#because you'd already gotten yours and needed to kill time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

valewosomtb · 6 months

Text

not a burden|| a. Putellas × platonic!reader

warnings: literally none

a/n: Lowkey wrote this based on some personal experience and just had to get it out off my system, love the fear of missing out🤪

You always felt like a second choice. Like you were always there just when some of your so-called friends didn't have anyone else to hang out with. But that is also what your love life, or whatever you should call it since there's not even L from your love life in existence, looked like.

When you find someone you like or you're just attracted to, and you try to pursue it to see where the things go, you somehow end up being heartbroken because that person has someone else or they just haven't gotten over their ex OR you're just a distraction. In the most of the cases, you were just a distraction.

It happened too many times you thought it was a reason you were scared of commitment. That was also a reason why you were scared of opening up to people when you just KNOW they're gonna use it against you or just use you.

Another problem was, that you were a people pleaser. You'd always put someone else's happiness before yours. Even if it killed you. As long as you got to please someone.

Everyone on the team knew your fun, smiley, chaotic, spontaneous side. Almost no one knew the real you. You were always the one to make everyone laugh with your incredibly bad jokes or dumb ideas you always came up with. Even after a bad game, you were the one who would try to cheer everyone up and motivate them.

You were closest to Alexia and Keira. Keira helped you when you signed with Barça and Alexia took you under her wing when she saw how adorable you were the first time when you met her and were a big stuttering mess since she was your idol for a long time.

From time to time, you get into your head. There are some periods when you do nothing but overthink everything. From your performances on training or in the game, to just your relationships with everyone around you.

Everyone told you that you were a very likable person and that there can't be many people who don't like you. You strongly disagreed with that statement.

Especially, in this period when you can't help but think about your relationships in the team.

It was another day, another training, you woke up early in the morning like every other morning, had a little breakfast, and went for a 3-mile run. You just loved running it made your mind clean and easy, and your thoughts stopped running as your legs started. This was the only time you felt happy with yourself.

After you finished, your legs burned but you couldn't care less. You got a quick shower and then got ready for the main training of the day. As you were driving to the stadium the overthinking got louder. All you could think about was do you actually belonged there and do others wanted you there.

You were the first one there, as usual, you were thankful for that. You were walking slowly towards the locker room, when you got there you just sat there and stared at the wall across from you. Just sitting there, overthinking, you were so deep in your thoughts that you didn't even realize that the locker room was already full.

You quickly wiped the tear from your cheek and continued to get ready as everyone else. As you were getting ready to go out on the field, you realized that no one greeted you, like you weren't even there. That just confirmed your overthinking… no one cared about you.

What you didn't think about was that your cubby was far from others and that everyone else greeted you, you just didn't hear because you were spaced out.

Another thing that confirmed your overthinking was when you heard everyone else talking about some kind of team building that supposedly happened yesterday. This was the first time you heard something about that. Did they forget to invite you?

„I can't believe you did that! You and Mapi need to stop challenging each other.“ You heard Lucy say. The fear of missing out was triggering slowly.

„You're right about that, I think it's time for us to stop with that bullshit, “ Patri said with a laugh following, „What I'm more surprised about was that Alexia let us do it at her place!“

Alexia's place? Alexia hosted the team building night. And she forgot to invite you? Or she just didn't want you there and that's why she didn't invite you?

Your head started to spin. You quickly rushed to the bathroom, sat down on a toilet, and tried to calm down. It must've been a misunderstanding of some kind. Right?

You tried to convince yourself. You haven't heard from Alexia in a while, since she was still out because of the small injury. Maybe she got bored of you, she didn't want some stupid 20-year-old bothering her all the fucking time. Your head was just getting worse.

When you managed to calm down, you walked back to the locker room you saw that you were the last one there.

After a long day you had, you finally arrived home, you got into your apartment, locked your doors, and just left your training bag on the floor next to the door. You were too emotionally drained to go shower and too tired to go to the bedroom you found your couch and just laid down and just….stared at the ceiling.

At some point in the day, you fell asleep. You woke up the next day, and you were still too tired to move, you just sent a text to Jona that you weren't feeling well and that you wouldn't be attending training today. But you also realized that you didn't get any messages from anyone, literally nobody texted you. No one needed you.

You threw the phone away and continued with what you know best. Overthinking.

As you were just laying there, silent crying, the tears were just flowing out of your eyes, and you realized something.

YOU were the one who always checked up on others when they were missing from training. YOU were always the first one to text someone when you were planning something. YOU were always the one to make sure everyone got home safe after a night out.

That's right there.

That right there was what you kids these days call, your last straw. Your thirteenth reason.

At the Barça's training grounds, Alexia finally got back to train with the team, and she was really happy and excited about it. She greeted everyone on the way to the locked room. When she walked into the locker room, everyone cheered, like the queen just walked in…which she is.

The first question she asked was „Where's y/n?“ that made everyone look around and see that you indeed weren't there.

„Oh, shit, I knew that something was missing here, “Lucy said. After that everyone got on the field and Jona said that you weren't feeling well. Everyone just nodded with understanding but Alexia didn't buy it. Something wasn't right. You never miss training, even when you don't feel good.

At your apartment, you made progress... you went from the couch to the floor, since you always loved laying or sitting on the floor because it was comfortable. Still thinking how you're worthless and that no one wants you to be here. You finally took your phone and scrolled through social media, where were all the photos and videos posted from the team hangout. You saw how much fun they had... without you.

They were better off…without you.

You were a burden.

You saw the recent stories that everyone posted. Even Alexia. But still not one message.

The training finished and Alexia drove straight to your apartment. Fortunately, it wasn't far from the training grounds or her apartment, so she arrived pretty fast.

She walked up to the door and knocked. No answer. That made her knock a little louder.

„Y/n, please open up I know you can hear me.“ Alexia begged.

The knocking and the yelling made you snap out of it. You stood up and slowly walked to the door. You opened them but not fully.

„What are you doing here, Alexia?“ you asked tiredly. You didn't know how to feel about this visit.

„Um, are you gonna let me in or will I have to let myself in?“ she asked with a raised eyebrow.

You just sighed and moved to open the doors fully and let her in. When she walked in, she took a look around your place and then turned back to you and actually at your appearance.

„Are you okay? Are you sick? What's the matter?“ she asked with all seriousness. Every person who looks into her eyes can see that she cares, but not your eyes or your head.

„Why do you care?“ you said with a scoff and walked towards the living room.

That comment made Alexia confused. Why wouldn't she care?

„Of course, I care. You never miss a training even when you're not feeling well, you would attend a training. Even though I sometimes disagree with that you're stubborn“

„Sure you do.“

„Y/n, what is this about? Why are you acting like this?“

„ACTING LIKE WHAT, ALEXIA? Tell me, acting like fucking what?!“ you threw it at her. It took her by surprise, she didn't expect this from you.

„Don't yell at me! I'm your captain, and I ne- „

Of course, Alexia fucking Putellas!! Captain of FC Barcelona. Only cares about her team and the reputation of her team and that HER team makes HER look good in front of everyone else. She's always „busy“ with, so-called captain duties, that she can't even text me, or answer her phone when I call her. ESPECIALLY WHEN I NEED HER THE MOST!!“ you were just spitting everything out. It made you feel good. You couldn't stop, for once you made yourself feel better.

„ I'm so fucking tired Alexia…Why am I such a burden to you? Do you not like me or something? What did I do to you that made you hate me so fucking much? If I bother you so much, you should just tell me. Also, the whole fucking team hates me. I thought that for once I could say that I belonged somewhere, but no. I'm always the second choice or the third most of the time the last choice. No one wants me in this team…I'm a terrible player, I'll never be like you or Mariona or Caro.“ You broke totally. You started to sob. Alexia couldn't watch you like this, she wanted to help you and the first thing she thought of was to pull you in the biggest hug.

When you felt her arms around you, you broke down completely. She held you for a good while, her shirt stained from your tears, she couldn't care less.

You finally stopped shaking and calmed down. When you you were ready, Alexia pulled away but not totally. She put her hands on your shoulders and made you look at her, so you hear her out.

„First of all, I want to apologize for not checking up on you more often, especially now since I understand you're having a hard time. I would also like to apologize for not answering your calls but I have really been busy and I was planning on calling you back I just forgot. Second of all, if I ever hear you talk like that about yourself I'll personally kick your ass,“ as she was telling you this, you finally managed to look at her. You saw her eyes a little glassed because of her tears.

„I see you as my little sister, you're not a burden, y/n. And I want you to remember that. I don't know what made you think that but I'm sorry if I made you feel like that. And also if you want I can talk to the team about that but I can tell you for sure that everyone adores you.“ You listened to her and tried to trust the words that she was saying but your head was a little louder.

„ And I also wanted to say, you'll never be like Mariona, Caro, or me. You'll be way better than us combined, especially if you continue to work as hard as you do now. I idolize your hard-working habits.“ She finished her speech. And you believed her. For once, you think you have someone who will hear you out when you have this kind of episode.

„Do you mean that?“ you asked her hesitantly.

„Yes, I do. And when next time you feel like this, I want you to come to me. Even if I'm busy, I'll make time for you.“ She said and gave you a small smile.

You smiled back at her and pulled her in a hug. You needed one after a few very emotional days.

„Now, will you tell me what made you feel this way?“ she said while pulling away.

You rubbed your neck nervously while trying to form a normal sentence.

„Well, um, I sometimes have these episodes when I get really into my head and just think little of myself. Also, some events from my past just encourage those episodes to come out. And also when I saw some pictures online from the other day from your place…it just made it worse“ you told her.

„Okay, when another episode of this is about to come out, let me know. And what do you mean the picture from my place?“

„Well I heard that there was some kind of a team hangout at your place and I wasn't invited and my fear of missing out was getting the best of me…it made my episode worse“

„Ooh that hangout out“Alexia chuckled after that „It wasn't a real hang out, it was kinda spontaneous because my sister got engaged and she's friends with most of my teammates so we just celebrated at my place.“

You face palmed yourself. Alexia just laughed at you. You couldn't believe yourself right now.

„ It's alright, hermanita. Don't be so hard on yourself“ Alexia tried to comfort you.

„Thank you, Ale. So much, and I'm sorry for bothering you with my shit..again“

„Don't have to thank me, just score my goals for my team so it makes me look good as captain in front of everyone“ she teased you.

„oh god, I don't know how that came out of my mouth, I'm so sorry“ you apologized.

Alexia just laughed at your, „You don't have to say sorry for everything, it's okay you were emotional and you needed to take it out on someone“

You were thankful that Alexia was this understanding. Younger you wouldn't believe you if you told her that you're crying in front of Alexia Putellas and she's comforting you.

„If you don't mind me asking. What exactly happened in the past that made it so bad?“ she asked with a curious look

„If I start now I won't stop until tomorrow. It's a long story“

„Oh, would you look at that I'm free today. So start from the beginning.“

And so you did. You told her everything, from A to Z. You finally opened up to someone after a long time. And it felt good. It made it easier because Alexia was call, patient, and understanding. After that you were more open with everyone and communicated way more than before.

But if it weren't for Alexia, you'd probably be still lying on that floor and staring at the ceiling.

#woso #barca femeni #fc barcelona femeni #barça femeni #sefutbol fem #espwnt #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #woso x reader #barca femini x reader

406 notes · View notes

themultifanshipper · 3 months

Text

The crash was horrible. You scared yourself and everyone else when your car hit the wall with a sickening crunch. But the person you scared the most was Sebastian.

Warnings: Smut, oral, squirting, plot is similar to my other Seb fic (it was based on the same prompt) but this one is more angsty and fluffy and the vibes are completely opposite lmao, but the smut is also disgusting, barely edited tbh

His car had minimal damage, so he was just going to carry on, but the glare of flames in his mirrors was enough for him to panic and stop the car to go and help get you out of the flaming wreck, despite Christian shouting at him to continue over the radio. He just couldn’t leave you, never mind what he portrayed to the cameras, you meant too much to him and he would never have forgiven himself if he’d been that selfish.

But by the time he got there you were already out of the car, being helped across the gravel by a marshal. As he approached, you threw your helmet at him and screamed.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING? PULLING A MOVE LIKE THAT YOU COULD HAVE GOT US KILLED! DO YOU THINK YOU'RE MICHAEL SCHUMACHER OR SOMETHING YOU B-"

You jumped on each other at the same time, scratching and punching at each other like children, and the marshal was forced to call for reinforcements to get you separated.

Later, during post-race interviews (you'd both been banned from the press conference) you were asked what happened and you got incredibly wound up again just talking about how careless and dangerous Seb’s move was.

Your press officer moved you off quickly to avoid any further incidents, but unfortunately for her Seb arrived at that moment, and you noticed that he looked rather pale, but that didn’t stop him from going straight to the interviewer you were just talking to.

“So, Seb, tell me about the incident, and what do you think of your rivalry with, uhh-” She glanced over to where you were standing only a few feet away, waiting.

Seb looked at you before answering. “She’s a promising talent, and no doubt she is beautiful, but she shouldn’t be in formula one.”

Before you could jump on him and cause another scene, you were dragged away to your post-race debrief before being sent back to the hotel.

Unbelievable! You crashed because of him, ruining both your races. And he had the audacity to say you didn’t belong in formula one? What a fucking joke! To say he was out of line would be an understatement, but of course, if you complained you would just be labelled as emotional, or immature, or god forbid, on your period. That’s one you had gotten once during an interview and the man swiftly ended up with a broken nose, which of course didn’t help your image, but it felt good none the less. What didn’t feel good was how little Seb had seemed to care about what happened. He could have killed you, he could have killed himself.

Hours later, you were still seething with rage when you heard a knock at the door.

The last person you expected to see when you opened it was Seb.

“I have nothing to say to you” You tried to slam the door in his face but he blocked it with his foot, making him wince.

“I know, but I just want you to know that I wasn’t playing for the cameras when I ran to get you on the track, I was worried I had caused you-“

“Oh give me a break! You crashed and saw an opportunity to look like the bigger person and come recue the damsel in distress but guess what? I didn’t NEED you Seb!”

“No, I didn’t crash! Christian told me to keep going but I stopped the car for you!”

You frowned at him, gears turning in your mind. “You stopped the car? Why the hell would you do that?”

He sighed frustratedly “Because I panicked! I saw fire and I was worried about you!”

“Oooh you were worried about me!” You parroted in the meanest tone you could muster, ignoring the beating of your heart at his words “You were worried about me because I don’t belong in this tough manly sport of yours is that it?”

He paused at your words, seemingly hurt at the implications behind them.

“You shouldn’t be in formula one, I stand by that. But not because you’re a woman, or a bad driver. It’s because I don’t want you in formula one. I don’t want you to be in that kind of danger, and I would never forgive myself if something happened to you on my watch!”

Tears prickled your eyes as you took a step back from him. “So I should just give it all up huh? I should give up my dream just because you’re scared of hurting me? What the fuck is wrong with you? I chose this! I chose motorsports for the adrenaline! The competition! The passion! What I didn’t sign up for was you crashing into me every chance you get because you can’t handle being beaten by a girl!”

Tears were properly streaming down your face by now, and you went to push Seb out of your room, but he caught your arms and pinned you against the door instead.

“Let me go Seb! Get out!”

No! You’re misunderstanding me and I’m not leaving until I’ve said what I came to say! I care about you because despite you being a constant bitch around me, I’ve seen your real personality! And as much as you hate me, I just can’t bring myself to hate you! I didn’t want to save you to look like a hero, I wanted to save you because the thought of losing you was just-” he got choked up and you could see tears forming in his eyes as they stared intently into yours. “It… I-” He took a deep breath “It would have been too painful.”

You gulped. “Seb, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I love you, and I’ve loved you since-“

You surged forward and kissed him.

He reciprocated quickly, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you in closer.

You honestly couldn’t say how long the two of you made out in the dark corner of your room for, but after a while you both ran out of oxygen and had to separate, breathing hard. His hands slid down to your thighs, picking you up easily and carrying you swiftly to the bed.

It became a competition to see who could get their clothes off faster, and you laughed at each other as you struggled to get your race suits off.

Once you were both naked, he climbed over you and started the long expedition over your curves and dips, kissing and marking every expanse of skin he came across. You writhed and squirmed at the attention, needing him to just get on with it. When he finally got up to your mouth, he was hard and you could feel his dick poking at your thigh.

“Please Seb, I need you to fuck me now” you whined, wrapping your legs around his waist to get him closer, but he refused, instead sitting backwards and kneeling between your legs to get a look at you.

“Calm down Schatz, I need to prepare you first, I don’t want to hurt you” he said soothingly, running his hands up and down your thighs before stopping just shy of your folds, using his thumbs to spread you open for him.

“God you are so wet for me” he groaned and dipped a thumb inside before bringing it to his mouth, sucking your juices off and groaning even louder. “And you taste so good, baby, fuck!”

He dipped a finger in gently, then two and pumped them a few times, making you mewl, before pulling them out and sucking them clean.

“I’m obsessed” he panted “I’m sorry baby, I need to taste more.” And with that he dove down and devoured you like a man starved, running his tongue over your lips and clit with gusto. His fingers soon joined and he hit that spot immediately, over and over. You quickly felt an orgasm building in your loins as your thighs tightened around his head and you fingers tugged on his hair.

“Seb, I’m so close baby!”

“I know” he growled and doubled down on his efforts, making you writhe in pleasure as the pressure building in your stomach became too much as he assaulted your clit with his talented mouth.

Your orgasm hit you so hard you couldn’t even get a breath in to make any noise as you came all over his face and chest.

He sat up over you and you saw that his hair was drenched, plastered to his forehead as drops of your cum slid down his nose and landed on your body.

He was grinning like a maniac, ecstatic at having made you come so hard you squirted on him.

“That’s never happened before!” you panted but he just smashed his lips to yours and grabbed your face, spreading wetness all over you both as his chest lay over yours.

It was disgusting.

But so, so incredibly hot.

“Fuck me now, please Seb?”

“Okay Schatz, your wish is my command” and with no further ado, he rubbed his tip through your folds a few times before sinking into you all the way to the hilt.

He was so thick it was hard to breathe as the stretch knocked the breath from your lungs, and you clung on to him for dear life.

It didn’t take either of you long to come, and you did so almost simultaneously, foreheads touching, breathing in each other’s air, wrapped around each other as tight as possible.

You being incapable of walking just yet, he carried you to the shower and helped you wash, giggling as the sensation of his hands scrubbing over your skin made you ticklish.

It’s only when you got out of the shower and looked in the mirror that you noticed the marks he had left from his earlier ministrations. Small bruises littered your legs, hips, stomach, chest and neck.

“Dammit Sebastian! It’s summer and you’ve turned me into a dalmatian!” You shrieked, but he just laughed and smacked your ass on his way back to the bedroom.

“I’m serious! I can’t go out in public like this!”

He came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing your shoulder. “Now everyone can stop flirting with you”

You tuned around in his arms “Awww, is my Sebby jealous?” You cooed.

He huffed “I am not jealous, but I am yours” he smiled, leaning down and kissing you.

He finally had you after years of loving you, and he was going to savour every second of it.

Of course the first person you saw the next morning was Jenson freaking Button.

He took one look at you, in shorts and a tank top, dozens of hickeys on display, then at Seb who had just appeared behind you in the lobby, connected the dots immediately and shrieked in laughter, attracting the attention of the few other drivers who had come down early for breakfast.

You were never living this down.

#my thots #sebastian thots #sebastian vettel smut #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel #sv5 #f1 #formula 1

277 notes · View notes

mostlymihawk · 2 months

Text

Getting Sick!

Straw Hat Crew (+ Shanks + Mihawk) x GN reader

Prompt: How they react to you getting sick.

CW: Emetophobia (throwing up)

Luffy:

Completely useless.

The man's made of rubber, he doesn't have a clue what to do.

"Um...it's gonna be okay? It's gonna be okay, right?"

You have to ask him for everything.

Does carry you to bed when asked, and will happily snuggle you.

Then asks if you want something to eat.

Food is the solution, and refuses to understand that food can also be the problem.

Nami:

Holds your hair and runs her fingers through it at the same time.

Also dabbing your face and neck with a cold cloth.

Certified professional make-it-better-er.

She did a lot of throwing up when she was younger.

Childhood trauma combined with lying to your sister and working for your mother's murderer will do that.

Knows exactly what she would have wanted, and gives it all to you.

"It's gonna be okay. I've got you, sweetheart."

Keeps tabs on your temperature to make sure this isn't a symptom of something bigger.

Refuses to let you out of bed until you're 100% better.

Zoro:

Keeps his face carefully blank and gently rubs your back.

Looking away the whole time.

You know him well enough to know he does not want to be doing this.

Handles blood just fine but this is a whole other ballgame and he wants no part of it.

Happily helps you to bed after, because it means the gross part is over.

"Better out than in...I guess."

Then he remembers someone has to take care of the cleanup.

Tries to frame it as discipline training to make it better.

Usopp:

Useless, but tries his best.

"Do you need a cloth? Some water? I can get, uh...fresh pair of clothes?"

Standing outside the door, so you croak out what you need and he runs to get it for you.

Needs to be filling the silence.

If he's not asking you something and you're not answering he's talking about how this reminds him of that one time in the Forest of Doom...

Spends the whole night telling stories to help you get to sleep.

Gets a lot better when he realizes this isn't all that much different than barnacles and bird poop.

Unfortunately, the worst of it has already passed by then.

Confidently assures you he'll be ready for next time, though.

Sanji:

As a gentleman, it's his duty to take care of his significant other when they're sick.

He's damn good at it too.

That doesn't mean he has to like it.

His face is pinched as his thumb gently rubs your back, he dabs your face and neck, and offers you sips of water when you can manage it.

"You're alright, sweetheart. A little bit of my tender love and care and you'll be on your feet in no time."

And then he notices the colour, not unlike the blueberry reduction from the dessert you'd asked for after lunch.

Gently helps you to your room, and it's not until the next day that you notice anything is amiss.

In. con. solable.

No one has ever gotten sick from his food before. Ever.

Refuses to serve food.

The Straw Hats have to turn back to Baratie so Zeff can literally beat some sense into him.

Shanks:

Bonus!

This crew loves its alcohol way too much for Shanks to be even the slightest bit bothered by a little vomit.

Sits by your side, dabbing your face, rubbing your back, completely unfazed, cracking jokes the entire time.

"Snuck into the hold and had yourself a little party without me, did you?"

Knows exactly what to do to help you feel better.

Again, the crew loves alcohol too much for anything else to be true.

Cuddles. So many cuddles.

This crew is too experienced to let a sick crew member come back to work early, so despite the unserious approach you're on strict bedrest.

The whole crew makes fun of you...but only once you've recovered.

Mihawk:

This is not a man who routinely deals with people being sick.

Confused.

Why are you sick.

Who caused this.

Who does he need to kill.

(It's whoever cooked your dinner at that restaurant you went to last night, but you don't tell him that.)

Completely repulsed, does not let it show on his face while he tends to you.

Rubs your back very gently, and uses a cool cloth to wipe the sweat off your face.

Helps you to bed, sits up and lets you lean against his chest so you're upright, and encourages a few sips of water.

"Get some rest, my jewel."

The next day there's a doctor at your bedside.

You don't need a doctor, but the look on Mihawk's face says this is non-negotiable.

#mihawk x reader #sanji x reader #luffy x reader #nami x reader #usopp x reader #zoro x reader #shanks x reader #opla imagine

382 notes · View notes

wlntrsldler · 6 months

Text

poisoned mercury | close as strangers (post chb)

a/n: okayyyy so i didn't give them an angst ending but i had to give into the angst monster at least once for this series so here's a bonus chapter for poisoned mercury. miscommunication galore. long distance is hard! two dumbasses in love!

song: close as strangers by 5sos

series masterlist | previous | next

"i'll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?" luke whispered, trying not to wake his bandmates up. the tour bus was large enough to house them while they were on the road, but it didn't really give the privacy he hoped for. chris was just across the narrow walkway from him and luke could hear his soft snores through the thin curtain that separated them.

luke felt his heart hammering in his chest when you didn't reply to him. he could still hear your breaths through the phone and you were just talking to him a second ago, so he knew you were still awake. you both had equally busy lives which meant that your phone calls were getting shorter and shorter each day. luke knew it was because you were booked with school and tournaments for field hockey and he was always exhausted after each meeting now that the band was working on their second album. luke knew all of this, but it didn't stop him from missing you. he was lucky to get a ten-minute call with you nowadays.

"baby?" he tried again, chewing on his bottom lip. he turned to face the ceiling of his bunk, the light from his phone casting a shadow on his face as he waited for you to say something. anything. "can i call you tomorrow?"

you sighed, "i don't know, luke. i have a busy day. it's a travel game tomorrow so i don't know if i'll be up late."

"oh," he cleared his throat, trying to hide his disappointment. he felt a little stupid that there were tears pooling in his eyes. so you can't talk tomorrow, it shouldn't be a big deal, right? except that luke felt like you were pulling away from him. little by little. and he didn't know how to stop it. it wasn't like he could drop everything to show up at your doorstep and fix things with you. if it was up to him, he would do it in a heartbeat, but you'd probably get mad at him for it, for abandoning his responsibilities as the lead singer of the most popular band in the world. not to mention the boys would be livid and mr. d and his mom would be equally furious.

"sorry, maybe next week?"

"yeah, sure," he replied, thankful that you weren't on facetime tonight. he didn't want you to see his face. "alright, i'll let you get some rest. go kill it tomorrow. g'night, five star."

"goodnight," you said, ending the call as soon as the last syllable left your lips.

luke groaned quietly, tossing his phone on the foot of his bed. he knew long distance was going to be difficult. it's been months since he last saw you, months since he was at camp half blood, sleeping in your bed and waking up to the feeling of your lips peppering kisses on his face. maybe he shouldn't have gotten so attached so fast, but it wasn't like he had a choice in the matter.

he got out from his bunk, tucking his feet into his slippers and made his way to the living room area of the bus. he sat on the couch, peering out the window to watch the empty roads ahead. they were on their way to nashville to meet with a producer that mr. d recommended. the second album was almost done, but it was missing something and none of them wanted to put out a record that didn't meet their expectations.

mr. d was already in tennessee waiting for them. he'd flown in from houston a few days ago with luke's mom and the rest of the poisoned mercury team while the boys were in atlanta for a movie premiere. they decided that a road trip was needed to de-stress after the glitz and buzz of the red carpet. it was nice to have some alone time with the boys. in their tour bus, luke felt like they were back in connecticut, just four friends fucking around, writing music, and eating junk food until their stomachs hurt.

he turned on the tv, switching to some random channel that he wasn't paying attention to. he just needed some noise to drown out his thoughts, but that didn't seem to work. all he could think of was you, his five star, and how much he missed you. luke wondered if you were having second thoughts about this whole thing. maybe he'd been too optimistic about things; maybe you weren't on the same page as he was; maybe you realized that it was too difficult to be with him.

a shiver ran down his spine as he spiraled into his thoughts. admitting to himself that something was wrong between the two of you left a bitter taste in his mouth because he didn't want to believe it. he saw you as his endgame, like nobody else in the world could compare to you, and to think that you may not feel the same about him... well, it was a difficult pill to swallow.

he wondered if he came on too strong, showed his cards too early, and seemed too clingy and lovestruck before it was deemed appropriate. you'd only been together, officially at least, for four months, most of which were long distance, but luke knew he was a goner for you way before that.

he silently cursed as the chill of the december air hit his skin. he should've worn a hoodie. he grabbed the small throw blanket draped over the armchair and placed it around his shoulders. he wished he got to see you over thanksgiving break because maybe you two wouldn't be in this rocky situation right now, but your coach ordered you and clarisse to stay on campus over break to sharpen your skills since you missed summer training. luke and chris were less than pleased with the idea, but they knew it was out of their control.

luke fell asleep on the couch that night after succumbing to the tiredness in his body. the sun was beginning to rise by the time his eyelids fluttered shut. he hoped that he'd wake up to a text from you, but when he woke up to the sound of the bus screeching to a halt in nashville, he realized it was the hope that kills.

“are you guys going to the fall concert?” silena asked, poking her head out of the bathroom. she was part of the planning committee for the unc fall semester concert and she’d been stressing over the logistics of it for weeks.

“lena, if we even tried to miss it, you’d kill us,” clarisse chuckled, putting on a coat of mascara. “you’ve been talking about this since we got back.”

the three of you were getting ready in your dorm. you and clarisse were roommates this year, thank gods for athlete privileges, and silena lived in the building next door in a single since she was an ra. how she had the time to be an ra, be a member of the music festival planning committee, and be a full-time student was truly beyond your comprehension.

“lena, calm down. it’ll be good,” you squeezed her shoulders as you passed by behind her, grabbing your lipgloss from the counter. “and even if it sucks, half the people in the crowd are either drunk or high or both and will probably not remember it.”

“true,” she snorted, curling the final piece of her hair. she unplugged her hair curler and gave herself one last look in the mirror, “i’ll see you guys there? i gotta go make sure shit didn’t hit the fan.”

you and clarisse nodded as silena said her goodbyes. you dabbed on some lipgloss, glancing down at your phone every few seconds. clarisse side-eyed you, unable to hide her smile, “you waitin’ for a text?”

“shut up,” you rolled your eyes at her teasing tone. she didn't really know that your relationship was a little muddy at the moment. you weren’t the best at talking about your feelings and it felt wrong to talk about your relationship drama when clarisse and chris seemed to be going strong. “they’re supposed to land in los angeles ten minutes ago.”

“their flight probably got delayed, y/n,” she replied, “happens all the time.”

“no, i know, but just wanna make sure they’re safe, y’know?”

clarisse crossed her arms over her chest, “they’re safe or he’s safe?”

you ignored her question, opting to busy yourself with the weather app on your phone to avoid any follow-up questions, “how are you not checking your phone for a text from chris right now?”

she shrugged, “he always knocks out on long flights so i don’t expect a text until he gets to their hotel.”

“how are you and chris, by the way? i know we live together and shit, but i feel like we haven’t gotten to talk about it in detail since we’re always so tired from school and practice.”

“we’re good,” clarisse hummed, “just miss him loads, though. i haven’t seen him since we left camp– what? four, almost five, months ago?”

you were in the same boat, kind of. you and luke hadn’t seen each other in months and you were getting antsy. they’d been on the road for the past few months, meeting with producers and fulfilling their contractual obligations. they hadn’t been in a set location long enough for you to be able to fly out to see luke, even just for a weekend.

at first, there were movie dates where you’d order each other food and eat and watch the movie on facetime together. there were weekly phone calls and daily texts, but nothing compares to the real thing. being with luke in person was something that you were craving. camp half blood spoiled you with having him all for yourself and now that you were back in school and he’s out in the world, it was beginning to weigh on you.

you missed him. a lot.

you missed kissing him and feeling his lips break out into a smile when you’d mumble something stupid. you missed feeling his arms around you, hugging you from behind while you got ready for the day. you even missed waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of him scribbling random lyrics on pieces of scrap paper he found in your room when he slept over.

long distance is hard and sure, luke wouldn’t be the type to cheat or do anything to jeopardize your relationship, but it still didn’t stop a knot from forming in your stomach every time a picture of him or the band popped up on your social media with a gorgeous singer, actor, or model that they ran into on the red carpet. what if he realizes one day that he wants someone who lives the same life as him? wild and adventurous, not tied down by school or sports?

a part of you felt silly for being so insecure about things. it was too early in the relationship to have this conversation, isn’t it? you knew that your avoidance of the topic was starting to affect your relationship with luke, as much as you wished it didn’t, but what if the minute you voice your concerns, he’ll realize that being with you was more than he bargained for? after all, you weren’t the same five star with all the time in her hands, care-free, and relaxed that he met at camp. there was a chance that luke would call it quits on this if you said anything and it felt like too big of a risk to take.

your phone buzzed on the counter, indicating a text.

from: luke <3

‘landed and jetlagged. gonna sleep for a few. enjoy the concert babe!’

you hearted the message and slipped your phone into your back pocket after sending him a quick goodnight text. the three dots popped up for a second, then in a blink, they disappeared. read at 8:43 pm.

“you ready?”

you snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of clarisse’s voice. you nodded and grabbed your small purse before heading out the door. you ran into a group of your teammates who were heading to the amphitheater across campus for the concert. the walk seemed to fly by as they cracked jokes and shared stories about random things. you stayed silent for the most part, only laughing along when it seemed like the right time, but your mind was somewhere else. your mind was in los angeles.

by the time you got to the venue, you and clarisse separated from the group to enter the vip tent, courtesy of silena. a small crowd was beginning to form in front of the stage, taking up the grassy field. charlie was already at the tent, sipping on an ipa when he saw the two of you. his face broke out into a wide smile, giving you and clarisse a quick hug before leading you to the seats he saved.

“season’s looking promising for you guys, charlie,” you commented, accepting the high noon he offered. “the team’s looking good out there.”

“thanks,” he beamed, “don’t think we’re on the level of national champs just yet like you guys, but we’re trying!”

“you guys are doing great,” clarisse chimed in, “the energy in the stadium is electric this year. makes me love college.”

“are you telling me the papers and tests aren’t what makes you love college, la rue?” charlie teased.

she snorted, “oh yeah, because i just love staying up until 1 am writing a paper on greek mythology for classics 101.”

the three of you fell into a comfortable conversation about the class you were all taking. it was a prerequisite class that most athletes choose to take because the professor was flexible with deadlines when it came to athletes. it was helpful especially when a team has to play beyond their season for tournaments or championships. about ten minutes before the opening act got on stage, silena rushed into the tent.

“guys, please you need to come with me. i need your help,” she said frantically. she was nervously tugging on her ‘staff’ badge around her neck, already halfway out of the tent as she waited for the three of you to follow her. “please, it’s an emergency.”

“woah, lena, what’s going on?” you asked, getting up to comfort her. you followed her through the crowd, grabbing clarisse’s hand to keep her close.

silena shook her head, continuing her march through the sea of people, “just come with me, i’ll explain when we get backstage.”

you and clarisse looked at each other, feeling bad for silena. she put in her blood, sweat, and tears into this concert and you knew that she would beat herself up over it if something went wrong. silena always put her all into the projects she’s passionate about, but sometimes things outside of her control happen and unfortunately, she blames herself for it.

in the whirlwind of ‘excuse me’s’ and ‘sorry’s’, the four of you managed to make your way backstage. it was chaotic. people were running around everywhere making sure everything was set for the opening act. the girl who was opening the concert was waiting by the wings, her guitar strapped across her chest as she took some deep breaths. the crowd wasn’t full yet, but you knew that if you were in that position, you’d still be sweating buckets. going out there on stage to perform for strangers was nerve-racking. you didn’t know how luke did it. you admired that about him.

“lena, are you gonna tell us what’s going on?” clarisse questioned, picking up the pace of her steps to match silena.

silena stopped in front of a door, slowly turning to face you and clarisse. suddenly, her stressed facade faded as she twisted the doorknob, “why don’t you see for yourself?”

if you weren’t so confused about what was going on, you would’ve seen charlie lift his can up to his lips to hide his smile at how proud he was of his girlfriend for her acting skills. when the door opened, your heart stopped.

luke was here.

he stood in the middle of the room beside chris with a nervous smile on his face. he was wearing a black leather jacket on top of a white tank top and black pants. his poisoned mercury chain hung from his neck, shining under the overhead lights. his hands were stuffed in his front pockets, shy and timid, as he waited for your reaction.

clarisse screamed when it hit her that chris was actually here. she ran to him and nearly tackled him to the floor. chris wrapped his arms around his girlfriend and laughed as she giggled into his neck. the two of them shared a heartfelt reunion before rushing out of the room to get some privacy. the sound of the door shutting behind you made you blink.

luke cleared his throat, right hand scratching the back of his neck, “hey, five star.”

the nickname brought you back to your senses. you ran to him, engulfing him in a tight hug with an ‘umph.’ at first, luke was tense under your touch, unsure if you’d be happy with his surprise, but quickly, he melted into you. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, sighing in content as your familiar scent surrounded him. he felt sparks coursing through his veins as you hugged him tighter and all he could think about was how good it felt to have you in his arms again. his mind was still reeling at your reaction. he didn’t expect you to run to him like this, especially not when it felt like you’d been avoiding his calls over the last few weeks.

“what are you doing here?” you asked him, pulling away to hold his face in your hands. your eyes twinkled as you raked over his face, still in disbelief that he was actually in front of you. “you’re supposed to be in la.”

luke couldn’t stop the lopsided smile on his face, “well, i lied? we were in nashville recording with your dad and he mentioned that he didn’t schedule a session for us this weekend in case me and chris wanted to take a trip to north carolina, so here we are.”

you ran your thumbs over his cheekbones, whispering, “here you are.”

“god, i missed you so much,” he said, voice breaking. “you have no idea how hard it’s been.”

you gulped, your hold on his face faltering a bit. if luke wasn’t on edge, he wouldn’t have noticed the falter in your step, but he felt the slight hesitation in your actions. your warm touch slowly peeled away from his face and he instantly regretted saying those words. here he goes being clingy again. he removed his hands from your waist, clearing his throat. he sat on the couch, motioning for you to sit beside him. he tried to keep his hands to himself when you left a space between the two of you.

“i still can’t believe you’re really here,” you said, staring at him. you wanted to lean over and hold him in your arms again, but there was a weird tension in the air that made you feel queasy. “i feel like i’m dreaming right now.”

“i hope you’re not mad that i’m here,” luke looked down at his lap, flexing his hands. he had to keep his hands busy or else he’d surely reach for yours and he didn’t want to come on too strong. he had to keep his distance. he didn’t want to scare you off any more than he already did. “there was just an opening in the schedule and i-i wanted to see you.”

“i’m not mad at all.”

“good, good,” he replied. silence. he forced himself to look up from his lap, twisting his body to face you. he bit his bottom lip, trying to build up the courage to ask his next question. “are we okay?”

“we’re okay.”

“okay because i feel like things have been different between us lately,” he pursed his lips, looking at you with sad eyes. his tongue poked out the corner of his lips, eyes darting between you and the wall behind you. “i don’t know. i feel like we haven’t talked in ages, y’know? and i know you’re busy and you have a great life here that i’m not really a part of, but uh, i wanna be, y’know? i don’t know much about school or field hockey, but it’s important to you and you’re important to me so i wanna hear about it.”

he was met with more silence. luke continued, “maybe i’m asking for too much when i ask you to let me be a part of this life, but uh, i miss you? and i just feel like i’m losing you and that’s the last thing i want. so you gotta give me something, five star. tell me what i can do to be better.”

“if you need me to back off, i’ll do it, you know? you call the shots. you tell me what you need from me, and i’ll do it, okay? i just– i can’t lose this. i don’t wanna lose you,” luke mumbled. “maybe this is all in my head too. i don’t know anymore.”

you shuddered, lip quivering, “i feel like i’m holding you back.”

“what?”

“come on, luke,” you flicked away the tear that trickled down your cheek, “you’re out there in the world doing what you love. meeting new people. living your life and i don’t want to hold you back from that. we met each other when i didn’t have all these responsibilities and who i was at camp is not who i am here and i know you love those impromptu adventures and trips and spontaneity. a-and i can’t give that to you.”

“you deserve someone who can live this life with you and i’m stuck here for two more years, luke. i can’t do that,” it was getting hard to breathe. your throat felt like it was closing up, cutting off your airflow. you’d been putting off this conversation for weeks. it didn’t feel right to talk about this over the phone, and you thought that you had a few more weeks to figure out what to say to him when you saw him for winter break, but he was here now. “you deserve more than facetime calls and text messages, and that’s all i can offer.”

“is this–” he paused, licking his lips. “is this not what you want anymore?”

“what?”

“this, us? is this just not what you want anymore?”

an involuntary laugh escaped you as you wiped under your eye, “castellan, i don’t think i could stop wanting you even if i wanted to. and you know when we first met, i really wanted to.”

luke moved closer to you, just an inch or two, trying to gauge your reaction. you didn’t move away, which he took as a good sign, “i’m confused. why do you sound like you want to end this then?”

“i don’t want you to settle for this,” you sighed, “i know what you deserve and it isn’t this.”

“bullshit.”

you furrowed your eyebrows, looking at him in disbelief, “what?”

“i’m sorry, five star, but that’s bullshit,” a small smile was tugging on his lips. he reached over to place a hand over yours. his fingers traced your knuckles, running the pads of his fingers across the familiar ridges of your skin. “i don’t understand how after all this time you still don’t realize that all i want is you. it’s ridiculous, really.”

“it’s ridiculous?”

“it’s ridiculous,” he chuckled wetly. his other hand rubbed at his eyes, clearing his foggy vision. “our situation isn’t ideal, i know that, but i’d take long distance with you over anything else with anyone else. don’t you get it, five star? you’re it for me. if this isn’t what you want anymore, i’ll accept that. but if you’re only doing this because you don’t think i want this… five star, i want it all with you. long distance. phone calls. text messages. weekend trips when we can get them. distance has nothing on how i feel about you.”

leave it to luke castellan to make you blush. you shyly looked at him, eyes twinkling with something more than either of you bargained for when you first met in that secret spot you call yours, “how do you feel about me?”

“i’m not gonna say it right now because i don’t want to have the first time be while we’re in a fight,” luke laughed. the air was starting to clear. “but i have a feeling you know.”

“i know,” you squeezed his hand three times, “i do too.”

“will you put me out of my misery and kiss me please?”

“always so fucking dramatic,” you scoffed, playfully rolling your eyes, but you leaned over and pressed your lips to his.

#frances writes #poisoned mercury #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke pjo #luke castellan #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n

333 notes · View notes

mouseymilkovich · 2 months

Text

Speechless | Carmy x Reader | Chapter Four

previous chapter | masterlist | playlist | pinterest board | next chapter

Chapter Summary: You find yourself once again volunteering at The Beef while Carmy and Richie cater a party for Cicero, you make more connections with The Beef staff, but you miss him. Sydney is suspicious that something is up with you, big time, it's becoming increasingly difficult to hide things from her. What the hell have you gotten yourself into? | Carmy Berzatto x fem/afab reader (using they/them pronouns)

Content Tags: the "incident" from s01e04 (xanax mentioned multiple times), secret relationship/fwb, smut btc, unprotected sex, pregnancy worry + mentions of plan B pill

Important Info: the usual, when texting pink = reader, green = Sydney, blue = Carmy!

Chapter Four: I Just Wanna Know You Better

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: did i basically just post chapter 3? yes. do i care? no! enjoy chapter 4 <3 on a serious note, thank you for showing this fic so much love, i'm genuinely enjoying writing it and so ready to surprise you guys with what's to come!

You'd been invited back to help out at The Beef once more - but not because they were swamped, because Carmy and Richie were catering a kid's birthday party. So, you wouldn't get to see Carmy this time... though, maybe that would help you keep your cool around Sydney.

"I'm assuming I'll just be on register again?" You asked curiously as you put your things in the locker beside Sydney's.

"Yeah, you already have the experience there so that might be the best way to go." Syd agreed, patting you on the back. "Just hang around while we do prep."

"Oh! Speaking of prep, I brought the recipe booklet I made for Marcus. Should I just put it in his locker?" You asked.

"Yeah, he's been too busy trying to perfect donuts lately." Syd muttered with a soft laugh. She pointed out Marcus's locker to you, and you slipped the booklet in for him to find later.

Carmy and Richie had already gone by this point, so you just tried to stay out of the way of the kitchen staff while you had nothing else to do. Ebra was making family today, so you thought about maybe giving him a hand if he needed it. Of course, when you offered your help, he eagerly responded.

"I accept!" He said, then directed you on what he needed.

You really thought Ebra was sweet, he sort of reminded you of a grandfather in a way.

Everyone got seated for family, excited to indulge in the meal Ebra had prepared. He was an excellent chef too, he didn't have any formal culinary school training, but that didn't seem to matter, he was talented regardless. You were still somewhat hanging around, out of the way for a moment while everyone sat.

You looked down when you felt your phone buzz - and surprised to see it was Carmy.

you are never gonna believe what just happened

what??

You cracked a smile, wondering what could've possibly happened to make him text you amidst his catering job.

dropped richie's xanax in the fucking ecto-cooler and all the kids are passed out on the lawn

WHAT?????

You had to stifle a laugh, going into the bathroom to hide for a moment to keep talking to Carmy.

okay how the fuck did that even happen??

i have no idea. at least all the kids are fuckin quiet i guess?

yeah i guess lol

i should've brought you with me instead of richie. he's trying to fight uncle at every turn

is that your way of saying you miss me?

maybe

You smiled a little, letting out a soft sigh. Sure, your little... whatever this was, with Carmy, was a secret... but, you enjoyed it. Him. His company. Though, not telling Sydney was killing you.

okay i gotta go, family's up. you're missing out tho, ebra made a killer stew

damn. save some for me?

if there's any left haha

So, you left the bathroom, and immediately jumped to find Sydney waiting by the door.

"You've been awfully smiley today, what's going on with you?" She asked with a soft laugh. "I haven't seen you like this since you were with... what the fuck was his name again?"

"Oh my god, shut up. I just read something funny while I was going pee." You lied. Sydney knew you better than that, but obviously whatever it was, you didn't wanna talk about it, so she wasn't gonna push.

"Alright, well, family's up, let's go!" She told you, bringing you to the dining room where Ebra's stew was dished out for everybody.

"Out of curiosity, um, are we saving any for Carmy?" You asked. "And Richie- I'm sure they'd both love to try this."

Smooth, real smooth.

"I think I will." Ebra nodded, bringing what was left in the pot back to the kitchen to set aside for Carmy and Richie later.

The meal was delicious, and Marcus surprised everyone with a batch of donuts he'd finished.

"Dude, these are fuckin' killer. Seriously, you've got talent." You praised, smiling at Marcus brightly.

"Thank you, I've been working really hard, I kinda wanna make a special donut for The Beef - like a signature donut, if that makes sense?" Marcus told you with a light laugh.

"Totally. Thank sounds awesome. I'd love to taste test sometime." You said happily, patting Marcus' shoulder.

You helped clean up afterwards - normally, this would be the time you'd leave The Beef, but you were on register duty today. For some reason, you were both more nervous and less nervous without Carmy around. On one hand, if you messed up, he wouldn't be around to see it, but on the other hand, there were less staff on duty today, including no Richie to help you.

But, you had to toughen up, it was time to open.

During the entire first part of service, your mind kept drifting back to Carmy. Was he having a good time catering? How did Cicero react to the accidental drugging of all the children? Was Richie still on him about the desk?

"Hello? Dingus, I said go for your break." Sydney snapped you right out of your thoughts. Fuck.

"Sorry, spaced out. Thanks." You smiled, then slipped out to the alley.

You heard Syd audibly sigh as you walked away, and she mumbled something that you didn't quite catch... there was no way she wasn't somewhat onto you.

It was lonesome. The setting sun, the chill of the autumn air, and the absence of Carmy's secondhand smoke, it all made your body feel cold. You wondered if you could worm your way into spending the night with Carmy... you shouldn't, you knew that. There was no way you could get away with that and Syd not finding out. If you were too excited for Carmy's return after catering the party, Sydney would 100% know something was up between you two.

You sighed, and headed back inside.

Thankfully, it wasn't too ridiculously busy the rest of the night. Just after closing, Carmy and Richie came back and unpacked the car. You took it upon yourself to reheat the stew that Ebra had left for both of them.

"Here y'go, boys." You smiled, setting the dishes in front of them. "Ebra made some incredible shit. You're lucky you're getting any, Manny and Angel almost downed yours."

Carmy and Richie both laughed before they dug in, and you sat down at the table. You tried not to let your gaze linger on Carmy, especially as Sydney and Marcus joined you at the table.

"So how'd it go?" Syd asked curiously.

"Accidentally drugged a buncha kids. Xanax in the ecto-cooler." Richie said casually between mouthfuls of stew.

You stifled a giggle while Syd and Marcus looked absolutely horrified. Syd looked at you, almost as if to say, you find this fucking funny?

"They're all fine, don' worry." Carmy reassured, noticing the mortified looks on their faces across the table. He couldn't hide a smile though, from seeing you laughing.

Syd glanced at Carmy, then back at you. She nudged you, making you jump a little.

"What's up?" You asked.

"You and Carmy speaking telepathically or something?" Syd asked with a bit of a laugh, genuinely wondering what in the hell was going on.

You laughed a little - you tried not to sound nervous, but fuck, of course Sydney knew something was up. She knew you better than that.

"Of course not! I just thought it was funny, cus like... how does that even happen, yknow?" You responded. Suddenly you could hear your heartbeat in your ears, you felt your palms getting a little sweaty - something, something, mom's spaghetti.

Syd was just barely buying it, that much was apparent.

"Well! I should probably... go home." You nodded, getting up quickly and going to get your things from your locker. Before anybody had a chance to say anything else, you left, calling out, "G'night everyone!"

Jesus fucking Christ, that was too close. You were truly caught between a rock and a hard place at this point, because what the hell were you supposed to do? Stop seeing Carmy? No. Tell Sydney? Also no.

As you got back to your apartment and crashed onto your couch, you noticed a text from a few minutes ago that you'd missed. Well, two. One from Sydney...

are you okay?? i'm kinda worried about you, you've been acting weird lately

And one from Carmy.

i missed you today. bummed you turned tail and left so early.

Fucking... shit! Okay. You inhaled a deep breath, messaging back Sydney first. You could do this - you could do this.

i'm okay, i promise!! you have nothing to worry about

You weren't okay. You were lying to her about so many things. Crushing on Carmy, sleeping with him, (barely) getting to know him... that was her fucking boss, and you being her best friend, you were worried this could potentially jeopardize her career.

But, for a moment you shoved that down to answer Carmy.

i missed you too haha...

wanna come over?

yes.

Before you knew it, you were sending Carmy your address. What were you doing?

There was no going back now though, the knock on your door told you as much. And there he was. The moment you opened up the door, your lips locked, and your fate was sealed.

You two definitely weren't going to make it to your bedroom, you hardly even made it to your couch. Carmy sat and greedily pulled you into his lap. It amazed you how needy he was when you were alone in comparison to how aloof and independent he was at The Beef. Though, it was a side of him you enjoyed, there was no doubt about that.

A sigh fell from your lips as Carmy kissed at your neck, your hands slid up his white t-shirt and caressed his abs. Fuck.

"You're s'fuckin' pretty." He muttered against your skin. "Want you t'ride me, pretty girl."

You whined softly at his words. How could you possibly say no? You reluctantly got off his lap moment so you could both strip, but the second you were both free of your bottoms, you were back straddling his lap and lining yourself up over his hard cock.

"Fuck..." Carmy breathed out as you sank down onto him, the familiar warmth of your walls around him.

Your head tilted back as you rocked your hips, the angle had your head spinning. His tatted up hands held your hips to help you, but his mouth latched onto one of your tits. He marked up your skin, and had you sobbing out his name between his dick being deep inside you and him sucking on your nipples.

"Carm- fuck- 'm close!" You whined, then bit your lip harshly.

"Fuck, me too, feels s'good-" He moaned into your flesh.

Seconds after you squeezed around him and came, he followed, filling you up. The realization hit you that this time there was no condom... but frankly, you were too blissed out to worry about that right now. You'd worry about a plan B pill in the morning.

You went with Carmy to your bedroom, so you didn't just fall asleep on the couch. Carmy laid back and, to his surprise, you cuddled up to him.

"G'night, Carm." You muttered softly.

"Night."

In the early morning, you felt Carmy sneak out of bed so he could go for early prep at The Beef. You weren't too offended, you knew he was an early riser. Plus... he left you a little note.

"Thanks for a nice night, definitely needed it. Text me when you get up?

-Carm"

It was such a simple note - why did it make you fucking swoon?

But, before you sent a text to Carmy, you remembered you needed to run to the nearest pharmacy ASAP for a plan B. You started to get ready, and went to text Carmy, but a text from Sydney appeared first.

hey!! i don't have to go in til later, do you wanna grab some breakfast?

sounds nice! text me where you wanna meet

You smiled a little, it'd been a bit since you'd gone out for breakfast with Sydney. All you had to do was act like you didn't just have Carmy fucking your brains out a few hours prior.

On your way to the pharmacy, you finally texted Carmy.

hey, i'm up and headed to meet syd for breakfast :) i'll text you later tho, maybe come with her before she starts for the day

You sighed a little to yourself, hoping you weren't sounding too desperate. You also hoped Syd wouldn't think you wanting to join her on her way to work was suspicious.

This was going to be a long fucking day.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

tags ; @maggiesarchives @carmenberzattosgf

wanna be tagged in any future speechless trilogy updates? leave 🫢 + an @ to tag in my askbox !

227 notes · View notes

amaiaqt · 3 months

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤミㅤyou're my heart shaker, shakerㅤ⋆ ｡˚ㅤ♡ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤwhat if you think he's weird ? oh, just go for it ! ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤmodern sethos !

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤin celebration of sethos, he gets a solo fic ! ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤsethos fans enjoy, xoxo ♡

just talk to her, she seems nice enough !

— is what sethos repeated to himself repeatedly in his head as he watched you pass by without even sparing him a glance, far too engrossed in what you were chatting with your friend about. he wants to approach you, and he swears he finally has the guts to . . but alas, you've already turned the corner before he even managed a word out. it's always like this; he sees you passing by, plans out in his head what he's going to say, takes too long to say it, then he's left watching as you turn the corner or go up the stairs. he's not a coward, he swears—

"you are a coward." tighnari huffs out after snapping his fingers in front of sethos' face to snap him out of his daze. sethos blinks at him. "what, what do you—" "that was the third time they passed by today." sethos heaves a long sigh, his shoulders drooping at his dejection.

"who am i kidding ? they're so pretty that even if i do manage to approach them by some miracle, i'd lose all my words." he huffs.

"yeah, it's pathetic." "would it kill you to have some sympathy ?!"

cyno awkwardly pats sethos' back as tighnari shakes his head. "do you want us to push you towards them the next time they pass by ?" "let's not—" "please !" "no !"

"tighnari, our friend here just needs a little push." "i will push you off a—!"

while the two bickered, sethos sunk back into his own thoughts. ideas . . ideas . . ideas . . he was all out of them. think, sethos, think ! how should he approach you ? 'hi, my name is sethos, here's my number. call me sometime—' no, that's pretty demanding. he wants you to want to take his number, not accept it just because he gives it to you !

'hey hey gorgeous/handsome ! mind if i—' no, eugh. way too forward, you'd no doubt be weirded out by that. but, some people like forward people right ? but, he doesn't know if you do . . he'd rather play it safe.

should he just say hi ? should he just give you a note and run away ? he'd probably look silly, but, what if you like silly guys ?

"hi, you're sethos, right ?"

sethos near jumps out of his seat when he realizes that from how busy he was repeating his 'lines' in his head, he almost didn't notice you approaching his table. ok, this is real. this is happening. archons help him.

"uh—yeah ! yeah, that's me !" sethos stands up from his seat, nearly knocking over the napkin holder in the process.

he definitely owes tighnari and cyno for this one, if it weren't for them talking to nilou and planning out this whole 'operation: sethos finally asks for [name]'s number', he has no idea how he would've gotten here with you. sitting together in puspa café.

"i'm [name]—"

"[name] ! such a—such a pretty name !" sethos grins, mentally cursing himself from how he was stumbling over his words so much. he swears this is it. you're about to get weirded out. you're about to excuse yourself—

you laughed, "thank you. nilou told me a bit about you from cyno and tighnari."

archons, that laugh ! ok, sethos, focus. remember your lines !

'so, i've been seeing you around, and i think you seem like a really cool person, and i'd be honored if we could get to know each other better.' yeah, just as practiced. now he just has to actually say it right.

"so so, you're really pretty and i've sort of had a crush on you since i saw you after enrolling !"

sethos. where did that come from !? as soon as he finished that statement, he swears his entire ancestry's disappointment rained down on him. all that practicing in front of the mirror . . for nothing !?

he braced himself for the grimace on your features, for your accusatory statements calling him a 'stalker' or whatnot. his heart already stopped the second he said the word 'crush'. there's no way he can go back from this—

"wow," you blinked at him.

he has to be hallucinating. he has to be imagining the pink on your cheeks. he has to—

"they didn't tell me about that part, i'm shocked." you laughed, before realizing and waving a hand reassuringly. "oh, but not in the bad way, i assure you !"

no, it's okay, you can say you're weirded out. you can—

"i think you're cute too. we can . . exchange numbers, if you'd like ?"

. . . was he hearing that right ? were you saying you thought he was cute ? no way. no way !

"i mean it." it was as if you read his mind when you smiled at him.

now, his heart was beating, shaking, ready to leap out of his chest and—

"sorry sorry, i'm a total mess right now . . but, do you mean it ?" please say yes.

you grinned, nodding. "i mean it. i hope we can become close, sethos. you seem like a really cool person too."

and there it was. okay it technically went the opposite way with you asking him for his number. but . . that was a total success in his book !

"oh, oh ! uhm . ." sethos cleared his throat. "ok uh, cool cool ! then, do you want to order anything ? my treat !"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ© amaiqt, 2023 ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤdo not plagiarize !

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #sethos x reader #sethos genshin #꒰ㅤdelulu publishing houseㅤ꒱#♡𝅼 ་ ׅ : babe wake up amai posted ！#amaiaqt

161 notes · View notes

devilfic · 4 months

Text

❝right place, right time❞

VIII. whatever keeps you around.

parts: previously / next plot: bruce has a proposal for you. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, brief discussion of slight suicidal ideation/martyrdom, drug (and the injection of drugs) mentions, you will not guess what trope I managed to include in here. words: 6.9k. a/n: plotting this series makes me feel like charlie day pointing at a wall of red string

“…You won’t like it.”

It's clear what you have to do. You'd realized it when Gordon came to you, so of course Bruce did too. If you were going to make this right, you would have to face this head on. "I know what I have to do," you start, "I need to lure him out."

Bruce's expression shifts. Whatever you've said seems to be the wrong answer, "That... won't be necessary."

"What? What else can I do?"

"What did Gordon tell you about Dimitri?"

Your head throbs as you recall the memory, "Uh... he said he believes I'm next on Dimitri's hit list. He also said Dimitri hadn't anticipated me being at the house."

"Right, because Russo didn't want anyone knowing where he was." Bruce turns to his computer and brings up Russo's file, "After his divorce and the death of his son, he holed up and started erasing himself from the internet. As far as his neighbors know, he was constantly alone. You already know how hard it was to find him on your own, and unless Dimitri knew someone keeping tabs, it doesn't stand to reason that he found him any easier. But you, on the other hand," Bruce opens a search engine and types in your name. You're unsettled when the screen fills with results, most of them news articles from the night you'd been held hostage, "your name and face was everywhere after the gang war."

When the reporters had shoved cameras in your face and begged for you to tell them about Batman's heroic rescue, you hadn't thought twice about it, still fresh from the throes of gore and violence in the ER. Friends, family, coworkers: almost everyone you knew had seen it.

It clicks for you then, "If Dimitri planned on killing us both and I was easiest to find, why didn't he come for me first? I mean... it was me and Alex who ruined his life. If he wanted anyone dead more, wouldn't it be me?"

"I wondered the same thing. With the know-how and the right connections, anyone could find where you live just by name alone. Russo, on the other hand, is almost anonymous. It doesn't make sense why Dimitri would target Russo first."

"Do you think maybe it was a warning? Maybe he wanted to scare me."

"If he wanted to warn you, he wouldn't kill the guy in his house where no one checks up on him. Days would've passed before anyone noticed the flies in the windows."

"I don't get it."

"Do you remember how long it's been since you were taken hostage?"

Your mind lands on a weak estimate, "I don't know, a week and a half?"

"It's been over two weeks. According to the wardens, Dimitri stopped being a problem for them after the first few years. Friends with a rough crowd but he rarely got caught up in anything. Didn't have the heart to. So why, after 17 years, does he break out?"

Your stomach drops, "He saw me."

"And realized that while he was rotting away with nothing to live for, you were a hero," the word sickens you to hear, "on the front lines, saving lives, being saved. Your life went back to normal."

You grip the side of Bruce's desk with the sudden urge to vomit up everything you'd eaten today, which, frankly, wouldn't add up to much more than water and crackers.

You'd said it yourself: you'd gotten to live a life that Natalie, Dimitri, and Alex never would. Of course he wanted you dead. "So then I have to lure him out."

"And put yourself in danger? No."

"I’m already in danger, Bruce. What if he goes after the others? My parents? My coworkers? The other cops at the shootout? We have to end it now."

"This isn't the only way."

"It's the best way."

"Last time he had a knife, you could defend yourself. Barely. What if next time, he has a gun?"

"So what, you just want to do nothing?"

Bruce turns away from you. He gnaws on his lower lip, "No, I want to bide our time. Look into him more. I need to know if he's working with the Vipers again."

You watch him as he begins typing away at his computer, but you can't process what he's looking for through the haze of anger that washes over you. You lean on the desk, craning your neck up at his face to make him look at you, to understand how ridiculous he sounds, "We don't have time for that. His grudge is with me. I should meet him now and end this... either he gets what he wants or- or..."

Or what? Your stubbornness peters out. You don't know what. You see yourself standing face-to-face with Dimitri, his knife raised, ready to bury itself into the cushion of your chest. And nothing.

The you in this vision has no weapon.

"You don't think you're going to survive this." Coming out of your mind, Bruce is now looking at you, brows furrowed. He looks... mortified.

You scramble to cover your tracks, "That's not true. I'd have you there."

"But you don't want me there. You want to go alone. You think you deserve it."

"God, what are you? My therapist?" Your words flit out of your mouth in a rush, tongue nearly slipping up to defend yourself. You push away from the desk when you start feeling overexposed.

Bruce follows you, "You're not 16 anymore, this isn't some gang fight where you throw all your chips in because you can't see a year ahead of you. You've made a life. You've got people to lose, you said so yourself. I know what it's like... the survivor's guilt. You relive that day over and over-"

His words are making you feel sick to your stomach again and you lurch forward, finger in his face, "Don't you fucking preach to me-"

Almost as immediately as you'd raised your finger, Bruce snatches your wrist in his hand, yanking you close enough to be imposing, staring down at you with the same power that the Batman had used. It was so sudden that you quickly fall slack, wrist going limp in his grip.

It had completely sobered you of your tantrum, and for better or for worse, you were forced to listen to him, "Stop feeling sorry for yourself and think. You see this ending with you dead because you want to make up for the shit you did. You think that's what Alex wants? For you to bleed out in an alley like she did?" And just like that, the fire roars in you once more, but your other hand can't slap him across the face before he's caught that one too, "No future? What about all the people you've saved? Could still save? Face it now because you may not get another chance: you're alive. Do you want to be or not?"

You want to hurt him, turn his skin red and give it a place among the other bruises that glitter and glare down his torso, and as your hand shakes in his hold, you are forced to understand that you are angry because he is right.

You'd felt this same anger before. When your parents told you Alex was a bad influence on you. When Russo looked you in the eye and told you that you didn't have it in you to pull the trigger. It was maddening. He had clocked your suicide mission before even you had, had seen you in his mind's eye the way you saw yourself: disarmed, a lamb to the slaughter, a sacrifice for the greater good, a speedbump.

You could see Batman tackling him to the ground over your dying body. You couldn't see yourself getting up the next day.

After the frustration leaves Bruce's eyes, he's looking at you with something softer. You feel known, uncomfortably so, as he waits for you to meet him there.

And when you do, you hate how you collapse into him. Even more, you hate that he takes you up into his arms, holding you steadfast, as understanding as you needed him to be with all your fear of admitting it. The solidness of his body reminds you of the night he'd first held you, and that just makes you cry harder.

It feels different from last time. Where there was armor is now warm skin, the likes of which you hadn't felt in a while. If you had told your past self you'd one day be standing in Batman's cave, hugging Bruce Wayne and crying over the permanence of your mistakes, you might have diagnosed yourself with head trauma.

You screw your eyes shut in a vain attempt to put the tears to rest, your freed hands practically clawing at Bruce's warm back for some purchase, some stability. He doesn't seem to mind. He just holds you closer.

After a few minutes, you force yourself to speak, sniffling away the last remaining tears you'd allow yourself to shed, "You said I wouldn't like it. Your plan. What is it?"

"To disappear."

You wrench yourself back. Bruce is dead serious. "What?"

"I've considered it from all angles-"

"What do you mean, 'disappear'?"

"All but one of the prisoners Dimitri broke out with are still missing. How do we know they're not all working together? How do we know that you luring him out won't draw them out too? You were the easiest target before, not anymore."

"Say what you mean, Bruce. What do you want me to do?"

"I want to hide you here," he winces as he says this, as if aware of his words only now that they're out in the open, "with me."

"You're shitting me."

After a while, Bruce's face hardens, "I told you you wouldn't like it."

Liking it or not liking it was nothing. You'd advanced past "like". You were firmly out of your depth here.

You slip out of Bruce's hold and he lets you, standing rather awkwardly as you rub a hand across your mouth. Despite earlier, it now feels uncomfortably dry. You glance at Bruce and then at his screen, the tab with your name and face plastered all over it hovering in the background. "You want me to disappear off the face of the earth while you track him down. Leave my home, leave the people I care about, abandon my job. You want me to hide."

"I don't know how else to protect you. Not until we figure out what we're up against." Bruce watches you spin away, scoffing into the air, "You noticed it when you fought him off, didn't you? Something was really wrong with him."

You see flashes of Dimitri's feral stare, the way he staggered and swung. He was like a rabid animal in a cage. "Of course there was, he was trying to kill me."

"Beyond that," Bruce insists, "he wasn't right. I've seen it before. He was on something."

"Most people are these days. I wouldn't be surprised if he'd... I don't know, gotten his hands on drops or something-"

"It wasn't drops. Gordon told me."

"The detective?"

"He said they found a syringe with traces of venom in it. Dimitri's shooting up. That's why he was so strong."

Your mouth drops open in disbelief, "Venom? Great. Somehow worse than Drops."

"If he's on that drug, he's definitely addicted. It also means you won't stand a chance against him. This is why I'm telling you to stay here," Bruce steps forward, eyes imploring yours. You're dumbstruck by the heavy earnestness there, "stay in the tower. Hide here for a few days. Let me handle this."

"If he's on venom, it means he doesn't think he can handle you on his own," you wring your hands, flitting through images of the Dimitri you remember, "he was always really small. Even at fourteen, he hadn't really sprung up. He was scrawny and small and couldn't defend himself. Suddenly Gordon's saying he's almost twice the size of what I remember. Have you ever fought someone on venom?"

"Once or twice, somewhere between fixes. Why?"

"General has this kind of... sedative that we use when we get patients dealing with the effects. It's not perfect, but it does help calm them down enough to help them. Maybe we can use it to help him."

"The strain is constantly changing," Bruce watches you deflate and clears his throat, "but if I can get that sedative, I can use it as a base to make a new one."

"You need clearance to get your hands on that stuff. I'm going with you."

"What part of disappear do you not understand?"

"One, I never agreed to do that, and two, if Batman gets caught stealing from a hospital, that'll make you public enemy number one. You need my help, so let me help you."

Bruce is looking away, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth even as you zero in on him. You're getting flashbacks of that same Bruce from when you'd first met him here in this tower. All tender-eyed, even as he tries to put on a face for you, "And I need a drink," you rub your temple next, catching a glimpse of Bruce watching you from his peripheral, "You've got those, don't you?"

It turns out Bruce has plenty. There's a whole cellar full of them, the kinds you see in MTV Cribs with the low recessed lighting and mahogany shelves gleaming with polish. It makes sense for him to have it, but less so when he tells you he doesn't actually drink any of it.

"You weren't drinking at the party, either. Even though everyone else thought you were." You brush your hand along the shelves, careful not to knock any bottles loose. "Is that a trick to keep people spilling secrets? Or to keep from spilling your own?"

Bruce hovers near the entrance with his arms folded and back pressed to the wall, carefully watching you peruse his selection, "Maybe I don't like the taste."

"That's good. Men in Gotham die from alcoholism at a higher rate than any other city in the state."

"Really?"

"Really. You don't smoke either." Bruce blinks at you, "Just get shot at. And stabbed."

He says nothing.

Your hand lands on a red aged older than your mother and you stand to the side, looking expectantly at him. You're afraid that if you try to pick it up, you might knock down the whole row.

Slowly, Bruce pushes himself off the wall and glides over to you, grabbing the neck of the bottle in one hand and looking to you for approval. You try not to shrink yourself when you nod.

You follow him out of the cellar, flinching when the lights dim behind you and the door rolls shut all on its own. He guides you to the kitchen where night still hangs over Gotham outside the window, but the time on the stove clock warns of early morning soon.

Bruce pulls out two glasses and fills yours with wine and his with cranberry juice from the fridge. You could almost laugh at the pairing.

Once he slides your glass to you, you take a seat at the island and take a sip, "I need to ask you something. I get now why you refused me at the station, but then you came back. Why did you change your mind? I mean, neither of us knew Russo would be dead when we got there. Were you just going to let me hate you?"

"Yes." His simple response draws a quick, stifled laugh out of you.

"Are you always this... chaotic?"

Bruce leans his elbows on the countertop, hunching in on himself, "I always meant to tell you who I was. I just didn't know when. And I didn't mind if you hated Bruce Wayne, but... you trusted Batman. I didn't want to break that trust. Even if it meant telling you earlier than I planned, I wanted to give you some closure."

You think about the fear that had paralyzed you back then, thinking that Bruce Wayne was some big, bad criminal hiding behind polite society. Then you think about the real man, hiding behind a mask. You fidget uncomfortably, struggling with feeling somewhere between grateful and nauseous. Your eyes catch the stitches on his shoulder and you itch to wipe away the dried blood that had dribbled from the cut, "You said you were looking for Dimitri when you got that. Did you..."

Bruce catches your eye when you fail to finish your question. "No," he answers solemnly, "which is only part of our problem." He stands to his full height, flexing bruised knuckles against the counter, "I ran into one of the guys that broke out with Dimitri tonight. That's who gave me this. Dimitri isn't working alone."

You frown, "Is he trying to shake you? Why leave clues at all?"

"Because these people want me dead. The guy from tonight? I booked him a year ago for trafficking women. Earlier led me to a fringe group of Falcone's."

"You've been looking for Dimitri all day?"

"I haven't stopped since we found Russo. I couldn't."

You rub your arms, feeling the room grow chiller by the second, "So... so he's leaving clues to people who hate you. To keep you occupied." Bruce nods. "So he can get to me?"

"After last night, he knows the Batman is on your side."

"Dimitri wasn't out when you got on the scene. Do you think maybe he's taking venom because these guys warned him about you?"

Bruce smirks, rolling his eyes as he takes a sip from his glass, "As a precaution, sure. And now he has reason to believe I know you. If he's going to go after you, he's going to shoot up each time."

"That stuff is nasty. You're big and scary when you're on it but as soon as the effects wear off-"

"You deflate like a balloon. It's also stupid expensive, so he's either got real generous prison pals or he's being used. It's why I need to know if he's working with the Vipers. They might be supplying him."

How you'd gone from an ordinary surgeon to a detective in the span of mere weeks was beyond you. You're beyond just treading water. You're diving into the abyss.

Your brain struggles to make real what is before you. Bruce, still shirtless, drinking delicately from a glass as he watches the night sky shimmer from the kitchen window. And you, sitting across from him, cracking open one of his family's expensive bottles that, frankly, puts your pantry vinos to shame. Playing vigilantes like schoolchildren. Except the blood on you both is very real.

Your arm throbs at being remembered for once tonight. Bruce notices you touch it, "You need to get some rest."

You know he's right, and you're not arguing for the sake of arguing when you say, "I can't sleep yet." But he can tell there's more on your mind as he waits silently, almost egging you on to lay yourself bare. You swear you're not arguing just for the sake of arguing, "And I don't want to disappear. I want to be alive."

Bruce says nothing. The silence isn't humiliating like you'd think it be, even if the first few seconds leave you feeling just as laid bare as you thought you would. No. It feels acknowledging. Understanding, even.

For the first time, you look at Bruce and feel like you understand him. If he was really Batman, then he would know better than anyone why you would want to put yourself in danger. But beneath that, with the meager knowledge of who Bruce Wayne is, you also think you understand him too.

He'd mentioned the survivor's guilt. While he'd played a much more innocent role in the whole ordeal, you couldn't imagine the weight on one's chest knowing that two people you love didn't get to go on but you did. It's a lot to ask of a child barely coming to understand the mortality of one's own keepers.

The choice to be alive for someone like that is a deliberate choice. Constantly made every morning.

"There is another way," Bruce muses, "but you'll like it even less."

"Don't leave me hanging."

"We could go public."

"What?"

"You said disappearing would mean abandoning your life. And it would. No one could know where you went, who you were with, but there's always the chance someone might slip up. It's the safest option but it's not what you want. So don't hide." Bruce's eye contact is deep and unwavering. Compared to earlier, he seems to trust you're willing to listen this time, "Be mine."

For the nth time tonight, you are rendered nearly speechless. Nearly. "Are you fucking with me?"

Bruce's eyes narrow, "No."

"Did you just... proposition me?"

"I made a proposal."

"You're asking me to date you."

"Publicly. Batman has more enemies than allies, but Bruce Wayne has the people. If you and I are publicly linked, it tells everyone looking for you that the world is watching. It makes you more visible, as well as anyone who comes after you."

"You haven't slept," you reason, "clearly. And you're delirious."

"I haven't slept, no." But he looks fairly sober for someone who hasn't slept in a day. He is a different breed, this Bruce Wayne.

You peer out the kitchen window and see the black sky dipping into a blue horizon, "Then sleep on it and come up with something better."

Bruce rounds the island until he's standing beside you, looking down at your barely touched wine, "There's some spare rooms upstairs. You can take your pick." It dawns on you that you may not be going back home any time soon. "You know your way around."

You suppose you deserve that dig.

Then he's leaving you, glasses abandoned, home for you to explore. You don't realize how thick the air had gotten with him right next to you until he's gone.

You half-expect Alfred to pop up somewhere nearby, but there's nothing. This far up, there is no city to listen for, no neighbors slamming doors. You are in a cold house all alone. You suddenly wish he'd stayed to keep you company, even if the weight of it was beginning to take its toll on you. Left alone, you only had the sunrise.

You watch until the sky has all but chased the night away, and then you head upstairs.

You didn't think you'd get much sleep in a stranger's bed, but you're being roused by a sharp, successive rapping at your door several hours later. It jolts you awake, kick-starting your heart, and you clumsily tumble out of the million thread count sheets to open the door.

Alfred stands there fully dressed for the day, one hand tucked in his pocket and the other still raised to knock. Upon seeing you, he lowers his fist, "Morning," he starts, looking away as soon as he meets your eyes, "breakfast is ready. Come get it before it's cold."

He does not give you a choice in the matter. He's already limping toward the staircase without another word.

After you get your heart to settle down, you follow after him, preening yourself as you pass hallway mirrors and portraits of the Wayne family through the generations. You hadn't come down this hallway when you'd found the terminus elevator, so you stumble to a stop in front of a portrait of a young Bruce grinning ear to ear.

It startles you. His eyes are soft, a gentle humming blue untouched by wrinkle or darkness. He must've been especially young here. Glancing at a nearby portrait of his parents, you find him the spitting image of his father. You look around and realize there are no portraits of Bruce at this age.

Bruce. He might be at breakfast, and the mere thought of having to discuss what occurred last night almost turns you right back around to the guest room, but your stomach rumbling begs you not to. You still walk quietly, peering around corners in case your stomach changed its mind.

You find you're cautious for naught when the only person standing in the kitchen is Alfred, chopping up fresh fruit.

"I hope you don't mind that I moved your things," he gestures with his paring knife to your surgical tools neatly congregated on the counter, "I cleaned them too."

"Oh. You didn't need to do that."

"There was blood, so I'm afraid I did." Alfred places a bit of pressure on "blood", and you quickly take note of his short tone.

Still, all the same, he then gestures to the island and implores you take a seat in front of an empty plate. Without asking, he begins pushing steaming hot food onto your plate, "Tea or coffee?" He asks, barely looking up at you.

"Uh, coffee is fine. Thanks." You watch Alfred pour you a mug and wonder if the awkwardness with him is any more preferable to the awkwardness with Bruce. Alfred is passive-aggressive, Bruce is... aggressive. You remember how the latter had left off your night together and find yourself feeling warmer toward Alfred. "How long have you been up?"

"Since 6, although I woke a few times through the night."

You wince, "Sorry."

"No need to apologize. I did think Bruce had invited you over under different circumstances, so... not as alarming, all things considered." Your grip on your fork slips and it clatters to the marble. Alfred barely reacts.

"He needed stitches." Is all you can get out.

"Yes, I'm well aware."

You glance up at him, "You saw?"

"When he first arrived home, yes. I was the one who helped stop the bleeding."

You stare at the coffee sweating in your cup, recalling something Bruce had mentioned last night, "Bruce said you were the one who used to stitch him up."

"Yes."

"If you were there, why-"

"It's what he pays you for, isn't it?" Alfred almost snaps back at you, slicing a strawberry into quarters with more edge than needed.

You recall something else next. The softness in Alfred's face the day you first came here, arguing with Bruce in the very room next door. You'd wondered what it had all been about.

"I've done alright, haven't I?"

"He said something else too," you start, careful as you choose your next words, "about how much you worry about him." You fiddle with your mug, pretending not to feel the heat of Alfred's eyes on you, "I think the reason he hired me is because he was worried about you."

You just catch the tail-end of Alfred's frown, "Worried about me? Why?"

You probably aren't close enough to either of these two to laugh about this, but you do anyway, "Isn't it kind of obvious?"

"Nonsense. We always discussed... if it would come to it, that if he were to pursue this life further, that he would recruit professionals who might aid him in his work. It was the natural thing to do."

"Maybe, yeah. But would he have really needed me if you weren't already doing everything else for him? You've taken good care of him this long. I mean, the aftercare you gave his bullet wound was exceptional. I accused him of talking to other doctors."

Alfred busies himself with scraping his strawberry halves into a bowl, "It's basic knowledge. You learn that kind of thing in the service."

"Or when you invited me to watch you two spar. You know his body probably better than he does. You're fantastic, Alfred." You couldn't say you weren't also trying to butter him up to better his feelings toward you, but you were speaking truth all the same.

In a very British way, he rebuts your compliments and spoons some fruit into a glass, beginning to layer some yogurt over top them, "Regardless of reason, you are here now, and I'll have you know that every part of your contract covers this. Wayne Enterprises will exhaust every possible legal tool at our leisure if you speak of any—any—of this to anyone. Master Bruce's identity is safely guarded, and regardless of his trust in you, I will not hesitate-"

"Whoa, whoa, hey. I would never tell anyone. Not after all Batman has done for me." You press a hand over your heart for emphasis, "He is just as much my patient as Bruce Wayne is, and he didn't have to pay me to take care of him."

Alfred still stares you down like a guard dog, paring knife still clutched in his fingers. After a moment, he looks away from you and points at your plate, "Eat. It's getting cold."

So you do. It's good so you say as much, counting any point toward his affection as a good thing. If you could get Alfred to trust you, you'd call that a win.

The tension in the air dissipates over time, and after you've licked your plate clean, you and Alfred are sharing coffee together. "Bruce isn't joining us?"

"I've stopped expecting him to be awake this early." You glance at the clock that reads 10:12. "He has adopted a near-fully nocturnal lifestyle."

"The night that he crawled through my window, he was there at the hospital the next morning like nothing happened. He doesn't do that often?"

"Before last year, it was a rare occurrence. While he's dedicated himself to his role more recently, if he can avoid it, he will."

You think back to what knowledge you do have on Bruce's charity work and his friendship with the Mayor. You'd worked shifts just as long, but you couldn't imagine showing up to work mere hours after getting shot in the stomach and having to put on a brave face about it. You almost feel bad for calling him out on it in front of everyone.

But then again, if you hadn't, would you even be sitting here?

You swirl the last vestiges of coffee in your cup, trying to picture a world in which you'd gone and found that empty office to nap in instead of toddling behind Rudy and Em and Alfred and Batman. The Batman.

The novelty of it brings a fresh wave of dizziness over you. You had been exposed to so much information over the course of the last 12 hours that it hadn't fully settled in on you what Bruce was. You didn't think that your brain would process it even if he was standing in cowl and cape right in front of you.

"I suppose you'll be staying with us for the near future, if Bruce has anything to say about it," Alfred stands from his chair beside you and puts your dishes in the sink, "shall I inform your security detail or would you like to?"

You don't know what to say to that. "I'm... I think I should talk this over with Bruce first. It may not need to come to that."

The butler shrugs. "I'll be attending to some house duties for the rest of the morning. Should you stay for lunch, let Dory know, hm?" You give him a weak nod and watch as he makes his way from the sink and heads down another hallway out of sight.

Not too long after Alfred leaves you, you hear the doorbell ring. Bruce hadn't mentioned to you that any guests would be here today, but then again, the two of you had had more important things to discuss last night. You check your reflection in the glass of the kitchen window, wondering if there were any hidden doors in the bookcases that could hide you from whatever Wayne Enterprises exec that was coming to talk business, but you wouldn't trust yourself not to break something in the process.

You hear two pairs of footsteps approaching from the elevator and turn to see who it might be. You first recognize Dory, fluttering between frantic small talk and making sure not to trip in her kitten heels as she guides her guest into the living room. You stiffen as soon as you see him.

Detective Gordon catches your eyes instantly, his own widening. Dory says something about going to fetch Bruce before she quickly ascends the stairs, leaving you and James staring at each other across the distance. In one hand is a notepad and pencil, and the other fixes his tie, almost as if at a loss for words. He greets you, hesitantly leaving where Dory had left him to approach you, "I saw the boys out front but... I didn't expect to see you here."

"Me neither." You reply. "Is everything okay?"

James glances up at the stairs as he passes underneath, "That depends. I followed up on your request."

Shit. Of course a cop would do their job when you least expect it. You slip out of your chair and rush to meet him halfway into the kitchen, "Did... did you find something?"

"I can't say much right now. I'd like to talk to Mr. Wayne, but-" The sound of Dory's heels clacking against the wooden stairs makes James lower his voice, "-you being here complicates things."

Bruce is wearing a shirt this time, thankfully, though you're not expecting him to look as put together this early after what Alfred had said. He towers behind Dory's much smaller frame in a pair of loose black pants and a matching turtleneck, looking in a fashionable state of undress as he pads barefoot into the room. With hair slicked back and stubble freshly shaved, he doesn't look like someone caught unaware. He's fixing the sleeve of his sweater when he extends a hand to Detective Gordon, bright smile and all, "Detective James Gordon, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Mr. Wayne, I'm sorry for dropping in unannounced. If this is a bad time, I can come back." James gestures to you.

Bruce's look at you is empty, devoid of any detectable emotion or thought. It strikes you as unsettling, the same way a cashier at the end of their shift isn't really looking at you, "Oh, no. I was just on my way to work when I felt unwell. I called my doctor over but it was nothing to worry about. A little stomach bug, is all."

You do look like you'd just come over in a rush. You're still in your lounge clothes from the night before, and your medical supplies are still in the kitchen where Alfred had left them. James seems to notice, but he doesn't look any more relaxed. "That's good to hear. I don't want to keep you too long, but truth is, I have some questions I'd like to ask you if you have the time."

"Is something wrong?" James glances between you and Bruce, something the latter doesn't miss, "is it sensitive?"

"It's about the party you threw here the other night, Mr. Wayne. For Mayor Reál. I hear you invited quite a few Gotham politicians to celebrate the passing of the mayor's new bill, correct?"

"That's correct."

"And I understand you're quite invested in Gotham politics in general, much like your father."

"I am. My mother and father were very interested in the city, and Mayor Reál breathed new life into that for me after the election. I do what I can to support the cause."

"And that cause is...?"

Bruce takes the skeptical tone on the chin, smiling wider, "A safer, fairer Gotham. For everyone."

This Bruce was nothing like the Bruce you had all to yourself. He taps into that persona from the party with ease. Watching him is like watching a performance. "That's good, good. I notice you try to make an effort with charities in the city, donations and the like. You recently donated a new wing to Gotham General."

"I did. Increasing access to medical care for the citizens is important to me. My doctor, a talented surgeon at General, knows this well." You flash a timid smile when both Bruce and James look to you.

"And you also financially support politicians in Gotham."

"Occasionally. Anyone I feel has Gotham's best interests in mind."

"And have you found members of Gotham's political parties to be unusually forward in requesting your support, Mr. Wayne? Perhaps a little too pushy, maybe."

Bruce wears confusion well, "Not necessarily. I'm not easily pressured into doing things I have no interest in."

"Of course. How about any attempts to win over your support? Publicly or otherwise."

"I'm not sure what you're asking, detective. I'd love to help, but I don't think I have the information you're looking for."

James nods, holding his chin high, "My apologies. I should've been clear from the beginning. My question is: have any politicians or members of law enforcement offered you anything in exchange for your financial or public support? I have reason to believe there may be someone with high clearance exchanging confidential information with civilians. Especially ones who can pay. I'm just looking for a lead."

James frames his question well, even though any fat cat familiar with the cops could see the hidden question. Bruce frowns, tilts his head, shaking it slowly, "That's awful. I don't currently know of anyone doing such a thing, to me or anyone else. But I can keep an eye out. I can only imagine how dangerous that might be."

"Exactly. We'd like to nip it in the bud as soon as possible."

"Of course. Do you have a card? Perhaps I can contact you if I hear anything."

James fishes out his card and hands it over, "I don't want to put you in a bad position, only pass along what you know if you feel safe enough to do so."

You notice Bruce is flicking the business card between his fingers as a fidget, though he keeps his attention respectfully on the detective. "Absolutely. Thank you, detective. Dory can show you to the door."

The detective nods and follows Dory out of the room. As soon as the two are out of earshot, Bruce's expression softens as he presses his back into the counter. You wish you could sink into the floor. "To be fair," you begin, "I didn't think he'd find anything."

Bruce side-eyes you, "That was you?"

"I thought my criminal boss was going to blackmail me to keep his secrets."

"Criminal boss." You think he's trying to mock you, but his eyes are surprisingly guilty when he looks at you, "Alfred wasn't kidding. I really didn't handle this well."

"No, not really." You don't mean to kick him while he's down, but you can't lie either. Even now, you were still making meaning out of this whole thing.

By all means, you've gone from knowing nothing about him, to understanding even less, to fearing him, to this. With Batman on the other hand, you'd felt nothing but loyalty and trust in him up until the very last second. Now they were both the same person, and the meager hours of sleep you'd gotten hadn't cleared all that up just yet.

You wonder who you're supposed to see now. Batman or Bruce Wayne? Why was the line separating them blurring the more you thought of them?

"So, did you ever come up with a better idea?"

Bruce does not offer one. You'd dreaded that.

"You already know what I think. No matter how we go about this, there's going to be something. So what do you want to do?" Bruce's eyes follow your ever minute expression, laser-focused on you. "Whatever you choose, I will keep you safe. I promise you."

He feels so staunchly Batman in this moment, even with the soft voice of Bruce, watching over you. Through all your uncertainty, this you believe him on.

And you're exhausted, you find. Your arm is beginning to throb again. You crave the reprieve of a bed but not your own, to your surprise.

"I'm going to trust you, Bruce," your voice wobbles as you say it out loud, "I'm going to trust you like I trust Batman."

Bruce holds eye contact with you for a few moments, "Okay."

"Can I ask... why are you dressed so nice?"

"We're going to get the sedative."

"You're going as Bruce?"

"It's the middle of the day. Yes, I'm going as Bruce. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

You fluster, suddenly reconsidering this entire plan. You'd pictured Batman skulking on the rooftop while you Mission Impossible'd your way into the medicine cabinets for what you needed. Walking in with him—the real him—would draw attention you didn't need, "You're only going to make me look suspicious."

"I'm your patient, and more importantly, I'm a donor."

"You will stick out like a sore thumb."

"That means when people are looking at me, they're not looking at you." You open your mouth to argue but he's already cutting you off, "Do you want me to drop you off at your place or do you want me to send someone to get your things?"

You're aware of what he's really asking.

You heave a sigh, "Drop me off. I can't promise Judith won't hurt someone if she finds a stranger in my house."

a/n: mj stop having the reader move in with bruce when their life is put in imminent danger challenge impossible

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne scenarios #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne #batman x reader #batman scenarios #batman fic #batman angst #batman fluff #the batman #battinson x reader #battinson #dc #mjwrites #bw; rprt

178 notes · View notes

eternitariant · 2 months

Text

Lesson One: How to turn a Trick.

cw: stalking

the principal dragged you into his office and you saw a familiar mess of dirty, black hair that made you immediately aware of what was about to be discussed~

"Miss Y/L/N, have a seat please."

you glanced at Patrick who was smirking at you as you sat down and returned your eyes to the principal,

"Hockstetter is failing."

"i don't even get a Mister?" Patrick scoffed and the principal just ignored him,

"Failing what exactly?" you asked sheepishly,

"Everything."

your mouth fell open and you stared blankly for a few seconds before shaking your head like an etch-a-sketch in an attempt to return to reality,

"So, you want me to tutor him in all of his classes?"

"That's correct." The principal nodded curtly and you could feel Hockstetter's eyes burning through you,

"B-but Sir... I already have a full tutoring roster... I'm spending every night in the tutoring centre, i can't- "

"Slow down Miss Y/L/N," The principal said through a throaty chuckle, "Your other students have been reassigned. I need my best on this." he was buttering you up and you knew it but you couldn't exactly say no anyway so you just agreed.

Patrick followed you home from school that day. He didn't have to, you weren't meant to start tutoring him until next week but he always followed you home, you just didn't know it. Something else you didn't know was that he had specifically requested you during his meeting with The Principal.

He climbed his tree whilst you climbed your stairs and he perched up on a branch to watch you, like always.

Your routine was his.

The first thing you always did was tie your hair up & he'd stare at your neck... fantasising about touching it in any way he could, he wanted to trace it with his fingers, brush his lips against it, wrap his hand around it and sink his teeth into it.

Then you'd change, usually into something kinda skimpy because you didn't think anyone could see you & it was starting to get hotter outside. Typically afterwards you would sit yourself at your desk and do your homework like the studious angel you were... that's what he started calling you in his head anyway. Angel.

By the time the sun started setting, you'd be finished with your homework and you'd listen to a record, your music taste was good... that had surprised him at first but the more he watched you, the more it made sense. He'd been able to observe how good you were at pretending that your life was picture perfect, peachy keen. It was anything but.

You'd gotten good at hiding, even in your own home. Turns out, you'd had to. Your mom was a flake who treated your house like a drive thru convenience store & didn't care who she brought around her daughter. Most of them wanted a turn with you and if it were up to her, your mom would let them. So you started fleeing to the attic where you could lock yourself in whenever you heard anyone come home.

Patrick would kill anyone who hurt you. Anyone at all.

Monday rolled around and you were going to meet Patrick in the tutoring centre after 5th period but he intercepted you as you came out of English class ~

"Oh.. hi." you blinked up at him and he smiled,

"Hey Angel."

"M-my name is Y/N." you said innocently,

"i know that, it's called a nickname." he challenged, leaning into your personal space a bit more,

"oh." you nodded, looking at your feet, "well, we should go to the tutor-"

"let's go to your place instead." he suggested and you paled, shaking your head rapidly in panic- "it's okay, whatever big bad wolf hangs out there won't scare me off." he insisted, knowingly which kind of creeped you out.

"fine." you sighed, "it's kinda far, are those heavy?" you asked, pointing at his boots and he laughed,

"don't worry about me, sweets. let's just go."

He carefully kept a half pace behind you so he didn't make it obvious he already knew where you were going. You were chittering away about the lesson plan you had devised over the weekend and he smirked pridefully behind you, knowing you were thinking about him all weekend.

Finally, you made it to your house & you already knew your mom wasn't home which had you releasing a tense breath. Patrick saw your shoulders shuddering and couldn't help himself, he held them and applied a little pressure, helping your ground yourself.

"My, uh, my room is upstairs to the left. You want a soda?"

"Sure." he nodded, striding up the stairs to see your room up close.

It smelled like you. The whole space was just you. It consumed him & he loved it. So much that his skin was practically vibrating when you came upstairs. You had all your books and sodas in your arms so you kicked the door shut behind you and he rushed over to help you.

"Thanks." you blushed,

"course." he shrugged, "so this is your room, huh?"

"um, yes." you breezed, "so i was thinking that we start with, um..." you swallowed the lump in your throat and then straightened your posture, "you cutting the bullshit, Trick."

He quirked his head to the side and scowled, "huh?"

"you don't want to be tutored. you don't give a shit about school." you pressed, stepping closer to him,

"you just wanted to hang out with me, right?"

his eyes blew wide. just for a second though because if you got creeped out by him, he'd be so angry with himself.

"actually, i can't get held back another year."

"so drop out." you quipped, raising your eyebrow in a challenge, "c'mon... don't play it cool now. I see you out there," you tipped your head out towards the tree in your neighbours yard, "watching me... every night."

"y-you do?" he stammered,

"mhm" you nodded, slowly

his eyes raced over your face, looking for any semblance of fear or revolt but there was none there,

"why didn't you ever say anything?" he pressed, leaning slightly forward, expecting you to move back but you didn't. In fact, you stood on your tip toes and kissed him lightly before whispering,

"because i like it."

#patrick hockstetter #patrick hocksetter x reader

98 notes · View notes

creepswrites · 20 days

Text

MASK OF HATE (CH 2) | Michael x Reader

so when i was writing this, my editor Insisted i use a grilled cheese gif for this chapter. you'll see why... i hope you enjoy though LMAO

MICHAEL MYERS x FTM!READER (he/him)

SUMMARY: When the door slammed back open with more force this time, you jumped and let out a surprised yelp. Your dad came barreling in, Michael having already disappeared back upstairs as quiet as he'd come. You tried to intercept him from storming upstairs but his horrified expression stilled you. "That was our neighbor Gladys down the street. She said she saw Myers come up to our house about an hour and a half ago."

WARNING: graphic depiction of deaths, animal violence

PREV || NEXT

"Has anyone ever shown you kindness?" Your voice had Michael opening his eyes, blinking as he looked up at you slowly, your hands tangled in his wet, sudsy hair. He was sprawled out on the porcelain bathtub while you washed his hair, the room dim and sleepy and smelling of lavender soap. He had no qualms letting his legs and arms rest upon the rim to have extra room. You’d since become accustomed to him, no longer flushing at his nakedness, so washing the blood off his skin didn’t bother you.

You’d since bought black washcloths and a black towel for Michael so your father wouldn’t get suspicious about any bloodstains. Lounge clothes - some sweatpants and a t-shirt finally in his actual size - sat folded on the counter beside the sink, his navy blue jumpsuit in a pile on the cool, linoleum floor.

For the past few weeks, you two established a routine of sorts. Michael would get hurt or hungry and come visit you. Sometimes he'd watch you sleep but he'd usually be gone by morning. With your dad's presence in the house very touch and go, it was hard for Michael to stay for any extended period of time. Sometimes he watched you from a distance whenever you'd go in the garden but that was the extent of it.

You knew it wasn't normal for him to care about another person so you did your best to make it easy for him. No more lunging at armed police officers for you, you'd lamented to him in a joking manner. You hadn't been able to see his face but you got the impression he'd glared at you.

You'd also taken to touching him more, getting him to reassociate touch with compassion. It wasn't easy to undo years of trauma but you did little things here and there. Brushing his hands with your own, touching his arm when you wanted attention, small things. He was building a tolerance to it, you could tell. Washing his hair now was the most you'd touched him beyond patching him up after run-ins with the police.

But progress was progress.

Today, he hadn't come home bloody but he had come to you for something. He'd shown up at the backdoor, made a beeline for the bathroom, and you'd gotten the message. Bathing him had also become pretty regular, though you still recalled the first few times where it'd ended with him shaking from how overwhelmed he was by your touch.

Now, though, his gaze bore into you, staring up at you like a big lazy cat. Like a lion too content to strike. Your hands had stilled, still poised to scrub at his scalp. He needed a haircut, you noted to yourself.

"Besides me," you clarified as you resumed scrubbing in slow circles. "You don't… You're-" You huffed, trying to find the words. "I feel like people didn't care for you like you needed them to. If that makes sense."

Were you anyone else, you don't doubt he'd kill you for saying that. Instead, he just glared at you, pretty hazel eyes narrowed to slits. In anger or confusion, you couldn't tell.

That was yet another development. He'd been taking his mask off of his own accord now, even when he didn't have a reason to. The first time he'd done it had been because his hair was too long and sat uncomfortable in the mask, tickling against his ears and neck. You offered to cut it and, while it took some reassurance and thought on his part, you'd come home one day to him sitting on your bed. Scissors in one hand and mask in the other, clutching it like a child would to a security blanket. He hadn't been shaking or looking up at you with fearful eyes but his jaw had been clenched hard as he white knuckled the accursed mask. A wordless question you'd answered with nimble fingers and gentle tugging on his curls.

Having something so sharp close to his vulnerable neck hadn't been his idea of a good time regardless if it was his idea or not. He'd gotten up half a dozen times during the haircut to stand in the corner to come down from what was probably overstimulation. You were patient with him though.

You'd gotten better at reading him. He'd gotten better at leaving you clues.

In the present, he sat up and slid his legs back into the water. Wet hair slipped from between your fingers as he turned to properly stare at you. Michael was interesting to you still. You could tell he was curious about you too. He stared at you often, like when you watered your plants, washed his clothes, or made food in the kitchen. You felt his eyes on you constantly no matter what.

"What?" You asked with a small sigh, staring back at him with the same intensity.

Michael gave you a slow blink, similar to the ones Mayhem gave you as a show of trust. "Don't gimme that," you teased, smirking at him and motioning for him to sit back down. "I just- I always feel bad thinking about it, in retrospect. I mean, you grew up in an asylum alone. Didn't it-"

He interrupted you by sliding a wet hand around your throat, holding you still as though to physically stop your ramblings. Not squeezing, just holding. You got the message there: let it go. He lay back down and you resumed washing his hair, unbothered by that exchange.

Things like that were normal with him. It had freaked you out at first when he'd wrapped his hand harshly around your throat and pinned you in a doorway. But you'd slowly begun to understand him. He didn't have a way to communicate that wasn't through violence or knives.

Or hospital rooms under scrutiny, you reminded yourself with a grimace. You masked it behind a soft tune you hummed, resuming washing his hair.

Once he was cleaned and dressed, jumpsuit in the wash, you ventured back downstairs to make dinner and feed Mayhem. Michael trailed after you, hair dripping dark spots along his shoulders where it was still damp. He didn't like the hair dryer very much and only tolerated you using it to get his hair comfortably damp. No more.

“You’re probably due for another haircut by the way,” you said as you opened the fridge. Mayhem was immediately rubbing up on Michael’s leg, meowing insistently.

He looked down at her, standing comfortably in the doorway to the kitchen. You glanced over your shoulder to look at him and felt struck with the knowledge that, if it weren't for his injured eye breaking the illusion, it almost felt like you just had a boyfriend over. Your face warmed up at the thought and you snapped your head back around to stare into the white, chilled expanse of the fridge. "Umm… anything specific you want tonight?"

When you looked back over at him, you jumped in surprise when he was barely a few inches from you. Jesus, you thought to yourself. You didn't think you'd ever get used to how quiet he moved sometimes.

Michael tilted his head as he stared at the fridge with you. "I need to go shopping soon, huh?"

He didn't say anything but you could almost hear his nod.

You liked how expressive he'd gotten as the two of you began to trust each other. Little things like that made the whole thing feel domestic somehow.

"Well, hope you like grilled cheese." You snagged the almost-empty package of sliced cheese and dangled it tantalizingly. "I'll go shopping tomorrow, promise. If you want anything in particular, let me know." You said as you grabbed the bread from the cabinet. Before he could say - or, technically, not say - you spun on your heel. "Besides pumpkin pie."

He nodded once and you smirked.

Domestic, your brain said again in an almost mocking tone. You swallowed and tried to focus on the sandwiches and not the way Michael stared at you. You began buttering the bread as the pan warmed up and tried to not envision life being like this forever: painfully domestic and sweet with Haddonfield's best known serial killer in soft lounge clothes you'd bought him, curled up on the couch eating an early lunch together after you'd washed his hair.

The sound of the front door rattling open was out of place and terrifying. Never in your life had you felt as though the ground would swallow you as your heart threatened to pound out of your chest. You spun to face Michael and quickly assessed your options.

There were two doorways that led out of the kitchen - one that faced the living room and another that led into the hallway to the stairs. There was a dividing wall between the two doorways. Meaning if you could get Michael into the hallway, he'd be out of sight for at least the briefest few seconds it took your dad to walk towards you.

"Upstairs, now!" You whisper-yelled, grabbing him by the arm and hauling him towards the hallway. "Stay quiet, he'll go away soon."

Hopefully, you thought to yourself. Hopefully he will.

"You're home early." You called to him as you took your spot at the stove again, spreading butter on bread and placing them in the pan.

Your dad sounded exhausted, shrugging off his outer coat and tossing it atop the back of the couch before slumping in his chair. "I decided to come home early. It's been an exhausting week. But Myers seems to be taking a break from killing these past few days."

You couldn't help but frown. Not killing? Sure you'd noticed less blood on his clothes but surely he'd stopped altogether. So close to Halloween too…

"Cool, I was, uh, making lunch." You called out over the pan sizzling. "You want some?"

The telltale creaks of the wooden floor had your hair standing up on end. It wasn't like normal sneaking around when you had a boyfriend, this was Michael Myers you were hiding. Right under his nose. Even if your dad didn't immediately go for his gun when he saw him, you were still a liar. And an accomplice to his crimes.

"Grilled cheese, huh?" He smiled for the first time since he'd taken on the case. "Want some help? I can-" The sound of his phone ringing cut him off, making him grimace. "I'll take this outside," he sighed as he went back out the door. You sighed with relief and looked towards the doorway to the stairs.

Michael stood there, mask on, gripping a knife tight in his hand. You had no idea where he'd gotten it, since your knives were accounted for.

You tried to seem reassuring. "He's probably going to get called back into work, it's okay." Even though you'd gotten used to it, you still swallowed when you saw the glint of the knife in the dim lighting of the doorway. "He, um, he said you haven't been killing lately?"

Michael was eerily still. Just staring at you.

"Is everything…okay?" It felt a bit weird asking when he was going to kill someone again. Like it was just a casual hobby of his. "Just let me know, alright?"

He just stared at you. His walls were back up, you could tell, so you tried to not take it personally.

When the door slammed back open with more force this time, you jumped and let out a surprised yelp. Your dad came barreling in, Michael having already disappeared back upstairs as quiet as he'd come. You tried to intercept him from storming upstairs but his horrified expression stilled you. "That was our neighbor Gladys down the street. She said she saw Myers come up to our house about an hour and a half ago." His gun was out, alarming you. "Have you… have you seen anything?"

"No." You swallowed around your lie, quickly turning the stove off, lunch forgotten. "No, it's been quiet. I was out in my garden, mostly."

He didn't seem convinced though. "She said he was circling around the house before coming inside."

At that, he froze. He held a finger to his lips, signaling you to be quiet. You wanted to roll your eyes at how comical this was but you also couldn't afford to break character. Scared young child of the police detective, home alone with a killer in this house.

"Where's your cat?" He whispered, glancing up at the ceiling as though expecting to hear footsteps.

Glancing around, you tried to play up your alarm. "I don't know!" You whisper-yelled. "Do you think he's-?"

"Dead, then." Your dad's bluntness made you flinch. "Myers usually kills the pets first. Keeps 'em from sounding an alarm." He didn't even try to look sympathetic as he crept towards the stairs. You followed after him as he crept silently from room to room, pushing the door open slightly before scanning the room with his gun out. It made you anxious and you kept periodically glancing towards your bedroom, dreading the impending inspection. First the hall closet, then his bedroom, then the bathrooms, and finally: your bedroom.

You felt sweat drip down your temple as he pushed open the door. Everything felt tense, suffocating you as you chewed anxiously on the nail of your thumb.

He swung open the closet door and fired at the first sign of movement.

Mayhem yowled, a sharp, piercing sound, then darted past your legs as he took off down the hall. "MAYHEM!" You shrieked in horror, watching blood trail behind him faster than you could catch him. You ignored your dad's stammered apologies and took off after your cat.

The blood trail went down the stairs and out through the back door, which had been left cracked open to let Mayhem come and go as he pleased. Now he was gone. Your heart sank as you ran outside, crying for Mayhem to come back. In the tall, mud-riddled forest it was hard to see any kind of blood trail or spot your all black cat. Minutes ticked by with no response and you fell to your knees, wrapping your arms around yourself as you bawled.

He was your little kitty. And now he was gone.

"Sweetheart, I- I'm so sorry. I didn't know he was there." Your dad tried to explain as he watched you from the doorway. "It- It'll come back, I'm sure."

"You SHOT him!" You rounded on him almost instantly, storming up to meet him and relishing in the way he backed up in fear of your anger. "You SHOT him and now he might DIE out there!" While you didn't consider yourself an angry nor violent person, it felt vindicating to shove him and watch him stumble back. "You don't even CARE!"

"No, I don't!" He shouted, trying to scare you back. "It's just a cat! What if Myers had been there, huh?"

You felt hysteric. "I don't care about that! Fuck, dad, I care about my CAT!"

Suddenly, he'd grabbed you by the shoulders and slammed you into the nearby wall, his voice hissing like a viper when he spoke. "I don't give a shit about your fucking cat. I am stressed enough as it is and I am focused on finding Michael fucking Myers, not your shitty little cat. Let. It. Go."

The sign of movement in the shadows behind him made you smile.

Michael grabbed your dad by the back of his shirt and yanked him back harshly, letting him fall to the kitchen floor. He stood there, knife tight in his fist as he stood over the whimpering man who scrambled for his gun.

You watched with an empty expression as Michael kicked the gun aside, skittering on the tiled floor and out of reach. "Grab it!" He hissed at you. Michael tilted his head down at him but he tried to not be intimidated. "Grab my gun, just-"

Reality began to settle in as shock wore off. Your ears were still ringing from the gunshots and you could smell the charred butter coming off the stove. "Michael." Your mouth moved but you didn't feel like your words were yours. "I'm okay."

A heavy boot thudded against your dad's chest and you watched him scramble to try and understand. The dark pits of the mask's eye holes bore into you, almost searching for permission.

"You've been hiding him." Your dad gasped in horror. "You've been hiding the man I've been hunting. Right. Under. My fucking nose!" He roared, struggling to get out from under Michael, only ending up grabbed like a scruffed kitten in his attempts to lunge at you. "How long!? How long has he been hiding here?!"

You didn't feel like answering. So you didn't.

He didn't like that though. "What have you two been doing? What, do you nurse him back to health under my fucking roof every night? Is that why you've been buying first aid shit?"

None of this felt real to you in any substantial way. It felt like a movie almost, a sick indie film about a serial killer you'd grown attached to finally snapping and slaughtering your family because you'd finally given him the chance to get close. You watched Michael press the tip of his knife to your dad's sternum and could almost see the anger and hatred rolling off the masked man in waves.

After all, you'd given him a hard line of not hurting Mayhem. And your dad just broke that rule.

You backed up against the fridge and slid to the floor, watching with a distant expression as Michael wrestled the man to the floor. "Yeah." You said quietly, more to yourself than to him. "I clean him. Bandage him. He protects me." A wet laugh left your throat at the absurdity of it all. "We're partners."

No point in hiding it anymore.

"M-maybe I should call Loomis, s-see if I can get you two joint rooms in the fucking asylum-!" The man below Michael yelled out, his words muffling as Michael jabbed the knife into him. Wet squelching sounds that became almost monotonous as hot red sprays erupted from the holes in his neck. Puddles of red seeped beneath the man's body and Michael seemed to relish in the thrill.

"You killed my cat," you mumbled bitterly to the corpse of the man you once called dad.

And you watched as the body ran cold with Michael's anger. He stood up, towering over you as he tracked bloody footprints as he approached you. "Hi." You said absently, giving him a small smile. "You'll have to kill our neighbor. No witnesses."

He tilted his head curiously and you just let your head fall between your knees. You didn't want to talk about this anymore than you had to. "Just- Just get rid of the body, okay? I'll clean up."

Had you looked up, you would have seen his nod.

The stench of bleach burned your nose and made your eyes water as you scrubbed at the now blood-free kitchen floor. You'd opened the windows to air out the smell but it still felt like it was suffocating. But there was no evidence anymore, thank god.

You didn't ask Michael what he'd done with the bodies. You'd kept your head down when he'd lifted it up and carried it with him out the back door and you were content not knowing. It would only serve to upset you.

Clutching the rim of the sink, you let out a long, pained sigh. Things were going to change now. Your father and Mayhem's blood was all gone, the knives would be disinfected, and Michael's jumpsuit would go through the wash again. No evidence any of this had even happened.

Logically, you knew this should upset you. It did, only in the sense that the wet plunging sounds of the knife echoed in your mind. But you couldn't feel anything beyond anger that he'd shot Mayhem. That he didn't care about you, only his work. It infuriated you to think about how little your life would change with him gone. The house was bought and paid for, you knew everything he owned would be left to you, and life would continue on.

He didn't matter, in the grand scheme of things. You repeated this mantra over and over to yourself as you heard the back door open.

Michael stood there, his hands and suit stained with blood. Flecks of dark red stained the white mask in harsh streaks that made you want to hurl. "How, um, how did it go?" You tried giving him a smile but fell short. He approached you and you did your best to hide your flinch when he took your wrist. Red stained your skin and you heard the sickening stabbing again. "Sorry," you mumbled, "I should have done something to- to try to make him leave, or-"

Michael cut you off with a harsh tug on your arm. Your head snapped up to meet his eyes behind the mask, your own wide in confusion. He just stared you down, only gripping you tighter when you tried to pull away.

His silent question felt loud in the little kitchen, even if he said nothing. "I'm… I'll be okay." But you weren't sure if you were telling that to him or yourself. "It was inevitable. I- I just didn't think it would be so soon. But, um, I knew I was… I knew I was going to be sticking with you. Partners, right?"

You didn't wait for any type of response, gesturing to his jumpsuit. "Lets, um, get you into clean clothes, yeah?"

Michael didn't budge.

Slowly, achingly slowly, he lifted his hand towards your face, dragging a bloody finger down your cheek and marveled at the way it stained your skin. A red to match his own,

And as quickly as he came, he left. His footfalls were heavy as he went up to the bathroom and left you floundering in the kitchen. You broke from your trance only when you heard the shower running. Swallowing, you followed his trail upstairs to collect his bloody clothes. You could only hope the blood was fresh enough to come out easy.

When you passed by Mayhem's food dish, you winced at the memory of your cat's blood streaked across the house. You filled his bowls and set them outside, hoping the prospect of dinner would entice him home.

It was the best you could do, really…

The cops came two days later. When no one on the force had seen or heard from him in a few days, they'd come by to check. It wasn't hard to play up your distress. The five stages of grief had hit you harder than expected. On the first day, you'd just yelled at Michael, slamming your fists into his chest as he watched you curiously. You'd wondered to yourself after sobbing over breakfast how he'd felt after his sister died. You'd only ever heard stories but you wanted to ask him.

"We found him off a backroad down the way with an older woman in the car," the officer interviewing you asked. "Do you have any idea what that was about?"

You swallowed and shook your head. "He, um, he mentioned he got a call from Gladys. That, uh, Myers was outside her house so- so he told me he was going to take her to a hotel and then go back to work." Your voice trembled as you spoke. "H-he'd been working so much, I-"

The officer gave you a sympathetic look. "I'm so sorry, kid."

Michael was easily named the killer so you weren't even considered a suspect. What they didn't know was that he was taking this opportunity while the police were busy to kill again, letting out his frustrations that had been building up.

He hadn't left you alone since your dad had died. Always hovering in doorways or your wrist if you were close enough. You knew Michael well enough at this point to know he didn't necessarily feel bad for what he did. But he was certainly capable of fearing your reaction. You could easily turn him in now, all wound up emotions like a ticking time bomb.

But you didn't. You were partners. A pact now sealed in your father's blood

Once the police left, you wanted to get out of the house. It all felt too suffocating. You just needed a moment without Michael's eyes on you, if such a thing existed. So you'd gotten dressed into proper clothes and went into town. You knew the whole town would be looking at you so you tried to keep yourself presentable while still looking a wreck.

Which wasn't hard, after everything that happened.

News reports of your dad's false crime scene would be all over the news in a day. All over the televisions, newspapers, and your dad's police buddies would be sharing stories in bars over drinks. You felt sick at the knowledge that he'd had a life outside you and your little bubble of fake domesticity with a serial killer.

It all felt like a huge reality check that left you stumbling like a drunk on the curbside.

You snapped back to your body as you stared emptily at some crummy greeting cards in the little general store. You'd been walking the aisles with no clear goal in mind and many of the other patrons simply let you pass with pitiful smiles that made your skin crawl. "I should've looked at the fridge…" You mumbled to no one.

"Hey." A soft voice interrupted your train of thought and you gave a glance over your shoulder. Laurie Strode, dressed in all black like she was attending a funeral. Maybe she was - a funeral for the town. You knew the paranoia of Michael stalking her never really went away and you felt a little bad for her. A part of you wished you could reassure her.

“Oh, um, hi.” You stuttered inelegantly. “What- um-“

“I’m sorry,” she gave you a sorrowful look. You were getting pretty sick of those. “I heard about your dad… Michael is ruthless.”

You swallowed around a lump building in your throat. “Y-yeah. I hope, um, you’re doing okay too.” You tried to give her a reassuring smile but you weren’t sure if it came out like a grimace.

Laurie just laughed, no joy behind her tight smile. “I’ll survive. Always do.”

You said your polite goodbyes and you left her, now even more uneasy. It was jarring to be reminded that life existed outside your little house in the forest, that Michael's actions had consequences that spread far beyond just you.

It made you wonder if Michael’s intentions were what you thought they were. He’d never leave Haddonfield. Not willingly. He’d continue killing with or without you in his life.

And that knowledge made you feel sick.

Your dad's funeral was mostly uneventful. A few of his work friends came to console you but you denied their company when you went to the cemetery. Your dad had told you many times when you were young that, when he died, he wanted to be poured into water used to help grow flowers on your late mothers grave. It had struck you as odd then but now you understood.

Guilt still ate at you. He'd probably haunt you if he didn't get to be reunited with your mom in some way, so you'd bought some daisies - her favorite, according to him - and brought them with his ashes and a bottle of water. Haddonfield's graveyard was nothing spectacular, just rows and rows of headstones. Some newer with fresh flowers and photos, some older and covered in moss and dirt. The forgotten ones always made your heart clench.

You pointedly kept your head down when you passed Judith Myers' grave. Her parents had a joint headstone beside her, a spot they'd reserved for themselves a year after she'd died. According to stories, they'd believed Michael deserved nothing but cremation. No tombstone, no funeral, just death in silence.

The fate of the Myers family had been a horrible story. Even after their son was shipped off to Smith's Grove, the family still received harsh criticisms for what they'd done. While Michael's actions were certainly the focus, some people still believed the parents had some sway in it or had influenced his behavior. He'd only been a little boy, after all. A possibly mentally ill, neglected child whose parents had, allegedly, favored Judith to the point Michael acted out.

A car crash killed them, according to the news. You weren't sure. The timings had been too close and their funerals had been closed caskets. But you'd been too young to really care about that sort of thing. Now, though, you were curious. It felt like you'd get answers somehow if you knew. Regardless, Michael was left without guardianship and became a ward of the state, locked away in a hospital for fifteen years. At first, the town didn't know what to think of him. The poor, unstable boy who now had no one waiting for him if he ever got out. Many villainized him, of course, but some wanted to see him make a full recovery. They saw a traumatized child who needed help.

It was only after Michael broke out of Smith’s Grove and killed again that public opinion on him changed.

You pushed those thoughts away and focused on kneeling before your mothers grave. Your fingers were still damp from the wet earth you'd pulled out as you'd dug a little hole for the flowers all on autopilot. The little flowers looked nice, spots of white and yellow against mucky browns and greens. This wasn't that different from gardening, you thought to yourself as you added the water into the jar of your father's ashes. Not that different at all.

It felt a bit weird. But it was his wish. After everything you'd done, the least you could do was honor that. Besides, you didn’t really think you could cope with having the jar of his ashes in the house you’d let him die in. So you poured the water over the flowers, dirt under your nails as you showered them graciously.

You'd never made a habit of talking to your mom's grave. Your dad did it a few times and you'd seen people doing it before but there was just no appeal to you. Talking to air felt weird and you weren't exactly going to start now. You'd never known your mom, she didn't need to hear your stories.

She’d died when you were young so it wasn't like you knew her. The concept of a mother meant more to you than who she specifically did. When you were growing up, sometimes you'd feel a longing absence that she wasn't there but the woman buried beneath your feet still meant nothing to you. A stranger whose photos lined the walls of your dad's bedroom - photos you would probably store in the attic. Like you'd never really known them. A part of your dad died with your mom anyways so the symbolism felt right.

He’d always go on and on about how much you looked like her, how similar you two were, that sort of crap. Now, staring at her headstone, you wondered what she’d think of you.

The feeling of eyes on you has become commonplace for you now. An is-ness rather than a concern. So you didn't even bother lifting your head. Just slumped forward, cross-legged, and picking at the dirt under your nails, flicking it at the daisies. "Do you ever miss them?" You asked aloud. You knew Michael was close enough to hear, especially since you were alone. "Your parents, I mean. I doubt you miss your sister too much. I mean, I heard what you did with her headstone when you killed those high schoolers." The bitterness in your tone was not missed but it didn't feel right to put words in his mouth.

"I'm still trying to decide how I feel." You sighed, poking at soft petals. "I never knew my mother so I can't miss her. She wasn't part of my life, only her ghost was. But I don't know how I feel about my dad dying. It always felt like I was competing with her for his affection. He loved her so much and could barely spare me a passing glance…" You swallowed and your throat clicked. "Sometimes I wonder if he'd have been happier if I had died and she'd lived.

If Michael Myers had to be the one to hear your confessions, at least you knew he wouldn't tell anyone.

You wiped your eyes and sniffled. "It's weird. I haven't decided if I hate him for that yet. If I hate him at all, even." When you looked up, Michael was staring down at you, face hidden behind the mask. You almost envied his ability to simply hide his feelings away. You'd never been able to avoid wearing your heart on your sleeve. "Do you ever think about if your parents wished it had been you instead of Judith?"

The silence felt suffocating and you broke into a helpless sob. The kind of crying that you did when no one was around and it felt like nothing was ever going to be okay again. Michael sat down beside you in the dirt, silent companionship through your tears.

He didn't say anything. But he didn't have to.

#🔪 creeps writes #slasher x reader #slasher x s/o #slasher fanfiction #halloween 1978 #michael myers #michael myers x you #michael myers x reader #mask of hate

73 notes · View notes

thezombieprostitute · 4 months

Note

"See how he reacts to the silent treatment."

Girl you're just asking for a death sentence!!! 😂😵‍💫 Rip to you lmao

A/N: this was entirely written on my phone. Reader is gender neutral, no physical descriptions.

Warnings: angst? Let me know if I missed any!

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

The house is unusually quiet and not just because you were giving Lloyd the silent treatment. You'd warned him that the last slice of cheesecake was for you. You'd set it aside specifically as a reward for your day of unending meetings.

When you had gotten home, exhausted, the one treat you'd been looking forward to was gone. You found the plate in the sink with the telltale crumbs. Confronting Lloyd led to him grinning as he confessed, "what are you gonna do about it, Pumpkin?"

Clearly he was expecting something along the lines of you smacking his ass or exchanging orgasms for forgiveness but you were exhausted and angry. So instead of responding you storm off to change into pajamas and go to bed. He pesters you the entire time but you maintain your silence, ignoring him the best you can.

As you lay down and try to sleep Lloyd goes to cuddle and you push him away. He tries all of his go-to moves and phrases but eventually you get up and go to sleep on the couch.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," Lloyd scoffs as you lay down, back to him. "It was just a slice of cheesecake!"

He changes tactics to make you lash out at him. As much as he's stoking the flames of your ire, you're aware enough to realize what you're doing is working. It helps you to keep ignoring him.

Eventually he huffs and backs off, letting you get some actual sleep.

When you wake up the next morning, a little sore from the couch, it's eerily quiet. From the looks of things Lloyd's already gone to work. No kiss goodbye or anything. You feel bad but damnit, you're stubborn enough to keep this up until he apologizes.

You arrive at your office and there are several bouquets of your favorite flowers. You don't need to check the cards to know who they're from. None of the cards contain an apology so you pass out the bouquets to some of your workers who you know will appreciate them.

Around lunchtime good gets delivered to your office. Again, no apology note so, again, you give the food to your employees.

You're genuinely not surprised when, after work, you find your car missing. In its place is Lloyd in his car. You briefly contemplate calling an Uber but you do genuinely feel safer taking the ride from Lloyd and get into the passenger seat.

He makes several attempts to get you to talk, his knuckles turning white from how hard he's gripping the wheel. He says several things but none of them are an apology so you continue to give him the silent treatment.

By the time you get home he's fully tense with rage. As soon as the door is unlocked you get out of the car and head inside. There's a veritable feast waiting for you in the dining room. Lloyd must've spent the whole day cooking for you. Again, you feel a little bad, but he still hasn't apologized so you grab a bowl of cereal to eat for dinner.

"Oh come on, Pumpkin," Lloyd yells at you. "It was just a slice of cheesecake! You're really gonna pass off all of the shit I've been getting you for a slice of cheesecake?!"

You ignore him and continue eating your cereal.

"You're killing me here! What do you want? You want an apology? I'm fucking sorry I ate the cheesecake--"

Before he can say anything else you stand up and give a dramatic, "oh thank God!" You march over to him, grab his face and pull him in for a kiss. You can't see his eyebrows raise when you go so far as to shove your tongue into his mouth.

When you break the kiss you smack his ass, "do you have any idea how much I missed you?" You spank him again. "How much I wanted to thank you for the flowers and food?" Another smack. "How difficult it was to get to sleep without cuddles? I fucking missed you, Lloyd!"

He looks at you, torn between being dumbfounded and being turned on by your attitude, stubbornness and arm strength.

"Thank you for finally apologizing," you tell him. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna pig out on this feast that I know will be delectable because you're the best damn cook I know." You give him another kiss.

As you turn to get a plate Lloyd grabs you and spins you towards him. "You think you can just do that and walk away from me? I'm already half hard!"

"Then I guess I'll have to moan even louder than usual as I eat and get you fully erect."

As you walk away you hear Lloyd mumble, "fuck I love you."

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

Tagging @alicedopey and @icefrozendeadlyqueen because I promised I would.

#zombie asks #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x gn!reader

116 notes · View notes

for-ests · 8 months

Text

Suffocation: Gojo Satoru x Reader

Suffocation MLIST Summary: Gojo saves you just in time, and in return, you reveal the secret you've never shared with another. You then agree to go on a date with him. Wc: 4,606 Warnings: violence

Terror. All Gojo could hear was terror.

You had gotten into his head, and you were in mortal peril. His blood ran cold, realizing he was correct in his assumptions. He had let you leave against his better judgment, relenting to your insistence.

He would be damned if anything happened to you. The guilt would be too much, and he still didn't understand why. He was drawn to you in a way he’d never known.

Because of that unexplainable reason, all he had to do was feel for you. You were close enough; your emotions were loud enough. Your connection broke through the barriers, and Gojo could follow that tug through the compressed space until he appeared behind the curse that was currently forcing you to your feet by your hair.

Behind you was your flipped car, the back end of it flattened, the airbags spilling out of the shattered windows. You screamed out again and desperately tried to grasp onto the curse’s face, clawing it with all of your force. All you needed was one look in its eyes; you had to if you had any chance of surviving.

And you didn't even know if it would work.

The curse was laughing madly, seeming to enjoy your torment. "Pretty.... I can be pretty...Like human girl?"

Horrified, you thrashed against whatever the misshapen creature in front of you was. You did not know curses could speak; it was far different than any you'd encountered before. It was clawing against your skin, drawing more blood the harder you resisted.

"I-I..." The inhuman voice filled your ears. "I want...skin..."

Hearing those words, watching how it toyed with you, Gojo confirmed that one of Sukuna’s fingers was inside it. The curse probably sniffed you out the second you left campus, as his scent was all over you, and so was the proximity of Sukuna's vessel. If this curse were to kill you, it would follow your trail back to campus.

Legs kicking, you cried out. What angered Gojo the most was that your face was already bloodied, and your clothes were ripped. It touched you in a way that angered every part of him as if it wanted something more than just your power—the filthy thoughts of the demon.

Despite your predicament, you refused to stop fighting. You were almost there, hooking your nails into the flesh of its cheek, forcing its eyes closer to yours. You tried to ignore how its hands inched down your sides, latching onto the hemline of your pants. It was touching you all over, tainting your skin.

“Stop!” You screamed, the discomfort and pain catching up with you. As if finally sensing your motive, its hand clamped down on both your wrists and pulled them off its face. Any hope you had of escaping vanished. There was no way you could fight against six hands.

That was when Gojo stepped in. He knew you hadn’t noticed him yet, and the more cynical part of him wanted to see what you could truly do, but it wasn’t the time. You weren’t strong enough, not experienced enough. Only a second had passed since his arrival, but it felt longer. It made him sick to see you in pain, to see you fearful.

All those strange emotions inside of him bubbled over, and he reached forward to rip the curse’s head off with one swift movement.

It happened so fast that you were reactionless, only able to close your mouth before steaming hot blood was splattered all over you. You hung there, limp in the headless curse’s grip, blinking in confusion. Gasping, you felt the hands slacken around your frame.

And before your feet could even connect with the ground again, Gojo pulled you from the curse’s death grip and into his own arms.

In astonishment, you stared up at Gojo, then buried your face into his chest. It was all you could think about, seeking safety in his touch and presence. One of his hands held your face there, shielding you from the remaining massacre as he exorcized the curse, the body exploding out in all directions.

Hearing the squelching of mishappen flesh, you winced against him.

He protected you from the blowback, not wanting you to get any more dirty than you already were. “It's okay now,” Gojo whispered lowly. “Its gone.”

Setting you down gently, you kept your eyes shut and back turned as you found your footing again. Your heart was still hammering in your chest, the absurdity of it all crashing into you. You almost died, and Gojo had saved you just in time, eliminating a beastly cursed spirit within two movements.

But you couldn’t open your eyes just yet. You didn't want to see it. You could still feel the hands all over you, how helpless you were.

The sorcerer leaned down to pick up the only thing left—Sukuna’s finger. He shoved it into his pocket before you gained the courage to glance over your shoulder.

“T-thank you.” You managed to choke out, hurriedly peeling off your jacket to wipe the blood off your face, only to watch it bubble and steam into thin air, leaving you clean once again.

“I should have never let you leave.” His shoulders were slumped forward in shame, pausing for a moment, head turned away. "Knew this would happen."

You didn't know how to respond. All you could do was stare at the rips in your jacket, the fabrics far beyond saving. You bundled it against your fists.

"It's too dangerous for you," he said.

The sound of glass shards squeaking against concrete made you glance up timidly. Gojo stepped back toward you, closer to you. You could feel his eyes inspecting your entire body.

All you seemed to suffer from was a punch to the face that broke the skin of your cheekbone, with some deeper cuts along your arms and torso. Strange, as he thought your durability would be lower. Maybe, just maybe, you had other abilities that were invisible even to him.

Gojo grasped your chin and beckoned you to look up at him. The look of admiration in your eyes took his breath away as you parted your lips nervously. Why weren’t you afraid of him? Why weren’t you still shaken up from what just happened to you? Were you even in pain?

Safe. That was what you felt in his presence.

“What could possibly be so important in that motel room that you had to leave at this hour?” He asked, brushing his thumb softly along your cheek and wiping away the blood before he could stop himself.

Your expression immediately softened. The contact felt surprisingly peaceful, diminishing the lingering fear and paranoia that still danced in the back of your mind. Gojo's comforting touch alone was enough.

“I can show you,” You whispered with a tinge of seduction, leaning into his touch without realizing it and seeking comfort in his large, calloused hands.

Oh, how badly you wanted to look into his eyes.

Realizing how close he was to your lips, how he’d touched you so tenderly without asking, Gojo dropped his hands away. Your fingers had been inches away from tugging against his bandage. “I see what you’re trying to do.” He smirked.

“I’m not trying to do anything, Gojo.” You pouted, crossing your arms and taking a step back. “I would never do something like that without your permission.”

“Aha!” Gojo pointed at you, grinning as if he’d caught you in a deliberate lie. “So you thought about it?”

Laughing at the absurdity of it all, you threw your hands up. “You caught me.”

Good. You were laughing. And when you stopped, glancing at him with a shake of your head, he watched you smile. A smile that undoubtedly took his breath away. And for a moment, he was speechless.

He noticed that your lips were moving but could not register any words, only allowing himself a split second to fantasize about how they would feel and taste.

Then, the question you asked filled his ears. Why do you hide them?

He shrugged, releasing himself from the haze you seemed to cast over him. “Because I’m powerful.”

“Clearly,” you sighed. A moment passed where you seemed to gather your composure, not just from him, but from the fight you endured before he arrived. It was all too much. It was all too confusing. “Am I allowed to know the reason why?”

Feeling his gaze without seeing it, your heart skipped a beat. You remembered the brush of his finger across your cheek, the warmth of it, the comfort. How he’d come as quickly as he could and saved you. He saved you.

Your cheeks grew hot as Gojo gestured toward the direction of the motel. He began to walk, and you trailed behind him without question. There was no denying how powerful he was. A part of you then promised you would bother him until you learned more and understood every part of him. Even if that required you to share your dark secrets in return.

“My gift allows me to see cursed energy all the time,” Gojo said, glancing down at you as you approached his side. He suddenly revealed your purse, seemingly out of thin air, and outstretched it to you. “Covering my eyes helps relieve that stress.”

When did he grab your purse from your car? Your head shot back to the crushed vehicle now behind the both of you. Mouth parting in confusion, you moved to snatch the purse from him until he held it above his head.

Tsking at you, Gojo instead fastened it around the shoulder farthest from you. “What do you have in this bag, woman? It's heavy as hell.”

All you could do was throw your head back in laughter. “At least get the key out,” you replied, knowing that battling for it back would be futile. It was a kind gesture, after all.

The two of you strolled through the parking lot until you approached the room you’d rented. It was nothing special, definitely run down—but the hot springs had drawn you there. It was too bad you wouldn't be able to bathe in them tonight.

Gojo held the door open for you, flipping the lights on as you entered.

He only saw a backpack on the bed and a dark violet notebook on the bedside table.

“I didn’t think you’d be the type of girl to pack light,” he said, leaning against the door once it clicked shut.

Scoffing, you immediately walked to the table and reached for the notebook. Once you grasped it, your mood shifted into something more sour. “I didn’t think I’d find my brother so quickly and be attacked by a curse today, either.”

Gojo noticed, and for a moment, his confidence diminished. The playfulness that you reciprocated before felt like a guise. Were you really okay? He wouldn't have cared this much for anyone else, but with you—he did. Deeply.

“You’re positive you want to come back with me?” He asked, somewhat apprehensively.

“Clearly, I can’t be alone anymore,” you replied, knowing you sounded snippy as the words flew from your mouth. Even though you had every reason to be, it still made you stiffen. You weren't mad at him; you just felt helpless at the same time. You quite literally stepped into a world you did not know. And he needed to be honest with you. If he was what he claimed to be.

So, you turned to face him. There was nothing particular in your eyes, but your stare was enough to etch a reply.

“There’s nothing else for miles.” Gojo shrugged. "If you need some alone time."

You raised an eyebrow and slung the backpack over one shoulder, tilting your head as you crossed the room toward him. Of course, he would catch your mood shifting; of course, he would see that you were really not okay, that you were scared, that you found it hard to trust. At least he could be thoughtful when he wanted to be.

You looked up at him, opening your mouth to reply until he cut you off.

“Yes I can tell. If I'm around, nothing will attack you."

He was way too cocky, you decided. But for some reason, it didn’t bother you. In fact, the confidence suited him. The way he held himself was most definitely for a reason. And you would play along for distraction or not. If he could protect you in the way he claimed, you would indulge.

“I was actually thinking I would take your bed for the night, and you could sleep on the couch," you declared teasingly as he leaned into you, and you instinctively tilted your head up to meet him, lips inches from each other.

“Nobody sleeps in my bed without me.” Gojo smirked, the tone bordering on a dare.

“Even after everything I’ve been through today?” You bat your eyelashes, holding the notebook against your chest tighter. The door handle was an inch away, and your eyes flickered to it.

Strangely enough, the sorcerer noticed your gaze and the energy billowing from the notebook pressed tightly against your chest. Swiftly and without words, he turned, guiding you until your back was leaning against the door.

“Show me what's in that notebook, Princess.” Gojo set his arm against the door, just above your shoulder. He had trapped you. “And maybe I’ll consider.”

Your tongue nervously glided across your lips. “Get me out of here first-”

Breath stopping short, you felt his arm slide back around your lower waist before you could finish. Flirtatious that time, his hand on your hip was filled with tenderness, curiosity, yet patience. It wasn’t like the last time. There was no teasing behind it. Instead, he waited for your reaction to affirm he was correct in his assumptions, to see if you felt that other-worldly pull.

Through your eyelashes, you glanced at him timidly but curled both your arms under his, holding on tight. He better not drop you.

“Your wish is my command,” Gojo hummed, his grip tightening when he moved you as close to him as possible. The contact triggered the enchantment you refused to feel earlier, those uncategorized feelings that felt foreign and undeserved. An acknowledgment of your attraction, the desire for something more.

Voice catching in your throat, you couldn’t muster a reply before the ground disappeared from your feet.

What you witnessed in that split second was something you would never be able to explain. It was limitless power in its purest, rawest form. Lights and stars, neverending peace and tranquility. Across space and time, flashes of unnamed organisms. The essence of life itself was viable, but only for a moment.

It was all ripped away before your eyes could even comprehend what colors flashed before you.

Blinking, still pressed against him, you found yourself in a surprisingly well-furnished apartment.

“Wow," you blurted, eyes immediately finding a Star Wars poster framed above a leather couch. There was more, but your vision was hazy. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

And then it hit you, the nausea, the prickling of skin, the beauty of what you’d experienced. Words were unavailable to you at that moment. Your mind was racing, and your heart was still pounding.

Peering up at him with wide, sparkling eyes, you remembered just how close you were to him, how safe you felt in his arms, how comfortable it was to feel his hands around your hips. “What in the absolute fuck was that?” You breathed, gathering what you'd seen faster than anyone else who had witnessed his domain.

He chuckled, letting his arms fall away, giving you your space. Gojo scanned your body language and debated if he should teleport a trashcan before you.

“I’m fine,” you chuckled light-heartedly, letting the backpack slide off your shoulders.

Could you read his mind? It seemed so with how witty you were. No woman had ever been able to deal with his bashful humor, let alone read his body language so well.

“I’m not trying to tease you any more,” Gojo reassured. “If you need to sleep I won’t stop you.”

“No.” You rolled your eyes, snatching your purse off his shoulder. “I’m showing you not matter what.”

After rummaging through your purse, you pulled out an unusually outdated item. You held the quill to him, which seemed to have never been dipped in ink.

“Ink?” Gojo looked at you.

“Nope.” You popped your lips, finding the nearest surface which happened to be the island in his kitchen. A moment passed as Gojo watched you set the notebook down and the quill next to it. The way you moved was somehow delicate and thoughtful, yet he knew there were layers about you, layers he was desperate to peel back.

God, you were beautiful. Like the brightest star in the galaxy, seemingly so close but so far away—almost unattainable. As if it would take a lifetime to understand your intricacies.

You opened the notebook to the most recent entry. Immediately, Gojo saw the cursed energy woven into the pages. There were symbols and words, poetry and art.

Despite your previous confidence, you were now timid as you brandished your secrets, still debating if you should trust him even if it was too late. “I don’t even remember writing any of these. I sort of black out when it happens. I keep the quill on me at all times, just in case.”

“Why?” He asked, standing behind you, peaking over your shoulder with intrigue. He had his guesses, but there were times when even his extensive training and knowledge couldn’t identify or explain what was displayed in front of him.

Still unable to see if he was looking at your work, you rambled on nervously. “It never works with any other utensil. And if I don't write it out in time, I glitch in and out of consciousness until I do.”

Gojo was enraptured with your talent. Prophecy was rare enough in itself. But what stopped him short was how intricate it was. Somehow, your cursed energy was utterly mesmerizing. You were an artist, and you didn’t even know it. He hadn’t even processed what had been written yet.

“Months ago, I refused to write until I seized. When I woke up, 2 days had passed, and I wrote complete gibberish that filled the four notebooks I had in my house. And then I scribbled symbols onto the wall of my apartment,” you paused. "I was never able to figure out what it all meant."

Nodding his head, Gojo set both hands on the table, his pinky finger brushing against yours. “Do you remember what day exactly?”

“September 7th.” You looked at him hesitantly, on the verge of blushing.

That was the same day Yuji swallowed Sukuna’s first finger.

Pulling your hand away, you pushed the notebook to him and flipped the page. “I wrote this two days ago.”

The page would be blank to the average eye, but perfectly etched lines were visible for any jujutsu user. Other-worldly penmanship graced Gojo's eyes.

The goddess of the stars foretells serenity born from destruction

Reuniting a pair of powerful siblings, descendants of demonic plight

The white-haired emissary will reach fruition after trading souls

And when the moment comes that the sky turns a different blue,

The seer will reach infinity, guiding the new generation into victory.

Your finger smushed against the invisible ink. “That’s definitely about you.”

“Have any of these ever come true?” Gojo raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

You nodded confidently. “Every single one of them. But they don’t come often.”

A moment passed before he threw his head back and laughed, genuinely taken aback. “You continue to surprise me.”

“So, do I get the bed?”

The sorcerer closed the gap between you, the expression on his half-hidden face enough for you to understand that he was truthful with his words. It made you wonder how easily you could read him by looking into his eyes. You fantasized about their color, how they would widen or squint, how they would soften when he looked at you.

Deep inside your soul, you could feel they were doing that. You desperately wanted to explore that curiosity, once again leaning closer, waiting for him to take your lips.

“Maybe I want mo-”

Before Gojo could finish, the front door shot open, revealing a frantic Yuji. His phone was gripped tightly in his hand, flashing your text.

“Are you okay, Y/N!?” Yuji bellowed, rigid and ready to fight.

“Y-yeah?” You stuttered, immediately backing away from Gojo, trying to ignore how enticed you had been, how close you were, and what almost happened.

No. It was nothing. Nothing was going to happen.

Yuji blinked, glancing between the stances of his teacher and supposed older sister. “You literally only texted me help!” He shoved the screen in your face. “And you didn't think to let me know you were alright?”

Weird. You glimpsed the messages with no recognition, but the contact was visible, your phone number apparent. “I’m sorry Yuji.” You frowned, face contorting more than that, guilt and shame, regret. Of course, you would be that careless. And it did not reflect well on you if your main goal was to try and befriend your biological brother.

“I picked her up, no worries Yuji,” Gojo chided nonchalantly, stepping between Itadori and you. “I just brought her back a few minutes ago.”

“What happened?” He dropped his hands to his side.

“I was attacked by a cursed spirit…” You trailed off, trying to find a way to explain it all without sounding like you almost died. “My car is totaled.”

“WHAT?” Yuji yelled, mouth dropping open. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!’ You threw your hands up with a forced smile, letting out a nervous giggle. You pointed to the cut on your face. “Seriously, it’s okay. Just a few scratches. Plus, I’ll be staying here for a bit longer.”

Your younger brother studied your face before grasping your arms, holding them above his head, and inspecting. Just a few scratches, as you claimed.

“Why did you let her leave if you were suspicious?” Yuji turned to Gojo and questioned on your behalf. “She could have died!”

“I left on my own, Yuji,” you said. “He tried to make me stay.”

Gojo glanced between the two of you. He stopped on Yuji and saw how furious he was, and it made him feel incredibly guilty, knowing he had messed up. The fact it was with you made it harder to deflect.

And clearly, you were flustered and confused, not just because he was pursuing you but because your brother had caught you both red-handed. Not that anything was going on, of course. But still, Gojo felt strange, in the middle of two siblings, knowing more about the other than they knew about each other.

Both were powerful in their own ways without realizing their potential.

“How can I make it up to you?” Gojo asked calmly, turning to look at you. His heart panged the most when he caught your frustrated gaze. He would do anything to make it right and couldn’t fathom why. There was no logical reason for it, spiritual or not. “Yuji is right. I should have made you stay in the first place.”

Yuji’s mouth hung open. It barely took any convincing. There was no playfulness in Gojo’s tone either; he was earnest, and there were no excuses. That was rare from Gojo, and it was the first hint that something else was going on between his sister and his teacher.

A rare, almost impossible, and unique bond that he and others wouldn’t be able to understand. And because of that, Yuji couldn't think of anything to say. All he could do was watch.

You noticed the shock on Yuji’s face, etched in his expression. “Why don’t you show me around the campus tomorrow?” You responded to the white-haired sorcerer, glancing between him and Yuji for their reactions.

“I know you want more than that,” Gojo laughed, elongating his words in a soothing tone.

“Take me out for some drinks then,” you dared. “See if you can outdrink me.”

He agreed almost instantly. “Prepared to lose?”

Yuji blinked, finally butting in. “What is happening?”

“Nothing!" You blurted, almost stumbling on your words before you caught yourself. “Gojo owes me some drinks tomorrow, and I will hold him to it.” You smiled at Yuji, so genuinely and so heartfeltly that Gojo started smiling in return.

“Alright then…” Yuji surveyed you and Gojo, still trying to configure if he was making more of the situation. But he knew he’d seen you too close to his teacher. And the smile on Gojo’s face… was astonishing. His careful gaze turned into a glare as he looked at Gojo. Even if he had just figured out you were his sister, he would protect you with everything he was. After all, you were the only family he had left. “Don’t hurt her.”

“I’ll keep her safe,” Gojo replied nonchalantly. “We will see you in the morning, yeah?”

The dismissal was taken with grace and understanding.

“Of course Sensi!” Yuji rushed with a bow, abruptly turning on his heels. “Goodnight Y/N!” he added.

“Goodnight Yuji.” You covered your mouth to stifle a laugh.

Silence stretched longer than necessary after Yuji had left the makeshift apartment. Neither of you could think about what to say after that conversation. A stern yet laughable scolding from your younger brother.

Once you were certain Yuji was out of earshot, you glanced at Gojo. “Thank you for protecting Yuji when I couldn’t.”

“Go crash in my bed,” he chuckled, accepting your praise with a bashful over-stretch of his arms. “I don’t go back on my word.”

“Are you sure?” You squeaked.

He nodded. “There’s a shirt and shorts on the bed for you already.”

Your cheeks felt hot at the insinuation that he already prepared for your company.

“I’ll buy you whatever you need tomorrow.” Gojo winked.

Beginning to walk to the bedroom, you stopped under the doorframe. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me!” He laughed, kicking his shoes off and sinking into the couch. “You’re the one that’s going to have a huge car insurance bill to pay.”

“I take it back!’ You rolled your eyes, acting as if you were going to slam the door behind you but letting it click shut quietly.

“Goodnight Y/N!” You heard his muffled voice before noticing the lights outside shut off.

Like he said, there was an outfit laid out for you. And your backpack was somehow leaning up against the bedframe. You tried to keep your eyes from scanning the rest of the bedroom, deciding it would be something to occupy your mind tomorrow. You had been through enough today, enough to understand that your life would never be the same.

Stripping down and throwing on the shirt, you quickly got comfortable and snuggled into the sheets, surprised at how much they resembled him and smelt like him. You didn't know Gojo; he was still a stranger, yet the unexplainable affirmed differently. How much longer could you deny it? The proof was right before you, and it was clear when you glimpsed him.

Gojo Saturo was someone special, and you wished you had more self-control. Maybe too much time had passed since you’d even had a crush, let alone given in to the urge for physical pleasure.

Much to your dismay, you fell asleep with a smile on your lips, wondering if Gojo was comfortable, what it would feel like to be in his arms, all the while speculating what tomorrow had in store for you.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader

205 notes · View notes

hanasnx · 9 months

Text

that girl

PART ONE ✩ PART TWO WORD COUNT: 0.9k WARNINGS: f!reader | suggestive | fake relationship | love triangle

Ever since you'd first started hanging around JJ MAYBANK the other Kooks of Figure Eight have voiced their concern. Every word and every insult has been thrown around to describe him so as to convince you not to "waste your time with him." The mouth of RAFE CAMERON is especially foul. "I'm jus' looking out for you, that's all." he'd insist, and he's shown his concern by towing you along with a harsh grip on your upper arm.

It's no secret that Rafe's interest in you is selfish. He's told you in many ways that you belong with someone from your side of the island, not a delinquent who'll end up just like his slum father. Of course, he hasn't explicitly specified who exactly you should have you eyes on in Figure Eight.

There's something about the way Ward pushes you together, as if you're good for Rafe. Not just Ward, but Sarah and Wheezie love you. They cling onto your arms and tell you about how they wish you were part of the family already, grossly misinterpreting your relationship with their brother. Sarah rolls her eyes at how Rafe talks when he's around you, how he's on edge and slightly more neurotic because he "likes you so much it's embarrassing." Playful and innocent, yet they put you at unease, teaching you to suspect Rafe's oncoming confession.

It's gotten to the point where you're afraid to be alone with him. That he'll confess his feelings for you, or respond poorly when you reject him. Actively avoiding him whenever you're in the same vicinity because the pressure is just too much. However, he's determined, and when he corners you inside at the Midsummer's, you run through a list of excuses at a record pace.

"... and I just think it's time we go out—"

You interrupt him with possibly the worst option on the wheel your brain had spun. "Rafe, I have a boyfriend." Blurting it out in a flinch, readying for his inevitable meltdown. He's not known for being stable. An indignant, knowing glint flashes in his eyes as he refocuses on you, taken aback at the prospect of you belonging to someone else.

"Well, who?"

You're reminded of the back of JJ's head when you'd spotted him sneaking in earlier. "C'mon, you should know already." In an attempt to be lighthearted, you push at his arm but he's immovable and unresponsive, glancing at your contact as if it's unwanted. Embarrassed, you drop your arm, and give him a shrug, "It's JJ." you say in a forced laugh. The silence is killing you as he processes your words, lips pressed into a thin line. Tentatively, you crawl across the wall, inching out of the space he caged you in. "I should... get back to him. Excuse me." your tone feathers out, and you escape, power-walking back to the outside where people are. You leave him staring at the wall with his knuckle to his mouth in thought.

You crane your neck, searching bobbing heads for the one of familiar blonde hair. Miraculously, you spot him on the dancefloor, rounding Sarah. Hiking up your dress, you hurry to his location, and usher him aside. "Sorry, Sarah, be right back." you assure her.

"Hey, easy, you'll get it crinkled." JJ scolds you, straightening out his waiter get-up indignantly. Without thinking, you hand claps over his mouth and he furrows his brows at you, scanning your figure.

"I don't have time to explain, but I need you to be my fake boyfriend—"

The crease in his brows deepen at the notion, minutely shaking his head under the pressure of your palm. "Uh-uh!"

"Please, JJ, I need your help—"

He smacks your hand off, "Are you kidding me?" he questions, too loud for comfort, and to evade making a scene you drag him further away while shushing him.

"You don't understand, just for a little bit!" you beg, clutching onto his clothes as he continuously pushes you off, intent to back up and away. You chase him.

"No, no way, princess. You know what the white knights of Figure Eight'll do to me if they find out a dick from the Cut is your sweetheart? I've got enough heat on me as is." If it were under different circumstances, maybe, but his friends have assured him the less attention on him the better. Not while they're in the middle of a treasure hunt, and less eyes means less competition. Certainly not something he can disclose with you, and you hound after him as he furthers from the centroid of the party. A door opens, and Rafe comes into your view. You jump into overdrive, diving onto JJ to pull him out of Rafe's peripheral. "The hell—?"

"That's Rafe, that's Rafe. God, please, JJ. If you just pretend you're my boyfriend in front of Rafe maybe he'll leave me alone?" You upturn your brows, begging him while his back is to the wall. Bewildered, he stares at you a second before looking around the corner. He licks his lips. The chance to get back at Rafe psychologically sounds pretty good right now, and the way you throw yourself at him ain't bad either. He locks eyes with you again, giving you a once-over in your pretty Midsummer dress. "Please?" you sigh. "JJ. Please?"

His nostrils flare when he sucks in a breath, pursing his lips. "Damnit. Damnit, alright. Enough with those eyes, are you kidding me? I'll do it."

You expel a breath in relief, tossing yourself at him to wind your arms around his neck. "Thank you! Thank you, thank you,"

"Alright, alright." He peels you off of him. "Don't get all happy with me, you've gotta remember I make the rules here."

You shouldn't have agreed to his rules so readily. Like an idiot, you had told him you're down for whatever it takes and he took that seriously. Now you're subjected to his every whim. A small part of you deems it's worth it, especially seeing Rafe's face after JJ made out with you and grabbed your ass for the first time in front of him.

314 notes · View notes

makoodles · 9 months

Note

I asked for the last magic rabbit fic, so I’ve gotta do it again: what’s happening for ghost during all this? Here he is, leaving to go run (partially out of habit but also so he doesn’t end up fucking you again when you’re so sore after your first time) and he’s trying to be normal and not obsess over you, or fuck you again when you aren’t ready or push any boundaries but then you disappear? And then flirt with some wanker at the bar when he fucked you brainless not even a week before? Only to find out that you thought you were being rejected by him over and over this week :(((( his heart maybe cold but it damn near broke at that. Ya hash it out, and then he finally has your cunt back in his life, and it’s so wet and he knows she missed him, but before he dive in fully (and make you soak his mask so he walks around all week with the smell of you stuck to him) you want to try something??? Oh fuck you’ve been practicing sucking dick on your toys?? Fuck he’s gonna come from the mental image of that. And then yoh suck him off, and you don’t think it’s very good (and maybe it’s not) but it’s you so it’s the best damn head he’s ever gotten and then you say you want him to come on your face??? He almost did with just those words. He has to promise both of you that he’ll do it next time, otherwise he’d never forgive himself. And then he finally gets to dive into the sweetest cunt in the world and it feels like coming home, he’d gladly live off just your cum if he could. Has to really stop himself from bringing you over the edge at least two more times with just his mouth. And then he finally slides into her and it’s perfect and he’s never letting you avoid him ever again. And then you moan his name???? He can’t control himself in these conditions. You wanna be on top???? He went brain dead for a second. And then when you got him all in, he’s gone feral with possessive thoughts, needing you to know you belong with him. “Am I doing good?” Are you trying to kill him via his dick??? And when all is said and done you ask if y’all are dating now??? As if Ghost hasn’t already decided that you (and your pussy) are it for him???

BABE YOU GET ITTTT!!!

i'm a firm believer that simon riley is an absolute disaster of a man, you'd just never know it because he hides it all behind that mask and quiet arrogance.

besides, like he told you already, he's not good with virgins. he meant that in a very literal sense - it's not that he's not good with them sexually (he's already proven that he is in fact good in that sense), but he is hopeless when it comes to communicating with you. he was hoping that you would be better with it, but you have no experience either so of course it's going to lead to confusion!

but yes absolutely, most of this fic from simon's pov would just be excited mental screaming. you just know that his ego is SWELLING despite the way he is constantly near a heart attack with every word you say and moan you make

#asks #i hear you like magic #cod headcanons

157 notes · View notes

peekawoocc · 5 months

Text

LAW X READER

P.s. ok, so I wrote this within the span of a day, so if there's any mistakes, I apologize. As I mentioned in the first part, this loosely goes along with the actual chronological events of the Wano season of One Piece. If I missed any important details, I'm sorry. I'll probably do one or two more parts. The last part will probably take a while because I'm still watching Wano.

CW: Smut, Oral sex (reader recieving), yes we get cockblocked yet again my dudes.

Cockblocked in Wano Pt.3

You followed after Law once he walked out due to his fight with Shinobu. You knew he and his crew never ratted the Samurai out. To be completely honest, you were just as mad as Law, which seemed impossible considered the sour look he had.

How could Shinobu have accused the Heart Pirates of such betrayal? How could she say anything bad about them when they had Bepo? You would've killed for Bepo. He was a whole reason on his own for why you could no longer stand there and listen to her accusations.

As you were lost in your thoughts, you were suddenly brought back to real time as you accidentally walked into Law's back. Somehow you were at the Polar Tang.

"If you'd rather go back and be with your crew, I completely understand," Law said carefully.

"Oh, i-its fine. I don't think I could handle being near Shinobu anyway, not after that. Now's not the time to be pointing fingers,"

"I completely agree y/n. I'm not stranger to being accused of being the bad guy, I'm a pirate after all. Oh well," Law said with a hint of appreciation in his voice. He could tell you were on his side. Always loyal and kind.

You followed Law as he entered the submarine. It was quiet. Perhaps too quiet. But how could you possibly know? This was your first time in the Heart Pirates home base.

Law walked towards one door way and then turned to look at you.

"Stay here for a moment,"

"Okay,"

Law looked around the shared quarters belonging to his crew. He saw a few faces and noticed they were all sleeping. No hints of danger.

Law exhaled a sigh of relief as he turned back to fetch you.

"It seems everyone's getting some rest, follow me,".

And you did just that.

Not sure where he was leading you, you felt yourself get nervous with anticipation. You knew you could trust him, that's not what worried you. What worried you was the idea of being completely alone with Law. No interruptions. No more having to worry about being walked in on like this morning. However, you two had already gotten into some fun once already. Maybe it could happen again. Your heart fluttered at the thought.

"These are my quarters,"

"O-oh?"

"Maybe we should try to get some rest too. I wasn't expecting to be woken up so suddenly this morning,'

"Yeah, sorry about that,"

"No need to apologize. Hell, I should be thanking you if anything,"

"What, why?"

"I can't tell you the last time I slept for hours like that without waking up 3-4 times from nightmares. It was strange, but it was really nice. And I think its because of you,".

He opened the door to his bedroom, smiling as he did. You felt yourself blush at his kind words.

You took a good look around his room. It was well kept and clean. There was a desk next to a bookcase in one corner, filled to the brim with folders, books, and various documents. Everything from medical books to comics. On the opposite side of his room was a bed. You were surprised to see how big it was. You were expecting something smaller due to Laws lanky, skinny figure, but it made sense. His legs are so long and he must toss and turn a lot if he has trouble sleeping, must need room to sprawl out.

"Mind helping me sleep again?" Law asked without looking at you, he was blushing slightly.

"Sure!"

You felt yourself flush slightly, you felt like you sounded too eager to cuddle with the black cat-like man.

But he didn't acknowledge it. He put Kikoku against the wall and his hat on his desk before making his way to the bed. He watched you make your way towards him and generously held the blanket up for you to snuggle next to him. You prompted yourself up slightly as you laid down, pushing Laws shoulders down and pulling him in front of you.

Before he could ask what you were doing, you answered his thoughts.

"Lay your head on my chest,".

This caused Law to glance down at your breasts as he gulped audibly. How cute, you thought, as you saw him get flustered. As you watched his expression, you felt some boldness due to the sight of how weak your body made him. You giggled and before he could look back up to your eyes, you grabbed the back of his scalp and pushed his face down into your breasts. You heard him gasp into your chest and began giggling more.

As you did, not paying much attention to the man suffocating into you, Law slowly lifted his gaze to your face as he gently bit your displayed cleavage.

"Ouch, what was that for?" you asked, giggling calming down.

"Clearly you're not tired enough for a nap, maybe I should help tire you out," he smirked, and dove back down to suck on your exposed skin. Your giggling was replaced by sucking in your breath as you felt his lips on you. Law began trailing down to your right nipple, dragging his tounge towards it as he pulled your his kimono to the side, opening your body to him more.

He gently sucked on your nipple, and brought his right hand over your unattended tit.

You let out a shaky low moan. Not even loud enough to be considered a whisper.

"L-Law? W-what are you aah~, d-doing?"

He let out a low chuckle, almost growling as he spoke.

"Following through on my promise, I meant what I said,".

He winked at you before diving back down on you, slowly kissing his way lower and lower until he was completely covered by the blanket. Conventially, your legs were already spread for him to hold his body in between. He stopped his trail of kisses and pressed his open mouth to your left hip, sucking in your flesh in between his teeth as he bites you. The bite is gentle at first, but it becomes stronger, earning him a gasp from you. He chuckles again as he makes his way lower. Slowly he places wet open mouth kisses on your inner thighs.

"L-Law!" you whimper, desperately needing to feel him on your core.

He began biting at your thighs, but suddenly stopped.

"Law?" you asked, curious as to why he pulled away.

Suddenly the blanket was gone, and Law had a hungry, devilish smirk on his face.

"I want you to watch me turn you into a mess," he spoke calmly.

Before you could respond, he started devouring you. Pulling moans out of you as your head falls back.

He started sucking lightly on your clit, just enough to make you crave more of him. As you bucked your hips to encourage him, he didnt seem to get the memo.

Letting out a groan of frustration for not getting what you wanted, you looked down at the hungry man between your thighs. You were met with a gaze that seemed to have already been staring at you.

Law smirked. "Bout time you looked at me. Watch me and I'll give you what you need," he said as he began to pick up the pace.

It was exactly the kind of pace and pressure you needed. You started to feel the coil in you getting closer and closer to snapping. Then he added 2 of his beautiful fingers into your entrance making his way to your sweet spot as he lapped and sucked on your clit. It didn't take much after that to make your vision go white as you rode out your orgasm.

After you came back down to reality, you panted as you looked back down at Law. He was licking his fingers, swallowing down your essence. If he didn't give off black cat energy before, he definitely resembled the actual thing with how he licked his hand. It was cute.

"Thank you, that felt amazing,"

"Too soon to thank me, sweetness. I've got more in store for you,"

"Oh really~. Like what, exactly?"

Law slowly started crawling over you, hovering above you.

"I was thinking about fucking you until you went dumb on my dick-"

*Bang Bang Bang*

"CAPTAIN!? IS THAT YOU!? ARE YOU BACK!?" a female voice called from behind the locked door.

Not again. What happened this time?

"Dammit," Law sighed, he sounded desperate as he pressed his forehead against yours and closed his eyes.

He lifted his head back, raising an eyebrow.

"Do I have time to-...get prepared?"

"CAPTAIN WHAT DO YOU MEAN!? THIS IS URGENT! SHACHI, PENGUIN, AND BEPO WERE CAPTURED!"

"Why can't anyone stay out of trouble," he began. Though his words sounded harsh, you could hear the sloght tremble of worry they carried.

"Coming!" he yelled at the voice behind the door.

You heard some footsteps shuffle away from the door.

"Not in the way I'd like to...," Law sighed with furrowed brows. All you could do was giggle.

"Come on, we need to go find your crewmates,"

"Not we, I got it. It's not your responsibility. Oh, and two more things-"

"What?" you couldn't help sounding slightly dissapointed to be away from him.

Sensing your disapproving tone, he hoped that what he was about to say would make you cheer up.

"-First thing, don't tell the Straw Hats about my crew being captured. I'm going to get them back,".

You understood why he didn't want Luffy to know. You knew Luffy would cause more trouble breaking down walls to help Law rescue his crew.

"Ok, what's the second thing you wanted to say?"

"When I get back, I'm going to fuck you so good, you'll want to join my crew instead," he smirked at you. You went completely red. You were so hot and bothered it looked like steam was blowing out of your ears.

Law giggled and got up to reposition his kimono. He started making his way to the door, then he looked back at you fondly.

"Wait for me, sweetness,"

"I-i will,"

And with that, his mission began.

#one piece #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #fanfic

88 notes · View notes