#✚ ── a suitcase and a trunk : ✧ : interactions | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kissenturine · 5 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐄 kazuha x m!reader — 5.1k words, not proofread, minors do not interact

TO NOTE: strangers to lovers, mentions and use of alcohol (no drunk sex though), kazuha and reader are roommates, sort of college / modern au, morning sex / sleepy sex, praise, pet names (good boy [?], angel, uh i cant remember sorry), aftercare is not written but it is given, praise teehee, reader rides kazuha, kazuha jerks reader off, lmk if i missed any thanks :3

KAI SAYS: GUYS!!!!!!!!!!!!! birthday post im now 20 that sounds so old euugghh

Rent was hell.

Your minimum income, which was mostly spent on necessities and college fees, was barely able to pay last month. And now with inflation, you weren’t sure how you were going to make it through another year.

But, there was always hope. It was only the beginning of June after all.

Last week, your friend introduced you to a website to find roommates. Having a roommate would solve a few of my problems, you thought as you scrolled through the site on your computer. For one, the rent would be split between the two of you, which was much more manageable than right now. And, for two, you would get to actually talk to someone every day.

It would be a win-win situation if the two of you got along.

After a few days of thinking everything through, looking at different people’s profiles, because the site was a “Tinder for roommates,” as your friend had put it, you found a man that matched your preferences.

Kaedehara Kazuha.

From what you could tell by his profile, he looked like a sweet man. His profile picture was set to a white cat, and you can see his hand atop its head, gently petting against the cat’s ears. You hadn’t met him in person yet, but through text, you’d managed to get to know him a bit.

The two of you texted about your hobbies and Kauha told you about his life. He was getting a degree in poetry at a college near your house, which is why he selected the area. He told you earlier today about himself. He liked to eat fish and go drinking out. He liked staying with animals he liked warm weather and sunny days, and he liked to spend time with his loved ones and friends.

To be honest, he seemed a bit too good to be true.

But, you think, I suppose some people are just like that.

With a content sigh, you shut your computer. You’d texted Kazuha and the two of you had planned for him to move in today. It seemed a little quick to you, but Kazuha said he didn’t really have anything big to move over. According to him, he’d only be bringing one suitcase and backpack.

Yesterday, you cleaned out the guest room—well, know his room. It was tedious work, something you hoped you wouldn’t have to do again. Ever. But, you supposed it would be worth it in time.

So now here you were, sanding proudly with your hands on your hips smiling at your spotless house. Kazuha better like it here… You think. Your hand goes to run through your hair gently, combing it back. You’re about to flop down onto the couch and maybe take a nap—only for the familiar tune of the doorbell to ring through the house, echoing and bouncing off the walls.

Your head snaps backwards, a nervous smile making its way onto your lips.

You rush to the door, ignoring the slight shake in your step. Your heartbeat quickens and you don’t know why. Kazuha’s a nice man. You remind yourself, though you don’t think that’s why you're nervous.

Slowly, you unlock your door and turn the doorknob with your other hand. And there, standing to greet you is your new roommate. Kaedehara Kazuha.

You greet him with a polite smile, cracking open the door just enough to let him inside. The roll of his suitcase from the sidewalk outside up onto the flooring of your house sends a loud ‘Clunk! Clunk!’ sound and you wince a little.

You shut the door behind you, schooling your expression as you turn back to Kazuha. He trunks to you quickly and smiles gently. “Ah,” he says and his voice is so soft when he speaks, “I’m Kazuha, but I suppose you already know that.”

You introduce yourself, finishing off the same as him with a short, “but I suppose you already knew that too.”

He nods politely a small laugh flitting out of his lips. You lead him to his new bedroom, helping him carry his backpack as he lifts his suitcase, not wanting the wheels to dirty the floor. Kazuha takes a look around, his smile being ever present as you drop his backpack by the door.

“It’s nice here.” He comments, turning his gaze from you to his bedroom.

A bashful grin makes its way to your lips. “Thanks.” You murmur. “Cleaned just for you.”

With that, he’s looking back at you. “Just for me?” He responds, and there’s an edge of playfulness that lies beneath the overlaying gratefulness in his tone. “Thank you.”

You just nod, not fully trusting your voice.

After a moment, Kazuha sits down at the edge of his bed, tracing his hands over the expanse of the duvet. “We should go out sometime.” He says and you blink. You’re face feels warm and you hope Kazuha doesn’t see.

“Like…” Your voice trails off, leaving your sentence unfinished. Like a date? You wanted to say, but your lips don’t seem to work.

Kazuha seems to take note of this, chuckling softly. “Just to get to know each other better. Doesn’t have to be anything fancy.” He gives you a comforting smile and your nervousness seems to dissipate when you look at him.

“Ok.” You agree. “We can plan something for after you’ve gotten more… settled in.”

Kazuha’s smile widens and he gives you a nod. “Thanks.”

You take a deep breath, before speaking up again. “I’ll leave you to it then.” You turn on your heel before walking out of Kazuha’s new bedroom. You shut the door gently before speed-walking to your room and collapsing onto your bed.

Your breathing comes out in soft puffs as you bury your face into a pillow, curling yourself on your bed. What the fuck was that? You cry mentally. You grip onto the bedsheets tightly. Your heart is beating fast and you think it’d beat tight through your ribs if you don’t calm down soon. You bring your hands to your face, dragging them across your eyes. “I’m fucked.” You curse quietly. Kazuha’s so nice! You know you probably won’t even last a month without developing some sort of feelings for him and that scares you.

You… don’t want to ruin what little the two of you had managed to build up in the past week. As little as it was, you like what you have with Kazuha. In the back of your mind, though, there’s the nagging feeling for more. You want to get closer to Kazuha, you want to spend time with him.

Maybe that date of his wouldn’t be too bad.

With a heavy sigh, you twist your body to lay like a starfish, sprawled across your bed. You turn your gaze to your window, squinting as the sunlight fans through the glass and into your eyes. If you just ignored any feelings that developed, they would just go away, right?

The first six days with Kazuha were… different from your usual routine, to put it simply.

On Monday (because everyone knows the week starts with Monday and not Sunday!) you awoke to the smell of food wafting through the house. You were instantly up and out of bed, barely managing to throw on a shirt—backwards—before you stumbled into the kitchen.

You were taken aback by the sight that greeted you.

Kazuha, in his pyjamas and an apron, was humming a soft tune as he cooked something on the stove. He turns once he notices you, standing in shock by the doorway. “Ah,” he said, “I see you’re finally awake.” He humed, using the spatula to plate a scrambled egg. He handed you the plate and Archons it smelled good. “I made breakfast. Used some of your food, if you don’t mind.”

You absentmindedly nodded, entranced by the way he moved around the kitchen, putting things in the dishwasher, plating his food, and turning off the stove. All of those were such ordinary things, but, for some reason, it just made you more drawn to him.

You brought your plate to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down, still watching Kazuha. “Thanks for breakfast.” You murmured after a few bites. “It’s really good.”

“Well, it’s only natural I repay you somehow.” Kazuha said before sitting down beside you. “You basically lent me your house to live in.” He joked.

“Our house now.” You responded. “Since you’ll be payin’ half the rent.”

Kazuha nods, taking a bite out of his own breakfast. “I plan on spending the week organizing my stuff. Nothing big, just getting everything tidy.” The two of you sat in comfortable silence, basking in the warmth of the summer weather.

Besides that, Monday wasn’t anything eventful.

Tuesday was spent helping Kazuha. Cooped up in his room, the two of you went through his clothes and belongings, organizing them into his closet and drawers. Kazuha had a decent amount of clothes, which were the bulk of what he brought.

You talked and talked and talked with Kazuha. He was so sweet. You swore you’d told yourself that a million times by now, but it was always true. Kazuha’s laugh was soft and kind, he laughed at all your stupid, cheesy jokes, no matter how unfunny they were. He’d help you cook meals—much better than you ever could.

Tuesday was when you had come to realize that maybe you were enjoying his company a little too much. But, you thought, he’s just… fun to be around.

You used that excuse for the rest of the week.

Kazuha was just… nice. Everyone would enjoy his company like this. You were no different!

It was a pathetic excuse, but it was pathetic enough for you to cling onto.

Wednesday you and Kazuha went out and you showed him the neighbourhood as the two of you walked to the store for some groceries. Kazuha took an oddly long time looking through the fruits and vegetables section, eyeing each piece we selected carefully before placing it into the plastic bag we used to carry everything.

It was endearing.

After a good forty-five minutes of walking around the store, the two of you finally decided to head to the cashier for check out. Kazuha was polite as he made idle chatter with them, but you couldn’t help the frown that pulled at your face.

You were right there. If he wanted to talk to someone, why couldn’t it be you? You were sure you were more entertaining than that cashier worker.

But you pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind. You pulled out your credit card, expecting to pay, only for Kazuha to gently pull your hand back. “Let me.” He says gently. Your eyes dart to him and your face flushes when you feel his hand graze gently over yours as he pulls it back.

He wanted to pay for you.

Ah, if you hadn’t fallen for him yet, you sure as hell had now.

He taps his card quickly and you barely manage to make it out of the store while avoiding Kazuha’s gaze.

Things only started to set in on Thursday.

You’d woken up with a heavy migraine and a grumpy mood, so it didn’t come as a surprise that you didn’t want to talk to anyone. Unfortunately, that also included Kazuha. And yet, Kazuha didn’t push you when you refused to talk to him while the two of you ate breakfast.

“Good morning,” He had said in greeting. “How’re you?”

You don’t respond, only taking the plate of food he’d set aside for you. You’re swift to finish your food; shovelling it into your mouth and not even bothering to wait for Kazuha.

He, on the other hand, still had that oh-so-sweet smile of his plastered across his pretty lips. “I’ll take it you’re not feeling great, then.” He murmurs. Kazuha gets up from his seat beside you before handing you a glass of water. “You should drink up. Water’s very good for you, so I’m sure it’ll help you a bit.”

You do as he said, chugging the glass of water in one go. “Thanks.” You whisper. Those were the first words you said to him that day, and you could already feel your migraine easing up. Kazuha is like magic, you think, he fixes everything without even trying.

You gave Kazuha a half-hearted smile before placing your plate and utensils in the dishwasher and heading to your room to take a nap. Naps always seemed to ease your headaches.

As you collapsed on your bed, snuggling up under your heavy duvet, your thoughts drifted back to Kazuha. He was sweet, but you’d also come to the realization that he was handsome. His hair was always up into a ponytail, with that little section of red swooping on top of his ear. His eyes are quite pretty, too. You thought. A shimmering red that often matched the clothes he wore, sparkling as he laughed. And his hands, they looked so gentle as he carried things around. His fingers worked effortlessly as he wrote his poetry in that small notebook of his.

“This man,” you whispered to yourself, “is too good to be true.”

On Friday, Kazuha let you have the honour of brushing and tying up his hair.

He’d caught you staring at him as he sat on his bed, his fingers wove through his white locks. With a raised eyebrow, he beckons you over, handing you a red hair tie. “Mind helping me?” He asked softly.

You complied eagerly, scooting behind him. You ran your hand through his hair, gently scooping it behind his shoulders. Kazuha let out a soft hum, as he nodded in content. Carefully, you pull his hair into a ponytail, twisting the thin band to wrap carefully around it a few more times.

“There.” You said. “It’s done.”

Kazuha turned to face you, his knees pressed much too close to yours. “Thank you.” He grinned, grabbing your hand to rest in between his cool ones. “I really appreciate this.”

Your face flushed, an embarrassing warmth coating your cheeks. You brought your free hand to scratch awkwardly at the back of your neck before mumbling out a response. “No problem, Kazuha.”

Saturday was spent planning the two of your guys’ “date” that would be happening on Sunday.

Kazuha suggested a picnic, and you couldn’t help but agree. Maybe it was the thought of spending a day with him, or maybe it was how he wanted to spend a day with you, but you knew you would’ve agreed to anything he said.

The picnic would be on Sunday, in a park the two of you found online.

After a very successful planning session, the two of you spent the rest of the day preparing and packaging food for the picnic.

It was somewhat chaotic—but it was also fun.

Kazuha taught you how to make his favourite sandwich, how to toast the bread perfectly, and how to cut each one into little heart shapes. All with a soft smile dancing on his pretty lips as he guided your hands gently, easing the knife into the bread.

Archons, you were fucked. How’re you supposed to live with him, like this, every day?

And now, it’s Sunday; the day of the picnic.

Your foot taps nervously against the floor of your bedroom. What am I supposed to wear? Yes, you do know you’re probably overthinking this, but you can’t help it! Not when it’s because of Kazuha! You have to make sure you’re always looking your best!

Your cheeks puff out as a heavy sigh leaves your lips, eventually settling on your outfit of the day.

Finally ready, you nervously open the door, heading out to meet Kazuha in the kitchen.

He greets you with a smile and a call of your name. His arms find their way around your waist in a tight hug and you blink. Oh, oh, oh, oh—what do I do!? When did he get so… touchy?! Not that I’m complaining but—You stand frozen, yet Kazuha doesn’t seem to mind. He pulls back with his signature smile. “You’re ready to go?” He questions, taking a step towards the front door.

“Y-Yeah.” You manage to stutter out. “I’m ready.”

“Great!” He grabs your hand, leading you out of your shared home. He doesn’t let go as the two of you walk to the park. With the picnic basket in his free hand, Kazuha still grips yours gently as he leads you. His thumb runs over the skin of your hand absentmindedly. You think it’s supposed to be a calming gesture, but, it only makes your heart beat faster and your face go warm.

You eventually find yourself in a large field, small flowers adorning the grass. Kazuha tugs a blanket out of his bag, laying it over the grass. He plops down on it, patting the space beside him as he does. “Sit with me.” He says.

You comply quickly, placing your own basket down and taking a spot beside him. “...Thanks for doing this with me.” You murmur, giving Kazuha a shy glance.

He only grins in response, digging through his bag and handing you one of the sandwiches you prepared yesterday. “It’s nothing, really.” He smiles, and you feel a tingle go through your hand where his finger brushes over yours. “I like spending time with you.”

“I like spending time with you too.” You match his expression, your lips pulling into a smile. It hasn’t even been a week, and yet it feels like you’ve known Kazuha for years.

Kazuha grins, reaching into his bag. “Good.” is all he responds before pulling something out. Is that a wine bottle? “Now, would you like a drink?”

You… never took Kazuha as a drinker.

And yet, here he is, drunk out of his mind as slurs slip from his lips. Kazuha calls out your name, his head slipping onto your shoulder as his hands grip the blanket the two of you are sitting on. “Do you…” He trails off. “Do youuu… wanna watch th-the sunset w’me?” He slurs his eyes fixing on yours from his position on your shoulder.

You cough awkwardly. “Kazuha.” You say softly, easing his head off your shoulder. “It’s four-thirty in the afternoon. The sunsets not coming out anytime soon…”

“B-But—” He whines. “It woulda been soooo romantic.” Kazuha grins, his eyes lolling shut as he slumps against your chest this time. “Jus’ you, me, an’ the flowers.”

“Oh, Kazuha.” You sigh. “I’d love to watch the sunset with you, but we have to get you home before dark. It’d be dangerous walking out drunk at night.”

“No!” He cries. “I could… could protect you… from th’danger.”

“Nope.” You say, trying not to let his words affect you. “We’re going home now, okay?”

“Okayyyy.” He whines, dragging out the word as he says it. “But only—only cause you said so.”

“Good.” You wrap an arm around Kazuha, right under his shoulder as you help him stand. You leave him for a bit, turning around to pick up the blanket and his bag. “Kazuha!” You call, and he’s instantly behind you. His arms wrap around your waist, pushing his face into your neck.

“Hm?” He coos. “D’ya need something?”

The warmth of Kazuha’s breath fans over the skin of your neck, goosebumps rising lowly. “N-Need you to carry your stuff.” You mumble. Your hands remove Kazuha’s from your waist, shifting to grab his wrist as you gently drag him off you. “Let’s go home now.”

Carefully, you take Kazuha home, not really minding his drunk ramblings. He goes on and on about the sunset, about how he’d stare into your eyes and giggle while he holds your hand and the sun sets.

It is endearing seeing him drunk out of his mind and yet still so lovey-dovey.

It only takes the two of you a fifteen-minute walk to reach your home and you’re quick to open the door and let Kazuha in, the two of you dropping your stuff as you help him up the stairs, your arm wrapped snugly around his waist. He slurs your name again, his pretty red eyes meeting yours. “C-Can we cuddle…?” He whines and you instantly turn your head, wanting to hide the warmth on your cheeks.

“I…” You whisper. “You’re drunk. Let’s just get you in bed first.”

“Noo!” Kazuha cries, planting his feet on the ground, stopping you. “Y’always make me wait! Made me wait for our date, now you're still makin’ me wait when I jus’ want cuddles!”

“Kazuha, really, maybe we should—” You try to protest, only to be interrupted.

“Please,” Kazuha whines pitifully, “Jus’ for a bit.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, letting out a deep exhale. “You’re still drunk,” you start, “but fine. I guess some cuddles won’t hurt.”

Kazuha grins happily, snaking his arms around you, just under your arms as he lifts you into the air. “You’re th’best!” He slurs. “Come, cuddles time.” With that, he’s lifting you up and carrying you over into his bedroom.

He tosses you gently onto the bed and you land with a quiet: “Oof!” Before you feel the bed dip as Kazuha joins you. His arms find their familiar place around you and his nore presses into the back of your head as he twists your body into a spooning position with his. One of Kazuha’s legs is haphazardly thrown over yours, and you feel completely engulfed in, well, Kazuha.

“You’re so handsome.” Kazuha whispers into your hair. “My handsome boy.” He presses a kiss to the back of your head, and you have to remind yourself that Kazuha is drunk. He won’t remember any of this, nor will he ever act like this again.

Still, you end up leaning into the touch, falling asleep slowly, basking in Kazuha’s comforting warmth and love.

When you wake up, Kazuha’s body is tangled with yours. His head is on your chest and his arms are wound tightly around your waist. One of his legs is positioned between yours, his knee pressing against you.

You tug him closer, enjoying the warmth of his body against yours. Kazuha’s head dips between your shoulder and your neck, nuzzling into the spot. You can feel the small puffs of air his lips let out against your skin as he breathes, matching the pattern of your heartbeat as he does.

You grin, pulling yourself to sit up—only to be yanked completely down by Kazuha. “Don’ move, please.” He whispers. “Need t’feel ya.”

“Kazuha.” You complain. “You’re not even drunk anymore—”

“No.” Kazuha murmurs. “Need to feel you.” As the words leave his lips, he shifts his body, pressing his hips flush against your ass.

Something firm pokes into you from behind and—

Oh.

That’s what he meant by feel you.

Kazuha’s hips start a steady grind against you, pushing his erection into your ass as he murmurs breathless nothings into your ear. A desperate whine slips from his lips as he slowly moves his hands from around you to on you, roaming your chest and up your neck.

“Need you.” Kauzha murmurs slowly. “Need you so bad.”

“I know.” You say, turning onto your side to face Kazuha.

He smiles at you, bringing a hand to cup your cheek. “Please let me have you.” He whines.

You smile, leaning into his touch and pressing a soft kiss to his nose. “Of course, you can have me. I’ve been all yours from the start.”

Kazuha’s lips press against yours as he gently pushes you to lie on your back against the bed. His hands trace your sides, going from your neck to your hips as he pulls your pants down. He releases you from his kiss, the both of you gasping for air as he yanks down your boxers with impressive speed.

A soft whine slips from your throat, needily grinding your hips into the air. “Kazuha…” You moan, needing his touch desperatley. “C-Can you just—”

“I know.” He coos, trailing his hand to your hard cock. “I know, pretty boy, but I jus’ wanna take my time with you, ‘kay?”

You hesitantly nod, bringing your hand to thread through Kazuha’s hair as he peppers an assortment of kisses all over your cheeks. His hand starts a slow rhythm, gliding up and down the shaft of your cock slowly.

His grip is teasing, the way he squeezes up as he reaches your tip, dragging the pad of his thumb down your dick as he does. Kazuha’s fist moves quicker, watching as your eyes scrunch up in pure ecstasy from his ministrations. “That’s it.” He murmurs encouragingly. “C’mon, I know you’re close…”

A gasp leaves your lips as Kazuha drags his thumb over your slit, rolling it and smearing your precum everywhere, watching with nothing but a pleased smile as your hips frantically twitch in his hold. He smiles, pressing a kiss to your neck—right bellow your ear before giving the spot a teasing lick.

Kazuha’s hands work at your dick again and again, sliding with a steady rhythm up and down until your brain feels muddled and hazy. You grip at his wrist, not knowing if you want him to stop or keep going.

“K-Kazuha,” you whine, “please.”

A soft laugh leaves his lips and he once again kisses your neck. “Shh.” He murmurs. “Be patient, my dear.” With that, he’s pressing a harsh bite into your supple skin, letting his teeth graze over before digging them into you. A loud moan slips from your lips, your dick twitching over and over until your eyes are squeezing shut and thick ropes of milky white shoot from your tip all over your tummy and Kazuha’s hand.

“O-Oh.” You manage to squeak out. “You’re good at this.”

Kazuha smiles, helping the both of you sit up—with you in between his knees with his erection still pressed into the curve of your ass. He rolls you over, bringing your hips ontop of his as he pulls his leaking cock out of his pants, watching intently as you practically drool at the sight.

“Ride me, please.” Kazuha whispers, his desperation clear in his tone. You wrap a hand around his dick, rolling the pad of your thumb against his tip before lifting your hips. You line him up quickly, feeling the head of his cock push against your hole. Your mouth drops open, a low whine leaving your lips.

Slowly, slowly, very slowly, you sink down on his cock, taking him all the way in. You’re about halfway in—from what little you can tell—when Kazuha grabs your hips. His eyes are teary, staring into yours as he grabs the fat of your ass, and pulls you down.

A loud moan slips freely from your lips and you collapse onto Kazuha, the both of you panting heavily.

“A-Archons.” He whispers, his fingers rubbing smooth circles over your hips. “You’re so tight, angel.”

Angel.

He called you angel.

You bury your face into Kazuha’s neck, taking in his scent as you breathe. “Kazu…” You whine. “Need you so bad.”

“I know, pretty.” He whispers. His grip on your hips tightens as you lift your head off him and look into his eyes. His deep, red eyes. “C’mon. I’ll help you, ‘kay?” He smiles, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips before leading you to sit up above him. His finger taps against your waist before he starts. “Lift your hips f’me.” Kazuha instructs and you comply quickly, lifting your hips before dropping back down.

As soon as you drop down, Kazuha’s tip knocks against your prostate harshly and you cry out, your hands barely managing to find purchase against his shoulders. “Good boy.” Kazuha whispers sweetly, running his hands over your chest. “Jus’ like that…” He murmurs. “Think you can keep going?” You nod eagerly, lifting your hips again only to drop down.

Your thighs shake but you don’t care! Not when it feels so good to be bouncing on Kazuha’s dick like this. Not when he hits all those good spots that make you see stars as your eyes roll back.

“Kazuha.” You moan out, rocking your hips tirelessly up and down his dig. You can feel the drag against every vein against your walls, the way he nudges just right against your prostate. Your eyes roll back as your dick twitches against your tummy, drooling pre uselessly as you ride Kazuha up and down, over and over again.

“T-That’s it, pretty.” He whispers. Kazuha’s hands come to grip your ass again, picking up the pace for you as he starts to buck his hips up and into your awaiting hole. “I—holy shit—I’m close.” He whimpers, and you swear there’ll be bruises from how tight he grips your waist. “Need to cum—” He whines, his eyes squeezing shut.

You nod your head eagerly your ass squeezing so tightly around him as he picks up the pace, fucking into you harder. You need to feel him, feel him shoot his load into you. You need it, need Kazuha, need every part of him.

Every time he thrusts, you feel yourself get closer and closer to that sweet release the both of you seek. “Kazu…” You moan out. “Close, close—need you t’k-keep goin’”

“I know.” He whimpers. “I know, ‘m not stopping.” Your eyes rolled back, the familiar warmth building in the pit of your tummy. The way Kazuha’s hands trailed over your thighs—everything he did was begging your body to surrender to the familiar pleasure.

“A-At the same time.” You plead, gripping onto Kazuha’s arm. He only nod, his eyes squeezing shut.

You clench around him and Kazuha throws his head back against the pillows as he buries his dick into you, his hips meeting yours in one final, harsh thrust. He pulls your body close, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he whispers sweet nothings into you.

You feel him cum, a thick load going right into you. You whine, tightening so sweetly around him as your own orgasm hit. “H-Holy…” You whimper, not hvaing the energy to finish your sentence. Your dick twitches between the two of you and you cum. Hard.

Kazuha’s grip around you tightens as he doesn’t even bother to pull out. He grabs the blanket, bringing it over the two of you as he nuzzles your face into his neck, your body still twitching.

Archons. You think, watching Kazuha’s eyes close gently. The sunlight falls onto his face, like a golden halo around his perfect features. How long has it been with him? A week?

Only a week, and you’d managed to fall in love.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @helloanime @kiekole (send ask without anon to be added)

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luvrodite · 4 months ago

Text

JASON X F!READER [14.8K]

synopsis. the room, at a glance, looks like it would belong to a beloved child. you smile at the massive bookcase that spans nearly an entire wall, the toys neatly arranged in their chest. a pair of matching hand prints are stamped into the white trim of the windowsill, matching the paint of the wall, one much smaller than the other. the only problem, you realise when bruce crosses the room, is that the room is devoid of an inhabitant.

content warning. fem!reader, inspired by The Boy (2016), dark content, horror, extreme dubcon, non consensual voyeurism, violence, death, blood, masturbation, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie please let me know if you feel i've missed any tags

additional note. idk i’m trying my hand at something new but also this isn’t for everyone and that is OK! please don’t read if you’re not interested in the above tags and remember that you curate your own internet experience. peace and love.

minors and blank blogs do not interact, you will be blocked. please have your age in your profile

read on ao3

You see the notice when you need it the most. Seeking Household Manager/Nanny for Child, written in small bold letters on the corner of your friend’s open newspaper. You’re glad then, for their insistence on subscribing to the papers of surrounding cities, the Gotham Gazette something akin to a beacon of hope when you nearly topple over yourself to reach for the issue and scan the ad. When they’ve saved the glass of wine you nearly knocked over, their eyebrows furrow into a disdainful frown.

“You’re not seriously considering that.”

You look up from the black and white print, breathless. Immediate start. 9 to 6 weekdays. Boarding and meals provided. “It isn’t like I’ve got that many other options.”

They grimace, leaning over to skim the print. “It’s in Gotham. You’re just asking to get robbed, at the very least. Have you ever even looked after a kid?”

The double digits in your bank account weigh on you, the suitcases that have been pushed into their storage closet. The couch that’s served as a bed for the past month has begun to mold itself to the shape of your body – and isn’t that a humiliating thought, for how much had been spent on it, it deserves more than for its primary purpose to be housing a poor girl. Your friend sits beside you, clad in thousands of dollars worth of clothing and sneers at what’s beginning to look like the only option you have.

You push down the urge to bite back, eyeing them pointedly instead. “I can’t afford to be picky. Besides, I’ve babysat my cousins before. It’ll be fine.”

The semester is well underway when you get the email, midterms that you haven’t so much as glanced at closely approaching and about a dozen other things to do that threaten to break you into hives when you linger on it for too long. A Mr Bruce Wayne confirms that you’re fit for the job, and he looks forward to meeting you. You stare at the cracked screen of your phone until the letters begin to blur into one another, feeling the rising lump in your throat. A dinner party goes on around you, all friends of friends who you’ve never exchanged more than a few words with. They don’t miss you when you slink away to the bathroom to cry, relief pulling the stopper of your emotions free.

Not wasting any time, the car comes for you early in the next morning and your friend sees you off, massively hungover and raising a hand as you pile the meagre collection of your belongings into the trunk. You are grateful to be rid of the townhouse, and in truth you think they are glad to be rid of you – a month and then some of their poor, Poor, border taking up space on their couch. It’s an unkind thought, fueled by the bitter humiliation of your failure – they’d not complained once, unthinkingly, unhesitatingly opening their door to you when the job you’d been relying on to (barely) make ends meet had let you go and your roommate had quit on you not a week later.

The stress of it all lulls you into sleep as the car pulls away from the city, cement grey turning to green and rolling farmland. You’re too drowsy to appreciate any of it, and you’re out before you even leave the state.

You wake from your dreamless sleep, startling at the sound of screeching metal. A wrought iron gate pulls open slowly, disused hinges whining loudly. It feels as though an eternity passes before the car is able to pass through, and the hair on the back of your neck stands on end when you cross the threshold, eyes drinking in the secluded land around you. Gravel crunches under the tires as you drive down a private road, lined on both sides by looming oak trees. Through the gaps, you catch a glimpse of the wide stretch of land that makes up the Wayne estate.

The chill of the morning has travelled with you, it seems. A thin cloak of mist hangs in the air, painting all it touches in wide strokes of silvery grey. Through bleary eyes, you take it all in. The car turns a corner and you duck your head to peer through the windshield, a large manse coming into view suddenly, only growing bigger the closer you get.

It looms over you when you come to a stop, blotting out the already pale autumn sunlight. Here, everything is tinged in a light blue film, forever suspended in twilight despite the early afternoon hour – the sun isn’t due to set for another few hours but you half expect the moon to be hanging in the sky when you step out of the car.

Sleep softened and weary from the journey, you stretch your limbs, trying to regain some of the feeling after sitting for so long. Your legs feel static-y and you’re conscious as the front door opens and the face of your employer comes into view, of the wrinkles in your clothing. Discreetly, you smooth a hand over the hem of your shirt, but it only folds back after your palm passes over it.

“Mr Wayne,” you greet when the man comes to a stop in front of you.

It’s difficult to mask your surprise. For all that you’d spent the better part of the last few weeks emailing him, you hadn’t expected someone so...old. He looks a great deal older than a man nearing his fifties, raven hair streaked with thick locks of silver and exhaustion lining an aged face. You feel a pang of sympathy.

“Hello. I hope the journey up wasn’t too bad?” He turns his attention to the driver, who has begun to lift your things out of the car, eyes creasing kindly at the corners and an awkward smile lifting his mouth. “You can just take those on inside, thank you.”

“I can’t complain,” you tell him easily. I wasn’t awake enough to. “You’ve got a beautiful home.”

“Ah, thank you,” he mutters, glancing back over his shoulder at the house. Upstairs, a window is open, and the curtain flutters through, white fabric rippling in the air. “Come on inside, we’ve got a lot to get through before I have to leave.”

You pause at the doorway. “You’re leaving tonight?”

He hums. “Unavoidable, I’m afraid. You’ll have to forgive me.” He offers no further explanation and you’re too tired to press.

He runs you through the basics – emergency contacts, the local police department’s number – as he takes you through a number of rooms on the lower floor. In the living room, as he’s telling you about the fair distance to the town, your attention snags on the portrait hanging over the mantle.

It’s a large thing, set in a gilded frame with a small plaque below it. It dates to a little over a decade ago, and you look up to the subjects of the painting. Of the two faces, you recognise only one and it takes a few seconds to register. Bruce, much, much younger, stands for the portrait with an easy smile curving his mouth. The only wrinkles to be found are those that frame his eyes. He’s handsome, you think, stunned, with an old movie-star kind of charm, blue-black hair and pearly grin. It’s a stark difference from the man that stands next to you now, lacking all the heaviness that clouds over him now.

There’s a little boy in the painting, too. You draw closer, curious. Bright blue eyes, almost blazing, stare back at you, a soft, sweet face that offers a toothy smile.

You’re ushered into the next room before you can get a closer look, but the date lingers with you. What could have happened in such a short amount of time, you think, to cause such a change? Ten years had passed, yes, but the age in your employer’s face spoke of a greater, age old haunting.

You are finally led, after a labyrinthine tour through the manor and its various rooms, to the bedroom of your charge.

Something, you aren’t quite sure what, tips you off before you even open the door. It might be the sudden tense set to Bruce’s shoulders, hiking up nearly imperceptibly as he reaches for the doorknob, or the tremble in his voice he disguises with a cough.

“Jason,” he murmurs, “is eager to meet you.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting him, too,” you say slowly, and he steps through the threshold.

The room, at a glance, looks like it would belong to a beloved child. You smile at the massive bookcase that spans nearly an entire wall, the toys neatly arranged in their chest. A pair of matching hand prints are stamped into the white trim of the windowsill, matching the paint of the wall, one much smaller than the other.

The only problem, you realise when Bruce crosses the room, is that the room is devoid of an inhabitant.

He turns and you freeze when you take in the mass in his arms.

“Jaylad, come say hello.”

Pale, porcelain and unmoving, a doll stares back at you from its perch in your employer’s arms. Its likeness is a mimicry of the boy in the painting, a manufactured blush painting its cheeks in soft rose, dull blue eyes lacking the vibrancy of the portrait. It unnerves you, staring at it, and you look back and forth between Bruce and the thing but the former remains steady, expectant.

You raise a trembling hand, fingers clasping one small hand in greeting – it’s barely bigger than a pre-schooler, and even smaller in your arms when he deposits in your arms.

(It takes every ounce of your strength not to flinch at the press of cool ceramic against your skin.)

Whether this is a sick joke or some awful scheme, your situation takes time to reveal itself. Bruce addresses the thing as though it were flesh and blood and you follow, uncertain and stilted. Rising unease makes it difficult to look at the thing properly, and you trail after Bruce back downstairs cradling it stiffly.

It begins to piece itself together easily enough when on your way out of Jason’s bedroom, you catch sight of various photographs littering the surface of the walls and end tables, Bruce and a very real boy with bright blue eyes. It’s easy then, to understand what has happened, and what is being asked of you. Your discomfort softens, if only slightly, making way for sympathy.

You know loss. Death is no stranger to you. The grief of losing a child – it feels cruel to fault your employer for how he’d chosen to cope. Soft-hearted, your chest aches when you catch the lingering of his gaze on the photographs as you pass them in the hall. So dearly loved, it’s no wonder the death of his son had driven him to...this.

Still, you wonder whether this is right, to take money from him like this. It feels as though you’ve taken advantage of this man, accepting to live in his house and eat his food in return for services that wouldn’t come to be.

But the emptiness of your wallet stings like a phantom lash, the desperation of your situation weighs on you and you close your mouth.

Bruce takes your leave almost immediately after your tour concludes. You stand on the front steps with the doll in your arms, a puppet held like a toddler on your hip, and watch him pile into a sleek black car.

“If you need anything,” he says, “they’ll take care of you in town.”

Something in your consciousness snags on the tightness in his voice, something that’s just out of reach, a note you can’t quite make out. His eyes flicker down to the mass in your arms and you follow his gaze. There is nothing you find, the black of the doll’s sweater unruffled, the manufactured flush of his rosy cheeks still cool to the touch – still porcelain. It has not suddenly gained the weight and warmth of a real child.

“Jason’s a good boy. He won’t give you too much trouble,” Bruce murmurs.

When you look up, you catch the comet tail of a funny look, winking out of existence before you can see it properly. It triggers a crawling sensation on the back of your neck that you try to tamp down. Grief is all it is. You chalk it up to grief.

He takes your leave, then, piling into his car with a brief goodbye to the doll. A cloud of dust kicks up behind him and by the time it settles, the car has vanished.

The doll remains tucked in its bed in the hours that follows your employer’s departure, and once or twice you’ll peer into the room, tugged by an invisible string towards the empty bedroom to make sure you haven’t dreamt it all. But every time you open the door, there it lies, porcelain and so very still.

You take the rest of the evening to explore the house – properly this time, lingering in the various rooms of this huge home. Part of you wonders how you’ll manage to keep the place tidy. You’re no neat freak, but it seems a herculean task for one person to manage the entire household. Dust amasses easily, and you eye the high ceilings of each floor critically – how on earth are you meant to get up there?

You file it away as a worry for later, drifting in and out of rooms. An office, untouched, down the hall from your room with a sturdy, mahogany desk and large window which offers you a view of the estate. Guest rooms on guest rooms, white tarp covered furniture and slightly stale air. You find the library after a few turns, drawing closer to a table stacked with books.

They’re well loved, each with a child’s scrawling handwriting in the front cover. Property of Jason Peter Todd.

It sends a pang through you and you pick up the books, flipping through them absentmindedly. It’s fairly advanced for a younger child, you think. One of them piques your interest and when you leave the room a little while later, it’s with the hardcover in your hands.

Your first night in the manse is restless. The house is old. Every so often, the bones of the place snap and crack, shuddering under a great weight. You curl further into the heavy blankets of your bed, willing your burning eyes to close but the nap on the way up has left you unable to sleep. You let out a frustrated sigh, a hand smacking against the sheets before you push yourself up to sit against the headboard and switch on the bedside lamp. From where you sit, the mirror in the corner of the room shines your reflection back at you, a soft orange diffusing through the room.

Down the hall, another snap of the foundations. You shiver, and reach for the book, opening the cover to the name scribbled inside. The clock on your phone reads a bright 2:43 and you flip the page.

To Mrs. Saville, England. St. Petersburgh, Dec. 11th, 17—. You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil forebodings. I arrived here yesterday, and my first task is to assure my dear sister of my welfare and increasing confidence in the success of my undertaking...

Dawn comes in slow breaths, the world swallowed in a cool, blue mist as the sky begins to lighten. You have long since succumbed to your fatigue, the pages of your borrowed book splayed open against your sheets and eyes closed to the world. The shadows lengthen on the floor, the house echoes, groans, and sunlight slips in through the gaps in your curtains.

Still, you sleep.

The schedule that Bruce leaves you with is left on the table in Jason’s room, a sheaf of papers detailing his day at length – when he is to take his breakfast, lunch and dinner, when you are to sit down with him for his lessons.

There are more pressing things that hold your attention – namely, the matter of your coursework.

When you wake the following day, it is a little after noon and you curse when you realise you’ve slept half the day away. The list of things to do hasn’t grown any shorter in your search for a job. In fact, when you sit down at the desk in the office with your laptop and connect to the internet – poor, laggy – it only seems to have grown exponentially.

You spend most of the day holed up there, staring at the screen of your laptop as you try to catch up, typing out notes upon notes until your eyes burn and the emptiness of your stomach is too hard to ignore. In the kitchen, you assemble a plate of what you can find. Cold cuts of meat, cheese in the fridge that seems edible, bread slathered in butter, a few slices of fruit.

It isn’t a proper meal, but it tides you over until dinner, when you wander out of the study to root through the butler’s pantry and put together a simple bowl of pasta.

You eat alone in the kitchen, sitting at the island and staring at the grooves in the counter-top. The silence presses in on all sides of you and not even scrolling through social media, of which a limited number of posts actually deign to load, distracts you from the stillness of it all. For some reason the tinny sound of your music, filtering through your wired headphones, isn’t enough either.

Dinner is a short affair, before you return to your work.

It’s a gradual thing, the building anxiety in your gut. The loneliness and late hour are no friends of yours and the tottering pile of coursework threatens to topple over, crushing you beneath a mountain of assigned readings and lectures. The world had not waited for you to get your shit together, and midterms had crept up on you before you could blink.

It isn’t the time for panic. You stave it off when the anxiety simmering in your cells threatens to boil over, willing your tears away. The third cup of coffee at your desk side has grown cold, and the espresso tastes bitter when you bring the mug to your mouth, clinging to your tongue like film.

You get back to bed well into the evening, too exhausted to shower the day off. It’s all you can do to let out a few bitter tears before unconsciousness claims you, a distant throbbing in your head that you ignore in favour of sleep.

how is it out there? haven’t heard from you since you left, just checking in you get there okay? let me know

The texts on your phone are responded to in a perfunctory manner – yes, everything’s fine. talk 2 u soon. very busy !! – before you shove it into a drawer and return to your work.

You think the isolation must be getting to you when things begin to go missing.

It’s easy to grow lonely out here, you realise on the third day when you pick up your phone to message a friend and the connection is so bad your texts barely go through. A rare break from your work, you curl up in the window seat of your bedroom and thumb through the photos on your camera roll. Faces you haven’t seen, fond memories of nights out and shared experiences – your old life seems farther away from you than ever, and part of you is a little bitter that it’s only the case for you.

out for G’s bday!!! we miss u text u when im home?

Accompanying those texts are photos – they take an age to load, of course, but when they finally do, your eyes burn with jealousy at the wide, drunken grins, carefree and happy.

It seems especially cruel to you that fate would deal you such a poor hand in comparison to those around you. The girls you love – whose circle you’d once been part of, young, privileged enough to be reckless – get to reel through their lives without a care. Here you were, miles away from anyone else, a grand total of fifty dollars to your name and with only a fucking doll for company.

Envious, self loathing and miserable, you don’t reply to the messages.

You try to reason that you’ll get to it later, that you have work to do, that the house only seems to grow wider and lonelier around you.

Work.

You fling your phone to the side, pressing your hands to your face and letting out a heavy breath. It clatters against the floor with a dull thud and you can already imagine the newest addition to your screen’s collection of hairline fractures.

You file it away – just another thing you don’t have time for.

Back in the study, you sit down at the desk, only to stop short. Where your pen and notebook had been, outlining your midterm paper, the ballpoint is nowhere to be seen. You peer over the edge of the desk, ducking your head underneath, but there’s no sight of it. You’re certain you’d left it just there, atop the paper.

It’s innocuous enough that you forget about it, coming up with a replacement when you rifle through the drawer of the desk. The thought leaves your mind when you return to your work, new, blue ink crossing out black to scribble notes in the margins. It’s not a loss you mourn – or notice – much.

Your bracelet, however, preceded by the vanishing of your clothes, is.

A pair of jeans, your underwear and a shirt had been folded on the counter only twenty minutes ago when you’d entered the bathroom to take a shower. Now, clad in only your towel, you stare at an empty spot and feel something like fear prickle over your skin.

Blood rushes in your ears the longer you remain in place – for what, you have no idea. Perhaps willing your things to return in between blinks, assure you that it had only been a trick of the light, or that the caffeine and stress had gotten to you.

No such luck. Your belongings do not reappear and the longer you remain in the bathroom, the more you feel like a sitting duck, like soft-bellied prey waiting to be caught.

You venture out of the bathroom timidly, clutching the front of your towel. The floor is cold under your bare feet and you suck in a breath, trying to remain quiet. The house is quieter than usual, it feels like, when you peer carefully out into the hall. There is no sign of any disturbance, no sound from the lower levels or any of the surrounding rooms.

The closed door of your bedroom is much more ominous than it ought to be. You stare at it for a long time, heart in your throat, before you reach for the doorknob with shaky hands.

A soft, scared noise leaves your throat before you can reel it in. Your room has been nothing short of ransacked, clothes and other belongings strewn about your bed and the floor. There isn’t an inch of it that hasn’t been left unturned, drawers pulled out, trunk at the foot of your bed sprung open, the fucking covers pulled back. You step further into the room, horror only growing as you spin slowly, taking it in.

Somewhere down the hall, something clatters and your blood turns to ice in your veins. You whirl back to the open door and lunge forward to slam it shut, breath rattling in your chest as you fumble with the locks on it, palms sweaty and fingers trembling so badly you fear it’ll sweep open on you before you can latch it. Water drips into the carpet at your feet when you finally lock the door and back away, trembling lips pulling downwards.

Fear blurs your vision in saltwater, slipping down your cheeks when the sound of laughter filters through the walls, a soft, child-like, playful sound that only drives you further backwards, a scream spilling from your lips when you bump into the post of your bed, the wood pressing against your back unexpectedly and startling you.

“Please...” You don’t know what you’re pleading for, or who to. Tears stream down your damp face, and your breath hitches, stuttering over a sob when the shadows in the hall shift, the gap underneath the door showing movement right outside your door.

And then – so sweetly, so softly you wonder if you’ve heard it wrong – your name.

You begin to cry in earnest then, taking in big, shuddering breaths that wrack through your body. Crouching, you press your hands to your face, sobbing louder when the voice continues –

“Please come out, I promise I’ll be good.”

Your scream catches in your throat, turning into a spluttering cough when the door knob rattles slightly before stilling. You watch through teary eyes, snivelling, as the shadows move once more and then, as if it had never happened, the house falls into silence once more.

It takes a while for you to move from your spot on the floor, to relax your frozen muscles and pull yourself up, clinging to the banister of your bed to steady yourself. Snot and salt smeared across your face, you keep your eyes on the thin gap beneath the door, the small, solid mass in the centre of it.

You must be going crazy. The isolation must be getting to you. It’s the only reasonable explanation you can procure when you open the door and find your clothes in a clumsily folded pile, the metal of your bracelet glinting amongst the folds of fabric. Holding a hand to your head, you slump against the door frame, feeling the energy leave your body.

“Fuck.”

It takes you a long time to clean up your room, pulling on your clothes with an eye kept on the door and returning your things to their places. Nothing is broken, but you don’t know whether you should be thankful for it. The house continues to breathe as it had before, the structure settling back into place after letting whatever had been outside your door loose. You don’t leave your room for the rest of the night.

Daylight returns some of your courage to you. You venture outside, clutching the end of a pair of scissors as a safeguard. You don’t know how much damage they’re actually capable of, meant for cutting through first aid dressings and fabric, the blade barely an inch long – but it feels comforting that you aren’t empty handed.

In his bedroom, where you had last left the Doll, you do not find it. Even the sunlight streaming through the gauzy curtains isn’t enough to fully shield you from your unease. You look all over the room, pushing aside the curtains, peering under the bed, but it isn’t there.

The afternoon you had planned to spend studying is wasted away on a hunt for the thing. You check each of the surrounding rooms, first, before moving to the upper floors. In each, all that greets you is a thick layer of dust, white tarp and the smell of long undisturbed air. It grips you, the intense need to locate the doll. You cannot place anything beyond this feeling, only that you must find it.

In a downstairs office – what you assume serves as Mr Wayne’s study – you find, curiously, a few papers scattered over the edge of his desk. At first you are too preoccupied to pay it any mind, instinctively crouching to pick them up and arrange it. Your mind remains fixated on the task at hand.

Chance, or perhaps the machinations of fate, pulls your sight to the bright, bold print on the paper in your hand and you process the text belatedly, stilling on the floor.

GOTHAM GAZETTE Wayne Heir Found: Body Recovered From Tragic Blast Alexander Knox The body of Jason Todd, aged 10, was discovered yesterday after a blast in central Gotham that killed at least 200. The Gotham City Police Department is currently reporting this as a “tragic accident.” Jason Todd is survived by his father, Bruce Wayne, who currently holds the position of CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and older brother Richard Grayson. He is remembered by his classmates and teachers as a “bright soul, with boundless potential, who was taken too soon.” The GCPD are working together with the Gotham City Fire Department in responding to this incident. As of this morning, Rescue and Recovery teams have made progress through 75% of the fallout zone and are continuing to do so. Civilians are reminded to keep clear of the area until recovery efforts have been finalised. In remembrance of Jason’s life, the family asks that any charitable donations be made to the Catherine Todd Recovery Centre.

The photos of the fallout that accompany the article make your throat tighten, staring at the grey of a destroyed city block, smoking rubble and dark stains seeping from beneath cracked cement. The faded edges of the paper, the deep creases where it had been folded and unfolded – your heart twists painfully in your chest at the thought that Bruce had kept this reminder in here, all these years.

It lingers with you long after you exit the room, searching for the doll with a slightly muddled mind. You’d known, of course, that his son had died – but you think of the violence of it all, how abruptly he’d been ripped from him. It settles in your chest uncomfortably, making a home for itself in the space beneath your sternum and pressing down on your oesophagus as you move through the house.

When you finally chance upon the doll – sat upright in plain sight in the downstairs sitting room – you pause a few feet away. The fear of last night’s incident clings to you, but with that is something else, the makings of a theory you haven’t quite gotten to, another, foreign feeling that outweighs your fear, tempers it into something malleable. You scrutinise the porcelain face, drawing closer slowly until you come to a stop in front of the armchair you’d been lounging in only yesterday.

Crouching, you stare into dull glass eyes. They remain lifeless, forever affixed on nothingness, unmoving. You pass a hand over it.

“Was it..” you hesitate, feeling acutely aware that you’re talking to an inanimate object, and half expecting an answer. You whisper, “Was it you, last night?”

There is no answer. Of course there isn’t. Still, you stare a moment longer, before your gaze slides over to the leaf of paper that’s tucked beneath it’s leg – the schedule of rules you’re meant to abide by in Bruce’s absence.

You look back up to the doll.

You’ve bowed to the pressure of your isolation and gone mad, you think absently as you sink a knife into the flesh of an apple. Clumsily cut, you arrange the slices onto a plate in the kitchen and slide it onto the small table where you’ve sat the doll. You lean forward until you’re level with it, and narrow your eyes.

“Is it you?” you ask again. Silence hangs in the air of the kitchen and you begin to feel a little hopeless, clinging to this half-formed idea.

You stand and turn, taking a few steps forward into the butler’s pantry but the sound of footsteps makes you whirl around, heart in your throat. The doll remains in place, but – the plate is empty. You draw in a shaky breath, moving closer.

“What the fuck. What the fuck.” Your hands tremble as you peer around the kitchen, eyeing the closed door. It’s implausible that anyone might have moved in such a short space of time without your noticing – you’re the only one in the room.

You try once more, this time without turning around, keeping your gaze fixed on the doll as you slide a plate of toast in front of him. It’s covered in a thin smear of hazelnut spread, the chocolate melting over the warm bread.

The doll does not move.

Your brows draw together, confused. A few beats. The toast is cooling, and a silly, superficial part of you worries that it won’t taste any good if this goes on any longer.

“Are you shy...?” you wonder out loud. The doll does not answer you but you turn away slowly anyway, fixing your eyes on the back door.

A second passes, and then another. You wait.

You feel it then, a few moments later, rather than hear it. It’s difficult to place, the manner in which the very atmosphere in the kitchen shifts, to let you know you are no longer the only one in here. There is the rustle of something moving, the bread, you think, and then it recedes entirely without a sound.

You wait a few beats before you turn, and your breath punches out of you in a rush when you note the once again empty plate. Disbelieving, you laugh.

“Holy shit.” Rounding the table, you pick up the doll, handling its weight much more carefully as you hold it out in front of you. “It was you, then, last night. You know, if you wanted my attention, you’ve got a funny way of showing it, kid. I think I lost ten years of my life with that little stunt.”

The threat seems to abate, after that, when you consider it. The spirit of a lonely child tugs at your poor heartstrings, and when you open your bedroom door after your evening shower to find a clumsily arranged sandwich, it only softens you further. You go to check on the doll – on Jason – and find him sat in bed, his schedule next to him once again.

“So this is what you want, hm?” you mutter under your breath, scanning the paper. Your lips tug downwards into a pout, and you reach out to fix his hair. “Poor thing. You must be bored out here, with no one else to play with.”

He doesn’t say anything, but you find you already know the answer.

Rules 1. No Guests 2. Never Leave Jason Alone 3. Save Meals in Freezer 4. Never Cover Jason’s Face 5. Read a Bedtime Story 6. Play Music Loud 7. Clean the Traps 8. Jason is Never to Leave 9. Kiss Goodnight

You bring him almost everywhere with you after that.

There’s a shift in your mind after your discovery, a distinction that shifts the doll into Jason. You’re able to rest a little easier now, knowing what had been behind the disturbances, and that it wasn’t something you had to fear. He sits comfortably in a chair next to you in the study, keeping you company as you return to your studies, worries that you’d been dealing with something more nefarious comfortably assuaged.

You learn to communicate with him, in your own shared way. The music you play as you study is no longer isolated to your headphones, but filters through the speakers of your laptop as you work. When you begin making your own offhand remarks to him, you don’t know, but as the hours pass it feels less like you’re unaccompanied and more like you’re studying with a friend. Every so often, there is a sign – a tap, or the roll of something on the floor outside the study – that signals you to take a break, pushing away from the desk to take a turn about the room with Jason in your arms.

Once, during a longer break, you bring him along on a walk outside. He doesn’t seem to like it very much – hiding your notebook until you figure it out. And you suppose spirits don’t require much exercise, so you let it be, content to take quick trips to the kitchen for snacks. You keep it for after the day is over, right before the sun sets, stretching your legs as you walk around the gardens before dinner.

Before you’ve realised, you’ve built a camaraderie with Jason. It’s easy for you to confide in him, slumping back in your desk chair with your hands pressed to your face. Tonight, the amount of coursework seems, not for the first time, never-ending. Tears streak through your fingers as you quietly sob.

“I’m so tired,” you cry, and a little hiccup stutters out of you. “It’s so...it’s just unfair. None of this would’ve happened if I’d – if I wasn’t so busy trying to look for a place.”

You work yourself up, tears smearing against the deep hollows beneath your eyes – despite how comfortable your bed is, lately you’ve still been working late into the night, long after you put Jason to sleep with a kiss to his brow. Though the night is young enough that you won’t have to tuck Jason in for a while, it still presses on you. There is too much to do, and not nearly enough time.

“It’s not fair,” you mumble again, weakly. You slide a look over to Jason through swollen eyes, pressing your cheek against your knees. “Everyone else gets to – they get to not care about money and they get to enjoy their lives. It’s just...not fair.”

You close your eyes, hiding your face in the fabric of your leggings. Your head feels congested, after crying so much, heavy, and stuffed with wool. A few minutes later, as you’re working up the will to return to your work, you hear a thud.

When you look up you find an apple on the corner of the desk, bright red and freshly washed, if the few drops of water that cling to it are anything to go by. The sight makes you burst into fresh tears again, a kindness that feels too tender for your poor, bruised heart. You reach for the fruit, feeling the juice run down your wrist when you sink your teeth into its flesh. Mumbling a thank you, you feel, for the first time since your arrival, your hopelessness begins to flicker out.

A crash wakes you in the middle of the night, startling you from your sleep with a jolt. At first, you think it might be Jason. You groan quietly, rolling over into the pillow with a grumble of his name before you sit up and shove the covers off. It’s particularly freezing tonight and you reach for a robe as you shuffle over to your bedroom door only to stop short when, through the walls, floating up from the lower floors, you hear voices.

Your blood turns to ice in your veins and you register the shattering of something downstairs. In the moments that follow, you barely think, flying down the hall to where Jason’s bedroom is and clutching him close to your chest. All the while, the racket downstairs grows louder, raucous bickering and jeering laughter nipping at your heels as you push into a spare room and slip into the depths of a wardrobe.

You kick yourself when you realise you haven’t brought your phone, the landline in Jason’s room being too far out of reach now to dial the local police. You can only press yourself further into the wardrobe, cradling Jason with a hand on the back of his head like you might your own child – like he shouldn’t have to bear witness to the violence enacted on his home. Tears – how many have you spent since your arrival, it must be enough to fill an ocean – slip onto your collar and you hide in a case that smells of mothballs, the fur of old coats brushing against your arms and face.

“It’s going to be okay,” you whisper, feeling half crazed as you comfort Jason. “We’re going to be okay.”

It’s the longest night of your life, waiting for them to leave. Even without you leaving a crack in the wardrobe door, the noise from downstairs would have reached you. It’s jumbled in your fear-addled mind, but you hear the shatter of glass and yelling – they break out into arguments amongst themselves. You can’t make out the words, but it carries the threat of further violence – the kind that goes beyond stolen valuables and broken glassware.

And then, abruptly, you think you hear a whisper of something, before it all falls still.

The darkness in the wardrobe is stifling but you remain there, clutching Jason with your head bowed until you hear a shout announcing the presence of the police.

It’s only when the Commissioner announces himself, climbing to the second floor of the manor and stepping into the room, that you crawl out from the wardrobe. You’re shaking when he steps forward to meet you, arms coming around you to help you stand.

You’re coaxed into a blanket and ushered into a chair as they question you – the tiles of the kitchen floor are freezing under your bare feet and you wince when you catch the looks his deputies share amongst themselves. You must look like a mess, tear tracks drying on your face and cradling a doll in your arms.

There’s a look in the Commissioner’s eyes, as he questions you, that makes the hair on the back of your neck raise – you forget about it quickly enough when he presses further, but later you’ll recall it. There’s a lack of surprise in his gaze, as though he hadn’t expected any less. You figure he’s hardened by his profession. Still, it lingers in the recesses of your mind.

They clean it up quick enough, and they leave right as the sun begins to creep over the horizon. You see them off, standing on the front steps with a shock blanket wrapped around your shoulders and Jason in your arms. When the last of the car headlights fade out of sight, you turn back inside.

You venture into the living room, staring at where the sunlight catches on a stray shard of glass, scuffs on the floor where heavy boots had tracked mud in on the hardwood. The lingering smell of peroxide – all that it suggests had happened here – makes you let out a shaky breath, clutching Jason closer.

You know it then, what – who had kept you safe. And if there were any lingering doubts about him, they dissolve under your tongue. The solid weight of the mass in your arms is an anchor, grounding you, reminding you. Safe. You’re unharmed, you’re okay. The intrusion is gone, it’s just the both of you now. You turn your head, pressing your mouth to his hairline. It’s cold beneath your lips as you whisper, a tear carving a path down your cheek.

“Thank you, Jason.”

After the intrusion things, mercifully, begin to settle. You’re glad for it, sure you’ve fulfilled your share of excitement for the next decade. You return to your and Jason’s routine, rebuilding your shattered safe space with every album you introduce him to and each portion of coursework you complete. Brick by brick, you patch the rift.

The evening you finally feel as though you’ve begun to make headway, you turn to him, overjoyed, patting his hand excitedly.

“I think we deserve a bit of celebration, don’t we, Jason?”

You make dinner for the both of you, a simple but favourite pasta dish of yours that you’re grateful to have made extra of when Jason clears his plate in the time it takes you to carry your own plate into the dining room where you’d set him down. You pout at him sympathetically, running a hand over his head.

“If you’re still hungry,” you murmur, taking a seat and spearing a pasta shell on your fork, “there’s more in the pan, sweetheart.”

In the next room, a clatter almost immediately and it draws a smile on your face. You treat yourself to a glass of something sweet, giggling when the bubbles flit up your nose and pop. The taste lingers on your tongue when, after dinner, you scoop him up into your arms and travel into the living room. A record is placed onto the old gramophone and you spin on your feet, socked feet sinking into the plush carpet as you dance around the room. You spin, and spin, and spin until you land on the couch, laughing breathlessly. On the couch, Jason watches until you pick him up once more and dance with him in your arms. You’re careful with him, conscious of tripping in your state and dropping him. You think he might enjoy it, when you hear the whisper of laughter alongside your own.

When you tuck him into bed that night, it’s with a giddy smile as you kiss his forehead. You go to bed feeling floaty, lighter than you’ve felt in an age. There’s a buzz in your veins that isn’t entirely the drink. You’re happy. It isn’t the same as the life you’d wanted back so fervently, but you’re hopeful. It feels, for the first time, like things might work out. You cling to this victory with a vice grip, unwilling to be parted from it.

Your head hits the pillow and you sleep easily, but wake in the middle of the night, slipping out of hazy dreams into consciousness like slipping upstream. You’re distinctly aware of the wetness pooling between your legs, and the lingering warmth of the drinks.

It’s been a long time. The stress of everything – moving, money, adjusting to the manor – has left you unable to focus on anything else. Tonight, though, a reprieve from it all, a break in the clouds offers you a spike in your energy, a longing that heats the blood in your veins and makes your stomach twist. For the first time in a long time, you indulge, fingers creeping beneath the waistband of your pants.

He watches you touch yourself, the night spent tending to what is a seemingly insatiable appetite. Hardening in his trousers, he stands behind the panelling and a large hand curls into a fist by his side, nails digging into the meat of his palm so hard he draws blood. You work yourself up, differently from the way you had when he’d revealed himself. It’s gentler, fingers skimming over your skin beneath the fabric of your shirt. In the dark his gaze sharpens on the soft plane of your stomach, your body shifting under every touch, pliant and responsive.

You come, and it isn’t enough. He tastes copper, sees stars when you kick the covers off and his keen eyes make out the folds of your cunt, sodden and wanting. Your body is covered in a sheen of sweat when you finally, finally, drift off to sleep. Hungry little thing, his girl. You’ll want for nothing, he thinks, remembering the debauched way you’d put your fingers to your mouth. He recalls the slick sounds, the little whines, drawn out and practically demanding he come forth to please you. With no one around for miles to hear you, unknowingly, you feed him with your gasps.

He longs for it, imagines putting his mouth to you. How you’d keen, how you’d thrash under his hold like you had tonight, legs kicking out under the full force of your pleasure. But he’d hold you down, he thinks, breathing hard, draw even more wretched sounds from that mouth – pretty, soft mouth that always curled around his name so sweetly – than the ones you’d spilled out tonight. Prettier, than the sobs of the last few weeks, that’d had him gritting his teeth. He likes you drunk and dizzy on pleasure like this, likes the breathless, open mouthed smile that pushes the apples of your cheeks upwards. This, he thinks, is all you should know, tears born of desire. Not jittery hands, or envy.

Frail, pretty thing. You need to be taken care of. You wouldn’t know worry ever again, he would take care of you, would take care of everything. You’ll want for nothing.

His chest heaves at the thought, muscles tensing as if readying to crash through the wood at a moment’s notice.

No, he thinks, taking a shuddering breath. He can almost taste you from here but – not yet.

You wake up sticky, despite the chill in the air. Late autumn carries with it hints of the oncoming winter – you think it’s going to be a bad one, if your fingertips are numb already. It takes a bit of maneuvering to untangle yourself from the web of sheets and when you finally stand, there’s a distant ache in your head, a dryness in your throat that makes you grimace.

You drag yourself into the shower, scrubbing off the filth of last night’s activities and letting the warm water run over your muscles. The steam fills the air of the bathroom, thick enough to trap the warmth when you step out and reach for your towel.

It confuses you, though, once you’ve dried off and moisturised, that when you turn to reach for your clothes, they aren’t there. A sense of déjà vu settles over you. Significantly more awake, you wrap the towel around you once more and make the trek back to your room, a little peeved.

“Jason,” you call out as you pad down the hall, trying to keep the bite in your tone from being too harsh. “This isn’t funny, it’s cold. I’m not very impressed right now.”

Not even a laugh, but you’re too huffy to notice, picking up your clothes from where he’d relocated them to the top of your dresser and shutting your door firmly.

When you go to pick him up before breakfast – closer to lunch, now, really – you frown at him.

“Not cool, kid,” you tell him. “What if I got sick? Who’d make you lunch, then, hm? You can’t survive on peanut butter sandwiches alone.”

It feels a little as though you’ve regressed over the next week. More and more things go missing, only to turn up in the oddest places. You think he might be a little more playful, finally comfortable around you, but it’s hard to find gratification in that when your underwear joins the catalogue of missing things, turning up when you take your laundry out to hang even though you know you hadn’t put them in the washing. So maybe there’s a bit of wilful ignorance there. You don’t know how to address this, the pressing feeling of eyes on you at every moment now, an obvious presence that lingers around you more insistently, it feels, than before.

And you can’t place what’s brought this on, don’t know what’s to blame for this turn in his mood, toeing the line of malevolent, no longer innocently playful but shifting into something more intent, dull blue eyes seeming darker these days, more watchful.

“What’s going on, huh?” you ask, when you put him to bed, brushing a hand over his hair. “How come you don’t wanna be good anymore? Is something up? I don’t know, kid, I’m not a mind reader.”

You let out a breath, shaking your head. Leaning forward, you brush your lips against his forehead. “Let’s have a better day tomorrow, okay? Goodnight, Jason.”

Midnight comes to you in slow winks that night, the pages of Jason’s book marked with a ribbon and placed carefully to the side with the half-formed, tired thought that you would talk to him about it tomorrow. Perhaps it would soften whatever had him agitated as of late. The lamp switches off, and you breathe out into the darkness, one last sigh before sleep claims you.

You wake up to a pressing blackness. Not even the moonlight breaks through the clouds to offer you reprieve tonight, the very air sucked out of the room. Groggy, sleep still clinging to you like silken threads of a spider’s web around your eyes, you blink rapidly. The darkness settles around you and your vision adjusts.

The first thing you notice is the hulking silhouette at the foot of your bed and you freeze under the covers, breath punching out of your chest.

Your first thought is to scream. Before your lips can even part, a rough palm is pressing over your mouth and tears prick your eyes.

(What’s the point? Who is there to hear you scream so far out here?)

In the dim, your tearful eyes adjust further and your heart seizes in your chest when you make out the glint of white – a porcelain mask, a face that’s been your only companion these last few weeks. The cupid’s bow, rosy cheeks greyed in the dark. Down to the very last detail, it’s him.

The cause of all the haunting, the thief of your belongings, sentry of this manor. Not a spirit, but real, solid flesh and blood. He looms over you. There’s a solid weight that settles into the cradle of your hips, arms that cage you in, the smell of sawdust and something. Unbidden, your mind tugs back to you the missing lace, satin stolen by unseen hands – the very hands that press on your mouth and side, now, calloused, roughened.

The whisper of your name hangs in the air between you, your resounding whimper muffled.

It’s faster than it ought to be, your compliance, going limp in his hold and ceasing your thrashing. You stare tearfully, heart in your throat, up at him. He lingers like this a moment longer before withdrawing, seemingly satisfied you won’t bolt. Slowly, you push up onto your elbows. The movement brings your face closer to his, and it takes every ounce of your willpower not to flinch at the proximity. He seems pleased enough, however, head tilting, rather like a cat, tracking your movements carefully.

It isn’t as though you’re going anywhere, his weight yet to lift from your legs. You reach out to the side, a shaking hand scrabbling for the flip of a switch. The sudden flood of orange light into the room, soft though it is, makes you flinch.

It’s the eyes that you’re drawn to first. Through the holes of the mask, you meet ultramarine eyes, leagues beyond that of the painting downstairs, which couldn’t hold a candle to the vibrant irises that stare back at you now. Your breath catches when he leans in a hair’s breadth closer and he pauses.

Your voice fails you, when you part your lips to speak, frightened tears wetting your face. You clear your throat, and try once more.

“Jason?”

Dark lashes flutter, something pleased passing through his gaze, something like an unspoken affirmation. It floors you, the blood rushing from your head and leaving you dizzy all of a sudden. He swallows your field of vision, so impossibly big, broad and nothing about him carrying any of the delicateness your doll had. Dark curls fall over the edges of the mask, dark hair peeking beneath it, trailing down the sides of his jaw.

You reach out, carefully, and he lets you press a hand to his chest – clad in a thin, dirtied henley. He gives under the slightest pressure, drawing back until he’s sitting on his haunches, your legs free. You let go, pushing yourself further up against the headboard of the bed and bringing your knees to your chest. He watches, silent, unmoving except for the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest. Real, solid, flesh and blood.

“You’ve been alive this whole time?” The dust clings to your sticky cheeks and you swipe at them again. Your breaths are shaky as you come down from your fright. He nods, and you wince, the porcelain mask shining as it reflects the light of your lamp.

“Can you – will you take that off? Please?” He stills and you, foolish, softened by fear or trust, scoot forward a little, legs folding under you. Now it’s his turn to widen the distance between you. You let out a soft warble, lips trembling. “It’s scaring me.”

“...Scary?” His voice is hoarse from disuse, and your eyes drop to his sides, watching his fingers curl into fists. “Under...you won’t like it..”

Your breath catches on a sob and you shake your head. You’re still shaking, still scared. He draws a little closer, hands raising as if to reach for you, and you flinch. “Please, Jason.”

Time stretches so long you fear you’ll remain here forever, trembling, suffocating, before big hands reach up to his face. He’s shaking, too, you notice absently. His head bows when the mask is discarded to the side, lying atop your sheets face down. The shadows obscure him slightly, cloaking his face from you, only the dark thatches of hair that cover his jaw visible to you.

You whisper his name.

His eyes flash when he lifts his head, blue flickering into a green glow so suddenly it feels like a trick of the light – gone in an instant. Scarred flesh, waxy, pink patches of skin and pale, jagged remnants of lacerations; he bares himself to you and your breath catches in your throat.

There are remnants of a classical beauty in his face, beneath the scarring. It’s the kind that would’ve made you stop short on the street, that would’ve brought warmth to your face if you’d met his eyes across a subway car during rush hour. The violence wrought renders him no less handsome but lends a brutality to him, the oppressive aura that cloaks him impossible to ignore, laid bare across his face. Still, there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that your attention snags on, a child-like wariness that reminds you of the headline you’d found in Bruce’s office that day.

Silly, soft-hearted girl. It makes your heart ache, and once the tears start, they refuse to stop. Your hand draws closer to cradle his face, hovering a hair’s breadth from his cheek before he makes the leap for you, leaning against your touch. His own comes up, fingers pressing beneath your eye.

“Crying..”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, sniffling, wiping your nose on your sleeve. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“Crying for me?” His voice sounds odd, a tone you can’t quite read through your tears. You try to look away but he refuses to let you, clumsy fingers swiping beneath your eyes.

“You didn’t deserve that. That must’ve been so scary,” you sniffle, and look up at him. “Why were you...why’d you hide? Did – did your father know?”

His eyes flash at the mention of Bruce, and you still at the anger that lines his face.

“Bastard,” he mutters, a decade’s worth of pain packed into one word. It hints to a history you aren’t privy to, raw, jagged wounds still bleeding from an age old hurt. He stiffens and you slide your hand to his shoulder.

“Okay, don’t – we don’t have to talk about him,” you defer hastily, wary of the way his muscles ripple, the thrum of lightning barely contained beneath his skin. It reminds you of something else. “Was...It was you...that night, when they -”

Your breath stutters on the memory of the invasion, and his eyes darken. He crowds into your space more, ducking his head to meet your eyes. More green than blue now, he wills you to understand the severity of his promise.

“Keep you safe,” he says, and you barely notice the hand that curls possessively around your hip, your heart thrumming anxiously in its cavity at the threat of violence his words carry. And yet, you can’t deny it to yourself that it quiets a part of you, too, stills a restlessness that had lingered in your skin after that night.

You don’t consider that night, why he had chosen to reveal himself to you – properly, in all his glory, stripped of parlour tricks and the facade – you’re too relieved that he doesn’t intend to hurt you to linger on it. He lets you guide him back to his room and draw the covers over him, the mask carefully carried in your hands and placed on the bedside table. He catches your hand when you go to leave and for a moment you fear he’ll demand something of you, blue eyes flashing cat’s eye green for the briefest of moments. He lets you go after a moment’s scrutiny, and you eke out a timid goodnight, returning to your bedroom in a daze.

Perhaps you ought to have, though. Perhaps it might have suited you better to linger on the why, to consider what this meant, that there was something in motion, had been since your arrival. Exhaustion renders you pliant, however, and you slip into dreamless sleep the moment your head hits the pillow, the lingering smell of sawdust beneath your nose.

Jason makes it easy on you. It’s a little eerie in a way, re-learning him and yet finding all the hints of your spirit companion in him. He doesn’t stray far from you, content to continue to sit at your side when you sit down for your classes. In the morning, when you go to check on him, he is already awake, and you usher him into the bathroom, unsure at all whether you even should follow the schedule but moving mechanically if only for something to do, to avoid floundering. He waits by the door as you brush your teeth, eyes fixed on you.

You find yourself returning the stare, brows furrowing as you take in every inch of him. Dust and dirt clings to his skin. You wonder when the last time he’d bathed was. You tell him as much, receiving only a blank stare. Uncommunicative, even now.

“You should take a bath,” you murmur, worrying the skin of your lip with your teeth. “I don’t want you to get sick, or something.”

He’s compliant enough, letting you steer him into the bathroom and turning the knobs of the tub. Water comes spraying out, and you startle a little when the pipes whine, but ultimately settle. Dipping a hand in, you test the temperature before looking over your shoulder. He stands by your side, and you tilt your head to the water.

“Will you check if this is okay?” He obeys, dropping his chin in a short nod after brushing his fingers in. You offer him a short smile, and move to stand.

“I’ll try to find some clothes, this is...” you hesitate, looking at the hem of his shirt. “You can’t wear this.”

But his arm blocks your path when you go to step around him, curling around your midsection to keep you in place. You look up, startled. You try to move but he doesn’t budge, looking down at you intently.

“You’ll stay.” It isn’t a request, nor a command, but he delivers it firmly, a matter of fact statement – that you will remain here, with him. You balk, blood rushing to your face.

“I can’t!” you protest, stepping back if only to escape the barricade of his arm, your hands coming up to rest on your hips. “That’s not – Jason, it’s not-”

“You’ll stay,” he repeats, simply, rock-salt voice echoing slightly in the bathroom. Water drips into the steaming bath, and you’re at an impasse, abject indignation warming your veins.

In the end, you give in. You think there was no possible outcome where you did not acquiesce to his whims – you recall the destruction he’d wreaked on his father’s office the night you had foregone a kiss goodnight, frightening you back into his room to press your lips to his temple. You sit by the side of the tub, handing him a cloth and keeping your eyes trained firmly ahead of you as he scrubs himself down. Somehow, you end up washing his hair for him, soapy water providing a suitable enough cover that you breathe a sigh of relief. It’s the gentlest you’ve ever seen him, pleased and bath soft, skin flushed and curls wet against his forehead as you pour water over his crown.

He only lets you go once the water begins to grow cool and you insist on finding clean clothes for him. It’s easier than you think, rifling through the drawers in the master bedroom and finding a pair of soft trousers and t-shirt that you figure will fit him. You keep your back turned when he emerges from the bath, waiting until he’s dressed to face him with warmth in your cheeks. The glimpse you’d caught as he’d risen from the water had made you squeak, hard lines and dark hair, wet skin glistening – all Man, real, breathing, human man. It’s a jarring contrast from the sexless porcelain of his counterpart. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of his broad chest and you promptly whirl around, guilt swarming in your stomach at your momentary lapse in senses.

(In his mind he thinks, don’t you know you’re all his, as he is yours? There is no inch of him that isn’t for your eyes.)

When you sit down for your classes later, you’re more conscious of his presence than ever, a warm arm diffusing soft heat at your elbow. He only shakes his head when you ask if he would rather do something else and you get the feeling later, when you take a bathroom break, that he would follow after you, had you not closed it between you.

He sits close when you have lunch, knee knocking into yours beneath the table in the kitchen. You watch him eat, ravenous, and your wariness melts a little at the familiarity. This, you knew. This, you could handle. When he finishes his plate you push your own towards him in lieu of pointing to the pan but he surprises you – shaking his head and watching you carefully until he’s satisfied you’re fed.

It’s sort of like losing a friend to gain a guard dog. He lingers by your side, catalogues your every movement and bosses you around where he sees fit. You don’t know how to feel about it, and don’t witness the full extent of it until, midway through your lunch, there’s a knock at the back door.

Reactive, he’s a wraith at your back, chair clattering and pressing you away. No guests. You recall the first rule in his schedule as you wrangle him, a hand tight on his chest to set him at ease. You figure it’s fear, in his own, muddled way. There had been a break in, after all, he wouldn’t take kindly to anyone else on the property – you were the only one meant to be here.

“It’s only the groceries,” you whisper, fingers circling around his wrist and pressing down against his pulse to draw his attention. Green eyes strike you down, near unseeing in his wrath and you startle. The seconds pass and you figure the longer this goes unhandled, the likelier Jason is to react for the worse. You take a deep breath, wrangling your own unease to step in front of him, blocking off his path to the door and squeezing his wrist once more.

“I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay,” you murmur, stroking the back of his hand comfortingly. “Just wait here for me, okay? It’s okay.”

He lingers in the room, though it seems only you’re aware of it as the delivery boy brings the bags in. You’re thankful he doesn’t loiter, unwilling to test Jason’s thin patience. The very shadows in the room seem to stretch the longer it takes and by the time the final bag is carried in and the receipt is left on the counter, you fear the kitchen floor will start to crack beneath your feet.

He’s on you the moment the door shuts, wrapping himself around you to run big hands over your sides, assessing you like he hadn’t kept you in his line of sight the entire exchange. You sigh, letting him tilt your chin, inspecting your face. The green in his eyes has completely swallowed the shades of blue, pupils dilated as he closes in on you.

“I’m fine,” you assure. He seems ill-convinced, but finally lets go. “Come on. You’re probably still hungry. Maybe that’s why you’re acting like this.”

He lets out a puff of breath in response and you let out a small laugh.

You make the mistake that night, when you see him off to bed, of unthinkingly voicing out loud as you look around the room,

“Isn’t it -” you hesitate, feeling your words catch on something. You ought to listen to it, but he tilts his head inquisitively, and it coaxes it out of you. “Doesn’t it feel weird sleeping in here? It’s a kid’s room. I don’t think you even fit in that bed.”

His eyes gleam, and you don’t understand what for until he pushes up from the covers and stands. Your brows draw together, confused, but you have no time to question it, weight on your shoulders pushing you forward until you’re steered down the hall to –

Your room.

You stare, wide eyed, as he pushes you; he’s clumsy, but gentle, fingers coaxing you under your covers before rounding the bed to slip under them on your other side. Your heart catches in your throat, alarmed.

“Jason – no, this isn’t what I meant, you-” He turns on his side and you fall silent.

“Kiss goodnight,” he murmurs, a hand reaching out beneath the soft weight of your covers to tug you closer, warmth searing through your pants where it rests on your hip. You resist, pressing against his chest to create a modicum of distance between you, but it’s impossible against his strength. Again, your mind supplies you unhelpfully with attention to the heat that rolls off him, the proximity or lack thereof between you.

“Are you – did the delivery upset you? Is this why-” You’re grasping for straws, searching for something to cling to, a reason that softens the weight of his gaze and all that lies behind it. You blind yourself to it, convince yourself the flash of his eyes is affirmation, let yourself believe it, breathing out a shaky, “Okay.”

“Kiss.” He repeats the word, and your chest presses against his. He’s a furnace, warmth trapped beneath the covers threatening to burn you alive. Your mouth is dry as you lean up, smoothing a hand against his curls to flatten them backwards, bare his temple to you.

“Goodnight,” you whisper, into his hairline, lips brushing against the raised outline of a pale scar.

Slowly, the sands in your hourglass begin to trickle to an end.

The kisses brush closer and closer these days. No longer do your lips meet the spot at his hairline, or his temple. The first time Jason brings a hand to your cheek and guides you lower, you’re too surprised to do anything, kissing the higher point of his cheekbone and pulling away hastily, face warm. It feels so incredibly inappropriate, letting him continue to blur the boundaries between you. He makes a noise of discontent the next night, when you return to his forehead, only settling back into your sheets when your mouth finds his cheek. The hand on the back of your neck is heavy, fingers brushing against the small hairs in feather light touches and sending shocks of something down your spine.

He sleeps on his side, always, facing you. You can feel his eyes on your back as you feign sleep. Is it unwise, to turn your back to him, you wonder. The idea of sleeping on your other side makes your stomach curdle, his breath fanning over your cheek, nose brushing against yours – much too close, too intimate for the way he’s been acting lately. You fear if you give him an inch you’ll never come back from it.

(Silly little thing. You were his the moment you stepped over the threshold.)

Tonight, Jason is heavier handed with you than usual. Something simmers in your gut as he presses on the back of your neck, green eyes near luminescent under the swathes of soft orange light from your lamp. You waver, but it’s all you can do to give in, your arms threatening to buckle under you if you don’t follow. Hovering over his side, you bend your head.

Lower still, Jason pulls you to him – you only barely manage to avoid meeting his lips with your own, skating the corner of his mouth and planting a clumsy peck there. When you chance a look up at him, he’s already watching you, a crease where his eyebrows meet.

“Kiss goodnight,” he says, expectantly, voice rough with an undercurrent of something eerily like want. It makes your breath hitch.

“I...I did,” you stammer, one last attempt at resistance. He doesn’t buy it, blinking slowly at you.

“Kiss.”

Saliva pools in your mouth the longer he stares at you, time stretching between you as he waits and when you swallow, his gaze flicks down to track the movement of your throat, pupils dilating. Now, only a thin ring of green surrounds the vastness of black, observing your every action.

Finally, seemingly sick of your inaction, Jason shifts upwards on the bed and you squeak in surprise, reeling backwards only to meet the solid wall of his hand. Your heart races in your chest, sounds spilling out of your mouth that are muffled when he closes the distance and slants his lips against yours.

It’s a wet, messy thing, clumsy and hungry. Jason’s tongue slides against your bottom lip hungrily and you, foolishly, part your lips to protest. He only uses it to push further, tongue tracing the contours of your mouth, a deep groan wracking through him, a deep-seated tremor that you think he must have been holding back for a long time. His hand fists the material of your pants, the other bearing down on your neck as if to press you even closer. Your own are helpless against his chest, unbalanced and tottering forward onto his lap, trying to push away –

“Mmh, no, J-” you’re cut off, unable to get out a single word. “’S wrong.”

He ignores you, swallowing the pitiful whimper you let out to lick into your mouth. You’re dizzy, head spinning from the lack of air, mouth swollen and spit slicked. Against his chest, your fists push weakly, your strength pale in comparison to his. Absently, a part of you wonders if that’s really the reason you aren’t trying harder – a distinct pressure growing between your legs that you try to tamp down.

Your spine arches ever so slightly under his fingers, legs bracketing his hips to accommodate his size. The throb you feel between your legs is not only his.

But it’s wrong. You can’t.

Uncaring of your internal conflict, the world around you tips in a matter of seconds and you blink up at Jason, vision swimming as he comes into sight. Your positions are now reversed, with him hovering over your body, pressed flat against the wrinkled sheets. Your clothing is rumpled, top riding up the expanse of your stomach and baring your flesh to hungry eyes.

He remains between your legs, an arm descending beside you to hold himself up as he closes in. You shake your head, twisting to avoid the wet press of his mouth against yours again, your hand coming to press against his shoulder.

“No– ‘s wrong,” you murmur, desperately, trying to push him away. Undeterred, his mouth trails over the line of your jaw and you stumble over a gasp when his teeth graze over your skin, taking it between his lips and nipping, tongue flicking out almost immediately after to soothe the sting, something like a keen in his throat when you squirm beneath him. You draw blood trying to stifle the sound you nearly make as a result of it, legs going to press together but only tightening around his waist.

“Not,” he pants, hand on your leg squeezing, trailing higher until it skims the space above your waistband, fingers ghosting over your bare belly. His touch leaves a trail of wildfire behind it, burning licks over your skin that make you gasp. “Not wrong.”

You whimper, a haze of desire settling like a cloud cover over your guilt when he flattens his hand over your stomach and presses down, eyes flashing possessively as he delivers his next blow. “Not wrong,” he repeats in a reverent whisper, leaning down until you’re nose to nose. The smell of cedarwood fills your nose, a history he’s unable to scrub no matter how much of your soap he uses, the milk and honey scented liquid bubbling over his skin. You hold your breath, eyes widening, the flex of his bicep in your periphery as he supports his weight with one arm. “You’re mine.”

The tears leak out of your eyes, and you shake your head. “I’m – not.”

Nose caressing yours – “You are,” he confirms steadily, voice low.

You understand then, the curtains pulling back to reveal the future that has been hanging in the wings this whole time for you, the fate you’d sealed for yourself. The long absence of his father, the shiftiness in Bruce’s demeanour when you’d met him and the eagerness in which he took his leave. Your very purpose, here – all of it, every strand, threaded, curling around you.

It all leads to Jason.

He swallows your sob with an open mouthed kiss, then, and the sands of time run out.

It’s horrifying, the gentleness he treats you with, divesting you of your clothing like you might wilt under his fingers if he isn’t careful, delicate flower that he thinks you to be. There’s adoration in every touch, worship in his eyes. Layer by layer, they come off until you’re bare beneath him, swathes of orange light swimming over your belly and lighting a fire in his eyes. They’re green again, now, near neon in hue, teeming with barely restrained hunger. His fingers shake, hovering over your sides, pressing you down when you try to raise your arms. One broad hand swallows your wrists, held against the soft flesh of your stomach as the other begins to tug his shirt off.

Your breath catches in your throat, whimpered pleas clogging your airway when his fingers drift to the waistband of his pants. Scars, so many scars line the expanse of his torso. His body is a map of puckered lines and flat, pale marks, a lifetime of brutality carved into his skin. Dark whorls of hair dust his chest and stomach, a pattern that continues lower as he tugs his trousers off, muscles flexing as he twists. In another lifetime, under an entirely different set of circumstances, you might’ve salivated at the sight of a man like this, might’ve reached out to splay a hand against his barrel chest, reveled in how miniscule you were in comparison. In another lifetime, there wouldn’t be that ever pressing guilt, that shame that colours your vision and tightens around your neck – you might’ve admitted to wanting it.

In another lifetime, you might’ve even begged for it.

Your mind eddies at the sight of him, blood rushing so startlingly through your veins you have to slump back into the sheets, dizzy and daunted. You’re stunned into silence, throat too dry to string together any sounds beyond a strangled whimper.

He’s thick, head an angry, dark colour that you can’t make out in the low light, weeping. As if caught in a dream, you watch a bead of pre-cum slip down his length, the light gleaming over the trail it leaves on his skin. When you raise your eyes, fearful, he’s already watching you, eyes sharp.

The bright green of his irises shocks you back into your body, and you begin to shake your head anew, struggling to push yourself away, back hitting the headboard.

“No, Jason, no.” You begin to weep, hands coming to pound weakly at his chest when he hovers over you once more and he dips his head, nosing along your cheek. Your tears do little to stop him. If anything, it only spurs him on, pupils dilated at the sight of you like this and breathing growing ragged. A rough hand skims along your ankle and pulls, until you’re flat on your back beneath him. “It’s wrong.”

“Don’t cry,” he rumbles, plaintive, lips brushing against yours clumsily, an attempt at comfort. He settles between your legs, one slung over his hip and you mewl when he tilts forward, the weight of his length sliding against your traitorously wet folds. You draw blood trying to stifle a whimper when his head nudges against your clit, a dizzying spiral of unwanted pleasure curling down your spine. His lips curve into a pout against yours, a hair’s breadth between them as he presses his forehead to yours.

“I’ll be good,” he promises quietly, voice pitching into a plea as he ruts against you. You squeeze your eyes tightly, trying to turn your head but a hand comes up to cup your jaw, keeping you face to face with him. “I’ll be good. I’ll–‘ll take care of you. Make you feel good.”

Clumsy, painful, intrusive. You’re wet, but it’s not enough – Jason breaches your entrance and your gasp teeters on a scream, fingernails digging into the meat of his forearm as you struggle to accommodate for his size, not nearly prepared enough for the stretch. His voice joins yours, a different kind of pain in his groans as he pushes slowly in. You curse him, drawing blood where your nails sink into his skin and gasping for breath.

It’s sweltering in the room, despite the chill of winter, Jason’s body a canopy over yours. Every inch of him that presses against you is searing, burning to the touch and threatening to flay you alive. You sob when he finally bottoms out, his teeth gritted and forehead scrunched, the last strands of his control steadily fraying.

Big fingers swipe at your under eyes, smearing your tears instead of wiping them, and then he begins to move. The first thrust winds you, pushing all the air out of your lungs and eliciting a choked sound out of your throat, one he echoes, dropping his head into the hollow of your neck and thrusting again.

Shame and guilt war within you, fear pebbling your skin as his hips cant forwards, setting a sloppy pace meant only to seek a quick release. Every second that ticks past, he draws closer and closer to the edge and shamefully – so do you. There’s a burning in your gut, the sound of your wetness loud in the room over his desperate groans, your cunt squeezing around his thick length. It’s a horrifying truth, one you don’t want to accept – it feels good. The drag of his cock against you, the slippery movements of his fingers, the overwhelming weight of his body against yours. It lights every nerve in your body alight, repulsion and longing amassing as one, a torturous cover that threads through your veins against your will.

Your sobs subside as it comes to you, pleasure pooling slowly in your gut like a leaky faucet, a puddle growing until your cries turn into whimpers, gasped breaths when he manages to find that one spot that empties your head of all thought.

No, no, no turns into muffled whines, your tears carving their own scarred paths down your face. Each thrust, every slide of his length and whisper of his fingers carves a bit of your resistance away, until all that’s left between your desire and his is the ruins of your sensibilities. The last of your defences gone, your nerves feel like spun sugar, dizzying, electrifying – wanting, needing more.

He’s highly attuned to your reactions, and you watch through blurry eyes as his gleam when he makes this realisation, thrusting forward unforgivably and pulling more screams from you. Your head tips back into the pillow, ultraviolet green burned into the back of your eyelids.

“Be good for – for you,” he gasps out, a low whine building in his throat and you weep, arms reaching up to wind around his shoulders. It’s a twisted thing, that the one inflicting this on you should bring you comfort, but you cling to him still. He tucks himself closer to you, eager to provide this cover, allowing you to hide your face in his neck – hide from yourself, as he fucks you. His hands wander, brushing, coaxing, petting your body. No longer are you the caretaker, but now the doll, almost. A pretty thing for him to cradle, to have, to do with as he pleases. And he does, driving into you hungrily, as though he’s been starved of it, unable to hold himself back any longer. He sates his appetite on you tonight, teeth, tongue, cock. All of you, his for the taking. Under his hand you are taken apart and remade, molded by rough hands and lovingly pieced together until you’re born anew, settling into your role like drifting into dreams.

Your orgasm washes over you, abrupt and unrelenting, so far gone a scream tears from your throat to bleed into his, your teeth sinking into the junction of his neck and shoulder as your leg kicks out and you fall apart on his length. Sloppy thrusts pick up the pace and he presses you further down into the sheets, grasp on your hips and waist bruising. It’s animal, the way he bucks into you, mouth open in a snarl to bare sharp canines, tongue laving against your pulse.

Too much – it’s too much. You’re still riding out the high of your orgasm, but he continues to fuck into you, head bumping against one particular spot that has your toes curling painfully, body twisting in his grasp and trying to pull away. A vain effort. Even your squealed protests fall on deaf ears, dizzying pleasure bubbling up once more in your gut, overwhelming and feverish.

Your eyes squeeze shut tight as you come again, colour exploding in your vision in vivid hues of red and orange, mouth dropping open to swallow lungfuls of air. Jason, in your ear, lets out a guttural moan that lances straight through his chest to spear yours. Warmth trickles down your body, spend and slick smeared where the two of you are connected.

You swim in and out of focus, eyelids heavy and attention spotty. Like an old radio, or as if underwater, his voice breaches your consciousness in snippets. Soft cooing and fingers stroking along your spine, you’re vaguely aware of being shifted, hefted onto a warm chest as easily as lifting a feather. Downy hairs tickle your cheek, the smell of musk and cedarwood burning beneath your nose.

Mine...so good...take care of...

There’s an ache between your hips, a fullness that has yet to retract – but when you blink drowsily up at your captor, you begin to realise in the last dregs of your consciousness: in this, and all that follows after, he has no intention of parting from you.

Cobalt blue now, half lidded eyes regard you with reverence, kiss bitten lips cooing unintelligibly, praises you barely register. Jason cranes his head to press his mouth against your temple – a mockery of your rituals to you, perhaps an homage, in his twisted mind.

The mark on his neck smarts, the beast in his chest purring in satisfaction. He looks down at you, the drying tears on your face, lashes fluttering in your sleep. He strokes a finger over the crease between your brows, dragging down to where your lips part ever so slightly. He barely manages to hold back a satisfied rumble when, at the touch of his finger, you accept him in. Precious, sweet girl. Even in sleep, you know him. He shifts on his back, careful not to jostle you too much, and once more the bite stings. In the morning, you’ll insist on tending to it, he knows. Your eyes will pool, diamantine, lips trembling tearfully at the wound you’ve left on him. You’ve claimed him as he would you, in time, but he knows it’ll take a little longer for you to see it as he does, that in the morning you’ll begin to piece back the ruins of your defences and he’ll have to work again to keep them down.

That’s okay. He’s got all the time in the world. You’ll see, soon. Out here, with only each other for company, you’ll quickly learn. He’ll take care of you.

You’ll want for nothing.

fin.

um. there's a lot i wanted to include in this fic, mostly that there's something off about jason's death and his being alive - i didn't really get to explore that beyond the eyes so if you caught that i hope u know i meant for it to convey that he's a Freak.

Brahms in The Boy is entirely human but i think there's an air of supernaturalism to jason in this (and even arguably in the original source material) with how such a large man manages to move through the walls quietly and quickly, he feels a bit wraith like to me. also again with the eyes - there's something wrong with him but there's literally like 294728 other things to worry about that you don't notice until it's staring at you in the face and by then it's too late.

anyway this came to me during finals and it was driving me SO damn insane during finals, i think i've been working on this for about a month? i'm not sure - the writing program i've been using lately doesn't have a date of creation so i don't really know but finals were in early june so maybe just shy of two months? i would say a month and a half.

this is the first time i've properly dipped my toe into content of a darker nature like this and i hope i did it justice! idk i wanted to try my hand at something new, i think there's a lot that's interesting about the psychological aspect of fics like this, like the buildup and feelings leading up to and during the climax. anyway this was a bit of an experiment and i hope you enjoyed it.

#divider by anitalenia #jay my heart #jasonsmirrorball #tw dubcon #cw dubcon #tw noncon #cw noncon #<- putting the noncon tags to be safe !!#jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #x reader

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totalswag · 5 months ago

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Hi you! I was thinking about actress!y/n is in a ceremony and Drew is filming of obx s4, they're both so busy in their film industry, that they miss each other terribly that they kept contacting in messages and calls,

(especially him, who is very proud of her, who would like to be by her side even if she tells him to keep working on the set of obx, that she wouldn't want to disturb him. Like they both put up with each other so much they love each other)

that they haven't had time to talk to each other much, they want to meet up face to face again for once, so she decides to visit him as a little surprise to see him again in Charleston

surprise visit on set — DREW STARKEY

authors note thank for the request lovie! i have a few requests that i will work on or currently working on. all the love you guys have been showing me lately is absolutely amazing, i couldn't thank you lovies anymore. halfway to 1k too!!!

summary surprising drew on set after months of not seeing each other.

warnings cuteness thats all

masterlist

Being in a relationship where you both act and are continuously busy filming is difficult, but there is always time and space to see one other when you take a break from filming.

Drew and you began dating in 2021, after he completed season two of his show, Outer Banks. You met through mutual friends at a gathering and hit it off right away.

Outer Banks season four is presently in production, which means Drew is in Charleston filming. It's been about two months since you last saw each other, and you miss each other a lot.

You were on the red carpet on the premiere of your new movie. As you went through the crowd, cameras flashed and captured every moment. In the back of your head, you couldn't stop thinking about Drew and how much you miss him.

A young woman called your name where interviews stood infront of cameras waiting for you and your cast mates to interact. You smile with a kind wave, walking over.

“Miss, Y/N, "I must say you look absolutely stunning tonight in this dress you're wearing," she says, praising you from top to bottom.

"Thank you so much; it means a lot to me, and I'm glad I chose to wear this dress tonight," you giggle, smoothing your hands over your sides.

The interviewer asks you a few questions on both the film and your character. You were grateful to be asked these questions because you had worked so hard on set.

"Before we part ways, noticed your boyfriend, Drew Starkey, is filming season four for Outer Banks. How is that going, do you know?" She asks politely.

"We haven't seen each other in a while, but we text every day," you place the front strands behind your ear, "he said everything is going well on set and he can't wait for fans to see," you explain, smiling before saying goodbye.

You just hopped on a plane to Charleston to surprise Drew. You secretly organized this trip because you miss Drew and want to spend time with him. You can't wait to be in his arms again.

With all of your free time, you decided to pay Drew a visit and meet the rest of the cast, whom you consider friends as well.

When the plane landed, you walked down the stairs to find Maddie, Madison, and Carlacia waiting for you beside the car, holding two posters designed specifically for you. You took out your phone and started recording them as you came closer.

"Finally back with my hot bitches," you exclaim, extending your arms for a group hug.

"How long has it been since we saw you last?" Madison asks, "I don't know, but it's been too long," and then grabs your suitcase and places it in the trunk with your other belongings.

Everyone knows about you coming except for Drew. The look on his face will be priceless and unforgettable. Knowing you, you might cry.

A few hours go by, you left early with the girls to set since they are filming their scenes first. You were able to hid in Drew's trailer on the couch in the corner where he won't see you when he enters.

Drew's reaction was clearly visible on your phone. Hearing his voice get closer filled your tummy with butterflies. Taking a deep breath as you heard the doorknob turn.

"What time do you want me to get back on set again?" You hear him say this while the door is still open and you have no view of him.

"Okay, that sounds good; I'm going to take a quick nap," he says before entering his trailer.

His figure enters the trailer and turns right, with his back to you. When he turns around, all he sees is the love of his life in the corner, wearing the most beautiful smile that makes him fall harder each time. He can't believe you're standing in front of him now.

"Please tell me I'm dreaming right now and you're a vision," Drew blurts out, placing both hands over his head to digest what's going on in his mind.

"Don't think I'm a vision baby," you giggle, getting off the couch, "so are you gonna give me a kiss or stand there handsome?" You make amusing gestures.

"Oh I'ma kiss you alright," he quickly responds, taking you in his arms, lifting you up with his arms; you wrap your legs around his waist.

You two remain like this for a full minute, taking up the sensation of being together. You place kisses all over Drew's face, making him giggle.

"I've missed you so much; seeing you now and seeing your beautiful face in person makes me so happy. Drew expresses himself meaningfully: "I fucking love you so much baby."

The tears come down your face, Drew's quickly to wipe them.

"I can't explain the emotions I'm feeling right now, but to sum it up, being in your arms again, hearing your voice, touching you, makes me want to not leave you."

Drew helped you get to your feet and led you to the couch. You inform him you have a surprise trip planned; he assumed you wouldn't see each other until next month. Drew gave you an update on how filming has gone, etc.

The past four days has been wonderful. You went onto set, met up with the crew and cast, beach, shopping, drinking, went out to dinner, etc.

Talked about the movie premiere and how your movie turned out after you watched it.

It's a lovely night in Charleston. The sun had just set, which was breathtaking from the view at dinner. Drew and you were strolling out of a restaurant holding hands, laughing at each other's jokes.

"Oh my gosh is that Y/N and Drew?" A faint voice from across the street causes you both to turn your heads at the same time, filled with curiosity.

"I suppose I am dreaming right now. I love you two so much and you've helped me so much, I can't thank you enough," the young girl confesses, struggling to fight back tears, "my name is Skylar."

Your heart warmed at Skylar's sweet comments. You and Drew instantly drew her into a group hug. Skylar wept with happiness.

"Thank you for your love and support. We're both glad we could support you through your difficult periods in life, and we hope you'll keep fighting. Would you want a picture? Drew speaks with genuine sincerity, holding her hand and maintaining her composure.

After talking for a time, you took a few photos with Skyalr before going your separate ways. More fans have approached you two since your arrival. It's always good to meet supporters.

"How about we grab ourselves snacks from the gas station for a movie night and cuddle all night then possibly have a little fun" Drew implies with a hint a flirtatious about the having fun part.

You let a yelp when he squeezed your sides, leaning back against his body.

"Doesn't sound like a bad idea to me" you shrug, smiling.

Drew sighs and wraps his arms around your neck, "I'm glad you took the time to come here. I missed you so much and am finally able to be with you. I'm extremely proud of all of your hard work and your new movie. "I love you, baby."

"I love you more my sweet boy, best thing that's ever happen to me."

my taglist!

✰ if you would like to be added to my taglist and be notified whenever i post please let me know in the comments or in my ask box. if there's a line across your name that means i couldn't find your account.

@winterrrnight @chenslucy @rosezza @solanathascientst @diqldrunks @runningfrom2am

#drew starkey/rafe cameron 🍒#drew starkey #drew starkey fanfic #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey imagines #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey smut #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey x oc #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x actress!reader

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strniohoeee · 1 year ago

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I have a question for a Matt fic if you can’t do it that’s fine, Could you possibly do a matt version of vie (I think that’s it idk) if you want to and can 😁🫶🏻

-anonymous out for now

Foe

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N absolutely hates Matt with a burning passion. Nick and Chris get fed up with them after hearing them argue on their road trip. What happens when he locks them in a hotel room together??🗣️

Warnings⚠️: SMUTTTTT. Nothing too crazy though. This is also for another request I got for enemies to lovers with Matt where they travel far and stop in different hotels and have to stay together LOL. Also I was half asleep writing this, so I hope yall enjoy🤭

Song for the imagine: Back to the Old House-The Smiths

⚠️This is an 18+ imagine, so minors do not interact, or do??⚠️

And you never knew

How much I really liked you

Cause I never even told you

Oh, but I meant to

Are you still there?

I felt my eye twitching, my head spinning and my jaw hurting from the fake smile I had plastered on my face.

“A road trip…how fun” I said through my teeth looking at Nick

“I figured since we have this whole month why not just drive through a couple of states you know” he said

“And you want me to come?” I asked furrowing my brows

“Yes we do” Chris said

“Not me” Matt shot out

I looked over at Matt giving him a death stare and rolling my eyes.

“I mean I’m happy staying here you know. Why don’t you guys go as brothers and enjoy this time for yourselves” I said looking back at Nick

“We really want you to come though like badly, and you can split the driving with Matt since we can’t drive for shit” he said pointing between him and Chris

“Ughhh fine I’ll go” I said throwing myself back on the bed

“Trust me we’d be fine without you” Matt said smacking my head

“Fuck off” I said slapping his hand away

“Matt literally shut the fuck up” Nick said

A few days had passed and it was now time to venture out to some random states. I wasn’t even sure what to pack, but all I know is I had a huge suitcase and a duffel bag. I mean you can’t be too sure right?

I had driven to the triplets house since we were taking their bigger car. When I pulled up Matt was packing some stuff into the trunk while Chris and Nick walked back into the house

I parked my car and got out grabbing my suitcase and my duffel bag

“The fuck did you pack for?” Matt said looking over his shoulder

“A fucking road trip are you an idiot?” I said placing my duffel bag on my suitcase

“You’re acting like you’re moving or some shit” he said laughing

“I like to have options since I actually have a sense of style unlike you, so buzz off” I said rolling my eyes at him

“Packed for a fucking runway show or some shit” he said

I pushed him out the way to look at the trunk

“Matt what the fuck is this?” I said looking at him

“Uhh looks like suitcases and bags to me” he said shrugging his shoulder

“No shit smart ass. You packed this car horribly. Let me fix it” I said

“Knock yourself out” he said

I had removed some suitcases and bags, and I got to a larger bag in the back of the trunk. Sliding it forward

“Okay princess hold this” I said looking over at Matt

“Fuck you….calling me princess” he said rolling his eyes

“Well you watched me undo all this without offering a hand, so yes you are a princess, now hold this please” I said trying to give him the heavy duffel bag

“No im good” he said smiling at me and crossing his arms over his chest

I looked at him blinking, and I lifted the bag up, throwing it over my shoulders, and letting it crash to the concrete pavement.

“Suit yourself then” I said shrugging my shoulders

“ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY” Matt yelled leaning off of the car and walking over to the bag

“Aww it must’ve slipped” I said grabbing my duffel bag off of my suitcase, and rolling my suitcase

“You’re a bitch” he said opening the bag that I’m assuming was his and looking inside of it

I rolled my suitcase past him and lifted my duffel bag up to put it over my shoulder letting it hit Matt in the head.

“So I’ve been told” I said laughing at him

“This has filming equipment in it, my equipment to be exact. You’re lucky it didn’t break” he said standing up

“I’m actually pretty sad it didn’t break” I said frowning

Matt scoffed at me and walked into the house. Leaving me alone to finish packing the trunk up correctly. Soon they all came back out, and got ready to get in the car

Matt shoved past me to get in on the drivers side. I lost my footing and gave him a dirty look

“I hate you” I said to him

“Feelings mutual don’t worry” he said smiling at me

“Can you guys just not fight for once. I have not spent a single day with you guys in two years where there was no fighting going on” Nick said

“I try my best, but he really knows how to get under my skin” I said

“Tell me about it, but please I can’t handle a road trip with Matt in a pissg mood” Chris said

“Okay okay I’ll be nice” I said throwing my hands up in defense

Chris sat in the passenger seat, I sat behind Matt and Nick sat behind Chris. It was a pretty decent car ride for the most part. We were driving north at first.

Occasionally I’d look into the rear view mirror sometimes catching Matt’s eyes. But always looking away. But we kept locking eyes accidentally

“Stop looking at me like a creep” Matt said

“I’m not trying to look at you. Everytime I look up you happen to also be looking” I said getting annoyed

“Uhh yeah it’s the rear view mirror, I have to see what’s happening behind me on the road” he said shaking his head

“Literally shut up before I lose it” I said sighing

“Whatever..” he said rolling his eyes at me

We had been through three states already. We fought the whole time driving, we fought at every stop, we fought for every meal. Chris and Nick were growing frustrated. I think Matt and I didn’t even enjoy our stay in these states because we spent the whole time arguing.

In these three states Chris and Nick forced us to stay in a hotel room together. This was the worst idea in the world because this made us fight more.

The first hotel we stood in, Matt kept turning the light on every five minutes to piss me off, and then he talked the whole night. The second hotel we stayed at, Matt threw ice cold water on me the morning we were heading out while I was showering. The third state we got to there was only one sink, and Matt and I woke up late, so we were rushing. First he took an extra long shower using the hot water, so my shower was cold. Then we had to brush our teeth at the same time.

I leaned over to spit into the sink when suddenly I felt Matt hovering over me. He spat his toothpaste in my hair. My jaw dropped and I let a gasp out

“You did not” I said looking up at him

“Whoops must’ve slipped” he said shrugging his shoulders

I had no time to wash my hair so I had to wipe my hair with a wet towel, and hope for the best. I shoved past Matt packing my stuff up, and ignoring him as I made my way down to the lobby.

This incident was the icing on the cake. I was so angry. I wasn’t the nicest to Matt, but spitting toothpaste in my hair was a low fucking blow.

As we got in the car and headed to get breakfast Chris opened his mouth

“It smells like toothpaste” he said laughing

“Yeah thank your idiot brother” I said with a straight face

“What’d he do?” Chris asked turning back to look at me

“He fucking spat toothpaste in my hair, and I had no time to shampoo it out” I said rolling my neck

“Matt what the fuck” Nick said getting annoyed

“It was an accident” he said pouting

“To hell with you you fucking asshole” I said loudly

“You can throw my bag and hit me in the head, but this was too much?” He said laughing

“Toothpaste from your mouth? Yeah you crossed a line you stupid fuck” I said putting my hand in between the space of the head rest and the chair, and pulled his little neck hairs

“OUCH WHAT THE FUCK” he screamed grabbing the back of his neck

“Awww it was an accident” I said pouting at him

“Bringing you with us was the biggest mistake” he said

“Yeah I think so too” I said crossing my arms over my shoulders

The whole ride went like that. Every restaurant we stopped at and every gas station. Chris and Nick even snapped at us a few times because we were stressing them out.

We stayed at a hotel in the fourth state, and I was hoping us arguing all day would make Nick split us up, but I thought wrong.

“You and Matt are staying together, and Chris and I are keeping your room keys, so if you leave…you’re shit out of luck we’re not helping you” Nick said shrugging his shoulders

“WHAT” we both screeched out

“This arguing is so fucking annoying. We are supposed to be having a good time, and instead we’re miserable. Yall need to talk out your issues because I can’t do this anymore” Nick said to us

“Yeah like I’m exhausted and annoyed with you both bickering like children. I wanted this month break to be nice and fun, but it’s not…please figure this shit out” Chris said rubbing his eyes

We both nodded our heads in defeat, and Nick unlocked our door letting us in, and watching as the door shut in his face.

We locked the door and turned the lights on. Our jaws dropped at the site. One fucking bed….

“They’re fucking with us, they have to be” Matt said scoffing

“Yeah no shit dumbass…they want us to be as uncomfortable as possible, and talk about our issues” I said placing my duffel bag down

“Okay fucking mystery P.I” Matt said laughing

“I’m going to shower and get this toothpaste out of my hair, so behave for like 30 minutes” I said to him

I got in the shower and enjoyed my alone time. It was so peaceful to be alone with your thoughts. I mean I hated fighting with Matt all the time. I wasn’t even sure why I fought with him all the time. It’s just everytime I would see his face it made me so angry. If it wasn’t for his shitty attitude Matt was actually an attractive guy. Beautiful on the outside and ugly on the inside. At least from what I saw….

I ignored Matt as I finished my routine and he went to shower. I laid in the bed after drying my hair and just stared at the ceiling. All that I could see was flashes of Matt’s face. It made me angry. The one person I hate the most and that’s all my brain is clouded with.

Matt got out of the shower and sat on the edge of the bed scrolling on his phone. I was staring into the back of his head just thinking. Mainly mean things, but one other thing….his hair looked so good right now. WHAT THE FUCK NO!

It was 2AM at this point, and Matt shut the main light off keeping the lamp on. I grabbed a pillow and a blanket it laid on the floor

“What are you doing” he said looking at me

“Throwing a party…Matt I’m going to sleep” I said rolling my eyes at him

“Yeah, but why on the floor” he said laughing

“Because I’m not sleeping next to you” I said scoffing

“You act like I bite” he said giving me a dirty look

“You might as well with those teeth of yours, so damn big” I said laughing

Matt let out a giggle and looked away. Did I just make him laugh? My eyebrow raised as I looked at him

“Just get in the bed” he said looking at me

“I’m good” I said laying down and turning away from him

Matt scoffed and shut the light off. My mind started racing. His little laugh was so cute, and the way he looked down at me to lay in the bed with him….idk why I started to smile this was weird.

“This feels wrong” Matt saddened blurted out making my heart jump from being scared

“What” I said confused

“You sleeping on the floor like just get up, and sleep next to me” he said

“No” I said

“Stop being so stubborn already” he said smacking his hands down on the bed sheets

“Fine okay” I said getting up

I made my way over to the bed and laid down. Matt was facing me as I looked up at the ceiling. My breathing became shallow as I felt his eyes on me.

“Please stop looking at me” I said in a whisper

“Sorry” he said back

I let a slight smile fall on my face, and I guess he saw it with the little bit of moonlight coming in through the window

“You look very pretty when you smile, you should do it more often” he said

“Well stop pissing me off everyday and I’d have more to smile about” I said

“Are you flirting with me?” He asked laughing

“In your dreams Matthew” I said laughing lightly

“Oh in my dreams indeed” he said

“You’re such a strange person” I said rubbing my eyes

“Is that why you hate me?” He asked

“I don’t hate you. I hate the way you act. You know how to make me angry” I replied

“I mean I don’t mean to be that way, but to see how easily you get upset it makes me smile” he said laughing a bit

“I’m glad my anger brings you joy” I said shaking my head

“It’s cute” he responded

“I must be mistaken…is Matt flirting with me?” I asked

“Oh no I would never” he said laying on his back now

“Right right” I said shrugging my shoulders

The room got silent…painfully silent. I’m sure you could hear my heart beating out of my chest. My breathing became heavier. Why was there such weird tension now?

I mindlessly started to lightly hum a song trying to coo myself to sleep?? I don’t know..

“What’s that? I’ve heard you hum that song before” Matt said

“Oh it’s Back to the Old House by The Smiths” I said

“I’ve been trying to figure out that song for the longest every time you hum it” he said in a whisper

“Oh yeah” I said also in a whisper

Matt’s hand came down near mine, and I felt his pinky graze against my skin. My breathing hitched in my throat as I glanced down at his movement.

“I love The Smiths” I said in a low whisper

“What was that?” He asked his pinky now completely rubbing up and down my hand

“I said… I love The Smiths” I responded looking over at him. To see him already looking back.

Suddenly Matt’s lips crashed into mine. Throwing me for a fucking loop because what the fuck was this?

But my lips moved with his as he leaned up and over. Slowly making his way to hover above me. My hands immediately rubbing through his hair

Our lips locked in such a heated and passionate kiss. Who would’ve thought I needed a kiss from Matt so badly. My body ached for him, and I slowly hated that. I was supposed to hate him what's going on…

“Wait wait wait” I said pushing Matt back

“What’s wrong?” He asked looking at me

“I mean nothings wrong. It’s just….we’re supposed to hate each other” I said

“Who says enemies can’t kiss?” He asked

“Fuck it” I said pulling him back down for another heated make out session.

Matt’s dick slowly pressed against my cunt as my legs stayed spread for him. My heart fluttered at the feeling as I pulled Matt down more to allow our chests to touch.

Matt began to kiss down my neck as my nails scratched his scalp. This was so wrong yet felt so right. I had complete control in my hands. And I wanted this to go further than some kissing. I so desperately wanted Matt right now.

“I don’t want you to feel forced to do anything” Matt said looking at me as he kissed up my neck

“Trust me if I felt forced I would’ve kneed you in the balls” I said, and he laughed against my skin causing me to get goosebumps

Matt and I continued to kiss until his hands ran up my shirt and slowly began to take it off. Lifting off the bed for him to get it off my head

He pulled away and removed his shirt as well. Leaning back down as our bare chests touched causing me to let out a whimper

He kissed down my neck and down my chest as he left open mouth kisses on my breasts. He kissed down my stomach and to where my pajama bottoms sat

He came back up running his right hand over my breasts as he kissed my neck.

“I need more” I moaned out

“Okay” he said in a whisper

Matt pulled away and helped me slide out of my pajama bottoms. He slowly slid his pants off.

He ran his hands over my cloth pussy as I shuddered. He removed his boxers and slid my underwear to the side. Slowly he slid into me allowing myself to adjust to the burn from the stretch.

God Matt felt so good. I was already in heaven and he hasn’t even fucked me yet.

“Are you ready?” He asked me as he bottomed out

“Yes” I panted out as my back arched

“I’m going to go slow okay” he said

“Okay Matt” I said licking my dry lips

Matt began to thrust in and out of me at a slow pace. Truly allowing me to feel all of him. My hands gripped the sheets beneath me as my toes curled.

Matt was filling me up so well. I swore my eyes were in the back of my head. His thrusts slow but deep and harder really stretching me out

“You can go faster” I moaned out

Matt leaned forward and brought my left leg to wrap around his torso as he began to pound into me.

“Fuck Y/N, you feel amazing” he panted out into my ear

His necklace tapping against my collar bone with every thrust. As my hands began to rake up and down his back

“Shit Matt….holy fuck just like that” I moaned out

His hips snapping into me at a faster pace. The bed creaked and lightly tapped against the wall. We really hoped Nick and Chris were asleep because this would make for a awkward experience tomorrow

“You’re taking me so well. I thought you hated me” he moaned out

Pounding into me deeper causing a loud whine to escape my lips

“I might’ve hated you before, but you’re fucking me so good I might fall in love” I moaned out throwing my head back

“Love so soon?” He moaned out as he hit my g spot

“Eventually” I panted out

“Yeah I want to fuck you a few more times before you decide on that” he said as his thrusts became sloppy

“I’d like that very much” I moaned out

“I know you would, fuck” he moaned out

My mouth hung open as his lips ghosted against them. My brows furrowed as I began my orgasm slowly approaching.

My heel of my foot for a fact digging into his back as my body quivered and shook for him

“Matt I’m so close” I moaned out as my hips lifted off the bed

“Hold on baby hold on” he said

Snaking his hand in between us he began to rub my clit causing me to let out a high pitch whine.

He began to run faster as my breathing got heavier. My mouth fell slack as his hips smacked into me.

My stomach coiling and my thighs shaking

“Fuckkkk I’m cumming” I moaned out as my legs began to shake and my back lifted off of the mattress. Clenching around Matt as his name fell from my lips in a loud moan.

He helped me ride out my high and slowly pulled out of me as I laid there. He began to stroke his dick chasing his own high

His breathing became heavy as his lower stomach contracted and he painted my thighs with his cum. His mouth slack and eyes staring down at me as he moaned out my name.

Once he came down from his high he helped clean us up. And he got back in bed. It got quiet again and my thoughts started racing

“I don’t hate you. I never did” Matt suddenly blurted out

“Oh” was all I could say

“Watching you get mad over small things made me laugh, and I felt like it was our own little way of flirting” he said

“I mean at times it was” I said looking at him

“And other times I went over the line” he said shaking his head

“Yeah you did, but that’s okay. Look where it landed us fucking in a hotel room” I said laughing

“I suppose that’s true” he said laughing

“It’s just easier to dislike someone than to actually like them, and I’m so mad I can’t hate you” I replied

“Oh the feelings mutual babe” he said licking his bottom lip

I laughed and shoved his shoulder

Matt pulled me in, and we eventually fell asleep in each other's arms after having much needed conversations.

The next morning when we woke up. We showered and packed up. It wasn’t even awkward and we actually enjoyed our morning together. We even walked down to the lobby together which never happened.

“You guys seem happy” Chris said

“Did you hash things out?” Nick asked

“We did, and it was all one big misunderstanding” Matt said looking at them

“Yeah it was. However the one bed was a dick move” I said looking at Nick

“Oh one bed? That’s so weird I didn’t even know that” he said

“You didn’t?” We both said

“No, it must’ve been an accident” he said shrugging his shoulders

“Well I’m glad it worked out that way anyways” I said shrugging my shoulders

“Yeah! Plus it seemed to work you guys are getting along great” Nick said

“Oh yeah you know. Just a good ol conversation to make it all better” Matt said

“I’m so glad you guys are okay now” Chris said getting excited

“We are too! So now let’s actually go have some fun like we’ve been planning to!” I said loudly

We finished our road trip, and I was so thankful for Nick and Chris putting us together. Who would’ve known how badly I needed Matt, and I finally got him. It only took two years…

The End

Mannnn idk how I feel about this, but also I was like half awake writing this it’s bad LMAOOO. I hope you guys enjoyed and I love yall dearly🥹🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

#matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplet smut #matthew sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader smut #smut #Matthew sturniolo x reader smut

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pucked-bunnie · 5 months ago

Text

shocks and surprises⎜e.pettersson

pairings: elias pettersson x reader ⎜ft platonic quinn x reader prompt: "just tell me what you want from me." genre: romance ⎜fluff warnings: unexpected pregnancy ⎜ stressed reader ⎜ supportive elias⎜descriptions of mild panic attacks ⎜ synopsis: you can't help but be proud when elias gets invited to all star weekend - a little surprise puts a small spanner in the works word count: 2.6k authors note: I already had this little Elias story planned but a prompt request I got fit in perfectly so i merged the two - it's short and sweet so I hope you all enjoy!

(unedited)

“Mother fucker.” The swear words slip out as you stare down at the plastic stick in your hand - the two bright red lines staring you in the face.

“Everything okay in there?” Elias’s voice carries through the closed bathroom door, the wood creaking as he leans his weight against it. “We have to get going if we’re going to make it to the airport in time.” He says softly, as you take a deep breath, staring down at the test one more time before throwing it into the bin next to you - standing to flush the toilet and wash your hands.

“Baby, are you sure you’re okay? You do look a little pale.” Elias asks as he lifts his hand to press against your forehead, frowning before he drops it back to his side. “You feel a little warm.”

“I’m okay, Elias.” You reassure him, a small smile stretching on your face as you move past him to grab your bags from beside the bed. “Just have a bit of a tummy ache is all.” You explain, your boyfriend understanding your explanation with a tight nod, before grabbing his own suitcase off the floor, motioning for you to lead the way out of your apartment.

You don’t know why your first reaction is to pretend that nothing was wrong.

To pretend like those little red lines had never happened.

But this weekend was supposed to be about him.

Elias keeps his hand on your thigh the whole Uber ride to the airport, his fingers tapping gently against the fabric of your pants, the both of you looking out your respective windows, your brain spinning a hundred miles an hour as you glance over at your boyfriend.

You had met Elias through his teammate Quinn - you and Quinn had known each other for years, meeting back in high school and becoming fast friends. In his second year in the NHL Quinn had invited you to come watch one of his games, wanting to catch up when he found out you were moving to Vancouver for work - and it was in a small bar near his shared apartment you had met the quiet swede, Elias being Quinn’s roommate and deciding to join the two of you for dinner after their game.

Though your first few interactions left you confused about whether the stoic man actually enjoyed your company, it was the constant appearance of Elias whenever you were close by that helped you feel that maybe the tall hockey player did feel something towards you.

As your Uber pulled up to the airport, Elias thanked him as the driver rounded the car to help you pull your luggage from the trunk, wishing the two of you well on your flight before pulling away from the curb. Elias watched you as you tugged your suitcase behind you, your eyes trained on the ground in front of you and your hand tight on the handle of your bag as the two of you made your way to the private boarding lounge with his teammate already waiting.

He knew something was wrong from the moment you rushed to the bathroom after getting off the phone with your sister, your eyes wide and panicked as he followed after you. His concerns were confirmed when you slammed the door closed behind you, twisting the lock on the handle leaving him sitting at the end of your bed waiting for you to finish.

“You made it.” Quinn’s voice snaps Elias’s gaze off you, one side of his mouth tilting as he nods his head in greeting to his fellow teammates, clapping his hand against Quinn’s outstretched one.

“Only just.” Elias says jokingly, pulling away from his friend, watching as Quinn sweeps you up in a tight hug, the first genuine smile Elias had seen on your face all day, making his stomach flip like it always did when you smiled.

It was his favourite thing to look at.

“Looking as wonderful as always.” Quinn comments as he sets you back on the ground, his hands rubbing on your shoulder as he takes you in, despite seeing you less then two weeks ago. “Work must be keeping you busy, we haven’t seen you in ages.” He adds and you just nod, your mouth feeling dry.

“She’s not feeling too good today.” Elias says as he slides up besides you - his arm sliding around your waist as he tugs you against his side, his warmth forcing your body to relax a little bit. Quinn shoots you a sympathetic smile as he turns to grab his bags when your flight attendant comes to gather you all for the private flight.

“Let me take this.” Elias whispers as you reach for your suitcase, his hand grabbing hold of the handle first as he presses a gentle kiss against your cheek before moving forwards with both your suitcases in hand. Elias reaches out for you again as he hands your luggage off to the baggage workers standing besides the plane as you make your way onto the tarmac, his hand gripping your tightly as he leads you up the steps behind him, the two of you quickly finding a set of available seats before settling into the comfortable leather.

The group let out an excited yell as the flight attendant makes her rounds with glasses of champagne - each of them swiping a glass as they wait for the pilot to prepare for take off. “Ma’am would you like a glass?” The attendant as she reaches your seats, already placing the glass in front of you before you get a chance to answer.

You can feel your heart drop as you look at the sparkling glass in front of you.

Your stomach turns as you feel nausea rise in your throat.

Your breathing quickening as your eyes glaze over, watering just slightly as the heaviness in your belly.

You know you’re overreacting but the sight of the alcohol in front of you is a reminder of the secret you aren’t quite ready to share - a short panic quickly interrupted by the sound of your boyfriend talking.

“Would you mind switching this for a glass of apple juice?” Elias asks the attendant softly as she makes her way back down the aisle, his hand swiping the alcohol off the table in front of you as he hands it back to her. She nods quickly, taking the full glass down to the back of the plane swiftly, returning with a similar glass with a much less bubbly beverage. Elias nods his thanks to her as he places the glass back down in front of you without a word.

“You know you can tell me if something is wrong, right?” Elias speaks so softly you can barely hear him over the chatter of his teammates and their families. His hand finds its normal place on your thigh, his finger rubbing softly, reassuringly against your leg as you nod your head, your words still stuck in your throat, as the pilot announces over the intercom that the flight is ready for take off.

Despite being a very quiet person, Elias has always been incredibly physical. He always needed some part of him to be touching some part of you to be content - his hand commonly finding purchase on your thigh or on the small of your back, but his favourite was when your two hands would clasp around one of his, squeezing tightly.

The flight from Vancouver to Toronto took around four and a half hours - most of the excitement had worn off after about an hour, everyone settling into their seats and the cabin lights dimming slightly as everyone relaxed.

Elias’s gaze is trained on you, your eyes closed, head leaning gently against his arm and both of your hands wrapped around his, his oversized hoodie thrown on to fight the cold of winter.

“She’s been quieter than usual.” Quinn comments, as he stops his walk down the aisle of the plane watching Elias watch you.

“Somethings wrong, but she isn’t ready to tell me yet.” Elias says to his captain, his free hand reaching over to move some loose hair out of your face, your nose wrinkling at the small tickle on the side of your face. “I’m just worried she’s holding it all in, it’s gotta come out eventually.” He adds, Quinn nodding at his teammates words.

“She’ll tell you, she probably just needs time.” Elias finally moves his gaze of you to glance over to his friends, a thankful expression on his face, as Quinn claps him on the shoulder before moving back towards his seat.

Elias doesn’t sleep the whole flight - one hand scrolling through his phone the other still trapped in between yours as the flight attendant announces that landing would begin shortly. Elias tucks his phone into his jumper pocket, before reaching his now empty hand to gently cup your face, his thumb rubbing soft circles on your cheek.

“Baby? We’re about to land.” He whispers quietly, your eyebrows furrowing in a frown as you let out a soft groan. “You need to wake up, princess.” He says again, chuckling as one of your hands releases his to swat away his hand on your face.

“I’m awake.” You huff as you swat at his hand again, pulling your face out of his reach, letting go of his hand to rub at your eyes - the lights in the cabin turning back on as the plane makes its descent.

“Sleep well?” He questions softly, your head nodding as you pout. Elias’s face lights up with a fond smile as he adds, “You can sleep more at the hotel, the event doesn’t begin until tomorrow.”

As the plane hits the tarmac, you pick up your phone from your lap, turning off airplane mode - the screen lighting up with missed messages.

‘So…what did the test say?’ The message from your sister, puts a new frown on your face, tucking your phone quickly into the hoodies pocket before Elias can get a glimpse at the message.

‘It’s okay if it’s positive and it’s okay if it’s negative.’

‘Have you and Elias talked about this yet?’

‘You’re probably flying now, but call me if you need anything.’

The messages continue pinging from your phone, Elias raising a brow as he glances down at the device in your pocket. “Are you gonna answer those?” You just shake your head, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth as your eyes start to water.

Not again.

Everything is blurred by the rushing of your minds, Elias’s hand in yours the only thing keeping your body moving as you try to focus on breathing slowly - the voices around you sounding muffled as Elias wraps his arms around your shoulder, pulling you against him tightly.

“We’re gonna go straight to the hotel, she's feeling pretty bad.” You hear your boyfriend explain to your friends as he grabs your luggage rushing you off the tarmac and into the first taxi that stops.

The ride to the hotel is silent, your hands clasped together, your gaze not leaving the floor - Elias watches your closely as he takes the lead, checking the two of you in quickly, guiding you up into the hotel room without a hitch, leaving the suitcases by the door as he follows you into your hotel room, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Elias asks as he watches you wander around the room, your teeth nibbling on the side of your thumb, a nervous habit Elias hadn’t seen in a while.

“Huh?” You ask, your head snapping up and your arms dropping to your sides - your gaze flicking around the hotel room in confusion before focusing back on your boyfriend.

He looks tired - is all you can think as you take him in - a lump getting caught in your throat.

“I can’t help you, if you don’t tell me what’s going on.” He explains, his hands reaching out for yours, pulling you to stand between his legs as he looks up at you. “What is going on?” He asks again, expecting the way you let out a choked sob.

He was expecting the way the tears slipped down your cheeks.

He was definitely expecting the way you try to stop crying almost immediately, feeling ashamed at showing your overwhelming emotions.

“It’s okay to be upset” He says softly, reaching up to gently swipe the tears off your face, “But I want to understand why you’re so upset.” Your tears fall harder at the soft expression on his face.

The words still seem impossible to get out.

“Baby, I need you to be super honest with me.” He starts when he realizes you aren’t managing to speak yet, your panic still in control. “Are you pregnant?”

Everything stops.

The tears, the gasping for air, the constant whirring in your head.

“What?” You can’t help but ask, confused as to how Elias had figured it out so quickly.

“I saw the test box in the garbage bin before we left - and you haven’t had your period in two months.” He explains, his hands smoothing up and down your arms as he speaks.

“How do you even know that?” Your voice is a whisper, a soft smile blooming on Elias’s face as you finally manage to speak.

“I have a tracker on my phone - I just wanna make sure I know when to make you comfortable.” He says gently.

He pauses for a moment, watching you suck in deep gulps of air before asking again, “are you pregnant?” He watches as your face crumples again, your head nodding your answer as he pulls you into his body, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he tries to soothe you.

“When were you going to tell me?” He asks, patient for your answer.

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to ruin the weekend.” You answer, your head tucked against his shoulder as you manage to calm down.

“Why would this ruin the weekend? Isn’t this good news?” Elias asks, his hand stroking the back of your head softly, as he rocks the two of your side to side.

“Is it?” You ask back, pulling your head away from his shoulder to glance down at him. “We’ve never even talked about something like this happening before, Elias.” He just nods, understanding your concerns as his hands move to stroke against your back.

“Is it something you want?” He asks, the question making you falter slightly.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s okay.” He affirms, smiling up at you. “We don’t have to know everything right now, but I don’t think this is a bad thing.” His words are gentle as per usual, the sassy man always had a sweet spot for you - always knowing what to say and when to say it.

“Just tell me what you want from me, and I’ll give it to you.” He explains, “If you’re not ready then we can figure something out - I want whatever you want.” He continues, leaning forwards to press a kiss against your wet cheek, your head nodding furiously as you take in what he says.

“Okay.” You speak quietly, returning his growing grin.

“Okay.” He responds, his arms pulling you back to his chest in a crushing hug - the excitement radiating off him. “I hope it’s a girl.” He adds quietly, your heart racing as images of Elias with a little girl on his shoulders race through your mind, tears starting to well up in your eyes again.

“Pregnancy hormones really are no joke.” Elias chirps, his thumbs wiping at the fresh tears with a chuckle as you smack at his chest.

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl #nhl fic #elias pettersson #elias pettersson x reader #elias pettersson fanfic #quinn hughes #quinn hughes fanfic

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thisreadswhatever · 1 year ago

Text

The Chase: Part One

Pretty Sweet

series masterlist

[description]: jax teller x female reader

[wordcount]: 2.7k+

[summary]: Jax Teller is used to getting what he wants. At least that was the case before he met you.

[cw]: 18+ only minors do not interact - AU, follows some canon characters & themes but timeline is different. otherwise none yet, but stick with me, I have a smutty plan!

[authors note]: this has been really fun to write. thank you so much to this anon for requesting this idea! I plan on writing a good few parts of this.. as I am really loving writing this reader insert. if you have any ideas or suggestions on where you would like this to go, please let me know! I absolutely love getting your suggestions. I really hope you enjoy!

It had been a long sixteen hour drive. You sighed with relief as you sped past the large wooden slice, “WELCOME TO CHARMING”. You rolled your windows down, the wind blistering through your hair as you took in the warm California sun.

You turned the music up, attempting to drown out the events replaying in your head that led you here in the first place.

Charming wasn’t exactly on your bucket list of places to travel. Your parents had split a few years back, after your mom decided she could no longer handle the baggage that came with the Sons of Anarchy MC. Your Dad was an avid member of the Denver Charter, and she soon realised she couldn’t sit back and watch as he grew deeper into the Club. It was a quick and amicable divorce, made easier by the fact you were an only child and more than understanding of why the relationship had to end. You were old enough to see the pain your mom went through trying to make it work, and you knew that it was the best decision for them both. Your Dad on the other hand, never really got over it.

When your mom remarried last year, he decided to leave Colorado and transferred to the SAMCRO Charter. Charming was his home now. He’d been begging you to visit him for months, and despite the fact you were genuinely pleased that he was happy, seeing him so far from home and content without his family wasn’t something you’d looked forward too.

Charming was a small place, and from what your Dad had told you, it had never really left the seventies. Denver was the total opposite, a city full of life and people, and ever growing with new expanding chains of business. Even with the freezing winters, there was always something to do in Denver. But Charming? They barely had a population of fifteen thousand.

You had evaded the trip for as long as you could, blaming college assignments and exams for the reason you couldn’t make the drive. Now that you’d graduated, the excuses had run thin, and it was time to visit your Dad in Charming.

You pulled into the road of the address he had given you, entering a long unpaved driveway that ended on the outside of a dainty cabin. Your Dad’s bike was parked stagnant on the dirt. You dug your suitcase out from your trunk and walked up the wooden steps to the porch, bringing your hand to the door to knock. Before your knuckles could meet the wood, the door flung wide and your Dad lunged at you with open arms.

“You’re finally here!”, he squealed in excitement as he grasped you into a giant bear hug.

“‘Finally’ is right. That was a serious drive, Dad.”

He took your suitcase and carried it through the entryway. “Sure is. I’m so glad you got here safely, kiddo. Come on, let’s get you settled. You hungry? I was just about to make some lunch.”

You followed him inside as you observed the interior of the quaint, dusty cabin. “I could definitely eat.”

—

Your Dad showed you to your room and then became sidetracked from lunch, giving you a full tour of his new home and the complete low down of all things SAMCRO. He’d explained that the place was owned by the Club, but nobody ever frequented it unless they were in hiding. Your Dad was housed here for the long term, or at least until he could find something he liked better inside the Charming suburbs.

Once he’d caught you up, he made his start on lunch. You watched as he strolled throughout the kitchen, sitting patiently at the small round dining table.

“It’s a nice place, Dad. Not sure how I feel that you’re out here all alone though.”

“I’m barely here, kiddo. Spend most of my time down the Clubhouse.” He shrugged nonchalantly as he continued to make sandwiches, dropping a piece of turkey in the process. “I can’t wait for you to meet the guys, y/n. A lot more warm than the ones up in Denver. Some of them are your age too.” He placed the plate in front of you, and you grimaced at the site. Your Dad had never claimed to be a great chef.

“Thanks.” You smiled at him politely, taking a bite and struggling to swallow down the piece of dry sandwich. “I’m sure they’re great, Dad.”

“So, how’s your mom?”

You shrugged dismissively, unsure how to broach the uncomfortable topic of the newly weds. “She’s doing well. Mike is good to her.”

He nodded. “That’s good. I’m really glad she’s happy.”

It was hard to see your Dad try to be okay with the fact that your mom had moved on. The awkward silence was interrupted by his chair scraping against the floor as he stood up from the table. “Finish lunch and we can head on out. The guys are getting together at the Clubhouse tonight, you can meet them all there.”

You knew an evening with a bunch of Californian bikers was going to be inevitable during your trip. At least you could get it over with on the first night.

“Sounds great, Dad.”

—

You weren’t thrilled to be back in the confines of your car so soon after your long road trip, but your Dad knew better than to ask you to sit on the back of his motorcycle.

You rolled the windows down of your car as you followed his bike through the winding road from the cabin. As you re-entered Charming, you passed by locally run stores and cafes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think this was a quiet, peaceful town. But you did know better. You knew what the Club’s presence actually meant for a small community like Charming. If SAMCRO was anything similar to the Denver Charter, the underworkings of this town would be anything but quiet and peaceful.

You pulled into the lot of Teller-Morrow Automotive Repairs, instantly drawn to the huge row of Harley motorcycles lined up on the inner bays.

Your Dad parked up and met you outside your car, telling you all about his new job in the garage as you walked together. He led you across the lot towards a small black door, entering into the SAMCRO clubhouse. It was impressive, a comfortable space with its own bar and lounge area. The place was full of MC memorabilia and pictures from the club’s long history. The furthest wall was centered by two large double doors that were surrounded by mugshots of the SAMCRO members. You had visited the Denver Clubhouse enough to know that room was where the decisions were made.

Your Dad introduced you one by one to several members that were there, a few of which he’d mentioned to you that afternoon. Bobby, Chibs, Trager, Juice and Opie all greeted you with open arms. They were extremely friendly and welcoming, just as your father had promised. The one your Dad called Trager seemed very pleased with your arrival, hugging you for a little too long. Your Dad managed to break the long embrace, pulling you away to start touring you around the building.

“Don’t get too close to that one, kiddo. He’s a little out there.”

You giggled as you nodded in agreement, “I’ll keep my distance.”

—

You sat alongside the club’s Secretary, Bobby, on a leather bench that faced out with a view of the entire room. You observed as the Clubhouse filled with more members and women, a handful of which were old ladies. The rest of them, very clearly single. Of all the members you’d met so far, Bobby had been the easiest to talk to. He clued you in on some of the Club’s legitimate businesses, Cara Cara and Red Woody Productions. You figured that’s where most of the girls came from, retired and current porn stars.

It was a little strange, and anyone else may have felt uneasy seeing their father in this kind of environment. But you were used to the life of girls and guns from growing up with a dad in a motorcycle club. The Denver Charter had its fair share of women in and out of their doors, but mainly just bartenders and the odd crow eater looking for a way in. These girls were more forward, scantily clothed, makeup on point, and obviously comfortable with their surroundings.

Bobby nudged your shoulder, regaining your attention from the party happening around you. “You know your Dad talks about you constantly. He’s so happy that you’re here, kid. We all are.”

You glanced over at your father, a huge smile forming as he collected a drink from the bar.

“He does seem happy. Just weird seeing him away from home.”

“You got a home here with us too now, y/n.” He placed his arm over you and squeezed your shoulder reassuringly, “we’re your family as much as we are his.”

“That’s really sweet, Bobby. Thanks.”

He pulled his arm back as he chuckled to himself, his large stomach bellowing as he laughed. “I am pretty sweet.”

Suddenly, the front door opened and a roar of drunken welcomes filled the clubhouse as two more members entered. The President of SAMCRO, Clay Morrow, walked in smiling ear to ear, hands held up as though he was a celebrity greeting his adoring fans. You’d heard a lot about Clay from your father, mainly that he was the initial sponsor for his transfer from Denver, and some remarks about what an ass he was. Behind him, a much younger member followed, embracing Opie as he entered. He was different from the other members, not totally clean cut, but you could at least tell he had showered. Not only was he bathed, he wasn’t harsh on the eyes either. You watched as he talked with Opie, his hands pushing his long blonde hair behind his ears as he spoke.

“Who’s that?” You asked Bobby, your eyes never feigning from the man.

“That’s Jax. Club’s VP.”

As you watched him converse with Opie, he suddenly glanced your way, locking eyes with you. You quickly turned away from him and back towards Bobby.

“He looks a little young to be Vice President”, you mumbled as you took a swig from your beer, still conscious that he was looking at you.

Bobby laughed, “Yeah, well, he’s a Teller. His Dad was First 9 alongside Clay and Piney Winston, Ope’s pops. Jax has been SAMCRO since he came out of the womb.”

You raised your eyebrows, glancing back over your shoulder. Jax’s attention had now been obtained by one of the Cara Cara girls. She was pulling him in by his cutte, batting her eyelashes at him as she leaned against the bar.

Bobby watched as you observed Jax. He sipped his drink, amused by your interest. “He’s known for his way with the ladies.”

You wanted to press Bobby further, but your Dad suddenly was stumbling over beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Come on over here, kid. I want you to meet my sponsor.”

“The asshole?”, you whispered to him as you stood up from the chair.

He snickered back at you, patting you on the back. “He’s having a good day.”

—

You were impressed by the brotherhood the Redwood Originals shared. It wasn’t unfamiliar to the Denver Charter, but the way the members of SAMCRO loved one another was palpable. You observed quietly throughout the night as they all ripped into each other with lighthearted banter and spilled beer all over the place. You were conflicted by the fact your Dad fit in so well here. It was painful to know he had chosen this life over one with you in Denver, but you still felt at peace knowing he had found a place in this family.

He was now slumped over a leather armchair in the lounge, snoozing after one too many beers. You nudged his shoulder, trying to wake him. “I’m gonna head back to the cabin, Dad. I’ll meet you here in the morning?”

“You sure, y/n?” He tried to stand up as he slurred, but his balance failed him, collapsing back into the seat. “I can lead you back-”

You chuckled, placing a hand on his head as he closed his eyes, “No way are you getting on a bike in this state. I remember the way.”

Tig overheard and slid himself beside you, placing an arm across your waist. “We’ll take care of him, sweetie. Don’t you worry. Get back safe, okay?”

You unwound from his grasp, collecting your bag from the coffee table as you searched through the contents for your keys. “Thanks Trager.”

A strange laugh left his throat as he watched you leave, before his face turned straight as a board. “Call me Tig.”

You said your goodbyes to the members that were sober enough to communicate, and made your way to the parking lot.

Jax Teller was sitting outside the clubhouse, journal and pencil in hand. He glanced up at the sound of the door opening, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips.

He smiled boldly, in a way that perplexed you. Almost like he was happy to see you, even though you’d never met. He took the cigarette from his lips as he asked, “you’re Ralph’s kid, right?”

“I usually just go by y/n.”

He placed his pencil inside the journal and tucked it snug in his cutte, standing from the bench. “It’s a nice thing you’re doing, coming all this way to see him.”

You nodded, “had to make sure my Dad wasn’t living with some crazed psychopaths, you know?”

He exhaled, his lips forming a perfect O as the smoke left his lips. “Pretty sure a few of those knuckleheads could pass for psychotic”, he teased. His mouth pulled into an infectious smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

Jax walked closer towards you, your bodies now inches apart. He held out an open pack of cigarettes, prompting you to take one. You shook your head, declining the offer.

“And what about you? How’s your level of sanity?”

Jax hesitated. “A work in progress.”

You smiled politely as you walked past him, making your way to the car. “Anyway, I was just leaving. Was nice meeting you.”

Jax’s brow creased in concern, “you heading to the cabin on your own?”

You looked over your shoulder to see him pacing behind you, flicking his cigarette to the cement.

“My Dad’s not exactly in riding order.”

“I can take you back.”

You stopped outside your car and turned to him, scoffing at how forward he was. “I met you thirty seconds ago.”

“So?” He shrugged.

“I don’t really think that’s appropriate.”

“I’m not asking to get in bed with you, y/n. You can ride the Harley with me and I’ll leave the second you’re in the cabin.”

You opened the car door, sliding into the seat. “Not gonna happen.”

“I won’t lay a hand on ya, darlin’,” he raised his hand up, smiling, “scouts honor.”

You pressed your lips together, suppressing yourself from giggling at his innocent gesture. “I don’t ride bikes.” You affirmed.

Jax cocked his head at you, confused at the statement. “Denver girl’s scared of bikes?”

Your eyes rolled at his assumption. “No offense, but I just met you. I’m not sure my safety is your concern.” You shut the car door, realising your window had been left ajar from the way there. You wanted to curse aloud that the good Californian weather enabled the opportunity to ride with the windows down.

Jax didn’t push further, nodding his head as he watched you settle into the driver's seat. “No offense taken.”

Jax leaned his head into the open window, resting his arms on the roof of the car. You turned the ignition, letting the engine roar to life. “Nice to meet you, Jax.”

“You too, darlin’. Will I see you again?”

You were looking directly at him, your faces parted only by the frame of the window between you. “I’m here for the week, darlin’.”

His lips pulled from ear to ear, smiling playfully as you put the gear in reverse, forcing his hands off the car as you pulled out of the parking lot. You peaked in the rear-view mirror, finding Jax still watching you drive away into the Charming night.

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sebscore · 2 years ago

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BLOOMING BOND | LEWIS H.

pairing: lewis hamilton x fem!reader

warnings: reference to his iconic 'imagine' tweet. talk about having kids. talk of not wanting an unpresent father. swearing.

author's note: this post by @allkindfangirl inspired me to write this and I hope she enjoys it :)

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''Aunt Y/N, can you braid my hair, please?'' Willow walked up to the breakfast table, holding her pink hairbrush.

The woman put her drink down, smiling down at the young girl. ''Of course, honey,'' she slid her chair back and got up, ''we'll do it inside so I can get ready myself.'' Y/N stuck out her hand and Willow swiftly took it.

''Willow, what do you say to her?'' Her mother glanced at her, trying to look stern. The small girl huffed, seemingly embarrassed by her mother's reminder of having manners. ''Thank you, Y/N.'' The slight frown turned into a toothy grin as she looked up at her uncle's girlfriend.

''You're welcome, Willow.'' Y/N chuckled, winking at Lewis who smiled at the pair. A skipping Willow dragged her inside the vacation home and made their way towards the bathroom.

The rest of the family watched them leave with loving eyes, endeared by the interaction. ''Willow is obsessed with her.'' Nicola stated, looking at her brother.

Her sister nodded her head. ''I know,'' she agreed, ''her hair needs to be like Y/N's, her clothes need to be like Y/N's- it's all I'm hearing these days.'' She sighed, not out of annoyance or agitation, but out of happiness that Willow had found a role-model in her brother's partner.

''That's adorable,'' Lewis giggled, ''Y/N also loves her and Kaiden- always talking about how such good kids they are and wanting to buy them stuff.'' He told his family, recalling the times they had gone shopping and Y/N would see certain items that reminded her of the two kids.

''It's very sweet.'' Anthony commented, the smile on Lewis' face bringing one to his own.

Carmen scratched her voice. ''The little ones were very excited to see the two of you again. They were even naming all the things you could do together.'' The weeks leading up to the family vacation, Willow and Kaiden had been telling their grandmother's ear off about how much they were looking forward to it.

''We were excited as well, it's been a while since we've all spent time like this together.'' Lewis answered, his heart melting at the thought of his niece and nephew being all giddy about seeing him and Y/N again.

The other family members agreed. ''Yes, thank you so much for organising this, Lu.'' Samantha thanked him, sending an appreciative smile his way.

''No, you don't have to thank me! It's my pleasure.'' He brushed her words off, growing shy.

A comfortable silence fell upon them, bathing in the family time and the beautiful sight of the morning glow in Bali. That didn't last long, though.

''CANNONBALL!''

The loud voice of Kaiden cut through the peace and the sound of someone landing in the pool interrupted the tranquillity of the moment. Lewis' brother-in-law quickly followed after his son and everyone went back to either eating or getting themselves ready for the activities of the day.

''Nice braid, Willow.'' Lewis complimented his niece as she walked past him to go outside with her new hair, a braid with several flower accessories attached.

''I know, Y/N did it.'' She told her uncle in a 'duh'-tone.

Lewis simply laughed and walked to their room, finding his girlfriend changing into a beautiful spring dress. ''Hey, beauty.'' He kissed her cheek, admiring her in the mirror.

''Hi, honey.'' Y/N smiled at him, adjusting the straps on her shoulders.

''I just ran into miss Willow who had a beautiful braid in her hair.'' He grinned, grabbing his swimming trunks from his suitcase. ''I told her it looked nice and she just went ''I know, Y/N did it' with a little attitude, it was the funniest thing.'' He recalled the interaction with his niece, chuckling to himself.

''I wonder where she gets that sassy attitude from.'' Y/N smirked, glancing at her boyfriend with a raised eyebrow.

Lewis took off his infamous Senna shirt and threw it at her, the woman smoothly catching it. ''I have no idea what you're talking about, darling.'' He pretended, sheepishly smiling.

''Oh, Mister 'Imagine' doesn't know what I'm talking about, huh?'' Y/N lightly mocked him, folding his shirt and laying it on one of the chairs.

The Mercedes driver took off his shorts and boxers, switching them for his swimming wear. ''Anyway,'' he changed the topic, making her laugh, ''we were just talking about how well you and the little ones get along.'' A fond smile found its way to his face, remembering the conversation he had earlier.

''Really? That's cute, Lew.'' A few years ago it would have freaked her out if she knew his family had been talking about her, but a loving bond had bloomed over the course of her relationship with Lewis and now she considered them family as well.

''Yeah,'' he walked up behind her, trapping her in a back hug, ''it made me think about something.''

''About what?'' Y/N looked at him through the mirror.

''About us having our own kids.''

The sudden mention surprised her, her eyebrows raised and eyes widened. They had discussed it before, but some time had passed between that last conversation and now. ''Oh.''

''I know we said we would continue the discussion when it's my last F1 season, but I just couldn't help but think about it when you walked away with Willow.'' Lewis confessed, a dreamy look in his eyes.

''I understand,'' she smiled, ''you'd be a great dad, Lewis.''

Sometimes it was hard to ignore the warm feeling she got when she saw Lewis with kids, it made her daydream about her future with the Formula One star. Y/N was okay with waiting until Lewis was ready to retire, though. She wanted a present father for her children- not one that was away most of the time and missed all the important milestones in their children's life.

''And you will be the most amazing mother.'' He pressed a kiss to her temple, reveling in the feeling of having the love of his life in his arms.

''Sir Uncle and Aunt Y/N sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes baby. In a baby carriage!'' Kaiden and Willow chorused, yelling the popular playground nursery rhyme through the house.

The couple laughed at the comedic interruption, pulling away from one another. ''Maybe it's not that bad to wait a few years, I'm not ready for that yet.'' Lewis joked, grabbing a towel and his phone.

''Dream on, honey.'' Y/N teased, walking to their bathroom and taking the sunscreen from one of the cabinets.

Lewis stuck his head through the bathroom door, a smirk playing on his lips. ''I do have a wild imagination.'' He winked, referring to his own song with Christina Aguilera.

''Fuck off, XNDA,'' she tried throwing a discarded towel at him, ''I like Kendrick more, anyway.''

#lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagines #f1 fic #f1 fics #f1 x reader #formula 1 fic #f1 x oc #formula one fics #lewis hamilton x y/n #f1 x you #lewis hamilton #f1 fluff

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jsprnt · 8 months ago

Text

Americano PT. 6 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: sorry for the late update! enjoy reading. Next update will be around April 12, due to my exams 🫶🫶

W/C: 3.814

part five

Liked by linacarolina and others

ynln03 Last grind before vacay!

Itsmeluis call me next time 🤙🏽

ynln03 you would order the entire menu instead of working 🤔

camavinga my future lawyer 💼

ynln03 only if you stay in Madrid 😎

linacarolina born to relax, forced to study

ynln03 come and save me please

yourdollamira can't wait to see you babes!

ynln03 one more night!

judebellingham did you spill your coffee? ynln03 reported. go train or something 🤢

I smile to myself as I read the comments on my Instagram post, taking a sip of my cappuccino. The weather was perfect to get some last-minute work done, so my dad dragged me outside with him earlier this afternoon.

International break had begun again, which meant that we had a little more than a week off. It was last-minute, but I had decided to go on a short trip back to London. I had missed everyone there and needed a small break from everything.

"How is studying going?" I hear, looking up and making eye contact with my dad as he sits back in his chair.

I give him a guilty grin and turn my phone off, shoving it away from myself as I pretend to focus.

"Very good. I understand everything so far.." I mumble, skipping to the next slide of the presentation.

I my eyes dart back to him, he gives me a knowing look, then goes to take a sip of his latte.

"Any questions?"

I hesitate for a moment, questioning what I know and don't know.

"Uh- could you put this situation into a different perspective or give me a different example?" I ask, pointing at the sentence on my screen.

"Alright, let me..."

He pulls the laptop closer to himself, reading the slide before he starts answering my question. I keep nodding absentmindedly, looking at my laptop screen while my thoughts wander. Focus and concentration lessening by the minute.

"Are you even paying attention?" My dad suddenly asks, his hand reaching over to shut the laptop.

I snap out of my daydream to look at him, leaning back in my chair.

"Of course, I'm listening.."

"Doesn't look like that to me. What is it? You look distracted."

I sigh, sitting up straight and finally giving in.

I knew he'd be disappointed by my low efforts, but I genuinely needed a little break.

"I'm just so ready to leave for London. I just need a break from work and this..." I confess, pointing to my screen. He responds with a sigh. It feels like he is going to scold me and give me one of his life lectures, but it never comes.

Instead, he stands up from his seat, shutting his own laptop.

"Let's go home then. You should finish packing for your trip, and we'll make dinner together. Will you call Carmen for the recipe of what you want to make?"

I fix my sweatsuit again, knowing it will keep me warm and cozy when I arrive in London in a few hours.

I had checked the weather, and it was expectedly way colder out there than Madrid. To combat the cold, I had pulled out the most comfortable set of clothes from my closet.

"Hurry up!" I hear my dad shout from downstairs, making me jump at the noise, it distracting me from the mirror. I quickly grab onto my suitcase, beginning to roll it out of my room.

"I'm coming, don't rush me, dad! It stresses me out!" I exclaim, standing still for a moment when I reach the stairs. Starting to pull the suitcase down the staircase with some difficulty. I especially pretend to not notice as the suitcase falls a couple steps ahead of me when I lose my grip on the handles.

I hear him fuss again. I finally arrive in front of him, panting in exhaustion. I watch him as he grabs my suitcase from me.

"Come on.." He urges, already walking out of the house, presumably to put my suitcase in his trunk.

I quickly run back up the staircase, grabbing my last essentials before I pull my shoes on. Not forgetting to shut and lock the front door before I run up to the car.

"Can't believe you're taking the whole house with you, kiddo." He mutters, but I laugh in return. Maybe, just perhaps, I had a packing problem..

I look at him for a moment, realizing he looked a little sad. I knew his mood was down since I was leaving for a couple days. I lean forward, clicking some buttons on the screen.

"Come on, dad, cheer up! I know this is your favorite song." I say, smiling and swaying to the melody.

I notice a small smile growing on his face. I begin to laugh when he starts singing.

Of course, I don't hesitate to sing along..

"Yes, dad. I've arrived safely. I'm just looking for auntie right now."

I strain my neck, trying to hold my phone in between my ear and shoulder. Combining that task with dragging my suitcase and holding onto my carry-on was a challenge.

The London cold hits me almost instantly. It makes me shiver for a moment, my eyes roaming around my proximity to look for anyone I recognize.

"Good, your aunt said she's waiting outside, further on your left."

My dad replies, prompting me to look to my left. Knowing extra details gives me immediate relief. I continue walking in that direction until I finally witness my aunt stepping out of a black Mercedes SUV.

I grin to myself, smiling the moment I spot my auntie. I watch her jog up to me, the sound of her heels clicking against the ground making her presence known.

"Dad, I spotted them. I'll call when we get home. Love you." I speak into the phone, hearing a short 'goodbye' and 'stay safe' from my dad before he hangs up. I rush to put my phone in my pocket, raising my head to look up again.

I'm pulled into the biggest and warmest hug within seconds. My aunt's signature perfume gives me a sense of nostalgia when I breathe in her scent.

I would be lying if I said that I didn't have a bottle of J'Adore by Dior back home. Just to feel like she was in my presence. My aunt was one of the few women in my life who provided the feminine energy I needed growing up. Especially when I moved here for high school all those years ago.

"My sweet girl." She exclaims, pulling back, her eyes roaming around my face as she squeezes me tightly. "You've grown up so much!" She adds, kissing my cheek.

"You look amazing, auntie! Looking younger than before." I reply, my eyes caught up in her sparkly eyeshadow and lash extensions.

"That's the botox, silly." She says, making me chuckle. She'd always been super honest about everything. Not a single lie would leave her lips.

"So, the sassy princess has returned?" I hear, moving my head to look behind my aunt. I immediately recognize her husband walking up to us. His face is kind as ever.

My aunt lets go of me, and I go up to hug my uncle. He was a man I would definitely call my second father.

He'd raised me along with my auntie. Tolerated my attitude through my teenage years, and insecure times in high school. He taught me so many things, from boring politics to how to get over a breakup. My most precious memories being him teaching me about small but important matters.

"Woah! Are you balding?" I tease, saying the exact opposite of what I had told my aunt. I hear her laugh behind me, the expression on my uncle's face turning serious, but I notice the small grin on his face.

"You'll make me catch a flight to Turkey if you don't stop." He replies, touching his still-there hair.

"Come on, let's go home. Your cousins have been asking for you this entire week."

"y/n! You're finally here!" I hear my cousin shout. Small footsteps heard throughout the house as I stand at the bottom of the stairs.

"Luca!" I exclaim, opening my arms to greet him with a tight hug, swaying our bodies when I hold him.

"How have you gotten this tall already? You're only ten, what's your mom and dad feeding you?" I tease, tickling his stomach. Cute giggles leaving him as he continues laughing.

"Where are your sisters?" I ask, looking around for his twin and baby sister.

"They played so hard with Millie. They fell asleep, but I wanted to wait for you."

I nod at his explanation, making the connection that 'Millie', was the nanny who just left.

"How sweet of you. Let me freshen up, and then we'll play together. You alright with that?" I ask, fixing his brown hair while watching him nod eagerly.

I thank my uncle as he moves my suitcase up the stairs. He pats my back before telling me to get settled in. I nod, closing the door, and walk away to sit down on the pink vanity chair. All types of nostalgia flooding my senses. Nothing in the room had changed, not even the multiple Zayn Malik posters on the wall.

I go to collect my toiletries and change of clothes from my suitcase, immediately walking into the bathroom to take a quick refreshing shower.

I walk out fifteen minutes later and hurry down the stairs. I notice Luca had started on a puzzle. A generation Alpha kid who's not obsessed with technology, that was refreshing.

"Want some help?" I ask, seeing him struggle with a part of the puzzle.

"Yes, I can't find this piece." He confesses, making me chuckle.

"Hm, okay, so let's see. We need to find a piece with two edges. Can you see some?"

I watch him ponder for a second, his tongue peeking out in concentration as he separates a handful of pieces.

"These?" He asks for confirmation, looking up with a questioning expression.

"You're right! Let's look back at our pattern. Do you think this one will fit?" I ask, pointing at a piece and seeing him shake his head.

"What about this one?" I ask, watching him think for a moment before nodding.

"Try it." I encourage, observing him trying to complete the corners.

"I did it!" He exclaims a while later, joy emitting from his face as his nose scrunches cutely.

"Good job! Now let's try the other ones, hm?"

Why keep ourselves busy with the puzzle until we hear someone walk down the stairs.

"Layla is awake!" Luca yells, announcing the arrival of his twin sister.

She looks confused, freshly woken up. Her hair looking crazy as she stands there at the bottom of the stairs.

"Come here, Layla!" I urge, smiling as she walks up to me, hugging her closely.

I fix her hair as she sits in front of me, pulling her curls back into a ponytail.

"Here I fixed your beautiful hair. Why don't you join your brother in playing puzzles?" I ask and she nods, helping her brother.

I get up after a bit, walking into the kitchen. Seeing my uncle and aunt cook- what I'm assuming, lunch.

"What would our guest like to eat?" My uncle says, putting his apron on. He makes overly large and dramatic gestures, messing around with me.

"Oh- the sandwich you always made me after school! Doesn't taste the same when I make it." I request, sitting on a chair.

"Coming right up!"

"She's so cute! Don't think she remembers me at all. Look at her face." I laugh, holding the three year old as I sit on the sofa. Our bellies full with delicious dinner.

"Of course she does. You were one of the first to hold her." My aunt tries to convince me, nudging my arm.

"She looks disgusted."

"That's just her resting face. Runs in the family." She replies, making me laugh.

"Is this what I look like as well?"

"When you were sixteen, yes. Or when I used slang to communicate with you." My uncle replies, setting his cup of tea down.

"I remember that, it was traumatizing, to be honest."

"Can't wait to use it on Layla." He jokes again, laughing.

"If she's anything like me you'll be in trouble."

"That's the fun part about having girls.."

I shake my head in disbelief, returning my attention to Maya on my lap. Cooing at her chubby cheeks as she chews on a fruit snack.

"Have you made plans yet?" My aunt asks, making me turn my head to look at her.

"I'm hanging with Amira if you guys don't mind?"

"Of course! You're not a teenager anymore, you don't have to ask. We don't mind, but please, if you drink, drink moderately."

"Don't worry, that's something I can control." I smile cheekily, waving Maya's arms side to side. Hearing her cute giggles at the movement makes me smile harder.

"Amira, am I supposed to wear something in specific?" I ask through the phone, rummaging through my closet. Thankful I hung my clothes up in my closet last night.

"Nope, just getting our nails done. Oh, but if you're coming early, you have to wait a little longer since I have clients coming in." She replies.

Amira and I met in high school and still are the closest of friends nowadays. I had moved back to Spain while she stayed in the city she was born in, London. She had followed her dreams of becoming a full-time stylist, and her work was insane.

"Okay, I'll be there in like- an hour or so..." I mutter, distracted by my clothing options. Eventually, I grab some baggy jeans and a white top. Deciding to add the details in my jewelry and shoes.

After getting dressed and finishing my makeup, I grab my handbag. Finally getting out of the house and starting to walk in the direction of Amira's office.

I eventually arrive about fifteen minutes later, standing in front of the office door, waiting for Amira to open it. I raise my eyebrows in surprise when she appears, beautiful as ever.

"Look at you! How pretty have you become in two years? Photos and FaceTime calls don't do this pretty face justice.." Amira exclaims, going in to hug me.

"Could say the same about you. New hairstyle? When did you get your braids done?" I ask, pulling away from her.

"Literally last night." She answers, running a hand down a few braids.

"Well, you look fucking amazing." I compliment, taking my jacket off and hanging it up on the coat hanger.

"When is your client coming in?" I ask, turning to her.

"In a few. Thought you'd like to play with some pieces until I'm finished." She says, grabbing my hand and dragging me into a different spot of the office. Racks, on top of racks of clothing, greeting me.

"This is your size, right? If I remember correctly."She asks, pointing to a label stuck on the front of a rack. Making me nod in confirmation, in awe at the amount of clothes.

I rummage through the racks of clothing as Amira becomes busy with her client. I was looking for a way to entertain myself. Without interrupting her and her client- or clients. It definitely sounded like two masculine voices, at least.

I hum to myself as I flip through the rack of dresses. Instantly, a beautiful black mini dress catches my attention. The deep neckline gives it a sexy and absolutely breathtaking touch.

I immediately walk into the minimally decorated changing room on the left, hanging up the dress on the hanger before locking the door behind me.

Putting the dress on is fairly easy. I struggle a bit with the zipper at the back of the dress, but eventually I manage to zip it up. Finally looking at myself in the mirror after a moment. Admiring the way it compliments my body type.

I need some heels to complete the look, black in color, preferably. I unlock the door, eyes scanning through the selection of heels, before I grab a pair of black buckled kitten heels. Then, I go and grab my phone from Amira's desk, walking back quickly. I have to take pictures, especially with how good the lighting is.

My phone is in my left hand as I try to bend down, trying to balance myself as I fidget to buckle my heels up. I hear some footsteps nearby, but decide to ignore them as I focus on the buckles.

Though, my effort of balancing myself goes in vain as my foot slips unexpectedly, making me fall backwards, a small shout escapes my lips.

I close my eyes, waiting for my body to collide with the floor, but instead I feel arms wrap around my back. Holding me up from falling.

My eyes snap open, eyes wide, and in shock as my brain struggles to comprehend anything when I make eye contact with someone I thought I'd never see here in a million years.

Neither of us utters a word for the next few seconds, minutes maybe. I feel his grip get tighter as my heel slips again, making me yell.

I realize the position we're in, his face is close enough for me to smell his minty breath. A curse leaves my lips, and I try to detach his hands from my waist as I stand up straight.

"Let go."

"Are you stalking me?" The Brit accuses, letting go of me and stepping back.

"What the fuck? Why would I stalk you? You're stalking me." I retort, pointing at him. Immediately going to smooth out my dress, pulling it down as it had ridden up unbeknownst to me.

He doesn't respond, continuing to just look at me without any sort of emotion on his face.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I add, pulling a face. I raise my hand, waving it in front of his face, before I hear an annoyed scoff.

"What do you think?" He asks, pointing at the floor covered in clothes, which I presume he'd dropped trying to 'help' me.

"Do I look like a mind reader?" I retort, looking up from the mess on the floor.

"Whatever." He mutters, picking up the clothes, walking into the empty changing room, and locking the door behind him.

I roll my eyes, pissed at the fact that even a thousand kilometers later, I still managed to run into him. I kick the heels off my feet, shoving them to the side neatly, and go sit down on the couch in front of the changing rooms.

I hesitantly sit down before I hear Amira shout my name. Her face appears in the corner of my eye as she walks up to me, a very recognizable person behind her.

"Yeah?" I ask, fidgeting with the neckline of the dress.

"Woah, the dress looks so fucking good on you." She says, coming up to stand in front of me.

"Yeah, I know it's just- wait he's..?" I trail off, eyes flickering to the insanely familiar guy next to her.

"Oh, this is my client, Trent, y/n." She alternates between us, and I reach out to shake his hand.

Then it clicks.

Jude was here for his international break. Which meant he was probably hanging out with his England teammates.

Of course, he was.

"You play at- Liverpool, right?" I ask, looking into his big brown eyes. He nods, reintroducing himself again in his Liverpool- or Scouser accent.

Our attention is directed to the changing room as the door rattles. Jude appearing from the room wearing a black suit. I immediately avert my eyes in case he thinks I actually care.

"There he is, looking good man." I hear Trent say, his Liverpool accent prominent.

"It does look really nice." Amira says, walking over to fix parts of the material.

I hold back a scoff. If only she knew how much of an arse he was.

I roll my eyes as I hear him being complimented over and over again. I lean back again, trying to forget the embarrassing situation that had happened earlier. My peaceful meditation interrupted as I hear Amira gasp.

"You two know each other. Right?"

I open my eyes, seeing Trent and Amira both look back and forth in between us.

I hear an uninterested 'yeah' come from Jude as I follow up with a 'sadly'. Going back to close my eyes. Wanting to do anything but interact with him.

A couple minutes pass before I hear my name being shouted by Amira. Her voice coming from her own office. I stand up and walk inside, smiling at Amira as she waves for me to join them. Shoving a pink mug of something warm onto the table.

I don't even register the fact that I'm still dressed like I was going to hit the club in a few minutes.

"Thank you." I smile, sitting down next to her. I take a sip of the drink. Avoiding eye contact with Jude, who's sitting right across from me.

A very familiar sight.

Maybe, I should instigate a little.

"So, Trent what are you two doing here?" I ask, a very obvious question, but enough to pry.

"We have some important events coming up and wanted Amira to style us." He answers, his eyes flickering towards her.

Woah, that wasn't a normal, friendly look. What did these two have going on?

"That's nice, you'll look the best out of everyone there." I smile, throwing him a wink, my arm wrapping around Amira shoulder.

"Yeah, definitely. Though, how do you two know each other." Trent asks, throwing Jude and I a questioning look.

"We work together back in Madrid." I answer, watching Jude roll his eyes.

"For Real Madrid?"

"Yeah, I'm on the marketing and PR team."

"Oh! You're the-" He begins, placing a hand on his mate's shoulder as if to tease him. He's cut off as Jude throws him a 'don't say anything else look.'

It forces me to hold back a laugh as I watch his face turn sour.

So, he did talk about me to other people?

Our conversation is interrupted as Trent's phone starts ringing loudly. Their driver letting them know he had arrived.

I watch Amira walk them out. My eyebrows raise when she returns with the biggest smile on her face.

"Something is up with you and that Liverpool boy." I whisper, squinting at her when she shakes her head in denial.

"Go get changed, our nail appointment is in an hour." She ushers, changing the topic.

"Well, I called it." I tease, chuckling at the flustered look on her face. Getting up to go change.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude x reader #jude bellingham imagine #real madrid fc #jude bellingham fanfic #footballer x reader #football imagines #football fanfic #football #football imagine #bellingham x reader #real madrid

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junosmindpalace · 1 year ago

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may i request a gojo x reader one shot where y/n is gojo's former student, after she graduated she went out of the country then after 5 yrs she comes back to work at tokyo jujutsu high as a teacher like gojo. y/n used to have a crush on gojo back then (maybe she still does 😋) and now that y/n's back after a long time gojo kinda missed her so they often spend time together. y/n keeps convincing herself it's just some kind of friendly reunion, nothing more but one day during the sister school goodwill event she gets jealous when she sees gojo teasing utahime and interacting with her. gojo wonders what got y/n into a pissy mood and y/n is like "why do you even care? just go back to your flirting session" then that's where gojo finds out she's just jealous. he'll tease her and idk maybe a confession between them will follow? i'm rlly sorry i suck at explaining things but i hope you get most of it and this gets accepted 😭 thanks! 💓

UNKNOWN / NTH

hi anon! thank you for your request and patience! i changed a couple of details in this request and it turned out soo weirdly angst but the main idea is still there! i hope that’s alright!

3.2k words. a little all over the place.

“call me every single day, you hear me? you can’t leave me all alone with this guy.”

shoko doesn’t even look over her shoulder as she jabs her thumb toward the white haired teen standing behind her shoulder, who drops his mouth open in disbelief at her insulting tone. the tension in your chest eased up as you laughed.

“of course.”

leaving your friends so soon after graduating was hard to wrap your head around, even with a car waiting to take you to the airport outside the gates of the jujutsu tech building and the occasion bump into your suitcase as you shifted your weight between your legs.

with the assassination of the star plasma vessel and the suguru incident that made your worlds turn upside down, it seemed reasonable that you’d want to stay; immerse yourself in something familiar. but staying at jujutsu tech--in japan all together--was overwhelming. you needed time to figure and sort yourself out; cope without having to relive painful memories every time you passed where the incidents took place.

leaving the two people who helped you cope during the ordeal with suguru was difficult, but though they too were pained to part from their friend, they also understood the importance of your leave. they weren’t too stressed, though. you’d stay in touch. you promised.

shoko stepped forward to give you one final departing gift, wrapping her arms around your neck as you immediately reciprocated, and in shoko’s arms did you mull over whether this was the right choice for you for the nth time.

a couple moments pass before the two of you pull apart, with shoko whispering a threatening “you better call.” one final time, jabbing an accusing finger at you as if you had already broken your promise, before stepping off to the side to allow satoru to get his own affairs in order. he stepped toward you with a roll of his eyes.

satoru gojo has been an insufferable ass ever since you met him in your first year. to you, he once came off inconsiderate and ill-mannered, and to satoru, you once came off stuck up and uptight. yet somehow the mutual distaste you two had for each other upon first meeting turned into a friendship filled with teasing.

it felt weird leaving satoru behind especially, because somehow along the bumpy road the two of you took to get to where you were now, something yet again shifted in the way you viewed him, a shift you were still unfamiliar with. it felt strange leaving without it figured out. but you’d get a chance to, you hoped. like with everything else in your bizarre life.

your usual banter insued as satoru took hold of the handle on your suitcase, swinging it back and forth before loading it into the open trunk. you threatened satoru to look out for himself and not be too much of a nuisance while you were away as he did so. he clicked his tongue as he brought the trunk down with a thud! and waved off your false threats.

”don't miss me too much, y/n.” he smirked over his shoulder, tinted glasses sliding down the slope of his nose as he stepped back up on the sidewalk. cerulean eyes shone under the morning sunlight, fixed on you with an intense gaze in contrast to his easy smile. you looked over your shoulder as you opened the rear car door, mimicking his expression.

”won't be a problem.”

the first couple of months went strong. you upheld your promise of calling shoko frequently, and satoru would often squeeze himself into the frame of shoko’s camera to tease or hurl an insult toward you. she’d shoo him off or laugh along, because she too missed the playful banter you all once immersed yourselves in. and though you were far from the paths you once trekked with your friends, only ghosts of those moments lingering on them now, at least there was no trace of your dying friendship.

more time passed and contact became less frequent. life went on, and keeping in touch as regularly as you once did became increasingly difficult. only on occasion were you able to organize a chat, so much yet so little to be said. each new life event shared left you to ponder over even hours after you had hung up the phone.

and soon enough, a decade had passed. ten years you thought you’d spend in agony over being away from the people and places you considered home flew by considerably fast, and the thought nauseated you slightly as you reminisced on memories from your youth.

the nostalgia of your teenage years lingered like a light fog in your mind, always finding some way to trace even the most mundane of things back to your old friends, especially satoru gojo. even after ten long, busy years, you still found that annoying white haired friend of yours lingering in the back of your mind.

though so much time had passed, you hadn’t gone cold turkey with your communication from your friends; only infrequent. you knew of the important things: the promising new students at jujutsu tech, satoru becoming a teacher, the curse that was rika, the night parade of a hundred demons, toji’s son that satoru was now looking over—suguru’s death. all things recollected to you from your texts with shoko and gojo. though neither of them were quite big on details.

ten years has definitely granted you time to think, to organize, to consider and try new things. you worked through complicated feelings, you met new people, you saw and experienced new things, and certainly had all those things teach you a couple of important lessons.

and ultimately, after over a decade, you made the decision to return to japan as a teacher at jujutsu tech.

around this time, you felt a consistent nagging as if there was still a missing, unsorted piece of your life. you believed that perhaps the decision to return home was spurred by the growing intensity of it. it built up slowly over your less frequent phone calls and text conversations with your old friends and the ever growing amount of changing of their lives back home. though perhaps suguru’s death compelled you to return as well.

you returned the following year after the night parade of a hundred demons. you convinced yourself it would just be a friendly reunion like with the rest of your old friends, but the second you were standing face to face with satoru, your heart said otherwise.

it wasn’t unusual to feel anxious when reuniting with someone, but the painstakingly long pause that followed upon being reunited after so many years made you suppress a shudder. It was hard to believe the man in front of you was the troublemaker you used to go to school with. It was hard to believe he was even real.

you used the silence to get a good look at him, just to make sure it was truly him (and you think satoru was doing the same, regardless of his six eyes.) he had gotten even taller, and he now wore his messy locks of snow white hair up. his uniform was still fitted as it used to be, always just a bit baggier than his tall frame.

but the most prominent difference was his new defining feature, and so you decided to comment on it first. satoru was still in a sort of trance (of shock you guessed; your only indicator were his slightly parted lips) when you broke the ice with a smirk and the words he had parted with you over a decade ago.

"hope you didn’t miss me too much, satoru. what's with the tacky blindfold?”

and the grin that followed on his lips stretched from ear to ear.

satoru your coworker wasn't all that different from satoru your classmate. he was still as childish as ever, irritated by the higher ups and an irritation to all those around him. you found that out rather quickly when reuniting with yaga and nanami. you made a dramatic fuss over how much they both had changed, nanami shyly looking down with a slight frown reminiscent of the signature one he wore when he was younger. you didn’t feel it was appropriate to bring up haibara or suguru at any point.

but your relationship with satoru your coworker was off from your relationship with satoru your classmate. It had been years, and you’ve fallen into your normal rhythm with satoru pretty quickly and easily on the surface. but the passage of time was still evident in your conversations as it was with the changes in your appearances. time matured him (or most likely his ordeals with suguru). even his manner of speaking was so serious sometimes that it caught you off guard. it felt even worse than having him hate you, treating you as if you were a stranger hurting that much more.

so much yet so little had changed. you were taken aback by the amount of maturity in his reasoning for wanting to become a teacher, even if it was so out of place for him, over a catch up brunch. it almost made you feel as if he were a stranger, with a new sense of maturity coupled with his new, more distant look and behaviour.

he’d tease you like he always did, but it didn't have as much bite. he'd show you around tokyo, treating you to desserts and jokingly gifting you funny souvenirs; but because satoru had become so unfamiliar, it didn’t feel as comforting as you thought it would.

and that nagging feeling that you couldn’t quite put your finger on arose again.

you reunited with mei mei and utahime during the sister school goodwill event, with the latter enveloping you in a large hug reminiscent of the ones you received when you left them over a decade ago. they had all stayed relatively close, with utahime becoming a teacher like satoru at the sister school in kyoto.

you were good friends with her, always defending her from satoru’s insults and indulging in her (in your case, faux) hatred toward satoru. you two had also stayed in close contact, appreciating all the emotional support she provided and her updates on the events in her life and the jujutsu world (with complaints about satoru tossed in here and there).

which is why your jealousy was irrational, you thought to yourself as you watched satoru and utahime in the monitoring room. you knew satoru and utahime being the last two people in the world wouldn’t make them fall in love. even if they were, your jealousy was still out of place. if anything, you should feel happy for your two old friends.

but perhaps it had more to do with the distance and familiarity satoru and utahime were able to maintain, even if it was their regular quarreling and distaste for one another. perhaps the way they were able to slip into the routine they’ve kept up for so many years, no matter how ruthless it was, ate at you, reminded you of how different things were between you and satoru. you weren’t two teenagers who’d sometimes catch each other’s stares from across a room. you weren’t attending school together and going on missions.

and the distance was bound to strain your relationship. but you figured that if there was anyone you’d be able to break back into routine with, it was the troublemaker you had known since the two of you were fresh faced students like the ones he now mentors.

it was all those little things stacked atop each other, that casual and distant demeanor satoru treated you with as if you were a stranger, time staring back at you in the mature way he, shoko and utahime carried themselves, and satoru slipping into a routine that you were sure you and him would be able to maintain with someone else, made that whole tower of unease fall apart with that final crack.

he had walked off after you after you had excused yourself from the room, feeling sick the more you thought about the large gap in memories, in time, in knowledge, between you and the others.

“jealous?” he smirked, clearly amused by your sudden outburst (and deeply curious, since it was so out of character for you).

“not a chance.”

not in the way he was suggesting, at least. you waved him off. “go back to your flirting session.”

and Satoru stopped in his tracks, recoiling in disgust over the mere implication. because even he knew that you would never think such a thing of his relationship with utahime, even if he were to one day tell you that something was going on.

perhaps it was the distance, satoru thought to himself sadly. because while to you satoru didn’t seem to be all that affected by your return, he still saw in you that old classmate of his that made his face burn with simply the strength they exhibited, with only a short meeting of gazes from across a room as a teenager, and his heart ached at emotional distance. there was no way that classmate that knew which treats to bribe him with and what games were his favorite would ever assume such a thing about him.

getting through to one another was never easy, both of you equally stubborn in your resolve. and when you throw this terrible distance, these horrible feelings of insecurity and confusion, it made the miscommunication between the two of you that much worse.

but satoru remembers the day you left as if no time had passed at all. he remembers the rising lump in his throat as he watched you say your goodbyes with shoko. he remembers the wave of fear that washed over him as he watched you turn your back from him, reminiscent of the event that took place when his best friend left him for good. he remembers the confession on the tip of his tongue as he looked down at you and into your sharp gleaming eyes, words he’s debated with himself for years over whether or not he was a coward or a hero in not saying.

and right now, as he stares at your confused and hurt expression, your back turned to him yet again, all those feelings wash over him and he feels as if it may be the former, because now he’s let his insecurity hurt you. but he also knows that whether he was a coward or hero then doesn’t matter now. he wouldn’t allow a repeat of what happened all those years ago. he wouldn't let himself hesitate.

he reached to grab your wrist, and you harshly recoiled, shooting him an angry glare from across your shoulder. “what the- hell, satoru? would you just-”

“i wasn’t flirting.”

“whatever. I don’t-”

suguru knew him better than anyone. shoko knows him better than anyone. you know him better than anyone.

“utahime? really? i would think that you know me better than that.”

the pout on his face seeped into his voice, and you further struggled in his grip. “things change with time, satoru. you can’t expect me-”

the distance was fine. satoru could do distance. but it was this misunderstanding that made his stomach churn uncomfortably. it was the fact that he seemed so unknown to you. that you seemed so unknown to him. who knew that such a minor misunderstanding would carry so much emotional baggage, invoke such strong reactions from the two of you?

“can’t use that excuse if i’ve always been in love with you.”

you immediately stopped fidgeting, staring at satoru’s serious expression with wide eyes. his pout settled into a deep frown, and you’re absolutely despising the fact that you can’t see his eyes with that stupid new blindfold. stupid time. stupid change.

“i’m in love with you,” he said again with a shrug. “and that never changed.”

silence. all you could do is continue to stare at him as he held your wrist. but then you inhaled sharply and satoru released his grip. you took another deep breath, and then…

“how the hell am I supposed to know something like that? it’s been over ten years, satoru gojo. everything feels different- you look different!- and you expect me to know you’ve been in love with me for how long?”

you ranted all your anger toward him as you jabbed a finger into his chest, while he continued to stare down at you with a frown and his hands now buried in his pockets. his lack of a reaction only added to your frustration, and you still felt as if you were staring at a stranger.

“take off that damn blindfold.”

his mouth drops into a small o for a moment, before he brings a hand to his face. it feels as if an agonizing amount of time passes as satoru slips the blindfold down from his eyes to hang over his neck. his hair falls into that familiar disheveled heap, and you’re immediately met with a familiar rush of anxiety rushing through your veins as you make eye contact with his blue ones.

big and bright, and staring down at you with so much longing. his hand stays on his blindfold, and the frown stays etched into his face, but you can finally see those eyes. the ones that sent a wave of warmth over you when they connected with yours. the ones you found yourself gazing at as you leaned your head against a desk, admiring them from a sideways angle as they glistened in a ray of sunlight. one’s you knew you could rely on, not because they belonged to the strongest or because of the power they held, but because they belonged to your best friend, to the boy that made your heart stutter.

and you’re too emotional finally seeing your satoru gojo to care about the fact that you were now sobbing into satoru’s chest in relief over something familiar, and you cried even harder when his arms wrapped around your frame, head resting sideways into your hair. and you felt stupid for breaking down over something so childish, so minor.

but maybe some things didn’t change and maybe some change was for the better. because you’ve had over ten years to figure yourself out and so did satoru, and with your decision to return home was your decision to return to satoru synonymous with it.

and you felt satoru finally smile a genuine and childish and familiar sort of smile, into your hair, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to care about how stupid you felt in that moment.

and that final unsorted piece of your life finally stopped nagging at you, as if satoru had exorcised a curse that lingered on your back these past ten years. those confusing and unidentifiable feelings you felt for satoru way back when. together, you’d be able to rebuild your relationship with satoru into the way it used to be all those years ago, not a single detail unknown, so you could put all those insecurities and fear to rest.

#juno answers!#in honour of jjk s2!#title is a hozier reference but not based entirely on the song </3 #ive edited this a thousand times and im STILL not satisfied. will revisit when i have a clearer mind #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo fluff #satoru gojo angst #satoru gojo headcanons #satoru gojo oneshot #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru headcanons #gojo satoru oneshot #jjk x reader #jjk oneshot #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen oneshot #gojo angst #gojo fluff

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scarsnfevers · 2 years ago

Text

Cherry Wine (18+)

summary: having a job that takes up all of your time caused a lot of stress. That's why your two friends Minho and Jisung have come up with something very special for your vacation together.

pairing: minho x fem. reader x jisung

genre: definitely smut

warnings: alcohol, threesome, orgasm denial, oral (f & m receiving), anal, double penetration, reader is called babygirl/angel/baby, praising kink, daddy kink (minho), hair pulling, unprotected sex

word count: ~7,3k

minors do not interact!

Having a job where you hardly got any rest was by now more than normal for you. You worked non-stop, even on weekends. Keeping important appointments or going out with friends was more of a rarity than the rule. All the more you were looking forward to your vacation, which was finally just around the corner.

It was early in the morning, the snow was high in front of the door when you stepped onto the terrace of your parent's house. Behind you, you put down your suitcase, which was full of sweaters, comfortable clothes, and your skiing equipment. Finally, the time had come. You were going to a Ski Resort with your two best friends Minho and Jisung to spend your two-week vacation in a log cabin on an idyllic lake.

You had planned such a vacation for a long time and now you three had finally found time.

A car turned into the street and unceremoniously stopped in front of your house. You were already approaching your friends when they got out of the car, which belonged to the oldest of the three of you. "Good morning." As a greeting, you hugged both of them. First Minho, the owner of the car, then Jisung. "So, ready for our adventure?" Grinned Jisung as Minho loaded your suitcase. "Absolutely." You nodded eagerly. "Can't wait." - "Then let's drive, the faster we'll be there." Minho euphorically flipped the trunk shut and encountered you with a smirk. You agreed and took your spot in the passenger seat while Jisung made himself comfortable in the back of the car. Minho got behind the wheel and finally looked at the two of you "Ready for the hottest vacation of our lives?" His wry grin made you giggle before you answered in unison with Jisung "Absolutely ready!"

The car started moving and soon you had left your hometown behind. You sat at your phone, checking the weather report "A snowstorm has been announced in the region in the coming hours." You blinked and looked at Minho. He looked intently at the road in front of him "Then we'd better hurry, we don't want to get stuck somewhere and snowed in the car." He said. The car accelerated on the open road that stretched lonely to the horizon. You leaned back and turned up the radio a little louder. Hopefully, you would make it to your destination before the blizzard.

❆

"Christ, what a snowstorm," Minho muttered to himself. You had almost reached your destination, but on the last kilometers, you were caught in the heavy snowstorm that you had announced earlier. You could hardly see the road in front of you, so the car was moving at a walking pace. "You have to turn right up ahead, where the lights are. Then we're there." You guided your best friend through the storm as well as possible. Minho finally managed to get you to your destination safely and in one piece. You could tell he was relieved to make it. He unbuckled his seatbelt and then looked at you "I'll quickly go do the registration and get the key. Wait here."

You hoped he would be back here before you get snowed in the car.

It took around twenty minutes for Minho to come back. Now you could finally unload your luggage and take it to the nearby cabin.

"WOW LOOK AT THAT!" Jisung's enthusiasm was hard to ignore as you stepped into your temporary home. And you were also very surprised when you walked through the front door after your buddy. "Better than expected." You raised your eyebrows and set your suitcase down next to you. You were greeted by the warmth of a fueled fireplace and the inviting ambiance of a two-story log cabin. While you were still peeling yourself out of your winter clothes, Jisung was already inspecting your cabin from head to toe "Guys, wow, look at this" he poked his head around the corner. "This kitchen is awesome, I'm sure we can cook well in here." You had to chuckle as your friend had the perfect comment for each and every room.

Minho stepped up next to you as he closed the door behind him "I see, Jisung likes it." Remarked the young man before looking at you. "Do you like it too?" It had been Minho's suggestion to go on such a trip. He had chosen the location and organized everything. You nodded at his question with a warm smile, "It's awesome. I can't wait to be here with you guys for the next few weeks. As long as the blizzard hopefully doesn't completely snow us in." Your words made Minho grin with satisfaction. "And even then, I'm sure we'll find something to do." You didn't take his words too seriously and dismissed them with a quiet laugh, "Yeah right."

You stepped into the open ambiance of the lodge and finally looked around a bit as well. You quickly decided on a room that had a wonderful view of the valley with its lake that stretched below the resort. Time was running and as you gradually settled into your temporary home as the smell of Jjajangmyeon rose to your nostrils as evening approached. Curious, you stepped downstairs to see who was inaugurating the kitchen. As you suspected, it was Minho.

For a moment you stopped in the doorway to the kitchen to look at your best friend. He must have just come out of the shower because his hair was still a little damp. Every now and then a drop or two of water found its way onto his black ribbed knit top, or onto his gray joggers, which he wore with it.

When Minho finally noticed you, you were still busy looking at your friend. "Hey Babo, how long are you going to stand there staring at me?" He considered you with a raised eyebrow. You blinked and rolled your shoulders back "It's rare to see such an attractive chef, I'll have to take my chances, huh?" You stepped up to help him cook. "So you find me attractive?" Minho inquired giggling, which caused your ears to turn slightly red. You knew this back and forth. It was a game of cat and mouse ever since you became friends. And every time you lost the game against him. Fleetingly you changed the subject while keeping your eyes on the stove, "Where's Jisung?" You wanted to know to which Minho clicked his tongue in amusement. He had won again "He's in the bathroom, just trying out the bathtub with whirlpool function." He replied, before adding. "You should try that one out too. It's really great." - "Later after dinner." You replied, still a little embarrassed by the conversation.

❆

"The food is brilliant, Minho." You sighed contentedly as all three of you sat at the table eating dinner. You had forgotten about the previous conversation in the kitchen by now. Jisung, who was sitting next to you, agreed with you, "Good thing we had the freezer with us. A pizza delivery guy would hardly have made it up here." He said before stuffing his mouth with the noodles in front of him the next moment. The idea of a pizza boy trying to drive up a snowy mountain on his scooter made you giggle in amusement, while Jisung was already continuing to talk. You listened to your best friend as the three of you ate together. "Hey how about we watch a movie later?" Jisung finally interjected to the group. "Hmm, sounds good." Minho said in response and you nodded as well. "Good idea."

After dinner, you cleared the table together and made sure the kitchen was clean again. Satisfied, you brushed a few strands of hair out of your face before leaving Minho and Jisung for a few minutes. You wanted to go to the bathroom before ending the evening with your two friends.

You retreated and headed into the large and really really nice bathroom with a towel and your favorite skin and hair products. You closed the door behind you and went to the large bathtub to fill it with water. In the meantime, you undressed, combed your hair and got rid of your makeup before you went into the warm water of the bathtub. A relaxed sigh escaped your mouth as you sank deep into the water, silently enjoying the moment. Outside, the blizzard was still raging as you looked out the window in front of you. Hopefully the weather had calmed down by tomorrow, or you would actually be snowed in. The thought was fleeting in your mind. However, you didn't want to keep Minho and Jisung waiting too long. Gently, you sat up in the bathtub to wash yourself and then climb out of the soothing water after you finished with everything. You dried yourself thoroughly from head to toe before slipping into a comfortable sweater and your favorite joggers. Now you were finally ready for movie night.

❆

After getting dressed in something comfortable you came downstairs to find Jisung and Minho already sitting on the couch in the open living room. They had made themselves comfortable and were talking about what movie you wanted to watch. "How about we take care of the snacks and something to drink first?" You interjected. The two men looked up at you. "Who wants to watch a movie without something to munch on?" You raised eyebrows. "Uh, good idea." Jisung agreed. However, it seemed like they forgot to include snacks and drinks on their list. Good thing they had you with them. "I've already taken care of it." You left the two unsuspecting to go into the kitchen.

All they could hear from the living room was the clinking of some glasses, porcelain and the crackling of plastic.

You finally stepped back into the living room with a large bowl of chips, three wine glasses and a matching wine bottle. You couldn't help but grin. The boys were astonished. "Wine? Did you have that in your suitcase?" Minho asked surprised. "Not just one bottle." You replied, giggling, as you placed everything on the couch table in front of you, as you made yourself comfortable between your two friends. "I didn't know you drink wine." Blinked Jisung, looking at you as he handed you a blanket to snuggle up in. "I don't. But the wine is really good. I drank it once with Hyunjin and Felix when they dragged me to a wine tasting." You explained. Minho, meanwhile, examined the bottle. "Cherry wine? Sounds pretty exotic." - "Tastes like it too. That makes it even better." You took the bottle from his hand to open it. Evenly, you divided the alcohol among the three glasses. "If it tastes just as good to you, I've taken precautions and have two more bottles up my sleeve." You mentioned casually. Jisung was the first to take one of the glasses. "Well, I'm curious about that." He said, swirling the wine lightly in the glass. You handed Minho the other and finally reached for your own. "Well, cheers then!"

❆

The bowl of chips was almost empty and so were your glasses. Probably this wouldn't have happened if the movie was so thrilling....or the wine tasted so good...

By now you had reached the second bottle. "I've never had such a good wine before." Remarked Minho, while you filled the glasses again. "Yes, it's great, huh?" You smirked with satisfaction and leaned back against the back of the couch. However, you felt yourself getting a little warm. Involuntarily, you brushed off the blanket that Jisung had given you earlier. Your buddy seemed to notice your discomfort. Jisung looked at you with his glass of wine in his hand "Are you alright?" He tilted his head slightly. He looked at you perhaps a little too long at that moment. You blinked fleetingly and answered evasively "Yeah, I uh, I think I'm just a little tense from all this stress at work." You explained, demonstratively grabbing your right shoulder. "Tense? Good thing I came along on this trip. I'm sure I can relieve that tension." Smiled the young man wryly. You raised your eyebrows before your brow furrowed with skepticism "Are you a masseur?" Your suspicion led Jisung to see this as a challenge of sorts. "No, but I've been told many times that I'm good at massages." You didn't know whether to trust that statement, but the alcohol in your blood made you brave. "All right, prove it." You took another sip from your glass before setting it down on the table in front of you. Your newfound way of countering Jisung's sayings had visibly surprised the young man. Normally you were not very good at that. He had no choice but to put his words into action. Jisung handed Minho his glass of wine before focusing on you "Okay uh, sit in front of me." He instructed you. You obeyed his instructions and placed yourself on the floor in front of him. "Like this?" You looked back at him. He had taken a seat behind you and cracked his hands before nodding at you. Your gaze slid back to the TV as you felt Jisung's warm hands on your shoulders. An unfamiliar feeling made itself known in that passing moment. A tingling sensation ran through your entire body. However, it was too short-lived to think about it further. The pleasant pressure that Jisung exerted on your tense shoulders made you sigh contentedly. It took quite a while before your muscles gradually began to relax. Still, it was a real relief. "For once you were right." You said with closed eyes. As you did so, you sank backwards slightly. You felt Jisung's legs on your back. "I didn't promise too much, huh?" You heard him reply. "Hmmmmmm." Did you only give of yourself. The soothing warmth surrounded you. Your head slowly sank against Jisung's thigh. "Pretty good." You murmured before you looked the young man headlong in the eyes.

He had paused as you looked on. "You okay?" Jisung asked. The questioning look in his eyes told you that you had probably gone a little bit too far. You blinked several times before slowly sitting up "Yeah, uhm, I'm fine. I feel much better already." You smiled briefly and sat back down on the couch with your friends. The heat had risen to your face in shame. Or was it the alcohol that turned your cheeks pink? Jisung, on the other hand, seemed to think nothing of it. He had refocused on the movie while holding his wine glass again. Meanwhile you took a sip from your glass of wine, but it went out shortly after. Your tasty source had dried up.

Still embarrassed by the little incident with you and Jisung, you lowered the glass from your lips. "Y/N?" Minho's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. "Huh?" You turned to him and gave your friend a questioning look. "What?" You asked as Minho looked at you strangely. Had he noticed that something was wrong with you? Did he see that little scene as you had looked at Jisung so devotedly?

"You have something in your face" he finally announced to you. But instead of telling you where the mishap had happened, you felt his thumb gently stroking your lips to relieve you of that little accident. His gesture was unexpected and caught you off guard. You didn't move as you watched him lick his own thumb "What?" He finally asked. "This wine is delicious, we shouldn't be so wasteful with it." There was a cheeky grin on his lips as you could feel the fleeting tingle in your body again. However, it was now concentrated in a very specific spot.

You swallowed slightly "Y-yes, right." You replied irritatedly. You were still warm from this confusing situation that was happening. Was it the alcohol that was clouding your senses and playing tricks on you?

You watched Minho take the almost empty bottle and put it to his lips. He took a big gulp before looking at you, "You wanna taste it?" You hadn't taken your eyes off your friend the whole time and still you start at him in disbelief when he asked you that question. "Lee fucking Minho." Your pulse quickened, you became unbearably hot, and the tingling in your lower stomach grew stronger. What were you doing here? What were your friends doing here? You all had a very close and intimate relationship, but moments like this were new to you. Minho leaned forward a bit toward you "This will surely help you forget all the daily stress at work." He looked into your eyes. It was hard for you to follow his words, because at that moment everything inside you was going crazy. The smell of wine on Minho's breath hit your nose as he came a little closer to you, "Let us help Y/N. You need some distraction." You heard Jisung's voice behind you, while you were still looking at Minho, not knowing what to do. So your best friends wanted to help you find some relaxation? You didn't quite know what that would lead to or what they had in mind, but you couldn't resist either.

"Okay," you breathed. That was the command Minho had been waiting for. He closed the void between you and put his wine-stained lips on yours. At first, it was unfamiliar. After all, you were kissing one of your best friends, but Minho quickly made you forget that thought as his tongue began to dance with yours.

The sweet taste of wine mingled in your mouth as he pulled you on his lap. His arms slid around your waist so that you could lean against him. A contented sigh escaped your mouth as his hands found themselves on your buttocks. It almost seemed as if your lips wouldn't part until you heard Jisung whine "Man you guys are really having fun, what about me?" Gently you released your lips from Minho's as your eyes drifted to your other best friend "Come here." You breathed. Jisung didn't need to be told twice. He moved over to you before you kissed him without hesitation. Jisung was also a very good kisser, but he was hungrier and wilder than Minho and his passionate tongue play. You struggled to hold onto your other friend's lap as Jisung shifted his weight. Your fingers found themselves in his hair as you wrapped your arms around him. Minho, who had a good view from his position, watched the two of you contentedly. He probably could have done this all night long.

Out of breath, you finally released your lips from Jisung's. "The couch is pretty small, don't you think?" You rankled, looking at your two friends. "Hmm, I guess we should go somewhere else then?" Minho said in response to your observation. You exchanged a quick glance with Jisung before Minho lifted you up without a warning. "Hold on." He grinned at you as you gasped. Automatically you wrapped your legs around his waist so you had a better grip. Minho decided to carry you to your room. It had the best view and the nicest bed.

You felt the soft sheets under you as he loomed over you. He propped himself above you and smiled contentedly "Is this better for our angel?" The blush rose to your face before you nodded. "Good." He breathed and gave you another heartfelt kiss that literally had you floating on cloud nine. Gently, Minho positioned himself between your legs. Although you were both still fully clothed, you felt his rock-hard cock when he pressed his pelvis against yours. You moaned into the kiss and wrapped your legs around his waist. Minho made an amused sound and slightly released his lips from yours "Is that how you need it, angel?" He breathed. You swallowed and stroked your fingertips over his upper arms. "Yes, Daddy." Your touch gave Minho goosebumps, making him sigh contentedly. "Our angel will have to be patient." He finally replied as he moved away from you. Surprised you sat up. "W-what, why?" You gulped. There was an unbending lust raging inside you just waiting to be tamed, and you should wait? Minho looked at Jisung, who had made himself comfortable at the other end of the bed. You noticed them exchange a few glances until Minho raised his voice, "I'll be right back." The grin on his face was not lost on you as he left the room. Confused your gaze wandered to Jisung "What's he up to?" To have such an intense moment cut short from one moment to the next was more than excruciating for you. Jisung shrugged his shoulders "Wait and see." He slowly rose from the bed to step in front of you. Your gaze slid up to him as he gently placed his fingers under your chin "We can have fun until then babygirl." He began to grin. The knot in your abdomen tightened. You licked your lips "Can we?" Tenderly your fingers began stroking the soft material of Jisung's jogger. Your touches did not go without a reaction on his part. The further you wandered up the pants with your hands, the bigger the bulge above became. Finally you had reached Jisung's waistband. But his hand stopped you "Not yet" his voice was soft like honey, which made you sigh "Why not?" You purred. You noticed his smirk "First it's your turn." Before you knew it, you were back in the springs of your bed. Gently, Jisung stroked the waistband of your joggers down "I've often wondered what you look like in your underwear." He murmured. The world began to spin around you. "Oh really?" You gasped softly. The weight of the bed shifted as you felt Jisung lay down on the bed. He had placed himself with his face between your legs. His warm breath began to caress the insides of your thighs. The young man gave a soft "Hmmm." before adding "even more I want to see you naked." His kisses that kept moving up to your sensitive bundle of nerves took you to another dimension.

"I bet you taste really good." Whispered Jisung as he spread more kisses around the waistband of your panties.

You bit your lower lip impatiently.

"Taste me." You whispered.

You felt your panties slowly sliding down your legs and his warm breath moving over your pubic bone. "Is it that bad?" He asked, just to keep you on tenterhooks.

"Please, Jisung." Your right hand wandered frantically from the bed linen to his hair to sink your fingers into it.

"Okay angel, relax, you can forget about all this stress."

As his lips touched your clit you moaned loudly. Your back arched into a slight hunchback, causing Jisung to gently wrap his arms around your thighs, so you couldn't escape.

His tongue began to circle around your clit while his lips sucked on your bundle of nerves every now and then. The pressure that built up inside your abdomen made you already completely wet. "Fuck Jisung." You moaned out loud. Your hips rolled rhythmically up and down, while his tongue danced tenderly over your clit.

You didn't know how long it had been since someone had touched you like this, so it was even more overwhelming for you. Your pelvis began to twitch uncontrollably under Jisung's tongue. "O-h my...fuck, I think I'm going to cum." You gasped, but just before you could find sweet release, Jisung pulled back "Don't cum babygirl." His face appeared in your blurry field of vision as you tried to hold back your orgasm. Jisung stroked your cheek gently before smiling "We don't want to end the fun too soon, do we?" You nodded in response before pulling him to you to kiss him. Your saliva began to mix together and you could taste your own sweet nectar as Jisung's tongue invaded your mouth. Your hands slipped under his gray hoodie, signaling the young man to finally get rid of it. "I want to see you naked too." You breathed on his lips, which made Jisung grin. "Then you shall."

Your closeness faded as he rose from the bed to remove his hoodie in front of you. You propped your forearms on the bed, trying to get a better look at him. And Jisung seemed to like it as well as your gaze slowly slid over his V-torso, lingering on his abs "You like it?" He grinned wryly before his hoodie landed on the floor. Your eyes met his "If I'd known you looked like that, I would have asked you to strip for me a lot sooner." A giggle escaped you at that. And Jisung laughed softly too "I think I have something better up my sleeve." His grip moved to the waistband of his joggers, which finally found its way to the floor, along with the boxers. Your eyebrows lifted slightly. The heat that rose in your cheeks was palpable. "Surprised?" Grinned Jisung as he found his way back to you. You swallowed and countered, "I've got something 'up my sleeve' too." With a fluid motion, you freed yourself from your thick sweater, which exposed your bare breasts. Only when you had set the garment aside did you catch a glimpse of Jisung's surprised expression. "You...didn't wear a bra all this time?" For the first time this evening he was now blushing too. The tables had turned. You smirked in satisfaction "No. I haven't." You confirmed his words.

"Fuck Y/N, you're dirty." He looked up at you, as you angled your legs so he could find room between them. Jisung propped himself above you and began to linger over your body with tender kisses. You closed your eyes and gave yourself completely to him.

His lips found their way to your already hard nipples. You moaned as he began to suck on them. As he did, his hard cock slowly stroked your entrance, causing you to whimper. "Jisung." Your arms locked behind his neck as he looked up at you "I need you. Now." You looked into your best friend's eyes. "I want to feel you." His pupils turned jet black as those words left your unholy mouth. "You sure you're ready for this angel? Maybe we should stretch you a bit with my fingers first?" But you just shook your head impatiently "No, I want you. Inside me." Your chest rose and fell with excitement, but what you didn't notice was Minho stepping back into the room. Only when you heard someone opening a wine bottle did you look around. "I see you've already prepared her really well Sungie." Minho stepped into your field of vision "Was he good to you babygirl?" You nodded out of breath while Jisung was still over you, gently caressing your neck. "Please." At that moment, you didn't know which of your friends you were actually talking to, but you didn't care. "Need you." Your pelvis pressed against Jisung's, but he made no move. Impatiently you let out an exasperated moan, which made Minho giggle "Patience baby." He sat down next to you and Jisung while holding the wine bottle. "We want to make it as nice as possible for you." He leaned towards you to put the wine bottle to your lips. The sweetness of the cherries reached your throat before you gulped down the wine as Minho sealed his lips with yours a moment later, tasting the flavor of the alcohol on his own lips. The kiss was short, but full of passion. Just as he was about to pull away, you held him to you "Please Daddy, tell Sungie to fuck me." You breathed. Your gaze fixed him so that he had to look at you. Full of amusement Minho began to grin "Is that what our angel wants?" He asked, to which you nodded impatiently.

"Then our angel shall have what she wants."

When you felt Jisung's rock-hard cock sliding into your tight wet hole, you literally lost your mind. Your thoughts faded away. Your head went completely blank. You moaned out loud as Jisung straddled you. "God you're so tight" It took you a moment to adjust to his length as he slowly began to move inside you.

Your focus now shifted completely to him. Your arms wrapped around him and pulled him to you "Oh my god Jisung." You murmured as you buried your face against his shoulder. "Yeah baby?" You could feel him twitching inside of you as his pace began to build up. "Don't stop."

Your breasts began to bounce up and down at the soon-to-be merciless pace Jisung has reached. "Look at her." Moaned the young man as he placed your right leg over his shoulder. His gaze slid briefly to Minho "So beautiful for us."

Minho agreed and stroked a few strands of hair out of your face. His fingertips tenderly danced over your chin, down to your neck, finally reaching your hard nipples which he gently kneaded between his thumbs. He knew exactly how much you liked this. You had told him about it once, when you were both quite drunk....

A loud animalistic moan escaped your mouth "Fuck, feels so good." You murmured, pushing your head back into the mattress. Jisung's arms which were wrapped around your leg, began to close tighter around it. "Fuck Y/N" he moaned, his fingertips pressing into your soft skin. You felt him getting closer to his orgasm as well. His hips began to jerk uncontrollably and with each thrust he grew harder inside of you. The thought of Jisung squirting into you and painting your inner walls completely white clouded your mind and brought you closer and closer to your own high. The tingling became more and more present "Please, let me cum!" You squealed out. But you were to be denied your orgasm for the time being. "Not yet angel." Jisung groaned out. "Hold it. I'm doing it too. Let's wait a little longer." His voice sounded strained as his movements became uneven, making you whimper. God how could you stand it?

Finally, Jisung released your leg and leaned down to give you a gentle kiss on the forehead. "How about we get Daddy Hyung involved?" He suggested to you. You were still quite out of breath as your gaze slid to your other friend. Minho had set aside the wine bottle and was looking at you intently. Jisung looked at him as well and began to grin as you squirmed under him to turn to Minho. He raised one of his eyebrows and gave you a questioning, yet challenging expression. You knelt next to him and slowly stroked your fingers over the black ribbed knit sweater, lingering on the zipper that had slipped down slightly. "May I?" You breathed, meeting his gaze. Minho's eyes darted over your face and lingered on your slightly swollen lips that Jisung had already been playing with. "Don't keep me waiting, angel." The sound of zipping cut through the room, while your legs still trembled. You had not yet fully digested Jisung's attack on you.

You exposed Minho's upper body with a swift movement of your hands and paused for a moment as you looked at him. Your counterpart began to grin "Do you like it baby? I know what I would like right now." Minho murmured to you and grabbed you by your wrists to pull you to your feet. He brought you to the foot of the bed and pushed you down onto the mattress so your pussy was more accessible to him. Minho didn't waste any time and began to penetrate you with two of his fingers. You moaned and clawed at the bed sheet. However, you hardly had time to breathe. You felt someone lightly pulling your hair to make you look up. Into your field of vision came Jisung's, still stone-hard cock. "Come on babygirl, don't forget about me." Grinned the young man at you as he pressed his cock against your lips.

Without hesitation, your mouth closed around his member. Jisung groaned and sank back into the bed "Such a good girl." He praised you. "Such a beautiful mouth. How good you're at it." He ran his hand through his hair as your head moved up and down. You couldn't hide your own moan as Minho inserted another finger inside you and deftly circled your clit with his thumb. That alone could have made you cum. You felt yourself clenching around his fingers. "Fuck Y/N, now I know why Jisung almost came so fast earlier." Gasped Minho. Your legs started to shake again as he found the sweet spot inside of you. A muffled moan escaped your lungs as Jisung's cock twitched deep in your throat.

Minho bent over you and gently kissed your back, tenderly caressing your skin and finally removing his fingers from your soaking wet hole, replacing them with his own cock. You didn't stop spoiling Jisung's member with your tongue as you felt Minho sliding inside of you, causing you both to groan loudly. He barely gave you time to get used to his cock. Minho was hungry, hungry to chase after yours and his own high. Slowly he began thrusting into you, holding you by your hips. You couldn't hide how much this turned you on. As a result, you began to suck harder on Jisung's cock. Your moans harmonized with each other. Every time Minho thrust harder into you, he earned a sweet reaction from you before Jisung joined in shortly after with your tongue play.

Minho's speed began to increase, causing him to let out a deep drawn out growl. You had a hard time keeping your head still and concentrating on Jisung's cock, because all you could focus on right now was Minho inside you, pounding into you relentlessly, hitting your weak spot every time. You almost started to gag as Jisung's member slid deep into your throat, causing the young man to moan loudly, "Oh my god Y/N." Your spit ran down his cock as you held back the gag reflex until Minho grabbed you by the hair and jerked you up to him. His left arm wrapped around you while he still held you by the hair with his other hand while you were seeing stars. "Such a good angel." His lips met your neck as he thrust into you graciously. You gasped as his teeth seared into your soft skin. Tears formed in your eyes from the sweet pain, rolling down your cheeks. Meanwhile, Jisung watched the whole spectacle, making sure with his own hand that he was not too far from his finale.

Minho's tongue finally began to caress his bite marks until he stroked up to your ear "Tell us what you want baby." He murmured. "How do you want to cum?" His words were like music in your ears, barely audible and yet so heavenly.

It was hard for you to form a clear thought at his devilish speed. Each thrust into your tight, dripping hole made you whimper as your vision blurred. It took you a moment before you could gradually answer.

"There's something w-what, fuck oh my, t-that I've always wanted to try." You gasped, biting your lower lip. "Tell us babygirl." Groaned Minho, burying his face against your shoulder.

"I want you both in my holes." Your voice was like an Aphrodisiac for the two men. Minho moaned and pulled you even closer to him so that it almost took your breath away "Please, please don't make me wait." You panted and effortfully lifted your head to look at Jisung, who was looking at you with his cock in his hand in surprise. Minho groaned, still holding you tightly. His thrusts slowed down, which is why you took a breath for a moment. "If that's what our angel desires, then she shall have it." He growled softly and slowly let go of you. Your legs were already pure pudding, which is why you shakily made your way back to the bed, only to land in Jisung's arms. He welcomed you with a smile and brushed your hair out of your face "Hey baby." You had to smile and climbed over him "Hey Sungie." Carefully you propped yourself up on his torso while Minho also made his way to the bed and positioned himself behind you. His warm chest touched your back so he could look at you and Jisung. "Are you sure you want this?" He asked again and kissed you on the cheek. You didn't have to think long. You were sure. "Yeah, absolutely." You breathed, snuggling up to him. Between your legs, your nectar was already oozing down, wetting Jisung's cock, which was twitching longingly. He couldn't wait to be inside your tight pussy again.

Minho moved away from you while Jisung put his arms around you and pulled you down to him. He captured you in a long passionate kiss as he slowly slid into you. You felt every inch inside you, every twitch and vein of his cock against your throbbing walls. You moaned softly, melting into Jisung as he slowly thrust into you. Meanwhile, Minho was preparing your other hole for his own cock. You felt his finger, moistened with spit, running over your entrance. He gave you the time you needed before he gently pushed his finger into your tight hole. This new feeling made you gasp in the kiss, which is why you abruptly released your lips from Jisung's. "Hey shhh, it's alright Angel." Tenderly the young man stroked your cheek. "Minho will do it slow and carefully, so you can get used to it." He breathed before Jisung kissed you again. The heat rose to your face, but you tried to relax. At first, it was uncomfortable and strange, but after a few minutes passed, you got used to the new feeling. You sighed softly, letting yourself drift. With each successive thrust of Jisung and the movements of Minho's finger, the knot in your abdomen began to tighten. Your moans grew louder as you got closer to your high.

"Hey Angel." Minho's voice brought you back to reality. "Are you ready for my cock?" Your eyes opened and you had to gasp. "So ready." You answered him. You finally wanted to feel him. You didn't know what was coming, but you couldn't wait any longer. Just like Minho.

You sucked in your breath sharply as he penetrated your ass. At first, it was pain that made itself felt, which is why you stiffened, but Jisung's fingers finding their way to your clit quickly made you forget. Minho remained in his position and gave you enough time to relax again. The distraction Jisung gave you was just the right thing.

"Is that good baby?" His fingers circled your clit as he began to thrust into you faster. Your head went completely blank. You were a fucking mess. With Jisung in your tight wet pussy and Minho in your ass, you could hardly think straight. "Oh my god." Your face buried itself against Jisung's shoulder. The tingling was now clearly noticeable. You wouldn't last much longer.

Your pussy was literally sucking in Jisung's cock, causing him to increase his speed and groan out "God Y/N you feel so good."

And Minho also gasped behind you as he began thrusting into you. If this was heaven, you had definitely found it. You clenched around Jisung's cock as your ass was completely stretched out by Minho's member. Your whole body began to tremble as Jisung's fingers relentlessly massaged your clit. Your pelvis twitched incessantly, which is why Minho reached out to hold you in place. "Please don't stop-" you gasped, burying your face in the pillow next to Jisung's head. Still, he had you wrapped tightly in his arms so you couldn't escape his cock. He snuggled up to you, which made you look at him. Your eyes were filled with tears as you finally wanted to find your release. He put his hand gently on the back of your neck and looked at you with a smile "It's okay Angel, let go. Cum for us." He breathed and pulled you into a passionate kiss. At that moment, all the weight fell off of you. All the stress that had accumulated in you over the past few months fizzled out the moment your orgasm burst upon you.

"Fuck, g-gonna cum!" You were glad you had a lonely cabin in the mountains because otherwise, someone would definitely have heard you screaming.

Minho and Jisung sped up once again as your high took you over completely. Your whole body twitched and started shaking as you let out a mixture of screams and moans as the knot in your abdomen abruptly loosened. You buried your face against Jisung's shoulder while your two friends helped you savor your high to the end.

Your tight holes pulsated while Minho and Jisung were still chasing their own high. You could barely hold on as Jisung fucked your sensitive pussy at a merciless pace. "Fuck, I'm close." He moaned loudly. His fingers eased off your clit to give him a better grip on your body. A few more thrusts followed until the young man finally came inside you with a loud curse. His cock twitched inside you and filled your pussy with his cum to the last drop. Your legs trembled tirelessly while Minho was still penetrating your ass. "Shit you two look really hot." He grinned and slapped your right buttcheek. You groaned out and began to carefully lean over Jisung so he could gasp for air too. "Is that so?" You panted in response to Minho's observation. "Does Daddy like that?" You felt his cock twitch at those words. "Hmm Daddy really likes it." Groaned Minho before his head sank into his neck. His grip on your hips tightened and his pace increased. "Tell me angel, where do you want me to cum? In your sweet ass or should I cum in your tight pussy with Sungie's cum?" Both options were so tempting. Everything was still spinning around you, which is why you closed your eyes "Fuck me in the pussy." You moaned softly. "Fuck your cum in me."

After one last thrust into your ass, he slid out of you to penetrate your wet and cum-filled hole right after.

Minho's release came suddenly and with a loud moan. His warm semen mixed with Jisungs as he could no longer hold himself up as his cock twitched inside you, caressing your inner walls. You felt Minho leaning against you as he was completely out of breath.

The room filled with gasps and three friends panting for air.

It took you a while to finally find the strength to lay your head on Jisung's chest. His rose and fell just as out of breath as yours. "Fuck, that was amazing." You murmured exhaustedly as Minho slowly slid out of you to join you. Jisung put his arm around you while Minho snuggled up to you from behind and tenderly kissed your shoulder "I hope our angel is feeling better now." On your skin, you could feel him smiling. You had to giggle and replied to him "Much better, thanks to you."

"We should do this more often." Remarked Jisung. "Whenever Y/N feels stressed." You had to laugh exhaustedly at his words. "Sounds good, I'm in."

Happy and content, the three of you snuggled up to spend the rest of the night together.

You would take care of the mess later.

You made it! Thank you reading! Please reblog and comment if liked this oneshot 🍒

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mamirhodessxox · 8 months ago

Note

Hey there, would it be possible to get a cody fic? Length and type of writing is up to you but the prompt is "Cody meets your mom for the first time and is a bit nervous"

(Don't ask me why that came to mind I just imagine him super cute and nervous XD)

Nervous

Black Hair!Cody Rhodes x Fem!Reader

S/N= Sisters Name

M/N= Mothers Name

L/N= Last Name

Y/N= Your Name

Desc: Cody is meeting Y/N’s mother for the first time since their relationship bloomed & he’s feeling just a little bit nervous & is soon reassured.

🏷️ list: @alyyaanna @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @agent-dessis-posts @adollonyourshelf @mini-rhodes @southerngirl41

Contents: Fluff, Cussing, Y/N’s mom showing off embarrassing childhood pictures, Cody being a sweetheart <3

{~I'm very serious with you guys interacting with my writing!!!! it would make me so happy & excited, the more comments & reposts the more inspiration i have to write :) likes and comments are strongly appreciated so please COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT COMMEENNTTT the more comments the more content <3!!!~}

Cody was rarely ever nervous for anything, but once you two began dating he became nervous to meet your mother especially since that was the only parental figure within your life. Your mother was someone who was never easily impressed, she knew if certain friends were good enough to be your friends or not simply by the vibe they bring to her home. He only spoke with her briefly over a face-time you were having with her over the summer and she seemed like a nice lady but now that the holidays were rolling by she had brought it upon herself to have you two stay over for Christmas and Christmas eve. At first he was more than happy to accept the invitation and even cleared his entire schedule.

But then the months rolled by faster and faster & boom, December 23rd hit and because she lived across town you two decided to take a road trip to her house. The entire car was filled with silence beside his shaking breath and hefty mumbled of “fuck..” at first it was fine but when you had tried taking a nap it became slightly irritating “sweetheart what’s wrong?” Cody turned his head with a flushed red look on his face “I’m fucking terrified to meet your mother doll.” A chuckle rolled from your tongue as he finally confessed as to why he had been freaking out “Cody babe you’ll be fine. You met her before” He shook his head “No I had a brief interaction with her over a screen that’s different baby, She’s making me rethink me choices in life like this tattoo & choice in career and she hasn’t even said anything yet. I’ve heard your stories Y/N.” She laughed shaking her head and run her fingers through his black hair “Baby you’re overthinking it she doesn’t judge off of tattoos relax.”

Cody sighed as he realized they had just pulled into her driveway and pinched the bridge of his nose after tugging the keys out of the ignition and staring down at his lap “Baby if she hates me I’m so sorry.” You laughed and took off your seatbelt “Baby she won’t hate you relax.” Cody sighed opening the trunk after he got out of the car while you went up to her mothers door knocking on it while he grabbed their suitcases & bags of gifts for Your cousins & nieces since her sisters had become parents a few years ago. Your mother opened the door & smiled widely hugging her youngest child “Babygirl! I missed you so much I was almost convinced you forgot about me!” You smiled brightly and hugged her mom as Cody just made it to the porch and wiped off his clammy hands and took a deep breath holding out his hand

“You must be who swiped up my daughter.” She spoke in a serious tone which even had you concerned and probably cause Cody to shit bricks. “Oh I’m just joking baby come here! Give me a hug.” She smiled widely and pulled Cody into a big hug while he smiled and sighed out in relief before wrapping his arms around her “It’s wonderful to meet you Mrs L/N.” Her mother smiled patting his back before guiding him inside while he carried in the suitcases “I hope you don’t mind pizza tonight I was quite unprepared and all of the food being made will be for christmas.”

You shook your head “Mama don’t worry it’s fine, Cody & I can go to the store tomorrow and whip something up for Christmas eve don’t worry.” Her mother smiled cupping your face in her hands “You’re too sweet dear, Cody sweetheart you & Y/N will be sleeping in her old room okay? It’s down the hall the last door to your right.” He smiled nervously and hustled upstairs with the luggage while your mother took you to the Christmas tree to put away all the presents you & Cody had brought during the trip over to the house. “He’s a sweet boy Y/N i can tell he has love for you.” You smiled from ear to ear while pushing strands of your own hair out of your face as you thought of your boyfriend “He is the best isn’t he mama?”

Cody came downstairs & nervously sat on the couch while your Sister had just walked into the house making your mother get up and help her get settled in. Cody smiled over in your direction as you got up and stood between his legs as his arms wrapped around your waist “One direction?” He teased at your bedroom that was filled with boy band posters & teen magazines you owned when you were in middle school and high school “Shutup.”

You laughed out as he pressed a soft kiss against your collarbone, Cody got up as S/N made her way into the living room while her husband put away their suitcases while the kids scampered around hugging your leg “Auntie Y/N!!” You grinned widely fixing your attention onto the little ones while S/N & Cody introduced themselves to each other “You must be Cody! It’s nice to meet you finally!” Cody smiled shaking her hand “It’s amazing to meet you too S/N! I hear a lot about you & the kids.” S/N grinned as her husband shook Cody’s hands while they all got to know each other.

For the remainder of the night they all munched down on pizza & laughed about their old family memories, “Mrs L/N Is it alright if I get a drink from the kitchen.” Cody questioned while your mother smiled “Of course Cody! My home is your home you welcome yourself to anything you’d like sweetheart and don’t call me L/N I feel old! Call me M/N!” He smiled nodding his head “Yes Ma’am.” He got up & went into the kitchen seeing you bake Christmas cookies with the girls while he got himself a drink. He watched as you interacted with the kids & helped wash their hands while he pointed out your failed attempt of a santa clause cookie “What happened here?” You sighed jokingly “I ruined Santa.” He snorted looking over at you while the kids ran off as he hummed wrapping his hands in your hair while you admired his black hair before kissing him “Thank you for being so good to me Doll.” You smiled before kissing his cheek “No thank you, this means more than a lot to me Codes.” He smiled and kissed you once more before you two called it a night & went to bed.

The next morning it was finally Christmas Eve you noticed Cody wasn’t in bed with you & then you heard muffled chuckling from downstairs followed with your Mom telling some sort of story so you made your way downstairs and saw Cody sitting next to your mother on the couch while the kids were playing & running around & immediately saw the old photo book your mother owned and knew she was showing off your childhood photos up to your high-school graduation “She was such a talented girl.” Your mother sighed while Cody smiled nodding in agreement before turning his head looking over at you

“Goodmorning baby, I didn’t wanna wake you so I let you sleep in for a little bit.” You smile groggily and shook your head before getting on the couch and lying your head down in his lap “Don’t worry it’s fine.” Your mother smiled as she looked at you two & showed you one of the photos they were looking at which was your first month of college sitting in a dorm with your roommates pre gaming for some sort of party “Y/N was a major party girl when she went to college” Cody raised a brow “You? Partying? This is news to me.” You smacked his chest lightly while he laughed it off.

For the remainder of your stay at the house you both help make dinner for Christmas & mainly watch as he bonded with your mother & nieces & cousins, If you didn’t know then that he was your soulmate for the rest of your life well now you knew. <3

xtripleiiix’s Masterlist

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svechnikovvv · 2 years ago

Text

wildest dreams

pairing: trevor zegras x fem!reader

warnings: just general profanity, but if there’s anything, let me know (:

summary: a week with trevor alone can lead to much more

a/n: in a recent fan interaction, trevor said his favorite taylor swift song is wildest dreams, so i wanted to do something based off of that. his spotify wrapped top artist is also taylor swift, so i mean, c'mon. no proofreading because we die like men. also wanted to say i have a christmas band concert coming up and i’ve been putting off practice to finish this for you all 🫶🏻

masterlist: here

he said, “let’s get out of this town

drive out of the city, away from the crowd”

i hear my phone buzzing on my nightstand and i ignore it and for a brief moment, it stops. then it starts buzzing again and i groan, looking to see who’s calling me. i see trevor’s name on the screen and i answer.

“hello?” i ask, voice groggy with sleep

“unlock your door” is all he says before hanging up

“wha-” i get out of the warmth of my bed and make my way down the hall to the front door. i unlock the locks and sure enough, trevor is standing there with his hands shoved in his hoodie pockets. he looks up at the sound of the door opening and a small smile graces his face when he sees me.

“trev, why the hell did you wake me up?” he slides by me and into my aparment.

“yeah, just make yourself at home,” i grumble to myself, shutting and locking the door back. trevor makes himself comfortable on my couch and i lean against the only recliner in my living space.

“come with me,” he blurts out, finally looking up at me with hopeful eyes.

“go where?” he shrugs

“wherever. i just want to get away”

“you do know it’s 2 in the morning right?” i take a seat on the recliner and he nods at my question.

“then why do you want to just up and leave? can't this wait until morning?” he plays around with his fingers. a habit i’ve noticed he does. he’s anxious.

“there’s just so much going on here and i need a break.”

“but why do you want me to go?”

“i figured you could use a break, too. and besides, you’re my bestfriend.” right. bestfriend.

“hypothetically, let’s say i agree. how long are you planning on being away?”

“i was thinking a week. maybe?” he scratches the back of his neck and awaits my answer.

“you already have a suitcase packed in your trunk, don’t you?” he smiles at me

“you know me so well, y/n” i sigh and stand up, heading to my room. he follows suit and when we’re in my room, he takes a seat at the spinny-chair by my desk. i walk over to my closet and grab out my suitcase and plop it on my bed, unzipping it. for a minute, trevor sits there and watches me as i pack the clothes i’ll need.

then when i take a glance behind me at him, he’s spinning around. a small smile makes its way onto my face and i turn back to my suitcase.

“don’t spin too much, z. you’ll get dizzy” he stops at my words and goes back to watching me.

“did you pack that green dress?” i furrow my brows and look at him.

“it’s late fall. why do i need a dress?” he shrugs

“what if we want to go to dinner?” i roll my eyes and head to my closet, pulling out the exact dress he’s talking about. i set it aside, knowing i’d have to hang it up in his car so it won’t wrinkle.

“nice hoodie,” he says and i furrow my brows then look down at one of his hockey hoodies that i stole.

“you gave it to me one day and never asked for it back. so i just kept it” i see his face go a bit red and i go back to packing.

once i was done packing my clothes and shoes (which was only a pair of heels and my converse), i grab one of my tote bags hanging up and pack everything else. like my keys, wallet, etc. once that was done, i unplug my charger and grab my favorite blanket to use in the car. trevor insists on taking my luggage and we make our way to his car.

he sets my things in the trunk alongside his and i quickly hang up the dress on the hook above the door on the passenger side.

once trevor and i got situated in the car, which included seat warmers on max power and heat on, we were on the road. i laid my seat back just a little and cozied into my blanket.

“have you thought of a destination yet?”

“i was thinking my hometown?”

“you’re the one driving, not me.” he chuckles and i start to doze off. maybe an hour later, i'm being gently shaken awake.

“y/nnnnnnn” i hear a soft voice call out and i start to wake up a bit from my amazing nap.

“jesus?” i hear the person laugh and i open my eyes and adjust them to the harsh lights. i see trevor crouching in front of me and it appears that we’ve stopped at a gas station.

“there she is. hey sleepyhead” he has a soft and genuine smile on his face and i’m sure i look rough.

“what are we doing?” i croak out and he stands up, holding out a hand for me to take. i push my blanket off of me and the cold, boston air immediately hits me, but i take his hand nonetheless.

“figured we should make a pit stop. you know, get some snacks and i gotta refill the tank.” i nod and we head inside the gas station. i drop trevor’s hand and make my way over to the drinks and grab two gatorades. i scan up and down the aisles and grab a bag of blue doritos and chocolate covered pretzels. because who doesn't love them?

i then feel two hands place themselves on my waist and if i didn't smell trevor's familiar cologne, i would've panicked.

"you ready to check out?" i nod

"shit! i left my wallet in the car. can you hold my stuff while i go get it?" i go to walk away but trevor stops me.

"i'll pay for it" he says without a concern in the world.

"no no. i can't possibly make you do that, trev" he shrugs

"just pay me back when we get in the car" i huff out a fine and we head to the counter and the cashier rings up our items. trevor then pays for his gas and we head back to the car. i take the bag of snacks and slide back into the warmth of the car. i reach into the backseat and grab my tote bag and pull my wallet out of it. trevor finally finishes pumping the gas and slides back into the driver's seat.

"you gonna knock out again?" he asks me, a playful smile on his face. i just shrug.

"maybe. but here," i hold out the money to him and he shakes his head no.

"but you-"

"it was a trick so i could pay for you" i shake my head and figured i'd just put the money into his wallet when he wasn't looking. we're back on the road and i get warm under my blanket again, thus resulting in me taking another nap.

another hour later and i’m shaken awake again.

“y/n, hey. we’re here” i crack my eyes open and look at trevor and he has a big smile on his face. we’re outside of a hotel and trevor takes our luggage inside as i follow suit, blanket wrapped around me and all. when we got to our room, i see there’s only one bed but i could care less about that right now. i wanted to sleep.

i walk over to the bed and fall onto it, closing my eyes.

“still tired?”

“you woke me up at 2am, of course i’m tired” he laughs and sits beside me at the edge of the bed. he pushes a stray hair out of my face and smiles down at me.

“you get some sleep. okay? i’m gonna be right here if you need me.” i nod my head as trevor gets up and sits on the other side of the bed. i hear the tv click on and i doze back off again after that.

i thought, “heaven can’t help me now”

nothing lasts forever

but this is gonna take me down

spending a week alone with trevor was as difficult as i expected it to be. everyday we spent together, the more my feelings for him grew. and we had to share a bed? what is this, a nicholas sparks movie?

as much as i tried to shove those feelings away, a part of me liked this little trip. the selfish part of me. the part of me that got used to waking up entangled with trevor every morning. the part of me that loved his simple forehead kisses he’d give me. but every now and then, it’s okay to be selfish. so i cherished every moment, every passing glance, every touch with him. because nothing lasts forever.

i knew that, when we went back to boston, things would go back to normal. and i dreaded that moment so much. trevor zegras was my weakness.

he’s so tall and handsome as hell

he’s so bad, but he does it so well

i can see the end as it begins

my one condition is…

there was no denying that trevor was a sight for sore eyes. any room he stepped in, he had heads turning to look at him. some even giving him a double-take. pretty sure that one time when we were out, someone stopped him to ask him if he was a model.

don’t get me started on his attitude. he had a way of convincing me to do things with him. like one time, we stole a keg from some frat party. and nobody, to this day, suspects it was him because he doesn’t really talk to any of the frat guys. how we got away with it is still a mystery to me.

i knew that, on that night, things were going to get messy for me. that night is the night i realized how i truly felt for trevor. the fog was no longer there and the skies were crystal clear now. i was falling hard for trevor and i’m afraid he doesn’t reciprocate.

they always say you miss the shots you don’t take, but for now, i think i’ll be a benchwarmer. until i get some liquid courage, i’ll be on the sidelines. i did, however, make a promise to myself.

don’t get too attached.

say you remember me

standing in a nice dress

staring at the sunset, babe

red lips and rosy cheeks

say you’ll see me again

even if it’s just in your

wildest dreams, ah, ha

i was afraid for this week to end. every rule i set for myself was out the window. i was only setting myself up for failure by agreeing to go with him on this trip. we would be together for a week and then after it was over, we’d go back to how things were.

i will admit though, as much as i hate the emotions i’m feeling, trevor planned some nice things. i’m glad i ended up packing that dress.

***

i was sitting on the hotel bed, clicking through channels when trevor sent me a text.

be ready in 30

oh, and wear that green dress (;

i set my phone down and smile, shaking my head. I walk over to the closet and grab the green dress hanging up, slipping it off the hooks of the hanger. i head into the bathroom, changing into it. once that was done, i just applied some mascara and lip gloss, keeping it light and simple, but still elegant. i pop in the earrings my grandmother passed down to me, as well as her ring and a necklace. all that was left was my heels.

i sit down on the edge of the bed and struggle to get the heels on. after many failed attempts though, they were strapped and i stand up. walking back into the bathroom, i look at my reflection in the mirror and softly smile. not often did i get dolled up, but when i did, i felt amazing.

i walk back into the room and just in time to see trevor walk through the door. when he looks at me, he goes quiet. his eyes take in all of me and he walks towards me, so that we're less than a foot apart from each other.

"y/n, you look... wow. i- wow." i chuckle softly and start to walk to the door.

"come on" he snaps out of his trance and grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together. we walk down the hallway and step into the elevator. he turns to face me.

"i do mean it. you look amazing" i give him a smile

"you don't look too bad either, zegras" he laughs and my heart melts. i always love when he smiles or laughs because his eyes crinkle. the satisfaction of being the one who made him laugh is a major reward. the elevator door then opens and we step off, preparing ourselves for the harsh new york air that's awaiting for us.

we successfully make it to his car and heat is immediately turned on.

"aux is all yours tonight," he shoots me a wink and backs out of the parking lot. i hook my phone up and pick a song i knew would get a reaction out of him. the faint tune of you belong with me starts to play through the car speakers and trevor gasps. he then turns the volume up some more and i laugh. he starts to sing along as he drives.

"come on, sing with me, y/n!" the chorus starts to play and i join in singing.

"if you could see that i"m the one who understands you, been here all along so why can't you seeeeee you belong with meeeee. you belong with me!" we both shout together and i only wish trevor can pick up on the hint i'm dropping by playing this. i'm brought out of my thoughts by the music being turned down and i look over at trevor. he never turns down taylor swift.

"hey, what's going on in that pretty mind of yours?" i look over at him and he's focusing on the road.

"nothing too important. it'll resolve itsellf" he absentmindedly nods and then i get out of my spunk and turn the radio back up.

"ready for the next song?" i ask and he nods

"hit me with your best shot, l/n" love story starts to play and he laughs.

"i love this song!" i knew he did. it's why i played it. he then starts to belch out his lungs, word for word and i just watch with a smile on my face. he looks at me and his smile widens.

"what?" i shake my head

"you're something else, trev" the smile is still on his face as he looks back at the road, still singing along.

"he knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring and said, 'marry me juliet, you'll never have to be alone. i love you and that's all i really know. i talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress, it's a love story baby just say yes'!" he continues to sing along as i watch with amusement and when the song ends, another one starts. the perks of queing songs.

we continue to sing taylor swift songs and then we finally arrive at the restaurant. it's a nice, hole-in-the-wall place. trevor then rushes around to my door and opens it, holding out his hand.

"m'lady" i take his hand

"why thank you, kind sir" i laugh and then we head to the restaurant.

after trevor and i stuffed ourselves to the brim, he had somewhere to take me. he said he "knew a spot." he wasn't wrong. trevor pulled into a clearing that overlooked the small town and the sun was setting perfectly against the scenery. i stand near the edge of the drop-off and just take in everything with admiration. a shiver then goes through my body and trevor speaks up from behind me.

"cold?" i nod and he walks off to the car, grabbing something, then coming back. i feel something warm drape over my shoulders and i melt into it. it was his suit jacket. i slip my arms through the sleeves and wrap it around myself.

the headlights of trevors car shining on us and the faint sounds of night changes by one direction playing in the back really set the scene. i turn my attention from the sunset to look at trevor to see him already looking at me. he has a soft smile on his face and it makes me smile.

"why are you looking at me like that you goof?" i laugh and his smile grows wider, if that's even possible. he holds out his hand.

"may i have this dance?" i nod and take his hand in mine. we sway to the music and i want to capture this moment and keep it frozen in time.

***

i smile at the faint memory. i hope he treasures that moment as much as i do.

i said, "no one has to know what we do"

his hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room

and his voice is a familiar sound

nothin' lasts forever

but this is gettin' good now

i was in the midst of cooking myself dinner when i hear three knocks at my door.

"just a second!" i call out, washing my hands. i then walk over and open my door and see trevor standing there.

"trevor, what are you doing here?" i furrow my brows and he places a hand over his heart in mock hurt.

"i was expecting more enthusiasm from you, y/n" i roll my eyes and he walks in like always.

"mmm. something smells good"

"yeah, i was in the middle of making dinner" he takes a seat on my couch and i go back to cooking.

"whatcha making?" he asks as he turns the tv on, flipping through channels.

"first, tell me what brings your unannounced visit. not another road trip, is it?" he briefly looks at me before looking back at the tv.

"can't i just come see my favorite person ever?" i shrug even though he can't see me.

"i suppose you can" i hear his footsteps making their way over and i look behind me to see him sitting on the small counter i have. he starts to kick his legs back and forth as he watches me move around my small kitchen.

"now, what're you making?"

"chicken alfredo" i say and his face lights up

"yes, you can stay for dinner" he does a small victory dance and i laugh. he continues to talk to me while i cook, and when i'm done, he makes himself a plate. the next action was so quick, it caught me off-guard. he places a kiss on my forehead, thanking me for dinner, and takes a seat at the small table i have, digging into his food. i stand there processing the action before i make myself a plate as well, joining him at the table. we eat in silence for a few minutes before trevor speaks up.

"mom says she wants you to come back again" i laugh and look at him

"already?" he nods

"i swear she loves you more than me. hell, even ava and griffin miss you" i smile

"they just can't resist the y/n charm" he rolls his eyes playfully before taking another bite of his food.

"she says you're welcome there anytime"

"will keep that in mind" we continue to converse and when we're done eating, we go sit on the couch. i watch whatever trevor puts on tv, and we watch it in silence for a good while before he's the first to break the silence yet again.

"y/n, there actually was a reason i came here today" he pauses the movie and i look at him. he's looking at his feet and i can tell he's anxious.

"trev, you can tell me anything. okay?" he looks at me before looking back at his feet, nodding.

"there was a reason i asked you to accompany me last week" i sit up and turn my body to face him. my silence is enough for him to continue. he then faces me and finally looks me in the eyes. i don't think i've ever seen him this serious in a while and i'm curious as to what he's going to say.

"y/n, i like you," he pauses. "scratch that. i'm in love with you. i asked you to come with me last week because i can't get enough of you. i couldn't possibly imagine spending a week away from you. i thought that a week away with you would be a hint to show you how i felt, because everybody says actions speak louder than words, but nothing happened. so here i am, pouring my heart out to you."

out of everything i was expecting, it wasn't that. i'm at a loss of words and i can see the doubt filling his eyes. he starts to stand up.

"thank you for dinner." he starts to leave but i finally figure out how to talk.

"trevor," he turns to look at me. "you didn't give me a chance to talk" is all i say before he's seated back in front of me.

"trevor, i've fallen for you, and i've fallen hard. i thought that you didn't feel the same way back. i kept telling myself that i shouldn't get attached because after that one week with you was over, that's all it would be. over. nothing would happen. and for a second, i thought i was right. but now you're here telling me you feel the same? i don't know how to react. i'm happy, over-the-moon, elated, whatever other adjective there is." a smile as big as the cheshire cat's graces his face and he places both his hands on either side of my face.

"can i?" i nod and he gives me a kiss that is nothing short of amazing. the kiss you hear about in books and see in movies. we then pull away and he rests his forehead on mine.

"i can't tell you how happy you make me," he softly whispers, bringing a smile to my face.

trevor ended up staying the night with me. not thinking much of it, i let him use the hoodie i stole of his and some men’s grey sweatpants i thrifted. he discarded his previous clothes somewhere in my room. we fell asleep facing each other as he ran his hand through my hair.

however, the next morning, i woke to someone knocking on my door. i sleepily make my way to the door, seeing who it is before opening it. when i see that it’s my bestfriend, i open the doors and am immediately hit with the harsh sunlight. i squint my eyes at her and she laughs.

“morning sleepyhead”

“hey, why are you here so early?” she holds out a bag

“early christmas present since i’m about to hit the road home for the break” i take the bag from her and just my luck, trevor decides to wake up.

“y/n?” he calls out from my room and my bestfriend gives me a look.

“you had someone over last night?” i nod and she gasps. “you whore!” i shush her and then i hear footsteps making their way to me.

“y/n, come back to bed. i’m cold & you’re a nice heater” trevor pouts then wraps his arms around my waist, resting his head on my shoulder.

“oh. my. god. it’s happening. okay, i better get going. nice to see you trevor. y/n, you have a lot of explaining to do. bye lovebirds!” she calls over her shoulder before walking off and i shut the door. i turn in trevor’s arms to face him and his eyes are still closed, a sleepy smile on his face.

“you’re lucky i like you” i say, kissing his nose as i walk back to my bedroom. trevor’s hold on me doesn’t falter though, so it’s like i’m dragging him. i set the bag down and then climb back in bed, trevor clinging to me. he rests his head on my chest and soon his breaths even out, letting me know he’s asleep.

tags: @goldenbrokenheart

a/n: i know i didn’t continue the whole song, but i felt i was at a good stopping point (:

#trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras #nhl hockey #nhl #anaheim ducks

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