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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 5 months

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What The Heart Wants || Young President!Coriolanus Snow x Reader

GIF by @aemondtargaryen divider by @firefly-graphics

Summary: This marriage was nothing but unhappiness. You always felt like you lived in the shadow of Lucy Gray. But you try to pretend, pretend that this marriage was everything you could have ever dreamed of.

Warnings: little detail of smut

Wc:

Coriolanus Snow Masterlist

Your fingers play with the ends of your dress that your mother insisted you wear. In your opinion, the dress was abit too tight, short, and the neckline a tad bit lower than what was deemed appropriate for a simple get together with the President, your fiancé.

“Smile Y/n, Smile.” Your mother urges with a forced smile as you roll your eyes. The door suddenly opens as your mother and father immediately stand up. You let out a huff before standing up as well as Coriolanus Snow in all his glory walks in.

He doesn’t even spare your parents a look or you for that matter. He just sits down on the armchair beside yours with a huff. You watch him as he rolls up his sleeves, he had yet to speak. “Lovely too see you again, Evangeline, Festus, and Y/n” He politely nods.

His voice was stern, cold. “Likewise, President Snow, likewise” You mother grins widely, her tone sickly sweet. “Please, call just call me Coryo. You are to be my in-laws soon. Best to cut the formality early on,” He voices out as he leans over and pops a grape in his mouth.

Your knees were crossed as you stare down at your hands. Snow turns his head, finally looking at you. You could feel his gaze from your peripheral vision. A sudden kick to your shin made you groan out loud as your mother gives you a death glare.

Clearing your throat, you face Coriolanus. “What colour do you plan to wear for the wedding day? So you know, I can match,” He stares hard at your face, studying every detail. “White.” Is all he said before facing your parents again as he starts conversation with them on a topic you couldn’t care less about.

Snow had always been cold towards you from the moment the two of you started courting each other. It wasn’t a marriage for love, it was arranged. Coming from a high born family in the Capitol, disciplined to be the perfect wife, you were a perfect candidate to become First Lady.

And not to forget how close your parents and his parents were before they died. Coriolanus had changed when he came back from exile. He was no longer the sweet boy you used to remember.

He was now driven with power and authority. You never asked him questions about the details of his exile as peacekeeper during the times you would spend together. He would merely brush it off and tell you never to ask him about it again.

You were never one to listen to Capitol gossip but there were whispers going around about how Snow was in a relationship with his tribute, Lucy Gray. And that she ran away from him just before he returned back. You remember seeing the two together on camera, there always seemed to be a certain chemistry between the two that not much people paid attention to. But you.

He seemed completely closed off when you first met him after his banishment. He was always drifting in and out of reality. You had a feeling he wasn’t over Lucy Gray. No matter how much she hurt him for leaving.

“Coryo,” Your voice was gentle as you place a hand on his arm. He was out of it again. “She asked what flavour cake you wish to have,” You slowly say as his eyes were stuck to the wall behind the woman sat across from them. “Whatever flavour you want.” He shrugs. Before you could open your mouth again, he beats you to it.

“Is this really necessary? I have other important things to be doing right now.” He snaps, unfolding his sleeves as he gets ready to get up. You furrow your eyebrows at him as the woman starts to pack up the papers on the table before you stop her.

“Coryo, you told me you cleared your schedule today.” You fold your arms as he buttons up his jacket, looking at you. “I’d rather be home than here.” And with that, he doesn’t spare you another look and walks away. You watch his figure disappear as you sit back down, defeated.

“Should I continue without President Snow?” Your eyes move to the lady awkwardly sitting there. “Yes, yes you can continue,” You sigh. This was the third time Coriolanus blew these meetings off. Both of you despised the idea of getting married, especially to one another. But it had to be done. For duty.

“Oh you look absolutely gorgeous, my love. You’re going to be the prettiest woman Coryo has ever laid eyes on.” You scoff, downing the liquid down as you get ready to walk down the aisle. “Remember, smile!” Your mother points to her smile as you roll your eyes and link arms with your father.

The doors opened and the crowd gasp. You looked ethereal. Perfect. Doll-like. You smiled like you were taught to do and walked with such elegance and poise. Snow’s back was turned to you, but the moment he turned around, you swore you couldn’t breathe for a second.

Coriolanus’ hands were cold against your warm hands. His piercing blue eyes studied your face as words around you drown out. “You may now kiss the bride.” Coriolanus leaned in as did you and your lips touched. The kiss was gentle and didn’t last long. You could tell he was reluctant to kiss you.

He then smiled brightly, turning to face the crowd and your mother’s words come rolling in. Smile. Pretend you’re happy. You both had to act like you were infatuated with one another for the rest of the day until you arrived at Snow’s mansion. Your new home.

The moment you walked through the doors, the façade was over. Coriolanus made a beeline to his study where he slammed the door shut as you stand alone in the hallway, still in your wedding dress. Exhaustion caught up to you so your heavy footsteps led you to your shared room with him.

You were helped out of the dress by servants. The silk slip soft on your skin as you let your hair loose. It was quiet. Too quiet for yo ur liking. You sat at the end of the bed for some time, thinking about everything and anything until the door abruptly opened revealing Snow.

He paused when he saw you, almost forgetting that you two were married now and were going to be sharing the same bed from now on. He sighs before closing the door behind him.

He starts taking his jacket and long sleeve off. “Why aren’t you asleep” He voices out, his back turned to you as you watch his back muscles flex. “I’m not tired,” You said, barely a whisper as Snow turns around, his eyes trained on you. “Suit yourself,” He said before entering the bathroom.

You decided to move up the bed and lean against the backboard of the humongous bed that you and Snow will be sharing. You played with your fingers the entire time Coriolanus was in the shower.

You hear the water jets stop and he steps out, towel hanging around his hips as he has another towel drying his platinum blonde hair. He gets dressed in just boxers before making his way to the bed. He turns off his bedside light and lays on his back. You were still leaned up on the backboard.

Coriolanus then leaned over you and turned your bedside light off before sleeping on his side, back towards you. You stared at the back of his head for a while. “Coryo…” You softly say. You knew he was awake. “Coryo.” You say once again, your hand gently on his shoulder as he sigh and turns to lay on his back. “Y/n. It’s been an exhausting day. Can this possibly wait until tomorrow” He snaps.

“No.” You say in a firm tone that was abit too loud. You took yourself by surprise as Snow raises an eyebrow at you. “We’re married now.” Your tone was bitter. You were becoming just as frustrated as he was with you. A long due reciprocation.

“I’m aware.” He flatly stated, his eyes shifting away from your body to the ceiling. You sensed his unsatisfactory behaviour towards you, and you felt, a feeling that you had become very familiar with recently. Vulnerable. Coriolanus did not want you one bit. You knew that.

But you wanted to atleast pretend that you were going to spend the rest of your life with someone who loved you. But he couldn’t. He just couldn’t do it. A part of you understood that this was obviously wasn’t ideal for either parties, but you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed, like you weren’t enough.

You were always hit on by other eligible males in the Capitol, but when it came to President Snow, you weren’t even remotely spared a glance. So, you decided that tonight, your honeymoon night, to pretend that there is as much passion as you needed to make you feel as though you were marrying the man of your dreams.

“Look at me.” You demanded, watching as Coriolanus beside you slowly tore his eyes away from the ceiling to bore into your face. “Coryo,” You began, moving from the backboard to get closer to him. You leant into him, foreheads touching. You could feel his breathing stagger, his breath began to tremble as if he was straining tears.

"Please," Your grabbed his face desperately, almost beginning to start sobbing yourself, as if your bodies being this close to one another transformed them into one big, contagious product of unfairness and agony—indulging in one another helplessly.

"Please, Coryo, pretend I'm her," you never once thought in your life you would have to beg for a man to worship you the way he did another—before courting the President of Panem, you would have ques of eligible men at your feet—not even having to raise a finger.

"What?" He mumbled back, an unconfident whimper, his eyebrows furrowed—casting a shadow over his vacant eyes, causing his piercing blue eyes to darken.

"I never though I'd have to say this, but " You breathed out, placing a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose, "Pretend I'm her, pretend I'm Lucy Gray Baird. Even if she broke you, atleast you felt something for her." Your voice cracked as the nonchalant popular girl of Panem facade you’d spent your entire life up keeping, having Snow as a publicity accessory, had shattered in his grip.

Coriolanus didn't know what to say. He had never seen you in this state. You didn't know, but he watched you all the time through the cameras around the mansion and around Panem. Snow barely knew how to express his emotions adequately himself, let alone watching you break down.

You were in pain. As if you were swallowing back acid. "I just want to feel loved," You trembled. This was all so new to you, expressing your feelings, confiding to someone. "Even if it takes you having to think about someone else to make me feel like it.l And so, Snow silently agreed.

He took the invitation of being allowed to think about Lucy Gray in his embrace if it made you feel better. Selfish to an extent, but technically, what you wanted from him was equally so. As long as he appreciated your body as if it were a relic, to make her feel something, he'd be able to fantasise about the one thing he'd usually feel guilty about thinking. Lucy Gray crushed his heart. His soul.

Yet he couldn't stop thinking about the girl who betrayed her. And so, you mollified into him as he embraces your frame, kissing you the same way he'd been musing about doing so with Lucy, if he were to ever get the chance again.

Both your tears were the supplement of real passion, the dampness on your faces resembling sweat as tears fell between each aggrieved, desperate kiss.

More desperate, more intimate. You knew what Coriolanus wanted, and you gave in. You allowed him to see Lucy Gray through your eyes. And although they were a completely different colour, Snow swore he saw her eyes gazing back at him for a millisecond; and that was motivating enough.

Now you were both in pieces, too bad puzzles aren't taught how to piece themselves back together.

#fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #hunger games #tom blyth #lucy gray baird #lucy gray x coriolanus #president snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #smut #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow angst

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carolmunson · 7 months

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you get me closer to god | kas!eddie (dark)

entry for my fall frenzy requests. this request comes in from @edsforehead: 'something with kas!eddie in a graveyard.'

a/n: y'all, i don't know. i kind of snapped with this one. sort of canon compliant. inspired by a post that i saw that said that after vampires feed they have an insatiable desire to breed afterwards. steve also makes an appearance cause i love him.

tw: 18+ MDNI, dub-con, dub-con, dub-con (reader does get into it). use of hypnosis, coercion. blood play, blood drinking, biting. very obvious power dynamics at play here. death of minor character mentioned. p in v smut, rough and sensual. oral (f-recieving), monster-type-fucking. mild chasing trope. some religious elements if you squint??? anyway i listened to closer by nine inch nails on a loop for this if you wanna know the general vibe. let me know if there is anything i missed and need to put on here!

October 31st, 1998

Your niece had a better haul than you ever did at this age, it seemed like every house on the fancy side of Hawkins was giving out full size candy bars. No one ever gave you full size candy bars. The Harrington's had outdone themselves this year, hoards of kids picking out wrapped caramel apples and passing out spiked cider to the parents. Humming and smiling while the adults hugged their parkas to their chests, kids running up and down the stairs of the cul de sac of Hawkins Mansions. Decorated to the nines -- you were happy that most of the street would tire her and all of her friends out. "Auntie!" she calls out, hurrying over to you while her pink and purple puffer coat swishes with her. Alycia glitters against the lights of the houses in the dark of the night, the red sequins on her leotard making her easy to find. Your sister-in-law made her a headband fitted with red horns with a pointed tail sewn into the back of the red tu-tu from her Spring recital to match. A Dancing Devil she called it -- for newly six, she was a pretty creative little bug.

"Auntie look," she yells, running into your legs. The spiked cider sloshes in your cup that you hold high over her head so it doesn't spill onto her. She holds up a decorated caramel apple covered in eyeballs made out of sugar.

"Gross, Leesh," you giggle, "It's got eyeballs all over it!"

"They're fake eyeballs, Auntie," she explains like you're stupid, "They're not real eyeballs."

"Oh, thank you for telling me. I didn't know," you giggle, catching Steve watching the two of you chat. Your cheeks burn, that crush from when you were fourteen and he spent the summer working at the mall never fully fading. He's married with four kids now so you should probably get over it. "How're things?" he asks from the curb, coming over to sneak Alycia a couple of Reese's cups. "They're good," you shake your head with a shrug, "They're fine. Out here with the rugrat while her mom's at work." "How's the family, your mom?" he presses, arms crossing over his broad chest that stretch the sleeves of his tan workwear jacket.

"She's doin' okay," you smile tightly, "Always a little hard for her this time of year."

"Five years now, isn't it?"

"To the day," you say with a lilt, "Gonna go visit him after I drop her with her grandparents. My dad'll be so thrilled to steal half her stash."

Your laugh is a little hollow when he squeezes your shoulder comfortingly, he slips a candy bar into your hand, too before saying his goodbyes -- set of twins running around his ankles.

Hawkin's bravest fireman somehow off duty on a night like this turns before you take your niece's hand to leave, "Be careful out there at night. You know it's not always safe."

"You don't believe in all those rumors, do you Harrington?" you laugh.

"Don't have to believe them or not," he says seriously, pushing his wire rims up his nose, "I know they're not rumors."

"Happy Halloween, Steve," you say dully, "Goodnight." You both wave, Alycia's little hand in yours while she rattles off a million words a minute about the skeloton outside of the Sinclair house. The moon glows down over the street, dark clouds slicing it like a broken plate.

You rarely visit your brother on the day of, especially since there's always idiot teenagers running around the place. Not exactly easy to mourn when some loser in a Scream mask keeps trying to scare you.

It was quiet, your Docs crunching on mid-fall frosty grass -- some of it already half dead with the season. Commotion from the town in the distance had dulled into mostly nothing now that the kids had turned in for the night. Families turning their porch lights out, settling in for scary movies and sugar highs.

You squeeze the bouquet of baby's breath and eucalyptus a little hard in your hands when you walk through the tombstones. The low lamps along the walk way casting the grass and asphalt in a looming orangey glow -- not offering much light beyond their posts. The moon does the work, still looking shattered amongst the thin gray clouds sliding through the sky.

You hear some giggling, the rustle of leaves, the snap of twigs. Always an outlier of kids doing spells or a Ouija board out here this time of year -- old Chief Hopper coming down to make them scatter and take their weed. You walk off the path when you get a decent way in, crossing away from where the cemetary mostly turns to forest. Four 'Happy Birthday To Yous' into the brush and then a left, two head stones, then a right -- it's the third headstone on the fourth row. No light to shine down on you this time, just whatever's left in the sky. You take your big yellow scarf off from around your neck to lay over the grave, giving yourself a place to sit so your spandex covered thighs didn't have to touch the grass. Your mom would kill you if you got grass stains on the red trench she let you borrow -- a makeshift Carmen Sandiego costume if anyone asked.

You sit, laying the bouquet right at the granite edge, tracing his name before letting your hand drop. You don't say anything for a while, letting the cool wet air run over you in waves. You wonder if the wind blowing is him saying hey.

A few cemetery patrons come by, pay their respects to their loved ones and leave. Some superstitious, some religious. They fade out after a while. The loneliness is comforting, just you and your brother hanging out together like before. Despite being six years apart, it felt like you both always had some weird wonder twin telepathy. He was never really one for a lot of words.

"Didn't that guy tell you not to come around here so late?"

You jump at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, turning around to see an even more unfamiliar person. Wild curly waves messy around his face, cut in 80s shag perfection. His face chiseled, jawline pronounced with soft stubble, soaked in fake blood. It trails down his neck and stains the white of the baseball tee underneath a leather jacket; fitted over top with a battle vest that rivaled the metal heads of the 70s.

"Who're you, huh? You following me?" you ask. You swallow nervously, finding solace in seeing a few other cemetary visitors mosying around. The faint giggle of more mischeif causing teenagers in the distance.

"Sorry," he laughs, a warm laugh that meets his eyes, "Didn't mean to scare you. I um, I saw you over by the cul de sac, overheard him say somethin' to you. I was with my little cousin -- dressed like a mermaid, I don't know if you remember."

You think back to Leesh's pal of trick-or-treaters, scanning them in your head to recall a little girl with big brown eyes and a makeshit Ariel costume on under her jean jacket -- covered in patches much like his.

"Yeah," you smile, "I remember. But that didn't answer my question -- are you following me?"

"Nah," he grins, shaking his head, "I'm visiting someone -- this was just a happy accident."

"Oh," you respond quietly, "Who're you visiting if you don't mind me asking."

"My mom," he shrugs, scrunching his nose, "Halloween was her favorite holiday so I always try to come say hi."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you offer in condolences, "Did you um -- did you grow up here? I feel like I'd remember you."

"Nope," he sighs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans while his wallet chain jingles next to his thigh, "Grew up with my uncle."

"Oh, nice," you nod, "Well um --"

"Who're you visiting?" he interrupts, sitting on the gravestone next to your brother's; hardware tinkling prettily as he does.

"Pete," you say, hand out to gesture towards the shiny granite in front of you, "My brother."

"Nice to meet you, Pete," he turns his head, curly hair flouncing over his shoulder, "Pleasure."

You laugh, he laughs with you -- you have to laugh about it or else you'd have to deal with the alternative. You're pretty sure you're all cried out about your brother now.

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"He worked construction," you shrug, "Took an overnight shift five years ago by the quarry, an' it was Halloween so he was workin' by himself -- no one to spot his safety gear. Must've fallen off the rigs or something and since it rained a lot that year the quarry was basically a lake at that point, hit his head and drowned. His body was completely banged up and waterlogged, they could only ID him from his pass in his pocket."

"Shit," he nods, "That's -- that's fuckin' awful. I'm sorry."

You shrug, "Bitch of living, I guess."

"Hm," he nods, "I wouldn't know."

"What do you mean?" you ask with a cocked head, eyes lingering on him while his linger on you. "Don't worry about it," he smirks, the kind that makes your heart flutter; cheeks getting hot at the sound of his voice. "You know something," you start, "With this whole get up -- and you're not from here so you might not know -- you look just like --"

"Eddie Munson?" he asks, with raised brows, "Yeah, my aunt's been telling me that forever. That's why I sorta dressed up like him for Halloween."

"That's dangerous around Hawkins, especially this time of year," you warn him, standing up from your spot and picking up your scarf. You shake it out to get some of the grass of the underside. You hardly notice the way his eyes trail from your shoes over your calves to your thighs.

"Some people say that he went right to hell after that earthquake since he killed that girl," you explain, shrugging the trench off some to fit the scarf on under it, "And now he's a demon that haunts Hawkins and terrorizes the town."

You both laugh, though his drops to a low and guttural hum. Nearly a growl. You lift your head to see him just a foot in front of you now, and you can really look. You can really see him. The paleness in his skin, tendrilled navy veins raising through it as he leans close to you.

At this distance it's clear that the hollowness in his eyes isn't makeup, but the sparkling brown is sunken into his skull. His brows darkened and determined while he looks at you.

At this distance, it's clear that the blood on his jaw is real.

"They're close," he says with a sly smile, "Really should've listened to Harrington, sweetheart."

You swallow hard, icy sweat in a film on your body while he takes a step forward.

"Those rumors are true."

The icy air shreds your throat as you run, heaving it in and out in gasps. Your calves scream, thighs aching while you sprint through the brush of the forest; trench and scarf long forgotton somehwere amongst the trees. You try to ignore the way twigs and branches swipe at your face, slicing you and scratching you with unforgiving whips. You let out a cry while you speed, leaping over roots and piles of leaves all while trying to listen with peak percision. Is he close? Is he getting closer? Can he see you?

You stop behind a log near a dip in the earth, rocks above it. Climbing in you heave, trying to catch your breath -- you aren't really made for this. You don't know how girls in the movies can run that long without needing a break.

With a deep inhale in, you hold, using the quiet to try and hear him but there is nothing to be heard. No rustling, no creaks in the wood or in the wind.

You catch your breath, slowly creeping out of your hiding space while the darkness hones -- trees blocking out some of the moonlight. You take a step and then another, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Your efforts are of no use though -- you stomach turns at the sound. The flap of wings, leathery wings -- big. A shaky breath in gives you the courage to turn your eyes up. On one of the taller branches above you he sits, pale and domineering, "Hi, sweetheart."

You bolt again, depserate and sobbing while the cold air is no longer a hello from your brother but mother nature's cruel bite on your wet cheeks. You can barely take in breaths without pain in your throat and chest, turning left and right and left again to lose him but from above he can predict your every move.

When you hear silence again you take another turn, a mausoleum broken down a short distance away. You crawl your way in, wet earth and cement hitting your nose while you gasp and heave for the second time. You listen for the wings for moment, a few moments -- a calm washing over your back when you're sure he's gone.

You take a step back further into the darkness to be sure you're unseen. Deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. One, twice, three times.

Another step back and you bump into a pillar making you jump, a screech wrenching from you.

Not a pillar no, not by the way a set of claw bites into your shoulder.

"Would've been a good hiding spot if it wasn't for me finding it first, right?" he quips, "Bummer." "Y-you can't d-do this," you cry, "The r-rumors are true they'll -- they'll look for me! Steve knows about you!"

"Oh, babe, that's so cute," he muses with a giggle, "Why do you think I'm still here, huh? Steve's just like me, he's bitten too."

"B-but--"

"Why do you think he believes in all those rumors, huh baby?" he asks with a lilt, "Cause he's one of 'em. Well -- not all the way, I guess. Not like me."

"He blows my cover he blows his whole operation," he grins, sharp teeth bearing themselves at you, "Why d'you think he only works night shifts?"

"I -- don't -- I don't," you sputter, "Pl-please d-don't bite me, d-don't eat me I -- I'll do whatever."

"You're too funny," he says in your ear, deep and grizzly while you're rooted to the spot under his clutch, "I already ate, sweet girl. But you'll make a fine dessert."

You don't know how you get there but it's not like home -- it is but it isn't -- dark and deadly; covered in slithering vines. You're too petrified to ask; but whatever this place was, despite the spores in the air and the rubble from the walls -- it was much nicer than the trailer he grew up in.

"Shh, shh, shh," he coos, claws deep in your shoulder while he wrenches you to a bed covered in plush linens -- satin and full. In the blur around you it could almost be a movie set; the booms of red lightening, dripping pillar candles in heaps around the room.

You whimper at first when his claws release, hot blood oozing against your sweater. The pain pulses like a dull thud, spit flooding your mouth while you move to your side to wretch but he catches you by the root of your hair. You wail in fear, smelling the decay in his breath, the sweet subtle rot of your surroundings.

"It's not polite to cause a scene in a stranger's home, right princess?" he asks with a soft lilt. He holds your gaze, warmth spreading over you when he smirks again -- and despite your fear, you can't look away. You aren't even sure if you want to look away.

Your body goes slack on the comforter, melting into itself like a dropped marionnette. "Very good," he purrs. Hazy, you feel his hands on you -- losing their warmth while they sneak under the hem of your sweater. The pads of his fingers are soft in comparison to the tips of his nails, grazing your stomach and sternum before reaching up to cup your breasts. He lets out a shallow breath, squeezing the delicate flesh softly in his palms -- so gentle despite his rough demeanor.

His thumbs graze your nipples in slow circles earning him a mewl from your dry throat.

"So easy," he giggles in a whisper. You nearly pout when his hands slide down and away from you; beginning the unhurried removal of your clothing. He moves glacially, eyes remaining on yours, wraiths of whispers in a lanuage you don't understand fluttering in the air around you -- in one ear and out the other. Part of you wants to scream and thrash while he slides off your spandex, rips the seams of your panties, destroys your socks.

His clawed hands shred your sweater, snap your bra at the straps until all your clothes are left in a heap on the dusty floorboards by a forgotten desk. He crawls over you like a predator, undressed himself now: some how bigger, more hulking than before. His shoulders are broad, muscles flexing while skin so white it's nearly blue stretches over it. Whatever is down here has completely infected him, you can see it in the color of the veins beneath his skin, the slight red in his pupils, the dark blue hues under his eyes.

His wings lift high around him in an arched half circle, tips appearing behind him like a hybrid of horns and halo at once.

"Could smell you from here," he leers, "since last night. Christ, fucking drooling over you like a kid."

You whimper again, body jolting in pain when his nails pierce your thighs when he parts them. Fresh ichor spilling from the wounds in deep sanguine and he doesn't seem to care about the mess he's making while it drips onto the sheets. His cavalier manuevering comes off as though he likes to play with his food before he eats it.

"And I don't know what it is, angel, how my senses find the right ones," he rasps while he leans forward to your blood soaked shoulder; serpent tongue slipping out to lave over it, "But you really called to me this year; think you might be the one."

"The o-one wh-what?" you sniffle. His tongue slides over the lacerations on your shoulder again, sucking slightly from the new wounds. He lets out a groan, using free hand to rest on the side of your rib cage for support.

He deatches from the well he drinks from, tip of his nose running over your decollatage and up your neck. In inhales over your jugular, pressing a wet kiss under your jaw before getting to your ear.

"The one I mate with, sweetheart," he breathes, "The one I breed."

Breed? You heart sinks like a stone into your belly, body tensing in a freeze while you think of what to do. How to get out of here.

"Wait," you gasp, arms coming up to push at his chest and push him away, "No, please, wait -- you can't."

You push and push but he's a stone pillar, he barely moves, his muscles barely push inward at your assault. He tuts, the click of his tongue between his teeth almost a chitter. He noses your cheek before looming over you, tips of your noses brushing. He catches your gaze again, the whispers start while the air blows in through the broken window. Obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo. His lips aren't moving but you can hear his low voice in your ears, barely there, swirling around in your subconcious while the wind whispers with it. Another flash of red lightning illuminates him in a streak, the rumble of thunder vibrating your belly and chest. His hand floats up from your rib cage while you settle, cupping your cheek to slide down to your jaw and over your neck. The touch is nearly comforting, dipping you back into a haze like before.

"You were saying?" he asks.

"Hm?" your brows pinch, his voice muffled and far away.

"That's what I thought," he says smugly, head dipping back down to your neck where his lips drag over your delicate skin. His breath leaves a patch of wet heat that lingers when he moves down over your chest, fangs peeking out behind his full lips when he drags them over the swell of your left breast.

A gentle gasp escapes you, eyes fluttering closed when the tip of his tongue teases your pert nipple, blowing cool air against it once soaked with his spit. He flicks against it again, alternating sides, presses kisses over them in clear ownership. The more he tasted of you, the more it belonged to him.

With each touch and tease of your tits the more you gasp and whine beneath him, he chuckles from his belly, moving down to your sternum.

"And I died a virgin, can you believe it?" he asks with a cocky lift to one of his brows, "Now all I gotta do is smile and girls like you 'll just fall into bed with me."

There's cotton in your ears, all you can do is nod slowly while blood still leaks from your shoulder and thighs. All you can feel is his mouth and hands travel further and further down. The wind howls and the low chant in the back of your head changes tune but in the same cadence; over and over again: vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

He licks a stripe up the back of your thigh to catch a bead of blood before it reaches the mattress, savoring you. He feeds from the gouges he left behind for a moment before inching forward to the apex of your thighs. Eddie inhales your scent deeply, the earthly musk of you making his mouth water in a mix of metal and spit. His nose brushes against the untrimmed hair of your mound, ghosting himself over it drunk with attraction.

Your body heats up with mild embarrassment, flexing while your hips writhe slightly underhim. Almost as if he can hear your thoughts he kisses the crease of your thigh, "Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby. Girls don't let it grow like this anymore n' it's such a shame."

You want to speak up and explain it's just 'cause you haven't had the time but your tongue doesn't know how to move anymore. Too tired to speak, too caught up in how he feels, how he touches, how he takes what he wants. You relent again, body relaxing; pliant while he spreads you apart for him a desperate moan pulling from you when his tongue -- still soaked in your blood -- glides from the pool of slick at your opening all the way up to your clit.

You almost gag at the way your body betrays you, sending a spread of electricity over your nerves from your core to your finger tips. "More," you whisper, not even believing you're begging for him, "Please, more."

Eddie's smug in his response, smiling with his eyes while he looks up at you from between your legs, "And good manners? You spoil me, princess."

Your back arches in a soft curve when your hips push back into the mattress, pressing yourself into his waiting mouth. He groans again when your body drips for him, leaving a damp sheen on his cheeks and chin. It's not about your pleasure despite how much of it he's bringing you, but about your consumption. He's devouring you. Licking his plate clean from the outside in.

The moans he takes from you spur him on, getting you further and further away from the fight you put up before. Spilling over for him like a puddle while you writhe, a hand reaching out to rake through his hair. His own reaches up from aroud your thigh to hold you by the wrist tight to your side.

"Hands to yourself," he murmrs, soft lips wrapping around your swollen clit to suck expertly on the bud. You whimper, tugging at his hold but it only makes his grip more intense, pinning you there without much a fight. Not even enough to distract him from the task at hand.

When his tongue sinks back down into your soaking core you feel it, the heat pulsing through your belly while he lets the muscle dip and swirl in your wetness. Your thighs twitch and shake when his nose bumps your sensitive clit, his free hand coming up to gingerly rub circles over it in tandem.

"Oh my god," you whine, "Oh my god -- K-kas don' -- oh my god, ohmygod." He snickers, contining his movements, murmuring a quiet, "God's not here, baby."

Another roll over your hips sends you reeling, his tongue gliding in long strokes when finally the coil in your belly snaps. You fall apart beneath him, loud moans and high pitched squeals while he consumes you through it. Your body vibrates, thighs clamping down over his ears, blood from the slices in your flesh staining his hair and jaw.

He hums low when you settle, gasping for breath on your already dry and scratchy throat while you come down.

Eddie rises slowly, shoulder blades and wings moving with him while he crawls up your body. Smooth and languid like a snake, his torso hovers above yours while he settles his hips between your thighs. You look up at him, his shape, the way his eyes have blown black, the newfound sharpness in his features. A creature, a monster in your wake — not the same person you saw at the cemetery.

“Oh,” he coos when he sees your eyes glassy and rounded upon him, “So precious.”

You're much weaker now, mind and body, the stings across your skin from the broken branches and his sharpened nails a pain you've become better accquainted with. You take another breath of calm, arms resting by your head with your palms up towards the ceiling. He takes the moment of surrender to hold them down against the bed. The pressure of his hips against yours keeps you pinned, but you barely fight -- maybe squirm, maybe whine. No thrashing, no screaming, the whispers echo through the wind again:

Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

"So, so, precious," he whispers while he leans forward, kisses pressed to one cheek and then the other slow and controlled. He inhales again when he dips down to your neck, piercing fangs dragging over the vein there. You feel the push and then the pain, the unbearable blinding pain of his teeth ripping through you. Through your skin, through the muscle, the pulse of his mouth while he holds himself there.

You cry out, nearly a scream while he holds himself there -- just enough to infect you, just enough to get the poison in. The pain reaches a blinding peak, bile growing up your throat, eyes filling with a white hot surge of anguish and then -- Nothing. Euphoria. An unknown lightness you hadn't felt before.

He releases, still holding tight to your wrists above your head when he raises up over you again.

"Open," he instructs, and in your hazy gaze you obey. Your tongue flattens against your chin without command.

"Very good, sweetheart," he praises, collecting the blood left on his lips and in his cheeks to spit it directly into your waiting mouth.

"You can close now," he grins, "And swallow."

He grunts, hips sliding against you so that you can feel his length between your legs; the girth alone sends a chill to the part of you that is screaming inside your head. How is it supposed to fit? How is he supposed to get this inside you? "Don't worry," he laughs, "It'll fit."

When your vision snaps up at him he laughs again, "I can hear you in there, princess. I can always hear you."

He dips down again, tip of his nose sliding over your cheek to your ear, "So be very careful what you think about."

He doesn't need his hands to guide the head of himself into your already needy center. It's a stretch, delicious but nearing painful. It's not something you've ever even dreamed of taking before; thick, large, inhuman.

Your legs lift on their own accord while he pushes in further, getting half way while you let out a choked sob.

"Aw, shh, shh, shh," he mocks, easing in more, "C'mon you can take it."

"You can --" his hips snap in hard for the rest of him, letting out a ragged grunt when the rest of him disappears inside you, "--take it."

You mouth hangs open in a desperate oval, face crumpling when you become so full of him -- all encompassing. A part of you now, buried deep within. He moves, dangerously slow and controlled; methodic in how he thrusts himself deeper and deeper inside. "Mmm, that's it," he growls, chest to chest with him while his hip grind at a deliberate pace. You feel his hot breath fan out over your lips, forehead pressed against yours. He's not hot, he's not cold, just skin against yours while it flashes with heat. You go from shaking to sweating with minutes in between.

When your hips roll to meet his thrusts you moan, the tip hitting you so deep in your core that stars burst behind your eyes. "There we go," he grins mischeviously, "S'at feel good, pet?"

"Ooh, yes," you hiss through gritted teeth, actively trying to bounce yourself againsth him now that your body has started accommodating his sheer size. He raises himself up on his hands like a cobra, snake like peering down at you while he meets the roll of your hips with an unforgiving thrust.

"Good," he oozes the word out like smoke, deliciosly deep seated in his belly when he thrusts hard again. He mumbles a quiet musing to himself that you can't hear -- too gone in the lightness in your body, in the way nothing hurts, in the way you're so full.

Can finally fuck you how I wanna.

He gets up, sitting back on his haunches while still inside you, pushing your legs up so your knees end up by your ears. With this leverage he sinks in deep. You don't even know how far in he is, just that he's in and he's there, he's everywehre, he's outside and in.

Eddie locks eyes with you, that same smirk from the cemetary that made your stomach flip dancing across his devilish features, "Tell me you like it."

Your mouth moves before your brain can hesitate, "I like it." "Tell me you need it," he demands, tone measured and sure.

"I need it," you say back, your voice coming out broken and weak, "Please, I need it."

He pulls back and punches forward, hard enough that you gasp at the impact. He grips you hard by the backs of your legs, thrusts starting slow and building at an unrelenting pace. His eyes are wild; boring down at you through from under furrowed and determined brows. If you had any mind left, you'd think that he hates you by the way he stares.

"Fuck," he snarls, leaning forward over you, one hand pressing down on the mattress next to your head, "Shit -- fuck, that's it. That's fuckin' -- shit, you're fuckin' mine." "Say you need me."

"I need you," you choke back without thinking, barely able to breathe at his speed. The coil tightens deep inside of you again, tears pouring down your cheeks in waves -- not even crying, just recieving. Absorbing him. Your body rocks like a boat on unsteady waves pinned beneath him, the only sounds are the whispers in your subconcious, his growls and sputters like an animal above you. The lewd slaps of skin against skin, the squelches of him pushing you to your limits.

He steadies himself over you, nose to nose again while he fucks you. Really fucks you. Impressed with himself, he lets out a breathy chuckle when you throw your head back -- eyes shutting tight with a pornographic scream.

"Oh GOD!" you cry out, "Oh my god."

His fingers and claws catch your chin with a firm shake, eyes snapping open to meet the knowing glare of his ruddy brown ones.

"Your god," he starts, panting into your mouth, "is right here in front of you."

You swallow, mouth falling agape again when you feel the bite of his nails on the fat of your cheeks. "Right here," you repeat, dazed and overwhelmed, "N'..n'fronname."

"Right here in front of you," he nods, leaning down to brush his nose against yours while his thrusts slow to a steady pace. It's then that his lips meet yours, the kiss searing with desire and claim when his tongue slides into your mouth. You can taste the metallic twang of your blood in his mouth, sighing into it while he guides the kiss. Breaking away and coming back in; rushed and heated each time while he feels himself get closer to his peak.

His forehead presses against yours, one hand finally releasing your wrist to hold your head in place over your hair. You keep eye contact with him, not even sure if you're blinking, if you even need to blink. You rasp breaths, mouth and throat dry and aching while you breathe into him. You're close, teetering on the edge while he pushes you up with his hips to rest your lower body on his knees and thighs.

"Come undone," he murmurs, "Let go for me."

The command ripples through you, bursting through your belly with a warm heat. You welcome it, eyes rolling, cries pouring from you in words you don't think you understand. He encourages you, offering you rough sweet nothings while you pray to him, beg for him, ache for him.

That's enough to send him over; seeing you completely at his mercy now. Obedient, trained, devoured.

He snares and snarls, growling while he comes deep inside of you. The hand on your head wraps painfully in your hair like it did before you started -- uncaring, brutal. The heat of his seed pools deep within you like the heart of your orgasm. Glazed over you groan, hips rolling up in one final cant to receive him fully. Your vision vingettes while he unsheathes from you; fluids leaking onto the sheets. You're empty and the room spins with a new blackness, you're fading. Fainting? Dying?

The fuzziness continues to darken arouns you, around him, until he's all that's left in the tunnel of your vision. "That's a good girl," he soothes smugly, "Very well done."

Your gaze and mind fade fully to a staticky black.

You wake, you’re not sure how much later.

Still on the bed and still undressed but your arms feel tight – a tug reveals your current state. Bound to a post on the headboard by a triple handcuff knot, dense hemp rope keeping your arms above your head.

You whine and struggle, coming to your senses now – no one knows where you are, you barely know where you are. An underworld – hell. Somewhere.

“Don’t look so terrified, sweetheart,” his smooth honey voice is heard before he appears in the candle light again, “I’m right here.”

“Wh-why am I –” you swallow thickly, coughing and sputtering with how dry your mouth and throat are now, “Why am I tied up?”

He looks at you with faux concern, brows raising, “Oh honey, are you okay?”

He reaches out, pushing your hair away from your face, “Don’t be stressed. Y’know something – I just realized, I never offered you anything to drink.”

“My uncle always told me you should take a girl out to dinner before makin’ the van rock and look at me,” he gestures at his chest, tutting at himself, “Where are my manners, huh?”

Your lip wobbles while he looms over you, “Are you thirsty?”

You nod, he grins – cheshire like, fangs glinting in the light, “I thought you would be.” He gets up, lazy and confident in his walk across the room. His body looks like marble, chiseled with the running and hunting you realize he’s been doing for over a decade. Stronger than ever; ethereal in his post orgasm glow.

He pulls his hair back while he walks, holding it up away from his neck while your eyes travel down his back where his wings have tucked in under the skin. You gag when you see them move above his blades, rippling beneath the tattoos he has there. He’s dressed in only shorts; silk – likely stolen to really own the whole vampire thing he has going on.

You take in a shaky breath when he gets what he needs, dropping his hair back to his shoulders when he makes his way back to you.

He holds the dagger coolly in his hand before gliding the tip down the center of his wrist. Blood blooms from the wound; he doesn’t even flinch.

“Open, princess,” he murmurs. Your lips clamp shut, shaking your head no while fear takes over – rot in your chest. He catches your chin again, forcing you to look at him like before.

“Open,” he repeats, slower. His voice reverberates like a gong between your ears.

Your mouth opens on its own accord and the smell of his blood becomes the most alluring scent you’ve had pass your nose in years. You latch on to the laceration, swallowing and sucking deeply on the wound while his blood and body quench and feed you better than any meal you think you’ve ever had. You feel revived as you devour him, eyes fluttering closed while the fill feels never enough.

“That’s it, keep goin’,” he encourages under his breath, “Won’t have to keep asking you to do things twice once this is all over with.”

You break away to breathe, gasping like you’re coming up for air, drowning in him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ll be just like me, sweetheart,” he says, chuckling when you eagerly lean forward to drink him again, “After a night of some deeply insurmountable pain; and then nothing. Just mine. Undead and mine.”

“But y–you said you were – I’m –” your brows knit in confusion, “You didn’t h-have to d-do this; whatever you um – whatever you bred me with will die if you do this.”

“Oh, no, no,” he laughs evilly, “I didn’t breed you quite yet.”

He pulls his arm away, wiping the blood from your chin with his thumb roughly.

“Consider what we did a, uh…hmm,” he takes a second to think about it with a hum, shrugging cheekily, “A soul bonding experience.”

“You’re disgusting,” you spit.

“I’m delicious,” he corrects, smearing his blood from your chin to your cheek, “If you do say so yourself.”

He gets up again, pulling the covers out from under you to tuck you in. The chill getting to you in a way it never gets to him; you might as well be warm while you turn into actualized death.

“I can hear you, remember?” he asks, tapping your head, “You won’t be totally alone with me. There’s…shit there are plenty just like us.”

“Like Steve,” you pipe up groggily.

“More than just goodie two-shoes Harrington,” he groans, “God, do you ever shut up about him?”

You sniffle in response.

“I mean this place, this – dimension,” he says, “It’s more than just Hawkins, and there are so many more like us; even up there.”

He points upwards with a sharp nailed finger, “All around.”

“And now that you’ll be just like me,” he smiles, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you in the crook of you waist, “There’ll be all the time in the world to breed you.”

Your vision blurs, either from tears or from another fade, you aren’t sure. You can feel a slow burn through your veins, a rush of blood. You whimper.

“So it begins,” he smirks, running the tip of his finger over your nose bridge.

“Oh!” he says, eyes bulging, “Before I forget, and before I lose you – because you’ll be such a pretty blank slate when you come to – I felt like I should be honest.”

He gestures dramatically, a maniacal grin pushing his cheeks up to his eyes while they spark, “Again with my manners, it was so rude of me to introduce myself to Pete’s grave at the cemetery. We’ve met before! Can’t believe I had almost forgotten.”

Ice in your body fights the burning in your veins, you gag, bile coming up to singe your throat.

“And y’know, I didn’t mean to drop him in the quarry when I was done with him,” he says with a scrunch of his nose, like he accidentally wrote the wrong tip on a restaurant check, “Really, my mistake, but Christ did he hit every piece of limestone on the way down.”

He lets out a hearty laugh while he remembers it, your brother's body bouncing off rocks and metal before slipping under the water. You swallow your sick only or it to rise back up with a vengeance, staining your skin red while it seeps out of the corner of your mouth. You tug on the ropes in retaliation, hot angry tears stinging your eyes.

“All that fallin’ did a number on him – which is good because it really took the heat of anyone knowing it was me. I just wasn't as clean about it back then. Much better now though,” he nods, finishing with a superior and charming look like he just told a bedtime story.

He leans forward close to your face while your vision pulses in fuzzy black, browning out while he looks down at you.

“And I’ll tell you something, babe…”

Fading, fading, fading.

“He tasted divine.”

masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #kas!eddie #kas!eddie munson #vampire!eddie munson #vampire!eddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fan fiction #tw: dubcon #tw: dub-con #dark!eddie #dark!eddie munson

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karajaynetoday · 3 months

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and i'd give up forever to touch you, cause i know that you'd feel me somehow | jack hughes

Thank you for all the love on hey now, you're an all-star - i am honestly blown away by those notes!! here is a part two. let me know what you think, and what your predictions or desires are for a potential part three! xo

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: nothing major. uni stress again, jack being a bit of a dick. angst. all of the angst.

(This is a fem reader insert) read part one here read the part three here

More writing here | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here | if you’d like to be on my taglist go here

Waking up was always slightly disorienting for you, and the next morning was no different.

Your dreams could be quite vivid, or you couldn’t remember them at all once you awoke; but the first thing you could sense on this particular morning was the strong scent of coffee wafting through the room. As your eyes adjusted to the morning light streaming in the windows, you became suddenly and painfully aware that you were alone on the couch. A blanket had been draped over you at some stage of your slumber, but Jack was nowhere to be seen.

You sat up slowly, rubbing your face, trying to ignore the anxiety that was building in your chest. You could hear a shower running, somewhere in the hotel suite, and hastily threw the blanket off your body as you scanned the room for your belongings.

Shoes. Where were your shoes? And phone? Keys? Did you bring a bag with you? What time was it? What time did your class start? Would you be able to get an Uber to Campus in time? Wait, was your class online or on campus this morning?

Your brain was churning out a thousand thoughts a minute, and your heart rate was starting to match it. You felt like a deer in headlights. Or a cat under a rocking chair. Or… just… lost. You were so lost.

Someone cleared their throat behind you and you jolted, whipping around to face Quinn, who was decked out in a brown leather jacket and grey pants, holding two steaming coffee mugs in his hands.

You must have looked distressed, because Quinn offered you a gentle smile and one of the mugs which you cautiously accepted.

“Thanks, Q. I really should get going soon, though. Get out of your hair before the big draft day circus arrives.” Your voice was still slightly groggy with sleep.

“Take as long as you need, sugarplum. Our call time isn’t for another two hours. Jack’s in the shower, and he’d hate it if you left without saying goodbye.” Quinn raised his eyebrows at you as you both took a sip of coffee.

“Watching Jack try and untangle himself from you on the couch did provide me with my morning entertainment though. Surprised he didn’t end up with another injury given how clumsy he usually is.” You felt your cheeks get warm at Quinn’s comment and the smirk on his face.

“He could’ve just woken me up…” You offered weakly, shrugging your shoulders in an attempt at nonchalance.

“No offence, but that was a risk that neither of us are willing to take. Not after last summer.” Quinn bit back a laugh as you narrowed your eyes at him.

Last summer at the lake house, you’d stayed up all night trying to finish the latest novel in your favourite fiction series. Jack had come into your room to wake you for the boat day you’d discussed the day before, but instead of a gentle approach to waking you up, he’d literally jumped onto your bed. Which caused you to sit bolt upright and “accidentally” punch him in the face. At least he thought the black eye made him look tough for a couple of weeks.

“Nice jacket, by the way.” You tried to change the subject.

Quinn stood up straight and puffed out his chest.

“You think so? Jack and I got to go down to Hermés and pick out our outfits yesterday. I felt suuuuper out of my league to be honest.”

Your eyes widened at the brand name Quinn just dropped, slightly choking on your coffee.

“Hermés? That’s proper designer, Q. Like, tens of thousands of dollars of jacket, right?”

Quinn didn’t answer you, but he didn’t have to. The look on his face told you that the jacket he was wearing was worth more than six months of your rent. Maybe more.

“Well, we have to do this red carpet thing, and I figured we should probably try a bit harder than team merch.” Quinn reached over and tugged playfully on the sleeve of your hoodie.

Well, Jack’s hoodie. That you happened to be wearing. Which was previously super comfortable, but now felt like your skin was on fire underneath it.

“What time is it, anyway?” There you go again, changing the subject.

“Like, 9.15?” Quinn offered, pulling his phone out of his pocket and showing you the time on his home screen.

9.15? Why was that important to you? What was at 9.15?

The test. In your economics class. Worth a decent chunk of your grade. It was at 9.30am. But was it online or on campus?

You downed the rest of your coffee in one gulp, ignoring how it burned your throat, and thrust your mug back at Quinn before tugging the hoodie over your head and throwing it on the floor. You turned around, searching wildly for your phone and spotting it on the couch where you’d been sleeping, not that long ago. You lunged for it, frantically unlocked and trying to find your university schedule in the calendar app.

“Oh thank god. It’s online. Holy fuck.” You closed your eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm yourself down.

“Sugar? You okay?” Jack’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you looked up from your phone to see him standing in the doorway to his room.

Clad in black jeans, with a towel around his shoulders and his hair still damp from the shower. Shirtless. Of course he was shirtless. You squeezed your eyes shut out of instinct, and also to stop yourself from blatantly checking him out. When you opened them, Jack was striding towards you, his face etched in concern.

“What do you need?” Jack spoke quietly, but firmly, reaching out to rub your arms reassuringly. His touch sent a zap of electricity through you, which seemed to kick your brain back into gear.

“I need… Do you have a laptop I can borrow? I have an online test in 15 minutes that I forgot about, for a subject I’m almost failing, and if I miss the test then I don’t know that I’ll be able to recover my grade.” You half-whispered, almost wishing that Jack and Quinn couldn’t hear your confession out loud.

You were supposed to be the smart one. That’s what everyone said, when you were growing up. You were the brains, Jack was the beauty. You were the bookish one, he was the brutally athletic one. Talking about failing university out loud was suddenly terrifying, even though you’d known it was a possibility for a few weeks or more.

“Hey… hey.” Jack squeezed your arms, trying to centre you, and dropped his head down to your eye level. “It’s okay. I’ve got a laptop you can use, and you can stay here for as long as you need.”

All you could muster was a nod in response, and Jack leaned in to kiss your forehead before disappearing back into his room, presumably to find his laptop. You sat back down on the couch, suddenly unsure of what to do with yourself.

Quinn had briefly left to place your coffee mug in the kitchenette, but he was back and leaned over the back of the couch to squeeze your shoulder.

“You’ll smash it, kiddo. Make sure you ask Jack what his laptop password is though, I’d hate for you to get locked out during your test.” Quinn said quietly, before his phone rang and he stepped into his room to answer it.

“Here you go, sunshine. Fully charged, but the charger is in my room if you need it.” Jack was back in the living room, handing his laptop to you, already logged in and a web browser open for you.

You stood up from the couch and moved towards the dining table, setting the laptop down and pulling out a chair. It only took a minute to log into your university portal and navigate to the subject page you needed for the online test. You were about to click the start button, when Quinn’s comment flashed in your mind.

“Jack?” You squeaked, turning to face the couch where Jack had flopped down moments before. Still clad in black jeans, still fucking shirtless, absolutely ignorant of the effect he was having on your ability to breathe calming, mindlessly scrolling on his phone.

“What’s up?”

“What’s… what’s your password? In case I get locked out and you’re not here? Could you write it down for me please?” You reached for the hotel notepad and complimentary pen that was on the table you were sitting at, waving them in Jack’s direction.

Jack rolled his bottom lip under his teeth as he stood up and took the notepad from you and began scribbling on it.

“I have to go downstairs and meet Bratter for some team social media stuff, but I’ll see you later, okay? Text me when you finish your test.” You’d never seen Jack move so quickly as he handed the notepad back to you, retrieved a shirt and jacket from his bedroom and disappeared out the hotel room door, all within a minute or two.

You were confused, to say the least. You glanced down at the notepad Jack had thrust into your hands, and you could’ve sworn your heart stopped when you saw what he scrawled on it.

Password - SugarpluM2001Jh!

–

Quinn had headed out not long after Jack did, leaving you to complete your test in silence. Despite the disorienting start to your morning, and all of your revision notes being on your desk at home, you managed to scrape through with a 75% result which would supplement your final grade significantly.

The waves of relief washed over you, as you clicked out of web page you were on. You reached for your phone and typed a quick message to Jack as promised, and you were confused when the laptop chimed with a notification noise.

Oh. Oh. Jack’s laptop was linked to his phone, and his messages were suddenly popping up on the laptop screen in front of you.

You shouldn’t pry. You knew that. Your logical brain was telling you to close the laptop screen and get going. But your anxiety brain was telling you that you should take a peek. Just a little one.

Before your logical brain and anxiety brain could battle it out properly, the laptop notification chimed again, and a girl’s name that was not your own flashed up on the screen.

What happened last night? I thought you were coming to my room after your dinner?? Xx

You felt your jaw drop, as you started to realise what was happening in this conversation you shouldn’t have been privy to. You froze, as the little bubble popped up in the chat, showing you that Jack was typing a reply.

Sorry babe i got caught up with some boring family bullshit, you know how it is. Would’ve rather have been with you obvs but i just couldn’t get away. Then today is crazy with media stuff anyway. I’ll see u at the drew house event tonight though? Go back to yours after that? Xo

Sounds great. I’ll be wearing this for you, J. *image attached*

You slammed the laptop shut when the image loaded, showing someone wearing a red and black lingerie set.

You felt bad for snooping, but you felt worse knowing that Jack considered last night as “boring family bullshit”. Is that all it was? Were you stupid for thinking it was more? That it could ever be more between the two of you?

Or was that all you could ever hope to be? Like family. Forever intertwined, always floating in each other’s orbit, but never more than friends. Platonic soulmates at best, childhood acquaintances at worst.

You were spiralling, yet again, and your phone buzzing with a notification provided a brief reprieve. Until you saw that it was a text from Jack.

Well done on your test, champ!! Knew u could do it. See you at the draft tonight? There’s two passes in your email for you and your dad to come visit. Might even get to meet bublé, if that’s your vibe lmao

Suddenly, there was a bitter taste in your mouth. Why was he pretending like he wanted to spend time with you? When surely all he actually wanted to do was sneak off with the girl he was texting just moments ago?

You swiped into check your email app, and there were the passes as promised. You quickly scanned the email to see if they were assigned to any particular name, and all you could see was “guest of Jack Hughes” rather than you or your dad specifically. You quickly hit the “forward” button, and sent them on to your dad and your cousin Tom, who had met Jack and Quinn a handful of times over the years, and was a massive hockey fan like your dad. You knew Tom would love to go, and your dad would be happy enough to have Tom join him.

You sent through a quick message to Tom saying you weren’t feeling well and that he’d be doing you a favour by taking your pass, to which he immediately replied with lots of exclamation points and thanks.

Next, you typed a message back to Jack.

Thanks again for the laptop and for the passes. Something’s come up so i can’t come but dad will be there with tom, hope that is ok? Didn’t want the passes to go to waste. Good luck for the draft, don’t let quinn bully you too much lol

You were hoping that Jack wouldn’t question you, or pick up on the shift in tone. Well, maybe you wanted him to sense the tone a little bit. Jack’s typing bubble popped up in the text conversation, then disappeared, then popped up again, then suddenly your phone was vibrating with a call and Jack’s name was flashing across the top of your screen. Your fingers hovered over the answer/decline buttons, before you abandoned both and dropped your phone back onto the table, letting the call go to voicemail.

You stood up from the table and began to gather your belongings. The bitter taste was still in your mouth, but otherwise you felt nothing. Just numb. You barely realised what you were doing when your body moved towards the hotel suite door, into the elevator, through the lobby and out onto the street. You waited a few minutes for your Uber, before slipping away through the streets of downtown, and as far away from Jack as you felt you needed to be.

By the time you got home, Jack had called you twice, and sent you about ten text messages of various question marks and confusion, and a fair amount of concern. You plugged your phone into the charger on your bedside table before heading into your bathroom for a much-needed shower.

Your shower felt like it took about 3 hours, when in reality it was probably more like 20 minutes at most. You washed your hair, and spent some time sitting down on the shower floor staring into space, pondering the events of the last 24 hours. When you finally emerged, putting on your favourite sweatpants and an old Canucks hoodie you found on your bedroom floor, you realise your phone was flashing with more notifications.

You settled down in bed before picking up your phone and scrolling through the home screen. Jack had resorted to sending you photos of sad baby pandas to elicit a response, your dad had texted you to say thank you for the passes and to feel better soon, but it was a message from Quinn that caught your eye.

Q: What did he do? He’s freaking out. Are you okay? I can beat him up if you want me to. Or give him a hug. Just let me know which is more appropriate based on whatever the fuck he did

You hesitated, contemplating whether to tell Quinn the truth or not. But then you remembered that Quinn had literally known you since you were four. He could tell if you were lying in a heartbeat, even over text message.

You: Maybe just remind Jack that his text messages pop up on his laptop. See if that helps him to figure it out lmao sorry to miss tonight quinny, hope you draft all the canucks you want xo

Q: He now looks like he’s going to throw up?? Still unsure if hugging or punching is required tbh

New message - Jack Hughes -

You sighed and rolled your eyes, before clicking on Jack’s message notification.

I am an idiot. I’m so sorry, sugar. I swear i am.

Sorry for categorising me as “boring family bullshit” or sorry that you got caught trying to get your dick wet? Or sorry for pretending to be my friend when you apparently just tolerate me to be polite?

We have press for two more hours then i can call you. You’re my best friend, sugar. I love you.

You felt tears start to prick in your eyes as you read Jack’s message. Sure, he loved you. But not in the same way that you loved him. And right now, you felt like that would never change.

You clicked out of your message thread with Jack without replying, and opened up your conversation with Quinn instead.

I’ll come to the all-star game on saturday, but nothing else, if that’s okay with you? I just need some space for a bit, sorry x

Whatever you need, kiddo. I’ll give the game passes to your dad tonight. I still don’t know what jack did, but i think not seeing you will be punishment enough for whatever it was??

You didn’t reply to Quinn’s message. You didn’t reply to any more calls or messages for the next day or so, switching between trying to catch up on study and catching up on some Netflix episodes. You were typing notes on your laptop on Saturday morning, when a New Jersey Devils Twitter alert popped up on the screen and caught your attention.

#NEWS: Jack went home to Jersey last night after participating in Thursday’s draft and Friday’s media hits. He was extremely honoured to be a part of All-Star Weekend, especially sharing it with his brother. He’s really close to returning and wanted to get back so he could continue to focus on the rest of the Devils season.

The bitter taste you thought you’d gotten rid of suddenly returned with a vengeance.

Jack went home to Jersey last night. You had no idea when you’d see him again. And to be completely honest, you weren’t even sure that you wanted to. Your laptop dinged again, this time with an email notification. You were confused to say the least when the new email appeared to be from an airline, with a voucher attached.

Your phone buzzed with a new text message.

I couldn’t stand being there knowing you’re mad at me, but i also don’t want to force you to talk to me when you’re not ready to talk yet either. Use the voucher to come to jersey whenever you want. I’m sorry.

You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, torn between accepting Jack’s offer and wanting to be stubborn and not let go of being mad at him just yet. You hated what Jack had done, but you also hated yourself for cutting short your time with him that was already in short supply as it was.

I’ll let you know. Might be a flight to Jersey, might be a flight to Michigan. We’ll see. Good luck getting back out there!

You knew the Michigan comment was a cheap shot, but Jack had hurt you, so you wanted to be childish and hurt him back. The idea of not seeing him for almost four months until the summer break, where you’d all gather at the Hughes lake house as you did every year, made you feel slightly ill.

Whatever you want, sugar. Mac n cheese in michigan on me. Love you.

The mac and cheese comment made you smile, and the love you comment made you want to cry.

Love you too, J. Maybe too much. I don’t know. I need time. x

#jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #my writing #nhl imagine #jack hughes fanfiction

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woso-dreamzzz · 2 days

Text

Injured (Alexia's Version) II

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: Alexia comes home from work

Alexia comes in from a long day of coaching to find carnage in the house but no more than usual.

Jaume's muddy football boots are scattered in the entrance hall along with his school bag and his training bag. His jacket is thrown callously on the ground and she can just make out the dishes he hasn't cleaned up from his afternoon snack on the kitchen counters.

Her son is found in the living room, whirred into a game of FIFA and talking into his headset to his friends.

Your own ballet bag sits at the bottom of the stairs and Alexia can hear rhythmic thumping from your bedroom. She pops the door open and throws your bag onto the bed.

You're sitting at your desk, breaking in your pointe shoe by thwacking it against the corner of your study space. You're attacking the shank of your shoe viciously while your other one lays perfectly broken in next to you.

You've raided the sewing box too, a needle already threaded so you can sew on your ribbons as soon as you're done breaking in your second shoe.

"Did that one do something to you?" Alexia says and you jolt in shock, not having realised she came in.

"Yeah," You reply with a wry smile," It didn't come broken in." You whack it one final time against your desk and test its flexibility, finally content and get to work sewing your ribbons onto the shoes.

"You left your bag by the stairs," Alexia says and you roll your eyes.

"Jaume left his stuff all over the house," You reply," He's so messy."

"He's a boy. Boys are messy."

"Have you made him clean it up yet?"

"I'm letting him finish his FIFA match. It might embarrass him in front of his friends."

You roll your eyes again, tying off your first ribbons before moving onto the second. "They're so annoying."

"They're hormonal," Alexia replies. She takes your other shoe and starts sewing a set of ribbons on. "They'll grow out of it."

"Can they grow out of it now?" You mutter," I'm sick of them watching me."

Alexia freezes, like a pail of icy water has been thrown on top of her. Her mouth goes dry. "What?"

You give her a look. "Huh?"

"What do you mean they're watching you?"

You shrug. "I don't know. They're hormonal boys. I'm Jaume's older sister." You wrinkle your nose. "They say gross things sometimes. It's not a big deal."

Alexia hates that aspect of you. You're so resigned to the concept that it is what it is. You had problems like this when you were younger too, merely accepting bullying and rude words at you because you didn't think it would matter if you tried to fight it.

It's something that Alexia's never managed to snap you out of but she never thought that she would see it in a situation like this.

"What kinds of things?"

You frown at her. "I thought you knew."

"No! Is that why you didn't tell me?"

You shrug. "I thought if you were fine with it happening then I should be fine with it happening."

"No...Bambi...You should never think that those kinds of things are okay. They're not and if it happens again, you come to me right away."

You nod, not fully convinced. "Okay, Mami."

"Hey," She says," Put on your shoes. We're overdue a catch up."

Alexia's busy coaching at Barcelona most days. She's almost always working but she tries to find the time for you and Jaume both together and alone. It used to be a tradition that she would take you out once a week by yourself to 'catch up' but work has been so busy these past few weeks so you're long overdue some one-on-one time together.

"I'm sewing my ribbons!" You complain and Alexia fondly ruffles your hair.

"And you can take a break. You've just come from a full day of dancing. Go put on comfortable shoes. You can sew your ribbons tonight."

You huff but do what you're told.

Alexia goes back downstairs, switching the tv off.

"Mami!" Jaume complains, pulling down his headset," I was in the middle of a match!"

She gives him a pointed look. "And your stuff is in the middle of my house."

"I'll pick it up later."

"You'll pick it up now," Alexia says," This isn't your room, Jaume. I like my house to be tidy."

He huffs and moves to get up.

"And tell your friends to stop saying foul things to your sister."

He freezes, every muscle in his body going rigid and stiff. "What?"

"I know what teenage boys are like, Jaume, and I understand peer pressure and not saying anything so you can fit in but this isn't school. Your sister deserves to come home and feel safe."

"It...It was just jokes, Mami."

"Was it? You may think they were joking but were they actually?"

Jaume's face grows a little confused. "But they had to be! There's...There's no way they'd come to our house and...and say those things to her and actually mean them! Right? Mami, right?"

"Jaume..." Alexia sighs. It's clear to her now that Jaume genuinely had no idea that his friends could actually mean what they said. Alexia takes some comfort in knowing that, at least, Jaume hadn't done this out of spite or any other malicious feeling towards you. "Even if they were jokes, your sister doesn't need to be made fun of in her own house. If you let them get away with stuff now then they're just going to keep building and building and building on it until it's too late to stop them."

"Mami..." Jaume looks heartbroken now, glancing up the stairs where he knows you're doing something in your room. "They...She...Is she okay?"

"I'm taking your sister out," Alexia says," She's had a long day at practice and she needs some time to decompress, okay? Can I trust you to clean up your stuff and get started on your homework?"

He nods.

"Good boy." Alexia kisses his forehead. "Your Mama should be home soon. No tv until your work is done."

"Okay, Mami."

Jaume sits himself at the kitchen table, going through a mind-numbingly boring Physics worksheet when you come down.

"Ready to go?" Alexia asks and you nod.

"Hey, wait!" Jaume calls out and you stop, turning to look at you. "I love you."

You frown in confusion. "I love you too."

"Good," He says," I mean, it's good that you know that I love you." He nods several times and a small bubble of laughter erupts from you.

Jaume grins like he just won the lottery and Alexia trusts in her son to lay down the law with his friends.

She guides you out the door and to the car, driving down to some quaint café that's opened up nearby.

"A milkshake?" Alexia offers after you've found a table," I heard from Mapi that they do those big monster ones with a cupcake stabbed through the straw."

"Mami," You admonish," I still have dance tomorrow."

"Hmm," Alexia says," You're right. It's probably too big for one each. We can share."

"Mami!" You laugh," I'm trying to stay healthy. The Spring Season starts soon. We have performances to do."

Alexia reaches over to pinch your cheek and you roll your eyes. "Well, I'm your Mami and I say it's okay. You know, I'm quite wise."

"Fine," You say," But if we're getting a milkshake then let's get the red velvet one."

"Whatever you want, bambi."

Alexia orders some cupcakes and a cookie with it and rolls her eyes as you mock complain with no actual annoyance in your tone.

"Now," She says," I've spoken to your brother and he's going to sort his friends out or else."

You roll your eyes, poking at your food. "It's fine. I can deal with it."

"You shouldn't have to deal with it." Alexia reaches across the table for your hand. "Boys will be boys but that doesn't mean they should be saying those things to you. I...I just...Bambi why didn't you tell me?"

You bit the inside of your cheek, eyes darting to the side.

"Bambi," Alexia says again," Come on. You can tell me things, you know that, right?"

You nod. "I just...I was worried that I was being silly. That..." You shrug. "You know, you would think I was overreacting. It shouldn't bother me as much as it is. They're just stupid boys."

"Boys are always stupid," Alexia says decisively," And I don't think you're overreacting. It's going to be sorted out. If Jaume doesn't then I will."

She speaks so firmly that you can't help but agree, saved from replying by your mouth full of cake.

You still look a little awkward talking about it though so Alexia pivots the conversation away.

"So," She asks," What ballet is it this season?"

You're not usually talkative about the ballets you're practising, preferring it to be a surprise when you gift the family tickets to opening night but with the season approaching, you don't mind as much.

"First half of the season is La Sylphide," You say, sipping on the straw of the milkshake," Second half is Giselle."

Those words mean nothing to Alexia but you look excited so she decides to be excited for you.

Your cheeks go a little red and you pick at your cake. "Actually...I...er..."

"Is something wrong?"

"No...I...Do you remember when I told you that a few of our soloists got injured?"

Alexia racks her brain. "I think so. You said it was after the Nutcracker performances, right?"

You nod. "Well, they're still not back and the balletmaster decided to start doing understudies in case of injuries and sickness."

Alexia nods along. It's a smart choice, like rotating the players in a team.

You don't look at her, staring down at your plate.

"They're guaranteed one night though, you know, as the lead."

"Okay?"

"Mami, I'm playing Giselle."

Alexia chokes. "What?"

You finally look up at her. "I'm playing the lead, Mami."

"I..." Alexia whips out her phone. "What day is it? I need to check I'm not busy. No, I'll rearrange my meetings if I am. Oh, we'll have to call your Abuela and your Tia. Oh! And Mapi too! Jenni, as well." She starts typing away at her phone. "Wait, let me just text Olga. We'll have to get Jaume a proper outfit if you're going to play lead. And-"

"Mami," You cut her off though your voice is soft and quiet," It's not that big of a deal."

"Not that big of a deal?!" Alexia scoffs," You're seventeen years old, playing the lead in a professional ballet company! How could you keep this a secret?! Oh, bambi, we have to sort out tickets. What day did you say it was?"

You laugh. "I didn't, Mami."

Alexia crams the rest of her cake into her mouth. "We have to get home. We have to tell Jaume and Olga!" She looks at you for a moment. "So grown up! My little baby, playing the lead!"

You slouch in your seat. "Mami, calm down. It's for one night. People are staring."

"Up! Up!" Alexia insists," Come on! What do you want for dinner?"

"Mami-"

"You choose. Anything! Anything you want!"

"Mami-"

"What about that fancy place near Alba's house? I think I can get us a reservation."

"Mami!"

"Sorry, bambi. What did you want?"

"Can I just have a hug?"

Alexia pulls you into a hug, cradling the back of your head with her hand. "You make me so proud, bambi. I love you so much."

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

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theonewiththefanfics · 7 months

Text

The Panic of Love (one-shot)

Synopsis: Emotions don't come easy to Carmen. They never have. But when his feelings come to a boiling point, it's not like a pot on a stove you can close. They spill out. And change everything. The question is - is he ready to face that change?

Pairing: Carmen (Carmy) barzatto x fem!roommate!Reader

Genre: fluff, a bit of angst, SMUT (softest smut I've ever written)

Warnings: swearing, Carmy being hard on himself, SMUT

Word count: 7929

The weather channel was a goddamned fucking liar, and the weatherman too.

When Y/N finally entered The Bear, she was soaked to the bone, teeth chattering, and every possible expletive on the tip of her tongue because all the weatherman had said was it’d be cloudy. Not a fucking hurricane in sight. What a load of bullshit that had been.

It was a Saturday, her day off, unlike Carmen’s, the man who’d been her roommate for the past year, and when he’d left early in the morning, the Chicago sky still dark and void of any sun rays, she’d said she’d stop by for some of Marcus’s doughnuts and maybe a sandwich to take back home.

Carmen had raised a brow at her. “You know if you want a sandwich, all you have to do is ask, right?”

Y/N scoffed, rolling over and snuggling into her pillow. “You spend your whole day cooking food. I’m not going to make you work when you’re home.”

“No, really, I don’t mind –,”

“Nope.” She just shook her head. “Home is for relaxing, not working. Besides, kinda wanted to go on a walk today anyway. This will give me a reason to.”

Now though she wanted the weather channel to get struck by lightning. And the weatherman too.

“Well, you look like you just crawled out of a sewer,” Richie, Carmen’s cousin who he run The Bear with, said with a smirk.

The thunder that rumbled outside matched the look on Y/N’s face. “Fuck off, maybe?”

Richie just chuckled. “Coffee?”

“Yes please,” she sighed and eyed the menu above. She’d been to The Bear a few times, even before she’d gotten Carmen as a roommate, but always liked to try something new. Maybe a staple this time. “Carmy said Marcus was working on some doughnuts?”

Richie hummed in confirmation while he poured her a to-go cup of steaming bean juice. “Just in time for the batch to come out, actually.”

And it was like those had been the magic words as she saw Carmen with a big pan enter the front of the house, placing the still-warm circles of heaven behind the glass. He was about to rush back into the kitchen, but he lifted his gaze for just a split second, Y/N’s Y/E/C eyes meeting his striking blue ones, and stopped dead in his tracks.

“The fuck happened to you?” His tone wasn’t harsh, more so concerned as she surveyed her from where she was leaving an unmistakable puddle underneath her.

“Went for a swim?” She shrugged. “There was nothing in the morning news about a bloody tsunami, so I didn’t take an umbrella. It only started raining when I was halfway here. It’s not like I was gonna turn back around.”

Richie put her coffee on the countertop with a smirk, as he eyed Y/N and his cousin. He turned his mischievous eyes towards her. “How many?”

“Four,” she replied, putting her hand in the inside pocket of her jacket where her wallet sat. Even that was soaked through. “And the Italian beef sandwich as well, please.”

Carmen stood there, his arms crossed over his chest, and Y/N couldn’t deny that the way his biceps flexed was anything short of salivating worthy, so much so she had to avert her gaze towards the box Richie was filling.

“You gonna make her the sandwich, cousin?”

“Not if she plans on going home with it.”

“Why not?” Y/N snapped her head towards him, her tone like an offended child’s.

Carmen scoffed. “As if I’d ever let you go out in that torrential rain.” He nudged with his chin to the weather outside. “Give me a plate, she’ll have it in my office.”

“Carmy, I’m not the Wicked Witch of the West. I won’t melt.” Y/N sighed but gave him a soft smile.

His own lips tugged up at the corners, voice much more gentle now. “And I’m not gonna let you get sick. Now come on. You can eat the sandwich in the office and put the clothes on the heaters to dry out. I have some spare ones I can give you.”

“Bear,” she started, but he already had put the made sandwich on the plate and was waiting for her to follow.

With a deep sigh, Y/N hung her head and grabbed the box of doughnuts and her coffee.

“Sorry for the puddle,” she said over her shoulder to Richie.

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll just tell everyone you peed yourself.”

All Y/N did was flip him the bird before entering the kitchen.

She’d met the chefs a few times when Carmen had invided her to family, and she truly loved each and every one of them. Sydney, Tina, and Sugar had even added Y/N to their group chat, but their interactions in real life were limited to moments like these or when they came to Carmen’s and her apartment to try out some new recipe on a day off. Carmen usually regretted introducing his roommate to them because absolute chaos reigned then.

“You do know swimming in clothes is dangerous, right?” Marcus called from the back of the kitchen where he was rolling out some dough.

“Ha ha, very funny. Just remember,” she shook the box in her hands in his direction. “The fate of your doughnut recipe is in my hands.”

“Be gentle with me, I’m sensitive,” Marcus said, making Y/N snort, and Sydney rolled her eyes from where she was concentrating on chopping up some vegetables but waving at her in greeting nonetheless.

“Don’t you look like a New York rat,” Sugar chuckled as she appeared from the freezer, Tina on her toes.

“Thanks, it’s my new aesthetic,” Y/N batted her eyelashes, and she would’ve continued to stand there and talk with everyone else had Carmen not nudged her in the side and wrapped an arm around her waist, turning her towards the office.

“You need to get in some dry clothes, and then you can blabber about. Don’t need you to catch death.”

Y/N looked at him, raising a brow. “Yes, because I act as if I’m dying when I get the sniffles. Not you. No, never you.”

“Just get in the office.” But the smile on Carmen’s face was unmistakable.

He placed her sandwich on top of a stack of papers, not really caring about them and went to rummage in his backpack where he’d put a spare pair of sweats and a jumper, he’d worn underneath his jacket that morning. Winter was approaching Chicago, so layering was starting to become a standard.

Carmen sat down on the chair, untying the laces of her boots. “Come on, step out of them. Socks too.”

Y/N did as told and tried to keep her thoughts at a PG-13 kind of a place, but Carmen, almost on his knees before her, did horrible things to her mind. Horrible, terrible, salacious, delicious things.

She put her hands on his shoulders and rested against them, hopping out of the squelching boots and letting him put some warm woollen socks on her feet he’d also placed in the backpack with him.

Once that was done, he went to the heater and put the wet boots and socks below it, giving Y/N the change of clothes and showing where the bathroom was.

When she was back in his office, not without a sly look from Syd, to which she just grumbled, “Don’t you dare start,” he pointed at the chair and made her sit down.

“Now you’ll eat your sandwich and doughnuts, drink your coffee, and I’ll let you leave only when the rain stops,” he instructed her like she was one of his chefs.

“But I feel bad,” Y/N whined. “It’s already shitty enough I’ve intruded on you and taken you away from work, I don’t want to inconvenience you more as is.”

His brow furrowed immediately at her words. “Don’t say that. You’re never an inconvenience, you hear? Never.”

For a moment, it seemed like he was going to say something more, but shook his head no. “Eat your food, drink your coffee and relax, okay?”

“Okay,” Y/N whispered back with a gentle smile, her heart thudding just a bit harder against her ribcage at his words, at his caring. “Thank you, Bear.”

With a small nod and a smile, he left Y/N and ventured back into the chaos of The Bear’s kitchen.

Suddenly, the sandwich tasted a million times better.

***

When he finally got home, Carmen was exhausted. Those couple of hours Y/N had spent at The Bear with him were the most reprieve he’d had from stress in ages. Though he was upset she’d gotten soaked through and not looking forward to the cold she was gonna get after braving that weather, he couldn’t deny the warmth that’d settled in his chest when he’d seen her face at the front of the house. However, all those warm feelings turned into dust when he saw what Y/N had made for herself for dinner.

“What the fuck is that?”

Y/N jumped back from the fridge, a hand against her heart. “Jesus fucking Christ, Carmy! You scared me shitless. When did you come home?”

“I asked, what the fuck is that?” His eyes didn’t waver away from the plate on the counter. Two string cheeses, five pickles, a Reeces Pieces cup, a dollop of Biscoff spread and some breadsticks. It was like the world’s worst charcuterie board to which Y/N was just about to add two slices of pepperoni.

As if in slow motion, Y/N turned her head to look at the plate and then back at him. “Girl dinner?” the statement came out more like a question.

“Girl what?”

“You know, girl dinner.” She shrugged, closing the fridge, and plopping the round pieces of meat onto it.

“No,” he shook his head. “Absolutely not. First, you come to the restaurant soaking wet and probably have pneumonia, and now this sort of bullshit? Not on my watch.”

He tried to reach for the plate, but Y/N was quicker, grabbing it and sprinting underneath Carmy to the sofa.

“Y/N, give it to me, and I’ll make you something of substance.”

“This is substance.” She popped a pickle in her mouth and chewed it.

Carmen huffed, placing his hands on his hips. “Why the hell are you so against me making you some normal food, yet instead you eat… that.”

“What do you mean by that? This is a fully balanced meal – main course,” she pointed at the savory things, “and dessert,” at the sweet things. “Perfectly balanced as all things should be.”

“Don’t quote Thanos at me,” Carmen shook his head. “That’s not doing you any favors right now. Now, give that to me, and I’ll make anything you want.”

Y/N moved the plate behind herself, still standing atop the couch and squinting at him in a challenge. “Make me.”

Something rushed through his body, a flash of heat so intense it almost took his breath away. And call him crazy, but he was almost a hundred per cent sure he saw something glint in her eyes as well, a certain need, but he shook those thoughts away.

Carmen sighed and hung his head. “Please give that plate to me, okay?”

“And what if I want my pickles and cheese?”

“Why do you want to torture me? What did I ever do to you?” but he said that with a chuckle, and his heart skipped a beat as a smile bloomed on Y/N’s face.

“And I told you in the morning,” she hopped off the couch and popped a half a Reece’s in her mouth, “I will not let you cook for me. You’ve done enough of that at work, so sit down and just relax. I won’t perish like some sickly Victorian child if I don’t have proper dinner every now and then.”

He glowered as she passed him and poured herself a cup of water. “And how many times have you exactly had this “girl dinner?””

They continued on like that for close to two weeks – he’d get home, and Y/N would rush to hide what was on her plate before he scolded her. It all came crashing down one evening when he’d walked inside the bathroom, ready to take a shower after a gruelling day at work when he noticed the changes.

“Y/N?” he called out, still holding the shirt and pants he’d taken off in his hands, eyes scanning the little shelf of his stuff. “Can you please come in here?”

He heard the quick pattering of feet before a breathless Y/N appeared around the corner, a strappy sleep top and shorts on with a half-eaten pickle in her hand. Her and her damned pickles. “What? What’s wrong?”

“That.” He nudged his chin towards the shelf. “Where’s all my stuff?”

“That is your stuff.”

“No,” his brow furrowed. “I literally have one shampoo bottle. This is like – twenty different things. Where did they come from?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not twenty, it’s exactly how many one person needs. Besides, you ran out. So, I went to the store and got you some.”

Carmen stammered, still scanning the bottles, but his heart was beating faster in his chest now. She’d gotten them for him without him even asking. She’d thought of him when she’d gone out to the store. He stuttered for a second before looking at the girl leaning against the door frame, chewing on the last bits of the pickle. “At – at least let me pay you back.”

“Absolutely not,” she scoffed, truly offended now. “You don’t let me eat "girl dinner", which, by the way, I enjoy, but I digress. So, don’t think I’m gonna let you use that 10-in-1 abomination." She pointed at two matching bottles. "Shampoo and conditioner, both specifically for curly hair because god knows what you’ve been doing to them is abuse. Body wash and face wash, and no, they cannot be used interchangeably.” She pointed at the other two bottles, explaining what was what and turning around to where on the towel rack three fluffy ones had been placed, all different sizes and colors. “A towel for your body, one for your hair and one for your face.”

“That’s way too many towels.”

“No, that’s precisely the right amount of towels,” she emphasized.

“Y/N…”

“Okay, fine. If you don’t want any of this, no problem.” She shrugged. “Can I go eat my pickles and cheese strings then?”

Immediately, his exasperated look turned into a dark scowl. “Don’t you fucking dare.” He’d already popped a handmade pizza in the oven and had simply allowed Y/N to snack in the meantime. No "girl dinner" on his watch.

All Y/N did was smirk. “Thought so. It’s called a compromise, Carmy,” she squeezed his bicep. “You take care of me, I take care of you, simple as that. Besides, I ran out of my stuff, so it made sense to pick up some stuff for you too.”

And with a peck on his cheek, Y/N left the bathroom, going to rummage in her closet for a blanket for their movie night. But Carmen just stood there, looking at the place where she’d just been.

You take care of me, I take care of you.

Those words echoed in his head like a broken record.

But that’s what they had been doing for one another, wasn’t it? He took care of her, she took care of him.

He made sure she ate proper food and gave her some spare clothes that one morning so she wouldn’t have to brave the rain and get sick. He’d let her stay in the office, clad in his jumper and sweats as she waited for her socks and shoes to dry out. He held her on the nights when the heating turned off in the apartment, and she was shivering in her bed. He helped her through insomnia-filled nights Y/N tended to have when stress from work wound her up to the point she could barely function even though he was dead tired himself.

And Y/N... she always made sure he didn’t bottle up his emotions. She was there for him, listened to his rants, held him when he needed just that, and made sure he always had food in the fridge, not just some pathetic scraps he put together for his own meals. She helped him do the laundry and never complained when instead of their set movie night, he simply came home and collapsed half on top of her on the sofa, dead tired from the shift at The Bear, running her hands over his tired muscles and letting him drift off to sleep in her safe embrace.

They took care of one another.

But not just that.

No.

Not for him.

Because Carmen knew - to him it meant so much more.

He knew he was completely in love with her and would do anything to make sure she was happy.

He peeked out from the bathroom and into the living room, looking at Y/N, how she flitted around the room, leaving chaos behind herself, but god, did he love that chaos. Carmen hadn’t even realized up until that moment, how much he wanted to see her strewn about clothes on the couch, her scattered shoes and used mugs on the countertops. Because it made him feel like he was truly home. Not just in a house he stayed at. Home.

She was his home.

Carmen had entered the living room, standing by the couch and watching how Y/N pulled the pizza out of the oven, dicing up some basil to sprinkle on the still bubbling cheese and tomato sauce while adding some burger sauce on the half she’d claimed as hers, leaving Carmen’s half free for him to add what he wanted.

She turned around in search of the pizza cutter and lifted her eyes, their gazes locking. “You okay, Bear?”

He just stood there, unable to move or speak as his mind ran a mile a minute. And then a string wrapped around his chest and started to tighten. And he couldn’t breathe anymore.

Carmen doesn’t remember when exactly he dropped to his knees, pain shooting up his legs from smashing onto the tiled kitchen floor, but he didn’t drop fully. Y/N’s hands were instantly on his shoulders, palms rushing to cup his face as she tried to figure out what was going on. He didn’t doubt she found pure panic in his eyes. Instantly, she knew what to do.

“Breathe with me, okay?” She took his palm and pressed it to the centre of her chest, his fingers splayed against the skin. “Just breathe.”

And he tried to mimic her, focus on how her chest rose and fell, matching his own breathing to Y/N’s. Feel how her heart beat underneath her skin.

Pathetic, he thought. He can’t even tell the girl he’s in love with his feelings without having a full-blown panic attack.

“Carmy, breathe,” she soothed, pulling his forehead to hers, letting him ground himself in the physical contact Y/N provided. She was solid. Real. There.

Bit by bit, he felt the huge wave of panic recede, but it lingered, like a tsunami waiting to break and rip everything away in its wake.

“What happened?” her voice was low as if she was talking to a wild animal afraid to spook it. “What brought this on?”

“I don’t – I,” he took in greedy gulps of air as Y/N rubbed his back. “I can’t…”

Because he couldn’t. It would ruin everything, wouldn’t it? They had such a good thing going not only as roommates, but as friends, and him confessing he was in love would just shatter that bit of normalcy, and stability he’d managed to create.

Besides, Y/N would never feel the same way about him. Yes, she was kind and sweet and always made sure Carmen took care of himself, but that’s just who she was as a person.

Her grip on the back of his neck tightened, stopping the spiral his mind was falling into.

“Talk to me.” She whispered. “Please, Carmy, talk to me. I need to know what happened so I can help you.”

“I can’t tell you,” he finally got out in between gasps of air. “I can’t. Please don’t make me say it.”

He was shaking his head, but not pulling away. Not that she’d let him, as her nails slowly and gently scraped along the nape of his neck.

“What’s so bad that you can’t tell me?” Y/N murmured.

“It’s not,” he huffed, trying to get a grip on his words. “It’s not bad… I – I don’t think it’s bad…”

“Then why can’t you tell me?”

He bit down hard on his lip, taking a moment to collect himself. “Because it will change things. And I’m scared of how it could change.”

“But change isn’t always so bad. Just look at The Bear, look at how good the restaurant is doing.”

“This is nothing like the restaurant.”

“Then how is it?”

He thought for a moment, eyes closed, focusing on Y/N and her presence.

“Bear, please talk to me. You just had a fucking panic attack seemingly from nowhere, and I’m – I’m scared,” she pleaded.

His eyes snapped up to meet her incredibly worried ones, and yes, scared. She tried to read whatever was on his face, to find an explanation as to what had set it off.

“I – I’m terrified. I’m so fucking terrified,” he whispered.

“It’s okay to feel that way. But I’m here, okay? I won’t let you go through this alone.”

He took in a shuddering breath, breaking their eye contact because he couldn’t do it, not if she was looking at him so intensely. The words were barely audible, but she most definitely heard them. “I’m in love with you.”

There. He’d said it, and he couldn’t take those words back. They were out in the open, and the ball was in Y/N’s court. But to his surprise, her forehead didn't move from his. He could feel the light puffs of air as she breathed out, a slight stutter in the pattern. “And why were you so scared to tell me that?”

“I – I don’t,” and his brain started to swirl again, but Y/N was there, her gentle fingers playing with the small hairs at the nape of his neck, grounding him back in reality. Carmen took a deep breath. “I’m so scared. Of what you’ll say. I can’t lose you, I can’t lose one more person I love. But I also know you deserve so much better than what I can offer. I’m a mess. I can’t afford much. I can’t give you what you deserve. I can barely deal with my emotions, and I have so many issues I sometimes wonder how I’m not completely on my own… But… and I know how selfish this sounds, but I don’t want you to want better… I want you to want me the same way I want you… how need you.”

“Carmy,” Y/N sighed brushing her hand against his cheek. “You will never lose me, alright? Never. As long as you want me around you, I’ll be here. I think you could kill someone, and I’d be there for you to help and get rid of the body. As for that other thing…” she bit her lip. “I don’t think I could ever find anything better than you. Nor do I want to. Not when I already have found you.”

That’s when his eyes finally opened, her Y/E/C ones gazing at him. She gave him a shy smile. “Call us two pathetic clichés for falling for the roommate, but the thought of you going on a date with someone else would probably send me into a complete spiral. Because I do want you the same way you want me. If you’ll have me.”

And that horrible, suffocating tightness in Carmen’s chest released. It was like after years of barely breathing, he could finally get a breath in, and the air tasted so fresh, so filling, it was intoxicating. A drowning man finally coming up for air.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/N chuckled, her thumb brushing against his cheek. “I don’t buy shampoos and body washes and all that shit just for anyone. They were fucking expensive.”

His responding laughter was light. He felt so fucking light, it was amazing.

“I really want to kiss you,” Carmen’s voice was more confident, though still tentative as if he was afraid to push further and cross some boundary, eyes flitting to the ground.

He could hear her small intake of breath before Y/N said, “Well, I’m definitely not ever going to be opposed to that.”

Gradually, his palms roved over her waist and settled against her cheeks, their eyes not breaking away from one another.

Another wave of fear rushed through him, but when Y/N’s fingers splayed themselves against the small of his back, trying to push him closer to her, those fears were diminished. For a minute, he just breathed her in, drank in the feeling of having her so close to him, but when he finally kissed her, when he finally had her lips against his, he pretty much melted. The way her hands wove around his neck and into his hair, as if Y/N couldn’t get closer to him if she tried, was as close to heaven as he’d ever get in this life.

“Can I take you to bed?” His head was spinning as he pulled back for a breath, lips craving to be put back on Y/N’s, but he’d die if he at least didn’t ask. Carmen was trembling so bad he had to bury his face in her neck for a moment to steel himself.

“Are you sure?” Y/N asked, breathless, chest heaving, fingers digging into the bare muscles of his back.

She knew he’d never had a relationship, and what he’d just done – the confession, the kiss - had been a huge step on its own. But when he finally pulled back, and she scanned his eyes, looked deep into them, Carmen knew all she saw was one hundred per cent conviction. He couldn’t deny the pleasure it elicited in him as he felt a shiver run through Y/N’s body at that, her pupils blowing so wide it almost swallowed the Y/E/C color, two black desire-filled pools devouring him.

“Never been more sure of anything.” His voice was low, and soft, but steady, unlike his heart.

Her responding kiss was more than enough of an answer.

Carmen was shirtless, so he thought it to be only fair if he rid Y/N of her shirt, but she was a lot quicker and had it yanked over her head in a split second, so much so he barely noticed the disconnect between their lips, and then she was back on him again. They kissed for a little bit more before he practically itched to take it to the bed.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and helped her stand, and Y/N hissed.

Worry instantly ate at him, making him pull back and scan her from head to toe. “What’s wrong?”

She straightened out, rubbing at her knees. “Making out on the kitchen tiles does nothing for your knees.”

Once again, that tightness starting to coil around his heart, released as he intertwined their fingers and led her to his room. It was simply closer. Carmen could have done with the couch, but he thought she deserved their first time to be on an actual bed where he could properly show just how deep his feelings ran. If saying what he felt was so difficult, maybe showing would be easier for him.

Along the way, he’d rid her of her bra, letting his hands explore Y/N’s body and figuring out what made her sigh and moan and what she didn’t like, so he could focus on doing exactly what made her lose her mind.

He helped her shimmy out of her shorts and threw them somewhere over his shoulder as they stumbled into the room, and she plopped backwards onto the bed.

Carmen leaned over her, hands resting by her head while Y/N pulled him back down to kiss him again. He knew his vices, like cigarettes, but this had to be the newest one, the strongest one he knew he’d never be able to quit now that he’d gotten a taste. Never wanted to quit.

A shrill ring stopped them dead in their tracks. It took him a moment to understand it was his phone ringing.

“Stupid fucking piece of shit,” he grumbled as he peeled himself off Y/N and rummaged through his jacket pockets to find the offending piece of technology. Not even looking at who was calling, he turned the phone completely off so there were no more disturbances.

When he turned back around, he found Y/N kicking her underwear to the ground and crawling onto the duvet.

“I wanted to do that,” he murmured, seeing her naked on his bed.

Y/N raised a brow. “Would you like me to put them back on?”

“Absolutely fucking not, I’m not an idiot.”

Her responding smile made his heart soar.

In an instant, he was back atop her, kissing and grabbing at whatever he could before he slowly traveled down. Carmen relished in the hitch in her breath and the soft way she pleaded his name.

He could spend forever like that – worshipping against her skin. He didn’t need water, didn’t need food or anything else as long as Y/N allowed him to do stay by her side.

Digging his fingers into her thighs, Carmen spread them wide as he made his way down her body before he found himself right where he’d wanted to be for ages now.

“Carmy, wait,” she breathed out, and he instantly stopped, worry blooming in his chest.

“I -,” she huffed. “I want tonight to be about you. It should be about you, not me.”

“Oh, believe me,” he smiled, kissing and biting down on the inside of her thigh before soothing the bite with a kiss, and Y/N’s hips were already rolling up to meet his mouth. “All of this is for me.”

She could do nothing but whimper out, “All for you, only you, Bear,” and let her eyes roll to the back of her head as he finally put his mouth on her.

Maybe later on, he’d confess how many times he’d actually thought about that moment, of having Y/N’s legs over his shoulders with her hands brushing his hair out of his face and tugging at the strands. How he’d dreamt of letting his tongue lick into her and finally taste the best dessert on the planet. Or how he’d once seen her early in the morning with nothing but one of his shirts, that’d gotten mixed up in the wash, a simple pair of cotton panties on and nothing else. He’d had to go back inside the shower and jerk himself off, otherwise, he’d be sporting a raging hard-on for the rest of the day.

But now – now he’d just be enjoying the moment. Revelling in how Y/N’s heels dug into his back, how she tried to pull him closer to herself as if she wanted them to mould together. Relishing in how her nails scraped against his scalp, his tongue circling around her clit while her hips gently rolled against him in a slow rhythm. But most importantly – how she sang his name like a prayer, how she sighed and moaned it into the night air, a symphony only for him to hear.

“Carmy, shit!” Y/N gasped when two thick digits joined and slowly slid inside her.

He lifted two lustful eyes to watch how her mouth dropped open, breasts heaving, and nipples hardened to points, but the most divine moment was when she opened her eyes and looked down at him.

Their gazes met, and it took just a couple of thrusts of his fingers for the Y/E/C eyes to roll to the back of her head, and she was squeezing tight around him, cumming with a moan of his name.

Carmen didn’t let go. He helped her ride out the high, tongue licking and sucking everything Y/N offered like he’d been a man in a drought. Only when she gently tugged his head away, did he let go of her swollen clit.

“Too much,” she whispered out, trying to regain some sense of bearing while he kissed the inside of her thighs. He rested a cheek against one while she carded her fingers through his hair, strands stuck to his sweaty skin.

Finally, Y/N glanced down at him. She extended an awaiting hand. “C’mere please.”

Carmen couldn’t say no. He’d never be able to say no to her. He didn’t want to. If she asked him to kiss her, he’d kiss her breathless. If she asked him to drop to his knees, he’d worship the ground she walked on. If she asked him to say he loved her, he’d give his heart to her on a silver platter. Or maybe not. It was already in her hands, and for the first time in his life, he knew someone would carry it on velvet hands, take care of it, and love it like he’d so desperately hoped.

Y/N moaned when his tongue invaded her mouth, hands cradling his face, the remnants of her orgasm still on his tongue. Her hands grabbed at his ass as if offended he was still in his boxers as she pushed her fingers behind the band and tried to shimmy them off him.

A light chuckle escaped him at her frustration, so to stop her torture, he helped her out by removing the last bit of clothing left between them. Now they were skin to skin with nothing else separating the two.

“Condom?” she asked.

“Shit, I don’t have any,” he muttered, pulling back from the kiss.

“Neither do I.”

For a moment, everything stood still. “Listen, we don’t have to do this,” he said, nervousness overtaking his body. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to just because of what happened right now.”

“I mean,” she huffed, playing with the hair on the back of his neck. “I’m clean. Are – are you?”

Carmen snorted. “I think it’s fair to say, I am clean since I haven’t been with anyone in forever… not like this.” Another wave of anxiety rolled over him, but Y/N instantly quenched his fears of inadequacy that threatened to overtake him.

“I mean, maybe you’re some midnight Casanova I just don’t know about it.”

That made him smile, and a little bit of anxiety left him.

“We don’t have to go any further than this if you don’t want to, but I’m on the pill, and I don’t mind.” She pecked his lips. “We go at your pace.”

“And what if – what if I want to go further? What if I want it to be with you? All of it with you?”

He saw Y/N swallow and nod. “Then we go however far you want. Just as long as you’re sure about it.”

“I just…” He struggled to find the words before settling on a thought. “Can you just… guide me?” he asked, brushing a finger against her collarbone. “Help me make you feel good?”

“It should be good for you too. So…” She pulled him down for a kiss, biting on his lower lip and making him groan. “Don’t worry too much about me. You just gave me the best head I’ve ever had. Now I want you to feel good too.”

Carmen just nodded before he leaned down and placed soft kisses against her neck. He was so overwhelmed by love, by the care Y/N showed him, that he thought he might cry, but she didn’t let him get to it.

When soft hands wrapped around his length, he automatically thrust into the palm, pleasure running through his blood.

She guided him closer, and he took it as a sign to slowly run his cock through her folds. Y/N was already wet from her first orgasm, but as he nudged himself inside, he saw her wince.

“I’m sorry,” he immediately apologized, but she shushed him.

“Just take it slow.” She gave him a small smile. “It’s okay.”

He swallowed. “Are you sure?”

Y/N nodded, giving him a kiss. “It’s just been a while.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not gonna hurt me.” Y/N placed her palm against his cheek. “You could never hurt me.”

After a moment of reassurance, he locked his eyes on her face once more and slowly started to push in again. She helped along, angling her hips a bit more up as he slowly, taking his time, let himself slide into her, Y/N’s walls stretching and adjusting to his girth and length. Carmen felt every ripple, every squeeze and flutter and had she not been begging for him to go all the way in, he probably would’ve just cum then and there.

Finally, their hips rested flush against one another as he slid all the way in. More sweat sprung along his skin, as Carmen tried to hold himself at bay, letting Y/N adjust. The last thing he’d ever want to do is cause her any type of pain. Even make her a tiny bit uncomfortable, so he’d wait until she said she was ready.

She lifted his head from where he rested it against her shoulder, giving him a long kiss. “You can move,” she whispered, gliding her legs up his and letting them cross against his lower back. “Please move.”

And although Y/N'd said to not worry too much about whether she was enjoying herself, Carmen couldn’t do that. Every spare second was spent looking at her face, watching how her eyebrows scrunched in pleasure or how her mouth opened in a moan of his name, because her being in pleasure gave him pleasure.

More sweat sprung along their skins, covering them in a small layer of perspiration, and Carmen kissed Y/N’s chest taking in the salty taste, biting at her neck, her lips and arms, while drowning in the feeling of how her nails dug into his back, and her teeth bit against his shoulder as if she needed to muffle screams of pleasure, marking him as hers.

Every flutter and squeeze against his cock sent more and more ripples of bliss through him, but it was the way she sighed his name, so full of adoration and pleasure and love, that did it for him.

White exploded across his vision as the tight coil that’d been rolling together in his abdomen finally released. His fingers dug into Y/N’s skin harder, anchoring him to the moment and not letting him slip away, making him tether himself to her and what had just transpired, while she tumbled along, a high-pitched whine ringing through the night, her hips locking his in place as she rode out her own orgasm.

It felt like it took ages for him to come back down to reality, chest heaving, tightly pressed to the woman’s underneath him, his hands digging into the soft flesh of her hips with his mouth open in a faltered breath.

His whole body felt like it was made of jelly, his bones turned liquid, and the only thing keeping him from melting fully was Y/N’s soft motions as she dragged her fingers across his back, soothing where her nails had dug into his back so deliciously.

“Was that – was that good… for you?” the words were timid, his eyes unsure as he searched Y/N’s face for any signs she hadn’t enjoyed it.

Her hand lightly rested against his cheek, eyes still closed, a blissful smile on her face. “Ask me that again when I remember how to speak English.”

Carmen’s heart fluttered, and a bashful smile bloomed on his kiss-swollen lips. “You are speaking English.”

Finally, Y/N’s eyes opened, a glazed, almost drunk look to them. “Really? Because you’ve definitely scrambled my brain. Holy shit, Bear.”

He chuckled and leaned in to press a kiss against her lips, a satisfied hum escaping her as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and using his body as a blanket.

After a bit of coaxing from him, Y/N relented and let him go, so he could make sure she went into the bathroom and peed. He might not have much experience sexually or relationshipwise, but he knew the basics and didn’t want her to get a UTI.

He waited for her by the door, and when she exited, probably having expected him to be in bed, the soft smile on her lips made the butterflies in his stomach roil.

“Hungry?” Carmen allowed himself to touch her, a gentle finger running along her collarbone. “We still have that pizza. It’s probably cold by now though.”

She shrugged. “I’ll never say no to pizza.”

“You did yesterday.”

“Because I’d already eaten!”

Carmen scoffed. “A jar of olives is not a meal!”

***

The next day was Sunday which meant Y/N still had a day off, and Carmen had promised he’d sleep in with her even though he needed to open The Bear. They’d spent the rest of the night talking and kissing and having more mind-blowing sex, only drifting off when the sun began to rise. But their rest didn’t last long.

She woke with a start, ripping herself away from Carmen’s warm hold, the cold air instantly making goosebumps appear on her skin. He was up in an instant as well, a warm palm settling on her back as Y/N glared through the wall to the front door.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she grumbled rubbing at her eyes. “What the fuck is wrong with people.”

“I’ll get it,” Carmen mumbled, a bit more awake as his natural body clock had already brought him out from the deep slumber. Pressing a kiss against her shoulder, a pleasant shiver ran through her body, as he helped her lay back down beneath the duvet. “Be back in a second.”

Y/N could hear his feet patter against the floor as he went to the small cupboard and fished out some clean underwear. Call her a perv, but she couldn’t not take a peek and admire Carmen’s ass. A smirk came on her face when she realized she’d left some marks there as well, reddish half-moon imprints of her nails settled deep into the skin. Though it didn’t seem he minded it one bit.

Snuggling deeper into the bed, she closed her eyes and waited for Carmen to come back and join her, though once she heard who was at the door, Y/N knew that wouldn’t happen.

There was slight murmuring for a couple of moments when a loud cackle interrupted the Sunday morning peace.

“Fucking finally, cousin!” Richie’s voice boomed across the apartment and into the bedroom. “Y/N, I hope he treated you right!”

“He treated me perfectly,” she hollered back, understanding there would be no sleeping in anymore. She grabbed one of Carmen’s shirts, fished out a spare pair of his boxers and entered the living room where she found the two – Richie outside in the hallway with the smuggest grin on his face, Carmen with an adorable flush to his cheeks, as he crossed his arms and looked down at the ground, slightly shuffling.

“And I would like a repeat of it,” Y/N grumbled, “but that won’t happen because if you don’t leave right now, I will spend the rest of my life in prison for murder, and I highly doubt they’d let Carmy come on such visits.”

Richie lifted his hands in mock surrender. “I just came to check on dear cousin here. He's never missed his opening shifts, and his phone was completely off. But now I see he was… preoccupied.”

Y/N groaned looking at the clock. She knew it was early, but not six a.m. early. “Murder is illegal, murder is illegal, murder is illegal,” she chanted under her breath as she put on a coffee pot to brew. “Why the fuck is murder illegal?”

“Relax,” Richie chuckled. “No need to resort to violence, I’m already leaving. See you at the kitchen? Actually,” he snapped his fingers and pointed at Carmen. “I’d rather not. We’ll take care of it. You two crazy kids enjoy yourselves.”

“Richie, no I’ll be, there in a couple of hours, just let me -,”

“Nope,” he interrupted his cousin. “Syd will be more than happy to take the lead. Especially, after I tell her why our Carmy was late.”

The aforementioned man dragged a hand down his now scarlet face. “Can you just fucking leave then?”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Richie retreated, and Carmen had almost closed the door when he called out, “Use protection!” and chucked a handful of condoms through the slit.

A louf “fuck you!” was the response he got, and the door finally closed, though they did hear a muffled “I’d rather you fuck each other!” before footsteps retreated down the staircase.

Y/N huffed, taking two cups and filling them with the now-ready coffee, adding two sugars, milk and a dash of brownie syrup to hers. “How upset would you be exactly if I decided to just lightly maim your cousin?”

“Can I help?” Carmen asked with a raised brow, and that elicited a snort from her as she leaned to rest her back against his chest, while two large arms snaked around her waist, and Carmen placed his chin on her shoulder.

“I like my clothes on you, but I gotta admit,” he shyly murmured. “Kinda liked it when you were without any better.”

Y/N’s eyes glimmered as she looked at him through her lashes over her shoulder. “You have every chance to remedy that. I mean, you do have the day off.”

Carmen leaned in and pressed a hot kiss to the side of her neck, the feeling of his lips against her skin making her sigh in pleasure. “I guess I do, huh?”

She felt his body relax against hers, rough fingers skimming her stomach as he swayed them to a song only he heard.

“Come on,” Carmen murmured, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips, his own tasting of the coffee he’d drunk. “Let’s get back into bed.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

They spent hours cuddled up, soft voices interrupting the quiet air of the Chicago morning. Soft words turned into soft moans into soft gasps and pleas and, before long, they were naked again, bodies moving in sync as they reached their peaks together.

And again in the shower, where he slipped into her from behind, after Y/N had washed Carmen’s hair with the new shampoo and conditioner she’d gotten him.

And then on the kitchen counter where he let his tongue explore between her thighs once again, as he made them breakfast despite all her protests of it being his day off and how he shouldn’t be anywhere near a stove.

And then on the sofa where she rode him until she couldn't scream and didn't have a voice anymore as some mindless show played on in the background.

By the time evening came around and they plopped hot and sweaty onto Y/N’s bed because Carmen’s sheets still needed to be changed after the previous night’s escapades, they were satiated and happy.

And undoubtedly very much so in love.

Tags (crossed out wouldn't take):

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstrange

A/N: I am back on my bullshit and I am obsessed with this man!!! Why did I wait so long to watch The Bear!!! UGGGGHHHH!!! He makes me go feral!!!!

P.S. what did you think? I might make more parts with these two :)

2K notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 4 months

Note

whimsical muggle reader who loves taking note of strange occurrences (i swear my shoes weren't here! like luna basically lol) and marauder bf who can't tell her yet about magic but loves doing some tricks for her to find. (you can pick which marauder! i was gonna go remus but i'm biased lol)

Omg I had so much fun with this, thank you for requesting!

Sirius Black x whimsical!reader ♡ 657 words

“You’re such an old woman, Moony,” Sirius says. “Is that a gray hair I see?”

“Your fault,” Remus replies mildly.

“We’re not all obligated to go clubbing whenever the fancy strikes you,” James argues on Remus’ behalf. “I’ve got a match tomorrow, and our poor Moony’s head is hurting him. Give us a rest.”

“No rest!” Sirius cries, standing from the couch as if he’s addressing a weary army rather than two reluctant men. “Rest is for the elderly and geriatric.” He looks at you hopefully. “You want to go out, don’t you darling?”

“I’m not partial to clubs,” you reply, but your attention is already elsewhere. “Remus, if you have a headache, you should have Sirius make you some of his tea. He made me some when my head hurt last week and it set me right as rain.” You glance at your boyfriend, considering you with peculiar smugness. “And the same happened when I had the hiccups a few days ago. He has a remedy for everything.”

James cocks an eyebrow. “Does he?”

You hum in prideful affirmation, but Sirius seems almost sheepish as he sits back down on the couch, tucking you against his side. “I’ve always been good at brewing,” he says to James with a shrug.

“You should make him your tea,” you urge softly.

Sirius kisses the side of your head. “Moony’s headaches are a bit tougher than yours, angel,” he says, adding at your troubled look, “but I’ll make him some later if he likes.”

“Hey,” James says brightly, “what if we go to the pub on fifth? It’s usually quiet in there. We’ll just stay an hour or so.”

You’ve been dating Sirius long enough to know how this goes with his friends—one hour will turn into four before any of them notice—but nod complaisantly at the hum of assent that goes up from the other boys.

“Let’s go.” Sirius hops back up before anyone can change their minds. He grabs your coat from the hook by the door, holding it out for you.

“Oh.” Your mood sinks slightly as you remember your coat. “I should probably go get another from my room. I tore that one yesterday, remember?”

“I fixed it for you.”

Sirius gives it a shake, signaling for you to take it from him. You do, looking at him in awe.

“Really, Siri? That’s so nice of you.” You feel along the hem of your jacket in search of the split you’d made the day before. You can’t find it, nor any of the smaller blemishes the garment had acquired after years of wear. “How did you do this?”

“I sewed it,” he says breezily, shrugging on his own well-loved leather coat.

You run your fingers over where you could swear the tear had been. “There’s not even a line or anything.”

Remus shoots him a look you can’t decipher, and Sirius gives you a somewhat thin-lipped smile. “What can I say? I’m magic with a needle and thread. Put your coat on, baby.”

You realize then that all three boys are already waiting for you at the door.

“Oh, sorry.” You carefully pull on your newly impeccable jacket, following them outside. “Thank you, Siri.”

“Anytime,” he vows, hand finding its way into your back pocket as James leads you all to the pub.

“You’re so good at fixing things,” you murmur, almost to yourself. “My coat, and when you glued my mug back together so well, and when my peperomia came back to life.”

Sirius chuckles. “It didn’t come back to life, angel.”

“It was dying,” you reason. “I couldn’t get it to stop wilting, but then all of a sudden it perked up.”

“You must’ve nursed it back to health,” he replies, and his tone is blasé but the smile he shoots you is oddly pleased. He gives your ass a playful squeeze. “Stranger things have happened, sweet thing.”

Around Sirius, they certainly have.

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lovebugism · 3 months

Note

I had this idea about eddie dating reader who is obsessed with pop boy bands! tysmm

i'm so obsessed with this idea bless you anon — the town freak tries to impress the local cool girl and, in true eddie munson fashion, it doesn't go as quite expected (friends to lovers, fluff, shameless it reference, 1.1k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Eddie stands across the counter at Family Video and lays a collection of cassettes on top of it.

Steve blinks once at the tapes, then twice up at him. “…What is this?” he wonders, visibly dumbfounded.

“Do you interrogate every customer that comes in here?” the wild-haired boy quips, digging into the pockets of his leather jacket for some wadded-up bills. “Just scan it.”

“New Kids on the Block? New Edition?” Steve announces as he bags each plastic case. His chiseled features twist in confusion. “Who are you, and what did you do with Eddie Munson?”

“It’s not for me, dingus.”

“First of all, don’t call me that. And second of all, who the hell is it for then?”

“Someone. No one,” Eddie mumbles, shrugging and shifting his weight on his feet, doing a terrible job of hiding his sudden sheepishness. “Don’t worry about it.”

Steve’s eyes narrow. “A girl?”

“…Maybe.”

“A pretty girl?”

Eddie scoffs an unamusing laugh. “Sure. If that’s the only way your pea brain knows how to describe someone as… uncanny, and demonic, and fascinating as she is.”

Steve’s brows pinch in a subtle horror. He’s not sure what most of those words mean, but they don’t really sound like compliments. He just shrugs and decides not to press it any further. “…Okay.”

“She’s just into this stuff, okay?” Eddie confesses, gesticulating wildly with his ringed hands. “And I wanna like the things that she likes— Is that so bad?”

“Yeah, actually. It’s very, very bad,” Steve answers without thinking twice. He passes him the plastic bag full of tapes with a sympathetic glint in his eye. “’Cause that means you’re in love.”

—————

Eddie stands outside the arcade in wait for you. He knows you always come to The Palace on Fridays — right before the school day ends, so you have a couple hours of peace before the snotty middle schoolers run you out with their post-P.E. stench.

He wears a set of headphones over his untamed curls and a walkman clipped to his jeans. It plays a pop song he’s only ever heard on the car radio. Steve’s radio, specifically. He’s heard you hum it a time or two, and it’s the only time he’s ever been able to stand it — as if he needed another reason to prove Steve right.

He was head over heels, disgustingly, wretchedly, completely, utterly, and totally in love with you.

Propped against the driver’s side door of his van, he exhales smoke from his lungs and sees you walking down the sidewalk.

Your pink tights swish at the knees while your plaid skirt, in a grass green color, flutters around your thighs. Your sweater’s bright blue, and the only thing halfway matching the rest of your outfit is the bright emerald dinosaur pictured on the front of it.

You beam at the sight of him. “Teddy? What are you doing here?”

“I’d guess the same thing you’re doing here, sweetheart,” he quips, playing cool as he snuffs out his cigarette with the heel of his worn sneaker.

“Normally, you’re busy on Fridays… I’m starting to feel like you’re stalking me.”

Eddie’s deep brown eyes narrow, twinkling with dark chocolate. “And how would you know that I’m busy on Fridays?” he teases, tilting his wild head to his shoulder.

You shrug, faltering for a blink of a moment. “Corroded Coffin always performs on Fridays. Everyone knows that.”

“Well, maybe just you and the… four other drunks that happento come to the Hideout on Fridays,” he jokes with a boyish laugh.

“Touché,” you concede, smiling wider. “Whatcha listening to?”

You reach out for him, taking the headphones from his ears like you always do. You place them over your own head and expect to hear something loud and heavy — that’s what you usually catch him listening to, anyway. A wide smile blooms on your lips when a familiar song fills your ears.

“New Kids on the Block?” you wonder with a scrunched nose, voice distant with disbelief.

Eddie had been expecting this. He’d spent ten minutes praying this exact moment would happen, but he stumbles over himself about it anyway. “Yeah. Uh, Family Video— They’re selling tapes and stuff now— To keep from going out of business, I guess,” he stammers, laughing awkwardly as he scratches the back of his neck. “So, I don’t know. I guess, I thought I’d—”

“Buy it for yourself?” you finish for him, with a knowing grin on your petaled mouth. “And then try to impress me by waiting outside the arcade I go to every Friday? Even though you’re usually busy practicing?”

You see right through him with little effort. Mostly because you’re one and the same — hopelessly in love and tripping over yourselves with it.

Eddie nods, then laughs. “Yeah, actually. That’s— That’s the half of it, yeah.”

Your smile quietens when you slip the headphones back over his head, fingers brushing his curls and palms grazing his flushed cheeks. “Maybe we can go together sometime?” you offer and step back from him again. “I can show you where they kept the real music. You know, make sure they got the right stuff to listen to.”

His chest swells. He almost forgets to breathe.

He never, in a million years, would’ve expected his first unofficial date with you to be at Family Video, of all places — but he’s grateful for it nonetheless. He figures he could go just about anywhere and be happy as long as he could look over and see you standing right beside him.

Eddie nods until the words catch up to him. “Yeah. Sure. Yeah. That sounds— That sounds good.”

“I’ll call you when I’m free,” you tease and walk on by him.

You’re always free. He knows that. You’re always everywhere and nowhere all at once. Even now, standing right in front of him, you’ll disappear like you’d never been there at all. You just like to keep him guessing, really, and he knows that, too. It’s why he melts for you so easy.

“Okay,” he nods, rapid and utterly dumb.

“I’ll see you soon. Maybe.”

He watches you meander towards the entrance of the arcade. Words start to bubble in his throat. They spill out before his brain can decide whether or not to actually say them. “Please don’t go girl,” he blurts while the lyrics of the same song croon in his ears.

You spin around and blink wordlessly at him. You don’t look confused, but you don’t look impressed either. Eddie can’t gauge the emotion on your face, and he falters.

“That’s the... That’s the name of… of one of their songs,” he stammers.

He blinks, and you’re beaming again. A golden laugh spills from your lips, like honey and summer and sunshine. “I know, Teddy,” you grin — voice as warm and as fond as your glittering gaze.

He grieves when you turn away again, walking into the arcade without looking back at him once.

Eddie doesn’t breathe again until you’re gone, forgets how to until you’re done clouding his vision.

You’ll be the death of him yet.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: bug turns one

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scarletlizzard · 3 months

Note

OH I SEE YOURE TAKING REQUESTS...what about emo!wanda x emo!reader but wanda is like >:( and reader is more ^_^ happy and then reader is best friend's bucky and wanda is so jealous. idk it can be fluff or smut !! ( i tried to be a little more specific

Jealousy

Pairing: wanda x female reader

Tags Minors DNI: smut, wanda in a skirt, fingering (R receiving), little arguing, jealousy!

A/N: Hiii anon! Thank you soo much for your request!! It's been a busy week sorry for being late, but I hope this is okay and you enjoy jealous Wanda 😊

Wanda knows deep down that you would never cheat on her. She knows how much you loved her, how much you cared about her. In the time she's spent here at the Avengers campus, she's only ever taken a real liking to you, not interested in truly getting to know the others. And you, thankfully, gave her everything she needed.

But right now, she couldn't help the heavy feeling in her chest as she watched you with your best friend.

She stood with her arms crossed, biting down on her lip so hard it may just bleed, staring at you and Bucky. Wanda watches as your hand touches his arm, your head thrown back in a fit of laughter. He smiles at you with fond eyes, and oh, she can't take it anymore.

"Having fun?" She asks, words coming out more bitterly than she had planned.

"Wanda!" You say, and the way you beam at her almost makes her feel guilty. Then Bucky turns too, with his arm slung around your shoulder.

"Come to join in? We could actually use your help. It turns out both of us are shit at baking," Bucky jokes, and you both laugh, looking at the mess around the kitchen.

Your smile fades, though when you see the seriousness in Wandas face. Buckys arm slowly slides off of you, scratching his head awkwardly in the silence. Wanda tilts her head and okay, you were fucked.

"Actually, you know," Bucky clears his throat and looks at the time. "I was supposed to meet Steve for training a little bit ago." His metal arm pats your shoulder, giving you a good luck look before walking out of the kitchen.

"Baby... what's wrong?" You frown and walk around the counter to her, your hands moving up to her shoulders. She shrugs you off, crossing her arms. "What's your problem?" You ask, annoyed she was pushing you away.

"What's my problem?" Wanda spits out, a sarcastic laugh leaving her lips. "My problem is you two are always all over each other! He's always looking at you like he wants to fuck you!"

"That's not true!" You defend, raising your voice to match hers. "Bucky is my best friend, that's it! That's all we've ever been, all we will be."

"Right, okay. You're literally always hanging out with him, I dont see why you have to spend so much time together." She rolls her eyes.

"We're friends!"

"Friends don't eye fuck the other friend! Don't be so stupid."

Your eyes widen at her words.

"Sorry you don't have any friends to hangout with because you fucking hate everyone." You cross your arms, dishing it out as she does.

"Fuck you," Wanda replies.

"Just because you're jealous doesn't mean you have to take it out on me."

Her eyes shoot daggers at you.

"Jealous? I am not jealous." She seethes, taking a step forward. Your back hits the counter as you take a step back, her usually soft green eyes dark as she peers into yours.

"You are so jealous." You bite your lip, taking in her angry appearance. She wore your zip-up jacket over her shirt, a dark skirt around her hips. Her fingernails were still black from when she painted them the other day.

Wanda doesn't speak, she only takes another step, pressing her chest against yours. The tension between the two of you built up with every word spoken.

"I'm not jealous, Y/N. You want to know why?" She asks, her hands move to the counter behind you, trapping you in her presence. You only look up in reply, with a questioning look. "Because you're mine. And if I have to remind you of that again, I will."

Wandas eyes flash red, and you feel yourself being lifted a few inch onto the counter.

"Wanda, what are you-" You look around the empty kitchen and to her, who is now level face to face. Her hands moved to your thighs, spreading them apart, and you've never been more grateful for stealing one of her shorter skirts this morning.

"What if someone walks in?" You ask, feeling the wetness pool in your panties at the way she kisses your neck.

"Hopefully, it'll be him." She mumbles, and your cheeks burn red at the possibility. You feel her fingers slide your soaked panties to the side. You grip onto the jacket she wore, pulling her as close as possible.

"So wet, detka... tell me who made you this way," Wanda whispers, and you feel her fingers dip inside of you easily. You bite back a moan as she begins to move them.

"You, Wanda.. fuck - just you," you lean forward, pressing your face against her neck as she fingers you right there.

"Don't hide those pretty moans, let me hear you."

"I'm yours!" You moan out.

"Say it again."

"I'm yours, Wanda," you pant against her skin, her fingers thrusting inside of you at a quicker pace. When you feel her thumb press against your clit you feel that familiar burn in the pit of your stomach.

"Nobody else is allowed to touch you like this except for me." She whispers against your neck and bites down, marking you as hers. You nod desperately, holding onto her as tight as you can.

"Baby, I-I'm so close," you moan into her ear as her fingers work inside of you, and she smirks at the delightful whimpers that leave your lips.

"That's my good girl... let go detka. Tell them who you belong to," she says, forcing your head out of the crook of her neck. Her grip is strong in your hair, and your legs tremble around her. It's not long before you pathetically are moaning, "Wanda!" Into the kitchen, releasing onto her fingers, your panties now drenched.

Wanda takes all you have and removes her fingers from inside you, slipping them into her mouth. Her eyes burn red at the taste, and she pulls you into a heated kiss, making you taste yourself on her tongue.

You pull back to catch your breath, letting your head hit her shoulder hard. She chuckles at how cute you were and wraps her arms around you, you do the same. The two of you hold each other for a moment as you sit on the counter still.

"I'm sorry, for saying what I said..." Wanda says, her voice soft. Your fingers move in circles on her back.

"I know... I'm sorry, too. I promise there's nothing going on between us. I love you so much." You kiss her jaw, and she smiles.

"I don't hate everyone, you know," she jokes, lightening the mood. "I especially love you."

You can't help but laugh, pulling back to see the now playful look on her face. Wandas soft spot for you made your chest swell, you loved how different she treated you.

"You only love me," you giggle and kiss her nose. She groans and rolls her eyes.

"Fine, you're right," she chuckles and leans forward to give you a sweet kiss.

A noise from behind you pulls you from her kiss, you see Bucky standing in the doorway clearing his throat. You hop off the counter, feeling Wandas arm wrapp protectively around your waist.

"Forgot my phone," he says with a hint of pink on his cheeks and points to the phone next to you. You watch as the phone glows red, and it's suddenly floating in the air towards him. He catches it as it drops in front of him.

You turn to Wanda, watching her eyes return to green with an unbothered look on her face.

"You know, you kinda really scare me. I like it," Bucky says to Wanda, a smile taking over his face. You groan and put a hand over your face. Wanda can't help the smirk on her face, satisfied with herself as the man leaves with a wave.

"Happy?" You ask, turning to look at her satisfied smirk. You take her hand in yours, feeling the cool metal of her rings against your fingers.

"Very," she beams down at you, kissing your cheek.

#marvel #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x you #wanda x fem!reader #civil war wanda #wanda in a skirt ahhhhh #scarletlizzard asks #thank you anon!!!

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jasmines-library · 3 months

Note

Hello ml !! How’ve you been? <3

I was wondering if you’d be up for writing smth with the batfamily, and maybe their reaction to reader coming back home from a sleepover at their partners house, and telling them that they got cheated on?

Have a great day/evening/night <33 🫶

Heartbreak Doesn't Feel So Good.

Hello Hello! Thanks for requesting again, I always love to see you in my inbox. I hope you have been well. Sorry it's a little on the shorter side but I wanted to get this out for you today.

Word Count: 1k

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

The first thing Jason noticed when you stepped through the door was that there were tears running down your face. He had always been observant, but he knew you well. He could tell that your mascara ran beneath your eyes from the way your shoulders were hunched to match your slow movements, gaze firm on the ground. And if he listened carefully enough, he could hear the sniffling that you failed to conceal as you tried to wipe away the evidence of your upset.

“What’s that matter?” He was up in a second, moving toward your side. His face and voice were laced with concern.

You had stayed the night round your partner's house and weren’t supposed to be back for at least a few hours. Jason had seen the way you left, grinning as you carried your bags to the car. But now you stood crestfallen, dropping your bag on the floor in defeat. Something had clearly gone wrong and Jason was determined to get to the bottom of it.

“What happened?” He frowned, helping you remove your jacket.

“I-” Your lip trembled as your eyes filled with tears again. Jason pulled you to his chest and let you weep.

After a tender moment, he guided you over gently to the couch where he sat you down and took your hand in his, repeating his question. His heart nearly broke when you looked up at him.

“They…They cheated on me.” your voice broke as you stuttered out what happened.

Jason felt his fingers clenching to fists.

“What?!” The voice hadn’t come from Jason. It had come from Tim who was passing by the room on his way back from the cave.

“I don’t know what happened…” You sobbed. “I thought we were fine. And then they left for a moment… their phone kept going off. So I checked it. I didn’t want to impose…but I thought it might have been something important. And then I saw her name. And the messages.”

“I swear to god-” Jason nearly growled.

“And when they came back into the room I confronted them. And they didn’t even try to deny it!” More tears streamed from your face, falling hot like acid. Like a lingering reminder. A cruel joke. “They just told me that ‘they didn’t love me anymore’. That they had ‘found someone better’. What kind of an answer is that?!-”

Tim tried to soothe you by placing a gentle hand on your arm. “Shh. It’s gonna be okay kid.”

“But…I don’t understand what I did wrong.”

“What’s going on?” Dick had arrived with young Damian in tow. The pair had been sparring and had decided to check up on Tim following his absence, but were starstruck to find you bawling on the couch.

“What’s wrong little bat?” Damian asked. His voice was surprisingly gentle and held much more concern than you thought was ever possible for the stubborn boy.

All four eyes watched you, anticipating you to speak. But you just couldn't, your mind was too busy and you didn’t dare utter the words that you were trying so hard to believe weren’t true. You knew that the moment you said them again all of your walls would come tumbling down, torn from whatever remaining supports were keeping them upright.

“They cheated on her.” Jason spat.

“What an asshole.” Damian jeered. He had seen how happy the pair of you were and the thought of someone switching up that quickly made him feel queasy.

“Oh y/n/n.” Dick sighed “I’m so sorry. That’s unfair.”

You shrugged.

“Didn’t even give her a reason.” Jason continued. You could practically see the steam coming from his ears, despite how he tried not to lose his temper for your sake. But the more you revealed the harder he was finding it. “Just left her at a snap of their fingers.”

“It’s their loss. They didn’t deserve someone like you in the first place.” Dick told you.

“Exactly.” Damian nodded in agreement. “You’re totally way out of their league.”

“You think so?” You sniffled.

“100%. You’re worth so much more than anything in this world and that asshole didn’t deserve any of you.”

A smile upturned at the corner of your lips. Tim reached out and wiped the tears away from your eyes.

“Hey. No more of that crying okay? It’s gonna be fine.”

You nodded, though you still couldn’t shake the sadness from your bones.

“Wanna watch shitty movies and eat ice cream?” Dick asked, sensing this.

“Please?”

And the four of them moved quickly, gathering pillows which they chucked onto the couch to create a pillow fort of sorts. Damian ran into the kitchen to grab ice cream, though he was uncertain of what flavour so he grabbed two alongside a handful of spoons and a plate of brownies that Alfred had just finished making. Then they made themselves comfortable on the couch, surrounding you in their embrace before letting you decide on a film to watch.

And so the five of you sat there for hours, watching chick flicks and trying to devour tubs of ice cream before it melted completely. As much as they would never admit it, Damian and Tim were mouthing along to the lines of the cheesy films, or singing along to the songs. One of their guilty pleasures. Jason seemed engrossed in the movies too, surprisingly. Though you weren’t sure if he was pretending to be interested and was actually plotting the inconspicuous murder of your partner as revenge. The thought made you chuckle. The five of you stayed bundled up on the couch until slowly, one by one you began to drift off and your heartbreak had been forgotten for a few hours at least.

When Bruce arrived back from his late night patrol and found you all together, his heart warmed. They were always going to take good care of you.

BATFAM TAGLIST:

@aestheticdaisies

@hell-o-kittys

@xxrougefangxx

@mamapucket

@hearts4robs

@harleycao

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halfvalid · 7 months

Text

the blade daughter, pt. 3

ABOUT

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

alternate title: dracule mihawk cures your daddy issues!

rating: mature

characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!dracule mihawk | live action!straw hat ensemble

pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader

word count: 23.6k total | 7.3k this part

description: you finally soothe the uncertainty you've had surrounding going out and making a life of your own. somewhere inside, you find the bravery to finally tell zoro how you'd feel about him.

tags: mihawk's daughter!reader, female reader, canon-typical violence, cursing, no use of 'y/n', pet names per mihawk ('dear', 'darling', 'sweetheart', 'little hawk'), emotional hurt/comfort, slow burn, kissing, confessions, a lil suggestive at the end

author’s note: ANDDDD SHE'S DONE!!! this was a wild 8 day long ride of writing, i'm a bit uncertain about the ending so please tell me what you thought of it!! hopefully you liked the fic, thank u so so much for reading.

The two of you emerged from the room a little while later. You’d finished cleaning up, and Zoro had kept you company as you cleaned both his swords and Hiru. The both of you walked together afterwards, wandering into the kitchen where Sanji had whipped up a meal.

“We’re close to the Grand Line,” Nami reported, having apparently steered the ship far enough away from the other pirates to leave the helm alone. “Should reach the mountain by early morning.” She glanced over at you. “Kuraigana Island first, right?”

“Yeah,” you affirmed. “The Grand Line is… screwed, though.”

“We’ll be fine,” Luffy said brightly. You just shrugged, taking a seat at the table. “Zoro! Did you get everything cleaned up?” Zoro had changed into a fresh shirt, one not so bloodstained, and he gave a curt nod. “Good. Come and eat so we can get ready for tomorrow?”

Sanji passed you a bowl, and you let out a thin breath. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered how and when this had become your norm—it’d been a week with the Straw Hats, now, and—

You dropped your chopsticks in your hand. It’d been a week. “Fuck,” you said, the word dropping out from between your lips before you could stop them. Your entire body had gone rigid, pink flushing up your arms and face as something burned deep inside of you.

Everyone’s heads had snapped up to look at you, matching concerned expressions on all of their faces. “I, um—” you said, scrambling up from your seat, words too big in your mouth. You opted not to finish them, dropping your sentence as you yanked your shell phone out of your jacket pocket. “Sorry, I—”

You shook your head, hurrying out of the kitchen. The cold gust of the ocean breeze hit heavy on your face, and you let out a breath, the gust of air exhaling out of your chest in a rush. You heard footsteps behind you, but the panic hadn’t bled out of your veins entirely, and your hands shook as you tried to open your phone.

Zoro’s hand was pressed over yours before you could snap the case open. You stared down at it, and your gaze lifted, the tremble of your hands subsiding as his warm grasp sunk deep into your skin. “What’s up?” he asked, low and steady.

“I, um—” you swallowed hard, hitching breath soothing at his touch. “Um. It’s—I have to call my dad.”

Zoro was serene, tone even and still. His words from before echoed around in your head, the proclamation of not having patience. It’d been untrue after all. “Did something happen?”

“I’m supposed to have dinner with him,” you blurted. “Tonight. I’ve never missed it before. Because I’ve always been on the island, in our—I’ve never missed it before. I’ve been with you all for too long.”

“I’m sure he’d understand,” Zoro said, though his hand didn’t fall from yours. He paused, lips parted as his eyes ran along your face. “Or is it something you’re upset about?”

“I don’t have friends,” you whispered, words fierce. “I don’t go places. I stay at home. This life isn’t mine. It’s—”

“I don’t think you should dictate what you do based on what your father does,” Zoro interrupted. His tone wasn’t harsh, exactly—but it was strong, tone firm, jaw set as he spoke. “So you miss one dinner. So you’re out and about for longer than a week. Does it matter?”

Does it matter? Your heart pounded in your chest, and you took in a steady breath, trying to soothe the adrenaline that still pulsed in your veins even now. “I don’t… I’m not used to this,” you admitted, somehow managing to keep the contact of your eyes even as your brain screamed at you to look away. “I’m not used to being away from home.”

“Everyone starts somewhere,” Zoro said.

You hesitated. His hand moved carefully away from yours, nudging your fingers to open the phone. Your gaze dropped, staring at the little snail waiting for you inside, nestled in his little bed of velvet. You picked it up, tucking it into your ear as your shaking hands dialed Mihawk’s number.

He answered on the first ring. “Hello there, darling,” he said, and you closed your eyes, a soft exhale leaving your lungs at his voice. “Are you calling me about dinner? I’ll be there in a few hours, I promise. Just finishing up over here.”

“No, actually, um—” you cut yourself off, teeth coming down to halt your tongue. You opened your eyes, turning to glance tentatively over at Zoro. Does it matter? he had asked. Which… it did, right? You weren’t a part of the Straw Hats. You hadn’t joined their crew; you’d been insistent on that, pushing away any idea of a life out at sea in exchange for the comfort and familiarity of your home lifestyle. But you’d been making bonds with them despite, and helping them out with their ship, and fighting alongside them in battle. And you’d just patched up Zoro’s wounds a mere hour earlier. You didn’t make friends.

But you were making them.

“I’m not going to dinner this week,” you said, the words all slurred as they spilled from your mouth. There was a pause of surprise on Mihawk’s line before he spoke again. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling Zoro’s gaze on you.

“Finally departed from the nest, have you, darling?” Mihawk said. His voice was soft—tender, almost. “Very well, then. Any idea when you’ll be on the island next, or shall we keep it a suspended date?”

“I should be home in a few days,” you said, voice hitching in your breath. “I’ll—I’ll call you! I don’t know what I’m going to do afterwards, but I’ll—I’m not going to just disappear.”

“Well, of course,” Mihawk said simply. You tightened the squeeze of your eyes, trying to suppress the tingling prickles at your waterline. “I’m glad you’re making friends, dear.”

You made a face, letting out a breathy scoff. A defense mechanism, really. “Don’t get mushy on me, old man.”

“Me? Mushy?” There was a staticky scoff crackling over from Mihawk’s side of the line. It was such a simple conversation, so—why was it driving you to tears? “I could never, darling, do you even know me? I’ve got to fly, anyway—there’s some pesky pirates around here I’ve got to deal with.”

“Bye, dad,” you said, the words choking up your throat, all raggedy at the edges, too big as you shoved them up and through your mouth. They grazed your tongue, but the points weren’t edges; they didn’t draw blood. “I—um.”

The Dracules did not say I love you. Your father was doting, certainly, but he expressed his affection in far more unspoken ways. Presents from all four Blues. A weapon of the highest caliber quality when you were thirteen. Personal lessons in sword fighting. The murder of anyone who dared send an off look in your direction.

“Me too, little hawk,” Mihawk said simply. “Now go have fun.”

The den den mushi let out a soft little croak, signaling that Mihawk had hung up. You let your hand fall, the fingers holding the case of your phone going slack. Air punctured your lungs as you inhaled, the salty, crisp breeze loosening your muscles with every breath.

“Are you alright?” Zoro asked. The words were gruff, awkward. Like he wasn’t used to saying them. You tightened your grip on your case, and then tugged the snail out of your ear, setting it carefully back where it belonged. You met Zoro’s gaze, heart thudding a bit faster as you saw flickers of concern in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you said. “I think I am.”

The sun shone bright on your face, the weather of the Grand Line being more forgiving today as the ship sailed carefully through the ocean. Your route was still towards Kuraigana Island, although you were growing more split about it by the second. You’d just had a conversation with Mihawk a day or so ago about you not being at the house—and the fact that you’d have to choose whether to go home and potentially never see the Straw Hats again was a decision that gripped heavy at your heart.

“Looks like you’ve got a lot on your mind.” You glanced up to see Zoro at your side, forearms propping at the Going Merry’s railing as he gazed out at the ocean. You shrugged, eyes flickering down his side profile before falling back to your hands.

“I don’t know,” you said. “Just thinking about what to do, I guess.”

Zoro fixed you with a look. “You should try not doing that.”

A startled laugh escaped your throat. “What? Thinking?”

“It gets old,” Zoro said with a firm nod, brow slightly creased to shield his eyes from the sun. “I’d recommend dropping it for at least a few hours. You’re getting wrinkles.” One of his hands moved upwards to nudge against your forehead, and you ducked, another laugh gracing the edges of your lips.

“Right,” you said, dubious. “How are your wounds?”

“I’ve taken worse,” Zoro said with a shrug. “Though I guess I’ve still got that one, huh.” He grimaced, lips tugging back to bare his teeth into a scowl. It took him a while to speak again, and you turned your gaze back towards the ocean, waiting for the unspoken words to leave his lips. Minutes ticked by, but you just basked in the sun, trying to air your mind of any thoughts. Maybe Zoro had a point, there—sometimes it really wasn’t necessary to think at all.

When Zoro finally spoke, his words were quiet; muttered under his breath. You had to strain to hear them, as the thin ocean breeze swallowed them up almost immediately. “I really thought I could beat him.”

You huffed out a breath, unsure of what to say. Unsure if Zoro even wanted you to say anything. Your grip on the boat’s railing tightening, palm running across the soft wood. You found words falling out of your mouth anyway, though, although you yourself were surprised by them—“You can.”

Zoro glanced up at you, surprised. “Maybe not now,” you hastened to say, not wanting to add to his clearly already-inflated ego. “But you’re good. You’re good enough to beat him, eventually. In a few years, given the proper time and training. I think…” You swallowed down the phlegm in your throat, alarmed by how wet your voice was starting to sound. You took in a breath, steadying your tone, making certain your voice wasn’t quite so thin or reedy. “I think that’s what scares me about you.”

“I’m sorry,” Zoro said, all low and hushed. You just shrugged.

“I don’t mind,” you answered. You felt his eyes on you, burning like a sun on fire, like the stars dotting his skin were crisping over your skin, charred and burnt and broken. Or maybe it wasn’t quite so destructive. Maybe it was a tender fire, crowning a pile of wood and cared for with iron stakes, embers glowing deep in the night to keep warmth fueling a pot of soup, or healing ragged hands after a long battle.

“Let me get you a drink.”

Zoro disappeared. He returned with a flask, handing it over to you after unscrewing its cap. You knocked it back—it was rich but bland, all dry and earthy. Sake. You’d pegged him more as a beer guy. “Thanks.”

Zoro’s gaze didn’t move from your figure. It was warm, you decided then. The swordsman was vicious at times, relentless in his fight, sinewy figure slashing cuts into flesh as he sparred with his enemies. But there was a distinction behind the hot, heavy iron of those glares at the look at which he placed upon you now. You couldn’t go as far to say his eyes were tender, or soft. But they were warm. Fire was a calamitous thing, but it had its blessings.

“Let me take you out,” Zoro said suddenly. Your entire body froze, murmurs of warmth and tingling buzzes pricking up and down your spine. Something inside you lurched—no, it didn’t lurch, didn’t have the unpleasant sensation associated with it. It was softer, burning, guttural. Like a sharp knife cutting straight through your abdomen, sliding into your stomach, prying apart the bones like they were putty. Your chest squeezed inwards, heart pulsating with soft pangs of something. Hunger; desire, maybe. Yearning.

“Why?” you asked. Zoro just shrugged, effortlessly casual in his movements. You saw a hitch in his throat, a flicker of something in his eyes, a strain in his jaw. Not so effortless after all. “Actually, more importantly—where?”

“I’ll figure something out,” Zoro answered. “Is that a yes?”

You turned, glancing up at him tentatively. “I’m not used to this sort of thing,” you said carefully. Zoro just shrugged. He still looked effortless, all guarded, but you could see the tremors and quivers underneath.

“Neither am I.”

You pursed your lips, raising your face to let the sun glow down onto your skin. “I have a rule, though,” you said, voice lifting up, more of a tease now. There was a ghost of a smile at the edge of your words, although your mouth wasn’t shaped in one. It was hesitant, careful not to scare you, really; creeping on you inch by inch. “I can’t go out with men who haven’t beaten me in combat.”

Zoro snorted. “I have beaten you,” he said. “But if you want a rematch—”

“Let’s not strain your injuries too much.” Zoro let out a scoff, but it was light-hearted, laced with amusement. You just shook your head, the dawning smile at the edges of your lips now, tugging them softly upwards. “I accept a loss when I get served one. You beat me, fair and square.”

“So I get to take you out now,” Zoro murmured, words careful, hovering in the air just barely out of his lips. He turned towards you, the sun outlining his face with a soft glow of gold and orange. He didn’t smile, but there was that soft, burning look again, lips slightly parted, taking in air. “That’s the rule, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said. “It is.”

“Tonight, then,” Zoro said. “Ten. Aftercastle.”

You spent some time contemplating what to wear. You hadn’t brought a very expansive wardrobe along with you, only the essentials, so there wasn’t much to choose from—just some shirts and pants, no dresses or skirts in the bare bones of your luggage. You eventually picked out your favorite of the grouping, sliding your signature jacket on like usual, Hiru fastened securely in its scabbard at the back.

Zoro was waiting at the afterdeck when you arrived, dressed in a dark wrap shirt and his usual green obi. The cloth was nicer, though: his pants were missing their usual wear and tear, and his shirt looked to be made of finer cotton. “Hi,” you said, slipping up next to him. The tangerine tree’s leaves brushed at your ear, and you glanced up at it. The fruit was ripe, round and as bright orange as Nami’s hair.

“Hey,” Zoro replied. One of his forearms was propped against the afterdeck railing, and the other wrapped around the side. You put your hand beside his, pinky just inches away from his. “Do you know any constellations?”

“Some,” you said, squinting up at the sky. You could point a few of them out, but not many—the sky was cloudy tonight, most of the stars blocked out by dull puffs of gray and blue. “You?”

“No,” Zoro answered. “Was never really interested in that kind of thing.” He glanced over at you. You’d turned your attention on the trees, again, plucking one of the tangerines off the branches. The tree trembled, its leaves quivering with soft swaying motions. You dug your nails into the flesh, peeling it carefully. “Why’d you just stay home?”

“I don’t know,” you said with a shrug. “My dad used to not let me leave. He stayed with me until I was maybe twelve, for the most part. Then he started going out more, but he didn’t want me to come. Something about it being dangerous. He dropped the ban when I was sixteen, but…” you hesitated, tucking the shredded pieces of tangerine peels in your pocket. “I just kind of stuck with it, I guess.”

“Weren’t you lonely?”

“Kind of.” You broke the orange in half, moving on to pick at the pith with your fingernails. You gathered that up, too, little white lines piling up in the crease of your palm.

“Yeah, me too.”

“He always wanted me to leave, I think,” you said. “To find my own life. I was always happy staying there with him, though. Or waiting for him.”

“You wouldn’t be abandoning him by leaving,” Zoro said.

“Logically, I know that.” You peeled a piece of orange off from a half, offering it to Zoro. He took it, carefully pushing it between his teeth. He broke skin, a burst of piquant citrus juice dripping on his lower lip. Your eyes lingered there a moment too long, but you looked away a second later, speaking again. “I think it’s just a habit, really. I worry.”

“I mean, he’s a Warlord of the Sea. I think he can take care of himself.”

“It’s not that I’m worried about,” you said with a sigh. You popped a slice of orange in your mouth, sucking at the tart juice. “I don’t want him to get lonely.”

“That’s not really your responsibility,” Zoro answered. His pinky crept closer to your hand, from where you’d returned your grip on the railing. His touch was feather-light, a soft breath of skin against skin that was there and gone again within a moment. “Did you think any more about it?”

“I didn’t,” you said. “Took a page out of your book.”

“It’ll come to you eventually,” Zoro said. “Like that one Shanks guy said—actually, I don’t remember the quote. Ask Luffy about it in the morning. He’ll probably go on for a few hours.”

You snorted. “You’re kind of bad at giving advice, Zoro.” The name came easily, and you stopped, feeling the syllables on your teeth. It was comforting. Natural.

Zoro seemed a tad bit offended by that. “At least I’m trying,” he muttered, voice defensive but not hostile. “Onto lighter topics?”

You popped another tangerine slice in your mouth. “Like what?”

“Nothing light about my life, so I’ve got no idea.” You snorted, choking on the orange that’d made its way halfway down the passage of your throat. You coughed, shaky laughs escaping your lips as you cleared your airways. An amused smile had perched on Zoro’s face, eyes glimmering with warmth as he watched you.

“That was unnecessarily edgy,” you protested. You finished with your tangerine, letting the pith flutter out of your palm, some of the white floss sticking. You didn’t mind it.

“Got a laugh out of you, didn’t it?” Zoro nudged you, the skin of his finger pressing fully against your pinky. This time, he didn’t move away, letting the warmth of his skin bleed into yours.

“You never answered my question.” You raised your pinky, lifting it to brush against Zoro’s knuckle. Carefully, you slipped it into the gap of his interdigit, looping your fingers together so they were intertwined. Zoro exhaled shakily—you glimpsed his other arm moving away from the railing, lowering to his side. “Why you wanted me out here, I mean.”

Zoro pulled up a flask, unscrewing the cap with one hand. He didn’t drink, though, just held the bottle suspended in his hand. He didn’t say anything for a while, letting the soft rush of water from below and the tranquil rocking of the boat fill the silence. For a moment you thought he wasn’t going to say anything at all. To your surprise, though, he raised the flask to his lips, taking a short sip before letting his hand fall again. “You feel different.”

“Care to be a little less vague?”

“I don’t know if I can,” Zoro said carefully. His guard was up, that much was sure. You didn’t exactly blame him. “Things have changed since I joined Luffy. Sometimes I can’t describe it.”

“The crew,” you said. “It makes sense.”

“It does,” Zoro agreed. There was something magnetic about it, about him—something that drew you in. But you weren’t afraid of it, really. The Straw Hats weren’t scary. Their bared teeth weren’t fangs; their canines remained unsharpened at their maw. Their lure was more peaceful than that. “We like you. You fit in.” He paused, mouth slightly ajar, a tremor of something on his lower lip. “I like you.”

Your lungs were empty, devoid of air. Something in your chest clawed at you, trying to climb up your throat, compressing your organs. Zoro’s touch burned into you, interlocked fingers searching an imprint in your skin. You were certain you’d feel it for hours; days; months; years after. “I think I like you too,” you said.

“Well, you like my earrings,” Zoro said easily. “That’s a start.”

You turned towards him, at his open stance, tucking yourself in the space between his figure at the side of the ship. The motion forced Zoro to raise your hands away from the railing, but he slid with the action easily, fingers fully interlacing with yours. His other arm remained propped along the ship, flask in his fingers, the skin of his forearm brushing against your side. Your free hand raised up to skim along his earrings, dull clinks of the metal sounding out at the emotion. “I do like your earrings.”

“Enough to let me kiss you?”

You tugged gently at Zoro’s earlobe, angling your face up to meet his. “Yeah.”

Zoro kissed you square on the mouth, mouth full and open, hand slipping around your back. The edge of his sake flask dug into your spine, but it wasn’t a sharp pain, and you didn’t mind it. Your fingers tightened against Zoro’s, chasing his lips with yours, letting him swallow you whole. He was patient with it, smooth and languid; tongue licking into the crevices of your mouth, firm as he mouthed kisses at the lines of your lips.

You breathed in from his lungs, chest getting tight as he sucked the air clean out of you. Still, you were addicted, utterly devoted as his fingers nudged against your hand and his tongue skimmed along your mouth. He was a good kisser, effortless and smooth, nearly elegant with his motions. He tasted like sake; earthy, woodsy, reminiscent of some sort of mushroom, maybe. It suited him well.

You let out a little whimper as Zoro’s tongue pressed deep to your throat, and he swallowed it up, flicking lazily along the roof of your mouth. You were getting short of breath, though, so you placed a gentle litany of faint kisses along his mouth before tilting your head back and letting the night air puncture your lungs. Zoro’s pupils had gone wide, deep black swallowing the walnut of his irises. His hand pulsed against yours, steady as ever, but he didn’t speak.

“I like more than your jewelry,” you said, staring down at where your fingers tangled with his. They looked like two pieces of a puzzle, extremities manipulated to slot along each other, palms molded together. “I like the way you move, and the way you fight. I like your face.” You hesitated, playing with Zoro’s fingertips to distract you from your words.

“You don’t have to say it,” Zoro said.

“No, I think I do.” A ghost of a smile flickered up your mouth; a corpse, really, one that had forgotten it wasn’t really dead after all. “I like you, Roronoa Zoro.”

Zoro’s fingers squeezed tighter against yours. There was no click, no noise of finality, no settlement of a suspended thread. You supposed it didn’t work like that. Life didn’t stop and end. You went on. You’d see Zoro in the morning, again, after you’d gone to sleep, and things would continue like normal. “Okay,” he said. “Late enough for you to go to bed, yet?”

“I could go either way,” you answered. “Staying out here wouldn’t be so bad either.”

“Fine by me,” Zoro said, not moving from where he stood. “So, Lady Dracule. Where to next?”

“Wherever the breeze takes me,” you answered, but there was a decision settling down in your chest. One you weren’t so afraid to look at anymore.

Kuraigana Island was just as you’d left it, sky dark as night even in the middle of the day, rotted ground crunching dust and rocks underneath your feet. The Going Merry had docked in one of the number of homemade boat berths Mihawk had made sometime in your youth.

Usopp let out a low whistle as the Straw Hats stepped onto the island, head practically turning around in a 180 degree spin as he craned his neck to look around. “You live here?”

“It’s quaint,” you said defensively.

Nami gave you a sympathetic look. “It really isn’t.”

“Why is the sky black?” Luffy murmured in amazement, casting his gaze upwards to the overhang of rumbling clouds that existed perpetually over the island. “Have you never seen sun in your life?”

You rolled your eyes, leading them through the gravelly path up to your house. Their reactions were, well, nothing short of the expected—Sanji’s eyebrows lifted, and Zoro let out a low whistle as he took in the sight.

“It’s like Kaya’s house,” Usopp breathed. “But… bigger. And more spiky!”

“It needs a paint job,” Nami deadpanned. You snorted.

“I’ve been trying to get him to renovate for forever. Good luck.” You cleared your throat, suddenly awkward as the group walked closer and closer to the house. Your footsteps slowed, until you came to a full stop a few meters off the front door. The Straw Hats grouped around you, curious. “Just… don’t be weird, please. Nami, don’t steal anything unless it looks like it hasn’t been cleaned in thirty years. I only bother to polish the important stuff.”

“Is that an open invitation to rob your house?” Nami asked with a snort.

“Do you have any food?” Luffy asked.

“Probably not. My dad can’t cook for shit. Sanji can make something,” you said. “Our kitchen’s kinda nice.”

“Working in a Warlord’s kitchen? I’d be honored,” Sanji said, with a little flourish of his hand. You rolled your eyes, but Luffy at least seemed satisfied. You glanced over at Zoro, who was the only one of the group who hadn’t said anything up to now—his lips were set into a thin line, but he met your gaze, and they flickered upwards just a quarter of an inch. The action was reassuring, almost, and you were soothed enough to start walking again.

The door flung open before you reached it, although the sudden motion didn’t startle you like it did to your compatriots. Dracule Mihawk stood in the doorway, dressed in his usual hat and jacket, Yoru heavy off his shoulders like usual. “I thought I heard footsteps,” your father trilled, voice wonderfully monotone as he bent in front of you, taking your hand to press a gentle kiss upon your knuckles. “Have you brought your friends along, darling?”

“Clearly,” you said with a soft laugh. It was like all the tension evaporated from your body as soon as your father got near, and you found his hand, giving it a tight squeeze before turning to your friends. “Do you need introductions, or do you know them all already?”

“I only remember the future pirate king and the swordsman,” Mihawk said with a dismissive wave. “Oh, and Yasopp’s child. It’s no matter, really. Well, come on in, you’re letting in the cold air.”

Usopp stuttered something incomprehensible about his father, but Mihawk had already disappeared. You glanced over your shoulder at the rest of the Straw Hats. “He’s like that,” you said apologetically. “Just… come in.”

They followed you into the house, glancing around the lobby to take in the decor. You had to admit, a lot of it was rather gaudy, but it wasn’t like Mihawk cared much about what adorned the walls, and you had little resources to work with. Sanji made quick work moving to the kitchen after you made sure that Mihawk hadn’t prepared dinner.

“So,” Nami said, the words mulling around in her mouth as she lounged by the kitchen island. “Nice place.”

“It’s kinda scary-looking,” Luffy said honestly. “Interesting choice of decoration. I guess if you like it, though.”

“Are you okay on your own for a moment?” you asked, getting up from your seat. “I’m going to go talk to my dad.” Luffy nodded, and the others all hummed their assent. Zoro caught your gaze—soft, curious. You just gave him a reassuring smile and slipped out of the room.

Mihawk was waiting in the living room, long body stretched supine along the couch, booted feet thrown up on the arm. You narrowed your gaze at it. “Don’t put your feet on the furniture,” you grumbled.

“Sorry, dear,” Mihawk said, though he made no move to alter his position. “Did you end up getting that jacket for me?”

“I did,” you said, glancing through the satchel that hung at your hip. You pulled it out, folding it with a solid shake and holding it up for Mihawk to see. His golden eyes flickered up and down the garment, taking in the material. Black cotton twill, with red paisley silk as the lining, delicate red lace at the hem and sleeves. The lapels were wide, buttons shiny and black, and it used red stitching rather than black, giving a sort of exoskeleton look to it. Mihawk sat up, pushing his hat back.

“It’s beautiful, darling. I love it.”

You folded the jacket in half, slinging it across the back of the sofa before moving around to face Mihawk fully. “About the crew.”

Mihawk glanced up to meet your eyes. “Yes?”

“I…” you took in a breath, the inhale shaky in your lungs, bones and muscles rattling in your chest. “I think I’m going to stay with them for a little while, if you’re okay with it.”

“The Straw Hat crew,” Mihawk said carefully, shaping the words on his mouth, tasting them on his tongue. “My daughter, part of the Straw Hat crew. Well, it’s not the most terrible-sounding thing to say, I suppose.” He paused. “No idea why you’d think I wouldn’t be okay with it, though, sweetheart. I’m not horrendous.”

“Well, I figured—” you started, voice trailing out into a protesting whine. “You’d be against them? Garp sent you after them. One of them tried to kill you.”

“Oh, you know I don’t hold grudges over such trifling matters,” Mihawk said with a dismissive wave. “Roronoa Zoro, right? He was watching you the entire time you entered. Wouldn’t take his eyes off you, darling.” There was a particular glint in his eyes, hunted, like he was searching for a quarry. “Something to tell me?”

“No,” you said, too fast. Mihawk lifted both brows, and you broke almost easily. “Maybe. No. He’s—no.”

Mihawk clucked his tongue, sounding amused. “I suppose your rebel streak was bound to come out eventually. And from what you told me, he did beat you, so I can’t exactly complain.” You flushed, warmth heating up your skin, bringing a rosy blush to your cheeks. “Make sure he doesn’t get himself killed before I can fight him again, will you, little hawk? I’ve got my eye on that one.”

“Okay, dad,” you muttered, but the tension of your shoulders had gone slack, and your muscles were loose.

“Will you be leaving after dinner, or will you stay until the morning?” Mihawk asked, standing up to his full height. He stretched, sinewy limbs long and supple. He looked nearly odd without Yoru perched along his back. “I’ve missed you.”

“Morning,” you answered. “I’ve missed you too, dad.”

Mihawk smiled at you. “Go make sure our guests aren’t burning down the kitchen.”

Dinner was less of an awkward affair than you’d expected. Usopp spoke the most through it, and Mihawk was fine to goad him on, occasionally switching topics to inquire about the rest of the crew.

Sanji had made a fine meal; a grilled steak and onions with a side of asparagus to some kind of white sauce pasta you didn’t recognize. It felt… nice, really, having them all around you. Mihawk certainly knew how to socialize, and Luffy didn’t seem to mind his acerbic tendency.

“And after I defeated all the enemy pirates,” Usopp was rambling on, “We hit a cannon straight into their mast, and it came crashing down! Oh, you should’ve seen it, man. It was me—well, Luffy—I guess he was the one that chucked the guy into the ship, or whatever. It wasn’t actually a cannon, but the details aren’t that important—”

“What about my little hawk?” Mihawk interrupted, and you had the vague sense to start whining. “I don’t suppose she just sat there throughout the whole fight.”

“Oh, nah, she got some guys too I guess,” Usopp said, lazily waving an arm in the air. “She’s the one who stationed me at the cannon, she knew how great I was at it. She almost died to this one big dude—”

“I did not almost die!” you snapped. Usopp cackled out a hearty laugh.

“No, she totally did. Thankfully for her, the great Captain Usopp came to her rescue—”

“Me,” Zoro muttered, words barely audible as he spoke them into his cup. You cracked a smile, and he glanced up, catching your eye. A tender look crossed his face.

“Okay, yeah, it was Zoro who saved her,” Usopp admitted. “Cut the guy’s head straight off his body. But that’s just because I was busy fighting off the other pirates!” He motioned with his hands, mock-punching the air in front of him.

Mihawk just raised his eyebrows. “Did he, now? I hope you thanked him properly for that, sweetheart.”

You shot Mihawk a warning look. “Dad.”

Mihawk didn’t let that faze him, raising his glass of wine to his lips. “You might want to take him around the island. There are some fairly romantic spots here, ones I brought your mother to while she was pregnant,” he said, mouth around the rim of his glass. You flushed, resisting the urge to lunge over the table at your father—clearly, he could see your vexation, mirth dancing in his eyes.

Zoro didn’t say anything, eyes tilted downwards like there was something particularly interesting in his cup. Nami and Sanji were murmuring things to each other, and Sanji raised his voice to speak.

“I knew there was something between the two of you! Come on, Lady Dracule, you could do so much better than the mosshead here—”

“Shut it—” Zoro started.

“You most certainly did not know, and you owe me fifteen hundred berry for that!” Nami said, offended. She elbowed Sanji firmly in the ribs, and he let out a low cough. Her head spun towards the head of the table, where Luffy was sitting across from your father. “Luffy, tell your cook to honor his bets.”

“You bet on us?” you demanded, a squeak of embarrassment entering your voice as you protested. Nami gave you a look.

“Please. You were obvious.”

“Well,” Sanji jumped in, “Personally I thought you had better taste than—”

“I said shut it, waiter,” Zoro said, finally looking up to fix Sanji with a glare. He tilted his head to the side, one eyebrow raised, and you stifled a laugh. “And if I were you, I’d give Nami her money as soon as possible.”

“This is so unfair,” Sanji muttered, but he fished a wallet out of his pocket and slapped a few bills onto the table. “There you are, madam. I hope you’re happy.”

You groaned. “At the dinner table, really?”

“Money waits for no one,” Nami said with a little wink, tucking her winnings carefully into a pocket of her skirt.

“Sanji, did you make dessert?” Luffy wondered. Sanji rolled his eyes, but the sigh he let out was kind and good-natured.

“Well, lucky for you, I did have the mind to bake some cookies while here.” He got up from his seat. You just gave him a dubious look; everyone had more or less finished with their food, though, so you got up, collecting the dishes to wash.

You did chores, Nami hanging around you and lending her aid while the other Straw Hats got comfortable in guest rooms or whatever else. Zoro hadn’t budged from the dining room, apparently not interested in exploring the different parts of your house—you could just barely see him out of the kitchen doorway, nursing his drink as he stared thoughtfully into the distance.

The familiar shape of your father’s jacket joined his side, and you narrowed your eyes, straining to hear. Mihawk had bent over the table, a pleasant smile on his face as he spoke. He didn’t bother to speak quietly, so everyone in the near vicinity heard his words— “If you hurt her, I won’t show the mercy I did the first time. My little hawk’s more important than finding a worthy opponent.”

“Dad!” you snapped, dropping the plate you were in the middle of washing. Mihawk didn’t even look in your direction, even as you stormed out of the kitchen to stand protestingly by the mouth. “Don’t—”

“Oh, hush, dear,” Mihawk said with a dramatic eye roll. “I’m off to bed, then. I’ve got business in the morning.” He came over to you to brush another kiss along your knuckles. “I’ll be gone before you wake up. Safe travels.”

“Good night,” you said with a sigh. Mihawk left, then, disappearing around the bend of the corner to head off to his room.

“...I still don’t really forgive him for almost killing Zoro,” Nami said warily. Zoro got up from his seat, moving over to where the two of you had gathered in the kitchen. “But your dad’s fine, I guess. Not terrible, as far as fathers go.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, then glanced apologetically towards Zoro. “I’m sorry about him.”

“It’s fine,” Zoro said with a careless shrug. “It’s getting late. I’ll walk you to your room.” You nodded, drying your hands on a nearby kitchen towel and prompting Zoro to follow you up the steps. The house was large, a castle, really; all dark and winding, with long corridors and tall ceilings. Your bedroom was grand, on the second floor, with a sweeping balcony and wide windows that bore a full view of the island’s perpetual darkness.

“What’d you say?” Zoro asked, stepping into the room. He glanced around, but didn’t remark in his surroundings, turning instead to look over at you.

“I told him I’d be joining the Straw Hat pirates,” you said. Zoro smiled at that, the edges of his lips curling up.

“Good,” he said simply. You moved towards him, forcing him to back up until he reached the plush of your bed. He sat down, eyes not flickering away from yours, soft brown that held an entire universe in them. Planets lined his cheeks, spatters of galaxies that you thought you might revolve inside. “Living here for years alone doesn’t seem like the most interesting life.”

“It was fine while it lasted,” you said, bending your head down, lips hovering over his. Zoro’s hand came up to press firmly along your waist. “I think I like the ship a bit better, though.”

“Hm,” Zoro murmured, eyes on your mouth. He tugged you down, but the kiss he pressed against your lips was chaste, and he was leaning back again before you knew it. “I decided, by the way. On whether I wanted your dad to like me or not.”

You arched a brow, thinking back to that night so long ago when you’d first heard the words on Zoro’s lips. I’m not sure if I want him to like me. “Well?”

“I do,” Zoro said, nudging against your chest, chin bumping along your shoulder. “It makes sense, with you.”

A comfortable silence filled the space. His thumb ran a tender circle along the skin of your torso. “I should probably pack,” you murmured.

“Eh, you’ll have time for that later,” Zoro said dismissively. You laughed, the sound full, straight out your throat.

“Do I, now?” Zoro’s lip quirked, eyes grazing over your figure. You prattled on as if you didn't even notice. “Did you have something else in mind? You realize after this we have all the time in the world to be together—”

“I told you I was impatient,” Zoro interrupted, and then he was tugging you down, pressing a full kiss to your mouth again. You parted your lips to argue, but Zoro just took that as an opportunity to side his tongue in, and, well—this wasn’t so bad, either. One of your hands came to tangle in his hair, nudging his head just the slightest bit upwards to allow you better access. Zoro’s thumb didn’t stop making lazy revolutions into your skin. “Doesn’t seem like you mind.”

“Shut up,” you mumbled against his lips. You leaned forward, pushing him back onto the bed, before pausing to lean down and unfasten the straps of his shoes.

“You’re a real charmer.” Zoro didn’t complain, though, seeming more than pleased when you returned to kiss him, allowing him to fall back onto your bed now that you’d shed him of his footwear. “Little hawk, huh?”

You huffed out a breath. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s cute,” Zoro said casually, one arm coming to prop behind his head. He drank you in properly, this time, from where you were on your knees on the mattress, unstrapping your own shoes before joining him up on the bed. “You are.”

You met his eyes, and a flicker of warmth crossed over your heart. For a soft, silent moment, you let it breathe. Let it exist there. Let the realization that you may one day love this man fill your soul.

“Come here,” you said, climbing over to Zoro even as you spoke. “I’m going to kiss you again.”

Zoro just grinned.

The Going Merry was just as you’d left it, although Mihawk had provided you with any extra provisions the crew might’ve wanted for the rest of your journey. You’d packed up and brought along your stuff, too, managing to finally decorate your cabin in the ship more to your likeness. Everything was ready, and you stood at the edge of the aftercastle, Zoro to your side as you stared down at the island you’d called home for all the years of your life.

But Kuraigana Island wasn’t your only home anymore, and neither was the hawk eyed man who resided in it whenever he was not busy doing something else. Mihawk had left in the early morning, but the ghost of his presence still warmed you. This way, it was easier to let go, you thought. This way, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

“Casting off!” Luffy yelled, his voice puncturing the stillness of the island air from his usual spot on the goat at the ship’s bow. You turned away from the island, jacket lapping around your legs as the wind whipped against it.

“Ready to go?” Zoro asked carefully.

“Yeah,” you answered, turning away from the island. Zoro stood to your left, one hand perched on the hilt of his sword, the other relaxed at his side. His brows were creased, strong against the shimmer of the glinting sun just barely peeking through the darkness of the island.

The fog washed his features in blue, all blurry around the edges, but you couldn’t help but think he was the most beautiful man you’d seen anyway.

“I’m ready.”

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

taglist: @untoldshortsofthefandoms @ellisaworld @yeonieesss @sarcastic-sourwolf @rouzuchan @dashcrashbash @blossomedfloweroflove @ fangeekkk @winuvs @katiemrty @asexualimmortal @fayetheenthusiast @freedom-kitty @ren-ni @je4nc4tb0y @dwcode @albedosfiance @13-09-01 @dimplewonie @cellgore @ shabzy1644 @applepie972 @mayo0ma @smoochesfromlevi @ csmbrainrot @intoanothermind @junieloonie @yourlocalgoose @swthrxrry @lovefooi @dailybrekker @taeriffic @xxemmarldxx @alastorswife63 @butterfliesinthenightsky @mukeovernetflix @wonuskie @mysingularitybts @sorasolarium @chaitea-69 @wishyouwere-sober @mchlist @bibi-bieber-winchester @prowkarma @loveyluv7 @hhighkey @jesssssmaybankk @threadofdestiny @hinata7346 @thevampiricprincess @wreckmyimage @prettyinsatiable @fairygirl18 @idcalol @bangtannie7 @carav4l @kookie-doughs @bluesiebirdie @endeaz @q8852p @addisonwilkins1 @louweasleymalfoy @alelovesmitski @fnlyroe @swthxrry @jamieeboulos @scarletrosesposts @jesssssmaybankk @vonpeachy @sincerely-aaronette @tsubaki3192

author's note: i also wanted to pop in and say that i'm not opposed to writing more fics/oneshots of this character and in this universe (hereafter referred to as md!reader) with zoro <3 if you guys have any requests pop them in my box when my requests are open, plus i may write some on my own time too!

#opla zoro #opla roronoa zoro #opla #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #reader insert #x reader #one piece live action #one piece netflix #one piece live action x reader #one piece live action x you #opla fanfic #opla zoro x reader #opla x reader #opla fanfiction #dracule mihawk #kiki writes!

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totaly-obsessed · 7 months

Note

Could you write for ella toone that's angst like she looses a match or something and takes it out on r and then tries everything to make it up to r

Groveling Time

Ella Toone x reader request

-> Ella does not cope well after losing a game and takes her anger out on you, her girlfriend

-> First request! Let me know what you think!

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Gamedays were always special, especially for Ella. Being able to represent her childhood club with you by her side was so dear and near to her heart – she loved every single moment of it.

With the new season and not only Alessia missing from the Manchester United crew, but many of her friends having changed clubs, it was tough for the brunette and it was hard on her mind.

You were her rock. She loved knowing that she could lean on you if she ever needed to – a realization that had not come easy to her.

But this week was different, and you both knew it. It was yet another Sunday and Manchester United would meet Manchester City in a derby. This alone was another level of stress, there would be a huge upturn to the game with fans being very dedicated to their respective teams.

But the worst thing for Ella? You could not be there.

It was your grandma’s eightieth birthday and with her being very sick, your family never knew how much longer they had with her. You had asked Ella if she wanted to join you because then you would try to convince the rest of the family to push it to Monday – but your girlfriend insisted that she would be fine and that she wanted you to have a nice day with your family.

During dinner you tried to check your phone as often as you could, trying to stay updated on how your girlfriend’s team was doing. Seeing the 2-0 to Manchester City before the halftime break was hard, knowing how much Ella would blame herself, looking for mistakes in herself. Being the ‘worlds-best girlfriend’ as Ella crowned you, was not easy – but you decided to shoot her a quick text during the break.

‘Hello Gorgeous! Keep ya head up – cannot wait to see you tonight. I love you so much.’

It was sappy, but you knew that the young lioness loved it even if she would deny it till the day she died.

You arrived home before Ella did – so you made dinner.

Ella’s comfort food, knowing that she would not take the 3-0 loss easy. Some leftover cake was chilling in the fridge, waiting for dessert.

But it was getting later and later by the second – without Ella showing up at your shared home. You had texted Katie Zelem oven an hour ago, asking if she was with her and if they had plans for the night. The Manchester United captain however could not help you with your search for your girlfriend – telling you that Ella had left in her car as soon as she could.

By now you were incredibly hungry, having waited for the brunette for three hours seated on the couch, preparing lessons for the following day. At some point, you had turned the stove off and put everything in Tupperware placing it next to the cake in the fridge.

After waiting for a while longer, you started writing a little note to your girlfriend that you placed where she stored her bag so that she would definitely see it. ‘I was tired. ‘Dinner is in the fridge – cake too. Love you!’

You had already gotten ready for bed and nearly fallen asleep when you heard the front door fall shut. With slow steps, you trotted down the steps “Ella?” But you did not get an answer.

With your note in hand, your girlfriend stood in the kitchen. You tripped over her shoes that she had just flung onto the floor, the entryway being a complete mess. Bag in one direction, shoes in another – her jacket just in the middle of the ground. “Baby?”

She had her back turned to you, hands balled to fists by her side, your note crumbled in of them. There still was no reaction. You had gotten closer now, resting your hand on her back, trying to comfort her – but she shrugged you off. “Couldn’t have waited for me huh? First, you don’t show up for my game and then you don't even wait for me!”

Sure, she usually had a loud voice, but now she was just yelling into your face. Ella had turned around with so much force, that she had pushed you back a little. “I’m sorry baby but I was at my grand-“

“I don’t care! You should put me first! We lost because of you and your selfishness!” Tears were quickly making their way to your eyes, mirroring the brunette's bloodshot ones.

She clearly was not herself right now, so you tried to avert her attention. “Do you want me to heat up dinner?” A sharp scoff left you flinching back once she ripped the fridge open.

“No need – you didn’t even wait for me. Already ate huh? What a nice day. Leaving your girlfriend hanging, visiting your stupid family, and eating alone. How fun.” Her words hurt, she spat at you with such anger that it terrified you.

You had never thought that you would fear Ella. But the usually bubbly and funny girl was not herself right now. “And what are you wearing? Always stealing my shit! Don’t you have clothes for yourself?”

Tears were running down your cheeks as you looked at your mirror image in the dark window. You were wearing one of Ellas' big shirts – she usually loved seeing you in her clothes, even making you change out of your own so that you could wear hers.

“I think I will just go to bed baby. Maybe you will have calmed down tomorrow.” Your feet were already on the stairs as you heard her muttering “Sure. Just leave me like you always do.”

It hurt, so much. You opted for the guest bedroom, leaving the brunette in the comfort of your joined room. Once upon a time, you had thought that maybe, just maybe this room could be used for your future child.

If there even was a joined future.

But you were determined to work at what was wrong – not wanting to throw everything away just like that. But Ella did not even enter the bedroom, she left again, the door falling into place behind her as you heard the car start outside.

Just as a precaution, you texted Katie as well As Mary and Millie – explaining to them that Ella was in a bad mood and to please tell you if she showed up at their place so that you knew that she was safe.

It was Mary who was the last to answer, telling you that your girlfriend was at her home.

Now that you had time to settle, the anger set in. So instead of sleeping like intended, you sorted your clothes – taking every single piece of clothing that you had from Ella, folding it neatly, and setting it down on her side of the bed.

As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t just hide her training gear – placing everything neatly in place. As angry as you were that Ella took her own anger out on you, you could never deliberately do something that could hurt her career.

The dinner in the fridge that neither of you had eaten was turned into your lunch at school – your students excitedly asking about it.

Ella meanwhile had gotten her brainwashed by Mary as she crashed on her couch – the goalkeeper refusing to give her teammate the guest bedroom.

The brunette knew that she had messed up.

Your joined home was empty when she came back in the morning. Her chaos was gone, as was the food in the fridge – once entering the bedroom she saw all her clothes. The clothes she loved to see you in.

Her heart broke even further. How could she hurt you like that?

After allowing herself to cry for a couple of minutes, hugging your pillow close to her your note from the night before tightly pressed to her chest, she took a shower and started to prepare.

It was groveling time.

It was still much too early to start dinner for when you came home, so she started with her folded clothes. The brunette put them back into the closet – your side of it. She didn’t want you to stop wearing them.

After that she started the already full dishwasher and washing machine in the time those were running, she started to remove the stains on the couch that you had been complaining about forever now. After emptying the dishwasher and starting the dryer, Ella turned to your most neglected room – your office.

The desk was a mess and there were papers all over the room. She started with sorting the papers – art projects of your students into one folder, and vocabulary tests that you had yet to grade in another one.

After a while she had made a good dent into your chaos – so that she could actually see the table again. It took her two hours until she considered the room as done – putting the vacuum back in its rightful place.

The time on the clock nearly gave her a heart attack – it was time to start dinner and prepare her speech.

Entering your home felt like entering the lion’s den – and you hated it.

The smell of dinner was overwhelming. You did not know what you had been expecting but fresh flowers, cooked dinner, and a cleaned house were not what you had in mind.

It seemed like Ella knew that she had seriously messed up.

“Hello, Ella.”

The brunette at the stove turned around at the speed of light at your voice – not having heard you walk in. “Hi, baby.”

The smile on her face was hesitant but seeing you, without steam coming out of your ears seriously calmed her down. “I think I have something to make up to you.”

It did not take a trained eye to see just how nervous the footballer was – but being her girlfriend certainly helps. “I think you do – but before you start, I would like to hear that you’re sorry and what made you act that way.”

Big eyes looked at you – head nodding so fast that you doubted that Ella could actually see clearly. It was safe to say, that you were spoiled for the evening – Ella making sure that you could not stay mad at her with everything in her power.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso #engwnt x reader #woso imagines #ella toone x reader #ella toone #man united wfc x reader #lionesses x reader

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angelinajoulie · 1 year

Text

At his mercy.

Rating: 18+ MDNI. You read at your own risk.

Pairing: dom!Austin Butler x shy!girlfriend!reader

Summary: Austin fucks you in his ‘The late late show’ suit.

Warnings: NSFW. SMUT. this is PURE FILTH; age gap; austin is definitely a DOM in this (you can't tell me otherwise); swearing; pet names; fingers sucking; oral (m receiving); size kink; praise kink; austin referring to himself as daddy (just twice); unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it); creampie; cockwarming (sorta??).

a/n: English is not my first language, this is the first time I’ve written from Italian to English and after two months of writing and translating this work I really don't know what came out, so please forgive any mistake✨ leave a comment down here and let me know what you think✨

Enjoy!

It's late at night, the lights outside are already out, and the street lamps are the only ones left to light the wet road while everything around is sleeping and waiting for a new day to come. Not a sound, not a noise is bothering the atmosphere outside except for the sweet rustles of trees on the street as a black Range Rover nears the driveway.

Shortly after, the sudden noise of a door opening makes you skip a beat, taking you off-guard and waking you from your sleep. He is back.

Your eyelids open slowly and you instinctively look at the alarm on the nightstand. 1:30 am.

"As usual," you think.

It takes you a little to realize that you fell asleep too early and didn't wait awake for him— as you always do, but you had a very stressful day at college and you couldn't help yourself to give in to the comfy bed beneath you.

So you decide to wait for him to make his way into the bedroom before you can close your eyes again.

You hear him from upstairs while he tosses the keys on the side table at the entrance, then a series of muffled noises follow.

And then, again, silence.

You feel your eyes getting heavy and you know that you'll fall asleep soon. But not without him.

And noticing he's still not gone upstairs yet you decide to get down to him.

You rise from the bed and a breath of wind wraps around your shoulders as soon as the blanket leaves your body, leading you to wear your white satin robe before going downstairs.

Your bare feet meet every cold step unnoticeably, the high temperature difference between the two floors causing you to shrug.

You're searching for him, your eyes are looking at every corner of the living room while waiting to catch his figure until your feet finally touch the ground.

You see him.

Standing in front of the cupboard against the wall, bottle in his hand as he pours himself a large glass of whiskey.

Austin.

He is wearing a navy blue pinstripe suit from Prada that perfectly matches his blue eyes, the jacket left open to reveal a black mesh shirt, half undone and barely covering his toned, tanned chest.

It suits him heavenly.

His eyes look up to meet yours as soon as he feels your presence.

“Hey” he murmurs in a low and raspy voice.

“Hi” you respond and get closer to him, trying to greet him properly.

Seeing you lean in he puts the bottle back in its place and in no time you feel his arm around your waist. Austin lowers his head for his lips to meet yours in a chaste and tender kiss, the first one after an entire day away from each other.

Your hand travels up his spine, reaching the nape of his neck and starting caressing it, your fingers sneaking between his hair gently as you hold yourself closer to his chest. His body is so warm against yours, his warmth filling your heart completely and making you feel safe in the tight grip of his strong arms.

You’ve missed him so much.

The last period has been very exhausting for him, every day passes between interviews, photoshoots and premieres and he's terribly busy, and considering that you too have your things to do with college and all, you're both forced to be apart from each other. But despite all of this, you always try to do your best to support him, following him at the events when possible or watching him on TV, waiting for him until he gets home— like you should've done today too.

Soon your lips move away with a tiny 'pop' and your eyes meet, a shy smile appearing on both of your faces.

“How was your day?” you ask, breaking the silence.

“Great, just a lil tiring” he sighs, caressing your hip gently “have you seen the show?”

You nod without hesitation.

“Of course I did,” a sense of pride overwhelms you seeing him smile slightly at your obviousness “just for you.”

“Really?” he grins, pretending to be surprised as his eyes look down at yours and you nod again.

“Yeah”

“Good girl” he places two of his fingers under your chin, lifting it up for your lips to meet his again in a quick kiss before he pulls away from you and takes the full glass of whiskey in his hand.

You shudder thinking about the pet name.

Good girl...

“And what about you? How was college today?”

Your gaze never leaves him, following each one of his movements while he reaches the couch and takes a seat between the black leather cushions. A shiver runs down your spine, stopping right on your lower stomach. Your mind gets fuzzy, distracting you from his question.

Legs wide apart, broad shoulders resting on the back of the sofa, his right hand on his knee and thigh as the left one brings the edge of the glass towards his mouth, needing a sip. The bitter and yellowish liquid runs down his throat, and his eyes shut just for a second until he swallows it, licking his plump lips after.

You feel yourself throb around nothing at the sight of him manspreading, and your thighs instantly rub together at the thought of every single time you've seen him doing that same thing: eyes closed, lips and tongue wet— not from whiskey.

You don't know why, you don't even know how to explain it to yourself, but seeing him like this sparked something inside you since you saw him on ‘The Late Late Show’ tonight. Something able to keep your mouth shut and your eyes glued to him.

He looks so confident. So dominant. So powerful. Right now, he could move mountains at his pleasure just by lifting a finger if he only wanted to.

And that damn suit... God, you want to sit on his lap so bad.

You'd do it immediately if only you weren't so shy to stand still at your place, merely biting at your lower lip while fantasizing about the mighty man in front of you, a gesture so simple but not enough to go unnoticed— not to him. Not to Austin.

His icy eyes linger on you again and this is the exact moment where you come back to reality and blush.

“What's up?” your awkwardness leads you to open your mouth and talk before you can remember a very important detail.

You still haven't answered his question.

“I asked you” he emphasizes, his tone sharp and deep as he takes in another sip and his tongue runs over his lips to wipe them more slowly and languidly than before, never taking his eyes off of yours “how was college today, angel?”

A mischievous grin appears on his face, the name that always knew how to make your stomach twirl makes you understand everything.

You got caught.

“G-good...” you stutter, coughing slightly as your cheeks are on fire for both arousal and embarrassment in front of that one clear consciousness.

You have a lot on your mind at the moment, a thousand thoughts are running through your head and Austin can read every single one of them.

And you know that he can, you know that he knows what you're thinking about.

Austin knows everything about you.

Because he knows you too well.

He can see from a mile away that something inside you snapped. Your body language is enough to let him know what you want and what you need.

He's tired, the only thing he needs at the moment is to finish his drink, take his clothes off and go to sleep with you, but seeing you wearing nothing but that white silk robe that barely covers your thighs as you bashfully bite your lip, thinking about all the shameless things you want him to do to you, is enough to drive him crazy too.

Because he'll never get enough of you.

He lifts his right hand and two of his fingers gesture you to get close.

“C'mere” his order is like liquid gold for you. You walk towards him without blinking, reaching the couch, stepping in front of him as if you've been waiting to all day.

Austin quickly swallows the last drop of whiskey, leaving the now empty glass on the table before grabbing your wrist and putting you between his spread legs.

His fingers manage to undo the tight bow of your robe, taking it off of you to reveal a lovely black satin nightie under it, one of the many he bought you to make up for the many others he ripped off of your body: soft to the touch, lightweight, with thin stripes and lace hems, short enough to leave your ass exposed.

No doubt that it's his favorite one. You're a goddess in it.

His forefinger traces a line up your thigh and reaches the hem of your nightie, your cheeks reddening as soon as he lifts it up, giving you goosebumps.

Austin feels his cock throb in his pants at the sight.

You aren't wearing panties. As he wished.

“No panties, mh?” you shook your head no, feeling the heat starting to pool right on your bare center and your heart pounding in your chest.

You feel so exposed under his touch, so weak, so small, so vulnerable at the feeling of your skin burning under his lingering hot gaze. Your body is completely at his mercy, poorly covered by that tiny piece of fabric while Austin still has his suit on, fully clothed from head to toe, looking at you like an uncompromising master who's thinking about the right treat for his good submissive. And in the darkest and deepest part of yourself, you're loving it.

You love that he always wants to be in control. You love being controlled by him.

At the moment you just want to follow his rules, please him, worship him, be punished if needed, because you want to be a good girl for him and him only.

“Get on your knees, angel.” and when his order comes, you can do nothing more than obey.

Your knees fall to the floor with a soft thud, hands anchored on his thick thighs as you're face to face with his crotch.

Austin's fingers are under your chin again, a gentle reminder for you to pull your gaze up to his face, forcing you to look straight into his eyes.

His baby blues are darkened, filled with craving and lust as they meet your shy and innocent ones waiting for mercy, for him to choose their fate and what is better for them.

Like an angel at God's feet.

“You're such a good little girl for me, you know this?” his voice gets deeper enough to make you feel soaked as he tucks your hair behind your ear.

“So submissive” he praises you in a whisper, his calloused digits moving to caress your cheek, allowing you to surrender to his touch by resting your head on his thigh.

“So responsive” the intense feeling of the cold gold of his rings hits your warm skin and your spine tingles.

His voice is so soft, yet so firm while he praises you that a weak moan leaves your parted lips, Austin taking advantage of it to shove two of his long fingers in your mouth. You know what to do so you embrace them with no hesitation and start sucking, wrapping your lips and tongue around his knuckles as the metallic taste grows strong in your mouth.

“So greedy...”

You are a vision to him, you look so tempting that his hand falls on his crotch to palm himself, his growing erection begging to be freed from his slacks and swallowed up by your throat.

“Bet your pretty little head's just thinking about one thing since I came home, doesn't it?” you nod frantically, his wet digits still in your mouth before he retracts them.

“Use your words.” authority drips from his tone and you sigh.

“Y-yes...” not enough.

“Yes what, angel?” your head lowers again in front of his request but he holds you still in place, grabbing your jaw “Look at me”

“I...” words get stuck in your throat, too shy to let them slip out easily.

“C'mon, don't be shy. Wanna hear you say it” he spurs “what's on your mind?”

Your heart keeps pounding as never before, and at this point, you don't even know how but you say it.

“I want your cock.”

“And where do you want it, angel?” he smirks as he adjusts himself between the cushions, your thighs clenching together to hide the wetness between them.

You love everything about him and the thing you love most is that he's able to read your mind without talking, but right now it seems like he has forgotten about this ability of his own. And you're hating him for this.

Because you know he's doing it on purpose.

He wants to hear your voice.

He wants to hear you beg.

He wants to hear your innocent mouth tell him the dirty things you want from him, the things he knows that make you feel all small and weak.

For this reason you swallow thickly, and gasping with your heart on your sleeve, you answer.

“In m-my mouth.”

“Then take it.” his words are the only green light you needed to put your shyness aside and leave room for the actions you're going to do in silence.

You reach the fly of his trousers with both hands, unzipping it and slipping between the black fabric of his briefs, freeing his cock.

You take it in your hand, he's already hard as it springs free against his stomach, the contact of your fingers against his weak flesh making him gasp.

You feel him. Long, warm and veiny, the tip already reddened and leaking with precum.

Your mouth waters at the sight. You need to make him feel good so bad.

You sit better on your own thighs, adjusting yourself to avoid the feeling of your knees pressing against the carpet before running your hand along his shaft.

Your strokes are slow and gentle, your fingers applying a small amount of pressure, making him breathe heavily.

“Angel...” he's so eager to feel you, the way his hips are bucking up to meet your strokes is silently proving it. So you decide to indulge him.

You lean forward and your lips start kissing his length from the base to the tip. You tease his slit with your thumb before starting to leave kitten licks on his head, feeling his salty taste exploding on your taste buds.

“Mmm, little one...” a deep groan falls from his lips and goes straight to your soaked center, making you shudder in your place “I love feeling your mouth on my cock...”

He seems so much weaker than before, and a strong sense of power washes over you.

“Fuck...” he swears, adjusting the blonde locks falling on his forehead.

The sensation of your warm mouth around his girth already sending him into a state of pure bliss “I'm not going to last long”.

You take a deep breath through your nose and start sucking, slowly moving your head up and down his cock as far as you can, trying your best to please him. His hand ends behind your head, his fingers holding you close to him as he'd never let you go.

“Yes, baby” he grunts “you feel so good”

Arousal is growing more and more inside of you, your pussy getting wetter as juices start flowing out of you because of hearing him moan.

You feel so bold right now, a sense of euphoria takes over you all of a sudden and makes you grind uncontrollably, searching for friction to ease the ache between your thighs while your head bobs faster around him.

“Yes, just like that, keep going baby...” you do as you're told. You keep sucking, and Austin's grip between your hair tightens.

The cool metal of his rings presses against the nape of your neck, his knuckles turning white and his protruding veins popping out as he applies more pressure to guide your hips at his own pace, making you feel trapped under his grip— under his control.

Right now you're the one giving him pleasure but it doesn't matter. He'll always know how to control you and be in charge.

Your throat is becoming sore and dry, some locks are covering your sweaty forehead and falling on his pubic bone as little tears are forming at the corners of your eyes.

You're a complete mess.

“My pretty little angel- shit, I'm going to fuck your pussy so good” his promise hits you right at your core and a choked moan escapes from your lips, the vibration is so intense against the head of his cock that he jerks frantically.

“Oh god!” his eyebrows furrow, his tight grip around your neck forces you to swallow more of him until he's hitting the back of your throat.

You can't take it anymore. You pull away from him, your fingers never stopping to rub his cock. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you breathe feverishly, searching for air to fill your lungs but Austin is quicker than any move you can make and leans toward your lips.

“Wanna cum inside you.” he tugs you into his mouth hungrily and you moan in both surprise and excitement. You are both panting at the same pace, his tongue slides into your wide-open mouth starting a steamy make-out session where your lips crash between grunts and bite each other without mercy.

Austin moves both his hands on your covered back and you sit up to climb on top of him. Your legs surround his thick thighs and your hands run everywhere on his sweaty chest and around his neck.

“I love you” he breathes on your lips, between heated kisses “so much”

“I love you too, Aus- ah!” his throbbing cock pushes against your soaked folds, making you gasp and jolt. The thrill is too much, you're so desperate that you start grinding against him, searching for friction to stop the hundreds of shocks running down your spine and hitting your womanhood repeatedly.

Your skin burns under his touch. You want him. You need him. You crave him.

And he knows it.

His hand stops on your asscheek, underneath the fabric of your nightie as his teeth keep biting your bottom lip voraciously, his fingers squeezing your flesh before grasping the hem of your nightie.

Austin takes it off of you and tosses it to the side.

Now you're fully naked on his lap, your breasts are pressed against his half-covered chest and your stomach shakes at the sensation of being so exposed while he's overdressed.

He leans forward a bit enough to bring his hands behind his back and take off his jacket.

“No!” your voice leaves your throat in a worried shriek, bringing out a primal emotion hidden in the deepest part of you.

Austin halts and looks you in the eyes, urging you to give him reasons. You blush.

You can't run away.

“L-leave it on...” you swallow thickly, hair falling on your face, hiding your awkwardness from him. Right now you're ashamed to death for this implied confession and his silence is not helping to ease your feeling.

He simply keeps staring at you, with those damned eyes that know how to make you melt, and without saying a word he kisses you again.

His tongue hungrily pushes itself into your mouth, giving you goosebumps as his fingers slide down straight between your folds, coating in your juices.

Now he can feel it.

“Fuck, you're dripping” his touch is so slight and lasts only for a moment, making you moan against his lips "all this wet just for sucking daddy's cock and seeing him in this suit, mh?"

“Please, Aus...”

“Who knew a stupid suit would make my little girl so eager?”

You don't answer and your shyness seems to no longer exist.

You just keep grinding against him, more desperate than ever while his tip rubs against your throbbing clit; he grasps his cock with his hand, adjusting himself on the couch and lining up with your slit, teasing it as your heart aches in eagerness and you can do nothing more than keep begging him shamelessly.

Hearing you beg is making him crazy, he swears he could stand still for hours only to hear you beg with your tear-filled eyes, but right now he just wants you too much to do it.

“Please, I need you”

You don't need to say anything else. His tip pushes inside your cunt and right after he grips your waist forcefully. His entire length slides inside you slowly, your mouth curving in a perfect 'o' from which nothing comes out as you pull away from his lips. Your breath hitches as he makes you sink onto him until you feel his pubic bone hitting against your swollen clit.

You're stuck, unable to breathe. You squeeze your eyes shout and cry out.

“Oh!” you feel so full. Full of him.

He gives you a few seconds to get used to his presence inside you and a heavy breath releases from his chest.

“Shit, you're so tight” he curses under his breath, bottom lip between his sparkling teeth and eyes closed for pleasure.

And then he starts guiding you onto him and you let yourself get carried by his hands, feeble like jelly as you meet his thrusts, moving slowly, moaning weakly.

“Aus” you whimper, each one of your moves against him only stretching you open more.

“Shh angel, you can handle it” he coos softly in your ear, leaving sweet kisses behind your lobe, helping you to ease the pain.

Your thighs are trembling as they wrap around his and your fingers slide between his blonde locks, trying to hold him closer than ever.

From this position, you can feel him completely. Every inch, curve, vein, and single part of him is inside you to the brim and is filling you perfectly with a combination of pain and pleasure that only Austin can give you.

You open your eyes and look at him. He's already staring at you and now your gazes lock together, making you both feel more connected with your soul than just your bodies and skin.

Your breaths mingle, your lips only a few inches distant from each other and ready to touch again with each thrust.

“You're taking me so well” he murmurs.

His forehead is sweaty, his lips are plump and red like yours, his jaw clenching as he watches you fall apart on his cock and babble something in response before moaning, struggling to take him.

You feel that familiar coil growing in you, your walls clench around his girth and you feel the base of your stomach burn every time his tip caresses your cervix.

It's too much for you. You stop, ready to surrender to his touch, but Austin holds you in place.

“Ah-ah. Stay still, pretty girl.” his fingers force you to sit straight, impaling you more and more on his cock.

“I-i can't...”

“C'mon little one, don't be a brat” he warns you as he starts guiding your hips again, with slow but intense strokes, the stimulation leading a whine to escape your lips before you stop again.

“Hmmph... t-too much...” you babble, it's the only thing you're barely able to say. You can't even talk.

It's so good, you just wish you had the strength to ride him faster but his cock's hitting you so deep you swear you could die in his arms.

Suddenly something draws his attention and forces him to look down.

You feel his hand press on your belly and you gasp in surprise. So you lower your head as well and see the outline of his cock poking out of your stomach.

The vision makes his cock twitch and your walls squeeze around him. He's in your guts.

“God, you look so hot like this” his gaze is burning on your skin, and you can say he definitely loves the sight in front of him. His pupils are dilated, and his breath is getting heavier. He's addicted “Small, desperate, and full of my cock”

You moan hard, turned on by his words and seeing how much he's going deep inside you with every stroke.

“‘s so deep inside you, uh?” he mocks you, his thumb rubbing your tummy as your eyes meet each other again.

“Y-yes! S-so deep” hearing your voice cracked and desperate leads him to one conclusion.

“Think you need daddy's help” suddenly his grip on your flesh tightens and with no warning he pushes you down onto him brutally, slamming his cock into you, bucking his hips upwards to start thrusting deeper, harder.

In a matter of seconds, your nails dig into the back of his hands and you scream, tilting your head back in pleasure.

“Aus- oh, god!” you moan louder, your mouth wide open as ecstasy takes over you, leading you to shake uncontrollably against his hips, making him grunt and moan.

“Keep moving, angel, don't stop...” he whispers as you try to follow his orders as far as your body permits you.

His cock is buried in you, he is fucking you so good you're barely able to move properly.

“Yes, just like that, baby, you're so good” his words keep hitting at your core, only spurring you to push yourself to your own limits as he starts leaving wet kisses on your throat “My good girl...”

"Please, please, please!" the fire inside you is ready to burst, your peak is getting closer and you want more.

“You wanna cum, angel?”

“Yes, yes please, n-need to cum!” hot tears start streaming down your cheeks and you moan again, again and again, scratching his hands and leaving bruises on his knuckles.

Everything seems to be so intense. Sweat is soaking your bodies, immersing you both in a hot-as-hell shower. The wet sound of bones and skins slapping floods your ears, your juices flowing down your thighs ruining the fine fabric of his expensive trousers.

You're so close and so is he. You feel in heaven.

“Then cum baby, cum around my cock” his voice shakes you inside, his tip hits that sweet spot in you and your vision goes blurry.

“Austin!” you cry out, your throat rips apart for the strength of your climax. Your orgasm washes over you and you convulse, the shocks running through your body are too strong and leave you powerless as you collapse on his chest.

“Fucking god” soon a growl of satisfaction slips from his throat, and his abdomen tightens underneath you. His grip loosens, thick ropes of his white cum spill inside you and paint your walls, making you shiver.

The room is now filled with silence, interrupted every now and then by the racing breaths escaping from both of your lungs.

You're exhausted.

“You did so good, angel, so good” he starts caressing your head gently, his praises warming your heart as you try to recover from the passionate fuck you two just had, but before you can say anything he picks you up and gets off the couch.

You whimper in surprise, finding the strenght to tie your legs and arms around the soft fabric of his suit as Austin's cock is still hard inside you.

“Let's go t' bed, baby” he announces, a wicked grin crossing his face “Wanna see how deep I can fill this pussy if I let you ride me on the mattress”

a/n: okay sooo… what do you think? would you like to read anything else? i got five or six ideas to write in my drafts already 👀

Tag-list: @pennyroyalcreep @bcofl0ve @houndogsblog @gigisworldsstuff @emmaolsen @cryingabtab @slowsweetlove @fuckhoes1123 @cchl @auranightangle @spirited-away-to-mandalore @donnamarie23 @ab4eva @dancer4j @kibumslatina @denised916 @faeolwen @alqvarde @lilmisswoo93 @oldermenluverrr @eliseinmemphis @purejasmine @lillypink @sournatromanoff @lukedorkyhemmings @claudia-barnes @bo-burnhxm @lilac-presley @onlyangelssing @amorx

(the tag list is OPEN, comment down here if you wanna be added!)

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2cupids · 6 months

Text

content warnings: fem reader, corruption kink, oral (m receiving), brief face fucking, c.um swallowing, mdni (17+)

badboy!haechan has a thing for corrupting innocent, naive girls like you.

he pries into your love life, asking if you’ve ever been in relationships before or had sex before. it all seems harmless to you but in reality he’s gathering and collecting information to make sure you’re the right match.

it’s him that's always initiating intimate moments between the two of you. every time he makes a move he silently prays that you’ll tell him not to stop or that you want to go further because honestly, he doesn’t know how much longer he can wait to get what he wants, but luckily for him he doesn’t have to for much longer.

soon enough you tell him you’re ready, that you want him to be your first. haechan almost thinks he misheard you but once you repeat yourself he wastes no time pouncing on you, his body immediately on top of yours and guiding you to lay back on the couch. suddenly he has a change of mind and goes to get off you and stand up, telling you to get on your knees instead. what better way to start the process of turning you into a little slut than by giving him head?

he instructs you how to suck his dick the way he likes and to his surprise you’re a fast learner, but what’s even more surprising is that you’re good at it.

you’re constantly observing haechan’s face to make sure you’re doing it right; you’re eager to please him. you eventually come to the conclusion that with the sounds he’s making and the way his mouth hangs open that you’re doing it right.

he happens to look down at you through half lidded eyes, only to find you watching him. your black mascara is smudged and running down cheeks and your big pretty eyes are wet with tears and spit is dripping down your chin from your attempts at trying to take as much of his length in your mouth as you can, deepthroating him. the sight alone is enough to make him cum.

he holds your head in place so he can fuck your face, releasing his hot seed down your throat in a matter of seconds. you’re not even sure whether you’re supposed to swallow it or not but you have no other choice. he stays inside the warmth of your mouth until he finally releases his grip on your head and you pull away.

unsure if you did the right thing by swallowing his semen (or at least that’s what you think it’s called), you decide to stay kneeling in front of him, waiting to ask him about it.

it’s only when he comes down from his high and goes to tuck himself back into his boxers and fix his jeans, does he open his eyes and realize you’re still in front of him. “what are you still doing down there?”

you point to your mouth and open it wide, making it a point to stick your tongue out to show him. “i accidentally swallowed it, sorry. is that what i was supposed to do? did i make a mistake? d-did i do it wrong?”

you chew the inside of your cheek, anxiously awaiting an answer. but you don’t get an answer in the form of words, haechan simply grins at you before dropping his head to laugh. what a pretty little innocent thing you are.

he shrugs his leather jacket off and throws it on the couch cushion before helping you off the floor and leading you to his bedroom where he’ll introduce you to an entirely new world.

he looks forward to all the fun he’s about to have with you tonight and for the next few days and weeks. he won’t stop until he completely ruins you, until your mind is full of nasty, whorish thoughts and that’s all you can think about; until you’re practically begging to have him in your mouth or deep inside your pussy, fucking you until you can’t think straight. then he plans to leave you high and dry as he moves onto his next victim.

you’re just going to be another silly girl that was corrupted by him, lee haechan.

#nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #haechan smut #lee donghyuck #kpop smut #nct x reader #kpop x black reader #kpop x poc reader #nct scenario #nct hard hours

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roosterforme · 10 months

Text

Don't You Want Me, Baby | Rooster x Reader

Summary: It was like a fairytale, the way you stole Bradley's heart with your gorgeous face, retro denim jacket, and karaoke skills. But when you disappear into the night, leaving only one small trinket behind, he's left wondering if he didn't just dream you up.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing and karaoke

Length: 3200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley's favorite thing about '80s throwback nights at the Hard Deck was seeing how his friends dressed for it. Nat usually went with neon spandex. Bob had a vintage Nintendo tee shirt. Jake found a windbreaker and matching pants at a thrift store. Even Penny got in on things by wearing a hideous blazer with enormous shoulder pads.

But Bradley just wore what he always did: one of his dad's tropical print shirts from circa 1983, his snug Levi's, and his slick mustache.

When he arrived at the Hard Deck, he realized that his least favorite part of this kind of night was the fact that he was always the odd man out now. He'd been single for such a long time, and it didn't usually bother him. But the way Javy had his arm around Nat, and the way Bob's girlfriend was making him blush... well, Bradley was starting to feel like he was missing out.

Nat handed him a beer as soon as he strolled up to the bar. "I can't decide if it's funny or sad that you don't even have to try," she told him, eyeing him up and down.

"Says the woman wearing a neon pink jumpsuit? What even is that thing?" he asked, gesturing to her outfit. Frankly, it was scary, but Javy seemed to like it as he kissed Nat and whispered in her ear before he walked away, turning to look at her several times.

She rolled her eyes and told him, "It's '80s workout attire! I'm going to sing the song Physical for karaoke, and I thought it would be fun to match the theme. You, on the other hand, wore the same thing the other day when we went out for pizza. You live in the '80s my friend."

"Whatever," Bradley grunted, sipping his beer.

"Rooster, did you sign up for a song yet?" Fanboy asked him, jerking his thumb to the karaoke setup in the corner.

Just as he was about to reply, Nat smirked at him. "How about I pick a song for you?"

Bradley just shrugged. "Sure." He liked singing. He was pretty good at it. And with tonight's theme, he'd know all the lyrics even without the video prompt. But he didn't like the smug look on his friend's face as she strolled away in her hideous pink outfit.

He sipped his beer. There were a lot of people here tonight that he'd never seen before. It was usually the same Naval officer crowd every weekend, so this was interesting. And there were a lot of cute girls with their hair all teased and hair sprayed wearing things that made Bradley smile.

Then his eyes caught on a denim jacket and a mini skirt on the cutest girl he had seen in a very long time. "Oh," Bradley gasped, finishing the last of his beer and setting the empty bottle down on the counter. You turned to laugh at your friend who was behind you, but your eyes caught on Bradley's, and he started stumbling through the crowd in your direction.

Then the DJ in charge of karaoke night called up the first singer, and the crowd closed in on the stage. "Shit," Bradley muttered. He lost sight of you amongst the too bright neon strobe lights. The song Sunglasses at Night started blaring, and Bradley couldn't find his friends either. The more he tried to shove through the crowd, the more dirty looks he got.

Two more singers performed terrible renditions of songs that Bradley used to like until he heard them here. He figured you must have left, because he couldn't see you anywhere. With a sigh, he leaned against the back wall. And then Nat was there, pressing another beer into his hand.

"Why do you look so pissy?" she asked over the music.

He just shrugged and rolled his eyes at himself. "It's so dumb. But I saw the cutest girl, and then she vanished...."

There you were, not far from the DJ booth. You were dancing along to someone butchering Billie Jean. Bradley could barely see you through the crowd as he smacked Nat's arm. "It's her. Denim jacket. Little skirt. Fucking gorgeous face."

"Go talk to her," Nat told him with a grin that made him a bit nervous.

"What do you think I'm trying to do?" he asked, looking for the best way to get over to you. The way you were dancing and laughing had Bradley smiling as he squeezed past Bob.

When you spun in a slow circle with your friends, you froze, eyes meeting Bradley's again. This time you bit your lip and waved to him.

Bradley laughed and mouthed, "I'm coming." He watched as you pressed your lips together and ducked your face down.

"Hurry up!" you called when the song ended.

Bradley was about to start throwing elbows to get as close to you as possible. Then he heard his name.

"Rooster is up next! Where's Rooster?" called the DJ.

Bradley let his head tip back as he groaned. He waved to the DJ and then winked at you. "Sorry," he mouthed as he smiled at you.

You smiled and shrugged and that's when the DJ announced, "Rooster is singing that iconic song from Dirty Dancing, I've Had The Time of My Life."

He turned to glare at Nat where she stood against the back wall. "You picked a duet, you jerk! I can't sing that alone!"

But his attention snapped away from Nat when he felt your hand on his arm. You had managed to close the distance to him, and Bradley met your eyes as you let your fingers glide down his arm until they met his hand.

"I'll sing with you, Rooster."

Bradley laced his fingers with yours, and you led him up to the stage as the bar was filled with applause. Bradley took the microphone from the DJ. You and he were going to have to share it, and he didn't mind that one bit.

"Ready?" Bradley asked you, keeping his flingers linked with yours.

"Let's do it."

Bradley nodded, signaling they were ready to sing, and when the music started, you smiled up at him. He missed the first few words as his heart pounded, scrambling to pick up the lyrics as you giggled.

Now I've had the time of my life. No, I've never felt like this before. Yes, I swear it's the truth, and I owe it all to you.

Then when it was your turn, Bradley was hypnotized by your voice. He could come up with about a hundred more duets he was dying to sing with you. Either here at the bar, or maybe back at his place. Maybe you'd let him have your number.

He missed his next line again, completely distracted by you biting your lip and holding the microphone for him. "Shit," he said with a laugh, finally getting back on track again. But you seemed to know you were the reason he was distracted, and he could tell he was blushing.

And when it was time to sing together, your voice blended perfectly with his.

So we take each other's hand, 'cause we seem to understand the urgency.

And then you started to dance with him a little bit, just a sway of your hips, but Bradley moved along with you. It was perfect, the way you shared the microphone with him. The way your smile made the song even better. The way you laughed at the end when Bradley's face was close to yours and the room erupted in loud applause.

"Thanks for bailing me out," he told you as he handed over the microphone.

"You're welcome, Rooster," you told him with a smile that made him want to taste your lips. Then you were slipping your hand free from his as your friends called you over. You glanced at him over your shoulder, and Bradley turned back to the DJ while another singer took the stage.

"I need you to let me sing again," Bradley told him.

"One song per person, sorry."

Bradley rolled his eyes and pulled fifty bucks out of his wallet. "One more song? Right after this one?"

And then, just like that, Bradley was signed up. When he turned your way, you were already looking at him, challenging him to make a move.

"Excuse me," he said, encroaching on your friend group and holding out his hand for you to take. "But, my friend accidentally signed me up for another duet. Think you can help me out again?"

You slipped your hand into his and smirked. "Really? It looked like you signed yourself up this time."

He shook his head and pulled you closer to him. "Nah. Just a trick of the lighting, I think. It was definitely my friend."

Your laughter had him reaching his free hand gently around your waist, tucking it inside your denim jacket.

"That's a cute mustache," you told him, reaching up to touch his lip. "Did you grow it just for tonight?"

Bradley shook his head. "It's a permanent fixture."

"Oh, even better."

Bradley was thinking about it. He was going to do it. He was inching closer, ready to kiss you, when the DJ called his name again. "Rooster, you're up for an encore!"

The room erupted in more cheers as Bradley led you up to the stage, hand still at your waist.

"Which song is it?" you asked over the applause, your lips next to his ear.

His smile grew as he promised, "You'll know it."

Then Don't You Want Me started playing, and you laughed as Bradley danced around on the stage, singing just to you until the chorus when you joined him. Your perfect, smiling lips were so close to his as you both sang "Don't you want me, baby! Don't you want me, ohhh!" together.

And then he let you have the microphone for your part, and your voice sounded even better than the original song. He let his voice blend with yours again and again, but then too soon, the song was ending. He briefly wondered if he could get away with bribing the DJ for just one more song with you.

He had the microphone in his hand, about to check if he had more cash in his wallet, when you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his lips. Right in the middle of the stage. Right in the middle of the applause and the neon lights and the DJ introducing Nat as the next singer.

Your lips tasted as sweet as you looked, and Bradley almost dropped the microphone trying to get his arms around you as well. You kissed his lips softly and then laughed before you let your lips skim over his mustache.

"I had fun, Rooster," you whispered over all the commotion as you stepped off the stage with Bradley in tow. When Nat snatched the microphone out of his hand with a wink, you took his hand in both of yours.

"Think they'll let us sing another song together?" he asked, watching the smile on your lips as you took your denim hair scrunchie off your own wrist and pushed it over his hand. He looked down at his left wrist, now adorned with it. "What's this for?" he asked with what he was sure was a dopey grin.

"Keep it, Rooster," you said, but suddenly your friends were there, slowly pulling you away from him.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his heart lurching as he ran his fingers over your scrunchie and tried to follow you. But the crowd was closing in on him, everyone going wild for Nat singing Physical. "I don't even know your name!"

You called out to him as you blew a kiss, but he couldn't hear you. He shoved Javy out of the way, trying to get to you again. As the crowd thinned near the exit, Bradley ran outside after you. But you were gone. There was no sign of you or your friends. All that was left was your scrunchie, the songs stuck in his head, and the feel of your lips on his.

--------------------------

"I imagined her," Bradley said for the sixth time at work on Monday. "She was perfect, but she wasn't even real." He was stretched out on the couch in the aviators' lounge with your scrunchie in his hand and a pout on his face.

"She was real, Rooster," Nat told him with an eye roll. "We all saw her. We all saw her kiss you before she left. Maybe it was your choice of song? Maybe she didn't want you, baby?" she asked with a devilish smirk.

Bradley launched the scrunchie at his friend's face, making her squeal. But then he was up off the couch immediately, running to collect his precious souvenir from the ground before anything happened to it. He balled it up in his hand and tucked it into the pocket of his flight suit.

"It would be impossible to find her again. I don't even know her name," he mumbled, kicking his foot along the floor as he sighed. "She was just..." He was thinking about your voice as you sang and your pretty face and your vintage denim jacket. "Perfect."

Nat took a step closer and patted him on the chest. "There has to be some way... Oh!"

"What?" Bradley asked, meeting her bright eyes with his hopeful ones.

"There would have to be other '80s karaoke nights around San Diego," she said quickly, pulling her phone out of her pocket. Bradley's heart filled with hope as she said, "We could go to them, and maybe she'll be there."

"Nat. You're a genius."

When Friday night rolled around, Bradley picked Nat up in her hot pink spandex, and they drove to a bar in Oceanside where a throwback night was in full swing.

"See her anywhere?" Nat called over the loud music.

Just then someone started singing Don't You Want Me. Bradley's heart leapt. But it was a guy with a terrible voice and a girl who wasn't you.

"No," Bradley groaned, his heart full of frustration. "She's not here," he confirmed after walking through the entire bar.

And the following night, Bradley and Nat went to a bar in Balboa Park, ready to search for you again. They walked into a room full of people dancing around and singing to a Bon Jovi cover band.

After looking everywhere, taking his time to search the crowd, a dejected Bradley shook his head at Nat, and she followed him back outside to the Bronco.

The following Friday was no better as they hit up a club downtown. After they had no luck there, Nat told him about another karaoke night in Pacific Beach.

"This is it, Nat. This is the last one," Bradley told her, glancing at your scrunchie on the shifter as he drove. "If she's not here, then I need to stop looking."

"But, she could be-"

"Nat, come on. I've been like this for two weeks. I can't stop thinking about her, which is absolutely ridiculous. We sang two songs together, and then she bailed. I'm starting to think that even if I do find her, she's not going to remember who I am!"

She sighed in the passenger seat, and said, "I really hope she's here, just so I can see you proven wrong."

So Bradley searched the bar for you while he listened to so many bad singers in a row. He felt desperate now, knowing there wouldn't be another chance after this. And every time a denim jacket and a cute face caught his eye, he did a double take. But you weren't here either. The search was off now.

"Let's go," he told Nat, swallowing hard as he headed outside. And then he tossed your scrunchie into the center console, started up the engine and left.

-------------------------

"Come on," whined Nat, pulling on Bradley's arm. "I'll be fun!" Bradley was trying to head home after working late on Friday, but she wasn't going to let him.

"I don't feel like going to the Hard Deck tonight." He just wanted to go home, relax and pretend like he didn't still have your scrunchie in his pocket half the time.

But she stomped her foot. "No. You've been pouting. Javy, Bob and Jake are already there. We're going."

Bradley groaned and agreed to follow her to the bar to have exactly one drink. But when he walked in and realized that it was set up for karaoke, he turned to try to sneak back out.

"There he is!" Nat called, rushing forward to grab his hand before he had a chance to leave. "You promised. One drink."

"Fine," he grunted, sitting at the bar with his back to everyone else who was rushing up to pick a song to sing. And when Penny handed him a beer, he drank half of it in one sip, trying to finish it as quickly as he could.

When he was done, he reached into his pocket to get his wallet, pulling out your scrunchie at the same time. He shook his head, ready to toss it into the trash can behind the bar. But then he heard the opening chords of I've Had The Time Of My Life start playing. He'd been listening to the song nonstop for weeks, and when he spun to face the stage, he saw you. In your denim jacket.

"Rooster!" You had the microphone held up to your lips, and you were calling out to him.

"It's you!" he called back, trying to make his way through the crowd to get closer as his heart pounded.

"It's me," you told him with a bright smile. "Looks like I accidentally picked a duet as soon as I saw you. I need a partner. Are you available?"

He pushed his way through the crowd and jumped up onto the stage. "Yeah, I'm available." Then your hand was grabbing the front of his shirt, and his lips met yours. The crowd was screaming and cheering as you smiled against his mouth.

"I thought I dreamed you up," he told you, resting his forehead against yours. "Like a fairytale Princess in a denim jacket. Please don't leave this time."

"I won't," you promised, kissing him hard before turning to the DJ and giving him a thumbs up. When the song restarted, Bradley took the microphone and sang to you.

Now I've had the time of my life. No, I've never felt like this before.

Yes, I swear it's the truth, and I owe it all to you.

And then he opened up his hand, showing you that he still had your scrunchie. You gently took it as you smiled up at him in surprise, and then you slid it onto his wrist before taking his hand. But after that song, Bradley didn't even bother trying to bribe the DJ for more, because he had you in his arms, your name on his lips, and your phone number saved for later.

-------------------------

If your man won't search the kingdom for you and then turn to a pile of mush when he finds you, then he's not the one. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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