#they were sitting and talking for two chapters but a lot was discussed

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him. 

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye. 

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign. 

You look at it. 

And then you set your phone down. 

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness. 

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside. 

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes. 

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment. 

He looks good. Almost too good. 

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek. 

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head. 

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him. 

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully. 

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.” 

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek. 

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best. 

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body. 

You cover his hand with your own. 

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion. 

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies. 

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks. 

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense. 

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this. 

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy. 

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel. 

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm. 

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.  

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him. 

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you. 

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly. 

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds. 

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no. 

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful. 

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly. 

“Yes, please.” 

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting. 

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine. 

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it. 

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for. 

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings. 

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present. 

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster. 

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest. 

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place. 

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand. 

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair. 

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him. 

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful. 

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again. 

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you. 

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame. 

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you. 

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul. 

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” 

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin. 

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential. 

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands. 

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind. 

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK. 

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake. 

He knows. 

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity. 

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like. 

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before. 

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it? 

Maybe you have it all wrong. 

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you. 

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick. 

24 hours go by. 

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up. 

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure. 

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off. 

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking. 

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep. 

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed. 

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone. 

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said. 

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room. 

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while. 

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs. 

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones. 

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble. 

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no. 

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly. 

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence. 

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans. 

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure.  After a pause, he sighs in defeat. 

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown. 

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless. 

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up. 

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones.  It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic. 

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand. 

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket. 

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter. 

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges. 

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it. 

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer. 

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing. 

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?” 

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you. 

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?” 

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that. 

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before. 

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft. 

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest. 

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows. 

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts. 

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning. 

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration. 

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous. 

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them. 

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And  how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit. 

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice. 

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making. 

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now. 

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that. 

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers. 

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute. 

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base. 

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut. 

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock. 

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready—” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.” 

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk. 

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump. 

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment. 

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry. 

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!” 

He knows. 

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist. 

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding. 

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease. 

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more. 

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone. 

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide. 

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else. 

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you. 

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here. 

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength. 

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?” 

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink. 

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous. 

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue. 

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared. 

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out. 

“You regret your first time?” 

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does. 

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash. 

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins. 

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same. 

You want to scream bloody murder. 

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse. 

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence. 

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back. 

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me. 

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later. 

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was. 

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help. 

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does. 

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound. 

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more. 

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right. 

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here. 

“Goodnight.”

-

part five

[punkshort]

Roommates | 9. hold onto each other

Pairing: pornstar!joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You build up enough courage to finally talk things out with Joel and tell him how you feel before the wedding is over.

Chapter Warnings: language, food and alcohol consumption, lots of smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, oral (f!receiving), pussy pronouns, fluff, discussions of mental health, shower sex, mirror sex, having sex while on the phone (don't know what else to call it, also don't know if that requires a warning), thigh fucking?, dirty talk, idiots in love

WC: 7.6K

A/N: I will not apologize for what you're about to read. (It's filth. Pure, unadulterated filthy smut).

Series Masterlist

"That is the man you were roommates with?" your mother asked enviously as she gazed at Joel across the dance floor, who was standing with another groomsman while he held up his mom's pink sparkly phone to record her dancing with Tommy.

"Yep," you said longingly, tearing your eyes away from him to look back at your mom. She tilted her head to the side and her brow furrowed ever so slightly.

"He looks familiar."

Your eyes widened and you tried your best not to scream into the palms of your hands as images of your own mother stumbling across Joel's porn filled your head.

She snapped her fingers with a smile. "Mitch and I saw him at the bar the other night! He must have been helping Tommy, he was carrying boxes of alcohol."

You shook your head. "No, Mom, that couldn't have been him."

"No, I'm certain it was. I remember even telling Mitch at the time they looked alike. And I would never forget those arms. The way they practically burst out of his T-shirt-"

"Mom!" you whined, begging her to stop.

She chuckled and took a sip of her wine. "Oh, please, let me have my fun."

You groaned and drank the rest of your champagne. Well, at least she didn't recognize him from porn.

The song changed to another ballad and you watched as Mrs. Miller kissed Tommy on the cheek before breaking away and motioning towards Joel. A small smile tugged at your lips as he pocketed her phone and took her hand before leading her around the dance floor. His face was filled with such love and adoration that it made your heart melt.

As you continued to watch Joel and his mother move around the dance floor, you felt yourself growing nervous again. Now that the cake was cut and the first dances were done, most of the significant parts of the wedding were over. Which meant soon you would need to muster the courage to talk to Joel.

Fuck, maybe you should have one more drink.

No, you didn't want to be drunk when you told him. He needed to know you meant what you said. You've done enough to him in the past year, jerking him around and unintentionally hurting his feelings. If you had any shot in hell, you had to make sure you were somewhat clearheaded.

Your mother was just finishing up her cake when she looked over your shoulder. Her eyes lit up excitedly and she straightened up in her seat, smoothing down her dress. With a frown, you turned to see what she was looking at then felt your heart skip a beat when you saw Joel approaching.

"Evenin'," he said to your mother, his voice deep and syrupy. "I'm Joel, brother of the groom." He stuck out his hand and your mother giddily handed hers over while giving her name. He brought her knuckles to his lips and she giggled, making you roll your eyes.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," she gushed, her cheeks tinting pink already.

"Pleasure's all mine, ma'am," he answered, dropping her hand with a smirk. She gave you a look and raised her eyebrows.

"Ma'am, did you hear that?" she loudly whispered to you.

"Yes, I am sitting right here," you said flatly.

Joel cleared his throat and you looked back up at him.

"Was wonderin' if I could have this dance," he said to you, then glanced at your mother. "If you could spare her, that is."

Your mother giggled again and waved him off. "Of course! You two have fun, I was getting ready to go home soon anyway."

You quickly said your goodbyes to your mom before allowing Joel to lead you out onto the dance floor. He took one of your hands and held it out to your side, the other sliding around your waist while you rested your hand on his shoulder with a smile.

"I'm so honored," you told him with a teasing lilt to your voice as he slowly lead you around the dance floor.

"Why?" he asked, brows furrowed.

"I haven't seen you dancing with anyone else except your mom."

He smirked and tilted his chin up to look somewhere over the top of your head. "You been watchin' me?"

Your cheeks warmed from embarrassment but you didn't really care. "Maybe."

He hummed, smirk still stretched across his lips as he looked around the banquet room, but he wasn't really looking at anyone or anything in particular.

"You look handsome."

His eyebrows shot up and he looked down at you once again. "Thank you?"

You giggled and felt his fingers grip your waist a little tighter. "Is that a question?"

He grinned and shook his head. "Tryin' to flatter me, what're you up to?"

The butterflies began to stir in your belly once again so you dropped your gaze. "Well, there is something I wanted to talk to you about."

The smile slowly slid from his face when he heard the serious tone to your voice. "Everythin' okay?"

"Y-yeah, everything's fine," you quickly assured him. Just then, Michael Bublé's voice faded out and the DJ picked a Black Eyed Peas song that instantly caused the dance floor to break out into cheers, completely ruining the atmosphere from a moment ago. "Nevermind," you said as you attempted to step away, but he tightened his grip. "I'll tell you some other time."

"Tell me now."

You winced when a handful of girls nearby began to drunkenly scream along to the lyrics. Joel looked frustrated when he finally dropped his hand from your waist but kept his other hand firmly wrapped around yours. "Follow me."

He lead you through the crowd and as you passed by your abandoned table, you grabbed your clutch. Shit. Were you really going to do this? Were you really going to pour your heart out to him in the middle of his brother's wedding? What if he shot you down? What if he got mad at you for trying to drag him into your messy life once again? What if you were about to ruin the fragile relationship you just rebuilt?

He pulled you into the lobby, which was relatively empty given the time of night, and found a small area with a few couches and chairs and a television airing the local news on mute with the closed captioning on.

"Alright," he urged when you sat down next to him on one of the couches. You could hear the bass thumping from the closed banquet room and people's laughter echoing over the music, but otherwise it was quiet. You fiddled with the hem of your dress, trying to give your nerves a chance to settle, but it was no use.

"So, I told you I've been in therapy," you began, staring down at your lap, pretending to find a loose thread in your dress.

"Mhm."

"Lately, I've been working on my insecurities and self destructive tendencies. Specifically, related to you."

His fingers that were once casually tapping on the back of the sofa suddenly stopped.

"Okay..." he said slowly.

You cleared your throat and kept your eyes pinned to your lap.

"... and your job," you added, biting the inside of your cheek. "I've been working on... learning to be okay with it. Focusing on the source of my insecurities and why I feel the way I feel about it and I think I've made some progress."

"That's... good," he told you, clearly confused. "But why are you tellin' me this?"

You sucked in a deep breath and forced yourself to look at him. He was staring at you softly with his perfect lips pouting so enticingly, giving you the final bit of courage you needed to say what you wanted to say.

"I'm telling you this because... because I want to be with you, Joel. If you'll give me another chance, I want to do this right." His expression remained unchanged so you barreled ahead. "I don't care about your job. Not anymore. I just want to be with you. You make me happy, you make me laugh, I think about you all the time." You were growing more nervous with every passing second where he didn't say anything, so you continued to fill the silence with your own rambling thoughts. "Any time something good happens, I want to call you. Any time something bad happens, I want to call you. It's always you. It's always been you. And I'm sorry for everything I put you through and I'm sorry it's taken me so long to fix myself, but I couldn't -"

"Stop."

Your words died in your throat at his harsh tone. Biting your lip, you closed your eyes and tried not to cry as you waited for the sting of his rejection, but to your surprise, it never came. Instead, you felt his fingers gently pinch your chin. You opened your eyes to find him leaning forward, his gaze seeming angry despite his soft touch.

"You don't need to fix yourself," he said bitterly. "You're fuckin' perfect."

You exhaled loudly, a dry chuckle slipping past your lips as you wiped away a tear or two. "I'm not."

"You are," he told you firmly before finally closing the distance between you and brushing his lips softly against yours. "You are," he whispered again and again, each sweet kiss becoming more urgent than the last. You grabbed the collar of his shirt with both hands and held him close, pressing your mouth against his tightly before leaning back and pushing your foreheads together with a smile.

"Is that a yes?" you laughed.

"'Course it is, you kiddin' me?" he said quietly before sliding his hand up to grip the back of your neck, his nose gently nudging yours, the both of you taking a few tender moments to soak everything in with matching smiles. "I should probably tell you somethin', though."

One hand dropped from his collar and you tipped your head back a fraction so you could look him in the eye. "What?"

He grinned and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "I quit my job."

Your eyes widened and you leaned all the way back in surprise. "What?!"

"Months ago, actually," he said with a laugh. You smacked him on the shoulder but you weren't mad. In fact, you were smiling so much it almost hurt.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged. "I didn't wanna pressure you. You said you were workin' on yourself and all that."

Your lower lip trembled and you smacked his shoulder again, but with less force. "I can't believe you," you whispered before tugging him forward and sliding your tongue past his lips with a moan. There was something so beautiful to be had in that moment. Each of you had done something monumental to try to make it work between you and it was so moving, so powerful that you found yourself getting carried away, completely forgetting where you were as you climbed into his lap, his hands immediately dropping to squeeze your ass. But who could blame you, when you've waited so long for that moment?

Joel pulled his head back with a sharp inhale, breaking the kiss when he heard a door across the lobby open and close. "Do you... we oughta... they're probably wonderin' where we are." He lifted one arm so he could check the time on his watch, then glanced back up at you. You were staring down at him, breathless and needy, your eyes already drifting back down to his mouth.

You didn't need to say anything.

"Fuck it, c'mon," he said, quickly lifting you off his lap so you could both stand. In your eagerness to race to the elevator, you almost forgot your purse. Doubling back as fast as your heels would carry you, you grabbed it from the couch and hurried back just as the elevator doors opened.

He jabbed the L4 button numerous times until the damn doors slid shut.

"Christ, wanted this for so long," he whispered, eyes squeezing shut when you pushed him up against the side of the elevator. "Wanted you for so long," he corrected himself after a moment. Your mouth found the exposed patch of chest at the top of his shirt and your tongue slipped out between your lips, flicking against his skin as you continued to leave wet kisses everywhere you could find. You made it to the hollow of his throat when the elevator dinged and you tore yourself away to drag him down the hall.

"Which room?"

"Don't care."

You picked yours. Your fingers were shaking as you raked through your small clutch, then tapped the hard plastic against the sensor, getting frustrated when you were going too quick and the door wouldn't open. Joel chuckled behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, digging his hips against your ass so you could feel his arousal through your clothes.

"Not helping," you muttered before forcing yourself to slow down and finally the door gave way and you stumbled inside.

His mouth was on you in an instant. Eager lips pressed against your own, champagne soaked tongues reunited, tangling together while you recklessly shoved his tuxedo coat over his shoulders, leaving it crumpled on the floor near the bathroom as you made your way to the bed.

Joel's hands slid up and down the back of your dress, fingers plucking at the fabric, trying to locate the zipper without having to pull away. You tugged one of his hands to your side without looking, blindly leading him to his target. He smiled against your lips and yanked the zipper down so fast, he nearly tore the fabric.

Leaving your dress in a pile at the foot of your bed, you pulled away from the kiss so you could fall back onto the mattress. Your chests were heaving in unison as you both fought for air, staring at one another, anticipation growing thick.

His eyes drifted down your almost naked body while his fingers worked the buttons on his dress shirt, lips parted to suck in more air as he shook his head in disbelief.

"Is this real?" he asked, eyes catching yours once again after he shrugged off his shirt.

"I think so," you replied quietly, sounding just as incredulous. "I hope so."

He loudly unbuckled his belt, then the fly of his pants as you laid before him, sprawled out over the plush comforter like an offering.

"Ain't ever lettin' you go after this," he warned as he stepped out of his pants. "Never again, hear me?"

You nodded. "Please don't."

He cupped his palms around the backs of your knees and tugged, pulling you to the edge of the bed with one rough motion.

"As pretty as these are, they gotta go," he murmured, hooking his fingers around the lace edge of your panties and sliding them down your legs. A little pained sound rumbled in the back of his throat when he spread your knees and saw the evidence of your arousal between your legs. He fell to his knees and rested the side of his face against your thigh as he gazed down at your aching center.

"Missed you," he whispered lovingly into your folds before dragging his tongue, slow and broad, through the entire length of your slit.

"Oh, my god," you whined when his lips puckered around your clit and gently sucked. "Were you talking to me or her?"

You felt his lips twitch against your sensitive skin and released your bundle of nerves with a little moan. "Was talkin' to her but I missed you, too."

Some sharp, sarcastic comment was on the verge of slipping past your lips but quickly got swallowed down and forgotten when he began to lick, his tongue probing into your cunt while his upper lip pressed against your clit. The friction from his beard on the most sensitive part of your body made you see stars. Your back arched and you cried out his name, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he continued to lick and suck with a deep groan.

"Joel," you whimpered, legs weakly stretching and kicking under his ministrations. He quickly put a stop to that by grabbing both and tossing them over his shoulders then using his hands to grip your thighs, but still you writhed in his hold.

"Y'got know idea what you do to me," he whispered under his breath before diving back in.

"Fuck... I-I can't..." you panted, fists grabbing the comforter, pulling and tugging, desperate to grab onto anything. His fingers dug into the crease of your thighs, holding your hips against his face, fucking you relentlessly with his tongue as if he were afraid he would never get a chance to do it again.

He slid one hand flat over your mound and pressed down on your clit with his thumb. You bucked off the bed, everything feeling too sensitive, too sharp. But still, he pinned you down, his tongue that was once lapping at your pussy suddenly more focused and calculated when his lips puckered together in favor of loudly kissing your sex with a deep groan.

With two quick and firm circles over your clit, you fell apart. He was saying something, you could feel the vibrations of his voice, but you had no idea what he said. Your throat had grown hoarse, fingers grabbing for his hair while your heart pounded in your ears.

"It ain't ever been like this," he said, and finally you were able to understand him. You slowly opened your eyes to find him hovering over you, his beard and mouth shiny with your slick and his eyes so wide and soft it made your chest ache.

"I know," you whispered, running a hand through his hair. He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering closed when you pulled him close and pressed your mouth against his. He pushed you up the bed so your head rested on the pillows, never once breaking the deep kiss. It was slower, now. There was no rush, no need to hurry to keep what you had a secret.

"Shit, my condoms are 'cross the hall," he mumbled against your lips. The very last thing he wanted to do was leave you. Not now. Not ever.

"Just make sure you pull out," you told him, apparently also unwilling to let him leave, and reached down between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his thick length.

"Y-yeah, okay... okay," he breathed when he felt you line him up with your entrance.

His brain went numb and his features went slack as he slowly eased inside you. He couldn't take his eyes off your face; the way your eyebrows pinched together and the sound you made when you gasped softly, your body being forced to adjust to his size after months without him.

"Fuck," you whispered, eyes welling with tears as you gazed up at him.

"I know, I know," he murmured, leaning down to brush his lips over your nose.

"Joel, I love you," you whimpered in his ear when he finally buried himself fully inside you.

"What?" he asked breathlessly, certain he misunderstood.

"I love you," you repeated, your teeth nipping at his chin as you writhed underneath him, willing him to move. His eyes squeezed shut and he wrapped his arms around your middle, nuzzling his face into your neck.

"I love you, too," he choked out, voice thick with emotion that he tried to stifle with kisses to your throat and jaw. "Love you so fuckin' much. Always did, I think."

He clenched his jaw and flexed his hips, pulling a sweet moan from your lips as you tipped your head back and closed your eyes. He was so slow with it, making sure you felt every inch when he dragged his cock in and out, your arousal painting his inner thighs every time his hips made contact with your skin. You might have felt embarrassed if you both weren't so preoccupied with trading love bites and occasionally whispering you feel so good, I missed you, I love you, I love you, I love you, chests pressed together, desperate to get as close as possible.

You unhooked your ankles from his lower back and slid your legs up his sides so your knees were resting near his ribs. With his tongue still tangled with yours, he blindly reached down to grab one of your thighs and gently pressed forward, pushing your knee towards your chest. Your eyes flew open and you gasped at the intense angle, but still he kept up the same pace. Every thrust was slow and deep, every groan was low and soft, and every whisper sounded like a prayer.

"Just wanna feel you," he murmured against your neck, his beard scraping your skin, making it feel warmer than it already was. "Wanna fuck you like this always. Shit, baby," he moaned when he felt you clench around him. "Shit, that feels good. Such a soft pussy..." he trailed off and latched onto your lips for a fast and messy kiss. "Oh, fuck... best fuckin' pussy I've ever had."

And oh, did you love hearing that. You smiled and threaded your fingers through his hair, nails scraping gently over his scalp with a deep sigh.

"Yeah? You love her, too?"

He grinned. "Y'know I do."

He hitched your other leg over his arm, practically bending you in half while grinding into you, watching as your breath quickened and your tongue shot out to wet your lips. "Joel," you whined, the pressure mounting low in your belly, "I'm close, I'm... fuck, I'm gonna come. Please," you begged, not really sure what you were begging for in the first place. Maybe for him to keep going. Maybe for him to kiss you again. Maybe for him to fill the hole in your heart that's been destroying you for months.

When you came, you squeezed around his cock, his name getting caught in your throat when his mouth crashed over yours.

"So pretty," he mumbled, voice a little strained as he tried to keep it together long enough for you to come down. "Love watchin' you come. Who makes you feel good, baby?"

"You do," you whimpered, weak fingers grabbing at his shoulders.

"'S'right," he said, his breath growing ragged. He could feel his stomach tensing and he knew he only had a few more moments. "Only me. Tell me you're mine," he pleaded, his sweaty forehead dropping to your shoulder.

"I'm yours, Joel," you told him, voice a little clearer but still shaky. "And you're mine," you added softly, corner of your mouth lifting when you heard him groan.

He pulled out and grabbed his cock, giving it only a few quick strokes before he painted your stomach with his release, the both of you watching in a daze until he stopped with a shudder and collapsed onto the bed next to you, chest heaving with an arm draped tiredly over his eyes.

"I'll get somethin'," he told you, gesturing vaguely towards your stomach with his eyes still hidden. "Just... gimme a second."

"Mhmm," you mumbled, catching your breath with your arms stretched above your head. "I need a shower, anyway," you told him, all the hair products and makeup from the past twelve hours beginning to feel like paint.

"Oh?" he questioned, sounding disappointed when he turned his face to you. "Okay, sure."

"Will you stay?" you asked, hating how pathetic you sounded. But he smiled warmly and pinched your chin before planting a soft kiss against your lips.

"'Course I'll stay," he whispered, kissing you slowly once more before releasing you.

Joel watched with a lazy smirk as you stood with a quiet ow under your breath, your body no doubt already sore.

"Gonna have to get that pretty pussy used to me again," he teased, laughing and dodging the pillow you grabbed from the other bed that you chucked in his direction before entering the bathroom and shutting the door.

He laid in your bed, staring at the ceiling as he listened to the water turn on and the shower door close. He kept waiting to wake up, kept thinking the past hour was some crazy dream or fantasy, but it was real.

You loved him.

For years, he tried to find someone like you. Someone who would love him for him and not just use him. Sure, in the beginning he didn't mind being used. But the past few years he found to be painfully lonely. Especially once Tommy met Maria, that ache in his chest grew every time he saw them together, or every time he heard Tommy on the phone or talk about her with such fondness in his eyes. Selfishly, he always wondered why not me?

Now he had his answer. He was just waiting for you.

He heard you humming in the shower, your voice echoing off the glass walls and he smiled. He imagined you in there cleaning yourself up, your perfect body all soapy and wet and he felt his cock twitch.

"Shit," he muttered, lifting the thin sheet to see himself begin to swell once again. Would it always be like this? Would he always have an insatiable appetite for you?

A minute later and he was almost fully hard once more. He palmed it over the sheet and he looked longingly at the closed bathroom door. What was taking so long?

Then a smirk spread across his face and he jumped up from the bed, cock bobbing at attention between his legs as he walked to the bathroom and quietly opened the door.

The mirror was fogged up and so were the glass shower walls. He could hardly see you through all the steam, but he heard you. He heard the water cascading off your body and your fingers running through your wet hair.

Carefully, he opened the door and was pleased to find your back was to him as you rinsed out the last of your conditioner. When he wrapped his arms around your waist, you jumped and screamed a little before collapsing into a fit of laughter and turning around in his arms. Fuck, you looked so beautiful. All the makeup was down the drain but you looked more radiant than ever.

He leaned forward for a wet kiss, his hands sliding down to cup and squeeze your ass before pulling on your hips, tugging you closer so you could feel how hard he was for you.

"Need you," he murmured, but he meant more than just the obvious. He didn't want to be without you now that he had you, not even for a second.

"Already?" you breathed, but he just nodded, his lips dragging down your neck, your skin smelling like roses and vanilla.

"Too much?" he asked, mouth trailing slowly over your shoulder. Your nipples were pressed against his chest and his cock nearly hurt from how hard he was.

"No," you whispered, letting your eyes slide shut as you curled your arms around his neck. "Never too much."

Without hesitation, he crouched and grabbed the backs of your thighs, hauling you off the ground so he could press your back against the glass. You wrapped your legs around his waist and gasped when the tip of his cock nudged at your opening, the width surprising you, even still.

You let out a loud moan when he pressed forward, sinking himself back into your sore, aching heat, right where he belonged. One of his hands supported your ass and the other was flat against the glass next to your head, his fingers leaving wet smudges as he rocked his hips into you, swallowing down every whine and moan that tumbled from your mouth. That perfect fucking mouth he dreamed about for the past year. And now it was all his.

"God, Joel, yes... right there," you cried out, cunt already pulsing and gripping him so tight that he had half a mind not to pull out that time.

"Yeah?" he groaned, his eyes dark with lust as he nipped at your chin, watching as your head rolled listlessly against the foggy glass while he drove into you over and over. "There?"

"Yeah," you practically whined, hand shooting up to grab his hair, fingers slipping through his wet curls. "No one's ever... I can't... you're so-" you rambled half formed thoughts as your heart hammered in your chest, your orgasm steadily climbing, unable to tell him what you wanted to tell him.

"No one's what, baby?" he growled, thrusting himself impossibly deeper inside your cunt. "No one's ever fucked you this good? Huh?"

"No," you whimpered, biting down on your lower lip.

"What else? No one's ever made you come this much? Tell me, I wanna hear it," he groaned in your ear, his hot breath melting with the steam from the shower.

You shook your head then nodded, as if you didn't know how to answer. And you couldn't. Not when he was fucking you like it would be the last time.

"No one's ever - oh, fuck," you gasped, swallowing a mouthful of air, "no one's ever m-made me feel so good. I've never w-wanted anyone the way I want you." You squeezed your eyes shut but he quickly bit your jaw, forcing them back open.

"Keep your eyes on me."

You nodded, jaw half open as you did as you were told. His brows were furrowed deep, eyes wild and skin flushed as he pounded into you, forcing you over the edge for the third time in less than two hours.

"I got you," he murmured when your body sagged from the effort. He wrapped both arms around you now and fucked up into you recklessly, chasing his own high as quickly as possible so he could take you back to bed and rest.

Even though the voice inside his head was screaming at him to come inside you, he miraculously pulled out, spilling himself all over the shower wall between your legs.

"You okay?" he asked breathlessly, setting you down but still holding onto your shoulders. You nodded and slumped against his chest, legs visibly shaking. He chuckled and reached for the shower knob, turning the water off before walking you towards the door. Swinging it open, he reached out blindly for a towel. Finding one, he wrapped it around your shoulders, swaddling you and keeping you warm while he reached for another.

He messily knotted it around his waist and led you to bed. You didn't even bother to put any pajamas on or remove the towel, you just buried yourself under the covers with a contented sigh.

Joel was about to turn back to the bathroom and clean up a bit before you spoke.

"Come to bed."

His heart clenched in his chest and he smiled as he rounded the bed and slid under the sheets to join you, unable to resist.

Quickly, you scooted over to him, tossing a leg over his stomach and an arm over his chest and buried your face against his neck. He held you close, breathing in deep before you whispered, "I love you, Joel."

"I love you, too," he spoke into your hair, his chest ready to burst with happiness as you both fell into a deep sleep.

When you awoke the next morning, you smiled before you even opened your eyes. Joel's natural scent combined with the floral shampoo you used that the hotel had left out filled your nostrils. You breathed in deep and buried your face further into his warm, bare chest. He stretched underneath you, muscles pulling under his tanned skin, his fingers digging into your shoulders as he flexed.

"Morning," you whispered groggily, eyes still closed. You felt his arms wrap around you as he rolled onto his side, tugging you against him.

"Mornin'."

It can always be like this now, you thought. Waking up next to each other whenever you wanted. No sneaking around, no more hiding how you felt. It was perfect.

Until Joel's phone rang shrilly on his nightstand. He groaned and, keeping one arm securely around you, reached behind him to grab it.

"Hello?" he answered, voice thick and rough with sleep. Your body responded instantly, your core softening at his voice like it was a command, but what came with it was also a tight hint of soreness from the night before.

You could hear Tommy's voice through the phone, but you couldn't make out what he was saying.

"Nah, I'm hungover as shit, gonna order somethin'," Joel said.

You thought he had been joking the night before about getting your body used to him again, but you began to realize he was probably being serious the more you squirmed around and felt the stiffness in your muscles and hips.

"Yeah, alright. If I don't see ya later, I'll catch ya at the bar tomorrow."

He tapped his screen and tossed his phone haphazardly behind him with a smirk. "C'mere," he murmured, pressing his swollen lips against yours, his hand drifting to cup your face.

Christ, you were sore but you still wanted him so badly.

You flicked your tongue against the seam of his lips, deepening the kiss the second he dropped his jaw. Right when you were about to curl your leg around his hip and roll over to straddle him, your own phone began to vibrate loudly against your nightstand.

You both froze, lips still seared together, then slowly opened your eyes.

"Hold on," you grumbled, rolling over so your back was to Joel, then picked up your phone.

"It's Maria."

"Answer it," he said, inching closer. He pulled you back against his chest, cock hard and pressing between your bodies as you begrudgingly answered the phone.

"Hey! Have a fun night?" you asked cheerily. Your eyes snapped up to see movement in the full length mirror across from the bed. It was narrow, but you could see from your stomach down. Joel was pushing the sheets off himself and you watched as his hand drifted in front of you, tugging the sheet away from your chest, exposing yourself to the cool air. When he palmed one of your breasts from behind, you had to bite back a moan so Maria wouldn't hear.

"So much fun! I hardly got any sleep," she was saying, but you could barely hear her when his fingers slid down to pinch your nipple. You turned your face upwards to gasp softly, hoping it didn't get picked up by the receiver.

"Yeah?" you asked, hoping that would be enough to encourage her, and it was.

Maria kept babbling about things that happened the night before, things you missed after you and Joel snuck away. She was telling you something about a groomsman who attempted to do a split in the middle of the dance floor and ended up ripping his pants when you saw Joel lift your leg in the mirror, hooking it around his inner elbow and spreading your hips wide. Embarrassment flushed your face when you saw your pussy in the mirror, already glistening with arousal.

Then his cock slipped between your legs, nudging at your folds, his smooth tip coating itself in your slick before he pushed forward, parting your swollen cunt. The pain was brief, yet intense, but you were entirely distracted with the way it looked in the mirror. How fucking big he was and how you opened up and stretched so beautifully for him.

"Did the phone cut out?"

"Huh?" you squeaked, eyes transfixed on your reflection, hips rocking steadily in rhythm with his. You felt him chuckle behind you, his arm pulling your leg up even more so you could see everything.

"I asked if you wanted to join us for breakfast? The rest of the bridal party is meeting at the restaurant downstairs in twenty minutes."

Fuck, he felt so good. Combined with the visual, it was almost too much.

"Uh, I'm gonna pass. I already ate, I'm pretty full," you told her, eyes briefly fluttering shut when he began to move faster, his skin lightly slapping against your ass. You thought you heard him mumble yeah, you are, and you had to bite down hard on your lower lip.

"Well, okay. If you change your mind, we'll be down there at ten."

"Okay, thanks! I better go, my mom's beeping in. I'll call you later," you said hurriedly, hoping you weren't being too rude but if you stayed on the phone with her for one more minute, you knew you wouldn't be able to hide what you were really doing.

Mercifully, she hung up and you tossed your phone onto the floor, uncaring where it ended up, and reached behind you to curl your fingers around the back of Joel's head. He leaned forward and kissed you. It was messy and heated, and the way you had to twist your neck was awkward, but it didn't matter.

"Fuck yeah, baby. Look how good you take me," he groaned in your ear when he spotted you glancing towards the mirror again. "So pretty, ain't it?"

"Mhmm," you whined, still entranced by the way his thick cock split you open and you knew for sure in that moment no one else would ever come close to Joel. You were stupid to try to fight it.

Your hand dropped to clutch your pillow, your stomach drawing tighter the faster he snapped his hips, every devastating thrust bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"I'm gonna come," you whimpered, and he readjusted his grip on your leg, prying you open as wide as you would go.

You felt his teeth graze your shoulder, his breath hot and quick as his exhale puffed against your skin.

"That's right. Come all over my cock, baby. Give it t'me," he growled, hips slamming into you from behind so forcefully it almost pushed you off the bed, each thrust driving him deeper and deeper inside you.

Your eyes squeezed shut and you cried out when you came, your walls pulsing around his length, your body trying to suck him in and keep him there and fuck if he didn't want that, too.

At the last second he pulled out, watching in a daze as he dropped your leg, his cock now sandwiched between your thighs. With a deep groan, he watched in the mirror as he shot thick, white ropes of his seed all over your legs and the hotel sheets.

"I love you," he gasped, his sweaty forehead pressed against your upper back as he dragged in mouthfuls of air, waiting for his pulse to settle. "'M sorry, can't stop sayin' it."

You reached behind you and found his hand. Lacing your fingers together, you wrapped his arm around your middle, mumbling I love you, too, never tiring of it.

You waited a respectable amount of time for the bridal party to eat and leave the restaurant before venturing downstairs together, hand in hand. You contemplated just ordering room service but you weren't entirely certain you could keep your hands off each other long enough to eat, so forcing yourselves to leave the room felt like the best option.

The hostess led you to a small table towards the back of the restaurant, the room still buzzing with activity even though it was late in the morning. Your fingers linked together across the table as you sipped your coffees, exchanging little smirks whenever your eyes met.

"Can I ask you a question?" Joel asked, and you almost found yourself laughing at how serious he suddenly looked.

"Of course."

He glanced around the dining room quickly before leaning across the table. "You ain't on birth control anymore?"

You knocked the heel of your hand against your forehead. "I'm sorry, I should've told - no, I'm not. I took myself off the pill because I wasn't... y'know," you trailed off, embarrassment creeping up your neck.

Joel couldn't stop his smirk when he put it together so he pursed his lips and tilted his face toward the table, trying to hide it before saying, "so you're tellin' me you didn't have sex with anyone else since me?"

"Don't act so proud," you teased with a grin.

"I ain't," he said defensively, then thought about it for a moment before laughing. "Okay, maybe I am."

You giggled as you watched him take a sip of coffee, daydreaming about your future together and all the endless breakfasts you'll share. You imagined getting up early for work and showering, then coming into the kitchen to find Joel in just his pajama bottoms pouring you both coffees with unkept hair, asking if you saved him enough hot water because he still had to get ready for work.

Work. Suddenly, your smile fell when you remembered something. "Wait, you said you quit your job?" you asked, and he nodded, his thumb rubbing against the inside of your wrist. "So what do you do now?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "You ain't gonna believe it."

"Try me," you teased, knees bumping together under the table. You were close but still felt so far apart.

"I bought the bar," he said, sounding almost sheepish. Your eyes widened in surprise.

"Our bar? Tommy's bar?" you questioned, and he nodded. "H-how?"

He chuckled again and raked his fingers through his hair with his free hand. "What'dya mean how? With money."

"Yeah, I figured that," you said with a roll of your eyes, "but you just bought a house, too. How can you afford all that?"

He opened his mouth to reply when the server came to drop off your food. You finally unlinked your hands so you could pick up your silverware, and only once your waitress left did he respond to your question.

"Porn paid good," he said with a shrug. "I did it for a long time and I lived with my brother payin' next to nothin' in rent and utilities."

"Wow," you breathed in awe before shoveling some eggs in your mouth.

He watched you eat quietly for a few minutes before clearing his throat, drawing your attention from your breakfast.

"Why didn't you just ask me to quit? I woulda done it."

You paused your chewing and set your fork down on your plate.

"Because," you began, swallowing your food. "I couldn't ask you to do that for me. It wouldn't feel right and I was afraid if I did, you would grow to resent me."

His brows furrowed and he reached a hand across the table for you. "I woulda never resented you."

"You don't know that," you told him.

"I wasn't happy doin' it. Not like I used to be, anyway," he said. "Kept me from havin' certain things in my life. Could never make a relationship work and as I got older, it was somethin' I really wanted. I just didn't know how to get out. I mean, who can put somethin' like that on a resume?" he laughed softly. "Then Tommy mentioned his boss was lookin' to retire and I thought, hell... won't have to put shit on a resume if I'm my own boss."

You nodded and squeezed his hand, feeling guilty for never realizing he had his own internal struggles going on. Then you swallowed nervously before asking your next question, your curiosity unable to be ignored.

"Well, what about Sadie?" you asked, "she seemed really into you and she obviously wouldn't have had a problem with your career."

He gave you a small smile, eyes flashing with guilt when he thought back to his brief date with Sadie. The night he invited her over for board games and he ended up going down on you in the bathroom while she was left to talk to strangers in the living room.

"She was nice but there wasn't anythin' there. Not really. I was jealous of Sam and knew she liked me... I shouldn't've asked her over that night. It was wrong," he admitted, rubbing his chin. "She never stood a chance. She wasn't you, baby," he said softly.

You felt your chest clench from the tortured look in his eye, and for the millionth time you mentally berated yourself for spending so much time avoiding your feelings for him. Choosing not to deny yourself any longer, you stood up from your chair and closed the short distance between you. Cupping his face with both your hands, you leaned down and kissed him, trying your very best to put every ounce of love you had into it. It must have worked because you could feel his lips curving into a smile, then yours did the same.

It didn't matter how long it took, what mattered was what you had now.

Unfortunately, your bliss was short lived when you heard an all too familiar voice shriek excitedly behind you. You tore yourself away to swivel around in surprise, only to find Tommy and Maria standing a few tables away with their jaws hung open in shock, very clearly having witnessed your kiss.

"I knew it!" she exclaimed, tugging on Tommy's arm to drag him over to your table. "I knew something was up when neither of you wanted to join us for food!"

Cheeks blazing hot with embarrassment, you were about to return to your chair but Joel's arm wrapped around you, pulling you to sit sideways in his lap. "No more hidin', yeah?" he murmured in your ear. You grinned and gave him one more quick peck.

"Yeah," you agreed right before they approached. "No more hiding."

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[novemberheart]

{overview} Your heat doesn't quite go as planned. Kate provides your pack with a predicament

{warnings} fem reader, poly141, a/b/o dynamics, heat cycles, MDNI, heat cycles, p in v sex, knotting, cursing

Chapter 22 <- Chapter 23 -> Chapter 24

There was a soft knock at the door making John stir.

“Come in,” he groaned, sitting up with you still against his chest. You mumbled something incoherent, drifting right back to sleep. Johnny came in with two takeout containers. John stood up, keeping a firm grip on you as he tossed a few pillows onto the floor, knowing you would throw a fit if your nest got dirtied by food. Johnny set the containers on the ground, grabbing Simon's hoodie off the bed and tugging it over your head.

You were out of it. Just a few hours ago Kyle had come in to make sure the two of you had water and said you were up and chatting, now you were like one of the pillows on the ground. There had been no moans or groans since last night, your first time, making everyone a bit nervous. You should be working through your heat. John threw on a pair of sweats, as Johnny had you propped up against some pillows. You smiled at him softly, wrapping your arms around his bicep. He pressed a kiss against your heated forehead, wanting nothing more than to stay with you.

“You can stay, ‘Tav,” John assured. He didn't seem too out of it. If it wasn't for his dark eyes and flushed appearance he would seem exactly the same. Johnny smiled, pulling you into his lap, and grabbing your lunch to feed you. You purred against him, happy to smell something other than John’s campfire and fog scent.

“Simon wants to call a doctor,” Johnny spoke slowly. John hummed, already knowing what he was speaking about. You should be deep into your heat by now, especially after being sexually active. He should be deep into his rut as well.

“Is a bit concerning isn't it?” John sighed, between bites. “Give her the rest of today. Her body is experiencing a lot of things it hasn't before. Our girl just needs some time to work through it, right pretty?” he questioned looking over at you. Your eyes were nearly closed, staring up at Johnny like you hadn't seen him in months.

“That’s fair,” Johnny agreed, working a spoonful of corn into your mouth. It was quiet for a moment.

“You gonna mark her?” Johnny asked- bordering on a request. It was the thing he hated most about being a beta. He would never be able to see his mark against your skin. At least he would be able to wear yours when the time was right.

“Didn’t quite discuss that too much before. We got a bit heated making out one time and she asked me to do it then. But I want her to have a clear head when she makes that decision,” John explained. His hand reached out, running up and down your leg.

“Would you let her mark you?”

“Absolutely,” John replied without missing a beat.

Kate groaned, trying to balance her coffee and tablet in one hand to fish her phone out of her pocket.

“Laswell,” She spoke, using her elbow to push a pile of papers off the edge of her desk.

“Kyle found something,” She immediately recognized Simon’s voice.

“That’s one of the things he’s good at,” Kate shot back, plopping down on the couch in her office.

“It's about our girl.”

Laswell froze.

“What’s wrong? She alright?” She had just talked to you a few days ago. You were nervous about the situation with your heat but were happy otherwise.

“Kyle was looking at her tracking app a couple of days ago when he noticed another chip under her name popping up under the ‘connect’ list. He clicked it and it knew her location and everything,” Simon explained.

“Did it have another name registered to it? Like how you and John are on hers,” Kate asked.

“Negative,” Simon sighed. “Kyle thinks it disconnected from the owner, that's how we were able to find it.”

“You think the owner is going to want to pursue it?” Kate questioned, her stomach beginning to turn.

“Hope they do,” Simon grunted. “It says it’s located in her leg- the chip.”

“The leg?” Kate mumbled. “It couldn't be a chip then. She would’ve felt it. It would have to be a small wire of some kind. Can you put her on the phone?”

“She’s in lockdown with the old man,” it was vague, but Kate knew what he meant. It also explained why John wasn't blowing up her phone right now. They couldn't discuss it with the two of you in such a vulnerable state. “Me and Kyle were thinking about flying back to base,” Simon added.

“You think it's that serious? Maybe she got it when she was little?”

“She would've known about it by now. They aren't meant to be in more than five years. Besides, we can't take any chances. If we don't pursue this and something happens”- Simon cut himself off.

“Look at L.T. Ghost taking care of his pack,” Kate smiled. She couldn't quite tell if the sound on the other end was a purr or static. “Let me dig through some medical files. If there is danger, you all should be there, especially when they are this vulnerable,” Kate reminded. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“Thank you, Laswell. For everything,” He clicked the red button before she could respond.

She had a feeling you were included in that ‘everything.’

It felt like you were watching yourself from behind a glass screen. You could see everything, hear everything, yet you couldn't take control. Forced to watch from the sidelines. John had eased the ache in your body last night, and the feeling had yet to return. Why hadn't it? What was wrong with you? Why couldn't you just be a normal omega? You couldn't even perform in your heat, or help your alpha with his still lingering rut. What good were you?

A loud whine woke him up, his head quickly shooting up from its resting place against your stomach.

“What pretty girl?” John soothed you, wrapping you tightly in his arms. How could he be so nice- so understanding? He should be out looking for a better omega.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, as he swept the tears away.

“Nothin' for you to be sorry about, love,” he assured instantly. He paused for a moment. “Why are you apologizing?” he asked softly. You hadn't done anything but be a perfect little omega for him, despite the fuzziness in your brain.

“I can’t,” was all you were able to get out, sobs wracking your body.

“Bloody hell, sweetheart,” he cursed softly. “No reason for that,” he used the hem of his shirt to wipe away your tears.

“I’m not a good omega,” you gasped through your sobs. A warning growl rumbled in his chest, making you jump. It was a natural instinct to bare your teeth at someone who talked b about your omega- even if it was the omega themselves.

“There’s definitely no reason for that,” he snarled, pressing a rough kiss against your cheek. He slowly put the pieces together as to what you were getting at. He didn't even think the toll of not completing your heat would have on your self-esteem. That was bullshit though. You were much more than how well you could fuck him in a delirious state and he was a bit surprised you even entertained the idea. His sensitive girl.

“If I can't get into a heat how am I supposed to take a knot, or be marked?” you grumbled sadly, finding the energy to paw at your face.

“You can get into a heat, pretty. Your body is still adjusting to the pack and to me. By this time next year we’ll be laughing about this.”

Next year? He wanted to keep you?

“You still want me?” It was the lowest sentence you had ever uttered, yet it was a blow to him.

His first feeling was that of insult. Did you think that lowly of him? That he would toss you to the curb just because you were having a bit of trouble? Then he saw the look in your eyes. You were so small- beat down and defeated over something he had hardly thought twice about. You weren't the you he was used to, you were the raw, unfiltered, scared version of yourself. The version that had jumped from omega holding house to omega holding house. The version of you that had been let down by so many people in your life. The version of you that had been overlooked and disregarded due to your status.

Now that version of you was his.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

“More than anything,” was all he could manage.

You were relieved when the fire returned in your veins. Your hands patting your alpha’s chest to wake him. He gasped awake, his trained eyes scanning around the room for a threat, relaxing when he just saw your happy face. He smiled softly until your scent hit him.

“There you are, pretty girl. Just needed some time,” He chuckled, rolling over so you were on your back. You nipped at his neck, your hands wandering under his shirt. He lets you do as you please, without rushing or urging you along. The soft pads of your fingers running over scars he had long forgotten about.

“You’re so handsome,” you mumbled, tugging his shirt off the rest of the way. He smiled softly, his beard tickling your cheek as he kissed along your clothed shoulder. The bare skin of your legs against his wasn't enough for him. He tugged Simon’s hoodie off of you, purring as he was finally able to feel you fully.

This time he went slow- as slow as he should've gone for your first time. He was drawing it out, with every drag of his hips you were pushed near the end only to be yanked back. You were a desperate little thing under him. So needy and scratchy that he had to put you on your stomach.

“Only patient girls get kisses,” is what he had told you. You whined, leaning your head back, hoping he was just being a tease. His hand gripped the base of your neck, gently pushing it back into the pillows. He chuckled- a bit cruelly- from behind you, a particularly deep thrust making you cry out.

“Please?” you whined, your bottom lifting off the bed so prettily for him. He hummed, running a hand all the way up your arched back. He leaned over you, his lips pressing against your wet cheek.

“I think the betas spoil you too much,” he mumbled, his hips returning to the slow speed. “Think all you have to do is say please with those pretty eyes and you get whatever you want hmmm?” he half-asked, keeping himself sheathed inside you.

“Yeah,” you agreed softly, making him chuckle. He kissed the small ring on your finger Kyle had bought you. The beta was just supposed to run to the store to get popcorn for movie night and ended up coming back with a ring that cost half a paycheck.

You wiggled your hips, taking it upon yourself to start pushing yourself back on him. He watched as you slowly found your own rhythm. He cursed softly, watching as your cunt swallowed him whole. He gave you soft encouragement, the grit in his voice making the tightness in your stomach swell.

“Can I?” you asked through a strangle moan. Even after all his teasing, you were still his obedient omega. His chest rumbled, causing the vibration to shoot straight through you.

“Course, sweetheart. You earned it,” he praised. That was all you needed, shaking around his cock with a breathy moan. He held your hips in place to keep you from running away, your spasming walls causing his eyes to roll back.

He had hardly a minute to catch his breath before you were pushing yourself back against him again.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he growled, immediately meeting your thrusts. He wrapped an arm around your waist, rolling over onto his back taking you with him. He forced your legs apart, your back against his chest as he drove his hips up into you. The new position hit something inside you that turned you into a purring ragdoll. “Purring from my cock?” he questioned through a groan like he couldn't quite believe it. His hands had a bruising grip on your thighs, the force of his thrusts nothing but mean.

There was swelling between his thighs, and even in his dazed state he could figure out what it was. You seemed to know too- at least instinctually, judging by the way you tried to push yourself down on it. “Think you can take my knot, pretty girl?” he asked softly, his pace beginning to slow so you could talk. You nodded your head eagerly, your face pressing against the side of this neck.

He resumed, his knot slamming against you with every thrust. You came unexpectedly, your cunt gushing around him and over the sheets. You were shaking in his grasp and he began rolling his knot into you, your slick making it a bit easier. Your hips tried to pull away, but he knew it was just from overstimulation. He matched your purrs, the action causing your body to relax enough for him to ease the rest of himself in. Your body stilled as the two of you locked together, John groaning breathlessly.

You could feel his heartbeat against your back, a warm buzz filtering throughout your body.

Your world slowly turned black.

Two days had come and gone. Today marks the fourth day of your heat.

Judging by your smell. Today is the last day. You were in the bathtub, the water too scalding for John’s enjoyment, but your sore body needed it. The alpha taking great pride in scrubbing and massaging you clean.

You hadn't been marked. John had come close numerous times, but was able to hold back. He couldn't do something that drastic without discussing it with you in length. Despite that, you had a large spot on your neck- where he planned to mark you. He couldn't stop running his thumb over it.

“Gonna be ready to see the boys?” He hummed, his fingers scratching against your scalp. You knew he was referring to Simon. Johnny and Kyle snuck in during the pockets of peace between rounds. Johnny to give you food and Kyle just to hold you.

You had missed Simon. When you were feeling extra sensitive just knowing he was outside the door made you feel a hundred times better. You nodded, as he washed the shampoo out of your hair.

“I miss him,” You smiled.

“Distance makes the heart grow fonder - especially with Simon,” he teased, making you giggle.

You put on fresh clothes, grabbing Vernie off the bed. The bed was in rough shape. John came up behind you.

“Don’t worry about that,” he insisted, pressing a kiss against the side of your head. The sheets had been shredded, the headboard practically crushed to bits and you could only imagine what it would look like under a black light. While you were only half of the reason it was in the condition it was, you still felt responsible.

“Go say hello to your boys. They miss you,” John smiled, throwing on a shirt. You beamed, practically bouncing down the hallway. They were still asleep sprawled out on the pull out couch in the living room to keep Simon company. You put Vernie down and she quickly stumbled her way over to Simon. You crawled over Kyle, curling yourself under his chin. He gasped awake, causing the others to jump.

“Still in one piece?” He mumbled, still playful even in his groggy state. He rolled over so you were under him- a position you had grown quite familiar with the past few days- resting his body on top of yours. You could hear Johnny mumble something, scrambling across Simon so he could get his paws on you. He growled as Kyle refused to move, worming his arm between the two of you and pulling you so you were smushed between them. “Can’t even get a minute?” Kyle huffed, burying his face in your hair.

“Her fault for being so pretty,” Johnny grumbled, placing the blame on you. His teeth nipping at the spots covering your neck from John. He swallowed back his disappointment at none of them being a claiming bite. The comfort of being between the betas again made it easy for you to start drifting back off to sleep. You had about five minutes of sleep when Kyle’s phone blared through the living room. You half expected him to deny it, like he usually did. Instead, he peaked at the Caller ID quickly making his way to the backyard, Simon following. You could sense Johnny’s uneasiness.

“Everything alright?” you hummed. The worst thing in your mind is that you would all have to leave and go back to base. You were due to go back in a few days, hopefully things could wait until then.

“Yeah, Bon,” Johnny assured, forcing himself to purr to relax you. “Nothin’ for you to worry about.”

Regardless you watched as John made his way down the hall about to turn into the living room, until he was ushered outside by Simon. You had the sinking feeling it wasn’t about work. Was it because of your heat? Because of how hot and cold it was? Because it didn’t last as long as it should’ve? Because you weren’t marked? Why didn’t he mark you? What if they were calling someone to come pick you up now? What if-

“None of that,” Johnny spoke, making you jump. He ran a hand over your stomach. You whined, rolling over so you could hide in his chest. “What happened?” he hummed, wrapping you up in the blankets. It smelled like your pack. Cinnamon and leather- with a gust of fresh breeze to cut the heaviness.

“It’s about me isn’t it?” You whispered. Johnny tensing was enough to confirm your suspicions. He should’ve known your omega intuition would uncover the truth before any of them were ready to share it.

“It's about work, peaches,” he stood his ground. He couldn't give up any information yet, till they knew the full story.

-outside-

“Hey, Laswell,” Kyle greeted with a sigh. To say he was nervous would be an understatement. He had always been a man of action- so being told to let someone else take the reigns was causing him distress.

“Well, I figured out who it belongs to,” She sighed, equally hard. Kyle and Simon looked at each other. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw John moving towards the living room.

“We need you out here,” he whispered. The alpha furrowed his brows, changing his course to the backyard.

“Her mother,” Laswell said finally. Kyle sucked in a breath through his teeth. John was confused but remained tight-lipped.

“She’s looking for her?” Kyle pressed.

“I don't see any signs of wanting to have contact with her,” Kate said sadly. “Just seems like she was trying to keep an eye out for her,” Kate suggested.

“Do you have her location?” Kyle questioned.

“Her last known location is Palm Springs, California. That was over two years ago and she's not living at that address anymore,” Kate continued. “She isn't registered anywhere else in the U.S. There's no death certificate either. Another thing is the type of chip she used. It lasts about 7-10 years before it gets broken down and absorbed into the bloodstream. It’s nearing the end of its life, that's why it disconnected,” Kate explained.

They felt relieved. You weren't being tracked by some psycho who had it out for you. It was just a last-ditch effort by your mom to be a part of your life.

“Thank you, Laswell,” Kyle breathed.

“Of course. Enjoy the rest of your vacation- oh and John make sure to ice your back. I know it’s sore,” She teased, the call ending. They chuckled dryly, waiting for someone to speak.

“Her mother chipped her before she left?” John clarified, causing them to nod their heads.

“How do we tell her?” Kyle asked.

“We don't,” John said quickly. The two men stared at their alpha. “What are we supposed to say? Your mother chipped you, but doesn't want to reconnect with you? She knows about how you've been thrown around from omega-holding house to omega-holding house, yet she has done nothing to stop it. She's our omega, it's our job to protect her from information like that. Besides, I'm not sure I want her mother around her anyway. Who’s to say she won’t break her heart again?”

No one could oppose. 

Hope you enjoyed this chapter!! See you in three days for Chapter 24🧡

[redflagshipwriter]

Red Hot Ghouls chapter 11 2/2

Masterpost

He leaned back a little.

There was a very strange silence. Jack’s face initially turned to fury, then a shocked contemplation. Jason waited it out and wondered if he was going to get in trouble for shooting a civilian in genuine self defense.

“Son.” Jack’s voice was grave. “You’re not Jeremy Waters, are you?”

It took a moment to parse through the immediate offense that this guy had busted his cover and to actually register the full name.

Oh, fuck. That Jeremy? The cult guy? Jason made a face involuntarily. “I am not,” he admitted. Oof. Fuck. Here it goes. “I lied because I wanted to be sure you would meet with me.”

“...Honey!” Jack shouted. He shot up in an alarmingly fast motion for such a big man. “Uh, change of plans! Why don’t you get what we all drink on movie nights?”

Something broke in the other room. “Oh, dear,” said Dr. Fenton. “Just a moment.” A vacuum started up. What the actual fuck was going on in there?

“You thought I was that creep?” Jason said blankly. “What were you going to do?” What sounded like a high pressure hose started up in the other room. He had to deliberately decide not to hunch his shoulders defensively. Jesus fucking christ. They were definitely mad scientists.

Jack Fenton looked shifty. “...Talk,” he tried.

Jason looked at the older man. He didn’t say anything. Jack gradually began to look sheepish but he didn’t break.

“Don't worry about it, honey,” Madeleine Fenton said. She set down three alarmingly green glasses and gave him a close-lipped smile.

Jason was very much going to worry about it. He looked between the two of them.

“Melon soda!” Jack Fenton cheered, obviously overreacting to get out of the conversation. He put both his hands up in the air and then grabbed at his glass. “Yummy! So good for growing young men, drink up.” He laughed awkwardly and then buried his face in his own drink.

Meanwhile, Dr. Madeline Fenton looked at him with catlike consideration. She clearly wanted to see him drink the soda.

He was pretty sure they'd been planning to get rid of Jeremy Waters, permanently. Mixed feelings on that, since Waters clearly sucked. He’d human trafficked Jason to the afterlife, after all. On the other hand, you can’t assume someone is chill when you know they want to kill someone. “No thank you,” he said to the melon soda, stomach a little queasy. Even if Jack was drinking it. And the glasses were identical.

“That’s fair,” Dr. Fenton said and sank into the couch cushion next to her husband. “So, you were interested in learning about the Ghost Zone and the afterlife?” She exchanged a meaningful look with her husband. “Any… particular reason?”

These people were intense when they goggled at a guy.

“Nothing I’m ready to talk about yet,” he evaded. It had the advantage of being true. He didn’t know how Jack made him yet.

They proceeded to have a somewhat tense conversation where the Fentons happily elaborated on all their current research and repeated, “I’m sorry, but we’ve withdrawn that work and won’t discuss it,” whenever he mentioned a publication from before 5 years ago. They’d even gone and gotten a lot of their stuff redacted. They talked and talked until Jason’s throat was hoarse. The Drs. Fenton were a brick wall on those topics that he couldn’t bust or wheedle past.

‘What does a person who posts about ghosts on their family blog think to redact?’ Jason wondered.

Eventually, Jack held up both hands. “It’s bothering me that you won’t drink anything,” he admitted. “Let’s go the Nasty!”

“Good idea, honey,” Dr. Fenton agreed. She stood and swung keys around her finger. “I’ll drive!”

Jack Fenton let out a dramatic “Awww, honey bunches,” and followed her around wheedling for a chance to get behind the wheel.

“No, we don’t want to scare our guest.” Dr. Fenton was immovable. A bit ominous as well.

Jason thought about pointing out that he hadn’t agreed to come with them, but he stood up anyways. It wasn’t like he could just sit on their couch and watch them leave their own house.

He had his first inkling of how badly he’d initially fucked up on that phone call when they got outside. Jack pulled the canvas off the family van with a flourish to reveal an absolutely horrific mural of Danny the ghost king giving gifts to humanity. There was text explaining his generosity, scrolling across the bottom of the van.

Jason stood stock still in horror.

The van gave off the same general impression as psychedelic howling wolf print art.

Jason put a hand over his mouth and tried to process it.

Danny’s white hair floated nobly across a few more feet than Jason was pretty sure it should. He was also kinda built in this painting compared to reality and he looked more… kingly. Not that Danny wasn’t in shape, but he was built more like Dr. Fenton than Jack Fenton, if that made sense.

Wait. Why’d he made that comparison? That should have been a frame of reference for Danny Fenton, not Danny the ghost king. …Was the ghost king basing his form off the Fenton’s kid?

“Come on, son!” Jack slapped him on the back. The force was enough to jar Jason forward and out of his dissociative state.

He moved numbly. ‘Alright, they like Danny king,’ Jason managed to think through the wound to his artistic soul. ‘I can be honest with them about the problem. They’ll want to help him get a spiritual separation from some sketchy guy who lied to them.’

They took him to a mid-tier burger restaurant with weird pretensions. The burge had both garlic aioli and shitty neon nacho cheese sauce on it. Jason picked at it for a while, disturbed and pleased by the unexpected combination.

They got back into their discussion. The next time a Fenton asked him a question, he cleared his throat and put down what was left of his burger. “I asked about Phantom because I’m in a little bit of trouble with him.”

It was weird to call him Phantom when he’d introduced himself as Danny. On the other hand, the Fentons also had a kid named Danny, so it was probably for the best.

Jack’s smile faltered. “What kind of trouble, sport?”

Jason shifted in his chair. “I uh. I may have gotten in Waters’ way. I didn’t know who he was,” he admitted. “Next thing I knew, I was in this green place?” He made a confused hand gesture. “Few minutes later, Phantom shows up, kinda pissy, asked if I did it on purpose, and then says that Waters basically.” He stopped to clear his throat. “Spiritually married us to each other.” His voice got a bit smaller than he meant it to.

That meant there was no audio competition for the loud crack when Madeline Fenton broke the table.

“Jesus fuck,” Jason said, looking at her with wide eyes. “Is your hand-”

She put her elbows on top of the tabletop that still existed and cupped her chin on her palms. “Tell me more.”

“You’re a handsome boy, aren’t you,” said Jack consideringly. “Maddie, honeybunches, d’you know, I was thinking about tracking down the Wishiewish ghostie again today. D’you think-”

“Oh, he should absolutely come with you,” Dr. Fenton agreed. She was beaming. It… did not feel villainous.

‘Why did telling them that make her less scary all of a sudden?’

“What do you like about Phantom? Do you think he’s cute? Was he nice to you?”

Maybe she was just a romantic.

[almostheav4n]

Tomorrow Never Came: Chapter 2

masterlist | ao3

pairing: joel miller x f!reader rating: 18+ warnings: unspecified age gap, hints at past SA, no break-out, no y/n, no reader description, discussion of past trauma, reader develops a reliance on him, hints at a ddlg relationship in terms of a caregiver x little relationship (reader is of legal age) word count: 3,693 summary: set in Texas in the 1980s, Joel picks you up on the side of the road when headed west, you embark upon a journey of self-discovery with the help of a seasoned man a/n: lots of fluff in this chapter before it gets real - Joel honestly doesn't seem like a guy who would rush anything so he gets a little push by the reader :p

“He looks like he works with his hands & smells like Marlboro reds…”

The morning light pierces through the flimsy motel curtain as you toss over on the mattress, stuffing your face into the pillows, as you blink away your grogginess. 

The sudden pounding at your door is enough to jolt you awake as you realize suddenly it’s Joel, springing up to sit on the bed before checking the time.

“Bout ready to head out?” His voice bellows from outside the door, slower and thicker from his own sleep. You can see the outline of him through the window and it makes you hyper-aware you haven’t washed up in the slightest, quickly giving yourself a smell as you lift your arms.  

It’s easy to tumble out of bed, tripping onto the floor, attempting to hurry as you stumble over the sheets, closer to the door, “Um, I um, just need a few minutes, maybe you can get breakfast or somethin’, I dunno, Ill be ready then…” 

You huff and puff trying to find your discarded clothes from the night, cursing yourself for not washing them the night before, smelling them, and finding it honestly quite fine, thank god. 

“No…” You can hear him thinking. “Ya need’ta eat, I’ll make myself busy, take your time,” He mumbles departing with two knuckle knocks on the door as you watch his figure disappear. 

You find yourself surprised by his reaction, half expecting him to get annoyed, maybe rush you at least. You wonder deep down if it’s a trick and you’ll find his truck gone. 

The truck remains there, however, spotting it in the lot after a good half hour of scrubbing your teeth clean and taking a hot shower to wipe away any grime left by sleep. 

You knock on the only door next to you, finding that Joel isn’t it. Eventually taking it upon yourself to find him. 

It’s not hard to spot him, dressed in fresh attire, forgetting he had planned on this trip & packed for it accordingly. His handheld luggage at his side while he talks to a woman, a young woman, probably around your age as they pass a cigarette between them. She laughs at something you can’t hear as she passes it back to him. 

You are quite well aware he doesn’t owe you anything, he doesn’t owe you any sense of loyalty, in fact, you feel in debt to him. But the rock in your belly sits hard as you come to understand he is a solid man, a good man. Women will want him, he’ll inevitably attract him and it’s stupid of you to feel jealous as he leans over to talk to her, wishing it was you.

Bitterness is ugly, sits on your tongue quite heavily though, makes your fingers flex as you cough, loudly, a bit too loudly, gaining both their attention as Joel’s back straightens up before turning to you, breathing the bit of smoke left from his nostrils. 

“Ready, darlin’?” He adjusts the luggage in his hand, walking over to take the bag in your hands, once used for the new shoes, now used for all your belongings that were shoved in your utility jacket pockets, feeling lighter for the first time in months.  

You happily allow him to, nodding up to him in approval as he tosses the girl a farewell before turning back to lead you to the truck, allowing for you to cut your eyes back at her. Watching as she returns a similar annoyed expression. 

He opens the door for you before getting in on his side and sliding the bags underneath the seats, starting up the truck with a quick motion. 

“Who’s the chick?” You hum, attempting to seem as nonchalant as possible, hoping not to come across any other way.  

“Not sure, wanted a smoke, only had one left,” He shrugs, pulling the vehicle out of the lot and onto the road with a few harsh bumps. 

You nod, twiddling your thumbs in a circle as you bite your lip back, calculating your response. 

“Jealous?” 

You don't expect it, your head shooting up to find his eyes already on you, a hidden grin where his hand that’s not on the wheel, scratches at his beard as he raises one brow, teasingly. 

“Joel, I’m not…..” You shake your head, unable to stop the tremble that knocks your words apart as you attempt to correct him, “I’m not jealous.” You lie. 

“Just teasin is all, don’t waste your time worryin’ now…” He chuckles, Texan accent flowing over like honey, focusing his gaze back on the road, leaving you breathless as you feel you didn’t state your case as clearly as you could've. Feeling found out. 

You remind yourself to quit the longing glances, that could've given you away. 

You don’t even realize you’re still staring at him, lost in your own thoughts but you think you almost miss it, the quirk of the corner of his mouth, a small tinge of redness coming to his face then settling, a blush. 

Eventually, he pulls into a lot of a diner. You’re seated quite quickly, in a booth towards the back, menus handed to you as Joel immediately orders a coffee, you stick with a hot chocolate watching Joel's brow raise at that. 

“You like sweets huh?”

“I do…” You nod, gaze focused on the menu before looking up to him, “think it’s cause I’m quite sweet too…”

He smiles a bit then, the first actual smile from him, a quick flash of the teeth before disappearing under his thick beard. 

“You are… sweet.” He agrees, calculating his words before focusing his attention on the menu, giving you little time to react to his comment. 

“Need you to get real food in your system, understand?” His eyes latch onto yours as you nod, desiring the least to see him upset by your actions. 

He sets his eyes back on the menu, “Good girl.” 

Good girl. 

It’s all you can focus on when the waitress returns to drop off drinks and take orders, the wheels in your head turning over the comment, good girl, good girl, good girl. 

It isn’t until Joel says your name, alerting you to look up apologetically, ordering a nice stack of pancakes, something you haven’t had in months, allowing her to take the menus. 

The hot chocolate presented stacks high with whipped cream, you scoop up a fluff of it in your index finger, bringing it to your mouth to suck gently, gaining the confidence to speak, “Joel?” 

His gaze is stern as he looks out the window, focused on some altercation outside between two men over god knows what, “Yeah?”

“You can kiss me ‘f ya want.” You bring the mug to your lips watching as his eyes cut to you, quickly, watching a gulp go down his throat, maintaining his hard exterior nonetheless. 

“That right?” His voice is softer than ever, as if he’s whispering a secret as you nod, taking a sip. 

You wondered all night if him putting you in another room was an act of kindness or if he maybe was gay or if he didn’t even necessarily view you as anything but platonic. But you want to make yourself clear. You want him to know of your blossoming feelings.

You set the mug down, feeling the whipped cream along your upper lip, tracing your tongue over the spot to remove it, watching as he sucks in a quick breath. 

He’s swift, moving from the booth. For a quick moment, you think you may have scared him off. Instead, he slides in next to you, your body pressed between him and the wall by the booth, his burly arm snaking around your waist to pull you close to his chest, as you release a soft quick gasp before his lips connect with yours, your hands holding to his chest to sturdy yourself as his warm mouth opens onto yours feeling his tongue slip into your mouth, velvety smooth. 

You moan, too loudly for the small diner as it's absorbed into his mouth, your eyes closing, allowing him to take the lead as his mouth moves against yours roughly and eagerly as if he hasn’t kissed someone in decades, completely at his will. 

It isn’t until the sound of plates scraping against the table gains both of your attention as he breaks away suddenly, leaving a whine to linger at your lips as he turns to the waitress who doesn’t seem to care one bit as Joel releases you. 

“I’ll be back, gon’ get some fresh air…” He mumbles before sliding out of the booth, running his hands through his hair before setting his hat on, walking towards the door, and soon exiting. 

It would worry you if you couldn’t see him, walking towards a payphone outside and making a call. 

You wonder what the hurry was but busy yourself with your pancakes, sopping them up in a ridiculous amount of syrup, before digging in. 

You eat slowly watching him argue with someone on the phone, his body language showing clear agitation as you sip your beverage. 

Eventually, he comes back soon after, apologizing, “Sorry, forgot to make a call earlier…” 

He sighs deeply, tearing into his eggs, the runny yolk bleeding onto the sausage on the plate. 

“What was that about?” You hum happily, content, patting your full belly. 

“Work.” 

“Sure it wasn’t your wife?” You test the waters, never noticing a ring but just in case, to be safe. 

“Ain’t got a wife,” he stuffs sausage into his mouth, “Think Im’a type of man to smooch on ya before headin’ home to my old lady?” 

“You’re older, Joel. Usually, men like you are married…” You tease, rubbing your foot along his leg under the table 

“I'm older huh?” He smirks a bit, raising his brow, bringing his coffee mug to his lips.  

“Yeah, you’re an old man Joel…” you lean over, resting your elbows on the table as your hands cup your face in admiration, your foot still knocking against his leg.  

“What do you do?” You question, desiring to know him fully. 

“Construction… just need to make calls every now’n then to make sure dumbasses don’t fuck up while I’m gone.” He clicks his mouth once more, annoyed it seems by the whole interaction on the phone. You decide to leave it alone

He eats quickly, quite loudly too. It makes you want to laugh, all his Southern charm replaced by a grumbling food monster when eating. 

He pays the check after finishing, mentioning the need to get you some clothes as the waitress brings by the change, he leaves a tip on the table. 

“You don’t like my clothes?” You gasp, fake offended, understanding what he means. 

To be fair you hadn’t shoplifted any clothes recently & the jeans that you wore now full of tears and rips matched the shirt that could give at any moment. 

“Ya know I can’t pay you back right?” You remind him, following him out as he holds the door open for you. 

“I am very well aware of that, sweetheart.” He chuckles lightly as if it’s the most obvious thing you’ve ever stated. 

You’re quick to turn to him though, in the middle of the lot, standing on your tiptoes to get the best angle as you press your lips to his once more, quickly, a peck, a little test of the boundaries to see his reaction. 

He returns it once you depart, his hand coming around the back of your neck, his mouth crashing onto yours, hot and hungry, before releasing, taking your hand in his warm and dry, leading you to the truck, following the same routine of scanning the lot, opening your door, before focusing on getting back on the road. 

The trip before Joel seems to come crashing down on you, the need for rest, the knowing that Joel is there that reassures your safety. 

Understanding you have true protection is enough to have you falling asleep in the seat until the jolt of the brakes has you blinking back the sun that has begun to slip below the horizon, realizing you slept through the day. 

“C'mon, sleeping beauty…” Joel jokes lightly, as your passenger's side door opens. 

You groan, too loudly and in an extremely un-lady like manner, stretching out your limbs as you smack open a yawn, clearing the sleep from your eyes. 

“Did I really sleep that long?” you murmur as Joel wraps his arm around your waist, hoisting you out with a surprised squeal as your feet connect with the pavement, a giggle spilling from your lips.  

“Sure did…” He helps to straighten you out, pulling your shirt down where it exposes your stomach slightly. 

You allow him, feeling pampered as he observes you to make sure you’re put together before giving you a hard nod, approving of his work. 

He takes your hand as you finally gain full consciousness, leading you into the building labeled ‘WAL MART’ 

Passing cars in the lot, you’re able to read ‘New Mexico’ on the license plates as you become aware you’re in a new state. Once in the shopping center, a buggy is presented as Joel turns to you, looking down at you with a familiar hard gaze, and for some reason, you come to understand when he’s wearing this look, he’s serious and means business. His eyes narrowing in and focusing as you know he needs you to listen as you look back up at him, blinking up at him as if he is the only thing that matters in the world. 

“You’re gonna go get some clothes and a bag to store 'em in, I need you to fill er up-” referencing the buggy, “I'll be ‘round, getting supplies alright?” 

He adjusts his pants, fidgeting on his belt as he looks around and then back to you. 

You nod, offering a little salute followed by a ‘yes sir’ and giggle before he presses a chaste kiss to your mouth, sending you on your way. 

You do indeed, fill’er up with an assortment of clothes, pajamas, bras, underwear, some shorts, skirts, jeans, and an arrangement of tops and you find a duffel bag that could surely hold it all. You also decide to shop for some feminine care items, sniffing at the different body & hair washes for far too long before finally making your way to find him. 

After looking down far too many aisles, you find him in the firearm section, talking to the worker who shows him a certain gun. You keep planted where you are, not wishing to interrupt, studying him, admiring him as he purchases it at the counter. 

You could've sworn he had one in the truck, saw it in passing. Maybe he just needs another you think, just in case.

“Starin ain’t too friendly baby doll...” He mutters taking control of the grocery cart before pushing it, sliding his basket on top filled with first aid and other basic necessities. 

“Just too handsome, can’t help it,” you apologize with a teasing shrug, looping your arm into his as you walk. 

He gives you a slight snort before you make it to the checkout stand. His hard hand pushes you back slightly out of the way so he can unload the cart. 

You busy yourself as you pick up a nearby magazine off a rack, the corny headline gaining your attention as you flip through it, only for Joel to snatch it from you. 

“Hey!” You whine, nose scrunching up in annoyance as he hands it to the cashier who scans it before he hands it back to you, nudging you out of the way a bit more as he throws the bagged items back into the cart. 

A certain freedom is found as you skip back to the truck, no worries or cares as Joel hollers at you to slow down, the sun now gone, making it easy for a car to hit you, you realize.  

You offer to help pack the bags into the back only for Joel to shoot you a disapproving look, that has you piling into the truck with a quickness. 

Eventually, you both are able to make it to a nearby motel. He tells you that you can stay in the car as he pulls up to the lobby of the motel. 

You decide against it, opening the door as the car barely rolls to a stop. 

“Hey now…” Joel warns, still in the vehicle as he sighs, stressed. Kinda makes your heart beat, his worried reaction. 

“You need to wait till I'm in park and I’ll open the door for you… you understand that?” He speaks seriously once he exits the vehicle, his eyes cutting down at you as his hands place on his hips, seemingly exhausted by your antics as you nod, moving closer to him as your feet scrape against the pavement. 

Your body collides against his chest as you lean up against him to kiss the scar on his nose before reaching up to grab his hat, setting it on your head instead. 

“I got it Joel, but how do I look?” You swiftly change the conversation as he folds his arms over his chest, veins prominent as he flexes lightly. 

“You’re as pretty as a peach in June, ‘f I say so myself, now c’mon…” He offers a small smile before reaching his hand out. 

You take it, sliding your own against it before taking your other hand to cover the other side of his, keeping a two-handed grip as he leads you into the lobby that plays 60’s music & holds an older dude at the front counter who reads a Playboy magazine. 

It takes Joel about a second to place you behind him, before walking up to the counter to greet the guy who speaks in grunts. 

“How many rooms yall need?” 

“One!” You squeak out, poking out from behind his back before Joel pushes you back behind him. 

“Alright, one room, two beds…” Joel mumbles, fishing into his pocket for his wallet as you pout. 

“Joel…” you grumble, fingers tracing along his brawny back. 

“You ain’t getting me into trouble tonight,” He whispers over his shoulder as you can’t help but break out into a smile. He’s old, probably too tired from the drive, you try to remember to tease him about just that. 

“What’d you want to eat?” He asks once you settle into the room, unpacking the Walmart bags, folding your new clothes neatly into the duffel, using the various pockets for other items picked up. 

“Not hungry…” You hum lightly, throwing some pajamas on the bed for post-shower wear. 

“Darlin’…” You know this tone, his stern one, a warning. 

“Joel…” You whine. “I’m used to eating corn nuts every two days, I gotta warm up to eating more food, but I promise I'll eat more.” 

You are quick to hurry to press a kiss to his lips where he stands by the door with arms crossed over his chest, an attempt to shut him up before making your way to the bathroom to turn on the shower, avoiding his disappointment. 

“Alright, I’ll be back real soon…” He hollers as you hear the door open and close. 

Your shower is one of the best ones you can remember. The water hot and the tub not as grimey as others you have come across, but the fact you can wash your hair and scrub every inch of yourself is refreshing. You wish for Joel to know how grateful you are. 

Eventually, you slink into your shorts and tank top made for sleeping, flicking on the television to some Western film, before painting your toenails with some red polish picked up earlier. 

Joel returns eventually, scolding you for not locking the door behind him as you blow onto your drying nails, apologizing before seeing that he brought back some greasy takeout. 

He kicks off his shoes aggressively, exhaustingly, placing some type of chicken nugget and fries on your bed as you roll your eyes slightly but no better than to challenge him, his hard stern telling you to “just eat”. 

You do eat it, dipping fries into ketchup, not wanting to refuse him of anything. Laying on your tummy to eat in silence, watching the film that Joel says is one of his favorites as he finishes his food fast and soon finds himself in the shower after the film ends. 

You try to stay awake to wish him goodnight, maybe get a goodnight kiss but sleep is heavy on you as you eventually wake up to pure darkness & the bedside clock glowing at 3:09 a.m. 

You can’t see him in the room, but you hear his deep snores as you remove yourself from your bed, realizing he must’ve tucked you in as you tear off the sheets. Soft footsteps lead you over to his bed, lifting the covers to slide in. 

You hope it won’t disturb him, you hope he’s comfortable with it as you wrap your arm around him, his back pressed to your chest as you kiss him there, once then twice. 

He stirs, a light sleeper you discover, grunting as he turns towards you, feeling his beard scrape against your cheek as you squeak, his warm lips connecting to yours, softly, sweetly. You sigh openly into the kiss as your tongue pushes against his, a groan whispering in his throat as you desire more. 

However, he’s quick to turn you over, pressing his chest to your back as your body curves to fit into his body, attempting not to pout at the loss of affection but grateful as you find yourself exhausted. 

It isn’t difficult to miss the hardness pressed against your bottom as he holds you tightly to him, it makes you coo as you move closer to one another, his face fitting into the crook of your neck as his breath there gives you butterflies & tickles your skin, your thighs clenching as you rest your hand over his on your stomach. 

“Night, Joel.” 

“Goodnight, sweet girl.” 

[arlana-likes-to-write]

You Look Happier

Part 4 of the Family, Pawns, and Sins of the Family

Summary: After every thing you've been though, it's time to move forward. While doing just that you run into a unlikely friend that looks past the scars you bare.

Warning: panic attack, mention of past abuse, suicidal thoughts, fluff, Kamala is a joy and I love her, small scene of a guy grabbing the reader, mention of nightmares, facing past abusers in court.

Word Count: 5.4k

Note: Ignore the fact that I said the next chapter of Second Chance will be posted today, I finished this one shot instead lol. Also, this will probably be the last part of this!

*

Healing was not linear. If this whole experience taught you one thing, it was that. Some days were good. They were great. You smiled and laughed without restraint. Those good days bleed into good weeks. Then, the darkness over your shoulder would rear its ugly head. All your hard work to overcome everything seemed pointless when you couldn’t leave your bed and your moms stayed by your side out of fear you would hurt yourself. There were close calls. The overwhelming urge sometimes became too much. You wanted to feel anything besides their hands on you.

Tonight was the end of a terrible day. You shut down after your therapy appointment. The mid-afternoon nap you took was ruined by a nightmare, and the court called, and they needed you to testify against Principal Cook. It was not your day. Still, you managed to pull yourself out of bed when the Avengers came over for a cookout. You sat at the fire pit with a marshmallow on the end of the stick. The flames engulfed the sticky treat and fell into the fire. Sighing, you blew out the flame and leaned back into the chair. You pulled the blanket to your chin and watched the get-together.

“Hey bug,” Natasha slid next to you. The chair was big enough for you two to sit comfortably without touching it, but you folded it against her. You buried your face in her shoulder and felt her hand draw shapes on your back. “How are you feeling?” Lying was never an option when they asked you this question. They would rather have the brutal, honest truth than a lie. It was a hard thing to overcome in the beginning.

“I’m,” Tired. Sad. Angry. “Struggling.” You sighed.

“Yeah,” Natasha kissed your forehead. “Today was a lot.” You nodded against her.

“Have you heard from the lawyers?” It was Natasha’s turn to sigh and kiss your forehead again.

“Not yet. They are talking with Cook’s defense team and hoping the man will take a plea deal.” You nodded and closed your eyes. The constant motion and her soft humming almost sent you to sleep. “Your mama and I have to go to the tower tomorrow. Is it okay to have your therapy session online?” The other thing was they refused to let you stay home alone on terrible days. It made sense. Through all of this, they wanted you to be safe.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “That’s fine.” There was no need to open your eyes because you knew there was a smile on her face.

“I love you, our firefly.”

“I love you too, mom.”

*

Today was better. Your therapist let you discuss your relationship with Wanda, Natasha, and the twins. It was a breath of fresh air to talk about something positive. The two Avengers were still in their meeting, so you waited for them on the common floor. It was half your fault. You were looking at your phone when a body slammed into you, causing you and your phone to fall to the ground. “Are you okay? Is your phone okay? Do you have a concussion?” You blinked at the girl with long brown hair and bright brown eyes. “Oh my god, I’ve concussed you.” She cried, placing her hands on top of her head.

“I’m not-wait. Who are you?”

“I’m Kamala Khan,” she offered you her hand, which you took to stand up.

“I’m-”

“Oh, I know who you are. Peter won’t stop talking about you. He says, You’re super cool.”

“I’m-” broken. Hurt. Sad. “Okay,” she laughed, and the sound erupted butterflies in your stomach. You noticed you were still holding her hand, and you dropped it suddenly. “Sorry,” you whispered. She smiled, picked up your phone, and looked it over.

“It’s not broken. I would have hated it if I gave you a concussion and broke your phone.” you were surprised by the laugh that you let out. It only made Kamala’s smile grow. “Here you go.”

“You should put your number in it,” a surge of confidence washed through you. Her eyebrows went up. “I mean, you did assault me. I think you owe me,” her mouth opened and closed like a fish. It was cute.

“I see why Peter likes you,” she said, handing you the phone so you could open it, and she quickly put her number on it. “I have to run-”

“Hopefully, not into someone again,” you said with a playful smile. She rolled her eyes.

“But I’ll see you again. Text me so I can have your number, too.” You waved bye as she ran off. Flopping onto the couch, you sent Kamala a simple hello with your name. For some reason, your cheeks were hurting from your smile.

*

You giggled at the funny meme Kamala sent you of Yelena and Kate that she made. You befriended the girl three days ago, and her goal seemed to make you smile. Even after a tough day at therapy, you were welcomed with messages from her that made it better. “Alright, enough,” your phone was ripped away from you. You gasped as you watched Yelena go through your phone. “You’ve been giggling all night. Who are you texting?”

“Mama, tell her to give me my phone back,” Wanda chuckled, standing over the stove to make dinner.

“Give her the phone back, Belova,” the witch laughed. “But I am curious who has got you smiling so much.” Yelena refused to give you the phone.

“First off, you’ve met Kamala,” she handed Wanda your phone. Instead of looking through it like the Black Widow, she returned it to you. “Second, I am going to kill her.” You smiled.

“We ran into each other at the tower,” you texted her, letting her know Yelena saw the memes she made. “Literally,” you mumbled. Every time you thought about how you met your new friend, you laughed. This was amplified when Kamala responded, saying you betrayed her trust.

“Hey,” Yelena snapped her fingers in front of your face. You jumped, not expecting it. “Your mama was talking to you.” The Blonde rolled her eyes and left the kitchen.

“Sorry,” you apologized. “What were you saying?” Wanda smiled with a shake of the head.

“I said dinner is almost ready. Can you go wash up and get your brothers?” You nodded and closed the book you were trying to read, but you were distracted by your phone. “And sweetheart,” you stopped to look at Wanda. “She’s making you smile a lot. Is there more going on?” You felt your body heat up.

“N-no,” you stuttered. “We are just friends,” Wanda smirked. “Mama, we are.”

“Okay, I’m just teasing,” you huffed and walked to your room. You dropped your textbooks and notebooks on your desk. Friends. That was all you and Kamala were. Nothing more. Right?

*

You were nervous as you stood outside Natasha’s home office. You could do this. You could do this. Knocking the door, you heard her voice on the other side telling you to come in. You entered and closed the door. “Hey bug, what -” she stopped mid-question. “Are you okay? You look like you are going to be sick.” Instead of answering, you walked to the front of her desk.

“Can I ask you something?” Natasha nodded, the worry evident on her face. “Can I go to the movies?” The Black Widow blinked at once, twice.

“Jesus, kid, you were about to give me a heart attack,” she let out a shaky breath and placed her hand on her chest for added effect. “Who would you be going with?”

“Uh Kamala,” you played with the fidget ring Yelena gave you after they saved you from Dmitri. “She and a few of her friends are in the city, and they invited me to see Detention Disaster with them.” It was a comedy. You looked at an in-depth review of it, so you knew nothing would trigger you.

“Are you sure? That’s a big step,” you knew what she meant. You rarely went anywhere besides the tower, the park down the street, and your brother’s school. Natasha and Wanda were with you even if you went somewhere outside your comfort zone.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, but you wouldn’t grow or heal if you stayed constant. “But I’d like to try.”

*

“That scene in the cafeteria was so funny,” Bruno said as he walked next to Nakia. “And it was shot so well,” Kamala chuckled and shook her head at her friend.

“Did you enjoy the movie?” She asked you. You were walking behind Bruno and Nakia.

“Yeah, it was funny.” Even after reading the very in-depth review, the movie still managed to make you laugh. Also, the comments Kamala and Bruno made to one another throughout the entire movie added another layer of comedy. They thought they were being quiet. Still, they walked no matter how often Nakia threw popcorn at them. You liked Kamala’s friends, who included you in their group.

“Hey, there is an arcade over here. Do you guys want to go?” Bruno asked. He stopped walking so you could catch up. The arcade was loud and unpredictable. There were too many things to account for.

“It’s up to you,” Kamala said. I can take you back home.” Home was safe and predictable—well, your brothers were not, but they knew your boundaries. But you shook your head.

“An arcade sounds fun,” you said. Today was good, and you wanted to keep hanging out with them. If they wanted to go to an arcade, then you would go no matter how much anxiety swirled in your stomach.

Luckily, it wasn’t busy. A small group of kids was at the basketball game, and some were looking at the prizes through the glass box. You bought a card with your tokens, and Kamala grabbed your hand to show you all her favorite games. You were worried that she thought you were clingy, but she kept a tight hold on you. Playing video games with your brothers helped you with some of the games. You beat Kamala on some of the two-player games.

It was fun, and you pretended you were a normal kid for a split second. No deep trauma that kept you awake at night. No scars that ached when it got cold. You were a kid having fun with her friends.

Until you walked alone as you decided on the next game, you needed a few more tickets and could get a new fidget toy. Suddenly, you felt a body crash against your back, and you stumbled forward. Your first thought of who it was was Kamala. For an Avenger, she was very clumsy. “Hey, watch where the fuck you are going,” you turned around to see a guy; he had to be 18.

“You ran into me,” you said. “You should listen to your advice.” You turned away, but he grabbed your arm and spun you back around. He pushed you against the arcade machine. The corner dug into your lower back, and you let out a pained yelp. Fear washed over you. His mouth was moving, but nothing he said mattered to you. It was happening again. Why? You felt frozen. The way his hands felt on you transported you to Jason, Conner, and Dmitri. Then, a new pair of hands were touching you.

“Hey, Y/n,” the voice said. “You’re safe. I need you to breathe for me.” Your chest felt tight, and it was impossible to get air into your lungs. “What do you need?”

“Hands,” you managed. “Get your hands off of me.” They were removed instantly, and you slid down to the ground, bringing your knees to your chest.

“You know you missed me kicking Bruno’s ass in basketball,” it was Kamala. Kamala was in front of you. “I mean, I was cheating, but don’t tell him that.” You managed a chuckle, which Kamala smiled. “Are you back with me?” You nodded, licking your dry lips. “Bruno and Nakia brought that guy to the manager, and he’s calling the police.” Again, you nodded. “Do you want me to call your parents?”

“No,” you finally spoke. The reality of the situation caught up with you, and embarrassment washed over you. You jumped to your feet. “Shit, sorry that was-”

“Whoa,” Kamala stood up slowly with her hand sup. “It’s okay. You did nothing wrong.” But you did, and if you just walked away from him, none of this would have happened. “No matter what happened, he should have never put his hands on you.” You nodded again. “Come on, let’s go somewhere more private.” She let you go to a small back room used for birthday parties. You were grateful she kept her hands to herself when she opened the door. You slumped in one of the chairs and placed your face in your hands. You heard Kamala sit in front of you. “Are you okay?” She finally asked. You sighed.

“I wanted today to be good and normal,” you said. “But it’s like one step forward and four steps back.”

“Isn’t that the point?” You removed your hands and looked at her. “Healing. Some days are better than others. It’s how it is,” she carefully took your hand, and you allowed her to. “And today was fun. I had fun hanging out with you.”

“I had fun, too,” you admitted. She smiled.

“These things will happen,” she continued. “And that is okay. There is nothing to be embarrassed about. I will be there to help you. If you want me to, at least,” she added quickly. You smiled.

“As long as I don’t scare you off.”

“You could never,” she spoke with so much confidence, and without hesitation, you almost believed her.

Delete Created with Sketch.

Today was a bad day. You had to go down to the courthouse to prepare for your testimony against Principal Cool. He wasn’t there, but you had to relive the whole ordeal. After that, Billy and Tommy begged to get ice cream. However, a man mistook you for someone else and grabbed you by the arm. The cherry on top was Kamala was on a mission with Carol. You missed the way she could make you smile and laugh.

It was past midnight. No matter how many times you tried to go to bed, every horrible thing flashed through your mind. Your phone buzzing caused you to jump, not expecting a phone call. Somehow, just seeing her name made you smile. It felt like your first genuine smile all day. “Hi,” you answered softly.

“Did I wake you up? I am so sorry. I can never figure out what time zone I’m in,” you giggled and rolled onto your back.

“No, I’ve been up. What are you doing calling me?” you asked. “I thought you said it was impossible to find cell service up there.” She was quiet, but you heard shuffling as if she was lying down.

“We usually can’t, but we found some. So Carol is calling Val, Monica is calling her mom, and I’m calling you.” Oh. That was a surprise.

“Why are you calling me?” She had her parents, brother, and her high school friends.

“Because I wanted to silly,” she answered. “Now, why can’t you sleep? Are you okay?”

“I’m,” Kamala knew bits and pieces of what happened to you. You strayed away from the more graphic details. It wasn’t easy to open up to your therapist. “I’m,” you sighed. “I miss you,” you admitted instead. Sometimes, it was easier to change the direction of the conversation.

“Awe, I miss you too,” you heard the smile in her voice. “I’ll be home soon, but you failed to answer my question.” you rolled your eyes.

“I’m tired,” you pushed the calm of your hand to your eye. And you were. You wanted to move past all of this and live a normal life.

“Get some sleep. I-shit. I’m sorry, I have to go. Carol needs me.” You were lucky she couldn’t see you, or she would have seen your frown. “Look, if you need anything, you call me, okay? I may not respond right away, but I’m here.” You nodded.

“Stay safe, superhero.”

“Always.”

*

Soft knocking woke you up. Slowly, you sat up and looked towards the sound. “Kamala,” you whispered. The girl was smiling on the other side of your window. You climbed over to it and opened it. “What are you doing?” She smiled.

“To see you. Can I come in? It’s cold,” you stepped out of the way, and she crawled through the window. It was a little clumsy. Her foot got caught on the window ledge. A small yelp, and she rolled off your bed and onto the floor. You cringed at the sound and were grateful that your room was on the first floor. Soon, your room was filled with laughter.

“Are you okay?” You closed the window. Kamala nodded and rubbed the back of her head.

“My pride took a hit,” you giggled and helped her. “Hi,” she smiled and sat down on your bed.

“What are you doing? Aren’t you supposed to be in space?”

“Well,” she took off her shoes. “The mission is almost over, and Carol doesn’t need me, so she said I could go home.” You raised her eyebrows at her.

“The last time I checked, this isn’t your house,” she said, looking around the room with a confused expression.

“You know, I thought my room looked a little different. There are not enough Captain Marvel posters,” you rolled your eyes. Besides, Carol may not need me, but you do,” you looked at the ground. Kamala placed her arm around your shoulders. That’s okay, you know that? It’s okay to need people.” You shrugged.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” you whispered. “You are an Avenger. You have more important things to worry about than someone as broken as me.” Kamala removed her arm and forced you to sit more on the bed. You crossed your legs to give her more room. She grabbed your hands.

“You are not broken. You are healing. That is a big difference. Soon, all these scars will heal,” you stared at your connected hands.

“What if whatever they broke inside me can never be fixed?” Kamala was quiet. She moved your hands so your palms were facing up. Her fingers were arms as she traced the lines on your hand.

“Then you learn to live without those parts,” she bite her lip. “When I discovered the true nature of my abilities, the old me was gone. I had to embrace the person I am now. It’s scary, terrifying really, but you have your family to help you,” she squeezes your hands. “You have me.” You looked at her, and she had a soft smile.

“Can you stay the night?” You whispered.

“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere,” you stood up to get some clothes to change into. Once she was ready for bed, you climbed under the covers with her next to you. “For what it’s worth,” she broke the silence. “I think you are pretty great.” You bent your arm to rest your head on your hand. She was lying on her back.

“You think I’m pretty, superhero,” she rolled her eyes and mirrored the way you were laying.

“What if I did?” You raised your eyebrows in question. “I think you are pretty.”

“Oh,” you squeaked and cringed at the nose that escaped. “Scars and all?” You questioned.

“They are kind of badass,” she said. “Makes you all hot with the ladies.” She wiggled her eyebrows. You chuckled and pushed the girl on her shoulder. She fell onto her back.

“You are such a flirt.” You said.

“Just for you, khobsurat,” you titled your head at the foreign word. “It’s Urdu.”

“What does it mean?” You questioned. Kamala faced you.

“Beautiful.”

“I don’t know how to do this,” you admitted. You were never in a normal relationship. Everyone wanted something from you. Everyone tried to hurt you. “I’ve been hurt by so many people that promised not to.” Your biological parents used you to get money. Jason promised to love you. Principal Cook and Coach Griffo were hired to protect students. They all hurt you.

“I can’t promise I won’t mess things up because I’m an idiot,” you smiled. “I can be aggressively passionate, overwhelming, and loud, but I will never hurt you like they hurt you.” You nodded, looking down at the shapes on your blanket. “You don’t believe me.” You wanted to. You tried to jump head first, but you weren’t sure if your heart could handle any more heartbreak. It was already bruised, bandaged, and broken.

“I want to. It’s just-”

“Hard?” Kamala guessed. You nodded. “That’s okay. I’m not going anywhere,” she yawned, covering her mouth. “Sorry, that was rude.”

“Get some sleep. It’s been a long day.” She nodded and closed her eyes.

“Night, khobsurat,” she whispered. Was it weird that you watched her fall asleep? Maybe. But you liked how peaceful she looked. You weren’t sure when the last peaceful night of sleep you had. You were a little jealous. Sighing, you turned to your side and hoped for a nightmare-free sleep.

*

The sound of thundering footsteps woke you up. It was your only warning before your door opened, the force almost falling off the handles. “Breakfast - hey, what are you doing here, Kamala?” You heard the girl behind you groan. Sometime in the middle of the night, you gravitated towards each other. Her arm is secured around your waist. It wasn’t an uncomfortable position. You only allowed your parents and sometimes your brothers to cuddle you.

“Not sleeping,” she mumbled. Her breath caused goosebumps on your skin. That was uncomfortable. Your mind flashed back to every time someone held you down, breathing against your neck. You tensed up. “Hey, are you okay?” You shook your head.

“Mom!” Billy yelled. “Y/n has a friend over that she didn’t ask permission ,and she’s having a panic attack.”

“Billy,” you hissed, but your brother ran off. Kamala removed her arm and created some healthy distance between you and her. You needed some space, not your brother getting Natasha and announcing you were having a panic attack, which you weren’t. Now, the hurried footsteps were from the Black Widow.

“Is she going to kill me?” You heard Kamala whisper as Natasha slowed down. That was a great question you weren’t 100% sure about.

“Kamala, what the hell are you doing here?” She asked. “Aren’t you supposed to be in space?”

“Well, you see, Mrs. Romanoff,” Kamala said slowly. “I requested to leave my mission early because she seemed upset.” Your head whipped around to look at her.

“You told me your mission was almost over, and Carol didn’t need you anyone.” Her eyes widened, frantically looking between you and the Russian.

“I did say that, didn’t I? It was a white lie,” she said. “I knew if I told you the truth, you would make me go back, and you sounded so sad on the phone,” she held up her hands, almost to defend herself. “Carol knows the truth, and she approved it. I couldn’t lie to her,” she pointed to Natasha. “She scares me more than you,” she whispered. Her comment made you laugh, but you were still angry at her even though her heart was in the right place. Natasha scuffed.

“I scare you now. Is that so?” You looked at your mom. Her arms were crossed, and she was leaning against the doorway.

“No, ma’am, Mrs. Black Widow, sir.” You laughed so hard that you snorted, which sent Kamala into a fit of laughter. Natasha had a soft smile on her face.

“Breakfast is ready, girls. Come on,”

“Thanks, Mom,” the Black Widow nodded and walked back towards the direction of the kitchen, not bothering to close the door. Kamala let out a shaky breath and slumped back into the mattress. “I can’t believe you lied to me.” You pinched her side, and the girl yelped.

“It was for a good reason,” you rolled your eyes. “Are you telling me if I told you the truth, you’d let me stay?” There was no good reason you had. “Exactly,” she pinched your side back. “How did you sleep?” She sat up and stretched her arms above her head.

“Good, actually,” your mind was blank; no nightmare woke you up.

“Good,” she climbed out of the bed. “Come on. I’m hungry. Your superhero needs food,” she rubbed her stomach.

“My superhero?” She winked at you.

“I like the sound of that,” she teased and grabbed your hand. You were a little stunned, but you led her to the kitchen, where the rest of your family was. My superhero, you liked the sound of it, too.

*

“I’d like to call Y/n Romanoff-Maximoff as my first witness to the stand,” the prosecutor said your name, and your stomach still dropped. This moment was what you were preparing weeks for. All you had to do was take the stand, tell the truth, and be free. Easy minus facing Principal Cook and the side full of his supporters. But you weren’t alone either. Every Avenger that was not on a mission seemed to be there; even the Bartons made the trip to the city. Still, you felt frozen in your seat. Until you felt a hand on your shoulder squeeze it.

“We are right here, bug,” Natasha whispered. “Eyes on us the entire time.” You nodded and forced yourself to stand up. The prosecutor smiled at you as you passed her and headed for the witness stand. You tried to keep your eyes on your section. Even when the Bible was brought over to you so you could swear the truth and nothing but the truth. But you were curious, so your eyes flickered to his defense team. His lawyer was whispering to him, but Cook was watching you. The man smiled and gave you a little wave. You looked away immediately, eyes scanning your section until you found Kamala. She smiled, and the weight on your chest disappeared. You let out a shaky breath. You could do this. You could do this.

*

“I am so proud of you,” Wanda said for what felt like the 10th time once the trial ended. Her arms were wrapped tightly around you.

“Alright, darling,” Natasha smiled. “Don’t hog her. She’s got other people to thank for coming.” With a sigh, she let you go. You made your way around the large group right outside the courthouse. You thanked everyone for their support and tried to ignore the press taking your picture. Kamala was the last person you went up to. Immediately, you slumped into her arms.

“Hi,” she whispered. “Are you ready to go home?” You nodded against her. She took your hand and led you to your parent’s car. There was no need to say goodbye as everyone was invited to the house for a small party. It was your one request to do after the trial. You wanted everyone close by for a gentle reminder you weren’t alone.

Once again, you found yourself at the fire pit as you watched the party. Kamala sat down next to you and handed you a plate of food. “Are your parents enjoying themselves?” You saw them talking with Natasha and Wanda. They weren’t at the trail; they stayed at the house to set everything up.

“They are. I hope you are ready to hear many stories of when I was a baby,” you smiled and took a bite of your hamburger. “You know Yelena gave me the shovel talk,” your eyes widened. You knew when the Blonde found out you were dating Kamala; it was only a matter of time before the ‘talk’ happened. “It was nothing bad. She did not threaten bodily harm,” you laughed, a little surprised, and sipped your water. “She did make me promise something.”

“Are you going to tell me what that promise was?” Yelena was with the Bartons. Nate was handing on her back with his arms around her neck. She caught you staring and winked at you.

“She told me this has been the happiest she’s seen you,” you looked at the girl next to you. She was looking forward, but you saw her eyes flick to you. It wasn’t the first time you heard that statement. You look happier. Everyone said it in their way. “Is that true? Do you feel happier?” It was a complicated question because there were days you were on cloud nine. Others felt it impossible to move forward. But she made it better.

“Yeah, I am,” you admitted. “So, what promise did you make to her?” She took her free hand in yours.

“Just to keep you happy,” she kissed your cheek. “And you know how much I love making you smile.” You rolled your eyes and felt your body warm up.

“Hey, lovebirds,” you heard Kate yell. “I think you should cool off.” You gasped as the cool water drenched you and Kamala. You ignored Kamala’s laughter and looked at who was responsible: your brother, the Bartons, and Peter.

“Tommy, Billy, I’m going to kill you.”

“Awe, why?” Tommy whined. “It wasn’t just us.” That was true, but you had a free pass to bully them.

“Besides, it was mom’s idea,” your head snapped to look at the Black Widow, who was now with her sister and Laura. She was smirking at you. You narrowed your eyes at her.

“Give me your water gun,” you said to Billy. Your brother looked at you, then Natasha.

“I’ll speak kindly at your funeral, soldier,” he saluted you and handed you the water gun. You placed your now ruined food on Kamala’s plate.

“Khobsurat,” she stood up and grabbed your hand. “Are you sure about this? You have a lot of life to live.”

“Oh my god, guys,” you laughed. “I’ll be fine.” Well, you hopped anyway. Besides, you knew Wanda wouldn’t let anything happen to you. You were secretly her favorite. You pumped the water gun and looked at the Black Widow. She shook her head and mouthed ‘no.’ You winked at her and used your powers to turn invisible. Since the Avengers saved you from Dmitri, you rarely used your powers. Besides the occasional training session Natasha and Wanda put you through. You were grateful for that; what they taught you kept you alive. It felt good to use your powers for fun.

You watched the Black Widow walk over to Wanda and wrap her arms around her waist. She was talking with Maria and Sam. Clever or suicide to use the witch as a shield, but it would not stop you. Carefully, you walked closer to them. “What are you doing, sweetheart?” Wanda asked. Natasha placed her head on her shoulder.

“Can I not love on my beautiful wife?” The witch narrowed her eyes at her.

“Who did you piss off?” You slapped your hand over your mouth to stop the sound of your laughter. Wanda glanced around the yard. “Get off of me.” But Natasha held onto her tighter. “Natalia Alianovna Romanova, I will not be your shield because you messed with our enhanced daughter.” Sam laughed, throwing his head back.

“You got your full government name,” he teased. You are in the dog house.” The Black Widow pouted, but her arms remained locked around Wanda.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ Wanda’s voice echoed in your head. Usually, it would scare you. Now, it was a calming presence when you felt her magic enter your mind.

‘Sorry, mama,’ You appeared behind Natasha and unleashed your water onto her back. Natasha gasped and moved Wanda to take some of it. You stopped immediately but still got her wet. You cringed. “That was not my fault,” you said. The witch sighed.

“I know,” Red Magic took the water gun out of your hands. “Run Romanoff.” The Black Widow’s eyes were filled with fear, and you laughed as she took off towards Tommy, who threw his water gun at her. Yes, you were happier—all thanks to them.

[hyuny-bunny]

cybersex | camgirl! x skz

chapter I • chapter III

MDNI (18+): this series will depict sex work and acts of sex. content warnings will include the following for this chapter: mention of masturbation, oral (m rec), alcohol, p in v (no condom / reader on birth control), cum, creampie/breeding, use of pet names (good boy/puppy), threesome, afab reader

genre: skz x camgirl!reader, use of she/her/hers

wc: 3.5K

Chapter 2

You had stopped by to see Sana at the restaurant tonight while she was having her break. Since you didn’t have an official breakroom, most of the staff would sit in the storage room. You had come in from the alley through the exit and sat chatting away in the storage room. It was far from ideal but the room was quite big, there were tucked away corners stacked with crates no one used that doubled as your chairs. As you caught Sana up on all the moving festivities and the cute downstairs neighbor who always seemed to be heading out as you were coming in, someone walked into the room. You both fell quiet hearing two familiar voices.

“Do you really think it’s her?”

“All the dots connect back to her. Look, she’s been moving into that place all week and it just so conveniently happens to be that KitsuneKitty has been on a break?” You clocked in on Jeongin’s voice, Sana is about to speak but you’re quick to cover her mouth.

“Dude-”

“Hear me out, who else would Sana bring on to her stream? We know what her girlfriend looks like from the other streams. It’d only make sense considering that Sana and Y/N were living up until this last week. Then, after she came on the first stream, she filmed from the same room, two more times after that stream, before doing it in another spot. Besides, do you really think she makes enough here? To live in that apartment all alone?”

“You’re kinda creeping me out with how closely you pay attention to detail.” You hear Seungmin say as they shuffle around in their spot. They were talking about you not even realizing you were there listening to everything. 

“And you should pay attention more. Then, just the other day, I saw a box in the lobby on my way out addressed to her,” Jeongin is abruptly cut off by Seungmin.

“Please tell me you didn’t open her package.”

“OF COURSE NOT… I looked up the return address and it was to a sex store online.” You kick a bag of flour in the corner on accident. They stop talking for a moment trying to see if anyone else is in the storage room. Sana is frozen as a statue, she doesn't dare to take a breath. 

“Look, I’m not saying it isnt her… but what does it good does it do us to know if it is her? What’re you gonna say? ‘Hey, I wank it to you almost every night, big fan of your work’? You can’t even look her in the eye as it is, could you look her in the eyes if she knew how much you-” It was Seungmins turn to be cut off

“Oh don’t act like you’re above it! Your walls are a lot thinner than you think. I don’t know what I’d do though… Probably beg her to use me for her own pleasure.” The conversation comes to an abrupt stop when you hear the storage room door swing open. This time it’s  Minho’s voice that booms in. 

“I have plates getting cold, can you two stop fucking around and run them?” 

“Sorry, Jeongin wanted to discuss his revelations about your little minx. He’s getting too antsy for that surprise stream.” Seungmin slaps the back of Jeongins shirt as he pushes him out of the storage room. The room is silent once more with only the faint sound of Minho talking.

You turn to Sana to find that her eyes have gone as wide as yours. Your head is whirling with thoughts, all consumed by the reality that they knew. It didn’t scare you though, it only added to your excitement. Oh, tonight’s surprise might’ve been spoiled as you had planned a face reveal but another idea had come to mind. Instead, you toyed with the idea of what Jeongin had said. You pull out your phone to text the two of them.

“What’re you doing? Are you okay? I’m so sorry I should have never told those two idiots about my stream I just didn’t even think they were sober enough to remember let alone watch.” Sana asked worriedly, there’s a fear inside of her bubbling over, that she would be the reason you felt violated.

“This isn’t your fault! I’m fine really, I don’t mind at all. I’m a little surprised I guess but I knew the risk I was taking. Besides, I’m a little surprised that they would even begin to pay that much attention.” You say grabbing Sana by both arms to reassure her that you are more than okay. There was nothing to be upset about truthfully, you were flattered that they watched your streams. “Now, I think I owe my little detectives a surprise for figuring it out.

You: hey! do you two want to come by my place for some drinks tonight? i have a surprise for you both :3

Jeongin: sure! we’re both working rn but i’ll pick something up on the way :) 

Seung: sweeeet, whats the surprise?

You: it’s nothing really but its really something you’ll love!

They took the bait so easily it was almost comical, Sana was leaning over your shoulder watching your texts. 

“Oh you are a little minx, aren’t you? I think Mina and I will have to watch this tonight.”

—

You had set the room up for tonight's show, this room had been your best surprise yet. The windows were covered by white floor-to-ceiling drapes, tied with black ribbon and embroidered with delicate flowers. You had left the hardwood exposed, opting for a white fur throw rug in place moving it in or out of the way depending on the occasion. The bed was centered in the room, it was covered by silk pink sheets, a lacey pink comforter, white throw blankets, and an assortment of pillows in all shapes and sizes. The room was dimly with your led light bulbs, offering a soft pink glow to the room, it seemed like a sweet and coquettish room aside from the bookshelf lined with vibrators, dildos, and other assorted sex toys. 

You had prepped yourself like you normally had for these streams, the makeup was always fairly simple. A smooth base with glowy skin, the perfect shade of blush that made you look flushed, an eye shadow look that held more emphasis on the strategically placed shimmers that captured like diamonds with light reflections, and the mauve shade of lipstain that made your lips look pouty and bitten. You put on a matching black two-piece set under your inconspicuous outfit consisting of a grey sweater and black shorts that were a tighter fit, topped with a pair of black over-the-knee socks. The stream was set to start at 11 pm and your boys had arrived at 10 pm on the dot.

You opened the door with a gleeful smile, welcoming them in. They both wore t-shirts with sweats, and both had a cologne that wafted in the room. While you had never felt any crushing feelings for the two of them, there was no denying how cute they were. They were cute in the way that gets a girl giddy when she sees her waiter is this hot and their sweet mannerisms just added to the effect. You asked them how their day was as you pulled out some snacks for the beer they had brought over. You all sat on the floor surrounding the coffee table, the buzz slowly crept up on you.

“Mm so what was our surprise?” Seungmin asked as he took a sip of his drink. Jeongin had been frequently checking his phone, it was almost time. You had decided that now was as good of a time as any. There was still about 10 minutes from the countdown, that left the perfect amount of time to see if your plan would go as you wanted.

“You sure you want it now? Jeongin seems a little antsy, are you sure you want the surprise right now?” You smile to the both of them letting your eye contact linger on Jeongin a little longer, his lip bitten by his teeth.

‘Oh uh, um, yeah sorry I just was, uh, waiting for something.” He says before locking his phone once more and setting it down on the coffee table. You wink at him before telling them to follow you to the surprise, not missing the way Seungmin cocks a brow in surprise, and Jeongin’s cheeks flush pink. You walk down the hall to the two of them in toe, before you reach the door, you look up to the two of them with a warning. 

“You can refuse your surprise if you want, it’s no fun if you don’t want it got it?” They both shake their heads quickly like puppies before sparing a glance to each other. You open the door instructing them to sit in front of the screen, once the door is closed behind you, there's an internal flip switch for you.

 “I was thinking long and hard about what you said, and really, it warms my heart to know you two watch me to get off.” The tops of their cheeks are burning as they sit cross-legged staring at you sink to your knees, crawling over to them on all fours before stopping between the two of them. 

“And I thought that there was no better to reward you two for being so supportive of me then to return the favor? Hmm? I mean hearing you say you’d let me use Jeongin, got me so wet I had to come straight home and touch myself to the thought.” You notice the strain in their pants is growing, you feel yourself getting hotter when you lean forward resting your hands on the tops of their thighs. 

“You’ll let me use tonight, right, Jeongin? You’ve been such a good boy waiting for my return, you want to make me happy mm?” You say rubbing your hand up his thigh to where you can see the outline of his cock imprinting his sweats, he nods yes and whimpers when you brush your hands just across his boner. “Poor baby, can’t even use your words and I haven’t even started. I need to hear you say yes.”

“Y-yes, p-please.” You pull him into a kiss by his shirt muttering good boy and letting him lean back. You turn to Seungmin, his eyes are blown out staring at the hand resting on his thigh. You pick his chin up to make him look you in the eyes. His big brown puppy eyes stare at you, if it wasn’t for the waiting audience of viewers you would’ve pounced on the two of them already.

“You too puppy? I can’t touch you unless you say you want me to.”

“Yes.” Seungmin says almost above a whisper. You lean forward planting a sweet kiss on his lips as well. 

You swiftly stand up stripping yourself of the shorts and sweater, reaching for your mask before pressing the button to begin the stream. The chat is pouring with comments about where you’ve been, the new set up and most importantly your two guests. You giggle at some of the comments that already begging them to strip.

“You’re all gonna have to be warm and welcoming to my two guests okay? They’ve been some long-time supporters of mine and I have to show my gratitude in so my way right?” You say taking notice of the two boys palming themselves from the monitor. “Can my puppies strip for me?”

Any thoughts the two of them have ever shared are out the window, they both are pulling their shirts off, ridding themselves of all clothes til they're down to their underwear. You instruct them both to stay standing up, you look back at the monitor catching a glimpse of what everyone else was watching. You bite your lip looking at the monitor rubbing their hard on’s over their underwear, while stroking Seungmin, you pull Jeongin in close to you, reaching up to grab the waistband of his underwear with your teeth pulling them down just until hit his knees. His thighs shiver and the feeling of your mouth so close to where he needed it. He kept his arms and hands behind his back unsure of what to do with them, he stepped out of the underwear where you returned to Seungmin to do the same. They’re both much bigger than you expected which only sends a rush of wetness into the spot in your panties that's already soaking through. 

You take Seungmin into your mouth looking up at him, he’s looking down at you with his jaw slack and moans slipping past his lips while you take as much of him into your mouth. You feels so warm and wet around him, he cant help the way his cock twitches when you moan so heavily around his cock. He forces himself to keep his hands at his sides while you work your mouth on him but the idea of taking a fistful of your and rutting himself into your mouth is tantalizing. Jeongin watches in awe looking up at his roommate's fucked expression, he waits like the good boy he is. Your hand still stroking him, his tip angry pink with drops of precum beading at the tip. The movement of your mouth against Seungmin gets sloppier as you leave your spit and saliva covered all over his cock, you feel him getting closer to cumming with the way he twitches in your mouth. You pull off him and he whines out at the loss, his cock twitching while you keep pumping ever so slowly.

“Such good boys aren’t they? Do we think they should cum yet?” You say while moving to Jeongin to bring him into your mouth next, he almost cums when your tongue makes contact. There’s a large donation thats sent to you that reads off a message

$1000 donation from hyjnny “let the one in your mouth fuck you doggy since he’s such a good dog”

You let him out of your mouth with a pop and smile looking back at the camera, thanking the donor. Your legs feel weak at the thought of letting Jeongin take you from behind. You continue to make sloppy wet noises against his cock, taking him as far down your throat before gagging and going back in once more. He watches with eyes wide, it feels like a dream to watch you take him down your throat. He was always shy with his size, too many of his partners complained that it wasn’t pleasurable so the idea of not only being so far down your throat but to fuck you in front of the thousands of people watching wanted to make him cry cumming.

Seungmin is starting to thrust into your hand as most of your focus is on Jeongin fitting in your mouth. He’s erratically fucking into the makeshift hole that is your hand, letting some of his own spit dribble out. You finally pull off Jeongin, and a line spit connecting your mouth to his cock stays between you two. You instruct them to kneel now once more in front of the camera, you align them to face each other with you in between, you lean into kiss Seugmin and place Jeongins hands on your tits. They’re both squishing you between them, Jeongin focused on groping your tits and ridding you of your bra. Seungmin’s hand dives to firmly grip your neck in his hand while Jeongin humps you over your underwear from behind. The room fills with the sound of wet kisses and breathy moans. You pull Seunmin off your mouth and pull your panties off to leave you in nothing but your socks. Another donation pings,

$500 donation from 97ddynahc “suck the brunette off while the other fucks you from behind, let them both breed your holes” 

Your pussy dripped with the need for the two of them, to take them both at the same time was going to take a lot to not orgasm at the first movement. You let Jeongin guide your hips in place, his tip swiping at your entrance and nudging your clit sending a chill through you and a gasp. 

“Let me know if it’s too much okay? I know I’m on the bigger side and its uncomfortable for some people,” Jeongin says in small voice, hes terrified of hurting.”

“I promise, puppy.” Every time you called them ‘good boy’ or ‘puppy’ it only made Jeongin want to fuck the sweetness out of you until you could only beg. He slides in letting you adjust to him before moving. He fills you up, you feel every inch and ridge inside of you as he rocks his hips back in forth. You thighs shake wanting to just squirt all over his cock in that moment.

“Jeongin, ah, please.. Go harder please,” Your whimpers sound like music to them, it doesn’t take long for him to pick up the pace, slamming his hips down into you while Seungmin grabs your face to do the same. Seungmin takes hold of your head, creating a makeshift ponytail as he begins fucking your mouth, he’s big. He hits the back of your throat with every thrust, the motion of the two of you only forces you to take Seungmin even further down your throat.

Jeongin can't help himself, he’s so entrapped with the way your ass moves with every slam of his hips. He adjusts your hips to pick up more speed and hits that spongey spot inside you, the new angle causes you to moan vibrating against Seungmins cock. It felt so dirty to be used the way you were at this very moment but it only made you clench around Jeongins cock. They both are panting and grunting with every thrust, skin slapping against skin. You feel your orgasm approaching quickly and hard. The build-up in your stomach has you clenching harder than before causing Jeongin to thrust deeper, he slows down and grips your hips fully pulling you into him. Burying his cock deep in your pussy he lets go of everything, he whines loudly and shakily, and you wonder if the neighbors can hear him. He doesn't stop thrusting knowing you're close. Seungmin pulls off you and starts stroking himself to allow himself to cum on your face and chest. Your mouth hangs open while he shoots his warm white cum all over your face and chest letting whatever you catch in your mouth, swallow back. Jeongin continues thrusting grabbing your arms to hold them behind and Seungmin reaches under you to circle your clit as you cry out, squirting all over the two of them. You both stay still, trying to catch your breathe. You look up at the monitor, your mask sloppily misaligned and the other two boys are about to pass out. You wave goodbye and say your thank yous turning the stream off. 

You crawl over to the bed reaching for your robe, trying to grip the bed to stand up but your legs give out. Jeongin stands up somewhat stable, lifting you up into his arms with is arms wrapped around your waist.

“ I have water in the shower for us, theres some.. water bottles in there.” You say tired as Jeongin sits you on the love seat in the corner. Seungmin is grabbing a towel from the dresser to layover the mess covering the floors.

Jeongin remerges with water in hand. Your throat is sore but you feel like your on cloud 9. No one says a word while you drink the water down.

“So uh… How was it?” You ask to break the silence.

“Better then I ever could have dreamed of. Would you… want to maybe do it again?” Seungmin is the first to speak, you feel yourself blushing. It felt so silly to blush after you just let them cum in/on you.

“ Oh uh.. Definetely… I don’t know about a threesome again. That was a lot of cardio for me” You giggle at the last part. Jeongin laughs, it was one he does when he was a little shy about compliments.

“Sorry for cumming in you, I wasn’t sure if i should but can I get you a Plan B or um,” Jeongin asks but you shake your head laughing.

“No worries here, I’m on the pill. Do you guys mind keeping this between us? I just wouldn’t want anyone at work to know if that’s okay?” You ask.

“Worried about Minho? Don’t worry he’s hopelessly in love with you but this stays between us… and maybe everyone who watched but who cares about those one’s.” Seungmin says reassuring you. 

You walk the two of them to the door and say your goodnights, you settle away in bed after a nice long bath, trying to relax any possibility of sore muscles. You’re drifting to sleep when you get a message.

hyjnny: hey babe, loved your live tonight. If you ever want to collaborate sometime let me know, think we might be pretty close. Check my page out, i think you’ll like what you see. Here’s my number if you want to meet up sometime xxx-xxx-xxxx

----

a/n: feeling a little rusty but i hope you all love this chapter, look forward the next one ;)

taglist (7/30): @skzooluvr @breadpuddingboys @weshhhhhhhhhhhhh @ihrtlix @complete-kpop-trash @strayzid @amara-mars

[thetorturedbuckydepartment]

chapter three: in the blink of a crinkling eye

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!reader

summary: Six months ago, you were appointed to be Head Nurse to the Avengers by Tony Stark. Every day, you count your lucky stars, knowing the horrible past you quickly ditched back in England. It holds you back, restrains you, from getting close to anyone when on your new job.

That's until you met and fell in love with Bucky Barnes. The supposed assassin with a heart of gold, who seems to be eager to get to know you. To peel back your layers piece by piece, but could you trust him once you're laid before him raw and vulnerable?

masterlist

PREVIOUS PART -- CHAPTER TWO: MAKING AMENDS

warnings: language, fatshaming, self deprecation,

word count: 3.4k

Taglist: @scott-loki-barnes @cjand10 @blackwidownat2814 @blackbirdwitch22

A/N: chapter three finally!! enjoy :) also comment if you wanna be added to the taglist!

Ever since that day, you and Bucky quickly became practically inseparable. Always sitting next to each other in meetings, he’d always come to visit whenever he could, and you’d always be jetted off to missions together.

It only took an hour or two for you to open up, pour all the poison that had slowly been burning away your insides, and the both of you lightening your burdens to each other in the dead of night. The dreams leave you both quite lonely. 

You’re busy patching Steve up, just applying ointment to a bruise you’re both sure will disappear before he even leaves the infirmary. He comments on how happy you’ve seemed lately as you talk away about the plans you and Bucky have for the next weekend, discussing your idea to buy him some new clothes more suited to a man in the 21st century. And then Tony Stark walks in the room, wearing his classic thick, black sweater and looking worried as hell. 

“Nurse! We need to talk.” He looks directly at you, and you flinch at his raised tone. He clocks on immediately, softening his approach. You lead him into a neighbouring empty room.

“What’s this about Mr Stark?” You remain, ever polite. You clasp your hands in front of you, smiling expectantly. He shoves his hands in his pockets, wondering how to phrase his next words.

“I know you’ve talked to FRIDAY about your spot at dinner…but I was just informed that you asked her to not have your meal sent to your room. Is everything okay? Do you need to speak to someone?” You’re well aware of what he thinks, what he’s insinuating. You’ve been here before, the last time Sharon made a mean comment about you was the last time you set foot in that damned dining room. 

You swallow the bitter memory, making way for the sweet words about to leave your mouth. “No, sir. Everything’s alright with me. I asked FRIDAY to not send my meals to my room, because…well, I was thinking of coming to dinner tonight. Bucky talked me into it, and I think I should stop holding onto things that happen so long ago now.” You smile, letting your affection for the super soldier known. 

He relaxes, but shoots you a confused look. “Metalbox? Really?” 

“Yeah. We’re kind of good friends now.” He nods. “Alright, let me know the second anything changes or if anything is said that makes you uncomfortable. Okay?”

You nod this time, assuring him. He walks you out and lets you return to the infirmary, where Bucky is waiting for you. Your smile brightens by a millions Watts, but Bucky never seems blinded. 

“Hey Buck!” You say, taking a standstill right in front of him. You haven’t really discussed how either of you stand on physical contact, but when he wraps you in a warm hug, you don’t fight it. You own arms end up around his middle, turning the embrace into something a lot more intimate, but too lost in each other to care. 

The nickname of a nickname has him completely melting into every soft curve of you and never wanting to leave, forever entranced by the lingering scent of your lotion and perfume, the perfectly concocted pheromones only for him. 

“Hey, doll. I missed you.” His tone is so soft, your heart can barely take it. What started off as a simple attraction has now fully snowballed into a crush of embarrassing proportions, and the fact that he even wants to be around you to this degree has you completely giddy. 

When his words are such sugar, when his touch lingers just half a millisecond longer than it should, you are able to delude yourself he feels the same. You know you’re wrong, you just haven’t been shown such attention since you stopped being naturally amazing at everything as a child. But you dream anyway, of blue seas and black and gold. 

“Missed you too. Did you have a busy day sparring?” He nods, keeping an arm around you as you both walk down the long corridors, arms welded like lovers to each other’s backs. 

“Yeah, I got to practise giving Steve an ass whooping today to show the trainees how to defeat someone when held at knifepoint.”

“Oh, you have to show me sometime,” you say excited, trying not to show how hot you’re starting to run at the idea of Bucky dismantling someone despite the weapons they may yield. It makes you feel safer, snuggling up to him all that tighter. 

And then the doors to your seemingly worse nightmares appear. Simple, made of black glass and sliding open when it recognises the two of you trying to get in. 

She’s really not going to eat all of that, is she? The cruel words ring in your head and you swallow hard. “Hey, we don’t have to go if you changed your mind. We can just go to that restaurant I was telling you about on Monday.”

How long will you let your fears consume you? You shake your head. “That’s awfully sweet of you, Buck. Really, but I want to. I have to try, at least. Plus, its not just her and me in there. There’s Steve, and Nat and Wanda’s just come back from her mission, and Thor’s visiting. And you’ll be next to me. Won’t you?” You look up at him bashfully, as if you expect him to say no.

You have no idea how much he wants to kiss you and that pout on your lips. “Yeah, of course I’ll be there, doll. Always.” You grin like you’re surprised, solemnly untangling yourself from his arms as you step inside. Not that you hate the physical contact, but the idea of partaking in such activities in the presence of other people makes you sweat. You’ve never been one to share details about your romantic life, expecting nothing but a dissection and a ridicule once your chest cavity opens. You know these groups of people may not be like that, but the strange pain still ascends up your chest. You feel Bucky’s presence behind you, though, warm hand just centimetres away from yours like a promise of quick reassurance. 

The room falls silent, and you notice how you and Bucky are the last two members to enter, and so theres only two open seats — one right next to Sharon and another directly in front of her. You swallow, not knowing which position is worse when Steve warmly beckons you over to sit next to him, the seat directly opposite Sharon. 

You smile and accept his offer, watching Bucky as he walks around the table to begrudgingly take a seat in between two people, blue eyes burning like he’d much rather swap with Steve. “Nurse! How nice of you to join us!” Tony beckons from the head of the table, and everyone cheers and welcomes you warmly, Steve patting your back gently. It almost drowns out the scoff. 

You stay mainly quiet, keeping to yourself. It’s your first day here, in this dining room, and you’ll take some time to get adjusted. Hopefully a certain someone will keep her mouth shut and you’ll come back tomorrow. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Steve whispers down at you in between courses. “Me too, actually. This isn’t too horrible.” You smile just as the servers set down a plate of your favourite dish — a completely vegan chicken Alfredo and garlic bread — right in front of you, hot and steaming. Your stomach grumbles embarrassingly loudly and you try your best to stay oblivious to it, not noticing how Bucky’s eyes are trained on you, at how cute you look when you’re flustered. 

He chuckles and you meet his eye, smiling warmly. You get through the meal without a single hitch, and it seems that someone’s chastised Sharon before you could enter the room. You’re eternally grateful to that person, whoever that is.

During the meal, you get to hear stories of the time when Steve was at “war” with Tony, of childhood incidents from the 1930s, and the way Bucky acts when he’s drunk as shit. Thor’s brought some Asgardian liquor with him, knowing even the finest wine in the Tower’s cellar wouldn’t even get him buzzed. 

One by one, people start bidding goodnight, until it’s just Thor, Bucky and you. Steve has to be up at 5 tomorrow, to prepare for a meeting, or so he says. 

“And then he calls me a son of a bitch!” Thor explains, loud enough for you to flinch. He and Bucky laugh in uproar, and the sound of it takes you away. You find yourself staring, at his tipped back head and his wide grin, so beautiful all you want to do is climb in his lap and kiss him senseless. You refrain, of course. 

“Alright, I think it’s time for bed, Buck. Should we go?” You use your thumb to point behind you, and he nods.

“Yes, I would go anywhere for you, doll. All you have to do is ask.” You roll your eyes, not knowing intoxication also makes him a terrible flirt.

You gently move to him when he wraps his arms around your middle and pulls you tight to him, face buried in your soft stomach. “Mm, can we just stay like this for a while, please?” He flashes you his bright blue puppy dog eyes, and you can’t resist. Shoulders sag as you breathe out a laugh at him. “Just a minute, then we’ll get you back to your room. Okay?” He nods, pressing his gorgeous face against your middle once again, and you can’t help but smile. He’s adorable. You gently run your hands through his hair, completely oblivious to Thor’s hunkering form leaving his seat. "How is it that a woman as perfect as you exists even in the 21st century?" He drunkenly grumbles. "It's genetics, darling." You smile like you've been completely lovestruck, and it's inevitably gotten to your head. "No, doll, I'm being serious. You're so perfect, feels like I was made to complement you. So pretty…"

“Alright, time for bed. Come on.” You drag him up and he wraps his arms around your shoulders. He’s so heavy you find it hard to breathe and reluctantly pull away from his warmth. One arm around his back, you gently guide him to his room in the same fashion he’s brought you to the dining room. The entire time there, he rattles off every synonym for beautiful he can think of as you fight against a smile harder and harder. There is a drunken veracity to him in this moment, and you don’t have it in you to fight him in such a state. You haven’t had more than a glass yourself, leaving you perfectly capable of safely navigating the long corridor, planning to drop him off and safely retreat to your own room just beside his. But he pulls you in.

“Stay with me…please, doll. Need you.” His breath is hot against your ear, tone soft and needy. Like he’s two seconds away from getting on his knees and begging you.

You yield. “Okay, Buck. Let’s just get you to bed, alright?” He nods, head lolling against his shoulders. On your way to the bed, you trip over one of his socks, his shoes long discarded at the entrance, slipping. He catches you without so much as a second thought or grunt. Reminding you of his strength. His hands on your waist turn you around, and you let out a yelp as your back meets the bed, his chest meeting yours and knocking the breath out of you.

Your hands grip the sheets while you’re trying your best to not look at him, his kind words reverberating around your head. His supposed infatuation, though deep down you know isn’t true. It can’t be. 

“Stop squirming. Look at me.” He whispers, metal hand cupping your face. He’s become more confident in using it when he’s around you, you’ve noticed. But you haven’t seen how much it means to him, to have someone who didn’t know him before, and only after. Someone who knows everything and loves him despite it. Now, the definition of love used in the previous sentence can be heavily disputed —is it platonic, or something more? He feels the latter brewing in his chest, but he’s more than happy with either option. He just wants you by his side, soft and warm and everything good in the world all wrapped up in one woman.

When your eyes meet his, the sky blue has you swallowing. It’s so clear you feel like you’re flying. Even with his crushing weight sandwiching you between him and the mattress, you ache for him. More than you’ll ever admit, even as his bitter-tinted breath washes over your face.

“So pretty…Do you know how much I fucking want you? Even when I can hear every whisper, every sigh, every goddamned sound you make in here when you’re alone, after we say goodnight. All I want is to knock on your door. Would you ever answer, if I did?” His eyes are glued to your mouth, the colour entrancing him. You let out the smallest sigh, and you feel his thumb rub against your lower lip, making your eyelids flutter. The motion stirs something inside you, deep and primal, rabid and wanting. 

“Yes…” You respond before your brain has even a second to catch up, to filter your thoughts. You see his pupils dilate in real time, entranced by the sight as he takes you in, the metal pushing against your teeth no longer cold. He asks you like he hasn’t already knocked, albeit for other purposes, and you haven’t already answered at the drop of a hat.

He leans in closer and closer, and you both are aware of the current pace of your heart, slamming in your ears like you would upon a door. Your head tilts up as his moves down, hot lips just grazing along yours, igniting every bone in your body as your hands grab at his chest instead, and he lets out a breath. You swallow it, eyes closing, giving in to the desires you’ve kept locked in a bottle deep inside your chest, just under your diaphragm.

Then reality come hurtling towards you like a freight train.

“Bucky…stop.” You push a hand against his chest, surprised to feel his heart pounding just as fast as yours. You’re full expecting for push to come to shove, but to your almost disbelief, he retracts immediately. Completely off, and lying next to you, while you try to hold back tears.

You know the truth — he doesn’t really want you. He’s just drunk, and you’re the only female body around. Nothing more.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You gaze is fixed on the ceiling, unable to look at him even when he’s on his side, eyes trained on you. “After everything I’ve told you about my…my past. All the bullying, and the trauma, and the pain. Why—Why?” Several shaky breaths escape you, trying to blink back the tears. 

His fingers brush your temples frantically, absorbing the salt as he talks over himself. “Wait…Wait no. I— Doll, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I don’t wanna make you cry. No, no no, not what I meant, not what I—“ You turn to meet his eyes, grabbing his wrist in yours and unable to stop yourself from stroking the inside of it with your thumb. 

“Then what did you mean? I’ve told you, how people treat attraction to me like a joke. And then the second you have some alcohol in your system, you start acting the same way?”

“But it’s not a joke! I’m not joking when I call you beautiful. I think—I know you are, doll. Why else would I say it? You know I hate lying…” As you gaze upon his distraught expression, you realise the error of your ways, knowing he probably won’t remember any of this. So what’s the point of wasting your breath twice? For now, you accept it, lock it away for another day.

“Alright…Let’s just go to bed now, okay? I’m tired, baby.” The nickname slips out absentmindedly, and the way his mouth falls open lets you know that you didn’t overstep as his tongue traces his lips in the same way you wish to do so. 

“Yes! Let’s get my pretty baby some well deserved rest. Works too hard…” His eyes begin to close with his hand still fondly placed on your cheek, but you jerk him awake.

“No, Buck, not like this. Properly, let’s find you some comfy clothes and tuck you in. Come on.” You stand up, extending a hand to him. God, he looks so pretty from this angle, staring at you like you’re his sun and it’s a lazy picnic in the park. He entwines his fingers with yours, again bringing up that feeling of desperation in your system but you tamp it down. You gently hum the latest song stuck in your head as you get him ready for bed, slowly taking off his socks and handing him his comfiest pair of sleeping shorts, informing him of every step before you take it so you can give him the chance to tell you if you’re about to do something he doesn’t want.  What you don’t realise is that there is nothing you could do that he wouldn’t welcome. He knows you wouldn’t hurt him, only show him the gentle warmth he’s been deprived of for decades with your light fingertips and heavy gaze. You turn your back as he changes, giving him some privacy.

He doesn’t let you leave, scared you won’t come back to him. He’s never been like this, so desperate to keep you by him. You’ve only known each other a month, and you two often stay up together when he knocks after a nightmare, either diffusing the bomb in his head with mellow hands, or holding him tight as you both lose your worries to some old sitcom you introduced him to. In your heart, you can’t find yourself to leave, either. And so you use a spare toothbrush he keeps in his bathroom to get ready for bed, stealing one of his shirts he handed to you with the brightest, most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen. When you throw it over your head, you relish in the remnants of his cologne and something else, something so innately Bucky, that all you want is to bury yourself in his scent intertwined with the magic fabric of his shirt, which turns out to be loose on you. 

You set your hair, marvelling at how big he is, that his shirt is loose on every part of your body. A secret part of you wonders if he’s done it on purpose, intending to give you his clothes and opting for this looser fit…You quickly dispel the notions, ditching your bra and formal outfit on the floor, rubbing your tired eyes.

Bucky lays on his side, facing you and taking you in as you walk out. He lets out a groan and you wonder if it’s related. “You look so pretty in my clothes…fuck. Come back to bed, beautiful.” He outstretches his arms, making grabbing motions at you with his hands like an adorable child. You chuckle at his neediness and brush off the compliment as you settle into bed next to him, suddenly shy of the space in his bed you’re taking up. It’s been ages since you slept in the same bed as someone else…but you try not to dwell on it.

Bucky flips around immediately, sliding a warm arm around your waist and pulling you closer, eyes already closed. He’s so hot, practically a furnace when he pulls you in, like he can’t stand to be apart from you. What has the alcohol done to him?

“Good night, doll.” He rests his head in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. His warmth is beautiful, and your glad his eyes are closed so he can’t see the absolutely wanting look plastered over your face, so deep it makes you physically ache inside your chest when you lift a hand to stroke through his hair, so soft like the sigh that escapes him. Like you soothe him, and it’s all he’s been waiting for.

“Good night, Buck.” Sleeps comes quite easily.

NEXT PART

[trippinsorrows]

give me a reason + three

authors note: still blown away by people's interest in this one. i included visuals in this chapter, so look out for links. tweets and messages are intended to be read from left to right.

as always, confusion is to be expected. :)

one + two

words: 8k

song inspo: just give me a reason by p!nk and nate ruess

warnings: language and fluff

To say this is the first time in his life that Joe has felt lonely would be a lie. He felt it a bit the first time he left home for school, but it was greatly eased by the fact that he had BJ, his best friend. They were both in the same boat, so it wasn’t as bad.

He felt it again on and off over the years as he fought to make an NFL career that was never going to work, well, work. And once that brutal realization finally hit, after taking way too much time feeling sorry for himself, he experienced t it again as he started the hustle and grind to make a wrestling career work instead. 

And he’s especially felt it over the past two years as his marriage with Ri has deteriorated to a level he thought unreachable. 

But this….this is different.

It’s different because he’s not going home to an empty house. He’s on the road, back to work, surrounded by his cousins, a fantastic team, and a plethora of fans. It’s truly the opposite of loneliness.

But that’s exactly what Joe feels.

Because he doesn’t have her. Doesn’t have Ri.

Even if he hasn’t had her for at least two years. Not really, anyway. Not in any meaningful way that actually matters to him. 

A knock on the door pulls him from his depressing inner dialogue. 

Sitting up, Joe calls out, “come in.” 

In walk Jon and Josh, and right away, Joe knows what’s up. He can tell by their facial expressions.

“I’m fine.” Maybe if he jumps ahead of whatever semi intervention they have planned, he can avoid a conversation he really doesn’t feel like having. Physically or mentally. 

“Bullshit,” Josh scoffs, closing the door behind them. The twins sit down on different seats opposite the sofa Joe’s big body is sprawled on. “You ain’t been fine for a minute, Uce.”

It’s not entirely wrong, but that doesn’t mean Joe has to necessarily agree. “A lot of shit has happened.”

“Yeah, and I’m not quite sure you fully allowing yourself to feel that shit.”

“Kind of hard not to.”

“You know what we mean, Joe.” Jon cuts in, asking over a sigh. “Why you here right now? You should be with Ella. Helping her heal and remember shit.”

Joe feels the exact same way, but that’s not what her family wanted. Not what she wanted to some extent, because Joe was present when her parents brought up the idea of her returning home to Florida with them. She didn’t seem opposed. Didn’t express any desire to instead stay and go back to her real home with him. 

Not that he can blame her. He’s a complete stranger to her. Granted, technically, so is her family. So that not being chosen thing has definitely left a sting. 

So, Joe settles on a simple answer, “it’s not what she wanted.”

Josh is quick with the rebuttal. “Man, she don’t even know who she is, let alone what she wants.” Again, not wrong. But also, again, no need to verbalize as such. “Look, Uce, I know….I know things been rocky with you and her the past couple years—”

“Don’t.” This time, Joe doesn’t hesitate to dead the conversation before it can truly transpire. “I’m not doing this shit right now.”

“That’s the problem though, Joe.” Jon jumps back in, pointing out, “I feel like you, and her too, been avoiding talking about whatever it is that happened. And that avoidance has damn near cost you your marriage.”

“I said I’m not doing this, Jon. Drop it.” Joe can think of a million other things that he’d prefer to talk about than that. All kinds of cruel, mideval types of torture would be preferred over venturing down that path. The only person he should be discussing that with is his wife. But, that’s hard to do when she doesn’t even remember it. 

Doesn’t remember the thing he’ll never truly be able to process. 

He doesn’t even know someone can process and make peace with that. 

The twins share a look. They must know they’re defeated. In this round, at least. Cause if it’s one thing he knows about the cousins he considers more as brothers, they can be resilient and tenacious. Especially when it comes to heavy shit like this.

“Alright, man.” Josh shakes his head and slaps his thighs. “We’ll leave you alone.” It’s appreciated and both unwanted. Joe doesn’t want to be alone, per se. But, he doesn’t want his cousins, either.

He wants his wife. 

And when they walk out, the door closing behind them figuratively and literally, Joe is back to ruminating thoughts about his wife.

His wife who he’s seen mostly online in the two weeks that have passed since she was discharged from the hospital and left to be with her family. 

Joe isn’t ashamed or embarrassed to admit he’s found himself looking at footage of her via her music videos, interviews, performances and home videos. He’s reviewed old news articles that came out about them back in the day, got a good chuckle at a situation a few years back where some irrelevant rapper called himself trying to start shit with Mari that Joe and BJ handled and deaded right away.

He laughed over old text exchanges with his wife who will always be the smartest yet dumbest person he’s ever met when it comes to common sense sometimes. 

But, he’s especially enjoyed the home videos. Joe had almost forgotten just how much footage he has of her. Personal videos taken when it was just the two of them. 

Some taken by her. Some taken by him.

Memories, they’d always call them.

And they still are. 

Just haunted ones. 

Joe grabs his phone and navigates to his videos folder. There’s hundreds of them, because every time he upgrades to a new phone, he always makes sure to back up and transfer his texts, photos, and videos. For no reason other than not wanting to lose anything. Not miss out on any of the many hilarious, heartwarming moments with Ri. 

Joe picks a random video, a smile easily falling on his face as he immediately remembers and recalls what this one is. 

She’s wearing one of his Bloodline shirts, a random ball cap and a pair of his sunglasses over her eyes. There’s also a spatula in her hand as she sits on the floor in their living room in front of their flat screen TV while one of his more popular promos with Brock Lesnar plays in the background.

“You must be confused, farm boy. That title? That’s my title, and you don’t even realize cause I’m gon smash you at WrestleMania. And it’s not even your fault, Brock. You ain’t got a chance.” She’s mouthing along perfectly, facial expressions and body language in almost perfect sync with her makeshift microphone. Joe can hear his laughter in the background as she stands up, getting more into character. “This is my show! This is my ring!” She gestures off to the side. “This cameraman right here? This is my cameraman!” She gestures around the room. “These people, these are all my people, because they acknowledge me!” She then points to him. “These two right here? They work for me! This commentary team is mine because they brag and talk about me the whole time.” She then lifts her arm, pointing to the ceiling. “That sign right there? Is mine! Because I am WrestleMania! I am this show, I run this show, and everybody works for me!” She smirks, head titled. “Including the security in the ring with me.” Joe’s laughter increases as she drops the spatula and throws the hat off along with the sunglasses, also falling out laughing with him. 

Ri walks over and climbs onto his lap, asking, “That was good, wasn’t it?” Joe doesn’t hear a response on his end, but he’s certain it was nonverbal acknowledgement. 

As the video ends, he finds himself back frowning again.

Close….

They were so close.

Joe switches to a different album, photos this time, his smile returning as he opens a photo she snapped of them laying in bed. He’s clearly asleep, his arm over her body as she smiles happily.

His finger traces over the outline of her smile, a memory popping into his head.

“It’s just so beautiful.”

Joe sighs. Loud. 

It’s not often he gets time off, so these next couple days are precious and cherished. And he’d love to kick it off the right way: by getting some much needed sleep.

If only his lovely wife understood this.

Because even though it’s almost 2am, she sits beside him in their bed, emotional for no damn reason at her chosen movie: The Brave Little Toaster.

He blows out a breath. “It’s literally about kitchen supplies.” Joe then asks, confused as hell. “Why the hell you watching this anyway?”

Her answer is rushed and nervous. “Because I watched that creepy ass movie earlier today, and now I need to ease my anxiety.” 

Joe closes his eyes, turning on his back, looking at her with all the judgment. “Didn't I tell you not to watch that shit? You know your ass is scary as hell.” As soon as she started giving him a description of the movie, a psychological thriller, he knew she needed to stay far away. Ri has a tendency to overthink films like that, somehow convincing herself that whatever happened in the movie could happen to her. 

And that’s exactly what’s happened. 

“Well, I didn’t listen to you, okay!” Joe rolls his eyes. Obviously. “So, now I need to watch this soft, cute movie about these brave little utensils.” She starts sniffling. “And it’s just so sad.”

“What they do? Rust?”

“Joe!” She slaps his arm, huffing, “oh my gosh, you have no creative bone in your body.”

“Not at no damn 2 o'clock in the morning, you’re right, I don’t.” He turns back on his side, bringing the blankets up to his neck, snatching back more of the covers from his hogging ass wife. “Now I’m going back to sleep. You enjoy your KitchenAid movie.”

But that’s damn near impossible when she starts crying again minutes later, somehow louder than before. 

“He’s just so brave.”

“Oh my god.” Joe closes his eyes, rolling once again onto his back. He pinches the bridge of his nose and reminds himself that this is his best friend and his wife. He can’t grenade this. Can’t and won’t hurt her feelings by telling her to shut the fuck up, even though that’s what he would say if it was literally anyone else. “Your period must be coming because you done gone through all six stages of grief watching this damn kids movie about a fucking toaster.”

Ri gasps beside him, and he can almost feel her dramatic ass, judgmental glare. “I resent you saying that! Just because I’m a woman with feelings does not mean—“ She pauses. “What day is it?”

And before he can answer, she’s kicking the blankets off, climbing over him, and scampering to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Joe is barely even able to turn back on his side when she calls out from the bathroom. “Goddamnit , you man, you! You spoke it over me!”

He sighs. It all makes sense now.

Ri is just an overall emotional, theatrical ass person, but it’s always exacerbated whenever she’s on her cycle. She becomes….difficult. 

Super sensitive. 

“Shit.”

He hears her curse from the bathroom, but it’s not as loud, not as dramatic. And that’s what catches his attention.

“What?” Nothing. Nothing but the sound of the drawers being opened and almost slammed shut, like she’s in a rush of some sort. Joe kicks the blankets off and walks over to the bathroom. He knocks once, asking, “can I come in?”

She answers by opening up the door only to turn back around, clearly looking for something. “What’s wrong?”

“Damnit!” She snaps, slamming the cabinet shut. “I’m out of tampons.” Ri walks over and gestures to the few she has on the counter. “These are all light.” 

Shit. 

Right away, he sees her dilemma. There’s no way she can use light tampons for the first night of her period. And the reason he knows this and isn’t weirded out like how some men would be is simple. He grew up the only boy among four sisters, the baby of them all. He’s heard and learned a lot over the years. Some, or maybe a lot of which, he could have gone the rest of his life without knowing. But, some information, like in cases like this, have proved to be a bit helpful. 

So, it’s only natural, he offers, “I’ll run to the drugstore right quick.”

Ri turns to him, instantly protesting, “no. It’s late, Joe.” She crosses her arms and shrugs. “I can just, like, stuff a bunch of toilet paper up my vagina for tonight and pray nothing gets stuck.”

He leans against the doorway, easily shooting that down. “Yeah, with your luck, that’s exactly what’ll happen too.” He loves his Ri more than what’s probably healthy, but the girl is accident prone and the queen of freak accidents. “I’d rather get you the damn tampons than spend all night in the ER with you.”

Her not disagreeing with his prediction is telling. She knows he’s right. “Let me at least go with you. I don’t want you out by yourself this late.”

Joe would also not like to be out on the road, hitting up Walgreens for a random ass tampon run, but this is also Ri. And there’s very little he wouldn’t do for her.

If anything. 

“I think I’ll be fine, Ri.” He chuckles, walking over to her. She pouts as he kisses her temple. “You’re the one who would get kidnapped or some shit.” He laughs at his comment, a reference to the movie she watched earlier that’s got her up so wide and awake. 

She gasps, mouth dropped as she looks up with wide eyes. “See! I told you it could happen!”

Joe walks into their bedroom and throws on some sweats, a hoodie, and slides on some sneakers. He grabs his wallet, keys, and phone as Ri walks out, shuffling over to him and moving up against his chest, hugging him. “You want the chocolate?” She nods. “Milky Ways?” 

Again, another nod as she looks up. “And the—”

“Hot fries and Arizona tea. The one mixed with lemonade. I know.” 

She pouts. “Thank you.”

He kisses her forehead, murmuring, “I’ll be back.”

He walks toward the door, as she calls out, “I love you.”

Joe chuckles. “I love you too, baby.” He’s halfway down the steps when she screams out from the bedroom. 

“Damnit! Now we can’t do the nasty!”

By the end of the memory, a time so much simpler and happier, Joe has his head back, eyes closed, emotions all over the fucking place. 

She was his best friend. The person he trusted the most. More than anyone. 

And all of a sudden, it was just….gone. 

His entire view of her….gone.

Or maybe not.

Because while this nightmare of an accident has taught and shown him a lot, one of the biggest things it’s made him realize is that while his hurt and confusion and betrayal may be strong, his love for her is stronger.

It always has been.

He was just blinded by all of those other miserable, heavy emotions and too stubborn to do anything about it.

And now he’s in this extremely uncomfortable, confusing as fuck dilemma where he has to find someway to manage and deal with these emotions when they should be managed and dealt with with her.

But how can someone forgive someone for something they don’t even remember doing?

———-

Sleeping in a bed that isn’t yours anymore but once was is….weird. 

Sleeping in a bed in a bedroom that was once yours is even weirder.

But, staying in a house full of people who feel like and are, for all intents and purposes, complete strangers is the weirdest of them all.

It’s borderline uncomfortable.

Mariella understands the intentions of her parents. Sees how they think and believe her sleeping in her old bedroom could potentially stir some memories. It makes sense. But, it doesn’t work that way.

At least, it’s not working that way for her. 

And to her credit, she tries. Tries to observe and almost study the damn near wall full of photos from her childhood, photos of her with people who are both family and friends. She’s not sure if this was just how she last decorated her old room, but something tells her it’s the result of her family's continued effort to jog her memory. It seems….excessive. But from what she’s gathered, that’s also a good word to describe her personality. Extra. Dramatic even. 

If only she could….connect with that somehow. 

Stepping out of the shower, she takes her time getting ready. Doesn’t rush to get downstairs where she knows she’ll be greeted with a row of smiling, unfamiliar faces. Mariella really does feel bad that she’s having such a difficult time understanding and connecting, because for all intents and purposes, her ‘family’ has been nothing but kind and supportive.

And she knows this has to be difficult for them, but….she can’t force it. 

Even if she wanted to.

Because she damn sure does.

It would all be so much easier that way. 

Sure enough, the smell of bacon sizzling on the fire and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee isn’t the only thing that’s waiting for her in the kitchen.

Her father is the first one to lay eyes on her, his smile small but oh so genuine. “Morning, Ella.”

Mariella does her best to return the smile. From what she’s seen and heard, she’s always been exceptionally close with her dad. With her whole family, really.

“Morning.” 

Her mom turns around at the sound of her voice and entrance, also smiling. It’s bigger and deeper than her dad’s. And she doesn't hesitate to turn the fire on low, clap her hands against her apron and walk over to pull Mariella into a hug.

It’s not missed upon either woman how Mariella initially tenses. And she feels bad for that too. This is her mother for crying out loud. 

April pulls back, the sadness and slight level of rejection evident in her pretty brown eyes that Mariella realizes she inherited from her mother. “I’m sorry, I—”

“No, it’s…it’s okay.” Mariella swallows, forcing an even bigger smile. “You are my mother, after all.”

April’s smile is tight, the coverup for a disappointment Mariella can’t truly understand. “How did you sleep?”

Not very good. “Fine.” She walks over to the machine, lifting the mug that she assumes belongs to her dad given the same word is written in big red letters on said mug. She reaches it to him. 

“Thank you.”

A small nod of acknowledgment as she grabs a new mug and starts to brew her coffee when April speaks from where she stands again by the fire. “I was thinking of going to the promenade today. Olivia is going too. Would you like to join us, Ella?”

Mariella doesn’t have to be looking at her mother to know that while it’s meant to be a question, it’s more of a statement. And while she isn’t opposed, much preferring to be out of the house vs in the house, home videos and photos stuffed down her throat, a true question would be nice vs being told.

“Sure,” she answers with a shrug, turning around and pulling out her phone, opening to the contact she’s found herself thinking about the past couple days. 

Joe.

Their last correspondence was almost a week ago. All limited to texts that seem rather on the dry end considering they’re supposed to be married. She doesn’t really fault him though. In his defense, he seems to be wanting to give her space vs coming on too strong.

Unlike her family.

She sighs loudly, fingers hovering over the keyboard as she debates editing, once again, the text she’s had drafted for a couple of days but hasn’t built the courage to send.

Mariella: Can we facetime or something?

It’s such a simple thing that she’s not sure why she’s overthinking. In the little interaction she had with him at the hospital, she could see that despite his size, he’s a man on the quiet side. That calmness was appreciated, and in the midst of being bombarded with information, she’s found herself missing that to some extent.

Missing….missing him to some extent.

Even if it makes no sense to her. 

“Morning, family.” Olivia’s voice rings into the air, pulling Mariella back into the present. She’s dressed to the nines, and from that alone, without even needing to be told, Mariella knows her sister is a successful woman. She just looks the part. Liv sets a smile that seems a bit off on her, red lipstick contrasting against her almost unnatural, straight, pearly whites. “Hey, sis. How you feeling?”

Such a big question that seems impossible to truthfully answer to the people who are only trying to help. “Good.” So, she lies. “I guess I’m going out with you all shopping today?”

Olivia rolls her eyes and adjusts the expensive looking designer bag on her shoulder. “Of course, you are. We’ve gotta get you back out there.”

“Olivia…” 

Olivia turns to their dad, asking, “what? She has to get back to her life eventually.”

“Leave her be, Liv.”

Olivia rolls her eyes, ignoring April and reiterates, “she needs more than just photos and videos, guys.”

Mariella doesn’t know what she specifically needs but being thrusted into social situations when she still hasn’t memorized her SSN seems to not be it either. 

But still, she remains quiet. 

“Ella.” Mariella turns to her dad, brows raised. “When’s the last time you spoke to Jo—”

“Oh, Ella, I forgot there was something I wanted to show you.” Olivia interrupts the question Mariella was already thinking about without her dad even needing to ask her.

The thing she’s still thinking about even as Olivia pulls out her phone, inundating some random ass photos from back when she was in high school.

The man she can’t seem to stop thinking about.

———-

As expected, shopping has ended up providing just another form of frustration and level of feeling of being overwhelmed.

It wouldn’t be as bad for Mariella if her mom and sister didn’t feel the need to stop and introduce her to almost everyone who’s familiar, to them, that they come across. She feels a bit like a politician, plastering on smiles that don’t meet her eyes and accepting hugs from strangers. Members from church. Old neighbors. Even an old elementary school teacher.

It’s just weird.

So much so that she eventually has to excuse herself, making up some excuse about a headache as she sits outside on a bench in front of the store where Olivia and April continue to shop.

Mariella is grateful for the solitude and uses that to once again play around with just texting her freaking husband of all people. 

She could use some of his quiet right now. 

“Mariella?”

One thing that’s improved is her ability to respond to her name, but it’s who says her name that has Mariella more stumped than anything. 

He’s standing above her, creating a massive shadow and distraction from her sending out the text she’s not exactly sure she wants to actually send. 

He’s wearing a smile that’s objectively friendly, but there’s something about it that feels….off. He’s also objectively attractive, pretty light eyes, tall, sinewy build. Facial features that seem more appropriate for a page out of Vogue vs being on this strip of stores.

“Wow. It really is you.” He scoffs and tucks his sunglasses near the collar of his shirt. “It’s been too long.”

Mariella may not know just who exactly she is, but she does know the difference between being friendly and rude. And she really doesn’t know a nicer way to say her first response other than what comes out. “I’m sorry, I don’t….do we know each other?”

The man frowns a bit. “That’s right. I forgot….” Something tells her he feels uncomfortable outright saying what’s otherwise obvious. Like the fact that she was in a severe accident that knocked the shit out of her. 

And her memories. 

“My name is Brendan. We….we dated back in college.” 

Oh.

Mariella still doesn’t know a lot about herself. Much of anything at all, really. But what she is seeing is that her taste in men is pretty damn good, because this Brendan person is far from ugly. Though it’s hard to not compare. Hard to not think about the contrast between him and Joe, her husband’s voice deep and baritone compared to Brendan’s soprano-like tone. Joe’s massive build to Brendan’s much slender one. Even the height difference. She recalls having to crane her head up to look at Joe. Brendan is a few inches taller than her but nothing significant. 

And those comparisons also have her reconsidering, yet again, keeping the text as it is right now, just drafted in her phone. Has her wondering what benefits could be gained from just sending it, seeing what he says.

“Oh.” The word escapes her head but nothing else comes out, Brendan clearing his throat.

“This may be poor wording, but you look absolutely amazing considering….well….”

“That I almost died?” He looks uncomfortable but also amused. “It’s…it’s okay. I guess it’s a compliment.”

“I didn’t realize you were in town.” He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans, asking. “How long are you here for?”

Hopefully not much longer.

And it’s a thought that she instantly feels bad about. This is her family, and it’s not their fault she can’t remember. Because they’re trying their damn hardest to change that. But, that’s also a part of the problem. 

It’s…..it’s too much.

She feels almost suffocated at times. 

Like now with this Brendan person. 

“I don’t know.” An honest, truthful answer followed up with more honesty. “But, I’ll be going back to California eventually.” Back to be with her husband. One person vs several who seems really great at giving her information but not too much. Largely only when she asks vs being told in heaps of overwhelming data. “With my husband.”

She doesn’t know why she adds on that last part or why she fiddles with the beautiful diamond on her left hand. The ring that she placed on her finger without much thought when given her items upon being discharged. 

Brendan’s lip twitches, his eyes flashing with something that almost looks like irritation. “Of course.” There’s definitely no denying the irritation in his tone. “Listen, I’d love for us to catch up before you leave. A cup of coffee.” Her eyes widen a bit when he adds on, “maybe even dinner—”

“Hello.” 

Another voice. This one a bit more familiar. April stands in the doorway of the store with Olivia. They both wear polar opposite expressions. Olivia is smiling in Brendan’s direction while April’s mouth is in a straight line as she moves to stand beside Mariella.

“Mrs. Holmes. Long time, no see.” The irritation is washed away, swapped out with something amiable but also….inauthentic. Mariella doesn’t know if she’s exactly in a place to be judging people or calling them fake when she doesn’t even know who she is, but there’s something….off about this Brendan character.

She doesn’t know a shit ton about Joe either, other than the basics, but right off the bat, between the two of them, she chose the right one to walk down the aisle with.

Her mom’s smile remains tight. “Maybe not long enough.” This takes Mariella by surprise. She hasn’t seen this side of her mother before. Unfriendly, almost.

Olivia, however, rolls her eyes. “Mother, please. You know Brendan also works for the same firm I’m at.” Ahh. That would explain the smile. “Excuse my mom. It’s been….a lot for all of us.” 

Now, Mariella is the one fighting back confusion. She gets that this has to be difficult for her family. For her to not remember who they are, but it’s not just them she can’t remember. She can’t remember quite literally anything. She’s the one who’s been impacted the most out of this.

She just kinda wishes they would get that more. Would respect the level of intrapersonal difficulty on her end. 

“Of course.” Brendan frowns, but again, it feels inauthentic. “Well, I won’t keep you, ladies—”

“Good.” 

Mariella bites down on her lip, turning away to hide her smile as Olivia looks straight up annoyed at April’s coldness.

“I’ll see you at the office, Brendan.” Olivia says almost apologetically, dragging her eyes back to her mom who seems completely unapologetic for her tone.

Brendan nods, landing his gaze back on Mariella. “Remember my offer, Ella.”

She can’t even find it in her to nod or acknowledge his departing message because there’s not a single part of Mariella that wants to entertain his offer let alone take him up on it. Does he not know she’s married?

It’s once he’s gone that April turns toward Mariella, a genuine smile replacing the fake one. “Sweetie, can you go wait in the car? I need to speak to your sister.”

There’s a part of her that would like to overhear this probably interesting conversation, but the desire to just be away and by herself is more overpowering.

“Sure.” She accepts the key fob and shopping bag from her mom, not hesitating to turn on her heel and head back toward the parking lot. 

And as soon as she’s gone, Olivia is on April, voice harsh and sharp. “Mother, what the hell was that?”

“Watch your language with me, child.” April’s correction is swift as she crosses her arms. “When did you plan to mention Brendan now works with you?”

“Didn’t realize I had to keep you up to date on the latest hires at my job.” She rolls her eyes, also crossing her arms. “Plus, really, mama? How was that a priority with everything we’ve had happening?”

“Watch it, Olivia.” Aprils loves all her children equally, but Olivia has always been the one to push her close to her limits. “I don’t like that boy. He’s a snake.”

“Oh my gosh…” Olivia turns away for a second, coming back as she points out, “you don’t even know him.”

“I don’t have to know him. You know why? Cause I distinctly remember Joe nearly putting him in the hospital for whatever went down between him and your sister.”

Olivia is taken back for a second. Her mom’s memory is as sharp as the best of them. “You mean when he committed aggravated assault and ruined any chances Brendan had for a basketball career?” 

April, however, is not backing down, showing just where Olivia inherited her stubborn personality. “You ever wonder why Joe reacted the way he did? How bad it must have been for him to get that upset?”

“Oh, please. Mama, let’s not act like Joe hasn’t always been a hothead. He’s just better at masking it than BJ.” And before April can protest, Olivia provides facts. “How many times did you and daddy get a call or called down to the office cause BJ got into it with someone, huh? And more often than not, who’d he get in trouble with? Joe.” Olivia shakes her head. “The only reason they always got slaps on the wrist was because they were athletes. Joe has been problematic, and I’m tired of ya’ll not seeing it.” She blows out a big breath. “Brendan is not a bad guy—”

“You saw how he was looking at your sister.” April stresses, lowering her voice. “Don’t no man have no business looking at a married woman like that unless he’s got bad intentions.”

“Ella isn’t even with Joe right now, so what’s the big deal?”

April is quiet for a moment, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What are you up to, Olivia?” 

Olivia easily slides into deflection. “Mama, you’re always so hyper-vigilant—”

April, however, is wise and knowing. She advises with all the seriousness, “don’t think that because your sister can’t remember nothing that you can just rewrite history.”

“Mama—”

“I’m speaking.” And Olivia quiets down because no matter how old she gets, her mother using that tone will never not be able to set her straight. “Hear me, and hear me good, lil’ girl. Ella is home with us now, yes, but she will be going back to California to be with Joe because he is her husband, and her place is with him.”

———-

Spring, 2023 

“You want to what?”

Iris was already having a not so great day. Some inept, thinks he's a hot shot lawyer actually thinking that he can lowball and bully her into convincing a client to accept a deal that’s absolute horse shit.

She had to, of course, show him just why she’s the most sought after manager in entertainment. Ruthlessly.

The thought of his bubble eyes nearly bulging out of his head at her cutthroat response is almost enough for her to actually smile. A rare anomaly that happens every couple of years but is especially not going to happen after what she just heard.

Mariella rolls her eyes, again repeating herself. “I said I’ll do the tour.”

Iris knew she heard her right. It’s just the shock of it all that made her need some level of clarification. “I’m sorry, you do remember that this is a world tour, Ella, right?” And in case she forgot, Iris reminds, “you’d be on tour for nine months.”

“And?” Ella shrugs, continuing to write in her notebook, lyrics of some sort. “It’ll be a great opportunity to connect with my fans.”

“Fuck your fans, Ella.” Iris is quick and borderline nasty with it. “Who gives a fuck about them?” She sits down on the opposite end of the sofa. “I’m thinking about you.”

Iris sees the way that Ella tenses at that last part. “I’m fine, Iris.”

“Bullshit.” She then asks, almost tentatively. “Ella….have you sp—”

“No.” It’s a firm, harsh, borderline cruel shut down. A complete sentence compacted into a single word.

Iris closes her eyes. “I just think—”

“Get me the contract to sign, Iris. That’s all I need you to do.” 

If only Iris was a ‘yes’ man. “You think this shit is healthy, Ella? You’re running away.”

“I don’t need your judgment.”

“I would never judge you.” And it’s the truth. Iris may judge quite literally everyone else who walks this earth. But not Ella nor Promise Rose, her best friends since she was a child. And especially….especially not Ella. Not after…..after what happened. “But, I just—you’re not happy, Ella.”

There’s a brief second of hesitation. “I wasn’t happy before it happened, Iris.”

Voice softening, Iris calmly contradicts her, “yes, you were.” Ella closes the notebook, pushing it to the side and pulling her legs up to her chest, looking away. Even without a clear look at her face, Iris knows the emotions are brewing. “I just—I think if you tell him—”

“No!” That’s what makes Ella snap her watery gaze back on her best friend turned manager. “I—I can’t. I won’t. He doesn’t deserve to know.”

Iris closes her eyes. “Ella—”

“Have you told anyone?”

Iris is almost offended that Ella could even fix her mouth to ask such a question. Ella knows how massive loyalty and trust are to her. “Of course, not. I would never. I just….I hate to see you like this.”

For as long as Iris has known Ella, she’s always been an annoying ass ray of sunshine. Always seeing the bright side of things. Glass always half full. But in recent months, especially after that….something in her has snapped, has gone away into deep hiding. And usually, this is when Iris would gladly push Ella in the arms of her husband. He’s always been Ella’s safe person. 

Now, Iris can’t even get the two in the same room without an argument breaking out. 

They’re both just so….angry with each other.

Or maybe it’s not anger.

Maybe it’s just hurt.

“That’s why I need to get away, Iris.” Ella all but whispers. “I need….I need a new environment. I feel like I’m surrounded by reminders.” She sniffles, quickly wiping at her eyes. “I just….it hurts too much to stick around and have to constantly relive it. I—” Her voice cracks. “Please….please just get me the contract.”

“I will.” Iris doesn’t agree with this, doesn’t like it at all, but she also knows her best friend can be determined as hell. If she doesn’t handle the tour negotiations, Mariella will do it on her own and sign just anything just to get away. To escape. “But, I still think you should talk to J—”

“I hate him!” 

No one says anything. 

Iris is truly stunned into silence. In the two decades that have transpired since the beginning of her friendship, She has never known Mariella to express such strong sentiments against another human being. It’s almost against her nature. 

But to say such a thing towards Joe? Her person?

Iris now realizes just how deeply this hurt and trauma lies.

That maybe….that maybe their relationship truly is irreparable at this point. That lies, deception, betrayal, and everything else under the sun has destroyed something she once thought indestructible. 

———-

Present 

The last name Joe expected to see pop up on his phone is the exact name that’s flashing along with his contact photo for her which happens to be them a couple years back when they finally went on a long awaited honeymoon to Bora Bora. She’s in front of him, his arms around her, her smile big and wide, eyes closed as he kisses her cheek.

It’s one of his favorite pictures of them, and even after all this time, after everything that’s happened….he hasn’t been able to bring himself to change it.

Even….even when for a brief while, he thought he hated her. 

There’s a second of delay as Joe hits the green button, officially accepting her FaceTime call. 

His connection is the strongest it’s been all day because she’s almost instantly filling his phone screen.

“Hey….”

She smiles, and Joe takes a minute to take her in. The cuts and bruises on her face have almost entirely healed. She doesn’t look as pale as she was laid up in the hospital bed. Her curly hair is pulled into two space buns. “Hi. Is—is this a bad time?” She’s outside, clearly. In her parents backyard on the swing that holds a million and one memories. 

Joe shakes his head. “No.” Even if it was, it wouldn’t make a difference. This is the first time she’s called him since being with her family. He’d make whatever work if need be. “How are you feeling?”

She chuckles, but it’s bitter. Almost resentful. “Overwhelmed.” 

Joe sits up more, naturally asking, “you wanna talk about it?”

“Thank you for actually asking.” Her voice is soft as she leans back into the swing, answering truthfully, “I know they mean well, and they’re just trying to help, but—”

He finds it almost too easy to finish her statement. Knowing her, her tics and whatnot has always been so easy. “It’s too much.”

“I just….” She blows out a breath. “You seem a lot more chill, and….and you ask me what questions I have instead of just telling me shit that I don’t remember and feel any sort of way about, even though I know I should.”

“It’s….it’s gonna take time.” And that’s truly a guesstimate on Joe’s end, because the official medical recommendation on her amnesia is that it’s unknown when or if she’ll ever fully restore her memories.

And he’s still so damn torn on just how he feels about that.

“I was wondering…” She looks down, pausing. This is such an unfamiliar thing for Joe. He’s not used to her being so quiet. His wife is many things, and quiet is none of them. “I know you’re on the road and stuff, but…is there anyway I can like….join you for a bit?” She quickly adds, “I don’t know if that’s even a thing—”

“It is,” he finds himself answering. Quickly. Probably too quickly. “I travel on a bus for the most part, stay in hotels for the rest, so if you wanted—”

“I do,” she also answers quickly. “I just…I think I need something different. This.” She motions between herself and the camera. “This is a lot easier than having over 30 years of history shoved down my throat.”

Joe feels for her, hates hearing the conflict in her voice, and he doesn’t blame or fault her family. They’re probably doing the best they can. It’s just….not what she needs right now.

“When…..when can I come?”

The almost desperation in her voice catches his attention, creating a sense of excitement in his stomach that’s quickly quenched by the wise reminder that she’s not coming for him. She’s coming to get away. Not that the specific reason makes much of a difference. He just wants to see her.

“When do you want to come?”

She chews down on her bottom lip. “Would tomorrow be too soon?”

His eyes widen a bit as he clarifies. “Tomorrow?”

She nods. “I’m—I’m sure I can get a flight out.”

She could, but he has a better option. “You should use the jet.”

Ri is understandably confused. “Jet?”

Joe has to remind himself yet again to approach this a bit from a tabula rasa standpoint. “You have a private jet. Through your record label.” He does too, but that’s not what’s important right now. He’s also partially confused why they didn’t take it when flying home to Florida, but it’s not a major thing. Nothing worth thinking too much about. 

She makes an ‘O’ with her mouth. “That’s right, we are, like, rich, aren’t we?”

He chuckles. “Now, yes.”

She gives a little smile, asking, “I guess there’s a story there?”

“There’s a lot of stories with us, Ri….” His voice is quiet as he clears his throat, not necessarily wanting to go down that road. “If you’re serious about coming—”

“I am.” She speaks up, shoulders dropping. “I just—I think it’d be nice to spend some time with you. Hear about that part of my life at my own pace.” He nods, understanding where she’s coming from, trying not to put too much into her comment about wanting to directly spend time with him. “Is it just you on the bus?”

“Basically. My cousins sometimes hang out, but they have their own bus, so I gladly kick them out when it starts getting late.”

She smiles, and Joe is close to screenshotting, wanting to add it to his collection when her smile dips into something else, eyes squinting. “J—Jon, right?” Joe sits up more. “And…..Jo—Josh?” He scoffs, in a partial state of disbelief and shock. “They’re….they’re twins, aren’t they?”

He nods, unable to speak. Did….did she really just remember something? On her own?

A frown falls on her face. “I don’t….can’t remember anything other than that and something….I don’t know, something about Uno?” 

Joe laughs. The best laugh he’s had in some time, since this whole nightmare began. “Before your schedule got super crazy, you’d come on the road with me, and you and my cousins always played Uno, and it always ended up being a thing because you all suck and can never agree on the rules.”

She giggles, eyes twinkling with mischief. “And what about you? Are you any good?”

He scoffs. “Better than ya’ll.” 

Her mouth drops open as she declares. “Okay, then we definitely need to play when I get there. Cause I feel like I might surprise ya’ll. Maybe I could beat you.”

Joe makes a sound. “You can try. You've never been able to beat me. None of ya’ll.”

She crosses her arms and exclaims with all the confidence. “Oh, I’ve gotta knock you down a peg. Are you always this arrogant?” She asks, head tilted. 

His correction is calm and assured. “Not arrogant, baby. Confident.” 

Her smile deepens, and Joe finds himself enjoying her company more than he has in some time. Even if it’s through a damn phone. “Yeah, well, you’ve got the looks to back it up. Let’s see if you have the talent.”

She has no idea. “Just remember you asked for this.”

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes, and they exchange a prolonged locking of gazes. “I—-that’s the first thing I’ve remembered on my own, and you….you didn’t even have to try to force it.” 

She swallows, voice softening. “I’d really like to come see you.”

He wants her to come too. More than she could know. “Text your sister. Everly. Not Olivia. See if she’ll fly out with you. If not, I’ll come. You don’t need to be traveling by yourself.”

Ri frowns. “I don’t—I was medically cleared to travel.”

“Yes, and you did so without incident because your team hadn’t announced you’d been released yet, but now the public knows you’re out. They spot you, and the fucking paparazzi will be all over you. You don’t need that.” Mariella has never enjoyed the constant flashing of lights and cameras in her face anyway. 

He doesn’t want her dealing with that on her own. “Okay.” She then asks, “Why not ask Olivia?”

Joe debates how to approach this. “Your sister and I….we’ve never gotten along. If she knows you’re coming to see me, she’ll probably decline to travel with you. Everly is more or less a flower child. She’ll be fine with it.”

It’s the best answer he can come up with in the moment. He happens to think Olivia is a certified bitch who sticks her nose where it doesn’t belong, but he would never do anything to create a biased view of how she sees her sister.

Anyone in her family. 

Ri chuckles, and he half expects her to ask why her sister doesn’t like her husband, but she instead hits him with something unexpected. “Do you know who Brendan is?”

And just like that, any relaxed state he had is ripped away with a single name. “Brendan?” She nods. “Where did you see him? How?”

She seems taken back by his questions, and he hates bombarding her, but that fucker is one person that always will be able to get Joe to act out of character. 

She honestly offers more information than he was expecting. “I—today at the promenade out with my mom and sister. I get the sense my mom doesn’t like him, but Olivia seemed friendly. I guess they work together.”

Fucking Olivia….yeah, Joe’s definitely gonna have to bite the bullet and text her. Because in no way, shape, or form does he want that son of a bitch anywhere around his Ri. And the fact that he may even be a fucking attorney or lawyer blows Joe’s mind.

That creep should be the one in jail. 

“He’s not a good person, and he needs to stay the fuck away from you.” Before she can ask anything else, he tells her, “let me know what Everly says. If not, I’ll have a flight out tomorrow morning.” He’s definitely got to get her out of there now. He wants to put and keep as much distance between Mariella and Brendan as possible, and if she remembered just why they broke up, she’d want the same. 

Mariella nods. “I—I can call her now.”

“Do that.”

She swallows. “Okay.” Mariella opens her mouth and seems to hesitate for a minute. “Thank you, Joe.”

Her thanking him feels weird, because he’s never looked for that from her. Never really wanted it really. Just wanted her. Her love. Her trust.

Getting into that not so great place, he shakes his head, reminding, “just text me whenever you find out, I’ll keep my notifications on.

This seems to please her. “Okay.” She gives him another smile. Of a parting and appreciative nature. “Bye.”

“Bye.” She ends the call, and despite him deep down knowing he should wait until he’s calmed down a bit to message Olivia, Joe’s fingers seem to move faster than his brain. 

[ttulipwritezz]

King Of My Heart (Body And Soul)~ R. Lupin.

Chapter 2 -  Expectations

Ootp! Remus Lupin x Sirius's sister!Reader

Synopsis: When James and Lily died, and your brother was sent to Azkaban, Remus was the only person you have left. Until he left too. What happens when he returns after the events of Sirius's escape, only to find out you have a son? A son that's his.

WC: 1.4k

Warnings: lots of italics, probably grammatical mistakes, might be ooc idk, child (?), fem reader, italics are flashbacks ( idk), love (ew), Sirius is back, [ look at series masterlist for all content warnings]

A/n: This is more of the backstory and how they came to be, along with lots of awkwardness from both ends, I promise there's more remus in the next chapter <3 oh and reunion with Sirius and thanks to @lixzey for making me wanna push the awkwardness~ :) If you enjoyed this please reblog and comment :)

Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist, Navigation

You and Remus were in love, you had been in love for 6 years.

Everyone knew you'd be endgame, and your brother hated it, to an extent.

Sirius loved that his little sister was happy, that she had joy in her life after the roughness of their family life. But he was scared, scared because he knew how much Remus would push people away, push himself away.

He didn’t want you hurt. But you were.

~

You found out in October, two weeks before Halloween.

You had been talking with Lily through letters back and forth, discussing your recent morning nausea and sickness.

She had asked when was the last time you and Remus had slept together, strange you considered that question, you replied a week ago at most.

Her letter came back with the words "you might be pregnant, dear...why don't you take this potion i sent along?"

And along with it there was a potion in a small vial with a piece of parchment guiding you through the process.

All you had to do was drink half of the potion and wait for the other half to shift hues.

And sure enough, the once rust coloured potion soon turned blue, signalling your current state.

You were carrying Remus's child, a child you hadn't talked about, a child you were sure you weren't ready for.

~

It was now hallows eve, the day you thought you had worked up the courage to tell Remus.

Children around town had just finished trick or treating and your husband was bringing back the basket with remaining candy.

He came into the bedroom with you and went straight to the shower, promising to return in a bit.

Your eyes heavy with sleep, you sit down on the edge of the bed, waiting for Remus to come out of the bathroom.

He sees them on your trousers before in your eyes, your tears. His brows furrowed in concern and pity as he looked at your face, eyes dull with sorrow and fear, so uncharacteristic of your usual glimmer and joy.

"What's the matter, dove?" He asks, voice slightly hoarse from the drowsiness in the back of his mind.

You don't answer, only look at him like you're out of words. You're thinking, thinking what a little Remus would look like, how they’d have the same nose, probably his same freckles dusting their face, and the same sandy locks of hair with deep roots.

You wonder if he'd want this, a kid, if this could be the one thing Remus would give up the world for.

"Come here, darling" he says and takes your body into his, nuzzling your face in the warmth of his polyester sweater. He understands, he always does.

That's how you sleep that night, unaware of the chaos that was soon to follow.

~

Remus rushed out of bed the moment  the potter's deer patronus knocked on the window.

The white buck stopped at the foot of his bed and let out a call of help, soon disintegrating to mist after.

That night Remus lost three friends, you lost a brother to azkaban and you lost Remus.

He left the morning after. With your heart shattered to pieces, you let him go.

Your mind screamed at you to tell him. Tell him and maybe he'd stay. Tell him and maybe he'd reconsider. But your heart, ever the kind one, ever the selfless one, let him go. In hopes that one day you'd see him again.

Remus was half expecting you to slam the door in his face. To make a face of absolute disgust and just lock him out. But of course the other half of him was longing to hold you, see you after so long. So it came as a welcome surprise when you widened the door and let him inside.

 "Uhm...come in, please, we were expecting you" You said,  trying not to let your voice waver.

Remus felt so awkward. His hands were clammy, his posture was stiff and his jaw was clenched. He felt like he couldn't move, no more than if he had been hit with the petrificus curse.

You weren't in a much better predicament yourself. You could feel your eyes pricking with tears at the mere sight of him. The same man who left you. The man you let go. The man you still loved.

As he made his way inside the house you let your eyes roam across his figure. His hands were littered in large scars, far bigger than those you'd seen before. His face was shrunken, eyes hollower than you remembered. His smile lines were far more prominent now and his sandy brown hair had a few streaks of grey littered throughout.

"Where is the rest of the order? Where's sirius?" Why did you leave? Why are you back? How are you? You had so many questions but the rest were best kept to yourself.

 "They're on the way, I was just...early" I wanted to see you. 

Remus hated himself for leaving you. He wanted to tell you that. He regretted each night, even more so on full moons. After leaving the realisation of what he had done dawned on him, it was already  too late.

Alas, by the time he had worked up the courage to talk, You were already making your way across the hall to embrace your brother who had just arrived.

When did he get there? How consumed in his thoughts was Remus?

You greeted Sirius with a hug and a look-over of his whole figure. His posture was shrunken, eyes even hollower than Remus's and instead of his signature smirk, only a ghost of a smile was left on his face.

A feeling of guilt consumed you. Your brother was back after azkaban. Innocent. And your mind was all consumed by Remus.

You ushered the rest of the order inside and told Regulus to pack up his things and clear out the living room. The confused and curious glances you got from everyone did little to ease your nerves.

Sirius pulled you aside. You prepared yourself for the conversation you knew was to follow.

“Who’s that?” 

It was a valid question, Sirius was well aware that Remus had left that night. After their teary reunion, the werewolf had gotten an earful from the oldest Black. He was shocked and thought that  you had found someone new, unlike Remus, Sirius was quick to notice the similarities between the small boy and you. He deduced that he was your son.

“Uhm- He’s my son.”

You were staring at your feet, and your hands were fidgety.

There was a long pause. The silence was so loud you could hear the clock ticking.

“I…I have a nephew?” His words came out uncertain. Cautious and slow.

With a hum you replied “His name is Regulus. Regulus Jace.” You left out the last name. Legally he was a lupin. And so were you. But it wasn’t that hard to conceal that at hogwarts.

At the mention of his little brother, Sirius seemed to grimace. But he put a smile on.

“You named him after Reggie?-” He asked. And continued as you opened your mouth to answer.

“Who’s..who’s the father?” He didn’t want to assume the worst. He was happy, truely he was. After that “bastard” (as he put it) left you it was only fair. No matter how much he ached to see the two of you together again.

“It is Remus.” You replied, vulnerability lacing your voice.

His face seemed to light up, eyes widening, both in shock and delight. Before he would alert the whole house, however, you let him know one more thing.

“He doesn’t know. Neither of them do. I haven’t told them.” 

Your chest felt heavy, and your throat seemed to close up. It was hard for you to talk about. Despite being married you and Remus had never talked about kids, let alone with your friends. The feelings of contempt and guilt surrounded you.

Next thing you know, Sirius is pulling you in for a hug, securely wrapping his arms around you and trying to soothe your worries. His right hand wraps around your back as his left brushes against your hair in a calming manner.

It all comes crashing down. The weight of the lies, the guilt, the fear, the hatred. You cannot hold back the tears that rush down your face. A sob rakes though your body. You feel so much, everything, all at once, joy, relief, contempt, familiarity of an embrace.

But most of all...love. Love you haven’t felt in fourteen years.

Series Taglist (open): @twilightlover2007 @idli-dosa @lovesanimals0000 @deathbyramennoodle-s @deadgirlsrunning @lovelyypythoness General Taglist (open): @desikudisworld @iamgayforyourmom1510

Please Reblog if you liked this~

[bubblybloob]

Whoop I finished my reverse Damsel idea. I briefly discussed her in two other posts but I’m going to go further into her here with a better grasp on what she’s about

Pretty long ramble below, so watch out.

Basically, instead of warning her/resisting the Narrator in chapter 1, you, thinking you can’t overpower him, attempt to slay yourself. The Princesses stares at you in horror as you cut into your own neck (this is the route where you don’t initially bring the knife so she’s the more sympathetic version).

She attempts to wrench the blade from you because she has no idea why you’re doing this and doesn’t want you to die. Whether or not she gets the knife though doesn’t matter, because it’s too late and you die.

(Still am stuck on what sort of voice I want. Had a lot of suggestions on stuff like a Martyr sort of voice or one similar to the old Meek voice but the problem mostly stems from characterizing them in a different way to the other voices, which is something I can’t figure out given the situation).

Chapter 2 is titled “The Fae”.

The main room is primarily made of stone, with many unidentifiable chiseled metals and rock, but you don’t stay here for long, nor get given the option of taking the blade, as choosing to approach the blade or the basement will activate a trapdoor that will send you falling to your death. Just as you’re about to meet your demise, something grabs your palm. Looking up, you see the princess, swinging from the ceiling with you in hand.

The Fae is strange, originally she was going to be similarly shallow in nature like the Damsel, but I would compare her uncanniness more to the Razor, with a constant smile, eerie stare, and maybe an off putting voice.

She’s pretty blunt on what she wants, the satisfaction of saving you from this awful cabin and leaving together! Despite her more than ginger attitude towards you (she acts like you are made of glass), she’s actually quite egotistical, with her occasionally praising herself and puffing up whenever she receives applause from you.

She makes unintentional jabs at your incompetency and reminds you “it’s not your fault you’re not cut out for this, really! I’ll get us out of here my handsome corvid!” and sort of talks down to you and always acts like she’s the smartest in the room (and she probably is depending on what voice I make up for the route). She’s also weirdly fixated on your safety and goes above and beyond to protect you from even the smallest splinter, she’d act like you were dying if you got so much as a scratch.

(All of her traits are exacerbated to a worse degree in chapter 3).

Edit: I forgot to mention all of her behavior is inspired by the fae. I forgot that some people aren’t as well versed in fae lore. Fae are, from what I have heard, pretty selfish, manipulative, and possessive all while being downright ethereal, so I gave her a dose of all of those traits and toned it down a smidge.

Her appearance is also meant to be slightly unnerving. She has long elf like ears and eyes that are surrounded by shadow, with large black pits in the center of her eye that are impossible to tell if they are part of her pupil or not. She also gives off a very faint, white light, it’s almost imperceptible but it’s there.

Her dress is more of a skirt than anything with a sash that has long ribbon like ends that are every length all at once at any given time. They easily wrap themselves around objects even if it shouldn’t be physically possible, and she uses them to swing from the ceiling (spider princesses). Her “crown” is made up of a few translucent butterflies that seem attracted to her like magnets, occasionally they flutter about but usually they sit on her head.

I like to think that there are hints to the fact her butterflies aren’t real, just extensions of herself. They might flicker in and out of existence if she’s upset with you or stressed about something.

Another thing of note, like with some other princesses like Nightmare or Thorn or something, she has no chain. (Maybe there’s some creepy dialogue option where she reveals she broke it with her teeth or something more crazy).

Anyway, the princesses states that everything is fine and that this time around she’s going to be the one to rescue you. She fully intends for both of you to escape, and for you to just follow her lead, because she’s going to make sure you’re alright and that nothing will hurt you.

If you follow along she will save you from the dangers ahead, the basement of the cabin has been increased in size and there are rooms with rolling boulders, pits of spikes, etc. These sections aren’t too long, there’s probably like five explore options along with two or three choices you can make per room and there’s only like three of said rooms.

At the end she literally carries you out of the cabin and swings you around all like “We did it! I’m out and you’re safe! Not even a scratch on you, didn’t I do a good job?” Before mentioning how cold it is and getting taken to Ohio by the Shifting Mound.

There is another way this can end however. There are two potential ways to get to this I think.

If you keep questioning her when shes says something’s wrong at some point you get killed by some random trap while you’re distracted. You get killed and probably end up with the Skeptic.

If you don’t let her do the work and instead try to do too many things yourself you also eventually get killed by a trap and probably end up with Stubborn or Contrarian depending on your actions.

There might be a different third chapter that you can get to from another princess but idk what it would be so I’m sticking with the more direct continuation chapter.

You still don’t get the knife here and fall through another trapdoor. This time she doesn’t catch you and instead has already prepared something beneath where you fall to catch you. It’s probably just a plush room, somewhat reminiscent of the Stranger route’s soft stairs, but less existentially horrifying.

Here the princess thinks that maybe leaving the cabin with her is why you keep dying and so tries to convince you staying is the only option and that something bigger is trying to kill you off when you try to leave with her (she’s not wrong that there’s something bigger at play but she isn’t exactly right either). She’s too selfish to just let you leave without her even if her weird logic states that you’d be fine as long as she doesn’t leave with you, so all protests are shut down and she tries to force you if you complain.

If you got Skeptic there is the option of actually convincing her and that no matter what you’ll listen to her every word and you’ll escape together. She’ll listen and similar events to last time will play out, only this time the traps are deadlier but are made much more traversable due to the fact that she gives no fucks and will destroy every obstacle with ease. This time you actually leave and once again Ohio comes and gets her (I like to imagine The Narrator pulls the locked basement door trick and here she just punches through it and stares expectantly at you to turn handle from the other side with the newly created hole).

If you have Stubborn you can attempt to fight her. It probably won’t work at first because she’s the literal fae. But the Narrator, knowing you’re trying to fight now, will make the blade magically fall from the same trapdoor you fell from. And its iron touch can sizzle faerie skin. She doesn’t necessarily want to fight you, but if she has to rough you up some to get you to see things her way, she’ll do it. If you fuck up you’ll probably break something that you need to move or attack with and lose the fight, and she gets taken. If you don’t fuck up and win, same result except she’s got a knife in her chest when the mound comes and nabs her.

With Contrarian you choose to stay with her because funny boy wants to mess with the Narrator. I think maybe one of the traps somehow ends up infiltrating whatever “safe room” you’re in (probably because you’re thoughts spiraling on the thought of not actually being safe and dying again because that’s all you’ve done so far, so your perception kills you. Not sure what trap would kill you, maybe the rolling boulder crashes through the roof or something idk) and ends up fatally wounding you, making it the third time she couldn’t protect you, she stands over your body because “I had this planned, you should’ve been safe, how could this happen???” Before Ohio comes.

Whatever ending you get, she will make for a courageous heart.

I like to think you can kill her with Contrarian and get stuck with her with Stubborn, it’s just that they’d prefer and encourage you to do the opposite. The Skeptic is the only one where you can actually try to leave with her, again you can do the other options but having him is the only path where you can try to escape in the 3rd chapter.

I do have a 3rd chapter design in mind, but I’ll probably need to work on it some.

[velaenaa]

strawberry chocolate parfait \ nanami kento x reader (ch.1)

word count: 1.1k tags: slight slow burn, pining, romance, fluff, added as i go! setting: you are a worker at a bakery that nanami kento frequents ♡ authors note: hello ^_^ i hope you are doing wonderful! this is my first time writing for nanami. pls enjoy! chapter: 1/? <next>

Chapter 1 - Vanilla Cake

‘Does this guy need help….?’

‘He’s staring real hard at the bread…. Omg- is it ugly? Aw hell- I made that this morning…’ 

Your thoughts were cut off by the towering figure of a man, with two loaves of baguette in one hand and one container of cake, that happened to be your favorites, in the other. You smile up at him, “Will this be everything?” He gives a stiff nod, locking his eyes with yours, then you giggled; “Then.. I guess I'll bag-uette up for you..” 

No? No reaction..Damn, tough crowd.. 

He thanks you and you bid him farewell and to come back soon. You could’ve sworn he almost smiled… maybe that was a look of irritation..?

After he leaves eyesight, You make haste by sitting down behind the counter, face flushed with embarrassment and agony. It made you cringe. Why would you say that? Your coworker giggled at you, making sure to add salt to the wound, “You tried.. That’s all it matters.” she gives you a head pat and continues,  “He’s a regular here. He’s probably gonna come back in another couple of hours on his way home or something.”

“Then how come I’ve not seen him before?”

“Dunno.. He’s been away for a couple months now.” 

“What’s his name?”

“You should ask when he comes back.”

“Isn’t that weird?”

“Oh but asking some other random person, who doesn’t know him at all, by the way, isn’t weird?”

She has a point.

You looked down at your phone and idly texted your friend Nobara about your day and fashion related topics. 

You met when Nobara came down to the bakery to get some pastries for her boyfriend. You hit it off right away due to shared interests, albeit you being 7 years older. Nobara enjoyed having an older sister with an affinity for style, love for shopping, and interest in all the cool girl stuff that Maki wouldn’t normally talk to her about. 

Right now you two are discussing weekend plans. Nobara and her boyfriend Yuji, along with Megumi, and their teacher Gojo were going to a karaoke room cause it had been a while since Gojo had gone out with his students. He was stuck on oversea assignments for the past couple of weeks and he dearly misses them, or so he says. As always, you had been invited and of course you said yes! 

You are very fond of the kids and Gojo. The 3 of them reminded you of your siblings back home, and well- Gojo is Gojo. Plus, if you had declined, Gojo would pester you non-stop. 

-

After a mini rush, you sit  down, tired, ready to bite down into your sandwich, when on queue, the door swings open, revealing the tall blonde man, taking his glasses off as his eyes pierce you again. You wave at him and he just nods. You get a bag ready as the man collects another slice of the same cake he had bought earlier. He also got another dessert, this time, a small vanilla custard tart w/ fruits on top, made by yours truly. He comes up to the counter, and you stiffen up  in shyness, “Is this everything for you?”

The man looked tired, but he let out a soft, yet stern ‘yes.’

As you rang up his order you looked back up to him, your lips curling into a small grin, “How was work?” This caught them both off guard, “Oh- I didn’t- I didn’t mean to assume-” I mean.. Unless this guy enjoys walking around in a whole business suit for funsies.

He actually lets out a chuckle, “It’s okay. It was a busy day.” 

You both stayed silent for a second before he asked in return, “How was your day, miss?” This made you feel warm and your smile only got bigger, “It was wonderful! I got to serve a lot of customers. They bought their kids in. It was so fun.”

‘And cause you came into the shop twice.’

“Ah sorry.. I’m trailing. I didn’t mean to ramble- you must be dying to get home.”

‘No, I could get used to listening to you.’  is what he wanted to say;

Instead he lets out a relieved sigh, “It’s alright. I’m glad you had a good day today.” This caused your cheeks to tint red. Dying from embarrassment because you just knew that your coworkers were listening in, she redirects the topic, and points at the cake, “Do you like those?” He nods again, “They’re the best I’ve ever had. Compliment the baker for me.” Oh your heart, you could hear it beating so hard from your chest. 

You do a mental fist pump before clapping your hands with glee, “Oh I’m so glad you liked them!” You go around the counter and grab another slice just for him. You stared up at him in absolute awe, because behind the counter was elevated by at least a foot. 

This man was tall, as hell. 

He just looks down at you eyeing your move. You push the cake towards him even harder, “This one is on the house!” He tilts his head in question. You double down and nod your head, affirming the choice. He grabs hold of the cake with one hand, “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

‘Ask for her name Nanami’ He repeats to himself in his head

“What is your name?” She beats him to the punch. 

‘Have you lost your touch?’-- “Nanami”

“I really like your name. It’s beautiful! My name is Y/N.”

‘Y/N, huh.. What a nice name..’

You give him his bag as he recollects his thoughts, “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve got to get going. Work” You shoot him one last smile before waving him off, “Thank you for coming! It was nice to meet you! Don’t work too hard!”

An hour goes by and it's time for the bakery to close for the night. You turn the lights off as the ladies load up the delivery car with food that wasn’t sold for the day so they could give it to the local kitchens and homeless shelters. You bid your coworkers farewell before hopping into your car and collecting yourself, before driving home.

After you get home you jump into bed, eager to text Nobara. 

[Txt]  Y/N - “I met such a cute guy today!”

A second later there’s an audio msg from her of Gojo;

[Voice Recording] “Wahh?! Y/N I wasn’t there today!”  in a whiny bit.

You laugh as Nobara actually sends a text;

[Txt] Nobara - “Tell me all about it when you come to karaoke… matter of fact, he should come!”

But you just met.. How are you going to pull that off… and will he even want to go is the better question… what if he thinks you’re weird … oh lord… so many overthinking possibilities.. Ok but what if he actually says yes?

[Txt] Y/N- “Are you sure?”

[Txt] Nobara  - “Yeah! Gojo-sensei is paying anyway.”

[vikkirosko]

Feel free to reject but how about back when Stolas and Stella were together and he hadn’t met Blitzo again Stolas became close to Andrealphus wife.

She was also a arranged to marry Andrealphus at young age with the intent of a child being born and having a loveless and abusive marriage which is made worse due to the fact reader has a very low chance of being able to have children.

🦉 Stolas x fem!Reader headcanons Two unhappy hearts 🎩

After a loud scandal, it would seem that everything has returned to normal. Stolas and Stella were together again, but the relationship between them was finally destroyed. It would seem that the only reason they were still together was their daughter. Few people knew about it. Besides them, Andrealphus, Stella's brother, and you, his wife, knew about it. You've known Stolas for many years, since his wedding day. You used to have little contact with him, but now you have become a frequent guest at his house, even though you came there accompanying your husband

While Andrealphus and Stella were talking, you were sitting with Stolas. You were uncomfortable being around your husband and his sister, and Stolas saw it, so you spent time together. Stolas knew that there was no love in your marriage with Andrealphus, because of this you were in a similar position. However, you couldn't get rid of this marriage. Stolas did not know the reason, but during one of your conversations he accidentally mentioned it and immediately fell silent. He was afraid that his words might upset you, but you smiled gently at him and told him that the purpose of your marriage was to have an heir, but in all the years of your life together you have never been able to get pregnant. The doctors claimed that the chance that you would be able to get pregnant was extremely small and Andrealphus knew about it, but still has not divorced you because of his own pride

Your spouses did not pay attention to the fact that you began to communicate a lot, not even realizing that you had become very close. You hid your affair from the others and for the first time in a long time you were both happy. Stolas felt really loved by you. You were gentle and caring. You really loved him and Stolas didn't understand how Andrealphus could not see how wonderful you were. Stolas increasingly found himself thinking that he wanted you to be his wife and not Stella. He thought that if you had met earlier, you could have had a happy family, but now that his marriage was bursting at the seams and your marriage was in a similar state, so he could try to change everything and finally let two hearts be happy

You started discussing becoming a couple. To do this, you had to go through difficult divorce processes and the only thing that could help you was yourself. Stolas understood that Andrealphus would not let you go so easily, so he tried to think everything through. He tried to come up with a way to make the divorce at least as painless as possible for you, because if the affair with imp could eventually be forgotten, then if they find out about your relationship, then this scandal will not be forgotten soon

The last straw for Stolas was the bruise on your wrist. Andrealphus hurt you and he wasn't going to let it go like that. He made a real scandal, got very angry, and bluntly stated that he was not going to put up with all this anymore. Stolas decided to divorce his wife and help you divorce your husband, but in the meantime, to keep you safe, he offered you to stay in his house so that Andrealphus would not hurt you. You had a new chapter in your life ahead of you

[selfloverrrrrr]

The Fallen Angel~

Chapter 2

Masterlist , This Story Masterlist

( All characters are aged up/18+)

Minors Do Not Interact

Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report

Warnings : love, fluff, a lot of plots, smut , heavy smut, unprotected sex, Noncon, Kidnapping, physically and emotional abuse, biting, torture, size difference, fallen angel gojo....

Summary: Gojo Satoru was an angel. But instead of falling in hell accidentally he falls on earth and got a life like humans. Then the story begins....

The privious chapter

We finally reached the garden. But what was that...? All of our eyes widened. We've never seen this in our whole life. There was a man on the ground of our garden. But he wasn't like normal human. He looks like a normal human but it has two big white wings on it's back.

.

.

.

.

.

"Uh... hey...ummm hello? Who are you?" Geto asked. That creature looked towards us. He has the most beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen. "P-Please.... P-Please don't kill me.... I'm not any monster... P-Please help me" he sobbed looking at Geto. "It's... it's okey we're not gonna kill you..." Geto said. "W-will you help m-me?" That creature asked. "Yes we'll... can you tell us who are you?" Geto asked.

"I-I'm.... I'm an angel....h-he... He threw me out of heaven" the creature said. "Who is he...?" Geto asked. I put a hand on Geto's shoulder. "Geto, I don't think he's in a state to explain everything...we should bring him inside and clean him...he looks injured" I said. Geto nodded.

We bring him inside our house. There were some cuts on his legs. I was cleaning those cuts. Me and Shoko were there and the boys were in the other room discussing something. "So... what is your name?" I asked cleaning those cuts on his legs. "M-my...my name is Gojo Satoru" he said looking at me as if he was scared. "Really?... that's a very nice name!" I said smiling at him. "Thank you" he said smiling in joy. His fear was gone in a second...he was like a child. "Gojo Satoru?... I think I've heard that name before somewhere..." Shoko said. "Where?" I asked. "Tsk... can't remember" she replied.

"yeah... Gojo Satoru is really a nice name" Geto said. We saw Geto, Nanami and Haibara came in our room. There was a knife in Geto's hand. "Can you come here please...we wanna talk" Nanami said. Me and Shoko went to them. "What?" We asked. "We've to cut his wings" Geto whispered. "Wtfff...why??!!!" I asked. "Are you out of your mind?!" Shoko said. "Look try to understand!!! The royal family will kill him if they saw him and find out he's an angel or maybe gonna torture him!!!" Geto said. We all got silent. "But... it'll hurt him" I said. "And if they find out he's gonna get more hurt!!!" Nanami said. Again we all got silent. "Let me do it" Geto said and we'll went to Gojo.

Gojo looked at us with doe eyes. "W-what are you all doing?" He asked. "Nothing...we were talking about help you" Geto said and sit infront of him. "You all gonna help me??" He said it loudly with joy. "Ofcourse we'll" Nanami said who was sitting behind Gojo.

They both grabbed him tightly. "W-what are you doing?" Gojo asked innocently. But when he looked behind he saw a knife on his wings. 'a-are you gonna c-cut my wings...?" Gojo asked looking at Geto with panic. "P-Please don't... please stop" he begged. Geto tried to cut it. "PLEASE NOOOO....STOPPPPP!!!!" Gojo screamed. Geto jabbed on Gojo's Wing but didn't cut off. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" GOJO CRIED OUT. He was crying and sobbing now. "Geto stop!!!" I said and Geto stopped.

As Geto stopped. Gojo immediately got out of their grab and rush towards me. He hugged me. I hugged him back. "It's okey... it's fine" I said. "Please don't cut my wings...it hurts too much" he sobbed. "Don't worry... noone is gonna cut your wings" I said. " But what if the royal family find out??...we have to!" Geto said. Gojo's hug got tight as Geto said that. I can understand he was frightened. "I don't care... we're gonna handle it...you can see it's hurting him...we can't hurt him!!!" I said. "Fine..." Geto Singhed. "It's okey... you heard it... they won't cut your wings " I whispered stroking Gojo's hair. He finally stopped crying.

Chapter 3

[little-diable]

Saturn swallowing his son – Professor Aaron Hotchner (Profiling 101 Series, Part 3/?)

Chapter three, here we go! Promise there will be lots of smut (the next chapter is finally full of smut), but please show some love to this chapter which has barely any smut in it. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader enrolls in professor Hotchner's class "Profiling 101", a man she has always looked up to, a man who treats her like an asshole from day one. Will her need for academic validation manage to push the two closer together? Will her bright mind push her into the world of Aaron Hotchner and the BAU team? Will he manage to keep his distance before the world he tries to protect her from can get its grasp on her?

Warnings: none, just some typical CM talk

Pairing: Professor!Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader (3k words)

Profiling 101 Series Masterlist

Part One Part Two Part Four

If one of her friends had asked (y/n) what she was planning on doing this Sunday morning, she’d probably have replied with “Sleeping in”, perhaps she’d have told them she was planning on going for a morning walk, perhaps grabbing coffee at a store she frequented. But none of these things were now happening, instead (y/n) was sitting in a black SUV, right next to Professor Hotchner.

She had been awoken by her phone going off, indicating that a new email had been sent to her, eyes struggling to focus on the bright screen of her phone. Her heart had skipped a few beats as she had read the email professor Hotchner had sent her, asking her if she’d like to join him on a trip to the BAU. He had attached his phone number for her, asking her to call him, and as he had explained to her that they were discussing her idea at the BAU, she had began to hastily dress herself, telling him where to pick her up.

“Here, don’t lose this.” Professor Hotchner pushed a visitor’s card into (y/n)’s direction, watching her clip the card to a belt loop, nodding at him as they walked towards one of the elevators. Barely any words had been shared on the drive, relishing in the calmness this very Sunday morning offered the two, grateful that they wouldn’t have to force themselves through any uncomfortable smalltalk. 

“Is there anything I should be careful with, professor?” His dark eyes met hers, pondering over her words for a few seconds before he cleared his throat, having to force himself to stop looking at her. 

“You can call me Hotch while we’re here, (y/n).” The way her name rolled off his tongue left her trembling in surprise, swallowing the gasp wanting to rip through her. “For now all I need you to do is to be as observant as you can be, don’t hold back on theories, and put enough trust in yourself. You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t believe in your work.” An unfamiliar sense of pride thumped through (y/n)’s veins, not used to the professor praising her like this. She could only nod, not trusting herself to speak up, pressing her lips tightly together. 

Before either one could speak another word, the elevator came to a halt, exposing the parts of the BAU (y/n) had been dreaming of seeing with her own eyes for years. She followed the tall man, eyes taking in everything she could admire from afar, unable to bite down the excitement filling her body with every step she took. 

“I’ll introduce you to the team first.” He led her towards what appeared to be a conference room, eyes instantly drawn to the familiar faces of Spencer Reid and David Rossi. “This is (y/n), as I told you, she’ll assist us on this case.” 

“It’s good to see you again, (y/n). I’ve been waiting for you to find your way to us.” David Rossi shook her hand with a smile, making heat simmer inside of her, freaking out that the man could still remember her from all these years ago. She shook the hands of the others, not noticing how Aaron Hotchner kept watching her with a slight smile playing on his lips. 

“As (y/n) pointed out to me, the scenes have a very dramatic touch to them. (Y/n) said they remind her of Goya’s Saturn painting.” 

“The painting depicts Saturn swallowing his son. It was foretold that one of his offspring would ultimately usurp his rule. In order to thwart this prophecy, Saturn devoured his own progeny. He managed to consume five of them, yet Jupiter was destined to escape his father's fate thanks to his mother's clever ruse. She replaced the infant with a stone in swaddling clothes and presented it to her unsuspecting husband, who remained oblivious to the subterfuge. Many years later, Jupiter overthrew his father, thus fulfilling the prophecy. During this momentous event, Saturn regurgitated his children, along with the stone.” Spencer kept rambling on, sharing everything he knew about the painting and its history, instantly drawing (y/n) in as she couldn’t hide her amazement. She tried to remember every word that was shared, very well knowing that this was a chance she’d perhaps never get again.

“So, what? Our unsub is fascinated by Greek mythology?” The guy (y/n) and her friends had seen at the bar days ago, who had just introduced himself as Derek Morgan, cut Spencer’s rambling short, muscular arms crossed in front of his chest. For a few seconds they were engulfed by silence, eyes focusing on the pictures of the crime scenes. 

“Maybe he is reliving some childhood trauma? It wouldn’t be surprising if the unsub grew up in an abusive household.” (Y/n) watched Emily Prentiss pick one of the pictures up as she spoke, eyes zoning in on the wounds the victims bodies were littered with. 

“A study from the early 2000s shows that most serial killers displayed similar patterns of severe childhood neglect, patterns developed from birth through adolescence. Our unsub definitely knows about Greek mythology, perhaps a professor or a teacher?” A hum left the others at the information Spencer shared, though (y/n) couldn’t focus on the numbers, speaking up before she could stop herself from doing so. 

“I doubt it's somebody with an academic background, these scenes wouldn’t be as dramatic otherwise. But what about somebody favouring art? A painter?” Her eyes instantly flickered up to meet Aaron Hotchner's, the man who was already looking at her, giving (y/n) an encouraging nod, allowing her tense muscles to relax. 

“Garcia, cross reference people who are known as painters around the area, somebody who also shows up in reports from domestic abuse from the past thirty to forty years.” Aaron turned towards (y/n), speaking a soft “Good job, (y/n)” that left her heart skipping beats in excitement. 

……

“Thank you for driving me back.” Her words filled his dark SUV, voice kept quiet to match the calmness they were engulfed by. (Y/n) didn’t dare look away from the handsome man, knowing that she shouldn’t miss a single second fading by, not knowing if or when she’d ever get to share these moments with him again. 

“It’s on me to thank you, (y/n). You’ve done well today.” Only now did she begin to realise how close they were sitting, forearms about to touch, resting on the middle console. She couldn’t stop her eyes from flickering down to his lips, allowing herself to imagine him pulling her closer, softly kissing her as the rain kept pitter pattering down on the windshield of the SUV. 

For the first few seconds (y/n) wasn’t sure if she was only imagining it, but it seemed like Aaron was caught in the same thoughts as (y/n), slowly moving closer. Her heart roared in her chest, praying to whoever was listening that he’d close the distance between them, kissing her like she had hoped he would for years. 

(Y/n) could almost feel his breath on her cold skin, could almost pick up on the shaky breaths leaving him, but before either one could give in the sound of Aaron’s phone going off ripped them apart. His eyes grew cold once again, nodding towards (y/n) as if he was wordlessly saying goodbye, answering the call as he watched her leave the car, clothes instantly soaked through by the heavy rain. 

Disappointment flushed through (y/n), finding her way into her apartment with a sigh breaking through her. She couldn’t help but curse whoever had forced them apart, asking him to return back to the cold demeanour she was all too familiar with by now. 

Would he treat her the same way he had treated her for the past weeks in their upcoming class? Or would he treat her a bit kinder, just like he had done today? One question after another filled her mind, painting scenarios that’d leave her sleepless for hours on end. 

……

“Hi (y/n), it’s Emily Prentiss. Hotch told us you didn’t have any time to keep on working with us on the case, but the girls and I would love to grab some drinks with you if you're up for it?” (Y/n) had been staring at the text message for what felt like hours, rereading every word carefully, hoping that she wasn’t misinterpreting what Emily had texted her. 

Hotch told us you didn’t have any time to keep on working with us on the case – the words felt like blades piercing her heart, cutting deeper and deeper, about to rob her of her last breath. (Y/n) had to blink her tears away, not understanding why he’d tell them lies like this, actively keeping her away from him and the team. 

Ever since that moment in the car he had been back to his brooding self, cold demeanour keeping his distance from (y/n), not even looking at her once in class. She had gotten the memo, had instantly seen through the game he was playing, and yet she was hurt by it, not understanding how he could pull away this easily. Back then she had promised herself that she’d also keep her distance, not wanting to chase a situation this toxic, but now, two weeks later, (y/n) couldn’t help but give into the anger simmering deep inside of her. 

With a deep breath leaving her she tapped on Emily’s contact, calling the agent before (y/n)’s rational self could catch up with her actions. Within a few moments she and Emily had shared information about the whereabouts of the group, promising that she’ll be at the bar in a few, set on distracting herself from her heartbreak. 

……

“(Y/n)! It’s so good to see you!” Penelope was the first one to greet her, followed by Emily and JJ, hugging the women who had already ordered (y/n) her drink. And even though (y/n)’s system was still taken up by her anger, by the ever growing annoyance, she couldn’t help but feel grateful for the three women who treated her like she had been their friend for years.

“So tell us, what or who is keeping you this busy?” JJ’s eyes glimmered with mischief, oblivious of the hurt (y/n) had to fight against, expression growing sombre as they watched (y/n) avert her gaze, clearing her throat as if she was feeling awfully uncomfortable. For a second she pondered over her choices, and yet her pettiness spurred her on, parting her lips to reply with her eyes flickering between the three. 

“Uhm, I don’t know why he told you that I’m busy, I’m really not, but I guess he simply doesn’t want me around. I just wish he’d told me that himself.” With an almost pitiful expression thrown her way, Penelope wrapped her arm around (y/n)’s shoulder, pulling her closer. 

“I’m sure he has his reasons, maybe he simply wants to protect you. He can be very cold at times, but I promise, he means well, and you did help us a lot with the Porcelaine killer situation!” 

“He never told me what happened with the case, care to elaborate?” (Y/n)’s eyes kept flickering between the women, waiting for either one of them to tell her who the killer was. 

“It was an artist downtown, we found him through the Goya replicas he tried to sell. The victims all bought the pictures from him, it was some deep rooted family trauma he was guided by, since his father had always told him he’d never be as good as Goya.” With a sigh leaving (y/n) she nodded her head, barely listening to the words Penelope spoke to redirect the conversation. 

Emily’s words about Aaron kept ringing in (y/n)’s ears, even as the three women started to pour shots down their throats with (y/n) mimicking their movements. 

……

“(Y/n)?” Aaron Hotchner’s all too familiar voice rumbled through her, eyes focused on Penelope and Emily, unable to bite down her drunken chuckles. It took her a few moments to reply, struggling with her blurred vision and the way her surroundings kept spinning all too fast. 

“You know what, Hotch?” She slurred her words, breaking out in laughter as Penelope almost lost her balance, leaning onto Emily and JJ as they waited for their taxi to arrive. “You’re the biggest asshole ever, I take back my apology.” 

“Are you drunk, (y/n)? Where are you? Are you alone?” Concern dripped from his words, an emotion her drunken mind didn’t pick up on, attention torn between his words and her newfound friends. She wrapped her arm around herself, trying to shield herself from the cold as a hum left her, wondering what she should tell him. 

“‘M not, Emily, JJ, and Penelope are here, the ones you lied to, in case you forgot.” An angry huff left Aaron, she heard him shuffling around, wondering what he was doing, or where he was going. 

“Where are you? Send me your location, I’ll pick you up.” (Y/n) ended the call, barely able to focus on the screen as she sent him her location, unable to ponder on what was about to happen. She could barely concentrate on the words she shared with the three women, telling them that somebody else would pick her up and that she’ll text them in the morning. And within minutes, (y/n) found herself watching an all too familiar frame walk closer to her, wordlessly wrapping his arm around her shivering frame, guiding (y/n) towards his warm SUV.

“Why did you lie? You could have just told them you don’t want me around.” She whispered her words, interrupted by a yawn rumbling through her, sinking further into the comfortable seat. But her eyes didn't leave his frowning features once, wondering what he was thinking about, wondering how he was feeling about being around her once again. 

“It’s not that simple, (y/n).” Aaron Hotchner matched the tone of her voice, hands tightening their grip on the steering wheel. Her mind screamed at her to shut up, to let it rest before this conversation would spiral out of control, and yet (y/n)’s racing heart urged her on to keep on talking, to ask the questions that wouldn't let go of her for months on end otherwise. 

“I know you don’t like me, but it would have been nice if you’d at least told me that I won’t be able to help any longer, to my face.” A sigh left Aaron, teeth grazing his lower lip as he stared stoically ahead, clearly telling (y/n) that their conversation was over. With her eyes wandering to her window and a huff leaving her, she kept watching houses blur by, no longer recognising the area they were in, wondering where he was taking her to – a question her professor answered without her having to ask. 

“You’ll stay at mine for the night, I don’t want to leave you alone in your state.” Angry, drunken words wanted to leave (y/n), words that were silenced by the realisation of what was about to happen. With his hand placed on the small of her back he guided her into the apartment complex, stabilising (y/n)’s frame till they stepped foot into the dark living room. She swayed slightly as she kicked her shoes off, not noticing the amused glance he shot her, watching her struggle. “You can sleep in my bedroom, I’ll take the couch. It’s the last door down the hallway, I’ll bring you some water in a minute.”

“I should take the couch, but you deserve to wake up to some back pain.” A laugh clawed through Aaron Hotchner as he turned from her, missing the sight of (y/n) disappearing down the hallway. With a deep breath being exhaled, he poured her a glass of water before he made his way to the bedroom, freezing in his step as his eyes found her frame, cuddling further into his comfortable pillows. 

“Here’s some water, do you want a shirt to sleep in?” She could only tiredly nod her head, hands working on her top, not caring that her professor was in the room with her, shuffling out of her clothes till she was only wearing her underwear. He had turned from her the second his mind had picked up on what she was about to do, wordlessly pushing the shirt of his into her direction without looking at (y/n) once. “I’ll be back in a few.”

She watched him leave the room with hurried steps, unable to stop her drunken chuckles from leaving her as she fell back against the mattress. The soft shirt she was now wearing smelled like him, a scent she’d always recognise, no matter how much she tried to pull herself away from the grasp her crush on him had on her heart. Years ago she had fallen prisoner to Aaron Hotchner, to the mere thought of him, mere images that were further from the truth than she had originally anticipated.

“Do you need something else?” With tired eyes she watched him approach once again, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a black shirt. She silently prayed that she’d never forget this very moment, the almost domestic feeling the sight of him shot through her. No longer could she guide the words rumbling through her, no longer could she stop her body from acting on the actions she’d curse herself for in the upcoming hours. 

“Stay?”

[ohnococo]

Fight Night | CHAPTER 8 | MMA Fighter!Sukuna x Reader

Aoi Todo calls Sukuna out publicly, and it leads to a very uncomfortable discussion between you and Sukuna.

Warnings: Uncomfortable conversations, reader is slightly upset, kissing, fingering, biting, (light) pussy slapping

FIRST CHAPTER

LAST CHAPTER

From time to time, curiosity gets the better of you. It’s happened before with Sukuna, when you went without talking for months, and again when he alluded to his previous opponent being a bit of a wildcard. You could just ask him about these things now, of course, but sometimes you wanted to see how he was viewed through the eyes of others. You wanted to compare what the world thought of him to what you were coming to know of him.

As for this particular subject, Aoi Todo, you really just felt like it might be too awkward to bring it up. Not right now, at least, when things seemed to be going so well. Sukuna hadn’t brought him up since the video you’d watched together, only occasionally making vague references to training or “the fight.” So you look for information on him yourself to satisfy your curiosity, making the choice to try and avoid anything that might mention Sukuna’s brother, if they really were still training together like Sukuna had suspected. That was something you’d rather hear from the man himself.

It turns out it’s easy, with nearly no mention of the boy save for a site with an article about the Todo, where he briefly mentions training with his best friend. You see a picture of them together among many pictures of Todo and his coaches in a gym and wonder just how two siblings could seem so different, even just from a photo. The way he smiles brightly, looking hopeful, makes you wonder if Sukuna had ever smiled like that.

As you back out of the site, your search refreshes as hot news repopulates the top results. Articles referencing a recent interview with Todo, topped with pictures of the young man smiling and looking victorious next to pictures of Sukuna looking as terrifying as he always did in these promo pictures. It makes you cringe, but you know Sukuna is a sort of villain to a lot of these people with the way he broadcasts that he has no respect for those he perceives as weak, ready to be a winner at all costs - even if those costs are unnecessarily serious injury to his opponents.

He appeals to the masses in his own way - not a kind but strong hero with a flawless record of good sportsmanship, but someone to split the crowd into a dissonance of boos and cheers as he walks out and towards the ring. Someone to make fans nervous for even the best of the best when they faced him. And apparently, someone with whom Aoi Todo has quite personal beef.

You read through one of the articles, seeing his sentiments translated. Seeing that he’s promised to beat Sukuna to a pulp, for his best friend, his brother, whom Sukuna abandoned as a teen when he had no one else. He proclaims that the boy’s hope could not be crushed, and that he will one day join him in the same organisation. Big words from a newcomer. Big words about a man who, according to the article, has apparently gone through his lengthy and illustrious career without bringing any of his personal life into it. Until now.

It turns your stomach, it confuses you, it makes you want to ask Sukuna a million questions, but you know this little media frenzy over a blurb like that is only one of many sides to a story. You know you don’t feel comfortable bringing up a subject like this either, so you sit there regretting having looked it up in the first place, not liking this information festering in your mind. Not liking that you’d have to push it aside for dinner at Sukuna’s house in only a few hours.

When you arrive at his house he seems to be in his usual spirits, and you wonder if maybe he hasn’t seen the news. Then, as he takes you to his dining room after giving you your usual praise over what was becoming your typical (and much more comfortable) attire around him, you find that you’re grateful for Uraume’s momentary presence. It gives you something to focus on other than what you’re choosing to pretend you don’t know.

It also gives you something to focus on other than how Sukuna’s eyes narrow at whatever was different enough about your behaviour over just a few minutes to clue him in to you being off.

“Wow, Uraume, you actually can cook.”

Uraume is setting dishes down in front of you both, hair pulled back in a low ponytail, shorter locks kept from their face by a thin elastic headband. They shoot you a look, apparently unimpressed by the sass in your compliment.

“Of course I can, I’m not taking Sukuna’s money for nothing.”

“Okay, okay,” you relent, having meant the remark to be targeted at Sukuna’s eating habits rather than Uraume’s skills, “it smells delicious.”

Braised short rib, a healthy portion of roasted vegetables, coconut rice - you were starting to feel bad for your little running joke about Sukuna’s gym food.

“Thank you.” Uraume takes the compliment, hard feelings quick to dissipate as they now knew what to expect from your humour as much as you knew what to expect from their chilly demeanour.

They look to Sukuna, apparently waiting for his approval as well, but his eyes are locked on you, suspicious. Instead of waiting further, they clear their throat, “Will you need anything else?”

Sukuna finally completes his lengthy appraisal of you, focusing on Uraume with a little more warmth, “No, thank you Uraume, have a good night.”

They nod, dismissing themselves to clean up the kitchen, intending to leave shortly afterwards.

You grab your wine, lifting your glass in an invitation to cheers, hoping the food and conversation would steer your mind from the comment you were trying not to think of. Sukuna lifts his own glass of water, clinking it against yours before you make your toast to the only thing you can think Sukuna would feel was worth celebrating.

“To beating this Todo guy’s ass.”

He lets out a little laugh at that, just the smallest huff of air through his nose, and his shoulders drop a little. Though you still see the remnants of that suspicion there, you’re happy to get on with the evening as you both take a sip of your respective drinks.

Once you’re forced into silence by eating, other than you giving your praise to Uraume yet again even in their absence, you find yourself confronted with that look on Sukuna’s face.

He chews his bites slowly, looking you over, and it’s been some time since you’d felt like he was peering into your mind like that.

“You’ve seen what he said.”

Your cheeks are hot, like you’ve been caught with your hand in the cookie jar, like it’s a crime to look up a public figure. Although it was perhaps a grey area to search for so much surrounding a public figure you happened to be dating.

“I just got curious…”

He leans back in his chair, eyes still on you as he takes a long drink of his water, unrelenting even as you get increasingly uncomfortable under his gaze. Then, he shrugs, as if dismissing the tension outright, “It’s fine.”

His words are one thing, but you’ve come to know him well enough to see that his broad shoulders still don’t fully relax as he brings his fork to his mouth again, speaking before he takes his bite, “Although I don’t care for my business being out there like this.”

You understand how it could be invasive, then worry that he thinks you’ve been invasive too, finishing your own mouthful of food in a rush before you clarify. “That’s all I saw, I didn’t search for anything else.”

His brow quirks, lips falling into a line as he looks displeased that you’re lying to him. “I know you’ve looked me up more than once.”

If you looked a little embarrassed before, now it must be even more obvious, wondering just how he knew. He catches that surprise easily.

“You’ve let it slip before.”

His words have you wracking your brain for when you’d played it much less cool than you’d thought, and something in your face makes his expression soften. A small smile has his eyes crinkling as he takes another drink, apparently enjoying some part of revealing his hand, even if all that hand contained was the knowledge that you thought about him much more often than you let on.

You shake your head, pushing aside the several tangents he’d inadvertently sent your mind on before returning to your original point.

“No, I mean I didn’t look anything else up about your brother.”

Sukuna’s smile freezes, just for a moment, before his face returns to that uncomfortable brand of neutral that seemed to be conjured up when this subject came up. He looks through you as he speaks, “You wouldn’t find anything anyway.”

“I… that’s-“ you push food around on your plate, “well I’m glad not all of your business is out there.”

“Don’t mince words with me.” His tone is stern, broadcasting that it’s an expectation he’s set for you that’s much closer to a demand than a suggestion. Like he expects better.

“I’m not.”

“You are,” this isn’t how you want him to open up, with venom in his voice, “one question.”

Your brow furrows and you wait for this one question of his, then he sighs and clarifies.

“You get to ask me one question about it, then I don’t want it brought up again.”

The clang of metal against glass is louder than you’d like it to be in this room, as you set your utensils down on your plate, sitting back in your chair as you look everywhere but at Sukuna. “I don’t want to pry…”

“Yes you do.”

He can read you far too well now for you to tiptoe around anything, so you just ask your question. “Why don’t you talk to your brother anymore?”

There’s another silence, another step further back into Sukuna’s mind, then he answers. “I started fighting because I had to. And I was good at it. He started fighting just because I did. I wouldn’t support it.” He flicks his hand, in a ‘there it is’ gesture, as if he had really answered much of anything.

“He wanted to be like you?”

Sukuna’s eyes narrow, and you know you’re bordering on stomping over, rather than tiptoeing around the subject as you had been before, but the question is out there and he’s answering it.

“He’s nothing like me.”

“Why don’t you-“

“Enough.” He’s far from shouting, but there’s a power behind his voice that has your hairs standing on end immediately, heart racing as you feel a small chill on the back of your neck. “You’re overstepping.”

It’s cold, bordering on angry. A tone you’d heard him use many times with others on your nights out, but never ever with you. You know you’ve pushed your luck, and now you know feel both wrong for that and wronged for the sharpness of his words. Your tells are showing again, something you only realise when Sukuna’s face moves from forcibly neutral to surprised.

He says your name then, low and even, and it’s like you’ve had cold water poured on you. “I haven’t dealt with this. So I certainly won’t deal with it with you.”

It’s as if he means it as a platitude, but it only hurts more that he won’t let you help, even if it was just to listen. But you nod as if accepting it as an end to the conversation, and so does he.

For the first time since he’d suspected something was up, he looks away from you, and it makes you feel like you can breathe again. His shoulders relax, and he closes his eyes and sighs heavily, looking suddenly tired.

“I didn’t invite you here to talk about this, I invited you here to enjoy a meal and to ask you to watch my fight.”

“Oh.” This time the change in subject is welcome, otherwise the tension in the room alone might just suffocate you. You’d already planned to watch it, of course. “I mean, yeah, there’s a few bars by my place that show the fights live.”

“No, I mean do you want to come to watch me fight.”

“Oh… yes.”

He tilts his head down slightly while looking up at you, as if he’s trying to appear as non-threatening as a man like him could. “I’d like that.”

You’d be outright giddy if this had come prior to the conversation you’d just had, but your excitement isn’t too stifled to stop you smiling at him, “Me too.”

It helps put a salve over the tension of what had just happened, though you still feel uneasy for the rest of the dinner. When you bring your eyes up to watch Sukuna across the table you can’t help assessing, and reassessing his demeanour. He seems fine, like that uncomfortable conversation had been buried, but you’d be lying to yourself if you said it had been for you as well.

He catches this of course, sliding his hand next to yours on the table, placing one finger on top of the back of your hand and tracing along your knuckles. He keeps the conversation light for the evening. Your life this week, your plans for the next, when those plans could align with his increasingly rigorous schedule. You eat, you talk, and youdo happily make those plans, telling yourself that you just needed to sleep the unpleasantness of tonight off.

When it’s time to leave you’re grateful for the night being cut short for different reasons than you’d thought you would be. Initially, dinner on a work night when you had to get up early seemed like a good idea if only because you wouldn’t be able to linger in his home and do things you didn’t need to be doing. Instead, you were happy to leave just to have a chance to clear your head.

It doesn’t stop you kissing him at his door before you go, arms around his neck and clinging to his shoulders gently. With how high you were on your tiptoes, and how far you were leaning back to accommodate his kisses, you’d be in danger of falling backwards if he weren’t holding you in place by your hips. He keeps a distance between your bodies despite the firm grip and thumbs rubbing circles into your hips, though you do think of pressing yourself to him once or twice, wanting the confirmation that your lips on his affected him just as much as it affected you.

When you pull back, lips swollen and a little dizzy, you don’t need to feel it, when you can see it in his face - eyes sparkling with want even through his heavy lids and thick lashes.

You take his face in like this for some time, using it as a weight to tip the scales away from your previous discomfort, then finally blink the haze of lust from your eyes as he breaks the silence.

“Text me to let me know you’ve gotten home safely.”

“I will.”

Once you arrive home you start to do just as he’s asked, even typing out the words, “I’m home.” But leaving things with this pit in your stomach and the unsettled tension has you thinking back to the only other time you’d felt like this since you’d known Sukuna: when you thought you’d never see him again. So you delete the words in the unsent text, instead sending:

call me please

He does. Right away. You answer and he speaks first.

“Is everything okay?”

It catches you off guard, hearing him sound concerned. “Yeah, I’m home now.”

“Ah.”

“About tonight…” you trail off, half expecting some interjection but when there is none you continue, “I don’t want you to speak to me like that again.”

This time you let the silence hang longer, until he has to meet you where you are and respond. “Fair enough.”

“I hated how that made me feel. I felt like I was just some lackey-“

“You’re not-“

You cut him off, having to get everything into words before it eats you up from the inside, “Like you were telling me to know my place or like you were just going to throw me away if I didn’t.”

It feels like a lot, like too much, but it was just how you felt.

Sukuna is silent again, before speaking slowly, emphasising each word and making sure you really hear him. “You are not some lackey. I would not throw this away.”

Then he sighs, and you can hear his heavy footsteps as he moves through his home. “You could have told me this while you were here.”

He’s annoyed, but there’s an affected calmness in his voice that lets you know he meant it as a way to lighten the mood. Then, you hear the jingle of keys and sit up a little straighter.

“Now I have to drive over there.”

You barely have your door open, just the handle turned and an inch of space revealing Sukuna before he’s pushing the door all the way open and coming in, leading with his lips on yours. Your arms are around his neck and once he’s swung your door closed behind you he’s lifting you up and into his arms.

His tongue is hot on yours, and his cock is already straining in its confines as he wraps your legs around his hips, walking you through your home. He takes a wrong turn, heading towards the kitchen, before you manage to separate your lips from his long enough to gesture the opposite way and towards your bedroom.

He doesn’t get the chance to meet your lips again as you lean away, having a moment of clarity in the excitement of him needing to see you so badly after your talk, “Wait, what are we doing?”

“We aren’t doing anything. I’m showing you just how I’ll put you in your place. Properly.”

You don’t know exactly what that means, but from the joy peeking through his smile you do know it’s got a heat blooming within your body.

Then, you find that his proper way of putting you in your place involves stripping you down, something you allow him to do as you’re pulled and pushed along with your clothes coming off, before he’s pushing you down onto your bed. You lean on your elbows, watching him kick off his shoes and waiting for him to unveil his body to you, but he doesn’t. He tugs at your ankles just enough to have you flat on your back again, and climbs on top of you, kissing you, hands groping at your body, pinching at your nipples and groaning into your mouth as you whine and gasp for him.

He props himself up on one arm as he settles next to you, eclipsing the light above as he pushes his hand between your legs. You spread them, accepting his rough fingers sliding through your folds with a moan and a laugh bordering on manic.

“So eager…” He chuckles wickedly at your enthusiasm, circling your entrance as he licks at your open mouth. “Just because I’m not fucking you doesn’t mean you can’t fuck this pretty cunt yourself.”

His touch drives you mad as always, as he dips his fingers for just a moment before pulling them back out to smear your wetness over your pussy. Though it hasn’t left you so far gone you can’t bite back, “I’ve taken care of myself plenty.”

Skilled fingers find their way back inside you, delving deeper, hooking and stirring you up already as he lets the sounds of your pussy speak for themselves. Not for long as he can’t help feigning pity as he looks down on you with your fluttering lashes and wet, moaning mouth.

“Not like I can, hm?”

There’s no opportunity for you to respond, save for with a squeal of delight as he moves fast, fucking you with his fingers, palm slapping at your clit until you’re bringing your knees up as he tugs your orgasm out of what felt like nowhere.

Then, he pulls his fingers out, rubbing at your pussy, just enough firm pressure on your clit to have you clenching for him.

“Fuck,” you want more and you want it quickly, rubbing up against his hand and chasing your high one way or another, “well it’s easy for you.”

You give him that as you lean your head up to capture his lips again. Appealing to his ego, appealing to your need to have him at least keep kissing you if he wasn’t going to make you cum just yet. He kisses back with a force that leaves your body weak as you sink back down, mouth wet and tongue hot before he’s separating from your lips enough to kiss a path down your face and to your neck where he sucks and bites harshly.

You know he’s leaving little love marks, and you don’t care, shivering when he whispers low against your skin, “You don’t make this easy for me.”

He buries his face between your neck and shoulder, biting hard enough to leave you yelping as he slides his fingers back inside you, working you up more slowly this time, groaning out a low, “but I try.”

Sukuna’s movements speed up then, and you’re tangling your hands in his hair - petting his undercut as he gets you closer, then sliding your hands up to tug at the roots as his palm slaps against your clit and you see stars.

“If you ask me to fuck you I will.”

It takes you a moment to even process that he’d spoken, with you dangling so close to the edge. You have to think on it, licking your lips, trying not to let your pussy do the thinking for you. It’s hard, your mind is scrambled already, and you put your hand on his wrist to stop him so you can try and form a coherent thought, even if it rips another orgasm away from you for the moment.

It doesn’t deter him at all, movements steady, though he does place a wet kiss to your neck before speaking low in your ear, “Either way you’re going to cum for me.”

You can accept that much, releasing his hand, pussy clenching his fingers lightly as you feel his lips curl into a smile against your skin. He looks down, watching your pussy swallowing his fingers again and again, watching the way your thighs jiggle and twitch with the intensity of an end you hadn’t even met yet.

You don’t want him to look away right now, even if it’s to admire your body and the things he can do to it, so you hold his face in both hands, kissing his forehead. He looks at you then, slightly taken aback, like you’ve put his mind on ice. His arm is far from frozen though, as he keeps pumping his fingers into you, maybe even faster than before.

“Kiss me.”

The words are barely out of your lips before he’s complying, lips on yours, this time only the tip of his tongue brushes against yours and it’s the final straw that sends you over the edge. You raise your hips into his movements, moaning, panting, making a mess of his fingers and the sheets below.

Once the intensity ebbs, he pulls his fingers out, tapping your pussy firmly enough to leave you gasping as you clench your thighs around his hand to at least steady it. His lips are still on yours the whole time, drinking in your sounds, smiling against you as you whine and laugh when he goes back to rubbing at you firmly but gently.

He gives you a final peck, then another, then another before he leans back, resting his head on his hand as he peers down at you. He makes no effort to extract his hand from your still clenched thighs, and once he slides two fingers back inside of you, keeping them nestled and smiling at the odd twitch of your spent walls, you relax your legs and let them fall open on the bed.

“Feel better?”

You stare at the ceiling thinking, then look back at him incredulous. “Did you really just bust in here to finger it better?”

He sighs, pursed lips barely hiding amusement at your choice of words, ignoring your questions in favour of reiterating his own. “I’ll make you cum til you’re crying and calling in sick to work if you want?”

You did want, just a little, but you know you have things to do in the morning, and so does he. So you just laugh and slap his arm lightly, “Yeah I feel a lot better.”

He smiles, proud, happy, maybe even beaming. “Good.”

CHAPTER 9