#i love her but i just keep forgetting to read her events.. :(
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Chasing Cars | ch 4 (jjk)
☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?
☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader
☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)
☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff
☆warnings: the power outage is still power outing, curses, Jungkook being Jungkook, mentions of being really drunk and throwing up, explicit content: they talk about what happened in ch 3, teasing, some Mario Kart (yes, it has to be in the explicit content section lmao), hickeys, brat!reader, dom!Jungkook, big dick!Jungkook, degradation (he calls her a slut/pretty little slut), consent king Jeon Jungkook, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, jerking off, talks about having raw sex, protected sex, praise
☆word count: 9.5k
☆a/n: new chapterrrrrrr! Enjoy reading everyone <3 there's a tiny bit of angst if you squint your eyes really hard, but the real angst will hit much later on. Thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing, you guys are the best <3
☆series masterpost
☆add yourself to the taglist here!
☆☆☆☆☆
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol
☆☆☆☆☆
Friday, February 15th
You wake up slowly, with the rising sun. Your room is dark, cold, yet you’re snuggled close to Jungkook, whose body heat has been keeping you warm all night. He’s still asleep, mouth slightly parted, and you watch him for a few seconds before the events of last night come back to your mind, and you have to shut your eyes to try to forget.
It’s hard. His arm is still draped over you, and it twitches in his sleep. You try to push him away, but he wraps his arm around you tighter, nuzzling his face in your neck. It does something to you that you entirely can’t deal with, and you shut your eyes even harder, trying to ignore the way your heart is acting up in your chest.
You breathe in, the cold air taming the burning inside of you. You exhale slowly, and to your surprise, your heart finally decides to start calming down. You keep breathing deeply for a while, and you reckon it might have worked better than you expected because, next thing you know, you wake up with a start.
Jungkook is sitting next to you, and he offers you a lopsided grin as you meet his gaze, heart once again beating wildly.
“Morning, peach,” he greets you, voice gravelly with sleep.
You force yourself to sit up, and you stretch a yawn away. “Morning.”
“Slept well?”
There’s a teasing glint in his eyes, mischief laced with his words. You know you shouldn’t be surprised. Know Jungkook is probably going to turn you into a blushing mess even more now. Especially as he smirks, head cocking to the side while he awaits your answer.
“Yeah,” you answer, and you look towards the window as his eyes bore into your profile. You take a deep breath, another yawn moving through you before you’re able to look at him again. “Did you?”
“Better than I thought I would,” he admits, and he stretches before lying back down, pulling the covers to his face. It’s adorable, in a way Jeon Jungkook should never be, and you force yourself to not let it get to your mind as he continues, “I usually sleep like shit when I sleep with someone.”
You purse your lips, refusing to give meaning to his words as you say, “Maybe last night helped.”
The lopsided smile is back, and he nods once, sighing in content. “We should lose power more often.”
In the hopes that power would come back during the night, you plugged in your phone before going to sleep. You reach for it on the night table, and even though your room is still freezing, you’re still taken aback that the power is still out.
“Well, we still don’t have any,” you inform him.
He glances at you. “Then we should go back to sleep.”
At that, you snort, shaking your head. Even though your battery is low, you still go to your emails, trying to see if you received anything from your professor.
What you find is a college-wide email informing the students that all college activities are cancelled today and through the weekend, to start again on Monday. Your gaze widens before you glance at Jungkook.
“Power is still out in college, too,” you tell him. “So, no class.”
Jungkook’s smile only grows wider, and he opens his arms for you to come cuddle again. “Then what are you waiting for?”
Your heart is warm. A hearth, in which a small fire has started to burn. It’s soft, cozy, and you worry at your bottom lip as you survey Jungkook. As you try to figure out when you crossed the line, and if it’s too late to pull back.
You figure you can decide later when the power is back on and this bubble outside of time will have burst, and you lie back next to him. His arms, still wide open, look far too inviting, and it takes you about five seconds before you’re scooching into his embrace.
He sighs in content. “You know,” he lets out. “If Tae learns, I’m a dead man.”
Reality crashes harder than a tsunami on a beach, and you try to pull away. Jungkook holds onto you, even when you push on his chest.
“I was just going to say,” he adds so you’d stop pushing him, “that we should keep this between us.”
You nod against him as you finally stop trying to pull away. “Yes, I agree.”
“Good.”
And Tae doesn’t cross your mind for the rest of the morning. Eventually, you and Jungkook decide to move out of the safe comfort of the covers, needing to eat something before you die, as Jungkook jokes. It’s a quick trip to the kitchen before you figure your room is far warmer than the rest of the apartment. You retreat with fruits, while Jungkook grabs a bowl of the food he cooked yesterday.
Watching him eat it cold makes you gag, so you turn away from him to focus on eating your apple and blueberries.
“What?” he says, and he sounds like his mouth is full.
“How can you even be eating that?”
There are a few seconds of silence, while he clearly swallows his bite. “What’s wrong with it?”
You scrunch up your nose in disgust, glancing at him over your shoulder. His gaze is narrowed, eyebrows bunched together over his eyes as he fakes offence, or perhaps suspicion. It makes you snort, and you look away from him before you speak again.
“It’s cold.”
“Wow, is it?” he teases. “Never would have noticed.”
You roll your eyes, forcing your laugh down because Jeon Jungkook shouldn’t be making you laugh anyway. Silence replaces the conversation, and you finish eating in peace, watching the world outside the window.
It looks straight out of a fairy tale. The trees are covered in a thick coat of ice, and they glisten in the morning light as if they are made of glass. It’s beautiful, in an unforgiving way, and you find peace in their contemplation.
Peace in this comfortable silence with Jungkook.
By the time you’re done eating, Jungkook has wolfed down the bowl he made for himself, and you both return to the kitchen to put away the dishes you’d used. Jungkook leans against the counter while you rinse them, arms folded on his chest.
“What should we do today?” he asks.
You cock an eyebrow. “We?”
“Yeah.” He chuckles. “Unless you want to be alone.”
Your eyes dart to him quickly, before returning to the safety of the spot where the jet of water hits the bowl you’re holding. “What do you want to do?”
“We could go for a car ride,” he suggests. “To charge up our phones.”
“Don’t you think the roads are a little too dangerous right now?”
He plays with his piercing as he frowns slightly, clearly not having thought about this. “Right.” You watch as the cogs work in his brain, and you can’t help the smile that slowly grows on your lips when his features light up. “We can just stay parked somewhere.”
“We’d still have to get there.”
He furrows his brows. “I’m sure they’ve put salt on the streets, we should be okay.”
What he doesn’t know is that you don’t need convincing. You’ve already decided you’d go, mostly because you do need to charge your phone. Not because you really need it right now, but just because the thought of not having it with you feels strange.
“We’re going?” Jungkook presses as you remain silent.
He must be immune to the teasing glint you know for a fact has taken over your eyes. You sigh, before nodding once. “Sure.”
He beams. “Let’s go!”
His enthusiasm makes you laugh, and you turn the tap off before turning to watch him as he’s leaving the kitchen.
“Shouldn’t we brush our teeth and freshen up first?”
He stops in his tracks. “Right.” He turns, flashing you a grin that reveals the same dimples you noticed yesterday. “Good luck with taking a shower, though.”
You snort. “Let’s just brush our teeth.”
Which is what you do, Jungkook pushing you with his hips as you stand next to him. You flip him off, and his eyes sparkle as he looks at you.
It stabs right through your heart, and you look away, searching for salvation on the tiles of the floor. It does nothing – reality is just a heartbeat away, and no matter how easy it is with Jungkook right now, you’re very aware that the moment the world returns to normalcy, your relationship with him will too.
And you still don’t understand where this is coming from. Where this easy complicity between you comes from, and why you’ve never really noticed before. Was it because of Taehyung?
It’s a question you ask yourself for the next hour, as you sit in Jungkook’s car listening to music and belting out tunes even though you’re not half the singer that he is. He doesn’t mention it, only laughs along with you before asking you stupid questions about your past, about Taehyung when you grew up and why you decided to move in with them.
He clearly doesn’t like you saying that it was just because it was convenient. It’s clear as spring water, and he pouts slightly as he says, “Not even for me?”
You punch him in the shoulder. “I didn’t know you when I moved in.”
“But now you do,” he teases, smirk moving on his lips.
There’s more meaning to his words than it seems, and you feel blush creeping on your cheeks. “Do I?”
“I’d say watching me jerk off and come is a good way to get to know me, no?”
“Jungkook!”
He laughs like a child as you flush furiously purple, trying to ignore how, as a matter of fact, his words are actually turning you on. You don’t want to think about last night, just want to focus on the now, on this unexpected friendship.
Jungkook has other plans for you, because he says, “Don’t tell me you didn’t like it.”
You glare at him. “Shut up.”
“You’re blushing.”
If possible, your glare intensifies. “Shut the fuck up.”
He dissolves in a fit of giggles that makes your heart skip a beat, and you roll your eyes before glancing at your phone.
“Mine’s full now,” you mutter.
For a reason you don’t quite understand, Jungkook has two phone cords in his car, both of them working to charge. He glances at his phone, shaking his head.
“You’re going to be stuck with me for longer, peach,” he tells you mischievously. “Mine’s only on 75%.”
“Do you really need it full?”
He offers you an innocent smile. “Definitely.”
Your phone buzzes, and you both glance towards it. You’ve received a text from Ria, in the group chat you share with the whole friend group. She’s asking how everyone’s surviving, and if anyone needs to crash at the dorm, which for some reason, is the only place on campus that still has power.
You hesitate for half a heartbeat before turning your phone off.
*****
Today was fun, albeit cold. After charging your phones in Jungkook’s car, you took a long walk through campus, just talking about everything and nothing as if you’d always been close.
As if he didn’t finger you with his cum last night.
Whenever the thought resurfaces, it makes you startle, and Jungkook smirks. Because he knows – obviously he does.
He knows the effect he has on you. You think he sees how you tense whenever his hand touches yours, whenever he stands just a little too close. And maybe that’s why you avoided going home for a long time, because you’re afraid that being stuck between four walls with him again will make you go insane.
Alas, when you both grow hungry sometime in the afternoon, you can’t force him to stay out, so you follow him home, ignoring the weight of your turned-off phone in your pocket.
Fortunately enough, on all the journey walking around campus, you didn’t run into anyone from your friend group. Somehow, you were afraid that you would – what would they think if they saw you hanging out with Jungkook?
More importantly, what would Hoseok think? Maybe it makes you an asshole, but in the moment, you don’t really care. You are entirely focused on Jungkook, mostly because it’s easy to be entirely focused on him. As if he’s the full moon in a summer night sky – he makes all the stars hard to see, as he shines too bright for their glow to be noticeable.
You sigh as you’re settled in the kitchen, door closed as Jungkook reheats something on the stove. It’s not extremely cold in the apartment, but keeping the door shut does help with keeping the kitchen warm enough to be bearable with only a thick sweater on.
You think Jungkook is crazy. He’s only wearing a beige and indigo athletic Nike vest, and he’s left it unzipped because he claimed he was getting too warm. Underneath, a white t-shirt rests loosely around his waist, and you’ve been doing your best to forget just how dainty his waist is, under all the clothes.
“See, we’re going to build up your heat tolerance,” he says over his shoulder, and he flashes you a grin before focusing on what he’s reheating again.
“Good luck with that,” you answer, chuckling. “I’ve tried before, and nothing works.”
“You and Tae really are the worst at that,” Jungkook teases, and you roll your eyes even if he can’t see.
Indeed, he’s turned his head towards the window, and he watches the sun as it gets lower in the sky, nearing the horizon. You’re afraid of when it’ll be gone under; you’re afraid it’ll elicit sinful activities between you and Jungkook again.
Afraid, yet with a certain kind of apprehension to it. Perhaps because it’s not fear of him, but rather fear of yourself.
It’s hard to remember that he’s Taehyung’s best friend when you’re alone with him like this.
Especially when he sets a steaming bowl of food in front of you, a wicked smile on his lips as he forces you to eat. As you choke on it, the heat too much to handle for you. Jungkook laughs out loud before handing you a glass of ice-cold water.
It barely helps, and the heat remains for a while as you eat, and even more so as you’re done, watching Jungkook eating a second portion as if he hasn’t eaten the first one in record time. You’re playing music on your phone, your usual study playlist – lo-fi beats – and Jungkook seems to like it. He’s been nodding his head to the music as he devoured his bowl.
When he finishes eating, sitting back in his chair as he rests a hand on his stomach, he once again offers you the wide grin. The sun is setting now – the whole kitchen is turning to gold, and you hate that the glow makes him look ethereal, like he’s a piece of heaven fallen to Earth for you to enjoy.
“Do you want to wash yourself?” Jungkook asks out of the blue. You cock an eyebrow in question, but before you’ve had a chance to say anything, he adds, “We could warm some water on the stove and use that to wash ourselves.”
Your eyes widen. “That’s actually a good idea.”
“Come on, peach,” he lets out, and he chuckles as he shakes his head, a little condescendingly. “You really think I’m stupid, don’t you?”
Stupid wouldn’t be the word that you’d use. Arrogant, maybe. Too full of himself, for sure. But you don’t think that saying so would be a good idea, so you only shrug.
“Aren’t you?”
He bursts out laughing, that goofy smile that makes your heart skip beats in your chest as if you’re twelve and it’s the first time you’re speaking to a guy. “I’m not, thank you very much. I wouldn’t be in college if I was.”
“Lots of stupid people are in college,” you point out mischievously.
He tuts. “I’d thought by now you’d know I’m not a lot of people, peach.” He cocks his head to the side, and his eyes drop to your lips. “You get fingered by a lot of guys like that?”
You turn to fire. “Excuse me?”
And the goofy smile returns, as if he didn’t just say the crudest sentence in the world. “Just teasing you.”
You narrow your eyes but don’t find any retort to that. It makes Jungkook’s grin widen, and then he gets up to bring your bowl and his to the sink. As he’s rinsing them, he offers you a look.
“Should I reheat some water then?” he asks, the teasing tone gone.
You try a look towards him, but standing there, the sun forms too much of an aura around him, so you can barely see him even if you squint your eyes.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
“One pot for you and one for me, then!”
His statement makes you laugh, and you get up to actually help him get the pots on the stove. You turn the gas on, using the lighter so that the flames catch, and soon the water is heating up, and the prospect of freshening up brings a smile to your lips.
You notice Jungkook looking at it, features turning somber. And he’s quick to look away. Quick to focus on where the sun dipped under the horizon, watching the clouds turning to gold above.
“Have you spoken to Tae today?” he asks, and the reminder of your brother makes you clench your jaw, ever so slightly.
“No,” you admit. You think he’ll say more, but he remains silent. So you take it upon yourself to make conversation, and you ask, “Have you?”
He shrugs. “Just told him the power is still out.”
“Mmh.”
The silence is deafening then – you can barely hear it over the clamour in your thoughts. And you don’t know where it’s coming from, only that the more the silence stretches, the more you grow unsteady on your feet.
“How did you guys meet?” you ask, voice sounding a little strained.
Jungkook shoots you a look. “He didn’t tell you?”
You purse your lips and shake your head no, which earns you a chuckle from him. It makes you grow suspicious, and you narrow your gaze. “What?”
“Nothing.” He pauses, observes your features for a moment with those big doe eyes of his before he says, “We met Frosh week.”
You remain silent, waiting for him to continue.
“He was pissed out drunk in a bush,” Jungkook admits, and his eyes fog up with the memories as he looks away from you. “Jimin is the one that found him first. And mind you, I only knew Jimin for a few days then, since we were dorm roommates.”
But you know how easy friendship forms in that Frosh week. You and Nabi are a good example of it after all.
“We couldn’t find anyone who knew him, so we brought him back to the dorm. He threw up in Jimin’s bed, and the next day he suggested grabbing breakfast together, as a thank you for taking care of him.”
Jungkook smiles fondly, and his gaze connects with yours. “And the rest is history.”
It sure is. You’re not really sure where you come into this story – if you should come into it at all. Because Jungkook and Taehyung really are close – what would Taehyung say if he knew what Jungkook and you did?
It’s a scary thought, one that you’ve remedied with Jungkook already. You just have to not tell Taehyung, simple as that.
“I think the water is ready,” Jungkook admits, and he dips his fingers in one of the pots. He nods, before saying, “You can grab yours, and go to the bathroom. I’ll clean up in my room.”
“Don’t you need soap?”
He raises an eyebrow. “You know soap can be carried outside of a bathroom? Like, it’s not confined-“
His sentence dies as you punch him in the chest, and he starts laughing as you curse him under your breath, grabbing the pot.
“Open the door for me,” you grumble as you walk towards it.
“Please?”
You look up to the water-stained ceiling. “Are you for real?”
“Yes.”
You debate silently, though you know that you’ll cave in.
You reckon you’ll always cave in where Jungkook is concerned.
“Can you please open the door for me?” you ask, and you scold yourself internally for not being able to stand your ground.
“Of course, peach,” he says, grinning widely. “I can actually carry that to the bathroom for you, I need to grab soap and a towel anyway.”
He walks towards you, gently taking the pot out of your hands, so you end up opening the door for him, begrudgingly following him to the bathroom. You follow him in, watching him as he carefully puts the pot down in the sink.
“Here you go,” he says as he shoots you a look over his shoulder.
You can’t help but look away as your gazes connect, before mumbling, “Thank you.”
“You could at least sound happy about it,” he teases. You roll your eyes, though a smile teases the corners of your lips. Jungkook taps your cheek, and you bristle, stepping away from him.
If he cares he doesn’t show it, instead moving to grab a washcloth and his shower gel.
Are you disappointed to see him go? Maybe. But you don’t let it show, instead shutting the door behind him, making sure to lock it before you strip out of your clothes to wash up.
It’s freezing, and you hate every second of it, so you make it quick, washing the most strategic and important body parts. When you’re done, you move to grab your clean clothes from the…
You never grabbed clean clothes, did you?
You curse under your breath, mostly cursing Jungkook for making you so stupid around him. You hate it - you feel like you lose most of your brain cells when he’s around. But you can’t help it, and you tightly wrap yourself in a towel as you pray to the God above, if there’s one, to not make you run into Jungkook as you walk back to your room.
Of course, Jungkook opens the door to his room the second you are in front of it. You startle, freezing like a deer in headlights, and Jungkook’s gaze dips to your legs.
You hate the smirk growing on his lips the second it appears.
“What’s got you walking around naked in this temperature?”
Though you reckon his gaze warms you up in an instant, you reply, “Fuck off, I just forgot to get clean clothes.”
He leans against his doorframe, slipping his hands in the pocket of his grey sweatpants. He looks the perfect picture of male insolence, and fuck, it does things to you that it shouldn’t.
Like, make you remember that he fingered you with his cum yesterday. Thinking about it, it was a really stupid thing to do, but you hadn’t been able to resist…
And from the way he’s eyeing you right now, you highly doubt you’ll be able to resist him again. You realize then that the apartment is darkening, that soon you’ll have to light up the candles…
You’re sinking in quicksands, aren’t you?
“How unfortunate,” Jungkook comments, always so arrogant.
“I said it already, but do really fuck off, JK,” you reply.
He tilts his head to the side - the predator, and you, its next meal. “That’s not what you were saying yesterday.”
You blush, bright scarlet taking over your features, and you roll your eyes, choosing to ignore his comment as you finish walking to your room.
“That’s what I thought,” he says behind you, and you flip him off over your shoulder, which makes him laugh that boyish laugh that does things to you.
You lean against the bedroom door once you get in, heart beating out of your chest, cursing power for going out, and cursing your brother for choosing to do a semester abroad.
It’s useless - the cursing, that is. Because it won’t change anything, and a small, tiny, minuscule part of you doesn’t want it to… so you curse yourself too for good measure.
By the time you finally emerge from your bedroom, the sun has fully set, and you’ve been using your phone as a flashlight. Jungkook is sitting in the living room, playing on his Switch, which apparently still has battery, and he glances at you as you approach.
“Want to play a game?” he asks, offering you a small smile.
His features are lit from the screen, and he looks soft, his big eyes slightly crinkling at the corners. You hold in your own smile, instead cocking an eyebrow.
“So that I can beat your ass?” you say.
You watch as fire catches in his gaze, and you think he’s about to burn you to the spot. “Oh, you wanna play this game?” he says, his voice suddenly an octave lower.
A thrilled shiver runs down your spine, and you finish crossing the distance between you and him, sitting next to him. The leather couch is freezing, but you hold your wince in as you motion to the Switch.
“You think you can beat my ass?” he asks.
“I know I can.”
He smirks, leaning back on the couch. He rests his head against the backrest, turning his head towards you. “Oh, peach,” he breathes out. “You’re cute when you try to be sassy.”
You widen your gaze. “Try to be sassy! I’m serious, I’ll beat your ass.”
“In any game?” he asks, and his eyes dip to your lips.
“Mario Kart,” you say, folding your arms on your chest.
You’re wearing a thick sweater, yet it doesn’t stop Jungkook from looking down, and you know exactly what he’s seeing - you, with your legs spread wide open for him like they were yesterday.
“Winner gets head,” he says, and you really think you’re about to catch fire.
“What about Tae?”
You can’t help the question. Because you don’t want to do that to your brother, but you’ve been unable to resist. You know shame and guilt will catch up to you one day - hell, Ria will never let you live it down if she learns what’s already happened.
Jungkook shrugs. “I don’t think it’d make any difference after yesterday.”
“So you want me to choke on your dick?”
Night and you and Jeon Jungkook really don’t mix well, do they? Because you want him. You want him so bad right now you think you’re about to go insane, yet you know you shouldn’t.
“Fuck, peach.” He chuckles. “I want to know if you taste as good as you look.”
You wet your lips, and his eyes fall to your mouth, staying there as you say, “Well then, winner gets head,” you murmur, and you think he’s about to say ‘fuck it’ and jump on you.
You really do think he won’t be able to resist, and frankly, you don’t want him to. You feel yourself leaning forward, a moth to the flame, but Jungkook clears his throat, and his eyes shoot to yours.
“Deal.”
Jungkook sets up the game, and since you can’t play multiplayer thanks to the power being out and the TV not functioning, you settle on whoever gets first place first. Which you reckon is stupid - getting first place when you’re playing against the AI isn’t really an impressive feat.
You shiver before Jungkook starts his race, and he pauses the game to glance at you. “Do you want to go to your room?”
You cock an eyebrow. “Too excited to play here?”
He rolls his eyes, though a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “No, you’re freezing, and I figured, since your room is the smallest, if we do like yesterday, we can probably keep it warm. Or at least warmer than here.” His last words are accompanied by a vague motion of his hand encompassing the living room, and you reckon he does have a point.
“Sure then,” you say, nodding once.
You get up from the couch, and Jungkook quickly follows you. He’s so close, looming behind you like he’s the predator about to pounce on its prey, and you shudder with delight, warmth pooling in your lower stomach.
You think he knows. You’re convinced he does, because a few minutes later, when you’re in your room with the candles on, sitting on your bed, he leans against the wall, abandoning his Switch to the side.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s so easy to get into your bed, peach,” he teases, and you startle when one of his large hands lightly grazes your thigh.
You swat it away without an ounce of regret, even though the spot he touched feels like it’s been hit by lightning. “Are you saying I’m easy?”
His mouth falls open and he looks surprised, even maybe a little apologetic. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
The wicked smile you offer him makes him chuckle as he realizes you were teasing him, and he grabs his Switch, his brow creasing a little with the frown that adorns his features from concentrating. It’s cute. You reckon it’s adorable, and you reckon you shouldn’t feel that way about your brother’s best friend, so you push the thought as far away as you can.
It’s not like Jungkook is the kind of guy you should feel endearment for. Because you know he’d only break your heart - he’s not the most popular guy on campus for nothing, after all.
“Ready?” he tells you.
You nod. “Good luck.”
He doesn’t need it. He gets first place, and he puts his Switch down on the bed as you realize what it means.
But you’re not going to give in so easily to him, will you?
“If I get first place, too, then this doesn’t count.”
He fake-glares at you, but he shrugs. “Alright. Let’s see if you can get first place.”
The way he says it is ominous, and you gulp, cheeks flushing with pink as you grab the Switch. As per always, you choose Peach as your character, which obviously earns you a snicker from Jungkook, but you don’t mind.
Maybe because you’re starting to like when he calls you peach.
You easily start the race in the first position, Peach racing and drifting ahead of the AI-controlled characters. Jungkook shifts next to you, attracting your attention, and you almost run into a wall, thankfully recovering quickly.
It doesn’t last long. Because next time he shifts, Jungkook brushes your thigh, and you just know he has a wicked smirk on his lips without having to look at him.
“Stop,” you say through gritted teeth.
“Or what?” he purrs, and you nudge him with an elbow. He just laughs, his hand now resting flatly on your thigh. “Got trouble focusing?”
“You’re cheating,” you whine, and you’re hit by a blue shell which puts you back a few positions.
“Am I?” he breathes out.
You sigh as he leans closer to you, and his nose brushes your cheek. Instinctively, you tilt your head to the side, and he chuckles as he pushes your hair off your shoulder, before leaning even closer.
His lips ghost on your neck, and your eyes flutter close, the Switch entirely forgotten in your hands.
“Jungkook…”
His tongue darts out, tasting you, and then he sucks a hickey on your skin. “What?”
“What are you doing?” you ask, voice barely over a whisper.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about my fingers inside of you,” he says, huskily. “All fucking day.” He nibbles at your earlobe, and you let out a breathy sound that makes him chuckle again. “Just been thinking about how you’d feel on my dick too.”
“Fuck.”
“I know.” He kisses your jaw, and then pulls away, sitting back against the wall. “I think you lost.”
You open your eyes, realizing that you’re still holding the Switch. He’s right – the AIs have finished while Jungkook was teasing you, and you stare at the screen for a few seconds before meeting his gaze.
He looks victorious, happy with himself. You want to wipe the smirk off his lips, so you put down the Switch on the bed, kneeling next to him.
“So you want me to suck your dick now?” you say, voice low, and you drag a hand on his thigh.
His tongue toys with his piercings. “Well, wasn’t that the deal?”
Emboldened, you straddle his lap, and you wrap a hand around his throat for support. You feel him swallow, and you lean closer, watching as the smirk slowly disappears from his lips.
“Was it?”
He gulps. He fucking gulps, and you can’t help but bite your lower lip. Even though the room is cold, you feel warm, a tingly sensation slowly taking over your entire body. His eyes fall to your mouth, and it takes him a few seconds before he says, “Yes.”
You have him right where you want him to be. “Damn, who knew Jeon Jungkook wanted me so bad?”
You lean in, brushing your lips on his, tongue darting out to play with his piercings. He doesn’t move, doesn’t do anything, though you can tell that he wants to touch you.
Maybe because you’re perched on his erection.
“Maybe Tae should have left before, mmh?” you continue. “Maybe you wouldn’t be so desperate…”
Jungkook grabs your waist, spinning you around dizzyingly until you’re on the bed and he’s hovering over you. “Enough,” he says, voice rough.
You don’t lose the smirk. “Or what?”
He wets his lips and then leans in. “I’m going to have so much fun wiping that smirk from your lips, peach.”
“Oh, will you now?” you fire back. “Better get into action then.”
One of his hands grabs the side of your head, tightening around your hair, and he forces you to turn your head to the side. He leaves wet kisses down your neck and then moves back up to your jaw.
“If only Tae knew how much of a slut you are,” Jungkook says. “A pretty little slut.” Your smirk wavers as he pushes your legs apart with a knee. “I wonder, are you already soaked for me, mmh?”
“Why don’t you find out?”
He chuckles darkly. “Fucking hell, you really are driving me crazy.”
And even though you shouldn’t, even though Jungkook is your older brother’s best friend, even though you know guilt will eventually catch up to you, you say, “Then act on it, JK. Show me just how crazy I’m making you feel.”
His mouth collides with yours with force, and you immediately reach up, running your hands through his hair. He sucks on your tongue, earning a moan from you, and he grunts as you pull on his hair, the soft strands feeling like silk on your fingers.
He grinds into you, and you feel the powerful length of him rub against you. You know he’ll stretch you wide open, and you want him so bad it almost hurts.
You think you’ve wanted him for months already. Yesterday, you could blame it on the alcohol, on your inhibition being altered, but today… Today you know it’s always been about the tattoos, the piercings, and the shameless flirting.
You’ve been in Jungkook’s orbit ever since September – you were bound to crash into him someday.
Jungkook pulls away to meet your gaze. The weight of his body on yours feels right – better than Hoseok’s ever felt. The thought douses you, and you think Jungkook notices.
You know he does, because he says, “Are you sure you want to do this?”
Your eyes flit around his features for a time – his nose, his mouth, the mole underneath his lips, his left eye, the scar on his cheek. They eventually settle on his lip piercings.
“Are you getting insecure?” you tease. Because it’s all that you know how to do, the only way you can think of pushing the vulnerability away.
His tongue pokes at his cheek, and he presses another searing kiss on your lips. You can’t help but moan softly as he grinds again, and you instinctively wrap your legs around him, your arms circling his neck as well.
When he pulls away next, it’s to rest his forehead against yours. You breathe the same air for a few seconds, until he says, “Consent is hot, peach. Tell me you want it, or I’m stopping now.”
“I want it, JK,” you answer. “I want you to fuck me dumb until my room isn’t cold anymore.”
Jungkook straightens, kneeling between your legs. The candles cast flickering lights on his honey skin, and you watch unblinkingly as he takes off his shirt.
He’s beautiful. You realized that yesterday, though you didn’t see him without the shirt. But he’s truly beautiful, all muscle and delicate waist, and his skin glows golden under the light of the candles. His brown nipples are perked prettily on his chest, and you want to touch him, want to drag your hands over every powerful line of his body.
“Shit, it’s fucking cold,” he says, and he quickly bends down again.
You grab the blankets, pulling them on top of him. Without any trace of hesitation, you rest your hands on his back, and you lightly scratch him with your nails.
“Then we better get you warmed up,” you purr.
You don’t need to say it twice. Jungkook finds your mouth again, and he grunts as you dig your nails in his skin, before releasing the pressure. He then goes down to your jaw, down your neck, and he disappears under the covers, spreading your legs wide open with his large hands.
“Can I take these off?” his muffled voice says from beneath the blankets.
You pull enough on the covers to see his face, big doe eyes awaiting your consent. “Yes.”
He smirks wickedly. “Good.”
He’s quick to rid you of your pants. He leaves your panties on, his large hands caressing your thighs as he settles between your legs. You know he’s going to eat you out, and you think you’ll go insane. But nothing could have prepared you for how much of a tease he is.
Indeed, Jungkook presses light kisses on the insides of your thighs, mouth ghosting over where you need him the most, never once giving in to your desires. You’re soaking wet, painfully so by the time you groan, hand flying to his hair as you try to push his head where you want him.
He resists, chuckling darkly. “Growing a little impatient?”
“Eat me out,” you answer breathlessly. “Fuck.”
“Why should I?” He bites the inside of your thigh. “I love watching you squirm under me.”
You whine, yet this time, he licks the wet spot on your panties. Your thighs instinctively close, and he forces them wide open again.
“Don’t move,” he orders.
You try to obey. You really do, but when he pushes your panties to the side and sucks on your clit, your back arches off the bed.
“Jungkook,” you breathe out.
He doesn’t answer, too busy pushing his tongue inside you, parting your folds easily. You moan, and your grip on his hair tightens, though you keep him close. And he doesn’t seem like he wants to pull away. He starts making out with your pussy, squelching sounds coming from between your legs with every swipe of his tongue.
Soon, he gets bored of pushing his tongue in and out of you, and he moves back to your clit, circling it unforgivingly. He’s good, that much you’ll admit, and when he circles your entrance with one long finger, you moan again.
“You want it?” he asks, pulling away just long enough to voice the words.
He’s right back on your clit a fraction of a second later, and he sucks on it, flicking the sensitive bud with his tongue.
You feel the orgasm. It’s still far, but it’s on the horizon of your conscience, and you know it’ll hit good once it does. So you say, “Please, Jungkook.”
He doesn’t disappoint. He pushes his finger in, arches it to rub that sweet spot inside of you in time with the motions of his tongue on your clit. You grind in his face by reflex, and he grunts against you as you do so, resting his tongue flat on your clit so that you can pleasure yourself on his face.
He must know it’s not enough. Because after a few seconds of it, he starts moving his face from side to side, and the orgasm looms closer, aiming for you at the speed of light.
It hits when Jungkook pushes a second finger in, stretching you, and your walls clench hard against his digits, though he keeps on pushing them in and out of you in a steady rhythm. He sucks on your clit as you come, and you think you’ve moaned his name at least twice by the time he finally pulls away, drying his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Shit, peach,” he says, and you watch him through the ecstasy blurring your gaze. “You taste so fucking good.”
As if he wants to show you, he captures your mouth in a kiss. You taste yourself, but you’re too fucked out to be able to agree or disagree with him. All you can do is moan in his mouth, and he swallows it with a swipe of his tongue.
And as he keeps kissing you, keeps branding himself in your mouth, you run your hand on his body, blood boiling from the sheer strength that you know he has. You reach for the band of his sweatpants, going lower to wrap your hand around his clothed length.
He’s big and heavy in your hand.
Mostly, he’s not wearing any underwear. Or if he is, they are extremely loose, because you’re able to wrap your fingers around him even through the sweatpants. He bucks his hips, and you tighten your hold.
“Why don’t you put that pretty hand under the clothes, mmh?” he teases against your jaw, before he goes to nibbling on your ear. “I’ve been wanting to feel it wrapped around my cock.”
You don’t hesitate. You move back up to the band of his sweatpants, and you quickly push your hand in. You sigh in delight as you find he’s not wearing any underwear, fingers grazing over the velvety softness of his length. He hisses but doesn’t say anything as you test the waters, slowly grabbing his dick.
You lightly stroke him, and he bucks his hips, trying to fuck your hand.
“Impatient, aren’t you?” you tease him, and he bites at your jaw.
“I’ve been wanting you for a really long time, peach.”
His words make your heart pause in your chest. Because you feel like there’s a deeper meaning, like it isn’t just shameless flirting in the heat of the action. It reminds you of the kiss yesterday, of the way he’d pulled you on his lap with no other intention than to kiss you.
And it makes you tighten your grip on his dick, and he grunts as you start jerking him off faster. But it’s awkward and clumsy with the sweatpants on, so you pull your hand out after a few seconds.
“Take these off,” you say, and he immediately kneels to obey, taking off his sweatpants quickly before resuming his position between your legs.
You’re not sure you were prepared for the sight of Jeon Jungkook fully naked in your bed. Though goosebumps prick at his skin from the cold, he still looks devilish, like he’s about to drag you to hell. His dick stands proud and tall, leaking precum, and the muscles of his thighs strain against his skin.
He’s big. And not just his dick. Jungkook works out a lot, spends hours every week at the gym, and it truly shows in every angle of him. He looks sculpted in marble, a perfect body that accentuates the beauty of his features, that contradicts the innocence of his big eyes.
Or maybe what truly contradicts it is the way he fists his cock, jerking off quickly as he eyes you. As he stares you down, and you feel ready to go all over again just from the sight of it.
“You have condoms?” he asks, and he grunts as he keeps jerking himself off.
You have half a thought to tell him to keep going, to come all over you, but you want it too much to resist. So you motion to your night table, saying, “Bottom drawer.”
He nods appreciatively, letting go of his cock so that he can bend and rummage through the drawer until he finds the condoms. He winces as he straightens, a tinfoil package in hand.
“Pretty sure that’s going to be too tight for me.”
You roll your eyes. “Condoms stretch, you know that?”
“Not enough,” he says, flicking your nose teasingly. “But I don’t think we should go raw, so that’ll do.”
Yet, the thought of going raw with him… You grab a hold of his wrist before he’s able to start unrolling the condom on his dick, and he cocks an eyebrow as he meets your gaze.
“Are you clean?”
You see him gulp. Indeed, his throat bobs, and he tilts his head to the side. “Got tested last week,” he admits. “But I really don’t think we should go raw.”
“I’m clean.”
“You’ve been fucking that other guy,” Jungkook says.
“We always wear protection.”
Jungkook purses his lips, taking a deep breath. “Honestly peach, I think I wouldn’t last a minute if I fucked you raw right now. Let me put the condom on.”
He says it in a stern way that makes you let go of his wrist. You feel bad, wondering if you were pushing a boundary, but Jungkook doesn’t seem like he notices. Indeed, he busies himself with putting the condom on, rolling it down his dick, and he winces in pain once it’s all the way down.
“That shit’s fucking tight,” he comments, and then he positions himself between your legs again. His large hands find your thighs, and he caresses up and down once before meeting your gaze. “Are you okay?” he asks, with no lust or desire or anything other than concern for you.
Because of course, he’d notice that you’re feeling bad.
“Sorry if I was insisting…” you say, vaguely motioning to his dick.
He looks down at himself. “About the condom?” He waits for you to nod your head before he says anything else. “Peach, don’t worry about it. I’m seriously close right now, which is really fucking weird, and I just want to be able to make you feel good, m’kay?” He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. You melt, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him close. He chuckles, mumbling against your lips, “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, but you really turn me on.”
You think you know what it is. You don’t think it’s about you, or about him. It’s rather about the feeling of doing something you shouldn’t be doing. Of doing something forbidden, because he’s Taehyung’s friend, and you’re Taehyung’s younger sister.
But you don’t say it. Instead, you whisper, “Then fuck me good, Jungkook.”
He lets out a breathy sound as he leans his forehead against yours. There’s something so intimate about the gesture that you feel your heart soaring in your chest, and then he pushes your ruined panties to the side again so that he can nudge your entrance with his dick.
“I will,” he promises, and then he pushes in. Just his tip, yet your mouth falls open at how large he already feels, and you tighten your hold on his neck. “Let me know if it hurts.”
Unforgivingly, Jungkook slams all the way in. You let out a broken sound, and he quickly captures your lips in a kiss as he stays right there, deep inside of you, unmoving so that you can adjust around him. And you know you have a lot of adjusting to do – he’s so large it burns, yet the pain feels good. Far too good, and you easily understand how Jungkook got the reputation that he has.
When Jungkook pulls away from the kiss, he slowly pulls out, before pushing all the way in again. Your walls suck him in, and he grunts, leaning his forehead against yours once more.
“Fuck,” he groans. “You feel so fucking good.”
Before you can reply, Jungkook establishes a steady rhythm. Nothing too crazy, but the drag of his dick on your walls is making you see stars, and you softly moan as he keeps moving, never once faltering.
“Moan for me, peach,” he breathlessly says. “I want to hear you fucking screaming my name.”
And then everything changes. Jungkook kneels between your thighs, pulls your legs against his chest, and starts pounding into you, bending down just enough to hit the sweetest spot inside of you. The change of rhythm and position makes you cry out, and your walls clench around him.
He echoes your cry with a moan of his own, something breathless that makes you want to look at him, to stay with him like this forever. So you open your eyes, and the sight of him is nearly enough to make you climax right then and there.
Yet you don’t. You don’t come as you just watch him, watch the way he’s frowning, teeth digging in his lower lip once in a while. Beads of sweat quickly appear on his temples, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t falter, not even once, as he fucks you, and you feel that familiar knot forming in your lower stomach.
You still don’t come. You keep it in – you don’t know why. You just enjoy the moment, refusing to rush towards its ending. Instead, when Jungkook pushes your legs open so that he can bend down and kiss you again, you welcome him in. You wrap your legs tight around him, keeping him close, and you scratch at his back with one hand, the other getting lost in his hair.
He grunts in your mouth, and he finally switches the rhythm, aiming for harder yet slower. It makes him reach new depths, and you can’t help but moan loudly as he keeps going, keeps ramming into you.
For the first time ever since you moved here, your bed slams into the wall from the force of Jungkook’s thrusts. It’s hot, especially as he moves to your neck, sucking hard.
“Best fucking pussy,” he says in your ear. “Fuck.”
And then he straightens again, forcing you to let go of him, before pulling out. You whine at the sudden loss of sensation, but he just looks down at your pussy, licking his lips at the sight.
“You’re so fucking creamy and wet,” he tells you. “Look at my cock.”
You obey, looking down to where your bodies almost meet. His dick is indeed covered with your juices, and Jungkook gently pushes it between your folds, collecting even more juice. It’s sinful, inherently so, and you moan lightly as he rubs his dick on your clit.
“Think you’ll be able to come for me again?” he asks.
You look up, meeting his gaze. His lips are slightly parted as he breathes in and out quickly, and he smirks wickedly as you nod, once.
“Make me come,” you say, finding some defiance in you again. “You think you’ll be able to do that for me?”
His gaze widens, and then he chuckles. “Fuck peach.” He chuckles again, slightly shaking his head. “I’m going to get addicted to this fucking pussy of yours.”
You whine as he moves from between your legs, lying down on his back. You shoot him a look, and he motions at his body as if in invitation. It makes you laugh, yet you still climb on top of him, grinding on his dick.
His eyes go to your chest, and he gently grabs the hem of your shirt. Even though it’s still cold in your room – though warmer than before – you quickly take off your shirt, wincing as the cold air hits you head on.
“So pretty,” Jungkook praises, and his hands reach up to push your breasts together. “So fucking pretty.”
You blush slightly under the praise, and you’re about to sink on his dick when he stops you. Your eyes go wide, and he motions to your panties.
“Take these off too. I want to see all of you.”
He says it with so much reverence for you that you can’t say no. You can only obey, sitting next to him just long enough so that you can remove the panties. They are soaked, and you throw them towards the dirty clothes hamper before climbing back on top of Jungkook.
Your gazes meet, and there’s a moment of you watching each other. You wish you could read his gaze, wish you could know what it means when he grabs your wrists to pull you down. Your eyes never disconnect from his, not even as one of his hands goes between your bodies so that he can align his dick with your entrance.
And then he pushes up, pushes in. As if you forgot just how big he is, you moan, eyes fluttering shut on instinct. Jungkook grunts, wrapping his arms around your waist, before saying, “Look at me.”
You do. You meet his gaze again and try to hold it as he starts jackhammering into you, the new angle so good you feel like you’re slowly slipping out of your body, soaring towards the sky outside. It’s so good all you can think about is him, his body, the way that he holds you so gently yet fucks you so rough. You rest one hand on the side of his face as he keeps fucking you, and when you can’t resist anymore, you hide your face in his neck.
“You’re such a good girl,” Jungkook says. “You take me so fucking well.” He grunts loudly, slamming to the hilt. You think he’s coming, but then he pulls almost all the way out, before slamming in again. “I never want to stop fucking you.”
You moan, and then your lips ghost on the shell of his ear. Though you’ve been struggling to speak, you say, “You’re so fucking big.”
“I know,” he breathes out. “Let me know if I hurt you.”
You whine. “Never. You’d never hurt me.”
His grip on you tightens, like he’s trying to say he wouldn’t hurt you, wouldn’t be able to, and then he’s fucking you again. The knot in your stomach comes back in full force, especially as he starts whispering filthy praises in your ear, growing more breathless with every swipe of his hips.
Just when you think you’ll come, Jungkook grunts, “I’m going to c-“
He never finishes his sentence, but the feeling of his dick twitching inside of you as he stills deep inside makes you fly over the edge, and your walls start spasming around his cock, milking his orgasm. It feels far too good, like you’ve reached nirvana, and it takes you so long to come down from your high that you believe you never will.
But you do. You do, and the first thing you notice is the cold. Though it’s a lot warmer than it was when you started this whole ordeal, you still shiver.
Jungkook gently pulls a blanket over you, before circling your waist again. He doesn’t let go, not even as his dick, now soft, slips out of you. He lets you lay on top of him, ear against his chest so that you listen to his heartbeat, refusing to move.
You don’t want anything to pop this bubble of peace. Never. You just want to stay here with him, content breathing in the same air as him, until eternity flashes in front of you. Until you grow old and grey, to go to sleep forever. It’s a powerful feeling, though you like to tell yourself that it’s mutual. That his heart, beating softly in his chest, beats for you, in time with the beats of your own heart. You hope that he, too, doesn’t want to let go, though you reckon that this probably was just a hook-up to him, something he’ll be proud of, yet keep to himself. Because wouldn’t Jungkook be the kind of guy to be proud he bagged the little sister? You think he would.
And the thought scares you more than you would ever dare to admit.
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Is it me or is it hot in here? oof- Let me know what you thought of this chapter! I hope that smidge of angst at the end doesn't scare you too much...... bc trust me it scares me OOP
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#chasing cars ch 4#jungkook smut#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#jungkook x you#jungkook x reader#jungkook fic#jungkook#jjk smut#jjk angst#jjk fluff#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk fic#jjk#jeon jungkook#btswritersclub#chasing cars#chasing cars series
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Last Goodbye | LH44
summary: reader is involved in a car accident during qualifying. can Lewis make it to her on time to say one last goodbye
a/n: lol, the summary is way more dramatic than it needs to be. I'm trying a different pov. Let me know what you think. Requests are open.
The sun was positioned high in the sky, the wind softly tickled the trees and there wasn't a single cloud in view for miles. The perfect Saturday afternoon to hold the Qualification Races for the British Grand Prix which would take place on Sunday. Lewis had left earlier that day just like the other racers in order to get to the track on time and begin preparing with their teams. Due to her work, Y/n was unable to attend most races on the calendar but she wouldn't miss the Silverstone race for anything in the world. It was their home race, the one time she got to spend the whole weekend with Lewis and their family while he worked. As scary as it was for her, she loved watching her favourite person do what he did best and inspire millions while he did it.
As was their tradition for home race weekends, Lewis had left Y/n her favourite breakfast in the kitchen, a handwritten note on a counter and a soft kiss on her forehead while she slept then quietly snuck out with Roscoe under his arm. She would have offered to bring their son with her later in the day but she knew that Roscoe had eager fans in the engineers' garage that were waiting to spend the day with him. So she got up and went about her morning on her own, tidying up and making snacks for later when Lewis came home knackered and starving.
She picked up her bag, patted herself down for keys then checked her phone for any last minute requests from her boyfriend. Seeing nothing new since the previous texts she sent, she figured he may have already started racing so she took a quick selfie and sent it with a caption. "I think I stand a chance of overshadowing your paddock outfit today, lol. I'm leaving the house, see you soon. Knock 'em dead, love" She giggled at her awful sense of humour before leaving the house and locking up.
The drive to the track was usually short but on such an eventful day, there were many cars on the road and one could feel the buzz of excitement and anticipation in the air. Y/n wasn't an anxious driver but seeing people pull risky moves between the lanes made her drive with a foot hovering above her brakes just in case.
○○○○
"Okay, Lewis, P2 for Q1 was a great start. Let's keep that up and improve if we can. Q2 starts in 10 minutes, yeah?" Fred clapped Lewis' shoulder and walked off to another part of the garage.
"Yeah, thanks, man." Lewis replied as he stood in the red garage looking at the screen replaying his latest performance on the track. Roscoe pawed at his foot and whined, clearly requesting to be picked up. The bulldog seemed to forget that at his old age he was getting heavier but his father lovingly adhered and brought Roscoe to his chest with a grunt and a kiss to the forehead. "Where's your mum, eh? She's usually the one cuddling you during qualy, huh?"
He looked around the garage to see if his girlfriend had entered while he was distracted. He knew that the drive there wasn't very short but she always arrived before Q2 began so he was slightly confused. "Hey Marc, have you heard from Y/n or my dad?" he asked an engineer as he glanced at his phone. "No, nothing. There is traffic at the entrance though so that may be causing their delayed arrival." the Italian responded. Lewis nodded seeming satisfied as he read Y/n's text confirming that she was on her way. He grinned like a love struck fool at the picture she sent of herself decked out from head to toe in Ferrari merchandise. She was truly the most beautiful being he had ever seen and he wondered for umpteenth time how he had lived before he met her. He sent heart emojis in response and went back to watching the recording on the screens.
○○○○
Y/n sighed in relief as she reached the last intersection before the paddock entrance. She could see gates from here and couldn't wait to get out of her car and see her son and boyfriend. The red light she had stopped at turned green and she let her foot off the break to move forward. As she was about to cross the middle of the intersection, she noticed the cars behind her screech to a sudden holt but before she could access the confusing situation her car was hit from the side and she was sent jolting forward. The last thing in her vision was the airbag exploding into her face. She was unconscious by the time the horrified bystanders saw her car get thrust into the nearest pole by the driver who ran the red.
○○○○
Lewis was seated in the red and yellow car and about to put on his helmet when he saw marshals, guests and staff hurrying in the direction of the paddock entrance. Focused on the next part of the race, he tried to stay grounded and drown out the sounds of shouting. "Lucas, radio check." he said to his engineer. "It's Lewis, radio check." Silence on the other end. He could now hear the sound of sirens in the air. "Lucas? Can-"
"Loud and clear, Lewis. Apologies for the delay, we were receiving a call from the stewards that there has been a car accident outside the entrance so there will be distractions during the second session."
Lewis grimaced and secured the position of his helmet on his head. Car accidents were awful to witness so he really felt sorry for those who were involved. He took hold of the steering wheel.
"That's awful. Do we know who it is? Has help arrived?" He asked sincerely.
"Uh, not really. They say it's a blue and red Audi and a black-"
"A what?" Lewis felt his blood run cold and his suit get tight. He didn't think he heard right. He couldn't have heard that right.
"A blue and red Audi. Anyways, let's focus on the ra-" Lewis didn't let Lucas finish because he shot up and scrambled to get out of the car he was strapped into. He fell out, landed on all fours but got up to rip off his helmet. His knees stung and there were shouts all around him but he had no time to listen. His skin was hot, his throat was tight and DAMN IT, WHY WOULDN'T HIS GLOVES COME OFF! Frustrated, he took off in a sprint towards the paddock entrance, shoving everybody out of his way. In the back of his foggy mind, he thought he heard barking right behind him but was too distracted to check.
When he finally made it off the racetrack property, he was buzzing with adrenaline, covered in sweat and coughing from screaming at the crowd to let him through. At the end of the driveway he could see two green ambulances and multiple police cars parked in a taped off area. "Oh, God. Oh God, no."
He only knew one person with a red and blue Audi. A red and blue Audi that he had gifted them. One person who hadn't yet arrived to the Ferrari garage.
He stumbled forward to take in the scene illuminated by flashing lights. But before he could mumble out another plea to God, he stopped dead in his tracks. A black body bag. Beside what was left of the blue and red Audi that belonged to his girlfriend.
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Thanks for reading! Be sure to interact with this post before you leave. Requests are open (I may take 2-3 days to respond)
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#lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton x you#lewis hamilton angst#lh44#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#lewis hamilton imagine#f1 ferrari#charles leclerc#charles leclerc fic#carlos sainz
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;; haruan thoughts again because im actually looking at the line distribution for the april fools covers. and??? it's impossible to match up haruka and an's lines 1 for 1 because of the number of people being different person cover but a lot of them do match up either way.
;; tw: mentions of familial death
;; spoilers for: the more more jump! main story, beyond the dream on that day, the vivid old tale and light up the fire
;; they both have the opening two lines about emotions being useless no matter what. and the both of them have emotions they deem "useless" to their goals.
;; we know from beyond the dream on that day that haruka has problems expressing her emotions and is confused as a kid as to why she can't smile like the other kids her age. on the other hand, an is shown to be very expressive in a vivid old tale, to the point of most of the people around her being able to tell what she's feeling at any given point. during chapter 5 she notes that if her unhappiness is audible in her singing, then she just needs to try harder. both of them have different reactions to their own emotions, but they come to the same conclusion. if they appear unhappy and other people notice, then they need to try harder to mask that. they think this as young kids. so imagine that but perpetuated by themselves over several years. and that's how you get main story+ haruka and an! who's relationships with their emotions are even more questionable. because an is still open to talk about problems but adopts a "fuck it we ball" mindset with her own. then (as far as im aware) she hasn't voiced any of her fears regarding the future of vbs to them, because what she's afraid of mirrors what happened with nagi, taiga and her dad when she was a kid. light up the fire also happens but i haven't read that event.. and haruka likely ignored many of her 'negative' emotions during her idol work because they didn't fit in with her image. within mmj, regarding the person problems of the members, haruka (especially in the early events) tends to focus on getting rid of or ignoring the problem rather than dealing with it properly.
;; in the april fools cover haruka gets the line ""no one can oppose, so abide by your desires"", which is interesting because that is the opposite of what she does. she had to have an entire event dedicated to her to say "you're allowed to relax and enjoy yourself, you know that right?"
;; the next line both of them share between the vbs and april fools cover is the third and fourth lines in the chorus, describing how if you see your life as "incorrect" you can throw it away.
;; haruka can fit into this line in the sense that she threw her dream away because she felt she did something "incorrect" (failed to help and unintentionally hurt someone). knowing full well that it was what brought her lots of happiness. an, on the other hand, had someone else try to throw her dream away, because of something she was unaware of at the time, causing her to (at least for a period of time (??)) view the place she grew up in as cruel and "incorrect".
;; the next lyric is in the last chorus, which is about how believing in others blindly can lead them to bury their own beliefs in favour of others', and the singer(s) questioning that (??).
;; an, who was told by everyone around her that nagi was alive and well, and she believed them because she trusted them fully. only to learn that she wasn't, it was kept from her, and for her to question everything she knew about her home.
;; and haruka who listened to the people (one person) around her and buried a part of herself in an attempt to make them happy. because that's all she wanted to do. only for her to go between regretting that choice and fully believing it was the right thing to do.
;; LAST LYRIC!! about how the way people share certain ideals or lies as fact disillusions others.
;; an, was lied to for three years of her life, leading to her own disillusionment of everything she held dear.
;; haruka, who caused someone's disillusionment with something that brought them hope, who tried to stop someone else from finding out the truth so that they could keep their ideals in tact and who personally? was left with her own disillusionment because of her guilt!
;; so yeah, i think both of their devil's manner covers are banger. i love them <3
#the amount of times i just wanted to write “and haruka who is a dick!” because when referencing early mmj events - SHE IS.#i love her but dear miku?? its especially bad in more more xmas and back#<- i get why she was a jerk but off the top of my head she's the one minori tries the hardest to convince in more more xmas to let fans hel#sorry that was a side tangent#I LOVE HARUAN <3#also i was really making educated guesses on most of the stuff to do with an - the only event of hers ive read in full is vivid old tale..#i love her but i just keep forgetting to read her events.. :(#project sekai#haruka kiritani#an shiraishi#shiraishi an#kiritani haruka#haruan
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i fear my love for art history will be corrupted by my italian renaissance class
#i've had this professor before and i love her lectures but. she's started assigning so. much. work#like if i didn't take this class this semester would be easy but now it's barely bearable#so i'm an auditory learner and that's great and all for lecture#but this professor keeps assigning 30-40 page readings regularly in the tiniest little font and we have to write a 3-5 page essay on it#the essay is easy but the reading. i just can't do it. i forget everything it's about by the next day#but we have to read at least one super-long chapter each week and on top of that i'm technically supposed to be going to art events#outside of class time. but i'm not an art major and i can't be on campus that late so i'm just going to take some Fs for that ig#and we have a group project that consists of a reading an essay a second essay a powerpoint another paper and we have to present#which that is happening this friday so yayyyyy (boooooo)#and then we have a really big paper/project to do that i'm probably supposed to be working on but i have not#ughhhhhhhhhh yes i'm complaining i'm allowed to do that it's good for me even. but still#i had the slightest feeling that i should've dropped out a couple weeks in and i should have listened this class is a nightmare#and i actually love art history. i love the subject so so much. and i memorize things that i'm told. i could literally repeat her lectures#but the fucking textbook makes everything awful#i feel bad for my partner for the group assignment bc she's so on top of shit and i'm behind#though i kinda lucked out w my partner. she's like in her 40s or 50s and she looks at me like i'm a lost puppy and that is great for#working together ngl. it means that she's sympathetic and thinks she has to take the lead#usually i take the lead w group projects bc i'm that kind of person but i'm busy so i will let her be in charge#ok done complaining if u see me on here yell at me about my project
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hii!! can i request for the event?? had this weird little scenario where a little kid goes up to reader, completely in love and confessing their love (even tho reader doesnt know who this little kid is) and the op men just look at what's happening with either a "😬" or "😠" reaction. any characters for this scenario would work but if you could put zoro as part of the 3 that would be great
Child Crushes
Send me an event request!
Characters: fem reader x Zoro, Sanji, Shanks
Total word count: 600
Zoro
“You are so beautiful!” A child screamed, slamming into you and wrapping his arms around your midrift tightly. “I love you!”
“Hey!” Zoro shouted, reaching for the kid. “Get off her!”
“Zoro!” you chided, shielding the kid from your boyfriend's wrath. “It’s okay!”
“You are the most amazing lady I’ve ever seen! Your smile is radiant, and you are kinder than anyone I’ve ever met!”
You laughed, slowly prying the kid off of you. You were about to bend down to talk to him, but Zoro beat you to it.
“Listen brat,” he hissed. “Go find another beautiful lady! This one is mine.”
The kid stuck his tongue at Zoro. “If you keep being so mean, she’ll leave you for a real man like me!”
“What did you-!”
“Zoro, stop!” you giggled, pulling him away. You looked back at the little boy, giving him a wink. “It was nice to meet you!”
“I’ll see you soon, lovely lady!”
You intertwined your arm with Zoro’s again, laughing at his outburst. “Wanna tell me what that was about?”
“He reminded me of that stupid cook,” Zoro groaned. “Besides, that kid needs to buzz off. You’re already taken.”
Sanji
“Excuse me miss,” a small voice came from behind you, and you turned around.
He was young. Probably around 6 or 7, with caramel brown hair and clear blue eyes.
“Hi there,” you said, breaking away from Sanji’s hold so you could squat down so you were at eye level with him.
“I just wanted to tell you are the most beautiful woman alive.” He held out a wildflower with small white petals. “Will you marry me?”
You giggled at his request. His bluntness reminded you of someone else you knew.
“I’m flattered. How about you come find me when you’re older?” you challenged.
He pushed the flower into your hands. “I will. I’ll never forget you! Until then, here’s something to remember me by!”
He took off, his cheeks pink with embarrassment. You laughed and stood up, your hand returning to Sanji’s.
“You have competition,” you teased.
Sanji hummed pleasantly, placing a soft kiss on your cheek. “He has good taste in women. Can’t argue with that.”
Shanks
You unfolded the note the little boy had given you and read the scribbles across the paper.
Please make my day and kiss me. You are so beautiful and kind. I love you.
Shanks peered over your shoulder, looking at the note, and burst out into laughter.
“Shanks!” you scolded under your breath. “Don’t laugh!”
“Look kid, only a real man gets to kiss this lady.” He planted a messy kiss on your cheek to prove his point.
The kid looked at you and him, and then ran off.
“Shanks!”
“He’ll be back, don’t worry.”
Shanks was right. A few hours later, the kid was standing at the end of the bar, peeking out and watching you from afar.
“You wanna impress her?” Shanks asked, creeping up behind the boy. “Give her a rose and ask her for a kiss. To her face. Like a man.”
“Will that work?” the boy whispered, glancing back at you nervously.
“That’s how I got her to kiss me,” he admitted. “Good news for you, I even have a spare rose.”
The little boy walked up to you, his knees visibly shaking as he gripped the rose in his hands.
“I got this for you,” he said softly. “Will you kiss me?”
Your eyes darted to Shanks, a smile dancing across your lips.
“Thank you,” you said, taking the flower from him and giving him a small peck on the cheek. “I’d be honored to kiss such a polite young man.”
#one piece#one piece imagine#one piece scenario#one piece x reader#one piece x you#zoro#roronoa zoro#zoro x reader#zoro x you#sanji#vinsmoke sanji#black leg sanji#sanji x reader#sanji x you#shanks#red haired shanks#shanks x reader#shanks x you#shanks x y/n#cozage#✧˚zoro✧˚#✧˚sanji✧˚#✧˚shanks✧˚
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Come to Bed
Summary: based on this request - a text from Azriel was meant to go to you, but went to his entire family instead.
Author’s note: I loved this idea this was so fun and definitely very on brand for the inner circle tbh
Az: Come to bed :(
It was a short message. Azriel had been sick for two days now, and since meeting you, he can’t remember how he’d just go on during his sick days.
He used to go to work just fine while sick. He’d wear a mask and keep his distance, but he’d be able to go no problem.
But ever since you came into his life, now he was too spoiled when he was sick to go anywhere or do anything. You had insisted that your cuddles would heal him, along with the various soups you made him eat every day.
Honestly? It was a little awesome. If it weren’t for how shitty he felt, that is. You rubbed his back until he fell asleep, whenever he got up to shower you washed his sheets, and you brought him medicine every few hours. He didn’t have to lift a finger, and he was soaking in every moment of your attention.
But now you were downstairs, talking with Elain about something or another. You had told him what for before you left, but his feverish haze had made him forget. He woke up alone, having dozed off in your absence, and all he wanted was you to come back. He had just texted you to come back to bed when his door creak opens.
Azriel pops his head out of the nest he made to find Cassian crawling up his bed on top of the covers, wrapping his arms around Azriel, and spooning him over the covers.
Azriel coughs, “what are you doing here?”
“You asked for me to come to bed.”
Azriel’s head hurts trying to figure out what he means when his door opens once more to Rhysand strolling through the room, lying on Az’s other side.
“Ah, come on Azzy. It’s just like when we were younger,” Cassian tells him, his body heat helping with the chills taking over Azriel’s body.
Azriel sniffles, “we were like eight years old.”
“Well, Cassian hasn’t matured much since then,” Rhysand chimes in, staying on the bed but not too close to Az. He’ll provide some level of comfort with his presence, but he’ll be damned if he lets his brother get him sick.
“Why are you two here?” Azriel croaks, every word hurting his poor throat.
Rhys opens his phone to show him the family groupchat they had, the last message coming from Azriel saying, “Come to bed :(“
Azriel groans reading it, “I’m sure you could guess I sent it to the wrong person.”
Cassian chuckles, causing vibrations through Azriel’s back. He’s too weak to fight Cassian off of him, and the weight of him actually feels nice. Maybe Cassian would make a great weighted blanket after all.
“I never second guess any texts I receive. I assumed you missed me, it has been days since you’ve seen my glorious face.”
Cassian and Azriel continue bickering while Rhysand watches in amusement.
Mor comes in shortly after, bringing a warm cup of tea for both herself and Azriel, handing one mug to him while lounging across the foot of the bed. The tea soothes his throat, and he hates to admit it, but he does appreciate the presence of his family. He had been quarantined for days, trying to keep to his room as much as possible. He had grown quite accustomed to his big, invasive family. Your company was more than enough, but he did miss Cassian’s daily debriefs of his day.
Feyre comes in, taking residence next to Mor, as Cassian tells them all ridiculous versions of how he managed to destroy that building in the Summer Court. Each tale more ridiculous than the last, with Feyre even adding her own absurd version of events.
“I heard that a dragon flew in and Cassian fought it off with his bare hands and the only damage was that one building!”
Their laughter rings in Az’s ears as he closes his eyes, dozing, but not truly asleep.
You were shocked walking back to Az’s bedroom to find both of his brothers, Feyre, and Mor all lounging in bed with him. Azriel perks up at your figure in the doorway, somehow knowing you were there despite his resting state. His voice crackles from his sore throat, “save me?”
You walk in, squeezing yourself between Rhys and Azriel, and your boyfriend melts in your arms, falling asleep quickly as his family still chatters around you.
The next time Azriel wakes up, it’s dark outside, but he’s still cuddled to your chest.
“Hi sweetheart,” you tell him, setting your book down. He practically purrs at you running your hand through his hair.
“Sleep well?”
He presses his face back into your chest. “I would have slept better if they weren’t all annoying.”
You laugh, leaning over to kiss the crown of his head.
“Poor baby with a loving family,” you coo, and he huffs.
“They’re not loving, they’re annoying busybodies. Except Feyre. She hasn’t gotten that bad yet.”
You smile, untangling his hair with your fingers.
“They might be annoying busybodies, but they love you and you love them.”
He squeezes you a little tighter. “I’m sick. I only have so much love to give and it’s all going towards you.”
You laugh, your hand moving down to stroke his back. He relaxes in your embrace, your fingers soothing his clammy skin.
“Okay, you can wait until you’re feeling better to love them again.”
“Deal,” he tells you, eyes growing heavy once more. “Just - don’t tell Cassian. He’ll get upset.”
#acotar fanfiction#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel fanfic#azriel fluff#acotar writing#azriel x y/n
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virgin!choso ✮| headcannons
chosoxfem!reader
MDNI -> warnings: afab reader (but anyone can read yk), virginchoso! (cherry popping /losing his viginity), smoking weed, making out, blowjobs, jerking off, mastubation, voyeurism, kinda dom reader (teasing choso), reader and choso fight for dominacr basically,face sitting, pussy licking, cowgirl, crying from pleasure, accidentaly creampie (choso cums inside of her by accident lol. please practice safe sex!)
a/n: thank you so much for the support on my last headcannon :((( i love yall so much pls enjoy virgin!choso (i love him so much i have brainrot)
virgin!choso who takes responsibility, as an older brother to house yuuji. this also means that he also is responsible for yuji's friends whenever they come over.
virgin!choso who said yes when his younger brother asked if he could host a movie night at the house. he relunctantly says yes.
virgin!choso like the good brother he is, accompanies yuji when he goes out to buy snacks and drinks for the event later in the evening. choso sneaks out of the store to buy some weed so he can just relax when he locks himself in his room later.
virgin!choso who waits until all of yuji's friends arrive, sitting on the couch and waving as megumi, nobara and junpei walk through the door.
virgin!choso who cant stop staring at you when you walk in. yuji greets you with a hug and the smile that is displayed across your face makes choso blush unexpectedly. (nobara saw it but kept it to herself)
virgin!choso who gets even more flustered when you sit right next him. you smell like strawberry and vanilla and oh, how he wishes he could just keep sitting next to you. youre intoxicating.
virgin!choso who quickly realizes that he's attracted to his younger brother's friend so he quickly removes himself from the group and escapes up the stairs, making sure the door to his room is locked.
virgin!choso who takes out a preroll, lights it and inhales the smoke, letting the creeping sensation of the weed take effect.
virgin!choso who lies down on his bed and closes his eyes. unfortuntaly, he hasnt recovered from you yet so again, his face starts to redden.
virgin!choso who takes a few more hits of the joint to take his mind off you but you are a hard thing to forget. he remembers the way you smile and the way you introduced yourself to him but he could hardly remember anything you had said since all he was focusing on was the shape of your lips. how pouty they were, how glossy they were.
virgin!choso who remembers what youre wearing. it was a simple tanktop but he could see the corners of your bra peaking out from the top. something that had choso's mind racing with not-so-innocent thoughts.
virgin!choso who re-imagines your lips joined with his, making out passionately. he then imagines your lips on his cock. how would they look if your tongue was swirling around his tip as well?
virgin!choso who can feel his cock strain against his boxers. its a tightness he cannot ignore. he pulls down his sweatpants to reveal the large buldge under it."fuck." he mutters under his breath. he sucks his teeth in while removing his boxers. his thick cock springs free, slapping his stomach. choso watches as the senstive, pink tip leaks a clear fluid.
virgin!choso who lightly grasps his cock, stroking it slowly. he's panting steadily as he imagines how your hand would feel around him. he groans quietly.
virgin!choso who's thoughts get even dirtier, stroking faster as he visualizes your warm cunt surrounding him. he sees you on top of him, bouncing on his length as your soft tits bounce with the rhythm. at this point, he's forgetten about the group downstairs. he's moaning like a bitch, gasping at the feeling of ecstasy.
virgin!choso who is unable to recognize that you are right against the other side his door, feeling a puddle of warmth pool in your panties. you were supposed to just grab something from yuji's room and come back downstairs however, you couldnt ignore the loud moaning from his older brother's room.
you slowly slip your hand down your jeans. your cold hands interacting with your sex makes you gasp as you circle your sensitive clit. you hide your moans through strained breathing. "mmmhf..." you accidentally let out, hoping the man on the other side of the door didnt hear you.
virgin!choso who hears a muffled sound at his door. it startles him, letting go of his hard on.
virgin!choso who quickly pulls up his boxers and sweatpants before unlocking his door to see you, red in the face with eyes watering. he scans his eyes down your figure to see your hand in your pants. you quickly remove it.
virgin!choso who looks at you in surprise before asking. "did you hear me?" he blushes when you nod.
"im sorr-" you try to get out before he interrupts you by pulling your free hand towards his room. he locks the door behind you.
youre frozen in place, not knowing if the man in front of you would confront you about the situation.
instead, he leans towards you, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment .“do you need…help?” he whispers. you look up at him in surprise.
virgin!choso’s eyes widen when you nod, before kissing him gently. he can feel your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him in to deepen the kiss. he could feel his overly sensitive cock rub against the fabric of his boxers, making him groan into the kiss.
virgin!choso falls back onto his bed as a result of you pushing him. the kiss was sloppy and spit dripped down your chins. he can tell you were enjoying it, grinding against his hard-on. you finally let go of the kiss before hastily removing your jeans and underwear.
you get on top of him, displaying your sopping cunt to his face. choso's mouth is watering and he couldnt wait any longer to taste you so he grabs your waist and pushes you onto his face, causing you to yelp.
"angghh!" his tongue is doing wonders. he slowly and sensually laps up the juices dripping from your entrance, groaning in delight. his shaky hands dont leave your waist, only pushing down harder so you cant escape him.
virgin!choso who is glad he's watched enough porn to know how to eat someone out. now he gets to reap the rewards by watching you squirm on top of him. he removes his grip from your waist to lift up your tank top and bra to reveal your cold nipples.
virgin!choso who circles your buds lovingly, making you jump at the sensation. you cream on his tongue immedietly after.
"fuck fuck fuck!" you whisper to yourself, trying to keep yourself from being too loud.
you breathe heavily as you calm down from your first orgasm, choso still softly licking up your essence. you remove yourself from his mouth, before moving down to hover over his crotch area. the flustered man props himself up, feeling your warmth of your heat through his sweatpants.
virgin!choso who hastily removes his sweatpants and boxers, revealing his thick length. you smile at how vulnerable he looks under you. his face red as a cherry and pouty expression.
virgin!choso who's eyes widen when you grab his length and rub the tip against your clit. he quickly grabs your arm, exclaiming that he's a virgin. hearing that information makes you smile.
"awee..." you coo. "considering how well you tongue fucked me, i woulda thought that you mightve had some experience..but i guess not." you whisper in his ear, biting at the cartilidge lightly. he whimpers submissively.
"its okay baby, ill be gentle. maybe if you beg enough ill let you cum inside." winking at choso before slowly pushing him inside you.
virgin!choso who cries in pleasure when he finally feels you. your walls are pulsing tight and it takes you a few seconds to fully engluf him in your heat. you, on the other hand were trying to get used to how big and girthy he is. sure, you may have done it once or twice, but choso's cock was stretching you beyond your limits. you cover your mouth as you sink further down his shaft all the way to the hilt.
virgin!choso who has to regulate his breathing in order to focus on the task at hand. his shaky hands grab your waist once more before sharing eye contact with you. he gets the 'okay' nod from you and starts to thrust his hips up.
virgin!choso who moans with you as you wrap your arms around him and kiss him once again. its a desperate kiss, filled with gasps and saliva, but to him, its insatiating. there could be nothing better in this world but this.
virgin!choso who releases from the kiss to adore your body even more. he moves his hands down from your waist to your ass, gripping at the soft fat, all while sucking on your tits.
virgin!choso who swirls his tongue against your buds, looking up at you to watch your face contort.
"i thought..hah...I thought you said you were a virgin..." you comment, eyes closed as you continue to bounce on him.
"i was..ngh" choso pants, removing his mouth from your tits. "till you came..fuck!" he fucks into you wildly. feeling your slick drip down his shaft and balls.
"mhmmf!!" you whimper as he hits your sweet spot. he smiles slowly, enjoying the way you tried to assert dominance before but now you're moaning like a slut on top of him.
virgin!choso who flips you onto your back, snapping his hips back into you, eager to reach his high.
"please..pleaspleasplease..." he whines like a broken record. "m so close....please let me cum." he feels the knot in his stomach tighten.
you look at him with fluttering eyes. "not yet."
virgin!choso who whines even louder as he plunges his cock deeper inside you, making you scream.
"please baby please..." he mumbles, his face buried in your neck. "ill do anything please let me cum..."
you grin, feeling his pace get less rhythmic and more sporadic. you carress his hair, whispering in his ear to let it all go.
virgin!choso who sobs out as he cums inside you, pumping his hips to let all of his creamy seed bed inside of you. you hum as you feel your womb get flooded, locking your legs so he wouldnt pull out.
virgin!choso who almost passes out while softening inside you. he feels your hand stroke his hair, calming him down. you scan his face, noticing tears clumped along his lashline.
virgin!choso’s heart beats wildly when you wipe his tear stained cheeks, looking at him with your fucked out expression.
virgin!choso who pulls out and watches his cum drool out of you. you watch his reaction and you can swear little hearts form in his eyes.
virgin!choso who brings a towel to you, wiping up the mess the two of you created between your thighs. you kiss him on the cheek as he cleans you up.
virgin!choso who is unaware that you have also fallen for him <33
#jujutsu kaisen#choso smut#choso kamo x reader#jjk choso#choso kamo#jujutsu kaisen choso#choso x reader#choso x you#choso x female reader#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu choso#i love choso#jjk smut#jjk
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✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter five)
pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader
warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder/violence mention (but no actual murder) , MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, lots of switching between dom/sub dynamics, oral sex, thigh riding, face sitting, degradation, dirty talk, edging/orgasm denial, roughhousing, eventual piv, one chapter specific dubcon scene (pls tell me if i forgot anything!)
chapter: 5/6
words: um. 9.5k (sorry? but also you're welcome??)
chapter warnings: this chapter contains a scene that falls solidly into dubcon territory, so please proceed with caution, stay safe out there.
moodboards
series masterlist
a/n: WELL. here we are, almost at the end of our little rollercoaster ride. i've lost brain cells over this chapter, almost cut it up into smaller chunks, but ended up leaving it as long as i originally planned (longer, in fact. whoops). as always, feedback is very welcome + encouraged (i love hearing/reading your thoughts as things progress) buckle up, please do take note of the dubcon warning, prepare for the angst, and most importantly, enjoy!
i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.
He was back to ignoring you again.
But this time, the feeling was mutual. You’d never felt as thoroughly rejected as you did the night he had you walk back to your room, legs weak, wrapped in nothing but his shirt.
Once upon a time, this scenario would have been one you dreamed of, but reality often falls flat on its face. You wouldn’t have dreamt of walking away from him like this if you’d known it would feel this empty.
Humiliation ran rampant through your body, starting with the tears you blinked away as you left his room, closing the door behind you, and then flooding over as you stepped into your own room, slumping on the bed, curling up into yourself and weeping, pressing your still aching legs together but too upset to finish yourself off.
You kicked yourself for getting carried away, for getting too loud, too possessive with his face between your thighs and your hand in his hair. For getting so caught up in the moment, briefly forgetting your games, and for believing even for a second that you would be on the same page.
This push and pull had begun to wear you thin, and you were tired. So, you slept. Until nearly midday the next morning, when Lucille knocked on your door to remind you it was time for your monthly PR debrief.
The good news, though arguable at this point, was that your arrangement hadn’t been affected by recent events. At least, not on paper. Cordelia ran you through each gala, public appearance, and dinner, barely noticing your preoccupation, rambling on about speeches, coordinating outfits, dates and times of events, what to say and how to say it.
For you - and you could only imagine, Coriolanus too - everything had changed over the span of a month.
Your shame made you abnormally quiet, head hung low, gaze averted, nodding along as Cordelia prompted either a response or approval from you. Snow just stared, glancing at her only when completely necessary, but otherwise, he didn’t take his eyes off you.
He was enjoying this. The sick fuck. You were glad when the meeting ended and you could scamper into the library, eager to lose yourself in a story of any kind other than the one you were living.
This went on. By day, you barely looked at him; by night, you tried over and over to prove that your own fingers were enough to keep you satisfied. To convince yourself that you just wanted him, you didn’t need him.
Because if you needed him, then he called the shots. He would win. And victorious as he may seem, the game wasn’t over yet. You’d slipped up in a moment of vulnerability, he’d tricked you into a corner just to prove his point.
You wanted him, you didn’t need him. But if you did… well.
He was going to have to need you more.
You held back this time. Keeping your cards safe, close to your chest. In a strange way, you found a kind of solace in your arrangement. Recent events had caused it to feel unstable, breakable even, but the meeting had ensured that it was all still on the right track. It allowed you to take a small piece of what you wanted from him without guilt or repercussions. After all, it was planned out to benefit you both. Then, when you were ready, and with a gentle hand, you began to weaponise it, loading it up in the barrel of a gun aimed directly at Snow.
You didn't have much left, but you had this. You knew where your promiscuity had led you. This time, you wanted to pull on his heart strings. Make him feel remorse, or whatever similar emotion he was capable of. Make him soften to you. Torture him with almosts that were never enough.
So when you took, you took cautiously, tentatively. You deepened your usually light kisses to what was just past socially acceptable, only to pull back when Snow began to lean in, turning away and smiling at the people surrounding you, or full-on entering into conversation with somebody else. You'd brush your thumb against his when you held hands, waiting for him to look at you, drawing your hand away when he did. You'd offer smiles to everyone but him, talk and laugh a little louder when you could feel him watching.
You pretended he didn’t exist. You could feel him begin to simmer. It wasn't as brazen as your usual game, but it was working.
Until it wasn’t.
“Something’s wrong, what is it?”
Lucille’s face dropped, her shaking hands lowering from the zip she was struggling with. You were getting ready for a luncheon, and you’d picked out an emerald green dress, one of your favorites for daytime events.
“I’d hoped you wouldn’t notice, ma’am. I apologise. It’s my brother, he… it’s getting worse again.”
“Sit down for a second. Talk to me. What’s going on?”
You listened to Lucille open up uncomfortably, visibly nervous that you would offer your financial support as you’d done before. But you didn’t, sparing her from having to turn you down.
Lucille was stubborn - she would never accept your charity. She was more than happy to work for her wages, and frequently worked longer hours. As months went by, you’d brought her pay up as high as you could without her noticing. But now things were getting more critical, and you knew there was only one thing you could do.
“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Go and see your brother.”
“But you’re not dressed-”
“I’ll take care of it. Go home, Lucille. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
She smiled softly.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
You’d tried with the zip, you really had. You didn’t want to have to knock on Snow’s office door with two favors to ask instead of one, but the dress was tight and the zip kept getting jammed. So, there you stood, dress half undone at the back, heart in your throat. You counted your blessings; at least it wasn’t his bedroom. You didn’t think you could face him at all in there. You heard typing from inside.
“Come in.”
You pushed the door open, feeling like an intruder.
“Sorry, I just… Could you help me with this?” Your hand tightened behind your back, holding the dress together.
He narrowed his eyes. He was already in his suit, typewriter on the desk in front of him.
“Lucille forget how to do her job?”
“I don’t need snide right now. Please, Coriolanus? I’ll explain when I’m not half naked. It’s drafty in here.”
You tried to make it clear in your tone that this wasn’t some ploy. You weren’t sure you had many of those left to offer.
“Fine.” He sighed, and stood, making no motion towards you, so you crossed the room, gripping onto the fabric, turning your back to him.
His hand came to rest on your waist as the other took the zipper, and you tried not to flinch at his touch. You pressed your lips together as he carefully zipped you up, cold metal sending a chill down your spine. Or maybe that was just him. You felt your eyes slide shut and your lips part as his hand lingered on your waist. You couldn’t hear anything but your heartbeat and the tick of his grandfather clock.
“Is that okay? Not too tight?” His breath on your neck gave you goosebumps, you hoped desperately that he wouldn’t notice.
“No, it’s perfect. Thank you.”
The second his hand fell from your waist, you missed it. You carefully met his eye; he was looking at you like you had something he wanted.
So why hadn’t he wanted you? You’d been right there, and he’d turned you down.
He cleared his throat.
“I should finish this letter before we leave. Was there anything else?”
You paused.
“Actually, there is. Could I ask you a favor?” You glanced off to the side, suddenly very interested in the knots of wood on his desk. What helped was that you'd never seen inside this room before, and you hid behind your curiosity like it was a lifeline.
“What is it?”
“It’s…” you lowered your voice, “it’s about Lucille. Her brother, actually. He’s in the hospital again. The family can’t afford the medical bills to keep him in for as long as he needs. I’d like to foot the bill, but I can’t do it anonymously. I thought… well, I was wondering if you could pull a few strings.”
You were overexplaining, something you weren’t at all used to doing, but these days, just being in the same room as him made you nervous. You stared at his desk, at the lack of photographs on it, the single pen laying to the side, the smoothness of the glaze.
It was quiet for a moment.
“Consider it done.”
You looked up.
“Really?”
“Did you think I’d say no?” He asked.
“I- no, but…”
“It’s something that matters to you.”
You blinked, dumbfounded at how simply he put it.
“Yes. It is. Thank you, Coriolanus.”
“Don’t mention it. I’ll make sure it’s anonymous.”
“Thank you. Or, I mean…”
He looked at you, and you wanted to melt. Wanted to throw strategy out the window, god, but -
You couldn’t. It hadn’t worked last time. You’d hoped to avoid a stalemate, but here you were, sat right in the middle of one.
“The car’s coming in a half hour. Are you almost ready?” He asked.
“Yes. Almost.”
The luncheon was going well, at first. You were at the head of a large table, sat beside Snow, straightening your salad fork as he stood up to make a speech. You’d been glancing at him throughout the afternoon; it wasn’t so hard to anymore. It felt like his willingness to help Lucille without question, just because it was what you wanted, had more of an effect on you in five minutes than the entire week of your teasing had on him. One conversation, and the tides had changed.
As he began talking, you started to realise that your gentler approach may have been affecting you more than it had him. The party was transfixed; people loved to hear him talk, and you were proud. He had a certain way with words; you knew better than anyone. You’d fallen victim to them.
You weren’t sure why his words affected you – you’d been there, you’d agreed when Cordelia had suggested he say something nice about you in this particular speech, really make the crowd swoon, lay it on thick - but when he started to talk about you, about how proud he was to have you by his side, how strong you were-
You knew he was just reciting a script written for him, but you couldn’t help it. The tears began to quietly fall. You thanked whatever higher being was listening for not letting anyone notice.
Or so you thought.
It was just typical that out of all the people that could’ve noticed, the one person who knew better was the only one who did.
The rest of them would’ve brushed it off as you simply being moved by emotion, honored by his kind words. You blinked away your tears, taking small, polite sips of your wine. It was painful because you knew it wasn’t true. None of it was, you knew he could never say those words and mean them.
And he knew that too.
It was dark when you got home, and you trailed behind him awkwardly on your way upstairs.
“Can I have a word?” his voice was gentle, and it set you on edge.
“Sure.”
You stood awkwardly in the hallway, then he led you into the office. He leaned against his desk, and you shifted your feet where you stood, eyes on the floor, on the art on the walls, on anything other than him.
“You were upset today.” He started.
You swallowed.
“It won’t happen again, I promise.” you kept your voice steady. He paused.
“If that was my fault, I apologise. If I took it too far, if I upset you-”
You weren’t sure which part he was talking about, but you finally looked at him in a sort of distant defiance.
“Do you even care if I’m upset?”
“Of course I do. Especially when it’s something that affects you… publicly.”
You huffed, forcing yourself to stare him down.
“Because that’s all that matters, right? What the public sees?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Sure it is. It’s okay, Snow. I’m a big girl. And I can take a hint, too. So don’t worry about me, I’ll be just fine. Business as usual, right?”
He just stared, puzzled. You took a breath.
“Look, it’s been a long day. Can I go, or are you going to keep me here all night?”
The silence was like smoke, clouding between you. His brow furrowed, calculating. Then he sighed, long and heavy, and you tried not to let it phase you.
“Fine. Go.”
You nodded.
“Goodnight.”
You’d never been more relieved to get away from him. Your broken walls were starting to build back up. You wouldn’t let him break you, you couldn’t. You were stronger than this.
That night, for the first time, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was truly what you wanted.
“Darling, you look ravishing.” Lilian drawled. “It’s a pity Snow is so far across the room, and can’t appreciate you. If I dressed half as nicely as you did, perhaps my dear husband wouldn’t be screwing the maid.”
A scandalised chorus of giggles erupted from the group. It was a pretty dress, one of your best. Long and smooth black fabric, ruched at the waist, with a deep cut up the leg that was just acceptable for an evening gala. You stood tall, champagne glass in hand, gossiping with your friends.
Well.
Friends was being generous. You kept few true friends, and they would hardly be gossiping in a circle like this.
Acquaintances was a better fit. Pawns if you were being brutally honest. Politicians’ wives, senators’ mistresses, a chancellor’s daughter or two. Pieces of chess, really, in this bigger game. Anyone who could help you climb higher, whisper carefully spun words into open ears at your whim.
“I just know George would rip that dress off me the moment I got home. He might not even be able to wait, and just pull me into a closet here instead.”
Another eruption of giggles.
“Well, I’m flattered, my darlings.” You smiled. “This is one of my favorites. Coriolanus treats me well.”
“I’m sure he does,” a suggestive glance from Lilian, “in all the ways one would expect, I assume?”
You gasped in mock modesty.
“Lilian,” you drawled, “I certainly hope you’re not suggesting I disclose our-”
“Oh, just tell us dear, please. We’re all dying to know. You’re always so coy about it. What’s he like?”
You pulled your lips into a knowing smile, your perfectly painted face helping you slide into this facade. You scanned your eyes across the ballroom, across to Snow. He stood talking to a group of men, colleagues of his. You recognised their faces.
It had been four days since the luncheon. Four days since your outburst. Four days of hiding away. You’d been dreading tonight’s gala, but it gave you an excuse to dress nicely, and as soon as you’d arrived, you and Coriolanus has gone your separate ways.
“Well,” you hummed, masking your uncertainty as anticipation, “he can be a slight tease.”
A few dramatic gasps sounded through the group, and you turned back to face them, their eyes wide and expectant.
“Salacious. Do tell.” Another voice piped up with a giggle.
“He can be fun to toy with. I do enjoy pushing back, but sometimes he takes it… a little far.” You said carefully.
“My, who would have known? But you get what you want, my dear, surely.” Lilian asked.
You smiled, glancing back at him, suit pristine with a white rose in his breast pocket. You hated how good he looked. He was smiling politely at the group of men around him, but you could tell from the tick in his jaw that something was bothering him.
“Sometimes, I do. Others, I wait for my chance to push his buttons right back.”
“Oh, but where’s the fun in that? I don’t suppose,” she pressed, “that you’re in one of those… entanglements at the moment?”
“Lilian, darling, you know I don’t kiss and tell.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Another giggle sounded from the group.
“Oh, my.” Lilian repeated, glancing between the two of you. “I do hope you’ve been making him suffer.”
“Well, I’m playing a longer game this time, so I’m afraid there hasn’t been as much fun lately.”
Lilian sucked in a breath, like the perfect idea had just dawned on her.
“Well, I see no moment like the present. You’re here, you’re dressed marvellously, I propose you walk right over there and show him just what he’s missing.”
A chorus of yes and do it and we’ll cheer you ons rang out. Loosened by the champagne, you looked across the room at him again. You could do it. He wouldn’t be able to react, it would be the most perfect torture. You suddenly decided that you were done making small moves, done playing it safe like this was some schoolgirl crush. It was time to step up to the mark again. Take your power back.
Your group could sense the newfound determination in you. You smiled, slow and cunning.
Show him what he’s missing.
Simple. It’s what you did best.
“Watch and learn, ladies.”
A hush fell over the group as they watched you run a hand through your hair, handed your glass to one of them, and pressed your lips together. Before you’d left the house you’d added a swipe of red lipstick, dark red, almost bloodlike. It always made you feel more confident and tonight, you needed the pick me up.
The middle of the ballroom was practically empty; the dancing was over, and everyone had long since gathered in groups to the sides. So you turned heads when you stepped out, the only one on the floor, black satin hugging your frame like a second skin. You didn’t look at them, you made a steady beeline to Snow. You felt more and more eyes on you as you crossed the room, heels clicking on the floor. They all watched, waiting for… something. Coriolanus didn’t look up until you were a mere few steps away, now deep in some conversation he was going to forget very shortly.
Blue eyes flashed to yours with a confused apprehension, but you didn’t give yourself time to think about the twitch of his brow, or the looks on the faces of his colleagues. You didn’t think about the way he opened his mouth as if to say something, only for it to be swallowed away.
You didn’t think about any of that.
Because your lips were on his.
Hot and hungry, teeth clashing, your hand grabbing the back of his neck as he leaned in, surprised at first, then warm, wanting. Lips tugging at yours like he was starving.
It was sinful.
You’d never been kissed like this before. Your fuzzy brain wondered how you’d gone through life not knowing what this felt like, the press of his lips devouring yours, heated and messy.
He kissed you like breathing, like you were his oxygen supply. His hand slid to your waist and pulled you in, and you heard the echoes of chuckling coming from around you, morphing into a few light claps.
Then, just as you felt him fully melt into you, your hand slipped higher to the nape of his neck, grabbing a fistful of perfect platinum curls, and tugged.
It was nothing but an affectionate display to the people surrounding you, but a brazen reminder between the two of you. It was your way of showing you hadn’t forgotten, that you wouldn’t be made to feel ashamed, to cower in a corner while he got the better of you.
Not in this lifetime.
The second it happened, his breath hitched, and his hand tensed on your waist. You were the only one who caught it, getting high off the satisfaction, finally pulling away.
You weren’t sure you’d ever seen a prettier sight; his blown-out eyes, his face stained with scarlet.
How’s that for tasting your own medicine.
Watching him attempt to collect himself was sweeter still. Watching him reset his face into one of distant amusement. He let out a small laugh, glanced at the rest of the party.
“Everything alright, doll? Had a little much champagne, perhaps?”
His colleagues chuckled, but you didn’t look their way. You stood your ground. Offered a sweet smile, but he could see your slyness.
“Oh, I’m swell. And I think I’ve had just enough, actually. I’m gonna go freshen up.”
You turned on your heel and made your way through winding halls to the bathroom, riding an adrenaline high. You picked up a glass from a server’s tray along the way – the champagne had dried out, all they were serving now was posca, which while disgusting, worked a treat to take the edge off. It wasn’t long before the door swung open and you saw Coriolanus appear behind you in the mirror.
“This is the ladies’ room, handsome.” You looked away, continuing to reapply your lipstick.
He stepped closer.
“What was that kiss about, sweetheart?” Straight to the point.
“Nothing.” You shrugged.
“Didn’t feel like nothing.”
“That’s called acting, Snow.” You rolled your eyes, vaguely aware that your words sounded a little jumbled. You put the tube of lipstick away. “We had an audience. A rather expectant one at that.”
He folded his arms.
“I don’t like it when you catch me off guard like that. Not with people around.”
“Seemed to like it plenty to me.” You mumbled.
He didn’t answer, pacing past you to the other sink, grabbing a towel and wiping it against his face, where the red had stained his skin. It only served to spread it around further, and if you weren’t already smugly entertained by the marks you’d left on him, now it was just plain funny.
He glared at you when you laughed.
“Don’t give me that look. Here,” you offered, stepping across to him, taking the towel and wetting it, “let me.”
You wiped at a patch, but he snatched the towel back and took over.
“No, you’re rubbing it too hard. It’s-” he glowered at you – “fine. Do it your way.”
You went back to lean against your sink and took another sip of posca, admiring the ornate decorations in the room. A little excessive, a little new money for your tastes.
There was a rap on the door.
“President Snow?”
“Just a minute.” He said coolly.
“You’re in a mood tonight.” You remarked, and he huffed.
“Running a country can get exhausting. Don’t expect you to understand.”
“Right.” You said flatly. “Because I’m just a brainless pawn like everybody else.”
He looked over at you, at the drink in your hand.
“How many of those have you had?”
You shrugged again, and he tossed the towel into the sink, walking over to you.
“Answer me.” His voice was stern, and for a second, you soaked it in, drenched in the danger as he approached, closing in. Your tongue slipped out to wet your lips, and your eyes followed his as he moved to stand in front of you.
“Shame you don’t have someone to let all that frustration out on, isn’t it? Sounds like that could be helpful.”
His eyes pierced yours.
“Doll-”
“I’m just saying, it’s a pity you don’t.” You moved to bring the glass to your lips, anticipating the burn in your throat, but he gently stopped your hand.
“Okay, that’s enough.”
“Posca? It’s my first glass.” You smiled, eyes batting.
“You know what I mean. I think you should stop.”
You looked at the glass, then back at him, and pried your hand away, slowly and pointedly taking another sip.
“Sweetheart.” He warned.
“What, are you punish me? Gonna make me beg for you then kick me out again? Already did that once.”
He gave an incredulous half-laugh.
“That’s what this is about? You’re not really going to be mad about that forever, are you?”
“That depends. How long is forever?”
The door knocked again, and he worked the glass out of your hand.
“Drink some water. Sober up. We’ll talk about this when we get home.”
You sighed, heading for the door, but glanced back at him, his face still a stained mess. You brushed a finger against your own cheek to mirror his.
“You missed a spot.”
You sat in silence in his office, feeling a little like a schoolchild caught misbehaving. His typing was the only sound in the room. The seat was low; almost as if it was there to point out his authority over anyone who sat in it. Knowing him, it probably was.
He’d managed to clean off the rest of your lipstick, but his face looked rubbed raw, uncomfortable. A tall glass of water sat on the desk in front of you.
“Thought you said we’d talk.”
“Not until you finish that glass. I’m not talking to you inebriated.”
“Seriously?”
He shot you a look from behind his typewriter.
“Fine. Whatever.” You reached for it and took a few sips. He looked back down again. A few folders cluttered the desk, and in your boredom, your eyes scanned them. They looked complicated; legal.
“What are you writing there anyway? Or am I too dumb to understand?”
He offered another unimpressed glance.
“It’s a new bill I’m trying to pass. Except apparently, I’m the only one around here with their head screwed on enough to work on it.”
You waited as Snow pushed the typewriter’s lever, carriage sliding the page as he began writing the next line. You sipped your water.
He sighed. “One day I won’t have to mingle with these idiots anymore. They’ll just listen to me, and obey.”
You took that in.
“Do you feel that way about me?”
He studied you for a second, and stopped typing.
“No. Not really.”
“But you wish I’d be more… compliant.” You stared at the floor.
“Not necessarily.”
“You sure? Didn’t seem to like it the other night.”
His eyes narrowed. Knowing this conversation was a game of chess like any other. But lately the stakes were higher than ever.
“Never said I didn’t like it. Just that you were out of line.”
“And where is that fucking line?” You snapped. “I’m serious, Snow, because we’ve never talked about it.”
“You want to talk, all of a sudden? Okay, sweetheart. Fire away.”
You put the glass down on the table, heavier than intended.
“I just don’t understand you, Coriolanus. I mean, first you don’t want me, then you do want me, then you don’t again. And now what? I don’t know what I’m supposed to think when you don’t give me anything to go off.”
He watched you carefully, and you wanted to shake him, to scream, anything that would give you answers. You stood, unable to sit still, and started pacing.
“You know what’s worse? I don’t even know if you want me here anymore. I don’t know how to act around you because I never know what you’re thinking. At first I thought all this, the whole push and pull, was just some control thing. But-” you laughed, airy and insane, “you know what I realised? You’ve had me fooled, Snow. All this time I thought we were equals, but now I think I finally realise.”
He frowned, waiting for you to continue.
“You pay for my company, if you think about it. We trade services, don’t we? You get something from me, I get something back. I live in your house, eat your food, wear nice clothes. At the end of the day, that’s just it, isn’t it?”
“What?”
You shrugged, tears filling your eyes as bitterness took over, so strong you could almost taste it.
“I’m no better than a whore myself.”
You’d never heard a louder silence. If that hadn’t just taken everything out of you, you’d have begged him to say something. Instead, you just stared, eyes blurry with tears, as he seconds seemed to stretch into minutes, and you gave up trying to read his mind, because his expression was indecipherable.
After what felt like hours, he took a long breath.
“Sit down.”
You glanced at the floor, then took a step towards your chair. He stopped you.
“Not there. Here.” He nodded at the desk in front of him, and you swallowed thickly, stepping around the desk, getting awfully close to him, and pulling yourself onto the desk, legs pressed together. He stood, looking down at you.
“That’s really what you think of yourself?” He asked, voice steady and controlled.
You kept your eyes averted.
“Am I wrong?”
He lifted a hand and brushed his fingertips against your jaw, tipping your head up to look at him. And when you looked at his eyes, you knew exactly what he was feeling. He wasn’t hurt, or upset.
He was mad.
“Tell me something. What do you think I’d do if I heard someone talking about you that way?
“I don’t-”
“I’d have them executed. And you expect me to stand by and let you talk about yourself like that?”
You felt a tear spill down your cheek.
“I don’t know, Coriolanus, you tell me. Am I disposable to you?”
“Of course not."
“But you’d replace me if I left.”
“What makes you think I’d let you leave in the first place?”
A chill caressed your spine.
“That’s right. I’m keeping you here, doll. If I made you doubt that, I apologise. But you’re no whore. Though sometimes, I…” He trailed off.
“What?”
His eyes were on your lips again, hungry. You wondered how someone could switch from distant to depraved and wanting this quickly.
“Sometimes I wish you were. Because it’d make it a lot easier for me to take what I want. If you were, then I’d have no hesitation in ripping your clothes off right here. Fucking you on my desk, or up against the wall, not caring if you cum. Not caring if you enjoy it. If you were a whore, I’d have fucked you in every room in this house, twice over. I wouldn’t let you sleep.”
His hand was on your thigh, the now-creased fabric of your dress crumpling as it slid up. You weren’t sure when your eyes had fallen shut, your hot breath mixing with his as his thumb rubbed against your skin.
Your voice was pathetically quiet.
“Then why don’t you?”
He sighed, tone shifting into something tense, something you could cut through with a knife.
“Because you’re fucking impossible, you know that? I can barely think when you’re around. I don’t know where the games begin or end. I don’t… I don’t understand this power you have over me. I thought you knew, you must know that you’re under my skin. I don’t know if you’ll ever stop playing with me. It drives me fucking insane.”
You opened your eyes, hand gripping his wrist and pulling it from your thigh. You slid off the desk and took a step away from him.
“You think I’m playing with you? The only time you pay an ounce of attention to me is when you’re trying to fuck with my head, Snow. I said my piece, you heard me and you still didn’t care. So please, for both our sakes, stop torturing me. Just… come find me when you decide you want me again, okay? Let’s leave it at that.”
You made for the door, which you slammed with such an impressive force that it even took you aback.
You replayed his words in your head that night until you fell into a deep sleep, and when you woke, you felt like your dreams made more sense than he did.
“Tigris!” you exclaimed, catapulting into the blonde’s arms. The people who stood scattered around you in the manor’s large ballroom spun their heads around at your display. A few even dodged to the side as the momentum that you’d built running down the stairs nearly knocked her over.
A few days of silent glances and fewer exchanged words had passed. And now, you were just happy to be hosting in the comfort of your own home, and to finally see Tigris again. You wondered if she noticed how you hugged her, if she wondered - like you did - if you’d ever let go.
“I’m so happy you’re here. How’s your Grandma’am?”
“She’s quite well, she’s sorry she couldn’t make it. You look beautiful as ever. It’s been too long!”
“I know! I don’t think I’ve seen you since your birthday, which makes me the worst friend ever.” You groaned, scrunching up your face in shame.
“It’s okay! I know busy Coriolanus keeps you with all these functions. You must be going out of your mind by now. How are you holding up?”
The two of you walked to the edge of the room, where prying eyes had settled down after your greeting.
You looked at Snow, stood across the ballroom, dressed in a pristine suit with a champagne glass in hand, talking to yet another group of men who worked for him – ministers and such, a little higher ranking than the group from the other night – and spared you the occasional glance. As if he was keeping tabs on you. It wasn’t long before Tigris caught on and politely inquired.
“I don’t understand him, Tigris. I think he hates me.” You sighed.
“What? No, he could never. He has a soft spot for you, really, and I have it on good authority.”
“I’m not so sure anymore. I think I’ve pushed it a little far this time. I think… maybe we both did. I’m in uncharted waters, here.���
“Look, I know I don’t know all the ins and outs of how this thing between you works, but I don’t think he could ever hate you for doing anything. Coryo – I mean, Coriolanus, he does care, contrary to popular belief. It’s just that his way of showing it can get a little…”
“Fucked?” You offered, and she laughed.
“Yes, exactly. Now, I’m not going to lie to you and say that he’s an angel on earth, he’s had to do things to get to where he is now. Things that even I don’t know the extent of, and they’ve… changed him.”
You rarely got the chance to speak with Tigris alone these days, with Snow usually playing chaperone, or keeping one or the both of you busy, but it had always been easy to slide right back into conversation with her like you’d never been apart.
You’d first met Tigris at a Plinth gala years ago, on the same day you’d met Snow. The two of you had talked and laughed and she had an easiness around her, she wasn’t shallow and judgemental like a lot of the girls you’d grown up with, though you never knew why until many months later. Snow had placed a large wall between his life before the Plinth endorsement, and after. Few people knew the conditions he’d grown up in, but after countless hours with Tigris, you’d begun to assemble small pieces. Despite your closeness with her, you knew from her warnings that Snow had a sort of temper when it came to this topic, so you approached it with caution.
“Changed him how?” You inquired, finally.
“Well… It wasn’t always fancy balls and lunches with him. It never was, with any of us, as you know, but especially for him. He’s… had a different experience. Grandma’am and I, we’ve known hard times, but we haven’t seen what he’s seen. Not even close.”
“What kind of things?”
She glanced over her shoulder, making sure nobody was hovering.
“He’d kill me for telling you.”
“You know I won’t say a word. But you don’t have to tell me, if it’s too much to ask.”
She took in a breath, and sipped her drink, voice dropping to a whisper.
“This stays between us, okay? Coriolanus has… been out there. In the districts, I mean. Before all this. And I can’t go into detail, he’d have my head if I…”
You swallowed.
“The districts? But… why? I don’t-”
“Tigris, lovely to see you, it’s been so long.” A male voice interrupted, and you quickly excused yourself, slipping away to let the two of them talk.
After mulling it over in your head and making small talk with a few more guests, you snuck out of a side door and into the hallways, winding upstairs until you were finally met with Snow’s bedroom door. The sound of voices and music a mere echo below you, you pushed tentatively, and stepped inside. It was strange, being in there alone, for the first time since he’d turned you away. But you paced the floor, looking for something, anything, that would answer the questions you had. Why the districts? Why couldn’t Tigris tell you what had happened there?
Glancing back at the door, you began thumbing through his closet, peeking inside drawers. You’d already given his room a once over, but you worked more meticulously this time, every corner you unsuccessfully turned over only fuelling your curiosity. You walked around the room again, getting frustrated.
You headed back to the door, scanning the place, and retraced your steps a third time. Knocking a little on cupboards and anything that appeared the slightest bit odd or out of place. It was a perpetually tidy room, neat as ever, save for the desk which contained folders you were sure weren’t for your eyes, but that didn’t stop you. You kept on, trying your best not to leave any stone unturned, and most importantly, trying not to move anything out of place.
Eventually, you moved to the smaller desk drawers again, rifling through them haphazardly, annoyed by the lack of evidence you were finding. One of the two drawers had very little inside it, just a pencil and a pocket dictionary, and as you pushed your hand further inside to feel for anything else, you noticed it felt smaller than the first. Shallower. When you knocked, it was hollow.
It had a false bottom.
Your father used to keep his cigars beneath one of these when you were growing up, so you knew what to look for. You felt around the edge until you touched a small, metal handle, then emptied the drawer, hooked your fingers into the handle and pulled. You frowned at first, there was less in the hidden compartment than there was above it. But you peered inside, and there lay two items: an old photograph, and a silver dog tag.
Suddenly, it all made sense. His efficiency, his drive, his orderliness.
Military. The districts. The dog tag.
You unfolded the photograph, caked in a layer of dust, and it hit you like a ton of rocks.
Coriolanus was a peacekeeper.
But why? When? And why keep it a secret?
In the photograph, his hair was buzzed, and he was in a uniform you recognised immediately; if only because of the annual reaping ceremony shown in every building in the Capitol. He was standing next to a boy with dark hair, also buzzed. You recognised him as Sejanus Plinth, you’d never met the kid but you’d been to his funeral with your family, and had seen enough pictures to know.
You knew that the Plinth family had backed Coriolanus’ education, that he became their new heir, a protégé of sorts, but not that he’d been friends with their son. Not that they’d been this close, at least. They weren’t smiling in the photo, stood pin straight and alert in what looked like barracks.
You folded the photograph and placed it back where you found it. Your hands lingered on the dog tag, though, despite the logical side of your brain screaming at you to put it back, leave the room and pretend you didn’t see this. But the louder part egged you on as you pulled it out of the drawer, examining the engraved words, running your hands over the name SNOW and, further down, DISTRICT 12.
You’d heard bedtime stories from your mother while growing up, about the war, the Hunger Games and why they existed, and why it was never safe to set foot in the districts, not even the richer ones.
They’re beneath us, she’d said. They’re dangerous. Barbaric. And 12 was notoriously the poorest, most dangerous of them all.
Coriolanus had now become more of an enigma to you than ever before, and a thousand new questions flooded your head.
You closed the drawer halfway, holding the chain, pulling out a chair in front of the mirror to sit down. You turned the tag over in your hands, as if it would start giving you the answers, if only you looked hard enough.
Why was he sent to 12? Why couldn’t he talk about it?
Despite the conditions Snow grew up in, there was respect behind his family name. It didn’t make sense why someone of his social standing and education would leave to be a peacekeeper, of all things, and in 12, of all places. A strange sort of pity filled you, wondering what he could’ve seen out there. What he could’ve done. It all drew you in as you got lost in a world of what ifs.
Despite yourself, you pushed your hair from your neck, and as if in a trance, wrapped the chain around it. It fell heavy and cold against your skin, sending a chill through your bones. You were so busy staring down at it, so lost in thought that you barely noticed the sound of the door pushing open. Or the floorboards lightly creaking. Or his reflection in the mirror. You didn’t notice any of that, until the door swung shut with a bang.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Coriolanus had had a long day, most of which he’d spent simmering over work and you. He’d kept his eye on you that evening; on the way you’d thrown yourself into Tigris’ arms, and talked, transfixed, and he hated not knowing what was being said. A strange feeling set in as he saw the two of you get deeper into conversation from the other side of the large room, a deep-seated uneasiness stirring him up as he drowned out the tales of his associates’ incompetence. It felt like a breath of relief when he sent someone your way to interrupt whatever talk you were having, pretending that Tigris had been looking for him earlier. He focused on your brief tour of the room when the distraction worked, eyes flitting around like you were preoccupied.
When he saw you dart away from the ballroom and up one of the stairwells, he followed you as soon as he got the chance.
He’d wondered if you might act up today, but this wasn’t what he was expecting. When he saw you, the all too familiar glint of silver around your pretty neck, something shifted in him. Something he’d done a very, very good job of keeping at bay during his first few years of presidency.
Rage.
Your eyes met his in the mirror.
“Coriolanus, I-”
His hands were on you before you could finish your sentence, hauling you out of the chair, fingers wrapped in a death grip around your arms, squeezing as he pushed you to the wall with a satisfying thud.
“What, you can explain? I highly doubt that.”
“I’m sorry, I just-” You gasped as he squeezed tighter, gripping your wrists.
“Do you even know what this means?” He seethed, dog tag pressed between his fingers, chain pulling at your neck.
The forest. The birds. The gunshots that deafened him for weeks.
“I didn’t know… I’m sorry. I never knew you were a peacekeeper, Coryo, I-” He flinched, saw the way you winced the second it passed your lips.
Snow may have been cold, but his eyes were fire. And you were only stoking it.
“So I’m Coryo now? Who the fuck told you call me that? Was it Tigris? I saw you talking to her, don’t lie to me.”
“No.” You shook your head. “She didn’t tell me anything, I promise. Please. It was just me.”
He moved in closer, eclipsing you altogether, grip on the chain so tight he was certain you’d be able to feel it pinching the back of your neck, digging a mark into your flesh. He let the sadistic part of his brain take delight in it, in the way your eyes widened, face pleading.
Whatever this game was between you, you’d gone too far this time.
“How did you find this?” He snapped.
You were crowded against the wall, unable to move. Tears started to brim, and you didn’t answer, he wasn’t sure you could. You just shook your head over and over, repeating I’m sorry like a broken record.
“Take this off. Now. Take it off.” He ordered, dropping it back to your chest, stepping away a little so you could lift your shaking arms over your head, removing the chain. He snatched it from you, gripping it in his palm, looking down at it, and you breathed out in relief.
“I didn’t mean to… I was just looking. I had so many questions. I didn’t know what I’d find.”
“And? Are you fucking satisfied now?” His voice chilled you to the bone as he looked up at you again.
You shook your head. Apologised again. Wished you could apologise in any way that would matter, but it was too late. You’d never been more afraid in your life, anticipating what might happen, remembering echoes of rumors you’d heard, of Snow poisoning his enemies, of sending them to hang. Some you knew to be true, but others you boiled down to rebel gossip.
Now, you weren’t so sure. These were the eyes of a man who’d dropped his mask, and it was like staring into a dark void. You could get lost in it, and never find your way back.
“Please. Don’t… I won’t tell anyone, I promise. You can trust me.”
He scoffed.
Stupid girl. Hadn’t you learned by now, that trust meant nothing?
“Like I trusted you in here? I don’t think so. Can’t believe you had me feeling sorry for you. Probably just made it up so you could lower my guard then turn around and stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“I didn’t, Coriolanus, I swear.” You pleaded. You were crying, tears slipping down your cheeks.
“I’ve been very patient with you, little girl. But this is where I draw the line. You have no idea how far you’ve pushed me. And you don’t even realise it, you’re so caught up in your little crush. Do you know how easy I’ve been going on you? The things I’ve let you get away with… I’ve killed people for much less.”
“You’ve…” You trailed off, barely hearing your own words, barely processing a thing. He laughed, low and dark.
“Does that scare you, sweetheart? Does it make you afraid?”
Eyes frozen open, you just stared. You felt your jaw go slack.
“Good.”
Coriolanus toed an invisible line, one that had never been crossed before. You wanted him to show you he wanted you? Fine.
He looked down at the chain wrapped around his fist, but he didn’t pocket it, or place it to the side. He unwound it, and slowly pulled it over his own neck.
Your eyes dropped to where it sat in stark contrast, heavy and shining, garish against his fancy dress shirt. You felt your blood run cold.
“Get on your knees.” You heard him say. Your eyes darted back up.
“What?”
When he spoke, it sounded like someone else was talking. Someone you didn’t know at all.
“You heard me. Get on your fucking knees. Right now.”
What could you do? This was what you’d wanted. Just… not like this. Not when your hands were shaking in fear, and you had no idea what this Coriolanus was capable of.
Your head said yes; your heart wept. But you were far past listening to your sorry heart.
So, you obeyed. Legs all but giving in as you lowered yourself to the ground, knees meeting cold hardwood as the chill cut through your dress.
His fingers slipped under one of the straps.
“Take this off, baby.” He murmured, distant, like he wasn’t all there. Your head hung in shame, eyes on his feet as you pushed the straps from your shoulder, top half of the dress falling down. You heard his zipper slide down, and you shivered. No longer sure if it was in fear or anticipation.
“Head up. Look at me. Good,” he said, when you obliged, “now let’s see what this pretty mouth’s really good for, shall we?”
More tears welled up as his hand brushed your jaw, hooking a thumb to your bottom lip, pushing your mouth open. You couldn’t help the way your tongue grazed over it, tasting salt, whining when you realised it was the taste of your own tears. When your eyes fell open again, you finally caught a look at him, hard and tip weeping, and your brain filled with nothing but want, eclipsing your fear for a mere second, enough to bring Coriolanus to the ground again. He may have done terrible, unspeakable things, but he was still a man. A man who wanted you.
And why did that make your heart beat out of your chest? It thrummed like a hummingbird as you took in the sight of him, unbuttoning his shirt as he waited for you to move.
You’d seen how big he was from a distance. You’d felt him between layers of fabric, and you’d imagined this a million times over. But now, as he stood waiting in front of you, you hesitated, because it all finally felt real. Your mouth watered despite yourself, seeing the mess he’d already made, any more and he’d start dripping -
“Go on, sweetheart. It’s not gonna suck itself.”
Your eyes squeezed shut as you let him past your lips. The heady taste of precum filled your mouth as you ran your tongue along the shaft slowly, trying to start steady. He wasn’t having it. His hand twisted through your hair, pulling you in closer, making you gag a little. You instinctively lifted a hand up to his thigh to brace yourself, and he laughed.
“Giving up so soon? Thought you’d try harder than that.”
He pushed further, and the indignant sound you made as you adjusted only served to spur him on.
You tried to focus on breathing through it, but he slipped in and out your mouth unevenly, and faster than you could think, catching you off guard. He looked down at the way your mouth struggled to take his length as if you were a piece of art, like he was mesmerised by it, and that feeling was encouragement was enough to keep you going. His hand twisted harder in your hair, making a fist, and he swore when you hummed in discomfort.
“Look at you.” He said, strung-out and shaky. “You strut right in here from your silver spoon life, and think you can call the shots? You’ve bitten off more than you can chew, sweetheart. You have no fucking idea what the world is really like. What people are like. What they have to do to survive.”
He moved faster, and you let your jaw go slack. You were barely moving now, he was starting to fuck your throat like he owned it. You’d started to cry again, and when you looked up at him, it was a blur. The furthest you could see was his chest, shirt unbuttoned and falling to the sides, and the dog tag, silver catching in the low light, swinging against his chest as he moved. You closed your eyes again, trying to go somewhere else in your head. Trying to breathe through your nose, to focus on being used, on how good you were making him feel, on finally being his. It was all you had left to hold on to.
But he was unwinding you with his words, knowing just where to press to make it sting, to make the tears fall harder.
“You don’t have any fucking shame about it either. Touching yourself on my bed and wearing my clothes, like you’re – fuck, that’s it - like we’re married or something. Like you’re worth more than everyone else. But look at you. Maybe you were right after all. Maybe you are my whore.” he gritted out.
Tears streamed down your cheeks as you tried desperately to catch your breath between sobs.
“I mean, you sure look like it now, on your knees for me, making a mess of your pretty face. So fucking good. You’re sucking me off better than she did, and you’re barely even trying.”
You hated it. Hated the way his thumb brushed painfully gently against your cheek, dusting away a tear as his cock bruised the back of your throat and you tried not to gag around him. Hated the way his words twisted around in your head, and how fucked up it was that your broken brain took it as praise instead of punishment.
Most of all, you hated the throb between your shaking legs, panties soaked through and probably ruined. Humiliation seeped through you as you imagined it dripping down your legs and onto the floor. Your salty tears spilled down your face, mixing with your spit and his precum. Hating every second, until your head went blank, and you didn’t feel much of anything anymore.
You weren’t sure exactly how it happened.
One second, he was pulling your hair, twitching in your mouth and spilling down your throat, and the next, in what felt like a flash, you were on the floor, loud, wrecked sobs spilling out of you as you held your knees to your chest, face hidden. He was on the floor too - when did he get down? - and his voice was soft, oh so soft and gentle, saying something you couldn’t quite make out, dull and repetitive past your ringing ears.
“- so sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I know I - I didn’t… I took it too far. Can you hear me, sweetheart? Look at me. Please, look at me. I’m right here.”
You pulled your head from your hands, and through blurred eyes, you looked at him.
This wasn’t a face you’d seen on him before. His brows knitted, lips apart as he stared at you, like you were some wounded animal he wanted to save.
“Talk to me, sweetheart. Please.”
“I can’t…” You trailed off.
“You can tell me.”
Another wave of choked back sobs took over you. He held your jaw up like you were something breakable. Like maybe you’d broken already, and he was holding you together.
“I can’t do this.” You whispered. “Not like-”
He nodded, brushing a tear from your cheek.
“Okay. It’s okay, baby. Tell me what I can do for you. Just say the word.”
You caught your breath, and he flinched a little as you collapsed into his arms. The cool metal of the dog tag pressed into your cheek.
“I don’t know. I’m sorry.” You cried.
“I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t realise how far I’d pushed you until… I know I can’t make it up to you, but I’ll try. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. If you want to leave, I understand. I’ll make the arrangements.”
“What? No, that’s not…”
He cut you off, looking into your eyes.
“Decide tomorrow, okay doll? You don’t have to think about that now.”
“I didn’t know about… about the districts.” You hiccupped. “About you. You didn’t want me to know. I ruined everything, I-”
“Listen to me. It doesn’t matter anymore, I promise you. It’s okay, baby.”
You nodded into his chest.
“Here.” He leaned away from you, and you looked up in a question. He took the chain from his neck and placed it in your palm.
“You can have it. So long as nobody sees. You can throw it away, wear it around the house, whatever you want. It’s yours.”
You pressed it between your fingers. It cooled your hot skin like a salve.
“Thank you.” You whispered. Your head sank back onto his chest, and when you spoke again, it was barely audible.
“Coryo?”
He tensed for a second, but relaxed again just as quickly.
“Yeah?”
“Can I stay with you tonight?”
His hand brushed gently against your hair, and you relaxed into it.
“Of course you can.”
a/n: baby's first dubcon scene!! (screams cries and throws up bc navigating that was scary as fuck) p.s one more chapter left!! do we think they'll get their shit together?? who knows!! (i know)
taglist: @superchatnoir07 @itsrainingreid @nycweb-slinger @lookclosernow @etfrin @resibunn @serving-targaryen-realness @harmfulb1tch @demonsnangels @superb-icarus @julesandro @gracieroxzy @slyhersophia @shadowsepiphany @ben-has-arrived @unclecrunkle @zerotwo-sciencequeen @itsleniiilosers @thesiriusmap @ooooglymoooogly @darkqweenn @going-through-shit @loverw1tch @stinkii-boii @tqmqkii @not-avery @natsgf @sleepysongbirdsings @hopebaker @darknight3904 @pemberlystateofmind @bxtchopolis @real-lana-del-rey @24kmar @louweasleymalfoy @m1ndbrand @coconut-dreamz @cosmicgyral @urfavevirgoo @mk15x @theamuz @ashy-kit @violante777 @snowlandstop @badbleep88
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#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow x you#coriolanus snow smut#coriolanus snow#tom blyth#tbosas#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#tom blyth x reader#tom blyth x you#snow x reader#snow x you#attention#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus x you#the hunger games#x reader#x you smut
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Infernal Shadows 04.
Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.
Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it, last part was a cliffhanger but here we are surviving :) Some background on Madame and I pray you guys get the reference with the name of the exorcist
A/N: I AM BACK FROM THE DEAD!!!! I finally got this out and I added to it so this is a longer chapter than anticipated. I’m so horribly sorry for taking forever to get this out, I had like so many reports to do for my job and this was just calling to me. I hope you guys didn’t forget this and if you did I totally don’t blame you. Not to fret though, I have big plans coming soon, and I’m pushing for longer chapters to keep you people fed. I love you all so so so much! Happy reading and thank you for being so patient and for all the kind messages I got! As for the taglist, I’m afraid it’s closed as of right now, just because I physically cannot tag anymore people on these posts, so I’ll try to figure something out with that!
Tags: @dollops-of-delusion @nebusokuxp @scrunchss @rosedasy @valluvz @chesstras @pishybowl @iaaeav @forgotten-blues @22carolina08 @roboticsuccubus83 @doflamingadonquixote @froggyferrets @frompeach @absurd-ash @sillysillyxinnabun @urdariingdoll @delectableworm @immahuman @justaproudslytherpuff @local-mr-frog @angeli-fucking-cat @coldsweetsenthusiast @jadekomaeda @coffeethoughtsandanxiety @lunalixya @lemonrolls @asimplikeallyall @only-cherry-blossom @sockgoblin @nxrdamp @1-800-no-users-left @l0ca1ax010t1 @inutheangel @reader-of-worlds @writing-fanics @random-person07 @ghostdoodlen @elaemae @fantasy-angelo @tanjirosworld @patchesofdreams @sunnyslug @reineurynome @scoliobean @arrozyfrijoles23 @kimmikreates @lqmons @amarokofficial @mangobango69
Word count: 5694
Navigation!! // Masterlist!! // Serendipity writes (event)!! // Part three //
Charlie had almost jumped out of her seat upon seeing the excorsist by your side. The water spout collapsing quickly, water violently splashing all around. A crowd of ‘ooh’s and ah’s could be heard from the crowd as you finally revealed the exorcist to everyone, allowing the sinners around to get a better look at the pet with you. The exorcist next to you was a woman, who looked fairly young. Her wings were large, white feathers with a sheer hint of gold. Her skin was ghostly white, and her eyes were equally as pale, almost a ghost. she looked around quickly, turning in her spot on the ground next to you, where she was kneeling. Her wrists were bound by chains and she stood quickly, wings flaring out. Yet, amid the spectacle, Charlotte couldn't help but notice a flicker of sorrow in the exorcist's pale eyes.
You stood next to her calmly, playing the violin as she stood, flying off the ground and up the middle of the coliseum, flying as quickly as she good. Her long hair, white with golden streaks, flowing as she flew up. Before she could get out however, a long black chain appeared around her neck, pulling her backward quickly, choking her. Her eyes went wide, hand reaching out to the sky above, a silent reach for heaven, before her angelic body was pulled back into the floor of the coliseum, body hitting the hard ground with a loud thud, the floor cracking beneath her upon the impact. Black chains began to hold onto her legs, her chest and neck as she fought against it, the chains lifting her high enough in the air for the crowd to see, making a mockery out of her, out of the exorcists above.
Charlotte's eyes widened, mirroring the shock and disbelief etched across her face as she witnessed the angelic exorcist's dramatic entrance. Alastor, usually composed, betrayed a subtle flicker of concern, his stoic demeanor momentarily shaken.
As the exorcist's wings unfurled, the sheer beauty of her appearance contrasted sharply with the ominous chains that bound her. The crowd's collective gasp echoed, drowning out the earlier applause.
Alastor's grip on his opera glasses tightened, a silent acknowledgment of the unforeseen depth this performance had taken. The music continued, but now there was an undertone of tension, each note echoing the internal struggle of the exorcist. Just the way you had intended.
The audience's gasps turned into uneasy whispers. Charlotte glanced at Alastor, finding a mix of fascination and unease in his expression. His smile looked almost painful, like a touch to him would have him shatter on the spot. She was not used to seeing him this way. Something was oddly unsettling about having him next to her in this way.
“Should we be watching this?” Velvet leans over to ask Vox, sketch book long discarded. He says nothing, eyes blown wide as he takes in the sight before him. It wasn’t like he hadn’t ever seen an exorcist, but this sight was different in itself. You were basically manhandling an exorcist right in front of everyone. This was holy power you were messing with. Tauntingly, making a fool out of this poor innocent girl. Vox wasn’t sure if he was supposed to run away, tail between his legs, or sit and watch the way you had wanted. To obey or disobey, like a dog.
The song was finally at its peak, the angels wings spread to its full length as she fought to get away, thrashing about as she fought again the chains. Charlotte feels her own throat tighten, her heart feeling heavy.
“I can’t watch.” Charlotte said, standing and moving to take her leave, but a large shadow blocked her path.
“Madame requests that you stay here.” The shadow spoke. Charlotte was silent and though she wanted to argue, decided against it.
Amidst the tension, the atmosphere in the coliseum grew heavier, the ethereal music now echoing a dissonant melody. As the angelic exorcist continued her struggle, a figure emerged from the shadows – a mysterious character, their presence felt more than seen.
This enigmatic figure, shrouded in darkness, approached Charlotte with a whispered urgency. "You hold the key to her liberation," the voice murmured, barely audible over the haunting notes of the violin. "Will you break the chains or become a spectator to her demise?"
Charlotte, conflicted and sensing a greater responsibility, looked at the shadowy figure, determination flickering in her eyes. With a newfound resolve, she turned towards the restrained exorcist, seeking a way to intervene and unravel the unsettling performance that had taken a dark turn. The coliseum, once a mere stage for entertainment, now stood witness to a moral crossroads where choices weighed heavily on the hearts of those present, and it was definitely making Charlotte contemplate her whole reason for being here.
Alastor's sharp warning reverberates through the air, his stern tone emphasizing the gravity of the situation. "Interruption during Madame's performance is ill-advised, my dear. It is best not to meddle in affairs beyond your understanding." he cautions, a hint of a threat underlying his words.
Rosie, with a more nurturing but firm approach, guides Charlotte back to her seat. "It's not the time, hon. Madame's got her ways, and we don't want trouble. Just watch and let it play out," Rosie advises, her gaze mirroring a subtle concern for Charlotte's safety.
As Charlotte reluctantly takes her seat, the tension in the coliseum persists, the haunting music and the struggling exorcist creating an eerie symphony that held everyone in a state of suspense. The shadowy figure lingers, observing the unfolding drama with a watchful gaze, leaving an air of mystery and uncertainty in its wake.
The resounding crash echoes through the coliseum as the angelic exorcist succumbs to the relentless chains, her divine form colliding with the unforgiving ground. The spectators, now silent witnesses to the spectacle's unsettling conclusion, feel the vibrations of the impact reverberate through the arena.
The once-beautiful performance has transformed into a scene of somber defeat, the ethereal music now hauntingly melancholic. The shadows that enshrouded the coliseum seem to deepen, casting an eerie gloom over the aftermath.
The mysterious figure in the shadows maintains a watchful presence, its intentions still unclear as the audience processes the unsettling turn of events. The coliseum, leaving an indelible mark on the collective psyche of those who bore witness. As the ethereal music slowly fades to silence, the chains metamorphose into spectral figures, gracefully carrying the defeated angel away. The abrupt stillness in the coliseum feels eerie, the aftermath of the performance leaving the guests, including Charlotte, in a state of uneasy reflection.
The band, once vivid and lively, dissipates like wisps of smoke, leaving an empty stage behind. Madame, now standing alone in the center of the coliseum, is joined by the largest shadow, a looming presence beside her. The shadowy figure addresses the hushed audience, explaining that they will be escorted back to Madame's home for dinner. "Ladies and gentlemen, the next act awaits within the walls of Madame's mansion. Your journey through her realm has only just begun.”
The guests, still processing the unsettling performance, are ushered towards their tables with a sense of quiet trepidation. The coliseum, now devoid of the vibrant spectacle, transforms into a place of anticipation as the guests prepare for the next act in Madame's enigmatic domain. Charlotte, visibly shaken, moves among the disquieted crowd. Zestial stands out, his calm demeanor contrasting with the collective unease. His eyes reveal a depth of understanding, leaving Charlotte to wonder what he really thought of the performance. As they return to Madame's home, the charged atmosphere persists, leaving everyone to ponder what awaits them in the next act of this mysterious and haunting night.
The shadows lead those seated privately with Madame through a mysterious portal, transporting them to a large, black room. The windows, tinted black from floor to ceiling, create an otherworldly aura. Bowls of floating fire cast dancing shadows around the room, adding an element of mystique. In the center stands an impressive dining table, crafted from black wood with matching black chairs adorned with white cushions.
White plates with a gold lining are meticulously arranged, each bearing a name card. The order mirrors the sequence in which the guests were initially invited: Alastor, Vox, Charlie, Velvet, Zestial, Carmilla, and Rosie. Three empty seats capture attention, the most prominent being the grand and ornate chair at the head of the table – undoubtedly Madame's seat.
However, two other unoccupied chairs add a layer of intrigue. One is positioned across from Madame, and the other is to her right. Vox, leaning casually against the black dining table, raises an eyebrow as he scans the unoccupied chairs. "So, did Madame forget to send out a couple more invites, or did she just not bother finding anyone else worth inviting?" His tone, dripping with casual disdain, prompts an involuntary eye twitch from Alastor and a scoff from Carmilla. The room is momentarily tense as the guests settle into their seats, the air thick with unspoken tension and the promise of an unconventional dining.
The large shadow materializes behind Madame's chair the moment everyone takes their seats. It speaks with a commanding presence,
"Madame will be joining you shortly, ensuring the guests are properly situated in the main dining hall. For now, you may all start with the drink of your choice."
As the shadow's words linger, the room is filled with the appearance of various drinks, each guest's preference seemingly anticipated. The other shadows swiftly deliver the beverages before seamlessly vanishing from view. In their place, a small orchestra emerges from the darkest corners of the room, ready to weave a musical tapestry that will accompany the unfolding feast.
The atmosphere in the black room remains charged with a sense of anticipation, the guests left to wonder about the mysteries that await in Madame's unconventional and enigmatic domain.
The anticipation peaks as the celestial display unfolds outside the tinted windows. Stars twinkle in the vast darkness, and constellations take shape, transforming the black room into a cosmic spectacle. The guests, mesmerized by the celestial scene, exchange awed glances.
”Oh this is so beautiful.” Charlotte says, glancing around at the stars.
In the midst of this ethereal backdrop, Madame makes her grand entrance. A sweeping gust of shadow accompanies her, like a cloak billowing in an unseen breeze. She moves gracefully, her silhouette weaving through the darkness, and steps into the room with an air of an almost royal confidence.
Madame wears an elaborate gown that seems to absorb and reflect the celestial light. Its deep, dark hues shimmer with a glow, adorned with intricate patterns that evoke the mysteries of the night sky, certainly fitting her specticle. Her presence commands attention, and a hushed silence falls over the room as the guests turn their gaze towards her.
A soft, melodic hum emanates from Madame, resonating with the orchestral tunes. The shadows, now at her command, align to form a fleeting silhouette of wings that unfurl and then disappear into the darkness. She takes her seat at the grand table, her eyes gleaming with a haunting form of excitement.
As Madame takes her seat, the celestial display beyond the windows intensifies, casting a glow over the dining room. The shadows, now intricately woven into ethereal patterns, dance along the walls, adding to the surreal atmosphere. With a graceful gesture, Madame signals the waitstaff shadows to present the first course. Exquisite dishes are unveiled, each a culinary masterpiece designed to tantalize the senses. Alastor’s eyes light up as his favorite dish is revealed — Jambalaya. Rich and spicy, it perfectly captures his love for bold and vibrant flavors.
Vox, always one for extravagance, is presented with Sushi. Delicate sushi rolls arranged like musical notes create a visual and auditory delight, harmonizing with each flavorful bite. Meanwhile, Velvet savors the spicy noodles on her plate, a cosmic array of ingredients adorning handmade noodles, reflecting her love for adventurous flavors.
Charlotte’s palate is delighted with the Harmony of Garden Greens, a vibrant salad showcasing fresh and wholesome ingredients. Zestial’s preference for refined flavors is indulged with a nice tender steak. Carmilla indulges in an enchanting dark Chocolate Fondue, a decadent dessert that mirrors her taste for the luxurious. Rosie, captivated by sweetness and charm, enjoys a stellar Strawberry Shortcake, a heavenly creation adorned with edible flowers. Rosie was grateful Madame hadn’t served her limbs this evening, though the craving was very much there.
As the guests savor their feast, Vox, unable to resist his penchant for stirring conversation, attempts to broach the topic of the enigmatic exorcist from Madame's previous performance. "Madame, that exorcist bit was quite the show, don't you think? Who was she, and why the dramatics?" Vox inquires with his signature flair, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Though Alastor would never admit it, he was silently appreciative Vox was the one to voice the question. He knew Madame would have his head if he dared to ask. A large grin is displayed as he awaits Madame’s response. Knowing she is intolerant of being questioned on her decisions.
Madame, however, responds with a stern and unwavering gaze. "Vox, some matters are not for idle chatter. Rest assured, when the time is right, I will provide the explanation that is due." Her tone, though firm, carries a sense of ancient wisdom that tempers Vox's usual audacity. Alastor just grins to himself, happy she did not disappoint.
Carmilla, sensitive to the undercurrents of unease, feels a shiver down her spine. The cryptic response leaves her uneasy, but she keeps her feelings to herself. Madame's words hang in the air, a subtle reminder that there are depths to this realm that remain veiled. She is in control.
The aura intensifies as the orchestra weaves a haunting melody, adding an ethereal backdrop to the exchange. The guests, now caught in the delicate dance of shadows, flavors, and unspoken mysteries, await the unfolding of Madame's narrative. However, to their dismay, she leaves them empty handed.
The small orchestra adapts it’s tunes, complementing the dining room with melodies that resonate with the mysteries of Madame. The music sways between haunting and enchanting, guiding the guests through an experience that transcends the ordinary.
"I hope the food is to everyone's enjoyment," Madame remarks, her plate being set in front of her last. The guests, captivated by the transcendent feast, eagerly dig into their respective dishes. As the flavors unfold on their palates, a chorus of satisfaction fills the room.
“These are quite excellent.” Carmilla comments as she enjoys her meal. Madame only nods in response. Compliments flow freely from the guests to Madame and the shadows, expressions of delight escaping between bites. Alastor, savoring his Jambalaya, commends the bold and vibrant flavors.
The room resonates with the sounds of enjoyment, and Rosie, with the Strawberry Shortcake, receives nods of approval for the delightful sweetness. Madame, her strong composure unwavering, listens to the compliments with a hint of satisfaction. Everyone enjoys being praised.
As the melodies of the cosmos continue to weave through the air, the dining room becomes a mix of flavor and enchantment. The guests, immersed in the extraordinary experience, savor each moment, aware that this transcendent feast is not just a meal but the start to something haunting.
Things could not be peaceful forever though. Madame pushed back a bit and stood, immediately drawing everyone’s attention.
“I would like to thank you all for being such pleasant guests tonight. I do believe a lot has happened since the last extermination. I am aware you overlords, or the ones that had the decency to show up, are aware that we must do something to protect our souls. Which begs the question.” Madame stops, taking her time to look at everyone. “What do you plan to do when the exorcists come down here to kill you all?” She asks bluntly. Carmilla inhales sharply not saying much, which Zestial just sips a cup of tea, his usual. Alastor and Rosie exchange a glance, but before anyone can say anything, Vox interjects.
“Well Madame I think you’ll be pleased to know Vox-tech has been working on protection for the people and-“
“Do you really think a piece of technology will stop this?” Madame asks. Her eyes narrow at him, and Vox silently sinks into his seat. Madame sighs, her shadow pulling her chair farther back so she can walk around the table, to the empty seat across from her. “Since you all clearly have no clue what to do, I presume I’ll share my idea.” Madame says, before she snaps her fingers. In an instant, a large shadow, almost in the shape of a sphere, forms next to her. It’s whispy and hyperactive, almost alive, before it sinks to the ground. Slowly it’s fades away. The guests stand, wanting to get a closer look, before the shadow turns to fog, and falls away. There in it’s place is the exorcist from the coliseum.
“Madame-!” Carmilla says, but is met with a stern look from Madame.
“Something wrong?” She asked. A chain formed around the exorcists neck, one that wrapped around Madame’s hand. She holds it tight, like she’s holding a wild animal back. Velvet wonders if this is because she’s afraid, or excited.
“Go on. Speak.” Madame says to the girl next to her. She looks down at the ground, a bit bruised but shining brightly nevertheless.
“I do not wish-to fight.” The girl says, and Madame just smiles.
“Let her go.” Charlotte says. The overlords look at Charlotte with a surprised expression. Madame says nothing, and instead tilts her head to look at Charlotte.
“Let her go?” Madame repeats, and Charlotte nods.
“Yes. Let her go.” Charlotte says, suddenly feeling nervous. Madame doesn’t appear to be upset, which only confuses and makes Charlotte even more anxious.
“Very well then. Have it your way.” Madame says, dropping the chained leash. Suddenly, the exorcist flies up and lunges at Zestial, attacking him. The overlords all disperse, watching as he throws her off of him.
“No! Wait stop!” Charlotte says, trying to get the situation under control. Alastor’s eyes widen, and he grins, tentacles appearing from the ground quickly, attempting to scare her by attacking her wings. The moment his tentacle touches the feathers on her back, it burns, and Alastor pulls back immediately, seemingly confused. The room erupts in screams and chaos, Rosie attempting to get the exorcist away from her as she tries to kill her.
“My dear, you do realize the mess you’ve made, yes?” Alastor asks as he summons himself next to Madame. She stands by the windows, the starts casting an almost colorful display over her, making her seem ethereal. Madame nods.
“Well then maybe you should get Lilith’s pet under control.” Madame inquires. Alastor just grins, nodding before lifting her hand to kiss the back of it.
“Of course Madame.” He says, before fading into his shadow. Carmilla stands next to a tired Zestial, while Velvet and Vox stand on the dining table, holding onto each other for dear life, while Rosie takes to poking fun at the exorcist, who seems to only want to harm Charlotte at this point.
“You filthy girl-!” The exorcist cries, before she chokes, a black chain wrapping around her neck quickly, and pulling her back.
“Enough Evangeline.” Madame says sharply. At this, the exorcist grows quiet almost immediately. Charlotte is in tears and on the floor, Alastor picking her up by her underarms, setting her straight.
“This is why you be quiet.” Alastor whispered to Charlotte.
“Oh~ that was fun! Let’s do this again.” Rosie says delightfully. Madame just nods to her, an unreadable expression adorning her features.
“Yes, let’s.” Madame says, tugging Evangeline’s chain sharply. Evangeline stands, now looking a bit shorter than Madame, while Madame’s shadows remove Vox and Velvet from the dining table. Quickly, everything is back in order, as Madame ushers the guests to take their seats. Now, Evangeline sits at the head of the table, across from Madame.
“Everyone, this is Evangeline, my sister.”
“Sister?” Vox asks, shying away from the exorcist.
“Didn’t you hear her?” Velvet asks, nudging him with her elbow. He just nods, but says nothing.
“Yes. Sister. I’ve obtained her for one reason and that reason only.” Madame said, before Zestial interjected.
“What reason doth that be?” Zestial asks. Madame just smiles, with a snap of her fingers, Evangeline is turned around, wings sprawled out.
“To send a message of course.” Madame says. Before a paper is presented to all the guests.
“During the extermination I had the pleasure of speaking to Adam.”
”Wait Adam like, first man Adam?” Velvet asked, and Madame nods.
“Yes, him. He believes he can wipe us out fairly quickly. He said he’d be back for me specifically.” Madame said, looking out to the windows, before continuing. “So, I decided it would be best if we sent him a lovely letter. Charlotte,” Madame said, “I know you spoke to him recently. If he wants to come to your hotel, I believe it’s only right we make other areas just as much of a target.” Madame said, before Carmilla frowned.
”Why should we? Won’t that make us all targets?” Carmilla asked. Madame nodded.
“Yes, but with too many locations they’ll spread themselves thin.” Madame said.
“Why are we talking about this in front of her?” Rosie asked, pointing to Evangeline. “Won’t she just tell them what we’re planning?” Rosie asked. Madame shrugged.
”Possibly. I never said she was going back alive.” Madame said. “But this topic can wait. I’m ready for dessert.” She said, and suddenly shadows were back with all kinds of desserts in the middle of the table. Evangeline was now facing the rest of the guests, all who stared at her with a predatory gaze.
Y/n L/n was born in the year 1885, with her sister, Evangeline, arriving in 1887, just two years apart. Y/n was the eldest among her siblings, having two younger sisters and a younger brother. Sadly, the youngest sister passed away at the tender age of twelve, a victim to scarlet fever. Despite this tragedy, Evangeline remained the darling of the town, known for her innocence and beloved by all. Meanwhile, their brother Arthur matured at a quicker pace than Evangeline.
The family's prosperity stemmed from being victims of the Salem witch trials back in the 1600s. This dark history actually served as a catalyst, enabling their ancestors to establish a business that had been passed down through generations, making Y/n the rightful heir. Initially, the business catered to workers and provided scrubs, but Y/n had grander visions.
Under Y/n's leadership, the business transformed from producing simple workwear to crafting exquisite dresses, corsets, feathered hats, and other fashionable garments. These creations were designed to empower young women and elevate their sense of self-esteem, departing from the mundane work attire of the past.
As word spread of the boutique's exceptional offerings, affluent families began flocking to Y/n's establishment, seeking custom dresses and elegant accessories. Evangeline, always cheerful and accommodating, played a pivotal role in welcoming and attending to the guests while Y/n conducted business.
Despite the initial success and harmony, ominous clouds loomed on the horizon, signaling that peace and tranquility might not last forever.
Evangeline's heart fluttered whenever she was around Alexander, a charming and charismatic gentleman who frequented the boutique who was also from a wealthy family. Their budding romance seemed like a fairy tale at first, but little did Evangeline know, Alexander harbored hidden agendas. But Y/n could see it from a mile away. But alas, she let her younger sister be. She did not feel threatened by Alexander. To her, he was simply another walking wallet right into her arms.
As their relationship deepened, Alexander subtly planted seeds of doubt about Y/n in Evangeline's mind. He would gently question Y/n's decisions, pointing out areas where he believed Evangeline could excel if given more freedom.
"My darling Evangeline," Alexander would whisper, his voice dripping with honeyed words, "you're a diamond in the rough, waiting to shine. But Y/n's cautious approach is holding you back. Imagine what you could achieve with your own vision."
Evangeline, enamored and impressionable, began to see Y/n's protective actions as barriers to her dreams rather than safeguards for their family's legacy. Alexander's persuasive arguments fueled Evangeline's desire for independence and recognition.
"You deserve more than being just Y/n's shadow," Alexander would say, his eyes filled with feigned concern. "Don't let fear of failure hold you back. Take risks, Evangeline. Follow your heart."
Unaware of Alexander's ulterior motives, Evangeline started to view Y/n's guidance and decisions with skepticism. She began to prioritize her relationship with Alexander over the family's business, inadvertently straining her bond with Y/n.
As Alexander's influence grew, Evangeline's perception of Y/n shifted, painting Y/n as overly controlling and unsupportive of her aspirations. The once-close sisters found themselves on opposite ends, with Alexander's manipulative tactics driving a wedge between them.
Behind the facade of love and affection, Alexander manipulated Evangeline's emotions and perceptions, using her vulnerability to further his own agenda. The tangled web of romance and manipulation threatened to unravel the familial harmony Y/n had worked so hard to maintain.
One evening, as Evangeline sat in her room at the family estate, Alexander approached her with a concerned expression. "Evangeline, my love," he began, "I've noticed something troubling about Y/n's management of the business. It seems she's keeping you in the dark about important decisions."
Evangeline furrowed her brow, surprised by Alexander's revelation. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
Alexander leaned in, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "I've heard whispers among the staff," he confided, "about Y/n making decisions behind your back, as if she doesn't trust you with the business's future. You deserve to have a voice, Evangeline. You shouldn't be kept in the dark."
Doubt crept into Evangeline's mind as she pondered Alexander's words. She had always trusted Y/n implicitly, but Alexander's claims sowed seeds of suspicion and resentment. "But Y/n has always had our family's best interests at heart," Evangeline countered weakly.
"Of course, my dear," Alexander reassured her, his tone soothing. "But perhaps Y/n fears that your ideas and vision might outshine hers. You're more than capable, Evangeline. Don't let anyone keep you from realizing your full potential."
In the following days, Alexander's subtle manipulation and peer pressure intensified. He highlighted instances where Y/n had made decisions without consulting Evangeline, portraying Y/n as controlling and domineering. "You're the future of this business, Evangeline," he would say, planting seeds of ambition and discord.
Fueled by Alexander's influence, Evangeline confronted Y/n during a heated family meeting about the business's direction. "Why are you keeping me in the dark, Y/n?" Evangeline demanded, her voice trembling with emotion. "I deserve to be involved in every decision!"
Y/n, taken aback by Evangeline's sudden hostility, tried to explain. "Evangeline, I've always valued your input, but some decisions require swift action. I never intended to keep you in the dark." Y/n would say sternly, trying to keep her composure.
But Alexander's words echoed in Evangeline's mind, clouding her judgment and fueling her resolve to assert herself in the business. The once-unbreakable bond between the sisters fractured under the weight of manipulation and misunderstandings, orchestrated by Alexander's cunning tactics.
Evangline’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she and Alexander stood before Y/n, their announcement hanging in the air like a storm about to break.
“We’re engaged, Y/n,” Evangeline exclaimed, her voice filled with joy. “And we believe it’s time for me to take over the business. After all, I’ll be married soon and would want to pass it down to our children someday.”
Y/n’s eyes widened in disbelief as Evangeline and Alexander stood before her, their engagement bombshell hanging heavily in the air. The room fell silent as Y/n processed the news, her shock palpable.
“You’re getting engaged without even discussing it with me first?” Y/n’s voice cracked with incredulity, her tone carrying a mix of surprise and hurt.
Evangeline, caught off guard by Y/n’s reaction, tried to explain. “Y/n, we thought you would be happy for us,” she said, her voice tinged with disappointment.
But Y/n’s shock quickly turned into frustration and anger. “Happy for you?” Y/n’s tone sharpened, her words laced with bitterness. “How can I be happy when you’re making decisions that affect our entire family without even consulting me?”
Evangeline’s expression faltered, her eyes filling with tears. “But Y/n, I love Alexander, and we want to build a future together,” she pleaded.
Y/n’s emotions boiled over, her hurt turning into harsh words aimed at Evangeline. “Love blinds you, Evangeline,” Y/n snapped, her voice rising. “You’re being manipulated, and you don’t even see it!”
Evangeline’s tears spilled over as Y/n’s words hit home. “I’m not being manipulated, Y/n,” she protested, her voice trembling.
But Y/n’s frustration didn’t stop there. Her gaze turned to Alexander, her tone dripping with disdain. “And you,” Y/n directed her anger at him, “using Evangeline to get to our family fortune, shamelessly preying on her innocence and trust.”
Alexander’s facade of charm faltered for a moment, his expression betraying a hint of unease. “I assure you, Y/n, my intentions are genuine,” he tried to placate her.
But Y/n wasn’t buying it. “Genuine? You’re nothing but a leech, Alexander,” Y/n’s words cut through the tension, her anger simmering beneath the surface. “I won’t let you manipulate our family for your selfish gain.”
As the tension escalates during the argument, Evangeline turns to Y/n, her eyes filled with confusion and hurt. “What do you mean, Y/n?” she asks, her voice trembling with emotion.
Y/n’s expression hardens, her resolve firm as she faces Evangeline. “The whole family can see it, Evangeline,” Y/n’s tone is resolute, her words cutting through the air. “Alexander is just after our money, and he’s using you to get to it.”
Evangeline’s eyes widen in shock, disbelief evident on her face. “No, that’s not true,” she protests, her voice tinged with desperation.
But Y/n doesn’t back down. “Open your eyes, Evangeline,” Y/n urges, her voice filled with urgency. “He drove Arthur away from you, manipulated him to keep you to himself. He’s tearing our family apart for his own selfish motives.”
The weight of Y/n’s words hangs heavily in the air, the truth of the situation sinking in for Evangeline amidst the chaos of emotions and accusations.
In response to Y/n’s accusations, Alexander turns to Evangeline with a dismissive smirk, his tone dripping with condescension. “Evangeline, Y/n is lying,” he asserts confidently. “She’s never been in love, so she wouldn’t even know what she’s talking about.”
Evangeline, torn between her trust in Alexander and the unsettling doubts planted by Y/n’s words, looks to him for reassurance. “But Alexander, I love you,” she insists, her voice wavering with uncertainty.
Alexander’s charm kicks into full gear as he takes Evangeline’s hand, his gaze filled with faux affection. “And I love you, my dear,” he replies smoothly. “Don’t let Y/n’s jealousy and lies cloud your judgment. We have a future together, away from all this drama.”
As the tension reaches its peak, Y/n’s resolve remains unyielding as she delivers a stark ultimatum to Evangeline. “If you choose to marry him, Evangeline, I will never speak to you again,” Y/n’s voice is firm, her words carrying the weight of finality. “You will be disowned from the family and removed from the business entirely.”
Evangeline’s eyes widen in shock and hurt, her voice barely above a whisper as she asks, “Why are you doing this to me, Y/n?”
Y/n’s expression softens for a moment, but her determination doesn’t waver. “I’m thinking of the family business, Evangeline,” Y/n’s tone is unwavering, her words laced with a mix of sadness and pragmatism. “I’m thinking of what will benefit us, not silly emotions like love that can be manipulated and used against us.”
The gravity of Y/n’s decision hangs heavily in the air, the rift between the sisters widening as Evangeline grapples with the harsh reality of Y/n’s ultimatum.
Evangeline's voice trembles with a mix of defiance and sorrow as she tells Y/n, "I'm going to marry Alexander anyway, Y/n." Her eyes reflect a sense of resignation, knowing the rift her decision will create between her and her sister.
Y/n receives the wedding invitation in the mail, her heart heavy as she reads Evangeline's words inviting them to the wedding. Despite the hurt in Evangeline's voice, Y/n remains steadfast in her decision not to attend, unwilling to condone a union she strongly opposes. This choice further deepens the rift between the sisters, leaving Evangeline feeling the pain of their absence on her special day.
“You don’t need her anyway.” Alexander says to Evangeline when she tells him how hurt she was her sibling did not show up.
In 1901, tragedy strikes as Evangeline dies during childbirth. The funeral is held, and Y/n, Arthur, and Evangeline’s only child, a son, attend. However, Alexander chooses not to attend and sends his son with the nanny instead. Y/n isn’t surprised, but she did debate going to their estate to tell Alexander how much of a horrible husband he was.
In 1915, Y/n tragically dies from poisoning due to alcohol. The family faces yet another loss, marking the end of an era filled with turmoil and strained relationships. Arthur is the last sibling left, the head of the business, and serves out his life fulfilling Y/n’s visions, making her the face of the family name forever.
“You always did only worry about yourself.” Evangeline thought to herself as she began her dessert.
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin alastor#alastor x reader#hazbin charlie#hazbin demon#alastor#hazbin vox#hazbin hotel rosie#hazbin hotel#hellaverse#vox x reader#yandere alastor x reader#yandere alastor#yandere vox x reader#yandere vox#alastor vs vox#isuckatwritingsobenice infernal shadows#isuckatwritingsobenice
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yandere! holy knight with saintess!reader scenario [part three]
warnings: obsessive behavior, profane language, religious themes, implied manipulation, physical harassment.
There may be possible triggers in this story.
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Part One
Part Two
Epilogue
Hey guys, welcome to part three of this collaborated series with @deathmetalunicorn1! I am currently on break and won't be back until the 14th, but I figured that since I had recently finished this, might as well post it for everyone to enjoy! I will make a post when I come back, so no worries, I'm not going anywhere yet~!
On another note, please keep in mind that no bullying is tolerated on here. If there is, then this segment and the other chapters will be removed in its entirety.
So with that being said, sit back, relax, and let's see what will happen in today's episode :)
Yoo Kyung-Mi had been born with beauty and was taught to use it to her advantage. Her mother knew what she was talking about. Why else did she remarry a wealthy man and make their lives so much easier? It was so much better than barely getting by on their own, trapped in a dingy apartment and worrying if there will be enough food money until the next paycheck. Kyung-Mi went to university, found work at a gaming company and subsequently, a shadow to use to elevate her reputation. A lackey really, but she preferred the term shadow. It sounded much nicer.
Her shadow was another game designer; instead of being the literal, living example of a dowdy-looking office worker, her shadow wore nice clothes. She always treated everyone equally in their department, helped whenever she could with their next project and had a nasty temper when provoked. Yoo Kyung-Mi found this out the hard way when she borrowed a coworker’s proposal and presented it at the next meeting, elevating her status as the director in charge of Labyrinth of Love. Her shadow had the fucking nerve to show her the security footage of her being at that extra’s computer, downloading the sample from the desktop and storing it in a flashdrive.
She tried to deny it, playing the cute card of forgetting to mention the extra as being a collaborator because she was so stressed about the meeting before telling the shadow to make sure to finish her proposal on time because time was money. And then the fucking bitch grabbed her by the hair and slammed her forehead against the wall! Her, the goddamned director! She could fire the shadow’s ass if she wanted to! This was workplace harassment!
“You’re not the director yet, you idiot.” The shadow whispered in the shell of her ear. “That was an informal announcement, so you’re still an equal amongst us commoners. Honestly Kyung-Mi, when are you going to stop masquerading people’s creations as your own? I’ve told you back in university, during those seminars, that it would bite you in the ass. But you don’t listen.”
“You wouldn’t be anywhere without me! You cannot live without me!” She spat. Then the shadow backed off, leaving the office as there hadn’t been a confrontation in the first place. Kyung-Mi didn’t know if the shadow was fucking mental or just didn’t give a shit about getting laid off….but she needed her shadow. It was her shadow’s creativity, like everyone else in the company, that helped MorpheusTech make millions from their products. Without them, there wouldn’t be any money. And Kyung-Mi wouldn’t have any ‘inspiration’ to elevate her status in the company. Tit for tat.
On Monday morning, the shadow presented to the board with a game of her own. And everyone fucking loved it more than hers. Claimed that it was a breath of fresh air from the classic otome game formula. More interactions with the extra characters plus the main cast? And your choices will either boost the gamer’s stats like the Affection Meter, Morale, Reputation, or lower them? It would only be available on their digital store, and they could offer free demos to TubeTubers who have played their products in the past? Sold. The Labyrinth of Love was put on indefinite hiatus. Greenlight Fly Me To The Moon. Give her shadow everything she needs to make sure this project is a success. The company was counting on you, Kyung-Mi. Honored beauty.
So she did. She stayed late at the office when it was past time for her to go home or go on a date. She missed her massage appointments, her precious Sundays had spent at home working on fine-tuning the game mechanics instead of shopping. Her toys started to lose interest in her. Yet she preserved because she was the heroine in this world and she would not lose.
But the final straw that broke the camel back had been all the shadow’s fault.
Kyuing-Mi had been eyeing the gorgeous hunk Young-Min from Human Resources for a while. Tall, dark, and looked absolutely ripped in that three-piece Armani suit of his. Oh, did she mention that he was rich and super sweet? Well, now you know. When she had finally mustered the courage to approach him and confess her feelings for him (maybe use him to get rid of a certain someone), she found him with the shadow. He asked the shadow if they could get a cup of coffee later, averting his eyes and looking bashfully at the shadow. His face resembled a tomato when the shadow accepted the invitation, when the shadow smiled at him, and left to go on their break.
Honestly, the shadow should have realized that coveting someone who didn’t belong to her meant being bludgeoned from behind with a stapler. Kyung-Mi will admit that she did….she was a little angry. But if the shadow is dead, the villainess is dead, then that means she has finally everything. Not. She lost everything and got hit by a truck while crossing a busy intersection, desperately trying to search for a job before she lost her townhouse.
Yet there was always a light at the end of the tunnel, right? Why else would she be here, possessing the heroine of Fly Me To The Moon, Cosette Lovelace? Sure, her character is supposed to be a gamer who got sucked into here and must clear it as a redeemed villainess, but where is the fun in that? All Kyung-Mi wanted to do was pursue after her bias, Sir Palamedes the second-in-command of the Holy Temple’s paladins.
Of all the capture targets that were created in the shadow’s game, this is the one she had spent most of the time designing and writing both tragic and smutty endings with him. Thank God the shadow never knew that Sir Palamedes’ character concept looked exactly like Young-Min, from his mannerisms right down his little tic of fiddling with his hands when he was nervous.
Obsessed? No, she was observant, thank you.
With the help of the Affection Level System, her own little playthrough guide, she was able to achieve the objectives needed to enter the Holy Temple of Aesir and unlock Sir Palamedes’ route. Everything was going smoothly until that damned extra, Harry or Harrow, had stopped her from staking her claim on Sir Palamedes. She threw something in her face, and she passed out on the floor. When she, Cosette, regained consciousness, it was almost nightfall.
Swearing under her breath, she scrambled upright and smoothed out her grass stained skirts before all but running towards the cloisters leading back to her new private quarters. However, from seemingly out of nowhere, two older Sisters flanked her, blocking her path. She was about to turn up the innocent charm, claiming that she hadn’t meant to fall asleep under the tree with a cute smile when both of them wordlessly grabbed by the shoulders and hauled her into a cell. A fucking cell! Her! The heroine!
She asked for food, and was given bread with water. When she was cold, she received a blanket and was left alone until morning. The same Sisters came back, grabbed her again and took her to the sanctuary. The pews were filled, every Brother and Sister was in attendance. The paladins circled around the altar. Her precious High Priest was there, and was her bias. So that fucking extra Harry.
She frowned. “My flock, what is the meaning of this -” She didn’t get a chance to finish her question because a bolt of white-hot pain seared through her body. What in the world?! She looked down at the floor and there were runes under her feet, then glared back at the Sisters balefully. They had pushed her into a magic circle. How dare they do this to her?!
Staggering to her feet, she turned her attention to the High Priest. “Father, why am I being subjected to this treatment? What have I done to you, to this congregation?!”
“You dare to ask such a thing when the crimes against our Brothers and Sisters are so heinous that I cannot repeat them?” Harry said. She looked like shit, honestly, and she probably would look worse if she had that stupid blindfold removed.
Yoo Kyung-Mi had never seen this character in the game, even in the demo trails….so why does Harry look so damned familiar?
She watched Harry step forward from behind the altar, past the High Priest and Sir Palamedes. She walked down the steps, and stopped just a few feet away from the magic circle.
“You know what you have done, Sister Esther. No…You are not worthy of being called a Sister of this Holy Temple. You are a heretic, a liar, and an adulterous beast who has dared to try and defile one of us by using an Asmodian Seed. Where and how did you acquire it?”
“I have no idea what you are talking about-” That was when the pain began again. “You-” And again. Fuck, this hurts. It really hurts.
“Please answer the question and do not try to be clever with your answers lest you actually enjoy being in pain.” Harry said peevishly. “You know what it is because you were the one who had implanted inside Sir Palamedes. Is this not true?” Harry raised her voice. “Were you affected by this wickedness, Sir Palamedes?”
Her precious bias nodded, his beautiful violet eyes hard and cold. “I was, Lady Harrowhark, and swear by the Oath of Fidelity that I was its intended victim. I dare not think what would have happened, if you had not been there to save me.”
“You heard him. Answer truthfully this time.”
So she did. She spat in the bitch’s face. “Allow me to ask you a question, Harry. Who the fuck are you to give me orders?”
Applauded gasps and murmurs bounced across the temple’s walls. One Sister fainted from hearing such profane language, having to be carried out by two of her closest Brothers.
But Harry didn’t react.
Instead, she withdrew a handkerchief from her robes pockets and carefully wiped away the spit. Once she was done, she pocketed the dirty rag. Then she lifted her hands up and moved them to the back of her head, untying the mother-of-pearl cloth. She pulled it down, and two eyes that sparked like a pair of sapphires stared right at her. Sapphires. Eyes. Cosette, Yoo Kyung-Mi, felt her heart drop into her stomach at seeing those eyes.
The eyes that belonged to the shadow. The eyes Young-Min said were so beautiful that they took his breath away.
“I am Reverend Sister Harrowhark, God’s Beloved. I am the Possessor of His Eyes -”
“WHY CAN’T YOU JUST FUCKING DIE ALREADY?!?” Kyung-Mi screamed. “YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME, STOLE FROM ME, AND YOU HAVE THE GODDAMNED NERVE TO LEAVE A PIECE OF YOURSELF IN THIS GAME?!”
“Heretic -”
“YES, I GAVE IT TO HIM! I GAVE SIR PALAMEDES THE ASOMEDIAN SEED BECAUSE I WANTED HIM! IF HE WERE DEFILED, HE WOULD HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO MARRY ME, AND I WOULD FINALLY BEAT YOU! YOU WERE ALWAYS MY SHADOW! YOU WERE NEVER SUPPOSED TO COVET WHAT WAS MINE, YET YOU KEPT TAKING EVERYTHING AWAY FROM ME! IS THAT A GOOD ENOUGH ANSWER, YOU BITCH?!”
Harrowhark’s mouth closed, tightening into a thin line before she averted her gaze towards the choir pews, where three cloaked figures sat in silence. “Does this outburst suffice as a confession, Your Imperial Highness?” She asked them.
The one on the right stood up, pulling back his hood and revealing himself to be, indeed, The Glorious Sun of the Helux Empire, Emperor Maximus IV. A tall, broad-shouldered man with golden hair and possessed one ruby eye. He had lost his left one in a war. That was all she knew about him.
But seeing the identities of his companions, once they pulled back their hoods, that brought Kyung-Mi’s muddled brain back to reality: her parents, Viscount and Viscountess Lovelace. Shit. Fuck. FUCK!
“It does. Words cannot express my anger and disgust at the thought that such a heinous crime would be enacted in the House of Aesir. Allow me, Your Holiness, to carry out her punishment here and now.”
Harrowhark frowned. “Your Imperial Highness -”
“I am already here, Your Holiness. And I have only exercised my royal authority once since I ascended to the throne twenty years ago. If it makes you uncomfortable to do it in the presence of the congregation, I am more than happy to privately announce these crimes in the palace’s interrogation chambers. It is your choice, Your Holiness.” He, the most powerful man in the Empire, lowered his head to Harrowhark.
Harrowhark sighed. “I beseech you to not address me in such a manner Your Imperial Highness, nor to humble yourself in my presence. In the Holy Temple of Aesir, we are equal under His Eye. Please, raise your head.” The Emperor did. “In regards to the heretic…she must never darken the footsteps of these sacred grounds again, or anywhere else. What happens within the circle of nobility is no concern of mine. The church cannot be intertwined with matters of the state. We are from entirely different worlds, but we must work together to ensure that our people live in peace. Is this a satisfactory answer, Your Imperial Highness?”
Kyung-Mi choked on her saliva. It would be awful to be separated from her bias, but to also have her silver spoon being taken from her too? She did not want to spend her second life struggling to make a living! She is supposed to be the most beloved person in this game! Everything is supposed to go her way, not Harry’s!
She watched in anxious anticipation as the Emperor, The High Priest, and her parents huddled together, speaking softly until they separated. The Viscount and Viscountess stepped to the side as the others stepped forward.
The Head Priest glanced around the congregation, raising his arms as he spoke. “Cosette Lovelace, daughter of Viscount Lovelace. For your crimes and heresy against this most holy place, you are excommunicated from the Holy Temple of Aesir until the end of your days. May Aesir forgive you, because…in my heart, at this moment, I cannot bring myself to do so.”
He then stepped back, and the Emperor stepped forward.
The Emperor inhaled a deep breath, closing his eye for a moment before addressing the congregation. As he did so, palace guards entered from opposite sides of the chapel near the altar.
“I, Emperor Maximus IV, hereby use my authority in the Holy Temple of Aesir under the witness of all those in attendance. I condemn you to live the rest of your days in prison, in a cell with no windows. You tried to bring darkness to this sacred sanctuary, therefore, you will spend the rest of your days in darkness.”
Kyung-Mi’s knees buckled, collapsing onto the carpeted floor as she stared at the Emperor in shock. No. No, this can’t be happening! I’m the heroine! I’m supposed to live a life of luxury! I can’t go to jail! When she saw her parents descend down the stairs, her anxiety slowly dissipated into hope. No. Not yet! They love me! They wouldn’t allow their only child to starve on the streets like a beggar or rot until she was an old hag, right?!
CRACK.
Kyung-Mi’s face stung from the slap she’d just received from her mother. Quivering, she touched the reddening cheek, peering through the curtain of her blue hair at her parents. Her mother was sobbing quietly, covering her face in her hands as her father wrapped his arm around his wife’s quivering shoulders.
“You are no daughter of mine.” That was all he said before he left alongside his sobbing wife. They left her. They fucking abandoned her when she needed him the most, these….these bastards! WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO HER? WHY DOES EVERYTHING HAVE TO GO THE SHADOW’S WAY? IS IT SO AWFUL TO HAVE A HAPPILY EVER AFTER OF HER OWN?!
Then she screamed. She screamed and kicked and cried as the Emperor’s guards tied ropes around her wrists, dragging her down the aisle, towards the doors. Kyung-Mi looked over her shoulder, tears spilling down her face as she stared at Sir Palamedes, hoping Young-Mi would understand she made a mistake and just wanted to be with him, please please save her.
But he did not look at her with tenderness and devotion as he had in the demo version of the game. Sir Palamedes stood rigidly by Harrowhark’s side, a hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his eyes cold and guarded.
It was over. She had lost again. Fuck. FUCK!
©️do not repost or use any of the characters depicted here without the author’s permission. forbidden-sunlight, 2024
Taglist: @sweetbatherodonkey @lxdymoon0357 @certifiedsimpinggalore @queenmimis @amidst-the-tempest @mochinon-yah @tonightwrites @yandere-dark-cupid @average-yandere-enjoyer @thatstrangesheep @faux-ecrivain @cassanderasblog @navierkalani
#forbidden-sunlight#yandere x reader#yandere male#fem!reader#yandere#ns.fw#yandere manhwa x reader#yandere oc#yandere oc x reader#tw religious themes#cw religious themes#cw obsessive behavior#tw obsessive behavior#cw harassment#tw harassment#18+ mdni#mdni#minors do not interact#minors dont look#no minors please
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// major warning for murder, discrimination, and murder amongst transgender youth
im trying to find the part where the three girls, all older than them, are charged for murder? or are those girls not going to have to deal with any sort of represcussions???
is this going to be another case of "let's keep these people's identities private!!" or what. are we ignoring the fact that those girls bashed nex's head against the bathroom floor meanwhile nobody helped before, during, or after the situation??? because the media did the same thing with brianna ghey, they refused to release information on her killers until what, a year later? why are we working so hard to protect persecutors but not the ones being persecuted?
there are so many things wrong with this situation, let's start with the fact that an ambulance wasn't called upon nex being found? those three girls had quite literally banged their head against the bathroom floor NUMEROUS times, where was your sense of urgency upon finding a SOPHOMORE, A HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT WHO IS NO OLDER THAN 16, beaten on the bathroom floor??
we are talking about a 16 year old, somebody with a whole life ahead of them. nex had so much to live for and now their blood is on your hands and i hope that you feel guilty. i don't even think enraged is the word i am looking for in this situation, it's a feeling far beyond rage.
as a society we truly need to do better because jfc. i have to live my life in fear everyday, so do my friends, the people i love, and thousands of others - we aren't scary, we are scared.
rest well, nex, they will never forget your name ❤️
adding onto this post because i still have so much to say: nex was no different from you and i, they took interest in the same things we do. nex liked the walking dead, minecraft, and their cat, zeus. but now nex won't be able to partake in the things they love because of how f'ed up society is. the fact that america is perfectly fine with murdering innocent people on a daily basis truly tells you all you need to know. we are fighting a war we will never win because people refuse to accept the fact that trans folk just want to live their lives, almost like everybody else!!
i read in a reblog that nex was twospirit and i just wanted to add that, sorry if it seemed as if i was trying to leave that out, i wasn't aware. that doesn't change anything though and my point still stands.
we are not scary, we are scared.
2/25/24: please read what @youareprobablywrong said in the reblogs, it also includes ways to actually take charge and help prevent future events like this
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What would Blair Waldorf do?
Aesthetic
Blair's aesthetic is dark academia. She loves classic books, pays attention to details, prefers classics and luxury and respects the rules of high society. Its look symbolizes refinements, culture, elegance and classic charm with a chic and timeless touch.
Style
Blair's style oscillates between light feminine and dark feminine depending on the occasion. She likes dresses and skirts, light prints and delicate textures like lace or satin. But she also knows how to adopt a more sophisticated attitude thanks to materials like tweed or leather.
Mindset
Forget boys. As Blair said: “You need to be cold to be a queen.” Forget the boys, keep your eyes on the prize. » Romantic interests are just distractions and will waste a lot of your time when you're not where you want to be. Work and ignore the noise. Blair's wisdom extends to his approach to education. Follow his example by having clear goals from a young age. Turn off distractions (yes, that includes your phone!) while studying and get your homework done quickly. In doing so, you will be well prepared for success, just like Blair on his path to Yale Law School. Don't fall into the trap of emotions, use your mind. Use your mind, not your heart. "She likes to see the best in people. I like to see the truth." Exactly, you need to start acting according to logic. Set clear goals. Maintain discipline in studies and personal life and radiate elegance. As Blair herself once said: “I am not a step on the path. I am a destination. » Focus on your goals and avoid distractions. Believe in yourself. You must believe that you are capable of doing anything others never underestimate you and always try before giving up. Once again, the world will prove that it can do anything it can. You can do better, trust me.
Hobbies and talents
Blair's hobbies and talents are numerous and reflect his social status:
Fashion and aesthetics: this has always been a clear passion for Blair. She loves creating sophisticated looks.
The organization of events: Blair excels in the art of hosting. She organizes large social evenings where all the details are thought of.
Foreign languages: she speaks several languages fluently, which she learned during numerous stays abroad.
Politics: Blair is interested in world affairs.
Reading: Blair reads a lot and likes to educate her self.
༝༚༝༚ océane
#blair waldorf#dream life#dream girl#it girl#high maintenance#it girl energy#self development#self love#becoming that girl#self care#gossip girl#study tips#self health#self confidence#self improvement#clean girl#main character#makeup#romantizing school
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Okay first off, obsessed with your platonic Alastor angst about him asking Charlie to deliver an old toy to heaven, because I absolutely LOVE evil monster men who secretly have a special soft spot for a special person. Waiting patiently if you ever plan on continuing that little Drabble :3c
and on the topic of Alastor secretly having a soft spot for his spawn, Alastor actually being very active and hands on in his spawns life despite telling everyone they were just a fun little experiment he brewed up in a crockpot, making sure they have music lessons because every fine demon/demoness has some musical abilities or spending one on one time together, reading books, playing chess (an important skill, chess is good for the mind), doting on them when no one’s looking
Spawn can be seen as an oc of mine OR a self insert of you <3 i try to keep the description of spawn vague however: they do look like Alastor, being made in his own image/likeness n all yk
He never got the chance to raise a child before his death, and this was certainly way different than raising a human child.
It started off small, with spawn asking for piano lessons after hearing alastor sing one too many times
Then it was asking them to read a story with them, or even a random book they saw on his shelves that home many many books, ones with words he has to help them pronounce
Seeing rosie, spawn decided they wanted to be fancy like her! Auntie rosie was quite happy to hear this and started teaching them ways to be a refined demon/demoness
On one particular event, Alastor, out of boredom was playing chess with one of the shadows, until of course his spawn walked in and asked him if they could play too
It was annoying, having to teach someone, a child nonetheless to play something as difficult as chess but, when they got the hang of it
As much as he didnt wanna admit it, he felt a sense of fulfillment when he successfully taught it
Perhaps he was getting a little too attached?
No, never
Not even when he would give them a genuine smile when he thinks noone is looking
Not when he himself would give them a hug
Not even when he takes care of it
This little experiment is going too far, he thinks, he forgets this thing isnt actually…his child.
But when it pulls at his coat, it being the only thing they can reach, and ask him if he could go on a walk with them in cannibal colony to visit their “Auntie Rosie”, he just cant seem to say no
Edit: prt two of the platonic alastor and his angel child is up!!!!
#hazbin hotel#alastor x child reader#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor x reader#alastor#hazbin hotel x child reader#hazbin hotel x reader#rosie hazbin hotel#rosie hh#rosie#hazbin hotel rosie
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Mr. & Mrs. Hunt (Chapter 2)
Series Summary: Two of the most stubborn people in the group partnered together for an undercover mission are also the two people with the most hatred for each other, so what could go wrong? Or is it, what COULDN’T go wrong?…
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger Reader
Word Count: 3900+
A/N Note: You guys... Thank you for the overwhelming support on this series. You guys are the sweetest :) I've loved reading your series and promise I love them; just haven't had the chance to respond! Again, thank you for the love, as it's all turned back to you!
As for the chapter... Let's make it more fun (otherwise known as interesting) ;)
_________________
Bucky’s POV
Hidden bugs weren’t new business to us, so after disposing of the picture frame, they gifted us with a note saying, “For your new home, and your first picture in it! ;)”... It was an easy ‘accidental’ drop.
However, quickly after that, wouldn’t you know it? A new basket showed up on our porch with another set of welcome-to-the-neighborhood gifts from the whole neighborhood this time…
Y/N had ‘accidentally’ placed the newly potted plant, that they had somehow added a very impressively hidden camera on, too close to the edge of the entryway table, so when she came through the door quickly with her arms full of more boxes, the pot was no longer usable. Shame… We did buy our own pot for said plant, so we still got a new piece of greenery without the bugs.
After those two failed attempts, we hoped our show of clumsiness warded off the assholes and made us less intimidating. And yes, I use that word because I could read easily from our first meeting that they were sizing us up. Analyzing our act and manipulating themselves into our lives in a careful yet planned manner.
For extra measure on the clumsy showcase, Y/N drove into the trashcans I had forgotten to pull to the curb, making a public display of her character’s clumsiness. Though I later learned she was actually just pissed that I forgot to put them out and found a way for me to pay the consequences in our squabble on the lawn.
A squabble that started out a hundred percent authentic and then turned into a fake makeup season when the neighbors peaked their heads out.
“This jughead would forget his head if it weren’t on his shoulders,” Y/N slapped my chest before patting it harshly and smiling at the seventy-year-old next-door neighbor, Gertrude, who always happened to find her rose bushes interesting, only when people were outside.
She smiled and laughed at Y/N’s wide grin before waving her on as she snipped a few thorns.
“God, I hate it here,” Y/N said through her teeth, holding her fake smile as she walked past me into the house.
A few more preplanned acts happened while we were outside to show the community that our accidental breaking of their bugs was just that—accidental. It was not planned and discovered at all.
It had been two weeks so far, and we’d already been invited to a food truck social, a street parade for a family leaving the neighborhood, and an outdoor movie night. All events you would have thought had the same planning committee as the MET Gala with how thorough they were… At least, that's what Y/N said, and I choose to believe that it holds some form of significance.
Tonight, we went over to another couple's house that was high up in the HOA group for a neighborhood barbeque, one where Y/N’s damn lilac tennis dress she had worn to workout with a neighbor, made more than half the dads and men too old and married to be staring, struggle to keep their eyes off her.
I had told her that keeping a hand on her during most of the party was for the act, but genuinely, I didn’t care for how the men of the group gawked at her. Something gave me a bad feeling about it. And I didn’t understand why Y/N wasn’t phased at all or even slightly uneasy, considering she was just as trained as me to assess and sense all that attention.
As soon as we were behind closed doors back in our secure home, my first question was, “Did you really not feel their eyes on you?”
She was in the middle of taking off her shoes, talking about some information she had gotten from a group of stay-at-home wives, something related to our mission, but I couldn’t seem to wrap my head around how unphased she was with the unnerving type of attention she was getting there.
“What?” She paused as she bent to take off a tennis shoe.
“All those guys, the husbands, and pervs at the cookout. You didn’t notice them staring at you?” I asked again, rolling my sleeves of button-down I had on up to my elbow.
She stared at me for a moment and then rolled her eyes as if she had figured out where I was going with this. Spoiler: she was far off the mark.
“Listen, if you’re saying that thanks to this dress, which, yes, is a little short, but who the hell cares, is the reason why men were,” she straightened, kicking off both her shoes fluently, now only in socks. “Gawking at me, as you put it-.”
“I didn’t say that,” I straightened, furrowing my eyebrows.
“Oh, but you did,” she sassed with a shrug, continuing. “Under your breath when you came up, and you staked your claim by never taking your arm away from my waist for the night.”
“I didn’t say that,” I shook my head. I said it in my head, but I hadn’t said that out loud… Had I?
“Ugh, whether you did or didn’t, I could tell you were judging,” she huffed, rolled her shoulders, and walked past me to the kitchen, going straight to the fridge.
It took me a minute, but I figured out where her mind had gone. “I was judging them, Y/N,” I shook my head. “I was judging the horny, married, and dusty-ass men that couldn’t keep their damn tongue from falling to the floor with you in the vicinity. Like their wives had deprived them of any kind of physical touch for the last decade, and they couldn’t keep it in their pants any longer.”
I realized I may have explained more of my thought process than I intended, but she shut the fridge door she had hidden behind and turned to me, scanning, assessing.
“You were jealous.” The corner of her lip raised at her statement.
“What?” I scoffed. “No, loser,” I scoffed again, and clearly, I wasn’t selling my answer because she didn’t lose her growing grin. “I just took notice of how much attention you got, and it concerned me that the ideas most of those men were having were far from civil ones.”
She stared at me for a minute, and I felt uncomfortable in my own skin as she weighed her options regarding how she wanted to react. We still had plenty of fights, but they have been somewhat decreasing lately, and I was hoping we could keep that streak going.
Her assessing stopped, and her grin grew again. “Awe, the Tinman does have a heart.”
And she ruined it. Surprise, surprise.
“It’s sweet that you care, old man,” she twisted the lid to the drink she had pulled out of the fridge and took a swig before looking at me. “But that’s just a day in the life of a woman. Nothing new to me or anyone with the double X chromosomes.” She shrugged nonchalantly.
“I mean, obviously, people look at you,” I started, and she balanced her elbows on the counter before resting her chin on her fist. I continued before I realized my wording. “Before you-”
“Obviously?” She emphasized my word choice. “Keeping notes on an awful lot of things lately, huh, Buck?” she whispered my name like it was a secret, and I knew it was for the odd case someone could hear us, but something about her tone made my chest freeze. “Tell me, what else do you notice…?” She tilted her head one way as she stared at me.
I wasn’t going to lie and say her words didn’t flustered me, but as a reflex, I jumped back into the normal banter.
“You’re not funny, jackass,” I deadpanned and turned on my heel to walk away.
“Oh, stop being such a baby,” she shouted after me, and I heard her sock-clad feet slide on the hardwoods to catch up with me. “Listen, I think it’s nice you’re taking notice of stuff like this. Most men never pay attention to those kinds of things because they don’t have to. It’s not really a normal day-to-day experience for them, so they don’t get it. They don’t HAVE to get it.”
I stopped and turned in my march, and she slid into me from just two steps behind me. I caught her easily, bracing my hands on her biceps to steady her. She let out a huff of air as our chests flushed to each other and then looked up at me.
“You’re murder strut is too fast for me to keep up with,” she mumbled, scrunching her nose in a relaxed way.
I closed my eyes for a minute but didn’t let go of her before I channeled back my seriousness.
“I’ve learned men are assholes, trust me. In this field, we come across some of the worst misogynistic weasels to exist. Wear whatever you want. You have scary dog privileges now. The attire issue isn't what I was getting at,” I replied, thinking of the reference the Parker kid had explained to me recently.
Her smile was unlike any I had the pleasure to be on the receiving end of, and I immediately mentally captured it, worried that I’d never experience the genuineness she was sharing with me in this moment again.
“Scary dog privileges, huh? Someone’s been brushing up on their TikTok trends.” She laughed, scanning my face as I scanned hers. “Peter finally invested in his version of Duolingo? This one labeled new-age-slang-for-100-years-and-older?”
“Actually called, Born-in-1910’s-and-on-the-comeback-of-a-70-year-coma-new-age-lingo. Very helpful,” I retorted, and the surprise on her face as she laughed at me made my grip on her soften, my thumb unconsciously running over the bone on her wrist.
The action brought both of our eyes to the feeling, and in the next second, we had three feet between us.
“I’m going to go take a shower.” Her rush to get around me in the narrow hall caused her to brush along my arm, and it was like the sparks that ignited when I held her tried to reach out for each other again in the brief contact.
“I’ll be in the kitchen,” I grumbled, walking quickly in the opposite direction.
____________________
Y/N’s POV
The last two weeks have been frustrating, but somehow, Bucky and I have learned we work together surprisingly well. We still had our bickering fights and annoying quarrels, but stick us in a house for a few weeks, and we realized we did well at balancing each other out.
Where I hated doing the dishes, he made sure they were done every night. Where he hated doing laundry, I folded and sorted the linens and clothes. I hated cooking, and he somehow was really good at it. I loved to bake when we had free time, and he loved to taste test. I sucked at most things gardening-wise, and he had shown me how to prune overgrown flowers in our gardening bed. Bucky sucked at interior decorating, so I was in charge of making our fake abode look like a real one.
Overall, we do pretty well, considering we hate each other's guts. Ok, well… I don’t necessarily hate his guts, even if I act it. I just have a very low tolerance for his bullshit and don’t mask my frustrations when they hit their limits. As for being a fake wife to him where he has to treat me well… He’s been a picture-perfect husband from a suburban wife’s perspective.
The only thing we’ve successfully avoided that I was worried about is sharing the same bed.
After confirming with the higher-ups that our house was bug-free, we claimed our own rooms (me in the master, of course) and set up our own space. Keeping the facade of a happy married couple outside of those rooms and the house was easy, but I dreaded the day we would have to show more affection and closeness than what we already had.
So far, a kiss on the cheek, holding hands, a hug from behind, and a normal amount of PDA that showed we were in our honeymoon phase yet did not want to make others fully uncomfortable did the job enough. But after Bethanne commented about when we planned on having kids, I figured we might need to bump up our act since she gave a passive comment about us being ‘rather tamed for a newlywed couple.’
Before I could bring up the comment to Bucky once we got home, he seemed more bothered by the men at the party than anything.
I didn’t expect him to notice such a minute thing, but if there was one thing I had learned about Bucky these last few weeks, it’s that he’s very attentive to details I wouldn’t expect him to be on.
Then, to further my confusion about the situation, something seemed different in our intimate hallway space run-in, and both of us scurried away as if the touch of each other burned.
After my shower, I got dressed in my pajamas and heard the TV still on in the living room, where Bucky tended to station himself for a few hours before bed. Well, his bedtime. Another thing about us was that I wasn’t much of a night owl, but I did appreciate knowing someone was on alert while I slept. And even if he didn’t do it for that reason, I’m sure, I liked hearing the TV still on when I tended to wake up in the middle of the night. I felt safer…
“Hey,” I leaned against the wall coming into the living room and saw that he had Brooklyn Nine-Nine on with a computer sat in his lap.
He looked up and gave me a quick head nod before going back to the screen in front of him. “What’s up?”
“Just needed to fill you in on some of the things I learned at the cookout,” I let out a yawn as the day caught up with me and moved to the single chair across from him on the couch.
“Hit me,” he rolled his shoulders back, never looking away from the blue light.
“Don’t ask for things you don’t really want,” I teased, and he looked above the screen at me with a glance that seemed to be holding back a smile before rolling his eyes.
“What’d you learn?” he followed up with.
I went on to tell him about the neighborhood drama. All things that may or may not have any major plays to our mission, but information nonetheless.
“Did you ask any of them about work?” Bucky asked once I had covered most everything.
Our undercover jobs were simple. I worked from home as a data entry clerk. Something boring that Charolette Hunt has been hoping to get out of and find her passion. All this led to me asking around about job connections and if there was anything I could swap over to for a ‘more exciting work life,’ otherwise known as drug trafficking jobs if they were available.
As for Beau Hunt, Bucky’s cover, he was the owner of a transportation company. Considering how well he was doing, he took the last two weeks off to move into his first home with his new wife before having to get back into the work ethic he had been thriving in the last ten years.
All perfect pieces to get the answers and resources from our sketchy neighbors we came here for.
“I asked Katrina, one of the wives of a guy who works closely alongside Reggie. I figured that was a good seed to plant,” I answered, pulling my legs up to my chest and resting my chin on my knees as I watched Jake Peralta chase a bad guy down the streets of New York. I missed the homeland. “She said she’d ask around, which is what I needed. What about you? Any of the 'dusty-ass husbands' have fun details to share?”
“Nothing more than statistics of sports teams and rookie starters for the state college basketball team,” he sighed, and I turned over to see him staring at me before turning back to his computer quickly. “Reggie was giving me a hard time, though.”
“Oh yeah?” I hummed, angling myself to him. “Bethanne was giving me a hard time, too.”
“Think it’s related to the same thing?” Bucky chuckled, looking back at me, but whatever was in his eyes just seconds ago was gone now.
“Say on the count of three?” I smirked.
“One,” he nodded.
“Two.”
“Three.”
“When we’re going to consider joining parenthood,” Bucky said.
“When we’re having kids,” I said at the same time. “Almost a jinx if you didn’t word it so damn robotically. Did fucking Vision channel into your damn cyborg brain?” I laughed, and I heard a slight scoff from his direction before I rolled my head back and looked up at the ceiling. I stayed quiet until Bucky broke me out of my thoughts twenty seconds later.
“What are you thinking?” I heard the computer shut and then be placed on the cushion next to him. “I can hear the gears working past their limit.” His weak version of a retort.
I lulled my stare at him and deadpanned a bitchface at him. “You talking to yourself again?” He rolled his eyes at my comeback, and I decided to bypass the banter. “I think we need to step our game up. Ms. Bethanne thinks we’re ‘tamed’ for a newlywed couple. In other words, she thinks we’re prudes.”
“We’ve hit the PDA marks we need to,” Bucky stiffened just enough for a trained eye to see, but he tried to brush it off as getting comfortable in his spot.
“Hmm, so maybe one of us is a prude,” I shrugged, moving my legs under me and leaning on one side of the chair.
We hadn't kissed, although I would peck one on his cheek, and he would place one on top of my head. But that's as far as either of us had been willing to go.
I know our job may require us to go beyond that, and I was willing to keep it strictly professional even if necessary, but Bucky seemed to want to avoid it by all means. Message received.
“I’m not a prude. I just don’t understand why people have to be so touchy in public. It makes everyone uncomfortable,” he argued.
“Not everyone finds discomfort in those acts. A lot of people think it’s cute.”
“I’m not one of those fucking people.”
“Well, you better figure out pretty fucking quick how to become one of those people because this operation kinda depends on it.” I sighed, standing up and stretching. “Listen, I know you hate me and all, but if we’re going to get this done and over with, we need to-”
“I’ve never said I hate you,” Bucky interrupted. I looked down and saw him staring at me with stern eyes.
“Actions have convinced me otherwise.”
“The same could be said for you.”
“I don’t hate you,” I clarified after carefully studying him for lies.
It was an intense stare-off, but not one where I felt like I had to win it. One where I felt we were both taking a step into new territory, and neither of us knew what to expect.
Bucky’s burner phone rang right before I could follow up with my peace offering, and we saw it was the fake caller ID Steve was under. He picked it up and put it on speaker.
“What’s up, punk?” he answered, and Steve scoffed on the other end.
“Just your biweekly check-in. Anything interesting enough to make this phone call longer than 5 minutes?” he asked.
“Don’t think so,” Bucky sighed and filled him in on the steps we had taken to further the investigation. Planting our gossip seeds where necessary and waiting for the garden to grow.
The call ended with Steve informing Bucky that he ‘started back at work’ tomorrow and would need to go to a specific meeting spot for updates. A way for us to get news that couldn’t be tracked with phone calls and messages. And after two weeks of gathering information and only four check-ins in that time, things were meant to pick up now.
I had decided to head back to my room when a normal conversation between the two started up and strayed from the mission talk. Then, about 10 minutes later, Bucky was in my doorway as I got ready for bed.
“Sorry, Steve wanted to know if we had torn each other’s heads off yet. Nat and him have a bet going,” he said, leaning on the doorway and crossing his arms over his chest.
I shrugged, pulling the comforter back on the bed. “No need to apologize. And who’s winning?”
“Steve gave it 3 weeks, so he’s still in the running.”
“He’s being generous,” I laughed, fluffing a pillow before sitting on the edge and looking at him.
“I don’t know. I think we’ve managed to stay surprisingly civil given our relationship,” he smiled softly as if the conversation wasn’t dangerous grounds and could easily go one way or the other.
“Helps that we have to act for most of it,” I fiddled with my nails.
“Would you rather we didn’t get along?” he asked, and I could see the start of our normal frustration with each other trickle back into his tone.
I stared at him for a minute. Not sure what my goal was here, but it definitely had flipped from wanting to make every minute with him, his own personal hell.
“Fighting has become tiresome. I’m content tolerating the situation.” A bit of a hypocritical response, sounding robotic, but there was no lie behind it.
He stared at me like I had to him.
“Right. Tolerating,” he nodded with pursed lips, pushing off the door frame and walking down the hall to his room.
Something about his attitude made it hard for me to brush off the change in tension. I stood up and walked down the hall. When he was already in his room, I was taking up as much space as I could in his doorway now.
“What’s with the annoyance?” I asked, looking at him as he arranged some things on his nightstand. He turned around, body lax and almost defeated looking.
“I’m not annoyed. Why would I be annoyed with you ‘tolerating me’?” he said nonchalantly with a shrug of his shoulders.
“I don’t know, but you clearly are,” I gestured to him and crossed my arms. “Would you rather I treat you how I have before this? I mean, we can go back to-”
“Obviously not, Y/N,” he cut me off with a scoff, and I was shocked at the sheer anger that I would suggest such a thing. His use of obviously made my brain scramble as well… The second time, that word had messed with me tonight.
“You’re confusing as hell, Barnes,” I squinted my eyes at him and decided I wasn’t in the mood to handle a bipolar 100-year-old man tonight. Maybe it was best if I just called it a night.
Turning in my spot four steps away, I didn’t expect the hand around my bicep to stop me in the middle of the hall, leading to a pensive look on his face as he stared at me.
“What?” I furrowed my eyes at him and looked at the contact unwavering on my elbow.
“I—” he started and then stopped. An internal war played out with surprising clarity on his face. I raised my eyebrows and waited.
We stared for an hour—okay, nine seconds—but it’s all the same with that level of intensity.
“Never mind.” He dropped my arm and took a step back.
“Seriously?”
“I don’t want to start something.”
“There’s something to start?”
“No, but I’ll wait until you’re in a better mood to,” he debated on his wording. “Discuss it,” he settled on, turning on his heel.
“I’m not in a bad mood,” I huffed, and yeah… That didn’t help proving my point.
“Sure thing,” he shook his head before walking into his room, carrying on as if he hadn’t dropped a strange and confusing bomb on me that I now needed answers to.
“Goodnight to you, too,” I grumbled as I walked to my room and shut the door behind me.
Marvel Tags:
@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @mythos-writes @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326 @captain-asguard @mollygetssherlockcoffee @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses @livstilinski @basicallylool @starryeyeseunbyul
My Lovelies forever:
@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente @kakakatey @traceyaudette @notyourtypicalrose @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @thefaithfulwriter1 @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @deannotmoose @their-bibliophile @kitkatd7 @willowbleedsonpaper @mariaenchanted @snffbeebee @couldabeenamermaid @rebekahdawkins @alyispunk @billyseye @hallecarey1
Bucky Barnes Tags:
@chloe-skywalker @charmedbysarge @jbarness @bellamy-barnes @katiaw2 @aikeia @stopjustlovethemcu @enchantedbarnes
Mr. & Mrs. Hunt Series:
@jackiehollanderr @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @theroyalmanatee @wintrsoldrluvr @alexakeyloveloki
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#justkending#marvel series#marvel#bucky barnes series#reader insert#marvel fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader insert#bucky barnes x avenger reader#bucky barnes mini series
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may we please PLEASE PLEASE please get more aviator!abby???? she’s so yummy & i need her so bad..
welll if you wannttttt ofcccc!! this is totallyyy not based off of today’s events. if only i had abby around </3
click for palestine | don’t buy tlou | read b4 engaging
the toilet is broken and it's been ruining your fucking day. the stupid handle is too loose and you're determined to fix it yourself. it's far too embarrassing to ask the other wives on base to use their toilet. word spreads far too fast. everyone's gonna think abby doesn't care for you. and that is far from true! she cares about you so much, you think you're gonna suffocate in her love.
which is part of the reason you wanna fix this stupid waste of space in your bathroom. abby takes care of you everyday, and she works hard and long all day. it wouldn't be fair for her to come home to a broken toilet. (sometimes she sits there doing buisness, while playing wordle, and keeping conversation with you as you shower. you'd hate to break routine.) but you've been knelt over twisting screws, fiddling with pliers, and banging your head against the wall for the past few hours. for a matter of fact, youtube is not helpful! in fact, when abby gets home, you're informing her of a the anderson housewide youtube ban. stupid fucking site. waste of space on the web. killed away at your day with useless hacks anyway.
you're so caught up on cursing at the tablet, your cat pawing at your toes, the stupid fucking toilet, and don't forget swearing the wind, that you don't hear abby's heavy footsteps. you normally greet her at the door with plenty of love. whenever you're not waiting for her, it normally means trouble. means that she better make your stiff couch, real comfortable tonight. and no, she cannot steal any souvenirs from your normally shared bed. she must make do with some throw pillows and a teensy tiny blanket.
you think that you've almost got the issue sorted out when she catches you redhanded. her arms snake around your waist from behind causing you to drop your tools and squeal. your cat screeching at the commotion. abby clicks her tongue at the grey streaked animal. bane of her existence. you thrash in her arms for a minute, until she kisses your cheeks and you're able to inhale her scent. "relax pretty, it's just me."
you huff, and turn around facing her sweet face. "you're an asshole." you don't mean it. but, she's just made you almost shit your pants while your toilet is totally broken. fair reaction, if you may say so yourself.
"you don't mean that," she smiles. her thumb goes to wipe sweat off your forehead. "what's going on here that you're wielding serious machinery?" she eyes the discarded plier and screwdriver.
you slide up to the sink, settling your spine against the cool faucet. your cat following in suite, jumping up into your lap, effortlessly. you coax, him, in your laps, scratching behind his ears, while speaking to your wife. "toilet's fucking broken." you groan, "i've spent all day trying to fix it." abby eyes the loud video playing in the counter of the bathroom corner. she goes to shut off the tablet, sensing your agitation.
"why didn't you call me? or a plumber?" her hands rub your thighs gently, trying to soothe you.
"despite what the haters say," you laugh softly to yourself, "i can do things."
she looks you up and down with a look of doubt in her eye, "i know you can." she plants a sweet kiss on your lips to reassure you before planting the real stuff. she pulls away stroking your cheek, "just not this type of stuff."
you roll your eyes and scoff. "ok well, a girl can try."
she smiles, "yeah lets, not anymore." she smiles and leans away slightly, eyeing the damage you've done to the commode. you pinch her bicep for her sly comment. she grunt in a pained response. her hands grip your wrist, not too tight, she'd never hurt you. "listen here girly," she threatens emptily, before releasing your wrist. her fingers tickle at your sides with carefree joy.
"is it fixable?" you ask. you feel awful.
that cocky smile of hers finds its way to her dopey face. "for the average joe? meh," she shrugs her shoulders. "for me?" she boasts, "definitely fixable, pretty. don't worry." she plants another kiss on you. when she pulls away, abby wipes her hands on the sides of her uniform khakis. she kneels to the base of the toilet, and assess the damage closer. "i think i found the problem baby."
"what is it?" you stroke the feline in your lap.
"you've been using all the wrong tools hon," she remarks offhanded while digging around blindly for her toolbar that's got her initials monogrammed onto the front.
"you're a tool," you say under your breathe.
"heard that!" abby says from down below. she chuckles softly, but doesn't let you hear.
"love you baby!" you reply back, a smile fixed to your lips.
"suck it, anderson," she grunts back while tightening a bolt or something. whatever the hell she was doing down there.
"maybe later," you laugh sweetly.
"sounds good to me," abby replies rather quick.
"shut up and fix the toilet anderson!" you say in a fit of giggles.
"yes ma'am," your cornball of a wife replies, while making a complicated task look easy. she's impossible to hate, and so easy to love.
#written by lina ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆#sofie ♡#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson x female reader#abby anderson smut#abby anderson#abby tlou#abby x you#abby anderson fluff#abby x reader#abby the last of us#aviator!abby#aviator!abby x reader#aviator!abby anderson x reader#abby anderson x black reader#abby anderson x black!reader#black!fem!reader#black!reader#latina!reader#abby anderson tlou2#abby tlou2#ellie williams tlou#tlou hbo#tlou2#tlou fanfiction#tlou#tlou part 2#ellie tlou#ellie williams x y/n#ellie williams the last of us
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18+ account - minors do not interact warnings/tags included on each individual work.
No use of Y/N in anything.
I'm open to requests but it might take a few weeks.
Thank you for reading ❤️
Series
The Way We Were [complete] : You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. When the outbreak happens, you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.
Look What We've Become [sequel to TWWW - complete] : You are tasked with taking a young girl back to her family while trying to salvage your relationship with Joel after certain events cause the biggest strain either of you have ever had to face.
I'll Be Home For Christmas [complete, but on-going updates] Having just caught your fiancé cheating on you, you decide to come back home from the big city to Austin for the month of December to try to figure out your next step. You had no idea you would be getting more than you bargained for with the handsome single dad who built your parents' house.
Somewhere to Run [complete] : You move to a small town in the middle of Texas to escape your past and start over. You don't expect to fall for the town's handsome sheriff.
I Know Who You Are [complete]: A fall on patrol causes you to lose your long term memory, forgetting the identities of your friends and loved ones. You have to learn all over again how to survive in a post-apocalyptic world, and you learn things about yourself along the way.
Roommates [in progress]: Your roommate, Maria, introduces you to her boyfriend's brother. You hit it off immediately, but when you find out the true nature of his profession, you both decide to remain just friends. But once the four of you eventually move in together, things get... complicated.
Evergreen [coming soon]: Two unlikely strangers meet and bond over a shared trauma. But what happens when the lines unexpectedly blur and they're both overcome with guilt? Will they allow themselves to love again, or will they choose to drown in their grief?
One-Shots/Requests
I hate when you're right : After a heated argument with Joel, you finally convince him to leave Jackson so you could explore a store for new clothes, and what happens could change your life forever.
Have A Good Night: Every week like clockwork, the same devastatingly handsome man comes into the grocery store where you work to buy flowers. It's not until he asks you out when you realize the flowers aren't for his wife or girlfriend.
Night Shift: It was a relatively quiet night in the emergency room until a handsome contractor gets admitted and adds some excitement to your life.
One-Shots/Requests/Collections
Hitman [on-going]: Fresh on the heels of a breakup, you move into a new apartment in a shady part of town. When a mysterious man breaks in, insisting he knew the prior tenant and needs to recover something left behind, you get caught up in a whirlwind of danger and attraction.
credit to @saradika-graphics for the dividers
Headers were made on canva by myself
#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fic#joel the last of us#tlou hbo#the last of us hbo#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller series#joel x reader#joel x reader smut#joel miller angst#joel miller fluff#pedro pascal#the last of us game#the way we were joel miller fic#the last of us#the last of us fanfiction#dave york fanfiction#dave york x reader#dave york#the equalizer 2 fanfic#the equalizer
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