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neocrias · 1 month

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diet pepsi - kim mingyu

synopsis: When a ride home becomes something much more... interesting.

Your interactions with Mingyu have been getting weird during the last group meeting. There’s a certain tension in every kindness he does for you—it could be you overanalyzing friendly acts, or maybe Kim Mingyu wants you as much as you want him.

pairing: mingyu x reader wc: 3,6k

warnings: unprotected sex; kinda public car sex; dry humping; figering (f receiving); cock riding; mingyu is a teasing little shit; very slightly size kink; mentions of alcohol; inappropriate language. MDNI.

You don't know when you started feeling this way about Mingyu, but lately he's been... different. He's hot, but you already knew that. Everybody did.

Mingyu is tall, tanned, has a charming smile and beautiful sparkling eyes that goes along with the sweet and patient personality he always has when he's with you and the boys. But something is different.

You don't know what happened, but Mingyu's every attitude seemed different tonight and what would normally be “your friend's caring and concerned way” was making you crave his attention in a way you've never felt before.

You felt your face heat up when he took the beer bottle from your hand and, before you could even try, Mingyu opened it and filled your glass, extending his arm towards you. When you hesitantly held the glass and your fingers touched briefly, Mingyu winked at you playfully and a shiver ran through your whole body.

This went on all night.

Mingyu carefully roasted the piece of meat you like best until it was just right for you. He also reached out to slap Vernon's hands away before he could snatch it from the grill, his muscles bulging under the sleeves of his black shirt right next to your face.

And, of course, you wanted to kiss him the moment he put his denim jacket over your lap to protect you from the cold without complaining – even though he told you to wear warm clothes tonight because of the weather.

— Gyu, you don't have to...

He cut you off before you could be the proud little thing who never gives in even though you know you're wrong.

— Don't be stubborn again. I told you it was gonna be cold and you still came in this tiny dress, at least keep the jacket. — He whispered, a perfectly balanced mix of seriousness and care. For emphasis, he tugged at the thin sleeves of your white dress, which didn't fit to keep out the cold.

Blame it on the drink;

Blame it on the several months you've gone without seeing anyone;

Blame Jeonghan for implanting indecent ideas in your head with his provocative comments about the way Mingyu always stood around you and looked at you;

Blame the smell of him surrounding you and inhibiting your senses in the enclosed space of the black range rover, or the way he drove with only one hand...

Blame anything, but you wanted him.

You felt your head spin the moment Mingyu said he would take you home, not letting anyone think of any other possibility during the carpool. And that was like a confirmation of everything a certain angel-faced devil had told you earlier.

You put on his dark denim jacket, sinking into the smell of his perfume that lingered on your clothes and biting your lips anxiously, an involuntary reaction to the scenarios you'd imagined and, to prevent your mind from continuing to go to places forbidden by “friend status”, you grabbed a can of Diet Pepsi before heading towards the car.

Of course, you also had to deal with the feeling of disappointment silently when you found Dokyeom and Minghao waiting in the back seat. “Jeonghan, you're paying me for this!”, you thought after fastening your seatbelt.

Mingyu smiled at you as he started the car, making his way to Dokyeom's house first - which was closer to the restaurant you were in. Eventually, you opened the can of Pepsi to distract yourself from the conflicting feelings you'd been having all night.

You didn't know it, but Mingyu noticed your strange behavior and, wanting to test whether his theory was right, he ignored the route to your house, deciding to leave Minghao first and then - by pure chance of fate - take the long way home.

He didn't stop there. Mingyu knew you were looking at him and purposely let go of one of your hands from the steering wheel, ran his fingers through his black hair to make it look messy as it fell over his eyes and, finally, grabbed the gearshift - as close to your thigh as possible, after all, Mingyu wanted to see how you reacted to him.

Of course, every glance was noticed, as was the intense way you stared at his hand holding the steering wheel. Mingyu could have sworn he saw you squeeze your thighs together a time or two when he made a skillful turn.

You started to shake your leg out of anxiety and seeing the perfect opportunity, Mingyu held your thighs in a firm grip to keep them still. The truth was that it didn't bother him at all, but he wouldn't miss the opportunity to put his hands on your thighs after so long watching them with desire.

He smirked arrogantly as he heard you sigh and struggle to keep still, muscles twitching uncontrollably under the palm of his hands. His eyes remained on the road, but they had a lustful glint behind the brown tenderness that Mingyu usually directed at you.

In your haze of thoughts, you didn't notice that the road to your house was taking longer than usual or that you had passed the same street three times. You also ignored the playful and arrogant expression that Mingyu wore, in fact, you didn't even look at his face as you were focused on the extraordinary way the veins stood out on the golden skin of his forearm and his thick thighs that were deliciously marked by his jeans.

The thin gold chain reflected the dim light of the streetlamps, shining through the collar of the black shirt that also highlighted the biceps carefully built up with regular routines in the gym, but just enough for the imagination. Kim Mingyu was dressed so casually and still managed to be sinfully handsome. Him wearing a black shirt so tight against his arms and chest should be considered a crime against public safety and you, feeling your neck heat up, pulled your hair up and leaned back in your seat to look at his face from a better angle.

And the look in your eyes...

Mingyu felt his patience fading. He pushed his tongue against his cheek to control himself, squeezing the gearshift until his fingers turned white. And then your eyes went to his face, your rosy lips were slightly open, your shoulders barely moving because of the shallow breathing and the typical doe eyes that blinked heavily at him, scanning every birthmark he had on his chiseled face.

He was tired of overthinking what kind of game you were playing now.

Slowly, Mingyu pulled the car over as soon as you turned into a discreet, quiet - partly dark - street and, as if a mist was coming out of the front of your eyes, you came back to reality as you felt the car stop and looked out of the window. It wasn't your house and you were even more confused when you heard the car's engine stop.

You turned to Mingyu who was taking the key out of the ignition.

— What are you doing? — you asked, but Mingyu didn't answer. — Why did you stop here?

He continued without answering, Mingyu didn't even look at you. Still facing forward, he just unbuckled your thigh to open his own seat belt and moved the seat back very slowly. Your eyes widened in surprise, confusion and... anticipation.

You focused your attention on the sliding seat, returning to stare at Mingyu's thick thighs, and clamped your lower lip between your teeth. By the time you raised your eyes to Mingyu's face again, he was already looking at you with a naughty, arrogant grin and his head tilted slightly to one side.

— Having fun? — He asked arrogantly and you blinked rapidly, feeling confused and overwhelmed.

“Maybe I shouldn't have drunk so much,” you thought.

Mingyu leaned over you, knocking you backwards. Your back slammed against the car door and you held your breath, not wanting to make any movement or comment that would break the tension that bubbled deliciously under your skin. Your eyes were locked on Mingyu's, and you couldn't take your eyes off them for a second.

The sound of your belt opening made you blink repeatedly once more and let out an anxious sigh - which, in turn, made Mingyu even more confident.

He rested his left hand on the tinted car window and brought his right hand up to your neck, wrapping his hand around your throat and subtly pulling you forward. You let out a pained grunt and close your eyes as you felt his nose brush against yours, both breaths mingling.

His thumb moved slowly against your skin and your lips touched quickly as he moved his head. You were going crazy and he was doing it on purpose, after all, watching you need him was more fun than Mingyu could have imagined.

— Gyu… — You called softly. A heavy, needy whisper that complemented the hushed atmosphere that enveloped the two of you. He was so close that you could smell the beer and mint gum he was chewing earlier. You shifted uncomfortably against the leather seat, wanting to get rid of the feeling of unease that ran through your whole body.

— Hm? — was all Mingyu replied.

You brought your trembling hands up to his shoulders, sliding them slowly under the collar of his shirt, feeling the warm skin against your icy palms and the defined muscles under your fingertips. You slid down to the nape of his neck, making a point of dragging your nails lightly along the way in a phantom touch that Mingyu reciprocated by squeezing your neck a little tighter.

With a sigh you pressed your nails against his neck, marking his honey skin with red scratches and pulled the gold chain into a closed fist. Mingyu finally crashed his lips against yours in a strong, needy kiss.

An involuntary moan of satisfaction escaped your throat as you felt his tongue making its way into your mouth, the soft muscle crashing deliciously against yours, and Mingyu released your neck to wrap his arm around your waist, pulling you against him so that you rode his lap.

It wasn't the most comfortable position even though the car was large, but 'comfort' wasn't a concern for him at the moment and even less so for you.

Still with trembling, hurried hands, you slipped them under his black shirt, dragging your nails across the length of Mingyu's abdomen, leaving more red marks across his immaculate skin. Your fingers stopped against the waistband of his jeans, unsure of what to do now.

Despite (trying) to be a confident person most of the time, you weren't the most experienced person when it came to boys. Minghao and Seungcheol tried hard to keep them away from you - after all, no guy was good enough for their best friend.

Mingyu, who had both arms around your waist now, pressing you against him, moved his hands down to your bare thighs, his fingertips trailing along the length that the slit didn't make a point of covering and - for the thousandth time tonight - your skin shivered at his touch.

Suddenly he grabbed both sides of your hips, pulling you forward and pressing you down against him, and you broke away from him with a gasp of surprise. You were both breathing heavily, your eyes closed and your foreheads pressed together. Mingyu brought his hand up to the collar of your jacket, gently pushing it back, his fingertips leaving a ghostly touch on the skin of your shoulder, exposed by the square neckline.

He removed the jacket from your body slowly, he was in no hurry at all and, now that there was nothing else in the way, Mingyu began to trail kisses and bites down the length of your jaw, neck and collarbones, marking your skin as you did with him and you answer by pressing your hips against his.

With an impulse of confidence you moved your waist, a slight and insecure movement at first, but one that made Mingyu sigh against the sensitive skin of your neck and increase the tightness against your skin - leaving marks that would turn red later. Mingyu's reactions were what you needed to keep going and you swivel your hips harder, making him throw his head back against the car seat.

Clumsily, you pulled up his shirt, trying to undress him, and Mingyu smiled even more arrogantly when he saw you fumble. He moved his hands away and pulled up his shirt and your eyes went down to his defined abdomen, measuring it completely.

His eyes darkened when he saw you biting your lips with glassy eyes. You brought your hands up to his shoulders, Mingyu was huge and very well built - unconsciously you thanked him for his dedication to the gym. He slid his hands under your dress, now squeezing the skin of your hips and waist with nothing to stop him.

You wrapped your index finger around the gold chain and pulled him forward, kissing him again, again, again and again and as many times as you wanted, you couldn't stop yourself.

You were so focused on the kiss, on moving your waist in just the right way to get all his reactions and whimpers, on the warm, soft skin against the palm of your hands, on the smell of him that intoxicated you, that you didn't miss his hands on your waist, and you weren't even surprised when the seat came down all at once, making you fall on top of him.

— What are you planning, Kim Mingyu? — you managed to ask between kisses and heavy sighs.

— You'll find out — he murmured against your lips. — And you'll love every second of it.

You felt your legs tremble and you rolled against him even harder, making him whimper softly and bite your lips hard. Mingyu stopped your hips, pushing you down a little just enough to unzip his pants and take out his cock that stood proudly up to his hips.

His red tip was shining from pre-cum, the veins that stood out on the skin, making you clench around nothing.

Mingyu moved his hand down your dress again, his fingertips slowly dragging over the thin fabric of your panties, teasing you.

— Gyu... — you whimpered.

— Tell me — he muttered against your mouth. — You need to tell me, pretty.

He enjoyed being a little teasing shit, finding fun in the way you react and your body trembles to his touches. Mingyu slides your panties to the side, his finger finally making contact to your clit.

— Please — you tried again, refusing to say it out loud.

— Nuh uh, baby, you need to say it.

— Gyu, please… — you started, but failed again.

— Poor little girl, can’t even use her words… — he teased you.

— Kim Mingyu, I swear to God if you… — your words were cut off by a groan when he slid his middle finger into your wet cunt.

Mingyu smirked when saw you struggling with your words again, just because of him. It's a complete ego booster for sure.

— If I..? — he suggested, provoking you again. — Come on, baby, what are you gonna do?

He slid a second finger, bending them to hit that specific spot that makes you tremble and gasp in his ears because of the stretch. You leaned forward, resting your hands on his chest and hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

You feel a knot forming in your low stomach and bite his shoulder to relieve some of the feeling, moving your hips by your own, chasing it.

Your whimpers became louder and more frequent and Mingyu took this as an incentive to go faster, always aiming for that spot that made you react the way he liked the most.

Sequenced moans of his name left your lips and you dug your nails harder into his shoulders. Involuntarily squirming to escape the overwhelming sensation that you were experiencing. And at the same time that you wanted Mingyu to continue, it was becoming too much.

You hold Mingyu’s wrist, trying to stop him, but it only makes him go harder on you. His free hand, grabbing your hips to make you quiet.

— Shh — he whispered into your ear. — It's ok, pretty, let it go.

Mingyu was slowly edging you to your high. His fingertips brushing against your soft walls plus his sweet voice praising you makes your toes curl. His actions turn all too much to handle and you feel losing yourself.

— That's it, baby, cum for me.

And you came, his name leaving your mouth as a chant, while your body grows even hotter. Mingyu continued moving his fingers, slower this time to help you come down from your high. He left several kisses on your shoulders, and caressed your back until your breathing regulated again.

You push his arms down, breathing heavily with your foreheads close to each other.

Mingyu began to caress your thighs to calm you down, kissing your lips tenderly, moving down to your chest and collarbones. In a burst of courage, you sat on him, still not sliding in, just an attempt to tease him the same way he did to you before.

He moans your name in response, a smug smirk adoring his lips and his hooded eyes staring directly at you in pure desire. — Stop the teasing, baby. — He said.

You grabbed his cock aligning him to your cunt. You went down slowly, holding your breath as you felt him open you inch by inch. His hands grabbed your hips harder, pushing you down to help you keep moving.

— Fuck… — He groaned when he reached the bottom. Despite the urgency Mingyu felt to move, he remained still so you could adjust to his size.

You whimpered in discomfort, not being used to his size, but somehow the initial stretch was kinda pleasant. The caress Mingyu gave your back and the little kisses he left on your shoulders were enough to calm you down a little and, still a bit insecure, you raised your hips, waited a little trying to prepare yourself emotionally, and lowered yourself again slowly.

Mingyu squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip hard. He wanted to take things at his own pace, so you would be comfortable, so you would enjoy it too, but you looked so beautiful and angelic in that short white dress and your frowning face that his inner self roared with the need to destroy you.

He wanted to take control, pin you against the leather seat and watch fat tears roll down your face, destroying your makeup with black mascara stains. You sped up little by little, gaining confidence as you moved, but it still wasn't enough and your thighs burned from the effort. You tried to keep going, wanting to get more grunts and moans out of Mingyu, but something was missing and so you stopped, hiding your face in his neck out of embarrassment.

— What happened? — he asked you, stroking your hair to comfort you.

— Tired… — you muttered. After a few seconds of silence you heard him laugh.

— Spoiled princess wants me to do all the work? — He asked you again, his voice dripping in a condescending tone.

— Please — you beg.

He blinked in astonishment, taken aback by you. His eyes darkened and he thrust his tongue against his cheek. — Move to the backseat!

You do as he says, moving to the back of the large car. Mingyu skillfully takes the seat again, pushing it closer to the steering wheel and gets out, walking around the car to the back seat. You lean your back against the door opposite the one Mingyu came in through, biting your lip in excitement.

He grabs your ankle, pulling you down. You slide into the seat, now lying on your back as Mingyu towers over you with all his splendor and size and you feel so small next to him — he has that effect on people.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down so you can kiss him again and circling his waist with your legs. Mingyu can only think about how you're going to be the death of him, but that moment doesn't last long as he's thrusting into you again. You moan louder, feeling him deeper than before.

The exchange of intense looks, foreheads colliding and the sloppy kisses constantly interrupted by sighs and moans add something more, intensifying all the feelings. His scent is surrounding you, making you dizzy and confused and Mingyu thrusts harder when he feels you scratch his back.

— More —you asked and Mingyu happily complied with your whining.

He holds your thigh, placing it above his shoulders, resting one of his arms on the window glass for support, going even deeper. You feel your high coming for the second time that night and involuntarily tighten around him, making him grunt and go harder.

You scratched his back, cumming again.

This time Mingyu followed you, spilling his cum inside you. The feeling was overwhelming, something you had never felt before and didn't imagine experiencing so soon, even less not being in a relationship with this person, but when it came to Mingyu everything felt so right.

— What are we now? — maybe you were reading the situation wrong and this was nothing more than a casual hookup, a one night thing, but you couldn’t help to feel your heart drop at this possibility.

— I’ll take you on a date — he answered simply.

— I think you reversed some steps — you joke, eliciting a breathy laugh from him.

Mingyu slid out slowly, but you still shivered in sensitivity. To reward him, he left several little kisses on your face.

— Maybe, but I’ll do it right this time. — He said. — Let’s get cleaned up and take you home.

You mumble in agreement, too tired to even respond and, unwillingly, you drag yourself back to the front seat. Mingyu leans towards you, fastening your seatbelt before leaving one last slow and deep kiss on your lips, one that you gladly return.

#suggestive #mingyu #mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #mingyu scenario #mingyu fanfic #mingyu imagine #seventeen imagine #svt imagines #svt fanfic #svt smut #mingyu fluff #svt fluff #seventeen x reader #svt x reader

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yandere-daydreams · 1 year

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tw - kidnapping, manipulation, mentions of physical abuse, and prolonged imprisonment.

You learn quickly that Nanami is significantly more bearable with he's playing house.

It should've been more obvious, in retrospect. If you hadn't been so terrified, so desperate not to fall into your captor's domestic delusions, you might've been more able to catch on more quickly, to realize how much softer he was when you treated him like a loving husband, rather than an obsessive stalker who had the nerve to roll his eyes when you asked if he had anything for you to wear that didn't involve bows and frills. You were slow on the uptake, but then again, he wasn't the kind of man who wore his heart on his sleeve.

His reactions weren't exactly more pronounced when your aggression started to fade, when you realized that he could barely take care of himself, let alone another person. You were skittish, eager to get in and out of the kitchen before he came home, and he was stoic, offering little more than a nod of his head and a muttered 'thank you' when he came home to find a bare-bones meal on the table or his constantly neglected apartment just a little cleaner. It took weeks for him to come to you directly; his suit jacket in one hand and spare button in the other. It should've only taken a minute to mend, but your hands shook so badly that it'd ended up taking ten. He watched over your shoulder all the while - smiling so softly, you'd been able to convince yourself that it was just your imagination.

You pretended that you didn't mind being with him, that the idea of being his stay-at-home hostage didn't make your skin crawl, and in exchange, he let you watch an hour of T.V. once a week, told you how your family and friends were dealing with your sudden disappearance. It wasn't a fair trade, but it was a trade - his domestic bliss for a handful of basic privileges, his happiness for the illusion of your freedom. When you can build up the courage, when you've recovered (or, recovered as much as you can, anyway) from the last time he bent you over his knee, you press for more. And sometimes, it works.

"I missed you," he mumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His strong arms are wrapped around your waist, his posture hunched to accommodate the disparity between your heights, and you can feel warm breath on your skin, his deep voice reverberating against your throat.

"Welcome home," you say, because he doesn't like it when you lie and 'I missed you too' might've been the most dishonest thing you could've said. "You should sit down. I just started on dinner, and--"

You pause, cursing under your breath. Nanami is tired enough or kind enough to take the bait. "Make me a list." He pulls you that much closer before straightening his back and kissing your cheek. "I'll run to the store. It's the least I could do, for the only person who manages to keep my head on my shoulders."

You let a second of silence lapse between you, then another. "You know," you manage, eventually, just as Nanami starts to detangle himself from you. "Most couples spend as much time together as they can."

You can practically hear his smile. "You want to go shopping with me?"

"...am I allowed to?"

"Of course." He says it like he hadn't kidnapped you. Like he hadn't kept you locked in his sterile apartment for the better part of a year. Like he hadn't taken you by the neck and promised he'd be the only man to ever touch you again every time you questioned his intentions.

There's another kiss, this one to the corner of your jaw. Just when you think your heart might beat out of your chest, he adds, "As soon as hell freezes over and curses go extinct, I'll take you wherever you want."

You might've cried, if you didn't know how much he loved wiping away your tears.

Sometimes, it works.

Most of the time, though, he chooses to remind you whose game you're playing.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk imagines #yandere jjk #yandere nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #yandere nanami #yanderecore #yancore

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moonlitdesertdreams · 5 months

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Stuck like glue

Request: "I'm going to scream your domestic character joining coop on his travels from her cabin is SO good 😭 I was wondering if you would write something with the same character in her cabin when coop turns up from nearby having taken one too many bullets? Or maybe he's sick and needs some jet. Some hurt/comfort fluffy sweetness"

A/N: Thank you to the awesome anon who sent the idea! Maybe not AS fluffy as we wanted, but there's for sure some soft Ghoul going on in here. And, oh yeah, the reader has a dog now. No description of said dog has been given, so please imagine as you'd wish.

Tags: Fallout, Cooper Howard, Cooper Howard x F!Reader, Cooper Howard x You, Ghoul x Reader

WARNINGS: Canon-Typical language and violence, brief mentions of sexual interaction.

Summary: Your favorite Ghoul needs to be patched up after a spat with some Raiders, and you always know just how to make him feel better.

Word Count: 2.0k+

Gif credit to @elisefrost from this set

You’re outside attempting to hang clothes to dry when you hear it.

The soft but distinct sound of jingling metal comes from behind your cabin. You set one hand on the pistol strapped to your thigh and walk in that direction, eyes peeled for any movement. A bark echoes the sound from your porch, and you snap at your four-legged companion in an attempt to get him to stay.

“Tiger!” You hiss. “Quit!”

He relents with an indignant huff and returns to the porch, while the metallic noise keeps up in a steady pattern, akin to the cadence of a slow walk. You tilt your head at the thought and eventually move the hand off your pistol; only one person would dare tread this close in broad daylight with such carelessness.

“Coop?”

You don’t see him anywhere, but you’re almost certain it was the sounds of his old spurs that caught your attention.

“Cooper if you’re tryna scare me, you know I'll gut you.” The threat is an empty one, but saying it gives you some hope that it’s indeed him and not a Raider or Slaver looking to score some loot.

“No need, babydoll.” His voice sounds ragged, tired. “Don’t think I could scare a bunny rabbit at the moment.”

You follow his voice to your left, and find the Ghoul leaned up against a tree. He’s practically swaying in the breeze, very apparently unsteady. You rush over just as he slides down and collides with the dirt..

“Cooper! What happened to you?”

Your hands flutter up and down his arms, brusquely checking for any injuries. Nothing obvious jumps out at you, but he heals fast and external wounds are rare. A wheeze claws its way up his throat and morphs into a hacking cough. You recognize the sound as the need for a Vial, and grab at his bag.

“Do you have any on you?”

A stuttered cough answers. “Fresh out… s’why I came here.”

Your stash of Vials had been growing just about as long as you’d known Cooper. When you traveled together, he’d hand some off to you for safekeeping, and there always ended up being extras. Upon your return home, he’d tell you to keep them. It wasn’t shocking, given that he found his way back every couple of days.

“Alright, come on.” You crouch down and position yourself beneath Cooper’s arm.

You can tell he’s weak by the way he leans into you, knees wobbling relentlessly as you pull him up. Another round of coughing wracks his body and you squeeze him reassuringly.

“Couch isn’t far.” You chose your words carefully, avoiding any inkling of pity. Having an already deteriorating Ghoul is enough, let alone a defensive one who hates being pitied.

Cooper does his best to keep up with your steps, but his movements are sloppy and uncoordinated. You can feel the heat radiating off of him through his jacket and hear him wheezing beside your ear. Stepping onto the porch gives him some trouble, but you manage to haul him up and inside the door. Tiger whines nervously, circling the pair of you as you trek inside. The Ghoul collapses onto the couch as soon as it’s within reach.

After making sure Cooper’s not going to slide off the couch, you continue to the med-kit in your makeshift kitchen. The Vials are hidden at the very bottom, wrapped in cloth for extra cushion to prevent shattering. You decide there’s more than enough for him to take two, and carefully extract the mysterious chem.

Cooper’s laid out on his back when you return with the Vials. One arm is thrown over his eyes and the other dangling off the side of the couch with Tiger perched beneath. The dog nuzzles his favorite person’s hand for attention, and it elicits a chuckle from you. Even as the only conscious person in the room, you were still second in Tiger’s eyes.

“Coop.” You shake his shoulder gently. “Hey. Hey. Where’s your inhaler?”

You nudge his hat away and he blinks slowly. “Mmm.”

“Ok then.” You mutter and pat down his jacket, searching for the contraption he always carries. The coat yields no results, and you pat down his pants until you feel it tucked away into the pocket at his hip. “Finally.”

Cooper shuffles ever so slightly when you slip your hand into his pocket. “H-hey now. I know you love me, baby, but I-I ain’t got it in me right now.”

An errant smile pushes its way onto your lips. You snap the meds into place on his inhaler

“Open up.”

He fails to heed your instructions, and you ultimately end up forcing the inhalant into his mouth. It never works instantly, but within a minute or so of administering it there’s movement. One of Cooper’s hands lifts to cup yours, puffing on the inhaler again.

You release your hold on it and rock back onto the balls of your feet. It’s then you take note of the holes in his clothing, and run a hand down his chest. There’s numerous holes, some as big as your finger and others no larger than a pinhead.

“Cooper, what happened to you?” You sit on the edge of the couch beside him as he takes his first deep breath without Chems.

“I just turn’d in a bounty and some Raiders jumped me.” He looks down at your hand on his chest. “Bastards shot me ten or eleven times. Damn buckshot got me good.”

You nod. “I can tell. You were in a bad way, Coop.”

The Ghoul sits up slowly beside you so his legs can swing off the couch. “I’ll be good as new, soon as this stuff starts workin’ good.”

Tiger hops up on the couch next to him, tail wagging with excitement. The dog licks your cheek on his way to Cooper and pushes his nose into the Ghoul’s shoulder. You chuckle at the interaction, patting the dog’s shoulders. Coopers are still hunched with exhaustion, and his deep-set eyes look even more so.

“Well until they do, you rest.” You stand, glancing out the still-ajar door. “It’s getting dark anyway.”

Cooper, as usual, opens his mouth to protest. If there’s anything he hates, it’s feeling useless.

“No arguments.” You point a finger at him. “I mean it.”

He grumbles, but relents. “Fine. Only if you turn somethin’ on that ol’ TV of yours.”

The television turns out to be a perfect method of relaxation. You have to remove Cooper from the couch temporarily, but wrestle it into the pullout bed form and line it with blankets. The Ghoul had given in to his exhaustion rather easily at the prospect of a comfortable bed and kicked off his boots to climb all the way in. You hung his coat on a nail by the door, but made sure to leave his guns, lasso, and assorted weapons within arm’s reach. The TV played some old soap opera from before your time while you snagged a couple of hard candies- a luxury item, as the nearest settlement called them- and made to settle in.

Cooper had managed to prop himself against the back of the couch, feet kicked out down the length of the thin mattress. Tiger, seeking attention as per usual, is curled up against his right leg. A wet nose rests just beneath Cooper’s knee and twitches in interest when you unwrap the first candy.

The Ghoul might as well be a dog himself for the way his ears perk at the sound of a wrapper.

He watches intently as you very gracefully clamber to sit next to him. You pop the fruit-flavored candy in your mouth and scoot around until you find comfort. In this case, it’s leaned up against the Ghoul beside you, head dropping onto his shoulder. His breathing is still shallower than you’d like, but a vast improvement from where it was when he’d shown up.

“You ain’t gonna share?”

You open your fist and offer up one of the candies. “I suppose I could. But only for you.”

A smirk twists the corners of his scarred lips. You poke at the candies and attempt to read the labels to no avail.

“I’d offer you a choice of flavor, but…” You shrug, looking back up to your Ghoul. “Slim pickings.”

He lifts a bare hand to your chin, tilting up. “I think the pickin’s are just fine.”

You smile and lean in to meet him, lips falling into a familiar dance.The hand on your chin slides down to grip your nape and holds you firmly in place. It’s not long before the candy is gone from your mouth. Its remnants remain, mingling with the taste of gunpowder and smoke. A few moments pass before you decide to separate

“Miss me much?” You inquire, cuddling yourself down into his side.

His arm raises to accommodate your body and lowers it back down to encircle your shoulders once you’re settled. “I always miss you darlin’. For a variety of reasons.”

You hum softly, “Yeah? Why’s that?”

Cooper’s hand trails up and down your arm, leaving wide trails of gooseflesh. “Well, the main one happens to be the lack of entertainment.”

You scoff. “I’m your entertainment?”

“Fuck yeah, you are. ‘Specially when you’re hollerin’ at scavengers and shootin’ anything that moves.” The Ghoul chuckles to himself. “Or trippin’ over a sleeping yao guai.”

You shove him playfully. “That was one time, and I shot it dead anyway.”

Cooper pulls you towards him, and you shift until you’re between his legs, back pressed against his chest. “That you did, sweetheart. I ain’t forgot.”

He grabs the nearest blanket and tosses it over your entangled bodies. You curl to the side and rest your cheek to his chest. Tiger shuffles his body with a huff, apparently frustrated with the lack of attention.

“What would you do without me?” You tap his chest gently, relishing in the warmth he produces. “Other than get eaten by a yao guai?”

The Ghoul scratches Tiger’s head. “Prolly go feral. Chase around some folk to scare em’.”

You know he’s joking, but the thought of losing him to ferality scares you to no end. Particularly since he’s just shown up on death’s door and almost hacked a lung onto your floor.

“Don’t say that.” You lift your head to catch his eye. “Please.”

Cooper may be a gruff old Ghoul with a dreadful outlook on the world, but he softens ever so slightly at your words.

“You know I don’t mean it, sugar. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

Two scarred fingers hook beneath your jaw and pull you back up to his lips. It’s tame at first, but the Cooper you know wastes no time making an appearance. His teeth nip at your lip gently and one rough hand slides up your side until it cups your breast. You press into him eagerly, climbing upwards until your thighs slot around either side of his hips. He responds by grinding them into you, delicious friction warming you from head to toe.

Tiger decides he’s disgusted at this point, and hops off the couch with a comical groan.

Unbothered, one of your hands latches onto the lasso that is tossed on top of his pile of weapons. You loop it around his neck, gripping either side of the rope and pulling him in. Cooper smirks against your mouth.

“Oh I love being stuck with you, Cowpoke.” You whisper against his mouth, earning yourself a quick bite to the bottom lip.

The Ghoul grins and quickly shows how much strength he’s regained by reversing your positions. He snatches the rope faster than you can react, and wraps the fingers of one hand loosely around the column of your throat. There’s just enough pressure to shoot a pang of arousal between your legs. Cooper knows you’re squirming, and presses a knee there to relieve some of the ache.

“Glad t’hear it.” He murmurs into your neck, “‘Cause I sure as hell ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

-------------------

thanks for reading, much love ❤

Read More: Fallout Masterlist

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upsidedownwithsteve · 6 months

Text

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [4.2K] loosely based on the movie float, lifeguard!steve, a summer full of swim lessons. mentions of drowning, eventual smut 18+

SWIM LESSON SCHEDULE

LESSON #1

“Oh, come on,” the guy coaxed, voice wheedling and a little slurred.

You didn’t really know him, a friend of a friend's cousin who was visiting from out of town but he’d been cute enough to entertain five beers ago. He’d grown sloppier now, a little leery, his hand around your wrist as he udder you towards the dock that overlooked Lover’s Lake.

You’d dug your heels in, smiling through your teeth as you shook your head and tried not to spill the cheap wine Robin had brought down the front of your shirt. The small beach that was hidden in a cove was surrounded by trees, green in the summer, full and making the crescent moon strip of land perfect for a bonfire and for some drinking.

There were small crowds of people all over the sandy patch, sitting on blankets and cheap camping chairs, familiar faces lit by the small fire, people you didn’t know as well lingering between, bare feet on the edge of the shoreline.

You’d came with Eddie, riding in the front seat of his van with a rucksack full of corner store liquor on your lap, the smell of weed coming off strong from the pocket inside his leather jacket.

“A night full of potential clients, sweetheart, please,” he’d pleaded with you, brown button eyes wide. “The Jacksons have their cousins over from the backass of Georgia, they’ll pay for the rest of our summer if I show them the good shit.”

So you’d agreed, albeit grudgingly, letting your best friend haul you off your sofa and to the get together that you didn’t really want to go to. But Robin was there, and Nancy too, a few people you hadn’t seen since senior year, back for the summer to visit their folks and well - it wasn't all bad.

Then the evening faded into night and the lavender skies turned inky, the same shade as the lake water. And when people got a little looser, whisky and bud light warming their veins, they laughed as they stripped down to mismatched underwear and dove off the dock, splashing and shrieking in water you couldn’t see the bottom of and god—

You’d, grimaced, turning away from the shoreline and sticking close to Eddie, the boy’s arm always brushing your own even when he was busy dealing, twenties fisted in his hand as he passed over baggies to a twenty something girl you’d never seen before.

But then that guy found you, relatively sober and sweet until he wasn’t, sloppy with his arm around your neck, breath smelling like smoke and beer and he was pulling you towards the people in the water, telling you it was all part of the fun. You’d protested immediately, intensely, eyes wide as the water came closer and your feet hit the wooden planks of the dock.

Between the gaps, you could see black, dark water rippling, the moon overhead glinting white off the tips of the current. Eddie hadn’t noticed you were gone until the stranger had dragged you half way down the decking. Your wrist burned from how tight he held it, how hard you tried to twist it from his grasp.

“Hey— hey!” Eddie had barked out, loud and brash and aggressive enough to make a lot of people around him startle. He broke free from the circle that had gathered around him, lips set in a snarl and determination in his eyes. You knew fine well that when Eddie got his hands on this guy, it wasn’t going to be pretty. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Let her fucking go—”

But Eddie couldn’t reach you in time, not when his boots dug too deep into the sand and there were too many people to push out of the way. The guy laughed at a joke you weren’t a part of and then he pushed.

Your arms swung wildly, windmilling as gravity took over, your balance gone and you were too near the edge of the dock to do anything about it. Your hands grabbed at the air, fingertips just brushing your new acquaintances shirt and his grinning face and beer blurred eyes were the last thing you saw before you back hit the water.

It was as dark underneath the surface of the lake as it was above it, an icy shock despite how warm the day had been, how the heat still lingered in the night. You gasped, immediately inhaling, murky water filling your mouth and throat and you kicked, hoping that the direction your hands were clawing in was up.

But nothing happened and your body didn’t move.

On the beach, people were murmuring, too drunk to consider the consequences, too stoned to fly into action. Besides, only seconds had passed. Bubbles were floating in the spot you’d gone under, ripples evidence of the fact that you’d once been there. Eddie was sweating, shoving at people as he ripped off his leather jacket and prepared to vault himself onto the water after you but someone at the bottom of the deck beat him to it.

Steve Harrington had dropped his beer at the first sign of the commotion, his part in the conversation with Jonathan Byers and his friend from California dying off as he turned to watch a guy he didn’t know drag you down the dock. The stranger had been laughing but you hadn’t, and before he could say something, Steve only had a second to look at the absolute horror on your face before you were forced backwards and into the lake.

He was on his feet immediately, facing back up the dock to where you’d disappeared from, watching wildly for signs of you returning to the surface. And then Eddie was yelling at him, pushing past some underage kids from out of town, half of his jacket hanging from his shoulders and he was yelling.

“Steve! Steve, she can’t fuckin’ swim, man—”

If Eddie finished the sentence or said anything else, Steve didn’t hear it. He launched himself off of the side, hitting the cold water with a splash he didn’t hear. Water filled his ears and fuck, he could barely see. But somewhere a little below him there was a flash of white from your shirt that had tangled itself up around your neck, your arms flailing wildly as you tried your damn hardest to kick up the way.

Steve had grabbed your arm, your panic making you slip before he curled his fingers around your wrist and then you were being hauled against him, your back to his chest as he moved with a confidence you could never imagine for yourself. You’d been under for a minute, maybe a little more, maybe a little less, but Steve had your head breaking the surface of the lake in seconds. You were gasping and coughing, your fingernails tattooing half moon lines in Steve’s forearm as you held onto him, fear gripping you as hard as you did him.

You thought you’d heard his voice, a low murmur in your ear that was fuzzy from the water lodged there, from the buzz and clamour that had then awoken on the beach as the music stopped and people were gathered by the shoreline.

Eddie had been knee deep in the water, readily meeting you and Steve as the boy swam closer with you, and once your feet hit the sandy bottom, you lurched forward, hands held out to grab Eddie’s waiting ones.

Steve’s were on your back, keeping you upright and steady until he saw that Eddie had you. You and Steve were both dripping and Eddie was swearing, his cheeks red and his eyes wide, unsure whether to rush you to his van first or hunt down the creep that had put you in danger in the first place.

But Nancy was rushing forward with a blanket, wrapping it around your shoulders and taking in your chattering teeth and panicked stare, the vice-like grip you had around Eddie’s fingers. “He’s gone,” she said to the boy. “He ran off when he saw Steve dive in. Just get her home, Eddie.”

Steve Harrington had ended up in the front bench with you in Eddie’s van, your shivering frame sandwiched between both boy’s and no one said anything until you all got back to Eddie’s trailer.

You hadn’t said anything as you’d headed for a hot shower, your wet clothes slapping on the bathroom tiles as you had stripped, slimy weeds and grains of sand stuck to your cold skin and your hands were still shaking as you twisted the squeaky handle to turn the water up hotter still.

And when Eddie was ripping his room apart for dry clothes for you and Steve to change into, his eyes watery with anger, his throat tight with rage, Steve had been leaning against his door frame with his arms crossed over his damp chest.

“We’ll get him,” he’d said quietly, just in case you could hear above the spluttering of the old pipes. “We’ll find out who he was and— and we’ll deal with him and then I’m gonna teach her how to swim, alright?”

Eddie nodded, movements sharp and jerky and he handed Steve a pair of black sweatpants and an old Metallica shirt.

“Alright?” Steve had repeated, chin ducked to make Eddie meet his gaze. He had been so serious. “I’m gonna give her lessons. This won’t happen again.”

The sky was still half pink as you biked down the empty sidewalk.

A blue-lilac colour, softer than you’d usually witness due to the early morning hour. The sun was still low, the town still asleep, the watch on your wrist telling you the seven am was still to come. Your bike chain whirred softly, brakes squeaking as you slowed by the chain link fence.

Hawkins community pool was sun bleached and well loved, the old bunting that draped over the water barely red and blue, the shutters for the food stand still rolled down and locked. The aquamarine slide was now more white and it looked like it would give you an infection if your skin was to snag on one of the exposed bolts. But the gate was open, only just, and you sucked in a deep breath as you let your bike lean against the wall.

Chlorine filled your nose as you walked in, the generator humming and the pool filter trickling, the sun loungers empty and still stacked against the changing rooms. Despite your early wake up call, the air was already warm, a humid kind of heat that Indiana summers brought, sticky and sweet smelling, like someone had left a jug of peach tea on their porch all day.

The tiles that surrounded the pool were wet, recently hosed down and cleaned, and your sneakers slapped noisily as you walked towards the waters edge. You didn’t go too close, not at all, grimacing at the bright blue rectangle like it would force you in itself. It seemed somehow more menacing when it was still, a glasslike surface reflecting the cotton candy sky above it, no splashing and screaming kids to fill its depths.

Then a boy appeared - no, more man than boy - from the staff building.

He had red shorts on, the fabric sitting above his knees and an old white shirt that you assumed must’ve once said “lifeguard.” He was barefoot and tanned, sunglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose and he didn’t even notice you at first, too busy hanging a net back onto the wall.

Steve Harrington was pretty and tall and he had really good hair. He was quieter than when you’d know him in high school, softer looking than he’d once been. But you didn’t really know him and he didn’t really know you. But he was friends with Eddie and you were friends with Eddie, so somehow, someway, that meant you were kind of, almost friends with him too.

Except you weren’t and you had no idea why you’d agreed to this.

“You can change in there.”

You hadn’t expected his voice, so you startled, arms wrapping tighter around your body and crushing the small rucksack that housed your suit and towel. You frowned at the idea, because changing meant one step closer to going into the water and you weren’t quite sure you wanted to do that yet.

So you said nothing.

Steve just watched you from across the pool, brows raised. And then he shrugged and muttered something that sounded like “suit yourself,” before he threw his sunglasses onto a plastic chair and tugged his shirt over his head.

You’d barely gotten a chance to really look at the quick flash of tanned, bare skin he exposed before he dove into the water, barely causing a ripple. You were slack jawed as you watched him move seamlessly below the surface, his body a pretty shade of blue as his muscles flexed, strong back and broad shoulders stretching as he swam.

When he reappeared, much closer to you, Steve braced his forearms on the edge of the pool and dragged a hand through his wet hair, strands of it plastered to his forehead, water clinging to his lashes.

You didn’t know where to look.

“You’re not going to learn much if you don’t take your clothes off.”

Despite the way his words warmed you, skin heating up the same way the morning was, you scowled. You didn’t want to be here. Not at the pool, not around water, not with Steve Harrington and certainly not at seven in the morning on a Saturday.

And now you were standing under the morning sun and the same boy that saved you from the lake was squinting up at you from the pool below and you were only really here because Eddie had begged you.

It had been a whole week and you could still taste lake water on the back of your tongue.

“Changing rooms are over there,” Steve motioned to the building behind you with a tilt of his head.

You tried not to look at him, or the water, when you nodded tightly, dragging yourself off to the ladies section. And when you came back out, the sun had risen just a little more and Steve was still in the pool, floating easily on his back as he used his arms to move slowly around the water. The rays were glinting off of the water and him, toned shoulders and soft stomach glittering with water droplets and suddenly the pool seemed an even scarier place to be.

The old swimsuit you’d managed to pull on was a little on the tight side, all black and supposed to be modest if the too small size hasn’t been cutting into the swells of your ass and chest. It had been a good few years since you’d had reason to put it on, and even then, you hadn’t gone near water. A beach day on the Fourth of July with enough space between you and the ocean that you hadn’t even minded the sand too much.

So you stood with your arms crossed over your chest, trying to hide the expanse of skin there, your knees pressed together and you looked downright mournful about your current predicament. If Steve hadn’t remembered the fear in your eyes that night in the lake as you scrambled for him under the water, he would’ve cracked a joke or two.

Instead, he swam over to you cautiously, fingers curling around the edge of the pool as he swiped his wet hair from his forehead. “Hey,” he began gently. The town still hadn’t woken up yet, not really. It was just Steve’s voice and the hum of the pool filter, some cicadas buzzing in a bush behind the far side of the fence. “Nothing bad is going to happen, alright? Not here.”

You looked at him like you didn’t believe him, eyes wide and lips drawn into a tight line. You didn’t move an inch. And it wasn’t because you didn’t trust him, not really. You were exactly friends but Steve was close with Eddie and if Eddie trusted him— well. He got an automatic pass from you too.

Eddie didn’t trust a whole lot of people.

But the problem wasn’t Steve. It was most definitely the rectangle full of blue water, shimmering and pretty as it was, it looked deep, the slope of it going downdowndown and Steve’s body was distorted under the ripples, his legs looking broken and mangled, the surface lapping way too high across his shoulders and neck.

Your body felt like lead, a dead weight ready to sink to the pool floor, legs unable to push yourself back up.

You took a step back.

“Okay,” Steve sighed and he tried really hard to not sound impatient. The day had barely begun and he’d make a promise to Eddie, one he really didn’t want to break. “We’ll take it back a little, yeah? Come over here.”

You watched as he pulled himself out of the pool with an impressively low amount of effort. The muscles in his shoulders and back bunched up and he swung a leg onto the tiles before standing, water dripping off of him, cool and splashing your toes. He made a point of not looking at your and all your bare skin as he walked around the edge of the pool, right towards the back of the lot where there was a set of stairs that led into the shallow end.

He didn’t look over his shoulder to check if you were following and you only hesitated for a second or two before you did. And when he reached the top of the steps, he waited for you and held out his hand, brows raised expectantly.

You stared back.

The water didn’t look as scary here, but not by a whole bunch. It was lighter blue, the white tiles on the bottom of the pool about more visible and the numbers that were flaking and painted on the side of the wall said the depth was only two and a half feet.

You could drown in less, the voice in your head told you. It sounded a lot like your mom.

So you kept your arms crossed for a little while longer, teeth gnawing unkindly at your bottom lip. Steve just waited, hand extended palm up and after a minute had passed, he took one step into the pool, standing ankle deep in the water on the top stair. He caught your eye then, smiling in what he hope was a reassuring way.

“D’you trust me?” He asked, eyes squinting in the bright sun. There was a mole on his cheek that disappeared into the lines of his skin when he smiled. “S’okay if you don’t yet, but, I’m a lifeguard here, so like, legally? I can’t let you die.”

You surprised both yourself and the boy when you snorted unexpectedly, a sharp sound of amusement that you used a hand to cover up. But it seemed to encourage Steve, ‘cause he positively beamed at you, his hand wiggling, vying for your own.

“C’mon, I promise I won’t let you go,” he swore. He leaned further forward, his fingers close enough to brush the softness of your stomach, if he so pleased. He didn’t. “We’ll start nice and easy today, alright?”

It felt momentous, when you slid your hand into his. He was still warm despite his pool damp skin, like the sun lived inside his bones. He grinned, victorious, nodding encouragingly when you moved to the edge of the steps.

“We’ll do them one at a time, alright?” Steve moved to stand in front of you, his other hand catching your free one until he was guiding you closer and closer to the water, walking himself backwards with every step you took forward. You flinched when your foot hit the first step, the water warmer than you’d anticipated, brushing up just past your ankle.

You had two feet in the pool and two hands in Steve Harrington’s and it felt like the entire world was about to implode on you.

“There you go,” Steve murmured, warmth and a little hum of pride in his voice. “See? S’not bad, right? I’ve still got you.” So you took another step and another and suddenly the water was lapping at your knees. You froze, grip tightening around Steve’s fingers and your wide eyes found his, all too aware of the way you were very much in the pool now.

“Hey, hey,” Steve’s thumbs rubbed over the back of your knuckles, the skin there burning from holding him so tightly. “Listen. Do you trust me?”

There was no joke that followed the question this time. His eyes were earnest and warm, serious as they looked at you, searching your face for any signs that you were going to flee. It took you a few seconds, swallowing dryly and taking a deep, staggering breath before you nodded. You did, you did trust him, and that was as surprising as you being in the pool.

“Yeah,” you told Steve, voice a little weak and hoarse. “Yeah, I trust you.”

He squeezed your fingers and his smile was gentle, an achingly kind thing that made your eyes water in the corners and Steve let you stand on that middle step for a little while longer. “Good,” he finally said and his voice was as soft as yours had been. You tried not to look at the way the chain around his throat caught the sunlight, the silver turning golden, just like his skin. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay?”

You nodded, feverish and your movements jagged and you tore your eyes from Steve to look at your bare feet on the steps, your toes waving under the ripples, longer and skinnier and then fatter and wider. The sight made you dizzy, stomach tumbling a little but even still, you wished you’d had the forethought to paint your toenails something pretty.

“Two more steps, alright?”

Steve’s encouragement broke your senseless wanderings and you nodded again, words caught in your throat and he was leading you forward, hands wrapped around your own and he grinned when you took another step down, the water hitting your upper thighs. It was cooler as you went deeper, a stark contrast to the warm, sticky air above it and your skin prickled, mouth falling in a quiet gasp. Another step, happening almost too fast for you to overthink it, the water at your hips and making you swear as you rose onto your toes almost instinctively.

Steve laughed, not unkindly, as you moved closer to him, unthinking as your hands left his in favour of clinging to his upper arms. It felt safer like that, anchoring yourself to his solid frame, but there was so much bare skin involved and not a lot of space left between you both as you held on for dear life. His fingertips brushed the sides of your waist before he must’ve thought better of it, cheeks burning before his hands cupped your elbows and he took a little step back so your chest didn’t touch his.

“You’re alright,” he murmured. “You did it, yeah? That’s it. You’re in.”

Steve was grinning and you tried to smile too, trying to feel proud of your little accomplishment but the rest of the pool was stretched out behind Steve’s shoulder and the water there was so much more blue, cerulean leading into indigo until you couldn’t see the bottom anymore.

Steve must’ve noticed cause he shook his head, the hand cupping your elbow smoothing up your arm until he squeezed, water dripping from his palms and coasting down your skin. “Hey, hey, none of that. That’s for another day. We’re staying here, alright?”

You grimaced at the idea of ‘another day,’ but his words still didn’t ease you. You licked at your lips, dots of chlorine on them and despite how stupid you felt, you asked anyway. “What if— what if l, like, float over that way? Accidentally.”

Steve smiled like he couldn’t help himself, laughter in his eyes and a grin that he quickly tamed. “We’re not gonna catch any waves in here, this isn’t Maui,” he was still smiling, teasing, just a little. But sensing your growing worry, he continued. “And if that had to happen - which it won’t - I’ll come and get you.”

You stared at him, heartbeat in your throat and so many other questions on your tongue. They died there, fizzing into nothing as Steve held your gaze, a silent promise in his brown eyes. You’d never noticed how long and thick his lashes were, still wet and spiky from when he’d been swimming as you changed.

Maybe there was doubt in your eyes, or maybe Steve just felt the need to reiterate his statement, but when he said once more, “I’ll come get you, just like last time,” you really did believe him.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington smut

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punkshort · 6 months

Text

i know who you are | 6. the fight

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Word of Joel's indiscretion spreads quickly through town, leading to a vicious fight. When Joel begins to worry you may never forgive him, he sets into motion a plan to win you back.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, pining, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, previous infidelity mentioned, violence (fist fight), blood, bruises, jealousy/possessiveness

WC: 8K

Series Masterlist

The thought of leaving your bed was excruciating.

For nearly three days, you could hardly do much more than use the bathroom and drink some water. When you heard Joel leave for patrol, his footsteps always pausing hesitantly on the other side of your door before begrudgingly going down the steps, you would eventually drag yourself downstairs and force yourself to eat something. Anything. It didn't really matter. You didn't crave anything. Didn't look forward to a single thing except the sweet embrace of sleep. But by the fourth day, you knew you would have to go back to work or else Nick would make a house call to check on you.

You had lied and said you hurt your back so you could get out of working for a few days, but enough time had passed, enough tears were shed, enough pity was wasted when you finally forced yourself to get up one morning and take a shower.

It helped more than you thought it would. The steam billowing around you in the confined space, the warm water pummeling your shoulders, working out the kinks in your muscles from too many hours hunched over in agony. If you had any self-awareness, you might have asked yourself why you had such a powerful reaction to Joel kissing someone else. If you had a clear enough mind, you might have remembered you didn't even react this badly when you woke from your accident only to discover your whole family was dead and the world went to hell.

No, you only seemed to fall into a deep depression over Joel finding comfort from another woman.

And not just any woman. Angie.

It still made your blood boil as you slipped on clean clothes for work. You should have known she was a shark, smelling blood in the water that very first night when she cornered you in the bathroom.

And to make matters worse, he had the audacity to accuse you of not caring. Not giving a shit about him, to be exact.

That fucking asshole.

When you came down the stairs and spotted the coffee maker still on with your favorite mug next to the carafe, you scoffed and kept walking to grab your coat. As much as you wanted some coffee, you were too stubborn to accept Joel's shitty gesture.

The winter sun was blinding against the snow. Or maybe your eyes were just too swollen and dry, too accustomed to staying in the darkness of your bedroom for days on end, but whatever it was caused you to wince and rub your face.

"Hey! You're alive!" you heard Ellie's voice call out from the driveway. She was walking up the path at the exact same time as you with her backpack slung over one shoulder and her winter jacket unzipped.

"Yeah, barely," you replied, wishing you had some of the coffee Joel had left behind. You took the porch steps carefully and met her out on the sidewalk, your pupils finally adjusting to the brightness. "How's it going, kid?"

She opened her mouth to reply but paused, giving you a funny look.

"What's wrong?" you asked, unable to read her expression.

"Nothing, just that nickname... took me by surprise," she laughed with a shake of her head, "you used to call me that before. Haven't heard it in a long time, I guess." You shielded your eyes and shrugged.

"Common nickname, I suppose," you reasoned, and she nodded in agreement.

"How's the back?" she asked with a point, and you almost had to ask her what she was talking about before you remembered your lie.

"Oh! Much better, thanks. Must've pulled a muscle or something, who knows."

"Well, that's good. Listen, I gotta get to school, but do you wanna get dinner later with me and Dina? Seth's making mac and cheese, and it's like, the fucking best, dude," she said excitedly, and you didn't have the heart to say no.

"Yeah, sounds great," you smiled, then gave her a quick wave before heading in the opposite direction towards the infirmary.

It was only a short ten minute walk to work, but the fresh air combined with stretching your muscles for the first time in days really did something to improve your mood. By the time you pushed open the door to the infirmary, you were actually looking forward to working again.

And so was Nick, apparently, because his eyes lit up and his body sagged with relief when he saw you.

"I was a few hours away from sneaking you the good pills and begging you to come back," he joked, then his face turned serious. "Everything alright? What happened?"

"Oh, I'm fine," you said, waving off his concern, "I slipped on some ice and pulled a muscle, it's all good now."

"Well, be careful out there, alright? You're the best aide I have."

"I'm the only aide you have," you corrected him before hanging up your jacket. "What do you need me to do?"

The morning went by fast. Nick had told you in the few days you were out, the clinic wasn't terribly busy, but he unfortunately did fall behind on housekeeping. So you busied yourself running loads of sheets and blankets to the laundry, then sanitizing equipment until Mr. Phillips came in after lunch with a laceration on his arm from working in the stables. It wasn't a bad injury, but it required some cleaning and a few stitches, which you were secretly eager to observe. You wanted to get more exposure to stitching in the hopes of being able to take care of non-emergency injuries by yourself one day.

It felt good to feel useful again. Staying busy forced your mind off Joel and the whole mess waiting for you at home, and you were grateful for the distraction. So much so that you decided to stay a little longer than usual and fold the linens that came back from the laundry. You were killing two birds with one stone: staying busy and avoiding going home in between work and dinner. By now, you knew he'd be back and likely waiting for you, and you still had no idea what you would say.

As the sun began to set and the world outside the infirmary grew darker, you slid your coat back on and locked the door behind you before heading for the dining hall.

Shoving your hands deep into your pockets, you tucked your chin against your chest, feet carrying you swiftly through the streets, eyes cast down and avoiding others as best you could. When you arrived at the dining hall, it was packed, per usual, but you did manage to spot Ellie and Dina holding a small table in the back of the room. As you weaved your way through the crowd, you noticed they were sharing some bread and butter and you felt your stomach rumble. For the first time in days, you felt excited to eat.

"Hey," you said in greeting as you dropped your coat over the back of an empty chair before giving them each a half hug. "Freezing out there."

"Give it a second. It's hotter than hell in here," Dina joked before pushing the basket of bread in your direction. You plopped down into your chair and moaned when you felt the bread was still warm, then tore off little pieces and popped them into your mouth.

"Hungry?" Ellie asked, only partially joking as you nodded vigorously.

"Did you order the mac and cheese yet?"

"Yeah, didn't want him to run out," she replied as she eased back into her chair and turned her head toward Dina. "Do you see Chris and Holly over there? What are they thinking? They know that shit'll get back to Claire. What a bunch of assholes."

"Who?" you asked, your voice muffled around the bread.

"Couple of kids in our class," Dina explained, nodding towards the other side of the hall. You twisted around, your eyes scanning the crowd until you saw a younger couple sitting together, the girl sitting on the guy's lap and toying with his hair. "That's Chris, and he's been dating this girl, Claire, for like, what? Six months or so? And look at him. Letting that hussy crawl all over him. Men are pigs."

You choked on your laughter and took a swig of water. If only they knew.

Ellie's eyes lit up as she looked at something behind you, and you turned around to follow her gaze, spotting Seth as he made his way through the crowd with three plates of mac and cheese. However, just over his left shoulder you happened to notice Joel for the first time since you arrived, but by the looks of it, it was not the first time he noticed you.

He was sitting at his usual table with Tommy and another guy from patrol you vaguely recognized, the other two men engrossed in conversation while Joel pinned you with his stare. You quickly turned away, your cheeks feeling flush, and tried to focus on your dinner.

"Shit, this looks amazing," you said, distracted by the cheesy, piping hot dish set in front of you.

"I'm telling you, man, it's the fucking best," Ellie told you before digging in. You had to stifle a moan when the food hit your tongue for the first time, eternally grateful for the impeccable timing because all you could think about in that moment was how good it tasted, Joel temporarily forgotten for the first time in days.

"Didn't you eat today?" Dina asked, her lips twitching into a grin, and you shook your head.

"Not really. Haven't had much of an appetite this week," you told her, and Ellie tilted her head to the side.

"Your pain was that bad?"

"Huh?" you asked, then it dawned on you once again. The Lie. "Oh, yeah. I mean, I ate a little, I just wanted to sleep, I guess."

"Joel didn't make sure you ate?" she pressed, her eyes flicking over your shoulder. You dropped your fork, scrambling to come up with yet another lie when her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed, making you twist around to see what made her demeanor change so suddenly.

As you expected, she was looking in Joel's direction, but he was no longer looking at your table. It was impossible considering Angie was standing directly in front of him, blocking his view with her body, her hand resting on the back of his chair.

"What is she up to now?" Dina murmured to Ellie, but you could hardly register her words. The way your anger ignited deep within your chest and licked up your throat, it was a miracle you even remembered to breathe. Joel's legs shifted, knees turned away from her, but that was all you could see. You couldn't see the look on his face or hear what was said. You couldn't see where his hands were. But you could see Angie flick her long, straight hair over her shoulder with a flirty laugh that was clearly meant to pull attention onto her.

If you didn't have tunnel vision, you would have noticed she was successful. A few heads turned, men's eyes lingering on her backside while women's eyes darted in your direction, but you were incapable of processing any of it. Ellie was saying your name, but you couldn't hear her over the ringing in your ears.

It was less than a minute. Thirty seconds, tops, and she walked away from him with a sickly grin plastered across her face, her two friends returning her mischievous smile before flanking her side, making their way towards the exit like a swarm of bees.

Without even thinking, you stood up.

"What are you doing?" Ellie asked, but you ignored her. Instead, you pushed your way through the crowd in a trance, shouldering people out of your way without so much as an apology, too laser focused on your target to care.

"Joel!" Ellie called out to him. He was rubbing his face angrily, trying to avoid his brother's eyes glaring at him in disbelief over what he just overheard Angie say when he heard Ellie. Great, she knows, too, he initially thought, but when he looked up and saw Ellie and Dina, panic-stricken, making their way towards the exit, he realized something was happening. He didn't see you until you emerged from the crowd and reached for the door, swinging it open and allowing a cool blast of air into the room before disappearing outside.

"Oh, shit," Joel mumbled, snatching his coat and forcing his way through all the people as quickly as he could. Tommy followed, confused at first, until he realized you were no longer at your table and then it clicked.

By the time you made it outside, you nearly missed where they went, but luck was on your side because her high-pitched giggle danced through the bitter cold air and you twisted your head to the left, just in time to see the three women in the shadow of night round a corner and head down a residential street.

You were nearly running to catch up with them, but you couldn't feel your feet hit the ground or hear the gravel crunching under your boots. And neither did they, because when you found yourself less than ten feet away, they were still giggling and talking animatedly amongst themselves, completely oblivious to your presence.

Skidding to a stop, you shouted, "Hey!"

All three women swirled around in surprise, their eyes wide and their smiles slipping from their faces when they sensed the rage radiating from your body. But even still, Angie tried to play dumb.

"Can we help you?" she asked sarcastically with a dry laugh, but when you took a step forward, she went quiet.

"Yeah," you sneered, fists clenching at your sides, "I had a question for you, actually."

Angie looked perplexed, not expecting that, so she held her hands out to her side, urging you to continue while Ellie and Dina caught up, standing a few paces back.

"Did you run out of dick to suck in this town or are you just that fucking bored you thought you'd give home wrecking a try?"

Dina snickered behind you and Ellie gasped.

"Home wrecking?" she replied, raising her eyebrow and crossing her arms. "Is that what you'd call your man following me into the ladies room at the bar so he could shove his tongue down my throat?"

Your nostrils flared and your ears began to make that buzzing noise again, so you dug your nails into your palms, desperately trying to ground yourself.

"Can I even call him your man?" she taunted, feeling like she got the upper hand. "Are you even together anymore? You clearly don't fuck him if he was looking for it from-"

You couldn't even remember moving. Your feet had a mind of their own as you closed the distance between you with two long strides and swung your arm back with as much force as you could muster, backhanding Angie right across the mouth.

Her hands flew up to her face and her two friends stumbled backwards in surprise, but all you saw was red. Before she could recover, you grabbed her by the coat and threw her down onto the muddy street, knocking the wind out of her with a sharp gasp. Quickly, before she could get up, you straddled her midsection. With your left hand pressing down on her chest and your right balled into a fist near your head, you landed a punch right on her perfect little nose with a sickening crunch, causing a trail of blood to trickle out of her nostrils seconds later. But that didn't stop you. You kept going, your knuckles, now bloody, marring her flesh over and over again, but when you made contact with her jawbone, you flinched, a jolt of pain shooting down your middle finger making you pause.

That was when Angie saw her opportunity.

She vaulted you off her with her hips and she rolled to her side, pinning you to the ground with blood dripping down her face. She scratched desperately at your eyes and mouth, your hands coming up to protect yourself with a yelp, before she began landing weak punches against your cheek and mouth. And even though they weren't as forceful as your hits, her weight pinning you down kept you from reclaiming the upper hand.

Ellie and Dina were shouting your name, but you tuned them out. All you could focus on was Angie, blocking her punches as best you could while you waited for your opportunity to take her down.

Then, Angie's hand wrapped around your throat, her fingers pressing into your windpipe. Your hands grabbed her wrist as you fought for air and violently thrashed underneath her.

"Face it," she hissed, leaning down and putting more pressure against your throat, "If it was that easy, I was doing you a favor. He never really loved you, you were just an easy fuck before your brain got all scrambled."

Her words were exactly what you needed to get your second wind.

With an angry roar, you punched her right in the throat, and although you couldn't get much force behind it, it was enough to make her loosen her grip in surprise. And just as Tommy and Joel were running up the street, you tossed Angie to the side and scrambled back on top of her. But this time, you didn't stop.

You were merciless, your hands were a blur. Fists rained down blows upon her face while she desperately tried to shield herself, but it was no use.

"Stop!" she sobbed, begging, but the fear in her voice just egged you on.

Blood began to stain her yellow hair, her perfect skin began to turn red and purple while your fists never stopped, each blow creating a new mark or cut. You couldn't stop if you tried. Something snapped and you unlocked a part of yourself you didn't know, or didn't remember, existed. Some part of you that was a warrior. A fighter. A survivor. And it wasn't until Joel hooked his arms underneath yours and hauled you back that you finally stopped, your chest heaving and your eyes wild.

"Y-you crazy b-bitch!" Angie sputtered, blood trickling from her nose and mouth as Tommy knelt in front of her.

"You haven't seen crazy!" you screamed as you kicked and struggled to get out of Joel's grip. Tommy reached down to help Angie up and he motioned for her friends to come forward. "Stay the fuck away from us or I'll fucking kill you!" you shouted, "You hear me, you fucking whore? I will fucking kill you!"

"Calm down!" Joel yelled from behind, but your blood boiled as you focused your rage on him.

"Get your fucking hands off me," you snarled, wrenching your arms out of his grasp. "This is your fault!" you continued, pointing your finger in his face and backing away, ignoring the tortured look he gave you. A sick part of you was pleased to see the sting of your words land.

"I think she needs to see Nick," Tommy said as both of Angie's friends struggled to help her up.

"She's lucky she's alive," you snapped as you wiped the back of your hand over your bloody face.

"Holy shit, dude," Ellie murmured as you turned around, her eyes all wide with shock.

"I'm going home," you grumbled, wiping more blood from your cheek as you began the journey back to your house on shaky legs, wondering how on earth you were expected to share a space with Joel after tonight. Dina and Ellie exchanged some quick words as you left before Ellie quickly caught up with you.

"I'll clean you up."

"You don't-"

"I know. But I want to," she said, wrapping her arm around your shoulder, and it took everything in you not to lean into her and let her drag you home.

You were exhausted. Mentally and physically. And you just wanted to go to bed. But you were grateful for Ellie. Someone who cared, someone who saw you were hurting and needed help without having to ask for it. So you let her clean you up in your bathroom when you arrived back home, her nimble fingers delicately pressing against your wounds, cleansing them as best she could before pressing band aids and butterfly bandages against your cuts and then making you an ice pack to help with the swelling.

She tucked you into bed and made you drink some water before sitting down on the edge of your mattress with a sigh.

"I had no idea," she began, and you quickly waved her off.

"I know. It's... I know," you said, at a loss for words.

"You didn't really hurt your back, did you?" she asked, and you slowly shook your head. "That motherfucker," she seethed, "I can't believe him, I'm going to kill him, I swear-"

"Just leave him alone," you told her, "Let me handle it."

The two of you sat quietly for a moment, each of you lost in your own thoughts before she spoke again.

"It wasn't like that before," she began, and at first you weren't following, but then you realized: she was talking about before your accident. "You were crazy about each other. Angie was never an issue. Neither of you paid her any attention. She just saw an opportunity and took advantage," Ellie said as her fingers tangled in her lap. "I shouldn't even be saying this, it feels like I'm defending him, but I swear. I was with you guys all the time. You were in love, man."

"Things changed, I guess," you said sadly, but she shook her head.

"You guys are what inspired me and Dina to go for it," she said softly, avoiding your gaze. "We were scared, but I saw how you two were together and how you made it work and, I don't know," she said, picking at her fingernail, "I guess what I'm trying to say is, I look up to you guys. And it's kind of fucking with my head right now that all this is happening."

"Ellie, no," you said, shifting a bit in bed and reaching out to her. "Don't say that. Don't question what you and Dina have because of me and Joel."

She swallowed and looked at you, her eyes soft and worried.

"Why did he do it?" she asked quietly, and you could hear the pain in her voice. Pressing your lips together, you shrugged.

"It's complicated."

She nodded and looked away. "Will you do me a favor?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Would you give him a chance? Just hear him out and let him explain?" she begged, and you immediately bristled. "You don't have to forgive him. Just... don't give up yet. Please. He loves you, I know it, and... and I think you love him, too."

You scoffed then cleared your throat, your fingers coming up to press gently on your tender neck. "I don't love him," you croaked, but she shook her head.

"If you don't love him then why do you care so much?" she countered, and you fell silent, unable to give her an answer, eyes drifting aimlessly around the room. "Why did you almost kill Angie for sleeping with him if you didn't love him?"

"Sleeping with - no, Ellie. They didn't have sex. He kissed her," you quickly explained, and her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"You rearranged her face because he kissed her?" she asked in disbelief, then laughed softly and stood up. "I'm not saying he didn't fuck up, but dude. Come on. You gotta see it, now, right?"

You took a deep breath and rubbed your eyes.

"Alright. For you, I'll... talk to him, or whatever," you grumbled half-heartedly.

"Thank you," she said, her voice sounding more like herself once again before turning to leave and allowing you to rest. If you had any inkling she was trying to manipulate you into forgiving Joel, it was quickly expunged because you awoke an hour later to her arguing with him in the living room when he arrived home, the conversation ending with her storming out of the house and then his weary footsteps slowly climbing up the stairs.

Once again, you watched as he paused outside your room, two narrow shadows cast by his legs breaking up the thin beam of light under your door until he thought better of it and kept walking, his own bedroom door closing softly with a click.

The pain was worse the next morning, but you refused to admit it. The cuts burned and the bruises throbbed, but you were too stubborn to let any weakness show, although one look at your bruised neck would tell anyone the truth. You forced yourself out of bed, feeling too guilty to bail on Nick after already taking so many days off to wallow in your own misery, and washed up before heading downstairs. Much to your surprise, Joel was sitting at the kitchen table, his big hand cupping a mug of coffee while he stared blankly at the wall, lost in his own thoughts. When you first saw his face, the bags under his eyes evident, even from across the room, it was clear he hardly got any sleep.

Good, you thought. Then you remembered your promise to Ellie and bit back whatever nasty remark you were getting ready to toss his way. Instead, you dragged yourself to the coffee maker, ignoring the mug Joel left out for you and choosing your own, unable to resist the urge to be just a little bit spiteful.

He cleared his throat as you poured your coffee, a warning he was about to speak, and your shoulders tensed.

"How're you feelin'?"

"About as good as I look," you muttered, bringing the coffee to your lips and taking a tiny sip before turning around. He looked up at you, for the first time seeing the extent of your injuries and he jolted forward in his chair, fighting back the instinct to stand up and inspect your wounds. He blinked rapidly, gaze skirting over your face and neck, worry etching his features until you sighed.

"It's not really that bad," you admitted, looking down at your feet.

"Tell Nick t'give you somethin' when you get to work," he said, voice strained. You nodded and took another sip of your coffee. He swallowed nervously before inching forward in his chair and clasping his hands between his knees. "I'm sorry," he said, the words laced with guilt and shame. "I'm so sorry, I fucked up. But you gotta believe me, I didn't go out that night lookin' for her or anyone else. I just wanted to drink and be alone for a little while." He rubbed his palms over his face while you still stared down at the floor, listening.

"I believe you," you finally said after a tense stretch of silence. He dropped his hands and looked up.

"You do?"

"Doesn't mean I forgive you, but I believe you didn't run out of here looking to shove your tongue down someone else's throat."

He grimaced and dropped his chin to his chest.

"D'you think-" he cut himself off and took a deep breath before forcing himself to look at you again. "D'you think you could ever forgive me?"

You closed your eyes and pressed your lips into a thin line.

"I don't know," you said quietly. Your head was pounding, so you rubbed your forehead, his eyes trained on you anxiously from across the room, knee bouncing slightly as he waited to hear you say anything that would give him a glimmer of hope. "You really fucking hurt me, Joel," you said, trying to hide your lower lip as it trembled, but he heard the pain in your voice and it broke his heart.

"I know, I'm an asshole and I don't deserve you. I never did. Not after what happened at the hospital and definitely not now," he said, standing up and taking a few hesitant steps in your direction, stopping when he reached the kitchen island. "But I'll do whatever it takes. I'll wait as long as I need to, I'll spend the rest of my life makin' it up to you, prove to you that-"

"I don't want to lead you on, Joel," you said solemnly, eyes watering. "I can't promise I'll ever move past it. I'm not sure we're strong enough to get through this."

"Yes, we are," he told you adamantly, "I don't want anyone else. I only want you. You ain't leadin' me on because I don't wanna go anywhere else. I don't care what that looks like in the future, I'll take whatever you give me, that's all I want."

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the wobble in his voice, and looked into the living room, the framed photo of your house that Ellie drew for you several Christmases ago, the same one you read about in your journal, catching your eye, and you felt yourself tear up.

I just want to go home, you thought, but home no longer existed. This was your home, like it or not.

You turned away, looking out the window over the sink blinking back tears, but Joel had already followed your gaze to the photo.

"I should get going," you said, voice thick. You chugged whatever coffee you could and dumped the rest in the sink.

"I'm gonna make it up to you," he said, following you to the door, "I'm gonna make this right." You scoffed.

"Yeah, okay," you mumbled sarcastically, shoving on your boots and coat before swinging open the door and heading out into the frigid winter morning, big flakes of snow slowly swirling and falling from the sky as Joel watched you trudge down the street, hunched over and curled in on yourself. A shell of the person he knew you to be.

He did that. He caused you pain. And it made him sick.

But at least he finally thought of a way he could prove how much you meant to him.

Sweat covered your forehead by the time you made it to the infirmary, your wool knit cap to blame for the excessive heat pouring from your head while your face was ice cold. You yanked it off your head and shed your coat before making your way to the back, your hair sticking to your forehead. Nick was nowhere to be found, but one of the exam room doors was closed and you heard voices murmuring on the other side. Assuming he had an early patient, you pulled your hair back and got to work. It was supposed to be a quiet day. Nick wanted you to work on an updated inventory list after getting a big batch of supplies two weeks prior from an unexplored hole-in-the-wall pharmacy.

The exam room door swung open, the voices clearer now, and your shoulders stiffened when you recognized the patient. You should have assumed Angie would be there that day, but for some reason it hadn't occurred to you.

Your anger had diffused a bit since the night before, that raw, exposed nerve quelled by time, but that didn't stop you from glaring at her as she passed by the inventory closet. Her swollen eyes widened with fear when she saw you and for the first time, you got a good look at the damage you inflicted. Her nose was clearly broken, she was missing a tooth and both eyes were black and blue, but the cuts on her cheeks and lips were superficial, at best.

She kept walking, not daring to say a word in your direction as your eyes followed her out the door. When she left, Nick turned around with a sigh and crossed his arms.

"How're you feeling?"

You shrugged and turned back to your clipboard. "I'm alright."

"You look like shit," he said, sidling up next to you and plucking the ibuprofen from the shelf. He tapped out two pills and dropped them into your palm before closing the bottle, putting it back where it belonged. "Did you eat?"

With just a shake of your head you popped the pills, swallowing them dry before turning back to your task.

"You gotta eat something with those, it'll tear up your stomach," he said, disappearing down the hallway and coming back a few minutes later with an apple. You grimaced but took it anyway, unable to stop your mind from replaying the memory of peeling apples with Joel just a week prior. Before everything went to hell.

Nick watched you quietly for a moment as you chewed your apple slowly and read down the list of medications on your clipboard.

"Do you, uh," he began, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, "do you need someone to talk to?" You glanced up at him in surprise and he dropped his hand back to his side. "We don't have to talk about it. But I know you still feel like you're a stranger in this town, and that's gotta be tough." He scratched his greying chin as he glanced around the room and you had to fight back the laugh that bubbled up your throat. You couldn't help it.

He noticed the amused look on your face at his discomfort and pretended to be annoyed when he muttered, "just come find me if you wanna talk or whatever," but you knew it was just an act. Nick was typically a quiet man, kept to himself and hardly ever spoke to his patients, let alone you, his employee, about personal matters. The fact he was trying now must mean he really thought you needed it.

The older man disappeared down the hall to his office and you smiled to yourself, then focused back on work, grateful for something that took your mind off your misery, even if it was just for a moment.

"What the hell do you want?" Tommy scowled when he flung open his door to find his older brother waiting on the other side, hands shoved deep in his pockets, weight shifting foot to foot in an effort to keep warm.

"C'mon, Tommy, I'm gettin' it from all angles, here."

"I don't give a shit," he spat, turning on his heel to retreat back into the house, but left the front door open. Joel took a step inside and quietly shut the door behind him, glancing around the entryway and peering into the living room as he took off his outerwear.

"Maria home?"

"No, she's down at the stables with Violet. Showin' her the horses, gettin' her outta the house," he grumbled, angrily putting away dishes as he spoke. Joel sighed and flattened his palms against the counter.

"I gotta ask for a favor."

Tommy scoffed and shook his head. "You're a piece of work, y'know that?"

"Yeah, I fuckin' know. Jesus Christ, Tommy, I made one goddamn mistake!" Joel yelled, slapping his hand against the cool countertop. Tommy twisted around, brow furrowed, and crossed his arms.

"Don't take an attitude with me," Tommy said through clenched teeth, "I don't give a shit if everyone's gangin' up on you. You deserve it! I thought she was the one you wanted to spend your life with? The one you'd do anythin' for?"

"She is!" Joel exclaimed, raking his fingers through his hair. Tommy's eyes softened while he watched his brother struggle, the enormity of what he did clearly taking its toll.

"Then what the fuck were you thinkin'?" he asked after a few moments, tone pleading. "Everythin' was goin' so well. You guys were havin' a nice time at the party, laughin' and smilin', we all saw it. Then you take 'er home and step out like that?"

"It's not- I was drunk and misread some things," Joel replied, rubbing his eyes with the pads of his fingers. "I tried to kiss her, she shot me down and I didn't take it all that well, alright?" Joel dropped his hand, exasperated, and looked at Tommy once again, taking a deep breath. "Went to the bar to drink and Angie sunk her claws into me. I got the hell outta there and confessed the second I got home but... didn't matter," he said, hanging his head between his shoulders.

"Angie said you followed her into the bathroom, Joel. Don't bullshit me, I was sittin' right there."

"I know, Jesus, it's my fault. I was drinkin' and upset and she was just... there. Pesterin' me and pushin' my buttons. It was only a second, Tommy. Nothin' else happened, y'hear me?" Joel's eyes were wide and desperate as he stared at his little brother across the kitchen.

"It's no excuse, Joel," Tommy said sadly. Joel pushed off the counter with a huff and yanked angrily at his disheveled hair again.

"I know that. I'm just tellin' you how it went down. But I gotta make it up to her. I gotta make it right."

"How the hell do you plan on doin' that? 'Cause from where I'm sittin', only way she could move past it is if I take her back out into the woods so she can hit her head again and forget," Tommy said.

Joel rolled his eyes and slumped into a chair at the kitchen table.

"I got an idea. Don't know if it'll work, but it's all I can think of to prove what she means to me," he said softly, staring down at his fingers twisting together in his lap.

Tommy sized his brother up and down before taking a few steps closer, his hands coming to grip the back of a chair as he leaned forward.

"Let's hear it."

Joel sighed and tilted his chin up. "I need a week off from patrol. I gotta leave Jackson. And I need a horse."

"What?" Tommy asked incredulously. "In the middle of winter? Absolutely not. You'll die out there."

"I survived out there before I came to Jackson, I'll be fine."

"Been a long fuckin' time and you weren't alone when you did it," Tommy argued.

"You offerin' to help?" Joel asked, and Tommy laughed dryly. But Joel continued to stare at him.

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"'Course I am," Joel replied, "she ain't ever gonna forgive me but I gotta do somethin', Tommy. I can't lose her, and right now, it really feels like I'm gonna lose her." Joel's voice cracked and he turned away, looking out the window so Tommy couldn't see the emotion behind his eyes.

Tommy groaned and yanked a chair out to sit down.

"What'dya need me to do?"

It was a long day on your feet and your face hurt more than you cared to admit, so by the time you arrived home, you decided to make yourself a sandwich and go to bed early, skipping an appearance at the dining hall where you knew half the town would be gawking at you and your wounds, anyway.

Fortunately, Joel was up in his room with the door closed when you quietly snuck upstairs with your sandwich. You were still emotionally exhausted from your brief conversation that morning and you were grateful he wasn't looking to have another one.

Nick had sent you home with one of the good pills, as he called it, so you took it with your meal and within the hour, you were out cold. Maybe if you hadn't taken the pill, you would have been awake to hear Joel's bedroom door squeak open, the rustling of fabric and the tinkling of metal cutting through the quiet hallway as he gripped his sleeping bag in one hand and his backpack stuffed with supplies in the other.

Like he usually did, he paused outside your room, his eyes lingering on the doorknob, ears straining for any sign that you were awake, that maybe you had a change of heart and he could call the whole trip off, but he was only met with silence.

He swallowed and turned towards the stairs, quietly tiptoeing down and packed another bag with food from the pantry before setting all three items by the door. At the last minute, he decided to leave a note, not even certain you would notice or care he was gone, but he knew Tommy would be furious when he found out he lied to him earlier and he really didn't want his brother to waste manpower trying to hunt him down in the wilderness. So he grabbed a pen from a drawer and an old envelope. The tip of his pen hovered over the paper as he struggled with what to say, then finally decided to keep it brief before scribbling his note, leaving it by the coffee maker where he knew you would see it.

Lastly, he strode into the living room and grabbed one more thing, shoving it into his backpack before piling on his layers and heading out the front door, giving the house one last forlorn glance before slipping quietly into the night.

It was your day off, so naturally you allowed yourself to sleep in a little, hoping that the extra rest would help your bruises to heal. At the very least, you were pleased to discover the pain around your throat was significantly better than the day before.

You didn't hear Joel when you got up, but that was typical. He usually had early morning patrol shifts and was back by the afternoon, but when you came downstairs and saw the coffee wasn't made like it normally was, you froze. Your eyes drifted around, noticing his coat and boots were missing.

Maybe he was running behind and just didn't have time to make coffee.

As unusual as that might be, it was the only logical conclusion until you walked over to the coffee maker and saw an aged envelope sticking out of your favorite mug. You frowned and picked it up, eyes quickly scanning the words once, then three more times before the panic set in, your stomach churning worse and worse each time.

Tell Tommy I'll be back in a week.

He knows why.

No matter what, just know I love you with my whole heart, in this world or the next.

Joel

Boots unlaced and coat unzipped, you raced down the street towards Tommy's house, the envelope gripped tightly in your fist.

What the hell did that mean? Where did he go? What is he doing? And why did he sneak out without telling Tommy?

You banged on the door, the wood rattling violently under your clenched fist, only afterwards realizing you could have been waking their daughter but fortunately when the door opened, you saw Violet and Maria playing in the living room over Tommy's shoulder.

"What's goin' on, sugar? You okay?" he asked, voice filled with concern when he saw the look on your face.

"Joel's gone," you said hurriedly before pushing past him and entering the house, yanking off your hat and exchanging glances with Maria from across the room.

"Gone? What'dya mean, gone?"

"I mean I woke up today and he was gone, Tommy!" you exclaimed, handing him the note. "Where did he go?!"

You were aware your voice was panicky, that your eyes were wide with fear and your breath was fast and shallow, but you didn't care how it looked to them in that moment.

Tommy scanned the note and sighed, rubbing his forehead before urging you to join him in the living room, where he collapsed onto the sofa.

"That idiot," he murmured under his breath, handing you back the envelope.

"Where is he, Tommy?" you tried again, hoping to sound less frantic this time.

He glanced at Maria before meeting your gaze.

"He was here yesterday afternoon. Told me he needed a favor. Said he needed a week off from patrol and a horse."

"To do what?" you pressed, sinking down into an armchair next to the couch.

"He said-" he cut himself off and looked down at the note in your hand, ticking his jaw to the side as if he was contemplating how much to tell you.

"Spit it out," you demanded, and his eyes snapped back up to you.

"Said he had a plan to make things up to you. For, y'know," he waved his hand in the air, not wanting to say it. You shook your head.

"What was his plan?"

"He wouldn't tell me everything but I offered to help," Tommy admitted, glancing guiltily at Maria who shot him a surprised glare. "Said he needed to go to California, that he wanted to bring a piece of you back. I'm guessin' you're from out that way?" Tommy asked, and you nodded slowly. "He said he would wait 'til I talked to Maria and worked out the schedule but I guess he decided to fuck off-"

"Tommy!" Maria scolded sharply, covering Violet's ears, and Tommy cringed.

"Sorry," he said softly before turning back to you. "Guess he decided to lone-wolf it."

Your eyes drifted back to the note in your hand, swallowing the lump in your throat while your mind raced to catch up.

"What if he doesn't make it?" you asked, eyes still glued to the envelope, "what if he dies out there and it's all my fault?"

They heard your voice waver and exchanged sympathetic looks.

"He made a choice, he knew the risks," Maria said, "but he's a capable guy. If there were anybody who could make it out there alone, it's Joel."

"Listen, I'd send a couple guys out there lookin' for him but there's a storm brewin'," Tommy said, rubbing his chin and glancing out the window. "Been watchin' those clouds build up over the mountains all week. Told Joel as much and he agreed to wait but reckon he changed his mind and wanted to get in front of it."

"Or it was his plan all along to leave alone and he just made sure no one would come after him," Maria said, making the three of you fall quiet.

"God, what do I do?" you murmured, burying your face in your hands.

Tommy glanced at Maria and she subtly nodded towards the kitchen. He stood and cleared his throat before reaching his arms out towards his daughter.

"C'mere, let's get you somethin' to eat before naptime," he said, lifting Violet and taking her into the kitchen to give you both some privacy.

"What's going on?" Maria asked softly as she sat down in Tommy's place on the couch. You sighed and dropped your hands to your lap.

"I don't know," you said truthfully, "I'm so fucking angry at him, but..."

Maria pursed her lips knowingly. "But you still care."

You groaned and leaned back into the chair. "Yes."

"It's not like you're telling me or anyone else something we didn't already know," she said, "not after what happened with you and Angie in the middle of the street. I mean, look at you," she pointed to your bruised neck. "No one fights like that for someone they don't love."

"I don't love him," you said sternly, eyes flashing angrily in her direction. "You sound like Ellie."

"Okay, so if two people are telling you-"

"I don't want to talk about it right now," you abruptly stood up, brushing your palms on your jeans. "Sorry to barge in like this. I'm sure he'll be fine. I'm actually looking forward to a week of quiet," you tried to say confidently despite how tight your throat felt as you headed towards the door.

Maria called your name as she trailed after you, urging you to stay and talk, but you just pressed your lips together and shook your head.

"Seriously, I'm fine," you said, forcing a smile across your face. "I have some stuff to do so I'll see you guys at dinner or something."

Before she or Tommy could say anything else, you slipped out the door and rushed down the street, back towards home.

It wasn't until later that afternoon, after you had scrubbed clean the kitchen and bathrooms, doing anything and everything you could to stay busy, that you noticed the missing picture from the wall in the living room.

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goldenhypen · 6 months

Text

. ⊹ just like this ˚ ͎ ｡

syn. taking care of jake when he gets sick, all because you refused to bring a jacket.

pair. jake x reader · wc. 1k · contains. fluff, catching a cold, mentions of food/drink

a/n. ^^ jake has the prettiest smile- nearly forgot this was just sitting in my drafts waiting to see the light of day- so now hopefully at least someone can enjoy it :’>

“damn, as much as i love to kiss you, your lips are freezing,” jake explained after he pulled away with hints of worry in his voice. “oh my, your hands are cold too. i told you you should’ve brought a jacket. you’re freezing.”

it had only been a few seconds but somehow, your lips were already missing the warmth of his own on yours.

“n-no”—stupid stutter—you denied through chattering teeth as the rest of your body began to shiver.

“really,” he said in more of a challenging tone through a chuckle, rather than a question, as he perked up a brow.

he already shrugged off most of his own jacket before you could even think of protesting, and within approximately three seconds, his coat was already hung over your shoulders, sheltering you from the chilling breeze, immediately feeling warmth shoot throughout your body.

“better?” he smirked.

“yes,” you half-guiltily admitted. “you’re going to get sick though.”

the frown on your face didn’t leave even as his next words left his throat, “well, better me than you.”

“no, jake,” you said as your pout grew longer.

“you know why?”

“hm?”

he paused as a smirk travelled to his lips before answering, “because then i’ll get to have you as my caretaker.”

“pfft—please. no, you're not. i’m telling you to take your jacket back, but you’re not letting me give it back to you. so that would be your fault.”

“ouch, someone is really eager to not take care of their boyfriend. okay, i see how it is,” he said with a dramatic frown.

you looked at him as you shook your head and rolled your eyes, “jake, no, i—”

“it’s fine! still better me than you though,” he said —if it was even possible—with more drama in his tone than before as he began to walk away.

you ran to catch up with him and took his still warm hand in both of yours as you looked into his eyes, but being the petty boy he was, who liked playing these silly games, he only continued walking, gaze straight ahead, refusing to look in your direction.

the rest of your date went on, with him eventually forgetting how he had planned on staying dramatic for as long as he could, and he made sure his jacket wasn’t let off your shoulders until you both got home, an immediate rush of warm air filling your bodies. momentarily, you took in the relaxing sensation, closing your eyes.

“want some hot cocoa?” jake asked, whipping you back to reality.

you gave him a small smile, followed by a satisfied nod at the idea. you could already feel the hot beverage flowing down your throat, warming up your insides.

you followed jake to the kitchen. and that was when you heard a sneeze just a few feet ahead.

“jake…”

he cleared his throat. “what? it was just a sneeze.”

“if you’re sick—”

“i’m alright. don’t worry.”

sceptical, you nodded.

later as you two cuddled up on the couch under a fluffy blanket, hands wrapped around a nice cup of hot cocoa, jake furrowed his brows. “why is it so cold in here?”

you turned your head to face him with a questioning look. “i’m not cold.”

“it’s so cold.”

“jake, love, i think it’s just you.”

he shivered, putting his mug down before drowning himself under the covers. “cold.”

you hugged him under the ocean of blanket before he said, “i think i’ve got chills.”

you sighed sadly, “and who said they weren’t sick, hm?”

he huffed out a long puff of air from his cheeks. “i don’t feel good, y/n.”

you sighed again softly, feeling bad for the boy. “okay, stay here and rest. i’ll go make you some soup.”

you let go of his already weak and exhausted form before standing up, beginning to make your way toward the kitchen as you heard a “thanks, i love you!”

⎯ ❤︎ ⎯

“okay, i’m back with soup.” you placed it on the table in front of him. “it’s hot, be careful.”

“thanks, love.”

you watched as he took his first few spoonfuls, your hand reached behind his head as you ran it up and down his back soothingly.

after a moment of silence as he drank his soup, a sudden eruption of giggles filled the room.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, subconsciously beginning to laugh with him.

“i love being sick,” he said, turning to you with a cheeky grin.

“i’m sorry, you what?” you laughed, imagining you must’ve heard it wrong.

“i like being sick.”

“what? why?” you asked at his ridiculous statement.

“because i always get to have you take care of me,” he smirked, not so cheeky this time but more happy than anything.

“i—” was all you managed to push out, speechless.

“told you you’d take care of me,” he then said proudly victorious, chin held high. “i know you well enough to know how down bad you are for me, y/n.”

you scoffed in disbelief, “oh, please. you are unbelievable.”

“i might be unbelievable, but i’m not wrong,” he continued playfully.

“okay, mr. smarty pants. you win. i do love you, and what about it?”

he giggled, coming closer and wrapping his arms around your waist, tucking his head into the crook of your neck.

no matter how long you two had been together, him doing this exact form of physical touch never failed to make everything in your body go weak, except your heart, its pace beating so fast, you were almost afraid it would leap out of your chest any minute.

“i love you more,” he breathed into your neck with a smile.

you wrapped your arms around him before starting, “okay, you big baby,” you tapped your hand in a repeating motion on his back, “i think you should get some sleep now. your body needs it.”

you felt as he nodded into your neck. “mhm. just like this.” he said, referring to the way you were tangled in each others arms, bodies sharing warmth, and breaths moving in sync. he closed his eyes. “this is exactly what i need to feel better.”

a/n. ahhh yall pls lmk if you liked this cuz idk if it’s me just second guessing myself but im feeling quite unsure about this one 🫠 and as always, thanks for reading <33

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taglist 1. @raimbows4u @sultrybaby @kpop-nct @ajayke-reads @wccycc @enhacolor @enhasfever @nokacchan @yizhoutv @xiaoderrrr @soobin-chois @tyunni @shinsou-rii @vickytodoroki @softkpopplace @belle643 @nar-nia @rapmonie2047 @sunjakes @w3bqrl @ethereal-engene @exohclipse @yeosayang @4ri-ki @aeriil11 @jaeyunjakesim @whoschr @enaus @hoes4hoseok @palajae @annoyingbitch83 @kpoprhia @rcrystallocks @stepout-09-15 @zeraaax @enhasengene @atrirose @pistachiophobia @svnoofy @sweetjaemss @vatterie @majesticallymark @mnsnts @en-chantedtomeetyou @yeseoist @milisabunny @wonniestars @kazmura @nicholasluvbot @haechansbbg

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dixonsbrat · 2 months

Text

𖥔 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𖥔

summary ; eddie finally admits that he can't get you, his best friend, out of his head.

notes ; potential cussing, mentions of weed and the reader having hair. let me know if i forgot anything !

do not transfer, translate or share my work to any other sites.

it was midnight on a friday, now turned saturday, and the low sound of rain hitting the roof of your trailer had been accompanying you as you watched your film. usually, eddie would be with you, curled up in your bed, watching whatever movie it was that you had picked out with his hands trailing through your hair because he knew you loved it.

the sound of knuckles rapping on the trailer door drags your attention away from the movie, and it's not until then that you eventually pull yourself from the sheets. there was only ever one person that would come knocking so late at night, and the small "open up, my ass is freezing" that follows, only solidifies your thoughts.

eddie was your best friend — he was also the best friend you could ever ask for — protective, compassionate, understanding. he saw the world in you, much like you did him, and it had been that way ever since you were kids.

giggling to yourself, you straighten out the shirt you were wearing, an old one of eddie's that he no longer wore, and opened the door to see him leaning against the frame. a smirk is splayed across his lips, his unruly hair slightly damp and covered in tiny raindrops as it fell over his dewy brown eyes, and he pulls something from his back pocket.

"wanna go for a drive?" he wriggles his brows, holding a joint between his pale fingers.

"and by 'drive'... you mean?"

"getting high in the back of my van." he answers almost immediately. you don't respond, instead, you narrow your eyes at him for a second. the hint of a smile makes an appearance, and he takes the little roll of your eyes as a 'yes'.

you give him a light shove, though he adds to the theatrics and plays along as if it had actually hurt before inviting himself in and closing the door. "i would've come by earlier but hellfire ran a little later than i thought it would, and then i got carried away planning out next weeks part of the campaign." he plants himself on the sofa, kicking his feet up on the coffee table as you search through your basket of discarded laundry to find some pants.

"have they worked out you're bringing vecna back, yet?" you ask, sifting to the bottom of the pile and plucking out a pair to slip on.

"no, but dustin made a huge move tonight and i think they could be close to finding out."

as eddie continues to relay the events that had unfolded at hellfire, you head to your room to grab a jacket, though upon your return, you notice he had suddenly gone quiet. there wasn't but a murmur or an utterance that fell from his lips.

he remains on the sofa, his head lulled back against the cushions as he stares at the roof. something had shifted in his demeanour. his eyes no longer sparkled with passion like they had only moments ago, and his ever-so-lovable smirk had disappeared.

"you okay, eds?" you ask, adorning a now worrisome frown, and you sit on your side to face him. your knee hits his thigh, and the chain on his pants clangs together, but he doesn't answer, his mind a million miles away. "eds?" you poke him gently.

"hmm, what?" he clicks back to reality, eyes wide when he sees you're beside him now. he blinks back whatever had been plaguing his mind, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, and looks to you once more. "what were you saying?"

"i wasn't saying anything, you were, and then you went quiet." you give a lopsided smile, leaning your arm against the back of the sofa to rest your head on. "what's going on inside that pretty little head of yours?"

he blushes, relishing in the way you call him pretty, and his head sinks with a sigh, "m’just thinking."

"you? eddie munson? thinking?" there's another tug at his lips, the ghost of a smile appearing before it's gone once again. he lets out another sigh, eyes avoiding you now, and that's when you know something is truly bothering him. "okay, sit. tell me what's wrong." you pat your thigh.

obliging, eddie moves to rest his head on you, your fingers immediately finding his hair and entangling among the curly locks. ever since you were little eddie had always been an open book to you, constantly telling you what was on his mind, never keeping anything hidden. more times than not, you knew what was wrong with him before he did, but this... this seemed different.

it takes him a moment, but eventually, he opens his mouth to speak, the gears turning in his head, "do you ever think about getting out of here?"

"out of hawkins?"

"yeah. like just packing a bag and leaving?"

"like.. every day."

"where would you go?" he looks up at you through the shaggy mess of his bangs, a quirk in his smile as his dimples peak through now.

you shrug, "anywhere is better than here. what about you?"

"oh, i'd pack up my van in a heartbeat. take my guitars, my tapes, my dnd stuff and just take off. don't know where, but as long as i'm on the road, i don't care." it was hard not to notice the way his eyes lit up as he spoke about hitting the road, though the pang in your chest that followed after him mentioning leaving, set a wave of fear over you.

for so long eddie had been a part of your life, the one constant you had as you grew. it was hard to ever imagine a life without him because... you didn't want to. after spending so many years by each other's sides, running to one another in your times of need, being the only person the other fully trusted — a life without eddie would be an empty one.

there's a flicker of fear in your eyes that eddie catches sight of before it's quickly gone. a tug between your brows as worry etches across your forehead because while the thought of leaving hawkins had crossed your mind many times, you never intended to leave eddie behind, nor would you want to. but with the roles reversed, you weren't entirely sure if you held the same amount of importance.

this hurts even more when you take into consideration the flourishing feelings you had for him. it was bound to happen — practically inevitable — but you couldn't bare the thought of him ever finding out.

a blanket of silence falls over the two of you, eddie's ringed fingers dancing across the material of the sofa until he reaches yours and pulls your hand towards his chest. he doesn't say anything, just fiddles with the ends of your fingers, before abruptly sitting up and turning to you.

there was a shift in the way he was looking at you now, almost like he had something to tell you - something that was on the tip of his tongue. he prods at the sofa nervously, before planting his hands in his lap and shuffling closer to you.

"there is one thing that i know i wouldn't be able to leave without though." he says in a way, that both confused and intrigues you. "well, i should say 'someone' rather."

"rick." you joke.

a soft chuckle leaves him, "no. though, now that you mention it-" he stops short when you playfully hit his shoulder, an array of laughter falling from you both. "i'm kidding. i'm kidding. obviously… it’s you."

"you mean that?" there’s a coy smile on your lips, unsure if his words were sincere or if he was simply saying it to make you feel better.

his brows pinch together, "of course, i do."

"what if… you get sick of me?"

"i could never get sick of you, you muppet." he ruffles your hair.

"what if i get sick of you?"

"I’m going to pretend that you didn’t just say that."

another silence falls over you both, smiling at one another, thinking of scenarios in your heads of the two of you on the road. iron maiden playing at an alarmingly loud volume as eddie sings along with the wind blowing through his hair, and he wears the biggest smile you had ever seen as you drive through the prettiest of landscapes.

"do you... do you ever think about... us?" he hums the question though there's a shakiness to it that you don't think he meant to let off.

"what? like hanging out? we already do that."

"no,” he exhales. "i mean... people say that you're likely to fall in love with your best friend. do you ever think like that about us?" the question takes you by surprise. did he somehow know of your feelings for him? your sudden silence seems to stir something in him. "uh, y'know what? just forget i said anything."

"no, eds," you reach for his hand but he moves it before you can. "do you think about us... like that?"

he peels himself off the sofa now, pacing a little on the other side of the coffee table, "no — i mean, sometimes. i just — mike said something that got me thinking and, i know that i shouldn't let that little shit get inside my head. but, i don't know, lately, i just can't seem to keep you… out of it."

you were unsure as to what eddie was implying — saying he couldn’t get you out of his head — did he mean it the same way you did? or did he just mean he had been thinking about you like he always did? "what did mike say?" your voice is low, almost too afraid to ask.

"oh, he was just being a smartass as per usual,” his brows raise as he rolls his eyes. “when i said i had to check-in with you first about whether or not we could fit in an extra hellfire session this week because we had already made plans, he said ‘why is she your girlfriend now?’ of course, i denied it, but then jeff started saying that i act like we’re a married couple, or that we’re domesticated, or some shit. and then, of course, dustin just had to chime in saying that he sees the way we look at each other — what does that even mean? — and then gareth and jeff started saying all this bullshit and-“

“-eds,” the sound of his name falling off your tongue hits him like sweet honey, stopping him mid-ramble as his head whips back to you. you stand to join him around the other side of the table, his eyes watching you with wonderment as you slowly approach him. “… i do too.”

“you do too, what?” he asks, bemused, and it’s not until you tilt your head and raise a brow that he catches on. “wait… you do?” you nod, tracing his features as he does the same to you. his eyes illuminated by the moonlight as his bangs fall in disarray, and you reach up to gently brush them back into place. “what are you doing?”

"i wanted to see your face." you say, lowly, your hands now falling to land on his shoulders.

"why?" he asks.

"i wanted to see your face..." you pause briefly, a shiver of anticipation rolling down your spine. "... when i do this." you lean forward now, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer. he's quick to catch on to what you meant, and he meets you halfway, pressing your lips together with pent-up urgency.

"y/n," he mumbles your name against your lips before slightly pulling away, leaving you breathless as your chest rises and falls dramatically. "are you sure? i don't — i don't want this to ruin anything between us." he smiles through his eyes, though there's a sadness deep within him begging for reassurance.

"what did you say to me before? about the someone you wouldn't be able to leave without?" you ask, leaving him with more questions than the ones he already had.

he exhales, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip as his hands rest on your hips. "i said... it's you."

"exactly."

#— 𝐯𝐞𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 .ᐟ ᡣ𐭩 #— 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 ᡣ𐭩 #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader

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hiraethwrote · 2 days

Text

THE HEART GROWS FONDER

pairing : kento nanami x f!reader summary : (requested) — kento nanami loved you before he even knew you, and his feelings were the one thing he never questioned. like pieces of a puzzle, you fit together. whatever happens, your feelings never waver. cw : childhood friends to lovers, reader is v emotional, canon events/jjk0 spoilers, mentions of character death, mutual and intense pining, miscommunication lack of communication, mild one-bed-trope?, platonic!satoru (bc apparently i am unable to write anything without mentioning him), light profanity, pet names, talk of wedding, sweet fluff, a good chunk of angst, slight jealousy, no use of y/n word count : 10.1 k

Kento was a knowledgeable man.

He knew how long it took to get from one place in Tokyo to another, no matter what time of day it was. Well aware of all the best routes for traveling the city most efficiently, even during rush hours.

He knew all the ways to make the most money. Not what he was proudest of, but working hard had garnered him a set of useful skills that made him a good employee, a real asset to the company.

He knew how to read a map, a skill long forgotten by most in this day and age. Should he ever find himself in a situation where there was no reception, he would be able to get his hands on a sheet displaying the nearby areas and figure out how to return to civilisation.

He knew how to best take care of his body. He had done extensive research to make sure he moved his body correctly during workouts to not harm himself. He wasn’t interested in aching joints when he was old and gray.

And he knew he loved you — since the very first moment his eyes landed on you all those years ago.

He remembered the exact moment in excruciating detail as well, like how he had turned a little scared at the unfamiliar sensation of a racing heartbeat. When pressing his hand to his chest, he felt the rapid thumping. He quickly realised it was caused by the sight of you when it happened every time he spotted you.

His dad would tease him whenever he caught Kento sitting in the windowsill, chubby cheeks resting on his forearms as he gazed lovingly towards the little girl playing in her front yard a few houses down. “I’m sure she would love to play with you.” His face would turn bright crimson, a colour that had become all too common in the Nanami household whenever you were brought up, before an embarrassed Kento would stomp up to his room.

He didn’t learn your name until the first day of school — your parents had arranged for the two of you to walk to school together. He had been over the moon when he heard the news, pure excitement filling his body to the point where he could not sit still. But the moment he was stood in front of you, your voice sweet as honey when introducing yourself, his throat dried out and he turned tongue tied. His mom placed a hand on his shoulder, bringing his feet back on the ground, “Kento,” he croaked weakly before disappearing into his jacket.

With small feet carrying you to and from school, you tried to force a conversation out of him but to no prevail. He remained shy and quiet, eventually resulting in a statement that had saddened him more than he could have anticipated; “you don’t talk much, do you?”

There had been no ill intent in your words, but it had Kento distance himself from you. What was supposed to blossom into a friendship (and maybe even more with time), only simmered down to him consistently trialing five steps behind you on the path to school that became all too bleak when it hadn’t turned out how he had imagined it.

His infatuation didn’t seem to disappear anytime soon either. If anything, now having the opportunity to observe you in closer proximity only deepened his feelings. He now got to witness the outgoing and bubbly personality that was wrapped in your cute exterior, exceeding all his expectations of what he had imagined you would be like — fascinated by how you seemed to excel in aspects where he lacked.

And the more time that passed, it seemed the day he would find the courage to catch up and walk along side you traveled further out of his reach.

He continued to admire from afar, watching as you earned yourselves new friendships as easily as putting your shoes on in the morning. Kento wasn’t the only one drawn to your outgoing personality and charming smile, his heart breaking a little when you formed a tight knit friend group and he didn’t get to be a part of it.

That’s how it went. Kento sort of just blended into the background, never making a number of himself. He was nearly certain no one really knew he even existed at all (except the teachers, who absolutely adored him). Day after day, he sat by himself with a book in his hands, only ever looking up to admire you for a few seconds as you would play with your friends.

However, he preferred the quiet life in school more than what it evolved into as second grade rolled around.

During recess, he would sit with his book, same as always, counting the minutes until school was over so he would walk those five familiar steps behind you — that’s when two third graders had approached him, their intention clear as day.

Their antics continued for two weeks — until what he thought was the voice of an angel interrupted.

“Hi there.”

Kento would recognise that voice anywhere, turning towards the source to see you, huge grin plastered on your face, both hands behind your back as you stared down the two third graders.

“What’s going on here?” You asked in such a sweet and innocent tone, but all three of the boys could see there was something borderline unfriendly in your eyes that was not present in your words.

“Doesn’t concern you,” one of the mean kids bit back.

“Hmm,” you hummed, pressing your lips together before shifting to a serious tone. “I think it does, because from over there-“ you pointed in the direction of where you had stood moments earlier, “it looked like you were picking on my friend.”

Friend? Had he heard you right?

Before they could retaliate, you had already opened your mouth again, “I’ll scream! The adults will come and you’ll be in biiiig trouble!” Your tone had been so cheerful, but that same threatening intent lingered in your gaze — a look one did not want to receive from a stubborn, little seven year old.

It seemed like your scare tactic worked, because after grumbling to themselves for a few seconds, they shuffled away with their tails between their legs. And once they were far enough away not to be a bother anymore, you squatted down on the gravel beside Kento, wrapping your arms around your legs.

“You okay, Kento?” Completely transformed, not a hint of your malice present any longer, just soft and genuine concern when speaking his name.

He blinked a few times, using the back of his hand to dry the few tears that had watered up in the corner of his eyes before he answered you. “‘M fine,” he sniffled, then daring to look you in the eyes to mutter a shy “thank you.”

“Anytime.”

You couldn’t explain why you had decided to interfere — because labelling Kento a friend wasn’t entirely true. The boy had barely said a word to you for the year you had known him, but you had just been filled with anger when you witnessed the older kids choose to pick on him. He did not have a mean bone in his body. And maybe somewhere along the line, you had gained a soft spot for the reserved kid, having not been able to stop glancing over your shoulder from time to time when you walked to and from school, just to make sure he was still there.

Never had Kento imagined that the taunting from his upperclassman would be his biggest blessing to date. He no longer sat alone during lunch, but instead accepted your invite to eat with you and your little clique.

And finally your friendship with Kento had the opportunity to grow.

Thanks to you, school had become a lot more enjoyable for him after that. The walks to and from school was no longer spent with an awkward distance, now matching your pace as you both indulged in small talk from the moment you left school until he left you at your door.

He knew he should have been satisfied, and in one way he was. He was finally allowed to call you his friend after all, but during school hours, you usually hung out the entire group. And on your spare time, you had a tendency to reserve your time just for the girls. So while he wished for more, he continued to shoot longing, and not so subtle, gazes across the table.

It abruptly changed when you were thirteen, walking home from school like any other day, when your blunt question had cut through the conversation.

“Hey, you want to go to the movies with me?”

“What?” Kento’s thirteen year old brain had not been able to comprehend the question, stopping dead in his tracks to stare at you with big eyes, swallowing the massive lump in his throat. Had you just asked him on a date?

You stopped when you noticed he did, staring right back at him like this wasn’t a big deal. “None of the girls were interested, and you’re the only boy in our group I can tolerate without any of the girls,” you rolled your eyes. You had turned a little feisty when entering your teens.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he said, drawing his lips into an awkward line, hoping he could play it off as a smile.

Your deadpanned expression immediately twisted into one of pure joy. “Great!”

Kento had stood in front of his mirror all afternoon, using both his hands to smoothen the crinkles of his shirt, treating it very much like a date. He didn’t even realise how long he had been stressing in his room until his mom came knocking, telling him you were waiting outside.

He had been a little disappointed when he saw you, because it became very evident you did not consider it a date. Wearing the same outfit you had worn to school that day, resting on the handlebars of your bike. “C’mon, we need to get popcorn before the movie starts,” you nagged, just the tiniest bit annoyed.

When stood in the kiosk, he had offered to pay for the popcorn, like the good, little gentleman he had been raised to be. “Oh, no need. Mom gave me money to pay for it,” you said cheerfully with a shrug and a smile. “Thanks, though.”

The movie couldn’t hold Kento’s attention, even if he wanted to, because for the whole ninety minutes you had your knee rested against his. The sensation of the shy touch of your leg had his heart beat so loud against his ribcage, he was scared you might turn to him and tell it to shush so you could hear the movie.

It wasn’t much, but the pressing feeling was definitely prominent enough that you had to be aware of it too. And in his mind, it seemed only logical you kept your leg still against his because you wanted it to touch him. But whenever he flickered his eyes over to you, you seemed utterly unbothered, attention fixated on the screen as your hand continued to grab popcorn from the bucket.

He tried to keep his breath even, letting his tension spill out by clenching and unclenching his fists. He was so determined to sit completely still, scared the tiniest flinch would cause you to shift your leg away from him.

Trips to the movies, just in each other’s company, became a regular occurrence after that. And about half of the time, you let him pay… only because you paid the other half, but he let himself wallow in the idea that he was treating you for the evening.

He was in high school when one of your friends had asked about it. “What’s really going on there, Kento?”

He had immediately decided to play dumb. Not because he was embarrassed, but if there was even the slightest chance it would feed them material they could use to make you uncomfortable, he wanted to avoid it. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, man,” he laughed mockingly. “You and her,” nodding towards where you stood with your girlfriends in the cafeteria line. “The two of you hang out with each other more than us these days.”

“I don’t know, we’re friends?” Kento shrugged, almost certain he was able to play it off as casual.

“Friends? Right, friends who constantly go on movie dates together.”

“They’re not dates,” was all he had been able to say to defend himself, feeling his cheeks grow hot like they had done when he was younger.

They had all chucked at him then. “Yeah, whatever man. Congratulations bagging the prettiest girl in school,” was the last thing that was said before you and the rest of the girls joined their table. You sat down beside Kento, like always.

Carefully, you had nudged his arm to get his attention. “You okay?” You asked quietly so only he could hear.

He gave you a weak but genuine smile. “Yes, just lost in thought is all.” You smiled back at him, making his heart skip a beat.

You don’t remember when it changed for you. If it had been a gradual thing, or if you had just woken up one day with this feeling — but something was definitely different.

The realisation had hit you mid sentence. Rambling on about some meaningless topic, like you always did, and suddenly you noticed the way he was looking at you.

He was listening so intently, not missing a single word coming from your mouth, a faint smile stamped at the corner of his lips and a tenderness in his eyes you hadn’t really noticed before. You only managed to snap out of it when he spoke your name.

“Am I losing you by not talking?” He teased before taking a sip out of his coffee.

“Shit,” you muttered, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “I just remembered this group assignment I have due tomorrow.” A lie — and an obvious one at that. But Kento didn’t get a moment to ask any follow-up questions before you had gathered your stuff and rushed to say goodbye, leaving him alone in the cafe.

For the entire walk home, you thought about Kento, now suddenly in a new light, reflecting over the entirety of your friendship.

You became aware of how he always seemed to prioritise you in the group without hesitation. You had just brushed it off, assuming he felt indebted to you for coming to his rescue when you were seven. But you realised now how ridiculous that sounded.

You thought of all the times he had come running when you had asked for him. Whether it was after a fight with one of your girlfriends, or a date that had gone horribly wrong, he dropped everything to be by your side.

You realised now why you always caught yourself answering with a frown when girls came to ask you about him. As you had gotten older, he had definitely grown into his looks, a subtle kind of handsome that snuck up on you.

When you got home, you had pulled out your phone to send a text to apologise for bailing so abruptly. But you typed and deleted the message twenty times over, anxiety you had never felt about him before overwhelming you. In the end, you ended up not sending anything at all, feeling like no words sufficed.

And the next time you met, you acted as if nothing had happened, and he just went along with it.

You tried desperately to act as if nothing had changed, beyond terrified you would scare him off or make him uncomfortable if he picked up on your new and revolutionary feelings for him. If there was one thing you were absolute certain about, it was that you would never do anything to jeopardise the friendship you had with him. There was no competition of what person in your life you cherished the most; Kento Nanami. You’d be the earth's biggest fool to gamble that away for anything.

When you were 16, you nearly caved.

In your desperate attempt of keeping things normal, you had continued your meaningless escapades — which meant going on terrible dates with even more terrible guys — turns out teenage boys are just assholes by default.

“It’s their loss,” Kento cooed in a warm tone, sitting beside you on your bed with a comforting arm around your shoulders.

In all honesty, you didn’t even care all that much about the date. You couldn’t even remember the guy’s name. No, your mind was way more interested in how his strong hand cupped your arm so perfectly.

You turned to look at him, faces closer than ever before. He happily held your gaze — you were just hoping he was able to read the messages it conveyed.

Tell me to stop seeing these guys, and I’ll stop.

Tell me you want me the way I want you.

Tell me it’s you I’m meant to be with.

“You’ll find someone worthy of you eventually.”

Your heart sunk, having built up your own expectations based on how his eyes had roamed your face as if he truly desired you. Maybe this was all in your head.

It wasn’t.

But Kento, much like you, didn’t want to lose you over anything. Confessing risked the relationship he already had with you. He would rather have you as a friend, than not have you in his life at all.

Not long after that, you both joined Jujutsu tech. Slowly but surely, you slipped away from your childhood group — him more than you. You tried your very best to stay in touch, though your new schedule made that hard.

With these new threats looming around you, neither of you could help how your friendship — or whatever you would call what was going on between you — continued to grow deeper. More serious. It went unsaid by the both of you, but there was just a mutual understanding that it was the logical development when there was the slightest possibility of it ending all too soon.

Still neither of you confessed.

You fell into routines, so accustomed to seeing him every minute of every day, your first instinct when returning from a mission was to find him.

As expected, Kento heard the three soft knocks he knew all too well at this point, before you squeezed through his door. With a deep exhale, you fell back on his bed, while he sat in his desk chair, arms crossed over his chest. “I’m exhausted.”

“Did you just get back?” His muscles were a little tense, like they always where whenever you had to go on a mission without him, his eyes searching every inch of you to see if there were any visible injuries he had to worry about.

“Little over an hour ago. Had to escape Gojo talking my ear off about his own mission.”

Kento observed how the corner of your lips tugged upwards in a tired smile, your chest vibrating with a soft chuckle.

He was always happy to see you come back unharmed, but he hated the exhaustion that rested in your joints — and it filled him with an unexplainable urge to help you somehow.

He imagined guiding you to lay on your stomach, placing his legs on each side of you and slowly soothing your muscles, rubbing caring motions along the curves of your body to fill it with the relaxation you deserved — but he couldn’t. It would definitely cross a line, too intimate for just friends.

“Glad you’re back,” he said almost in a whisper.

“Me too.” He could barely hear you, the mission slowly catching up with your energy as well, sensing on your breathing that you weren’t too far from falling asleep.

The silence that surrounded you was comfortable. You had grown so accustomed to each other’s presence, any awkwardness had ceased to exist. Nevertheless, Kento didn’t quite know what to do with himself, just looking at you sprawled out on his bed, a scene he would like to see every night.

“Kento?” Your voice was so soft.

“Yes?”

“Can I stay here tonight?”

He heard the slight hesitation in your voice before you expressed your request. Raising up his neck and face was a burning heat, his breathing coming out shallow as he didn’t quite know what to say.

Being a cautious man, he thought of every possible outcome.

It was prohibited, so he should decline. But he would hate himself forever if he simply sent you away because of the school’s outdated rules — he also knew he would regret it until his heart stopped beating.

So having you stay here was the only reasonable outcome — but then what? He supposed he would end up sleeping on the floor, like the gentleman he was. He would at least never assume he could sleep next to you, and he would not be as vulgar to ask.

He cleared his throat before speaking. “Of course. I’ll just-“

“Kento,” you said his name again, just as soft as always.

“Yeah?”

“There’s room for both of us on the bed.”

He had to swallow the massive lump that felt as if it was suffocating him. It at least stopped any further words to come out of his mouth. He slowly raised from the chair, floorboards creaking as he stepped over.

With his eyes locked on you, seemingly so calm with your eyes closed, he positioned himself beside you so he was facing you.

Goosebumps prickled up his arm when he felt your breath fan against his face, and he wondered how you managed to keep it in such an even rhythm. Didn’t this closeness send lightning through your body like it did for him, temptation threatening the act of finally crossing the line?

There was a crease between your eyebrows that seemed unintentional, like the events of the day had just planted themselves on your face and even your calm breathing couldn’t ease it. Against his better judgment, Kento’s urges steered his thumb towards your face, not reflecting over his action before he had ran his skin across the crinkle to smoothen the tension.

Shit, he thought to himself, certain you would open your mouth to tell him off — instead he saw how there had been a slight strain to your shoulders that was now released.

While he let his eyes roam your face, taking in every breathtaking aspect of your beauty, he felt a small spark of fear fill him at how right it all felt — lying next to you, so close he could feel the warmth radiate from your skin, his soft touch being able to bring rest to your body, the mere idea that he could envelop you in his arms if he wanted to.

“I’m happy you’re here with me,” your voice startled him a little, as he had assumed you had already fallen into the oblivion of sleep. “I’d never be able to navigate this world without you.”

“That’s not true.” Your eyes opened to meet his, catching his breath immediately, so stunningly deep he always felt himself fall into them. “You’ve always been the one looking out for me.”

You chuckled a little at that, endless memories of the two of you throughout childhood. “I guess in one way. But you’ve always kept me afloat.”

“You give yourself too little credit.” He had to stop himself from letting his fingers graze your cheek in the most tender caress. “You would have done just fine on your own.”

A small smile of flattery dared dance on your lips. “But I don’t want to.” It felt like a confession, unspoken feelings hidden within those words, begging for him to be able to deduce the true meaning. “Thinking of a life where you’re not at my side scares me.”

“Let’s never find out what that life is like.”

Kento would later eat those words.

Haibara’s death hit Kento the hardest. Numerous evenings were spent in the eerie silence of his cold dorm. When he cried, you held him. When he was trying to distract himself by reading, you sat and watched him, keeping him company. When he went the entire night without sparing you the slightest gaze, you knew you had overstayed your welcome, leaving him to be alone for a night.

“I don’t think I will continue to be a sorcerer.”

That was the first thing he said that hadn’t been a complete necessity, and it sent a spike of ice down your spine, not daring to understand his statement right away.

“Oh,” was the only thing you could think of to respond that did not entertain his idea.

His eyes met yours, the eye contact more intense than it had been for days, realising just how much you had missed having his kind eyes directed at you. Seemed like he felt it too, as the smallest gasp slipped out of him.

“I mean it.”

The tears instantly burned in your eyes, blinking them away before they had the chance to come running. “That's what scares me,” your voice betrayed you as the usual confidence came out cracked.

He didn’t push it any further, reading you as an open book — you knew he was telling the truth, but refused to acknowledge it. It was like if you ignored his statement, it would somehow end differently.

Luckily, after that night, Kento started to somewhat fall back to his old self. His smile started to return, it was easier to hold a conversation with him, which you obviously appreciated — however, he had planted a fear in you that had taken your body hostage.

You abandoned any sense of boundaries entirely, hanging onto his arm at all times. It was only when you were physically aware of his frame you were able to cling onto a string of peace. Feeling his body glued at your side only served as a confirmation that he was still here, and as long as you held on he couldn’t go anywhere. He couldn’t leave.

And whenever you had to pry yourself off of him to tend to your responsibilities where he wasn’t assigned, you were constantly living in a state of anxiety. Foot tapping against the floor, picking at your skin, petrified you would end up returning to see his room stripped of any signs of life — that he would have finally done the thing he said he would do, and part with the Jujutsu world.

Every time you returned, the sweetest sensation of relief washed over you, tears welling up immediately when he always stood ready to greet you. “Hey you,” he said softly, pulling you into his arms, holding you tight until he could physically feel your body let go of the stress that had tainted every muscle, every joint, for the entire time you had been separated.

But graduation day came and time was up.

You had held onto hope he would eventually change his mind, that it was only the initial grief that had weighed heavy on his conscience. But you were now standing in his bare room, everything packed into cardboard boxes. Of course it had only been a childish dream to think he would stay — there was no changing his mind.

“I really am sorry.” He was so earnest, like always, making it hard to be mad at him even though you so desperately wanted to. He genuinely had so much compassion, his hands stroking your arms in an attempt to calm the bouncing of your shoulders that followed the frantic rhythm of your sobs.

“I just don’t understand why?” You continued to sob, sentence coming out in sad intervals as you heaved for air.

“This isn’t right. It’s not right of them to expect us to be okay with watching our partners lay down their lives like this.”

You wanted so badly to scream at him, bang your fists against his chest before clasping onto his shirt so he wouldn’t even have the opportunity to leave. You knew it was unwarranted for you to feel that way, but the fact that he was following through with his stunt felt like a betrayal.

“You said we weren’t going to find out what this would be like.”

His heart shattered. Looking into your doe eyes, tainted red with sorrow as the sentence laced with innocence sent him back to every fragile evening throughout your journey together he had spent comforting you. How many tears he had dried, happily so? But this time it was his doing — him who brought you to a state of despair so grave you couldn’t breathe, and he knew this time he wouldn’t be able to comfort you.

Waiting for his next words were torture, time at a standstill watching his mouth open and close while he constructed the sentence in his mind. Though useless, the glimmer of hope refused to die out, begging for his surrender — you’re right, I’ll stay.

“I’m sorry.”

Another one of your earth shattering sobs came flying past your lips, stabbing him right in the heart that had only ever beaten for you.

Comforting you would always be second nature to him, which had his hands cup your face and pulling it closer to rest his forehead against yours. He wished, begged, for his touch to bring you comfort one last time before he left. But your body continued to shake. “It’ll be okay,” he tried to reassure you, spoken in a faint whisper. Repeating it over and over, waiting for his small affirmations to take affect — they never did.

Ask me to come with you.

Those six words played like a broken record in your mind, knowing you would pack your bags and abandon this god forsaken life at the drop of a hat if he just asked you to.

Come with me.

The request laid restless at the tip of his tongue, fighting every voice in him that was screaming at him to be selfish. But he couldn’t with you, never with you.

Unlike him, you had a purpose in this world — you were able to see the good in what you did, and he would never be able to forgive himself if he ripped you away from it no matter how much he wanted to.

There seemed like there was no limit to your tears. Shuddering against his touch, he sensed your body didn’t have much energy left to stand. He ended up leading the two of you to his bed, stripped bare to just the mattress, duvet folded at the end. Without any words spoken, you laid down in his arms, burying your face in his chest while the sobs continued to tumble out uncontrollably.

His strong arms locked around you, holding you as close to him as humanly possible, letting the illusion of him never disappearing from you live on for another night.

Eventually your sobs calmed down, only happening sporadically. The shaking stopped and he felt your breathing even out, telling him you had finally been able to let sleep consume you.

He couldn’t stop himself — placing a chaste kiss at the crown of your head, mumbling quiet and secret apologies before sleep caught him too.

According to Gojo, his departure had been quick. He hadn’t said much, just given them all a nod before grabbing his bags and disappearing.

You had decided against seeing him off. The two of you had said your goodbyes the night before in the solemn of his empty dorm. It had been wet, heartbreaking and nothing short of painful, but at least it had been private between the two of you. No one knew how your tears had soaked his shirt, or how your fists had created crinkles in the fabric while desperately holding onto him. No one knew how you had cried until the exhaustion knocked you out in his arms, so scared to wake up to face the new reality where Kento wasn’t at your immediate side like he had been since you were kids.

You couldn’t really remember what it was like to not have him there. Even before you had grown close, he had always lingered, the one thing in your life that had stayed consistent throughout it all was him.

The next weeks were absolutely torture, having to feed the people surrounding you endless lies of “I’m fine, really.” You were really just trying to prevent yourself from letting the reality set in properly. If that can of worms were to open again, you had no clue when or how you would be able to stop it. Last time you had still been able to seek some comfort against his warmth, only able to stop it because you practically passed out.

Not a single moment passed where he didn’t cross your mind, small things reminding you of him. All your little routines — for days you forgot to grab lunch because you were so used to him bringing it to you. For days you ended up with one towel too many, because you always brought an extra for him after training. Mundane things you had always taken for granted, gone in an instant.

Despite feeling a little betrayed, you couldn’t really blame him either. So you reached deep within yourself to try and stay positive. It wasn’t like he was gone gone, he had just retreated to a normal life.

You stayed in touch, sending regular updates about how you were getting by in the world of curses without him — lying of course. When he had left, he had taken some of the purpose you had in it all with him. But you didn’t want him to worry. You told him how you eventually started teaching at Jujutsu High alongside Gojo, and it felt nice to be responsible for the next generation of sorcerers.

And at first you received regular updates in return. He got himself a quaint little apartment that fitted his needs perfectly. You even got a few blurry photos of how he had tried to decorate it so it would feel more homely — you had cried when you received those.

You never called each other though. It seemed like there was a mutual understanding that it would be too unbearable to hear the voice of the other.

After a while, the updates slowly came to a halt. You kept on sending yours however, only for that little checkmark to appear and confirm he had read it. But no answer — you cried then too.

Had you said something or done something to make him cut the contact? You never managed to wrap your head around why he stopped showing you his new life.

Kento had never wanted to stop sending the messages — on the contrary. If anything, he had to stop himself from not telling you about every single minute of his day, even the most meaningless things, just as an excuse to talk to you.

But one day, thanks to a white haired little birdie, all consuming guilt had struck him. “She doesn’t say it, but she’s miserable.”

He held his breath, his fingers unintentionally clenching tighter around his phone. “She is?” His voice came out faint. He heard Gojo let out a deep sigh at the other end of the line.

“She tries. Very hard. I stopped asking a long time ago because she kept lying anyways.”

“Oh.” Kento had been a fool, believing your words when he had read them on his screen. When he hadn’t been able to hear the tone behind the statements, he had been able to convince himself they were genuine. But of course you were lying — he was, after all.

“But I think she really enjoys teaching,” Gojo said after a moment of sad silence, trying to fill the conversation with some optimism. “And the kids love her.”

“Yes, I can imagine as much,” a small smile appearing on his lips, picturing the scene of you with the young students.

“Look, I have to run, she’s waving me over. Should I-“

“No!” Kento rushed to cut him off. “No, don’t say anything. Please.”

He made up his mind then and there — he was not going to cause you any more pain. So he had to let you go entirely to allow you to move on. The way he was selfishly clinging onto the crumps you gave him seemed to do you no good, if the image Gojo painted was accurate.

So he stopped. Even though his fingers urged to reach out, he fought against it, for you.

You, however, could not hinder how your finger pressed the send button every now and then. The updates definitely became less frequent when he went radio silent, but you did not have the strength to stop. If you stopped… there was a fear he would never come back.

Kento was supposed to share his life with you.

He had believed so ever since he was a little kid, ogling you from afar before he even knew your name. The way you made his heart jump and pulse quicken had to be his body’s way of telling him you were meant to be with him, quickly growing addicted, dependent, on the reactions you created in him without trying.

But he had made the drastic choice of abandoning that feeling, convinced the alternative did you harm — and the mere concept of being the reason you even felt the faintest glimmer of discomfort was something he could not live with.

He welcomed the misery, a small price to pay for the belief that you were doing better now. He also thought he had good reason to believe that was the case.

The updates you sent him were few and far between these days, but it did paint a picture. You were rarely in the photos, but there was an energy present in the moments eternalised that seemed pleasant and positive. He imagined you had found your role, your place in life where you would get to fulfil your potential. And whether or not he was there was irrelevant.

He convinced himself his own insecurities were a reality to make it easier to bear.

Ever since childhood, you had been the headstrong one. The independent one. The brave one. It always lingered in the back of his mind whenever he just observed you in different scenarios — that it really didn’t matter if he was there or not, forever just an accessory to your life. He even feared he was holding you back somehow.

So it was only reasonable to think time away from him would have provided you with the playing field to develop into the best version of yourself… right?

Years went by and Kento’s pain didn’t ease. He missed you — every single day. And he kept living in that constant state of torture for you, until the fantasy shattered.

It was just another day, nothing out of the ordinary. Kento was going about his drowsy routines of stopping by the same bakery he did every morning before work. However today, he was nearly tackled by two kids, a boy and a girl about the age of six, once he entered the building.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” a grown woman rushed over to apologise as she brought the children back to their little table.

“It’s no problem,” he mumbled monotonously, eyes following them as they scattered back to their seats, where another woman sat.

A wave of nostalgia crashed over him, feeling like he had the privilege of looking back in time. The little boy resembled a young Kento Nanami, his blonde locks neatly styled, chubby, red cheeks and a baby-blue button up shirt — a rather mature attire for a six year old.

And the boy had his eyes glued on his friend, a girl the same age, very evidently the more outgoing out of the two. She was rambling enthusiastically, arms waving all over the place as he told her story down to the smallest detail, exhibiting the same spark you always had.

The boy kept a glare of pure awe as he followed her every word, seen so clearly in his eyes how much he admired her. And Kento knew how this story would continue — that night the boy would lay in his bed, the biggest smile on his face, unable to fall asleep as the day spent with his friend would play on repeat in his mind — much like Kento had spent countless nights when he was young.

It wasn’t until the girl behind the counter called for him he was able to pull his attention away from the all too familiar scene.

So polite, a sweet smile on her face as she served him the same thing he ordered every day. And then she asked how he was sleeping. It fascinated him, how this girl didn’t owe him anything, and had her own worries — like the little curse sat on her shoulder — and still showed concern for him.

He had noticed the curse before, but purposely never done anything about it. It wasn’t a proper threat, and it would be more of a hustle for him to deal with the reactions of ridding her of it than let it be. But now, having the innocent scene a few feet from him remind him of you, he quickly began to consider doing the girl a favour.

You would have exorcised it — without hesitation.

Not just that, you would probably give him crap for not exorcising it immediately. It wouldn't cost him anything to do it, so why wouldn’t he?

“Could you take a step forward, please?” Kento asked politely, the girl a little confused but doing as he said. He had your voice in the back of his mind while he easily exorcised the curse with one swift motion, the strain in her shoulder easing immediately.

“Huh? It’s lighter!” She exclaimed, rolling her arm around at the newfound relief.

“If anything still feels off, please go to the hospital,” he said with a small nod. He grabbed his food and headed for the exit, sparing one last glance at the table where the two kids sat, still deep in the conversation.

His lungs let out a deep, involuntary breath when the realisation dawned on him — he could no longer stay away, caving to his desires.

Maybe enough time had passed for it not to be considered selfish? If you had in fact found your place where you were content and comfortable, and meeting him again would be causal for you?

The questions kept circulating his mind as he pulled out his phone to dial the one person who would be able to set it all up at the blink of an eye.

His whole world stopped when he saw you, and he wondered how he had ever thought it a good idea to leave you — how could he possibly have survived all that time without you?

It was almost painful how his heart was clawing at the inside of his chest, desperate to be with you. It wasn’t until he felt the overwhelming pounding he realised his heart had not beat properly for the years he had spent away — meant to beat in unison with yours. His skin was turning cold as ice and the only way for it to regain its warmth was your touch, your soft embrace.

Kento hadn’t known what to expect when he saw you again, but he had certainly thought he would have more rational and coherent thoughts. Right now, it was all scrambling in his head and the only thing that appeared clearly in his mind was you, framed in the halo of your aura, taking his breath as way just as easily as when he was six.

With his body going numb, he observed you interact with Gojo and two kids he assumed were your students. You looked calm, a small smile decorating the plump line of your lips — it wasn’t as radiant as it used to be. In fact, your entire energy just seemed a little off. Maybe you had just gotten home from a mission, or it has been a hectic day in general.

Truth was not so mundane. You wished it was as simple as a long and tiring day. That would mean you could just jump in bed and sleep it off, ready to face a new day tomorrow.

But the day Kento left the jujutsu society behind, he unintentionally stole your spark with him.

You could never hate him for it though, he didn’t know. He only did what he felt like he needed to do, and you would be a terrible friend to stand in the way of that. But you had no control over how your mind decided to react.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder was something you had always heard growing up, and you had never really understood it — until faced with the situation yourself.

Not a day went by where you didn’t think of Kento. You thought of how his grin always grew slowly when watching you, eventually revealing the shy smile lines across his cheeks. The ghost of his touch, which was always dancing the line of appropriate or not, never leaving your mind. Sometimes you still felt the imprint of his arms around you.

“Don’t you guys listen to him for a second,” you chuckled, the tiniest hint of frustration in your voice. “Gojo doesn’t qualify as a responsible adult.”

His jaw fell to the ground in fake offence, eyebrows narrowing at the innocent laughs spilling from the students. “You were never this mean when we were younger,” he whined, folding his arms across his chest, looking like a stubborn child.

“That’s what you think,” you teased, nudging an elbow into his side. “You should have heard the things we said about you behind closed doors.”

His big hand came piercing through the air, pressing it against your face, gently shoving you away from the conversation. A lighthearted, but genuine, little laugh escaped you. “We don’t want to hear what you and your little boyfriend did in private,” Gojo rolled his eyes, pretending to gag at the made up memories.

Annoying as he was, Gojo had a way to actually make you forget the pain of it all for a few seconds. You would never tell him, obviously, that he managed to put the storm inside your head on hold for a second — he would rub it in your face every chance he got.

“Wait, senpai had a boyfriend when she attended here?” One of the students interjected and suddenly the mood of the conversation shifted. Gojo’s hand fell from your face before he shot you an apologetic smile.

For the most part, it was never a problem whenever Kento was brought up in the company of Gojo and Shoko. Everything was out in the open between the three of you, shared history taking away some of the pain. But whenever it slipped outside your little trio, it quickly became a sore topic.

Mouth opening and closing, trying to find the words to answer without having to give an explanation. Luckily, a painfully familiar voice called your name behind you, instantly sending a shiver down your spine.

All of you turned towards the voice, and you couldn’t help but let out an audible gasp at the beautiful image of your other half standing in front of you after all these years.

Your heart’s instinct steered your body, quickly stepping away from the group and latching your arms around Kento’s neck, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He didn’t hesitate to close his strong arms around your frame, fitting right into the slots they used to fill. His familiar scent filled your senses, memories flooding back in an instant.

“Huh, speak of the devil,” Gojo mumbled.

“Him? That was her boyfriend?”

Gojo quickly snapped out of it. “Let’s give them some privacy, shall we,” and started rushing away the nosy teens.

Kento’s grip loosened and you pulled away, but neither of you dared let your hands leave each other. Your own hands ended up cupping his face, forcing him to keep his eyes on you until it hit you he was actually with you again — he let his rest on your waist, feeling the restlessness in him by how strongly his palms were pressing against you.

He was here. He was actually here.

There was a deafening silence filling the space of your office. You could feel it in the tension that both of you wanted to say something, but there was an unspoken pressure of saying the right thing.

So you let your eyes roam him, taking in the differences in his appearance.

He was gorgeous, same subtle handsomeness as he had always possessed, but a new confidence displaying it. Everything about him was more defined, sharp features drawing attention to his face, his muscles filling his shirt in a way they never did before.

“So, you and Gojo seem to work well together,” he swallowed, causing embarrassment to flush your face when he pulled you from your blatant admiring.

“We’ve found a rhythm that works for us, I suppose,” you shrugged.

He shifted awkwardly in his seat, arms flexing as he crossed them in front of him. “That’s good. I’m glad.” His tone of his short statements seemed to imply otherwise.

“He’s surprisingly good at his job,” you laughed, “the kids like him.”

“Who would have thought,” there was a pull of his lips, like he tried to smile but it didn’t succeed entirely.

“Not me, that’s for sure. I don’t know, he just meets them were their at.” You really wanted to stop rambling about Gojo. It was so clearly just a desperate way for you to replace the quiet that plagued you without touching the elephant in the room. “Don’t get me wrong, they find him insufferable, but I think they secretly really like him. Much like the rest of us.”

“Sounds about right.”

You squinted at him, slowly growing somewhat antsy. “You’re not jealous of Gojo, are you?”

Of course you still saw right through him. He, who usually managed to hide his true feelings, would never be able to conceal them from you. And he was jealous, petrified that he had made the biggest mistake of his life and Gojo had ended up taking the place that was supposed to be for him only.

“Is there something to be jealous of?”

“You tell me.”

The tension was thick, nearly suffocating, years of yearning and pining fuelling the energy. The reunion only served as a dangerous spark that threatened to set the fuse ablaze at any second.

Why couldn’t he take the first step? He was the one who had showed up all of a sudden, and he still hadn’t given you any explanation. He owed you that much, right? But he kept letting his restlessness control him, one leg bouncing quietly against the floor, hearing how the cogs in his mind were turning.

“Why are you here?”

Your words were soft, but Kento knew you well enough to know the true feelings that lingered in the question.

“I’m coming back.”

“You’re coming back?” You weren’t able to withhold the bite that was slowly making its way into your tone.

“Only if you’re comfortable with it.”

“Don’t do that,” your voice threatened to crack. “I don’t want that responsibility.”

He sighed deeply, unfolding his arms to rest his elbows on his spread knees. “That wasn’t my intention. I’m sorry.”

Always so polite. Always acknowledging his faults before they had the opportunity to grow. Always so damn righteous.

“What I meant to say is it looks like you’ve really managed to establish yourself here, and I wouldn’t want to come in and cause any discomfort by intruding what is essentially your space.”

The sound that escaped you next was a mixture between a flat laugh and a scoff, not entirely appreciating the way he was behaving. “Have we been apart so long you can’t talk to me like I’m your best friend?”

That had him look up at you, meeting your eyes instantly. You were sad, visible on your entire demeanour — maybe not to the average person looking, but he saw, still able to read you like an open book.

“Hope not,” he tried to smile, lips formed into a tight line that exposed how nervous he really was. His attention shifted to look at his fists folded together, words resting on his tongue, he just wanted to be sure it came out right. “I’ve missed you.” Silence. “There hasn’t been a day where you haven’t crossed my mind.”

“Sounds familiar.” There was no hiding the flush crawling up his neck and colouring the tips of his ears red at the sound of your confession.

“It was the thought of you that finally convinced me.”

“Why now?”

“Because enough time should have passed for you to thrive without me.”

“If that’s the case, you’ll have to keep waiting.”

You had him gagged, no clue how to respond. For some reason, he had refused to believe you were still hung up on him the way he was. There weren’t any reason for you to hold onto the idea of him — yet you had, for dear life.

Abruptly you stood up from your chair, hands running through your hair in frustration, trying to make sense of his sudden visit.

You stopped in your pacing, back faced him and hands on your hips — then he saw your shoulders begin to shake, followed by stifled sobs. These were the situations he always used to know what to do, moving on autopilot to bring you the comfort you needed.

Did his hands remember how to soothe you? Did his voice still know how to form the right words to say? Did his presence still know how to envelope you until you felt happy again? There was only one way to find out.

Quickly stepping over to you, his hands hovered over your shoulders for a second in fear. He swallowed his selfishness and let them land to settle the bouncing, leaning his head forward to rest it against the back of yours, the smell of your shampoo surrounding him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered and it only seemed like his apology opened the valve, no longer able to choke your sobs. Your hands left your hips to cover your face, muffling the sadness tumbling out in one stream.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he continued to mutter, head moving to press it to the side of your face. One hand traveled across your collarbone, the other around your waist to pull you as close to him as possible, determined to hold you there until he was absolutely certain you were okay.

He would stand there the whole night if he needed to.

Slowly but surely, your sobs came to a stop, your trembling eventually easing against his body. But he didn’t loosen his grip, not until he felt you shift in his arms to face him.

Cry painted cheeks, delicate red rim around your eyes, glossy irises that stared right into the deepest parts of him that only you had access to.

Everything started to fall back into place, his big hand cupping your cheek as he stroked your hair out of your face. He let his eyes dart delicately across your face, taking in every single detail.

Then he let his longing get the best of him, thumb graciously tracing your bottom lip turned swollen from when you tried to swallow your sobs.

There was slight hesitation while he leaned forward, never having experienced time moving as slow as you waited for his lips to connect with yours. First, he let his nose brush against yours, testing the waters.

Please.

You felt his breath.

Don’t make me wait any longer.

Sparks.

Soft lips pressed against yours, moving tenderly in unison that sent intense sparks through your body from head to toe. The moment easily surpassed any of the fantasies you’d had of kissing him.

Needy fingers traveled up his broad chest before hooking your arms around his neck, pulling him closer — it still didn’t feel close enough.

Kento poured everything he had always wanted to say into the kiss — and he knew you understood. If he had learned anything from everything you had been through together, it was he could always trust you were able to understand him completely, even without anything being said.

When you pulled away you found yourself breathless. Meeting his eyes again, unexpected shyness you weren’t used to experience with Kento had you hide your face in his chest.

The roles had reversed, his warm chuckle serving as a comforting blanket. Oh, how you had missed that melody.

“Took you long enough,” you mumbled, hoping the teasing would have your normal confidence return.

His finger found your chin to tilt your head up, capturing your gaze. “Yeah, I should have done it ages ago.”

The previous sadness still lingered, and it was evident you still had a lot to talk about. But right now it was nice to just wallow in his presence again. It was way overdue, feeling like it should have been like this since forever.

“I really am sorry.”

“I think I can find it in myself to forgive you.” Your innocent jab was received with a dashing smile, tingles spreading throughout your limbs at the sight.

“Hope so, sweetheart,” he breathed quietly before he leaned in again.

They sat staring at each other, Kento with a raised eyebrow while a grumpy Gojo was positioned on the couch opposite him, legs and arms crossed in annoyance.

“You used to be nice.”

Kento scoffed at his colleague’s childish behaviour. “I still am, you’re just upset you’re not getting it your way.”

“But why?” Gojo cried dramatically.

“Why? What do you mean why? Because it’s not your wedding.”

“Were you always this boring?”

“Most definitely.”

“Will you guys please shut up?” You interrupted, unable to ignore them anymore. You had desperately tried to block them out as you were doing some paperwork you should have done ages ago.

“He started it!” Gojo pointed at Kento, which only had him roll his eyes.

“You know what,” you sighed as you gathered your stuff and raised from behind the desk. “It’s with a heavy heart I leave you, but I need to get this done by the end of the day.” You stopped behind Kento, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry, honey,” he said genuinely as he gazed up at you lovingly.

“I am not asking for much-“ Gojo continued to argue before you interrupted him.

“Will you pay for it?”

“Is that all it’ll take?” He beamed, and you nodded. “Of course! Done! How much do you need?”

“You’re too lenient when it comes to him,” Kento sighed.

“It’s not the craziest thing he could request. He’ll get his endless supply of sweets, and you won’t have to listen to his obnoxious nagging anymore.”

“I’m sitting right here.” Both you and Kento ignored him.

“I really have to get this work done though,” you sighed, hand squeezing his shoulder.

“See you at home?” His loving smile had you lean down to press your lips tenderly against his.

“See you at home.”

“I’ll have dinner ready.”

“God, I love you.”

Then he flashed you that smile — the smile which was reserved solely as a response whenever you said those three words he used to dream of hearing from you.

It was funny really, how after everything things would turn out exactly how he as always wanted them to. Despite the hopelessness he had felt and all the pain you had endured — both together and apart — would eventually lead up to the happy ending he had dreamed of since the young age of five.

He knew he would do it all over again, in every universe, if it ensured this outcome.

“I love you too.”

tags @sad-darksoul @toadtoru

an anon, i am so sorry if this ended up longer than you wanted it. idk what happened, bc it just kept on snowballing <3 however, i am very touched you wanted me to do this request. warms my heart. hope it turned out okay mwah also, if you've read my satoru childhood friends to lovers fic and see any similarities, no you don't comments and reblogs is much appreciated

#— ଓ my creative corner #dividers by enchanthings #jjk #jjk oneshot #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen oneshot #jujutsu kaisen x reader #kento nanami #kento nanami oneshot #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento #nanami #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami oneshot #jjk kento nanami #jujutsu nanami #kento x reader

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killerpancakeburger · 2 months

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Jealousy headcanons

🧼 & 💀

I also have scenarios partially based on those hcs incoming ☆

Tags: Price'sAssistant!Reader, fluff, protectiveness, possessiveness (but wholesome).

SOAP:

Was actually working on asking you out. Needs it to be perfect. Getting maniac about it.

Outraged when another guy makes a move first. Especially one that mediocre. Although if he was honest, he doesn't think a single dude on base is worthy of you. Yes even himself

So petty. Will hold a grudge forever. You'll have all but forgotten about it, but not him. Oh no. He mentally branded his rival for life. Dude is in his sights. He won't do anything that would put the other's life at risk, but make his life suck? Easy peasy. Will back down when the other back down. ...For now.

Will switch your jacket with his. Yes it's childish, so what? Only when Gaz mentions that if you two are dating in secret, you’re not being very discreet, and once you’re done choking on your drink, you learn that there's MACTAVISH written in big bold letters on your back. (Didnt notice cos you have the same type of jacket as em in the same size since they didnt have one in your own)

Very vocal and agitated about his distaste and resentment. Rants with hand gestures, forever if you don't stop him. Accent and slang getting more and more scottish as he goes.

“Ain't you all sunshines and rainbows today!” you tease him, a bit overwhelmed by his fervor, and by how personally he's taking this. You assume it's a TF141 thing - they've always been protective of you since you're the civilian of the team and the least experimented, even acting as buffer between you and other soldiers. You’re their assistant, their teammate, and no one else's.

Unbeknown to you, your wannabe suitor had boasted about the move he made on you to other soldiers. To make himself look good, and to get some kind of reassurance. The minute Soap heard mention of your name, he couldn’t help but join the group to listen in.

Galvanized by the feedbacks of his mates, the guy gets bolder in his remarks. Johnny will never report to you what he heard - it would only hurt you. When he calls out to the man, the private still doesn't realize his mistake. He replies to the sergeant with enthusiasm, thinking he's here to join the locker talk.

To think that guy dared to think Soap was on his side - would sympathize -, simply because of some implicit bro code. He was boiling until now, but that was what made him snap.

Before he could even think about it, he already had knocked the private on his ass with one punch. The altercation was broken up before he could do more.

He's itching for a fight, but he'll settle for a punching bag. Unless the guy intimidated you, or made you uncomfortable in any way. Then he's already leaving the room after you’re done telling him about it, and if you stop him, he tries to convince you it's for the best. Letting him deal his own brand of justice. It's kind of his specialty, after all.

Either you give in, and you two talk again afterwards, or you resist, despite his arguments turning into supplications. In both cases you end up asking the one burning question: "Why does this bother you so much?"

He suddenly looks like a child caught red-handed with his hand in the cookie jar. Avoiding your gaze. Grumbling to himself. You have to insist for him to make his speech audible again. Replies with another question. "Why wouldn’t it?"

You sigh, cross your arms. "You know what I mean. I never saw you so fired up over something that wasn’t work-related." You eventually manage to extract a confession from him.

"He... he's not your type." More grumbling. You raise your eyebrows in disbelief, before a smirk stretches your lips. "Oh? And what is my type, Sergeant?"

He looks almost pained for a second, and you feel guilty, even though you don't know what for. Then his expression changes, to one that reminds you of a condemned man in front of the gallows - a blend of resignation and resolve. He wraps his arms around you and hides his face in the crook of your neck. "Don't tease me, Bonnie." Before you can comfort him, moved but still confused, he adds: "Or I won't be able to hold back anymore."

You try to remove from his spot, but his embrace prevents you from backing down and his head doesn't budge. "Johnny... look at me. Tell me what's wrong. Let me help. Please?"

He finally meets your gaze, forehead almost touching yours. He looks more vulnerable than you've ever seen. "Go out with me?" Before you can answer, he adds: "I'll be so, so good to ye, swear it. Hell, ye've got me wrapped 'round yer finger already."

GHOST:

In denial about his feelings for you. Doesn't stop him from feeling super possessive though.

Two words: starring problem. Whether it's menacingly at the other guy, or at you, to make his disapproval known, just in case the absurd idea to accept his advances happened to cross your mind.

You're way too good for that bloke who doesn't even have the balls to face you himself (he left a note on your desk). Who the bloody hell does he think he is?

If the guy happened to scare you or coerce you in any way, he's done for. Gone. You'll never know what Ghost did, but you never saw the dude again. And when you ask around, no one seems to understand who you’re refering to...

If he's not starring at you from afar, he's with you, magically appearing at random times of the day.

When you ask him for explainations about his behaviour, he grumbles that he knows about the private's confession, and how that bloody wanker is obviously beneath you, and that you could find so much better.

You never planned to accept the other guy's advances anyway, but you’re terribly intrigued by Ghost's unusual behavior. He brags about his own skill here and there, but doesn't waste time ranting about others' lack thereof.

"I don't know about 'much better'", you argue, only half-serious. The men who've approached you can be counted on the fingers of one hand, and none of them was... adequate. But you don't really want to talk about it with your tall and dark lieutenant, a man that manages to intimate you as much as he charms you.

The sentence barely left your lips that the creaking of his chair makes you look up, and you can read something akin to "you can’t be serious" in his eyes before he stops in front of your desk. "Simon?" you call out, confused, but instead of answering, he cradles your face with one hand, the other lifting his mask halfway.

"Bite me if you don't want this" is the only warning you get before his mouth meets yours. You keep your teeth to yourself. He overwhelms you completely with just one kiss. When he releases you, you need a moment to pull yourself together.

"How's that for much better?"

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becgenius · 2 months

Text

BIKER!SYLUS WHO...

!! street racing au, reader not mc, female reader, established relationship, petnames, reader has hair, smut, semi-public sex not rlly, size kink, m!receiving oral, dacryphilia, helmet stays on during sex, hair pulling kinda, cum swallowing, masturbation, lightly proofread, lowercase intended

wc. 1.5k

nsfw under the cut. minors dni.

biker!sylus who invites you to every one of his street races.

he says it's because you're good luck. it's really because the one thing he loves more than winning these races is seeing you proudly run up to congratulate him after doing so.

you both know he doesn't need 'good luck' to win; winning has always been a guarantee for him.

biker!sylus who gets you your own set of bike gear when you start dating.

your own pair of gloves, your own jackets, boots, helmets, body armor, balaclavas - you name it.

not to mention that he buys you multiple of each. a set in your favorite color, one in the color he loves seeing you wear, and one that matches his own gear.

biker!sylus who, nonetheless, thinks you look the best when wearing his gear.

biker!sylus who therefore loves to give you his leather jacket to watch his races. he wants everyone to know that you're his; that you’re there for him, and him only.

the cold air of the night nips at your cheeks as you stand watching the race. you're pretty sure there are five racers in total on the track, but everyone's focused on the two bikes practically leading the race.

you know that sylus is one of them. however you aren't sure if he's on the first or second bike. definitely the first, who were you kidding.

the fluorescence of the colorful traffic lights and blaring headlights contrasts sharply with the night's darkness and overwhelms your vision, and there’s the bass-boosted music from a nearby sports car clashing with the conversations of strangers and screech of tires against asphalt.

it seems that tonight's commentator - some guy with a megaphone - is also having a difficult time distinguishing the two leading racers. the sound is all distorted and you can only catch phrases at a time. you hear him refer to the racers as bike a and bike b. not helpful at all.

mentally scolding your past self for underdressing, you hug sylus's gifted jacket closer to your body and press your legs together as you stand among the crowd: your best attempt at preserving body heat. you're beginning to get annoyed with the loud audience around you and the way the wind is blowing strands of your hair into your glossed lips.

eventually, thankfully, one of the bikes ahead wins. you still haven't identified the driver; nevertheless, you approach the finish line… and so does what seems like every other person around you.

he sees you before you see him. you're about to call him but he catches your attention by a simple flash of his bike's headlights.

you see him leaning against his bike, stuffing a wad of cash into his jacket's inside pocket.

"there you are, dear. did you enjoy the race?" he removes his helmet, in turn revealing the sweaty, sticky mess of hair underneath, and holds his free hand out to you.

"sy! i almost lost you!" despite your outcry, you still manage to take his hand and allow him to help you onto the back of his bike.

"don't i always tell you to look for me wherever the winner is?" humble as always. but you can't blame him.

he slips the helmet he had just worn over your head and adjusts the chin strap. from your neck up, you're enveloped in the heat that was previously trapped inside the headgear. finally, he flips the visor down, and your vision tints black as your breath fogs up a spot on the glass.

biker!sylus who thinks it’s the cutest thing, seeing you perched atop his huge bike, wearing not only his helmet but also his jacket, both much too large on you.

biker!sylus who is more than happy to humor you when you tell him that you have a reward for him after winning a particularly close race.

biker!sylus who, after parking and turning his bike off in his private garage, stays put, because you told him to. he’s suspicious, curious, but never doubtful.

with the amount of vehicles parked within, it may as well be considered parking lot. fortunately, all you see are sylus’s insane collection of cars and bikes. no people in sight.

he's, again, leaned up against his bike, holding you upright as you press your chest against his and kiss him.

the kissing is deep and passionate and he loves it because he loves the feeling of your lips on his. but the kiss is also too short.

he is confused when you abruptly pull away from him wearing a sly grin. he's even more confused when you take the helmet from his bike seat and place it over his head, concealing his face.

"what's all this now, hm sweetie?" he asks.

biker!sylus whose eyes widen in both shock and understanding when you slowly lower yourself before him; not that you can see it though, from your tinted reflection in his helmet.

" 'm giving you your reward, of course."

biker!sylus who helps you undo his belt and shove his pants down enough to where you can comfortably hold his exposed erection in your hands.

he's dense and girthy, and it takes two of your hands to fully grasp him.

you look up, innocently smiling, to his concealed face as you kneel below him, soft cheek pressed against his hard dick before you slide his tip into your now open mouth.

he groans from above. loud. the helmet does nothing to muffle his noises, you learn.

"i love seeing this side of you, baby…" you feel his fingers run across the sides of your head, pulling hair out of your face and into a makeshift ponytail.

there's something that turns him on so much about seeing your seemingly innocent eyes gaze up at him while doing such a crude act as sucking his dick. he becomes impossibly harder inside your mouth.

you give him an agreeing hm in response, lips still surrounding his cock, and the vibrations send shivers down his spine.

tears run down your sore cheeks when you begin to pick up your pace. your jaw hurts from forcing it open so long and hollowing your cheeks for this amount of time has made them sensitive.

your head bobs itself efficiently up and down his length. you’re mindful of your teeth, and you use your tongue to swirl around his girth.

the only noises heard in sylus' garage were his moans, your gagging, as well as the squelching and slurping of you sucking him dry.

you don't notice that he releases your hair to wipe your fallen tears, and you gladly accept the attention. "such a good girl. you look so pretty sucking my cock like this."

his sweet, albeit vulgar, words were getting to you, and you feel yourself becoming more and more aroused.

so while your dominant hand is wrapped around sylus' dick, jerking off the length around his base that your mouth couldn't reach, your free hand slips down under your waistband and between your thighs to relieve your aching clit.

you continue sucking him off at that same pace, until he suddenly gets impatient. his hands find their way back to your head and guides it back and forth at a much faster pace.

at this point, you relax, fully allowing sylus to take control. your only focus is to keep your lips wrapped around his cock and to not choke; that, and your hand in your pants.

"fuck, princess, i'm gonna cum." he spits out in between pants. he flips his visor up to breathe in the fresh air and you notice that the screen's been completely fogged. "i want you to come too. think you do that for me?"

his head falls back after he sees your nod and a loud moan escapes from the back of his throat. your fingers move faster and press harder on your clit as you let sylus direct your head at whichever speed he pleases.

his cock twitches in your mouth, a telltale sign, before his hand on the back of your head stops moving and your mouth is suddenly filled with sylus's cum instead of his dick, which he pulls out with a pop.

you reach your own climax in seconds, eyes rolling and mouth hanging open as your fingers speed up and your cunt spasms around nothing.

sylus's cum is close to spilling out from the corners of your mouth as you fully take in your orgasm, but he stops it from doing so when he presses a gentle finger under your chin, sealing your lips and commanding an authoritative "swallow" that makes you do so without thinking twice.

he fully removes the helmet to catch his breath, chest dramatically heaving. you finally make eye contact with his dilated pupils.

he smirks at your dazed state, finding the whole situation amusing.

"who knew you had it in you?" he chuckles, shaking his head, "you're a naughtier girl than you look."

biker!sylus who wins street races, but only considers himself a winner as long as he has you to show him that he is!!!!!!

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et6rnalsun · 2 months

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DON’T, matt sturniolo

𝜗𝜚 pairing: matt sturn x fem! reader

warnings: unprotected & kinda rough sex (wrap it up rn), p in v, mentions of slighty toxic behavior in relationship, cheating (?)

A/N: dedicated to all the anons in my inbox asking for more matt fics 🎀 (requests are open. masterlist) ++ lmk if u guys want to be added to my inexistent taglist.

update: this has been in my drafts for 3 months

one moment you were resting your head on your boyfriend's chest, his fingers gently playing with your hair as you simply cuddled, and the next you were screaming the worst things at each other as you rushed to get your things scattered across the floor of his room.

he didn't have to say much more before sobs escaped your lips, tears falling down your eyes and ruining your mascara which only made your already messed up appearance worse. it was always like this between the two of you, no matter how good you had it since it didn't take much to ruin everything. to make chris put on his mask of carelessness and say the meanest things to you without even thinking about your feelings.

you didn't even know how to get home. you had to sleep there that night, and obviously you didn't want to stay in that house for a second longer. this made you cry more, your figure shaking with constant sobs as you thought of a quick solution.

eventually, the door to matt's room entered your field of vision, and a glimmer of hope lit up in your head.

you knocked gently on his door with your knuckles, and a murmur of agreement came almost immediately. when you opened the door, wiping the tears and the already dried mascara from your cheeks, matt was sitting on the bed as he looked at you with an expression mixed with confusion and sleep. his hair was disheveled, the sheets all wrinkled from tossing and turning around, and he wasn't wearing a shirt at all.

the sight made your heart skip a beat, and it was probably just the guilt eating you up entirely for waking him up in the middle of the night. "what happened?" his eyes filled with concern after seeing your conditions, and he quickly stood up as he approached you — his figure covering yours whole. one of his hands rested on your cheek, and somehow the warmth of his touch made you want to keep crying. inevitably you leaned into that caress, looking up into his eyes. "chris" the answer was enough to make him sigh, as if he already understood everything.

“i just need to put on a shirt, then i'll drive you home” he replied, his thumb leaving one last small touch on your face before turning and reaching for the piece of clothing. you leaned against the wall, watching him put it on. your eyes ran over his figure briefly, his v line highlighted as his arms came up. it was almost impossible for you to look away from the sight, and you instinctively bit your lower lip while your thighs were a bit more closed together. just a little.

you didn't know where all those feelings were coming from, considering that a few minutes before you were in total despair. but then, the sound of matt's car keys woke you from your daydream, and you cleared your throat as you placed a hand on the handle to exit.

"don't you want to change before going out?" he asked, patting your shoulder as he looked at the exposed skin of your body with his intense eyes. looking down, you noticed that you had completely forgotten how you were still wearing your pajamas; some shorts and a satin crop top. you shook your head, adjusting your messy hair as you both walked down the stairs. "i don't want to. nobody will see me anyway"

he let out a small, amused huff, pinching your hip playfully as you bent down to put on your shoes. "you'll catch a cold"

“can you just shut up and drive me home?” you feigned annoyance, but a small hint of a smile appeared on your lips as you returned the pinch with a small push. he chuckled, before taking off his jacket to place it on your shoulders. “come on, let’s go” he slid it off like it was a completely normal and natural gesture, opening the front door as he waited for you.

his scent completely invaded your nostrils, making you feel almost dizzy as you followed him without saying a word. his jacket was slightly big on you, bringing you the warmth you really needed but were too stubborn to admit.

the car ride was uneventful. your temple rested against the window as you watched the streets ‘move’ in front of you, completely quiet and empty. you could feel his gaze drifting over to you at times, staying there for a few seconds before returning his focus to driving.

“you didn't tell me what happened, anyway” his voice interrupted the comforting silence that had created between the two of you as soon as you stopped at a red light, making you turn your head slightly to look at him back. "the same things, matt. we can never find peace with constant fighting and he always seems to find ways to hurt me" you shrugged, your voice low and slightly scratchy from earlier crying. "he doesn't even think before he speaks, you know that better than me. but sometimes i really wish he would"

he took a few seconds before answering, as if he was thinking about it. "i always thought you deserved better. chris isn't ready for a serious relationship" his hand that was on the gear shift suddenly rested on your thigh, his ring-horned fingers stroking the exposed skin. he smirked a little before continuing, watching you shiver at his touch. "he's not mature enough"

you knew matt's words weren't meant to be mean to chris or anything like that, but there was an edge to his tone that confused you slightly. almost like he was hoping you would break up with his brother. "i can't blame him, maybe i’m the one pressuring him too much"

he scoffed at your words as the light turned green again, allowing you two to continue down the street towards your house. "i would really like you to understand that you are probably the best girlfriend anyone could ask for. i'm not the one experiencing it, but looking from the outside, i can tell"

you remained silent at those words, simply looking at him as he was focused on the road. you were beyond confused at that point, and you couldn't figure out what was right or wrong anymore. “if you say so” you decided to say, a small sigh escaping your lips.

soon, he had drove you home safely. you made him stop the car in the parking lot, knowing that you would remain in his company a little longer. "thank you so much, matt, really. you're a friend" your voice reached his ears softly, making him smile as he nodded. "you don't need to thank me" he reminded, placing a hand on your shoulder. “but i want to. it must have been tiring dealing with my sensitive ass all night” you giggled, making him roll his eyes affectionately. "a little. but the fact that you’re pretty has alleviated the suffering"

and then it all happened quickly. his slightly chapped lips had found your glossy ones in a desperate, resentful kiss, his fingers sliding into your hair and the back of your head to pull you closer. you found yourself responding to the kiss immediately, knowing that you weren't expecting anything else. his tongue made its way into your mouth quickly, his other hand trailing down the curve of your hip.

matt was desperate to have his hands on you and it showed in how he couldn't help but touch you everywhere, his touches were frantic as he brought you closer to him and tasted your mouth, what he could only watch for months, practically devouring it.

“get in the back” he practically pleaded, his breathing labored as he broke away from the kiss with a loud 'pop', while you moved quickly to settle into his backseat. his body was quick to tower over yours, his necklace dangling in your face as he pulled your shorts down quickly, before spreading your legs with his hands. he took in the sight of your delicate panties, so thin that it made his head spin. “fuck, you’re perfect” all while your hands already made its way under his shirt, before removing it completely.

he didn't waste any more time, and quickly unbuttoned his pants, groaning at the feeling of your legs already wrapped around his slutty waist.

panties torn with little importance, tip hastily aligned with your entrance before pounding into you without any preparation, making you moan his name out loud in pain mixed with immediate pleasure. "sorry, baby" he murmured, noticing your slight discomfort. he couldn't stop though, and at the feeling of your warm walls wrapped around him he lost his mind and started with a fast pace right away, barely giving you a chance to adjust.

your nails were already digging into his back, scratching, leaving obvious marks that showed how much you were enjoying it — you loved that rough side of him, you really did, and you didn't care if you most likely wouldn't be able to walk for a while. cause you wanted it first anyway.

the windows were fogged, and the sound of your sinful moans and grunts were the only thing occupying the inside of the car, replacing the silence that would have been there with sounds that would be perfect for damn porn good enough to jerk off to.

it was devastating the speed with which you were both close to your orgasm, but it was probably the fault of all that pent-up tension that had finally disappeared in a quick gesture.

matt didn't think about chris as he came inside you, and neither did you as you let him. at all. he didn't even cross your fucked up minds while your bodies, sweaty and exhausted, entwined inside each other in search of a heat capable of calming those similar voids inside you.

but you soon realized you were done when your phone started ringing, and taking it lazily from your dropped bag, you read the name of your current boyfriend. chris.

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #smut #18+ smut

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casualhedonists · 10 months

Text

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter four)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder/violence mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, roughhousing, overstimulation, insane amounts of teasing, some mild dubcon scenes/allusions to dubcon, some power play, lots of switching between dom/sub dynamics, oral sex, thigh riding, face sitting, degradation, dirty talk, edging/orgasm denial, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here (and pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

chapter: 4/?

SERIES MASTERLIST

words: 6.3k (🫠)

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

a/n: thank you for your patience while i got my shit together (christmas edition). enjoy, this filth seems to get longer with each chapter. i’ll be gone for a few weeks over the holidays, so no chapter updates for a bit, but have no doubt i’ll be back for more in the new year <;33

Coriolanus Snow was not a patient man. He’d played the long game enough times in his climb to the top of Panem to know that once he got up there, he wouldn’t be sitting on the sidelines anymore, waiting for life to happen to him. He would take what he wanted from whoever he wanted, with no delay.

Who were you to tell him what he could and couldn’t have? Who were you to deny him, walking away like you’d won, like you’d just played him like a fiddle and left him out in the dust? He replayed your self-satisfied smile as you disappeared from his view and he stood there, considering his options. The most tempting would be to follow you back to your room, to shove you up against a wall, to tear off his jacket and watch that smug look melt right off your face.

The second would’ve been to send for the whore, but it would’ve been a cheap thrill and besides, you’d made a point of getting rid of her.

He’d almost had you, he could see it. Could see the quiver in your lip as your blown-out eyes had rolled open, before you’d climbed off his lap. He was certain that if he chipped away at enough of your resolve, you’d give in. The thought of having to work for this incensed him, who were you to make demands from the President himself?

But the calculating part of his brain decided, with disdain, that he would have to be patient for once. He doubted you could go very long before giving into him; he’d seen it in your eyes, it had taken everything in you to leave him that night.

You wanted to go on a power trip? Fine. Snow knew it would be short lived, and you were making enough of a spectacle of yourself that it should prove entertaining to him. He decided he was going to let you have your fun, brief and fleeting as it may be. He always did enjoy a chase, and he wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

You wanted to play? Fine.

He closed his door, leaving it unlocked.

Let the games begin.

Breakfast was a sweet kind of torture. You’d wrapped a short, silk dressing gown around your underwear set from the night before, confident after your first good night’s sleep in weeks. Headed downstairs early, so you could be there when he walked in.

“Morning, sweetie.” You smiled as you sipped at a cup of coffee.

Snow’s eyes narrowed. He sat opposite you without a word, pouring himself a cup and buttering a piece of toast. His morning paper was neatly folded on the side, and you eyed it quickly, before taking him in.

It was subtle – something probably only you could pick up on, knowing what you did – but it was there, in the slight crinkle of his usually perfect shirt, in the way he took coffee instead of tea, in the way he focused carefully on spreading the butter to every edge of his slice of toast. You glanced down again, a mischievous sense of pride filling you up.

You’d gotten under his skin.

Finally.

“Well,” you cleared your throat, “I don’t know about you, but I slept like a log. You?”

His eyes met yours heatedly, but he didn’t reply. One of his footmen stood posted by the door, eyes straight ahead.

“No?” You faked pity. “You look a little tired, Coriolanus. Rough night?”

Nothing. He didn’t respond to your taunts, but instead took his paper, unfolding it, and you watched intently with a glint in your eye as you saw him react to something slipping out of the pages and into his lap.

He let out a surprised scoff, lowered the paper, and looked straight at you. Your eyebrows raised in response.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, with a lilt in your voice.

When he finally spoke, his voice was steady.

“Leave us, please.” He said to the footman, without breaking off his stare once. The footman obliged, closing the door behind him. His eyes bored into you with a similar intensity as they had the night before.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” He asked, but it was flat like a statement.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You batted your eyes, feigning innocence.

He lifted his hand from his lap, holding up the pair of white lace panties you’d tucked between the folds of his newspaper. Raised his eyebrows in a question.

“Oh,” you smiled. “Whoops. I’d been wondering where I left those.”

His stare remained unfaltering, and you rubbed your legs together.

“Very cute, sweetheart.”

You smirked.

“You think so? Just something to remember me by. Lucille said you’ll be gone until tomorrow for work, I wouldn’t want you forgetting about last night.”

His eyes darkened, never leaving yours as you stood, making your way down the table.

“It’s a shame, really. I feel a little guilty about what I did. I got you all worked up for nothing.”

He scoffed, watching as you got closer.

“Yeah, you seem all torn up about it.”

You hummed, reaching him, and nodded at his lap, where his hand gripped the white lace.

“May I?”

“Be my guest.” He said tightly.

You straddled his lap again, and he looked up at you. You felt another surge of that power, standing over him with very little between you, as you ran your palms over his jacket, smoothing it out, then plucking the white rose from his breast pocket, and tucking your panties inside. As you pushed the rose back in, you smiled, satisfied.

“I should be more careful about misplacing things,” you mused, “Could’ve sworn I threw those in the laundry. You want to know something funny?”

“What?” Snow watched your hand pull away, and you met his gaze again.

“I’m not even sure I’m wearing a pair right now.”

It happened so quickly, it knocked the breath out of you. One second, you were balanced with your legs either side of his, and the next, you were pushed back onto the table as he stood, grabbing your waist, and leaning over you. A plate shattered on the floor, but Coriolanus didn’t flinch.

You squirmed but he gripped your hips harder, sliding one hand up to support your back and stop you from toppling straight onto the table. The cold wood pressed into your bare legs, and a glass dug into your back. You realised with a shaky breath that your dressing gown had fallen open. He was stood flush between your legs, pinning you down.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He snapped.

“I told you, didn’t I?” A hum as his hips rolled into yours. “Whatever I want.”

“I could force your hand, you know.” He commented. “Right now.”

“You think I wouldn’t want you to?”

His face was unreadable. His head dipped towards yours, and when he spoke it brushed against your lips.

“You really are a whore.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I know you’re all bark and no bite. You want to know why I know that, Snow?”

He huffed.

“Why?”

“Because I think you like chasing me.” Your eyes lowered to your legs, pressed apart by his hips. Your ankles wrapped around his lower back and pressed him in further. His jaw clenched.

He followed your gaze, and you felt his breath hitch when he saw that you weren’t lying, there was nothing between the two of you except his pants.

“Fuck.” He whispered.

It did something to you, hearing him so desperate. You pulled him in again with your heels, and he looked back at you. He rocked his hips, velvet cloth rubbing against your bare cunt, and you gasped at the feeling, still sore from last night.

Any time now.

“You want to fuck me, Snow?” You whispered. “Do it. Right now, I won’t stop you.”

His breaths were heavy as he rocked his hips again, firm, and it was obscene, really, how you could feel the outline of his cock pushing against you through the thick material, and his breath was getting laboured.

Almost there.

“Knew you’d give in.” His voice was rough as he pressed in harder, and you whimpered, eyes fluttering shut, “So fucking desperate. Didn’t expect you to open your legs this soon, though. Thought you’d rile me up for a few days first. But look at you,” he rambled, “giving up so easily. Where’s all that fight now, sweetheart?”

A loud rap sounded at the door.

There it is.

You couldn’t keep the smile from spreading across your face as he stopped still.

“Oh,” you blinked innocently at him, “I wonder who that could be.”

“President Snow? We’re ready for you, sir.” The footman’s voice was muffled through the door.

“Well, would you look at the time? I guess duty calls, Mr President.”

He scowled, shooting ice cold daggers at you.

“You bitch. You knew.”

“And you fell for it.” You smirked, digging your heels into his back again. “Who’s desperate now?”

He scoffed, meeting your eye again.

“You think you’re so smart, little girl. You really think I’d mind if they walked in on me fucking you into the table?”

“I know you’re not against having an audience, Snow. But what are you gonna do, hang the health minister if he walks in? I know you’re not above it, but it’d be a slight inconvenience. Surely there are wiser ways to spend your precious time.”

“Yeah? Try me.”

His nails dug into your back as he pulled you in closer. For just a second, you had a doubt. But not long enough.

“I’m calling your bluff, Coriolanus Snow.”

He shook his head. Peeled himself off you with a huff, and tried to smooth out his shirt, glaring at you the whole time.

“I’ll be right out.” He called.

You slid off the table and stood, tying your gown, then reaching to fiddle with his collar. He batted your hand away.

“Let me.” You reached out again.

“Fine.”

Your hands smoothed over the material, straightening it out, then once you were satisfied, they rested on his chest for a beat.

“You look handsome.” You confessed quietly, not meeting his eye as you spoke. You could feel his stare burning into you as you did. When you finally looked, his expression had shifted to something unreadable again. Confusion, perhaps. It was times like these when you wished you could read his mind.

The moment finally passed and you cleared your throat, trailing a hand over his breast pocket, a physical reminder of the game you were intent on winning.

“This was fun.” You declared with a smile, putting the mask back on. “Hurry back. What time shall I expect you?”

“No later than noon.” He watched as you stepped away.

“I look forward to it,” you smiled, playing with the string of your gown, “sweetheart.”

With Snow out of the house, you jumped at the chance to head straight upstairs, making a beeline for his room. Something inside you just knew the door would be unlocked, that he wouldn’t be able to resist. You were right.

At last, you were able to take a good look around the room, touring it as if it was some art museum. And it wasn’t far from it; with wood panelled walls and strong beams on the ceiling, plush velvet throw pillows and bedsheets, with crisp white linen tucked underneath. You wandered around for a while, brushing your fingers over the sides, taking it all in. It was perfectly neat, almost jarringly so. You wondered if he always kept it like this, or if it was for your benefit. Since he’d probably guessed you’d be going inside, you took little guilt in peeking into a few drawers, and flipping through the pages of the book on his nightstand.

Your curiosity then took you into the bathroom, where, after scanning the shelves, you decided to undress and take a shower, steam and the smell of his soap filling the large room. You took the opportunity to slide your hands between your legs and replay the morning’s events, filling in what you’d have had liked to have happen instead of him leaving. When you were finished, you wrapped yourself in a soft towel, and walked out, spotting a glass bottle of cologne on the edge of the sink. With a smile, you gently sprayed a little on your wrist, breathing it in, sighing deeply as the smell of him went to your head.

You got dressed again, thumbing through his closet, basking in the buzz you had from being in his space. You sat on his bed, taking his room in from a new perspective. When you were satisfied, you headed back to your own with a smile, only coming back that evening with a handful of your things, before falling into a peaceful sleep under his sheets.

A few days passed after that morning, and you barely saw Snow. He’d come back, but gone straight to his office, where he proceeded to spend long hours on the phone, stuck on some important business you had no business nosing about.

So, you waited, your games paused and painfully anticlimactic. You hated feeling like a helpless housewife, but this was apparently what you’d been reduced to. You saw your friends some of the evenings, and your family on others. Then you’d come home to hover outside Snow’s locked study to listen to the sounds of pen on paper, peppered with the occasional sigh. You would have waited for him to come out, but you gave up as the hours drawing longer. He stayed holed up in his office, night after night, and by the time he’d finished the evening’s work, sleep had long carried you away.

It hadn’t all been dull; you’d fallen into a habit of sneaking pairs of your underwear in with the clean laundry that was carried up to his room, and that had earned you a little attention, but it was merely in passing. A few heated glances at the dinner table, a brush past each other in the hallway. You’d go so far as to say it was almost like flirting, only laced with the undertones of something far heavier. It wasn’t enough for you now that you’d tasted what you could have if only you reached for it, and you started to go a little stir crazy again.

One of these nights, you’d slipped into his empty room after dark, and lay in his bed, trying to stay awake as long as you could, but sleep caught up to you and by morning, you woke alone, wrapped in soft sheets, no sign of Snow except for a slightly warm dent on his side of the bed that had long been abandoned.

You got nothing. Not a touch, not an argument, not a kiss. For a week and a half, until he was called away again. Your annoyance had started to creep back up on you tenfold by then, and you were practically crawling out of your skin.

You saw your family for dinner more and more, making a habit out of filling the empty space he'd left with small talk and laughter. It was on one such night, when you'd been silently mulling over what move to make next, that your mother mentioned a name you hadn't heard in years, and you knew right away what to do. You were done hiding away, you wanted to make yourself known. Make every second Snow spent in your presence a living hell, and a reminder of what you’d denied him. You'd hoped for something outrageous, something that would push him to the very edge. And if this didn't work, nothing would.

Nathaniel Greene was an old flame of yours. He’d always been good to you, warm and well-meaning; and he was handsome, in a gentle, boyish way. When your mother mentioned him, a beautifully cruel idea struck you. You weren’t naturally as cold-hearted as Coriolanus, but as the weeks had gone by, you’d begun to believe that maybe, in order to win this, you needed to be. Nathaniel would be perfect; the two of you had been school friends, you had history, something Snow couldn’t compete with, and you knew that would drive him insane. He was all soft edges, smiles, and pleasantries, everything that Snow wasn’t.

You felt a sliver of guilt as you began putting your plan together, but you reasoned that you and Snow had bruised each other, and low blows were what it would take for you to press into his the hardest. This was always never going to be simple; it was a messy game, and you needed to get your hands dirty.

Besides, he’d paraded a whore around the house for you to watch him fucking for weeks on end. It was fair game, you reminded yourself. So with that decided, you rose to the occasion, and the plan was set into motion.

That was how it came to be that on the day Snow returned, he walked in to find a guest sat in his living room. You were all false smiles and batted eyelashes when you saw him.

“Coriolanus, you’re back. I’d like you to meet Nathaniel, he and I used to be friends at school.”

Nathaniel rose from his seat on the sofa, and leaned toward Snow to shake his hand.

“Mr President, sir, it’s an absolute honor to be in your company. You have a lovely house.”

Nathaniel missed the slight tick in Snow’s jaw, but you didn’t. He offered his hand in response.

“The pleasure’s mine. Any… friend of my girl is always welcome here.”

My girl. The words went straight to your head, and Coriolanus pulled you in for a kiss that lingered half a second longer than usual, like he knew.

“Would you like some tea, sweetheart?” You asked, “Nathaniel and I were just catching up.”

“I remember that summer.” You laughed. “Your aunt took us to the coast, and we swam in the ocean at least twice a day. It was so cold one morning, your cousin’s lips turned blue. And on the way home, we had to stop at that inn, do you remember it?”

“With the owner and his crazy beard.”

“The crazy beard owner!” you exclaimed. “And the room you and I stayed in was so laughably small, the bed touched three of the walls all at once. Cozy, though.”

Nathaniel glanced awkwardly between the two of you, clearing his throat.

“Yeah, those were, uh… good times.”

Fire ran rampant through Snow’s eyes. You didn’t look directly at him, but your peripherals gave you plenty of satisfaction.

He was enraged. Good. You’d been mercilessly torturing him for the better part of an hour.

“Oh, Nathaniel, that reminds me, I’ll go get the book I was telling you about earlier.”

“Book?” He frowned, “I don’t-”

“You know the one! I’ll be right back.” You interrupted, then practically bounced out of your seat and walked toward the library. At the far end of the large room, you paused, pretending earnestly to scan the spines for a particular title.

You were quiet, making sure you could hear the echo of Snow excusing himself, followed by steady footsteps approaching you from behind.

“Something wrong?” You asked, keeping your back turned.

He grabbed your waist and spun you around. Backed you up until you were pressed to the wall, wooden shelves digging into your spine.

“Give me one good reason,” he spat, “why I shouldn’t kill that boy right now.”

You blinked.

“What’s wrong, Snow? Can’t take a little jealousy? Surprising, given your recent choice of company.”

“So that’s it? All this to get a rise out of me? You shouldn’t have gone to the trouble.” he scoffed.

You smiled, meeting his eye.

“Oh, but maybe I should. See, Coriolanus, here’s the thing.” you leaned towards him, running a finger down the front of his dress shirt, catching over each shining button as it glided down. “I haven’t decided if I should fuck him, yet. What do you think I should do?”

“I think,” he snarled, grabbing your wrists and pressing them against the wooden shelves, then dropping his voice down to a whisper, his breath mixing with yours, “that I should fuck you right here while he listens in the next room, and show him who you really belong to.”

You faltered, if only for a few moments. Your pride wavering as you heard the want drip from his voice, still getting used to his eyes skating across your skin the way you’d hoped and prayed they would for months. If you wanted it, you could take it right now, and you almost folded. He moved in ever closer, and your head dropped against the bookshelf, letting his lips graze your neck, blonde curls dusting your shoulder. You stayed there, suspended, letting it roll over you like water.

“What would your little friend in there think, if he could hear how much of a whore you really are? I wouldn’t even let you cover your mouth. I’d just hike up your slutty little dress and send you back out there with cum dripping down your thighs. How do you think he’d like you then?”

Your breath hitched, and you squeezed your eyes closed, pressing your legs together. Tried to rationalise the logic of throwing your plans to the wind and letting him stake his claim on you.

You considered it. Briefly.

But you were already in so deep, you had to see this through. Snow had fucked with you, then left you out to dry, and you had to make sure he would never do it again. So no, you wouldn’t be the one to fold. He would, on your terms. And now wasn’t the time, not yet.

So you collected yourself. Pulled away, batting your pretty eyes at him.

“Oh, but I’m having so much fun.”

“Don’t test me. You’ve proved your point.” he seethed, stepping closer, and one more inch and you might burst-

“Nathaniel’s waiting. I’ll see you at dinner, Coriolanus.”

With that, you slipped away, silently catching your breath.

You’d just finished dinner alone, no Snow in sight, and you were walking back towards the hallway when the doors swung open.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Your hands were above your head as Snow pushed you into the dining room wall. This was starting to become a habit. A sly smile pulled at your lips.

“Stings, doesn’t it? Getting a taste of your own medicine.”

He got in close, rage burning hot in his eyes.

“What you did was different, and you know that."

"I don't know, Coriolanus, was it? I've just been so bored, lately. Idle hands, I suppose."

If looks could kill, you'd be a goner.

"That's your excuse? At least I had the decency to fuck a stranger. Tell me you didn’t-”

You laughed.

“You really think I’d do anything without making sure you watched? God, Snow, you don’t know me at all.”

He moved in closer.

“If you ever do that again, if you so much as look his way, I’ll have him whipped in the middle of the city. Or maybe I won’t bother. I’ll just have him hung, and I’ll make sure you’re there at the front of the crowd to watch him drop, knowing his blood is on your hands. Do you understand me?”

You set your jaw. Shrugged.

“Okay.”

He frowned. You took pride in the way you could see it, him trying desperately to figure you out.

“Okay?” He repeated.

“You heard me. You think I really care enough about him, that I’d invite him into the house just to make you jealous, then expect him to end up alive? How stupid do you think I am?”

You did care about Nathaniel, at least enough to not want him dead, but Snow couldn’t know that. Not for this to work.

“You’re bluffing.” But you could hear in his voice that he wasn’t sure.

“Am I? Your threats don’t phase me, Coriolanus. Do your worst, I don’t care anymore. What, did you think I’d try to talk you out of it? You think I’d beg?”

His bewilderment caused him to drop your wrists, and you took the chance to push yourself away from the wall.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? But I won’t fold. I meant what I said that night. You want me to be yours, you want to own me? You have to earn it. My way. You’re not going to get anywhere trying to scare me into submission. It won’t work.”

Disbelief flashed across his face. You stood your ground, raising your head up high, leaning in.

“I don’t want to fight you, Coriolanus.” You confessed. “Your room. An hour. Don’t keep me waiting.”

Say what you wanted about Coriolanus Snow, but when you asked him to be on time, he obliged. You didn’t even need to hear his footsteps to know he’d come, which you’d grown finely attuned to by now, enough to hear them leave his office two rooms away and walk the short distance to his room, swinging open the door you’d left decidedly ajar.

And you made sure what he walked in on was a sight to behold; you, sprawled out on his bed in nothing but a white shirt of his, unbuttoned all the way down, falling to your sides. Your head pressed into his silk pillowcases, legs parted lazily as your hand rubbed slow circles on your clit beneath the red lace of your underwear. You could tell from the look on Snow’s face when you rolled your head to the side and looked at him that you’d had the desired effect, that you’d orchestrated this perfectly, because he couldn’t take his eyes off your hand, hips rocking into it, the visual made all the more lewd by the scrap of fabric hiding your movements, leaving his brain to fill in the blanks.

You slowed.

“Glad you could make it.” A small smile formed on your lips.

“I see you’ve made yourself comfortable.”

“I have. Your bed’s a lot softer than mine.”

He hummed, crossing his arms.

“Why did you ask me here, sweetheart? This is my room, after all.”

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, and even that small motion wasn’t lost on him. Your hand stilled.

“I waited for you.” You said quietly.

He let out a sigh, ragged and tired.

“I know. I’m sorry, sweetheart. If you knew how badly I wanted to see you-”

“Don’t. I don’t want your apology.”

His expression gave way to confusion for a split second.

“Okay. What is it you want?”

You paused, gaze flitting between his eyes and his mouth. Then you swallowed, your voice an embrassing whisper.

“I want your mouth on me.” It almost hurt to hold his stare, but you did.

“That so?” was the response. You cleared your throat.

“You say you’re sorry, Snow? Prove it. I’m right here.”

He paused, like he was mulling you over. Like he was figuring out just how to play his cards. Then a small smile pulled at his lips.

“Take your hand away.” His voice was rough, and it gave him away.

You obliged, watching him step towards the bed, towards you. He rolled up his sleeves, eyes on yours and your stomach twisted.

There he is.

“If you’re going to be making demands, it’s only polite that you ask nicely. Wouldn’t you agree?”

You nodded, flushing under his stare.

“You want me to take these off?” He smoothed his hands up your thighs, thumbs hooking into the band of your panties. You'd missed feeling his hands on your skin.

You nodded again, and he tutted.

“Yes.” You corrected. “Please.”

“Good. It was about time you learned some manners.” He slowly slid them off, and you lifted your hips to help him. His gaze slid between your legs, and you shifted your knee so you were covered.

“Not getting shy now, are you? Open your legs for me.” He instructed, and you obliged, burning under the heat of his gaze as he unbuttoned his shirt, slipping it off before moving in towards you, kneeling on the ottoman. You were already soaked, and you could feel the heat building even more, just from having him near you, having him see what a dripping mess you were.

“Shit.” It was no louder than a whisper, but your perked ears caught it and you pressed your lips together.

He tentatively pushed his thumb through your folds and you whined, a look on his face like he couldn’t quite believe what he was looking at. Did it again, and it caught on your clit, your breath hitching in your throat.

“Please.”

“Good girl. You know how many times I’ve thought about this over the past week? I’ve lost sleep over it.”

“Coriolanus.”

He smoothed his hands over your thighs again, and you yelped as he suddenly pulled you forward, hooking your legs over his shoulders. He kept staring, and you couldn’t take it, blood rushing from your head, so you dropped it back onto the pillows.

“Look at me.” He squeezed your thigh.

You did. You felt a sliver of pride as you noted the slight flush in his cheeks, like maybe he was more worked up than he was letting on.

“You know how many times I came all over those pretty panties of yours, wishing you were wearing them? Think I lost count.”

You couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped you as his breath brushed over your folds, wound so tight you thought you would burst.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart. Say it again.”

“I want your mouth on me. Please, put your mouth on me.”

You didn’t need to tell him twice, because with a sharp inhale, he pressed his mouth onto your cunt and dragged his tongue over your clit, slowly, firm and deliberate, like he had an itemised list of exactly how to cause your undoing. You gasped at the sudden contact, and your hips bucked off the bed, before his fingers gripped into your hips the way they had the other night, and slammed you back down.

“So fucking needy. Were you really that worked up? Parading your little boy toy around will do that, huh?”

“I’m sorry.” You gasped, as he worked his tongue over your clit again, tracing slow, firm circles that made your legs weak. You grabbed a handful of his hair, blonde locks twisted between your fingers as he pulled away again. You whined.

“See, that’s the thing. I don’t think you are. But you will be.”

You didn’t have time to wonder what that meant, because his tongue was all over you again, lapping at your entrance, lips sucking loudly at your clit as you moaned, free hand twisting creases into his bedsheets.

“Fuck.” You keened as your hips bucked harder, searching for friction that was so close to being enough. Your heels pressed into his back and your hand tightened in his hair, to which he retaliated by digging his nails into your thighs, scraping against the almost-healed bruises that were left from the previous week. The pinch brought you further into that headspace, where you could feel yourself slipping away, crying out as you thrashed under the pressure of his tongue on your cunt.

You kept rocking your hips, hopelessly trying to grind against him, but his hands held you down firmly, keeping the pace torturously slow. You couldn’t help your spaced-out brain from slipping back to weeks ago, when you’d watched him do the same to his whore on this very bed, and you made a sound of protest that just melted in with the rest of your noises, going unnoticed.

You didn’t want to feel this way, to feel disposable, like he could just have his way with you and throw you out. You knew that if you didn’t do something, you’d lose yourself altogether. And you couldn’t bear that thought, of having to give in. Not like this. Not when he held all the cards again.

“I want to sit on your face.” You breathed without thinking, strung out and desperate. Coriolanus pulled back. A smirk on his lips, which were swollen red and covered in your slick. You whimpered as the soft light caught him, showing you the mess you’d made of his face, dripping down his chin.

“Do you now?”

“Please. I’ll ask nicely, I’ll – I’ll beg, if you want me to. Just please, let me sit on your face. I can’t take it anymore, I’m so-” You broke off, gasping as he pressed a soft kiss onto your clit, causing your legs to jolt.

“Poor thing. You really want it, don’t you?”

“Yes. Please, I’ll do anything. Just… please.”

“Good girl.” He murmured, trailing soft kisses down your thigh. “Since you’ve asked so nicely, I’ll let you. Just for a few minutes, okay? Think you can cum that fast?”

“Fuck, yes. Thank you.”

A messy tangle of limbs as he pulled his shirt off, sliding flat onto the bed, hands guiding your shaking legs as you inched over his torso. It was nearly too much, watching his pretty face as you lowered yourself onto him, but you couldn’t look away, hands grabbing the headboard to steady yourself. You couldn’t help but think back to that night, riding his thigh like you were being paid for it. As he carefully eased your hips down, thighs either side of his face, you knew this was going to be a hundred times better than that. And Snow didn’t disappoint, lifting his head to nuzzle your clit as you sucked in a breath, hips jolting forward. You dropped a hand to grab onto his hair, and he didn’t retaliate this time, letting you wind your fingers around his curls as you started to move slowly, rocking your hips against his mouth.

This was much better. The angle was perfect, pressure everywhere you needed it, and you tipped your head back as you moved, one languid lick causing it to drop forward again to look at Snow.

The only time he really moved was to pull you in firmer, and the motion reminded you of how he’d pulled you into his thigh, and before you knew it the ache in your stomach was growing into a throb, burning you up until it felt molten, until you felt drunk from it. The coil tightened further as you got into it, rolling your hips, tugging Snow’s hair to the point where you were sure it must’ve been hurting him, but he either didn’t care or just didn’t stop you. As your hips bucked faster and you looked down at his face, eyes hazy as he ate you out like he was starved, you couldn’t help it, you just started talking, rambling near nonsense and it wouldn’t stop.

“Fuck, that’s it, right there. You’re gonna make me cum all over your face if you keep that up. Holy shit.” Your grip in his hair tightened, so hard it was pulling his head back so you could grind against him just right, clit catching on his nose, cunt spasming against his tongue, and he winced, a broken sound escaping the back of his throat, but it only egged you on. Your voice breathy but taunting, getting cockier by the second.

“Does that hurt, baby? Am I pulling too hard?” His eyes narrowed, but his tongue only fucked into you harder. “You can take it though, can’t you? Fuck. You’re being so good for me, letting me fuck your face like this. Feels so fucking good. Shit, I thought you’d take more convincing, but look at you, eating from the palm of my hand.”

His hands gripped into your hips again, nails digging crescent moons into your skin, and you tightened your thighs around his head which only made him dig harder, the pain tipping you over the edge as you shouted out, hips jerking as your thighs shook, and Snow only pressed in firmer with his tongue as you came, riding out your high with a strangled sob.

He didn’t give you chance to come down from your orgasm, instead pushing you off his face and flipping you over. You landed on your back, scared for a second that you’d be punished for getting carried away, but his lips met yours in a sudden battle for dominance. You moaned into his mouth as you tasted yourself on his tongue. He’d never kissed you like this before. It lit another fire in your stomach, just when you thought you were done.

After what felt like a lifetime getting drunk off each other, he pulled away, and you got to see the mess you’d made of this man. There he was, propped above you, the most powerful man in the country, blonde hair a sweaty wreck of tangles, parted lips sore and swollen, your cum smeared across his mouth and chin, mixed with the trail of your wet tongue in the places you’d just cleaned him up.

You tasted it on your lips, heard it in his laboured breath, saw it in his blown-out eyes, felt it in the small space between you.

This was what power felt like.

He was shaking his head incredulously, like he couldn’t quite believe you. Then, ignoring your hiss, his head dipped between your legs again, smooth tongue rolling over you like cool water on a burn. You flinched, a broken sound slipping from your lips.

“Oh, come on. You can give me one more, right?”

Fuck.

“Coriolanus, I can’t-” You whined as his hot breath lit you up, long fingers sliding inside you.

“You will. Come on, baby. You can take my fingers, can’t you?” His voice mimicked yours as he opened you up, speeding up a little. You hummed as he pressed against your sweet spot, and you hated how it seemed like it was so easy to him, to take you apart like this.

“Good girl. Look at me.” He scolded, when your eyes rolled back, squirming from the overstimulation, pressing his thumb against your clit just to watch you jolt.

“You’re going to do something for me. You’re going to promise me you won’t ever see him again.”

“What? Who, Nathaniel? I-”

He pressed into your clit again, mean, and you squeaked.

“Don’t say his fucking name. Promise me, right now. Say it.”

“I promise. Never again. I’m sorry, fuck, I’m so sorry.” You sobbed.

“Good girl.” He smiled.

“Don’t want anyone else, just you, please. Please, Coriolanus. Will you promise me too?” Your words were airy, and your voice shook.

He slowed his fingers, and shifted himself up to place his lips on yours.

“I promise, sweetheart. It’ll just be us.” His fingers pressed into you harder, scissoring lazily, but every movement lit all your nerve endings on fire. You were so wet it was almost humiliating, or it would be if you weren’t so turned on, obscene sounds bouncing off the walls as he worked you open. Coriolanus could tell, smiling as he whispered praises, sweet nothings into your ear and added a third finger, thumb brushing across your clit as the sensitivity quickly morphed into more pleasure.

“You close again, baby?”

You only whimpered in response, head jerking as your eyes squeezed close, arm sliding down to grab his wrist, pushing it further. You were wrecked, and he knew it. It was his doing.

“Ah.” He knocked your hand away with a knowing smile. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart. I’m listening.”

You paused, at a mental crossroads, but as he twisted his fingers just right, pressing deeper, you dropped all your inhibitions. Squeezed your eyes closed, cunt gripping his fingers, and confessed.

“I want you to fuck me.” You whispered.

You knew full well what it meant. You didn’t care anymore; you’d had your fun, and you were ready to fold. Lay all your cards out on the table. This ache inside you had never felt so loud. You refused to open your eyes, which were threatening to fill with desperate tears.

“Ask nicely.” He pulled his fingers back, dragging them along your sweet spot. You were starting to lose feeling in your legs.

“Please. Please, fuck me. I’m done, now, I promise. I won’t do it again, Coriolanus, I’m so sorry-”

“Say it again. One more time. Look at me.”

You sighed, eyes flooding with hot tears. You finally opened them.

“Please, Coriolanus. Fuck me.”

He smiled, but as quickly as it arrived, it morphed into something sinister.

“No.”

His hand stopped, fingers slipping out of you before you could stop them. Your high started to slip away. You rocked your hips, confused out of your mind. Driven to your edge, and then in the same breath, catapulting to a stop.

“I- wait, no… what?” You sounded delirious.

He shrugged, casually lifting his fingers, sucking them off with a pop.

“I don’t think I will. You’ve done quite enough, and I’ve had a long day. So I think you should be on your way now.”

You gaped, dumbfounded. The tears threatened to spill down your cheeks, but you held them in like they were your last shred of pride.

“But… you said we wouldn’t… I thought-”

He traced a hand across your check, gently, and it took everything in you not to sob.

“I meant what I said. But I’m not quite ready to forgive and forget. You should go and get some sleep.”

“Coriolanus, I- please.” You begged him, eyes wild and desperate.

“Stings, doesn’t it?” He raised his eyebrows and something inside you sank like a heavy cruiser. “A taste of your own medicine.”

a/n: sorry mom

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wtfsteveharrington · 4 months

Text

c l o s e t o y o u | carmen berzatto x reader

we've got so much history baby

description: set months after your breakup, you and carmen navigate what it means to be separated. you're trying to move on but waves always return to the ocean.

warnings: kinda angsty but also hurt/comfort. mutual pining even tho you're both trying to pretend it isn't there. miscommunication. kinda mentions of cheating if you squint but not really. no one has cheated but what to call this vibe irdk so! also mentions of using the bathroom if that bothers you!! it's quick!

smut warnings: oral/fingering reader receiving, spanking, dirty talk, hints of dom!carmy, unprotected sex but backshots for 'safety', sexting, semi public sex, lots of hickies/bruises talk bc carmy's a lil shit, multiple mentions of masturbation for both, reader has a drunk bar make out phase post breakup. reader is afab but no major descriptors used.

word count: almost 9.2k. the longest thing i've written so far!

a/n: dare i say this might be my favorite thing i've written possibly. aiming to make this a three part series but possibly could go longer.... i hope you enjoy <3

maybe you and i were meant to be / maybe i'm crazy

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Carmen’s eyes are trained on you from the second your front door opens. His hands stalled halfway through taking off his jacket, only one shoe clattering across your entryway.

“Where’ve you been tonight?”

Which you have no choice but to shoot him a warning glance in response. It was late, you didn’t have the energy for a fight and that’s the complete opposite reason of why you texted him to come over. “I was on a date, Carmen.”

He physically deflated at your answer. “Oh.”

You can’t meet his eye, can’t risk seeing his reaction. Would he be upset? Indifferent? It’s hard to decide which would be worse.

When you had broken up a few months ago the roles were clear - A case of ‘right person, wrong time’. He was busy, so endlessly busy. Working late into the night and heading in randomly during the morning or afternoon if he was needed. Which he could easily decide he was.

For as long as you could remember Carmen always took Tuesdays off to spend with you and get life in order. That way he had Monday to help the restaurant recover from the weekend and could trust them to handle what was, usually, an easier day. It was a tradition you took seriously and the two of you regularly made plans together every single Tuesday. Date nights, day trips, a mixture of adventures. It didn't matter what you were doing together so long as you had Tuesday to look forward to and help get you through the week.

Yet things started picking up. More celebrity dining requests, more magazine and tv interviews, more, more, more.

And it wasn’t that you misunderstood how important the restaurant was. Far from it. There were many nights where Carmen would come home a ball of anxiety because it took an hour longer than he anticipated and he knew it wasn’t fair to you. There would be a mess of apologies as he barreled in the door, bracing himself for a fight or to see your disappointed face. All of which you happily soothed by repeating constant mantras - The restaurant was his baby; you weren’t upset; take a deep breath; we’re okay.

Then eventually you stopped saying you weren’t upset, stopped saying you two were okay. Eventually you stopped waiting up for him at all. At first Carmen would shower and climb into bed, confused if he should attempt to hold you or not. Your sleeping (Fine, sometimes you faked being asleep too) frame with your back turned to him. The blankets pulled tight around your body acting like a shield.

Finally he just started sleeping on the couch.

So yeah, the fall apart came quick. It was an avalanche neither of you could control nor did either of you want. There was still love between the two of you - But again it’s the right person, wrong time.

You avoided each other for the following weeks. Carmen threw himself even more into work and you took a week of PTO to go visit one of your friends. He wondered if you were safe, you wondered why none of the people in the bar tasted the way he did. Your friend encouraged you with every sloppy make out conquest but it always ended there. You wanted to get Carmen out of your mind but weren’t ready for him to not be the last person who fully touched you.

It didn’t work but does it ever?

Carmen watched your Insta far more than he should have. Risking way too many glances down at his phone during his free time to see if there were any updates about how you were doing. As if you’d post photos with long captions that mimicked a therapy session but he didn’t know where else to go. Sydney would report back what your story shows no matter how much Carm insisted he didn’t care.

Because he didn’t, okay? He was fine. He knew it was for the best. Right?

And then you posted a photo of yourself in a low cut top laughing in a bookstore. He zoomed in to see what titles you had in your arms as if they were clues and his eyes definitely didn’t linger on the swell of your cleavage. He didn’t think about how many nights he took for granted watching as your back arched up under him and you begged for more. He didn’t think about the way you’d crawl into bed at night and his mind would instantly rid itself of anything but you. He didn’t jack off to memories of you in the shower every morning because thinking about someone else, watching porn of other people, it didn’t feel wrong. No, that wasn’t the case at all.

You, on the other hand, turned on Google alerts for anything relating to The Bear or Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto. Most of it was just good Yelp! ratings or fluff pieces from the local papers. He wasn’t one for posting on social media, in fact you weren’t sure he used it at all but you still posted like he was, but sometimes you’d find yourself scrolling through Sydney’s feed to see if she was giving you any crumbs. Sometimes, if you were really desperate, you’d find yourself in Richie’s feed even. It was pathetic but you can’t help it.

One late night you came across an Instagram story post Sydney had up. Carmen leaning against a pinball machine at some gaming bar downtown. His hair was pushed back, eyes crinkled up with laughter. He looked at ease, peaceful. You wondered if anyone there felt the same… Was someone whispering to their friends and trying to build the encouragement up to go talk to him? Would he respond?

Right, it wasn’t your place to care anymore. Yet you still cried yourself to sleep and yearned for when things felt so much easier.

Yeah, the breakup wasn’t exactly going well.

A few weeks ago you came across Carmen at the grocery store of all places. Both of you had gotten so used to doing the shopping Tuesday mornings and, logically, you were both comfortable going to the location just like you had been weekly for months. Your breath caught in your throat and God he looked better than you remembered. The first thing out of his mouth was, “Great sale on gouda this week.” And the only thing your brain could conjure up was, “Well that’s gouda.”

You both stayed silent for a moment before bursting out in laughter.

Laughter turned to getting lunch around the corner.

Lunch turned into you straddling Carmen’s waist in the car while parked in the very back corner of the parking lot and riding him until your eyes watered and you couldn’t focus long enough to keep a rhythm. He wrapped his arms, such strong arms, around your waist and fucked up into you for all that he was worth. Trying to prove himself in whatever capacity you allowed.

If he couldn’t love you like he wanted, he could at least fuck you better than anyone else would.

Once you two broke the seal of seeing each other it was hard to stop. There was almost a forbidden aspect to your relationship now that caused a small thrill to run down your spine every time you saw him late at night. You were pretty sure no one knew you started… Seeing each other again and you were both content keeping it a secret.

So that’s how you ended up here. Standing across from him at 11 o’clock at night on a random Wednesday. You try not to wonder if he left ‘early’ the second you reached out, instead convincing yourself that it just so happened to work out he was ready to go within minutes of you sending your ‘My place tonight?’ text during this horrific blind date your co-worker set up.

Jonathan, 6’1, finance major turned CPA for his family’s company. He was… Fine. Just fine. You left on good terms in case you wanted to call on him for back up one lonely night. The problem was no one else was Carmen no matter how hard you tried to look for him in the people that passed by.

And there he stood across from you with hair falling into his face and his eyes looking up at you like you’re crafted from Heaven. A skirt, thin tinted tights, a shirt that exposed just enough skin but not too much. The soft shimmer across your eyelids and glossy lips from the lip balm you’ve been continuously applying since you knew he was on the way. The last time he saw you like this was when you were fighting because Carmen accidentally showed up 15 minutes past when you were supposed to leave for a birthday party at your friend’s house and that night ended with you locking him out of the bedroom while he had to pretend he couldn’t hear you crying in the next room. He really didn’t mean to be late. Sometimes the nights just got taken away from him.

Carmen hated that you were dressed up for someone else but he pretends you just threw this on for him.

Your arms cross your chest, totally not attempting to push up your breasts, and you let out a sigh while you stare at Carmen. “This has to be the last time.” His face is stoic, a perfect poker face. The last time? Break up or not he couldn’t imagine there being a last time he saw you. Half the time he forgets, still referring to you as his partner while brushing it off and refusing to correct himself. Then there’s times where he comes home to his empty apartment and realizes you weren’t there to light the long forgotten candles on the coffee table or open up the windows to air the place out.

He closes the space between the two of you and stares at your face. Searching for answers he’s too scared to ask for. Your resolve is breaking, cracking under the weight of having him so close. Beautiful eyes staring at you, the way he smells like the cologne you bought for your last anniversary and clean laundry. If you weren’t so drunk on the sight of him you would have put it together that Carmen kept clean clothes at the Bear to make sure he could change before he came to see you.

You’re both silent for a moment before there’s two hands wrapping around either side of your neck and Carmen’s dragging you two together for a kiss. God, he couldn’t stand the idea of someone else kissing you. Would they even do it right? Do they know the way you moan when he licks into your mouth or the way you always grab ahold of his wrists when he cups your face? Do they know the way you forget to breathe sometimes when you’re lost in it? He’d have to pull back in order to give you a second to gasp in a rush of air. Does whoever you were with tonight know any of that?

You pull away from Carmen with a broken out moan, silva connecting your mouths and the faint taste of cigarettes on your tongue from him. Clamping your hands on his shoulders you just faintly push the two of you apart, trying desperately to collect your thoughts. Carmen crying during the break up, sobbing in your bed, living on autopilot for weeks, the way he kisses you like he’s scared it’s the last time anymore because it very well just might be. Everything coming back to you in flashes as he stands before you once again.

“I called you here for a reason, Carm.” His eyebrow is cocked, eyes flickering down to the bulge in his jeans that started growing the second he kissed you. “Uh - Yeah? Isn’t that what… I thought that’s what we were doing?” Carmen’s leaning in again, letting his lips connect to your neck. Warm kisses being pressed in a path up to just below your ear. “No uh, oh, remember how you let me keep the cast iron?” He hums in response, teeth nipping at your earlobe while broad hands start grabbing at your waist. “Yeah, uh huh, the cast iron skillet.” Fuck the stupid cast iron. He’s much more concerned with hooking fingers in the waistband of your skirt, attempting to pull it down while you’re fighting to stay focused.

“Well my friends came over the other night and oh Jesus.” He’s licking a strip up your neck now, only half focused on your story. “Carm, please, they were helping me clean up and someone left it soaking in hot water overnight.” That’s finally got him freezing in place, his aroused little sounds quickly turning into a groan of annoyance. “Fuck. That ruined-… I mean, the seasoning has to be ruined. Assuming it rusted?” You nod helpless, fingers dragging along his chest while Carmen stares over your shoulder.

His eye twitches involuntarily.

There’s a deep sigh coming from his body as he steps around you, finally kicking off his long forgotten second shoe before walking further into the apartment to head towards the kitchen.

And listen, it wasn’t that you were necessarily concerned so much with the pan. Sure the two of you had purchased it together during the first few weeks of talking. Carmen cooked breakfast with it every Tuesday morning and showed you how to care for this damn pan. It was the closest you two came to owning a pet just… In the form of a nine inch cast iron skillet. You were more curious if he would care. A simple way of testing the waters to see if he just cared about getting laid or still cared about you. The answer should have been obvious but you still had to know.

You follow behind him and wince at the stream of expletives that easily fall from his tongue at the sight of the pan in the sink. It wasn’t horrible but wasn’t ideal. “Y’know, crazy thing is I’m pretty sure I can guess who did this. They kept trying to convince me cast iron wasn’t any different from a standard pan no matter how many times I tried convincing them that just wasn’t the case.” He’s grumbling to himself while crouching down to fish out supplies from under the sink, easily navigating your apartment from memory. The two of you had bounced between your places and talked about moving in together once his lease was up. Going as far as touring a few locations but the conversation was long forgotten once the tensions started building.

As much as Carmen claims he didn’t see it coming, he resigned his lease almost two weeks before the break up officially happened.

You hop up onto the counter next to the sink and watch as Carmen gets to work restoring your pan. “Think it's gonna make it through? I can't believe this is how it might end for the poor thing. All because I wanted to make your chicken piccata.” A few of his recipes had stuck with you and sometimes you find yourself making them when you’re missing him extra at night.

“Nah, it’ll be fine. Just some surface damage s’all.” You watch as the muscles in Carmen’s arm move with the scrubbing motion, your lips itching to kiss over every exposed tattoo. Snap out of it! This is just sex between two consenting adults trying to let off some steam. That’s all. You’re both just comfortable and it would take way too much effort for someone random like Jonathan to learn what you like.

Carmen catches you staring at him, not that you were being subtle about it, and feels heat blooming in his chest. He grabs one of your kitchen towels and gives the skillet a good pat down before sitting it upside down to dry off. It’s not perfect, not yet at least, but he’s pretty sure he’ll explode if it takes any longer to finally get his hands on you.

“You look pretty tonight.” He’s coming to stand between your knees, reaching up to you with the hem of your skirt as you hum out a small “Thank you.” It seems like every time you see him lately you forget just how blue his eyes are. So easy to get lost in them especially from this close. Your hands come up to gently trace the features of his face. Just the ghost of a touch but Carmen’s soaking up the affection. He tilts his head in order to press a kiss to your palm.

His hands are dragging up your thighs, feeling the material of your tights under his touch. “Know how much you hate wearing these.” Your heartbeat is picking up so much it’s making you jittery, hands wrapping around the edge of the countertop to grip it as hard as you can. Keeping yourself steady. “Help me take ‘em off?” You arch your hips up off the counter as an invitation for Carmen. He’s wasting no time grabbing ahold of the waistband and dragging them down your body, groaning to himself as inch by inch your skin gets exposed to him.

Neither of you miss the way you press your thighs together once they’re freed, hips twitching in anticipation. The tights are getting tossed across your apartment and left to be tomorrow’s problem. Carmen falls to his knees in front of you, letting them dig into the harsh tile of your kitchen while in pursuit of making his mark on you. He’s grabbing ahold of your ankles, bringing one of your legs over his shoulder while the other is brought up to his lips.

Your eyes fall closed as Carmen starts trailing a string of delicate kisses along the length of your calf. His lips ghosting across your knee until he reaches the fleshy part of your thigh. While your hands finally escape the countertop and find their way laced into Carmen’s hair, he wraps his lips down against your thigh to start sucking a small bruise into your skin. “Carmy,” You hiss out, “What if I see Jonathan again? How am I gonna explain these?” But you’re not pulling his head away, instead doing quite the opposite by keeping his head in place.

Carmen practically growls against your skin, a low and guttural sound coming from the man. His grip on you tights while he mumbles against you, “Fuck Jonathan.” You scrub your fingers against his scalp as Carmen finds another patch of skin on the opposite thigh to begin sucking a bruise into. His head ducking lower and lower under your skirt, the material finally getting you to pull your hands away from him.

Against all better judgment your thighs fall more open as he works his way down your thighs. There’s a series of small moans and whimpers coming out of you with no control as he reaches the top of your thigh, his nose dragging along the cloth covering your core. “D’you wear these for him? Or did you put them on knowing you’d end up texting me.” It’s impossible to answer when you feel his tongue drag along you, your hips rocking up towards his mouth. He’s bringing his hands up under your skirt now too and grabbing handfuls of where your thighs meet your hips to hold you down in place.

“They’re purple, aren’t they?” A color Carmen had long ago decided he liked best on you. Something about the way the color compliments your skin… In all honesty, you were pretty sure he had purchased the exact pair you were wearing. You started the night with no intention of your date getting anywhere near your bed but instead being under the frame of the man who was exactly where you wanted him.

He guides you to scoot you closer towards the edge of the counter, making sure you’re comfortable before mouthing over you once again. Hot, open mouth kisses being pressed almost exactly where you need them. One of his hands comes around your frame to grab a handful of the fleshy part of your ass while the other hooks a finger into your underwear, pulling the material to the side to expose you.

There’s cool air being blown against your overheated body and your hands fly back to clutch at his back, his neck, the hair that’s exposed from under your skirt. Whatever inch of him you can find is being clung to like a lifeboat. He’s kissing the skin where your thigh meets your center, lips ghosting along the outer side of your folds. It only takes a few more pathetic whimpers before he finally takes pity on you and you feel his tongue go flat at the base of your hole, dragging up long and slow all the way to your clit.

He groans into your core and the vibrations make you start to lose your mind. “Fuck. Fuck!” Carmen’s got your clit between his lips now, bobbing his head just slightly while he goes right to sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves. If you didn’t want to be teased then he’d give you everything you wanted. One of his hands comes up under his chin now, a finger pressing into your tight entrance as his tongue works to lap at your clit, your folds, even dipping into you whenever his finger pulls all the way out.

A second finger slides into you while his attention focuses back to making out with your clit. You can’t keep track of the way he alternates between kissing and licking at you while his fingers push in as deep as he can get them. “So good, Baby.” Baby. It comes out of you by force of habit and it makes him twitch in his boxes. If you weren’t so drunk on him you probably would have started overthinking but he’s making sure your focus is on nothing else but his mouth for now. Carmen’s chin is slick with everything you’re giving him as he eats you out as if he’s a dying man and this is his last source of solace in the world.

“C’mon Honey.” He’s cooing against you, fingers crooked just how he knows you like it. There’s sloppy licks being delivered to your clit as his fingers pump in and out. His hand finally leaves it’s grip on your ass to apply a gentle pressure to the top of your mound, pressing down against the flesh to add yet another sensation. “Can feel how tight you’re getting. You wanna come for me so bad, don’t you? Be good for me.”

Your hands fist around Carmen’s hair, hips rocking up against him and it doesn’t take long for an orgasm to wash over your body. You seize up at the feeling, thighs clamping around Carmen’s head as he licks you through it. He’s only giving you a moment to recover when you feel his fingers slide out of your sensitive body and he can’t help but go back to licking out the mess you’ve made.

“Gonna fuckin’ kill me, Carmen.”

He’s smirking against you but taking the hint. Your thighs shaking as he pulls back from under your skirt, taking a moment to appreciate the handiwork that was the bruises covering your thighs while you take a moment to recover. The way your pussy looks so pretty covered in the mixture of your arousal and his spit. Carmen can’t help himself but to swirl his thumb around your clit, your hips jolting up as you reach out to grab ahold of his wrist. “Need a minute please.”

Carmen nods and stands up, wasting no time making work of unbuckling his belt. You collect your thoughts well enough to start unbuttoning his jeans for him, letting your fingers linger on his jean clad hardened length. “You, uh -” You won’t meet his eye, opting instead to start pulling his pants down his toned thighs. “You still okay not using a condom?” A roundabout way of saying ‘I’m clean, are you?’. Carmen nods as if it’s the most insane question in the world. Even if he’s not with you anymore, it’s still only you for him for as long as he can see coming. “No one but you.”

You can’t meet his eye, a wave of guilt washing over you concerning your earlier date with Jonanthan that quickly gets pushed away when Carmy grabs ahold of your jaw and brings you in for a haphazard kiss. Mindless, heavenly kissing. The two of you getting lost in the way your tongues know just how to navigate one another while your hand slides into his boxes and begins lazily

“Gotta fuck you or I’m gonna cum on your hand like a fuckin’ teenager.” You giggle into his mouth but slide yourself off the counter nonetheless. Giving him one more tender kiss before turning around to bend yourself over the counter. It’s not the most gracious process but you’re tugging your shirt over your head on the way down, pitching it somewhere else to deal with later.

He’s looking at every inch of you. Underwear still pulled to the side, the way the lace of your bra looks against your back. Memorizing every detail he possibly can just in case you wise up and stop letting him come over to defile you like this at night.

Carmen is dragging the head of his cock through your folds, tapping it against your clit while you whine and rut back against him. The weight of his jeans and belt resting heavy against his ankles and keeping him grounded enough to not spill his load before he even makes it inside of you. You weren’t used to taking him all the time anymore, a thought Carmen can’t dwell on, so he goes inch by inch and gives you time to adjust to the girth of him. He was thicker than anyone you’d been with before and every random hookup together lately reminds you of the first time you felt him stretch you out.

It burns in the best way possible and he’s so tender while you get adjusted. Waiting until you start fucking yourself against his length to take that as his sign you were finally ready for him. Carmen still starts slow, a teasing pace of pulling himself nearly all the way out before sinking right back in. “Pussy’s like heaven.” It makes you oddly proud to hear him call that out. To know you still have an affect on him after all this time.

“Think about fuckin’ you all the time.” He’s picking up speed now, “Think about how good you feel stretched around me. Such a good slut for me, aren’t you? Bending over and practically begging for it.” His words, once again, make your head spin. It was a common theme with Carmen. Your fingers lace in your own hair, desperate to grab ahold of something. “Always wanting you to fuck me, Carm. Dream about how good you make me feel.” Like you two were meant to fit together perfectly.

There’s a lewd clapping noise coming from the way your ass smacks against his frame with each deep thrust. Eventually your arms give out, torso falling flat against the shockingly still cool countertop while Carmen fucks into you for all he’s worth. A firm slap is being delivered to your ass that causes you to yelp out, rolling your hips back against him at the same time as an act of encouragement.

His mind is taken up with how good you feel. You’re perfectly stretched around him and leaking out around his base. So wet, so beautiful, so perfect. There’s a hand sliding up your back until it’s fisting around your hair, gently tugging at it and the new sensation has these pornstar worthy moans escaping you. Your loud and needy brain is completely empty as Carmen destroys you the way he knows how.

“D’you think about me fucking you while you were sitting across from some asshole all night? Poor little pussy almost got fucked by someone who doesn’t know how to treat it.” His words are so casually spoken with just the right amount of bite that it’s causing your brain to melt. Jonathan didn’t stand a chance of getting within two feet of your panties, just another mindless date in your series of attempted ways to ‘get over Carmen’ which clearly wasn’t going well. He bottoms out in you, every inch of his length pressed as firmly as he can into your core. It’s so much, so full and he’s got you pinned in place. Unable to do anything but be used by him, just how you both know you love to be. “Or did you go just to make me jealous? Put on your slutty little panties and went to dinner knowing you’d text me to come fuck you tonight.”

He’s grinding his hips into you on the impossible quest to get even deeper. It’s possessive, claiming, and you’d probably even be a little annoyed by his behavior if you were in a better state of mind. For now you’re bent over the counter with bruises blooming all over your thighs and enjoying an odd jealous streak coming from someone who, technically, has no right to be jealous. It’s making you feel dizzy and your heart throb and your pussy clenching around him. “You gonna keep talking or you gonna fuck me, Carm? ‘Cause if not I’ll call him to finish the job.”

You liked riling him up.

Another sharp smack is being dealt to your ass when Carmen starts to pick the pace back up. His hands are tight on your hips and his pace is brutal. There’s grunts coming from behind you that are making your head spin and if you were more coherent you’d be a bit more embarrassed about the drool sliding from the corner of your mouth as your boyfrie-….. Well, as Carmen takes care of you. He’s admiring the bloom of his handprint on your skin, brushing his hand along it before pressing firmly down to help soothe the buzzing sting of pain.

He wasn’t fucking you as often, didn’t have you nearly as well trained anymore. These bi-weekly meetings are not doing nearly enough for your body. He used to be able to fuck you right through an orgasm and you’d keep going. So used to him working your oversensitive clit to his liking. Now you whine while grabbing his wrist and whimper out pleas for him to give you a few minutes. He hates not knowing your body as well as he used to even if he still knows you pretty damn well.

So when he feels you getting closer, he’s taking note. Keeping his pace exactly the same and letting his hand crash down against the tender flesh of your ass again. “You gonna give me another? C’mon, Honey. Can feel how bad you need it.” And you do. God you need every orgasm you’re lucky enough to get from him.

Your hips buck and twitch and you let out a series of uncontrolled moans as your orgasm starts to wash over your body. If Carmen wasn’t between your legs then your thighs would have snapped shut while your toes curled and your heart started beating faster. You could practically hear it beating in your own ears. “S’good, so good. Thank you, thank you. Shit, thank you.” A mess but you couldn’t judge yourself.

Carmen’s pulling out when he’s close after just a few more strokes, frantically jerking off his length to keep the sensation going. You’re rolling your hips back and riding out the waves of your own orgasm, glancing back over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of Carmen with his head tossed back and brows knitted together in concentration. “Come on me, Baby. Wanna feel every drip on my skin. Maybe I’ll let you take a picture of it dripping down all the pretty bruises you gave me.”

That’s all it takes for him to come undone. Warm spurts of cum landing along your back, your thighs, some of it dripping down your folds. The feeling is pulling wanton moans from your mouth that send Carmen into orbit. God, he doesn’t want to come back down to Earth. Collecting his breath and trying to keep himself upright while the aftershocks of his orgasm wrack through his body. How was he supposed to stay away from you when it felt like this? Especially when you just kept calling him baby.

He stopped cumming inside of you since the breakup. It made sense, kinda. But you hated it. Felt like a waste even though you wouldn’t overstep and ask for him to go back to finishing inside of you. He would, by the way. Without a second thought he’d bury himself in until he couldn’t go any further and fuck his cum into you as deep as possible.

You feel a finger swiping up some of his cum off your backside and soon enough it’s pressed to your lips. Without a second thought you take the digit into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it while licking him clean. He wants some of it inside of you one way or another. A subtle way of still putting his claim on you.

The two of you take a moment to recover after Carmen pops his finger out of your mouth. His hands are running a circuit up and down the side of your thighs and torso, still enjoying the view of your body relaxed against the counter in front of him. The tile was starting to become painful as your stomach bent over it but you couldn’t bring yourself to move just yet. You didn’t fully trust your legs to support your weight without the counter for support.

Carmen’s rustling around behind you now. Reaching down to pull up just his boxes but kick his jeans the rest of the way off finally. He’s not ready for the stimulation of such a heavy material against his sensitive skin yet. There’s a clattering from the sink area as he retrieves another towel to get wet for you and a cup to fill with water. Your eyes feel heavy. Mind’s at ease having Carmen around again, not that you’ll admit it, and your body feeling languid after being fucked so well.

There’s a glass of water being sat in front of you. “Drink.” So you prop yourself up on your elbows and nurse small sips of the water while the cool rag gets to work wiping down your backside from the mess he made. His fingers ghost along the tender flesh of your ass where he was spanking, “Feeling alright?” You hum into the cup, giving him a small waggle of your behind to reassure any concerns he had.

He gets you cleaned up in silence, letting the both of you enjoy the simple moment. Carmen always prided himself on taking care of you. There’s warm hands, still damp from cleaning you up, rubbing up the sides of your torso before wrapping around the tops of your shoulders. His hips rub along your backside and you just feel so warm, so safe like this. “We gotta get you to bed.”

You just sigh and scrub your hands over your face. A beat of silence passes while you collect your thoughts. “Carm, I don’t think I can stand up.” Your legs are still slightly shaking and your mind has yet to catch up with your body.

Laughter’s coming from behind you as he delivers a playful swat to your ass. “C’mon I’ll get you there.” This feels so simple. You find yourself questioning why the two of you even broke up to begin with when the good moments were this good. Easy, content, safe. Would you ever be able to find this again? Would he?

He’s grabbing ahold of your waist while pulling you back into his chest. Your head falls back against his shoulder and Carmen allows his lips to once again find your exposed neck. A series of gentle kisses being placed as his arms snake tighter around your body. “Still feeling okay?” You let out a content hum and allow yourself to be held by him. “Feel better than I have all week. Thank you, Carm.” You feel him smile against your skin as he places another delicate kiss. “Always.”

The two of you stay intertwined until Carmen starts to encourage the shuffle towards your bedroom. He makes sure you get cleaned up and ready for bed. Brings you one of your sleep shirts while you brush your teeth and tries to not overthink when you offer him a toothbrush of his own because you just so happened to have an extra. Gives you privacy when you complain about needing to pee and you find it odd there’s a tug at your chest when he ducked out of the room. Part of you hated being that couple who left the door open or used the restroom while the other showered, yadda yadda. It was a sign of comfort and the door being pulled shut behind Carmen was a sign that comfort was long gone.

Not that you cared. Totally didn’t care at all.

He’s going to just tuck you in at first until you’re clutching at his frame and pulling him into bed next to you. Carmen never could say no when it came to you, especially when he feels his back sinking into your soft bed and your warm body curling up along his side. He should go. Get home before it’s too late and try to get some sleep. He’s already planning on getting to work early to avoid having too much free time to think about tonight in detail.

But his clothes feel so far away and the long day is starting to finally hit him. You can practically hear him thinking over his options and your breathing starts skipping as you feel him begin to pull away.

“Carmen.” Your grip on his chest tightens and it pulls directly at his heart. Since this whole… Situation started he never stayed the night when your meetings would run this late. Always picking his clothes up out of piles on the floor and mumbling something about needing to get home to get stuff together from work. You never asked him to stay anyway. Neither of you knew if that would make an already weird and complicated situation even worse.

But tonight was different.

There were hints of a storm in the distance you start telling yourself. If you focused you could hear thunder, somewhere, out there and you just wanted Carmen safe for his sake. That’s all. So you pathetically cling to him and hope you don’t kick yourself out of embarrassment in the morning. It takes just a moment of him looking down at you to understand what you can’t say and he’s giving you a little nod in response. His arms wrap around your shoulders, leaning in to press a kiss to the top of your head. Kissing every inch of you had to be one of his greatest pleasures in life.

“Remind me to season that skillet in the morning.”

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Carmen, shockingly, sleeps through the night. The warmth of your body next to him coupled with your excellent sleeping experience. A comfortable bed with good pillows, a white noise machine in the corner of your room (the ice maker in the fridge at Carmy’s would constantly go off so you got used to sleeping with background noise to cover it up), it was the best night of rest he’s had in months.

Your sheets smell like home.

He’s slowly waking up now and his first thought is how much he misses the weight of your breast in his hand. Second thought is how much he needs to pee but damn your bed is comfortable.

Carmen allows his body to wake up slowly. Stretching his arms out above his head and letting out a satisfied grunt at the feeling of his well rested muscles. Blinking his eyes awake just enough to take in the sight of all the trinkets and items that covered your space. There’s some things he notices that he knows for a fact he purchased you. Bottles of perfume, books you keep telling yourself you need to read, cups you constantly forget to bring back into the kitchen until you’re fully out of them.

Did you keep any of the pictures? Photo strips from Navy Pier and the holiday market at Wrigley Field. Everything from the disposable camera you brought along on road trips and vacations. The polaroids that once littered a cork board in your living room that the two of you added pictures to so often. If he looked around enough would he find them tucked away safely in a box or did you pitch them when you knew the two of you were through.

Carmen still has one. You took most of them while you packed up your things from his place and refused to let him carry any of the boxes downstairs. So stubborn, so full of hurt pride. He just spent most of the day trying to stand out of your way but always available in case you finally admitted that you needed help. Maybe a small part of him hoped that as you packed up so many memories it would trigger a ‘What are we doing?’ reaction and you’d go running into his arms.

You never did.

But you did take one trip down to your car with an overstuffed Ikea bag over your shoulder and balancing a box on your hip. Carmen knew he didn’t have long, and it kind of felt like stealing, but he rushed over to the box you just started packing up and rifles through the photos as fast as he possibly could. It took a moment of digging before there it was. A polaroid photo someone took of the two of you on New Year’s Eve. You’re wearing some cheesy headband and he has those tacky sunglasses on that show off the incoming year on them. His arms are wrapped low around your waist as he stands behind you, one of your hands resting on top of his while the other is reaching up and back to cup his jaw. You’re both grinning and laughing in the photos and nothing bad has happened yet.

He hears you shuffling back up the stairs so he’s quickly throwing the box back together after sliding the photo into his pocket and rushing back to stand in the kitchen. Acting like nothing was happening. You didn’t even look over at him so it wasn’t like he had to put up much of a show anway.

It’s still safely tucked into his wallet.

The sound of the front door opening and hushed whispers are finally pulling him from his half asleep, reflective state. It looks like this day is getting started if he wants it to or not. He’s tilting his head to press it into the pillow underneath him, allowing one last deep inhale to remind himself exactly what your scent smells like before forcing his body to be pushed out of your bed.

Carmen turns the corner in just his boxer briefs and you’re not convinced you aren’t still dreaming because fuck he looks good. His hair’s a mess from the combination of you playing with it all night and him sleeping so well. One of his hands is scratching low on his hips while he takes in the sight of you in the kitchen.

Maybe he shouldn’t be so comfortable walking around your apartment half dressed still but God is this relationship situation getting messier since the day since the two of you reconnected.

“Ordered some breakfast from Yolk. Figured you were hungry and I’m sure you have to run off this morning but I uh-…. I just wanted to make sure you were fed.” You nod to yourself. Giving him an out as you start popping open food boxes. There was just over an hour until you had to get to work too so there were multiple excuses possible for this morning to end as early as it needed to.

In an odd, roundabout, time to head back to therapy kind of way it almost feels like you’re dating your ex.

“Yeah.” He nods to himself and desperately wishes he had deodorant, cologne, fuck even Axe body spray. Something to make himself smell better or feel more presentable for you. “Richie actually tried installing fuckin’ bidets to the toilets last night. Kept on running his mouth about how prestigious they are and he, obviously, doesn’t know how to install bidets. So the bathrooms are a little-“ He waves his hands through the air.

“Shitty?”

Second questionable pun you’ve made lately. Pull it together.

There’s a breathy little laugh coming out, “Yeah, shitty.” Carmen’s peeking over your shoulder as you plate up breakfast, sneaking a piece of bacon from under your arm before pressing a kiss to the top of your ear. “Thank you for ordering this.”

You nod and try to pretend you didn’t stop breathing having him so close to you under the soft morning light.

He leaves $60 tucked under a vase on your dining table to cover breakfast.

————

11:52 am

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Richie put his foot down and we’re stuck getting the bidets

[DO NOT ANSWER]: If you’re wondering how my day is going

12:17 pm

Shockingly my day is much less toilet related. I hope it’s going well.

4:39 pm

[DO NOT ANSWER]: I know so much about bathrooms now

————

You laugh a little too loud as the alert illuminates your phone. There’s a fond tugging at your heart as the ‘normal’ conversations fills your chat history instead of the short “My place tn” or “I still can’t find my jacket. You have to have it”. Maybe saving him as do not answer seemed too harsh but having his contact show up as a photo of you two cuddled up with the Chicago skyline in the background, an innocent and horrifically cheesy “Baby Boy 💙” contact name modeled after Richie saying you baby him too much one night. Every time it flashed across your screen and Richie saw he gave you guys an endless amount of shit. It became a constant bit that none of you got tired of at the time.

You were trying to separate yourself from your past with him as much as possible at first but now those lines just keep getting more and more blurred.

One of your coworkers grabs your attention away from your phone thus leaving Carmen’s message on read. He tries to pretend it doesn’t bother him as he gets to work prepping for tonight’s service. Who wants to talk about bathrooms with their… Fuck buddy? Ex? God that’s still so weird to say.

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Your mind was haunted by thoughts of Carmen Berzatto all day.

No matter how many busy tasks you assigned yourself he always seemed to creep back in. You’d look around for him when a joke landed well at work and the group you were with erupted into laughter. Could easily picture his head thrown back as he scrubs over his face in an attempt to muffle the sound. When you were standing alone your mind wandered off to the way he treated you last night. So claiming. Expertly working your body the way only he could after so much time of getting to know it.

The bed feels so much

You throw the blanket away from your frame and watch as it bundles up beside you. Is this crazy? It feels crazy. You shake out the nerves, fluffing up your shorts and primping yourself for the photo. It takes one, two, seven pictures to get just the right angle. An image of your thighs against the bedding and your oversized sleep shorts bunched up all the way down your legs. Taking a deep breath you steel your spine and pull up Carmen’s contact.

————

11:28 pm

Headed to bed

ONE IMAGE ATTACHED

11:29 pm

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Fuck.

11:31 pm

Goodnight Carmen <3

2:12 am

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Can’t stop thinking about you

ONE VIDEO ATTACHED

————

The sun is warm against your skin as it slowly wakes you up. There’s an air purifier rattling in the corner that acts half as white noise while you sleep, half to soak up the smells of Chicago. Sometimes when Carmen’s especially exhausted you have to bring out the big boy and ask your Google home to play sleep sounds to mask him snoring all night. You typically didn’t mind the sound, knowing it’s a sign of just how badly he needed a good night’s rest.

You’re fishing your phone out of the comforter in a haste to click off the horrific sound of the alarm and your eyes are barely open when you see the alert. A preview image popping up and you can just barely a blurry image of - “Holy fuck!”

Your free hand flies up to clamp over your mouth as a mix of gasps and ‘no fucking way’ come out of you with zero control. With shaking hands you open up the video, half tempted to pinch yourself with a video of Carmen fills your screen. His hand rubbing over the bulge in his boxers and there’s a mess of shaky breathing coming from behind the phone. You can’t get the volume turned all the way up fast enough and you’re terrified to miss a single sound.

And there he is.

Fishing his cock out of his boxers and stroking himself for you. Illuminated by the lamp on his bedside table and his hand over lubricated to mimic how wet you get for him. He’s a mess of filthy moans, bucking hips, are you dreaming?

The combination of the sun beating in and the way this video is making your body go hot is too much. You’re overheating, kicking the blankets away from you while your hand goes into your shorts on instinct. Toying with your clit even though you don’t have much time to spare as you watch Carmen get off for you.

————

8:04 am

HEART REACTED TO A VIDEO

Mine tonight?

Fuck you sound so good

Wish I would have been there to clean you up

Say my name more next time please

How am I supposed to go to work now

————

No response. You aren’t surprised, he’s typically busy in the morning.

So you go along your day and let yourself enjoy the thought of Carmen coming back over tonight to take care of you. You had thought letting him back in was a risky move but things seemed fine so far. Settling into the new version of what normal was going to look like. Maybe things would end up being some version of alright after all.

A chirp from your phone catches your attention and you’re instantly uninvested in whatever task was at hand. It might be a little pathetic how excited you were but that is besides the point.

————

10:32 am

[CARMEN]: Busy tonight

————

Busy tonight? Go fuck yourself Carmen!

You waited all morning and THAT’S the response you get? Were the multiple texts too much? Did you come off too clingy? Sure he just stayed the night, was two times in one week where he drew the line?

So you leave him on read and take away the heart from his video. Change his name back to DO NOT ANSWER and instantly feel the urge to get off tonight leaving your body. Replaced by a subtle anger that only he can bring out of you.

The workday seems to go by so much quicker as you have this internal argument with yourself and mentally pick a battle with Carmen. Maybe you were silly to think things would… What? Go back to the way they were? No, of course not.

Ugh!

Carmen who, by the way, truly was slammed. Got stuck hosting an event for an old family friend that he barely knew but was convinced it’d be good for business. He’s overwhelmed by work and anxious with his relationship with you. The breakup was horrific. One of the worst things he’s had to experience so far which certainly says a lot. At the very least - It made sense. This though? Sleeping together, fucking when you have shitty dates and he’s your second choice for the night, taking pictures of dumb things he sees during the day because it made him think of you but never actually sending them, it made zero sense.

If only there was something the two of you could do to figure this whole mess out.

But alas.

You bring home a salad that’s far healthier than anything you’ve eaten all week accompanied by some fresh pressed green juice nonsense you lie to yourself and mentally say is delicious. The boy detox starts now.

The shower you take that night must last an hour. Every inch of your body gets scrubbed, your face and hair both get a mixture of treatments and masks. You primp and polish yourself up and convince yourself that this is all for you and not so you look better than ever and Carmen will have to regret his stupid and shitty ‘Busy tonight’ text because you were also just like so, so busy and -

Fuck Carmen Berzatto.

You decide you could go the rest of your life without hearing from him and be just fine. It was his loss. You’re funny, beautiful, and excellent in the bedroom. There’s thousands of people out there dreaming about finding someone like you!

This internal argument keeps going. And you know what’s annoying? The second you fling yourself into bed you realize he left his scent all over your sheets still. It hasn’t gone away - Cologne mixed with Carmen. And you 100% aren’t hunting out the scent nor are you hunting out a reason to stay annoyed with him. Not at all. So you get back out of bed and grab the fabric freshener to spray your sheets back down with, giving it a minute to dry before falling face first into the mattress with an annoyed huff.

So yeah, fuck him. You hope you never hear from him again and toss your phone on the other side of the bed. Forcing your eyes shut and making your mind go blank because otherwise you’ll stew all night thus continuing this Carmen induced spiral.

————

1:47 am

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Hey

————

Fuck.

#♡: c.b.#carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #the bear #the bear fic #the bear smut #carmy x reader #carmy smut #carmy the bear #carmy bearzatto x you

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yourmidnightlover · 3 months

Text

the story

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x reader

w/c: 3.5k+

summary: the weeks following bucky ordering that steve be your bodyguard, followed by an insightful night at a gala with your beloved husband.

warnings: mention of the incident with john (groping), slight threats of violence, mention of fear, lip on lip action (the upstairs ones), if i've missed anything please let me know!!

a/n: hiii! the third installment of my forever? series! i didn't even intend for this to be more than one part, but you guys have inspired me to write more for it! my writing schedule is a bit off since i recently started a new job, but i'll try to be a bit consistent with it. i hope you guys enjoy this next part, more to come!

part 2 -> control

the first few weeks with steve as a bodyguard wasn’t too bad. he was actually kinda funny in a grandpa kinda way, and he was an amazing listener. you had bounced a few ideas for your book off of him and he seemed to be very intrigued by some of the plot points you had planned. he even promised to be one of the first customers, right behind bucky (which you may have rolled your eyes at), of course, as long as he was promised a signed copy.

but, at the two month mark you began to miss your independence. of course, the chef bucky had hired was amazing and had years of experience in italian cuisine, but sometimes a girl just wanted some greasy smash burger to chow down on. most nights you ate alone with steve until bucky walked through the front door.

he always seemed beaten down and tired, as though work was more straining than usual. he would shrug his jacket off, place it on the hook by the door, then his shoes on the rack, and walk upstairs to shower before coming downstairs to eat as you and steve were finishing your plates. you tried your best to start conversation, to be the best company you could but eventually the silence always grew awkward and steve would usher you to go upstairs to your room with a pressed smile.

after two months of not really needing to show you off i any way, there was an important gala for him to attend. of course, that means that you were to be his beloved arm candy for the night.

“buck sent me the address for a local boutique that he thinks would be right up your alley,” steve read from his phone as you took a stroll in the garden that was full of beautiful colors. “the appointment is at 3:45, so we have plenty of time to get ready and head there too. oh and he says you should get something in that one shade of green… i’m assuming you know what that is?” his brows raise in confusion, as your mirror his in a stunned expression.

“surprisingly, i do know what he means for once.” about six weeks before the wedding, you had spent an all nighter with him amidst all of the chaotic planning.

“accent colors are super important! right now, all we have is an off white color, and while it’s a good color, i don’t want my wedding to wash everyone out that much,” you shoved his side as you sprawled your binders out on the coffee table.

“i say… green,” he says after pondering for a minute.

“green… like tree green?” you chuckled at the notion.

“i mean the green that’s light yet earthy, not too dark but not scream-in-your-face bright. it’s beautiful. plus, i think you’d look stunning in it,” he shrugs casually as if he hadn’t described a mundane color in such an alluring way.

“so a sage green?”

“maybe more on the jade green side,” he tried to hide a smile as his thumb began to mindly trace nonsense on your thigh.

there was such elegance in the way he described the simple color, as if saying light green wouldn’t have sufficed. clearly, there was a significance to the mundane shade that he felt the need to recommend it.

but you knew not to ask anything further to pry, doubting his readiness to comply so easily so early in your relationship. while it was during the happiest days of your relationship, you still knew he held you at arms length.

at the appointment, you had found several dresses in the perfect color, but only one stood out to you after trying them on. steve was also a good guide in ensuring you were choosing the right one, although you’re sure he would just say every dress looked good regardless.

growing up, you’d read about a love that was so encapsulating that one would rather face death than be without their lover. you’d yearned for that kind of love. the kind of love that was consuming and irreversible. the kind of love where your partner wouldn’t love you in spite of your flaws, but because of them.

and now you were married to a man who didn’t seem to feel an ounce of that towards you. sure, the months leading up to your wedding made it seem otherwise. it made you hopeful that he could maybe grow to love you, as you could grow to love him.

because truthfully, it was hard to see many flaws in the man, other than those that were rumored in the tabloids. you’d read or heard of his anger issues and his lack of patience but abundance of irritability. yet all you’d observed is his laughter, his diligence and compassion.

it was definitely confusing to want to believe these two contradicting tales of composure, but ultimately seeing is believing. you’d decided to believe whatever he showed you, what was right in front of his face rather than believe whatever was whispered in your ear. besides, if something was worth believing it should be said with their full chest rather than in such a low tone.

“almost ready?” bucky’s low voice rang through the door as you were doing finishing touches on your hair, making sure you looked as presentable as possible.

“i just have to put the dress on, and i’ll be ready to go!” you replied, unzipping the bag that the dress came in, even though you suggested that doing so was overkill.

“let me know if you need any help.” you heard a thud from the other side that suggested that he was leaning against the door, waiting to hear if you did happen to need any assistance.

you replied in silence, just stepping into the dress and lifting the straps over your shoulders. it was such a beautifully made gown, truly. it hugged you in the most flattering places, accentuating just the right amount without flaunting too much. the material felt like a warm hug from a lifelong friend, you almost never wanted to take it off.

the only downside was the damn zipper. it was a bit rough to pull over your hips alone, but once you reached your mid back it seemed to reach a snagging stop. you twisted your arms every way possible, trying to avoid the totally cliche scene of calling him in to zip you up.

alas, the universe had other plans for you. although, how much could you complain when that would mean his rough, yet gentle hands would be against your skin…

“...bucky?” your voice meekly called out, trying to interrupt your own thoughts from spiralling down the path you wanted them to so bad.

“yea?” his voice piped up, seeming to jump an octave or two in the process. maybe you jst startled him.

“could you maybe help me zip this thing up?” you became quiet before the twisting of your doorknob broke the silence. “my arms can’t quite contort the way they need to in order to zip this all the way…” you refused to meet his eyes as he trailed inside the room.

the first sign of his presence was his hands grasping your shoulders, lightly tracing down your arms. then he leaned down to press a kiss to your bare shoulder, more affectionate than he’d been the entire duration of your marriage without it being prompted.

“you look beautiful,” he pressed another kiss to your other shoulder before letting his hands fall to a respectable place on your waist, stepping back to seemingly find where the zipper got stuck. “but what’s new, right?”

you chuckled at the compliment.

“what’ve you been doing recently?” you asked meekly. “i haven’t seen you much at all since steve started his new gig as my babysitter.”

he sighed, stopping his antics to clarify what he felt he needed to. “he’s not a babysitter. he’s my best friend, and the only person i trust to look after the woman that i-the woman that i married, okay?” you felt his deep breathing on your neck before he continued, “i don’t know where john is yet. john is notorious for taking whatever he thinks is his and that night he made it very clear what he believed.” he turned you around to face him, the dress’ zipper be damned. “if anything happens to you… just the thought keeps me up at night. i need you to understand,” his voice was desperate, pleading almost.

you understood what he was saying. at least, you were pretty sure you did. men in positions of power like bucky typically saw the people around them as pawns. part of you thinks that he’s saying all of this as the controlling, possessive boss man bucky. and that’s the large part of you. but the small part of you, the part of you that still believes in that fairytale love you used to read about, believes that maybe he’s saying all of this because he does feel something for you… something real.

but that part of you is like… 15 percent. maybe 20…

“i understand,” you nodded, meeting his eyes and seeing desperation, fear. seeing fear radiating from a man that projects a version of himself that’s fearless is a scary thing.

“good,” he nodded, his eye contact faltering to the dress that clung to your body. “you look indescribable, i’m a lucky man to call you mine.” once again, he grasped your shoulders to turn you around.

this time, he promptly found the zipper, his metal hand tracing nonsensical patterns on your shoulder as he zipped the dress with his flesh one.

“all done,” he pressed a lingering kiss to your right shoulder. “my beautiful bride.” you wanted to believe him.

“thank you,” you took a deep breath as you turned to face him. “so, tonight… what should i be expecting?” “well, there are a few people i’ll introduce you to, and a few i have to talk to. but i’ll be with you the whole time,” he pressed his hands into his pockets. “i scheduled a car to take us, and we have about 10 minutes before it should get here.”

“so we’ll be playing the roles of loving wife and doting husband?” you nudged his shoulder before you went to grab your shoes.

“playing? this is all real, sweetheart,” he took the shoes from your hands, promptly dropping to his knees.

“what are you-”

“i’m putting your shoes on, my love.” you chuckled before he guided your hand to his shoulder. “gonna want to hold on.” he picked up one of your legs by your calf, grabbing the correct shoe before slowly placing your foot inside and doing the same for your other shoe.

meanwhile, you were stuck staring down at him like a lovesick idiot. this behemoth of a man was beneath you treating you like a princess by putting your heels on for you. what the hell kind of alternate universe have you entered and how can you never leave?

“well, aren’t you a romantic?” you cleared your throat as he remained on his knees, a sight you could get used to.

“don’t let the news spread around town,” he chuckled as he let your remaining foot hit the ground but not without pressing a kiss to your ankle. “i can’t have others knowing how enamored i am by you, can we?” “enamored?” you chuckled out. “what a word,” you shook your head as you helped him to his feet.

“the perfect word.” he trailed his hand to a loose strand of hair, twirling it around his flesh fingers before he sighed, “the car should be here soon. we should head downstairs for it.”

it was a 45 minute ride there. you sat in a respectable silence, this time it wasn’t as awkward as it has been in the past. upon arrival, the door was swiftly opened for you, bucky getting out first and then offering his hand to help you step out. the first thirty minutes of the gala went very similarly. he would introduce you to a new face or say ‘hello’ to a familiar one, wrap his arm snugly around your waist before pressing a kiss to your cheek and move on to the next person.

for a bunch of folks in banking and finance, everything seemed very high stakes. there seemed to be walls up all around you, from each man and woman you said a brief hello to or were meeting for the first time. everyone had decided to adorn a mask for the night, or maybe the mask was a semi-permanent fixture. maybe they’d worn the mask for so long they forgot how to function without one. you hoped you wouldn’t face the same fate.

to be doomed to fake face for so long that you no longer remember what was once real. you wanted something real, even if what you and bucky had was technically fake when you were in public. something about what happened behind closed doors when nobody was around gave you the illusion that part of it was real.

“have i told you how ravishing you look tonight?” bucky held you close as you swayed to the soft melody. his metal hand was clutching your waist, his flesh hand holding your own.

“i think in different words, yes,” you both began to laugh at his flattery. “you don’t have to keep doing that, y’know? the compliments and everything… i think people get the idea that this is real by now.”

“you don’t get it, do you?” he shook his head before he moved his vibranium hand to your chin, nudging it up for you to meet his eyes.

“get what?”

“buck,” steve’s voice interrupted your dance, but that didn’t stop bucky from pulling you taut to his side.

steve leaned in to whisper in his ear, but you were able to tell by his stone cold expression that whatever message that was being relayed to him wasn’t as delightful as the desserts from tonight.

“when?” you barely registered bucky’s low voice over the music.

steve went back to whispering in his ear and it wasn’t until he pulled back that you wanted to speak up, “what’s going on?”

bucky looked down to you, and when you looked into his eyes, what you saw was very similar to your earlier conversation with him. this time, however, there seemed to be anger buried beneath the stoic traces of fear. that’s when it clicked.

“did they find him?” his jaw clenched and unclenched.

“you told her about-”

“i told her what she deserves to know,” bucky interrupted steve’s accusatory tone. “you don’t get to question me or the decisions i make, especially not when those decisions are in regards to my wife.”

you weren’t sure if bucky was defending you or himself with the way he jumped on steve’s gears.

“okay, got it,” steve rse his hands in defense before he nodded.

“what steve was telling me was in regards to him, yes,” bucky clarified. “but it’s nothing important for you to need to know. you don’t have to worry about it, my love,” he let his flesh hand play with that same strand of hair as earlier as he looked down at you like his prized possession.

oh yea, you almost forgot. that’s what you are to him. his trophy wife, as much as you hate that phrase.

“when can we go home?” a shiver ran down your spine. what would john even do if he did get his hands on you? was he actually as bad as bucky made him seem, or was he worse? you gripped bucky’s arm tighter as thoughts raced through your brain.

“hey,” he turned to face you again, his eyes no longer reflecting anger or fear but tenderness. “if you want to leave, we’ll leave. steve can get the car,” he turned briefly to steve who nodded before walking off, “we can talk on the way home. i can tell how many questions are running through that pretty head of yours right now. but i can assure you,” he cupped your face in his hands, and the contrast between the cold metal and the warm flesh was oddly grounding, “as long as your with me, or steve for that matter, you won’t have anything to worry about. i would do anything it takes to keep you safe.”

you nodded, pressing your lips together in a fine line, maybe a bit of doubt running in your head at the lengths he would go to in order to protect you. would he really go to the lengths necessary? would his hand be forced to do that?

“how bad would it be if i admitted that i was scared right now?” you couldn’t meet his eyes as you admitted it.

“it’s not bad at all. in fact, i understand. i just hope that you know that this is why steve is watching out for you now,” he dropped his hands to your shoulders, down your arms to hold your hands.

“will you-would you be up for staying with me tonight?” you popped the question, almost scared of his answer. “like… like you did that night? i don’t really want to be alone tonight.”

“you don’t have to explain,” he smiled. “of course i’ll stay with you.”

the ride home was similar to the ride there, but this time with your head rested on his chest, his arms wrapped snugly around you. you’re sure he thought you were asleep when he pressed a kiss to your forehead. it also wasn’t beneath you to say you liked when he did it…

so much so that you apparently did fall sleep. when you woke up, it was wrapped in strong arms. you strained your neck to look at the clock beside your bed, the one that read 2:35 am. turning in bed to look at bucky, you realized you’d never seen him so peaceful. his hair had grown out a bit long, evident by the way it laid across his forehead.

when you moved the few locks of hair from his forehead, he began to stir awake.

“shhh,” you hummed softly. “it’s just me. sorry i woke you.”

“don’t be sorry,” his raspy voice was alluring this early in the morning, or was it late? “i don’t think i’ve slept this good since… well, since that night.”

“are you a secret cuddler, mr. barnes?” you smiled as he pulled you in a smidge tighter as he replied.

“and what if i am?” “there are no complaints coming from me,” he pressed yet another kiss to yourforehead, then your cheek, your other cheek, and then you pulled back to look in his eyes again.

the only light that was peaking through was from the hallway underneath the door, but that didn’t stop you from being able to see the bright smile decorating his face, a rare sight to see.

“how bad would it be if i admitted that i really wanted to kiss you right now?” his thumb trailed across your bottom lip, gently pulling it down and watching it bounce back into place.

“it’s not bad at all,” you let your eyes find his lips before looking into his eyes once more.

he made the first move, taking his flesh hand and cupping your face before he softly met your lips with his. every other kiss you’d had with him had been for show, cameras or people around to witness and aww at the romantic antics of the newlyweds. this one wasn’t for show. this was purely authentic. gentle, soft, delicate. for a man like bucky, you figured he wasn’t like this very often. this was a side of him not many other people got the privilege of witnessing.

he was precise in his movements, every swipe of his tongue and every placement his hand made was deliberate, yet he was so tender. the soft grasp of your hair, the easy glide of his hand that began to hold your waist. it was all so consuming, in the best way possible. in the way that you wanted to drown in his presence.

when you sweeped one of your legs over his, now perched on his lap, you felt him smile against your lips.

“you’re astounding,” he breathed into you. “breathtaking,” he rearranged his hips, accidentally brushing his hardon against your center. “shit.”

“sorry,” you smiled against him as you pulled back, resting your forehead against his.

“nothin’ to apologize for,” he shook his head with a laugh. “i mean, you are my wife an’ all.”

“i know, but,” taking a deep breath, you tried to figure out how to word what you wanted to say to him. you came up with nothing. “i don’ know. it’s different. we haven’t necessarily been the most affectionate since our wedding.”

“i didn’t think you wanted anything more,” his face shone with disbelief. “i didn’t want you to think you were forced to be ‘affectionate’ with me. you didn’t really want to marry me in the first place. i realize that.”

were you not this puppet in his master show? some play thing for him to own and display whenever he pleased? had every story you’d heard about him been nothing but that… just stories? could this story of you and him have a happy ending?

tags:

@blackbirdwitch22

@onceithough

@learisa

@mrsnikstan

@cjand10

@mrs-bucky-barnes-73

@armystay89

@adesum

@greatenthusiasttidalwave

@loki-laufeyson68

if you'd like to be added to the tag list, please just leave a comment or message me!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #james bucky barnes #marvel #bucky barnes smut #sargeant barnes #sargeant bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob bucky barnes #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky au #mafia!bucky #mafia!bucky barnes x reader

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