little grin on his face that matches yours. Always the class clown. He’s more than happy he got you to smile and stop your tutor act. Though he doesn’t like how you sigh in slight frustration while setting your pencil down. He reaches a hand out to touch your thigh. The gesture makes you shiver.

“Hey I’m sorry. I think I understand it already though, there was a really similar practice problem I did before hockey today.” His soothing tone is matched by the gentle movements of his thumb on your skin. It takes you a moment to really hear what he said but then you smile.

“You did practice problems today? Before practice? Without me assigning them to you?” You’re almost bashful when you ask, finally catching him in a moment of softness that you adored so much. It doesn’t go unnoticed by a blushing Jack either.

“Yeah I did. I don’t wanna look totally stupid when we study y’know.” It’s sassy as always. You can hear the vulnerability though, you know him too well now. His expression morphs into more of a smirk, one side of his lips pinned higher up than the other. Jack reaches out his unoccupied hand to toy with a piece of your hair before slipping it behind your ear. “Was also hoping we could spend some time doing something else if I already understood the chapter.” His voice is a few steps lower and his eyes have already drawn more hooded as he looks you over. He’s trying to find the answer in your eyes. You fight an inner battle between what’s in your pants and what’s in your head.

On one hand the past couple days of fooling around had been amazing but rationally you know this can’t end up being good for your tutoring situation. So do you give up or give in? As much as you wish the personal turmoil to be more prolonged, you think you already made up your mind how today would end when you first let Jack into your apartment looking so good in that backwards hat and flannel combo. You want him. He’s only empowering you with the way he’s running his hungry eyes over you. Fuck it. Professional tutoring and casual sex could both coexist right? Even so, you know the clench in your heart wasn’t from nerves but a clairvoyant reaction to how knotted this web would end up.

In an attempt to stamp down the thought, you surge forward to kiss Jack. He’s ready to meet your lips, catching you in a soft but intent kiss. It’s only an extended moment before you pull away. His lips chase yours and the smirk that used to be on his face is now transferred to yours. You stand up.

“You coming?” It’s a rhetorical question tossed over your shoulder on your way to your bedroom. No chance in hell he wouldn’t follow.

“Not right now Y/N geez. I can last at least 20 minutes, you know that.” Jack is quick to joke, wrapping his arms around you from behind and waddling as a pair toward your room.

“Eww Hughes, I hate you.” You can’t help but laugh. His lips find their way to your neck and you can feel his smile.

“Shh I bet you won’t be saying that in 19 minutes and 55 seconds, pretty.”

Jack was so gentle, he took his time to learn your body and constantly praise you for being so good for him. And after he learned you, you learned him, how he was rougher after games and always enjoyed a sneaky bout of morning sex. You never bothered to ask if he was seeing other girls too and frankly didn’t want to pain yourself with the thought. While Jack was with you, he was yours and that was enough.

Things were sticky from the get go. He’d always linger to ensure some pillow talk and maybe make you giggle a few times before he felt truly satiated. There were even times he’d come over after a tough loss and just follow you into the shower where you’d wash his body and let him hold you tenderly as long as he needed. Jack would bring you coffee when he knew you’d had an 8am and ask about how your sibling was doing. If you were really honest with yourself, you’d felt those butterflies and that childlike glee to just be in his company from that third week when you’d asked him to come early for coffee. Call it self destruction but knowing you could have him like this, however, taboo and hush hush it is, is better than what you were before when he didn’t even know you existed and what you might’ve been if he’d picked you as just another one of his conquests.

---

Jack's POV

The boys are already raging by the time Jack rolls up with John and Dawson. ‘It’s a weekend tradition,’ they say, to have a house party whenever they don’t have a Saturday game, since those occasions are so sparse. Obviously in between these off weekends are normal parties but those are much more lowkey. Normally, he’d be down but they haven’t had one of these full on ragers in like a month and a lot has happened in the last month.

Jack really wishes you could be here, or that he didn’t have to be… your bed is so comfy. But it’s more than her god damn bed. From day one you never patronized him or made him feel stupid for not understanding fucking econ 102. You were entirely what Jack wasn’t looking for but desperately needed at just the right time. Some stability, a person separate from the rink. Trustworthy, someone who didn’t get to know him just for hockey. You’re smart and fuck… so gorgeous. It was really intimidating at first, trying to understand something he didn’t give a rat’s ass about while a pretty girl who didn’t know how pretty she was looked at him through her big glasses. After a while it wasn’t intimidating any more, just so god damn distracting. Always getting him coffee, doing things to make his life easier, hugging Jack so tight when he’d come and go.

If he was honest he’d been hoping to get into bed with you from like the second week, but he knew you weren’t that type of girl, the type he normally would take home for one night and one night only. He’d known you were different and he wanted that; he wanted you. And for more than just a single fuck. So he’d waited. You were so gentle with him and Jack swears it’d felt like he’d just smoked a whole j by myself when you kissed him finally. At least he thinks it was you that kissed him first… Maybe Jack had actually smoked a whole j before coming over, you made him so fucking nervous at first. Not anymore though. Now you just make him smile and laugh and feel warm.

He seems like a fucking simp which would be fine if he and you weren’t in the trenches of no man’s land right now. He doesn't really do this type of thing, the whole relationship thing. But he does want that with you, he just doesn't know how and he doesn't know if you want him too. Jack’s always worried you might see him as just his reputation. He’s worried you won’t be able to trust him not to hurt you. But you don’t hurt the people you love.

Every moment you’re not with him he feels like he’s looking for you (like right now) and that’s because time spent with you doing nothing is always better than time spent without you. Jack’s so fucking into you it hurts and drives him a little crazy but he’d rather stay in between than lose you completely.

“Holy fuck did you hear a word of that Hughes?” Nico shakes Jack’s shoulder and he knows he’s been caught in his daze. He tries to recover from looking like an absolute space cadet.

“Nah dude I’m never usually listening when you talk, haven’t you noticed?” This causes some chuckles and a punch to the shoulder from Nico, but he smiles at Jack anyway. “We getting some drinks here or what boys?” He asks, trying to push the conversation away from his la la land behavior. The group moves en masse toward the open bar that one of their other teammates set up. Jack doesn't escape the attention for long though.

“Haven’t seen you pick anyone up in a while? Something wrong with the little guy?” John chirps, giving Jack a crotch punch. Miles laughs so hard from over the shot glasses he spills some of the Tito’s he was pouring out.

“Fuck off John no. Just haven’t been feeling like a random fuck lately.” Jack scratches the back of his neck for once hating all the fucking eyes on him.

“Haven’t been feeling like it? Has hell frozen over?” Nico absolutely refuses to let it go. Jack doesn't even know what to say so he just turns and glares at him reaching for a filled shot glass. He tosses it back.

“Is this a fucking party or what boys? I’m not the only one drinking, am I?” The boys take the bait and soon Jack’s the least important of their thoughts as much as they’re the least important of his.

The arena is buzzing. Home game against MSU with 14 seconds left in the period. They’re tied 3-3. And he’s sweating his balls off. Absolutely gassed. Jack puts his hand up for Ian to throw him a towel, quickly popping his cage open and wiping off his forehead. Jack takes the opportunity to look over at the MSU bench. Their coach has a whiteboard out drawing up a play to score since they’ve got an o-zone faceoff. Coach Naurato just told them to break up whatever play MSU was planning. Very helpful.

Jack’s mind starts to wander a bit, wondering if you’re seated somewhere in the student section. He knows you come to games but didn’t ask about this one; he’d forgotten the last time you-- erm “hung out.”

The refs’ whistle luckily refocuses Jack’s mind back on the game. It’s go time. An icing meant he was back out there with the boys for this crucial moment. They had to stretch things to OT. No way was MSU scoring.

He takes his position at the edge of the circle, to the left of his tendie. As soon as the puck drops Jack feels like he’s in slow motion. He moves hard out on the point searching for a loose puck or being ready to pry one loose. MSU’s centerman raked the puck back but Jack gets to it first skating as fast as he fucking can out of the pile. He’s moving despite his screaming legs, the lactic acid being almost too much to bear.

He sees he’s got one of his liney’s to the left but has to get around the MSU defender first. Jack goes for a little chip play, which surprisingly gets around the d-man, despite his good gap. Jack’s in disbelief at this point, skating for his goddamn life; he could win this game for them.

The MSU goalie is being aggressive, creeping out of his crease to make himself bigger. But Jack’s still got his guy. A quick passing play and Jack re-receives the puck, psyching out the goalie just enough to find some space and sneak the puck in backdoor. Score.

Jack blacks out. Completely unsure what to do with himself, he starts frantically skating around the rim of the rink, arms up in the air as his teammates mob him against the glass. He’s fully screaming. He can feel the whole arena rumbling around him going absolutely nuts. Jack swears he’s never been happier than in this moment. They’ve won the game 4-3.

----

He’s out of press as quickly as possible. It’s not very extensive for D1 hockey players but there were still a few questions for the game winning goal scorer. Jack is still pumped full of adrenaline, hands practically shaking he’s so hyped up. He can think of only one person he wants to see right now, elevated testosterone sending his brain into a primal state.

“I’m coming over.” He texts. He’s never been so forward before, but his dumb boy brain can only think about one thing. For a split second Jack considers sending a follow up to ease the pushiness but he decides against it, shoving his phone in his dress pants pocket and making haste toward your apartment.

He knocks at the door shifting impatiently, annoyed by an incessant itch he knows only you can scratch. You pull open the door and are suddenly standing in front of him; Michigan hoodie covering your frame and smooth legs exposed by a pair of sweatshorts. You seem a little shy unlike usual but still smile at Jack. Damn, has she always been this pretty? His lust works to heighten his senses.

Jack is swift, grabbing you and pulling you up around his waist. His hands fall greedily to your ass supporting you but also trying to relieve some of the tension in him by copping a feel. You’re feverish when you bring his lips to yours for a fiery kiss. There’s nothing innocent about it. His feet begin to move you both subconsciously toward your room as you make out with a fervor. The smell of your perfume swirls around him and fills his nose, fueling his lustful delirium further. You’re putty in his hands, arching generously into him, gasping wantonly for his kiss. Jack kisses you again and again even after breaking away until you can’t take anymore of the Dyonisian exchange.

“Please--” Your plea is clipped and breathy. You’re not even sure if at first you know exactly what you’re asking for. But Jack hears you. He feels the way your body is screaming, vibrating electrically at his display. It strokes his ego in just the way his caveman mind needed.

“Yeah? You need me baby? Saw me score and now you need me to fuck you?” Jack’s almost taunting, his voice a few steps lower than usual. You feel no shame in giving into his provocation. You nod hastily, begging with your eyes rather than your words. Jack smirks, setting you on the floor of your room before backing himself toward the bed. He sits down, hands going behind him so he can lean back on his arms. He looks so cocky but still so sexy. Jack raises his eyebrows looking you over from where you stand stiffly before him.

“Well? On your knees baby, show me you deserve to be fucked.” He spits, making no move to do any of the work. You stumble forward, dropping to the floor in front of him and reaching greedily for his belt buckle. “There’s my good girl. Gonna let me fuck your throat sweetheart?” It’s condescending but it makes your stomach flutter. You love when he’s dominant. You wrestle his belt buckle open, beginning to tug on his dress pants. When you look up at him with doe eyes, pleading for him to do as he pleases with you, you see his smug smile.

“Yeah ‘course you are. Always such a slut for me.”

It all gets a little blurry after that first shot. Suddenly, he doesn’t remember a damn thing. Until Jack sees you.

---

Y/N POV

You think it’s part of your dream at first, the incessant buzzing. But it’s coming from a flower in the garden and that doesn’t seem quite right… it’s still another fews rings before you fully flutter your eyes open. Still in a daze from sleep inertia, you reach blindly for your phone, holding it to what you think is your ear, and answering the call.

“H-hello?” You croak out, coughing almost immediately. The response on the other line is slow and you nearly fall back asleep in the second it takes them to speak.

“Hi umm sorry is-- is this Y/N?” Even in your haze you know that it’s weird that someone who’s calling you at the ass crack of morning isn’t sure of the name of the person they’re calling. It’s then you manage to sit up and pull your phone away from your ear to look at the caller ID. ‘Jacky Hughes.’ You’re even more confused now, because that voice certainly isn’t Jack and how the fuck does someone have his phone and why the fuck are they calling you?

“Uhhhhh yeah but who are you? Why do you have Jack’s phone?” You ask. The response is quicker this time.

“Shit sorry-- fuck this is John I’m buddies with Jack. Ummm we’re at the hockey house right now having a party but Jack is wasted and he just-- he kept asking for Y/N. ‘Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, where is she? I miss her. I miss my girl. Why isn’t she here?’ Really sappy shit and I mean none of the boys knew he had a girl so we’re like ‘Jack what the fuck are you saying man’ and he won’t explain he just keeps going on and on blah blah about Y/N. So we grab his phone right, and go through his contacts and look for a ‘Y/N’ and ta da, you’re the only one in there so we figured it had to be you he was talking about. Anyway, can you come get him? He's, like, totally plastered right now.”

‘John’ as he calls himself, is “like totally plastered right now” also, based on that rambly explanation. But really you don’t need any more convincing to drop what you’re doing (more like weren’t doing) and go to pick up a drunk Jack.

“Yeah… yeah I’ll come now just uhh drop me a pin or something.” You barely wait for John to answer before ending the call to slip on some shoes, a hoodie, and grab your keys. As you lock your door on the way out, a text comes in with a location just like you asked for.

You’d never been to the hockey house before but fuck it wasn’t hard to miss at this hour. Pretty multi color lights can be seen changing color inside and while the noise wasn’t atrocious it was certainly obvious. You risk it with double parking despite your nagging anxiety as it’s 3am and you don’t have time to find legal parking. You begin to tread up toward the porch but don’t have to go too far before your night vision fixes on a scene that makes you smile.

Jack is sitting on the grass with his back against a tree mumbling incoherently, from the distance you’re at. There’s a few boys with him: some on the grass as well, one swinging on an epic rope swing tied from the tree and another just standing with his arms crossed. As you get closer you can make out Jack’s pouty face and loose limbs. The boy standing looks rather paternal as he monitors your toddler of a boyf-- erm.. friend. Thankfully, you don’t have to announce your presence as said paternal man notices you walking up.

“Hey are you uh-- Y/N was it?” He calls out. You nod but before you can speak Jack opens his big mouth just as you come to a stop in front of the group.

“Aww Y/N she’s so pretty y’know-- wait you said she was coming, where is she Nico?” You look to see if Jack’s just suddenly lost all competency but notice that his eyes are closed. Your fond smile is involuntary. By now the rest of the belligerent boys have noticed your presence and are prodding at Jack saying ‘bro she is here’ ‘you’re so stupid Hughes’ and ‘oh my god dude.’

“Shhhh my head hurts be quiet you dumb fucks.” Jack chastises through a rather endearing hiccup. You move directly in front of Jack now, sinking into a squat to be almost eye level with him. Well you would be if he’d open his fucking eyes.

“Hey Jacky…” You call gently, placing your hand over his knee. He shifts only slightly.

“Only Y/N calls me that.” Jack whines, a lilt of sadness to his voice. Some of the boys have started laughing, egging him on while Nico just swears under his breath. Jack’s childishness makes you giggle.

“Open your eyes dumbass.” You add now, squeezing his knee and giggling still. Jack furrows his brow and shakes his head side to side.

“Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can still hear her voice.” You’re fully laughing now, heart bursting with affection for this drunken fool. The Greek chorus opens their big mouths some more, fully ragging on Jack now: ‘Are you fucking serious bro’ and ‘Hughesy you idiot.’

The wheels seem to start turning, granted at a glacial pace, from all the berating. Jack shakes his head and you pat his leg encouragingly, his pretty eyes finally opening. When your eyes meet, he gasps comically loud and breaks into a beaming grin. It makes you feel even weaker for him.

“Oh my god, Y/N!!” He lifts an arm and starts flinging his hand about trying to find your face, to touch part of your body. You think he wants to hold your cheek but you’d rather he didn’t slap you in the face in the process. Gently you pick up his hand and rest your face against it.

“Hi stud.” You murmur at him, and even though he’s so inebriated that he doesn’t have control of his limbs, his thumb somehow begins to stroke your cheek. His head lulls to the side like a love sick puppy and he marvels at you with his starry gaze. He fish mouths for a moment before finding his words.

“Is this a dream? Y’know I’m spinning so fucking bad right now I can see about three Y/N’s and that honestly sounds like fucking heaven to me. Must be a dream…” Jack mutters, almost to himself.

“Sorry to disappoint but I’m as real as that econ test you have on Monday Jacky. Glad to see you’re spending your weekend wisely.” The boys around you can’t help but chuckle at your rather mom-ish chirp. A few ‘gottems’ can be heard. Despite the roasting, it appears that Jack couldn’t care less. A delighted gasp leaves his lips and a sunshine-y smile rises on his lips.

“Oh my god it IS you! I told Nico I wanted you to come get me and here you are! Will you take me home? Home to your’s? John’s being mean and Dawson isn’t as pretty as you.” He pouts as he says all this, making your heart clench. Home, he said. Your place. You’re already nodding without realizing. And if you lean forward to press a kiss to his cheek, it’s involuntary too.

“Yeah hun let’s go. I’ve got Welch’s in the car and a Ziploc bag with your name on it.” Your fingers run through his hair to soothe him just how you’ve learned to when he’s sober. You think he makes a move to stand and get his feet under himself but that battle is short lived. His ass stays firmly planted on the ground.

“Geez Hughes here let’s go buddy. We got ya… yup there we go.” His friends are quick to claim limbs and hoist the 180 pound gentle giant off the dirt. You thank them and point out your car. Jack’s head lulls backwards so that he can still look at you even while he’s being carted off to your vehicle. The giddy smile doesn’t seem to leave his face.

“What are you guys?” The abruptness catches you off guard and shatters your daydreaming. You turn to find Nico, the most sober of the group and the ringleader it seems.

“Huh? Oh umm-- we… we hook up I guess. Yea…” You stutter badly but this is your first time talking about your situation with Jack out loud. It’ll have to do.

“Hook up... like... repeatedly? No, sorry, I mean like, he comes back to you or-- fuck I’m tryna say like he-- he doesn’t-- you’re not a fuck and chuck?” You’re at least grateful Nico is lacking some eloquence as well right now. Still, you’re unsure how to go on. You laugh awkwardly.

“No-- or wait I mean yeah? We’ve uhh yeah been hooking up for a couple months or three I think now. I was asked to tutor him in econ at the start of the semester.” Nico looks shocked but you watch as his face morphs in accordance with the wheels turning up top. He smiles all of a sudden.

“Well fuck me. He said he had a pretty study buddy so I guess that’s why he’s been so MIA. Probably should’ve put that one together sooner.” Nico laughs at his blatant idiocy. You smile and shrug not really knowing what to say. He hasn’t really said anything that you can respond to.

“He doesn’t even eat when he gets back most of the time. If he gets back at all obviously.” You blush at the implication as he continues to glue the pieces together in his head.

“Yeah we usually cook together or order something.” Your admittance is bashful. You kick some rocks with your shoes as you continue walking behind the carrying party toward your car.

“Wow. I’m shocked really. I mean I’ve never seen him or heard of him spending this much time with a girl before. You must be special.”

You must be special.

It’s what you’ve been wanting to hear for months now, just from the wrong person.

“Y/NNNNN!” Jack whines from the passenger's seat of your car where he’s been deposited haphazardly, albeit in one piece. You roll your eyes affectionately, walking around towards him.

“Thanks boys. ‘Preciate it.” You smile at the group, shifting your weight awkwardly between both feet. John breaks the silence.

“Tell him to bring you around sometime. We wanna meet you for real. Seems like he really likes you.”

Seems like he really likes you.

“Sure thing. Thanks again.” You smile and offer a small laugh and wave. Quickly you look down to your boy-- no, Jack, and see him staring at you.

“I told them that.” He mumbles drowsily.

“Told ‘em what bub?” You ask leaning over him to buckle his seatbelt and push all arms and legs inside the vehicle.

“That I really like you.”

I really like you.

You pause for a moment, looking him over warily, heart fluttering. He’s smiling at you just as genuinely as he normally would when sober. It’s calming for the moment and inclines you to believe him even in his drunken state. Despite how desperately you want him to sober up so you can hear the real truth, your nervous stomach accepts his admittance for the time being. You smile back at him and bend to kiss him on the lips. It’s just a peck but satiates the boy fully. He giggles gleefully when you pull away and meet his eyes again.

“Alright Jacky hun, let’s get you home.”

------

After waking up at 2 in the morning to collect a 5'11” drunken idiot, you’d think he’d have the decency to let you sleep in. Wishful thinking apparently.

“Y/N… Y/N! Wake up please!” Though Jack’s being gentle he’s still shaking you awake, a rather jarring way to come around. You groan loudly, letting him know how exasperated you’re feeling. Your hands reach blindly to push him away from you. Jack’s even more stubborn than you are though. “Please baby, I needa talk to you.” He’s gentler this time, leaning down to kiss your neck and rub at your side. The coaxing works wonders in getting you to peak an eye open.

Jack looks adorable really. Soft hair flopping into his face and some dark blue bags under his eyes. He’s wearing a soft smile and the look in his eyes is one of adoration. It almost melts away your annoyance. Almost.

“Jacky, what do you want? Are you still drunk? Why the fuck did you wake me up?” You whine. He just continues to look at you gently. He bends to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Hi gorgeous, I’m sorry. I-- I had to wake you up because well I blacked out last night which you obviously saw, but I woke up from my blackout when you were sitting in front of me smiling and telling me I was an idiot for not studying for our econ test. And I couldn’t wait another hour or more for you to wake up. I needed to tell you now that-- that I remember what I said and it was true. I like you, I really do. I’m so fucking into you it’s a little stupid and I’m tired of all this in between bullshit. I’ve wanted to be with you from like the second week we studied together and I don’t just wanna have sex anymore-- I mean don’t get me wrong it’s great and I would very much like to continue having sex with you but umm what I mean is I wanna introduce you to my friends and brag about you to them. About how my girl is so smart and funny and sexy and that she makes me laugh and fuck I’d ditch boys night for you because I like you that much. You make me feel so happy and safe. I love being around you no matter what we’re doing and I want you to be around me all the time. And I think I know that I’m not one sided in feeling this because I don’t think anyone could endure the pain of being so close to a couple but not actually being official unless they would give up the world for that person and well… I would, I would give up the world for you and I hope that-- okay well that’s a lot to ask that you’d give up the world for me back but I hope that you at least like me too. Please tell me you do cause I’m so into you babe and I want it all with you. Late nights and early mornings… the fights and the love… the future. I’m not scared of losing you from saying how I feel because I’ve been yours for months now, so what’d you say? Be mine?”

It’s almost too much all at once. You’re so tired and delirious and here’s this soft looking boy holding you in bed under the sheets, fingers dancing along your waist while he stares into your eyes and bares his soul to you. He had you at ‘I like you’ because it’s all you’ve been wanting to hear for months. Everything else was just sweet fluff that you more than loved but didn’t even need to hear make your decision. He says he’s been yours for months now but what he doesn’t realize is you’ve been his for just as long. And yeah, you’d give up the world for him too. All there’s left to say is yes.

You giggle at him pulling him down for a soft kiss. It’s a vessel for your emotion. An outpouring of love and devotion. You want him to feel that your actions mirror his words.

“Of course, Jack. I’m yours if you’re mine.” He beams down at you, smiling so wholly you think his face might get permanently stuck like that. He buries his face in your neck kissing you there.

“Thank god.” He sighs. “I know I sounded all confident but I was still kinda shitting it that I might’ve had it all wrong there.”

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #new jersey devils #new jersey devils hockey #njd #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nico hischier #quinn hughes #luke hughes #john marino #dawson mercer #so sorry but tagging for visibility <3 #my writing

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