#i was cleaning up from dinner and then in the shower! i wasn't even away from it for an hour!

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Imagine # 1,062

Gif NOT mine.

Year posted - 2024

Rating - SFW

Reading time (roughly) - 5 minutes

I've been playing a bunch of the Ghostbusters game, and it honestly drives me crazy how messy it is at the firehouse. So this imagine way born from that pet peeve of mine. Enjoy. :)

Walking up to the second floor of the firehouse, (Y/n) sat down her bag, looking around the large room she sighed softly. The place was a mess, as always. She understood perfectly well why the place wasn't always clean, they guys were busy, always busy. Especially after Peck shut down the containment unit, and released all the ghosts they had captured over the past few months. Walking into the kitchen and dining area, she began picking up loose trash and tossing it into the nearby trashcan. The trash was nearly half full to begin with, and after a few minutes of working, it was totally full. She pulled the bag out of the bin, tied it up, and sat it aside.

As she was putting a new bag into the bin, the boys came wandering up the stairs. Funny she hadn't even heard them pull in downstairs. They all greeted her tiredly as they passed by, going straight to their quarters. (Y/n) continued to clean up the littered trash, and the expired food from the fridge. A short while later, Ray come back into the common room. His hair still dripping from his shower. The others having showered and gone straight to bed. "You know you don't have to do all of this (Y/n)." Ray said as he assisted in gathering up the dirty dishes. "Well I am an assistant, and I assist where I'm needed." She smiled softly at her favorite ghostbuster.

"Yeah I guess, but this is our mess." He shrugged, smiling bashfully. "I'm happy to help Ray, besides you guys have your hands full as it is. Speaking of which, go to bed, I've got this covered." She insisted as she took the dishes from his hands, placing them beside the sink, and then preparing the water. "No I'm alright, let me help." He argued, standing beside her stacking the dishes accordingly. "Ray you've been working all day, and you're exhausted. Go get some rest." She smiled at him, playfully bumping her shoulder into his. "I'm not going anywhere." He stated in a playfully serious tone. "You're stubborn, you know that?" She smiled at him, but stopped arguing over the matter any further.

"People usually say that about Peter." Ray joked, effectively making (Y/n) snort with laughter. "Yeah and he definitely is, but apparently so are you." She mused, making him smile. "I wash and rinse, you dry and put them away?" (Y/n) offered as she set to work on scrubbing the dishes. "I think I can manage that." Ray hummed as he retrieved a clean dishtowel. "Well I sure hope so, we've got plenty to do here." She teased as she began rinsing the first sink of dishes. Once the dishes were finished, they picked up the last bits of trash, swept the floor, and then began hauling the trash bags out to the dumpster out back. "I'll get some groceries tomorrow morning." (Y/n) stated as they hauled out the last two bags.

"I'll go with you." Ray added as he tossed his bag in the dumpster, he then took (Y/n)'s and threw it out as well. "You don't have to do that, I can manage alright." She blushed lightly as Ray held open the door open for her. "I know... But I want to." Ray smiled bashfully, following her back upstairs. "Well in that case, I'd love the company." She mused as they stood at the top of the stairs. "Now you should go to bed, you need some sleep." She stated as she grabbed her bag. "I'd rather spend some more time with you." Ray admitted, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "And do what Dr. Stantz?" (Y/n) asked as she peered at him, their chests nearly touching from how close she'd moved towards him.

"M-maybe get some dinner? I-I haven't actually eaten since lunch." Ray stammered a little, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Home cooked, or takeout?" She asked. "Considering how late it is, how about takeout?" He asked, trying to sound relaxed, but looking anything but. "Sounds like a date, come on you can stay with me tonight, wouldn't want to disturb the guys." She smiled as his blush depend. "A d-date?" Ray stammered again, following her back downstairs. "If you want it to be." (Y/n) turned to him on the landing of the stairs. "I-I." He cleared his throat. "Do you want it to be?" He asked, again trying to act casual. "I'd love nothing more." She admitted, blushing a bit herself.

"Really!?" Ray beamed in visible excitement, again clearing his throat and trying to play it cool. "I mean... Then it's a date." He smiled charmingly, making (Y/n) giggle softly. "Good." She mused, leaning towards his face to kiss his cheek. Ray blushed deeper, following after her like a lovesick puppy. "Do you think..." Ray trailed off as they walked to (Y/n)'s car. "What is it Ray?" She asked curiously. "Would you maybe want to go on an actual date sometime? Like to a restaurant." He asked. "How about a picnic in the park? Restaurants are always so busy, and a picnic is more intimate." (Y/n) countered. "A picnic... Yeah that sounds really nice." Ray smiled at the thought. "Saturday maybe?" She offered, making Ray beam at her again. "It's a date." He hummed happily.

Buy me a coffee sometime? ☕️

(Click the coffee for my Kofi link, IT'S NOT NECESSARY BTW.)

#imagine #gif imagine #extended #reader insert #fluff #ray stantz #ray stantz x reader #Dr Raymond Stantz #Ray stantz imagine #ghostbusters #ghostbusters x reader #ghostbusters imagine #sfw #dan aykroyd #dan aykroyd x reader #Dan aykroyd characters #Dan aykroyd imagine #Dr. Ray Stantz #Ray Stantz x you #Ray Stantz x y/n

[quilleth]

i HATE when windows decides "teehee you're not at your computer to deny the update so we're updating anyway" and restarts my computer without my permission, thus losing progress i had on open documents >:( i said NO you piece of shit! also gtfo with your bing search bar. keep your ai shit FAR away from me or i'm going to find a way to go back to windows 7 i swear to god

#quilleth in real life #no document restore didn't bring back the latest additions i had which were sadly all done on the computer #so i can't even compare it to a handwritten version because it was going well typing for the scene #and now i can't remember what i had and i'd liked it T_T #as if sundays didn't already suck ass enough #i was cleaning up from dinner and then in the shower! i wasn't even away from it for an hour!

[bookishdreamer28]

Giving Gojo the silent treatment

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It all started because of a fight you had the previous day. He's been working so hard lately, that the only thing you wanted was to make his day, somehow better by making dinner, having some good time for yourselves, drink wine and many more.

___________________________________________

It was 9 p.m and you had already set the table, with Satoru's and yours fave dinner. You were all dolled up and waiting for your fave boy's arrival.

When you heard the lock on the door, you instantly stood up from the couch and when to greet him. You could already see his small frown on his face and you wanted nothing more but to make it go away right away.

"Satoru my love, welcome ba-"

"Yeah yeah nice to see you too." He stepped back from your hug and walked away. Just walked away.

You knew how hard it was to be a sorcerer, but it wasn't necessary for him to act his way. You tried to brush it off, but the sting was still there. It hurts that he avoided hugging you.

You followed him to your room and saw him getting in the bathroom, ready to take a shower. You sighed and decided to sit on the bed and wait for him.

Once he got out, he didn't say anything to you and went straight to your closet.

He could feel your eyes on him but he still didn't say a thing.

"Uhm, I have dinner ready love. I made our fave! Since I know how much you liked it last time, I thought about making it again and after dinner I have planned an amazing night for ourselves, since I know you've been working s-"

"I don't feel like eating right now. I thing I'm going to bed early after I drink some tea." He said in a monotone voice.

"Really? Oh...but baby I just wanted to make you feel better. I know things are not ok out there but in here I want you feel safe and good-"

"CAN'T YOU JUST STOP TALKING ALREADY? I told you. I'm not in the mood for ANYHTING but sleep." He turned to you looking pissed. You absolutely understood him but the way he spoke to you is definitely Not ok.

"Well you don't need to be such a jerk you know. I just wanted to take care of you and this is how you talk to me?"

"Whem you're being pushy, what do you expect me to do? I had the toughest week ever, I need sleep and I need you to leave me alone." He said raising his voice a bit.

You tried so hard not let tears fall down. It broke your heart knowing that you were basically a burden to him now.

You felt your hands trembling and took a deep breath. Once you closed your eyes, you felt them. Tears were rolling down your cheeks. But you didn't really care.

Satoru didn't notice your tears since he truned away from you, to make tea.

After you calmed a little, you changed to your pajamas and went to collect the food from the table.

You saw satoru watching tv while drinking his tea, and you felt anger rising up again. The fact that he was so chill with all this made you so mad. You had many tough weeks too. You went through so much bullshit too. And you had bad days too. But you never thought, not even once, take it out on Satoru.

You cleaned the table and put the food in the fridge for tomorrow. You felt so exhausted. You went in yours and Satoru's bed, to take a blanket and a pillow, since you pretty sure he doesn't want to sleep with you.

Satoru was washing his mug and he didn't saw you when you went to take your place on the couch. With not more words exchanged, Satoru left the kitchen and went straight to your bedroom.

And without noticing, you started sobbing.

....

The next morning, Satoru woke up and when he saw you weren't next to him, he panicked. He got up alarmed and went in the living room.

"Y/N!? Sweetheart where are y-" when his eyes fell on your curled up figure, he released a breath he felt he was holding for too long. He thought about yesterday and immigrated felt like he wanted the ground to open a wide hole, and swallow him in.

He approached silently and crouched down next to you. He raised his hand and took a small strand of your hair and placed it behind you ear. He kissed yoyr forehead and stayed there for a while. He felt your body stirr and lookedat you carefully. You slowly opened your eyes and when you saw Satoru hovering above you, you frowned.

"Y/N baby, why did you sleep here? Didn't you get cold? Are you feeling cold now? Cause I'm going to make you tea and some breakfast for you to eat baby." He whispered.

You sat a little, rubbing your eyes. And then stood up and left, leaving Satoru there. He watched you walking away till you disappeared in the bathroom. He rubbed hos forehead thinking how much he messed up and cursed himself.

.....

The next morning, Satoru was in the kitchen making breakfast. He was humming your fave song, while making eggs and puring some juice on your glass. The smell woke you up and when you reached the kitchen, you stopped in your tracks. You wanted to smile at the image, but you couldn't forget what happened yesterday. You opened the fridge and grabbed one bottle of water and went back to the couch, grabbing your book with you. He felt his hwart breaking because the onky thing he wanted was to feel your warm body pressed against his. He wanted your kisses. He wanted you, moee than anything else. He looked at you and turned his back to you again, not wanting you to see his tears.

....

"Hey baby, how about we watch this series you talked to me about last week? You said season 2 is out, so I thought about watching it together. I brought snacks, sodas, i have your fave blanket aaand hugs!" He said cheerfully. But when he saw you not paying him any attention, his smiled dropped. You were laughing at a video you were watching. Oh how much he missed this sound. And how much he wished was the one making you laugh like this.

.....

That night, you returned home from a coffee with Shoko and decided to take a shower. After that, you were ready to to watch your fave series on the couch and then go to sleep. Satoru saw you there, and he started walking to you. When you heard his footsteps, you rolled your eyes and pretended to be asleep.

He sat on the floor next to the couch and stared at you with those blue eyes.

"Baby, I-" he felt like his throat was close. He couldn't speak. His voice was hoarse from crying.

You turned your head away, because you couldn't take it seeing him that way. But the fact that he hurted you with his choice of words, was something that made you very upset.

"I'm so so so freaking sorry my love. I messed up so badly and I know saying sorry won't change the fact that I hurt you. But I want you to know that you mean the whole world to me." He voice was shaking his fingers reached to touch you. He needed to feel you so badly.

You looked at him and listened carefully to what he had to say.

Once he saw your eyes beautiful eyes looking at him, he felt so relieved. He missed you so much.

"Please baby, please forgive me. I know I'm in no place to even ask that after the way I spoke to you, but I can't take this anymore. Being this close to uu and not having you pains me. It pains me so damn much." He felt his eyes sting with tears.

You cold expression turned to a sad one, and you felt like hugging him so tight, but you were still unsure of what to do now.

Satoru's head dropped to the floor and he rubbed his eyes trying to not let anymore tears roll down.

"Oh Toru." You whispered. At the sound, Saotru looked at you, woth widen eyes.

"Baby, I- it pained me so much seeing you so upset and cold. Remember when we promised that we will be each other's anchors, and that we'll talk about anything that is bothering us? Well, you didn't do it. You just let your anger speak for you. And it was messed up."

You rested your right hand, on his softly.

"But I love you too. And this will never change. But please, mext time just talk to me ok? Of course there will be days that something will upset us and ruin our moods, but at the end day, all that matters is that we're each other's home." You rubbed his cheek softly, wiping his tears away.

"Can I please hug you?" He asked with a low voice.

"Of course baby." You moved first and he caught you in his arms fast. He felt alive again. And so did you. That was all you needed.

"Now, how about we watch my series and eat something to cheer us up hm?" You asked smiling, and leaned to leave a soft kiss on his lips. When you tried to pull away, he grabbed your face and kissed you more. And harder.

Well now you know that you won't be watching anything.

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Here's a new Gojo post caused missed writing something with him!!

Thank you for reading ♡♡

all rights reserved. please do not copy, modify, repost, translate, or claim my content as yours.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #anime #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #jjk gojo #jujutsu satoru #jujutsu kaisen satoru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk satoru #gojo x reader fluff #satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #anime x reader

[heich0e]

suna's parents divorced when he was eight.

he doesn't remember a lot of the finer details as he's gotten older, mostly just that there used to be a lot of yelling, but he does remember the two piles of belongings that stacked up in the empty living room of his childhood home: one consisting of his father's and his own, and the other comprised of his mother's and his little sister's. their entire life, their entire family, packed up into cardboard and then divided down the middle.

the apartment he moved into with his father was always too quiet. it was in aichi, far enough away from where he spent the first decade of his life that he didn't have to be reminded of it every time he left the house, but since his father worked so much it still left him with plenty of time to think. to grieve. though maybe he didn't recognize it as that at the time. he played video games his father bought for him after school. ate convenience store bentos or whatever leftovers were set aside for him in the fridge for dinner. he put himself to bed at night. it wasn't a bad life, though maybe a bit lonely.

he was scouted to play for inarizaki when he was 14.

the lonely apartment turned into a lively dorm. he had new friends (his teammates) to play video games with. his convenience store bentos were replaced with hot meals from the meal hall. the loneliness of the apartment in aichi was a distant memory, but still lingered.

"i'm home."

rintarou drops his training bag in the genkan as he toes off his shoes, calling into the apartment to announce his return.

"welcome home!" you call back from further in the apartment, and the sound makes him smirk a little to himself.

you've been coming over to his place a lot lately, ever since he gave you his spare key. he's not upset about this in the slightest, but it doesn't mean he won't take every possible opportunity to tease you for it. he plans how he's going to make fun of you as he pads into his home towards the sound of your voice. he almost has it all planned out—his delivery on the very tip of his tongue—when he falters to a stop.

"how was your day?" you ask him without looking up from what you're doing.

and suddenly, anything rintarou may have wanted to say—joke or otherwise—is beyond him.

he watches as you set a plate of food down on the already full table just off his little kitchen. the food that covers the surface is still hot enough that steam curls up into the air above it, its preparation perfectly timed to his arrival home. his apartment is warm, and smells good, and there's music playing from your cellphone on the other side of the room that you must have been listening to while you cooked.

his chest feels tight.

you turn to look at him when he doesn't respond to your question.

"rin?" you ask again, a lilt of worry in your tone. "you okay?"

"what's all this?" he manages to ask, nodding towards the table where the meal you prepared is still waiting.

"oh, i've been craving my mom's recipe for the past few days, i just thought i'd make it for dinner," you say, tugging at your fingers nervously. your entire countenance is a bit different now, strained like you're worried you've done something wrong. "hope that's okay?" your words lift at the end like a question.

rintarou's never seen so much food on his table. can't remember the last time he even sat there to eat a meal—let alone a home cooked one. his face feels hot, and his eyes sting, and he just can't bring himself to look at you.

"yeah," he says, and if you notice how his voice is a bit croaky, you're nice enough not to tease him about it. "'course it's okay."

you smile, and you look relieved. "wash your hands then, it's getting cold."

you eat your dinner together and talk about your days. you take a shower while he cleans up the dishes. you fall asleep tangled up together on the couch with a movie playing in the background.

his home isn't quiet anymore. he isn't lonely.

and it's thanks to you.

#suna x reader #suna rintarou x reader #hq drabble #hq writing

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Imagines: I’m On Fire*

————————————————————————-

Summary: When Joe mistakenly leaves his JB9 iced-out chain while at an away game, you bless him with a little photoshoot while you're hours away in Cincinnati.

Warnings: Smut

Paring: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine universe: Just the Two of Us

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*No specific date for this fic!*

(y/n’s pov)

Joe had just left the house for an away game, and due to some work-related stuff, I wasn't able to go with him.

The pouty expression he gave me when we were standing at the front door just a little bit ago made me want to climb into his bag. His lower lip sticking out was oddly convincing, along with his blue eyes.

“Joe, you know I can't go, baby.” - you

“Please… I want you to go with me.” - Joe whined

“I wish I could go too, but I can't, J.” - you

Joe whined once again, but this time, it made me roll my eyes. My annoyance didn't last long, though, as he hunched over and laid his head on my shoulder.

“I love you.” - Joe mumbled

His face being pressed into my neck made his words muffled, but it was oddly adorable.

“I love you too, but if you don't leave now, you're going to be late.” - you

I laughed when he stood up straight and groaned.

“I'm gonna be so lonely by myself in my hotel room tonight.” - Joe

“We can Facetime, goofball.” - you

“Not the same.” - Joe whined

“Okay, enough whining. Goodbye, Joe.” - you

Joe stared at me for a few seconds, trying to come up with a response that didn't show how annoyed he really was.

“Bye…” - Joe mumbled

I stood up on my tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Joe’s lips. When I pulled away, I giggled at the look of his flushed cheeks.

“Love you, sheisty.” - you

“Love you too.” - Joe grinned

——

Hours later, I was bored out of my mind, all alone in this big house.

I had cleaned almost the entire house, scrolled through Pinterest, made a dinner recipe I had pinned, and finished a show I had been binging - Fool Me Once.

There was pretty much nothing to do.

All I was doing right now was lying in bed, watching the ceiling fan turn, and feeling kinda sad when I got a whiff of Joe’s scent off of his pillow.

I missed him, and I saw him just hours ago.

That's what happens when your boyfriend turns into your best friend, I guess.

Joe’s game wasn't till tomorrow, but they'd probably just landed at their destination.

Maybe I should text him?

After thinking about it for a few minutes, I made up my mind and texted Joe.

hiiii

Ew, no. Sounds desperate.

What am I even talking about? I've been with this man for six years.

I had almost deleted my message, but Joe answered before I could.

HIIII! 😁

He's such a dork, I thought to myself with a giggle.

Wyd?

Nothinggg, hbu??

Do I tell the truth or make a lie to seem productive? In the end, I told the truth.

Missing you.

My heart warmed at Joe’s message back.

I miss you too. ☹️

Are you at your hotel yet?

It took Joe a few minutes to answer, but his reasoning was ironic.

Just got back from checking in actually. Imma head up to my room, take a shower, and then ft you.

Okay, I'll talk to you then! 🫶

Talk to ya then, I LOVE YOU! 🥰

I hearted his message and than sent the sentiment back.

Love you more, baby. 😘

The conversation ended after Joe’s simple but butterfly-inducing text.

Not fuckin’ possible.

——

We were on Facetime for way longer than we should have, but neither of us cared.

The call ended with the usual “I love you more” back-and-forth playful argument.

Joe won in the end, and I can't say I’m surprised because he always did.

After the call ended, I was just lying in bed, my head on Joe’s pillow, just to smell his scent.

I got bored eventually and decided to play around in the closet. Joe always forbade me from trying on his chains, but he wasn't here.

My eyes immediately widened with excitement as I opened the top drawer on Joe’s side of our walk-in closet.

Everything was cleared out except one chain, he probably took them all with him to have options for his fit tomorrow.

“Damn, this is heavy.” - you mumbled

It was the JB9 Nike check chain Joe wore for the AFC Championship in 2022.

One of my personal favorites out of his collection but too iconic to be worn again.

God, he looked so hot that day.

I stared at myself in the mirror, the chain of my boyfriend’s initials and number adorning my neck.

That's when I got the idea.

——

Settling into my bed for the night, I grabbed my phone and giggled to myself as I looked through the pictures recently taken in my camera roll.

Nothing but black lace and that iced-out chain.

——

Next Day

Joe won his game, and sure, I was happy to see him win, but being miles away from him and unable to celebrate with him put a damper on my mood.

I watched the game by myself in the living room, and then proudly watched his post-game conference.

Just a minute after Joe left the media room, I received a text from him.

Did you watch the game?

Of course. Watched your conference too, baby.

Joe didn’t answer for a few minutes, and I thought he might've gone to take his postgame shower, but his text back made me laugh.

I just got made fun of because I was blushing from your text. “You texting yo girl?”

What did you say back? 😂

I proudly said yes. 😁

A few seconds passed before another text vibrated my phone.

Hey, I gotta go shower, though. We're set to get home late tonight, so don't wait up on me.

What if I want to?

You'll wake up with me next to you in the morning either way, so no need to wait for me to get back.

He was right, so I left him alone to go shower.

——

It was around ten o'clock, and Joe had texted me just a little bit ago, saying they were on the bus to the airport.

Out of nowhere, with no context or caption with it, I sent Joe my little experiment earlier.

Attachment: 10 images

When I was left alone with Joe’s chain earlier, I took a little photo shoot with some black lace lingerie and Joe’s chain.

He'd usually take a power nap on his way to the plane, so I was surprised when his response was quick.

Joe sent a picture of himself with his eyes wide and mouth dropped open in shock.

The silly reaction picture made me giggle, but I had no idea that Joe had just pulled his bag onto his lap while on the bus in an attempt to hide the stirring between his legs.

Fucking shit, y/n. I'm getting so hard right now that I might have to rub one out on the plane.

No. 😘

Wdym, no?

How do I word this?

You always get pissed when I get off without you, how about a taste of your own medicine?

I don't get pissed…

Joe, honey.

Please, baby.

No.

Joe sighed and put his phone on his chest, discreetly slipping his hand down his sweatpants to rearrange the erection in his boxers. He's so hard just from the sight of nothing but lingerie and his initials in the form of diamonds on your body.

He so wished he was with you, inside you.

——

When Joe got home, it was really late.

You were already sleeping, so when Joe slipped into the bedroom he made sure to be quiet.

Joe stood there for a few seconds, just admiring how peaceful you looked while sleeping.

A small smile found its way onto his face when he noticed you were wearing his t-shirt and snuggled onto his pillow instead of yours.

After staring for a lot longer than he anticipated, Joe put his bag down and took his sweatshirt off before crawling into bed beside you.

You stirred for a bit, feeling the presence of someone else near you. After moving around for a bit, you were met with a hard chest, but you knew it all too well.

Joe grinned to himself when you snuggled into him, your face against his pec. He ran his fingers through your hair, and soon, you were peacefully sleeping again.

Feeling tired but unable to sleep, Joe discreetly grabbed his phone to see the messages he wasn't able to answer on the plane and his drive home.

You sent him a video?

Joe made sure his volume was down before pressing play on the video. His eyes went wide when he was met with the sight of you fingering yourself.

All at once, Joe’s heart rate picked up, he started sweating, and his cock stirred in his sweatpants.

He didn't need volume to know you were moaning his name with each thrust of your fingers. Joe was able to read your lips.

The sight of your head thrown back, bare chest, and your sweet heat swallowing your fingers had Joe fully erect in a matter of a minute.

He needed you badly.

Joe can admit he was thinking with his dick and not his brain when he shook you awake. In his defense, most of his blood supply was in the wrong head.

“Joey?” - you mumbled

“Shit- sorry I woke you up…” - Joe

“I missed you…” - you

His heart fluttered, and he hoped you wouldn't shift around and feel him. Please just go back to sleep.

In all honesty, Joe felt guilty waking you up with his sexual needs in mind. He felt horrible and selfish.

“Missed you too, baby.” - Joe

You moved around and Joe’s eyes went wide. Please don't feel it. Please don't feel it.

Abruptly, you paused your shifting and looked up at Joe’s face. Maybe she just found a comfortable spot?

It was hard to make out Joe’s features in the dark, but you could see his piercing blue eyes easily.

Unbeknownst to Joe, you'd felt his hard-on as soon as he got it, but you wanted to mess with him, make him beg for it.

Slowly, you reached your hand out and palmed his bulge. Joe bit his lower lip to stop an audible reaction as you started rubbing him.

“He missed me too, huh?” - you giggle

“Fuck- so much.” - Joe

“Take your pants off, Joe.” - You

Joe shed his pants and boxers off faster than the speed of light, all because his girl asked.

Now that he was completely free from restraint, Joe got even harder, and he didn't think that was possible.

You spit into your hand and firmly grasped his cock, a plan forming in your mind as you started to jerk him off.

Joe was a groaning mess, relishing in the feel of your hand around his length because he'd needed this for days.

Precum was beading at Joe’s tip, so you maneuvered yourself around to take him into your mouth.

“Sh-it.” - Joe moaned

He was close, so close.

“Baby- I'm gonna… cum!” - Joe

You pulled off of him, trying to follow your plan of edging him until he couldn't help but beg for you to finish him off, but Joe was too close to stop his inevitable orgasm.

With a loud moan, Joe shot his load onto your face, some making it into your mouth.

Both of you were surprised when it happened, looking at each other with wide eyes.

“I- I'm sorry…” - Joe

“No, don't be.” - you

You reached out and put a hand on his chest, rubbing comforting circles on it.

He grabbed a tissue off of his nightstand and wiped his cum off of your face.

“That was kinda embarrassing…” - Joe

“Why?” - you

Your voice was soft, a little sad yourself that Joe felt embarrassed.

“I don't know, I couldn't stop it from happening, but it happened so fast. Like under three minutes? That's embarrassing.” - Joe

“Joe, don't be embarrassed. How long you last doesn't matter to me at all, I just wanna make you feel good.” - you

He nodded but bit the insides of his cheeks.

“I think it's kinda hot that I can get you off that fast. Makes me feel good about myself.” - you

“Really? You don't think it's funny or embarrassing?” - Joe

“No, baby.” - you

You leaned up and pressed a big kiss to Joe’s lips, one of his legs slotting between yours, causing you to grind down onto his thigh.

“Mmm, Joey baby.” - you moaned

“That's it.” - Joe

——

Next Morning

You woke up with a grin on your face as you replayed last night's events in your mind.

Joe had gotten you off twice with his fingers and tongue before he filled you up with his thick cock.

In the back of his mind, he was still feeling a little self-conscious about his first orgasm of the night, but he wouldn't let it show.

When you two were in the shower cleaning up, you could tell something was on Joe’s mind and that something was what had happened earlier.

Without saying anything, you dropped to your knees when his back was to you. He turned around and looked down at you, his dick stirring to life at the all-too-familiar position.

Despite the fact you two had just gone four rounds, Joe’s craving for you was never-ending.

You'd slowly reached out to stroke him, and you finished him off with your mouth.

He manhandled you back to your feet before pressing you against the shower wall.

“If you want me to stop, I will, but you started this.” - Joe

The feel of his thick length against your behind, and his hands holding you in place was getting you worked up all over again.

“Fuck me, Joey.” - you

You two ended the night giggling in bed as you counted up the number of orgasms shared between you two that night.

“Four for me, four for you, gah-lee!” - Joe

“I’m not gonna be able to walk tomorrow morning.” - you

“Fuck I might even have a limp.” - Joe

You were pulled out of your fantasies when Joe walked into the bedroom. Toes curled at the sweet sight of him.

Joe wore nothing but a bashful smile, a pair of sweatpants, and raging bedhead.

“Hi.” - you smiled

“Hi. How'd you sleep?” - Joe

“Good. Get in bed with me?” - you

He did as you asked and curled up in bed beside you, pulling you into his chest in the process.

“Where were you?” - you

“Uh… nowhere…” - Joe

You sat up and looked at him, giving him a skeptical look as you narrowed your eyes at him.

Joe sighed and broke your eye contact.

“I was doing something downstairs. It was supposed to be a surprise after you got ready, but you can come downstairs now.” - Joe

You excitedly jumped out of Joe’s arms and ran out of the bedroom, your hand grabbing his as he followed you.

When you two got downstairs, you saw the dining table set up like a date. Breakfast on both of the plates and a bouquet of roses between them.

Joe walked away from you for a second and grabbed a rose.

He walked back up to you and held the flower in front of his bare chest.

“Go on a date with me?” - Joe

You grinned at your boyfriend so big that your cheeks hurt.

“Of course.” - you

Joe handed the single rose to you, and you stood up on your tiptoes to place a kiss on his smooth cheek.

“Thank god, woulda been really awkward if you said no.” - Joe

“I'd never say no to you.” - you laughed

The blush on his cheeks went deep, almost to the shade of the rose he gave you.

You spent the rest of the morning laughing with the handsome man you loved so deeply, wondering about how you got so lucky, and thinking about your future with him.

You were so grateful to have a man you could laugh with, share secrets with, tell all the drama to, and have intense intimate moments with. Sometimes, all within the same day or hour.

It was scary to realize how much of yourself you put in Joe’s hands, but you trusted him more than anything.

The sweet thoughts and realizations were swirling in your mind and making you smile. You'd been staring out of the window, but your thoughts were abruptly interrupted…

*BURP*

Your wide eyes snapped over to Joe, who was holding a hand over his mouth and shared the same wide-eyed look.

“Sorry, didn't expect it to be that loud.” - Joe laughed

“Gosh, I love you.” - you laughed along with him

————————————————————————-

Authors note: GOT IT OUT BEFORE MONDAY! 😆

Request for this fic;

Hope you enjoyed! ❤️❤️

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joey b #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow smut

[pedros-frozen-pizza]

Don't Tell Sarah

Pairing: fem!reader x no outbreak!joel miller

Description: You're visiting family on your spring break when you make an unexpected reunion with your best friend's dad, Joel.

Warnings: MINORS DNI! This post is 18+

No outbreak, age gap (reader in early 20's, Joel in early 50's), unprotected p in v, pet names (no use of y/n), fingering, cream pie, squirting

Word Count: 3k

As your plane lands, you quickly switch your phone off of airplane mode to check your texts. Your brother is supposed to pick you up, but he always forgets these things. 

‘Are you here??’, you quickly text him as you start to gather your belongings.

Before you stand up, you remember to text your best friend and roommate, Sarah, that you've made it safely. 

You make your way off the plane and into the terminal to head towards baggage claim. When you finally exit the airport, you see him, your brother who you haven't seen in months. He somehow grew a beard. 

“Jeez, took you long enough to get out here,” he pokes. “They made me move my car twice.” You give him a quick side hug before he takes your bag and loads it into his trunk.  

The drive was long, between the Austin Airport and your childhood home, but it was nice to catch up on all the family drama you missed while away at college.  It's your junior year, and this is the first time you've come back to see your family. Most of your classmates are on beaches in Miami, or taking breaks in Italy, but this is how you chose to spend your spring break. 

A text from Sarah snaps you away from the conversation. 

‘So glad you're safe! When you have time, don't forget to bring that gift to my dad!’ 

You already almost forgot. Sarah had crafted a mug for her father, detailed with a large owl on the side of it. She was a talented artist, and was excited to gift this to her father when she saw him next. Unfortunately, she had to stay behind this time to finish up a project for her internship. 

‘I'll make sure he gets it!’ you type back and set your phone down.

It had been years since you had seen Joel. You grew up with Sarah as your best friend, with many late nights at her house. It'll be good to see him again. Just as good as seeing your own family even. 

You make it back to your family's house and exchange greetings with your parents. Your mom has planned out your entire week while you're there. Sunday brunch, dinner with extended family on Tuesday, and so forth. It'll be good to reconnect and spend time together after being apart for so long. 

Monday rolls around, and your mom only had plans for the morning. It was getting to be late in the afternoon when you decide to head over to Joel's. 

“Can I borrow your car?” you ask your brother. “I have to go bring a gift over to Joel from Sarah.” 

He shrugs and throws the keys to you. “Don't wreck it,” he jokes as you head out the door. 

Joel's house wasn't far from your family's, but with rush hour starting, the traffic was awful. When you finally make it, you find yourself nervously walking up the steps. You've never felt this flustered around him before. Perhaps it's just that it's been so long? That must be it.

You knock a few times before he answers. 

“No! Is that really you?” he exclaims when the door finally opens. “Sarah said you'd be by this week, and I'm so glad she was right! Look how beautiful you are.” He gives your body a quick scan, but you can't quite tell his intentions with it. His hair had grayed out a bit, but otherwise really has not aged at all since you last saw him. 

“I just got off work and was about to shower,” he starts. “But if you want to come have a seat, I'll just be 10 minutes.”

You make your way into their front sitting room. Everything is exactly as you remember it from your childhood. Sure, he's gotten new furniture, but the pictures and decorations are exactly as Sarah had left them. 

He walks back down the stairs with a clean pair of jeans and a dark gray t shirt on. His hair messy from a quick towel dry, and his scent strong from his woodsy cologne, you forget for a split second that he's your friend's dad; no having thoughts like this about him! 

“You want some coffee?” He gestures towards the kitchen.

Of course, how did you already forget what you were here for? “Coffee sounds great!” You follow him into the kitchen. “Actually, I'm here because I have a gift from Sarah for you.” You beam, and pull the box holding the mug from your bag. “She made it and was really excited for you to have it.” 

He opens the box and pulls out the hand-crafted mug. “That girl,” he starts, but trails off. He smiles as he turns it around in his hands, almost as if he's inspecting every angle. “We should get her on the phone.” He states after a moment. 

You pull out your phone and dial her number to video chat. “Guess what?” you ask, quizitively when she answers. “He loves it!” You face the phone over to him. The three of you talk for a while, sipping cup after cup of coffee until it's nearly dark outside. 

“Well,” you sigh. “I shouldn't keep you any longer.” You start to get your bag. 

“It has gotten pretty late,” Joel shrugs. “Did you want to stay for dinner? Since it's late, I was thinking I'd just order delivery.”

You take a moment to actually consider, before deciding to stay. You quickly text your mom. ‘Hey I'm staying for dinner at Joel's. I'll be back later tonight :)’

After a few moments, he sets down his phone and says, “Well, delivery said it'll be here in 45 minutes. Wanna watch a movie?”

You nod and follow into the living room. He puts on some action movie. You haven't seen it before, but it seems extremely predictable in what will happen next. As the movie goes on, you find yourself inching closer to him. When you're close enough, you lean your head on his shoulder. He jolts a little at this motion, and turns slightly to face you. You have know idea what's gotten into you, you've never had feelings like this towards Joel. He just… the way he looked over you when you first got here, and how fresh he was after the shower. Ugh, and how he smells now. You can hardly contain yourself. You lean your face towards him and to your surprise, he does the same. Before you even have the chance to think, you kiss him. You jump back a little bit, and lock into the most uncertain eye contact you've ever experienced. 

You start to stutter. “I don't… I didn't… I… I’m sorry, I didnt…” But before you can get any real sentence out, he kisses you again. This time with more passion. You kiss him back, and don't stop this time. Your tongue slides into his mouth, and his into yours. He tastes so good. At this, you decide to swing yourself up onto his lap, straddling his legs. Oh God, he’s so hard. Without even questioning what sort of boundaries should be in place, you start to grind down on him just ever so slightly. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, then let's out a grown. He grabs both sides of your waist and gently bucks his hips up into you. He slows down after this, pulls back, and whispers, “Are you okay with this? I don't want to cross any boundaries.”

Oh God, what would Sarah think? Never mind about her right now. “Yes,” you breathe out, nodding your head. “Yes, please Joel,” you manage to get out before starting to slowly grind on him again.

He feels his way up and down your body. Grazing your back with his palms, circling around to grip onto your waist, neck and, jaw at times. After a moment of this, you guide his hand up under your shirt, and slip it off over your head. He plays around with your tits through your bra, before reaching around and unclasping it in the back. You're sooo glad you matched your bra with your thong today. He groans at the sight of your newly freed tits, your nipples hard against the cool air. He pinches them first before going immediately to suck on them. He sucks and pinches and bites until each breast has been thoroughly loved. Still grinding on his hard dick through his jeans, you reach your hand down and ask, “Can I take this out, Joel?”.

He considers for just a moment before nodding. “You sure you want this baby?” he asks, genuinely. 

“Yes Joel, fuck, I want it so bad,” you manage to stutter out. 

“Okay baby girl, I’ll give you this dick, but there's only one rule.” he stops completely, waiting for your full attention. “You don’t ever tell Sarah.”

Fuck, you have to stop thinking about Sarah. She can't know, it would break her. You nod your head, “I promise, I won't tell her,” you whine. He grabs onto your hair at the back of your head, and pulls you down closer to his face. 

“Say, ‘I promise Sarah will never find out about this, Joel’” he says into your ear. You repeat the words back to him. “Good girl,” he spits out before letting go of you. 

He kisses you again, more sloppy this time, and slowly starts to un-button his jeans. Your hands immediately go to help, and you finally get a feel of his hard cock. It’s so fucking huge, so thick and long. You pull it out completely and immediately start feeling it up and down. 

“Hm-mm,” he shakes his head. “You take these off first.” He gestures to the leggings you had thrown on to come over here. You oblige, remove yourself from his lap, and hook your thumbs into your own waistband. You slowly slide them down until they reach your ankles, and kick them off to the side. You stand there for a moment, Joel observing you, the only light from the movie still playing behind you. “Turn around for me,” he commands. As soon as you do so, he grabs onto your ass, gently squeezing, then pulls you in closer to him. He kisses your ass cheeks, then your thighs, then wraps his arm around your waist and slowly goes to feel your mound. His large hand gives it a squeeze before yanking your thong down until it falls to the floor. 

“You're such a little slut,” he let's out a short laugh. “Really gonna let your best friend's dad fuck you.” 

You giggle slightly at this, but really, he needs to stop reminding you that he's Sarah's dad. She would kill you if she ever found out. “Joooel,” you playfully groan. At this, he slaps your ass, hard. You jolt a little bit, but allow him to continue. He wraps his arm around the front of you again, hand going straight to your cunt. He sits on the edge of the couch, holding you close to him. His finger slides up and down your folds, making you jump when he grazes over your clit. 

“You like that, do you?” he teases. 

You nod your head aggressively and let out a quick “mm-hmmm, give me more Joel.”

“Oh I'll give you more,” he says with a tone you've never heard in his voice. He sounds possessive, so dominant. He starts circling around your clit with his fingers. “Fuck, I love your wet pussy,” he groans. “Let me taste it.” 

He doesn't wait for you to give any permission before he spins you around and immediately starts licking through your folds. Kissing and sucking on your clit, and moving down to fuck you with his tongue. Fuck, it feels so good. You start to have a hard time standing up. Your vision starts to blur, fuck, you're so close to finishing. “Fuck… Joel!” You moan loudly, unable to contain yourself. “I'm gonna… I'm!” But before you can come, he completely lets off of you and pulls you down to straddle his lap again. “Fuck” you scream. You were so fucking close. 

“Not yet, baby girl,” he jides. “Not yet, not till I say you can.” He let's out a devilish laugh at you. 

Before you can even protest, he slides two fingers up into you. He slides them in and out several times before going right to your spongy G spot. He plays around for a moment before finally saying “Now you're gonna ride my dick baby, you got it? Be a good girl for daddy?” 

You moan and nod your head. He pulls his fingers out of you and lifts up his massive cock. Lining it up to your entrance for you, you smash down hard onto it. Lifting yourself and slamming down again, over and over. Your cunt takes every inch of him, like it was made just to fit. You start to move faster and faster on his dick, until you're basically twerking with it inside you. 

“Yessss,” he hisses out. “Yes baby, fuck, your tight little pussy feels so- ah, so good on my fat. cock.” Suddenly he holds onto your hips, pulling you down and making it hard to keep going. Now you get it, he's trying to edge himself too. With you now sitting still, but his dick still inside you, he decides to pay attention to your throbbing cunt. He takes a finger first and rubs gentle circles around your clit. Listening to your soft moans and whimpers, he starts whispering in your ear.

“Yes that's a good girl,bbaby. Love when I play with you like that, huh? Your wet little cunt so tight around my dick.”  This is all you need. His fingers speed up on your clit, and he bucks his hips up ever so slightly. He keeps whispering those sweet words into your ear until finally, “Come for me baby. Come all over this big cock.”

You let out a moan at this. “Fuck daddy, I'm so. fucking. close.” you let out with a shriek. His fingers working you over so quick on your clit. “Fuck I'm gonna-” your words break off. You squeeze your eyes shut, and can only hear the blood rushing through your ears. You don't know if you scream, or curse, or moan. All you know is that you completely shatter. Your cum bursts out, encasing his entire dick in the thick liquid. 

When you finally regain your senses, you make a quick eye contact with Joel. “How was that baby?” he asks, with just a touch of shyness. “Do you think you could keep going?”

Fuck, absolutely you could keep going. You need him to come inside you. You need it so bad.

You nod your head aggressively at him. “Please. Please keep going Joel.”  He gives you several long kisses before weaving his arms around you, and flipping you so that you're on all fours on the sofa. After a moment of him admiring your body, every shape and curve, he sticks a few fingers into your hole, feeling his way around before abruptly removing them. He lines up his cock again and slowly slides it in. He does this several times before picking up his pace. A low groan escapes his mouth. 

“Can't believe I'm fucking this tight little pussy. So- tight around my cock,” he says, breathlessly before letting out another groan. “Wanna- come inside it baby. Can I fill you up with daddy’s cum?”

You moan. “Fuck yes, come inside me daddy,” you whine. “Fill me up, give it all to me.” You're seconds from coming again when he decides to pick up the pace even further. His pelvis slamming into your ass, and balls coming up to graze against your clit are enough to make you go insane. You're moaning now with every thrust, his calloused fingers holding tighter and tighter onto your hips. 

Suddenly, you feel your walls clamp down onto him, and you come again. This time your heat spreading all over the front of him and down onto the couch. Still in your euphoric state, you hear him shout “fuck!”, before completely unraveling inside you. His hot ropes of cum pumping inside of you, being forced further and further up. He finishes completely and pulls out slowly. 

“Here, let me go get a towel for you,” he says, but before he can get the chance to move, you sit up and catch the cum that drips out of your entrance. You want the rest to stay in you, as a reminder for the rest of the night. You teasingly bring your fingers up to your mouth and suck each of them clean. His mouth opens slightly, and once you've swallowed all of it down, he gives you several long, passionate kisses. 

“You're so sexy,” he says quietly, still observing your every move. 

“Can we do this again before I leave?” you ask. 

“Ahh baby girl, yes of course we can. Just don't tell Sarah,” he gives a wink at the end of this thought. 

The two of you eat your dinner, which had been sitting on the porch for some time. Apparently the driver knocked a while ago, and you didn't even hear it. Once finished, you say your goodbyes and head back to your family's house. 

“Jee, what took you all night?” your brother prods when you enter the front door.

“We just were on video call with Sarah and got carried away,” you say with a teasing look.

“Oh that's a relief, I was starting to think you two were fucking,” he jokingly wipes sweat off his forehead. 

You flip him off as you walk to your old bedroom to start getting ready to shower. He has no idea how right he is. You look down at your phone and see a text from Sarah. You curse to yourself before reading. 

Hey thanks again for making that visit to my dad. I know he’s been a little lonely without me there so I bet he really appreciates the company. Love you girl.  ‘Don't tell Sarah,’ you think to yourself over and over again. She can never find out about this.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

[wileys-russo]

mearps blurb request (she’s so underrated it’s criminal): mearps is super busy and focused (she gives off such boss wife energy c’mon) with football stuff, and comes home to her gf who has been super domestic and made their place really warm and cosy, cooked her favourite food, and just generally tried to look after her (I always say I’m super independent but for a hot footballer? it’d be wifey energy in an instant)

domestic bliss II m.earps

mary exhaled deeply as she parked up in the driveway after an excruciatingly long day.

she'd been up at the crack of dawn for fitness testing for the impending season, trained this morning and this afternoon with the team, met with her MAE27 team for a business lunch about the next upcoming launch inbetween on her break.

then had yet another business meeting with nike after her second training session about stocking her national keepers jersey which was nothing short of a draining back and forth argument, and had just wrapped up a zoom call with her agent which had gone an hour and a half overtime.

mary was forever grateful for her career and more than knew the privilege she held in her current position. but days like today she just felt pulled in a hundred directions, talked at rather than to, acting more like a robot than a human just to get by.

she had left the house not long after five this morning and was now returning at half past seven at night, her bones ached and her head was absolutely throbbing. mary could almost feel her heartbeat in her eyes and had seriously considered pulling over with how bleary her vision was driving home.

on top of that mary knew she had an insane list of life admin awaiting her once she stepped through her front door. she had a sink full of dishes to be washed, baskets of dirty laundry to be done as well as a mountain of clean clothes to be put away.

her bedroom looked like a bomb went off, clothes were scattered left right and centre from her early morning toss through her wardorbe to try and find her training gear. which of course she'd eventually sought out in her dirty washing basket, having to drown herself in perfume just to get by today.

the entire house needed vacuuming and tidying and her bathroom was crying out in desperation for a deep clean. mary having been away for the weekend to see her family had meant that again her two days off had been consumed by other people needing her, not what she needed.

she had dinner to be cooked and she needed to spend some time doing work to prepare for the upcoming week which was destined to be just as busy as today if not worse.

and to add yet another thorn in her side, you, her refuge and respite from the insanity of everything going on, were away for the entire week on a business trip.

mary was endlessly proud of you and especially for the promotion you'd recently earned, despite the added tasks and hours it meant.

still she couldn't stop herself from selfishly wish you were here, wanting to just melt into you as you whispered sweet nothings in her ear, showering her in the warmth and love that you forever and always indulged her with.

but you needed to accompany your boss for the week and mary knew how important it was that she was just as supportive of you and your career as you were of hers, she was nothing less than your number one fan and made sure you knew that every chance she had to prove it to you.

as much as she'd love nothing more than to order a takeaway and potato it out on the sofa mary knew that just wasn't an option and the more she put things off the longer and more overwhelming her to do list became.

so with a sharp inhale mary shut off the engine and unbuckled herself, mentally preparing for what was likely to be a grueling all nighter as she grabbed her kit bag from the back, which was filled with even more dirty laundry for the ever growing collection she was complaining as the days passed.

locking her car behind her mary trudged her way up the driveway, feet dragging along the cement as if weighed down by anchors until she eventually made it to the front door.

the woman had to withhold the urge to launch her keys across the front yard as she dropped them twice trying to fumble around and unlock the door, eventually shoving them in with a pained sigh, shouldering it open and stepping over the threshhold.

mary closed the door behind her and adjusted her kit bag on her shoulder, kicking off her trainers and frowning as she realised the once messy cubby of shoes was neatly organised, her shoes all stacked up neatly and in colour order.

the next thing that peaked her suspicion was the smell of lavender drifting around the house, as well as the music she now noticed coming from down the hall. following her nose marys eyes widened in shock as she slowly took in the spotless living room.

"oh hi love, sorry i didn't even hear you come in." mary let out a yell and spun around, dropping her bag to the ground as you watched on with an amused smile, cocking your head to the side as mary opened and closed her mouth in shock.

"you look like a goldfish." you quipped teasingly, taking a step closer toward her as mary firmly shook her head. "you're supposed to be in london." she managed to spit out, still trying to wrap her head around what was happening right now.

"when you called me yesterday i could hear how tired you were, i know this week is insane for you with the MAE27 drop and the ongoing contract negotiations, not to mention you taking the next step with nike and what that might mean for you if they try to pursue something legal-" you continued to make your way across the room toward her.

"-so i spoke with arthur and he agreed to let me come back early and work from home. i could work from the office but with everyone still in london for the conference there's really no point, I mean I might pop in a couple times but-" your words were cut off short as your girlfriend quickly closed the distance between you and engulfed you in a bone crushing hug.

you couldn't help but laugh as she picked you up off your feet, gripping you so tight you could swear you might have bruises from how her fingertips dug themselves into your skin as she held your body close to her own.

"so i made my way back here this morning. cleaned the house, did some work, caught you up on laundry, bought some groceries and made dinner. which you're just in time for!" you announced happily as she placed you back down on your feet.

grabbing your girlfriends hand you all but dragged her into the dining room, gently pushing her down into a seat, hands on her shoulders.

"try to relax baby, you're insanely tense." you spoke softly, squeezing her shoulders and kissing her cheek tenderly before hurrying off to the kitchen.

mary was still in a state of shock as you busied yourself dishing up, flittering around the kitchen as marys eyes wandered around the once messy home, so clean she probably could have eaten off any surface without a second thought.

craning her head to the side she peered into your shared bedroom, immediately noticing her mountain of clean laundry had suddenly disappeared, as had her wardrobe of clothes which once littered the floor this morning.

eyes drifting back to you she located the source of the gentle lavender which was wafting around the room, the diffuser you'd purchased a few months go expelling the fragrant floral scent into the air.

if there was one thing mary would associate you with, it was flowers.

you'd made it clear from the moment you'd met her how much they meant to you, forever admiring them with a soft loving gaze, fingers stroking the petals with the outmost care as if they were made from the most fragile of glass.

the older girl noticed you bought yourself a new bunch every week which would sit proudly on your coffee table in the early stages of your relationship before you'd moved in together.

so of course mary then made sure she bought you flowers every week, the radiant smile which would curl onto your face at the sweet gesture each time she handed them over making her heart flutter as you'd hold them so tenderly.

you looked to them as you would a newborn child, as if you could hurt them if handled too rough. after you’d carefully placed them in a vase pecking her lips at least four times, mumbling your gratitude as you did.

so of course it came as no surprise to mary to see you'd bought a fresh bunch of poppies which were sat in a vase on the table.

the simple gesture was the tipping point for the keeper as she felt her exhaustion finally come to a boil, tears welling up in her eyes.

"so i made your favorite but-" you hurried back with a plate piled high with food, though you quickly placed it down seeing the obvious pain in your girlfriends eyes.

"oh mary." your features softened as the thin line of tolerance the older girl had suddenly snapped, the tears carving their path down her flushed cheeks.

"why are you crying love?" you asked quietly with a concerned frown, your girlfriend wordlessly scooting her chair back and tugging you to straddle her lap, your hands coming to rest gently either side of her face as hers gripped at the back of your top.

your thumbs tenderly wiped away her tears as her fists balled your shirt, twisting the material tightly and pushing your body into hers, burying her face in your chest as you felt her tears dampen your shirt.

"oh baby." you sighed, arms moving to wrap around her neck, one hand cradling the back of her head as the other dipped down her shirt and traced soft circles on her back with your nails.

you recognized that she clearly needed to let this out as you held her tightly, whispering sweet words of affirmation in her ear as she slowly began to settle. "sorry about your shirt." the older girl sniffled, cracking a small smile as she pulled her head away, noticing the obvious tear stains on your shoulder.

"thats okay my love its yours anyway." you teased playfully, wiping a few stray tears from her crystal blue eyes and reaching behind you to grab a few tissues, handing them to mary as she blotted at her puffy red eyes.

"sorry i just-i was so drained today and i knew i had so much more to do when i got home and my day just seemed to drag on and on and on. then the last thing i expected was you to be here, let alone for you to have literally done everything because of course i'm hopeless. but i don't want you to feel like you have to do this and you have to take care of-" you cut her off as you gently placed a hand over her mouth.

"okay first of all. i don't feel like i have to take care of you, or i have to do anything for you. i did what i did because i love you ever so dearly and i want to look after you, i want you to feel cared for and supported and like you can come home after a shit day and just unwind. so please don't thank me, don't feel guilty, just know that i love you more than anything and you don't need to tackle everything alone." you spoke softly but your words held firm, mary stunned wordless at the overwhelming wave of emotions she felt for you, only nodding along.

"as much as i love what a business woman and a tough boss bitch you are, independence doesn't mean you have to do everything yourself. i'm here, let me take some of the load for you yeah?" you smiled tenderly, mary again nodding and pulling you into a hug, your lips resting lovingly on her forehead as she mumbled how much she adored you into your shoulder, affectionately kissing your collarbone and jawline before making her way to your lips.

"as much as i love kissing you, please eat before it gets cold." you gently pushed her away and stood to your feet, sliding her the plate of food as mary almost moaned at the sight of it, happily tucking in as you sat down beside her and did the same.

with her ongoing questions you filled her in on how the last few days you had been at the conference were, the blonde listening intently practically hanging off your every word and you melted at the obvious effort.

ignoring your protests that you could do it mary wasted no time shooing you out of the kitchen and into the shower, threatening to throw you over her shoulder and walk you into the bathroom herself unless you went willingly.

as you disappeared the older girl was quick with washing up everything from dinner, unable to wipe the smile off of her face at just how looked after and cared for she felt, wrapped up in the comfortable and cosy little bubble of domestic bliss you'd crafted for her oh so intricately.

drying her hands mary joined you in the living room where you took up her normal position as the big spoon, opening your arms and patting the space in between your legs with an alluring smile.

you let out a laugh as the taller girl practically belly flopped on top of you, peppering your face with sloppy kisses before settling in your arms.

you threw on her favorite movie which only softened her up more, your hands coming to rest on her shoulders as you began to massage out the tense knots of stress, pressing the occasional tender kiss to the back of her shoulder blade or below her ear.

the deeper you pushed the more relief flooded her body and mary couldn't help but let her eyes start to slowly flutter close, overcome by a tantalizing cocktail of both exhaustion and bliss.

and in that moment, wrapped up in your arms and smothered with your love and care, mary solemnly swore to herself, she'd make you her wife one day, and that day was going to come as soon as she possibly could make it.

#woso x reader #woso #mary earps x reader #mary earps #woso fanfics #woso imagine #engwnt #woso blurbs #man united

[jina1028]

Helping Hand

Yunho x fem!reader

Categories: roommates!au, smut, masturbation (fem), sex toys, fingering, oral (f rec), vaginal penetration, non protected sex (don't do this irl), creampie, Yunho has a big dick

You just got home from a "couples date" that your friend insisted so much you took part in because "Come on, you're single, I think I like him but it would be less awkward if there's someone with me, and he has a single friend as well who's looking for a partner... Pleaseeee". Your friend begged until you reluctantly agreed, how bad could it be if you faked a little interest during the dinner and then parted ways forever after?

You thought you could do this sacrifice for her but you couldn't imagine the dickhead that would be your "date". He introduced himself looking between your eyes and your tits, he talked about how he wanted a woman that could settle down giving up her career if she happened to have one, because "men and women should have specific roles in society, they should think about cleaning home and raising children" and complained about the difficulty of finding such women nowadays, to which you thought you had an idea why he was single. For the sake of your friendship you bit your tongue everytime he said something stupid and your friend would nudge you in the ribs to warn you.

She later apologized, saying she had no idea he would be such a moron, but that still left you bitter. If he wasn't the man of your life you could still find someone nice to spend lonely nights with, to satisfy you sexually at least, but he wasn't even worth sharing your name with in your opinion.

You huffed closing the door of your apartment and kicking off your heels. Your roommate, Yunho, said he was going out with friends that night so that meant you were home alone for a while. You called his name to make sure and waited in silence for a second, no response.

You strolled to the bathroom to take a nice shower and get ready for bed. When you finally layed in bed though you felt the need to steam off your frustration so you closed your eyes and dipped your hand inside your panties, starting to draw slow circles on your clit, your wetness soon starting to collect between your folds, helping in your task to get off. But it still wasn't enough so you reached for the drawer of your nightstand looking for your vibrator, still massaging your slick clit with the other hand. You found it right away and turned it on at a low setting, resting it on your swollen clit. You let out a whimper at the feeling, thanking the fact that Yunho was still out.

Yunho. He entered your mind in that moment. You actually always thought your roommate was attractive but never wanted to take the risk of ruining your relationship with him, it would be awkward if he turned you down. So you settled for simple glances whenever he showed some more skin or laying next to him on the sofa watching TV, gladly accepting his absentminded caresses on your calves or little innocent squeezes of his large hand on your thigh when you sat crosslegged next to him focused on some action movie. You actually thought Yunho was hot, with his deep but soft voice, his tall figure and broad shoulders, and his funny and sweet personality.

Your mind began spiralling with thoughts of Yunho and what you would do to him, setting the vibrator on a higher speed, little moans and whimpers slipping from your throat, until your orgasm washed over you, your thighs clasped together, short breaths leaving your mouth, your heart racing.

You took just the time to clean up and went to sleep feeling much lighter.

That night you dreamt about Yunho.

The next morning you were woken up by a knock on your bedroom door, Yunho's voice calling your name "Wake up, I brought breakfast from our favorite cafe" he sang from outside the door. You stretched, yawning and groggily getting up from bed, reaching for the door handle and pulling the door open. You were met with a broad chest in a lopsided oversize t-shirt and a sweet tight lipped smile on your roommate's face. You startled a little, making him laugh while he took your wrist and excorted you to the table where sat a cream filled pastry and a hot cappuccino waiting for you, along with his own breakfast.

"Sorry I scared you, I was just about to peer inside to check if you were still sleeping when you opened the door and found me there".

"It's ok, I'll let it slide this one time just because I really love this pastry" you joked before biting said pastry and taking a sip of cappuccino from your cup.

"Ahh thank you for your magnanimity" Yunho exaggerated his bow leaning with his forehead on the table and clasping his hands together above his head, at which you snorted, almost sending your chewed bite to the wrong side of your pipe.

"So how was your date?" he inquired while you gulped some water to make sure not to suffocate yourself.

"It went so bad I actually have no words, he was a real moron" you started, recalling the worst, most memorable sentences you had to hear the night before, Yunho reacting as theatrically as he could, seeing how much you were involved in your storytelling to try and lighten your mood and succeeding.

"When did you come back last night? I didn't hear you, maybe I was asleep" you asked wanting to change the topic of your conversation.

"Oh..." he hesitated, averting his eyes from your face, a light hue of pink tingeing his ears "I stayed home and played a bit on my PC, the guys cancelled our plans last minute."

You felt your blood draining from your face "Were... were you wearing your headset? You didn't hear me come home?" You tried to act nonchalant, like nothing happened in your room, looking casually inside your cup while sloshing the liquid around, missing the way Yunho gazed at you, a little smile threatening to manifest on his lips. "I did hear you come" he answered, his gaze finally locking with yours.

You tried to clear your throat and come up with something to say but suddenly you felt so self concious, your now red face and burning cheeks, your trembling voice, wide eyes, lip biting, how much did Yunho hear? Your brain short circuited, then Yunho said the least expected "Want me to help you next time?"

Did you hear that right? Was he serious? Was he trying to make fun of you? He liked to joke around, yeah, but he would never try to embarrass you like that, would he?

Seeing you struggle with whatever was going on in your head Yunho decided to make a move and rested his hand on yours on the table "Tell me if I'm wrong and we'll pretend like this conversation never happened if you want to, but I think I saw some signals from you all this time... And I honestly think you're hot and I was kinda jealous every time you went out for a date, and even more when you would send me a text telling me you were staying out the night and not to worry about you. I wished it were me you were spending those nights with." he confessed lowering his voice on the last part.

This couldn't be a joke, you were sure now, so you decided to be bolder and answer to his previous question with a question of your own "What if I told you I need your help right now?"

Yunho smirked standing up from his seat and approaching you, bending down to brush his lips on your ear while purring "I'll never deny you a helping hand."

Your lids fluttered closed while he carefully caressed your cheek. You followed the movement of his hand chasing it with your lips to softly kiss the tips of his fingers. Yunho took advantage of that movement to move his lips from your ear to tour jaw and to your neck, leaving a trail of feather like kisses, the little hairs on your neck standing up from the shivers that traveled down your spine, a little gasp escaping your mouth. He brought his hands to your waist, squeezing and pulling a little soliciting you to lift up. When you did he attached his lips to yours, inhaling your smell deeply through his nose. He started walking you backwards towards your bedroom, pulling and biting your bottom lip, slipping his tongue in your mouth. You weren't caught off guard though and took the opportunity to suckle on his tongue, sending a shiver directly to his cock, making him groan as he pressed you to your bedroom door. You could feel his boner rubbing on your hip while he fumbled with the door handle. You stumbled to your bed pulling Yunho down with you, still kissing and playing with his tongue. Your hands went to his hair on the back of his head, tangling your fingers in his dark locks and pushing him to deepen the kiss. When he pulled away for air he stood on his knees to get rid of his t-shirt and with your approval he helped you strip too, pulling up your pajama shirt and letting out a little gasp and a curse under his breath when he found out you weren't wearing a bra. He attacked your neck sucking and biting, while lightly grazing your breasts and nipples with one hand and pressing his knee between your legs, rubbing your clit and eliciting a moan from you.

"Do it again" he groaned, doing the same motion to earn another sound from you. He suddenly felt greedy, wanting to hear more sounds, so he made you lift your hips to remove your pants, being greeted by a wet patch staining your panties, sticking and outlining your pretty pussy, not leaving much to Yunho's imagination. He was in heaven, finally being able to be the source of your pleasure, if it depended on him you wouldn't have needed to get off on your vibrator anymore, he wanted to be the only reason for your beautiful moans. He buried his nose in your clothed pussy and nudged your clit, wanting to hear more of your sounds, pulling your panties to the side, slipping his fingers through your folds and experimentally pushing one digit inside. Your little moans turned to whimpers and sobs when he inserted a second finger and curled them up, hitting your sweet spot over and over again, his mouth latched to your clit, suckling.

"Yunho, stop teasing and fuck me already" you lamented.

"Wow, not even a 'please' or 'thank you', so rude" he chuckled but nonetheless he detached from you to get rid of his pants and boxers, freeing his hard erection. You ogled at it with big eyes, never having seen anything like that in real life, long, girthy, veiny, slightly curved up and already leaking precum, it looked delicious.

Yunho peeled your panties off, impatient to stuff your pussy with his cock when he remembered "Wait, I don't have a condom".

"I'm clean and on birth control" you reassured him, impatience taking the best of you.

"I'm clean too. So do I really get to fuck you raw?" he beamed.

"I'm waiting" you urged him, to which he launched himself on top of you, kissing and biting your neck, grinding his hips into yours, mixing your slick with his precum.

When he finally pushed inside he had to go slow because of his size, in order for you to adjust. Both of you groaning with every little push until he bottomed out, resting on top of you until you gave him permission to start moving. You were ecstatic, every time he thrusted back inside it felt like he filled you more and more, and his pace was just perfect, hard enough but not so much to hurt you, fucking you so good. You thought so until he lifted your legs hooking them in his elbows, his hands pressed to the mattress on your sides, pistoning in long, smooth motions, hitting your clit with his pelvis with every move, perfectly angled to reach your g-spot. That's when you felt like you were living an out of body experience, you were transcending reality.

Yunho tried to stay quiet in order to listen to your every grunt and moan, allowing himself to only let out little groans and huffs, until he felt your walls contracting again and again on his cock, splurting clear liquid around him and on the sheets, urging him to reach his own climax and making him come hard inside of you with a deep growl, spilling and spilling, pulsing and twitching until with a last roll of his hips he stilled, then finally let go of your legs, rolling off of you to collapse on your side, panting hard.

Both of you stayed like that for a minute, spent and sweaty, catching your breaths. You finally rolled on your side intertwining your legs with his, smiling up at him "I think I'll need your help pretty often from now on"

Yunho smiled back at you, kissing your nose "I was hoping for 'every day', but 'pretty often' is ok too."

#kpop smut #ateez smut #fanfic #yunho smut #yunho x reader #jeong yunho smut #smut

[thecameronchronicles]

Baby Daddy

TW: Smut. DOM!Rafe. Smut. Language. Manipulative and toxic behaviors. Degrading language. Read with discretion. 

SUMMARY: Rafe manipulated his way to your bed once again...

WORD COUNT: 2900

REQUESTED

onclouds999 asked:

Can you do a toxic baby daddy smut with rafe. Yn decide to just co parent one evening and rafe wants a lil more than just family time

*ADDED A BIT OF AN ELEMENT HERE, HOPE YOU STILL ENJOY! XO

Baby Daddy

Late as usual. Your mind had already begun to conjure the poor excuse he would have when finally arriving to pick up your son. Would it be traffic like it was last week or work the Friday night prior to that? It didn't matter. All you could think of was how at ease you would feel for tomorrow morning when you could wake up without the alarm coming in the form of your child knocking on your bedroom door. You loved being a mom, even if the role came unexpectedly. But you were still human. You still wanted to sleep in every so often. You wanted that small break you were warranted after a week's worth of responsibility for a life you hadn't created on your own. 

The thoughts of that night in question managed to sneak their way into your thoughts as you sat in wait against the kitchen counter, only to be interrupted by that eventual knock of certainty. 

"Your dad's here..." The title still foreign in regards to someone like Rafe, who still believed responsibility was set to everyone else. But you couldn't deny how it warmed your heart to see your son's excitement for his father. Those small moments visualized are what made you regret not being able to make it work. And if life with Rafe could be composed solely of those moments than it could have. But he was too manipulative. Too dark. Too toxic. 

"My car just broke down."

"What?!" You peeked your head out of the door of your apartment. 

"And the storm is coming in pretty quick...guess I'll be staying in tonight." You clenched your jaw. 

"Can't you have Ward or Topper-" Before you could offer an alternative, his jacket was removed and he was moving in the direction of your son. 

"Looks like we're staying with mommy tonight.". You clenched your jaw. 

"All of us?" Your toddler asked, eyes of wonder matching Rafe's that looked to you in mischief. He made a habit of using your son to make you acquiesce. Christmases spent at Tannyhill when you wanted to go back home to your own family. The choice of preschool as a Cameron child wouldn't be caught dead in a public school setting when "higher education was within reach". You could hear Ward speak the words as you thought them. But even down to the design of your son's room in YOUR apartment. Rafe got the final say. 

Luckily, the night was nearly over. Sun had already been exchanged for the moon and the stars sat as sporadic diamonds across a clear sky covered in a dying storm as you set your son to sleep. After sharing dinner with pleasant conversation, you overheard Rafe read your son to sleep as you finished the dishes to wake up to a clean kitchen. But as he emerged, you recognized that glimmer in his slate cobalt irises. The same that convinced you to keep from using protection that night four years ago. The same look that made you a mom with the accompaniment of that devilish smirk and those hands tracing up your body...

"I have the couch made up-' 

"Can I take a shower? I didn't have the chance since getting off. I came straight here. To see you...both." He asked the question already knowing you had no reason to deny him of this. But as he slipped away, not even to the bedroom before being shirtless, you rolled your eyes at his attempts. 

Although you weren't proud of it, it wasn't the first time in which you'd fallen back into your old patterns. Rafe was familiar. Toxic. But familiar. He was that old sweater in the back of your closet that you found comfort in no matter your weight or motivation for the day. He was that song you thought you'd forgotten on the day you needed it most. But along with the ease came more of a bittersweet underdone of the chaos he left behind. Which was why tonight was so special for you. It was the first night in which you intended to move on. 

The bath was the first step to what was preparation for a date with someone else. Someone new. Someone you never would have paid attention to before now. But with a string of broken relationships having collected pieces of your heart, you didn't think it would hurt. Which was why you shouldn't have been surprised that Rafe happened to break down tonight. If he even had. You had half of a mind to run out into the blizzard and investigate. But before you could, he emerged in only a towel. 

"Forget your clothes?" You asked, turning around in annoyance. 

"I remember a time you used to lick down my stomach and leave scratch marks on my abs and now you can't even look?" He scoffed as you glared. Your anger was enough to ignore the way his abdomen was accentuated beneath the droplets of water seemingly left intentionally. 

"Would you please just get dressed?!" You groaned as your phone rang on the counter. 

Shit. 

"Hey!" Your cadence lifted. 

"You can't make it?" The kind voice of your date asked, soothing understanding set over his disappointment. 

"No, of course I understand." You would leave out the overnight guest you had acquired at the last minute before wishing him a good night and turning back to find Rafe leaning against the door to your bedroom. 

"Who is he?" You clenched your jaw, slightly relieved that Rafe didn't know as it meant the guy was safe. To keep him this way, you evaded his question. 

"I checked the weather and it says the storm will only last until about two and so I'll make him breakfast and then you can go-"

"So you can go on your date?" He asked, almost teasing the idea. 

"It's not a...yeah..." You corrected. "Yeah...Rafe."

"Is he a good guy?" He asked while folding his arms, flexing his muscles with the intent to steal your focus. 

"I don't know. It'll be our first date."

"Then let me tell you how it would go .." he began to walk closer to you every few seconds as he spoke. You rolled your eyes to his 'man-splaining'. 

"He is going to compliment you all night all to get you naked. Once he has, he'll get dirtier about it. Ask what you like and maybe even smack your ass." 

Your eyes narrowed sharper towards him. 

"And he'll leave. He won't call. You'll feel like shit."

"Oh really?" He nodded, now standing only a foot or so away from you, his arms coming across himself once again. 

"Now let me tell you what you'll do ..." Your brows arched in intrigue. 

"You'll be nice and sweet...compliment his sense of humor although you'll have to force yourself to laugh all night. You'll let him fuck you because you'll be trying to convince yourself it's a way to move on..." He now hovered over you. 

"But when he leaves ..you'll slide your hand to that bedside drawer and take out that vibrator you use and think of me like you always do. Because that's the only way you ever come. Because of me-" 

"Believe it or not, Rafe...I don't need you for that." You spat, even if it had been a lie. No matter how close to that precipice you came, you couldn't find relief unless imagining his touch or his lips. His kiss. His cock...

"What were you going to wear for him?" He teased the shirt already draping halfway off of your shoulder. As you corrected him, he scoffed. 

"You should wear the powdered blue set. Easier to take off. It will be over faster-"

"Go to hell ..." You muttered before trying to move past him. But in the attempts to try, you felt him capture your wrist. 

"I am." Your eyes nearly closed to his words. 

"Everyday I'm not with you."

"You were with me. You dictated my every move. What I wore. What I ate. What I said...that isn't being with me...that's prison...I have a right to be happy Rafe..."

"All those times you screamed for me, you were miserable?"

"It was always sex. It was how you tried to fix how fucked up you are. But nothing can. Not therapy. Not your dad's money. Not me. I tried. Every time you just got high. Every time you screwed up...but not now. Not again." Your words were cause enough to be released. 

You moved into your bedroom, closing the door as softly as possible to keep from waking your son connected by only a thin wall. The ambition to bathe in ease and seclusion remained as you began to run the water and sat on the rim of the tub. Wearing only remnants of the day's outfit, you traced your fingers through the water before adding your bathing additions. Bubbles coated the top in a thin layer as Epsom salt was set for your aching muscles. But they would do nothing to soothe the ache between your thighs. 

"You belong to me." His voice wasn't as surprising as the grasp made at the back of your hair and neck. 

"I don't-" You were forced before the bathroom mirror. 

"Let me remind you." Before you could object, your panties were infiltrated by his fingers. 

"Nice to know I can still make you this wet without doing much..."

"It's not because of you-" You attempted to derail his confidence, but he was quick to correct you. 

"You said you hadn't even dated the guy yet. And I know for a fact nobody can touch you or fuck you like me." He pulled harder at your hair, but not enough to make it impossible to see your reflection. All because he wanted you to witness your body's response to him. 

"I'll give you one last chance to be honest for me." 

But you paused. Validating him meant lengthening this tormenting toxicity. Even if the release he allowed was incomporable it was also detrimental to your existence. Small doses were a near overdose in his presence, which left any interaction dangerous. Especially alone. Especially those confined like this. 

"That's okay baby...Your pussy is telling me everything I need to know. Everything I already did..." He was cruel with the first finger set inside of you. The familiar thick digit was directed on a mission solely to tease you as you arched back against him. 

"Rafe..." His second hand came over your mouth, turning your jaw to face him. 

"You don't say anything until I say...if we wake him up it's going to be because his mom's too big of a whore for my cock to be quiet. But because she's too desperate for just my fingers." He pulled you back to face the mirror before tracing your neck with his tongue. 

"You remember my tongue, don'tcha baby? You've come on it enough times...I can still taste the last time...mmm..." He groaned as your eyes rolled. That masterful tongue that has been the means behind so many undeserved apologies prior to now. 

"And my cock...you want that don't you baby? Reminding you how deep," His finger projected this as you gasped. Your lips remained open to the pressure of his finger as a second brought a sensation only he could. 

"How hard it makes you come? How it was meant to wear your cum? Just like you were meant to drip with mine?" Your attempts to speak only came out in broken breaths and unsteady whimpers. 

"You think anyone, especially a fucking pogue, can do better?" You turned to face him. 

"I never told you he was-" 

"You think I don't know? You think I'd let anyone like that around my son? Around you?" He cocked his jaw, blowing out a breath as his fingers increased in speed. 

"Rafe..."

"You'll always be mine. And even if it takes knocking you up on purpose again, I'll fucking do it-" Your eyes widened in horror. 

"What...you- He withdrew his fingers as he dropped that towel and pulled down your panties, all while you remained in shock. 

"It was the only way to keep you. And until I can stop "fucking up", this is how it will be. When I need it. And you need to be reminded. There is no one else. For me. Or you." He bent you over he sink just enough to align himself to your sex. 

"Stop pretending you'll ever need more." He thrust into you, your fingers at a tight grip around the edge of the sink. He began as violent as possible. Deep and quick as you cried for him, only his name intelligible beneath your pleas. 

"Tell me...tell me how many times this week you came thinking of me...just a number." He demanded in breathless strides mads into your gluttonous sex. Swallowing and savoring him only long enough to promote his pleasure while leaving you more desperate. He accommodated this by the tease made at your nipples as he twisted and pulled the sensitive nerves. 

"Twice? No, I know you need it more than that...maybe twice a day...bet you were about to do that in that bath...right? Knowing I was just beyond that door but you wouldn't dare ask ..but I know you fucking need it...so take it." He clenched his hand tighter in your hair. 

"Maybe if I remind you another way..." You were taken out of the bathroom and into the bed, forced into your stomach. The sound of your bedside table coming open made your stomach twist as you knew what he had been in search of. Exactly what he'd found. 

"Still smells like you...I'd say you used it last night, if not this morning. Dirty girl...." He set the vibration at its highest setting. 

"You deny this and I finish here..." He explained switching a slap to your ass. 

"You come before I say and you will be left so fucking overstimulated that that pogue all the way to The Cut will hear you scream for me...So listen and be good so I can fuck you how we both need. And maybe I'll even let you make me breakfast tomorrow." He winked as he connected the vibrator to your clit. 

Everything was too much. His cock set as the pressure inside of you, the vibrations at war with your urge to obey him as he was a man of his word, and the way he smirked against your shoulder as he felt you counter such desperations. 

"God, you need it...Oh fuck, you're still that desperate little whore..."

"Please...please Rafe..."

"Oh and you still sound so fucking pretty when you beg. But I think..." He guided you to face him, pulling you to the edge of the bed. 

"I've earned a little something...for my patience." You were forced to take him before you could speak. Eyes set to tear as you gagged violently over him. Quick to acclimate, your cheeks pulled into a hollow and your throat opened to him, before you were taken off of the rhythm achieved. 

"And you still take my cock so fucking well...now you're gonna ride it to make us both come. Get on top of me." He didn't force or guide you, he wanted you to do this yourself. And just as you had done in every instance, you showed such enthusiasm by positioning him inside of you. 

"Please..." You pleaded as he pulled the vibrator to view. 

"Tell me what I want to hear and you can come nicely then." When your expression contorted into confusion he would pity you and elaborate. 

"Tell me you know I'm it. You don't need anyone else. Mean it."

"Its you rafe. I hate it. But it is ...I need you..." You shuttered at the words were only a verbalization of your body's response and reaction to him. 

"Good girl...My girl...ride me like you wanna be mine again and maybe tomorrow you can be." You drove him into you as your nails came down harshly onto his shoulders. The chill that developed down your spine as he smirked to such pain had been ignored by the pleasure his cock left as you sunk yourself down onto him. 

A smack to your ass pulled you from your near euphoria as he slowed, "This can be everyday. Just say it." You groaned. 

"Say you want me back and I'm yours." You moaned in length over him. 

"Tell me and you get to come." You fought this as you knew he would take any mention of possession to heart. But you needed it. The way he clung tightly to your chest by the latch made of his lip around your breasts to the grip made at your ass as he guided himself deeply over you had been enough to take you to that joint high. 

"Yours!"

"Good girl..." He smirked. "Now come." The vibrator at your clit sent you to shatter over him. Your orgasm unlocking his own as he pounded into you by burying you into the bed beneath you.

"Rafe-"

"That was for you..." He explained by turning you onto your stomach until your ass was level with his waist. 

"This is for me." He announced before taking you this way as well. The same enthusiasm as if you weren't dripping with him. All while he once again got what he wanted. 

He always did...

TAGLIST: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlostt @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @drews1love @phildunphyisadilf @mashdan0916 @belcalis9503

MASTERLIST

RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST

2ND RAFE CAMERON MASTERLIST

#rafecameron x reader #rafecameronfanfiction #rafecameron #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #outerbanks #obx #outer banks smut #obxsmut #obx fanfiction #outer banks #drew starkey

[sameschmidtdiffname]

Slip

Mike Schmidt x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: At some point or another, the words slip out. It's just that, naturally, you're an idiot who can't pick the right moment.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific pronouns for reader, night terrors, disassociation, attempted comfort, miscommunication, brief non sexual shower scene, unintentional harm, anxiety, sweet ending. (fr this time, I'm not pulling a 'Repentance.') Slight spoilers for 'Petals On The Wind' by V.C. Andrews.

Notes: I had a vision and I tried. Pls give me mercy.

                     ▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

The night air is sweet, fresh with the smell of citrus from the soap I had used earlier that evening in my shower mixed with the damp smell of the dew forming on the grass and the leaves outside. The curtains shift slightly as the air spills into the dark room, the only light born by a small lamp clipped to the cover of my book as I read quietly.

Beside me lays Mike, facing the ceiling and looking as peaceful as he ever could. It was a relaxation that doesn't come to him in consciousness, too busy with thoughts I sometimes am not privy too. But I don't pry. I've heard most of the story from him and from Abby, and he is allowed to grieve the past alone. He knows I am always available to help him.

It had been a long day for him. He didn't need to tell me, it was obvious by the way he'd sat at the kitchen table, thinking he was alone and hands buried in his hair. I hadn't meant to spy on him, having just slipped out of my shower. He wasn't crying, but his face was pale and dreadful. The bags under his eyes a dark purple that they hadn't been earlier at dinner, and the haunted quality of his stare had increased in an alarming manner since I'd left him. Had he moved since dinner? Abby was in her room, her voice trailing quietly down the hall as she hummed to herself behind the closed door. The overhead yellow light directly above Michael made him look like a painting of doom, covered in shadows with sharp edges as dark as his thoughts.

When I guided him to bed he wouldn't talk to me. Not when I removed his shirt to change him into something clean. Not when I opened the bottle of pills he'd been able to relax on for the past couple weeks. And not when I held a glass of water to his lips, his mouth only moving to take a long drink before I guided him onto his back, where he stared at the ceiling quietly while I stroked his hair, watching him carefully until he drifted away into a drugged dream of obliviousness where hopefully he could find the peace he needed.

More often than not I read before bed. Usually Mike would lay his head on my chest, his eyes reading the same bits I would and commenting on something here or there, once in a while spoiling the next paragraph for me. But I never minded when he did, it was always an accident.

It did get to the point where Mike imposed a limit of two chapters a night, knowing I could become so enraptured in a story I wouldn't even pay attention to the world around me until I finished it, usually with the early light beginning to peak through the branches outside and create dancing rays of sun along our bed. It wasn't really a rule, more so a concerned request. There was no punishment if I didn't comply, if I deprived myself of sleep reading all that would exist as a reprimand is my own exhaustion. Mike would always silently pick up on this, more gentle with me and luring me away from my nightly ritual with his arms wrapped around my tired body, fingers combing through my hair and his even breathing coaxing me into the sleep I needed until his alarm would wake us, still wrapped around each other and warm in the morning glow of a new day with a new chapter. And recently I realized it was something about him I loved. Though I dare not say it out loud. Not yet.

I'm only a handful chapters into this book. It's one that I've read before, an ironic favorite from when I was younger and snuck books home that I'd borrowed from the woman next door after playing with her granddaughters. The subject of the novel was taboo, Gothic horror I would hide under my bed away from my mother's eyes until she would lay in her own bed, allowing me to click on a light and read until school the next morning. It's been years since I've revisited it, and this copy I had bought at a local thrift store for only a quarter with an excited smile, causing an amused look on Mike's face as he'd watched me.

"Shouldn't you read something you already own?" He'd teased while we walked out of the store hand in hand, Abby leading the way to our car.

I'd rolled my eyes, smiling as I checked for cars coming through the parking lot with no regard for little girls.

"Am I not allowed to spend a quarter on my passions?" I said.

"You absolutely are. I'm just wondering how you're going to read everything," he said with a small squeeze of his hand.

The answer is by drinking a cup of tea and working through the book in one sitting as he lays next to me, no work ahead of me for the next two days that would demand proper rest. No limitation able to stop me now. I'm a few hours into my plan when I notice his leg jolt beside mine, no movement otherwise.

I glance at him quickly, seeing if he's woken with a start. His eyes remain closed, lips parted slightly in sleep and otherwise seeming fine. So I resume my book, flipping to the next page to start chapter eleven.

Halfway through chapter thirteen, Mike gasps. Loud and quick, causing a cough to escape him. I slip a finger inbetween my pages, turning to face him and worry stabbing my chest as I wait for him to choke and thrash frantically. But he doesn't. He remains still, his pulse visible near his adams apple as his breath quickens slightly. I watch him, waiting for any signs of distress. But he remains still in sleep, and reluctantly I return to my book once more, having decided it was just a dream.

Finally, at the early hour of four o'clock his hand reaches out, nails digging into my thigh desperately in a way that's painful against my bare skin, raking down and surely creating a trail of blood in his wake as a short, startled yell of Abby's name pierces the air, his body going ridged. And then he's still, body shaking and eyes wide open in confusion, darting around the room as though he cannot place his environment in his still drugged state.

"Hey," I say softly, abandoning my book and turning to face him, unsure if I should touch him or what I need to say to tear him away from the horrors of his mind. "You're okay, you're awake now."

If he hears me he doesn't give any indication, his breathing so quick and unsteady I'm scared he'll knock himself out from hyperventilating.

"It's okay, it was a dream," I tell him. I place my hand apprehensively on his chest, feeling his heart slam against the cage of ribs below my touch. "You're awake now."

His head turns slightly towards me, but he's still panicking, his hand gripping my thigh hard enough hard with nails he hadn't meant to let grow out for the past couple weeks that I have to make a conscious effort to not whine in pain.

He's saying something, quiet and mixing with his irregular breathing as his other hand grabs my hand upon his chest, pressing it tightly against him. But I can't make it out, I can only hear fragments of 'sorry' and 'take.' And the words only blur more as he starts sobbing beside me, the noises he makes terrifying as he struggles for air.

"Let's sit up. Come on, let's sit up," I say. I'm close to panic myself, trying to find his shoulders to pull him up in fear of him choking in such a state. But his hand is too tight around mine, and trying to take it away seems to only cause further distress, his teeth gritting and nostrils flailing as he tries to breathe in as much air as possible. I manage to get one arm under his shoulders, wrapping it around his body and pulling us both up. The shift of his body seems to make something click, his hand suddenly releasing my thigh as he gasps once more, eyes seeming to show recognition of something.

"You're home. We're in our room, Abby is down the hall," I tell him.

"They'll come here, they knew where we live," he says in a rapid but finally coherent voice.

"Who?" I ask. He's scaring me, making me want to join him in my own hysteria. But I don't show it, the pain throbbing in my leg giving me a point of focus to keep my voice even. "No one's coming."

"My aunt- she- they-"

"She's not coming over, no one's coming to take Abby," I tell him, stroking him arm and trying to shift my body to face his. "Everyone's home and safe. I won't let anyone go."

This seems to hit him, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He looks at my face, staring and trying to focus on me.

"I won't let anyone go anywhere," I repeat gently. His shoulders relax, his body leaning towards mine.

"You don't have to worry," I tell him. "I'm here."

His head lands on my shoulder, hand still pressing mine tight against his chest as his arm finds my waist, body wracking with sobs.

"It's okay. Slow your breathing," I say softly, my hand finding his hair and holding him close against me. "Focus on me and slow your breathing."

He's trying, I can tell by the way he gasps against my chest in even tempo that he's trying to regain his breath. His skin is hot against mine, body wet with sweat. Maybe I should get this shirt off of him, take away the sticking cotton and allow his skin to feel the cool morning air against it to prevent overstimulation. Or maybe the sudden change would throw him into more distress. I don't know what to do, what to offer.

"Do you want me to distract you?" I ask. At this he lifts his head slightly, a small 'what?' Asking for me to repeat the question. "Do you want me to distract you?" I repeat, anxious I've said something wrong.

He seems to think for a moment, his heart still beating at a concerning rate.

"How long have you been reading?" He finally asks, eyeing the book I'd practically thrown to the edge of the bed in my panic.

"A few hours," I say. "Started reading when you went to sleep."

He nods, going silent once more for a few more minutes. I focus on his hair, how some curls wrap perfectly around my fingertips, how soft his hair is even though he doesn't take proper care of it.

"Is it any good?" He asks softly, his mouth against my neck as he tries to relax.

Okay, talk about the book. Book with dead parents. Ah, fuck.

"Not... particularly," I admit. "The first one was better."

"Yeah?" Mike asks. "How so?"

Well, Mike. This is a V.C. Andrews novel. So there's an unsettling amount of incest that serves a horrifying point that I don't think you wanna hear about right now because that's gonna take several hours for me to explain. I wish you'd asked sooner.

"...questionable decisions," I decide is how I'll phrase it.

"Sounds like me," he mutters against my skin.

"I promise you it isn't," I mutter back, trying to think of what to say next.

Mike doesn't say anything, still breathing hard against my skin but finally gaining a steady rhythm. His body shakes less, my fingers gently combing through his hair as I finally speak again.

"It's something you'd laugh at if you felt better," I feel stupid, useless as I try to bring him back to me. But it seems to work, his shaking decreasing as he focuses on my words. "The main character is... dramatic, and... passionate."

I feel his smile against my skin, his fingers stroking my waist. "Oh?" He asks.

"Mm-hmm," I say. He hums, waiting for me to continue. And I'm not sure if I should.

"What's the plot?" He asks. Not something you should hear in your state, Michael. Lots of people die.

"It's about..."

Fucking half the town out of spite.

"...family."

That's one way to put it.

"And... doing what's right."

By burning a house down.

"And taking care of those you love."

Well, at least that point is accurate.

He seems content with this, pulling me down onto the bed once more and keeping me close.

"Are you okay?" I ask him carefully.

"I will be," he says softly. "Thank you. For caring."

"Of course I care," I say with a small laugh of nervous relief. "I love you."

Oh.

Oh.

Oh motherfucker, no.

"What?" Mike asks in a small voice, his body going still, mine going stiff.

Goddammit.

We've been together for about a year. And this is a normal point to finally say the words to each other, a sweet moment of realization and commitment that I'd been wanting to have. And I'd been trying to find the right moment, wanting to say it while he serves pancakes in the morning that he douses in syrup because he hates them dry. To say it when he pulls me close at night, taking a deep breath as he smells my hair. When he falls asleep on the couch or with his head on my lap. And maybe he's wanted to say it too, the way his eyes linger on me when I spin around the room with his sister, or when I fix her hair before walking her out the door, or when I slip out said door to return to my own home only to find myself back here the next day anyways, unable to stay away.

But this is the wrong moment. A moment of fear and terror and I have been selfish enough to dare utter such words that he may not even reciprocate while he's in such a vulnerable state. Shit.

"What did you say?" Mike asks, pulling away to look into my face, suddenly awake and clear of any fog that had been torturing him.

I can't speak. I can't tell him. What if he doesn't feel the same way? Or worse, what if he says it back in a desperation for approval after such pressure has been placed upon him to respond. Or what if he convinces himself he feels the same way only because I do?

"I- Shouldn't-" My head is shaking, eyes wide in worry as I try to think of a response.

"Shouldn't?" He says in the most heartbreaking voice.

"No!" This is all wrong! It all sounds wrong.

"Oh," he says quietly, eyes casted downwards.

"No, wait a minute. This is wrong-" I stutter, my hands shaking slightly.

"I heard you the first time," He says flatly, eyes avoiding mine.

"I'm sorry," I blurt out. "I didn't mean to say anything."

"Then stop saying things," He says sharply, pulling away and turning to face the room.

"I'm not- I can't-" One of the ways Mike and I understand each other is by the way vulnerability makes us choke, gagging on sincere words for fear of rejection and becoming fools. And this time is one of them, even if I'm fighting against it. The silence is too long as I choke on my own tongue.

"It's fine," he says. He stands from the bed, not looking back at me. "I'm gonna take a shower."

I open my mouth to speak, my mind urging me to extend my hand in explanation. But he walks quickly, opening and shutting the door before I can even begin to put the words together in my mind. And I'm alone. With no one but my book to offer comfort.

I try to read. Try to focus on Cathy's piss poor plan that ends with her toes broken because of her terrible husband that she married to avoid her adoptive father. (Don't ask.) But all I can think about is what I should have said. And what Mike must be thinking. Of course he misunderstood me, his mind still racing from adrenaline and nightmares of losing his sister, addled by his sleep medication that would still be in effect. Vulnerable situations are already tricky with Mike, who'd lost his family young and had been forced to create his own stability with no comfort or care returned to him until the past few years when he finally began to create a new inner circle. It was understandable that he was gun shy around this sort of topic. And his already darkened mind earlier today? What a horrible day for a moment like this.

It feels like an eternity, but it must have only been about half an hour when Mike comes racing back into the room. Wet, towel crudely wrapped around his waist and holding up his hand as he rushed towards the bed.

"There's blood on here," he said. "Who's is it?"

I squint as I try to look, reaching out for his hand. He offers it quickly, and at the sight I remember. My thigh. Earlier when he'd gripped it so hard, nails digging in. I can see the blood underneath his nails, dark and most likely having just been noticed by him.

"Earlier when you were upset you grabbed my thigh," I say. Within seconds he's on the bed, ripping the sheet off of me and dripping water all over the place. It's not exactly a pretty sight, cuts from where his nails had dragged and sunk into me. His eyes go wide, cheeks turning pink with shame.

"Jesus," he says. "I didn't mean to."

"I know, you were scared," I say. "Don't worry about it."

"Let me clean this," he says, moving to stand from the bed.

"Mike, we need to talk," I say, grabbing his wrist. He doesn't stop, trying to pull his arm free.

"After I clean this."

"No, now," I say. My voice sounds so much sharper than it should in a situation like this, like a command rather than a request. But he finally stops his rush, his eyes meeting mine as he stands still, gripping the towel around his waist as he contemplates.

"I left the water running," he finally says.

"Clean me in there," I offer thoughtlessly. He raises an eyebrow at me but doesn't question it, tugging me up by my hand and not letting go as we walk to the bathroom in silence.

The water stings on my cuts as Mike kneels in front of me, his body between my slightly parted legs as his hands wash me carefully, lathering soap and working at my thigh with careful concentration. 'It's been ten minutes. Say something, dumbass,' I think to myself.

"I love you," Mike blurts out suddenly. His hands don't rubbing soap onto my thigh, and his eyes don't meet mine. "And you don't have to feel the same way, but you should know that I do."

There's another long moment of silence, dread filling my chest.

"Why are you saying this?" I finally ask. He looks up at me with an unintentional glare.

"What?" He asks sharply.

"Are you saying this for me or for you?" I ask. His brows furrow.

"I don't know what you mean," he says.

"Earlier I said I love you and that was a mistake-"

"You don't need to remind me."

"No, my timing was a mistake. You were vulnerable," I say quickly, sliding quickly down the shower wall to join him on the floor of the bathtub. "Are you saying this because I said it or because you mean it?"

Realization seems to finally sink through, Mike blinking at me slowly.

"So, you love me?"

"I'm sorry that I was an idiot earlier-"

"But you love me?"

"I've been trying to say it for months, but I couldn't-"

Mike's kiss is hard and clumsy, teeth clicking together and making us both draw away in a fit of stupid, teenage like giggles from the way he'd tried to be romantic and jump on me, my face now covered in the orange scented soap from his hands.

"You need to lead with that next time," he says, laughing and covering my face in quick kisses without care that he's smearing the soap onto his face too. "You had me scripting our conversations for the next month in here."

"I was trying. You know I can't- that-" I can hardly respond between his kisses, tasting awful but so sweet I can't help but want more.

"I love you," he says. Then he says it again, and again. Like a dam has been broken and he can't stop the river spilling forth. "I love you."

"I love you too," I finally say, relieved and melting into his touch under the warm stream that he drags me under, holding me close to his body.

Later, as we lay in bed, I finally tell him the real plot of my book, to which he says "I take it back, get out," before dragging me under the covers to repeat his devotion again and again until we can't say it anymore. Coherently, that is.

                             ¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

I'm gonna be fr, I haven't been happy with my writing lately and that's mostly due to my packed schedule. This is a draft I've been working on in bits and pieces for the last couple weeks when I've had a spare moment at work, and honestly will probably regurgitate at some point in the future when I have the time and energy to get more detailed with this concept in a more detailed fic. But for right now, I did want to put this out as a drabble. So, I hope you enjoyed it, and I promise I'll try to get some more properly fleshed out content out soon for y'all <3

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 @jhutchissupercool . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

               •▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

#josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #jhutch #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt fnaf #fnaf mike schmidt #fnaf mike #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x reader smut #mike schmidt x you #mike schimdt x reader #mike schimdt smut #mike schimdt x you #mike schmidt x y/n #jhutch1992 #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson fluff #josh hutcherson imagine

[krisdreaming]

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x gn!reader

WC: 1k

Summary: Among other things, Kiyoomi loves that you always seem to know what he's thinking.

A/N: Hi it's me, writing for Sakusa again even tho I feel like I know next to nothing about his character outside of reading other fics :D

One of the things Kiyoomi loves about you the most is that you always know. He knows he isn't the most expressive guy, but somehow you still manage to read him like an open book.

Take the last party Bokuto threw for the Black Jackals as an example. With everyone's significant others in the mix, it had ended up being quite the crowd. Everyone was talking and laughing, and as the evening wore on he was starting to get sick of the commotion. Bokuto slung an arm around his neck as he laughed loudly at a joke Hinata had told, and Kiyoomi had gritted his teeth, hoping his teammate would move on to his next prey soon enough.

Across the room, he saw you in conversation with Meian and his girlfriend. You happened to glance in his direction, and with a few more words and a smile, you stepped away from them and started toward him.

"Hey, Kiyoomi." At your approach, Bokuto greeted you and finally slid away from him. Kiyoomi let out a sigh, and you laughed softly. "Are you ready to go? I'm starting to get tired." There had been a sparkle in your eyes that suggested that wasn't entirely the truth.

"Yeah, I'm ready," He said too quickly, "Let's go home." You'd said your goodbyes and were stepping out into the cool night air within a few minutes. Immediately, he'd felt the weight lifting from him.

"Thanks," He breathed out softly, glancing sideways at you on the way to the car.

"It was really warm in there, wasn't it?" You said in response, sliding your hand in the crook of his elbow and giving his arm a comforting squeeze. You flashed a smile at him, and that was that.

Then, a few weeks ago, he'd forgotten his lunch. It had irked him, because you'd prepared it for him just the way you knew he liked, and now your work would be going to waste. On top of that, there were few things he enjoyed less than buying a quick meal at a convenience store, especially when he had practice for the rest of the day. It was always as though he could feel it settling wrong in his stomach. The fact that he knew nothing about the methods of its preparation didn't help matters any.

Still, when you'd texted him offering to bring his lunch for him, he'd refused. He knew you had a busy day, and the last thing you needed was to waste part of your own lunch break to bring him the meal he'd forgotten. Just this once, he was sure he could select something that would do from the convenience store down the street.

That was why he was surprised to see you mere moments after practice broke for lunch. You lifted the bento box with a smile, showing off the matching one you must have prepared for yourself.

"I knew the rest of your day would just feel completely off without having your lunch," You'd said with a shrug, "And I just wanted you to be able to practice at your best!" You'd shared the lunch break with him, and after that hour with you and the meal you'd prepared for him, he threw himself gladly into the remainder of practice. He'd felt on top of the world.

Just two days ago, he'd come home from practice more than ready for the upcoming weekend. The week had felt like it dragged on forever, and he wanted nothing more than to take a long, hot shower and then crawl beneath the fresh, clean sheets with you tucked against him. He just wanted to forget that the rest of the world existed.

When he stepped through the door, he was immediately met with the comforting scents of the dinner you were preparing. "Welcome home!" You'd chirped, and he'd let his hands linger on your hips for just a few moments as he pressed a kiss to your lips. It felt so good to be home.

"So, I thought we could go grocery shopping this evening," You'd said as you turned back to the stove. "We're getting kind of low on some things, and I just planned out a few meals for next week."

He felt a pit forming in his stomach, but he bit back his sigh. "Okay, sure." He tried to keep his irritation out of his tone. He knew you hated doing the shopping on your own, especially in the evenings. You'd turned toward him and tilted your head, assessing him for a moment before you turned to the cupboard and reached for some plates to set the table. You didn't say anything.

You were halfway through the meal before you spoke up. "You know, I think we should just stay home tonight." You said suddenly. "It's already getting dark, and I bet the selection would be better tomorrow afternoon, anyway."

His lips parted in silence for a few moments. "Are you sure?" He finally asked.

You grinned. "Yup. Let's just relax tonight, okay?"

"Okay by me," He said gratefully. You'd insisted he get in the shower while you cleaned up the dishes, and by the time he was out of the bathroom, the dishes were drying and the counters were wiped down. He found you in your pajamas, and you beckoned him to join you in bed.

He didn't need any convincing, and the moment he was under the covers, you'd maneuvered his head onto your chest, your fingers scratching soothingly through his curls.

"You had a tough week, huh?" You murmured. He only hummed in response, the 'tough week' already fading into memory under your gentle ministrations.

"Sorry you didn't get to go shopping," He'd finally whispered, and he felt the press of your lips on the crown of his head.

"I think this is a better use of our time," you had said softly.

There have been countless moments just like these. Moments when you show him again and again that you love him, that you see him. Every single time, it becomes more and more apparent to him. There's one more thing he wants to make sure you to know.

This is one thing he needs to tell you, in case you never do quite work it out on your own. When he sinks down on one knee, he's never been more certain of anything. "I love you so much, and there's no one I'd rather spend my life with than you. Every single day is yours, if you'll marry me."

#haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader

[thelastofhyde]

you cut your hair, and take some space. (1)

pairing. narcos!javier peña x fem!reader

synopsis. an anthology of events that precede and procede the termination of you and your father's best friend's sexual relationship. this is part 1 of 3 ! (part 2)

warnings. no use of y/n! all spanish text is followed by immediate translation (please note that i am fluent in castilian spanish, therefore some words/phrases may differ from that of other hispanic countries), age gap , student!reader, dbf!javi, post-s3!javi, officer!javi bc i said so, break up au, mutual pining, forbidden lovers kind of vibes, reader has a healthy relationship with her parents, so much crying ( reader spends half her time crying over javi p which is honestly a mood ), violence, nondescript depictions of sa ( not javi ), smut ( creampie, breeding kink through the roof, domesticity kink?? javi just wants to love and be loved and start a family, dacryphilia, indecent use of a credit card, spanking, dirty talk, prostitution kink?? i feel like i'm making these up at this point, + a hell of a lot more ) this fic is based on bsc by maisie peters except this has a happy ending bc im a sucker for mr. peña :( not all warnings listed here appear in this part, these are warnings for the fic as a whole !

word count. 15k

hyde’s input. this was written over the course of four months and could easily be used in court to prove i am, in fact, unequivocally in love with one mr. javier peña. if you take the time to read it, just know i appreciate it so much. i really poured my heart and soul into this and, as someone who's been writing for years, it's been so long since i've written something so self-indulgent that's brought me nothing but joy to write. as the fic has surpassed 40k words, meaning it would likely crash the tumblr site for anyone trying to read it, i've decided to post it in three parts. the fic will be posted in full on ao3 once all three parts are available on tumblr!

“i told you, corazón mia (my heart),” he can't meet your eyes. “made it clear from the start i wasn't looking for anything serious.” “i know,” you heave in a breath, hold back a sob. “but if it wasn't serious, why'd you treat me like it was?”

I cut my nose to save some face You cut your hair and take some space.

The mirror is not clean enough to see yourself.

Where there are usually your eyes, there’s a discoloured splotch of brown. A crack runs down the left of what should be your face. Someone’s taken it upon themselves to draw a cartoon penis just where your mouth is. But in your drunken haze and laser focus, you don’t care enough to notice. All you see is the spot where your nose is, a tiny ball of silver nestled just above your right nostril.

It’s something new to fidget with.

On the flip side, it stings like a bitch. Or, more appropriately, like the tequila shots that led you to this run-down tattoo parlour.

You wonder if, come the morning and mental clarity, you’ll regret it.

If you do, you’ll blame him.

Your night was going fine. Good, even. And, with a lack of good nights in the recent week, that was an accomplishment.

You’d dressed up, let loose, had fun. A friend on either arm and a drink close at hand, you’d giggled and gossiped your way through this impromptu girls’ night.

They’d ambushed you, in a way, forced their way through the barricade of tissues and take-out boxes into your apartment. A skimpy dress tossed at your head and four hands dragging you, limb by limb, into the shower.

Get some dinner, hit the town, get fucked up. That was the plan they set out for you.

You skipped dinner, dove head-first into the town.

You were careful all night to never speak of him.

One part fearful it would summon him, another part embarrassed to admit just who you’d gotten tangled up in. A third part, tucked away in a locked closet, ready to do it all over again.

And then it happened.

You didn’t say his name, no.

Not aloud.

You thought it, for just a second, hearing the person beside you at the bar order the same drink you’d watched him nurse time after time. It wasn’t him but, instead, a man far too short and a clean-cut kind of handsome to even begin to compare to the ex-agent.

But it was enough to make you want to leave.

Giving up your space, you’d made your way back to your girls and made up some little white lie, surprised neither of them called you out on it- what kind of bar doesn’t have white wine?

They left to find someplace with wine, you left to find some peace of mind.

The bar they dragged you into was familiar, the setting of many of your father’s stories. It only took you walking through the door, tugging down the dress-too-short, to hear your name called across the floor.

“Hey kiddo!” Your dad’s a tell-tale kind of drunk, his eyes giving away even the smallest sip of alcohol he has. He was just tipsy, scooting his way out of a tattered booth to wrap you up in his arms. It felt as nice as it did guilt-inducing, knowing you’d been avoiding his calls all week since The Incident. A punishment to yourself more than one aimed at him. “You here yourself? Could join us for the night, if you like. Ain’t that right, boys?”

It was only then that you’d realised two men were sat within the booth, collars undone and ties loosened after a week’s work.

There were usually three of them.

"We’re just waiting on Peña." Oh god, it made you feel sick. Heart in your throat, stomach at your feet. His name no longer feels real, not when spoken by anyone but you.

“And raising bets on his tardiness,” one of your father’s friends said. You recognised him from a few of the barbecues and Christmas parties your dad's thrown. He's nice, responsible. Married, to a woman his own age. “I’m saying he’s chasing some tail. God knows he could use some stress relief. Boy’s been wound up all week, nearly bit my head off for asking him about some files."

It’s a wonder none of the three men- one a retired lawyer, the other two members of the force- noticed the blood drain from your face.

“My guess is he’s pulled some muscle in his back and can’t get himself out of bed,” a nudge from your father’s elbow, delivered straight to your ribs. “Whatcha think, kiddo?”

You didn’t have an answer.

You didn’t get to give an answer.

“You need to quit speaking ‘bout me like you’re not a whole decade my senior, viejo (old man),” it came from behind you and threatened you to look. Like the foolish final-girl in a slasher, you ignored your basic instincts and glanced over your shoulder.

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but you know what you were hoping for.

Tired eyes, chewed lips, unkept facial hair. A twitch of sadness drawn between his brows and the stains of cigarette ash on a worn-out suit.

Javier Peña was none of that.

The suit, grey. One that fit him all too well and had you wishing you could stain it with your drink.

The signature moustache, perfectly groomed, sitting perched above the bow of his pouty lips, rosy-red and fresh for picking.

His eyes have always given him away but, staring down at you in that moment, they read only as passive, unaffected.

It was like, nothing.

And, yes, that’s what you’d asked for- from now on, whenever you see me, can you at least pretend that none of this happened?

But he's smart enough to know you didn't mean it, right?

“Hey officers, sorry to interrupt but,” a hand curled around your arm. It tugged and you let yourself be inched away from heavy brown eyes and your father’s smile. “She’s ours for the night. We’re going clubbing!”

That was never part of the plan.

Neither was skipping dinner, though.

You caught the back of him as you were dragged away, some pleading from your father to take it easy and call me in the morning, and noticed it only then.

His hair, freshly cut.

“‘S getting too long,” a mumbled sort of thing, hidden in your neck, spoken against your pulse. A kiss placed upon it, and then another for extra measure. Fingers dragging through his hair, ridding him of the knots your very same hands had worked into them an hour of passionate touching ago. “Lo sé (I know).”

A pause of silence. The blissful moan birthed from nails on his scalp. And, then, “no. It’s nice, I like it.”

That puppy-dog stare, so particular to the cool-down moments between you, meets your own, chin propped upon your sternum. He’s sweet like this, honeyed skin and pleasant smiles.

“Yeah?” He asks, like he even needs to. “You like it, corazón (sweetheart)?” You opt for a hummed confirmation, finger tracing over the arch of his nose. “Guess I better keep it this way, then.”

Now he’s gone and chopped the overgrown curls off.

In a way, it feels like he’s cut you off with them.

We don’t speak cause it’s too tricky But if I’m tricky, why’d you kiss me?

The next time you see him, a wedding is taking place.

He sits on the groom’s side, you sit on the bride’s.

It feels unreasonable to be surprised by his presence. Why wouldn’t he be here, sitting four rows from the back, at his cousin’s brother-in-law’s wedding?

The bride is gorgeous, the groom is in tears. The priest drones on a little too long.

Somewhere between the exchanging of vows, and the ceremonial kissing, and the cheering of guests, your instincts get the better of you and you glance back at him.

He’s already staring right back, eyes ignited with something that weakens your knees and shakes your confidence. The newlyweds walk down the aisle, cut through your line of sight. He’s still staring at you when they’ve passed.

The reception takes place in the events room of some glammed-up hotel, the kind you can barely afford the one night you’re booked in for.

An open bar, a local band. The catering is tasteful, handpicked by the couple, and the table you feast at is so far away from his that you don’t get that chance to see if he chose the chicken or the beef.

You find a friend behind the bar, in the shape of a bottle and toothpick-impaled olives.

You dance till your feet hurt, slip away to your table, take off your heels. You’re back on the dance floor in time to catch the bouquet, too busy basking in the envy of the other women to notice his eyes burning a hole in the back of your head.

If it weren’t for the dent in your bank account made by the room you booked, you’d gladly dance away the whole night. But if a bed with a view costs double your rent, you’ll be damned if you don’t get to sleep in it.

So you stumble to the elevator.

Clutch your heels and flowers to your chest, struggle to remember your floor number. The fifth floor seems to ring a bell, but it might’ve been the eighth floor. Your room key! Maybe, you hope, that’ll have your floor number on it. You struggle with your purse’s zipper, trying your best to pry it open.

You succeed, but at what cost? Heels and bouquet tumble to the floor, thumping and clunking as they knock against it, flower petals falling loose.

You try to bend down, stretch your fingers out to grasp the clasps, seize the stems. A wave of exhaustion mixed with too much alcohol washes over you and you stand up straight again. Take a calming breath, do a little song and dance before reaching down again.

“Déjame. (Let me.)”

Scuffed shoes come into view as you’re halfway down, bent at the waist and holding your balance with one arm against a wall. You stand up straight, too fast, lose your balance and stumble forward.

He catches you.

For a moment, it feels like you’ve never left his arms.

“C’mon, let’s get you to your room.” You hate the way he ends his sentence, no term of endearment and no impure intentions.

He asks for your floor, you give him your key. He punches the number into the elevator and it shakes to life.

Neither one of you makes an attempt to part. There’s a chance he pulls you closer to him. You let yourself melt, regardless, muscles relaxing and sinking into his arms.

He’s still warm. He’s still steady. but his cologne’s different and it makes your eyes sting.

You’d warned him he was about to run out of his signature bottle, made a note to buy him another one for his birthday or Christmas, whichever came first.

“You look like you had fun,” he rasps out, eventually, as the elevator slips past the fifth floor.

“I did,” you tell a partial truth. You would have had more fun, if he’d stood at your side, ate at your table, danced in your arms. But you can’t say that, because he doesn’t want that.

“I’m glad.”

It turns out your floor is the ninth. He’s careful to guide you out the mobile-box, hand on your hip, pressing you to his side. Your heels dangling from one of his fingers and the bouquet gripped in his palm, smacking against his thigh every other step. A little down the hall and there you find it, your precious and expensive home for the night.

It’s easier to let him open the door, he tells you.

It’s easier to let him guide you to bed, you tell yourself.

Dropping the heels on the floor, he disappears out of your line of sight and you stare motionless at the ceiling above, buzzing in your brain and pain in your heart.

You’ve never shared a space like this with him, one that’s hollow and decayed. The shell of a creature that’s long abandoned it, grown too big for its home.

Your eyes sting all over again, this time enough to brim with unfallen tears.

A thud against the nightstand.

You roll onto your side and find he’s still here, a glass of water and some painkillers lay to rest at your bedside. The first tear gives way, running down your cheek and dropping to the crisp white sheets below. Even more fall as he raises a damp cloth to your face, wiping away smudged mascara and bringing your lips back to their natural colour.

The undressing is gentle and so unlike his usual impatience.

Fingertips drag down each inch of skin released as he unzips the back of your dress, tugging it down and folding it by your heels. The weight off your chest helps you breathe as he unhooks your bra. Left only in your underwear, the sheets ruffle as he drags them up your tired limbs and tucks them under your chin.

“Get in bed, please,” you plead like you have any right to ask that of him. “Javi.”

It’s the first time you’ve said his name since that night in May. His shoulders tense and release, his fingers smooth down his moustache. He looks like he’s going to fulfil your request, slip in behind you and wrap you up in his soft but steady embrace.

He looks like he wants to.

His back cracks as he bends down and presses a kiss.

Against your forehead, lips that linger.

Then, he stands up straight and walks out the door.

On the forehead, way up north Pressed the scar and found the source

Vermont, ‘98.

That’s where it all began.

Your dad, turning fifty.

Javi just hit forty.

It was someone in the station who had the wild idea they celebrate it together. The sheriff and the station’s rookie- really, a hardened, inching-out-of-a-fresh-retirement former DEA agent your father manipulated back into the force, some promise of a light workload and a hefty pension. With no need for money, you wonder why he ever accepted the offer.

Plans were set, money was put in a pot, and a wheel of fortune was spun. It landed on the northern state, a downpayment to rent a ski lodge placed within a matter of twenty-four hours.

Somewhere along the way, you’d been roped into joining this boys-only trip. Your dad argued you needed a break from studying. Your mother argued there needed to be a responsible adult to supervise your dad. and, well, a free holiday never hurt nobody, right?

Wrong.

The final evening, with a constant pounding of a hangover never-quite-nursed, a litter of bruises down your back from falling and a firmly closed chapter on any possible career as a ski prodigy you may have had, you trailed your way down to the only bar in the tiny ski town.

Textbooks on the table, glasses on your face.

A half-drank glass of cabernet, an empty plate.

Peaceful and quaint, until it wasn’t.

The cheer of a frat-boy out in the wild warrants the same response as hearing a lion’s roar in the dark of the Saharan night.

The kind you hear them before you see them, spilling through the door in their obnoxious jerseys and their face-painted cheeks. one wore the badge of honour, a giant Soon To Be shackled Married printed poorly onto the back of his jersey.

You put your head down, breathed more subtly.

The pride stormed their way over to the bar, pounding their fists onto the surface and gnashing their teeth, spit spilling down their mouth as they brutally tore into the bartender, demanding pints of beer and rounds of shots.

The key was to avoid eye contact, keep low and out of sight.

They dispersed through the area, sniffing out free booths and the occasional local to irritate out of their seats.

One of them found the jukebox and wasted his coin on blasting Pour Some Sugar On Me. The group of older women playing bingo scowled and made their way out of the joint, calling it for the night.

You got up to follow suit, hands slowly packing up your belongings and slinging your bag over your back.

Inching towards the exit, footsteps light as a feather.

“Woo! Look at you,” just as you were close to slipping out the door, a single member of the pack spotted you, prowling his way over. He already had his chest puffed out by the time you turned around. “Ain’t seen an ass like that since we left the city!”

Hardly charming. Tame, compared to other things frat boys have said to you.

“Why don’cha come join me and my buddies over there?” He nodded back at them, like they weren’t the obnoxious centres of everyone’s attention.

You were not scared of him, exactly. But you’ve seen where things can go. Heard about it, countless times, from your own father.

So you spoke with caution, gripping your bag a little tighter, “thanks, but I’ve got an early flight. Have a nice night-” He told you his name, like you cared. “Yeah, thanks, bye.”

And then you were stepping out into the quiet of the night.

Fresh air, cold enough to sting your lungs. You breathed it in like it was going out of fashion.

You barely got a moment to compose yourself before that grating voice was back in your ears.

“Oh don’t be a buzzkill!” He whined, you cringed. Took a step back, watched him move an inch. “It’s early, stay. Have a drink.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“To have fun?! C’mon, it’s too cold to be out here by yourself.”

“I have an early flight.”

“It’s just one drink, sweetheart. I ain’t asking you to sign your life away.”

A couple bumped past you both, weaved their way between you. His eyes trailed after them, your feet twisted around, carrying you away from him slowly, carefully. Best not to make yourself look like prey, not to this predator.

“Hey!” He called after you. Your steps sped up. “Where you going, sweetheart?”

It didn’t even matter that you were walking in the opposite direction of the ski lodge. You told yourself you would find your way back, once this lion was off your back.

“I ain’t done talkin’ to you!”

The lion pounced, sank his claws into your back and ripped through you.

Your hand flew out to break your fall, the contents of your bag spilling out onto the sidewalk.

Pain, the kind that stings. It nipped at your knees, and your hands, and your eyes. Pushed it down, pulled yourself up.

He froze, maybe surprised at his own actions, maybe waiting on the chance to pounce once more, this time with his fangs instead of his claws.

You wouldn’t give him the chance. Filled your bag, collected your senses and ran.

It was tricky on frozen ground, trying so hard to not look back.

He followed and you knew it, heard it. Roaring and growling, chasing you down streets you’d never walked.

You slipped, momentarily, slammed into a wall. A crossroads, go right or go left.

You don’t remember which direction you turned.

“Quit running, you bitch!”

He was still following, how was he still following?

Caving in, you glanced over your shoulder and saw the blurry figure of him running after you.

He was getting faster. Maybe you were getting slower.

You came to a screeching halt, body smacking into something solid. Eyes shut, mind alive. You feared the worst, hoped for the best, expected to open your eyes and find yourself trapped in a dead-end, nowhere to run from this predator.

Instead, you heard your name. Called softly, at first. Gentle, coaxing you to pay attention. The second time it was more urgent, worried and aggressive. You sank deeper into the wall, felt your feet shuffle on the gravel below.

“...Gotta let me know, nena,” the wall pulled you back from it, a firm grasp on your forearms. Your eyes opened and met his. “Fucking Christ, look at the state of you.”

You’d not known much about Javier Peña at the start of the trip.

Your dad had mentioned something about a family ranch. Your mom let it slip that he’d enjoyed the pumpkin pie she’d brought to the station’s Thanksgiving feast.

There’d been one time you’d caught the end of a conversation between him and your dad. Nothing concrete, just some shameful mutterings about Colombia and Los Pepes. You’d left once you heard your dad start to comfort the man, deciding your intruding on the moment had already gone too far.

You now knew he liked his whiskey, no ice. His coffee, no milk. His bread, no butter.

He didn’t like the mess of mixing things, and you had to wonder if it had always been this way. Or had he learned his lesson, the hard way? Mixed the wrong things, burnt his own blessings?

“You’re bleeding,” he announced it, fresh news for you.

A pleasant warmth thrummed through your veins as he took hold of your hand, inspecting it under his scrutiny.

His thumb swiped over your palm.

Your mouth winced, your arm pulled back.

He held you in place.

Something visceral shifted in him, enough to coax you to glance at him.

He was looking past you, eyes a deadly killer stalking their prey. You followed their line of sight and found the lion at the end of the street. Standing still, arms at his side, eyes a little wider than you remembered them. You’d not really been looking, in the first place.

The former agent twisted you behind him, an effortless shield. Took an urgent step toward the frat boy, and then another three.

You grasped at his sleeve and tugged him back, didn’t let him stray too far.

“I’m fine,” you lied. He didn’t believe you, furrowing his brow. “I’m just cold.”

He seemed to hesitate, softened by a tremble in your voice.

He glanced back to see the lion was retreating, staggering his way back to the pride of frat boys. A perfect opportunity for him to attack, from behind and unexpectedly.

“Leave it, he’s not-” The sting in your eye got the best of you and a tear tracked itself down your cheek. You wiped it away with your scraped hand, leaving behind a smear of gravel and blood. “It’s not worth it.”

You said it not for the agent’s sake, but the boy’s.

The agent puffed out a breath of frustration, then followed your plea. Turned back to you, licked his thumb and swiped off the dirt on your cheek. Pulled you in, against him once more, and pressed a deliberate kiss against your forehead.

It was instinctual, no thought placed behind his action.

He did it because that seemed to be in his nature: to nurture.

“C’mon, the lodge is this way,” he pointed in some direction.

You didn’t bother paying attention, more than willing to follow wherever he led.

“Put this on.” It was not posed as an option, not when the agent tugged off his coat and draped it over your shoulders.

Somewhere along the path, you realised you’d lost your key to your cabin. Your dad carried the other.

Officer Peña offered to take you to him, drinking down in the ski lodge’s bar with the rest of the men.

You shook your head, told him your dad couldn’t see you in that state.

He took you back to his own cabin instead.

Cleaned up your hands, put on the fire, poured you a drink.

Then fucked you into his bed, till you clawed and sobbed around him.

If you don’t love me, Why’d you act it?

Late june brings nothing but gloom.

You get bored quick, no college to fill your days. Pick up extra shifts, hope to combat the empty feeling in your chest with the rush hour traffic that torpedoes it’s way through the cafe.

Friends invite you out, you rarely go. They tease you’re becoming a recluse, and that just makes you want to shut yourself in even more.

Tonight, you’re appeasing them.

Some line dance event, downtown in a bar that’s only gimmick seems to be a worn-down mechanical bull. It’s missing a horn and no one seems to know why.

Truth be told, you don’t want to go.

You want to stuff your face with take-out while you melt into your couch, watching reruns of the first season of Friends and drooling over Joey till you forget about another smooth-talking, raven haired man.

Here you are instead, fighting against the cheesy cowgirl hat till it sits on your head correctly.

In the mirror, it’s still lopsided.

The clock sits at eight forty-seven.

They’re 2 minutes late.

You give up, decide to pretend you want the hat this way. Slip on your jacket, do a sweep around your apartment: windows locked, flat iron off, fridge closed. Grabbing your purse, you unzip it and wrestle around in it’s contents, searching for your keys.

You pull on something and- it’s a pack a gum.

Dive back in, search again.

An empty tube of lipbalm.

Third time’s a charm, you think, and try once more. Something scratches your fingers, coaxes you to tug it out and inspect it.

A broken earring.

A familiar car honk’s outside, you stay frozen in place, staring at the broken hoop and counting one, two, three.

Bile burns the back of your throat.

He opens on the fifth knock.

Any other night, he practically rips the door off it’s hinges and tugs you in, before you can so much as raise your fist for a second knock.

Maybe he was busy, on the toilet or on the phone. You don’t think too much into it.

He steps aside, lets you in. Stands so far away, it’s hard to read his eyes.

The air’s uncomfortably quiet.

You think’s it’s all in your head, self-doubt at an all time high after a bad day.

“My earring snapped today,” there’s a growing pit in your stomach, just from staring at him. He looks so distant, not present. Mind a galaxy away. "Your favourite ones, too. You know, the little hoops with-”

“The hearts dangling from them.” He finishes, on your behalf, and it’s the first green flag you see. Green enough to lull yourself into a faux calm.

The silence returns.

You rock backwards on your heels, glance around the apartment. Try to find what has changed, because this no longer feels like the place you’ve grown so familiar with. And neither does the man observing you from a distance, hands glued to his sides.

He should be touching you by now, in any way he could: his foot bumping against yours under his dining table, his hand trailing patterns over your shoulders as you settle into his side on the couch, his tongue delving between your folds as you lay splayed out on his sheets.

You notice his bedroom door is shut.

It’s never been shut before.

“Is- Am I-” You don’t have to find the words, but the courage to speak them. “Do you have someone over?”

He blinks, slowly.

It’s hard to tell if it’s from guilt.

“Because if you do, that’s fine!” It’s not. “I understand,” You don’t.

He doesn’t answer.

You keep talking.

“Totally chill, I’ll comeback some other night. Or, you can just come by mine! Yeah, actually, that sounds better. Won’t risk interrupting again-”

“This needs to stop.”

You don’t have to question it.

You do, anyway.

“What?”

“Us. This-” He’s pointing between you both, a little haphazardly. It’s like he’s rushing to get the words out, get it over with. Get you out his apartment. “Thing we’re doing. It’s done.”

“I don’t underst-”

He cuts you off with your name. “Why’d you come here tonight?”

He’s stern.

Not in the way that makes you want to bend to his will and indulge in all his sins. But in a way that makes you feel dirty, wrong. A child scorned for touching fire and getting themselves burnt.

“I,” you’re beginning to wish there was someone else in his bed, so she could stroll out of his room in one of his stupidly soft shirts and interrupt this conversation. “Uh, I had a bad day.”

“Okay,” he nods. Smooths a hands over his chin, pops out his hip. “What’s that got anything to do with me?”

Everything, you want to tell him.

For every single thing that went wrong throughout your day, seeing Javi gave you something to look forward to.

“I just thought-”

“You thought, what?” His face twists up, just like your insides. He’s angry and you’re the one to blame. “This isn’t a- I’m not your boyfriend.”

I know, you mouth.

Because you do know. Repeat it to yourself all the time.

When he calls to make sure you got home safe.

When you sneak off to pee in the middle of the night and are welcomed back to bed with a forceful tug into his chest, a sleepy, gruffed out ‘where’d you go?’ whispered into your neck.

When he picks up on the things you say, remembers silly things like your favourite toilet paper brand and the exact milk to cereal ratio you enjoy.

Javier Peña is not your boyfriend.

So why does he act like it?

“Look, kid, you’re young, and I know-”

Kid.

That makes you angry.

He wasn’t calling you kid when he bent you over your parents’ bathroom counter.

“Don’t call me kid.”

“And I know,” he pushes through your protest, keeps up the distance. “This can be a lot at your age. Don’t blame you for getting caught up. But whatever you think you’re feeling for me, it’s not-”

“Is this about the p-” The word won’t come out of you, so your change the verbiage. “The hospital? Because I told you, Javi. We’ve been safe. Safer than a pair of purity-ring wearing teenagers-”

“No, this is about me needing to do the right-”

At this point, you’re just interrupting one another.

Fighting to get in the next word, frowning at what you do hear.

He tilts his head back and pinches the bridge of his nose, a groan leaving his cracked lips. You’d imagined him doing that tonight, but not like this.

Eventually, the back-and-forth stops.

Silence.

You take the lead.

“So, what? That’s it just... over?”

“I told you, corazón mía (my heart),” he can’t meet your eyes. “Made it clear from the start I wasn’t looking for anything serious.”

“I know,” you heave in a breath, hold back a sob. “But if it wasn’t serious, why’d you treat me like it was?”

It takes him a few minutes to answer. There’s a twitch, in his hand, reaching up only to drop back down at his side.

Usually, he wipes your tears before they get chance to fall.

The rug at your feet turns darker with each wet spot that drops.

“I got caught up,” his eyes seem so sad, so lost. Staring across the ocean of his living room, searching for a lighthouse to pull him safe to shore. But he won’t let you be that. “In the way you deserve to be treated, instead of some sleazy secret.”

He breathes out your name, the most painful melody you’ve ever heard.

“This has to end,” you’re unsure if it’s only you he’s attempting to convince. “Before someone gets hurt.”

Too late, you want to say.

You’re already being torn apart by his hands, and he’s standing ten feet away.

“Corazón, I’m so sor-”

The car honks, again.

You breathe in, and find it’s hard, snot piling up in your nose and tears splashing down your cheers.

Another honk.

You never make it to the line dance.

You curl in on yourself, instead, and fall asleep to the sound of Joey and Chandler’s bickering.

Love’s a verb And not a bandage

In retrospect, it’s hard to tell where the lines begin to blur.

A promise of casual, turned into something fragile.

Whenever you think about it, for too long, your mind carries you back to the same night. A few months after Vermont, you don’t recall the exact date.

All you remember is a pounding at your front door.

1 am. Too late to be causing ruckus.

You nearly trip over discarded shoes, curse earlier-you for assuming you would remember their existence. Undo the bolt, grab the key and then-

Pause.

This could be anyone, anything.

You check the peephole, find exactly who you were hoping for.

He’s on you like a moth to a flame, pressing you flush against him the instant he can fit through the crack in your doorway. Mouth on mouth, hands on waist. The door thuds as he closes it behind you both, you’re too distracted to notice.

You let him invade your senses.

Smell his aged leather and nicotine thrill. Feel his strong arms and bulging crotch. Hear his laboured breaths and muttered pleasantries. Taste his whiskey tongue and metallic lips-

You pull back. He follows.

It’s flattering, his inability to get enough of you, but you halt him nonetheless.

Cup his cheeks, pull down his face, and stare.

“My dad finally figure out who those panties in your glove-box belong to, Peña?” It’s meant to be a joke.

There’s nothing funny about his bleeding lip and split eyebrow.

He graces no response, dives back into you and submerses himself in your touch. Kisses you slow, with deliverance, his final mission to arrest all your sense of self till you turn yourself in to his embrace.

Only as you pass by those discarded shoes do you realise he’s inching you both deeper into the dark of your apartment.

This time, you do trip over them.

It’s okay though, Javi’s there to catch you.

He finds refuge in your neck, burrowing in deep, mouthing at the skin like a dog does a wound. Your arm shoots out to find a light-switch. A warm glow fills the apartment, bathing you both in an orange hue.

The gold of his skin shines brighter.

The red on his skin appears darker.

“What happened to you?” You don’t need to worry about him. And, yet, doing so comes naturally.

“S’not important,” it’s spoken against your skin, as if he intends to seep his gravelled tone into your pores and have it grow a new life for itself within you. A gentle scraping of his teeth sends a shiver down your spine. “I’ll tell you later.”

Later with Javi never seems to come.

‘If you’re not busy, I’ll make you dinner later.’

‘Keep it up and I’ll be fucking that attitude out of you later.’

‘I’ll get these back to you later.’

He’d never made you that dinner.

He’d dragged you into the station’s bathrooms and fucked the attitude out of you only seconds after.

You’d never gotten those panties back.

You decide to grant him no time for later. Shove him down into a seat at your dining table-for-two. Roll your eyes as he asks if you’re “gonna put on a show for me, corazón?”

The makeshift first-aid kit put together by your mother resides at the back of a cupboard, hidden by mugs and cups. It takes several minutes and a smashed glass to manoeuvre it out. You step over the pieces of glass and head straight back to the table, dumping out the contents.

You click your tongue, point your finger. He scoots the chair back from the table and you slip between the space. Press back against the surface, stand between his parted knees and do your best to not look down at the jeans that grant him no modesty.

Distractions are not welcomed, your patient needs tending to.

He’s insisting he’s okay, yet he’s hissing when you dab at the tears in his flesh with betadine. His hands find a place upon your hips and give a tight squeeze as you press butterfly stitches to his no-longer bleeding brow.

“I,” he starts up, an indefinite time of silence passing between you both. He shakes his head.“It’s stupid.”

“Javi,” you stroke your finger over his jaw, tilt his head back to meet your eyes. “The less you tell me, the more I’ll worry.”

It does the trick, unlocks his tongue.

“I was just wanting one drink, was gonna head home... Or to you, after. I had a shitty day at work and... You probably don’t care about that,” he has no idea you’ll hang onto those words for the weeks to come, wondering how to lighten his workload, ease his tension. “Heard some loud-mouth kid beside me at the bar, he was talking to this girl. She gets up to leave, he follows. I was just gonna go back to nursing my drink but-”

He hisses.

You’re pressing too hard on his fragile lip.

There’s no malice in his eyes as you pull your hand back, only soft and tender. He must sense your remorse for hurting him, chasing after your fingers and grazing a gentle kiss upon them.

A splotch of red stains your skin.

“Corazón,” he croons, shifts himself closer to you. His hands grip the backs of your exposed thighs, his chin presses into your lower stomach. A few movie-strand hairs cover the molten brown eyes that stare up at you. “You’re exhausted. Vamos, basta de preocuparte (C'mon, stop worrying), I’m fine. I just wanna crawl into your tiny bed so I can wake up to your bedhead and more back pains.”

It’s a tempting offer, and one you’ve given into far too many times acceptable for the casual agreement you both share.

A deep breath. Your hand lands on his cheek, his eyes flutter shut.

There’s bags under them. Heavy, dark. Bearing the exhaustion he hides behind charming winks and dashing smiles. Your thumb grazes over one and you ache to give him the rest he deserves, the rest his body craves.

“But, what?” You persist, pleading for him to continue his story.

Javi sighs, gives in.

He always gives in, to you, eventually.

“I just- I don’t know, it’s crazy, but I kept thinking of you,” his eyes reopen, sorrow buried deep in his soul and a worry-line etched into his brow. “In that bar. Alone, in Vermont, when you...”

He doesn’t finish his sentence.

He doesn’t need to.

“So what did you do?” It’s best to keep him talking, drag his mind away from whatever dark thoughts those memories bring up.

“I followed them outside,” he admits with a tinge of shame. “Tried to be subtle about it. Lit a cigarette, took a few drags, scoped out the street. Neither of them were around,” you’ve long abandoned the first aid kit, transfixed by the tight grip he holds you in, his hands smoothing up and down the backs of your thighs in an attempt to soothe himself. “I thought I’d maybe read into it wrong. Maybe she was into him, and they’d got a cab back to her place. Or his.”

He’s rambling.

Stumbling through words he deems unimportant, rushing to push out the thoughts that clog up his brain pipes.

You listen closely, swallow up every morsel he offers.

“It was just as I turned to go back inside that I heard something,” his hands no longer dance over your skin. They sit stagnant, halfway up your thigh, fingers flexed and nails digging into flesh. He’s burying himself into any part of you he can, rooting himself in your solid figure. “Rustling, or something. Coming from the alley. And I just... I felt my stomach drop. Followed after it. Found them, him-”

He chokes.

On his words, on his breath, on his failure.

You run a hand through his curls, soothe the lines off his face.

Bend down, drag him up, press your lips to the arc of his nose.

“Didn’t think, I just dragged him off. Punched him, a few times. Felt his nose crack under my fist.” He’s still pushing through, his earlier unwillingness to talk now a streaming fountain you can’t switch off. “I must’ve tripped on some glass, lost my balance. Gave him the space to get a few hits in, and-”

“Did you arrest him?” You cut him off.

He nods.

“Did you help her?”

Another nod.

“Did you get her someplace safe?”

This time, a reply.

“An officer checked her in at the hospital, stayed till her friend arrived.”

“Then Javi,” you make a point of saying his name, remind him of who he is when he’s not on duty. Not parading around with a badge and a gun, and answering to Officer Peña. The shift in his stare tells you it helps. “You did enough.”

A weight slips off his shoulders and he slumps further into you, eyes squeezing shut.

“I didn’t,” frustration steals the show, coursing through his voice.

“What more could you have done?”

“I don’t know... I could’ve-” He groans, like something pains him, and purses his lips. “I should’ve helped her sooner. Followed them, the minute they left. Shouldn’t have let...” A whiff of whiskey reaches your nostrils. Javi pulls you in tighter, breathes in the mixture of sleep-sweat and lingering cologne on the shirt you wear- Pink, the top buttons undone, left behind by him. “Shouldn’t have let you go out alone.”

You whine out his name.

The air is miserable, dragging through your lungs and staining them.

The chair creeks at the loss of his weight, knees straightening him up to his full height. Instinctually, you lean back into the table, head tilting to meet his broken eyes.

He’s searching for comfort, in the only way he knows how.

Slap a bandage over a bullet-hole, place a kiss upon his gaping-heart.

“Not everything about that night was so bad,” you play into his game, splay a hand upon his shirt. Trace a finger over a stained blood spot. “If I hadn’t gone out, then maybe we wouldn’t be...”

The words catch in your throat.

Partially because you don’t know what you are anymore. Boundaries crossed, lines blurring. Hands that hold and eyes that linger. Too close to be nothing, too reckless to be something.

But mostly because he kisses you.

Desperate, hungry. Groaning into your willing mouth.

He’s a man on a mission, to consume your soul right out your willing body. Unravelling you where you stand, he takes pleasure in peeling his shirt off you.

Hot mouth to hot skin, the tip of his tongue meeting the peak of your breasts. Your hands pull at his hair and he grips at your waist.

The descent into madness is quick, bodies melting together in a dance that’s unique, improvised, and yet always in sync.

He tugs at your panties and you undo his belt. He hooks your thigh over his hip and you anchor yourself to his chest. He teases you with a pinch to your clit and you torture him as you cup his heavy balls.

When Javi fucks you, he fucks with purpose.

The table thuds and scrapes along the floor with each punctuated thrust he gives, driving his cock deeper and deeper into your welcoming cunt, the coarse hairs at its base gifting you the occasional thrill of friction on your aching clit.

He’s slurring out curses and pet-names, lavishing you with delightful proclaims of what a pretty girl you are when you 'shut up and take my cock'.

When he does manage a full sentence of logical wording, his forehead’s pressed to your shoulder, his cum coats your thighs and the sweat between your frantic bodies holds you both together.

“There’s not a universe where this doesn’t happen, corazón,” you feel him softening against your thigh, yet you still delight as he drags a finger coated in his own spend up your folds. “Want you too damn much to miss out on you.”

Curling up into your bed that feels too big these days, you grip at the pink shirt and wonder when that changed.

When did Javier Peña stop wanting you?

And I’m spiritual cleansing (but the truth) Is I’m good at pretending (oh and you)

By July, things change.

The stud in your nose is traded out for a silver ring.

The lonely nights in your apartment turn into stumbling back home from some nameless club in the early hours.

Boredom leads to hobbies.

At first, you try pottery.

Four plates broken and a crumbled mug later, you put on your dance shoes.

Slip. Almost break your arm. Wrestle with the doom placed on your budding dance career. Throw out the dancing shoes, bring home running shoes.

You hate it, running.

You sweat, you ache, you exhaust.

But when you’re gasping for a breath and your feet pound into concrete ground, you don’t think about it.

The heartache.

The headache.

The agent.

You drop a few pounds, tone up your muscles. Watch your body’s shape outgrow your wardrobe, investing in a new one while clinging onto the items you love too much to lose.

Like the dress that now rests just below your ass, instead of it’s usual place mid-thigh. Or the sweater that once hung loose, that now hugs new curves and creases. The jeans that were tight now sliding off your hips.

The pink shirt still lives on one of your hangers.

But you’re not thinking about it, or it’s previous owner.

Not right now.

Now, you’re balling your fists and counting your breaths. Music blasting through your headphones, sweat dancing on your forehead.

The sun is warm on your back, even as it makes way for night to begin. This is the best time to run, dusk, you’ve discovered.

No kids loitering on park grounds, no threat brought on by the dark, no slow-walking pedestrians crossing your path.

You run your self-made circuit with freedom, switching off all your senses and emptying your mind.

Today, however, it’s more challenging.

The thought of him creeps through, no matter the effort you put in to fight it. Your father’s the one to blame.

You have to come, kiddo.

The phone-call still echos through your thoughts.

Because it wouldn’t be the same without you there.

You’d wanted a better explanation than that.

Then, you tried some lame excuse of already having plans.

You had no plans.

Bring your friends then! The more the merrier!

You nearly groaned out loud at his enthusiasm, but held back. Your father’s light didn’t deserve to be dampened by your shadow.

C’mon, kiddo! I’ve not hosted the annual barbecue since you were still wearing your braces!

You bit your tongue. Fought against telling him that, back then, there were no pretty-eyed, heart-breaking agents for you to worry about.

The whole station’s gonna be there, you have to come!

He said it, like that would persuade you.

Keep asking about ya, the whole lot of them.

The more he spoke, the less you wanted to go.

Just last night Javi was asking how you’re doing!

You’d hung up.

Immediately.

Called back, 3 minutes later. Mumbled an apology and an excuse- I lost signal!- and ultimately agreed to going to the damn barbecue.

Now, you run from the phone call, from the impending doom it brings.

All this heartache and pain, it’s not good for the soul.

Of course, being dumped is a lot easier when the person isn’t your dad’s closest confidant.

It gets hard to breath. Each pound against concrete shakes the cassette player glued to your hip. There’s a sting of tears in your eyes.

Until you come to a screeching halt.

Double over.

Place your hands on your knees.

Dry heave.

You pay no mind to the figure sitting a few feet away on a bench.

Nor to the dog that’s chasing it’s ball back forth between it’s owner’s throws.

You let the sadness flood your soul, deflate you like some discarded party-balloon.

You’ll have to see him.

Spend time near him.

Watch him laugh, and smile, and share beers with your father.

It’s unfair, and you hate him for putting you through this.

For not quitting the force.

For being your dad’s friend.

For not wanting you the same you wanted him.

Want him.

You wipe your face with the back of your hand. Try to stand up straight, get lost in the knots you’d tied into your laces. Sloppy and uneven.

You’re usually more careful.

You catch, in your peripheral, the figure on the bench move. Take it as your sign to compose yourself, get over yourself.

You pick your pace back up.

Manage only a handful-or-two steps.

Your feet fly out in front of you.

Land ass-first on the gravel below.

Beneath the sounds of Olivia Newton-John demanding you get physical, you hear a muffled sorry! yelled out. Spot as the dog rushes to grab it’s ball, halfway down the path thanks to your kick.

You groan and prepare to get back on your feet.

You’re met with a hand in your face, palm open and waiting for you to accept the open offer. You take it, no hesitation.

Big mistake.

The hand tugs you.

You glance up.

And meet the eyes of Javier Peña.

“Easy, tiger,” he coughs up a laugh, like you don’t wind him as you slam into him, full-body force, nerves on fire and all systems shutting down. “You trying to break my ribs?”

It’s no less than you deserves, you think.

And instantly regret it, heart turning blue at the thought of him hurt at your hand.

You take a few steps back, create a safe distance where you can’t smell the remnants of his last cigarette or count the eyelashes that line his eyes.

He asks you how you’ve been, and tries his best to smile.

It comes off as awkward. A crooked line across his lips.

You try to remember the last time he smiled at you and meant it.

You come up empty handed.

Maybe it was back in April. A hospital hallway, one hand clasping yours, the other peeling through the leafs of some medical pamphlet.

Or, was it after, on the drive home, back to his apartment, hand still holding yours while the other spun the wheel?

There’s a vague memory that toils in the depth of your mind.

Sharing an elevator, your heels in his hand, his lips on your forehead.

Wedding attire, a post-party glow.

It’s toyed with you since you woke up in that hotel room, driven half-mad by an image you can’t quite form of him tucking you into bed.

Had he smiled, then?

Had he even been there?

Or was he merely a product of martinis and negronnis-

His fingers grasp your chin, no warning, and tilt your face.

His eyes don’t greet your own. Instead, they’re focused on the centre of your face, inspecting you like a piece of evidence.

“Hmm,” he’s so close, you smell the mint of freshly bitten gum on his breath. Dart your eyes down, catch the glint of his badge poking out his pocket.

He’s still on duty, a tailored uniform contrasting the hair roused by stress. Maybe at his desk, in the office next to your father’s, hands running through his tresses to express frustrations, tensions.

Were they his own hands, or someone with longer, brightly painted nails? Your stomach turns at the thought, your loins warm at the memory of writhing in his desk chair, legs thrown over his shoulders whilst his own dug into the ground below, eager to please mouth and a happy to taste tongue working you to a orgasm muffled by your own hand.

He’d slapped your ass, kissed your cheek and sent you out his office door, wiping your own wetness off your cheek just in time to greet your father.

“You suit the ring,” his voice and a gentle breeze bring you back to the present. To the park. To the heavy feeling that hangs between you both. “I prefer it to that stud.”

“I- What?” Confussion.

You furrow your brow, wipe your sweaty palms over your thighs.

He just smiles, still crookedly, and brings his hand up to your nose.

Adjusts your piercing, swipes his thumb over your cheek.

It’s hard to breath, but you do it anyway.

Thank him, in a struggle to find your voice, with a whisper.

His eyes bore into your own, chase them as you look off to the side, watch the dog still chasing it’s ball and failing to catch it.

You wonder if it’s a cruel metaphor sent by the universe, a symbol of you and Javi.

And then you wonder if you’re the dog or the ball.

Or both.

“You never answered me,” his voice, honey, sweet on your ears. It melts away your other senses, turns you blind to anything other than him. “I want to hear how you’ve be-”

“Peña, if you don’t report your skinny ass to my office in 5 minutes and share a celebratory drink with me, I’m putting you on cleaning duties at our next poker night.”

A static-filled voice blares out his walkie-talkie.

Your father’s voice.

It’s enough to set things right, force your body to retreat from his.

He’s not your Javi anymore, desperate to hear about your day and kiss any aches away.

He’s Peña, your dad’s best friend, meant for nothing more than to be a passing figure in your life.

His eyes are heavy with emotion as he fishes out the device.

Maybe it’s sadness you see.

There’s definitely remorse.

Guilt, too.

“We... Your dad caught the guy that’s been breaking into college girls’ apartments.” He tells you, shares information that should help you sleep better at night. You’ve not done that since the last time he lay next to you. You watch him press down on the call button, hold the speaker up to his mouth. “Do that and I’ll shit in your shower, pendejo (asshole).”

It wouldn’t be the first time he’d commit an indecency within your parent’s bathroom.

But none of that matter, anymore.

You’re already walking away.

Wringing your hands and hoping the tension in your limbs falls out.

He calls out your name, loudly.

Attracts the nosy eyes of people around.

People who know fine well who your father is, who Javier is.

You turn in time to see him half-jog, half-pace his way over to you.

He reaches out for your hand.

And quickly gives up on the thought of holding it.

“I’ll, um,” his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, grinds his teeth in an attempt to say something. “I’ll see you at the barbecue, right?”

He knows the answer.

You still give him it, “yes.”

Smile, uncomfortably brightly, before you turn and walk away once more.

You feel his eyes on you.

And pray he takes no notice of the sob that shakes your shoulders.

Broke me big time It’s funny and I’m laughing baby You think I’m alright

You’re laughing but it’s mostly fake.

A courtesy, a polite gesture. A signal that you’re still listening, despite tuning out her voice five minutes ago.

She’s a nice lady, someone who works alongside your father. Specialised in forensics, she balances the darkness of her job with the brightness of her wardrobe.

Today, she’s paired a lemon-yellow skirt with a vibrantly orange camisole. She looks like a walking cheese cube.

You’ve known her since you were a kid, even if you can’t remember. She claims you used to stand on her desk, make a big spectacle out of nearly matching your dad’s height.

You’d got to talking to her after she helped you wipe ketchup off your chin.

That was half an hour ago, and the discomfort of wanting to be anywhere but here is finally settling in.

It’s not her fault. You know.

She’s not the one who roped you into going to this barbecue.

Your dad is.

And right now he’s stood on the other side of his backyard, half-drunken beer bottle in one hand and Javier Peña’s shoulder clapped under the other.

Even from here, you can hear him bragging.

So then Peña’s on his ass.

Chases this guy, whilst he’s driving down the street!

Catches him at an intersection, physically rips him out the car.

All while the man in question shrugs, sheepish. Dismisses your father’s praising.

He’s exaggerating.

The guy was barely going 5 miles an hour!

He stepped out the vehicle at his own will.

Sweat lines his forehead, shirt-sleeves hug his biceps, joy wrinkles his eyes.

He’s happy, at ease. Enjoying himself, in a way he was always meant to.

Something about him fits so perfectly in this picture: laughing with your father, complimenting your mother, playing fetch with your dog.

If you step inside the frame, it cracks.

Shatters.

And maybe he knows that.

Knew it all along.

Broke things off before you could try find a frame large enough to fit you all in.

And, though it hurts, you see why things had to end between you and feel relieved it happened before it was too late.

The feeling lasts all but four seconds.

“Kiddo!”

Your father’s voice is obnoxiously loud. Several of the party-goers turn their heads, follow his line of sight. Spot you, frozen in place, glass full of watered down lemonade and a belly full of dread.

It takes a moment, but you wave.

“Come over ‘ere!”

Not the response you were hoping for.

Still, you do as he asks. Smile at your mother, shuffle your feet, make your way across the yard. Do everything in your power to not look at Javi.

Even if the weight of his stare threatens to crumble you.

“You having a good time?” Your dad’s got this smile, big and dopy and oh so caring, that you can’t bring yourself to ruin with the truth.

“I’m having a great time,” you barely manage out before he’s squeezing you into his side.

The condensation on his bottle of beer seeps through the shoulder of your top, his arm secured safely around you.

He must be tipsy already, a buzz in his veins making him more affectionate than normal.

“I can’t believe it,” he laments, speaking to no one in particular.

In your peripheral, you fail to ignore tight jeans and a loose-fitting shirt.

It’s hardly buttoned, the top three undone and leaving a golden plain on display.

Perhaps you’re going crazy but he seems thinner, skin drawn a little tighter against his ribcage.

It’s not a sight you want to see.

It fills you with dread.

Pulling you out of your own head, you father continues to drone on.

“My little girl’s spreading her wings soon, going on her first adult holiday to-”

“London.”

Javi’s voice, interrupting your father, finishing his sentence.

All eyes snap to him.

Your own, wide and panicked. Scared. Trying so hard to dismiss how intensely he’s staring back you.

Your mother’s, amused and curious. Flicking back and forth between his face and her husband’s.

Your father, confused and perplexed, “I- Yeah...” He speaks slow and the arm on your shoulder slips down. “How’d you know?”

“I’ve been, you know?” Two hands dance in front of you, somewhere in the dark, intwining and unwinding. It’s a nervous habit, of Javi’s. You welcome the contact of soothing touches. “To London.”

That peaks your interest.

Enough to shift positions. Rip your hand out his own, roll onto your side and rest a hand under your propped up head. Your other, inevitably, finds its way upon his warm chest, rests over his no-longer-racing heartbeat.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’ve been a few times, actually. I’ve got some friends out there.”

With Javi, friends could mean anything.

A fellow agent, a government official, a moonlight lover.

For all you know, this friend could be the Queen of England.

So it’s best you don’t inquire on it.

“Where do you recommend I visit then, Mr. Bond?”

“Mr... Bond?”

The room is dark, but you still notice the furrow in his brow.

You can practically hear it, in his voice.

“You know, like James Bond.” That’s the thing about jokes, explaining them makes you realise how dumb they are. “‘Cause you were an agent and you like London, and he’s an agent in Lon-”

He cuts you off in the way you like best: his mouth against yours.

The kiss is brief, and leads no place further than the simple act of wanting to silence you.

And, though it goes unaddressed, because it’s been too long since he’d last done it.

Even if he’d done so less than an hour ago, naked bodies intertwined on ruffled bedsheets.

“That was the worst pun I’ve ever heard, corazón,” somehow, the words don’t bruise your ego.

Instead, they make you giggle and burrow your heated face into the crook of his neck.

His lips press against your hairline before speaking again.

“I’d need to write you a list of places to go, too many for me to pick one.”

“Maybe I need a tour guide,” a hand of his greets your back, strokes soothing motions back and forth. It’s lulling you to sleep, at last. “Y’know, show me all the places a real Londoner goes.”

“I could,” he pauses. Clears his throat. Pulls you a little tighter against him, till your limbs are tangled and it’s hard to tell where he stops and you start. “I could check my calendar. See how many holiday days I’ve got left. Could come with you, to London, if you want me there.”

It’s too late though.

You’re already snoring against his skin.

“How does he know?” Your mother shatters the silence, tone incredulous. “I mean, seriously, are you blind!?”

For a minute, it feels like she knows.

She knows why Javi knows.

You should be panicking.

Both of you should.

Should look away from one another, should wipe the guilt off your faces, should already be working on some excuse for when your mother exposes what once was between you.

But you aren’t. Neither of you are.

You’re just staring at each other, as if you’re working to commit each other’s face to memory.

“He knows because you won’t shut up about it!”

Your dad gives an unceremonious oh.

Your mom rolls her eyes.

Javi takes a sip of beer and looks off to the side, eyes breaking contact from your own at last.

“Ok but,” your father’s back to talking before you can fully work up the courage to leave. At least that’s the excuse you try give yourself, anything to distract from Javi. “I bet I’ve not told you what she’s decided to do on her travels!”

“You have,” your mother’s tone is pointed.

Javi laughs, sputters up a little beer back into the bottle. Tilts his head back, accepts his own backwash.

There’s a worn-out cigarette box squeezed tight inside the front pocket of his jeans.

You try ignore the fact he’d promised you he was working on quitting.

“Shh,” your father waves a hand in your mother’s face, dismisses her teasing with a playful wink.

Pulls her close, kisses her shoulder.

Gives both you and Javi a display of what a relationship is.

Open, celebrated, acknowledged.

Not secretive, dirty, scandalous.

Javi cuts the tension with a chuckle and a gentle shove to your father’s arm.

As his hand retreats back to his side, his knuckles brush your skin.

“She’s gonna get herself a christmas-tree decoration every holiday,” your father reveals. You’re frozen at the fact he even remembers you mentioning it. “What was it you said again, kiddo? So in the future, when you’re decorating the tree with your kids, you’ll think of the places you’ve been and tell them all about it?”

Your heart drops.

Javi’s seems to do the same.

For a moment, you worry he’s stopped breathing.

Till his chest rises and falls, no thanks to your father’s stupid rambling about you, and the future, and kids.

“Uh, yeah,” the ground can’t swallow you sooner. You’re already planning your exit, from this conversation and, hopefully, this party as a whole. Your dad’ll understand. You just need to tell him something came up. Or came out. Tell him you’ve got food poison. Blame it on some dodgy take-out the night before. “Something like that.”

But I’m actually bloody Motherfucking batshit crazy

There are moments in one’s life where they must question their own sanity.

You’ve lived plenty of such moments.

But none quite like right now, half-crouched in the middle of a grocery store aisle, peeping into the next one through a gap between two cereal boxes on the shelf.

And all because you heard his voice.

“This is what you’re craving?” Through the crack, you see him wave about something in his hand. It’s hard to see what exactly he’s holding, though.

He’s facing a woman.

She’s pretty.

With dirty blonde hair, piercing blue eyes that not even the shelves and produce between you both can block the shine of.

And a well-rounded belly.

“No, Javi, this,” she doesn’t say his name the same way you do- did. There’s a jovial tone, but there’s no awe, no seduction. Maybe that’s just what your bias hears. “Is what the baby is craving.”

You’ve never seen her before.

Not on the mantel of photos that line Javier’s television. Not at any of the station thrown parties. Not in his wallet, tucked behind the picture of his mom.

She’s a total stranger, to you.

But that doesn’t mean she’s a stranger to him.

A very pregnant, non-stranger.

“We gotta get this kid some better taste.”

His hand rests on her bump.

She welcomes it, placing her own against it to hold him in place.

The image of the American dream, a beautiful woman and a handsome man. The promise of a child, soon, half her and half him.

The blood drains from your face. There’s a lump in your throat and a sting in your eyes.

You won’t let it fester.

Take deep breaths, pretend there’s no shake in your exhales.

It’s not enough to stop the vicious thoughts that sink their jagged ends into the soft tissues of your brain.

Was she the reason things between you and him ended?

Had he got her pregnant, decided to stand by her, and found love along the way?

Was he with her, all along, while he was with...

Surely, he couldn’t have.

But, then, why couldn’t he have?

You were never exclusive.

You were never anything.

“Did-” Somewhere, between the aisles, Javi speaks in amazement. The smile is practically dripping off his words. “Did it just kick?”

Your heart’s palpitating.

Your hands are sweating so badly, they threaten to drop the box of Cap'n Crunch in their grasp.

Jealousy turns to misplaced anger, irrational in every form but impossible to conform.

Because, how could he do this to you?

Make a mockery of you, turn you into the other woman?

Love you so deeply and leave you so easily?

Settle down with this woman and her baby, yet run from you at the first scare of a-

“He’s a real kicker, ain’t he?”

At first, you think it’s spoken to you.

But, no, it’s too distant. Too far.

A third person enters your view through the window in the shelf.

He’s handsome, in the typical sense.

Blonde haired, a nice smile.

There’s a little girl in his arms, resting on his hip, half asleep and clinging to a worn-out giraffe doll.

“He?” It’s Javi who echoes.

“Don’t get him started,” the woman seems to beg, rolling her eyes.

The man nods, pride on his face, “I’m telling ya, Peña, it’s gonna be a boy. It needs to be a boy, ‘else I’m gonna be overrun by little girls.”

The woman must give him a pointed look, or a gentle nudge, for not two seconds later he’s following his words up with a tickle to the sleepy girl’s side and “little girls who I love very much.” Pause. He leans closer to Javier, hand covering one side of his mouth as if to block the woman and the child from hearing him. “I still want a son, though.”

“Olivia,” the pregnant woman strokes a hand over the little girl's head, coxing her to keep her eyes open. It’s hard to tell if there’s a drool mark on the man’s shoulder. “Why don’t you show uncle Javi your favourite toy?”

The bile in your throat burns more than ever before.

The misplaced anger bleeds into sadness, shame, embarrassment.

Here you are, going stir-crazy over a man who never wanted much of you in the first place, raising your heart-rate at the thought of him moving on from something that never even existed.

And there he is, fine as can be- in every sense of the word-, sharing laughs and exchanging smiles with old friends in the grocery store.

Friends his own age.

Worlds apart, yet nothing but a shelf between you.

Through the gap, you watch him lean down to the little girl’s eye-level. A twinkle in his eye, he happily tugs at the stuffed giraffe’s tail.

“Glad you liked it, Olive,” curse him, and his soft voice, and his gentle touch and his everything, for still forcing you to swoon over him, knees weak and ovaries treacherously screaming. “I had to go all the way to Africa to find him.”

The little girl perks right up at that.

Eyes widened, head off her father’s shoulder.

“Really?!” She’s amazed, and how could she not be? Javier Peña is beaming at her, ear to ear.

“Mhmm,” he nods, feeds into his own lie, ignoring the disapproving looks from the other man. “If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll go back next year and get you a zebra.”

“Quit lying to my kid, Peña.”

Javi, undeterred from keeping the little girl’s smile, rolls his eyes and pokes his tongue out at her father, huffing under his breath “Your dad’s a right grump, Olive.”

You begin to wonder how long Javi’s known this couple, how he knows this couple.

“Just wait till you’ve got your own kid and I’m feeding it lies.” The man punctuates his empty threat with a dull punch to Javi’s forearm. Javi barely flinches, unfazed. “Speaking of, when are you making me uncle Steve?”

In sync and apart, you and him both physically freeze.

Your breathing stops.

Javier stands up straight. Rolls his shoulders, scratches at the back of his neck, clears his throat and, “not any time soon.”

“Really? What about that girl you’ve been seeing, the-”

“That- We- It didn’t work out, we wanted,” you begin to see cracks in his facade. Fake laugh, solemn eyes. “Different things... I want, wanted to settle down but, yeah, no it was for her best that we-”

“Sorry, can I just,” your heart jumps in your chest, flying back so quickly from your peep-hole that you nearly knock over the person behind you. “Grab one of those?”

You nod, gain composure, watch the stranger pick up a box of cereal off the shelf.

They walk away and you’re left alone, again.

Your eyes flicker up to the shelf and-

He’s no longer standing on the other side.

You turn on your heel, ignoring your half-filled cart and book it out of the store before you fall apart.

Try as you might, you can’t shake off the weight of his stare as you pass by the check-out.

I kept it in, but it wrecked my organs So pour the gin and call Graham Norton

You wake up early.

You tell yourself it’s because you’re seizing the day.

Making the most out of your time upon foreign land.

The early bird gets the worm, and all that proverbial bullshit.

The truth lies in that you can not sleep.

Jetlag. Your body clock is at odds with the timezone.

Which lands you here: strolling upon the cobbled streets of Notting Hill.

A quarter past six.

Its barely light out, the sun still fighting to rise over the horizon and the streetlights still shadow your every step.

Colourful houses, cosy shops, a melodic thud each time your feet meet the ground.

It’s picturesque, straight out of a romantic comedy.

Yet, somehow, you’ve never felt more gloom.

In the silent bustle of a city awakening to a new day, you’re startled.

Trip over a cobble, nearly meet the floor, and just about save yourself from rolling your ankle.

Your ringtone is the culprit.

Loud, imposing. It scares a flock of birds off a wire and gains you a stare from a man stepping out his home.

Scrambling to get the clunky cellphone out your bag, you spare the screen a fleeting glance.

You question if it’s one of your friends, awakened back in your shared hotel room to find you’re not there, and press the green button.

“Corazón.”

It’s funny how one word can drain the blood from your face.

You swallow the lump in your throat, made of equal parts anger and sadness.

Anger that this is the first time you’ve heard Javier Peña’s voice in nearly two months.

Sadness that it sounds so broken down the line.

“I- Shit, I can’t tell if I’ve even dialled the right number...” He’s muttering in your ear, confused and at odds with himself, mouth a fountain his thoughts pour out of. “... Probably changed it or- Can she even receive calls all the way in-”

“I’m here,” it’s only a whisper.

It’s enough to shut him up.

Silence rings down the line, a static buzz that reminds you of the distance between you.

“You’re in London,” he states.

“I am,” you affirm.

He hums, sips something.

Ice clinks against glass, and you feel a little sick.

“How have-” His voice sounds strange. Muffled. Different. Maybe it’s the poor connection. “Was your flight okay?”

“Yeah,” you spare him the details.

The truth.

The boredom, the turbulence. The fact you’re dreading the flight home.

“I’m glad,” he sighs the words out, worry going with them. “Know you’re not the biggest fan of planes, kept thinking of you alone and afraid on it.”

“I wasn’t alone,” it’s defensive, and ironic.

You sure felt alone.

“That’s right, corazón, you weren’t,” something slips, rolls, smashes. Glass shatters and is met with cursing anger, an oh, shit! followed up by hollow laughter. “You’re never alone.”

“Are you...” The street’s a little brighter, a few cars have begun to back out of driveways and you’re still there, frozen in the middle of the street, phone pressed to your ear. “Drunk?”

“No, I’m javi.” If his laughter is anything to go by, he thinks himself the comic of the century. “Had a few drinks with your dad, sweetheart, that’s all.”

For a moment, it feels like you shouldn’t be here, in London.

You should be home, in Laredo, dragging a drunken Javi to bed.

Stripping him of his clothes, kissing his rosied cheeks, urging him to go to sleep. Leaving him a pair of painkillers and a glass of water for his breakfast before curling yourself into his soft arms.

You blink, and feel the familiar weight of a tear on your lashes.

“Why’d you call me, Javi?” It’s a desperate plea.

For answers, for clarity, for closure

“I wanted to hear your voice,” that’s too vague of an answer, too unfair of an answer. Your heart swells nonetheless. “Wanted to go to London, with you. I should be there.”

“It’s your fault,” that’s as cruel as you can bring yourself to be towards him.

Even then, it kills you to do so.

“’S half my fault. Joder (fuck),” you can picture him, leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. You wonder how much he’s drank, and if he spoke to any women. Maybe he took one home, fucked her nice and good before dialling your number. “Wanted to give you my answer, too.”

Someone bumps your shoulder on the street, walking past you.

You pay them no mind, vision blurred to the world around you.

“What answer?”

“Where you should visit, Mrs. Bond,” he says it, like it doesn’t send you into cardiac arrest.

You miss the nights like that one, tangled in your bed, smelling him on your sheets and feeling him against your skin.

He’d woken up first the next day, coaxed you out of bed with the promise of homemade pancakes and his head between your legs.

“There’s this little bar in Inslington, called the Distillery Club. The owner, he makes his own gin. You like gin, don’t you, corazón?” You nod, and it’s almost like he feels it. “It doesn’t look like much from the outside. Or the inside, either. But it’s some of the best gin I’ve ever had, in the greatest company.”

You try to picture him, sat amongst friends you’ve never met. Friends who don’t know your dad.

You try to picture yourself, next to him, scooting your bar stool closer to his.

The image doesn’t quite form.

“Want you to go there, get yourself a drink. Tell him Javier Peña sent you, and that you’ve not to pay.”

It’s like he’s given you a piece of his soul. A piece of his history, someplace he’s sought out refuge in his lowest moments.

Refuge he’s willing to share with you.

That tear finally gives way, dropping off your lash and rolling down your cheek.

You wipe it off with the sleeve of your sweater, before anyone can see.

“Promise me you’ll go, corazón.”

Your reply is instant, “I promise.”

“Ok, I’ll let you go,” it’s solemn, regretful, devoid of truth. You almost beg him not to, but that didn’t work last time. “Enjoy yourself, okay? Come home, safe.”

“Javi, I-” the line cuts off, disconnecting before you even finish. “Miss you.”

I’m gonna throw you down the river Your mum can watch it over dinner

“How you feeling, kiddo?”

You startle awake at your father’s voice, eyes heavy with exhaustion.

Before you can give him an answer, you erupt into a fit of coughs.

“Not good,” he grimaces and slowly steps into your room. “Got it.”

Stepping off the plane, you’d managed only one night back in your own bed before the fever had taken over.

All it took was hearing your nasally voice over the phone for your mother to demand you come stay with them.

Just till you’re back on your feet, she’d said, like she ever needed an excuse to have you over.

She’s not quite adjusted to being an empty-nester.

Neither of them have, really.

“Actually,” your tone is matter-of-factly. “I almost smelt something earlier.”

“That’s great, kid!” And he means it, you know he does. Even if his shoulders slump at any sign of you feeling better and returning to your apartment. “Now we just gotta figure out if it’s your sinuses unclogging or your stench just growing more rancid.”

Try as you might to aim the pillow right at his head, he still manages to catch it inches from his face.

“Hey, I’m just saying! You’ve got the flu, you ain’t dying! Could be a little courteous to those who’ve gotta be around you and take a shower.”

“You’re literally in my room!”

“Which is literally in my house!”

Downstairs, your mother yells something unintelligible.

Likely, she’s telling you both to shut up and to quit behaving like children.

Making eye contact, you both can’t help the roll of laughter that comes out.

He steps a little closer, and that’s when you spot it.

Tupperware, clasped in his hand.

The contents are hard to decipher.

Luckily, your father spots you eyeing it.

“Your mom said ya wouldn’t be up for eating much but, if you’re hungry,” he pauses, at the foot of your bed. Tugs a little on the homemade-blanket you’ve had since you were in grade school. You wonder if he remembers making it with you. “One of the guys down at the station made you some stew.”

Your stomach growls, hungry and unfed.

The prospect of a hot, boiling bowl of brothy stew suddenly peaks your interest.

In fact, you can’t think of anything better.

“It’s a family recipe, he said it would cure ya right up.”

He’s popping the lid open, presenting the delicacy before your eyes. 

Immediately, you spot chicken.

Some corn cob, a couple lumps of potato, flakes of chilli.

You wish you could smell it, ingest it through your nasal canal and get a taste of it before you even put it in your mouth.

Your father continues, practically talking to himself.

“What’d he say it was called again, ga-sue-lay day ah-vay?”

“Cazuela de ave.”

A change into warmer, drier clothes.

Your hair still sits wet upon your head, but it no longer drips puddles onto his floor.

Thirty minutes it took him to drive from where he’d spotted you, walking soaked upon the sidewalk.

It would’ve only taken him seventeen minutes if he’d dropped you at your apartment.

And that fact is partly what warms your insides.

You watch him, tie discarded and the top buttons of his shirt undone, strutting around his kitchen.

Objectively, you think, he’s gorgeous.

Yet the word somehow doesn’t seem like it’s enough to summarise him, when he’s making his way round to you, two ceramic bowls in his hands and a look of pride in his eyes.

He put his own bowl down first. Sloppy, uncaring, spilling a little of it’s contents over it’s edge.

And then yours. More careful, slowly, both hands guiding it down.

The scent alone is enough to have you salivating. 

Warmth and care, all encased in a bowl of brothy goodness.

“It smells delicious,” you inhale deeply, for dramatic effect.

And to get more of that meaty, comfort-food goodness.

Javi sits on the opposite side of the dining table, and you try hard to stop your mind from wandering off to visions of you both sat like this, out in public, in a restaurant.

A real date.

Only, this isn’t even a fake date.

You guys don’t do that.

“It’s- It was my mom’s recipe.”

Frozen in place, you wonder if the shock spills over your face.

He’s never mentioned his mother.

Or much about his family, really.

There’s the occasional comment about projects he takes on at his dad’s ranch, and tid-bits of information you hear across a dinner table that's set by your mother and seated by your father.

But you’re no fool blind enough to not realise the obvious.

A worn-out polaroid in his wallet, his mother smiles brightly in permanent ink each time he opens it. It contrasts her impermanence in the real world, dead and gone long before you became so much as a ripple in the lake of Javier’s existence.

Across the table, he’s relaxed. At ease.

Open.

His eyes, his mind, his heart.

And so you try venturing inwards, test his waters with a dip of your toe.

“Was she a good cook?”

Lukewarm, they appear, when he favours you with a tiny smile, his eyes staring somewhere off in the distance.

“No,” and he laughs at his own admission.

Not just a scoffed out chuckle, or a gesture meant to feign joy.

A full, hearty laugh, that shakes his shoulders and splits his cheeks.

It’s disturbingly beautiful.

You wonder if there’s a life where it could be like this, always.

Javier laughing at his own jokes, you smiling at his visceral joy, plates of homemade food filling the space between you.

“No, she, uh,” he restarts, relaxing a little bit. He wipes under one of his eyes with the back of his palm, a rogue tear breaching his waterline. “She was awful. She burnt every slice of toast she made, and even served an unbaked cake at one of my birthday parties. This dish is actually one of the few she knew how to nail.”

You can picture it, a young Javi, party hat on his head and a cheesy grin topped by rosy cheeks, eating away at gooey batter mix sprinkled in icing. 

It’s hard to imagine him complaining, or getting angry at her.

In spite of his reputation, and the career he’s undertaken, Javier Peña is a gentle soul, who nurtures and protects anyone he can.

A modern-day hero, a knight who’s exchanged his shinny armour for form fitting jeans and unbuttened shirts.

“Tell me more about her,” the words are out before you can reel them back in.

Because you like this feeling, and you like this Javi, reminiscing on his late-mother.

“She not only was awful at cooking, but she had the worst coordination too.” It’s like he’s been waiting to tell you this, with how easy he slips into doing so. “She was forever falling and tripping over herself. And her driving, god! Pops used to dig out his rosary each time she’d be out on the field, driving the tractor.”

There’s something intimate about him recalling details so many would see as flaws, whilst he sports the most earnest, heart-wrenching smile.

Like nothing about her was wrong, all of her perfect and angelic.

“She was brave, too. I’d like to think I’m just like her in that respect. She didn’t let anything stop her from doing things she set her heart on, and she never let her inabilities hinder her,” he’s getting a little emotional now, you can hear it in his voice, see it in the lump he swallows back. You stretch a hand across the table and watch as he leans on you for support, fingers interlocking with your own. “There was this one time when I was a kid, I was swimming in a river and got stuck in a current. She dived right in to save me... She didn’t even know how to swim!”

You don’t know what to say.

You opt for saying nothing, silence speaking more than a thousand words.

Give his hand a reassuring squeeze, feel him squeeze back harder.

Your stomach rumbles, but it doesn’t ruin the moment in the way you feared it would.

“Listen to me being a sap and starving my poor lady to death,” still, he tugs your hand closer and plants a kiss on your knuckles. You’re still trying to process the possessive adjective he’d used to address you. My. His. “Eat up.”

Both of you settle back in your seats.

You pick up your spoon, scoop up a piece of chicken out the steaming bowl and-

“Asi no, corazón (not like that, sweetheart),” he spews out, panicking to pry the cutlery out your hand. He ignores the questioning looks you give him. “You drink the soup first, eat the filling after. Like this.”

Leaning over the table, he scoops your bowl up in his careful hands and guides it up to your lips.

When your lips part and rest against the bowl’s edge, he tilts it and you feel it’s warmth invade your mouth.

And then your chest, branching out over your heart, your lungs, your stomach.

Horned-up bias you so often show towards Javier aside, it’s one of the best things you’ve ever tasted.

Like a hug on a gloomy, wet day, all wrapped up inside a ceramic bowl.

You hum, hands taking over his own to allow him back into his own seat, focusing his attention on drinking his own soup.

“Javi, this is...” You trail off, eyeing the small ring of liquid pooling at the bottom of the bowl. One more mouthful and you’ll get your taste of the stew’s fillings. “Amazing. Your mum would be proud.”

Instead of modesty, instead of 'thank yous', instead of bashfulness, Javier smiles, takes another sip from his bowl.

“She would have liked you.”

You stare across at him and find no jest in his eyes.

They’re as open as before.

“Really?”

“Mhmm. She always liked pretty girls smart enough to put me in my place.”

“Kiddo?”

You’re ripped out your own head by your father’s voice and his hand, waved repeatedly in front of your face.

“Hmm?” 

“You okay there? I was talkin’ to you but you seemed lost in thought.” There’s a little excitement in you father’s voice as he presses his cold hand to your sweated forehead, the prospect of you still being ill, still needing taking care of, filling him with the relief of keeping you in your parents' home a little longer.

“I’m- Yeah, just tired, s’all.”

“Ok, let me know when you’ve finished your food,” he presses a kiss atop the crown of your head, and you hold back the pointless comment of not risking getting himself or your mother sick. “Need to get the tupperware clean ‘fore I give it back to Javi.”

Your stomach twists and longs for the meal before you, while your heart shatters into pieces you doubt will ever be repaired.

#javier peña smut #pedro pascal smut #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña oneshot

[pensat-i-fet]

Cry wolf (Rúben Dias x Reader)

**Hello! Finally, a new Rúben imagine. This is a combination of two requests I got. It's a bit angsty and dramatic. What a comeback! I hope you enjoy it ❤️**

Word count: 1944

Masterlist

Wattpad

"Ahhh!", you yelled the moment you got inside the bathroom and saw what was on the floor. "Oh my God! What am I supposed to do?"

Saying you panicked whenever you saw any sort of insect or bug would be an understatement. You could barely stay out in the park for half an hour, worried about all the creatures that could be around you. So seeing a cockroach first thing in the morning wasn't ideal. And your boyfriend was gone. So what were you going to do?

"Ok. It's fine. I'm a grown woman and can do this".

You kept convincing yourself that you could kill it and so you put your shoes on, walked inside the bathroom again and spotted the disgusting thing that was still there. Placing your fingers inside your ears, you stepped on it, took your shoe off without lifting it from the floor and left the bathroom. There was one in the guest room you could use.

After a shower, you put some clothes on and called Rúben. He was at the gym but it was still early, so you knew his official training session hadn't started.

"Hi, everything ok?"

It was very unlike you to call him this early. You usually just send a text before going to work. "It is now. But there is a corpse in the bathroom".

"A what?", he laughed.

"There was a cockroach and I killed it".

"Are you planning on doing a funeral? Throw it in the bin".

"I can't. It's disgusting. Can you do it when you're back?"

"Are you for real?", you could hear his tone change.

"Yeah".

"You aren't a child anymore. You can clean that mess yourself".

"But it's disgusting!", you complained.

"And you think it's nice for me to do it? Honestly, grow up".

Well, growing up takes time, so what you did was hang up the phone. Why was he such an asshole?

He had been acting like that a lot lately. And sure, some of your requests were a bit childish but he was one to talk. You had to tiptoe around his feelings for a whole day after he scored an own goal. He could be childish himself.

But you guessed he was kind of right about this specific situation, so you went back to the bathroom but…you couldn't do it. You knew you were going to have nightmares about it for days. So you left the shoe and the dead bug there and went to work. You would deal with Rúben later.

**

By the time you were done with work, you expected a text from Rúben. He always sent one when he got home to let you know about any plans or just ask about what you wanted for dinner. But there was no text. It was odd but you decided not to worry. He might have stayed for an extra training session. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Hello?", you called when you got back to the apartment. "Rúben?"

You spotted him in the living room, glaring at you.

"Good day?"

"I guess. Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because I came back home and found you didn't clean the mess in the bathroom".

"Rúben", you said, back to that whining tone you hated but couldn't help but use sometimes. "I tried but it was so disgusting. I swear I couldn't do it".

"So I had to do it".

"Thank you…", you tried to say but he interrupted you.

"You keep doing this. Calling me while I'm working for stupid things you should be able to do".

"They aren't always stupid…".

"They are. And you know what happened to the boy who kept crying wolf?", you rolled your eyes. "One day you'll really need me and I won't believe it's an emergency".

You could feel the tears in your eyes. Even if he was partly right, there was no need to be so mean.

"If this is how you're going to be today, I'll go out to get some fresh air and be away from you. You're being really unfair".

"No need for you to go. Some of my teammates invited me to have dinner with them and I said yes".

"But it's Wednesday".

"I need the fresh air as well", he said, going back to the room.

Wednesdays were your day. You met on a Wednesday, kissed for the first time on a Wednesday, moved in together on a Wednesday,... Rúben's schedule meant he was away a lot, so you cherished whenever he had a day off on Wednesday so much. He often got you flowers or booked a table for dinner at a restaurant. And now he was leaving. Well, both of you could be pricks.

Picking up your bag again, you left without saying goodbye and got inside the car. You didn't even know where you were going. And you should have probably just walked but it was raining and the last thing you needed was to catch a cold.

Traffic wasn't too bad and you kept driving after the light turned green. And soon, everything went dark.

**

Rúben thought about staying home when he heard you leave. Maybe he should wait until you get back and apologize. You both had reasons to apologize but he knew he had been a dick to you. It was just that sometimes it got on his nerves how much you depended on him. For the stupidest things. You were independent otherwise. You had a good job, which meant you had your own money, and managed most of the important things around the house. But then you couldn't deal with killing a bug and cleaning the mess. It just didn't make sense sometimes and it frustrated him.

So Rúben met some of his teammates for dinner. And then, for drinks. Even if he didn't have any since the season had already started and, well, everyone remembered what happened the last time he drank. How could they forget?

"Your phone keeps buzzing", told him Nathan and Rúben looked to see it was you calling.

A part of him wanted to answer but he was still angry. And so he just moved the phone away and ignored it. Nathan gave him a weird look, he had seen it was you calling, but decided he wouldn't stick his nose in your business. Better to stay out of it.

Rúben still felt fidgety. He never ignored your calls. And what if it was something important?

"I'm going to the toilet. I'll be right back".

And while he was washing his hands, he saw the door open and turned to find Nathan staring at him with wide eyes.

"What?"

"Your phone kept ringing and then you got a text from your girlfriend asking you to answer in not very nice words. So I answered the next time she called…but it wasn't her who was calling you".

"What do you mean? Who has her phone?"

"Her friend Patricia, who is a nurse. They are both in the hospital".

"What? Why?"

Rúben felt dizzy all of a sudden.

"She had an accident".

**

"Patricia! Where is she?"

Rúben was running around the hospital's corridor, not caring about who he bumped into. And when he finally saw Patricia, he cared even less.

"Oh, now you care?"

"You can call me names later, please tell me what happened!"

"A drunk driver hit her car".

"Is she ok? Where is she?", now he was panicking even more. And feeling guilty. So guilty.

"The doctors were worried when she got here", started Patricia and she put a hand on Rúben's arm when she noticed he was about to lose control. "But she's fine. Well, as fine as one can be. She got really lucky. She was unconscious when she got here but there's no major damage".

"Thank God!", sighed Rúben. "Where is she? Can I see her?"

"Follow me".

Patricia could move around the area freely and she took Rúben with her to your room and then knocked on the door.

"Wait here. The doctors are still inside".

Rúben nodded and pressed his ear to the door. He could hear Patricia telling the doctors that your partner was there and wanted to see you and a couple of minutes later, the door opened.

"Come in".

Rúben took no time to do so and soon he was by the bed, right next to you and completely ignoring the doctors who were still there.

"Are you ok?"

"Yes", you nodded. But you looked so small and weak. There were a few bruises on your skin but Patricia was right. It could have been so much worse.

That was when Rúben decided to acknowledge the doctors.

"Sorry. I was really worried. Is she ok? When can she go back home?"

"Tomorrow morning. We want to monitor her tonight, just to be on the safe side".

He nodded and looked back at you, the way your eyes kept closing worried him.

"They gave her some medicine to sleep", said Patricia, as if she could read his mind. "She needs the rest".

"Of course. Can I stay here?"

"Yes. I'll get you a pillow and a blanket but that won't make the sofa any more comfortable".

"I don't care about that. And thank you".

The night was terrible for Rúben. He kept staring at you and wasn't able to sleep. That's why he was awake every time a nurse showed up to check how you were doing. And even if they all told him everything was fine, he still couldn't sleep.

When you finally woke up, he jumped from the sofa to go to your side.

"How are you? Are you in pain? Should I call a doctor?"

"I'm fine. I just need the toilet".

"I'll take you there".

"No you won't, Rúben", you chuckled.

"Then I'll call a nurse".

"No. I'm fine".

Despite his protests, you got up and went to the bathroom by yourself. Your whole body ached but it was bearable. And you were going to get more painkillers soon with your breakfast so it was ok.

"Let me help you", he said, taking your arm to help you walk back to the bed. And you let him even if you didn't need the help.

"Thanks".

"I'm so sorry", he blurted out. "You have no idea. You could have been hurt so badly and I wasn't answering the phone because of a ridiculous fight. I will never forgive myself for that. You needed me and I wasn't there".

"Rúben", you said, grabbing his hand. "We both made mistakes. You were right. I kept crying wolf and then when something bad happened, you didn't think it was an emergency. You were so right about …".

"No. No, that's no excuse".

"Don't feel bad, really. Plus, it wasn't even me calling. I was busy doing tests to make sure everything was ok".

"Still. It won't happen again. Call me anytime to kill a cockroach or to do anything you need . Seriously, I'll always be there".

"I know you will. But I have some growing up to do too. If I hadn't left like that because I was upset you told me off, this wouldn't have happened".

"Hey!", he was now the one grabbing your hands. "You drove when the light was green and a drunk driver hit you. You did nothing wrong. It was all his fault".

"But…".

"But nothing. Now let me pamper you until you're healthy again".

"I like being pampered", you smiled.

"Then get ready. Because even queens will be jealous of how I'll treat you".

And Rúben sealed his promise with a kiss.

#ruben dias #ruben dias fanfiction #ruben dias fanfic #ruben dias imagine #footballer one shot #ruben dias angst #ruben dias fluff #football one shot #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #ruben dias x reader #footballer fanfic #footballer fluff

[mooshs-crack-headcanons]

could I ask for hcs for how day to day life would change for erwin, hange, and levi's s/o after dealing with their notable injuries they get during the story? IE erwin's arm, hanji's eye, levi's scars, eye, and fingers ect? I hope this was clear enough I hope you have a nice day/night!

Sure thing and don't worry I understood you're request just fine, thank you. I hope you're having a nice current timezone anon :)

(Gender neutral reader)

Erwin Smith

Things are... mostly the same as the were before for the most part. Not right away though because of course all the stuff with Rod Reiss, Historia, the man hunt for Survey Corps heads, and the fact Erwin was quite literally sentenced to death not that long after losing it so things were of course very hectic to where there wasn't really a good adjustment period until the two month preparation period to reclaim Shingashima.

It's a shame really, it was his dominant hand too, now all his paperwork is signed with a slight messiness to it he isn't exactly a fan of. But he makes do, relearning and rewiring how his brain works to make up for the lost limb. But even if he doesn't say it out loud, you know more than anyone exactly how hard it is for him - even if to so many people he has so many different airs and appearances to keep.

"Oh it's just an arm, a small sacrifice for the greater good of Humanity. Many good, amazing, talented people have lost more. This is a minor scratch compared to that."

That's what he told Nile that night over dinner together with you and Marie too after Erwin's charges had been offically cleared off the records. Truth be told, none of you at that table bought it, even if he really did intentionally mean it - you three knew him, and it was subtle but with how he struggled to pick up and properly use the fork in his sole surviving hand spoke all it need to. It was a very human struggle - one he did everything to hide.

He can't shave his face by himself anymore, he has trouble putting his uniform on every morning, he needs to relearn how to use ODM gear in a modified way, he has to do an awkward version of the salute now, he struggles with how to maneuver and get himself clean in the shower for the longest until he comes up with a routine on how to do it one handed, he still has enemies so he has to rewire how he thinks of defending himself, he has to learn how to deal with this odd... phantom feeling of his missing arm still being there like in the stories he'd hear from injured soldiers. It's all hard, but he manages, braves through but he's very thankful to have you and so many close others at his side that are willing to help him through it.

Also misses holding your hand. During a meeting with Queen Historia, her Majesty speaking excitedly about her plans to help out orphans - specifically those from Underground, as Levi had made sure to suggest - that as the core members of the Survey Corps stood in audience, he couldn't help but to glance over at where you stood at one side of him, nodding supportively along to Historia's desires about letting the children have fun on her new acquired farm lands, that does he stare at you - at your hand more specifically, as you are standing at his side with the dangling green military coat sleeve. It's rude, he knows, not paying attention as the Queen speaks about her noble causes but he finds himself not being able to help it. For just a second - and maybe, probably, he's deluding this - but for a second he feels the empty sleeve move on it's own to graze at your hand as to grab it - immediately gaining your attention as you stare over at him with your gorgeous eyes that every time he looks at him he falls in love all over again, over and over and the way your head questioningly tilts as if to ask him if something was wrong does his throat turn dry but his lips slightly part until-

A rough kick comes subtly to his paralleled ankle at his other side, Levi. The Captain doesn't look at him, he just keeps his arms crossed over his chest and intently listens to Historia's plans, however, he quietly scolds under his breath: "Pay attention."

Right... he was being very rude. He shouldn't get lost up in silly stuff like this in such important professional times such as these. But... when you suddenly reach over and hold onto the sleeve just as it were his flesh hand only weeks prior, so sincerely and lovingly... he can't help but the dumb smile on his face.

Everything will be fine. He's still the same man. There'll be struggle, some more getting use to - afterall, it's only been a couple weeks if not a month. There's plenty of recovery time in the future, he knows it. After Shingashima, he decides, maybe then he'll take some time off - spend with you and truly attune himself with the lacking arm. And maybe... maybe if he practices a bit first with his still lack of balance... he can still properly get down on his knees and take out that heavy ring in his breast pocket and ask you that question that's been on his mind.

Hanji Zoë

Going to be perfectly honest, the missing eye is the least of Hanji's issues at the moment. It's still a struggle, yes, the now partial blindness that they have to now wear a patch over and it takes a couple weeks to properly get accumulated and not bumping into walls, doors, tables, and other stuff on accident. But it becomes something that's like second nature to the new Commander very quickly on.

Now... the sight isn't the issue. The mountain of other things that came with Shingashima is, both mental and physical.

The obvious is the new Commander position, taking over Erwin's role puts so much on their shoulders and not just that - having to put on this brave face for the only - ten, including themselves, Survey Corps members that survived that bloodbath. They're in charge, everyone's looking up to them them for advice, for orders, for their command. Meanwhile... Hanji hasn't even had proper time to grief for not just one but two of their best friends... Erwin. Moblit... that first night was the roughest, coming back home, to their now old office and practically broke down crying where you had to comfort them all night - they didn't sleep for the next four days straight. They stayed cooped in that office while everyone else was on leave to go properly recover and only let you attend to them. Hanji isn't... the same after that - and everyone notices but doesn't dare to speak on it. They aren't the quirky titan-obsessed quack anymore. They were the calculating 14th Commander of the Survey Corps, Hanji Zoë.

Hanji is also particularly deaf in their right ear now, even if they were - mostly - uninjured from the Colossal Titan nuke, the sound of the impact definitely damaged it a bit before they were tossed in deep the well by Moblit. They've never said the fact out loud to anybody, only you and Levi are aware of the fact, but they read lips more often than not now. So you make sure you always make it able to where they can properly read your lips when you speak to them, and if you can learn a bit of sign language that would also be very helpful.

Doesn't sleep as much as they used to. They say it's because they're too busy - Commander work and still helping out ironing out political matters and issues that still came with Historia's crowing as the new Queen of the Walls and the hectic readjustment period of getting Maria's old settlements rebuilt and ready for resettlement - but that's not just it. There's the nightmares now. Keeping them awake just to not wake them up screaming in the middle of the night and you have to loose sleep comforting them. They should be fine with it, they tell themselves, after all what they said back on that roof to Mikasa was true; they've seen hundreds of their comrades die - no actually, not a hundred... too many more than that to count. And each time they've been strong about it... distracting themselves in their research not to let themselves dwell on it too long. But now... no matter how hard they tried, nothing worked. Maybe it's because it was Erwin and Moblit, the closest two other people they had besides you and Levi. Or maybe it's because only ten fucking people out of the entire fucking Regiment survived that damn day.

And now that the truth is out there, what titans actually are, titan research isn't fun anymore. They could very easily drag one in a captured area and poke amd prod and maybe learn a little bit more on how the transformation process actually works - Connie Springer's mother would be a good example but just looking at that boy they can't bring themselves to even suggest it - but they don't. They just... sign off on papers all day. Try not to think about overseas that much. Not yet anyway.

Things are slightly better by the time you've made contact with the volunteers and the core Scouts had made their way to embark on Marley. Seeing new sights, new people, new inventions none of you could possibly even dream of was quite thrilling. Hanji has a great time, holding onto your hand and sporadically yapping on and on about this "car," or this "tele - phone," or this "controllable electricity." in the exact same manner and way they use to about titans - that wide shit eating smile that goes from ear to ear plastered to their face for the first time in years you love to see as you nod along and just listen and let them ask Onyankopon every possible question that comes to their head - the man having trouble even keeping up with them. It's nice while it last... but it's not too long until the 14th Commander comes back when reminded about why you're all here in the first place...

It's late at night one night, the night before you were all supposed to go back to Paradis does Hanji stare up at the ceiling of your shared room in the Azumabito astate. They have their eye patch off - feeling comfortable around you for you to see the mangled socket that normally rests underneath - as they lie back in bed and listen to you shuffle around to get into your night-wear to get ready to join them.

"I'm thinking..." They finally speak, you look back over your shoulder at them - sprawled out on messy sheets with only wrapped circuit of bandages around their chest to hide the shape. "...I'm thinking that Armin should be my successor. What you think?"

You tell them he's a smart kid, very talented at what he does but... given, past history... you express your feelings that it might be a lot to put on him, given the position of it's weight. Erwin's weight. Erwin's impact. Hanji's impact.

Yeah, probably true, they tell you. And they reminisce on how they felt when Erwin had dropped the sudden bombshell on them... God. They were turning more into him everyday... but you crawl over to the bed and start to kiss their face before the Commander can sulk in it. You love them, you tell them that every chance you get and it never fails to leave a gentle look in Hanji's remaining eye, their expression softening. They joke, saying how much you probably miss the old up-beat crazy Squad Leader Hanji... but you shake your head, hands so loving on their face as you tell them straight up you love them now just as much as you did back then - damaged and all.

Without hesitation they ask you to marry them.

Levi Ackerman

Hard. Very hard at first. He can only particularly see, for the first year or so his stitches itch to a very grading degree, he has only eight digits on his hands where using the left is... very difficult, especially with his unique ways of holding things, and he can't walk. Humanity's strongest - that ridiculous title... now look at him. He "entered" the Survey Corps ten years ago and now every single person around him then is dead - except you. During those first few days of the Rumbling he didn't really think about it - with all the shit going on he had other things to think about than have time to really... process. But here he is now, couple days after the "Battle of Heaven and Earth," as he's hearing people call it. Now in his time to heal does it really set in. And at first he doesn't take it... well.

Once he's well enough to be off bedrest and he's in that "damn chairwheels," you and Onyankopon manage to buy him (hard to come by given how... very much damaged the world still is post Rumbling) you're going to have to have to keep your eye on him because for the first couple weeks he will try to get up and walk around - only damaging his hurt leg more. He feels restricted in it, he wants to go where he damn well pleases - you tried crutches for a while but... he's actually too short for the ones you manged to find post Rumbling, so he's left to that chair. It just takes him time to get use to, that's all. Eventually though, months after the Crisis has been over, it's when you start taking him out places - steering him through the rebuilding cities of Marley, talking about God knows what, that he starts to come around... maybe it's not that bad, annoying, sure, but he feels a lot calmer now. Those kids - Gabi and Falco, they help too. Sometimes they drive him around but he isn't exactly the biggest fan when they clumsily knock him into shit though but they're cute kids, they remind him a lot of much younger versions of Isabel and Farlan, how they'd bicker all the time...

The two of you have a cabin together in Marley, a nice cozy cabin that with the help of Onyankopon - who smuggily calls himself a bit of 'builder' - is modified a bit so that it's more accessible for Levi to move around, plenty enough ofvplace to roam so he doesn't feel couped up like he expressed he didn't want when getting the place. It's nice though, Levi's never had a real house before - only somewhat exception being that dingy little apartment he and Kenny used to live in Underground and then he lived with Farlan and Isabel in it too before joining the Corps. Besides that it's always just been either a whorehouse, military base, or temporary spots he wouldn't even shit in. All shared spaces. Not something that was... his. Though of course he lives with you, you are his s/o but you're different. No, he lived... with you. You own this house together. It's his. It's yours. It's yours (plural).

He can't clean as properly as he use to, getting down on the ground and scrubbing top to bottom and every single crack in the room, of course he can't do that anymore so - and to make him feel better, feel good and comfortable in your own home together you do it, you keep the place always spotless. And he still wants to actively clean of course, the process has always been therapeutic for him, he just can't do it as thorough as he once did but he still will do what he can from the confines of sitting down while you do all the very high and very low lifting.

His senses are still sharp, even with his half blindness. But even still, you always make sure to stand on his good side and if your on the blind you make sure to audibly announce your presence even if he could probably still sense you - Ackerman biology boosting it by tenfold, after all - you do it because it's polite and he does appreciate that.

Mostly handles things with his good hand anyway but is in the habit of dropping things whenever it comes to his less-good one, there's only so much you can do with only three fingers (including thumb) on one hand without being issues. It takes awhile before he even let's you hold that hand again and when he does the first several times he always hesitates, but it all flutters away when you carefully and gently intertwine your fingers with his good ones and your pointer and middle finger lovingly folds over his numbs. Or when you kiss delicately at each of his knuckles on that hand... it's weirdly sweet, weirdly romantic, he thinks.

It's been three years now. Domestic bliss is something Levi never thought existed - or he he did, never, never ever in his thirty-seven year life would he ever think he'd get to live such a thing. The two of you sit in front of the lake off to the side of your cabin, sitting on a lunch-bench watching on as Gabi and Falco are completely red in the face, awkwardly and loudly confessing their feelings to one another in only that embarrassingly sweet way teenagers could. It's sweet... to watch on. You look over and see the small, subtle yet warm, soft smile on Levi's lips. Proud of them, those two dumb kids that's been helping the two of you out for years now. You laugh, causing him to look over at you.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing,"

The giggling in your chest dies down as you watch as the two kids untactfully bump their faces together in an attempted kiss but Falco jolts back holding his forehead in pain, and Gabi's face to turn an even darker red as she yells something at him.

"Do you think we're too old now to act like that?"

Grey eye rolls. "When have I ever acted like that?"

"Oh I can name quite the few times when we first first started dating-"

He suddenly grabs at your face with a: "Hush." before kissing you, the worn stitches on his lips against yours always feel nice. Then he leans back, staring at you with lingering thoughts before his eye flicks back over to the kids now sweetly in each other's arms.

"You know, I was going to ask you something today but those brats decided to go ahead and make it about themselves..." He says, no real malice in his voice, just teasing. But you tilt your head out of curiosity.

"Ask me what?"

He sits back on the bench and stares out onto the lake. His wheelchair is parked off to the side, it's in a bag. He could reach over and pluck it out now. It was something he actually picked out years ago... something he never thought he needed because he never expected to reach this point together with you but Hanji talked his ear off into buying it and Erwin gave him this... teasing encouraged look with that weird smile of his that he'll never forget for the rest of his life. And he's kept it with him, all the time, it's always been on him in some shape or form. Honestly he wasn't sure how you didn't manage to find it already.

He looks back over to you and you're still intently staring back over at him. Maybe. Maybe he still could now.

"Ask me what?"

If you like what you read please consider reblogging! It means the world for writers and artists!

#attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #erwin smith #erwin smith x reader #erwin x reader #hange zoe #hange zoe x reader #hanji zoe #hanji zoe x reader #hanji x reader #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #erwin #hange #levi #mine #gender neutral reader #attack on titan fluff

[catherinnn]

fight-stopper

after eddie and reader move in together on a little apartment of their own, they start fighting more often over household routinary things, to prevent this, they find the perfect fight-stopper.

warnings: SMUT +18, oral (f receiving), very suggestive material, domish Eddie, domestic and stablished relationship obviusly, cursing.

Eddie had just came home from work after a hard stressful day, he went to the kitchen to make himself some dinner only to be greeted with all the dishes you had used to cook, unwashed, one on top of the other in the sink waiting for someone to clean them. he walked back to the living room where you were laying on the couch reading peacefully as if the kitchen wasn't an entire mess.

"sweetheart, did you eat already?" he asked faking patience.

"Yeah, I cooked for both of us so you could just come back and eat, I know how tired you come back on Mondays" you said.

"That's... sweet, very thoughtful, but do I have to clean all the mess too? I mean, I know I'm not one to talk, but I at least do the dishes after cooking"

"No, I know but I was gonna wash them later, I really don't want to do that right now"

"Yeah, you never want to do them, I always end up doing the dishes, sometimes when I didn't even eat!"

"I'm sorry-"

"You were just waiting for me to come back and offer to clean them, weren't you?"

you couldn't deny that, he had caught you on that. you could be sounding a little childish or spoiled but you hated doing the dishes.

"I can't believe you, you're an adult now, you can't..."

he kept on complaining, and this wasn't the first fight you were having since you moved in. you wished it would be like the start of your relationship where all that mattered was sex and cuddles, being close to each other all the time. And that's when an idea popped into your head. if you had learned something about Eddie since you started dating was his love for you boobs, his absolute weakness if he had one.

so you decided to use that against him, it was all for the sake of stopping the fights really. you pulled your shirt up just enough so he could see them and maybe forget about the damn dishes.

and so he did, he stopped talking mid-sentence and stared at your chest.

"Is this how you want to handle this? alright" he ran to you and picked you up on his shoulder leading you to your room.

that's where this fight-stopper started and you both learned to use it to your conviction.

"EDDIE!" He heard you yell from the bedroom.

he cringed because he knew what this could be about and walked to you.

"Yes, princess?" he asked with his best puppy face.

"look at this MESS! you can't leave the bedroom like this, you're not living in your own room alone anymore, this stresses me out so much and you know that!"

he was looking for a Metallica shirt this morning, but he couldn't find it, so in desperation he started to throw everything out of the closet until he found it and then he just left, leaving all the pile of clothes on the floor.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-"

"You have to be kidding me..."

as he heard you complain about his mess, he knew there was just one thing that would make you forget about it.

he walked to be in front of you and fell to his knees, he started leaving kisses on your thighs and repeated telling you how sorry he was. moving upwards with the kisses on your leg until he had his face under your skirt, with his hand he moved your panties to a side and started kissing your pussy. licking your clit just the perfect way to make every thought in your head fly away.

but one of his favorites so far was when he was showering one morning.

"Eds, please I need the bathroom too! you're taking too long!" you yelled from outside.

"I'm showering, y/n!" He responded and kept massaging the shampoo on his hair.

That was until he heard the bathroom door opening.

"y/n?" he called you.

you didn't respond this time, just undressed yourself and got in the shower too, you couldn't be late to work.

It's safe to say that you got there late anyways, but at least it wasn't because of a fight. and you got there with a satisfied look on your face.

maybe it wasn't the healthiest way of dealing with the problems you had on a day-to-day life. but the living together could be difficult to adjust to, and this was a method you kept using to prevent angry fighting and talk about the problem a lot more relaxed later.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson blurb

[yelenasdiary]

Bed for Three

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Wanda comes home to find you and the twins cuddled in bed, sick. 

Fluff | Comfort | No Warnings | 1.4K

AC: Another late-night idea that I had! Also, sending get well wishes @mywitchy-assassin ! I hope you feel better soon, my love x

"Honey, I'm off to work" Wanda whispered softly as she placed a kiss on your forehead. Wanda hated waking you up, but she also didn't want you to wake up in a worry. "Have a good day, baby" you mumbled as you snuggled into the covers, you'd have at least another hour of sleep before you'd have to get up and start getting the twins ready for school. 

Wanda smiled softly at you, soaking up the last image she'd see of you until she came home. Mission reports and plenty of Avengers meetings were booked today and Wanda wanted to be at the compound early to get the reports out of the way. 

Your alarm was always the worst sound in the world to you, shut it off you sat up and stretched your tired body out before stepping into the bathroom to prepare yourself for a tough morning. The twins loved school, they got to see their friends of course, but getting them up at 7am was always a struggle. You'd take a quick shower before making sure their breakfast was on the table ready. 

"Boys, it's 7" you spoke softly as you opened their door, straight away you could hear in their voices there was no way they would be going to school. "Ma, I don't feel so well" Billy pulled the covers over his head while Tommy agreed, "my head really hurts" He spoke softly as if even the sound of his voice was making his headache worse. "Oh no" you said to yourself as you walked over to Tommy and gently placed a hand on his forehead, "you're a bit warm honey" you added. 

"I think I'm going to be sick!" Billy jumped out of bed in a rush to the bathroom. Your mother instincts kicked in as you quickly followed him. Luckily for you he made it to the toilet before throwing up last night's dinner and ice cream, you grabbed a clean hand towel and soaked it with warm water before handing it to Billy to wipe his mouth. "I think you boys are staying home today" you pressed your lips together before helping Billy back to bed. 

"Can we sleep in your bed please Mama?" Billy asked, his tired and weak tone made your heart break. You hated seeing your boys unwell. "Of course, my loves, come on. I'll make some tea and get you a bucket" you replied, both boys slowly got out of bed and made their way to your shared room with Wanda and made themselves comfortable as you placed a bucky and towel on Billy's side of the bed then made your way downstairs to make some tea. 

Water and light food for Billy, pain killers, fruit and honey lemon tea for Tommy should do the fix you thought, well, you hoped. Wanda was always better at this stuff than you were, she knew exactly which foods to cook to make sure you and the boys got all the goodness you needed to keep your body from feeling any worse. As much as you wanted to call her, you knew she was in for a busy day and that meant this mission was all yours to handle. 

The day was spent in bed with your boys as they both rested their heads on your shoulders while the three of you watched movies on Disney +. The boys fought over which movie to put on only to be reminded that if they could fight over movies, maybe they weren't too sick after all. For lunch it was light foods for Billy to nibble at, Tommy had some fruit and a sandwich before taking a cold and flu tablet when he started to complain about having a sore throat and his headache not getting any better. 

By the time Wanda got home you and the boys were fast asleep with the last movie the boys picked playing in the background as the end credits rolled. Wanda noticed the house was rather too quiet for a family of three to be home. The boy's backpacks weren't thrown on the sofa like normal, their shoes weren't in random places on the floor in the living room and their home wasn't sat on the dining table waiting for you and Wanda to help them. 

She wandered upstairs and followed the sound of low music coming from the bedroom, the soft smile on her face when she saw her wife and two children snuggled up in bed, tissues littered the bedside table next to Tommy while the bucket next to Billy sat clean. "My loves" Wanda shook her head softly as she turned the TV off and closed the door quietly behind her. 

The smell of food cooking downstairs woke you with hunger, your head now pounding with a headache and the boys still asleep beside you. One look at Tommy's red nose and cheeks and you knew that you'd caught whatever bug he had, you only hoped that you wouldn't also catch Billy's stomach bug. Carefully, you managed to slide out of bed without waking your boys and made your way downstairs where Wanda was in an element of cooking and singing softly to herself. 

"You're home" you spoked softly, now realizing your throat was itchy and dry. "Hi honey, you don't sound so good, go lay down on the sofa. Dinner is almost ready, pumpkin soup for the three of you" she smiled as she looked over at you. "The boys, they're not well. I don't know what Billy has but I think Tommy is coming down with a cold or flu" you explained with a pout, "I gave Tommy a cold and flu tablet and made sure Billy had light food, toast and water but I think I'm catching Tommy's bug" you added as you reached for the painkillers for your headache. 

"You should've called me darling, I would've come home" 

"I know but you said you had a lot to do today, and I didn't want to bother you" you grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and downed the two tablets. 

"Next time, bother me, okay? Now go back to bed or lay down on the sofa. I'm home now, I'll take care of yous" Wanda replied as she stirred the pot of soup. 

----

After dinner, Wanda put the boys to bed and made sure they were warm and had plenty of water to drink throughout the night, the twins completely worn out only confirmed with Wanda how sick they felt. "My poor loves, get some rest if you both still feel like this by morning, we'll make an appointment with the doctor" she kissed Billy on the forehead as she tucked him in. "I think we made Ma sick too" Tommy commented as Wanda made her way over to him, "I think you did" she chuckled, "we'll book an appointment for Ma too" she added with a kiss on Tommy's head. "Goodnight mom" the twins said in sync as Wanda made her way to the door, "goodnight boys" she smiled before flicking off their lights and closing the door over. 

"I just told the boys that we'll see the doctor tomorrow if they don't feel any better but morning, that includes you" Wanda smiled softly as she entered the bedroom where you were already snuggled and waiting for her, "I'm totally fine" you joked but your voice breaking wasn't convincing Wanda as she shook her head playfully at you. 

"I might take the guest room tonight; I don't think I want whatever you and boys have" 

"What? No" you pouted, "please stay, please give me cuddles, I promise I won't get you sick" you added with your best impression of puppy eyes. They always won Wanda over, she caved in and slid right in beside you. "If I get sick, don't cook for me" she chuckled as she wrapped her arms around you, "why's that?" you asked. 

"Honey, I love you so much but your cooking isn't that good and I feel it would only make me feel worse" Wanda replied with another chuckle before placing a kiss on your cheek, "fine then" you huffed playfully, "the boys and I will just order pizza" you added. 

"Goodnight honey" Wanda playfully rolled her eyes, "goodnight baby". 

A week later Wanda woke up with a pounding headache and a quick dash to the bathroom before making her way downstairs, looking between you and the twins with her arms crossed. "Oh no, you're not!" you said as you looked over at her while she nodded, "I'll call the doctor" You tried not to chuckle at your wife's unimpressed look.

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#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #fanfiction #marvel #wandavision