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ckret2 · 5 days ago

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Chapter 84 of human Bill Cipher getting a day pass out of being the Mystery Shack's prisoner: so it turns out Bill and Pacifica have a lot in common! And it's not weird at all! It's—it's very normal. Their childhoods were so normal.

(Since this entire chapter is from the point of view of a character who doesn't know the person she's talking to is Bill, a PSA for those of y'all who missed it. Thanks.)

####

"Okay, that's as much as I can do to help your hair without deep conditioning it," Pacifica said. "Now let's talk about styling it."

They were back in Pacifica's office, with Goldie seated in his folding chair and Mabel sitting in Pacifica's desk chair (slowly spinning it back and forth) as Pacifica lectured them. Pacifica had given Goldie a spare t-shirt to dry his hair with (you could never have too much spare clothing on hand when you were dealing with farm animals), but he'd just loosely wrapped it around his hair and promptly ignored it.

Pacifica said, "You've got this issue where the weight of your curls pulls the top of your hair down and makes it flatten out near your scalp—but your hair's all the same length, so it really flares out near your shoulders. It's called triangle hair and it is not a cute look."

Goldie and Mabel bit their lips and exchanged a look, and Pacifica got the distinct impression that she'd accidentally reminded them about some inside joke she wasn't part of.

Trying to ignore the feeling that she was being left out of something, Pacifica cleared her throat and went on. "So, uh—you can fix it with like, layering your haircut and stuff? But. I don't actually... know how to do that." All her knowledge of curly hair and its care—much less fashionable haircuts—came from fashion and beauty magazines, which covered things like shampoo and flattering styles but assumed you'd leave the actual hair-cutting to the professionals. "So. I can get your curls presentable, and I guess we can figure out a way to pin it that looks nice? But that's the best I can do without an emergency salon trip."

"You sure we can't leave the triangle hair?" Goldie asked innocently. "I think it's cute. It really feels like me." Mabel clapped a hand over her mouth and snorted.

Pacifica raised her brows. "Do you want to feel like you, or do you want to get the guy?"

"Right, of course," Goldie said. "I almost forgot what's really important!"

Pacifica passed Goldie her phone. "Here—I wasn't sure what kind of look you were going for so I saved a few pictures of curly hair styles, let me know if you like any of these." She searched through the collection of makeup on her desk for the bobby pins and hair ties she'd picked up earlier. "The trend this year is for slicked-back styles, braids, and buns—but your curls are so pretty, I'd hate to hide them."

Mabel leaned halfway across the desk to try to see the pictures too; Goldie's held out the phone to meet her halfway as as he scrolled—and scrolled, and scrolled, and scrolled. He said, "Good job narrowing down the list to a modest two hundred pictures."

Pacifica said, "Excuse me for wanting you to have options."

Mabel pointed. "Awww, look at that one with all the little butterfly hair clips!"

"It's like butterflies are eating her brain."

"And they look adorable doing it."

"Too juvenile for me. It looks like something Prisma the fairy would wear," Goldie said. "You should wear it."

Mabel's eyes lit up. "You've got to help me make fifty butterfly hair clips."

"You got it." He closed out of Pacifica's pictures, opened up the browser, and awkwardly typed in a search. "Hey, Alpaca, look at this one."

That was the second time he'd called her that. "Do you actually know my name?"

"Rapunzel." He held up a picture of some seventies movie star with thick, feathery hair that fluffed out around her face like the wings of a panicked swan trying to take off. "Think you can pull this one off?"

Pacifica grimaced. "You'd look like my mom." Except even worse and more old fashioned. (She kept that part to herself.)

Flatly, he said, "Oh no, how will I ever convince a male that I'm a prize worth winning if I literally look like a trophy wife."

That would be just about the only part of Goldie that looked like a trophy wife. (She kept that part to herself too.) "And we'd have to give you bangs."

As she suspected, Goldie grimaced and flipped to another image. At least he knew bang weren't for him. "How 'bout this one?"

It looked like a solid helmet of hair, with the ends uniformly curled outward like the embarrassing forced-whimsical hairstyle of the minions of an insane chocolatier. "Ew. That's about the only thing that could make you look even worse than you already do."

"Pacifica," Mabel said sharply. "Be nice!"

"Sorry!" She'd kept so many parts to herself that she didn't have any spare room to keep that part. "I can't do it, anyway. It would need a flat iron and a curling iron, and I don't have either."

"Can't we get some?" Goldie asked. "Any drug store should have 'em, it's a fifteen minute walk to—"

"I don't use them," Pacifica said sharply.

Goldie's stare was like a heat lamp—or maybe that was just self-consciousness heating up Pacifica's face as he scrutinized her. But after several long seconds, Goldie's gaze turned off her face. She quietly sighed in relief.

"Okay," he said. "Then this one." He showed her another picture. It had curly shoulder-length bangs, which wasn't really in style but fine, but behind them was a bouffant shaped like a deflating basketball with a wilting palm tree sprouting out of it.

Pacifica cringed. It was, unfortunately, doable. A note of pleading in her voice, she asked, "Are you really into this look?��Really?"

("I think it's pretty," Mabel muttered.)

"Oh, no way!" Goldie said. "Look at that mess! That's way too much effort for a 'do that looks like she did it drunk in the dark in under two minutes."

(Mabel looked at Goldie like he'd personally betrayed her.)

"But," he went on, "it's what our guy is into, and that's what matters here. Right?"

Pacifica studied the picture dubiously. "You're sure?"

"He went through puberty in the 70s! When his libido opened its eyes for the first time, this is what it imprinted on."

Pacifica bit her lip. Well. At least Goldie didn't think it looked good, but. "Can I at least improve it a little?"

"Oh, please!"

She picked up the comb again and grabbed a couple of bobby pins. "No promises, but I'll do what I can."

Pacifica talked a big game, but in truth, she knew a lot more about the theory of hairstyles than she did about actually styling hair. You don't have to film a blockbuster to be a film critic. So at that point, all she could do was experiment with Goldie's hair as she attempted to approximate the picture he'd shown her. She circled around him as she worked—putting in pins, taking them out, occasionally asking him his opinion.

But although Goldie had previously been a non-stop chatterer, the moment she'd started working on his hair, he'd fallen silent.

He only glanced in the hand mirror she'd given him when she prompted him, and then only to give one-word answers—usually "fine." His shoulders were as tense and his mouth as tight as Pacifica's had been the first time she had to wash alpaca poop off the bottom of a boot. And Pacifica had nearly vommed, so, that was pretty serious.

Why? It couldn't be pain. Pacifica had gotten all the knots out of his hair earlier—and even when she wasn't using the comb, it was like she couldn't even move a lock of his hair without him wincing. She kept wanting to apologize even though she was just doing what he wanted her to.

There was something going on here. It wasn't just how uncomfortable he was with being touched. There was also the way he did an awful job of washing his hair even though he knew how to perfectly well. And how he'd rather let Mabel brush his hair into a frizzy mess than comb it out himself. And beyond all that, the first thing Pacifica had ever learned about him was that he'd gotten his hair melted off and needed emergency help to grow it back. "You... really don't like your hair, do you?"

"I like it fine. It's gorgeous." He was speaking through gritted teeth, and he had his legs crossed with his feet under his thighs, palms up in lap, eyes fixed on the blanket Mabel had made, as though having a staring contest with the triangle creep would help him endure the torture without flinching. "I just—don't like messing with it."

"Which is fine," Mabel cut in. "Because I like brushing it!" She quickly amended herself: "Combing it. We've got like a symbiotic relationship going on."

"Yeah! Star girl's my personal stylist! She does my hair and makeup. I wouldn't deprive her of that honor!"

Pacifica nodded slowly. Right—all that, and he was defensive about not taking care of it.

Not embarrassed because he didn't take care of it, it dawned on her; embarrassed because he couldn't take care of it. She had a sense for those sorts of things—a middle school queen bee had to develop that sense—because that was what you targeted if you really wanted to humiliate someone: something that they couldn't help. That was it, wasn't it? He'd said he was apathetic about his body; he didn't care that his hair was messy. Because if he did care that it was messy, he would have done something about it. Unless he couldn't. Like, a mental block.

As she tried for the eighth time to gather the bulk of his hair into an updo that looked sorta fun and casual without looking stupid, she turned over everything she knew about him—about his hair, his apathy, his shame... the things he'd said to her the moment they met, before they even got started.

It wasn't a logical deduction so much as it was an instinct, and just looking at Goldie it seemed impossible; but still she said, hesitantly, "Your mom made you do pageants as a kid, didn't she?"

Mabel sat up a little straighter, confused; but Goldie turned around to stare at her, dumbfounded. "How— What—makes you think that?"

Oh please. He wasn't fooling anyone, it was all over his face. "You're so weird about your hair. It's obviously trauma from your mom."

Beneath his sunburn, Goldie's burned cheeks somehow managed to flush even darker. He gaped at her, wide-eyed and terrified, like she was a psychic who had just told him how his own parents had died. He croaked, "What?"

Pacifica burst out laughing. "Oh my gosh, you should see your face! Listen, you're clearly familiar with pageant life. And I saw so many curly girls getting their hair mauled by their moms half an hour before going on stage. I don't blame you for being weird about touching it! I had it easy—" she flipped her naturally straight hair, "—but even at that, I can't stand using a flat iron to this day."

Goldie relaxed, apparently reassured that Pacifica hadn't read his mind. He settled back in his seat. "Oh, I dunno, I find the smell of burning hair comforting! It reminds me of home!"

"Ha! Okay, yeah, you do get used to it after a while." She started attempt number nine to gather up his curls. "I wouldn't have guessed when you came in. You don't look like a... I mean... you know. No offense."

"Well, duh, you can't tell now." He gestured at himself, "I lost my good looks. What I wouldn't give to have my old body back..." He sighed wistfully.

Pacifica held back a snort. Oh yeah. More than anything else he'd said so far, that convinced her he really was a former pageant kid. In her experience, every single pageant mom trying to relive her own beauty queen glory days through her daughter said things exactly like that.

Mabel said, "Aww..." She stretched a hand out toward Goldie, couldn't reach him across Pacifica's enormous desk, and with a grunt heaved herself up to lay across the top—knocking over a couple of the cosmetic supplies Pacifica had set up in the process—so she could pat his shoulder. "There, there."

"Thanks."

She slid back into her seat. "Did you really do pageants? You didn't tell me that." A note of betrayal crept into her voice.

"I didn't tell her either—" he jabbed a thumb at Pacifica, "—but here we are!" (Pacifica shrugged unapologetically.) "I've got a lotta backstory you're still catching up on."

"Well, yeah, but—you said you just did..." She grasped for the right words, and settled on, "build-y stuff with pageants."

"I didn't say that," he said breezily. Mabel scowled at him; but shot a look at Pacifica, and just sat back without saying anything, arms crossed, her feet audibly kicking at the inside of the desk.

He didn't seem as stressed about his hair while he was talking, Pacifica noticed. (Maybe that was why hairdressers were so chatty? Or maybe just because it was kind of weird to stick your hands in someone's hair for an hour in total silence.) She asked, "Which pageant systems did you compete in?"

"None you'd have heard about," Goldie said. "They weren't on this continent and it was like a trillion years ago." Before Pacifica could pry about which continent, he added, "Hey, fun fact! Didja know that the first beauty contest in Oregon was established here in Gravity Falls?"

"Pff, duh, of course I know that," Pacifica said. "It was established by the town founder, my great-great grandpa."

"Close, but no," he said gleefully. "It was established by the real town founder."

Pacifica grimaced. "Him? The crazy undead guy without pants? Ugh, no wonder we're the only pageant with a mandatory bird calls category."

"The first three competitions were actually won by birds! They only added a fashion category to balance out the birds' unfair advantage at birdsong. Quentin resigned from the judges' panel in protest."

"He should've taken the dumb birdsong requirement with him," Pacifica muttered. "They make the kids pageant do it too. I had to get a private tutor to learn how to whistle."

"That sounds fun, though," Mabel said. "I can do bird song! Grunkle Ford taught me some. Listen to this!" She let out an admittedly impressive moo.

"Not a bad cowl call," Goldie said. "You woulda killed it at the accompanying bird costume requirement."

Mabel gasped. "I can make feather wings. Hey, do you think I could compete?"

"Not unless you move to Oregon."

"Aww."

"We can still make wings, though," Goldie said.

Pacifica had never had to deal with the dumb bird costume requirement, thank goodness. That only started in the teen brackets. Which made her wonder—"How old were you when you quit? Pretty young, right? Like, no offense, but if you need teenagers to do your makeup..." If Goldie was living as a guy now, it'd make sense if he didn't wear makeup day-to-day; but if he'd stuck with pageants past like age ten, he would have at least learned how to do his own makeup.

"Ha! You're right. I started when I was young enough that my mom could dust glitter on my butt without getting weird looks! I quit around... equivalent to third or fourth grade in the States? She wanted me to keep going—so I said, 'You want me to perform? Fine then—I'll put on the best performance you've ever seen.' And that's exactly what I did!" Thoughtfully, he added, "But for some reason I didn't win the talent portion. I guess the judges weren't impressed that I could play the piano and set it on fire at the same time."

Pacifica cracked up. "Okay wow—I retired during the talent portion too, but how you did it is way more exciting. The year I was aging out of the 9-11 bracket, I kinda had a meltdown on stage over losing to some girl with a hula hoop? Yeah, I did not win supreme that year."

"You shoulda won talent just for that scream! You hit some impressively high notes." At Pacifica's odd look, Goldie said, "Saw it online."

Figured. That was probably coming back to haunt her in ten years. "It's weird. There's like... two ways pageant girls go—er, girls or guys or... whatever."

"Whatever," Goldie agreed.

"Yeah. Either they make it part of their identity? And keep up the makeup and fashion and everything, sometimes stick with pageants as teens or start modeling professionally? Which is what I did. Or they totally burn out, don't want anythingto do with the beauty industry, and just, like, wear sweats forever."

With a faint air of wounded pride, Goldie said, "It's the bedsheet sarong, isn't it."

"No offense! I'm just saying."

"I'll have you know it's laundry day and Jesús stole my clean clothes instead of my dirty laundry." (Pacifica decided to forgive him for the weird fish smell.) "You're looking at me at a low point, kid. I was actually a pretty snappy dresser up until... lllast summer."

Hearing Goldie call her kid gave Pacifica a little jolt of surprise. For a moment, she'd forgotten she was talking to somebody with an age; she'd started to feel like she was being visited by the immortal Spirit of Washed-Up Former Pageant Children. As if he'd died and stopped aging the same time he retired. "What happened last summer?"

Goldie looked at Mabel. "Yeah, what did happen last summer?"

"Um." Mabel froze. "He... lost it all in a... um... overseas parrot circus venture! Yeah—all the trained parrots escaped before the opening night of the circus and he lost all his money."

Goldie let out a shrill cackle. "I like that, I'm keeping that."

Okay, got it, it wasn't any of Pacifica's business. "I think... this is the best I can do with your hair." She stepped back. "Unless you want to pick a style that doesn't suck."

He gave himself a cursory glance in the hand mirror, immediately lowered it, and said, "Sucky style's fine!"

"Don't say that, you look so beautiful," Mabel said. "You look like a babysitter!"

"Well, it doesn't get much better than that." He dropped the mirror on the desk. "What's next?"

####

Next—finally—was the part they'd actually come here for: the makeup.

"Okay, I tried to get around the eyepatch while I was doing your hair, but you've got to take it off for this part," Pacifica said.

He groaned, but muttered, "Fine, I've put up with this tyranny so far," removed it, and looked at her with his previously-covered eye squinted against the light—which was the point at which Pacifica realized that he had eyepatch tan lines... around his other eye. How???

There was no fixing that before tomorrow. She bit her lips, shut her eyes, pressed her hands together, and took in a deep breath. Okay. She could handle this.

"Why do you even wear this?" She tossed the eyepatch to Mabel—it was one of those cheap costume pirate-y looking patches. "Is this one of the Mystery Shack's gimmicky touristy things? Both your eyes work! And wearing an eyepatch when you obviously don't need it is just tacky."

"I've got a neurological condition! Seeing through two eyes messes up my depth perception," Goldie said. "I get migraines if I don't keep one covered! Which is admittedly the most fun thing you can do to your brain without involving narcotics, but it makes it hard to keep down lunch!"

"Oh," Pacifica mumbled. Maybe she should just get to work before she shoved her foot any deeper in her mouth.

She started by slapping aloe vera on as much sunburned skin as she could reach, handed over the jar with strict instructions to apply more in the morning, and gave him an emphatic lecture on sunburns and sunscreen and skin damage that petered out when he cheerfully started telling her about skin cancer statistics. She changed the topic when he started listing his favorite kinds of skin cancer.

She stripped off the nail polish that Goldie had apparently gotten during one of Mabel's sleepovers, and repainted it with, at Pacifica's insistence, something more "mature." (She vetoed Mabel's suggestion to paint little hearts. She vetoed Goldie's request for gold. She gave him the choice between white French tips, pale pink, or solid red. He chose red.)

She hadn't anticipated that her customer would be in such dire straits that she'd need to shave him, so she didn't have any supplies for that; but she also ordered him to get his legs as smooth as the surface of a balloon as soon as he got home—"And do you think there's any chance this guy you're after will see your pits?" "He already has!" "Hm. Okay. Yeah, uh, get those anyway."—and informed him that she would report him to the police for vandalism if he "shaved" using whatever depilatory cream he'd previously used on his hair.

As she finished plucking his brows, she said, "Okay, I think you're finally in decent enough condition for actual makeup." She stepped back, took in his face, and said, "Barely." She grimaced. "I wish I'd bought a concealer with better coverage. I didn't know the situation was so bad."

To his credit, Goldie had taken her criticism (and occasional looks of horror) like a champ. He simply drawled, amused, "The body rituals of the Nacirema are as elaborate as they are bizarre."

She picked up a couple of the foundations she'd bought and held them up next to the eye that had been protected by the eyepatch tan line, trying to determine which one was a closer match for whatever his skin tone was when he wasn't burned. "Who're the Nacirema? One of the tribes that used to live around here?"

"They're still in the area. Look 'em up."

Pacifica thought the darker foundation was closer; she tested it on his inner arm to be sure. "So, how much makeup do you already know how to apply? Any?"

"I can do mascara, eyeliner, and mascara."

"Riiight. Okay, both of you pay attention to what I'm doing." She evicted Mabel from her desk chair and dragged it around in front of Goldie's folding chair. "Because I will not be coming over to do this tomorrow, so the two of you will have to repeat this yourself. Here." She handed Goldie a mirror so he could watch her work.

Mabel hopped up to sit on the desk next to Goldie. "You have one hundred percent of my attention!" She immediately looked away from Pacifica at the makeup brushes laid out on the desk, picked up a fan brush curiously, and started dragging it up and down her arm. "Ooh. Tickly."

"Emphasize my eyes," Goldie said. "They're my best feature. You can forget about everything else, but my eyes have to look good."

Pacifica looked at his eyes. Pacifica really looked at his eyes.

There was something wrong with his eyes.

She decided to stop looking at his eyes. "Okaaay, great great great, you've got suuuper long lashes, that's fantastic. We can totally draw attention there. You don't even need fake lashes. And you've got nice big prominent eyes. Kinda bulgy, but that should be easy to hide with eyeshadow. I'm thinking maybe a smokey eye?"

"What about metallics? Like gold?" Goldie asked innocently. "Kind of a retro 'secret agent villainess' look, don't you think! It'd bring out the yellow in my eyes!"

Pacifica said, "You do not want to bring out your jaundice."

"Don't tell me what I want."

"No gold eyeshadow," Pacifica said. "Period. If you want to experiment with color, we can try a smoky eye in burgundy. Burgundy is hot this year."

Goldie muttered something about welcoming a bottle of burgundy right now, then said, "Fine! Burgundy."

(As Pacifica looked through her makeup palettes for the burgundy, Bill leaned over to Mabel and whispered, "Do we have any leftover gold eyeshadow?" Mabel nodded and winked. Bill winked back.)

"What about the rest of your face?"

"Skip it."

"I'm not letting you go bare-faced aside from your eyes," Pacifica said. "But we can do a natural makeup look."

"That's so boring," Mabel said. She was dragging the fan brush over her lips now. "If it looks natural why's he wearing any makeup at all?"

Goldie said, "Because humans are insane about the most uninteresting things."

As Pacifica worked her way through the foundation, concealer—she decided his sunburned skin had enough of a sun-kissed glow that she could skip bronzer—and contouring, she said, "You are... really good at holding still when you try." He'd gone completely still, like a statue. A statue that was making direct eye contact with her soul. She felt a bead of sweat slide down her neck. She wasn't sure he was breathing.

"He's super good," Mabel agreed. "It's kinda creepy."

"Thanks!" And just like that, he was smiling and alive again. "I do a lot of meditating! Gimme a focal point to watch and I can go like two billion years!"

"You didn't learn from...?"

"Pageants? Ha! No way, I was the wiggliest little demon you've ever seen. It drove my mom nuts when she was trying to do my lashes. She used to say 'If you love me, hold still' to keep me in place—but you know how contrary kids are when they're mad! Eventually I got fed up and said, 'Well then, maybe I don't love you!' And she didn't speak to me for three days." Goldie laughed. "Ahh, I had the most dramatic mom."

"Wow, my mom would kill me if I ever tried something like that—especially if it was in public where people could see us," Pacifica said. "She hired makeup artists so I'd struggle against them instead of her. Your mom did your makeup? Did she ever hire anyone?"

"Nooo way. We ran our operation on a razor-thin budget to maximize the profits from my winnings. The name of the game was efficiency!"

"My mom's sure wasn't," Pacifica said. "(Shut your right eye, I've got to get your eyeshadow.) We went through like, fifty makeup artists or something. Sometimes more than one while prepping for the same pageant." She lowered her voice a tad, "A couple times when the makeup artist was a creep, I messed up my own makeup just so Mom would fire them."

"Ha! Suckers. Yeah, that's probably how it woulda gone if my mom had handed me off to a makeup artist. I was not afraid to sic her on adults! We didn't have any hired help when I was that age, but the principal was terrified of her. And if another kid at a competition was getting on my nerves, I'd go crying to her that they pushed me and oh, man, she'd come down on their parents like the asteroid on Chicxulub."

"Me too! There was this girl in third grade who was so... I don't know, just—" she pulled a face, "eugh, you know? I complained to mom about her and got her family blacklisted by the whole town. They had to move out of the state just to get a job."

Goldie laughed loudly. "Now that is impressive!"

Pacifica's gut shifted uncomfortably. Was it? "Other eye now." She didn't speak for a moment as she tried to get both eyes matching. "Actually... it was... kinda scary?"

She'd asked her mom if she could puh-lease get this girl out of Pacifica's class. She'd just expected the girl to be switched to another teacher.

Instead, over the next few weeks, she heard about the girl's mother losing her job, then her father. Her older brother got kicked out of the local Future Lumberjacks of America chapter. One day the girl came to school in tears after being cut from the softball team. A couple months later, the girl's friends—the two that hadn't drifted away from her as her family became pariahs—threw her a tearful goodbye party during lunch with a mall-bought cookie cake; and the next day, she was gone forever.

After that first time Pacifica had complained about her classmate, her mom had never once mentioned the girl or her family. She never asked if Pacifica had any more trouble with her. Not even when they left town. It was as though, after her mom ground them under her heel, they were beneath her notice. Just four crushed ants.

But Goldie was staring at her, frowning in confusion, like she didn't make any sense. "What—scary for the other kid?" he asked. "Sure. It's supposed to be, isn't it?"

Pacifica didn't reply for a second. I'm afraid of how good she was at doing exactly what I asked her to do without realizing I was asking for it—that sounded stupid. Finally, she said, "Don't wrinkle your face like that, I haven't set your foundation yet. It'll make it cake up."

"Your moms sound insane," Mabel said. While they'd been swapping stories about their childhoods, she'd been staring at them, chin in one hand, chewing on the fan brush's bristles. "Were you guys tortured growing up?"

"Pfff, what? No, of course not!" Pacifica said. "My parents would never. You've only seen my mom's worst side, she's not really that bad. I mean—not to me. She's horrible to poor people, but that's different."

Goldie said, "Yeah, my mom was my biggest defender! If anyone tried to hold me back, she'd rip them a new one."

"But—forcing you to do pageants until you have a breakdown?" Mabel said, glancing between Goldie and Pacifica, mouth twisting up like the words tasted sour. "Guilting you into wearing makeup and attacking other parents and stuff? That's nuts."

"It's not like that," Pacifica said automatically, then tried to figure out what it was like.

"Now we're calling a kid's temper tantrum a breakdown? You've got a future career in propaganda, star girl," Goldie said wryly. "It's a mom's job to bring out a kid's potential, right? Sure, it drove me nuts at the time—but kids don't want their potential brought out, kids are lazy!" He shrugged, "Yeah, my parents weren't perfect—they didn't really 'get' me, they held me back from reaching my full potential because they couldn't see what it was—but I'd never have gotten on the road to unlocking my potential myself if they hadn't put me on the right path as a kid."

Pacifica nodded. "Totally! That's just normal mom stuff! My parents are exactly the same—they don't get my alpaca business at all—but there's no way I'd be running a business at thirteen if my mom hadn't pushed me to be the best I can be. Or supporting my alpacas through modeling if I hadn't learned how to present myself in the pageant system. Even mini-golf was just a hobby until my parents got me a coach and started taking me to competitions."

"And I wouldn't be the huge success I am today without those early lessons in public speaking!"

Mabel shot Goldie a meaningful look. He pointed at her. "Don't say a word. I've had a bad year, you can't judge me by that. Anyone could've lost their parrots in a freak accident."

"And some kids had it way worse," Pacifica said. "Some parents would hit their kids or scream at them for messing up their routines or getting distracted? Those girls never lasted long, you can tell if a contestant's just going through the motions because she's scared. I was never treated like that. My pageant coach taught my parents to use a 'warning bell,' when they rang it that was my warning to stop goofing off and focus on practicing or listen to them or whatever. They'd pay me in chocolate if I got back in line."

"Ha!" Goldie smacked the desk, "Oh wow, that's hilarious! Pageant coach Pavlov. My parents would have loved that when I was in the toddler competitions."

"Right?!" Pacifica laughed. "Now I'm like, wow, I used to be bribable with a piece of chocolate? Kids are sooo easy to manipulate."

"But hey, it's a good life lesson: the occasional reward and the fear of punishment is a lot more effective at keeping people in line than actual punishments."

Pacifica nodded thoughtfully. "Wow. That's so insightful."

"See?" Goldie beamed at Mabel. "Pageants teach kids all kinds of useful things! Ambition, poise, charisma, self-confidence, social skills..."

She grimaced. "Yeah, but... all the restrictions and pressure and trauma and stuff? That really sounds bad."

"I think you're just bitter that you can't enter the birdsong contest."

She kicked his arm. "I'm serious!"

He pushed back her shoe and waved her off dismissively. "It only sounds bad to you because you were never in the pageant world! It's got its own rituals and expectations, of course it looks weird to outsiders."

"And everyone judges pageants so much more harshly than other competitive sports—which is what pageants basically are," Pacifica said. "Like, pageants and competitive mini-golf took just as much practice, just as much coaching, just as much time and money—but in real life, knowing how to make myself look presentable and talk to adults has helped me way more often than knowing how to knock a ball into a hole. Mini-golf only saved my life once."

"Charisma will get you everywhere," Goldie agreed. "It's the most effective form of mind-control you can do without psychically rewiring someone's neurons."

"Basically! But getting a medal at the Sportlympics has everyone talk about how skilled and hard-working and dedicated you are, and getting a tiara in a national pageant gets people who have never even watched a pageant calling you a bimbo. Like, what?"

"Blatant double standards!" To Mabel, Goldie said, "Both your parents work in Silicon Valley. Their priority is intelligence and grades instead of looks and charisma, so that's why you and your brother get pushed in school—but it's all the same! Parents push their kids to be successful whatever way they know how."

Mabel stared into space. "Huh." She fell silent, gnawing on the fan brush's handle—pondering whether her parents worrying about her so-so grades was comparable to the pageant moms desperate for their daughters' straight hair to be straighter and curly hair to be curlier.

Smugly, Goldie went on, "If anything, the pageant circuit was more useful than school. I—"

"(Stop moving around, I've got to do your other eye.)"

Goldie obediently leaned forward and shut his other eye. "I went from pageants straight into public speaking. I had an entire career before I was out of school. Everyone loved me! I was a natural in the spotlight!"

"Really?" Pacifica said dubiously. She could buy that he might have been a competitor as a kid, but honestly, he seemed pretty creepy to her. Enough confidence could carry you pretty far, but...

He rolled his open eye. "Don't take that tone with me. It was before you were born! And like I said—I've lost my looks. I used to be..."

He trailed off, staring down at his nail polished hands like he didn't recognize them.

He muttered, "I used to be so much better than this."

Mabel reached out and rubbed his upper arm comfortingly.

Sometimes Pacifica caught her mom staring in a mirror, studying her face with an expression somewhere between nervous and depressed, gently touching her fingertips to the thin lines beginning to appear around her eyes and mouth as though she were examining gruesome wounds. Her mother had always said that looks are everything; and even though she didn't talk about her feelings directly, from the way she sometimes snapped at Pacifica to keep up her skincare—moisturizer, sunscreen, hydration, don't frown too hard—Pacifica thought maybe she wasn't worried about Pacifica's face so much as her own.

Goldie only had the faintest traces of the start of wrinkles, unnoticeable if Pacifica hadn't just spent the past few minutes plastering foundation on his face. She wondered how old he was. She wondered whether he had the same fear her mother did: that his body was letting him down, slowly dying all around him.

You don't go through the child pageant world without learning two things: everyone wants you to look and act older than you are; and the older you get, the less anyone wants you.

"I've got to do your lips," Pacifica said, picking out a couple of options: a red so bright it was nearly orange (totally in this year), a nice glossy nude that ought to be a close match to Goldie's natural lip color. "Did you want to stick with the natural look, or...?"

He glanced up from his hands at the offered lipsticks. "What the heck," he sighed. "Let's make it red."

Pacifica nodded. "Pooch your lips out for me, like this." And that was the last they spoke for a while.

####

(Here's your regular TBOB report: no actual plot was changed due to TBOB. I added in a few lines referencing it: the imagery of Priscilla grinding normal people beneath her heel is meant to be reminiscent of Pacifica's giant nightmare on TINAWDC; the "meditating" for specifically two billion years is a direct reference to the barber pole, although I'd already headcanoned that Bill can meditate/dissociate for absolutely vast quantities of time; I already had dialogue where he goes on the importance of charisma and how much everyone adored him as a kid, but I tossed in another sentence or two about charisma just because of how strongly he emphasizes it in TBOB; and originally I had dialogue where Bill went on about what big supporters his parents were, even though he privately feels like they didn't get him—all I changed was deciding to make him admit to some of those feelings out loud, since it's something he says outright in TBOB. I've imagined that he tends to swing between "they were the best/they were the worst" based on how he's feeling at the time with no neutral ground in between—whiiich lines up pretty well with what TBOB gave us.

And unrelated but I spent way too long researching makeup & hair trends in the 70s and in 2013. I had no idea orange lipstick was hot for a while. My idea of doing makeup is painting my nails once every six years.

Hope y'all enjoyed, and I'm looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts! I've been eager to dive into this aspect of Bill's backstory and Pacifica's POV for a while.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #pacifica northwest #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #(god i hate the chapters from the POV of characters who don't know they're interacting with Bill)#(calling him the wrong name the whole chapter is torture. I kept having to correct his name. ... un-correct his name?)

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brookediamonds · 2 months ago

Text

these hands had to let it go free and this love came back to me | Axel Kovačević x fem! reader

based off this request

summary: after moving to the states from Hong Kong, you join a local dojo to pursue your love for karate and try to move on from the past you left behind. that included your ex-boyfriend that broke up with you right before you left. little do you know, you'd come face to face with him once again.

Wc 2.k Warnings: none, fluff, angstttttt

not my gif

You had dreaded this moment. The day your dojo was invited to the Sekai Taikai, you prayed you wouldn't have to see him again. But there he was, dressed so nice in his green uniform, his captain's head band tied around his forehead you loved to kiss.

Axel Kovačević stood across from your team with the Iron Dragons, your former team. And now with seeing Tory stand with Cobra Kai, you couldn't help but feel sick to your stomach.

"You look like you're about to throw up," Miguel whispers over to you seeing your ill state.

"I might," you admit honestly.

"Maybe we can talk to her," Sam spoke up next to you.

"Yeah," you whisper knowing Tory wasn't the one consuming your thoughts.

Axel watched as the tall curly haired boy next to you reached behind you and rubbed your back comfortingly. Had you moved on? Who was this guy touching you?

After the head guy of the competition introduced all of the teams, and talked about the history of the Sekai Taikai, you're released for the day due to mingling events the sensei's have to attend and activities for the students to do.

As everyone was assigned to their designated rooms, you stood with Miguel and Sam waiting for Robby to return back to the group as he went to talk to Tory.

"Maybe I can ask my dad if we can go to one of the restaurants near here for dinner," Sam said scrolling through her phone seeing the map around the area.

"Johnny said all the student's are being treated to dinner at some restaurant nearby," Miguel interjected glumly.

"All the students?" You froze. That meant...

"(Y/n!)" You recognized her accent, the perky fake attitude hidden behind her voice.

"Why's that girl coming over?" Sam questions you.

"Well long time no see," Zara approaches you a smug look on her face. You roll your eyes, turning to face the perso you least wanted to see.

"Hi, Zara," you respond curtly crossing your arms over your chest.

"Sorry Axel couldn't say hi," she dramatically pouts. "He's busy finding our room. Cause we're together."

Our room? They were together?

"Can't say I'm surprised, you always did come up second to me," you tsk'd, tilting your head.

Sam and Miguel raised their eyebrows, eyes widening at your pettiness. They knew you could hold your own, but this was a new side of you they'd never seen before. And they were all for it.

Zara shot daggers at you, scoffing at your remark.

"Watch your back," she threatened glaring at you before walking away.

"Okay, start connecting those dots," Miguel and Sam step towards you wanting clarification. You stared off thinking back to when Axel ended things between you two.

A year ago...

You stretched on the mat of your dojo, distracted by the news your parents just gave you. Your mom received a promotion at work and the new position took place in Los Angeles, California.

You loved where you had grown up, even though you're originally from the states, you had spent the last ten years here. No dojo would be able to go through the same lengths as this one.

And California sure as hell didn't have Axel Kovačević, your current boyfriend. You had fallen in love with his dedication and quiet demeanor. He was your favorite mystery.

Seeing Axel walk into the dojo, you stood up on your feet and walk up to him.

"Hey," you greet him softly wrapping your arms around his frame. Axel goes stiff making you frown.

"Everything okay?" You ask pulling back from his body.

"Yes, need to go change," he says abruptly avoiding eye contact with you. Your shoulders deflated, at his sudden distant attitude. The only time he does this is when something is on his mind.

The next few hours of practice feel extremely long, especially when your sensei is taking every opportunity to call you out on every mistake you make.

When class is over, you wait outside the building for Axel, hoping you could talk him through whatever was on his mind.

"There you are," your boyfriend says seeing your figure standing alone outside the doors.

"I was waiting for you," you give him a small smile. Axel gives you a faint smile, his eyes still not entirely meeting your own.

"Axel, what's the matter?" You ask reaching out to stroke his arm. He takes your hand in his, squeezing it lightly.

"I- I think we should break up," he says hesitantly. You feel your heart drop to the pit of your stomach.

"What?" You blink, thinking maybe you misheard him. Maybe make out?

"I do not feel we belong together, I am sorry if this hurts your feelings," he says robotically. You drop his hand making him look down at you.

"D-Did I do something?" You stutter trying to find out where you went wrong this past week.

"It's not you," he shakes his head. "I think this is for the best."

You try to hold back the tears that swell in your eyes, his words cutting deep into you. None of this had made sense.

"Axel, I don't understand-" you begin to talk but he cuts you off with an impatient sigh.

"I do not want you anymore, (Y/n)!" He raises his voice startling you.

Oh. You nodded quickly wiping away the fresh hot tears cascading down your cheeks. He didn't want you anymore, he outgrew you.

"Got it," you muttered no longer looking at the boy you adored. "I'm not enough for you anymore."

"(Y/n)," Axel attempted to reach out for you but you had taken a step back not wanting to hear his excuses.

"Don't," you warn him making him stop in his place. "You made yourself clear."

He dropped his hand, watching your face turn to stone.

"Goodbye, Axel," say coldly before walking in the opposite direction, away from him.

Little did he know it would be the last time he saw you. When he saw your empty locker the next day, he was dumbfounded, no way you left this dojo just because of him.

He then learned a few weeks later, you were gone. You left home and there was no way of getting you back.

Present

"Last I heard, Sensei Wolf had lost the dojo to gambling, but I guess he got it back," you explained to your friends.

You, Sam, Miguel, and Robby hung out in your room waiting for it to be time to go to the aquarium.

"So this Axel guy, you two used to date?" Robby asked carefully.

"Yup," you respond lowly. "Didn't last that long."

"I can't imagine how weird this must be for you," Sam empathizes with you. You've always appreciated her grace, it's something that lacked severely at your last dojo.

"Not really," you admit sheepishly. "Iron Dragons had the best fighters, but it doesn't mean we worked well as a team."

Sam gave you a look knowing that's not what she meant.

"I moved on from him, we broke up before I left town anyway," you shrug off, avoiding their gazes.

At least you think you moved on.

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

Your body was on high alert everywhere you went, the boy you fell in love with still gave you the same nerves he had given you on your very first date.

And you hated it. You were supposed to hate him after he did what he did to you. He made you feel small, like you were nothing.

Miyagi-Do made sure to never let you feel that way again. They accepted you for who you were and all that you are.

"You've got be kidding me..." you mumble seeing Axel and Zara sit diagonal from you, a couple of seats down from Robby and Miguel whom directly across from you and Sam.

"What's the matter?" Sam asks filled with concern. Her eyes trail down the table, landing on the issue that was bothering you. She lets out an angry sigh.

"Do you wanna move further down?" She suggests thoughtfully.

"No, we were here first," you held your head high, adjusting the menu in your hold. Sam nods, and from the corner of your eye you see her gesture to the people to the left of Miguel and Robby making them glance that way.

"There's so much room down there, they had to pick the chairs closest to us," Robby shakes his head in annoyance.

You can't help but giggle at your friend's protective state, one thing about this friend group; they will treat you like their own family.

"What's funny?" Miguel asks trying to see the comical side of this ordeal.

"Nothing," you grin at the three confused teenagers. "I just... love you guys."

"We love you too," Sam reciprocates wrapping an arm around you, leaning her head on your shoulder. You follow suit, laying your head on top of hers.

Unbeknownst to you, Axel is watching everything that happens. He sees your beautiful smile, the one that only a few people can bring out of you, it makes his heart ache.

He hears your laughter from down the table and can't help but want to know what was so funny? Who was making you gasp for air from how hard you were laughing?

He had missed the sound of your sweet giggles, to hear them again made him crack a smile he hardly wore now that you were gone.

For a brief moment, your eyes wonder down the table and connect with a pair of dark blue irises making your heart jump. Do you smile? Wave? Look away?

Before one of you can acknowledge each other, Zara catches sight of the two of you and holds her phone up in front of her and Axel making you break eye contact.

Right, they're together.

You focus back on Robby, slightly turning your body so you didn't have to face Axel the rest of the night.

When dessert was being passed around, you excused yourself needing to use the bathroom.

After you finished your business, you walked out into the hall but stop in your place when you see the tall Croatian boy standing a few feet away from you.

"Hey," Axel greets you, his deep voice sending a flutter through your heart.

"Hi," you exhale, taking in the sight of the boy in front of you. He wore a pair of black joggers, a red t-shirt, and his black jacket you would borrow time from time.

You make your way to walk past him, when he tugs at your hand, twirling you around to pull you in close, and smashes your lips together.

Fireworks erupted through your stomach, as he ran his hand through your locks, tugging your body close to his as much as possible.

You gasped shoving the boy back, realizing what had just happened.

"Why did you do that?" You demanded, tears brimming in your eyes.

"There's something you need to know," Axel says desperately making you shake with anger.

"You broke up with me," You pointed to yourself, reminding him he was the one who wanted out. "You said you didn't want me anymore."

"Is everything okay over here?"

You turn to see Robby standing behind you, his eyes filled with concern for you.

"All good," you smile faintly at your co-captain, walking towards him wiping away your salty tears.

"(Y/n)-" Axel reaches out for you again only for Robby to step in front of you.

"Let her go, man," Robby says calmly. Axel's face fell as you avoid his gaze.

Your friend wrapped an arm around you as you crossed your arms, guiding you away from your ex-boyfriend.

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

Sleeping was inevitable. You tossed and turned unable to get comfortable. There's something you need to know?

Ripping your sheets off, you quietly get out of bed and write a note for Sam incase she wakes up wondering where you went.

You decide to head to the hotel's gym to practice your breathing work that Sensei Toguchi taught you when you're feeling overwhelmed.

As you walked into the studio, you're taken by surprise when you see someone else was borrowing the room.

"Oh," you see Axel turn to you mid-move his eyes widening.

"S-Sorry," you apologize, "I'll go."

"Wait," Axel walks towards you, stopping when you start fidgeting with your fingers knowing it was a nervous tick you had.

"I do not apologize for kissing you," he confesses. "I missed you."

You shut your eyes, groaning at his words.

"You're with Zara," you point out to him. "You can't kiss me and be with her at the same time."

"I am not with Zara," Axel furrows his eyebrows, a small frown evident on his face. There was a jump of excitement that ran through you but then you remembered how things ended.

"Fine, with her, not with her, it's all the same," you mumble. "You ended us after a few months, with no explanation."

"I did not want to," he says urgently afraid you'd leave before finally being honest with you.

You narrowed your eyes at the guilty boy across from you, confused at what he was getting at.

"Sensei Wolf said we became distraction for each other," Axel explains.

A distraction?

"I did not want to hold you back, so I followed sensei's orders," he states. "I let you go so you could continue being the best fighter you could be."

You moved to sit down near the closest bench processing what he had just informed you.

"But now that I see you here, with those other guys," his hands turn into fist, tightening at the thought of them making you smile. "It makes me angry, I made mistake breaking up with you."

Axel tests the waters and moves to stand in front of you. You glanced up at him, slowly standing up your face only meeting chest level with the lengthy boy.

"Those guys are my friends, they're my family now," you explain softly. His familiar cologne filled your senses causing tingles to run through your body. You had missed him, all of him.

A year wasn't nearly long enough to forget what you two had, you still loved every little thing about him. His adoring freckles, his calming demeanor, his hard to pull smile.

"They look like they love you," he scoffs holding back an eye roll.

"They do love me," you say matter factly. "Because we're a team, we look out for each other."

"Do they love you as much as I do?" He asks throwing you for a loop. He closed the gap between you two, moving your hair over your shoulder.

You shuddered as Axel ran the back of his pointer finger over your cheek, finding it difficult to keep holding your wants back.

"They might," you murmur raising your hand to mess with the zipper of his jacket. He leans down, hovering his lips above yours, his warm breath mixing with your own.

"Do they kiss you like I used to?" He whispers before capturing your lips with his. It's passionate but sweet, making you chase after his lips when he pulls away.

"Maybe," you respond breathlessly as he tilted your head to the side giving him access to leave soft pecks down your neck.

"Do they even know what it takes to handle a woman like you?" He spoke lowly against your skin, tugging at the back of your hair lightly to make you look up at him.

You bit your lip, eyes hazily meeting his own.

"Probably," you teased. Axel ran a thumb across your bottom lip before diving in to brush his lips against yours, this time his tongue explored your mouth, getting to know it all over again.

When you come up for air, he leans his forehead against yours, pecking the tip of your nose.

"I am afraid if I let you go again, I will never see you, kiss you, or touch you, again," he frowns, rubbing your back soothingly.

"Then, don't," you beg. "I've missed you too."

"You do?" He asks searching for an answer in your eyes. You bring your hand to stroke his cheek.

"I always do," you respond. "Everyday."

"I do not care what sensei says, I love you and I will do anything to be with you again," he states.

"Anything?" You ask raising a skeptical eyebrow. Axel laughs pulling you into his chest, resting his chin on top of your head.

"Anything and everything," he promises leaving a sweet kiss to the top of your hair.

Anything and everything was true, Axel and you kept in contact the next few months until you both graduated and finally flew to see one another.

Turns out the study abroad program you applied to back in September had an opening in Europe making things just a little bit easier to see the man you loved.

#cobra kai #axel cobra kai #axel kovacevic #axel kovacevic imagines #axel kovacevic x reader #axel x reader #Spotify

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blackcoldcrackedheart · 4 months ago

Text

Small Halloween fic based on this post

Buck knew Tommy's biggest secret, that despite their friends thinking Tommy was the "cool guy", Tommy was indeed the biggest dork Buck had ever met.

Buck wasn't complaining though because it made Tommy cooler in his eyes.

So it didn't surprise Buck one bit that Tommy absolutely loved Halloween to the point where Buck had discovered that Tommy's house was the house to go to for trick or treating since Tommy always had a jump scare pranks for the older kids and full sized candy bars for everyone who came knocking.

And of course Tommy was a huge advocate of wearing costumes, he had shown Buck the costume he had worn during past Halloween parties from Captain America, Hulk, Super Mario, to a werewolf complete with a furry mask. Tommy was definitely into Halloween.

Which was why he was super excited to show Buck the costume he had picked out for Chimney and Maddie's Halloween party. The party was set to be adults only (The Lees had opted to take care of Jee, Denny and Mara for the evening) and fortunately it was when the 118 crew had a night off.

Tommy had been quiet about his options so all Buck knew was that Tommy was still deciding.

The costume options where the last thing Buck was thinking off when he returned to Tommy's home after a brisk run around the neighborhood, Buck had just mid swallowed a gulp of water when Tommy stepped into the kitchen with arms spread wide and asking Buck, "So what do you think?"

Buck choked on his water, spitting it everywhere as Tommy came up to clap him on the back. "Are you okay?" Tommy asked worriedly.

"Are you trying to kill me?" Buck asked, getting the air back into his lungs, his tone held no malice or anger. Buck was sure he was red all over and it wasn't because he was struggling to clear his throat.

But because Tommy was wearing a Spartan costume. The costume left little to nothing to the imagination. Buck's eyes were glued to Tommy's chest, were a harness was wrapped around his boyfriend's shoulders and chest, attached to a long red flowing cape and complete with pleather looking cuff wristbands. The happy trail on Tommy's stomach led to brown leather "shorts" that were essentially underwear and made Buck feel overheated and lightheaded all at once.

"You don't like it?" Tommy asked, looking genuinely wounded. He ran his fingers down the cape. "I thought it looked cool." He picked up the plastic sledge hammer that was tied to his "shorts", "Even came with this cool hammer." He smiled, the crinkles around his eyes, along with Tommy's curly hair and stubble had Buck losing blood flow to his head.

"You don't think it's...I don't know? Revealing?" He gulped, touching his boyfriends pecs and running his fingers down Tommy's chest hair. He stumbled over his words as he saw Tommy looking at him in a affronted manner. "I-I just mean uh that it might be a lot for a Halloween party?"

Tommy shook his head good naturally in disagreement, "We're going to an adults only Halloween party, trust me I'm sure this is probably the least revealing outfit we'll see there tonight. Especially if dispatch is invited, they really like to break loose after hours." Tommy waggled his eyebrows playfully.

"It's just that..." Buck's fingers skimmed the top of the shorts, "You look like you're legit wearing underwear, really hot underwear." the fuzzy part of his brain wondered if Tommy had on a cup, he had to be based on how tight the damn shorts were. Buck felt himself lick his lips as pulled on the shorts, earning a slap on his hand from Tommy.

"Hey!" Tommy pushed him back playfully, "Hands off the merchandise."

Buck didn't let the push deter him from grabbing Tommy by the hips and pulling him closer, "My merchandise." he growled, huffing out a groan as he started kissing Tommy's neck, biting hard at the skin under Tommy's ear.

"This is really doing it for you?" Tommy asked shivering as Buck's hands started to pull at the laces on his shorts. "Baby, it's a essentially a knock off of on a Thor costume."

Buck didn't bother even looking up as he started to kiss down Tommy's neck to his chest, "You just came in here wearing underwear and a harness, its going to do something to me, Tommy." he peered up at Tommy, watching how the older man looked both surprised and turned on as Buck press open mouth kisses over his chest.

Buck felt himself preen as Tommy started to pant, "Okay, so maybe the costume stays home." he decided as Buck dragged him towards the bedroom.

"It's definitely going to stay on, especially that cape." Buck promised.

This wasn't revenge.

Well, not exactly.

But Buck had a plan up his sleeve, it just took a few days to execute said plan.

Despite him and Tommy deciding to opt for a costume couple (they compromised and settled on going as Deadpool and Wolverine since they couldn't settle on which Star Wars franchise to pick from), Buck had his on costume he wanted to wear for Tommy.

Granted it wasn't anything outlandish, but Buck knew Tommy had one major weakness.

Romantic period piece movies and shows.

(Buck could freaking memorize Mr. Darcy's line from Pride and Prejudice by now)

Which was why Buck didn't bother to shave for a while, bought tan high waisted linen pants and those billow-ly white "pirate" shirt that would show off his chest. Separately they looked ridiculous, together along with Buck's curly hair and opting to go bare foot, he looked like he walked off the set of a Bridgeton episode.

Which was the goal.

Tommy was working on Buck's jeep when Buck sneaked into the garage.

"You almost done?" he asked Tommy airily.

"Yeah," Tommy stood up and turned around, "Just abou-oumph."

Buck mentally gave himself a high five as he watched Tommy open and close his mouth multiple times, his blue eyes wide. The way he could see Tommy's chest rise up and down was the added cherry on top.

"Cat got your tongue?" He asked playfully, watching as Tommy dropped the towel he was using to wipe his hands.

"You look..." Tommy dry swallowed, rushing to get his hands all over Buck. "Hot." he wheezed out. "God, you look- Evan, all you need is the accent and I would get down on my knees immediately." Tommy swore, his fingers dipping under Buck's shirt and brushing Buck's stomach.

Buck used his two fingers to lift Tommy's chin up and in his best British accent (A really good one if you asked Buck) told Tommy, "I take it the gentle sir thinks highly of my attire then, hmm?"

Watching Tommy's eyes dilate and his intake of breath was all Buck needed to know he won.

He already knew where they were going when Tommy started to pull him into the house but he asked anyway- showing off his accent still, "Where are we going?"

"The garage floor is killer on the knees and I have plans for us now!"

#bucktommy #tevan #buck x tommy

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vanteguccir · 1 year ago

Text

── ୨୧ !　𝗗𝗔𝗗𝗗𝗬'𝗦 𝗙𝗔𝗩𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗧𝗘 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟

　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x mom!reader

SUMMARY: Where Matt realizes that his daughter, Eloise, has him tied up in her pinkie.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: No.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"Matt!" Y/N called from the kitchen, lifting her chin so that her voice echoed better throughout the house, turning her attention back to the items in front of her as she began preparations for lunch.

"Daddy!" Eloise's thin, excited voice echoed through the kitchen, catching Y/N's attention, who momentarily turned back, her eyes finding her daughter.

Eloise sat cross-legged on her fluffy pink carpet, scattered around her were barbies while her little fingers held a mini pink pan and a mini purple spoon. In front of her, almost on top of her white sock-clad feet, she had a mini board with fake vegetables of all colors. The little girl had asked that her mother give her her kitchen toys, wanting to imitate her.

Eloise had an area with toys in each room of the house, and in the kitchen it was between the refrigerator and the counter, with a child-sized stove and refrigerator in neutral colors, full of plastic kitchen items in all colors, and a pink carpet on the front.

"Hi, my little dove." Matt replied, having entered the kitchen seconds after his wife called him.

The man went to his daughter, bending down momentarily and kissing her head covered in curly brown hair - exactly like his -, tied with a pink bow. The smell of children's shampoo and neutral perfume filled Matt's nostrils, making his heart warm from the scent he loved so much.

Matt stood up seconds later, walking over to his wife - who had returned her attention to the vegetables in front of her. His arms wrapped around her baby blue apron covered waist, resting his large hands on her very much pregnant belly while his head rested on Y/N's covered shoulder, kissing the area gently.

"Hi, mama. You look so beautiful today." Matt's voice was low and husky. Y/N felt her face heat up, as if this wasn't the tenth time he'd said that to her that day alone.

The effects that his pregnant wife had on Matt were enormous, he felt his legs getting weak and his heart racing every time he looked at her, besides the arousal, which had increased at least twice as much. Y/N joked that he was worse than her when it came to hormones, and she was the one carrying his second baby.

"I need you to go to the market for me, please. We're out of tomatoes and peppers, and I'm going to use them in the vegetable gratin I'm making." Y/N asked, smiling sideways with Matt's hot breath so close to her as kisses were planted on her shoulder.

"Okay, I'm going to the grocery store around the corner." He informed, earning a nod from Y/N.

Matt and Y/N lived in a house situated in a very homely neighborhood, which had everything nearby: grocery store, butcher's shop, school, pharmacy, etc., which made the couple's day-to-day life easier, reducing the need for use as much car as they needed when they lived in downtown LA.

"Daddy, where are you going?" Eloise asked, raising her big blue eyes, which were now looking intently at her father who was about to walk through the kitchen door with their house keys and his wallet in hand, which he took from the counter.

"Daddy's going to the market, baby." Matt turned around, giving his daughter his full attention as he answered her.

"I want to come along! Mommy, can I go with daddy, please?" The little girl asked, getting up carefully so as not to fall - as had happened several times before because of her haste -, standing on top of her carpet and looking at her mother, her little hands holding the skirt of her pink dress with white ruffles.

Y/N turned to her daughter, pressing her lips in a thin line when she saw the girl's expression, eyes wide and lips in a pout, holding herself back from laughing at the similarity between her and her husband.

"Okay, you can go. But promise me you will be a good girl and listen and obey your father, remember what mommy taught you." Y/N spoke with a soft expression on her face, but serious voice. "And when you come back, be prepared to put away your toys, missy."

Eloise nodded her head repeatedly, smiling big and taking careful steps off the carpet, afraid of steping on her toys. Seeing that she was out of reach of the barbies and pans, she quickly walked towards her father, raising her arms and waiting to be picked up.

Matt, who observed the interaction between his wife and daughter, smiled a smile identical to Eloise's, bending down and picking her up with ease, arranging his arms so that the skirt of his daughter's dress was straight and wouldn't ride up with her movements.

"Her shoes are next to the door. Go carefully, I love you." Y/N spoke from the kitchen, turning her attention to the sink in front of her with a soft smile on her face after hearing her husband and daughter shouting "I love you" back.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"Come on honey, give your hand to daddy." Matt asked after passing the market entrance, placing Eloise on the floor and taking her small hand, which seemed even smaller when compared to his own. "Let's see what your mom needs."

Matt fished his phone out of his jeans pocket and opened the messaging app, clicking straight to chat with his wife and reading the small list she sent.

The man decided that a basket would be enough, opting not to take a cart. Two of his hands were busy with his daughter and the basket, something he had already gotten used to after repeating this same routine since Eloise learned to walk.

Eloise loved accompanying her father in everything he did, seeing him as her inspiration.

Matt still worked on YouTube with his brothers - of course with fewer videos, since each one had their own family and personal life; but Eloise always made a point of accompanying her father on filming, even though she never appeared in the videos, her baby voice and loud laughs always sounded in the background of each of them.

When Matt was playing video games, Eloise would sit on his lap and watch her father type quickly, often falling asleep even with the loud sounds coming from his headphones.

Even when her father went out with his friends and brothers to play lacrosse or hockey, Eloise begged to accompany him, always being spoiled by the adults and cheering loudly for her father.

Eloise was a true daddy's girl.

"Daddy, can I get some ice cream?" The little girl asked as they passed the ice cream fridge. A big smile graced her face, showing her gums with some missing teeth.

Matt paused for a few seconds, knowing that if Y/N found out that Eloise ate something sweet before lunch, she would fight him. But who said he would be able to resist his daughter's smile and her big blue eyes?

"Alright, dove, but you have to promise to keep it a secret between the two of us." The man asked, crouching down to Eloise's height, raising his pinkie.

And that brings us to the current moment, with Matt already in the checkout line, the basket in his left hand, and Eloise at his right side, holding the ice cream with both hands and a smile still on her face, waiting patiently to being able to eat her treat.

After paying for all the items, Matt thanked the cashier and balanced the bags in his arms, taking his daughter's hand and leaving the store.

On the way home, Eloise squeezed Matt's index finger hard - with her little strength -, getting his attention. The man stopped his steps, looking at Eloise, who was already looking at him with pleading eyes.

"Yes, honey?" He asked, waiting for his daughter to verbalize what she wanted, just like he and Y/N taught her.

"Daddy, I want my ice cream. Please." The little girl asked, remembering to add the magic word at the end.

Matt smiled softly, bending down again and opening one of the bags, keeping Eloise close to him. His right hand reached through the vegetables, pulling out the ice cream covered in pink plastic.

Eloise raised her hands, waiting for her father to give her the treat, but the man lowered her little hands with his left one.

"Let daddy open it first." He spoke, using his two hands to open the plastic, being careful not to tear it, arranging it so that the ice cream melted only inside the packaging, avoiding a bigger mess.

"Here, baby. Hold it with both hands and eat it carefully." Matt asked, handing her the wrapped ice cream and arranging her smaller hands so she could hold it properly.

The man straightened up, arranging all the bags in his right hand and placing his left hand on his daughter's shoulder, keeping her close to him, guiding her carefully so she didn't trip over something or hit somewhere, her eyes too entertained by the pink treat in front of her.

Unfortunately, the promise made between father and daughter did not prevail, Y/N having discovered the treat due to Eloise's hands and mouth being covered in a sticky pink substance and a larger than normal smile adorning her face.

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cressidagrey · 6 months ago

Text

The Ties that Bind - Chapter 3

Summary:

Shadowsingers were made, not born. Made out of trauma and loneliness and desperation.

So when Cilla and Azriel meet and their shadows entwine, they both meet the only other person that could understand these particular childhood scars.

The last thing Azriel had ever expected from his mate, however, was for her to have a surprising connection to his brother.

Warnings:

Mentions of Child Abuse and Neglect, Mention of imprisonment, Mention of Hybern's attack on Velaris and death resulting from that

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

She was trembling. Even with blankets wrapped around her. Even while burrowed as close to him as she could get.

Azriel traced her features, with his fingertips—every single, perfect inch of her.

These strong arched eyebrows, her nose, just so upturned at the tip… her full lips, near heart-shaped in the centre.… beautiful pointed ears, the long, black curly hair that had been held back in a braid that was falling apart…he took it apart in the end, Cilla pressing against his hand like a cat.

She was beautiful.

Beautiful and utterly exhausted.

And then he was ripped from his thoughts by the smell of burning chicken and he cursed.

“Cauldron Boil Me,” he spat out as he needed to pull himself from his mate to make sure that he didn’t accidentally burn down the whole house.

Cilla flinched and he hated that he had been the cause of that, that he needed to pull himself from her, throw on a pair of lounging trousers the shadows happily handed him, and look after his pot of soup with the shadows already pulling it from the burner.

“What…?” Cilla asked him, her voice quiet and he sighed, running one hand through his hair.

“Soup. I was making you soup,” Azriel explained with a sigh. “You need to eat.”

More water in the pot, chicken out of it…he would need to take that apart, pull the flesh from the bones, something he went straight to just a moment later.

“I am not hungry,” Cilla said softly at that moment.

For just a moment he closed his eyes. Of course, she wasn’t. She was so thin that she was used to starving herself. Hunger pans probably didn’t even register to her anymore.

They just were.

“I know. But you still need to eat,” he said evenly. Keeping that anger out of her voice. Not anger at her but for her. She needed to eat.

He probably had not helped with keeping up her strength. Not when… the possibility had not even registered in his mind…that she was a virgin. That she had no fucking idea what she had even started when she had held out that cracker for him to take.

He had just taken it. So over the moon that he had found his mate that nothing else had mattered.

Now…now he wondered what her reason for giving him that cracker even was. Was it fear? Some kind of feeling that she needed to keep him content and happy because if he got angry she would be at the receiving end of it?

It curdled in his stomach.

He heard Cilla’s quiet footsteps and then she was behind him, burying her head between his shoulder blades, his wings trembling at that intimate touch.

She was searching out his presence, body pressing against his. Somehow she derived some form of comfort from it. Maybe he hadn't fucked up completely.

“But I want you,” she mumbled into his skin. It was definitely unhelpful, mating frenzy fighting with instincts and his own fucking mind, because he didn’t know if this was even a good idea at all.

He should have waited. He should have...He shouldn't have just taken her like he had...He should have taken his time...given her time...but he hadn't.

He was already regretting it.

Not regretting her. Never regretting her. She was a cauldron-given gift to him. But maybe it would have been better to take it slower, to...give her the opportunity to back out, to...

“After you have eaten, Sweetheart,” Azriel finally settled on gently. Maybe. Maybe after he had gotten some food inside her, after they had talked. “You are supposed to rest.”

“I am fine,” she disagreed with him quietly, but stepped back, instead settling next to him, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“You were nearly frozen solid when I fished you out of that lake,” he pointed out reasonably, as he looked over her.

Cilla had found a blanket to wrap up in. Thank the cauldron for small mercies, because Azriel was not quite sure if he would be able to withstand her naked and bare to his gaze.

Though if he just stared at her skinny and knobby shoulder poking out from her blanket cocoon…it was more likely. When was the last time she had eaten at all?

Go find her some clothing, he demanded from his shadows.

From where? they responded nearly immediately.

How about you have her shadows tell you where she lives? Azriel suggested. Some more intelligence, more information.... He could use that.

He poured half a package of noodles into that pot after adding the chicken back in, put the lid back on…and then turned to Cilla, who was watching him, a soft expression on her face.

Azriel failed horribly with keeping his hands off her when he lifted her up on the counter, only so that he could kiss her gently, without her straining her neck.

She kissed him back enthusiastically, hands burying themselves in his hair. Azriel did leave it at that. He crowded close to her so that she could feel his body warmth and cling tightly to him, but that was it. Nothing more.

Food then Talk and then...then he could worry about it.

Until then, he kissed her, gently, chastly, making her laugh as he pressed kisses against her cheeks and her forehead and every inch of hers that he could reach.

Until enough time had passed for him to step back, spoon some of that soup into a bowl, and hand it to her.

Some long-buried instinct in him was soothed by this. Soothed by having provided for his mate. “Eat, Sweetheart,” Azriel told her gently.

Cilla ate. If one could call it that…and didn’t call it shovelling food into her mouth as quickly as possible.

He should have recognised the signs before. He should have fucking stopped to think for just a moment.

Stopped and thought about what it meant that she was a Shadowsinger like he was. But he hadn’t.

Now it was starkly at the forefront of his mind.

Azriel caught her hand. “Don’t burn yourself,” he said quietly. “I am not going to take your food from you. There is more if you want more later. Take your time.”

Her skin turned red and she looked everywhere but him.

“I am sorry.” The way she said that hesitant and broken, made something inside him shatter.

“Eat. Slowly,” he insisted quietly.

Master.

What’s with her apartment? he asked immediately, not liking the tone of their voice at all. He spooned soup in another bowl for himself, forcing himself to eat.

It’s near Lady Death’s old apartment. The bad part of town, the shadows answer quietly.

And?

She owns one other dress and one can of tomatoes, Master.

He worked hard to keep his face devoid of emotions as he watched Cilla finish her soup out of the corner of his eye, holding out his hand for her to hand it over so that he could refill it.

This was even worse than he had thought it would be, wasn’t it?

She went to demolish that bowl as well.

Furniture?

A bedroll.

Anything else? He demanded. There must be something else. Anything.

A note from her landlord that her rent is due tomorrow and that she owes him 6 gold coins or she can earn it on her knees, the shadows hissed in response.

Right.

Show her shadows how to play the lottery, he told them calmly, fury bubbling away underneath the surface. And bring that one dress and her can of tomatoes here.

He saw how a shadow suddenly started dancing around Cilla, her eyebrows narrowing.

“Your shadows play the lottery?” she asked him, sounding adorably confused and he bit back his amusement.

“They do,” he answered with a sigh. “It’s their hobby of sorts. I am surprised that yours haven’t yet figured out how to get money on their own.”

She grimaced.

“Do I want to know?” he asked her drily and Cilla shrugged.

“They used to pickpocket sometimes,” she admitted quietly. “I made them stop.”

He imagined that the only reason the shadows had gone that far was to make sure that Cilla didn’t outright starve.

Just one moment later, his shadows brought her that dress and that can of tomatoes, putting both on her lap, fluttering around, like they were waiting for her to either pet him or thank them for a job well done.

She didn't flinch away from them, instead, staring on the dress. A drab blue colour, threadbare in some places, mended in others.

“That’s my dress. You had your shadows get it?” She questioned him, eyebrows furrowing again and he nodded.

“I did,” azriel agreed. “So you had something to wear if you wanted to.” She seemed to take that at face value.

“And the can of tomatoes?” she asked him curiously.

“They said that’s all you owned,” he said carefully. Cilla just shrugged.

Like that was normal. Like she had never thought twice about the fact that she had two dresses, a pair of shoes and a can of tomatoes to her name.

“My bag is still lying around outside,” she said, like that somehow made it all better.

It made Azriel want to kill somebody.

“Tell me about your job,” he said instead because he needed to know what exactly she did for a living that resulted in this.

“My job?” She asked him surprised. “I work in a tannery. I don’t really get along with some of the potions we use, that’s where these come from,” she explained holding up her hand, that red scratchy skin.

“How much money does that make?” He asked as he gently took her hand in his, looking at the scarpes in more detail.

Her skin was red and inflamed, dry and cracked. It must hurt, but she seemed content to just ignore that.

“8 gold coins a month,” Cilla answered.

Which meant she had 2 gold coins each month, that didn't go to her rent, to feed herself, to clothe herself, to buy herself anything she needed.

It wasn’t fucking enough. He had no clue how she even survived on that.

Especially when even the minimum wage in Velaris would supposedly make sure that she would make at least 15 a month if she worked a full-time job.

“How much time off?” He asked, wondering how bad it could get.

“A half-day each month.”

It wasn’t even a conscious thought when he told his shadows to get him the names of both her landlord and her employer.

His anger must have shown on his face because suddenly her scent soured with fear.

“I am sorry,” she apologised but he shook his head.

“I am not angry with you, sweetheart,” Azriel assured her immediately. “I am fucking furious with both your landlord and your employer though.”

“I need that job,” Cilla told him, biting her lip, desperation bleeding into her voice.

“The minimal wage you are legally allowed to be paid in Velaris is 15 gold coins a month. You worked for half of that," he told her, forcing his voice to be even.

“I need that job!” Cilla repeated sharply. “I can’t read, I cannot write. I have no trade. What else was I supposed to do?” she demanded.

That desperation in her voice was not helping with his fury. She had done what needed to be done. Cilla should have never even fucking been in that situation.

“Then I’ll teach you,” Azriel said, his voice forcedly calm. He could teach her to read and to write. “And we figure out whatever you want to be.”

Anything was better than this.

Cilla stared at the floor, not looking at him.

He reached out to cup her cheek gently.

“Look at me,” he said softly. And she did. Dark brown eyes were filled with tears and he pressed a kiss against her forehead.

“You are my mate,” Azriel said quietly.

“That means that I will always take care of you. You could tell me you never want to see me again and I would still make sure that you have a safe place to stay. That you have enough food not to starve,” he told her fiercely.

She stared at him like she didn’t quite see him, like she couldn’t believe the words that left his mouth.

“You’ll find another job. Preferably something where you don’t spend your days doing back-breaking labour for not enough money to even feed yourself properly.” Literally, anything was better than that.

“You will never need to worry about food again,” he promised her. “You can do whatever you want with your life.“

Even if that didn’t include him. He wanted her happy. Nothing else.

“That apartment… There is no universe in existence in which that is a place for my mate,” he continued. “You’ll stay right here. At least for a little while…For the next few weeks or so. And then we can find you another apartment if you want to. Preferably something that’s not a downtrodden hovel.”

He watched her swallow, watched one tear trickle down her cheek that he wiped away carefully.

“I don’t need much,” Cilla told him softly.

“A warm, safe and dry place is not much. That is the bare minimum,” he gave back immediately. That was the least everybody should have.

And it had taken him years to realise that even he deserved it, but he was not going to have his mate stay somewhere like that if he had any choice in that matter.

Still, as she leaned into his hands, she looked so impossibly young for just a moment, that his heart constricted.

“How old are you, Cilla?” he asked her gently and she shrugged.

“I don’t know,” she answered, her voice nearly listless. “20 maybe? 21? Could be a few years older though?”

“You…don’t know.” He repeated unbelieving. Gods, she was still half a girl. A girl with clearly nobody that took care of her, and a lack of knowledge about her own age. Even Azriel knew his damn birthday!

“Why don’t you know?” he asked her, forcing himself to be calm.

“I…I didn’t really have a normal childhood,” Cilla admitted quietly, pulling back from him slightly. “I…I was…My mother was high fae. My father must have been the one with the wings,” she said with a shrug. “I killed her. When I was born. My wings sliced her open from the inside out.”

She said that so matter-of-factly. Like she knew that this had been her fault and her fault alone.

He swallowed. Hating how familiar these words sounded. That’s what had been their worry with Feyre and Nyx. Just that Cilla didn’t have a Nesta that had saved her mother. And instead gave herself clearly the fault for her mother’s death.

Her wings trembled, caving in around her like she couldn’t bear to lift them up when she talked about it.

“My grandmother raised me afterwards,” Cilla continued, her voice cracking.

She didn’t need to say more. He understood.

“She gave you the fault for her daughter's death,” he ended her sentence. She just shrugged. Again.

“It was my fault,” Cilla agreed.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Azriel cut her off, sharply.

“Yes, it was my fault. If she hadn’t had me, she would still be alive. I murdered her,” Cilla disagreed fiercely. “My fault. I should have never been born,” she spat out these words, and he just knew that these weren’t her words. It were the words that she had heard so often until she had started to believe them.

“I am so sorry, Sweetheart,” he apologised.

“I lived in the attic. I wasn’t allowed out,” Cilla continued. “The shadows kept me company.”

She didn’t talk about the scars on her wings. Didn’t say how her grandmother had treated her…but Azriel could fill in the gaps.

“How did you get out?” he asked her.

“When Hybern attacked the city…the house got reduced to rubble. My grandmother died. The shadows dug me out,” Cilla said softly. So 2 years. She had been out of that attic for 2 years. And imprisoned for 18. No wonder she behaved…strangely sometimes. She never really had…any socialisation, any family, any friends...for so long.

It was a miracle she wasn’t completely feral. He had been when he had finally gotten out of that cell…he had been…barely…a person. And it had only been 11 years for him.

“Fuck, Sweetheart,” he cursed.

“When did yours come to you?” She asked him, biting her lip, changing the topic and he figured that he owed her the truth just as she had given him.

“I was 8,“ Azriel answered quietly. “My father was a lord in an Illyrian war camp. My mother was his long-suffering mistress. I wasn’t supposed to exist. His wife agreed. They took me from my mother when I was a baby…You got locked into an attic. I got locked in a cell underneath his keep. Only taken out the bare minimum,“ he recounted.

These days…it no longer hurt him. Not really. It was just…something that he had accepted had happened to him long, long ago. Not the most traumatising thing he had gone through either. He still didn't like the feeling of being caged, of darkness...but he could stand it if need be.

“When I was 8…my half brothers decided to see what would happen if oil and fire mixed,” he continued, lifting his other hand and holding it out for Cilla’s perusal. “These were the results.”

She reached out to touch, her small hand wrapping around his and intertwined their fingers.

“I am sorry,“ Cilla whispered but Azriel shook his head.

“It was a very, very long time ago, Cilla. Over 500 years,“ he told her. Centuries. He should be well over it by now.

But he wasn’t. He probably never would. Not completely.

“You didn’t deserve that,” she insisted and a small smile lifted up his lips at that.

“Neither did you.”

“I killed her,” Cilla disagreed.

“I killed people too. And I wasn’t a babe when I did it,” Azriel said drily. “I did it on purpose, Cilla. Hundreds of times. Sometimes in a war as a warrior, sometimes for this court, for our High Lord…I have killed, Sweetheart.”

She stared at him wide-eyed, and he half expected her to flinch away in disgust.

Finally, she just shook her head. “That’s not the same,“ she whispered.

He just pressed a kiss against her forehead in response.

Only then did he feel the heat from her forehead that made him pull back. Her eyes were glassy and he pressed his hand against her forehead.

“You’re running a fever, Sweetheart,” he realised with a sigh. Her bath in an ice-cold mountain lake had probably resulted in this.

“I am fine,” Cilla mumbled, leaning against his hands. He just sighed.

“Let’s go to bed. You need to rest.”

She just hummed, glomping onto him and he lifted her up easily, putting her back underneath all the blankets, and sliding in right next to her.

“Just sleep,” he told her softly, though she didn’t seem to even need that.

At least that Mating Frenzy had abated, replaced with worry for her, because if she got sicker than a simple fever, there wasn’t much she could put against it. No fat she could pull energy from, no weight she could stand lose in the process.

Right now, all Azriel could do, was to watch over her.

He watched as her wings relaxed and her face slackened…as she curled up next to him.

He breathed in her scent, his nose tucked against her neck.

If he took the proper time to parse her scent, he could pick himself up. Cedars and that fresh, watery scent of mist…and underneath that, her.

Warm and still fresh, like a hearth on a dark winter day…underneath it all vanilla and over it, snow-chilled wind and crackling embers.

Wait, what?

He took another deep breath of his mate, her scent so similar to another that he had smelled day in and day out, again and again over 5 centuries.

No.

No, this couldn’t be.

He stared at his mate, deep asleep…took in these strong eyebrows, her cheekbones…the shape of her face…

She must have inherited her mother's eyes, though the shape…

Her mother’s nose and lips definitely…but her hair…

Her hair and the shape of her face and the shape of her eyes…and these wings…

There were near invisible differences of these wings from Illyrian to Illyrian…differences in their shapes and the colours…Rhys had always had the darkest.

Azriel’s own had a near-purple tint of the sun shining through them…but Cassian‘s… Cassian's wings had always been a near-black dark brown…reddish in the light of the sun.

And a near-perfect replica was stretched out from his mate's back right now.

How many Illyrians were there in Velaris 20 years ago….

He only knew two. One of them was Azriel himself.

And the other…

Fuck.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #the ties that bind

281 notes · View notes

pandorxxx · 2 years ago

Text

Fetch

Neteyam x Metkayina fem reader x lo’ak (all characters aged up)

Warning: cursing, p in v, oral, praise link, degrading kink, daddy kink, choke kink, spit kink, Auralism, dom-lo’ak, soft dom- Neteyam (He’s whimpering in this one), creampie, squirting, multiple orgasms, fingering, throat bulge, reader is filthy in this one, a lot of dirty talk. (Lmk if I miss anything)

Synopsis: when Tsireya leaves you in the forest without any clothes, it’s your job to find your way back home in hopes that no one will see you. However, that idea doesn’t go as planned.

🔞mdni🔞

“I swear to eywa, I’m going to kill that girl when i get back.” You mumbled, walking through the forest…soaking wet and naked. Tsireya decided to pay you back for taking her clothes when you dared her to go skinny dipping a few weeks ago, so she decided to return the favor this time. As sisters, you two joked and played around a lot, and it tended to go alittle too far sometimes.

You shivered from the night breeze, covering your chest as you walked through the forest with a quickness. It was after eclipse, so you were hoping no one saw you. It was usually very quiet around this time.

“Bro this is all your fault. Now we’re fucking lost.” You heard in the distance, completely stopping in your tracks. “What? This is Your fault! We wouldn’t even be out here if it wasn’t for you!” A deeper, heavier voice growled, coming close with each footstep. Your eyes widened, scurrying behind a nearby bush, making the most noise possible.

“Fuck was that?” Lo’ak whispered, pulling his knife out of the casing. “This way.” Neteyam nudged his head, grabbing his bow from around his chest, loading it up. The footsteps got louder, and all you could do was hold your breath and shut your eyes tightly, praying that they would walk away.

Seeing as your trembling shook the shrub you were hiding behind, it wasn’t hard to find you. Neteyam raised his bow, pointing it in the shrubs direction.

“Come out now.” Lo’ak growled, knife in hand. “Don’t make this hard.” Neteyam spoke, pulling his bow back. You internally cursed, heart beating out of your chest.

“I-it’s me! Y/n!” You shouted in a frightened tone. Still hiding behind the shrub. Neteyam immediately put the bow down, wrapping it around his body again. Lo’ak followed, slowly placing the knife back in its casing.

“Y/n? What are you doing out here so late?” Neteyam started. “And by yourself?” Lo’ak finished the thought. You could hear the footsteps getting closer and you panicked.

“NO! Don’t come any closer, please!” You pleaded, sticking your head out the side of the shrub. Your curly hair was soaking wet and you looked as stressed as you actually were. They both stopped in their tracks, glancing at each other before looking back at you.

“Bro, what the fuck are you doing? And why is your hair wet?” Lo’ak asked In a frustrated tone. Neteyam crossed his arms around his chest, a confused look plastered across his face as he awaited an explanation from you.

“My stupid sister! She dared me to go skinny dipping and then took my clothing.” You explained, and the brothers immediately erupted in laughter.

“Ha ha, very fucking funny.” You said sarcastically as you watched them laugh in your face. “Wait so- Tsireya left you here?” Neteyam laughed, regaining his breath.

“Yes, skxawng! And I’m cold as shit!” You shouted, rubbing your shoulders to create some heat. “And…you’re naked right now?” Lo’ak chuckled, trying to look over the shrub to get a peek.

“You’re such a perv! I need to get back! Help me, please?” You pleaded, shooting them a fake smile. “What the fuck are we supposed to do?” Lo’ak chuckled, gesturing in confusion. You sighed, there really wasn’t much they could do. You looked around for a few seconds before darting your eyes to Neteyam. A brown shawl tied around his neck, hanging behind his back.

“Give me the shawl!” You shouted in excitement, holding your hand out for it. Neteyam went to untie it before lo’ak stopped him. Neteyam and Lo’ak devised a plan through eye contact, smiling at eachother all-knowingly before staring back at you.

“Say please.” Lo’ak grinned. His gaze altered in seconds. It was cold, hard, and full of lust. You hissed at him as a way of disobeying his command. Without saying a word, they both snickered before turning around to walk away. You rolled your eyes in frustration, putting your pride aside.

“Fuck! PLEASE!” You shouted, making them turn back around to face you. “I love a girl with manners.” Neteyam muttered, untying the shawl from around his shoulders, handing it to lo’ak. Lo’ak proceeded to throw it a few inches in front of him before crossing his arms.

“Fetch.” Lo’ak spoke lowly, shooting you a devilish smirk as Neteyam snickered in the background. You were furious, heart rate increasing from rage. Your face balled up in anger, glaring at both of the boys.

“You know what?” You muttered in anger, standing to your full height, revealing your full breasts and slim waist. You stomped over to them, now revealing your full hips and long legs. Neteyam and lo’ak eyed your small frame with slight smirks. “Fuck both of you! Keep the stupid shawl! I’m LEA-VING!” You hissed, poking both of them in the chest. You spun around harshly, causing your hair to hit their chests before you attempted to walk away. You felt a tug on your tail, causing you to yelp in pain and hault in your tracks.

Neteyam took his place infront of you, towering over your little frame. “Move out the fucking way.” You spat, glaring up at him. You felt a hard tug to your tail again, causing you to whimper. “Watch your mouth.” Lo’ak growled from behind you.

Without a single word, neteyam started at your neck, letting his fingertips graze past your damp skin. Your breathing hitched, and your heart rate sped up. You watched his hand run all the way down your chest to your full breast. He rolled your hard nipple between his fingers before sending it a firm smack. The sensitivity making you whimper in pain.

“Shut up, or so help me God-“ he muttered, holding you steady by your neck. “Not a sound.” He growled, shaking your neck with every word. You nodded hastily. A pool of your own essence running down your legs.

“That took no time at all. Huh?” Lo’ak spoke in his melodic tone, pulling you flush to his chest by your tail. He pushed his hips into your backside, just so you could feel his growing bulge. He ran his hand down your stomach until he reached your dripping cunt. You gasped loudly when you felt his fingers part you open, using his middle and ring finger to rub slow circles into your clit. You let out a guttural moan, throwing your head back on his chest. Neteyam watched you intently, stepping alittle closer to peck your agape lips.

“Are you gonna be a good girl? Huh?” He asked, smacking your breast for a second time before he pecked your lips again. Your body jumped from the impact, moaning loudly into the kiss.

“I-I’ll be a good girl. I promise.” You whimpered breathily, feeling your peek already nearing. Lo’ak leaned down to kiss your neck, leaving the biggest hickeys possible. Your legs started to tremble, small droplets of your essence falling down your thighs.

“Mhm, show me what this pussy can do. I know you’re close.” Lo’ak whispered in your ear, speeding up the pace on your sensitive clit. “Cum for us, baby.” Neteyam whispered in your other ear. Both brothers coaching you though your orgasm was enough for you to release. “I-I’m cumming!” You whimpered, nodding your head at Neteyam as he pecked your lips once more, playing with your abused nipple before smacking it again.

“Give it to me, come on! I know you can.” Lo’ak grunted, sucking on your neck. Just like that, you squirted all over neteyam’s lower abdomen. A whining and moaning mess as lo’ak started to tap your clit, making your orgasm more intense. “OH MY- YESSSS!” You screamed, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you slid down to the ground slowly, Lo’ak following you to the ground as well. You two were on your knees as he kept his pace on your sensitive clit, making your body jolt uncontrollably.

“Lo’aaaaaak please!” You screamed, the pleasure becoming too much for you. “One more time, baby. I wanna see this pussy squirt for me one more time, ok?” He explained in your ear, giving it a small peck before swiping your clit from side to side quickly. Your jaw dropped, moans getting caught in your throat as all 3 of you listened to the squelching sounds of your dripping cunt. You grabbed lo’aks wrist, holding onto it for dear life as you felt your second orgasm approaching you.

You glanced up at Neteyam. His loincloth was around his ankles as he jerked off to your sweet sounds, glaring at you with nothing but lust. “Nete- please.” You pleaded, hoping that he would stop lo’ak from sending you an unbearable amount of pleasure. “Not until you squirt again.” He moaned, smearing the precum around his throbbing tip.

“Fuuuck!” You moaned, throwing your head back onto lo’aks chest. “That’s right, just fucking take it. Be a good girl.” Lo’ak groaned, tapping your clit repeatedly, completely sending you over the edge.

“Ohhhh shit!” You squealed, squirting for a second time. Neteyam quickly kneeled infront of you, letting his cock get sprayed with your essence as he sped up his pace. “Mmm, such a good girl.” Neteyam moaned, looking down at his soaking wet cock as he jerked it quickly.

“There you go, baby.” Lo’ak chuckled, pecking your abused neck as he slowed down on your clit. He Finally let you go, backing away from you and you immediately fell forward. Lo’ak licked his fingers clean, humming at your sweetness.

You groaned in exhaustion, lazily sitting up to be met with Neteyam, jerking his cock in your direction. “We’re not done yet. I want this big mouth of yours wrapped around my cock.” He growled, gripping your hair tightly.

“And I wanna stretch this pussy out.” Lo’ak growled from behind you, sending a hard smack to your ass. Neteyam laid down infront of you, signaling for you to come closer with his finger. You lazily crawl in between his legs until you were eye to eye with his pelvis. His hard cock throbbing with every heartbeat.

Lo’ak untied his loincloth before crawling up behind you, grabbing your hips to bring you flush to his pelvis. His cock sliding in between your wet folds made you let out a few soft moans for him.

“You see the mess you made?” Neteyam growled, referring to his dripping cock. “Suck me clean, now.” He commanded, throwing his hands behind his head, waiting for you to follow his orders. You nodded quickly before grabbing his cock, flicking your warm tongue along his tip, making his hips buck ever so slightly. After a few kitten licks, you decided to wrap your lips around his tip, sucking the precum out of him. “Shiiiiiitttt.” He moaned, throwing his head back as his face screwed in pleasure. Your eyes rolled back when you felt lo’ak probing at your aching hole. Sliding the tip in and out slowly, teasing you. Before you knew it, he slammed into you, making you hum on Neteyam.

“Feel that, baby?” Lo’ak moaned, biting his lip as he started to pound into you. You let out staggered moans on neteyams cock before you began to bob your head up and down his entire shaft. “Holy shit, y/n.” He groaned, grabbing your hair into a ponytail as you went to work on him. You looked into his eyes as you shook your head from side to side on him. He chewed on his bottom lip, trying to suppress his moans as he felt your throat contracting around his length.

“Mmmmm!” You hummed, eyes rolling to the back of your head again as lo’ak slammed against your sweet spot with every thrust. You clenched around him repeatedly, on purpose. You wanted to hear him moan just like Neteyam.

“Goddamn, s-stop that shit! That’s a sure way to make me cum in this pussy.” He moaned, shifting his hips up to jam into your sweetspot repeatedly. You went cross eyed from the pleasure, pulling off of Neteyam to let out the nastiest moan for him. You gripped neteyams cock, spitting on it before pumping him quickly. Spit dripping from your chin down your chest.

“Keep fucking me juuuust like that. Don’t *thrust* fucking *thrust* stoooop!!” You whined through a clenched jaw, looking back at a focused lo’ak. Beads of sweat forming on his forehead and chest. His lip tucked between his teeth as he watched your ass smack against his pelvis with every hard stroke.

“Such a naaaasty girl, aren’t you?” Lo’ak growled, stopping his movements just to let his spit fall in between your cheeks before slamming back into you. You hummed, smiling deliriously before turning your attention back to Neteyam. He was a wiggling/whimpering mess under you. You pumped him hard before pecking his throbbing tip. Your hands were quickly replaced by your mouth, bobbing your head on his length. His hips spazzed uncontrollably, thrusting into your mouth.

“Fuck! fuck! fuck! You do it so damn good, baby.” He moaned, shifting his hands to the back of your head, guiding you the way he wanted to. His eyes rolled back, jaw dropped, and head thrown back. Without warning, he came deep down your throat. So deep that his seed trickled down to your stomach without you even swallowing.

“Fuuuck yes!” He growled, watching you slowly slide off of his shaft, collecting all of his seed on the way up, making a loud popping sound when you detached from him. You spit his cum all over his cock before going in to lick it clean again, all while maintaining dangerous eye contact with him.

“You are fucking disgusting, you know that? Hmm?” He moaned through a clenched jaw, watching you suck him dry.

“Never knew you were such a filthy slut. I would’ve fucked your sooner.” Lo’ak chuckled, pounding into you to chase his orgasm. The loud clapping sounds and your sweet voice began to consume him. You detached from Neteyam, taking his hard cock in your hand to pump him firmly.

“Mmm! Stretching me s-soooo good, baby!” You whimpered, voice rippling from the hard thrusts. “You’re so fucking big lo’ak!” You moaned, eyes crossing in pleasure.

“Fuuuck, keep talking to me baby. Tell me how good it is.” He moaned, smacking your ass a few times, leaving handprints all across you. “I-I love this dick so much, daddy. Pleaseee! Im so fucking close!” You cried, placing your hands on either side of neteyam’s hips.

“Ohhh cum on daddy’s dick then. Show me how much you love it!” He groaned, throwing his head back as his lower abdomen tightened.

Neteyam grabbed his cock, immediately thrusting into his hand, coaxing loud squelching sounds from all of your spit and his seed combined. It was music to your ears, he whimpered loudly, watching your breasts jump from each thrust lo’ak sent you.

“I-I’m gonna cum!” You nodded, face scrunched up in pleasure as you watched Neteyam. You both locked eyes, and he immediately sped up. “S-So am I, baby. Just keep looking at me like that, don’t stop, ok?” Neteyam moaned breathily, his stomach muscles tensing as his legs began to shake.

“Mhm!” You whined, lip between your teeth as your body started to shake violently. “Shiiit! I’m right behind you baby! I’m right there! I’m right there!” Lo’ak whimpered, throwing his head back. His eyes rolled in pleasure, whining loudly as you clenched around him.

“Yesss! Oh My God!” You screeched, letting your essence coat lo’aks cock. Creating loud squelching sounds with every sloppy thrust.

Your sweet sounds sent Neteyam over the edge, and his seed shot up and onto his stomach with a couple of loud moans.

“Mmm, here it comes baby.” Lo’ak whined, thrusting into you one last time before filling you with his cum. You smiled deliriously, feeling his hot, sticky seed trickle into your womb.

You took this time to lick neteyams stomach clean, slurping his seed up before swallowing it. “Are you gonna let me fuck you, too? Hmm?” Neteyam smirked.

“Yeah, Don’t leave my brother hanging. Let him try this pussy out.” Lo’ak snickered, pulling out of you before he smacked your ass. You giggled, shifting around to straddle neteyam’s lap backwards. You held onto his knees before sliding down on him slowly. “This pussy’s so fucking tight.” Neteyam groaned, smacking your already bruised ass. You moaned at his words, bouncing on his lap quickly.

Lo’ak stood infront of you, brushing the tip of his dripping cock across your puffy lips. “Look at you, making such a fucking mess all the time. Do me a favor and suck me clean.” He smirked down at you. You opened your mouth, immediately taking him down your throat as you maintained lustful eye contact.

“Mhm, juuuust like that. Don’t fucking stop.” Lo’ak growled, holding your hair in a tight ponytail, using it as leverage to buck his hips into you. Meanwhile, neteyam watched your ass bounce up and down on his throbbing cock, sending him the most amount of pleasure. He grabbed your hips, bucking into you to meet your pace.

“Ah- a-ha! Fuuuck!” He moaned, eyes rolling in pleasure as he threw his head back. You moaned around lo’aks shaft, bobbing your head on him as you sucked him dry. You kept that eye contact with him the entire time, sending him spiraling.

“Keep looking at me like that, and I’m gonna cum down your throat sooner that expected.” He moaned, throwing his head back in completely bliss. You detached from him with a loud popping sound, making him shoot his attention back down to you. “Keep your eyes on me.” You spoke sensually, engulfing him in your mouth again. Choking and gagging on his length as lines of spit flowed down your chin.

“Mmm, as you wish baby.” He smirked, lip between his teeth as he watched you go to work on him. Rolling your tongue around his entire cock, making sure to give attention to every vein, every ridge. “So fucking nasty. Open your mouth.” He muttered through gritted teeth. You detached from him again, opening your mouth wide for him. He stuck his tongue out, letting his spit cascade down to his tip and into your mouth. And without question, you swallowed it quickly before taking him into your mouth again.

You hummed around lo’ak, eyes rolling back as Neteyam bucked his hips into you harshly, slamming against your abused sweetspot with every thrust.

“Baby, I’m so fucking close. Mmm, this pussy is so good!” Neteyam grunted, his thrusts becoming sloppy. You were close too, and he knew it. Your walls fluttered around his shaft and your moans were getting louder.

You spit lo’aks cock out of your mouth with a loud gasp, pumping him in your hand quickly. “Fuck, baby! You’re so big! This dick is sooo big!”

You whimpered, bouncing on him faster.

“Mmm, stretching this tight little pussy juuuuust right, huh? Feels good, baby?” Neteyam moaned, smacking your ass once more. His voice was low and sensual, turning you on more than you already had been.

“It feels s-so good. You’re gonna make me cum.” You whimpered, taking lo’ak into your mouth again. “Fuuuck! Cum on this dick then. Give it to me!” Neteyam growled, speeding up the pace for you.

“This mouth of yours is so filthy.” Lo’ak moaned, holding either side of your head to buck his hips quickly. He fucked your throat hard. So hard that a bulge emerged in your neck with each thrust.

“Look at that. Gonna make me cum down your throat!” Lo’ak grunted, his stomach tightened again. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” Lo’ak moaned before filling your throat with his seed. He bucked his hips into your mouth slowly, throwing his head back in pleasure. You gasped for air once he pulled out of you. Your eyes were watery and your mouth was soaked with your spit and his seed.

“Ohhhh fuck! Daddy I’m cumming!” You finally screamed, using neteyam’s legs as leveraged to bounce on him at a fast pace. Your body shook uncontrollably as you sprayed his lower abdomen with every thrust. “Yes baby. Squirt for daddy.” He moaned, watching your juices flow down the sides of his hips.

“Ohhh *thrust* My *thrust* God!” Neteyam moaned, his eyes rolling back as he filled you to the brim with his seed. You hummed, rolling your hips into his, causing his body to twitch in pleasure.

Lo’ak grabbed you by your neck, staring directly into your eyes. “You’re a good little slut for us, aren’t you?” He asked with a slight smirk, smacking your face a couple of times. You smiled deliriously, eyes low from exhaustion. “Mhmmm!” You giggled, lip between your teeth.

Neteyam slid from under you, shifting to his knees. “Bend her over.” Neteyam commanded, and lo’ak quickly pushed your cheek down into the ground beneath you, revealing your cum filled cunt to Neteyam. His seed leaking out, and down your thighs. He took two fingers, sliding them into your cunt, coaxing the wettest sound out of you. You moaned loudly, biting your lip. He slid his fingers out, admiring his slick covered hand. He stood to his feet, walking around to stand infront of you. Lo’ak let you go, taking his place next to his brother.

“Sit up.” Lo’ak spat. You obliged, sitting up on your knees infront of them. Neteyam caressed the back of your head, smearing his fingers across your lips. “Open.” He commanded and you followed. Opening your mouth to suck his fingers clean, swirling your tongue around and in between his fingers while you hummed lowly. You detached from his fingers before licking your lips.

“You are by far…the nastiest girl I’ve ever seen.” Lo’ak chuckled, bending down to grab the shawl, throwing it to you.

“You earned that.” Neteyam pointed at you. You rolled your eyes, throwing the shawl around your shoulders before standing to your full height.

“Whatever, can we go now?” You spat, pushing past the both of them as you walked away from the brothers.

“Oh wow.” Neteyam chuckled, grabbing his loincloth to tie it around his hips. “Don’t fucking start, you were just so sweet a few minutes ago.” Lo’ak snarled, tying his loincloth around his hips.

“Ohhh lo’ak! Its sooo big!” Lo’ak mocked, causing Neteyam to laugh out loud as they both trailed behind you.

“HUSH!” You hissed. Turning around to face them. You walked up alittle closer. “And NO ONE can know about this! Understand?” You commanded, shifting your eye contact between the both of them. They both chuckled before lo’ak grabbed you by the neck, pulling you closer to the both of them before speaking:

“Only if we can do it again…”

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cottonlemonade · 4 months ago

Text

Stargazing

word count: 972 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: Sakusa x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

request: watching Goosebumps with caramel popcorn while dressed as a shark with Sakusa || fluffy, camping with crush Sakusa

As summer drew to a close the newly graduated third years of the Itachiyama volleyball club, along with a select few classmate friends, decided to go spend a weekend outdoors - away from the city and the constant noise, away from the impending pressure of university, soaking up those last few pockets of warmth before fall took over and their days would undoubtedly be ruled by studying once more. However, after Sakusa‘s ice-cold glare at the word “camping”, it quickly turned to glamping.

The sun started to set when the shuttle rolled smoothly along the narrow road up to a small grouping of dome-shaped tents nestled neatly in a wide clearing on an otherwise densely vegetated hillside. Fall had already begun to dot the trees with golds and vermillion and although the weather was cooling down by the day, many visitors strolled across the lawn, playing badminton or throwing a frisbee accompanied by a lot of loud hollering and laughter, much to Sakusa’s dismay. One by one you hopped off the bus and looked around, taking deep breaths of the fresh mountain air. Mount Fuji, the bottom of which was surrounded by a cloud of gray mist, was clearly visible in the distance and its snowy top seemed to glow in the remaining sunlight.

Sleeping arrangements were somewhat quickly decided with only minor squabbling and the group headed to the nearby town center to grab fresh supplies for this night‘s BBQ.

While Komori was busy orchestrating the grilling, Sakusa beelined to the still empty showers to escape the incessant chatter of the group for a while. He let out a long sigh as the hot water ran down his back, massaging his shoulder. It still felt stiff after the last match. He replayed the game in his mind, every block, every spike, every failed attack. He cringed when he remembered how he messed up a serve because he heard you calling his name in encouragement through the crowd‘s cheers. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes for a moment, your voice still in his ears. You had stood with the reserves on the side of the court, the team jacket tied around your pudgy tummy, scribbling notes on your clipboard without looking at the paper so you didn’t miss anything. As the picture of your smile during the inevitable victory hug that followed became more vivid, he shut the water off.

When he rejoined the others, hair as curly as ever from the steam, they were already plating up.

“Hey captain, glad you could make it.”, Komori greeted him jokingly, “To be honest, we thought you might have called a taxi back to Tokyo.”

The group chuckled and his cousin nodded to the free seat next to you.

After dinner, it was voted that everyone would toss around a glow-in-the-dark volleyball that one of them bought just for the occasion. Sakusa didn’t feel the need to join and when he spotted you sitting outside your tent wrapped in a blanket he decided to push his bedtime back a little.

“Not in the mood?”, he asked, standing a bit awkwardly with his hands in his pockets in front of the wooden deck the tent was on.

“More so that I can trip on a well-lit court just fine. Invisible divots in the meadow would only make it worse.”

He nodded.

“Good point.”

“Hey!”, you laughed.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Uhm, no go ahead.”, you scooched over on the picnic blanket you had laid out and he sat down next to you.

“How come you’re here and not playing over there?”

“Not interested.”, Sakusa said simply, “But I don’t need Komori accusing me of being antisocial, so…”

“Ah, hiding in plain sight with the other introvert. I see I see.”

He smiled.

“So, what were you doing before I interrupted?”

“Just stargazing.”

He leaned back on his hands and followed your eyes. The night was strewn with stars, hanging like a thousand little lanterns on the inky sky. The crescent moon barely lit the campgrounds. Sakusa shivered when a breeze brushed past.

“Here.”, you said and tugged at the blanket around your shoulders, throwing part of it over his back. He had half a mind to shrug it off but it carried your warmth and scent, so instead, after a second thought, he pulled it closer.

“Look, there is Cygnus.”, he pointed to a cluster of stars somewhere to your right to distract you from possibly noticing the blush that crept onto his cheeks.

“Really?”

“No idea.”

You squinted at him and he chuckled.

For a while you were both quiet, just letting your eyes wander along the stars. The sounds of the fellow campers were more subdued now. People were talking over bonfires, toasting to the end of summer and someone was playing relatively pleasant music in the distance. The smell of roasted marshmallows wafted in your direction. Sakusa looked down and noticed that your hand was only inches away from his. If he moved his fingers a little further…

“I’m gonna miss being your manager.”, you sighed without taking your eyes off the sky.

“We’re going to the same university, aren’t we?”, he asked, still focused on slowly bringing his hand closer to yours.

“Oh, yeah but I meant, all of you guys. Not just you. Even though I’m gonna miss managing you more than - wait, not that I - uhm, I meant that-“

Your head snapped to the blanket where his large hand now covered your chubby fingers.

“I got it, don’t worry.”, he said, his voice sounding a lot raspier than he would have liked and so he attempted to covertly clear his throat.

Not even the night could hide his blush as he tried to look unbothered when you turned your hand up to lace your fingers with his.

art: @DcGhost_2710 on Twitter

a/n: request for @act-nat-ural

Thank you so much for this soft request! I hope you enjoyed it and thank you for your kind words! 🌟🫶🏻

for requests see here

#sunnys movie night #sakusa x chubby reader #sakusa kyoomi x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu x curvy reader #sakusa kyoomi x reader #sakusa x you #sakusa x y/n #sakusa fluff #sakusa x reader #hq sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu sakusa

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mythicmanuscripts · 6 months ago

Note

I keep thinking about how both Jace and Aemond must have some serious insecurities about how they look. For Jace obviously it’s tied to his dark hair and bastardry. For Aemond it’s his eye. Certainly nobody could go through that kind of horrific injury at such a young age and not have long lasting physical and mental trauma from it.

So anyway I just imagine you cuddling with Jace one evening in bed or finding him on the balcony of Dragonstone and coming up to him and wrapping your arms around him from behind as he’s pouting after a tiff with his mom. And you run your fingers through his curly hair and kiss his head and remind him that you love his beautiful dark hair. And maybe that can’t fix the issues that may come from his parentage, but hearing your praise definitely helps him accept himself a little more.

Meanwhile I feel like Aemond would be sooo bad at accepting praise over his looks at first. He’s fine at accepting compliments on his swordsmanship or his excellent high valyrian. He’s been trained by Cole in the former and plenty of people have lauded him for his skills before. He can accept that kind of praise because he’s worked hard on those skills for years so of course he’s good. (Of course, when you praise him for these things, he stands a little taller and a little prouder.) But when you compliment his looks he falters. It must be a joke right? And you have to assure him over a long period of time that you really mean it when you brush your fingers through his hair and call him handsome. Or trace his scar gently with your fingers and call him beautiful.

Uuuugh I just need these boys to feel loved and appreciated and valued :(

You’re so right anon!!! I love all of these thoughts.

There’s nothing too NSFW in my answers so I won’t add a cut but there is implied sub!jace and sub!Aemond so bare that in mind before scrolling :))

JACE:

So obviously we all know Jace’s insecurity stems from people doubting his parentage and saying he’s a bastard because of his appearance. The response he usually gets from others he’s close to when these insecurities or doubts arise is to tell him that he has his father’s name and no one can prove he’s a bastard and Rhaenyra certainly won’t admit it to him.

So I actually think the best way to help Jace might actually be to acknowledge it? Everyone else tries to convince him otherwise or dance around it. Instead, you tell him that he very well might be a Strong bastard but that changes absolutely nothing to you because he’s still the same person he’s always been and you still love him.

The first few times you do this jace just rolls his eyes and assumes you’re just trying to be nice. But then he starts to speak more to you and engage with you and be vulnerable and then he starts to realise that actually you’re completely serious.

When those insecurities rear their head, you always pull him into your arms first and promise him that you will always love him. Then you like to run your hands through his hair and tell him how pretty he is, how you have the best looking husband in all the seven kingdoms.

That last part always gets him to blush and then he sort of just collapses against you and wraps his arms around your shoulder to keep steady. You let him hide there, holding him around the waist and the moment he starts to stand up again you pull him back and tell him to take all the comfort he wants.

AEMOND:

Yeah I fully agree about the praise. Aemond wants to badly to be praised, especially about things he’s insecure about, but he can’t believe it. The first few times he actually thinks you’re mocking him because he just can’t understand how you could possibly find any part of him attractive.

I think the best way to start is to sandwich a compliment he’s not used to between two compliments he is used to, or at least between between two he might actually understand. Now this method works very well for helping him open up and accept your praise, but also you’re giving him three compliments in short succession so he may malfunction for a moment.

The first time you did this he drops the flagon of wine he was carrying. He came believe how many night things he just heard.

I also think he takes things better when you’re touching him at the same time? Like you don’t just call him pretty, you trace his father with your thumb and kiss his nose and jaw. He’s practically jelly when you do this, entirely overwhelmed.

Aemond really struggles to understand why anyone would ever compliment his appearance, so it definitely takes a long time to sink in. What really helps is consistency, telling him all the time and never wavering.

At the end of the day, no matter how insecure he is, he still wants to please and obey you and so if you tell him he’s pretty then he has to get it because he won’t fight fight you on it.

I also think a big stumbling block in this process is the fact that Aemond can actually be really affected by those around him and what they say to him? He’ll act like it doesn’t affect him but then the next time you’re complementing him, he can’t stop thinking about the way someone earlier had insulted or judged him.

You start a rule where he has to tell you whenever someone says something bad about him to him. At first he's shy about it, mumbling whatever was said so softly that you can barely understand what he's saying.

But after a while he actually starts to love being able to go to you to tell you these things because he always get praised and kissed and it makes him feel so good.

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diazsdimples · 9 months ago

Note

I'm here for bucktommy neck or forehead (MAYBE both 👀) kiss 😘

I gotchu, Di my love 🫡

Buck's mind swims deliciously as Tommy pulls out, and he bites back a whine as he feels every inch of his boyfriend slip from him, leaving him feeling empty and cold. His skin is buzzing with the aftershocks of an incredible orgasm, and he feels as though he's floating, like his brain is sitting gently on a cloud and drifting on by. He can feel the sweat cooling on his skin, his own cum splattered up his chest, and his body feels heavy, weighted down to the bed as if he were tied there. It takes all his effort to lift his arm, to reach out to Tommy, who is standing next to the bed, carefully cleaning off his softening cock.

He's beautiful. He's always beautiful, with his curly brown hair and his blue eyes and his toned chest, but right now, he's a goddamn vision. There's a fine sheen of sweat on his skin, and the muscles in his chest and stomach are glistening in the low light of their bedroom. He looks almost ethereal, as if he's glowing, and Buck can't look away. He reaches out a shaking hand, trying to wrap his fingers around Tommy's wrist and bring him closer.

"Come back to bed," he whispers, giving Tommy's wrist a gentle tug. Tommy smiles down at him, that soft, private smile, and then he's slipping back into bed, gathering Buck up in his arms. Buck settles into him with a contented sigh, snuggling against Tommy's chest.

"You tired?" He teases, and Buck nods, nuzzling his face into the side of Tommy's neck, pressing a soft kiss to his pulse point.

"A little," he admits quietly. He's all loose limbed and fucked out, and Tommy's arms around him make him feel as though he's being held together, catching him before he becomes boneless and falls apart.

Tommy cuddles Buck a little closer, his arms squeezing around Buck's waist, and he presses a kiss to Buck's nose, each of his cheeks, over each eyelid, a lingering one to his birthmark, and a final, sweet kiss in the middle of his forehead just below his hairline.

"You can sleep if you need to, baby. I'm here."

It's so tempting, Buck would love nothing more than to slip into the gentle haziness that's simmering around the edges of his consciousness, but he's sweaty and sticky, and covered in cum, and he knows he'll feel gross when he wakes up. It's with a considerable amount of effort that he lifts his head to gaze into Tommy's eyes.

"C'n we show'r?" he mumbles, chin digging into Tommy's pec as he speaks, and Tommy gives him a smile that can only be described as fond. He runs his hand through Buck's curls, pressing another kiss to his forehead, and nods.

"Yeah, 'course we can. C'mon."

Buck allows Tommy to coax him into a sitting position, his legs swinging over the edge of the bed, and he lets Tommy take his hand and lead him across the room and into the bathroom. Tommy turns the water on, and they wait for it to warm up, the bathroom getting steamier with each passing second. They stand there, pressed close to one another, and Buck wraps his arms around Tommy's waist, nuzzling into his shoulder, his lips moving in a slow, gentle pattern along his collarbone. Tommy's hands move soothingly up and down Buck's back, and he drops his head, pressing a kiss to the top of Buck's.

"You alright?"

Buck hums, nodding his head slightly, and he pulls away to meet Tommy's gaze.

"'m okay," he murmurs, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the corner of Tommy's mouth, which has curled into a smile. "'m just sleepy. And sticky."

"We'll fix that," Tommy tells him, his voice barely above a whisper. He brushes a curl from Buck's eyes, his fingers ghosting over the birthmark on his temple, and presses a kiss to the tip of Buck's nose. "Come on, in we get."

They step under the stream of water, and Buck groans, tipping his head back as the warm spray washes over his face, and his neck, and his shoulders. His body relaxes as the tension leaves him, and he sags forward, falling against Tommy's chest, and his boyfriend is there, ready to catch him. Tommy's arms come up around his waist, holding him close, and Buck nuzzles his nose into Tommy's collarbone, pressing a kiss to his chest.

"I love you," he whispers, his eyes fluttering closed, as Tommy begins to massage shampoo into his scalp. He leans into the touch, letting Tommy take care of him, and he sighs.

"I love you, too."

Buck drifts a little while Tommy washes him, rinses him off, and towel dries his hair. He can feel himself being manoeuvred back into the bedroom, being tucked into the bed with the covers pulled up to his chin. Tommy settles next to him and holds Buck from behind, pressing little kisses against his neck, the crown of his head, the backs of his ears. Buck can feel the heat radiating from his skin, and the gentle, steady beat of his heart against his back, and the way he's being held, safe and warm and secure, lulls him into a deep sleep.

He is happy, he is safe, he is loved.

Tagging some Bucktommy friends (sorry this one is a little shorter)

@theotherbuckley @hippolotamus @watchyourbuck @neverevan @wikiangela

@jesuisici33 @loveyouanyway @slightlyobsessedwitheverything (lmk if you want to be added or removed from this list)

#james answers things #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy ficlet #prompts #soft prompts #911 abc #911 #911verse #911 fanfic #buck x tommy #tevan #kinley #kinkley

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gejo333 · 1 year ago

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An Unexpected Match IV

DILF/DBF Miguel O’Hara x Female Reader

Pt. 1 Pt.5

Summary: After painfully finding out about Tyler cheating on you, you go to seek comfort in Miguel’s arms.

18+ Warning!!! This chapter will have a lot of smut.

I apologize for any grammatical mistakes I missed.

I didn’t reread over this yet cause I’m exhausted. But I will look over it tomorrow.

I think Friday is the best day for me to post. For now it will be once a week. But I’ll let you know if I’m able to post twice a week.

I’m sorry I haven’t posted this chapter sooner. I’ve been busy getting adjusted back to college.

Enjoy 💕

Wc: 3.5k

____________________________________________

Your eyes fluttered open, awakened by fingers gently brushing some of your hair out of your face. A smile graces your lips as you stretch your back slightly and wrap your arms around his neck. Miguel pulls your body against him, smiling down at you before he captures your lips into his. Even lying in bed with him, he still towers over you.

“Good morning.” You kiss him again as you brush some of his dark curly locks that were sticking to his forehead.

“Good morning, Hermosa. Did you sleep well?” Miguel smirked as he gazed down at your naked figure against him under the duvet.

“I did. Especially after you helped me last night.” You lightly chuckle as you get on top of Miguel, straddling his lap. You rest your hands on his broad chest as you smile at him. Miguel rests his hands on your hips, gently rubbing circles into them.

“I can help you again right now. How does that sound?” Your eyes widen, a smirk spreading on your lips as you feel Miguel’s morning wood against you. In one swift move, Miguel flipped you on the bed so that he was above you. His plush lips turned into a smirk as he leaned down and left kisses up your neck.

“Amor, how are you feeling?”

“Well, I’m feeling aroused right now.” You smile as you wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him in for a kiss. Miguel returns the kiss before he pulls away, smiling as he gently brushes his thumb across your cheek.

“I’m mean about last night. You came to me in tears. And you never told me what happened to you.”

A sigh escaped yours as your lips formed into a small frown. “You know how I’m feeling right now? I’m feeling not aroused anymore.” You slip from underneath him and get out of bed. You put on your panties and steal his sweatpants as you grab your hair tied to tighten the waistband. Then, you bend down to grab your tank top and put it on.

Miguel sighs, frustrated in himself for being his own cock-block. He gets out of bed, grabbing his boxers and another pair of sweats since you stole his before following you out of the bedroom and downstairs to the kitchen. It was still early morning and hours before Gabi would be dropped off from her sleepover.

“We should really talk about it. After almost a month of trying to get you back in bed with me, I didn’t expect you to come to me this fast. Is it about Tyler?” Miguel walks into the kitchen and leans back against the kitchen counter, watching you make coffee. He groans as he shifts his stance to shift his uncomfortable boner.

“Do you want milk in your coffee?” You ask him, grabbing the carton out of the fridge. Miguel moves behind you, trapping you against the counter as he gently takes the milk out of your hand, sitting down on the counter.

“Y/n, don’t ignore my question. Please answer me.”

You turn around, now facing him, and you raise an eyebrow. “Your seriously playing the authoritative card on me?”

Miguel glared softly at you as he put his arms on both sides of you and leaned down. “Don’t make me punish you. I’m trying to paw my hard erection away, but I can easily have you help me instead. Now tell me what happened last night.”

You look away from his gaze, surrendering as you bite your lip. A tear escaped as it fell down your cheek. Miguel’s gaze softened as he cupped your face and brushed away the tear.

“I caught Tyler in our bedroom with another woman.”

Hearing your words made Miguel’s blood boil. How could he cheat on such an amazing woman as you? It was downright horrible and idiotic.

“I’m so sorry, cariño.” Miguel wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against his chest to comfort you.

“As soon as I saw it, I walked straight out of there and drove right to you. Though it was obviously over between him and me when I caught him, I know I still need to say it. But he’s probably been cheating on me for god knows how long. I should have ended it a month ago when my feelings changed.”

Miguel’s heart skipped a beat from hearing your last words. Did your feelings change for Tyler because of him? “A man like that doesn’t deserve you. You deserve a man who will always be good to you and who can give you the world if you desire it.” He gently lifted your chin slightly so you could look at him.

“Do you mean a man like you?” You chuckle from your small joke but stop when you notice the seriousness in his gaze.

“I am. “Miguel’s thumb gently brushed your lower lip before he leaned down and kissed you. Your arousal rushed back to your core as you deepened the kiss.

Miguel picked you up and sat you on the counter as he spread your legs and grabbed the back of your knees, pulling you closer to him. He pulled down your sweats and panties as his hand trailed up your thigh before his finger gently brushed your clit before inserting his finger inside of you.

Your grip around him tightens as a moan escapes your lips that were smashed against Miguel’s own. Miguel began a pace, adding a second finger inside you as his lips trailed from your lips down to your neck. With his other hand, he removed both your tank top straps as he lowered your top, revealing your breasts. A gasp left you as you felt him rubbing your nipples. Miguel smirked as he captured his lips on yours as his tongue entered your mouth. You feel your core tighten as you clasp around his fingers.

“Miguel.” You whine as he removes his fingers from you just when you are about to orgasm. Miguel chuckled from your pout as he kissed your lips while lowering his sweats and boxers, revealing his throbbing member, drips of precum leaking from the tip. He grabs you by the thighs and pulls you off the counter before turning you around and bending you over.

He leans over you as he kisses your back to your neck before whispering in your ear, “Let me make you feel good, amor.” Miguel spreads your legs apart with his hand before you feel his tip brush against your sensitive, wet folds.

You bite your lip as you feel him slowly enter inside you.

“Let me hear your sweet voice.” Once he knew you were ready, he almost completely slid out before he rammed back inside you. He grabbed your hips to help steady his rough pace into you.

“Miguel.” You moan out his name as he stretches you the deeper he gets, making your eyes almost roll behind your head. Miguel pulls your hair back lightly, raising your head as he kisses your neck.

“I don’t know what you do to me, cariño. I can’t control myself when I’m around you.” Miguel’s teeth gently grazed your skin, sending shivers down your spine to your tightened core. His hand lowered to your clit as he began to rub it in circles; a long groan escaped you from the increase in pleasure.

“Miguel, I’m-uhh.” You lowered your head to the counter as you released yourself. A groan escaped from Miguel as he felt you tighten around him. A few thrusts more, and he spilled deep inside you. Miguel lightly rested his body against yours, sweaty skin and skin as he kissed the back of your neck. “Thank you, amor.”

The doorbell rang, making Miguel groan in frustration as he removed himself from you, tucking himself back into his boxers and sweats.

You quickly lift your panties and sweat as you fix your tank top. Another ring from the doorbell echoed through the house.

“Is it Gabi?” You ask Miguel as you clean the kitchen. Miguel looks back at you with the same perplexed look as you. “She should be at soccer practice right now. Stay here.” Miguel walks to the door and opens it. His eyes go wide.

“Hey, Sam,” Miguel says loud enough for you to hear as you quickly make it upstairs to his bedroom. Why would your father be here this morning?

“Hey Miguel, sorry, was I interrupting anything?” Sam chuckled, noting Miguel’s bare, sweaty chest.

“Just had a quick workout. That’s all.”

“I bet it was a workout. Glad you’re getting some action.” Sam chuckled as he pat Miguel on the shoulder before walking inside, which was normal. If it was normal circumstances. But with you upstairs in his bedroom, Miguel was nervous to have his close friend in his living room.

“What’s with the surprise visit? Everything alright?”

“Actually, it’s about y/n. She didn’t come home last night.” Miguel’s heart raced in his chest. It’s only been one night. How is it possible that they could have been caught? “Usually, Sarah and I are fine with it. She would be at her apartment, but Tyler came asking to see y/n this morning. I was just wondering if you’ve seen her.” Sam added as he headed towards the kitchen.

“How about we stay in the living room, Sam,” Miguel suggested as he tried to get ahead of him. It was too late as Sam entered the kitchen. However, Miguel sighed in relief when he found you weren’t there anymore.

“What’s up with you this morning? You’re a bunch of nerves right now.” Sam chuckled as he gave Miguel a confused look. He then noticed the two mugs of coffee on the counter. “Ahh, I see. You have a lady here. I’ll be on my way then. Let you get back to her. But please give me a call if you do see y/n.”

“I will. I’ll see you later, Sam.” Miguel gave him a small smile before walking to the door and saying goodbye.

Miguel took a deep breath as he closed the door before breathing out. That was a close call. Too close. He walked back upstairs to his bedroom, where he saw you dressed in your clothes from yesterday.

“From the looks of it, I guess you heard the conversation.” Miguel sighed as he grabbed a shirt from a drawer and put it on.

“Yeah, I did. I can’t believe that bastard came to my house this morning. But I must go there to tell my parents I’m fine. I’m sorry that you had to lie to my father. But thank you.” You finish putting on your shoes before you stand up and walk over to Miguel.

“It’s alright. We need to figure out our relationship before dealing with everyone else. When the time comes, it might not be a pretty reaction.” Miguel chuckled as he held you in his hand and gazed down at you with loving, soft eyes.

“Well, for now, that’s a future problem. Right now, I have to deal with the problem waiting for me currently at home. Wish me luck.” You sigh, a small smile on your face as you go on your toes to kiss him.

“If you’re free, would you want to come for dinner tonight?” Miguel’s breath went still, awaiting your answer. He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he saw that beautiful smile on your lips.

“I would love to. I’ll see you later today, then.” Miguel leads you downstairs, giving you a loving kiss goodbye before you sneak out of his house, checking to ensure no neighbors see.

You get into your car and drive down the street to your childhood home. You groan in annoyance when you see a familiar sports car parked out front. Of course, the asshole was still here, waiting to plead his case to you.

As you walk in, you hear Tyler talking with your parents. All heads turned towards you when you entered the living room.

“Y/n! Thank god you are safe. We were all so worried.” Your mother hugged you, which you gladly accepted before pulling away.

“Tyler, what are you doing here? It was pretty obvious that we ended things when I caught you cheating on me. So get out.” You sent him a nasty glare as a gesture for him to leave. Tyler stood up from the sofa and walked up to you, trying to caress your cheek, but not before you quickly stepped away from him.

“Kitten, I’m sorry. It was a dumb mistake on my part. Please, let’s put this past us. Come here.” Tyler walked closer to you again as he brought you into a hug. You tried to push away, but his grip around you was strong.

“Tyler, let me go. We are over!” Tears began to spill from your eyes, overwhelmed by heartbreak. Your stomach rose, sick to your stomach as Tyler caressed your face.

“You’re just emotional and angry at the moment, so you’re not making the best choices.” Tyler leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. You immediately removed your lips and pushed him away before a loud smack echoed.

Tyler’s face turned to the side, a red mark on his cheek. He turned to you with a smirk. “OK, fine. I deserved that. But let’s sit and talk things out. Right, Sarah? Sam?”

“Mom? Dad?” You look to your parents, confused and angry by Tyler’s last words.

“You’re mother can speak for this. I’m not part of this. I can’t entirely agree. But as you can see, your mother is glaring daggers at me.” Your father sighed, shaking his head.

“Care to explain, Mom?”

“I think you’re making a mistake. Yes, I’m mad that he did that to you, but you have been so happy with each other. It’s been so good. People make mistakes. You should talk it out and forgive him.” Your mom walked over to you as she tried to brush some of your hair behind your ear. However, you pulled back. Your heart aches for another reason now.

“I’m leaving. I’m not living here.” You leave as you head up the stairs to your room, where you begin to pack a suitcase with clothes and necessities.

You text Stephanie asking if you could crash for a week while you try to find a new place to live, which your best friends happily agree to. After packing, you left downstairs, where your parents and Tyler tried to reason with you to stay. Tears still slip down your face as you keep the silent treatment as you walk out the door.

———

One month later

“I found a few places on the market in my price range. Do you want me to look at them and help me out?” The phone rested against your shoulder, your head holding it as you multi-take with chopping vegetables.

“Totally! I love that type of shit! Our own version of house hunters.” Stephanie said on the other end of the call.

“Perfect. Thanks again for letting me crash at your place. It means a lot.”

“Of course! You always have a place to stay with me. Plus, you did pay for half the rent this month, which you insisted upon. I must finish this deadline, but I’ll see you later tonight.”

“OK, cool. See you later. Bye.” You end the call as you continue with your task. You heard the front door open and close as you heard light, quick footsteps approaching the kitchen before you felt small arms wrap around you.

“Hi, my baby bug. How was practice?” You set the knife down as you lean down and return the hug.

“I scored two goals!” Gabi released you from the hug as she jumped in excitement from telling her news.

“Omg, that’s amazing Gabi! I’m so proud of you! I wish I was there to see it!” You jump in excitement along with her as you lightly lift her up and twirl her around before setting her down. You then take the carrot sticks, put them in a bowl, and hand them to Gabi.

“Can I please have hummus with my carrots?” Gabi asked.

“Of course.” You go to the fridge to grab the hummus tub and grab a spoon to scoop some for Gabi.

You walked into Miguel’s office once you helped Gabi settle down in front of the TV to watch cartoons.

“Hi.” You say as you walk up towards the sexy workaholic. You lean against his desk as you gaze at him, staring at the multiple screens of complicated equations. “I don’t know how you can understand what’s on that computer. That looks like numbers, letters, and scribbles to me.” You giggle, which makes a smile appear on Miguel’s face, earning you a small victory and, finally, his full attention.

Miguel moved before you, putting his arms around you and pulling you against him. “I’m sorry amor. You have my full attention.” Miguel smiled lovingly down at you before kissing you passionately on the lips.

You pull away after a heated kiss, a string of saliva the only thing still connecting you both. A naughty thought came to your mind as you gently moved away from Miguel and went to lock the door.

“What’s on your mind?” Miguel smirked as he caught your lustful gaze. You walk up to him and slowly drag your hands down his chest before gently pushing him to sit on his desk chair.

“You’re smart; I think you can easily figure it out.” You get on your knees and settle between his legs as you unzip his pants and free his half-hardened cock.

A few strokes from your hand brought it fully to life. You dragged your tongue up his member before kissing his leaking tip, your gaze not leaving him once. You open your mouth for him to slide onto your tongue and down your throat.

“You treat me so well, Hermosa. I don’t deserve you.” Miguel moaned out as his hand reached the back of your head. His fingers intertwined into your hair as he gently thrusts into your throat. You hum against his cock in approval, earning another groan from Miguel’s lips, music to your ears.

“Your mouth is heaven. You can take more of me, can’t you, amor?” Miguel gently thrusts more of himself into your mouth; luckily, you were able to stop your gag reflexes from kicking in as you continued to move your tongue along his cock.

Miguel groaned in pleasure and frustration when he heard your phone buzz for the millionth time against the desk. He rolled his eyes, knowing already who was calling you.

Since you broke up with Tyler a month ago, he has been spamming you with messages and calls to get you back. Finally having enough of it, he picked up your phone and took of photo of you sucking him off. It’s not the first time he’s taken a video or photo of your sexual activities between the two. Whether that’s sliding his fingers or cock into your wet folds, fucking you in different positions.

He then sent the photo to Tyler, saying, She’s busy! Stop calling her.

“That should get him to stop. Fuck, I can’t last much longer.” Miguel set your phone back on his desk before he gently thrust a few more times before spilling it into your throat. You swallow every drop, licking his tip clean before wiping any left off your lips.

Standing up from your previous position, Miguel grabs your hips and pulls you on his lap, straddling you. Your eyes widen when you feel him grow hard again as he lifts your skirt slightly and moves your panties to the side before pushing himself inside you.

“H-How are you hard again? I just sucked you off.” You gasp, eyes wide, as you feel his erect cock enter your dripping cunt.

“You should know by now how strong my stamina is, cariño. We have been fucking for a month. “Miguel chuckled as he grabbed your hips and slammed you down onto him, and began a rough pace, way fast from the earlier throat fucking.

After two rounds, you rested your head against his chest, trying to catch his breath as you felt him spill deep inside you. Miguel removed himself from you, putting himself away as he peppered your face with loving kisses.

“So when will you tell me you’ve been homeless for a month?”

“I’m not homeless. I’ve been staying at Stephanie’s apartment until I can find one. I’m going to a few open houses this weekend.”

“You won’t need to go to any open houses. I found you the perfect place.”

“Where?” Your brows furrowed as you smiled up at him in confusion. Miguel smiled as he kissed you fondly.

“Here. Move in with me and Gabi.”

____________________________________________

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!💕💕💕

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————————————————————————

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#miguel o'hara #spider man 2099 #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel x reader #oneshot #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #miguel smut #miguel o’hara smut #miguel x you #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #miguel x fem!reader

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holylulusworld · 3 months ago

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Bound Tight - Kinktober 30

Summary: You're in trouble...

Pairing: Mobster!Guy March-Philips x fem!Reader x Mobster!Anders Lassen

Warnings: mafia au, restraints/being restrained, scared reader, I’ll label this one dub-con, implied future smut/threesome, I’m a tease…

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2024

Privacy is essential to your boss. You should’ve known better than to walk into the office on his boat without knocking. A phone call distracted you, and you forgot to knock before you entered the room.

Gus, your boss, was in the middle of a conversation with his bodyguard. Anders, the guy you only call giant in secret, pushed his cute glasses back up as his eyes landed on you.

He sucked in a breath as your eyes drifted toward the huge money stack on Gus’s desk. Your eyes widened because you never saw so much money in your life. Gus couldn't have so much money. You’re his bookkeeper and know how much money he makes with his business.

“Anders, would you excuse?" Gus’s features darkened as his eyes drifted toward you as you stood in the room, his cup of coffee, and the latest numbers in your hands. “Someone’s being sneaky, my friend. I think I should have a serious conversation with my bookkeeper now.”

Gus leaned back in his chair, making it creak under his weight. Your boss enjoyed the fear flashing over your face. He dipped his head and hummed as your hands began to tremble.

Anders nodded at your boss, turning to leave the office. He brushed past you, sniffing at your hair as he passed you.

“Wait—” Gus snapped his fingers at Anders. “I need your assistance. You’re very skilled when it comes to punishment.” Your boss slowly got up; like a lion ready to pounce on his prey, he kept an eye on your trembling form. “And ropes.”

You whimpered, expecting the worst. For a few weeks, you had the feeling that something else than selling expensive boats was going on in your company.

“You've been a bad girl,” Gus purred as he stalked toward you. He took the cup out of your hands and threw the manila folder over his shoulder. He was dwarfing you with his size, making you whimper as he encouraged Anders to step behind you. The giant placed his hands on your shoulders.

“Y/N, you should know that bad girls need to be punished." Anders’s rough voice sent a shiver down your spine. “I’d love to try my new ropes on you, sugar plum.”

Curly hair...curly hair... You focussed on Gus’s dark curls as he cupped your face with one big hand. Staring up at him like the lamb you were between these wolves, you trembled even harder.

What if your boss was not an eccentric boat builder? What if your presumptions were right, and he was a criminal, hiding things from you?

Gus darted his tongue out. He looked down at you, eyes roaming your body hungrily. You whimpered again, this time for a different reason. “What do you say, Anders? Do you want to test your ropes on her?”

They talked about you as if you weren’t even there. You were just a toy for them to play with after you made the mistake of walking in on them.

“Hmm…yeah. I always imagine how cute she’d look with a rope wrapped around her ripe body,” Anders purred in your ear, tickling your skin with his breath. “I’ll make her my masterpiece.”

Firm hands gripped your upper arms as Gus’s hand remained on your face. He hummed, eyes glued to your parted lips. “I think she’ll look pretty old tied up on my desk. What do you think?”

Bare. Exposed. Vulnerable. You’ve never felt so small before.

Anders, true to his words, got his ropes to dangle them in your face. He laughed when you pulled away and tried to hide behind your boss.

Gus didn’t show mercy either. He got a knife out, cutting off your clothes, leaving you in nothing but your birth suit. Your boss pushed everything off his desk, even the money to lift you on it.

You squirmed under his gaze, not daring to breathe wrong when he told you to lie down. Feeling the cold maple wood against your heated skin made you shiver.

At first, it was just a little rope around your wrist, nothing more. Anders made quick work; eyes glued to your exposed body. You could see the hunger in his eyes.

Something soft brushed against your ankles; Gus was tying both feet to one of the legs of the table, making sure they were firmly secured. Your left hand was being tied up to another leg.

You were at their mercy now.

“So pretty and soft,” Gus murmured. He ran his fingertips over one breast, pinching your nipple. “I dreamed of having you like this.”

You watched them circle you like prey, featherlight touches making goosebumps erupt all over your skin, never getting even close to your cunt.

“Please,” you whimpered as Gus stepped between your spread legs. He stared down at your slicked cunt, biting his index finger, wetting it.

“Oh, sweetness,” he purred your name and nodded at Anders. “We are going to ruin you once and for all.”

#gus march phillips #anders lassen #gus march phillips x fem!reader x anders lassen #Bound Tight - Kinktober 30 #kinktober vs flufftober 2024 #the ministry of ungentlemanly warfare

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maracujatangerine · 3 months ago

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85. Chunk of clay

CW: NSFW, violence, forced nudity, forced medication, institutionalised slavery, dehumanisation, box boy universe, pet whump

The hash glare from the overhead lights glinted off the tabletop. The young man stretched out on the metal surface was completely naked. His golden-toned skin pricking with goosebumps. His every muscle taut with fear and anticipation.

The two handlers with him, the man and the woman, were both fully clothed.

The woman, dark-haired and brown-eyed, just completed her slow circle around the table.

“Give me your hand.”

Her tone was quiet and very calm. When the man on the table tremulously reached out to her, she took a roll of thin, dark blue sewing thread from her pocket. She methodically wrapped the end of the thread around the leg of the table and then looped it around his wrist so that his hand, palm upward, was tied to the table. A red and white tattoo of chrysanthemum flowers circled his forearm, the beautiful imagery at odds with the clinical surroundings.

“Now, your other hand.”

Slowly circling the table once more, clockwise this time, she tied his other wrist. The WRU barcode tattoo clearly visible. Then she carefully tied down his ankles. It was as if he was bound to the table with gossamer strands.

If the young man had but twitched, the thread would instantly have broken.

She took a step back, surveying her handiwork with an air of satisfaction.

“That’s good.” She smiled. “You are doing good.”

She brushed her hand across the dark, curly hair covering his chest, gently, as if petting a cat. Then, she moved her hand down his chest in a languid caress, following the string of hair down along his rib cage, pausing to stroke her hand a few times over his flat stomach. Then, decisively, she moved further down.

The young man jerked involuntarily, his muscles trembling with the effort of keeping himself completely immobile.

She just rested her gloved hand there, between his legs. Her skin warm beneath the thin, black rubber of the glove.

He is hardly breathing. Rolling his eyes to watch her without turning his head. Fear written in every line of his face and body.

“Now,” she said, “I know you haven’t been trained for this. But, what if I wanted to have you? Or… what if my colleague here did? What would you do?”

The young man’s bottom lip shivered, his eyes glassy with tears. He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“I… I w-would do my best, Trainer Álvarez.”

”That’s good.” She nodded. “What if I asked you to break the thread that I used to tie you to the table, would you be able to do it?”

The young man blinked, clearly surprised.

“Yes, Trainer Álvarez.”

“And what if I - or your future owner - would tell you that this is a magic thread, totally impossible for you to get out of. Would you be able to break it then?”

“Eh…” He looked at her, bewildered. “…no?”

“That’s right. I’m telling you that this is a magical, unbreakable thread. What is the rule? The owner…”

The pet on the table relaxed visibly. This was home ground.

“The owner is always right, Trainer Álvarez.”

“That’s right. Good boy.” Letting go, she instead reached out and cupped his cheek affectionately. The young man eagerly leaned his head to press into her touch.

With her free hand, she fished something out from her trouser pocket, holding it up for the man on the table. His dark eyes instantly fixed on the small, white pill, tension returning to the set of his jaw.

“It’s time for you to take your medicine.” She said, deceptively gently. “Now, open up, but don’t swallow yet.”

He instantly opened his mouth, dark eyes wide with fear. It was clear that resisting was not an option he even considered. He held the pill on his tongue, while she turned and took a few steps to the sink in the corner of the room. She filled a glass of water and returned to the table.

“Now you can swallow.” She said, carefully cradling his head and raising the glass of water to his lips. It was an uncomfortable position, spread-eagled like that, but her raising his head helped and he quickly swallowed the pill with the water. Afterwards, she gently lowered his head to the table.

“I want you to lay here and just relax for a while. Unbreakable thread, remember?”

The fear was back with full force in his eyes, but he nodded immediately.

“Yes, trainer.”

The trainers fill their WRU-branded mugs from the coffee machine, a double espresso for her, an Americano for him, and watch the naked young man shivering on the table from behind the sound-isolated two-way mirror.

“I always like to teach them all the ways to take their medicine.” She explains. “Pills, liquids, eye drops, through their nose, up their bum… you get the drill. They should be fine with all of it. You never know what an owner will need or enjoy. It is also important to train in different situations, you want them to be absolutely rock solid in their ability to obey.”

“What about injections?”

She nods.

“Of course. Well. Not for this one at the moment. This is a trust-building exercise, not punishment. We want him to learn the lesson that good dogs get rewarded… sometimes.”

She smiles again, this time with an edge, like a hidden knife glinting in the dark.

“Just give him that hope for ‘sometimes’. He is going to chase that high so hard. There’s no limit to what he will do.” She pauses. “Anyway. Needles, he has a bad time with those. That is something we’ll have to deal with, but this is just an exercise reinforcing focus and obedience. There’s no need for torture.”

The man nods respectfully.

“What drug dig you give him?” He asks.

“It’s just a mild painkiller. Punishment pills should be reserved for special occasions only.” She takes a sip of her espresso. “They need to know that the pain is a possibility, but there’s no…” Her explanation is interrupted by the door opening.

“Hey.” The large man in a black handler uniform rolls his shoulders and stretches before stepping up to the coffee machine.

“Harris.” Trainer Álvarez nods in curt greeting.

He chooses an Americano and glances idly out the two-way mirror while waiting for the machine to finish his drink.

”I see you’re still playing your little sewing games, Gabriela. How’s that coming along for you?”

“It’s going great. Thanks, Harris.” Her tone is carefully neutral.

“Mhm… Well, I guess…” He turns and nods to the younger man. “Don’t worry, Jason. Next rotation you’ll be shadowing me, and I’m not afraid to show you the ropes of the real, hard work.”

He grabs his coffee and walks towards the door. “Later, guys.”

As soon as the heavy door falls closed behind him, trainer Álvarez scoffs.

“Jesus, he’s such a prick at all times. I’m sorry you’ll be stuck with him.”

She turns full on to face the younger man.

“Listen, Jason. You are going to meet a lot of guys like Harris here. They talk a lot and they think they are so great at their work, but actually they’re just getting off on their own fantasies of violence and domination. But really….”

She pauses and shakes her index finger back and forth in a ‘no’ gesture.

“They have no finesse. You need a light touch with this job, you might not think it, but it is true.

If you like to just break someone, his methods are just fine, but that… I think that is not enough. We should aim to create works of art.”

She gestures out at the bound man behind the glass.

“I like to send them out to love their master. Not just fear them. Jason, do you know what a golem is?”

“Ma’am?” Confusion is written all over the younger man’s face. Gabriela smiles.

“In Jewish mythology, a golem is a figure created by clay or mud. It can do tasks, but it is mindless, without a soul. That is what Harris and his ilk does. He makes the pets into empty husks. They obey, all right. But no one is home.”

She shakes her head slowly, eyes shining.

“I want to make them beautiful. When I am finished with them, they will obey, yes, but more than that, they will feel and love and desire. I don’t trample all over their hearts. I cultivate them, strictly, but carefully. It is like trimming a fruit tree, or cutting a hedge. There is violence, yes, but also gentleness. In the end, with all their being, they don’t only fear, but they yearn to please their master.”

She walks over and puts her empty mug in the dishwasher.

“Come on, it’s time. Let’s go shape our chunk of clay.”

This post has really been a long time in the making. I have had several people asking about Brutus. (Thanks for the asks! ❤️) I hope you’ll enjoy this glimpse into his past.

Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @whumpzone @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards-blog @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

#pet whump #bbu #WRU #box boy multiverse #box boy universe #box boy whump #pet whumpee #whump fic #lydia and coriander #writeblr #writers on tumblr #original writing

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 1 year ago

Text

Underneath The Tree.

my masterlist || ask me anything <3

in which, since officially dating harry for a total of eight years now, courting for three, being married for three and parents for two, you’ve both given each other, such wonderful gifts over the years, and here’s a few of them.

word count - 4.2k

December 25th, 2016.

The soft glow of Christmas lights adorned the living room, casting a warm ambiance that enveloped you and Harry. Nestled next to the adorned tree, its branches cradling memories of past and present, you shared the magic of your first Christmas together. The room echoed with the subtle crackling of a fireplace, dancing flames adding to the festive charm.

In the quiet moments between the two of you, the air was filled with a sense of coziness and joy. Harry's arm wrapped gently around you, you both sat in a peaceful embrace, savouring the serenity of the holiday. The scent of pine wafted through the room, mingling with the sweet aroma of freshly baked cookies—a joint effort earlier in the day as you navigated the kitchen together, sharing laughter and flour-dusted kisses.

Later in the day, you would venture to each other's families, weaving through the tapestry of traditions that made your bond even richer. Yet, in this tranquil interlude by the tree, you found the essence of the season—wrapped in love, shared glances, and the promise of many more Christmases to come.

But for now, it was time to give each other the main presents that you got each other.

Harry, with his long, curly hair tied into a messy man bun, looks comfortably relaxed in joggers and a hoodie. The anticipation lingers in the air as you hand him a beautifully wrapped gift, a twinkle in your eye.

"Go on, open it," you encourage, a smile playing on your lips. Harry's eyes light up with curiosity as he tears away the wrapping paper, revealing a sleek box. When he opens it, he's met with a pair of tickets nestled within. His gaze flickers from the tickets to you, confusion and surprise etched on his face.

"Two tickets to a weekend retreat," you announce, your excitement bubbling over. "I thought it would be a perfect getaway for us."

Harry looks at the tickets, then back at you, a mixture of disbelief and joy in his expression.

"Seriously? How did y’manage this?" he asks, his voice a blend of curiosity and amusement.

You chuckle, enjoying his reaction.

"Well, I may have had a little chat with management," you tease, a mischievous grin dancing on your lips. "We leave Monday."

Harry's eyes widen, and a grin slowly spreads across his face.

"You're amazing," he declares, pulling you in for a deep, appreciative kiss. The warmth of the moment deepens as you share laughter and excitement, the promise of a spontaneous adventure adding a special spark to your first Christmas together.

With a grin that mirrors your own excitement, Harry reaches for a set of beautifully wrapped packages.

"Y’turn," he says, handing them over with a twinkle in his eye. Eagerly, you begin to unwrap them, revealing two elegant jewellery boxes. Your curiosity piqued, you open the boxes to find matching gold cross necklaces nestled inside, one for you and one for Harry.

His eyes lock onto yours, a mix of anticipation and affection.

"I thought it would be something meaningful f’both of us," he explains, his voice soft with sincerity. "T’have a piece of each other wherever we go."

You're touched by the thoughtful gesture, and a warm smile spreads across your face. "They're beautiful, H. I love them."

He grins, clearly pleased with your reaction.

"I wanted something that would symbolise our connection," he continues, reaching over to take one of the necklaces out of the box. "Here, let me put y’on."

As he clasps the delicate chain around your neck, the weight of the cross feels like a tangible bond between you. You watch as Harry puts on his own necklace, the matching gold crosses now adorning both of you.

"They say gold represents enduring love," he says, his gaze lingering on the necklace. "I thought it was fitting f’us."

You reach over and gently touch the cross on his chest, a silent acknowledgment of the sentiment. "It's perfect, H. I couldn't have asked for a better gift."

December 25th, 2017.

The second Christmas together unfolds with an air of shared warmth and familiarity. The room is adorned with the soft glow of lights, casting a warm ambiance that complements the joy in the air.

As you hand Harry a meticulously wrapped gift, there's a twinkle in your eye, knowing that this particular present holds the potential for genuine surprise.

Harry, with his short, cropped hair for a recent film role, receives the gift with a curious gleam in his eyes.

The wrapping paper gives way, revealing a framed Manchester United shirt inside. His expression shifts from curiosity to delight as he takes in the iconic red and white stripes.

His fingers gently trace over the imprinted name of his all-time favourite player, Rio Ferdinand.

"No way," he breathes, his voice a mixture of shock and excitement. "S’this real?"

Your smile widens, a blend of amusement and satisfaction. "It's not just any shirt. Open it up."

Harry lifts the frame, his eyes widening in astonishment as he discovers Rio Ferdinand's unmistakable signature proudly adorning the shirt.

A gasp escaped his lips. "This is signed by Rio Ferdinand! How did y’manage t’get this?"

You nod, your eyes sparkling with the joy of the surprise. "I thought you might like a piece of your football hero to hang on the wall."

Harry, still processing the unexpected revelation, is at a loss for words. "Y’didn't tell me it was signed! This is incredible."

Your laughter fills the room, a musical backdrop to the shared moment. "I may have wanted to see your reaction. It's all worth it now."

As Harry continues to marvel at the framed treasure in his hands, you explain how you orchestrated the surprise – a combination of connections and a bit of good luck.

The story adds depth to the gift, turning it into a tale of effort and thoughtfulness.

"You're sneaky, but I love it. Thank you so much," he finally says, his eyes reflecting both disbelief and gratitude.

The room is now charged with a shared sense of joy, the surprise gift becoming a centerpiece of your second Christmas together.

The evening unfolds with a tapestry of conversation, weaving through stories of football matches, childhood dreams, and the journey of the past year.

The framed, signed shirt becomes a symbol of shared passions and thoughtful gestures, creating a memory that adds another layer to your evolving story as a couple.

Harry, still in awe of the gift, reflects on the impact football has had on his life. "Y’know, I used t’dream about playing on a big stage like that, with thousands cheering. S’funny how a game can shape y’dreams."

He always told you that when he was little he used to want to be a footballer like Rio, but then that changed and he studied law at college and now he was a household name.

You nod, captivated by the sincerity in his voice. "Football has a way of connecting people, inspiring dreams, and creating memories. I thought having a piece of that magic would be special for us."

Harry gazes at the framed treasure, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips. "You've given me more than just a signed jersey. You've given me a piece of m’childhood dreams, wrapped up in our story."

The conversation takes a turn as you discuss plans for the future, prompted by the dreams sparked by the framed jersey.

"Maybe we can catch a live match together next year," you suggest. "Experience the energy and excitement of the stadium."

Harry's eyes light up with enthusiasm. "Absolutely! That would be incredible."

"Every time I look at this, I'll be reminded of this beautiful Christmas and the dreams we're weaving together," Harry says, his eyes reflecting gratitude.

December 25th, 2018.

The third Christmas together arrives, and the room is aglow with the warm hues of festive lights. You and Harry find yourselves seated next to the tree, the air filled with a blend of excitement and comfort as you exchange gifts. The last present of the morning rests in your hands, a mysterious package from Harry that adds an extra layer of anticipation to the moment.

With a playful glint in his eyes, Harry asks you to close your eyes, guiding you to stand up while holding your hands gently. The room is enveloped in a tranquil hush, creating an atmosphere charged with expectancy.

"Keep ‘em closed," Harry says softly, his voice carrying a subtle excitement. You nod, a mixture of curiosity and exhilaration building within you.

"Now, open y’eyes," he instructs, and as you do, the sight that meets you takes your breath away.

Harry is down on one knee, a small box in his hand, and his eyes gleam with a mixture of nerves and deep affection.

The room seems to hold its breath, and your heart quickens.

"Harry..." you begin, your voice barely a whisper, as tears of emotion pool in your eyes.

He smiles, a tender expression on his face. "M’love, I can't help but marvel at the journey we've embarked on together. This past year has been a beautiful chapter in the book of our lives, and with each passing moment, my love f’you has only deepened."

Harry's gaze intensifies, as if he's navigating the depth of his emotions. "I think about the laughter we've shared, the challenges we've faced, and the unwavering support we've provided each other. Y’been m’rock, m’confidante, and m’greatest source of joy."

The vulnerability in his voice resonates deeply, and your emotions swell. Harry takes a moment, as if savouring the significance of the words he's about to speak. "From t’moment we met, I knew there was something extraordinary about you. You've brought a richness to m’life that I never knew was possible, and with each passing day, I find new reasons to fall in love with you."

The room seems to hold its breath, captivated by the sincerity of Harry's words.

“Will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?"

The gravity of the question hangs in the air, and you're momentarily lost for words. The depth of his sincerity and the love reflected in his eyes create a poignant moment.

"Harry, I... yes. Yes, a thousand times yes," you finally manage to say, your voice a blend of joy and overwhelming emotion.

A radiant smile graces Harry's face as he gently slides the ring onto your finger.

"I love you more than words can express, and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you," he declares, his words imbued with a profound sense of commitment.

The room is filled with a sacred pause as you share a tender moment, the promise of forever binding you together.

The ring catches the light, casting a mesmerising glow that seems to infuse the space with an ethereal quality.

"I never want to stop making memories with you," Harry whispers, his gaze unwavering.

December 25th, 2019.

The scent of fresh pine permeated the air, a gentle reminder of the majestic tree standing proudly in the corner, adorned with an array of ornaments and baubles. The flickering flames in the fireplace cast a warm, golden hue, creating a cozy ambiance that beckoned you and Harry into its .embrace

The plush carpet beneath your feet felt like a velvety extension of the holiday spirit, and the air hummed with a quiet anticipation. The room was a symphony of reds and greens, with stockings hanging from the mantelpiece like eager sentinels, waiting to be filled with festive surprises. A soft, nostalgic melody emanated from a record player, weaving through the air and adding a touch of timeless elegance to the surroundings.

The Christmas tree itself was a masterpiece, its branches adorned with an eclectic collection of ornaments—each one a cherished memory from the past four years.

It was the fourth Christmas you and Harry had shared, but this one held a unique significance – the first as his fiancée.

you handed Harry a meticulously wrapped box, a bow echoing the festive colors. Your eyes sparkled with excitement as he accepted the gift.

"Merry Christmas, my love," you said, your voice carrying the joy of the season.

With a playful grin, Harry began unwrapping the gift, curiosity dancing in his eyes.

"I wonder what m’soon-to-be wife has in store for me this year," he teased, fingers deftly peeling away the paper.

As Harry unwrapped the present, his eyes widened in surprise at the sight of a sleek Polaroid camera nestled within the box.

"A Polaroid camera?" he exclaimed, a mixture of curiosity and delight in his voice.

You smiled, your eyes meeting his.

"Yes, I thought it would be perfect for your upcoming tour," you explained. "I know you've been planning it for your new album, and I wanted to make sure you could capture every show and all those important moments, even when I can't be there with you."

His gaze softened with gratitude as he took in the thoughtful gesture.

"Y’always know how to make every moment special," he said, his fingers tracing the contours of the camera. "S’amazing. Now I can carry a piece of y’with me on the road."

"It's not just about the camera, H," you replied, your voice sincere. "It's about preserving the memories and creating a tangible record of your journey. You'll be surrounded by fans and experiences, and I want you to have a way to hold onto those moments, no matter where you are."

He nodded, a deep appreciation in his eyes. "I love that idea. It'll be like having y’right there with me, capturing the essence f’each show and the places we visit."

As he explored the features of the camera, you leaned in and gently kissed his cheek.

"Consider it a way to share the adventure, even when we're miles apart," you whispered, the promise of your love carried in those words.

December 25th, 2020.

It was your fifth Christmas with Harry, yet this year held an unmistakable difference. The world outside your cozy haven was in the grip of a global lockdown, casting a quiet stillness over the usually bustling streets of London.

Seated beneath the tree, mugs of hot cocoa cradled in your hands, you and Harry found solace in each other's company. The usual holiday gatherings and festivities were replaced by an intimate setting, the two of you wrapped in blankets as a subtle chill lingered in the air.

The hushed sounds of a city on pause created a backdrop to the crackling of the fireplace, weaving a bittersweet melody.

Despite the circumstances, the glow of the Christmas lights illuminated the room with a reassuring warmth. The tree, adorned with ornaments collected over the years, stood as a testament to the memories you and Harry had shared.

As you exchanged glances over the rims of your cocoa-filled mugs, a silent understanding passed between you—a recognition of the strength found in love during times of uncertainty.

Earlier in the day, you had eagerly presented Harry with your carefully chosen gift.

Harry, with a twinkle in his eye, promised that your present would be arriving shortly. As you sat by the tree, wrapped in blankets with mugs of hot cocoa in hand, anticipation hung in the air like a delicate melody.

Suddenly, a resonant knock echoed through the room, causing your heart to leap with excitement.

You bolted to your feet, the warmth of the blankets still clinging to you, and Harry, with a mischievous smile, motioned for you to close your eyes.

"Keep 'em shut, m’love," he urged as he went to answer the door.

Anxiously, you waited, the seconds stretching into an eternity.

"Okay, open your eyes," Harry declared.

As your eyes fluttered open, you were met with a sight that left you utterly and pleasantly surprised.

There, standing at the threshold with beaming smiles, were your mum and dad.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you rushed towards them, disbelief and joy mingling on your face.

"Mum, Dad, how...?" you stammered, enveloping them in a tight embrace. Harry stood back, his eyes gleaming with happiness at the success of the surprise.

Your mum, still holding you close, smiled warmly.

"We wanted to surprise you, love. We've missed you so much," she said, her voice choked with emotion.

Your dad, joining the embrace, added, "We took Covid tests and made the journey to be here for Christmas. It's been a tough year, and we couldn't imagine spending it without you."

As you all settled back under the tree, the room filled with the warmth of shared love and the rich aroma of cocoa.

"I can't believe you're here," you said, wiping away happy tears.

Your mum chuckled, "Nothing can keep us away from our family, especially not a lockdown."

Harry, having played a key role in orchestrating this heartwarming surprise, joined the emotional reunion.

"I may have had a small part in this surprise," he admitted with a grin. "Y’folks insisted on making y’Christmas special, and who was I to say no?"

The remainder of the evening unfolded in a beautiful blur of laughter, stories, and shared moments.

December 25th, 2021.

In the glow of the Christmas lights, you and Harry celebrated your sixth holiday season together, marking the second as a married couple.

The air was infused with a special kind of warmth, a blend of love and shared history that only deepened with each passing year. As the evening unfolded, you couldn't wait to exchange gifts, eager to see the joy in Harry's eyes.

After Harry opened the gift you had carefully chosen for him, his eyes lit up with appreciation.

"Y’always know how t’make everything feel magical," he said, leaning in for a sweet kiss.

You chuckled at his excitement, quoting one of his songs, "Looks like you've got no control, Harry."

His laugh echoed through the room as he playfully rolled his eyes.

"Okay, okay, I'll try t’contain m’excitement, but no promises," he teased.

You handed him a box, neatly wrapped and adorned with a bow.

"Merry Christmas, my love," you said, your heart fluttering with excitement. Harry eagerly tore away the tissue paper, revealing the contents of the box.

His eyes widened as he saw the pregnancy test and a tiny baby grow tucked inside.

He looked up at you, a mix of disbelief and joy on his face.

"Is this... is this real?" he asked, his voice filled with emotion.

You nodded, tears shimmering in your eyes as you confirmed, "Yes, H. We're going to be parents."

The room seemed to hold its breath as Harry processed the incredible news. His eyes never left yours as he carefully cradled the pregnancy test and the baby grow.

"I'm going to be a dad," he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and love.

You nodded again, unable to hold back the tears of happiness that now spilled freely.

"We're going to be parents, Harry," you whispered, reaching out to hold his hands. His grin stretched from ear to ear as he pulled you into a tight embrace, his excitement matching yours.

Amidst the soft glow of Christmas lights, you and Harry shared a moment that would forever be etched in your memories. The room echoed with laughter, love, and the promise of a new chapter.

As Harry held the pregnancy test and baby grow close, you both reveled in the magic of the season and the incredible gift of starting a family together.

December 25th, 2022.

In the soft glow of the seventh Christmas lights, your home was filled with a warmth that went beyond the twinkling decorations. This year marked a significant milestone as you and Harry celebrated your first Christmas as parents to a little two-month-old son named Arthur.

As the fireplace crackled, casting dancing shadows on the walls, you couldn't help but marvel at the joy that this tiny bundle brought into your lives.

Arthur's birth, just two months ago, was a moment etched in time. Contrary to expectations, his arrival was like a gentle whisper of snow – serene and magical. The labor was swift, and he seemed to come into the world with a spirit of lightness. With his shock of curls and green eyes that mirrored Harry's, Arthur was a testament to the beauty of new beginnings and the shared features of a loving family.

As the days turned into weeks, Arthur became a living embodiment of joy. His laughter echoed through the halls, bringing a sense of completeness to your home. His tiny fingers wrapped around yours, and his coos seemed to create a melody that underscored the holiday season. The Christmas tree, adorned with ornaments collected over the years, now held a new significance as it watched over your growing family.

Harry handed you a delicately wrapped gift, a gleam of anticipation in his eyes. As Arthur lay peacefully in his arms, fast asleep on Harry's chest, you couldn't help but marvel at the scene of your little family by the tree. With a warm smile, you accepted the gift, eager to discover what Harry had chosen for you this Christmas.

Gently unwrapping the package, you revealed a small box, and Harry's eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"M’hope y’like it," he said, his voice soft. "S’something special."

Opening the box, you discovered a beautifully crafted bracelet, adorned with a charm that held Arthur's birthstone. Your eyes widened in awe as you traced your fingers over the delicate piece of jewelry.

"Harry, it's stunning," you exclaimed, your heart swelling with emotion.

Harry grinned, a mixture of relief and joy evident in his expression.

"I wanted y’to have something to always carry a piece of Arthur with you," he explained, his voice tender. "His birthstone seemed like the perfect way t’capture the magic f’the day he came into our lives."

You carefully fastened the bracelet around your wrist, the cool metal contrasting with the warmth of the moment.

"It's perfect, Harry. Thank you," you whispered, your gaze lifting to meet his. In that shared glance, you saw the depth of his love and the significance of the thoughtful gift.

As Arthur continued to slumber on Harry's chest, the three of you remained nestled by the Christmas tree.

"I wanted this Christmas to be extra special," Harry admitted, running his fingers through Arthur's soft curls. "With our little family, it already is."

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Harry's cheek.

"It's more than special, it's perfect," you assured him, your heart overflowing with gratitude for the thoughtful gesture and the love that enveloped you.

December 25th, 2023.

n the soft glow of the eighth Christmas lights, the air was filled with the warmth of shared love and the laughter of family. Under the twinkling tree, you, Harry, and your one-year-old son Arthur created a cozy scene.

Arthur, a complete daddy's boy, nestled on Harry's lap in his pajamas, his messy curls adding an adorable touch to the festive atmosphere.

As you handed Harry his gift, a smile played on your lips, anticipating the joy of the moment.

"This one's from both of us," you said, the excitement palpable in your voice. Arthur, sensing the festive spirit, wiggled in Harry's lap, his eyes wide with curiosity.

Harry's eyes twinkled as he took the gift, Arthur's little hands immediately reaching out to help unwrap it.

"Alright, little buddy, let's see what mama got me," Harry chuckled, sharing a conspiratorial glance with Arthur.

The room echoed with the sounds of paper rustling and Arthur's gleeful laughter.

As Harry unwrapped the present, revealing the photo book filled with memories, his eyes widened in surprise.

"S’this...?" he began, his voice catching with emotion. You nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips, and Harry flipped the cover open to the first page.

The journey through time commenced with the first date, captured in a candid snapshot that froze the excitement of a budding romance.

"Wow, look at us," Harry chuckled, his fingers gently tracing the image. "Seems like a lifetime ago."

The pages turned, unveiling moments etched in your shared history— the first picture together back in 2015, the laughter and love evident in the captured smiles.

"Remember this?" you asked, a fondness in your voice.

As the pages continued to unfold, Harry's eyes moved to the night he proposed on Christmas Day back in 2018.

"That was the best Christmas ever," he reminisced, his gaze lingering on the image of that magical moment.

Arthur glanced at the photos in the book and , began hitting the pages, yelling "Dada" with infectious joy as he recognized the familiar face.

The journey of the photo book brought forth the day Arthur was born, a pivotal chapter that transformed your lives.

"Look at him, our little guy," Harry exclaimed, a proud smile on his face as Arthur gleefully pointed at pictures of his dada. "S’grown so much."

Amidst the turning pages, the room resonated with laughter, nostalgia, and the shared joy of reliving cherished memories.

"Y’captured every milestone, every smile," Harry remarked, his eyes expressing a depth of gratitude.

Arthur, fully engrossed in the photo book, continued hitting the pages with exuberance.

"Dada! Dada!" he repeated, his small hands reaching out as if trying to touch the images of his father.

As the journey through the photo book neared its end, Harry's eyes were filled with a mixture of love and awe.

"S’is the most thoughtful gift," he said, pulling you into a tender embrace.

"Thank you f’capturing our story."

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azsazz · 10 months ago

Text

Dozen Roses & a Six Pack

Small Town!Cassian x Archeron!Sister Reader

Summary: More heartbreak for small town Cassian because I just can't stop. Based off of the song Dozen Roses & a Six Pack by Cole Swindell.

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 1,300

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Cassian sighs when he hits the red light on the corner of Main Street.

He stares up at the crimson sign staring at him, taunting him, laughing at him.

He wants to pound his fists against the fucking steering wheel. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near this fucking town right now, not on a Friday night, just getting off of work and waiting for all of the drunks of this shithole town to meander their way down here.

Especially not after last night.

His eyes are gritty with exhaustion, fingers blackened by the oil and dirt of his job, permanently embedded underneath his fingernails. His hair was pulled tightly from his face this morning, but now, after eight hours of hard labor, it’s greasy and messy, falling out from the hair tie barely holding it together. He’s so fucking tired. He hadn’t slept at all last night, stomach twisted with worry and his mind running rampant with thoughts of you.

A pink neon light flickering on in a window to his right catches his attention, ripping his eyes from the stoplight. Flower Shop is written in curly letters, his mine perking up at the idea, calling his name.

When the light turns green he rolls his rusted Bronco through the intersection and pulls it into the ten minute parking spot out front. He cranks the driver’s window up and shuts the engine off, tipping his head back against the seat as the sting returns to his eyes.

This might be his worst idea yet.

It takes a lot more effort than he’d like to lug his body from the car. The streets are quiet for the moment, but they won’t be soon.

He rounds the front of the car, muttering to himself as he makes his way to the door of the shop. “Please don’t be here, please don’t be here—”

The bell jingles as he pulls the door open, stepping inside. The scent of the variety of colorful flowers surrounding him hits him like a truck, thick and heavy in the back of his throat. Pinks, purples, reds, greens…every color he can imagine in different shapes, lengths, and sizes are scattered everywhere. It’s nearly overwhelming. Would be if he didn't know what you liked.

His breath catches in his throat when the young woman working in the shop is called out of the back room by the chime of the bell on the door. His steps falter as he approaches the counter, heart squeezing in his chest in a repeat of the worst pain he’s ever felt in his entire life.

“Hey, Lanie,” he greets, forcing a small smile onto his lips. He wants to turn around and run right out of this fucking shop because looking at Elain Archeron reminds him too much of you.

She offers a gentle smile—one that he doesn’t feel like he deserves—in return. “Hey, Cassian. How are you doing?”

He shrugs a little, swallowing against the tightness of his throat. If he answers it will either be a lie or a beg, so he keeps quiet about that.

Elain offers a knowing look in return. Her big doe eyes are swimming with pity, and Cassian forces his gaze away.

“Can I please have a dozen red, long stemmed roses?” he asks, already reaching for his wallet.

“Sure. I’ll pick out the best ones that we’ve got,” Elain answers, already darting off to the refrigerator where the flowers are kept.

He waits, staring at a spot on the counter, wondering if this is a mistake. He could walk right out that door while Elain is distracted. The bell will alert her of his cowardly departure but he’d already be in his car by then, peeling down the street like hell is at his wheels.

His heart aches in his chest, and he waits.

“How do these look?” She asks when she comes back, holding out the bouquet she’s wrapped and ready to go. There’s a ribbon tied around the stems, holding them all together. It’s your favorite color, too. Of course, Elain would make them look perfect for you, and it’s not the first time she’s helped arrange a bouquet of flowers for you.

“Just perfect,” he answers, though it doesn’t sound as cheerful as he wants. He gives Elain an apologetic look and hands over his card, relieving her of the flowers. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Elain chirps. Always so happy, she is. Why weren’t you ever this content to be in this town? He flinches a little at the thought, biting the inside of his cheek as he returns his credit card to his pocket and signs the receipt. “Hey, Cassian,” she calls when he’s turned away to leave. Cassian looks over his shoulder, at Elain whose eyes have gone hard. He should run, probably. But instead of saying something similar to the way Nesta had chewed him out, she says, “I really think you still have a chance.”

There’s a rock in his throat as he stares her down. The nicest of the four Archeron sisters is rooting for him. Nesta has clearly chosen a side, going to bat for you when she heard the news and ran into Cassian at the grocery store. Feyre’s on the fence about all of it, not wanting to choose a side at all. He’s sure that if Rhysand came back from New York and had faith in him, she would agree.

Cassian nods gratefully at her. He really shouldn’t get his hopes up because he remembers the finality in your tone all too easily from last night. The way you’d had tears running down your face. Your words were shaking but honest and there was no amount of pleading or promises from him that could get you to stay.

The roses burn a hole in the side of his head as he pulls out of the parking spot and back into the street, steadily filling with cars from people getting off work.

Wrapped perfectly, they’re perched in his passenger seat, the seat belt fit snugly around them. That feeling creeps up Cassian’s throat again, the nervous one that has him tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in hopes of releasing the sudden energy his mind’s creating, thinking about you.

He’s almost out of town and then maybe he can relax. He’ll hide up in his apartment, because no one ever comes around that part of town. It’s the perfect solitude.

He stops at the stop sign. On the corner is the local liquor store, sign pinned up in the window reading Coldest Beer in Town. Cassian swallows. He is thirsty, and the beer will only give him the confidence he needs when he inevitably chooses to make that phone call.

Coward, his mind screams, as he pulls into the parking lot. Screaming at him as he picks up a six pack, screaming at him when he pays for it and the bottles clank together when he sets it on his seat and makes his way home.

His mind is still a mess when he sits at his table, staring at the roses and beer, how the roses won’t be enough if you pick up the phone, if you forgive him, and the beer might not be enough, if you don’t.

Finally, Cassian picks up his phone, pressing the only number he has favorited, that little star in the corner reminding him of the relationship that shined so bright before he fucked it all up.

He presses your name, the contact picture updated to one of the most recent ones he can’t stop staring at when he’s alone in his bed at night and all he can think about is you.

Cassian holds his breath as the phone rings.

And rings.

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