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luveline · 7 months

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hellooo!! im not sure if your requests are open so feel free to ignore this but i was wondering if you could write for tasm!peter where the reader just got her wisdom teeth removed and she’s all loopy on anesthetics and forgets peter is her boyfriend? i saw this video where this girl got her wisdom teeth pulled and forgot she was dating her boyfriend and fell in love with him all over again😭😭

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPR7sGQo5/

thank you for your request! ♡ fem, 1k

"Here she is," the nurse says gently, walking you out with his arm behind your back. "Alright, say hi to Peter."

"Hi, Peter," you mumble, eyes on the floor.

Peter grins at you, worry warm at the back of his throat. "Hey. Is that everything?" he asks, nodding at the nurses paper bag of aftercare.

"Everything you'll need." The nurse helps Peter take over, hoisting your arm over his shoulders before stepping away. "Alright, feel better, okay? And don't hesitate to call if something comes up. We're here to look after you."

You seem appreciative in your fog, but it's hard to tell. Peter curls his arm around your hip and gives it a soft rub as he leads you to the stairs. Whoever devised the floor plan here had murder on their mind —the second floor is completely inaccessible. Luckily, Peter has a lot of strength at his disposal.

You can feel it. "Woh, you're strong," you murmur.

"You know that already." His grip on you tightens, pretty much carrying you down the tight staircase.

"Do I?" you ask. You make a sound like you're hurting, a squeak.

"I'd hope so." At the end of the staircase, he sits you down, worried you're not feeling well. "You okay? I can princess carry you if you need me to."

You look at him with wide eyes. He turns to check there's no one standing behind him, but you're really looking at him. "What?" he asks, touching your knee, imploring. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"You're Peter?" you ask.

Ah, the amnesiac effect of anaesthetic. His touch turns comforting, stroking your thigh with as much care as he can drive into his palm alone. "That's me. Hey, if you're forgetting me, does that mean you're not mad at me for last Friday anymore? 'Cos I know you said you forgive me but I can tell it still pisses you off–"

Your eyes fall to his hand. "Why would I be mad at you?" you ask.

"I finished the milk and put the carton back in the fridge, even though I promised I'd stop doing it. You see the jug and think there's milk left. We were gonna have macaroni and cheese..." He nudges your fingers with his. "Are you okay? You don't look like yourself."

"What do I usually look like?"

"Not so, you know. Daunted."

"You're really handsome," you whisper, refusing to meet his eye.

"Oh, you think so?"

You nod like your head is too heavy. You're embarrassed, you sweetheart, oh my god Peter could cry into your lap.

"Let's get you to the car, baby."

"Where are we going?" The gauze gives you the world's most adorable lisp, and it turns your gasp into a hum as Peter stands you up.

"Home."

"Together?"

"Yeah, we live together. It's a nice place, and you're a great decorator, you know? It's cozy."

"Thank you," you say shyly.

You're not not shy with him, but it's been a long time since you got so quiet over a practically innocuous comment. He wants to see how you'll react to real compliments, over the top stuff that he one hundred percent means. It's a little mean, but when will you ever be like this again?

He helps you out past the desk and onto the street to your car where it's parked a half a block down. "Don't worry about all this, okay? I'm gonna take such good care of you, sweetheart. There's an ice pack and a brand new comforter with your name on it waiting at home." Peter smiles at your starry eyes as they flash to his, amazed at his simple plans. "How does that sound, beautiful? Is there anything you want before we head home? Anything that would make you feel better?"

"You're gonna take care of me?" you ask breathlessly.

"That's my job. That's my number one boyfriend duty."

"You're my boyfriend?"

"I am!" he says happily, laughing as he speaks. "For a while. I've been trying to take things further but you're always really shy about getting married–"

"You want to get married? To me?"

Peter presses a soft kiss to your cheek. "You're the only person I'd ever want to get married to. We already picked the flowers–"

"We did?"

He laughs again, all your questions. He loves regular you but loopy you is especially endearing. "Last time I got super drunk, yeah. You never let me forget it."

"So you love me?" you ask, stopping short.

"I love you so much," he says immediately, hugging you into his side. He dots another kiss against the top of your head. "You should remember that even if you don't remember me."

"I love you," you say quietly.

Peter doesn't know if that's your memory returning, or if you've fallen in love with him in the last fifteen minutes. He could easily fall in love with you that quickly, and yet he's still amazed at your confession.

"That's good. That's great. Thank you, sweetheart," he says, desperate to hold your face in his hands but weary of causing you future pain. "There's your car," —he points, lowering his head to yours to make sure you can see it, hand now protectively held between your shoulder blades— "let's go home now. Yeah?"

You start walking again at his requests. He can pretty much see the steam rising off of your face, giddy with happiness at these revelations. You're together, you're in love, and you think he's handsome. He wonders what you'll have to say about his biceps in this state of delirium; you go crazy for his arms sober.

Which reminds him.

"I totally have another secret to tell you," he says, unlocking the car as you approach and helping you into the passenger seat.

"What is it?" you ask.

Peter closes you in and skirts around the door, climbing into the driver's seat. He's glad that New York is as ridiculously loud as ever, because not even the closed doors or your sodden gauze can smother the way you shriek.

"My boyfriend is Spider-Man?!"

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seattlesellie · 1 month

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dads best friend!abby scenario cause why the hell not.

cw: sexual themes mdni, age gap, abby’s a cocky but charming asshole, power dynamics-ish? : ・ෆ・┈・┈・ᕱ⑅ᕱ・┈・┈・ෆ・ :

— "Oh and honey? Doctor Anderson's coming over for dinner" Everything felt oppressively hot and everything felt impossibly tight. The food seared your tongue, humid steam rising from the vegetables on your plate causing your throat to constrict and your eyes to sting with tears. Your right hand was clenched in a tight fist, left hand gripping your fork like it might grow legs and run away if you let go of your grasp. Your tights were itching relentlessly, tank top strap kept sliding off of your shoulder and built itself a home down your arm. Your lipgloss felt too sticky and your palms too clammy, you felt agitated, uncomfortable and way too goddamn nervous.

You felt consumed.

You didn’t know why.

Sure, Doctor Anderson was attractive, with palms twice bigger than yours. She wore a tight fitted muscle tee that had you squinting then turning your head around fast enough to crack your neck, noticing a goddamn six pack poking through maroon fabric. And yeah, she had an intoxicating scent of pine and wood and a hint of pepper that made your eyes nearly roll back inside of your skull, voice silky smooth, thighs firm and muscular, eyes icy blue, a smile that made you melt and all that stupid jazz,

but none of these things were a good enough explanation to why you were feeling this way — dazed, stupid, all bothered.

She sat down on the dinner table’s leather chair in a manspread as if she owned the place, and her thighs bulked up even more, veins of her arms becoming more prominent. She always knew what to say, and when you cracked a joke about orthopedic surgeons she cheekily told you to “watch it” — which made you thickly gulp and sheepishly smile down to the floor like your idol from age thirteen just told you they want to marry you and have you forever.

You needed an ice bath, but she also wouldn’t stop goddamn looking at you, even when you made it clear that eye contact with the surgeon, your father’s best friend, was a task that you apparently couldn’t manage to complete.

Her look made you nervous, and when she narrowed her eyes you nearly choked on a carrot, and when your father asked you “What’s wrong, kid?” you couldn’t even answer because what was wrong — was that you had to cross your legs together cause of some aching down there, and what was wrong is that his best friend made you feel like you were losing your mind at 9pm with a fork glued to your palm.

So you lied.

“M’just... tired, I guess” you murmured, then fake yawned, then internally cringed at yourself for performing the worlds fakest goddamn yawn.

“Already?” he voiced, shifting his gaze towards a visibly amused Abby. “Quite the night owl, that one... usually”

"What can I say, dad, loooong day" answered you, with a syrupy voice she wanted to stick her fingers inside and lick.

Abby chuckled, then smirked at you even though the response wasn’t directed at her. Then, she looked over to your father who was gnawing on some overcooked steak.

“She’s a kid, needs to get her sleep”

You scoffed, which made doctor Anderson poke the inside of her cheek with her tongue. “What...?” she murmured cockily, cracking a toothy grin. Your tights felt tight again, glued to your hot flesh, then you realized why they fucking call them tights because dammit they really are tight.

“I'm not a kid, can, y’know... drink, and stuff. Plus... M'busy, with... College"

You sounded like a damn idiot. All Abby did was chuckle and tilt her head back slightly, leaning further back in her chair.

“T'aw, I know, What'ryou studying again? Fashion science?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. That bitch.

"Sorry I don't wanna go to medical school and spend seven years of my life sticking my hands down a corpse"

So you didn’t go to your room after that, caught up in a whirlwind of proving a point. You stayed stubbornly with your feet glued to the floor and listened to Abby and your father ramble and yap on about work shenanigans. Usually, you’d semi doze off at this point, go on your phone and occasionally throw a snarky remark, but this was different. She was different than any of his other friends. Abby was actually funny, she didn’t brag too much, and if she did it faded quick cause she really was that good.

Abby threw a reference to a book you thought no one else had read except for you. You timidly lifted your gaze and remarked, “Oh, i read that book, actually”

Abby smiled and flattened her hands on the wooden table. “Smart cookie, huh? Did you like it?”

You batted your eyelashes like a kitten seeking more strokes at the praise, not noticing that body language of yours.

But she did.

You talked about the book for a solid ten minutes. Your father was the one, surprisingly, to go on his phone and faux-snort when he felt excluded from the conversation ran by two intellectuals and a giant elephant who goes by the name of "Tension", in the middle of the room.

Abby made you laugh and she made you think and she listened to your anecdotes. It made you buzz with electricity, and it made you yearn for her attention.

it also made her long for yours.

Your father interrupted by showing Abby a picture from work. When her eyes lowered to his phone, she shot you a lingering gaze and a smirk. You, feeling a rush of heat to your cheeks, shyly looked away.

It was tight everywhere all over again.

So they talked more about work, Abby’s patients, their coworkers, Doctor Martha’s chicken pot pie, Doctor Johnson’s bizarre antics, the glass door no one bothered on calling to be fixed, blah blah blah, an endless stream of chatter.

And you listened, you listened with rapt attention, every ounce of your focus aimed at the prospect of another one-on-one conversation with Abby. Each time the older woman casted you with a quick glance, you flushed even harder. You waited, and waited and waited but your father was a blabber mouth, and you were oh so impatient,

you began mindlessly kicking the wooden table's legs.

Your sock-covered feet shifted restlessly from side to side, then you tucked them beneath your chair and resumed kicking, the movements gaining force. You curled your toes and continued to play with the table's handles. Abby winced, but you didn’t pay her any mind. You kicked again, with more force now.

You sighed.

Abby cleared her throat, and her cheeks suddenly bore a faint crimson blush. You couldn't help but notice, hm, must be the red wine finally catching on to her form. Ignoring, you kicked again, and the doctors back straightened and she stiffened in response. Your father asked her a question, and Abby… stammered.

“Yeah, that guys… uh— yeah”

You rested your chin on your hands and lightly tapped your fingertips against your cheeks thrice.

Then you kicked again, harder, you were bored and restless, waiting, give me some attention, Abby —

And then, you felt a pair of shoes encase your feet, ankles creating a cage around yours. It was then and only then that you had the startling realization: you hadn't been kicking the table at all. Instead, you had been unknowingly engaged in a game of footsies beneath the table with a goddamn world class surgeon.

And oh god did you want to die.

And oh god did abby sport a shit eating grin on her face that only you seemed to catch.

You froze, not even able to release your feet from her iron like grip. Unmistakably, she didn’t seem to release her grip either. So she kept them there, caged and locked.

“Alright,” your father sighed and cleared his throat. “Got some cuban cigars in the yard, shall we?” he gestured towards Abby, who was still holding your feet in her tight grasp.

“Yeah, go ‘head, I’ll just clear the table” she murmured absentmindedly. So kind and polite, huh?

You father chuckled and tapped abby on her shoulder, as he rose from his sit and straightened his back. “Nah, let the kid handle it”

Abby shot you a glance. Your pupils were dilated and your chest heaved rapidly up and down.

“She's not a kid, remember?”

Abby let go of your feet and you rose from the chair with such haste, you nearly had whiplash. When you lifted your plate, staying mute, looking like a deer caught in headlights as your father paced towards the yard, Abby gazed at you, and her eyebrow arched up in utter amusement.

“You uh, play soccer, by any chance?” quipped her, crossing her arms on her firm hard muscly chest.

You gulped.

“Huh?”

Abby lifted her wine glass to her lips, taking a sip that left a glistening sheen on her bottom lip. A chuckle escaped her.

“Jus’, y’know… with all the kicking, and everything. I mean, take a girl out for a drink before you do all that, yeah?”

You stood in shock, you didn’t speak, didn’t mutter a word, merely humming in response. Abby grabbed the plates from your hand, and then she grabbed the salt.

She furrowed her eyebrows and huffed. “M'just ’joking, smart cookie. If you wanna play, let's play"

Then you heard your father’s voice down the hall.

“Sweetheart?” he paced closer as Abby walked towards the sink. He leaned over the wall,

“forgot to mention it to you but, Abby’s staying over for the weekend”

#abby anderson fanfiction #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby smut #abby anderson x you #abby anderson drabble #dbf!abby #doctor!abby #abby anderson fic #abby anderson #tlou2 fic

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miclipse · 1 month

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˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ YOUR ROMAN EMPIRE.

characters: isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, kunigami rensuke, itoshi rin, michael kaiser (separate).

sypnosis: things he did that you often think about.

word count: 5.3k (~1.0k each)

cw: afab! reader, sfw, established relationships, nicknames used (baby, gorgeous, meine liebe, good girl, pretty girl), pre-wildcard! kunigami, mentions of period (rin's), kaiser being a smug bastard & also soft.

note: first time writing for the blue lock boys <3 comments appreciated!

ᯓ★ isagi yoichi ᝰ.ᐟ

“does it still hurt alot, baby?”

isagi, who was kneeled in front of you as you sat on the couch, continued pressing the ice pack against your swollen ankle.

his other hand was supporting the heel of your foot as he gently rotated it in circular motions to help ease the pain in the muscles.

your boyfriend lifted his head up to take a look at your expression, worried that the pain of your sprained ankle might be too unbearable for you if he didn't handle it carefully enough.

“a little… but it's getting better…” you mumbled out softly, feeling increasingly guilty the longer you watched isagi kneel in front of you and tend to what you could only call the consequences of your own actions.

“we have a treadmill at home for a reason. why'd you insist on taking a run outside when the ground was still all slippery and wet?” isagi's voice was soft and gentle, soothing the guilt in your heart slightly.

you thought isagi would've gotten mad at you, but he was still as loving and worried for you as ever despite all of this being your own fault.

it had rained earlier this morning, which isagi had already warned you about via text since he was away for his usual soccer practice.

but stubborn little you insisted that the rain would not interfere with your routine evening jog. you figured the damp floors would have dried up by the time you stepped out of the house.

oh, how very wrong you were.

in your defence, majority of the jog went smoothly. the problem only arose when you were about to make the final turn back to the familiar stretch of road that would lead back to your and isagi's shared apartment.

for some reason while you were turning the corner, your foot slipped. as an attempt to catch yourself before you fell face first into the cold hard concrete, your ankle twisted and ended up in an uncomfortable position.

you had to bite your tongue to hold yourself back from screaming due to the sudden sharp and piercing pain coming from your ankle.

when you finally managed to limp your way back to your front porch, you figured you could simply just eat some painkillers and sleep off the pain before your boyfriend got back from training.

but to your absolute horror and misfortune, the moment you opened the front door, you caught sight of your beloved boyfriend walking out from the kitchen with a cup of water in his hand.

the moment isagi saw you limping back through the front door in your sports attire, he immediately placed his cup on the kitchen island and rushed to your side to support you as he brought you to the couch to sit down.

“yeah, well… i thought the ground would've mostly dried up by the time i went out for my jog.” you gave isagi a sheepish and apologetic smile.

“well too bad, you thought wrong. and now look who's the one with a sprained ankle, hmm?” isagi continued to tease you with a soft chuckle, finally removing the ice pack from your inflamed ankle and placing the melted bag of gel down on the carpet.

“so? think you can stand up and walk on your own now?” isagi asked, lightly tracing circles on the bottom of your foot, leaving behind a ticklish sensation that got your foot to twitch and squirm in response.

seeing how your foot was flinching away from isagi's gentle touches, he merely smirked in amusement.

“not really, no.” you laughed, happy to keep things light-hearted despite the fact that you probably wouldn't be able to walk without support for the next few days.

but fret not. isagi was here to be your knight in shining armour, like how he always had been ever since you both started dating.

“do i need to push you around in a wheelchair like those elderly couples?” isagi joked, scooting himself closer to the side of the couch to get closer to you whilst he was still squatting down on the ground.

“well yeah, obviously. you don't expect me to roll around on the floor, do you?” you playfully rolled your eyes at your boyfriend's antics, watching as he reached out to grasp your hand in his.

his thumb traced small, comforting circles on the back of your hand, making you sigh out in satisfaction at how lucky you were to have isagi yoichi as your boyfriend.

a smile graced his lips. not the kind of smile he had whenever he scored a goal, or the kind of smile he gave to his teammates and friends. it was a smile that was solely reserved only for you.

isagi reached his other hand out to caress your cheek, lightly pinching it as a way to show his absolute affection and devotion towards you.

“don't worry. i’ll be the one to push your wheelchair. be it right now, or 60 years down the road.”

you never knew the words that left his lips would take you back to the days where you were falling head over heels for isagi yoichi all over again, but it did.

it had been months since you last felt your heart beat so rapidly against your chest and that queasy feeling of butterflies in your tummy.

those words may seem simple at first glance, but when you analyze it beneath the surface level, it held so much more meaning.

isagi was making a vow to you, promising to stay by your side through thick and thin. even when your youth was nothing but a distant memory, he would still choose you.

he wanted to spend his entire life with you, even if it meant he would have to be pushing your wheelchair around when you were all old and wrinkly.

those words were isagi's true feelings for you,

and they have never left your mind ever since the day he said them to you. not that isagi would ever give you a chance to forget about them in the first place.

ᯓ★ bachira meguru ᝰ.ᐟ

“i’ve cut up some fruit!”

your boyfriend’s lively voice from the kitchen reached your ears as you sat in the living room couch, busily typing away on your laptop.

you resisted the urge to turn away from your laptop screen to reply to your boyfriend, instead choosing to continue typing away on your essay that was due today.

seeing as you did not reply, bachira held the bowl of fruits in his hand as he made his way towards you, who was so diligently working on your assignments.

“do you want some?” the happy boy leaned his face right in front of yours with a cheeky grin, knowing that his actions would get a reaction out of you, who had been ignoring him the past few hours or so.

and rightfully so— you knew better than anyone that if you were to shower bachira with even an ounce of affection, you would never be able to direct your focus back on the task at hand.

“mmm… i’ll eat it later. you can munch on some first.” you suggested absentmindedly, gently using your hand to push bachira’s face away out of your view so that you could focus on the half finished word document displayed on your laptop screen.

well, that did not work according to bachira’s plan.

seeing how you had been paying all your attention on your laptop for the past few hours made bachira a little (very) attention-starved. dating him was equivalent to having a golden retriever as a pet; both of them were very high maintenance beings.

bachira pouted at your dismissive attitude right now, but he understood that you really needed to finish this assignment before the clock struck midnight.

however, as unfortunate as it sounded, today was also one of the rare days where bachira’s training ended early and he was able to spend some proper quality time with you.

bachira let out a dissatisfied hum, the pout still on his lips as he contemplated what to do in order to achieve the goal of the day.

which was to gain your attention.

he looked back down into the fruit bowl he had prepared for the both of you to share, and it did not take long for the pout of his to turn into a mischievous smirk.

it took you a few moments longer than usual to realise bachira had fallen awfully silent. normally, he would not even give you an ounce of quiet, rambling on and on about anything and everything he could talk about to fill in the silence. yet you hadn’t heard him say anything after you told him to eat first.

it was your fault for not figuring out soon enough that whenever bachira fell silent, he was plotting something in his head.

because before you could even save the progress of your half-written essay to turn and look at your boyfriend, a piece of watermelon poked into a metal fork entered your line of sight, successfully enticing you.

blinking in surprise, you instinctively turned your head to look at the culprit with a raised eyebrow.

“meguru-”

“say ‘ahh’!” bachira knew you all too well, and so he cut you off before you could question what he was trying to do. “you do your report, and i feed you. how does that sound, gorgeous?” bachira added, nearing the fork of watermelon closer to your lips.

he gave you no chance to decline his offer, if you could even count it as that.

“...ahh…” eventually giving in to your boyfriend, you slowly parted your lips and took the watermelon in between your teeth, chewing down on the juicy fruit.

“how is it? does it taste sweet?” bachira asked with a wide and bright smile, wiping the watermelon juice that splattered on the corner of your mouth with the pad of his thumb.

you tried to hide how fast your heart was beating at the simple gesture. but seeing as how bachira started grinning from ear to ear, it didn't take a genius to know that he already noticed your rosy red cheeks.

“tastes yummy.” you remarked with a soft chuckle, turning your attention back to your laptop and typing away on your report. you were trying your best to ignore the loud thumping in your chest.

normally, bachira would have been more clingy and persistent about you paying attention to him, but today he acknowledged that this report was very important to you and played a huge part in your final grade.

thus, he chose to obediently sit by your side for moral support and feed you fruit as you worked away on finishing up your essay.

“mmm, you’re right, it is yummy!” your boyfriend agreed, popping a slice of watermelon in his mouth and chewing down on it. he kept this up, feeding you a piece of fruit and gently wiping away the juice on the corner of your lips with the pad of his thumb before he fed himself a piece of fruit.

after a few minutes, it had finally come down to the very last slice of apple. bachira poked the apple with the metal fork, obviously planning to give you the last fruit in the bowl.

however, bachira’s mind was ever-functioning, and he managed to come up with yet another cheeky plan to surprise you.

“mind looking over for a second, gorgeous?” he called out to you with an innocent smile, waiting for you to stumble into his little trap.

“hmm? hold on.” you quickly typed out the last few words to finish up the sentence in your paragraph before finally turning to look at your boyfriend.

“yeah–?”

in a blink of an eye, bachira placed one end of the apple on your lips before placing the other end of the apple on his lips.

“what is this? the pocky challenge but with apples?” you joked, deciding to play along with bachira’s antics this time. you had ignored him for long enough, he deserved to get some affection from you. especially since he had been doing nothing but quietly sitting by your side and feeding you fruits.

“it’s a reward for working so hard.” bachira then took a big bite of the apple from his end. you followed suit until there was only a tiny chunk separating both your lips from each other.

“may i?” his whisper sounded almost pleading— he had restrained himself from clinging onto you as you worked on your assignment. but now that you were finally giving him your full attention, the boy was yearning for more.

“you may.” you reassured with a slight nod of your head, encouraging bachira to make the final move.

in which he did, biting down the last chunk of the apple before pressing his lips against yours.

it felt wonderful to have your lips moulded against his after being deprived from his affections for so long due to focusing on your essay. you chucked your laptop to the side of the couch, your arms snaking around his waist to make the kiss last longer.

perhaps a small break wouldn’t hurt...

ᯓ★ kunigami rensuke ᝰ.ᐟ

“oooh, what's going on there?”

the curiosity in you was building up when you noticed a crowd gathering just a distance away from the pathway kunigami and yourself were walking on.

as you pointed your index finger towards the crowd, kunigami turned his head to look in that direction before giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“wanna go check it out?” he offered with a soft smile on his lips. you both had nothing important going on right now anyways. the two of you were just walking around the streets aimlessly and doing some window shopping to pass some time before you both would head for dinner.

“yeah!”

the way you chirped out happily in response, your eyes sparkling with excitement made kunigami's heart tighten with a certain fondness he couldn't exactly put into words.

before kunigami knew it, you were dragging him towards the crowd of people to see what all the commotion was about.

when the two of you were close enough, kunigami easily saw past the sea of crowd and his eyes eventually landed on a stage that was being setup with speakers and instruments, along with what seemed to be an amateur band preparing to perform.

“seems like it's a band performance. you interested to watch?” kunigami asked you. he had to raise his voice a little to beat the crowd’s volume, his eyes trailing back to look down at you.

oh.

your boyfriend was met with the sight of you standing on your tippy toes doing little subtle hops on the spot, trying to move your neck around to glance past the back of everyone’s heads, but unfortunately to no avail. you two were considered to be rather far back in the crowd, and everyone had a height advantage against you too.

sometimes kunigami would forget how short you were, or rather how tall he was as compared to you. things that he could easily do such as watching a performance at the back of a crowd was deemed as a challenge for his tiny and petite girlfriend.

kunigami was having an internal conflict with his inner voice on whether he should just push through the crowd so the both of you could make it to the very front of the stage (but also proceed to have a bunch of people glare at the two of you throughout the whole performance).

kunigami was the number one fan of everything being fair and square. and as much as he found the situation unfair for you, he also understood that it would be unfair to literally everyone else if he just rudely pushed through the crowd to get to the very front solely for your sake.

it wasn’t that kunigami would not do anything for you, he would give up anything and everything for you. but in situations like these where the universe was giving him a test on whether he should side with his morals or your happiness, he found himself stuck in the middle.

eventually, you turned to look up at your boyfriend, your soft lips jutting out to form a pout.

“rensuke, i can't see.” that sweet voice of yours would've sent kunigami into a deep trance if he was a weak-willed man.

the man pursed his lips together, desperately digging his brain for any ideas on how to ensure you got to see the performance without making the rest of the audience mad.

then, it was like something clicked in his head. like as if a tiny mouse living in his noggin just attached the two correct wires together and allowed kunigami’s brain to come up with the perfect solution that will make you happy and stick to his morals of ensuring everything was fair and square.

moving his hand down to ruffle your hair affectionately, kunigami then proceeded to crouch down in front of you, his back now facing towards you.

the action made you stunned into place, staring at kunigami’s toned back in disbelief and confusion. “rensuke?” you called out, prompting him to provide some sort of explanation for his action.

“i’ll piggyback you. that way, you'll be able to see the performance, right?” kunigami asked, trying his very hardest to sound as calm as he could. he would die if you saw through just how flustered he was feeling at the moment.

kunigami was often deemed as a scary delinquent due to his built figure in addition to his height being a whopping 6’2, but only a rare few properly understood that he was nothing but a life-sized teddy bear.

and you were the only one that would ever get this special treatment from him.

when kunigami felt your plush thighs press against his neck and shoulders, he grabbed onto your lower calves to ensure you were steady on his back before he slowly stood up to his full height again.

“can you see the stage?” kunigami asked you with a small smile on his face. he could feel many pairs of eyes looking towards the two of you, but he couldn't blame them. he was the only one among the crowd that was carrying a girl on his shoulders.

although you were not used to the stares accompanied by a couple of girls gushing over how cute your boyfriend was to be openly carrying his girlfriend on his shoulders, you were filled with a sense of pride when hearing people whisper about what a good boyfriend kunigami was.

“i can see the world.” you joked, but you sounded amazed by the view. it was your first time getting such a clear view of everything you desired like it was a piece of cake.

“is this how it feels to view the world through your eyes, rensuke?” a soft giggle slipped through those soft lips of yours as you hugged your legs tighter around his neck to ensure that you would not fall off (but also making sure not to accidentally suffocate him in the process too).

“perhaps. but i wish you could see what i see whenever i look at you.” kunigami responded with a playful grin.

your heart skipped a beat at his words, suddenly feeling all giddy and floaty on the inside.

oh, how lucky you were to call this man yours.

ᯓ★ itoshi rin ᝰ.ᐟ

the familiar sound of the front door being opened was accompanied by your boyfriend's monotonous voice.

the words that escaped his mouth seemed habitual and subconscious, and you wouldn't doubt that he would still say the same exact thing even if you weren't around to receive his greeting.

“i'm home.”

you immediately sat up from the couch with a smile, turning to glance at your boyfriend so that you could return his greeting.

“welcome home, rin!” your enthusiastic response was something rin could never dream of getting tired of. no matter how many times this scene unfolded in front of him, it never failed to warm that stone-cold heart of his.

it just seemed to fulfill that hidden desire of his to finally feel loved and be appreciated by someone.

but of course, he would rather take this little secret of his down to the grave with him than ever letting you know about it.

“thanks.” rin responded, trying to seem nonchalant about your response. he had barely given a reaction to it for the past year, so why should he now?

“oh, what's that? did someone give you a gift for winning your game today?” rin used the back of his foot to gently kick the door shut behind him as you spoke, pointing at the basket in his hands out of curiosity.

“no, i bought these.” rin rolled his eyes at you. what made you think he would be accepting gifts from anyone other than his girlfriend? he wasn't that much of a sucker for attention from other girls.

before you could follow up with a second question on what was in the basket that looked to be stuffed to the brim with items, rin walked towards you and shoved the basket right in your face.

looking at rin with a raised eyebrow, you held the basket with both your hands and took a look in it, wondering what could rin possibly have bought for the basket to be looking so full yet barely having any weight to it.

inside, there were tampons and pads arranged neatly on the left side of the basket. it was plenty to last you for the next three to four months or so. and the right side was stuffed to the brim with chocolates and sweets that you remembered mentioning to rin about them being your favourite.

and if that wasn't jaw dropping enough, there was also a cute little teddy bear in the basket, staring right back at you with its cute little beady eyes and a cartoon smile.

“you're going to attract flies into your mouth. close up.” rin commented, scoffing in amusement at your reaction to his small gesture. he crossed his arms over his chest, trying his best to remain as indifferent as he could.

but if you took a closer look at him, you would realise that the tips of his ears held a faint red hue to them.

“but rin… what's this for? my period isn't even here yet.” you looked up at him with your stupidly wide eyes that could compare to a puppy's. seriously, sometimes rin wondered how you looked more like a dog than a human.

“yeah, but it's in two days, is it not?” that was a rhetorical question.

it wasn't that rin was genuinely asking whether your period was coming in two days, he knew. he was just telling you in a way that would make him feel like he held the upper hand against you, especially when it came to your own body.

he just wanted to challenge you to prove him wrong, as he always did. his confidence was always sky high— but rightfully so (in his opinion).

you blinked in surprise, grabbing your phone and unlocking it to check your period tracker. you had been losing track of time due to how busy you were that you hadn't even realised that rin was right. your period was coming in two days.

“how'd you know that?” you asked him back, seeming shocked that rin bothered to remember your monthly shark week. you were convinced he barely cared about dates that were not as important to him like anniversaries and your birthday.

“you think you're the only one with a period tracker app? i have it too.” rin answered, sounding as calm and nonchalant as he always did.

come on, it wouldn't hurt for him to show even an ounce of emotion. it was already so painfully obvious how much he loved and cared for you, it wouldn't bring any harm to be nice to you every now and then, would it?

“you're such a creep.” you tried to tease him in a serious tone, biting back the smile that threatened to show on your face. you were trying to get him to show his rare soft side.

but rin was one step ahead of you. he knew you better than the back of his hand, and he didn't hesitate to tease you back.

“i’ll take it as you don't want my gift then. might as well give it to another girl who'll appreciate it more than this ungrateful brat.” as if to entice even more of a reaction out of you, rin slowly edged his hand closer to the basket, threatening to take it away from you.

“what?! no! don't you dare!” you gasped, immediately hugging the basket protectively like it was your newborn baby.

that was exactly the reaction rin wanted out of you.

his cold facade was unable to further resist your cuteness and started to crumbled as a faint smirk ghosted his lips.

his hand that was once edging towards your basket (technically his, since he was the one that paid for everything) moved towards the top of your head to ruffle your hair.

silence filled the room, and you looked up at rin patiently with an anticipating smile on your face, waiting for him to finally say the words he had been holding back all this while.

“ i... i love you.” he eventually whispered out with a defeated sigh, leaning down and planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “don't ever forget that, ‘kay?”

rin knew he was bad at expressing his emotions. but he wanted to make sure to remind you from time to time that his feelings for you would never change. not now, not ever.

ᯓ★ michael kaiser ᝰ.ᐟ

“come.” kaiser patted his lap, a coy smirk on his lips as his sapphire eyes observed your figure standing by the bedroom door, not moving despite his command. “hurry up meine liebe, i don't have all day.”

those words were what finally made you obediently walk towards where kaiser was seated at; the chair just by the vanity table you both shared.

he rested his hand on the vanity table, rhythmically drumming his index finger on the surface of the table as his eyes remained fixated on you.

kaiser was a bold individual, and it was something you both hated and loved simultaneously.

he never tried to hide the fact how his eyes were always lingering on your body, staring at you like you were the next prey he wanted to devour.

even now, he watched intensely as your hips swayed from side to side while you walked across the bedroom to make your way towards him.

it was almost like you were strutting into the lion's den, volunteering to be his next meal.

and even as you finally lowered your hips and straddled his lap, kaiser didn't look away from you for even a second, the smirk on his face only growing more smug and cocky.

“you’re so cute, i can't tell if you're doing this on purpose to seduce me or not.” kaiser couldn't help but tease you, noting how your cheeks were rosy and the way you were trying to avoid his intense stare.

“quit it, mihya. didn't you say you were in a hurry?” you rolled your eyes at your boyfriend's antics. it left you all weak and flustered, and you knew that kaiser took pleasure in seeing how he had the upper hand against you everytime.

you were nothing but a little mouse the lion planned to toy with for amusement before he eventually wolfed you down in his stomach.

“the emperor chooses his next move.” kaiser pointed his index finger at your cheek, slowly inching closer before gently giving you a little poke. “not you.”

despite his words, kaiser moved his hand away from your face to stop messing with you as he was not lying about being short of time.

his hand felt around the vanity table, before coming into contact with just the object he needed.

using his free arm to wrap around your waist to keep you steady in his lap, kaiser brought the eyeliner pen to his lips, using his teeth to bite the cover off before securing it on the back of the pen.

“be a good girl and sit still for me, hmm? i don't have time to redo it if you make me mess up.” typical of kaiser to push the blame onto you if he messed up. he was an egoist, thus his mistakes were never his. it was always someone else's.

he kept his hand steady as he moved the eyeliner closer to your face. once the tip of the red tinted pen was close enough to your skin, you closed your eyes so that kaiser could have an easier time applying it on you.

“you're so adorable for wanting to match with me, you know that meine liebe?” kaiser chuckled, using short and gentle strokes to draw the eyeliner onto your eyelids, just like how he would to himself every morning before he started his day. “you'll look gorgeous once i’m done with you, i promise.”

the room fell into a comfortable after kaiser's reassurance, as kaiser decided to direct his full focus on helping you apply the eyeliner. he didn't want to risk messing up.

afterall, he wouldn't have time to help you redraw it due to him having to rush to practice right after this.

you could feel goosebumps surfacing on your skin when you felt kaiser's hot breath hit your cheek. no doubt that he was intentionally leaning in closer to you just so he could get a reaction out of you, as he always did.

you could picture it in your head: his head tilted in an angle, his eyes squinted in concentration while gently drawing on your eyelids. it felt so comforting that you felt like you could fall asleep on his lap, but you resisted the urge to do so.

the sensation of kaiser stroking the eyeliner against your eyelids stopped, before the sound of him popping the cap back on the pen was heard.

“open your eyes, pretty girl. we're all done.” kaiser placed the eyeliner back in the drawer, his other arm still securely keeping you on his lap by holding your waist.

when you opened your eyes, kaiser's face was just inches away from yours. your eyes widened slightly at how close he was to you, trying to remain your composure.

the cocky smirk on his lips proved that he did this on purpose to entice a reaction out of you. before you could resist, your boyfriend leaned in, planting a soft kiss on your lips.

“take a look in the mirror, liebe. don't you just look so beautiful?” kaiser whispered huskily in your ear, gently grasping your chin between his thumb and index finger and guiding your face to turn towards the mirror on the vanity table.

you took a closer look at the reflection in front of you. you, sitting intimately on kaiser's lap whilst he had an arm slung around your waist and the both of you having matching red eyeliners. it looked…

“perfect.” you whispered it out loud without realising.

“oh? what was that?” kaiser leaned his ear closer to your mouth, taunting you to speak up so that he could hear you say it again, but louder.

“i said it looks perfect.” you replied without hesitation, and kaiser seemed satisfied by your obedience today. it was always a nice sight whenever you played along with his annoying and teasing nature.

“and you're perfect for me, liebe.” your boyfriend moved his hand to cup your cheek, the pad of his thumb caressing the fat of it. “you don't understand how grateful i am to have you by my side.”

and you could just about say the same thing about him.

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webslingingslasher · 1 year

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Hi can I ask for a blurb where Peter accidently hits the reader while playing or something like he sometimes forgets about his super strength but fluff at the end please 🥺.

this got away from me but this was so fun and cute to write!

“I kinda want a black eye.”

Your boyfriend slowly lowered the bag of peas on his left eye, his elbow dropped daringly, forcing you to look at the dark purple hue.

“Oh, really?”

You nod, “it looks gnarly but it’d be cool to have one.”

“Baby, my heartbeat is currently taking place from my eyeball. You don’t want one.”

Stretching across the space on the couch you raise Peter’s hand back up so he can ice the bruise some more, it does look painful.

“I think if you loved me you’d give me one.”

Peter took a second to see if that sentence would resonate with you but it hadn’t.

“We should go to the women's shelter and spread that knowledge.”

You scoff, “they weren't asking for it, Peter. I am.”

Your boyfriend lowered his temporary ice pack and reached a hand out, his thumb rubbed under your eye, you almost thought he was thinking about it. Almost.

“I’d never. I would, however, patch you up if you ever got one.”

“Do you have a friend that could-”

“No.”

—------------------------------------

Oh FUCK did your eye HURT.

It was on a level ten throb level, it felt like a ring stretching to your eyebrow and nose. You couldn’t even open it, all you could do was press your hand to it and try and stop the pressure from building, it didn’t work.

You were able to blink it open just enough to be blinded by the living room light, you’ve never been so light sensitive. Squeezing it shut you winced, you tried to be understanding and calm; it was an accident after all. But the pain was spreading all over your face and you had a target right on the corner of your right eye, and it hurt.

If your right eye could open it’d be shedding tears too, you had one continuance stream coming from your left eye.

Your voice bubbles with pain, “petey, it hurts.”

Your boyfriend couldn’t even breathe right now, he had hurt you. The one thing he swore he would never, could never do, and he did it. Panic flooded his body, panicked he’s caused serious damage, panicked you’d be scared of him, panicked you’d dump him, panicked your dad would come curbstomp him.

“It hurts so bad,” he knows you’re calling out for him, he knows you need him, but all he could replay was the ‘whack!’ in his head. It wasn’t gentle in the slightest, you whipped away from him with a hiss, your hand immediately covering your eye. You had been okay at first but after a minute had passed it became nearly unbearable.

Peter knows how bad a black eye hurts, and he just gave you one.

His short, barely there breaths start to stutter.

And suddenly Peter couldn’t see because his vision was muddled by tears, he tried to blink them back but they ran. He can’t remember the last time he’s cried, but this brought him to his knees. He never wanted to punish himself more than in that second. He should’ve been quicker, he should’ve known you were behind him, he has those goddamn senses and they did nothing in that moment.

“Peter!” A desperate cry for attention, you don’t know what to do, it hurts more than you could imagine.

You look up at your boyfriend still standing in shock where he jumped away from you after hitting you directly in your eye. A wrestling battle, you had tried to take him down after he’d pinned you three times. In an effort of a sneak attack you crawled up the couch and tried to jump on his back where he sat on the floor. You dived and at the last moment his hand… well you don’t know what he was trying to do but it connected hard to your cheekbone.

Your back hit the couch and you held your hand as you hissed and groaned in hurt, Peter scrambled up and backed up behind the coffee table, as if he was scared to be around you.

He’s crying, your boyfriend’s crying. You’ve been punched and he’s crying.

“I’m.. I’m sorr.. Fuck.” Peter snaps out of it, you need him. He crosses to the couch in two steps, his hand cupping your cheek. It makes everything in him deflate when you flinch as he touches you, he bites his bottom lip to stop a sob. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

His heart hurts as you cry, his thumb taps at your hand covering the damaged eye. The one he caused.

“Let me see it, please?” Peter said it like a question, like he’d ever be lucky enough to have that privilege.

You sob, “it hurts.”

Peter blinks, more tears. He can’t believe he’s crying over this, he also can’t believe he hit his fucking girlfriend.

“I know, I know it does, baby. Please let me see it.”

You choke in air to stop your crying, it works. You slowly lift your hand off your eye, it’s not throbbing as much but the pressure has inflated tenfold and you couldn’t open it if you tried, it was swollen shut. You tried to gauge a reaction out of him, to see how bad it is. You forgot your boyfriend had the world’s best poker face.

Peter wanted to curl up into a ball when he saw the damage.

It was bruising, and swollen and you couldn’t open your eye and it was all his fault.

His fault, his fault, his fault.

If he was normal, if he was a normal boyfriend, this wouldn’t have happened. A normal teenager doesn’t have the strength to hold a ferry or stop a runaway bus, he does. And he used that strength on you.

His powers, his abilities, his strength.

His fault, his fault, his fault.

“You need ice.” Is all that could come out. A wince wraps over your face when you nod, you try to sit up and groan. “Everything hurts. How do you do this? Pain has to affect you differently, right?” Peter ignored you as he backed away, you don’t think he’s ever been so aware of his surroundings and actions.

He shouldn’t be getting ice, he shouldn’t be putting it in a plastic bag and wrapping a rag around it, he shouldn’t be grabbing you tylenol extra strength, he shouldn’t be icing your black eye he caused.

His fault, his fault, his fault.

It scared you how quiet he was, the accidental punch was just that. You weren’t upset at him or scared he would do it again, you were scared how odd he was acting. He was strangely quiet and standoffish, when he came back to you with ice and pills you watched him think about holding the bag to your eye but stopped and put it in your hand.

He shifted his weight and looked at the couch, he stepped back and sat on the coffee table.

Peter cried and was quiet and standoffish and scared to touch you. He was terrified of himself, you may be physically hurt but he was emotionally broken, his one major thing washed down the drain. Accident or not he gave you a black eye, and it was tearing him up inside.

You hummed when ice hit the hot skin, suddenly it didn’t hurt.

“Am I right, super high pain tolerance?”

It’s like you broke through a wall, Peter looked up at you like he just found out you were in the room.

“I hit you.”

You would’ve rolled your eyes if you could’ve.

“That’s a little dramatic.”

Peter shook his head, upset you weren’t upset.

“I hit you hard, I hurt you. I…” His hand pulled at his curls so hard you grit your teeth. “I fucking hit you,” he whispered it, like his own mind couldn’t wrap it around.

He doesn’t pull out the fuck word often.

You thought about reaching out for his hand, but you think that’d made things worse.

“I’m not scared of you, petey. It was an accident.”

“I swore i’d never hurt you, that I would never hit you and I didn’t-”

“Mean it.” You cut him off, “you didn’t mean it.”

Peter rubbed at his jaw and blinked, you saw tears puddling and you wanted to do nothing more than hold him. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, you lowered the bag of ice from your eye prepared to switch seats. He wouldn’t let you.

“Ice.” Cold and hard, like you had no other option. You didn’t question him, you followed instructions.

“Remember when you asked me to give you a black eye months ago?”

It was a joke. Sure, you saw a tiktok with a girl who had one and you couldn’t deny it looked a little cool. Then seeing one on Peter the same night you couldn’t shake it. You were just playing around, it’s not like it was that serious.

“I was joki-”

“I told you I'd never, and I did. I hit my girlfriend and gave her a black eye.”

Disgust. That’s what it was. He was disgusted with himself.

You sat up straight, your lip curled up.

A black eye? Sick.

“Wait, really?”

Peter looked up at your excitement, it came from nowhere.

“You gave me a black eye? I have a black eye right now? For real, for real?”

This wasn’t a cute or funny thing, and he won’t let you make it be one.

He hit you.

“This isn’t funny, I hit you and you’re happy you got a black eye?”

“Pete, I forgive you. And not just cause you gave me a black eye, because it was an accident and you didn’t mean to and you’re obviously extremely remorseful.”

“But I-”

You reached out for his hand, “forgive yourself. You forgive yourself.”

It wouldn’t be instant, until your eye healed, which would be at a much slower rate than him, he wouldn’t be able to fully forgive himself.

“No more wrestling.”

You scoff, “no more sneak attacks, how about that?”

He shook his head, “I don’t want this happening again.”

“If the situation was reversed would you want me to hold it against myself?”

Peter scoffed, “absolutely not, but it wouldn’t hurt me like it does you.”

“So you do have a super high pain tolerance.”

He snapped and ripped his hand from yours, “yes, I do have a super high pain tolerance. I also have super strength and give my girlfriend black eyes.”

You held your hand up, the other one slightly freezing from the cold but you were too scared to take it off.

“First off, plural. Second, please stop. You’re making me feel bad, I’m really okay and I’m not mad and I forgive you a thousand million percent.”

Peter inhaled sharply, he has to believe you. He’s more shook up than you are and he guesses he should agree with you, you were the hurt one. If you forgive him he could try and do the same.

“I think you need to give me a black eye to even it out.”

You gasp like your offended at his words, your hand lays over your heart.

“I’d never!”

Your boyfriend ran his tongue over his teeth and gave you a dead stare, his hands pushed him off the coffee table. His words grumbled, “toxic.”

#peter parker x reader #tasm! peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #peter parker angst #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker fluff #my writing

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tteokdoroki · 5 months

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☆༉ — RYOMEN SUKUNA. santa’s little helper.

about. dressing up as slutty santa warrants some unwanted attention, luckily, sukuna is there to play santa’s grumpy little helper. merry christmas.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, meet cute, reader gets harassed/cat-called, reader is wearing a dress, modern!sukuna, fem!reader. it’s still christmas somewhere - enjoy !! (1K).

you meet modern bf!sukuna at a train station on christmas eve.

all your friends have gone home with guys that they fancied from the club, all the ubers in the area are either booked out or have sky high prices just to get you thirty minutes away not to mention the fact that it’s ice cold and your stupid mean girls themed santa outfit keeps riding up.

if you huff hard enough a cloud of smoke appears in place of your breath — like that of a mighty dragon, accumulating in the night air. it entertains you for all but a moment and doesn’t waste enough time for your train to come faster.

it’s not due for another thirteen minutes.

in that time you watch gangs of girls, groups of guys and just about anybody come and go from the station. your platform isn’t packed but it’s not too empty to the point where you feel unsafe.

“hey pretty girl.” ugh. as if your night couldn’t get any worse, a dingy looking stranger appears from nowhere — breathing down your neck, nastily drinking you in as if you’re a free shot at a bar. like you’re easy.

waving your hand away, you focus your gaze on the platform across the track and pray that someone notices your predicament. “no thank you.”

“oh come on gorgeous, give a guy a chance!” they press, crossing all of your boundaries to be in your space. even as you try to walk away, you can still feel the ghost of their sleazy words against the bare and exposed parts of your skin.. “where are you going all dressed like that, with no one to admire you?”

on instinct, you pull down your skirts as if to hide yourself from greedy eyes — storming down the platform. “none of your business!”

“hey now, little miss santa! don’t you wanna know? i’ve got a sleigh you can ride!”

“not interested! i’m all good.”

“why? you got a boyfriend?”

“yeah, i do.” you lie smoothly.

“then where is he?” the stranger mocks and closes in on you — you look around pathetically, waiting for some good passer-by to come and help you.

a heavy hand land’s on the stranger’s shoulder — making them jump in shock. you watch as the hand squeezes down, almost tight enough to break bone. “right here,” says a gravelly, husky voice that instantly fills you with warmth and relief. stepping aside, your hero reveals himself — tall with rippling muscles and spiralling black tattoos, lazy blood red eyes and a snarl that reveals sharp fangs and canines. all topped off my tufts of soft pink hair, which don’t do anything to dim his threatening aura. “you got a problem?”

“n-no! sorry man, i didn’t—“

“fuck off, will ya?” your hero spits out venomously and the stranger nods — practically disappearing into thin air after that. your shoulders sag and tensions dissipate from your body. “you okay…miss?”

tentatively, you give the pink-haired man your name — you owe him that much after he’d more or less saved your skin. “all good, thanks to you…”

“sukuna.” he doesn’t look at you, instead pulling a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and lighting one with a flicker of a flame. it’s like he feels you watching him in dismay, and laughs as he takes a drag. it’s kind of sexy, you’ll admit — the way he throws his head back let’s you see the thick lines of black ink extending down his neck. “ticket office is closed and security is shit here. small station. no one’s watching me smoke.”

“right…thanks, sukuna.”

he finally turns to you, deep and blood red eyes drinking you in — almost scrutinising you. you squirm under his gaze, heat prickling at the back of your neck and providing some protection from the cold. “where were you off too?”

“christmas party with some friends.”

“where are they now?”

“sucking face somewhere, and no, they didn’t offer me an Uber before they left.”

sukuna taps the ash from his cigarette and it falls away in the icy breeze. “shit night.”

wringing your fingers, you shrug a little bit. “i guess it could have been worse. so thank you for helping out,” you hum appreciatively. “all i have to do now is wait for this stupid train.”

a beat of silence passes between you both, only broken by your chattering teeth and sukuna’s occasional sniff between puffs of smoke. you hate smokers, but you don’t ask him to stop. not after he’d helped you and is willing to be your human shield until your train comes. anyone else would have left by now.

“i can give you a ride home, if you want?”

you frown… was he, trying to make a move on you?

“if you have a car why are you at a train station.”

sukuna smirks slowly, dropping his cig to the floor and crushing it under his sneaker. you don’t remind him that there’s a law against smoking on the platform. “i’m waiting for my little brother to get home from a trip with his friends. we don’t live too far from here and i offered to pick him up from the station.” he shrugs.

you blink up at him with wide eyes. you’d never imagine a man that looks and carries himself like he does to care so deeply for someone else. you suppose you’re judging a book by his cover.

you’re dressed like slutty santa, so you honestly have no right to do so.

“what’s your brother’s name?”

“yuuji. it’s just us, no parents. that’s why i’m picking him up.” sukuna turns to you, running a hand through his messy pink undercut. “look, i promise i’m not some creep. y’just look cold and i’m not about to let some girl get fucked over by weirdos at this time of night. i won’t touch you, but you can sit in the back with yuuji if it makes you feel better. people usually prefer his stupid face over mine anyways.” he mumbles that last part to himself, but is pleasantly surprised by the cute flutter of laughter that escapes you. “what’s s’funny?”

with a hand resting on your bare stomach, you try to contain yourself. “is it the tattoos or the fact that you have resting bitch face?”

“both.” sukuna sniggers in response, shoving his cold hands deep into his pockets. “so, you takin’ up the offer or what?”

“yeah, thank you…sukuna,” you smile, subtly sliding up beside him for warmth on the chilly platform. “i’d like to meet yuuji for myself, see which brother i prefer.”

“oh fuck you.”

“maybe some other time.”

and even though he’s sure that you’re joking, sukuna detects a glint of honestly in your sparkling eyes as the train finally approaches — it’s yellowing light from inside the carriage only illuminating that spark. you turn your head, trying to spot yuuji while he ponders your words.

sukuna is definitely going to ask for your number after he drops you home. he’ll have to thank that brat of a baby brother yuuji for the opportunity next — without him begging for sukuna to come get him, this would have never happened.

you would have never met.

it’d be a great christmas story to tell the grandkids too. so he’d really have to thank yuuji, even though sukuna would never hear the end of it.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk smut #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #sukuna imagine #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #angelshubnetwork #ghostqueues

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theemporium · 2 months

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[3.3k] a friendship begins to blossom between you and luke as he begins to feel more settled in new jersey. the jump from college was intense, but he was somewhat glad he had a supportive group around him. and maybe his makeout sessions with you were a great stress relief too. (less smut and more heated makeout)

series masterlist

cherry🍒: i don’t believe you can cook

cherry🍒: sounds fake tbh

Luke snorted to himself, his lips twitching upwards as he stared at your message. You had sent it at some point during practice, continuing the conversation the two of you had been having the night before.

The irony wasn’t lost on him.

Less than two weeks ago, he was practically dry heaving on the ice at the idea of meeting up with you and now there hadn’t been a day the two of you had gone without talking.

He didn’t even text his brothers this much when they were apart, and now he was practically glued to his phone whenever he got the chance—something Jack loved to point out.

Pre-season training was intense, he expected as much when he entered the NHL. Both his brothers had warned him about it, too. He just hadn’t realised how intense it was going to be, or how big the jump between college to professional hockey would be.

And he didn’t realise how much more he would be eating.

Jack had found it fucking hilarious. He continuously chirped his little brother for always having a snack in his hand. Whether it was in their apartment, on the road or in the locker room, Jack would be the first to laugh, teasing him about being a ‘growing boy’. The rest of the team were a little more sympathetic, but that didn’t stop them from making some jabs themselves.

It meant that Luke had to adapt, meaning he had to learn to cook more meals beyond the three staples that had got him through college when he wasn’t relying on any meal plans. And it meant he was getting pretty fucking good at it too, much to his own surprise.

hockey boy: i cook so well, you’re just jealous

He paused, his shirt still half-hanging around his neck as he saw you typing.

cherry🍒: prove it then

Luke grinned.

hockey boy: i’m about to blow your mind with my steak subs

He felt a rush of anxiety—a good kind, for once—when he saw the bubbles show up on his screen again. He waited, anticipating your response. He had practically forgotten about the fact he was standing in the locker room, half-dressed after practice until he heard someone calling his name.

“Luke!”

His head snapped up, turning to find that most of the boys had already left. There were a few stranglers, still packing up their stuff with no real rush. But it was Nico who had called his name.

“Uh, yeah?”

“You free to talk?” Nico asked, a kind smile on his face like the other boys on the team had always said. It was hard to feel anything but welcomed by the Swiss. “After you’ve changed.”

“Oh,” Luke glanced down at his phone, seeing a notification that you had replied but quickly shoved his phone down on his bag. “Like, right now? Because I kinda had some plans—”

“It will be quick,” the older man assured him.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat and smiled a little. “Yeah, I’m free.”

Luke moved pretty quickly after that, ignoring his phone as he quickly changed back into the sweatpants and hoodie he had thrown on this morning when Jack had banged on his door at some ungodly, early hour. He shoved most of his things into his bag, trying to act like he felt completely normal and stress-free about a one-on-one conversation with his captain.

He tried to act nonchalant as they made their way to the lounge area where some players crash before or after a practice. Fridges and shelves were stocked with a variety of trainer-approved snacks and protein shakes, it was probably one of Luke’s favourite rooms recently. But now he felt too on edge to even grab one of the lemon muffins he loved.

“Calm down, you aren’t in trouble,” Nico eventually spoke up, settling down on the couch as he looked at Luke expectantly. “I just wanted to talk.”

Luke cleared his throat, settling down on the couch too. “Yeah, so you’ve said.”

Nico’s lips twitched. “How are you finding Jersey?”

“It’s good,” Luke nodded.

Nico raised his brows. “Just good?”

Luke blinked. “...really good?”

“Hm,” Nico hummed, but he sounded amused. “Usually I have trouble shutting Jack up, you’re like the opposite.”

Luke laughed a little. “Jack was always the yapper.”

“He’s kinda what I wanted to talk to you about,” Nico added, almost far too casually. He briefly wondered if his captain was waiting for an in to whatever the real reason behind this conversation was.

“Yeah?”

“You know I’m your captain too, right?” Nico asked, and this time he sounded a lot more serious than he did thirty seconds ago. It was how he sounded on the ice, how he sounded on the bench during playoffs last year. He hadn’t seen much of this side of Nico, but he recognised it well.

Luke frowned. “Is this a trick question?”

“No, I—” Nico paused, shaking his head. “I just want you to know that I see you as one of my boys. Not just Jack’s little brother. When I played with my brother, I know sometimes it feels like you’re just…there. In his shadow, sometimes. I just don’t want you to feel like that here.”

Luke relaxed a little. “I don’t—”

“But you’d tell me if you ever did, yeah? I’m your captain too. I want you to know I’m there if you need me, as a captain or a friend.” Nico had a sincere but serious expression on his face, and a small part of it reminded him of Quinn. That warmth and comfort that came from someone a little older, a little more sure of themselves—a true captain.

“I know,” he promised the older boy with a nod.

“Good,” Nico said before his face broke out into a smile. “Do you need a lift home? I told Jack he could go and I could drive you back—”

“No!” Luke blurted out before blinking, seeing Nico’s slightly surprised face at his outburst. “I, uh, meant that I didn’t need a lift. I was just going to get an Uber.”

Nico’s brows furrowed together. “There’s no need, I can drive you back. I know where—”

“No, I just,” he paused, feeling his cheeks heat up in response. “I’m heading to a friend’s house. Not going home. So.”

“I see,” Nico murmured, and there was something shining in his eyes that Luke didn’t fully understand. He wasn’t sure he wanted to understand. “I can drive you to your…friend’s house, if you want.”

And let you watch him get dropped off by his captain? Yeah, he would rather not.

“I’m fine with an Uber, but thanks,” Luke said with a slightly strained smile, only hoping he didn’t look as guilty as he felt. He didn’t even know why his whole body felt on edge, he knew he was doing nothing wrong.

But something about the way Nico was staring made him feel like he could see right through him, through everything.

He was almost convinced his captain knew exactly where he was going and why, and that was something Luke didn’t want to think about.

…

“Back off!”

“But I’m hungry!”

“There’s gonna be nothing left if you keep eating everything.”

“But it’s taking so long.”

Luke shot you an exasperated look, though he didn’t bother to hide his smile as you slumped against the counter beside him. “It’s only been forty minutes.”

“I was hungry before you got here,” you defended with a huff.

“And you’ve practically eaten all the cheese I was gonna use,” he retorted.

You crossed your arms over your chest. He tried to ignore how endearing he found the act.

“C’mon, give me five more minutes and your food will be done,” Luke tried again, and he managed to finally crack a small smile from you.

“This better be worth it, Hughes. This is my first meal of the day.”

“I—” Luke frowned a little. “Yeah, we’ll dive into that later.”

You raised your brows, something like amusement painted across your face. “Worried about me, Hughes?”

“At the fact it’s one o’clock and you haven’t eaten a single thing?” Luke pointed out. “Yeah, actually, I am. And I think that is a justified reason.”

You waved him off. “I had coffee.”

His lips parted. “That’s not—”

“Cook for me, Hughes,” you interrupted, a grin stretched across your face as you playfully slapped his ass. “You said you would prove yourself.”

Luke’s cheeks flushed. “You’re bossy.”

“And you like it.”

He didn’t disagree.

…

“Stop looking so smug.”

Luke glanced over at you. “I never said anything.”

“But you have a smug smile on your face.”

“I don’t.” He definitely did. “But I am waiting for you to admit I was right.”

“Fine. You’re a good cook or whatever.”

Luke beamed in response.

He was never an overly confident or arrogant guy, not even on the ice. He knew when he played well, he knew when he made people eat their doubts that the youngest Hughes brother wasn’t as good as the other two. He was never the kind to go fishing for compliments or praise either.

But there was something admittedly satisfying when he got to see that expression on someone’s face, the one they got when he proved them wrong.

Whether it was something as big as proving his high school coach that he was good enough to make it into one of the best college’s hockey team, or as small as proving to you he was a damn good cook, and he made a damn good steak sub.

He didn’t like asking for compliments, but it was nice to receive them. To have that reassurance. To know that maybe he wasn’t as hopeless as he sometimes felt in his own body.

You raised your brows. “What? No cocky follow up?”

Luke shrugged, leaning back into the plush cushions of your couch. The plates and the rest of the dirty dishes had been shoved in the dishwasher, some random old sitcom was playing on the tv and the two of you were sprawled on your couch with your feet on his lap. Not that he was complaining.

It was sweet. Relaxing. Domestic.

Almost like you two were just friends hanging out.

“Not really my thing,” Luke admitted. “You said I was right. That’s enough.”

You tilted your head in interest. “That’s enough?”

He missed the heat in your words, the shift in tone in your voice. His eyes were aimlessly focused on the tv, trying to work out what was going on after he zoned out for a few moments. He missed the way your eyes dragged over his body, lingering on the way his shirt stretched over his shoulders and clung onto his arms.

“Yeah,” he nodded absentmindedly. “Jack is the one who would—oh.”

You grinned at the way he fell silent, as he blinked in surprise at the way you planted yourself in his lap.

“I—” Luke cleared his throat, no further words coming out as you placed your hands on his chest.

“Just wanted to say thank you,” you told him, your eyes following the way you ran your hands over the expanse of his chest, the way his heart thundered under your touch before your fingers traced along his neck. “For cooking for me.”

“Right,” Luke said, swallowing a little.

“Can I say thank you, Luke?”

He nodded.

“Words, baby.”

“Yes,” he rasped, his wide eyes staring up at you. “Please.”

“So polite,” you teased before you leaned down, your fingers fisting the material of his shirt in your hands as you pressed your lips together.

It took Luke a few seconds before he eased into the kiss, into letting you take control as your tongue swiped over his bottom lip. He sunk further into the couch, his hands hesitating a few moments before they rested comfortably on your waist, just like they always did.

And you waited.

You waited for them to move as you deepened the kiss, as your tongue explored his mouth. You waited as your hands ran up and down his chest, feeling the way his body shivered under your touch, at the way your nails lightly raked down his stomach. You waited as you felt his hands squeeze your waist, like he was finally giving in.

But his hands remained where they were.

“Luke,” you murmured, a little breathlessly between kisses. “Move.”

He paused, pulling back as he looked up at you with a confused expression. “What? Like, from the couch?”

You couldn’t help yourself as you snorted. “No, I meant your hands.”

“My hands?” He repeated dumbly.

Your smile softened a little as you reached for his hands, squeezing his wrists tightly. “Your hands are your friends,” you told him, biting back your laugh when you noticed his confusion grow. “There’s more to making out with a girl than kissing her.”

“Right,” he cleared his throat a little. “I knew that.”

“You like it when I touch you, right?”

He nodded.

“So, do the same,” you told him, squeezing his wrists again.

Luke blinked, swallowing hard. “I—”

He quickly closed his mouth, his cheeks flushing as a familiar feeling of embarrassment washed over him. He looked a bit hopeless, and it tugged on your heart strings a little to see him so hesitant.

“You can ask me anything, Luke,” you reminded him, your tone soft and void of anything remotely mocking like he almost expected. “I won’t judge.”

His eyes flickered back to your face. “Where…do I touch you?”

You tucked your bottom lip between your teeth. “You want me to show you where I liked to be touched, baby?”

He nodded, his face flushing a deeper shade of red.

You never tore your eyes away from his face as you placed your hands over his, trying not to focus on how much bigger they felt than your own. You watched the way his brows furrowed, like he was trying to concentrate as you guided his hands along your waist until they dipped down to cup your ass.

He swallowed. “Is this okay?”

“So okay,” you told him before you leaned down to kiss him again. His hands remained still on your ass and it made you smile against his lips as you prompted him, as you let his hands experimentally squeeze your ass. “Girls like this.”

“O-Okay,” he breathed out.

“Feels nice when you wanna take a bit more control,” you told him, lightly nipping his bottom lip as he let out a choked noise of surprise. “Control the pace.”

“Mhm,” he hummed, his eyes fluttering shut as you began to guide his hands over your body again.

“Sometimes a girl just wants a little more when you’re making out,” you continued to whisper between kisses, taking his hands to the hem of your shirt. You felt him freeze a little beneath you as you guided him under the material of your shirt and softly squeezed his hands in reassurance. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“Just wanna make you feel good too,” Luke murmured, a little bashful in his admission as his fingers skimmed over the skin of your stomach.

Something inside you twisted, in a good way.

“You’re making me feel good, Luke,” you told him, your lips grazing his as you spoke, as you continued to move his hands further up your body. “Just doing exactly what I tell you. Such a good boy, such a fast learner.”

“Shit,” he breathed out as you rested his hands over your tits. He paused for a moment before giving them an experimental squeeze, finding the smile you gave him in response much more rewarding than anything else.

“That’s it, baby, just gotta be a little more confident,” you murmured before you dipped your head down, finally pressing your lips against his again.

And yeah, it was a little awkward at first when you dropped your hands from his. You were kissing him, your tongue swiping against his and his hands were just lingering on your tits like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself.

But then you rolled your hips against his, snapping him out of whatever brain fog he was lost in and he decided to just let himself sink into it. To just let his instincts take over. To trust the fact you would help him if he was doing something wrong.

And, fuck, Luke thought he might have to listen to his instincts more often if these were the results he got.

One of his hands slipped back down to your waist, to keep you on his lap as the other squeezed your tit over the fabric of your bra. You keened under the touch, almost panting against his lips between kisses as you gripped his shoulders. And then his other hand moved lower, moved to cup your ass and squeeze until he was helping you rock against him.

Your nails dug into his skin, but the pain was dull and desirable. It showed him that you were enjoying this, that you were enjoying the way he pawed at your tits and squeezed your ass. It showed him that maybe he did just need some confidence, to just trust that sometimes he would just instinctively know what to do.

His head dipped a little as your pants became heavier and the kiss was harder to continue. He tucked his face into the crook of your neck, experimentally mouthing along your skin until he found a spot at the base of your neck that made you shiver under his touch.

He slowly ran his tongue along the spot, smiling a little when your fingers moved to grip his curls and tug a little. His teeth grazed the spot, a small voice in the back of his head wanting nothing more than for him to wrap his lips around the spot and suck until—

RING! RING! RING!

Both of you jumped at the shrill of the phone echoing through the room, both of his hands dropping to your waist to hold you tightly before you fell on your ass. His eyes snapped over to where his phone sat on the coffee table and groaned when he realised who was calling him.

“For fuck’s sake,” Luke grumbled, eyes narrowed on his phone as he watched Jack’s call ring on until it stopped.

“For someone who was desperate to get you laid, he sure knows how to ruin a moment,” you commented, though your voice was amused and lighthearted.

“I told him I’d be back later,” Luke huffed out. “I don’t know why—”

He was cut off by his phone buzzing again. And then again. And then again. He sighed deeply as he reached over, not moving you off his lap—and you made no move to slide off either, so he wasn’t complaining. He swiped, unlocking his phone as his brother’s messages came through.

jack attack: yo how did the thing with nico go?

jack attack: also idc what you said, we are having a birthday party for you and the boys agreed

jack attack: bring your lady friend ;)

Luke groaned a little, rolling his eyes and locking his phone instead of replying.

“Not a fan of parties?”

“Not a fan of Jack’s parties—especially ones that are three weeks after my actual birthday,” Luke corrected, his lips twitching downwards as his hands rested casually on your waist. “He tends to be a little…”

“Much?” You supplied.

“Yeah,” Luke snorted. “He also said he wanted me to invite you.”

You raised your brows. “Do you want me there?”

He raised his brows in response. “Do you want to come?”

“I’ll never say no to a party,” you said with a smile that was anything but innocent, leaning down until your lips were brushing his. “Plus, it’s your birthday. I think you deserve a little treat.”

Luke gulped a little. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you grinned before kissing him, whilst his whole body flushed at the implications of your words.

jack attack: i know you read my texts

jack attack: stop fucking and reply, asshole!!

#luke hughes #nhl #new jersey devils #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fic #luke hughes one shot #luke hughes smut #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot #nhl smut

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evielmostdefinitely · 5 months

Note

i love soft!coriolanus. big bad mean man being so sweet?

something where maybe you're sick? nothing major but something where he gets to dote on you?

watch over me |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: as requested above, you're sick and coriolanus takes care of you.

contains: slightly dark!coriolanus. possessive and manipulative-ish coriolanus and slight paranoia. past mentions of lucy gray. mainly just fluff.

“Is there a reason you decided not to show up to the luncheon today? Left me sitting there like an idiot without you.” Coriolanus was annoyed, beyond annoyed- tone clipped with irritation, stomping through the suite that was just for the two of you.

He didn’t see you in the living room, not lounging on the couch or even in the sun room. His bristling exasperation grew to raging fear. Sickening, haunting what if’s slammed to the front of his mind, painstaking memories of Lucy Gray’s disappearance. History had repeated itself again, he was sure of it as Coriolanus barked out your name, turning the corner furiously.

Your tiny squeak of a response came from the ensuite bathroom, muffled by the closed door and high ceilings of your bedroom. Coriolanus bounded towards the bathroom, yanking the door open with a fury, softening once he saw you, crumbled on the bathroom tile. Your head pressed against the clawfoot tub, stuffy nose sniffles that had him cringing.

“Darling,” Coriolanus watched you carefully. “Are you alright?”

You lifted your head, eyes red rimmed with irritation. You looked pitiful- Coryo cursed the way it made his heart swell and boast with pure adoration. “I think I might have the plague.” You sounded like your nose was clogged, voice scratchy and soft, looking at him helplessly.

Coryo grinned, a small huff of a laugh, walking over to you. “The plague?” He repeated, pressing a hand to your forehead- the skin clammy and hot. “You feel feverish.”

“I am.” You croaked, leaning into his touch. “I had the doctor check on me. I have the flu. I-I meant to call you, but I got really cold and then hot, and-”

“-That’s alright.” Coriolanus shook his head gently, thumbs massaging your temples in a soft way that had you mewling, head lolling into his touch. “I hate that you’re not feeling well, my love. Did the doctor give you anything?”

“A shot.” You rasped, eyes closed, body pressing further and further into him. “I think my fever broke. I got really hot so I decided to lay in here. The tile is cool.”

“I could have brought you ice.” Coryo muttered. “I can have the Avoxes bring you an ice pack for your head.”

“No, I-I’ll be alright. I feel better now.” You were lying, Coryo knew that, but he didn’t correct you. Not now. Not while you felt so ill.

“I’m sorry I missed the luncheon.” Your eyes rounded when they met his gaze.

“None of that. I won’t hear it.” Coriolanus shook his head firmly, the back of his hand pressed to your forehead. Were you too hot? What did too hot feel like? Should he call the doctor back? His own worries mixed with his sinking guilt made him feel uneasy.

“You need to rest.” Coryo said firmly.

“I-I’m alright. Just let me bathe, and I can make it to the dinner-”

“-Don’t be ridiculous.” Coryo scoffed, a hand on your sweat soaked back, pulling you up, holding you firmly to his side as he walked you towards the bed.

You clung to him, walking stiff from the tightness in your joints, a little dizzy from the medicine and the sudden movements. He loved it, pulling you closer to him. How pliant you were, how easily you obeyed and relied on him.

“You are to stay in bed until you feel better, do you understand me?” Coriolanus commanded, flipping the covers back, helping you into your side of the bed.

You fell into your pillows far too easily, no fight left in you, body flooded with fatigue. It was so easy to let Coryo take control of you like this. Let him take care of you, tell you what you should and shouldn’t do- do it for you without asking. You supposed you shuld feel trapped, and maybe at times you did, but at moments like these, your heart filled with nothing but fondness.

“You tell me if you feel anything, anything even the slightest bit off.” Coryo’s hand pressed to your warm cheek, your eyes glazed with fever. “Are you listening to me?”

“Yes.” You hummed, eyelids drooping. “I will let you know.”

“What do you need now?” The bed dipped, Coriolanus taking a seat next to you. “What can I get for you?”

“I’m just going to rest, Coryo.” You muttered, settling into the soft pillows.

“I’ll get you a glass of water.”

“Coryo, I’m fine.” You grinned sleepily, heart bursting with warmth and adoration for him. “I just need to rest.”

Coriolanus allowed it, commanding his protempore to bring him his work, rescheduling the meetings for the day so he could work at the small desk in the corner of the room. Carefully looking over schedules and statements and militia plans, while also watching you. Every snore, hum, sigh, toss and turn, sound coming from you had his attention peeked, ready at any moment to scream for the doctor. His mind raced still, even with you in front of him, possibilites of horrendous outcomes and terrifying scenarios.

Until you woke up, greeted by a small bowl of soup- one his Grandma’am used to make him and Tigris when they were ill. “I can eat on my own, Coryo.” You shook your head lightly at him, accepting another spoonful of the warm liquid, sighing at how it soothed your aching throat.

Coriolanus didn’t respond, bringing the spoon to your lips instead. And you let him, of course you let him. When he was so gentle like this, fussed over you this way, gave you his undivided attention.

Contentment settled over both of you behind the closed doors of your home. This type of softness never to be seen outside of here. Tomorrow, Coriolanus would order three executions in the Capitol, striking even more fear over the Districts and weeding out the rebels. He’d be merciless and cold and cruel out there, but for you- for now, he’d be gentle.

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moonstruckme · 5 months

Note

hello, hello! can i ask for an au of emt!marauders? she had a minor accident maybe in her work or college and they got called in without knowing that it was her? (shes their gf) 💘

How could I refuse??

cw: minor head injury, the teeniest tiniest hint of a praise kink

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

You’re sitting on the curb holding a bag of ice to your head when the ambulance cuts its sirens, coming to a stop. The door opens and boots hit the pavement in front of you.

“Dollface?”

You blink up into the sun. “Sirius?”

He crouches by your knees, worry making itself at home in the crease between his brows. “Hey, baby, what’s going on?”

“I didn’t think it’d be you,” you say dumbly.

“Are you hurt?” James comes bounding around the other side of the ambulance, Remus not far behind him. You can’t say you’re not happy to see them, but you sort of wish your reunion could have waited until your date tomorrow night, when you would almost surely not have been in your work uniform and covered in pasta sauce. “Are we here for you?”

“Technically,” you reply, somewhat bitterly. James squats beside Sirius, mouth pulling to one side. “I fainted a little bit, and my boss said he had to call an ambulance. Just so I can’t sue the restaurant, I guess. I’m totally fine.”

“They called us and then made you sit on the curb?” Sirius asks angrily while James says, “How does one faint only a little bit?”

“They didn’t want you guys scaring the customers.” You choose to answer only Sirius’ question, shrugging. His eyes flare, and he looks towards the restaurant like he’s thinking about going inside to have some words with your manager, but Remus passes a conciliatory hand over his shoulder as he sits beside you on the curb.

“What’s this for, love?” he asks you, covering your hand where it holds the bag of ice.

You must look as sheepish as you feel, because his eyes narrow slightly. “I guess I hit my head a bit when I fell.”

“So,” he says dryly, “not totally fine, then.”

“I mean, I don’t think I hit it very hard,” you try, but Remus is already removing your makeshift ice pack, tilting your head so he can see the forming bump on the side.

“Why don’t you tell us everything that happened,” James suggests, giving your knee a teasing squeeze as Sirius moves beside Remus to jockey for a view of your head, “just so we have all the facts.”

“I was carrying a tray to my table,” you explain, wincing as Remus passes a thumb over your wound with a murmured apology, “and I started to feel weird, like wobbly and out of it. I thought it might pass, but—” Sirius sends you a horrified look and your voice quiets, chastened. “I know I probably should have sat down or something, but I was working, you know? Anyway, then I guess I fell and smacked my head on the floor. When I woke up, the food was everywhere,” you recall with a sigh. Your coworkers are going to be less than pleased with you for leaving them that mess to clean up.

“Is that what this is?” James asks, mouth tilting upward as he looks at the mess of your uniform.

You nod solemnly. “Alfredo sauce.”

“Did you land on any glass or anything?” Sirius asks you. He and Remus have evidently finished with their inspection of your head, though Remus’ hand still cups the back of your neck protectively.

“No, all the plates that ended up breaking went the other way.”

“You thinking concussion?” James asks him.

“No,” you say, at the same time as Sirius says, “Maybe.”

Sirius fixes you with an odd look, half remonstrance and half endearment. “Sorry, doll, but you’re not exactly an expert. You very stubbornly did your job when you should have looked after yourself” —he squints his eyes at you playfully, giving your shoulder a mean squeeze— “now let us do ours for a bit, yeah?”

You purse your lips in malcontent, but James is already clicking on his pen light, shining it in your eyes. “Look straight ahead for me, angel?”

“S’not a big deal,” you mutter one last time in quiet mutiny, doing as he says. All three boys ignore you.

James clicks the light off. “Alright, do you know the date?”

“No.”

“How about the year?” he asks patiently. You tell him, and he goes on to ask you the month and the day of the week.

“Good.” He rewards you with a smile when you answer correctly. “Okay, do you feel nauseous or dizzy at all, darling?”

When he looks at you like that? A little, but that’s probably unrelated. “No,” you tell him.

“Headache?” Remus asks you.

“I mean, only here.” You lay your palm over the bump to indicate it, but wince when it hurts worse than you expected. Sirius coos, taking your hand in his to prevent you doing yourself further harm. “Not on, like, the inside.”

“Okay, that’s what I meant,” Remus reassures you. “What about why you fainted, love? Do you have any idea what happened?”

You bite the inside of your lip, thinking. “Not really.” Your head had just hurt a bit, then you’d felt woozy, and then you’d fallen and it had hurt a lot worse.

“Did you have lunch before you came to work?” James prompts.

You nod.

“What did you have?”

You tell him. He seems tentatively satisfied.

“And for breakfast? What about for dinner last night?”

You think back, telling him what you can remember, and he nods, looking somewhat bemused.

“Did you have a drink with any of that?” Remus asks.

You think harder. Had you? The realization must show on your face, because Sirius tuts.

“There it is,” he says knowingly. “When was the last time you had water, doll?”

“I…I don’t remember. I had coffee yesterday—”

They all groan. James starts laughing soon after, patting you on the thigh at your timid expression.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, just drink plenty of water and then go home to rest, alright? You might feel shaky for a bit, so don’t get in your car to drive until you’re feeling better. Rem, do we have some water bottles in the van?”

“Yeah.” Remus stands, palm landing affectionately on your head as he passes behind you to climb into the back of the ambulance.

“Don’t worry,” you tell James, exhaustion seeping into your voice, “I won’t be driving for a while yet. My shift doesn’t end until six.”

Contrary to your intentions, some of the relief saps from James’ countenance. “You’re still planning on working?”

Uh, duh. Does he think your rent is going to pay itself? “I mean,” you say, trying to appear somewhat patient, “yeah.”

“Well, go ahead and get that out of your head right now,” Sirius nearly laughs. “There’s no way that’s happening today, sweetness.”

“What’s not happening?” Remus asks, uncapping a water bottle before passing it to you.

“She thinks she’s going back to work,” Sirius says wryly.

Remus looks at you, appalled. You only shrug, sipping at your water.

“You can’t work after a fainting spell like that. Especially not as dehydrated as you are—your body needs rest.” He shakes his head at you. “You can either get it at home or come with us to the hospital.”

You roll your eyes, re-capping the half-drained water bottle. “That’s so dramatic.”

“No, I’m the dramatic,” Sirius corrects you. “Remus is the reasonable one, which is how you know he’s right. Those are your options, dollface.”

You huff. “Fine, then can one of you go tell my manager that? I don’t want to be blamed for skipping the rest of my shift.”

“You’re not skipping anything,” Sirius says, standing. “I’ll go, I’ve got some things to say to him anyway.” He cracks his knuckles, and you look to James in alarm.

He leaps up, catching up to Sirius in a few long strides and nudging him back towards you. “I’ve got it, Pads. Why don’t you make sure she finishes that water bottle?”

“Fine.” Sirius stomps his way back to you. “But make him answer for sending her outside to sit on the curb.”

“Please don’t!” you call after James.

Sirius’ gaze narrows, flicking between you and the water bottle beside you expectantly. “Drink.”

“Fine, sheesh.” You pick it up and twist off the cap. Remus chuckles, picking up your half-melted bag of ice to hold it against your head for you. “Isn’t it, like, your job to be nice to people when they’re injured?”

“I thought you weren’t injured?” Remus hums. You shoot him a look that’s meant to be intimidating, but his lips twitch upwards. “Relax, love, we’re just worried about you.”

Well, it’s hard to be mad at that. “Thanks,” you say quietly.

Sirius resumes his crouch in front of you, taking one of your knees in each hand and squeezing lightly. “We get off in a few hours,” he says. “Would it be okay if we came by for dinner? We can bring takeout or something.”

You lower the water bottle, looking at him with interest. Your day has suddenly taken a positive turn. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

“Good.” He smiles, leaning forward to kiss you on the cheek. “Now be a good girl and finish your water.”

You flush instantly, and Remus’ head swivels as if to make sure no one is nearby to have heard him. “Sirius,” you hiss, “I’m at work!”

His grin sharpens. “Not anymore, you’re not.”

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theysherobinbuckley · 1 year

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a little something I started but probably won't ever finish - alternate first meeting steddie! post s3, pre s4

(context: in an effort to cheer up his perpetually grumpy new neighbor, Eddie broke out his old skateboard and immediately ate shit for it. Cue Red calling none other than Steve Harrington to solve the problem...)

Red was barely in the door when Harringron turned on him, jaw clenched and fingers twitching. Having those dark eyes focused so entirely on him nearly made Eddie dizzy.

His lips were moving and- oh shit. Eddie was totally supposed to be listening.

"Uh, what?"

"What are you doing hanging around Max?"

Eddie frowned. "We're neighbors?"

"So?"

"So I'm being… neighborly? Is that illegal?"

"Neighborly is getting someone's mail while they're out of town. Not a super senior hanging around with a girl who's not even in high school yet."

"You better be fucking careful what you're accusing me of, Harrington, because to be honest, you don't look any better. Don't think I haven't heard your beemer pull up at all hours of the night. What the fuck is that about, huh? King Steve likes 'em young?"

Eddie's back hit the trailer before the last word even left his mouth. All the breath rushed out of him at once as Harrington pinned him with one arm across his shoulders.

"Don’t fucking say that," he seethed. "She's like my sister. I'm not- I wouldn't hurt her."

Eddie reached up to pat Harrington's arm placatingly, sending him as sweet a smile as he could muster.

"Hey, I believe you, man. I'm a little lost, sure, but I believe you." He sent a look to the trailer to his right. "Now can you let me down before Muriel sends Axel out to break your arm?"

Harrington followed his gaze and, upon seeing Muriel frowning from behind her curtains, dropped Eddie faster than if he'd told him he had the plague.

"We're in my kingdom now, Harrington," he said, grinning and waving in Muriel's direction. "These are my people. We take care of each other here. And Red's one of us, whether you like it or not."

Steve frowned, opened his mouth to respond, maybe even protest, but Eddie cut him off.

"I was just trying to make the kid smile, okay? So I got out my old skateboard, did a few tricks, busted my shit." He held up the ice pack he'd stolen from Red's fridge. "She called you 'cause she said you'd know what to do."

Harrington was quiet. Noticeably, he did not apologize for jostling Eddie's extremely sore wrist, but whatever.

"Did she?"

"Yeah, man, I tried to talk her out of it, but she seemed pretty confident you'd pick up. And here you are, so…"

"No, I mean- did she have fun?"

Eddie shrugged. "I mean, she didn't look as miserable as usual. Laughed a couple times when I fucked up a dismount. What's up with that, by the way? The constant dispair?"

Harrington's whole body tensed, and Eddie was almost scared he was gearing up to punch him just for asking.

"You remember Billy Hargrove?" he replied, his voice tight.

Eddie couldn't help but sneer at the mention of that piece of shit. Wayne had always taught him not to speak ill of the dead, but that didn't mean he couldn't think some choice things about him. Like the fact that he was pretty sure the guy was rotting in hell for all the things he'd said to Jeff in the school halls.

"Unfortunately. What about him?"

"He was Max's older brother. Step-brother."

"That's..."

"Fucked?" Harrington supplied. Eddie nodded. "Yeah. So I just- I need to make sure another Hargrove doesn't come around. Sorry I got all... you know. I've been told I can be kind of intense."

"No shit," Eddie laughed. "No hard feelings, I guess. Since it's in Red's best interest."

"No hard feelings," Harrington echoed. "Thanks for looking out for her."

Then, something Eddie had never even dreamed of: Harrington stuck his hand out, clearly expecting a handshake.

Huh.

It was over in a second, but Eddie's hand burned where Steve's had been.

"No problem. I'm kind of the park babysitter," Eddie replied. "Part of the job description."

Harrington lit up at that.

"I babysit too! Max and a few of her friends. 'S why I'm always around. I'm usually playing chauffeur for one of the other gremlins."

"That makes more sense than you having a torrid love affair with Susan."

"Yeah, she's not really my type," Harrington said with a smirk.

Eddie watched in shock as Harrington's eyes slowly, deliberately dipped up and down his form.

Talk about fucking whiplash. Eddie could still feel Harrington's strong arm against his chest, the brush of Harrington's nose against his own, the heat of Harrington's breath on his face. And now the king was checking him out?

"I see. Not into MILFs?"

Eddie was in the middle of making plans to staple his big stupid mouth shut when Harrington laughed.

"I'm more into brunettes."

And boy, didn't that seem pointed.

#steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #max mayfield #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #ej writes #ej posts #ok to rb

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abilouwrites · 2 months

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SOMEONE TO CALL MINE

Modern zuko

Zuko began getting accustomed to the gaggle of girls who would walk into his uncle’s shop, cooing and flirting as they would order tea. But he wasn’t used to this new group. A quad of four, all girls— not obsessed with the idea of flirting… just yet.

All with bags over their shoulders as they occupy a booth and take out study materials, “should I get drinks? Or did we come with our own?” Your voice speaks up from the chatter, smooth like honey and sweet like it too.

“Oh I just have a water but yes tea would be good” a girl responds- dark hair clipped back says, “anyone else?” To a murmur of no’s.

You walk up, hair loose, wearing pinks and blacks, “hi, can I get a green tea and then do you have matcha here?”

“We do” Zuko responds, “should I add that to the order?”

“Yes please, iced if that’s an option”

“Of course. Can I have a name for the order?”

“Yea yea, here” you say, as you give him a credit card

“Tea’s on the house for people who study” he lies— smiling as non-awkwardly as he could.

“Really? That’s amazing! Thank you”

It doesn’t take long for you to find your seat and begin typing away on your computer- decked out in stickers on the casing and a Polaroid taped to the sides, writing things down and shooting ideas off one another, “y/n”

You look up and slide your headphones off, “huh? Oh thank you Zuko” You take the tea from his hands, “Suki here”

“Thanks” She responds

Zuko continues watching you study; admiring the way you brush the hair out of your face and the way you ask friends for help or their thoughts on an answer.

Three hours later there’s a packing up and wishing of goodbyes, “suki will you wait outside for me?” You question and she nods

“Ya”

“Thanks for the tea Zuko, I’ve never had green tea that good before” You complement

“Oh— thank you. My uncle he is the mastermind behind it all— I’ve never liked tea before I let him brew me some” He responds, I smile and nod. Trying to fight the blushing rising from my cheeks

“Well— thank you again, especially for the free drinks”

“You’re welcome. Here’s a coupon” he slides it to me and I smile and wave goodbye.

“What’d ya talk about” Suki asks as we walk back to her car

“Just tea.. and I got a coupon” I smile flicking it between my fingers; I look to see a phone number written across the card and my cheeks go red, “and maybe a date”

#atla zuko #prince zuko #zuko x you #zuko x reader #prince zuko x you #zuko #avatar the last airbender #avatar

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writingbyshiloh · 7 months

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Third Time's the Charm

Request: Hii,if your request are still open can i request something for Gen V?Can you write something where Jordan and fem reader are childhood best friends and Jordan had always been in love with her but they feel insecure because they don’t know if reader will like them in both forms romantically?So when,in ep 3,Jordan dad goes like “Y/n and Jordan will be husband and wife” reader goes “Maybe we will be wife and wife”because she loves Jordan just like they are?

AN: Reader wants to be the first supe president (just to explain why they’re at the gala), I changed the timeline of the ep a tiny bit. I have another request about meeting Jordan's parents but that one might be more angsty.

CW: fem!reader, kissing, no beta, Jordan's parents are just their warning. The start is all flashbacks so I may have slipped on the tense a few times, no beta

WC: 2.0K

Jordan Li was your first kiss. Twice. The first time was in kindergarten, when they tried to kiss you and you smacked them with your Queen Mauve lunch box. Your second first kiss (the one you consider your actual first kiss) was done by you while playing truth or dare at 14. After picking a dare, you were asked to kiss the best-looking guy in the group. You shrugged and picked your best friend - Jordan.

At age six, they were there when you broke your ankle trying to see if you could fly (you couldn’t). When you did get powers, they were the first person you told.

When Jordan came out to you as bigender, you did an internet deep-dive, trying to understand as much as possible.

Jordan listened to every interaction you had with your high school crush while quietly dying inside, wanting you to be happy. When your high school boyfriend cheated on you and then dumped you for the girl he cheated with, Jordan was there, ready to sink hours into their Xbox to keep you distracted.

The worst week of your life was when you didn't speak to Jordan for 9 whole days. You got into a petty argument where you called them self-absorbed and they called you clingy. The fight snowballed into yelling arguments and ended with you receiving a cold shoulder from Jordan.

When Jordan got their wisdom teeth removed, you camped out in their room, snuggled under their duvet with them to watch Property Brothers for two days straight. You even made sure they took their painkillers on time and used ice packs.

Every fight with their parents, you were outside in your car ready to pick up Jordan to stay with you. Once you showed up at their house at 6:03 am, eyes blurry with sleep and still in pyjamas. Jordan was crying, bob haircut looked messy from sleep. You drove them to Vought-A-Burger, still half asleep and ate greasy breakfast sandwiches in your car until Jordan stopped crying.

Jordan was even your date to prom, taking photos with you in their masculine form to get their parents off their back. Once their parents were happy, you snuck them back to yours, where you stashed their prom dress.

You both even applied to God U together. Too nervous to check your acceptance, Jordan checked yours and you checked theirs. Sitting across from each other on your bed you both log in before giving the laptops to each other.

“Okay, three, two, one…” you counted down, opening Jordan’s laptop. Your eyes scanned for any promising words like congratulations, or welcome. "Accepted" was the first word your eyes caught but you need to fuck with them.

“Jord… I’m so sorry.” You start. Their face falls, and you feel like a dick for doing this. But the opportunity is too good to pass up. “That you believed me! Because you got in!”

They lunged across your bed to see what the screen says. You saw Jordan's eyes scan the same letter you just read, picking out the same words.

“You’re such an asshole!” they told you, rolling their eyes, gently hitting your arm with the back of their hand

You’ve never been shy about showering Jordan with compliments. Saved in screenshots never to see the light of day, Jordan has kept some of them.

You: OMG!!! Jordan you’re so pretty. I’m so lucky to call you my friend.

You: You’re so handsome!!! I love your hair slicked back! If she doesn’t agree you need to drop her.

You: ur a solid 9/10. Lost a point for not giving me a sip of your drink yesterday lol

Jordan Li has been in love with you since age 16. Probably earlier, if they want to admit that to themselves. You’ve only ever expressed interest in men so they kept their feelings to themselves, not wanting to make you uncomfortable, figuring it was better to have you as a friend only than not at all.

In your first year, you were even roommates. While Jordan flourished in crim, you bounced between majors before settling into politics.

Every time you brought some frat guy to your shared dorm, Jordan died inside. Trying to get over their long-standing crush, Jordan did the same.

When Jordan made number 2 on the top five, you celebrate with them. Maybe a bit too hard that night.

You were there when their ranking dropped after the death of Brink. A man you only met twice, but you would do anything for Jordan. Especially given how hard you fell for both versions of them last year.

“I’m going to try to tag team with your dad, get some points for you and keep him engaged, yeah?” You ask over your shocker. Jordan is behind you, ready to help with zipper duty for your dress.

“You don’t have to.”

You let out a small scoff. “Dude. I’m doing poli supe. Schmoozing with rich people is like half our courses. Zip me up please.”

“How long have you known Jordan? You seem to be a good couple.” The man you and Jordan's dad suckered into a conversation asks. He's sitting beside Jordan's parents, while you and Jordan are on the edge of some fancy pit or table.

“Well, these two have known each other pretty well over the years. Jordan tried to kiss her when they were kids, and she hit him with her Black Noir lunch box.”

“It was a Queen Mauve lunch box, actually.” You say with a laugh.

“And she called him ‘Jojo’ for probably the next two years out of spite.” Kayla laughs. It's a special embarrassment when your parents tell stories about your childhood. All the stories are about you but it's been so long ago you can’t remember any of it. Jordan looks worse off, slouchy posture against the banister, while you sit next to him. Part of you wants to tell him to sit up straight, but you figure you can play the grief angle better this way.

“Oh, and remember when Jordan got his wisdom teeth out? You guys were inseparable. I think I still have the photo of you two passed out watching TV!” Kayla gushes, reaching for her phone to find the photo.

“We all thought you two would be president and First Gentleman.” Dad insists. Your smile is fake and tight, knowing if Paul pulls out prom photos, you would have to quietly fling yourself out of a window.

Maybe you drank a bit too much liquid courage. Maybe the tension between them and their parents was getting to you. To give Jordan some space, you took their parents for a tour of your classes, knowing they’ll be talking to your family when they go back to Rochester.

Jordan shifting doesn’t even cause you to raise an eyebrow, the subtle sound just blurs into the background.

“Or president and First Lady.” You blurt out, four pairs of eyes darting towards you. “First supes in the Whitehouse? It would be political dynamite.”

“You like this version of Jordan?” Dad asks with bewilderment.

“Of course. I like Jordan because of how smart and driven they are. I like Jordan because of their weird sense of humour. It doesn’t matter what they look like.” you say, trying to prove it to their parents, but also to them. You’ve picked up on their crush many times, too kind to say something that would embarrass them or hurt them. It’s only recently how much you found yourself staring at fem Jordan and wanting to kiss her too.

“I’m going to go and mingle some more.” says the man, Brad or Rob maybe. You forgot his name right after you met him. His words are like a bucket of cold water was dumped over you. You don’t confess your feelings to Jordan just to Jordan, but in front of their judgy parents, and a possible donner. You need to go.

You stand and straighten out your dress.

“I’m going to go too. Other donors to talk to. Go Jordan!" You finish with an awkward laugh and even more cringy go team! gesture by yourself.

You didn't lie to Jordan and their parents. You did go and talk to other donors but it twists your stomach every time you bring up how amazing their grades are, or how skillful they are at fighting. After donor number three gives you an answer that technically was “we’ll see” but heavily implied to be "yes for Jordan” you went to hide in the bathroom. You have enough battery left on your V-phone to keep it going for most of the night. Tomorrow you can talk to Jordan and hope you don’t fuck it all up.

You barely look up when the door opens, already have done too much for the day to care who it is.

‘Hey, can we talk?” You snap to attention at the voice. Of course, you know that voice. It's Jordan, still feminine presenting.

“Fuck, Jord, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have spring that on you. I promise I’ll just go back and try to get you some votes, you’re going through a lot.” You say, in a rush to get the words out, desperate not to fuck up you’re friendship. The rim of the sink is hard against your back but you can’t help but shrink into it.

“Did you mean it?” They ask, still keeping a distance from you.

“Yeah, of course, I don’t want to ruin this friendship.”

“No, what you said in front of my parents.”

Oh right. Your confession. Fuck. It's already out there, might as well keep it going.

“I may, uh-” you curse yourself for leaving your drink outside the bathroom, wanting something in your hands to stall. “-have a crush. On you. My best friend.” You twist your hands together, wishing Jordan didn’t look so pretty. If your heart beats any faster you may go into cardiac arrest.

It's Jordan that indicates your third first kiss. It's gentle, and fast, like the second one. She pulls back quickly, but you run your fingers through her hair and pull her closer. The intensity from the first first kiss is still there, only this time you both share it. Her hand smooths up to your face, thumb stroking your cheek in a silent invitation to open your mouth. You comply, and tilt your head into her palm. Her tongue sweeps into your mouth and you can taste the champagne they were drinking.

The sound of the door opening makes you both jump.

“Stall?” You ask, voice low and hushed. You squirm out from where she has you between the sink and her. You push the door open to the nicest-looking stall, desperate to keep kissing Jordan. They follow your lead eagerly, one hand wrapped around your shoulder to keep you near.

Dipping their head, they softly kiss your jaw before moving onto your neck. You silently thank the other two women arguing in the bathroom so that your gasp goes unnoticed. Giving Jordan's hair a small tug, you pull them back up to you. The shit-eating grin they flash you makes you want to almost get caught again.

Your free hand moves to their waist, trying to get as close to them as physically possible.

You pull back slightly, wanting so desperately to get lost in the moment, but the commotion in the other stall is distracting. Plus you’re nosey.

Jordan frowns when you pull away, eyes scanning your face for something they did wrong. You shake your head and tip it over to the stall.

“The fuck?” They mouth to you, hand still around your shoulder.

You gently push Jordan against the door to give yourself space to squat down. You see two pairs of feet in the stall across the wall. You hear the voices quiet down, before the sound of someone peeing. You frown slightly, weird fetish to do at a memorial gala but you hear rumours about students into more fucked up shit.

“We should get outta here.” You whisper to Jordan.

“Weird place for our third first kiss.” Jordan whispers back. You reach around them to unlock the stall door. Third first kiss. You replay the words in your head, a warm feeling blooming in your chest.

You gently push them out of the stall, trying to keep your laughs quiet as you both scurry past the other couple in the stall.

#I read it once for spelling and flow then released it to the world #jordan li x reader #jordan li x y/n #jordan li imagine #gen v x reader #gen v x y/n #gen v imagine #whew this got out of hand #time to talk about jordan

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norrisleclercf1 · 1 month

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For Mafia!Carlos, the “you came” “You called” trend where she calls him as a last resort, not really knowing what to expect from her new husband and him being all like “I would die for you, I thought you knew?”

A/N: I'm a sucker for this trope but also for the overprotective arranged husband whose secretly always been in love with reader, and who touched you too so yep yep loving this

He was the last person you wanted to call, but right now sitting inside the police station with a busted lip and eyebrow, your jeans shredded at your knees, and shirt with blood, with purse, phone, and your wedding and engagement ring completely gone.

You couldn't call your father, he sold you to your husband, couldn't call your mother she was a useless shell of herself. No siblings to call, and no friends as they'd tell him anyways. "Ma'am, do you want to call someone?" This kid of an officer sits down next to you, hanging you an ice pack. "Can you call my husband?" You whisper, tasting iron from when you spoke. "Okay, what's his name?" The officer was kind, but young.

"Carlos Sainz," The color in the poor officer face drains hearing that and gives you a wobbly smile. "I know, I know, it'll be okay," You pat the boy's arm and he stands going right to the phone and picking it up, dialing the number. You don't listen but you can see the blood draining his entire body before he hangs up and sits down next to you.

"Here," You place the blanket on his lap and he smiles, the two of you making small talk. "Is he coming?" A part of you fully believing he didn't care one bit about you being here. You don't get an answer as the police station door swings open and men swarm the place. The young boy moves the blanket onto your lap and stands as Carlos storms in.

He was wearing an all black suit and stops seeing the officer and then seeing you. "Why the fuck aren't there medics here?" "Carlos, stop, I just want to go home." He stops, and sighs running his fingers through his hair. "Okay, okay mi corazón." He whispers and moves to your side and tries to control his rage seeing the dried blood all over you. "I fought," He looks down at you, as you wrap your arms around his waist, standing on wobbly legs.

"What, baby?" "I fought them, that's why I'm hurt. They wouldn't have hit me had I just given them, everything, but the rings..." Looking down at your bruised fingers. Carlos scuffs, "I don't care about the rings, mi corazón, I care about you. Let's go home and get you cleaned up.

"I didn't think you'd come," You whisper taking small steps as they had kicked you in the ribs. "Of course, I came, you called. We'll not really but you know what I mean," You giggle, stopping your smile when you feel fresh blood pool in your mouth.

"Thank you, Dad would've.....nevermind." Carlos hums and moves you to the back of the car and helps you in, before joining you in the back. "Carlos?" You hated to ask him this, but right now you needed comfort. "What is it, love?" Wiping the blood away you look at your husband. "Can, can you hold me? And stay with me tonight?" Carlos's eyes grow wide, but he quickly schools his face and nods.

Unbuckling you, he pulls you into his lap, where you rest your head on his shoulder, hiding your face in his neck. Carlos sighs, holding you softly yet, securely as he refused to let anyone else but him touch you.

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rreids · 24 days

Text

CLOSE • A. HOTCHNER X READER

fluff; teasing; banter; fem!reader; cuddling; a massage; crude jokes (one); mentions of oral; protected sex!; they're so into each other; exactly 2k words

an ask for my sleepover event. prompts: i like you so much, it's worrying. cuddling while the other does their work. do whatever you want. first time together.

“Aaron?” You call as you drop your things on the coffee table of his living room. “Honey?”

“In the office!” He answers and you smile to yourself, getting rid of your shoes and jacket. You take the time to grab water and put some ice in it before walking in. He looks up from his paperwork briefly and smiles.

“Thirsty?” You ask, not caring if he really is as you place the water down on a coaster by his left hand. Aaron just smiles, leaning back slightly as you crawl into his lap and lock your fingers together behind his neck as you nestle into him.

“Hi,” you whisper after a few moments of him working, tilting and craning your neck to press a kiss to the corner of his jaw.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Aaron whispers, tracing his free hand to your back, rubbing soothing shapes and patterns along your spine. “Long day?”

You nod and make a soft whining sound. “So long. I hate when we’re busy and I have to wear heels because of the clients we’re working with that day, you know that? My feet hurt.” You remember then that he must’ve had a long day too. “Though, I guess you understand. You have to talk politics. That’s like heels for the mind,” you scrunch up your nose and he chuckles.

“Silly girl,” he sighs, more to himself and the room than you. “Do you want a massage later? When I’m not busy.”

“But,” you furrow your brow and try to lean back, but his arm traps you to him as he keeps writing his report. “You had a long day too,”

“I don’t mind spending my nights off making you feel good,” he reminds you, eyes flicking to meet yours. You take his silent invitation and kiss him briefly. “I like you.”

“Not even love?” you despair, and he laughs, the rumbling of his chest setting free butterflies in your own.

“I like you a lot. Actually, I like you so much that it’s worrying,”

You beam at him, knowing this is his way of saying you mean a lot to him, make him feel out of control of his stoic persona and carefully reigned-in emotions. “Really?”

“Really, pretty girl.”

With that, you let the silence settle, curling into him. His breathing and the soft rustling of paper works almost as a lullaby, your eyes heavily lidded by the time he finishes up and closes the file, his leaning and turning to put it up jolting you back to awareness.

You make a soft whining sound.

“Shh, I know. Did you eat?” When you nod, he sighs, relieved. “Okay, let’s get you ready for bed then.”

“But what about my massage?” You sulk, and he laughs before realizing you’re being serious.

“We can do that. C’mon. Skincare, brush your teeth, get into pajamas, and then I’ll give you a massage.”

By pajamas, he means his clothes. You spend most nights at his place but aren’t officially moved in yet, and you’d taken all your clothes back to yours for washing last time, and didn’t have time to pack any for today.

“Fine,” you drag out the ‘e’, whiny and annoying. He just smiles.

It takes a lot of coaxing and kisses to get you to get ready – one as a reward each time you finish a task; one any time you decide he looks too pretty (which is often, because he’s smiling at you with soft and fond eyes); and one any time he teases or reminds you to finish up.

“Baby,” Aaron huffs out at a laugh, grabbing your shoulders and pushing you back slightly, holding you at a distance. “As much as I love your kisses — I do, really –, if you want that massage you need to hurry up.”

You scowl at him but there’s suddenly much more haste to your movements.

When you flop down on his mattress and turn expectantly to look at him, he’s shirtless. Your mouth dries and you yelp at the sight, covering your eyes. “What?” He asks, and when you peek again he’s in a pajama shirt.

“Nothing…” you mumble, trying not to sound too sulky as you realize the view is gone.

His brows raise but he says nothing, settling behind you. His fingers trace the hem of your shirt. “Can I push this up?”

You nod eagerly and he brings it up to your shoulders.

“Where hurts the most?”

“My lower back,” you complain, guiding his hand. “It’s like… I dunno. But it hurts like a bitch.”

He’s used to you trying to compare things before running out of words and whining, just smiling at you. “Okay, well, the lotion will be cold. Brace yourself.”

It is cold, and you squirm until his warm and calloused hands begin to rub it. Then, you’re deathly still, hyper-aware of his movements and the rolling press of his thumb pressing deep on a corded muscle.

You have to remind yourself to breathe, and it’s shaky when you do. Aaron doesn’t comment on it, methodically working inch by inch and muscle by muscle up your back. When his knuckle digs in by your shoulder, clearly finding a deep trigger point.

“Fuck,” you whimper.

“Too much?” He asks, beginning to pull back.

“No. Hurts. But in a good way.”

Aaron hums and presses back on the spot with a little less force, working and tugging the muscle until you feel it relaxing with the gentle slide of his hand pulling it to relax.

“Oh,” you moan, voice soft and airy. “You’re really good at this. Maybe you should be a masseuse. You’d be home more.” He doesn’t comment, moving to the same spot on the other side. “Actually, nevermind. I don’t want you touching other girls.”

Aaron laughs. “Men okay? I could think of people on my team who would love a massage.”

You pout into the mattress. “But you’re mine, you can’t do that.”

“I’m yours?”

“Mhm!” You chirp, the happy sound melding into another moan as he releases another knot. “All mine.”

Aaron smiles and kisses your shoulder. “All yours,” he agrees, voice soft.

You smile. “Aaron,”

“__,”

“Can you do my legs, too? If your hands aren’t too tired…”

“How tall were the heels you wore?” He questions, shifting quickly to give you what you want, helping you flip onto your back before pushing your knees apart slightly, just enough so that he can slip a hand under your calf and support it on his thigh to give him room to work the muscles. “You’re so tight.”

You try not to flush at the double meaning, since you know he doesn’t mean it, but you fail, squirming to close your thighs.

“Hm,” Aaron smiles, pressing slightly more firmly against the muscle, watching how the surrounding ones twitch at the sensation and force. “You’re sensitive.”

“You try wearing stilettos.” There’s no bite to your voice.

“You think I’d look good in them?”

You consider for a moment. “Yeah. As long as you were confident and didn’t slouch, you’d look hot.”

Aaron laughs easily. “Well, thank you for the vote of confidence, baby,”

You moan softly in lieu of response as he begins working your thighs. It’s so close to where you’re starting to ache to feel him, and it’s also just a really nice massage.

When he lets his hand trace the hem of your shorts (his boxers that you’re wearing as shorts, to be specific), you jolt. “What are you doing?”

“Am I wrong in thinking you want it?”

“No…” you mumble, suddenly getting shy. “But we haven’t…”

“It’s okay, __, we don’t have to.”

“I didn’t say I don’t want to,” you whine, sitting up and curling your legs under you. “I just don’t want it to be like some happy-ending massage porno.”

He snorts. “Silly girl,” it’s the same teasing from earlier, but his voice has dropped and his eyes are more hooded as he looks at you. “You want this?”

You nod before whispering a soft “yeah”, melting into him as his arms encircle you and he kisses you deeply. It’s warm and heady, deep, passionate, hungry kisses that are infuriatingly slow, savoring your taste and plushness of your lips. He leans you back into the mattress with the kisses, body crowding you to flatten to the sheets.

“Aaron, don’t tease,” you whisper. “We can try that another time.”

His lips quirk up into a smile before he brings the kisses down your neck, and you drop your head back to give him more room. He tugs your shirt off the rest of the way, from where it’s still rucked up your torso partially from the massage.

“So pretty,” the words rush out before you can even begin to worry about his reaction, lowering himself to roll your nipples between his fingers and leave kisses on your flesh. “And all mine.”

You smile at the way his words mirror yours from earlier, but you can’t form speech as his fingers trace you over the boxers. It’s soft and delicate, curious and exploratory as your hips cant for more friction and twitch under him.

“Can I?” He tugs the waistband and you eagerly kick out of them the second he tugs again. He laughs at your excitement, biting his lip as he drinks in the sight of you splayed on his bed.

“I want to taste you.”

You whine at the idea, turned on and also frustrated. “Next time.”

“You don’t want it?”

“I do, but ‘m so empty, Aaron,” you whine, hoping it’ll spur him. “Need to feel full.”

“I’ve got you,” he reassures, yanking off his shirt. The view is just as good as before.

You help him pull off the boxers, swallowing at the sight of his cock. So pretty, just like the rest of him. Exactly what you needed.

“Please,” you whine as he shuffles closer and you wrap your legs behind his back, locking him against you.

Aaron pauses and reaches over you to the nightstand, quickly and carefully opening the condom and rolling it down his length. “Gotta treat you right.” He guides himself against you, studying your heaving chest and blown out eyes.

“Well, you can do that by fucking me—”

Aaron cuts off your complaint with a smooth roll of his hips into you, the words dying on your tongue as you sigh happily.

“You know I’ll do whatever you want,” Aaron tells you, as if he’s not fucking into you with slow, purposeful, and powerful thrusts that have your walls fluttering around him. “Tell me to fuck you, I’ll go until I can’t.”

You swallow. “That a promise?”

“For next time,” he teases, head falling back with a silent moan as he picks up his pace. He brings his thumb to your clit, and he’s just as good at working it as he is working knots out of your muscles.

“God,” you whine. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Aaron asks, slowly going a little harder and angling his hips until you keen. “There we go…” he murmurs to himself and your breaths hitch like little sobs in your throat.

“So good,” you affirm, squirming as you get closer and closer to the edge.

“Give it to me. Cum around me,” Aaron orders, and you whine, muscles all quivering and tensing as you fall over the edge.

Your hazy mind can still process his groans and flushed, sweat-slick skin, and the stutter to his hips as he fills the condom and collapses next to you after tying and tossing it into the trash. But you can’t bring yourself to talk, still gasping for air as you come down.

“Hey, __?” He asks and you hum, breath slowly evening out. “I like you,”

You scoff at him, “so much it’s worrying?”

“Yeah, actually.” You can hear the smile in his voice, and you roll to your side to kiss it away.

“Well, I feel the same way about you,” you whisper.

really love how the banter and dynamic came out in this one... the prompts selected worked together wonderfully

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