#enemies to lovers !!
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~2.5 words
From me: Just a silly little thing I was thinking about. Not a lot of background. Probably has some plot holes. Currently thinking it will not continue.
Warnings: Enemies to lovers (you came, you called)
Summary: She doesn't like Harry. Which is fine because Harry doesn't like her either. Except both of them are lying.
Harry didn’t like her. But to be fair, she didn’t like him either. For albeit stupid reasons on both their parts that had prolonged throughout their lives. She was best friends with Eleanor. By proxy Eleanor’s boyfriend Louis and his circle of friends were therefore inextricably linked to her. Which meant she and Harry were around each other.
A lot.
To everyone’s dismay.
It was an offhanded comment, one that Harry never should have made but it soured her to pieces. “Only an idiot would do something like that,” he said, quietly. Only Louis overheard.
And her.
That was Harry’s mistake.
But she wouldn’t take it lying down. Harry could call her stupid all he wanted; she wouldn’t let anyone get away with saying it to her. So she told him off.
It was probably the first time in his life anyone had ever stood up to him. She found that when people were attractive, they were more likely to get away with bullshit that others would put up with even though they didn’t need to. Someone like Harry was more likely to say whatever he wanted and just assumed no one would tell him off because he was pretty.
Harry shouldn’t have called her an idiot. It wasn’t kind. Maybe he was jealous because honestly, watching her follow her passion was admirable and if the light hit her just right maybe he would have agreed that she was cool for doing what she wanted despite all the naysayers like him.
Even if it was embarrassing to be told off in front of their friends.
“Damn,” Louis whispered making everyone snicker. Harry was fuming. His eyes practically turned red with anger while he glared at her.
So, they weren’t friendly.
But given they were stuck in one another’s lives they learned to be... cordial. As cordial as two people could be when she absolutely wanted to claw his eyes out.
*
An hour.
That was how long she waited inside before she realized it was no use. No new messages, no phone calls. Nothing.
For whatever reason, she imagined Harry’s smug smile saying something to the effect of “I told y’were an idiot.”
It fueled her anger, and she silently blamed him for her date’s inability to appear. Which made no sense at all. Harry had no idea she was even on a date. But she had waited too long and honestly couldn’t disagree with the British voice mocking her inside her head. She was an idiot for waiting so long.
Her phone gave her more disappointing news but she was grateful she had service.
“Hey, uh... Uber is going to be... a wait,” she mumbled quietly standing just inside the entryway of the restaurant she had stayed at far longer than any sane person would have. “I know you’re on a date, I’m so sorry. I just... any chance you’re around to come get me?” She asked through her phone. The anxiety filled her lungs and a single tear rolled down her cheek. It was so typical that she didn’t have anyone to come get her.
“Oh, babe, I’m so sorry. Louis and I have been drinking and—”
She nodded, closing her eyes. She knew it was a long shot. If it were any other time, she had no doubt Eleanor and Louis would be there for her. “Oh, you know what,” she laughed quietly. “The app just updated their time. They’ll only be five minutes,” she assured her. “Sorry to bother you,” she sighed looking at the time on the app that increased by another half hour.
“Not at all, you know I’d be there as soon as I could,” Eleanor assured her.
She texted her mom, her sister, even her sister’s boyfriend and was met with no response from any party. Her toes were numb from the chill in the air and uncomfortable shoes. It was unfair. No one was there for her when she needed them. Ever. It sounded so dramatic but it was true. She wanted one nice thing. She wanted a nice date. A night out. It wasn't supposed to be hard.
Anxiety rolled through her with each passing second on the cold street. Her throat felt tight as she scrolled through her contacts one last time and realized there was one and only option left. But she sure as hell wasn't going to call him.
Are you busy?
Is this a joke?
Well, that was a short-lived idea. God, he was the worst.
Forget it.
What? Your date stood you up?
I said FORGET IT.
Why did you text me, then?
Lapse in judgment. Won’t happen again.
Her phone illuminated with Harry’s contact, no picture. Just his name. Not even an emoji to recognize she had known him for ten years. She may as well have had his number for no longer than a week. “What?” She snapped.
He snorted. “Let’s get it straight, love. You contacted me.”
“And I told you to, ‘forget it.’”
“Are y’seriously that stubborn y’won’t tell me?”
“No, I’m not stubborn,” she was very much so stubborn. “I will not let you berate me and call me stupid or make fun of me for going on a fucking date. I needed help and I will admit. I was stupid to call you thinking you would do anything but sit on your throne of self-adoration and help someone else. As I said, it was a lapse in judgment. Good. Bye.”
*
With an invigorated sense of frustration and anger, she had determined walking was her best bet. It had only been five minutes since she spoke to him. Her feet were aching, the chill gripping every inch of her body, when a car slowed beside her. It parked and she heard the door open. She didn’t turn around. Anxiety crept through her veins. Her heart pounded heavily in her chest, and she tried to remember the self-defense moves she had learned in a seminar put on by her dorm her freshman year of college.
“How much for an hour?” Harry’s voice cut through the cold air. She wanted to be mad. Wanted to snap something at him. But the relief crushed her; she couldn’t help but feel grateful for his familiar voice.
“You couldn’t afford me,” she grumbled turning back toward him. He was leaning against the side of his car—just by the front wheel. Ankles crossed; hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. He looked like a model for either the car or his coat. Hell, he could have been a model for the laces of his shoes. He was utterly beautiful.
He scanned her up and down. “S’that how you dress for all your first dates?”
“Shut the fuck up, Harry,” she muttered. A blush painted her cheeks as he scanned her. It felt so judgmental she wanted to punch him. She stood in front of him several feet away, eyeing him suspiciously. She didn’t know how he knew where she was. Didn’t know why he even decided to show up. Honestly, she thought maybe he was just driving around and was going to just get back in his car and leave her.
He snorted, scuffed the bottom of his shoe on the sidewalk. “You look nice.”
“Nice?” She repeated. “Is this a joke?”
“A lapse in judgment,” he rolled his eyes. “Are you getting in or what?” He asked pushing himself off his car and opening the passenger door.
“Why did you even come here?” She asked. The warmth from his car hit her like a blanket and she wanted nothing more than to dive in and snuggle into the front seat, blast the hot air at her toes, and fall asleep against the heated seat he knew she had from all the times Eleanor talked about it.
But she was stubborn.
“Obviously it was a mistake,” he closed the door again and made his way toward the driver’s side. “Could leave you here instead,” he shrugged eyeing her over the top of his car. Like a game of chess. It was her move. She glared at him and put her hand on the car handle. He locked the door as she pulled and smirked at her. “So easy,” he mumbled.
She thought taking her chances walking would be better—her toes were going to fall off and the numbness was creeping up her ankles and making way for her legs. “Oh, forget it,” she grumbled and stalked back down the sidewalk.
Harry groaned as if truly pained by her existence. “Oh, for God’s sake, love! It was a joke,” he was by her side before she had taken ten full steps.
“What are you doing here, Harry? Huh? Just here to rub salt in the wound? I got stood up, okay? You were right. Happy? I just wanted to—”
“Idiot.”
Fury pulsed through her at his interruption. At the insult. She slapped his cheek before she could say anything else. Before she could think of anything else. His head was still turned to the side when she marched further down the street without waiting to see his reaction. The numbness of her legs didn’t deter her. The heat of her embarrassment flooded her and warmed her plenty to make it somewhere nearby that would have more accessible Ubers.
“What the fuck was that?” He snarled, grabbing her wrist and spinning her around. It shouldn't have been a surprise he caught up to her so rapidly.
“You called me an idiot,” she snapped back.
He chuckled darkly. His grip tightened on her wrist, and he shook his head. The laugh hadn’t a trace of humor in it. “He. Your date. He’s an idiot.” She glared at him waiting for him to make another joke at her expense, but it never came. They stood still on the sidewalk. Harry’s hand holding her wrist like she might bolt at any second. Lord knew she was thinking about it. His gaze didn’t stray from hers. Intense.
And really fucking beautiful.
“Get in the car,” he ordered.
Which she didn’t take kindly to. “I’ll take my chances,” she sniffed and tugged, trying to release his grip. He didn’t budge, not even a millimeter.
“M’not asking,” his voice was low. “Get in the car, or I’ll drag y’in,” he promised.
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me, love.”
The thought of Harry dragging her in the car didn’t seem like a good idea. It would only embarrass her further. “Why did you even come here? I told you to forget it,” she muttered.
He opened the passenger door and the warmth once more enveloped her like a hug. He gently touched her shoulder. She turned in the space between the opening of his car and Harry. He stared at her again. “You called me,” his voice was gentle. Unlike anything he had ever heard from him—especially directed toward her. There was no shrug, no indifference, no irritation. He was breathing evenly. As if they had done this a thousand times. As if he looked at her like she was... precious all the time.
There was a thud in her chest, her heart stuttered unevenly against her ribs. Her lips parted and she didn’t know what to say or do. Her toes weren’t numb anymore. She wasn’t cold. There was a silence that filled the space between them as he stared at her and part of her believed if they just never spoke again maybe they could be friends.
“If some idiot guy can’t see how special you are then s’his loss. Only his loss. Standing up anyone is horrible. Standing you up...someone so pretty, so intelligent, so kind, should be a crime.” The words escaped her. The air in her lungs was gone. “M’always gonna be there for you,” it felt like a trap to let him say something like that to her. His hand reached up from his side, he brushed the back of his fingers along her cheek. “I don’t know what happened, love,” he murmured. “I... I was so worried. And I truly would pity the person that tries t’take you on,” a smile danced at the corner of his lips. It wasn’t smug. It was beautiful and melted her further and it wasn’t even a full smile. “And I was still so worried... I jus’,” he shook his head. “I think I ran two stoplights,” he admitted. “S’like a switch flipped, love. Never been so worried ‘bout anyone like that,” he continued holding her gaze.
She bit her lip and looked at his chest. “Are you fucking with me?” She asked quietly. Her voice defensive but low. Afraid to believe him.
But more afraid to not believe him.
“No, love. Not even a little... well, jus’ the part ‘bout taking you on. S’quite the slap y’gave me,” his smile grew, and he rubbed his cheek as if it really hurt him. Maybe it stung, but she didn’t think it really was all that hard.
“Been like ten years of build up to that.”
He chuckled quietly. “S’all you could muster?” He challenged.
She rolled her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. Genuinely. It felt weird to say it to Harry. Felt weird to be in such a position. But she couldn't help but feel that she liked it.
“Always, love. And I meant it. Y’look beautiful.”
Her heart was doing things that she didn't know Harry could do to her. She blushed, looked at her shoes; her toes numbing in the chilly air. “Well, his loss right?”
“My gain,” he winked at her and gave her arm a gentle squeeze as he left her side of his car for the driver’s side.
“Have you just been jealous all this time?” She asked as he settled behind the wheel.
“No,” he rolled his eyes. The silence was companionable. The first time in knowing Harry that it felt anything other than hostile. “Maybe,” he mumbled.
“Maybe?” Her eyes were delighted, and she smiled at him. “You like me.”
“Oh, bite me,” he grumbled. “I do not.”
“You so like me,” she teased. Her cheeks were warm making her forget about the cold. He didn’t say anything. Just the gentle hum of the road filled the car. “For what it’s worth, I like you too,” she murmured tucking herself to turn sideways in the seat. Her face squished against the back of the warm seat. “Probably more than a lot,” she admitted. “I guess," she took a deep breath, scared to say it, but Harry had called her pretty, intelligent, and kind. She couldn't let that go unnoticed. Her declaration wasn't as pretty as his but she needed to say something. "I think my brain mixed up my emotions. I was... very unhappy that you didn’t like me all these years.”
“God, love, you're ridiculous,” he grabbed her hand without moving his eyes from the road. He squeezed her fingers but it felt tied directly to her heart. “How could I not like you?"
--
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This kinda inspired by one of your enemies to lovers stories where eddie says “you wouldn’t be able to handle me” but reader instead says “oh yeah i couldn’t handle the two-centimeter-pussy-defeater bc id because i would be too busy laughing my ass off at your angry half inch.”
Sorry i have been holding that one in for quite some time 😤
Beg for it
enemies to lovers - one bed trope - eddie munson x fem!reader
warnings: SMUT +18, piv, oral ( f & m), choking, degradation, unprotected sex (don't do this, this is fiction), porn with plot, fluffy at the end.
a/n: thank you requesting babe, hope you love it!
5.7k words
“Game night at my place, the whole group will be there” Steve announces after greeting you. You went to visit him and Robin since you were already near the place. Also, maybe you could find a movie to watch tonight.
“Ugh, really? They all said yes already?” you ask.
“If you’re expecting me to say that Munson hasn’t, then I have bad news” he confirms.
“Fuck”
“You’re not even trying to be friends at this point” he complains.
“It’s impossible with him being so mean all the time” you tried to defend yourself but Robin was quick to refute your statement.
“You sure are mean to him as well, don’t act so innocent”
“Well, he started it! I didn’t even know him and he started with the jokes and asshole comments” you weren’t lying.
You were new in town, and new at the summer job your dad had found for you. He wanted you to already have some experience at working so you could make a better curriculum later. There was were you met Nancy and instantly became good friends. So much so that she had introduced you to her friend group she has had for years already. Steve, Nance, Jonathan, Robin and Eddie. The former four had been sweethearts to you since you first met them, easily becoming good friends as well. The problem was with the latter. The night Nancy had introduced you to everyone, he started being a little distant and cold towards you. You tried not to feel offended since he could just be shy or introverted, but then he started throwing snide comments and sarcastic mocking your way. You were not going to sit there and take that, so you equally threw cutting remarks at him.
That’s how the current war with him started. And that’s why your friends keep insisting with this forced proximity, so we could all be a happy family.
But it was useless, you and Eddie do agree on that.
The game night arrived that Friday. You were at the Harrington household with several board games awaiting on the table. Battleship, Clue, Guess Who, Monopoly, Scrabble, you name it.
“We wanted to make different groups and play all of these, then see which team is the best” Robin explains. “Steve and me will be team one” she says as she writes that in the whiteboard. They really went all out, since we could all be pretty competitive.
“Group two!” Jonathan exclaims quickly grabbing Nancy’s hand.
“Wait… no, definitely not” You start complaining after realizing that would mean you’re stuck with Eddie.
“No way! I’m not teaming up with her, she’ll make us lose at everything” he complains as well.
“I will? I think the actual loser here it’s you”
“Oh, am I now-?” The metal-head starts responding when Steve steps in, cutting him off.
“Okay! Stop yelling, we’re not even playing yet! The teams have been chosen, try and be faster next time”
“We’ll start with Guess Who” Robin announces.
As the game progressed, the bickering continued.
"Does your person have brown hair?" Eddie asks Nancy and Jonathan, who nod.
You reach over to flip down the characters with blond or red hair "See, this is why we should’ve picked someone with a hat, it's less obvious"
Eddie rolled his eyes "Oh, please. Like your guess was any better. We’re losing here!” Eddie complains.
"Only if you keep making terrible guesses" you shoot back.
"Does your person have a hat?" you ask the other team.
"No" Jess replied.
"Still think the hat was a good idea?" Eddie raised an eyebrow at you.
"It was strategic" you huff, flipping down the characters with hats.
After playing most of the board games you had, you were tied with the second group, Steve and Robin had already lost.
“Last but not least, to decide the winner of this evening, I present… battleship” Robin announces once more.
"You sure you can keep up with this game? It requires more than just a pretty face" Eddie asks you.
"Don’t worry, I have enough brains to make up for your lack of them" you respond.
“Quit it, start playing” Steve orders.
"Let's just get this over with" you roll your eyes.
They set up the Battleship boards, each team carefully arranging their ships. Eddie and you hunched over the board, whispering fiercely.
"Put the battleship here" he insist, pointing to the top left corner.
"No, it’s too obvious. Let’s hide it in the middle"
"Fine, but when they hit it right away don’t blame me" he groans.
As the game progressed, your bickering intensified.
"B6" Jonathan called out.
You glance at the board and softly nod your head "Hit"
Eddie leans closer, his voice a teasing whisper, "I told you the corner was better"
"Just focus"
When it was your turn, Eddie called out "G4"
Nancy checks their board, "Miss"
You smirk "Looks like your guess wasn’t so great either"
Eddie rolls his eyes "Just wait"
A few rounds later, it was your turn again.
"E5" Eddie calls out.
"Miss" Nancy announces.
"I told you they wouldn’t put it there" you huff.
"Like you’ve done any better"
"How about C3?" you roll your eyes.
"Fine, C3" Eddie sighs.
"Hit" Jonathan says between his teeth.
"See? I told you" you smirk.
"Don’t get cocky, princess"
The tension built as the game neared its end, each team with only one ship left.
"Last shot, let's go with G3" Eddie says
You nod.
"You sunk our battleship" Jonathan confirms after a long sigh.
“YES!”
“COME ONN” both you and Eddie shout in excitement and before even thinking about it you hug tightly.
Robin and Steve watch the scene with wide eyes and smirks on their faces.
And the second your bodies touch each other you realize what you’re actually doing. The hug only lasts few seconds before you both back away awkwardly.
“See? You actually do make a pretty good team” Robin comments.
“Only because I took the last shot” Eddie says.
“Oh please, if it were up to you we’d still be guessing corners” you reply.
"And if it were up to you, we'd be stuck in the middle forever”
Your friends roll their eyes as the bickering continued. And as you act indifferent, you try not think about how you had to stand on the tip of your toes to wrap your arms around his neck, or how soft his hair had felt touching your skin.
His frizzy and chaotic hair. But so curly and soft.
--
Couple of weeks after that night had passed, you hung out with the guys almost every weekend. You favorite nights were the ones Eddie was busy and couldn’t make it. Like tonight.
“Pass the salt, please” Nancy asks Robin. You all went out to have dinner together. Not all actually, Jonathan was too busy as well, him you did miss.
“It’s like we’re having a girl’s night!” you say excitedly and both girls laugh as well.
“No, you’re not about to count me in as a girl” He complains.
“Oh please, you have better hair than me!” Robin comments and he rolls his eyes.
“I’m just teasing, jeez! Someone has their panties in a twist!” you joke.
“Are you on your period or something?” Nancy joins in sarcastically.
“Alright, not even funny” Steve interrupts. “Let's focus. I think we should keep planning the trip, even though we’re not all here tonight”
“Don’t even mention it. I miss Jonathan so much, he’s been so busy lately. I think he really needs a break” Nancy complains and Robin agrees with her.
“I know, it’s really noticeable when Eddie’s not here either”
“Oh yeah, he’s the one I miss. His irritating voice and loud comments. His annoying essence it’s what’s missing here!” you joke but they don’t find it funny.
“We’ve been through this, you’re gonna have to learn to like each other”
“Sure sure, so… the trip?” you change the topic acting foolish.
“Yeah, I liked the hiking option. We always go to the lake every summer, we should change it up” Nancy votes. You’ve never went to any lake with them since this is the first year you’re joining them. But they had told some stories about this hidden lake they usually go to in summer.
“I think so too, plus we should do something different since we have a new integrant” Steve comments smiling at you. Robin and you also agree to go with that option.
The guys make sure of telling the rest everything you have agreed on that night. You’ve settled on where to go hiking and the cabin that would be waiting for you at night.
A few weeks later you're all set to go.
The trip to get there was...
Steve and Jonathan took turns driving. "You must be a really shitty driver if no one here trusts you behind the wheel" you notice and tell Eddie.
"I'm not a bad driver, princess. Maybe we could go for a drive sometime and you could judge for yourself! We'll call it a date" Eddie teases you the way he knows will shut you up, it always worked. As soon as he started flirting with you, it was like you got shy all of the sudden. Replying with some nonsense that would make Eddie laugh harder because he knew he had won.
"I'd rather get eaten by a shark" you respond ignoring the nervousness that ran through your body.
"Alright, we still have a few hours ahead of us, and I'm not gonna make them with you two bickering the whole way there. So calm down" Steve —or actually, mom Steve— told you off.
Once you got to the cabin, you parked the car, settled everything down, ate something and got ready for today's hiking exercise.
Eddie was never a big fan of sports, so he knew that after an hour or so of hiking —no matter how slow they were walking or how much water he was drinking— he would just start to stay a little behind. Not a lot, but definitely the last on the row.
Also, he started to get bored. Eddie was chatting with Jonathan, but he started to take pictures of every little plant or flower he saw, and the higher you got, the more pictures of the view he wanted to take.
So Eddie started to walk in silence, taking notice of other little things, like the fact that you and Steve look pretty close and pretty giggly with each other since you started hiking. But not only that, obviously, it's not like he's jealous or anything. For him to be jealous he would have to like you in the first place, and there was no way Eddie wants you.
You're the obvious person to like; everyone in Hawkins is already smitten with you. Every guy has a crush on you because you're undeniably beautiful. He knew from the first moment he saw you that you'd never go for a guy like him. So, to keep himself from showing any sign that he wanted you, he did the opposite —he started to hate you.
So he is definitely not jealous. He was only noticing that like he noticed the colourful rocks that he walked by, or the clouds in the sky, or the way those shorts hug your body so nicely.
But he keeps hearing your laughter every ten seconds. Was Steve really being that funny, or you were acting all giggly for him? Did you like Steve? It certainly seems like you do.
You, however, were having so much fun. In the middle of a funny story Steve was telling you about some guy who tried to flirt with Robin at work and the look on her face not knowing how to tell him she didn’t like him —or well, any men for that matter.
The forest path was rugged, but you welcomed the challenge at first, feeling the cool morning air on your skin. However, after a while, your legs began to protest, your breath came in shorter gasps. It was hard to keep up with Steve. Swimmer and football player Steve. So you had to slow down a little, now walking alongside Eddie.
“What’s the matter, princess? Can’t keep up?” he teases with a mocking tone.
“You literally got behind sooner than me” you answer, shaking your head. “If anyone’s slow here, it’s you”
“But it looks like we're both walking together now, so who's really winning?” Eddie chuckles, unfazed by your sharp reply as his eyes twinkle with amusement.
You decide to ignore him. How foolish of you to think that he would accept that silence.
“So what’s the deal between you and Steve? You looked pretty cozy back there. You’re not very subtle, you know”
“There’s no deal with Steve, we were just talking” you roll your eyes, irritation flaring up.
"Right, just talking" he says, his tone dripping with scepticism. "You’re so obvious, it's almost painful to watch"
“Why don’t you stop jumping to conclusions and mind your own business”
“Ohh, is the princess mad at me now? I’m so scared!” he grins, clearly pleased with himself.
“You’re impossible” you say almost to yourself.
You kept walking for a few more hours, taking occasional breaks to catch your breath and sip some water. The trail seemed endless, but the beauty of the forest made it worth the effort.
As you trudged along, you noticed the sky darkening. Grey clouds, rolling in with alarming speed. The wind picked up, rustling the leaves more aggressively.
A man in uniform hurrying down the trail called you out. "Hey, you guys need to find shelter! A big storm is coming in fast. There's no way you'll make it back down in time"
Panic start to appear in all of your eyes.
“Wait? Seriously?” Nancy asks.
“Yes! There’s a motel that’s a few minutes away, to your left” the guy informs you. “I don’t know how much room they have left, cause I’ve been sending some people there already. But you should go now”
Finally after quickening your pace, you spot the outline of a motel nestled among the trees. You hurry towards it. As you approach, you see the motel was old but resistant.
You reach the door and push it open, stumbling inside just as the storm unleashed its full fury. Inside, it was dim and musty, but at least it was dry.
“Hello, uh, we need room for six, please” Nancy is the first one to get to the register and talk to the old woman who was reading a newspaper as if she hadn’t heard you coming in.
“$70 the night” she answers without even looking up at you.
“Uhh… okay, we’ll take it” Nancy says and as you all reach for you wallets, the woman gives you three keys.
“There’s only three rooms left, two with queen beds and one with two separate single beds” she speaks again, as slowly as she can apparently.
“SEPARATE BED” Robin shouts fast.
“ME TOO” Steve is quickly to join her on calling dibs for that room. Not wanting to share a bed.
“Wait! No!” you complain. “Why would you get it just cause you screamed?”
“We called dibs, sorry sweetie” Robin explains.
“But that’s not fair, we should have discussed it!” Eddie joins in.
“Too late” Steve says handing the money to the woman and taking the key of their room.
“Come on guys, maybe they have a couch” Jonathan tries to make you feel better as he also pays and picks a key to their room.
“Are you actually making us share a bed?!” you ask them offended.
“Maybe it’ll help you become friends!” Robin tells you.
After paying and grabbing that stupid key, you all go to your rooms. As you walk in you notice that, in fact, there is no couch.
“Fuck” Eddie complains once again. “I’ll take the floor, let’s just find some blankets that I can sleep on”
And you turn that room upside down trying to find some. But the only blanket in the room is the –only– one on the bed.
“There’s nothing here!” you sit on the bed admitting defeat. “We’re both gonna have to sleep on the bed. I’m gonna freeze without a blanket and you can’t sleep on the bare floor, you’d freeze too”
“If you wanted to sleep with me, you could’ve just said so” Eddie jokes.
“Not now, Munson! Really not in the mood!”
After each getting ready for bed, you start building a wall of pillows in the middle. Separating his part of the bed from yours.
“I bet you wouldn’t make Steve have a wall of pillows” he mumbles, but you’re able to hear him nonetheless.
“Did you not listen when I said not now?!”
“See, that’s the problem with you. You think you can just walk in here acting like you own the fucking place. Newsflash, princess, not everyone is going to fall at your feet following your little orders!” Eddie gets mad for real this time, but so are you.
“I’m so sorry for trying to make this less uncomfortable! Actually, if you want I’ll even cuddle you while we sleep!”
“Shut up” Eddie rolls his eyes.
“No really, we should even make out before sleeping while we’re at it! Maybe that’ll prove to you that I don’t fucking like Steve”
“Yeah, you wish” Eddie comments.
“Actually, I think you wish. Giving that you’re always trying to flirt with me when we argue and giving how jealous you seem to be about Steve” you notice.
“I’m not fucking jealous. And you’re the one suggesting to fucking make out!”
“See, I think you do want to. You’re just too much of a pussy to even admit it” you whisper close to his face.
“Oh my God, princess!” Eddie starts laughing arrogantly. “You wouldn’t even be able to handle me”
“Oh yeah, you’re right! I could not handle your two centimetres because I would be too busy laughing my ass off at your angry half inch” you respond at his face.
But he doesn’t say anything back. He just looks at you. His jaw clenching, eyes darkening, breath heaving.
Before you can react, he closes the distance in one swift, aggressive movement. Gripping your arms tightly, he kissed you fiercely and angrily, his lips bruising against yours, as if trying to channel all the pent-up emotions into that kiss.
To say that you're shocked would be an understatement. But you did kiss him back. How could you not? With all the ardor and sentiment that he was putting into that kiss?
That fucking kiss.
After he felt your lips moving along with his in a dance, he let all the anger go. The kiss became passionate and intense instead of angry. Like you were finally letting go. Stopped overthinking and finally giving in.
You didn't need to talk. You didn't want to. Instead, you put one hand on his haw and the other on his hair, feeling it in between your fingers, bringing him even closer.
He sighs, holding a grunt as he feels you play with his hair. His hands move lower to your hips, feeling the upper part of your body in the process.
A fight for dominance is held up between you two. He bites your lip harshly, and you let out a little gasp that allows him to win. He's playing dirty. You're not surprised.
He starts to push you down slowly, so you're lying on the bed with him on top of you.
Your hands travel lower as well as you feel his back. You wonder if he has any tattoos there as well.
He dares to leave your lips alone as he lowers his kisses to your jaw and then your neck. He kisses and bites and licks all over your neck. You can bet that he is leaving marks as purple as a grape.
It turns you both on even more.
Eddie feels like he's flying. He's even touching the clouds. Marking you all up is only an image that haunts him in his fantasies. Like when he can't sleep, or is in the shower, or after fighting with you all evening and you're looking so beautiful and you're being such a brat. That's when he imagines leaving you all bruised out. But he's actually doing it right now, and he's going feral.
You start to feel like you're too dressed. His hands go under your shirt, and he starts to pull it up. You pull your arms up as well so he can take it off. His kisses keep traveling lower on your body. Your chest, your shoulders, the top of your breasts. He stops there. Making out with one of your nipples over the lace of your bra while pinching the other. You start moaning, your hips move searching friction on your core, and he lowers his hips so you can start dry humping him.
You feel his smirk against your sensitive skin as well as his hard on against your centre. Mocking your desperation. You're not surprised.
He moves up, meeting face to face once again. "So desperate for me, aren't you princess?" he whispers so closely to you face you can feel his lips moving and his evil smile too.
He watches you breath hard and your legs trying to close searching for that friction in between once more.
"Ask me nicely and I'll take care of you" he proposes and you roll your eyes.
You can't. You won't.
"Beg for it, princess" he tries again. "Let me hear you"
You shake your head. You're playing difficult, but Eddie likes a challenge.
"No? You're not gonna beg for me? Alright princess, you know what I'm gonna do?" he pauses to think. "I'm gonna make you cum so fast on my tongue you'll be embarrassed, and then you'll know how much of a desperate slut you can be for me"
You want to laugh and tell him off, but you are so intrigued by his confidence at the same time. You settle for a defiant look thrown at him, he catches it and smirks again. Something tells you you'll be seeing that smirk quite a lot tonight.
He unhooks your bra and throws it somewhere in the room, he squeezes your tits and caresses your nipples making a mental note to keep playing with them later. His hands travel down to your pants which are the next item being thrown away inside the room.
He takes a second to admire the view of you only on those white panties and he feels his cock jump. He proceeds to take your underwear off too, but this item is put inside his back pocket.
He puts your legs over his shoulders and lowers to be closer to your pussy. He bites his lip admiring how fucking pretty and perfect it looks. He wastes no more time and dives in.
He licks it and kisses it and sucks on it drunk on your taste. He fucking makes out with your clit and has you meowing and arching back like a damn cat.
His hands grab your thighs so hard he's probably leaving marks there too. He sighs and hums and laughs against your pussy hearing your pretty moans.
He looks up at you as you look down at him and you both feel like you could just cum at the sight alone. Your cheeks blushed, eyes watery, hair a mess, lips swollen and little moans are still coming out of them. He looks up at you while still sucking on your clit so fucking good. His eyes are covered by his bangs so you reach to move them to the side. His puppy eyes look straight at you, his hair is also a mess, and his hands are gripping you with so much force his skin as well as yours becomes whiter. And his rings feel cold and addictive against you.
You try to fight your orgasm but looking at him makes it impossible. It hits all throughout your body so good that you cry out his name as you pull on his hair.
As you catch your breath, he sits up and washes all your wetness off his face with the back of his hand, all that with a big smirk on so proud of himself.
"Still doubting me?"
You grunt, annoyed, and bring him closer. You pull his shirt over his head and take a second to admire his bare chest and arms covered in tattoos. You unbutton and unzip his pants. He's just watching you act so desperate for him to undress, enjoying every second of it like the cocky motherfucker he can be.
"Need help?" he whispers on your ear, and you nod with a pout. He stands up and takes his pants of slowly.
"These too?" he asks, signalling his boxers. You nod as you feel even hotter paying attention to the big tent he has on them.
He puts them down too, standing up proudly as you look at his big cock. "Half inch you said?" he teases you, and you look up at him as if telling him to shut the fuck up.
You sit up facing his dick. You grab it gently as you keep looking at it. How is it so... pretty? How the fuck does Eddie manages to be pretty everywhere. Even what you thought could not be pretty. He manages to make it look beautiful.
A mischievous thought crosses your mind. And you start leaving some kisses on the tip. Even a lick here and there.
He gasps unexpectedly. You put the tip in your mouth, moving your tongue around it. He lets out a little moan. You look up at him, he's already looking at you. And you proceed to slowly put all of it in your mouth while maintaining eye contact. His tip touches your throat, and you have to fight a gag. You still have a full fist grabbing the rest that didn't fit your mouth. He moans again at your little show. You close your eyes and start moving your head up and down. Eddie moans louder this time, and hands stop your movements.
"As much as I enjoy this, princess, and I really fucking am" he lets you know. "I want to cum once I'm inside of your perfect little pussy, can I?"
You take him out of your mouth with a 'pop' at the end and look at him defiantly once again. "Beg for it" you challenge him feeling proud of yourself.
He laughs. "Are you seriously telling me to beg for it while you're still practically on your knees for me?"
You won't let him win this one, so you lay back again resting on your elbows. "Beg for it"
He takes a big breath in ogling over all of your body on display for him and only him. He'll let you win this one because his dick is throbbing at the sight before him.
His hands travel up your legs and your hips to your waist. "Please, princess" he says once his face is closer to yours.
"Please, let me fuck you so good" he starts humping his dick against your pussy which makes you both gasp.
"Please, please, please" he kisses your cheek to sugar-coat you.
"Eddieee" you move your pelvis up and down against him. "Do it, put it in"
And he wastes no time to do so. Pushing his tip inside and you both gasp. He bites his lip and thrusts to enter you completely.
"Oh, fuck" your head is thrown back and you lay back down. He feels so big and so fucking good in you.
"Mhh, fuck princess" he lowers his body to be chest to chest with you. "You feel so good baby, so tight around me"
You have to bite your tongue to stop you from moaning his name, you can't keep inflating his ego.
"Don't get all quiet now. You're always talking and the one time I wanna hear you..." he teases you.
"Earn it" you manage to get out. It's ironic how your lips are almost bleeding from how hard you're biting on them to stop you from moaning as hard as you want to, but you still tell him to fuck you better.
Eddie knows what you're doing, but he likes playing with you too. So he accepts the challenge.
He gets up on his knees against the bed and takes your legs to pull you closer to him. You instantly wrap them around his hips. He wraps a hand around your throat and he looks like he's about to say something, but instead, he enters you again. A moan escapes from your mouth instantly, and you see his big smirk back.
He starts a hard and fast pace with his thrusts as you hear his sighs against your ear. You can't help the whines and moans that escape you now. Your hands go to his back scratching him, and pulling at his hair, but it only makes him moan harder.
He lowers his head to your breasts once again and keeps kissing them as he fucks you. You arch back again, because you can feel him everywhere. And he feels so so good.
He feels you clench around his dick and he thinks he could just cum right now. So he starts playing with your clit with his fingers.
"Eddiee... 'm so closee" you whine pulling him somehow even closer.
"Yeah? You are?" you nod desperately. "Beg for it" he whispers and smirks right after saying it.
You roll your eyes but it doesn't take much to convince you this time.
"Please, Eddie," he was about to tell you that you can do better, but beat him to it. "Please baby, you feel so good inside of me, so big. Eddie, please"
Eddie has to stop himself from cuming -which he almost does. "Cum for me, baby"
And you do. Your orgasm hits even harder than the first one. You gasp and whine without even thinking about it.
Few seconds after that, Eddie can't take it anymore. He feels you clench even harder while you cum and it becomes too much. So he lets go too while moaning your name against your skin.
You take a few seconds to catch your breaths when you feel Eddie pull out —and after admiring how his cum drips out of your pussy— he gets up, puts on his boxers and goes to the bathroom, only to come back with a wet towel to clean you up. To say he surprised you again was an understatement. Who would have thought he would be so careful?
After you go to the bathroom as well —with wobbly legs Eddie smirks about— and change into some comfy clothes, you both lay down. No wall pillow this time. And are quick to fall asleep after all the exercise you did today.
The next morning wasn’t so sweet. Loud knocking on your bedroom’s door accompanied a loud Robin telling you to get up already.
Waking up all curled up with him was bound to happen. But if someone would have told you yesterday morning that today you would be waking up with Eddie Munson spooning you, you would have laughed at their face.
But here you are, and to be honest, it had been a while since you slept so peacefully.
You feel him groaning against the skin of your shoulder, holding you tighter.
You slowly opened your eyes to accustom to the light.
“Did you end up killing each other last night?! Answer me!” Robin shouts again from the other side of the door.
“Certainly feels like it” Eddie murmurs and laughs at his own joke.
“We’re awake! Calm down!” you let her know.
“We have to leave so then we can breakfast, so hurry up!” she lets you know.
You get up and start tiding up. Eddie is slower, he sits on the bed barely opening one eye to look at you and smiles. “Good morning, princess”
You look at him and a little smirk escapes from your lips. “Hey” you greet him shyly.
You both start changing to get down and tidy everything down. After you both brush your teeth, you go to pick up your backpack but he stops you to pull you in close to him.
“Good morning” he says again with his face close to yours while he pulls a strand of your hair behind your ear. Then he proceeds to kiss you, sweetly this time. Which warms your heart. You kiss him back playing with his hair once again.
“Hi, Munson” you say sweetly against his lips.
“You look beautiful in the morning” he admits but before you can even react, the knocking on your door is back.
“Okay! Okay! We’re coming!” Eddie stops them. “Jesus”
After getting down, you were waiting for them to explain where you would be having breakfast but as soon as they see you they start looking at you funny.
“What?” Eddie asks being as confused as you but they all start laughing.
“What is going on?” you ask again.
“Are we just gonna pretend like nothing happened?” Jonathan asks now.
“Yeah, were you gonna act like you still hate each other today?” Steve teases.
And you understand all the laughter. You and Eddie look at each other surprised and apparently this is also very funny because they start laughing again.
“Oh fuuuck” Jonathan starts mocking the way Eddie sounded last night also acting like moaning your name.
“Oh Eddie, so close!” Steve joins him acting like you.
Your face is as red as a tomato right now and you feel like you could just die, it would be better than taking whatever this is. You hide your face in Eddie’s shoulder after he just rolls his eyes fighting another smirk.
He laughs at you, put stills hugs you.
“You wanted us to like each other…” He defends you two.
“Yeah, apparently you took that very literal” Robin teases after catching her breath.
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson#eddie munson imagine#enemies to lovers
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I want them to go from willing to kill each other to be willing to kill FOR each other
#jegulus#wolfstar#the maruaders#regulus black#star chaser#dorlene#dorcas meadowes#marlene mckinnon#rosekiller#barty crouch jr#evan rosier#i just want intense hatred at first#enemies to lovers#the cruel prince#jude duarte#cardan greenbriar#nina zenik#six of crows#shadow and bone#matthias helvar
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Enemies to lovers is about someone who has significant reason to hurt you but… actively chooses not to: It’s comforting.
The more it personally costs them to have you the more you know they want you: It’s flattering.
They lower their defenses understanding that you could truly harm them yet they have faith in you: It’s affirming.
Enemies pay attention to you in a way strangers, friends, and allies never do. Hyper aware of your motives, your skills, your every move for potential threats. But even with the intensive scrutiny we are judged worthy of their loyalty and vulnerability and love: It’s absolving.
#enemies to lovers#drarry#reylo#klance#and#bakudeku#really dominate the ao3 works with enemies to lovers tagged#so this is for them#but I was thinking about#liujiu#sambucky#+#slay the princess#while writing this#thorn princess#my love
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Courted by the Dragon
Chapter 16 - Uncle
Aemond Targaryen is both the cause and witness to the greatest humiliation of your life. You would rather die than see him again. Yet summer at court and the precipice of civil war have other ideas.
Masterlist
~~~
When you make it into the centre of camp, you can still feel the press of Aemond’s touch on your body, and the heat of his kiss on your cheek, but there’s no time to slow your racing heart. The wheelhouse is already coming to a halt and the groom is hurrying to open the door.
Your mother emerges first, her face seemingly horrified by your tousled appearance, as she rushes to smooth your hair and pull a stray pin from where its clinging on for life.
“Just look at the state of you!” she hisses, and you wonder if your cheeks look as flushed as they feel.
“I think her appearance is quite becoming,” Alicent says, emerging from behind your mother’s frown with a coy smirk before she glances around for the whereabouts of her son.
“It was the wind,” you say, pushing your hair behind your ears while knowing fine well that the wind wasn’t the only thing which had tangled with it. There had been fingers, long, deft, and impossibly gentle.
Perhaps Alicent suspects as much, her head tilting, regarding your appearance with more scrutiny than before.
“Was it not the race?” she counters, and you swallow fresh nerves, wondering if everyone in the wheelhouse had noticed the way you and Aemond had charged down the road.
“That too...” you admit, and she hooks her arm into yours, tugging you into a leisurely walk towards her tent.
So much for staying with Cassandra , you think, glancing over your shoulder to where your mother and sisters are being left behind.
“And who won the race?” Alicent says, drawing your attention back to her face.
“I did, your grace.”
“Ahh,” she smiles excitedly, holding you tighter, her cheek touching your shoulder for just a moment, “and was my son an insufferable loser?”
You laugh, despite the nerves knotting in your stomach, you can’t help it. Insufferable was certainly a choice word for her second son, and though you think her completely accurate in her estimation, you dare not say it.
“Or is he just always insufferable?” she presses, seeming to sense your reluctance, and this time you manage to contain your amusement to a smile, though you’re feeling more at ease in her company.
“Perhaps we can agree that all men are at least a little insufferable?” you suggest, and now it's the queens turn to laugh, her body shaking, her arm holding you tighter.
“Only a little?” she says when she’s caught her breath, and you meet the mischievous look in her eye with a small smile before she releases your arm and gestures for you to enter the royal tent.
It's far bigger than it looks from the outside, and so bright and airy, with the sunlight diffused through the thick white linen and a pleasant breeze blowing in at just the right angle.
You take a seat on one of the green velvet floor cushions and Alicent sits across from you, before beckoning for a maid who places two cups on the low table and fills them almost to the brim with a honey-coloured wine.
“You know... you can tell me everything ,” she says in a hushed tone when the maid has gone, and you think it strange to gossip with the queen about such things as suitors, stranger still that her son is the man in question.
What could you possibly say? What did she want to hear?
You let those questions go unanswered for long enough that Alicent speaks again.
“I noticed you were riding Ōños,” she suggests, still trying to draw you into the conversation she wants to have, and her eyes are wide and probing, desperate for any scraps of information.
“I was.”
“Strange ,” she continues, undeterred by your lacklustre answer, “I don’t believe my son has ever allowed anyone else to ride his horse.”
“Then I should consider myself quite fortunate. Ōños is truly a wonderful horse.”
“If he is wonderful then it is thanks to Aemond, my son is so diligent in all matters as I'm sure you must have realised by now?”
“Prince Aemond is certainly...” single-minded, cocky, competitive, “ dedicated .”
She blows out a small breath of satisfaction, seeming glad to imagine that you might see him as she does. Her golden boy, her perfect son.
“He told me you almost beat him at Cyvasse the other day,” she smiles, delighted by the idea, and you try not to laugh. The last game you’d played with Aemond had been in his room, and he was letting you win, not succumbing to it.
“That is an exaggeration,” you insist, wondering what else Aemond might have mentioned to his mother.
Yet, her lips purse, and from the way she sighs, you imagine he has said as little as you are saying now, and you don’t know why, but you feel the sudden urge to reveal more. Maybe it's the way her eyes turn down or because, no matter the people surrounding her, she always seems so lonely.
“The prince...” you begin and already you regret your words, but you can’t stop now, “was so kind as to give me a tour of the library yesterday.”
“He did?” she brightens, “and what did you think?”
“That it was very beautiful.”
“And where you will always find my son, if you should ever have cause to look for him...” she leans forward, seeming to forget decorum in favour of answers, “ do you? Have cause to look for him I mean?”
“Not that I can recall,” you say, feeling certain that Aemond was not the only single-minded member of his house.
“Do you picnic here often?” you ask, changing the subject and Alicent’s eyes turn wistful, her gaze wandering across the camp.
“I used to bring my children here all the time when they were small, away from court where they could just be . It's so wonderful seeing Jaehaerys and Jaehaera here now.”
You turn your head, to look where she looks, and find them charging across the clearing with their wooden swords and shields clutched tightly in hand. But it's the determination furrowed into their brows which really catches your eye, and they seem to have only one opponent in mind when he strides from the woods- Aemond .
Your heart skips, your cheeks flushing again as you watch the kindly way he reacts to their advance. Dodging their strikes, his laughter teasing but not mocking, before he scoops Jaehaera up, stealing her sword and using it to repel her brother.
You watch them play for quite some time, content in the silence before the queen speaks again.
“If a lady might wish to stay at court...there is always ample space in my retinue.”
“That is very kind of you,” you admit, turning to face her, “but I am still very much looking forward to returning home.”
“Oh? And what, might I ask, is there to look forward to?” she pries, sipping her wine, her brow raised, “a suitor , perhaps?”
“Well... there is…” no suitor at all, only Lord Henry, but you could not tell the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms that you would rather return home to a cat instead of marrying her son, “my other sisters, of course.”
“Of course.” She stares at you for a long moment, her finger brushing the patten embossed on the cup, “so many Baratheon girls and not one proposal this summer? Your mother must be beside herself.”
“Not really,” you choke, glancing down to retrieve your own cup from the table and, when you look back at the Queen, her eyes have narrowed, as though she’s trying desperately to read your mind.
“I think my son-” she begins, just as the man in question arrives, chased by the excited war cries of his niece and nephew and, for once, you’re grateful for his overbearing presence, and the very welcomed distraction from whatever she was going to say next.
He falls on the rug dramatically and, from the queen's easy smile, you can tell this is not an unusual circumstance when the only eyes in the vicinity are that of family and very close friends.
“By order of the Queen, I command you to tickle him to death,” she says, and the twins cast their weapons down in fits of giggles, little fingers reaching for all the good tickle spots while you cannot possibly stop yourself from enjoying every single moment of the spectacle.
This was certainly not the Aemond you knew and loathed.
Yet , the more you thought about it, the more you realised that wasn’t true at all. Not anymore.
This was the Aemond who belonged entirely to the people who knew him best, and perhaps that number was limited to less than a handful, and maybe all of them were in this tent.
“Won’t my lady save me from these hellions?” he says, repelling their onslaught with so much gentleness and good humour that your poor heart was skipping yet again.
“I am afraid his grace is on his own, for I can see they are far too fierce to be trifled with,” you say, as though you are completely aghast at the suggestion.
“You are quite right,” Alicent agrees and Jaehaerys seems to enjoy your words, his chest puffing out before he retrieves his sword to deal the final killing blow to his uncle’s ribs.
You wince when it lands, knowing it must hurt terribly and that the winded groan is certainly not part of the game. But Aemond doesn’t shout or curse like your father would, he dies on the rug with more drama than he had fallen, and you must stifle your laughter with the palm of your hand.
Victorious, the children leave, in pursuit of a fresh victim while the queen prods her son back to life.
“I think you enjoy that even more than they do,” she says, and you suspect she might be right.
“I’m merely teaching them how to fight without mercy,” Aemond decides, his eye betraying the serious tone in his voice, as he sits up on his elbow with his hair ruffled from rolling around on the floor.
“Well, since you are in such a good mood for teaching, perhaps you’d like to show the Lady Baratheon how to play hoops?” Alicent suggests, scheming again.
“As it happens,” Aemond begins, a slow smile inching onto his lips, “I seem to be forgetting that I should be staying at least twenty paces from the lady Baratheon, that was the original agreement, was it not?”
You swallow, hard, remembering the details of your alternative agreement, the one where Aemond’s clothes had loosened from his body and your back had been pushed up against a tree.
But Alicent knows no such things and her excited stare flicks between yourself and her son.
“Twenty paces?” she asks quizzically and you’re suddenly wishing the twins really had run him through.
“It was a bet, your grace,” you say, giving Aemond a sharp look, a warning look.
“A forfeit, actually ,” he retorts, the smile still firmly fixed on his face.
“But why twenty paces?” Alicent prods, far too interested in the details, while your heart is pounding far too hard to think of anything good to say. Certainly not the truth.
That you cannot trust yourself with her son. That even now, when you feel like you might kill him for bringing up the forfeit, you’re more annoyed about the consequences. Because you don't want him to leave, not really. Then again, you don’t exactly want him to stay either.
It didn’t make sense, and you couldn’t explain it even to your own mind, but you needed Aemond Targaryen to be both twenty paces away and close enough to touch at the same time.
Gods , you hated him.
“I cannot speak for the ladies precise reasoning,” Aemond begins when it's clear you’re not going to say anything , and the wicked look in his eye is keen to make a fresh appearance, “but I believe she wishes to prevent any further attempts I might make in asking her to be my wife.”
“Further... attempts?” Alicent gasps, wanting to be certain she was hearing him correctly and she was. You'd heard it too.
Why had he said that? Like it was nothing, like it was just something people said.
��At least one more attempt,” he promises, pushing himself from the floor, his bow deep, and his eye only for you.
Then, without another word, he takes his leave, sauntering across the clearing for exactly twenty paces yet not nearly far enough considering how much you want to kill him!
Yet , killing him would have to wait and not just because of the witnesses milling around the clearing or even the way Alicent’s eyes are hot on your face. But because you can’t move or even breathe. Your mouth is hanging open and shock has drained all life from your limbs.
“Hm,” Alicent says, a smile completely overwhelming her face, “so it seems there has been at least one proposal this summer?”
Gods , you feel as though you could die from embarrassment, but you don’t, and you can’t exactly ignore the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
“Please ,” your voice is as weak as a kitten, your cheeks as bright as the dragon on the Targaryen sigil, “excuse me.”
She holds your stare, your stomach twisting with fresh knots before she nods with a small, pitying smile, “you’re excused. For now. ”
You can’t dwell on what exactly she means by that, and you don’t want to. You stand on shaky legs and do what you should have done when the wheelhouse arrived in camp.
You walk directly to Cassandra and cling to her side, feeling a heady mix of fury and anticipation each time you catch sight of Aemond, and recall the casual way he’d told his mother that he intended on proposing again .
It was yet another humiliation to add to your repertoire, and for a man who had no intention of ever embarrassing you, he was certainly well adapted to it.
You’re glad when it's time to leave and find yourself watching, with some regret, as Aemond races ahead of the procession with Ser Criston Cole, leaving you to travel with Ser Maurin as your only company.
You’d like to say it didn’t matter, that the views were entertainment enough, but you’d be lying. The ride is hot, long and incredibly dusty. Its nearly teatime when you finally make it back to the Red Keep and there is so much fanfare and chaos to mark your arrival that you’re almost certain something has happened while you were away.
The yard is crammed with people, double the amount from this morning and one of them is Otto Hightower, his face stark and serious as he waits to speak with his daughter.
Trying not to stare, you encourage Ōños towards the stable and you’re surprised to see Aemond is waiting for you, resting against a post with a book to occupy his time.
“I trust you enjoyed the ride home?” he says, looking up from the page before snapping the heavy cover shut.
With a sigh, you swipe the back of your hand across your forehead and give him a pointed look. “You know I didn’t.”
He smiles then, easing the book under his arm before opening the stable gate, and you wonder if Aemond’s the reason there are no stable boys or groomsmen to attend you.
“I did as you bid me to and remained at twenty paces for the duration of the picnic,” he says, swapping Ōños’ bridle for a halter and you have to admit, you were somewhat surprised that he’d managed to maintain his end of the forfeit, and less surprised when he reaches to pull you from the horse.
“Now we shall need to make up for it,” he says but you’d anticipated his touch and are quick to dismount on the opposite side to where he is standing with his arms still outstretched.
“His grace seems to be implying that I missed his company. I must assure him, I did not .”
When he laughs, the sound catches in the back of his throat, his arms falling back to his sides. “Then perhaps you’ll be glad to hear we had some guests arrive while we were at leisure.”
You think of the chaos in the yard along with the grave look on Otto’s face. “Who?”
“My sister.”
“Princess Rhaenyra?” you say, not really a question, more the testing of a name which you’ve rarely had cause to speak until now.
“One and the same,” Aemond answers, his tone flat, as he unbuckles Ōños’ saddle before passing you a long brush to brush him down.
A dozen questions spring to the tip of your tongue but you swallow them, suddenly recalling the knowing smirks which Alicent had been aiming at you all afternoon.
Still, it wasn’t Ōños’ fault that his master was the worst man in the entire world, so you don’t throw the brush back at Aemond like you’re tempted to do, you run it across Ōños’ silky white coat with the reverence he deserves.
Afterall, it wasn’t often you were expected to put away your own horse, but there was something strangely relaxing about the mundanity of the task, and you wonder if Aemond thinks it too.
He’s quiet, perhaps even a little pensive, as he inspects Ōños’ shoes before finding another brush so you can work together, and it's a comfortable silence. The hubbub of the courtyard barely carrying past the stable doors.
“I shall be eating dinner with my… family this evening. I don’t suppose you would care to join us?”
“Me?” you scoff. “I’m quite certain I would rather-” you don't say more, you meet his eye, ashamed of your reaction. Dinner with the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms was a great honour even if you didn’t want it.
“You’d rather what ?” he moves so he can search your face more readily, “throw yourself from the tallest tower of the keep instead of breaking bread with my sister and her bastards?”
Bastards?
You inhale sharply, your mind stumbling over the word and Aemond let’s its usage swell in the silence, his eye still studying you. Testing you in some way. Perhaps he wants you to challenge him, to call him a traitor, but you don’t. You’re afraid of even hearing such a word.
“Personally, I would rather throw myself into the mercy of the sea,” he admits, and his voice is soft, his fingers reaching to touch your hair, but you move away, thrusting the brush back into his hand.
Just because you harbour no wish to speak ill of his sister, does not mean you have no wish to speak on other matters, “do not think for one moment that I have already forgotten what you said in front of your mother!”
“What I said?” he asks, tilting his head as though he is completely oblivious, when you’re almost certain Aemond could count on one hand the amount of time’s he’d been oblivious to anything.
“You know what I’m talking about.” Marriage, proposals. It was not the sort of thing a person could easily forget.
Amusement flickers in his eye, “refresh my memory.”
“I will not,” you snap, attempting to leave him behind as you exit the stable, but there’s really no escaping Aemond Targaryen’s long stride, and he’s soon hooking his hand under your elbow.
“If you will not tell me of your complaint Lady Baratheon then please allow me to make you a promise...”
You glance back at him, regretting your curiosity the moment his eye darkens.
“Starting now,” he begins, leaning in as though you are conspiring, “it will be no secret that I want you, no matter who is watching us and, when you have my child in your belly, there will be no question over his parentage.”
No question over his parentage?
“There shall certainly be questions,” you retort tartly, snatching your arm away, “such as what in the world I was thinking in allowing you to put it there in the first place.”
“I can suggest at least one reason,” he says, and you hate his stupid arrogant smirk just as much as you wonder what the exact details of that one reason would be. But not enough to ask him, certainly not enough for that.
Instead, you turn back towards the keep and see a man stalking towards you, a stranger, yet you’re in little doubt of his pedigree. Even if it wasn’t for the white hair crowning his head, there’s a certain devilish cockiness which rests so comfortably on his face that you cannot help but think of Aemond. Just older, more battle worn, yet not worn out.
Almost all the women in the yard are watching the way he strides and perhaps it’s because his leather trousers are indecently tight, his shirt billowing in all the places where it doesn’t plaster to his skin.
You imagine he must have been practicing swordplay in the yard for quite some time, and the sword in question is still swinging in his hand, long and dangerous, steel glinting in the sunlight.
“This is my uncle, Prince Daemon,” Aemond says, when he comes to stand directly in front of you, “and this is my Lady Baratheon.”
“Your grace,” you curtsy, and Daemon sinks the tip of his sword into the dirt at your feet, his eyes slowly scraping from your face and down the entire length of your body as though he’s appraising every last inch.
“Well done, nephew,” he smirks, his gaze flicking to meet with Aemond’s and you gasp at the audacity in his tone, your temper flaring when Aemond says nothing to refute him.
In fact, when you tilt your head to glare at him, Aemond’s smiling as though he relishes his uncle's approval. As though the many weeks he’d spent tormenting you was, indeed , very well done.
“Do not allow my presence to interrupt whatever passionate conversation you were having,” Daemon adds, leaning into his sword, his brow raised and his head tilting expectantly.
You open your mouth to speak, to refute whatever ideas he might be having, but before any words break free, you feel Aemond’s hand on your back, the press of his fingers dulled by your cloak but impossible to ignore.
“I was just telling my lady that I shall escort her back to her chambers,” he says, his arm sliding to command yours and you don’t refuse him, doing so would surely be a humiliation on his part and you’re not cruel enough for that.
You dip into another curtsy for his uncle and allow Aemond to lead you away, stopping only when the yard is far from view, your arm hastening from his.
“I shall be glad to escort myself the rest of the way.”
“Very well,” Aemond concedes, his hand’s fastening behind his back, his head gesturing down the hall without complaint.
You start, both confused and surprised by how readily he’d allowed the rejection of his company, but you don’t question it.
You turn, thinking you should be pleased with the situation yet finding yourself quite vexed. And why? You certainly didn’t want Aemond Targaryen to escort you.
Or did you?
No , what you wanted was, in some ways, far worse. You wanted Aemond to want it enough to ignore your own stubborn resolve, and you couldn’t understand that desire any more than you could understand why you desperately wanted him to kiss you.
You begin to walk, cursing every part of your mind which seemed to be succumbing to his infuriating set of charms, and you barely make it more than five paces, before his steps have fallen in time with yours. Not by your side as before, but behind as though you were his lady and he your humble servant.
Stopping, you turn back to face him, “what are you doing?”
Resting back on his heel, Aemond seems to give great thought to the question before answering with a shrug as though it was quite obvious, “ walking .”
“But your room is in that direction,” you say, pointing back down the hall and a smile threatens his cheeks, his jaw tightening just enough to hold it at bay.
“I’m not going to my room, but I’m glad to know my lady has memorised its location.”
“Do not flatter yourself,” you say, quickly turning to hide your own smile, which has escaped, quite inexplicably, onto your face.
Then you begin to walk again, and a tall, leather shadow mirrors your every step. Not at all rebuffed by your stubborn resolve, but diligent, single-minded, and you can hardly stand yourself for how much you enjoy it. Or how forlorn you feel when you reach the door to your chamber, and he turns away.
~~~
Thank you for reading!! :)
#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#aemond fanfiction#aemond one eye#hotd aemond#hotd fanfic#house of the dragon#ewan mitchell#romance#female reader#enemies to lovers#aemond targaryen x oc#prince aemond#slow burn
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You're not Jealous?
"Who?" Hero asked again and tilted their head awkwardly.
Villain's hands danced in the air in a mocking gesture, "You know, that newer hero with the bright red hair." They chuckled, "Isn't that strange?"
The media loved it when civilians made Villain and Reddi a new couple; they hadn't known Reddi for long, and they had only left a small impression on them, nothing like what Hero was to them but enough to capture the civilian's interest. Enough to make them a pair and proudly display it wherever the internet's influence could spread, and for Villain, this would be a perfect opportunity to get their Hero's blood boiling. However, it seemed that jealousy wasn't on the list of emotions Hero could display.
"Well?" Villain egged.
Hero shrugged, almost confused at how to respond. Were they too angry to properly convey their emotions or too ashamed that they held feelings for someone they weren't supposed to? Did they have any of those feelings at all? It was hard to assume when it came to Hero. Their expressions never gave way to a proper answer, and the response desired didn't appear. Maybe Hero wasn't looking at it from their perspective, but for Villain, this was Hero's only chance to prove what they had always believed.
"I don't know, Villain. The world has a funny way of twisting things. Congratulations, I suppose."
Congratulations?
What?
Villain laughed in a sudden burst of spontaneity, "No, no, no, I don't even know Reddi like that. It's a comical way of sorting two people together."
They smiled back softly, uncertain of what to make of the topic. Just a moment ago, they had been sparring like usual, but Villain's sudden shift to this conversation did make them think for a bit.
Villain couldn't decide what was next, they wanted Hero to get angry, but this wasn't what they planned. Reddi was a lot stronger than Hero in all aspects, but it wasn't as if Villain valued just physical strength and they'd hoped Hero would get the message by now.
For Hero, it would just seem so pointless to fight about it. "I'm not one for starting an argument about that if that's what you're suggesting." They tucked a strand of hair, slightly fiddling with it as a distraction. If Villain wanted to, they would. Hero has seen everything they're capable of, and they wouldn't hold them back from any new interests.
"Hero, I'm…" They took a breath, a little startled at the lack of care. "I'm not one for these ridiculous rumours either, but wouldn't it be a little more sensible if they had at least chosen a more… fitting partner for me?"
"Well, let's not take these things too seriously. They don't know you after all--"
"It's a bit frustrating, though," They stepped closer. How was Hero not angry yet? Does nothing stir them? "I would be pretty frustrated after being a villain for years, and they still can't seem to get anything right."
"Villain--"
"If it was the other way around, I wouldn't take it."
Hero remained silent this time, contemplating whether they were supposed to respond or not. Villain had never been so openly passionate about a topic concerning civilian speculations about their city's greatest heroes and villains. "What's wrong, Villain?"
Villain's brows furrowed, and their breath slowed. It was the first time they had felt their heart race so much at something so trivial. Perhaps they really were blowing this way out of proportion. "Because you were supposed to…" Their pulse beat so loud it was heard in their ear. Villain thought they might've just fainted. "I just need to know we didn't do all this for nothing."
It was hard putting words together, a lot harder than planning any deadly plan to undermine the entire city. What Villain kept out was their desire to be chased. Any hint at all from Hero at this point would suffice, just to prove to them that their advances wouldn't go unanswered for too long and that there would be an eventual end goal. However, Hero wasn't budging; their eyes looked sorrowful this time, and their fists were uncurled. Villain slowly moved to reach for their hand, hesitant but still searching for the version of Hero they'd assembled throughout their interactions.
"It's strange isn't it?" They spoke softer this time; Villain stared longingly into their eyes. "That I'm the one feeling this way instead of you."
Hero sighed as they felt their fingers cross with Villain's. "You wanted me to get all worked up over you." They smiled gently at them; a mix of new expressions patterned their face as their tongue battled to keep the secrets they'd been harbouring down their throat. "What would I do to stop you anyway?"
"What?" They breathed a bit startled at Hero's words. "Why wouldn't you?"
"I've seen your work a million times, Villain." They chuckled, their voice edging a certain forcefulness. "You're very thorough with what you do and how to get what you want. If you wanted something, you'd already have it by now."
The sun started to hide its rays behind the clouds, and Villain felt their adversary's hand slipping away from their grasp. "Some things are just harder to get." They said as their grip tightened with desperation.
"Some things preferred they'd ask nicely," They gazed at them with a timid look. "Without the games."
Villain eyed them further as their voice fell into a whisper. "Some things are harder to say." Though, they didn't think it would take long for Hero to have them all figured out by now.
Hero reached over to them and held the criminal's face in their hands with expectation. "Then show me." They leaned in and met Villain's lips in the middle, an uneasy shift, now fixated in its spot.
~~~
MASTERLIST
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#writing prompt#imagine your otp#pining prompts#enemies to lovers#villain x hero#hero x villain#heroxvillain#villainxhero#jealousy dialogues#jealousy prompts#jealousy dialogue#unrequited love prompts
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Draw your characters like this 💕
#she ra and the princesses of power#drawing prompts#otp prompts#draw your otp like this#grumpy and sunshine#entrapdak#Annoyed and happy#Good and evil#otp#Enemies to lovers#Reluctant allies#Angry and calm#2 people#draw your otp#draw the otp#draw your ship#otp ideas#otp things#otp meme#tag your otp#draw your characters#draw your ocs#pose reference#draw the ocs#tag your ocs#imagine your ocs#draw your characters like this
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Prompt (#7)
The morning sunlight shone in through the window, the tiny gap in the curtains letting in enough light to rouse the hero. They groaned, rubbing at their eyes. Waking with the sun wasn't new, and they were prepared for it like they were every other day. The difference between every other day and today is the fact that they weren't alone in their bed. As they moved, the person in bed behind them tightened their grip on the hero's waist, pressing a sleepy kiss to their back.
“Don't get up yet,” the villain murmured.
“I have work today,” the hero replied. “If I don't show up, people will ask questions–”
“Let them ask,” they said resolutely, moving their kisses up to the hero's neck. “It’s not like I'm out there scheming. The city's safe.”
They raised a good point.
#hero x villain#heroes and villains#hero prompt#villain prompt#oc prompt#otp prompt#creative writing#writers on tumblr#writeblr#enemies to lovers
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Kara: why do you call yourself my villain? You’re not even that villainous!
Y/N: do you really want to know?
Kara: yeah
Y/N: I-I wanted an excuse to spend time with you. You’re so beautiful and strong and smart and I…I wanted an excuse to be near you
Kara giggles and pulls Y/N into her arms…
Kara: I don’t need a supervillain, but I’ll settle for a super lover
Y/N: I’ll take it!
#dc#dcu#dc comics#dc universe#dc supergirl#supergirl#supergirl x reader#supergirl x villain reader#superhero x villain#hero x villain#enemies to lovers#kara danvers#kara zor el#milly alcock
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Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]
Chapter 3: The Debrief
Summary: John "Soap" MacTavish has hated you since the very first day you arrived on base and joined their Task Force. You argue all the time, and one day, it pushes Captain Price to his absolute limit. He sends you both away to an isolated cabin in the woods for a week in hopes you can put aside your differences and bond. Will it work? Or will you two just end up hating each other even more?
This is a slow burn enemies to lovers fan fiction featuring Soap and you, the reader.
Word Count: 5,581
Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Soap is mean, like really mean, smut later to come, rough smut, lots of swearing, violence, descriptive, blood, angst, fluff, slow burn, (more to come as I write)
A/N: Enjoy this one!
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Bitter Allies • Part 3
It was a relief when you finally pulled up to the rendezvous site. Medics were already on standby outside of the helo with a stretcher and supplies. Ghost, in his classic white skull mask, stood among them, watching as your transport rolled in.
Soap was the first one out, giving information to the medical team as they rushed up to take General Azamat away. You slipped out the other side, walking around the vehicle and straight to the waiting helicopter. The General's blood still stained your hands, and you wanted desperately to wash them. Before you can board though, you pass by Ghost, who stops you by grabbing your arm.
"You look like shit. He give you trouble?" Ghost asks, his voice gruff. Ghost wasn't a man of many words, but there always was an odd comfort in the way he spoke. Though to anyone outside of the military, he probably just seemed intimidating and rude.
"Doesn't he always?" You answer your lieutenant, glancing back over to your shoulder as you watched Soap help the medics lift General Azamat onto the stretcher. Ghost follows your gaze and lets go of your arm.
"Go get cleaned up. You did good today." His words gave you a little reassurance, but you aren't too accepting of them at the moment.
"Johnny would disagree." You grumble to Ghost before stepping up into the helo.
The entire mission seemed like a reck from the very beginning. Nothing seemed to go smoothly. Maybe it was just because you were working with Soap. Or maybe it was because you felt like you'd made too many mistakes, ones that Soap was more than happy to point out constantly. Then again, why should you care what he thought? Maybe things did go fairly well, and you just couldn't see that right now. All you knew was that you were exhausted, and your hands were dirty.
You only had access to wet wipes and rubbing alcohol until you got back to base but that was far better than just sitting with someone else's blood staining your hands. Pulling them from a small metal cabinet attached to the side of the helo, you sit down and get to work on scrubbing away at your hands. Slowly the white pristine cloths turn pink.
Shortly after you get to scrubbing your hands, the General is loaded up next to you. The medics are a mass of chaotic movement as they tend to him, and you find yourself getting up to move to a different spot.
Right as you find a calmer place to sit on the other side of the helicopter, there's a single muddy boot stepping into your line of sight. Looking up, you see Soap is trying to board, and you lock eyes with him for a long tense moment. Him mid-step up onto the helo, and you staying firmly planted where you'd sat down. Before anything can start, Ghost steps in.
"Problem?" He asks, breaking Soap out of his frozen state. Soap steps back down then so both of his feet are firmly planted on the ground.
"With her? Several." He mutters, eyes staying locked onto yours. You roll your eyes at him, clenching your jaw.
"That's enough, Soap." Ghost scolds, his voice firm. "You're going to have to wait for the next bird anyway. This one's full." He continues, which was the best news you'd heard all day. "See you on base, States." Ghost adds.
With that, Ghost gives two rough pats to the side of the metal helo, and the blades start to whirl faster. Before you can fully leave though, you can't help but make one more jab at your annoying field partner.
"Hope next time it doesn't hit the plate!" You shout over the loud sounds of the chopper taking off. You didn't really mean that, but exhaustion and stress were getting the better of you, and you were annoyed.
"Oh, thanks for the parting wish, States! You're a real charmer!!" He shouts back, trying to take a step closer, but Ghost puts an arm in front of him to keep him back.
You roll your eyes and slide the helo door shut. Through the little window, you watch as Soap and Ghost back further away from the helicopter. Ghost gives a thumbs up to the pilot, signaling they were all clear, and then it starts to lift off the ground. Peace until you land back on base and inevitably run into Soap again.
***
Ghost and Soap watch as the bird takes off, carrying their target and teammate away. The next transport would be arriving shortly to take the remaining men and women back. For now, they just needed to sit tight.
As soon as the loud sounds of the helo were fading into the distance, Soap lets out a long groan and rolls his neck and shoulders. Typically, Ghost preferred to stay away from their drama, but his brother-in-arms and close friend seemed a little more tense than usual.
"What was that all about?" He ventures, watching Soap cross his arms tightly across his chest.
"Ah, just fucking stateside bonnie boakin'," he mutters under his breath. "I swear she purposely acts like a brat just to piss me off. Well, she's doing a bloody good job at that, ain't she?" He continues on, letting out a stressed laugh as Ghost continues to listen silently. "Never thought I'd ever meet someone who just grates on my nerves as much as she does."
"I think she'd say the same about you." Ghost replies, getting more exasperated expressions from the Scot.
"Are you really siding with her?! I tell her fucking no, and she does the opposite, I tell her what to do, and she rolls her eyes at me like a fucking child! Whenever she's around, I can just feel my shoulders get tense, and I just had to do an entire mission like that with her!"
Ghost huffs as he listens to Soap. "You two just need to fuck and get it out of your system."
Soap nearly choked on his own spit at Ghost's remark. Ghost was pretty blunt at times, but this was a whole new level. He ran a hand over his face, his cheeks coloring slightly at the thought of even sleeping with States. He'd rather die than ever sleep with her.
"Go fuck yourself, Ghost." He retorted, thinking the man must have been joking. This was just one of Ghost's dry humored jokes. "If you really think sex is going to fix anything, you're as delusional as her." Annoyance was beginning to creep back into his tone.
Ghost rolls his eyes at the Sergeant, though doesn't let him see that. "You never heard of hate-fucking? Sex is a great way to let off steam. Releases tension. And you and States got so much damn tension." Ghost took that moment to light a cigarette then, putting his mask up just enough to light it and take a drag. "Gives me fucking headache," he continues, exhaling slowly. "Watching you two fight all the damn time."
"Well you're just full of great advice, aren't you then?" He rolls his eyes sarcastically, still a bit stunned at his lieutenant's words. "As thrilling as that sounds," Ghost raises a brow at him, making Soap's tone change to a more harsh one. "I prefer my sex not to come with a big ol'side of hostility. What, do you like her or something and want to live vicariously through me?"
Ghost lets out a laugh, which for him was just a light huff of air. Either way, it was very rare for Ghost to laugh at anything. "I'm not the relationship type, Johnny." He says simply, taking another short puff of his cigarette. "Besides," he exhales the smoke. "If she means nothing, then why are you getting all testy about it?"
"I'm not testy!" He retorts defensively, his tone somewhat contradictory to what he was trying to prove. He realizes this and takes a deep breath to calm down. "I just... I don't like her. That's all. There isn't anything deeper than that." There couldn't be anything deeper. He refused to even venture down that path. "Let's just drop it. I don't want to talk about her anymore, and I don't want to fuck her either. End of story."
Ghost had a slight smirk on his face. Whether or not Soap did have deeper feelings beyond hate for the 141 girl, it was just a little amusing to see him so worked up. He didn't really care too much if he was right or wrong. "Whatever you say, Johnny." He muses, finishing off his cigarette and flicking it to the ground to stomp it out.
In the distance, he could hear the spinning blades of the second helo. He hears Soap grumble at his response, clearly not happy that Ghost was acting like he didn't believe him.
As soon as the big metal bird landed, Soap was rushing to board it. Ghost doesn't push the subject of him and States any further though. It was fun to tease the Sergeant and get him worked up, but Ghost knew when to stop too. Still, that doesn't stop Ghost from smirking as he follows him to the helicopter.
***
By the time you arrive on base, you just want to collapse in your room and sleep. First you need to shower though. Blood, sweat, and dirt stuck to your skin, weighting down your tired body even more. You hope that the showers aren't full and that you'll be able to grab one rather quickly. You want to get in some sleep before the mission debrief.
The helicopter doors slide open, and you jump out, feet hitting the tarmac. A dull ache shoots up your legs, a familiar feeling post mission.
Up ahead, you can see Captain Price is waiting. He always touches base with each squad member upon their return from a mission if he's around. It's a rather sweet gesture.
He's standing with his arms behind his back, feet spread shoulder length apart, and spine straight as a board. The bucket hat he never goes anywhere without is atop his head, threatening to blow off due to the wind caused by the helicopter and of course a cigar between his lips. Despite the tiredness, you're happy to see him.
"States, glad you see you've returned to us in one piece." He teases. His eyes crinkle up at the sides, yet they still remain hardened from all the time he's served.
You give him a smile, allowing yourself to stop and enjoy his company. "I don't feel like I'm in one piece. This was a rough one." You admit easily. Despite only knowing him for six months, Price was a man you trusted deeply.
Price raises his brow at your response, looking a little surprised by your answer. "I heard the update from Ghost. Sounds like some unexpected challenges came up. Nothing I didn't think you couldn't handle."
"Just... beating myself up about it. I don't like deviating from the plan." It wasn't a lie, but not the whole truth either.
"Important lesson to be learned there, States. No matter how much you plan for something, never count on it being final. You will never be able to plan for everything. This life will always take you by surprise. You can either let it get you down, or you can run with it."
You can't help but smile at the old man. "Thanks Price. You and your old man wisdom. I'll file that one away."
Price chuckles softly, though you can tell he's trying to read you right now. He's very subtle about it, but you've learned how to detect it. His eyes give him away.
"I might be old, but I'm not blind. What else is buggin' you?"
Of course he'd notice. Nothing gets past the Captain. "What do you think?" You injury, watching as he shifts his weight and crosses his arms.
"Hmm..." He mocks like he needs to think about it. "Wouldn't be MacTavish would it?"
"Wow, that's insane. How'd you know?" You banter, watching as he rolled his eyes at your jesting.
"Lucky guess." He says simply.
"You put us together on a mission," you state, getting a nod from your Captain.
"I did." He confirms.
"Why?" You frown. Price knew you didn't get along. He knew nothing good came from you two being in the same room. Yet for some reason, he sent you out with him anyway.
Price sighs softly, looking away from you for a moment as if he needed to think out what he wanted to say. After a moment, he answers you.
"I don't think you realize the potential of just how good of a team you and Soap could be." He starts. You open your mouth to disagree, but Price holds up a hand to silence you before continuing.
"This mission required someone who can move quick and clean out a building fast. I've never seen someone able to clear out a building like Soap can. And he can do that regardless on if it's stealth or chaos. But when he doesn't know what to do, he slows down. You can think quick under pressure. No matter how stressful things get, you always deliver. You always know how to continue the mission. That combination of skill was perfect for this mission."
You look away from the Captain, not wanting to believe him, but the mission today proved how right Price was. It may have taken a life or death situation, but you and Soap worked together for the first time today, and it was rather incredible. Even you were shocked at how well and quick you moved together, even with a few hiccups. If you just didn't hate each other that combination could be practiced and refined even more.
"But he hates me, Price."
"I don't think he does." Price counters, but you don't believe him. Just like how he said Soap would warm up to you.
"He absolutely does."
"Well the mission was more than less a success. Seems like you've at least had a break through."
You laugh at that, though you can't blame Price for that assumption. You also thought so until Soap reverted back to being a dick.
"Respectfully, Captain, I think you're wrong. Nothing has changed. And I don't know if it ever will."
Before your conversation can continue, the sound of the second helicopter flying in draws your attention to the sky. Soap was on that helo. Unless you'd miraculously gotten your wish, and he'd fallen out on the way over.
Doubtful.
"That's my cue to head out, Cap. I'll see you at the debrief." You tell him, getting a nod from your Captain. You give his arm a pat as you pass by him, catching his parting words.
"You better be heading to the showers! You show up to debrief smelling like shit, and I'll have you cleaning bathrooms for a week!"
***
Soap is both relieved to be back on base as well as dreading it. Relieved because this is his home, a place where he is safe and can rest, and dreading it because the biggest thorn in his side was also here. Where, he wasn't sure, but she was here.
He was currently giving Ghost the silent treatment, childish as it may be. Though he hadn't really gotten the chance to ignore him either. Ghost was fairly silent on the trip back to base, though Soap should have known better than to think he'd be super talkative. Maybe the things Ghost said earlier was just a way to shut him up so he could enjoy a peaceful ride back, but Soap knew Ghost would never lie to him either.
Soap really just wanted to be alone for a bit. Take a nice hot shower to clear his head, maybe get something to eat. He still had the mission debrief he needed to go to later, and he knew he'd run into States there. So really all he needed to do was survive another few hours in her presence and then he can be free of her for a little bit.
As he jumps off the helo, he's already looking around for Price. If he wasn't off on a mission himself or too busy there was usually a 50/50 chance he'd be there post mission. And sure enough, it doesn't take Soap long to spot the Brit. Unfortunately, he really didn't feel up to talking. There was no way to avoid Price though. He stood right where Soap needed to go to leave.
He approaches his Captain, giving him a nod in greeting and hoping he could just slip by. "Captain." He mutters as he attempts to just walk past him.
"Got somewhere you need to be?" Price asks him, turning to look at Soap as he stops by the ramp that leads down to the ground.
"Just wanting to hit the showers." Soap grumbles, unable to keep his irritation from his voice.
Sensing the Sergeant was on edge, Price simply nods, allowing Soap to leave. "Just be on time for the mission debrief." He tells the solider. Soap gives a nod and is off. Price watches him leave, a frown pulling at his lips.
Ghost slowly makes his way over to Price, having watched the encounter between the Sergeant and the Captain. Price was still watching where Soap had just made his exit. "Was it really that bad?" He asks the Lieutenant.
Ghost's voice was steady, a hint of fatigue underlying his words. "It was pretty rough," he replied. "They're like oil and water. Fought the whole way. Thought they might've killed each other at one point—I guess States just got into some trouble. Not really sure."
He paused a moment before continuing. "When it got serious, they managed to get it done. First time I've ever really seen them do a half decent job together. It was still sloppy. States and Soap need to sort their shit out.”
Price lets out a long sigh. "Sucks that the only thing that makes them work together is when their life depends on it."
"I don't think today was a total failure for them." Ghost reassures Price. "At least we know when it matters they'll have each other's backs. They might just need more time."
"I've given them six months. I thought for sure Soap would come around by now."
"Just give them time, old man. Let things settle. I think Johnny'll come around yet."
***
The one thing you hated most about the base you currently resided on was that you were not given your own showers. Your room didn't even have a bathroom to get ready in. There was a communal bathroom in both the men's and women's barracks, equipped with toilets, sinks, and mirrors, but the shower house was a completely different building.
The men's and women's shower houses were separate but they were still right next to each other. The odd design choice could be explained by the fact that the base was older. Back in the day, they didn't have many females in the armed forces, so the shower house was only designed for one gender. When more and more women began to sign up, they simply just modified the current shower house instead of building a new one.
This design meant that the showers were always fairly crowded. And this was unfortunately the reality you faced as you approached the building. There was a line out the door for both the men's and women's section. Sighing, you had no choice but to join the back of the line. Not only were you desperate for a shower, but you also headed Price's warming that if you stank at the mission debrief, there'd be consequences. You really had no choice.
You'd only been waiting for about five minutes before the universe decided to bless you once again. Right as your line was beginning to move up, right as you thought you'd be able to make it into the shower house without running into your field mate, you hear his voice.
"Oh you are fucking with me." You hear him say as he realizes you were also in line. You turn to look towards Soap, watching as he stepped into the men's line, right alongside the women's. You scowl him, folding your arms across your chest as you look him over.
He was covered in a layer of dirt from the mission, and he stank. As you look at the items he was carrying, you can help but raise your brows in surprise.
"How the hell are you taking a shower with only body wash and a wash cloth?" You had a whole set of shampoo, conditioner, soap, face wash, body scrub, a razor, a loofa, deodorant, and a moisturizer. Given this wasn't your everyday routine. Just the one you did after missions to get the blood off you and help you destress. All he had though was a single tiny bottle of body wash. It wasn't even good body wash. It was the crappy stuff they issued to everyone in the military for free.
Soap looks over the shower bag you carried, rolling his eyes as he viewed all the products you had with you. "This is more than enough to get clean. You don't need all that fancy shite." He claims. "This is the military, not a five star hotel or a spa."
"Just cause we're in the military doesn't mean we can't have good hygiene." You grumble back.
"My hygiene is fine."
"Says the man about to only wash his armpits."
"I can wash my whole body with this."
"What about your hair? Just cause you don't have a lot of it doesn't mean you shouldn't wash that too. Oh God..." you realize it then, your face scrunching up. "Please don't tell me you wash your hair with fucking body wash."
"It's an all-in-one wash, princess. It's meant to be used for everything." Soap growls out, getting annoyed very fast.
"Don't you dare call me, princess, John." You knew he hated it when you called him by his first name. But if he was going to be calling you names, then two could play at that game. And boy did he hate that. His face got red as he glared at you.
"Why don't you just worry about your own damn self?! Like figuring out what you're going to tell Price at the mission debrief when it comes up you almost fucked up our cover! Worry about not getting kicked off the team. Or don't, cause I'd love to watch your bonnie little ass walk off this base!" He snaps, his raised voice getting the attention of the officer standing guard near the front of the line at the shower house's entrance.
"Hey! Break it up!" He yells at you both. "If you're going to cause problems then you don't get to shower!"
You and Soap both clench your jaws, glaring daggers at each other and throwing silent threats back and forth with your eyes. "See you at the debrief, States." Soap whispers lowly before turning his gaze forward.
"Get some damn shampoo." You whisper back, mirroring his action and also looking forward.
***
You can't say that taking a shower made you feel much better. You blamed that on Soap. Maybe the shower would have been a lot better had it not been for his awful company.
Now you found yourself standing outside of the debrief room. Normally you weren't too nervous about post mission debriefs, but this one felt different. Soap was in your head, and you worried you really had messed up.
Off in your own little world, staring at the door, you jump hearing a voice.
"You having a staring contest with that door? I hate it say it, but I think it's probably gonna win." It was Gaz. You're not sure how long he'd been standing there. His warm chocolate eyes met yours, and they go from amused to slightly concerned.
"You alright, States?" He asks softly, and you give him a smile.
"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just been a long day." You reassure him, finally grabbed the door handle and pushing it open, not giving him a chance to ask anything further.
"Just take it easy, yeah? We've all had tough missions." He smiles, giving your back a gentle pat before taking a seat.
Soap was already inside, chatting away with Ghost. They were sitting next to each other, while Price was standing in the front with Kate Laswell on a screen. Normally she joined you this way. It was rare she was ever in the area to be in-person.
Gaz takes a seat across from Ghost, leaving you to sit across from Soap. It was a rather large table, so there was a sizable distance between you. That doesn't keep Soap from eyeing you as you take a seat though.
"What?" You inquire defensively when he won't stop.
"Oh, nothing. Just want to make sure my poor hygiene isn't bothering your sensitive nose." He throws back, getting an elbow to the ribs from Ghost. A warning.
"Alright," Price says, making everyone in the room turn their focus to him. He was looking right at you and Soap. "Now that everyone is here, let's get started. Let's try to stay on task too, yeah?"
A mixture of "yes sir" or "aye sir" filled the room, and the debrief started.
It began as all debriefs did, with an overview of the mission objectives. Then discussion began on if each one was met. This part of the debrief had actually gone fairly smoothly. All main objectives had been met in one way or another. It wasn't until you got to the part where you'd needed to deviate from the plan that it started going south.
"So as we all know," Price began. "A Russian convoy began to approach the base within 0800. This resulted in our Bravo team having to stray from our original plan."
"Thanks to States, we got back on track quickly." Ghost fills in. "It was her idea to have Alpha team move in so her and Soap could infiltrate the West building."
Price nods towards you. "Good call on that, States. Your plan worked well."
That brings a smile to your face for a moment until you hear Soap huff a little and mutter, "give me a break," under his breath. You turn your gaze to him, jaw tight. He's sitting slouched in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, and still looking towards.
"As solid a plan as it was though, it seems it took Bravo team a long time to reach the West building. Who's to say a back up plan would have been needed if this objective was met sooner." Laswell adds. "It looks like comms went silent for a while. Soap care to weight on what happened during that time?"
Soap was smiling, but he just shakes his head. "Nah, States can probably fill you in better since it was her doing." He says, making you glare harshly at him.
"Laswell asked-" Price starts, but is cut off by you.
"There was a group of four men, and I wanted to take them out so we could continue on the faster route to the building. Soap didn't want to be a team player and wouldn't help me." You start in, making Soap instantly glare at you for, what he believed to be, twisting the story.
"Don't you dare twist this like it was my fault!" He exclaims, before looking back to Price and continuing. "I said it was too risky and opted to go around. But she just had to prove a point and went in to take on four men all by herself!" He points a finger at you.
"It wasn't too risky! You just didn't want to do it cause it was my idea!"
"Who the fuck cares!? You don't do that and put your partner and the entire mission at risk!"
"It was fine! I took out three and you got the last one! Nothing bad happened!"
"Yeah, I took him out right as he was about to call for back up! It's a bloody good thing I got there in time! And just cause nothing bad happened doesn't mean-"
"Enough! Stop!" Price yells. "You were asked a bloody question, fucking answer it and stop addressing each other!" He growls before repeating Laswell's question. "Now, why didn't you make it to your objective in a timely manner?"
"Cause States got a big ego and took on four men herself, and we had to take time to clean up the mess." Soap answers, making you slam a fist to the table.
"That took thirty seconds at most! We were late cause Soap had to lecture me for five minutes about it!" You counter.
"Cause you almost bloody got us killed!" Soap shouts back.
"You're being so fucking dramatic, MacTavish!"
"ENOUGH!!" Price yells, slamming both fists to the table. "Bloody hell! This," he motions between you and Soap. "I've had enough of this! The bickering, the glaring, the dirty looks. I've had enough!" He berated you.
"You two are going to like each other, or at the very least tolerate each other. Pack your shit tonight. I'm sending you both away for team bonding. One week. You two, by yourselves, in the middle of fucking nowhere."
Soap's jaw clenched as Captain Price's words echoed around the debriefing room. His blue eyes narrowed at you before looking back to Price. He didn't want this anymore than you did.
"Sir, with all due respect..." he began, managing to keep his voice steady despite the absolute shitstorm brewing inside of him. But Price raised a hand, cutting him off.
"No, Soap. This is final. I don't want to hear another word."
Soap was furious A week. A week in the middle of nowhere with you. The thought alone was enough to make him want to throw something.
His fists clenched as he glared at the women across from him. This was your fault. All of it. He felt the anger rise up in him as he met your eyes and held your gaze.
"Hope you're fucking happy," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
You growl at him, about to make a nasty retort, but Price stops you.
"No! No more fighting on this base. One of you opens your mouth again, and I'm making it two weeks." He threatens, making you swallow the words you had for Soap.
"Price..." You address carefully. "I don't see how-"
"Is that 2 weeks I'm hearing, States?" He raises his voice again, showing how serious he was. It makes you clamp your mouth shut.
"No sir." You answers shortly.
"Good. You two are dismissed. Pack. You're leaving at 0400 hours." When you and Soap didn't make a move to get up, Price reiterated. "Right now! Go!"
Nothing more was said. You and Soap both got up and went to the door. Even in the hallway as you both headed towards the barracks, Soap didn't say a word, and you weren't about to break the silence either. You could practically feel the anger radiating off him though.
A whole fucking week together. This was going to be hell.
You parted ways shortly after, Soap's pace a lot faster than yours. You did see him make the turn for his barracks though before you went to yours.
***
Soap entered his room and slammed the door, his hand scraped over his stubble, frustration gnawing at his insides. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his whirring mind. The thought of being stuck with you for an entire week was enough to make his blood boil.
"Calm down, MacTavish," he muttered to himself, his Scottish accent thick with irritation. "You've survived worse." He tries to tell himself, though a week with you seemed like hell to him.
He growls and kicks his dresser. This was all your fault. He'd been looking forward to his next mission without you, or maybe even a little time off. But no. He got to spend a week alone with you.
All he could hope was that you'd make it through the week without killing each other. Shaking his head, he starts to pack furiously.
This was going to be a long week...
***
When you got to your barracks, you leaned back against the door and buried your face in your hands. You tried to come to terms with the fact that you were about to spend a week with Soap MacTavish. Alone. In the middle of nowhere.
This was your nightmare.
You stayed where you were a good five minutes while you let yourself calm down. Your heart was hammering in your chest.
"A week could go by fast though, right? You didn't even need to speak to him during those seven days... you can do this..." You mutter to yourself, as if saying it out loud would somehow make it true.
Sighing softly, you start to pack, pulling out your military duffle bag from under your bed. Despite you trying to convince yourself otherwise, you knew deep down this was going to be a long week.
#soap cod#call of duty#ghost cod#ghost riley#soap mactavish#soap smut#soap mactavish smut#soap x you#soap x reader#soap call of duty#john soap mactavish#soap x y/n#soap x reader smut#soap mactavish and reader smut#enemies to lovers#john price#captain price#kyle gaz garrick#cod reader insert#call of duty soap#john mactavish#John mactavish and reader smut#john soap mctavish x reader#john soap mctavish smut#smut#simon ghost riley#ghost call of duty#ghost x reader#dad price#reader and soap
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#black widow#haikyuu fanart#picture#Katelyn Runck#miguel o’hara smut#enemies to lovers#nine inch nails#cinnamon#hq x reader#salud mental#toph beifong#wang yibo
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Welcome back to another post for the directory of fic recs on my blog! If you would like a specific theme or trope, let me know!
As always, these are all fics I have read and loved, not all the fics out there. You can find more Enemies to Lovers fics here and here!
**This post will be updated as I have more fics in this theme to recommend!**
Wild And Unruly || @100percentsassy @gloriaandrews || 123.6k
Cowboy Harry, Lawyer Louis, Strangers to Enemies to Lovers
Full Moon Dreaming || @jacaranda-bloom || 43.2k
Soulmate AU, Enemies to Lovers, Firefighters
picking up the pieces || @falsegoodnight || 37.6k
Omegaverse, Childhood Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Fake Relationship, High School Reunions
voicemail sings a wreck || @falsegoodnight || 37k
Omegaverse, College AU, American AU, Enemies to Lovers, Frat AU
Under your skin, Over the moon || @softfonds || 35.4k
Film Adaptation AU, Princess Diaries AU, Modern Royalty AU, Enemies to Lovers, Loss of Virginity, Prince Harry
It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year Series || @2tiedships2 || 32.4k
Omegaverse, Strangers to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Snow Storm
Leave Your Mark On Me || @kingsofeverything || 32k
Omegaverse, Restaurant AU, Fake Bonds, Enemies to Friends to Lovers
Cut me up, kiss me harder || @lunarheslwt || 9.4k
Omegaverse, Alpha Harry, Omega Louis, Enemies to Lovers, Spin the Bottle
All I know is I’m in trouble (‘cause the atmosphere’s so cold) || @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed || 8.4k
Winter, Ski Trip, Enemies to Lovers, Miscommunication
I’ll be There || @allwaswell16 || 5k
Uni!AU, Sick Louis, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers
Mistletoe Cove || @wabadabadaba || 4.8k
Enemies to Lovers (light), American AU, Winter
Feel My Traces || @enchantedlandcoffee || 2k
Enemies with Benefits to Lovers, Uni AU, Getting Together
#tracksintheam#trackinghappily#trackinghome#1dsource#fic rec#fic rec list#larry fic rec#my fic rec lists#enemies to lovers#gonna start posting these on friday#so you can read on the weekends#slay!
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#male model#black widow#haikyuu fanart#picture#Katelyn Runck#miguel o’hara smut#enemies to lovers#nine inch nails#hq x reader#toph beifong#jasper hale#furby
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PT2 OF THE FRETTING HAND PLSPLSPLS
The Fretting Hand. (Part 2.)
Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.
warning: 18+ smuttt, oral sex (m recieving), bickering per usual, overall filth bru
part 1.
"your turn," you muttered against his lips. you attached your lips to his with the same intensity he had while his fingers were inside of you. even though you were sore already, that didn't prevent you from wanting more of him. "wanna taste you." you muttered in between kisses.
"yeah? i bet you do," he smirked, sinking his teeth into your lower lip. the sudden pain made you shudder, but turned you on even more."all you want is my fucking cock now, huh? stupid slut." he tangled his fingers in your hair and pulled you away from his lips. "why don't you get on your knees and show me."
"fucking make me." you spat, trying to cover your neediness. he bucked his hips up, his clothed cock rubbing through your folds and hitting you clit, making you choke out a moan.
he ran his thumb along your lower lip, pulling it down before sticking his finger in your mouth. it tasted of nicotine and cologne. you ran your tongue around his finger before digging your teeth into the base of his thumb. "fuck," he grunted,pulling you off of his lap and helping you onto the floor.
Johnnie admired your complexion as you looked up at him. he ran his hand gently over your cheek before placing a light slap n your face. you swiftly unbuttoned his pants, pulling them down and tossing them onto the pile of clothes next to the bed. his boxers were next to go. the tip of his cock glistened with pre-cum. starting from the base, you ran your tongue up his shaft before wrapping your lips around his tip.
he gathered up your hair with one hand and held it all, guiding your head to where he wanted it to be. you swirled your tongue around the tip of his cock. he bucked up into your face, making you gag as he hit the back of your throat. you started off slow, bobbing your head gently.
"fuck, you're so fucking good. you take me so well, pretty girl." he uttered between soft grunts and moans.
you opened your eyes, looking up at him to make eve contact. his grip tightened on your hair as he fucked your throat. your eyes fluttered opened and closed, trying to take all of him without gagging. he tossed his head back and pushed yours all of the way down, making you take every single inch of him down our throat. as you gagged and whimpered around his cock, he pulled your head up.
you were panting, trying to take in all of the air you could. "shut up, bitch, over here moaning and crying. can you not take it?" he cooed, his eyeliner smudged eyes gazing into yours.
you swallowed, preventing yourself from drooling. you nodded quickly. "i can take it."
he smirked, his lip rings adjusting. "that's what i thought." he pushed your head down again. you were sucking the soul out of him, taking whatever you could get. "fucking shit, just like that."
you bobbed your head vigorously, making eye contact with him the whole way through. “taking it so well, just like i knew you could.” he praised, his demeanor changing from earlier. you could tell his tough guy act was slipping.
you hummed on his cock, sending shivers down his spine. “you taste so good.” you spoke in mutters against his dick.
“repeat that, sweetheart.” he ran his hand gently over your cheek.
“you taste so good, Johnnie.” you spoke up before turning your attention back towards getting him off. you pulled away from him, spitting on his tip before rubbing your spit all over his shaft. you had him uncontrollably moaning under your touch, “sounds like you needed me just as much.” you teased, kitty licking the tip of his cock.
“shit, are you sure?” he gathered himself the best he could, thrusting his hips up into your mouth.
“you’re such a mess, babe.” you smirked. you bobbed your head on his cock as fast as you could, gagging with each deep thrust down your throat.
“fucking hell, y/n. i’m so close.” he ran his fingers through your messy hair before grabbing a handful again. he held your head down, making you gag as he swiftly bucked his hips up. “you want me in your mouth?” he asked breathlessly.
“mhm,” you moaned out, beckoning him to cum in your throat.
a string of moans and cusses came out of his mouth as he coated your throat with his cum. you slowly pulled off of his cock, making eye contact as you swallowed. struggling to form words, he muttered, “shit.”
you stood up, laying on the bed next to him with a sigh.
“shower with me?” he asked, wrapping his arm around your waist.
“yes, please.”
#fanfiction#fanfic#johnnie guilbert#jake and johnnie#johnnie guilbert x reader#johnnie guilbert x you#hearts4golbach#johnnie guilbert smut#smut#enemies to lovers
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Enemies to lovers is about someone who has significant reason to hurt you but… actively chooses not to: It’s comforting.
The more it personally costs them to have you the more you know they want you: It’s flattering.
They lower their defenses understanding that you could truly harm them yet they have faith in you: It’s affirming.
Enemies pay attention to you in a way strangers, friends, and allies never do. Hyper aware of your motives, your skills, your every move for potential threats. But even with the intensive scrutiny we are judged worthy of their loyalty and vulnerability and love: It’s absolving.
#enemies to lovers#drarry#reylo#klance#and#bakudeku#really dominate the ao3 works with enemies to lovers tagged#so this is for them#but I was thinking about#liujiu#sambucky#+#slay the princess#while writing this#thorn princess#my love
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In the Arms of a Stranger Charlotte Katakuri x Bride! Reader (Part 1)
He's been popping up on my timeline for a while so I think that means he's getting a series. Pretend he's younger, or don't.
This is gonna be a long one folks.
Spolier: Reader ate the "Kage Kage no Mi" fruit.
Summary:
Kidnapped from the safety of your Straw Hat family and drugged into a forced marriage as a cruel act of revenge by Big Mom, you find yourself in a luxurious yet suffocating room with Charlotte Katakuri, the formidable son of your captor. Fear and desperation grip your heart, but amidst the terror, an unexpected truce begins to form.
As Katakuri reveals his own discomfort with the marriage and vows to protect you, a fragile bond develops. Together, you navigate the tension and uncertainty, finding solace in each other's presence.
In the midst of vulnerability and shared fears, even in the darkest times, unexpected comfort and trust can emerge.
Now, on with the show!!~
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The opulent grand hall reverberated with the lively chatter of guests and the melodious clinking of glasses, creating an atmosphere of celebration and merriment. However, amidst the splendor, [Name] couldn't shake off the overwhelming sense of displacement.
Her thoughts continuously gravitated back to her beloved Straw Hat family, from whom she had been abruptly separated due to this arranged marriage. All you could remember was being stolen in the night and being presented before a large pink woman.
The entire ceremony had unfolded like a hazy dream, and now, as the night descended, it marked the beginning of their wedding night.
Your knowledge of Charlotte Katakuri, your enigmatic new husband, was shrouded in intimidating rumors, leaving you feeling apprehensive.
'Fucking shit.'
The heavy oak door to their lavishly adorned chamber clicked shut behind you, the sound echoing ominously in the vast space. Silence descended like a suffocating blanket, pressing down on you with palpable weight. Your breath caught in your throat as you stood in the center of opulence, surrounded by the extravagant display of wealth.
The room exuded grandeur at every turn—the king-sized bed, adorned with layers of sumptuous silk, beckoned invitingly, yet it felt more like a throne of isolation than a place of rest. Ornate furniture, carved with intricate designs, adorned the spacious chamber, each piece a testament to extravagance. The soft glow of the dimly lit chandeliers cast ethereal shadows across the room, adding to the surreal atmosphere.
But amidst the splendor, there was a profound sense of unease, a feeling of being ensnared in a gilded cage. Despite the luxurious trappings, the room felt suffocating, each embellishment serving as a reminder of the confinement you found yourself in. The air seemed heavy with unspoken tension, and the silence seemed to magnify your solitude.
Your gaze flitted around the room, seeking solace in its lavish décor, but finding none. Every corner seemed to echo with a sense of captivity, each ornamental detail serving as a stark contrast to the freedom you longed for. Your heart ached with longing, yearning for the warmth and familiarity of your Straw Hat family, where safety and love awaited.
In this ostentatious chamber, you felt like a trapped bird, yearning to spread your wings and soar back to where you belonged. The opulence that surrounded you only served to emphasize the stark reality of your confinement, amplifying your desire to break free from this golden prison and return to the embrace of those who cherished you most.
In a moment of sheer panic, you found yourself drawn to the large bed dominating the center of the room. Instinct took over as you dropped to your knees, your movements frantic and unthinking. With trembling hands, you crawled beneath the bed, seeking refuge in the shadowy space beneath its expanse. The rapid thudding of your heart reverberated in your ears, a deafening drumbeat of fear that seemed to echo through the room.
As you huddled beneath the bed, your breaths came in shallow gasps, each inhale feeling like a struggle against the weight of impending doom. The confined space offered little solace, but you clung to it desperately, your body curling into a tight ball as if seeking protection from the encroaching darkness.
In the dimness beneath the bed, the world outside seemed distant and unreal, as if you had retreated into a realm of your own making. The shadows enveloped you like a comforting cloak, shielding you from the harsh reality that lurked beyond the confines of your hiding place.
Your mind raced with thoughts of escape, the urgency of the situation pressing down on you like a heavyweight. You couldn't stay here, couldn't bear the thought of what awaited you on this dreaded night. Your only thought was to find your friends, to seek refuge in the familiar embrace of the Straw Hat crew.
But for now, beneath the bed, you allowed yourself a moment of respite, a brief reprieve from the chaos that surrounded you. The stale air hung heavy in your lungs, but you welcomed it, using the precious moments of solitude to gather your thoughts and steel yourself for the challenges that lay ahead.
In the suffocating stillness of the room, time seemed to lose all meaning, stretching out into an endless expanse of silence. Every creak of the floorboards, every whisper of the wind outside, seemed magnified, as if the very air itself held its breath in anticipation. The weight of the mansion pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket, its oppressive atmosphere adding to the unbearable tension that hung in the air.
And then, like a harbinger of impending doom, you heard the door creak open, the sound slicing through the silence like a knife. Your entire body tensed, muscles coiling with apprehension as your breath caught in your throat, the air thick with trepidation.
With each heavy footstep, Katakuri drew closer, his presence a looming specter in the darkness. The sound of his boots on the plush carpet sent vibrations rippling through the floor, each thud reverberating through your bones and echoing the pounding of your heart. Every nerve in your body screamed for you to flee, to escape the approaching danger, but you remained frozen in place, paralyzed by fear.
Closing your eyes tightly, you prayed fervently that he wouldn't notice you, that you could remain hidden in the shadows beneath the bed. The darkness offered scant protection, but it was all you had, a thin veil of concealment against the looming threat that lurked just beyond your hiding place. As Katakuri's footsteps drew nearer, you clung to the desperate hope that somehow, against all odds, you would remain undetected.
'Please, just go away. Don’t look under the bed. Please.'
As Katakuri's heavy footsteps halted mere inches from the edge of the bed, a tangible sense of dread settled over you like a suffocating shroud. His presence loomed over you, a looming shadow of menace that seemed to envelop the room in a cloak of darkness. The air grew thick with tension, each breath you took feeling like a struggle against the oppressive weight of fear that pressed down upon you.
Time seemed to stretch on endlessly as you held your breath, every second feeling like an eternity as you waited in agonizing anticipation. And then, mercifully, the footsteps receded, their retreat a faint echo in the silence that followed. The sound of water running in the adjacent bathroom filled the room, a stark contrast to the stillness that had preceded it. Relief washed over you in a shaky exhale, but beneath the surface, the gnawing fear persisted, a constant reminder of the danger that lurked just beyond your reach.
'This is my chance,' you thought, determination flickering in the depths of your eyes as you seized upon the opportunity before you. With a surge of adrenaline, you scrambled out from under the bed, your movements swift and urgent as you surveyed your surroundings for any sign of escape. Your heart sank as you realized the door was securely locked, a barrier that stood between you and freedom.
'No, no, no!' The panic threatened to overwhelm you, but amidst the chaos of your thoughts, a glimmer of hope emerged. You remembered your Devil Fruit powers, a latent ability that held the key to your salvation. With a fierce focus, you channeled your energy, merging with the shadows that danced along the edges of the room. The sensation was eerie, like slipping into a cold, dark void, but you clung to it desperately, knowing it was your only chance at escape.
Invisible to the naked eye, you slipped through the crack beneath the bedroom door, your movements silent and swift as you navigated the dimly lit hallway beyond. Your heart pounded in your chest as you caught sight of Charlotte Opera, his figure looming ominously in the distance, a dagger glinting menacingly under the harsh glow of the overhead lights.
'Perfect,' you thought grimly, steeling yourself for the perilous journey that lay ahead. With determination coursing through your veins, you set off into the unknown, every step a testament to your unwavering resolve to reclaim your freedom at any cost.
As you moved stealthily through the labyrinthine corridors of the mansion, every step careful and calculated, your heart pounded in your ears like a thunderous drumbeat. The oppressive silence of the night was broken only by the faint sound of your own breathing, each inhale and exhale amplified by the tension that hung thick in the air. Every corner you turned seemed to hold the promise of danger, every shadow concealing a potential threat.
With practiced ease, you closed the distance between yourself and Opera, your movements fluid and silent as you closed in on your target. In a swift, decisive motion, you snatched the dagger from his grasp, the cold metal of the blade sending a shiver of anticipation coursing through your veins. It was a small victory, but in the face of the looming danger that surrounded you, it felt like a lifeline—a tangible symbol of your determination to fight back against the forces that sought to hold you captive.
Retreating back into the safety of the shadows, you clung to the dagger tightly, the weight of it comforting in your hand. It was a small but significant tool of defense, a reminder that you were not powerless in the face of adversity. With renewed resolve, you prepared yourself for the ordeal that lay ahead, steeling yourself for whatever challenges awaited you.
As the sound of the shower ceased and the lights in the bedroom dimmed, plunging the room into an even deeper darkness, your heart rate spiked once more. The tension in the air was palpable, each moment stretching out into an agonizing eternity as you resumed your hiding spot beneath the bed. Holding your breath, you braced yourself for whatever might come next, your mind racing with frantic thoughts as you prepared to confront the dangers that lurked in the shadows.
'Now I have the advantage but how do I get out of this?'
As you lay hidden beneath the bed, your mind raced with frantic thoughts, each one more terrifying than the last. The weight of the dagger in your hand offered little solace as you grappled with the overwhelming fear of the unknown. How would you escape this predicament? What awaited you beyond the confines of this ominous mansion? The uncertainty gnawed at your insides, leaving you feeling small and powerless in the face of the looming threat.
Before you could formulate a plan of action, the bathroom door swung open with a sinister creak, unleashing a wave of hot steam into the room. Through the swirling mist, you caught a glimpse of Katakuri's towering figure, his presence like a malevolent shadow in the darkness. The air seemed to thicken with dread as his cold, unyielding gaze pierced through the haze, fixating on you with chilling intensity.
And then, in an instant, the shadows were banished by a blinding light that seared through the fog, illuminating you in its merciless glare. The stark contrast between light and darkness rendered you vulnerable, exposed to the full force of Katakuri's unwavering scrutiny. Panic surged through you like a primal instinct as his eyes bore into yours, stripping away any semblance of safety or sanctuary.
Before you could react, his hand closed around your wrist with a bone-crushing grip, dragging you unceremoniously out from your hiding place beneath the bed. The sensation was like being ensnared by a predator, helpless against the inexorable force of his advance. With each heartbeat, the reality of your predicament sank in, filling you with a visceral terror so profound it threatened to consume you whole.
"No, no, no!" The words escaped your lips in a frantic whisper, a desperate plea for escape that fell on deaf ears. In the face of Katakuri's relentless advance, you were overwhelmed by a sense of dread so potent it bordered on madness. As he loomed over you, a silent harbinger of doom, you were plunged into the depths of a nightmare from which there seemed to be no waking.
As you struggled against Katakuri's iron grip, fear surged through your veins like a torrential wave, threatening to drown you in its icy embrace. With a surge of desperation, you plunged the dagger into his wrist, a desperate bid for freedom born of sheer instinct. He grunted in pain, his reaction more annoyance than true agony, but it was enough to momentarily loosen his hold on you.
With a gasp of relief, you tumbled onto the bed, your heart pounding in your chest like a frantic drumbeat. Scrambling away, you fought to put as much distance between yourself and your assailant as possible, your movements frantic and uncoordinated. But your escape was short-lived, and you soon found yourself falling off the other side of the bed, landing with a jarring thud on the cold, unforgiving floor below.
As you lay there, your mind a whirlwind of fear and confusion, a thousand thoughts raced through your head in rapid succession. "I hurt him. What now? Will he kill me?" The questions echoed in your mind like a relentless refrain, each one more terrifying than the last. The cold floor pressed against your back, grounding you in the harsh reality of your situation as you struggled to catch your breath, your chest heaving with the effort.
Amidst the chaos of your thoughts, a fierce determination took hold, driving you forward in spite of the overwhelming fear that threatened to consume you. "I can't let him catch me. I have to survive this. I have to get back to my family." The words rang out in your mind with a clarity that cut through the suffocating haze of terror, fueling your resolve with a newfound strength.
Though the fear was almost paralyzing, the thought of your Straw Hat family served as a beacon of hope in the darkness, a reminder of the bonds that tethered you to the world beyond this nightmare. With each breath, you drew upon that strength, channeling it into a desperate bid for survival as you faced the terrifying unknown that lay ahead.
As you lay on the floor, your body trembling with adrenaline, the sound of Katakuri's approach sent shivers down your spine, his silent footsteps amplifying your terror. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, your senses heightened to a fever pitch as you struggled to control your racing heart.
'He's coming. What do I do? Think, [Name], think!'
The suspense was suffocating, the air thick with tension, as you fought to steady your breathing against the overwhelming fear that threatened to consume you.
With each step he took, the weight of his presence bore down on you like a suffocating blanket, leaving you gasping for air as if the very atmosphere had turned against you.
'I can't stay here. I can't let him catch me again.'
The thought echoed in your mind with a sense of urgency, driving you to action even as panic threatened to overwhelm your senses.
As Katakuri's shadow fell over you, his form looming ominously in the dim light of the chandelier, you felt a primal instinct kick in, a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins. His eyes, cold and unreadable, seemed to pierce through the darkness, fixing you in place with their unyielding gaze. Your heart hammered in your chest, thoughts whirling in a frantic blur as you braced yourself for whatever came next.
'This is it. This is my only chance.'
With fear coursing through your veins, you struggled against Katakuri, desperation lending strength to your movements. In a desperate move, you slashed at him again with the dagger, hoping to fend off the looming threat that hung over you like a shadow. But Katakuri's response was swift and merciless; with a single, precise motion, he knocked the dagger out of your hands, sending it clattering to the floor, far out of reach.
Desperation filled your eyes as you whispered into the cold night air,
"Please, don't touch me!"
The world seemed to stop at this notion. Your words hung in the air, fragile and trembling, a desperate request for mercy in the face of overwhelming fear. The room fell silent, the weight of your plea echoing in the stillness as you awaited his response.
For a fleeting moment, Katakuri's intense gaze softened, his resolve faltering in the face of your vulnerability. Slowly, he pulled himself back, giving you the space you so desperately craved. You lay there, still clad in your wedding dress, a poignant reminder of the night's cruel irony. Tears welled up in your eyes, spilling over as you squeezed them shut, your body wracked with silent sobs.
In that moment of vulnerability, you were acutely aware of the fragility of your existence, a pawn in a game far beyond your control. The weight of the night's events bore down on you like a crushing weight, threatening to engulf you in darkness. Amidst the despair, a flicker of hope remained, a small ember of resilience burning brightly within you. You would endure this trial, you would survive, and you would emerge stronger on the other side.
But right now you really just needed to have a healthy cry.
Katakuri's massive form crouched down before you with surprising gentleness, his imposing stature momentarily softened by the tenderness in his movements. Despite the weight of his presence, there was a certain grace in the way he watched you, as if he were keenly attuned to the fragile state of your emotions. His usually stern expression bore a subtle shift, hints of compassion and understanding flickering across his features like shadows dancing in the dim light of the room.
As he spoke, his voice was a soothing murmur, low and gentle, cutting through the tense silence like a soft breeze on a stormy night. "I promise I won’t hurt you. I have no intention of consummating this marriage given the situation." His words hung in the air, a lifeline extended to you in the depths of your despair. For a moment, the weight of your fear seemed to lift ever so slightly, replaced by a cautious glimmer of hope.
Slowly, you opened your tear-blurred eyes, your gaze meeting his with a mixture of apprehension and longing. You searched the depths of his gaze, seeking any sign of deception or malice, but all you found was sincerity shining back at you like a beacon in the darkness. At that moment, with a trembling breath, you allowed yourself to believe, if only for a fleeting second, that perhaps there was still goodness to be found in this world, even in the most unexpected of places.
As you looked up at Katakuri, his presence no longer looming over you like a specter of fear, you found yourself daring to hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for him to be a decent man despite the circumstances.
In the tranquil hush of the room, every breath seemed to echo, a delicate symphony of tension and resignation. Katakuri's presence, once a looming specter of dread, now exuded a sense of quiet patience, a silent invitation for you to find solace amidst the chaos of your emotions. The opulence that had once felt stifling now appeared almost ethereal, the soft glow of the chandeliers casting gentle pools of light that danced upon the walls like fleeting whispers.
"I promise,"
His voice resonated like a soothing melody, a gentle reassurance that hung in the air like a fragile thread.
"You are safe here. I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to."
The sincerity in his words was a beacon in the darkness, a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows of fear that lingered in your heart. Tentatively, hesitantly, you allowed yourself to believe him, to entertain the possibility of a sanctuary within the confines of this ornate prison.
Your trembling began to ebb, a gradual release of tension that mirrored the softening of your surroundings. With each passing moment, the weight of your fear lessened, replaced by a cautious sense of calm that settled over you like a comforting embrace.
Though the scars of your ordeal remained, there was a flicker of resilience in your gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the strength that lay dormant within you.
In the stillness of the room, you took a trembling breath, your pulse slowing as you dared to let go of the grip of fear that had held you captive for so long. And as you met Katakuri's unwavering gaze, you found yourself taking the first tentative steps towards reclaiming your sense of agency, your spirit unbroken.
Tears of anguish continued to stream down your cheeks, silent witnesses to the pain that still weighed heavy on your heart. But intertwined with the sorrow was a sense of gratitude, a profound acknowledgment of the small mercy that had been extended to you in this moment of vulnerability. And as you met Katakuri's gaze, you found solace in the silent understanding that passed between you forged by the circumstance you found each other in.
As Katakuri stood before you, his imposing frame now softened by the absence of his wedding attire, you couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in his demeanor.
His broad shoulders, previously concealed beneath layers of formal clothing, now stood bare and unadorned, accentuating the raw strength that lay beneath his stoic exterior. Black sweatpants hugged his frame, emphasizing the powerful muscles that rippled beneath his skin with each movement.
And then, there was his face. Without the intimidating mask that had become synonymous with his identity, Katakuri seemed almost vulnerable, his features exposed to the harsh light of the room. His expression was unreadable, a mask of neutrality that belied the turmoil that lay beneath the surface.
But it was the intricate tattoo that adorned his left shoulder that drew your attention. A complex design of swirling patterns and symbols, it seemed to tell a story of its own, each line and curve a testament to Katakuri's strength and resilience. The tattoo, a mark of his heritage and lineage, spoke of a past shrouded in mystery and tradition.
As your gaze lingered on him, you realized that he had caught you staring. A flicker of self-consciousness crossed his features before he rose gracefully to his feet, moving with a fluidity that belied his size. Without a word, he retrieved a box of tissues from a nearby dresser, placing them gently in front of you with a silent understanding.
"I... I'm nervous too,"
He admitted, his voice a low rumble that filled the room.
"This marriage... it wasn't fair of my mother to impose it upon us like this."
There was a hint of frustration in his tone, a rare display of vulnerability that caught you off guard.
"But for now, we must act as a normal couple. It's the only way to avoid suspicion."
You nodded, taking the tissues with trembling hands as you tried to wipe away the tears that stained your cheeks. The gesture was small but significant, a silent acknowledgment of the fragile truce that existed between you. As you dabbed at your cheeks, you couldn't help but notice the smudged makeup that marred your reflection in the tissue.
Seeing your distress, Katakuri's expression softened, a rare display of empathy in the midst of chaos. "You should shower and change out of your wedding dress," he suggested gently, his voice a soothing balm against the turmoil of your emotions. "I'll... I'll wait outside."
"I thought we couldn't leave until... you know," you murmur, glancing towards the bed where memories of the night's events lingered like ghosts.
Katakuri groans, his frustration evident as he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I forgot," he admits, before letting out a resigned sigh. His gaze returns to you, softer now, tinged with a hint of apology.
"I will wait inside the closet then. Knock three times when you are finished."
But as he starts to rise, you find yourself unable to let him leave just yet. "Wait!" you call out, your voice trembling slightly.
He pauses, turning back to you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. As you rise to your feet, legs shaking with the weight of the evening's events, you move closer to him, heart pounding in your chest.
"P-please help me with the buttons in the back," you request, your voice barely above a whisper. His gaze meets yours, and for a moment, the air between you crackles with unspoken tension.
He holds your gaze, the intensity of his stare making your heart race even faster. With a nod, he steps forward, his fingers deftly undoing the buttons of your wedding dress. The fabric falls away with a soft rustle, leaving you exposed and vulnerable in its wake.
You shiver at the sudden rush of cool air against your skin, his strength evident in the ease with which he undoes each button. When he's finished, you look up at him, meeting his gaze once more.
"I promise I will not touch you," he reassures you, his voice gentle yet firm. With that, he steps back, putting distance between you once more, before retreating into the walk-in closet.
Alone once more, you take a deep breath, the weight of the evening pressing down on you like a heavy cloak. But in the quiet of the room, you find a moment of solace, a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos.
With the now slumping dress held against your form, you rush into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you with a shaky hand. Locking the door provides a momentary sense of security, and you slide down onto the cool tiles, back pressed against the door.
As you sit there, the events of the evening replay in your mind like a broken record. The way Katakuri had grabbed your wrist, the fear that had gripped you, and the unexpected restraint he had shown when you stabbed him... it all whirls around in your head, leaving you feeling dizzy and confused.
You consider asking him about it, about why he didn't retaliate or even mention the wound. But the thought dies on your lips as you glance down at your now discarded dress, realizing that it's probably not the best time to bring it up.
Instead, you focus on the task at hand, turning on the shower and letting the warm water cascade over your body. It's a welcome respite from the chaos of the evening, and you take your time, letting the steam wash away the physical and emotional residue of the night.
As the water cascades down, you can't help but think about how to contact Luffy or the rest of the crew. Pudding seems like the safest option, given her past interactions with your friends. But the logistics of reaching out to her are daunting, especially with Katakuri lurking just outside the door.
Eventually, you finish your shower, wrapping yourself in a large fluffy towel. Glancing at your reflection in the fogged-up mirror, you're struck by how tired and sad you look. With a sigh, you reach for a face towel, intending to run it under cold water to reduce the puffiness around your eyes.
But as you do, you realize just how large the towel is, a stark reminder of the size and strength of your new husband. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, but you push it aside, focusing instead on getting dry and applying lotion to your body.
Once you're sufficiently covered, you peek out from under the bathroom door, listening for any signs of life in the room beyond. When you hear nothing, you slip back into the room's shadows, quietly making your way to the dresser drawers in search of clothing.
You avoid the underwear set Big Mom had insisted you wear beneath the wedding dress, opting instead to dig through the drawers until you found something. Among the array of garments, you manage to find a black bra and underwear set that fits you perfectly.
A note from Pudding accompanies the lingerie, explaining that it's the best she could do under the circumstances. You hug the note to your chest, grateful for Pudding's help, before slipping into the undergarments.
Next, you find a slip that Pudding had also left for you. Pulling it over your head, you revel in the softness of the fabric against your skin. It's a simple yet elegant piece, with delicate lace adorning the edges. As you adjust the straps, you notice how the slip drapes over your figure, accentuating your curves in a flattering way.
'Would he even like something like this? Oh my God no, I can't believe I just thought of that!'
You feel your ears begin to heat up again until you turn away from the mirror. Looking down, you're struck by the contrast between the darkness of the lingerie and the sexiness of the red slip. It's a visual representation of the conflicting emotions swirling inside you.
'This won't do.'
Still feeling vulnerable, you return to the dresser drawers, your fingers trailing over the various fabrics as you search for something to provide additional comfort. Finally, you come across a large white shirt tucked away in the back of the drawer. Pulling it on over the slip, you're enveloped in its soft embrace, the oversized fit offering a sense of security you desperately need. With each button fastened, you feel a little more grounded, a little more ready to get through the night.
You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you catch a small whiff of something. The scent of donuts and fire lingers on the fabric, a faint reminder of Katakuri's presence in the room. You pause, the shirt draped over your shoulders, and bring the collar up to your nose, inhaling deeply. The familiar aroma envelops you, warm and comforting, like a gentle embrace in the midst of chaos. It's a reminder that despite the circumstances, you're not entirely alone.
Closing your eyes, you allow yourself a moment of quiet reflection, focusing on the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest as you breathe in the calming scent. For a fleeting instant, the weight of the world lifts from your shoulders, replaced by a sense of peace and tranquility. It's a small respite from the turmoil of the night, but one you cling to nonetheless.
With a steadying breath, you lower the collar of the shirt and let your hand fall to your side. The fabric drapes loosely around your frame, offering both physical comfort and a semblance of emotional refuge. You're still trembling, still uncertain of what lies ahead, but at this moment, wrapped in the scent of cologne and the soft embrace of the oversized shirt, you find yourself before the closet door.
"Hey, you can come out now."
There's no movement from the door. You feel confused before remembering what he had said and raising your hand to gently knock three times. Your knuckles rap lightly against the closet door, the sound echoing in the silent room. For a moment, there's no response, only the hushed murmur of your own breathing. Then, from within the closet, you hear a soft shuffle of movement, followed by the creak of hinges as the door swings open.
Katakuri steps out, his presence filling the room once more. His shirtless form is a stark contrast to the imposing figure you've come to know, his black sweatpants hanging loosely on his frame. Without his mask, his face is revealed, and you can't help but notice deep scares that adorn his face, the sharp fangs that poke out of his lips.
He meets your gaze, his expression unreadable, before his eyes flicker down to the floor, a slight flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. "Sorry," he murmurs, his voice low and hesitant. "I didn't mean to make you wait."
You shake your head, a small frown tugging at the corners of your lips. "It's okay," you reassure him, your voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm ready now."
With a nod, Katakuri steps aside, allowing you to pass him and make your way back into the bedroom. The scent of mochi lingers in the air, a comforting reminder of his presence beside you. As you settle back onto the bed, the oversized shirt enveloping you in its warmth, you can't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected kindness of your new husband.
"Thank you," you murmur softly, offering a grateful nod as you settle back onto the dresser, the oversized shirt providing a comforting shield against the lingering tension in the room. But as you find yourself propped on the wood surface, a lingering ache in your wrist prompts a question you can't ignore.
"Katakuri," you begin tentatively, your gaze meeting his with a mixture of curiosity and concern, "about your wrist... I'm sorry if I hurt you earlier."
His brows furrow slightly at your words, a hint of surprise crossing his features before he sighs, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It's alright," he assures you gently, his tone carrying a sense of understanding. "I knew you'd be asking about that next. And I'm sorry for tugging you so harshly and for any other discomfort, I may have caused you. When I entered and didn't see you, I assumed they were going to send you in after me shortly."
You take in his apology, feeling a sense of relief wash over you at his understanding. It's a response you hadn't expected, one that speaks volumes about his character. In the dim light of the room, you can see the sincerity in his eyes, a quiet reassurance in his presence.
"Thank you," you reply softly, offering him a small nod. "I appreciate your understanding."
He meets your gaze, a silent acknowledgment passing between you before he nods, a small gesture of reassurance. But before the silence settles between you, another question tugs at your thoughts, one that you can't ignore any longer.
"Katakuri," you begin, your voice hesitant as you broach the topic, "about your stab wound... How did you...?"
His expression softens as he meets your gaze, a knowing glint in his eyes. "I figured you'd asking about that next," he admits with a faint chuckle, his tone laced with amusement. "My Devil Fruit powers allow me to manipulate mochi, shaping it into various forms and even extending my limbs. When you stabbed my wrist, it was made of mochi, so it didn't hurt as much as you might think."
You listen intently as he explains, feeling a sense of awe at the revelation of his abilities. It's a reminder of the world you've been thrust into, one filled with wonders and dangers alike. But in that moment, as you sit together in the quiet of the room, you find a sense of comfort in the genuine conversation between you.
As the conversation unfolds, your curiosity drifts to the scars that adorn Katakuri's mouth, the faint lines drawing your attention.
"Katakuri," you inquire softly, your voice filled with genuine interest, "what happened to your mouth? Those scars... they look like they've seen their fair share of battles."
His expression shifts slightly at your question, a hint of hesitation crossing his features before he offers a faint smile. "Ah, these scars," he begins, his voice tinged with a mixture of nostalgia and vulnerability. "They're... a remainder of a childhood mishap, you could say."
You sense his reluctance to delve deeper into the topic, a subtle tension underlying his words. "I got them when I was young," he continues, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.
"An accident involving... donuts."
Your eyebrows raise in surprise, a hint of amusement creeping into your expression despite the seriousness of the moment. "Donuts?" you repeat, unable to suppress a small chuckle.
Katakuri nods, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he looks . "Yes, donuts," he confirms, his tone slightly sheepish. "I... stretched my mouth open too wide while eating them, and... well, the rest is history."
You can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him, realizing the vulnerability he must feel about the scars. "I'm sorry," you offer softly, your voice filled with genuine empathy. "It must have been difficult for you."
He meets your gaze with a grateful nod, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. "Thank you," he murmurs, his tone sincere.
"It's... not something I talk about often."
You nod in understanding, sensing the weight of his words as you sit together in the quiet of the room. At that moment, you find yourself grateful for the opportunity to learn more about the man behind the mask, scars, and all.
As the conversation winds down, Katakuri glances at the clock on the wall, noting the lateness of the hour. "It's getting late," he remarks, his voice gentle but firm. "You should get some sleep."
At his words, a wave of panic washes over you, the prospect of sleeping in the same bed with him filling you with dread. Katakuri notices the sudden change in your demeanor, his brows furrowing in concern. "Is something wrong?" he asks softly, his eyes searching yours.
You hesitate, unsure of how to voice your fear. But before you can respond, he speaks again, his tone reassuring. "I could sleep in the closet," he offers, his voice calm but resolute. "You can have the bed to yourself."
Relief floods through you at his words, gratitude mingling with the lingering fear in your heart. "Thank you," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.
With a nod, Katakuri moves to the bed, but you find yourself unable to follow. The fear still grips you, holding you back from taking that step. Sensing your hesitation, Katakuri pauses, his gaze softening as he turns back to you.
"What's wrong?" he inquires gently, his eyes filled with understanding.
You take a deep breath, summoning the courage to voice your feelings. "I'm... afraid," you admit, your voice trembling with emotion.
"I don't think I can..."
Katakuri considers your words for a moment, his expression thoughtful. Then, with a decisive nod, he moves to the bed, swiftly stripping it of all its coverings. "We'll make a makeshift bed on the floor," he decides, his voice calm but determined.
You watch in silence as he gathers extra pillows and blankets from the closet, his movements efficient yet gentle. When he returns, he offers you a choice of designs for the blanket, a small gesture of kindness that touches your heart.
With a grateful nod, you select a donut design, your fingers trembling slightly as you take the blanket from him. Together, you create a makeshift bed on the floor, arranging the pillows and blankets until they form a comfortable nest.
Katakuri finishes arranging the makeshift bed with a satisfied smile, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. "Alright, this should do it. I used to do the same for my siblings when they were younger," he remarks, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Turning to you, he waits for your response.
As he mentions returning to the closet, you remember his earlier promise not to touch you, a gesture of respect and consideration that doesn't go unnoticed. You meet his gaze, silently contemplating his offer.
After a moment of thought, you shake your head slightly. "I wouldn't mind if you slept on the opposite end of the pillow fort," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.
A small smile graces Katakuri's lips at your suggestion. "Alright," he replies, his tone warm and accepting. With a nod, he settles down on the opposite end of the makeshift bed, giving you a comfortable distance.
The room falls into a hushed darkness as Katakuri dims the lights, casting soft shadows across the walls. You watch him settle onto his side of the makeshift bed, his movements deliberate and controlled. With a quiet sigh, you follow suit, curling up on your side, facing away from him.
As you lie there in the stillness of the room, you try to quiet your mind, to let the events of the day fade into the background. But try as you might, sleep eludes you. Your thoughts drift back to the chaotic events that led you here, to this unfamiliar room in a mansion far from home.
You remember the fear and desperation, the overwhelming sense of helplessness as you found yourself trapped in a nightmare not of your making. The tears come unbidden, silently slipping down your cheeks as you relive the terror of facing a future filled with uncertainty.
Each sob threatens to unravel the fragile calm you've managed to hold onto, leaving you feeling raw and exposed. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the tears to stop, but they keep coming, a relentless torrent of emotion that refuses to be contained.
The weight of the day's events bears down on you, pressing against your chest like a heavy burden. Your breath becomes shallow and uneven, your heart pounding in your ears as you struggle to find a moment's respite from the turmoil raging within.
You turn onto your back, staring up at the ceiling, feeling utterly alone in the darkness. The quiet of the room is suffocating, the absence of noise amplifying the cacophony of thoughts swirling in your mind.
You try to focus on your breathing, to find some semblance of calm amidst the storm raging within you. But each inhale feels strained, each exhale a release of pent-up tension that only seems to fuel your restlessness.
You toss and turn, shifting from one position to another, but no matter how hard you try, sleep remains elusive. The hours drag on, stretching into eternity, and still, you lie there, trapped in the prison of your own thoughts.
And as the first light of dawn filters through the curtains, casting a pale glow across the room, you realize with a sinking heart that sleep will not come this night.
You feel a presence, and you turn over to find Katakuri looking at you with concern etched across his features. His eyes are soft, a stark contrast to the imposing figure you've come to know. In that moment, you realize he's not just a fearsome pirate, but also a man burdened with his own worries and doubts.
He sees the tears glistening on your cheeks and without a word, he rises from the makeshift bed and retrieves more tissues, sliding them over to you with a quiet understanding. You meet his gaze, studying the lines of tension in his brow, the slight furrow of his brow that speaks volumes of his concern.
It occurs to you then, that he's not unaffected by the events of the night. Beneath his stoic exterior lies a vulnerability you hadn't noticed before, a vulnerability mirrored in your own trembling hands and tear-streaked face.
"Katakuri," you whisper, his name a lifeline in the darkness. He stands at attention, his posture rigid with anticipation. You pause, unsure of what to say, but knowing that you need to say something, anything to bridge the gap between you.
You feel your heart reach out to him, a silent acknowledgment of the shared struggle you both face. He meets your gaze, his eyes searching yours for reassurance, for solace. And in that moment, you see him not as an enemy, but as someone who, like you, is grappling with the weight of their own emotions.
"I... I just want to thank you," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. "For... for being here. For... for helping me."
His expression softens, a flicker of understanding passing between you.
"You are most welcome."
You glance once more at the bed, then decisively grab the donut blanket and climb on top of it. Katakuri watches you, a mixture of confusion and concern evident in his expression as you make your move.
Scooting back into the bed, you pat the space where you were just sitting, silently inviting him to join you. He stares at the spot for a long moment, his brow furrowed with contemplation, before finally taking a seat beside you.
Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you turn to him, your voice soft but determined. "If you would accept," you begin, meeting his gaze head-on, "I will give you permission to sleep next to me and touch me, but only for comfort and if you consent to do so. I do not wish to consummate our marriage."
There's a vulnerability in your words, a raw honesty that lays bare your fears and desires. Katakuri's expression softens as he processes your words, his eyes searching yours for a moment before a myriad of emotions flickers across his face.
Finally, he nods, a solemn acceptance of your terms. "I understand," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I accept your conditions."
Relief floods through you, mingling with the lingering apprehension. Tentatively, you reach out to him, your voice trembling slightly as you continue, "But I do need a hug and would like one from you."
His gaze softens further, and without a word, he pulls you into his arms, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. In that moment, as you rest against his chest, you feel a sense of connection and understanding.
As Katakuri's arms wrap around you, you can feel the steady, rhythmic beating of his heart beneath his chest. His warmth seeps into you, a soothing balm against the cold dread that's settled in your bones. His muscles are tense at first, a reflection of his own uncertainty, but as you gently pat his shoulder, he begins to relax, the rigidity in his frame easing with each tender touch.
"May I pet your hair?" he asks softly, his voice a gentle murmur in the quiet room.
You nod against his chest, your consent a whisper in the stillness. His fingers thread through your hair with a careful touch, the sensation both comforting and intimate.
The knots in your chest and the tangled web of thoughts in your mind start to melt away as his gentle ministrations continue. His scent—a unique blend of mochi, donuts, and a hint of campfire smoke—envelops you, grounding you in the present moment and gradually clearing the fog of your anxieties.
You nuzzle into him softly, feeling a newfound sense of safety in his embrace. An idea forms in your mind, a way to comfort him in return.
"May I touch your cheek?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
There's a moment of silence, a pause that stretches on until he finally answers quietly, "Yes."
Slowly, you raise your hand to his cheek, your fingers trembling slightly. As you let your fingers trace over his scar, you can feel the texture of the healed skin, and the vulnerability he rarely shows. His eyes close briefly, and you sense the tension in him easing further, your touch a silent offering of understanding and acceptance.
Katakuri leans into your touch, the warmth of your palm against his scarred cheek seeming to provide him with a sense of comfort and solace. His eyes flutter closed, and you can feel the last remnants of tension drain from his body. The rhythmic motion of his fingers in your hair slows, his breath becoming deeper and more even.
Before you know it, he's fallen asleep, his head resting gently against your hand. The sight of him, so vulnerable and at peace, tugs at your heartstrings. The steady rise and fall of his chest, and the softness of his expression, make you realize how exhausting this day has been for both of you.
You let your hand linger on his cheek for a moment longer, taking in the tranquility of the scene. His steady heartbeat beneath your touch, the warmth of his body, and the faint scent of mochi and campfire smoke create a cocoon of calm around you. For the first time since this ordeal began, you feel a glimmer of hope.
As you nuzzle into him, you close your eyes, letting the security of his presence lull you into a gentle sleep. Wrapped in the warmth of each other's embrace, the world outside fades away, leaving only the quiet promise of a new beginning in its wake.
You're both in this together, navigating the uncertainties of your situation as a team.
_____________________________________________________________
That was part 1 folks, lemme know how you liked it!
Make sure you check out the a03 account by the same name. Everything I have posted here is there in chronological order. I also have other hot One piece characters posted in the masterlist! Give them a read if you please!
Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want. I am also currently taking requests.
I promise I bite~
Seen you soon my loves!!~ <<33
#Charlotte Katakuri x reader#charlotte katakuri#katakuri one piece#op katakuri#katakuri x reader#katakuri fanart#earl of flour#donut lord#one piece#one piece fanfiction#charlotte family#Charlotte Katakuri#forced marriage#arranged marriage#wedding night#cuddling & snuggling#found family#enemies to lovers#enemies to friends to lovers#enemies to friends#romance#gentleman#angst with a happy ending#angst#angst and comfort#comfort#gentle#warmth#happy ending#eventual romance
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