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naffeclipse · 4 months ago

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Little Chicks

Penguin!Reader x Orca!Eclipse

Commission Info

I'm so excited to share this fic! The lovely @pluck-heartstrings requested a continuation of Cardinal Instincts with a mix of fluff and typical Orca Eclipse with some angst/backstory for the harpy reader! I also enjoy writing baby sirens Sun and Moon as well <3

Content Warning for mentions of death and angst.

———

Tiny flukes flip along the ocean’s surface. You watch the siren young closely, perched on the edge of the ice with your winged arms folded tightly against you. Though you’ve grown used to how the orca siren tests the babes’ abilities, your heart flutters nonetheless whenever one sinks a little too deep below the surface without acquiring a deep enough breath and you must swallow back a squawk of fear when the other gives anxious, tired chirps after swimming for a moment too long.

But Eclipse is there, scooping the little ones into his hands, and if they refuse to calm, he presses them into your lap and allows the familiar, comforting touch of your plumage to soothe them.

Your siren young, you remember. Emotion thickens in your throat as Sun flips his tail, flashing cream and golden colors. The orca siren child struggles across the shallow water in the half-submerged alcove. Moon’s teeth gnash together as he whines. Eclipse chirrs gently, encouraging the children as if they were of his own blood. It still surprises you that they are not, with their eyes each containing at least one yellow or scarlet hue. The brothers share a blue color to their gaze, however, and confirm that they are twins.

The icy alcove sheltering them from the harsher, direct light outside is comfortable. Though it’s far from your natural habitat of flat icy plains with plenty of diving holes into the water, you’ve dared to settle into this home.

Eclipse courts you still, and though you both share the work of caring for the siren young, he makes it clear with a flash of his hungry eyes that you are the only mate for him. The only one who will raise Sun and Moon with him.

You watch him now, while the boys occupy his attention. His sleek, black and white form dipped in deep red and dark orange is lethal in every capacity. He is the apex predator of the seas. His body is lithe with toned, sleek muscle. His jaws split wide into a maw full of shark-like teeth. Yet, his claws curl carefully over Moon while he lifts him back to the surface, and the soft sounds of the babe’s sputtering pull your muscles taut, insisting you dive after the babe.

An instinct within understands how easily Eclipse’s natural weapons can turn on you, could rip you apart to feed his young, but then Sun is squeaking in anger. Eclipse turns to him quickly. He rumbles a soothing hum while holding Moon in the crook of his arm and gathering Sun in his other hand. His gentleness is always at the ready for his adoptive children. Your heart softens.

The siren lifts his eyes to you. In the light that refracts from the ocean surface and icy walls, his gaze glows brighter, hungrier. A shiver falls down your spine. How naturally your body remembers your place in the food chain. He closes the distance. His dorsal fin arches high behind him while strong, smooth motions of his tail push him until he’s looming over you on the shelf of ice you reside on.

A pulse starts in your throat. You gaze up at him, small and easily devoured, but he leans closer to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. The thick feathers covering your body ruffle under his persistent touch. A soft squawk escapes your mouth at the graze of his teeth over your sensitive, vulnerable throat.

“Sun and Moon must be getting hungry,” you breathe, fighting the heat that longs to stain your fluffy cheeks.

“They’ve worked up an appetite,” he agrees over the sharp squeaks and chirps of their demands. “They’re getting stronger.”

And hungrier, you note. Eclipse has been a provider, killing and retrieving meals of squid and other soft meat for the boys to tear apart with their nubby teeth. Eclipse explained to you once that these milk teeth will fall out once the boys have grown enough and will be replaced by sharper, more capable incisors.

It might have scared other harpies like yourself to know these children who depend on you for food and warmth will soon become as capable and dangerous as Eclipse, but only a swell of pride fills you with the thought. They will become strong. They will thrive and no one will ever harm them. A gentle need to watch them flourish propels you to open your arms.

“When will you hunt for food?” you ask softly. Your dainty clawed fingers brush gently against the squirming, wet forms of Sun and Moon held in the crook of Eclipse’s arms.

A low grumble, deep and chilling, rolls through the orca siren and into you. You still when this jaws nears your lips. The press of his forceful kiss pushes you back slightly, and you give an indignant squeak under his mouth, tasting you like he may or may not sample the flesh hidden under your feathers.

“I’ll go now, birdie,” he murmurs. “I won’t keep Sun and Moon hungry. Wait here for me.”

He draws back to capture your gaze with his own. The intensity of his eyes, one red, one yellow, pierces you with the strength of the sun. A desire to look away, to shrink from underneath his power nearly takes you, but he growls softly.

“Be good, birdie.”

“I will,” you answer, then immediately flush.

He nods smugly then presses a kiss to your cheek. You close your eyes though you are no less attuned to the sharp squeaks of protest of being slightly squashed between yours and his exchanges of fondness.

“Eclipse,” you mumble against his mouth, “The babies.”

A chortle escapes from his wicked jaws as he parts from you. At least, he eases Moon then Sun into your arms. The most natural embrace overtakes you as you cradle the precious siren young, though they are steadily growing, becoming just a little bigger for your arms than a regular chick might have been. It doesn’t matter to you. They are slick, warm, and safe.

Sun chirps soften into babbling chatter, his wide eyes beautiful and bright. On your other arm, Moon turns against your chest. His little nubby fingers grasp your feathers, clenching and unclenching, as his mouth roams for milk he will not find here.

“It’s alright, little chicks,” you coo at your children. “Your bellies will be filled shortly.”

You spare a glance at Eclipse, prodding him with a look but he lingers on the edge of the ice shelf. You lift your head, curious.

“They’re hungry,” you remind.

“I know, birdie.” His gaze slips into something like snowmelt as if he finds you simply adorable. “You’re beautiful. I simply had to admire how you take care of them.”

Your mouth opens but silence tumbles out.

He flashes a wicked grin to your dismay. Pushing off of the ice shelf, the orca siren dives out of the alcove and leaves you simmering with pink heat. Your words fail on your tongue, but there is little you can say to the orca siren who has decided to make you his.

You are unable to resist sinking softly in the after waves of his boldness and courting gestures. A small pile of beautiful stones and gems has piled in the far corner of the ice shelf. Tokens of his love. Each beautiful pebble made you believe he couldn’t find a better one, and each time, he has proven you wrong.

Pebbles are for building nests for a chick. To accept a pebble is to build towards a future, to prepare for the young that will come once two penguin harpies agree to be mates.

You press the memory of a small nest and a tiny, new life away from your thoughts. A nibble along your fingers draws your attention. Gazing down at Moon gnawing his nubby teeth along your hand, you smile. You gently free your fingers and stroke his head, sliding along the deep midnight blue appendage that falls down his head. The small bulb at the end is frilly and yellow.

“Oh, my darling,” you murmur in a soft voice. You slip back along the ice shelf, waddling carefully to not slip with the babes in your arms before gently rearranging them to rest in your lap. Wrapping your winged arms around them, they will stay warm.

A sharp squeak turns your head towards Sun. Hunger rips through him loud and clear. You laugh gently as he begins wiggling, impatiently and restlessly. His sharp, golden, and white gold fins crowning his head twist importantly with the jerks of his head.

“I know, my love, I know,” you softly cup his cheek and pull him closer to your chest, holding him to keep him from slipping away. “Your father is getting you squid. Patience, Sun.”

The high-pitched demanding chirp that falls from him squeezes your heart. He is far too loud, too excited, and you laugh. Softly taking Moon against you as well, you lean back against the alcove wall and try to hum. They adore when Eclipse sings to them, but his vocal cords are powerful and entwined with magic. Yours are too strained and, in a word, unfit for a lullaby. The best you can give them is your warmth and protection.

Your adoptive children.

Your mind drifts to a distant echo of sharp chirps. Insistent, hungry, and then, silent.

A slow collapse shuts away your throat. Your hum cuts short.

The memory takes you like an ocean wave, pushing you down, deeper and deeper until you can no longer breathe.

Your chick was so small. He was beautiful. He chirped fiercely. Then he did not make a sound at all.

Shoulders heaving, your breath becomes ragged. It scrapes out of your throat. Your chest tightens. Tiny bodies squirm in your arms, little fingers sinking into your plumage and grip tightly, demanding attention, but your vision is far, far away, lost on an empty ice plain dusted in snow.

You held your little chick in your arms. He didn’t move. Your mate told you to let him go.

You couldn’t. You didn’t, not until your mate pried him from your hands and forced you to leave him, to let the snow bury him and the ice creep over him until he was cradled in the Antarctic cold forever. He has to be warm. You were keeping him warm.

What did you do wrong?

No one answered.

A splash echoes in the distance. Wiggling bodies attempt to crawl away from you, eager chirps filling the air, but your vision is blurred over ice and water. A deep, abysmal voice calls out. You don’t answer.

You hold tighter to Sun and Moon, clinging to them. Their tiny voices grow louder as they fill with hunger.

Another wash of water echoes throughout the alcove, and then a shadow looms over you. Something wet splats just a few inches onto the ice shelf. Then, a low rumble and claws crack the ice, dragging over the uneven terrain.

A hand falls on your shoulder. Claws threaten to sink into your flesh.

“Birdie, what’s wrong?”

A gasp wretches from you. You blink, staring up at the looming orca siren. His eyes blaze, searching for threats and wounds, but only finding you unlocking your fierce grip from Sun and Moon. The babies gleefully slip away from you. Their wiggling tails flip and flap, and Eclipse watches them carefully before pinning you with his stare again.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” he demands, growling with an abysmal darkness.

“No,” you gasp, “No, the babies—they need to eat.”

Eclipse hovers. When did he pull himself onto the ice? His tail sweeps along the cold terrain, his flukes curling to form a barrier between you and the water. You want to shrink. You want to bow your head and swim away—it wouldn’t be so different from when the colony decided you couldn’t stay any longer.

A mush pile of chomped squid lies near Eclipse’s side fin. The siren young cry out. Slowly, Eclipse takes Moon, then Sun, setting them down by the food so they can begin tearing the soft flesh apart in their young moths. Securing them in the bow of his tail, he turns back to you.

“Birdie, tell me what is going on. I will make it right.” His clawed hands cup your face. You want to fall back, push him away until you can escape.

You can’t leave. Even wandering, you were trapped with what you’ve done.

Fear and shame form into a fine, frozen layer within you. You can’t look at Eclipse. His hand insists, pushing you by the chin until you're locked under his gaze again.

“Be good, birdie. Tell me so I might rip apart whatever is causing you such pain,” he insists, snarling just under his breath. You tremble and touch his arm.

“I,” you gasp and it wheezes through you. Your throat closes up. You look once to Sun and Moon devouring their meal, unaware of their harpy parent dissolving into sea foam. “I was driven from my colony.”

Something snaps within you. A great and terrible acceptance. A truth so ugly and rotten, you have no hope of holding its broken bones.

Eclipse’s jaw slackens. Teeth no longer bared, he slowly tilts his head.

“Why?” his eyes narrow.

He’ll know now you are unfit. He won’t have you raising his babies. You won’t hold Sun and Moon again.

You close your eyes and whisper, “I tried to steal another’s chick.”

Eclipse’s thumb slowly brushes along the fluff covering your cheek.

“Go on,” he says in a shockingly gentle and low voice, as if you needed a lullaby in the dark of night, “Tell me, birdie. It’s alright.”

You quake. Opening your eyes slowly, you are filled with Eclipse’s soft gaze. His attention is fierce, ever sharp, but when he holds you, everything else falls to the wayside.

A rattling breath fills your lungs.

“My baby,” your voice cracks. Eclipse’s gaze widens. “My poor baby died. He was so small… I don’t know why.”

“Such things can happen,” he says so firmly, you long to believe him, “It’s not kind, but little ones simply don’t endure by no fault of their own nor yours.”

“Eclipse, wait,” you grasp onto him tighter. He is your last island in the sea of your grief. He doesn’t understand.

“What of your mate?” he asks instead, his teeth glint.

“He left me,” you say quietly. A fact you have accepted long ago. Whenever you looked at him, you only felt the same grief again. “After my—our chick died, he left.”

Eclipse dips his head in the slightest, not exactly pleased, but reassured, in some way. You don’t know what to make of his expression.

“Then what became of you?” he asks in his growling cords.

You quake.

“I don’t know why I did it. I just couldn’t stand it. Everyone with their chicks, hearing their little cries. I was alone,” you pull in a breathless gasp, “I didn’t stop myself. One little chick was unattended, for just a moment. Her mother was looking away. I wasn’t thinking at all. I just did it—I swooped in and stole the babe.”

Eclipse rumbles deep within his chest. You glance anxiously at Sun and Moon. Sounds escape Sun even as he chews vigorously. Moon is quiet, slurping down a tentacle. Eclipse draws a black-bone claw down your cheek, returning your attention to him.

“What happened?” he asks softly.

“I tried to feed her, but she refused to take any food from my mouth.” A strained sound, like a sob, escapes your throat. Eclipse hushes you softly, stroking the back of your feathered head. “She was crying—I told her I was her momma but she wouldn’t stop.”

The tiny babe was not your own, though just as small and hungry and fierce. The chirps were just a little off. They weren’t your babe’s.

Your heart twists. How could you ever have your little chick back? How could you try and replace one by taking from another? You were selfish and mad. You were trying to force another mother to go through what you just had.

“She wasn’t yours,” Eclipse answers simply, as if he might understand wanting something so terribly, and doing awful things to have it, but not being able to keep it.

You hold his gaze, wetness blurring your vision.

“It was cruel of me.” You shudder again. “They caught me. The colony decided I could no longer be a part of them. They sent me away. I could never return.”

Eclipse is silent for several heartbeats. You sit, heavy with shame and grief. His flukes brush against the little ones eating. A small complaint of being bothered during their meal rises in a sharp squeak. You glance over them, wishing to pull Sun and Moon into your arms again. What if you can never hold them again?

“That’s why you were waddling alone.” Eclipse sweeps a claw down your temple, almost touching your eye. Your eyelids flutter, and a great fear takes over you. Does he not want you anymore? Has he decided you will make a better meal than a parent?

“I still don’t know why I did it,” you mumble. You felt mad. You still feel unstable with loss and emptiness. You could only take and take to try and fill up the gaping place left within you. The baby you love so dearly was gone without a whimper.

And now two little sirens need your care. They are so beautiful and precious. Your heart bobs within you for longing to tend to them.

“You wanted your child back,” Eclipse hums. Your eyes lift to him, stained with tears. “You love your child. Now you have two little ones who need you. And you have been a beautiful mother to them.”

Stunned into silence, you blink. “You… you still want me?”

Eclipse chortles, looking at you as if you were simply precious.

“I have already chosen you as my mate. I have witnessed how tenderly you tend to Sun and Moon. I will have no one else but you, birdie.” He leans in and kisses your tear-wet cheeks. Your feathers ruffle underneath his affection. “Breathe, and when you are ready, you will hold our children again.”

Our children.

You cling tightly to Eclipse for one moment. His eyes widen. Leaning up, you lay a kiss on the corner of his mouth and smear salty tears on his maw unwittingly. You hope he doesn’t mind. All the while, he holds very, very still.

“They’re my little chicks,” you whisper.

“They are,” he rasps softly. Eclipse holds you until the Sun and Moon finish eating. Their cries of attention are answered as the orca siren scoops them up, one by one, and places them in your arms.

Your family.

#naff's writing commissions #cardinal instincts #apex polarity #orca!eclipse #penguin!reader #baby sirens #orca!sun #orca!moon #ohhh i loved writing about Y/N's back story #it's a good thing momma has Eclipse <3 #naff writing

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finniestoncrane · 3 months ago

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If I could request Reevesverse penguin with an absolutely needy as fuck reader. Like they’ve already cum like 3 times but they are BEGGING FOR MORE 🙏🙏🙏

Please and thank you! Your writing just… goosebumps

Farrell!Penguin x Fem!Reader, word count: 700 good god i want him to dehydrate me to the point that i'm just a wee withered crisp sitting on his lap HNG 💜🐧 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: fingering, kissing, groping

Oswald lifted his hand to his mouth, inhaling as he brought his fingers into his mouth, parted lips closing around them as he savoured the taste of you. Your slick, your arousal, your satisfaction, all of it dancing on his taste buds as he sucked his fingers clean of you. Even at your third orgasm, you tasted as sweet, as strong, as you did the first time he'd made you cum that evening.

Through almost closed lips, too fatigued to even open your mouth properly, you mumbled your pleas.

"Ozzie... I could... I could go again..."

"Are you kiddin', sweetheart? You'll pass out."

He looked at your eyes, glazed over, lust-filled even after your two previous orgasms, both of them pleasurable and satisfying, but clearly not enough to completely cure your hunger.

"I'm fine, I can take it. I want it, please. Please."

It was hard for him to say no to you. A lot of his sense of pride, his affections, his dominance, his masculinity even, they all hung on his ability to spoil you. To treat you as he knew you deserved. But there was a little bit of him that delighted in teasing. And beyond even that, there was a distinct pleasure in hearing you beg him. It made his cock throb each time your lips formed the elongated vowel in the middle of your "please". Being wanted felt good, being needed felt even better.

"Whaddaya think this is, baby? Some kind of charity case? I'm a busy man, sweetheart. I gotta get back to work."

You reached out for him, catching the sleeve of his suit jacket as he moved to flatten the collar down, pulling him back to you and finding him surprisingly easy to control, almost like he was expecting you to keep begging, or that he wanted you to. One he was seated again, you shifted yourself onto his lap, ample space for you on his thick, wide thighs to get comfortable.

"No, please... come on, Ozzie. Once more, just a little more. It won't take much, I swear. Just your fingers again... I'm so close already."

You were writhing in the seat, jerking your hips a little as you tried to find the friction you were desperate for him to give you. Oswald watched your body moving, how it seemed so desperate, so needy, and the familiar stir at the front of his pants threatened to give him away.

Reaching down the front of your already soaked underwear, his fingers trailed over your swollen, tingling lips, the cool of his ring making your whole body twitch, head thrown back with a gasp as he spread your folds open. One finger tickled up the length of your entrance, teasing over your clit.

He cooed, a warm rumble from his chest that sent a shiver over you. As you digested it, let it warm you, surround you, he leaned in, a soft kiss pressed to the front of your throat, Oswald's strong nose against you, nuzzling into you.

"Please... please, Ozzie... please..."

Begging him always worked. He liked to be needed, to be wanted. To have you so desperate that you were willing to debase yourself just to get what you were pleading for.

You were close already, riding on the high of your previous climaxes, rocking yourself back and forth on Oswald's fingers as he kissed your throat, tongue flitting out over his lips to taste you, not quite satisfied with how much of you he had already savoured.

With you fucking yourself on his fingers, he let himself grab at your body, anywhere his hands could reach he touched, held, aiding you in the rough rocking that was getting you off. And he pulled you closer as you whined, shaking and convulsing as you orgasm took control of your muscles and limbs, the heat spreading through you, dissipating slowly with the relief it always brought.

Holding you to his chest, Oswald sighed, satisfied in his own efforts. He was a man of his word, it was important to him to stick to it. But if you asked again, for just one more, he would have to oblige.

#reeves!verse #finnie writes #oswald cobblepot #the penguin #the batman 2022 #colin farrell penguin #the batman fanfic #the batman 2022 fic #oswald cobblepot x reader #oswald cobblepot x you

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sunshine-theseus · 4 months ago

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Fools | Kyra Cooney-Cross x ND!Reader

Words: 4.3k

Summary: no one understood your mind, until you met Kyra.

Notes: Guys I have no knowledge of how Emirates is laid out, how meeting players off the pitch works etc, so I’m completely making this shit up I’m sorry. also sorry for the super long introduction, and the shit writing, I haven’t written in months.

Warnings: mentions of abuse - not proofread. i'm so sorry if this is so shit i genuinely haven't written in months. i wanted this one to be good so bad but i just don't think it is

the person who requested this has since deactivated so i actually feel so bad that i didn't get this out while they were on here. i'm genuinely so sorry for the past like 6 months.

I always struggled with social interactions. I didn’t understand it for a long time, why I always had to smile and hug people, why I had to lie about certain things like how I thought my aunt’s bright green hat looked, why I couldn’t ramble about Star Wars or the new penguin facts I just learned.

Then there were the sounds, and lights and the way things felt. Everything had to be specific, or I couldn’t focus. Sometimes if it was bad enough that I would have a breakdown, unable to do anything. My parents tried to scold it out of me when as a kid I couldn’t eat certain foods or wear the clothes they wanted. Sometimes if they deemed it worthy, I’d be met with the flesh of a palm against my cheek or bottom.

When I was 12, I presented the idea that maybe I was autistic to my parents. I’d researched it at school for a social emotional learning class we had to take, and I couldn’t help but notice the similarities I found within myself. If I think about it hard enough, I can feel every burning outline of the dark red hand marks that bloomed on my skin hours after the interaction, and the burning of my eyes as my stomach rumbled, drowned out by the music rumbling through my headphones.

At 17 I emancipated from my parents and moved to North Watford, renting out a small studio apartment above a record shop. I completed my final year of high school, working part time in the store, building a much-desired routine. The man that owned the shop and my apartment, and his young daughter, were migrants from Cuba, and more than happy to accommodate to my needs. They even chipped in to help me pay for my autism screening after I graduated high school.

I think they were the first people I willingly hugged ever.

I stopped masking when I moved, so the daughter, Elena; 5, took a few months to understand why I didn’t like touch or loud noises and why I didn’t understand some of the jokes she said that others usually laughed at. Not that I’d had the diagnosis at that time, but she was happy to just spend time with me. Every afternoon when I came back from school and started my shift, she’d beg me for more penguin facts, asking which was my favourite penguin. In return she’d spend the 2-hour shift drawing me something, usually a penguin, to pin on my corkboard at home.

I’d then help with her homework while Camilo closed shop and posted any online orders. It was a routine I cherished deeply.

Now, 3 and a bit years later at 21 years old, they managed to drag me to a football game. Equipped with headphones and a couple small sensory toys, as well as a hoodie under the “Miedema” jersey, the material of which originally had me tugging and prying the shirt away from my skin.

Elena and Camilo had been big fans of Arsenal for as long as I’d known them, going to every home game, begging me to join them every week without fail. I finally caved during a break in my uni courses, with nothing to do and Elena’s birthday falling on the day of a game, there was no other choice.

The newly 9-year-old basically imploded when she saw my printed ticket stub, tucked tightly into her birthday card. I gently ruffled her hair, which had become my version of hugging her, and showed her the 3 matching red and white #11 jerseys I purchased not long ago. She’d talked a lot about this Vivianne Miedema and how she wanted to be just like her when she grew up, but she’d never gotten a jersey, or seats on the bottom tier. Today was the day.

“Come ooonnn I want to get to our seats!” the pinky of her left hand links with my right one as her other hand is holding her dad’s, and she’s dragging us down the lane toward the entrance.

“Slow down Pollito! We have 20 more minutes until we need to be seated.” My special schedule for the day runs through my head as I check my watch. Plenty of time as long as the crowd keeps flowing.

“I wish you didn’t learn Spanish. It’s such a silly nickname.”

“But you’re my little chicken.” I send a joking frown her way and she replies with a toothless grin.

With the abrupt end to the conversation, we arrive at the gate. Showing the stewardess our tickets to be scanned, we then head toward our seats. As Camilo and I take our seats at the very front, instead of make way to their usual seats a tier up, Elena stops and looks back and forth between us.

“There’s no way you got us these seats.” Without a word I pull the girl in between us and she begins to ramble about how excited she is to be able to see the game so close, still able to be clearly heard through my headphones I manage to slip over my ears.

The game is drawn 1-1 just after half time, but Arsenal is close to having the upper hand. From across the pitch, Elena spots the tall and lanky number 11, Vivianne Miedema, pulling off her fluoro yellow bib and warm up shirt and lining up next to number 32 behind the fourth official who is prepping her sign. With a couple of whacks to my arm and an aggressive point of her finger, Elena makes me and Camilo very aware of the impending entrance of her favourite player, and another really attractive girl who is very obviously wearing her socks on the wrong feet. The thought makes me squirm but a shot on goal quickly manages to take my focus.

“Who’s the one coming on with Viv? You’ve never told me about number 32.” It’s hard to take my eyes off the girl as she jumps from one foot to the other, anticipating her entrance.

“Oh that’s Kyra Cooney-Cross! She’s Australian, she transferred at the start of the season. Jonas should play her more.” I acknowledge her words with a hum and a nod before we join in cheering Viv and Kyra on.

My eyes are glued to Kyra the rest of the game. Without any knowledge of how football works, I’m left to assume she’s good with the way she dances around players and passes the ball. It was weird, but her movement was so free flowing it would not be atrocious to confuse her with a ballerina. Elegant and calculated, no hesitation.

“Where are we going?” my pinky is once again linked with Elena’s as I drag her and Camilo through Emirates.

“Papa where is she going? The exit is that way.”

“I have no clue chica, but I suppose we should trust her aye?” with that, the father-daughter duo track behind me.

Eventually I stop just where the opening of the tunnel leads out on to the pitch and show a lady the pass I’d been carrying around all day. She smiles and begins walking down the tunnel, waving behind her as a sign for us to follow.

“What’s going on?” Elena asks once again, but I just follow the lady onto the pitch, where multiple members of the Arsenal squad are now loitering around, obviously waiting for something, or someone. At the front of the group is Viv, and when she spots the small girl behind me her eyes light up.

“Hi! You must be Elena. We’ve heard a lot about you!” she sends the girl a smile, but Elena doesn’t make any move to continue the conversation. My head whips to her and I nearly have to laugh from how adorable she is. Her jaw has dropped open and her eyes are welling up with tears, so I ruffle her hair and bend down to her height, removing my headphones.

“What’s up buttercup?” I lightly tap her head.

“That’s really her.” she whispers to me, her eyes not leaving the Dutch woman, who lets out a chuckle.

“Yes it is.”

“How?” I tap the side of my nose at her question indicating it’s to be left a secret.

“Can I have a hug?” Viv kneels on one knee and opens her arms and Elena suddenly breaks lose from her trance and runs up to her hero.

“It’s nice to meet you liefje, I hear you’ve been a fan for a long time. And today’s your birthday. How old are you turning?”

“Nine!”

“Oh wow, you’re growing up!”

“I know, but Y/N still calls me Pollito. I’m not a little chicken.” Everyone looking on bursts out laughing as Elena frowns, and while I join them, the loud sound simply reminds me of the lack of protection on my ears.

Elena gets whisked off to talk and play around with Viv and some of the other girls, who seem to all have taken a genuine liking to the young girl, Camilo following to watch over them. I stand firmly on the sidelines, fidgeting with an infinity cube and trying to forget the sudden scratching of my hoodie’s tag on the back of my neck and the tightness of my socks, when a now familiar face pops in front of me.

I don’t notice her at first, my eyes are closed and I’m trying breathing patterns in hopes that the overstimulating sensations with dissipate. It’s only when I open my eyes to check on Elena that I get the shock of my life. Number 32 is just standing in front of me, staring, waiting for me to notice her. no less than a minute ago she’d been spinning Elena around and laughing with her, which I’d found alarmingly adorable, how’d she get here so fast?

She doesn’t say anything, she just smiles and waves, and I realise she must think I can’t hear her with my headphones on, which many people tend to ignore. Wow she’s much prettier up close.

“Hi, I’m Y/N” I return her smile, but don’t make any move to remove the headphones.

“I’m Kyra.” Her voice is muffled but her accent is incredible and like music to my ears.

“You played really well today.” Is she blushing? Red creeps up her neck and finds home on her round cheeks as she smiles brightly.

“Ah thanks, I try to give it my all. Hoping to prove I deserve more game time.”

“You don’t get played often?” another chuckle passes her lips and I feel my stomach tighten.

“Uh no. I take it you’re not a big football fan?”

“What gives you that idea.”

“Well rocking up to an Arsenal game with blue nails for a start.” I cock my head to the side and give her a confused look. I did a lot of research for today, there was no room for me to mess up.

“Chelsea, our biggest rivals, their colour is blue. It’s basically forbidden for an arsenal fan to wear blue to a game. Trust me, I learnt the hard way.”

I’m quick to hide my hands in the pocket at the front of my hoodie, fidgeting with my nails. How did I manage to fuck that up?

“You don’t really have to worry, just maybe keep it in mind if you ever come to another game. I hope you do by the way.” She flashes me a smile that makes me feel warm and I can’t help myself.

“You’re very pretty.” She’s about to reply when I glance down and notice her socks are still wrong.

“And I’m not sure if you know but your socks are on the wrong feet.” It’s quiet for a moment and I’m not sure if my common candour has once again overstepped. I can’t even open my mouth to apologise before she giggles.

“I knew there was something wrong. I keep doing it but no one tells me until after the game… and you’re quite beautiful yourself. If you don’t mind me saying.” My eyes continue to avoid her face as I bounce on the balls of my feet and try to refrain from shaking my hands, my most common stim.

“Thank you.”

We’re silent for a minute or so, which I don’t mind now that I’m more familiar with her. I continue to watch Elena and Camilo, who are now playing in a 5v5, Viv carrying the girl halfway down their makeshift pitch before helping her kick the ball. When her laughs echo through the stadium, joy breaking through her screams and from the yells of her dad who is playing a rather poor referee, I’m reminded of how much I love this family. I can’t help the smile on my face.

“Your sister is very adorable.” I glance to my side where Kyra now resides and contemplate telling her she isn’t my sister, but the words get stuck in my throat. If I were to say they weren’t my family after all they’ve done for me, then I’d be lying.

“Yeah. She’s basically my whole life.”

“Hey can I ask about the headphones? I mean you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want but-“

“I’m autistic. Struggle really bad with sound and other stimulants. I wear headphones to dampen sounds, especially in public. And stadiums are full of sounds.” My palms sweat a little and my breath is laboured for a moment. This is usually the part where people decide I’m a freak and never talk to me again.

“Oh cool. I totally get that, the sound thing.” That warm feeling returns. She doesn’t question anything, she just agrees.

Eventually the meet and greet had to end, but I manage to get a few of the girl’s numbers, including number 32’s. Something I hadn’t expected was that the team would love Elena so much that they wanted to organise season tickets and some more passes to meet up after home games. I couldn’t help but be a little proud of myself as the young girl rambled about how amazing it was to get to hang out with her idols, and the prospect of seeing them again.

Uni starts back up the following week, so I don’t join the two for a game for quite a while. Despite that, I find myself texting Kyra most days, a good morning and goodnight routine quickly being established. We ask each other questions about each other. ‘What did you want to be if football didn’t work out?’ ‘What made you want to study your course?’ ‘what’s your favourite thing about Australia?’.

She liked to ask me about parts of my autism every now and then. She wanted to know what things to avoid, what topics made me ramble for ages, safe foods. The only other people who had ever cared this much were Elena and Camilo. The two of which had definitely taken note of how happy I’d grown since the game.

“Who are you talking to Angelito? You haven’t smiled this big in a long time.” Camilo takes a seat beside me behind the desk of the store

There is no need to hide the blossoming relationship from him, so I turn my screen to show the messages between Kyra and I, a bold ‘No. 32’ under a very weird but unmistakable picture of the girl. He hums and smiles, lightly nudging our shoulders together.

“She likes you.”

“Pft no she doesn’t.”

“‘you’re so cute.’ ‘I really like you.’ ‘I’ll save that for when I take you on a date.’ With a winky face emoji. She literally admits she likes you. Twice.”

“I thought that was that flirty thing people do with their friends.”

“I know when people like each other.”

“How Milo?”

“I have a gift.”

“A gift hmm?” he just smiles widely down at me before taking my phone again. He begins to type something.

“What are you writing Milo? Milo!” I glance over his shoulder.

‘I really like you and would like to go on a date if you’re free.’ I’m about to scold him but three dots appear as Kyra begins typing.

“If this works you owe me an extra hour this week.”

“You are an evil schemer Camilo.” I say before squeezing his shoulder, a common sign of affection we’d developed.

‘I’d really like that. Tomorrow’s our day off if that works.’

I can’t help the squeal I let out as Camilo writes a response in confirmation.

“I’m going on a date.”

“You deserve this kiddo.”

Kyra and I agree on a dinner date at a restaurant I’d mentioned really enjoying a few months ago, that I hadn’t had a chance to visit since. I’d made the reservation, asking for the specific table I’d sat at the last time I came, and I’d already decided on what I was getting before I even hoped in the car to drive there.

I’d planned everything perfectly. The place, my outfit, what time I had to leave to arrive there 10 minutes before our agreed upon time. I hadn’t taken into account the car speeding through a red light and crashing into the car in the right lane beside me. Or the fact that due to the momentum I’d get caught between the 2 cars and the building on the corner of the street I was just about to turn down. No more than 15 metres from the restaurant but I’m trapped and the seatbelt is too tight and my head hurts. I’m crushed between my door and the centre console and all the sirens and ambulance lights approaching are too much and all I can do it cry.

If I could just reach my bag in the footwell of the passenger seat I could get my headphones to relieve some of the stimulation, but I can’t bend that way without my ribs screaming and whatever is poking my hip in my back making itself known.

I pray to every god I can name that I pass out, but no one hears as the jaws of life pry open my door. When were the other cars moved?

“Ma’am we have to cut you out. my colleague here is going to hold you up. Is that okay?” I don’t have any energy to say no, so I nod, waiting for some scissors to snip away at the seatbelt. Instead, I hear an electric saw whir to life.

“W- what’s the saw for?” my words are barely recognisable as they slur together.

“Ma’am everything is okay, just stay still for us okay?”

The sawing is over quicker than it begun, and the paramedics make an effort to move me as carefully as they can onto the stretcher, then into the ambulance. I make no move to complain about how the neck brace is itchy and feels suffocating.

A minute passes and through the newly developed ringing in my ears, I hear someone calling my name. they sound so far away but when I open my eyes again, Kyra is standing above me, next to the paramedic who’s hooking me up to monitors,

“Do you know this lady ma’am?” she asks me as I stare up at the girl I was meant to be on a date with.

“Yeah she’s my girlfriend.” A voice in the back of my head is worried that maybe that will freak Kyra out, but I know they won’t let her ride with me if we don’t have some close connection and for some reason friend does not cross my mind.

They allow her to take the extra seat beside me and she loops her pinky with mine. She keeps glancing down toward my stomach and taking deep breaths as we make our way down the streets of London. I try to see what she’s looking at but the brace doesn’t allow me to look that far down.

“You’re going to be okay.” She whispers as they roll me out of the ambulance, and she manages to quickly kiss me before I’m gone from view.

I don’t know how long I’m out for, but when I wake up there is a sterile white light beaming down on me and I have to instantly close my eyes. I’m quick to take note of the horrible feeling of the hospital gown I definitely wasn’t in when I’d gone under.

“Papa! She’s awake!” I let out a groan at the yell but and quick to smile once the voice registers in my head.

“Pollito.” My voice is no more than a whisper, hoarse and dry.

“Hey Angelito. How are you feeling.”

“Horrible. The light’s too bright and the gown is so itchy.” Neither Elena nor Camilo leave my side, but the light is off within seconds.

“I more meant physically. You were hit pretty hard.” The screeching of tyres, the smell of burnt rubber, the flashing lights, all rush back to me. So does the pain.

“Now that you mention it. What’s the damage?” it’s meant as a joke but I’m trying not to cry.

“3 broken ribs, 2 fractured, a torn vastus lateralis in your thigh, a lot of muscle damage in your back. It’s going to be a lot of physical therapy kiddo.” The thought has bile rising in my throat.

“Fuck me.”

“It’s okay, we’re going to be here the whole way. All of us.” By now I could know the voice in a crowd of people.

I turn my head and there she is. Kyra is sat in one of the uncomfortable hospital seats with her hand on top of mine.

“If it’s okay with you, Camilo, me and some of the arsenal girls are going to sort out a schedule to take turns helping you with PT. Viv was really hoping she could give some tips considering how long she spent doing PT.”

“That sounds perfect. But please tell me one of you has my pyjamas. I need to get out of this gown.”

There was no lie in how difficult rehab was. I had an hour appointment at the hospital every day and additional work at home that Milo, Kyra and some of the arsenal girls happily helped with. The hardest hurdle was amount of physical touch that was required. My physical therapist, Jordan, always made sure I knew when she needed to touch my leg or something, but that did very little to sooth the feeling that crawled beneath my skin. She was able to dim the fluorescent white lights and allowed me to wear my headphone which did help a small amount.

Kyra basically moved into my room above the shop. Milo insisted he could do all the work of getting me around the house and the shop, but we knew he couldn’t while maintaining the shop and looking after Elena. Elena tried her best to help by making me breakfast. She gathered pre-made versions of my safe breakfast food and carefully place them separately on a plate, with a glass of orange juice every morning. After the first week she realised I’d be in a wheelchair and struggling to move around much for much longer than she thought, so she quickly gave up on that idea and began making me penguin drawings at school.

I’d adapted to having Kyra around much quicker than I expected to. When I moved in at 17, it took me months to get used to the layout and the fact that I was alone, despite Camilo and Elena living in the house across the road. I adapted to Kyra’s presence within weeks.

After the second week we’d decided it was easier to share the bed rather than her sleeping on the couch, which had been the biggest change. I struggled with it the first few nights. I had a sleep routine that was already disrupted by the injuries, now I had to take another person into account. But she was so warm, and I felt so safe in her arms. Whenever I woke up from a nightmare about the crash, she grabbed me an iced tea and my headphones and would ramble about whatever interests she had recently developed or whatever was happening at training.

It was in the second month things took a more serious turn. Well serious for our relationship. I was sitting at the table chopping the vegetables for dinner while she begins cooking, when I took a minute to just look at her. The warm lighting softened her features, her quiet humming to whatever song was playing carried throughout the room, the smile that seemed to never leave her face sat perfectly on her lips as she listened to me ramble about the newly discovered yellow king penguin. She was so radiant and attentive, and she was never annoyed at me when I was overstimulated or wanted to infodump. She was seemingly unaffected by my rehab and most importantly unaffected by my autism. After a life full of negative interactions and losing people because of one thing I couldn’t control, I’d found a family and a partner who embraced me.

I didn’t realise I was crying until she turned and asked me what was wrong.

“I’m just grateful.”

“For what?”

“You, Milo, Elena. I love you all so much.” I didn’t realise I’d said it really. I was just being candid, as I always was.

“You love me?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation even as it dawned on me.

“Well, I love you too.” There is a split second between the end of her sentence and the meeting of our lips in a kiss.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” I ask as we pull away.

“Wait- I thought- when you called me your girlfriend on the ambulance I kind of took that as you asking me to be your girlfriend.” She begins laughing.

“What? This whole time I’ve been nervous about actually asking you and you already thought I had?” I can’t help but join her laugh.

“We’re such fools.” She whispers, and we kiss again.

I'll always be a fool for her.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #wsl #womens soccer #arsenal fcw #kyra cooney cross x reader #kyra cooney cross

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short-honey-badger · 10 months ago

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Trouble Sleeping

This is pure filthy smut, that's literally it. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings! Smut SMut Smut! ABO universe as well. It's been a looong time since I've written for it. Pre time skip Law btw!

Pairings: Alpha! Trafalger D. Water Law x Omega! Reader

Summary: You notice that your captain hasn't slept in the past couple of days, so you offer to help him relax.

Part 2 ->

Masterlist.

It’s been what? Two? Three days since the last time Law had gotten a decent night’s rest? If it wasn’t the nightmares keeping him up every time he closed his eyes, then it was his incessant need to plan. To go over the research the alpha had begun to gather about Punk Hazard and Ceasar’s operation. It was all to get closer to Doflamingo of course, but Trafalgar would give anything not to have to deal with the disgusting scientist.

And to get some rest, but the pirate doubted that would come anytime soon.

Law wipes his eyes, pushing away from his desk and closing the thick folder of compiled notes. He needed a break, maybe even something to eat, too. The alpha’s stomach grumbled at the thought of food and he stood from his desk, grabbing his hat and fixing it properly on his head.

As he walked through the walls of familiar walls of the Polar Tang, Law thought about the newest member of his crew. While he wasn’t in the habit of picking up strays, you had piqued his interest when you wouldn’t stop bugging him and his crew about learning medicine. To quench his curiosity, Law had allowed you to come on board, and you have been a dutiful student ever since. And despite what Penguin and Shachi liked to think, it was not because you were a pretty omega in need asking for his help. Trafalgar liked to think he was better than his alpha instincts.

Ah. Speaking of the omega, Law could smell your honeysuckle scent just around the corner. You must been in the galley.

Law spots you at one of the tables in the corner, nose stuck in a medical text and a half-empty plate of whatever the cooks had made tonight. On a whim, he decides to grab a cup of coffee and his own serving and joins you at your table. You jump when he sets his plate down, but your expression brightens the moment you notice that it is your captain sitting across from you.

“Evening, Cap’n,” you greet, and Law finds his shoulders relaxing when he catches your scent again. It is warm and welcoming, soothing his frayed nerves with ease.

“_-ya,” Law rumbles back in greeting and meets your eyes, smirking when he notices you watching him. He isn’t surprised when you speak up, but he doesn’t expect you to sound so concerned.

“Have ya been gettin’ enough sleep Cap’n? Not ta speak out of turn, but you don’t look so good. A-and I’ve seen you roamin’ the halls more than usual,” you’re blushing when you finish, but Law finds your rambling endearing and doesn’t bother lying to you like he might others.

“Not really, little medic, but you shouldn’t worry about me. I’ll be fine,” He assures you and then sips his coffee. He glances over to see that the omega doesn’t look very satisfied with his answer, and his instincts make themselves known when he catches a whiff of hot displeasure in your scent.

Before Trafalgar can do much and possibly make a fool of himself, you speak up again.

“Well, is there anything that I can do to help?” the omega asks, and Law pauses, arm stalling midair, fork halfway to his mouth. Despite the innocent way you ask the question, his mind goes straight to the gutter, and the pirate captain sees you on your knees in his bed, face down and ass up, presenting beautifully for him. Law can hear the way your cute accent whispers his name, pretty eyes glistening with tears as you beg him for his cock.

“Cap’n? You okay, there?” A cool hand on his forehead and your soft voice bring the alpha out of his daydream, and he flushes even more at having been caught zoning out like that.

“Ah, sorry about that, _-ya. Just tired, like I said,” Law murmurs and sets his fork down to hide his face behind his cup of coffee. You assure him that he is fine and tentatively go back to your book when it seems like Law isn’t going to answer your question.

In reality, the alpha is pondering your question. It was a fact that omegas were able to put alphas in a calming state. Usually, Law wouldn’t mention it, but you had asked if you could do anything for him, and your omega pheromones would most likely do the trick and put him to sleep.

“You know what,” Law begins and you jerk your head up to look at him, surprised that he’d spoken up, “I think you can help me out, little medic. If you’re done here?”

Your eyebrows jump up, and then the little omega is nodding, a happy smile painting your lips. Law watches you stand and close your book, tucking it under your arm and then tossing your cleaned plate in the sink at the back of the room. He follows your path, and then Law is leading you out of the kitchen and back to his office.

The alpha keeps going, opening up the door in his office that connects to his bedroom. You tentatively follow after him, and Law’s alpha rumbles in satisfaction at having such a pretty omega in his room. His scent, clean and fresh with a hint of steel, coats everything, and Law quietly hopes that it sticks with you after you leave his room.

Trafalgar doesn’t think twice about tossing his hat to the side and shrugging off his shirt. His jeans are replaced by a pair of soft sweats, and when he looks at you, your face is bright red, eyes wide in shock. Your scent sweetens with a hint of arousal and Law smirks, it’s a surprise, but not unwelcome.

“You’ve learned a lot while you’ve been here, _-ya. So you know that omegas can manipulate their scents to calm down the other sex in tense situations. It works better when they have been near one another for long periods of time. I’d like for you to do that for me if you’re comfortable with that.”

Law watches the omega as you think, but it doesn’t take you long to come to a decision. You set your book aside and give him a shy, unsure smile.

“Got another pair of sweatpants? Jeans aren’t very comfortable to lay down in.”

The alpha chuckles and then sets about finding another pair of sweats. A dark, possessive part of him is delighted at the sight of you standing in his room with a pair of too-big sweatpants, and Law has to fight down the almost overwhelming need to pull you into his bed to scent you. Instead, like the gentleman he is trying to be, Law pulls back the covers of his bed and stands back, offering for you to crawl in first.

“Make yourself comfortable,” the alpha drawls, and watches with lidded eyes as you slip into his his bed. He follows after and cuts the lights with a flick of his fingers and the use of his devil fruit. Law hears you suck in a sharp breath when he settles in beside you, laying on his side and tossing an arm over your hip. He emits his own calming pheromones and blinks at the back of your head when you take deep, shuddering breaths of his scent.

The alpha hadn’t expected you to do that, but the sight of you breathing in his scent made his hold on you tighten, and Law pulled you back into his chest, leaning down to bury his face in your hair. He hums when you lift your leg, and he slips his thigh in between your legs, bringing the two of you impossibly closer.

After that, it is easy for the two of you to relax, honeysuckle and steel mixing to create a unique scent that represents the alpha and omega. Being surrounded by the combined scent leaves Law feeling drowsy, eyes fluttering shut as he shoves his face closer to the scent gland on your neck, desperate for more of that sweet honeysuckle. You squirm for half a second and then settle again, content to help out your captain where you can.

Neither of you expects to fall asleep, but when Law wakes, he feels far more refreshed than he has in a long time. He cracks open his eyes and takes in the new position the two of you shifted to in sleep. Trafalgar lays on his back and the little omega has sprawled over his chest, your face pressed into the hollow of his throat, and arms wrapped around his neck. His arms are wrapped securely around your waist, and Law smiles when you mutter softly and shift in your sleep.

Law contemplates going back to sleep, but then you shift again, and all thoughts of sleep fly out of his mind when your hip brushes against his cock. He fights back a groan, tattooed hands flexing and digging into your soft skin. Fuck. He wants you. He wants your attention, and your pretty eyes and plush mouth on him all the time. The alpha wants to bite you, sink his teeth into your nape, and claim you as his.

He rolls, trapping you under him, and you wake with a gasp, eyes flying open to stare at your captain who looms above you. He looks frightening in the low light of his room, but the way his scent is wrapped around you is nothing but comforting. You aren’t scared of this dangerous alpha.

“_-ya,” Law growls your name, dipping down to press his brow against your own, eyes catching yours and glowing with hot arousal, “You did so well for me. Helping me get some rest. Let me reward such a good omega.”

The way your scent turns hot and sticky with arousal is enough of an answer for Law. He turns his head, keeping himself held up with one arm as the other grips your jaw. Trafalgar’s lips meet your own in a steamy kiss. He smooths his thumb up, catching your bottom lip and tugging it down, pulling your mouth open enough to slip his tongue inside.

You whine under him, hands digging into his hair to the point of pain, but it only makes the alpha groan into the kiss. Law’s dick throbs in his pants, so he moves, grinding up into the welcoming heat between his legs. The friction is delicious, but it isn’t enough.

Law lifts himself up, breaking the kiss and leaving you winded. Your pupils are blown, and your mouth is bright red from the way his facial hair has rubbed against your skin. He shimmies down, hands finding the waistband of the sweats you wear and hooking his fingers under them. He makes sure to catch the other elastic band he feels and tugs the pants and your underwear down in one fell swoop.

“Fuck, you smell so good, Baby,” Law rumbles and shoves his face in the slope of your right, lips mouthing at the minor scent glands there. You cry out and grp his hair even harder, eyes blown wide as you watch him breathe you in, “Like honey and warm desserts.”

“Y-you smell good too, Cap’n,” You whisper, voice shaking as you try and deal with the pleasure that Law smothers you with, “Clean and fresh. I like it.”

A low growl erupts in the room and Law rewards your compliment by flattening his tongue and licking a stripe along your entire cunt. The alpha groans at the taste, your slick is just as sweet as you smell, and Trafalgar regrets never asking you to his room sooner. He grabs your hips, lifting them so that he can point his tongue and shove it deep into your leaking hole.

You wail, curses falling from your lips as you buck your hips against his face, seeking that burning pleasure that only Law can give you. The alpha drinks from you, lewd slurping sounds filling the room until you are bowing forward and pulling him off your cunt.

Law’s face is soaked in your juices, and he bares his teeth at you for pushing him away. He would know if he’d made you come, and he looks at you to demand an answer.

“I want you to fuck me, Cap’n,” You say and it stalls Law in his tracks. Your eyes shine with want and you grip his shoulders, nails digging in, “I- I want to come on your cock, not your tongue.”

The pirate can’t get his pants off fast enough. His lanky legs end up getting tangled in his sweats, but you patiently extract the fabric and toss them to the floor. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, and slick leaks out of you to stain Law’s sheets. The alpha’s dick is the perfect specimen, thick at the base, knot looking inflated already. His length tapers up slightly, only to end in a silky head that leaks with precum.

“Get on your knees, Baby. Present for me, yeah?” Law orders and you scramble to obey, brain mush with alpha pheromones that leave you feeling fuzzy.

His omega rolls to their knees, thighs parted in a wonderful display of trust. You bite the pillow under you, whining when your senses are overwhelmed with the scent of your Captain. Tears leak from your eyes and a low cry escapes you when Law drapes himself over your back, cock slotting between your legs and dragging over your pussy.

Law ruts against you, coating his dick in your slick until his member is nice and soaked. He leans back enough to grab the base, angling it up to run the head of his cock through your folds. You sob at the feeling, back arching and hips shaking in search of him.

“Please, Law. I’m wet enough, just put it in,” You whine and the alpha growls at the way you beg him. His tip catches your entrance on his neck stroke, and Law doesn’t stop gravity as he sinks into your warm heat.

You feel amazing around him, walls fluttering and gripping his cock so tightly that Law hisses as he sicks another inch down. His mouth drops, and he sucks in greedy mouthfuls of your scent, leaning down to nip at the gland on your neck where the sweet smell is the most potent.

“You’re mine after this, got it, omega? No one else can have you this way. No one else can feel your tight cunt other than me,” Law snarls and you nod frantically, face still pressed into the pillows.

The alpha doesn’t wait any longer, sinking the rest of the way inside and snarling at the way his knot catches on your walls. It's overwhelming, and Law presses his forehead harshly against your shoulder blades to prevent himself from biting you. Now wasn’t the time to try and forge a mating bond. Not when Doflamingo still threatened everything that Law cared for.

Trafalgar fucks you like a man possessed, hands harsh and fingertips digging in hard enough to leave bruises. He snaps his hips, dragging his cock along your walls as you clench and flutter around him. He changes angles, slowing down only to roughly slam into you, and you shout when his dick catches against that spongy spot inside of you.

Law grins, teeth bared in a feral grin as he focuses on that spot and pounds into your cunt. Your hands grip the sheets hard enough the tear them, tears leaking down your face as Law abuses that spot inside of you. It’s not long before the alpha has you shouting your name, jaw dropping open in a silent scream as you come around his cock.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Law chants when your cunt constricts around him. He wants to come inside of you, pump you so full of his seed that it would be dripping out for the next week. But knotting you means pups, and those aren’t something that anyone needs right now.

So, despite his instincts screaming at him to mark you on the inside, Law pulls out when he feels that tension snap, pumping his dick and instead painting your backside and cunt with his spend. He milks his cock, shaking and whining as he gently massages his knot. Your hips have fallen without Law to hold you up, but that doesn’t stop him from draping himself back over the omega, hand finding your hip and rubbing his cum into your skin. He needed to make sure that you were properly covered after all.

Below him, you settle into the comfy bed and close your eyes. You are content to let your alpha take care of you, and so easily fall back to sleep.

Your captain snickers softly when he notices that his omega has already dropped back off to sleep, and rolls the two of you to the side, snuggling close and closing his eyes. He’d take you to the shower later, but for now, Law was just happy that you were here to help him go back to sleep too.

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fanaticsnail · 7 months ago

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How They Kiss

Masterlist Here

Word count: 200+ x4

Synopsis: four very different kisses with your favourite one piece characters. Small drabbles for four different scenarios.

Notes: I needed to write some kisses. Just some sweet kisses with our favourites. I adore writing kisses. There needs to be more kisses. This is me procrastinating. Art link

Apprehensive Tag List: @sordidmusings @feral-artistry @i-am-vita @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @mfreedomstuff @carrotsunshine @vespidphoenix

Aggressive Passion

Zoro, Kid, Killer, Doflamingo, Buggy, Crocodile, Luffy, Roger, Garp, Arlong, Lucci, Nami, Alvida, Ikkaku

Hands heaped in bunches clutch behind your head, fistfuls of your hair scrunched firmly against your scalp. Each moment you attempt to pull away and gasp for air, they're back on you and holding you firmly while their lips latch themselves desperately against your own.

All raw, all passion, all encumbering; consuming all of who and what you are and forging their claim upon you by the brutality of their embrace. Should you struggle to flee from their vice-like grip, desperately in need of a reprieve; their relentless tongue enters your mouth and captures your essence while simultaneously molding themselves into you.

When a small amount reprieve is granted; their lips find your jaw, your chin, your neck, and your shoulders. Wandering fingers scrape and claw at your back as your body is held at ransom to their vivacious lust. They have to claim you, they have to showcase their ownership of all that you are, they have to demonstrate to all surrounds that you are theirs and theirs alone.

Their lips write threats on your skin, and their raspy, lustful voice growls between bites, licks, and kisses.

“Mine,” their voice growls in a predatory rumble, their intentions not only convincing you, but themselves, “All mine.”

Silent Romance

Mihawk, Beckman, Rosinante Corazon, Rayleigh, Law, Shanks, Marco, Aokiji Kuzon, Robin, Vivi, Boa Hancock

Eyes glazed before shrouded beneath their fluttering eyelids, their lips caress yours with more words than lips could ever speak. A whisper calls to you, beckons you in as they rotate their chin to deepen their tantric oscillation.

Their hands wander up to cradle your flesh, gently raking the brush of their fingertips over your exposed skin before dipping beneath your shirt to seek out your body heat. Soft calls of their unspoken plea to open yourself up to a little more, they pull away from your lips to brush their nose and nuzzle their forehead against your own.

Your eyes flutter open, noticing their eyelids are partially cracked and gazing at you with longing. Their bruised lips softly upturn, their squinted smile showcased in the corner of their eyes. Anchoring yourself against them, you reignite their desire by pressing your lips once more to theirs.

As they part their lips, you feel the furrow of their brow in deep concentration, wrapped up in sharing the small carving of their personal bliss painted against you. It was portraiture, mapping your lips with their own and tasting the brushstrokes within each small change in momentum.

They whisper a call of your name, as their lips hover over yours. Their eyes hold more emotion than their words could ever speak.

Desperate Longing

Sanji, Ace, Shachi, Penguin, Helmeppo

The final lunge towards you held you captivated and in awe. Hands gripped at your waist, hips stapled your body between the hard surface of the cool floor, and the warmth of their body caging you beneath them.

Their warm tongue darted out to dominate and consume your own, breathy pants and whimpered whispers pleading a chant of, “More. Please more.”

Your hands reach up to caress their cheeks, hovering over the subtle dips and grooves you have mapped from memory. As they groaned through their struggle to claim more of your flavor over their palate, you met their desperation with only reciprocated passion.

Tugging at their hair has them whine against your lips. A strangulated groan followed by a roll of their eyes in bliss as you rolled them beneath your body with expert skill. Placing your hands beside their head and dipping down, you pressed an equally overemphatic kiss against their bruised lips.

Breath stolen from their lungs, heart beating with anxious rapidity, and hands wandering and roaming over your body; you bit, licked, caressed and sucked on their lips, jaw and neck as they cried out for you.

“Please,” they sniffed a soft sob, gasping their plea with the call of your name, “Please, I need more. Let me have more.”

Nervous Uncertainty

Usopp, Koby, Katakuri, Sabo, Franky, Hongo, Uni, Jimbei, Bartolomeo

A soft quiver in the corner of their lips, their brows elevated into a peaked triangle centralized to their forehead. Your eyes were darting between theirs, watching them wordlessly begin leaning in towards you.

Stuttering in their momentum, they hover their staggering lips over your own and their breath brushes against your skin. What felt like an eternity to them, they waited the turn of your cheek to reject their advance.

Your lips draw up into a broad smile, your eyelashes flutter as you lean in to take that final plunge and meet their lips. A shocked gasp is pulled from their throat, your smile only making their nerves spark with more intensity.

A hum of surprise fled from their lips the moment you parted your mouth to brush your tongue against theirs. Caressing their cheek, you support and guide them to make bolder movements. When their right hand finds your left, they interlace their fingers within your own while drawing their left hand to your hips.

What started with a steady and unsure stagger quickly sprung to more deliberate and intentional movements. They deepen the kiss with an angle of their chin, the brush of their nose and several open presses of their lips on yours.

“I don't do this often,” their voice quivers out their hushed confession, “But I want to keep doing this with you.”

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nomercymaster11 · 10 months ago

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It's complicated

@GOKUJOUNOMAGURO

W/C: 1,492 | Law x y/n , afab!reader, Heart Pirates daily life

A/N: How do you handle rejection? How do you cope? That's the theme of this series. (More interactions with the Heart Pirates crew too!) Please do comment if you want the next chapter. I hope you guys will like this... :3

The gentle rumbling of the submarine's engines filled the Polar Tang's hallway, providing a comforting background noise. The soft lights along the narrow corridor gave a cozy feeling, and at the end of the hall, a big window showed the calm ocean outside.

Law stood by the window; his attention focused on the marine life gracefully gliding through the clear blue water. It was a mesmerizing sight, yet the emotions brewing inside you threatened to cast a shadow over the beauty of the ocean beyond.

Taking a deep breath, you approached Law, your heart pounding with nervous anticipation. The silence in the hallway hung thick, broken only by the subtle creaking of the submarine as it navigated the ocean depths. The air felt heavy with unspoken words.

"Captain," you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

He turned his head, his gaze meeting yours with a calm and collected demeanor.

The sunlight, filtering through the water's surface, painted intricate patterns on the window. The beams of light cascaded like liquid gold, casting a heartfelt glow in the confined space. The scene seemed to echo the complexity of the emotions swelling within your heart.

"I need to tell you something,"

you confessed, your words lingering in the quiet hallway. Law's expression remained unreadable, and a flicker of hesitation passed through your eyes before you continued.

"I... I have feelings for you... I needed to let you know."

Law's stern gaze softened for a moment, but he remained silent.

"I understand if you don't feel the same way," you continued, your eyes dropping to the floor.

"But I couldn't keep it to myself any longer. It's okay if you don't—"

Law gently interrupted, his voice steady and composed,

"I appreciate your honesty, but I cannot reciprocate those feelings."

A heavy silence enveloped the both of you, the words echoing in the confined space. The sunlight outside the window continued its dance, casting both light and shadow on the scene, as if nature itself mirrored the bittersweet revelation.

"Thank you," You uttered politely.

Your eyes met Law's, a subtle acknowledgment of the conversation that had just unfolded. With a dignified nod, you bowed your head, attempting to maintain composure, concealing the devastation that echoed within you.

The hallway of the Polar Tang seemed to narrow as you walked away.

As you retreated to your station, you crossed paths with Shachi and Penguin.

"Ei! <y/n>," Penguin's enthusiastic shout pierced through the solemn atmosphere. Ignoring him, you continued walking, as if the world around you had faded into insignificance. The duo exchanged puzzled glances; their curiosity piqued by your unusual behavior. They decided to follow you, concerned expressions etched on their faces.

Shachi's voice cut through the silence.

"What's wrong? Why the long face?" Shachi questioned, lightly tapping your left shoulder. In an instant, tears welled up in your eyes, and the intense emotions poured out uncontrollably.

"Oi...!" Penguin exclaimed, guiding you to the side of the corridor.

Shachi followed suit, both concerned for your well-being. Your hands covered your face as you wept, and Penguin, ever watchful, scanned the surroundings for any prying eyes. With gentle gestures, they ushered you towards your room.

The three of you arrived at the front of your door.

"May we come in?" Penguin breaking the silence.

You nodded, closing the door behind you. Shachi and Penguin found seats within your room, while you settled on the edge of your bed.

"Tell us what happened," Penguin urged, his concern evident in his voice.

A heavy pause hung in the air before you began to speak.

"Law rejected me," you confessed, your gaze fixed on the floor, your voice barely audible. Shachi and Penguin exchanged surprised glances, struggling to comprehend the unexpected revelation.

“What do you mean you’ve been rejected?” Shachi asked you.

Penguin subtly motioned to Shachi, silently conveying that he would take charge of the situation.

"You're not thinking of leaving the crew, are you?" Penguin's direct inquiry followed.

"No, of course not... but... I don't know," you answered hesitantly. Your response left them concerned for your emotional state.

"Do you want us to talk to him?" Shachi offered; genuine worry etched across his face.

"Please don't!" you pleaded, locking eyes with Shachi, the horror of the prospect evident in your gaze.

"I'll handle this. I'll be fine. Thank you for the concern," you reassured them with a faint smile.

Penguin sighed heavily. "We shall get going then. He might be looking for us now," he added, offering a comforting pat on your back.

"Don't worry. We're not going to tell him that you talked to us. For now, you rest. We'll cover your station in the meantime," Shachi reassured you, a genuine sincerity in his words.

"I'm really sorry for the trouble, but thank you guys," you expressed your gratitude, the weight on your shoulders slightly lifted by their understanding and support.

Penguin and Shachi walked away from your room; the corridor once again enveloped in the subdued lighting of the submarine. Penguin's fingers absentmindedly brushed his chin as he delved into deep contemplation, his analytical mind trying to unravel the complexities of the situation.

"I don't get it," Penguin muttered, a perplexed furrow forming on his brow.

"We always catch Law looking at her, but why would he reject her?"

His voice carried a mix of confusion and frustration, as if trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces. The subtle hum of the submarine's engines seemed to echo the mystery surrounding Law's unexpected decision.

"Ngghhg," Shachi grunted, scratching his head with both of his hands, offering a non-verbal agreement to Penguin's sentiments. His brows furrowed in tandem with his friend's, both lost in thought as they navigated the narrow hallway.

The rhythmic sounds of their footsteps resonated against the metallic walls, a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil that lingered in the air. The enigma of Law's actions hung heavily between them, leaving the duo in a state of silent contemplation. As they continued their stroll through the Polar Tang, the captain's motives were still unclear, and this made them feel uneasy. It kind of spoiled the friendly vibe that had been briefly disrupted by what was revealed in your room.

---

Bepo's casual stroll towards the kitchen was abruptly interrupted by Shachi's shout, causing him to turn around with a surprised expression. Penguin and Shachi, sprinting to catch up, reached Bepo, creating a small gathering in the corridor.

"Bepo!" Shachi called out, urgency in his voice. The trio quickly made their way to the nearest round table, their faces etched with concern. Penguin took the lead in explaining the afternoon's events between you and Law.

"Captain did what?!"

Bepo's eyes widened with disbelief, almost screaming at the revelation. Shachi shot him a stern look, his finger pressed against his lips, signaling for Bepo to keep his voice down.

"That sounds bad," Bepo remarked, reclining in his chair, arms crossed, and a visible frown etched on his face.

"Bepo," Penguin leaned forward, his arms crossed on the table, "did you see Law a while ago?" he inquired.

"Yeah, right before I got here in the kitchen. He went back to his office," Bepo responded.

"Did you notice anything about him?" Shachi questioned.

"Now that you mention it," Bepo paused, taking a sip of his cold water, "he seemed in deep thought."

"No, he's always like that!" Shachi retorted with a hint of frustration.

"But he seemed sad," Bepo added, his observation hanging in the air like an unspoken truth.

Penguin grunted, placing his right hand on his forehead, a gesture of helplessness.

"He's technically got that poker face every day," he added, acknowledging Law's habitual stoicism.

The Polar Tang bore witness to the trio's hushed conversation. The enigma surrounding Law's emotions deepened, their faces cast in shadows that mirrored the uncertainty of the situation.

Penguin's deep voice cut through the quiet atmosphere.

"There's nothing we could do, for now. But let's keep an eye out for the two," he suggested, a tone of helplessness echoing in his words. The weight of the unspoken emotions surrounding Law and your revelation lingered in the air.

"And Bepo..." Penguin's gaze shifted towards the polar bear mink, a sense of seriousness etched on his face.

"Don't spill this conversation to anyone."

Bepo's eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected directive.

"Why only me? And not Shachi?" he questioned, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

"Because you have the tendency to overshare with anyone," Shachi chimed in, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Fiinnnee!" Bepo sighed, reluctantly agreeing to keep the conversation confidential. The camaraderie between the three crewmates added a touch of humor to the otherwise somber atmosphere.

After the conversation concluded, the trio dispersed, each returning to their respective stations. The corridor, once filled with subdued voices, returned to a quiet solitude, leaving the unresolved tension to echo through the metal walls of the submarine.

CHAPTER 2

#law x you #law x reader #law x y/n #law x female reader #one piece #trafalgar law #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar one piece #law one piece #heart pirates #bepo one piece #shachi one piece #penguin one piece #one piece fanfiction #I've been thinking about this story for so long. I need to write it down NOW.

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fayes-fics · 10 months ago

Text

Innuendo Bingo

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: Crack fic. Modern AU. Someone knows a LOT of stupid synonyms for orgasms...

Warnings: Teen and up. Sexual humour, a lot of stupidity. Non-explicit references to sex acts. Basically, I'm sorry.

Word Count: 0.8k

Authors note: Request fill for @sorryallonsy, who asked for Benedict crack fic with him coming up with stupid names for orgasms (ask HERE). I'm sorry this took SO LONG, especially as it is so short. However, I was in the mood to polish off (heheheh) something silly today, and this was just the ticket. Unbetaed cos it's ridiculous. Thanks, and err, enjoy, I guess? <3

Bridgerton family brunch happens once a month and is always memorable. The family usually takes over some swish eatery in central London for a few hours with their unique brand of noisy, chaotic camaraderie. Being Benedict's girlfriend, you are now a part of this melee. It’s one such Sunday when you are finishing your quite delicious but oversized meal that Benedict leans in.

“I can't wait to have you naked again,” he rumbles right in your ear.

You almost spit your last mouthful all over the table. After a few beats, you recover enough to reply.

“Your mother is right there!” you chastise sotto voce, nodding imperceptibly across the table, pulling a pointed expression, even as your mind is filled with images of him waking you up just this morning with his tongue between your thighs.

“Please,” he withers good-naturedly. “I have seven siblings. Do you really think this libido isn't genetic?” he jests, a hand on your knee now.

“Stop it!” you giggle, not wanting to think of his mother that way.

“Also, she is not paying us any mind,” he points out, crowding closer.

Indeed, she is engrossed in a chat with Kate and has one of Daphne’s kids ensconced in her lap, diverting all her attention.

“Besides, are you telling me you don't want to have another orgasm today?” he goads, lips warm on your neck as those fingers spider higher up your thigh, knowing precisely what your weak spots are and exploiting them.

“Well, now… I didn’t say that…” you counter, eyes fluttering closed briefly at his onslaught. “But I might need a few hours after all this food,” you mime a bloated stomach.

It's his turn to chuckle, a warm sound that skitters over your skin. “That's fair,” he assesses. “Can't be releasing the Kraken if you have a food baby…”

You can't help but emit a bark of laughter at that. Everyone at the table looking briefly askance at you before resuming their discussions.

“The what?” you wheeze.

“You heard me,” he quips warmly. “Don't like that? I've got a million more,” he vows, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Don't…” you warn softly, but that just seems to goad him on.

“Making waffles? Popping the weasel…?”

“Waffles?” you frown, “I thought it was whoopee?”

“That too,” he smiles, eyes crinkling in that adorable way as he continues. “Petting the cat? Nulling the void? You can cuff my carrot, and I’ll dial your rotary phone?” each phrase is delivered full of mirth, close to your ear, and you can't help the stupid grin on your face.

“Stop it,” you protest weakly, nudging him gently with your elbow but having to muffle your laughter into his shoulder.

“I’ll stop when you stop finding them funny…” he counters genially. “Marching the penguin? Downstair DJing? Turning on the sprinklers? Debugging the hard drive?”

Each one has you hopelessly sniggering to the point you can't breathe, and little tears form at the corner of your eyes.

“What in God's name are you doing to your girlfriend, Benedict?” Anthony’s voice suddenly rings out from the head of the table. “It looks like she is about to die… hands where I can see them, please!”

Everyone at the table twists to look at you and laughs as both of you instantly raise your hands as if being held hostage; you mortified by the idea everyone thinks you might be up to things in front of them all, even though you know Anthony is joshing.

But then Benedict murmurs a quiet parting shot out the corner of his mouth.

“Chastising the family… jewels...”

And yeah, your loud snort is definitely undignified.

—

You are back at his place relaxing on the sofa a few hours later - When Harry Met Sally is playing on the TV - when he wraps an arm around your shoulder.

“Fancy doing a Meg Ryan?” he whispers, his tone laced with levity.

“Bit late for that. We left the restaurant a few hours ago,” you sigh in mock disappointment, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“I don't mind a private performance,” he breezes, trailing a hand over your neckline and nuzzling your cheek. “I rather like the idea of watching you paddle your pink canoe….”

Yeah, no, you definitely lose it at that one.

Collapsing into him, your laughter does not even subsidise when he unzips your dress with his practised skill.

“Please… one ticket to the solo show just for me?” he implores, kissing along your jaw. “Visit that safety deposit box? Orbit Venus? A little double-clicking?”

“You are going to need to stop…” you object faintly, an odd mix of lightness from giggling so much and arousal coursing through you as his fingers circle over your underwear.

“Never…..” he teases in that gravelly tone that always persuades you.

“Fine, but only if I can watch you polish your bannister…” you throw back, pushing off your underwear with a comic flourish.

His laugh is deep and all-consuming, racking his whole frame as he suddenly scoops you up and strides towards his bedroom.

“Deal!”

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa @urfavnoirette

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton crack #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton crack #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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naomikozura · 5 months ago

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Playing With Fire: Chapter 3

Jason Todd (Red Hood) x Fem!Reader (Criminal)

Trope: Enemies to Lovers, Forbidden Romance

Warnings: strong language, angst (slight) violence, mention of weapons, use of bombs (slight), use of weapons, bodily violence, attempted murder, drinking, some sexual themes (slight), breaking into homes, stalking (if you squint) (lmk if I missed any!)

WC: 10.7K

Summary: Killing men is almost as easy as seducing them…. almost. Your job to get in contact with Penguin’s potential new partner comes easy, convincing him to work with your side of the crime ring should be simple. Not when a specific someone doesn’t know his boundaries, especially when it comes to your personal affairs.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2 || Chapter 4

Another day, another mission, another raid by the son of a bitch. You had just about enough of his stupid games. You were currently hiding and spying in on one of his hidden locations, trying to dismantle his operations one by one.

You had placed a series of explosives around the shipment he had, planning to destroy it all, and so you waited patiently on the roof of the building just a block away, saying through your goggles and watching as he held his AK-47 in hand and looked over the men packing up the crates for delivery.

You waited a few minutes before you felt the vibration in your wrist go off. Perfect timing. You thought as you watched the crates implode and cause a massive cloud of smoke around all of the men, the explosions getting louder and bigger with each one that detonated. You smirked at yourself.

$100K gone.

You watched as Red’s men scrambled to find the source, his eyes narrowed as he looked up, his eyes meeting yours knowing he had zoomed in his helmet’s software. You smirked at him, waving as he grabbed the sniper off the ground next to him and aiming at you.

Not today motherfucker.

Another explosion went off, causing Red to lose balance, seeing the anger in his body language as you stood and ran off to the other buildings, disappearing as you hid in the night.

You: 1

Red: 0

But your lead was short lived, a few days later you had another run in, this time he found a job you were on. You were trying to get information from another server database, only to find him already there. You saw the hard drive in his hand, chasing after him as he escaped into the underground train system.

You threw a star at him, causing a rip in his thigh but he recovered quickly by shooting at you, slowing you down but missing as you tried catching up to him. You pulled out your own gun, shooting at his feet causing him to trip and you jumped, kicking him in the head and seeing the crack of his helmet. How thick was that thing that could survive so many of your kicks?!

He grabbed your arm, flinging you over his shoulder as your back slammed to the ground with force. You grunted as you tried to stand, his boot connecting with your side as he kicked you towards the ledge of the ramp. Your body struggled to get ahead, but you felt his boot dig into your shoulder, your head leaning over the edge as you struggled.

He was trying to fucking kill you and you were not about ti give him the satisfaction. He leaned down, his knee now digging into your shoulder to hold you in place as his gloved hand grabbed your face, forcing you to look at his ominous stare. His helmet was bright red like blood, and you knew his hands were covered in it. Gotham ran red because of him and he loved it.

“Scared of a little train?”

“More like I’m scared of that ugly face of yours”, you spit out as he wrapped his hand around your throat, cutting off your oxygen supply to make you pass out while forcing your head down over the ledge. Your body was in fight or flight as he slowly started to hold his weight, torturing you with the psychological factor of if he holds you here, you get hit by the train, you die. He was elongating the torture to get at you.

You heard the rumble of the train from the floor, your body going into overdrive. His grip stayed on your throat, slowing crushing your windpipe and causing you to see black points in your vision, the lack of oxygen causing you to almost lose consciousness.

“Come on sweetheart, I know you’ve got more fight in you than this' ', he mocked, your hands trying to loosen his grip, pulling at his hands but his grip only tightened into an iron grip. “I’m sure you’re just as pretty with your head off your shoulders''

The sound of the whistle from the train slowly got louder and louder, your panic setting in but you covered it up well. You reached for your knife, slicing at his arm and maiming his skin. He only sucked in a painful breath, before lifting your body and slamming it against the concrete. You could feel the train getting closer and his intent getting stronger.

You slid your leg in between the two of you, using it to push him off of you and your force pushing you onto the train tracks, your body hitting the heavy metal with force. You couldn’t breathe. You were disoriented. You tried pushing yourself up, your vision hazy.

You tried standing, your body still crouched as the rumble of the train came by. It was about to be here. You needed to get out. Now.

You tried to focus, once you stood you were met with Red pointing his Jericho 941 at you.

“Move and I’ll shoot”, he threatened.

He was forcing you into a corner….

This was his payback for the bomb and the roof.

Fuck!

The train’s headlights shined at you, the blaring honk sounding out and rattling you to your core. Red’s lock on you didn’t falter. You had about five seconds to get out and live or stay and get smashed into nothing.

The train was going at least 200 miles an hour, you waited until it was only a few mere meters before you ducked at the sound of Red’s gun shooting off, the bullet digging into your shoulder as the train sped by, your body launching itself onto the opposing platform. Your arm is burning in pain.

The son of a bitch shot you.

You quickly ran with the train, looking over and seeing Red running alongside you on the opposite side through the gaps in between the cars. You needed to get the hell out of here.

You kept running down the platform, once the train passed completely watching as Red jumped from his side over to yours, the stomp of his boots loud as he bolted towards you.

You had a good gain on him but he was fast. If you could reach the stairs you’d be able to get away from him. But just as you reached the first flight you felt him grab you, pulling you back down and slamming you against the wall.

His helmet got close to your face, his eyes narrowed and you had daggers of your own. You struggled against him, but stopped when he dug his hand into the gunshot wound you had. You let out a scream, the pain burning through your body as the adrenaline pumped through your veins.

“I love making little errand rats scream.” he whispered. “Teaches them to stay in their fucking place”, you lifted your legs, kicking at him as he pulled you down with him, your bodies falling to the ground as he landed on top of you.

“You’re a fighter. I’ll give you that.” you continued trying to get at him, pushing your body out from under him, reaching for your gun only to feel him weigh you down with his body. Forcing your arm behind your back as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pressing down on your throat. “Who said you could leave?”

The position was painful, your injured arm would probably get infected if he didn’t stop fucking with it. You kept trying to move away, your energy running out from the adrenaline wearing off and the pain settling in.

“You need to learn better, Sweetheart. You’re nothing without Penguin behind you”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a fucking child!”, you forced out, your anger still deep in your soul. Your hair stuck to your face because of the sweat, your body shutting down at the wound taking over your senses. Red looked at you before he laughed deeply.

“Black Mask knows what he’s getting into, I wouldn't expect Penguin’s little pet to understand that.”

“L-Let… me- go..”, you choked out, your vocal chords being crushed under the weight of his arm. His crimson covered head moved closer, almost like his mouth was next to your ear.

“Deliver a message to the fat ass you call a boss and that piece of shit Sionis.”, his distorted voice commanded. You felt the air leaving your lungs as you reached a hand up to try and loosen his grip, only to cause him to narrow his eyes and tighten his hold.

“Tell them Gotham will run red soon. And it won’t be my blood painting the city if they decide to refuse my demands.”.

Your eyes nearly closed due to the lack of oxygen, but after a few seconds you felt your body get tossed to the ground like a rag doll. You tried to catch your breath but you felt weak, you had been deprived of air for too long. All you saw was that red helmet looking down at you before he disappeared, the pain flowing through your body as you gave into the tiredness and the extent of your wounds.

•

Soreness overtook your body, the timing in your ears causing your head to hurt. You forced your eyes open only to see the empty underground train station. Nothing but dried blood on the ground from your shoulder wound. You pushed yourself up, your shoulder burning as the pain shot through your body. Your arm was sore and burned, it left you frustrated. You wanted to find the son of a bitch and rip his eyes out.

Red would meet his match, you just needed to hit him when he was at his weakest, catch him off guard. You knew you’d have the upper hand and it would be the only way to get him to buckle.

Your goal was to take him down and it would give you everything. The bounty. The protection. The reputation. You would be the one who took down the Red Hood. You would have it all and you wouldn’t need Penguin’s name for anything anymore.

You pushed yourself off the ground, your arm limp as a wave of pain flooded you again. You needed to clean the wound and wrap it, the fucker probably risked getting it infected.

You pulled yourself through the streets, your legs shaky but you found your way back to your apartment, stripping your body of your bloody clothes and hopping into the shower. You let the warm water rinse off all the sweat, blood, and dirt from your body, the steam covering you in a comforting blanket. Your head hung under the water, your arm feeling better under the warmth. You had a few other cuts and sore spots that you knew would leave bruises but nothing else worried you. You needed to disinfect and wrap your arm, rest was also on the agenda since you’d been up for almost 26 hours before you ran into Red and had him knock you out.

You wrapped yourself in a towel and stepped out of the shower an hour later, your body relaxed after having so much built up tension. You cleaned all your wounds and wrapped your arm after pouring alcohol and ointment on it.

Once you were done, you let yourself fall on the bed, wearing only your underwear and an oversized t-shirt. Your head lolled to the side, noting the time.

It was barely 6am.

You could probably get a few hours of sleep before heading to the Lounge. You set the alarm, letting your eyes close and fall into a slumber from exhaustion and not being suffocated. You needed rest. Your eyes closed as the sun had barely started rising.

“It looks a lot better than it did a few days ago. Just keep putting the medicine on it and keep it wrapped”, the doctor said as he finished wrapping your arm. The soreness is still present after three days.

Penguin had taken you off patrol to recover from your fight with Red. It gave you the perfect time to go in and work on the Calvi case. It required no real physical activity and your arm was still healing so it was the better option.

You slid your top back over your head, slowly guiding your arm through the sleeve and rolling it to loosen the stress.

The day continued as normal, Penguin giving you intel, you finding more information on Calvi, and eventually making it through to find out where his routine spots were.

You managed to get dressed for the night, letting Penguin know your communications wouldn’t be as frequent in order to successfully pull this through.

The mid thigh dress loosely hung on your body, tight enough to show your figure but loose enough to make your curves smooth delicately. Your hair framing your face in a loosely done blowout. Your make up was simple, but you applied a dark red lipstick making your lips appear more seductive. It was always the best way to get men to give you everything you wanted.

You had made your way to Upper Gotham, calling a private car to take you to the Sapphire. An upscale, luxury club that only elite members could enter into. Luckily for you, you managed to bypass the system and register yourself as a top paying member, as well as getting you the exclusive induction card that only elite members had. No one knew what it looked like except those members. Luckily for you getting yours wasn’t too hard. Just a couple strings pulled and boom, you had it.

You walk up to the concierge, sliding your card as the screen flashes green and she lets you walk by. You followed into the main hall, the room full of all kinds of people from every rich family in the city. You recognized businessmen, stock brokers, luxury goods traders, liquor tyrants, everyone who was anyone would come to the club. Especially during the weekend once the offices closed.

You skimmed the room quickly, your outfit helping you blend into the crowd and gave off a silent luxury appeal, not too loud, but not too obviously fake. The dress was simple, classy, and anyone with a good eye could recognize the vintage piece from a mile away. You needed to blend in after all.

You moved through the room, your eyes keeping focused on the bar as you sat on one of the stools, leaning forward as the bartender placed a napkin down, asking for your drink order. You quickly told him a glass of the house red, you didn’t need to be inebriated tonight. You needed to focus.

Once the bartender returned, you picked up the glass and sipped the bold drink as you let the taste seep into your tastebuds. It was rich even for a house wine.

There were a few men playing chess at the table across the room, each one focused on calculative thoughts before moving a piece across the board. You always knew that life was like a game of chess. The better at the game, the better you were at playing your cards in real life. It wasn’t hard to navigate anything, though it required training and skill. Something you had spent the last six years trying to perfect. It was airtight. At least, as close to it as you could possibly get.

A form moving from the entrance caught your eye. He had dark hair that was slicked back, a dark suit fitted to his body that almost melded perfectly. He was tall, built, and had an aura of sophistication floating around him.

Calvi.

He walked over to the men playing chess, shaking their hands as you focused in on what they could possibly be talking about. They all laughed and you tried to make yourself not stand out for staring so long. The glass of wine touched your lips again before setting it down, pushing a strand of hair out of your face as you made eye contact with him. His eyes focused on you as you moved your hair back, reeling him in just like you wanted.

He excused himself, motioning to the bar and the men nodded, continuing their game as you swiveled back towards the counter and feeling his gaze on your back like a burning fire.

Too easy.

“Is this seat taken?’, his deep voice rang out, looking up you noticed his dark eyes held intent in them, strong and committed.

“No. Go ahead.”, you motioned softly as you let your hair fall over your shoulder as you watched him with hooded eyes.

“Whisky. Neat, please.”, he motioned to the bartender as he quickly nodded, starting to prepare his drink. Once the drink was set in front of him, he took a sip then turned towards you. “I’ve never seen you here before. Are you new?”

“I am. My name is Vivian”, you responded before taking another sip of your wine. “Got an invite from a colleague of mine, said this is one of the most exclusive clubs in Gotham and figured I had to check it out after getting such a kind invite.”

“It’s the most exclusive and holds all the most influential people in Gotham.”, he mentioned before leaning back smoothly, his confidence radiating off his body. It was a good thing he was attractive because this would be so much harder if he wasn’t. “My name is Calvi Calbera”.

“So, I take it that you’re a part of Gotham’s influential elite?”, your eyes couldn’t have held more seductiveness to them even if you tried, his body language giving away that you had him reeled in.

“Probably one of the most influential.”, he smirked, bringing his glass to his lips before setting it down gently on the counter. “I work in the luxury goods market. Seems to bring in a lot of revenue when you work with… delicacies.”

“Any ones in particular that you like?”

“Diamonds. They’re the most expensive and most worth the investment.”, you didn’t miss how his eyes trailed down your body, your dress clinging to your curves and the smooth skin of your legs showing off as you crossed them slightly. It didn’t take a genius to guess what he was thinking of. “You should come by my estate. We can talk more about them in private, in the comfort of a home.”

You wanted to cringe at his offer. His estate. You just remembered exactly why you hated the majority of the rich people in Gotham. You forced your face to stay neutral, your eyes flickering to your glass before taking the last sip of the wine.

“If you have some good red, and something worthwhile, I’ll consider it.”, you placed a hand on his knee, smiling at him with a sweet look on your face. Sweet yet seductive. It made him latch onto the bait. He leaned in, taking out a business card and handing it to you.

“Here’s the address, come on Saturday. When you arrive tell them you have an appointment with me.”, his voice was laced with lust, you could even see the tightness of his pants. You just did your finishing move, looking at his eyes before flickering quickly to his lips, then quickly back to his gaze seeing the growing darkness in his hues. Your face leaned into his, your hand moving slowly up his leg and slightly on his thigh.

“I look forward to it.”, you smiled at him, grabbing your purse and leaving a $100 on the counter before walking away, his eyes on you as you walked out confidently but slowly so he could reel more into the trap you laid out.

Once you reached the outside of the building, your car pulled up, the valet opening the door as you stepped inside and got comfortable. You gave the driver your address as he started following his GPS.

You looked at the card Calvi gave you, looking at the information and finding out his estate was about 30 minutes outside of the main parts of the city. Gotham Heights. The rich and powerful all lived on this side of the city.

You committed to memorizing the address, tucking it into your purse as the driver arrived at your complex, tipping the driver before heading up the elevator and pushing through the door of your apartment.

It was late, looking at the clock as it read 10pm.

You really shouldn’t have stayed so long but the time seemed to pass a lot faster when the jobs involved going undercover versus being in the field. You liked infiltrating others’ lives and playing the part even for just a few hours. It brought some insight to the life you’d never have.

Kicking off your heels, you rubbed the backs of your feet, ankles red from walking in them for the evening. You never sported heels often but you did so enough that it was easy enough to walk in them. They still hurt your feet though.

A small noise snapped you to attention, pulling out your gun from the drawer in the kitchen, just one of many you had stashed throughout the apartment. You slowly did a walk through, looking closely at each of the rooms, looking through everything as you finished out the closets in the living room and moved into the bedroom.

The lights were off. Nothing seemed out of place.

You slowly moved towards the restroom, checking the closet, in the shower, hell even the cabinets even though logically a human couldn’t fit in there. You relaxed slightly, walking back into the bedroom, the darkness looming from outside as the night got darker.

Just as you began to walk out of the room, you noticed something.

One of the vases you had filled with water was knocked over…

What the hell?

The feeling of rough hands gripping your arm sent you into fight mode, struggling against the person assaulting you as you tried to hit them with the bottom of the gun. Their grip tightened, forcing your hand to release the gun before you felt your body get thrown on the bed and shoved into the mattress.

Just as you began to curse at them, a large hand clamped over your mouth, that familiar red helmet bringing an anger in your bones.

“Shhh, don’t want to wake the neighbors now do we?”, he muttered.

Your eyes glared daggers at him, wishing they were real so he could suffer from the cuts. Your body was stuck under his, his muscular legs holding your body in place as the rest of his frame was being held up by one arm. He was huge compared to you. His body radiating a heat that left your skin on fire. You felt exposed. You weren’t wearing anything but a measly dress, your chest almost flush against his.

“You sure do make it believable enough that you’re one of them.”, he had a mocking tone to his voice, your body still trying to thrash against him but to no avail. “Now, what are you doing at Sapphire talking to Calvi Calbera?”

Before he made another move, you kicked him in the groin, hard enough to make him double over and loosen his grip on you. It was more than enough time to shove him to the ground, grabbing the dagger that was hidden under your dresser and getting on top of him, your knees holding down his arms as you held the dagger to his throat.

“How the hell did you find where I live?!”, you bit out, your breath uneven as you felt the rush of adrenaline in your body. “How did you get in?!”

“Sweetheart, I’m a detective. I can find anything out about anyone in this city whenever I want. Even you.”, his eyes narrowed as a way to taunt you causing your jaw to clench in irritation as you brought your face closer to his and staring at him with murder in your eyes.

“How. Did. You. Get. In.”, you repeated, this time more serious and the knife pricking his skin, the small trickle of blood running down the side of his neck.

“Window, doll.”, he motioned slightly with a small cock of his head. “You didn’t lock it.”

You turned to look at the window, noticing the lock was intact, not broken. If he broke in, the lock wouldn’t look like it was brand new and yet it was. Had you really forgotten to lock it? You looked at the window before turning back to Red, confusion quickly covered up with frustration.

“You have no right coming to my home.”

“I wasn’t asking for an invite.” , you leaned back slightly, the weight of your legs on his arms lifting as you felt him sit up, your body still sitting on his as you glared at him. He didn’t make any sudden movements, just held your gaze as you held the knife to his throat still.

“Why are you here?”, you asked, about to pull yourself off of him before his hand grabbed a handful of your hair, gripping it and forcing you to look at him.

“You need to learn your place. That’s why I’m here.”, he pulled you closer to his helmet, his eyes boring into yours. “You cost me $100k. On a good shipment batch. I think I’ll have to send a message back to the fat bird to get my point across to not fuck with me.”

“You have tried killing me every time we’ve run into each other for the past month!”, you fought back, his grip tightening.

“Don’t act like the feeling isn’t mutual”, he breathed.

“I have a job to do. Killing you gets me out of this fucking city”, you struggled against him, trying to make him release his grip.

“And you’ve failed every time. Why is that sweetheart? What are you hiding?”

“Fuck. Off.”, you bit out.

Why was he testing you?

He had an open shot to snap your neck, he could just do it and get it over with.

“Does it have to do with Black Mask? You seem to hold a resentment when all he wants is your attention”

“I don’t care about what he wants. I don’t give a damn about him.”

His gaze held yours, feeling his hand go slack as you pushed yourself off of him. You threw the knife on the dresser, rolling your arm from the soreness. He watched you as you moved, his eyes skimming over your body as your back was turned to him.

What was your motive? Why did you let him go?

The question whirled in his head as you turned, staring at him as he remained exposed on the floor. He wasn’t vulnerable, he had everything he needed to disable you, yet he didn’t move.

“Leave. Now.”

“So bossy”, he muttered as he stood, his frame towering over you. Your body moved back as he pressed you against the nightstand, his arms on either side of your body as he caged you in. “What’s going on in that head of yours? Why let me go when your job is to kill me?” he mummed, cocking his head in turn.

“Spite”, was all you said, the seconds ticking by as he let out a deep chuckle before pushing back and heading towards the window he’d climbed in through, pushing himself out and leaving.

There was an emptiness that flooded the room, but you couldn’t quite place it. Red was getting too comfortable with just showing up into your life whenever he wanted. What was he hiding? What was he up to?

You slipped out of your dress, changing into an oversized shirt and leaving nothing but underwear on as you tied your hair up and washed your face. You stared at yourself for a moment in the mirror, a flood of emotion overwhelming you as you reached to touch the necklace around your neck.

Would everything be different if you were still here?

The memories flooded you, every pact you made to never become a part of this life entering your mind. Would you have been swept away and been out of Gotham had he come back?

“You do realize that Batman will kill me if he found out about this?”, Robin said as you and him snuck through the city, reaching another rooftop that just peered over the water.

“C’mon it’ll be fine, besides when do you ever see fireworks that aren’t because of some criminal trying to create a diversion?”, you laughed as he rolled his eyes.

“Good point.”, he smiled, following as you stood on the ledge, watching as the countdown sounding out went down a second at a time.

“Okay Gotham, let’s get ready for our 10-second countdown!” you heard the announcer over the speaker say as the crowd chanted.

“5! 4! 3! 2!….1!”, the onslaught of fireworks and sparklers lit up the night, the crowd screaming, shouting, celebrating the coming of the New Year.

You looked at the fireworks, your eyes glowing at the sight. It’d be the first time you’ve seen them in such a way. celebratory fashion.

“Aren’t they-“, your words got cut off at the feeling of Robin grabbing your face, planting a kiss on your lips and bringing you closer to him. You melted into him, his hands tightening around your waist. He flooded your senses, your entire body falling into his charm, his humor, his intelligence, his heart, his everything.

He pulled away from the kiss, his forehead resting on yours as he stared at you.

“Happy New Year (Y/n)”, he whispered as you smiled against his lips.

“Happy New Year, Rob”, you whispered back.

If only times were as simple as they once were. Nothing was ever as it seemed and that was the reality of your situation. Everything would always fade away from you, only leaving yourself to get out alive.

What a foolish thing to believe in at such a young age. You were only 15, him 16. There was too much of life to live to assume that moment could stay isolated in time forever. You could only hope.

Turning off the faucet, you went back to bed, laying down as you looked out the window and took in the light from the moon, a part of you feeling like someone was watching.

You looked at the lock, lifting yourself up to close it but freezing in the process. You couldn’t explain why but you settled back into bed.

The lock on the window still left open.

You had finalized the steps of your plan, fixing your hair as you pinned a few pieces up and left others to frame your face. It gave you a delicate look, softened your features and gave you a sort of edge. It was dark, sultry.

Spraying a few pumps of your perfume on your neck and wrists, you took one last look in the mirror. You looked sexy, seductive, like any man would fall at your feet. It gave you a boost of confidence as you grabbed your small clutch off the counter, ensuring your dagger was hidden at the bottom with a decent amount of cash, your wallet, lipstick, and your gun. It was along the lining but the bulge was hidden thanks to the other items in your bag.

It took about 20-30 minutes to reach Calvi’s estate, watching as the mansion pulled into view. It was beautiful, and the architecture was gothic but with a light twist of old money and class. It was bright, the reflection from the setting sun making it glow beautifully. There was a garden in the front as the gates opened, the driver buzzing in at the entrance as you showed your identification. Fake identification at that.

The car pulled into the driveway that wrapped around a fountain. It was made of marble, and had beautiful carvings in the stone. It was so intricate you could’ve sworn it might’ve been made by a renaissance sculptor.

The door opened as one of the butlers pulled it away from the car, holding a hand for you to grab onto as you thanked them, a soft smile thrown in their direction.

You walked up the staircase, Calvi waiting for you in his fitted suit, his hair freshly cut and his hands in his pockets as he smiled at you. He extended a hand, taking yours in his as he pressed a kiss on your knuckles.

Chivalry isn’t dead after all.

His eyes did a quick skim of your body, the dress you wore hugging your figure perfectly, the back being exposed to show some skin. It had a pearl chain that hung loosely in the back, but overall the entire ensemble was more than enough to lure him in.

He led you down the hall, the walls covered in old art and the tables filled with flowers, probably thanks to his housing staff. It was unique, grand, over the top yet simple and calming at the same time. You’d been in Gotham Heights’ homes before, but none really drew you in like this one was right now. Calvi had taste, or at least the person who selected his decor had taste.

A flash of blue caught your eye, you stopped as you looked at it. Perfectly marked shades of yellow contrast against the blue, it was beautiful. Something you’d never imagined you’d see.

“Is this real?”, you asked, your eyes glued to the painting.

“Every piece in this house is real, my dear.”

Your head tilted as you soaked in the work of art in front of you. The impressionism was well done, though you knew the history behind the piece.

“You like Van Gogh?”Calvi hummed next to you.

You paused for a moment, soaking in admiration at the lilies in the painting. Each stroke is simple, delicate, and impactful. Van Gogh definitely had a mind far beyond comprehension. You closed your eyes, turning to Calvi and smiling at him.

“No. Not at all actually.”, you responded as you followed him down the hall.

“You like to read?”, you laughed as you grabbed one of the books Robin had brought with him.

“Yeah, I read a lot of Jane Austen, Virginia Woolf too.”, he flipped through some of the pages, almost like he was examining the book as you read the back of the book in your hand.

“How exactly did you get into reading?”

Robin shrugged. “I guess all that free time sneaking into libraries paid off.” he handed you a fry, biting down on it as you finished reading the back of the hardcover. “What about you? Do you like reading?”

“Mmm, no. But the family has a lot of cool paintings around the house. Sometimes I look up what they are and learn about the history of it. I think Rembrant and Van Gogh are my favorites.”

“Yeah? Art history. Almost as cool as Literature”

“It’s way cooler than Literature”, you smirked at him as he rolled his eyes behind his mask.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s your favorite and why?”, he leaned back on his hands, watching as you sat in your thoughts for a few moments, contemplating an answer before lighting up in excitement.

“Oh! Definitely a Vase with irises against a yellow background.”

“Jesus, who the hell gave it that long name?”

You shoved his shoulder playfully before grabbing another fry from the small basket he’d brought with him. He often brought burgers and fries for the two of you to share while you caught up for the week. He was able to see you more frequently compared to when you first met a few months ago.

“Van Gogh did, and it’s a great work of art. It’s an impressionist painting. He did it while he was in the psych clinic. I think it’s actually one of the last paintings he ever did before he died. Anyway, I just really like it. The contrast makes it even more interesting to look at because blue and yellow are such bright happy colors and yet, you understand the emotion he felt. A lot of people think it symbolizes his desire to escape, leave the asylum and never look back.”

“Is that why you like it? Because he wanted to escape and never look back?”, you knew exactly why he asked, your heart tugging in your chest as you met his eye line.

“Yeah, I guess so.”, you confessed, “But, I’ve been wanting to escape a lot less recently.”

Robin smiled at you softly, your eyes staring at him with gratitude. He really had made Gotham worthwhile. He made everything worthwhile.

“Yeah, me too.”

“And this is our sitting room. I usually bring guests in to sit and share a drink while we talk over business, personal matters, or just anything life throws at us.”

You snapped back to reality at the sound of Calvi’s voice. You forced yourself to tuck away the thought of the past, focusing on the task at hand. He led you into the room, motioning at the butler inside to fetch some drinks. You sat down gently on the couch, watching as he grabbed the two glasses from the waiter and handed one to you.

“Our Finest red.”, he motioned as you took a sip of the wine.

It was rich, full and sweet. You didn’t know a red could be sweet and yet, here it was. It tasted magnificent.

"So, Vivian.”, he put his arm on the headrest behind you. “A penny for your thoughts?”

“Just wondering how you managed to get such a beautiful home, I’m feeling quite jealous.”, you smiled at him, sipping your glass once again.

“My family works in luxury goods, but after the passing of my parents I figured I could use my investments… differently.”

“Differently?”, you cocked an eyebrow.

“There is a whole other side to the Gotham business than you realize, my dear.”, he leaned in.

I realize more than you do asshole.

“Should I be worried?”, you leaned forward, gently placing a hand on his knee, his eyes flickering with pride.

“I’ll share so long as you can keep it a secret?”, Oh. He was dying to impress you. You could see it all over his body language. Calvi was a smart man, filthy rich, and even had questionable business practices. You needed to see if he truly played a hand in Gotham’s underground like Penguin’s intel had stated. If he did, getting him to partner with the Boss would be a lot easier than you thought.

“If it makes you feel better… I’ll share a secret first. Even the playing field.”, you ran your hand along his tie, fixing it to lay flat on his dress shirt and under the suit he had on. Your eyes met his dark ones as he watched you intently.

“Please share..”, his lips remained parted as he watched your movements, you could tell his heart was beating faster just by the looks of him.

You leaned forward, your face inches from his before you parted your lips, your mouth strategically close to his for effect. “I have a thing for men with a little… edge to them.” you whispered, recognizing the flicker in his eyes the moment you spoke. “You’ve reeled me in, can you get me hooked?”

“I can get you more than just hooked, baby.”, he moved towards you, “I’ll get you addicted.”

You lifted a hand, tracing his jaw slightly, your lips softly grazing his as you pushed him against the couch, throwing your legs over his as you sat up, melding your body close to his.

“So then, enlighten me.”

His hand landed on your thigh, his fingers squeezing a bit before he spoke, the tension growing by the second. “I have connections with the trades on the East side of Gotham. A few business partners help me invest my money where money never ends. I get protection, money, and reputation. All I do is invest and help them make shipments then I make more income than the majority of the people at Sapphire.”

Bingo. He confirmed what you needed to know. If he already had connections with the underground, who were they with?

“Sounds dangerous.”, you fed the bait slowly.

“It keeps money in my pockets, keeps the business alive. Gotham’s underground is a never ending flow of money”

You felt his hand trail up your thigh, the skin growing cold as he pushed your dress up slightly. His eyes tried to dig into yours, but your facade was bulletproof. No one could break you or make you show your true self. Calvi would never even come close to doing so.

The knock on the room door broke the moment much to your satisfaction. Calvi closed his eyes in annoyance, calling out for the guest to come in. Two tall men came in, dressed in all black and wearing a headset. You moved away from Calvi as he stood, walking over to the men as they talked in whispers with him. You committed every part of their appearance to memory, from the clothing they wore, the brand of the headset, to the miniscule scars they had that almost seemed like a branding symbol. You stowed it away in the capsule in your head to later jot down for future reference.

“Vivian.”Calvi turned towards you as you rose from the couch, fixing the small part of your dress that rose a centimeter. “I’m afraid something has come up that requires my attention. I’ll fetch a car for you but please, we need to finish our conversation next time.”

You looked up at him with innocence in your eyes, simply nodding before placing a soft kiss on his cheek, placing a gentle hand on his arm before you went down the corridor to the outside where the car waited for you. You had given your address to the driver and he dropped you off at your complex, leaving you to push through the doors and crash on the bed.

Once you hit the sheets you let out a sigh of relief. God, why was this so taxing? What information did this man have that was so important to Penguin when there were a hundred other men who had the same connections that the boss could do business with? The act of questioning the boss wasn’t an option though, so instead you continued with your assignment as normal.

The next few weeks proved to be normal, simple, barely any information of use. The whole job seemed lackluster, almost a waste of your time but you needed to convince Calvi to work with Penguin. It would be the biggest asset in getting your payout.

That was the goal for your upcoming visit after all.

2 Weeks Later

Entering the location Calvi had given you gave you an edge, it was a club. Mid-level. It was where all of the crooked men of Gotham came to dip into the pool of the underground. It also happened to be one of the investments that Calvi had on the East side. It was similar to the Lounge, though the clientele were more Upper Gotham trying to hide in the shadows.

You walked into the room with seductive confidence, your aura radiating pure lust, seduction, and darkness. You walked to the back of the club, feeling some of the men look at you as you passed by. They would always be enamored by you, all the brainless men in the underground were. They never knew who you were, never knew your name or your looks because you did good in presenting yourself entirely differently each time.

DIfferent hair, different makeup, different energy. Needless to say, they all fell for it every single time. Your dress hugged your figure, stopping mid thigh and carving out your curves to be more prominent, your long, dark hair falling down your back as you fixed your earrings that had dangling strands as you reapplied your dark red lipstick. Seduction was the game and you were the physical embodiment of the word.

You walked up to the red door down the hall, a tall bulky man standing in front of the door as he stared at your body, his eyes roaming and taking you in. You internally smirked at how easy men were to manipulate.

“I have a meeting with Calvi, my name is Vivian.”, you lied through your teeth as the guard grunted and walked inside the room, only to open the door for you a few moments later. “Thank you.”, your lips pulled into a perfect red smile as you walked by him, looking into the room and taking in your surroundings.

The room had a dark atmosphere but was lit by dim lights around the room. A couch in the middle of the room with two solo seating seats, a glass table in the middle with a glass bottle of what seemed like whiskey on the tray on top, two glasses complimenting the bottle. You took in the velvet colors on the furniture, the paintings on the walls adding nice accents as the door on the very end of the room opposite of the main door opened.

“Vivian.”, he smiled at the sight of you, a few men surrounding him as they played poker. They all looked familiar. Probably those men from Sapphire he played chess with. He placed a gentle hand on your back, leading you to the couch as the men watched you intently. “I’m glad you made it.” his suave voice rang out, deep but sophisticated, full of authority.

He had his dark hair slicked back, a dark suit fitted to his body that probably cost him a couple thousands of dollars, his bold gold watch wrapped around his wrist as he walked towards you adjusting his cuffs. He radiated a type of energy that would leave a normal woman at his feet, begging to be taken by him. Your eyes zeroed in on him, taking him in with your dark hues, letting the second round of the game begin.

“Thank you for inviting me, I’ve been looking forward to hearing from you again.”, you sat down as you looked up at him, your stare innocently seductive. He dropped a smile at you, one that could make anyone swoon after him, but you knew his background and you needed to play your cards right in order to convince this man fully.

You watched as he walked to the far side of the room, near the small bar area. “Any wine?”

“Château Lafite Rothschild, if you have it”,

“I love a woman with expensive taste.” he pulled out a bottle which left an impressive look on your face. “1998, it’s more aged.”

He poured your wine before pouring his own Whiskey into a glass and walking over to you, handing you the wine before sitting next to you. You opened your body up to him, not letting him take a hint of your body language being too closed off.

He turned his body to face you, his arm on the head of the couch and his leg crossed over his other. He exuded dominant energy even in a position of relaxation. You weren’t naive though, you knew he was always on guard, especially working with the criminals of Gotham on a regular basis. Anyone could call a hit on him, it made sense he didn’t let his guard down completely.

“I really appreciate aged wine, it’s more of a delicacy so it’s nice when someone actually has it around.”, you smiled at him, his eyes focused on you while you noticed his friends skimming your legs. God these men. So easy to manipulate.

“I wanted to ask about a painting, actually.”, you asked truthfully.

“Anything for you Vivian.”, his full focus was on you, before he motioned for his men to kick out his guests, all the men leaving in a file line as the music from the club slowly leaked into the backroom and his guards stood outside the door. The two of you now alone.

“I want to see how much it would cost to get a Monet in hand. One that has a good price on it.”, his eyes flickered with interest at the mention of the French artist. He had to know how to source one one way or another.

“Which painting are you wanting to inquire about?”

“I’ve wanted to own an authentic version of Le Bassin Aux Nymphéas.”, you said confidently, trying to gauge his interest.

“My dear, it's an $80 million painting.”

“I just.. Wanted to see how much it would take to get it. I have the funds to back up my inquiry.” you played with his tie, smoothing out the folds of his suit.

“I know it’s a difficult piece to acquire, I would need someone to endorse my interests and hold power over the transactional process. I couldn’t think of anyone better than you”, you slowly placed your hand on his chest, letting him soak in your touch. You felt the way his body reacted slightly to you, his heart skipping a beat. You looked into his eyes, seeing that same lustful emotion run through his body. You could see the tightening in his jaw, his hand clenching slightly on the couch.

You noticed the immediate intrigue in his expression. Even he knew the process of getting such a painting would be difficult, expensive and timely. He had a strong hand in the world of luxury goods, his entire business and company focused on the foreign trade of luxury goods and rare objects for high profile clients. This was just another job he would be able to make by pulling black market strings. Everyone in the real world knew Calvi as the charming, handsome CEO of a luxury goods company, but the underground knew him as a black market ring leader. What he made in the underground quadrupled in 6 months what he made in a year in his company. To say he was wealthy would be an understatement.

“What made you so interested in an $80 million painting?”

“I want it for my personal collection. I want it to be desired, taken care of, protected”, your voice flowed through your lips smoothly, your body leaning into Calvi’s as you played softly with his collar, your fingers tracing lines on his suit. Your eyes focused on his tie before meeting his eyes and seeing the absolute craze happening inside of him. His brown eyes stared at you with lust, desire, control, and you knew you were playing your game well.

“I want it to be treated, the way any timeless rarity, any delicate precious luxury should be treated.”, his hand found its way to your leg, rubbing soft circles on your skin as you played your cards. You stared at his lips, then flashed back up to his eyes, letting yourself soak into the moment, letting him slowly unravel underneath your spell. Calvi’s eyes focused on your eyes, then down to your lips, the bright color of your red lips slowly drawing him in.

“You know how to do that don’t you? How to take care of.. Precious delicacies?”, you whispered against his lips, almost pressing against yours as he breathed. You let your hand lay on his chest as the other landed on his hand on your leg. Checkmate.

“I know more than just simply taking care of them, my dear.”, he breathed as he closed the gap between the two of you, his lips savagely consuming you, your hand on his chest as he pushed you against the couch. His hand reached into your hair, tightening as he deepened the kiss, his tongue battling it out with yours as you felt his skin catch on fire. He had been wanting to devour you since you first met a month ago, and now, he was a mindless pawn in your game to get what you wanted. You played the part well, you knew it would be far too easy to get someone like him to fall to his knees for you. It only took a month, but it worked.

“Boss.”

Calvi pulled away, his hand still tangled in your hair as you opened your eyes and met his, his hues full of lust and need. Only after a second, he turned to his guard.

“What is it?”, his voice was filled with irritation.

“I hate to interrupt, but you have a visitor.”, the guard let out. “He’s here for business”

“Tell him to come back tomorrow”, Calvi turned to you again, his eyes taking in your swollen lips and dark eyes. Empty eyes but he didn’t need to know how void of emotion you were.

“Sir.”, the guard pressed before saying something that even you couldn’t ignore. “It’s the Red Hood.”

You felt your blood run cold, forcing yourself to remain calm at the mention of his name. You noticed how Calvi almost immediately snapped into attention. He looked at his guard, nodding and telling him to give him five minutes before bringing him in. He fixed his suit and his hair, wiping off the red stain that was on his lips as you fixed your hair and your dress.

“I didn’t know you had company.”, you said as you watched him. “I can come back another time.”

“Nonsense, my dear. It’ll be quick business, then we can get back to our… discussion about your inquiry on the Monet.”

As he finished, the door opened again, your eyes panned over to the other man standing at the door. A wall of pure, solid muscle covered completely in kevlar, daggers, and guns. A black motorcycle jacket on his upper half and dark combat boots, his bright red helmet making a statement as he entered. He completely flooded your senses with his intensity and dominance. You stared at him as he looked into the room, but you knew he was glaring daggers at you from under his helmet. When didn’t he completely despise anything you did?

“Red Hood. It’s a pleasure to have you here.” Calvi spoke confidently, his hand motioning towards the seat in front of the couch as he sat down next to you. You noticed the slits where his eyes should be narrow slightly no doubt recognizing what you and Calvi were doing. Your hair was a bit messy, and your lips were swollen. To anyone else they would have ignored it. But Red caught it immediately.

“What can I help you with?”

“I don’t mean to interrupt your… affairs, but I have an order to make”, Red’s deep, distorted voice rang out as he glared at Calvi’s hand slightly touching you from the top of the couch. Your eyes narrowed at him and even not being able to see his expression, you knew he was pissed. “I need 4 shipments of Fear Toxin and Miraclo, and two shipments holding AK47s, MFA1 Carbines, and M1928s.”

“When do you need your shipments?”

“Next week.”, Red stood with his arms crossed, staring at you then back at Calvi. You sent him looks filled with annoyance and frustration. You wanted nothing more than to be able to punch him in the jaw. “We have work that needs to be done.”

A subtle threat only meant for you.

What was he planning?

“It’ll be a tight schedule, but I’ll make sure it gets here in 3 days time. I’ll give you your total statement then to ensure payment is processed and received.”

“Good, now, get home Calvi.”, he ordered. You nearly scoffed at how you just witnessed the Red Hood give the king of the black market orders.

“Excuse me?”, Calvi questioned. “Get home? Are you my mother now?”

“No, but I am the guy keeping protection on your little operations, so if you want our contract to not be void, I suggest you listen. I won’t repeat myself twice.”

So Red was his contact. No wonder Calvi seemed well composed and confident in himself. Red was giving him all the protection he needed along with the pay for sourcing weapons for him. Foreign goods. Yeah, those militant weapons were foreign alright.

Calvi stared at him, letting the seconds pass and the tension grow, before standing and fixing his suit. “It’s a pleasure as always Hood. Vivian, let’s go, my dear.”

“The girl leaves. You won’t be needing her to help you get home.”

Calvi narrowed his eyes, your position still sitting on the couch. You felt your body fill with overwhelming anger, you wanted to kill the Red Hood more than anything but you couldn’t give up your facade of the calm, collected woman you were right now. You’d have to deal with him later.

“Vivian, I’ll get my driver to-”

“I’ll make sure she gets a ride.”, Red interrupted him. “I’ll have your guard get her a cab.”

Calvi clenched his teeth, his jaw flexing as you stood and walked over to him. You swayed your hips purposely to get a rise out of the masked vigilante, reaching your hands to touch Calvi’s face.

“I can get home. I look forward to continuing our discussion when we’re able to, okay?”, Calvi grunted in agreement before you gave him a kiss on the cheek, keeping your touch on him longer than you normally would just to get a rise out of the man burning holes into your back. You walked past Red Hood, walking out the door and getting in your cab. You were silent the entire way home, letting yourself bask in the anger eating you alive as you tried to calm down.

You entered your apartment angrily, throwing your clutch on the counter before shoving the heels off your feet.

Who did he think he was?!

God, you were on the right track, you have Calvi wrapped around your finger and of course, it’s him that Calvi has ties with. Now your entire plan was set back thanks to the infuriating red vermin.

You placed your hands on the counter, leaning forward as you stared at the ground. You needed to breathe. Relax. You could not let him get to you. Especially not like this.

Was this payback for the past month of you raiding his jobs? For making him lose all that money? He already wanted to kill you and you him, but why did him barging in on your jobs piss you off even more? You’d rather he just put the bullet in your head and call it a day than have to deal with the anger that flooded your veins every time you saw him.

“You really know how to play the part of seductress don’t you?”, that deep, distorted voice ripped you out of your focus. You felt the anger rise in you again. You turned to look at him, all 225 pounds of him, with his overwhelming presence, his annoying glare as he stared at your form. You were still wearing your dress, your hair still done and your makeup still flawless. And yet, the ugly side of you was about to come out and go head to head with this man.

“Get out of my apartment, Red.”, you bit out, the venom lacing your voice.

“What were you planning on doing? Seducing him?”, he pressed, his voice had an edge to it. “Were you going to reel him in? Get him under your spell so he would do you favors?”

“I said, get out!”, you turned to look at him, your eyes red with fury, your skin burning in irritation, and your heart pounding as you stood in front of him, looking up due to the obvious height difference. Red started to walk towards you, forcing you against the wall as he raised his arm to trap you against his muscular form and the brick. You wanted to fucking kill him.

“Were you going to let him have his way with you?”, he lowered his head, his voice deeper than it was before, the edge growing sharper. There was something dark in his voice, dangerous, full of instability. Your jaw clenched as you tried shoving him away, punching his chest as you shoved your face in his, the hate evident like you were an angered bull.

“Let him be taken by you? Let him touch you, use you, maybe even let him fuck you?”, You punched him again, shoving your hands into his chest as you pushed out of his grasp, snapping at him when he tried to touch you.

“Fucking leave me alone!” you yelled, your voice raw and your adrenaline pumping. You were certain you could kill him right now given the chance. You tried reaching for the gun in your bag, only to feel his hands stop you, pushing you against the table as he pressed his chest flush with your back, his face right next to your ear as he spoke in a dark tone.

“I know your little game, (Y/n). You can fool Calvi, seduce him, manipulate him, brainwash him. But I know. I know every little thing that you’re doing.”, he pressed his body against you, his leg separating your thighs, pressing against you. “You can’t fool me, sweetheart.”

“You son of a bitch..”, you felt on fire, struggling against him, pushing yourself back as he turned you around, forcing himself into your space. Your body was still wrapped in your dress, your breasts were practically on his chest, his arms trapping you as he overwhelmed your senses.

“Tell me, (Y/n), do you think he’d know how to take care of you?”, his voice got deeper, his hand grabbing your face so your eyes would meet his. His body pressed against you, the muscle of his legs causing your skin to heat. “Would he know the first thing about where to touch you?”, his leg pushed against your core, your body responding to his sudden movements. “Would he know how to fuck you?”.

Your eyes narrowed in hatred, absolute hate and fury. There was no hiding it, even he could see the absolute lack of control you had right now and you hated it. You hated him.

His voice was in your ear, his hand grabbing your waist as the other wrapped itself around your throat. “Would he be able to make you scream his name?”. God, he filled your senses and pushed you into overdrive. “Would he be able to absolutely fuck the sense out of you and make you his? Take every part of you and make you beg?” his voice dripped with conviction, repeating himself a final time. “Tell me sweetheart, do you think he’s the one to make you his?”

You couldn’t take the pressure building in between your thighs. You didn’t want to have this reaction to him, but your body had other plans, ones you couldn’t control or hide.

“Why are you so interested in my personal life, Red?”, you challenged. You needed to get your power back from him. “Do you think you’d be able to do even half of what you’re saying Calvi would do to me?”

“Sweetheart, if I had you, there wouldn’t be a doubt in anyone’s mind who you belonged to.”

You stared at him with heat in your eyes, you knew he could see how flustered you were but you didn’t want to give him more power than he already had. You suddenly felt his gloved hand on your neck, his fingers softly clutching your face.

“I don’t belong to anyone. Especially not you”, you bit out, your teeth clenched as he held your gaze.

“Keep telling yourself that, Sweetheart.”, he pushed himself away from you, heading towards the window. “Calvi works for me. He won’t be so naive to fall into your tricks.”

“Leave, Red.”, you forced out, your anger still consuming you. You watched as he climbed out the window and out into the night, your body still in overdrive from his touch.

Why did he leave you feeling this way?

How did he get you this riled up?

Why did he care about you going after Calvi?

And most importantly, what was his motive?

A/N: Here is chapter 3! Hope you guys enjoy it!

I have been sick the past week so I was able to edit and get this up for you guys. I love the reactions to this series so please leave all your comments and thoughts! I love reading them and look forward to hearing more from you guys.

Until Next Week xx.

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sunny-mercya · 8 months ago

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Naked Ecstasy

Trafalgar Law x Male Reader

Fandom -> One Piece

Masterlist

You sat on top of Law, straddling his lap as you roam your hands over his tanned skin—underneath his tanktop, the only piece of clothing Law had on, you absolutely find more than just hot on your man—and leaning down to graze your lips over his, lower lips caught between your teeth and gently nibbling on them.

Law holds your hips, gripping them slightly—fearing, jokingly, that you might fall off, with how eagerly you're over him—rubbing circles with his thumb onto your naked skin, than all you wore was his blue overcoat.

The sole sight of you, naked and on top of him—thoughts so lustful and unholy running through his mind and the things Law wanted to do with your body—brought a flush of red hue onto his skin.

Your harden member rubbed against his own, sending a friction of electricity and heat through Laws body and brought a low rumbled moan from his lips.

It had been long, so very long till Law and you had finally some time for one another. Time alone where neither of you had to be on guard, where mere sloppy kisses weren't enough now to satisfy upcoming needs and where neither of you had to hold back.

Law longed for you and your body since the last proper night you two had together—which Law couldn't quite remember when that was.

You raked your hands through Laws hair, which had gotten longer over the years, while Law pulls you even closer to him—deepen the next kiss with more hunger and lust, wanting to feel every inch of you again and print it in his mind forever.

~~~

You're barely awake enough, when Law had pulled—after the countless hours of rounds you two were doing—out from you and moving your body ever so slightly around.

You moaned out to him, more a painful and exhausted whimper it was, wanting Law back at your side—cuddling into his strong arms and sharing heat—and to just laze around, because you definitely weren't ready for anything but blissful sleep.

»Be right back, just getting us more comfortable« Law shushed you, moving his hand through your hair.

You blinked at him, nuzzling into his touch before his hand went away—and dropping back into sleep, head lulling away to the sides.

Law licked over his lips, finding it adorable how you looked right now—all sweaty and exhausted limp, from the tedious activity you two did together over hours and hours—and Law had the urge to ravenously take and eat you up again.

Picking you up, another moan left your lips, Law contemplating to which Ship he should teleport��his or yours, because he surely doesn't want to be seen—after all you two are still very humanly naked and messily sticky—by anyone, because if either of your or his crewmates saw—they would tease and have a field trip of gossip.

It wasn't like, that Law was embarrassed about you or wanted to hide his feelings and relationships with you—they all know about it since Punk Hazard—it's just, their teasing (and the overprotectiveness from your friends) was a hassle of annoyance and Sachi and Penguin were real professionals of asshat when it comes to such thing.

In the end, Law had chosen the Polar Tang. There he had his private quarters after all, because the last time he was on the Sunny—you hadn't your own room, even though your rather sensitive—insecurity—picky when it comes to sleeping around others and yet you choose to share a room with your mates—and you showing Law your "secret", they weren't even remotely close to secret and secure—not in his opinion at least—sleeping spots, when you do have those rare days of wanting to sleep alone somewhere safe and comfortable.

So yeah, Law rather prefers his own bed over a couch or makeshift bed somewhere in the kitchen.

~~~

»Mhm, your hair's getting longer. I liked it when it was all short, though I also like it how it's now, good to ruffle through and the bed hair? Certainly a hot look on you«

Law grunted in Response, rubbing over his face as you played with his hair and pulling at the longer strands at his neck.

It had been the most proper sentence you had said, after you finally—and for actuality—woke up from your sleep.

Maybe Law had been a bit too rough with you, because you were way out of it and when you would wake up—be it for just a few minutes, although in a sort of daze—all you would do was moan and mumbling incoherent nonsense of word piles to Law.

And then Law begun to worry, that if he had been too rough, he might could have brought you into a low-sugar state—but he checked twice and was relieved, you weren't.

You didn't question why you were in Laws bed, instead of laying on the hard ground in the forest and neither did you question why you're washed clean and only wearing one of Laws old hoodies.

»Can I keep your hoodie?«

»Why?«

»It's super comfy and warm and it reminds me of you«

Law grinned, pulling you closer towards him. Funny, he thought, that's the same thing you said back on Punk Hazard—when he had giving you one of his hoodies, after you discarded your coat (and only being left in a shirt and shorts) to hold of the massive wave of magma and ice cold water—which the marines accidentally released open from the dam.

You were astonished by the warmths of Law hoodie, that you didn't take it off until you docked on Dressrosa.

»If you want my hoodie, it costs you a kiss,«

»That's pricey, don't you think? How about I pay you two kisses?«

You kissed Laws lips once, than twice and when you wanted to pull away—Law holds you tight, deepen the kiss even more, till you felt no more oxygen in your lungs and flips you over.

Aah, there it was, that boyish—impish—like grin of your fiancé, you come to love.

#male reader #x male reader #anime #fanfiction #manga #malereader #oneshot #xmalereader #one piece x male reader #one piece #trafalgar law x male reader #law x male reader #trafalgar law #law one piece

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dilftaroooo · 1 year ago

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݁ ִ ࣪⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ "𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙞𝙨 𝙚𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡 "

ﾟ𐦍༘⋆ after some convincing i finally decided to write this nasty lil imagine or whatever this shit is, enjoy, mwah~ (p.s. for the native spanish speaking girlies, pls lmk if i fucked up on anything)

ﾟ𐦍༘⋆ wrd count: 2.2k+

ﾟ𐦍༘⋆ tags/tw: mdni 18+ race/ethnicity neutral + age gap (reader can be from 18 to early 20s! so college aged) + dilf!miguel (mid to late 30s) + don’t trust him he’s using u!!! + afab reader + sweet nothings + spanish petnames + cursing + unprotected sex + miguel is a perv + exhibitionism(?) + expensive cars + money + and big booty bitches (you).

Just thinking of you stumbling upon dilf!miguel as you go by door to door offering to wash peoples’ cars for a few bucks. You weren’t expecting a behemoth to be behind the tall, mahogany, double doors to answer your languid knocks – a handsome one at that. One that stood six-nine feet tall paired with honey drizzled orbs surrounded by hooded lids. Soft tufts of hair shimmered burgundy with silver specks which were gifted to him from prolonged time. His tan skin brightened under the powerful sun but it still wasn’t enough to obscure the fine forehead wrinkles and smile lines that adorned his features.

“Can I help you?” The deep baritone of his voice rumbled so deeply you wouldn’t be surprised if you were to look down and see the bucket of soapy water you brought ripple at its force. It should be you that’s supposed to be helping him. You’re the one going from neighborhood to neighborhood asking uninterested people to wash their cars for some cash that wouldn’t even last you a few days. But a side hustle is a side hustle, you thought. Nothing wrong with a stash for a rainy day.

You take note of how seductively the black wife beater he wore embraced his torso and how his pecs puffed out at you like some majestic penguin in the cool lands of Antarctica, staring down at you, a piece of flopping fish dreading to be eaten as he cocks his head to the side waiting for a response. His shoulders are broad and his muscles are taut and veiny – you ponder on what his reaction would be if you were to trace his veins from his neck down to his finger tips and tell him how badly you want them inside you. Gulping down the saliva that was building up on top of your tongue, you spoke your first words like a toddler.

“Would you, um-” Why couldn’t you finish your sentence on the first try? Did you forget how to speak English? Perhaps that’s only the case around him and a few other gorgeous people you’ve met in the span of your years living on earth. “Do you need to have your car washed – sir? I can wash it for fifteen.” You sounded so weak and frail to Miguel, just like how most college-aged girls sounded when they managed to have some sort of interaction with him – their hands clasped firmly around their elbow as they sway from side-to-side, asking him frivolous questions before poking their chest to get him to catch a glimpse of their cleavage that peeked out from their low cut tops. They all played the same game – a game he always loved to play.

He takes this moment to observe what you had on; a peach colored camisole that matched the flower placed delicately in your hair along with the daisy dukes that revealed your plump thighs. Not too skimpy. At least you were somewhat modest. A cute, weak, little thing you are.

He grins and you can see his crows feet crinkle at the gesture, his canines looking sharper than most. “Of course. Been a while since I’ve gotten her cleaned up.” He reassures you to wait for him as he gets his car from the garage and when you lay eyes on the ‘Ferrari SF90 Spider’ he displayed to you, your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. It was a car model that you couldn’t even afford to dream of, glowing a dark navy blue with a rear wing that was coated in a vibrant red. Its engine roaring loudly and aggressively, telling you who the alpha is in the midst of asphalt concrete and dotted yellow lines. Miguel twitched at the gasp you couldn’t contain.

“A-are you sure you want me to wash this?” You ask while ogling at the car parked in front of you. This wasn’t a car some teenager bought with the aid of their low minimum wage job at a department store, this was a sports car – a Ferrari! This was something that should be washed professionally. “I’m no expert car washer or whatever those guys are called. As much as I would love to help you I don’t think I’m fit for something so…luxurious.” He lets out an airy chuckle that kisses your eardrums.

“No worries, cariño.” He would say and it makes your heart tremble and thighs clench. You’re not proficient in Spanish. Only remembering the fundamentals you learned when you were still in grade school and several language apps you’ve downloaded on a whim but you heard that word before in several love songs you’ve come across. ‘Darling’ is what it means. An affectionate pet name.

Miguel drinks up your reaction like drinking water in the Sahari desert. It was the last drop left in a flask that was so kindly offered by you, smiling at him with dry lips as he sticks his tongue out, aching for the pure droplet. You were so considerate – not wanting to risk destroying his five hundred-thousand plus car that he deliberately squandered his money on. But it was ok with Miguel. He always has money to spare.

He finally convinced you to do the job and get his vehicle all cleaned up and tidy. You instantly got to work but not before murmuring a sugary ‘thank you’’ and taking your sponge to the roof of his car. You and Miguel would conjure up some small talk such as your hobbies or careers. You’ve learned that he was a father of a little girl named Gabriella. His ‘sweet sunshine’ is what he would call her. You found that attractive – a father who is willing to take care of their offspring with genuine affection. His wife must be lucky…well, if he had one she would be, you think.

Miguel didn’t go deep into explanation at his lack of a spouse. A typical “It just wasn’t meant to be.” fell from his lips as he looked off to the direction of his house. Sensitive topic, maybe. Which is why he decided to shine the light on you. “You’re in college, right? Anyone there sweep you off your feet?”

All of a sudden, you feel coy. Embarrassed and bashful at your answer being a firm “no, there has not, Mr. O’Hara.” There’s a slight quiver in your voice but Miguel can tell that you’re trying to remain neutral and not break into tiny pieces under his watchful gaze. And just like every man thinks when they see an attractive young woman who claims they don’t have a partner, he asks why – why hasn’t anyone stepped up to you and asked for your number in hopes for a date? Why hasn’t anyone paid for your meals at semi-expensive restaurants? Why hasn’t anyone told you they loved you more than anyone they could ever imagine before clasping their hands under your chin, gazing at soft, plump lips before pressing them onto theirs? Why hasn’t anyone dared to run mischievous fingers up the hem of your dress before tasting the sensual keen you let out due to the fingertip teasing your throbbing clit?

Then Miguel remembers there’s a difference between boys and men.

You would notice how sinful Miguel’s gaze is on you. Like a stray cat preparing to pounce on a small alley mouse, the feline waiting as patience is his best friend. The mouse is aware of the cat’s presence and stiffens like a rock. “I just haven’t found the right, uh, time. Though, I would like to…” You try your best to conceal your face, you felt as though he was staring too hard. Miguel adjusts his stance to be directly next to you and you smell his scent – like masculinity, vetiver, and sweat. Your knees buckle.

Then the cat sluggishly leaned in on its prey, familiarizing itself of the little mouse’s smell. “No time for it, huh, amor? Guess pretty girls are too busy for romance, what a shame,” His tsks were faux but they still made you feel bad however you didn’t have the time to empathize with his breath streaming down the curve of your neck and his hand caressing your waist. His hips were practically against your lower back as a result of his staggering height and you can feel his bulge poke you excitedly. “Who will I have to love me at night? It gets so cold sometimes.”

Finally that cat strikes, working its fangs in the fragile neck of the weak mouse. With hands firmly planted on the hood of his sports car, your shorts were practically ripped away from you as Miguel takes its place with his big hand, digits rubbing over the cotton fabric of your panties at the direct spot your swollen clit lays, aching and pulsing for his attention. Your back was securely glued to his chest as he loses his patience and rudely shoves your panties to the side, pushing back your clitorial hood with a skilled finger to hear you squeak like said mouse under the grip of the fervent cat.

“Mr. O’Hara. We can’t. Not out here.” The words exhale from your lips so elegantly as you try to prevent Miguel’s free hand from lifting up your loose camisole top above your breasts, to no avail. They glistened under UV rays and sweat, your areolas were puffy and craved Miguel’s assertive touch. You both were out in the open driveway of his home with dozens of other beautiful houses encasing the area yet there was no one in sight but people still had windows they could look out from. Everyone looks out their window from time to time, right? Maybe not unless they hear the muffled moans and wet squelches coming from outside to which they wouldn’t be able to contain their curiosity and feel compelled to take a quick peek between their blinds only to be met with their hot neighbor ramming the living daylights out of some young woman they’ve never seen before.

Both rocking in harmony as you relish in the filthy pleasure you are both given. The suds from the soapy water covers the expanse of your tummy and forearms as you feel Miguel abuse your guts with the hard tip of his reddened cock. Filling you like a hand in a latex glove, you feel so full, so stuffed, so cramped with all of his veins and precum as he grips a hand around your neck like your favorite, pink, choker – reminding you of oh how dumb you sound taking his dick like the ‘buena puta’ you were made to be. His trimmed, pubic hairs tickled your ass each time he plunged his way back in you after teasing you lightly whenever he pulled out to the head.

“Ay Dios, amor. You’re clenching around me so tightly. You aren’t gonna let me go? Want me to cum in your filthy, young, pussy out here in the middle of my driveway? Have you any decency? Mierda.” He would groan in the shell of your ear. His canines brush against the skin softly and you bite your lip for the fourth time that afternoon as he continued to have his way with you.

“I do,” You pathetically start. “I do have some, ugh, decency, sir. I do.”

“But you’re not showing that to me, love. That isn’t what I see here now, is it? Is this the same girl talking to me while she lets me stuff her full with my cock, hm?” The tap-tap-tapping of his thighs colliding with yours crescendos into a louder pitch, one much more noticeable than a few minutes ago and you wish you could cover yourself with an invisible cloak. He kisses his wet kisses and speaks his sweet nothings as he hovers over your small, mouse-like, appearance with his hulking form. It would have scared you if not for the pecks he left on your body and the conjuring of soft coos he knows you would like to hear.

It was too hot, metaphorically and literally. The sun was blazing and the combination of both of your body heat was not ideal for this kind of weather but Miguel just looks so good fondling your tits and pumping his warm seed into the wet cavern of your insides while he slurs out cursed spanish phrases from his tongue that you couldn’t even bother to pick up, too busy savoring the spurts of cum leaking in your used cunt.

Fortunately, in the middle of your fucked-out daze, Miguel was nice enough to pull the panties and shorts back in their reserved spots (you felt his cum pile up in your underwear as soon as he lifted them up and you shivered at the feeling). You feel something wiggle its way between your hip and the hem of your shorts just for you to look down and catch sight of the wads of cash he stuffed there like you were some cheap whore (perhaps you were).

You glance back up, getting ready to tell him it was only fifteen dollars but he beats you to it by giving you a quick peck on your cheek. It was softer compared to when he was balls deep inside of you.

“Take it. For being so good to me, corazón.” His crow’s feet appear again and you silently wish to give each line a kiss but it was already too late once he turned around and stepped foot into his house, locking his door shut with a loud ‘click’.

©This work belongs to @dilftaroooo. If you see any work similar to mine, please notify me for plagiarism will not be tolerated.

#miguel x reader #miguel smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #astv miguel #tw: age gap

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aoioozora · 4 months ago

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Mending Promises

Content: Keegan x F! Reader, Band AU, Civilian AU, second chances, exes to lovers, angst and fluff, happy ending Note: This idea has been marinating in my head for months now. I've never written an exes to lovers story before and I think I did quite well for my first attempt. Put my heart and soul into writing it. Enjoy :) [also why does K look so "🥺" in the gif]

The little puddles of rainwater on the cobbled streets squelched and splashed as you stepped over them. The dark night was clear and damp, filling the air with the light scent of petrichor, sizzling meats, and smoke which rose over the buildings and traffic into an incoherent yet delightful mixture. Flickering lamps passed by you as you walked, the puddles reflecting them.

Genevieve's. That was the place you stopped in front of. The red neon sign flickered and buzzed faintly as you pushed the worn bronze metal handle on the equally worn wooden door and stepped inside the establishment.

You were greeted by faint chatter of the dingy restaurant's patrons, all shrouded in dim darkness in contrast to the band up on the podium bathed in the yellow spotlight as they set up their mics on the stands and adjusted the drums. The lead singer stood out with the bright red Fender electric guitar hanging in front of him by the strap as he plugged the wire in. He raised his head for a moment, sweeping away his sweat-glistening black locks out of his eyes to scour through the dimly lit room as if in search of someone.

You felt an annoying tingle in your stomach as his eyes swept past you, unsure whether or not you were spotted by him. You sat at a table nearest to the door, just in case you wanted to run away from the performance midway. You took out your phone and opened a chat screen.

Keegan: I hope it isn't too much to ask you to see our performance. We may have fallen out, but your support is important to me.

And attached below was a digital flyer of the said performance that you were currently attending. It was sent a week ago, and you left him on read, one of the many messages and concert invitations you didn't want to reply to and didn't attend. Your eyes lingered on the second line of the message, and every single time you read it, it wrenched your heart and made your eyes burn with tears. And it did again as you raised your head to look at him, blinking your eyes rapidly.

Keegan's eyes softened with disappointment. There was nobody in this world he would play for if not you, and not seeing you there didn't make him standing in front of this small, faceless crowd worth it. Regardless, the little concert began.

He tapped the mic twice. "Testing, one, two, three," he spoke softly, and then began, "Good evening everyone, we're The Ghosts. We'll be singing our original songs and a few covers tonight. Enjoy."

The patrons in the restaurant gave the band their attention as he and his fellow bandmate, the lead guitarist, Logan, began to sing their indie rock song Claustrophobic together. Keegan's low, gruff, rumbling voice was singled out by you, and it was all you could hear.

The world's caving in without you, I can't breathe, I can't breathe.

You realised that this was one of their newest singles, as you hadn't heard it before. Resting your elbow on the table in front of you, your eye could see nobody but Keegan. You hated it, but you couldn't resist. Him standing in front of a small audience, head bent slightly over his red Fender, his black clothes, the lights shining over his glossy black hair, his foot tapping to keep time, it was all a familiar sight, but a distant one that you could only look at with sorrow.

Your reverie was interrupted by soft clapping from the audience as they ended their song. You felt a small hint of happiness that they were getting good reception. Even if you associated bad memories with their music, it was still good music. They began their next song, Penguins.

My love, you're all I see; I'll give you a rock When I get down on one knee, And forever in wedlock We will be.

A tight lump rose in your throat as you heard him sing those words from your favourite song. He'd croon the words in your ears at night to lull you to sleep in his arms, promising a future of togetherness, mates for life, just like penguins.

Only for it to all come crashing down.

A tear slipped down your cheek as you watched him sing the upbeat yet poignant song; his voice was full of emotion. He sang like he meant it, just like back then. The suppressed memories came flooding back to you as you stared at the floor with a distant gaze, of dancing with him in the living room, hearing his various renditions of the same song, even pretending to get down on one knee to make you giggle incessantly. But most of all, it was the look of utter adoration and awe in his normally dull steel blue eyes that sparkled like stars when he looked at you, like you were a goddess to him.

Why did it have to go all wrong?

You wiped away the stream of tears from your eyes and your cheeks, dabbing them with a handkerchief as you vainly sighed to get rid of the tightness in your chest.

And why, despite the months, did you feel like your love for him never diminished?

You listened to the next few songs distractedly. You couldn't help but wonder about the songs he chose; out of all the ones in their entire discography, he specifically chose the ones you loved, the songs that were most cherished, and held the most memories.

Your eyes fell upon the vacant ring finger of your right hand. There was a subtle indentation around the base of it, where a ring used to sit day in and day out. When you broke up with him, you took off that promise ring and threw it to the ground in front of him, and now your ring finger was forlorn, throbbing with a dull ache at the unpleasant memory you wished to banish from your thoughts.

"The last song for tonight is not our song, but our cover of Do I Wanna Know by Arctic Monkeys, which is our personal favourite. Enjoy."

His gruff voice pierced through the noisy recesses of your mind, bringing you back to the present. Was it the last song already? Time sure did fly when one was deep in thought.

And it was no unfamiliar song either. It was one you loved dearly.

The drums beat in time with your heart, and the famous riff of the guitar stunned the air into silence, leaving you to hear your pulsating heartbeat in your ears, reminding you why you loved this song so much. You heard him inhale, you saw him raise his eyes to scan the faceless crowd, and in his characteristic deep gruffness, he exhaled out his song,

Have you got colour in your cheeks?

You did now.

Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift the type That sticks around like summat in your teeth? Are there some aces up your sleeve? Have you no idea that you're in deep? His eyes looked searchingly, almost desperately around the room of the restaurant as he sang, I've dreamt about you nearly every night this week How many secrets can you keep? 'Cause there's this tune I found That makes me think of you somehow an' I play it on repeat Until I fall asleep, spillin' drinks on my settee

Almost as if he wanted you to know what he felt.

His fellow bandmate and guitarist, Logan, provided the backing vocals,

Do I wanna know?

And Keegan followed, still looking around,

If this feelin' flows both ways? Sad to see you go Was sorta hoping that you'd stay Baby, we both know That the nights were mainly made For sayin' things that you can't say tomorrow day

He took another deep breath, his fingers switching chords as quickly as his voice switched from sadness to desperation.

Crawling back to you

The guitar groaned over the amplifiers, filling you with a sense of anguish, like a rag being twisted. The rhythmic drumbeats forced the vision of Keegan approaching you in a slow, steady march, wanting, begging, groweling at your feet to play about in your mind's eye.

Ever thought of callin' when You've had a few? 'Cause I always do

Maybe I'm too Busy bein' yours To fall for somebody new Now I've thought it through Crawling back to you.

Those words hit you like a sack of bricks; they, along with the previous songs, only reinforced the fact that he still wanted you despite the falling away. A lump rose in your throat again.

He wanted you back, and so did you.

So have you got the guts?

He paused, allowing the drums to dictate the length of the silence for the space of four beats. He looked about searchingly again, trying to find you in the faceless crowd. In the dim, flickering light of an old jukebox next to your table, he spotted you. You raised your eyes and met his. A volcano of butterflies erupted in your stomach.

His eyes held yours fast as he sang,

Been wonderin' if your heart's still open And if so, I wanna know what time it shuts

He paused again for a quarter of a beat to let that sink in.

Simmer down an' pucker up, I'm sorry to interrupt

Those same pair of eyes narrowed slightly, momentarily averting his gaze towards his guitar, as if guiltily admitting, It's just I'm constantly on the cusp of tryin' to kiss you But I don't know if you feel the same as I do

He raised his head to meet your eyes again, a glint of hope evident in them despite the distance, But we could be together if you wanted to.

And there was the invitation.

You couldn't bear to stay there any longer. As he sang the bridge and the chorus, you stood up and hastily stepped out of the establishment, rubbing a stray tear off your cheek. Keegan saw it all. His chest seized. He nearly rose to his heels in readiness to run after you midway but he stopped himself, interpreting your departure as the rejection. But the tear he saw you wipe away; did he manage to get through your heart?

As soon as you were out of doors, you were hit by the rain. A fervent wind blew, splattering the heavy drops against you and the shade above your head that you took shelter under. No umbrella; the rain dead-ended you from leaving, and so you waited, holding yourself in your arms to keep warm, refusing to go back inside as his singing permeated the walls, tormenting you even over the noisy rain and howling wind.

The performance ended and the diners went back to chattering away while The Ghosts began to dismantle their equipment. While Keegan solemnly pulled off the strap of his guitar, his drummer, Hesh walked over to him.

"Did she come?" he asked in a whisper as he held Keegan by the shoulder.

"Saw her leave just now,"

Logan also joined in on the conversation as he unplugged the wire from his guitar. "And?" he asked, very obviously expecting something more.

"And what?"

"And are you just going to let her leave after this whole concert we planned just for her?" Logan rolled his eyes exasperatedly as he lectured Keegan, "Go and talk to her!"

Hesh turned to the windows of the establishment and saw the rain beating against the panes. He nudged Keegan. "It's raining pretty hard out there. She must not have left yet. Run!"

Keegan wasted no time in hurrying down the little podium, his heavy steps thudding against the hollow wood. He snatched his jacket and with quick, hasty steps and a rising hope in his chest, he opened the door, stepped out, and looked beside the door.

But you weren't there.

His shoulders sagged, his hand slipped from the worn door handle and fell to his side with disappointment. He was about to turn back inside when the sound of a quiet crunch of gravel under a boot on the asphalt not too far from him stopped him in his tracks. In the dim red light of the neon sign, he had to squint to see the shivering elbow sticking out from behind the wall. He inched closer and peeked into the narrow, dark alley, only to find what- or rather- who he was looking for.

You looked up when he poked his head in and felt your heart stop when you recognized who you were looking at. Both of your eyes widened.

"Wha- What are you doing here?" Keegan blurted, surprised but pleased to see you still around.

"You wanted me to come to your concert?" you said, raising a brow at him as you continued to shiver from the wind and rain.

"I mean, yeah, but..." he paused to take off his thickly lined leather jacket and draped it over your shoulders, "you're out here... in the cold. You could've just stayed inside."

You didn't object to his assistance and he had to hide the surprise from displaying on his face. While you thought of what to say, he nudged you aside with his shoulder, away from the elements and stood next to you by the wall to shield you. He waited in silence for an answer, but to no avail.

"I didn't think you'd come... especially after you left me on read," he began quietly, in a tone that carried no resentment, but sadness. He leaned against the wall and propping his foot up behind him as he crossed his arms.

You let out a sigh as you sunk your face into the fleece-lined collar of the jacket, taking in the familiar scent and feeling the familiar texture of leather and fleece against your arms and your cheeks. He'd always lend you his favourite jacket.

"I didn't want to come here, but I did anyway," you replied.

"You didn't have to force yourself." He shrugged and turned his head away from you to watch the rain pattering noisily on the sidewalk.

"I didn't. I was... kinda drawn here."

Drawn here, he thought, feeling a flutter. "What drew you here?"

A pause. "You."

His jaw laxed and his fingers twitched. His crossed arms loosened and his arm fell to his side, letting his knuckles lightly brush against yours. The brief contact sent a shock blitzing through your fingers, stiffening your hand for a moment. You inhaled sharply, feeling a vortex churning in your stomach; you didn't know you missed and craved his touch so much.

"It means a lot to me that you came," he whispered, letting his hand linger next to yours.

"Why?" A tremor shook your voice. He grimaced.

"I..." he exhaled, "I know I was an asshole to you. I put my band before you and neglected you. I made you sad..." he sighed, his features wincing, "to the point that you left. And I don't blame you for it."

Your throat tightened and burned like a fiery noose had been tied around it. Your thoughts took you back to the past months, remembering how the two of you argued over his preference to spend time making music with Hesh and Logan. Every day was an uphill battle, fighting a tight competition with his band, until you were spread way too thin that you snapped. He was furious when you left, but didn't stop you, calling it a "good riddance", words which left a deep scar that refused to heal.

He continued, "When I told Hesh and Logan you left and explained to them why, they were pissed. Logan was ready to throw hands at me. I was confused until Logan sat me down and told me that nobody and nothing comes before your partner." He shook his head, sighing again. "It was so obvious, but I missed it. I was so stupid!"

He paused his speech for a brief moment to let you have a say. Knowing that you needed time to let his words settle in, he pushed back against his impatience and stayed silent.

You knew Hesh and Logan only a little, but you didn't expect them to stick up for you and scold Keegan about his behaviour. And you had harboured such a boiling resentment for them too. That feeling now started to simmer down into shame and regret.

When he saw that you weren't saying anything, he decided to continue.

"I missed you," he confessed, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. "I hoped and prayed you'd come today and you came. You've never come to any of our little concerts after our breakup except for this one. Can I take this as a sign that…" he drew in a shaky breath, "can I be bold and assume that you miss me too?"

The metaphorical noose tightened around your neck, forcing tears to brim over your waterline. You choked out the words, "You have the audacity to miss me especially after saying "good riddance" when I broke up with you."

Keegan drew in a sharp breath as his brows furrowed. "I was stupid to say those words to you, stupid and blind. I didn't value you enough. I can't believe it had to take me Logan and Hesh to drill into my head the weight of what I had thrown away."

You heard the regret in his voice, but it didn't yet move you. A sob choked your throat. "I loved your music, Keegan, but when you started to love your band more, I hated it. I hated your band, you, your guitar, Hesh, Logan, and your songs… I hated it all."

Keegan felt his heart squeeze painfully at your sobs and complaints. He had no right to blame you for it. "I understand…" he spoke, letting out a slow exhale over the howling wind, "I know that me giving more attention to my band has given you a sour taste in your mouth for my music," his fingers brushed against yours and wrapped around your hand gently, "but this concert was just for you. I sang all your favourite songs tonight…" he gave your hand a squeeze, "because I love you."

You felt your heart skip a beat.

"I wrote those songs for you, I sing them for you…" his thumb gently rubbed against the back of your hand, "Even after you left, I couldn't stop thinking of you. I couldn't stop loving you."

He paused, giving you a chance to speak. In the brief silence, he noticed how you haven't pulled your hand out of his very gentle grasp when you easily could. He held on to this ray of hope that you were receptive to his words, though understandably hesitant.

"I know a lot of guys go back to their exes and beg them for another chance, but you know me, I've never done that to my exes. You're the only one I've come back to, and that's only because I genuinely feel like we're connected somehow… I can't explain it."

You understood what he meant. You felt the same way too. You weren't the type to look back once you ended a relationship, but when it came to Keegan, he never left your thoughts, which was why you remained rooted in place, letting him hold your hand.

"I want you back, ____," he finally said, "I'm sorry for not valuing you like I should have. This entire concert was my apology for you. I know this is too much to ask for. I know I've broken your trust and hurt you, but I want to correct that mistake and make amends." He paused, "Once chance is all I need. I'll do whatever it takes."

You sniffled, feeling the first tear roll down your cheek, your body trembling as you frantically tried to wipe the stream away. Keegan's heart wrenched at the sight; he took a bold step in wrapping you in his arms and bringing you against his chest. He breathed heavily, wondering if you would push him away, but to his surprise, you leaned into his embrace.

"Why was it a good riddance when I left?" you squeaked out against his chest.

His chest twinged painfully when you brought it up again, now understanding how deeply those words had hurt you. "I was crazy," he said, chastising himself, "I was stupid and blinded by my anger. I thought you didn't understand my love for music and my band, but I was the one who didn't understand what you needed. It never was a good riddance, darling. I missed you every second you were not in my life." He squeezed you gently, both to comfort you, and for him to cling to you.

Your sobs grew louder; you were both pained and relieved at the same time.

"You're an angel… and I don't deserve you," he murmured, feeling a sob choke his own throat, "I know I'm being selfish but I love you… I want you back."

You let out a weary groan as you leaned further against him. His arms instinctively tightened around you.

"I'm sorry…" you said, raising your hands a little to clutch his t-shirt, "For throwing the ring at you that day."

He hugged you tighter. "I forgive you," he whispered immediately, feeling lighter and relieved that you apologised for your own crime, one that had hurt him.

You squeezed him, and he soothingly rubbed his hand against your back, enjoying the warmth that he missed dearly. But he pulled away slightly and shoved his hand in his pocket, bringing out a small, silver ring.

Your eyes widened slightly. It was the promise ring he had given you. You looked at him, eyes welling with tears again. "You still have it," you murmured shakily.

He looked at the dainty piece of jewelry and sighed, smiling a hint. "I was so mad at you that day that I threw it in the trash, but when I calmed down, I dug it back out and cleaned it up. I kept it because it reminded me of you…" his voice trailed off and then gingerly extended his hand out to you.

You placed your hand in his gently. At the contact, his body flushed with warmth.

With a shaky breath and voice, he said, looping the ring through your ring finger, as tears slipped down his cheeks, "I promise I'll love you more than anything in this world, even myself."

You sniffled and sobbed as you saw the ring fit right in the indentation on your finger like two jigsaw puzzle pieces fit together, the familiar sight of it sending waves of warmth in your heart. Keegan watched your emotional reaction, and he pulled you in his arms again to comfort you.

"I love you, ____. I'll make it up to you a hundred times over..." he stroked your hair softly, voice brimming over with determination and affection.

You buried your face in his chest, his words wrenching more tears out of your eyes. "Do you promise?"

"Wholeheartedly, I promise."

---

More Keegan:

Attracted

Cat Got Your Tongue

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Masterlist

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rekaning · 1 year ago

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Painful Silence | The Originals x Mute!Child!reader

CW: Canon-typical violence, implied/referenced abuse of a child

Summary: Takes place after the events of "Not A Peep". A bit of backstory of Mute!reader from an unexpected source.

She had never been a vocal child.

Her Papa had voiced his concerns about that when Mama was still alive. Mama had merely smiled gently down at her three year old, quietly playing with a hummingbird figurine set.

"Nothing wrong with a little silence," Mama softly told her Papa, running a loving hand over her daughter's hair. "Her silence allows her to perceive the world so much more. She's an observant child. She listens, rather than just hears. And that is a precious gift for a bloodline like mine."

Her Papa still had his reservations, but he trusted his wife. Magic and witchcraft still confounded him but his lover's carefree attitude eased his worries for his daughter's lack of vocalization.

As the days went by, her Papa had felt more and more at ease, having heard several peels of laughter and grunts of frustration erupt from his daughter at times when he was at home. It was only a matter of time before she would begin to speak, he'd told himself.

Their household had been a happy one.

Until it wasn't.

It happened in the middle of the night. Papa had was at his usual night shift at work, with only her and Mama at home.

She had been woken from a rather lovely dream of talking pelicans and flying penguins.

Angry voices coming from the living room downstairs had her creeping slowly off her bed, making sure to grab her pastel green throw blanket with baby chicks printed in patterns, and tiptoed over to the second floor landing to find out what was going on.

When she peeked in between the banister, she could see her Mama with two other women in the living room.

"The laws of the coven no longer apply to me, sister. I renounced my position when I did." Mama said calmly.

One of the women, who had a very similar resemblance to her Mama, stepped forward, voice forceful, "The child is of our bloodline, tainted, though it may be, but ours nonetheless. She must be with her people."

Mama took a step forward, her face hardened, eyes alight with fury, "You will not touch a hair on her head. I left because I no longer believed in the covens ideals and practices. What makes you think I'd let you take my daughter to the very thing I cut ties from?"

The third woman, aged beyond the years of her Mama and the other woman, spoke, "The elders will not allow one of our kin to grow outside of the coven. She must come with us."

Her Mama looked at the older woman pleadingly, eyes stinging with unshed tears, "Mother, please, please, you can't take her from me. She is everything to me."

The old woman, the child's grandmother, held herself with poise and looked down her nose toward her pleading daughter, "I am sorry, child."

Her Mama's sorrowful face quickly morphed into rage and before the young girl could blink, her mother had let out a vicious cry, lifting her hand toward the woman that looked like her, Mama's sister.

The child felt the hairs on her body raise from the electricity in the air. The air seemed to vibrate and the girl stared in wonder as she saw lines of color and light dance around her mother.

An audible, sickening crack broke the girl out of her awestruck wonder and she gazed down at the still figure of her mother's sister, her auntie, on the floor. Her neck was at an odd angle, eyes open in shock, glazed over, seeing nothing.

"What have you done!" Came the shrill cry of her grandmother.

A rumble coursed through the foundation of the home in response.

Her Mama yelled back, "Leave! You are not welcome in this home!"

Her squeak of shock was her undoing. Both her mother and grandmother looked toward the banister and spotted the shaking form of the child.

Her mother's eyes went wide with fear, "My little Bluebird, please, go back to—MOTHER NO!"

The young girl felt the magic before she saw it. Flames erupted to the girl's left, barring escape from the stairs. The child squealed in terror as the fire nipped at her feet. It got close enough that her blanket, trailing limply at her feet, caught fire. The girl quickly let go of the cloth.

"Sweetheart, run!"

She obeyed her mother and stumbled shakily away from the growing flames. She didn't dare to look back, but she could hear the cries and yells coming from both her mother and grandmother in the living room, could feel the magic like static shocks to her skin.

She took refuge in her room, grabbed the penguin stuffy that she had and hid herself under her covers.

Blasts and yells could still be heard. Her room was getting hotter and hotter. A chocked sob erupted from her throat, and the only word that spilled from her lips was, "MAMA!"

The only thing she could hear was herself, her guttural screams for her mother, her pulsing heartbeat in her ears, her ragged coughs as she inhaled smoke.

The door to her room burst open after a few moments. The blankets were ripped from her, and she was brought into the familiar and warm embrace of her Mama.

"You're going to be alright, little Bluebird. Mama's here. She will always be here."

The child, exhausted from fear and panic, fainted in her mother's hold.

Her mother didn't have the sufficient power to calm the inferno raging in her home. Only enough to block it from spreading into the child's bedroom for now.

There was not much she could do. Her own mother and sister lay dead in the living room and she herself would not survive this night. The hex her mother placed on her before her death would complete its task within a few hours.

She looked down at her daughter's sleeping form. Tears welled in her eyes knowing this would be the last time she would see her. Her trembling lips gently kissed her forehead, "I love you, my little Bluebird. Mama loves you."

With the last reserve of power she held, she cast a protective spell over her little girl. Although her mother and sister were dead, the coven would not rest until they had her kid. The spell would deter any unwelcome eyes, keeping her girl safe for a few years at least.

As she lay at the foot of her daughter's bed, clutching the girl safely within her embrace, her last thoughts were of her baby and her husband. She hoped he would not resent her for this mess. He knew her coven was coming for their child. He never liked the whole witch aspect of her life and she could only pray that his hatred of it would not consume him after this.

Her gaze flitted down to her little Bluebird. Hearing her child cry out for her had filled her with so much joy and so much anguish. She had no idea how this night would affect her. She could only hope that her father would help her recover. As she closed her eyes for the last time, she could only hope.

Let my little one find happiness in this life.

***

The three Original's stared down at the child in the woman's lap.

The child's mother stroked her hair soothingly. The girl snuggled further into her mother's touch, a smile forming at the nostalgic ministrations.

Klaus turned his wary eyes to the woman.

Her presence in their home had been unexpected. He had found out that the Veil, which acted as a barrier between the physical world and the Other Side, had been brought down due to the goings-on in Mystic Falls. Because of this, supernatural entities that had previously died, could now interact with the physical realm.

The Mikaelson siblings had been skeptical of the woman's identity when she had appeared before them. All doubt about who she was had been dashed the moment their little Bird had caught sight of the mystery woman.

It had been a shock to the three ancient vampires when the girl, whom hadn't uttered a single sound since meeting, had let out a wail so primal, so heartachingly hurt. The three siblings could still hear the haunting cries in their ears.

The woman had scooped the little girl in her arms, rocking her soothingly and muttering sweet words into her ear, "I'm here my little Bluebird. Mama's here. You've been so strong, sweetheart."

Klaus was loathe to admit that he felt a pang of envy roll over him, seeing his Little Wing being soothed by another, but he had to reign in his ire, reminding himself that it was her mother and that ripping the two apart right now would not go over well. With his Little Wing, nor with his siblings.

"Thank you." The woman's voice broke through the Mikaelson's thoughts.

Each of their questioning looks at her gratitude caused her to smile as she explained, "For looking out for her." Her eyes strayed back to her daughter, "You have no idea how agonizing it was to see the aftermath of my death. To see her detach from what happened, see that she blamed herself for it, and even seeing my husband hurt her the way he did."

Her eyes shot back up to them, brimming with tears. "Thank you," she said again.

Rebekah huffed, irritated, "Your husband was a worthless, wretched wanker. Good riddance, I say. How could you even stand to stay with him?"

"I make no excuses for how he treated our daughter after my death, but he was never that way when I was alive. He worried for our little Bluebird. He knew about my being a witch and he knew that my coven would be coming for her." She gestured to the sleeping girl. "I truly loved him, but what he did...the neglect he subjected her to was..." She stared off into the distance her eyes glazed before she turned them to Klaus and Rebekah, silent fury burning bright in her gaze, "I do not condemn what you did to him. My only regret is that I could not partake in his judgment."

Her admittance eased Elijah's mind. He was pleased to know that their Baby Bird's mother had the proper motherly instinct to eliminate any threat or harm to their child, regardless of who the cause of it was.

Klaus grunted and crossed his arms, ire still simmering within his chest, "Your blessings regarding that brute's death aside, what else did you hope to accomplish with your limited time?"

Elijah rolled his eyes at his brother's rude attitude. He understood his irritation, he could see the jealousy festering in him, and he would be lying if he said that he didn't feel similar himself. The three of them had come to care for the child. At this point, she was a Mikaelson in all but blood.

Rebekah tsked at her brothers tone, "Honestly, Nik."

The witch, however, seemed to find the hybrids tone amusing as she chuckled softly, a knowing smile spreading on her lips, "Niklaus Mikaelson. I thank you for your concern for her, but there is nothing more that I want than to spend what little time I have left holding my daughter."

The hybrid narrowed his eyes at her, cold gaze studying her carefully, "I find that quite hard to believe. Any sane parent would fight tooth and nail to drag their child away from a monster like me."

The witch regarded him warmly, "Hm. It seems I have yet to witness this monster you speak of. The man I have seen with my daughter has been nothing but gentle and sweet; aquiescing to her needs when the situation called for it."

She turned her gaze to Elijah, "She has been under the protection of the one they call the Noble Brother. Who has treated her with equal care as you, Niklaus."

She finally turned to Rebekah, "Besides, this beautiful spitfire that is your sister has shown that she has the instincts of a mother bear when it comes to the protection of my child."

Her eyes went right back to Klaus, "Tell me. Why would I take her from a family that has prioritized her happiness and safety?"

The three Originals said nothing.

There was no sense in denying her observations, it was clear that she had been there for all their interactions with her child, invisible to the from her place on the Other Side.

The mother said nothing further, merely continuing the soft caresses on her little Bird's hair.

#the mikaelson siblings #the originals x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #klaus mikealson x reader #rebekah mikealson x reader #mute!reader #elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson

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