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americaswritings · 6 months

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Voices of Roses and Ruin | Part II

Warnings: I haven't read the book (yet), Coriolanus thoughts, mentions of poverty, mentions of violence

Summary: Coriolanus thought he would never see you again after you won the Games and he got banished to the districts. But when he does, he is left to question whether or not he can imagine a life with(out) you.

Words: around 2k

Pairing: Young Coriolanus Snow x reader

A/N: You all asked for it so here it is: Part 2! Thank you so much for all the love on the first one. It truly blew me away!! I really hope you like this part just as much. I tried to capture Coriolanus inner conflict here. Also there will be a third and final part! :)

Can be read as Lucy Gray x Coriolanus Snow here

Part I | Masterlist

He hadn't thought he would ever see you again. Not after the gamemaster had sent for him once the games were over and he had found the evidence against him placed on a table.

Evidence that he had helped you, although the rules forbid it.

He had known. There was no denying that and it was below his dignity to pretend so. There was nothing he could say. Nothing he could do except stare at that evidence and wonder if it had been worth it.

If you had been worth it. Ruining his life.

As he had watched you crumble under his painfilled screams in the arena he had been sure to have ruined yours, but now he figured it might have been mutual.

It was what happened in the games, was a part of it. Only he had never been one and there was a sick feeling inside of him as he thought of how he had been used, had used you, had used resources to save you despite the knowledge that it crossed a line.

It was easy to watch the games and all the ways they manipulated people. Turned children into killers and brought out the deepest, darkest parts of humans. How they got manipulated in turn, by the gamemakers and the capitol. Even their mentors. And sometimes how they manipulated the public and the capitol in an act of quiet revolution.

It was oddly fascinating in a way, to see through those lies and perceptions and untangle them. Like they were all pieces on a chess board and he just had to watch them push each other around, taking out one by one.

But to find out that he had been a part of it too, that he had been played made him feel like just another pawn.

But you had won. Even if he would pay the price for it now, he had gotten you through the games. It filled him with pride and a little...relief to know that he had kept his promise.

He hated not knowing if you were safe now, but at least he had held his word. If something happened to you now, it wasn't on him.

But then why was there no comfort in that thought?

Why did there seem to be no comfort ever again, with you gone and his life torn to shreds. All his hopes and dreams crushed within one night.

Had it been worth it?

It didn't matter if he had done it for the scholarship or to save you. But then why did he suddenly feel filled with doubts?

All his life there had only been two colours: black and white. There was no grey, because he firmly believed in wright or wrong. He thought it pathetic when people weeped over the games and how tragic they were, yet found the uttermost entertainment in them.

The games served a purpose and they promised him one of his own, a university career, so he served them. It didn’t matter what he thought about it.

But now he seemed captured in between those two opposites. He knew rationally that it had been wrong to manipulate your chances so you could win. And he saw now where it had gotten him.

But wouldn't he do the same again?

Being with you, gazing into your eyes and wishing you were by his side was wrong. You came from two different worlds and the odds were against you. But then how had he turned into this man, thinking about a woman, letting his feelings guide his decisions and cloud his judgement?

And it went beyond the grey.

When you had stepped into his life you had introduced colours to it he had never seen before.

Red, not the university red, but the colours of your lips, the blood driping down your arms.

Blue, not the lifeless district blue, but the dress you had worn when you had sang during your interview and he haid laid in a hospital bed, mesmerized by your every word and sound.

Brown, the colour of dirt and poverty, but seemed to exist in uncountable shades on you.

And now that had all been ripped from him, just because he had played smarter than the other students.

His days as a peacekeeper were as dull and lonely as he had expected. He kept his gaze narrow, his weapon close and he didn't let his mind wander.

Because then he would mourn all he had lost and it would turn to anger. Fury. A turmoil of emotion he didn't know how to handle.

Sometimes he wondered if his life had only existed in polarity before and you had shown him spectra and ranges he had never learned to balance.

And it made him mad. At you. Because how dare you show him what love and lust felt like, how light it made him feel and how there seemed nothing else to exist in his thoughts anymore, only to rip it all away and show him the other side of it. The loss and the grief, the uncertanity and fear. The lacking.

Sometimes he wondered if he was going mad. Here he was damned to a life in the districts, a simple life, despite knowing he had been born for big things. It was in the name. Snow lands on top.

He pretended to be numb and hollow on the outside, but inside of him raged a storm of emotions that broke him bit by bit. Soon there would be not much left of his pride. To his sanity.

He had convinced himself he wasn't thinking about you anymore.

That his dreams of you were just evidence of his growing madness. And that the hopelessness he felt when he persuaded himself you were likely somewhere far away and not thinking of him anymore didn't exist.

But all the lies he had build opon came crashing down when he caught a glance of that blue, that red and brown and he knew. Knew without a doubt.

His hand was locked around your wrist before he could think about the movement and he dragged you away and into a dark alley, his big hand clasped over your mouth to swallow your screams and his body trapping yours against the wall.

His gaze flickered around to make sure no one saw you, then he allowed himself to look at you.

Your eyes were wide open, staring at him in a mixture of shock, fear and disbelief. Carefully he lowered his hand, his hand tangling in your hair. He had always wanted to do that.

But he didn't step away. He needed to make sure this was real, that you were real. “You're here."

You swallowed, eyes flickering over his face and then the uniform. You frowned, then carefully touched his head. "Your hair- it's gone."

"Not completely."

"It's short." You smiled and he felt his lips curve into one as well, all previous anger swallowed by the reality that you were here. That he hadn't lost everything. He had you know.

"Why are you here? Why are you one of them?" He ignored the way your tone changed and you practically spit out the word. "They found out how I helped you. It was against the rules."

He couldn't keep to himself any longer, not after he had fantasised about you for so long and his hand travelled over your neck, your jaw, cupped your cheek.

Finally, you were his.

He would have leaned down and kissed you, but the look in your eyes stopped him. "I thought you were hurt. I- I thought you were dead!"

Tears were shimmering in the soft light that the moon cast over your face and he caught them and wiped them away with his thumb when they spilled over your cheeks.

"It wasn't my voice in the arena. They used the birds to-" "I know that!" You let out a breath. "But everything they said- you said that to me. Word by word."

He waited silently for you to continue. "But then the screams-" "They weren't real", he tried to soothe you, but you shook your head. "But if everything else was, then...", you trailled of, but he knew what you thought anyway.

"They manipulated you. That's why they used my real words against you, to convince you that it was really me, my voice, so that you would believe everything."

"So they didn't-" You looked at him with so much fear that he almost smiled. "They didn't do anything to me. I sat there watching like I did the whole time."

"But then...how they did to it? And how did they listen to us all this time?"

He knew what you were really asking. Had he known? Had he known about it, but never thought it important enough to mention or worse had he intentionally not told you, because of his own motifs?

Shaking his head slightly he let out a sigh. "I don't know", he admittted. "How do they do anyting?"

You looked at him a second longer before nodding, deciding that you would trust him.

His hand ran down your arms now and he noted in satisfaction that you shivered under the touch. He was sure it had nothing to do with the cold.

"Where were you? After you won?"

After he had yelled at the game master to let you out. Many times.

"Here and there." You shrugged, but he wanted to know more. Needed to know more.

“That's not enough."

Would it ever be? Now that he was in the district and you were here too. Was that enough?

It wasn't the big house, the uniform and status. It wasn't Tigris smile. And it wasn't power.

It was just you and him, a whole lot of dirt, hunger and sickness. Lacking. Was that a life he could settle for?

Until now this had only been a station in his life. He would get back to the capitol and claim what belonged to him or else he would not see a future for himself.

But now things were different.

"I didn‘t know where to go. I thought after the games my life would be different, but I am still here and everything's the same except that I'm a killer.“

You closed your eyes and an expression of pain crossed your face. He let out a breath as he tried to soothe away the frown. "Don't say that." "But it's true." You looked at him with loathing in your eyes.

"You gave me the tools to kill and I used them. We’re both guilty."

"So? Everyone is. It's what needed to be done." He didn't get your fuss. All that mattered was you and him and you had gotten that.

"I would still make the same choices." "You would?" He nodded. "You matter more than them."

You frowned, heaviness in your eyes. "I don't." "To me you do."

It was true. He didn't know much, didn't understand these new feelings, but this one thing he could promise you was the truth.

Closing your eyes you leaned your foreheads against each other's, finding a glimmer of peace in each others presence. "To me you do too."

It was barely above a whisper, but he opened his eyes to search yours. For a moment you were locked in each other's gazes, but even though it felt like it in this moment, you would never have all the time in the world.

Cupping your cheek a final time Coriolanus closed the distance between you.

Your lips were dry and tasted a little like salt where the tears had touched them, but he savoured the feeling. Your body was trapped between the wall and his and he wanted to explore every part of it, make you completely and utterly his.

The kiss was all shades and ranges of colour he didn‘t know existed and he only knew he wanted more of it. It was addicting, this new feeling that only you seemed to hold the key to.

When you broke apart a sad smile hung on your lips. Before he could ask you about it you cast your eyes down. "They are talking about us. In the capitol. When they used your voice and I...fell for it- they made it into a whole story."

He closed his eyes. He had considered that possibility, yet he hated how he felt the control slipping from him. He had always contained an image and now he felt like other people were deciding it.

"They will forget about it." "They won't. You know it. I can't ever go back."

When he opened his eyes again he saw shock and understanding in yours. "But you...want to go back", you concluded and he didn't deny it. It had always been the scholarship for him, the way up.

He was a Snow, born into greatness. It was his duty to claim what should have been his all along.

You ducked away and took a step to the side, bringing a distance between your bodies he hated.

"This is not my life." You knew that, didn‘t you? Or had you expected him to give up everything for what…love? This feeling of lightness and colour and sweetness?

Even if it gave him a flicker of lust and the power he yearned for, it was not the same.

Because even if your love was strong enough, it would never exist without hunger, worry and a job below his worth. And he was tired, so tired of living like that.

That was why he had taken on the mentorship in the first place. Why he had even gone to such lengths to get the public to pay attention to you and then to save you.

For a different life. A better one. A life in the district was far from it.

Your eyes flickered around as you took in your own district. The one he had spent his last money on just for the possibility to see you again.

And you were standing right in front of him, yet you seemed even farer away now than you had in the arena.

"But it's mine."

Silence settled between you as both of you considered the meaning of your words.

"So all of this...for nothing? You say all these things to me, that you won't let me die and that I'm different and then you break the rules to save me only for what?!"

You shook your head furiously. Desperately. "So you can go back to the capitol and pretend this never happened?!"

He should have felt outrage, but for the first time since he had been sent to the gamemaster and learned his fate he felt numb inside.

"No."

You stared at him in bewilderment, your face a portrayal of the storm of emotion he had felt trapped inside of him for so long. "I would never pretend", he took a stride towards you.

“You changed me. And I think I changed you."

His hands found your face again and to his own surprise you let it happen. "We belong with each other."

You stared at him, a deep sadness in your eyes as you silently shook your head.

"Only not in this world", you whispered, ducking away from his touch and disappearing into the shadows without another word.

He stood there, staring at the spot you had vaished, a part of him leaving with you.

Part 3

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lilasamaaa · 5 days

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Ignorance is bliss | Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre | Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

Word count | 3K.

Warnings | Brief mentions of sexual activities, panic attack, Max and reader get in a fight.

Summary | Max and you have been dating for several months, and everything is going well. Except when paparazzi start chasing you for no reason. Is your boyfriend hiding something from you?

Author's note | This was requested by @butterflyexe ! Thank you lovely for the great idea! I tweaked it a bit though, so I hope you like it! I loved writing this piece but again, sorry for the crippling angst lmao 🥲 Not proofread as usual, oopsie

The doorbell of your apartment rings, and you leap off your couch, opening the door and throwing yourself into your boyfriend's arms.

"Oh, wow," Max says, pressing a kiss to your head. "Did you know it was me or do you throw yourself into the arms of everyone who rings your doorbell?" he adds, laughing.

"Of course I knew it was you," you reply, laughing too. "I've been waiting for you all week. And I noted that your flight was landing an hour ago, so it lined up," you explain, taking his hand and leading him to the couch, where you both sit down.

Max looks tired, the bags under his eyes casting blue and gray shades on his pale skin. He moves to lie down on the couch, resting his head on your thighs, closing his eyes.

"How was the work trip?" you ask, playing with his hair.

"It was great," he finally replies, opening his eyes and meeting yours. "Quite tiring, but interesting. It was nice to, erm. See my colleagues again," he says.

"I still can't believe your company paid for the trip all the way to Australia," you whisper as Max closes his eyes again under your caresses. "If I had known the automotive industry required you to travel that much, I would have applied for the job."

Max doesn't respond, simply taking one of your hand in his and gently stroking your knee with the other.

"You must feel so out of it with the jet lag..." you continue, concerned. "It's a good thing they gave you a few days to rest. When are you expected back at work?"

"Not until next week," Max says, playing with the rings on your fingers.

"And you said you're going to Japan after? That's such a weird ass schedule," you say, making him laugh. "I feel like you travel more than most influencers... Or even athletes," you state, making him open an eye.

"Perks of the job," Max says before planting a soft kiss on your lips, and standing up. "Can I borrow your shower?"

"Of course! You know the way," you wink at him, heading towards the kitchen. "I'll fix us something to eat in the meantime."

Sitting at the small table in your kitchen, illuminated by a few candles and the lights of the city outside, Max devours the plate you placed in front of him a few minutes ago. You silently observe him, both fascinated by the man before you and disturbed by a thought that has plagued you in his absence.

"I've been thinking," you start, making your boyfriend look up.

"Yeah? Tell me," he says, covering your hand with his.

"How come I've never been to your place?"

Max stops chewing, his light eyes fixated on yours.

"I didn't know you wanted to?" he replies, brows furrowed.

"Well I've never asked to, but isn't that how it usually works in a relationship? Once at mine, once at yours?"

"I'm sorry," Max replies. "I didn't realize it was important to you."

You suddenly feel guilty and squeeze your boyfriend's hand, giving him a warm smile.

"Forget it, sorry," you say, getting up to rinse your plate. "That was stupid. You're right, we're fine here."

After dinner, you and Max settle on the couch again, watching some show on Netflix. When you notice Max fighting against sleep, his eyelids heavy and his breath short, you grab the remote before turning off the TV. The sudden silence jolts him awake, and you laugh before pulling him by the arm and leading him down to your bedroom. You make a quick stop in the bathroom to remove your makeup and brush your teeth and, when you come back to the room, you find Max fast asleep under the covers. The sight is endearing. You press a kiss on his forehead before settling next to him, your cold body against his already warm one.

The next morning, you wake up alone in a cold bed. A familiar smell tickles your nostrils, and you make your way to the kitchen, your eyes still heavy with sleep.

"Good morning!" Max says, already dressed up, and looking much fresher than yesterday. "I made us breakfast."

"Wow, that's so sweet of you," you say before sitting at the table, taking a hot pancake from the plate in front of you.

"I'm sorry for falling asleep so fast yesterday," your boyfriend starts again. "To make it up to you, I'd like to take you out to lunch."

The offer takes you by surprise, and you stare at your boyfriend, mouth agape. It's been five months since you started seeing each other. Five months since you bumped into him by chance at the Monte Carlo casino while you were out dining with friends. Five months of being inseparable, but also five months of very limited outings. Max travels a lot for work, and you don't necessarily have the means to go out regularly in Monaco. Most of the moments you share therefore take place within the four walls of your apartment, and you're thrilled to get some fresh air with him for once.

"You seem happy," he says, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"I am!" you say, pressing a kiss to his lips. "Where are we going?"

"What about Nobu?" Max says.

"What? Max, that's way too expensive," you reply, furrowing your brows.

"It doesn't really matter, given I'll be the one paying."

"No way," you say. "We're splitting the bill. And I'm not paying three grands for some sushis, as delicious as everyone claim they are."

"They really are. So please, let me do this for you. Just this once? I can afford it," your boyfriend says, making you frown.

His words remind you that you don't know what your boyfriend does for a living. He's talked to you about cars, mechanics, but you're having trouble understanding what kind of job in the automotive industry requires so much traveling around the world. A job that apparently pays very well, given the restaurants he frequents. Realizing there's no point in arguing and not wanting to pick a fight with Max, you simply nod, lips pressed together. However, you're counting on one last point to escape the pricey restaurant and hopefully eat elsewhere. Somewhere more affordable.

"Well, if you insist," you finally say, popping a strawberry in your mouth. "I doubt we'll get a table for noon, though," you add. "I heard you have to book months in advance."

"Don't worry about that," Max says, stroking your cheek. "I need to stop by my place real quick before, can we meet there?"

Two hours later, you're sitting at one of the finest tables at Nobu, facing the sea. The fuck just happened, you think, watching your boyfriend immersed in the menu with a raised eyebrow. How? Before you have time to question it further, a waiter brings two champagne flutes and a bottle in a Nobu-stamped ice bucket to your table before hurrying away, thanking you two profusely for coming.

"Did you order this?" you ask Max, making him look up.

"No, I didn't. That's so kind of them."

"What the actual fuck, Max?" you snap, eyes wide. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?" your boyfriend asks.

"Did you somehow not notice how everyone's been bending over backward for us since we walked in? I think the waitress behind you hasn't taken her eyes off us for the past thirty minutes. And since when do they bring champagne to people who haven't ordered anything?" you say with a worried look. "Are they confusing us for someone?"

"Why are you so worried?" Max asks, giving you a look that's meant to be reassuring but just looks uncomfortable. "Just enjoy the moment. And the view."

You sit back in your chair, biting the inside of your cheek. Something isn't right. You can feel it. Max adjusts one of his hair strands, and the sleeve of his shirt slips down slightly, revealing a watch you've never seen before. It takes you a few seconds to recognize the model, and when you do, your heart skips a beat.

"Is this a new watch?" you ask, trying to act nonchalant.

"What? Oh, yeah. Bought it in Melbourne."

"You casually bought a Rolex Daytona?" you ask, tilting your head.

"I didn't know you knew about watches," Max says, adjusting the collar of his shirt.

"You don't need to know about watches to know that this model costs almost a hundred thousand euros," you say, eyes boring into his.

The tension at the table has risen a notch, none of you uttering a word. As an anxious waiter places several plates in front of you, you glance around, suddenly realizing something you hadn't noticed before, absorbed in your conversation with your boyfriend.

"There's no one here," you say, still looking around. "It's noon on a Saturday, and the restaurant is empty."

Max sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"I know," he finally says, carefully meeting your gaze. "I wanted us to have some peace."

"What? What did you do?"

"I've privatized the restaurant," he says.

"How did you do that?" you ask, unintentionally raising your voice.

"I paid," Max simply says, grabbing a sushi.

"How much?"

"Several thousands!" Max almost shouts, making you wince. "What's up with all your questions?"

You're completely lost. You don't recognize the man you've been seeing for the past five months. The man who comes to your place by foot, usually in sweatpants, who spends evenings watching Netflix with you. Taking baths with you. Passionately making love to you. You have no idea who this new man is, covered in expensive clothes and accessories, on whom all heads turn and who raises whispers as he passes by.

"Who the fuck are you?" you simply ask, feeling your eyes start to water.

"Baby," Max says, finally realizing how uncomfortable and lost you are. "Please, can we just enjoy the meal? I'll answer all your questions at your place. I'll explain everything, but please. Let's not make a scene," he implores.

You swallow hard, staring at the ceiling to dry the tears in the corners of your eyes. For the rest of the meal, Max talks, telling you about his trip, about his life. You politely answer the few questions your boyfriend asks you, remaining silent the rest of the time. You don't even have an appetite anymore, having swallowed three sushi pieces before your stomach threatened to turn.

At the end of the meal, Max slips a credit card into the folder that a waiter has placed on the table, then adds three hundred-dollar bills. Tip, you think. More than what I earn in a day of work. The price of discretion, probably. The waiter leaves with the folder before coming back, and just as he's about to ask for something, Max shots him a look that makes him close his mouth. Your boyfriend thanks the young man before walking around the table, extending a hand that you grasp to rise as well. You thank the still-empty restaurant staff, giving them a genuine smile despite the anxiety twisting your stomach. Max opens the door for you, and you walk out on the street, thanking him.

For a moment, you curse yourself for forgetting your sunglasses at home, as the Monaco sun blinds you instantly. You blink in surprise, but your blindness persists as Max grabs your wrist and pushes you behind him. You try to open your eyes, but flashes keep assaulting you, and it takes you a few seconds to realize that they're coming from huge cameras pointed just inches away from your face.

"Max?"' you ask with a high-pitched voice, starting to panic.

Max turns around, pressing you against him and covering your eyes as he guides you through the screaming crowd. People push you in all directions, pressing against you, touching your arms, your face, crumpling your clothes. Screaming. At first, you can't make sense of what the voices are shouting, with all your senses being overwhelmed. But suddenly, you hear it. Max. They're screaming his name. Max looks up, and a new series of flashes burn your retinas as your boyfriend holds you even tighter against him, one arm around your shoulders.

"I'm so sorry," you hear him say among the voices.

"What's happening?" you ask, panting.

And, then, you feel it. The panic attack. Even though you've never experienced one before, you immediately understand what's happening to you. You recognize the signs. Your legs give way, and you have to cling to Max to keep from falling to your knees. Your heart rate and breath quicken until they're suffocating, while tears stream down your cheeks.

"I can't breathe," you croak, so weakly that you're not even sure if Max heard you.

"Hang on, baby," your boyfriend says, still walking. "We're almost at the car."

The flashes continue, and so do your tears. Max grips you as tightly as he can, shielding your face, lifting you halfway to help you walk. After a few seconds, the longest of your life, you hear a car door open, and Max gently pushes you into his car before closing the door and jumping in. He wastes no time in starting the engine, cutting through the crowd, disappearing into the alleys of Monaco.

You don't say a word. You're unable to speak. Unable to breathe. Still trembling. Crying. You don't realize it, but Max struggles to tear his eyes away from your body, which seems so small, so battered at this moment. He doesn't speak either, biting his lips until it draws blood. He hates himself. He knows he'll regret making you go through this for a long time. But now, all he can do is explain. Lay all the cards on the table. Something he should have done a long time ago.

The journey seems to last an eternity until you catch sight of a gigantic building, and Max drives into an underground parking. He parks the car and rushes out, opening your door, helping you out. You're still in shock, and Max supports you as he guides you to an elevator. A few seconds later, after twist of his keys, you find yourself in a vast penthouse overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. You don't even have the strength to ask questions anymore. To ask where you are. You sit down on the large couch, wiping the tears from your cheeks. Trying to calm your breathing.

Max watches you, standing at the foot of the couch. Bewildered. Not even daring to come close to you. The two of you stand in silence a few moments, until he finally speaks.

"I know it won't fix anything. But I'm truly, sincerely sorry."

You don't reply, head low. playing with the rings on your finger.

"I owe you some explanations."

No reply.

"I'm a Formula 1 driver."

You finally look up, and the mascara streaks on your cheeks squeeze his heart in the worst way.

"I should have told you earlier. I should have warned you, but I couldn't. With you, I discovered normalcy. Anonymity. I discovered what it was live to have an ordinary life, away from the hustle, the stress, the constant judgment."

"So you knew how precious it was," you say, squinting your eyes. "And yet, you chose to expose me to all of those things."

"I hadn't planned for it to happen. I didn't want it to happen. I tried."

"I can't do this," you reply, feeling fresh tears roll down your cheeks.

Seeing you cry again, Max sits on the couch, pulling you close to him as another sob shakes your body.

"Why?" you ask, crying. "Why did you let me fall in love with the person I thought you were?"

Each of your words, each of your sobs break his heart a little more, but he takes it. He knows your anger is justified. Deserved.

"Because I loved you too. And I didn't want this to stop."

"You lied to me," you say between two sobs. "I trusted you. I trusted you so much."

It's too much. Even for him. A tear runs down his cheek. Max wipes it away angrily.

"If you never want to see me again, I understand. I'll come get my things. I'll erase your number. I won't stand in the way of you living a normal life, of finding love with someone normal. You deserve the best, even if it's not with me."

You hate him.

You despise him for having been himself, his most vulnerable self, with you. For charming you with his awkwardness, his foreign accent, his somewhat strict manners. You hate him for being the perfect man for you. You hate him for making your heart beat so strongly. But above all, you hate him for building your love on a lie, on fragile foundations doomed to collapse and sweep you both away in the wreckage.

"I hate you," you sob, making his heart stop. "And I hate myself even more. For not being able to let you go."

"Baby", he says, moving to kneel in front of you. "If you give me this chance, a chance to rebuild everything with you again, I swear that nothing will ever happen to you again. I won't let anyone near you, anyone touch you. Not even a glance. I will rebuild everything around us. We'll be untouchable. Indestructible."

One month later.

"Are you ready, baby?" Max asks, meeting your gaze. "Once I post it, there's no going back."

"I think so," you say, biting on your fingernails. "Let's get this over with," you add, sitting on his knees while the driver presses a kiss to your neck, softly stroking your leg.

"Okay. Let's do this."

#f1 #f1 2024 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x female reader #mv1 #mv1 x you #mv1 x reader #mv33 #mv33 x you #mv33 x reader #lilasamaaa #slowly working my way up all the requests lmao

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thatdeadaquarius · 4 months

Note

GREETINGS! How are you doing? I've been practically gobbling up your posts (there very tasty)

Ok so hear me out- I've seen a couple posts like this but imagine-

The almighty all powerful wise creator isss

✨️A literal child✨️

Thanks for hearing me out! For you ->->❤️

Baby you taking on the world aw

DAMN SORRY FOR TAKING FOREVER!! i started fics before i answered my askbox :/

Aw i fucking love child reader stuff,

Lots of isekai animes/manhwa/manga do it and i eat that shit up everytime-

I also deeply appreciate when its not done creepily, like being turned 8 again, and having crushes on others who are... yknow, actually 8 yrs old or sm fucked up shit, like even if its 16 yr olds that doesnt make it any better, bc the protag will actually be like,, actually 20?!?!💀 the straights r wild man, i feel like it happens either way too, like its usually a male MC but thats just bc theyre more common tbh, like regardless of gender of protag 🥲

☆

Sun: Child God Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: Short Headcanons

Stars: Mondstadt ppl bc i don't show them i love them enough

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: none known & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment any I missed. /gen

Klee has recruited converted you to throwing bombs with her.

You are the only leash on that child too and the only thing standing between Jean and full head of gray hair. 💀

Kaeya doesn’t know whether he’s endlessly worried or endlessly amused that the most powerful god is currently a child

if Jean isnt freaking out over ur whereabouts, Diluc is instead, and worst case scenario, Noelle/Lisa/Albedo is in charge of you

and YES someone has to look out for you, bc ur ass will just start making a hot springs spot like ur in ur teapot or smth in dragonspine (Albedo was fascinated it stayed warm despite the weather so he let you make it/enjoy it before asking u to restore natural order lol)

(Albedo has definitely asked to study you and, unfortunately for Jean, asked u to demonstrate several powers u have)

You do work as a lucky charm for Bennett tho so he does babysit u sometimes

it mostly consists of Fischl, Benny, and Razor “adventuring” by trying to do smth like who can jump on the Anemo slimes and ride them around longest

(the answer is you btw, u managed to get a small fleet of them to bus you around, the teens were simultaneously terrified running around below u to catch you and also amazed)

Noelle is so happy making toddler you all the pancakes you can eat, Sucrose had to stop her from going overboard and not just listening completely to kids when it comes to food

She is now very concerned with making you a balanced diet, tho she will still make u an ungodly tall stack of pancakes every now and then <3

They kind of all equally provide for you, obv ur their god, and ur a literal cutie patootie child, they cant just leave you

(also u might like move a mountain or change the weather or smth if they don't watch you so most are a little paranoid of that too)

Lisa gets u all kinds of cute outfits, still stuff you'd like, but definitely snuck in some sumeru looking clothing lol

Fischl lends you all kinds of books to read, Bennett shows u all the cool views in the city and outside of it (when Jean lets him get away with taking u that far), and Razor…

Razor brings you to Andrius and the wolf pack for a wolf pack party and gives u all kinds of shiny trinkets he’d collected for you

Diluc/Jean/Noelle/Eula nearly had a heart attack when they found out

Amber lets you have all the piggyback rides you want lol

she even managed with her own crafting powers (and your probably editing the game code or smth) she somehow makes a reinforced glider with a small harness on the back for you to glide with her

(Venti has definitely helped for some fun flights by boosting the winds for you two)

SPEAKING OF BARBATOS

ur absolutely spoiled rotten by him (and Dvalin, and Andrius, and the wind sprites)

if this god had money he’d spend it on wine and you lol

takes u flying all the time, any time, would drop everything to go to Mondstadt wilds and use his archon form wings to take you wherever you wanna go

tries to bring u to Angel’s Share but Diluc nearly hits him on the head with a wine bottle and brings you back home after kicking Venti out and giving you grape juice (yes you get all you want, within a healthy amount)

anyway the most important part abt you being a god and child is that you can now fulfill your childhood dreams of riding a dragon whenever you want

(one way to quickly get Mondstadt citizens to trust Dvalin again was just constantly seeing him flying overhead, occasionally seeing a small child on his back also helped lol)

(neither you nor Venti tell Jean you ride Dvalin and keep it an active secret from her.)

☆

srry i took so long! i hope u liked my hot mess of writing (i think its even sloppier than usual bc of all the fic writing full sentences lately)

and if not, I'm sorrryyy 😭😭

I'm focusing on getting thru a haul of asks before getting around to posting that Eldritch AU Part 2 if anyone reads this :)

hope u guys are have a great weekend, thanks for all the birthday wishes!! :D

Safe Travels Anon,

💀��

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck / @questionotmystopit

@kiyomi-uchiha777

#genshin imagines #genshin sagau #sagau #genshin isekai #gender neutral reader #my asks #aqua asks #genshin impact sagau #sagau child reader #genshin child reader #genshin god reader #tiny burst of an ask bc that felt appropriate #more to come today and next few days #THANK YOU FOR THE ASK ANON <33 #:)

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povlnfour · 6 months

Text

ੈ✩‧₊˚ OVERDRIVE (LN4)

pairing: lando norris x f!reader

summary: a practical stranger is determined to change your opinion on cars (and maybe make you fall in love in the process)

word count: 2k

content warnings: brief mentions of alcohol, brief make out, 110% irresponsible driving (don’t take ur eyes off the road kids)

“you’re right next to me, feel the heat, going overdrive” — conan gray, overdrive

cars were never something you understood.

your friends growing up had always had a weird fixation whenever they saw specific models racing down the streets where you lived, stopping to ogle and obsess as they used key words that were entirely lost on you. when you expressed your disinterest and lack of care over a model’s ‘horse power’, you were met with groans of disappointment and a quick change of subject.

perhaps that was why those particular friendships never lasted out of teenhood. they became stagnant over the years when you found new interests and connections that led you elsewhere.

somewhere in the back of your mind, despite time making those old acquaintances nothing more than a distant memory, you wondered what they’d say if they could see you now.

so it stood true that you never understood cars, but you certainly had an affinity for pretty men driving them. and lando norris definitely fit into that category.

sat in the passenger seat of a mclaren model you had entirely missed the name of, you gained a new outlook on what made such cars so good. granted it had nothing to do with the technicalities of the car, and more the way the wind whipped through your hair as lando guided the two of you through the streets of monaco. it was dark by now, but the city still shone bright with the lights from the buildings that towered over you — casinos and restaurants much like the ones you found the driver in to begin with.

you barely spared lando a glance, too afraid to lose focus on the road ahead of you. if you were to spend too long admiring the man you might never be able to look away. he had a certain transfixing aura around him you couldn’t quite explain from just the short time you had known him.

the city whizzed by as lando made green light after green light, turning onto less clustered roads where he could finally show the full potential of the car he was clearly so fond of.

“you look like you’re enjoying yourself no matter how much you’re pretending not to.” lando commented, and for the first time since accepting his offer of a drive home, you turned to face him. he was already looking at you, paying no attention to the roads despite the danger such an action possessed, and you couldn’t help the blush the attention brought to your cheeks. “let yourself have fun. stop trying to hate it so much.”

laughing, you shook your head, amazed at how a man who was nothing more than a stranger to you less than three hours ago already had such a good read on you. you’d have plenty to tell your friends who you had met at the casino in the morning it would seem.

“i’ve got a reputation to withhold here.” you admitted, enjoying the way he laughed as he looked back towards the road that grew quieter with every passing metre.

“not a car person?” lando observed.

“not at all.” you admitted, shaking your head fondly as you recalled those times you disappointed your friends. “i don’t think i’ve ever quite understood the fascination behind it.”

lando hummed, going quiet momentarily. he made an action similar to that of checking a watch, seeming to think over a grand idea. “you don’t have anywhere to be, right?”

it was already long gone two in the morning, he knew as well as you did the answer to that. “besides my bed, nope.” popping the ‘p’, you looked back towards the man driving.

“then let me show you what you’re missing.”

you underestimated to what extent his determination reached until his foot was on the pedal, and the slick car was rushing away from the city with nothing more than a light humming sound. your laughter mixed in with the whisp of the wind as suddenly you shot off into the night with a man who was barely more than a pretty stranger.

lando seemed to enjoy the sound, one hand slipping to the bottom of the wheel so he could rest on the door of his car whilst he eased his way through the roads. he navigated with such an ease you were sure he had done this route many a time before, slowing just enough when he reached cameras as to not be caught, but keeping the experience all the same.

“you’re insane!” you laughed as he skidded the car around a perfectly timed corner, knowing your mother would be crying in fear if she saw how reckless you were being.

“admit you’re enjoying yourself!” lando prompted, still finding time to look over at you once more throughout the journey.

grinning through your lies, you refuted “you’ll have to do more than that to impress me.”

“oh come on!” he whined, no malice or despair in his voice, but a glint in his eye that told he was more than prepared to take the challenge, “you’re a hard crowd to please.”

with that, he shifted the gear once more, finding a corner at which he unexpectedly spun back around on, bringing you back onto a straight towards the city that gave him plenty of opportunity to show off.

“you’re going to kill me!” you squealed, clinging on to the door for dear life as you giggled over the wind once more.

lando barely missed a beat before he shifted speeds once again, offering a playful “i’ll make sure they say you died enjoying yourself in the obituary.”

as you swung another corner, you let the motion pull you back towards the centre of the car, the electricity between the two of you becoming more prominent than ever. lando noticed it too, swapping the hand which held the wheel as his right one found its way to your left. you looked at the contact, unsure for just a moment, until he lifted your arms above your head, letting the recklessness wash over you until it shifted into exhilaration. you couldn’t help but lift your other arm to enjoy it, till you were practically shouting with adrenaline field joy into the night.

the fear of the speed was outweighed by the thrill, and you closed your eyes for a beat, enjoying the simple sensation of wind in your hair and lando’s hand in yours.

when you began to emerge into those more populated areas once more, the sight of red lights up ahead, lando spun once again, masterfully avoiding any disturbance with a practiced ease. the motion threw you further to the side, and this time, the squeal that left your mouth was entirely involuntary. you whipped your hands down from the air, this time choosing to find purchase on lando’s bicep as you steadied yourself.

lando chuckled lowly, making no quick decision to move away. instead, his hand that previously held yours found it’s way to rest on your thigh, holding you in place against the centre console and his shoulder. his comfort made you bolder, so even when you had steadied yourself, the grip you had on his arm only faltered enough to provide him momentarily relief, staying close to his side with your hands still linked now at his elbow.

“if you crash, i’ll kill you.” you joked, lando whipping his head around to face you with a smooth wink in your direction.

“you underestimate my skill, baby.”

the way your heart fluttered at the pet name made you briefly consider your own insanity. speeding down unpopulated streets with a stranger, with no care for what may happen. selfishly, you only wanted to bask in the feeling of his hand on the scarcely clothed skin of your thigh, and the look on his face whenever he met your eye.

you spared a glance towards his lips, pulled taut into a smile as he showed off for you. there was something about his confidence that only added to the compellement you felt towards him.

before you could readjust your attention, his eyes flickered back towards you, and the sharp decrease in speed told he had caught where you were looking. you may have pulled back in embarrassment had the grip he had on your thigh not tightened in response.

the temptation to apologise was quelled just as fast when he brought the car to a less extreme speed, able to spend longer fixating on you without the imminent threat of crashing if he lacked too much focus.

“i’m gonna need you to stop looking at me like that.” he practically growled. “otherwise i’ll do something stupid.”

you considered for a moment, debating just how reckless you would allow yourself to be tonight before the words left your lips involuntarily. “nothing’s stopping you.”

it was as though something shifted in the man, his hand finally leaving your thigh just long enough to bring the car to a halt in a convenient lay-by. and before you even had the chance to react to the standstill, he was pushing back over the centre console and connecting his lips with yours.

his hands found the back of your neck with a terrifyingly practiced ease. one your own gripped onto his forearm, your other finding it’s way between his curls and giving a sharp tug that had him gasping into your mouth. he recovered fast, using his tongue to swipe against your bottom lip in a request you couldn’t deny.

as lando deepened the kiss, he tugged you towards him, one hand slipping down to your waist and helping you across the console without ever having to disconnect your lips. you planted yourself firmly against his thighs, chests connecting as his tongue encircled yours. both his hands now crept towards your ass, squeezing firmly when they found their goal.

you almost automatically rolled your hips down as he gave a tug, eliciting a groan from his lips you so desperately wanted to hear again in a less public situation. he only held you tighter in response, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth in an attempt to gain some power back. you let him take it happily, bracing your hands against the headrest to gain some stability.

you were sure your lips were red and swollen by now, too enticed by the man below you who tasted vaguely of mint from the singular mojito you had seen him nurse all night.

the alcohol in your own system would be little match for the memories of lando’s hands on your skin. his fingers found their way up your waist and between the slits in your outfit so that they could dance along your skin with a wave of electricity.

lando tugged you closer, a feat you didn’t feel possible until your bodies were flush together, your knees taking the brunt of your weight to allow the closeness to remain. you let one finger slip from the headrest to trace the curve of his neck, enjoying the way his muscles tensed in anticipation at the contact. the sly smile it brought to your lips was enough to finally break your kiss, the two of you panting shallowly as your foreheads rested together.

lando took a moment, squeezing your waist as he closed his eyes to regain some of his own sanity.

“i should really get you home.” he muttered, voice void of any real haste “you make it quite hard to let you go.”

as he tilted his head to trail sweet kisses along the side of your jaw, you couldn’t quite help the offer that left your lips. something about the man below you had you believing that a rash decision would somehow be worth it.

“i never said you couldn’t come in.”

lando grinned in response, connecting your lips again as he turned the ignition back on in a clear acceptance of your invitation.

you’d have to clamber back into the passenger seat soon enough, but for one last second you allowed yourself to revel in the realisation that your night was about to get a lot more interesting.

so maybe you didn’t understand cars, but you’d certainly thank them for this outcome.

hello pals

soooo my first one shot ?! on this account at least. i used to write terrible 1d fanfic so this is a step up lmao. written based on overdrive by conan gray, 10/10 recommend

if you’re still here, thank you SO MUCH for reading. feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments/reblogs/asks, i always love reading what people have to say. i have not proof read this bc i hate my own writing so apologies if there are glaring mistakes.

i’ve also only been to monaco like three times but these quiet streets are entirely made up that place is manic (for someone who lives so close i do not go enough)

got some ideas in the brain, mostly around lando but also a few charles and oscar bits as they’re my boys so let’s see how this goes

but for now, big love! taglist can be found in my pinned post along with masterlist i’m slowing filling out🧡

- love, gigi xx

tags: @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicora @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @paolexsstuff @champagnelovers101 @loxbbg @hobiismyhopeu @moonypixel @celestialpato @champagneproblems17

#ੈ✩‧₊˚ works #f1 #f1 x reader #lando norris #lando norris x reader #mclaren #lando norris au #lando norris blurb #lando norris imagine #lando norris scenario #lando norris one shot

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ophelieverse · 2 months

Note

Oppy my baby,can you please please please take in consideration to write something about my man Cregan Stark?🥺🥺

⊹˚₊only you could have called me back home

Cregan Stark x fem!reader

-Summary:reader is from house Manderly and she meets Cregan when they are kids,during his stay at her house she reads him a book about mermaids to help him sleep during a storm.Years later he does the same thing for their children.

-I finally gave in and decided to try.This is the first time that I write for Cregan,even though i love him very much and i can’t wait to see him(I pictured in my mind Tom Taylor)so forgive me if this sucks.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was night,late evening.

The sky,which was usually a dark blue,was covered by a thick blanket of gray clouds that made the stars and that moon disappear,which were supposed to illuminate New Castle of White Harbor.The blue blazon with the green merman holding a trident,symbolizing House Manderly,was dancing in the wind.

A little girl,who seemed to be not older than eight years old,was observing the world and that summer storm,one of many she had seen in just a month.Sitting in her chamber,on the carpet in front of the window that brought into that small balcony,curled up and with her arms hugging her legs,she let her eyes get lost in counting the thousands of droplets that rested on that sheet of glass.

She began to stare at a drop of rain,trying to see it flow along the entire length of the window.But this one soon disappeared,bursting into smaller droplets or joining others.

For Lady Y/n Manderly,the rain made everything so fascinating.

She came closer to the glass,almost squashing her face against the door-windows and waiting for a thunder to arrive.She had never been afraid of thunderstorms,quite the contrary.She found them fascinating.She still couldn't conceive that all that noise and lights came from nature and not from something created by men.

Watching a thunderstorm was more interesting than reading a book.Her mother used to read her dozen of them to help her sleep at night,especially during storms like this one.But at the end,the books in their library all looked alike and never change final.If she didn't want to read them anymore she could just close them.While thunderstorms are unexpected and uncontrollable.But above all,always different.

People can never predict the duration or intensity of a thunderstorm.You can just try to guess or stay and observe it.And Y/n loved to see thunderstorms.

But that wasn't the case for everyone.

The little girl knew for sure that there was someone who instead hated them and had a big fear of them.A young boy,just of two years older than she was,the son of the protector of the North,had revealed that he was very afraid of storms during one.

Lord Rickon Stark had arrived to White Harbor four nights before,just in time for dinner,to discuss with Lord Desmond Manderly,Y/n father,about the union of their houses.A calm but still noisy storm was what welcomed them,alongside the blue and green blazon of New Castle.

Y/n didn't understand what was scary about those lights and noises,but she couldn't help but think about what the boy was feeling at the time.

That boy who was also her husband to be once they would be old enough to marry.They already knew each other,they had met in different occasions and places,yet they had never forged a particular bond or friendship.

Their characters were particularly different and they both knew that they would find themselves colliding easily if they became friends.Moreover, there had never been a particular opportunity to get to know each other better.They were always surrounded by their families,politicians and maidens.

They were simply two children,two heirs of big and powerful houses and one day they will become husband and wife.Nothing more,nothing less.

And yet,at that moment Y/n was just thinking.She was just thinking about Cregan.That was his name and what he had told her to call him when she had addressed him as “Lord Stark” with a polite bow.

Y/n wondered if he wasn't scared.

She remembered once,when there was a tournament in Lannisport,he didn’t showed up to see the horses in the morning when it started to rain.Once again,during a visit a the Wall he had been more restless than usual when he had heard the sound of the thunders.

But didn't the dark sky of the evening emphasize the whole thing even more?

Y/n loved night thunderstorms,she found them even more impressive.But also scary.Especially now that her mother was heavily pregnant and needed to stay in bed to rest,meaning that she couldn’t read her stories to help her sleep better.

In Y/n that fear gave a sudden adrenaline rush,but in Cregan no,she could have said it with certainty.So,after thinking about it for too long,the little girl got up,took the cloak on the chair and without even thinking anymore,she opened the window-door wide and within seconds she found herself on the balcony,while the rain was beginning to increase slowly.

That wing of the castle was where both Y/n and her brothers chambers were,the same place where young Cregan was staying,in the room right next to hers.

Y/n stayed for a while to observe the sky,and the drops of rainwater falling on the palm of her hand that she had turned upwards,fascinated by everything as a child could be.But she hadn't gone out to the balcony to admire all that,no.

If she had only wanted to do that,she would have been content to sit in front of the front door-windows as she had until then,instead of getting wet.

No,Y/n had gone out to check on Cregan.To make sure that he was alright.

Their balconies were connected,divided only by a low wall of light bricks.She had often seen the young boy on that balcony in those days,watching people occupying those crowded streets or just wanting to breathe some air.

And on those occasions they had just waved to each other politely with kind smiles.

Y/n knew that the window on that balcony led to the room where Cregan was staying.

Still in the rain,half protected by the windowsill of the upper floor,she barely reached out her neck to observe the young boy room.But it was dark and the curtains were pulled,a sign that Cregan was probably already sleeping,as he would on any night.

The little Lady wanted to call herself a fool for coming out of her room just to make sure that he was okay,a boy whose she exchanged a few words and nothing else.The same boy that one day would have been her husband but the she didn’t knew nothing about.

Yet,in some way,she was relieved.Relieved that he was not awake yet and afraid of those thunders.

A part of Y/n wanted to go back into her room and go back admiring that storm from behind the glass plate of the window,but first she got closer to the wall that separated her from her neighbor.

To,she said to herself,just to check more closely.Just to make sure.

But check what exactly?

Y/n shook her head.She really had to be out of her mind if now she was worried about an almost - stranger that seemed to not like her at all.She made to retrace her steps,when a curled figure caught her attention.

Sitting on the ground,with his shoulders leaning against the wall of that balcony and with a black cloak on him,he stood with his head hidden by the hood.Still like a statue,with his arms around his legs.Half of his body was protected under the windowsill,while the other half was being wet by that rainwater.

Y/n tilted her head to the side,confused.

“Who is that?And what are they doing?”she wondered.

Even though she knew very well who it was.It couldn't be anyone other than him.

«Cregan?»Y/n spoke without having the slightest control over her voice,attracting the attention of the boy.

Cregan raised his head,which he had kept sunk between his legs until that moment,turning his head then towards the young lady on the other side of the wall.His eyes were usually clear and calm,but now they were wide open with astonishment.

Wide in a way that Y/n couldn't but find adorable.

She ignored these thoughts and just reopened her mouth«What are you doing out here?Don't you see .. ?It's raining.»she asked with a soft tone.

“As if i hadn't noticed,Y/n”Cregan wanted to tell her with a little voice.He wouldn't have put on his cloak if he hadn't seen the rain.

But a part of him decided to keep his mouth closed.Lady Y/n was immensely pretty under the pale moonlight and wet by the rain.He had always been fascinated by her,by the way her eyes shined bright and the way she talked fast about something she liked and knew about.She made him nervous to speak whenever he was around her,she was far smarter and wiser than him even at that young age,always so kind and he was afraid to make a fool out of himself.Especially when he was still scared of thunderstorms.

Cregan didn't answer,just staring at her with his big blue eyes.

«Are you hurt?»Y/n brown furrow as she scanned his pale face to find something.

The rain kept falling and it seemed that its intensity continued to increase as the seconds passed.The trees in front of that castle moved to the right and left,driven by a force they already knew,but which they were still unable to repel.

Cregan shook his head and then spoke«I'm scared of thunderstorms.»he just said.

Y/n nodded«I know that.But why are you outside?»she offered him a kind smile.

Cregan seemed to think about it for a while, undecided whether to say everything to her or keep shut up.But there was something in her,something that was pulling in from the inside.Something that was screaming at him to tell her everything that he was afraid of,because with her it would be safe,she would have kept him safe.She would’ve understood him and comforted him.

He chose the second option and returned to stare at an indefinite point of his cloak,hoping that the young lady with wet hair and sweet eyes would soon leave,leaving him alone.As he had only been until recently.

One day Cregan would have been Lord Stark,protector of the great North and he needed to learn to not be afraid of thunderstorms on his own.But Y/n presence,the little girl that would become his wife,was louder than any thunder and brighter than any light.

In fact she had no intention of leaving.

«I'm scared of thunderstorms.»he found himself repeating and then adding«I really can't stand them.»he murmured.

She listened to him carefully,standing in front of that little wall,while Cregan continued to turn his back on her and look down as he spoke again:

«I can't sleep when there are thunderstorms.And being alone in the room,in the dark with only sudden flashes to illuminate,is scary.»he explained quietly.

Y/n nodded sympathetically,although she didn't find anything scary at all in his description.But for once she tried to put herself on Cregan side.

«So why don't you go to your father?My mother always makes me sleep with her when I have nightmares.»she asked with curiosity.

Cregan shook his head,clutching in that heavy cloak«He doesn’t want to.He say I have to overcome my fears sooner or later.»he said,with a glint of sadness in his eyes.

Y/n curled her nose,confused«And do you get over them by standing in the rain?»squeezing her hands to create a little bit of warmth.

This time he took some time to respond.

Then,shifting his gaze towards the horizon«It's less scary.I can see the lights of the villages and the boats passing by and I know I'm not the only one awake.I know I'm not alone.»he found himself admitting«It's less scary.Or at least I think…»

He didn't know why he was saying these things.Especially to her.For all his ten almost eleven years he had carried that fear of his with him without saying anything to anyone.Revealing his fear only to himself.And seeking comfort only in him.

A comfort that most of the time was not enough.

His father kept telling him that he was grown up by now,that he had to overcome his fear of thunderstorms by now.A fear that was too childish for his age.For the Lord he was destined to be.How could he protect people when he was the first to be scared?He needed to start acting like a man.

But how adult can a ten year old be?

Without meditating on his words,Y/n replied«And are you going to stay out here all night?Until the thunderstorm stops?»her angel face was worried.

Cregan just nodded,without staring at her directly in the eyes.The little girl made a grimace that the other could not see.It was the stupidest thing she had ever heard.Yet she still didn't find the strength to leave him alone.Leave him there alone and go back to her room.

Y/n had felt,she had felt for a few seconds,almost a perceptible thread that drew her to Cregan.Maybe she was just imagining everything. Maybe it was just her childish mind that was playing tricks on her.Or maybe it was just that summer storm fault.

She didn't know,but now she felt tied to the boy with the dark cloak and blue eyes.

«Come.»Y/n voice was firm and warm.

Cregan jolted,surprised to still hear the young girl voice.He thought she had returned to the heat of her room by now.And instead there she is,on the other side of the low wall,reaching out to him with a pure smile on her face.

“She’s cute when she smiles.”Cregan immediately thought,noticing her soft eyes and all her teeth shining in the light of the torches in the street.

He also found her so reassuring.That kind of safety that he desperately needed.

«Where?»he asked confused.

Y/n smiled at him again,getting closer and reaching out her hand again,almost touching his face making him shiver.

«If you spend the night out here you're going to get sick.If you don't want to be alone,I'll keep you company.»she stated fiercely and he knew nothing would’ve changed her mind.

They were simple words.Words of a child of eight,almost nine,years old.Yet Cregan swore he had never heard such beautiful words.No one had ever given him such attention and didn't know whether or not to trust that young lady.

They had met numerous times and now they were even betrothed to each other,but they weren’t exactly friends.

And Cregan was very skeptical to those he knew very little.Especially the ones that made him feel nervous just by looking at him.

He decided to refuse Y/n invitation.

But when he made to decline the offer,the first of many flashes lit up the sky,followed by a noise so loud that raised Cregan hair,or more commonly called thunder.

The boy snapped to his feet in fear.Perhaps the idea of going out,so as not to stay in the dark of his room,had not been the best.Or maybe it was the worst idea that had ever occurred to him and only now did he find it stupid.

«So?Are you coming or not?»Y/n called for his attention again,noting the thin veil of blush on his pale cheeks.

She was younger than him by only two years,yet she was still more mature than him.She had this aura surrounding her,of someone that would have took care of him.Someone he could really start to trust and lay down his strength.A little sun,personal and only for him,to remind him that the storms he was so afraid of were only temporary while she would have been by his side forever.

Cregan found himself shaking Y/n hand,who helped him climb over the wall that divided them, and in a moment he was on the other balcony.

He crossed his eyes again with those of his future wife,who immediately answered him with another sweet smile and opened the window door,to let him enter in the warmth of her room and protect him from that storm.

Immediately closed the door behind them and,after a moment of uncertainty she spoke first«Give me your cloak,i’ll put it here with mine so that tomorrow the servants can wash them.»she told him,taking her off to remain in her pink nightgown.

Cregan blushed even more as he nodded as if in a trance and took off his dark cloak,handing it over to her and revealing a pastel-colored pajamas.

He thought it was impossible for a room to look like it owner,but Y/n bedroom was just like her:a mess of colors,books everywhere and with a pleasant warmth that made him feel safe.

«Why are you still awake?»Cregan suddenly asked,trying to not move around too much.

The little girl took two pillows from her bed and a blanket,walking to the fluffy carpet in front of the old fireplace that the servants had lighted up before she went to bed,once the thunderstorm had started.

«I like to watch the storms.»she said,patting the empty space next to her with one hand«Also,now that my mother is pregnant and my father stays up with his advisors,i need to check on her.»she continues.

Cregan looked at her carefully,the long hair falling free on her shoulders,her perfect face.He was right,she so much mature than he was,already taking care of everyone around her at such a young age,just like a proper lady should.

As he took place next to her on the pavement,still keeping a proper distance between them,Cregan realized that he didn't know anything about her.But he knew how much she loved her mother as he always saw the two of them holding hands.He didn't know if she had the same relationship with her father,who seemed to prefer her older brothers,but he still didn't have enough closeness to ask her for more information.

In fact,they had absolutely no closeness and it could be seen in the silence that fell between the two children.One of those silences that always arise in similar situations,when two people don't know each other but have to spend time together.

«Would you like to do something?»Y/n calm voice sounded even more melodious up close.

She tried to mask that awkwardness with a polite tone,asking her guest with a kind expression.

Cregan spoke little and for the rest of the time he just agreed or disagreed on a certain statement.

The younger of the two was shrinking her minds to think of some kind of game to play together, but the boy next to her would just stare at her,frowning,as if he was annoyed by that situation,while standing close to window of that room like he wanted to escape that situation.

Y/n curled her nose,bored by that sudden superior attitude that Cregan was carrying on himself.

«Look,you can still go back in the rain if you prefer.»she told him,with a sour tone.

She felt bad to see him frightened by that thunderstorm,but if he didn't even show her a minimum of gratitude or a spirit of collaboration, then he could very well leave.Y/n was a sunny child,always with a smile on her face and ready to raise the morale of anyone who needed it.

But“This boy is really unpleasant”she thought.

Cregan crossed his arms to his chest,squeezing his eyes and staring at her,offended and angry at the same time.He thought that he shouldn’t have accepted her invitation and that both their fathers had made a mistake by promising them.They would never get along.

He could very well go back to his room and overcome that storm on his own,as he had always done until then.He didn’t need Y/n help.He made a grimace in the direction of the little girl,who responded to the gesture by raising her eyes to the sky.

But when he was about to open the window door and return to his room,without his dark cloak,a flash illuminated the sky and his face.

Cregan eyes went wide,as he was falling backwards and ending up on the ground on his butt as he waited for the arrival of the thunder that did not take long to arrive.His lower lip trembled,while he couldn't move any muscle.

He hated how thunderstorms could do this to him.He hated how they could make him tremble and frighten.

“They are a normal thing,dictated by nature”his father had always told him.

Yet Cregan didn't believe it.He continued to hate thunderstorms.

And something told him that this fear of his would never go away.

«Cregan.... are you all right?»he heard a soft voice behind his back.

Cregan looked up and saw Y/n standing on her knees on the carpet and he only remembered at that moment of her presence.

The boy gasped,looking for an answer.But before he could speak,another flash lit up the room,and before the thunder could be heard,Cregan had already put his hands on his ears.

The arrogant facade,which he had previously put on,had now completely crumbled, revealing his insecure and frightened side.

Y/n didn't know what to do.

The annoyed face she had a little while ago,was gone.Now she was really worried for him.She just wanted to find a way to distract him,and to put an end to that clash of lights that illuminated the room.

Cregan did not move,with his head resting on his bent knees,and the palms of his hands were still covering his ears,in the vain hope of not hearing that almost metallic and shackled noises.

«It’s alright,don't worry.»Y/n tried to reassure him.But it seemed that no one could move the young boy.

«They usually just make a big noise and then they go away.»she continued with a reassuring voice getting closer to him.

But Cregan was still shaking, scared,and Y/n didn't know what to do.She was never scared of thunderstorms.She would have liked to hold him tight in a hug,to drive away all his fear.But she knew that if she did,she would only make things worse.

In the meantime,Cregan continued to make himself small,smaller and smaller,curled up almost on himself on that light pavement.

«I mean…deep down it's just water,isn't it?Water and lights.As if it were an ocean... and the oceans are beautiful,aren't they,Cregan?»she asked with a hint of hope.

Y/n was used to the water,she lived near the sea and she had grew up running up and down on her fathers boats with her brothers.Her mothers read her stories about fishes,sailors,mermen and mermaids.

And while he did not respond,too busy controlling his fear,Y/n came up with an idea.

«I know what to do!»she almost screamed,catching Cregan attention and shicking around the room,as if looking for something.

The boy looked at her confused,forgetting – but only for a short time – of the thunderstorm.

«There you are.»Y/n exhaled,almost relieved.

Cregan blinked,observing the more confusion she had created throughout that room,the books scattered on the floor and the cabinets wide open,just for that medium-sized old book she now held in her hands,with a proud and satisfied smile.He didn't understand what use that book could have,but he didn't breathe,limiting himself to observing the young girl sitting carefully next to him and opening it.

And then millions of billions of fishes began to swim between the old pages.Cregan mouth widened into an “o”, but he quickly closed it again before Y/n could notice his astonishment.It's just a very simple book of fairy tales,he said to himself.

Yet,in some way,it had distracted him.

«If you lie down on the bed,you can see them better.»Y/n spoke,making herself comfortable on her bed and starting to turning the pages.

Cregan grimaced,watching how she was smiling.That wasn’t proper.

«Why should I lie down-»yet another thunder«Alright... I lie down.»he immediately changed his mind.

He hurriedly took the steps that separated him from that bed,before sinking into the lavander sheets that smelled of flowers and vanilla.

Y/n by his side smiled at him.But Cregan didn’t,remaining impassive and jolting at every thunder.She closed the curtains around her bad,only the soft light of the candle on the nightstand remain.The 'lightning' factor had been solved.

«They're beautiful,aren’t they?»she said,tracing with her fingers the different fishes.

They were.Their shapes,colors,sizes were mesmerizing.

Cregan didn't know to answer again.Those bright,fishes seemed to moved quickly on all those pages in a continuous flow.They were simple,so damn simple,yet they had caught the his attention.

«Yes,they ar–»he tried to agree with her,but here's yet another thunder made him jump out of fear.

Y/n by his side watched him close his eyes and plug his ears with both hands.

She had to find a way to distract him from the sounds too.

«You see him?»she turned the page and pointed to a strange figure on the right corner.

A man with a tail of a fish.

Cregan turned to her,taking his hands off his ears and moving his eyes on what Y/n finger was pointing to.

«It’s a merman?»he sounded uncertain,the figure on the book looked like the blazon of house Manderly.

Y/n nodded her head confirming his question«They said that he loved another mermaid and when the pirates had captured her,driven by grief,he turned his body in marble creating White Harbor.»she explained him,showing him another picture of the place where now she was living.

Cregan looked confused,his eyebrows raising«Why would he do that?»

The girl next to him sighed,her shoulder touching his,the sweet perfume of her hair was tickling his nose.She was warm and soft and made his stomach twist and his hands sweat.

«I guess that he couldn’t live without her and preferred to die.»she simply answered«Years ago i used to cry when my mother read me this story.»she continued as she flipped the page.

In the dim light,he could see that her eyes were a little glassy and only now he remembered that just like him,she was still a child with fears like him and stories that made her cry in her mother arms.

«How about her?»Cregan eyes and hand went to point to a female picture.

A mermaid with a red tale and long wet red hair on her shoulders,sitting on a rock near the coast.Her beautiful expression seemed pained,her mouth opened as if she was saying something.In the distance seemed that a storm was coming,the waves crashing into the shore,dark clouds on the horizon.

Y/n smiled,stretching the book out to him so that he could take a better look«She was a princess that fell in love with a sailor.Her father,the King of the fourteen seas had forbidden their love.»she started to explain with a soft tone«They could see each other only on the beginning of the Long Summer,when her father was away in the ocean»she said.

Cregan yawned«And how did they knew when the Long Summer came?»he seemed genuinely interested now.

«The storm.»Y/n quickly answered«It was her way to let him know that she was waiting for him.She was calling him back to her.»in her expression he could find a hint of teasing.

He shuddered,the thing that scared him the most,for this children book,was just a mermaid calling for her lover.

«But how does he know?»he asked again and his voice was becoming softer,his eyes closing a bit,yet he stayed very curious about the story.

«Does he know what?»Y/n whispered.

«That it was her.»he continued.

«Because he had loved no else but her in his life.Only her could have called him back home.»she explained and he swore he could’ve seen her eyes shine bright.

«I hate her father.»Cregan mumbled.

He found it stupid,it was just a fairy tale to help people sleep,but if the mermaid father didn’t get in the way tonight he would’ve been scared.And that’s also must had been the reason why she wasn’t afraid of them.

Y/n giggles made him blush,as she shook a little onto him«But you know what’s the best part of it?For the rest of the summer there wouldn’t be any other storms,just the bright sun as the two of them could be together.»she whispered.

It was a way to say that after every thunderstorm that would’ve been the sun.Always.

«Wasn’t she scared of her father founding out that they were still together?»his voice was sleepy and his eyes heavy.

Y/n shook her head«Love is stronger than fear.»she stated«Don’t you find it beautiful?»she said then,a dreamy look in her eyes.

There was no answer.

Y/n turned to him,finding him with his eyes closed and his mouth half-open.His chest would rise and fall at a regular pace,while his slight breathing could be heard.She smiled at that sight as she stroked his hair.

Cregan had fallen asleep.Y/n was satisfied.Satisfied and happy.

She succeeded in her intent,help him and distract him from the thing that scared him the most.She wondered what Cregan would do at this time if Y/n hadn’t invited him?

He would probably still have been awake.Because the thunderstorm hadn't stopped,no,it had never stopped.The mermaid was still calling for her lover.

The flashes,however,had mixed in the images on the pages and the noise of thunder had been lost among the stories of Y/n mermaids.Cregan had been so busy observing those images drawn on the book and hating the King of the seas,that he completely forgot about the thunderstorm.

Y/n closed the book,placed it carefully on her nightstand and reached out to grab a thin sheet at the bottom of their feet and covered the young boy who slept well by her side.

«Good night,Cregan.Tomorrow there will be the sun,i promise you.»she whispered kissing his forehead and drifting to sleep too.

And for the first time,after so many years,he slept.After so many years,Cregan was sleeping peacefully with a thunderstorm.

On any day in the early summer,ten years later,Lady Y/n Stark of Winterfell was laying in the bed she shared with her Lord husband.

Wife and husband,that’s what her and Cregan had been for the past four years.But before pronouncing their vows in front of the Seven and their families,they had became the best of friends.

When did they start calling each other that way?When did they become friends?Could they find a precise moment when they had gone from being strangers to even best friends?Were they able to establish the exact moment when their bond changed?

No,they couldn’t.

Maybe it was the year after that fateful rainy night.Maybe it was the next month when Cregan had spent all of his moments and attention in Y/n presence,falling in love with her more and more.

Or maybe it had happened at the exact time their hands had touched,when Y/n had proposed to be together in that thunderstorm,to mark the point of change for their relationship.

They didn't know that though.Neither of them knew for sure.But they didn't even ask.They fell in love with each other before they got married and that was that mattered.There are bonds that are born before the interlocking of the hands and connections that are born before touching each other.It was just pretty to think that,all this time,there was some kind of invisible string that was tying them together.

Anyone who cared for Cregan had to understand that he needed a little looking after.Someone who could help him sleep,who reminded him that he was just human and that he could still a child sometimes.And Y/n understood that,she held him gently,far more gently that anyone ever did.She stayed up with him when he couldn’t sleep at night,she stood next to him to greet the arrival of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon and supported him in his decision to fight for the Dragon Queen.

All because she loved him more than anything and because he loved her.To love and to be loved was to rest.

Yet,now that Cregan was away,on the Wall of the great north with the young prince,Y/n couldn’t seem to find sleep.It was raining heavily outside,the long summer had arrived earlier that year and a violent storm was what welcomed it.

The pale rays of the moon filtered through the clouds,the wind was blowing against the windows,the lights of the lightning shaped the dark room she was in.

Cregan had ruined her,she thought to herself,ever since they got married and started to share the bed she couldn’t sleep if he wasn’t next to her,holding her in his arms,kissing her lips softly and whispering how much he loved her.But she knew that,with the war at their doorstep,he was busy with the young prince Jacaerys who came two weeks ago in ask for the help of the North.

Her husband was a man of honor,the Lord of Winterfell that never forget his oaths.

When a particular loud thunder broke through the quietness of the castle,Y/n got up from her bed.Taking the candle on the nightstand,she started walking down the dark corridor to reach her children chambers.Her sons,Rickon and Brandon,only four and two years old,looked exactly like their father:true men of the north but with their mother eyes and kind smile.

Just like their father they were scared of storms,it took her hours to put them to bed that night since the first drop of rain had hit the ground.They both reminded her the first time that she had spent with Cregan during one of those,curling up on her as she read them one of her books to help them sleep.

But that night was different,after two weeks of writing letters and longing,Cregan was finally home.As she quietly opened the door,the candle that Y/n was holding in her hand almost fell,when she saw her husband sitting on a chair in between the two beds where their sons seemed to sleep so soundly and well.

He was still wearing his dark fire coat and his long were wet,the tip of his nose red from the cold,while in his hands he was holding a old fairy tale book that they both knew very well.As if he had heard her behind the door,he smiled,and his face was like the sun.

He had came back as soon as he had heard the first sounds of the thunders,like a sailor bewitched by the melody of a siren voice.His sons were the first ones to greet him,running barefoot down the hallways to reach comfort in their father strong arms.

Cregan had been there before,his heart clenched in his chest as he dried the tears off their eyes and saw the fear on their little faces.But he knew what he had to do,unlike his father,he would always be there for help his children no matter what.

«The mermaid had waited all winter for her lover return,her voice guided him through the storm.»his voice was quiet and soft like a warm blanket«With the first lights of the new sun,he came back to her.»in his hands the hold book.

His oldest son yawned«But wasn’t he afraid of the storm?»Rickon asked,holding his teddy bear closer to his chest.

«He was.»Cregan nodded«But you know what is stronger than fear?»he whispered,noticing his younger son fast asleep.

Rickon shook his head,his eyes fighting to urge to close«What?»he chirped.

«Love.»his father simply answered«The idea of coming back to his lover was stronger than the fear of the storm.»Cregan stood up,caressing his son head.

«One day i want to love someone this much.Just like you love mama.»Rickon murmured sleepy,with a little smile on his face.

«And you will.»he promised«One day you will have someone that will help you overcome your fears and that will always call you back home when you are wondering too far.»he kissed both of his sons forehead.

Cregan was still a little nervous about storms,but that night he was finally back home as sun on water.Y/n reached for him and skimmed her hands over the light of him.

«I missed you.»she whispered on his lips,kissing him sweetly.

Cregan was holding her in his arms,gently caressing her hair,his forehead on hers«I saw the storm and i knew.»he smiled,trailing his lips on her chin and cheeks.

Y/n shivered,not only because his icy fingers were rubbing up and down her back,but because only her could understand the meaning of those words.The intimacy of having something only them could share with each other.

«So you came back early because of the storm?»she giggled as his beard tickled her beautiful face.

He smiled even more,tightening his grip on her smaller body«I came back because of you.Only you could have called me back home.»he whispered placing a kiss on her lips.

The smell of her hair,the taste of her mouth,the feeling of her skin seemed to have gotten inside of him or in the air all around him.She had become a physical necessity,not only to ease his fear,but to have someone to come back to.

She placed her head on his chest,listening to his heartbeat beating alongside hers.They stood there for a moment more,embracing each other,in the dark corridor.

«Do you hear it?»Y/n softly asked suddenly.

«Hear what?»Cregan voice was low.

«The sound of the rain.»she explained,closing her eyes and relaxing against his touch.

For a while they just listened to the incessant ticking of the rain,while a thousand fish continued to swim on the pages of their book.

But suddenly a flash illuminated the corridor,followed by the due thunder.

Y/n jolted,expecting her husband to do the same.

Yet this was not the case«Aren't you afraid of thunderstorms anymore?»she teased him.

«How can I be afraid of thunderstorms when I'm by your side?»he said,caressing her cheek lovingly.

«Tomorrow there will be the sun.»she smiled against him,brighter than any light.

She was right,after the storm there was always the warm weather and Y/n was the golden sun at the horizon.That one thing that gave him hope for a brighter future,the only one that could bring him back home.Because his sleepless nights are better with her than any nights could ever be alone.

362 notes · View notes

sunkendreams · 4 months

Note

uhh asking for a request of bo and just anything that involves with duct tape 😭😭 gagging or bounding im happy either way

Also love ur work! 🩷💖

souvenir.

➾ pairing ; bo sinclair x fem!reader.

in which bo decides that he’ll take you as his souvenir — a pretty hiker lost in ambrose.

format: one-shot — requested.

word count: 5.3K.

warnings: SMUT (mdni), DUBCON, drugging, kidnapping, bondage (tape and chains), restraints, cunnilingus, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, groping, knifeplay, rough sex, p in v sex, different positions, spitting, choking, bruising, hair-pulling, scratching, marking, use of pet names (good girl, sweetheart, etc.), dom/sub dynamics, begging, dirty talk, edging, creampie, unprotected sex, bo is definitely not nice in this fic

author’s note: this is definitely more of a darker fic, but I actually loved writing it ,,, nothing like gross and horny sex with bo sinclair to get the blood flowing! I hope you all enjoy! Still working on requests, I’m hoping to post a few things this week since I’ve been so busy!

Warm, glittering rays of a vibrant Louisiana sun cut through the thick canopy of trees and marshland, bathing your face in a haze of heat. It was midday — hot and sticky, accompanied by a stifling humidity that was prevalent in the South, not terribly far from a saltwater coastline.

Beneath you was the grass — clutches of wildflowers blossomed amongst strands of emerald, a temporary refuge for you to rest as you savored the outdoors. A town sat in the near-distance, baking away underneath the sun, as evidenced by the paint wearing thin and the asphalt looking gray instead of black.

You’d been hiking by yourself — that was your first mistake. Too brazen and bold enough to be without the company of your friends, and now, subject to the ire of Ambrose’s hidden devils.

It was akin to ringing the dinner bell when Lester had caught wind of your presence through the scope of a well-used Barrett. Once he’d informed Bo over a very colorful phone call, your fate was sealed, doomed to become another pretty fixture in the House of Wax.

There was no getting out of Ambrose — you just didn’t know it yet.

As the glaring sun began to slip behind the verdant canopy above you, you took it as a sign to relocate, trekking the short distance toward the quaint town. You could hear the general buzz and chatter of townsfolk, but there wasn’t a soul in-sight — the ones that were, confined to their eternal tombs.

“Nobody’s home.” You murmured, thumbing the thick straps of your backpack as you sauntered down the middle of the road, glancing at some of the vehicles lining the road. Some appeared brand-new, others showing signs of weathering.

You passed the gas station and row of various houses, making your way toward the church. The distant hum of an organ guided your path, leading you to the steps and to the devil himself.

Bo Sinclair stood in front of a set of white doors, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, a bead of sweat glistening upon his brow. He wore his Sunday best to look the part, gaze flickering toward your pretty, doe-eyed countenance when you’d stopped a few feet away.

A cloud of billowing smoke drifted into the air, a thin gray wisp that dissipated into the staggering heat. He appraised you in an unusual silence, drinking you in, shamelessly admiring the way your jeans clung to your body. Bo’s own fascination was nearly palpable — he still wondered what possessed a girl to go hiking alone.

Maybe you were stupid — he didn’t think so.

“Sermon getting to you?” You hadn’t intended to come off as simpering or awkward, gesturing toward the cigarette in the stranger’s mouth. A chattering ambiance and piano music emanated from inside of the church, and you felt severely underdressed in the presence of this man — the only one you’d seen in the town so far.

A huff escaped him as he ashed his cigarette, granules of charcoal floating towards the steps. “Might need another cigarette if that’s the case,” Bo chortled, taking another long drag. He ogled you again, jaw tensing as he sized you up, unbeknownst to you. “You lost?”

You would do perfectly — prettiest thing he’d seen in ages, that much was for certain.

Bo’s mind worked differently than yours, sinister and callous when compared to your innocuous demeanor. Whilst you stood along the picket-fence, contemplating about finding a good drink of water, Bo was picturing you strapped down to his bed, clothes cut away.

“A little bit,” It was painful for you to confess to being lost, considering how many times you’d traversed the backwoods of Louisiana. The sound of your voice was enough to momentarily sever Bo’s salacious train of thought, watching as you picked at the fading paint along the fence. “Do you know if there’s a convenience store around here or anything?”

He shook his head, motioning down the street. “Closed for th’day, I’m afraid. Lookin’ for somethin’ in particular?” Bo asked, attempting to lay the foundation for you, building a rapport that was surely to break once he got his hands on you. It was all about the building.

You shrugged, withering away beneath the oppressive heat of the midday sun. You wondered how this man was so unusually comfortable within an all-black suit and tie. Nonetheless, you decided to be truthful. “I’m just looking for a quick drink before I hike back to the main road. I’m a little low on water.”

“If you’re willin’ to make the trek, I can take you up to my place. Won’t take long, ten minutes or so.” Bo offered, attempting to sweeten the deal. It was akin to a predator skillfully drawing their prey inward, making it difficult to resist. He took another lengthy drag of his cigarette before smashing it against the concrete with the toe of his boot.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother,” Admittedly, you felt intrusive — a meddlesome presence amidst a quiet, peaceful town. You felt even worse interrupting a church service, but Bo didn’t seem phased whatsoever. “I don’t want to distract you from church, either.”

Bo scoffed, lips twitching into something sardonic, one hand perched atop his hip. “Don’t think th’good Lord really cares a whole lot for me these days,” He mused, and you couldn’t tell if he was being serious. “Let me take you up there.” He motioned for you to follow him.

Leaving the white chapel behind, you walked alongside him, somewhat smitten by his Southern drawl and charismatic charm. Beads of sweat glistened along his brow, and he promptly loosened his tie as the two of you made it toward a stretch of beaten-up road.

“Name’s Bo, by th’way. Forgot my manners.” Bo mused, making sure to really lay on the flirtation and appeal. It wasn’t hard for him to tell how flustered you were already — and he fully intended on manipulating such a fact.

“Nice to meet you, Bo.” You smiled, cordial and polite as you sauntered alongside him. “How long have you lived here in Ambrose? It seems so far from the rest of civilization.” It was out of reach, away from the rest of the world, a world that was impervious to the sinister deeds of the Sinclairs.

Unfortunately, you were now in their territory, subject to their rules and ire.

Bo chuckled, shamelessly stealing glances at you whenever possible. You were gorgeous — a looker with a sweet demeanor. He wanted to lick that sweetness right off of you, drain it all, keep it for himself. “Lived here for most of my life. Town’s real quiet, jus’ known for the House of Wax.”

Intrigue glistened upon your features, and you recalled the sign that you’d spotted during your hike — Trudy’s infamous House of Wax. The building itself sat in the distance, nestled amongst a cluster of hills. Even that seemed relatively dormant.

“It’s nice here, really peaceful. You must get used to the silence.” You replied, stepping up the incline as Bo gently steadied you with one arm. You murmured a soft ‘thank you’ as a house came into view, rustic yet large. This must’ve been Bo’s home. “Is this it?”

He motioned toward the house, wrapping his tie around his hand as he loosened up his collar. “Yeah, this is it. We’ll go on inside, you can sit an’ I’ll get you fixed up with somethin’ for the road.” Bo chimed, making his way to the front door.

Bo let you inside, gesturing toward the couch and recliner that sat in the living room. It was a very well lived-in home, but you didn’t seem to mind. You moved toward the couch, finally able to sit somewhere comfortable and relax, placing your backpack beside you.

“Thank you for doing this, Bo. I appreciate it.” You piped up, watching as he moved toward the kitchen. The interior of the home felt warm and inviting, littered with plenty of things to look at. There was ample opportunity for Bo to take matters into his own hands.

One of the cupboards in the kitchen had what he needed, a syringe filled with some strange concoction, a thicker liquid. His dark gaze darted toward you, distracted by your surroundings. Bo took the syringe, discreetly keeping it by his side as he stepped behind you, offering you a water bottle.

“‘Course. Heat’s pretty bad in these parts.” He replied, and you immediately unscrewed the lid, greedily drinking several gulps of icy water. Bo was close, hovering above you with a manic look in his eyes.

Before you had time to properly react, his hand closed around the underside of your jaw, squeezing tight to hold you steady. The intrusive, cold prick of a needle digging into your neck made you scream, but Bo had you in a rather uncomfortable chokehold.

“Shh, shh,” He soothed, stroking at your hair. Everything felt numb, and you could no longer feel anything in your arms and legs, reduced to simple tingling sensations. Your cries were in vain, throaty and hoarse as you sank into the couch, limp and lifeless. “Jus’ relax. All that strugglin’ is gonna make it worse.”

Your eyes felt heavy, beginning to close with a weight to them — the last thing you remembered was the glimpse of Bo’s insidious smirk and dark hues before you’d been rendered unconscious.

———————————————————————————

The scratch of duct-tape reverberated around the concrete cellar, obnoxiously close to your ear, causing you to involuntarily wince. The haze of unconsciousness was lifting, but that sound — it made you groan, unpleasant and invasive. You attempted to move as the heaviness wore away in your limbs, but you had no such luck.

You were in the underbelly of some cold, dingy cellar, cement walls lined in grainy polaroids, tools, and obscene amounts of sex toys. An icy, uncomfortable sensation began to pool within the pit of your stomach, and you tried to jerk against the tape around your wrists.

A strange, unsettling chill fluttered about your body, causing you to shudder. Your hiking boots were nowhere to be found, flannel stolen too, leaving you in your shorts and tank top. Something felt intrusive, as if there was an outside presence bearing down on you, crawling beneath your flesh.

Bo was standing at the foot of a strange chair, stained with months-old cruor, dressed differently than before. A pair of mechanic’s coveralls were stained with grease and oil, dark enough to conceal bloodstains. He bit at the strip of duct-tape, clutching it between his teeth as he bound you, keeping you restrained.

“W—Wait,” You babbled, and suddenly, the heightened sensation of fear and startlement blistered through you, visceral and volatile. “Please don’t do this.” Your whimpers fell on deaf ears as Bo continued his mission, sweat layered in a thin sheen along his temples.

Death in a town that wasn’t on the map was a fate worse than any other — you would rot into the ground with no one to find you, only the animals and trees would know; bear witness. You would cease to exist and become a memory, a painful one, eternally trapped within Ambrose.

“You can make this real easy on yourself,” Bo’s husky, dark drawl emerged from the bitter chill of the cellar, roughened hands sliding along your legs. “All you gotta do is behave for me, yeah?” He stood above you, a twisted version of the man you’d met at the church — or perhaps, the real him.

You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling vulnerable and exposed in your current position. Your hands were bound on either side of you with many rings of duct-tape, legs chained to the floor, yet there was some room for you to walk — if that were even possible. You shivered, mostly from the oppressive cold of the basement coupled with fear.

“Please,” Your chest felt tight, fear unfurling from your ribcage as it spread across your body. A shudder rolled down your spine when Bo grabbed your chin, thumb stroking along your lower lip. “Please don’t kill me.”

Something about this place told you that he’d killed before — they’d been in the very same spot that you were now. A sinister, lascivious gleam glimmered within his dark eyes as they raked over your body, lips curling into a smirk.

“Didn’t say anything about killin’ you, beautiful.” Bo corrected, digits beginning to squeeze your chin, putting pressure on your jaw. “But I might change my mind if y’make this hard for me.” His other hand moved toward your shorts, unbuttoning the front as he ripped the zipper down in one swift movement.

You began to squirm, mortified and flustered as you fought against the tape wrapped around your wrists — but it wasn’t any use. “Don’t.” Your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper as he gave you a pointed look.

Bo scoffed, head cocking to one side. “Be a shame if I gotta shut that pretty mouth of yours, too.” It wasn’t a warning, but a threat, a promise — one that he intended to make good on if you weren’t careful. “Gonna open up for me?” He crooned.

There was something hideous about him touching you — and even more so was the disgusting fact that you wanted to let him do it. He was handsome at the church, all a facade of Southern charm and debonair wit, but this was something else entirely.

With a defeated, pitiful expression, you began to part your legs, and that was akin to victory for Bo. His dark chuckle made you shiver, feeling his hand brusquely tug and wrestle with your shorts, inching them down your legs. “You’re real pretty,” He uttered, looking you in the eyes. “Prettiest thing I’ve seen in ages.”

Heat pooled within the pit of your stomach, and you clenched your hands into fists, nearly whimpering when he ghosted his fingers across your clothed cunt. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction — this was wrong, depraved on so many levels, but you found yourself submitting instead of retaliating.

A strangled whimper escaped you as he rounded the chair, standing right in front of you as he planted a kiss against your forehead. “Bet you’re all wet from this, huh?” He husked, voice kept to a low growl as he slipped his fingers into your panties.

Arousal had collected there, slick and warm upon his digits. Part of you wanted to melt into the chair and disappear, muscles tense and taut as you worked to suppress your whining.

“Fuck, look at that,” Bo sneered, greedily sucking your nectar right from his fingers, causing your breath to hitch within your throat. “Guess I was right.” His hand returned to your aching cunt, the other wrangling your panties aside, movements harsh and rough.

You hated that it felt good, offered you a sliver of relief — you wanted to scratch at your restraints, thighs beginning to quiver. A string of incoherent babbling escaped you, mumbled pleas for him to stop. It was quite the juxtaposition to your hips, which happened to lurch forward into his hand.

Bo bullied his way in between your legs, spreading you apart as he lowered himself to his knees — unexpected, but you still felt embarrassed. “Gonna have to have a taste of this pretty cunt,” With a gravelly hum, he grabbed your thighs, unceremoniously spitting a wad of saliva onto your throbbing cunt. “Don’t move.”

“Bo,” It was almost involuntary, moaning his name as you jolted forward, mouth agape. Bo’s grin felt like a hot brand against your inner thigh as he clamped his hands down into your legs, hard enough to cause bruises. “P—Please.” You sputtered.

Part of you felt terribly embarrassed for enjoying yourself at the hands of this man who’d kidnapped you, your innocence being taken advantage of. His calloused, rough hands spread you apart, broad tongue licking a stripe along the length of your slit.

Bo was eating you out like a man starved, breath hot and heavy as he savored you with his lips, tongue swirling across your cunt. His hands groped into your haunches, against the swell of your pliant flesh, practically forcing your hips to tilt into his face as he buried his head between your legs.

With a wanton moan, you slouched back into the rigid frame of the chair, listening to it creak and groan as you writhed around. The manacles that shackled you to the concrete rustled with your movements, fingers curling into your palms. His tongue was deliberate and slow, teasing you with every stroke.

You tried to smother your noises, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, but he was ten steps ahead of you. “Can’t hear you, sweetheart,” Bo stopped, ceasing any further contact until you submitted to him. “Gonna have to beg for it, I s’pose.” His sigh was theatrical and badgering, forcing you to whimper.

A simpering, choked-up noise escaped from the back of your throat, desperation beginning to mount as you jerked and jolted forward. Bo simply sat still, attempting to smother that smarmy, devilish grin of his as you shook your head back and forth. “Please keep going, please!” You cried.

Bo clicked his tongue, seemingly unimpressed and dismissive, reaching for the knife that sat in his back pocket. “Ain’t ever met a girl this ungrateful. You rather I stop an’ get this all over with?” His voice was vitriolic, full of a manipulative venom that only served to drag you deeper into his pit.

The sharp, icy blade suddenly traced over your legs, goosebumps erupting in its wake as you shook your head. You didn’t want Bo to hurt you — the idea of being harmed, of being so helpless — it frightened you. Bo enjoyed seeing that little pang of fear within your doe eyes as he prodded the tip of razor-sharp silver into your flesh.

“I’m sorry,” You gasped, stumbling over your words and babbling, restless within the chair. “Bo, please! I — I’ll be loud, I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t hurt me.” It was a gushing string of pleas and begging that didn’t go unnoticed this time.

With soft shushing, Bo sighed, kissing along your inner thigh as he dug his nails into your flesh. It was rough enough to make you feel the burning sting of pain, chest heaving with labored breaths as he nudged his lips against your cunt again. “I think I’m gonna keep you for m’self, how’s that sound?” He uttered.

“Good, good,” You nodded. “I — I want you, please keep going.” Whatever bite and edge you had before had diminished completely, shadowed by his dark, domineering nature. It was hard for anything to break through that barrier of his. He retracted the knife, then and there.

A cajoling chuckle escaped him, one filled with mockery and a duplicitous edge as he lapped at your cunt once more. His tongue was like hot coals, raking across your slit with a wanton need, fingers grabbing and groping at the meat of your thighs.

His cock twitched within his jeans, desperate to be inside of you, make you scream. You wanted to grab at his tousled tresses or grip onto his shoulders, but the duct-tape prevented you from going anywhere, digging into your wrists.

Bo savored you as if you were some delectable meal, licking his lips before toying with your clit. His mouth was feather-light and teasing that bundle of nerves, enough to make you contort within the chair. A strangled moan left you, noisy and desperate, wrought with desire.

“Please, Bo, please,” You breathed, and when your thighs threatened to squeeze his face, he roughly pushed you apart, gazing at you from between your legs. The duct-tape chafed at your flesh, uncomfortably tight around your wrists as you writhed, hips bucking forward. “Please!” You were nearly sobbing.

All inhibitions had been abandoned — you were his now, reduced to his pretty plaything, all spread out on a silver platter. Molten heat surged through you when he lapped at your cunt, hand slipping down as he teased your entrance, giving you no warning as two digits sank into you.

A blissful whine left you, head rolling back against the chair as he nudged your clit, just enough to keep you chasing after that sensation. Bo was undeniably cruel, grazing his teeth over the sensitive bud, causing you to squirm and shiver, all sound escaping you.

“Sing pretty for me,” Bo’s husky, Southern purr emerged from between your thighs, teeth nicking your thigh before he finally began to suck on your clit. His thick digits pistoned in and out of your weeping cunt, providing you with an overwhelming barrage of pleasure. “That’s it.” He huffed, lurching forward.

The rattling of chains couldn’t rip you from the moment as liquid heat coalesced between your legs, with Bo’s chin steeped in your arousal. You moaned again, flexing against your restraints, stomach churning with an anticipation that made you want to melt.

Bo grunted, greedily lapping at your sweet cunt, fingers beginning to curl into that sweet spot, prompting you to choke on any sound that bubbled within your throat. He was like a predator, with you in his clutches, a rabbit trapped within the jaws of a wolf.

With another barrage of practiced licks, he continued his onslaught against your clit, eliciting a myriad of sinful, inhuman sounds from you. Bo — it was the only word that fell from your lips like some chant, and he didn’t stop, feeling your knees buckle and shake around him.

His digits buried themselves into your tight cunt, sluggishly rocking in and out as he sucked on your clit. It sent you careening over the edge, lost to a white-hot explosion of ecstasy as you came, moaning and shivering, a complete and utter mess.

He was the devil — pearlescent teeth glinting in the low, buzzing light of the cellar. The shadows moved in a way that made him seem sinister. You were surprised that he didn’t have horns and a forked tongue, but it was likely a trick of the eyes. You huffed, fading away into your post-orgasm haze, but Bo was far from finished.

“We ain’t done just yet,” He uttered, licking his lips as he moved up from between your legs, hand gripping your chin as he dragged you forward. Bo made you open your mouth, head tilted backward as he leaned in, countenance contorting into a sneer. “Got a little gift for you, for bein’ good.”

A wad of his saliva landed upon your tongue, and you nearly choked, feeling filthy and vulnerable. His eyes glistened with an insidious shade, shadowed and bemused as he closed your mouth, forcing you to swallow his spit.

Bo was expectant, waiting for you to say something — but when nothing emerged, he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Where’s your manners?” He reminded you, patting your jaw like he would a beloved dog.

“Thank you.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, somewhat shrewd as Bo grinned, seemingly satisfied with your answer. You squirmed again when Bo began to unzip the front of his pants, breathing noticeably heavier and wrought with unrestrained excitement.

“Now,” Bo hummed, fishing his cock from the confines of his jeans. His erection was thick and heavy within his calloused palm, oozing with pearls of precum. With a step in your direction, he pressed the head of his cock against your cunt. “M’gonna fuck you right.”

You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, letting out another moan as he teased your entrance, hooking his hands around your hips. Bo was rough and callous, dragging you forward as he sank his cock into you, grunting at the tightness and warmth.

Another wanton moan escaped you, back beginning to arch as he thrust forward, chest rippling with grunts and subtle growls. Lewd, crass noises reverberated throughout the cellar, the only ambiance that you could really focus on. His shadow eclipsed the stark glare of the light, gaze fixated on you.

Bo’s eyes were shadowed, brewing with something dark yet indecipherable. He began to adopt a very brutal pace, cock pounding away at your poor cunt. You hadn’t done this in so long, to the point where it felt borderline unfamiliar. You sputtered and moaned, feeling one of his hands abandon your leg.

That rough, calloused hand of his found its way to your slender neck, digits squeezing at your throat. It wasn’t particularly gentle, but not enough to completely rob you of air. You whined, unable to keep from watching the way his cock disappeared again and again into your sweet, oozing cunt.

You wanted to grab onto him, onto his arm, chest, anything — instead, you were met with harsh resistance from the duct-tape. “Bo,” You moaned, hips rolling in-tandem with his movements. Bo hunched closer, hand tight around your throat as his thumb pressed into your jugular, causing you to wince. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Bo’s voice dropped to a lower octave, cock rutting away into you with a rough, unyielding amount of force. If he went any harder, he might’ve threatened to split you in half. “Fuck, you’re nice n’tight. Can’t believe you’re gettin’ off to this. You like bein’ tied down an’ fucked by a stranger?” He uttered, and you began to stammer.

A wave of liquid heat burned bright within the pit of your stomach, a flame that only grew in intensity as he kept up with his brutal ministrations. Your cunt clenched pathetically around his cock at his words, causing you to shiver again. “I—I …” You didn’t know what to say, embarrassed and ashamed.

Bo scoffed, voice tapering off into a grunt as he continued to rut forward, cock buried inside of you until he could go no further. “Got you so fucked you can’t even speak,” He sneered, grip tightening on your throat. It was bound to leave some sort of mark, but you knew he didn’t care. “You gonna behave?”

Your head bobbed up and down several times over, voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.” You squeaked, watching with blown-out pupils as he reached for the knife, cutting you loose from the duct-tape. Though, once your hands were free, you were being dragged onto the cold concrete on your stomach.

The steely, sharp bite of the knife sliced through your tank top like butter, leaving you completely exposed to Bo, who remained entirely clothed. Goosebumps coalesced along your spine from the icy temperature of the ground, feeling his hand close into your hair as he fucked you from behind.

His cock battered away at your cunt, stretching you in ways that you never thought possible. It was harsh and intrusive, digits tugging on your hair, wrangling you like you were molded from obsidian. Bo savored the sensation of you rocking back into him, thighs quivering like a leaf.

Your eyes flickered toward the muted brick wall on your left, met with a garish display of polaroids — other girls, girls like you. You had a feeling that none of them had lived to tell the tale.

A pang of dread consumed you, followed by fear — you hoped that you wouldn’t end up on that wall too, immortalized in some sick photograph. Instead, you wanted to increase your chances of survival, moaning and whimpering his name, forehead snug against the concrete.

“You wanna cum?” Bo asked nonchalantly, spoken through labored breathing as his thrusts became quick and sporadic. He was close, cock throbbing inside of you as his other hand clawed bruises and marks into the swell of your hips.

“Yes,” You didn’t hesitate, moaning again when he dug his nails into your flesh, causing you to squirm from discomfort. “Please, Bo! I want you to let me cum!” Desperation was laced within your voice, high-pitched and simpering as he let go of your hip.

“Good girl,” Bo grunted, somewhat perplexed by you. “Finally usin’ your manners.” He reached between your thighs, slathered in your slick and his precum, thumb rubbing circles into your clit. Your back began to arch, pushing back into him as he fucked you like a wild animal, chains clanking against the floor.

Pleasure rippled through you in blistering waves, coupled with the faint sting of pain that radiated from your hip. Bo grunted, breath hot and strenuous as he fucked you senseless, pounding away at your cunt with little regard for your comfort. His thumb toyed with your clit, causing you to writhe and moan.

With another harsh rut of his hips, Bo grunted, pushing his hips forward as he came inside of you, ropes of white-hot seed flooding your cunt. His brow glistened with perspiration as he pulled his cock free, leaving you with the mess of it all, haphazardly smeared between your legs.

Bo, in all his cruelty, tore his hand away from your clit, leaving you a throbbing mess, edged to the brink. You wanted to beg for him to continue, but you were spent, hot flesh soothed by the cold temperature of the floor.

“W—Wait,” Your protests were weak, but still strung-out with desperation. “Aren’t you going to keep going?” There was a little sliver of hope within your voice, but he relented, lips curling into a bemused smirk as he gave your ass a light smack.

“Changed my mind.”

You hated him.

For a moment, you saw red, frustrated without any semblance of relief, but also in misery over your current situation. You didn’t know what to do or say — and the last thing you wanted was for him to become angry with you. You didn’t want to become a permanent fixture on his wall of past trophies.

He stood up, hovering above you as you sheepishly rolled onto your back. Bo’s unsteady, dangerous leer sent shivers down your spine, watching as he stared at you for several moments. “Guessin’ you’ll last longer than the rest have,” He crooned, swiping his tongue across his lower lip. “Go on.”

His head jerked toward the chair, signaling you to climb back in. Your legs quivered in the aftermath of being fucked stupid, and you awkwardly reached for your panties and shorts, but Bo intercepted you. Wordlessly, you sat down in the leather seat, naked and entirely vulnerable.

“Keep you like that for when I come back.” Bo’s Southern purr made you shudder as you trembled, both from fear and from the cold. He couldn’t help but take a little bit of pity on you, tossing you a blanket from the old mattress that sat several feet away from you.

Something about being left entirely alone, naked and used in this basement, made you more terrified than anything else. You didn’t want to be left alone with just your thoughts. Even if Bo had kidnapped you, he was more tolerable than solitude. “You’ll come back?” You asked.

Bo huffed, retrieving his baseball cap. “Maybe,” He could see the hint of fear that had glossed over your eyes. “Maybe I’ll leave you down here an’ let you rot.” His voice was somewhat vitriolic, but undecided — part of you knew that he couldn’t leave you alone after this.

You would take the physicality over being isolated.

Silence drifted between the both of you as your legs shifted, the sound of clanking manacles providing the only bit of ambiance. Bo made for the iron-wrought door, standing in the doorway to give you one last look. Even in your disheveled state, you were beautiful — and now?

You belonged to him.

Before Bo shut the door, his lips twitched into the ghost of a devilish smirk. “Guess I’ll see you soon.”

#slasher x reader #slasher x you #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x you #house of wax #house of wax smut #bo sinclair #bo sinclair fanfic #slasher fanfiction #slasher fanfic #slasher fandom #slasher x y/n #house of wax fanfic #house of wax 2005

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fangirleaconmigo · 3 months

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Lambert and the Tribute

Ok. Hear me out. You know how there is the porny/smutty trope of the witcher who saves a family/town from a dangerous beast? And the towns folk are like, well, we don't have (or want to spend) money, so, here is our young sexy innocent but eager son/daughter as a tribute? *cue porn music*

So as usual last night, I was thinking about blorbos and shit instead of sleeping, and was like...how about we turn that trope around a bit? (not that there is anything wrong with it, I just like fiddling with tropes)

I present to you my concept, and I'm using Lambert for this because as I thought of it, I could hear his voice in my head.

...

So, Lambert comes back from the hunt, exhausted, out of breath, bruised, cut up, but triumphant.

He stands in front of the penniless farmer with the gnarly severed head of a beast. He has saved all of their lives. Because of him, life continues.

But the poor farmer is clearly distraught. He is a young man, early twenties, and is like...thank you so much Mr Witcher sir, we are mighty obliged. But sadly, tragically, we have no money. The harvest was lost, and we are hungry as it is.

The poor farmer tries to explain. Sir, I would gladly offer you my sexy and eager but wide eyed and innocent daughter as tribute, but tragically, my kids are too young to be sexy tributes. Mr. Witcher, they simply aren't reproductive age yet.

And the farmer is standing there, just anxious as hell about what the witcher will demand instead, like, will it be his young bride? His beautiful raven haired wife? They're basically newlyweds still and so very much in love. He can't abide the thought! He's racking his brain, is there anyone young and nubile and teen of aged in the next town???

And then he realizes fuck, WORST OF ALL, I hope this fucker doesn't want the law of surprise because that never ends well. Inside, this man is screaming, please do not take my kids in any capacity.

But isn't that what witchers ALWAYS want??? Children to make into MUTANTS????

So this poor (in every sense of the word) guy is stammering and angsting, but Lambert isn't paying any attention to him. He literally has not said a single word to him. He's not even looking at him. He's leaning a little to the right and looking past this guy, over his shoulder.

The farmer starts to get annoyed. Mr. Witcher, he thinks, I'm struggling here, help me out a little.

Lambert drops the nasty monster head with a thunk and turns back to the guy. Lamb is not particularly put out. He knew this family was poor. But still. This doesn't have to be for nothing.

He wipes the bloody sweat off his forehead with his arm and nods behind the man.

"What about him? He game?"

The farmer looks like his brain has just blanked out. He stares in silence. He slowly turns and looks behind him. Then he turns back to Lambert, waiting for him to laugh or to clarify. Lambert just stares at him expectantly.

"Well?" Lambert asks.

The penniless farmer is like.. "You---you want...m-...m-"

The young farmer doesn't wanna say it because that can't be right and he doesn't wanna embarrass himself. But Lambert is not helping him out at all. He's just looking at him like he's an utter dumbass, just waiting for him to get his shit together. "Spit it out, man."

Farmer tries again. "Mr. Witcher, sir. Are you saying that you want...my... FATHER?"

Lambert looks back at the object of his fascination. An older man is working, hauling bales of hay, loading them up in a wagon. And this man is like, mid-fifties, barrel chest covered with gray hair, full beard, inhospitable expression, overalls, dusty boots. He's thick, muscled and hard, he's covered in sweat, he's got calluses, he looks exactly like a man that's been busting his ass in the fields for more than a few decades.

As Lambert stares at the father, his expression starts to look a little hungry. "Is that your pops?"

"Uhhh yes?' The farmer's voice kind of screeches into a higher register.

Lambert shrugs. "Ok, well yea, your pops then. Ask 'im if he's game. Go ahead. I ain't got all day."

The young farmer just swivels, his eyes still in disbelief, still thinking he's going to humiliate himself. He wants the ground to open up and swallow him. He is starting to think maybe his youngest kid would make a good witcher after all. But Lambert is waiting and doesn't look perturbed. He doesn't look like he's kidding.

"Uh, dad?" The farmer is well, well into adulthood but his voice still cracks. But his dad hears.

The big older guy drops his bale and turns around. His eyes are sharp and hard. "Yep?"

The young farmer swallows. "Yes, um, father, the witcher here saved us."

"Obliged." The older man's voice is low, gravely, and he sounds like a man who does not suffer fools.

Lambert nods, an eager twinkle starting to gleam in his eyes. "Glad to help. It's what I do."

The young farmer continues, "And well, you know, we don't have any money to pay him. What with the bad harvest and all."

The dad nods, waiting. He's quiet too, not helping the young farmer out at all. So the younger farmer soldiers ahead. "So, father, he, the witcher that is, was wondering, um, if you would, um, want to be the uh..." he takes a breath and tries to say it fast, "tribute."

The young farmer almost faints from mortification. He's waiting for his dad to laugh at his idiocy. To shout at him. To kick his ass.

But what the Dad does is slowly raise his eyebrows. Then he turns purposefully towards Lambert. He switches his weight a little to one of his hips, and just quietly begins to look Lambert up and and down, assessing him with extreme interest. He is silently just raking his eyes from the top of Lambert's head down to his toes.

Lambert's grin gets wider, like it gleams, because at this point, he knows he's in. If the man is checking whether he is his type, then well, he's good with men. And Lambert just knows he'll be this man's type. Why wouldn't he be for fuck sake?

When the older man's gaze gets to his crotch, Lambert gives his prick a cocky little squeeze and licks his lips.

The older man grunts, and if the young farmer didn't know it was an interested noise, he certainly does when his father gives Lambert a wink. "Name's Abe, young buck."

The young farmer whispers several prayers for the gods to deliver him from this moment.

"Hi Abe," says Lambert, just eager and smug sounding as shit.

Abe takes his gloves off and hands them to his son as he passes him. He only says three words. "Don't wait up."

Lambert chuckles to himself, and there is a little hop in his step as they walk off together, since he is already anticipating the cock in his ass and could not be more overjoyed. Abe slides his hand down Lambert's trousers and squeezes his ass possessively.

The younger farmer just stands there with his jaw dropped. He had no idea whatsoever that his dad has this side to him. That man silently and stoically raised a family of seven children with his dearly departed mother, rest her soul. All his father ever did was work. You think you know a person. Honestly.

Lambert and Abe are long gone, and the son is still standing there in shock, when his beautiful young bride comes out of the house with a toddler on her hip. "Where did father go?"

The young farmer always likes that about his bride, she calls his dad father. "Yes. Heeee, um, went to pay the witcher for his services."

The young bride is surprised, she didn't know that father had money after the poor harvest they'd had, what with the locusts and all that. But oh isn't that a nice surprise, she thinks. "Well how generous of him. What a kind and giving man father is."

The young farmer puts his arm around his beautiful bride and pulls her in tight. "You know what my darling," he says, "it didn't seem like he minded in the least."

---the end

(and if any of you talented writers out there wants to write the sex scene, I would pledge my eternal friendship and love to you)

#the witcher #the witcher fanfic #lambert #this is for my lambert loving homies #you know who you are #descarada writes

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web-novel-polls · 3 months

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MXTX Side Characters Tournament

[Image ID - two images. The first is a cropped image of Shang Qinghua from the cover of the English Scum Villain novel. He has brown hair tied up in a loose bun. He is wearing a light blue-gray ribbon in his hair the same color as his robes as he glances over his shoulder at the viewer.

The second image is a drawn image of Jiang Cheng from MDZS looking at the viewer with apparent disgust or contempt. He has long dark hair tied up by a silver hairpiece with bangs framing his face. His eyes are a pale blue. /End ID]

Shang Qinghua / Airplane from SVSSS

Submission: He's a sidekick and he's so sidelined that despite creating the universe he's treated as an afterthought - doubly a side character! But also? So relateable. He would absolutely have been on tumblr in his first life, he gets so excited about his blorbo who treats him terribly (until they finally get a happy ending in the extras - also! he has to wait for the extras to get his happy ending! very side-character of him). He holds the fascinating position of being mostly irrelevant to the story and yet without him the themes would totally fail. He deserves a win on something for once, okay?

Jiang Cheng from MDZS

Submission 1: Extremely traumatized yet also somehow the most normal and functional by the end. Huge bitch but I (and at least one of the other characters) think he deserves to be even worse after everything he's been through

Submission 2: Simultaneously badass and the most cringefail man. Extremely funny and stylish but still manages to be very uncool. Cries a lot. Also he's lost a lot of tumblr polls—let's give him another shot! We definitely love him more than his dad did!

Submission 3: He's got mommy issues AND daddy issues. He loves his sister and his shige so much. He's traumatised and incredibly competent. He rebuilt his whole sect! He's an asshole (affectionate). He's purple! He's got the coolest weapon ever conceived. I'm so worried about his blood pressure basically all the time.

["Anti-Propaganda" that attacks other characters is NOT allowed. Please only give reasons to vote FOR a character.]

#shang qinghua #svsss #jiang cheng #mdzs #mxtx #polls #mxtx side characters tournament #mxtx side characters grand finals #queue

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cinnbar-bun · 3 months

Text

Good Fortune

Pairing: Dio Brando x GN!Reader

Summary: Dio is told he is lucky, often. He can't see how, considering how awful his life has been. But after meeting you, the child of George Joestar's old business partner and Jonathan's friend, perhaps his luck has turned for the better.

Even if he refuses to engage with such notions.

Rating: SFW but it's painful

Word Count: ~4.5k

AO3 Link: Here

Notes: Childhood-friends-to-lovers, Phantom Blood!Dio, babes this just angst, talks of death and dying, death, religious discussion, religious imagery, Dio unfortunately falling in love, Reader is MENA! but it's easy to ignore, foreshadowing for parts 3 and 6 (no spoilers though), yes I made this to be self indulgent because I wanted to torture Dio because omg what if he went to Cairo specifically because his partner mentioned it?

Dio stares in front of the full-length mirror in his room, adjusting his suit and tie. George explained he was having an old friend over tonight for supper, making a brief comment about how said friend was also bringing his child over. Dio noticed Jonathan’s eyes widen and the smile adorning his face- obviously, they were acquainted from before he ever arrived to the mansion.

He could only sneer as he thought of how obnoxious this ‘friend’ could possibly be. He couldn’t just antagonize them or Jonathan like he normally did, not when George would be around and watching. The thought of having to sit all night with that buffoon and a friend of his made him want to gag.

Alas, one must do what they have to do to obtain wealth and power. If he wanted the Joestar fortune, he had to play the game correctly. Assuring he was in good standing with George and this guest would only serve him well in the future.

And who knows, Dio chuckles to himself, maybe this ‘friend’ of Jonathan’s would slowly grow to hate the boy as well. He brushes his blond hair back, fixing it up properly. A loose strand makes him use his hand to push it back, and he smirks as he sees the three little birthmarks on his ear. He fixes his cufflinks and proceeds to walk out of the room, annoyed at having to put on airs, yet interested to see what will become of this dinner.

The minute he steps down the stairs, there is a knock at the door. Dio curiously looks from the staircase at the large front doors that George himself approaches. The first thing Dio can make out is a large man, around the same age as George- perhaps a few years older if the few strands of gray hair are anything to go off of. Before he can take a closer look, Jonathan races down the stairs, accidentally brushing shoulders with Dio.

“You damn-,” Dio snarls, but quickly shuts his mouth in case of anyone nearby. Jonathan didn’t seem to notice, instead jumping off the last few steps and running towards the guests. Jonathan yells out a name Dio doesn’t recognize, but the energetic boy is quickly put in his place with George’s hand on his shoulder.

“Jonathan! That is not how we greet our guests!” George scolds his son. Jonathan’s shoulder slink apologetically, like a beaten down puppy.

Dio despises that look more than anything. He makes an expression of disgust before he hears some chuckling.

“Oh, it’s alright, George, let the boy be! He’s young!” A jovial voice exclaims, and George sighs.

“I’m aware, my friend. I just can’t help but worry about what kind of man he will grow up to be,” George muses, tugging on Jonathan’s ears. Dio’s ears pick up that despite the negative words, George isn’t angry at Jonathan. Jonathan himself isn’t too offended either.

Hmph. Disgusting.

Dio figures that he’s seen enough and makes his appearance in front of the guests. The man is clearly foreign and has some semitic features that Dio hardly has ever seen in Britain. He’s finely dressed, wearing a fancy English suit and plenty of gold accessories. Dio finds himself fascinated by the many rings on the man’s fingers.

“My, my, and who could this be?” The man questions, a friendly smile on his face. Dio is frankly grossed out by the overly familiar tone the man takes, but bites his tongue back.

“This is my adopted son, Dio Brando,” George proudly states. The man extends his hand to Dio and shakes it with a firm grip.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Brando,” he introduces himself then pats his child on their shoulder. “This is (Y/n), my only child. I assume you’re all the same age, so I think you’ll get along splendidly.”

Dio glances at you briefly as you bow your head politely to him. “It’s very nice to meet you, Dio.”

You look quite similar to your father, albeit, younger and more rounded, with the same features Dio finds rare on you. Your clothes are just as intricate as your father’s, clearly very expensive, making Dio curious about just how rich you and your father are.

Dio bows his head back to you. “It’s nice to meet you as well, (Y/n).”

Once the greetings are done, Jonathan goes up to you and excitedly beams at you. “(Y/n), did you bring anything for me this time?”

Dio is almost tempted to smack Jonathan on behalf of George, but you chuckle and nod, seemingly not minding. You glance over to make sure the older men are not looking and open your satchel, taking out a red box. Dio and Jonathan peek at it while you remove the cover. Inside the box are small, pink cubes covered in white sugar.

“Woah… what are these?” Jonathan asks.

“Lokum, oh, ah, ‘Turkish delights’,” you say in English. Jonathan is about to take one when you close the box and shake your head. Jonathan pouts after being denied, probably due to his love of sweets. “After dinner. Otherwise my father might lecture me.”

“Turkish delight, you say?” Dio repeats. “So, I assume you and your father must deal within the Middle East, correct?”

“Yes. He was born there, then moved here to start his business,” you pridefully comment, always happy to share how proud you are of your father’s hard work.

“Interesting…” Dio thinks. He frowns when he thinks of his own drunkard of a father, and the gross feeling that dwells within him bubbles upfront. How nice it must be to be happy for your father. How wonderful it must feel to be proud to share the same DNA as the man who had created you. He can’t point to a single thing he enjoyed about Dario, can’t even count anything nice the man has done on one hand except die.

Yet you look to hold your father in such high regard, perhaps even moreso than Jonathan does to George. Likewise, your father keeps smiling at you and flaunting your accomplishments to George, as if you were the best of the best. As if you were the most wonderful thing to have ever graced this earth.

Dio can’t help but feel disgusted and so, so jealous that you get a father who adores and spoils you like nothing else. You don’t even have a mother, but that doesn’t seem to damper you. Any hope he had of wanting to meet you is squashed by the hatred and rage he feels for your relationship.

----

You write letters often, Dio finds out. Now Dio knows why Jonathan is always so excited to check the mail. Soon after leaving the dinner party George held, Dio started getting letters addressed just to him from you.

Apparently, you were too stupid to understand that Dio wanted nothing to do with you and actively despised you like he did Jonathan. Or maybe you just didn’t care, since you began writing about anything and everything you were thinking of as if you were old acquaintances. Dio once snagged Jonathan’s letter from you to see if the tone was any different, but almost nothing was, except for mentions of a historical places Jonathan would like to possibly visit.

At first, he burned them away, not interested in whatever mindless rabble you had to discuss. He had no interest in history, none in studying, and absolutely none for whatever rich person you had just met on the road. Jonathan writes back plenty, but in order to save face, Dio writes back, only very rarely, pretending as if he actually cared.

It isn’t until his birthday that he sighs and relents, opening up the package you had sent. He rolls his eyes at the well wishes you give him (although he does wonder briefly how you knew his birthday) but finds two wrapped gifts in the box.

In the first one, thinner and longer, is a selection of the Turkish delights you had brought over the first time you met. He actually hadn’t bothered trying it then, mostly due to his disgust with you and the fact Jonathan looked like he was enjoying himself when he took a bite.

He snorts and rolls his eyes, about ready to throw away the sweets when the smell of the powdered sugar and rosewater drifts into his nose. It is… certainly unique, he thinks. Nothing like what he’s ever smelled before. He places the box on his desk again and glares at it, as if the treats were personally ruining his day. He folds his arms and stares at it some more.

He should throw this out. Never look at this and just write a quick ‘thank you’ so you felt appreciated or something. But still… the powdered sugar dusting the outside, the sweet, sweet smell of it- it was far too tempting. He clicked his tongue and picked one up, groaning at the way the sugar dusted his fingers and part of his suit.

“Disgusting,” he mumbles before he takes a large bite of it. The taste is nothing like what he’s ever had before, and he nearly chokes at it. He coughs then swallows, taken aback by the taste. It’s… it’s quite delicious. He’s never tried something so wonderfully sweet, something that overtakes the senses quite like this. Roses make an interesting flavor profile, he muses.

Wait, no, what is he thinking, getting excited over this stupid gift from an annoyance like you? He closes the box of sweets then opens the last box. Inside is a ring, similar to the one your father wore at the dinner party. The ring had a large amber stone, and Dio twirls it in his hands, fascinated with how the light catches the stone.

This must have cost a fortune. He chuckles as he picks up the note to go alongside the ring.

My father and I thought a ring would be a good gift for you. He says that it’s always wise to have something nice on your hand. It can bring you good luck and make you stand out. I hope you like the color- he was going to get you the blue one, but this one reminded me of your eyes. I thought you might appreciate it more.

Happy birthday, Dio.

You sign your name at the bottom and Dio finds himself biting his lip harshly. It’s really frustrating how you always naively try to think of him like this. Who said he wanted your damn sweets? Who said he wanted your rings? Or your good luck? Who said he wanted anything you had?

He shakes his head and gazes at the ring again. He hates himself, so why would you dare get something that is meant to be of him? This body that he despises, how could you covet it in a god damn ring meant for him?

You bother and enrage him like nothing else. He always thought this was because of your friendship with Jonathan, but this just cemented that the hate he felt for you was entirely just because of who you were. Whereas Jonathan was an obstacle he needed to rid of for the Joestar inheritance, you were someone who actively treated him like a damn charity case.

You must have thought you were so clever and kind gifting these things to him, weren’t you?

Fine. If you wanted to be a useful idiot for him, then he would make sure to get the most use out of you. The violent rage he had boiled over into interest and excitement. He grabbed his paper and pen, quickly writing a letter back to you.

This time, however, he made sure to be more expressive than he normally would have. He laughed loudly as he signed the paper in a hurry and sealed it within an envelope. This could be quite enjoyable.

Imagine him- getting rid of Jonathan and using you for his own gain! Not just one- but two means of success and fortune! Oh, you were a delightful idiot through and through, he thought as he threw aside the lid to the dessert and popped in another cube.

----

The years were kind to Dio. Ever since his plan to use you came to fruition, he slowly refined it to working his way up to being able to ask for your hand in marriage. He spent years cleaning up his act, faking his way to the top, even joining the rugby team and a university to study law. He was practically the perfect man- attractive, intelligent, resourceful, strong- why, anyone would be lucky to have him as a son-in-law and husband.

The interest he deemed to show you in his teens made you reciprocate his affections. You began writing longer letters for him than you did to Jonathan. You would stop by and visit, not even for Jonathan, but just for Dio now. You two would have long discussions in the gardens, on the road, and in the library of the Joestar mansion. Your father practically adored Dio as a son, always patting his shoulder and joking with him more casually. He was an admirable prize, one that was practically handing himself on a silver platter for you.

Except, somewhere along the line, like a damn fool, Dio made a mistake in his normally thorough plans. Somewhere, somehow- you managed to make Dio enjoy your presence. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

When he first started trying to get your attention, he often would do so at the expense of Jonathan. He just liked pissing his brother off while he would drag you away as if he had something urgent to say to you privately. He would aggrandize and embellish his stories, making himself seem far more noble and special than Jonathan was. Of course, Jonathan, ignorant as may be at times, wasn’t stupid. He knew right away Dio was up to no good and tried to warn you, subtly take you away, or even insert himself into the times when Dio pulled you aside.

Nothing worked, however. You either didn’t notice or didn’t care, always brushing aside the warnings and believing in Dio wholeheartedly. It was cute- misguided, frankly- but cute, nonetheless. Especially after Dio did his best to mend his relationship with Jonathan, Jonathan found he had no leg to stand on and tried to leave the past behind him, wishing you two only the best.

Good, thought Dio. He was tired of having to play nice with his Jonathan, and now that Jonathan had no chance of stealing you away from him, Dio could enact his plan still. And that’s what it should have stayed.

But fate was far more strange than Dio realized. One day, he would find himself listening to you more. While before, it was just to keep track of your stories to use later, it now became an interesting part of his day. Another day, he would naturally seek out your hand to hold- not as a means to make you swoon and desire him, but just for his own comfort. And on another, god, he couldn’t believe this- he found himself imagining what a ‘home’ could be like for you and him.

You somehow managed to imprint yourself in his brain, filling his head with stupid, ridiculous, and childish thoughts. He found the hushed whispers he spoke in your ear to become less and less false as time went on. He found the way your cheeks would warm up made him grin and not smirk. He found your voice pleasant and the words you’d say become clearer. He found his body recoiling when any other man, especially Jonathan, tried to talk to you.

You ruined him. You ruined everything. How dare you? He could afford plenty of things now, yet he continued to wear that damn amber ring on his finger. You adored his eyes, and for once, he found himself almost agreeing whenever he looked in the mirror before he would take you on a date.

You. Damn. Worm.

You must be the devil. You must be some evil snake charming him and destroying him inside and out. He couldn’t accept the fact that he, Dio Brando, was actually enjoying your presence in his life.

You spoke of the trips you took with your father for business. You loved almost all your destinations, bringing back souvenirs and charming photos for him. But one city always stood out to him.

Cairo.

“Oh, yes, the city is wonderful there,” you mused dreamily. “There are these beautiful pyramids-”

You point at the photos of these pyramids and he’s become interested in these monumental landmarks. Jonathan made a mention of them once, he thinks.

“And what are these pyramids for, exactly? Why would someone just build these with stone in the middle of a desert of all places?” Dio raises a brow. Although he’s impressed, he finds himself questioning the worth of these structures. You chuckle, a sound he’s grown to enjoy.

“The ancient Egyptians lived here, Dio. They built these pyramids and all sorts of buildings for their final resting place,” you smile.

“Tch, how pretentious,” he teases. “You sound far too happy talking about a place of death.”

“Perhaps, but you know, death isn’t so bad.” Now this makes him pause.

“And what do you mean by that?” Dio questions. You shrug.

“Well, for them, they believed that when you died, your heart would be judged and you could go to the Field of Reeds, Aaru.”

“Similar to western dogma,” Dio mumbles. He never had such faith in things like ‘God’ or a ‘heaven’.

If God really existed, he would have helped Dio’s mother. He would’ve made Dario a better father. Would have made Dio feel safe.

But there is no such thing, no such tangible way to prove that God did exist. And it seems these ancient humans were just as foolish as the people of today. They would continue to believe in something that did not exist and did not love them.

“Yes, you could say that,” you nod. “But I think the idea is nice overall. Don’t you think?” “I don’t understand what could be considered ‘nice’ about it,” he frowns.

“I like to think of it as a second chance. Another way to live, having gone through the struggles of your first life. You’d know more and appreciate more.”

You don’t notice the way his face tenses as he grits his teeth. Even if there was a god, in no way shape or form was Dio ever going to be in ‘heaven’. He could push that aside right away. He was the son of Dario, and that certainly already meant he was sentenced to eternal damnation.

“I see,” is all he says. You snap your fingers as you then show a picture of a gorgeous terracotta mansion.

“I almost forgot to show you! We got to stay in this beautiful place. Oh, it was just wonderful inside. I think you’d love it. There was a lovely garden there, too. I wish I could take you there, I’d show you everything Cairo has to offer! And you could finally taste the dates when they’re ripe and the festivals that go on there!”

“I would love nothing more,” he replies, suddenly thinking of how hot Cairo must feel. He wondered how you would smile if the festivals were going on. How lovely the night must be with you in it under the lamps and palm trees of Egypt. “Maybe we can go for our honeymoon?” You lightly smack his shoulders and laugh. “Don’t tease me like that! Otherwise I might make you propose tomorrow!”

“I could have that arranged,” Dio leans forward, resting his chin on his hand.

“Let’s focus on our studies first,” you chuckle. “I really would love to marry, but alas, our fathers have decided to make us wait longer.”

“Alas,” he joins in, the thought of finally being yours and you being his making his heart swell.

Only you could offer Dio this momentary salvation. This brief respite of peace despite the anger and hatred he held in his heart. This was a feeling only reserved for you, the you who practically forced your presence and love onto him.

It almost didn’t even feel like a part of his plan to gain the two fortunes, even though he would force himself to remember this was just business. Ah, but you made it so easy to enjoy life. You made him forget for a moment he was not the son of Dario Brando. You could made him forget he was a maniacal bastard orphan, instead making him feel he was Dio. A new Dio, a Dio no one could have thought ever existed, even him. A Dio that was just a man, for once.

He would become Dio, the man who would pick you fresh roses. Dio, the man who carried you over puddles on the street. Dio, who enjoyed drinking tea with you. Dio, who loved when you slipped into your mother tongue. Dio, who held you when you cried. Dio, the man who would get curious whenever you would remark joyfully about his birth marks, saying he must have been lucky.

The only thing “lucky” about him was you. That’s all he could genuinely point out in his life as “lucky” and “good”.

So slowly, and foolishly, the only thing he could do was simply let you in deeper into his heart, letting you carve your initials into him and marking him as your helpless servant.

----

It had now been two months since your passing. Dio returned to the mansion in a drunken stupor, finding he was unfortunately still aware.

Aware of how empty he was. How angry he was. How much he despised everything.

Why the hell was Jonathan crying over you? Jonathan knew nothing about you. Jonathan didn’t love you or care for you anywhere close that Dio did.

That rich boy who had everything handed to him and given to him just for existing knew nothing of the pain Dio was feeling.

He didn’t deserve to cry over you. Didn’t deserve to feel a god damn thing about you.

Dio was the one supposed to marry you- not him! So Jonathan should have left and let him grieve properly over the fact his betrothed was now gone.

Was this God’s way of punishing him? Huh? Was this his sick joke? A reminder to him that no matter he did, he was never meant to be happy?

Was that all his life was? One meaningless, empty joke for God to amuse himself with?

Dio couldn’t help but burn every letter he had kept from you over the years. He didn’t need them. With a bottle of alcohol in his hand and a few letters in the other, he held them over the fireplace and let them burn to ash and dust. He didn’t care. Couldn’t care less.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing could ever bring him satisfaction. Nothing could ever bring him joy or peace. He was obviously not meant to have it.

Even your own father tried to console Dio, having thought of him like a son, but Dio couldn’t bother. Your father promised to give employment and a portion his fortune to Dio still, already securing his future wealth.

But that wasn’t enough. It was not enough. For every ounce of love you tried to give Dio, he felt a thousand times more angry at the world he lived in.

He didn’t need this world. He didn’t want any of this. He couldn’t live like this.

He couldn’t die like you- oh god, no, he couldn’t. He’d most certainly be punished and made to repent for his sins.

As he burned the last of your letters, he downed the rest of the alcohol, burning his throat. He could not muster anymore tears, not after he laid the roses down on your tombstone. Dio Brando was dead and buried alongside you.

All that was left of him was his hatred.

So close to having everything he wanted, and now it was all gone.

He was so close to even giving up his earlier desires to torture Jonathan, instead content to protect your father’s business and travel with you after he finished getting his degree. But now he had nothing to hope for.

Drunk as he may have been, he found himself thinking like he did when he was a young boy.

Yes… I’ll just kill them all. I’ll ruin them all. I should’ve stuck with that plan originally.

He cursed himself between hiccups, cursing himself for daring to let you in, letting himself feel safe around you, letting himself be vulnerable and able to be torn to shreds by you.

It was his fault. His fault for all of this. If he hadn’t acted a fool and loved you, he could’ve had Jonathan gone, perhaps disowned or dying in a ditch somewhere. He could’ve been the richest, prodigal son of Britain. He would’ve been powerful then. He wouldn’t have had to have you extinguish every ounce of life within him.

He was no longer human. He was now Dio. Only Dio.

Dio, who hated everything. Dio, who had no love for anything but himself. Dio, who wanted everything erased. Dio, who had become exactly like the man he despised most.

He hated it all.

In his anger, he picked up the pictures you had given him and threw them all in the fire. He hacked out his lungs when the smoke billowed from them and surrounded him. A few photos began to melt before his very eyes, but for some reason, one of them caught his eye.

The terracotta, three story mansion from your trip in Cairo. The one you wanted to take him to. The one you two dreamed about going on your honeymoon for. The one you joked about possibly buying and redesigning to make it your home forever.

He gasped and grabbed the photo, blowing out the flame quickly and saving a majority of the picture. The corner was burned off, but the picture still remained. He held it to his chest and let out a shaky breath.

Cairo was something he could never give up. Cairo, the only place that would allow him to be with you. Cairo, the place where you two promised to go.

You promised.

So why…? Why? Why, why, why?

But Cairo would have to wait. He had something he needed to do first. Once he could get rid of Jonathan and George, and everything else that would stand in his way, then he could go there.

I will find you again in Cairo, my (Y/n)...

#x reader #reader insert #jojo #jjba x reader #jjba imagines #jjba #dio brando #dio brando x reader #phantom blood dio x reader #dio x reader

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helloalycia · 5 months

Text

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐎 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] — 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐘 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐁𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐃

summary: after you hear about Lucy Gray's breakup, you wonder if you'll finally have a chance with her. Of course, your father, the head peacekeeper, can never know you like the 'troublemaker' from the Covey.

warning/s: none i don't think?

author's note: okay so after a million years i finally got this one written, an idea that came to me like a week ago and took forever to write because life lol. I hope you all like it anyway, it’s a three parter and was fun to write :)

something to note - Y/BF/N = your best friend's name and Y/D/N = your dad's name

two / three / masterlist / wattpad

"...and I told him that he shouldn't say stuff he doesn't mean, especially when it's just plain old rude, but of course he didn't care..."

I hummed, nodding along as my best friend, Y/BF/N, rambled about an encounter she'd had with one of her neighbours, but I was also glancing around the hallway casually. It was the end of the school day and I was waiting for Y/BF/N to collect her books from her locker so we could go, but she easily got distracted.

Apparently so did I though, as my eyes fell upon Lucy Gray Baird, a talented musician and outsider in my grade, part of a group called the Covey that everyone either tended to avoid or fell in love with for their musical charm. I always found her fascinating, beautiful, as many others did, but she had a boyfriend which pretty much meant there was no chance there. Still, it didn't hurt to admire her.

She was talking to another member of the Covey, Tam Amber, when she accidentally walked into none other than the mayor's daughter, Mayfair Lipp. It wouldn't have mattered so much if there wasn't a clear tension between both girls.

"If only you could open your eyes like you open your damn mouth," Mayfair snapped at her, making passers-by glance their way, listening in.

"Was an accident," was all Lucy Gray said, and she didn't seem very apologetic.

Mayfair scoffed. "'Course it was. A lot of things with you seem to be, don't they?"

Lucy Gray rolled her eyes as Tam Amber tugged her away, the two girls going their separate ways. Y/BF/N, who had stopped talking to observe the argument with everyone else, tried to stifle her laughter.

"Wow, their hatred for each other does not seem to be going away, does it?" she commented to me.

"Do you know why they don't like each other?" I asked, curious.

Y/BF/N shrugged, closing her locker. "Mayfair's jealous, I think. Dunno why, since she's literally the mayor's daughter and the Covey are just a bunch of weirdos singing for their supper."

"They aren't weird," I corrected her as we walked outside. "They're talented. A little different, is all."

"Same thing," Y/BF/N mumbled. "Don't go saying that to your dad. You know how he feels about them."

I tried not to laugh. "He feels like that about anything fun."

Y/BF/N cracked a smile, before chuckling. "Very true."

My father was the head peacekeeper of our district, a very strict man who was a little too overprotective for my liking. Don't get me wrong, I was grateful for the hard work he put in which meant I could live in the nice part of town and never struggle to have a meal on the table. That was something not everyone in District 12 could count on. But it also meant he hated anything that wasn't to his standard.

He had high hopes for me, hoping I'd land a rare but possible job in the Justice Building when I finished school. It wasn't too far fetched considering I was a straight A student. But he also thought I was a goody two shoes who followed the rules – oh, how that couldn't have been far from the truth. If he ever found out how I snuck out at night to visit the Hob and flirt with most of his unit, I was certain he'd have a heart attack.

Being the head peacekeeper's daughter meant that it was out of my hands when he had to attend something important and I, too, had to be present. For example, today was Mayfair's birthday and the mayor had thrown a formal affair in her honour, of which my family had been invited to.

I tolerated Mayfair, but despite our similar stance in society, we didn't share anything else in common. She was too snarky and easily irritated and always killed the mood, so I remained polite with her and that was it. Her party was as boring as she was, full of the mayor's friends, the odd Capitol resident from her dad's circle, and their kids whom I wasn't sure Mayfair even spoke to. If she had any real friends, they weren't here.

Her home was pretty big, for a District 12 house anyway, which made sense since the mayor was the richest in the district, though poor by any other Panem standard. I kept to myself during her celebrations, occasionally chatting with my mum and her friends or picking at the snacks table. That was until a special performance, dedicated solely to Mayfair from her father himself, was announced. An amused grin fell on my lips when I saw who it was.

The Covey.

"Ladies an' gentlemen, how are we feelin' this afternoon?!" Lucy Gray said into her mic at the front of the space cleared in the huge dining room.

Everybody began to clap as I saw the mayor tugging his daughter to the left of the makeshift stage. To say she was angry was an understatement. But if Lucy Gray had any qualms with the arrangement, she didn't let it show.

"This one's for the birthday girl," Lucy Gray continued, smiling widely at the glaring girl in question. "Happy birthday, dear Mayfair."

After the count of three, the Covey were plucking their strings, banging their drums and joining together in a melodious rendition of 'Happy Birthday', and I tried very hard not to laugh as Mayfair was forced to endure it all. To be fair, the Covey were great, and when they performed several songs after that, half the party were cheering them on, either drunk or genuinely amazed by their talent.

Once they'd finished performing for a moment and took a break, Mayfair stormed off with her father in tow, who was attempting not to draw attention to the mishap with his party guests. Again, I couldn't help but stifle my laughter at the turn of events.

Lucy Gray caught my eyes again though, as she was approaching the snacks table I was sat at the edge of, in search of something.

"You guys performed great out there," I said to her when she was close enough, and she glanced up at me, before recognition flashed across her face and she began to smile.

"Why thank you."

"Bet you loved the gig," I said lightheartedly, and it took her a moment to realise what I was implying when she began to laugh.

"It wasn't ideal," she said in a low yet amused voice, "but a job's a job. And technically Mayfair's daddy hired us, not her."

I chuckled to myself. "Hey, it was pretty funny to witness. I'm not complaining."

She shot me a disapproving look as she tossed a grape into her mouth, but a playful smile was breaking out on her lips.

"I didn't know you and Mayfair were so close," she said with intrigue, flipping the conversation to me.

"We're not," I corrected. "Kind of a package deal when my dad's invited to these things. But your performance certainly made this whole thing worth it."

She began to smile, cheeks turning pink slightly. "You've seen our performances enough times now. You ain't sick of me yet?"

I gasped sarcastically. "Lucy Gray, I could never be sick of you. What nonsense are you talkin' about?"

Her smile widened with amusement, before her eyes flickered behind me. "Your daddy's coming. I should go. Wouldn't want him to find out about your sneakin' out and blame it on me."

"As far as he knows, you're a stranger," I played along with a teasing wink, before straightening up and turning around to face my dad.

I heard Lucy Gray walking away behind me just in time for my dad to smile down at me.

"Y/N, how are you enjoying the party?" he asked.

I smiled innocently. "It's great, dad, thanks for bringing me."

He nodded. "Good, I'm glad."

I glanced over my shoulder as he began to talk about what the mayor was saying to him earlier, searching for the Covey girl. Then I spotted her, talking to her family across the room and also shooting me a glance, her cheeky smile on her lips, mirroring mine.

A little flirting didn't hurt anybody, right?

With my father's job came many responsibilities that meant he had a lot of late nights at their base camp, including the weekend when I sneaked out the house to meet Y/BF/N at the Hob and have some fun. It was difficult at first, making sure I timed it right so my mum would be asleep when I left and also generally sneaking downstairs and out the back door. But the more I did it, the easier it became, and soon enough it was second nature.

By the time I reached the Hob tonight, everything was in full swing. The Covey were performing as usual and everybody was up and dancing. I found Y/BF/N at a table, flirting with some boys from our grade. It didn't take long for me to join them, and between the two of us, we landed free drinks just because we played our cards right.

It was so freeing at the Hob, not having to worry about my dad breathing down my neck or about being such a goody two shoes in his eyes. No, here I could do whatever I wanted. The night was always young and nobody could stop me from having fun.

I found myself dancing around with a peacekeeper, Terrence, who had finished his shift for the day and always happened to be around when I did. He'd been flirting for a while and it was easy to play along, have a little fun.

"It's too bad I can't be lookin' for a wife," he said with a boyish grin as he spun me around. "You'd be my first choice."

I tried not to laugh as I wrapped my arms around his neck. "Yeah, that's too bad for you."

"Your dad would kill me if he knew what I was doing," he said, leaning in close for a kiss.

But I tilted his head and pressed one to his cheek instead, before saying in his ear, "Good thing he won't ever find out, right?"

He snorted. "Right."

I smiled contently, before letting him spin me around some more. It was always so easy to do what I wanted here without the fear of it getting back to my father because either everyone was scared of him and what power he held, or they knew it was my word against theirs and my father would never believe them. Besides, I was doing no harm. Some people just wanted a dance and a little flirting, which was exactly what I gave them. What was the big deal?

After finishing my dance with Terrence, I joined Y/BF/N's side again, grabbing her hands and pulling her onto the dancefloor for one final dance for the evening. She laughed, letting me, and we began to chat as we swung about gently.

"How was your dance with Terrence?" she asked with amusement. "You still leadin' the poor boy on?"

"It's not leading him on if he knows it's just a dance," I reminded her. "Besides, it can never happen. He's in my dad's unit. And I don't even like him like that."

"You just flirt with him for fun," she said sarcastically, but I grinned anyway.

"Duh."

Laughing again, she let me spin her around, and then my eyes found sight of Lucy Gray beside the stage. She was talking to her boyfriend, Billy Taupe, the two of them looking awfully cosy with one another. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, knowing it was just an irrational jealousy, nothing more. I'd never even hinted that I'd liked her, and she'd been taken for a while now, but it was easy to wonder what if.

"You're staring," Y/BF/N noticed, before following my gaze. "Ooh, Y/N, you've gotta let that one go. She's trouble, I heard."

"I didn't even say anything," I defended myself.

"You don't need to," she said knowingly. "Your face says it all. And I'm warning you now. It's not worth it."

I rolled my eyes lightheartedly. "Yeah, yeah, just keep dancing, idiot."

She stifled a chuckle and we got back to it, but not without me stealing one last lingering glance at Lucy Gray.

Of course, after that evening, news of her and Billy Taupe travelled all around school. Rumour had it that he'd cheated on her with Mayfair and, as a result, they'd broken up. Of course it was horrible to hear, but admittedly, the first thing I wondered was did I finally have a chance?

Almost two weeks after hearing the news of Lucy Gray's breakup, I was at the Hob again. I'd been watching the Covey perform all evening, though this time without Billy Taupe who was permanently out of the band it seemed. I'd been waiting for Lucy Gray to be free so I could attempt to make a move.

And after what felt like forever, she finally took to the bar to have some water, and I sucked up a breath before approaching her with a skip in my step.

"Lucy Gray," I started with a smile, earning her attention. "You okay?"

She took a sip before nodding at me. "Yeah, just havin' a break."

"Just a break from singing, right?" I asked, making her quirk a brow. I continued, "Because I'd love to ask you to dance."

A smile grew on her lips, matching the sparkle in her eyes. "I've seen you around, Y/L/N. You probably ask everyone that, don't you?"

I resisted the urge to laugh. "Without sounding big headed, they ask me. So, no, not everyone. Just you. I'd like to dance with you, if you'll have me."

She pursed her lips, eyes flickering between mine considerately and in a way that purposely left me waiting, hoping she'd say yes. Finally, she sighed lightheartedly. "Well, I suppose if you'd like it, who am I to decline?"

My smile widened as I put out my hand and she gladly accepted. The rest of the Covey were playing a song slow enough to have us swaying to the melody, joining the other dancers on the floor.

"You're pretty good at this," Lucy Gray mumbled with amusement, hands wrapped around my shoulders and her head looking over it so I couldn't see her expression.

"Can't be stepping on your toes now, can I?" I said quietly, as to not interrupt the momentary peace that had washed over the Hob. "What sort of impression would that make?"

She snickered. "And why would you be tryin' to make any impression, darlin'? It's just a dance, ain't it?"

A smile crept on my lips. "That it is. But you never know."

She pulled back for a moment, honey-coloured eyes glancing between mine as if trying to decipher my words. I thought I was pretty straightforward, but she clearly didn't agree. Finally, her smile mirrored mine and she leaned her head on my shoulder as we swayed to the song.

It was only a few minutes long, of which, despite my apparent calmness, I was a little nervous to be dancing with such a beautiful girl. I hoped she couldn't feel my heart racing between us. It certainly didn't help when she began to hum lowly, clearly knowing the words to Maude Ivory's ballad, and the deep reverberation of her humming echoed in my ear.

When the song came to an end, everybody parted and applauded the band for their song. Meanwhile, Lucy Gray pulled apart, hands moving from my shoulders and to my hands, squeezing them gently.

"Thanks for the dance," I said to her with a suppressed smile.

"Thanks for askin'," she replied.

My smile was permanently fixed on my face as I watched her walk away, back to the stage for her next number. It wasn't until Y/BF/N appeared out of nowhere, patting me on the back, that I was pulled from my Lucy Gray-induced stupor.

"Someone's crushing," she teased, and I simply ignored her as I glanced back at the brunette onstage.

I was lucky she was giving me a chance at all.

After that initial dance, it became almost tradition to dance with her every time I could, and she always accepted, for some reason giving me the time of day. Visiting the Hob had a new, exciting meaning now, and not just to have some fun fooling around.

Getting to know her more, hearing her talk about her love of performing or something that happened to her that day, meant we were growing closer. Not quite friends, but not anything less either. We'd see each other around school and greet each other, or she'd walk past me in the markets and flash me a smile. Y/BF/N thought I was insane to like her, but I couldn't help it.

A few weeks after that initial dance, she was rambling about some frustrating things before her show, including her shoes not tying quite right, or the step on the stage being a little dodgy and making everyone trip up. One of her complaints was about her red lipstick, which had officially ran out and was her favourite one to wear for performing. Lipstick and makeup in general were rare finds, and she must have searched around a lot to get it, but now she couldn't replace it, not for a while anyway, and it was upsetting her more than she let on.

I couldn't help it, of course. I had to rectify the issue. So, I found a way to trade some meaningless things at the markets in exchange for a red lipstick, one that looked fresh from the Capitol and that I knew Lucy Gray would love. Later that evening, after sneaking out of my house, I headed straight for the garage behind the Hob that the Covey had claimed, where they prepared for their shows.

When I entered, everybody was doing different things, from tuning their instruments to fixing their hair.

"Lucy Gray, Y/N's here!" someone shouted in a teasing voice, and I didn't get chance to see who as Lucy Gray suddenly appeared, stealing my attention.

"Hey, darlin', what're you doing here?" she asked with a bright smile, looking as beautiful as ever.

"Just wanted to wish you luck," I told her, returning her smile. "And of course, bring you a little something."

Her dark brows knitted together above confused eyes, and I took the lipstick from my jacket pocket before holding it out to her.

"You were saying how you felt weird performing without it," I explained as she curiously took it to inspect it, "so I got you another one. Can't have the iconic Lucy Gray without her iconic red lipstick, can we?"

An amazed smile grew on her lips as she looked at the colour, and I couldn't stop looking at her.

"Y/N, this... how did you get this?" she asked with a laugh, meeting my gaze.

I shrugged, and she rolled her eyes before hugging me.

"Thank you so much," she said gratefully, pulling back to grin at me. "I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything, just wear it," I said.

She laughed again before going up to the mirror hung on the wall, applying the lipstick as she always did before every show. And when she turned around, I knew I'd made the right choice. As always, she stole my breath away.

"You look beautiful," I told her truthfully. "But you always do."

The pink tingeing her cheeks was contrasted to the deep red of her lips, but she remained confident as she stepped towards me knowingly.

"There's only one way to truly test it," she said, and I didn't get chance to ask what she meant before she pressed a slow but firm kiss on my cheek.

I was dumbstruck, not expecting that at all, and she pulled back with a satisfied smile. Her hand ghosted my cheek, thumb rubbing gently on the inevitable lipstick stain on my face.

"I'll see you out there," she said, dropping her hand but not her smile. "Thanks again, Y/N."

Still reeling at the sensation of her lips on my cheek, I couldn't find the words to reply. She laughed before returning to the Covey, and somehow I found myself walking to the Hob to sit with Y/BF/N. As soon as she spotted the lipstick on my cheek, the laughing and teasing began, but it didn't mean much when Lucy Gray walked out onstage, her matching red-painted lips curved into a grin.

It was easy to fall quicker and harder for Lucy Gray after that, so much in fact that the only thing I wanted to do was kiss her for real.

No matter how much time we spent together, the shameless flirting and banter wasn't enough. I didn't want to be platonic, I wanted more, and I was sure she might have wanted it too.

One evening at the Hob, we were both sat at the bar chatting. Well, she was chatting and I was very much distracted by the sharp curve of her jaw and the curly ringlets of hair that kept spilling into her eyes and the way her mouth moved with each word she spoke and–

"You're not listenin', are you?" she asked lightheartedly, humoured smirk on her lips, matching the quirk of her brow.

That seemed to be the final straw for me, and I couldn't help but lean in, kissing her. Only as I did it did I realise the insanity of my actions, the carelessness, and I pulled away just as quickly. Before I could even scold myself for acting so recklessly, endless apologies on the tip of my tongue, something caught my eye from behind her.

My eyes widened when I recognised the person who had just walked into the Hob. It was my father, the head peacekeeper who hated coming in here because he believed it was a distraction and a bad influence. He was here, and he'd just walked in with some of his peacekeeper friends.

And I was sat in here, a little too close to a girl he also deemed a bad influence. Oh, shit.

"My dad," was all I could get out, before I forgot everything that had happened with Lucy Gray and immediately threw myself over the bar, hiding behind it.

"What are you doin'?!" Lucy Gray leaned over, looking down at me with a puzzled expression.

I couldn't have hunkered down anymore if I tried. "Dad. Doorway. Now!" I whisper-shouted, as if he'd suddenly hear me from all the way across the room.

She must have looked and recognised him as her shadow disappeared and she was no longer trying to talk to me. As I formulated a plan to escape, hoping the full house and loud music would be the perfect distraction, I heard a familiar voice nearing.

"Commander Y/L/N!" Lucy Gray exclaimed loudly, and my heart sank at the possibility of getting caught. "Hi!"

He hesitated, before responding, quite literally just above me. "Lucy Gray, right? The Covey. You performed at Mayfair's birthday a couple of months ago."

I could practically picture the grin on her face as she answered enthusiastically, "The one an' only!"

Sounding a little more laid back than usual, he said, "It was an excellent performance."

"Why, thank you, sir," she replied kindly.

It was quiet between them for a moment, as he ordered a drink with the bartender who thankfully seemed to understand why I was hiding right next to his feet, but he mustn't have left afterwards, as Lucy Gray spoke up.

"Oh, they'll bring your drinks to your table, sir."

"It's fine, I'll wait," he said dismissively, and Lucy Gray merely hummed in response, but I didn't hear her leave.

My heart was racing as I didn't dare move a muscle. My father was stood right next to me, only a bar between us, and I was sure he'd kill me if he knew I was here. Why the hell was he even here?! This was so unlike him!

But no, I couldn't think about that right now. I could only focus on leaving before he discovered my presence.

"So, are you performing here?" my dad asked Lucy Gray in an awkward attempt at filling the silence. He was never good at small talk.

"Uh-huh," she responded just as awkwardly, and I appreciated that, despite my previous mistake with her, she was still willing to keep my secret.

"Nice," was all he said. "I look forward to it. The officers say you're really good."

She didn't reply, must have smiled or nodded or something, because the conversation ended and I was back to hearing the blood rushing in my ears.

After what felt like forever, I heard the bartender serve my dad his drink, and then the latter wished Lucy Gray a good evening before leaving. I didn't dare move, not until I was certain, but Lucy Gray banged the top of the bar to get my attention.

"He's on the other side talking to some officers," she assured me.

"I need to leave out the back," I said, not showing my head just yet. "He'll kill me."

"Okay, just wait," she instructed, and I did just that until I realised she had rounded the bar and was holding her hand out to me. "Come on."

Accepting her hand, I let her keep a look out before she dragged me through the back and out the door, away from my father's prying eyes.

A sigh of relief escaped me as I was in the clear, and Lucy Gray was laughing at my expense.

"That was close," she said between laughter, glancing back as the door closed behind us.

Straightening up, I nodded in agreement. "It was. Thanks for the assist."

She settled on an amused smile before her eyes met mine and her expression softened. "You know, you were in the middle of somethin' back there."

And just like that, the mortifying realisation of kissing her returned to memory, and I was instantly about to apologise.

"Yeah, I–"

She cut me off with a kiss, just as abrupt as mine, but unlike me, she didn't pull away, and I was left to melt into her lips, savouring the warmth of her skin pressed to mine. Her hand cupped my cheek, fingertips pressing down gently, and I sighed into her lips as she began to pull away for air.

"That was... unexpected," I muttered, lips still tingling.

She tried not to laugh. "As unexpected as you kissin' me before?"

I exhaled, slightly embarassed, and she licked her lips before taking my hand and squeezing it gently.

"You should probably head home before your daddy finds you out here," she said, a hint of humour in her voice.

"Home, right," I agreed, before meeting her eyes. "I'll see you at school tomorrow?"

She grinned. "See you then."

I smiled softly before kissing her hand and leaving. It was safe to say I couldn't sleep the rest of the night, my only thoughts of the curly-haired Covey girl who'd stolen my heart.

#the hunger games imagine #the ballad of songbirds and snakes imagine #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #lucy gray baird imagine #lucy gray x reader #lucy gray baird x reader #lucy gray baird #rachel zegler

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kkaewrites · 1 year

Text

real or not real — nagi seishiro x reader !

warnings. indecent language, ooc nagi.

tropes. meet-ugly, enemies to lovers.

you hate nagi seishiro.

he was stone cold, often referred to as socially awkward— but you feel like those were just excuses to make up for his rude and nasty behavior. personally, you think he’s overrated just because he’s considered a soccer genius. of course, no one ever believes you. they think your hatred clouds your judgement (it obviously does not).

you first met him when you were in grade school, deskmates for the first day of class. he was shorter than you at that time, but aside from his height, everything about him stayed the same. he still has the same gunmetal gray eyes that’s either reflected with boredom or reflected by the screen of his gray nintendo gameboy. he still has the same white hair, as clean as the first drop of snow, but as wild as a lion’s mane.

to you, there was absolutely nothing about him that’s fascinating— he was the same as any average boy. playing mobile games was his favorite past time, so much so that you believed that it was his lifeline at one point. or so you’d assume. he always kept to himself and was left to his own devices (quite literally), most things that kids enjoy don’t seem to pique his interest. you guess those were the reasons why he didn’t have many friends.

no, scratch that— he didn’t have any friends.

at first you wondered why. if there’s one thing you noticed about him even at a very young age, it’s that he’s handsome. he doesn’t have to be the “rich kid” with amazing gadgets and fancy toys, or the “cool kid” who knows what right words to say and way to say it, but he’s nagi. he was conventionally attractive without even trying. however, that fact doesn’t seem to make up for the fact that he looks lonely.

so, you’ve devised a plan to talk to him.

“hey. sei-chan, wanna be my friend?” you’re everyone’s friend. the sunshine child, the one who always lends her classmate crayons or pencils, the kid with pigtails who smile at strangers for no reason. you’re the kid that everyone loves, and if by some miracle, someone hates you (which has never happened and will never happen)— everyone would simply take your side. you’re loved by all.

if nagi was shocked by your sudden proposal, his features didn’t show any signs of it. what he does is pause his current game and faces you. it’s the first time you’ve ever stared at him eye-to-eye. your heart jumps.

uh oh. is this what they call a crush?

eyes filled with hope, you patiently waited for nagi’s response. you expected him to utter “sure” wearing his usual monotone voice, but it doesn’t come. and what he says instead ruins you. your heart does a somersault and tumbles, crashing onto the pavement and breaking into tiny, gliterring pieces. it did not feel good.

“no thanks. i despise people like you.”

you’re not sure what you’ve done wrong at that very moment. maybe you were too blunt, too cheery, too whatever — just something too much to be able to upset someone like nagi seishiro, who doesn’t feel strongly about anything or anyone. you didn’t have the courage to ask him what you’ve done wrong because your vision blurs. you always reckoned that it was due to anger, but your mother who saw you run home with tear-streaked cheeks says otherwise.

you still don’t know how you managed to piss off nagi, even until your very first year of college. after grade school, you never saw him again. you heard he studied at some prestigious high school but that was the end of it, you never really asked because you had no interest whatsoever. you somehow managed to assure yourself that there was no way you’d ever cross paths with him once again— so why is he here?

why, of all places, would he be your deskmate for your politics class?

at this point, you thought maybe the gods above despised you, too. did they hate you enough to not only be schoolmates, not only be classmates with this man, but to be deskmates? hate is the only logical explanation for this fucked-up coincidence. you’re not keen on fates or invisible strings so you’re sure this was just a punishment for you.

oh god. you hate it so much. you hate him so much.

without a word, you took the seat right next to him, taking the opportunity while he’s sound asleep. you’re not sure why he would take politics as his subject, because as far as you know about him, all he ever cares about is his mobile games. maybe soccer as well, but that’s not exactly related to politics, either.

when the professor enters the class, you found no reason to wake him up. he could get screamed at for all you care, but there was no way you’d ever converse with him at your own accord. because the only way you’d ever survive sitting next to him for the whole semester is by not acknowledging him at all. you can do that. you can avoid talking or looking at him. he’s not that talkative (and he’s not even awake) to begin with.

until your plan crashes and burns.

he turns out to be your partner for a school project— a big one, at that. you considered going solo, but the whole point of the project is to make sure two people are working together. it was a community development kind of plan, so unless he works with you and you work with him, you’d be getting an F for your politics class. that, you can’t have. even if it meant talking to him and enduring his presence.

he wakes up right after the class ended and you could barely contain your scoff. he sat through the whole 2 hour lecture just like that, does he have no care for his grades? doesn’t matter. it’s none of your business if he fails, that simply means that you won’t see him much anymore (which is a win for you).

you sighed. he should’ve been paired with someone else. why did it have to be you? why did it have to be your deskmate? and why did he have to be your deskmate? it was too much. how could you ever work with someone you hate? with someone who hates you?

you’re going to fail politics. you’re 100% sure of that. there was just no way that you’d ever accomplish this task— or you could beg your professor to let you switch partners. or you could ask your classmates to let you switch... but who would ever want someone as lazy as nagi to be their partner? fuck.

from the corner of your eye, you saw nagi yawn. it took all of you to swallow your pride whole and gulp it down to ever approach him, but it’s better than not trying. if you fail, at least you tried. even if it meant battling your inner demons.

so, clutching your bag straps tightly as if it would ever help, you turned to your sleepy deskmate. “nagi. it seems like we’re partners for the politics subject. i’m expecting you’d cooperate willingly so that—”

“sorry,” he interrupts with half lidded eyes. “do i know you?”

“you’re going to rip your paper to shreds.” nagi commented from behind you, peering over your shoulder as you aggressively wrote on your notebook. you imagined the page to be nagi’s face as you cruelly stabbed it, not caring about your pen or your paper’s state. you cannot believe that for some reason, you’re still stuck with the snow white haired guy. you’ve tried everything there is to get rid of him but nothing seemed to work.

“right,” your teeth could break with how hard you clenched your jaw. “will you be free later?”

“oh. i have soccer training.”

of course he fucking has soccer training.

you gave him the strongest deadpan you could muster before exhaling a deep breath. once to calm yourself down, twice to clear your head and thrice in hopes of losing all of your lungs’ air so you could shrivel and die on the spot. nagi seems to be unaware of your thoughts— and even if he had understood your facial expression and body language, he simply did not care.

“i’ll be free after, though.” he adds, as if you’d ever know that information if he hasn’t uttered it. this at least gives you the sense that he might care about the group project, and that he won’t be a complete inconvenience.

“okay. let’s meet up at the coffee shop near school. will you be done at 8?”

“yeah. but,” he pauses. “i thought we’d just do the project at my place.”

“who died and made you king?” you blurt out before you could think of a proper response. you wondered if you’d ever feel so strongly about a person the same way you did for nagi. he was driving you mad.

“what?” his clueless face almost made you feel guilt— almost. but you ignored the sensation and frowned instead. the least you could do was give him a clearer sentence:

“there’s no way i’d ever step a foot at your house.”

“it’s fine. no one’s home anyway.”

“that’s even worse.”

“huh? oh. don’t worry. you’re not my type.”

the conversations you somehow hold with nagi infuriates you. he has this way of making you feel like shit for some reason, and he does it with so much nonchalance you’d wonder if he insults everyone. but you know better and you know he definitely doesn’t, because you’re the only one he treats like this. it’s the absolute worst.

what does he mean you’re not his type? were you not pretty enough? not tall enough? not skinny enough? not fair enough? not what? ever since grade school, you’ve always thought that he sees you as someone “too much” and yet as he stands here with you, in an empty classroom— you wondered how you could be “too much” and yet be “not enough” at the same time.

and since when did you care about how he views you? since you were kids, apparently. because the words he would utter up until this day shatters you all the same. and you hate him— so goddamn much. but beyond all that anger, there’s grief. it doesn’t subside even as you grabbed all your things and shoved 6”3 foot tall nagi aside.

for some reason, he shows up at the café you mentioned at exactly 8 o’clock in the evening. you were typing away on your laptop, while a cup of caramel macchiato and a bunch of scattered papers littered your desk. you didn’t expect him to come, and it would’ve been better if he didn’t. but somehow, he’s here and he looks a little apologetic.

“are you upset?” he asks. his sports bag slumped over his shoulder as he stands right next to you. there’s an unoccupied seat in front but he doesn’t take it— at least, not yet. his whole, undivided attention was poured onto you and you alone. it makes you squirm in your seat, so you decided not to look up from your screen to greet him.

“no. take a seat.”

“you look upset.”

“do you want me to be upset?”

“no.”

“then shut up.”

wordlessly, he takes the seat right in front of you and slouches. he looks battered and fatigued from practice, but he doesn’t say a word to complain (to your absolute shock). you guessed that he walked straight from the field to the café without even changing or taking a shower, because his clothes clung to him like a shirt a few sizes smaller.

“shouldn’t you go change?”

“yeah. but i left my clean clothes at my apartment.”

fifteen minutes pass and you suddenly closed your laptop shut, eyes fixated on nagi’s gunmetal gray ones. he looks surprised from your sudden move, a look that you didn’t expect to recognize due to how miniscule it was. you felt bad for him. the café was getting too cold for comfort and all he wore was his jersey (one that’s drenched with his sweat). if you stayed any longer, he’d probably catch a cold.

why you care, however, that was not a question you could currently answer.

“let’s just go to your place.”

despite his constant need to laze around, his place wasn’t a complete mess— well, yes, there are (presumably dirty) clothes on the floor and used dishes on the sink, but you’ve seen worse. you expected his apartment to be so much worse. it seems like he’s not a complete monkey to not understand basic hygiene and cleanliness.

your only problem is that nagi seems to be bored. you caught him dozing off the coffee table as you ramble about your politics project, and you don’t even have to ask if he cares at all— because he’s trying to hide his obvious distate and boredom. so, even though you’d rather proceed to do your work rather than humoring this 6 foot tall giant, you pipe up:

“wanna play a game?”

“what game? i don’t like games that require effort.”

“it’s called real or not real. we take turns in guessing if the other person’s sentence is real or not real.”

“sounds like a pain.” he groans.

“you know what truly is a pain?” you turned to look at him. “this politics project. so take it or leave it. i’m kind enough to give you a break.”

“shouldn’t we play a different game? a mobile game, maybe.”

“what about a wager, then? the winner’s the boss.”

the game was a piece of cake— to you, at least. nagi’s an open book and it’s easy to read him. you explained that the mechanics goes like this: you take turns in giving very specific sentences about yourself, and the other party has to guess whether it’s real or not real. five wrong guesses means that the other person wins. so the only thing you have to do is to make sure that nagi loses first.

unfortunately, you were down to four mistakes while nagi only had one. the game wasn’t going like how you imagined it would be. how were you supposed to know that nagi keeps a cactus as a pet? how were you supposed to know that he only figured out how to play soccer when he was in high school? how were you supposed to know that he’s got a picture of his crush under his study table? (you still had no idea who that crush is, and it quite literally shocked you). how were you supposed to know that someone like nagi seishiro, was capable of liking someone romantically?

on the other hand, out of the six sentences you threw at him— he had only guessed wrong once. you don’t know how he’s so good at this game, too. it was either he knew awfully a lot about you, or was really good at second guessing things. you’re pretty sure it was the former. how could he know a lot about you, when he doesn’t even know your name?

“real or not real: i hate you.” you stated. his nonchalance was putting you off, but you’re not sure if you were uneasy because of it or if you felt guilty for saying that sentence out loud. you told yourself you could just take it back and act as if it’s not real but nagi himself looked so convinced when he said:

“real.”

he was right once again. but you didn’t have enough time to dwell on the whole thing when his sentence comes.

“real or not real: i want to kiss you right now.”

the silence was so loud it pierces your ears— or maybe you have gone deaf with that sentence. you’re not sure of anything at the moment because it feels like your senses were slowly slipping from your own fingers. if nagi was joking, his face didn’t show any signs of him laughing soon. but maybe you should know better, maybe he could joke like that with a straight face.

so you waited for a few minutes, for him to tell you that it was a joke— that it’s not part of the goddamn game because how could it be part of it? but nothing comes. his eyes were simply on you as he patiently awaits your answer. your make it or break it answer, at that. and it only dawns on you that this is real, this is his sentence and he’s expecting you to play. he’s expecting you to answer real or not real. because you were the one who proposed the game in the first place.

you wanted to scream and to run away, but you were rooted on the spot. time stood still and it froze you under nagi’s unblinking gunmetal gray eyes, as if the situation’s not bad at all. but this is a trick question, your rational mind says. he told you when you were younger that he despises people like you, asked you if he knows you upon meeting at your politics class, and told you that you’re not exactly his type— so there’s no way he’d want to kiss you. right?

you meet his gaze. right, nagi?

against your better judgement to think it through, you suddenly blurted: “real.”

his face doesn’t shift and nor did the mood of the room. your heart was beating erratically as if you’re not facing the guy you clearly hated with a passion, but the silence ensues. you were screaming at yourself, why the fuck did you say real? were you out of your goddamned mind? were you crazy? the answer’s clearly not real!

nagi, however, only looks away. “huh.”

“what?”

“i almost won. what a pity.”

“the answer’s real?”

“yeah.” he tilts his head and answers as if you were stupid. as if you were the one who’s weird and doesn’t get what’s happening— but maybe that really is the case. because you’re mind hasn’t caught up yet. what does he mean the answer’s real? does that mean he wants to kiss you, right now? how is that possible after all the things he had said to you?

you laugh. not the quiet giggle or the chuckle you were accustomed to doing, but a belly laugh— one that could rival a hyena’s. because this was funny. too funny. he’s definitely joking and you’ve only figured out that now.

“okay, fine. you got me.”

“what do you mean?”

“the joke. you’re so serious that i almost missed it.”

confusion marrs his face. “what joke?”

“about the kiss.”

“i wasn’t joking.”

“well, i’d rather have you joking than for that sentence to be real.”

“you hate me that much?”

he almost sounds hurt, but you knew better. how could he be hurt, out of all people? if there’s anyone who’s hurt, it would be you. how can he say all those hurtful things with so much nonchalance and tell you things like he wants to kiss you? how cruel must he be to toy with you like this? it was not funny. none of this was funny.

and it reminds you of your childhood— of your little crush on nagi that never seemed to go away. somehow, the little you screams that you should not fall for something like this. that it is easier to hate nagi than to love him. that it is easier to stand up from your seat, smile, and tell him: “yeah. i do.”

it has been a week. maybe two. or three? you’ve lost count. you’ve never visisted nagi again after the whole real or not real game, and you never saw him often because he’s been excused. something about soccer championship that you didn’t bother listening to. besides, you liked the comfortable silence now that he’s not around.

your phone dings. and it’s from an unknown number. but somehow, you guessed it has something to do with nagi.

unknown

real or not real: i’m sorry

oh. that’s right. the game technically hasn’t finished yet because no one has won. you told yourself numerous time that you won’t reply to his message, but against your better judgement, you somehow still did.

you

real

when your class ended, nagi seishiro was right outside. he was panting and sweaty— as if he ran just to get where you were. but this is nagi we’re talking about. there’s no way he’d actually do something like that, despite his lingering look on you. what’s that supposed to mean, anyway?

breathless, he speaks up to catch your attention. you were busy stuffing your books inside your locker, back against him as you completely ignored his presence. you did not say hi. you did not meet his gaze. but even without direct contact, your heart was drumming against your rib just by knowing that he’s near. what the heck.

“we won the game.”

there’s a lot of responses that entered your mind at that very moment. entry #1, who asked? entry #2, who cares? entry #3, why are you telling me this? and the list goes on. you’re pretty sure none of them were positive— but this was all so confusing. why was nagi chasing after you like a lost puppy who lost its mom? what’s he going for here?

“that’s good for you.” you slammed your locker shut and walked away. nagi eventually follows after you, as if there’s something in his throat that he wants to let out, but you didn’t give him the chance to. you’re sure nothing that would come out of his mouth is good. you’re sure he’s running after you because of the politics project, or because he wants to annoy you.

and you hate it. you hate him. your gut twists at the thought of him running after you like this is some shoujo manga and that’s the annoying part. how is your heart flipping with your every waking step if you hate him so much? you’re supposed to hate nagi, god fucking damn it.

you finally stop in your tracks, whipping around to face the 6 foot tall soccer player. to get it all over with.

“is there something you need to tell me?”

“we haven’t finished the game.”

“i don’t care about the game. leave me alone.”

“it’s your turn. your real or not real.”

this was stupid no matter what angle you look at it. it was just some game you made up and decided to try with nagi. it didn’t mean anything to you because all you wanted by then was to get his attention, so why did it matter so much to him? you don’t get it. you’re not sure how nagi circuits because everything he does confuses you. and before you know it, your irrational side takes over. reason left your body when you blurted the words:

“stop it. fucking stop this.”

why are you so persistent?

“was it fun to toy with me? was it fun when you told me you despised me when we were kids? was it fun when you told me i was not your type? i don’t fucking get it.”

you were angry. mad. seething. your blood boiled underneath your skin and you feared that it would leave your whole being in nothing but dust. through it all, you’re also confused. perplexed. lost. your mind can’t understand the fine line between hate and love anymore. your feelings overlap with each other and merges— you’re not sure what you’re feeling now. you’ve wondered how long you’ve buried this string of emotions you’ve had for nagi. that would explain why you’re nothing but a ticking time bomb now.

“if my playing with my feelings give you so much fun— then do it elsewhere. i have no time for things like this, nagi.”

“but i’m not playing, though. i’ve liked you for quite awhile now.”

excuse me?

“oops. i accidentally gave the answer to my next sentence. what a pain,” he scratches the nape of his nexk and looks away.

how the fuck am i supposed to respond to that?

“do you expect me to believe you?”

“i’ve got no reason to lie,” he shrugs. “plus, lying’s a pain. i don’t like it.”

“but— what you said back then...”

“i, well. i go blank when i talk to you. i guess. my stomach flips when you’re around and my throat goes dry.” nagi doesn’t look at you once while he utters this. tinge of red coats the tip of his ears and this is where you think ‘this is it’. he’s not lying. this is real, and you know that much— nagi never looked nervous until now. you think maybe that explains why he would avoid your gaze and why he would say the most confusing things. you think maybe this is nagi. the socially awkward nagi. the one who can’t talk to people properly nagi.

“i’ve always thought you were pretty. i despise pretty things because it makes me feel things. it’s a pain.” he mumbles. “of course i know you. of course i know your name. but it’s the first thing i thought to say because your face was too close. you’re prettier up close.”

he should stop talking. he should drop it all together and just kiss you, but you could never say these words because you haven’t wrapped your head around the whole thing yet. nagi likes you. nagi thinks you’re pretty. nagi short circuits when you’re around. nagi thinks you’re pretty. nagi’s actually confessing. nagi likes you. he thinks you’re pretty. he likes you.

“i don’t like pretty things. that’s not my type at all. but reo said i might be in love with you.” he finally turns to look at you and tilts his head. your face burns— and you swore it was because of the remnants of your anger, but everyone else could tell that it was not. your heart does a somersault, but this time it does not drop. it stays in the air, lingering like nagi’s perfume scent, until he carefully waits for it to land on his palms when he said: “i think he’s right. i’m in love with you.”

for the duration of your game with nagi and with all the truths shared between the both of you— this is probably the most real out of them. this is the only time he doesn’t ask the question ‘real or not real’ because his face says it all. his face says that it’s the real and raw truth. his face says that you must believe this because he’s not making it up. it was the first time you could read his expression. it was the first time that you’re not confused by nagi.

“fucking dumbass,” you comment. “that’s not how it works.”

you reach over to grab his collar, on your highest tip-toes because of his height. you’re pretty sure you’re the only ones present in the secluded corridor but the clamors of your heart makes an illusion of people cheering for you. somewhere in the parallel worlds of your universe, you think maybe those cheers exist. it only silences when you pulled nagi down with you, whispering:

“i hope you still want to kiss me, then.”

when he closes in the gap between the both of you, his answer was loud and clear.

i do. always.

notes. YES YES YES i finally finished this long ass fic! i’ve been writing it since forever & im just SO glad i finally get to finish it 🥹 as u can see, there is nothing on my mind rn but nagi seishiro. he’s literally living in my head rent-free and i’m not complaining. i love him too much. i hope u enjoyed this ‼️ as always, likes & reblogs are appreciated <3 thank you so so much for ur patience & love for this blog ❤️

ִ ࣪𖤐 masterlist !

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tosuckmyweenis · 11 months

Text

A man and his dog

I saw this post about Leon loving nintendogs, and my mind was melting.

What would it be like to introduce him to it and go through the entire tutorial.

bonus pics of doggy at the end

Spring cleaning started, and it was one of the very few things Leon took seriously, going through every nook and cranny to see what he could get rid of and compress down; he liked living light and says it's because he doesn't want to trip on things when he comes home after a few too many, but you highly doubt that the only reason.

Sitting curled up on the couch corner, sipping your drink and watching whatever was on to pass the time before bed

"Hey, I found this in an old box that was falling apart in the closet; I thought you might want it" he held up the bright pink purse bag and wiggled the destroyed box in the other as proof before tossing it to the side.

"Oh hey! I wondered where it went; hand it over." you stuck your hands out for your treasured possession.

"What is it?"

"It's my old DS; I used to play this all the time. My favourite game was Nintendogs."

Opening the case, you pulled out the gray charger, inspecting it to ensure no exposed wires before holding it out to Leon.

"What do you do in it?"

"You take care of dogs, of course," Pulling out the pink device next, opening it until you heard the satisfying click, the memories it held bringing a smile to your face.

He takes the cord from you and leans over the small table to plug it in, handing the end to you.

Saying a silent prayer before plugging in, letting out the breath you were holding when the orange glow hit your eyes

"And she charges still!"

Setting it down on the side table and digging through the rest of the bag, you pull out the cartridges, looking for the one you're hoping is still there. Purrpals, catz, petz, all close, but not what you’re searching for. Leon takes his seat next to you, plopping down with a little too much force, jostling you into him. throwing his arm on the back of the couch behind you and leg crossed in his typical fashion, he observes you turning each cartridge before dropping them into your lap. “What are you rooting around for?” “Nun ya.” snorting at your own joke “Haha, very funny.” the lighthearted tone in his voice made it clear he knew you were joking “Found it!” exclaiming excitedly, grabbing the ds and inserting the cart before powering it on to the familiar jingle, you select the game and hand it to him expectantly.

"I never started this one, so how about you give it a try?"

"I guess I could take a break; I have been cleaning all day" he wasn't too hard to convince; after all, he'd move the world if you asked him to.

"Please knock?"

"Yeah, take the stylus here and tap the door gently. " pointing to the side, making him tilt the system and slide the stylus out

the door swinging open when he taps has him fascinated

"This is kind of cool. I never had one of these growing up."

Leaning over to watch him, practically narrating the tutorial for him.

"You can go straight to buying your puppy or play with the kennel dogs."

"Of course, I'm going to the kennel; those puppies deserve love too" he sounded offended at the thought of just going straight to the buying.

The screen flashes white and the top screen switches to a dog view of a golden retriever digging on the ground.

"There's 3 of them! Look at this one; she's digging."

"You can have multiple dogs if you want."

"What does this do?" he questions himself while pressing the button; a whistle is heard along with the pattering sounds of puppy feet and barks.

"It calls them to you," you say matter of factly

"Thanks, genius," a small smile tugging at his lips

He takes the stylus and begins petting the closest dog on the screen, which happens to be a tiny white chihuahua. After petting him for a few seconds, he rolls over, and you swore you can hear Leon gasp.

He takes his time petting each dog, ensuring they all get a turn before leaving the kennel.

"Alright, now we look at my options" Once the menu pops up, you can see his eyebrows wrinkle and nose scrunch.

"I didn't think I'd have this many options."

"It is called Dalmation and friends; it's not just one breed."

"Alright, the first option is a Yorkie; Pros: go."

It's not like any of these matter, but you play along anyway; brainstorming never hurt anyone.

"Pro: they are small, they are built for city life, and they bark at everything so no one will ever be able to break in." your reasonings were solid

"Cons: If they're too small, I'd probably step on them; barking at everything is a con if we live in an apartment, noise complaints and we don't want evictions."

Scrolling to the second one

"Beagle, pros: Low maintenance, so if we go away, it'll be easier to find a sitter; if we ever get stranded in the woods, he could help us hunt rabbits for food, and they have floppy ears," he finished his list and looked over to you

"Cons: House training can be harder than other breeds; they are also very vocal, so no apartment life either." you countered

"Good points. Golden retriever, All pros and no cons, Next."

"Wait for a second; you can't just skip an entire br-"

"Boxers, Affectionate, could be box a pro and a con, watchdog which makes me feel better if you're home alone or I'm busy, and they are super smart. Your turn"

"Uh, well, They shed more, so extra cleaning would need to be done; they don't do well left alone, and with our schedules, it just wouldn't work."

"Sad but true. German shepherds, Loyal and love the outdoors, we could take him on our hiking trips."

"We could; that would be pretty fun; you know I always pictured you as a cat kind of person."

"I also like cats; I had one growing up and named him Peaches because there was a patch of fur in the shape of a peach. Loved him to death," Leon recalled with a sorrowful smile.

"Enough of that, though. Now for the start of the show, Dalmations.......I got nothing." he quickly changes the subject

"They make really cute firefighters?"

"Well, I guess we could put him to work, make him earn his keep" Leon chuckles at his joke

"Alright there, Come on. we know which one you're going to choose."

Leaning your head on his shoulder, you slink your arm around his, cuddling into him

"Was it that obvious?" clicking the little golden retriever tab brought up another set of options

he stared at the screen showing 3 little puppies, two girls and a boy, all a different shade.

"So you can click one, and it'll bring up a little bit of info about them."

Clicking the first picture

"She has a very laid-back attitude, won't bark much and loves to sleep...Sounds a little like someone I know."

The arm you're holding moves to nudge you in the ribs slightly, causing a small laugh to escape

"All reasons you love me, I hope."

"That and so much more." leaning over to kiss the top of your head lovingly before clicking the next one

"The male puppy is full of love; he can get lonely at times but is still the perfect pup for family life."

Now that sounded like someone you knew, but you'd keep that to yourself for now.

"He's very charming" You look at the top screen, showing him scratching his ear before being barreled over, a toothy smile tugging at Leon’s lips

"And last but certainly not least, this little lady. She has a bright personality and is recommended for first-time owners."

The camera zooms in on the girl, you could see him staring fondly at the animation of her pawing and playing with the boy.

"So, what do you think?" you inquire, his eyes staying focused on the screen of the puppies

He didn’t even miss a beat, he already decided the minute he seen him "I'm picking the boy...Can't have him be lonely."

Your new life with your new puppy is about to begin He looks a little nervous, being in a new surrounding

"Aw, don't be nervous little guy."

Spend some time with your puppy to help him feel more comfortable

Touch the whistle icon to interact with him

Following the instructions, he presses the icon and watches the puppy run up to him, placing his paws on the screen while Leon pets his head

"He's very cute, and he loves head pets."

He seems to have calmed down quite a bit; Surely you must have an idea of what you want to call this puppy, don't you?

"Uh oh."

"Can’t think of a name, what about meatball?"

"Meatball is a cat's name." “What about someone important?” It was like a lightbulb went off in his head after that, his eyes lit up to match “I know what I’m going to name him”

hearing him repeat the name over and over, it tugged at your heart, he had told you the story of that night and how he wished he could have done more to help

He seems quite happy you've given him a name. Keep calling his name so he can get used to the sound of it.

"Marvin huh, That's a wonderful name." “Yeah, I think so too”

Watching him roll around on the screen and respond to the name, petting him every time for positive reinforcement

This is a good time to teach him how to sit. Gently pet the top of Marvin's head, then slide the stylus down his head to make him sit

"Already learning tricks, I knew my Marvin was a smart dog!"

"You can feed him the lightbulb!" He was ecstatic about that and fed him each one, not missing a single one

Now you need to make sure he can perform the trick you just taught him

"Marvin, Sit down"

the dog just looks at him

"Marvin, Sit down"

He sat.

"Yeah! Let's go, Buddy!"

It looks like he responds to your voice and commands. You can now begin your life with Marvin

The pure joy radiating off of him infiltrated your soul; seeing him content with something small that brings him peace from the horrors he had to face day in and day out.

You woke up to Leon shuffling next to you, trying to move as little as possible, you look over at the clock, and it read 3:48 am. You think he is having one of those nights and is just settling down, so you decide to wait a few seconds before turning towards him or saying anything until you hear the tell-tale click and the beginning of the opening chime before it is cut off abruptly, Leon let out a hushed 'shit' before all movement halted, you could practically hear his heartbeat hammering in his chest. You felt his eye burning into your back, checking to see if he woke you; you pretended to be asleep. After a moment, you heard the light tapping of the stylus and a very, very faint bark.

#leon kennedy x reader #Leon Kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil #leon x reader

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st4rymoon · 5 months

Note

Guardian angel miguel 😳👀

🤫 guardian angel/stalker mig….

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 ・𝘔𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘖'𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘢 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

- 18+, fluff, “guardian angel” Miguel but this is giving more stalkerish, book geeks, kissing, language, p in v, unprotected sex, rough Miguel, breeding kink, genetically made for each other <3, protective Miguel, lap fucking, BD Mig, oblivious reader, praise kink

Miguel always found you fascinating. Whether that be the way your sweet scent intoxicated him or the lack of self-awareness you had, it didn’t matter.

He was always on the sidelines, watching you from afar as you went about your day. He didn’t know why he took it upon himself to make sure nothing happened to you but he couldn’t help but worry about you after seeing you in his universe.

You were blissfully unaware of the ruby-red eyes that protected you as you walked out of your insufferable job. Miguel smiled as you bent down and pet a stray cat, watching you coo as the cat leaned into your palm.

Miguel’s eyes darted to a shadow walking towards you, eyes narrowing at the figure as it grew closer. You waved goodbye to the cat as you got up and made your way back home.

Still completely unaware of the fact that Miguel had a man wrapped in a choke hold in the alleyway a few steps away.

He made sure you got home safely, following behind you and making sure you locked the door.

That’s how most days went, Miguel would make sure you never got hurt but he never got too close.

Until he did.

You were scanning through the rows of books, about 5 books already in hand as you eagerly read through the spines of books. Miguel walked into the bookstore, eyes already in your direction as he walked through the aisles.

He was scanning through the science books, telling himself he might as well. Your eyes widened as you walked into the same section, stunned by the tall, brown-haired, Latino Ken doll right in front of you.

Your eyes darted down as he shot up. Miguel almost jumped at the sight of you standing at the end of the aisle with your head down low. He knew you were looking at him and he loved it.

You grabbed a few books on physics which caught Miguel’s eye. It was interesting to see Wuthering Heights and a book about psychics in the same pile together.

“Emily Brontë and Stephen Hawking in the same pile is something I thought I’d never see” Miguel spoke with a smile as he glared down at the books in your arms.

“Oh I- yeah, I mean why can’t I have a love for literature and science at once?” You chuckled “Hey I’m not judging, just an interesting pile” Miguel shrugged playfully.

“And you have… Principles of Biochemistry with some more chemistry books. Science lover, not much on the literature” you hummed as you took a look at the stack of books in his hands.

“Hey, I still love my classics, Frankenstein, The Great Gatsby, and Crime and Punishment. I’m not all science”

You laughed at the way he jokingly raised a hand in the air “Good to know” you smiled as you looked down at your feet.

“You got any book recommendations?” Miguel asked, trying his best to not pay too much attention to how he towered over you. “I always do, have you read the picture of Dorian Gray? It’s one of my favorites” You nodded as you made your way towards the section the book would be in.

Miguel followed close behind, mesmerized by your features and beauty that he couldn’t quite see from afar. “Here it is” You held the book out for him shakily as you used your chin to hold the rest of your books up “Thank you, here let me help” Miguel grabbed the books slipping from your grasp and carried them for you “you don’t have to, really it’s ok” you smiled as you felt a bit rude to make him carry your dozens of books.

“You sure? I don’t mind, it isn’t like I have much to carry” he shrugged “I’m about to pay so how about you just do me the favor of helping me with them to the counter”

Miguel eagerly agreed as he followed you upfront towards the counter. You chatted with Miguel as both of you paid and talked more about some of the books you picked out.

“This was nice” Miguel nodded as you stood outside the bookstore, bags in hand he smiled down at you “It was” you shyly smiled.

You felt like this was some sort of movie, a gorgeous polite man runs into you at a bookstore. What a dream.

“You know if you want any more book recommendations, I can always give you my number if you want some more” You were surprised by your boldness but you wouldn’t mind rejection from a stranger even if he was gorgeous.

“Sure” Miguel smiled, both of you swapping phone numbers with a glint of passion in both your eyes.

And after all of that, it led you to where you are now. Many dates, a few kisses, and hundreds of laughs later, you were straddled on his lap.

Miguel couldn’t believe he had you in his grasp. After years of making sure you were safe out of pure instinct, he was finally able to protect you and lose himself in your sweet kisses.

His hand cradled the back of your neck as the both of you hungrily pulled at each other's clothes. You moaned as you snaked your hand under his shirt, the warmth radiating off his whole body made you shiver.

Miguel let out a gruntled hum as you pulled his shirt over his head “Someone’s eager” he teased. You nodded in bliss, not caring for his teasing as he tossed your top somewhere behind him.

You could feel his bulging cock through his jeans and it was driving you crazy. You don’t know what’s gotten into you, you were grinding into his length in need. It felt like you’d die if he wasn’t buried inside.

Miguel felt the same, your scent filling every molecule of his body. He soon began to understand what it was that drove him so crazy about you, genetics.

You shaped perfectly in his arms, smelt like a dream, and kissed like an angel. He couldn’t help but protect you, watch you like your own guardian angel. You were his angel, his to protect, his to love.

You could feel your own body burning at the skin-to-skin contact “Please Miguel I need you” you whined. Your hips rubbed onto his lap eagerly, fucking yourself onto his lap as he hungrily yanked your skirt down your legs.

Hearing you beg was enough for him to lay you on your back and start pulling your panties down your legs. “Fuck” Miguel let out a moan at the sight of your back arching off the bed, pussy in full view as you held onto his arms.

“Please Mig” You were unbuttoning his jeans halfway before he slapped your hands out of the way. He couldn’t resist himself from being rough but you certainly didn’t mind it.

It turned you on seeing him so eager for you.

You whined at the sight of his cock springing out of his boxers. You clenched around nothing as you took in how big he was “It’ll fit, I’ll make it” Miguel hummed with a hand running your thigh in reassurance.

A raspy moan spilled from Miguel as he coats his cock with your slick, hips swaying and nudging your clit ever so slightly.

You gasped as with one swift motion, he rammed into your tight cunt. Your nails dug into his arms while Miguel let out a shaky groan as he steadied himself with his hands on your hips.

His pupils dilated at the glimpse of the bulge on your tummy, he slid in and out leisurely with a sly smile.

You mewled as he quickens his pace, his cock plunging deep inside you and stilling just to pull back and bury himself inside again.

“Oh- you have no fucking clue h- how long I’ve dreamed of this” Miguel hummed in his euphoric state. You nodded dumbly, as you squeezed around his cock. The vice grip of your cunt made him lose himself with each thrust “m- Miguel! Oh fu-“ you mewled out.

His thick fingers played with your messy clit, slow circles rubbing onto your throbbing clit. He smiled in accomplishment as you came around his length, your eyes rolled back in pure pleasure as Miguel continued his pace “Yeah, jus’ like that” Miguel purred as he buried himself into your neck.

His soft lips lapped and sucked onto your neck as he focused on your gushy walls throbbing around him. A loud groan spilled out of Miguel as he squeezes his eyes shut, mind going completely blank as he fucked his loads into you.

“You were f- fuck! Made for m- mhm” Miguel’s moans grew louder as he continued to fuck himself deeper into you.

When Miguel pulled out of you, his eyes were focused on your pretty face. You were completely fucked out, hair disheveled, and saliva all over your lips. He hummed at the sight of his cum leaking out of your tight hole “You look gorgeous” he cooed.

He laid beside you as he pulled you onto his chest, hand rubbing down your shoulder as you took a few breaths.

“You have no clue how much I love you”

#smut #marvel smut #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara imagines #miguel o hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara smut

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