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writersblockiskillingme · 1 year

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Gladiator | Jan Rozmanowski/Jann

Pairing: Jan Rozmanowski/Jann x reader (figure skater!reader)

Summary: People find it hard to believe that Jan wrote Gladiator for you and his relationship with you, but once they look in the lyrics a bit better it all makes sense.

Warning/s: swearing (twice, maybe three times), impaled smut, but not in detail, stress and pressure, possible grammar and spelling mistakes, but I really hope you will enjoy this one

Author's note: I didn't see any Jann imagines on here and we CAN NOT and WILL NOT have that... so I made one. I also kind of got inspired by the queen herself, Alexandra Trusova. Enjoy! (Requests are open)

Welcome to the party, say hi to everybody

Paid for by Martini, but they're sippin' on Bacardi

Body's more than just a flesh, you can sell it for success

What's your price what's your address? We can finish at my place

Sometimes it can get really hard. You were a famous figure skater and it meant that you had to give up a lot. Like a lot. You could make some friends, sure, but it will never last. Figure skating is truly a very competitive sport and it would mean that you had to go up against your friends most of the time. So yeah, it never ends well. One always gets hurt and, as selfish as this may sound, you always had to make sure that you wouldn't be the one to get hurt.

You kind of lost all of the interest about the party that you were attending right now. You just felt so tired from the late practice last night that you felt like you could easily doze off right here. You found yourself leaning against the bar corner as you drank the last drop of your Bacardi, even tho you paid for a Martini. However, when the bartender brought you the wrong drink you didn't want to be one of those people so you didn't tell him anything. Plus you really couldn't care less as long as you get a little alcohol in your system to try and wash away all of the shit that was currently going on. The preparations for the World Championship was truly killing you, eating you outside out.

As you ordered yourself a new round of Bacardi, you noticed the guy standing next to you.

You didn't really know what was it. The alcohol? Your fucked out drunk as fuck brain? Or perhaps it was the tiredness from the bone crushing training with zero percent of sleep? In any case, whatever it was, you noticed one thing. The guy was drop dead gorgeous, it surprised you that he was alone nursing a bunch of Margaritas. His hair was dirty blonde, almost brown. His eyes looked so tired, but they still held a beautiful kind of joy. He looked so tired, too. You noticed the way he was lightly gripping at the glass that he was probably a bit drunk, too. You also noticed that he was so freakishly tall. It all confused you. You thought that it was ridiculous. How can somebody be so bloody drop dead gorgeous?

Maybe it was alcohol after all because you suddenly got a wave of self encouragement and you found yourself slowly stepping towards him. Something was simply pulling you towards him. You simply felt like you need to get to know him. It surprised you. You weren't usually the one to step forward, it flooded you with nervousness. Plus, considering your occupation, you didn't really have much time to get yourself a boyfriend, but it felt like it would be nice. All you had to do entire day was wake up, eat if you have time, practice, quick break, more practice, shower, rihurse, eat, sleep. On Fridays you allowed yourself to get drunk just enough so you could forget it all, but you thought that it would be nice. You know?

To have someone who is not putting even more pressure on you, to always be there for you, no matter what. To encourage you, to be there for you, to cheer you on, to make you happy. Somebody who will be proud of you no matter what. Someone who will be there when the pressure and the expectations get to much. When you break down. Someone to hold you. To see you as you. To love you. And, weirdly enough, you felt this towards that unknown guy you just saw, but you didn't now that he was actually looking at you the entire night. Watching you drowning yourself in a drink that you didn't even order, but were to nice to say anything to the bartender. He was watching you perform for a bit, too. He found you very talented. Very gorgeous.

However, before you could make a few steps towards him, from the spot in which you were standing in, you were suddenly swarmed with the crowd.

It lasted long enough it seems like, you thought to yourself. It was just a matter of time before somebody would approach you. In the corner of your eye, you saw him smirking at you, his face saying "amusement". Your eyes met and he got up, to your surprise. People around you were yelling, dancing, drinking, the crowd stared to make small talk, but your eyes were still just on him. He knew it, too. He stopped walking when he reached the end of the crowd. Your eyes filled with realization and a bit of amusement. Once you finally said hello to everybody, you will reach the one you want to get to know the most right now. And so you started with the talk.

After a long while, you felt like you got hit by a truck. You were still talking, still drinking, still faking. Just as the last person finally went away and the last photo got taken, at that moment approached you the person you wanted the most. He ordered himself and you a Martini and you got to chit-chat.

"I must say." He began as the bartender placed two Martinis in front of you. "I feel so honored that you found time to talk to me."

"Yeah, sorry about that." You suddenly your cheeks felt hot and you realized that you were blushing.

"No, it's good. But I must say you look even more gorgeous when you blush." He gave you his signature smirk as he took another sip of his Martini. At that, you felt like your face was red as a tomato.

"By the way, I saw your performance in Amsterdam three days ago." He said and you couldn't help but to look up at him in surprise. God he was so tall. "Those two flips that you did... I can see that you are very skilled." He gave you another compliment as he took another sip of his Martini. You felt so honored, he had seen you perform, he thinks your skilled. Somehow it felt like a big commitment. Somehow, someway, his opinion mattered to you.

"Really?" You started, suddenly feeling very bold. "I thought that the part where I did that Cantilever was gonna be your favorite."

"Oh, trust me it is." He gave you a wink as he continued to talk. "It looked really good, darling." He said, his Polish accent coming on strong.

"Well, what can I say. It had to be good. However, sometimes, the body is more than just a flesh, but in many things you can sell it for success." You winked back at him as you said that. "But you have to have some talent, too."

Both him and you knew one thing, though. If you continued to drink as much as you do right now and talk the way you were talking right now, you will probably end up finishing this conversation at his place.

Ever been to Bali? I really need some sun

Such a shame 'bout that tsunami, I'll have to go to Cali

I can get you dressed, wrap your body in excess

Give them something to obsess over

It felt so good. You were talking about everything and about nothing. He told you that he wanted to visit an island called Bali, but a day before his flight he saw the news about the island being hit by a tsunami so he decided to go to Cali. He also told you that he was a professional song writer and a singer and that he wanted to make another song, but didn't really have an inspiration.

You were telling him about the struggle of your sport and that you felt like all of the weight of the expectations were slowly, but surely crushing down on you. But you also told him about the fun part of your job, the costumes, the song and choreography choice. You enjoyed that, he could tell so, too. From the way that you were talking about it, he felt like he could listen forever.

"My coach is putting so much pressure on me. It gets to much, sometimes. Like I'm not famous enough. It gets on my nerves so much sometimes. I can't even go to a grocery store, most of the time somebody will recognize me!"

You complained and he listened. He listened and gave his opinion and you knew that he felt the same and it hurt so much. You felt like you had fallen in love, it was ridiculous. But at the same time it wasn't.

After a while he pulled you towards the middle of the dance floor. You were laughing and dancing and singing along. You didn't feel this relaxed and this happy for a long time. It felt like drugs. You just couldn't get enough and you never wanted it to stop.

Jan placed his arms around your waist as you danced and just had fun. You pulled each other closer as you danced. You could smell his cologne as you hid your face in his neck. He smelled like the finest air, alcohol and cigarettes. It was a weird combination, but it was so comforting, you felt like you could only breathe that astonishing smell for the rest of your life. Pretty soon, you tangled your hands in his hair as he played with the edge of your dress.

"They are taking photos of us." You found yourself whispering in his ear. You could practically feel the smirk he directed to you.

"It's fine." Jan laughed a bit, amused. "A figure skater and a singer. That'll give them something to obsess over."

You'll love it when I give it to you, leave you wanting more

I know your addiction's attention, let's start a show

Is it everything and more than you were hoping for?

Show us something we ain't never seen before

Jan and you were dating for two months now, and you had to admit that it was the best relationship that you were ever in. It went so much better than you thought it would. He was your number 1 supporter and you were his. He came to your every performance just like you came to every gig he had. You were always cheering him on just like he always cheered you on.

You just got off the practice, you were supposed to have a few days off and you couldn't wait to go away. You couldn't wait to leave rehearsals for a while, to leave your coach for a while, to leave the public eye for a while. You just couldn't wait to go get out of the building and crash at Jan's place. As you got out of the rehearsal, the first person you saw was your gorgeous boyfriend.

The moment he saw you he gave you your water bottle and despite your protests took your bag and slang it over his shoulder. He put his arm around you and led you to the car as you drank your water. You couldn't wait to get to his house. And, boy, it was worth the wait.

The moment you walked in he had you pressed against the wall, kissing you passionately. You tangled your hands in his gorgeous hair as he mumbled "jump" against your mouth. You did just that. Jan's arms wrapped around your legs as he walked upstairs towards the bedroom.

He gently placed you down, his lips never in the wildest dreams leaving your lips. Jam continued to kiss you as both of you slowly got rid of your clothes. After you were both pressed against each other, skin to skin, he pulled away for a short while.

"You'll love it when I give it to you. I'll leave you wanting more." And that wasn't a threat, it was a promise.

Smash your competition, baby

Show us some good entertainment

Victory's your only payment

Gladiator, gladiator

You were so bloody nervous, you felt like you were about to throw up or explode or something. You were messing around with the end of the red costume you were wearing, a white jacket was slung over your shoulders to protect the costume.

Jan immediately noticed what was wrong and quickly brought you into a hug. He didn't say anything for a while, he was just slowly rocking you back and forth in his arms.

Jan felt you tighten your arms around him. You felt like crying. He knew it. He pulled you even closer, afraid that you would disappear or that a messy cloud of fear and anxiety that was hanging above your head would cover you completely. The smell of his cologne calmed you down a little bit, but you still felt like you would much rather just crowl into a hole and die.

"You can do this." Jan pulled away as he placed both of his hands on each side of your face. "You can land 5 quads, you can win the World Championship. I know you can." It seemed like his words of encouragement did little to settle down the nervous pit that was constantly, slowly, painfully growing inside of your stomach.

"But, what if I-?"

"Even if you don't." He gave you a look. "Even if you don't it will still be like you did. For me you did. For your whole country, for your family, for your friends it will be like you won."

You nodded your head slowly, nervousness calming down a little bit. He slowely copied your action and nodded his head, too. You gave him a smile, a silent "thank you" for slicing that into you.

"Now go out there and show them something they have never seen before." He said and you pulled him in a quick kiss before your coach called you.

"Thank you, Jan." You whispered before you left. Jan smiled as he watched you go, shining with pride as he walked away to get to his seat.

Welcome to the party, I know it's kinda funny

That everyone is acting like they know you personally

Just play along, be nice and all

You won't get far being on your own

Your makeup was a bit ruined, but it didn't matter because you did it! Everything that you were working on your whole life had come true. You won the World Championship and you made history by landing 5 quads.

You grabbed your trophy and took pictures with the girls who got 2nd and 3rd place. But there was this bubbling excitement in your chest. You just couldn't wait to get off of the platform and to celebrate your victory with the person who supported you the most. Jan.

The moment that you saw each other, you ran to one another and Jan lifted you from the ground as he kept spinning you around.

"I'm so proud of you, baby!" He said as he attacked you with kisses. "My world champion!"

Later on you walked into a celebration party. Everyone was chatting with you, congratulations were shot at you from miles away and everyone was talking to you like they truly know you. After a while, you called it quits and left with one arm wrapped around your trophy and with other arm wrapped around your greatest treasure.

"I find it kind of funny, you know." Jan spoke up as you walked towards the car with you. "Everyone was talking to us like they knew every single thing about us."

"I know. But you know what?" You tightened your arm around him as you gave him a light, tired smile. "You really should always be kind to everyone. On this world you can't do it all on your own. So thank you, Jan. For your support."

"Baby, you are my greatest prise."

#jann #jan rozmanowski x reader #jann x reader #jan rozmanowski #eurovision song contest #eurovision 2023 #imagine #jan x reader #x reader #songfic #gladiator #jann gladiator #Spotify #fic #why is he so gorgeous #why is he so precious

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thirstyforlulu · 2 months

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OH! Maddie! Since it's valentines day what about some valentines day/love hc's for Alucard and Jan valentine?

A day late, my bad

Alucard:

I could see Lulu being the type that sees Valentine’s Day as one big scam

He knows it’s just a marketing ploy

But that doesn’t mean he won’t do anything for you

You are the most amazing part of his life, he enjoys any excuse to celebrate you

To avoid the more corporate side of the holiday, he plans ahead to avoid buying into the markups

He will usually either hand make something or find a very sentimental gift outside of the traditional stuff

He will buy you candies, but not the overpriced Valentine’s Day specials

However, if you really like the traditional stuff like teddy bears and roses, he will provide

He always gives you a lot of stuff, and insists you two spend the day together

Every year is different, but you always do something

And the night always ends with passionate lovemaking

Jan:

He eats up the cheesy corporate stuff

He will get you the biggest teddy bear he can find, the biggest heart shaped box of chocolates, and as many balloons as he can hold

But he’s going to down play it

“Oh you know, they had a pre-holiday sale so I picked something up while I was out.”

He acts like it’s no big deal, but then you catch him grinning as you start eating the candies

It’s kind of an ego thing that he got you big stuff, but also a love thing

If you thank him he’ll say something along the lines of “Well I had to get my babydoll something.”

Don’t ever throw out something he got you, he would be crushed

Even though he acts like these gifts were meaningless, they’re coming directly from his heart

And at the end of the day, he’ll want his “gift” 👀

#alucard #alucard x reader #jan valentine x reader #jan x reader #jan valentine #janny

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vermont-writes-fanfic · 1 year

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How They Like to Cuddle Part 2

Rip Van Winkle:

She personally likes any position that she can hug you in. She is very affectionate towards you and tends to get a little bored after sitting around. You normally cuddle at the end of a very long day and have her as the little spoon, she loves the feeling of her favourite person holding her after a long day! She'll complain and ask to move but will pout if you let her go. On the other hand, if she is in the mood for cuddles she will not let you go at all. It will start at any time in the day, she'll simply seal you away and make you cuddle with her all day or until she's had enough. When she wants them the two of you assume the positions of the spoon in which you are the little spoon and she is big.

Jan Valentine:

Jan is also a very hyper man but loves having you by his side, he especially loves your touch. He typically keeps you on his lap and has his hands firmly planted on your ass. On his off day when he doesn't feel too good or he's pissed off because Luke scolded him for having fun, he'll come to you and the two of you will cuddle. He likes to be on his knees hugging your waist while he lays his head against your chest and listens to your heartbeat.

Luke Valentine:

It's hard to get him to settle down with you and cuddle because he takes his job more seriously than his brother does. The times when you do get to cuddle he can't seem to get enough, he steps off his high horse and begs you to cuddle him or really to just spend time with him. He'll open his arms wide and kiss your neck softly as you stay in this warm embrace, it takes a while before he gets in bed and most times it won't happen. Since he's a vampire he works all day and night.

The Captain:

The Captain is nothing but a gentle giant when it comes to you, because of his superhuman abilities he is too scared to actually let himself hold you at all. Instead of him holding you, you hold him, and he will slide down low on the bed and rest his face on your chest while that, or if you really insist he will hold you close to him. Your face turned to look at him, hands gently placed against his chest as he plays with your hair.

The Major:

The Major initially thinks that it is a waste of time, why would he cuddle his beloved when he could be planning another war or waging against multiple countries? When you finally manage to get him to stop and drag him to your private chambers for some relaxation, he finds that this is the best thing he can do with his time...besides waging war. He gets many devious ideas when he is laying with you so he will occasionally come and lay with you for a few hours while he tries to get over his creative block. You sit in his lap and rest your head against his chest, he will occasionally give you kisses if you stay still or give him good advice.

Schrodinger:

This scornful energetic kitty loves cuddling with you, he definitely prefers you over The Major. Besides, you are much more entertaining than the kitty's boss. He likes to lay on you, his head on your chest, body splayed out on top of you. When you are on the move in a place he can't just lay on top of you, he will rest his head on your lap silently requesting that you let him between his ears.

Tubalcain Alhambra:

He is one arrogant mother fucker so he never takes any small position, point, blank period. He holds you and even carries you around nearly everywhere you or he goes. Not much to say when it comes to him, he is the big spoon, he is at the bottom of the snuggle pile, and he is the one holding you close. This is more because he needs to keep you safe, he loves you too much to let you get hurt.

The Doctor:

I am genuinely surprised you kept him out of his work long enough for him to consider the thought, let alone to actually lay down with you. You're his first so he is a little awkward when it comes to doing anything so domestic like cuddling. He is very basic, he just spoons you and lets you relax in his arms, he feels rather embarrassed when you hold him but he supposes it's a little nice to get away from his work.

Zorin Blitz:

Zorin is the type to pin you down in bed, she'll lay on you or hold you in a tomb-like hug while you lay on your side. She knows exactly what you need at any specific time so she very happily obliges, all she wants is for there to be a smile on your face. She can get a little antsy but if you haven't had enough time with her, she just picks you up and lets you hug her from behind while she carries you around.

Hope Ya liked this! Please send in any requests you have and check out my list of things that I write for!

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jannsbae · 1 year

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writing fics about jann now, send your requests!

#jann #jan rozmanowski #jann rozmanowski #jann gladiator #gladiator #jan x reader #jann x reader #jann rozmanowski x reader #jan rozmanowski x reader

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oharababe · 3 months

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❝ STRESS RELIEVER ❞ oneshot premise. you're struggling to keep your focus with the stress and miguel offers to ease that worry off you. (minors do not interact).

pairing. college student! miguel o'hara x college student! reader. genre. explicit sexual content, alternate universe. warnings. finger fucking, dirty talk, kinda slow burn. wc. 3,573 words.

a/n. this is long overdue for @spikedhe4rt who requested miguel to finger fuck reader as a stress relief. i aged reader and miguel to between 22-23 in this oneshot since they're college students. this fic is longer than intended but hey, we like to take it slow burn here.

Sometimes you contemplate why you put yourself in this kind of situation.

You were aware that you have exams coming up in the next few weeks. But you were focused on making sure that you got your assignments done before the deadline. So it was natural for you to prioritise those. You wish you had paid more attention to the dates because just when you thought that you would have more time to revise, you didn’t. Leaving you with only three weeks until your exam. And now you’re struggling to get information into your head.

“Fuck,” you mumble. The machine makes a soft drilling noise as it pours coffee into your mug. You rub your forehead with your hand as you wait for your drink to finish. Thinking about what topics you need to revise for the exam. Mentally planning how you would organise and plan yourself for another long session of studying. It’s going to be another long night.

When your drink is ready, you stride your way to the dining table where all your notes and books are set. With not enough desk space you have in your room, the dining table has turned into your second desk to accommodate all the reading materials and your laptop to work on. You strap yourself in your seat, ready for another torturous session of studying for the finals.

All the caffeine from the coffee, tea and sugary energy drinks didn’t last long in your system. At first, you feel the buzz of the caffeine that helps you go through two hours of reading and answering mock questions without a proper break. You feel yourself pushing through, feeling motivated that you can do this. But then, the effects wear off, and now you’re struggling through short video clips on your laptop after two hours into your study session.

Your mind battles. Reminding you about the consequences of you losing more time. But you can’t be bothered at the moment. You are convincing yourself that you deserve a break from studying for fifteen minutes which turned into a two-hour rest and procrastination.

At this rate, you know that you won't get any studying done. You’re going to have to face the consequences of that but you can’t be bothered about it for now. Staring mindlessly at your laptop with headphones on as you watch a reality television adaption to pass the time.

“Dios, you’re still here this late?”

Your eyes look up from your laptop to find your roommate in the dining area. Miguel stands at the entrance in his black leather jacket, red shirt underneath and dark-coloured jeans. His black helmet rests on his left lip and it looks like he’s returned from wherever he went or did. You didn’t realise that he wasn’t in the house you both shared all this time. “When was the last time you looked at yourself in the mirror? You look shit.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious.” You say. Your relationship with Miguel O’Hara is rather tricky, to say the least. Sometimes, the two of you get along and have a decent conversation with each other about careers, and personal experiences and share similar interests. Though other times, it’s not necessary. It’s mostly when he would bring people over to the house and then take one girl up to his room. Having to hear moans from the girls he fucked and Miguel’s growls and dirty talks.

It annoys you to no end, especially the one incident when you walked into the bathroom with him getting a blow job in the shower. It’s still his fault for not locking the bathroom or even putting a sign on the door to say that he’s busy getting pleased.

Even after that, your subtle attraction for Miguel still resonates with you.

You realise your mug is empty, another drink that is supposed to keep you going has gone to waste in your system. You can’t be bothered but you know that you’ve wasted time not studying when you’re supposed to. So, you get up from your seat, walk into the kitchen and do the same routine that you’ve done the past few weeks when you’re cramming for finals. Either make your coffee, or tea or grab an energy drink. The caffeine from the coffee is too much for you to handle at the moment and tea isn’t strong enough for you. So you settle for an energy drink where it’s in between enough caffeine to maybe help you go through for another three hours for now.

“Are you thinking of studying again?” Miguel sounds a bit disbelieving, but not surprised. He’s now in the kitchen with you as you take your energy drink of choice for the night—or early morning. You don’t want to look at the time “There’s no point. You’re not going to remember anything at this rate.”

“Can we just… not do this?” You warn, holding your hand up as a sign for him to stop talking. Stop creating conversations that would lead to an argument because you know it would happen. Especially with your emotions all over the place.

Miguel stares at you, his eyes roaming up and down. Not long after, his lips curl into a smirk. Leaning his side against the frame of the long, rectangular entrance arch. “You’re stressed out. Miss Perfect finally breaks down for finals.”

A tired sigh escapes out of your mouth. You focus to proceed on opening up the can, hearing its fizziness before pouring it into your mug. “You could say that.”

The kitchen falls into silence. What he says is certainly true and you feel that you brought this on yourself. You were off-tracked with your assignments and didn’t check the right exam dates. It’s an error on your part but you are trying to do your best to make it through another year of college without failing. At this point, you’re willing to accept a passing grade just to make it to another year.

“I’ll study and keep you company,” Miguel declares. “Only to make sure you stay focused and get on track. No more messing around. Got that?”

You blink, unprepared for his words. You’re not sure why he’s doing this to you but what he said made a rush of warmth fill your chest. Despite his words, you guess that he thinks it’s better to have someone to study with rather than doing it alone. But you don’t ask Miguel if that’s his intention, in case he decides to rethink his offer.

“Thank you.”

Miguel unfolds his arms and lets it drop to his sides. His hands are in his pockets as he’s about to leave, but then he looks over his shoulder to you. “And also; nadie bebe su bebida energética de una taza.” He says before disappearing elsewhere.

You blink and look down at the mug in your hand, guessing that Miguel is talking about how energy drinks are meant to drink from their can, and not from a mug.

*****

You did manage to push yourself for another two hours before you came crashing again.

“I can’t focus on anything else right now. My mind has gone blank.” You sigh, slumping on your seat. That’s another study session that failed.

“Hm,” Miguel responds. Focusing on his study materials. “I think you’ve studied too much. That’s why you’re burned out.”

There is some truth to his words. You have been pushing yourself to the bone for this exam and now your mind is haywired. Everything feels numbing in your head. The feelings of exhaustion, guilt and unbotheredness are jumbled in you.

“I’m just really stressed out. I want to do well on this exam but my brain just… can’t grasp anything that I’ve studied.” You say, sounding a little disheartened. “I can’t focus, I can’t concentrate.”

Miguel couldn’t help but glance at you. Taking in the way you’re slumped in your seat and how hollow your eyes are, filled with fatigue and emptiness. You look stressed out. He wonders when was the last time you had rest – a proper break. Not the stupid Pomodoro breaks where you take five to ten minutes of break time before getting back to studying.

He wonders when was the last time you had taken care of yourself?

Miguel turns his attention to you when he hears you close one of your heavy books. You let out a sigh, “I can’t even relax without being so much on edge. Fuck.”

He thinks you’re right as he sees the way your body tenses in stress and anxiety. Miguel’s expression stays unfazed though he does feel sympathy seeing you in such a state. “Hey, you should get some rest. Go to bed early or something.”

“I will after I attempt to get this lesson done. Then, I’ll go to bed.”

Miguel gives you a solemn look. Your determination is one of the things he admires about you. Your willingness to do whatever it takes to get your points across. It made you endearing in his eyes. But at the moment, it’s making you look stubborn and somewhat prideful. The last thing you need is a bad experience of burnout before your exam, and he knows that you know this as well deep down.

“Let me help you to relax,”

“Huh?” You shoot him a confused look. As if he’s said something unusual to you. “Help me… relax? How do you plan on doing that?”

Miguel nods, “You are tensed up and you’re not getting anything remembered in your head. Your mind can’t focus.”

You raise a brow at him, unsure where your roommate is coming from. Miguel is right, you do need to take a proper break since your productivity is rather counterproductive. But his words still puzzle you about how he can help you relax. “And how do you plan on doing that, exactly?” You ask curiously. “What do you do to relax when you’re stressed out?”

“You know, go to the gym. Take a walk, drive around.” Miguel says it casually. “Sometimes masturbating helps to wire your brain to relax.”

You stare at your roommate before burying your face in your hands with a groan. Not only is the suggestion embarrassing but you have to imagine Miguel playing with himself. How his hands would stroke his cock, hot and pulsing in the palm of his hands. Envisioning the grunted breaths and deep groans he makes. It isn’t as if you haven’t done that to yourself either, pleasuring yourself. You’ve done that on the nights where you could hear the headboard of his bed from his room moving as the girl Miguel brought for the night kept moaning.

You shake your head, dismissing the thoughts immediately. Or try to. “I’m not in the right mindset to do that.”

Miguel raises an eyebrow. “I’m not saying you should do it. I’m offering to do it. It’s on the table for you.”

“What?” You stare at him in shock and confusion. You think you heard him wrong but from the unfazed look on his face, you know that he is serious about this. Serious about giving you an orgasm, or maybe multiple orgasms. Because you know from the women and girls he brings over to fuck, Miguel has them moaning more than three times.

When you open up your mouth, you can hear yourself stammering your words. The thought of it is disgusting but at the same time, arouses you. “Miguel, I–”

“Do you trust me?” He asks, his red eyes piercing into yours. Captivating you to stop talking. To stop denying the offer of pleasure. You give Miguel a look of uncertainty, unsure how to respond to his offer.

“What’s it gonna be?” Miguel asks. The corner of his mouth curves up to a tiny smirk. “No pressure, chica. I want you to think about it and let me know if you’re up for it or not.”

Miguel goes back to reading his study notes with a neutral expression as if the conversation didn’t happen. He doesn’t look at you and the silence in the room speaks volumes. Leaving you to think about the offer. You’re not sure why he is even offering himself to give you pleasure. Miguel is your friend, for goodness sake. The guy is out of your league and he has been with other people, you know this. Is he doing this out of pity or could there be more to it?

The two of you have lived together for three years of schooling, and have known each other for that long. He doesn’t give you attention in a lustful way or lustful like he does with other girls; the kind of interest in starting a sexual relationship with you. It’s a blessing in disguise yet at the same time, you want a connection more than just being his friend.

You have a crush on Miguel but he doesn’t seem the type of guy who isn’t ready to commit to one person just yet. Especially when you’re both still young and exploring life ahead.

“Okay,” you closed your book with a thud. You catch his eyes when you fully turn to talk to him. This idea is already as insane as it is, but you’re desperate to stop feeling like a lost cause about your exam. You just want to forget about your test for a few minutes. Maybe a couple of hours at most. “I’ll take up on your offer. What I’ve been doing is not working, and I need some sort of break before I go insane.”

Miguel grins and then puts his reading materials away. You always think that he looks so handsome when he smiles. “Well then. Move your books and laptop aside and sit on the table for me.” Miguel looks at you when you stare at him. “It will be a lot nicer like that, trust me.” He adds.

“Okay, I’ll get my stuff out of the way.” You say and begin picking up your books and laptop. Miguel does the same, putting his things away, then turns his attention to look at you.

You’re sitting on the edge of the table, waiting for his next words. The beating of your heart thumping is the only thing you can hear as you watch Miguel. He stands in front of you in between your thighs. Tall, built and handsome. His red eyes look down on you as they shine under the lights in the dining area.

You feel his hands on the sides of your waistband shorts, his fingers brushing against your clothed skin and hips. “May I?” Miguel asks as he looks at you.

“Sure,” you say. You’re not one to be nervous around easily but your roommate seems to have that effect on you. When you lift your hips slightly, Miguel curls his fingers on the waistband and pulls down your shorts. Discarding your clothed item you notice that he’s taken off your panties too. “Miguel–”

His stare made you pause, his red piercing eyes keep you quiet. You’ve always known what Miguel’s eyes are like but in this moment of what you’re letting him do to you, it stirs feelings in you. The gaze in his eyes is fiery in desire; so focused and enraptured. He looks at you in silence – keeping his eyes on you – as he slowly pulls down everything and discards it somewhere in the room.

“Open your legs a little for me, pretty,” Miguel tells you. “Yes, that’s it.”

The heat on your cheeks burns you as your heart thumps in your chest at how intimate and vulnerable the situation looks. Never in your dreams you would be in this situation, much less doing it with Miguel O’Hara.

“It’s not too late to change your mind and tell me no.” He says. Standing between your legs, his calloused fingers on your inner right thigh. “I won’t hate you for it.”

Your breathing is soft and steady. “Shouldn’t you have asked me that before you took my panties off?” You chuckled with a small smile. You feel a little more relaxed about what you and he are starting.

Miguel grins, “I probably should have.” His expression becomes serious. “I’ll start slow.”

You watch as he puts two fingers in his mouth with a gentle suck. When he pulls them out, his digits are glistened wet under the lights. Lubricated and wet against his tan skin. Miguel catches you dazing at him, his intense expression stays on you, as he brings his fingers between your thighs. They find themselves between your flaps, tracing your inner folds with his fingertips.

“You’re already wet before I touch you.” Miguel hums in approval. “That’s good.”

His fingers move slowly like he promised. You feel him gather your sleek arousal with a gentle swipe of his thumb and move up to the hood of your cunt. You moan softly when you feel Miguel play with your clit, circling and putting just the right pressure that has you tingling in sensation. Your hands grip on the edge of the table as you brace yourself.

“Gosh, that feels nice.” You sigh. Your eyes are closed, indulging in the pleasure, finding your body relaxed and mind in tranquillity. Focusing on feeling his fingers touch and tease your folds and clit. Maybe this is what you truly need for a break from intense studying.

“I like the look on your face,” Miguel tells you. You can picture the smirk from the tone of his voice. “This is just the beginning of your stress relief.”

You didn’t get to open your eyes and ask him what he meant when you felt something push inside your cunt. Your walls are wet and warm, feeling one of Miguel’s digits sliding into your pussy with ease. It has you gasping and moaning softly, your back arches and hands gripping tightly onto the table edge. Miguel has his index finger in you and he slips in his middle finger, stretching your pussy open. His thumb is still circling your clit as his fingers thrust in and out of you.

“Stay still, bonita.” His voice deeps, almost growling. “And don’t think. Just focus on the feeling of my fingers. Relax for me.”

You can’t help but tighten around his fingers from the command. Hoping that he didn’t feel the way your clit throbs from his command. You never heard him speak like that before – maybe not to you – but it sounds hot. All you could focus on is the way his fingers rub and massage your pussy.

You can tell that Miguel is certainly experienced with the way he can tease your vulva and play with your clit, letting your breathless sighs and moans guide him. It’s completely easy to forget about anything else but being finger fuck by the guy you liked.

“Oh, oh.” You softly moan, putting the heels of your feet on the edge of the table. Your hands clutch onto his forearms as Miguel fingers you. It has your head spinning with the way he alternates between fingering and rubbing your slick folds. The pace is not fast or slow-- just perfect, as it eases you off and you forget about what you're stressed about in the first place.

And when he pushes his fingers into your pussy, it has you tilting your head back in ecstasy, moaning his name, as you feel him going deeper.

"So tight around my fingers. You definitely need this." Miguel smirks, his breath warms your neck. “Need a good stretch, don’t you, bonita?”

You groan as you feel him continuously plunge his digits in and out of you. Miguel doesn’t stick to one way to pleasure you; he would rub your wet folds, flicker your clit up and down and sideways with his thumb, and circle your little pearl. At the corner of your eye, you see the corner of his mouth curve up in a smirk when clutching onto his forearms for dear life.

“Miguel,” you mewl. The knot in your lower belly tightens when he plunges his whole fingers into your slick pussy, thrusting them in and out. Your body moves in a sudden, forward thrust when Miguel continues to come hither inside your pussy, having his fingers rubbing your G-spot. He doesn’t stop to flicker and circle your throbbing clit and a sultry gasp catches in your throat as your thighs begin to quiver. “Oh, fuck!”

“That’s it, beautiful. Oh, you really do need this, don’t you?” Miguel asks almost mockingly. You arch your back in his embrace and let out another moan, feeling his two fingers flicking inside your pussy walls. He knows exactly what he’s doing, drawing out more noises from you as your lower body still trembles, and your cum spilling out of your folds and onto his fingers.

It feels as if Miguel is toying with you and pussy for a long time, even after being overstimulated and sensitive. He slows down his ministrant but still has his fingers gently rubbing circles on your clit and wet folds. You relax in his arm, head on his shoulder as you regain your senses from orgasm. All thoughts cleared up in your head and you couldn’t even remember what you were thinking or doing earlier before being finger-fucked.

Miguel’s voice sounds a little raspy and distinct, still toying with your cunt, as he whispers: “Wanna continue this elsewhere?”

TAGLIST GROUP:

@99matterss @manlikemilesmyguy @therealloopylupin2099 @oyayablog @tojishugetiddies @miauamy @pigeonmama

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel smut #miguel atsv #miguel o'hara imagine #the miguel effect #* jan 24 reads #fic: stress reliever #written by © lavie

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murdrdocs · 1 month

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stiles deserves road head fs

reader has hair long enough to tie back; MDNI 18+

there were times when you absolutely hated stiles' jeep.

it wasn't particularly fit for road trips, even without considering the unreliability of the engine and stiles' handiwork of duck tape temporarily keeping things together. compared to lydia's car for example, the seats were stiff and barely allowed for any sleeping room. leaving you sitting upright with your head resting against the window and knocking into the metal of the interior any time stiles' ran through a pothole.

but there were times when the truck had redeemable qualities, namely the lack of a center console.

sure, it would've been nice to have something to rest your hand on as you wrapped your mouth around stiles' cock. but really, beggars couldn't be choosers and in this scenario both you and stiles were beggars.

so stiles drives a little smoother, settling on the outside lane to leisurely cruise instead of being pressured by trucks bigger than his in the inside lane. and this way, he gets to enjoy your lips sliding up and down his cock, and you aren't facing the plausible threat of losing your grip on the seat next to stiles' thigh and hitting the floor.

it's as comfortable as you can get. one hand pressed into cracking leather with the other resting on stiles' thigh. your seatbelt more of a decoration than anything as it loops around your body in a way that allows you to kneel on the seat, your ass turned towards the window. stiles' has one hand resting on your back between the end of your sweatshirt and the beginning of your leggings. the other rests on the steering wheel, effectively opening his body up to your work.

the tape in the radio has long ended, leaving space for the music from stiles' lips to fill the area. the sound of his breathing, deep sighs nearly each time you went down. the sound of his grunts each time you came up and swirled your tongue around him.

he tries to praise you every so often, but stiles' brain can only handle so much stimulation. and focusing on the road while also focusing on you is all he can take, leaving him to utter unfinished sentences.

"doing so ..."

"jesus, you're so ..."

"mhm, right ... right t–"

your hair has been tied back since the first half hour of the trip, but between your intense sing-alongs and your less intense naps, only half of your hair remains in the tie, leaving stiles to push your hair back, holding it off of your face.

in an attempt to thank him without sacrificing his pleasure, you look up at him and smile as best as you can. but since your mouth is occupied, the look transfers mostly to your eyes.

you don't know what does it, but stiles glances down at you, stares into your eyes for less than a minute, and then grips your hair as his hips jerk up into your mouth, his foot slams down onto the gas pedal, and he cums right down your throat.

#received: jan 8 2024 #stilesworld!#stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x you #stiles stilinski smut #celeste writes misc

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danistartt · 1 year

Text

Gentleman- Jamie Tartt

pairings: jamie tartt x reader, richmond team warnings: language. i think i read this one too many times. about: request! secret dating because reader works for Richmond (as like pr or physio or something) but when they win a match one day Jamie is so overcome with joy he just has to kiss her

“Don’t you think someone is bound to get worried you’re coming in here every day?” you wonder, pinching away individual blades of grass stuck among the fuzzy dandelions of Jamie’s socks.

“Nah,” he says, watching your careful attention from his place on the pillow. He’s feeling bad about putting his muddy shoes over your clean lap, but you haven’t complained once, only appreciating the easy access to touch him. “They don’t know I come up here.”

You look perplexed. “Where do they think you go?”

Jamie shrugs. “The loo?”

“The one not in the locker room? Six times a day for ten minutes?”

“I keep myself hydrated,” he tells you, lifting up his water bottle to wag it at you. “Y’know, to keep up appearances.”

You chuckle, pushing the web of your thumb around his ankle and trying to touch your pointer. Your phone blinks up at you, the time precarious. Your hand slackens. “You need to get back soon.”

Jamie gets that sticky feeling he does whenever he has to leave something, gross and pleading at the pit of his stomach, his every cell calling out for him to use his time better. He wants to touch you like you’re touching him. He shifts onto his elbows and stares at you. “I can be a little late.”

You frown at the idea, your hands still and warm on his calves. “No, Jamie.”

“Yes, Jamie,” he murmurs, his arms making quick succession in tugging you to him. He’s strong, he’s always been strong, but you don’t tend to notice until he’s pulling you out from beneath his legs and hugging you in a single movement.

You don’t want to encourage him but you want even less to not make your delight shown at being pressed against his chest.

The minute changes. Your care for it begins to dwindle.

“Jamie!” you squeal, not moving.

He says your name in the same tone, as condescending as he used to be but sweetened by the kiss he presses against your hair. “C’mon, love,” he encourages, a horrid influence working.

“No,” you insist weakly. “Ted’s waiting for you. The team’s waiting for you.”

“But I’ve been waitin’ for this all day,” he complains pointedly. “Maybe I should trip o’er the ball or somethin’. Make a nice excuse to spend hours here with ya.”

“Jamie Tartt? Not believable.”

He makes a pleased noise, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “You’re right.”

Another minute. Ted’s brown eyes bore into your subconscious.

Painfully, you peel yourself off of Jamie, slotting his thighs between your own. You watch his pupils dilate from above him.

“No,” you start, gently holding his face in your hands in a plea and causing the opposite effect you’d meant to. “No time. Later.”

He grasps your coat tightly.

“I promise. Just go to practice.” You spy the time and scramble off of him. “Now.”

He groans, catching your wrist when you hurry to collect the loose strands of his hair. He holds up a hand, pinky finger outstretched, and stares in question.

You roll your eyes but hook your own through his, a grin making its way to his face. “Y’know these’re binding, right?” he asks pragmatically.

You’d taught him that. The prick. “Yes,” you say exasperatedly, trying to pull him off the couch.

“‘M goin’,” he mutters, letting you. “I’ll see you in half an hour.”

“No you will not,” you gasp. “They’re going to think you have a bladder infection.”

“I’ll make somethin’ up,” he shrugs, looking around. He picks up your keys off your desk and wags them. “Maybe you dropped your keys when you were headin’ in.”

“Jamie,” you warn. “You can’t leave the team so much because, beside the fact that they’ll notice something is up, you actually like being with them and—”

“I like you better. A lot prettier.” He closes his fingers around the keys.

You inch closer slowly, but he’s undeterred and blows you a kiss, leaving your office with only muddy tracks left in his place before you can catch up. “Do not come by in half an hour!”

He listens to you. Kind of.

You see him a few hours later, a cocky glaze on his features, keys clicking against one another. “Hey, doc, I think ya dropped somethin’.”

You snatch them from him. “What a gentleman.”

“Right? Had to fight for it, too. Coach must really like returning keys.”

“How’d you get him to give them up?”

“I jus’ left,” he shrugs.

You gape at him. “What?”

“I told ‘im I found your keys, he said he’d give ‘em to you after practice. I said you might need ‘em now and then I just went inside ‘fore he could call Will over. I should actually be gettin’ back now, our screaming break’s probably over.” He slinks over to you and kisses your forehead, smelling like grass and sweat and lavender detergent.

“What?” you echo.

“I’ll see you later. Can you pick up some food before you get home? Kent don’t really like it when I leave the screamin’. Says it’s most effective on me.”

He smiles at you, waves, and leaves you perplexed.

You put down what he stole from you and notice vibrant pink peeking beneath metal, a green stem’s end through the ring. When you pull it out, you recognize it as one of the flowers that keep growing at the far right edge of the field. You melt into your seat, pouting at the crumpled petals.

“So, what’s the verdict, Doc?” Ted asks when you come out of your room, dipping a finger behind your right glove.

“He’ll be okay. He can play this week’s game as long as he doesn’t put too much pressure on his foot. I told him to ice it periodically for two days and then just make sure it isn’t swelling.”

“No permanent damage, then?”

You laugh. “No permanent damage.”

Sam pushes your door open, leaning on a crutch.

“How you feelin’, champ?” Ted asks.

Sam shrugs. “I’ve been better. At least Doctor Y/n gave me the all clear for this week.” He looks pointedly at you, as if Ted might need confirmation from you.

“Under what conditions?” you pry.

“Rest, ice, compress, and elevate,” he lists off his fingers.

“The most important for you, Mr. Obisanya, being…”

“Not being on it for two days,” he answers, ever the great student.

“I wish all my patients listened as well as you do,” you commend, letting him go with a smile.

Ted watches him go, turning back to you with a cheery expression. “Well, thank you, Doc.”

“It’s what I’m here for.” You toy with your gloves, listening to the team erupt in noise once Sam assumedly gets back.

“And also to bring a smile to all our faces. Not to say that’s a purpose. Just a nice bonus.”

You laugh. “Thank you, Ted. Is there anything else you need from me?”

He shakes his head. “Oh, no, no. Just wanted to ask if you were interested in goin’ out with the team and I tonight.”

“Where are you going?”

“Oh, just the Crown and Anchor. We haven’t officially asked ‘em yet, but one thing that doesn’t change no matter where we are is that athletes always appreciate a good drink with good company.”

“Very true,” you murmur, contemplating. You hadn’t gone out with the boys in a while and you were beginning to miss their antics. You could sit around the house for the evening, or you could spend that same evening a little drunk with your friends. “You know what? Sure. I’d love to.”

“Alrighty then!” Ted cheers, pleasantly genuine in the way no one else is. “I’ll let ‘em know. We’ll see ya later, Doc!”

“You too, Ted!” you call after him, slumping into your chair once you’re alone. Your phone vibrates from the table, lighting up with a picture of Jamie that he’d insisted you set as his profile picture. “Hello?”

“Coach says yer coming with us tonight?”

You stare at your door. “He just left. How could he have possibly already told you that?”

“Team groupchat. He was very insistent about it an' m'honestly not that upset about it anymore.”

You laugh. “I am going. Are you?”

“Course. D’you want me to pick you up?”

“How do we explain that?”

“I’m a gentleman?”

“To this degree? Do you think they’d believe that?”

“I’ll go before. Help ya pick out your clothes, put ‘em on?”

“You’ll see me when I get there.”

“C’mon, love. I want to be the first.”

“You always are!”

“Do you really wanna risk that streak?”

“Yes.” Other voices begin to filter in, still far away but getting closer. “I’ll see you there, Jamie. I love you.”

Jamie pauses, a soft shuffling noise preceding what is clearly Jamie’s palm curving around his phone’s speaker. “I love ya, too,” he whispers. You hang up, leaning into your seat. Your phone zzpts in your hand.

send a picture. Three dots, blinking in and out. please.

Humming, you debate it before: i’ll think about it.

Jamie, of course, is the first to see you.

He looks for you in every creak of the pub door, slyly craning his neck to check for the color of your hair or the burgundy coat you tend to wear on these outings. When he finally catches sight of you, he looks away, satisfied to have been the owner of the first glance.

The others spot you quickly, raising their beers in your direction. Zoereaux puts your drink in your hand, cold bubbles splashing the curve of your thumb.

You thank him, kissing his cheek in greeting as the others crowd you. “Maybe I should be worried you all know my order.”

“Absolutely not,” Ted chimes in from your other side. “Knowledge is love.” He hugs you too. “Glad you could make it, Doc.”

You push yourself onto a seat next to Jan Maas, tipping your glass at him. “You look nice,” he says.

“Thank you,” you respond. “You too.”

“Doc?” Isaac asks.

“You can call me by my name, Isaac.”

He wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “Nah. Feels weird now.”

“Alright. What’s up?”

“My sister says thank you for the advice. Her leg’s all better now and she told me to invite you over for dinner.”

“She doesn’t have to do that.”

“She insists.”

“You should just accept,” Colin says. “She makes a good Shepherd’s pie and won’t give up.”

Isaac nods, jutting a finger in his direction.

“Of course, then. Can’t wait.”

The conversation continues, and you indulge a glance at Jamie to find him looking back at you, an inquisitive pull to his brows. Your eyebrows jump, trying to ask a question with only your features.

You pull your phone from your pocket and begin typing out a message for him when the topic somehow heads back to you.

“Hey, d’you end up going on that date?” Bumberbatch asks suddenly.

You blink. Jamie turns to him curiously. “What?”

“With the prick. You know. Coiffed hair, All puffed up.”

“Um.” You try very hard to not look at Jamie, who’s surely staring at you with wide, amused eyes. “Yes. Yes I did.”

“How’d it go?” Isaac urges. Your mouth is open with no certain words to comfort.

“Yeah. How’d the date with the prick go?” Jamie pipes up, sliced brow up. He’s awful. Truly, truly awful and he knows it.

You force a smile at him. “Not as bad as I thought.” The team mumbles in satisfaction but Jamie doesn’t give.

“Not as bad, huh?” Jamie repeats, lips thinning in thought. “I dunno.” He does a little shake of his head and licks his lips, meeting your eyes again. “Maybe it went a little better than that?”

You clear your throat, heat rising to your face though you try desperately to keep it down.

Colin raises a brow. “Why would you say that?”

Jamie shrugs, unfairly unphased. “Just askin’.”

The attention moves off of you. You glare at him.

He smiles and, in the wake of a controversial argument between cartoons, winks at you. Your legs go weak.

You’re supposed to sit with the coaches during matches. Keeley had been upset at first and Rebecca sorry, offering a replacement medical professional for a game if you were so inclined to observe a game from the box seats, but you’d refused. Your place, although precarious with flying balls and the grandest source of stress, is kind to you.

You sit behind Ted during matches. The back of his head is surprisingly comforting in the tensest points of a match, and you find you can catch the preliminary movements of his fingers when you’re nearby.

There isn’t much contorting you have to do to sprint into the field if you’re needed, and the seat itself isn’t too bad when you’re not. Also, you have a great view.

You’re close enough to feel the strength with which the players kick the ball, you’re part of the very exclusive audience to the coaches’ hope, and when he gets close enough, Jamie can hear your cheers for him very clearly.

You’re completely sure he can hear you now, shouting at the top of your lungs up front with the coaches, fists tight enough to shake. He speeds up with renewed energy, the ball a blur between fast legs and fake passes. You grasp Roy’s arm with everything in you and let your eyes move to the timer. Less than fifteen seconds to go and a tie glares in blocky red numbers.

Your fingers spark with something hot, curling tighter around Roy’s wrist when the ball is passed to Jamie.

The time goes by too slowly and the ball flies too fast, a defender slamming to the ground with his hands up as Jamie’s kick sends the ball into the net. The clock ticks for the last time. The arena erupts in sound and a combination of red and blue.

You scream, finally letting go of Roy to drag your hands to your face. Isaac and Dani embrace on the field, most of the others running toward Jamie but Jamie is sprinting toward you.

You realize too late what’s going on, too proud of Jamie, too dizzy on adrenaline and excitement to realize what’s about to happen and why it shouldn’t.

He comes up to you beaming, picking you up easily and spinning you around. You respond immediately, palms against his warm cheeks, lips pressing repeatedly against his forehead and then finally his lips. “You did so good,” you praise, hoping he can hear you even through the overwhelming noise. “I’m so proud of you.”

He grins, finally catching your lips and lowering you to the floor. It takes only two seconds for what happened to settle in. You can see it on his face, the exhilaration contorting into recognition. He finally looks away from you and gulps.

The stadium is still loud, but most of the team is looking at you, caught in differing positions of celebration. Ted stares at the both of you, jaw dropped.

“What do we do?” he whispers to you. “Do you think they’ll believe it if we say it was an accident?”

“No,” you respond just as quietly. “No, I don’t think so.”

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt reader insert #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt fluff #jamie tartt fic #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt secret relationship #jamie tartt x reader fluff #secret relationship #jamie tartt x reader secret relationship #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #jan maas #richmond team x reader

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janstevenswife · 6 months

Text

Can we please give a round of applause for the writers who write the most unholy, jaw dropping, leg shaking smut🤭

#brienne of tarth #gwendoline christie #jan stevens #lady jane #lucifer #miranda hilmarson #captain phasma #jane murdstone #larrisa weems #gwen #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #smut

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rippersz · 22 days

Text

𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Zombie Apocalypse AU w/ Gwendoline Christie characters; (~9.2K words)

(Featuring: Larissa Weems, Brienne of Tarth, Jane Murdstone, Anna from WTM, Lucifer Morningstar, Miranda Hilmarson, Captain Phasma, and Jan Stevens) x Reader

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It started about two months ago. Russia went down first, then Mongolia. China. India. And in the midst, Finland, Sweden, Norway, the United Kingdom, down to the very southern tip of Africa. The Ocean is no killer of disease, frozen or not, and encouraged it to ravage South and North America, then Canada and Greenland. Until every place was overrun by dead freaks. Stinking corpses and moving gore.

They traveled in herds, packs, whatever it was that people wanted to call them—murders, perhaps—and shuffled aimlessly across any land they could find. Eager for food, for sustenance, to fill the empty bellies that would never be full. Gorging themselves on creatures like you.

Officially ‘the other’. Officially ‘the enemy’. The sole survivor of a good group that was attacked some days ago because an idiot forgot to shoot one of the creatures in the head. And by sunrise, it was over. Screams echoed into the silence and you soon found yourself alone… running for your life with a duffle bag over your shoulder (slowing you down) and a gun in your hand (low on ammo). Trekking through thick woods in a heavily-infested Vermont town was not a good idea, but you had no choice. The house you were camping in was left behind, ravaged by bullets that you put into your friend’s heads, and every other spot nearby had been looted. You couldn’t move all of those bodies yourself. You couldn’t do much yourself. There was no army background attached to your name, no conspiracy theorist survival-obsessed gene in your body, and not much training in fighting either. All you could do was run. Run and run and run until you were miles away and your lungs started to burn. Not the most useful skill considering most people could run, but if you were quick enough to speed past the shuffling bastards, you were quick enough to make it to safety.

—

Safety…what a joke. A shit joke. A joke that was, quite honestly, the worst joke to ever exist. There was no safety. No place, nowhere. You’d been walking for a few hours, hearing nothing but the forest’s silence, and stumbling over leaves and branches. They ravaged the animals, took them into their mouths like they were people, and ate until there was nothing left. Not even a squirrel, or a fox, and the birds had grown weary of the vast number of hunters (both dead and undead) that found themselves in the woods looking for food. So no birds either. And no houses. And you were pretty sure, as you paused to catch your breath, that you were doomed.

Only a few bullets left and your aim was never perfect. One knife tucked into your waistband but it was getting uncomfortable, digging into your skin, and caked in blood. Creature blood. Everything smelled horrible. Like burning flesh or dirty meat, raw and soiled. You probably didn’t smell too good either. It wasn’t like the world still worked without the people; only a few places had running water and you couldn’t trust the creeks and rivers. The undead enjoyed walking through shallow water, knowing somehow that there’d probably be prey nearby.

But you hadn’t seen anything in a while. A long while. A suspiciously long while...

Everything was green and brown around you, whisked by wind and soil, and you stood out like blood against snow. The last thing you saw was yesterday. Ever since? Not a single flash of undead flesh.

You swallowed, throat embarrassingly dry, and tapped your fingers against your thigh.

It wasn’t good when everything was still. You were vulnerable, out in the open, and without a good few rounds of bullets to spare. Every muscle and organ in your body screamed for mercy, crying with the effort it took to keep surviving even when you didn’t want to.

You thought about it a few times; gave the gun in your hand a long look on several occasions, but ultimately decided that ‘opting out’ was only a last resort. Somehow, even amidst the chaos and hatred and swill of humanity’s nature, you managed to hold hope. And often wondered where it would get you. How it would get you. While you were sleeping? While you were already wounded? Fighting off the hands of a loved one? The twist of hope’s rope… would you feel it closing in around your neck? A literal metaphor for the eventual death you’d experience?

Thinking about it gave you a headache.

For where was the point in wondering?

You had no one else. Whatever form of death awaited, it would end up being your fault. Probably because you couldn’t run fast enough. Probably because-

Because-

Wait.

Somewhere behind you, on the right, was a low sound. A hum. The smooth whoosh of something quick. The parting of wind… the low growl of…

“Fuck.”

You shot off in that direction, bag smacking against your shoulder blades, and instantly felt the exhaustion pull at your body again. It lingered like a plague, like the undead disease, and you yearned to fall to your knees - to give in - but it wasn’t the time for that. You had to at least try. You had to at least make it over the hill. Right over the hill. So close but so far. You leaned forward, threw yourself at the ground, and grasped onto gnarled tree roots. The Earth smelled wet with decay, sweet with promise - you huffed against dry leaves. They crunched and scratched at your fingers, eventually crinkling into nothing when your arms worked to drag you up. You probably looked a little mad, scrambling up a steep hill to reach something that probably won’t save you, but there was no other option. The hum grew louder, the quiet was broken, and you only had a few moments to get this right.

“Help!” Your lungs caved around your scream, but the forest swallowed it instantly. Greedy trees with their greedy barks, wanting to keep you hidden from salvation. The hum grew louder. Your fingers grew clammy, sweating and slipping against rough wood.

You’d be bruised to high heaven later, and probably exhausted, but the hum and the growl of an engine meant a road and a road meant civilization and goddammit you just needed to get over the stupid fucking hill.

There was a loud ringing in your ears, nearly deafening, and making your voice sound fuzzy.

“Help! Help!”

Was that you? Were you the one screaming like that? Why couldn’t you be quiet? Those things could have been lurking… wandering nearby… coming up behind you, eager to grasp at your ankles and drag you back down to Hell.

A glance back over your shoulder, aching from the duffle bag, found nothing but blurred terrain and darkened leaves–a symptom of the setting sun. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. If the light went out, you’d be screwed. You couldn’t use the last of your matches and the world went black when evening struck. So there really was no choice. As the growl turned into a roar… there was no choice. Just a little higher- a little more. Your arms pushed, biceps straining against the cotton of your shirt, and your pants threatened to get caught on wayward sticks and tear into rags. The boots on your feet pressed hard against loose rocks, kicking them out of place, and gained just enough ground to push you up - over the ridge. The final stretch. Your chest pushed to the hard dirt and forced a grunt of effort from your tired body; the sound echoed through the woods, through the ground, and through the air that sat above the concrete road in front of you. Hard and vast, grey and long… you looked at it as though it were the holiest of grails, lying just beside it with your arms outstretched, your fingers still pulling at dirtied grass. Soil covered your skin, masked your features, caked beneath your fingernails, and when the roar of the speeding vehicle grew so close you had to close your eyes and wince, you knew raising a hand for help would not be enough. In the shade of the forest’s edge, half draped over the peak of the hill, you were inhuman to other survivors. Your dry mouth opened, your throat croaked, and your legs moved to push you up–closer–just short of the wind that caressed your hair when the car, the truck, ran past you with no second glance. You looked after it, watched it pass, and felt the burn in your heart grow into its own inferno. It licked at your insides, at your desperation, and had you hauling the duffle bag off of your shoulder and out onto the road. It rolled, a shuffling sound, and you followed after it with deep growls of effort and dwindling strength.

“Please,” you wheezed, panting for breath as soon as you staggered up to your feet.

In the distance, the car turned into a disappearing black spec. It drove and drove, out of sight, and you stood there, putting your arms in the air to wave it down and bring it back. To beckon it back. To beg and plead.

“Please please no-,” your voice was soft, weakened by days of rugged survival, “no…” rough and lost to the wind, it dissipated into nothing and you were forced to swallow again.

The thick smell of car exhaust settled against the steaming road. You watched the horizon, tracking the space in the atmosphere where the gold traced into a deep blue, and felt your bones quake beneath your skin. Their final cry. The last hurrah as you watched your future, the tatters of it, drive away from you.

Too late.

You were too late.

And you’d die there, on that road, and they may never come back and find you again in the morning. And your corpse would be chewed upon by undead bastards who would never give you a proper burial. And you’d be just another stupid human that found themselves trampled beneath the stinking feet of the walking dead.

Tears teased your eyes, burning the dry lands of your irises, and you felt the heart in your chest lurch against its cage.

Too late.

You were too late.

You had a duffle bag, a handgun somewhere off to the side, and the clothing on your back. One lasting water bottle, the knife you felt poking your side, and small bags of food that wouldn’t last you long at all. The tent, too, was destroyed by animals the night before. The most you could go was perhaps one more day, but your feet were aching so terribly that each step was a journey within itself. And you couldn’t push yourself to go further. There was no further. There was nothing in the woods and there was nothing beyond the road and you were running on fumes that no longer existed.

But you couldn’t just lie there and take it. You were about to reach over, bending at the waist, to grab your bag. To pull it up over your shoulder and trek on, even though it was pointless. But something stopped you.

Something–a sound–made you freeze.

It was faint. It didn’t sound like the undead, with their discordant groans and disgusting squelches, no… it was far. Getting closer. Closer. The hum and the growl. The purr of a motor. The hiss of pavement.

Your head snapped up, eyes bulging wide as you looked over the horizon to see…. Yes. Yes! Yes, it’s them! The car! A grin pulled at your lips. Halle-fucking-lujah! You felt the anxiety ebb, slowly falling away from your body, as they got closer. The black spec turned into a black blob, then a figure that took shape, and finally you could make out a Vermont license plate and the dirt that stuck to big wheels. Up close, it was a sleek thing, tall and well-built. Midnight black and aside from the splatter on the rubbered wheels, it was polished and clean. The dark paint reflected the bright world around you, turning it into weird warped versions of a faux-paradise. You swallowed at the feel of warmth against your legs, the exhaust from the truck flooding over the smallest sliver of skin around your ankles. Suddenly fearing a changed mind and bad intentions, you stumbled back until your heels pushed against your bag.

Tinted windows stared down at you, menacing and opaque. Not a thing to see behind them, even if you squinted. Nothing moved, nothing jumped, and you watched with bated breath for a window to roll down - until finally, it did.

The driver’s side. It went whirr-ing down, sliding for the shortest period of time in the world until only a shadow met you - and then a flicker of movement. And then-

“Oh my god! Jesus! Okay okay!” You flinched, not even hesitating to raise your hands above your head. You spread your fingers out, desperate to prove your innocence to the stranger in the car. And the gun they were holding, pointing at you, through the gap.

“Were you bit?” A rough voice, muted and deep, broke the atmosphere.

You shook your head.

“Words. Use them.”

“No,” you licked your lips, instantly deciding to turn around in a slow circle. “Not bitten. Not scratched.” You tried to ignore the way your hands shook, even as you shifted all the way back to face the gun’s muzzle.

“Ask where…” a voice, soft and feminine, came from somewhere beyond the driver’s seat. It was saying something, telling something, but faded into a whisper so quiet you couldn’t hear a thing. Your eyes shifted to the dark backseat windows, trying to see something- anything- and found no surprise in the lack of life.

“Any weapons?” The driver seemed to ignore the other person, and instead held the gun steady. You watched it with weary eyes.

“Yes.” And before they could ask, you tugged the knife out of your belt and the gun out of your pants pocket. They were held up in the air, another white flag, and you twitched the hand that held the firearm. “At least three bullets left, but that’s it.”

“And the others?”

You blinked. “Others? What oth-”

“Where is the rest of your ammunition? In the skull of a human or scum?” The stranger spat, and you detected the hints of an accent.

Scum… you’d never heard them referred to as that before. Your last group called them walkers, and some others claimed flesh-eaters. You were tempted to use ‘zombies’, but it felt rather silly. The world took that term too lightly, and the undead were nothing if not a very serious problem. But scum? Like they were beneath humanity and not its current destroyer? You’d ask about it later, you decided, if they deemed you well enough to take in.

“Both,” you breathed honestly, dropping your weapons to your sides with a heavy sigh. “They um- weren’t quite there yet. Got ambushed overnight.”

The gun still didn’t move.

“They don’t ambush. What really happened?”

Hm. They weren’t wrong. Animated corpses didn’t ‘ambush’, but when a herd of them went lurking about, it certainly felt that way. You didn’t think logistics were entirely necessary, but you understood the need for specifics. Trust among men was eviscerated in the face of danger, especially against those once living. You’d seen paranoia before, in others. Humans simply didn’t take each other in anymore… not without some level of severe mistrust. The second thought after seeing the truck drive off was that you probably wouldn’t be accepted anyway - you’d killed without technical reason. Could have just left. Run away.

But you didn’t.

You didn’t want to see them turn into those… creatures.

So what else was there to say? You stared at the gun, willing a click and the shot of a bullet, as you opened your mouth.

“A herd. A lot of them. Just… descended upon the place. Someone might’ve been walking around in the woods or something, and there was just not enough protection,” you paused, licking your lips, “...I was the last one alive. Had to shoot them and go.”

“How long since?”

“Few days, give or take,” you shrugged. The exhaustion only built as you stood there, trying not to sway and collapse in your spot. The truck was still running, hissing hot exhaust; it was the first genuinely warm thing you’d felt in so many days that you wanted to crawl underneath and take a nap. The world, turning to autumn, was growing chilly. There was no chance you could survive winter on your own.

“...Give or take,” you heard the driver scoff and laugh, bitter and mean. You frowned.

Then the window started going up, and you couldn’t help yourself. With a hard thunk, you pushed your shoulder hard against the car, and knocked on the thick glass with the butt of the knife. A look of utter desperation crossed your features, heavy and thick. Urgency, anxiety, fear forced any sense from your mind. There was no chance. There was no survival at all.

“No please- please I can’t be out here alone please- I’m smart and- and I can run fast and be an asset. Please,” you shook your head, searching with worried eyes, “please, please you can’t do this to me-”

Something dark spliced through the corner of your vision, dragging a shadow with it, and you just barely dodged the sudden swing of the truck’s backseat door. It bounced with force and you glanced back at the driver’s window once before stepping back and hastily swinging your bag over your shoulder. The knife and gun were slipped back into your clothing, concealed, and you held yourself strong as the black leathered interior bore itself to the world.

“-we can’t just leave them-”

“-on’t be stupid. They could be a liability-”

“-not stupid. We need more people-”

Voices, at least two, were rushed and tangled in an argument. You didn’t pay much attention to what you could hear, though the growing irritation was hard to ignore. It would be a hassle to be accepted, you knew, but you’d deal. There was no choice. The backseat door was open and there was a figure hustled back against the other window.

“The offer won’t last,” the stranger murmured, somehow louder than the two people in the front seats, and you decided not to take any chances in the world alone.

With a grunt, a push, and a final slam of the door, you found yourself in the truck. Your bag was pushed down by your feet, you tugged your knife out to rest it on your thigh, and you turned to say thank you- but was cut off by a cold blade at your throat. It grazed the soft dirty skin, less than a centimeter away from pushing, and you felt saliva pool in the back of your throat. Swallowing would have pressed you closer, so you fought the urge and only stared.

“Woah-”

“Try anything and you die. I don’t want a peep, not a shuffle. Do I make myself clear?”

The driver’s voice, clearer in such close quarters, was deep and mean. Accent, as you had clocked, from somewhere in the United Kingdom. It held a natural growl, a gruffness from years of smoking, perhaps, and you couldn’t help but sense the intimidation. It wasn’t fake confidence, you noticed, as you looked up and met the cool sharp grey gaze of a woman. Her hair, a deep blonde, was slicked back and short, ruffled slightly by the nape of her neck. A long neck… that led to strong looking shoulders. They were half covered by a jacket, but you could see the strength in the chords of her muscle. A force to be reckoned with. A leader, perhaps. She was pale, with a defined nose and lips twisted into a permanent sneer, and you probably would have thought she had some potential for post-apocalyptic modeling, if it weren’t for the scar that covered one half of her face. Slashed across the left eye, the wound was jagged and rough - it dragged from a point close to the exact middle of her forehead, right to the corner of her jaw. Thicker at parts and thinner at others, it split through a pale eyebrow and seemed to have permanently rendered her blind. The lid didn’t even move when one stormy eye shifted, and you suddenly felt extremely creeped out. Something about her was undeniably cold. Almost reckless, but her hand was so steady with control you knew not to make a move. She’d probably kill without hesitation, dump you back into the road, and drive off with the duffel. There was no choice but to answer, answer quickly, and do as told.

“Yes, clear.” Your head shifted half an inch up and half an inch down, still cautious of the blade.

But she didn’t move.

It was a battle of wills for just a moment, with your hands in your lap, empty and docile. You weren’t looking for a fight, or a staring contest, but the stranger didn’t let up until the figure to your right decided to sit up and speak.

“Ah they do not seem so bad. Look at them. Tired and scared, like sad city mouse,” another woman, one with a Russian accent and a voice a hint too loud, cooed.

Silence followed, persisted, for only a minute- and then the blade was tugged back so quickly you swear it nearly cut the air in two. The driver tsked as she twisted herself around, murmuring as she went.

“More like a rat.”

And then you were thrown to the side with a heavy wheeze as the truck lurched and began moving, working into a turn so you could go back the way they’d come.

You glared at the back of the headrest, not feeling above a little bit of irritation for some poor handling, but eventually grew bored. With some apprehension, your eyes flicked over to the person in the passenger seat. Their profile was strong, feminine, and you noted the unbelievably well-kept head of snowy hair. She looked clean, just like the driver, and a spark of hope welled up in your tired heart. Running water and food existed where they came from, wherever they were camped out, and if you played your cards right, you could finally indulge in some good hygiene. Unless the woman in the passenger seat was stingy with her water… god her skin was so clear, and she seemed to be wearing makeup. No one wore makeup anymore. Not the people in your old group and not the few stragglers you’d stumbled across. It simply wasn’t a necessary luxury anymore, but the woman sitting across from you, back straight and hands in her lap, seemed to think it was of the utmost importance. You wanted to speak, wanted to ask her name, but found yourself turning to your right - and catching the gaze of the person that opened the door for you.

“Anna,” your savior spoke, tilting her head to the left and regarding you with curious eyes. A pale hand, big and long-fingered, shot out and hovered above your lap. You glanced down at it, at the clean skin and the perfect fingernails, and knew that you hit the survivalist jackpot.

With a nod and a quick clasp of her hand, you whispered your name in reply. She nodded before leaning back against the door and crossing her arms; she seemed quite comfortable there, with a rather large gun resting across her lap. Her hair, blonde as well, fell in gentle waves to her shoulders. She saw with deep blue eyes - a contrast to the cold steel of the driver - and didn’t hesitate to flick them over your body in some sort of analytical search. Weapons, you figured, is what she was looking for. And the knife in your lap, which she eyed with some interest.

You wanted to say something, wanted to thank them, but it didn’t feel like enough. Nothing felt like enough those days. Asking something of someone was a risk every single time. And you’d asked—begged—them to take you in. You needed to pull your weight, no questions asked.

“Um- thank you for-”

“Shoot them.”

“What?!” You straightened up, eyes going wide as, in your peripherals, you saw Anna’s hand inch toward her gun. Through the rear-view mirror, you caught the way the driver’s brow twitched.

“You heard me. Shoot them.”

“Pha-”

“I said no talking,” the stranger growled, not even bothering to address the woman in the passenger seat. The white-haired woman looked frustrated, her red lips tugging into a frown, as she watched the driver double down on her focus. “Didn’t I say that?”

“But I-,” you wanted to plead your case, wanted to defend yourself, but were cut off.

“I am not going to shoot,” Anna said before you could speak. “Why do you expect her to be quiet hah, Phasma? We just saved her жопa. No need for fighting.”

You glanced at her, picking up on the Native tongue. Fresh off the boat, or perhaps visiting, with the way she said it so easily. Zhopa? Given the context, it wasn’t hard to tell what she meant. Yes, they had just saved your ass. And yes, you wanted to say thank you. Even if that Phasma person wasn’t too keen on a bit of gratitude.

“I hardly think thanking us for a kind deed is worthy of execution, no matter how much silence you require,” the fair-haired woman across from you said smoothly, throwing a slight glare to the woman on her right. And finally, she took that moment to turn around in the seat and make eye contact.

Something that proved to be far more difficult than you thought it would. Good lord, she was gorgeous. Pale skin, deep admiral blue eyes, and lips redder than blood. Not even a scratch on her face, not even a single spec of dirt - as if the apocalypse never happened and there weren’t dead people roaming every street in the world. In fact, she didn’t seem incredibly worried about the predicament the human species found itself in, and was looking at you with kind eyes, a furrowed brow, and a smile that she hoped was welcoming.

“My name is Larissa,” her hand, gloved in white fabric as soft as silk, reached out as an olive branch. You wanted to take it, wanted to feel something so lovely for the first time in a long time and create some sort of bond, but your hands were very dirty. A part of you guessed that Larissa hadn’t put them on earlier that day with the hope to return to camp holding soft fabric smudged with dirt and dried blood, so you only looked down at your palm and then back at hers.

“Oh uh- I don’t wanna get your gloves dirty-”

“Oh,” she glanced down, realizing that she was, in fact, wearing hand-coverings. “Later, then,” a warm smile shone back at you - and you were helpless, instantly offering her a nod in return.

“Finished?” The driver piped up, eyes cold as she stared at you in the rear-view.

As if on cue, Larissa turned back around in her seat, rolling her eyes as she went, and you could only fall quiet. Introductions were over, you were warming up to the easy heat in the car, and Phasma–if you dared address her by name in your head–had a good handle of the wheel. You were safe. For now. And with one last suspended look at the gun on Anna’s lap, you reached over for the seatbelt, tucked yourself in with a click, and leaned back in the seat. It was so suddenly comfortable, such a huge contrast to the shit you’d dealt with recently, that you couldn’t help but close your eyes and revel. Even for a moment. Even for a second.

—

“Get up,” a mean grunt, paired with a quick rush of piercingly cold air, tugged you from the depths of sleep.

Before you could even open your eyes properly, a shiver set itself into your bones. Eager to escape it, and the confines of the car, you jolted and scrambled for your seatbelt. Leaning against the open door, watching you grab your things, was the driver. Phasma? Weird name, but there was no time to dwell - especially not when she was looking at you like that. Eyes sharper than the knife on your lap, holding a polished chrome pistol in one hand, and waiting with some tension for you to hurry up. The duffel was pulled up onto your shoulder, the knife was tucked into your belt, and your hands scratched at the leather as you looked around wildly for your gun.

“We took it. You’ll get it back when you prove you’re not a complete imbecile,” she spat, peering down her nose at you. Disgust danced in her expression, sparking flames of unwanted insecurity, and you felt compelled to look away. Her nostrils were flared, her pink lips curled into something disdainful and mean, and you couldn’t help but watch the way her jaw shifted as she tensed, watching you watch her. The hatred seemed a bit out of place, too strong for normal trust issues, and you briefly wondered if perhaps she’d always been that way - even before the end of civilization. She was clearly a bitch, and not interested in showing you kindness any time soon, so you decided to forgo a response, ignored her glaring, and slipped out of the car without a word.

Before your feet were completely on the ground, and your bag was out of the way, the door slammed closed behind you, quick and sharp. The speed of it nearly clipped your shirt, and you whirled around to face the stranger’s irritation. She seemed to have lost interest in you and side-stepped your figure without another glance. One finger on the trigger, a shit-ton of audacity-filled swagger in her walk, and a back broad and strong. She looked like an outlaw, tall, mean, wearing grey with a belt around her strong hips and a leather jacket over her shoulders. You wanted to throw your gun at her and watch it hit the back of her head, but there was no way in Hell you’d be able to run away faster than she could catch you.

“Come,” you heard Anna speak, interrupting your train of thought as she trudged up to your left. You turned, seeing the way she cocked her head. “I’ll introduce you.” The gun swayed in her grasp as she turned, making little shuffling sounds in the grass.

The grass.

You went to go forward, but stopped. The grass. It was… terribly neat. Very well maintained. Not like apocalypse grass, which was flat and bloodied and mudded and dusted, but like rich person grass. Striking green grass, healthy, it bounced back behind you when you stepped on it. And the air… you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. It was fresh. Pure. Free of the smell of death and free of gunpowder and spraying blood. Just where on Earth were y-

oh.

Oh.

You looked up, finally, and found yourself in a courtyard. On all sides was a wall, sections of it made of brick, others of stone, and the rest of wrought iron fence, bolted hard into the ground; and across the way, piercing the sky, was a manor. Or what looked like a manor. No - what was definitely a manor. Dark, illuminated slightly by the deep blue of the atmosphere and the torches that littered the ground in neat paths, splitting off into cobblestone sections. You swallowed. It was gorgeous. Untouched. A world that seemed to run on and on while the rest of the globe went to shit.

How fucking lucky were you?

“Come! I must say twice?!” Anna called, giving you an exasperated beckon as she started disappearing behind the dark stone brick of the main entrance.

Sparing a quick glance behind you, you found a fortified gate and short stone walls - reinforced and built upon with barbed wire, wood, and sheets of metal. It must have opened up for the truck when you were still asleep, but was very much firmly shut and impenetrable once closed. You wanted to explore it more, wanted to study the mechanism and the layout and come to understand just how they managed to get the place so protected, but you didn’t want to leave Anna waiting. And a low rumble of thunder, far but rolling quick, told you that rain was eager to make her appearance - and you did not want to get caught in that.

After adjusting your bag and patting the knife in your belt for reassurance, you set off after the Russian stranger.

—

“So I am Anna, this you know already,” she pointed to herself, tapped her chest twice, then rolled her hand over to gesture to the clearing ahead.

It was beautiful, outlined against a dark wood. Rocky paths led to a big circle in the middle, and the ruins of stone benches and statues littered the camp. You could definitely see what it used to be - a beautiful place for the elite to sit, to bask, to enjoy the nice air and the wind. But the end of the world had gotten to it, not with the bearings of total destruction, but with the promise of change. A big spruce shelter had been built to the far left, reinforced with four beams and no walls - clearly just meant to keep the rain at bay while they worked outside. Beneath it, there were wooden benches and designated spots for farming equipment, guns, and even a water purifying system from the looks of it. If you assumed that sleeping quarters and showers existed in the castle, then they seemed to be in the best shape anyone could be in.

Even the people, who were busy going about their evening and tending to their duties, while you watched by Anna’s side and felt your excitement grow.

“Phasma was woman driving. Not so kind,” she tsked, giving you a knowing look, and you found yourself unable to ask about the strange name. You figured she wouldn’t have known the answer anyway. Then her hand moved, stealing your attention. “That is Jane,” she pointed to a pale woman sitting on one of the large stone benches.

Her back was turned, but you could see the severity of her expression in the reflection of a hand mirror. She was handsome, free of makeup, with jet-black hair. The strands fell from between her fingertips, spilling like water, as she threaded them into a braid around her head. Her movements were slow, methodic, and you watched, sort of hypnotized, as the long sleeves of her hooded dress stretched across her slim back. Tight along her arms and resting over the black pants covering her thighs, leading down to knee-high leather boots. Fit for an apocalypse, but somehow still chic. You watched her hands for a moment more, and turned slightly to her right when Anna gestured to the woman beside her.

“Miranda. Good girl, but way too skinskie,” she nodded to herself while crossing her arms.

The stranger in question–Miranda–was holding up an antique hand mirror for Jane to look into while doing her hair. They seemed to be the same height, though Miranda’s build was lankier and toned. The sleeves of her white top had to have been torn off, leaving freckled shoulders free to the air, and around one wrist was a black watch. It nearly matched the same leather as her belt, which held an attached holster and a sleeve for a walkie-talkie. Its antenna stood out against the baby blue of her uniform pants; tight by the hips but baggier toward the ankles, tucked into dark laced boots. Her hair was styled into a fair blonde bob, probably recently cut by the sight of such clean edges. It looked unbearably soft kissing the back of her neck.

“She was policewoman. Strong.” Anna commented, gazing at her from your spot by the castle wall.

You nodded absentmindedly, looking over the two strangers and the chess board that sat between them on the bench. Jane had black and Miranda white. The latter seemed to be focusing quite hard on the game, holding a pawn loosely in one hand, as the dark-haired beauty tsked and adjusted the hand mirror that slowly slipped to the side. You watched Miranda jump and offer what you assumed was a sheepish apology, as she tried to multitask. Her small smile was pink and soft, warm and welcoming. A friend, perhaps.

“Very…domestic,” came your soft murmur, sparked by the surprise of such a peaceful camp. In the past group, everyone was too busy trying to sleep, find food, or talk themselves through panic attacks. Maintaining sanity with comfort was not a priority.

“Da. Comfortable,” your companion nodded. “Jan is there, washing.” And you turned, yet again, to find a figure standing in front of a clothesline.

The combat boots made her seem tall, though they were a bit out of place—not really matching the long white sleeved shirt and full red skirt combo. Immaculate and clean, you noticed, though that was to be expected from a woman trying her hardest to get blood out of a white blouse. Her hands were covered by blue rubber gloves, with one clutched around a sponge and the other around the neck of a bottle of white wine vinegar. On the ground by her feet was a large pale jug of hydrogen peroxide and a bucket of what you assumed was water. And the blouse in front of her, held up by wooden clothespins, rippled from the breeze. It seemed to get colder and windier the longer the night went on, probably bringing the rain with it at some point. With any luck, it would clear up the light splotches of pink that covered most of the shirt’s chest up to the collar, but ‘Jan’ didn’t seem too patient and satisfied with that. She got back to her scrubbing a moment later, the strict waves of her blonde hair bumping gently against her neck.

“Jan is very chic. You go to her for fashion advice, no?” Anna tilted her head at you, dragging dark blue eyes over your face. The lawn lamps stabbed into the grass lit everything up with a sweet warm glow, bringing out the flames in her expression as she peered at you curiously. Very handsome, in her own sharp-featured sort of way. You couldn’t help the snort that bubbled up.

“Respectfully, I think fashion is the least of my concerns right now, Anna.”

“Hm. Maybe,” she hummed, shrugged, and gave you a once-over that set your heart racing before turning her attention back to the group.

“Brienne!” You jumped, flinching away as Anna’s loud voice carried into your ear. In the distance, a hulking figure shifted and unfolded, moving to look up at the call. They were sitting on a big pile of cut logs, holding a stone cylindrical sharpener in one hand and a… sword… in the other. Anna waved, talking to you gently as you both watched the figure’s expression change into one of suspicion. She was handsome. Pale, with the lightest blonde lashes and brows, and eyes that sparkled even from that distance. They squinted, drawing frown lines across her face, as she straightened up in her spot. You tried desperately not to stare at her figure, but it was impossible. The deep blue ribbed shirt clung to her torso like a second skin, wrapping tightly around strong biceps and broad shoulders. It was tucked into muddy green cargo pants, offsetting the brightness of the steel that covered the toes of her dark boots. You tilted your head and watched as she glanced between you and Anna before she finally decided to shoot the woman a firm nod. Anna’s lips quirked up into a smile. “She was once soldier. Good woman - she will protect you if you’re in trouble. Saved me many many times.” Her blonde curls swished as she nodded to herself.

That was good to know, you reasoned. Everyone seemed quite strong. Tall, too. And pale. The camp was gorgeous, the people seemed mundane enough, and the company was… well. Your eyes drifted over to Anna’s side profile, a silhouette of soft dips and curves, and you couldn’t hide the attraction you felt even if you tried.

“Larissa, you know too. She is leader, xорошо?” You didn’t really know what ‘harasho’ meant, but the light intonation of her voice had you saying ‘Yeah’ anyway.

Then an arm was winding itself around yours, jostling the bag on your shoulder and the gun slung around Anna’s body. It rested against her back, hitting her thighs, and you were suddenly powerless to the way she steered you further down the gravel path. Toward the right, there was a makeshift driveway; a patch of land ripped up from the grass and replaced with gravel, soil, and rocks. The black truck made an appearance again, probably having been driven up from around the back, and you watched with curious eyes as Phasma busied herself with a few bags and boxes from the trunk. Jesus, she was fit… tall and lethal. A small grunt left her lips when she hauled two boxes up into her arms, never faltering or pausing. Damn. You found yourself getting lost in the sight of her legs in those cargo pants, filling them out, until Anna clicked her tongue.

“Lucifer is strange, but ultimately harmless. Do not worry, they are not naked under the robe.”

Lucifer? Naked under the what?

You were going to take a quick glance around, to find whatever the hell Anna was talking about, but there was no need. Some feet in front of you, lounging on a red and gold velvet chase, was a lithe figure. They were almost glowing in the reflection of the walkway lamps, with the deep crimson of a flowing silk robe offsetting the smooth pale planes of soft skin. One elbow was propped up on the arm of the chair, and you traced the folds of flowing sleeves up to a slim forearm, wrist, and a delicate hand. Slender fingers were curled under the curve of a pale cheek, and you felt your heartbeat speed up at the sight of soft features and crystal eyes. And their hair, curled so perfectly into handsome shining ringlets of spun golden-web… goodness, they were…

“Luxurious,” you murmured, tilting your head as you watched the stranger chat with Larissa. She was standing over them, in front of the chase, and even at that height, you had a feeling that the one laying down was somehow a little bit taller. “Is Lucifer their real name?”

“Da,” Anna nodded, “little strange, no?”

“Yeah,” you gave her an odd look. “Strange as fuck.”

“Don’t get comfortable,” a voice growled from behind you, making you slip away from Anna’s hold and turn around. Phasma was walking past, holding a big bag under each arm. Her muscle was impressive, but dear god she was an asshole. You had to sort out that situation as quick as possible.

“Hey what’s your problem, man?” You spread your hands out at your sides before letting them slap against your thighs. “You picked me up, and while I’m grateful for that, I am, you didn’t have to-”

“Exactly,” she bit out as she whirled around and marched right back to you. Her breath was cool, washing lightly over your face, and she stood so close that your foreheads nearly touched. From that angle, looking up, you could reach out and trace the jagged line of her scar. It was quite attractive actually, even if her eyes narrowed as she watched you look at her. They were cold. Not an ounce of care.

“Don’t. Get. Comfortable.” Her lips twitched, carrying a silent threat.

“Okay,” Larissa’s voice, sing-songy and weary, cut into the conversation. “Why don’t we all take a moment to calm down, hm?” Her smile was blinding as she turned to you. One gloved hand hovered above Phasma’s right shoulder, but was instantly shrugged off the second it made contact. Her sneer didn’t fade even when she stepped back, eyes still flaming with anger. Larissa cleared her throat. “Y/n, you’re new here. Why don’t you and I have a little chat?”

Her expression, although kind, hid a sharpness that you didn’t think was wise to fuck around with. If Larissa was the leader, according to Anna, then it was her you had to charm. You didn’t really know why she was the top dog, especially because some of the other group members seemed more… abrasive… but clearly something about her was good enough to be the one in charge. And pissing her off, messing around with her people, was a one-way ticket to possibly turning into those fuckers lurking in the woods. So you didn’t really have a choice - and you didn’t really want one. No matter what, you’d stay. You’d be of some help. You’d stay on the soft grass, smelling the clean air. You’d become best friends with Larissa, the group would learn to like you, and you’d try not to combust when any of them looked your way.

Easier said than done though, of course. Especially when Larissa’s smile knocked down all of your reservations at once, in one big swing, and coaxed an obedient nod from your body.

“Okay. Yes. Sure.”

“Perfect,” Larissa’s grin, somehow, grew even wider.

“It’s getting late,” were Phasma’s parting words before she turned away and headed off toward two big wooden double doors.

You watched her strut without much thought, and found yourself on the other end of a staring Larissa. Her eyes were utterly striking in the evening light, and the outline of her face… a sight to be seen for a person as weary as you.

“So… is your group considered women only?” You murmured, peering up at her through your eyelashes.

Red lips twitched.

“Not intentionally. Though we have had the discussion before,” she contemplated her next words carefully, looking all over your face before resuming, “and we think it’s best if it’s just women. And Lucifer.”

“And Lucifer?” You still can’t get over that being their real name. Probably just picked out in a moment of edginess when they were a teen. Lucifer did sound cool, sort of bully-worthy. Like they were emo kid once upon a time.

“Lucifer is what many would refer to as non-binary. Not a man and not a woman. I hope that won’t be a problem?” Something flashed behind her eyes. Not a threat, but a warning. You couldn’t help but smile.

“Not at all. They and I are… one and the same,” you shrugged and adjusted the bag on your shoulder.

“How lucky I must be…,” someone purred from over your shoulder.

You tensed up, surprised by the closeness, and felt yourself grow a little weak at the tone. Like spiced honey, their voice was intense and smooth. You wanted to lap it up.

“Ah right on time for a proper introduction,” Larissa, ever the most efficient woman from what you could tell so far, found herself a golden opportunity. One hand shot out and gestured over to you, then to the person slinking around to your right. “Y/n this is Lucifer, one of the strongest members of our group. Lucifer and I make most of the big decisions, with the necessary input from everyone else. And Lucifer,” Larissa’s grin relaxed into a smile, “this is Y/n. Depending on our discussion of the rules, they may become a familiar face, so I suggest you play nice.”

You found that you couldn’t look to the side without short-circuiting. There was something.. something… about their aura that had you wanting to shy away and cower. It wasn’t the explosive intensity of Phasma or the consuming strangeness of Anna, or even the gentle but strong hand of Larissa… but instead a subtle sort of consumption. Utterly intriguing and fascinating - like they were put on the Earth to confuse humans. You didn’t even look at them and you could feel that. Didn’t even know them and you could feel that. Standing so close. So much body heat.

“It’s a pleasure,” they murmured, turning to you fully.

You swallowed, braced yourself, and looked up to your right.

Sweet holy Jesus. They were even more handsome up close. Just absolutely soft and glorious. And carrying the faint scent of… firewood? You cleared your throat.

“Um yeah- likewise. Hi.”

A flash of black, followed by measured footsteps in the grass, had all three of you shifting to see Jane walking past. Miranda was not too far behind, taking her time to cross the yard.

“Dinner is being prepared. Show face in the next 20 minutes or go to bed hungry.” Jane didn’t even spare you a glance before she disappeared behind the same doors Phasma had gone through.

“Thank you, Jane,” Larissa managed to call just before they closed behind her with a dull bang.

“Three moves…,” Miranda was muttering, holding the box for the chess set in one hand. “She beat me in three moves.”

“Oh it’s not hard. I would’ve beaten you in two,” another voice entered the fray, polite but amused. Jan, you recognized, as she sidled up between you and Larissa with a small smile on her deep red lips.

Miranda scoffed and turned to look at Anna, only to find that she was gone. One glance behind you revealed that she’d wandered over to Brienne, probably prompting her to go inside for dinner. You hummed, hiding the amusement of friendly banter. It had been so long since you felt even the smallest sense of normalcy. If they were so comfortable with each other, then it must have been a bit since they were all alone out in the world. You’d probably ask Larissa about that later - once everything was said and done.

“I would’ve beaten you in one,” Lucifer smirked as they pulled away and went walking inside. Had they been barefoot the entire time?

“That’s not even possible!” Miranda yelled, but the door was already shut. “...Is it?” She turned to Larissa, then to you, then back to Larissa.

“I don’t think so, Miranda,” Larissa smiled before looking at you. “Any chance you’re good at chess?”

Dear lord, having two sets of beautiful blue eyes on you was nerve-wracking, but you ignored the flush building up on your cheeks and nodded.

“Um yeah- it’s possible to beat someone in two moves. But it’s only black, I think.” You gave Miranda an apologetic smile and a shrug as she pouted.

“You will beat her next time Miranda,” Anna returned with Brienne in her wake. The sword she was sharpening earlier was still in her hands. “She cannot win forever.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Brienne cut in, her voice strong and deep. Her mouth was pulled into a light frown, and you noticed the scar that cut through the upper lip on the right. From the time before, you suspected. Otherwise she’d be turned. “She beat me and Phasma one after the other.”

Miranda sighed, tsking beneath her breath.

“Then there’s no hope…” Goodness, she looked like a sad puppy.

“Why not?” It slipped out of your mouth before you could grab it.

And of course, all of the attention then dragged itself over to you. Five sets of sea-blue eyes, all gorgeous in the glow of the evening lamps, traced lines over your tired body. In comparison to them, you looked a sight. Obviously having been picked up from the side of the road, unclean and awkward, somewhat detached from society. In your bag? Not enough clothing and not enough supplies. In your belt, peeking out from beneath your shirt? A knife, dirty and growing dull. And in your eyes? Lurking sadness and horror - the same which probably lived in the women that were observing you.

Larissa, thank goodness, finally broke the lull of silence.

“Brienne and Phasma were in the military,” she said gently.

“Oh. That makes sense.” And it did - Jane must have been an intellectual force if she beat people that used to be in the military before the world ended. Though that made you wonder… “What branch?” You turned to Brienne, not really surprised that you had to look up to meet her eyes. It seemed you’d been adopted into a camp of skyscrapers. Though the sharpness of her eyes had you swallowing. “I mean- if you don’t mind me asking.”

She seemed to consider it, sizing you up, before saying, rather shortly, “SAS. Then Delta Force.”

You couldn’t hide the way your eyes widened.

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed,” Larissa hummed. “But I think now would be a good time to head in, wouldn’t you say?” She spared her smile for everyone, meeting the gaze of each woman, before finally looking at you and raising her eyebrow.

It wasn’t really up to you, so you just shrugged and waited for Anna to say ‘Da, da, xорошо’ before heading in. Brienne followed after her, then Miranda, who was studying the back of the chess box, and Larissa, who started taking off her gloves. Jan, meanwhile, stayed where she was and kept her eyes on you. They were curious and deep, never-ending, and lined with mascara and eyeliner. Mascara and eyeliner that… well it suited her, but goodness it was certainly intense. Dark and shadowed, but beautiful nevertheless. You couldn’t look away.

“Jan Stevens,” she breathed and gave you her hand, elegant and admittedly quite charming. Her nails were painted a deep cherry red. Utterly flawless.

At the sight of it, you weren’t entirely sure what to do. Your palms were still dirty, and sort of calloused, and you didn’t want to… ruin her. So you hesitated, stared at it, looked back up at her, and found her kind smile to be unwavering.

“Go on,” Jan finally whispered, giving her hand a pointed look, and you fell prey in an instant.

Quickly, you shot out to gently cup her hand into your own, and gave it a gentle shake. You felt strangely compelled to bring it up to your lips, but you weren’t sure that meeting a stranger in an apocalypse really called for such formalities. Even though you yearned to feel her skin beneath your mouth. It wasn’t proper; though you did think that Jan’s expression fell just a little bit. Like she was excited. Like she wanted you to kiss her hand.

“Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she purred, looking you up and down, before turning toward the door. “Come quickly now. If we’re late, Jane will send us off to bed without dinner. And we wouldn’t want that.”

It probably would have been wise to consider and contemplate the fact that you were in a stranger’s camp, with a stranger’s group… but the saucy little wink that Jan threw over her shoulder sent a deep blush crawling up your cheeks. And just like that, without fail, you were one of the flesh-eaters… caught in the pretty paws of eight different beasts.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Please let me know if my characterization is okay and if you'd like to see more. Be safe, darlings. - Rip x

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Far too many names to tag. Find it as you come.

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

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writersblockiskillingme · 1 year

Note

so uhh here's a list cuz there's a bunch for Jann cuz yeah he's Jann

Mornings with him

traveling with him

movie night

date night

night time routine (like face masks on eachother)

Jann meeting reader at a gig, they see eachother at a store and Jann recognizes R and they get eachothers phonenumber and they start hanging out and eventually dating (maybe a lil smut or a lot)

Marvel!AU OR Game of Thrones!AU or even as a Sith in Star Wars!AU

After Date Night (could be part 2 to date night and this is SMUTTY AF)

maybe another song of his like you did with Gladiator

Jann with hippie!reader cuz I never see a damn hippie reader (but not like crazy and unhygienic hippies, yk what I mean)

unable to sleep and Jann helps (fluff, and/or smut or maybe even to versions)

CUDDLES

going with him to Eurovision (imagine he actually went), maybe him winning Eurovision and at the hotel after (maybe extreme fluff or very very very smutty)

Jann's instagram when R and him are dating

R being sick and Jann takes care

Jann being sick and R takes care

R gets hurt and Jann gets a little help crazy like wont let her do a lot without him near incase something happens due to R's injury

yeah I got a lot more that I need to write down so I don't forget TY

So This Is Love | Jan Rozmanowski/Jann

Pairing: Jan Rozmanowski/Jann x reader (singer!reader)

Summary: Jann noticed you randomly during one of his gigs. Eventually, you both realize that you will be competing in Eurovision as you start to date and experience the love you have for each other.

Warning/s: long author's note (I'm sorry, but I had to say it cause it's important), possible grammar and spelling mistakes, smut, but like kind of. Explicit, but at the same time not really, idk.

Author's note: Okay, so right now my inbox is literally being stuffed with requests for Jann after I made that one fic, but I'm loving it so much. For this fic I want to say sorry because I couldn't include all of the stuff from the big request, but I included almost everything. I also got another Damiano David request so I will be getting around to that one as well after this so yeah. There will be more Jann imagines and always feel free to request and I will try to get around to everything. Anyway, enjoy!

(F/F) = favorite fruit

(Y/C) = your country

You were truly having the time of your life. You were jumping around with a few friends, dancing, laughing, just having fun on a free Friday night. It was ironic really, you wanted to stay at home and binge watch your favorite shows and sleep, but thanks to your friends you were dragged out in a club where some guy you have never heard of was performing.

You really didn't want to go, considering the fact that you didn't know the singer nor didn't you know any of his songs, but now you were so glad that your friends dragged you out of your apartment to have fun for a while. Even tho you were kind of annoyed, you were so thankful to your friends for this moment.

Now, as you looked at the singer, you noticed something. He was so gorgeous, so handsome. He was simply breathing and it made you speechless for a while. His voice what slightly rough, but he was hitting higher notes and it made you shiver, but in a pleasant way. He was so tall. His hair was a dirty shade of blonde that was perfectly falling on his shoulders. His eyes were piercing black in the dark room. Every inch of his face was proving you that he was an angel sent from heaven. It was truly hypnotizing.

Jan Rozmanowski was in his zone. He was gripping on the microphone as he sang his soul out in front of the crowd. However, somewhere among the crowd, all of a sudden, he stopped his gaze and got quite for a second or two. Thankfully, however, nobody noticed that little moment. Everyone was either too drunk to catch that or they just didn't care about that.

Jan spotted a beautiful, no, gorgeous girl dancing and laughing in the crowd. He was so mesmerized by her beauty that he wanted to stop his performance right there, right at that moment, just so he could talk to her. To get to know her. He felt his breath get caught up in his throat as he watched her sway around the room, her hair flying around her as she danced carelessly. He just couldn't wait to get off of the stage to go and to talk to her. However, once he was done with his performance and one he went to get himself a drink from the bartender, he noticed that she was gone.

But, as luck would have it, it seemed that the whole universe didn't want that to me your last meeting. You couldn't even call it a meeting, really. That was considering the fact that you didn't even get the chance to talk even a little bit. Luckily, you accidentally bumped into each other at the grocery store just two days after his performance in the bar.

You were snooping around the fruit section looking for (F/F). You probably didn't really watch where you were going when you kind of bummed against a tall guy. You felt leather material pressing against you as you did. You started spitting apologizes at the person you bummed into and he was doing the same. However, you felt as if somebody stole all of the air away from your lungs once you saw who you bumped into. It looked like Jan wasn't experiencing something much different from what you were experiencing at the moment.

"Are you stalking me, gorgeous?" He asked you in a playful manner and you couldn't believe that he actually noticed you among the busy crowd.

"I don't know." You couldn't help but blush a little as you talked to the handsome singer in front of you. "Are you stalking me? You know, bumping into each other in a grocery store... it a bit cheesy don't you think?" You joked.

"Perhaps it is." He laughed. "But you know. I am nothing if not cheesy for a pretty girl."

And so you talked. In the middle of the store, you talked for a very long while. It seemed like hours have passed unnoticeable, but you never got bored, never ran out of things to say to each other. After a while, you exchanged numbers and you said your goodbyes. Just as you got in your car, you noticed that your phone light up. Jan wrote you a message.

"Just making sure I got the right number. - Jan" The message said. You didn't even notice how quickly you grabbed a hold of your phone and started to type back a response.

"Yes, you have the right number. - Y/N" You wrote and not even a second later you got another text.

"Great, it would be a shame if I couldn't hang out with a beautiful girl I met at the gig anymore."

You continued to text each other for days until Jan invited you to go and grab a cup of coffee with him. You were so excited about the invitation, you couldn't wait to see him. And so, after you practically jumped down the stairs of your apartment, you stepped onto the cold, chilly weather as you started to walk towards a familiar caffe place. You walked in and immediately noticed him. Jan stood up as you approached him and gave you a hug that was just about as friendly and innocent as it could be.

You got talking and as you did that, you found out that he was still very new to the music industry just like you were. However, you quickly realized that he had much talent and you just knew deep in your heart and soul that he is going to accomplish great things. You also discovered that both of you were supposed to compete in a Eurovision song contest. You were both so surprised, but nevertheless so happy to find out that interesting piece of information.

Time seemed to fly by as you talked about everything and nothing. In fact, it flew by so fast that you didn't even notice how the light outside suddenly disappeared. You also noticed that it started to rain.

So after you paid for your coffees, you ran out into the rain. He was staying in a hotel not so far away from your apparent, so he strongly suggested that he should walk you home and so you had no chance but to accept his offer.

You were running around the city, laughing like a pair of teenagers. It was fine though, you felt like it anyways. You were soaking wet by the time that you got to your apartment. You didn't really know what it was.

Perhaps it was the tiredness, or the silly crush you both had on each other or perhaps it was the coldness that covered your bodies compelling you to find any sorce of heat. You truly didn't know what it was, but at that moment you got closer as you leaned against the door of your apartment. Jan and you could feel the hot breath on each other faces, looking longingly in each other's eyes before Jan finally broke the ice and pressed his lips against yours. And so you let him do just that. You were enchanted and it felt better that anything you have ever experienced.

After the start of the Eurovision song contest it felt like things were getting crazier. Once Jan and you were 100% sure that you will be representing your countries in Eurovision, you started to practice randomly at each other's apartments just for fun. Jan was competing with his song Gladiator and you were complimenting with your song El Diablo (A/N: let's be clear, I don't have any rights for this song, it's just for the sake of fic plus that is one of my favorite Eurovision songs so here you go).

After a while you both had to start with the process of packing for the contest, so it was safe to say that you didn't see each other for about a week because of the busy schedule up until you had to meet in Liverpool in United Kingdom for the competition.

It was all an emotional roller-coaster, truly. The competition was full of nervousness and joy and love and just amazing energy. You made some new friends and your relationship with Jan seemed to get stronger.

The weeks seemed to fly buy and so before you know it, the day to announce the winner has finally arrived. Poland and (Y/C) was sitting right next to each other as you anxiously waited for them to announce the winner. You were currently at 4th place and Jan was on second. Before you knew it, it was announced that Poland was the winner!

Jan and you jumped on each other and started to celebrate. You were hugging for so long that you eventually had to push him away so he could perform and get his prize. You felt utter, pure joy as you watched him sing his song Gladiator. You started to sing and dance, too. At that moment, it was like everyone was happy.

After your winner came down he quickly brought you into another hug and gave you a kiss. You could hear people around you cheer even louder, but you didn't really pay that much attention to them. You felt something else as you kissed him. It was a bit more different than your usual kiss. It was more passionate. More needy. It was full of longing. After that you had to attend a little after party and you just couldn't wait to go away for a bit. Luckily for you, all that wait was worth your while.

The moment that Jan and you walked into his hotel room, you were all over each other. Not like that wasn't a case the entire night, but still. He was kissing you so passionately, it was all oh so greedy. It was perfect.

Both of you slowly started to undress as you moved painfully slow towards the bed. Once you got there he slowly started to kiss your neck. After a while he started to slowly trail his kisses down your body.

"Are you sure?" He stopped to ask you that just as he was about to reach the place where you needed him the most at the moment.

And so, with a needy nodd from you it all began. It was safe to say that you were celebrating his win all night long.

Your life with Jan after you met him and after Eurovision only seemed to get better and better. It was as if it couldn't be more perfect.

You were sleeping in the bed, completely exhausted from the last night's activities. You were rudely woken up by a bright dim of the Sun coming through the window. You steached out in the bed noticing that your hair was spread out all over your pillow. Your hand accidentally fell onto the spot where your boyfriend was supposed to be laying in, but he wasn't. You found the other side of the bed to be completely cold. You groaned softly as you sat up, the sheets slowly falling down your naked body. You grabbed the first shirt that you could find and so you put on Jan's shirt and found out that it was truly to big for you. However, you didn't really care as you started to make your way towards the kitchen.

There he was. Jan was standing in the middle of the kitchen, shirtless, making coffee. As he noticed your presence, he turned around to face you. His messy hair falling perfectly onto his shoulders as his gorgeous crystal that represented his eyes looked at you.

"What are you doing up, gorgeous?" He asked you, his voice still raspy from the sleep. "I wanted to bring you coffee and breakfast in bed."

Yes, everything was truly perfect.

#jan rozmanowski x reader #jann x reader #jan rozmanowski #jann #imagine #singer!reader #fiction #fic #smut #x reader #jan x reader #jan rozmanowski smut

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