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zepskies · 16 days

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Wake Me Up - Part 3

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: A few weeks after you and Ben celebrate your first Christmas together, Ben is returning from another mission with the Supe Affairs team. When he discovers that you’ve been taken, he’ll do whatever it takes to find you. And then, to help you heal.

AN: Get ready for some angsty, but fun attempts at memory jogging. 😅

Song Inspo: “I Can Read Your Mind” by the Doobie Brothers.

Word Count: 4.3K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for some...mature talk lol. Angst and hurt/comfort, fluff, PTSD, protective Ben, tinge of spice~

💚 Wake Me Up Masterlist || Break Me Down Masterlist

Part 3: “When You Hold Me”

Those first few days were the hardest ones.

Marie ran out of paid time off, which meant she had to go back to work. That left you alone with Ben during the day.

He was standing in the middle of the kitchen, arms crossed, and glaring at you after you’d just pushed away the bowl of bland instant oatmeal he’d “made” for you.

“We’re not gonna have this discussion again. You need to fucking eat,” he said. “I could feed you, though I promise you’re not gonna like it.”

His surly, frowning face was annoying you. His deep voice was annoying you. His tall, ridiculous wall-of-man body in your line of vision was annoying you, clothed in the rumpled shirt and sweatpants he’d slept in.

Everything about him annoyed you right now.

But that could also have something to do with the pounding ache in the back of your skull, radiating forward and between your eyes.

“Bro, I’m on like, three kinds of medication,” you replied in weary irritation. “With what appetite do you expect me to eat?”

Bro? His eyebrow twitched. He saw the pain and tiredness written across your face though, and the way you were sitting hunched at the breakfast bar, arms crossed on the counter. He softened a little.

“Look, I get it,” he started to say.

“No, you don’t,” you snapped. Your eyes closed as the pain sharpened. You lifted your hands to either side of your temples. “You don’t know what this feels like.”

You huffed and dropped your hands flat on the counter in frustration. Your eyes opened, and you looked down at the various healing scars littering your arms. You knew there were a few more across your neck and chest, and even your thighs. No matter how you stood, sat, or laid, it was painful to move your body. Even your face still hurt, with the fracture and bruises.

“You’re not the one who looks like Edward Scissorhands had a party,” you said, gesturing at yourself as you glared up at Ben. Emotion began to rise in your throat. “Or for a reference you’ll actually understand, how about this: I’m the Bride of goddamn Frankenstein. A fucking patchwork quilt.”

Ben hardened again, even with the deep pit forming in his stomach.

“That’s enough—”

“And despite what little you, or my mom, Grace, Annie, or even the doctors have told me, I can’t even remember who did this to me or what the hell happened,” you said. Hot tears welled up in your eyes. You wiped at them furiously and turned your face away.

“So no, the indestructible supe doesn’t understand. You literally can’t!” You pushed away from the counter and did your best not to lose your balance when a wave of vertigo hit you.

Ben started toward you, but you held up a hand against him.

“Just leave me the hell alone,” you muttered.

It wasn’t the first time you’d ever said that to him, but somehow, this one cut into him worse than the last.

Over the next several weeks, you did begin to heal from your injuries. Your doctor even noted that you were healing better than she expected. Bruises faded, wounds slowly became scars, some of their stitches removed, and with the right topical medication, a couple of them began to disappear.

The memories remained—at least for Ben. Finding you in that dark, disgusting place, breaking your chains, seeing how thoroughly that piece of shit had worked you over…

It still made him angry at times. He’d broken a couple of mugs, and one near-empty beer bottle. (You’d only caught him once, though he’d given you some bullshit excuse as to why.)

Your memory, on the other hand, still didn’t return.

And you weren’t an easy patient. That episode in the kitchen wasn’t the first, nor was it the last. Often the pain made you crabby and irritable, whenever your medication wore off. The head injury was also causing vast mood swings that Ben could barely keep up with.

It was all he could do to stop himself from snapping back at you at times (and sometimes he failed). He wasn’t exactly Mr. Rogers.

Marie was the only buffer. At least, when she was home. On more than one occasion, she’d had to try and diffuse the tension.

She was working during the day though, which of course, left you with Ben.

You were prone to headaches and dizziness, so he was careful with you, more than he’d ever been. You were starting to notice how he sometimes had to correct himself before he touched you, or forced himself to be deliberately slow when he helped you.

Your mom had also been doting on you, laying out your clothes, brushing your hair, trying her best to cook for the three of you in the evening. Apparently, she’d been taking lessons, though she still couldn’t cook for shit. Ben often suggested takeout, since he was also no “Betty fucking Crocker,” in his own words.

Still, it was a foreign feeling to be taken care of. It often left you unbalanced, even after your vertigo settled, or your headaches eased.

You considered it while you and Ben were channel surfing together from opposite ends of the couch in the living room. Your mom had just given you a blanket to cover your shoulders, before she went off to water your potted plants on the balcony for you. It was a Saturday, so she had the day off work.

You watched her go with a measure of disbelief.

“Look at Mother Theresa go,” you remarked. “You’d think they replaced my mom with one of the Stepford Wives.”

Ben snorted, because he actually knew the movie you were talking about. You’d forced him to watch it with you a few months ago, mostly to tease him.

“She’s never babied me this much in my life,” you said. “Not even when I was still old enough to be babied.”

Instead of commiserating with you, Ben just sighed, shaking his head a little. He glanced away from the History Channel on the screen to shoot you a glance.

“Maybe you should cut your mom some fucking slack,” he said. “She’s doing a hell of a lot for you. Even more than I am.”

You raised a brow at him. While you had a feeling that wasn’t so easy for him to admit, something about his words annoyed you.

“You clearly don’t know her like I do,” you said.

Your childhood had been no picnic. While you didn’t necessarily blame your mom (anymore) for staying with your father when you were a kid, you had never truly been a child. Your self-imposed job had been to protect your sister’s childhood, and sometimes, your mother too.

Ben gave you a more direct look.

“I know plenty,” he said.

And in his eyes, you saw that he did know something. Perhaps too much. You gathered the throw blanket closer around your body and sank further into your side of the couch.

The last thing you wanted to talk about was your messed up childhood, let alone your father. You couldn’t even remember his death, though Marie told you that you had been there. And so had Ben.

You snuck a look at him while his attention had returned to the TV. He’d settled on Ice Road Truckers. You weren’t impressed.

“Ugh. Can we watch something else?” you asked. “Something funny maybe, like How I Met Your Mother?”

Ben shot you a look. “Sounds like a chick show.”

“Not true! It has universal appeal,” you argued. Slowly you raised yourself from your corner of the couch, grimacing just a bit as it disturbed the delicate equilibrium of your still-fractured skull. It was healing, but that, of course, would take the most time. Your headaches would turn into migraines if you weren’t careful.

Ben knew that full well as he watched you move towards him across the couch. He couldn’t help but reach out a hand to steady you by your arm. You gifted him with a smile and grabbed onto him.

“Please?” you implored.

Ben tried to remain unaffected, but that smile of yours was endearing. Plus, it wasn’t often that you willingly reached out to him, touched him.

“I’ll do you one better,” he said, turning off the TV with the remote. You gave him a curious look. He turned to you with a smile.

“Let’s go for a ride.”

Of course this man would have a Benz, you thought. The car was black and sleek with beige interior, and it was both comfortable and decked out with all the modern bells and whistles.

You wondered if he knew what half of these buttons did as you gazed across the dashboard, but the path of your eyes continued until you settled on the man himself. Ben was casually dressed in a burgundy sweater and dark brown slacks, a silver Rolex on his wrist. He had one hand casually on the wheel and the other resting in his lap.

Part of you itched to take his hand, but you decided against it. You could admit, if only to yourself, that you were warming up to him.

Maybe you even liked him.

You knew you didn’t always make it easy, but he had been as patient and gentle as he could be with you, for a man who clearly wasn’t used to being either for anyone.

Despite his gruff exterior, however, you knew he had to care about you to put up with all this. It made you more willing to trust him…and even more curious about him.

“What’s my favorite color?” you asked.

Ben gave you a furrowed look. “What?”

You crossed your arms over your blouse.

“We’ve supposedly been together for a year,” you reasoned. “You should know what my favorite color is.”

He shook his head in disbelief.

“Come on,” you nudged his arm, trying to get him to smile. You succeeded, just a little.

“I don’t know…blue,” he guessed. Your mouth fell open in shock.

“How do you not know my favorite color’s red?” you said. “That’s the most basic thing ever.”

“What are you, five years old? Who fucking cares?” he said, rolling his eyes.

“I do!” you said. “Well, fine, Mr. Grump. When’s my birthday?”

With another shake of his head, he did correctly answer that question, at least.

“What’s my favorite food?” you asked.

“What’s with the goddamn quiz?” he retorted.

“I’m seeing how well you actually know me,” you countered. “Come on. Impress me.”

Ben slowed to a stop at a busy intersection. He’d been trying to jog your memory by passing certain landmarks he thought you might recognize, like the grocery store you two always shopped at, or the park where you liked to go for walks. So far, you seemed disinterested in the sights and more interested in grilling him.

Despite his longsuffering sigh, he had to wrack his brain in order to come up with something for you.

“The Beatles are your favorite band. Specifically the Abbey Road album,” he said.

That didn’t exactly answer your earlier question, but…he wasn’t wrong.

“Okay, you get a point there,” you said.

“And you fucking love Christmas,” he said, somehow with both annoyance and fondness. “Tacky as hell, with the…the ribbons, and the red flowers, and the jingle balls, and whatever the fuck else you can get your hands on. You love that shit. Because when you were a kid, that was the only time of the year your family got any peace.”

You were smiling at his description, but you sobered when he got to that last bit. Ben met your gaze.

“I know that you’ve had three boyfriends before me,” he said. Then, a smirk grew across his face. “But I’m the only one who’s made you come. Every time. Like a goddamn faucet.”

You gaped as your face grew red with a hot blush. “Excuse me—”

“You claim to like getting taken from behind the best. And you do. You’re all too happy to get bent in half for me. Hair pulling, ass-slapping, the whole sticky nine yards,” he continued, with an even fonder gleam of memory in his eyes. His hands caressed the leather wheel of his car, long fingers flexing.

“But you actually like it better when you can see my face, watch me work. I don’t blame you,” he added, smiling. “I mean, if there was an Oscar for laying it the fuck down, I would’ve taken that shit year after year. Would’ve beat out Bert Reynolds by a fucking landslide.”

You thought you were about to combust, whether from indignation, or straight up embarrassment, you didn’t know. (And you were going to ignore the little tremble of heat between your legs.)

But just as you were about to blow your top, figuratively speaking, Ben’s expression became more serious when his gaze returned to you.

“I know that you’ve had to take care of yourself. And that you’ve been alone all your life,” he said. Then a slight pause, before his attention went back to the road. “That’s something you and I have in common.”

The light turned green. Your anger and embarrassment settled, somewhat, into contemplation. You didn’t know what to make of this man.

He was infuriating, with all kinds of audacity. He was crass, and at times, he grated on your very last nerve.

But somehow, he knew you. He seemed to know the parts of you that you didn’t even want to know.

Sensing your angry gaze on the side of his face, he turned to you with a devil-may-care grin.

“You hungry?” he asked.

“Ben, I’m not dressed for this,” you said, leaning in close to whisper to him.

He’d taken you to a nice steakhouse for dinner, on the even more affluent side of town. You still couldn’t believe you’d moved out of New York City to Scarsdale, of all places.

Ben wrapped an arm around your waist and guided you closer, enough for you to feel his body heat.

“You’re just right,” he looked down on you with a teasing wink. It made you blush, despite yourself, with a small smile.

You went with him to a secluded booth in the back, by his request with the hostess. They seemed to know him, so maybe he was a regular. Or more likely, both of you were regulars. This place was only vaguely familiar, but when you saw the menu, you knew you were going to get the salmon.

Ben snorted when you said so.

“Yeah, that’s what you always get,” he said.

He smiled though—at the fact that this little outing was helping you make progress after all.

He didn’t need the menu either. He always ordered the dry-aged porterhouse steak. You couldn’t drink on the medication you were on, but he ordered a glass of bourbon for himself.

When the meal eventually came out, you glanced at his enormous plate with wide eyes. That had to be the biggest damn steak you’d ever seen, along with a huge loaded baked potato and a side of broccoli. You doubted the greens would do all that much for him, nutrition-wise.

“Whoa. Did they cut up a stegosaurus back there?” you quipped.

Ben chuckled. He’d actually missed your sense of humor, no matter how dumb it was sometimes. He unwrapped the steak knife they gave him from his napkin and started to carve a big piece.

You raised your brows, but shifted your attention to your fish and mashed potatoes. It was delicious. Like melt-in-your-mouth good, and you weren’t sure fish was supposed to be “melty.” No wonder you two liked coming here.

But then, your thoughts were entirely derailed.

Hearing the sound of his knife hitting the plate, carving into the meat—it struck a discordant note in your mind. You looked over, and the sharp, silvery gleam of it caused a vision to flash across your eyes…

Of a blade sliding against your skin, over and over. Along with questions. The same questions being asked of you, over and over.

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

“Tell me!” a man demanded. “Give me something.”

He grabbed your face, squeezed your neck until you choked on blood and spit.

“Hey!” a more familiar voice cut through it all. “Come on, sweetheart. Answer me.”

You blinked and caught yourself mid-gasp, staring into the deep green of Ben’s eyes.

Your head was resting on his shoulder, his hand pressed to the side of your cheek, which stung slightly, as if he’d had to try and wake you. His arm was wrapped around your waist in the booth.

He was gentle in sliding your hair away from your face, but his own was hard and almost angry, as his brows were knitted together. His gaze then traveled across the room, and you realized that there were other people in the restaurant now watching you and Ben. Even the servers stopped what they were doing at the sound of his shout.

He gave them all a pointed glare.

“What? Nothing to fucking see here,” he snapped. Most of them were wise enough to turn away, back to their meals and conversation. Ben focused on you as you caught your breath. You were finally able to support yourself, though you stayed leaning on his shoulder. He wasn’t about to let you go either, until he got some answers.

“What the hell happened?” he asked. You frowned at his gruff tone, until you met his eyes. Somehow, you could see that there was worry there.

You glanced down, and you closed your eyes when you saw it. You pressed your face into his arm to steady yourself.

“The uh…the knife,” you whispered. “It made me see something…remember something.”

“What did you remember?” he asked quickly. You sucked in a shuddering breath, squeezing your eyes shut tighter.

“Nothing good,” you whispered.

You felt him pause. You heard the shuffle of silverware, a thump on the table. Then his hand came up and cupped your cheek.

“It’s okay. I put it away,” he said.

Tears burned behind your eyelids, and you buried your face harder against his chest. At this point, it wasn’t just about seeing the knife. It was knowing that whatever had happened to you, it had truly been hell. Unlike anything you’d ever been through before.

“You want to go home?” came Ben’s voice, deep and steady in your ear.

You sniffed and nodded, as your tears seeped into the fabric of his sweater. He rubbed your back, holding you more securely.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Unfortunately, the episode at the restaurant led you to a migraine. Ben carried you to the master bedroom and laid you down, helped you undress down to your underwear, and gave you a shirt you liked to sleep in. He turned all the lights off and made sure the curtains were closed tight.

Marie brought you your pain medication with a glass of water. Ben hoped there was enough in your stomach that the pills wouldn’t make you nauseous as well, like they occasionally did.

After you took the meds, you curled up on the bed and closed your eyes tightly, trying not to whimper like a child. You’d dealt with pain before; that was nothing new. But this was getting ridiculous.

Ben gave Marie a certain look. “I’ve got it from here.”

She gazed at you with sympathetic tears in her eyes, but she nodded and touched his arm.

“If you need anything, just call for me,” she whispered.

Ben nodded, but he closed the door behind her and began by taking off his watch, then his shoes, pants, and sweater. He changed into a pair of sweatpants and a loose shirt.

You were too busy hugging your pillow and pressing your face into it. You didn’t realize he was still with you until the bed dipped behind you.

Ben turned you around and gathered you into his arms. You inhaled sharply, but then you clung to him. His chest and middle were warm, a bit unnaturally so.

“You’re hot,” you muttered, splaying a hand against his chest. “Like a radiator.”

Ben quirked a smile. “Yeah, you tend to complain about that.”

You shook your head and pressed yourself closer to him. “Not today.”

He wiped the tears from your cheek and laid a kiss on your forehead. He held you that way for a while, just silence and the sound of your breathing covering the room. Eventually, the pain medication began to kick in, helping to ease your pounding skull.

You pulled back enough to see Ben’s face. He was still awake, but he opened his eyes and met yours in the dim light. You reached up and touched his bearded cheek, hesitantly.

“Why can’t I remember?” you asked, in a broken voice.

Ben’s brows furrowed. He curled his hand around yours and let out a breath.

“I don’t know,” he said, but all he wanted was for this to be over.

“I could take this from you,” he said. “What’s the big fucking deal about a blood transfusion?”

Your fingers stilled against his cheek. Your tearful eyes averted from his, but you weren’t as opposed to the idea as you were before.

“The last time, it healed me?” you asked.

“Within the hour,” he said. His hand tightened a fraction on yours. “It’ll be like it never happened. And your memories could even come back.”

You sighed, briefly closing your eyes. Your hand fell from his cheek, but you nodded.

“Okay. I’ll think about it,” you said.

Ben’s frown remained, but at least it was a step in the right direction. He took your chin and slowly tilted your face up to his. You stared up at him with shining eyes. He didn’t like the pain he still saw there, but he did like the way you glanced down at his lips.

He took a chance, and he leaned down to meet you with a kiss. What first was a gentle touch, soon became heady as your hand slid up his arm and into his hair. He brought you flush against him and deepened the kiss, when his tongue swept past your lips and brushed against yours. You welcomed him in with a surprised moan.

He hadn’t tasted you in so damn long, it was like indulging a craving he’d been denying himself. It was even harder to slow down and ease away from your lips.

You rested your forehead against his chest afterward.

“Wow,” you breathed. “Okay.”

Ben chuckled. But unlike the movies, a kiss didn’t break the spell. You were his, but not completely.

He wanted nothing more than to show you how much you could be…but your body was still weak. He would have to continue protecting you, even from himself.

“I want to stay here tonight,” he said.

Despite his earlier thoughts, he didn’t think he could take one more night of not being with you in this bed. He could control himself. He just wanted to make sure you were all right, and safe with him.

It took you a moment to decide, but you nodded.

“You can stay,” you agreed, with a more teasing smile. “I don’t think your old man back can handle the couch anymore.”

He snorted in amusement. There was some more of your sense of humor peeking through.

Meanwhile, you still weren’t totally convinced that him sleeping in the bed with you was a good idea. A good part of you craved his nearness, and how he made you feel safe…but you also weren’t sure if you were ready to continue being so vulnerable with him.

Just when you were about to put some distance here between you and tell him to stay on his side, Ben rolled you back around so that your back was pressed to his chest. He slid a warm, strong arm around your waist. His lips pressed to your bare shoulder. The sleep shirt you wore (one of his old shirts) had ridden down your arm.

“Just relax,” he said. “I’ve got you.”

And you actually believed it.

You felt comfortable and secure in his embrace. Soon enough, you relaxed into him.

Sleep wasn’t easy, but you got there in time. It even lasted for a while.

Just not long enough.

In your dreams, there were flashes of things that didn’t make sense. They were jumbled together like white noise on a TV, occasionally screeching with color, and mostly red with blood.

You woke up shaking and sweating.

Ben was a light sleeper at best. He was startled awake in confusion, disturbed by how you had been tossing and turning and making sounds of distress. He turned toward you and moved his arm to make room for you, but he decided he would let you come to him this time.

You didn’t disappoint him. You reached for him and buried your face in the crook of his neck for a while, trying to ground yourself in him. He held you and rubbed your back until you calmed down.

When you pulled away slightly, and spoke his name in the dark, Ben looked into your eyes. For a moment, he could’ve sworn you were there. The real you.

“Thanks for staying with me,” you whispered.

Ben was disappointed. This wasn’t you remembering. But at least, this was you being you, thanking a man like him.

He just nodded and guided you back into his arms. You let him hold you for the rest of the night.

AN: So close, but yet so far. 🥲

But just wait for the last part...

Next Time:

You brushed your fingers over that picture in wonder. You didn’t remember that day, even though you were sure you must have been there…

It was so odd to see so much of your life in pictures, yet it was all still so fuzzy, or entirely blank in your mind.

You paused, blushing once again when you saw the picture of you getting out of the shower with the towel barely wrapped around your body. Why the hell would this be in a photo album?

You quickly moved on. Though you stopped next at a picture of you and Ben in what looked like a dark nightclub. The way he was holding you, looking at you like he was ready to devour you, and the way you were looking up at him, with a smile that said he’d better damn well try…

It made a sharp pain lance behind your eyes.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 4 (Finale!)

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Break Me Down Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD/Series Tag List (Part 1):

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26

@spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@mrsjenniferwinchester @lyarr24 @xoxovienna @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28

@nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022

@emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @theonlymaninthesky

@kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun

@lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420

@tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67 @deansbbyx

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ladyymiisa · 2 months

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ENTRANCED

summary: you’re japan’s most famous singer and hawks is your biggest fan

tags: hawks x f!reader, singer!reader, fanboy!hawks, feminine pronouns used for reader, fluff, hawks is such a loser i love him

author’s note: umm mha brainrot has been going crazy ever since the new season trailer dropped,, i might make a part two for this since im literally such a sucker for the popstar trope,, also this is such an indulgent fic for me i am so sorry chat

thinking about hawks.

hawks, who besides being japan’s number two hero, is also a man entitled to have his own passions and interests to indulge in, despite his incredibly busy line of work. and one of those interests is you.

radiant, talented, spectacular you, who japan had classified as its top favourite singer. rising to the tops in a short matter of time despite being a young adult, you’ve managed to make a name for yourself through your hard work. you had a certain image about you that lured people in, that made them want to see more of you.

you were absolutely gorgeous, with bright eyes that shone with excitement whenever you got on the stage, a smile that held nothing but affection for your fans as you talked to them during your meet-and-greets, and an aura so powerful that it made them want to have their eyes on you at all times. everyone was enamoured by you, and slowly but surely, hawks found himself caught in your love-net as well.

during one of his patrols (which was surprisingly peaceful considering the amount of people that usually stopped to either take a picture with him or ask for his autograph), he couldn’t help the whistle that fell from his lips upon seeing your image showcased on a luxurious shop’s glass window.

you had just recently done a collaboration with the brand, proudly showing off their clothes and accessories on your instagram stories—which he all hearted, by the way—and boy was he glad you did. the clothing embraced your body perfectly, hugging your curves and enhancing your attractiveness, as if you were made to wear them. you looked breathtaking, and hawks couldn’t find the strength to pry himself away from the glass window.

and don’t get me wrong, your appearance isn’t the only thing that lured him in. your voice won him over the second he decided to watch one of your music videos. the public wasn’t lying, your singing was mesmerising! despite how the music genre wasn’t particularly his favourite, the hero found himself going through all of your albums, singles and even listening to the songs you were featured on. after about three hours of continuous listening, hawks already had a playlist made with all of his favourite songs.

his favourite album is your first one. it really embraces your authenticity with its heartfelt lyrics and story behind it, about some of the hardest moments in your life. he remembers you saying in one interview that said album was the closest to your heart since it was the one that made you reach the tops, and also because it was the first album you wrote on your own. it was raw and sincere, much like the ones that came after, but it was clear that none could compare to the very first.

all in all, you could say that hawks is your biggest fan.

his apartment has a special corner in which he keeps all of your merch. from posters, vinyls, shirts and even exclusive plushies, this man has everything. sometimes he feels cringe for being such a diehard fanboy, but hey, he deserves to have the luxury of indulging in something as normal as having a small very big celebrity crush.

also, he definitely follows multiple stan accounts dedicated to you. pictures taken at any of your concerts? he has them saved. a very cool edit on tiktok of you while you’re performing? he’s hitting the like and favourite buttons immediately. like, this man spends countless hours looking at pictures of you on pinterest while he’s giggling and kicking his feet like a lovesick middle school girl.

and it’s no secret that hawks is your fan. almost everyone at his agency knows, especially since he makes no effort to hide it. not from his agency, and not from the media either. one time during a public interview, one reporter asked him if he had any favourite singers, in hopes of gathering more personal information about the hero, and hawks didn’t hesitate for a second before responding with, “y/n, of course! she’s incredibly talented and i love her music. i think i know all of her songs by heart, haha!” to which the media went wild.

of course, being the devious little shit that he is, hawks intentionally made the information public with the intention of gaining your attention. and to his delight, it did. not even a day after the interview was posted online, he woke up with two notifications from his instagram. the poor hero almost dropped his phone from ten feet up high in the air after reading the name of the account who messaged him.

y/nofficial

hey :)

heard you like my music, how about a free vip ticket to come meet me backstage after my next concert? <3

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runningfrom2am · 3 months

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cold nights // part twenty-six

summary: you were back in the capitol, and you would be damned if you didn't try your hardest to make it worthwhile.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 7.3k (WOAH)

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, depictions of mental illness, also she's is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: sorry i made you guys wait so long for this omg!! i have been booked and busy this week but we are so back :)

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

It's your first day of university, and you don't know if you're more excited or terrified.

It was the beginning of the rest of your life, which is thrilling considering just two months ago you thought you had days left to live. At the same time, though, you knew no one here besides Coryo and Sej, and you didn't share a single class with either of them.

But, staying positive was a must. It would only be a few hours away from them, and you had planned to meet up for lunch with Coryo between your classes, since he had found some for you that started and ended at the same time as his. While you drape your scarf over your shoulders and tuck both ends around the belt at your waist, you smile to yourself. You take a last look in the mirror, to double-confirm that you like the look of the scarf worn that way over your white dress and when you're satisfied you grab your bag and leave your room. Of course, Tybalt is right on your heels.

Walking down the hall, you can hear their grandmother singing the national anthem in the other room, as she always does. You've never loved the anthem or what it stood for, but starting your morning hearing singing is nice nonetheless. Even if the woman who started her mornings with song had decided just to completely pretend you didn't exist, ignoring you at every turn. "Good morning!" You smile as you enter the dining room, Tigris and Coryo already sitting to eat.

"Morning." They both smile at you at the same time as you drop your bag down, sitting next to Coryo. "Are you excited?" Tigris asks as you reach for some apple slices. There are more fancy pastries spread out on the tray as well, but you'd much rather stick to fruit in the morning.

"I am." You grin, biting the slice in half. "A little nervous, though. I must admit."

"You don't need to be nervous." Coryo tells you, and his smile does relax you. But you know he doesn't understand. "I'll walk you to your classes, and I'll see you during our break. It'll be easy and you'll adjust very quickly."

"Aren't you nervous?" You ask, picking up your cup of tea and taking a sip. "It's your first day too."

"Not really." He shrugs, reaching up to mess with his hair. It had only been a few weeks since he cut it, but it was growing back rather quickly. "More excited."

"Oh, well, I'm excited for you too." You hum, taking another bite of your apple and smiling as he pats your leg under the table.

Pulling up to the campus after Coryo insisted that their driver take the two of you, you notice immediately that there were tons more people. Most were people around your age, which you expected. You wonder how many of them are Coryo's other friends, it would be nice to make more friends here. Just like the games. You find yourself thinking. "Safety in numbers", is what Coryo had told you. You needed allies here.

"There's a lot of people." You comment as the car comes to a stop, and Coryo gently squeezes you with the arm he has over your shoulder in the backseat, still shielded by the tinted windows.

"Yes, just stay close to me." He tells you, kissing your cheek. You nod and push the door open, thanking the driver quickly as you climb out with Coryo on your heels.

It's obvious to him almost immediately that you don't fit in. While there isn't a uniform like there was in the academy, he was still wearing dress pants and a button-up shirt- which seemed to be on par with the level of dress all the other students were donning. Mentally, he curses himself for not thinking of that. It didn't even cross his mind- all that did was that you looked beautiful. More done up than he'd ever seen you, and you don't look insecure about it, at least not immediately. Outside of what he can discern of just average nervousness as you seem to shrink in on yourself while you look out over as much of the campus as you can see.

"So, your class starts in twenty-five minutes. Usually, it's a good idea to get there early, that's what I've heard anyway." He tells you as he starts walking down the path toward the doors, and you follow quickly after him.

"How long does it take to get there?" You ask as you catch up, holding onto your bag over your shoulder.

"You tell me." He smirks, jutting out his elbow to gently nudge you. "I have you the tour, where are we going?"

"Oh." You laugh, looking around. "It looks a lot different now. Probably... ten minutes to get to the arts building?"

"About that, yeah." He nods. "In no time you won't need me anymore."

As you approach the entrance to the main building, it doesn't go unnoticed by him that you're being stared at. No doubt every other student here recognizes you, it would be jarring to see a tribute walking among them at school. Let alone be in a class with them. He wonders if they'd feel unsafe with you- he knows he would have without knowing you.

Not necessarily unsafe, considering even watching the games anyone could tell you wouldn't hurt a fly, but... uneasy, is a more accurate descriptor. It even begins to pool in his own stomach, growing more as you link your arm with his. They weren't just staring at you. They were staring at him, too.

"I'll always need you, I'm sure." You giggle, squeezing his arm.

He can practically hear all of their whispers now.

'Is that Coriolanus Snow? That District girl is all over him.'

'She's probably going to give him rabies or some other gross District plague. I won't be surprised if he starts a Monkey Pox outbreak.'

'I heard him and Sejanus Plinth went to District Twelve just for her. They probably came back half animal- no wonder he sees nothing wrong with this.'

Suddenly, he does. Your hold on him, while friendly, feels so sickeningly isolating. He pulls his arm from yours with the excuse of rolling up the sleeves of his shirt while he speaks to you. "Well, we may not always have aligning classes."

"That's true, I suppose." You agree. "An awful shame though, I'll miss being able to have lunch together."

He just hums in agreement, picking up his pace as you move through the halls and out the back exit to be able to access the art building.

"This is you." Coryo says as he stops outside the door to a lecture hall, looking inside briefly before turning his attention to you. There were a few students already inside, reading or organizing their notebooks.

"Oh, thank you." You smile at him. He didn't have much to say on the walk to your class, but you sum that up to him being in a hurry to get to his own. The art building was certainly out of his way, if you remember where all his classes were supposed to be.

"You're welcome." He says, making an effort to match your smile. He could only really focus on the stares you were getting from people walking past, making wide circles around you. You don't seem to notice as you look up at him. "I'll come back to get you after class, so just wait for me, okay?"

"I'll wait right here." You nod, wrapping your arms around him and leaning your head against his chest. "I'll miss you, though."

You feel him tense up under you, and he awkwardly pats your back. You don't clue in until you hear gasps and whispering. You quickly take a step back, cheeks red.

Coryo chuckles nervously. "It's alright, uh..." He leans down to whisper to you. "They're just strict about that kind of stuff here. Don't worry about it."

"Oh, I'm sorry..." You reply, looking around and smiling apologetically at the few people still staring as they walk past.

"I should have told you, that's my fault." He admits, standing up straight before leaning down to talk to you again. "Good luck in your class. I love you, and I'll see you for lunch." He whispers and is satisfied when that brings your normal smile back.

"I love you too." You whisper back, and he grins, giving you a quick nod. "See you later."

You wave as he walks away, and you take a deep breath before walking into the lecture hall.

Now, you're presented with your second big problem of the day. Figuring out where to sit.

You scan the room quickly, deciding the easiest would be the front or second row. There were a few students already sitting down there, and one girl who was sitting alone. She had blonde hair, and red lipstick that you think would match Coryo's coat that he sometimes wears quite nicely. She looked nice.

You smile as you make your way over to the front row, sliding into the seat next to her. "Hi! My name is Y/N, what's-" You whisper, wanting to stay quiet in the already silent room and before you even finish your question she's shoving things in her bag and getting up. "Oh." You frown, looking around as she quickly moves to a different seat. The shuffle caused everyone who wasn't already looking to stare at you, so you just quickly turned to face the front.

You didn't mean to scare her off, you just thought she might want a friend if she was sitting alone, and you definitely wanted one. She didn't even look at you for more than a second.

You quietly pull the notebook Coryo had given you out of your bag, placing it on the table in front of you and looking up at the clock. There were still fifteen or so minutes until your class would start, so surely by then, someone would sit next to you.

Unfortunately, that didn't happen. By the time the man you assumed was your professor entered, every other seat was taken besides the ones next to you. And behind you. There was this glaringly uncomfortable circle of emptiness surrounding you right at the front of the room. It was mildly embarrassing, but at least you didn't have to see everyone staring at you since almost everyone was behind you. But you still had the afternoon class, and the rest of the year to let people warm up to you. It would be okay.

"Okay, I hope everyone is here." Your gaze follows your professor as he shuts and locks the door. "If you're late, that's too bad. I expect everyone to be on time. This door will be locked at nine on the dot. For anyone who doesn't know me, my name is Dr. Nero."

You sit up straighter in your seat. He looks young, probably only ten or so years your senior with well-trimmed but present facial hair and a semi-casual suit. He must be relatively new to the position, and clearly, he took it very seriously.

"Alright, the department wants us to do icebreakers, so we'll get it over quickly. When I call your name on the attendance, tell us something about yourself and what your career goal is."

Shoot. You definitely didn't have any solid plans yet.

As he goes through the list, you wrack your brain for an answer. What did you want to do? Nothing specific. Maybe you'd write a book, maybe open a daycare back home where parents could leave their young ones with you by donation while they went to work. Maybe you'd be back at the library, but you really wanted to do something good with your education. You make a mental note to ask Coryo during lunch what kind of career you can have with a literature degree.

You look around, trying to remember as many names as you can as the other students answer.

"Teacher", "Artist", "Museum Curator", "Gamemaker".

Your eyes are still locked on the student who said that, a boy with dark hair and brown eyes. His name was Cancor Crane, if you remember what the professor had just called out correctly, and he was staring back at you. He was staring at you with such a vile expression that it looked like he wanted to gut you. A chill goes down your spine.

Then your name is called. You turn quickly, smiling nervously. "Hi..." You say, clearing your throat of the dryness that overtook it. "So, my name is Y/N... something about myself is that I have a cat, his name is Tybalt. Um, because my favourite book is Romeo and Juliet." You look around, then quickly back to your desk. "And I am not sure about my career, in all honesty. Not knowing when the dawn will come I open every door." You shrug, smiling hopefully at him.

"Interesting." Your professor says, tilting his head at you and leaning back against his desk. "I expected your fact to be that you're a Victor."

"I- well, yes. I am." You reply nervously, twisting your pencil in between your fingers.

He hums. "Congratulations."

Congratulations on being the only one to walk away with your life.

"Thank you." You settle on, voice hardly more than a whisper.

"I've never taught a Victor before. This should be an interesting class for all of us."

You took as many notes as you could through the syllabus overview and first lecture. You were pretty pleased with yourself, everything looked organized and you felt prepared for the rest of the course- besides the textbooks that you needed to pick up. Another thing to ask Coryo about.

You don't see him at the door yet, after all, he had to walk all the way back from his class to yours and if he was let out at the same time he should be here in about ten minutes.

"Miss Y/L/N, do you mind staying for a moment?" Dr. Nero asks as the lecture hall steadily clears out. "I'd like to chat with you."

You quickly gather your things, making your way over to his desk at the front centre of the large room.

"Dr. Nero." You smile, bag tucked under your arm. "I really enjoyed today's class. I'm looking forward to the rest of the semester."

A grin tugs at the corner of his lips. "Thank you."

He doesn't say anything else, and you're left wondering what he wanted you to stay for. "I just need to get my textbooks, but I have the list that you gave us so I'll see if I can grab them this afternoon. I'll have them for Wednesday." You say, just wanting to fill the silence.

"Good." He nods, leaning back against his desk and tucking his hands into his pockets. "I watched your games. When they told me that you enrolled in my class, I was immediately intrigued."

"Oh." What are you supposed to say to that? He watched you at your literal worst, that doesn't make you feel very comfortable at all.

"In a good way, I assure you." He says, sensing your nerves. "I feel as though you know more about English literature than anyone in this city. Maybe even more than me."

"I wouldn't say that..." You chuckle nervously. "I just like reading."

"Yes. With an unprecedented level of comprehension for a District-born child."

You want to scowl and argue with him about how the opinions of the Capitol citizens are based on nothing but their own superiority complex fuelled by their win in one war that cost the lives of many, but instead, you just smile and nod. "Thank you, Sir."

"Although, tributes are not given much of a chance to prove that they are more than animals when they are treated as such from the moment they arrive until the moment they die, wouldn't you agree?"

You tilt your head at him. His motivations and opinions are suddenly unclear and confusing to you. "Yes... I-I would."

"Well, I hope to learn more about your experience while we get to know each other." He tells you. "Thank you for coming."

"Yes, thank you." You say quietly, looking toward the door. "I'll see you on Wednesday."

"Yes, good luck in the rest of your classes." He nods to you, and you take that as your dismissal and head to the door. You would just have to wait for Coryo in the hall.

You wouldn't have to wait long, considering he was already there, right where he had left you earlier.

"Hi!" You smile, waving at him but being mindful of keeping your distance.

"Hello." He grins, already starting down the hall as you join his side.

"How was your class?" You ask excitedly.

"Good." He shrugs. "What about yours? That's what I'm more concerned about."

"It was good!" You smile. "I mean, I tried to talk to people but everyone was pretty quiet. And the Professor was nice. I think. He seemed fascinated by the fact that I'm a 'Victor'." You accentuate your point with finger quotations, bouncing between looking up at him beside you and ahead of you to make sure you don't walk into anyone. They seem to be keeping their distance, though.

"Of course he is." Coryo scoffs, shaking his head. "But that's what we want. He may favour you, so go along with it."

"Oh, okay."

Tigris was nice enough to pack you both lunch for the day, yours consisting mainly of fruit. Something you have noticed over the last couple of weeks you've been here is that some of the food scares you- which is something you never thought of. If you can't somewhat accurately identify what it is just by looking at it, you're tempted to steer clear. Coryo insists you'll "get used to it", something he tells you daily about a wide variety of things, but Tigris doesn't mind packing you fruit for lunch or meals you don't help prepare yourself, which you appreciate.

Even for a September day, the sun is beaming down on the courtyard so you decided to eat outside. After all, Coryo says the weather won't be this nice all winter. You rarely got snow in Twelve, so you were excited for the holidays. Secretly, you hoped you could go home for Christmas.

"It's a beautiful day today." You comment, taking a bite of the fresh strawberry you pulled from your lunch container. The strawberries here were something that shocked you as well- they were bigger than the homegrown ones back home. Not nearly as sweet, though.

"It is." Coryo nods, leaning back on his palms in the grass. "Do you like it here so far?" He asks, squinting from the sun as he looks over at you.

"I mean, I've only had one class as you know, but so far it's great." You grin. "I'm excited to actually dive into the readings and such."

"I mean, like, in general." He chuckles. "Also, I have never heard anyone ever say they were excited about homework."

"A precious, mouldering pleasure it is, to meet an antique book, In just the dress his century wore; A privilege I think." You shrug, smiling at him as you place the rest of the strawberry on your tongue.

Coryo scrunches up his nose in disgust while you chew. "You eat the leaves?"

Quickly, you're covering your mouth with your hand to speak. "You don't?" You ask, voice slightly muffled with the slightly sour fruit on your tongue.

"No!" He laughs, shaking his head.

You swallow what remains of the strawberry in your mouth, preparing to defend yourself when you hear someone call his name. You both turn, and your eyes land on a girl with long, dark hair as she walks toward you. With the shoes she's wearing, she only slightly struggles on the grass.

"Clemmie." He smiles, quickly standing up. You follow suit, brushing the stray blades of grass off of your legs and dress while he gives her a hug. A hug? That must be allowed outdoors. "I didn't expect to see you today."

"Yeah, well, they let me out of my cage for the occasion." She replies sarcastically. She must be hot, wearing a white turtle neck in this heat. Then she looks at you, lifting up her dark sunglasses and resting them in her hair.

She has the eyes of a snake.

You're in shock for a moment, but you quickly recover. "Hello, my name is Y/N. Are you a friend of Coryo's?" You ask, extending your hand to shake. You were just happy to possibly be making friends.

She doesn't take it, something you're used to by now. "Yes, we've known each other our whole lives." She answers, looking down at your hand as you slowly lower it back to your side.

"Y/N, this is Clemensia Dovecote." Coryo says, deciding to introduce you properly, since his classmate didn't want to oblige. "She was a mentor as well."

"Oh, congratulations." You grin, biting back the sickness you felt suddenly bubbling in your stomach. "From what I have heard, even being selected for the opportunity is a large accomplishment. You must be proud."

"Yeah, well, I'd certainly be happier if my tribute won." She shrugs.

"Clemmie-" Coryo hisses at her, and she looks momentarily horrified at her own statement.

You look down, nodding slightly with a nervous smile. "It's okay." You insist, laughing slightly and pretending to readjust your scarf and tighten it around the belt.

"I didn't... Not like that. I'm sorry." She apologizes quickly after Coryo had jumped to your defense.

"No, it's alright. I understand." You tell her again, attempting a reassuring smile. "Would... would you like to eat lunch with us?"

"I have to get going, actually." Clemensia replies, looking between the two of you. "I was just on my way to my next class and thought I'd stop to say hi. It was nice to meet you, Y/N."

"You too." You grin, and she nods at you before walking away.

Your eyes stay trained on her as she crosses the courtyard, and Coryo is once again close enough to speak to you quietly so no one else would hear. "I'm so sorry, she didn't mean it like that."

"No, I know." You insist again, already sitting back down. "It's okay." You smile up at him, patting the patch of grass next to you so he would join you.

"She was supposed to be Reaper's mentor." He tells you as he rejoins you on the ground. "But... something happened before the games. She couldn't participate."

"Oh."

He moves closer. "Do you remember that day we went to tour the arena?" He asks and you nod. "And I was late, and you asked me what was wrong, and I told you nothing?"

You do remember that, and you never got answers, but you remember being worried it was your fault. You almost kissed him the night before, and you had made things weird when he just came to do something nice for you; bringing you a book and some birthday cake. You felt horrible. "Yes, I thought I had done something."

"You? No." He quickly shakes his head. "We had to write a proposal for Dr. Gaul, the head gamemaker, about things that could be done to "improve" the games. Like the bets, donations, sending food, and when we were speaking with her Clemmie got bit by one of the snakes."

You gasp, covering your mouth. He looks around, making sure no one is paying attention. Yes, people were staring, but no one would get close enough to be able to overhear.

"I thought she was dead, but they sent me straight to the arena to meet you." He explains. "And like she said, we've been friends forever so I was... quite upset."

"That's horrible." You frown, resisting the urge to reach for his hand as it sits on his lap next to you.

"Yeah." He agrees quietly. "But I saw her in the hospital after the bombing, she was alive but... different. Crazy."

"Her eyes?" You ask and he nods.

"And she was hallucinating, they wouldn't let anyone see her except me because I was there. She was angry with me because I didn't visit her enough."

"Survivors guilt." You smile sympathetically. It was a feeling you knew all too well.

"That's why she's wearing that shirt." He whispers, nodding to her just as she enters the building ahead of you. "She's got scales."

You cringe at the mere idea of it.

"I know." He laughs slightly. He doesn't look away from his hands in his lap, and while you can see he's smiling and laughing, it's doing little to convince you that he isn't upset. "It was kind of my fault, though."

There it is.

"No, most certainly not." You frown. You just want to hold his hand, surely you won't be caught if you do. You were outside, just for a moment isn't likely to get you in trouble. Especially if he was just hugging Clemensia. "Why do you say that?" You ask, settling instead for resting a hand on his arm.

"I... It's difficult to explain." He tells you, and you say nothing, willing him to continue. "So, our proposal was in the tank. Dr. Gaul told us if the snakes knew your scent, they wouldn't bite. But I wrote the paper, not her, and she made Clemmie reach into their tank and pull it out."

"That's not your fault." You tell him, gently squeezing his forearm.

"I should have stopped her. She would have hated me for telling them she didn't help write it, but none of that would have happened."

"Well, she's okay, isn't she?" You smile hopefully.

"Yes, but she just as easily could have died." He insists. "The only thing that makes me feel slightly better about it is that in a way, she saved you."

You cock your head at him, mouth falling open in astonishment. "I... what?"

He looks up from his lap to check your surroundings again.

"I put the letter you wrote to me into the tank." He whispers, and you have to lean in to hear it. "Because I knew if they knew your scent they wouldn't hurt you."

"You... never told me that." You state the obvious, retreating your hand back into your own lap. Part of you wishes he hadn't done that. They didn't quite catch you getting up into the rafters, his warning had been enough, but you should have walked to your death the following morning when you climbed down and found the note in the first place.

"I just... I don't know, I thought it would be worth more if it stayed a secret. I didn't want you to feel... indebted to me, or something." He admits. "But I'm still trying that thing where I tell you everything I'm thinking. Especially about this stuff."

You nod, putting your focus on picking pieces of grass at your side. "Thank you."

"Please don't thank me." He frowns. "I told you. I had to. I knew I loved you even then, Y/N/N."

You give your head a quick shake, already sensing the spiral it was about to fall down. "Let's not speak about this here." You mumble. "Please."

Immediately, Coryo understands. "Of course." He watches you run your fingers through the grass slowly, and realizes quickly that you are counting them. Now was not the time or place for another attack, and he felt foolish for even bringing the topic of the games up. "What books do you need?" He asks, hoping to get you in better spirits. "Anything that looks good? You said you were excited for the readings."

Your lunch doesn't feel like it lasts long enough, even though you had an hour and a half between your classes. Once you got to talking about your books, the time seemed to fly by and Coryo agreed to take you to the bookstore on campus the following afternoon so you could get all your books at once. He had a few to get as well.

He walked you to your next class, a few floors up in the same building and this time you were mindful to not hug him goodbye. He told you he loved you, very quietly, and you said you loved him too before entering the room. Another lecture hall, slightly smaller than the last one.

You mentally prepare yourself to play this game again. Where to sit, and preferably, finding someone willing to sit next to you. Looking around, you see a couple of girls in the middle of the room chatting away. They looked nice enough.

Preparing your smile as you walk up, you slide into the seat next to them. "Hi there, my name is Y/N." You grin, keeping your voice low. You really didn't want to scare them off. "Can I sit here?"

They look at each other with an expression unreadable to you, before one of them nods. "Yeah, we can't see why not."

"Oh, thank you!" You say excitedly, pulling your bag up onto the desk to grab your other notebook out of it.

"You're the Victor." The other girl comments, and you realize they're both staring at you still.

You suck in a sharp breath through your teeth, nodding. "Mhm."

"So... why are you here?" The girl closest to you with a brunette ponytail asks.

"Oh, well, Coriolanus, he was my mentor, he came to visit me back home and convinced me to come study here." You explain. "I want to have a career. Help my family."

"Oh, we know him." She says, and they look at each other again, chests shaking with laughter they're attempting to conceal.

"You do?" You smile. You knew starting with his friends was a good idea, this is just a happy coincidence that you had decided to sit next to two of them already.

"Yeah, we went to the academy with him." The girl's friend explains. You notice then that they have a very similar hair colour, but hers is cut short and curled just above her shoulders. "He always had such a stick up his ass. Took everything way too seriously."

"That's what my brother said, too." You giggle. You weren't sure if they were being genuinely mean or not, but you decided to air on the side of caution. You wanted friends. "But he is truly lovely. Do you know him well?"

"You could say that." One of them answers vaguely and you just smile, tucking your bag back under the table. "Your bag is... interesting. Where did you get it?"

"Oh!" You say excitedly, lifting it back onto the table. "My Ma made it for me. Isn't it pretty?"

They laugh, and your smile fades. You thought it was very nice, made from pieces of scrapped linens that she had used in other projects, stitched together into a pattern that made up your shoulder bag. It was perfect for carrying your notebooks and pencils, you had brought it to school back home all your life.

"It's... something else." The girl with the short hair nods.

"Does your Ma hate you? That's so sad." The other girl pouts, resting her chin on her hand.

You quickly hide the bag away again at your feet. "No, of course she doesn't." You weren't sure what to say. Why were they being mean? They had been nice to you a moment ago.

"Did she make your dress, too?"

You just nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

"Wow, yeah, I could tell." You look down at the words, unsure as to what she could see that could be wrong with it. This was one of your favourites.

Admittedly, it was a little short on you, similar in style and colour to the one you had worn to the Capitol the first time you came. But now, looking at what she was wearing and her friend, both with button-up shirts similar to Coryo's and different coloured blazers with a matching skirt, you realize that your attire is very different. Different vastly from everyone in the room as well, as more students are trickling in.

You didn't think it mattered until now.

You don't get the chance to come up with anything in defense of your dress before she reaches out and grabs at the material of your scarf, rubbing it between her fingers. "This is the scarf you had with you in the games. It doesn't look like your mother made it, though. This is mulberry silk."

You jump a little at the unexpected contact, and they laugh. "Uhm, no, she didn't." You clear your throat. "It's a family heirloom. I'm not sure where it came from." Not entirely a lie, it just wasn't your family heirloom.

"Neat. So, where are you staying?" She asks after a moment.

"With Coriolanus and his family. They've been very kind to me." You smile. Their eyes go wide and they look at each other again.

"You mean, on the Corso?"

"Yes, that's what he told me it's called."

"Wow, you really made yourself comfortable here, huh?"

"Well," You laugh slightly. "It's been an interesting transition, but he's made it much easier. He helps as much as he can."

Simultaneously they pick up on the pink flush of your cheeks as you remember the amount of times he's come running when you had a nightmare, only to bring you water and back to his bed to sleep after. Weirdly enough, he made you feel safer now.

"Oh my god." The girl with the bob laughs. "You like him, don't you?"

"Of course I do. He's my friend." You smile, a little confused. That only makes them laugh more, and you pick up on what they were implying. Quickly, you turn even more pink in the face. "Well, I mean, um..."

"Y/N." You turn your head at the mention of your name, looking up at the girl now standing in front of you. She was smiling, and immediately seemed to have a kinder spirit than the girls you were already sitting with. "Come sit with me, Coryo asked me to save you a seat."

"Oh, okay." You nod, grabbing your things again and standing. You were eager now to get away from those other girls.

"Lysistrata, come on. We were just talking to our new friend." The girl with the ponytail pouts, and you look back at Coryo's friend. She just stares at them, something akin to a warning in her expression.

"Where do you want to sit?" You ask her, still recovering from their mildly embarrassing comment as you stand up.

She just nods toward one of the upper rows and starts walking. "It was nice to meet you." You smile at the girls nervously before following behind her.

"Oh, and Twelve?" You stop and turn when the girl with the ponytail speaks up again. "Good luck with Coriolanus, though I hate to tell you I have a head start. We're actually engaged. But like I said, good luck!"

You feel your face pale and you just nod, quickly turning away and focusing your gaze on the long dark braids belonging to the girl leading you up the stairs.

Your mind is absolutely reeling as you follow her to some seats near the back. You didn't know he was engaged. Honestly, you thought you were kind of his girlfriend. He told you he loved you not ten minutes ago, for god's sake! But maybe it had meant something different to him all along. Was this something they did in the Capitol? Because back home if you kissed someone that meant they were your one and only, but maybe that was very different here. So many things are very different here.

"They aren't engaged. Don't listen to her." Coryo's friend, Lysistrata you think her name was, says as you sit down.

You look over at her. "They aren't?"

"No." She scoffs. "Livia just thinks they're getting married because her daddy wants them to. They hardly ever even talk."

"Oh." You reply quietly, looking down the rows at the girls you were just with. That does ease your panic. "Not... not that it matters to me."

"It's okay." She smiles kindly at you. "To be honest, he hates her." She whispers. "I think you've got a much better chance. He speaks very highly of you."

You blush, smiling back at her. "I don't believe we've met properly. My name is Y/N."

"Nice to meet you." She smiles, and for the first time today, it feels genuine. "I'm Lyssie."

"Did you go to the academy too?" You ask for the sake of making conversation. She seems lovely, and you're excited at the idea of actually having a friend in one of your classes.

"I did." She smiles. "I was Jessup's mentor. Coryo and I worked a lot together during the games."

You chew on your lip, nodding slightly.

Today was just full of draining conversations.

"I'm sorry." She adds quietly. "You all deserved better."

"I'm sorry I didn't stay with him." You whisper. "I regret it every day."

"Don't. You did what you had to do, no one holds anything against you. I think you did the right thing."

You just nod, opening your notebook. You have to hope that once you get all these impossible conversations out of the way and people know you better, you'll have other things to talk about. And maybe one day, the topic won't make you want to cry, throw up, and jump off the nearest building all at once.

"He was one of the best of us. He should have won." You say quietly.

"Don't say that." She smiles sadly at you. "I'm glad it was you if it couldn't be him, and he was very sick. He wouldn't have made it much longer anyway."

"I had to go home and see his family." You felt comfortable talking to her, like she wouldn't judge you. It was a relaxing feeling. "My heart breaks for them, they're good people. And they needed him."

"You know his family?" She asks.

"Not really. We've crossed paths here and there, my Ma helps them on occasion with fixing their clothes." You shrug. "Still, though. From what I know, they try to stay in life. Instead of weeping when a tragedy occurs in a songbird's life, it sings away its grief. I believe we could well follow the pattern of our feathered friends."

"Would you happen to know their address? I would love to write to them. To apologize, that is." She explains and you smile, nodding before scribbling it down in your notebook and ripping out the page to hand to her.

"Thank you."

Another two hours, another "icebreaker", and more stares. You hoped that your classmates would eventually get tired of staring at you, you imagined it would make it quite difficult to take notes or pay attention to the lecture.

You felt almost guilty about it. Coryo didn't tell you that everyone would be so shocked but you shouldn't be surprised. Looking down at your clothes and the scarf that had almost entirely been cleaned of the blood stains it carried back to Twelve, you thought maybe it could have something to do with how you dress. Obviously, it would be distracting if you stood out so much, so maybe fitting in would be better. As much as you love your handmade clothes, maybe they would have to be reserved for time spent at the apartment or on rare days out.

Coryo is waiting outside since he got let out a few minutes early. There was no use in starting a lecture when going over the syllabus took a full hour and a half. When students start pouring out of your room, he looks at everyone waiting to see your smiling face. Well, hoping to see you smiling.

Lysistrata walks out first, and with no sign of you with her he grabs her arm to catch her before she turns the other way.

"Thank you for doing that." He says, smiling sympathetically at her.

"Of course." She grins. "She's lovely, we talked for a bit before class."

"Yeah, she is. Anyway, thanks." He nods at her, dropping her arm and with a kind nod, she's back on her way.

He counts his blessings that he had run into her after leaving you for that class a few hours earlier.

"Hey, Lyssie." He grins, stopping her in the hall as she was on the way to class.

"Coryo. How are you?" She smiles and he shrugs.

"I'm alright." He replies quickly. "What class are you going to?"

"Uh..." She looks briefly at her notes. "Geography. B217."

He sighs in relief, and she looks at him confused and lets him pull her to the side of the hall. "That's Y/N's class, would you mind sitting with her? She told me that this morning that no one would and I know she just really wants to make some friends... Could you do that for me?"

"Y/N? As in Y/N Y/L/N, your tribute?" Her eyes go wide and he nods. She didn't pay any attention to gossip and focussed more on getting from one class to another. She didn't even know that you were here.

He chews on his cheek while he waits for her to respond. If anyone was willing to make that social sacrifice, it would be Lyssie. School was never a popularity contest to her.

"Of course I can. Yeah."

When you walk out not long after her, he's quickly joining your side. Earlier, he felt so uneasy having you all over him with people watching and by now he just missed you. If he didn't know better, he would have decided he didn't care- but he has to.

"How was it?" He asks and you smile, as per usual, but he notes that now you have untucked your scarf and are instead using it to drape back over your shoulders and around your arms and back.

"It was delightful." You say happily, following his steps along the hall. "And yours?"

"Delightful?" He asks, smile tugging at his lips. He can't help it. "That wouldn't be a word I would use, but I would say it was okay."

"Okay is better than awful." You shrug.

"Certainly is." He agrees, leaning down to speak quietly into your ear in the loud hallway. "Missed my girl, though."

"Is that me?" You ask, allowing him to open the door to the building for you.

"Of course it's you." He chuckles as you pass him. "What do you mean?"

You laugh. "Well, I met a girl named Livia in my class and she told me that the two of you were engaged."

Coryo groans, letting the door fall shut as he follows behind you. "No, ew. She's... no. Absolutely not. Maybe if I planned on marrying someone I absolutely despise, then she would be the perfect candidate."

"But that's not what you look for in a woman?" You ask, turning to walk backward in front of him.

"Nope."

"I'll take your word for it." You giggle, seemingly nonchalant about Livia's apparently blatant attempts to scare you away. Coryo wouldn't let that happen, and he's glad you didn't see it that way.

He smiles at you as he rejoins your side.

"Coryo." You say, breaking up the peaceful quiet of your walk home. He looks at you. "I think I shall look for a job."

"A job?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at you. "You don't need a job, we talked about this. Just focus on school."

"No, I know." You say quietly. "But I think I would just like some spending money, perhaps get some new clothes. Wouldn't that be nice?"

His heart sinks unexpectedly. As much as he would love to see you blending in more and embracing the culture that came with living in the Capitol, it didn't feel like that would really suit you. If he wanted a Capitol girl, he could have had one. Apparently, that's not what he wanted anymore, but the more you blended in and became "one of them" like he promised Dr. Gaul you would, the more likely people would be to accept the extent of your relationship. However undefined it may still be.

"If that's what you would like, but you don't have to work for that." He shakes his head. "I told you I would take you to the mall, the one with the ice cream shop. Maybe we can go on Friday." Friday was the first day of your weekend- the one day during the week that neither of you had any classes.

"That would be fun." You smile up at him. "I'll just have a look around, see what people are wearing. Get a better idea of what to save for."

"If that's what you want, love."

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl , @dreamyysouls, @rockstarbfs, @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie, @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore , @strawberryflavouredkisses

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

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flowerxbunnie · 6 months

Note

idk if you did it already but i neeeed your version of the nsfw alphabet ( matt or chris idrc i just need it ) 😩😩

NSFW Alphabet

Matthew Sturniolo

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT OKAY WITH SMUT OR ARE A MINOR

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s an angel when it comes to aftercare! He rubs your back (or your legs if you bounced on him for a while) and def makes sure you get cleaned up, he’s deathly afraid of you getting a UTI 😂

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite body part on himself is his waist, we’ve ALLLL seen the way this man loves a slutty little slightly cropped shirt. He knows he looks good

His favorite on you is your back. He loves the way he can see the two lines of muscle running down your spine and the dip in the middle as he’s hitting it from the back. Also the way he can stick his thumbs into the little dimples at the bottom 😏

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

This man is OBSESSEDDDD with seeing you swallow his cum. He thinks it’s the hottest thing ever when you stick your tongue out to show him you swallowed every drop

If you’re not feeling down for swallowing it, he’ll go for whatever you want!

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

….we all know at this point. This man is RUNNING through smutty fics and constantly getting ideas 😈 has a whole folder full of his favs to refer back to

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not a super crazy body count, but he for sure knows what he’s doing and makes sure you’re pleased

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves to watch you bounce on him, he likes that he can see your pretty face and can feel in control when he grabs your hips to guide you, or be more submissive when you hold his hands down

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He definitely makes jokes when the time is right but he likes to keep it serious for the most part!

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Kinda like his stubble, he’ll let it grow out for a bit and then give it a nice trim. Never fully bald down there though, he doesn’t like the way it looks 😂

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He LOVES to fuck, but when you make love.. he’s going all out. Throwing out so many compliments, caressing every inch of your skin, lighting candles, picking a playlist of songs. He usually does all the work when he’s feeling lovey dovey too 🥹

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Oh this man JERKS it. When he’s not with you he will literally call you and beg for you to guide him through it. And if you’re busy you already know he’s going into a hidden folder with plenty of pics and videos of you!

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Call me crazy butttt… I think matt would call you his puppy ✋🏻 no elaboration needed

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He lovesssss car sex, especially road head. He loves finding spots to park at and bend you over the hood 😇

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

For some reason he’s really turned on when you cop an attitude with him. He loves to be the one to put you back in your place

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Piss/shit 🚫🚫 he would literally throw up if you even jokingly asked

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Maybe a hot take.. but I think he prefers getting head. Obviously he would never turn down the opportunity to rub his stubble between your thighs 😈 but he loves seeing you work your hardest on your knees to please him

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Both! He knows the perfect times to switch up his pace to drive you crazyyy. But if he had to pick he would go for slow but deep, rough strokes

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He prefers to take his time and make it a good experience, but he would never turn down a quickie! He loves when you drag him off into a bathroom because you can’t hold out until you get home

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

For most things! He’s pretty open minded and is always looking for new ideas and ways to please you/himself

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

1 😂 2 on a good night. He uses so much energy teasing and edging you and when he finally does cum, he is SPENT

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He keeps a bunch of pretty vibes, whips, handcuffs etc to use on you! He doesn’t really prefer them for himself but occasionally will let you hold a bullet vibrator against him while you suck him off 😇😇

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh he is SUCH a tease. He’s always pushing you to your limits. He loves to hear you beg and plead

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not a screamer by any means but he makes sure you know when he’s feeling good. He groans and pants a lot, and sometimes a moan will slip out and he always blushes a tiny bit hehe

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He LOVES when you take him lingerie shopping with you. He gets to help you pick out what he’s gonna tear off of you later 😇 good luck in the fitting room btw!

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Above average by a little, but it’s nice and thick, plenty enough to fill you up. He knows how to work it 🤓

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

This man is a freakkkkk. At least 4 times a week if not everyday.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He likes to make sure you feel well taken care of afterwards so he does his best to stay awake and make sure you’re all good before he cleans himself and dozes off!

Taglist: @lustfulslxt @whotfisade @soursturniolo @recklesssturniolo @lxvlysworld @chrisolivia4l @kiarastromboli @mattnchrisworld @cupidsword @kvtie444 @xplrfear @knowingnothingnoel

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo

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yauchfilms · 1 month

Text

big thighs, new jersey ✢ mattias samuelsson (18+)

pairing: mattias samuelsson x fem!reader (childhood friends to lovers)

warnings: pining. so much pining. fem language (reader is referred to as a woman). cursing. alcohol consumption. reader and mattias are drunk but coherent. super vague religious imagery. oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, fingering, petnames, praise, enthusiastic consent, cocky mattias but literally who is shocked, begging, so many feelings involved. ever so slight angst.

summary: y/n has been in love with mattias since they first met when they were 8, and they had matching bowl cuts. being his best friend is the hardest job she’s ever been tasked with. 16 years of pure desperation all boils down to one night on the beach.

word count: 5.2k ... jesus christ

author's note: welcome to what is essentially a year's worth of brainrot, compiled into one fic. i started this concept a year ago with some friends, and now thanks to @pldstattoos, @flashyfucker, and @puck-luck, it is now a tangible piece of literature. based ever so loosely on the song “big thighs, nj” by lowcut connie, amongst other tunes that i will share later. this man just SCREAMS childhood friends to lovers so i had to give my very best to my favorite boy ever.

it’s late again.

he’s got one arm draped over your shoulders, gesturing wildly to the rest of the group with his can of seltzer, not spilling a single drop. the old, paint-stained sheet you two share has gone cold, matching the feeling of the sand beneath it.

if he remembered you brought that old “seaside heights” sweatshirt you bought back in the heyday of the jersey shore era with you to the beach when you told him you were cold, eyes wide and hopeful, he kept it to himself.

another day spent at the beach with your friends, skitting along the sand, never too far apart from each other. you could feel him on your skin like the humidity.

it’s been like this since your parents agreed, reluctantly, that you were too old for day camps and you barely got to see mattias anymore during the school year. your mom softened when you mentioned him like she always did. since then, you’d bike to his house in the morning to find him strapping on his rollerblades. you’d make him race you for a few blocks since he insisted on cross-training in the offseason or whatever it was he said to make himself feel like he wasn’t totally slacking off. then you both slowed down, falling into a rhythm about as familiar as your own heartbeat. you’d meet up with friends, skipping through town and letting the breeze off the ocean push you one way or another. and more often than not, it ended around a fire pit — and as you got older — with cans in hands, recounting the day and making half-hearted plans for the next one.

except, now you’re older. old enough that you just finished your first ever real internship, one that led you up to the summer, now leaving you with the stress of finding a real job. but that doesn’t matter right now. what matters right now is the fact that you’re back with your friends, on the beach, recalling those stories from long ago, like how you broke your arm when you were 10 because you insisted to mattias and his older brother, luke, that you could do a cartwheel on the trampoline in your roller skates. it had been his older sister, allie, that called the ambulance, naturally.

you’re acutely aware that there are a finite number of these days and nights left. mattias is a big-time hockey player now (well, not actually, but to you, he might as well be wayne gretzky), and just like you, he can’t spend his whole life on the beach. but you really wish he could, with you, forever. knowing you have to share him with the world, that’s the part that eats at you.

you’re also acutely aware of his position on you, his hand skirting just barely along the top of your bikini top, just barely out of reach from where you really wish he’d lay his hands. you wonder if he can feel the goosebumps on your skin from the calm jersey winds.

mattias’ voice vibrates through your body, its deep, steady buzz keeping you centered. it’s not until you hear angelo let out an almost inhumane noise that triggers the group into a state of hysteria, that you feel a cold splash on your shoulder and the sound of mattias stifling a choked laugh, snapping you out of your thoughts. you glance up at mattias, whose guilt slowly etches onto his face as he drunkenly realizes what he’s done. he didn’t even spill that much, but he knows there’s a good chance you’ll overdramatize for the sake of poking fun at him.

“mattias, how could you!” you widen your eyes again and fling your wrist against your forehead, leaning your back into him as though you’re fainting. you stick to your performance as much as you can, trying to ignore how his muscular frame presses against you, his arms catching you with your quick movements. he’s leaning down over you, rolling his eyes and laughing at you. you smell the scent of mango and alcohol on his breath, his signature summer scent at this point. you could kiss him right now if you wanted; he was close enough to your face.

you want to chastise him for not being more careful, for not paying attention to his own body. but you know it weighs on him more than anyone else. there are boundaries you know not to cross.

he lifts up his shirt, just enough to use it as a makeshift towel for the drink he spilled on you. just enough to see his soft, tan skin and the ripple of his muscles that he, for some reason, chooses to hide more often than not.

“sorry, baby. lemme help you,” he half-whispers, because he’s mattias, a man who can never be truly silent. baby. a nickname he started using on you when you were 15, starting to drink when you went to the cool parents’ house, a nickname that he only really uses on you when you’ve both been under some sort of influence. he knows the effect that it has on you, and you hate that you know that he seems to do it on purpose. he’s so unfair sometimes.

he uses his free arm to keep you steady, wrapping his arm around your stomach. you can feel his heartbeat against your back, but choose not to focus on it too much. you’re practically in his lap now, being cradled in his arms as you feel the soft material of his shirt swipe down your arm, and back over your shoulder, and just along that same forbidden spot along the hem of your bikini top. it’s killing you at this point.

“all good?” he asks, causing you to be forced to look him in the eyes again.

“all good,” you squeak out, your voice barely a whisper, leaning back into him and taking your spot back in his arms.

“sorry again, dude,” he slurs, smoothing down the messy hair on top of your head, and it reminds you that you, too, have plenty of alcohol in your body, and it’s just now starting to catch up. it’s that same consumption of alcohol that would account for why no one has paid attention to either of you for the past 5 minutes, everyone caught up in telling their own drunken tales from the past.

you go to tell him that you swear it’s okay, when josh loudly —and suddenly— announces his departure from the group, saying something about his early morning tee time with his dad the next day. it was from there that lauren, bri, and anna got up and began making their way back to the house together, arm in arm, giggling about an inside joke that you had been too distracted to participate in. julian and angelo linger for a few minutes longer, arguing with each other and mattias about stuff that doesn’t matter. your eyes feel heavier still. the pair of boys eventually peel off, their yawns becoming hard to ignore. they bid their goodbyes to you and your human pillow, disappearing up the dune and into the house.

mattias nudges you, and you stir.

“do you want to head in? it’s, like, 3:45 am,” mattias asks, showing you the time on his phone. his phone background – a photo of the group, his arms, wrapped around your chest, everyone smiling like it was picture day – lights up your face, the sudden brightness causing you to squint. sure enough, the clock reads 3:42 am. you let out a sigh, twisting in his arms so you’re laying with your back to the sheet, between his thighs. he grabs your head on both sides, shaking it slightly, his fingers loosely carding through your hair. you don’t say anything, just staring up at him like he’s a god of some sort.

“what’s up? talk to me. did i do something?” he looks down at you, a sympathetic look in his eyes mixed with that damn smirk of his.

“tias,” is all you can manage to get out, your voice barely a whisper.

“yeah?” his voice suddenly going quieter than normal. this is rare, and it worries you.

“would you be mad at me if i asked you to kiss me?” you ask, suddenly feeling bold and vulnerable with your loneliness in the moonlight.

“of course i wouldn’t; am i ever mad when you ask?” he replies, cocking an eyebrow at you. and he was right. you two had made out countless times before, always in private, never escalating past light groping, always leaving you both high and dry, but too scared to ask for more. even at your big ages, you were still stuck in this routine, always running back to each other when the girl mattias tried to fly out bailed on him or the guy you met at the bar ended up giving you a weird vibe. it was normal in some way. like, of course best friends kiss each other. why wouldn’t they?

“you don’t get it, i don’t think,” you dare, the alcohol in your system giving you a strange boost of confidence.

his hands loosen around your head, ever so slowly moving down your neck, over your shoulders, and to that damned spot on your chest. your body reacts to his touch, suddenly hyper-aware of just how cold you are on the beach in nothing but a bathing suit.

“no, i think i do. let me know if i’m reading this wrong, but i think i get it,” he responds.

you adjust yourself between his legs, your head now laying on his upper thigh. you feel the strong muscles tighten underneath you, causing a chill to run down your spine. looking up at him, your eyes soften, and he leans down again, feeling his breath on your face. the scent of mango white claw still lingers, only slightly less prominent now. you squirm slightly at the feeling of him so close.

“tell me what you want,” he speaks, low and gravelly. the feeling of it in your eardrums sends a pang straight to your core.

“what do you think i want?” you tease, wondering if he truly has caught on, or if he’s telling you want you want to hear.

“you want me to fuck you, don’t you?” his words catch you off guard, even though he said exactly what you were hoping for. “you don’t think i haven't felt you squirming in my lap all night? i’m not that dumb, baby.” his voice is barely audible at this point, just enough to get his point across.

all you can do is stare up at him, suddenly unable to form a complete thought, putty in his lap. your breathing grows heavier, and he can’t help but notice.

“so, what’ll it be?”

“please, ti.”

he pulls you up into his lap and you straddle him, finding your place settled directly above the bulge in his since-dried board shorts. his hands immediately find their place along your sides, gliding gently up and down from your ribcage to your hips. his fingers linger slightly over the string of your bikini, toying with it, not daring to remove it. he leans down, connecting your lips from where they were parted dumbfoundedly in front of him, as if you had never been in that position with him before. you had, but this was different.

he moves slowly, as if wanting to take his time with you, not knowing whether or not this would be the first or the only time he would have his way with you. you open your mouth once again, a moan escaping your lips. he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, licking up into you with desperation. the roll of your hips against him elicits a loud groan from him, now, and you decide that if that was the last thing you ever heard, you would die a happy woman. you can feel his shorts growing tighter underneath your lap, causing you to roll your hips again, slower than the first time. another groan escapes his lips, causing you to stop and look him in the eyes, your hands holding his face tenderly.

“what are you so fucking loud for?” you tease, knowing that the sounds he’s making are turning you on even more, as evident by the wet spot growing on his shorts.

“sorry, i’ve just been thinking about this moment since we were 16. you don’t know how hard its been to keep my cool around you, y/n. i’ve been so good, so patient. i can’t think of anything i’ve ever wanted more than this,” he says, panting slowly, trying to control his breathing. he seems as if a huge weight has been lifted off of his chest.

you hold back the tears threatening to spill over your waterline. you feel the exact same way, just unsure of how to express it. all you can do is plant a delicate kiss to his lips, letting the moment speak for itself. his hands find that spot of your bikini top, finger rubbing lightly on the freshly tanned skin there.

“may i, please?” he almost begs, toying with the strap of the thin top, a look of desperation looking up at you with big hazel eyes.

“of course,” you whisper, a kiss planted to the tip of his nose.

long, slender fingers make their way down your shoulders to the front of your chest, as he hooks the strap around his fingers, pulling slightly. a gasp escapes his lips as your full chest is exposed, the harsh chill immediately giving you goosebumps, you reaching back to unclasp and remove the rest of it. he sees the way your body reacts to the cold, and he takes your right breast in his large hand, enveloping it in his grasp, and you immediately feel warmer. he kisses you again, more passionate than the last, massaging the flesh in his hand, deft fingers keeping rhythm against your skin.

he leans back, taking you with him, now fully laying on top of him on the sandy blanket. his hands trail to your ass, the lack of his hand on your chest not too significant due to the lack of space between your bodies now.

the kiss never breaks, your hips rolling deep into him, the feeling of his hardness underneath you growing almost unbearable.

“ti, i need you to touch me please,” you sigh, pulling away.

all he can do is look up at you, his face slack as he furiously nods his head.

his hand trails down your ass, following the hem of your bikini bottoms, his fingers tracing the fabric down to your core. he moves the fabric to the side, sliding his fingers through your folds with a loud gasp.

“oh my god, so fucking wet,” he groans into your shoulder, you kissing up and down his neck, nibbling just below his ear.

“just for you, only you,” you whisper in his ear, causing his hips to buck up at you. “slow down,” you warn, not wanting to waste this moment.

he begins rubbing down on your clit, and now it’s your turn to moan. he glides his middle finger through your wetness a few more times before slowly teasing your entrance with the pad of his finger. you let out a whimper, signaling that he can go ahead. he slides his finger into your cunt, and you immediately feel the stretch of his thick digit.

“can you take another, baby?” he asks, not necessarily waiting for permission before adding a second finger. the stretch was almost unbearable, and he could feel you react to it so viscerally while he scissored his fingers slowly in and out.

“just wait till you take my cock,” he growls, his confidence suddenly taking over.

“now, please,” you whine, desperate for what you’d dreamt about since you were a horny teenager fantasizing about his length in math class.

“what happened to patience, baby?” he questioned, fingers never losing pace in your cunt. “i wanna taste you; are you gonna let me do that, huh?”

all you could seem to muster out was a weak “mhm”; his fingers already overwhelming you.

he removes his fingers, eliciting a wince from you. turning you over in his arms, he begins kissing your face, barely avoiding your lips, down your chin, to your neck, stopping right by your ear.

“i know baby, i know, i’m gonna take such good care of you, don’t you worry, baby,” his voice almost primitive.

he returns to his path down your neck, leaving marks that you’re sure your friends will see in the morning. he takes his time, agonizingly slow, and you wonder how he hasn’t come in his shorts yet with how patient he’s being. he gets to your chest, placing chaste kisses across it, until he reaches your left breast. he takes your nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue, causing you to arch up into him. he doesn’t say anything, simply opting to hum into your skin, the sensation driving you crazy. he comes off with a pop, his hand quickly replacing his mouth as he makes his way over to the other side.

you run your fingers through his hair, the hair that he has yet to ruin with his midsummer chop. you twist the longer locks between your fingers, needing some sort of stimulation. your hands trail down his back, tugging at the collar of his t-shirt, wondering why it’s even still on in the first place, suddenly feeling overexposed.

“take this off, now,” you demand, your voice sounding stricter than you intended. he stops, leaning up on his knees to look down at the beautiful sight below him.

“yes, ma’am,” he groans, drawing out each word. if he hadn’t had you pinned down beneath him, you probably would arched up into him. he reaches behind him, yanking the top over his head in one fell swoop, exposing his soft, tan chest, the few hairs left at the top near the base of his neck curling up neatly.

“stop starin’, baby,” he teases, knowing exactly what you’re thinking, although both of you refuse to acknowledge it; something to tease him about at a different time.

he leans back down towards you, placing a soft kiss to your lips, eliciting a giggle from you, which makes him pull back, that signature goofy grin of his plastered across his face.

“you ready?” he asks, making sure you two are on the same page, although he knows he doesn't have to ask.

a soft “please” escapes your lips, reverberating off of his own, and he begins making his way down your body, starting with your neck, softly nibbling at the skin there. he trails down your shoulder, kissing the newly-formed freckles that have appeared from the past few days of sunshine, then, obviously stopping to spend a quick second alone with your tits. from there he makes it to your stomach, causing your breath to hitch sharply. he pulls back, quickly placing another peck to your lips, as if to say “it's okay”.

he regains his place at your navel, using his hands to pry your legs apart for him. despite your sudden shyness, you oblige immediately, and he lets out a guttural groan at the view of the wet spot prominently featured on your bikini bottoms.

“i need these off, now,” he demands, this time, tugging at the strings of your bikini, undoing the ties on your hips, patting the flesh of your hip to lift up for him. you oblige, and your bottoms are joined with your top in the sand.

mattias ducks back down, face fully aligned with your cunt. his finger once again finds its place between your folds, not quite doing anything, but rather scoping out just how wet you truly are. another groan escapes him, mixing with the moan that escapes you, harmonizing together into what you could only describe as a masterpiece. his groan echoes off of you, feeling the warm breath of him.

you look down at him, and he looks up to meet your eyes. while never breaking eye contact, he allows a string of spit to fall down his tongue and into your folds, making your legs twitch, embarrassingly though, because his tongue had yet to make contact.

you think he’s about to touch you again, when you suddenly feel the cooling sensation of his mouth on you, catching you off guard. his tongue circles your clit, much like how he had your nipple in his mouth earlier, causing you to arch your back into his face, the feeling of just 3 days worth of stubble stinging your thighs. he wraps his arms around your upper thighs, holding you in place.

“gotta be still baby; taste so fucking good. i love this pussy,” he coos, his warm breath once again driving you mad.

you giggle, not out of malice, but because you often found yourself alone at night, imagining him saying similar things to you, your own hand never seeming to do the trick. you wonder if he’s ever done the same, even though you’re pretty sure you know the answer.

you thought your reaction would’ve deterred him, but shockingly, it only seemed to motivate him more, picking up his speed, practically making out with your core. his nose, long and slender, hits your clit, sending shockwaves through you, your legs growing shakier with each kitten lick.

“mattias, i’m close,” your words croak out; you can barely think straight.

“you’re doin’ so good for me,” he pants, trying to stifle the moans that dare to escape his lips. “you got it, baby, so fuckin’ good.”

his words, mixed with his motions, are enough to send you over the edge. he continues his movements with his tongue on your clit, electing to tease your hole with his finger. the sensation is too much, and you try your best to keep your screams in, knowing that your entire friend group is a mere yards away, likely sleeping off their hangovers that were bound to appear.

you come, then, your legs shaking in his arms as he continues to lick through your orgasm. as your breathing becomes sporadic and heavy, he peels off, running his hands down the sides of your body to calm you down — and warm you up.

your shaking doesn’t stop, and you’re almost certain its due to the fact that the temperatures have dropped since you and him became preoccupied, but there’s no point in going inside now.

“how you feelin’, baby?” he asks, spooning you against his chest as you lay on the blanket. “you’re shivering. do you wanna go inside? we can finish this in my room, if you want,” he continues, stroking your arms tenderly in his grip.

“need you inside me, now,” you mewl, not fully able to find your words. you were gonna finish what you started.

“you sure?” he whispers, and you can feel his heart beating faster — and his shorts growing tighter — behind your back.

“tias, i can feel you. you want this as bad as i do,” you half-argue back.

“i don’t have a condom or anything; are you sure it’s fine?” he implores.

“oh my god, mattias, please just fuck me already,” you whine, begging him for more.

and with that, he’s rolling you over, pinning you to the sheet, the warmth of his body caging you in.

he begins kissing you again, his movements slow and soft, savoring the moment, all while simultaneously thrusting down onto you, trying to get some kind of friction going. you reach down between your bodies, untying the strings of the bright red shorts he’s wearing. you fidget with the waistband, and he lets out another groan.

“go for it,” he confirms, panting into your ear, and you tug them down just enough for his cock to bob free. he shuffles them off, discarding them with the previous pile of clothes, and you look down between you two. he was right, it was big. you begin calculating in your head how he was going to make it work, suddenly growing desperate to find out.

“told you,” he says, with that stupid smirk back on his face. you let out an exasperated laugh, catching his chains in between your teeth. it’s his turn to laugh now.

he pumps himself a few times, although he definitely didn't need to, adjusting himself in order to line himself up with your entrance. he glides his cock through your folds, and you arch up into him. he uses that opportunity to grab onto your back, keeping you flush with his body again.

he finally pushes in, and the stretch of him is almost mindnumbing.

“holy shit,” is all you can muster, as he bottoms out and readjusts himself to get the right angle. he begins slowly rocking in and out, not quite fully pushing all the way back in, and you can tell that he thinks you can’t take it.

you moan his name, signalling for him to pick up speed. the sounds of your bodies mixing together are most definitely echoing through the air, and you hope and pray that none of your neighbors have decided to go for an early morning jog.

he finds his rhythm, picking up your left leg and hooking it over his hip. this angle is heavenly, and you can tell it feels good for him, too, because another throaty groan escapes his lips.

“so tight, holy fuck. you like that, baby?,” he asks, planting kisses across your chest and neck, leaving plenty of marks in his wake.

“yes, oh my god, ti,” you squeak, the feeling of his thrusts interrupting your ability to speak in full sentences.

you can feel him getting closer, judging by the way his cock twitches inside you.

“where do you want me, sweetheart?” he asks, and you know exactly what he means.

“anywhere. just not in,” you reply, your paranoia suddenly taking over.

he complies, pulling out. the loss of contact makes you wince, but he leans back on his heels, jerking himself off over you. your hand reaches down between your thighs, rubbing your own clit, until he swats it away, replacing it with his own free hand. the image of the large, muscular body in front of you, doing what he’s doing, is enough to send you to your second orgasm of the night. you come, quickly, nothing but smalls gasps escaping your lips. this is enough for him, and he spills, painting your chest with his seed.

you can’t help but grab for your own breast, lightly rubbing it into your skin. mattias is still straddling you, his own breathing trying to recover.

“i wish i could take a picture right now,” he says. “this is the hottest thing i’ve seen in my life. you’re so perfect, oh my god.” he’s panting.

“why don’t you?” you ask, motioning toward his long-abandoned phone on the blanket next to you both. his eyes grow wide, as if he was certain that he had misheard you, until you quip, “seriously, go for it. something to think about on your roadies. consider it a gift,” you tease, and he scrambles to grab his phone. he turns it on, the time now reading 4:38 am. the sun is just barely starting to peak over the water, the sky now a pale purple, like something out of a national geographic magazine.

he swipes to the camera app, lining you up in the frame, your come-covered tits prominately centered in the middle, the breaking of dawn just barely visible behind you. you hear the camera click, and you let out an exasperated giggle. leaning up, you wrap your hands around his neck, and he pulls you close.

“it’s fucking freezing out here,” you complain, your shivering suddenly returning to your body.

“i know, i hid your sweatshirt under the blanket about 2 hours ago,” mattias reveals, and you smack him lightly on the back of the head. he reaches over, lifting up the corner of the sheet, revealing the old sweatshirt, shaking the sand out of it. he uses the old sheet to clean you up quickly, then helps you place the sweatshirt on, planting a sweet kiss to your lips as your head pops out the top.

“we should definitely head in now,” you say, standing up from your place in his lap. reaching for your bikini bottoms and loosely retying them to your hips, you then throw his shorts and shirt playfully against his chest, and he quickly and haphazardly put them back on. he continues to hold on to your top, and he grabs your hand as you make your way back up the dune, up to his house that is all too quiet now.

you walk through the gate, pausing at the sliding glass door, turning to face him.

“we should talk about this, later,” you say, scared of what he might say next. he looks down at you, his height suddenly overwhelming you.

“later is good, yeah. let’s just savor it for now, okay?” he suggests, and you wonder if he truly means it. your friends would surely catch on, and you have no clue how to go about that awkward conversation, even though, unbeknownst to the both of you, the group had been placing bets for years now about how long it would take for you two to break. anna was about to be $1,000 richer.

with that, you two quietly open the sliding glass door, both cringing slightly at the chime of the alarm system that notifies when doors are opened and closed. he leads you up the stairs, daring to not make any extra noise, when he stops at his bedroom door, your shared guest room that housed the 3 other sleeping girls just 2 doors down.

“stay with me, please?” he begs, and his eyes soften. he reaches up to rub his left eye with his finger, a nervous tic of his that never goes unnoticed from you.

“of course,” you whisper, and you let him lead you through to his room.

you make your way to his bed, grabbing a pair of his sweatpants that had been thrown lazily on the floor, replacing your bikini bottoms with them, the small article joining the pile next to you. he climbs up onto the bed with you, a fresh pair of boxer briefs now on his body. he pulls you close, taking in the scent of your hair — the salt of the ocean, now mixed with his cologne — and he lets out what sounds like the largest sigh of relief of his life.

you once again feel his heartbeat against your chest, this time, the steadiness, mixed with his rhythmic breathing, lulls you into sleep.

this wasn’t the first time you two had shared a bed, but it was different, this time. as you drift off, you hoped that it wouldn’t be the last time you fell asleep with him holding you like this.

#mattias samuelsson #mattias samuelsson x reader #mattias samuelsson smut #nhl x reader #nhl smut #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction

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munsster · 2 years

Text

love languages with billy hargrove

A/N: literally f*ck canon? that shite is ass and to me, billy is still very alive and maybe even thriving. anyways here’s a fluffy headcanon

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x GN!Reader

him not really understanding/knowing anything at all about love languages when you first get together

but it turns out, with you, he's a sucker for every single one of them

quality time is a given, but he doesn't even realize how warm he gets when you randomly call him or drop by his home or visit him while he's on duty

in his mind, he's like wtf why are u obsessed with me baby, but really, he's definitely the one who's obsessed

him getting back at you for all your surprise visits by crawling through your window????

like the sentiment is there, and he's so proud of himself for thinking of it, but you both know he did it to make out with you on your bed, right?

despite how hard he tries to hide his love for spontaneous nighttime drives and mini backyard picnics, you can tell by the way he holds back a smile that he wouldn't trade it for the world

also??? maybe you're not really a party person until he convinces you to come along, and the fact that you enjoyed being by his side the whole night is so fascinating to him

and there's no way he's going to another without you

apparently, it's the little things that get his softie gears turning

like he never really talks much, but he's obsessed with listening to you, even when he's stone faced; if you love it enough to talk his ear off about it, he's gonna love it, too

i won't even get started on the praise kink unlocked achievement.

okay maybe i will...

(just saying, once you figure it out, you'd definitely drop a casual "good boy" or a "you did so well, baby" literally whenever and he's like instantaneous heart eyes, hubba hubba, foaming at the mouth, convulsing, probably)

even getting him to talk about himself once in a while, and he feels so light afterward. like goddamn, somebody he loves wants to listen to him???? no fucking chance

except yes fucking chance, and he looks so handsome when he gets all puppy dog excited about his actual interests

he catches you staring at his mouth while he's talking and he clams up, getting all blushy and looking away

("no, no, it's cute! i'm listening" "shut up" "i like hearing you speak" "minx")

he's Melting.

okay, basically, the only experience—prior to you—he has with gifts (giving and receiving) is his mom, but he was little, and he's not a huge fan of toys anymore

and then you buy him a fancy new pair of sunglasses out of the blue, and his heart is fucking bursting

and of COURSE he brushes it off. maybe a thanks and a kiss on the cheek. or maybe a full on make out sesh in the front seat of his car with the sunglasses on top of his head keeping his hair out of his face?

just as a simple show of gratitude, of course

and then a couple weeks later he buys you your favorite cassette (definitely NOT because it also happens to have one of his favorite songs on it. psssh no way.)

you smile and squeal and wrap your arms around him and he totally shrugs it off, but he'd buy you the world if you'd have that reaction everytime.

okay, he found it a little weird when you offered to help tidy up his room, but on second thought, you look so cute setting his things on shelves—on display—because you're so amazed by how very billy they all are

or when you give max rides home and spend time with her while he's working. and turns out you guys are two-peas-in-a-pod close

just wait till billy finds out and you become THREE-peas-in-a-pod. hawkins #1 most chaotic evil trio, with you playing mediator (a given)

because as much as he thinks max is a little shit sometimes, she's also his baby sister, and somewhere deep inside his aching heart, he has a soft spot that's not getting any smaller thanks to you

now... that physical touch category is a touchy subject…. haha (sorry)

definitely the hardest to tame and the one that takes the longest to get used to, but also the one he likes the very most

seriously, every soft and precious thing he ever had was stripped from him by his deadbeat father

until you came along

and knowing that, you ease into touch with billy very, very slowly

like the most contact you have in the first couple months is either your pinkies brushing when you walk places together or handing him something and his is palm all rough and warm against your knuckles

but even that makes you both pull away all flustered

and when you do finally slip your hand into his, he's spiraling and praying you keep it there forever

like once you're holding hands, he is not letting go until you duck into his car, but even then, once he's seated, he is driving home one handed because he will not be caught dead without your fingers tucked snug between his

and that's where things truly take a turn for the better

he gets bolder. closer. and needless to say, you breathe a lot harder when he sits down with his thigh against yours and his hand on your knee

or his arm around your shoulders so he can lean down and whisper in your ear whenever??? goosebumps

also like when your mind goes off in the distance, it becomes a new thing that you're tethered to him (playing with his hands, drawing your fingertips over his skin, leaving small kisses over his face)

he thinks he's crazy for deserving something like this, and if he could lay right here for the rest of his life, he would

sometimes you even go as far as mindlessly braiding/brushing/running your fingers through his hair and he's just sitting there purring like a little kitten. how did you do that????

sometimes he might get overwhelmed by it, but he’ll let you know and you’re quick to give him physical space, and his heart is so full; you’re so understanding he could cry

billy never blames his touch aversion on anyone except his dad

and he especially never blames you

you're a goddamn angel, and looking back, he even laughs a little that you both were so tentative around each other at the beginning

masterlist

#stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things x y/n #x reader #x y/n #billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargove imagine #head canon #headcanon #billy hargrove headcanon #fluff #love languages #i am so soft for this boy #please duffers #redeem billy hargrove im begging #*

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merrybloomwrites · 7 months

Text

Harryween

Summary: Harry dons a Dorothy costume for Harryween and reader thinks he's never looked better.

Warnings: Smut, p-in-v sex

AN: My fyp was full of Harry in his Dorothy costume this morning so I decided to write the filthiest thing I've ever written at 6a.m. Enjoy!

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In the time that you and Harry have been together you’ve seen him wear hundreds of different outfits. From the sweats he relaxes in at home to the fancy clothes he puts on for events and his concerts, everything looks good on him.

But nothing could have prepared you for October 30, 2021.

You’ve been to plenty of Harry’s shows, and while you sometimes stay backstage while he gets dressed, more often than not you leave before that so you can be surprised by his attire just like everyone else. This has led to a fair number of times where you’ve had to quickly calm yourself to keep your jaw from literally dropping.

But tonight. Harryween night one. This is by far the hardest night to keep your cool. The second Harry skips on stage in his Dorothy costume everything else fades away. You’re so focused on watching him that you don’t even hear the first song or the screaming fans around you. All that exists is Harry. Harry in that little dress with the cute tights and delicate bloomers. Harry with his hair in a bow and blush on his cheeks. Your thoughts are absolutely sinful. And they stay that way.

Normally you have a pretty good grasp on yourself. Even when your boyfriend is literally hip thrusting and sliding his hands down his toned body on stage, you can get your mind out of the gutter. But not tonight. No matter how hard you try, nothing is helping to get rid of the now persistent ache in your belly. Because the show is more than halfway over, and you’ve been turned on the entire time to the point that it’s becoming painful. There’s nothing you can do to try and ease the tension and you feel like you’re putting on just as much of a show as Harry is in order to hide your dirty thoughts.

All through the show your mind was playing through different scenarios of what to do when you get him alone in your hotel suite. At first you thought this might be a night to pull out your strap on and harness. You imagine how pretty he’d look under you, his skirt hiked up as you slide into him over and over. You think of the face he’ll make when you find that special spot, how his chest will turn as pink as his cheeks.

Even though his outfit was inherently “feminine” he had never before looked so manly, so in tune with his masculine side. That was the moment you realized you needed him inside of you; needed him as hard and as deep as possible. Unfortunately, this realization was during the third song of the night and you knew you’d be suffering in want for well over an hour.

You’re practically weak in the knees by the time the intro to Kiwi starts, and the second the last note is played you rush to the car that’s waiting for you and Harry.

You make it there a minute before he does and the anticipation of him joining you in the enclosed space dressed the way he’s dressed has you even more turned on.

He slides in the backseat next to you. And it’s torture. Because there’s still the driver and security guard in the front seats and now you can see Harry up close, and he looks even better than you thought. In addition to the makeup, he has a post-show glow and you find yourself taking deep breaths to calm your racing heart.

“You alright? Your cheeks are as pink as mine.” Harry’s sudden words startle you out of your daydreams and into reality.

You look into his eyes and his concerned face immediately turns into a knowing smirk. He can’t say anything he wants to, not with company in the front of the car, but he can’t pass up an opportunity to tease you. He slides a hand to your thigh under your poofy skirt and slowly drags it up. When he reaches your center he ghosts his fingertips over your panties. He doesn’t even need to slip inside of them or put any pressure to feel how wet you are. They’re absolutely drenched. You’re dripping with arousal, probably have been for nearly two hours. The realization sends Harry blood south, and he’s grateful that all his layers should hide his growing erection.

The rest of the car ride, as well as the time in the elevator, is charged with sexual tension. Finally, you’re in the privacy of your hotel suite. Before you even get to the bedroom you’re on him, desperately pressing kisses to his lips. He follows your lead for a moment before pulling back, deciding that he still wants to tease you a bit. It’s been a while since you were so worked up and he loves to see you this way, to know the effect he has on you.

You try to pull him in for a deep kiss but he’s only allowing small pecks. You finally groan in frustration, and he has the nerve to ask you what’s wrong. His voice indicates he knows exactly what he’s doing, and part of you wants to slap him for being such a tease. But a bigger part of you just wants to do whatever it takes to get him into bed. So you refrain from violence.

“Please,” you say, not above begging at this point.

“Please what?” he asks, even though the flush of your cheeks and fully dilated pupils alone are enough to tell him what you want.

“I need you.”

“Ah, so you’re a needy little thing tonight huh? What’s got you feeling this way?”

“You, Harry.”

“Hmm, I think it’s something else. What specifically has you so worked up?”

You roll your eyes at this, how he keeps asking questions he knows the answers to just to tease you and delay giving you what you really want. You play along, hoping that it will speed up this process.

“It’s this outfit, okay? The dress and the bloomers and the tights and the makeup and the hair and all of it! Not sure what it says about me that you in a dress is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, but fuck, this is literally the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. And I’ve been turned on since the second you stepped on stage and it’s honestly becoming painful at this point so can you please, please, fuck me? And don’t act like you’re not horny too, cause your dick’s obviously hard enough to tent that skirt even with the layers underneath.”

After that outburst Harry just stares at you for a moment while you catch your breath.

“Yea, you’re not wrong,” he says simply with a shrug before giving in. He lifts you over his shoulder and carries you to the bedroom.

He lays you down on the bed and crashes his lips into yours. Your mouth immediately opens as you let out a satisfied moan, happy to finally be connected to him. His tongue slides against yours as his hands roam your torso. You slip your hands into his hair, careful not to mess up his bow or smudge his makeup. He helps you out of your outfit, lips never straying too far as he sponges kisses onto each bit of skin he reveals.

You’re loving every second of this, but your body is begging for more.

“Please, Harry, I’m so empty. I need you.”

He can’t pretend like your words don’t drive him absolutely wild, and he rushes to slide off his bloomers, tights, and underwear. He sees you pout and says, “Lovie, I can’t fuck you with three layers of clothes covering my dick.” Even as aroused as he is, he can’t help but be endeared by the cute, disappointed look on your face.

You know he’s right and grudgingly reply, “Fine. But the dress stays on.”

“Of course the dress stays on,” he agrees before crashing his lips back to yours. Now free of his undergarments, he lines his cock up with your dripping entrance. You cry out in relief as he slides into you. Your eyes slam shut with the intensity of finally getting what you want, but once you realize what you’ve done you open them again. You don’t want to miss a moment of this.

Harry looks downright ethereal above you. He’s practically glowing and his muscled arms and chest peaking out beneath the dress are driving you wild. The skirt billows between you both with every thrust, tickling your belly in a new sensation that’s somehow adding to the pleasure.

He’s setting a fast pace, one that’s normal for you both, but tonight you want more. You want him to completely let go.

“Harder,” you say, sounding nearly breathless already.

Harry gives you a look before asking, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, please, go harder,” you say more firmly this time.

His mouth meets yours again in a searing kiss and he listens to you, pounding into you harder and faster that he ever has before. There’s a second where you wonder why you’ve been holding back all this time, but after a few thrusts you are no longer capable of such deep thinking. All you know is Harry, his mouth and tongue on yours, his cock slamming into you in a way that has your mind whiting out. He knows you’re close and goes to slide his fingers against your clit. For a moment he has trouble getting under his dress but finally hits his target.

It only takes another minute before you come so hard that you’re seeing stars. Your back arches and mouth opens in a silent scream. Harry presses kisses to your face, neck, chest, anywhere he can find as he continues to trust into you chasing his own end. You’re coming down from your high, riding out the aftershocks when Harry reaches his orgasm. You watch as his eyes, so delicate with his makeup, slam shut, and his pretty pick lips drop open. More pleasant shocks roll through your body as you feel him emptying inside of you.

You both catch your breath before Harry slides out of you. Even though he’s gentle you still hiss at the slight discomfort.

“I’m so sorry, did I go too hard?” he asks.

You smile and shake your head, saying “No, baby, that was perfect. You were perfect. Exactly what I wanted.” He smiles in reply, pressing a simple kiss to your forehead before he gets out of bed. He reaches a hand towards you and says, “Shower with me?” Even though you just want to fall asleep, you can’t say no to that invitation.

You follow him to the bathroom, and he turns the shower on before taking the clip out of his hair. He sees you pouting again and doesn’t need to ask what the problem is. “I can’t live in this dress forever,” he tells you with a laugh.

“I know. That’s probably a good thing. Don’t think we’d ever get anything done if you looked like this all the time. Can I help you take it off?”

“Of course, baby,” he replies.

After showering, you’re laying together in bed. Harry plugs his phone into the charger and sees that it’s after midnight.

“Happy Halloween lovie,” he says, and you wish him the same.

A few minutes later Harry’s snoring gently beside you and you realize that there’s another show the next night. You fall asleep praying he doesn’t wear another dress; you’re almost positive you wouldn’t survive if he did.

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Thank you for reading!

@akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @theekyliepage @numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry @ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess @houseofdilfs @shaquille-0atmeal-1 @kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye @n0vaj3an @snwells @drunk-teens-doing-drugs ; @fdl305

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles x you

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loversj0y · 10 months

Note

For your 200 follower event you should do Invisible String with Wil! Maybe inspired by him being on tour, and once you guys connect, you realize all the similarities/close calls you’ve had to each other?

invisible string

event masterlist

pairing: wilbur soot x gn! reader

tws: bars/references to drinking

notes: this might be tphe longest one bc it felt wrong making it Not long, i guess so i hope you enjoy :3

word count: 2.5k

taglist: @l0veb0mb1ng / @core-queen / @zooone / @lillylvjy / @melunnek

You hated heartbreak and the way it seemed to accompany you like an old friend. Several bad breakups led to the collective feeling of needing to leave, wanting to run, so you did. It wasn’t hard to find a university you could study abroad in and accommodations, especially with the proficiency in your courses meaning a scholarship wasn’t hard to find. Choosing a place to go was the hardest part; you knew you wanted to go to the UK, but you didn’t know where. Thankfully, there was a pretty simple solution: throwing a dart at a map. Leading you here: Brighton. The taxi drove you to your new apartment, and there was a rock song playing you’d wished to have gotten the name of before you got dropped off.

After a week of unpacking and settling in, you’d gotten notably bored. So you decided to look for a place to go, or something to do, and you stumbled across a pretty small club that seemed quite nice. You walked in, and at first it reminded you of the dive bars back in America, but a bit nicer. You went up to the bar and ordered quickly, trying to speak a bit quieter given the glaringly obvious American accent. It wasn’t enough to entirely hide it, though. Once you got your drink, a blond boy who’d been next to you at the bar spoke up, loudly.

“Are you American?”

You looked at him and nodded. He seemed a bit younger, but given that he was in here meant he was probably at least 18. “Yeah, I just moved here.”

He perked up, grinning, “Follow me!” He didn’t give you much a choice before grabbing your arm and dragging you over to his friends, “My name’s Tommy, by the way! My brother Wilbur loves America, so he’ll be excited to meet you, c’mon!”

You chuckled, allowing yourself to be dragged over by him. He brought you to a group of five people, two of whom were incredibly tall. All five of them were giving an incredulous look at Tommy, making you laugh a bit.

“Wilbur!” Tommy basically yelled as he pulled you over, “I found an American!”

You fought the urge to hide your face in your hands, instead taking a sip of your drink.

One of the taller guys, who you presumed was Wilbur, sputtered at Tommy, “Tommy! You can’t just drag someone over because they’re American, for fucks sake.”

“Yes, but you love America and you needed some cheering up, so ta-da!”

Wilbur just facepalmed, sighing and looking over at you now. He was an attractive guy, light brown curls and a tall frame, plus a good fashion sense if the Doc Martins were anything to go off of. “I am so sorry he abducted you. He is a child with no sense of manners.”

You chuckled softly, especially as Tommy gasped dramatically in response. “It’s alright,” you smiled softly, “Beats the alternative of sitting alone at the bar for an hour, so.” You shrugged.

Wilbur gave you a bit of a thoughtful look, but before he could speak up, the girl next to Tommy spoke.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, even if he literally just dragged you over. I’m Molly, Tommy’s girlfriend.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you smiled softly, before Tommy took charge once more.

“Yes, right! Introductions! I’m Tommy, obviously the coolest one here, Molly is my wonderful and only wife, Jack over there is an dick, don’t be friends with him, but that’s his girlfriend Ellie, she’s too cool for him. You spoke to Wilbur, my lame brother, already, and the only one taller than him is the very gorgeous Ranboo,” he explained.

Not a single person looked pleased with his explanation, but they also didn’t exactly look surprised by him.

“Right, well, nice to meet you guys. I’m Y/N.”

“So, you’re actually from America? Are you visiting?” Jack asked, a kind smile on his face.

“Yeah, uh, I just moved here actually. I just needed a change of pace, I guess, so I actually transferred to the university out here.”

He nodded, and you could feel the entire group’s eyes on you for a moment. It was a bit unsettling, but that was more just the nerves.

“Cool, fellow American,” the tallest one, Ranboo, spoke up. You looked up at him (he was really tall), and you smiled.

“Glad to know I’m not the only one out here. How’d you end up out here?”

“Uh… work, actually. It’s kind of a long story, but I had to move out here for my work stuff, so I did.” He shifted his eyes a bit as he spoke, and you just nodded, assuming he didn’t want to be pressed on the matter.

“Wilbur,” Tommy spoke, “tell them some cool America facts.”

“Tommy, they very likely know them better than me given that they actually lived there.” Wilbur chuckled softly.

I smiled softly at Wilbur, “I’d still like to hear them. Maybe I can tell you if you’re mistaken about any of them.”

He looked over and gave you a grin, and the conversations paired off. You and Wilbur discussed America and where you lived, and the fact that Americans need to stop building parking lots, which you agreed with.

After nearly an hour and a half, he disengaged, turning to Tommy, “I have to head out now, Toms. I’ll see you tomorrow though, yeah?”

Tommy nodded, then gave Wilbur a bit of an evil grin, turning to you, “Did Wilbur tell you he’s a big musician? He’s got to leave early because he’s got a gig tomorrow and has to do boring musician things.”

“Really?” You grinned softly, “That’s really fucking cool.”

“Yeah, well, Wilbur’s lame, but his band is cool. You should come to the gig!” Tommy exclaimed, and Wilbur’s cheeks dusted red, eyes widening at Tommy.

“I’d love to, but, only if it’s okay with you, I guess,” You looked up at Wilbur, raising your eyebrows.

He nodded a bit stiffly, “yeah, no, that’d be great. The more the merrier. I’ll see you both tomorrow then.” He waved, heading off quite quickly after.

“Is… he going to be mad at you for inviting me?” You chuckled, looking over at Tommy.

“Eh, he will be at first. I’ll probably wake up to an upset text, but it’s just because he gets nervous playing in front of people he wants to impress. Once he does fine after, he’ll text me all ‘Oh, Tommy, you’re so smart and right, thank you for inviting them since I was too much of a pussyhole to ask myself,’” he mocked Wilbur’s voice, and you laughed a bit. You blushed slightly at the implication that Wilbur wanted to impress you.

After a bit longer, the group dispersed, and you headed home. You actually ended up living pretty close to Tommy, who was about two blocks down from you. As you headed inside to your apartment, you smiled and got excited at the idea of going to the gig tomorrow and seeing Wilbur again. You fell asleep excited and wondering what type of music you’d hear from him and pleased with the people you’d happened to find.

You managed to get to the gig without too much trouble the next day, and you were shocked by the sheer amount of people waiting outside. Tommy had texted you about going to a back entrance, which thankfully wasn’t too hard to find. He was waiting by the door to help you in as well, and you felt immediately starstruck.

The place was pretty big, and Wilbur was already standing in the centre of the stage, practicing something on his guitar. The lights were hitting him perfectly, and he looked like an angel. You struggled to look away, until Tommy came up and basically draped himself against you.

“Stop simpin’ after Wilbur, c’monnnn, we’re heading backstage. He needs his little ‘rockstar-practice time’ or whatever.”

You flushed, turning away from Wilbur, “I’m not simping, I’m just in awe. This is really cool.”

“Yeah, yeah, well,” he walked further backstage with you following him, “you should’ve seen how long it took him to get used to it. Whole band did a bunch of fake shows to get used to performing.”

“Really? That’s smart, actually.”

Tommy just shrugged, taking you to room backstage where there was a much larger group of people than the night before. You recognized Molly and Jack, but the other three were complete strangers.

“Oh, Y/N, you came!” Molly grinned, waving. You waved back at her, nodding a bit.

“These lot are more of the band. They are much cooler than Wilbur, you’ll find. That’s Ash, Leandra, and Mark.”

You waved, saying a quick hello, before allowing yourself to become an observer of the conversation.

The show started not too long after, with you, Jack, Molly, and Tommy watching from the side stage. You quickly discovered that the band, Lovejoy, was incredibly popular, and their music was fantastic. And Wilbur.

Wilbur was something else on stage. He was fully in his element, lights covering him in halo glows. His voice was melodic, and it made you want to melt. From the side stage, you could see how he leaned against the mic, the passion in his voice, and the intensity he matched in each song. It was about halfway through the show though, that you felt you blood run cold.

The song you’d heard in the cab when you moved in. It was their song. And if that wasn’t just the biggest coincidence slapping you in the face than god knows what was. You didn’t know what to make of it, other than feeling incredibly overwhelmed by fate and the new friends you’d made.

By the end of the show, you felt strange. You felt incredibly uncertain about your place in the world most days, but for some reason, as you watched Wilbur approach you and the group, you felt like there was no where else you belonged.

“Hey,” he walked over with a grin, “You came! What did you think?”

He looked almost nervous as he asked, sweat still dripping from his forehead as you chuckled, “It was amazing! I actually recognized one as well!”

A startled look crossed his face for a moment, “You did? Which one?”

“The, ah, I didn’t catch the name of it originally, but I want to say it’s Call Me What You Like if the setlists are correct. It was playing in my cab when I was dropped off in Brighton.”

He grinned, “Really? It was on the radio?”

You nodded, “Yeah! I thought it was fantastic, but I didn’t have time to catch the name. At least now I don’t have to worry about forgetting it.”

“Oh, trust me, I wouldn’t let you,” he gave you a grin that shined brighter than any light on that stage, and you felt butterflies flood your stomach as you considered that maybe it was fate that brought you here.

Sometimes you didn’t consider the ways that time worked. In the span of one year, so much more had changed than you’d ever even considered. You moved to a new country, started a new school, made new friends. You cut your hair, changed your wardrobe, got a better music taste. You became much more social, started dating Wilbur, learned to feel more confident in yourself.

The relationship probably was the most shocking of anything to happen. But it happened quickly, and it felt so right and so easy, as if your previous heartbreaks never occurred. You still had problems, mind you, however, there was something within you telling you it was fate constantly.

You thought about fate a lot when you thought about your relationship. The random effect of the universe tended to have a weird way of making you think about stuff like that. The statistical chances of choosing to move to Brighton by throwing a dart at a map, of hearing Wilbur’s song play in your cab. Then there were the numerous things you’d learned over time, small coincidences that pointed to a string of fate tying you together. Of the color of his first album being the color of your first prom dress. Of the time he visited America and ended up staying twenty minutes from where you lived. Of your first boyfriend sharing Wilbur’s middle name. Of all these tiny clues of parallel moments within your lives that you could only see now in retrospect.

The biggest thing within this string was the connection you felt to him that first night. It felt like that little string pulled you straight into that bar. When all of a sudden, all the stress and feelings you’d had about heartbreak and needing to run felt soothed, all past mistakes feeling fuzzy in comparison to something that was so right.

“Darling,” Wilbur chuckled softly, “What are you thinking so hard about?” He smiled, walking over to where you were already laying down, ready for bed.

“Do you ever think about fate?” You asked as he gently pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Not often, I guess. Why?”

“I just think about us, and I just feel like there’s been a string connecting us, tying us together, and we just couldn’t see it.”

He smiled softly, slowly getting into bed next to you, “You think?”

“I don’t know for certain. But I know that there’s way too many coincidences to be normal. And that in one year, just by moving here… I don’t know it feels like I wasn’t living before being here, and even more now that I’m with you. I actually feel in charge of my life. Like time just changed everything for the better, and I have to at least believe that maybe it’s because fate brought us here.”

He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into him, “Yeah. I’ve never quite thought about it like that. I like that idea though. I mean, the chances of us actually meeting were so slim. As much as I don’t love the concept of fate, I’ll love fate for this. Because if fate is what brought me to you, then I owe it so much.”

You smiled lovingly at him, leaning forward to kiss him gently, “I owe it so much too. That- that little thread of gold tying us together.”

He held you a bit tighter, turning off the lamp next to him, “You think it’d be gold?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

He chuckled, “Why is that?”

“Because it’s your last name. And the leaves were gold when I moved here in the fall. What about you?”

“Hm,” he hummed, “Gold could be fitting. But I think it’d be some sort of blue or purple, like the sunset we watched on our first proper date.”

“That’d be nice,” you smiled softly, “I’m just glad it was there, if it is real.”

“Me too, love,” he whispered, before pulling you into a slow and gentle kiss.

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