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fatuismooches · 9 months

Note

Could you please write about the Harbingers spending time with the reader on their birthdays? But maybe they send what they did with you as a letter to the Traveler like the in-game feature? :D

♡ 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬' 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ♡

synopsis: The Traveler naturally expects mail in their inbox whenever the Harbingers' birthdays roll around. However, they didn't expect it to be so... lovey-dovey, and all about you.

includes: all harbingers w/ gn! reader

notes: I've finally finished it! I've been wanting to write something similar to my voice line post for a while, so here it is - the Harbingers sending birthday mail, except they're very down bad for you :3 Includes a letter, a photograph, and attached items with the letter! (Sorry to the Pulcinella fans, I was too lazy to write him in.)

“Home…”

Sender: Pierro

It is my birthday today. Normally, I would have continued on my day as usual, but [Name] had another idea in mind, going so far as to get the Tsaritsa herself to block the door to my office and then dragging me away. It seems they were planning this for a while… The last birthday I celebrated was the year Khaenri’ah fell. What purpose did today serve when my homeland and people were gone? As the years went on, it began to slip my mind and I nearly would have forgotten the date, were it not for [Name]’s question a while ago. I thought nothing of it, but I did not think [Name] would have taken this so seriously.

They knew I would enjoy anything so long as it was with them, yet they had the entire day planned out. Claiming that I needed some fresh air, we walked through the Snezhnayan streets, the normally biting frost a bit warmer than usual. Casual browsing at some new stores that opened up. [Name]’s attempt at starting a snowball fight. And lastly… grocery shopping.

When we got back, they wouldn’t let me help or look. But I could tell from the smell exactly what they were making. It turns out that they managed to make a dish from my home country. I am not sure how they managed to get a hold of this recipe… I must have mentioned it offhandedly and they improvised from there. Of course, it’s not an exact replica, but nonetheless, it tasted delicious. Just for a few minutes, I was taken back to my previous home. That home will never come back, but I have a new one now.

And now the day is almost over. Despite their best efforts to stay awake until the end of the day, they succumbed to their sleepiness, now lying on my lap. They were supposed to read me something they made, but perhaps I’ll find out what that was tomorrow.

Tomorrow will be back to normal again. But that is alright. I still do not believe I deserve a day like today but, if this is what [Name] desires, then I shall not refuse them again. I’ll look forward to the next birthday just as they do.

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Pierro and you in it. The Harbinger is seated at a table with a homemade dish in front of him. His giant coat and mask are placed off to the side, revealing scars from long ago. You’re glued to his side, trying to feed him by holding the spoon close to his mouth. Pierro is a grown man, the Traveler thinks, he does not need you to feed him… However, he looks quite content with this arrangement so the blonde won’t question it any further. In fact, he looks as if he’s right at home.

Attached Items:

Ancient Khaenri’ahn Dish [A meal unique to Khaneri’ah that has long been forgotten by the world. Although you clearly struggled to make it due to a lack of experience, even the Traveler can taste how much of your love was put into it.]

Khaenri’ahn Story Book [A book that contains numerous fairy tales and various stories originating from the lost nation, written by none other than Pierro himself, and illustrated by you. Apparently, it was born from you begging him to tell you stories from his home, and eventually, the Harbinger began to write them down so you could read them instead of bothering him so often. However, it made the problem worse as now you bother him to read them to you. How sweet.]

—

“A Day Off.”

Sender: Dottore

[Name] has convinced me to go back to Sumeru with them for a couple of days. I couldn’t care less about this day, but they were adamant about spending the whole day with me, and that they “will not be spending my birthday in a dark gloomy lab again.”

My research has regrettably halted for a bit, but I suppose this was not a bad idea. This was the first time in many years that either of us had stepped foot back into Sumeru - we had not been back since I was expelled from the Akademiya, besides my segments of course.

[Name] and I trekked the same path we used to walk during our studies at the Akademiya. It was a good spot for studying and conducting experiments without any disturbances - that was until they started following me around. They were a nuisance at first… but eventually, [Name] began to help me deconstruct a variety of machines, which was helpful. And then would laugh at me whenever I ended up breaking them.

Ever since I met them, [Name] has always said a lot of strange things, but their most recent comment was that they wanted to drink the blue liquid in the vial I carry around. They think it looks… tropical and vibrant. Of course, I refused them. But I had a feeling that if I didn’t provide them with it, they’d try and get it themselves. I was not interested in having to inject an antidote into them, so I came up with a solution.

I know that I am no chef, but this goes outside the realm of cooking. It wasn’t hard to create a sweet drink that would be to [Name]’s liking with the same color. They were more pleased than I thought and demanded that I make it for them more often. I do not care much for nourishment, but perhaps I’ll try my hand at it more often. They have insisted that I send you some, too. So, Traveler, is it to your liking as well? Even if it’s not, I do not care, so don’t bother telling me.

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Dottore and you in it. Despite how much the Traveler has explored Sumeru, they can’t seem to pinpoint the location where it was taken. It must really be a secret place, just for the two of you. Dottore’s mask is on his lap, revealing crimson eyes and scarred skin. You seem to have fallen asleep on his shoulder, as your eyes are closed, though your mouth seems to be agape, perhaps mumbling some nonsense in your sleep. Dottore’s expression is exasperated, but there is a certain fondness in his eyes, one that the Traveler can’t distinguish, or rather, they refuse to believe it. Did the Kamera have an editing function now? Because surely, the photograph must have been forged or something, because there was no way The Doctor could ever have such a tender look in his eyes…

Attached Items:

Strange Blue Concoction [Some kind of legitimate drink that’s the same color as the vial Dottore carries around. According to [Name], it is quite delicious, but would any sane person dare to try anything from The Doctor of all people…? Who knows, these two might be trying to poison the blonde.]

Assortment of Ruin Guard Parts [Parts from Ruin Guards Dottore created and assembled himself. A wide variety of parts are here, including Chaos Cores, Circuits, and Devices. Wait… they seem to all be damaged and broken. Hey, did Dottore just send the Traveler his useless parts?!]

—

“Care For A Show?”

Sender: Columbina

Hello dear Traveler! How are you?~ Today has been such a wonderful day. Why, you ask? Because it’s my birthday of course! ♪ The one day when I have the ability to drag my beloved [Name] wherever I want, with no resistance. Normally they protest for quite a bit, telling me I have a mountain of work to do but, they don’t need to worry their pretty little head about that. ♫ Is it that much of a crime to slack off to spend time with one’s beloved? But oh, that little routine of ours is something that I do cherish.

My dearest [Name] took me to a play. We were among the first to see it, as it was the opening day. You know, they always tell me that as a Harbinger, I should be more conscious of how I present myself. But is it really a problem to sit in their lap instead of my chair? It’s not like anyone can see us all the way up on the balcony seats, hmm? ♬ Moving on though~ The play was quite an interesting story.

It was of an angel who fell in love with a mere human, despite how taboo it was. When the two were caught, the angel had to decide - would she rather retain their purity and remain in the heavens or fall down, stripped of her divinity to be with her human? Well, if you want to see the ending, you’ll just have to come to Snezhnaya and watch it yourself. ♪ But do tell me Traveler, if you were in a situation like that, what would you choose? … I already know what my choice would be.

Ah, but that show was not even the best part! After that, [Name] put on their own performance for me, just the two of us. It was beautiful of course, the way they convey their choice of art is always worthy of praise. But, they always seem to seek my feedback and criticism… they told me they want to keep improving to make me even more pleased but, how many times do I need to explain to them that I already believe their craft is beautiful? Nevertheless, I do indulge them, if only to satisfy my love. Why don’t you take a look at one of our collaborations, Traveler? It is quite good if I do say so myself. ♫

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Columbina and you in it. The lighting in the theater is a bit dim, so your figures are a bit faded but, the Traveler can still make out the two of you. The two of you have separate chairs but, Columbina is practically spilling onto yours, her head comfortably resting against your chest. You seem as though this is normal for you, which it probably is. Wait, is Columbina sleeping? It seems she probably got bored during the intermission… That’s why you specifically chose your clothes to double as a blanket for your wife.

Attached Items:

Music Score [A music score composed by both you and Columbina. The two of you performed it perfectly together as a present to your wife. Of course, it’s bound to be mesmerizing considering Columbina’s participation. So hauntingly beautiful, that in fact, it might end your life before you get to the end… is that an exaggeration? Well, it seems like the Traveler will have to take that risk.]

Pair of Tickets [Tickets gifted to the Traveler and Paimon. There’s no name on it or any expiration date, so it can be used to watch a single play in Snezhnaya for free, with the best seats in-house, so pick carefully. These things are quite expensive, so don’t go losing them now! Otherwise, Columbina and [Name] might ban the traveling duo from the theater…]

—

“An Excellent Day.”

Sender: Capitano

Today is my birthday. However, I have never been very adept at celebrating this day. I realize that it is the norm to celebrate one’s birthday, but I have never felt the need to. Though, ever since I became a Harbinger, my recruits have always wished me well today. Unfortunately, when the bolder ones ask me what I have planned, I have nothing interesting to respond with, always prompting them to urge me to do something… In the hallways, I always hear conversations along the lines of even though being a Harbinger is busy, I deserve to do something nice on my birthday. But in reality, it does not bother me at all. Is it really that strange not to do anything on one’s birthday?

When [Name] found out how I normally spend my birthdays, they shared a similar sentiment and promised to make this one “the most eventful and fun and best one I’ve ever had.” They said that since this is our first year together, they need to make my birthday an excellent one. Although I tried to reassure them they needn’t try so hard for me, they were insistent. However, true to their word, I would say my birthday did end up being an excellent one.

One thing about [Name] is they never fail to teach me something new. In this case, they taught me what it means to celebrate a birthday, and I’d say I learned a lot. As stated by them, there is no exact or definite way to celebrate. It is what you make of it. And they, knowing the kind of man I was, chose the activities accordingly. (There were a few mishaps but everything went well for the most part. It is not customary to break a few knives while cutting cake, so I feared that I may have ruined things, but [Name] reassured me it was normal.)

So all in all, today was an excellent day. However, I am faced with a problem now. What should I do when [Name]’s birthday comes? Should I do the same thing they did for me? But would they think that is low effort and unoriginal? I do not wish to disappoint them. Traveler, do you have any ideas? Also, please ask Tartaglia for me as well. The last time I spoke to him, he tried to ask me for a duel.

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Capitano and you in it. The snowy forest terrain looks as picturesque as ever, but what really draws attention is the man and his lover in the middle. Mostly, the Harbinger who has a squirrel or two perched on him, not to mention the few birds that made their nest in the fluff of his coat. And even some cats? Where did they come from?! Well, it’s best not to question it. It’s rather endearing. Rather, one should question how silent and unmoving the Captain is in an effort to not disturb all the animals. Just ignore the deer in the background waiting for some attention too.

Attached Items:

How To Celebrate Your Birthday Pamphlet [A collaboration between Capitano’s Fan Club and [Name]. The fan club loves you immensely because you help to put their long-awaited plans into action. The numerous activities in this guide (blowing out the candles, feeding each other cake, gift giving, lots of affection, etc) were written out by the club and dutifully carried out by you. There were also birthday punches, but Capitano was confused as to why you were tickling him.]

Capitano and [Name]’s Picture Book [Don’t tell anyone this, but Capitano has a tendency to name all the creatures of the forest near his mansion. At first, he went there to train, but decided against it after seeing all the animals around there, because he doesn’t want to scare them away. What he did not expect was to befriend all of them… you came across him one day talking to them after searching for him. How can he tell them apart? Even you don’t know. But this book is dedicated to all of his animal friends, with pictures taken by you of course. So if the Traveler happens to visit Snezhnaya someday, make sure to be nice to these little guys!]

—

“They’re Annoying…”

Sender: Wanderer

It is that time of year again when my birthday rolls around. You know very well I do not care much for this day, but once again, there are always annoyances at my every turn… Both Lesser Lord Kusanali and [Name] always prove to be a thorn in my side on this day. In the past, I usually spent my birthdays under the sakura trees in Inazuma, visiting [Name]. But, things have changed now. I no longer am who I once was, and my relationship with [Name] is no longer the same. They have forgotten me, and our past together… but Lesser Lord Kusanali has forced us to interact again numerous times, leading to our current relationship. Lesser Lord Kusanali always pats my back, saying that time will lead us back to each other… how irritating.

Speaking of her being irritating, she decided to tell [Name] that today was my birthday, a horrible decision. Now, they’ve run all over Sumeru looking for me, until they finally found me in the House of Daena. Panting and gasping for air, all I could hear was them sincerely apologizing over and over for not knowing my birthday. They promised they’d get me a late birthday gift, even though I kept repeating that it was unnecessary. Unfortunately, it has always been hard to get things through their thick skull. All I know for sure is that Lesser Lord Kusanali definitely planned this and that she will tease me to no end the next time I see her…

Still, they dragged me through Sumeru City. According to them, they knew I wouldn’t like anything too fancy, so they brought me to an alleyway. Your typical textbook dark and narrow one. And at the end were… cats. Many of them. [Name] turned to me with a smile and said they bet I didn’t know about this secret kitty haven, and that it was a perfect gift for someone like me. I do wonder if Sumeru’s sun has made them crazy sometimes.

But, this birthday wasn’t as boring as I thought it’d be. So… that’s nice, I guess. Actually, Lesser Lord Kusanali had assigned me a paper to write. A paper on [Name], on my own birthday. She said that she wasn’t going to read or check it, but it was for my sake. How preposterous, right? How would anything like that help me?

But tonight… I feel as though I’ll make some progress on it.

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Wanderer and you in it. The puppet is at the top of the ladder in the House of Daena, searching for books (most likely forced to by the Dendro Archon), but your figure can be made out at the bottom. You seem to be waving and beckoning him to come down, so he can have a good time with you for his birthday. Wanderer doesn’t seem very excited about it, but… he will always indulge you, the person he can’t deny he loves. Hmm? Why is he using a ladder instead of his Anemo powers? Well, perhaps the puppet doesn’t like drawing attention to himself.

Attached Items:

Essay Concerning Inazuman Society and Politics [An essay Wanderer has written during his time spent in Vahumana. What, did the Traveler really think he’d send the essay he wrote about [Name]? However, Paimon couldn’t make it through the title page, and even the Traveler struggled through it. But, it seems to be your favorite essay of his, considering all the notes you made in it, not to mention the noodles you drew when you got bored… Wanderer probably scolded you for that but, it’s never in bad faith.]

Tricolor Dango [A plate of dango that [Name] brought for Wanderer as a treat. It seems that they are unaware of his dislike of sweet food… But the puppet did not want to hurt their feelings considering the thought and effort they put into his birthday, so he did not decline it.]

—

“A Lavish Tea Party.”

Sender: Sandrone

Unbeknownst to me, [Name] recently had a variety of sweets from Fontaine imported. It seemed like they tinkered with my bots once again, to get them on their side so I would remain in the dark… they can be such a hassle to deal with sometimes. However, this means that their skills are ever improving, as I’ve been improving my Automatons to be much more complex. As expected of my assistant. Speaking of, they’ve also imported some other things that I’ve been wanting for a while. Hopefully, they’re up to standard this time, or they’ll have to be returned. Ugh, I hate dealing with the Ninth whenever that happens…

Though back to the subject, it seems that [Name] has once again needlessly gone out of their way, since today is my date of birth. Although I don’t like being distracted from my research, and I see no need to waste time just because I happened to be born today, this break that [Name] has prepared for me isn’t too bad. I have not attended a proper tea party in far too long. The fools I have for agents can never set it up correctly.

[Name] is not someone who dresses up very often, but they always make the effort to match their attire with mine. Something that other people should learn from, but alas. Though, I wish they did it more often. Not even the most well-crafted doll could match their beauty. Have I told them that? No, they should be smart enough to figure that out by themselves.

Regardless, I must cut this letter short. After this, I want to work on an Automaton with [Name]. I have held off on it because they have expressed interest in it, and since we are together now, it is the perfect time to work on it. I was expecting them to get huffy at me working today, but it seems that they are pleased to work with me. I wonder why.

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Sandrone and you in it. A wide array of treats and sweets are plated on numerous platters, along with ceramic tea cups waiting to be filled with piping hot tea. The surrounding robots are also fashioned in a similar style as her, perfect attire for the tea party, holding additional trays of desserts. (Can these robots eat too?) You’re pouring your wife her favorite kind of tea as you’ve already set her plate, while she sits patiently with her hands folded. Despite Sandrone’s doll-like features, one can see a small smile on her face.

Attached Items:

Instructions For A Perfect Tea Party [Sandrone’s set of instructions as to how a perfect tea party is conducted. Some of the rules seem nonsensical and impossible to many, which is why no Fatui agent can ever live up to the Harbinger’s expectations, as she will not accept anything less than what she desires. However, you are the only person who has managed to fulfill all the rules to a tee, which is one of the reasons she greatly favors you. Sending this list to the Traveler and Paimon is also her way of saying they are never invited as they will never be able to fulfill the rules in a way that satisfies her… how rude!]

Clockwork Toy of Sandrone [A Harbinger toy from Leschots Clockwork Workshop in Fontaine. They seem to have dabbled in making toys of the Harbingers as they said they would, and who better to start with than the machinery genius herself? Of course, Sandrone can point out numerous flaws with the design and components, and probably criticized it heavily to you, but you still seem to love it, because it’s of her! Unfortunately, your wife doesn’t like that very much… why settle for something inferior when you could have it in much higher quality? So the Harbinger decided to make a toy of herself that lives up to her standard. The Traveler can have the faulty one…]

—

“Another Year Passes…”

Sender: La Signora

In the past, I used to be quite fond of birthdays. In Mondstadt, I would always celebrate it with him every year. But after he died, birthdays left a bitter taste in my mouth, and I never dared think about doing anything on this day ever again. How could I, when he was no longer by my side? But today is my birthday again, and I find myself happy. Why? Because of [Name], the person who taught me how to love again. Admittedly, I pushed away the idea at first. But after some more reflection, I decided it wouldn’t be fair to [Name]. The past is the past, and the present is the present. If [Name] wants to make me feel special on my birthday, then who am I to stop them?

And indeed they did pamper me. They always pamper me but, today it was much more than normal. Breakfast in bed, massages, hair brushing, helping me put on my clothes, opening doors for me, fancy dinner and wine after work. I don’t think there was a single moment where they weren’t trying to do something for me. It gave me a good chuckle, which made them embarrassed. But truly, it made me happy. I had… forgotten what it feels like to be cared for on my birthday. It’s a foreign feeling but, I hope that the foreignness eventually goes away after some time.

However, I must tell them that there’s no need to overexert themselves just because it is my birthday. Although I do enjoy the extra treatment, it does neither of us any good for them to fall asleep before the night is even over. But, that’s okay. There is always next year, yes?

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Signora and you in it. You are fast asleep on the Fair Lady’s lap, a peaceful expression on your face. A similar one is on Signora’s, as there is no one else around, and she can let her guard down around you. There are a few of her flame moths scattered around the room as well, a few on the two of you. As her blonde hair spills onto your face and body, one can only guess what she is thinking.

Attached Items:

Tea Break Pancakes [Despite Signora’s history with her home nation, it’s said that she still enjoys the cuisine from there. So, you like to cook her food from there whenever you can. It might not be as good as a professional’s but it provides her a taste of home. A taste of your love, which is her favorite flavor.]

Rose [It’s no secret that roses are Signora’s favorite flower. Beautiful yet thorny, alluring yet dangerous. There are many kinds of roses with all sorts of meanings in this world, but you two have been seen exchanging only one kind - a red one. Whatever could it mean?]

—

“Birthdays…”

Sender: Pantalone

When I was a child, birthdays did not mean much to me. After all, how could one focus on their date of birth when it seemed like life was full of nothing but curses and suffering? It was only another day of working to survive. But when I met [Name], they changed that. With them, the day began to have… meaning. Purpose. It wasn’t anything grand, but they made it special, distracting me from another day of poverty. Even with their meager earnings, they never failed to gift me something, even if it was of little to no value, or not the best quality… I cherished it. No one else had ever thought of me so much. When I look back, every time my birthday came around again, my love for them only grew more.

Now that we are adults, my only wish is to repay their kindness and spoil them with as many gifts as they deserve. However, there are a few issues with this. There are times I find myself more disappointed with the world than usual because it has yet to create something that would be a suitable gift that would be on par with my love for my dear [Name]. However, whenever my spouse gifts me something, their thoughtfulness never ceases to amaze me. How is it that they always manage to gift me something wonderful and touching? When I questioned them about this, they raised an eyebrow and gave me a strange look. It seems that I will not learn their secret anytime soon. How unfortunate.

Not to mention, dearest [Name] gets upset when I spend “ludicrous amounts of money” (their words) on them, especially on my birthday, so they’ve “forbidden” me from doing so today. They are rather persistent on this, and their long lectures and expressions are rather amusing, so I’ll indulge them… for now. Do you think they realize I’ll just spend double the amount the next day? Regardless, birthdays are always well spent with [Name], and I plan to enjoy this one fully, just as I have in the past because they are the one who makes my birthday a day worth celebrating.

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Pantalone and you in it. The two of you are taking a walk in Snezhnaya, browsing stores and the like. Even though it is Pantalone’s birthday, he seems insistent on trying to buy out a few stores for you once again… so in order to prevent him from doing that, you’ve hidden yourself in his coat, stopping him from walking properly. The Harbinger seems rather entertained by your antics and your head popping out of his coat… he should make you do this more often. It’s perfect for head pats.

Attached Items:

Pantalone’s Spare Change [As it is his birthday, Pantalone is feeling more generous than usual, so he is sending a bit of funds to the Traveler. There is no need for any repayment, take it as a symbol of the Fatui’s goodwill. (However, it would do good to proceed with caution… this is the Ninth, after all.) Opening it up, the duo expects to see an average amount of money, but instead are presented with a couple of million Mora… if this is what Pantalone is willing to send to the Traveler, how much does he spend on [Name]?! Paimon doesn’t want to imagine the number!]

[Name]’s Guide to Gift Giving [A piece written by you to detail how you always choose the best gift for Pantalone, unbeknownst to your husband. Opening it up, the Traveler is very curious as to how you manage to win over the Harbinger every time, a man who has everything he could possibly want at his fingertips. But instead, only one sentence is written on the paper - “I don’t know how I do it either.”]

—

“Appreciation.”

Sender: Arlecchino

Birthdays were not very much celebrated in the House of Hearth, especially when the former Knave was around. However, that changed when [Name] came along. Years ago, I still remember when they gifted Lynette her first tea cup set. Freminet, a collection of spare parts that he ended up using to make another clockwork toy. And probably the biggest hassle… gifting little Lyney a white rabbit. However, I do appreciate my lover’s efforts. The children always look forward to their birthdays much more now, some even going as far as to drop hints about their desired gift and give puppy eyes to [Name] when the time rolls around. I have to remind my children not to get greedy, and to be grateful for what they already have…

I also remember the first birthday they gifted me something as well. A part of me expected it, considering the way they behaved, but still, it was an… unfamiliar feeling, to be gifted something. And, it was also the day little Lyney and Lynette presented their first amateur magic show to me. Of course, they had much to improve on, but looking back it was a suitable birthday gift, considering how much I’ve seen the two grow now. Needless to say, I appreciate [Name] very much, for what they have given me and my children.

My birthday has come once more, and [Name] is celebrating it as they always feel the need to. Really, even if they did nothing, I would still appreciate it, considering all they’ve done. The sweets they gathered this time were exceptional, and we had a lovely chat, before taking a walk through Fontaine. They say that the flowers that grow in the wild are always the prettiest, especially the Rainbow Roses.

Ah, last of all, if you could do me a favor, that would be greatly appreciated. You have been in Fontaine for a while now, yes? It would be a great help to me if you could point me to some good operas. [Name] and I have watched many in Snezhnaya, however, we don’t often have the chance to watch any in Fontaine, with our work and all. Thank you. And please, do not bore me or waste my time.

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Arlecchino and you in it. You two are sitting in a field in Fontaine somewhere, with Rainbow Roses to the side. One of them has been tucked into the Harbinger’s hair, while you seem to be focusing on creating… a flower crown? Despite the pinkness of the rose greatly contrasting with Arlecchino’s whole dark red, black, and white look, she seems to not mind your antics and waits patiently for you to complete your work of art. Of course, as a Fontainian, she knows very well what Rainbow Roses symbolize, and won’t turn down the physical manifestation of your feelings.

Attached Items:

List of Yummy Hidden Gems [A list of great places to buy sweets from in Fontaine, courtesy of [Name], passed on by Arlecchino. Sure, Hotel Debord and Café Lutece do have some excellent sweets, but there are many hidden restaurants and bakeries that provide delicious treats as well! Do stop by and give them a try. Arlecchino favors many of their products. If one needs a similar list for the other nations, do tell.]

Slice of Birthday Cake [An exquisite slice of cake cut from Arlecchino’s birthday cake. She doesn’t care much for the tradition, but [Name] always buys one anyway as an excuse to treat the children from the House to something nice. You know you shouldn’t spoil them so much, but you can’t help it!]

—

“Splash!”

Sender: Tartaglia

Hey comrade! How have you been? Sorry if my handwriting isn’t the best. I sparred with [Name] for my birthday, and they really roughed me up. Not that I mind, I asked them to go all out. Normally they don’t like fighting with me, because they always insist they don’t like hurting me, but they couldn’t say no to me today. You know, I would like to see the two of you fight. It would be an exhilarating experience.

But anyway, after they patched me up, we took a dive in Fontaine’s waters! You know, whenever I visit Liyue, we often go to cool off in Yaoguang Shoal, but Fontaine’s oceans are so much different. The scenery, the terrain, the greenery, the wildlife… good thing I bought them a waterproof Kamera. Speaking of wildlife, [Name] and I befriended a blubberbeast. [Name] instantly fell in love with the creature, and I feel as though they gave a bit too much attention to it, but, seeing them smile is the best gift I could ever ask for. Maybe I should gift them a plushie of it? However, it is a bit amusing that something that looks as defenseless as that could pack such a punch!

Did you know this, Traveler? Apparently, Romaritime Flowers represent loyalty. [Name] gifted me a bouquet which I was initially confused about since I usually give them flowers instead. But after some quick research, these flowers mean unbreaking oaths. It was a bit ironic really, for I should have gifted them instead as I always swore to be loyal to them, my family, and the Tsaritsa, but it was a wonderful gift. Not to mention the delicious meal they prepared. They’ve been busy researching the best Fontaine recipes for me, so I could make them for Teucer and the others back home, but maybe I should just drag them to Snezhnaya so they could do it instead… I never leave anything but empty plates whenever [Name] cooks for me, but they’ve packaged some for you too, Traveler!

Next time we fight at the Golden House, I’ll bring [Name] along too. Do you think you can hold your own against both of us at the same time?

Attached Photograph:

A picture is included with the letter that has Childe and you in it. You two are under the sea, with a Blubberbeast between the two of you. The creature is nudging you while Childe looks on amused. It seems that it’s been begging for some more attention, food, and head pats. Maybe some tummy rubs too. Apparently, you named it Big Cutie, because well… it’s a big cutie! Unfortunately, it seems to have a little bit of a grudge against the Harbinger because he accidentally attacked it.

Attached Items:

[Name]’s Special Macarons [Rainbow Macarons but with a special twist from [Name]. On the top and bottom of the sweet treat are… faces? Very detailed ones too, with colored hair and eyes! Ah, the faces are none other than [Name], Childe, Teucer, and all of his other siblings! Oh, and macarons of Traveler and Paimon were made as well, how kind! Childe says they’re quite delicious, and he is a great cook, so they must be.]

Freshly Caught Fish [Fish caught by Childe. It seems that the two lovers also went fishing after diving a bit, as one knows how much Childe loves to fish. Sadly, your fishing skills still pale in comparison compared to his and you barely caught anything… That’s alright though! No matter how long it takes, he’ll always happily help you hone your skills!]

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lokisgoodgirl · 7 months

Text

Be Mine [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: A morning meeting has an unexpected twist. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Language. Smutty. Avenger!Loki x Female Reader. Questionable flirting techniques. (w/c 2.8k)

The muscle at the side of Loki’s jaw flexed. He swallowed; an achingly glacial bob of his Adam’s apple making you want to claw your eyes out.

For some inexplicable reason he had opted to wear full leathers to today’s briefing.

It was seven nineteen in the AM. Thor was sporting a muscle vest boasting not one but three stains of varying complexity and a pair of shorts which left little to the imagination. Scott was wearing his dressing gown.

The rest of the team hung off chairs and flopped on the table in various states of undress. Steve stood at the head of the room as usual; prim and fresh in a crisp button-down and perfectly creased chinos.

“So what we’re seeing here,” Steve said, turning to the group from the Powerpoint, “is an up-tick in biological experiments-”

His eyes narrowed while they roamed over the doodling, distracted and hungover band sprawled around the table. “Lang.” he snapped. “Close your legs; there are ladies present.’

Scott shuffled up his seat, drawing the dressing gown down over his knees while mumbling apologies. A low rumble of mirth circled the room, but Loki’s gaze never left the Captain’s.

The curve of his dark lashes swept upward, features set in performative rapture. Loki's facial expression hadn’t changed as the scene unfolded, but for a miniscule twitch of his lip. Usually the two of you would exchange a few eye rolls; a few knowing smiles during a particularly turgid monologue about shoe storage post-mission...but not today. Today he hadn't even looked at you.

Steve sighed. He extended a finger and pushed his retractable pointer down to a stub. Pacing to the table, he dropped his head, laying his palms flat. When he looked up, disappointed-dad energy was thick in his eyes. “Folks, this just won’t do.” he said.

Natasha’s sunglasses slid down her nose. Scott crossed his legs making the swivel chair knock into Wilson and waking him up. The Falcon’s arms flew wide on instinct, whacking Tony in the chest. “Jesus Christmas-” Tony snorted, blinking wildly. “It was a party.” Natasha drawled, pushing the sunglasses back in place with disdain. “Maybe if you’d stayed after the cake you’d have those tight panties of yours in less of a spick, Rogers.”

“That’s Captain Rogers.” he snapped. “We’re on the clock.” “Calm down, Rogers.” Tony said, cresting his fingers. He was remarkably chipper for a man with whipped cream crusted in his hairline. “You’re all sitting on my clock. Remember that.”

Steve flushed scarlet. His eyes narrowed as Tony’s smirk grew.

“All I’m saying is it’s a sorry day when Laufeyson is the star pupil. Look at him!” Steve said, gesturing incredulously at Loki who remained in position; back straight, chin up. But now, one eyebrow arched. “All of you lot in your skivvies and Laufeyson’s in full dress?” Steve shook his head. “I fail to see the humour, Rogers.” Loki said. “Why is it so surprising that I come to our daily summons dressed thus? Certainly I have never presented myself in a tragic towelling monstrosity like Lang here.” “There was that one time with the silk nightie.” Sam whispered to Scott. Scott covered his mouth.

“A silk robe.” Loki snapped.

“Usually you only bring out the Asgardian shit when you’re brown-nosing. Or when you’ve done something shifty.” Natasha said, propping her chin up with a fist. You bet her eyes are closed. Wanda nodded behind her Starbucks.

“Or trying to impress someone,” the witch said. Natasha waved a finger in agreement. “Sexually.” Wanda added.

Loki released a scandalised snort. “How dare you.” he said. Leather creaked against his biceps as he folded his arms.

Beneath the table, your thighs squeezed together. The only thing hotter than Loki in leather, was an indignant Loki in leather. You suddenly became very aware of your quickened breaths making the buttons of your blouse strain. The god’s eyes darted to the side, meeting yours. “What?” he snarled. “Nothing.” you squeaked, swallowing. An awkward silence hung in the room. The scent of stale vodka suddenly seemed very strong. Steve sighed.

“Let’s call it for this morning-” he said, immediately met with muted hisses of celebration around the table. He patted down the air. “Rescheduled for this afternoon. Thirteen-hundred sharp. Wear clothes.” Approval turned to whines and hushed curses as chairs were swivelled and aching bodies shifted. “Unbelievable.” Loki snarled under his breath.

You watched out the corner of your eye as he stood; the flat of his iron stomach inches from your face. The scent of rich leather filled your nostrils while Loki’s fingers nipped beneath the hem of his tunic, tugging it down. He flipped the length of his cape with a sniff. You saw it swirl around his boots briefly as he stepped towards the window, clasping his hands behind his back.

Taking your time, you picked up each piece of carefully laid stationary at your seat. One by one, the rest of the team left the room. Steve was last, his hand hovering on the door handle while he shot you a wary look. As a parting gift, he opened the door wider. “You didn’t stay late?” Loki’s voice was a thick hum in the growing silence. His tone, inscrutable. “Huh?” “At the party.” he said. “You didn’t stay late.”

This time it wasn’t a question. “I usually head off when Thor starts making passes at everyone. I didn’t see you. Were you there?” “He did that?” Loki bristled. “To you?” There was a pause. “To everyone.” you repeated quietly. Loki’s shoulders stiffened. His fingers twitched, thumb digging into one exposed palm behind his back. He was still staring out the window.

“I’ll see you later.” you said, nerves fluttering in your belly. The god’s hair shortened as his chin dipped. You wondered how it would feel to wind those dark strands through your fingers as you rode him. Wondered how the grunts and signs and pretty curses from his lips would sound wet in your ear.

“No.” Loki said. “Excuse me?” “No,” he repeated.

You steadied against the table-top with the pads of your fingertips. Small stars began to burst in your field of vision. “I think the leather looks goo-good,” you stammered. And you didn’t know why.

The thought of him barring the exit of enemies in far flung realms using only that voice barged through the doors of your imagination with the force of a horny caveman. If that was the last sarcastic quip they heard, by god, you imagined they may just have died happy. And hard.

“It looks good.” you repeated, no more than a whisper. Loki turned his head. The sharp profile came into view at a glacial pace. First the peaked tip of his chin, then the slant of his regal nose, then the harsh peak of his cheekbone, then his eyes. Your ass met the table-top with a stumble. There was a small crease between his eyebrows. “Bold of you to make another jest without your compatriots around you, Agent.” he said. Across the short distance between you, venom dripped from his tongue; his hackles raised. “I wasn’t joking,” you said quietly as his gaze fell to your feet with a sneer. The quick breaths that made your buttons strain were back. Loki’s rising stare lingered on your breasts, a small smile tweaking at the corner of his mouth. Words tripped from your lips, forcing their way from behind your teeth. “I like it.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed. He turned fully with a ceremonial flourish, the hands clasped behind his back moving to the front and rippling his leather and silken cloak. It fluttered.

“Is that so?” he purred darkly. He didn’t believe you.

You imagined how this is how a rabbit felt in the eyeline of a fox. To look away was to admit weakness, vulnerability. It meant death. And yet – it was the only chance to escape. But did you want to escape? Not really. You wanted to feel the sharp of his teeth fasten to your neck as he sucked and bit and made violent love to every inch of you.

You nodded, not breaking eye-contact. Loki inhaled sharply, chin tilting up as he did so.

His eyes wandered over grim foam tiles as though an enemy lurked beyond the suspended ceiling. They narrowed, darting back and forth. With a thundering heart, you noted one of his heavy boots rise from the floor. He paced forwards slowly, ceremonially, stopping inches from you. Your fingers curled tight around the table’s edge, the messy in your panties beneath the skirt becoming intolerable. Loki cleared his throat. “Am I to understand, contrary to common rhetoric, that you find my Asgardian leathers enticing; Agent?” “I think ‘enticing’ is a little grandiose, is it not?” you laughed, cringing at the way you so easily mirrored his speech. Loki noticed it too. He tilted his head. “I am nothing if not grandiose, Agent.” Loki said. “Am I not impressive? Am I not imposing?”

He trailed a long finger down your bicep, his touch light as a feather. “So often, you mortals use such words as insult.” he mused.

“It is merely a reflection on your own feelings of inferiority. This morning is a perfect example. An attempt at ridicule to deflect from their own pathetic presentation. Each one more bedraggled and an abject embarrassment to their purpose than the last.” Heat began to rise in your cheeks as his finger drifted along your collarbone. There was a pause, his eyes dropping to your lips before the finger brushed the skin at the hollow of your neck. It graced upwards, tracing the curve and stopping beneath the tip of your chin. “But not you.” he said.

The god’s eyes snapped to yours. His cheekbones hollowed under fluorescent lights, mischief glowing from the depths of his irises and painted in every light wrinkle on his brow.

“What else do you like, Agent?” he goaded softly. “Do you like the idea of what lies beneath these leathers?” You swallowed thickly. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Loki-” you said, glancing towards the open door. He followed your eyes, rolling his own. With a flick of his hand the door slammed shut. “I want you,” he breathed, leaning closer so that the heat of his cheek warmed your own, “to tell me what else you like.”

You bit your lip, watching his beautiful face come back into view. With a prang, the thought occurred that perhaps you were not the rabbit after all. Perhaps you were the fox. Loki’s gaze lingered on your face, searching it.

Emboldened, you found the words. “Why should I?”

His brows peaked softly. He released a muted sigh, pursing his lips. “As much as I am loathe to admit it, Romanoff was right.” he said. The hand tilting your chin upwards returned to its mate, clasped against the leather tunic. “I was trying to impress someone, but not that insufferable Rogers.”

He raised his eyebrows.

Excitement blossomed deep in your belly; rising like shaken soda and fizzing around your chest. Loki bit his bottom lip.

“You see, Agent, I like you very much. And I’m afraid that now it has reached the juncture where I must know if you like anything about me...beyond my exquisite taste in battle armour.”

The change in his demeanour was so dramatic that you could only gape. But when it came to Loki, could you expect anything less? Without thinking you reached forward and grasped the belt slung over his chest, pulling him forward.

Loki’s mouth clashed with yours, the heat of his lips giving way to the thrust of his tongue. Your hands slid over his metal epaulettes, tangling in ebony waves that cascaded around his shoulders. He tasted like heaven, the scent of him deep and dangerously delicious in a way you’d never known. A scent a girl could lose herself in forever; gladly.

In seconds your back was flat against the table, its cool wood harsh against the heat of your skin through the blouse. Loki’s ravenous kiss consumed you, licking and dancing inside your mouth like a man possessed. His shallow moans ricocheted between slurps of his lips, wetness coating them.

“Tell me, you infuriating woman,” he panted as a thick forearm landed on the wood beside your head. The metal vambrace clanged against cheap wood. Saliva hung between your mouths as he stared deep into your soul; blue eyes darkening. “Tell me what you like.”

“About you?” you panted. Loki didn’t nod, only lowered his chin.

His nose nudged at your lips, dragging upwards, tongue tracing around the bottom one. He had begun to smile. One of his legs nudged your thighs wider. The god straightened and you felt a thrill run from your scalp to the tips of your dangling toes. He towered above like a monolith, leather tight to his rectangular body. Hair fell around his jaw, perfectly imperfectly wolfish curls flirting against his skin. His cape brushed against your bare calves as he shifted his stance, palms sliding up your thighs and pushing your skirt higher. “Yes; I like the idea of what’s beneath all this,” you whined as you pawed at his leather-clad stomach. It was so hard. Loki smirked, watching beneath half-lidded eyes. “I think about fucking you in the showers after training,” you whispered bashfully as your hips thrust up against your will. Loki raised an eyebrow. “More...” he rumbled. “I think about you all the time. All the awful things I want to do to you, y-you do to me- Loki, uhh-”

His hands crept higher as you spoke, fingers hooking around the hips of your panties. “If I pull these down, darling” he said with an air of reprimand, “will they be wet?” You let out a gasping moan, back arching against the table.

“Excellent.” Loki snickered, pulling the panties down the length of your legs before stepping back between them.

A hand flew to your mouth as you watched one long finger dip between your thighs, running lightly between your folds. He brought it to his lips, sucking gently. His cheekbones hollowed, finger slipping out. He swallowed with a groan of appreciation.

Loki settled himself between your legs, pushing them wider. The height of the table pressed your dripping centre against his crotch. You thought you might explode. His palms slid up your waist, exploring the curves of your body while your legs wrapped around his hips. The god’s cock pressed eagerly against the leather, strong and thick up the centre. His forearms came down at either side of your head, metal wrist-guards clinking.

“I will show you what it is to be mine,” he murmured in your ear.

Loki’s cock settled against your sex, rubbing in perfect gyration. “Oh...god,” you gasped as the weight of his body pressed against your own.

Fingers combed up from the base of his neck, tangling in his hair. The next moment, they grasped around his back, pulling him closer, catching in the folds of his cloak which draped across your bodies. The god grunted filthy praises in your ear as his bound manhood sent electric currents of pleasure deeper than you’d ever known. His searching lips found their way to your neck, your jaw. Every utterance from his throat more disgustingly sensual than the last. Hot leather filled your nostrils, the scent of him strong and intoxicating. Mounting orgasm bubbled in waves, a dream-like trance broken only with whispered groans of pleasure from your throats. Loki Laufeyson was about to make you cum. The thought was unbelievable. And yet, your pussy being tugged and massaged and owned by his leather-bound cock into the throes of heaven knew it to be true. Dry-humped like a teenager in the back of a pick-up.

“Be mine...” Loki mumbled breathlessly, a strangled choke gasping from deep in his chest. He immediately dove for a perishing kiss, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth and releasing it with a wet suck. He smouldered down.

Against the bright lights, his dark halo shone; tendrils curling against your cheek and brushing with every calculated roll of his hips. Every muscle in your body tensed. Your legs tightened against his hips.

“Be mine,” he echoed. His face was twisted, and you suddenly wondered how close he was to cumming in those beautiful leather pants. “Loki-” you gasped, clutching at his cape. Back arching, the last thing you heard as climax stormed your brain were the matching pants of the god. The last thing you saw were his peaked brows above dilated pupils so deep you could drown in them.

In the afterglow, all you could manage were garbled phrases as your forearm draped over your eyes. “That was...unexpected.” you panted when the god’s weight lifted from your chest. “Perhaps for you.” Loki winked. “It was very carefully calculated on my part,” You watched in dazed disbelief as Loki sank to his knees, leather creaking, and hoisted your hips higher. He lapped at your soaking pussy, muffled moans seeping from his throat as he buried himself in your fresh pleasure. The flat of his tongue licked a thick stripe from the base to your swollen clit, placing a gentle suck on the tip. His eyes flickered up, meeting yours.

“Immaculate, as expected.” he breathed. His chin glistened.

You groaned as he withdrew; grasping at the air as he went. That small caress of him against your sex was everything you could ever have dreamed. Loki let you reluctantly arrange yourself before offering his hand for the short hop off the table. “Not exactly how I imagined our first time,” you said with a sheepish smile. Loki scanned your face.

“Agent don’t be insulting. That was merely a sample,” he scoffed. “It barely counts.” He stepped forward, pulling you flush against him with a flat palm at the base of your spine. “We must ensure you have eaten something before more intimate activities are indulged in; lest you faint. Or worse.” “Or worse?” “You are only mortal, after all.” Loki smiled slyly. “And this,” he gestured to his cock; hard and straining against the leather, “can be rather a handful. As well can his Master.” You slapped him on the shoulder. Loki smirked. Remembering the unexpected schedule change, you frowned. “You think we have time before the meeting later?”

Loki snorted. “We’re not attending. The two of us fulfilled our obligations, unlike the more cretinous members of our party.” You raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to get me in trouble, I can tell.” Loki’s fingers danced up your back, a light thrust of his hips making your body keen. His dirty exhale flooded your ear, the warm scent of him overloading your senses.

“Oh Agent,” he purred against the skin; his eyes darting covertly to the pair of panties discarded on the floor. “As if you expected anything less.”

Taglist (continued in comments)

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#loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki x reader smut #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki x you smut #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #lokismut #loki oneshot #loki laufeyson smut #loki laufeyson x reader #loki imagine #loki x yn #loki x female reader smut #loki gifs #loki marvel

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starsinscript · 3 months

Text

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ fit check ; op81

summary ; you make oscar do a fit check before going out on a walk.

you had seen the comments underneath your tiktoks, primarily your fit checks. oscar's fans are begging for better tiktok content from oscar, and you have decided today is the day. after tying up your sneakers, oscar grabs his keys, getting ready to leave.

"wait! i forgot something!" you exclaim, opening up your phone to tiktok and setting it up on the credenza. oscar, knowing you, stands off to the side awkwardly as you turn on the camera. what he doesn't expect is for you to pull him into frame as the counter ticks down. you smile bright, and start talking: "oscar and i are about to go on a walk, so why not do a fitcheck?" you giggle, looking at oscar's confused face.

"you wanna go first, baby?" you tease and oscar sighs, then pulls off his hat, looking at the front. "we got, mclaren," he says as he puts the hat back on his head. he points to his shirt and you laugh as he says, "mclaren."

"and the shorts..." he trails off, looking at the plain black shorts for any logo. "lululemon," you whisper, and oscar's eyebrows jump as he realizes. "yes, right. lululemon shorts." he lifts his foot, looking at his sneakers. "um...looks like adidas, might be wrong, but..." he shrugs, giving you a helpless look. you laugh at his raised eyebrows and wide eyes before gesturing to yourself.

"wanna guess my clothes?" oscar's eyebrows raise but he nods, turning his body slightly away from the camera so he can look at your outfit. "the top is...alo right?" his brows furrow slightly, but you see his face brighten up as you nod. "and then the leggings, lululemon." he taps the logo on the back, "noticed that earlier." you flush slightly but nod, before he looks at your shoes. "nike." he grins, nudging his foot against yours, proud.

"good job, baby!" you laugh, kissing his cheek. his rosy cheeks get redder, and he nods. "bye, guys! oscar, wave!" you get closer to the camera, and you laugh as oscar waves awkwardly before turning off the camera.

"such a good sport," you tease, patting as his cheek gently. he rolls his eyes, "never again." you hum, as you post the tiktok.

"sure, baby." you grin, knowing full well he loves you enough to do another one.

comments under "fit check w/ osc!!"...

username the way oscar knew all her clothes 🥹🥹

-> username also the fact that he barely knew the clothes he wears, but the second he sees her clothes he's like "oh! i know that!"

-> username i feel like they go shopping together, and he just follows her like a baby duck

-> username LIKE A BABY DUCK 😭😭 why can i imagine that

username y/n make oscar wear anything other than mclaren!!

-> yourusername i'm slowly infecting him

-> oscarpiastri ??

-> yourusername OUT OF LOVE!! 🤍🤍😊

-> username at least he has the lululemon shorts...it could be worse guys

username oscar's little tap on the lululemon logo...y/n getting flustered...oscar's cheeky smirk...much to think about

-> username THEY'RE SO CUTE IT MAKES ME WANNA 🗣️🗣️

username these are my parents your honor

-> yourusername welcome to the fam username!!!

-> oscarpiastri i am not adopting a stranger on the internet

-> yourusername OSC 😭😭

-> username i see how it is...

username more fit checks with oscar please!!! you guys are so cute!!

-> yourusername oscarpiastri the kiddies want more!!!

-> oscarpiastri 😐

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fluff #op81 x reader #op81 fic #op81 fluff

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carmenized-onions · 4 months

Text

I Want To. | Wellness Check

logline; Such is life, you go from not being needed at The Bear today to being more needed than you ever have been.

[!!!] series history, this is the fourth; First, Second, Third

portion; 4.7k+

possible allergies; a dash of Tony's former paramedic background (and just medical shit in general) in this one, so, a sprinkle of post-trauma stress (and her usual yikes psyche). Mikey comes up a bit, as usual! despite the ops, we ball.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (pretty unavoidably gendered episode, mb non-fem folks)

we'll talk after babe, have a good time w/ this one.

Falling asleep was easy— par for Carmen fighting to keep his 6:30 am alarm on. When he finds out you don’t have a plug on his side of the bed and he has to charge his phone on your side, he turns it off. Cute.

Well, there’s also the part where you had to ask if he was okay because it sounded like he wasn’t breathing and it turns out —He was not breathing— He then pointed out that it sounded like you weren’t breathing —You were not breathing— Both of you thought the sound of your lungs would bother the other, so you opted not to use them at all. Turns out, counterproductive; you notice each other’s absences pretty well.

But besides that, it's easy. Carmen isn’t an awful bedfellow. He’s not super shifty, he doesn’t tug the blanket, he doesn’t roll all the fucking way over to your side, or anything like that. He’s honestly concerningly still. Is he annoyed that you’ve gotta toss and turn a little to get comfortable? Probably. He's probably dreaming of you exploding right now, he’s so annoyed. He didn’t make fun of your ages old build-a-bear plush nor it’s Cubs jersey, so that was nice. Pity, probably.

...If Carmen wasn’t here, he knows he’d be stirring and kicking and probably sleep-walking to his oven to light it on fire. But he is here. Where kicking would hurt. Where stirring would wake you. Where a fire would cause more anxiety than relief because all your plants and projects would die. Where you washed his hair and told him that taking care of people doesn’t feel like a lot of work to you. Was it not a lot of work, to take care of his brother? Was it worth it, to you? Probably not. How could it be?

He wills his body to not fucking move because if he does it's going to ruin everything. He's going to ruin everything.

He wakes up at 6:30 on the dot, alarm or no. He’d be concerned if his body functioned any differently. But he can’t get to his phone while you’re sleeping in his way and you’re so comfortable. You’re clutching a bear that’s undeniably on a losing team and you’re at peace with it. He’s trying not to make a metaphor out of this in his mind; alas, it’s already there. The only thing he can do is go back to sleep and dream about killing the teenage boy in his head before he can escape again and call you pretty.

It's around ten when you wake up, you try not to wake him when you turn to grab your phone, but the split second of motion makes him flinch like he’s about to get jumped. “Relax!” You hiss, but like, soft, whispered. “I’m doin’ the fuckin’ Wordle, not smothering you with a pillow.”

“You do the Wordle?”

“Oh, fuck you—”

“The first fuckin’ thing you do in the morning is the Wordle?”

“And I do the Crossword too, bitch, what of it?”

“…I like Connections.”

“I fuckin' hate Connections.”

“Alright, damn!”

The Chicago accent in both of you is stronger in your rasping morning voices. As is the laughter. You roll onto your stomach to get closer to him and let him see your screen. Neither of you have entirely woken up yet and that means it’s the perfect time to do a puzzle. If you don't focus on this puzzle right now, you fear you will get too comfortable in this idea of domesticity.

“C’s in the right place. Nothin’ else though.”

He’s the one that figures out its Cumin. You pretend not to be mad about this. You’re furious. Of course, it’d be a spice on the day Mr Food Guy sleeps over. Bullshit.

When you finally sit up, stretch, and say, “I’m just gonna shower real quick ‘nd—”

He’s at a breakneck speed to reply, “I’ll make breakfast.”

“Oh, you cook all the fuckin’ time, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

You blink, then shrug, the man likes to cook, c’est la vie. “Who am I to refuse?”

He looks far too happy about this, as though he’s won a lottery. A lottery of manual labour. He rolls out of bed, grabbing his back pack stuffed with yesterday’s clothes before leaving you to your own devices. In a literal sense, too, since you get a text. Ugh.

‘Gigi called in, can you reach?’

You would prefer not to reach, but this is capitalism.

‘When's the shift?’

‘6:30 to 12:30’

Why couldn’t something else at The Bear be fuckin’ broken today?

‘yeah i can reach’

‘that’s my girl, red tops today, see u’

You have also won the lottery of manual labour today. Look at you and Carm, luckiest people alive. Something like that. Alright, go shower and be normal about the fact that there’s a Michelin Star Chef making you breakfast in your kitchen. And he’s prett—

“You make your own bread.”

“I do.” You sit at your own little breakfast nook, waiting to be served. Towel hung around your neck post shower. You’d offer to help, but based on his urgency to cook for you, it’s gonna be a no. Plus, the gift on the table you’ve got for him is going to piss him off enough, can't poke this bear too much. He's already given you a mile. Too many idioms.

“I like to think in another universe I am a homesteader who makes her own soaps and renders tallow n’ shit. But I settle for growing basil and making sourdough in my shitty little Chicago apartment for now.”

“I like your apartment.” He hums, though amused. He turns and sets your plate—the one black plate— in front of you with a small smile. This smile immediately falls when he pushes the plate towards you and you push a travel bag of toiletries towards him.

“Fuck is this?”

“I don’t want to hear any complaints, Irish Spring.”

“How d’you know I use Irish Spring?”

“It’s all five of your routine, it’s going to be pungent— Now listen.” You pick up the bag; you’d dug through your sink cabinet and found a dollar store pack of plastic travel bottles, unused from cancelled trips of yesteryear. You've decanted your own products for him. It's fine, you buy jumbo sizes anyways...

“Shampoo, conditioner, face wash—They’ve even got labels.”

He takes the bag from you, setting it down on his side of the counter, begrudgingly. Though he hasn’t particularly paid it much mind, tunnelled on something else entirely, “Do you not like Irish Spring?”

"I didn't give you a body wash, you can still use it for that one purpose."

"Yeah, but do you not like Irish Spring?"

"...I think it's fine."

“Fine?”

“I’m more of an Old Spice fan.”

“You don’t deserve breakfast—” He pulls your plate, you pull it back.

“All I said—” “Thinkin’ I smell like shit—” “Did not say that—!” “Just cause you use the fruity stuff—” “I smell good! Deny that I smell good!” “You smell fine.” “Wowww—Whatever, do the thing.”

“Bruschetta with a breakfast twist.” Ah, that makes him give you the plate back. His kink is explaining food. “Sourdough toasted, topped with fresh basil—”

“Courtesy of me.”

“Courtesy of you, yes. Tomatoes, bacon glazed in balsamic, and you didn’t have parm so I used feta. And then, y’know, over medium egg on top.”

“You’re very good, Carmen.”

“Oh, I—Uh—” You haven’t even tried it yet. You’re telling him he’s good for the sake of the effort he’s given alone. He needs an antacid. “Thank you.”

It’s redundant to say his food is good. But what else can you say? It’s a fucking perfect open face sandwich. But he’s eating it with you, and half of it’s your own handiwork, and all of your pantry, so you leave your praises purely reaction based, unsaid.

You're honestly a little distracted, reading too hard into the act of him giving you the black plate and taking one of your shitty plastic ones for himself. Time to talk.

“Itinerary for today?”

“Gotta talk chaos menu with Syd before opening, then, well, running the restaurant all night… And then I’ll—I’ll go home.”

“Yeah? You can come back here, if you want to.” Thank God you took a bite in time to hide your selfish disappointment. It’s good for him to go home, but then he’s not here. Real Catch-22.

He shakes his head, “I think I’m good now. Thanks, though. What’s—What’s uh, your plans for today?”

“I’m gonna drop you off wherever you’re going, n’ then I’m gonna go shopping for Syd’s gift—”

“It’s her fuckin’ birthday or somethin?” It’s a delight how immediately panicked he is by this. You're also thankful because he's so distracted it means you won't have to tell him the rest of your plans for today. You'd like to keep that life separate. For as long as possible, at least.

“Nono, it’s just, I didn’t get her anything for her opening night and I wanna change that. I’ll get you something too.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” The very idea of waiting for his response is freaking you the fuck out, so you’re quick to clear your voice and add. “I’ll give you my number, in case you end up needing to crash.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Ey, text me your invoice too.”

You take both your cleared plates to the sink, and the lie is swift. You've gotten a lot better at that, in the past year.

“Oh no worries, your sister already covered it.”

It is 6:30 and your life is over. Kidding. Unless? You dropped off Carmen at the train station hours ago and, to use his words, ‘it’s hit’. He’s at The Bear and there’s nothing for you to fix there— So you’re not.

You’ve only been there like three times and yet it started to feel… Like your thing!

Like, like you’d just come in everyday and… Dunno, fix something... But it’s not like they’re gonna have a crisis everyday. Especially not ones that Fak can't handle himself if needed— There's no way he's gonna last at hosting, anyways. You’re now realizing the unrealistic dream— Possibly more unrealistic than homestead you.

Speaking of, Homestead You would probably throw up, if she saw the you you’re looking at in the mirror right now. You look good. Objectively, you know you look good. The mug is stamped. Your pants are black, high-waisted, and give you an ass. The bright red leather corset top is… Chafing, but it looks good! It's a sweetheart neckline so you have to take off your long rope chain necklace from Mikey and shove it in your pocket— Which is fine and doesn't feel bad at all. And listen, listen, being an on-call bottle girl is good money!

And you might get put on bar tonight! You don’t know for sure if you’re gonna have to juggle around lit up bottles for a bunch of fucking geezers!

...

God, fuck, it’s 10:20 and your life is over.

This group of geezers have been fucking annoying and fucking Cherry wouldn’t get off fucking bar even though you literally covered for her last week and these stupid grandpas asked if gratuity is included— No fucking shit! Did you take their card and put a 40% tip? Yeah, maybe. Fuck them! They’re too fucking rich to notice! And they took three hours to leave! Gonna bash this champagne bottle over his bald fucking—

“Ey! That’s a face I remember.”

You hear your name— Not Tony, not Chip, not Cousin. Your name.

You turn to see, oh fucking hell, let God kill you—

“Uncle J!~ Good to see you!~ What a surprise! It’s Jack, here.” Jack of all Trades. It was cute at the time of sign up. Your smile is bright, fake, strained, and beautiful.

“Been too long, really.” Cicero isn’t a bad guy—Correction: Cicero isn’t a bad guy, to you, but as Mikey once put it, he’s a fuckin’ ball buster and in your case, you’re one of the few people beneath him that he asks favours from. Always wants free labour and your expertise. And he always has a habit of asking for favours the second you need one back. But you don’t need one right now! So it’s fine! Everything’s fine!

“Do your Uncle a favour,”—Fully not your Uncle—“Could you pair me and my friends here with a good red?”

You let it go that they’re having fish and asking for a red. Stupid thing to get hung up over right now. You make a commission of it anyways; you just pick the most expensive bottle. He won’t know the difference. The Bear would know the difference. Carmen would notice the difference... Alright, relax.

While pouring glasses, Jimmy whispers to his compatriots and one by one they all peel off. It is almost alarming how quickly this group of men turn and leave without a second thought, taking their glasses with them.

You raise your brows and look at Cicero. “Ah. This is the moment where I sit?”

He nods, gesturing to the booth. “This is the moment where you sit.”

You slip into the booth, sitting across from him. “What do you need?”

“Right to the point with you.”

“I hate suspense.” You shrug.

“You liked Mikey.”

What the fuck?

You bite your inner cheek, hard. “Don’t say that shit.”

“I liked him too,” He says it solemnly, like your mutual grief is a proper apology. He takes a long sip of his stupid red wine. “Did you hear? Cousin Vinnie and Mira are gettin’ hitched, finally.”

“I have no fucking idea who Vinnie and Mira are.” You take the glass when he hands it to you, taking a sip. Small. You gotta drive home, after all.

“Really? It’s a big wedding—Destination too, in New York—”

“I hate to remind you, but I was friends with Mikey, not his family.” Not his biological one, at least. The Beef, sure. But you literally only met his siblings two days ago. “What’s a wedding gotta do with me?”

He bristles, and finally cuts it short. “Around three hundred guests, seven-hour shift, open bar—” “Oh, for fuckssake—” “Listen—”

“It’s an easy gig, I’ll fly you out for it, it’s a month and a half away, you’ll get to attend a big fuckin’ Italian wedding— Which will be a shitshow, certainly, so free entertainment; and Michelin Star level catering, kind of.”

You squint. Kind of? “You got Carmy in on this shit?”

“You know ‘em?”

You nod, pressing your elbows on the table, “We’ve recently become acquainted. What d’you got on him for him to cater a wedding?”

“He’s eight-hundred grand in the hole.” “Fuck!” “He gets thirty off for catering. Smart boy, said yes.”

Christ, you massage the bridge of your brow with one hand and pull out your phone with another to check your calendar, you might as well see if you can even entertain the idea. You don’t need a favour right now, maybe you can bargain and get him to actually pay you for it, this time.

“I dunno, Uncle J…”

Oh.

28 unread texts from Syd.

3 unread texts from an unknown number— Probably Carmen.

9 missed calls from Syd.

Uncle Jimmy, always, always, has a fucking way, of asking for a favour when you need one…

You slam your phone, screen down on the table, straightening your posture in your seat. “I have demands.”

He motions for you to continue, taking his wine glass back. “You always do.”

“You and your friends are gonna tip a hundred percent tonight.”

“That why you give me a 2016 Fisher?”

“I like to think ahead.”

“Smart girl.” He shrugs, palms of his hands out. Which means yes.

“If Uncle Lee comes up to the bar I’m throwing a fork at him and leaping over the counter.”

He chuckles, “Thought you 'didn’t know family'.”

“I remember what I'm told.”

His amusement fades quickly, remembering first hand. He nods. “…You’re allowed to jump him if I’m watching first.”

“And you’re friends with my boss, right?”

“We’re acquainted.”

“I’m gonna punch out now and you’re gonna smooth that out for me.”

He perks up, amused, glancing at your phone, “Somethin’ come up, Chip?”

“Don’t call me Chip.” He wants to poke at you, just a little bit more, but there’s a rattled look in your eyes that he’s so rarely seen that he lets it go.

He waves his hand, shrugging, “Be safe. I'll send you the details. December wedding, remember.”

At the end of the day, Cicero isn’t a bad guy to you, someone who loved his nephew as much as he did.

You’re running to your car while you dial back Syd. You don’t have time to read the texts, all you need to know is that it’s an emergency. She picks up just after the first ring.

“Syd what the—” “Code blue!”

You almost fall on your face and eat asphalt. For a flash, you’re in the back of an ambulance being handed a defibrillator at the age of 22, surrounded by faces just as scared and young as you. Then you’re back in the parking lot, slotting the key into your car door because the fob doesn’t work. It’s never worked.

“S-Someone’s having a fucking heart attack!?”

“What?!”

“That’s what fucking code blue means!”

“Oh my god! Sorry! No, I was just saying the thing that scares doctors the most!”

“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ scared Syd!” You slide into the driver’s seat and slam your car door shut. You take a deep breath, white knuckling the steering wheel. “…I’m-I'm sorry for yelling! Where are you, what’s going on?”

“The—The Bear, the restaurant.” The second you have a location you’re revving off.

“Nat locked herself in the office—” “Like trapped?” This shit again?

“No, no— Like she locked herself in— She did this like two hours ago and I thought she was just taking a breather— But we’ve closed and, and like almost everyone left and she’s still not coming out— And she blocked the door inside— and— And I think she’s trying to hide that she’s basically shrieking in pain every five minutes.”

You take a long time to register anything she’s just said. Her tone is as panicked as you feel on the inside. You’re only now registering the ambient yelling of Richie and Carmen in the background.

“…Did—Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah Syd, I’m just thinking.” You don’t step on the gas on purpose, it just happens. “A pregnant woman is screaming in pain— in intervals— behind a blockaded door?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Have you called an ambulance?”

There’s a much more distinct yell in the background from Richie, “No cops!”

Then from Carmen, “No coverage!”

“Yeah…” Syd shakily continues for them, “The insurance is a problem, and Richie said— Motherfucker—” You hear a muffled scrap over the phone before Richie continues on for Syd.

“Er, yeah, Cousin, Sugar keeps yelling that she’s fine ‘n blocked the door, if we call the cops they’re gonna ram that shit down and take her to the loony bin.”

“That’s not— That’s not what paramedics do.”

“That’s what they all do.”

“Richie, y’know, I was a paramedic, right?”

“…You a fuckin’ fed, Chip?”

“Richie, if I was a fuckin' narc you would be in prison by now. I, I— I'll be there in like, like eight minutes, everyone stop fucking yelling at Sugar!”

You’re there in four. You almost rear end someone and you run every yellow you get but you’re there in four. You don’t park properly in the back, you just drive your car in and turn it off in the middle of the lot. You don’t bother to be let in, you just punch the code in as you remember it. As Natalie told you.

“Oh good you—Oh my, God?” Syd is no better than a man in this moment, going from grateful for your presence to being one intrusive thought away from whistling.

You did not have time to change out of your ...outfit and someone has been hogging your Carhartt. You pass Syd quickly, waving a hand in front of her face. Goddammit, why do your boot heels have to have that incredibly satisfying femme fatale click right now?

“Alright— Relax—”

“Holy shit, Chippy!” Richie was yelling at Sugar through the door along with Carm, but once alerted to your presence is now snapping his fingers. You'd describe him more as impressed than actually attracted to you. “You clean up!”

“Cousin, are you—” He grabs Carmen’s face, turning it to you— Carmen does of course, immediately slap Richie’s hand away which of course, means they just start smacking each other's hands. Like preteen girls. “Ey, get the fuck off—” “I just want you to look at a pretty girl, Cousin—!” “Stop fuckin’ touchin’ me!” “Are you looking!?” “I—”

“Everyone shut the fuck up!”

You silence the room. You’re thankful most of the staff has left by now since it’s well after close. It's just Carmen, Syd, Richie, Tina, and Fak for some goddamn reason...You can't be mean you're handymen, you have to stick together.

“I look different from the usual jumpsuit, yes, we get it, can we move on? Pregnant woman?”

Syd is the first to speak, “…Were you on a date, though?”

You blink and roll your eyes all at once, twisting your head to her, “Syd—”

“It’s good to see you getting out there, baby.” Tina, deeply unhelpful in this moment, puts a hand around your shoulder. Oh to have a mother’s judgment when she’s not even your mother.

“O-kay!” You drag on the ‘kay’, clapping your hands together, “Everyone, just get your thoughts out in the next five seconds and then we’re moving on.”

“Chippy, I cannot believe you’ve held this out on me—” “—I meant it like-like a concerned, did we interrupt your date—” “—The red is unbelievable on you, Cousin!” “I need you to teach me how you do your makeup—” “Can you— can you yell again—?” “Fak!” “Oh, so that’s too much?”

A cacophony, it continues on. Your eyes glaze over, and you’re waiting for Sugar to let out a scream so everyone remembers the fucking point of being here. But then you look at Carmen. Everyone’s pivoted from staring at you to yelling at each other. But Carmen; Carmen is still looking at you. Stupid soft scary eye contact. And his voice is so much quieter than the yelling but it’s the thing that you hear anyways.

“It looks tight.”

There’s a possibility that when you killed the teenage girl inside you that you also killed the feminist. Because there’s a small sub-sect of you that’s upset that he’s not objectifying you right now. That his vision is focused on you. Not the changes. He doesn’t seem to look at you any differently than when you’re wearing a jumpsuit and utility belt, covered in toilet water. This should not be annoying and yet it is.

“It is.”

He nods, eye contact unshifting, unblinking, “You wanna change?”

“Maybe after we find out whether or not your sister is in labour.”

He nods. He takes a second but he nods.

You approach him, rather, the door, knocking gently. Everyone quiets down.

You clear your throat, and once more, the persona is put on, you’re a paramedic, putting on that soft but firm reassuring authoritative tone. “E-M Rescue, I got a call for a wellness check on Natalie Berzatto?”

“Tony—” A groan of pain behind the door, “I am perfectly well! Everyone go home!”

You grimace, you motion with your hand for Fak to hand you a screwdriver— He keeps one in his breast-pocket, even when wearing a suit. Hey, you should start doing that.

“Nat, I’m a paramedic— Or I was—will you please let me in?”

“I don’t— Fuck! —Need a paramedic!”

“Never hurts to do a check-up, Nat.” You speak calmly, like you always did. “Listen, lover, if you don’t open the door, I’m gonna have to take it off its hinges, and we're gonna lose medic patient confidentiality.”

When she doesn’t reply after a good beat, you start to unscrew the top hinge; she can hear it, “Wait, wait, wait— Fuck-Fuck— I’m opening it!”

There’s another series of pained groans as she exerts herself to open the door, and once she does, it’s only by a crack, to look at you and you alone. She’s absolutely been crying. She speaks in a whispered tone. “Just you.”

You nod, handing the screwdriver back to Fak without breaking eye contact with her. “Just me.”

She cracks it open just enough for you to come in. And so, you do. Everyone is, for the first time, too worried about her shutting down to interrupt or yell a complaint.

You close the door behind you, pressing your back to it. You note the toppled over chair by your feet that she must’ve blocked it with. Plus the puddle of amniotic fluid beneath her. Oh fuck.

...

“You wanna talk or do you just want me to check your contractions?”

“I’m—” She shakes her head, covering her face. She half sits on the desk. “I’m fucking— I am not ready for this.”

“Yeah.” You nod. You’re not here to convince anyone they’re ready to be a fucking mother. But you’re here to listen, certainly.

“She’s gonna hate me.”

“Who?”

“Her—!” Her voice is choked, another contraction. You’re silently taking the time in your head. She points to her stomach.

“And— And we just opened, and— And I’m gonna have to go on maternity leave, which is the last fucking thing we need and— and— If I could just fucking keep her in!”

“Natalie.” You put a hand on her shoulder, she finally looks at you. “This is happening.”

“Not help—fu—ll.”

“I know it’s not. This is scary and there are no take backs—” “Very unhelp—”

“Nat, your daughter wants to meet you.”

You squeeze her shoulder; she looks like she’s gonna cry all over again for a completely different reason. “She probably won’t hate you. Who’s to say. But I know you’ll love her. And that’s enough, isn’t it?”

She nods, emphatically, but something is still bothering her. You squeeze her shoulder again. You whisper, so even if everyone’s ear is pressed to the door— Which you doubt, she’s screaming after all, they won’t hear.

“Carmen will still know you love him, even when you're not here.”

She immediately goes for a hug, you reciprocate with a shuddered ease. She sniffs, head on your shoulder. She stays there for a while before letting you go, nodding. “Okay.”

You hand her the tissue box next to her on the table, she takes it thankfully, crushing it in her hand. Another contraction. Oh, that couldn't have been more than 2 minutes. Oh fuck.

You kneel down in front of her, and you’re simply no longer in your body as a person but just the paramedic. You could not be more thankful that she’s wearing a dress today. Awkward requests of spreading legs and pulling off underwear aside, Natalie’s daughter does in fact really want to meet her. Oh fuck.

You look up at Natalie, between her knees, you speak cool, professional. “You’re crowning. This is gonna have to happen here. I'll have someone call your husband.”

You’re so calm that it doesn’t give Natalie the feeling or need to freak out, she just breathes. “Okay. Okay.”

You stand upright. “Do you prefer this office or somewhere else?”

“I can’t— Move.”

“Makes sense. Makes total sense. Okay. I’ll go get everything we need, I’ll be right back. I might send some people in, okay, love?”

She just grunts in reply, nodding, now that she’s not in as much emotional pain, she can entirely focus on her brutalizing physical pain.

“Oh, hey, I know—” You grab her purse, pulling out her phone and ear buds, handing them to her with haste, your calm demeanour is faltering just a bit. “Listen to some music, loud, y’know, chill…” You put the pods in her ear for her. She’s again, in too much pain to tell you to fuck off, and just plays her music loud.

You softly open the door, smiling just a bit too much as you leave, and very softly close the door behind you. Looking at the motley crew before you, your persona immediately falls apart. You really only wanted her to play music so you could scream. “Oh, my fucking God.”

“What’s happening, she good?” What a sweet, stupid brother, Sugar has.

You purse your lips together, eyes wide, shaking your head. “She’s going to give birth in like— Maybe six minutes. Max ten.” Everyone goes to speak in an uproar of panic, and then you slap yourself in the face. Hard. That stuns them silent.

“Alright!” You press your hands over your eyes, “Tina!”

She’s been around this block before, “What do you need?”

“Can you go sit in there with her? Tell her all the breathing exercises and shit? Keep her calm? Coming from you it won’t seem so—”

“Condescending as fuck?”

“Yes, exactly, can you?”

“Gotchu, baby.” She claps your shoulder when she walks past and into the office.

You clap hers in tandem, “Thank you, Mama—Okay, Richie!”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna need you to call Nat’s husband—”

“Why do I—”

“Because you’re a fuckin’ dad, Rich, and he will need you!” You’re yelling all pissed, snapping your fingers at him, but he does light up when you say it like that. “I don’t care if he wets his fuckin’ bed, tell him to get here!”

He salutes, walking off, “Aye aye, Cap’n Chip.”

You shake off the sting in your hand, God, you really did slap yourself too hard. You turn to the next targets. “Syd, Fak.”

Syd responds hesitantly for the both of them, since Fak is silently enjoying your colonel persona a little too much. “…Yes, C-Captain?”

“I need towels, a lot of clean towels— cloth ones, like sanitized clean— Warm half in water— And then I need a clean sheet— A table cloth or something, I don’t fucking care, something clean and big that you’re fine destroying. I need sterile sheaths, Syd you get those— Other than that, however they get to me, I don’t give a shit— Just scrub in before you touch anything!”

They almost knock into each other the way they run so fast. You yell after them. “Get the big sheet first, she needs to lay down!”

“Yes, Chef!”

You take a deep breath before moving your gaze onto Carmy. The screaming lead EM in you melts off your shoulders, just for the second.

He asks before you can even say anything, “Yes, Chef?”

“I need you to scrub in and get me gloves and an apron—” “On it, Chef—” “And you’re gonna sit in with me for the birth of your niece.”

He cringes, not to refuse, but just the mounting reality of the situation is dawning on him. His sister is going to give birth to his niece in their shared office of his high-class restaurant within it's first week of open.

But you then tag on, “Carmy, she needs you— Frankly, I’m not the one giving birth but fuckin' I need you. T-There.”

He softens instantly, like tranquilizing— Well, a bear.

“Yes, Chef.”

I know the opening probably feels so far away by now, but i do want to note that Breakfast Bruschetta is my own recipe that I used to make like every fuckin' day pre-employment. It's so goddamn good. I highly recommend it, babes. It's balsamic with brown sugar dissolved, btw, Carmy's just a quick explainer.

I wrote like a solid 75% of the labour sequence before deciding it just needed to have the breathing room of it's own chapter, so until next time for that one bbs. But I'm excited for it! And also dreading it! A lot of hard conversations combined with giving birth = nightmare to write, but well worth it, i think. Speaking of: I don't believe at the end of Season 2 that Sugar is at the end of her term of 36 weeks, but in our case here, she is. I'm very much so not interested in a very scary premature birth for our girl!! She's okay!! Dw!! I just wonked with time a little, hope that's okay.

And hey, look at that reveal! Bartender/Sommelier was code for bottle service-- Which is a very respectable career, btw, don't get it twisted-- I was critiquing it only in the way I would critique literally any other job: Misery Under Capitalism. And now we've got that fuckin' wedding in the future midst! Ah!!

Anyways please send me your thoughts ad nauseam, I reload my activity feed every 3 seconds to see what you guys are thinking. If you reblog, tell me what you think in the tags!! Yell at me in the replies!! Send an anon in!! I don't bite, I swear <3

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#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #the bear fanfiction #the bear x reader #carmy the bear #the bear fx

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urhoneycombwitch · 7 months

Text

imagine being loved by me

🍯 honey flavour: your love has stood the test of time, thus far, but a party fit for a rockstar brings up some bitter emotions.

🐝 the bees: rockstar!Eddie x jealous!Reader

wc: 8k

cw: drugs and alcohol consumption, mentions of weight gain (eddie’s, in a positive manner), R has panic/anxiety attack, jealousy (talked about and resolved tho), softdom!Reader, softdom!Eddie, oral (E and R receiving), R has breasts + a V and referred to with she/her pronouns, P in V sex, cumming inside w/out protection

foreword: timeline is wobbly and may not align perfectly w canon bc I’m bad at math so shhhh suspend ur disbelief. based on this anon thank you v much anon <3

___

It’s the coldest January Hawkins has seen in ages. Snow banks sit high on the roadsides, air thick with snowflakes, three-AM fog brought in courtesy of the bitter wind chill.

Under the yellow floodlight of a nearby streetlamp, your boyfriend is sucking down the last of a joint while you stamp your feet against the gravel parking lot.

“C’mon, Eddie,” you whine, crossing the arms of your fleeced puffer jacket, bouncing on your heels to keep the blood flowing. “My toes are gonna get frostbite.”

“A touch dramatic,” Eddie replies, unbothered. The cherry of the joint between his lips burns orange, casting a warm glow over Eddie’s cheekbones, the twinkle of snowflakes caught in his bangs. “I told you to go in without me, princess. Warmer in there.”

“Without you? As if.” You pull the pity card, and it works, ‘cuz it always does- that boy has got to learn how to say no to you, one of these days.

Not today, though, because Eddie is tamping out the ember on the sole of his boot and crunching up the snowy path to sling an arm around your neck.

“Grub time,” he says against your hair, pressing his cold lips to the side of your forehead as you both make your way into Benny’s Burgers.

The heated air is a welcome relief, and save for a couple of old-timers at a side table, you and Eddie are the only customers in the place.

Benny greets you both from where he’s flipping patties on the kitchen grill, waving a spatula at the corner booth- “All yours, kiddos. Want the usual?”

You and Eddie call out affirmatives as you sink into opposing seats, unwrapping yourselves from all your winter gear as you go.

“God bless Benny Hammond for expanding his night hours,” you say, piling your green scarf on the tabletop. “This is a good tradition for us, y’know. Post-band practice smoking and coffee- very rock and roll.”

“I concur.” Eddie tosses his knit hat at you playfully. “You, my lady, have the most rock ‘n roll soul I ever did see.”

As Benny approaches with two mugs of steaming coffee, you muse aloud, “Not sure if the amount of sugar you’re about to dump in your coffee is very metal, per se...”

“Y’hear that, Benny?” Eddie grabs a fistful of sugar packets and shakes them indignantly. “My girl’s trying to keep me on the straight and narrow. How’s a rockstar s’posed to live in these conditions?”

“Lord knows,” Benny says, sardonic, setting the mugs down and turning back to the kitchen.

Eddie winces as his hands wrap around the heat of the mug, and you notice right away. “Your fingers splitting again? I have that salve that you used last time, but it’s back at the trailer.”

He puts his hand face-up onto the table, and you slip yours into his, the deep fingertip grooves from guitar strings rough against your soft palm.

“I’ll live. Plus, it’s kind of metal, right?” Eddie runs a calloused thumb across the back of your hand.

You squeeze back, give him a wink. “Very metal.”

Eddie’s been working himself to the bone lately. Trying to stay in school and not drop out is a feat in itself, but compounded with the band practices that have only ramped up in length recently, it’s a lot to balance.

He hasn’t complained at all, of course. It’s not really in his nature.

In the past few weeks, however, he’s been imbued with this near-manic energy, a renewed sense of purpose. In between your own fitful sleeps you often wake in the early hours of the morning to find Eddie hunched over his desk, pen flying across his notebook as he reworks an old song or outlines a new one. Not that you weren’t proud of him before, but seeing him apply this newfound passion to his music has been a huge source of joy for you.

And, if you’re being really honest, also a major turn on. I mean, the boy’s got swagger like no other, and you’re so glad he’s finally utilizing it on stage. Even if that stage is in the middle of a piece of shit dive bar. Still counts, in your book.

Benny drops off baskets of hot fries, a burger for Eddie, and a BLT for you. Methodic and familiar, you offload half your fries to Eddie’s basket as he slides his burger towards you for the first bite.

After a few minutes of peaceful eating, Eddie balls up a napkin in his fist and raps the table with his knuckles. “So, uh. Kind of have some news.”

You slot the ketchup bottle back into its metal holder and look up with raised brows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He looks suddenly nervous, knee knocking into the underside of the table as he bounces his leg compulsively. “You remember Paige Warner? Graduated in ‘81, brother is a baseball jock?”

When you nod, Eddie blows out a breath- his unease is kind of setting you on edge.

“What about Paige Warner?” you prompt.

“She moved out to L.A. for a job and she’s working this scouting gig for some bigshot record,” he continues, absently pulling the thin napkin in his hands into pieces, staring vacantly at the mess. “And she wants Corroded Coffin to record and send out a demo to the label.”

As the news sinks in, your jaw drops. “Holy shit. What?”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s fidgeting with the paper scraps now, still not making eye contact with you. “She wants us to start recording next week. I haven’t told anyone else, yet, I wanted to make sure you were the first-”

You interrupt him with an excited little squeal (drawing glares from the old guys across the diner) and shove up from your side of the table to throw your arms around Eddie.

“Holy shit,” you repeat, laughing as Eddie pulls you into his lap- “Eddie, that’s amazing!”

“You think so?” he asks, your enthusiasm allowing his own to creep in; He slides his hands to your denim-clad hips, his self-professed favorite stress toy (well, tied for favorite with your thighs).

“How come you were so nervous to tell me?” You ask him, gently, tucking his dark hair behind his ears so you can see his face better. “Were you thinking I’d react differently?”

He looks up at you wide-eyed, shakes his head- “No, no, I wasn’t worried about you reacting a certain way. I just… I’m just worried about what this’ll mean. You know. For us.”

“Us?” You echo, encouraging him to continue.

Eddie squeezes at your hips, presses the crown of his head against your collarbone like he’s mustering up the courage to speak. “Yeah, us. I know L.A. isn’t your dream- shit, I don’t even know if it’s mine- but you didn’t sign up to go on the road like this. You’ve got college to consider, and-”

“So I’ll take a gap year,” you interrupt, putting a hand to his cheek to make him look at you again, and when he starts to protest, you talk over him. “No, Eddie, I’m serious. I don’t know what the hell I wanna do with my life yet anyways. Following my hot rockstar boyfriend to a new town sounds like a pretty good deal to me.”

He shakes his head again, and you can feel his dimples spring to life under your hand as he teases, “Gonna be my little groupie?”

“And more,” you confirm, giving him a kiss (chaste, so as not to invoke any more ire from the grumpy other customers) and sliding off his lap to return to your own seat. “I’ll be your assistant extraordinaire, if you want. Or bodyguard. Make sure none of the other groupie chicks get too close.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, fondly. “You’re the only groupie I need, sweetheart.”

Settling back into your respective seats, you both work on the last basket of fries while chatting genially about the future. Eddie mentions getting an apartment in Los Angeles, so there’s less of a commute, which branches the conversation into the logistics of a cross-country move, and then on to more important topics such as the alleged coolness of west-coast parties.

“Who’s your celebrity hall pass?” you ask, out of pure interest, dipping a fry into the well of ketchup. “Like, say you’re rubbing elbows at some famous muckety-muck’s party and someone catches your eye. Who’re you taking back to the motel for a slutty roll in the hay?”

Eddie snickers at your phrasing, then says, “I mean, preferably, my super hot girlfriend-”

You throw a fry at his head. “That’s such a cop-out answer. In this hypothetical, Joan Jett is in red leather petting up on you and you’re saying you wouldn’t take her up on a one-night stand?”

A laugh bursts out of Eddie, a real, proper one where he throws his head back. “Are you actively encouraging me to hook up with some bimbo at a random party? Without you? Unlikely scenario on all fronts, babe.”

This earns him another launched fry, and he squawks, trying to shake it out of its place caught in his hair as you reprimand him- “Joan Jett is not some bimbo, watch your mouth! And what I’m saying is, if you didn’t at least try to score us a threesome with her, I’d be pissed.”

“Okay, baby,” Eddie soothes you a tad derisively, likely a ploy to avoid more flying food- “if I meet Joan Jett I will do my level best to get her in our bed. Scout’s honor.”

He holds up two fingers and wiggles them obscenely, grinning when you laugh again. “All right, Nosey McGee. Who are you taking home from the party?”

You hum, eyes flicking up to the ceiling, contemplating the options. “I guess I could be talked into a night with Kirk Hammett.”

Eddie’s turn to launch a fry. “You slut,” he chuckles, “That was a way quicker answer than mine.”

“Okay, fine. If I meet Kirk Hammett, I promise to at least make a bid for threesome. Deal?” You extend your pinkie across the table.

Eddie loops his little finger into yours. “Deal.”

____

The memory of that cozy diner evening years ago fades as you shake yourself to the present.

You aren’t two highschool kids with lofty dreams, anymore- after Eddie’s recovery from all that Upside Down bullshit in ‘86, Corroded Coffin took off. Even though Paige didn’t end up coming through with any deals, Eddie and his bandmates fought like hell to get signed- and by the end of that year, a small record label in the heart of downtown Chicago had taken the bait.

Corroded Coffin turned out to be the best thing to ever happen to Arken Records; by the spring of ‘87, business was booming thanks to the help of Corroded’s debut album, The Banished Ones- their new single was a chart-topper for over 6 weeks. (Smash Hit magazine’s latest review was titled “Fresh Sound Rises from Dirt Nowhere.” You have the paper clipping saved in your ever-growing folder with “rockstar boyfriend!!!” handwritten in black ink.)

And in a few weeks, the band will set off on their first real tour, starting in Chicago and ending with a bang in an already sold-out show in Hawkins- Dustin, Steve, and the rest of the gang with VIP front-row seats, of course.

As much as you and Eddie have grown and matured in the past few years, the core of you both has remained the same. Eddie is still just as dorky, goofy, and caring as he always has been, while you’ve kept that tenacious spirit and quick wit that he fell in love with back in the early days of dating. Even now, with his popularity rising and his rockstar dreams on their way to coming true, Eddie constantly brings his focus back to you.

Pillow talks in cushy hotel beds, late night ramblings over post-show whiskeys, holding hands in the back of yet another cab- when he could be talking about the thousands of exciting things happening in his own life, Eddie is asking about you.

Did you talk to Robin last night, sweetheart? How’s ‘ol Birdie doin? What do you wanna wear to that dinner thingy tomorrow… could go naked for all I care. In fact you probably should because of feminism and all that. Did you sleep okay last night? Let me look at ya. You thinkin’ any more about those applications you got?

You’d taken a gap year to support Eddie, which you were happy to do, but with ‘87 drawing to a close, he’s been more insistent lately that you take a look at all your college options. Honestly, you’ve been enjoying the adventures that come with touring way too much to consider going back to the rigidity of school.

And plus, having the love of your life nearly bleed out in your arms in a parallel dimension has totally realigned your priorities. If folks thought you and Eddie were attached at the hip before…

He’ll likely argue you into academia, eventually. He always rolls high on persuasion. Damn him.

For now, you’ve got a party to attend.

Arken Records is playing host, on the last night of 1987- in celebration of Corroded Coffin’s success and to kick off the New Year’s festivities, they’ve rented out a house in east Chicago for the event.

Well, house isn’t the right word. More like mansion. Vaulted ceilings tall as a church’s, huge windows overlooking the Chicago river, a grand chandelier with flickering candles in nearly every room.

When you and Eddie had toured the place a few days previous, he’d made a joking complaint low in your ear about not having the time to fuck you on every surface. Your laugh had reverberated off the sweeping mahogany floorboards, mostly at the expense of Eddie’s poor publicist who’d happened to hear his comment. (Melanie had really been putting in overtime lately; you made a mental note to send her a very nice flower arrangement and vouchers for a spa trip.)

The party was in full swing by the time you and Eddie arrived, fashionably late, and he had been folded into the throng of other musicians and partygoers against his will pretty much immediately- which you’d expected. The last hour, he’s been throwing you piteous looks from his spot across the room, where he hasn’t had the chance to move an inch with the amount of people keeping the conversation going. You’ve slipped to his side a few times, refreshing his drink, letting him curl an arm around your waist as you perch on his knee, only half-focused on whatever story some producer is saying as Eddie’s hand trails up your thigh.

You’re back on the nearest wall again, sipping champagne, taking it all in. There are probably over a hundred people crammed into this banquet room, bass thumping through the floorboards, tables shoved to the outer corners making space for a makeshift dance space.

The air is hazy with smoke from various cigarettes and joints; as the night has progressed, the smell of freshly-applied cologne has been replaced with heady sweat as the dance floor calls more people to writhe and grind in groups and partners. Eddie is still stuck in the lone pod of living room chairs, surrounded by a rapt audience of people crammed in to hear him better over the blaring music.

He looks damn good tonight, in a cut-off black tee and his favorite ripped jeans, leather jacket hung on the chair behind him. Silver catches the light from every angle- on the chains at his hips, around his neck, glinting off his rings as he gestures animatedly mid-story. He’d asked you to do his eyeliner at the hotel earlier, and although it’s smudged and blurred at the edges now he’s still pulling it off. Tiny silver stars, hand-drawn with your eyeshadow brush, twinkle across his cheeks like freckles.

Eddie wanted to match with you, whined until you added a belt made of gold-plated stars to your outfit. You went simple, the gold to his silver- belt cinching your short black satin slip dress, delicate brass rings and bracelets around your fingers and bare forearms. The one piece of silver you are wearing is a chain around your neck, Eddie’s guitar pick nestled snug between your breasts.

You still resolutely refuse to wear heels, even after Eddie’s stylist cajoled you into practicing on stilettos for a disastrous media training session last month- tonight you’re in a chic pair of Mary Janes with the slightest suggestion of a heel. Compromise.

There’s a big laugh from the crowd in the corner again as Eddie knocks a hand into Gareth’s chest for emphasis, nearly knocking the younger boy off his seat. You stare unabashedly at Eddie’s forearms, biceps on full display; he’s filled out a bit since leaving home, his usually lean frame boasting a bit more weight and bulk now that he’s got consistent access to well-rounded meals.

He’s looking healthy, down right glowy. You’re thinking about that smattered trail of dark hair that slides down the crest of his stomach, now with extra padding enough to sink your teeth into. As if he knows, Eddie catches your eye from across the room and winks, cheekily.

You shiver and unconsciously press your thighs together, hiding your grin with another swallow of champagne.

The alcohol turns a bit sour going down, though, as a crimped-haired blonde girl worms her way to Eddie’s side, laughing a little too loudly at the joke he just told. When she places a manicured hand on one of his shoulders, the thin stem of your glass nearly snaps in your grip.

The thing about rockstars is they have crazy sex appeal. The thing about your rockstar is he’s only interested in you, something that has been proved many times over.

So why is tonight hitting you so hard? Why do you feel nauseous the longer Eddie lets some random woman’s hand stay on his bare skin when you know he’s going home with you, and only you?

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or the overcrowded room, or the memories of Benny’s diner still lingering like a bruise in your mind. Hard to pinpoint exactly. All you know is that jealousy is gnawing like a thing raw and seeking in the pit of your stomach, and if you don’t get out of this stuffy room soon you’re gonna do something tabloid-worthy, like cry in the middle of a New Year’s Eve party.

By the grace of some god you make it across the dance floor and into a side bathroom unscathed, the pulsing sound of the party blissfully dimming as you shut the door behind you. Your mind whirls as you grip the gilded sink for stability, blinking hard at the tears beginning to form.

You love having a boyfriend who’s larger than life. You love that he’s taking up space and getting to use that charm that was nurtured on the DM throne back in Hawkins. You’re so proud of him, you really are.

You’re just starting to hate the way other people’s surface-level love of him makes you feel.

Because that’s what it is, right? Just surface-level, you reason with yourself- the level of intimacy that you and Eddie have is unmatched, something that the newly-formed masses of admirers won’t ever get to experience.

Christ, can jealousy give you hives? You grab a handful of paper towels and soak them in cold tap water, then press the damp bundle to your chest, breath stuttering.

You’ve never been the jealous type, or the overbearing type- it’s a new feeling, and maybe that’s why it feels so scary. The more you try to tamp it down, the more it rears its ugly head, making you, in turn, feel embarrassed for having such a strong reaction in the first place.

It’s a vicious cycle that’s only seeming to gain speed as you realize you haven’t yet managed a full breath since coming to your hiding spot. Your lungs are pinched and burning as you drop the soggy paper into the sink, leaning into the lip of the porcelain to steady yourself.

There’s a knock on the door, and you choke out “Just a minute”, not sure if the person on the other side can even hear you over the music when Eddie’s voice leaks through.

“Baby? That you in there?”

Against your better judgment, you open the door, and he crams in the small space, locking it again behind himself.

“There you are, I saw you leave and thought you were getting a drink or something but then you didn’t come back and- are you okay?”

He interrupts his own stream of consciousness when he notices the state you’re in. You give him a trembly smile, waving a hand dismissively.

“Yeah, all good. I’ll come back with you, just needed to pee.”

Eddie is not so easily thrown off the scent. He murmurs your name, sliding his hand into yours, looking at you with a wounded puppy gaze- fuck, you can’t have a breakdown. Not here, not on New Year’s in some knockoff-Playboy’s bathroom.

And certainly not in front of Eddie, who’s asking you to tell him what’s wrong, what happened, with an increasingly pleading tone that’s really, really not helping your whole Don’t Cry agenda.

Hoping your voice doesn’t break, you clear your throat and pull your hand from his grasp. “Nothing happened, okay? I just had too much to drink, feeling overly sentimental or something. I’m okay.”

You think your white lie was convincing enough when Eddie reaches back for the door handle, that maybe he’ll rejoin the party and leave you to have a good cry, but after poking his head out the doorway briefly he grabs onto your wrist, tugging you to his side and hissing “Quick!”

And then you’re both making a break for it down the mostly-empty hallway, Eddie pulling you smoothly past a wall of expensive-looking oil paintings before going through a set of double doors that lead to the outside.

It’s December in Chicago, which means a light layer of snow covers the terraced garden that Eddie is leading you through, stopping at a stone bench flanked by two scraggly bushes.

“Made it,” he huffs with exertion, dropping your hand to shrug his leather jacket off in favor of draping it around your own shoulders.

“You’re gonna be cold,” you sniffle, partly from the tears, partly from the crisp night air.

“Yeah,” he agrees easily, wrapping you in a hug. You press your forehead to his chest. “Got my girl to keep me warm, though.”

You stay like this for a few moments, his arms solid around you, breaths coming easier as the familiar smell of his tangy skin and that spicy bar soap he uses fills your senses.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” he asks, gently, holding you at arm’s length to study your face.

When you shrug, unsure of where to start, he lets go of you and walks backwards, taking an unflinching seat on the snow-covered bench.

You gasp despite yourself, reaching to pull him up even as he twists out of your grasp- “Eddie, jesus, you’re literally gonna freeze your ass off. Get up!”

But he’s solid in his seat, widening his stance, boots planted on the ground- “I’m not moving until you tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, so you better start talking before my jeans freeze to the concrete.”

“It’s nothing,” you insist, but he’s giving you that look again, the one that cracks through the tough exterior every time, and you wrap your arms around yourself under the warmth of his jacket as you admit, “Okay, fine. It’s something. I’m just… having an overreaction.”

“To the shellfish?” he deadpans.

“No, asshole, to the blonde girl who was rubbing up on you earlier,” you snap.

Eddie blinks, genuine confusion in his voice- “There was a blonde girl… rubbing up on me?”

“She was petting your shoulder,” you continue, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the ground. “She was touching you, and I got- jealous, I guess.”

“Baby, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t remember her, at all,” Eddie emphasizes, spreading a palm flat against his chest in a gesture of sincerity, hair shifting across his shoulders as he cocks his head to the side.

His face is too familiar, too earnest for you to be able to say what you’re feeling without bursting into tears, so you turn on your heel, pacing a short loop in front of the bench, your breath hanging in misty clouds as you speak.

“It’s not even about her, necessarily. It’s about me and my stupid emotions. I’m not usually like this- jealous, you know? Like, I’m so proud of you, and everything you’ve accomplished, and I don’t mind sharing you, really I don’t, it’s just…”

You pause in your pacing, let your head drop back to look at the inky black sky pinpricked with stars, and your next words fall out like a confession.

“I just feel like I’m in mourning.”

You can feel his eyes on you still, as you loose the feeling that’s been caught tight in your chest. “It sounds so dramatic, when I say it like that. But I think that’s what it is. I miss when it was just the two of us, in this little bubble where no one knew our names and we just had each other.”

As the words leave your mouth, you scramble to explain, to soften the blow, hands tightening around your upper arms as you turn back to face the boy on the bench. “And I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, or, like, a total jealous bitch, because I really love you and I hope you know I’m not- are you laughing?”

Eddie tries his best to stifle the laughter into his fist when he sees how indignant you look. He rises from the bench, still a bit mirthful, pulling you back into his space. “Sorry, honey, I’m not making fun of you, I promise.”

You’re glaring at him now, and he ducks to kiss at the lines between your brow before pulling back and saying, “I think what you’re feeling is normal, and I don’t think you’re overreacting at all. Remember that asshole at the Smith Center party who kept trying to get your number right in front of me?”

“Vaguely.”

“I wanted to punch his lights out. Make a real scene, kiss you sloppy in front of some cameras.” Eddie cups your face in his hands, soothing his thumb against the wetness of your lashline. “What I’m saying is, I get jealous, too. And I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

“But…” there’s a well of emotions that you’re drawing from, and it’s not empty yet, one nagging thought still surfacing. “But these girls that are coming on to you, they’re like… really hot. I don’t look anything like them.”

Eddie frowns. “Are you seriously trying to make a case for yourself on the grounds of not being really hot? That’s not gonna hold up in court, gorgeous. I mean… have you even looked in a mirror recently?”

He lightly taps his knuckle against your head, trying to get you to crack a smile, but you’re not ready to give in yet.

“You don’t think you’ll get bored of me?” you whisper, dropping your eyes from his consuming gaze to the wyvern inked on the inside of his arm.

“Sweetheart…” Eddie sounds genuinely pained. The ink in his skin stretches as he slips a hand to the back of your neck, cold rings against your skin making you shiver. “I couldn’t ever get bored of you. Not in a million years. We've been through too much together for you to think like that, hm?”

He strokes his thumb down the column of your neck, those doey brown eyes on you again. “Now I’m not saying you shouldn’t ever be jealous, ‘cuz god knows it makes me hot under the collar when you are. But I’m sayin’ I never wanna make you feel like you need to earn me, okay?”

His thumb tracks back up to the hollow of your jaw, taps twice questioningly, and you nod, letting out a shaky, “Okay.”

When he kisses you, it feels like every other time- comfortable, grounding, familiar. His tongue presses against the seam of your lips, and you let him lick into your mouth, gripping at his arms, flushing hot as you give it back to him in spades.

With a short groan, he pulls back, a wet click as your mouths separate- “As much as I wanna jump your bones in this wintry wonderland, I think the snow might’ve actually frozen my balls off.”

You giggle, spanning your hands around the meat of his waist, kissing up into his mouth again- “Poor baby. Want me to warm ‘em up in my mouth?”

He gives a solid smack to your ass for that, his palm smoothing over the stinging skin with condescension when you yelp- “All dish and no take, baby? Not exactly fair.”

____

Despite your weak protestations that you both should probably rejoin the party, at least until midnight, Eddie insists on taking you back to the hotel.

“This party blows, anyways,” he says over his shoulder to you as he leads you back through the halls of the house. “If I hear one more Tears for Fears track I might throw myself into the river from one of the hundred balconies in this place.”

He manages to track down Melanie with some effort, winding his way through the throng of people to where she’d been chatting with a reporter, plucking at her elbow to get her away from the crowd and into the quieter hallway with you.

“We gotta scoot, Mel,” he tells her, really hamming up the charm as the young publicist widens her eyes. “Think you can get us a ride outta here?”

“Mr. Munson, you can’t just leave,” Melanie insists, frazzled. “Someone from Rolling Stone has been waiting for the last hour to talk to you, if you could just-”

“No can do.” Eddie shakes his head, mock-apologetic. “There’s been an accident. Of a personal nature.”

You manage to choke down your laughter as Eddie turns around to show off the dark stains on the back of his jeans. They’re just wet from the snow that he sat in earlier, of course, but it looks convincing enough to make Melanie blanch and pinch the bridge of her nose.

“I’ll have a cab out front in ten for you both. Please keep a low profile until then.”

Eddie gives a sharp salute and you mouth an apology at her before she retreats to find a phone.

Okay, so maybe add a hefty bonus to that Nice Things for Melanie list of yours.

____

One of the perks of having a rockstar for a boyfriend is the sweet digs- the label shelled out for Chicago’s finest penthouse suite; an entire luxurious upper floor with a private elevator, windows overlooking the far-below city lights, and a sunken bath big enough for two.

Also included? Soundproof walls.

A perk you’re very grateful for as Eddie walks you backwards into the room, sucking a mark with stinging teeth into your neck as you moan, then giggle breathily, admonishing- “Christ, Eddie, slow down. We have all night.”

Eddie pulls back just far enough to frown down at you, his hands slipping under the hem of your dress to squeeze at your ass. His rings are cold against your bare flesh, and he grins when you shiver. “Uh huh. Sure do have all night. You gonna take advantage of that?”

He wiggles his eyebrows, cheekily, but that smirk drops from his face in record time the second you shove him to the bed. As his knees give out in favor of sitting on the mattress, you steady your hands against his broad shoulders to swing yourself into his lap.

Eddie’s looking up at you, cinnamon eyes darkened with lust- it makes your stomach flip something awful. Your skin feels alight with heat as Eddie’s hands drip like water down your sides, then to your parted thighs.

You sigh into his mouth as his fingers trace the front of your underwear, the silk sticky with your arousal.

“Oh, baby,” Eddie says, equal parts admonishment and pitying as you squirm into his touch. “What’s got you this worked up, hm?”

He’s asking like he doesn’t know- like he didn’t tease you with filthy whispers and wandering hands in the back of the car the whole way here.

“Whaddya think,” you scoff, not quite ready to give in yet, enjoying the thrill of being cagey as Eddie hooks a finger to tuck your panties to the side.

He grins, simmering, enjoying the chase just as much as you. His middle finger swipes through your folds and you shudder in his arms, hands tightening into the meat of his shoulders as he brings the wetness up to your clit.

Eddie rubs quick, steady circles until you’re mewling, bucking hips grinding down to seek more friction. You can feel the wetness seeping out of your core, dampening his jeans as he licks back into your mouth, capturing the soft noises you’re making as he winds you up.

“Can’t believe a pretty thing like you has anything to be jealous of.” Eddie noses at the spot under your jaw, and when you let your head fall back on a hinge to grant him access, he sucks another mark into the column of your throat. “‘M all yours, sweetheart. You gonna take what’s yours?”

Truth be told, your mind went fuzzy the second Eddie got his hands on your clit, the consistent build of pleasure sparking between your legs rather distracting. You’d almost forgotten how the night had started, but you let the jealousy and possessiveness creep back in as you push at Eddie’s chest.

He goes down easily, toeing his boots off and lying flat on the mattress; big hands settle on your waist as you rest your weight into him, warm cunt pressing against the bulge of his clothed cock.

At a light drag of your nails against his bare chest and across his nipple, Eddie groans low, squeezing your hips and rucking into you.

“You’re all mine, Eddie, right?”

His pupils nearly eclipsing their soft brown irises, Eddie stares up at you like you hang the moon and stars every night just for him. “Yeah, sweetheart. ‘M all yours. Lemme show you.”

Eddie pulls at the backs of your legs, helping you shuffle up his body until your knees are dipping into the mattress at either side of his head. Your core hovers just above Eddie’s mouth- you can feel his breath speed up on the inside of your thigh at this new position.

“Oh, fuck, Eddie- jesus… christ,” the last word ending in a moan as Eddie’s tongue licks a wet stripe through your folds.

He pulls you closer with an arm over each thigh until you’re sitting on his face, his nose hitting your clit with each tilt of his head. You’ve got no idea how he’s able to breathe down there but you’re hardly able to hold onto that thought when his tongue has started plunging in and out of you.

Automatically, your hands shoot out to stabilize yourself- one hand goes to the headboard and the other ends up in his hair, gripping the roots hard. Eddie groans, sending vibrations that make your cunt clench around his lithe tongue.

“Like the taste of my pussy, baby?” you coo down at him, regaining some of your breath to give him attitude.

Reaching a hand back to palm at his cock, you say “No one else can have you like this, hm?”

Eddie catches your eyes as he mouths wetly at your clit, then sucks it into his mouth. Your thighs shake around his ears, your orgasm unfurling in clenching ripples.

“Oh, yeah, Eddie, fuck, I’m coming- just like that, fuck fuck fuck…”

He doesn’t stop suckling at you until you’re gushing around his mouth, then pulling him off by his hair to make him stop.

Eddie heaves in a breath, kissing at the inside of your thigh, his lips and chin shiny with your release. “God, baby. Such pretty noises for me.”

“Mhm.” You shuffle down until your hips are aligned over his, then lean in to lick his mouth clean. “Gonna make some pretty ones for me, now?”

After helping pull his shirt off, Eddie whines softly as you press kisses down his bare chest, and by the time your mouth is pressing over that dark trail of hair that leads into his denim, Eddie’s begging.

“Please, angel, please- need your mouth. Do anything for it, baby, please…”

You rub your cheek against his bulge before pulling back to pop the button on his jeans, then help him shift them down and off his body. Once his black briefs join the growing pile of floor clothes, Eddie’s completely bare and at your mercy.

He gets on his elbows to watch as you mouth at the inside of his thigh, dark hair splayed around his shoulders, chest heaving when you ignore his leaking cock in favor of grazing your teeth against a sensitive spot. “Fuckin’- christ, sweetheart. Come on. Please?”

“Sound pretty when you beg,” you say, mildly, kissing across his heavy sack, hiding a smile when the contact makes him jolt. “Gonna do it some more?”

You keep eye contact as you take one of his balls into your mouth, watching his own eyes roll back so far you can see the whites of them as you use your tongue on him.

“-yeah, baby, yeah- just like that- fucking, fuck, you’re killin’ me…”

Eddie sounds wrecked already, and a hot flush of pride courses through your body at the knowledge that he could come from just this and it’d be you getting him there.

You mouth over to the other side of his sack, rolling the skin wiry with coarse hair against your tongue as Eddie moans above you. When your hand wraps around the base of his cock, starting to move in tandem with the pull of your mouth, Eddie makes a noise like he’s been punched.

A line of drool breaks and hits wet against your chin as you straighten up, settling yourself into the V of his legs and using his thighs as handholds while you begin to kiss up the line of his leaking cock.

He’s got a gorgeous dick, truly. Thick and long, curving slightly to the right, a pretty blue vein snaking up the underside that you lathe your tongue against, seeking out the salty brine at the ruddy head.

Eddie moans, brokenly, white-knuckled hands twisting into the sheets. When your mouth closes around the tip, his elbows give out, leaving him flat against the mattress as you work his length further in.

“Oh my god. Oh, fuck, baby. Please don’t stop. Please. Y’feel so good…”

You hum around the stretch of him in your mouth, relaxing your throat to draw him in a bit more. The spiky jealousy from earlier really is your biggest motivator here; covetous, you’re thinking back to all those first times with Eddie- trembling hands under your bedsheets back in Hawkins, stilted voices and giggles to cover up the awkwardness of trying to learn the other person’s body.

No one will ever know him like you do. No one will ever have all that shared history, those fumbling nights that slowly turned to lovesick days; memories of him on his knees for you, learning all the little things that make you tick, memorizing the song of your body.

The boy is all yours.

Your throat automatically constricts at the intrusion of Eddie’s cock slipping past your soft palate- his hips cant up, which you can hardly fault him for, patient as he’s been with your retrospective and teasing.

Before he can apologize you’re sitting up, wiping at the excess drool with the back of your hand and shucking your dress over your head, letting it and your belt fall to the floor with a soft clunk.

Eddie reaches for you again as you slide your panties down and off, and you let him help you up his body, your knees coming to rest alongside the lightly raised scar tissue at his sides. You stroke a hand down his chest, giving in to a moment of softness before seating yourself fully in Eddie’s lap.

His hands snap to your hips, a near-brutal squeeze as you sink onto his cock. The stretch is always an adjustment, but you’re so wet right now that he slides in easily, a breathy moan from the both of you as the walls of your cunt fit snug around his sizeable length.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” The crown of Eddie’s head is pressed back into the bed, veins in his taut neck on full display as your hips start to swivel, blunt nails scraping into the soft flesh of your waist. “Just like that, sweetheart. Fuck me.”

With your knees planted on either side of his body, you begin to bounce in steady, rhythmic earnest, going for gold, the desire to bring your boy to the babbling edge overtaking every other thought.

“Feel so good, Eds, so big… can barely fit…” There’s a wet squelch accompanying each bounce now, slick dripping down to the base of his cock, your vice of a cunt flexing with every movement.

“S’all you, baby,” Eddie rasps out, toes curling in the efforts to keep his orgasm at bay for awhile longer. “Got a perfect pussy. Takin’ me so well.”

He’s almost in delirium territory, with you chasing after that bright unwinding pleasure at both of your cores; your hips stutter, hands flat on Eddie’s chest to center yourself, a hunger that you can’t seem to satiate gnawing at the edges.

Eddie notices immediately, feels the falter in your motion and brings his hands to your forearms, rubbing a path up them soothingly- “What’s wrong, angel, hm?”

You’re not sure how to put it into words, wishing (not for the first time) that you could just rest your forehead against his and transmit all the complexities of your emotions through touch alone.

Instead, you sigh out the name that you use when you’re done with taking, a name that lights Eddie up from head to toe as you say it- “Teddy.”

In one swift movement, Eddie slips an arm behind your back and flips you to the mattress, his hair a curtain around both your faces as he leans in to whisper against your mouth- “Teddy’s got you. Arms around me.”

You’re quick to obey, looping your arms around Eddie’s wide shoulders. He slides one hand up the back of your leg, pushing a knee up until it’s at your chest, mouth dropping open briefly when the new angle allows the head of his cock to kiss against that gummy upper wall of your cunt.

“Bored of you,” he huffs, recalling your words from earlier with disdain. “You’re talkin’ to the guy who memorized the first six chapters of The Hobbit just to recite for your bedtime.”

A quick thrust of his pelvis into yours has your stomach clenching in anticipation, brows on a tilt and knitting together as Eddie grins down at you. “Got a wicked attention span, baby. Lemme show you.”

He starts slow, agonizingly so, every inch of his thick cock dragging in and out, wetness pooling down your ass and probably the sheets, too; errant thoughts of housekeeping are rapidly erased as Eddie begins snapping his hips into yours in faster tempo.

He’s working to find that spot, the one that turns your brain to mush and is guaranteed to cause full-body muscle fatigue from the force of your orgasm. Your back arches off the bed, breasts pushing into Eddie’s chest, one arm still supporting your lower back as he laughs hoarsely, half-amazement and half-pride.

“That’s the spot, huh, sweetheart? Atta girl. M’all yours. Take it. Good girl…”

With each thrust, the wiry patch of hair dusted across Eddie’s pubic bone grinds slick and filthy against your clit. You’re so close to the edge now, a wave of pleasure cresting as you look up at Eddie.

There are two thin tracks of black makeup trailing down his face from where tears have made a mess of his eyeliner; rosy spots of flushed color in his cheeks, eyes like twin pools of chocolate, locked with yours as he rocks into you.

He’s learned the song of your body so well, knows every chord to strike- his hand leaves your leg to grasp at your breast, calloused palm against pebbled nipple sending more shockwaves through your body, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you sing for him.

“All yours,” you gasp out, and it feels like victory when his hips stutter and the cresting wave crashes around you both at the same time.

The pleasure roils through your gut, clit throbbing and cunt spasming around Eddie’s cock as he spills into you.

A wrecked, broken string of moans leaves you as you ride out the highs together. Eddie presses his forehead to your collarbone as he chants your name, twitching out the last of his spend, warmth blooming inside.

The quiet that follows is filled with shaking breaths, soft kisses, murmurs of “good job, sweetheart” as you both float back down to earth.

Eddie stays in you for longer than usual, his draped weight a grounding comfort as you trail gentle fingertips up and down his skin, lovingly against the scars that interrupt the smooth flesh of his back. Through the closed windows, you can hear the distant sounds of car horns and the deep boom of fireworks.

Sometime in the last foggy hour of lovemaking, 1987 has given way to a new year.

Eddie pulls his heavy head up from your chest to press kisses to your collarbone. “Happy new year, lover.”

You tuck his hair behind his ears, hands squishing lightly at his cheeks to bring his face close enough for a kiss. “Happy new year to you. Hell of a way to kick it off.”

Eventually, Eddie extricates himself from the intoxicating heat of your body (with minimal whining) and brings a warm washcloth to tenderly wipe away the mess between your thighs. Once you’re both cleaned up, he stretches out against the sheets, pulling the covers up as you hook a leg around his waist and snuggle in.

“So I was thinking,” he starts, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “I wanna take a trip back to Hawkins. Before the tour.”

Your hand stills in its rhythmic circles against Eddie’s chest; heart in your throat, you tilt your chin up so you can gauge Eddie’s reaction. “...yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie picks up your hand on his chest, twining his fingers with your as his other hand settles on your bare hip beneath the sheets. “Could visit Wayne for a few days, fool around in that twin bed like we’re teens again.”

He grins at your giggle, taps playfully at your hip- “Gonna parade you around all our old haunts. You’ve gotten even hotter since we left, babe. Gotta really rub it in the faces of those Hawkins Tigers burnouts whose best dates are their own left hands.”

You snort, and Eddie looks pleased again, but then sobers a bit before saying- “I mean, I’ve got my piece of home with me. But I think it could be good, to visit. Just the two of us.”

You’re quiet for a moment, a longing for home that you’ve managed to ignore these past few years resurfacing. “Can we get high and go to that diner? I mean, Nell’s isn’t as good as Benny’s was, but I’ve been craving a Hawkins milkshake.”

“Christ.” Eddie hides his smile in the crook of your neck, dimples springing to life. “You could ask for the Mona Lisa and I’d find a way to get it to you. Fries and a milkshake, that all I need to keep my girl happy?”

“Yeah,” you reply, a contented noise as Eddie settles against your chest again. “That’s all I need.”

___

thank u thank u for reading if you made it this far have a little kiss from me to you <3 xx lulu

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie

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dolene · 8 months

Text

MUSE TO MY MELODIES!

pairing: charles leclerc x singer!reader

summary: from all the great melodies, there is the artist and her muse who's doing the work.

content warnings: her face claim is laufey, supportive bf charles, she has a sister, cursing (but just for a bit)

yourusername

liked by radvxz, phoebebridgers, and 217,190 others

yourusername guess where am i (slide 3)

show all 15,582 comments

landonorris the king of atlantis's museum

⤷ yourusername good answer but no

⤷ landonorris oh cmon😔

phoebebridgers that fit chic is so brocolli core

⤷ priscillawesley More like an e-coli core

⤷ yourusername WATCHA MOUTH -nicki minaj

logansargeant Florida, wasn't it?

⤷ yourusername no americans allowed

⤷ logansargeant Ouch 🤕🤕🤕

⤷ yourusername kidding, but yeah you got it so 100

⤷ username Y/N IS IN FLORIDA & POSSIBLY W LOGAN 🦅🇺🇲🇺🇲🇺🇲🦅🦅🦅

radvxz I love the slide one and two... But then there's three existing 😔

⤷ yourusername that is literally the point

username She just randomly there and Pris is taking the pics

⤷ yourusername she's a lifesaver 😇

⤷ priscillawesley Surely I am. Imagine her posts without me😎

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, scuderiaferrari, and 469,661 others

charles_leclerc Strolling around Rome

show all 16,437 comments

carlossainz55 suddenly i'm into bossa nova

username YES HER CONCERT IN ITALY BEGIN

username y/n typical red shoes fit is always hits no matter what

username Charles, you sure it aint Pris who took this

⤷ priscillawesley He should be grateful I have a class today

username mm i smell new album announcement

⤷ priscillawesley Keep being delulu, honey

⤷ username 😭😭😭

username ALBUM ANNOUNCEMENT WHEN???

username it's been so long i memorized typical of me in one go

username PLS PLS COME TO BRASIL

⤷ username no she gonna come to grammy first and announce her new album js like taylor would do

⤷ username WHTS WRONG W YALL AND HER NEW ALBUM??????😭😭😭😭

username charles and y/n collab when?

⤷ username he should be featured in her new song

⤷ username Pris as a violinist and Charles as a Pianist, what a combo!

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, sebastianvettel, and 680,536 others

yourusername i've never done anything so fast like this before

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username Y/N WHAT😭

lewishamilton direct offense to you charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc Oh this is just so low

username i know how his cooking gonna end up, so i'll be her if i were there

username That emoji gonna say that "i'll make u my pasta disaster, honey"

username idk why is she even post this but this is definitely hilarious 😂

priscillawesley But I can't lie, that looks really delicious

⤷ yourusername the art of rush cooking is just so😌👌

username EVEN SEB LIKING THIS BC HE KNOWS

⤷ yourusername even i was surprised😭 i didn't expect this at all

⤷ charles_leclerc Same

yourusername

liked by reneerapp, honeymoon, and 592,551 others

yourusername look at my facebook mom boyfriend 😚😚

show all 22,619 comments

charles_leclerc Is this a flattery or a mock?

⤷ lilymhe Flattery definitely

reneerapp why did u take this?

lilyzneimer 😂😂

username facebook mom charles is confirmed a long long time before this event even happened

⤷ yourusername this was truly a canon event

username but whys he looking so good tho

username What is he taking picture of?

⤷ username HES SHOWING THEM HER NEW ALBUM

⤷ username them in meaning is no one

⤷ username his camera roll is filled with him and the empty space

scuderiaferrari At least he's fashionable 😉

⤷ username is fashionable at the room with us?

yourusername added a photo to their story!

caption: hehe 😉

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

liked by xtina, charles_leclerc, florencepugh and 759,100 others

yourusername charles said it's a ✨picture-dump✨

show all 956 comments

landonorris i can't unsee what i see

maxverstappen1 Enjoying your meal by yourself, Handsome?

⤷ yourusername wrong person, sorry

priscillawesley Charles, what are u talking about? It's obviously a memory-burn 🙄

⤷ yourusername no, and we've talk about this before

username what is that strawberry with a head on

⤷ username y/n for x men is real

username okay now say whoever stick that head into the poor strawberry

radvxz Oh no...

taylorswift I'm living for the aesthetics.

⤷ username TAYLOR WHAT'S THE AESTHETICS IN THIS??

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, normani, sza, and 1,529,807 others

yourusername after a long while of waiting and teasing, the cat has finally out of the bag! and i present this to all of you.

Bewitched out February 13th! 🤎🤍

show all 45,239 comments

radvxz 😭😭😭

username WE'RE NOT CLOWNING ANYMORE

sza CAN'T WAIIITTT

username WE ALR GOT THE VINYL???? best moment of my life

charles_leclerc 😚🥰

⤷ username i'm forever gonna live for supportive bf charles

arianagrande soo excited!!

username finally the album we're deluluing is real

lola.tung AHHHH amaaaazingg

maisiehpeters big year for witch girls 😭♥️

amandarachlee omg u look amazing

username Okay now where can i listen this on orchestra?

jeremyzucker GO Y/N!!!!

landonorris was listening to your song until you distract me with this🙄😌

username she said worry no more, i got u covered *wink*

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc instagram au #charles leclerc x y/n #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 smau #duhyork's artwork ৎ

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sandwhitches · 2 months

Text

request: "can i have an orange and cherry popsicle (hurt/comfort) w suna where he accidentally snaps at reader ??? u can decide how it ends exactly but id like it to be fluffy :3"

𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 (𝐟𝐭. 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨)

a/n: u already know i’m going the fluffy route :3 had to repost bc im stupid and forgot tags the first time whoopsies!! also i was like not gonna put a banner on all of these but i don’t think i can physically make a post without one they’re so cute eeughhhh

genre: angst w/ a fluffy ending (hurt/comfort)

warnings: language, gn. reader, teeny argument, mentions of accidentally missing a meal

wc: 779

this is a part of my summer writing event!!! please feel free to send some requests my way :3

In theory, bad days happen just as much as good days, but every once in a while there is a particularly bad day that will fall onto your lap when you least expect it. That’s what today was for Suna. Particularly bad.

This morning he’d rolled out of bed thirty minutes late, nothing too out of the ordinary for him, which is why he’s well versed in rushing a shower and scarfing down enough sustenance to last him until the afternoon. Traffic on the way to early morning practice? Been there, done that. Hours worth of conditioning? A little bit annoying, but it's not the first time that’s happened. Losing track of time and forgetting to eat lunch? Kinda sucky. Walking to his car to find a terribly noticeable door ding on the passenger’s side? Really sucky.

Suna happened to have compiled an impressive list of minor inconveniences to combine with the other stack of shit, and it all adds up to the very worst part, taking it out on you.

It was just an innocent question on your behalf about the dent in his car, “And you’re gonna have to pay?” You frowned sympathetically, watching in confusion as his expression turned completely to a sour contortion of a scowl, “Obviously, I am, the other car was gone by the time I came out.” He huffed in agitation with a superfluous roll of his eyes to seal the deal.

You sputtered, brow tensed, “You don’t have to get so defensive.” Rintaro had groaned in response, tilting his chin, “Well what kind of a stupid question is that when I already told you what happened?” His breath caught in his throat with instant regret as you set your jaw tight with frustration, there was no doubt you were holding back a return that would only escalate what’s already been blown out of proportion. You stormed off, leaving Suna with the feeling that he quite possibly might be the biggest idiot in the world.

As of now, you’ve only had the chance to be alone for a few minutes, taking your anger out by completing your most aggressive attempt at folding laundry to date. Suna knocks on the doorframe of your bedroom to announce his presence, you turn around to find him nervously thumbing at the meat of his palm, a guilty expression.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, looking up at the shift in your expression to gauge whether or not he was about to have a t-shirt thrown in his face. Who was he kidding? You’re the most understanding person he knows and he was stupid enough to snap at you. Suna thinks, in that moment, that there will never be anything big enough for him to get mad at you for again. Nothing feels worse than being like this, not even waking up late, nor conditioning, nor missing lunch, and especially not getting door dinged.

“I just-...” he blows out a breath that makes his cheeks puff up while he sorts through countless words, trying to find the right ones to fix things, “I had a really bad day, and I’m sorry it made me snap at you…I'm an idiot.”

“…You kinda are, huh?” Suna looks up to find that the echo of a grin has replaced the deep frown you had before, making the knot in his chest begin to loosen gradually. Rintaro huffs out a quiet laugh, “Yeah…”

For a moment, you thought there might still be something else in his mind with the way his eyes dropped, head swimming in thoughts. The question sitting on your lips was quickly replaced by a yelp as Suna steps forward, wrapping you in his big arms and collapsing onto the bed.

“I love you, you know that?” He declares loudly, taking every playful kick you really don’t mean as you giggle uncontrollably, “Get off of me, Rin!”

Suna snickers, kissing the crown of your head, “I can’t let go of you! Not until I make things right!” Your stomach already hurts from laughing as you writhe against him, feeling the lovely placements of tender kisses peppered across your face.

“Let go before I put another dent in your car!” You shout, earning a bout of laughter from your boyfriend, “Low blow! I’m still recovering!” Suna knows that today was supposed to be bad, and for the most part it really was. But right now he has you pressed up against him like this, he can feel the rise and fall of laughter in your ribs, he smells the powdery scent of your shampoo, and presses his face into yours as close as physically possible. Yeah, he thinks, bad days don’t really exist if they all end like this.

#suna x reader #suna rintaro #suna rintaro haikyuu #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarou #suna fluff #suna rintaro fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #☀️.summer event 2k24 #🍓.suna #if u saw this the first time i posted it no u didn’t

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thecapricunt1616 · 5 months

Text

Damiana (c.b. oneshot)

𝓢𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓽 (𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓑𝓣𝓒): “No. Just stay right like this. I can play with you, right?” He kissed your jaw gently, nipping at the sensitive part near your ear and soothing the sting with his tongue in a way that made you whine. “Yes. But I wanna feel good too” you said, voice needy already. It was quite embarrassing the effect he so easily had on you, he barely even had to try. “Oh of course princess, y’think I’d neglect my favorite toy? When have I ever left you without makin’ sure y’feel good mm?” He kissed the base your neck right at the top of your spine, spreading your thighs with his knee, your bodies flush together.

♡ O/S Inspo: Damiana (otherwise known as loveseed) is used to increase the intensity of sexual magick, increase magical energy, divination, dreams/clairvoyance, enhance pleasure and increase psychic abilities.

♡ Summary: You & Carmy wake up extra early on your day off for some reason, so he knows a good way to put you both back to sleep.

♡ W/C: 1,737

♡ Posted Date: 04/18/2024

♡ A/N: OMG Thank you all for 100 followers what the actual heck!!! I want to give each and every one of you a forehead smoochin, thank you so much for hanging out with me and supporting my work! As per usual my requests are alwayyys open! For Carmy x Reader & Carmy x Sydney I woke up today at the asscrack of dawn for no reason at all, and was hit with a strike of writing lightning!! Just in time for my 100 follower celebration :D!!! I hope you enjoy this smutty smutty goodness. Sidenote - Taylor is releasing an album tomorrow so I am bouncing off the walls of my iron cage and gnawing at the bars I'M SO READY!!!! ANYWAYS enjoy my friends <3

♡ Warnings for BTC: Unedited (we die like men!!!) Breeding kink, swearing, smut smut smut, fluffy needy Carmy, established relationship NO USE OF Y/N

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡

Early mornings with Carmy were your favorite. Well - the early mornings that he wasn’t jumping in the shower even before the sun had kissed the horizon. But these mornings.

You woke up this morning at 4:52 - it was Sunday, your favorite day. Carmy & your day. The Bear was closed, the single day a week that it was - so it meant your loving, wonderful husband could stay in bed with you until 3 if he wanted.

He’d told you many times before if you woke before him for some reason on your sacred together day, to wake him because he didn’t want to spend a moment without you - but for now, you watch.

It wasn’t often you saw your beloved man like this, fully at peace. Well, other then when he fucked you - but while awake he never fully looked this peaceful.

You carefully brushed his messy curls off of his forehead, dragging your nails across his scalp gently. You just couldn’t help it, you knew how much he loved it.

‘Mmm?’ He grumbled, his voice thick and low, husky with sleep.

“Sorry” you whispered, smiling a bit. You couldn’t help but think of a grizzly bear when he’d make noises like that. While he was in this half asleep - half awake state, he would grunt and huff and grumble, especially on Sundays.

Just like any other day, his internal clock was on time - and today - he has 0 alarms set.

“No ‘s fine been up” he said softly.

You kissed his forehead tenderly, the faintest bit of mint sticking to his breath from last night when he brushed his teeth before practically crawling to bed since he was so exhausted.

“Bear- it’s Sunday- go to sleep” you said, gently rubbing over his bare chest with your soft palm.

“Damn birds” he grumbled, causing you to giggle.

“Y’know it’s the boys, actually? Because the uh…the moms. They go out before the sun, to find breakfast. And the dads are - well. Scientists theorize - that the dads are calling the moms back to the nest, like an alarm the kids are up and hungry” you said softly.

He hums in interest, rolling on his side with his eyes still closed and gently kissing down your neck as you spoke

“All I heard was a really good reason we don’t have kids yet” he said, voice deep and thick with sleep.

“Yeah yeah ok Mr ‘im gonna make you a mom’ “ you imitated his horny raspy voice and he chuckled, snaking his hand under your shirt and rubbing over your stomach gently

“I am as soon as you take this fuckin thing outta y’r arm” he gently bites down on the inside of your bicep where your implant was, sucking gently, causing you to laugh.

“I swear to god - your hormones Carm, it's like you’re ovulating or something” you teased and he snorts a laugh into your skin

“Not my fault you make me horny in the morning” he reached up, palming your breast and squeezing gently

“You were horny before you woke up fucker, I feel you” you teased, wiggling into his bulge that was pressing into your ass firmly.

He moaned softly, rolling his hips into yours “Y’gonna help me out or do I have to go shower?” He teased with a grin.

You roll your eyes playfully “gonna make me work before the sun is even fully in the sky?” You asked and he chuckled a bit

“No. Just stay right like this. I can play with you, right?” He kissed your jaw gently, nipping at the sensitive part near your ear and soothing the sting with his tongue in a way that made you whine.

“Yes. But I wanna feel good too” you said, voice needy already. It was quite embarrassing the effect he so easily had on you, he barely even had to try.

“Oh of course princess, y’think I’d neglect my favorite toy? When have I ever left you without makin’ sure y’feel good mm?” He kissed the base your neck right at the top of your spine, spreading your thighs with his knee, your bodies flush together.

“Well there was that one time-“ you teased as he pulled his cock out

“Oh the one time I punished you f’r bein’ a brat.” He squeezed your hip and trailed his hand around your stomach, rubbing gently before dipping his fingers in your panties, finding your clit and humming in satisfaction when you whine hotly, arching into his frame further.

“Cause you were wearing those slutty gray sweatpants and every bitch in the grocery store was staring at your dick print” you counter, causing him to chuckle, the vibration coursing through you since you were flush to him like one being.

“mmmm and is that why you’re so wet, cause you’re thinkin’ about me wearing something slutty?” He teased rubbing slow firm circles in the way that made you writhe and squirm.

“Stop teasing before you nut all over my back” you smirk and he gasps, feigning offense.

“Someone is mouthy this morning” he moved the fabric to the left, rubbing his thick cock over your folds easily with your slick aiding him, moaning softly.

“Mmmm thank you” you rest your head back on his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. “Feels soooo nice.” You mumble as he slowly rolls his hips, the head of his cock teasing your clit just enough.

It wasn’t a full rub, not enough to make you cum for a while, but more a pleasant gentle massage. You felt his hand back on your stomach, rubbing short strokes up and down as he pants, in pure quiet bliss. That was something you adored about him- whenever you were in public, he was shy, quiet. So quiet. But when you were alone together- the man didn’t have an off switch.

Neither did you, but yours didn’t shut off in public, either. You did enough talking for the both of you, it was what drew him to you. The only time you made him more quiet, was when he was playing with you this way in the morning. You were pretty sure it was the time, his brain hadn’t fully woken yet - but he had one thought bouncing around like a DVD video logo his cock was achingly hard.

“I’m probably gonna fall asleep but you’ll wake me right?” You asked and all you got in response was a breathy ‘mmhmm’

He gently bit down on your neck, then your shoulder, then your arm, causing you to giggle and look back at him as well as you could “you wanna suck on it. Don’t you.” You teased, referring to your implant.

Another whiny ‘mmhmm’ and he rolls his hips a bit harder, causing you to moan as his tip ruts over your clit firmer

“So sweet.” You smiled lazily, closing your eyes once more and humming “I love this Bear y’make me feel so good” you said softly and he whimpers

“Fuckin’ hell y’too sweet. Lettin’ me play with you like this sweetheart, the sweetest girl” he praises, pushing the hair from your messy sleep off your forehead and kissing your temple.

“Cus’ y’the best husband” you laced your fingers together and held your hands over your stomach.

“Mmmm y’know I fuckin love hearin’ y’say that, right?” He rasps, hips getting sloppier and rougher as he got closer to his high.

“I do every time I say my husband on the phone you blush. It's the cutest thing that you’re still feelin’ like we’re on our honeymoon 2 whole years later” you kissed his hand sweetly.

“Cause I’m so fuckin’ lucky. Can’t fuckin’ believe y’agreed to take my last name babe. The way you say our last name is so fuckin pretty” he said, kissing your shoulder gently

“I feel so fancy with it. Mrs.Berzatto. Berzatto is so much cooler then my maiden name.” you said

“Fuckin hell sweetheart im so close can I please cum in you?” He begged, his voice needy and wanting

“Of course Bear Y’don’t need to ask” you said and he released your hand, placing his palm at the base of your abdomen and slipping in, filling you to the hilt.

You whimper, back arching slightly “mmm feel’so full” you mutter, gasping as he started a quick snap of his hips, jaw falling slack.

“It’s so fuckin hot that I can feel myself fuck you” he pressed his palm firmer into your abdomen, angling himself in a way to both feel himself better, but also slide perfectly against your gspot

“Yeah y’get so deep bear. Y’gonna fill me up? Y’gonna knock me up? Mmm?” You whine, your own orgasm approaching fast

“Fuck yeah I am princess sh-iiit. Fuck gonna make y’a fuckin mom” he grunts, spreading your legs further and reaching down to rub your clit making you clench around him.

He whimpers hips stuttering as he ruts into you, completely bottoming out trying to get as deep as he can as he empty’s his huge load into you, breathing hard and remaining still inside of you while he rubs your clit in quicker circles.

He could tell you were on the edge because of the way you were clenching and unclenching around his now overstimulated cock, he wanted to get you there so he could remain inside of you for a while.

“That’s it, my good girl. Thank you Angel, you took me so well. Y’can always handle whatever I give you it’s so fuckin hot. Now I’m gonna make sure y’re all taken care of, mmm? Just like I promised” he said softly into the shell of your ear before kissing your head gently.

“I’m cumming. I’m fucking cumming - oh- fuck-“ you whine, thighs shaking as some of your mixed arousal drips down his balls to his thigh.

“Gooood. Tha’s it, good girl” he praised, slowing his fingers to a slow rub as he worked you down.

“Mmm that was so nice Carmy” you hummed, looking back and kissing his lips lovingly.

“So nice princess. Thank y’for letting me” he kissed the tip of your nose gently “can I stay in a little longer” he kissed your jaw gently

“Course- I was actually gonna ask you to. I like falling asleep like this” you laced your fingers together holding your interlocked hands over your belly. “Y’so fuckin perfect” he mumbled into the skin of your neck.

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kaleidohscopic · 4 months

Text

SWEET — BBH

PAIRING: baekhyun x female reader SUMMARY: it's one thing to run into the guy you maybe, used to have a little bit of a thing for at your mutual friends' birthday party. it's another thing to find out he maybe, used to have a little bit of a thing for you too. GENRE: friends (ish) to lovers! au, romance, a hint of smut, some pining if you squint WARNINGS: swearing, alcohol consumption, jenkai (humour me), wayyyy too much sexual tension, it gets a little hot and heavy towards the end but nothing super explicit (bc idk how to write that stuff sorry!), general mature content and themes WORD COUNT: 4.4k NOTE: super self-indulgent w barely any plot or characterisation (basically four thousand something words of foreplay lol), i saw that video of baek at one of the lonsdaleite stops unbuttoning his shirt and it drove me a little loopy ngl...

The last time you had seen Byun Baekhyun was two years ago.

Graduation. Gowns. Bouquets. There was probably a photo of the two of you, along with the rest of your cohort, sitting around somewhere in the depths of your camera roll, fresh-faced and eager to take on the exciting new world outside of 3000-word essays and 9 am tutorials. Four years taking variations of the same courses and bitching about the same tutors meant you were far from strangers, but sadly, the friendship had dwindled once you’d left the classrooms for good — something you had been just a little gutted about. These days, his appearances in your life were rare, save for the times he’d come up in conversation with the friends you both shared back in the day, or his sporadic likes on your instagram posts.

Except now, of course, as you watched him climb up the stairs to the rooftop bar, gift bag in one hand and suit jacket in the other.

“Happy birthday!” he beamed, enveloping your best friend in a hug. The fabric of his shirt strained against the movement of his arms, and you caught a whiff of his delicious woody cologne as he approached.

You had known there’d be a possibility he’d show up today. This year, Jennie had made the enlightened decision to throw a joint celebration with her boyfriend, and obviously that entailed inviting all of his friends — which honestly, wasn’t even that many extra heads since Jongin only ever spoke to the same eight people. You’d seen Baekhyun’s name on the guest list that you had helped her put together, and seen it again listed under the ‘going’ tab of the event, but having the real deal in front of you was another experience entirely.

Crisp white button down with the sleeves rolled up, fitted slacks, and just a glimpse of his toned chest peeking out from where the top few of his shirt buttons were undone.

He looked fucking good.

Even better than he did two years ago.

Jennie squeezed him back with just as much fervour. “So glad you could make it! Jongin’s been stuck to my side all night with no one to talk to, he’s going to be so happy you’re here.”

He pulled back with a chuckle, and it was then that he finally laid eyes on you, seated next to the birthday girl, holding matching martinis, and doing your best not to look like you had been shamelessly checking him out for the entire 45 seconds since he had arrived. His eyes widened slightly with recognition as your name left his mouth.

“You haven’t forgotten each other, right?” Jennie laughed. The descent of his eyes down the length of you was quick, but not careless, and heat flared in your body all the same. When his gaze returned back to your face, the beginnings of an appreciative smile were shaping the curve of his mouth.

“Not yet, I hope,” he answered her, but his eyes were still on you. “Nice seeing you again. You look good.”

“So do you, Baekhyun,” you replied, because it was the truth. His smile only grew.

Jennie tipped back the rest of her martini and bade the both of you a hasty farewell, saying something about fixing up the photo zone as she hurried towards the other end of the rooftop. A few of the girls, too excited about the open bar, had knocked the cushions onto the ground, and were doing a poor job of rearranging them back on the wooden swing.

He slid into her now-vacant seat, elbows resting on the bar counter, giving you an excellent view of the shape of his forearms and the veins that adorned it.

“You’re not going to have that?” he asked, nodding at the sad little olive that sat all alone at the bottom of your empty glass.

“Not a fan of the saltiness,” you answered, and offered it to him. You watched as he plucked the garnish stick out of your fingers and put the olive in his mouth with no hesitation, eyes lingering a little too long on the movement of his throat as he swallowed it. “I like sweet things better.”

“Yeah, I remember,” he chuckled. “You used to only ever drink vodka cranberries.”

Suddenly, you were twenty-one again, peering through the cafe window and getting a little too giddy at the thought of meeting up outside of the stuffy tutorial classroom to work on the project you had both been assigned to. You’d be lying through your teeth if you said that a crush on Baekhyun was something you never entertained throughout your four years of university together. And maybe it had been reciprocated, for the briefest of times, just after that joint presentation on data structures, where the thought of stepping over from friendly more-than-acquaintances into something more had crossed your mind enough times for you to lose count. There had been something there, or at the very least a hint of something, in the nights spent crammed into a tiny library booth meant only for one person, poring over stale and tedious papers on algorithm organisations in each other’s company.

But nothing had happened. He hadn’t made a move, and neither had you, laden with the fear of rejection that was so indicative of youth. And maybe that had been a huge misplay on your part, because a few weeks after wrapping up the project that had brought you together, he was at your faculty’s monthly pub crawl, introducing you to his new girlfriend, who had actually asked him out just the day before.

Safe to say that had been the end of that. You were not the type to homewreck.

“How long has it been? I feel like I haven’t seen you since — god, it must have been graduation?”

“Something like that,” you replied through a smile. “I still have the photos on my phone.”

“So do I,” he said, flashing you a boyish grin. Then, as if doubting the accuracy of his own words, he promptly pulled out his phone and began scrolling towards the top, brows furrowed with determination. It was a few seconds later that he found what he was looking for, turning the screen towards you with a triumphant noise.

The picture had been taken outside the ceremony hall, set against the familiar sea of graduation gowns, but that was the only familiar thing about it. In the foreground stood just you and Baekhyun, not stiffly posing for the camera as you had been in all of the group shots that existed on your phone, but turned towards each other, faces bursting with elated smiles. Neither of you looked to be aware that there was even a camera on you. The you in the photo had your mouth half open in the tell-tale way it always did when you were about to laugh at the ridiculously corny jokes he loved to crack. His eyes were crinkled at the corners, partially from the glare of the sun overhead — the weather had been phenomenal for the usual gloominess of May — and partially in delight at your reaction, having cracked said joke.

“I’ve never seen this one before. Did you forget to Airdrop this to me on the day?” you asked, a joking accusation colouring your voice.

“My mum only sent it to me a whole month later. I didn’t even know she had taken these,” he said, zooming in to better see the expressions on your upturned faces. “We look so happy here,” he added, voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia.

“And young,” you agreed, but not without a sigh. The you of two years ago had yet to know the pains of having seven different bills to pay every month, and watching the money trickle out of your bank account like water from a leaking tap.

He gave you a gentle, teasing nudge with his elbow. “We’re not that old now. We could definitely still pass as twenty somethings.”

“That’s probably because we are still actually twenty somethings,” you countered with a laugh.

There was an unprecedented ease with which you fell into conversation with Baekhyun. Despite the considerable gap of silence between now and the last time you had seen him, there was nothing in his demeanour or your own that indicated just how much time had passed. It was rather comforting to see a face from your university days, and even better that that face was still as gorgeous as ever.

You watched as he flicked through a few more photos from the day, mostly of him and his friends from university — one of whom was the other main event of tonight — until he landed on a picture of him with his girlfriend. You recognised the photo, seeing as you had been the one who offered to take it. He had an arm around her waist while she carried a huge bouquet with a teddy bear sitting atop the arrangement.

“Didn’t I help you order that thing?” you asked, pointing to the flowers in her hand. He hummed in agreement, but didn’t say much else, scrolling through to the next photos with his parents, which had also been taken by you. They stood on either side of him, beaming with pride, and then there were a few after that with his girlfriend as well, the four of them all standing together and looking picture-perfect.

Perhaps the you of today would have chosen differently, found the balls to ask him out first — because what was the use in sitting and waiting around for the guy to make the first move? — and maybe you’d be the one in the photo instead, smiling up at the camera, an integral part of the family portrait. Maybe he’d be running his fingers across the inner curve of your wrist, instead of along the rim of the gin and tonic he had just ordered.

“She couldn’t make it today? Or was she not invited?” you asked, having not seen anyone walk in behind him. Although you hadn’t been paying much attention to anything else since he arrived, and if she had been here, you doubted she’d be all too pleased with how close your heads were, even if he was just showing you through his camera roll. With that in mind, you drew back slightly, just enough to catch the expression on his face twisted with an odd sort of surprise.

After a second or so, it melted into an easy-going grin.

“We broke up a while ago. A month or two after graduation, actually.”

Oh.

You and your big mouth.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know — I shouldn’t have —”

“Don’t be, it’s fine,” he reassured, waving off your clumsy apologies. “Things just didn’t work out and we weren’t right for each other. It was a pretty amicable break, all things considered. But now, I get to sleep however I want in my own bed, so I really can’t complain,” he added, fishing another laugh out of you.

“Nothing beats starfishing in your sleep after a long day,” you hummed in agreement. Wednesday nights in your bedroom after a full day of client meetings could attest to that.

Baekhyun took a slow sip, pulling the drink into his mouth with a contemplative carefulness, and weighed up his words before he spoke again.

“What about you? Still with Jinyoung?” he asked, tone light and regarding you with curious eyes. Without meaning to, you let out a groan, and his left eyebrow quirked with interest.

“Don’t even go there,” you half-grimaced, reminded of the fling you had towards the end of fourth year with the business major. He was pretty, and had been nice enough, but by the fifth time he blew off spending time with you so that he could track the world stock indexes, it had become pretty clear that the two of you were on different paths in life. The sex was okay, but it had not been enough to warrant any more than a few late night rendezvous. For all you knew, he was probably now a very successful investment banker with 90 hour work weeks and making a shit-load of money you could only dream about having.

You sighed, drumming your fingers against the counter. “Let’s just say, he was more interested in looking at his dividend yields than he was in me.”

Baekhyun’s gaze flickered over the rest of you again, taking in the ridges of your collarbone and the soft curve of your waist, the touch of his eyes hovering above your skin like a tangible thing. You tried your best to look unaffected, forcing yourself to remain still under the weight of his stare despite the way it was melting you down to your bones.

“He definitely did not have his priorities in order,” he said, once his eyes ended their journey and returned back to your face. “You’re much nicer to look at.”

His words settled beneath your skin, pulling a sweet warmth to your cheeks that slowly radiated through the rest of your body. You watched as his mouth curved around the rim of his glass again, and followed the path of the drink down the length of his throat.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were flirting with me.”

He rewarded you with a sly smile.

“Then maybe you don’t know any better.”

Christ. Those were definitely bedroom eyes.

Your lips parted again, though you had little idea as to the words which were preparing to come out of them. Forming coherent and decent thoughts proved to be a great struggle when he looked like he was undressing you with his eyes. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and you swore you could have crumpled right then and there if it hadn’t been for the bar stool underneath you.

“Baekhyun, you’re finally here,” said a giggly Jongin, suddenly appearing between the two of you with Jennie in tow.

The tension from seconds earlier dissipated as quickly as it had formed.

Someone (the birthday boy) had evidently made good use of the open bar to shed the self-imposed shell that came with introversion before the arrival of his friend. “I’m so, so happy to see you. We need to do some shots right now,” he said, now all serious, leaning over to peer at the drinks menu that he himself had signed off on.

Baekhyun was the first to break eye contact, turning to flash Jongin a fond smile. “Sounds like the best idea you’ve ever had,” he said, before downing the rest of his gin and tonic.

The birthday girl requested tequila shots, and the bartender was quick to supply, lining up four glasses and filling them with the clear alcohol that was a recurring character in all your worst hangover episodes. You passed them around, but not before turning back around to the bar for one more thing.

“And a vodka cranberry, please,” you added, catching the amused smile Baekhyun threw your way.

“For old time’s sake.”

It was approaching the early hours of the morning when the remainder of the party retired to the hotel suite Jennie had booked for the night. One of her chill, moody, late-night R&B playlists had been queued up and was playing softly on the speaker system in the living room — she had a playlist for every conceivable mood and situation — and you could just make out the melody of a Daniel Caesar song, quiet and soothing against the nighttime.

“Okay, you win,” Baekhyun conceded with amusement, sitting up to grab the soju bottle from your outstretched hand. “I’ve never had someone throw up on me, at least not on the first date.” He settled back against the pillows, bringing the bottle to his lips to take a small, slow sip.

“Thanks, but it’s a victory I’d rather not have. There’s no pride in knowing I’m the only person I know to have a guy spew all over my shoes within ten minutes of meeting me,” you said, leaning back and letting your hands sink into the plush comforter.

Some thirty or so minutes ago, you had found yourself in one of the smaller rooms of the suite, sitting across from Baekhyun with nothing but a few inches of egyptian cotton separating you. All night, you had felt his presence, whether it was the light brush of his warm fingers across the bare skin of your shoulder to grab your attention, or the weight of his stare from across the rooftop bar while you posed for pictures with Jennie and the rest of the girls. He had infiltrated your senses, occupying his own little space in the corner of your consciousness. Right now, having the whole of him so unobstructed before you, being the sole focus of his attention within the four walls of this small room — it was obvious that the alcohol wasn’t the only thing bringing a heady warmth to your face.

He levelled you with a careful look, and instead of handing the bottle back to you as he had done for the last thirty minutes, he set it onto the nightstand beside the bed with a soft clink. You raised a quizzical eyebrow at him.

“I think you should probably slow down,” he said, catching the curious tilt of your head. “Wouldn’t want you to do something you regret.”

You let a coy smile turn the corners of your mouth upward, shifting your weight off your hands and leaning towards him ever so slightly. “Trust me, I know my limits,” you said, and moved to grab the bottle.

The hand you placed on the top of his thigh to steady yourself as you reached over him was deliberate, and you failed to hide the deepening of your smile when you felt the muscles flex beneath your fingers. You also didn’t miss the dip of his eyes below the neckline of your dress as you hovered over him, only pulling back once the cool glass of the bottleneck was firmly in your grasp. The glimmer in his eyes, previously light and boyish, had darkened imperceptibly.

You were playing a dangerous game, and you both knew it.

Beyond the door, Jennie’s playlist had changed to something a little more sultry, Kehlani’s honeyed voice now floating among the sounds of the city from below. His gaze remained on you as you raised the bottle to your lips, tilting it back and letting the tartness of the grape soju fill your mouth.

The song wasn’t the only thing that had changed. There was a palpable shift in the room, a simmering heat gradually seeping into the atmosphere, brought on by your brazen touch. Still, he kept a safe distance, giving you the reins and the freedom to dispel the tension you had created.

Which you had absolutely no intention to.

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, relishing in the way his eyes immediately left yours to track the movement. “You know,” you began, turning the bottle over in your hands, “I used to have a bit of a thing for you.”

His eyebrows raised with interest, but there was also a hint of surprise layered beneath.

“Third year, that data algorithms project. I thought a lot about asking you out, actually,” you continued, watching as his face slowly took on a smile at your words. A soft laugh escaped those pretty lips, as if he was enjoying some private joke that you weren’t in on. Without meaning to, you leaned in, drawn to the sound, wanting to understand the amusement behind it.

“You wanna know something?” he asked, to which you weren’t sure if you had actually nodded, or if you had only imagined that you did, too preoccupied by the inviting curve of his mouth.

He was all too willing to comply with the unspoken request behind your curious eyes, moving forward at a languid pace, until his lips hovered just over the shell of your ear, not quite touching, but close enough that you could feel the fluttering pull of air with each of his inhales and exhales. You could smell him too, his cologne now infused with the scent of his skin over the course of the evening, smooth and sweet, and much too dizzying.

His cheek brushed yours for a fraction of a second before you registered the conspiratorial whisper in your ear.

“So did I.”

You hadn’t even realised your own eyes had closed until they were fluttering open with his departure from your space. He pulled back, eyes gleaming with a furtive satisfaction like he had just let you in on some big, juicy, forbidden secret. It took a while for your chest to start pulling oxygen back into your lungs again. How he could render you so breathless when he had barely even touched you — you would’ve been embarrassed if not for the foggy warmth circling your head and radiating throughout the rest of your body, leaving you oblivious to everything but the sheer force of how much you wanted him.

He reached for the bottle, now almost empty, and you fought the flinch when you felt his fingers close around your hand. This time, you didn’t complain when he removed it from your grasp and set it back on the nightstand. The warmth of his hand did not leave yours, flipping it over to trail his fingers lightly across your knuckles.

“These are pretty,” he murmured, thumbing at the rings decorating your fingers. You could only manage a noncommittal hum in response. His touch had stolen your voice right out of your chest, along with all the rationality usually contained inside your mind, leaving you with nothing but the feeling of your own blood thrumming in your veins, hot and fast beneath your skin.

All night, you had danced around each other, stealing furtive glances and exchanging flirty smiles, carefully toeing around the edge of politeness and propriety. And maybe Baekhyun was just too polite, too respectful, letting you take the wheel and steer tonight in whichever direction you wanted, despite the want that was so clearly etched on his face.

Surely, your face was a mirror of his own. Surely, he could tell.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, looking up at you with heavy-lidded eyes, unfurling your fingers to lace his own through them. The press of his warm skin against yours had you light-headed and almost delirious, but you forced your gaze to stay steady on him while you tried to find your voice again.

“I’m thinking,” you began, low and breathy, “about how you’ve been eye-fucking me this whole night.”

His sharp inhale was unmistakable above the quiet of the room. A meteor could have landed right outside the building and you wouldn’t even have noticed, held captive by his dangerous touch and the hunger flaring in his eyes.

“And,” you continued, “how I’ve been waiting for you to do something about it ever since you shut that door.”

The second after the words left your mouth seemed to stretch across an eternity. You watched as he registered them, transfixed by how his whole body seemed to cloud over with desire, pushing out any remaining trace of restraint.

One moment you were sitting on the bed, revelling in the delicious tension you had created, and the next he had pulled you flush against him. His mouth was on yours, hot and needy, the self-control he had been so meticulously keeping to for the entire night disappearing the instant he felt your lips move against his own. You were no better, hands leaving his to fist desperately at the fabric of his shirt. An airy moan left your throat when his tongue brushed against yours, letting you taste the sweetness you had been imagining ever since you laid eyes on him on the rooftop. He swallowed the sound, the plump flesh of his bottom lip tightening into a pleased smile at your reaction.

Baekhyun pulled away first, lips leaving yours to trail across your cheek and down the side of your neck, where you felt the light graze of his teeth over the skin, and then the wetness of his tongue following the same path. His hands had snaked around you, fingers digging into the curve of your waist, keeping you in place while he nipped at you, drawing stilted gasps out of your parted mouth. When he pulled the flesh into the warmth of his mouth and sucked it to a nice, dark bruise, the heat coiling in the pit of your stomach flared, violent and hungry.

You were going to lose your mind.

“You know, you could just try again,” you managed to get out between heaving breaths. “Ask me out.”

“Would you say yes?” he asked, and you felt his lips shape the words against your skin. They dragged back up the column of your throat, capturing your mouth again with another heated kiss that had your head spinning. He shifted, and your knees came to rest on either side of his leg, the firm muscles of his thigh pressing against the part of you that ached for his touch. In the haze of this moment, you didn’t know much, but you knew you would’ve said yes to absolutely anything to come out of that sweet, tempting mouth.

Still, you played along, letting a devious smile pull the corners of your mouth upwards. “That depends on how tonight goes.”

He drew back slightly, fixing you with a wicked look that held promises he was nothing short of determined to fulfil. You could see yourself reflected in the darkness of his blown-out pupils, flushed and already wrecked just from the attention of his mouth. Anticipation and thrill jolted through you like lightning, zipping through every cell in your body as your mind drifted to what he might have in store behind those enticing eyes.

You weren’t left wondering for long. His hands left your waist and moved to your calf, pushing up the silken fabric of your dress as they slowly crept upwards, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The brush of his fingers against your inner thigh drew another shuddering breath out of you.

His next words were not unlike an oath.

“Then I’d better make tonight fucking spectacular.”

#baekhyun #exo baekhyun #byun baekhyun #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun smut #exo x reader #baekhyun fanfic #exo smut #baekhyun au #baekhyun fluff #kaleidohscopic works

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polarisbibliotheque · 9 days

Text

Vergil and his s/o training together

Or Vergil and his s/o spar for foreplay fun!

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: With your sword recently broken, Vergil gave you a new devil arm to get used to. He is also your mentor when it comes to fighting - but being his lover doesn't mean he's going to go easy on you. Quite the contrary.

Restrictions: None, BUT I should tell you: lots of sexual tension in this one. What can I say, Vergil is a weird guy, sparring with his lover does things to him. Nothing explicit though, you know how I roll. Also, reader gets bruises from training/sparring. He's rough and doesn't hold back, I mentioned it before I think Vergil has this "only the strong survive" mentality, and I do think he gets ruthless as a sign of respect for his lover's abilities rather than anything else.

Author's Notes: I blame @yanderebishforlevi for this one after they dropped an ask I just answered :) I'm focusing on the Halloween specials, but that made me go through my unfinished, discarded, short stuff on limbo and rehash/put it together to post something new here.

Simple stuff, not really much of a story, just some training with sexy, bared arms, ruthless, emotionally constipated man. That's why I never thought about posting, it felt like it was missing something a plot so I was going to put it in Nemesis but, oh well. Hope you guys like it xD

“We’re done for today.”

Vergil’s words sounded final, as he lowered the Yamato after a devastating blow that had you tumbling back and struggling to fall on your knees – scraping them in a way you would have some bruises to display for a couple of days at least.

“Given it’s my training session, love…” You growled while pulling yourself back on your feet, using your sword as a crutch for help. Vergil observed you with those cutting silvery eyes, almost as if questioning your resolve to pull yourself up. Again. “I say when we are done. And I am not done.”

“You are being terribly stubborn, that is.” Vergil had Yamato back in its sheath, arms crossed while curiously watching you take your coat off, having only your training clothes underneath.

“Well, at least we got that in common, Dark Slayer.” You carefully watched as Vergil mirrored you and took off his own long coat, leaving his arms bare for the first time that night. He only did that when he was about to get rough during training – and you had to huff a laugh. “I’m only standing down when I master this damned sword, and apparently I’m not even close to that.”

“You are closer than you were when we started.” He took a deep breath, already choosing a fighting stance since you were doing the same – walking slowly in a circle, observing him with a pair of predatorial eyes. Vergil was used to be under that scrutiny around demons, but when it came to your eyes, they were threatening… And bewitching.

“And I would be even closer, if you hadn’t been cheating this whole time.” You narrowed your eyes, allowing a smirk color the corner of your lips as Vergil froze in place – you could even bet he stopped breathing for a fraction of a second.

“Cheating…?” His voice was dangerously low, words alarmingly taking their time, savoring every syllable of that little word. You knew you had struck a nerve – but, in your defense, Vergil had been striking your nerves ever since you started training a few hours prior.

It had been a couple of weeks you had a new sword in your inventory: big, heavy, resembling a claymore. Dante and Vergil had killed one particularly powerful demon that ended up becoming the sword now in your hands: brimming with demonic power, ready to be wielded to bring doom to its enemies. You had your previous sword broken into shards while protecting Nero during one of your jobs – a story for another time – and Vergil thought the claymore of sorts would be a nice replacement.

A new weapon, though, meant a lot of new things: new grip, new balance, new weight, new powers… So much to master, but you had to learn soon in order to keep up with your devil hunter job. Halloween was approaching and, given how chaotic the last few years were, you had to at least master the basics soon enough.

Vergil, being the thoughtful partner and lover of knowledge that he was, offered to help you train and master your new sword – all his arcane teachings would surely come in handy when dealing with a devil arm.

You had a problem, though. Learning and mastering things on your own was almost a given, and you always expected to do it at your pace – meaning, you didn’t have much patience to not be at least good and easily fighting after a few hours of practice. With a mentor like Vergil, though, that process was taking double the time.

He was relentless. You being his lover just meant he would go twice as hard on you – in his dictionary, it probably meant how much he adored you; but in your dictionary, you were absolutely and infinitely vexed that, by now, you hadn’t been able to at least get to a tie with him.

And that was something you always proudly said you could do.

“Yes. Cheating.” You held your sword with only one hand, throwing it behind your body and having your eyes fixed on your lover. That way, when you or him decided to attack, you could use all your strength to lunge forward. “You got exponentially worse every time I lost and got back on my feet again; you haven’t made it easier nor remained with the same level of fighting from the beginning. You are making it more difficult for me. If you hadn’t, I would’ve already had my sword on your throat by now.”

“Tsk.” You smiled as Vergil finally had that nonchalant attitude, but his eyes burned like the coldest circles of Hell. With a swift move, he unsheathed the Yamato and attacked you – as you had already prepared before, you threw your sword forward, immediately able to parry. He quickly tried another attack, but you managed to grip your sword with both of your hands and hold him back. You found Vergil’s silvery eyes staring at you sharply between the blades of your swords. “Don’t expect demons to have mercy just because the sight of you eclipses even the moon herself.”

“If we weren’t sparring, I’d take that as a compliment.” You had a small laugh hidden amidst your words, clearly seeing the shadow of a smile Vergil tried to conceal before he pushed you back with only half of his might – still having you stumble back and use whatever energy you had left to keep your body balanced.

“Your human body won’t be able to take it for too long.” And even if Vergil was trying to convince you to stand down, he still circled you, keeping his own predatorial gaze on your form and tense shoulders to quickly get into a fighting stance. You weren’t one easy to convince when you had your mind set on something, that he had to admit. “We should call it a day and tend your wounds. Your body doesn’t have the same resilience a devil’s body has.”

“I would have a lot more if you hadn’t been ruthless with me, love.” You pointed at some slight marks on your body – nothing too jarring, but still making an appearance here and there. “These bruises are on you.”

With those words, it was your turn to lunge forward and attack first. Vergil easily defended with a swift move from Yamato, trying an attack right after. You managed to defend as well, holding him still for a few seconds.

“They will make you stronger.” Were the only words he managed to answer before you attacked again. Vergil seemed to fight effortlessly, while you had to muster all your strength to wield your new sword – Vergil was right to say your body wouldn’t last for too long: you were already tired, thanks to his training, but your pride wouldn’t allow you to back down. And he knew that.

Even if Vergil worried about your stamina, he couldn’t deny how much he admired – and had a pang of pride in his own heart – every time you displayed that much willpower.

With a calculated attack to disarm you, Vergil was certain your playing would come to an end and he would have the final word on that argument – he did not expect, though, a graceful move from your side, spinning such a heavy sword in one of your hands and making it face down, coming between you and him and completely breaking his stance, foiling Vergil’s attempt to end your resolve.

You quickly threw your sword a little on the air in front of you in order to let go from the grip and hold the blade itself – strong enough to be able to wield it, but careful not to hurt yourself in the process – which gave you the perfect opportunity to spin around him and smack the hilt of your sword on his back.

Vergil slowly turned his head around, still impressed by your swift move after being so tired, only to find you with a smug smile on your lips.

“It will make you stronger.” You pointed at him with the hilt of your sword, throwing it slightly in the air again so you could grab the hilt with one hand and then another.

Vergil kept his back at you, calmly walking to the other side of the room so you could take your initial stances again – but this time you saw him shaking his head and heard a low chuckle coming from him.

Vergil was a survivor, one that lived the law of the jungle for so long that sparring and teasing his partner was one of the best ways to entertain him. To say you were both having fun was an understatement.

“Apparently, I haven’t been ruthless enough with you.” He turned around, holding Yamato’s hilt with both of his hands. You had to hold back a smile – that was one of his stances that usually meant Vergil was starting to lose his patience and considering going all out.

And that usually happened when he recognized you were starting to get the upper hand – which meant he saw your playful sword smack as a sign you were starting to get the hang of things.

After all, you only did that sort of thing with your old sword. Comparing to the way you both used to spar, he was going considerably easier on you tonight.

“Let’s remedy that.” His voice was almost a growl as his feet moved like lightning on the floor.

You had to put all your concentration in that fight – your eyes never leaving the Yamato, quickly finding the blade in the air from its shimmer and parrying with your heavy claymore. Using your weight, you pushed Vergil back – which only worked because he saw it as an opportunity to power another heavy attack to try to get you off-balance. You stumbled a little, but quickly gained your balance once more, holding back another quick attack from your lover – something quite frustrating for him, as you observed in his furrowed brows.

Even if he wasn’t going easy on you, it was the first time Vergil was tapping into some of his demonic abilities – strength, speed and power, for starters – and you took that as a compliment. If he wasn’t going to cut you some slack, he could at least fight you the same way he always did – and Vergil never really held back when fighting you.

As he said before, it would only make you stronger. And that was why you could easily fight some of the most frightening demons of Hell without even breaking a sweat.

Vergil didn’t take long to attack you again. He had that look in his eyes he only used when he was hunting, leaving no room for mercy. You held your sword in a vertical position right in front of you, having the Yamato hit the flat blade of your claymore with enough power to have you and Vergil recoil a little from the impact.

Thankfully, your sword was sturdy enough to take a powerful blow from a legendary blade and its less than formidable wielder and not shatter. That was something you would remember later, for now Vergil attacked again and you defended, holding back a series of lightning quick attacks that required all your attention, strength and speed – as well as both of your hands holding your new sword in order to be able to avoid all of the attacks.

As expected, though, you hadn’t mastered your claymore yet. Your grip faltered in one of your hands, and Vergil’s predator eyes were quick enough to notice that and see a window of opportunity. Spinning the Yamato on his hand, Vergil gripped its hilt and used the butt-end to hit your hands and make you lose your grip on your sword.

As you tried to recover without losing too much of your stance, Vergil took the chance to spin around you – as you did before with him – and use the sheath of the Yamato to smack your back. A bit lower, and he would’ve smacked your ass – at least, he allowed you to keep a little of your pride, as you allowed him when you chose not to do that as well.

You immediately leaned the tip of your sword on the floor, side-eyeing your lover – only to find him with his head held high, that convinced expression he would always wear whenever he had the upper hand, along with a ghost of a smile you knew very well.

“Shall we continue…?” His words were crowned with his usual slight tinge of arrogance, as you turned around and adjusted your grip around the hilt of your sword. “Or will you finally yield and allow me to take care of those wounds?”

“As my lover, you should know, Vergil…” You sighed and snapped your neck from side to side, getting back into position to fight. He had to raise one of his eyebrows, ever so impressed with your resilience. “I do not yield.”

His only answer was a smile before your powerful attack, holding you back with the Yamato still sheathed, using one of his feet behind his body as an anchor so he wouldn’t fall over. Even in his wildest dreams, Vergil could never had imagined he would find someone who would give such flawless answers. Yes, he wanted to care for you. But how could he deny the fire he saw in you when you said such things? It was the same fire that kept him alive for so many years; the same fire that made him get back on his feet even when defeat was certain, when all hope was lost, and only death and blood were expected. The same fire that made Vergil defy all odds and save himself, over and over again.

He didn’t know how he had found you neither how he could deserve you, but he did hope you remained for as long as he could have you.

With another attack, he took the opportunity to unsheathe his sword, using both the blade and the sheath to defend himself from a string of attacks as ruthless as those he had attacked you before. You didn’t see an opportunity, but you knew Vergil relied on a few tricks up his metaphorical sleeves, so you acted quickly to do the same he did before – and with the hilt of your claymore, you weakened his grip on the sheath, quickly spinning your sword and hitting it with all your might, making the blue sheath fly across the training ground. Vergil immediately held Yamato’s grip with both of his hands, trying not to let his surprise show on his face.

You could see it in his silvery eyes, though. You already knew how to expertly access them, to find Vergil’s emotions underneath the icy façade he used to wear. You had an advantage that made your heart swell and bolstered your resolve – and that Vergil was also able to read in your eyes. He fought back, putting a little more of his strength and power into a few riposte attacks, stopping your advances and making you fall a few steps back.

It wouldn’t be fair if he started using his demonic might when your body was almost giving out – but Vergil had to recognize you were lasting a lot longer than he expected. He thought, by now, your physical body wouldn’t be able to keep going, completely unrelated to your willpower. But there you were, proving him wrong – and making him fall even more in love with you, if that was even possible.

Your hands trembled a bit, though. You kept your eyes locked in his, reading his every move, his every emotion – and Vergil did the same, as if your fight didn’t rely on your swords anymore. As he got ready for another devastating attack, your sword found his in the air and, spinning your blades together, you brought them down with a flick of your wrist, having them rest together a few inches inside the ground.

You turned your back for a few seconds to catch your breath, pain starting to ebb through your arms. Vergil took some steps back in amazement, since that move was a first: you had never taken a break from a fight by disarming him as well as yourself, even if for a few seconds; you only asked with words and it usually took a few minutes. He observed you carefully – part of him reading if your body was going to give out and part of him reading if you would jump on him unexpectedly. Vergil didn’t know what to expect, but he could feel his blood tingling at his fingertips, ready to take action with whatever it is that you had for him.

After a few seconds, you immediately turned around, locking your hands around the grip of your sword once more and lifting it from the ground. Vergil couldn’t believe you still wanted to fight – and even win – but mirrored your speed and had Yamato back in his grip once more.

A few more attacks. He could see your hands trembling. A few more steps. He could hear your shaking breaths. A few more swift moves. He could see the relentless fire inside your eyes.

Vergil didn’t make it easier because of your crumbling endurance – if you broke, it would serve as a lesson on assessing your own energy and how far you could go. As you knew right from the start, Vergil wasn’t a forgiving mentor and would push you to your limit – he didn’t exactly expect you would do the same thing with yourself as he did to himself in order to improve his fighting to perfection.

A flick of his wrist. A powerful move from your hands. You found yourselves drenched in sweat, in the middle of your training space, the Yamato touching your neck, and your claymore touching the skin on Vergil’s throat.

You had your eyes locked into his silvery gaze, the gleaming blades of your swords ignored as the only thing that dictated that fight was your willpower – yours and Vergil’s. As you looked into each other’s reflections, you stated something you didn’t have to say out loud to be understood: neither of you would ever yield.

As that knowing reached Vergil’s heart, that was only one thing he could really do – something his logical mind and demonic pride could never fathom as the proper response to that situation, but his human heart burned to have him do it. His free hand cupped your face, pulling you into an immediate kiss.

When your lips found his, you used your free hand to anchor yourself in place by holding the back of his neck, pulling Vergil towards you. It was a kiss that burned with the very same fire he saw in your eyes, the one he mirrored in his soul and rarely let out as something other than willpower to keep on surviving. That fire was a will to live, a will to keep going, a will for life… A lust to experience, to burn bright and intensely, to take everything existence had to offer. A lust you could only safely explore with each other, not having to channel that only into surviving, but also into living life as it should be lived.

One of the things Vergil would always tell you, was to never let your guard down. You could be calm and collected, apparently unprepared, but always aware of your surroundings – and ready to kill at every waking moment.

Anything could be a distraction, anything could be a weakness. Being that close to you, in the middle of a fight, with that whirlwind of emotions stirring like a lightning storm that had to have its energy released somehow… Even if you had your sword still in one of your hands as he had Yamato in his, your blades were lowered - you had your grip almost letting go, ready to forget it on the floor.

You had your guard down.

“A demon would have killed you by now.” Vergil’s voice was but a rough whisper as he broke the kiss, his lips barely away from yours, hot breath still ghosting on your skin.

“A demon wouldn’t have kissed me.”

Both of your swords found the floor in unison, as your hands found each other with your lips locking in another breathless kiss.

Fortunately, you were both imperfectly human.

#devil may cry #devil may cry imagine #dmc #dmc imagine #vergil x reader #vergil imagine #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc fanfiction #dmc vergil #vergil sparda #I'm 99% sure sparring works as foreplay for Vergil when it's against his s/o #the other 1% is just actual training and focus #again no plot #only vibes #half of me is wanting to beat the shit out of him #and the other half is wanting to kiss the hell out of him #so why not both?

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marrycv · 5 months

Text

Pick up your phone!

paring : toxic!ellie x toxic!reader

warnings : Mention of weed, alcohol. Ellie’s punishment with sex. Mention of nudes. Oral (e!receiving), fingering (r!reveiving). Language, nicknames such as : slut, doll, angel, baby, bitch, motherfocker (and others). mention of yn like twice. Mention of cheating and lying and many other bad things 😅. Ellie and reader are NOT healthy, do not romanticize their relationship, its fucked up. Porn w out plot? (kinda). Both reader and ellie are mean and does fucked up shit. 18+

summary : You wait Ellie again. she’s late for 4 hours and she wants to make it up to you. But you didn’t want to fall in her arms this time- which you obviously lost at trying to do. Ellie’s mad and has a punishment for you when she was in the wrong, and you had every right to be mad at her.

kinda a scrap this is bad 🙏

short asf

you :

00:12 - Ellie, where are you?

00:34 - Ellie istg answer me!!

1:02 - c’mon you said you’d come over today

Els 🖕🏻:

1:55 - im omw

1:57 - dont bother.

2:01 - im sorry im late

2:01 - you’re always sorry, dont come home and go fuck one of your stupid fangirls

2:02 - im coming over

2:02 - i said no

2:03 - c’mon lemme make it up to you 💋

2:05 - im gonna block you

2:32 - yn? !message not delivered!

“fuck” Ellie mumbled under her breath, going out of the studio and jumps in her Truck. going over speed’s limit and then knocking hard enough on your apartment to wake up everyone else in the combo.

you get up from your bed, unable to sleep due to waiting for her all night.

you open your door and when you see Ellie standing in front of it, smelling weed and alcohol, you know she wasn’t gonna be easy to deal with tonight.

“Ellie go home, its 3 in the morning…”

“cmon let me in baby” she said in a whisper, almost sounding like a whine.

You and Ellie’s relationship was complicated- that was what you were saying to your friends, because the amount of time you two broke up, that she cheated on you, that you would expose her nudes on internet, that she would sleep with a stranger just to piss you off and somehow you’d still let her come back in your arms- as she did the same with you. you would do shitty things as well, like saying to all of her fans that the concert was cancelled or that it changed location. you could also post on twitter her worse secrets when you learned that she cheated on you. you’d also make up lies about some random stuff just to get a revenge out of her.

but mostly she would just fuck up your trust for her like coming home 4 hours later or cheating on the infinite amount of girls. she’d also love bomb you to get you back and then would disappear for weeks. she also showed all of her band’s member the sextape she got of you- and you knew after Dina, the base player told it to you. You and ellie would randomly call eachothers- especially when she or you were under something, most likely weed or alcohol but sometimes something else. It wasnt rare that you would make her jealous and posting a story of you and a girl on instagram and she’d come over to fuck you dumb. only to wake up alone in the bed.

“ellie please i just wanna sleep tonight, no fight.”

“and please i just wanna say sorry, no fight.” Ellie answered, thinking she was a smart girl for this one

you rolled your eyes.

“are you even able to walk?” you asked her, seeing her flushed cheeks and her eyes red like hell

“of course i am baby, im okay.. please let me just make it up to you im so sorry im late”

“no youre not! because you wouldve told me you’d come home late or you wouldve just told me that you were busy!!!”

“im so sorry..” she says in a childish tone, just as if she was mocking you for being so mad.

“fuck off els”

Ellie rolled her eyes and made her way inside, taking steps closer to you.

“dont talk to me like that.” Ellie says, looking right into your eyes- mood changing suddenly, she didnt get the answer she wanted.

“you dont show up 4 hours late, bitch”

Ellie’s jaw tightened and she looked at you furiously

“tell me you just wanted to fuck me Ellie.”

“dont you ever call me ‘bitch’ again.”

“or what? you’re gonna leave? that already happened, i can survive it.”

“nah.. im gonna give you a lesson.”

“the fuck you mean?”

“get on your knees” Ellie said, tone demanding.

“i wont do shit you ask me to do Ellie.” you say scared of what she’s gonna ask you to do. you have some suspicions, but your mind is overthinking about so many possibilities.

Ellie puts her hands on your shoulders and force you to get you on your knees. She looks at you from down and she takes off her pants along with her boxers.

“you know what to do now.” Ellie tells you, intertwining her fingers with your hair, pulling you closer to her pussy. You start to give her short licks, obviously nothing enough for her.

“I swear to god you motherfucker if you dont do what-“

Ellie started but got cut off with one of her whines by you sucking her clit like your life depended on it. Your knees hurts, but her grip in your hair is too strong for you to move. your holding her by the thighs, moaning against her cunt by how good she tastes. obviously pussydrunk by her. and the perfect little grunts she would make made you so fucking wet. her hips would be jerking against your face, riding your tongue the best she could to chase your high. Ellie would never tell you, but you ever were the only one to make her cum. she knew that it would make your ego so much too high if she told you that on countless girls you were the only one able to please her. you know her sweet spots and she wasnt scared to be vulnerable with you. she always was. and you always were too.

“Fuck- fuck.. just like that, yeah”

her grunts would turn into whines and her whines into small moans. Ellie wasnt that much of a loud girl, but you knew if she was vocal- it was good. it made you laugh, sending vibrations through her clit.

“Im gonna- fuckkk!!” she moans out as she cums in your mouth. you still suck her clit as she rides your tongue for her high to be longer.

you get up from your knees and ellie kisses you, tasting herself on your tongue. the kiss turns rapidly messy and rough. Ellie would hold you by the hips, directing you by the bed. as soon as you touched the bed, she made you lay down on it and she got on top of you, still making out with you. her kisses got on your jaw until your neck. she then took a pause to look at you. you were eye doying her- she would always win. you were her little slut.

“only needed my” puts a finger into your core “fingers to shut that attitude huh?”

she takes off your shirt- which you were braless under it. peaking already your tits, ellie titled her head, smirking

“you got ready for me, doll?”

you nodded, wanting more of her.

“nuh huh, words baby, i want words.” she told you as the sucked one of your nipples as one of her hand was massaging the other breast. as her other hand was working on your clit to make you feel sooo good.

“j-just for you els!” you obey to her request, only wanting her to go faster.

“faster el- faster!!” you try to manage to tell her.

“faster huh?” Ellie says as she just slows her pace of her fingers brushing against that sweet spot of yours.

“please ellie!!” you beg for her to go faster as she just slows down again and again.

“i didnt say you’d get a good time Baby, this is your punishment, as deserved.”

“please.. ill be good Ellie- never gonna be m-mean with you ever” you faked promised her, just needed to tell her whatever she wanted to hear.

“yeah? you’d do this for me, angel?” Ellie asks as shes at only one finger, completely ruining you. completely making you cry for more- needing more.

“id do anything- just please fuck me ellie, fuck me.”

2 days after this huge mistake. You and Ellie started to do this kind of thing all the time. She’d piss you off, you’d be mad, she’d become madder for something she made you mad at- and would finish as sex. the only way you two did work out with.

she made you feel so good and you made her feel better.

This was unhealthy, but she was so addictive.

she’d come home in the middle of the night- wouldnt care if you were deep asleep or had a party- she’d take care of that pussy no matter what. Her songs would be about you two relationships.

Everyone liked it.

and you were happy you had such a big impact that she wrote- and sang about you.

But she didnt see you that pretty- you were her fucking toy.

14:01 : why the fuck did you say that i was toxic in your song?

15:56 : because you are.

15:59 : fuck you els

16:01 : you wish <3

16:01 : you’re the toxic one in our relationship

16:30 : 💀💀 hell nah

16:31 : Ellie how many times did you cheat on me?

17:23 : babe, we were on break how many times do i get to tell you that?

17:23 : anyways i gtg ill see you tonight ;)

She wasnt easy and you werent either.

but whatever, she has become way more famous than ever.

she’d send you those pictures before a show, trying to make you come to one (which you did but didnt tell her).

“does that feel good els?” you say as your face was in between her thighs, on your knees just like how she loved you like that.

“fuck babe dont stop!!” Ellie would tell you into a soft tone, not so much like that little ‘dominant’ cover she’s making everyone believe she was. she was always the one screaming your name over and over.

she then would make you see heaven with her cock filling you up, camera in one hand and the other one on your breast. She’d look at it all the time, rolling circles on her clit whenever she missed you and you blocked her so she couldnt ask you for any nudes- she has better, she could literally see you in action getting fucked by her.

she loved you, that was why she was so fucked up at showing it.

and you just were getting revenge for how she made you feel.

But in a way you two belonged together.

But she’d still use you for your amazing body and how good your tongue felt against her cunt.

you were her little stress reliever. (you’d let her do whatever she wanted to you- you’d just never tell her that)

request are open 💋

#ellie williams #ellie fanfic #the last of us #ellie smut #ellie x reader #tlou fanfiction #wlw ns/fw #wlw post #wlw smut #toxic relationship #toxic love #toxicity #not healthy #wrong #ellie x you #ellie x fem reader #smut #so hot and sexy #dom x sub

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kaceythecrunch · 6 months

Text

·:¨༺ The little things matter.. ·✮· C.S༻¨:·

Summary : Just a bunch of of fluff bc I love Chris<3. No but fr, just like a reg day with your boyfriend.

A/C : my bad for not posting lately. I'm lazy as fuck.

W/C : 1.6k+

Chris always believed he wasn’t a lovey type of guy. He didn’t think he would show much affection to his girlfriend. And even though we’re dating now, he still is in denial that he is an affectionate person. But I always tell him, the little things matter.

Beep Beep Beep.

Our alarm goes off. Practically pleading for us to start our day. I’ve already snoozed it 8 times. *Give me a break.* I turn to my boyfriend, make sure he wakes up. “Chris..It's already 9 am, we’ve got to start today.” He says in his morning voice, “nng…5 more minutes trust me.” He starts to pull on the blanket and snuggles into the sheets more.

I stand up trying to start my day. Until my movement was interrupted by Chris pulling my arm. “Please, just stay in bed with me a little bit more.” Of course I give in and get closer to him. I can tell he is still sleepy, but he’s trying hard not to actually fall asleep again. He brings his hand to my face, gliding one of his fingers on my jawline. Then starting to play with my hair. “Chris..” I say, smiling at him. “Hmmm…” He mumbles. “We for real have to get up now. Today can’t be our lazy day,” I tell him. “Nng..why not.” He says, still sleepy. “Well because yesterday was our lazy day. We can’t be lazy two times in a row.” I explained to him. “Ugh..fine..” He gives in.

He is still playing with my hair. “Like are you sure we can’t have two lazy days?” he looks at me, practically begging for another lazy day. “Yes, we can’t have two lazy days. Cmon, let's get up and do something with our lives, kay’?” I say, smiling at him, urging him to get up. I pull his arm and he moves slightly. “Fine…You’re like I love you. I would have not listened to you If I didn’t” I smile, “Okay cmon lets get ready.”

I start to make my way into our bathroom. I grabbed my toothbrush, then he put the toothpaste on both and handed chris’ toothbrush to him. I turn on the buzzer and brush my teeth. I looked in the mirror, but the only thing I could focus on was him. His messy hair, the pjs. I look, and see that his eyes are focused on me. “Hey, you mind?” I told him. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN I'M LITERALLY LOOKING AT MYSELF.” He yells out, slightly embarrassed.

“Shush…you’re gonna wake up everyone else in the house. I was just kidding” I say, patting his back. “Like I've stated, I don’t think I'd do that lovey dovey bullshit.” he explains as he is rolling his eyes. I tell him, “It's the little things that matter.” he smiles. We finish brushing our teeth, and our morning routine.

I decided to drive both of us to a local coffee shop. “You’re like my passenger princess, huh?” I say, laughing at him. He looks at me, grossed out. “Okay, don’t call me your passenger princess. That's just weird.” I continue to laugh, “But you literally are my passenger princess. I have spare pepsi cans for you in the back of my car. I’m legit your sugar daddy, driving you to places. ” I look at him, raising one eyebrow, smirking. “I am seriously not a passenger princess, do not call me that.” He says, trying to act all serious. “Alrighty tough guy.” He scuffs in response.

We finally arrived at the establishment. I turn to him as we are walking in, “What do you want?” He thinks, “Please waffles. The most superior break-y.” “Okay Okay.” I say, as we walk in and wait in line. He turns to be and looks at my hair. “You hair is fucked up.” I cover my head with my hands. “Wait, thats so embarrassing, how fucked up??” I say, kind of worried. “Don’t worry, lemme just help you.” He starts to fix the strands of hair that I missed getting ready this morning, and making sure that my hairline is straight. “Are you sure this is alright?” I double checked, “Yes, I’m sure it’s fixed.” He responds. I smile, knowing that he realizes how affectionate he actually is.

I order, and we grab our food and sit at one of the tables. “Can I have a sip of your drink?” I ask, “fine, only a sip.” he responds. I smile and I start to pour the drink into my mouth, “I said a sip!!” He tried to take away the drink, but it ended up spilling all over my mouth. My hands are up, my jaw is dropped, and I just look at him in shock. “That’s your fault for not listening. You know Pepsi is my roman empire.” He says, though he still decides to grab a napkin and wipe the mess all over me. “You look disgusting right now.”

He cups one of my cheeks with one hand, and with the other hand is cleaning off the wet stuff off my face. “Nng, chris..I’m an adult. I can clean myself up.” I told him. “I know but it's okay. You look like a mess right now.” I frown. “I can tell..” He smiles, “this is kind of funny.” He sits down and brings out his phone. “Say cheeseeee.” My eyes widen, “NOO CHRIS-” He snaps a picture, and turns his phone to me. “I’m keeping this picture forever.” I look, in shock. “That is probably the worst picture you could ever take of me..” he laughs. “I think this shows the real you.” I question, “the real me?”

We finish, and walk out of the place. “So, where to?” He asks. “Can we pleaseee PLEASEEE go to the mall.” I beg. “I really need to buy more clothes. He agrees and we get on our way.

We get to the mall, and of course it's busy. A bunch of teens, families, and other couples. There is one couple making out in the middle of the mall walkway. Chris turns and whisper’s to me, “how the fuck does someone have the confidence to do that?? Imagine I just stare hard, do you think they’d get uncomfortable?” I responded, “well obviously, you’re staring hard at them.” He explains, “but that's like what they want..I love you, but I would never show PDA like that.” I laugh, “well I’m hoping you never show PDA to me like that..”

As we strolled around the store, I of course, picked up things that I wanted. I walked into a plushie store. I’ve been wanting to get a panda plushie for myself. I was roaming around the aisles looking for one, until I got distracted. Something caught my eyes. A deer plushie. “Awww, this plushie reminds me of chris. I’m definitely getting this one.” I pay, and walk out of the store and meet chris. I notice he also has a bag. I ask, . “Hey, what did you get?” he looks at my bag, “nothing special what about you?” I shrug. “Nothing special either.”

We begin to walk around the mall again. He looks down. He noticed that my laces of my shoes are flapping around. “Your shoes are untied, let me tie them for you.” He pulls me to the side and bends down to tie my shoes. “I’m actually so in love with you to the point, everytime your shoes are untied, I will be more than happy to tie your shoes. You know?” He says, “Aww, you’re so sweet!!” I pat his shoulders. “Ew, was that corny or was that good enough?” I smile, “No no no, it was super sweet. Trust me!” He stands up and smiles.

“I can’t take this.” I took out the deer plushie from the baggy, “I saw this, and it reminded me of you.” He smiles, slightly flushed. He takes the plushie. “YESS!! A deer plushie? Are you for real?” I smile, “yeah! For starters, your favorite animal is a deer. Secondly, you just remind me of a deer.” He smiles at me, “thank you so much..” He kissed my cheek. I'm surprised because Chris doesn’t like PDA. In fact, he hates PDA. So a kiss was surprising for him to do. He says, “The little things matter.” he continues, “In fact I also have something here too!” He pulls out a bear plushie. “YOU’RE UNREAL!! A BEAR PLUSHIE. I’m gonna marry you. Gift giving is my Roman empire!.” I give him a big hug. “I love you so much holy shit!!”

After the mall adventures, we get home and plop on the couch. “Chris, I had way too much junk food today…” He turns to me, “me too.” I lay my head back. “I think we should start eating better..ugh.” He kisses the tips of my nose, then my upper lips. “Today was a long day, hm?” He fully turns around, my back is facing him. He grabs my shoulders and gently rubs them. “Hmm..yeah.” I responded. “You know how you’re always saying that you aren’t an affectionate person?” Chris shakes his head. “Well, I think that you are the most affectionate person I know. I appreciate that, Chris. You make me really happy.” He smiles. “I don’t know. There is just something about you that makes me feel all sappy and corny. I mean, I guess that's just what love makes you feel. The little things matter.”

A/N : YOU MADE IT TO THE END?? WOOP WOOP. Anyways, I always make fanfics at 1am. I think that's the time I'm in my feels. Anyways.. If you enjoy my writing, you should totally like flood my inbox with more fanfic ideas. Im cooking up a nick sturniolo x male!reader right now. So yk.... Also, if you wanna be on the taglist, just reply<3!! Glad y'all enjoyed.!!

Taglist : @mayhem-72

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prianya · 3 months

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AJSJSHHUEEU YOU WRITE THE BEST ETHO FICS IVE READ!!! if it ain’t to much trouble, can I ask for etho trying to fluster the reader? take care of ya self, love your work!

What a Flirt!

Etho x Reader

Notes: Sorry this took so long! And thank you for the compliment! I’m not too confident in most of my characterizations, but it’s good to hear you enjoy my work. :)

Word count: 792 words

Etho is an energetic man. He’s always on the move, working on some “top-secret” project, or having fun with his closest friends. The energy had always endeared you, and you and Etho had become good friends after a while. Etho is energetic as a fact of life, and recently, on top of that, Etho has become a flirt.

•

On Monday, Etho had cornered you just outside of your base, leaning against a fence post and giving you a smile.

“Have I ever told you that you have a beautiful face?,” Etho says, smiling brightly. You level him with a blank stare, and his smile wavers. “Why are you looking at me like that? I mean it!”

“Sure, Etho,” You sigh, smiling at his attempt. In recent days, Etho had seemingly made it his mission to fluster you, whether out of affection or entertainment, you can’t tell. “Come here, you’ve got a loose strap on your harness.”

Etho steps towards you, and all but halts his breathing. Your hands adjust the straps of the harness gently, fixing his elytra more tightly to his back. Looking up at his face, Etho avoids eye contact, going as far as to turn his head from you. Even still, you spot the light dusting of pink that adorns his cheeks.

“Hm. Seems like you’re losing at your own game, huh, Etho?” You tease, bringing a hand ip to poke gently at his face. He swats your hand away, his blush intensifying.

“I’m not losing at anything, I’ll have you know,” He pouts, once again swatting at your hand. “I’m not even started yet. Just you wait.” He says, puffing out his chest, similar to a bird.

“Okay, birdie, I’ll wait to see what you have in store.” You laugh, shooting his embarrassed face a glance as he realizes what you had called him.

“Hey! I am not a bird!” He says indignantly, and you laugh once again as you walk away from Etho, and as he watches you go.

•

On Tuesday, as you were brewing potions, arms deep in a cauldron with a heavy sheen of sweat over your face from the heat, Etho once again came to find you.

“You look stunning today, sweetheart,” He teases, leaning over the windowsill as he pokes his head inside of the window. “I love someone with such creative passions.” You smile, rolling your eyes.

“Etho, you should move. This potion splashes, and it causes boils on the face. It’s a prank potion, yes, but it’s still not pleasant, especially before dilution.” You tell him, and he gapes at you before standing straight up.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner! I was over that for five whole minutes!” Etho whines, placing a hand on his forehead.

•

Wednesday comes soon as well, and Etho makes haste in finding you in your garden. He sits next to you casually, laying out and facing the sun. He pulls down his mask, bathing his face in sunlight, and you note in the back of your mind that you rarely ever see him in the mask when it’s just you two.

“Fine day today, hm?” You say gently, uprooting a weed and tossing it into a wicker basket. Etho hums, eyes still closed and a peaceful smile painting his face. Smiling, you return to your weeding, systematically ripping weeds out of the ground and discarding them for future use. Etho stirs slightly, and when you look over, his eyes are locked onto you.

“Hello there. Finally awake?” You say, absentmindedly organizing your weeds into separate bundles. He doesn’t answer, but his hand finds yours relatively quickly.

“ Quiet day, huh? I get it. Would you like to join me for some tea?” You ask gently, Rubbing a thumb over the back of his hand and giving him time to reply.

“Yeah. Tea sounds nice.” He sighs, letting go of your hand to stand. He then offers his hand to you, and pulls you up. The two of you walk the few yards to your base together, hands linked at your sides. You can feel Etho’s gaze on your face, firmly locked onto you.

“You know,” Etho begins, his thumb caressing the back of your hand, “I can’t imagine life without you by my side. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed someone’s company like I’ve enjoyed yours.”

You pause mid-step, face flushed, and cover your face with your hands. Etho looks at you, confused at first, then smug.

“I did it! I told you I would-“ Etho quiets immediately as you press your lips to his, muffling whatever “i-told-you-so” he had coming.

“Yeah, yeah. You told me you would.” You smile gently, rolling your eyes as you kiss him again. “You win, Etho.”

#ethoslab x reader #etho x reader #hermitcraft x reader #pri writes!!

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jsprnt · 7 months

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Americano PT. 3 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: almost posted this with a missing part 💀 anyways, enjoy! (Ramadan Mubarak to my practicing babes!)

W/C: 3.782

part two

"What are you doing here?"

"Why are you here?"

We both exclaim at the same time, his hand cradling his shocked face as I look at him with my own wide eyes.

I glance at my dad; he doesn't look all too happy. I avert my gaze to Jude's mom, gulping down whatever saliva I have left in my now-dry mouth.

I actually had quite a few nice interactions with her during matches. We'd always talk when we bumped into each other. I not-so-shockingly got along more with his mom than Jude himself.

But this...

This isn't a nice interaction whatsoever.

I don't know if I should laugh or cry.

"I am so sorry. As you might know, y/n is insanely clumsy." My dad begins, his hand on Jude's back. He manages to guide him further into his firm.

I'm left standing alone with Jude's mom as we stare at each other for a second. My body stiffening in fear of what she might say.

"I am so sorry-" I start rambling, feeling my palms become sweaty.

I was more sorry to her than her son, to be completely honest.

I watch her eyes warm up immediately, her hand reaching over to place her hand on my shoulder.

"I think he'll be alright. Are you? Looked painful there." She says, her eyes full of concern as she squeezes my shoulder.

"I'm fine, perfect." I blurt, neglecting the pain in my own ankle and look behind her.

I was so dead.

I try to not look too nosy when I sit at the secretary's desk outside of my dad's office. Peering inside sneakily through the huge glass panels. Watching Jude and his mom sit across from him, a couple documents placed on the table they're sitting at.

I do make eye contact with an injured-looking Jude. He looks pissed, nodding his head repeatedly to whatever my dad was saying while holding up a pink ice pack to his head.

A sight that could be seen as comical, if I ignored the fact that I was the one who had caused it.

Thankfully, both of our parents don't notice the death stare we're giving each other, totally immersed into- what I assume, important conversation.

Come to think of it, why were they even here today?

It could only be the stalker incident.

I'm brought out of my thoughts quickly by a hand knocking on my desk.

"Stop staring already."

Luckily, ‘my-ego-is-bigger-than-my-head' Jude had returned just in time before I started to genuinely feel bad.

I lean back in my chair, eyes skimming his face for any bruises or blood. Not noticing anything unusual yet.

"It hurt, didn't it?" I ask, wanting to laugh. The situation unfolded so ridiculously fast, it felt like a camera prank waiting to be revealed.

"You could've messed with my face!" He replies in a hushed voice, his Brummie accent thick as he leans over the desk.

"Should I hit the other side? Just to make it even.” I smile, standing up and going to stand in front of him. Ignoring the shooting pain in my ankle.

He looks at me in disbelief, cocking a brow at me.

"What are you even doing here? Got sued for being insufferable?"

"Very creative with your insults.." I mock, pointing towards my dad's office. Seeing his mom and my dad still talking to each other.

"That's my dad."

"That's your dad?" He repeats, brows furrowing. He points at me, a little too disrespectfully, a look of disbelief on his face.

"Yes, that is my dad." I roll my eyes in annoyance.

"That's why you look so close with Ancelotti?" He gasps. "That's how you got the job!" He assumes, an accusatory finger pointed at me as he steps closer to me.

"No, and that's actually none of your business." I state, leaning back so his hand doesn't touch me.

I got the job after I submitted an anonymous application a little after I had returned from London. It was only just to try out my luck, but I was surprised when I got an email back for an actual interview.

I understood the assumption totally, and I wouldn't say I knew exactly a hundred percent that they didn't know who I was.

Most I could go off of was that I never told my dad I applied for the job. Later also finding out that the Real Madrid executives don't really look at job applications. They had other people do that. So the nepotism possibility was very small.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, tilting my head.

His expression immediately drops, his gaze averting.

"None of your business." He repeats my answer, mocking my tone.

"Okay, I guess not." I sigh, throwing my hands up in defeat, hearing footsteps come our way.

"Have you guys made up? You and Jude must be closer than I thought." His mom says, smiling at me.

I force a smile, nodding at her. My expression changing immediately.

"Yes, we made up. Right Jude?" I look at him, putting on my sweetest face.

"Sure." He mutters, turning to my dad.

"I didn't know she was your daughter. How do you deal with her?"

I was about to rip the door off its hinges and slam the door into his face again.

"She's a handful, isn't she? Troublemaker since she was little." My dad says, and I look at him shocked, as if he'd just betrayed our entire lineage.

No, I was not!

I step in between them before my dad ruins my image even more. Looking at Jude's mom in particular.

"Should we have some coffee?"

"So, what brings you two here? Not something horrible, I hope.” I pry, setting down the plastic tray of cups on the table.

I glance at my dad for a moment, placing a cup of coffee in front of everyone before sitting next to him, across from Jude and his mom.

"We had an incident in our home. Police are still investigating, but we were advised by the club to contact your dad for any legal action." His mom explains.

I was right.

"Oh, that must’ve been terrifying. Are you both alright?"

"We weren't home, but it definitely shook us a bit."

I nod in acknowledgment, taking a sip of my coffee as I take her words in.

"I know my dad and his team of lawyers will be very helpful. Both criminal and corporate law, the best in the city." I brag, winking, putting a hand on my dad's shoulder.

"y/n.." my dad warns, bellow a whisper, giving me a side eye.

I hear his mom chuckling and avert my gaze to her with a raised brow.

"You know- you've got to take compliments, especially from your daughter." She smiles, bringing the cup up to her lips.

My eyes move over to Jude. He's slumping in his chair, looking insanely uninterested in the conversation. I think I even caught him grimacing when I spoke.

The conversation his mom and my dad have practically fades in the background for a second. My mind wandering to random thoughts as I look to the side.

I only redirect my attention when I hear my name, followed by Jude's.

"-to work together?" My dad says, and I look back at Jude. Motioning for him to answer whatever my dad had asked. He doesn't say a single word, prompting me to discreetly kick him underneath the table.

'What?' He mouths at me, then he looks at my dad.

"It's very fun to work with y/n. She's such an interesting character." He answers, bright smile on his lips.

How backhanded could a compliment be?

"Yeah, so fun. Jude's has his moments, but we get along so well." I bite back, my tone sweet as ever. Holding back a wince as I feel him step on my shoe underneath the table.

"Oh, that's great.." His mom trails off, her eyes flickering in between us.

"Jude and y/n will be seeing each other a lot. As she's traveling closely with the team this season." My dad says proudly, this time putting his hand on my shoulder.

"That's even better. You can improve your Spanish faster with her help, Jude." His mom adds, causing a forced smile to form on his face.

"Yeah, that's very nice." He comments, sitting up and straightening his posture.

Our very nice conversation finally ends. My father and I standing up to follow them out of the firm.

"Lovely having you, Mrs. Bellingham." I say, extending my hand.

"You too, y/n." She says smiling, giving me a firm hand.

I smile, letting go of her hand, watching our parents shake each other's hands. I then look away, standing awkwardly in front of Jude.

"See you tomorrow, Jude." I mumble; it pains me physically to be nice to him.

"See you." He says, already walking away. His back turned to me as he stands outside.

After many greetings, my dad finally closes the door behind them, slowly turning to me.

"Really? What kind of show were you putting on?" He begins, throwing his hands up.

"Dad! You have to check this door out. I tried to open it like three times, and the key barely turned!" I explain, speaking hurriedly.

"I swear, it wasn't on purpose. I didn't even know they were here!" I add, trying to defend myself further.

"Let's just go home..." He mutters walking back into his office, collecting his laptop bag and a couple documents.

I sigh, following behind him like a lost puppy. Slowly becoming more aware of the pain in my ankle.

"Where is everybody?"

"We finished this big case successfully, and I sent everyone home early. I had to stay back because of this appointment." He turns to me.

"Why are you here, though?"

"I wanted to visit and work on that essay."

"You're still not done with it?" He asks, locking his office door.

"No.." I reply guilty, fidgeting with the stack of bracelets on my wrist.

He sighs, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pushing me towards the entrance.

"I'll cook fresh tonight, and you'll work on that essay. What do you say?"

I crack a smile at his words, nodding.

"Deal! I would love some lasagna right now."

"I think- I'm going to faint."

I look up from my phone, frowning at Luis. The sun beaming down on our faces as we try to collect ourselves.

"No, you're not. You're going to show him how much of a professional you are with a camera." I say, patting his shoulder in reassurance.

We had received a very detailed email after agreeing to capture Apple CEO Tim Cook's visit to the club. This led us to stand in front of the training pitch, as we were instructed to film and take pictures of Cook interacting with the players.

Normally, we had timed posts that got posted automatically via an automated system.

This time, I had to live update the social media accounts of the club. Doing it all alone with Luis this time was a new experience.

We had only done it with approval for edits and drafts, and of course, goals that were scored or unexpected things that happened during matches.

"Take a deep breath and turn your camera on."

I say checking the time and posting another story on the club's Instagram before looking up.

We make sure to capture everything perfectly and move quickly to post the footage online.

After a few, excruciating fifteen minutes, we finally finish filming. Thinking Cook and President Pérez would just walk away, until they started approaching us. My own nerves building up as I glance at Luis who looks like he's about to actually lose it.

"Get your shit together, dude." I whisper, plastering a smile on my face as I finally shake Cook's hand. President Pérez also extending his hand as I shake it, a little more careful of my actions.

I wish I could just ask for a new MAC and a hundred million euros.

"Nice to meet you, sir. I'm y/n. Part of PR and marketing." I grip Cook's hand firmly, looking into his blue eyes through his black-rimmed glasses.

"Likewise." He responds, shaking Luis' hand as well.

"So, you two are the brains behind the genius team?" Cook asks, looking in between the two of us.

"Very flattering, but we have an amazing team beside us. We've been chosen today for our recent hard work. Though, I would say- Luis here is definitely one of the best, if not the best cameraman to work with." I say, trying to speak in the most polite way possible, smiling kindly.

I had never sucked up to someone this hard, but it had to be done.

I watch Cook's gaze move over to Luis, looking impressed.

"Well, I've seen what you've put out. My biggest reason to visit is definitely because of your team. As you have might have heard, I am very impressed by the amount of growth this football club has had on social media. I think you two definitely deserve to take some of that credit."

"Thank you, sir. We do appreciate that." Luis says, and I watch his facial expression intently.

He was really good at pretending to be okay.

"Right, then we will make our way back inside." President Pérez interrupts. We nod almost immediately, giving them a polite smile as they walk away.

We both watch them leave our proximity. Then look at each other with a blank stare before I witness Luis burst out in laughter.

"I've never heard you speak so sweetly."

"What should I have done. Call them 'dude!' or 'mate!'. Besides, I just gassed you up in front of the CEO of Apple. Thank me at least." I say, scoffing, checking the analytics of the posts before looking back up at the training pitch.

"Thank you. You're the best." He mutters, giving me a side hug.

"I know.." I say teasingly, shoving my phone in my pocket.

"Is it me, or did these guys just start training like their lives depended on it?" I laugh, seeing almost all of them fully drenched in sweat.

"Well, they had to impress the president as well."

I nod at Luis' answer, finally seeing Ancelotti dismiss the team. We watch them stop training, hearing some sighs of relief.

I hear someone call out to us, and we look around confused. Eventually, my eyes lock with Cama's.

"Yeah?" I shout back, watching him jog our way. Of course, the young French duo completes as Aurélien follows him.

« Comment c'était? » How was it?

Eduardo asks, a bright smile on his face as he still looks, very obviously tired.

« C'était bien, ce n'était pas très difficile. » It was good, not that hard.

I boast, seeing Luis look partially lost in the corner of my vision. I was sure he could make out some words, though.

« vraiment? » really?

Aurélien chimes in, having heard the first few sentences from afar.

"We were a little nervous, but I think we handled it nicely." I wink, jabbing Luis as if he could follow.

"What's with the French?" I hear, seeing the person I'd seen enough of this week already.

I watch Eduardo throw an arm around Jude's shoulder, bringing him into the circle.

"Just talking." He says, the atmosphere turning awkward for a moment.

My phone starts ringing right at that second. I quickly reach for my phone and read the caller ID.

'Hugo (PR)'

I show the phone to Luis for a moment, as he nods, giving me the go ahead.

I walk a couple meters away for privacy, then pick up the call. My walk a little off as my ankle still hurts. Only because of Thursday’s debacle. I don't even know why I didn't get it checked out yet.

The call lasts a couple of minutes, and I walk back to the group of guys. Looking at Luis in particular.

"Luis, we need to go meet Hugo. He wants a debrief on how everything went."

"We will see you guys during lunch." I say to the players, bending down to unzip the equipment bag, helping Luis pack the camera.

"Why do you walk so weird?" I suddenly hear Jude say, his voice filled with curiosity as I look up.

I sigh in annoyance, rolling my eyes, before standing up and handing Luis a battery he had to pack.

"Remember when I smacked the door into your face?" I say, hearing confused noises coming from the guys next to us. I ignore them, focused on rolling up a cable semi-aggressively while looking at Jude.

"You weren't the only one in pain, hurt my own ankle as well." I mutter, still pissed about the incident.

He doesn't respond, continuing to look at me blankly. Prompting me to ignore him further.

"You guys need any help?" I hear Aurélin say, and I shake my head.

"No, it's fine; we're used to it." I smile, muttering a quick 'bye' before Luis and I go inside, mentally preparing for the debrief.

"That was not the best I've seen." I whisper to Luis, as his face looked understandably grim.

"I don't even want to know what the mood in the changing room is like."

We were making our way to our cars in the parking lot after the disappointing 1-3 defeat against Atletico Madrid.

We were done with shooting content and decided to leave early. More people wandering around with cameras and all would probably be even more of a nuance to the players after a defeat like this.

"Just turn on a song. That is the only way we can forget about the pain." I half-joke as we unlock our respective cars. Both conveniently parked next to each other.

"What? Are you playing Future again?"

"Exactly."

Unlike the match on Sunday, the match against Las Palmas ended successfully with a 2-0 win for Real Madrid. The players finally made their way inside after a celebration with their proud fans, walking up the stairs through their stadium tunnel. Jude walking alongside his teammates into the changing room.

His eyes catch Luis interviewing his teammate and Man Of The Match, Joselu. He looks around for a second, not seeing the girl he'd grown accustomed to fighting with every time they interacted. Confused as to why she wasn't doing her usual post-match task.

Ignoring his brewing thoughts, he walks into the changing room. He hears his name being shouted halfway through taking his sweaty shirt off. Looking up to find Antonio looking at his arm.

"Your arm is bleeding, man. Get it treated at the nurse." Antonio suggests, patting his shoulder.

He nods, thanking the man. He puts his T-shirt on carefully, trying not to make contact with the wound. Dressed in a clean shirt, he steps out of the changing room. Walking through the hallways and knocking on the door of the medical room before opening it.

No medical personnel is in sight. Though, he does see someone curled up in a blanket on one of the treatment beds.

The person raises her head to check out who entered, a groan leaving her lips in dissatisfaction as she spots a confused Jude.

"Why are you here?" He asks, eyes roaming on her defeated figure.

"I'm dying, obviously." She mumbles, burying her head deeper into the pillow.

"Finally." He mutters, rolling his eyes and sighing.

"Fuck off.." She replies, pulling the blanket closer. Not in the mood to entertain him.

"Where is the nurse?" He asks, sitting across from her on the other treatment bed.

"Left to get me some ibuprofen." She replies, feeling more pain in her lower stomach. Unable to hold back a pained groan, she rests her head down again.

His eyes soften for a moment, but he tenses up when he hears the door open. A male nurse looks at him curiously as he walks into the room.

Still, the nurse prioritizes the sick y/n, helping her take the ibuprofen with a gentle hand on her back, accompanied by a glass of water.

Jude stares at the two, his eyes following the nurse’s movements like a hawk.

"Do you require treatment?" The nurse asks in Spanish, turning towards Jude when he sets the cup down.

He looks at the nurse like a deer in headlights, recognizing some words, but not enough to understand the entire sentence.

"He's asking if you need treatment." He hears y/n translate, her body slumped against the bed.

He nods immediately, showing off his arm. Dark red blood dribbling down to his elbow.

He watches the nurse’s eyes light up, getting the required equipment and bandaging his wound within a couple minutes.

"Gracias." He mutters, fidgeting with the bandage as the nurse cleans up the equipment.

He watches the nurse leave, his eyes darting back to y/n across from him.

Jude raises his eyebrows in interest as she turns around in the bed. Frown on her own face. The thin blanket not covering her body anymore.

An unusual concern for the girl starts brewing in his chest, he tries to shake it off. Look away, but he can't help but look again when he hears her shift again. Now, with her back turned towards him.

He stands up, walking towards her. His body moving on autopilot, his brain screaming at him for a clear reason why he should care about her or help her willingly.

Seeing her shiver slightly, Jude looks at the end of the bed, seeing the blanket jammed in between the mattress and bed frame. He glances at her one more time before grabbing the blanket, pulling it out from in between the bed and then quickly draping it over her body.

She doesn't react, drowsy enough to not notice. It making it the perfect moment for him to book it out of the room.

He almost has a heart attack when he crosses Luis, probably on his way to check up on his coworker in the medical room.

He sees Luis look at him for a second but avoids eye contact, continuing to just booking it into the changing room.

Why did he even do that?

His brain scrambles for a reason, all kinds of thoughts whirling in his mind, quickly chalking it up to having morals, the ones his parents taught him since he was a young boy.

You had to have morals, even when you mutually despised each other so much, right?

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