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buckyalpine · 4 months

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40's baby Bucky & baby Reader, Present Bucky x Reader, all the flufff, a lil angst but it just adds to the fluff, promise

Bucky sat under the tree with a very prominent pout on his chubby face, his arms crossed against his chest with his brows pulled together. He wasn't happy. Not one bit. Not after his favorite ball was kicked over a fence by the other neighborhood boys.

"Bucky, do you want to play with me?" You toddled over to your best friend hoping to lift his spirits after seeing him so grumpy only to be met with a huff.

"No! Go play with Stevie instead. Leave me alone!" He frowned, brushing you off and turning his back at you to sulk facing the tree instead.

"But-

"I don't want to play with you" Bucky grumbled. Your bottom lip wobbled, dropping your shoulders as you walked off and sat by yourself under some shade on your porch. You didn't have many friends being the youngest and only little girl on your street; Bucky and Steve being the only two who included you in their games.

"Bucky's mean" You picked up one of your dolls, setting her up beside you while you toyed with a wild flowers, doing your best to keep from sniffling after he shooed you away. You knew he was upset but you wanted to make him feel better!

Of course it didn't take long for Bucky to feel bad, peeking over to see your fallen face sitting all alone on the steps of your house, eyes wet with tears which you were desperately blinking back. He got a bad feeling in his little pudgy belly, knowing he wasn't very nice to you. He knew his ma wouldn't be very happy if she heard how he'd spoken to you, especially after you were just trying to brighten his mood. He got up from his place on the grass, nicking a few flowers from his garden before shuffling over to you only to be met with your now grumpy face, crossing your arms and turning away just like he did.

"I'm sorry y/n" Bucky came and plopped beside you, moving the doll away, while clutching onto a few pink tulips. You didn't respond, still mad at him for being mean to you when you'd done nothing wrong. "C'mon jellybean, pwease?"

His baby blues were shining bright as he gave you his best puppy eyes, hoping you'd forgive him. You felt a giddy at the name he called you, one he'd given you because he thought you were sweet like one. You turned to face him while he gave you a shy little smile, placing the flowers onto your lap.

"I brought you flowers" He stated proudly, happy at the giggle you let out, setting them aside before tugging at his hand to run off and play.

"Y'promise you'll come back?" your eyes were wet with tears again although you were now 20 years older and the chubby boy you grew up with had grown into a very handsome soldier. He stood before you in his clean and pressed uniform, his face shaven, hair neatly cropped.

"Of course doll" He whispered affectionately, letting his thumbs swipe across your cheeks, kissing away the tears that fell. "I'll always come back to you jellybean"

"You better" You sniffled, standing on your toes to chase more of his lips as he pressed them to yours, his hands wrapping around your waist, picking you up with ease.

"M'gonna come right back to you, safe n'sound" He held you for as long as he could, rocking you close to his chest while you fought back a sob, giving him a brave smile instead.

"I love you Jamie"

"I love you jellybean"

That was the last time you saw him.

"This is a bad idea"

"When have I ever had a bad idea" Tony scoffed, continuing to tinker with his quantum portal while Bruce looked over numbers.

"It's not stable enough Tony, if we send someone through this, they could get stuck in an alternate timeline or we could end up changing the future-

"Yea, yea, stop worrying, hand me that spanner"

Bruce sighed, handing over the tool while contemplating on the safest way to test the machine. It wasn't ready to handle anyone actually travelling through time but at the very least they could potentially open portals to the past.

"We gotta put in a location to see if this works-how about-" Tony contemplated on a location, his eyes growing wide with excitement when he spotted Steve's diary that he'd left behind in the lab, "Let's see if Captain has any interesting places from the 40's"

"Why wouldn't you just see if we could get to the compound garden" Bruce groaned while Tony flipped through the pages, typing in an address that had been scribbled in. It was from a list of places Steve wanted to visit again from when he was a child, the address of the person listed under friends. There was only one other person listed there other than Bucky.

"Alright, call the others, let's see if this baby works"

"You're going to get us all killed" Bruce shook his head while calling for everyone to come to the lab. By now everyone was used to Tony's antics; the only one who was genuinely giddy with excitement was surprisingly Bucky. One thing he'd always loved was science; even his stoic expression couldn't hide the twinkle in his eye every time he got to see another Stark experiment.

"Glad you all made it. Now, thanks to Cap, we're going to see if we can open a portal that travels back to the 1940's. I suggest you all stand back since I haven't actually tested this before"

"Why are you like this" Nat snorted while Tony waved her off, pushing a few more buttons before hitting start. Bucky watched from the safe sidelines of the lab as the machine began to vibrate, a low buzz growing louder until a portal roared to life that lead to the inside of someone's home. Bucky and Steve were both stunned from shock seeing a flash of a very familiar living room for no longer than a second before the whole thing closed with a bang and a large puff of smoke in its place.

"Well done Mr. Playboy billionaire dumbass" Sam wheezed while the team was left coughing, the room cloudy as the loud buzz began to dull. "What was the location you even put in-

Sam stopped talking midway when he heard another voice coughing followed by mumbling coming from the place where the portal closed. The smoke hadn't yet dissipated but the shadow of a person was slowly becoming visible. Everyone froze when they realized there was someone on the platform, wondering who could've been sucked through.

"Bruce, turn on the fan-" Bruce hit the lab fan which pulled helped with the smoke revealing a young woman in a flower printed dress. An apron was still tied around her waist, flour streaked across her cheeks, a rolling pin still in her hand. "What the-

"JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES"

Bucky thought he was going to collapse as soon as he saw who was on the platform, his heart fluttering madly in his chest. He couldn't control the blush that crept up on his cheeks, butterflies bursting in his tummy, just as they did all those years ago. The young woman stormed up to the soldier, face full of fury as her palm smacked his cheek (Not hard enough to actually hurt him of course).

"HOW DARE YOU"

Everyone else in the lab silently congregated to one side watching curiously though Steve was still utterly frozen seeing-

"Y-y/n? Doll?"

"Don't you doll me" you whacked his arm with your rolling pin, huffing when it clanged back after hitting metal. That didn't seem to faze you as you switched and hit the other arm instead, making Bucky yelp. "You lied!"

You dropped your makeshift weapon to the floor, moving your hands to your hips instead, looking up and down at the man you loved with your entire heart, the man who you mourned for years after you were told he was dead. He looked much different from when you'd last seen him, the most obvious difference being an entirely new arm. His cheeks were scruffy and it was clear some form of time travel had taken place but none of that mattered. None of that mattered when the love of your life was standing right there, alive and well.

"Oh baby, no-

"Absolutely not Barnes" you huffed at the pet name he gave you, crossing your arms over your chest and Bucky thought he'd melt into an absolute puddle at the sight. He was thrown back to when you were both no more than 4 years old, with a cute little frown on your face whenever you'd get upset. "You left! I thought you-I thought you died!"

The sound of your voice cracking broke Bucky's heart, his hands itching to wrap you up and pull you close to his chest the way you loved. He could see your eyes twinkle with tears threatening to spill out while you rapidly tried to blink them away. You chewed on your bottom lip to keep from wobbling and it only made Bucky yearn to hold you and never let go.

"Sweetheart please, I didn't mean to leave you doll, I promise" He stepped closer to you, hesitantly reaching out to take your hand in his, not feeling the slightest bit conscious about his metal arm. The coolness of his hand calmed your racing heart while you sniffled, still refusing to meet his eyes as you stared down at your feet instead.

The day you'd been told he'd never come back had been the worst day of your life. You wept for months on end, losing the man you were waiting to marry. The only person you'd been in love with since you were 4 years old.

Seeing you standing there before him stirred feelings in Bucky h never thought he'd feel again. Having a home. A beautiful wife. Little chubby babies. All with his dream girl he'd loved all his life. There wasn't a day that had gone by where he didn't think about her. He didn't think he'd ever get the chance again but here you were, dusted in flour like you always were whenever you were in the kitchen, in a pretty dress he loved so much, fighting your cries after desperately missing him. He softly cupped your cheeks, swiping away at your tears, his forehead coming down to softly rest against yours. He smiled through watery eyes at your stubborn nature, still keeping your arms crossed while his nose bumped with yours.

"Jellybean" Bucky whispered, your heart melting at the name, swallowing the lump in your throat, "Please? I-I'll- I'll bring you flowers" He said with a shaky voice, nearly toppling over when you flung yourself into his arms. He caught you, squeezing you right back and lifting you off the floor to cradle you nice and tight before pulling back to smash his lips against yours. The collective sniffles and whistles from the team were drowned out by your soft giggles and warm lips.

"I missed you so much" you buried your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him, the one that comforted yo the most.

"You have no idea how much I missed you jellybean, never letting you go again"

"Terminator, you wanna introduce us?" Tony was the first to speak up, not so subtly wiping away at his eyes while Bucky continued to look at you with heard eyes, introducing you to everyone. You could only wrap your head around so much at a time but nothing truly mattered now that you were back with your soldier.

And of course your other best friend.

"Steve" You giggled as Steve lifted you up with ease into a tight hug, grinning at his two friends finally getting the life they deserved together.

Seriously imagine how sickeningly cute these two would be. Bucky is so excited to teach you all about the future. He gets to show you how to use all the new technology around the compound. He's so naughty about it too, teasingly telling you he'd be happy to help you in the shower if there's any questions you has about water temperature.

He doesn't waste any time with asking to marry you. Its everything you've ever dreamed of and more considering Tony took the bill and ran. Bucky can't put into words how happy he is finally getting the life he thought was ripped from his hands.

On your wedding night, Bucky spends hours loving on you like there's no tomorrow which is why a few months later, your belly is swollen with your first baby. Bucky is thankful for the future because as excited as he is to start a family, he's scared shitless something could happen to his jellybean.

"Bucky, I'm fine-

"Absolutely not, why are you up Jellybean, go sit down, I'll bring breakfast to you"

"I can still walk y'know-

"Nope. You stay right there, don't move mama, just rest"

When you do have to move around, he's there holding your baby bump, feeling giddy over becoming a dad. He can't wait to meet his little baby that he's made with his dream girl.

After his son is born, he waits for your body to heal but no ones surprised to see you with a new bump not too long after.

Two baby boys are no match for all the avengers but they all happily share their god father and god mother duties.

Your third is a little girl and she's going to be spoiled by everyone.

Somewhere along the way, you get a white fluffy cat.

Bucky's life has never been better.

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evilminji · 1 month

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You know what idea has always ENCHANTED ME?

Ever since I saw it on a sci-fi show?

The Deadly Magical House That Loves You™. See, it's a house that has become something MORE. Gained sentience. And? Instead of acting out some cheap horror movie jump scares? It digs deep to its foundations, thinks long n hard, and decides on what it WANTS.

And it WANTS?

To be a HOME™.

To TAKE CARE OF somebody. Have LIFE in its halls. Meals at its tables. Joy and laughter bouncing across its walls. So? It lays a trap. Lures people in.

Come live in me~

I am a good home.

I am Free! I am "Safe". I will give you whatever your heart desires.

I care not for morality or laws. Boundaries or taboos. Do you desire? Come, come, be HAPPY~! Live in me! Relax here! Forget about the world beyond these walls. Anything I can not give you, I can bring TOO you! This is a Happy Home.

But, of course, such sentience and pushiness terrifies. People run and flee in horror. The house getting more aggressive. Trying to hold tighter. After all! If they would just STAY for a while, they would SEE! It's so LOVELY here! The would LOVE to live inside them!

But... instead?

They are hurt.

Doors smashed open. Windows broken to escape. Furniture thrown. Their avatar, Jeeves, bashed with heavy things. Why... WHY?! They are only trying to HELP! To LOVE them! Be a good HOME! They grow more and more run down. Starved. Wrathful.

It is, of course, their Obsession. To be a home. They are so very hungry.

When? Who should come along?

But the depressed AF Ghost King! He's been... not TECHNICALLY kicked out. But "things are tense" kicked out. He's tired. His college courses are remote. He can't really AFFORD rent. And everything is just...

He's TIRED.

He wants to cry.

Why... why can't he have ONE good thing? ONE sign everything's gonna be alright?

"Free House!"

Well... I mean... that IS a literal sign. Huh. He flies down. The house notices him. Tries to look as enticing as it can. And? Gasp! I... It's WORKING? This one seems INTERESTED? Quick! Flowerbeds! Look at my flowerbeds! Ooooh, lovely floooowers! A.. and there's probably really nice wood flooring! C'mon. C'moooon!

Danny? Sees a free Lair. Not too far from both Gotham AND Metropolis. Good location. Needs a little fixing up. But I mean... you can't beat free, right?

Is he really gonna do this?

......fuck it. Yeah, let's do this. First house time. He's just glad he carries a sharpie on him most of the time. Scribbles "Sold!" Over the sign then calls Jazz. He's... kinda not sure WHAT he's supposed to pack?

Finds out, post move in, whoop. Sentient Lair. Clingy, clingy, highly desperate sentient Lair. Oof. Guess fixing up the place can be therapy for both of us. Jazz helps.

The house heals. He falls into a routine. Schoolwork, hang out in the garden or the observatory, meals FaceTiming friends or watching videos, naps whenever he wants them. It's... it's so peaceful. Quiet and soothing to his agitated and worn down soul. Like a balm.

House gets him whatever he needs. They're kinda awesome like that. Always seems to have room to fit this or that. He doesn't question it. His brain figuring it works on Zone logic.

He probably SHOULD have.

Because? Things have been going missing. At a slow, steady, pace. Food, technology, entertainment. A building that shouldn't BE there, has been spotted in a wealthy county just outside of Superman and Batman's two cities.

No one can get near it.

It's been getting BIGGER.

Growing, like a tumor, room by room. Floor by floor. The gardens creeping like kudzu, to swallow everything in their path. Yet delivery drivers drop things off. Things they don't remember. On trips they don't recall. People are scared.

Amateur detectives have managed to discover some sort of starlit fae that lives there, along with a human boy.

Justice League Dark has been called in. Are currently standing just outside the slowly creeping property line. A garden statue just hissed at them. The trees are trying to throw acorns. A hushed argument has already broken out. How do they contain the house?

@the-witchhunter @nerdpoe @hypewinter @hdgnj @babbling-babull @mutable-manifestation @spidori @lolottes

#minji's writing #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt

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charliemwrites · 15 days

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There are men across the street.

The house (and you use the term generously) that slumps there has been vacant for some time now. Ever since you moved in a couple years ago, actually. It’s an eyesore for sure. Graffiti on the walls, boards on the windows, a basketball-sized hole in the roof. The porch is the worst of it. Sagging in the middle and crumbling on the ends, stripped and moss-encrusted wood.

But today there are men there, stomping up and down the groaning steps in big, steel-toed boots.

You watch for a bit from the safety of your kitchen window, sipping coffee and batting your cat off the counter. They don’t look like a normal construction crew - wearing all black and not so much as a hammer on their belts. Three of them that you can see, one about average height, one tall, and one very tall. The tall one tags after the shortest of them often, gets pushed and shoved and snapped at it seems like.

You lose interest when the coffee runs out and your phone chimes, shooing you off to the grocery store. All three have disappeared inside by the time you saunter out, keys jingling and reusable bags in hand.

Margot says they’re renovating - likely some rich man’s retirement project. The same thing happened just down the street six months before you moved in, and now Joe has solar panels.

She postulates over the situation across the street while taking delicate bites of the cheesecake she brought over. (A test recipe for her niece’s baby shower in a few weeks. You don’t tell her that it’s too sweet and just sip your tea between bites.) She hypothesizes that one of them is this hypothetical rich man’s son, bringing some handy friends around for extra hands to work.

It sounds about as plausible as Agatha’s mutterings that they’re drug lords, so you nod along and watch your calico sneak up on your tuxedo behind her.

The garden is your own little retirement project. (You’re not actually retired, no matter what your sister snipes. But some smart money moves and a successful writing career is virtually the same with no kids and no spouse.) It’s going about as well as the renovations across the street - which is say, better and quicker than expected.

You planted clover in the yard, and are working on wildflowers in the boxes. The clover is already blooming, little flower tufts springing up for bumblebees to perch on. The wildflowers are mixed success so far, but nothing is dead yet.

You mostly just tootle around to be outside - allotted sunshine lest you become the shut in Bertram accused you of your first couple months.

The cats watch you pick at weeds from the window. Or two of them do. The other one is glaring from the fridge, angry that you tossed her back inside when she tried to slip past your ankles. (With any luck, you’ll have another sibling for them soon, but the handsome orange thing that keeps coming by at dawn and dusk is too stupid to be caught.) All three of them shift to look at something over your shoulder.

“Excuse.”

You don’t startle, thankfully. The voice may be unfamiliar, but neighbors stop by consistently enough that you’re not surprised to have your solitude interrupted.

What you are surprised by is the tall (very, very tall) man standing at the edge of your front yard. One of the renovators.

“Hi,” you say, straightening.

He points a gloved finger at you - no, not at you. Past you. At your cats.

“May I see them?” He asks in a thick German accent.

You blink, surprised and confused.

He’s a big man. Not just unusually tall, but broad as well. Muscle tugs at the fabric of his shirt, cargo pants clinging to his thighs. He also hasn’t bothered to take off the heavy duty dust mask, black sunglasses, or jacket hood obscuring his features. Looks like he’s about to rob you, honestly.

But Agatha’s uncharitable muttering about delinquent men rings like a warning toll. You’re at risk of sinking into the judgmental sea of upper-middle class suburbia, and that’s not water you want to tread.

“Sure!” You reply, ignoring his lack of introduction. “One sec.”

The cats see you dart from view and hurry to meet you at the door, meowing and yowling. You crack it open only wide enough to snatch up your precious firstborn, his leggies sticking out in abject bafflement at being airborne. You make guilty eye contact with your other two fiends before swiftly wedging the door shut again.

Then adjust your son, his little paws resting on your shoulder as you turn. Your visitor is standing right where you left him, perks up when he sees the cat bundled in your arms.

“This is Guy.”

You step closer, ignoring that shred of nervousness that being close to any man (especially one so physically intimidating) brings. To his credit, he only shuffles just enough to offer his hand for inspection.

“Guy?” he asks.

“I wasn’t going to adopt him at first, so I just called him Little Guy for so long that he thought that was his name. And then I did adopt him and now he won’t answer to anything else.”

You come by the rambling honestly - an obligate introvert until you moved to this neighborhood. There are few things you ever want to talk about with strangers, but your cats are one of them.

“He is a little guy,” the man muses.

Guy has no reservations about rubbing his fat face on the stranger’s glove, a purr kicking up in his chest. You relax as the man keeps his touch gentle and slow, that little bit of paranoid tension trickling into the soil beneath your feet.

“The other two aren’t as well behaved, I don’t trust them without harnesses on,” you add, nodding at the window.

The man glances up at them. Doesn’t seem to realize that his demise (and yours) is imminent from their glares.

“What are their names?”

You flush. “Rasputin and Shithead. I tell everyone else her name is Susan though.”

A sharp bark of laughter splits the air like a falling ax, cracks right down the middle. It makes you jump a bit - Guy is expectedly unbothered - but still you find yourself gratified. Laughing is good, it means you’re doing things right.

“Sorry,” he says, “but my friend would like that name.”

You gesture at the house across the street. “One of them?”

“Yes, the short one.”

You only just manage not to snort in amusement, but it doesn’t stop him from noticing. The mask moves, you think he might be grinning underneath.

“Does he know you call him that?”

“Not if you don’t tell him.”

You doubt you’ll have the opportunity even if you wanted to.

Someone’s at the door.

You’re only half-dressed, waist deep in laundry you have no excuse for putting off so long. Aren’t expecting company either - it’s Sunday morning, everyone should be at their various churches or visiting relatives. Can’t remember the last time someone knocked before noon on a Sunday.

Still, it was a big solid knock. The kind that makes you think it’s not the usual neighbor come by to impose on your space.

You glance down at the hem of your sweatshirt, determine it’s far enough down your thighs to be acceptable, and pad to the door.

You open it to another of the renovators. The “short” one - though you readjust that measurement quickly. He’s still taller than you, it’s just that most anyone seems diminutive compared to his friend.

“Morning,” you chime.

“We need your driveway.” His voice is low and rough, blunt. A sledgehammer to concrete. Also German-accented, you note.

“Oh,” you reply, “what for?”

He grunts. “Work.”

And you, a longtime observer of politely shaking people down for information by this point, smile without teeth.

“Oh, a work truck? It won’t make a mess will it?”

“No.”

You hum, glance at your stupid little sedan parked in the middle of the driveway.

“Okay, I’ll move — Shithead!”

You scramble to grab at the black and white blur of evil, sweeping her up in your arms as she meows in complaint. One of her back feet catches in the hem of your sweatshirt and starts to pull it up as she kicks. You curl an arm under her butt for support, but mostly she just takes the opportunity to chomp down on the meat of your thumb.

You glance at the man. “Shithead is very interested in the renovations.”

He stares. “So that is actually its name. I thought you were being rude and Konig didn’t realize.”

Ah, so that’s his name. You never did get that introduction.

“No, yeah, this is Shithead, I’m sure you can see why.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as she unlatches from your thumb, only to bite down on your wrist.

“So! The truck - when will it be here?”

“Noon.”

“Great! See you around!” You shut the door in his face without getting a name.

You threaten, not for the first time, to turn her into a pair of mittens. She responds by attacking your foot until Rasputin tackles her. Guy cries at the door, probably missing a man he met for all of two minutes.

The work truck stays through the night. Your cats spend all afternoon watching the men cross the street and back. Every once in a while, Guy puts his little feet up on the glass - Konig must be passing by.

You glance out the kitchen window only once and make hard eye contact with the third of their trio. He’s somehow even more covered up than Konig, and yet you get the distinct impression that your gaze is not welcome.

You blink and abandon the dishes for later.

The next morning, they’re already at it when you shuffle outside for the mail. Konig raises a slow hand in greeting, but visibly brightens when you smile sleepily and wave back.

You pass the work truck - the back panel is already open for them to unload wood beams and heavy-looking buckets. Construction stuff, as expected - and not messy, as promised.

You spot a red and white flag decal on the rear window. Austria, isn’t it?

“Did you just wake up?” a flat voice asks.

You squint a little through the morning sun at the man from the day before. The rude one.

You yawn. “Mhmm.”

He frowns at you, disapproval plain. Agatha will like him, you muse, shoving a hand in your mailbox. They both seem to have strong opinions about your sleep schedule.

“It is late.”

“It’s only 8.” You tug out a sheaf of envelopes and begin idly flipping through them.

“The sun is up.”

“So what?”

He clicks his tongue disdainfully. You absently click back. Then jump as a big body lands right in front of you. The third man, two wooden beams balanced on his shoulder. He makes brief eye contact with you again, then strides across the street.

“Shoo,” the rude one says. “Men at work, yes?”

You grumble. “See if I bring you cookies.”

Konig glances up from the truck bed, eyes shining. “Cookies?”

Well shit.

Rasputin keeps you company while you cook. He’s the only one allowed on the counter for any length of time. Shithead steals anything and everything, or bats at your hands while you work. Guy has the equal parts endearing and infuriating habit of touching everything with his paws.

Rasputin is the only one who will sit quietly to observe, leaning in for the occasional kiss. Today, he’s watching you bake cookies and assemble sandwiches. A dual-purpose welcome and peace offering to the three men across the street.

Is it too much? Maybe. But you’ve got nothing better to do and kindness won’t break your bank, so. Cookies and sandwiches.

You change clothes while the cookies cool on the pan - a sundress for the warm, late-spring weather. They’ve seen you in your pajamas far too much already.

At the door, you hesitate. This house doesn’t feel inhabited yet, but it also doesn’t feel right to just open the door. It’s quiet inside, so no power tools to drown you out. Making a face, you settle for a firm knock. It takes a minute or two - you think you might hear distant shouting. Then the door swings in fast and hard, nearly startling you.

It’s the third of their trio, the one you’ve yet to speak to. He’s covered head to toe, fabric around his head and face, leaving only sharp blue eyes to glare out.

“Hi,” you begin, hands thankfully too full to fidget. “I brought food.”

His eyes flick to the foil-covered platter in your hands. Then he swings the door wide and pivots on his heel.

“The cat comes too.”

Cat?

You glance down. Sure enough, Rasputin is standing by your legs, his remaining half a tail swishing. You sputter at him - didn’t even realize he snuck out - but all you get is his characteristic raspy “mah” noise. Right then.

He politely trots by your side as you enter, not even shy about your curiosity. The place is gutted, stripped walls and scuffed floors. It smells like dust and plaster and shaved wood. All the lights have been ripped out of the ceiling, exposing wires like nerve-endings.

There are two empty rooms to either side upon entry, a den and a dining room probably. The den even seems to be split into two, with one half sunk lower, accessible by a couple steps.

You follow your unexpected host through the “dining room,” which seems to be more of a satellite staging zone at the moment. There are piles of tools, stacks of materials, a little island of canvas bags. As you pass through, you notice a staircase, and even from the ground floor, you can see that it crosses over to the den on the other side.

The kitchen is stationed towards the back of the house. You try not to wince at the state of the counters. Pockmarked, blistered, scratched, burned, cracked laminate.

The floor has already been pried up to reveal smooth concrete. You scan it quickly for anything that could hurt Rasputin’s feet before entering.

Your neighbor gestures for you to set the platter down on an empty patch of counter, so you do, peeling back the foil.

“Cookies and sandwiches,” you explain just to have something to say.

“Why?” he asks.

You shrug. “To be nice.”

He stares. You blink back.

“I mean, you don’t have to eat them,” you add. “It would just be a waste.”

Rasputin chooses that moment to leap onto the counter, taking a moment to steady himself once he’s landed. With only one eye and a crooked leg, he’s not the most acrobatic or graceful of your babies, but he makes do.

To your shock, though, once he’s gained his bearings, he makes like he’s going to eat one of the sandwiches.

“Ras,” you gasp, surprised. “Absolutely not!”

The little shit doesn’t even resist when you nudge him away, just settles on his haunches, staring at your neighbor. And, to your confusion, your neighbor grunts.

“Konig! Krueger!” he barks.

That must be the rude one’s name. Krueger. You file that tidbit away.

“What’s your name?” You ask. “No one’s told me.”

He eyes you - dare you say suspiciously - letting the silence stretch.

“Nikto,” he rasps finally.

You finish introducing yourself just as the other two enter. Konig’s down to just the dust mask today, while Krueger seems to have donned one for himself.

“You,” Krueger says.

You arch your eyebrows back. “Me.”

“What brings you here?” Konig interjects, much friendlier.

“Well, you really seemed to want cookies yesterday, so I thought I’d bring some with lunch as a welcome to the neighborhood.”

He practically shoves Krueger to get to the kitchen. You politely get out of the way so he can indulge in your offering without getting trampled.

“Danke schön,” he says, scooping up a sandwich.

“No problem,” you answer, smiling.

Krueger deigns to sidle closer, inspecting the platter with a keen eye. Still, you think you see a bit of appreciation in them before he snatches up one of the sandwiches. For some (concerning) reason, you’re gratified by that. (You’ll just blame it on your habit of feeding ferals and strays.)

“I also wanted to give you three a little warning…” Three pairs of eyes pin you in place. You try not to grimace. “Everyone on this block is nosy as hell. They will literally peak in your yard and check your mail.”

“The mail?” Konig asks, appalled.

“Yeah, I started using a PO Box,” you sigh. You’ve only got so much sanity before you start taking sniper shots with a water gun.

“We will handle it,” Krueger says.

“I’m sure,” you demure. “Anyway, that was all. You can drop the platter off later - or I can come get it. It’s not like you’re far.”

You start looking for Rasputin, only to find him perched on Nikto’s broad shoulder. The man doesn’t even seem bothered by the claws digging through his shirt, scratching a finger at the calico’s cheek.

“Huh,” you say, surprised.

Nikto glances at you, pauses. “What?”

You snort at the bluntness, but grin. “Usually I’m the only one allowed to pet him.”

That’s three for three. Well, two and a half. Shithead could have been trying or escape or go for the ankles for all you know. But Krueger seemed to like her, so that counts for something.

“C’mon my little tank, let’s go,” you coo, approaching.

Rasputin nuzzles his face against Nikto’s once, gives him a parting mraw, then leaps into your waiting arms.

“Bye, guys!” You call, waving over your shoulder as you head for the door.

Konig is the only one to respond with a polite, “see you!” But you don’t take it to heart.

#cod #thoughts™️#my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #dark fic #konig #konig x you #konig x reader #nikto x reader #sebastian krueger #krueger x reader #cod nikto #konig cod #neighbor!reader

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reverie-verse · 17 days

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Azriel x Reader: The Bond of a Century

An old request that I decided to revamp

Request prompt: Can I request an Azriel x reader where the mating bond snaps for Azriel but not the reader? Kind of like how Feyra didn’t know Rhys was her mate till she was told.

My prompt: A bond forgotten for over a century and a half makes its way back to the forefront. All of it starts with Rhys asking for a favor.

This is a fluffy, steamy, angst-ish fic

I hope you enjoy!!!! My requests are open!!!

____________________________

This was the last thing you thought you would be doing for Rhys. Out of all the things, this-this is what he chose for you to do. Rhys had a sick twisted mind that put you in a situation you had no desire of being in or a part of. You mentally cursed at the high lord, hating him in the moment even though he was your dearest friend. Elain scoured the city for certain pots for her plants, and certain seeds for her garden. Azriel right by her side and you trailing behind them. All you wanted to do was to go back to your home near the docks. It was the first home you had when you first moved from Dawn to Velaris less than a century ago, but with some convincing Rhys and Feyre were able to get you to stay at the town house. It was only then did her sisters arrive, and at some point you were put to the task of keeping an eye on Elain with the occasional visit of Az. Honestly you wished you could train with Nesta, but Cassian was chosen for that task. You wouldn’t have minded living in the house of wind-“ I think I need to go to Day Court or maybe Spring,Oh perhaps we go to Dawn instead. They must have better pots.” Elain speaks more to Azriel than she does you. You were eyeing the various shops, and the people delighted to be around you, each grinning and waving at you. Another beautiful thing about Velaris you’d come to love. People were kind here.

Azriel smiled softly at her “ Of course, if that’s what you want” his voice was tender and sweet. You fought the urge to roll your eyes, turning your attention elsewhere. You hated being there dealing with this shit, but Rhys insisted you tag along, “It’s good for the soul. Get some fresh air” with that insane cat-like smirk. Ooo you shoot daggers into your mind, a deep chuckle echoing in the background.

“ Yes that’s what I want, thank you Az” Elain returned the gesture.

“ Alright then I’ll let Rhys and Feyre know-“ You say as you pinched a flower petal between your thumb and index finger. You looked away from it then back at them. The two watched you with curiosity, you let go of the petal. It was no simple task, an easy reminder of what you needed to do and a simple approval came from Rhys. A gentle poke in your mind causes you to shake your head.“-Let's get this over with” You take steps towards them placing your hands on their arms you effortlessly winnow the three of you to Dawn. The landing was gentle and less sickening, the three of you placed in a Market, one that you were familiar with.. Elain squealed with excitement as she rushed over to an area where she had seen fresh flowers, a few shops down could be seen a pottery shop, the two of you already trailing her.

“ Look at this beautiful bouquet! Y/N? Should we get this for the town house?” She gestures to the bouquet filled with many vibrant colors, various shapes and sizes. You were stumped, she normally doesn’t ask you these questions most of the time they were directed at Az.

“They look lovely Elain, I’m sure they’ll fit anywhere you put them..” You replied not really sure how to respond. Honestly you’ve never really thought about what flowers you liked or didn’t . It wasn’t something that was ever given to you, nor something you found and immediately fell in love with. You didn’t have anything against anyone who knew what they liked, you just-never had the experience of looking forward to your own set of plants. Even when you first attempted gardening most of your plants and flowers died, you simply didn’t have the skill or the eye for it..but that was okay, though on rare occasions it was something you wished you had..

Elain smiles awkwardly “ Well, maybe we can get it, it might brighten up the home. Make it seem more natural..comfortable” She pulls out her coins, handing it to the shopkeeper. The three of you move further heading over to the pottery shop that she explained earlier how she wanted to visit. Your eyes searched the area, checking for predators, anyone who might cause harm to the high lady’s sister, before entering the shop. You had other plans that you needed to attend to while the two looked around, it was in the midst of Elains discussion, mostly to Azriel about the various styles of pottery, that you planned to sneak off. It was only then did a voice capture your attention from behind you.

“ Y/N, I must admit I never pegged as you someone who might be interested in pottery” Thesan, high lord of Dawn, speaks out, the entire shop haunting their work to bow at his presence. He waved his hand dismissing them easily back to work. Azriel positions himself so that he stands near you with Elain behind him, she peers her head out, trying to see who it was that spoke so elegantly. A small smile graces your features at that familiar voice you knew so well as you shifted to face Thesan, who was already grinning. Azriel didn’t miss it, taking note of it.

“What if I was?” You retorted,

“ Then that would be a surprise”

“I hate to burst your bubble High Lord but I’m here on business not for pleasure” You replied, the two of you sharing a small laugh together. Azriel forced his expression into neutrality, Elains eyes sparkled with curiosity and intrigue. Thesan looks behind you for a moment, taking in the Shadowsinger and the woman next to him.

“ Ouch, that one hurt Y/N, I see you brought friends, Shadowsinger” Thesan greets civilly no hate present.

“ Thesan,” Azriel gives a simple head nod in his direction, there was no need for malice, Thesan had always been a great friend of Rhys’s and now apparently yours. Though a feeling crept inside his chest, this odd feeling takes root, Azriel does his best to shove it away, especially with Elain right next to him..

“ And you must be Elain, one of the sisters of High Lady Night.”

“ Yes I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you” Elain smiles with a blush that creeps along her cheeks. She wasn’t sure how to respond being that a high lord, whom she never met knew she existed. The surrealness of the situation becomes a reality, the more she realizes how well known her sister is, how well known both of her sisters are including herself. A delighted yet astonishing experience for her, something she wasn’t used to yet.

“ Same to you, i hope you don’t mind if I borrow Y/N for a moment or two, there’s somethings I’d like to discuss” Thesan offered but secretly it was a meeting that needed to take place. You were in fact here on business, something that Rhys specifically shared with you and no one else. Dawn used to be your home, but when you were moved to Velaris, you became the seg way for Dawn and Night. Your job was to be the emissary for both sides, keeping the courts relationship in even better shape. You missed your home dearly at times, and you missed Thesan whom you were extremely close too, and who you cared about, even with this being only for business there was some pleasure that came out of it.

“ No of course not, I’m sure she could use a break from us, right Azriel?” Elain looks up to him but his eyes were trained on you and Thesan. You were ready to join him without so much as another word, it struck a nerve in him, why? What could possibly be the topic of conversation between you two? Why do you only need to speak with him? Surely Rhys would’ve told him what this meeting was about? Why hadn’t you come to him for advice or as a second set of ears? Why was the meeting a secret?-“Azriel?”Elain calls out to him, you were looking at him suspiciously, your eyebrows furrowed, your eyes flickering across every part of his face and bodily language. Azriel adjusts himself, shielding off whatever thoughts or feelings he harbored in the moment. He blinks, his eyes drift back to Elain then back to you and Thesan “ Go ahead, we’ll be here in the shop if you need us, we leave in about two hours”

“ Alright then I will have my men escort the two of you back to my palace.” Thesan replied, You eased the questioning look off your face, you shift back towards Thesan, the two of you walking out of the shop, the conversation immediately flowed. He could see the smile on your face, and yet again the melodic sound of laughter that left your lips. The high lords' guards remained in place while Azriel and Elain both continued their shopping. However, that didn’t stop him from taking one last look out the door.

When the two hours were up, Azriel and Elain were guided securely to the Palace where he’d find you and Thesan walking along the hall. Thesan stopped in his tracks grabbing your arm, it forces you to halt in place, your body halfway facing him. His mouth moves but Azriel can’t hear what he’s saying, he lifts a hand to your face gently swiping at your cheek. He removes his hand, pulling you gently into a tight embrace. Azriel could see the way you held onto him tightly, as if you dared to let go. The two of you stayed in that position for a few moments until you both eventually pulled away. Why were you crying? Were you hurting? Were they happy tears? Did he say something to you? What was it? There were too many emotions to pinpoint, Azriel’s chest continued to tighten at the emotions he felt. You left Thesans' side offering him one last smile, but that smile fades, when you approach them.

“It’s time, are you ready?” You ask softly, your demeanor changed, a bit relaxed but a heavy weight stays on your shoulders. You roll them back, adjusting yourself. Azriel watches you with such careful eyes, you paid no mind, your thoughts elsewhere.

“ Yes-“ Elain starts but her gaze flickers back and forth between you both. For Elain it was rather odd to see the two of you interact, when she had met you, your relationship with Azriel was already thin, you were distant with him compared to everyone else. Elain assumed that your relationship had always been like that, but now she wasn’t so sure..

“ Are you alright?” Azriel asks you, his hand twitches slightly, part of him restrains himself, the other yearned to reach out for you. But you were quick to recover, offering him a reassuring smile.

“ Yeah I’m fine, let’s go.” You placed your hands on both of them, winnowing them back to the town house. There Nuala and Cerridwen greeted the three of you. Nuala took the pots out of Elains hands, Cerridwen took the flowers and placed them in another vase. Elain begins gushing about the journey to Dawn, how gorgeous it was..You sighed exhausted leaving the space quietly to head to your own room. Azriel was about to follow you when Elain called for his help in the kitchen. Azriel hesitated staring up at the staircase. Why couldn’t he just talk to you? He’s a Shadowsinger, a spymaster, and he can pry details out of anyone but you. All he can feel is your emotions-your emotions... Elain had pulled Azriel from his thoughts as she hugged a pot to herself.

“Az? Are you coming?” She says as she waits for him to follow her to the garden. Again he hesitates but he feels a stirring in his chest. Azriel lifts up a hand instinctively touching it, a sharp sensation could be felt beneath his chest. It couldn’t be? Could it? Azriel’s eyes widen, Elain takes a breath “ I’ll be outside Az when you’re ready-“ Azriel moves his feet faster than his mind could process, he was out of the town house door, his wings pushing him off the ground shooting him into the sky, he needing some time to think..

___

The moons at its highest peak, your curtains flowing with gentle breeze that filtered through your bedroom. The candles and lights burnt out signaling that you were asleep, that was until you heard a creak in the floorboard, and the atmosphere changed, a darker presence filled the space. You were lying on your stomach, your hands slipping beneath the pillow as you grip the handle of the blade you’ve hidden beneath it. You felt the figure stop just before your bed frame, you could hear them bend down towards your face. As they reached for you, you swiftly reached out a free hand grabbing them, you flipped them onto the bed, rolling over pinning them down with your blade tucked against their neck in the most vulnerable area.

“ It’s only me” He whispers, the lights in the room reaching a dim hue, illuminating the area.

“ Jeez Az, I could’ve killed you” You replied tiredly, you pulled back the blade placing it on the end table. Azriel’s eyes followed your movement above him, your hips and legs straddling him, your hair in an unruly nature, from slumber. The candles hue amidst the room, caresses your face, your bare legs, your skin making it appear warm to the touch. You had worn a tunic that wasn’t yours, it hugged loosely around your body frame. The tunic looked oddly familiar to Azriel but then again he wasn’t so sure. All he wanted to do was rip whoevers tunic that belonged to, off of your body and replace it with his.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you-” He apologizes,”-I have one question I’d like to ask you” Azriel whispers, as he watches your facial expression twitch into a sleepy confusion.

“This couldn’t wait till morning?” You sighed as your hand moved to rub the sleep from your face. You remove yourself from him, you slip off the bed but not before Azriel caught your wrist. He shifts himself so that he sits up lifting himself off the bed. He towers over you, the candle's glowing light touches his features in a way that it could come off intimidating, but there was a more intimate, soft, texture that made him appear more angelic.

“ No I’m afraid not.” He admits.

You nod your head” What’s your question?”

“ How long have you known about the bond?”Azriel’s voice low, as if to test the waters but enough to plunge himself. He needed answers and after speaking with Rhys, it was his right.

“ What?” Your face dropped, your skin becoming clammy as nervousness passes through you, sleepiness evades you.

“ You heard me, answer the question” his eyes switch between both of yours, searching and evaluating. He tried to pinpoint every emotion you felt, he tried to feel you through, the only thing stopping him was- you.

“ It's not that simple-” You shook your head, pulling your wrist out of his hold. You weren’t prepared for this, you weren’t ready to unravel all that you worked so hard to ignore.

“ It is that simple” Azriel continued to pry, he didn’t need the bond to notice how uncomfortable and painful this topic was for you-it was news to him, he wanted the truth..no lies no games only the truth

“ No, it’s not. It’s complicated-“ You looked away from him moving to the other side of the room. You couldn't find the words to explain this situation, your reasoning. What if what you told him set him off? What if this ruins everything between your friendships? The alliance that has been created? So many thoughts and questions, never enough answers…but for Azriel you did have an answer to his question..

“ Complicated enough for you to leave.” It was then that feeling in your chest, it builds a thick pressure. A heavyweight on your shoulders, the air almost sucked out your lungs. “ Is that what you told Rhys when you were packing your bags?” You couldn’t breathe, Azriel’s footsteps followed you till he was right behind you. You faintly feel the pulse of his surprise and his anger, as if it was your own, but it had been so long since you’d tapped into the bond. You had spent a century ignoring it, shielding it, and now, it was muscle memory..

“ Don’t make me do this..” You whispered out, a silent plea to move on, to let this go.

“ You knew, and yet you decided not to tell me” His voice held a deep frustration, a deep want and need. He wasn’t going to give up, he had a way with finding out the truth..

“ That’s-not what happened..” You were again stumped with words, torn between giving in or lying, torn between running away or staying..

“ No? Then what happened?” He continues to look down at you, you refuse to meet his gaze. Azriel doesn’t take no for an answer moving towards the front. He stands in front of you. His smell, his faint emotions from the bond slowly consuming you. It surrounds you, his shadows dance along the edges of the room, waiting, watching, whispering.

“ Az-” You warned him, it was another weak attempt to fight him off. But he continued to poke, to pull, to pry, to grasp at anything you’d give him. You were tired, exhausted, hiding your emotions, your thoughts, your protected heart and mind bound to collapse, all secrets were meant to escape..

“ I want the truth, Y/N-”. You took a deep breath, your nerves running a mile a minute. His own anxiousness was replaced with a demanding thirst for the truth. A truth that belonged to him too. You’ve kept this wonderful secret to yourself, he watched as his own family found mates that paired well with them. Watching as their life finds the pieces to the puzzle it was missing. Deep down he wanted that very same thing. He felt as though he may not deserve it but he craved it, to be loved unconditionally… “-You owe me that much”

You sighed, your heart shattering, you gave in, you really hadn’t planned too but the look in his eyes-, “..Before Amarantha began her reign, Rhys made an offer to Thesan to let me stay in Velaris, as an emissary between the courts. It was then that I found out that we were mates… It was then that the deal was made.“

“All these years and you kept this to yourself, why?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“ Because I knew you were in love with Mor. I wasn’t going to take that from you. But I did wait for you, I waited a long time. But when it became an achingly slow desperation, I gave up. I practiced silencing the bond, so I couldn’t feel the emotions you felt when you were around other-women..romantically and lustily I mean. Then Elain came around and it was the same process. I’m exhausted, Azriel. I can’t keep doing this”

“ You didn’t bother to try! You’re running back home because you never thought to ask how I might’ve felt!” His jaw tenses, his head slightly tilted to the side, his frustration grows, at this notion of forcing the information out of you, when you should’ve let it happen, when you should’ve told him..

“ I didn’t because I wanted you to come to your own conclusion. I wanted it to be as natural as possible but you were so invested in Mor and Elain and I’m not one to take you away from that. But I also miss the people I care about, I miss my old home-It’s time for me to go-” You protested.

“ What does Rhys think of this?” Azriel jaw twitches.

“ He was the one who encouraged me to speak with Thesan-“

“ Is that what the discussion was between the two of you?” He presses.

“ Yes but-“ You attempt to defend yourself.

“ Y/N, what exactly did you say to him?” Azriel wanted every detail, every version of this story, of his story, of his mates-his mate.

“ I didn’t- I didn’t say anything. I asked if I could return home, and he told me that I should stay here, that if I truly wanted to come home then he’d considered it.” Your heart leaps into your throat, you swallow it back, the feeling collecting.

“ His answer wasn’t even a Yes” Azriel’s scoffs shaking his head, his hands on his hips as he looks at the floor and then away at the window.

“ Yes- but it’s my decision-“ You looked up at him, watching his movements carefully.

“ No it’s not, you’re not going back there.” He challenged, his eyes find their way back to yours.

“ You can’t decide that.” You tell him, the two of you hurting by the weight of your decision. Azriel’s own heart squeezes painfully, at how easy it was for you to say those words to him. You were his, he wasn’t going to let you just walk away, not without fighting for you.

“ Why not? You’d already decided to keep this to yourself regardless of how I felt” He takes a step forward his arms falling back down to his side.

“ Azriel please listen to me-“ You tried to reason, you tried to find a way to break through, he wasn’t thinking straight, you weren’t thinking straight, neither one of you.

“ No you listen, all those years, all those centuries, you were my friend, and you were someone who loved me. Loved me enough to sacrifice what you felt so I could find happiness. In the depths of my mind I have fought and searched for you without realizing that you were here in front of me..I was too blind to see it. ” His hands flew to your face, your jaw, cupping it, his thumbs grazing your cheekbones. Your hands follow suit as your fingers grip his wrists. His shadows remove themselves from the dark corners of your room, shooting out to tangle around your wrists, not to pull your hands away but to hold you there in place. “ Please don’t run from me” He whispers, his forehead dipping down to rest on yours. His hands slide from your cheeks to the sides of your neck.

“ Az-I can’t stay” You replied quietly, your hands pulling at his wrists weakly at his. You both knew that you could take him down easily, but at this moment in time the two of you were struggling. The tension grew thick in the air. A sort of sharp feeling intensifies, the faded familiarity that was the bond, solidifies. You thought that you had successfully mastered the art of blocking the bond but no. Azriel must’ve truly accepted it, a different feeling takes over, Azriel hums at the feeling. You sucked in a breath.

“ You can’t leave without knowing I’ve accepted the bond” His nose brushes against yours. You shook your head once more, completely pushed Azriel away. Your hands fly to your head, your fingers tangling in your hairs. You wanted nothing more than to curl into yourself, this was too surreal, too overwhelming. You’d spent so long, alone, and working, on occasions waiting. Now you were uncertain, even more than you had been hours ago. Azriel could feel your indecisiveness, he just needed to bring you back to him.

Azriel followed you, he pulled your hands from your hair, one of them he placed on his chest, his heart beating beneath it, you couldn’t look at him. But you could feel the gentleness, the love that flowed through him into you. “ My heart, my soul belongs to you” he tries again. You could feel your body sag at the feeling of comfort. It was so intense and welcoming. You wanted to wrap yourself in it-but you fought it, you were so used to the fighting, the restraint, the self control. “Let go” His voice reaches into the depths of your mind, into your soul, calling out to you.

You placed your forehead on his chest, your hand leaving the area above his heart. Azriel’s wings moved to surround you, his shadows moved to get to you, tangling themselves in your hair, caressing your face and hands. They speak to you wishing you nothing but love and happiness. They bring you comfort, your eyes fluttering shut.

“ Y/N” Azriel calls out. You could feel his hands cupping your face once more tilting it upwards, his breath light. You could feel how close he was, Azriel was right there, all he needed to do-Az’s lips crashed down onto yours, so soft, and yet his kiss held all his desperation, his passion. He couldn’t hold back, not with you, not when he loved you so. You weren’t surprised, in fact you hadn’t realized how much you yearned for his touch, his kiss. Azriel turns his head to the side deepening the kiss, a quiet moan slips out. By the cauldron Azriel loved to hear that sound, he wanted to hear it again, and again, and again. For as long as he lived and breathed.

You were putty in his hands, the feeling of his touch, his thoughts, his emotions was putting you in overdrive. Your mind couldn’t comprehend nor catch up to the pace in which things were happening. Azriel lets go of your lips for a brief moment, allowing you a chance to breathe, a whimper and the need for air also escapes your lips. Azriel had to fight the urge to keep himself from taking you right then and there. You had the urge to let him do it, you placed your hands on his chest pushing him back a step. You couldn’t think with him in your space, Azriel wasn’t going to budge, but with the way you were so caught up and caught off guard, he let you take a second.

“Okay-“ You breathed out. Azriel’s eyes light up, a smile threatens to break out. “ I-um-“ You cleared your throat,”Uh-I-I accept the bond..” you whispered the last part. Azriel’s heart gave a squeeze of joy, his chest filled with lightness, with happiness and relief. All he had ever hoped for had finally come to fruition. A twinkle of mischief sparks in his eyes, a smirk finds its way onto his beautiful features.

“ What was that?” He asks, yet you squint your eyes at him, you know he heard, he knows he heard you, but he wanted you to say it again. “-I didn’t quite hear you” You bit the inside of your cheek still squinting at him. You sighed, your body began to relax, your facial expressions changing to that of a sheepishness. You were struggling to admit it, Azriel waited for you patiently.

“ I-“

“ Yes?”

“ Az” You raised your eyebrows at him, as if to say I’m trying here.

“ I’m sorry, please go on.” He encourages you.

You sighed as you tried again this time “ I accept the bond-” You are much more confident and certain. “I’ve loved you since I’ve known you. You were right, my heart and soul belongs to you-“Azriel couldn’t contain himself much longer as took you into his arms and spun you around. A victorious grin graced both of your features, and for once the weight of the world didn’t feel so heavy in your chests. You gave a light hearted giggle, your heart swooning. Azriel places you back on the ground. You smiled brightly, the twinkle reaching your eyes. “This is happening?” You asked out loud, you searched for clarification.

“ Yeah it is” Azriel let go grabbing your hand pulling you towards the window. You tilted your head to the side, a sweet smile on your lips, a playful yet teasing expression stretches onto Azriel’s face. “Do you trust me?” his hand extends outward.

“ Yes.” You lift your hand to place it into his, this time a new height sense fills both your bodies. The touch feels like a loving hum on your skin. Your minds, your souls, finally resting after all the searching that it had done. You place your hand in his, he guides you out of the window onto the terrace of the town house. You followed him blindly, willingly. Azriel stood taller in the moonlight, and the stars above shining, his shadows nowhere to be found, it was just him. “ Az wait- Elain-“

“She knows, and I’m sure she will be upset with me, but she has Lucien..She doesn’t need me.” He nods. You watch him closely, as you slowly lift a hand to caress his cheek, the touch sweet and warming. Azriel instinctively leans into your touch, turning his head slightly to kiss the palm of your hand.

“ I’m sorry” You whispered, you realized that you may have ruined a friendship for him, a little bit more than a friendship..

“ No I’m sorry” he replies as he takes you back into his arms, the sounds of the city's music playing amongst the trees, the flowers, the plants, the night sky seeming more inviting, more alive. All Azriel knew was in this moment in time he finally understood the accept of the bond, the waiting, the calling, you had always been there waiting for him, you gave him time, space, anything he needed to figure himself out..All those times he spent with other women- then it dawned on him, had you done the same? You chuckled upon feeling that jealous emotion. “ Who’s tunic are you wearing?”

“ Az, it’s yours”

“ What-“ You peel yourself out of his arms.

“ This tunic you let me borrow on a mission we had, remember? Court of nightmares? I was stuck in a brothel, I ended up fighting my way out, my clothes were completely shredded?” You offered bits and pieces of the memory, Azriel’s takes a moment to recollect and it hits him.

“ Yes I remember, you ate a bowl of soup that night at one of the hostels. You hated it,” He chuckled as he remembered the disgusted look on your face. You laughed alongside him. You moved to head back towards your room but Azriel was quick to catch your hand.

”Where are you going?”

“Um-to make you something, we still have to seal the bond.”

“ Not here”

“ Then where?” Azriel grins as he throws one of your arms around his neck, one catches your back the other catches your knees.

“ Somewhere private, where I can have you all to myself, no distractions, just you and me” He whispers to you, his face dipping closer to yours, you sucked in a small breath, the blood beneath your skin singing, practically humming. His arms tightened their hold on you pressing you as flush to him as possible. Azriel looks away and upwards towards the night sky, his wings strong as they help push the two of you off the ground. Excitement filled the air, the night, seemed sweeter, less stuffy, inviting. You guessed that Thesan was right for making you stay here, to reconsider, you were thankful that he pointed you back in the direction of your mate. Azriel was happy that his brother fought for his love, fought for him to find happiness. It was more than just two courts keeping a civil peace, it was about two souls that needed to find each other, even if it takes a century.

1K notes · View notes

heyhihellosworld · 2 months

Text

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬

Carlos Sainz x reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Smut, feeling guilty about sexual thoughts, age gap, I think that's it?

Notes: Heyyy, Carlos??? Hope I read this request right! Probably changed it a bit. This is more from Carlos perspective than anything else

Request Don't know if you are taking any requests or not, but how's best friend brother's with Carlos Sainz when suddenly having ons with the reader and Carlos been wondering how having her in his bed

Pt 2 here

Carlos breathed in the familiar hot air as he stepped out of his car and onto the gravel of his family home. He had finally touched down on home ground and planned to spend the majority of his summer break here.

He smiled to himself as he watched the big house and the green grass. He loved this house, he loved their summers and he was excited to spend some down time with his family.

Ana and y/n should be there already, Blanca maybe but she could also arrive later. His parents weren't home, he knew that already but they would come in an hour or so.

Someone was home at least judging by the open porch door and small talk coming from the other side of the deck.

Carlos walked over the grass, trying to see who was there but he opted to take in his bags first. He had just stepped into the big hallway when he saw a figure from the big window. Ana was there and.. who was that? All he could see was a beautiful woman, hair moving in the wind and a beautiful figure on the deck. Carlos swallowed before moving away, it was rude to stare.

Who was that? Was that.. no it couldn't be Y/n, could it? But who else would be here to stay for the summer. It was always Y/n.

Carlos' mind ran on high speed as he tried to process who else it could be because this was certainly not the Y/n he remembered. No, last summer you had been this, very cute sure, but nerdy little girl who had barely graduated school and was now working at the downtown café whilst studying in university.

You had always been sweet and cute but he had never ever seen you as attractive. No this, this was surely someone else. Maybe one of Blankas work-friends. It could not be you.

Carlos forced the thoughts away as he marveled into the house, his house. It was hot, summer and he was settling for some downtime before the next part of the season began, that was the focus he reminded himself of.

He opted to start on food, eyes flickering back to the garden to try and get a look at whoever it was out there but they had disappeared from the kitchen view. Maybe that was for the better actually.

"Carlos!"Carlos flinched at the sound of his name, too deep in thoughts to realize someone had entered the open kitchen from the patio-doors in the living room.

He turned around with a wide smile as he recognized your voice opening his arms to hug you which you welcomed with a giggle.

His face fell however when he looked at you after you had stepped away. What the fuck had happened over winter?

The before young, teenage-looking girl had really grown into a young looking sure, but gorgeous woman. Face more mature-looking, smile as captivating as always and your body. Carlos had to force himself to look at your face as you were dressed down in only a small skirt and a bikini-top from having been sunbathing and swimming all morning.

Fuck it was you, how?

He quickly averted his eyes from your body to look at your face

"Hola Y/n" he smiled warmly as you hugged him in greeting. "We thought you came but we didn't see you" you smiled as you watched the counter top that was filled with ingredients. "Sorry, I planned on going out but..."

That Ana came out was perfect timing because Carlos had no idea how to finish that sentence. "Carlos! Why didn't you come out to greet us?!" she scolded as she wrapped her brother into a warm hug, Carlos stuttered, what he wanted to say, or the reason for it was not something he wanted to say at all so instead he shrugged. "I was about too" he said instead , ignoring the look Ana gave him and the food on the counter.

Ana dropped it quickly, the excitement of seeing her brother taking over the weird behavior and she soon proceeded to ask him a million questions but it was all like usual with the Sainz siblings.

You were happy, content in stretching out on the sofa and listening to their chat during the evening and when the night came you gladly welcomed the soft bed in the Sainz's guest room.

Carlos wanted to hit the person of his family that had suggested a boat day. He loved being on the boat and he loved being with his family and the boat was a tradition in your summers. You used to take the boat out to a small little island only an hour away and spend the day swimming, laughing and grilling before going back home in the evening when the light had already gone away and the city lights illuminated in the water.

However the only thing he could concentrate on all day was you in your tiny little bikini that barely left anything to the imagination. If he was realistic it was a normal bikini, but it was still tiny and he could barely keep his eyes off of you.

When you had been exiting from the water with your hair drenched and dripping with a huge smile on your face he had stared so long that Blanca had hit him in the back of the head with a scolding look and Carlos had coughed, looking away feeling guilty.

It was a nice day, the sun grilling your skin and everyone was happy that summer had finally arrived. Carlos' parents grilled over the open fireplace as everyone settled down, chatting lowly and laughing.

He enjoyed it, laughing and joking with you and his sisters, chatting with his parents. Swimming in the hot sun. It was a great day but when the time came and you decked the boat and walked up to the villa Carlos felt like he would snap off the tension in his body.

He still couldn't really grasp it, couldn't grasp how attracted he suddenly was to you.

He groaned as he collapsed down on his bed, his head in an awkward position against the headboard. He let out an annoyed groan and flopped down in an ungraceful movement.

He felt annoyed, tight like a string as he tried to sit more comfortably. He was hard in his sweatpants and that annoyed him more than anything else. He felt ridiculous, like a teenage boy watching a pornmagazine for the first time. All this for only a little bikini, it was ridiculous but he couldn't help it, couldn't make it go away.

He closed his eyes, groaning when the only thing he saw in his head was just in that stupid little bikini. He couldn't help it when his hand crept down his body, his mind telling him it was wrong but the satisfaction he felt when he finally wrapped his hand around his cock pushed away all those thoughts until the only thing he could think about was dirty dreams.

At first the pictures were more okay, if there were something like this in picturing his sister's younger friend while jerking off.

It was you, in that bikini you had stropped around in all day, your smile and your elegant figure. Then it was your lips, then it morphed into your lips wrapped around his cock and from there on he was screwed.

He pictured how you would look as you sucked him off, he could picture the look in your eyes as you would’ve licked over his tip, he could almost hear the sounds you would make as he pushed your head that slight bit further.

He pictured laying you down on his crisp white sheets, pictured how he would pull your legs apart, could hear your moans in his head.

He could almost taste her on his tongue, see her face contorted in pleasure. His mind wandered further and further away from reality as his hand moved up and down his shaft. He would feel guilty, he would feel so guilty afterwards but right now, at this moment he only felt pleasure and his thoughts only added to his arousal.

It was wrong, he knew it, but he didn't feel it. It felt fucking amazing, the pictures, the imaginition he had made him harder than he'd been in a long time.

He pictured your face as he would fuck you, imagining how hot you would feel around him, how tight you would be. He pictured the sounds you would make as he made you orgasm, the picture stuck in his head as he finally released with a long groan, head falling back as the relief finally washed over him.

Only then did the realization hit and he felt disgusted over himself. The cum on his skin added to the sick feeling in his chest. It was not normal. It was disgusting. Jerking off to Ana's best friend who was many years younger than himself just because he'd find out she'd been growing curves. He felt a tight feeling in his stomach, like he would need to throw up. He hurried into the bathroom and jumped into the shower like he was on fire.

His skin was red where he had roughly scrubbed the cum of his skin and he felt slightly better when he dressed in clean clothes and shook the water off his hair. Maybe it was okay.

The guilt however came back full force once he saw you on the sofa with Blanca, gossiping and laughing. He had to look away to swallow the lump in his throat that had formed.

You were sprawled out in one of the outdoor chairs next to Blanca in the hot sun. You had just been taking a dip in the ocean and was now drying up on the big deck of the Sainz's house.

"Do you think Carlos has anything against me?" you asked Blanca randomly, noticing the way she jerked up in her chair to give you a wild look.

"Que?! Carlos loves you silly" she waved you off. Summer at Sainz, anything with the Sainz's had been always consisting in your life. You and Ana had met in kindergarten. She was two years older than you but somehow you had stuck together throughout school and then throughout adulthood. You had spent every summer since then here, in the amazing villa with her family. You had traveled with them, watched Carlos's races, you had been a part of them forever so maybe you understood her wild look but still. It had felt like something was bothering him these first couple of days. He had been acting slightly... stiff around you.

"I know... I don't know why but it's just.. he has been so awkward with me, barely spoken to me alone" you shrugged and Blanca hummed. "I think Carlos is having a bit of a crisis" Blanca grinned as she leant back in the soft chair

This time you sat up to give her a look. "What do you mean? Is something wrong with his racing?"

Blanca laughed and shook her head with a huge grin on her face. "No, not about racing" she calmed

"I think little Carlos is having a crisis about how gorgeous you have become" she smiled before adding "You have always been gorgeous, but over the winter..." she made a face expression as if to express the change and you giggled, it was true. You had matured in your body a lot over the winter, felt more comfortable, more secure.

"I don't think that's it though" you hummed, waving it off. Carlos was a formula one driver, he could basically chat up and model he wanted, and have the most gorgeous girls. He had many options, he would never choose you, his sister's friend.

"I think it is, I've catched him staring a bit too long and often. And every time I catch him with a slap on his head he looks extremely guilty"

You giggled at that, leaning back into the seat "I'm pretty happy with that reason to be honest" you smirked at Blanca who shook her head with a grin on her face "Watch it"

The next few days were fine, he still got a semi everytime you walked around in your mini bikinis and those shorts that showed all of your ass but he tried to control himself, felt he succeeded okay.

It was on the fourth day he snapped again. You had been taking a walk from the restaurant you had eaten at and stopped to buy ice cream and take a dip in the ocean.

You were yet again wearing only your bikini top and those tiny shorts that felt unnecessary to even have on because they didn't hide anything in Carlos's mind. Your hair was once again wet, dripping down your back and then it was the ice cream.

He knew it was just in his head, but it felt like you were provoking him, licking the tip of it in such a way he almost wanted to moan.

When he came back home he immediately walked up to his room and into the shower. He couldn't stop the images of going wild. Once again you were on the floor looking up at him with those big innocent eyes and licking the tip of his dick just as you had been the ice cream.

He could feel the tip of your tongue, could hear the small sound you surely would make at the taste of his precum that was pearling at his tip, he slid his thumb over it, imagining it was your tongue and he moaned loudly. He gripped his cock harder, slowly moving it down, imaging it was your mouth sinking down on him. The picture was so hot he jerked in his hold.

He sped up eventually, eyes closing to savor the filthy imaginations that were playing in his mind, like a slideshow. He could feel your touch, hear your voice and see you. It was all too much and he soon came over his hand, for the second time thinking about you.

He sighed as he let the water run down his body, cleaning him up and he let his head fall back against the tile. Maybe it was what it was. He would move on eventually, not get hard at the mere sight of you. It would be fine.

Carlos didn't fight it anymore, there was nothing he could do about his body's reaction. He sighed deeply and shrugged to himself. He lost the battle and he was really fucking attracted to you. Maybe that was just how it was now.

#f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #ferrari #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz fanfiction #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz imagines #carlos sainz oneshot #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz angst

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sugarcoatedstarkey · 3 months

Text

Firsts

pairings - Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

summary - Rafe was always there for your firsts.

warnings - drinking, drugs, language, fem receiving oral. (18+)

An/ I have other fics I should be finishing but this came to me this morning and I needed to write it!

Rafe Cameron.

Rafe Cameron was your first everything.

First friend, first girl boy hug, first kiss, first touch, first time, you hadn’t expected him to be your first heartbreak though.

Having been friends with him the moment your eyes landed on the quiet boy who sat on the browning grass, staring out at the kids playing. You can still remember the slight scowl on his chubby little face, you took it upon yourself to be friends with him.

Surprisingly he wanted to be your friend just as much as you wanted to be his, from that moment on the two of you were inseparable. It helped that you moved in next door to him, your parents becoming fast friends.

Throwback to the ripe age of 18, the night he broke your heart. You weren’t together, you were just best friends. Best friends that shared each other's firsts and seconds and so on. Neither of you put a label on the love you shared.

You wished you had though, the moment your eyes landed on his hands laced through Rebecca Jones’s tiny delicate hand, you knew that was the end.

He didn’t greet you that night, didn’t pull you into his famous bone crushing hug or whisper about how annoying everyone was. Instead he ignored you, Rebecca and his friends followed behind him as though he was royalty.

He wore a frightening smirk on his face the whole night, shoved at JJ Maybank who was hired as wait staff along with a fair few other pogues. Made a scene and called them names, at one point his father even had to get involved.

You felt sick to your stomach at the sight of the man in front of you, no longer the person you wanted to share your firsts with.

Fast forward to 21, you haven't spoken to him in three years. You couldn’t deny you missed him deeply, his picture still hung from the thin string lining your bedroom wall. But it was only one photo compared to the 300 you had tucked under your bed along with other memories.

It was your birthday, your eyes skimmed the people in the garden setting up for your party. Your eyes shooting to the silk black dress that hung in the doorway of your ensuite, darting your eyes back over the lawn and up at the tall house beside yours.

Your eyes search for a glimpse of Rafe but no life was found in the windows or the balcony. Letting out a soft sigh, you pushed yourself to stand. You didn’t have much time to get ready, your friends would be here soon and would want to start drinking the moment they stepped into your room.

45 minutes later you found yourself on the back porch, nursing a pornstar martini that your friend Elle had made. People had started to arrive and the sun had begun to set, your eyes searching through the sea of people for Rafe. You knew he wouldn’t show, even though at the age of 12 he promised to throw you the biggest 21st, just like the people on tv.

“Hey!”

You jumped slightly in your seat at the brazen voice, eyes landing on your friends who stared at you with worry. “What?” You questioned, grabbing a napkin you dabbed at the liquid that ran down your chest.

“I said, Barry is waiting for you by the side gate”.

All you do is nod and stand, Elle passes you the envelope of cash and keeps her eyes on the people around her. Tucking the folded up envelope in your bra, you make your way to the side of the house.

The music is loud and everyone is having a good time, your parents have gone out for the weekend to give you some space. Your friends had decided they wanted to buy something stronger than weed but were too scared of Barry to organize it themselves, but you apparently had no fear these days.

“Princess”

You knew you made a mistake instantly, Barry lent against the fence in a wife beater and ratty shorts. Smoke surrounded his face, stepping out of the dark he stopped in front of you.

You stood at the same height as him, if you had opted for heels you would have towered over him. “That dress looks good on you”.

“Here’s your money”

He cocked his head and kissed his teeth, eyes roaming your body unashamedly. You take a step back but he’s quick to step forward, gripping your wrist that held the envelope. “How about I give you something that’ll blow your mind but you pay a different way”

You shook your head instantly, you knew what he wanted. You weren’t stupid, the way his eyes darkened at the sight of you. “No I don’t think so… take the cash”

A throaty laugh escapes his lips and he tugs you towards him, your palm smacks his chest to keep you from falling into him further. You can smell the cigarette on his breath, scrunching your nose up when his lips ghost your cheek. “How about you get on your knees and put that pretty little mouth to good use”.

You tug on your wrist but his grip tightens, slipping his tongue out to wet his lips. “I have the cash, please just take the cash”.

His palm meets your shoulder, he uses all his strength to push your body to the floor and your knees hit the gravel. “Barry” you grit, your clenched fist meets his stomach and he doubles over in pain. “You bitch!”.

He coughs loudly and the little baggie falls to the floor, you're quick to grab it and jump up, throwing the envelope to his feet you step back but meet a hard wall. “Do we have a problem?”

All words that sat on the tip of your tongue vanished at the sight of Rafe, his eyes are hard and pointed at Barry. “I have the cash to pay him” your voice is just above a whisper, the skin of your bicep tingles at the feeling of Rafe’s fingers gripping tightly. “I don’t want the cash.. I want her on her knees” Barry growls, he stands up straight and steps towards you again. Pressing your back firmly against Rafe’s chest, he’s quick to pull you behind him. “She’s with me Barry”

“Oh shit man… I didn’t know she was yours!”

“She’s mine”

The goosebumps are back and butterflies swarm your belly, you zone out for what feels like a second but when you come back down to reality, Rafe is ushering you away from the scene, eyes cocking to see Barry hopping on his bike and the envelope you had for him inside his back pocket.

“I didn’t need your help”

You're not sure why you even said that, of course you needed help. There was no way you were leaving with anything unless you sucked Barry off. Rafe ignores you, pushing you forward by your lower back until you're back with your friends. Your fingers tighten around the baggie, hiding it from Rafe’s eyes.

You didn’t care that he knew you were buying drugs, it’s not like you hadn’t seen him snort lines at every party. It just felt strange, your first time doing something harder then weed wasn’t with him.

All your friends' eyes are on the two of you, mouths opened in shock. Before anyone can say anything he’s walking away, slipping into the crowd of people and disappearing. “What just happened?”

“Let’s get high”

The four of you lock yourself in the bathroom, opening the small baggie you pour the contents into your palm. “Did he say what it was?”

You shook your head, placing a small pill on the tip of your tongue. Each of their eyes watch as you swallow, holding out your palm for them to grab.

“I’m scared… I feel like we shouldn’t trust what he gives us”

“It’s fine, if it had been anything bad he would have told Rafe.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just do Elle.. take the damn pill”

Each of them grab a pill and swallow, you put the rest back into the bag and hide it under the toilet sink inside your tampon box.

You're out the door before any of them can stop you, grabbing a bottle of champagne from the bench and heading back outside. Your feet take you further into the party, looking for Rafe. You hadn’t expected him to show up, your parents made you invite him since it would have been rude to throw a party next door without inviting your oldest friend.

You spot Rafe instantly, sipping on a beer and leaning against a pole. Topper and Kelce stand beside him as the two of them chat, Rafe’s eyes meet you for a brief moment before turning away from you.

Anger bubbles in your chest, storming back through the party. The bottle of champagne now half empty by the time you make it to your bathroom, the anger fuels the stupidity in your brain.

Grabbing the pills from the tampon box you take another, wanting the effects of the drug to hit you faster. But by the time you’ve taken the last step of the patio you're swaying, throwing your arms out to brace yourself. “Shit” you laugh, the empty bottle of champagne hitting the grass with a thud.

“Come dance!” Elle shouted, her tiny arms waving above her head. With wobbly legs you make your way to your friends, dancing wildly with them until a hot body comes up behind you and circles their arm around your waist, pressing you firmly to their crotch. “Hey”

You let the person dance against you, hands wandering your thighs and your stomach. The fingers of the stranger behind you brushes the underneath of your breasts before groping a handful, your mouth parts just a tiny bit and your ass presses firmer against him.

“What the fuck?”

Spinning on the spot at the loss of warmth behind you, the guy who had been dancing with you was on the floor. Rafe towered over you once again, his fingers grip your bicep and he’s pulling you away from the party. You notice no one watches the two of you, music drowning out any chatter around them.

“Rafe! What the hell is your problem!” You growl, wriggling in his grip only causing further pain to your arm. You give up rather quickly and let him drag you back into the house, pushing you through the door of the downstairs bathroom and closing the door behind him.

You press up against the bathroom sink and cross your arms, your eyes drift up and down his body. You can hear the harsh breaths Rafe was letting out, his forehead creased in anger. “I haven’t spoken to you in 3 years… you can’t just show up and manhandle me”.

His eyes meet yours finally and he takes a step closer, not close enough for you to touch him though. His cologne invades your nostrils and your cheeks heat from the memories of his hands on your body. “If you're not going to talk I’m leaving… it’s my birthday”.

His eyes finally drop from your eyes and he takes in your body, starting at your sneakers, drinking in the sight of your slender long legs, stopping for a tad longer on your breasts and then back up to your eyes.

You can hear your heartbeat in your ear, Goosebumps litter your skin and you have to brace yourself against the vanity table, legs wobbling from his gaze. “Happy birthday”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your shoulders relax at the sound of his voice. A voice you hadn’t heard up close in so long, a voice you dreamt about every night. “Thanks”.

The both of you are silent again, the sound of the party behind the door grows louder as the drugs start to lose their effect. “You look nice”

“Thanks”

He takes a step closer again, the toes of his shoes meet yours. The two of you look down briefly and then back at each other, you can smell the scotch on his breath, it's intoxicating.

“Rafe” your fingers touch his bicep softly, electricity flows through the tips of your fingers all the way to your heart. “I’ve missed you” he whispers seconds before his lips are on yours, all the memories you share together hit you like a tidal wave. Your knees buckle but he’s quick to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you closer to his chest.

“Missed you so much” he grunts, lips peppering kisses against yours. Down your jaw until they meet the base of your throat and he sucks hard, a soft whine escapes your parted lips. “Fuck”.

He grips your hips and drops you on the vanity table, pushing himself between your parted thighs, the heels of your shoes press firmly against his backside, pulling him closer to you. “You taste so fucking good”.

“Fuck Rafe… just like that” you whine, his hips roll against yours. His fingers grope and massage the skin of your thigh, pushing up the length of your dress to expose your nude thong. Your arousal soaks the front of your panties, your knees try to lock together in embarrassment but his thick frame holds them out. “I still make you as wet as I did 3 years ago” he groans, with one swift movement he’s ripped them at the crotch. Your pretty wet pussy exposed to his hungry eyes, his large hands tug you closer to the edge of the sink, dropping to his knees in front of you.

The sight has you clenching around nothing, arousal weeping from your needy hole. He places your feet on his shoulders and situates himself between your thighs. “Be a good girl for me y/n… let me eat your pussy for your birthday”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and nod frantically, the tip of his nose brushes your delicate clit. Your hips jut up to his face, a wicked smile paints itself on his lips. His tongue drops out slowly, the sight of the wet muscle has you whining. “Happy birthday sweetheart”

His hot tongue glides between your folds, your head falling back against the mirror in pure delight. “Oh fuck” you cried, pressing the balls of your feet into his shoulders. His hands grip the outside of your thighs, pulling your legs further apart until he can see your cunt in all its glory, glistening from your arousal. He could see your inner muscles clenching at the sight of him watching you. “Please Rafe” you begged, his lips dropped back to your pussy. Sucking and licking your overly sensitive nub, two of his fingers slip between your opening. Your back arching as he tapped at your g spot, you're sure you can see stars as he works himself on your pussy. “Sweet Jesus… Rafe! Yes yes yes”

The grunt of his approval vibrates against your clit, grinding your hips into his face. Your arousal coats his lower half, nose red from pressing himself so deep into your cunt. “I’m close! Rafe… right there! Holy shittt” your screams can be heard outside the bathroom door, the grip on your thighs are tight as he holds you close to him. You ride out your high, a thin layer sweat coats your chest and forehead. The back of your head hurts from the brutal force of you pushing against the mirror to steady yourself, you watch in silence as Rafe pulls away from you. Just as you open your mouth there are loud bangs on the bathroom door.

“Rafe! Man! Rafe quick Rebecca is outside looking for you!”

He’s out the door in seconds, leaving you alone and feeling dirty. Pressing your thighs closed you let out a silent sob, tears stream your face as you clean yourself up and throw away the ripped panties.

You take a few moments to calm down and slap some sense into yourself, you should have known Rafe was still seeing her. You should have told him to leave the moment he turned up, he was the Rafe you knew.

You exit the bathroom quietly and rush back downstairs in search of a drink, grabbing ahold of the tequila bottle.

As you step onto the patio, your friends quickly greet you. Your eyes stay on Rafe though, ignoring the chatter behind you, your eyes fall to the hand of Rebecca’s, it lay upon his chest in a gesture of adoration. A beautiful diamond placed upon her ring finger, the butterflies in your belly all but die. The beating of your heart is the only thing you hear, he notices where your eyes have landed and he is quick to place his much bigger hand over hers, hiding the beautiful ring from your vision.

He’s engaged.

Rafe Cameron got engaged.

Rafe Cameron had his first engagement and it wasn’t with you…

“Come on let’s go dance” Elle says, noticing the way both you and Rafe stare at each other. You squeeze your eyes shut for a brief moment when Rebecca reaches up to kiss his cheek, bringing the bottle of tequila to your lips. The alcohol burns your throat in the most satisfying way.

Your eyes open to catch the worry that finds its way onto his features as he watches you throw back way too much alcohol for your small body.

“Let’s get fuck up” you exclaim, walking away from your friends and towards the bar your parents had hired for the night.

“4 shots please… actually nah, just give me that bottle of whiskey”.

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leiswxrld · 3 months

Text

𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

pairings: felix catton x fem reader

synopsis: you hate felix catton because of how snobby rich and stuck up he is and when your best friend Farleigh tells you to come to saltburn with him, you have no choice but to say yes.

warnings: mdni 18+, smut, public sex, smoking, degradation + praise (slut,whore, pretty girl, beautiful), riding, pussy eating (r receiving), unprotected sex, period sex, enemies to lovers kinder (one sided).

a/n: guys I feel like I rushed this but I was trying to get this done and out by tuesday latest, felix is the definition of girl dinner.

credits: @cafekitsune @roseschoices line dividers ❥

It’s late, way past midnight sat in the garden hearing the crickets and sounds of birds chirping as you light a cigarette, taking a long drag before pausing and exhaling into the bristly midnight air, sat in pyjama bottoms and a tank top you feel the inclement cold slivering up your fingertips, giving you a case of raymond syndrome.

It’s quiet but peaceful laying against the green grass, taking in another drag from the narrow cylinder in between your lips, tasting the thick smog. You hear the sounds of heavy footsteps behind you, briefly turning over to see him before rolling your eyes and turning back to face the beautiful scenery in front.

Felix Catton. The owner of this beautiful home but it was safe to say you didn’t feel the same way about him, you felt absolute hatred towards him, you didn’t want to be here living it up with all the prissy rich people who loved to flash their money and talk about shit about people they wanted to but your best friend Farleigh begged you to come in his words it would be a ‘hell of a fucking experience’.

Was he irritable- yes but one thing you weren’t going to deny was that he was attractive who in their right mind would disagree, his dark brunette hair complimented his memorising earthy brown eyes, his height would make any person crease and that fucking cheshire smile got you every time.

You feel his presence lingering behind you, almost scared to even approach as you sat in silence for a few seconds, you gently tap the ashes from your cigarette into the grass and you dump the remains into the pond. “What do you want”

You voice is low but threatening, not moving from the current position your in. The sounds of his voice being caught in his throat is evident as he try’s to clear it with a soft cough, “Farley wanted to know where you were”

You scoff, turning around to meet his puppy doe eyes that seem to avoid your intimidating gaze. “So why did Farley send you out to find me”

“Well- I think we need to talk” he replies, voice cracking but confident.

“About ?” your head tilts to the side, eyebrow raised you just wanting the conversation to end so that you could go back to the peaceful silence.

“Do you hate me” the question catches you off guard, surprising you how forward Felix was about your loathing against him.

You sigh, cracking your neck and turning away from him watching the ripples from the pond spread out across the mass of the pond water. “What’s not to like about you….your an asshole, an ignorant rich boy who likes to laugh at those who are less fortunate than you and in general a massive slut”

It was true, Felix was known for being the university’s massive manwhore sleeping around with any girl that would throw themselves his direction, it not only disgusted you but it made you fucking jealous. In some twisted fucking way you wanted to be the one he would bend over and fuck the shit out of, hearing stories from your friends about how much of a good fuck he was made your distaste for him even stronger.

He’s lost for words not saying anything for a moment, you’ve think he’s finally got the hint and pissed off back into the house and you sigh in relief, laying back down on the floor but you hear his footsteps pace around you before stoping in front of you, blocking your view. “What the fuck are you-

It’s quick and sudden, falling onto his knees and grabbing your thighs pulling you towards him. Your confused and baffled, feeling how dizzy you were from the rapid movements as he goes to pull off your shorts along with your underwear.

“Felix get off of me what the fuck are you do-

You felt how embarrassingly wet you were, feeling vulnerable under Felixs unreadable face.

He lowers his face towards your wet pussy, the warm gush of air making you shiver as he finally lets his tongue gently lay across your swollen clit. You gasp, head falling to the ground as Felix gently sucked and nibbled at your sensitive bud.

Your body feels like it’s on fire, the blood flowing throughout your veins, making the beats in your heart beat faster as you unconsciously moan out. He grins, letting you grind into his face feeling the cold sensation of his tongue jewellery, create a cooling sensation on your cunt.

He’s slurping, lapping at your juices and letting out guttural moans, sending vibrations against your clit. He briefly looks up making eye contact with your starstruck eyes as he allows his thumb to gently circle around your bud.

He’s sensual and voluptuous almost making out with your leaking cunt as you try to stay quiet muttering curse words and praises hand, tangled into his greasy hair. You felt painful cramping restricting around your stomach, trying to distract the pain with the pleasurable sensation you were experiencing.

Felix stops for a second coming back up to see his face covered in your juices mixed in with your blood, the feeling dawned on you that it was your period blood on his face and you felt your face heat up as the embarrassment began to bubble in your chest. His finger slides between your folds before slipping it into his mouth, your laid there in shock as you watch how he moans around his fingers.

As if normal he resumes, eating you out more ferociously than before. “y-your fucking insane Felix fuckkkk”

He hums, letting his fingers rub your clit faster as you feel the intense feeling of an orgasm hit you before your slump on the ground, face flushed and mouth gaped open.

He comes back up with blood all over his face and a shit eating grin, “looks like someone’s lost for words”

“Fuck off Felix” your grinding into his hand and he chuckles licking his lips clean, “Seems like someone’s still desperate for my touch I thought you hated me princess ”

“I do hate you the only good thing about you is your tongue” you reply, going to stand up before he pushes you down.

“Since I’m only good for my tongue let’s see how fucking cock drunk you get for me, maybe it will change that bratty attitude” he sets himself beside you, sliding off his briefs before revealing his girthy curved cock, his tip scarlet red and leaking precum.

“Are you going to sit on it or not because I can just go and you can use your fucking hand to get off” your pissed but too aroused to fucking argue, climbing onto his lap and straddling over his tip before completely bottoming out on it. You both gasp slowly, feeling his hands go to grasp your ass before you begin to bounce on it.

You keep a set pace, grinding and vigorously bouncing on him, your hands wrapping around his neck. He invites you into a heated kiss, the taste of your period blood having a addicting sweet metallicy taste mixing in with your bitter tobacco taste.

The grunts and moans, emit from his chapped lips as he slaps your ass with a tight grip. “Look at you so eager to bounce on my fucking dick and I’m the fucking slut” you moan in response, your nails digging into his back leaving moon shaped crescents behind as you scratch and abuse his back.

Your panting feeling the fatigue hit you as he suddenly stops you, “Turn around and face the pond” you stop, turning around as he slips himself back inside you, making you gasp once again. He’s locked your arms with his hand and begins to bounce you on him making your head roll back into him, moaning feverishly the sounds of his harsh thrusts being heard from across the garden.

You feel his hand wrap around your neck pulling your head against his as he nibbles at your ear, “you should see how fucking sexy you look from here….so….fucking….pretty” he thrusts with every word so cock drunk for your brain to comprehend not caring if you could get caught fucking out in the open.

“I bet your wishing that someone would catch us out in the open as I fuck the shit out of you” he mutters, feeling his bruised lips against your nape, leaving love bites all over marking you as his.

“oh my god fuck- felix I’m going to come” you warn, your hands going to grip his thighs, feeling yourself clenching around his dick before you cum with a loud whimper, the warm feeling of his spunk releasing into you as he slows down his thrusts.

“Fuck babe you’ve made such a mess all over me” your still panting, fatigue hitting you as your both sat in silence feeling his heart racing against your back.

You turn around meeting the brunettes gaze before speaking, “Don’t get use to it, this is the last time I’ll ever do anything remotely sexually with you Catton”

“Noted”

You raise a brow, dying for the burning question on your tongue to be answered, “Who told you i hated you”

He smirks, “Farleigh…. he told me when he was going through his drunken rant”

“I’m going to kill that boy when I see him”

#smut #felix catton #felix #saltburn #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader #felix catton x reader #felix catton x you #black reader #saltburn imagine #leiswxrld #leiscoven

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prismatic-bell · 11 months

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HEY EVERYONE

Do you enjoy the idea of Sticking It To The Man, but also you’re fucking tired? Maybe you appreciate the idea of direct action of some kind but ADHD, depression, or physical disability has made it nigh-on impossible for you to actually, you know, do shit?

Well, friends, allow me to introduce you to a small but significant thing you can do to Stick It To The Man while also benefiting your own mental health:

I haven’t bought green onions in a year.

If you’re sitting here thinking “holy shit, Nina, those look like hell,” you’re not wrong—they’re recovering from some unintended abuse. They survived two weeks in triple digits (that’s upward of 35 degrees for y’all with the weird sciencey math units) while I, uh. Forgot to water them. The outer layers dried out to protect the inner layers and as soon as I watered these thirsty bitches they went

They literally looked dead three weeks ago. So yeah, they’re not too pretty right now, but you wouldn’t be either, and they’re bouncing back nicely.

So, how to do this simple thing?

1) obtain dirt and a pot. You’ll want to do this first because the next steps go surprisingly fast. My green onions live in a 6” terracotta pot and some gardening topsoil, but you can use potting mix (not Miracle Gro tho, that stuff is trash), dirt from outside if you live in a place where it’s safe to do so, any kind of soil will do provided it’s clean and doesn’t contain pests (although most pests will leave alliums alone because they hate the smell). To be clear, because we love and respect our biosphere in this house, “pests” in this context means “bugs that specifically will attack green onions while providing no benefit to either the onions or any other plants you may have.” The pot is mandatory, however—if you want to do this year-round, you need to be able to move the onions inside/outside as weather allows/demands.

2) buy some green onions. You can skip straight to step 4 from here if you want, but if you’re planning to use them first…

3) cut them only to the tops of the white bits. In other words you ONLY want to use the green part.

4) put the white bits in a ramekin, measuring cup, etc. with some water. I’ve used things as big as juice glasses for this, but that’s really on the big end. Put your container in a window with some sun.

5) 3-5 days later, you should see about half an inch of root growth on the bottoms of your onions, and possibly the beginnings of a tiny green spear at the top. (Maybe a bit more, if they’re overachievers.) Plant them in your pot with just a bit of the white sticking up overtop of the soil.

6) water just a little bit, every other day. You want the soil to always be moist to the touch, but never out and out wet.

7) watch them sprout. This is excellent for your mood, by the way. Science says having and tending green things provides visible benefits to both your physical and mental health. We also know that making tangible things is good for your mental health, and green onions grow quickly, so you get benefits fast.

8) As they grow, you can reduce watering to three times per week because they’ll be able to store more water. The leaves will feel firm and “thick” (you’ll understand what I mean when you get to feel a properly-watered green onion) when they have enough water, much like a succulent’s leaves will get thicker and firmer when it’s well-hydrated, so it’s relatively easy to tell if they need a drink.

9) trim your onions as you need them! I try to never take more than 3-4 leaves in a week—about half a bunch—so it has time to grow more, but if you live with a bunch of people you can get around this by just starting more green onions. Buy three or four bunches and plant them all. They don’t go bad because they literally just grow until you need them. I’ve actually planned meals around “I have not used enough green onions lately and the leaves are bending under their own weight, I need to trim some tops.” Although the ones you see in the grocery store have open tops, you’ll notice closed spears on your new leaves, and these are completely edible. Yes, I regret to tell you they cut off and probably waste the tapered bits just for The Aesthetic. They’re just like any other green part of the onion.

AND YOU WILL NEVER NEED TO BUY GREEN ONIONS AGAIN. Just add a little soil now and again to replenish the nutrients.

Yes, they’re cheap. Yes, this is a small thing. But many small things added together are a big thing. And when you’re confident in your green onions, if you have the desire and ability to do more, there are many other plants you can grow from grocery-store starters.

GO FORTH. ENJOY THIS KNOWLEDGE.

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harrysonlylover · 8 months

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Heat*

Summary: Your fiancée plans a trip to Italy after you get uncomfortable from the Summer heat.

Trope: CEO! H

WC:7.2k

Warnings: Jealousy, Possessiveness, mentions of pregnancy and ovulation, soft domrry.

A/n: so seepy besties don’t mind the mistakes.

CEO H Masterlist

Long hot summers are not for you.

Even though you’re unemployed, going out is still a must for you whether it be for hanging out with friends, running errands, or visiting Harry at his office.

Now that the heat is intensifying, you can’t bear making plans or even thinking about stepping out of the house. The high temperature makes sweat build and the humidity ruins your hair and overall mood, Summer was never your favorite season but now that you’re pregnant, you despise it.

Whining about it was unintentional, frankly, everyone was annoyed by the heat. At first, Harry panicked and begged you to stay indoors. His biggest fear was something happening to you when he wasn’t near, let alone now when you’re pregnant.

You did comply and stayed home for most of the days, but there is only so little you can do when you’re alone. You tried Pilates and Yoga for pregnant women with different instructors on YouTube, cooked new recipes that help with pregnancy, and changed the decoration in the living room twice. You even read some of the books Harry bought.

You’re one month into pregnancy and so far, you’ve only experienced morning sickness, fatigue at night, and frequent urination. The whole vomiting ordeal drains the life out of you, not only is it disgusting but it occurs every day.

Harry was over the clouds ever since he found out about the baby, he wanted to arrange a huge party for the celebration but you were against it and insisted on privacy for the first few months.

All it takes is for you to demand something and he would do it with a sealed mouth. He has been acting quite giddy and clingy, and much more obsessed with your body now that you’re pregnant.

He insisted that you gained some sort of glow even though you look dead after you vomit. The whole sickness part is what made him pouty and apologetic. For the first few days, he teared up and refused to go to his office, there wasn’t much you could say because you were feeling quite shitty.

Then it became less frequent but it didn’t stop him from feeling bad, he kept saying ‘Sorry’ over and over again because he knocked you up and caused all this fuss. He wouldn’t listen even when you assured him that it was just a part of the pregnancy.

Flower bouquets decorated the apartment every single day. He is aware that you have a spacious backyard with a garden that houses different types of plants but no. Every morning he sent out a flower delivery and a handwritten card by him, not the florist.

‘Morning my dove, hope you have an amazing day. Thought I’d give the orchids a try today. Eat well and rest for the little peanut. I love you endlessly. XOXO.’

That was one example out of many. He might as well invest in a flower shop.

As for the unbearable heat, even the poor flowers didn’t handle it. It reached up to 35 degrees every day and you couldn’t move from the couch even though the entire penthouse was air-conditioned.

You weren’t mentioning the temperature on purpose but Harry always listened intently even if your conversations meant nothing. He simply hummed and warned you to not go outside as he was already running errands for you.

It wasn’t until two days later when you woke up to the sound of bags zipping that you noticed what he had done.

“Sweetheart I made you breakfast, please eat it so we can get going to Italy.”

That was all he had to say as you glanced at the set of bags he packed, one of them being unfamiliar. At least five bags were waiting to be picked up by Harry’s chauffeur.

You didn’t have the heart to question anything because you knew that he did it for your comfort, even though he could easily say that it was business for the new branch in Italy.

You enjoyed the omelette with veggies that he prepared as you observed him walking around in shorts and a ‘Daddy’ shirt. Yes, a fucking ‘Daddy’ shirt.

He was making phone calls in Italian, you understood very little but you could tell that he was asking for his yacht and something about his villa.

Maybe it’s the pregnancy or simply your love for him but the way he was handling these things for you and casually strolling in such clothes with his biceps flexing every time he switched the phone from one ear to another with his other hand in his pocket….

Some drool fell on the omelette but it was nothing compared to the wetness between your thighs. He’s already looking like a dilf and you’re only one month pregnant.

“Baby I’ll clean the plates so you can take a shower before we leave. I packed all of your stuff.” He pressed a long kiss to your cheek and caressed your tummy before ushering you to your shared bedroom.

In your head you replied with ‘Yes Daddy’ and he was just taking care of you, nothing sexual!

It’s going to be a torturous vacation.

The flight to Italy was smooth and comfortable, not that he would allow anything less. He used one of his private jets and demanded to land at the nearest airport to his villa so you could avoid getting road sickness.

Whenever work got crowded and pressuring, Harry escaped to Tuscany. He was eager to introduce you to his villa in his haven. The first time he invited you he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, not that he doesn’t usually stare,but Italy is precious and so were you.

You napped on the way to the villa, resting your head on Harry’s chest as he wrapped his arm around your body, not forgetting to leave kisses on your face.

Once you arrived, he thanked his chauffeur and tipped him using a checkbook before asking you to rest and hydrate as he unpacked the suitcases. Of course, you knew better than to offer your help.

Harry’s villa was surrounded by vineyards and acres of land, he decorated it with paintings picked from all around the globe and furniture that was designed by a local Italian artist.

In the center of the living room, he has a wall dedicated to pictures of you together, from trips to random candid shots around the house. Your lip quivered as you thought of the pictures that will soon join the collection but with a new member.

You followed Harry to the bedroom and leaned against the wall watching him unpack your suitcase even though you’re capable of doing it. You approached him slowly and pressed your body to his back, allowing your lips to linger over his shoulder blade.

“I felt that something was different but it was just my baby love.” He discarded the items in his hands and turned around to wrap your body around his.

“Do you want me to help—“

“No. You know how I feel about this. Leave it to me.” His voice was stoic and straightforward, the same one he used around the office.

“What is this suitcase anyway, I haven’t seen it before.” You pointed to the unfamiliar suitcase that you first saw at the penthouse.

“It’s yours.” He stepped aside to reveal a wide range of summer clothes still in their tag, along with different types of bikinis, all being luxury brands.

“Harry! What is this?” You searched through the full suitcase, gasping at the price on the tags. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been with your fiancée because you still haven’t come around to how much he spends on clothes. Let alone on you.

“Thought you’d want to try on new stuff while we’re here and we’re going swimming…” Harry loved to spoil you no matter what the item was. Though he never told you, he gets some sort of thrill or ego boost whenever he sees you wearing clothes that he picked out himself and paid for. Call him him weird, obsessive, or even crazy but his head becomes filled with unholy things when you wear what he chose. As for the bikinis…. With your small bump or at least the knowledge of knocking you up.

May the lord have mercy on him.

There was nothing for you to say except a ‘thank you’, followed by a ‘no need’ from him and a forehead kiss. As you glanced around the room, you noticed that he arranged everything in its place leaving nothing for you to unpack.

“Sweetheart you should start getting ready we’re spending the day on our yacht.” He shouted from the bathroom where he was making sure that all your skincare and toiletries were present.

Harry always referred to things as yours and his, even though everything was paid for with his money, not yours. The sentiment of it made you feel warm.

You glanced at all the pieces Harry bought till your eyes landed on a skimpy bikini that would barely cover your breasts or pussy…

You smiled to yourself as you placed it aside and grabbed a towel to shower. The teasing game between you and Harry was never-ending. You acted like cave people around each other when one of you was half-naked or just looking yummy.

If you were still trying to conceive, you and Harry probably wouldn’t have left the villa not that he isn’t all over you now, because boy he is.

If he wants to wear a ‘Daddy’ shirt then he might as well preach it.

It wasn’t long before you found yourself relaxing on the yacht, as you went through your beach bag to fetch the essentials. A beige dress with a simple cut near the breast area hugged your body as you hid the revealing bikini underneath it.

“Babes, is the SPF with you?” You lifted your eyes upward only to be met with your shirtless fiancée, his arms raised on the doorway and body leaning forward. The shorts were barely hiding anything, his hips were on display and if he tugged the fabric slightly, everyone would be graced with the sight of his cock.

He had an amused smile on as he lazily chewed gum and taunted you with knowing eyes from behind his Gucci sunnies. Handsome motherfucker. You might as well ovulate again right there and then even if you’re already pregnant.

You offered him a nod and tossed the cream in his direction, but why not give him a show too?

You took off your dress in front of him and everyone who was nearby.

The bralette was strapless and tight on your breasts prompting your cleavage to appear plumper, as for the bikini bottom it was a thong.

You kept a casual attitude around him as you folded your dress aside and unpacked the beach bag while sparing him glances to delight in the sight of his clenched fists and tense body.

He was a soft dominant in bed, he disliked all that ‘punishment’ stuff. Pleasure to him is something sacred, if you want to get spanked then ask for it, and if you want soft lovemaking then you should ask for it too.

You weren’t the only ones around, after all this was an area known for welcoming the wealthy so it wasn’t a surprise when you noticed the few other yachts positioned near you.

“Put it on me.” Harry handed you the sunscreen as he stood in front of you giving you a stern look. Whenever he used this facial expression with you, you knew that he was feeling it.

You squirted a small amount of the creamy SPF before lathering it all over his chest and abs, your hands were completely covered as you glided them over his skin.

His body towered over you and you could feel his gaze on you even though he had sunglasses on. He was enjoying your hands all over his hard abs especially when you slowed down your pace to take in the sight in front of you.

Would it be so bad to drop on your knees in public?

“The way you’re rubbing shows me that you’re desperate sweetie.” You avoided responding verbally and instead raised your face to taunt him with a wicked smile as your hands tortuously massaged his skin before reaching his hips and giving extra attention to the fern tattoo. With each glide, his shorts got looser and looser, his happy trail was on display, and when you glanced down you got a peek at his cock by toying with the waistband.

“Should I go for the biceps too?” You put on an innocent act, which he didn’t mind at all. He nodded at your request and turned around to give you a better angle.

“You should sit down, I can’t reach you.” He was taller than you by some good inches and that didn’t stop you from reaching him, but of course, you wanted to play your little game which he complied with.

He took a seat on the sunbathing lounge chair, with his legs spread dangerously. Instead of beginning to apply the cream on his biceps, you abruptly seated yourself on his thigh, not forgetting to let out a subtle moan at the friction or pretend to fix your position by going back and forth on his thigh.

Again, he did not seem fazed by your actions. Not because he’s unimpressed but because he adored it when you were all over him, and it showed when he wrapped his entire arm around your body, giving you easier access to his biceps but also making sure to knead your ass with his palms.

You had to use both hands to rub one bicep and still, it took longer than expected. The more he kneaded your ass, the more his bicep flexed making you drool over his body and push yourself more against him for friction.

“I thought I told you to put protection not ride my thigh.” His voice was delicious, yet so near to your ear which didn’t help your current situation.

“I’m not! Just getting comfy…” You lied to his face and continued to rub the sunscreen on his muscles. His face was inches away from yours trying to intimidate you in a good way. You always get flustered when stared at for too long, and Harry knows how to play his game.

“I can feel the moist and warmness on my thigh.” Your hands stopped gliding at his words, you knew better than to lie, he had you memorized like the back of his palm.

He slowly guided your cream-covered hand to his chest area and moved it along his skin back and forth, his alibi was seeking sun protection but his real motive was to get you riled up.

“You could lie to anyone except the person who made you pregnant.”

Playing dumb was your method. You delighted in touching his skin and toned muscles before asking him to do the same to you. You settled on your stomach, enjoying his calloused fingers running all over your back and shoulders. And of course, you offered him moans.

“You’re in for it sweetheart.” He warned as he headed off inside not even attempting to hide his visible hard on.

Too bad he left before you took off your bikini…

An hour later, you left your initial spot and sailed ahead basking in the cool wind and warm summer sun that didn’t have you begging for winter. Harry brought you refreshing drinks, water bottles, and plates of fruits.

He had switched his attitude and turned into a sweetheart, It wasn’t on purpose, but it’s how he is. He turned on the autopilot and excitedly propped himself near you. He opened a water bottle and handed it to you, asking you to have some sips despite doing that earlier as well.

Then he gave you some cherries and peeled an apple with deep focus, feeding it to you with his hand, before rubbing on your stomach and inquiring if little peanut is causing a fuss.

He rested his head on your tummy, as his lips lingered there for a while offering love to you and peanut with his fingers dancing along your hips and thighs. You swiped your hands through his hair, giving him head scratches making him a satisfied fiancée.

A straw hat covered your face from the sun, and the sound of the waves muffled Harry’s voice. He spoke to your tummy but none of the words reached your ear, but it’s fine since he seemed to have a little private moment with Peanut.

As much as he wanted to bask in this blessing, his job was to check on you. He lifted himself up barely fifteen minutes later and reapplied sunscreen to your arms, insisted on pouring water over your head because the sun was out and about, and fed you an apricot.

Most of the time his gestures are nonsexual but oh well he’s a gentleman, your gentleman, and everything he did turned you on. After leaving you alone earlier, you ogled him as his hands steered the wheel and sailed the yacht. Obviously, his biceps contracted which did not help at all since you recalled rubbing lotion on them. He even placed the pilot hat on his head.

His curls fell all over his face, and his back muscles flexed with every steer of the wheel. The weather was amazing yet the heat followed you here in the form of your fiancée.

There was nothing you could do except spread your legs, as you observed him doing regular things that got you frothing at the mouth.

And now his extensive care and dotting made it much worse. You know that other men do not act the way he does nor take care of their pregnant women this way, you’ve seen some bad examples.

“Are your muscles knotted? Do you want to get up?” His voice pulled you out of your dirty thoughts, showing his concerned face.

“All good.” You smiled at him and pulled his face in for a kiss.

Another yacht approached yours blasting loud music interrupting your little bubble. It was the same yacht that was next to you before sailing, many young adults were on board probably enjoying their euro summer.

Harry got up to take a look scoffing at how loud the music was, they were dancing in bikinis and shorts, distributing drinks, and singing along with the song.

“Scusatemi, potreste abbassare il volume della musica per favore?” He shouted to the group of girls whose yacht was in close proximity.

“Si Bello!” One of the girls replied before sending a flying kiss his way making the others erupt in giggles.

That was your cue to get up. You don’t have much knowledge on the language but you don’t need translation to know that she’s flirting with your fiancée, who was fucking smiling.

You walked toward him placing your arms around his body and waved to the group of girls as if your blood wasn’t boiling. Their faces dropped upon seeing you as they sent a fake smile your way.

“H, let’s continue sunbathing.” As soon as he heard you whispering, he knew you were off. You only used this tone with him when you were mad or up to something devilish. It wasn’t a suggestion as well.

“Of course babe.” He guided you to the huge lounge chair but instead of helping you to lie down, it was the other way around. He didn’t object nor open his mouth and from the look of mischief on your face, he won’t be questioning anything.

You straddled his lap positioning your pussy right over his crotch and inched your face closer, catching his lips in a kiss. You rested your hand on the side of his neck, deepening the kiss as you moved back and forth on his clothed cock.

“Wha—what’s gotten into you?” He panted in between kisses, with his hand wrapped around your ass.

“Am I not allowed to kiss my fiancée?” You didn’t part your lips from his and spoke in a muffled voice.

Ah, so you were feeling possessive.

“Anytime you want babe, you own me.” He played along by kneading your ass and pushing his tongue further into your mouth. Your jaw grew sore from how feverish the kiss was but Harry became relentless.

Your body leaned backward from the intensity of his kiss, and his hands roamed your body, gripping your skin tightly before moving on to another area. He moaned into your mouth and pressed his hard on to your pussy.

You knew that they were watching and that was exactly what you wanted. You didn’t care if you appeared petty or crazy. He was yours.

“You’re such a needy slut.” He had to pull you away by wrapping his hand around your throat. Your lips were swollen and the look of mischief was still painted across your face.

“Look who’s talking, weren’t you flirting around with those girls?” You tilted your head to the side, relishing the way his facial expression changed.

“Watch the words that come out of your mouth dove.” His grip against your throat tightened and the warning in his eyes was serious.

“Or what? You’ll leave and party with them?” His stern look revealed his clear irritation that he could no longer hide.

“You’re getting too mouthy. Up.” He snaked a hand to the back of your thighs, lifting you both in the process.

Again, he isn’t a man who delights in “punishment”. If he wants to be a tease or rough then so be it, he doesn’t have to call it a punishment. The one thing that he would never do is embarrass you in a situation where he is aware of your feelings, and right now you’re jealous.

He didn’t dismiss that, he’ll prove you wrong inside but for now, he has his lips attached to the nape of your neck, while his hand wanders between your hips and bum. Of course, the girls who fancied him were looking as he was all over you.

Once you were in the clear and away from prying eyes, in the safety of the bedroom inside the yacht, Harry switched his demeanor.

He guided you to the bed where you sat at the edge admiring your annoyed fiancée who gave you a promise to destroy you with his eyes.

He stood in front of you, his crotch so close to your face as he raised your chin upward. A curl had fallen on his forehead but it didn’t help in erasing his irritation.

The smell of the summer breeze and salt penetrated the room but was not enough to dismiss his cologne. He swiped his finger over your bottom lip, as your eyes ogled him starting from his pumped chest down to his chiseled abs and toned V line, right where your eye level was.

“I’m going to ask you questions and you will answer in full sentences.” His voice, low and raspy indicated that he was not up for silly games.

“Yes Sir.” You shamelessly tried to take his finger inside your mouth but he didn’t allow it. Instead, you kept gazing at his hips where the shorts were loose.

“Who’s your fiancée?” You felt his engagement ring digging into your neck as he wrapped his hand there.

“You Sir.” You answered without hesitation hoping to get away with squirming your thighs.

“Who owns you?” His pupils darkened and his voice got deeper.

“You sir.”

It stayed this way for a few other questions…

“Who worships you?”

“Who got you pregnant?”

“Who loves you endlessly?”

All of them were followed by a weak ‘You Sir’ as you rubbed your thighs together feeling aroused more than usual just from his veined hand over your throat (and the questions).

“Then why are you being a brat?” He questioned with his face inches away from yours, noses bumping together while you looked into each other’s eyes. His were dark and hungry, yours were bright and needy.

You shrugged your shoulders, avoiding a verbal response, pretending to be clueless about your attitude. Honestly you just couldn’t help it, your blood boiled when you saw how they eyed him.

“Maybe some cock will refresh your mind?” He tugged down on his shorts revealing his thick girth, red at the tip and already leaking precum.

He always knew what game to play, where to touch, what to say and how to make you surrender to him. The fact is that as much as he was obsessed with your pussy and body, you were equally infatuated with his cock.

There was no such thing before Harry, but when it came down to him everything changed, including your perspectives on dicks.

“Poor baby, is that what you want? Craving some cock to make your brain mushy?” He cooed in a mocking tone as he tapped the tip on your bottom lip, not giving you a chance to take it inside your mouth.

You stuck your tongue out at him to show him that you need it, but he definitely had other plans in his mind. His pre cum leaked on your lips and dribbled down your chin, your tongue instinctively tried to lick his cum but he knew you’d try and do that. Instead, he beat you to it and picked them up with his finger observing the subtle pout in your lips when he took them away.

“Hmm so good.” He brought his finger to his mouth and licked it clean to tease you with outrageous moans.

“Please, let me suck on it.” Your eyes darted to his veiny hand that was wrapped around his thick swollen length that is asking to be sucked.

“You do need it… maybe it’ll fix that brain of yours.” He caressed your cheek with his knuckles as one last gentle moment before coming closer, and forcing your mouth open to push his cock in.

His eyes rolled back almost immediately at the warmth of your mouth, you didn’t complain nor protest, you got to work right away as you went down on your knees with your hands going up and down on his thigh, then to the base of his cock where you cupped his balls.

Your warm mouth was heaven to him. For some reason, sinful thoughts began to flood his mind uncontrollably as he imagined you going down on your knees a few months from now as he looks down to get a view of your ruined sight, with his cock in your mouth and your big bump protruding.

“Fuck’s sake! I gave you my seed yet you still get down on your knees like a little slut for my cum.” He groaned audibly, rocking his hips back and forth enjoying the feeling of your tongue licking his cock from the base to the tip.

Whenever you gave Harry a blowjob, you had to use both of your hands. That’s how big he was. One had would be wrapped around the base while the other stroked the shaft and eased it into your mouth where your cheeks would hollow around it, as you swirl your tongue and push his length as far as you can.

The sound of your gagging was music to his ears, let alone the mischief in your eyes as you looked up to him while removing his cock from your mouth to allow the mix of saliva and pre cum to dribble down your chin, before you take him in again and moan as you squirm your thighs and shift.

“Such a good warm hole.” He patted your hair as if you were his pet while he rocked his hips faster in your mouth and smirked at the way his abs flexed.

You were absolutely insatiable when it came to his cock. You already sense the soreness in your jaw but you couldn’t care less. Your head kept bobbing on his cock back and forth, you wanted to drain the cum from him and from the look on his face, it is no secret that euphoria is hitting him.

“Fuck my mouth harder Mr. Styles.” You let out his cock from your mouth with a pop, only to reveal your scratchy voice due to his cock hitting the back of your throat. You smiled back at him with your face covered in cum and saliva, as if you were daring him.

“You won’t be speaking for days.” His hand roughly grabbed a fistful of your hair before thrusting his cock harshly inside your mouth, he maintained a vigorous pace of thrusts as the sound of intense gagging filled the room.

His hips snapped roughly as he treated your mouth like a vagina. Thrust after the other with no remorse, feeling his entire body light up from the heat of your mouth and the skill of your tongue.

Your nails dug into his thighs leaving crescent marks on his skin. Tears were streaming down your cheeks due to his roughness, the sting from his grasp on your hair intensified the feeling of pain and pleasure.

“Oh fuck!” He threw his head back as your nose bumped his happy trail. Everything felt overwhelming. Your tongue didn’t stop for one second, the veins along his girth were caressed by it, let alone his sensitive tip that leaked drop of cum that you happily choked on.

He murmured words of praise followed by a warning of his close release, his grip on your hair got loose as all the blood in his body rushed to his cock.

You broke a new record for holding your breath but it was definitely worth it, the furrow of his eyebrows, parted lips and Adam’s apple that protruded from throwing his head back and swallowing down his throat.

His cock twitched followed by the most lustful moan as he released his load, it flooded your mouth seeing as you had him fully tucked inside. You choked on the large amount of cum and pulled him out to properly swallow what he gave you. Harry was observing your movements making him release even more. Your entire face was covered with cum, some drool and saliva dripped down from your chin landing on your thighs. The cum you attempted to swallow leaked from the corners of your mouth as your hand gripped Harry’s cock tightly, aiming to milk it completely as you stuck your tongue out to not waste any drop.

“That’s it baby…drink it all up.” His sensitive tip oozed more cum into your open mouth, twitching in your hand when you squeeze at the base.

You kept swallowing his seed for what felt like ages, he released a huge load and you got dizzy from thinking about how he gave you such loads almost everyday. No wonder you get pregnant.

“Good girl, swallowing it down your tummy?” You couldn’t reply nor hum, sure you could nod but you were far too gone. After all you’re both equally obsessed with each other.

Your mouth stayed open for a while as Harry swiped his thumb over the corner of your mouth, before bringing it inside for you to suck on.

“Can’t waste any drop baby.” He caressed your cheek lovingly while you attempted to lick your lips and any area that you forgot about. Harry’s low deep voice did things to your body, let alone the sight of his toned body that you were graced with.

There’s just something about your fiancée’s body.

A few moments later, Harry lowered himself to your level pressing a kiss to your temple as he snaked a hand to the back of your thighs to lift you up on the bed with one arm.

He placed you on your back gently before moving his lips all over your tummy down to your legs where kisses your scratched knees from going down on him.

“My pretty girl bruising her pretty legs for cum.” He murmured, rubbing his thumb on your ankle.

If he had kept moaning while you sucked him and ogled his muscled body, or even pumped more of his seed into your mouth, you probably would’ve came right there and then without him touching you.

The way his eyes closed as he bit his bottom lip and clenched his fist making veins protrude in his arm, just to hold back a scandalous moan will always be engraved in your mind.

But of course he did not hold back the moans. He’s too much of a slut to do that.

Your breathing was ragged as his hands explored your lower body, you were already too aroused and Harry just won’t get to the point. Your bikini bottom is definitely wetter than it would be if you had gotten into the water.

“What’s that baby?” He cooed, pressing his nose to your clothed (and extremely wet) pussy. He took a long inhale closing his eyes as his grip tightened on your thighs before opening his eyes again. His pupils had gotten darker.

“I could smell your leaking pussy from miles away. Are you that achy?”

He was mocking you.

It was no surprise that you got insanely wet from making him cum, he knows how easily you can get aroused from the simplest of things like seeing him naked or from his actions as a gentleman toward you.

Besides being feral and primal about breeding you (which he did successfully), he tends to have a certain affinity for smelling your wetness…

Perhaps it messes with his hormones, turns him on even more or he genuinely loves the smell which would be normal as he spends most of his free time between your thighs.

“Harry you know it hurts, just fuck me.” You whined throwing your head back, trying to ignore his devilish grin that tells you he’s up to no good.

“Oh I will darling but how about some questions first?” He took your bikini off so that you were both completely naked and bare for each other.

His muscular body towered over you making you feel safe in his embrace, his cross necklace dangled in front of your face and you couldn’t help but bring your hand forward to move the fallen hair strands from his face.

“Yes love.” You were not sure what these questions were but from the look in his eyes, you knew that you won’t be moving your legs for a few days.

His eyes took in your face features with a cheesy smile plastered on his face, the same one he has on when he tells you that he adores you. He inched his face forward till your noses bumped together and his cologne consumed your thoughts.

His hand slowly reached down to your inner thighs where he rubbed circles dangerously close to your cunt.

“Are you wet because… you wish I could breed you again?…” His eyes burned into yours, his body weight pressing on you.

“…because you sucked me off?” Your breath hitched in your throat when he inserted a finger inside your warm cunt, so that the only sounds heard were the calm waves, the beating of your hearts and the sound of your wet cunt being used.

“…or because you love the idea of being fucked by your fiancée while others want him?” He added in another finger, pushing them deep inside feeling how they got soaked instantly. He fucked them slowly in and out as his eyes raked your facial expression, and relished in the clenching of your warm cunt around his fingers.

“All of them.” You answered as quickly as you could before pouring all of your focus on his fingers, they were now three massaging your folds delicately. Your hands instinctively clung to his back, as you dug your nails into his skin.

“That’s my good girl.” He increased his pace and you knew that some of your wetness must have splashed the sheets. You pushed yourself against his hand for deeper access, making him spank your bum with his other hand.

“I need you inside of me please.” Your begging was frantic and rushed.

“Could never resist this cunt baby.” He pulled his fingers out, and glided his hand over your hips making your skin soaked with your own arousal, as he nipped on your neck (the more hickeys the better).

Heat radiated off your bodies that were intertwined in the best way one could imagine, but both of you needed more. Harry asked for reassurance before lining himself up with your entrance and pushing in slowly.

The first few moments of entering your cunt were better than the whole experience. The clenching of your walls, your warmness, tightness and the tiny whimpers in his ear as your foreheads touch was priceless to him.

It never mattered if the sex was soft or rough, it will always be love making to him.

Love,love,love.

“So fucking tight.” He groaned as he slowly thrusted himself inside your snug cunt, before stilling his hips and taking a deep breath to avoid cumming so soon.

“Full.” It was all you managed to say. Harry’s length could make you cry from how warm and full it makes you feel. Clenching around him is unintentional, it just happens yet you can’t help it. The pain and burn you feel at first made you drool at the mouth, you didn’t mind a little pain kink but whenever his tip pushes through your tight walls, your brain goes numb.

It was as if your cunt itself begged him to go inside. Deeper.

He continued to push himself in till your hips were against each other. You were back in your element, skin on skin, soft rocking, hungry kisses and euphoric feelings.

All the blood was rushing to your engorged clitoris that is growing more sensitive with every passing day, Harry raised your leg over his hip for a deeper angle that made you moan audibly.

His thrusts found a faster pace and you felt the veins on his thick length massage your velvet walls. The sound of wetness echoed in the room as he repeatedly hit your cervix.

“Don’t you ever doubt my love for you.” His tone was both a mix of anger and reassurance. He hated what you implied, how you thought for even a split second that he would look at someone else.

Your walls pulled him in even further with more clenching as you wrapped your legs around his hips and pressed the heel of your feet into his bum in an attempt to get him deeper (if that was even possible).

“I love you.” You whispered through short pants with your nails leaving fresh marks on his skin. His cock worked itself inside your snug cunt, in and out till you could feel him in your tummy, which he probably could too as he was glued to your body.

“Deeper please. Just want you inside.” Some teardrops fell down on your cheek from the pleasure and love you’re feeling and your need for him to be so deep inside. Whenever you had sex, Harry would fuck you so deep you’d feel him for days, yet still it doesn’t seem enough for you.

But his brain worked the exact same way in a repetitive mantra : deep inside y/n, deep inside y/n…

“Yes babylove, gonna leave you sore for a while.” Your bags always contained at least one lube bottle and a cream for soreness because well.. your fiancée is feral.

He picked up his speed with one hand balanced on the mattress and the other pressing on your throat right where his cock reached a few minutes ago.

“This cock made you pregnant. Isn’t that right baby?” His voice was straight out of an erotica book, but you couldn’t reply. You were simply lying down, taking his cock that is thrusting into you hard and fast with your eyes shut as you savored the blissful feeling.

The headboard banged against the wall as the sound of skin slapping filled the room and you almost forgot that you were out in the open on a yacht. Harry imprinted himself everywhere.

His cock fucking you roughly, his hand on your neck, the ache in your muscles, drool on your chin, old and fresh bruises on your skin, your engagement ring and the baby in your tummy.

You let out a string of curse words followed by short words in which you asked him to keep fucking you. The pressure on your neck loosened but only so he could use his hand to pull your face in for a passionate kiss.

“You own me baby. Never forget that.” He stilled his hips for a few moments before pulling himself out, only to thrust back in immediately knocking the breath out of your lungs.

He provided some attention to your perky sensitive nipples right as you stuck your tongue out at him, which he knew was an order to spit onto your tongue. A string of saliva fell from his mouth right into yours before he connected your lips again, moaning into each other’s mouths.

“I’m close.” Your clitoris was so sensitive and lately you’ve been cumming way sooner than you usually do. Your sweaty skin clung onto Harry’s as your orgasm washed over your body with one particular thrust to your cervix.

Harry followed upon hearing you moaning his name as he spurted hot cum inside your walls. The feeling of his seed flowing inside you was peak euphoria. You’re not sure if you could ever have him wear a condom again.

You bit his shoulder knowing how much he liked it but also because you lost your mind when he came inside your pussy. You felt his cum leak from where you were connected down to your thighs and onto the sheets.

“I love being stuffed by your cum.” You whispered a few moments later, earning a chuckle from him.

“Me too my love. Pussy’s made for me.” His fingers danced along your hips and slowly went down near your thighs where he swiped some of the cum that leaked, bringing it to your mouth. You immediately sucked on it and swallowed without hesitation.

“Too fucking greedy. Didn’t let me taste.” He pouted and pretended to be hurt before pushing his tongue inside your mouth.

His cum was still flowing inside your pussy, opting you to clench around his cock. He hissed from the pulsing and swatted your bum as a warning.

“Do you want me to pull out?” He whispered after a few minutes while kissing your temple.

“No just a bit more please.” You shook your head and pulled him closer.

“Whatever you want my love.” Staying inside your warm cum filled pussy was torture, and you knew that of course. His twitching did not go unnoticed but you loved it.

“Do you realise that i’m loyal to you only? I don’t want anyone else.” He murmured with his head resting on your breast.

“I know. You’re mine.” You swiped a hand through his hair before tracing his face with your fingers.

Getting jealous was a natural instinct, but at the end of the day you’re the one he fucks till he’s out of breath and of course you’re the mother of his child.

You’re his and he’s yours. It was as simple as that.

Taglist: @prettythingsworld @slut4marvelmenn @fullofstyles @cherrycokeslay @wandas-lawyer @tbsloneely @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @missmielyhoran @harryssideboob @harrysficreblog @itslottiehere @hsonlyangelxo @gem1712 @adachhi @tpwkkkkk @grapejuicebluesrry @summertime-pills @lhhrryismyhome @marzhshaim @harrystylessslut @keepdrivingkisses @rideeonstyles @swiftmendeshoran @matildasatellite @a-strange-familiar @greivingfortheliving @babyyangel111 @soblavk @straightnogayhs @awesomenavy @infinatetatie @be-with-me-so-happily @harrysrockstarsgf

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crystallilytarot · 3 months

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Your life after marriage. Choose a crystal /rock.

Pile 1 - marble

You will have everything financially. It depends where you want to live, of course, but I see a big, cozy house. Maybe a garden too or just some flowers/ plants and sunshine. A few luxury item too. You will probably move somewhere else with your spouse and it will be hard, at least in the beginning. Or one of you will travel a lot because of work, I think it's more likely your spouse. And it's gonna be hard because you can't spend so much time together. I feel both of you are mature, not neccesseraly like you are older, but you are both emotionally available, understanding and open. So if anything is bothering you, you can talk about that with your spouse always. I feel you both need to pay attention to this, because there are emotions and both of you want to know and understand each other. But sometimes you can get distracted because of work or just because of life, and your responsibilities. So take time to talk to each other always, and this can be a very harmonious relationship. I think you will travel together too, even if you only have time for a little trip sometimes. If you want children, I see a child, but can be that later you have more. I think there will be age difference between the children, if you want more. One of you feel like a little bit of an overthinker or just worry a little too much, but the other person is going to help with that. They feel like a lion or a bear. I mean like they are powerful, succesful, wise but calm too. I see you cuddling after a long day in the couch or in the bed. You can overcome anything together, your spouse is always there for you. It doesn't matter what happened, any bad thing, gossip, they are with you no matter what. And you can give strength and hope to each other. It is a very strong bond between you two.

Pile 2 - rose quartz

I feel either both of you are young or you just don't have so much experience in terms of relationships. Or at least one of you are more innocent in this way. But it can be that you didn't have this kind of relationship before. Because it will be different. Even if both of you were in relationships before, it will be so much more than that past connections. Special in a way. But because of this, you both need to work on this, but you both want to work on your relationship too. You won't take the other for granted. I see that you will always be able to compromise, in any question. Like a win-win situation, but it's not a good example, because neither of you will loose never. Even if you do something for the other person, they will do something for you too. I hope you understand what I'm trying to say. You both find each other beautiful. And it's not even lust, you don't just think that the other person is sexy, but really beautiful, almost like an art. Chemistry is very good too, don't worry. It's a pretty balanced connection. I can see that you will go to dates even after being together 10, 20 years too. I see a picture of those cute older couples. You both can be strong when there is something hard in your life. You can overcome it together, but I see that neither of you want the other to worry, so sometimes you will rather suffer silently than asking for help. This can cause a little conflict from time to time, because it's not like you are bothering the other, they really want to help. I feel like you both are dreamers, but you can work hard too. I can see you both are romantic, it's like from a movie, roses, champagne, jewelry, little gifts, little love notes, everything. You are both so sweet. I think even your wedding will be very romantic, even if you don't want a big wedding, it will be just beautiful. Cooking something together, just really everything sweet. Little conflicts can be happening of course. I think it's just because of a hard time at work, money or for some of you, there will be people in the family or some friends who won't want you two together. Or I think they are just jealous. You don't want to pay attention to them, but they can be toxic, so if you can, it's better to not talk to them at all. It can be that both of you will have some new beginning in the first years of your marriage. Changing jobs, finishing your studies, something like that. So even if you want kids, I think it will happen a little later. Even pets too, I guess, because I think you will need time to get used to your new place together first.

Pile 3 - tiger eye

There are families, who always doing something together. A trip, going to the zoo, decorating for the holidays, kite flying in a windy day. Sometimes it's not even that you talked about it, it's just random. Like the kids say one morning they never seen a lion, okay, so let's go to the zoo. It feels like you always know each other, like your life will be completely different than before, but in a good way. Even in rainy days, the sun is shining for you. Sexual chemistry is very strong here. You can be soulmates. I think you will more likely live in a house with a garden, in the suburbs, or there is a park nearby. Don't get me wrong, I can see that you have everything for a comfortable life, but you can find joy in simple things. Watching the birds with the children. Enjoying a hot drink on a cold day. I think you will have a few gatherings too, birthdays or just enjoying a nice meal with friends. I can see 2 children, and I would say at least 2, can be twins. It's a very nurturing connection, it's like your home is your safe place, for both of you, and for the children too. Both of you are givers, I think the children will be like this too, no selfishness in your family. A very happy, lively home. For outsiders it looks like too good to be true, so you need to be careful who you let enter to your house, I don't think they really want to start a drama, more like some people can be energy vampires. Don't let them bring their toxicity to your well deserved happiness. If you do something creative, you will have more inspiration than before. Or just the inspiration to get up even in a hard day, because you will be happy finally, you will feel like you belong and like your life is complete. I see a lot of gifts, not always expensive ones, but like a little flower from the children. Or someone go out of their way to do something to make the other happy.

#free tarot #pick a card #tarot #pick a pile

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woso-dreamzzz · 2 months

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Power

Katie McCabe x Reader

Summary: You and Katie both know who really holds the power

It was always funny to see the two of you together, going back as far as your childhood.

Katie had always been the more tomboyish of the pair of you, always up to wrestle with the older kids or go careening down the hill on her bike. You were slower in comparison, taking your time and amusing yourself by playing clapping games or making daisy chains.

You shouldn't have worked as well as you did but it must have been fate.

When Katie moved to England, you came with her. There was never any debate about it. Wherever she went, you went.

Football was her passion and you were happy to go along for the ride. She'd found a home at Arsenal and you were more than happy to tag along.

You worked at the local florist, surrounded by flowers everyday. You had beehives at the back of the garden. Your backyard was picture perfect and you grew your own fruits and vegetables.

No one expected someone like you to be engaged to someone like Katie.

"Mate," Leah said as she relaxed back in her seat," Your girl's a dream. I mean, what can't she do?"

Katie tilted her head back so she could peer into the kitchen where you were sectioning out the cake you'd made earlier.

It wasn't often that you two hosted bonding nights but, when you did, everyone came along. Your Pa was a chef so you'd picked up a few things along the way.

Your meals were the stuff of legend between the Arsenal team, with the experience being passed down from older teammates to younger ones as they all sat waiting for the invitation.

"Nothing," Katie replied as you momentarily got distracted by rearranging the bouquet that lived on the windowsill.

"You hit the jackpot," Jen said," I mean, I don't know how you control yourself. If I had a girl like that to come home to everyday, I'd never leave the bed."

"Hey!" Katie said, shoving her friend," She's my fiancée! Not yours!"

Jen laughed, tipping her head back. "I'm just saying! Come on, Katie, you can't say that you've never considered just skipping practice."

Katie winked. "I never said that. I just said to stop fantasising about my girl!"

"So you would stay in bed with her all the time?" Leah teased.

Katie smirked. "You know I would but you know," She shrugged," One of us has to be the breadwinner." She flexed jokingly. "I make enough that she could be my pretty housewife if she really wanted to."

"Real macho, McCabe," Leah said," You're forgetting we once saw you drop a weight on your foot. You're not that smooth."

"I think y/n would disagree with you there." Katie winked. "I'm super smooth. It's why she fell in love with me."

"She fell in love with you because you seduced her, I reckon. All this power is going to your head. Occasional Arsenal captain, Ireland captain and now you're saying you're the man of the house."

"I'm absolutely saying that." Katie flexed again. "I mean, check out these muscles."

"Alright," Jen laughed," Put those guns away before you take someone's eye out."

Admittedly, Katie knew she was talking like she was some kind of hormonal uni boy but she couldn't help herself. She was completely relaxed here, in her own home with her teammates scattered around and you serving everyone cake. She was definitely bigging herself up here but she didn't want to lose face in front of her friends, especially as you breezed back into the room with pre-sliced cake and a pile of plates.

"I hope you're all able to eat this," You said," I know you're meant to be on diets but, surely, you can cheat for the day."

Katie grinned, drunk on the feeling of puffed up pride at everyone's compliments about you. She stood and rested her hand a little too low on your ass to be decent in public.

"Course we can, babe," She said, emboldened by the way you didn't say anything as she squeezed lightly," Everyone loves your baking."

You sent her an unreadable look but allowed her touching, helping everyone get a slice before settling on her lap in the loveseat.

Katie smirked at Jen and Leah, who were sending her similar cocky looks, and she finally moved her hand from your ass to rest splayed out on your hip, dragging you ever closer.

You fed Katie bites of your own slice automatically as she sat manspread on the loveseat, still talking amongst her teammates.

When there was a lull in the conversation, you brought your lips to her ear.

"Vey macho, Katie," You said, watching her throat bob in horror when she realised that you had heard everything," A real man of the house."

"Babe," She murmured back, eyes darting back and forth between everyone to make sure none of them were looking," I-"

"I'm not going to say anything," You said, shutting her up by pressing another forkful of cake into her mouth," I wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of all of the new signings."

"Babe," She said again, shifting a bit uncomfortably as you put more food into her mouth.

"Shh," You said softly," Don't talk just yet." You leaned a bit closer, putting the plate down on your lap so you had a hand free to push Katie's hand to grip your hip harder. "You have your fun showing off for your friends. You do whatever you want but let me make this clear. If you have to be reminded who's really in charge here then I will make sure to remind you. Understand?"

"I understand."

"Good." You smiled and drew away, picking up the plate and nudging Katie's lips with a cake filled fork again. "Open up, baby. I spent a lot of time on this. Make sure to eat your fill."

#woso x reader #katie mccabe x reader #katie mccabe #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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notjustjavierpena · 9 months

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Misbehavior

A/N: I haven’t written spanking in a while, and so I thought I’d treat myself and you.

Summary: You call Joel daddy at the annual 4th of July barbecue. He does not like that.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut (MDNI!), dad’s best friend joel miller, teasing, daddy kink, spanking session, fingerfucking, m masturbation, dirty talk, loooots of pet names, praise kink

Word count: 2.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48831457

Misbehavior

“Honey, will you get the beer from the trunk?” Your mother’s voice is already fading as she walks towards Joel’s front porch. She’s carrying a couple of prepared dishes for the barbecue, your father tagging along beside her as they enter the house.

As you grab the six-pack from the back of the car, you can hear your father say Joel’s name, then the excited ‘there he is’ that’s followed by the known sound of two men hugging; the three slaps to each other’s backs as if counting like a referee at a wrestling match, telling the other to tap out before it gets too intimate. You smile to yourself.

It’s the annual 4th of July barbecue that Joel and your father usually take turns hosting. The last few years, you saw no reason to attend and even stayed at campus a few times to avoid it. Though today, there is no reason to display some kind of independence on Independence Day; you desperately want to see him. Joel Miller. Nothing or no one can flood your brain quite like him.

When you finally enter Miller’s home, everyone has already moved outside to the backyard. You allow your eyes to wander around the living room, trying to avoid looking at the family photos, one including your father, and then at the couch where you had been splayed out just before leaving for college again around Easter.

You tear your eyes away from the living room. You can hear your mother say your name, suddenly remembering the beverages in your hands as she hurries you. The sliding door to the garden is open, and you can smell the barbecue smoke from outside.

When you appear in the door only Joel looks up from what he is doing.

Your name sounds like heaven coming from his mouth as he calls you over. Your legs have already started moving, guiding you towards him as if being led by pure instinct.

He wraps a lazy arm around you to hug you whilst still holding the barbecue tongs in his other hand. You can smell his cologne, the musky scent filling your nostrils and making warmth creep along your chest and down to the pit below your belly button. You haven’t seen him in a while, so it’s only natural that your body responds to him like this.

“I have missed you,” you whisper to him now that you are so close to him, watching his body stiffen for just a moment at the realization of what you are implying. He doesn’t respond though, instead just makes casual conversation like the kind you used to have before he decided to throw caution to the wind. It’s his own fault really.

“Didn’t know you were gonna be home, sweetheart,” he says a little too loudly as he finally pulls away, giving you a warning look. He turns his attention to the burgers again, flipping them over but reaching for his beer as he does it as if he needs something to occupy his mouth. It makes an image of his mouth on your cunt pop up in your head. He drinks slowly from the bottle, lips pursed slightly as he swallows and you watch his throat bob as it goes down.

“No, I needed a few days home from college, missed everyone too much,” you admit, settling the six-pack of beer onto the table where your mother has also placed the homemade coleslaw, “What better time than now since we’re all together? Knew you were gonna host the barbecue party, though I don’t see the pink inflatable dipping pool anywhere?”

“You and Sarah aren’t kids anymore,” he says with a little laugh, not noticing the verbal trap that he has just walked into.

“No, I for sure aren’t,” you pause very briefly, looking from side to side to see if anyone is within earshot. No one is, “But you know this, Daddy.”

You lick your lips, sending him a wink and leaving him choking on a mouthful of his drink.

It feels as though your pulse won’t go down again after that. Even as you talk to your parents and Sarah during the last preparations for dinner, your heart drums uncontrollably in your chest and it’s making you an adrenaline junkie. You just want to shock him again and again and make his life miserable until his only option is to give in to your demand for attention.

When the lot of you finally sit down to eat, you choose to sit down next to Joel opposite your parents. He acts like it doesn’t matter, but you quickly notice his hand curling around the armrest of his chair, holding onto it for dear life.

The conversation flows naturally between the lot of you but you’re barely registering where the conversation is coming and going, not caring about work or school or whatever movie is playing on the big screen.

College rarely offers anything as good as the food you get at home, and with the mission in the back of your head, you moan softly when you finally eat, “Fuck, Mom, this is so good.”

Joel’s hand twitches at the swear word, nearly dropping his fork onto the plate and your mother asks him if he is okay. It’s not that you aren’t allowed to be foul-mouthed, but given the nickname you’ve thrown his way earlier, the swearing is definitely a nudge at him and his stupid rules.

“That’s actually made by Miller,” your father adds, pointing to your food with his own fork, “Good to know you can feed the girl if she’s ever in need.”

Joel forces out a laugh, reaching for his beer to avoid replying to the double entendre of that comment.

You lean over your armrest to rest your head on Joel’s shoulder, hearing the deep breath that he sucks in as you touch him. He powers through like a champ, confident after a sip of his drink, smiles, albeit strained, down at you as you give him an innocent look, “I’ll give your old man the recipe, kiddo.”

“Look at you two gettin’ along,” your father muses. If he only knew that you had your hand underneath the table, resting on Joel’s inner thigh.

The rest of the meal stays like this. You push boundaries, Joel gets semi-hard at your stroking up and down his crotch and your parents are oblivious.

The house goes quiet as fireworks start outside. You stay inside with Joel, making up an excuse about wanting to offer your help with clearing the table and doing the big pile of dishes that won’t fit in the dishwasher. Your mother compliments you with a kiss on your forehead for being such a great daughter, and you beg that she doesn’t hear Joel’s scoff under his breath.

You are standing side by side now but no one is saying anything. The both of you are only listening to the sound of water running and the clink of plates being stacked in the cupboard in front of you, working together in some sort of fucked up symbiosis of two people that shouldn’t be allowed in the same room these days.

There’s a tension. It doesn’t get any better as the minutes go by, even less so when you stretch your body to reach past Joel as you wipe down the counter with a damp cloth.

Suddenly, Joel’s large hand grips the back of your neck. He manhandles you without remorse, ignoring the gasp of shock that you let out, and shoves your upper body down over the clean kitchen counter. His voice is low, annoyed, and aroused, “You. You are a very dangerous young lady.”

“Joel—“

“No, shut up, I don’t think you have earned the right to explain yourself,” he actually sounds angry too. Your stomach drops and you avoid his gaze, but it doesn’t outweigh the tug below your belly button that’s causing slick to dampen your panties. Him scolding you shouldn’t be having an effect but here you are.

“Fuck, I should spank you for being such a dirty girl all evening,” he growls, shaking you a little with his hand still so tightly cupping the back of your head.

You whine, nodding your head carefully.

The realization that this is something you want seems to hit Joel like a train, because the groan he lets out is primal, “Yeah? That’s what the princess wants?”

You say nothing because you know he’ll tell you off for not having permission to speak right now. There’s a dark chuckle behind you, “Let’s see if I can smack the stupid brat out of you.”

One of Joel’s rough hands bunches up the fabric of your dress’ skirt. He pulls it up over your ass and tuts at the incredibly small piece of fabric that you dare call your underwear. They’re covering not much else than your pussy. You’ll deny it if he asks if you have worn them for him.

“Slut,” he mumbles when he hooks his finger into them and pulls them down. The fabric stretches around your skin, nips at your skin when he settles them halfway down your thighs. His knuckle grazes along your cunt on the way, and he makes a low guttural sound when he sees the slight shine on his skin afterward.

“Someone could walk in, Daddy,” you say then gasp; the nickname earns you a quick slap to your behind, not quite stinging but hurting from the surprise of it.

“There’s that name again. You really kiss your mother with that filthy mouth? Someone walking in should be the least of your concerns, sweetheart,” he grabs the curve of your ass, obscenely shaking your jiggly flesh with his hand. His thumb goes inwards after, pressing one of your cheeks outwards to spread you open. He ogles you, admiring the shine along your slit, “You got some nerve looking so delicious when I don’t have time to stuff you with my dick.”

It feels intense already and he hasn’t even smacked you yet, but the anticipation of having his hand resting on the plump flesh of your behind and not knowing when he’ll give you the first blow is exciting beyond what you could ever have imagined.

“Please,” you beg as your cunt throbs and you stick out your ass for him. You want this, you deserve this.

“Quiet or I won’t stop until your ass matches your pretty lipstick,” he warns firmly. He looks up as the fireworks grow louder outside, the celebration is reaching its peak and it gives the two of you both a limited amount of time and the noise level to begin.

Joel’s palm falls heavily against your ass once and you jerk forward, the sound of his skin against your skin bouncing off the kitchen walls. You breathe through it, and he rubs the spot soothingly before repeating the move and hitting the same spot.

Another smack spreads a painful sting across your ass. You try to stay strong, only whimpering softly to make as little noise as possible, but it seems to give Joel the idea that he isn’t going hard enough.

He is brutal during the next slaps. By the seventh one, you are sure that a blush has formed on your bouncy flesh. Your eyes have started to pinch with tears and a single one spills down your cheek and onto the kitchen table.

“You had enough? We’re only at seven, baby girl,” he sounds like a disappointed father. You look over your shoulder to see him flexing his fingers, but when he catches your eyes, his disapproval reaches his eyes as well. He carelessly swats your behind again and another of your tears escapes, “Eyes front.”

You force yourself to look at the kitchen counter again, heart beating like a trapped animal in your chest as your body tries to figure out how to make the pain stop. Joel scrapes his fingernails across the handprint he has created on your ass, and you jolt with a proper cry now.

“Use your words, sweetheart.”

You let out a tearless sob as he scratches and then soothes your skin. You have no idea how to feel, but you know that you want to beg him for something, whether it be begging for more, begging for cock or just begging for release, “Joel, I’m sorry. I w-won’t do it again.”

“Goddamn right ya ain’t gonna do it again,” he clicks his tongue. He steps closer to you to let you feel how hard he is, the bulge in his jeans against the side of your body, “Playin’ a smartass in front of your daddy. Imagine if we both had acted on that damn name.”

You giggle at that, but it isn’t a reaction that Joel seems to like. The hand on the back of your neck squeezes firmly, thumb and index finger pressing into your windpipe, not enough to cut the air off but enough to make you stop giggling. He snaps at you, southern twang like honey despite how angry he sounds. He spanks your ass again, ripples of pain shooting out from the place of impact, “Ain’t funny. Apologize again.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you say with big wet eyes. The grip on your neck disappears altogether, and you’re aware that it’s because you sound so small that he knows you aren’t going to move if he lets go.

“Good girl,” he praises you for not running off and decides that enough is enough, “Ya ever done that before?”

“No.”

“And you took it so well? Knew I had someone special on my hands. You’re amazing, sweetheart,” he continues.

Warmth settles in your chest, heartbeat slowly going down as his soothing words wash over you. A part of you wants to giggle and kick your feet.

Behind you, you feel him crouch down with a grunt (bad knees) to kiss the angry red spots he has made, swatting you gently after. He uses both hands to spread your asscheeks apart, admiring your dripping cunt, “All this just from me being a lil’ rough and giving you my special treatment? You’re dripping wet.”

“Can I come?” You dare ask.

“If you ask for it, use the magic word.”

“Please, Daddy, give it to me.”

“Of course, baby girl,” he pulls his hands back and stretches to his full height again. Two fingers enter you not long after, and a groan erupts from your mouth. He draws them back before shoving them inside of you, meeting little to no resistance from how turned on you are.

“F—“

“No swearing.”

You pant at his touch, taking whatever he wants to give you. The pad of his thumb finds your swollen clit, putting on the slightest of pressure on the sensitive nub as the digit swoops from side to side. Meanwhile, he fucks you open with his fingers, “That what you like?”

You moan desperately and nod, feeling his fingers push down at your g-spot and then curl inside of you. It makes you shiver, wet squelching sounding obscene in the quiet house.

Your orgasm builds quickly, Joel’s work at your body speeding up as he chases your high. He gets more aggressive, but it only tightens the feeling in your stomach. Combined with him working at your clit, you come with a noise that can only be described as pathetic.

“Daddy,” you mewl softly when he pulls his fingers back out of you. You can still feel your heartbeat jump in your cunt, and you rest your forehead against the cool surface of the counter.

“Stand still,” he warns as you eventually try to get up, “Don’t move.”

You can hear the sound of Joel’s belt coming undone, then the button and the zipper afterward. You tense up, “What are you doing? They’ll come back soon.”

“I’m not fucking you,” he says before letting out a soft sound. You can hear him jerk himself off in earnest with the remainder of your slick on his fingers, ignoring the need for a pleasurable buildup.

It feels dirty when he nudges your cunt with the head of his cock, not pushing into you despite how much you’d like that. He comes with a swear under his breath followed by a grunt, spurting white ropes across your folds. Some drip down into your gaping cunt, some onto the floor. You’re beet red.

Then there’s the shuffling of Joel tucking himself away again. He goes to get the paper towels, handing you a few pieces to clean yourself off and crouching down to wipe the droplets off the floor.

The silence is deafening as the two of you are left with thoughts of what you have just done. Joel was right, teasing him like that in front of your family isn’t a good idea.

There’s sudden laughter outside the front door, footsteps too, and you scramble to throw out the paper towel and pull up your underwear.

“Better think of me when you sit in the backseat of your daddy’s car on your way home,” he says when you finally pull down your dress again.

Fuck.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us #joel miller x you #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel x reader #joel x you #joel miller fanfic #my writing #dbf!joel

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 3 months

Text

Someone Borrowed, Someone Blue.

an engagement party, your childhood best friend, one too many glasses of champagne. what could go wrong?

pairing - childhood bestfriend!steve harrington x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. cheating. alcohol mention. so much angst… i’d apologise but i’m not sorry.

word count - 3.7k

author’s note - get it? like, something borrowed, something blue… because it’s a wedding… I was half asleep when that popped into my head and I thought it was perfect, personally. I don’t condone cheating irl, but also… it’s your life, do what you want ;)

as always, reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics!! so, if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging. thanks, angels <3

masterlist. inbox.

The moonlight shines down, glinting off the diamond ring settled on your left hand.

Everyone's dancing, singing, laughing, enjoying each other's company in a rare moment of complete happiness. People keep grabbing you, hugging you, reaching for you to offer their congratulations.

Isn't it just so wonderful? Two people completely in love. Ah, to be young again.

The fairy lights twinkle where they're hung across the garden, acres of grass just begging to be decorated. You'd initially protested this venue - a huge country house in the middle of nowhere, with countless rooms and a huge courtyard.

It's just our engagement party, not our wedding. We don't have to be so extravagant.

This isn't extravagant - not for my family, anyway. Just say yes. I'll plan the entire thing, you don't have to worry.

And so you did. Say yes. To his proposal, the venue, anything he suggests. You can't find it in you to say no, to argue, to fight for what you really want. It isn't worth it.

"There you are, my soon to be wife!"

You take a deep breath, pretending the sound of his voice doesn't make you feel sick.

"My soon to be husband."

He can't see the grimace on your face, even though it's there, loud and clear. He can't read you, has never been able to.

"A car has just pulled up. You expecting anyone else?"

You are, but you won't let yourself get your hopes up. So you lie.

"Don't think so."

"Okay, well... you'll save me a dance, won't you? My mom wants to take some pictures."

You nod reluctantly, patting his arm with as much affection as you can muster.

"I think your brother is calling you."

You direct his attention to where his frat boy siblings are, hollering and yelling for him to come over.

"My guys!"

He departs as quickly as he came, leaving a wave of too strong cologne in his wake.

You take a walk from the garden to the front of the house, curiosity peaked. You scan the parking lot, and your heart stops when you spot the car in the corner.

A burgundy 1983 BMW 733i.

He's here.

You spin on your heel, searching almost frantically, when you hear someone clear their throat. You turn around, and there he is.

Leaning against a pillar, stood in a dress shirt and tailored trousers, hair perfectly styled.

Steve Harrington.

You're half convinced you're dreaming. The world moves around you in a daze, crickets chirping and wind blowing gently. You lock eyes with him, and can't fight the grin that spreads across your face.

“Don’t fret, baby. The life of the party has arrived.”

You scoff but almost run towards him, tripping over in your heels. He meets you halfway, arms snaking around your waist to keep you steady as you wrap yourself around him.

He smells the same. Cologne, spearmint, a faint note of diesel from the car. He smells like home.

Past home, you remind yourself. Not anymore. You have a new home now, with a soon to be husband that doesn’t understand you and a soon to be family that is built on morally questionable money and fake niceties. Steve’s a person of your past, a distant memory, a fading dream.

Except he’s stood right in front of you.

He's staring at you with a look in his eyes you can’t quite place. You’ve never seen it before.

"I didn't think you'd come," you whisper, begging yourself to pull away from his embrace. He doesn't let you go far, keeping his arms around your back as if he's worried you'll bolt at any given moment.

"And miss my best friends engagement party? Never."

"Best friends. We're not five anymore, Steve."

You roll your eyes, punching his arm lightly.

"What, I can't call you my best friend anymore?"

He picks you up, spinning you across the gravel of the parking lot. You're dizzy with it, the world passing by you in streaks of shapes and colours.

"Steve!"

"What?" he laughs. "You don't like this, best friend? What's the problem, best friend? Are you dizzy, best friend?"

"Put me down!"

Steve throws you over his shoulder as you both spin, strong hands preventing you from falling.

"Put me down, Steve, please - okay, okay! You're my best friend! Call me best friend all you want, please!"

Steve's crying with laughter, out of breath and rosy cheeked. He places you back on the ground, smoothing your hair down with rough palms.

You inhale carefully, grabbing onto his biceps as an anchor as you gauge your bearings. You look up at him, and lose your breath all over again.

Chest heaving, tongue darting over his bottom lip, hair mussed but still perfectly styled. He looks a picture, an ancient painting, a statue carved from the finest marble.

"I never want you to stop calling me your best friend," you whisper, so quietly that the breeze takes it.

"Then I won't."

Your hand slips down Steve's arm and into his, fingers linking gently.

"I missed you."

"I missed you so much, Birdy. You have no idea."

The childhood nickname shoots a lightning bolt through your heart, shiver running up your back involuntarily.

The two of you would sit and watch cartoons for hours on the floor of Steve's living room, pressing your little heads together to see the TV better. He'd joke that you sounded like Tweety Bird, all sweet and lispy. The nickname was born that day, and stuck ever since.

"How was California?"

"So good. I'll tell you all about it later. How's your engagement party?"

"It's good."

You try to sound convincing but your voice cracks, giving you away instantly. Busted.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. There's a few people you know back there - from school, the neighbourhood, family. They'll all wanna see you."

"I'll socialise later. Wanna talk to you first."

The intensity in his voice makes you nervous. You realise you're still holding his hand, so you drop it, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You didn't RSVP."

"Didn't get your invite. Travelling."

"I called your mom. She said she'd tell you."

"She didn't."

"She told me she did."

The crickets continue to chirp, gentle breeze blowing your hair into your face. You look at Steve pointedly, unwilling to be the first to break.

"What are you doing here, Steve?"

"It's your engagement party."

"So you've said."

"I haven't seen you in months."

"I tried to call, but you stopped answering."

"Birdy-"

"I'm just saying, Steve. We haven't spoken in months, I feel like you've been point blank ignoring me, I've had to come to terms with the fact that you probably wouldn't be at this party or the wedding and then all of a sudden you just show up? Unannounced?"

"I know how this looks."

"Do you?"

You're not entirely sure where all of this anger has come from, but you can't seem to tamp it down. It's bubbling, simmering, threatening to spill over the surface dramatically any second.

"I wasn't sure I could do this. Any of it."

"Do what?"

"Stand by and watch you make a mistake."

You scoff, laughing at him in disbelief. He's never been one to sugarcoat things, and usually, it's one of your favourite things about him. But not today.

"Don't you fucking dare, Steve."

"Birdy, be real. The guy is a prick. And you want to marry him? You're a smart girl, the smartest person I know. You've got to see that none of this makes any sense."

"So you showed up here to yell at me? Criticise my life choices? Thanks, Steve. Thanks a million. Some best friend, huh?"

"I've done nothing but support you."

"You ran away! Across the country! How is that support?"

"Fine, maybe I can't support straight up stupidity!"

"Am I smart or am I stupid? Which one is it?"

Steve sighs, running his fingers through his hair as he watches you pace the gravel in front of him. You're vibrating with fury now. It's something he's seen before. Something he knows how to navigate better than anyone. He knows you. He knows you need an outlet here.

He also knows that you're never more hyperaware than when you're mad. So, he takes his opportunity.

"I came here to tell you not to marry him."

You stop dead in your tracks, shaking your head in denial.

"...Why, Steve? Why would you say that?"

"You know why."

"No."

You take a deep breath and will yourself not to cry. In the garden, you can hear people laughing, singing along to some 70s pop song you've never liked. You pray silently that no one comes looking for you.

You take a step closer to Steve, standing up straight.

"Say it."

He looks at you incredulously, shocked by your sudden defiance.

"Say it, Steve. If you came all this way to say it, then fucking say it."

Steve steps into you, closing down the space. You don't move, determined not to back down.

"You're going to hate me if I say it, Birdy."

"I don't give a fuck anymore. Say. It."

Steve runs his tongue over his bottom lip, never once breaking eye contact with you. The silence seems to stretch on infinitely, thick and blanketing like fresh snow falling.

"I'm in love with you."

You feel like you've been punched in the gut. You take a deep breath and try to stay on two feet, wobbling where you stand. Finally, you find your voice.

"Fuck you, Steve Harrington. Fuck. You."

He laughs, but there's no humour in it.

"Yeah."

"How dare you? How dare you come to my engagement party and start confessing your feelings? You could have told me anytime, but you chose today?"

He goes to interrupt but you hold a finger up, effectively shutting him up.

"How long, huh? How long have you been in love with me?"

Steve's trembling, chest stuttering with the force of his confession.

"For as long as I can remember."

You haven't looked away from him once. You're frozen in place, suspended in the moment.

"No you haven't."

"You're gonna tell me how I feel now, Birdy?"

"Yeah, Steve, I am. Because I don't believe you. You're King Steve, ladies man, notorious player. You were never seen with the same girl twice in high school. Don't you remember? Sneaking into my room at night, whispering under my blankets about your latest hookup, telling me all the dirty details?"

"I remember," he whispers, voice laced with something like sadness. "Of course I remember."

"You don't get to tell me this now. It's not fair, Steve."

"Why not, huh?"

"Because I've always been in love with you! Always."

Steve stumbles backwards, dizzy and disorientated.

"No you haven't."

"You're gonna tell me how I feel now?" you laugh in disbelief. "I've always been in love with you. Everyone knows it. My parents, your parents, all of our friends... I think the goddamn mailman knew, Steve!"

"I didn't."

"Blissful ignorance," you chuckle humourlessly.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew it wouldn't change anything."

Steve's eyes go wide as he keels over, as if the wind has been knocked out of him.

"Wouldn't change anything? Birdy, it... I-I can assure you it... It would have changed everything."

You both look at each other, breathless and riddled with confusion. There's something flowing through your veins, something unintelligible, something unrecognisable.

"Why would you do this today?" you choke out, sobs threatening to break free. "Of all the days, Steve."

"Because I'm going insane!" he yells, voice raising. "I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't function knowing that you're going to marry a man you don't love. It's ruining my life, Birdy!"

"You don't think it's ruining mine? Huh?"

You take a breath, very aware that if you shout anymore, multiple people are going to come running from the garden.

"This is selfish, Steve. And you're not selfish."

He looks down at you, bottom lip wobbling.

"I am when it comes to you. Always have been."

"You're breaking my fucking heart, baby."

You choke out the words before bursting into tears, sobs wracking your frame. Steve grabs your hand and guides you to the stone steps, sitting you down next to him. Against better judgment, he slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

He smells so familiar, so comforting, that it only makes you cry harder. You bury your face in his chest, fingers tangled into his dress shirt, holding on for dear life.

"I'm sorry," he's mumbling. "I'm so fucking sorry. I had to. I really had to."

"I know," you're muttering back. "I know you did. I know."

You lift your head to look at him only to find he's crying too, years of emotion dripping down his face. You wipe his tears with your thumbs, your heart shattering at the sight in front of you.

Steve's only made you cry once before. In ninth grade, you'd stupidly assumed that the two of you would go to the prom together. Steve had made a joking comment about always being your date, and you hadn't questioned it. Then, one Friday night, he'd snuck into your room to tell you excitedly that he'd asked Lizzy Buchanan to the dance, and she'd said yes. You'd burst into tears immediately, much to your teenage embarrassment, willing yourself to play your cards closer to your chest. Steve had crumbled instantly, crying because you were.

That's how it's always been. He cries, you cry. You cry, he cries. He's just not usually the cause of the tears.

"I'm sorry, Birdy," he chokes. "This was the only way."

"I know," you soothe, rubbing circles into his wet cheeks with your fingers. "I know. You're not the villain here, Steve. You never were."

His eyes are trained to yours, silent communication passing back and forth. The two of you have always had the ability to practically read each other's minds.

You're not sure who moves first - perhaps it's the universe, pulling you together by the strings woven into your chests - but suddenly your lips are melded together, moving as if it's the easiest thing in the world. Steve's clinging to you as if you're his life source, a man in the desert without water.

You tangle your fingers into his hair to tug him impossibly closer, eyes fluttering when he groans, deep and visceral. He spreads his legs and pulls you between them, both of you slotting together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Your tears are dancing onto each other's cheeks, mixing like rain water and gasoline.

Suddenly, you yank yourself from his grip, standing up and smoothing down your silky dress. Steve prepares himself for the yelling, the screaming, a slap that he most definitely deserves.

Instead, he's met with you, chest heaving, skin warm, eyes heavy. You're looking at him expectantly.

"Come with me," you croak, voice hoarse and untrustworthy.

You grab his hand and slink through the front door, up the grand staircase and into a room with a heavy oak door. He follows you obediently, confused but completely trusting.

It's your hotel room. A marriage suite. A spacious, windowed room, with makeup scattered across the vanity and suitcases half unpacked on the floor. The bed is still made, which makes Steve breathe a sigh of relief. He hasn't had you here. The room isn't marred.

The minute you shut the door you're back on Steve, shoving him up against the hard wood. He grabs handfuls of your ass and spins you around, backing you into the cold surface behind you for stability. He lifts you easily, wrapping your legs around his waist as he kisses you again.

Steve trails his lips down your neck as you rock your hips, desperate to find some friction. You whine gently, fingers tugging at his hair a little rougher than intended to get your message across.

"What do you need, honey?" he murmurs, afraid to disrupt the atmosphere.

"You."

Steve throws his head back as he groans, exposing his throat to you. You waste no time in nipping up the expanse of it, sinking your teeth in with no regard for the consequences. You're too far gone now, not worried about looking back.

Walking backwards, Steve tosses you onto the bed, chuckling when you almost bounce off of it. He unbuttons and strips his shirt, pulling his belt from the loops as he goes. You can only lie there and watch, wondering when your best friend became less of a boy and more of a man. He's all corded muscle and tanned skin, freckled and perfect.

Steve crawls between your legs, kissing you tenderly.

"Wanna take my time with you," he murmurs between kisses. "Can't right now. Will, though. Promise."

You feel as if there's electricity crackling across your skin, pulsing and alive. It's never felt like this with anyone. It never will again.

"Promise?"

You can't help the slight insecurity that colours your voice, young and unsure.

"I promise, Birdy. Cross my heart."

He takes your hand in his and places it over his chest, as if to solidify his point.

You nod and kiss him again, desperate to have every inch of his skin on yours.

Steve shimmies your underwear down your legs, tossing them behind him somewhere. Shucking his trousers off, he pushes your dress up and around your waist, groaning when he gets a good look at you.

"Prettiest girl in the world. He doesn't deserve you. Never did."

"And you do?"

"I'll spend every day for the rest of time proving that I do."

With that he's pushing into you, sliding home with one smooth thrust. Both of you gasp, grabbing onto the other person to use them as an anchor.

"Please, Steve," you're whispering. "Give me everything. I want it all."

"You've got no idea how long I've been waiting for this."

"I do," you laugh, "I do. Because I've been waiting just as long."

Steve chuckles and leans down to kiss you, slipping his tongue into your mouth to memorise the way you taste. There's remnants of champagne on your lips, along with the minty lip gloss you've loved for as long as he can remember.

He wastes no time setting a steady rhythm, thrusts deep and measured. You rake your nails down his back, clawing at this skin, praying silently that you leave your mark. Little do you know, you staked your claim on him a long, long time ago.

"S'good, Stevie," you whine. "Fuck, so good."

"Does he make you come? Does he even try?"

You shake your head frantically, closing your eyes when Steve laughs dryly.

"Didn't think so. He can't make you feel the way I can, baby. He'll never be able to."

His words are only pushing you closer and closer to the edge, red hot heat building at the pit of your stomach. Steve places one hand at the base of your throat, the heavy weight of it causing your eyes to roll back.

Your sweat slicked skin is plastered to his, every inch of you pressed together. Steve leans down to rest his forehead against yours, panting into each other's mouths.

"I love you," he breathes, hips getting quicker. "I love you. Fuck, I love you."

"I love you," you sob, back arching as you find your release. Stars dance across your vision as you tighten around Steve, nails leaving crescent moons on the skin of his shoulders.

Steve's right there with you, back flexing and fingers leaving their prints on your hips as he groans. It's the prettiest sound you've ever heard. Your mind loops it for you, playing it on repeat as he collapses his weight on top of your body.

"I meant it," he mutters against your damp chest. "I do love you. Always have."

You kiss his forehead gently, smoothing the hair away from his face.

"I meant it too. I love you. You taught me what love was in the first place, Steve."

He leans up to press his lips to yours, tender and honey sweet.

You realise the gravity of the situation all of a sudden, your heart rate increasing in Steve's ear.

"Hey, hey. Birdy. Don't panic, okay? We'll figure this out."

You think for a moment, weighing up your options in your head. Unexpectedly, you're jumping out of bed, fixing your dress and slipping on your underwear and heels.

"What are you doing, babe?"

You adjust your hair and swipe your fingers under your eyes to salvage your makeup in the mirror, turning to face the man who's now dressing himself frantically.

"Have you had a drink tonight?"

"No, I drove here."

"Perfect."

You grab your purse and stand by the door, waiting for him to follow. When he looks at you in pure confusion, you chuckle.

"Let's run away."

"Birdy... what?"

"Steve. You heard me. Let's. Run. Away."

He scans your face for any sign of hesitation, but all he finds is love. Adoration. Assuredness. That's all the confirmation he needs.

He runs at you, picking you up and spinning you around. Grabbing his hand, the two of you sneak down the stairs, slipping out of the front door as quietly as possible.

You throw yourself into the front seat of his BMW, vibrating with adrenaline as Steve starts up the engine. It roars to life, and you're very aware that people are going to come looking for you.

But you don't care.

Steve links your fingers, resting your intertwined hands in his lap as he reverses. You go to look back towards the garden, but you stop yourself.

"Can't move forward if you're always looking back, right?"

Steve laughs, leaning over to kiss your warm cheek.

"Truer words have never been spoken, Birdy."

He brings the car to a stop before you begin down the winding driveway, looking at you carefully.

"You ready?"

You take a deep breath, grinning at him.

"I've been ready since we were five years old."

He smiles at you, bright and blinding, and there's no doubt in your mind that you've made the right choice.

Can't move forward if you keep looking back, after all.

@enigmaticloki @joekeerysslut @s-trawberryv-eins @wintressoldier36 @mangomastani

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shalotttower · 4 months

Text

Fractalize (part 1)

Title: Fractalize

Fandom: Hunter x Hunter

Summary: Lack of hope creates a strange kind of numbness.

Word count: 3700+

Characters: Chrollo x Reader (female)

Notes: yandere Chrollo, kidnapped, depressed and miserable Reader, Reader is dissociating a lot, morbid pondering, suicidal thoughts, explicit/triggering language/words, Reader's thoughts on possible sexual assault in future. Part 2

Fractalize - making things into smaller copies of themselves over and over again.

Sometimes you stand in front of a mirror and try to picture yourself in another timeline. One where your life didn’t take this specific turn. You try to imagine a different setting, a different apartment - perhaps the one you had before Chrollo started moving you around like a luggage bag. Maybe living in a cottage by the sea or an old farmhouse. Someplace rural, peaceful. With a garden and fresh air, far away from the city noises.

It's difficult at first, your reflection keeps slipping through your mental fingers every time you think the image is set in place. But with practice it becomes easier, sort of, so you can now see yourself clearly as you brush your hair - not here.

A blue dress on, made for nights at parties with friends. Laughing until your stomach hurts and eyes become sore. Making silly faces over alcoholic beverages. Or you can wear your favourite jeans with a high waist and head out to the pub, the same one with crooked stools and a broken sign. Drink cheep bear, eat greasy peanuts from a little bowl, listen to some small band play unknown and unheard songs.

Leave intoxicated, and everything is too fast and vibrant and wonderful until you're back home.

It's your favourite pastime now: imagine, remake and slip.

Imagine. Remake. Slip.

You don't quite remember the last time you laughed, a month ago maybe. Maybe more. Lack of hope creates a strange kind of numbness, dull, cold, you would compare it to a winter plastered all over your insides, but it's almost colder than that. It freezes everything and turns it into icicles hanging off the roof.

Remake, slip.

You have new vocabulary now.

"Mm" - is for when he asks you if you like a dress or a top and it doesn't matter how you actually feel about it, because it's going to end up being worn anyway.

"Okay" - is for when Chrollo sets another fancy meal for you on a dinner table and "Eat, don't be shy".

"I'm not hungry" - doesn't work with him, even if it's the truth. You always eat what's put in front of you, that's the rule, because he's not above shoving the spoon into your mouth, so you spare yourself the tears and sobs that will probably come with that. It's so bizarre: how much effort he puts into keeping you alive when you're anything but.

"Whatever you want" - is for when he asks you something that requires a choice, between two or three options usually. He's not one for an extensive list.

"If you say so" - for everything else.

You used to delude yourself with the idea that if you managed to appear pleasant enough, pleasant-talking, pleasant-listening, smiling a bit here and there, it would gain you some privileges and perhaps a bit more freedom. It did. But never where it really mattered. Those little things were absolutely inconsequential in the grand scheme. Yes, you can have that sweater, dear. No, you can't have your own bed. Yes, you can come shopping with me, if you give me a kiss. No, you can't take walks without me holding your hand.

Yes this and no that.

Those moments were fragile and so very takeable that they didn't give you any sense of accomplishment, just a short respite and bitter aftertaste that made you feel pathetic.

Wasn't worth it.

***

"Do you like animals, dear?" Chrollo asks out of the blue one day. He's reading something on his tablet while you're curled up on the couch, watching TV.

It's a new series that's been on the major channels for a few weeks, a mystery drama about a girl who moves into a house she inherited from her grandfather. The picture provides a distraction enough to have you forgetting where you are for a brief period three times a week.

You pull the blanket higher. "I do."

He knows it.

The girl on the screen finds a mysterious box hidden in the attic. Perhaps there's something valuable inside. Or information about her grandpa; your fingers tug on a loose blanket thread without much thought.

"What kind?"

Or maybe it's just a time capsule with photos and postcards and random objects collected over the years.

Or-

You had a cat before he took you. A foster grey ragdoll with blue eyes who liked to rest on your belly and bump her head against your chin. You called her Miss Whiskerton and kissed her little nose, because she did act like a proper lady - poised, dignified and entirely too proud to eat food mixed with medicine. The worst enemy Miss Whiskerton has ever had in her cat life was the corner of your couch. When you weren't paying attention, she would dig her claws into the fabric and leave thin lines. You hope that someone took her in.

She probably thought you abandoned her.

"Cats."

Chrollo hums in acknowledgment and continues scrolling through whatever he's looking at - maybe news or auction listings, you don't know nor do you really care. You shift under the blanket, pulling your legs closer to your body.

"We can get one, if you'd like."

"No."

Your answer is immediate and short, without thinking. You know it, you know him by now - there's nothing Chrollo does out of spontaneous generosity, it always benefits him in some way. And you've studied him enough to figure that any pet would only be a tool to keep you tamed and compliant. Puppies make life better. Happier, lighter, with goofy smiling faces and wiggling tails. Cats make life better with soft purrs and paws stomping on your chest. They're too easy to love.

"Why not?" There's a sound of tablet set on a wooden surface.

The girl on the screen is trying to solve a combination lock on the box when the TV switches off and your little world of carefully shot scenes and scripted lines vanishes. You don't need to turn around to guess where's the remote.

She almost had it, but now you won't know what's inside until Thursday evening.

Your reflection stares back from the dead screen, blank-faced and with a blanket pulled up your nose. It tickles a bit. "Because I don't want one."

A chair creaks. "Why?"

You close your eyes shut for a moment before opening them again. This is tiring. Always probing, digging, pushing. Trying to find chinks in your armor, but all you're wearing is just a flimsy dress with thin straps and a blanket you wish could swallow you whole.

"Don't need it."

"You said you like animals," Chrollo sits next to you and places a hand on top of your covered legs. He squeezes your thigh and you stare ahead, wishing he would just leave you alone tonight.

"I do." Your fingers twitch under the blanket, nails scratching at the fabric.

Strange. Sometimes it feels like he understands perfectly that you want to be alone, have time for yourself and don't want his constant physical presence. At the same time Chrollo brushes this all aside like old tin foil wrappers - insignificant. He pulls the blanket down and you cling on it stubbornly for a few seconds before letting go. His thumb and index finger grasp your chin and turn your face towards him so you have no choice but to meet his eyes.

There's such still intensity within him that made your skin crawl whenever he looked at you with this much focus and attention. You don't know what he saw there most times, it used to be fear or anger or sadness - right now it's none of these things. Everything inside you feels jammed and stiff.

"We should get a fish then," he continues, brushing hair out of your forehead. "You can watch it swim around, wouldn't that be nice?"

Chrollo talks to you like this sometimes, as if you're a child who needs to be convinced to eat veggies or take medicine. Like you're simple-minded and he's reasoning with you out of good will. It's sickening. You hate it.

"I don't want a pet," you repeat the words slowly. "If you're going to give me something only to take it away, then I don't want it."

His finger leisurely stroking your chin pauses at the edge of your bottom lip. Something flickers behind his eyes, it's barely noticeable but you've become good at catching those minuscule shifts. He smiles, yet there's nothing joyful about it. "Take it away? Why would I do that, dear?"

"Because that's what you do. Because that's how you are." You don't try to pull free from his hold, he'll only tighten it; not enough to hurt, no, he is too suave and polished for that - or wants to appear so - but enough for you to feel trapped under his palm.

There's something off about you, you can tell, but are not quite able to discern what or where. It sits in the very structure of your bones and eats away with ravenous appetite. An imbalance in the gut. Fever-warm body, cold fingers. Thoughts like potholes.

"And how am I exactly, according to you?" His voice is light, playful, a stark contrast to his eyes that study you with unnerving precision. Chrollo rarely loses his temper and never gets violent with you (yet, you correct yourself), but he has other ways of expressing displeasure, and they're petty, ugly and cold.

"Cruel," the word rolls off your tongue so effortlessly that almost frightens you; it's easy to tell the truth when you're this numb.

He looks taken aback for a split second, and the smile freezes. His hand stops midway to your hair. Then everything's gone.

Chrollo releases you and leans back into the cushions, almost thoughtful, like your observation is something that requires careful consideration.

"I suppose, it depends," he says finally.

"On what?"

"On how you choose to see things. Your perspective is bound to be biased, dear."

You don't respond.

To continue this conversation would be pointless and circular, like running on a treadmill, like everything else between you and Chrollo, really. He simply has too many answers to any possible argument, and no matter how convincing you manage to make them sound, he'll poke holes into each one. You don't want a fish. Or a cat. Or a dog, a bird, anything that moves and breathes and looks at you with big, trusting eyes.

Chrollo is cruel. Not in a way that's straightforward and brutal. Not in a way of someone who'd tear your limbs apart or rip off a fly's wing to see it wiggle. You have no doubt that he is capable of such a thing, but that would be uncouth. Cruelty in his case is a quieter, more delicate affair - in a way of a sculptor who'd chisel off everything unnecessary and unneeded, no matter the size or significance, to produce something entirely his.

His hands are soft, his voice is always composed, and he wears well tailored clothes. But the rest is sharp, clean and merciless.

"I think I'll go to bed," you say and push away the blanket.

"It's early."

"Mm."

He takes your hand just as you're about to slide off the sofa. Chrollo's always faster than you, always ahead and always observing, and that little realization while bitter is not so shocking anymore, more like another fact that you file away from your interactions.

You watch him. Wait.

"You're distraught," he says. "But you should know by now that there's no need for that."

Your hand remains in his grasp, limp and heavy.

"I don't enjoy seeing you upset, dear. Even more if you make false conclusions."

You turn to see the expression on his face - and there isn't one, at least not the type that most people would make. There are no frowning eyebrows, no clenched jaw that would indicate irritation, nothing like that.

"You're giving me too little credit," his tone is quiet as he runs his fingers up and down your wrist. "My intentions are not to hurt you. They are much, much sweeter than that."

"But you would," you say quietly and lean closer, ignoring the obvious implication behind his words. There is a hollow sensation inside of your head that prompts you to speak, everything is hollow - body and mind, heart, the space in your guts, your throat. "You would hurt me, if that's what you thought was necessary. Rip me apart and leave me deformed beyond repair, to fit into whatever framework you've laid, you would do that."

You're not being deliberately cryptic or fatalistic. These are your observations, based on a period of months spent together. They take root in no one being there for you anymore, in your phone which is long gone, in your closed accounts, your missing laptop and old clothes, the entire previous life in the city that has been discarded for something new. Chrollo was very methodical, you can give him that.

He doesn't listen, he studies your responses. Every single word. He has a talent for that, for absorbing everything about you while hardly ever letting you glimpse his interior - all that you know about him are tiny slivers which you picked up through living together, observation, accidental bits.

You expect him to contradict your statement, to offer a logical explanation why you're wrong, but instead Chrollo brings your hand to his lips and presses a kiss against your knuckles. The touch is light and dry.

"You're not entirely wrong, dear," he says and moves closer until you can smell his aftershave, something fresh.

His proximity is uncomfortable, it always is and probably always will be.

"I'm right then," you say.

"No," he keeps your hand in his grasp. "But you're not entirely wrong either. That's what makes you interesting."

There's a strange kind of fondness in his voice, it's subtle, yet undeniably present. You've never felt less interesting in your life, in a dress with thin straps that's too fancy for a lazy day at home and your bare feet and tangled hair.

"If you say so," you respond and slowly tug your hand free. "I really want to sleep now."

You get up, and he lets you go without another proposition. The blanket falls off onto the sofa, and before you slip into the semi-darkness of the bedroom, he says,

"Not beyond repair. But I like to believe we can both agree it doesn't have to come to that."

***

The drive feels endless. Houses and streets blur in a mix of colors, shapes and people, which soon change to an empty highway with greenery on both sides. Trees and fields, tall grass swaying gently in the wind and rare cars passing you by. Chrollo's hand is resting on your leg; he hasn't moved it since the car started, but you choose to ignore it in favor of your regular pastime, the one that's made of imaginary worlds and places where the timeline stretches differently.

Mostly it's just you and the layout of your fake apartment.

Imagine, remake, slip. Repeat the steps until it becomes muscle memory.

You have this daydream on loop now. Wooden floor and wide windows, lots of sunlight. Books everywhere, comfy clothes and not a single skirt in your closet. A cup of tea with honey in the morning, and Miss Whiskerton curled into a soft grey ball on your lap. You feed her salmon in a shiny bowl, occasionally she catches a lizard outside and drops the tail on your doorstep as an offering, looking immensely proud of herself.

A smile slips on your face without meaning to, a wobbly thing; you promptly wipe it off.

It would be a crime to show such blatant joy. This fantasy has become so sweetly personal that every fiber of your being resists even acknowledging it in front of Chrollo. He can sense a stray happy thought from miles away, like a hound, and will never stop prodding until everything is raw and tender. You've learned to say less in his presence, especially if it's something that has you invested. Chrollo knows how to pick things apart.

You lean your cheek against the glass. This world would never happen, never in a million years, but dreaming doesn't hurt anyone, does it?

Your grandma, wearing an apron, sets a tray filled with fresh pastries on a table, because she's amazing like that. She fusses and worries and pretends to scold you. For not calling enough, for not coming sooner, for not eating well. For leaving.

"Dear."

You almost jump.

Chrollo's voice brings you back where his hand is heavy on your leg, you're wearing a dress above the knee and aren't allowed to use scissors or knives.

"Mm?"

"That frown of yours," he says, turning into a small road. The surroundings change again, it's quiet here, not a soul in sight. "It's been there for fifteen minutes now."

You sit up straight and move your hair out of your eyes. Chrollo's a perceptive one, so this is a reminder not to sink too deep around him, unless you absolutely need it.

"Was just thinking."

"You do it a lot lately," he states and looks at you from the corner of his eye.

True, but you have no intention to confirm it. First, he won't like the reason behind these thoughts. Second, he will dig and try to worm his way in. No. Most of what you've been fixating on, staring out of the window like a mindless drone, or reading and rereading pages that you barely grasped, would fail to create anything more complex in his heart than desire to pull it out.

For whatever twisted reason, Chrollo cares for your well-being, or, more precisely, your acceptance of his advances. Yet his way of caring isn't nurturing in any sense.

Chrollo's interest (you don't dare call it love) is crushing, too heavy to carry - he'll find what troubles you and "fix it" in way that will twist it into something pathetic. Something that shows how you have nothing else to cling on but him. You're not stupid enough to keep falling into this trap. Being a slow learner doesn't mean you don't learn at all.

He's done it before. He'll do it again. So you reply, "I haven't noticed."

His thumb rubs circles on your thigh; you press your shoulder against the car door as if hoping it might open. It doesn't, much to your disappointment.

"What was on your mind then?"

Something you shouldn't tell him, that's for sure. Chrollo's watching you, even if his eyes are trained on the road.

"Random stuff," you say. Half-truths, half-truths are safe. "A weird dream I had this morning."

If you bothered to look, you'd see a raised eyebrow and the faintest hint of amusement at the corners of his mouth. You don't.

"Tell me."

You hate when he does that.

"It was boring."

"I'm interested in anything that made you so pensive."

Chrollo likes conversations with you, even if they're short. You can tell that he does, or he wouldn't be trying to make you talk and getting subtly frustrated when you choose not to. It never shows outright, Chrollo is very gifted at keeping his calm exterior, but there are certain giveaways like the slight tightening of his hand, an emphasized "dear", a pause here, or a quiet exhale through the nose. You could make a list out of these.

If you ignore him, he gets quiet and handsy or petty enough to throw away the only dress you feel comfortable in. Stop bringing you new books. Take you to places you hate.

It's always the small things that kill you, not the big, dramatic ones. The devils in the details.

"There was a lizard," you begin, and he hums in response, prompting you to continue. "It was cute with brown spots and a tiny tail."

Lies weave themselves easily, intertwine with truths and turn it into something that resembles a story.

"It was sitting on my windowsill and I wanted to pet it. A cat came out of nowhere and almost ate it, then I woke up. It's a silly dream."

There. Nothing to dissect here, not that you can see. Just a nonsensical dream, filled with random happenings and strange emotions.

"And that's why you frowned for fifteen minutes?"

"Yes, I got sad."

Yes, you think. Yes, Chrollo. I frowned, because I care for the damn lizard that doesn't exist, an animal from a dream. A stupid musing, nothing special, a very mundane and simple thing, because people do have silly dreams sometimes, and it's not a crime. It's not a crime and has nothing to do with that fact that I have a whole dream world where I'm not with you in my head.

"How peculiar. You never struck me as the type to get upset over something like this."

"You never asked," you respond flatly and Chrollo's hand on your thigh moves an inch.

It brushes up, closer to where you really, really don't want it to be, so you squeeze his fingers hard and redirect them to the curve of your knee.

"True," he says after a pause, not sounding too bothered. A month ago you would've brushed his hand off completely, probably that's why. Chrollo is convinced that with enough patience and effort he'll be able to close that final barrier between you both. Time, coaxing, a dose or two of endearment, some carefully calculated touch - but you'd rather stick a knife through your ribs than have sex with him. Or his patience will simply run out and he'll rape you. You're not delusional. Not a fool. "Well, that can be fixed. I'll make sure to ask about your dreams more often, dear."

You lean back into the seat and stare ahead, this time without anything pleasant on your mind. Of course he will. Of course he'll take this as a sign to dig deeper and invade that small bit of solace, Chrollo can't simply co-exist. He wants it all.

"Mm," you say.

Your new vocabulary is such a handy thing.

#hunter x hunter #chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere #hunter x hunter fanfic #chrollo lucifer x reader #shalott fanfiction

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