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sometimesanalice · 1 year

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What’s In a Name?

Summary: Bradley really loves the way you say his name. At the grocery store. At the bar. In his bed.

Warnings: fuff, and so much smut. Minors DNI

Length: 9K

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

(This is a one-shot for my ‘Like I Can’ series. You don’t need to read it first, but you might want to. It’s pretty cute! You can check it out here!)

Bradley loved hearing you say his name.

He’d gone almost two years without hearing it. Back when he was ‘Rooster’ or ‘Bradshaw’ to you. Back when you weren’t sure how you would fit into the life he had built in San Diego when you had moved there for a promotion. Now he made it a priority to show you just how seamlessly your lives fit together, to remind you just how right you were for each other.

There were times when he still couldn’t believe that he was able to have you so entirely. You went from being just his closest childhood friend to being his everything. And now that he had you there was nothing he liked more than the sound of his name coming from your lips.

He loved hearing it every chance he could.

He’d never come so hard has he had the first time he’d heard you chanting his name over and over again as he’d fucked you in his bed. Your hair had been a riot on his pillow, your lips swollen from the attention he’d given them with his own. He’d just barely gotten you over the edge before he’d followed, so overwhelmed by your sweet voice so needy and breathy in his ear.

BradleyBradleyBradley

He had even changed his contact information in your phone from ‘Rooster’ to ‘Bradley’ one lazy Sunday afternoon when you had been dozing on his chest, adding a little sparkly heart next to it for good measure. In general, he wasn’t much of an emoji user, but he thought you might find it cute when you discovered it. He was very pleased with himself months later when he realized you’d never changed it back, pink sparkly heart and all.

He loved hearing you say his name at the grocery store.

He had gone off to find his favorite brand of protein powder, the store had recently rearranged their health food section and he could never remember where it was stocked. He didn’t want to drag you around on the scavenger hunt, especially when he knew you’d rather be doing anything else than grocery shopping.

Once he had it, he’d tried a few different aisles before finding you standing near the baking things and spices, he would have recognized your curves in those jeans anywhere.

You were chatting away with an elderly woman like you were a pair of old friends. It didn’t surprise him, since you’d always been the type that strangers had gravitated towards, your warm energy apparent to who crossed paths with you.

Walking up to you, he put the powder in the cart with the items you had accumulated while he had been wandering the same three aisles over and over again before he found what he was looking for near the bottom shelf.

“Bradley!” you greeted turning towards him beaming, your smile pure sunshine, before cheerily spinning back to the older woman, “See, I knew he’d find us eventually.”

“And he’s just as handsome as you said,” your new friend replied, giving him the once over.

“Yes, he is. Very handsome and very tall,” you told her with a teasing lilt in your tone, glancing back over your shoulder to send him a wink.

He’d happily be objectified by anyone you wanted, including elderly women wearing fuzzy purple sweaters, just as long as it meant you were bragging about him to them. That they knew he was yours, and you were his.

“How can me and my six-foot-two-inch self be of assistance to you ladies?” he asked, putting on his most winning smile. It couldn’t be said that he wouldn’t commit to a bit when the opportunity was presented.

“Can you reach Ruth a couple of those containers of Hungarian paprika, please?” you asked him while pointing to the red and green tins on the top shelf.

He was glad you had waited for him. They were so pushed back that there’s no way you would have been able to reach them on your own without climbing on the bottom shelf for a boost.

Safety first and all that, but also, he wouldn’t have wanted anyone to see the way your shirt would have ridden up your back. The dimples at the base of your spine were for his eyes only.

“Of course, I am at your service,” he pressed a quick kiss to your temple before stepping around the cart to grab the spice for the older woman.

“Oh, and then maybe one for us too, Bradley. I’ve never tried making Hungarian Goulash before. You’ve made it sound so good, that now I think I have to.”

“If you want to make it, mine is the number one reviewed recipe for the dish on AllRecipes,” Ruth boasted, there was no hiding the pride in her voice.

He hands Ruth the tins he had grabbed, and passes the other one to you to add to the collection in the shopping cart.

“But what I left out is that I always use this specific brand of paprika, and that I make mine with half pork and half beef. I save that tidbit for friends and family, I couldn’t just give all of my secrets away to the internet people.”

That had you laughing, “So sneaky, I love it! Thank you for sharing your secrets with us. Sounds like we know what we’re having for dinner tonight.”

You were already opening pulling the recipe up on your phone for later.

“I’m looking forward to it, especially since we know the tricks of the trade now.”

His eyes catch on the overflowing hand basket resting near the older woman’s worn Birkenstock mules. It looked heavy, almost like she didn’t originally plan on getting as many things as she ended up with.

“Can I carry that for you? Or if you have more shopping to do, I would be happy to go and get a cart for you,” he asks, gesturing to her overloaded basket.

“Oh no, those were the last things on my list,” Ruth replies, waving off his offer, “My youngest daughter is having her 50th birthday and the whole family is having a get together. I thought doubling my recipe would be fine, but I decided last minute to triple it.”

She bends down to reach for it, but he beats her to it. His mom raised him right.

“No, ma’am, I insist.” He’s pretty sure he catches you checking out his ass when he stands back up, “I’ll be right back, sweet girl. Stay out of trouble.”

He holds out his other arm for Ruth to take so he can escort her to the front of the store to pay.

“I don’t find trouble, it always seems to find me,” you joked.

“I believe that,” chimes Ruth.

He turns back to get a look at you, and sees you bringing your hand up to your forehead to mimic a full swoon.

He just smiles and shakes his head at you and your antics. Such a brat.

He helps Ruth at the check-out unloading the basket onto the conveyer belt, and then carries her packed grocery bags to her car getting them settled in her trunk.

Once they’ve parted ways, he heads back inside to find you.

You’re standing in front of the cooler with all the dips and fresh salsas, your head cocked to the side as you deliberate your choices.

What he also notices as he makes his way to you is that you’ve caught the attention of another man, one who should be paying more attention to his bagged lettuce instead of eyeing his girlfriend.

Sneaking up behind you, he wraps his arms around your middle lifting you up off the ground.

“Bradley! Oh my god, seriously?” He can’t help but laugh at how startled you are, he’s pretty sure if you were wearing pearls you’d be clutching them right now.

“Here I thought you were a gentleman, helping sweet Ruth with her groceries. It’s rude to sneak up on innocent and unsuspecting women,” you protest trying to twist out of his arms once he has set you back down.

“Ah, don’t be like that,” he settles his hands on your hips pulling you back to his chest, letting his fingers slide through your belt loops, before lowering his voice, “Unsuspecting, maybe. But innocent? There wasn’t anything innocent the blowjob you gave me in the Bronco outside the Hard Deck last night.”

He knows the shiver that goes through your body isn’t from the cold case you are both standing in front of.

Looking over to his left, he sees the man who was checking you out putting down the bag of spinach in his hands. And he is hit with a feeling of smug satisfaction watching as the guy quickly wheels his empty cart out of the section completely.

“No getting handsy by the hummus, Bradley,” you tut, still set on giving him the cold shoulder, but the way you lean back against him gives you away, “Should we get that lemon beet kind again?”

“Whatever you want, kid,” he murmured against your neck. “Plus, the word on the street is that you think I’m handsome, so that’s got to count for something.”

When you pull away from him this time, he lets you go. Getting a glimpse of the skin above the top of your jeans as you reach up to grab the square container of hummus.

You set it in the cart looking back at him as you toss your hair over your shoulder, before primly stating, “Oh, and Bradley, if you’re going to quote me I do believe I said you were very handsome.”

And with that final word, you push off with the cart meandering to towards the fruit section, the sensual sway of your hips he knows is just for him.

He especially loved the way your voice sounded when you’d just woken up, when his name was one of the first words out of your mouth to start a new day.

There was nothing Bradley liked better than the nights you spent together in the same bed. It didn’t matter if it was his place or yours, just as long as he was able to wake up to find you warm and tucked away under his arm.

“G’morning Bradley,” you’d whisper, voice soft and sleepy, a little raspy from disuse, as you turned to nestle closer burrowing your face in his neck. He knew you liked a gentle wake up, and he was more than happy to trail his fingers along your back until you woke up a bit more.

He was always up before you, his internal alarm clock permanently altered from his time in the Navy. For as much as you claimed to be a morning person, you were always the one snoozing yours in favor for spending a few more minutes in bed. It wasn’t something he’d ever expected to learn about you, and he liked being the one who got to share those intimately domestic moments with you.

The only surefire way to get you out of bed and moving on those mornings was the suggestion of hot coffee-- that or the promise of his mouth.

He loved the way you said his name when you were surprised.

When he’d gone to that furniture store you liked, his only plans were to find a new larger dresser for his bedroom. He had claimed he needed more space for his stuff, but really, he wanted there to be more room for you to keep your things at his place.

The home stylist at the store not only helped him pick out a new dresser he thought you’d approve of, but also convinced him to also purchase the matching king-sized canopy bed frame and set of nightstands.

He was told the mood was “cozy mid-century chic”, whatever that meant.

Bradley knows he runs hot, you’ve told him enough times that he’s like a furnace. So when the stylist showed him the cloudlike and breathable comforter along with the 800-thread count white cotton sheets, he had them add that to his collection too.

You still wouldn’t move in with him, but he was working on it. He knew he’d reel you in soon enough. And if it took a payment plan, so be it.

Although, he could only blame himself for the new lamps and giant rug he also purchased. He’d gotten a little swept up in the salesperson’s enthusiasm.

Hopefully that guy got commission, he deserved every dollar.

It had hurt a bit when he swiped his credit card, but it was worth it to hear the way you said his name when you saw it all for the first time after it had been delivered and assembled.

“Oh my god, Bradley!” you laughed, “I thought you said you were just getting a new dresser. Did you buy the whole store?”

“What can I say? The salesperson was very good at his job, sweet girl,” he was trying to not let his leg bounce as he waited for you to say more. A little nervous now that he’d gone overboard and missed the mark, “Do you like it?”

“It’s absolutely perfect, Bradley,” you gushed as you slowly made your way around the room taking it all in. “It’s warm, it’s classic, it’s cozy. It feels like you. You’re going to have a hard time getting me to leave now, I love it in here.”

That was all he wanted.

He felt all the tension leave his body, grinning as he watched you sit down on the bed running your hand over the soft deep green duvet. It had become his favorite color the second he’d seen you in that green dress the night at the seaside restaurant when he’d told you how he felt about you.

“So, do you want to help me break it in?” he asked, pushing off from where he had been leaning against the doorframe and sauntered towards you.

The way you slowly reclined back on the bed, your lips turned up in a mischievous smile was an answer in itself.

He loved the sound of you saying his name at the Hard Deck.

Your voice was so familiar to him that he could pick it out anywhere. He was so attuned to the way you said his name that he could be in a conversation with someone in the noisy bar, but his ears would perk up if you said his name in a passing comment.

It was like he was hearing his friends talk with one ear, while the other was always listening for you.

He could be with Mav catching up and chatting about the new plane he was working on, until:

“Yeah, I could use another one, let me see if Bradley needs one really quick and then I’ll go up with you.”

And then he would find himself standing next to you at the bar.

He could be playing around of nine-ball with Hangman, until:

“No, you’re kidding me! There’s no way you caught Coyote doing that, has Bradley heard this one before? Oh my god, you have to tell him.”

And then he would find himself abandoning his cue on the pool table.

“What the fuck, Bradshaw? You can’t just quit because I’m kicking your ass,” Jake would shout at him as he made his way towards you.

After all, you’d said his name and now he was curious.

He could be at the jukebox trying to find something better to put on than whatever terrible song Fanboy had picked, until:

“Oh! Bradley knows how to play that one, let’s see if we can bribe him to go perform it. I doubt we’ll have to try very hard, he’s such a little show off.”

And then he would find himself seated at the piano.

To everyone else he was ‘Rooster’, ‘Bradshaw’, ‘Lieutenant’, and soon to be ‘Lieutenant Commander’.

To you he was Bradley.

Seeing Bradley seated at the piano was a normal sight for you.

Since being permanently stationed in San Diego, he’d had all of the things from his storage locker shipped over, including his Dad’s old upright. He liked to play in the evening to decompress after his day and you liked to watch.

There was something about the way his large fingers moved over the keys so gracefully that was always so mesmerizing to you.

You still remembered how embarrassed he would get all those times when your moms would beg him to put on an impromptu piano recital. Usually fueled by a couple too many glasses of Cabernet Sauvignon, you realized later on.

Your mom and Carole had definitely been the “Wine Moms” at the baseball and tennis games they’d sat through in support of you and Bradley.

He would get a little sulky in the way that all self-conscious teens got, but he could never hold out for very long before pulling out the wooden piano bench. Bradley wasn’t one to purposefully disappoint his mom, their relationship special in the way that only a single parent and an only child could understand.

Once he realized it was a good way to get noticed by the girls in high school, he’d been quick to change his tune. And now it was clear he reveled the attention it got him when he sat down and started tapping out a carefree riff before launching into a song, all preening posturing and smug smiles.

You were usually right next to Bradley when he put on a show, an arm wrapped around his shoulder, always one to want a front row seat to see him in action.

Tonight the bar was a bit more packed than usual. It took a little longer to move around, and a little longer for Penny to make your drink since you had opted for something slightly more complicated than a beer.

Slowly, but surely, you wove your way through the crowd. Careful to avoid any stray elbows to avoid jostling your full drink as you made your way back to your friends where they were gathered around the ancient upright. You were nearly there when a burly man stepped around you, giving you a clear view of Bradley playing.

And you were stopped short by the picture in front of you.

The performance he was currently putting on at the Hard Deck was different than anything he did at his own home. His leg bouncing in tempo as he shimmied perched on the piano bench, like it’s a struggle for him to be contained to one spot.

He was captivating in the way that he commanded the room.

Maybe it was the way the way the muscles of his forearms were flexing as his fingers were precisely flying over the discolored keys.

Maybe it was the way the light sheen of sweat was collecting in the hollow of his collarbone.

Or maybe it was the way the veins were standing out against his neck, the way the thick tendon that ran along his throat had you transfixed as he threw his head back to sing at the top of his lungs.

His sunglasses were sliding down his nose as his head bobbed between glancing down at his hands and scanning the room. He smiled when his eyes found yours over the top of his aviators. Your hand tightened around the glass in your hand, the condensation dripping down your wrist as you stood there and watched.

You weren’t sure if it was your imagination or the tequila you’d been sipping on all night, but it seemed like he was working the keys of the piano a little harder, a little faster as he held your gaze.

And then his tongue was slipping out. Just a bit, and just for you.

Thankfully no one could hear the way your breath hitched in your throat over the sound of everyone in the bar singing along. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so turned on.

The intensity of Bradley’s heated gaze, the way his body was moving, the way you wanted to crawl in his lap and lick the taut line of his neck and taste the salt of his skin right there in front of everyone.

You probably looked as desperate as you were feeling, because his easygoing smile turned more knowing every second your eyes stayed locked.

“I’ll be right back,” you said to no one in particular as you abandoned your spicy margarita on the nearest surface to make your escape.

You felt like you were about to vibrate out of your skin.

It was easier to slipping away to the bathroom than had been trying to reach Bradley in front of the stage, needing a moment to yourself out of his heady orbit.

Locking the door behind you, you lean against the worn wood that was littered with stickers that had been collected and brought back from around the world. You try breathing in and out a few times, the way you’ve learned to do at your expensive yoga classes, in an attempt to slow down the rapid pounding in your chest. Actively trying to not think about the way he looked at you.

There was no question in your mind that you suffered from an incurable Bradley kink. Now that you could let yourself revel in all sorts of unfriendly thoughts about him, everything he did was a turn on for you.

You had a sneaking suspicion that he might have one too. His eyes always a got a bit more heated, and his hands would grip you a little tighter when you said it.

You knew that if you were to slip your fingers past the waistband of the dainty lace underwear you had just bought that you would find yourself wet.

And for a moment, you’re tempted to do just that. To let your fingers skim up your thigh, along the scalloped edge of the panties you’d bought specifically with Bradley in mind, to think of him as you slide your fingers inside of yourself.

You’re feeling so high-strung that you know it wouldn’t take long to come. It wouldn’t be the first time you would have used the bathroom at the Hard Deck to get off.

Your hand is halfway under your sundress, when you hear the chanting:

Roo-ster! Roo-ster! Roo-ster!

In your mind’s eye, you can picture him standing behind the piano doing his version of a touchdown dance.

You’ve teased him about it before, calling him a “slutty little songbird”, which he didn’t deny. He thrives off the attention, and you can’t say you mind watching him do that sexy little shimmy he is so fond of.

You also don’t mind helping him find other ways to work off the post-performance high.

Knowing that he will probably be looking for you now that he’s done, you smooth down the skirt of your dress with shaky hands and make your way to the sink.

Standing in front of the dingy mirror, you can see just how much a wreck your appearance actually is. Your cheeks look warm, your lips are slightly swollen from Penny’s special spicy margarita mix, and your eyes have that certain wild gleam in them that only Bradley brings out in you.

You turn the cold tap on, and stick your wrists under the running water. Hoping the cool water on your pulse points will help ease the heat that is spreading under your skin.

While the chanting has stopped now, you can still hear the lively sounds of the packed bar. Figuring it’s alright to leave the safe confines of the tiny bathroom, you turn off the water and dry your hands, determined to not let anyone see just how riled up you were.

You’re barely five steps outside of the bathroom, when a strong arm wraps around your waist.

“Hey, kid.”

And just like that your heart is racing out of control again. His woodsy smell paired with the faint hit of sweat has your brain going fuzzy.

“You doin’ ok?” he rasps against the shell of your ear. He has you pulled against his warm, broad chest and you can feel the echoes of his question reverberate throughout your whole body.

You pull out of his grasp to turn and face him, taking a small step backwards towards the wall.

“Uh-huh, yeah. Everything is fine,” you ramble, nodding your head as you try to avoid looking in his honey brown eyes.

“You sure about that?” he asks taking a step towards you, which has you retreating another one back. “Thought I should check on you since you disappeared there for a bit.”

“Just you know,” you trail off briefly glancing at him and gesturing pathetically towards the bathroom like that explains your clearly unusual behavior.

“Mm-hmm, sure,” he allows, his head tilting to the side as he observes you.

You know the exact moment when he realizes what’s going on by the way his cheek twitches as he tries to control the wolfish smile he is fighting back. And you’re suddenly feeling very much like his prey when he presses forward again. This time when you step back you feel the wall against your back as he crowds into your space.

“We should probably go back,” you stutter out when he cages you in with one hand above your head.

“Maybe,” he muses, tracing his thumb along your lower lip, “You sure you don’t want to tell me what’s got you so ruffled?”

The way he is looking at you, the way he feels against you, it’s all too much.

“Bradley.”

You don’t know what you were trying to sound like when you said his name, but there’s no missing the neediness in your voice.

“Yeah, I thought so,” he murmurs, his voice rough and low. He takes your hand in his, guiding you to his zipper, letting you feel him through his jeans. “You got me all worked up too, sweet girl.”

The sound you make is lands somewhere between a wheeze and a whimper.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before he has you leading the way up to the bar, using your body to hide his hard on as he pays. Not even bothering to wave goodbye to your group of friends as he hustles you to the Bronco.

He definitely broke the speed limit and a couple minor traffic laws on the drive back trying to get you home to his place.

You had looked so flushed when he had been pounding away at the keys of the upright at the Hard Deck, and you had dashed away abandoning your freshly made drink. He might have sped up the tempo to wrap it up faster so that he could check on you, worried for a moment that you might have caught a bug or food poisoning or something.

That was until he caught you outside of the bathroom, and saw just how flustered you’d been and he knew.

It took everything in him not to push you back into the tiny bathroom and have his way with you right then and there. He was hit with an image bending you over the sink, and showing you just how good you looked coming around his cock.

However, a hot and dirty quickie at the Hard Deck wouldn’t have been enough for him.

He knew exactly how he wanted you: flustered, flushed, and thoroughly fucked.

So yeah, he floored the gas pedal needing to feel your body under his as soon as possible. And it didn’t hurt that it probably cleared out some of the engine build up in the Bronco along the way either.

He pressed you against the door the second you’d gotten inside, letting you rock your hips against his thigh as he sucked along the curve of your collarbone. Your hands coming up to tug at the curls at the top of his head.

“U-upstairs,” you gasp when he grazes his teeth along the swell of your breast.

You didn’t need to tell him twice.

He lifts you up, and your legs wrap around him immediately. It had taken all of his will power not to slip his hands up your frilly dress at the Hard Deck. He loved any chance to he got to get his hands on your ass.

He almost misses the first step going up the stairs when you drag your hot mouth along his neck.

“Wait, wait,” you pant in his ear, “Put me down.”

“It’s fine, I got you,” he promises as he tightens his grip on you.

You pull away and shake your head at him, “I don’t want either of us to end up in the Emergency Room for a sex related accident. Could you imagine? Jake would never let us live it down, and Nat would be worse.”

“It’d be worth it though,” he winks at you.

“You say that now, until you’re stuck in a neck brace unable to fly or have sex,” you admonish jokingly, stroking the side of his throat with the scars he earned from that night at Jason Cameron’s homecoming party.

“Yeah, but you could still ride me. The way I see it, it’s a win-win either way,” he chuckles at the exasperated way you roll your eyes.

“You’re handsome, but I don’t think even you could pull off the color of those hospital gowns,” you quip with a quick peck to his lips, “Now, hands off the goods.”

Giving your ass one more squeeze, he lets you slide down his body. He may not have his hands on you anymore, but it doesn’t stop him from admiring your figure as you bound up the stairs in front of him.

He stops short at the threshold of his bedroom at the sight of you pulling your dress over your head. Of all your soft skin on display for him.

There were times he still couldn’t believe he got to have you like this.

How did he think it could have ever just been a friendship with you?

He liked how comfortable you were in this space with him, liked how perfectly your things fit in with his.

He liked knowing that one of the pillows on the bed smelled like you.

He liked knowing that if he went in the bathroom he would find your expensive shampoo and conditioner in there next to his.

He liked knowing that if he opened the drawer on one of the nightstands that he would find your lip balm, your lavender lotion, a vibrator from your place that had found a home here, and a notebook and pen in case you needed to remember to do something because you didn’t like having your phone in bed.

What he currently liked most about his bedroom was the way your dress was decorating the floor, and the way you were kneeling on his bed like a vision.

You were wearing a matching pale pink lace set he’d never seen before. Your skin was peeking through the floral embroidery of the sheer mesh in an all too enticing way.

You were his sweet girl.

“Come here,” you beckon, inching closer to the edge of the wooden canopy bed.

He’s not one to deny you, he’d willingly go wherever you wanted. He saunters in towards you slowly, putting on a bit of a show for you as he comes to stand before you.

“I like this, it’s pretty,” he hums as he runs his knuckles slowly over the edge of the embroidered cups, enjoying the way you lean further into him.

Cupping your jaw, he pulls you forward for a lingering kiss. Being this close to you, the smell of your musky floral perfume is intensifying thumping of his pulse.

Your hands slide under his Hawaiian print shirt, helping to ease it off his body and then tossing it somewhere near your dress. You ruck the tank he has underneath up his chest and he reaches down to pull it over his head as your hands run over the ridges of his abs.

His body has been humming for yours since the bar. The hurried encounter at the door barely managed to take any of the edge off, and he was still just as starved for you as he had been when he saw you holding that drink looking at him like he was something to be devoured.

His left hand moves from where it’s been settled on the flare of your hip and up your back to the clasp of your pretty bra.

He’s been letting you take the lead, but you’re not nearly naked enough for him.

“Hands to yourself,” you mutter as you work to get his belt undone, “I’m trying to get you naked you here.”

Part of him wants to take his time with you, to take you apart slowly and see what new sounds he can uncover. The other part of him wants to have you holding onto that rich espresso colored headboard while he shows you just how much he appreciates you wearing this little set just for him.

“You like my hands,” he murmurs against your neck. He is quick to unhook the clasp of your bra with one hand, easing it down your arms and flinging it behind him.

Yet another offering to his bedroom floor.

And then he is trailing his fingers down your soft stomach, dipping them under the band of your matching panties.

He groans when he discovers you’re already wet for him. He finds your clit, and teases you there making gentle figure-eights with his finger, “Got yourself so worked up you couldn’t even stick around for the end of the damn song, huh?”

You’re quick to abandon your crusade against his favorite pair of jeans, leaving him unbuckled and half unzipped, as you circle your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you.

“God, your fingers feel so much better than mine,” you sigh against his mouth as he licks his lips before bringing them back to yours.

Your full lips soften under his demanding ones, the sensual slide of your lips against his has him desperate for more.

He slips his tongue in your mouth taking advantage of your gasp as his circles against you turn from teasing to purposeful. The kiss turning messy with need. With want.

“I know another part of my body that you like just as much,” he murmurs, as he palms your ass.

Your hand starts moving down his chest, down his stomach.

“Nuh-uh,” he tsks, catching your tricky hand before it has a chance to reach his cock, bringing it back up to rest on his shoulder.

“I want to touch you,” you whisper against the spot below his ear that you know drives him wild.

“I’m getting you off right now,” he says firmly as he speeds up his motions against your clit.

It doesn’t take long before he has you panting against his mouth, your hips rocking against his fingers.

“That’s it,” he coaxes, “Let me give you what you want.”

He knows from the sweet whimpers you’re making that you’re close, he breaks away from your kiss to hold your half-lidded gaze as you come for him.

He will never get tired of watching you fall apart.

He will never get tired of seeing you satisfied and spread across his bed.

Giving you a moment to catch your breath, he shucks off his jeans and his briefs, releasing a small groan as his cock springs free. He’s been hard for you since he cornered you by the bathroom at the bar. Sending you a lazy-half smile at the way your eyes take him in standing there above you as he slowly pumps himself.

He knows he looks good, it’s literally his job to keep his body in peak condition.

But you make him feel good.

No one knows him better than you, makes him laugh harder than you, makes him feel as important as you do. Your appreciative gaze of his body is just another bonus to the many ways you make him feel good about himself.

He climbs on the bed, settling between the cradle of your open thighs.

“You gonna tell me what got you so keyed up, sweet girl?” he asks in-between scattering kisses across your cheeks.

“That’s classified,” you retort breathlessly as you wrap your legs around him.

“Is it now?” he grinned, kissing along the delicate line of your jaw. He’ll let you keep your secret for now, he had other more pressing questions he wanted answers to, “Did you touch yourself when you ran off to the bathroom?”

“No,” you whine, as he pulls your nipple into his mouth, laving it with his tongue.

“Did you think about it? Think about me?”

He wanted to know. He needed to know that he drove you just as crazy as you did him.

“Yes,” you gasped out in confession when he moves to your other breast, giving it the same attention, “I’m always thinking about you.”

Good.

“Already know how you feel about my fingers,” he rasps as he kisses down your stomach, making sure to place one on the little tattoo near your hipbone. “Should I let you have my mouth too, sweet girl?”

“Yes,” you breathe working your hands into the curls at the top of his head, “Please.”

“Yeah, I think so too,” he agrees mouthing at the last little bit of lace still on your body.

He pulls off your pretty pink panties and throws them somewhere behind him, probably landing on that overpriced dresser he bought for you.

He loved that he was the one who got to see you like this. Your hair was a mess from his hands, you pupils were blown wide, and your flushed chest rising and falling with rapid shallow breaths.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he says reverently before licking a firm stripe parting you open.

It’s not long before his mouth is meticulously working between your thighs, his tongue gliding over your clit, one of your legs thrown over his shoulder.

He’s sliding his finger into you and then another, making room in your body, determined to pull a second orgasm from you.

You’re so wet for him, so soft for him, so sweet for him.

He knows what you like. He’s studied your body just as thoroughly he did the aircraft manuals he was given, if not more so.

“More,” you moan, your hips rolling from the stimulation, “I need more.”

Pulling away from you with one more broad lick of his tongue, he leans his head against the thigh that’s thrown over his shoulder, watching your face as he pushes another finger into you. The way you’re pressing your heel into the muscles of his back has him fighting the urge to grind himself into the bed.

“You look so good like this,” he praises, taking in the way you writhe against the three fingers he has buried deep in you, as he squeezes you hip with his other hand.

He’s seen a lot of unforgettable sights from the cockpit of his plane, but nothing will ever compete with the way you look as you chase your release. Your eyes fighting to say open as you watch him watching you.

“Oh my god,” you exhale when he hits that spot inside of you, your leg starting to tremble with the need, “Please, I’m so close.”

Using his fingers and mouth in tandem, he works you with same pressure, the same pace. He feels you clenching around his fingers a few moments later, your back arching in pleasure as you fly apart for him.

Teasing his lips and mustache along the sensitive skin at the crease of your thigh, as you come down from your high, before kissing his way back up your body. Your greedy hands reaching out for him, pulling him to your mouth. He feeds you his tongue, letting you taste yourself on him.

The way you’re whimpering beneath him is making him feel out of control.

“I want you inside me.”

Wrapping his large hand around his cock, he drags it through your folds few times before he finally lines himself up at your center.

And then he’s finally pushing into you, savoring the way you cling to him as he gives you a moment to adjust to his size.

“Rooster,” you say with a sigh against his lips.

He starts to move when your hips start to shift seeking more friction. And then he’s rocking into you with the smooth, deep strokes that never fail to make your toes curl. Once, twice, three times.

“What’d you say?” he asks, as he slows the pace down.

Your hands are in his hair, and you tug on the strands when he pulls away to look at you. Your lips are swollen, but he knows that look in your eye. He can already can guess what you’re going to respond with before your lips have even formed the word.

“R-ooster.”

The word comes out a stutter, as he roughly thrusts into you again.

He doesn’t know why he’s bothered asking, he should have known that you were going to make him work for the one thing he wants to hear.

“Say my name.”

He was so gone for you, he wants you riled up and feeling the same way as him. He wants his neighbors to hear you saying his name. Wants them to know that he’s the one making you feel so good.

“Lieutenant,” you taunt, not bother trying to hide the self-satisfied on your face.

If he wasn’t going to get what he wanted then neither were you.

He pulls out of you completely, flipping you over on the forest green duvet. His hand coming down on your ass, a quick sharp slap.

The sting of it has you gasping into your forearms pillowed underneath your head, and your cunt fluttering around nothing.

Leaning forward, he kisses down the length of your spine admiring the way the goosebumps pebble on your skin now.

“Say my name,” he coaxes again.

He tugs your hips up and licks deeply into you once before pulling away. Watching smugly on his knees at the way your hips tilt up after him, your legs spreading further apart as you offer more of yourself to him.

“Bradshaw,” you counter.

Closer, but still not what he wants to hear.

His open hand connects on the other side of your perfect ass, earning him a sweet moan from you.

Grasping his cock to slide it through your wetness, he stops just short of where he knows you want to feel it the most.

He wants you dazed. He wants you desperate for him.

You’ve always been the type to take a mile when you’re given an inch. And he intends to only let you have exactly eight inches tonight.

“You want this cock?” he rasps.

He knows he’s got you where he wants you when you don’t reply with another bratty remark, only desperately nodding ‘yes’ into the mattress.

“Look at me,” he demands.

You’re slow to lift your head up to look back at him, your eyes are a little glazed over as you take him in. You look as wrecked as he feels. He can only imagine what he looks like through your eyes. He can feel the sweat collecting at his temples, can feel the flush that’s working its way down his neck to his chest.

“You know what I wanna hear, kid.”

That makes you whine.

“Oh, you wanna be my sweet girl now, huh?” he asks, squeezing your hips.

He wants to taste that lower lip, the one that’s pouting prettily at him as you nod for him again. Even now as you writhe against him you’re still trying to get your own way, still trying to get him to break first.

“Well, you know what to do,” he feels like barely hanging on now, “Say. My. Name.”

He punctuates each word with the rock of his hips, his cock just grazing your clit. Enough to keep you on edge, but not enough to give you the stimulation that you want.

“Bradley!” you cry out.

He’s inside of you before you’ve even gotten the second syllable out.

Groaning your name, he throws his head back at the sensation of finally being surrounded by you again.

“Good girl. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he tries to ask teasingly, but it comes out more a rumble than anything else. “My sweet girl.”

Your pussy squeezes him harder at the praise as you roll your hips up more to better accept his body in yours. He loved the view he had, loved seeing how wet you were for him, loved seeing just how well he filled you, loved seeing you stretched around him.

He leaned forward a bit, brushing back your hair off your face to see you better. The change in angle making you gasp as you fisted the material beneath you.

“Say it again,” he prompts, smoothing a hand down your back, “I wanna hear you say it again.”

His name.

The only thing he wanted running through your mind.

His name.

The only thing he wants coming from your mouth, other than the sweet whimpers and moans he is pulling from you.

“Bradley,” you indulge, his name sounding something between a plead and a purr.

Without disrupting the pace he’s set, he nudges your knees further apart. Wrapping an arm around your middle to pull you up against his chest, needing to be closer to you.

“Go on, let them hear who is making you feel this good,” he grunts roughly in your ear.

“Brad-ley,” the staccato of his name punctuated by his steady thrusts against you. Your hand digging into his hip.

Interlocking his fingers with yours, he lifts your arm to hook it around the back of his neck, holding you to him there. Turning your head, you greedily mouth at the column of his throat, frenzied and wet.

You were it for him, there was no question about it. And he would happily prove to you in all the ways he could think of that he was it for you too. There’s nothing he wants more than to make you feel good. To please you. To give you the best you’ve ever had.

His other hand slides up from where he had been squeezing your waist to get his hand on your breast. He loves how perfectly you fit in his hand.

He meets you for a kiss, sloppy and perfect, messy and deep.

He can’t control the sounds of satisfaction escaping him as you move together, feeding off of your sighs and moans. Your hands are grabbing onto whatever part of him is in reach: his hair, his thigh, his arm.

Enjoying the drag of his cock as he moves in you, he lets himself get lost in the sensation of being connected with you like this. The room filled with the sounds of labored breathing, of your bodies coming together, of you saying his name over and over again.

You’re starting to tremble in his arms, he’s pretty sure your legs would have given out by now if it were for the way he was holding you against him. Your nails biting into the back of his neck, as he slowly drags a hand down your body to where you’re connected.

“I love this,” you murmur into the base of this throat.

He doesn’t know if you realized you said it out loud, doesn’t know if you meant to say it out loud, but he loves hearing it all the same.

“God, you feel so good,” he can feel the sensation building at the base of his spine, “You’re perfect. So fucking perfect.”

The way his circles his fingers against your clit has you gasping into his waiting mouth.

“Bradley, please.”

He’d give you anything. He’d give you everything.

“C’mon then,” he insisted hoarsely, pressing his forehead against the side of your temple, “Say it for me one more time, sweet girl.”

He speeds up his fingers, set on ending you. Working your body with the precision that he handles his sixty-five million dollar aircraft. Determined to give you what you’re so sweetly asking for.

And it’s his name you gasp as you come undone.

Your is head thrown back against his shoulder as you spasm around his cock, your hips rolling as you are lost to the pleasure of your orgasm. He kisses your neck and lightens the pressure of his fingers on your clit, wanting to extend it out for you as much as possible, enjoying the tiny pulsing aftershocks he is drawing from you.

It’s only when he feels you go boneless that he starts to lose his own composure. His breathing going completely ragged and hips snapping erratically against you as he chases his own climax.

A few more powerful strokes later he follows you coming hard with a groan, burying his face in your neck as he spills in you.

Somehow, he manages to get you both sprawled out horizontal on the bed without him completely crushing you.

“Holy shit,” he curses flinging an arm over his eyes, his other reaching out to touch whatever part of you he can find. There’s nothing but the sound of the blood rushing in his ears as he tries to catch his breath.

Time gets away from him as he runs his hand up and down your back. It could have been a few minutes or an hour when he feels the bed move, and you slipping out of his grasp as you get up to use the bathroom.

“No, stay,” he attempts to pull you back to him, feeling the need to have you close again as he tries to settle back into his body. You’re seemingly recovering much quicker than he is at the moment.

“I won’t even be gone two minutes, you can time me.” He can hear the soft affection in your voice.

“Don’t think I won’t,” he grouses halfheartedly lifting up the arm with his watch on. He manages to raise his head up in time to get a glimpse of your naked figure as you close the door behind you.

True to your word, you are back one minute and forty-seven seconds later. He opens his arms to you as you climb back on his bed and drape yourself half over him.

Much better.

He feels you shift yourself up a few moments later to press a kiss to the scar on his shoulder.

“I just want to try something,” you murmur before making your way along the bend of his collarbone.

Up the side of his neck.

He feels his pulse start to kick up again as you work your way up the line of his jaw. He tilts his head away to give you more access to his skin there, basking in the feel of your lips on his body.

“Bradley,” you whisper lightly against the shell of his ear.

The guttural groan that rips through him surprises him. He feels his cock twitch against his thigh, a visceral reaction to you.

And then you’re giggling.

“I knew it,” you get out between fits of laughter, “You’ve got a name kink.”

Your face pure joy at your discovery. He’ll happily let you tease him for the rest of his life as long as you keep looking at him like that.

“Nah, I got a you kink,” he says as he hauls you on top of him.

“I’m already planning on letting you have your way with me again tonight, Bradley,” you proudly declare, propping yourself up on his chest, smiling down at him. “You don’t have to try so hard, I’m a sure thing.”

If he wasn’t already gone for you, the cheeky wink you sent him would have sealed the deal.

He feels himself already starting to get hard again, one of the perks of being a part of the 1%.

“Sweet girl, you’re gonna be the end of me,” he chuckles, running his hands up your back, “And I remember someone once telling me that they give as good as they get, so I won’t be dialing it in anytime soon.”

And then he is pulling you down for a kiss.

Later that night when you’re riding him so good, you get him chanting your name.

Over, and over, and over again.

A couple hours later, he watches you slip away into slumber, satisfied and spent beneath the fluffy comforter on the bed.

His bed. Your bed. Their bed.

It was just as much yours as it was his, regardless of whether you were officially living together yet or not. He bought it for you, after all.

Even on the occasional nights you spent apart, you were still everywhere.

He liked the plants you had picked to fill out the empty spaces in the room. He liked that the right side of the bed was your side of the bed. That those were your books on the nightstand, the bookmarks peeking out waiting for you to pick up where you left off.

There was a trinket tray for your jewelry on top of the dresser right next to the to the leather watch display box that you had gotten him for his birthday. And the drawers of that well-made, but overpriced wooden dresser were filling up with more and more of your things, just like he had hoped for when he got it.

He smiled to himself as he gently stroked your hair. The last time he was at your place, he had accidentally seen the letter from your apartment’s leasing office confirming your decision to not renew your rental agreement and your move out date. He hadn’t told you he knew, he’d rather hear it from you anyways.

You would always be worth the wait.

The packages that were delivered to the door?

His, for now, until you moved in a couple months from now.

The name signed on the lease for the condo?

His, for now, until you were ready to ink yours down on a deed for a new home with him.

The little velvet box tucked away in the back corner of his nightstand?

His, for now, but always meant to be yours.

You can thank @mak-32 and her photo set of Rooster at the piano for this fic!

Also, many many thanks to @gretagerwigsmuse for being my go-to gal! I wouldn’t have been brave enough to post the smut if she hadn’t given me the all-caps go ahead!

Here’s Bradley’s bedroom, if you’re curious!

You can check my other fics out here!

Taglist:

@sehnsuchts-trunken @top-hhun-main @itscheybaby @prettylittlelauraa @startrekfangirl2233 @marantha @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @itsizzythebell @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @boltgirl426 @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @torres-espana @uzumegui @dont-talk-me-down @fandomunite2107 @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pariahsparadise @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @nina-sj @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @misty-inferno @angellwingsss @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @mrsdaamneron @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @melllinaa @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @mandolin22 @imaginecrushes @soleilgrec @keyrani @finelytaylored @phantomxoxo @viridianphtalo @chicomonks @starryeyedstories

#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #rooster x reader #rooster x female reader #bradley bradshaw fic

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fxrmuladaydreams · 4 months

Text

sober realizations (cs55)

carlos x mclaren social media!reader

summary: carlos realizes just what he’s lost and it destroys him

notes: this is the final part to this little series, there will be no more after this

prev part

Carlos could feel the guilt eating away at him, everyday the feeling growing stronger. He can’t help it, not when you look up at him and make his heart do somersaults in his chest with something as simple as your smile.

He enjoys having you near him, close to him, more than he thought he would. He likes feeling you pressed up against him when you sleep, he likes being able to hold you in his arms.

He almost stops breathing when you ask him to make your relationship public. Of course he wants to be able to show you off, to be able to call you his love in front of other people, but he knows that sooner or later the bet will come back to bite him in the ass.

He can feel the disappointment radiating off of you when he tells you that he wants to keep your relationship private. His heart breaks at the frown that rest on your face.

“I want to kiss you in the paddock.” Your words are soft, as if saying them too loud will break an unspoken rule. “I want to be able to kiss you in front of other people, maybe then Lando will stop with the teasing.”

“You want to kiss me in front of Lando?” Carlos tries to lighten the mood, to bring back your smile, and he feels relief when you laugh.

“No, I just want to be able to kiss you whenever I want to. Whether that be in front of Lando or not.”

He wants that too, but he knows kissing in front of Lando will eventually turn into kissing in front of Pierre and Lance.

“I don’t know mi amor.” He sighs. “I don’t want anyone else to ruin what we have.”

He feels bad when you sigh and lean your head back down against his chest, defeated.

He thinks over it in his head. Maybe, maybe it would be okay if you went public. He’d have to talk with Pierre and Lance, make sure that they knew he wanted nothing to do with their bet anymore first, but maybe everything would work out.

He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, pulling you tighter against his chest. “If you really want to, we can go public.” He says softly.

You quickly lift your head up to look at him, and Carlos thinks the smile on your face is absolutely worth the risk.

Later that night he texts the two boys, making sure they know not to say anything.

To Pierre and Lance

The bet is off. Y/n and I are dating, and I really like her. She can’t find out about it.

They both reply, agreeing to forget the bet even happened.

Everything was going well, the rest of the grid supported their relationship, well Lando was a bit dramatic about it but you could tell he was happy for the couple. Of course there were some not so nice comments from fans on social media, but Carlos had made sure to praise you publicly any chance he had.

Though the two of you were happy as could be, Carlos still couldn’t get rid of the little nagging voice in the back of his head, reminding him of what he’d done to get to this point. It seemed like everyday he was looking at his phone, making sure he, nor Pierre or Lance, had said anything to anyone that might reveal what had happened.

He tried to brush it off whenever you asked him about it, shoving his phone in his pocket and instead just enjoying holding you in his arms.

As time went on the little voice in his head quieted down, to the point where he only thought about the bet once a day.

But it seemed there was a higher power that wanted to build him up, then promptly tear him down, because everything fell apart in Singapore.

Carlos felt like he was on a high he could never come down from. He was the first driver to break the Red Bull winning streak during the season. He was going to her his national anthem on the podium. And he had you by his side to experience the whole thing with him.

He grinned down at you from the top step of the podium, blowing you kiss. He sprayed champagne over you after he’d made sure to soak Lando as well.

After the race he was exhausted. He just wanted to stay in the hotel room with you and celebrate his win privately. His desire to keep you all to himself only grew when he saw you in that damned red dress.

He groans when he sees you, attempting to coerce you into ditching the club and staying in, but you want him to have his shining moment.

He made sure to keep you close to him in the club, afraid you’d get swept up in the crowd and disappear from his sight. He thanks everyone who congratulates him as you make your way through the crowd to the other drivers and WAGS.

“I’ll be right back amor.” He says as he presses a kiss to your cheek, leaving you with Lando to go talk to Pierre and Lance.

The two of them are very clearly celebrating Red Bull’s broken winning streak, throwing back drink after drink after drink. They cheer when Carlos walks up to them, only quieting down when they’re sushed.

“Y/n looks good tonight.” Lance says as he watches you with Lando.

Carlos snaps his fingers in front of his face to pull his attention back to him. “Yes, she looks beautiful. Now it’s very important that you don’t bring up the bet, alright, in fact, don’t even talk to her, ignore her.”

Pierre is about to respond when Carlos feels your arms wrap around his waist. He puts an arm over your shoulders and hopes that you can’t feel his heart beating out of his chest.

“They’re so cute!” Lance coos at you.

“You’ll have a great story for your kids about how you met.” Pierre laughs.

Carlos feels his blood run cold.

He tries to distract you, to pull you away from his two intoxicated friends before his secret begins to unravel, but he’s unsuccessful.

“It was all a bet?” You ask him, turning around with tears in your eyes.

Carlos hates this, he hates that he’s the cause of your pain. He reaches out, to hold you or wipe your tears away he doesn’t know. “Mi amor-”

“Don’t call me that.” You take a defiant step back from him, lulling yourself out of his reach.

Most of what happened next is fuzzy in Carlos’ mind, he was far too overwhelmed with the atmosphere of the club and the thought of you slipping through his fingers. Well, it’s all fuzzy until you question his feelings for you, asking if he had hired the photographer in Spain.

He’s quick to defend himself, telling you that his feelings for you were never fake, and that he would never hire someone to take photos of you like that.

He knows his fate is sealed when you leave him there after pulling cash from your bag and shoving it in his chest. He tries to follow you, to chase after you so he can fall to his knees and beg for your forgiveness, but your words from earlier ring true. People wanted to celebrate Carlos. They pull him in different directions, acting as obstacles between him and you.

When he does finally manage to pull himself outside he practically spins around looking for you in all directions. You left without a trace though. He hates that you left him sure, but he can’t ignore the discomfort in his stomach at the thought of you walking back to the hotel alone at night in the middle of Singapore.

He sprints to his car, and breaks a handful of traffic laws just to get back to the hotel as quick as he can.

He runs to elevator, aggressively pushing the button for it, as if willing it to be faster. He takes quick strides to the door of your shared room.

He opens the door to find you hunched over your open suitcase that rests on the bed, shoving your clothes inside. When you turn back to look at him with your red eyes and tear stained cheeks it feels like someone’s stabbing a knife into his chest.

“Y/n, what are you doing? Where are you going?” He asks, attempting to pull your hands away from your suitcase, kneeling down next to the bed.

“I’m leaving Carlos. I’m going home.” You sniffle.

“The plane doesn’t leave until tomorrow morning.” He says.

“I found a flight that leaves tonight.” You tell him as you continue to shove clothes in your bag.

Carlos notices you’re still wearing your red dress, probably having decided that wearing the dress to the airport is the price you’re willing to pay to leave faster.

“Y/n, please, let me explain-”

“There’s nothing to explain Carlos. You made a bet with a few other drivers that you could get me to fall for you. And it worked. You won.” You sigh.

“But I promise you, I never lied about how I felt.”

“That doesn’t matter Carlos!” You exclaim, exasperated. “You took the bet. The reason you dated me and actually started getting feelings for me was because of a bet. Do you think you would’ve ever actually tried to approach me without the bet?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Exactly.” You sigh. “That bet was the foundation of our relationship. And I can’t live with that.” You zip up your suitcase. “I’m going to leave now, and you’re not going to follow me. Everything will go back to the way it was before. You stay on the Ferrari side of the paddock, and I’ll stay on the McLaren side. We never have to see or talk to each other again. We will go back to no longer existing in each other’s lives.”

“But I want you in mine.” Carlos stands up.

You shake your head. “I don’t want to see you right now Carlos. I don’t know if I’ll ever want to see you again. If you have any respect for me you’ll honor that.”

Carlos let’s his eyes take you in one last time, then gives you a stiff nod.

You leave him there, closing the door behind you before he lets his own tears fall from his eyes.

He become more invisible in the paddock, at least to you. He no longer walks past the McLaren building. He tries to distance himself from your area of the paddock. He becomes just a name on the grid, moving up and down as the races progress.

At the end of the first week you’re surprised to see an Instagram story he’s tagged you in. It’s a black screen with a generic font that writes out

Y/n and I are no longer together. Please respect our privacy, her’s most importantly.

You sigh and set your phone down. Lando sits across from you. He was furious when you told him what happened, promising that he had no idea what was going on. You believed him, and fell into the hug he had offered. Ever since he found out he had been by your side, acting as your guard dog. He was there to snap at paparazzi that tried to ask about the absence of Carlos in your life and yours in his, and keeping an eye out for a figure in red.

“You should just tell them what he did to you.” He suggests one day after a run in with various cameras.

“He’s your friend.” You shake your head.

“No. He’s an idiot. He deserves to face the repercussions of his actions.” He grunts.

You smile and shake your head. “Thank you Lando, but I’m fine.”

He gives you an unconvincing nod.

The truth is, you did start to feel fine after a while. You had grown used to your old routine again, even if a small part of you missed the Spaniard.

Carlos on the other hand was a mess. Everyone at Ferrari could tell. He was starting to become the shell of a person. Staring blankly into space when not in the car, yet driving with an agression they’d never seen from him before.

He did have a serious talk with his publicist and PR team amidst the breakup.

“I want those photos from Spain gone. I know we can’t control what fans post on social media, but I want any new site, any gossip pages to get rid of those photos. I don’t care how much it costs, I want them gone.” He figured that making sure the photos of the two of you on the beach were wiped from publications was just a small step in making things right.

He mostly kept to himself now, and was starting to show visible signs of a lack of care for himself. Dark circles appeared under his eyes, his once always perfect hair now laid flat on his head. Charles tried to coax him into social outings, but Carlos was quick to deny, instead choosing to stay by himself, getting more time in the gym or on the SIM.

Charles had come over to the McLaren building with a look of defeat on his face. Lando trked to shoo him away, claiming that Ferrari drivers were not allowed in the building. You brushed him off, inviting Charles to sit with you.

“How are you doing?” He asks.

You sigh. “I know you’re here to talk about Carlos.”

He nods. “He is not doing well Y/n…”

“Yeah? Well I’m hurt too-”

“No, of course he should be sad, what he did to you was horrible, and I’m sorry.” He tells you. “But he’s starting to look… unhealthy…”

“Unhealthy?”

Charles tells you about Carlos now, his insistence on overworking himself, piled on to his clear lack of sleep. You’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t hurt a little at that.

“I don’t expect you to just forgive him, but maybe talk to him? It could help him turn back into his old self…” Charles shrugs.

“I’ll think about it. Thank you for telling me Charles.” You nod and give him a quick hug before he leaves.

Races go by, and you can’t seem to find the strength to actually seek Carlos out. That is, until the Las Vegas Grand Prix.

It was exciting being in Vegas. You knew that you were going to have a lot of good opportunities to get some good social media content of the boys, but were deflated when you heard that the first free practice session hadn’t even lasted ten minutes.

You were shocked to hear that it was due to Carlos’ car hitting a drain cover, but relieved to hear he was okay.

You hung around the McLaren building waiting for the FIA to decide whether or not to continue with the first free practice, then to eventually start the second free practice. You struggled to keep your eyes open in the early hours of the morning, happy when you could all finally go get some sleep.

The next day the news was announced that Carlos would be facing a ten place grid penalty that resulted from his crash.

Surprised eyes watch you as you carefully step into the Ferrari building. No one stops you when you seem to take calculated steps to the driver’s room’s. You stop outside of Carlos’ room and take a deep breath. It had been a month and a half, surely by now you would be okay seeing him again.

There’s no answer when you knock on the door, but you hear a soft shuffling when you call out his name.

Carlos is just as surprised as everyone else when he peeks out the door and sees you, maybe even more so.

“Y/n… come in.” He steps to the side, opening his door further for you.

You take a few cautious steps inside. He tries to tidy up the small room, quickly throwing his clothes that lay haphazardly on his couch onto the shelf with his spare fireproofs.

You walk over and take a seat on the couch. He does as well, making sure to keep some space between you.

“I’m sorry about practice. And your car.” You say after a few minutes of silence.

“It’s okay.” He sighs.

“No it’s not. It’s not your fault the FIA didn’t properly cover the manholes on the track. It’s not right for them to give you a penalty because of it. You don’t deserve that-” You stop when you notice his staring at you. “I’m rambling, I’m sorry.”

He gives you a small smile. He’d do anything to keep you here rambling away with him. He scoffs shaking his head. “I deserve a lot worse than a ten place grid penalty.”

“It looks like you’ve put yourself through worse recently. You need to take care of yourself Chili.” The nickname surprises the both of you, as does the soft hand to his cheek as you inspect his face.

You pull your hand away when you realize what you’ve done. Carlos immediately misses your warmth.

“I didn’t tell anyone…” You break the silence again.

“You should have.” He replies, looking down at his lap.

You shake your head. “I didn’t want you to have to deal with that out.”

“You’re far too kind to me mi amor.” Again, the term of endearment is accidental, something that wasn’t meant to fall from his mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

A knock on his door cuts him off. “Carlos, we need you back in the garage in ten minutes.”

“I should probably go…” You slowly stands up.

“Right.” Carlos clears his throat, standing up as well. “Thank you. For coming by.”

You nod. You walk to the door, but stop, turning back to him. “If you ever want to stop by McLaren, for lunch or something…”

He nods. “I would love to.”

He feels his heart skip as you give him another small smile before leaving. You’ve given him the smallest second chance, but Carlos decides that he’s going to hold onto that and never let it go, because he’ll be damned if he screws this up a second time.

#carlos sainz x reader #cs55 x reader #formula one x reader

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apomaro-mellow · 4 months

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Every Baby Needs a Daddy 4

Part 3

"And you said yes?", Robin said, her voice impressively even.

"I did", Steve said, phone on speaker as he got ready for work. "I figure, if he's going to have a sugar baby, might as well be me, right? I think this is the universe giving me a break."

"Okay, yeah, sure, until he takes you out and gets you involved in like drugs or something, or takes his anger out on you when he doesn't win a Grammy or something. Or worse, you're a mistress and his actual spouse comes for revenge. OR you actually get really involved with him, help him get even more famous, have very talented children, but then his drug running gets you arrested and when you get out of jail he acts like he doesn't know you and estranges your children!"

Steve paused in putting on his shoes, grinning. "You've been watching Empire."

"Terrence did Taraji so dirty Steve."

"But not enough to learn their characters' names. I need you to catch up so we can watch season 2 together." It hurt being away from her. Before, whenever one of them started obsessing over a show, they could literally sit down and put aside one of their days off to binge a bunch of episodes.

"Sorry, let's get back to you dating a rockstar? Steve? Steve."

"We're not dating. He's just gonna text me whenever he wants to fuck. That's it. He might buy me something nice from time to time." Steve grabbed his keys and went out the door, nearly stepping on something left on the floor in front of it.

"Okay, yeah, sure, but isn't this the reason you cut your parents out? Did they want this exact life for you?", Robin asked.

"No, this is totally different. For one thing, Eddie doesn't want commitment. He doesn't want kids out of me. And even if I attend events with him, I'm just arm candy, but you know, in a good way."

"There's a bad way to be arm candy?"

Steve thought back to the functions he had to go to when still under his parents' thumb. There was definitely a bad way to hang off someone's arm like a decoration. He looked to the little box in his hand. No note, but it had clearly been placed in front of his apartment.

He opened it and found an expensive looking watching inside. The face was a cool navy blue color. He didn't need a card to know who it was from.

"Eddie's different from the guys my parents wanted", Steve said. "And when it's over, I'll at least have something to show for it."

"Just don't be stupid about this, dingus. If this goes sideways, I won't be close by to save your ass."

"Noted", Steve said as he closed the box and continued on his way to work.

-------------------

The next time Eddie texted him, it was to go to lunch. It was a more casual setting than before, but still a pretty high end sushi restaurant.

"I must admit, I called you here under false pretenses, Steve", Eddie said as they sat in a booth.

Steve smiled at his serious tone. "I gathered, given our whole arrangement." Being taken out somewhere was typically a prelude for something intimate later, even in a normal relationship. When Eddie asked him out, Steve full expected sex. He wasn't complaining, last time had been very nice. He wondered how long until Eddie sent a simple 'u up?' booty call.

"I have to attend some fancy lunch meeting in a couple days and they're taking us to a sushi place", Eddie started to explain. "Problem is, I hate sushi."

"...Did you...are we here to train your taste buds or something?", Steve asked.

Eddie nodded. "These are some pretty important people and I can't sit there and tell them my favorite fish is whatever they use for fish sticks."

"Pretty sure it's cod."

"What? Nevermind. I just need to get one of everything and force myself to acquire a taste for it", Eddie said, eyes narrowing in focus at the menu.

Steve smiled. It was cute how serious he was being. He thought back to previous gatherings when some alpha would try and force a drink on him or when the hors d'oeuvres being served weren't to his liking.

"Want some advice?", he offered, continuing when Eddie nodded with his big Bambi eyes, "Instead of forcing yourself to like something, you should be able to say why you don't like something."

"Sounds like complaining", Eddie said, putting the menu down.

"No, you sound cultured", Steve clarified. "Watch." He cleared his throat and held up his glass of water. "Thank you for offering, but I only drink water from a natural spring. I prefer Canadian or Icelandic, but I'll take Swedish if you have it. Nothing from Switzerland though, it has this horrid mineral after taste to it." He set the glass down, adjusting under Eddie's wide eyed gaze.

"I don't know if that was bullshit or not but it sounded legit."

"It's legit what some girl said at a party once. I've never sourced where my water came from, but it works for just about anything. If you can articulate why you don't like something, it comes off better than just saying you don't like it."

"What kind of parties did you go to?", Eddie smirked.

Steve shrunk a little. "Just, you know, parties. So what's your experience with sushi?"

"Supermarket stuff", Eddie said simply.

"....You're kidding. How long have you been a rockstar?"

"I didn't realize this was an interview."

Steve tapped the table as he considered something. He looked to the other part of the restaurant. The bar where chefs were preparing the food. He almost asked Eddie a question directly, but remembered his role as a sugar baby. It wasn't his job to ask how much something would cost or even to ask Eddie to spend the money. All he needed to do was ask for what he wanted.

So he moved over to Eddie's side of the booth and leaned in close to his space. "I think you need something a little more...fresh."

"Fresh?", Eddie echoed as Steve led him to stand.

"And flavorful."

"Uh-huh."

"And satisfying", Steve whispered the last part before sitting down at the bar.

Eddie didn't know when Steve got him here but he did and he ordered something called 'omakase' and suddenly the chef's hands got really busy. He put a little filet of something on rice and then took a blow torch to it.

"I didn't know you could cook the fish..."

It was placed in front of him, but Eddie was still skeptical, which Steve noticed.

"'Omakase' means you're trusting the chef to pick out the best for you", he said. Then Steve took his chopsticks and picked up his piece. He ate it in one bite and Eddie subconsciously swallowed as he watched it pass his beautiful lips and then slide down that gorgeous throat. He wasn't even eating sexily, that was just how far gone he was.

Then Steve picked up Eddie's piece and held it to his lips. Eddie didn't even hesitate to open up and let it in. Tender rice, delicate fish, a total opposite to the sushi he'd experienced before. And it didn't stop there. The chef served cut after cut and each time, Steve asked him what he liked or didn't like.

Eddie was no slouch when it came to language. So he was able to come up with that on his own. He had just never considered respectfully refusing food and to do so with a haughty air deserving of a celebrity.

"Mmm, great choice on the shrimp", Eddie praised the chef. "Texture is superb. Sweet on the tongue too. Nice one, Tatsuro-san."

"Better than the crab?", Steve asked.

"I'm sorry, but nothin' beats an old fashioned crab boil for me. It's the only way I can eat crab."

"You've got opinions and you know how to voice them. I never imagined that be an issue for you, but I think you're ready now."

"Oh I've got opinions out the wazoo. I was just taught to never complain about food."

"Good boy", Tatsuro commented as he prepared something else.

"Very good", Steve agreed as an oyster on a half shell was put in front of him and Eddie.

Tatsuro winked at Eddie and he tried not to think about it as they finished up the course. He was absolutely not thinking about how oysters were an aphrodisiac, or how he'd had a great time, or how this felt like a date and not an outing with a hot piece. He wasn't doing a good job of being a sugar daddy, was he?

Time to fix that up right away. He paid for the meal, leaving a generous tip and led Steve out the restaurant, arm around his waist.

"You were extremely helpful. I can honestly say I like sushi now", he beamed. "And I think excellent service deserves a reward."

"You gonna give me a tip too?", Steve teased. And there was certainly a tip Eddie wanted to give him. Really the whole thing, but he had another idea in mind. And thankfully the appropriate place wasn't too far from here.

"You're buying me a suit?", Steve realized as they walked into a tailor's.

"I've got an eye for these kind of things. And you need something to match your new watch", Eddie said. He had a feeling Steve knew what to do, so he let him free.

Steve gave him a look and Eddie made a 'go on' motion. So Steve went, picking out different pieces for himself to assemble a new suit. There was a man awaiting any need of assistance and did so once Steve came out of the dressing room and stood in front of the mirrors.

Eddie was sitting before him, watching as Steve appraised his reflection and the tailor took some of his measurements. The suit was in silver, with a black shirt underneath. He finished of the look with a dark blue handkerchief in the chest pocket. It already looked great. Eddie knew he'd be breathtaking once it was bespoke. He ached to put his hands on him but public decency kept him from doing so.

"You look good enough to show off", Eddie praised.

"You look like you have somewhere in mind", Steve said, looking at the other man through the mirror.

"There's a shindig goin' down that I wouldn't mind having a date to."

Eddie put in the order for the suit to be done the day before the event. "Let's head back to my place."

This time, as they traveled, Steve was the one who couldn't keep his hands to himself. His hand stroked Eddie's thigh, getting close to where he wanted but never actually touching.

"What're you thinking about?", he asked when he noticed how hard Eddie was holding the wheel.

"Oysters. And you." And how he really should get a personal driver on hand.

Steve laughed softly and let a finger do circles on his crotch. "I think our chef was trying to be subtle. But I know what oysters are supposed to do."

"Oh?"

"And I don't need any culinary suggestion to get me in the mood." Honestly, he kind of felt like blowing Eddie now and probably would have chanced it if it wasn't still light out. "Can you be a good boy like he said?"

Eddie nodded.

"Good. Because we still have to take the elevator."

They didn't get as far as they did the first time they took this elevator but Eddie did attach himself to Steve's back and kissed at his neck. Once again, Steve could see their reflection in the wall. Eddie's eyes roamed his torso, wanting to go further but holding back. He only got bold enough to pinch a nipple through his shirt when the doors opened to their floor.

Steve only moved because of Eddie's prompting, finding it very easy to melt in his hold. They got about two steps out of the elevator before Eddie pushed him against the wall, kissing his lips and running his hands up under his shirt.

"Saw you lookin' at yourself in the elevator. Pretty baby likes how he looks?"

Steve's only response was to moan against his lips and rub against his leg. The closest camera was all the way at the end of the hall, though they'd be screwed if anyone opened up their door. He knew he looked good and liked looking good. And he'd seen the way Eddie's eyes were glued to him at the tailor's. That was a good feeling too.

Eddie took out his key card to open up his door and pulled Steve inside. They migrated to the couch, just needing to get horizontal. Steve lied underneath, Eddie's leg in between his again and providing friction as he rutted up against it. It was so hot, Eddie wanted to watch him get off just like this. If he got his pants off he could watch that sweet pussy drag-

Steve nearly jolted off the couch when a loud guitar riff sounded from Eddie's back pocket.

"Shit", Eddie hissed when he realized who was calling. He could ignore it, but he knew they'd just keep it up until they got to his door.

"You need to take that?", Steve asked, voice a little breathless.

"Just-just gimme a moment, it'll be quick." Eddie answered and Steve could be patient. He just couldn't be good and patient. He rubbed at Eddie's arm before taking his hand in his own. He brought it to his lips and swirled his tongue around his index finger, keeping his gaze down at first and then looking up at Eddie.

The man above him was speechless, up until whoever he was talking to shouted at him from the other end and got his attention again. Well, half of it anyway. The other half was on Steve sucking down two of his fingers now. Eddie groaned both in frustration and the beautiful man under him. Steve was only half following the conversation but it sounded like their time together might be cut short.

Eddie hung up with a sigh. "Baby...baby I gotta go."

"Right now?", Steve asked.

"Yeah but...but if you could, I mean you can stay here until I get done. It'll be quick, just a couple of hours tops. And I can take you out to dinner too."

"You want me to stay?"

Eddie's hair shook as he nodded. He stood up, glad he had a bit of time to calm his boner down. Then he saw Steve lying there on the couch, lips kissed wet and certain his lips farther down were just as glistening. He leaned over to cup him between the legs, feeling the warmth through his clothes.

"Don't forget who this belongs to", he growled when Steve whimpered.

"Okay." And because this man was sent from above, he whispered, "Daddy."

Eddie couldn't hold back then, kissing him hard, tongue marking his insides while rubbing Steve through his pants. He unzipped them, thinking he could just get him off quick when the ringtone sounded again. Pulling back was the hardest thing to do.

"Keep it nice and warm for me", Eddie said before fully removing himself.

"Hurry back."

And then Steve was alone. In a rockstar's hotel room. He thought about what a sugar baby might do when their daddy went off for what must be a very important but impromptu meeting, especially when it stopped such a heated moment. It became very obvious what he needed to do and so he headed straight for the bedroom.

Part 5

I need you to know that when I first envisioned this fic it was literally just supposed to be smut with connecting scenes but it somehow turned to "don't catch feelings" and "oops we're accidentally dating" the fic so here we are.

Tag Team

@awkotaco24 @lingeringmirth @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @tartarusknight @velocitytimes2 @mrsjellymunson @trashcanniballecter @marklee-blackmore @dragonmama76 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie @sllooney @starman-jpg @oxidantdreamboat @xxbottlecapx @chaosgremlinmunson @newtstabber @tiny-enthusiast @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper @y4r3luv @hello-fellow-nerds @anonymousbandgirl @alyelf @potato-of-the-lord @beckkthewreck @greatwerewolfbeliever @croatoan-like-its-hot @pluto-pepsi

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #platonic stobin #omegaverse #a/b/o #next part is gonna be oohoohoo!

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aurae-rori · 12 days

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DR RATIO ANALYSIS

SPOILERS FOR 2.1 CONTENT!

Now, you might be saying - "Aurae, Oh No! and Are You Satisfied? are much too basic songs to analyze Dr. Ratio to! Just because he's a scholar doesn't mean that he has academic trauma!" WRONG! Before we start, I have been researching psychology for approximately six years and I plan to go into it professionally. HOWEVER, that said, I am NOT a professional (YET. One day I will be. Yay for Aurae!) so understand that everything I come to conclusions about has been analyzed with some personal judgement, personal interpretations, and this is just what I have concluded with the info that I have deconstructed from his brain. If you disagree, that's fine!

I will be pulling from my own experiences with being a "golden" and "gifted" child, as well as the experiences I've had speaking to other people who were those. I will also be pulling from my experiences of researching and seeing how people with superiority complexes work, as well as diving into how those work (from what I've seen, as well as how they conceal a lack of self-esteem).

OKAY, NOW THAT THAT LONG AHH DISCLAIMER IS OVER, ALLOW ME TO WORK MY PSYCH ENJOYER MAGIC! Let's deconstruct Dr. Ratio like a lego toy.

Let's start off with how Dr. Ratio presents himself. When you first meet him, he seems like a haughty, arrogant asshole. He likes to PRESENT himself as a stoic, superior scholar who is purely in it to win it, and I got total "*stares down at your tiny body and laughs at how you lack knowledge*" vibes at the very start, due to how he goes around calling people idiots all the time. However, he DOES lose the idgaf war, and we can very quickly see that he does care for other people, even if in his own, strange way. Dr Ratio presentation: An asshole. The reality?

His entire character is based around the idea of helping the masses. He wishes to spread knowledge through the cosmos and give people who didn't have access to it, access. He's a harsh teacher, and calling people 'idiots' is NOT the way to motivate them, but he's doing his best™.

Actually, no, I'm going to go full psych into this. Okay, so here starts the Dr. Ratio and my FATHER COMPARISONS. My father is a professor and he is often called a harsh grader by his students. However, I've spoken to him multiple times because I was curious - why is he so harsh and diligent with his grading system? The answer is - he wants them to actually learn. When he's grading, he gives them harsh marks because he wants them to know exactly where they messed up, and he's always willing to stay after hours to help students understand where they can't. My father also is an enjoyer of knowledge, and for as long as I've remembered, he has prioritized teaching me how to think critically. He wants me to be able to think for myself - and I think that's what Dr. Ratio wants, too. He wants for his students to be able to fully comprehend and absorb the information that he teaches, and although his methods are harsh, he genuinely wants to help. My father's like this too - he hates students that waste his time or aren't here because their hearts are in it. Dr. Ratio hates people who aren't taking their education seriously because knowledge is important. Knowledge is a tool, and to disregard it completely is lowkey kind of insulting - especially when there are people who weren't privileged enough to actually get it, so this isn't something that you should take for granted. Dr. Ratio despises people who take knowledge for granted.

Also, I disagree with the claims that say that Dr. Ratio hates the genius society. He shows open respect for them in his voice lines. Just check them if you need proof. Also, I'll delve into the idea of Aeons and recognition later.

Now that we’ve established that Dr. Ratio kins my dad, let’s let's tackle the 'stoic' allegations. He is LOSING the idgaf war. Like, really badly. He has a temper of a thousand suns and snaps at people frequently, despite his 'impassive' face, his tone holds a LOT of emotion. He seems to feel very deeply and has a shit ton of empathy for others - why else would he be dedicating his entire career to helping others? Of course, he doesn't express this in 'typical' ways of being openly kind - but it doesn't mean that he doesn't care for other people. In fact, he seems to be pretty good at putting himself in the shoes of others and understanding them - expressed in the 2.1 quest where he tells Aventurine to tell him if he can't hold on any longer. Also, he loses the IDGAF war because he is actively trying to help people who want to learn and trying to spread logic and knowledge across the cosmos to those who didn't have it before. Would a man who didn't GAF do that? No!

Now that we've covered his view on knowledge and the way that he presents himself, let's turn to the way that he SEES himself. Now, this is where we get into the nitty gritty of gifted child trauma & academic trauma as well as crippling expectations. It's literally explicitly said in his character stories that he sees himself as mediocre, and it's canon that he doesn't have a good view of himself. His self-esteem is down in the fucking trenches along with my sanity as I write this analysis. The reality is - being called a genius your whole life doesn't really make you feel better about yourself. I'd know. I was. In fact, it makes you feel fucking worse when you can't live up to an expectation. We all fail in life. It's part of being human. But when you're held to such high standards - idolized for your knowledge and the way that you're 'gifted' - the crash comes really fucking hard. Failure is inevitable, and when people who are held on that pedestal experience it, they take it really bad.

The reality is that nobody - not even geniuses - are perfect, but you grow up believing that you are. Then, when you fail for the first time, it all comes tumbling down. The first time I came home with a bad grade was one of the most humiliating moments of my life. I hadn't studied because I was arrogant and I thought that I was smart enough to pass without putting any extra effort into it - because I was a 'gifted' child, right? I should've been able to do it without studying like the other kids. And that's the thing with gifted children – you grow reliant on that title. You cling onto it for dear life for motivation, as well as self-perception. Little by little, the person you are falls apart as you slave away to the perception other people have of you. I think basically every gifted child that I've ever spoken to is a victim of this – and of course, you can heal from this mindset - but it's a hard one to shake.

Ratio's way of presenting himself as being a 'genius' and 'arrogant' also seems to contradict the way that he calls himself 'mundane' at the same time. However, these are two mindsets that can coexist. One part of you believes that you are a genius and that you are perfect, while the other part is crumbling and calling yourself good-for-nothing every time you make a mistake. It's a tiring cycle to live in. This usually leads to people shutting themselves out and closing themselves off after living like that, pushing back your own feelings in favour of being the perfect child. However, we don't know the exact details of Dr. Ratio's childhood, but we can infer that he was held to a pedestal, and this is a very harmful mindset for a child to have.

His superiority complex comes both from how other people view him, but it's a way to cope with his crippling lack of self-esteem. I'm sorry my guy. Also helping others probably helps him feel like he's worth something and makes him feel better because he bases his entire worth off of what he can do and how he can help others. However, this is just my personal interpretation backed by what I have already deconstructed.

In general, this is an easy way to crush self-esteem. You spend your whole life working to meet the image of what other people think you are. In fact, another reason why Dr. Ratio might be so harsh is because that’s the kind of attitude he holds towards himself when conducting research – he’s as hard on himself as he is to others. You end up hating the idea of failure, instead of seeing it as it should be - a way to improve and grow. Actually, I think this could be a reason that he went out of his way to break that illusion of 'worshipping geniuses' in the Space Station. Maybe some sort of childhood connection? Personal connection? In his endeavour to spread more knowledge and make people think for themselves and not blindly follow geniuses, to wake them up and let them think for themselves - maybe, somewhere, in there, he's helping that little child that was almost dehumanized for his intelligence. TLDR: Conflicting mindsets due to trauma, brain vs heart almost - his knowledge that he is a genius vs the crippling lack of his self worth.

Now that we've established Dr. Ratio's self worth, let's take a look at the impact Aeons had on him. Nous, the Aeon of Knowledge itself. I think in a world where the Gods are real, tangible beings that you can reach out and talk to - it makes sense that someone with high ambition and someone who's been called a genius his whole life would seek the confirmation of Nous. When you're a man of knowledge, and you've spent your whole life working with it, being praised for it – it feels natural to look for a god to look down upon you and bless you, right? The Genius Society – it should house him, because he is a genius as well, right? Imagine this – you have been called a genius your whole life, held to that kind of pedestal for so long, and now you wait for the recognition of the Gods. Because if you truly are a genius – then surely, a higher being will recognize your intelligence, right?

The invitation never comes.

And then, comes the doubt.

What if I'm really not a genius? What if everything I've worked for is a lie? Aeons are beings that are 'absolute'. If the god of Knowledge won't accept you or even cast a glance upon you, does that mean that everything was wrong. Gods see more than humans, after all. Gods know more than humans - and that spiral... I think you can see if. (If you don't let me know. I will ramble about how a failure like that can make you spiral down into a worse mindset).

However, the reason why Ratio was never invited to the Genius Society is simple. It’s because he LOSES THE IDGAF WAR. Now, if we look at all the people we know who are in the Genius Society - we find one thing in common. They’re in it to win it for themselves. They don’t help others using the knowledge that they’ve gotten - they use it to pursue shit for themselves. The people of the Genius Society are inherently self-serving. They WIN the idgaf war. Ratio LOSES. Do we see now?

Ratio’s empathy is the reason why he wasn’t let in. He is too human. Nous is a computer. Herta is detached from people. Ruan Mei is literally looking at life as test subjects. Screwllum is a robot.

OUR DOCTOR MAN LOST THE IDGAF WAR, BECAUSE HE IS HUMAN AND FEELS FOR OTHERS!!!

Also, it’s a plausible theory that Nous’s definition of ‘genius’ is different from the human definition of ‘genius’ – it’s a computer, after all. Who knows what’s going on in that code head of its.

However, we still love you Ratio. Never stop losing the IDGAF war.

TLDR: Nous is a computer. It is also in it to win it. It is also self serving. It gazes upon the hoes who are here to win it for themselves. Ratio is busy serving the masses and cooking knowledge in his frying pan. To it, there is no logical reason to be doing this. Therefore, no reason to invite this guy to the Genius Society.

Ratio’s gifted child trauma says otherwise. He wants in. Why wouldn’t he? He’s been working his whole life as a genius.

Nous is like… nah bro, you care too much. Ratio is like, ‘what the fuck?’ And then the AEON OF KNOWLEDGE GOES FOR THE MILK.

Okay, now, quick shoutout to Ratio wanting to help others. He is just like me fr. SO BASICALLY, RECAP OF EVERYTHING I JUST SAID:

Ratio LOSES the idgaf war because he cares about other people. Spent his whole life as the golden egg, and then turns to the gods for recognition because of the inherent trauma of being a child genius. He goes, "hey bro, can you confirm that I am in fact a genius?" and Nous goes, "no, you are too busy cheffing for the masses." Ratio goes, "what the fuck?" and then we collectively realize his attitude comes from blocking off his feelings (while failing miserably), being salty about not being recognized, being put on a pedestal for his whole life, and his crippling depression *cough* lack of self worth *cough*.

Oh, and the "I will never be enough" thought train probably hits him every single day. He is not enough to be recognized by a God. Gods are superior to humans. Maybe nothing has worth after all. Hey, that's Nihility! Hi IX, let's hear what you have to say.

*muffled ix noises*

I see, I see.

The consensus is: HE'S TRAUMATIZED BY EXPECTATIONS! HE WILL PROBABLY SUFFER FROM BURNT OUT GIFTED CHILD IF HE HAS NOT ALREADY!

Okay, now, before I delve into song lyrics (and I KNOW this has been long, just bear with me) I want to talk a little bit (read: a lot) about his relationship with Aventurine. We all know that he cares about Aventurine in his own way. But I want to pull in another idea that I didn’t cover before:

Ratio’s fucking emotional constipation.

Basically, the reason why he has trouble connecting with others is because he was most likely alienated by others as a symptom of being called a genius and being put on a pedestal. This makes him seem unapproachable to his peers, most likely, and therefore, as a result, doesn’t know how to properly connect with others. This just makes his way of presenting affection and care to others even more challenging – because he just doesn’t know how to do it in a healthy and clear way. Academic trauma causing emotional problems, because he’s probably a little bit out of touch with his own. Processing? No! Research. Also, this is very important for understanding Ratio’s character in my opinion, because he’s just a little guy who doesn’t know how to articulate. Maybe he’s got a touch of the ‘tism. Tism mutuals, do we agree or disagree?

However, in comes Aventurine. Love Aventurine, but they are both emotionally constipated. Aventurine displays his affection in ways that Ratio probably only catches after re-analyzing their time together about five times. He’s also a very closed off individual – but Ratio knows this. A cute thing is that Ratio is patient where he needs to be, even if he’s generally a pretty hot-headed guy, and I’m like… bro… that letter… “I wish you the best of luck”... I will wait for you…. GAY ASS MAN…

Sorry the Aventio demons took over. Anyway, what I’m trying to say here is that they both have nonverbal communication with one another that they clearly decipher and Ratio obviously cares for him (he came back and almost jeopardized the plan just for the sake of his ‘coworker’... okay gayboy…) and they just have such a neat little dynamic… Aventurine lets Dr. Ratio do his thing… understands his emotional alienation to a degree…. they’re so neat….

Okay, Aventurine segment over. NOW, FINALLY, WE CAN GET TO THE SONG LYRICS!!! YAY!!!! We all cheered!!!

We are going to be here for two more amber eras, because I realized I actually want to analyze every single lyric from both of these songs. Brace yourself for like, 2k more words. Help.

I think it’s only proper that we start off with ‘Oh No!’ the song that has haunted me since my childhood.

“Don’t do love, don’t do friends

I’m only after success

Don’t need a relationship

I’ll never soften my grip”

Remember when I mentioned that alienation was a big part of Ratio lore? Yeah, that manifests itself in this. When you spend your entire life chasing after knowledge and being held to that standard of untouchable genius, it makes sense that you couldn’t connect with others and that you turn your gaze only to success. Therefore, relationships that are interpersonal lose meaning for a bit – you’re just looking for answers and ways to help them, not connect with them. Also, this is what he wants to do – so he’s never going to pass down an opportunity to better himself or to help someone else.

“Don’t want cash, don’t want card

Want it fast, want it hard

Don’t need money, don’t need fame

I just want to make a change

I just wanna change, I just wanna change”

This is directly alluding to his reasonings for distributing knowledge across the cosmos. Was he based on this song? Maybe he was. He’s not looking for money or fame, his ultimate goal is actually pretty selfless – to bring knowledge and give people the tools they need to think for themselves. He just wants to make a change – he just wants people to be able to have access to knowledge and help cure ‘stupidity’. He wants to do it as quickly as possible, always reaching for lofty goals that might seem impossible, but he will make them possible.

“I know exactly what I want and who I want to be

I know exactly why I walk and talk like a machine

I’m now becoming my own self-fulfilled prophecy

Oh! Oh no! Oh no! Oh no, oh!”

Ratio knows his goal. He knows what he’s working towards. I do believe that he understands why he is the way that he is – he has a degree in Psychology, after all. He knows how he’s been hurt but at the same time, the trauma brain probably doesn’t want to recognize it and he hasn’t stepped into healing yet. He knows what he went through impacted him, but he’s too busy helping others to help himself. He’s becoming what he wants to be, and yet he’s not, all at the same time – which causes the idea of “oh no!” as a kind of cry for help, almost. He’s too proud to ask for it himself, of course, so he’ll fall alone until someone manages to catch him and give him the strength to continue holding on. Aventurine is that.

“One track mind, one track heart

If I fail, I’ll fall apart

Maybe it is all a test

‘Cause I feel like I’m the worst

So I always act like I’m the best”

Now, these are the exact lyrics that made me associate this song with Ratio in the first place. He’s got a singular goal that he will do nothing to stop at getting, that he goes so far to get to. However, as I mentioned earlier, failure is not an option for those who were deemed gifted or genius. You are perfect, so therefore you must live up to everyone’s every expectation and surpass them, too, in order to keep your perception of yourself intact. Ratio does not hold himself in high regard, but acts arrogant in order to hold himself together and not fall to the self-deprecating thoughts, even if they fall through the cracks. It gets tiring to hold yourself together like that for a long time, you know?

“I’m gonna live, I’m gonna fly

I’m gonna fail, I’m gonna die

I’m gonna live, I’m gonna fly

I’m gonna fail, I’m gonna die”

Remember how I was talking about contradictory mindsets and how they can coexist. This is them. The feeling of crippling self-hatred and lack of self esteem versus the idea that you can do it, you can make a difference – you were born a genius, this is what you’re going to do. This is the knowledge that you are a genius vs the lack of self-esteem that Ratio has. “Mediocre” vs “genius” mindset, eh?

All the other lyrics in this song are repetitions of what I’ve analyzed before, so let’s move onto “Are you Satisfied?”

To be honest, there are only a few lines in this song that allow me to connect it to Ratio, so therefore, I will only be analyzing them. However, if you think that other lyrics can connect to him, I’d be interested in knowing how.

“What you’re gonna be

It’s not my problem if you don’t see what I see

And I do not give a damn if you don’t believe

My problem, it’s my problem that I never am happy

It’s my problem, it’s my problem on how fast I will succeed”

Pretending to not care about how the world sees you is so fucking real. Sometimes, you really don’t give a shit, and sometimes it’s all you can think about. Ratio… doesn’t seem like he’s the happiest person. He works himself hard and he’s always chasing after a goal that must be exhausting. He’s always doing his best, and I think even with his empathy, it’s easy to start not giving a shit after trying for so long and so hard. Accepting help is one of the hardest things that anybody can do, especially with how much pride he has. His personal problems are his personal problems and he can deal with them on his own.

“High achiever, don’t you see?

Baby, nothing comes for free

They say I’m a control freak

Driven by a greed to succeed

Nobody can stop me”

Nothing comes for free. A lot of the things Ratio has achieved is due to his own intelligence, yes, but also because of a shit ton of hard work. His goal is literally to cure the universe of ‘stupidity’ – and that’s a pretty large fucking goal. He is a high achiever who likes to know the details of every situation when he can in order to try and make things better, and he is driven by a greed to succeed. Why wouldn’t he be? Success is important, and success means helping more people. He isn’t going to allow himself to be stopped by anybody – not even anybody from the Genius society.

Okay, and we have finally reached the end of my analysis! This caps at around 4k words, so if you stuck around for this long, thank you so much. I would love to hear any of your comments, and I hope you laughed a little bit. Thank you again! This means so much to me that you read. <3

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burnorgetburned · 8 months

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okay. OKAY. I JUST WANT TO SAY.

NEW MUSIC STYLE. NEW ART STYLE. NEW MAGIC SYSTEM, NEW GIRLS, MORE CLARA DOLLS, MORE HOMURA OUTFITS, MORE EVERYONE OUTFITS, and AAHAHAHAHSGH.

Homura wins by style points alone.

Anyway. Choice screenshots and my thoughts on them. Plus a few wild theories. Replies, tags, and your own reactions are VERY welcome.

(You're doing great, sweetie!)

First of all, I’ve already said this, but Homura has usurped Kyubey. She is the contractor in this new system. She calls magical girls and asks them if they can bear the responsibility of fighting (LEAGUES better than Kyubey's misleading BE A HERO language), using a magical lizard phone. She knows better than anyone else how heavy this is.

And she looks amazing while doing it. Look at that outfit! Look at her steampunk-esque aesthetic! Her throne. Which, notably, has glowing magenta eyes and her wings as a backrest.

The moon is either actually, physically repurposed, or she’s made something that looks like it. Not only that, but the pins going into the moon are exactly like the pins that went into her soul gem when she was being experimented upon in Rebellion. Those pins, according to the artbook, are for draining her gem of grief to keep her just before the point of witching.

Well, here’s my first wild speculation: Homura has not only taken over Kyubey’s job as a contractor but also its job of disposing of grief. That moon steampunk device is maybe for collecting, concentrating, and distilling grief into energy - hence the strange tesla coils connected to red liquid in the second screenshot above. She's doing what Kyubey says it's doing - turning the grief of people into energy to prolong the universe's lifespan.

I for one support her reality-warping shenanigans.

Here are some voices over a phone, sometimes speaking over each other, sometimes together. They call Homura “Akuma-sama” (!!!) which is a distinct upgrade from calling her Good-For-Nothing. They say “Just bring hope” like a mission statement. Are these her contracted girls? Or her Clara Dolls? They seem to show her a lot of respect.

I’ve also said this, but I strongly feel that this and the girl shown later are some of Homura’s new contractees. Their magic is darker. It warps the world around them, even. Their outfits incorporate black a lot more, too, though that might be the lighting.

Look at the little sigil on the top left-middle! Looks a lot like Homura’s lizard sigil shown when she was consuming the universe, just with a longer lizard.

And, of course, the image of Madoka throwing herself off of a building. “Wraith” and “Legend of Bestie” (lmao) show up here. I’ve actually been really looking forward to seeing what they’ll do with Madoka’s… self-sacrificial tendencies, so this might be part of that. Or, because of “Wraith”, it’s… well, I’ll get to that later.

On the other hand, it might not be Madoka. It might be the girl who the speaker in the phone call calls her "best friend", jumping to her death because of a wraith, and Homura saving her to fulfill a wish.

So glad that the insane architecture from Rebellion is making a comeback. Love what you’ve done with the place, Homura. Look at all those cranes!

The outfit changes are very cool to me. I honestly don’t have speculation for why Sayaka is covered in bandages, but I do have speculation for the changes!: they’re older. Years have passed. Since they’ve changed and grown, their outfits have changed, too. I don't have proof of this - I just like the idea.

Light shines down on Madoka. Petals fall towards her as flowers bloom above. Behold, Homura's extremely subtle and inscrutable feelings. (Sorry for the blurry Madoka, but I am not going through the ordeal of uploading screenshots to my computer again because Tumblr does not like mobile users).

Homura is apparently waiting for Madoka here. She's standing right in the fountain's water and holding a Victorian umbrella like a vampire. Right now we can see that the visuals of this movie will not miss.

Is this a routine thing for them or is Homura just showing up to greet them this one time, for some reason? No clue. Madoka's expression as she notices Homura could indicate either.

Eagle-eyed people on Twitter noticed this, but in these shots, Sayaka already has her bandages.

Aside from the multiple and/or teleporting Homuras, there's also a Clara Doll in a ballerina dress and a cute Clara Doll peering over the side of the tower like a little kid.

The tower is interesting. It appears to be made of books or pages, and there's chains throughout it. More notably, it's in the shape of a helix - infinity symbols on top of each other.

Please appreciate these Clara Dolls. I'm sure they're working hard.

But seriously, those Clara Dolls' details. One has a witch's hat. One has an apple on its head. And the one with a teacup appears to have not only a lizard's tail but a replica of Homura's Devil outfit. Appreciate them!

Here is Homura(?), lounging or trapped on a chair filled with even more of those pins. Look at her closely. She's wearing a strange combination of her magical girl outfit and her Devil outfit - her shoulders are bare, and she has... feathers? She's sitting on a bunch of nails. But she also has two soul gems - one in her hand, and one hanging from her neck.

Is she cleansing them? Eating them? Holding people hostage? I don't know, but I support her completely.

She looks so tired.

So: here's some of what I think might be going on.

Homura is using wraiths to repress her worst memories. We know already that wraiths take memories and emotions from their victims. Well, there's no reason it can't be used as extremely terrible coping! Homura actually does this in the Wraith Arc, too - she lets a wraith take her feelings for Madoka.

If it is Madoka, it explains the shot with Madoka throwing herself off a builing - what if Homura has seen this happen in the loops, and out of pain lets a wraith pull it right out of her? The shot says "WRAITH" and billows with smoke. A wraith could have taken Madoka's form to act out this memory. And it doesn't need to be a memory - it could also represent Madoka's self-sacrifice and almost suicidal tendencies. This, too, would explain the multiple Homuras. All wraiths using her form.

This puts forward powerful enemies for the plot, as well as an interesting point of literally fighting Homura's demons. Most importantly, this lets everyone see Homura's pain.

Other wild dartboard speculations:

Homura will try and present herself as a villain. This is, honestly, kind of guaranteed, but it bears mentioning that her magical girls will be very likely to try to defend her.

Kyubey may appear to try and turn the girls against Homura.

Homura made the new magical girl who is drawing a bow. She has a lot of design choices from the Quintet, and people have already noticed how much she looks like Madoka. This new girl plays a role of the hero to Homura's pretend-villain, eliminating the risk that her friends will get seriously hurt.

The new magical girl is actually Madoka. Or the Law of Cycles. Or Kriemhild Gretchen.

The girl who jumps from the tower is a contractee being asked to take a leap of faith. She does so, and Homura rewards her with magic.

#pmmm #pmmm analysis #puella magi madoka magica #madoka magica #walpurgisnacht rising #walpurgis no kaiten #pmmm 4 #please tell me what tags to use for spoilers!#pmmm specuation #homura akemi #long post

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manicpixiefelix · 4 months

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never wanted anything from you (except everything you had)

{ One-Shot AU for head, heart, hand. }

@saintbeau asked: I know you said in the Canon ending, up until a certain point, Oliver was planning to let the reader live. If he'd never decided to kill them, do you think they'd suffer a similar fate as Farleigh and be forced out? Or do you think there's ever a possibility of 'the pet coming with the house' so to speak? I think to a degree Oliver's yearning to take Felix's place could lead him to essentially slotting himself alongside the reader if they'd allow it.

Summary: After the death of your best friend and his sister, you can't bring yourself to stay at Saltburn, even when their grieving mother wishes you would. However, after several years away to process and grow, you find yourself back in touch with Oliver Quick, who's changed so much in the time you've spent apart. Fate certainly has a funny was of working out, so you're not entirely surprised to end up back at the place you'd once called home.

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons. Oliver/Reader are endgame here.

Warnings: Very poor relationship with reader's parents. SALTBURN-CANON ENDING; Felix & Venetia are still dead, but we get a happy ending this time. Also not sure if it needs a warning but Oliver does admit to killing Felix.

A/N: 4162 words. This got away from me. this ends up being so painfully fluffy. it's VERY Oliver/Reader, Oliver's less of a bastardman and he doesn't kill Elspeth but her health is failing significantly like it does in the movie. i think i might have made him a better person as compared to the film, but it's still canon compliant mostly. it ends so fluffy and happy tho, i love it omg. AGAIN THIS IS NOT CANON TO head, heart, hand.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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There is no world where you stay where Oliver wins.

But there's a world where you leave, heart too heavy with grief, where you transfer from Oxford and spend time as an adult reconnecting with your own family, where he finds you again. Your parents don't respect you as family, but you're granted access to their lives, to be in their line of sight; you become almost like a live-in assistant who takes meals with them but for whom they show no outward affection.

It's all you have left.

You tell yourself it's enough.

"That Catton fellow offed himself," your father says it with such idleness, as if reporting the weather.

"Sir James?" You almost choke on your breakfast, and father peers down his nose at you over his morning paper, giving you a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Yes, sorry, I forgot you knew him -"

"Surely it doesn't say that he offed himself," your mother frowned, tugging at the corner of the paper to try and get a look at the article. They bicker lightly, charmingly, in the middle of this cafe about the death of your best friend's father, and what the article is saying or implying, but you just wonder about Elspeth.

Later, when you search through old papers and memories and notebooks, you find the number for Saltburn and call. Duncan's voice is familiar, as is yours to him.

"Captain," the old nickname is so gentle on his tongue, the most gentle you'd ever heard him be about anything. Then, as quickly as you'd heard it, the gentleness is replaced with apology, letting you know that Elspeth is unavailable, but that you'd be welcome to attend Sir James' funeral. You know you'd never be able to bring yourself to attend.

It's Oliver who reaches out, deliberate, in the months that follow. It's slow going, too formal for how intimately, how messily you knew each other for those few months in the Spring and Summer. He apologises, says he saw you on the cover of a tabloid trailing a pair of aging socialites and looked further into it.

"You looked -" he tells you over dinner in the city, beautiful, settled, no more of his youthful awkwardness; it had only been a few years, but how glad you were to see him, "fucking miserable," he says so gently, taking your face in his hands. Oh fuck, you'd missed him, missed his touch, missed how clearly he could see you - you burst into tears in the restaurant.

Dating Oliver makes you feel like a whole new person, raw, relearning yourself, realising you'd been living like a ghost since you'd left Saltburn. Your hyper competency had needed an outlet and your parents had provided that, but you were barely a person, to them or to yourself. Now you were learning who you were, alone.

Quieter. More focused and driven in your professional endeavours. As dangerously charming as Farleigh ever was. The memory of Venetia peeking through in your wickedly sharp wit. An echo of Felix in the affection you carried with you, in your smile, in your laugh. A living ghost, learning to love and embrace the ways in which you were haunted, rather than grieving for them.

You spend nights in his little flat, take refuge from your own life in his, and Oliver's the one who informs you that Elspeth has moved into town, leaving Saltburn echoing and empty, if not for the skeleton crew that maintains it.

"She wants to see you," there's a strange look in his eyes when he says it, something conflicted, almost dark, but when you smile, he too lights up.

Elspeth holds you for a very long time. In the middle of a cafe in walking distance for your both it turns out, there's tears in her eyes, and a joyful smile, and she doesn't let you go even as Oliver goes and order you all drinks.

"So beautiful, you've always been so beautiful," she murmurs, long, elegant fingers feather light against your features, no care for propriety here, "you're so grown up." It's like she's trying to connect the person you are now with the memory she has of you. Tears are welling in your own eyes.

"I'm sorry I left, mum." There's a lump in your throat and her tears start to fall as she takes your face gently, cradling you against her, laughing through her bittersweet memories.

"I never blamed you, pet, never," she assures, voice wet with tears but reassuring nonetheless. Oliver sits down on your other side, wordlessly leaning into you both, resting his head on your shoulder. The three of you stay like that for a long moment. You can hear Elspeth sniffling quietly.

The moment breaks, she lets you go, and when you sit back up, Oliver takes your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and resting your joined hands on the table. Immediately Elspeth's eyes focus upon them, and she gives a warm smile to your both.

"I cannot believe you've found each other again," and she sounds so genuinely joyful, "it's funny how the universe works out." Oliver gives a faint, bashful smile, leaning into you, bumping your shoulder for a bit.

"I'm a lucky man," there's something wonderfully, desperately loving in his eyes when he looks at you in this moment. It is, to him, the total and complete truth. Before you're overwhelmed by your urge to kiss him, however, Elspeth continues.

"After all that's happened, I am glad luck, and life, have brought you both back to me; I was just saying to dear Ollie the other day," Elspeth rests her cool, well manicured hand on your free hand, sitting on the table, "the two of you should come stay at Saltburn again."

Something constricts in your throat, grip on Oliver's hand tightening momentarily.

"I know," Elspeth is quick to move her hand to your shoulder, seeing the way your expression changes, drops, "but that house still holds so much love for you, my dear pet," and she takes a deep, shaky breath, finally admitting, "and I can't bring myself to be there alone."

Looking to Oliver, he gives you a gentle smile, nothing but sweet warmth and reassurance; he's changed so much since Saltburn, so sweet, so sublime. That version of Oliver didn't know how to love you or Felix in a way that was good for any of you, you came to realise, but this Oliver, oh this Oliver had crafted himself a home in your heart with love you didn't think anyone other than Felix had been capable of.

"It can be our home again," he murmurs, a sentiment Elspeth echoes like she hadn't even realised that was what she had wanted from you both;

"It can be your home again."

The drive to Saltburn feels like a memory, of young laughter and loud music and Summer sweat whipped away by the wind in Felix's convertible. The car you'd chosen to take with you is far more sensible, but still relatively ostentatious, and when you ask Oliver to drive, he of course obliges you. Still, the music is loud, and the day is warm, and even if the two of you are quiet, there's still a warm hand on your knee.

And you still feel loved.

Saltburn creaks and echoes with familiarity.

The doors open, and though you don't recognise the footmen either side of the entrance, you certainly recognise Duncan. He's older, of course, as are you. There's a touch of grey by his temples, and he's paler than you remember, but still prim, still gaunt and haunting -

"Mister Quick," until his eyes fall on you, and he softens almost imperceptibly, but you see it, you hear it in his voice, "and Captain Y/N," almost like it's an in-joke between you both by now.

"It's good to see you, Duncan," you tell him sincerely, and for the briefest moment he actually smiles.

"And you as well."

Everything's the same, just as Elspeth had assured you both. Everything's the same, just as when you'd left. Fled. Alone all those years ago.

Coming back, hand in hand with Oliver, it feels surreal.

Grand foyer, red staircase, secluded alcove that you and Venetia used to tease Felix about regarding his 'accidental' bout of cousin fingering, Henry Seventh's cabinet, the arch Felix claimed his grandmother haunted, the Green Room, gardens through the windows, Rubens that Felix never cared for but you had always appreciated. Still broken piano. Blue Room; still blue. The King's bedroom, not that you cared for Henry the Eighth, but Felix always liked to bring it up. The long gallery. Portraits of Cattons you had never cared for. Shakespeare's folios that you and Felix had spent a Winter going through, just to brag that you had, without realising how few people would care.

Sir James' teddy was absent from it's usual chair. Something about that makes something ache in your chest, just a little. So you look away, to the maze beyond the windows that you never want to go in again.

You know this house, this route, like the back of your hand even now. Oliver holds your hand tightly as you rest your hand on the intricate doorknob of the midnight blue door that you both remember so well.

"Are you okay?" Oliver's voice is quiet, is reverential, as you hesitate. Nodding once, you push open the door.

It still smells like Felix. His things are still here, still a bit of a mess. Books and knickknacks and photos. His wardrobe door is still ajar, the way you know you left it when you'd been scrambling to pack your own garments when you'd last been here, and his clothes still hang there, frozen, a moment in time.

It aches, but it doesn't... hurt. Not like you thought it would. It almost seems silly, to have this preserved for so long.

"Can we stay in here, Duncan?" You call out, knowing he must be around somewhere, he always was.

"I thought you might," Elspeth's gentle voice from the doorway makes you and Oliver both jump. But she's smiling at you both, and once the shock has worn off, you can't help but laugh. It sets you all off, laughing warmly, fondly, all three in Felix's perfectly untouched room.

Elspeth does, however, let you know that they've had the bathroom redone. She doesn't say it's because of Venetia, but you're quietly grateful nonetheless. You don't know if you could bring yourself to bath in there if all you could think about was Venetia's blood across the bathroom floor. It's different now.

When you try out the new tub, still claw-footed, still deep and soothing, there comes a knock at the door you'd left ajar out of habit.

"Mind if I join you?" It's Oliver, with a teasing little smile and hope in his eyes. He does not wait at the door like you know he once had, he is bold, he is unapologetic, he is confident in his love. Enthusiastically you wave him over, delighted to create new, better memories in this bathroom that no longer resembles the one you know.

There's still this strange kind of divide; Oliver, at times, still acts like a guest. Saltburn's been your home for too long for you to feel uncomfortable within it's walls, but Oliver's still always asking permission. For everything. He asks if he can borrow some of Felix's old clothes and looks relieved when you look at him like it's an absurd request.

"He's not going to be wearing them."

Elspeth gets this look in her eyes whenever she recognises any of Felix's clothes on Oliver, fond and nostalgic as she tells him she's glad they're no longer gathering dust.

"Beautiful clothes for a beautiful boy," she liked to say.

It takes you a few weeks to realise Elspeth's ulterior motives. Her health is failing. She has no family left. She needs people. As Oliver had pointed out so long ago, you were both desperate to be needed. Much like when you were younger, your own parents had no qualms about you living your life at Saltburn without them; they'd hire another assistant. The email they'd sent back to you did however note that you had been the best assistant either of them had ever had. It's the nicest thing they'd ever said to you.

Elspeth speaks to you alone one morning during the fall, the grounds turning all shades of golds and oranges.

"I..." your thoughts are moving too fast, her offer was so simple yet so overwhelming, "can't take Saltburn." A deep sigh escapes her, and she looks out over the grounds, but pets your knee, "I won't leave," you try to placate her, "you, or Saltburn, if you'd like me to stay; I'll be like Duncan -" this gets her to laugh, fond and bright, "but I think it will complicate things with my own family."

She tells you she understands. Her voice is getting weaker by the day. Then, after another long moment of gentle silence and contemplation, she speaks carefully.

"And Oliver?"

Part of you kind of knew this was coming.

"He might love Saltburn more than me," you admitted with a chuckle, "and he loves you dearly, you know that right?"

"He's such a strange, beautiful creature," Elspeth muses fondly, "I don't know if James even looked at me the way he looks at you," she smiles at you, expression turning soft and nostalgic for just a moment, "Felix used to look at you like that, didn't he?"

"In his own way," you agreed, unable to look her in the eyes while knowing exactly what she meant, exactly what she could see in this moment.

"They say we have more than one soulmate in our lives, pet," she says softly, reassuringly, and you look up once more. There's gentle hope and fragments of old grief that wrap around your heart as she continues, giving your knee a faint squeeze, "I think you're one of the lucky ones."

And your mind settles back on Oliver, how good, how kind, how loving he's been in the year since you'd reconnected. Finally, you're able to smile.

"I think so too."

Oliver seems genuinely surprised when you and Elspeth approach him with the offer. He keeps looking at you, confused. All you can do is smile, assure him that you want Saltburn to be in his name.

"I'm not abandoning you," you laugh, "I'll be here as long as you'll have me, help take care of any paperwork or maintenance or, well, calling people to take care of those things."

"They're a good house pet," Elspeth actually teases, while Oliver is still silent, looking at you in awe. He stutters through a verbal agreement, and Elspeth delightedly says she'll get the contract drawn up in the next few days.

"Why me?" Oliver finally asks, and Elspeth stands, wrapping her arms around him in a hug.

"You've worked hard all your life, Ollie, I can see that in you," she murmurs, "and you loved the ones so dear to me. I know you will love this home, and my darling Y/N, and one day I know it will be a family home again."

Oliver is quiet during supper, he keeps looking at you with this unreadable expression, almost grateful, but somehow intrigued. There's something lighter about him now, less tension carried in his shoulders, a small smile he can't quite get rid of. After you all eat, he offers you his arm and asks you to stroll the grounds in the moonlight.

"I thought it'd be you," his voice is so soft. The moon makes him glow. He's wearing the pale, linen shirt of Felix's that catches the light so beautifully.

"I could tell," you can't help but smirk, gently ribbing him. When he laughs, it almost sounds disbelieving.

"Saltburn was your home first."

"Saltburn is a place," you tell him, "my home was always the people in it."

"Felix was your home," he remembers when you'd told him that, how wide Felix had smiled when he'd heard it.

"And now," you're surprised by how your voice catches as you realise what you're about to say, "it's you."

"You love me," Oliver turns with wide, adoring eyes, while you can't help your shy smile.

"Of course I love you, you know I love you -"

"You love me-love me," he sounds like he's discovered the meaning of life, like he can see it in your eyes. Then, very suddenly, a whole new realisation seemed to wash over him, "I think I actually want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Oh! Is this -?

"I don't have a ring, fuck-!" Before he can get any further, you're kissing him, wrapping your arms around him, desperate to make him taste how much you fucking love him. Giddy and burning with desire, you feel like a teenager again, overwhelmed with delight and affection in this old house you call a home.

When you suggest that you meet his parents, properly this time, Oliver makes a face like he's bitten a lemon. It's a beautiful, cool mid-morning at the beginning of Winter, grey light reaching through the curtains to caress you and your fiancé, wrapped up in Egyptian cotton sheets.

"I've met them before," you remind him gently, hand splayed out across his chest as he looks at the ceiling, "I don't hold that Summer against you."

"Felix stopped... trusting me," his voice barely breaks a whisper, "he stopped loving me because of them," it trembles, catching, and you see tears in his eyes. A flush was rising up his cheeks, grief and a strange kind of fury overwhelming him it seemed, much to your surprise, "you should hold that Summer against me, should hate me, should -" it's spilling from him now, with such speed, such anger that it's almost frightening.

"Ollie, love -"

"I wasn't in my right mind, I was sick and obsessed and- and- and I can't believe I hurt you like that -"

"What are you talking about?"

Through his tears, his grief, his outburst, Oliver threw his arm over his face, unable to look at you, unable to look at anything in this room he now seemed to regret being in.

"I just wanted him to love me too," Oliver choked out, "I know you tried to help me - I can't believe I hurt you, I know you loved him - but I didn't want him to love anyone if he didn't love me."

"Oliver."

"I put the cocaine in his wine. I gave him the bottle. I left him there."

To your surprise, as much as the news hurts, it comes in a dull wave of grief, not the sharp, stinging kind you were braced for. What you don't expect is the sympathy that wells up inside of you for the man who just admitted to killing your best friend.

But you had spent years grieving for Felix, had come to terms with it, made peace with it. It's a shock to the system, of course, to learn he was murdered, but you can see the hurt, the guilt that Oliver had been carrying with him, and knows how it feels to be overwhelmed with love for Felix Catton to the point where you'd do unspeakable things with him in your heart. You'd ruined lived over one-word insults spat in his direction because that was who you were, that was what you did.

And you knew Oliver Quick, who he was, how he operated, the kind of desperate jealousy and need to be needed that became dangerous or perverse when they went unsated. Neither of you were the people you once were.

Carefully, you drape yourself over Oliver as he wept, wrapping him up tightly in a hug with one arm, other reaching up to brush through his dark, messy hair.

"Loving Felix makes us do terrible things," you murmur softly, fingers carding through his hair, "you took someone special from this world, but we can't change that."

"Why the fuck are you being so nice right now?" Oliver groans, voice full of disbelief, "I just told you -"

"You loved Felix and he stopped loving you back; you were drunk, and obsessive, and out of your mind with some psychosexual desire. You killed the man you loved, that we loved," you recount firmly, and he quiets down, still sniffling, "do you regret it?"

"Yes," he whispers.

"Are you lying?"

A long pause follows.

"I don't know."

"Did you ever stop loving him?"

"I don't think I ever will," then, moving his arm, he reaches out for your face, gently cupping your jaw. His eyes are bright red, smudged tear tracks shining on his cheeks, "I don't think you will either." You shake your head, confirming as much, before you turn your face and press a kiss to his palm.

"You're not that same person, Oliver, neither am I. The version of me from that Summer might never forgive the Ollie that killed Fi, but I know you now, and I know you love me, and you'll love this house, and the memory of Felix, just like I will."

"Why are you so good to me?"

"Because you're not a saint, and you're not a devil. You can't change the past. You're just a human, full of flaws, but you're better than you used to be, I know."

"I love you." He coaxes you forward, bringing you in for a passionate, messy kiss, murmuring against your lips, "I love you, I love you, I love you."

Still, you keep this revelation between the two of you. Elspeth never needed to know.

It was a small ceremony at the beginning of Spring on the grounds of the Saltburn Estate. Elspeth was barely able to get out of bed anymore, so the location was more for her sake than anything else. She'd insisted on taking the reigns for planning the wedding though, looking through folders and magazines with you and Oliver at her bedside.

A beautiful flower archway, Duncan officiating, and only your families as guests. At your suggestion and reassurance, Oliver had worked hard to repair his relationship with his family.

"You don't have to lie about being important anymore," you'd smirked at him, "you're inheriting the Saltburn Estate, you're marrying into my family; you're Oliver Quick, that means something."

Oliver's family had marvelled at the estate the minute they arrived at the property; his sisters and their partners seemed shocked and delighted.

"Is this your place?" One had asked you, eyes bright and incredulous as you and Oliver were giving them all the tour.

"Ollie's actually," you give him arm a squeeze as you give him a proud smile, watching as he ducks his head, flush with embarrassment.

"This is you house, Ollie?! What the fuck!?" Another shouted, even as her own partner laughed while asking her to tone it down.

Before the wedding even begins, his oldest sister has talked him into letting she and her children visit in the Summer.

It comes as a surprise when your own parents show up, though you suspect it's because Elspeth personally called to invite them, not because of you. They too are impressed by the house, but less so than the Quicks; they'd been there for gatherings in years past, after all.

When your grandmother arrives, however, that's when it all becomes real for you. Unlike your parents, she dotes on you. Your grandfather had been the head of the business when he'd been alive; your grandmother was a dedicated professional, but always a romantic at heart, which is where your mother claimed to have gotten her artistic proclivities from.

Oliver says you have the same, beautiful eyes, and she chuckles.

"He's a charmer, I see," she teases, but wraps him up in a hug. "You be good to them, Mister Quick," your grandmother tells him in a faux-stern voice as she leans out of the hug, "we're the kind of family you don't want to get on the wrong side of." Despite how she's waving a finger at him and doing her best angry glare, Oliver can't help but cast you a fond smile, wrapping an arm around you.

"I'm aware, ma'am; every day I feel lucky to have Y/N by my side."

This seems to sate your grandmother, who pets his cheek fondly, and tells you that you've got a good one.

"I think so too."

It's a beautiful, perfect day, the best day of your life so far, where the worst day is now but a mere memory. All that matters is Oliver Quick, and the love in his eyes as he looks at you, as he promises you;

"This house will be full of people who love you for the rest of your life."

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #saltburn x reader #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick x you #oliver quick imagine #saltburn imagine #head heart hand fic #manic writer

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rineptune · 2 months

Text

differently.

summary: angel dust catches the attention of an esteemed monarch from lust ring.

warnings: explicit dialogue and description, foul language, references to drugs, sex, and alcohol, please be mindful of the content you consume.

a/n: this is how my oc (yve) meets angel dust after ep 8, but you could imagine this as yn bcs it isn’t too detailed aside from the fact that yn (reader) is a hybrid between a scorpion and dragon demon. if this gets a certain amount of notes i might make a part 2 idk

“what got dollface runnin’ around like a headless goose so early in the morning?”

“oh! a friend of hers is visiting, and i heard he’s the baddest boy,” niffty giggles, tracing her finger on a freshly honed kitchen knife she got from the kitchen. distracted by the enthusiasm for the arrival of the “baddest boy,” angel dust took the opening to discreetly pry the utensil from her hand and placed it by the shelf.

angel dust yawns, taking a seat on the lounge chair. “charlie’s friend’s comin’?”

“not just my friend, you guys!” charlie tells them in a haste, “my bestest friend— we go way back; ever since we were in diapers.”

“bestest isn’t really word used, babe.”

angel dust passively shrugged, turning to vaggie. “and have you ever met charlie’s ‘bestest friend’ before?”

“no, but he does call and listen to her ramblings weekly,” vaggie answered. “and i heard he helped fund the hotel’s initial renovations when charlie inherited the mansion from her parents.”

“oh? we talkin’ rich sugar daddy here?”

“is money the only thing that you heard?”

“mm, maybe,” angel dust replied.

•

it’s not until later, past lunchtime, that their show-and-tell activity was disrupted by the new guest.

“oh, yeah~ daddy!”

“and this is my favorite episode of my ‘interrogation turned ravage session’ series because it’s the last one we had to do for the whole franchise,” angel dust shared with a toothy grin. “my co-star’s dick was average at best, but he did the stamina, which made up for his lackin’ technique.”

“that’s a very nice insight, angel,” charlie smiles awkwardly, cowering behind the decorative pillow.

“can we, uhm, have the next presenter, please?”

“can’t we just turn the tv off?” vaggie rolls her eyes.

“hm. ‘interrogation turned ravage session?’ that series won an award for longest screentime per episode, if i recall,” a new voice says, eliciting a surprised scream from charlie as she jumped into her girlfriend’s arms.

“who the fuck are you?” husk rose from his seat.

there you stood, indifferent to their semi-shocked and confused gasps and murmurs.

“my apologies for suddenly entering your hotel without notice, lie-lie—” you bowed slightly. “you weren’t answering your phone nor heard our knocking on your front door.”

your eyes met his, though they didn’t linger too long because charlie almost tackled you to the ground.

angel dust is left stunned.

satan, who is this?

“yn! you’re late; we thought you weren’t coming!”

“the train got delayed at the border, but all is well as i’m already here, hm?”

introductions went like a breeze, and now it was angel dust’s turn to be greeted by you. he had to admit that you had the sex appeal. it’s only natural that he had to flirt with you.

“and this is angel dust! one of our guests,” charlie says.

“nice to meet you, handsome,” angel dust greets, imitating a claw with his hands as he lets out a soft, seductive growl.

“i’m thrilled to meet you in person, angel dust.”

you took his hand—delicately and with absolute care, if he may add—placing a soft kiss on his knuckles. the gesture sends a flurry of butterflies coursing throughout his whole body, rendering him speechless and flabbergasted for seconds.

“i— uh, yeah, nice to meet ya. fan of my work?” angel dust recalls how you mentioned his series won an award— and not just any reward— the lust-stringed award that was usually reserved for media made from lust ring.

he just so happened to win the award because of the landslide of votes this year.

you chuckle, shaking your head. “if i were to be honest, i had no clue what your name was until now, but i only heard of your published shows through my secretary.”

“oh,” angel dust smiled awkwardly. “shame.”

“ah, my apologies if this puts an awkward tension between us.”

“it’s fine, not everyone recognizes a star from this side of the pentagram,” he tells you, relaxing back on the couch.

charlie and the others were gone by now, possibly giving the two a moment as they went to their separate businesses.

“what’re you doin’ here anyways?”

“i just wanted to pay lie-lie a visit,” you answered. “she was insistent that i travel from divine downtown to pentagram to meet you.”

“me?” angel dust perks up a bit.

“all of you here in the hotel, i’m sorry if i didn’t make it clear.”

embarrassment creeps at the back of the conversation, and angel dust wishes that it wasn’t this awkward because dear satan, this demon was hot as fuck, but he’s far too polite and nonchalant to have come from lust ring.

but he thinks something is about to come of this.

something new.

something different.

someone tell me how to continue this bcs i only have a vague idea in my head lol

#classic ໒꒱ ink #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel angel dust #angel dust #angel dust x reader #angel dust x you #angel dust fluff #angel dust x y/n

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katsus-world · 3 months

Text

I love the idea of watching katsuki train. Specifically season 5, (winter season when he was paired with jirou and sato! Along w some more.) anyways I think it’s so mesmerizing to just see him in battle.

To show off his skills that he’s worked so beautifully hard for.

His palms light up quickly as he propels himself into the air. His movements are strategic and planned and his eyes are so focused that you could see every twitch and shift.

The way he moved in the air was always so coordinated, and every blast along with every swing of his fist, was so powerful, intense.

It was envious, almost. He was obviously made for hero work. Almost like everything about him was hand picked from god herself.

Katsuki’s dedication, his drive for success and passion to get better. Even though his social skills could improve, his fighting ability was top notch. And one thing that you couldn’t get over was how pretty his quirk was…

He’s so pretty.

Pride swells in your chest as you see his team obviously win. You didn’t have a doubt about it, and you definitely just won 2,960 yen from class 1-b!

Quickly, you’re up on your feet, walking over to the angry man who was yelling at midoriya and all might. Like a second reflex, his head turns to see you in your winter clothes, a smirk on his lips as he steps to you.

“Knew you were gonna win, Suki,” you say as you punch his shoulder lightly.

“Obviously, they weren’t even a challenge.” His head is help up high and the tone of his voice is confident. Like always. He pushes you back in return.

Waking back to his side because his push made you wabble to the side, a smile is pulled to your lips as you stare at him with awe. His eyes shift to you with a quirked eyebrow.

“What’re you lookin’ at dumbass?” His voice laced with confusion instead of his usual annoyed one.

“Nothing, jus’ proud of you.” You replied smoothly. His eyes snap at you and then to whatever was in front of him.

He grunts in response. Scarlet eyes darted away from you so you wouldn’t see the pink wave that was floating on his cheeks.

“Come to my dorm later.” His voice is low and you hum in response, licking your pinky quickly with his before pulling away. You walk over to your team and discuss how to beat the other class.

❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹ ❤︎₊ ⊹

Rewatching the seasons and I can’t get over him using his quirk. It’s just so pretty!

Smut will come soon! I just love fluff tho! ❤︎

Not proofread, sorry for any misspelling! ❤️‍🩹

#liz writes #liz fucking talks #katsuki bakugou #mha imagines #my hero academia #bakugou fluff #bnha bakugou #my hero academia bakugou #katsuki bakugo mha #mha fluff #bakugou katsuki x reader

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literaila · 8 months

Note

Ur writing is great and all but can you write something where Peter is nicer?! I'm over here squirming like a donkey with a carrot dangled in its face and idk I wanna see Peter squirm for once

Ps. I literally inhaled all of ur blurbs in one sitting

dress

tasm!peter x fem!reader

a/n: actually i am physically incapable of making either one of them nice. it’s a character flaw

“peter,” you call, slipping some elaborate strap through shoes you know you’re going to regret later, but are far too good, too hot for now. “are you almost ready?”

last you heard, he’d been putting on his socks and just needed to grab his tie—which he had conviently forgot about.

but knowing peter, you’re not so sure.

you hear a grunt from the other room which means absolutely nothing, and, of course, everything.

“babe,” you whine, standing up to admire your leg for a moment, and then walking into the bedroom, click-clacking on your way. “we’re already fifteen minutes late.”

peter is standing in front of the mirror messing with his hair while his tie hangs loose from his neck. “ j’st one sec,” he mumbles, flipping his mop of a head to the other side like it’s going to fix anything.

“you know you’re supposed to tie that, right?”

“it’s in the name,” peter answers, rolling his eyes before they meet yours in the mirror, and widen every so slightly. “ouch,” he says, turning around you look at you.

“what?”

“that’s what you’re wearing?”

you look down to your dress; you’d been saving it for some special occasion, been waiting at least a year to pull it out from the back of the closet. it’s long and elegant, shows off just the right amount of skin, and is in peters favorite color (not that it matters).

you frown. “yes? is there something wrong with it?”

peter turns around again, clearing his throat. his hands reach for the ends of his tie, but he doesn’t do anything more. his eyes are on yours through the mirror. “nothing,” he says, while watching you.

but his voice is off and he’s still frozen, like he can’t move until you look away.

but you’re not going to back down first, obviously. he doesn’t get the win.

“no,” you say, walking to place a hand on the side of his waist. “what’s up?” you ask, leaning up so your whispering in his ear.

“it’s pretty.”

“then why do you look like i’ve just stolen your baby or something?”

peter shakes his head, and finally, he looks away. his hair gets more messy with every movement he makes. “i’m just nervous.”

“you’re nervous about a charity event that you volunteered both of us to go to?”

“i think the mayor might be there…” he mumbles, messing with the cuffs on his sleeves.

(it’s only slightly distracting)

you snort. “you literally asked the mayor for a fist bump on the news the other day.”

“hey,” peter says, tilting his chin up, “i didn’t do anything.”

“whatever, peter. what’s really going on?”

“i already told you.”

he’s messing with his tie again, but his hands are shaking a bit. and even though he’s pretending to wrap two ends around eachother, he’s not really doing anything at all. just mindlessly fidgeting.

you look at his face, brows furrowed. there’s a hint of pink on his cheeks, and when his eyes meet yours for just a split second, he’s flashing them away like he’s afraid that you’ll catch him.

you blink, frowning, and then you get it.

you smile at him, a bit cruelly.

“you’re nervous, huh?” you say, moving even closer to him. a hand falls on his shoulder, and the other plays with a loose strand of his hair. “this is a big event.”

“uh-huh.”

“i completely understand. who knows what might happen,” you whisper, faux pity in your voice. you turn so you’re facing him, pulling him towards you from the two ends of his tie. peter follows almost limp. “here,” you say, smiling at him, “let me help.”

you wrap the ends into a knot, not looking away from peters eyes for even one moment. you don’t think he’ll mind if his tie turns into a bow.

“you look really nice,” you tell him, whispering even though he’s the only one that can hear you. “i knew you’d look good in a suit.”

peter swallows. “you’ve seen me in one before.”

“mmm, this is different. i’ve never seen you put one on before.” a finger trails up his jaw, and you tilt your head at him.

“oh.”

you giggle, and finally look away, tightening the tie up to his neck. when it’s done you look up at him, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his chin. “there. good?”

peter clears his throat again and turns from your hands to look in the mirror. he straightens the tie, though clenches his fist before he can do it. he nods at you. “thanks.”

“anytime,” you tell him, moving away. you look in the mirror, playing with your hair. “do i look alright?”

peters head snaps towards you. “of course. you look great.”

“really? cause i wasn’t so sure about this dress…” you look down at it, a false pout on your lips.

“it’s beautiful.”

“are you sure, peter? because you kind of froze when i walked in, so… if there’s something wrong with it—“

“no,” peter interrupts. he spins you so your facing him. “it looks great. you look great.”

you sigh, and pull away the tiniest bit. “i guess i could still change, but we might be even later.”

“you don’t need to change,” peter says. his cheeks are even rosier now, and his eyes seem almost pained. but he doesn’t look away from your face.

“you cant even look at me, peter. you don’t need to lie.”

there’s a pause where you’re looking at peter—and even though your face is serious, your eyes are deadly. you want to watch him break. he’s looking back at you, eyes faltering, mouth opening and closing like he’s not quite sure what to say.

and then he shakes his head, sighing. “i cant look at you,” he admits, voice a bit harsh but quiet.

you tilt your head, “why not?”

“we’re already late.”

“what do you mean?”

peter hangs his head for a moment, laughing at the floor. then he looks back at you, and pulls you in by your waist. “if you want to leave any time tonight, then we can’t stand here any longer. i’m already going crazy.”

“why? are you okay?”

he scoffs at you. “c’mon, don’t tease.”

“i would never, peter.”

he rolls his eyes. “i know what you’re doing,” he whispers, leaving a peck on your nose. “and so do you.”

“i’m not doing—“

but he kisses you, rough like he’s been waiting to do it for years on end. his mouth his hot and his hands are desperate as they cling to your waist, your neck, keeping you from moving even a centimeter away from him.

you cant breathe when he kisses you like this, but it’s not completely necessary. you kiss him back with just as much fever, your fingers wrapping into his hair.

when he pulls away, he’s breathless and his eyes are dark. “we really have to go,” he says, voice raw.

you smile up at him, feeling just as breathless. “so you like the dress?”

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zegrasdrysdale · 3 months

Note

we now need a fic of how Jamie reacts when you wear the Canada jersey👀👀

[ oh canada ] j. drysdale

paring : Jamie Drysdale x fem!reader

summary : Jamie finds his girlfriend in his Team Canada jersey and shows her what he thinks of her in it

warning(s) : smut ! slightly dom!jamie, fingering, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), pet names during sex

author’s note : ask and you shall receive anon (with canada’s loss in the quarterfinals at the wjc, i had just the idea for this request). this was also mostly written pre-jamie trade so … yeah

༺═──────────────═༻

It wasn’t long long after the horn before the first wave of notifications began rolling in.

WJC SHOCKER: Team Canada Loses to Czechia in the Quarterfinals

Team Canada went 3-1 During Preliminary Round; Loses to Czechs in Quarterfinal Match

Czechia is Moving On! Czechs Celebrate Shock Victory Over Reigning Champs

She isn’t from Canada and doesn’t quite understand why the entire hockey world goes crazy for the World Juniors tournament every year, but her boyfriend is from Canada and he played in the World Juniors tournament in 2021. He gets into it every year, and even places bets with his teammates that have played in the World Juniors, mostly Trevor and Mason though.

Jamie’s team lost to the US in 2021, and it was a rough loss for the entire team. He’s told her so many times that he wishes he was able to do more to help his team win.

She didn’t meet Jamie until after the tournament but he is always talking about it. She knows how much he loves the World Juniors, and she knows how much he hates watching Canada lose.

The idea doesn’t come to her until she’s digging through their closet to find something to wear to go out with her friends later that night. She finds Jamie’s Team Canada jersey in the back with his old Ducks jerseys.

A smirk forms on her lips as the idea slowly forms in her head. She grabs the jersey from the closet and a pair of lacey red panties from her underwear drawer and puts both of them on. She wears nothing but the panties under the jersey.

If Jamie comes home from watching the game with his teammates all mad that Canada lost to Czechia, he won’t be as soon as he sees her in his jersey with barely anything on underneath.

The game ended fifteen minutes ago so Jamie will be home any minute since he was just down the street at Trevor’s with Mason. She makes her way out to the kitchen to make some coffee since he was out early this morning for practice then went right to Trevor’s for the game.

She stands in the kitchen in front of the coffee machine when the front door opens. She hears Jamie’s voice before she sees him.

“No, Z,” he is saying. “I am not going to wear your jersey for arrivals at our next game. I never agreed to- um, we can argue about this later.”

Jamie must’ve seen her because he hangs up the phone really quickly. She turns her head and sees a flustered Jamie Drysdale standing behind her in front of the door. His eyes rake her entire body. Her bare legs and loose jersey that is too big on her. Her hair is in a bun on top of her head so his last name can clearly be seen.

“Hi, baby,” she happily says. “How was your morning? I heard about Canada’s loss.”

“Yeah, it was a rough, uh, loss,” Jamie stammers. “Um, is that my Canada jersey? Why are you wearing it?”

She finishes making Jamie a cup of coffee and walks over to him. His eyes widen when he sees the Team Canada logo on her belly. “I thought you might be a little upset about Canada losing so I wanted to surprise you,” she explains as she hands him the cup of coffee. “Are you surprised?”

Probably out of instinct, Jamie takes the coffee from her. His eyes are on the jersey on her body. “I’m definitely something,” he mumbles. “Jesus, (Y/N).”

The most innocent smile forms on her face. “Glad I was able to surprise you,” she says. “Do you want something to eat? Or did you eat at Trevor’s?”

“I was too stressed out to eat at Trevor’s,” he replies. “I can grab a snack or something later though. I’m a little tired between being up early for practice then yelling at Trevor’s TV.”

She shakes her head. “I can grab you something,” she tells him as she heads to the cabinet. “Do you want sweet or savory?”

(Y/N) reaches up to move things around to see what they have for snacks and feels the jersey ride up. Her ass is definitely exposed and Jamie probably has a nice view of the lace panties that are under the jersey.

There’s the sound of a mug being put down behind her then there’s a hand on her ass and a hand on her waist on top of the jersey. Jamie presses his entire body against hers.

“Did you actually wear this jersey to surprise me or did you wear this jersey because you wanted to get fucked?” he asks in her ear. “Because I’ll gladly bend you over the counter right now and give you what you want.”

She turns her head and meets Jamie’s eyes. There’s a fire behind them that she rarely ever sees — usually after a rough loss. His usually bright eyes are dark with lust.

With a moment of hesitation because she’s unsure what she’s going to start, (Y/N) softly says, “I always want to get fucked by you, but this was genuinely meant as a surprise. I always want you though. Counter or no counter. Jersey or no jersey. I want you."

Jamie processes what she said and blinks before he turns her around. His eyes drop to the jersey that practically swallows her. She doesn't understand how Jamie finds this attractive. It's big enough on her that she could get away with wearing it as a dress.

"You look so pretty in my jersey," Jamie tells her. His voice has dropped to a whisper. "The things I would do to you in this jersey."

"So do it and stop talking."

His lips are on hers as soon as the last word passes her lips. The kiss is rough and feverish as soon as their lips connect. She lets out a soft groan as Jamie presses himself completely against her. He slots a thigh between her legs and she has to refrain from grinding against it.

One of Jamie’s hands cups her jaw while the other is on her thigh. He lifts her leg up around his waist and she jumps onto the counter behind her without breaking the kiss. She grips the collar of his t-shirt and his hands slither up underneath the jersey.

He cups one of her breasts and groans when he realizes that she isn’t wearing a bra under the jersey. She swears she feels the bulge that’s resting against her thigh grows a bit at the realization.

When she smirks into the kiss that follows, Jamie nips at her bottom lip. She yelps in surprise but he quickly kisses it softly.

Jamie pushes the jersey up her body so she leans forward a bit so he can get it over her butt since she’s sitting on it. She laughs and wraps her arms around her boyfriend’s neck so she doesn’t fall.

The laugh is quickly cut off when he slides his fingers down her belly and into the waistband of her lace panties. She gasps when his fingers run through her already soaked folds. She spreads her legs wider for him without Jamie needing to ask.

He breaks the kiss and rests his forehead on her for a second. She leans backward until her back collides with the wall behind her. Jamie bites his swollen lip and hooks his fingers in the waistband of her underwear. He pulls the lace off her body and throws it somewhere on the ground.

“Tell me to stop if you get uncomfortable,” Jamie reminds her. “You know I will.”

“Get your fingers inside me, Drysdale,” she replies. “I’m about to do it myself in about two seconds.”

“That would be kind of hot.”

“Jamie!”

He smiles before he slips one finger inside of her to start. She sighs and leans her head back against the wall. He slowly begins to pump that one finger inside of her, then he adds a second one seconds later.

Her legs are already shaking as Jamie fingers her closer to an orgasm. He places soft kisses on the inside of the bent knee. Her one foot is on the counter so Jamie has better access.

(Y/N) has to bite down on the collar of the jersey she’s wearing to stifle any noises.

That doesn’t last long.

“Nuh uh,” Jamie says as he pulls the fabric out from between her teeth. “I wanna hear you, baby. Let me hear those pretty sounds you always make when you come on my fingers.”

She whines and bites her bottom lip.

A third finger is added and she lets out a noise that doesn’t sound human. It’s like a moan and a yelp at the same time, but Jamie seems to love it. She has to resist covering her mouth with a hand because of how embarrassing that sound was.

Then Jamie begins to curl his fingers in a “come here” motion. She’s immediately done for without warning.

(Y/N) involuntarily rolls her hips against his fingers and cries out Jamie’s name repeatedly. If she slams the back of her head against the wall, she doesn’t notice because her entire body is overwhelmed with pleasure. Her vision goes completely white for a second before she comes down from her high.

The first thing she notices is how shaky her legs are. The second thing she notices is Jamie licking her come off of his fingers. “Fuck, Jamie,” she mumbles. He smiles and sends her a wink.

“Think you can stand?” he asks after a moment.

She slides off the counter very slowly and carefully just in case she’s unsteady on her feet. Jamie helps her until she’s sure she’s steady.

Then he turns her around and wraps one arm around her torso. She gasps when his lips attach to her neck right under her ear. “Gonna give you what you really want,” he mumbles into her skin. “Gonna bend you over this counter and give you my cock right here. Gonna fuck you in my jersey.”

Goosebumps rise on her body from his words. It’s so rare when Jamie speaks like this but she loves it.

“Please,” she sighs. “Jamie, please.”

He sucks a mark into the skin right under her ear before he bends her over the counter. The sound of a belt buckle rings throughout the kitchen before it hits the floor. There’s a zipper being unzipped and movement behind her before she finally feels the tip of Jamie’s dick run through her folds and already sensitive clit.

Jamie lifts the jersey up and kicks her feet apart. She sighs when she feels him begin to fill her up. “Fuck,” she groans. “Come on, Jamie.”

As soon as he bottoms out, he begins rolling his hips. His cock is moving slowly and deeply at first. Jamie doesn’t wait to pick up speed and intensity.

Soft noises come from both of them. She squeezes her eyes shut and Jamie grabs a handful of his jersey that rests on her body.

She finds herself thankful that Jamie has a hold of the jersey because she’s afraid she’s going to fall with how weak and shaky her legs are. There’s nothing for her to grasp on the counter so she’s fully trusting Jamie not to let her fall.

Jamie lifts one of her legs up onto the counter so he can get a new angle. “Holy fuck,” she cries out. “Baby.”

“I got you,” Jamie assures her. “I have you. Relax.”

She rests her forehead on the cool, smooth countertop. That’s probably the only thing keeping her from sweating at the moment. Her nails claw at something to grip but she finds nothing.

The familiar knot forms in the pit of her belly. It threatens to come undone every time Jamie thrusts into her. She can tell he’s close to with how sloppy his movements get.

(Y/N) looks back at Jamie and finds that he’s taken off his shirt. His chest glistens with a thin layer of sweat. She bites her lip and rests her cheek on the counter.

“Come inside me,” she croaks. “Wanna feel you come in me.”

Jamie lets out a soft whine. “You can’t just say that,” he breathes out.

“I want you to,” she tells him. “Make me come on your cock then come inside me. Please, baby. Want you to.”

Her words must really affect him because he’s shooting into her seconds later. His thrusts are slow and deep so it’s not long before she’s coming after him.

He slouches against her back and presses soft kisses to the swell of her ear. She smiles and stands up. He slips out of her and he grabs paper towels to clean her up as she spins around to face him.

Jamie throws the paper towels out and (Y/N) runs her fingers down his chest and over his abs. “I will never get enough of you,” she admits to him. “That was crazy and you’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably good, I hope,” Jamie replies with a smile. “It wasn’t too much?”

She shakes her head and captures his lips in a lazy kiss. “I might have to wear more of your old jerseys if it means getting bent over the nearest surface and fucked,” she mumbles.

He laughs and picks her up. She helps in surprise. “We’re going to bed and we aren’t getting up for a while,” he tells her as he walks down the hallway. “No phones either so if you have plans, cancel them now because I’m not done with you in this jersey yet.”

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

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spaceshipellie · 9 months

Note

ok ok rockstar!ellie x actress!reader ,, ellie being like obsessed with reader and her films / shows and says smth about u during an interview. reader seeing it and talking about it in another interview. even better if readers a bit older than ellie and ellie had a poster of reader in her room when she was younger sjshsg

the blades

rockstar!ellie x actress!reader

part one (two pending)

summary: ellie’s band did a song for your upcoming movie and you both mention each other in interviews.

warnings: reader is like 5-6 years older than ellie but they’re both in their twenties

author’s note: i love this concept so much i want to write more rockstar!ellie x actress!reader in future!! tysm for the request, i hope you like it 🖤 wc: 800

“so let’s talk about your latest single, caves, which is for the new movie end of beginning, right?”

“right,” ellie nodded at the interviewer, twisting the rings on her fingers which rested in her lap. she was usually pretty nervous doing interviews, still only feeling truly comfortable in front of a crowd when she had her guitar hanging from her shoulders.

“it’s an incredible song and goes so well in the movie, i mean…” the interviewer’s voice trailed off as they turned to the audience who were whooping and cheering at the compliments. “well they certainly agree!”

“thank you, we’ve had so much fun getting to be a part of it,” dina beamed her award-winning smile.

“so were you able to meet the stars? what did they think?”

“we did briefly which was amazing,” dina carried on, “and i think they loved it!?” she turned to jesse.

“yeah they thought it was great which for us, you know, was crazy as they’re super talented people so that recognition was uh, was amazing. ellie especially loved it,” jesse said, sneaking in a jab at his band mate and best friend.

“really ellie?” the interview seemed keen to know more.

ellie stretched her arm up, nervously scratching the back of her head and tried to fight a smile off her lips. “yeah, i mean i…oh man, thanks jesse.”

“anytime.”

“i’m a huge fan so it was a trip getting to meet them,” she finally settled on.

“meeting y/n?” the interviewer pushed.

“yeah, meeting y/n was great.”

“why do i feel like there’s more you’re not telling me?” the interviewer joked.

“well,” she awkwardly laughed, “no, i mean she’s an insanely talented actress and i’ve loved her movies for years so it’s always pretty crazy meeting someone like that.”

“that, and the posters,” dina leaned into ellie’s shoulder. ellie tried to refrain from swearing on tv.

“posters?”

“yeah,” she admitted, “i had a poster of her on my wall when i was like 16.”

“was she a bit of a celebrity crush for you?”

“something like that, yeah.” ellie’s cheeks had gone bright red and they felt hot under the bright stage lights and mini interrogation she was experiencing.

“oh it’s all coming out now,” jesse laughed and dina laughed with him. ellie chuckled, embarrassed, whilst shooting them a glare.

she ran her hands down her face. “oh, i can’t believe you just made me admit that on tv.”

“she’s probably going to see this,” the interviewer said, “and she’s on here next week.”

“oh god, don’t even mention it.”

— a week later —

“so, y/n! thanks for being on the show.”

“thank you for having me!” you shot your best smile at the interviewer and the crowd, who cheered.

“you’re new movie end of beginning is out now, is that right?”

“yes it’s out now and we had the premier last week which was an incredible night!”

“it looked amazing, as did you, so stunning!”

“thank you so much.”

the interviewer went on asking you more questions about your role in the movie before bringing up ellie’s band, the blades.

“you might have already seen but last week we had the blades on our show and they said it was amazing to work with you.”

“yes! i loved the music they made for this movie, they’re all beyond talented. it was great to meet them as well, super lovely guys,” you praised.

“were you a fan before?”

“yes i am actually, i saw them live on their tour last year so yeah, i’ve been a fan for a while.”

your cheeks felt hot all of a sudden as you had a feeling where this was going.

“well, i think they were definitely fans of yours, or at least one of them was!” the interviewer prodded, smiling. you laughed shyly, not wanting to be the one to admit to anything in front of a live audience.

“ellie said you were her celebrity crush.”

“i heard, yeah,” you smiled down into your lap, trying to compose yourself.

“i think you’d made a cute couple,” the interviewer beamed and the crowd cheered. “they think so!”

“i um,” you stammered, “yeah she’s cute.”

you thought she was more than just cute! you had been a fan of her band for a couple of years and had swooned over the way her skilled fingers plucked her guitar strings over and over again. the outfits she wore. the way she sits with her knees apart and hands clasped together in interviews. the smiles and smirks she has whilst on stage. the tiktok edits you had saved.

“well make sure to invite me to the wedding,” the interviewer laughed. you shyly nodded, trying to stifle the wide grin that wanted to take over your face. you almost hoped ellie wouldn’t see this but there was no doubt that she would… she did, and she had a shit-eating grin on her face the entire time.

#anon requests 🌷#ellie williams drabble #rockstar!ellie x actress!reader #rockstar!ellie williams x actress!reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x reader #ellie x you #rockstar ellie williams #ellie williams fluff #spaceshipellie asks #ellie x y/n #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams oneshot

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wolfjackle-creates · 8 months

Note

Ask Game:

8. "Who did this to you." and 24. Showing up at friend/mentors house.

With hurt Danny and any/all of the Bats.

Okay, but holy shit, you have no idea how perfect this one is. I was imagining a scenario with both of these earlier today. This is an alternate version of Bring Me Home where Danny and Tim were online friends from the time they were preteens. The actual fic will not go this way, so I'm so excited to have an excuse to share this version with y'all.

Nonny, I absolutely love you for sending these two in (no romo).

For those who don't follow Bring Me Home. Tim's username was IKnowYourSecrets and Danny often calls him "Secrets." Danny's username was -xXPolarisXx- and Tim will call him "Polaris."

And for everyone, Sam and Tucker ended up with codenames after all their adventures in Amity. Sam is referred to as Regrowth and Tucker as Pharaoh. This will come up later in Bring Me Home, but hasn't yet (mainly bc what I'm writing now takes place before those events).

Word Count: 1.2k

-----

Danny's vision blurred and he felt himself fall a dozen feet. He clutched his stomach tighter and grit his teeth against the pain.

He was almost there. He could make it.

With the last of his strength, he shot an ectoblast into the sky and fell a few more feet, hitting the roof of a building. He scrapped along the rough surface and the only reason he didn't scream was because he couldn't catch his breath enough to. Everything hurt.

He couldn't even push himself up and so just lay there, trying and failing to catch his breath. Not even when he heard a strange noise and footsteps behind him could he move. He tensed as much as possible.

"Who are you?" asked a man.

Danny just groaned. He hurt. He needed Tim.

The footsteps got closer and Danny opened his eyes. When had he closed them? He saw black boots and skin-tight leggins.

Then the man was kneeling. Blue accents on his chest, a domino over his eyes.

Danny let out a sigh. It tasted of ectoplasm. "Ni-win," he slurred.

"So you know who I am, who are you? What happened? How can I help?"

"R— R'bin. Know me."

"You're looking for Robin?"

His vision was going dark. "R'bin. Yea. Secrets. Friends."

"I'll get Robin here. Can you tell me your name?"

"Polaris. Tell—" Danny coughed weakly and spat out more ectoplasm. "Tell 'im, 'M ready to accept 'is offer."

"I will," promised Nightwing.

The blackness crept in further. Danny could hear Nightwing still talking, but couldn't make out the words. Everything was getting fuzzy. But he was in Gotham. Tim was here. Tim would make it all better. He let go.

---

Despite the quiet night, Tim was tense. He couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong. So when Dick's panicked voice came over the comms asking Damian about a secret friend, he was already pulling up Dick's location.

He was on the roof of Tim's civilian apartment building. Which, what?

"I do not have any secret friends," came Damian's reply.

"He's a meta. Caucasian with white hair. He's hurt bad, bleeding everywhere. Lazarus green blood—"

Tim's blood ran cold and he wished he could grapple faster. "Fuck! I'm heading to your location now. He's my friend, not Robin's. Bring him into my apartment. He needs specialized medicines and I've a supply."

"He called himself Polaris. Said he's ready to accept your offer," said Dick.

"Shit. Fuck. Okay. Eta, fifteen minutes."

"I'll get him inside."

"Don't try to treat his injuries," Tim ordered. "Human treatments won't work."

"Understood."

"And..." Tim hesitated, "Did he say how he was injured?"

"No. He passed out before he could."

Tim cursed again, but didn't reply further, despite the way the rest of his family demanded information. If it was the GIW, he'd need to arrange extraction for Sam and Tucker. But if it was Danny's parents... Well, he might just cross a line he swore he'd never cross when he first put on the Robin suit.

Fifteen minutes later, he was sliding the window to his apartment open. Dick had Danny laid out on the floor and was stripping him and pulling away loose bandages, revealing a large Y-shaped incision on his chest.

Dick looked up at him, face grim. Tim didn't let himself pause to look and ran to his bedroom and threw open his closet door. He slid open a hidden compartment revealing a safe and, with shaking fingers, punched in the code. The door swung open and he grabbed the silver-and-green case inside.

He rushed back to Danny's side. "Who did this to you?" he mumbled as he took stock of the injuries.

"Do you have any idea who might've wanted to hurt him?" asked Dick.

"With these wounds, it would be either the GIW or his parents." Tim bit back a hysterical laugh. "Been trying to get him away from them for three years now, but he swore they'd be okay once they realized who he was. Idiot." Tim bit his lip. He couldn't cry right now. He opened the case and pulled out gloves and antiseptic and began cleaning the wounds. "Dick, I need you to contact Superboy, Impulse, and Wonder Girl. Tell them Phantom's hurt bad and Regrowth and Pharaoh may need immediate extraction."

"Okay." Dick was already typing away on his phone. Moments later, it started ringing and Dick answered it on speaker.

Cassie's voice came over, "Red Robin, what's going on?"

"Phantom's been vivisected. He passed out before he could share the culprits. We're at my apartment in Gotham. If it was the GIW..."

"I'm sure Impulse is already there. I need to go home and grab my deflector first, but I'm going to get to Amity as soon as I can. We'll keep you updated."

"Thanks. Phantom's in bad shape. I don't..."

"Rob, you know what to do. We've known this was a risk for three years. You've talked to Frostbite and Regrowth and Phantom about how to best care for traumatic wounds. You're going to make sure he pulls through this."

Tim's eyes burned, but he kept working. Almost done and then he could start with the stitches. "Thanks."

"Anytime, Rob."

The call disconnected and Tim took a shaky breath. Time to start the stitches. They'd come directly from Frostbite and the thread glowed a bright, ectoplasm green.

"Tim," Dick's voice was tight, "Why do you have a case filled with Lazarus water and Lazarus-green supplies?"

"Not Lazarus water." He didn't bother explaining more. He laid the thread along the wounds and willed it to close the wound.

The thread obeyed, breaking into small pieces and sewing the skin together on his own. For the first time since he realized Danny was hurt, he smiled. Ghost medicine definitely made this part easier.

With the major injury taken care of as best as possible, Tim began checking over the rest of Danny. He had a bad burn on his left thigh, new electricity marks on his right shoulder, and his right ankle was either badly sprained or broken.

So he set to cleaning those as best he could. Creams then bandages covered the burns. The splint he laid along the ankle set itself just like the stitches had.

Dick tried to help, but Tim brushed him aside. It'd take too long to explain what had to be done.

Eventually, Dick got up and walked away. He could hear him in the kitchen area messing around in the fridge and reporting the situation over the comms, but he ignored it.

Finally, everything was categorized and bandaged to the best of his abilities. Now, for the final step. He pulled out a syringe shining bright with ectoplasm and stabbed it into a mostly-uninjured area of Danny's thigh.

Danny's back arched off the ground and he gasped, eyes flying open.

Tim leaned over him, "Danny, it's okay. You're safe now. You made it."

"Tim," gasped Danny.

"Yep. You made it. Can you tell me who did this to you?"

Danny closed his eyes and breathed out. "Mom and Dad."

Tim grasped Danny's hand. "Danny..."

Danny squeezed back. He opened his eyes and met Tim's gaze. "Still have that spare room for me?"

"I've had it since the day you died, idiot. Welcome home."

Danny gave a small smile even as tears tracked down his cheeks. "I'm home."

-----

Okay! That ended up being both longer and shorter than I thought it'd be. Hope you all enjoy. Thanks again for sending the prompt, Nonny! And the rest of you, feel free to keep sending some in. I'm off tomorrow and should be able to fill one or two. Any others I can work on over the course of the week.

For now, it's bedtime.

#dpxdc #ask game #prompt fill #bring me home au #au of an au #my writing #angst #danny fenton #tim drake #injuries #vivisection aftermath

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aalyssah · 9 months

Text

Sheild Members When They Hurt You During An Argument

Characters: Dean Ambrose, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins. Fem!Reader. She/Her pronouns used.

Word Count: 5,568

A/N: I know this isn't really a headcannon, but I've been wanting to this for months. Btw, I don't really like this and I might delete it later. It depends on how it goes. Hope You Enjoy!

Dean Ambrose:

You walked around the kitchen with a stressful look on your face.

Your boyfriend Dean went out for drinks with his boys' Seth and Roman after a win against the Wyatt Family.

You decided to stay home since you were so tired, but stayed up in hopes the Dean would come home, but it's been over 2 hours and he's still yet to come. You called and texted him, but he didn't pick up, nor did his friends.

You started to get worried and was ready to get up and go look for him your damn self, but the sight of car lights caught your attention.

You looked out the window, watching as Dean stumbled out the car with Roman and Seth by his side. They say their goodbyes and head off. You stand at the door with an angry look on your face as he walks in.

He closes the door and locks it behind him. "Oh hey babe, why do you look so mad?" You gave him a glare, arms crossing over your chest. "Oh, I don't know, maybe because my boyfriend stayed out for 2 hours drinking and did not answer any single one of my calls or texts!"

Dean looked at you unfazed, passing by you to the fridge. "Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you!" You followed him as he went to the couch. He cracked open a beer and took a sip. "Oh no, no, no, you're not gonna drink more after all the alcohol from the bar."

You snatched it out his hand. "Hey, give me that back!" You shook your head stepping back. "No, no more beer." Dean groaned, but was happy once he grabbed the remote.

He was about to turn it on his show, but you grabbed that too. "And no TV. You think you're gonna come back home from the bar, after 2 hours, drink beer, and blast your show? I think not."

Dean finally got up, annoyed. "Come on Y/n, give it back." He tried grabbing it from your hand, but you backed away. "No Dean, you've had enough!" You refused to give the beer and remote back. "I said, Give. It. Back!" You felt your world freeze as Dean's hand came into a fist and hit the side of your face.

The beer and remote dropped from your hands, the glass shattering on the floor and batteries flying out the remote. You slid down against the wall, looking up at while holding your face. "All you had to do was give it to me, and you wouldn't be on the floor."

Dean then walked away, going back to the fridge and grabbing a new beer. You stood up in disbelief and rushed out the house, snatching the car keys on the way. You weren't about to let him disrespect you like that. You ended up driving to your friend Aj's house and slept there.

The morning when Dean woke up, he had a huge headache. He didn't know where he was, when he looked around he saw he was in the bed fully clothed. He got up and looked around the house to notice you weren't there.

He didn't remember you saying anything about going to the arena. Come to think about it, he doesn't remember anything from last night.

Maybe you went to the gym. He went to the fridge and grabbed a beer. While he walked to the couch he noticed the remote on the floor, and the batteries nowhere to be seen. As well as a broken glass on the floor and that's when it hit him.

The glass fell from his hands as he sped through the house in search of his phone. "Oh fuck, shit, oh my god." He grabbed his phone and instantly called you, but you didn't pick up. He ran a hand over his face, letting out a sigh. He didn't know what to do.

He decided to call Seth for some advice. "Hey Deano, what's up? How ya feeling after last night?" Dean was quick to answer. "Man, I fucked up bad." Seth took notice of Dean's stressed voice. "Why, what happened?" Dean explained everything that happened and how you left.

"Dean, you're such a dumbass! You're lucky she didn't break up with you!" Dean stayed silent like a boy getting scolded by his Mom. "Don't say that please. I feel really bad, and I need y'all's help getting her back." Seth rubbed his forehead. "Okay, let me call Roman and tell him the situation."

The boys ended up meeting at a restaurant to talk things over. "I can't believe you actually hit her Dean, what were you thinking?" Roman scolded Dean. "I-I don't know. I was drunk, and I just wanted more, but she was nagging me and wouldn't let me get it.

Dean leaned back, his shaky voice known to his brothers. He bit at his nails while his leg bounced up and down. They could tell he was worried. Worried about his relationship. "Okay, what does she like?" Dean looked at them confused.

"What do you mean?" Roman shrugged his shoulders. "Well, what does she like to do? Does she like going out?" Dean quickly shook his head 'no.' "Oh no, she hates being in public, especially with all the fans." Roman took note of that in his head.

"Okay so inside. In your relationship, who does all the cooking?" Dean pouted. "Her, why?" A smile came to Seth and Roman's face as they looked at each other. "Good, because that means you're gonna cook her a homemade meal, all by yourself."

Dean's face planted onto the table. "No, I hate cooking." Roman slapped him on his neck. "Nope, you're gonna cook dinner, and apologize to her." Dean nodded his head, but knew deep down inside that he didn't want to, but he'd do anything to get you back.

Dean came back home to a dark, cold, empty house. It's never been like this. Usually it's a bright, smelling good, and full of energy, but with you gone it feels empty.

He went to the kitchen and fished him something to eat, which there were many options, but he didn't know how to cook that. You were always the one to cook for him. He grabbed a beer on the way and went to bed.

1 Week Later

It has been a week and Dean decided to get his act together. Cleaning the house, learning how to cook, he was ready for you to come back to where you belong.

Home.

He called you and to his surprise you answered. "Uh, hi." You sounded awkward as you spoke. "Hey, I just wanted to know if you could come back home. I need to show you something. I totally understand if you're not ready, or if you don't. Wanna talk to me again, but-" You cut off his rambling.

"Yeah Dean, I'll come back. Just give me an hour or 2." You hung up, leaving a smiling Dean. He quickly rushed to the room, fishing out the new outfit Seth and Roman got him.

You unlocked the door, Aj following behind you. "Aj, I'll be fine, you can go home now." You tried reassuring your friend. Dean walked around the corner with a bouquet of roses in his hand. "You." Aj pointed at him, walking close to him.

"If you ever land another hand on her, I swear I'll kick your ass. She came to my house at 2 in the morning, crying about how you got drunk and then punched her. You've got some big balls to hit on a woman like that!"

You gently dragged Aj away, forcing her to look at you. "It's okay, if things go bad, I'll call you, okay?" Aj gave one last look to Dean and then nodded her head. "Fine, but call me before you go to bed." You sent her off, letting out a sigh of relief.

"Sorry about her, she's just been really protective ever since- the incident." You took your jacket off and set it on the hanger. "These are for you." Dean held the bouquet out, allowing you to sniff them. You took a sniff, smiling at the smell. "I picked them today."

You set them aside and sat in the chair as Dean held it out. He went to the kitchen and got the plates before serving you both. "I made this earlier. It's just Lasagna." You both dug in, letting out a surprise sound at the taste.

"Oh my god Dean, this tastes good." Dean took in your compliment, continuing to eat. It was silent between the two of you except for some small talk on what you've been doing at Aj's house. Dean set the fork down , the loud clattering known.

"Look Y/n, we both know the real reason why I called you over here." You put your fork down, giving him your attention.

"I know what I did was wrong, but I need you to know that I love you. Even though what I did was unacceptable, and would make any woman leave, hell, even call the police. You don't gotta believe me, or feel any sympathy for my apology. I just want you to know I'm sorry, and that I'll always love you."

You looked at Dean with an unfazed look, almost taunting him. "I don't wanna beg, but I cooked for you, I cleaned the whole damn house, I even went and got out a new outfit, and let me tell you, this is so not my style. Isn't this showing you that I'll do anything to save our relationship?"

You looked at him thinking deep down. He did all this stuff that everyone knows he would never do. He's taking huge risks just to stay and be with you.

"What can I do? I'll call Vince and tell him to take me off work for a couple of months, I'll stop the arguing with you, he'll, I'll even stop drinking, please don't leave me!" Dean then broke down at his last sentence, tears gathering to his eyes.

He quickly wiped them away, not wanting you to see him cry. You huffed, standing up and walking towards him. You took him in your arms, letting his head rest against your chest as you scratched at his scalp. "It's okay, Dean. I forgive you, don't cry." Dean wrapped his arms around your waist and squeezed the life outta you.

He couldn't lose you over alcohol. He'll change just to be with you.

Roman Reigns:

Tonight was a very important night for Roman. He has a chance to win the United States Championship against Rusev tonight.

You walked in the locker room and saw the whole Shield sitting down talking. "Hey guys, is it okay if I come in?" They nodded their heads and you sat next to Roman. "Hey baby, how are you feeling about tonight?" You asked, rubbing up and down his tattooed arm.

"Excited, but nervous. I don't wanna lose. Who knows when I'm gonna get another shot at a title?" You frowned at his negative talk. "Hey, don't talk like that. You're gonna go out there, kick ass, and win. Win that belt for the WWE Universe, win it for Seth and Dean, and most importantly, for me."

He smiled at your mini speech, kissing your cheek. "Yeah, you're right." He let out a sigh, closing his eyes. "Don't take offense, but I don't want any of y'all coming out there tonight. I need to focus." The boys nodded in agreement, but your face scrunched up. "You don't want me out there?"

Roman looked at you, seeing somewhat of a hurt expression. "Don't take it like that. I love you, but you can't be out there. Rusev might use you as an advantage, or you could be a distraction." Your mouth dropped open, you standing up fast.

"Why would you think I would be a distraction, let alone let Rusev use me against you? Do you not trust me?" Roman shook his head. "No Y/n, you know what I mean, stop trying to make it something it isn't." You grabbed your bag, walking to the door.

"Fine, good luck winning the belt. I'll show you I'm not a distraction!" Roman called out your name, but you were already walking down the hall. Roman brushed your reaction off, getting up and going to the gorilla for the match.

You and the boys did what was told, sitting back in the locker room and watching his match. Fans were excited for this, wanting Roman to shut Rusev up. "You think he's gonna win?" Dean asked, watching as Roman hit Rusev with a closeline. "He's gotta focus, and not let Rusev overpower him."

Seth reasoned, eyes growing wide when he saw Lana running down the ramp. "Wait, what's Lana doing?" You perked up at the question, watching as Lana ran down the ramp in her white heels.

Lana got in the apron, yelling at the referee, grabbing his attention. "Oh hell no." Before Seth and Dean could stop you, you ran out the door, and into the entrance way. Fans cheered as you came running, swiping Lana's leg from the apron, her face slamming on the mat.

The referee began yelling at you two to break it up. "Y/n, what are you doing out here?!" You heard Roman yell as you beat Lana down. "Did you not understand what I-" Roman's sentence was cut off when Rusev turned him around, and hit him with a Machka Kick.

Rusev tugged at the referee to count and that was it.

"1, 2, 3."

You looked up in shock seeing Roman on the ground, holding his head while Rusev grabbed his title and exited the ring. You quickly slid in, to Roman's side and Lana and Rusev stalked up the ramp with a smile.

Boo's could be heard around the arena as they taunted you and Roman. Roman staggered to his feet, breathing hard. "Ro, are you okay?" You tried putting a hand on his arm, but he shrugged you off, leaving the ring without a glance back to you.

'Oooos' erupted as Roman walked away, leaving you in the ring.

You followed after him backstage. "Roman wait!" Roman kept walking, ignoring your voice. "Ro, baby, stop walking so fast." Roman made it to the locker room, Seth and Dean, nowhere in sight.

"Okay, now that we're alone, we need to talk about this." Roman's head snapped to you, anger in his eyes. "No, WE don't need to talk about anything. You had one job, one fucking job and you couldn't do that. I said DON'T come out there, and what'd you do? You came out there."

You flinched at the loud tone of his voice. "Roman, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't know you were watching me. Maybe if you were watching Rusev and not me, you would've won." Your tone came firm at your statement, watching as Roman slowly walked to you. "What did you just say to me?"

You opened your mouth to repeat it. "I said if you were watching Rusev instead of me, you would've won." You felt bold saying it, but all your confidence flew out the window when Roman's hand came to your throat, cutting your air circulation off.

"Watch how you talk to me! I told you not to come out there! Listen to me when I tell you something!" Your hand was around his wrist, squeezing and tugging for him to release you. He eventually did, walking away to the bathroom. You looked at where he was in disbelief, holding throat.

He just hurt you.

Without any words in your throat, you left out, running down the hall to your friend Paige. You knocked on the door repeatedly, tears in your eyes. She opened the door with a worried face. "Y/n, why are you crying, come in!"

She tugged you in her locker room, sitting you down on the couch and grabbing water. "What happened? Talk to me." It took you a moment, but you got it out. "He choked you?" You nodded your head, showing her your neck, the large handprint..

"This isn't good, Y/n. You need to leave him, call the police, tell Vince, do something!" You were quickly to disagree with her words. "No! I can't. I love him." Paige looked at you like you were crazy. "Y/n listen to yourself! He just choked you, he could've killed you and you want to stay with him?"

Your head hung low, as you answered. "I know what he did was wrong, but he was mad. We all go a little mad sometimes, don't we?" You tried to get a laugh at the famous movie quote, but there was no smile cracking from Paige. "I'm serious, this is no time to joke around. Imma go talk to him." You just sat there as Paige left the room, knowing you couldn't stop her.

Paige didn't knock on Roman's door, busting right open to see him sitting on the couch. "Roman fucking Reigns, you're a real bitch!" Paige went crazy, slapping him, until she was out of breath. "Well, I deserved that."

Paige gave him a look. "You think? Who do you think you are to be choking any girl? Especially when it's your girlfriend. Y/n has done NOTHING to you, but supports you. She was trying to help."

Roman sat there silent like a kid getting scolded by his teacher. "If you weren't so busy yelling at her and watching Rusev you probably would've won the belt." Roman groaned, hands covering his ears. "Stop, Y/n said the same thing!"

Paige let out a breath. "She's right. Why did you choke her? You should've just yelled at her, told her to leave you alone." Roman quickly added, "And I did. I told her that I needed some space and I didn't want to talk to her, but she kept pushing me."

It was silent between the two. "You're lucky she didn't tell Vince or call the police." She was about to leave the room, but he stopped her. "Paige, tell her we need to talk when she's ready, please?" Paige listened to him and left to you.

The moment she opened the door you stood up. "What happened? What did you do? What did he say?" She gently pushed you backwards so you landed on the couch. "Woah, calm down, I just talked to him." You waited for her to continue.

"He said he kept telling you he needed space and for you to leave him alone, but you wouldn't stop." You nodded your head. "I just wanted to help him calm down." You sadly said, rubbing your hands over your face. "He also said he wants to talk to you when you're ready."

You looked at her when she said that. "Should I?" Paige shrugged her shoulders. "It's up to you. That's your relationship. If you wanna stay with him go talk to him, but if not you need to tell him." You took in her words, thinking hard. "I need some time."

Time turned into a week. You really thought hard about this. You love Roman with everything in you, but is he worth the risk of your life? You got up and dressed and went to his home, knocking on the door.

The door opened revealing a tired looking Roman. Dark bags under his eyes, he smiled. "Hey." You returned his smile. "Hello." He stepped aside, letting you in. You walked in, sitting on the living room couch. "Do you want something to eat or drink?" You politely declined, and he joined you.

The room was quiet for a few seconds before you decided to speak up. "We don't need any foreplay. We both know what happened last week." He nodded his head in agreement. "I've had a week to think about us, but I wanna hear your plea first."

Roman cleared his throat. “I know I should've never put my hands on you, especially to choke you, but I wasn't in the right state of mind that night. You were there after I told you not to, I got distracted, and lost my temper. And I'm not using that as an excuse. I can see if you don't wanna be with me, let alone friends. I'm supposed to protect you. I promised your parents to protect you with everything in me, only for it to be me who’s hurting you. I just feel like I'm such a shitty boyfriend."

A frown came to your face as he continued to speak. "You should just break up with me, call the police, tell Vince to fire me. I ain't no man." You scooted closer to him, cupping his cheeks in your hand.

"Listen to me Ro, even though you did something that is unacceptable, that doesn't change the fact that you're a great boyfriend. I'm sorry that I was trying to help after you told me not to, but I just wanted to be useful to you."

You both sat in silence, taking in each other's words. “I wanna stay with you, but we gotta take things slow, like turtle slow. I need to regain my trust. I was so scared that day. I thought you were gonna kill me.” Roman’s eyes grew wide at your confession. “I would never, but I can see why.”

You ran your hand over his knuckles. “Just take it slow, real slow.” He kissed your knuckle as a thank you.

Seth Rollins:

You walked down the halls, making your way to Seth's locker room.

You just finished an important match that's giving you an opportunity for the Divas Championship.

You opened the door to see Seth sitting on the couch typing on his phone, and TV off. "Hey baby, did you see my match?" You asked, breathing heavy.

Seth grumbled a response, continuing to type away. "Seth?" Seth ignored you, eyes still glued to his phone. "Seth!" Seth's eyes snapped up to you. "What!?" He screamed just as loud as you. "Did you hear me?" Seth stood up, nodding his head.

"Yeah, something about going to the catering? Look, I have to go meet a friend, I'll talk to you later." He placed a kiss on your cheek and walked away.

You stood there looking confused. What was on his phone? Why did all of a sudden he had to go 'meet a friend?' Why couldn’t he tell you who it was? You brushed your questions off and decided to take a shower to cool down and get the sweat off you.

You washed up and made your way to the catering. You walked in and saw Roman and Dean sitting at the corner table, Dean devouring a plate of pizza. "Hey boys." Roman greeted you and Dean waved. "Damn Dean, is it good?" You giggled as he grunted. You looked around the room for Seth.

When you got out of the shower he said he would be here. "Have you guys seen Seth?" Roman answered, "Yeah, he was here before you came, but left after getting a text or something." You stayed silent, taking in the information Roman told you. Again with the phone thing and leaving.

Just then Seth walked in, taking a seat next to you. "Hey guys, what are we talking about?" Dean cut in. "Oh, we were talking about how you were-" You quickly stopped Dean from talking. “About how good you're gonna be in your match next week."

You awkwardly laughed, smiling at Seth's suspicious look. "Anyways, when I was on my way here I overheard some staff members talking about how Donald Trump is supposed to-." Seth didn't finish his story before Becky came up to him, tapping him on his shoulder.

"Seth, can we talk?" Everyone's attention went to Becky as Seth looked at her. "Yeah, let's go somewhere more private." Without hesitation he stood up, going with her.

It was silent as you and the boys wondered what just happened. "Did Becky just take our boy away?" Dean asked, breaking the silence. "Yeah, yeah she did." Roman said, chuckling in disbelief. "Guys, I know this might sound crazy, but I think Seth might be cheating on me."

Dean and Roman looked at you like you were crazy. "I know, I know, you may be thinking 'why?' It's because he's been glued to his phone recently, not watching my matches, and I have a feeling it's with Becky." You sighed, running a hand over your face.

This was all too stressful for you right now. "I think I'm gonna head to the hotel early, I'll talk to y'all next week." The boys let you go, seeing sadness in your eyes.

Next week came around the corner and boy were you excited. The chance to win the title against Aj was here. You've trained for this day to come and now that it's here you can't wait.

You were standing at the gorilla with Seth, Roman and Dean, doing your stretches. "Don't stress out, okay? You're gonna win that title for yourself." Roman said, shaking you by the shoulders. "And for us!" Dean added, a laugh erupting from all of you.

Seth was about to say something, but his phone dinged. "Oh guys I gotta go, good luck babe." He left, walking down the hall. You watched as Seth walked away, a sad look on your face. "Hey, focus on your match and then you'll get back to him." You nodded your head continuing your stretches until it was time.

It seems like their pep talk did wonders because you came up winning the title. You were crying with tears of joy, standing up tall with the title. Aj sat on the mat, throwing a fit while screaming, but you didn't care. You just won your first ever title.

You stayed out for a while before heading backstage. The first people who met you were Dean and Roman. Dean engulfed you in a hug, squeezing you tightly. "Dean, please let me go. You're squeezing the life outta me." Dean compiled, letting you go following a hug from Roman.

"We're so proud of you. You got your first ever gold while being in the shield!" You smiled thanking them once more. "Have you guys seen Seth?" Their smiles dropped fast. "No. He hasn't come back since you left." A frown came to your face. He was probably watching the match from his locker room. "It's okay I'll go see him."

You entered his locker room, seeing he wasn't there. "Seth?" You called out, looking around. You spot his phone on the table. You picked it up, it turned on when a notification came up. It was Becky texting him. You tried to open his phone, but it was locked with a password.

You then tried to open it with his password, but it didn't work. He changed it? You were too invested in his phone that you didn't hear Seth's footsteps coming to you. "Y/n, what are you doing with my phone?" You turned around seeing him. "I won my match!" You showed him your title, with a smile.

"Okay, now please give me my phone." Your smile dropped when you noticed he didn't care. "Seth, can I ask you something?" His eyes didn't meet yours, with them on his phone. "If I get my phone back, yeah." You let off a breath before asking. "Are you cheating on me with Becky?"

Seth froze as he heard you. "What? Why would you think that?" You dryly chuckled. "You've been glued to your phone like it's your heart. You're always texting her and then leaving, so I'm gonna ask again. Is it Becky?"

You could see anger in his face. "No! I'm not cheating on you. Now give me my phone back!" He reached for it, but you backed away. "No, I don't believe you. Just tell me the truth!" Seth took a deep breath, inching closer to you. "I'm not gonna tell you again, give it back."

You held the phone farther from you. "No, if you're cheating on me I-" You stopped talking when Seth pushed you back, grabbing his phone. Your whole body fell backwards, slamming into the glass table behind you.

The loud thud and glass shattering caught the attention of Seth. You winced in pain as the glass stabbed your skin, blood leaking from your body. Seth dropped his phone. "Y-y/n?" He slowly inched towards you, but you jumped in pain.

Knocks came to the door, following people entering the room. "Seth what did you do!?" Seth's attention turned to Roman and Dean and many other superstars who had the look of horror in their eyes.

He was pushed aside by Vince and Triple H when they came into the room. "Someone call an ambulance!" An ambulance shortly arrived, taking you on a stretcher while everyone looked on. "Seth, you gotta tell us what happened." Vince questioned Seth, but Seth couldn't speak.

His whole body was full of guilt. "I-I-" Dean stood up, getting in his face. "Tell us! Tell us what happened! Why was she covered in her own blood!?" Roman pulled him back, calming him down. "I-I pushed h-her." Silence filled in the room as Seth walked away.

He ignored the calls from people and kept walking. He needed to be alone.

It's been 2 days since you came to the hospital and the only people that had came to see you were Roman, Dean, your bosses, and parents. You were kind of bummed out that Seth hasn't come, but at the same time glad.

You don't know how you're gonna face him. A knock at the door made you sit up slightly. Walked in was a nurse with pills in a glass of water in her hands. "Hey Y/n, I need you to take your medicine." You took the pills, pushing the glass of water aside. "Just wanted to let you know that you have a visitor. Would you like them to come in?" You nodded your head, closing your eyes.

The nurse walked out and Vince came in. "Hey kid, how ya feeling?" You shrugged your shoulders. "In pain, but it's getting better. The doctor said it would take 2 or 3 weeks for all my cuts to heal." Vince took note of that. "Y/n, did you think he did it on purpose?"

You gave him a questioning look. "Push me?" Vince nodded his head. "Because if you think that, we can press charges, and maybe even fire him." You were quick to dismiss his choices. "No! Please don't! I don't think he did. He just really wanted his phone and I wasn't giving it to him."

Vince didn't know if he should believe you are not, but decided to anyway. "Alright, whatever you say. Imma go and let you get some rest." He left the room, leaving you alone. You stared up at the ceiling, thinking about everything that's happened this week.

When you woke up, you felt your hand being squeezed tightly. The sound of sobs came to your ears as you turned your head. It was Seth sitting in the chair, holding your hand while crying.

"Seth?" He jumped at the sound of your voice, standing up quickly. "S-sorry to bother you. I'll be l-leaving now." Before he could take 3 steps you stopped him. "Seth, don't go." He stopped in his tracks. "Sit." He compiled, sitting in the spot from earlier.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, looking down at your body littered with cuts and bruises. "50/50. Hurt, but not too bad." He watched as you sat up from your spot, giving him your full attention. "I'm pretty sure you know why I'm here."

You nodded your head. "There's no words that can describe how sorry I am. I didn't know there was a table behind you. I just wanted my phone, I didn't want you to find out!"

Your face turned into confusion at the last part of his sentence. "Find out about what?" Seth shook his head, sniffing the tears away.

"Me and Becky have been talking about ways to help our relationship out. I've been noticing how upset you've been looking and how drained you are, so I asked her for help since y'all used to be friends in NXT. It was supposed to be a surprise for our anniversary."

Your mouth dropped open in shock. That's why he's been so secretive. No wonder she's been asking you what things would make you happy and always talking to your parents behind your back. "Oh my Seth, I'm-'' Seth cut you off, knowing what you were gonna say.

"No, I should be the one apologizing. I lost my temper over my phone and look at where it got us." You let out a sigh seeing how hurt he was. Taking your hand in his and intertwining before giving a squeeze. “We can try again, but no more hiding phones, and let’s take it slow.” He thanked you repeatedly, kissing your hand. “Thank you, I promise I’ll be more honest with you.”

You both fell asleep that night in relief.

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dilfl0v3rss · 10 months

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aran fucking yn's shit up after he saw her purposely flirting with other guys😜

aran so mf fine yall like ughhhh😩😩

you had told this man over and over again that you did not want to be at this damn party. aran has been practicing nonstop and when he’s not practicing he’s playing in his matches so you wanted to take this night to spend time with your man, but of course he wasn’t having that. “ma we just beat our rivals, we gotta go” he said as he brushed his waves in the mirror. his muscular tattooed back facing you as he stood in just his sweatpants. you were in the bed, his t shirt covering most of your body as you sat on your knees staring at him. “pa i want us t’stay here tonightttt. let’s watch movies and have sex” you whined, making aran chuckle in the mirror before turning around and approaching you. his happy trail in your face as he held your head up by your chin. “we can watch movies and have sex another night mama. tonight we going to celebrate the win.”

now you were here, perched on your boyfriends lap as he talked about the highlights of the game with his teammates. “they was getting mad when me and aran kept scoring off of our serves” atsumu said, aran, osamu, and suna chuckling as they thought back to the game. “yea i saw them arguing in the middle of the court. looked like they was damn near ready to fight” aran said, his big hands rubbing up and down your thighs as he spoke. you doubt that he knew it, but he was making you incredible horny. his freshly faded hair along with his tight black shirt and grey sweats. his black cat jordan’s tapping on the floor as he spoke. his muscular brown arms with tattoos dancing along the skin and his big strong hands playing with the fat of your thighs. he was driving you nuts. you slowly leaned your head down to his ear, your tone sweat and low as you caressed the nape of his neck. “daddy i wanna fuck” you whispered.

all aran gave as a reply was a quick “later ma” before continuing on with his conversation. anger rushed through your veins as you quickly got up and walked away. “what’s wrong wit her?” atsumu mumbled as he watched you storm off deeper into the party. aran just rolled his eyes. “don’t worry bout it bro. she just in one of her moods” as aran continued on being a dickhead, you made your way to the kitchen for a couple drinks. “if ima be here all night i might as well” you mumbled as you poured yourself a hefty cup of what looked like pink whitney. you were halfway done with your cup when you realized you left your phone with aran. “fuck” you said as you began your journey over to him. however, you were stopped in your tracks as you witnessed a group of girls in his and his friend’s faces. atsumu was already making his way upstairs with two as well as osamu with another two while the other four were of course in your man’s face.

“we love watching you play, you’re so talented aran really!” one girl said, her group of friends nodding along to what she was saying, giggling as aran gave her a kind smile from his seat on the couch. “preciate it. glad y’all liked the show” you didn’t even care about the phone anymore. all you thought about was revenge as you went right to the dining room. some if his teammates were there playing pong so you knew it was the perfect place to get aran’s attention. “can i play?” you asked, your sweet voice catching the attention of almost every man in the room. “f’course y’can pretty. you on my team” a guy said. he was cute, tall, lightskin with curly hair. typical fuckboy, but you didn’t care. ‘must be on the football team’ you thought as you noticed the school logo they all got tattooed on his upper arm. you smiled as you approached him, telling him your name before the two of you approached the table.

of course aran’s teammates snitched on you. they were loyal to your boyfriend. plus, you needed them to tell anyways so you can carry out with your revenge. after you, and who you came to know as malik, won another game you raised your hands in the air, purposely bouncing your breasts in “excitement” before giving him a big hug. his muscular body making it hard for you to even wrap your arms around him fully. as the two of you released each other, you felt malik lightly tap your shoulder. “you wanna go upstairs” he whispered. your pretty face making him weak for you as he practically begged you to go with him with his eyes. you were going to shoot him down gently, but your words were cut off by the sound of a deep voice behind you. “nah she good, we boutta leave anyways” aran said, leaving no room for complaint as he took your arm and walked you out of the party.

“got me fucked up” he mumbled as he opened the passenger door for you to get in the car. you slowly sat down, waiting for him to get to his side before you opened your mouth to speak. without looking at you aran spoke instead. “don’t say nun. just take what i give you at the house” his words brought a smirk to your face as aran started his car and began driving the both of you home. the ride was silent and so was the walk into your bedroom. the only sounds coming from either of you were small clanks and clothes shuffling as you changed into one of his t shirts. “take that off” aran mumbled, eyes trained on you as he pointed at the black fabric covering your body. “why? i always wear your shirts to bed” you whined, earning you a stern look as aran made his way towards you. “you not going to bed”

before you could reply, the shirt was snatched off of you. aran pushed you down on the bed before slowly getting on his knees. “if you cum before i say, ima spank you” he mumbled before immediately getting to work. your back arched off the bed at the sudden action. the wetness of his tongue bringing a cool feeling to your clit as he payed close attention to your entrance. he fucked with with his wet mussel, aran’s long tongue giving you the most pleasure you’ve had in days as you kept your legs wide open for him. you moved your hands towards his hair, but they were pulled back down and held on your stomach by one of his hands. aran quickly got back to eating, this time focusing on your clit while breaching your entrance with two thick fingers.

he sucked on your clit delicately before flicking his tongue all around it. “fuck a-aran it feels so good” he replied with a “mhm”, the vibrations of his deep voice making your pussy flutter around his fingers. he knew you weren’t going to last much longer, so to punish you he worked harder. aran’s fingers moved deeper into you as he tongue kissed your clit. his wet tongue swirling all over the bud as he continued humming into your pussy. “shit….wait daddy m’finna….oh my god arannn” your orgasm hit you hard. your legs shaking rapidly as your release shot out of you and all over aran’s face. he stood up, dick fighting against the cotton of his sweats as aran walked towards his dresser.

too in a daze to understand what was going on, you mindlessly let him turn you on your stomach when he came back. ass high in the air as you instantly arched your back as deep as you could. “so needy” he mumbled before taking both of your hands and putting them behind your back. aran attached the fur handcuffs to your wrists before rubbing his big hands all over your ass. occasionally spreading you to get a good look at your awaiting pussy. “you like t’get me mad baby?” you figured now would be the best time to answer truthfully, the yearning for another orgasm clouding your brain as you quickly replied with the truth. “mhm….wanted you t’fuck me” a smile graced aran’s features as he listened to you snitch on yourself. you were such a slut for his dick you had no problem telling him all your sins in hopes that he’ll fuck you.

“so you flirting wit other niggas just so daddy could fuck this pretty pussy?” you replied with a quick “mhm” earning you a hard slap to your ass. aran would usually start of lighter and build up to harder slaps, but tonight he had no patience for it. a loud whine rang through the room as you wiggled your ass at the contact. the flesh already heating up from the force of his hand. he spanked you two more times, each so hard that you knew you’d have a big handprint there in the morning. “that’s not nice mama. if i say no, you supposed to be a good girl and respect that. not go out and be a brat so you could get what you want” you felt no remorse from his words and he could tell by the way your pussy began to leak as he spoke. you were just ready to get fucked. “m’sorry daddy” you said in a sultry tone, your arousal dripping down your thighs as you repeatedly clenched your pussy. aran smirked at the action, giving you another three hard slaps to each of your cheeks.

the volume of your whines increased as you grew restless from the lack of attention to your aching core. “daddy please fuck me. m’so wet please please please” there’s was nothing in this world aran wanted more than to fuck you silly right now. his dick was so hard his precum leaked through his boxers and sweatpants, a small wet patch pointed towards your pussy as if his dick were chasing you. “you gon be good f’me-” “yess! yes i’ll be so good f’you papa” you yelled into your pillow as you wiggled your ass in anticipation. aran slowly freed his dick from his sweats, his tip almost red from how neglected he’s left himself. his precum had the whole top half of him wet at he lined it up with your awaiting pussy. aran knew he shouldn’t be fucking you right now. he should be stroking himself to his release while keeping you face down in the pillow with nothing so you could learn to stop playing with him, but he was so weak for you sometimes it made him sick.

he sunk into you fully, giving you no time to adjust as he began hungrily pounding you into the mattress. he was just as pent up and horny as you right now and all he couldn’t think of was his release. “fuck fuck fuckk…ma you so damn wet” he groaned, his dick twitching repeatedly as he felt your wet walls clench around him. “daddy i love you so much….wont do it again shittt” aran knew you were lying through your teeth, but he couldn’t find it in him to care right now. fucking you with so much vigor your headboard began to slam into the wall. “s’my pussy right mama? say it f’me” the cuffs around your wrists clanked together repeatedly as you tried your best not to reach for him. he was just fucking you so good you needed something to grab. aran noticed this and once again, spoiled you by holding both of your hands in his. he began hitting you deeper, his dick hitting your g spot as you screamed out your response. “yesss fuckkk. this your pussy daddy please m’gonna cummm”

the constant stimulation to your g spot made your legs shake as your orgasm began to rush out of you. clear liquid flying everywhere, wetting aran’s six pack and some of his chest while the rest of it soaked the bed under you. the sight made him weak in the knees as he felt his dick twitch for the final time inside of you before he came as well. “shit ma” he moaned as he spilled his seed deep into you, heavy hand giving you light slaps on the ass while aran moaned about how much he loved you. before you knew it the both of you hit the bed, passed out in pure bliss.

aran was first to wake up, slowly removing the cuffs from your wrist and throwing them somewhere in the room before pulling your body onto his chest. you stirred awake, lifting your head a little to give him a kiss before laying back down his chest. “m’sorry for flirting with another guy. i really won’t do it again” you whispered but aran heard you. giving you a kiss on the forehead while rubbing his hand up and down your back. “s’okay ma, we can talk about it inna mornin” and gave him a quiet “kay” before kissing his chest and letting sleep take the both of you again.

#aran x black!reader #aran smut #aran ojiro x black!reader #aran x black reader #aran ojiro x black reader #aran ojiro x black y/n #aran x black y/n #aran ojiro smut #haikyu smut #haikyu x black reader #haikyu x black!reader #haikyu x black y/n

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