#3635 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sinsofnivan · 4 months ago

Note

I know you have a ton of requests, and you also just finished one for me lol. But whenever you’re up to it I think a hunter krauser chasing down his prey and “punishing” them for getting caught would be interesting hehe, something along those lines <3

F.I.A. = fucked in action?! — JACK KRAUSER x YOU — SMUT!

krauser GIF belongs to: eurodynamic. | divider GIF belongs to kdanie.

SUMMARY: "this has nothing to do with them. i'm a free man who made my choice!" leon tanks a deadly roundhouse straight on his jaw. the three of you hear an audible sickening crack! as leon was sent flying. before he could further hurt your partner, you don't hesitate, nor feel the fear; you leaped at krauser from behind, locking his head in place with a headlock. baby eagle's voice calls you both from the other side of the exit, and leon forcefully lifts himself off the ground. he's clearly torn between saving you, or keeping baby eagle safe. "y/n!" you hiss through grit teeth. "go, just go! i can take him!" he easily slams your body on the stone floor, ready to pursue leon—but you . . you just had to cut him on the side of his leg with a knife, didn't you? tilting his head down, he clicked his tongue disappointingly. “fine. i'll deal with you first.”

TAGS: fem bodied reader, yandere krauser, feral krauser, dubious consent, chasing, SLIGHTLY horror, he hasn't mutated here but he's infected, is it really public sex when no one's around, tinkering with canon a bit, breeding kink, edging, unsafe places to have sex?????, kidnapping, "bad end", sorry leon stans he gets cucked here

WORD COUNT: 3635

A/N: what if i said this was a part two of this krauser fic? :smirk_cat: p.s. this is set in the first scene where you fight krauser/where luis dies. but instead of luis, you take his place AND don't die, because plot armour.

WARNING: this fic contains dark content. viewer discretion is heavily, heavily advised.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

your ear is ringing, and your head is fucking throbbing. you feel like all of the breath in you was knocked out after krauser slammed you on the ground. he won't lie, he's very impressed, seeing you get back up like it was nothing. it was a harsh body slam, after all.

your ear is ringing, and your head is fucking throbbing. the ground is cold and rough against your skin, and it feels like all of the air in your lungs have been knocked out of you. krauser had just slammed you on the floor, but you stagger back on your feet like it was nothing. he's impressed. very impressed.

"one hell of a reunion, huh? just like old times,"

krauser chuckled, his shadow ominously towering over you. this prick is waiting, daring for you to get back on your feet. "yeah. you weren't . . trying to kill me back then," you charge at him without warning, but krauser quickly shuts it down; every hook and jab are caught with his forearms.

"i'm not trying to kill you, sweets. you're the one coming at me," his cockiness never changed. your dynamics never changed. he was always mocking you. underestimating you. how couldn't he? you liked acting strong, and he liked putting you in your place. "i must say. i'm very proud of you. you've made it far, if you're assigned with that rookie with the bowl-cu—,"

"just shut up and fight!"

he clicked his tongue. "i won't fight you. do you wanna die?" you unsheathed your knife, and his golden brows narrowed at you. "if you won't, i will." you no longer wait or hesitate, driving forward and slashing in a lethal curve. he was quicker, however, deflecting your attack with his own blade; your daggers locked against each other with a clang, every collision of sharp ends ignited short-lived sparks.

krauser seems very hell-bent on not fighting you. every reckless, desperate swing is met with a repelling slash. it didn't take long for him to he catch your wrist and disarm you. the knife clanks somewhere, forgotten.

"get off—!"

the back of your head gratingly meets the hard surface as he pinned you. you groaned, clearly pained. his breath fans over your bleeding lips. "i said . . " he snarled. "—i don't want to fight you." reiterates the former major. clenching a fist, you pound your knuckles against his ribs. "fuck you! i said—!" krauser groaned with every blow you landed on his side. "—get the fuck off of me!"

clearly, he's made of steel, as your futile punches had zero effect on him, aside from making him scowl. grabbed by your vest, you're hurled toward the opposite exit—far from where leon had just fled. "you fucking brat!" his angry voice booms around the room. "you don't get it, do you?" it's terrifying, seeing his shadow hover you like that. he's pissed, that much was obvious.

"you wanna stall me, right? keeping me busy while leon plays hero?"

you flinched when he reaches for you, bracing for a blow. but it never comes. instead, his hold only forces you to spring yourself back on your feet. the rest of your weapons, vest, gear—everything—are yanked off of your frame. you'd have protested, but his dagger's pressed onto your cheek. the tip threatens to sink into the soft flesh. he traces it down, down to your chin, neck. a red line follows the blade's path, but thankfully, no blood. "then stall me," he purred. "you have aaaaall my attention, sweets." the space between you narrows as krauser leans close. his warm breath tickles the skin under your ear.

"run, if that's what you need. make me work for it,"

a shudder runs through you as his tongue drags up the crook of your neck. "isn't that what you want?" krauser's not amused with your silence, a scowl contorting his scarred visage. he roughly guides—more like shoves, actually—you to the door forcefully, urging you to skitter away. "run. i'll even give you a headstart," his muscular arms cross over his chest.

"but when i catch you—when, not if—you better start praying."

⟡

it's adrenaline that pushes you to go forward. you're exhausted, clearly. there wasn't many places to hide in the ruins of this castle—especially when your footprints on the sand expose you out in the open. the stone walls are rickety and decaying, and the dark didn't help at all. you practically throw yourself inside a crumbled archway, using the shadows to camouflage you. funny how you thought you've created distance between you, when his voice echoes not too far from you.

"run, y/n, run!"

that you did, even when you're stumbling in panic. the sand's all over your pants and sweaty skin. there's nowhere else to run to—with every turn blocked with piles of rubble, curse this fucking place!—but up, up this collapsed staircase; the first few steps have caved in, and you had to pull yourself up with all your strength. you groaned in struggle, hooking a leg up when the ledge is within reach. you hoped he wouldn't hear you.

the breeze is a relief, almost like a reward, as it caressed your cheek. for once, you're given the chance to catch a breather. you tread higher up, only to find that the staircase leads to fucking nowhere but a leap into the abyss. the connecting ramp was clearly destroyed. "fuck."

you tread back down, scanning your surroundings. there must be another exit somewhere—a trapdoor, ladder, anything. you no longer hear the thumping of his boots, or his menacing chuckles—and you're not sure if you should be scared of that or not. squinting, you spot a small opening near the base of the wall. the area's dark, and almost concealed by debris. it's small, but should be big enough for you to squeeze in. him stripping away your gear probably increased your chances.

"don't let me catch you, y/n!"

an instinctive jolt rushes through you. he's near. too near for your liking. "what's the plan, huh! gonna stay up there?" no, you weren't. you took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for the jump. before you could hear him utter another word, you're throwing yourself off the ledge. sure, it was a little higher than you calculated in your head but—

"eugh!"

you hit the ground in a crouch. at least you heard nothing crack. pain seers in your knees and legs, but you swallow it, forcing yourself to get up. the crevice was right there. you sprinted, jumping over a broken, rusty gate, ducking under wooden beams. your frame drops to the floor, hurriefly pushing yourself into the opening. there's little room to move, but you if you just wriggled into it close enough you could—

a squeal—your squeal—echoes around the ruins, feeling a strong grip wrapping around your ankle. you're dragged out from your last chance of escape, and carelessly flipped over to your back. you're caged between krauser’s familiar, built arms, and you wanted nothing more than to punch the shit-eating grin off his face.

"caught you."

his knees are keeping your legs apart whilst he hovered over your body. you're just as feisty and stubborn as he expected, watching you intently as you wriggled. "let go! let me go!" his muscular chest's hammered with weak, frenzied hits. "hey, hey—hey!" he's not hurting you, but god, you were pissing him off. "stop fucking squirming, you bratty little—hey!" it all happened so fast—a palm on your cheek, and his scarred lips pressed onto yours. this fucker's kissing you—and you, you're . .

kissing him back, of course.

it's passionate, charged with frustration. his other hand collects both your wrists, pinning them up above your head. you bite his lip, and he only growls in response. you hated how you actually missed this idiot. missed how his lips devoured yours. missed how he practically shoved his tongue into your mouth. your lungs ached, and in mere seconds, you're out of breath; it's instinct to gasp for air, but you can't exactly do that mid-liplock. canting your head to the side, it's your best attempt in breaking the kiss. but krauser, he's persistent. he's chasing your mouth. starved, deprived of your pretty lips.

blood rushes back to your dexterity as he frees your wrists. despite this, you don't wriggle. you don't even push him off. instead, your hands are yanking off his stupid beret, frantically undoing his tactical vest. krauser's none the wiser, breaking the kiss so he could raise his arms and toss away the garment. but he can't keep his hands off of you for more than a minute, and you feel him tugging on the edges of your compression shirt. your eyes widen.

"no, don't fucking—!"

rrrrrriiip—!

⟡

the locality's echoing with your wanton cries, paired with krauser's grunts and the harsh plap! plap! plap! of your skins slapping against each other. "yeah, baby. i warned you, didn't i?" laughed krauser. "now here you are, getting fucked like a slut," his hips snapped against you harshly and cruelly. his eyes are only glued to your pretty face. a drooling, moaning mess. your clothes—what's left of them, anyways—are crumpled in your hand as the unwantedpleasure courses through you.

your back doesn't even feel the discomfort of the ground, or the aches in your body as krauser fucked you. he had that effect—making you fucking stupid. you hated it. hated him. "fuck you," you managed to croak out, and krauser punishing you with mean, forceful thrusts. but your words don't phase him, not one bit. if anything, it made his cock twitch as he watched you squirm; watched your pretty cunt struggle to take him. it might be lack of foreplay, or might just be your imagination, but he feels bigger. thicker. veinier.

"what was that?"

he picks up the pace of his speed. from hard and fast to brutal and ferocious. the only words—comprehensible words—you could utter out was his name. "go on. what were you saying?" "fuuuck . . f, fuck—!" your body arched, holding onto his biceps automatically. "hate you—hate you, jack. hate you," you say as your legs wrap around him. "i know, baby. i know you do," he cooed, groping one of your tits; feeling the pink nub rouse under the pads of his fingers.

the added sensation makes you shudder, goosebumps pricking your skin. "but i don't care," you wince as his fingers dig into your waist, sheathing himself to the hilt; he's so ridiculously deep, and you forgot just how he could easily make a visible bulge swell in your lower abdomen. fuck—the way your eyes widened almost makes him bust.

"because," a hand clamps firmly over your mouth, and he starts to rut into you again. your moans are muted by his palm. "because—," seizing one leg, he drapes it up his shoulder closed the gap between your bodies. you tried to pry his hand away, but he only continues to ram your pretty pussy in response. "i know she loves me," now that you were effectively silenced, you could both hear the squelch of your creamy cunt better. "mhhf . . hff . . !"

he takes pleasure in breaking you, especially when you make it too fucking easy.

"you're so fucking messy. fuck," krauser feels his eyes wanting to roll back. but he can't miss this sight of you. not again. spit is leaking, smearing all over your chin. but you can't help it, you poor thing—it just feels too fucking good. his cock's hitting all the right spots, your cervix—stretching you out so painfully good. his stamina was unmatched, too. he's built for this. for you. built to rearrange your insides, to fuck you stupid. "you seem awfully quiet, sweets. what's the matter?" you're pelvic to pelvic, no space left between your sweaty bodies. "jack got your tongue?"

krauser laughs at your pathetic, muffled whimpers whilst he fucked you. so adorable, submissive under his mercy, branded with his canines. he missed this. missed you. "keep running—umff . . that fucking . . bratty little mouth—hngg, fuck—of yours . . " your pelvis bucks against the roll of his hips; his warning punctuated with mind-numbing slams. "see where that gets you, huh?" you're brimming with euphoria, because of him. your cunt's fucking quivering, because of him. you're long due to show him some gratitude.

a gasp escapes you when krauser finally retreats his hand from your mouth. as expected, it's covered in your saliva. a tight coil forms in your stomach, it's coming so quickly, and krauser knew from the moment you couldn't keep your hips still. "cumming? already?" you nodded pathetically, and krauser chuckles at the stupefied look on your face. you're starting to feel lightheaded. dizzy. the pleasure is overwhelming and ridiculously addictive. your orgasm was right there, just a few more snapping of his hips and then you'll be —

your eyes—which you hadn't realized were closed—had just flashed open, as an obnoxious and familiar ring reverberates in the area. beside you, actually.

shit.

"oh?"

shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit—

clarity fills that emptying head of yours, and you slap his arm in panic. your radio was within an arm's reach. within krauser's reach, and a mischievous grin finds its way onto krauser's handsome face. your orgasm quickly dies down, and you whined, squirming yet feeling your cunt spasm. your body had a knack for bertraying you, huh?

"let's give this rookie a little show, shall we?"

"no, no, don't—!"

you don't see where krauser positions the radio, and you don't wanna know. you needed to get your head back in the game, and get this big brute off of y—

"y/n!? y/n, are you there?!"

both your legs are now in krauser’s hold, and you tried to squirm when he pressed the second one to your chest, too. “leo—ooooh—♡!?” your voice fails you, as krauser begins to pummel into you again. “don’t you fucking dare,” krauser locks you in place, his body pinning your legs up and securing you in a mean mating press. you recognize that look on his face—angry. possessive. "jack, wait, wai—!"

he wastes no seconds in fucking you hard, ensuring the head of his cock’s grazing over that sensitive, spongy nub again and again. your eyes are rolling back, and you just can't bring yourself to tell him to stop. "she's busy, leon. can't you hear that?" krauser gruffly coos, fucking you ferociously. the speed his hips are going—it's inhuman. you can barely stay lucid.

“what’re you doing to her?! if you've hurt her, i swear to—!"

humiliation seeps through your body as you couldn't control your whimpers. leon could hear it. hell, everyone could hear it. "hurt? bitch please, rookie. listen to her," krauser shuts up for a moment, highlighting your mewls. "does she sound hurt to you? c'mon, sweets. tell him," you feel him cage your head with his arms, face buried in the crook of your neck and effectively trapping you. he's hitting deeper—you don't know how, but he does—the tip nudging at your womb again and again.

“oh god—oh god," you sobbed, holding on to the blonde; his skin decorated with your claws. "he's . . he's not hurting— not hurting me," krauser lets out a feral groan, feeling your leaking pussy twitch. "you're tightening up, babe. didn't know you were into . . ah . . hnngg—. . fuck . . something like this," krauser feels his own spit dribble down his chin. he could feel every ounce of his weariness, especially in his hips, but fuck—the pleasure that you gave him made up for all the wrong things in the world.

"y/n, i'll be right there, i'll find you, i promise."

no . . no. he can't. leon can't take you away from him.

the thrusts that followed became hateful. he fucked you like he hated you. "tell him—tell him to leave you," he growled. "now. or i won't make you fucking cum," you squealed when his teeth sink into your skin. it's unfair that he expects that from you! "n, no—, please . . " you managed to utter out. "just go, please . . oh, fuck—?!" you feel the exact moment when krauser finally bullies his tip past the tender barrier flesh of your cervix. krauser lets out a guttural sound, a shiver running down his back as his orgasm comes ridiculously close.

"just let her go, krauser!"

krauser only laughs in between heavy panting, tilting his head up so his voice would be more audible. "let her go?" krauser cradled your face, a thumb tracing the edges of your glistening lips. "you can't let go of someone who doesn't want to leave," 'specially when his cock's splitting you open so so good! you can't get enough of him . . god, your pussy's fuckin' clenchin' down on him so fucking nicely.

"y/n, if you can hear me—don't let him break you!"

leon's become irrelevant to you, in your stupefied state. the only thing that mattered was krauser—this cock stretching you. krauser clicked his tongue. "did y'hear that, baby? or are you too fucking cockdrunk to even hear him?" "a, aaahn . . ♡ w, what?" you didn't even register leon's voice, not when krauser did everything he could to successfully fuck you stupid. thinking was difficult—'specially when it's easier to just let your mouth run. when it's just easier to moan, to let your cunt take all of him as he pounded you in a crazed manner. it was so easy to slip in and slide out of you, easy to coax out such beautiful noises despite how uncouth you are.

the coil in krauser's stomach jus' keeps tightening and tightening. he's sloppier with the pistoning of his hips, but he needs to cum. needs to fucking creampie you. and he can feel it too, with how much your pretty cunt's pulsating around him. how your moans have picked up in pitch. "gonna cum, slut?" he whispered. you nodded vigorously. "do you deserve it, huh?" he whispered in your ear.

"yes—! yes, god . . please. pleasepleaseplease—wanna cum," it was impossible to buck your hips, but if you could, you damn well would. "gonna . . argh . . gonna let me cum inside you, y/n?" sweat drips from krauser's forehead, feeling his own release creeping in. "yes! yes—yes, please. jus' need to cum. please, please,♡ . ." you dumbly plead, krauser realizes that you'll just about do anythin' as long as you get to cum—much to his glee.

"you're real nasty, sweets. askin' the enemy to fuckin' fill you up,"

just a few more thrusts and you'll be spritzin' your filthy juices on him. but his thrusts come to a complete halt, all of his girth in you and stuffing you completely full as ropes of his thick, warm cum floods your womb. it automatically spills, overflowing and leaking from your creampied cunt, droplets of white slowly oozing out and dripping to your ass. "y/n . . y/n . . please—fuck . . love your cunt. love you . . " krauser's mindlessly babbling. "go 'head, cum for me, c'mooooon . . fuck, fuck!"

overstimulation makes him quiver, makes him whine. but he needs you to cum, needs you to squirt for him and rub in leon's face his victory. "h, haaahh . . 'm cumming. fuckfuckfuckfuck— oh god—♡!" he feels how your cunt's spasmin' for him, how you're gushing all over him and soaking him with your juices. krauser brings his lips to yours, kissing you as he helps you ride out your high. you were barely kissing him back, the best you can do was suck on his tongue in your fucked out state. "mhff . . " he hummed, lazily devouring your mouth.

krauser grinned against the kiss, letting your legs down and rest on his sides; and krauser chuckles when he sees how they were visibly shaking. you whine when he slowly slips out from your cunt, and he can't help but admire the mess he made out of you. your gaping hole, twitching whilst cum slowly dripped out . . it's as beautiful as he remembers it. weariness is taking a toll on you, and you can no longer control how your eyes are slowly fluttering shut. the rest is a blur, and you only hear leon's voice echo in your ears.

"don't worry, y/n! i'm coming for you!"

wondering why it became so cold all of a sudden, you open your eyes. krauser's lifted himself away from your writhing form. you watch him crush the walkie with just his hand, a soft crunch filling the silence before he lets its pieces clatter on the floor. "rookie's wasting his time," he laments, crouching over you and stroking your cheek.

"you're not goin' anywhere. gonna take good care of you, y/n."

extended ending:

"the tracker said she should be right . . "

lifting his gaze from his watch, leon climbs over a broken, rusted gate.

"here."

but no you. just the shredded fabric of your shirt and what remains of your walkie. "you sure? that doesn't look like our amiga," luis crouches over to pick something up. first, the shredded cloth. second, a red, blinking something. "ella no está aquí. i'm sorry, leon," leon snatches it out of luis's hand. [ she's not here. i'm sorry, leon. ] "dammit!"

in the distance is the familiar thrumming sound of a helicopter and its blades, disturbing the silence and the stillness as they both feel the rumbling in the ground. both men wordlessly and hurriedly sprint towards the direction of the chopper, jumping over collapsed beams and debris, and it didn't take long for them to spot the familiar, muscular build of the former military man. his back was adorned with red scratches and of course, you—specifically your arms—as you draped limply on his shoulder.

"krauser!"

krauser turns, looking over his unoccupied shoulder with the most bored look on his face. "you never quit, do you?" he scoffed, observing leon's movement closely. before he could draw his gun, krauser's already tossing over a flash grenade, and its detached pin with it. leon and luis shield their eyes as the flash temporarily disorients them both.

"you won't get away with this!"

"oh, but i will. besides, she's better off with me,"

by the time they had composed themselves, the chopper's flying off—and you with it.

end.

dedicated to: @gremlinfuck A/N: sorry if it's not how you envisioned itfskjdskfjsdkjf . i'm sorry TT

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idkyetxoxo · 6 months ago

Text

Ten | Enchanted | Aemond Targaryen

Word count - 3635

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!), strong language

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I entered the grand banquet hall with the kind of confidence that made every head turn, my gown flowing around me like a stream of liquid silk.

Each step I took was deliberate, each rustle of fabric intentional, and as the chandeliers cast their glittering light across the room, it felt as if the jewels that adorned my dress were announcing my arrival.

I had no need to speak—eyes followed me, whispers hummed in my wake. I was the centre of attention, and I revelled in it.

I spotted my brother, Nymor, across the room, deep in conversation with his usual entourage, a grin tugging at his lips as he entertained them.

With a mischievous smile, I slipped through the crowd unnoticed, weaving between nobles and lords who paused their chatter to stare as I passed.

As I reached Nymor, I crept up behind him and swiftly covered his eyes with my hands.

"Guess who," I purred, letting the words drip with playful mischief.

He chuckled, not even missing a beat. "Ah, my ever-annoying little sister, always making a dramatic entrance."

I gasped, though the exaggerated sound was more teasing than insulted. I swatted his shoulder. "Little? How dare you! I am the star of this show, Nymor."

He threw his head back with a hearty laugh, turning to pull me into a warm embrace, his arms wrapping around me like a protective shield.

He pressed a quick kiss to my temple, and when he drew back, his grin softened into something more affectionate.

"Always the star," he agreed, his eyes glinting with that familiar brotherly affection. "How long has it been since we've hosted something like this? It's almost as grand as the old days."

I raised an eyebrow, letting my gaze sweep across the hall, which had been transformed into a glittering display of opulence.

Gold-trimmed tapestries draped the walls, candelabras flickered with delicate flames, and the banquet table groaned under the weight of lavish foods that would be the envy of any kingdom.

"Far too long," I replied, feigning indifference even as the sight thrilled me. "I do enjoy a spectacle now and then."

Nymor's smirk was laced with affection as he shook his head. "Oh, we know."

For a moment, we stood together, trading gossip about the guests, each one more extravagant than the last.

Our laughter mingled with the music, a shared sibling joy that momentarily made me forget about the weight of everything else. But that peace didn't last long.

Our father's deep voice cut through the air, breaking through the lively hum of the gathering.

"Let me steal your sister for a moment," he said, already slipping an arm around my waist, guiding me away from Nymor and the bustling crowd before I could protest.

Nymor bowed dramatically, grinning as he waved me off. "Of course, she's all yours."

As my father led me to a quieter corner of the hall, away from the prying eyes and curious stares of the guests, I could feel the tension rising in my chest.

I knew what this was about—the conversation that had been looming for weeks, ever-present, yet never fully addressed. Until now.

He turned to face me, his expression serious, his gaze searching my own as if trying to anticipate my answer before I even spoke.

"What is your decision?" His voice was quiet, but the weight of it was unmistakable.

No preamble. No flowery words to soften the blow. Just the question.

I met his eyes, a slow smile spreading across my lips, the kind that said I knew exactly what I was doing.

"I will do it," I said, my voice steady, the confidence in it unmistakable. "I will marry him."

For the briefest moment, my father's composure faltered—his eyebrows rose in surprise, though he quickly masked it.

"You are certain?" His voice, normally so controlled, wavered, as if he couldn't quite believe I had agreed.

"Father," I arched an eyebrow, letting the silence stretch between us for a heartbeat longer, "do you really think I'd agree to something I didn't want?"

My voice was calm, but there was a challenge hidden in my words. "I know what I'm doing. And I know exactly what I'm getting."

Relief washed over his face, his shoulders visibly relaxing. After a brief pause, he nodded, pride flickering in his eyes.

Without another word, he excused himself, leaving me standing alone, my decision made, my fate sealed.

I turned back toward the hall, and that's when I saw him—Aemond. His gaze was already on me, intense and unyielding.

He made his way through the crowd, cutting a path with that quiet, purposeful stride of his, and within moments, he was standing before me.

"You look..." he paused, his voice low and full of something darker, something deeper. "Exquisite."

His eyes roamed over me, a subtle tension between us that made the air feel heavier. "Every bit the princess you are."

I tilted my chin up slightly, letting my eyes sweep over him with the same intensity. "Naturally," I replied, my tone sharp with amusement. "I do aim to impress."

He gave me a look—one that lingered longer than it should have, something deeper than mere admiration flickering in his eye.

For a man as composed as Aemond, it was a rare slip, and it sent a thrill down my spine.

Was he... uncertain? Could it be that I, the prize he had long pursued, now made him nervous? How curious.

I smirked knowingly. He must have seen me speaking with my father earlier, must have felt the weight of the decision that had hung so heavily in the air between us.

He knew what was coming.

Before we could speak, my father's voice boomed across the hall, commanding immediate silence.

The energy shifted in an instant—the announcement, the moment everyone had been waiting for, was finally here.

"It brings me great joy," my father began, his voice filled with an unmistakable pride that made my chest tighten, "to announce a union at this farewell feast."

Whispers erupted like wildfire, spreading through the hall, crackling with anticipation as all eyes turned toward us. The entire room seemed to hold its breath.

My heart hammered in my chest, yet outwardly I remained poised—shoulders back, chin lifted, the epitome of regal composure as I awaited his next words.

"My daughter," he continued, his voice heavy with emotion that stirred the crowd, "the heart of Dorne and our cherished princess, has agreed to a union with Prince Aemond."

The room exploded into cheers. The sound surged through the grand hall, loud and jubilant, swelling and echoing like a wave that washed over everything.

King Viserys gave a slow nod of approval, his eyes shining with quiet pride, while laughter and applause echoed from every corner. But all of it became nothing more than a distant hum.

The world shrank until it was only Aemond and me, caught in the moment, as though the crowd itself had dissolved into mist.

Aemond's gaze was locked on mine, unblinking, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.

There was something in his eye now—something I hadn't expected to see. Love.

Not the calculating ambition I'd come to know, nor the guarded intensity he so often wore like armour, but raw, unguarded affection.

It softened his sharp features, lending a rare vulnerability to his normally impenetrable demeanour. It was startling, unfamiliar, and yet... so genuine.

"You said yes," he breathed, his voice low and filled with wonder, barely audible amidst the roars of celebration.

His gaze searched mine as if trying to anchor himself to the reality of it.

I leaned in, just close enough to feel the tension coil between us like an invisible thread.

My lips curled into a sly smile, one that I knew would make his pulse quicken. "I did. You didn't think I'd make it easy for you, did you?"

His lips twitched into a smile—rare, genuine, and brimming with affection. "Not for a second," he replied, the faintest trace of a laugh hidden in his voice.

For a fleeting moment, it felt as if the entire hall faded into nothingness.

The jubilant crowd, the clinking of goblets, the resounding music—all of it vanished, leaving only us.

Aemond and I, standing in the centre of the room as though the world itself had paused to acknowledge what we had become.

His hand found mine, his touch firm but tender, as though he feared I might slip away.

I allowed him to pull me toward the dance floor, though I made certain he knew—I was no delicate prize to be flaunted.

I was the prize he had fought for, and I would remind him of that with every step.

The crowd watched us as we moved together, though I hardly noticed their stares. It was just him and me, locked in a dance that wasn't just about movement, but about power and desire.

Every step was a test, a tease, a challenge.

He pulled me closer, his lips grazing my ear, his breath hot against my skin. "You drive me mad," he whispered, his voice rough, barely restrained.

A laugh escaped my lips, soft and teasing. "I know," I murmured back, letting my lips hover near his. "And yet, here you are."

His eye flashed with a hunger that was all too familiar, the kind that thrilled me to my core. "I always knew you'd make this difficult."

I smirked, leaning in so close that our lips nearly touched, though I denied him the satisfaction.

"Difficult?" I whispered, my voice laced with challenge. "Oh, Aemond, I haven't even begun."

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, sending a delicious shiver down my spine.

Without warning, he dipped me low, his hand tightening possessively at my waist, anchoring me to him. "You love driving me insane, don't you?"

My grin was wicked, my eyes gleaming with mischief. "Admit it, you wouldn't have it any other way."

His grip tightened, his eye burning with a mixture of amusement and need.

"Stay with me," he murmured, the command in his voice softened by the raw emotion underneath. "Challenge me. I want all of you—fierce and wild."

A fire ignited in me at his words, a blaze that mirrored the intensity in his gaze. "Oh, you'll have all of me," I promised, my voice sharp and electric. "And then some."

The music began to fade, but we remained entwined, our bodies still pressed together, refusing to part even as the final notes echoed through the hall.

The cheers of the crowd swirled around us, but we paid them no mind.

This wasn't just a dance—it was a declaration. Of love, yes, but also of defiance.

A silent understanding that we were two forces who had found their equal in one another, bound by something far more powerful than any title or crown.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the intensity—a low, amused drawl. "Stop eye-fucking each other."

I blinked, startled out of the trance, and turned to find Meric standing close, his expression one of barely concealed amusement.

I let out a laugh, breaking the tension but not the connection.

"Don't be jealous, pretty boy," I shot back with a playful wink, watching as Meric rolled his eyes and disappeared back into the crowd, shaking his head.

Aemond's grip on me tightened immediately, his gaze dark and hungry once more. He pulled me back to him, the space between us vanishing in an instant.

"Shall we... escape?" he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, his voice a sultry promise.

I trailed my fingers down his chest, feeling the hard planes beneath the fabric, relishing the way his breath hitched at my touch.

"Depends on what you have in mind, my prince," I purred, my voice daring him to match my boldness.

"Everything," he whispered, his voice a velvet growl. "And then some."

With a laugh, I seized his hand, weaving us through the crowd with the ease of a queen leading her conquest.

Heads turned, but I didn't care—every step was deliberate, every glance shared between us crackling with unspoken promises.

There was no hesitation, only the simmering heat that seemed to pull us closer with each stride.

The moment we were alone, Aemond's restraint snapped. He shoved me against the wall, the force of it sending a delicious thrill through my body.

His lips collided with mine, fierce and demanding, the kiss bruising, claiming—each movement slow but devastating, as if he sought to consume every part of me.

I met him with equal fire, refusing to yield, letting my desire match his intensity.

His hands roamed my body with a raw, almost desperate need, each touch branding me, leaving sparks of heat under my skin.

But I wasn't about to let him control everything.

Breathless, I pushed him back, my heart racing as I locked eyes with him, my gaze a smouldering challenge.

"Come," I commanded, voice low and dripping with intent.

I didn't wait for him to respond, grabbing his wrist and dragging him towards my chambers. There was no choice but to follow.

As soon as the door slammed shut behind us, all pretence of restraint crumbled.

Desire ignited between us like wildfire, a blur of frantic touches and desperate kisses, hands grasping, pulling, tearing.

Every kiss was a battle for dominance, every moan a declaration of victory. The sound of our ragged whispers and gasps filled the room, thick with the tension that crackled in the air like a storm ready to break.

We were relentless—neither willing to yield, both pushing each other to the brink.

It was raw, primal, bodies locked in a fierce dance for control, the pressure building higher and higher until sanity itself threatened to snap.

Aemond's lips descended down my body, leaving a blazing trail of fire in their wake, each kiss a demand, an unspoken command for my surrender.

But surrender wasn't part of my plan. Not yet.

In a swift move, I flipped us, pinning him beneath me, catching him off guard. His eyes widened with surprise, but I didn't give him a chance to recover.

With a wicked grin, I straddled him, sinking down onto him with reckless abandon, the heat between us flaring, untamed and insatiable.

"Fuck," he groaned, the sound deep and guttural, his hands flying to my hips, desperate to gain some control as I began to move, riding him with wild, relentless rhythm.

Every thrust brought us closer to that dangerous precipice, the one that promised no return.

His grip tightened, fingers digging into my skin, leaving bruises I knew would last long after this moment. He tried to steady me, to regain even the slightest hint of dominance, but I wasn't about to give him that satisfaction.

Not now. Not when I had him exactly where I wanted him.

"You feel... incredible," he gasped, his voice ragged as his hips thrust upward in a desperate attempt to meet my pace, to match the fevered rhythm I set.

I laughed, breathless, wild, the sound tumbling from my lips as I rocked harder against him, driving us both closer to the edge.

My body moved with reckless abandon, each movement deliberate, every bounce designed to push him deeper, to bring us closer to the brink of madness.

"I know, darling," I whispered, my voice a seductive purr as I leaned down, our mouths just a breath apart, my gaze never leaving his.

With a roguish smile, I closed the distance, crashing my lips against his in a savage, hungry kiss.

My teeth grazed his lower lip, biting down just enough to elicit a sharp gasp from him. "I know."

The world around us ceased to exist—no walls, no room, just us, lost in a whirlwind of desire and heat, moving together in perfect, chaotic harmony.

The storm between us raged, wild and untamed, dragging us under its relentless force, pushing us to the edge of sanity until there was nothing left but the heat, the hunger, and the desperate need to consume one another.

Finally, the storm broke, and we collapsed onto the bed, bodies tangled together, breathless and spent.

The moonlight spilt through the window, casting a silvery glow over our dishevelled bodies and the twisted sheets, still damp from our passion.

The silence that followed was thick with satisfaction, but the tension between us remained, a heady charge that lingered in the air as if the night itself wasn't done with us yet.

Even as we lay there, hearts still racing, the storm between us had merely been tempered—not extinguished.

And in the quiet aftermath, I could feel it—waiting, ready to ignite once again.

I turned my head, watching him as he lay beside me, his chest still heaving from the frenzy we'd just shared.

There was something different about him now—stripped of the armour that he so carefully wore around others.

He lay bare, both in body and in spirit, his pale hair fanned across the pillows like a fallen angel.

His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, lost in thought, but when our eyes finally met, a flash of something raw flickered across his face. Vulnerability, perhaps?

It was a side of him few ever saw. A smile tugged at my lips as I realized that in this moment, I had done the impossible: I had undone the great Prince Aemond Targaryen.

"You're staring," I teased, my voice cutting through the stillness like a blade, sultry and amused.

I propped myself up on one elbow, letting my gaze drink him in.

His chest rose and fell, his muscles taut beneath his smooth skin, yet there was something soft in the way he looked at me, a quiet reverence I wasn't used to seeing in him.

"I thought I'd worn you out," I said with a grin, letting the words linger like a challenge.

He scoffed, but the sound was tinged with heat, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk.

"Not even close," he replied, his voice low and dangerous.

Slowly, deliberately, he sat up. The movement was fluid, feline—charged with a barely contained intensity that made my breath catch.

He propped himself against the headboard, his gaze locked on mine, unwavering, consuming.

His hand reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from my face, the touch slow, lingering as though he was memorizing the moment.

His fingers traced the curve of my jaw, his eyes dark with something deeper than lust, something that made my pulse quicken.

It was almost reverent, the way he touched me. As if I were something sacred.

"You're fierce," he murmured, his voice gravelly, every word carrying a weight that sank into my skin, igniting a fire within me. "You challenge me, push me... you make me question everything I thought I knew about myself."

His confession hung between us, heavy and raw, the vulnerability in his words startling.

This wasn't the arrogant prince everyone else saw. This was Aemond, undone, laying bare the truth he rarely shared.

He was used to power, to control—and I was the one force he couldn't predict, couldn't conquer.

"No one's ever done that before," he continued, his voice dropping lower, almost as if the admission was foreign to him like he couldn't quite believe the truth himself.

His gaze bored into mine, searching, desperate for something he had never asked for before. "You've enchanted me in a way I didn't think possible."

A soft laugh escaped me, though I felt the warmth spreading through my chest at his words.

"Enchanted?" I arched a brow, the sharp grin on my lips betraying my amusement. "You make it sound like I've cast a spell on you."

He chuckled a deep, throaty sound that sent a shiver racing down my spine. It was rare to hear him laugh, even rarer to see him so unguarded.

For just a moment, his stoic features softened, his expression almost boyish—a glimpse of the man beneath the warrior.

"Perhaps you have," he said, the sincerity in his voice catching me off guard.

His eye softened as he looked at me, the intensity simmering into something deeper. "I never thought I would meet someone who could make me feel like this. But you... you've shattered every wall I've built."

The weight of his words hung in the air, electric and charged. His forehead rested gently against mine, our breaths mingling in the fragile space between us.

The closeness was intoxicating like the air itself was thick with the tension that stretched between us—unbreakable, undeniable.

There was no escaping it. His presence wrapped around me, a storm of need and obsession, yet I wasn't swept away. I met his gaze, fierce and unyielding.

I wasn't some fragile thing to be consumed. I was the storm, and he was the one caught in it.

His hand slid to the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair as he pulled me closer, the space between us shrinking to a breath.

His lips hovered just above mine, teasing, the heat of his breath making my pulse quicken.

The tension was unbearable, the hunger between us like a live wire, buzzing, sparking.

"You say I've enchanted you," I murmured, my voice a low, daring whisper. I let my lips graze his, barely touching, teasing him with what I knew he craved.

"But it's you, Aemond. You are the one who can't look away."

His grip tightened, his fingers digging into my skin with a possessiveness that sent a thrill racing through me.

His eye darkened, filled with hunger and something deeper—something fierce and consuming, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

"Maybe," he whispered, his voice thick with want, his lips brushing mine in the barest of touches, enough to send a shockwave through me. "But if that's true, then I never want to break free."

And in that moment, I knew it wasn't just lust that tied him to me—it was obsession.

A fire that burned for me alone, wild and insatiable. And I was more than willing to let it consume us both.

A/n - Last long chapter to tie it all up but I still have a cute little epilogue to post! This was so so fun to write and I'm super grateful for everyone who's read it and said anything kind about it <3

Enchanted tag list - @mamawiggers1980 @shilphy87 @esposadomd @targaryendestiel @deepeststarlightmoon

@thebirdandthebee @queen-of-elves @believeinthefireflies95 @veesuguru

#house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd one shot #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfic #team green #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #prince aemond #aemond fanfiction #prince aemond targaryen #house of the dragon aemond

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hometoursandotherstuff · 1 year ago

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Spectacular 1968 home perched on a rocky cliff in Big Sur, California. "Taktsang Big Sur" was originally inspired by a monastery high in the Himalayas of Bhutan, and later extensively remodeled by Big Sur architect Mickey Muennig. 2bds, 2ba, $25M.

Really, for $25M, I would rather have something like this than some fussy estate.

Very comfy and cozy with beautiful views inside and out.

Dining area with a view, plus a door to the patio.

Beautiful large kitchen with a fireplace and a view. Look at the unique ceiling.

On the 2nd level there's a great ceiling and family areas, plus a view of the main floor from the mezzanine.

The view is even better on the upper floor.

The open primary bedroom on the mezzanine.

There's a cave-like entrance to this bedroom with a fireplace. It looks like a covered outdoor patio.

Bath with a view.

Isn't this wonderful. Almost feels like you're on the deck of a ferry boat.

The 1.50 acre property has fabulous gardens and outdoor spaces.

Love these lighted stairs.

They lead to this sitting area above the sea.

So pretty, isn't it?

What a cool house.

#zen homes #unique homes #unusual homes #ocean view homes #rustic homes #houses #house tours #home tour

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hermesserpent-stuff · 4 days ago

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Chapters: 3/? Fandom: X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men Evolution (Cartoon) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Remy Lebeau & Todd Tolansky Characters: Todd Tolansky, Remy LeBeau Additional Tags: Depression, Angst, Hurt Remy LeBeau, Catholicism Summary:

Remy is banished from New Orleans for an undefined amount of time. He is stuck running a Guild coffee shop in Bayville and struggles with the weight of guilt and loneliness.

Then he meets a few people and things might start turning around for him.

#remy lebeau #gambit #ao3 #creeping darkness au #todd tolansky #x men evolution #toad

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jadoue1999 · 9 months ago

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The monsters in the shadows

Part 1 Part 2

Note: Hey guys!! Here is the first part of my fae!Steve and Vampire Eddie story! I had to split it in two parts because of how long the story is but the next part should be posted on Tuesday. I hope you enjoy it!

Summary:

“Hey there, big boy,” he says, trying to coax a reaction out of his prisoner.

“Hi,” simply answers Harrington. There’s something weird with the teen. His voice sounds different from what he remembers it to be; less pitchy, more authoritative. Kas feels obligated to listen. Moreover, Harrington looks… Different, taller, his features are sharper than usual. His eyes feel like they're piercing whatever soul he has left. He doesn’t focus on that, charting the changes to his recent transformation.

Somewhere far within himself, he notices Harrington’s neck, it’s smooth and unblemished, and yet something tells him that the strangulation scar should still be there.

Or: Eddie wakes up as a monster, but it seems like he may not be the only one.

Words: 3635

Part 1

The day Eddie Munson dies, it’s not the end. Well, it is for Eddie, but not for what now resides in his body.

He calls himself Kas.

Kas is Creel’s loyal soldier. He starts out without a name, and one cause: killing anyone that ventures too close to the gates. This task is easily completed, thanks to his now increased strength, speed, and agility. He does so well in fact that he is promoted in no time to be Creel’s right-hand man, and in the process, a deep part of him whispers his new name: Kas. He gains new abilities with his new rank, namely the ability to control the vines, the bats, and all the creatures connected to the hive mind.

The first time he sees someone from the gang Eddie used to consider his friend, he freezes. It’s Robin, the clumsy one, and she freezes too when they lock eyes. She eyes him up and down and notices his scarlet red eyes and his darkened fingers. There’s no mirror in the Upside Down, but Kas knows he looks like a corpse.

“Eddie?” Breathes out the girl. “Is that really you?”

He grins, showing his fangs and delights when she steps back in fear. “It’s Kas now, actually.”

Buckley takes a moment to gather her thoughts, but then, it’s all spilling out. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you survived! You have no idea how everyone’s been since you died. Dustin is a mess; he barely leaves his house and doesn’t talk to anyone. And Steve! He's bad too but you know him, he doesn’t show it. But not being able to save you, or Max is really taking a toll on him. I can see it in his eyes. And—”

“Buckley,” he interrupts, he’s heard enough. “Let me make something clear.”

He slams her against the tree, and she gasps out his name, his old name, like a plea.

“I told you, it’s Kas now, sweetheart.” He clasps a cold hand around her neck and squeezes slightly. Instead, he glares at her. “And I’m not coming back. I’m loyal to Lord Creel now. Loyal,” he insists, his voice surprisingly bitter. “As in: I would never abandon him to a painful and lonely death.”

He stares into her eyes and revels in the pain. It’s only now that he’s actually paying attention to her that he notices that there’s something strange about Robin. But no matter how hard he looks, he can’t quite put his finger on it. It’s like a form of energy, something far more dangerous than Creel, but he doesn’t know what it could be.

He’s still lost in his contemplations when she whispers. “We didn’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” he counters, his voice dripping with venom. His own anger surprises him but he’s quick to brush it off. “I’m letting you go, but I want you to give a message to Supergirl. Creel is giving her three days to surrender. If she doesn’t, he will make sure she watches as everyone she loves dies, starting with that boy she considers her brother.”

Robin is terrified, so terrified in fact that it takes her a few seconds for her to realize that he is not choking her anymore. Then, she wordlessly leaves, never taking her eyes off of him until she’s out of sight.

***

Nothing happens on the first day which infuriates Creel. You’d think that a guy in his late 30s, monstrous or not, would be able to control his temper, but he��s practically boiling with anger, which puts the whole hive mind into a snappy mood, Kas included. He patrols the gates to pass the time and kills a person or two who are stupid enough to get close. Nothing really happens on the first day; the second day though it’s different. On the second day, the vines alert him of a trespasser. Kas heads there, without hesitation, Creel’s anger still lingers in his mind and he’s looking forward to sinking his claws into something.

This “something” turns out to be none other than Steve Harrington himself.

He’s trapped in the vines; they have been pinned against a tree and Kas takes a moment to drink in the sight in front of him. Eddie Munson once had… maybe ‘crush’ is too strong of a word, but he certainly had a fascination for the young man. A little flame that could have become more had they given it the time and attention. Eddie Munson had trusted that Steve Harrington was good, but Kas knew better. Creel had shown him how many of his fellow soldiers had died by Harrington’s hands, showed him the murderous glint in his eyes whenever he threw himself in the line of fire to protect his kids, Kas had felt the swings of the nail bat, the hit of the fireworks, and the oar, and the way the Molotov cocktail had burned Creel’s flesh. Steve Harrington was not to be underestimated.

But right now, weaponless and restrained, the teen isn’t dangerous.

For the entire time, Kas has been staring. Harrington has stared right back. He seems… Curiously nonchalant about his situation. Even now that he stands in front of him, a predator, looking at its prey, Harrington isn’t even struggling. How peculiar.

“Hey there, big boy,” he says, trying to coax a reaction out of his prisoner.

Somewhere far within himself, he notices Harrington’s neck, it’s smooth and unblemished, and yet something tells him that the strangulation scar should still be there.

“You’re not the one that's supposed to surrender,” he grins, making sure to flash his fangs. Maybe he’d get to see Harrington scared.

The young man stares at him unimpressed. “I’m not surrendering, I want to make a deal with Creel.”

A deal? How interesting. “And what could you possibly offer that’s worth more than what Lord Creel has wanted for years?”

Despite the tightness of the vines, Harrington manages to straighten up. “That’s between Creel and I.”

Anger boils in his veins, more than just his master’s. “Whatever you want to tell him, you can tell me.”

“I need his word.”

“I am Creel’s right-hand man,” he spits out. “Speaking to me is like speaking to him.”

Harrington narrows his eyes at him and Kas can feel the sudden tension. “Is that so?”

Something about his demeanor screams ‘trap’ but it’s impossible, he’s the prisoner here, not him. “It is.”

“Give me your name,” orders the teen in a tone he’s never heard coming from him before. “Robin said you didn’t use Eddie anymore, so give me your true name.”

The air around them is vibrating with an indescribable intensity, similar to the energy before a particularly powerful storm. Every instinct in his body is screaming at him to be careful, but he doesn’t care. “Kas.”

Harrington grins, and his pupils shrink to slits. For less than a second, his whole face shifts. His mouth is filled with pointy teeth, his eyes are bigger, and his ears are pointier. Kas blinks, and Steve is back to normal, leaving him to wonder if he hallucinated the whole thing.

“Then you can accept a deal on Creel’s behalf, and it being as valid as if he made it himself?”

“Yes,” he answers sharply.

The teen looks satisfied. “Good,” he grins. “I want to settle this petty fight once and for all. So, here’s my deal: I fight against Creel’s champion, no weapons. A fight until someone bleeds. One drop, no need for more bloodshed.”

Kas considers the deal before pouting. “And what does the winner get?”

“If I win, Creel has to leave Hawkins, the world, and, most importantly, Eleven alone. He cannot send any of his monsters in his place to do his bidding either. And I want him to free Maxine Mayfield’s mind. If Creel wins, he gets Hawkins, but the children, namely, Maxine Mayfield, Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair, Erica Sinclair, Will Byers, Mike Wheeler, and Eleven are under my protection.”

Kas scoffs. “And what makes you think you could protect them? You couldn’t protect poor little Eddie.”

He sees the dark glint in Harrington’s eyes, warning him to back off. “I’m not worried about appearances anymore.”

There’s a weight attached to these words. Kas can’t shake the feeling that the game has shifted. He knows that should make him at least fearful, but he can’t figure out why.

“Do we have a deal?” Asks Harrington. He looks smug and Kas wants nothing more than to wipe his smirk off his face. He decides to humor him, for old time's sake. Harrington probably doesn’t know that he’s Creel’s champion and even if he did, the guy couldn’t put up a decent fight against the bats, he’s not going to last against the newly improved him.

“Sure,” he grins, showing his fangs for good measure. “You have a deal.”

Harrington’s face cracks into that uncanny smile again, and Kas has trouble connecting this face with the worry-filled teenager dotting over the children that had charmed Eddie a lifetime ago.

“Good. Take me to Creel.”

It sounds a hell of a lot like an order, so he decides to be petty. He orders the vines to retreat, and he barely gives the teen enough time to take a few steps on his own before he orders a smaller vine to coil around his wrists. The plant is small enough that Kas can cut it off, and the hive mind feels no pain. Even dead, though, it’s still wrapped tight enough to keep the teen moderately restrained.

Harrington raises an unimpressed eyebrow at his predicament. “Seriously?”

Now, it’s his turn to smile smugly. “Prisoners don't get a choice on how we get there.” Then he invades his space, like Eddie had in the stolen RV, and says in the same tone. “Plus, bondage looks good on you, big boy.”

As expected, Harrington flushes red, but there’s also anger in his eyes. “You don’t get to call me that. Only he could.”

“Aw,” he pouts mockingly. “Did I hit a sensitive subject?”

The brunette doesn’t meet his eyes, and it’s all he needs to realize something else. He lets out a dramatic gasp. “Don’t tell me that King Steve actually had a crush on Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson?” Steve is fuming, but Kas sees right through it. “You did!”

“Doesn’t matter,” grumbles the teen. Kas delights in the frustration he feels coming off of him in waves.

“If it makes it any better, he did too,” he adds, knowing I'll only add fuel to the fire. He sighs exaggeratingly. “Then again, he didn’t think he could be loved. And it never would’ve worked out between the two of you. Especially since the… You know the ‘leaving him for dead’ part.”

“Back off,” snaps Harrington, and strangely enough, he doesn’t mind changing the subject.

Instead, he grabs the brunette by his shoulder and shoves him forward. “Walk.”

They walk in silence for a while, neither of them wants to be the one to break the peace. If he used his powers, they’d be there in less than five minutes, but he wants Steve to imagine what’s going to happen, he wants him to simmer in his own fears until they get there. He doesn’t seem very scared, though. In fact, he even looks annoyed. They pass through a clearing full of Demobats, some snarl at the trapped teen, but most either stay back or plainly fly away.

“They remember you,” he realizes, as he feels the anger and fear of the flock.

“Ozzy, right?” answers Harrington, with no amusement in his voice. There’s a few seconds of tension before he speaks again. “We came back for you. Just three days later, you weren’t there.”

Some deep part of him melts at the confession, overjoyed to know that he hadn’t been forgotten about. His friends had come back for him. But Kas quickly shoves that feeling as far as he can, instead, choosing to turn the knife in the wound. “You were too late, again.”

Harrington quickly shoots him a dirty look. “When did you get so mean? Dustin would be really sad to see you like this.”

He doesn’t like how guilty that remark makes him feel. An echo of Eddie and Dustin’s last conversation echoes through his mind.

“I love you, man,” Eddie chokes through blood and tears.

Dustin’s voice trembles. “I love you too.”

Kas snarls as he chases the memory away. He’s tired of the mind games Harrington is trying to pull on him. “That little shit abandoned me just like the rest of you did.” He shoves his prisoner forward, delighting in the way that he stumbles, even if it looks forced. “Keep annoying me like that, and I’m gagging you.”

“Geez, sensitive much?” counters the teen, but there’s a noticeable triumph in his voice.

They keep walking, in silence this time, and Kas can’t help the feeling that he’s playing right into Harrington’s hand.

***

Harrington still isn’t scared when the imposing house gradually appears on the horizon. He keeps his cool and walks straight ahead. It almost feels like the teen is leading Kas to the house. Suddenly overcome with anger, he grabs the brunette’s shoulder, keeping a tight hold on his shirt.

“I lead the way,” he hisses.

Harrington doesn’t answer, but he does roll his eyes. They walk up the stairs that lead to the attic, and he can see the teen trying to avoid the vines that slowly extend towards him, curious at the new visitor. His helplessness gives him great satisfaction. When they finally reach Lord Creel, the creature is already waiting for him.

And he’s angry.

“Kas,” he says, his voice dripping with venom. “Why did you bring that thing here?”

Creel’s disgust toward humans is something he’s well aware of, but never had he referred to them as ‘things’ before. As he approaches his master, he knows he’s done something wrong. In a last ditch effort to save himself, he kicks Harrington behind the knees to make him kneel. The impact of his bone on wood resonates loudly around them, and Kas is relieved when the brunette doesn’t try to get up. An unruly prisoner is the last thing he needs right now.

“I found him close to the East gate.”

“Your orders were clear,” growls Creel. “So why is he not dead?

That’s a good question actually. He should’ve gotten rid of the team's protector. So why didn’t he? “I… I thought he’d make a good hostage.”

“I do not need a hostage; I need Eleven’s head on a stick.”

Kas’ stomach drops when Harrington speaks up, a chuckle in his voice. “You’ll never have her.”

Creel's head snaps down, his face slowly turning into an expression of annoyance. “Oh? And why is that?”

“Because we made a deal,” smugly answers the teen. He quickly explains the terms they’ve agreed to, and Creel’s face darkens.

“I did not agree to this deal, it is not valid.”

He may be kneeling, but Steve speaks with the confidence of someone who’s already won. “No, but your right-hand man did. And he, like everything else linked through the hive mind, is an extension of you. Therefore, the deal is valid.”

Creel’s burning rage is suddenly on him, and his dead heart jumps in his chest. “M— Master, it’s just a deal, why is it so important?” he continues to try to justify himself, barely registering when Harrington slowly gets to his feet. Kas does notice how quickly Creel is losing whatever cool he has left.

“It matters because he’s a fae!” His master explodes.

A deep part of him demands attention at the mention of fae. It whispers of how dangerous they are, that he needs to be careful with his words because faes are tricksters. But most importantly, it warns him to never make a deal with them because the price will always be higher than expected. And Kas just made a deal with Harrington. He looks at the teen, he’s staring right back at him. He’s got that twisted face again, except it’s so much worse than before because now he knows that he’s not hallucinating. His teeth look even pointier, and his eyes glint with what seems to be malice. One of his long nails slices right through the vines keeping his wrists bound and he exaggeratingly rolls his shoulders.

“Cat’s out of the bag.” His face morphs back to the more human-looking one, but Kas can still see the small details that don’t quite add up. “Let’s get this over with. The kids are waiting for me.” Steve turns to him and winks, but all Kas can see are the not-quite-round pupils. “Ready, champion?”

Uh. So, Harrington knew about him. No big deal he’s still stronger than him… Right?

Creel doesn’t say anything, but Kas can still feel his threat linger in the air. Win, or die. He swipes first, trying to catch the teen off guard, but he simply moves out of the way. Kas tries again, and again, but Harrington dodges him every time. It looks all too easy for him, almost like he’s playing a game. It’s at that moment that he remembers his earlier words.

“I’m not worried about appearances anymore.”

Was this what he meant? Was this the shift he felt?

Suddenly a long nail slices his cheek open, making thick, black blood drip down his face. Kas looks at Harrington, whose face hides in no way his satisfaction at his victory. “I win.”

The house shakes with Creel's anger. He towers over Harrington, who doesn’t even seem worried. “You may have won this fight, but who says I’ll let you leave? Maybe the deal is broken if you die.”

Anger flashes across Steve’s features and the illusion of humanity breaks for a split second. “Would you really risk breaking a deal with a fae? He spits out his tone firm and unwavering. “Not even you would be that stupid.”

Kas is surprised to see actual fear in Creel's eyes. It lasts barely a second, but it’s enough to know that everyone has seen it. His master tries to hold onto his powerful façade and stares down Harrington in an attempt to intimidate him. But if Kas remembered one thing from when he was alive, it’s that Steve Harrington doesn’t get intimidated easily.

As expected, Creel loses the battle and lets out a deep sigh. “Go,” he orders.

Steve smiles and starts to head out, Kas following behind him. He’s not sure why he’s doing it, it’s just something he feels like he’s supposed to do.

“Not you, Kas,” Creel sneers, and he knows he’s fucked. Because he didn’t just lose a fight, he’d also inadvertently foiled all of his master’s plans for revenge. And now he’s going to pay for his mistake. Kas is sure that he’s not going to kill him, but he’s going to make him wish he did. He walks to his master with his head down, he’s terrified, but he knows there’s nothing he can do.

“Kas will be coming with me,” interrupts Harrington. He places himself between him and Creel and the creature stares at him with eyes full of fury.

“And why would he do that? I made him who he is, he belongs to me.”

The teen is not deterred. “Does he?” He challenges. “Reach into the hive mind, he may be a part of you, but is he still yours?”

Lord Creel doesn’t say anything and Kas fears that he might call Harrington’s bluff. He has to be bluffing, right? His master eventually closes his eyes and concentrates. It takes barely 10 seconds before he reopens them with burning anger.

“What did you do?”

“Me? Nothing,” dismisses the brunette before gesturing towards Kas. “But your loyal soldier gave me his name. Willingly. That means you no longer have any claims to him.”

Creel roars in anger and lunges at Harrington. Vines goes to grab at him, but Steve doesn’t even flinch. However, his face darkens, and the temperature around them drops colder than Kas has ever felt it to be in this place.

“Attack me and see what happens,” hisses Harrington, his voice sharp and cutting. “This place has existed longer than you have, and it will exist long after you’re gone. Don’t make me speed up the process.”

Everything stills around them, and Creel seems to ponder on the words. He’s never seen him this powerless before. He’s not sure he likes it.

“You wouldn’t dare,” taunts Creel.

“Try me.” Harrington doesn’t move. “You have hurt people I love; you have killed innocents by the dozen. I am giving you the chance to walk away and leave us alone. Do not waste it.”

“I will spend the rest of my life, trying to find loopholes,” threatens the creature, his former master.

Steve simply smiles at him but there’s no amusement in his face. “I’ll be waiting.” He then turns to him and nods his head to the side. “Come on, time to go home.”

Harrington starts walking and that familiar feeling, that one that made him follow in the first place is back, except this time he knows what it is: ownership. He is not Creel’s anymore, but he is not free, because he gave his name to Harrington.

And Harrington kills monsters.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #fae steve harrington #vampire eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #vecna stranger things #henry creel #robin buckley #steddie fic #steve and robin #stranger things fic #joe keery

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leeofthevoid · 1 year ago

Text

Did we or Did we not?

Part Two of Not so Meet-Cute

Farleigh x Reader

a/n: I did think about adding SMUT. I really did. I just don't have the heart to make half-assed SMUT scenes that people would dislike anyways, and I kind of wanted a Fluffy Farleigh fic that still had his usual sass. I love you all so much!

Word Count: 3635

Warnings: Explicit content, Mature Content, Strong Language, 16+

Annabel and India never gave up on your dating life, but you sure have for months now. It's just the same damn thing over and over again, and it was stupid. The boys are all okay at first, but then they disappear from the area. Farleigh swoops in and asks you to make out again, and you just entertain him. It sucks having to bruise your ego every now and then.

What's worse? Farleigh points that out whenever you two are on each other's nerves.

"Annabel and India won't stop setting me up for dates." You passively say while lying on his bed, his head on your stomach. He had your shared cigarette in between his fingers while chuckling. "It's getting sadder and sadder by the minute. Are you that desperate?"

You smack him on the forehead, earning a pinch on your thigh. "Farleigh!"

"What? You did it first." You rolled your eyes and stole the cigarette, inhaling deeply to calm your nerves. "I mean, did you tell them you want to stop?" He asked, raising his head to make eye contact for a split second before settling on your stomach again.

You puff out and sigh. "Well, that's the thing…I kind of don't want to stop? If you get to have sex, why can't I?"

"Because you don't want us to?"

"And get all your diseases? Bitch, please." You hear a low chuckle from him, reminding you that he is still the same American bitch you dislike. "But be honest, why do you not want to take it up a notch? Am I just your designated boob sucker? Or am I not too English for you? Oh, oh, oh! Maybe you prefer ugly men." You scoff and push his head off, but he is pretty adamant about lying down on it.

"Eugh, it's just weird, okay? You had your chance, but you blew it last year." You sat up and looked down at his stupid face.

"And why can't I have a second?" He mockingly fluttered his eyelashes. "Because you dragged me to your bed just because one of your little toys can't come in this morning." He scrunched up his nose and groaned, "Touché."

You push him off to stand and fix yourself in front of the mirror in his room, a burst of annoyance nagging at you when you see your reflection. "Farleigh! I said no fucking marks!" It was everywhere. On your neck, chest, back?! Not even a single place untouched by that little shit.

Farleigh walks up to you with a grin, placing his chin on your shoulder, hands wrapped around your waist. "I know a place I could put them where no one can see." He hummed. You rolled your eyes and shoved him away from you.

"You don't deserve it." He raised his eyebrows at you, leaning on the cabinet next to you and checking the time. "We have class, babes. Time for you to cover that up." He got a sweater from the cabinet, threw it at you, and fixed himself.

Another day, another regret of wearing a strapless top you had to cover because of Farleigh. What a dreadful day for fashion.

Walking down the hallway, India fell into step with you with another juicy gossip. She paused and looked at the sweater that clearly did not match the black pencil skirt and spiky boots you had going on. "Farleigh made you do his homework again?" You nodded and sighed.

"Babes, this is a sign to sit next to that smart kid in our class. He could totally at least get homework out of your hands." She had this impressed look on her face and linked her arm around yours. "Imagine the power couple of the year!"

"No way. Do you not notice how he picks his nose?" Farleigh pointed that out when the guy walked past you a few weeks back. "Oh. Ew, alright, never mind." She scrunched up her face and started to talk about the other guy.

It was a few hours after classes, and India had this giddy smile. She separated from you when you went to class and quickly looked for you when you were dismissed. "India, hiding something from me?" She giggled and walked you to a table with Annabel, a boy beside her. Oh fuck.

"And he just threw it?"

"Yes! He had this whole speech about being able to afford another one!"

You and Farleigh laugh while sitting on the bed of another house party you were dragged to. "There's no way he could replace that. You know that kid got here because his mother was hot?"

Your eyes grew big, and a gasp came out of your mouth. "No way!"

"Yes, way. One of the board members had a huge crush on her, and when she begged him, he didn't think twice." You both laugh as you gossip about that guy you had a terrible 'date' with three weeks back.

"I still can't get over how he insulted your sweater and my ring. He went on and on about how cheap the fabric was, how it washed out my 'beauty,' and how my ring seemed to have a fake red diamond." He gasped, eyes in disbelief. He sat crossed leg with a pillow he clutched tightly when you told him more about the disastrous date.

"Oh god, how dare he? That sweater probably costs more than his flat." He scoffs, clearly irritated by the dislike of his fashionable clothes. "I know right! You're horrible, but you at least have taste in clothes." You both burst out laughing, Farleigh shoving you while you tried to breathe.

"Fuuuuck! Annabel and India are such idiots. How could they not tell the fake Piaget he was flaunting." A sigh escaped your lips as you leaned back on the headboard. "Trust me, I've been to worse. I just didn't appreciate the casual flaunting and the insulting." Farleigh raised an eyebrow and scooted next to you to sit back. "He told me, "What is that bloody junk doing on your delicate hand? Someone must really hate you for giving you a fake." Like, seriously?"

Farleigh made an amused sound, and then a smirk followed. "The wicked witch and the fake ass bitch. Sounds meant to be." He smirked, earning him a ton of smacks and slaps. It ended up in you two play fighting, grunts, and victorious laughs tossed here and there. When you both settled, sprawled on the bed, heaving air, you got to thinking. "I need alcohol and a line or two…Maybe even a joint." Farleigh craned his neck to you and shuffled to stand up. "We're at a party for a reason; stand up, my dear! This party needs us!" You giggle and take the hand he outstretched to pull you up.

You were totaled, and the amount of things you took was wild. And you sure as hell did suffer so severely the next day. You wake up in someone else's bed, your head pounding and your body sore. Fuck, this soreness was definitely not from partying too hard. "Fuck!"

"Shut up." You shot your head to look at the space next to you, moving from under the covers to avoid the sun. You were too groggy to retaliate and can't even register your surroundings yet. It was just sore and not in a terrible way. Just the sore you get when you've spent the whole night having…Sex.

Fuck! The panic set in, and you checked under the covers. Yup, that is your naked body under there. What a fucking idiot, how could this happen? There were a ton of drinks, but were you that shitfaced you couldn't even remember?

You wasted no time pulling the covers to wake the stranger, which might have made your blood run cold.

"Ahhhhhh!" You couldn't stop screaming bloody murder when Farleigh shot up and looked around to check what the commotion was about. "What! What!"

"You!" You clutched the cover to your chest and threw pillows at him. "Farleigh, what the fuck is happening!"

He paused for a moment and then realized," Shit, how? When?"

"I don't know!"

"Did we…"

"I'm fucking sore, so yeah, we definitely did." He groaned and quickly got up to run into the bathroom, snagging his clothes from the floor on the way.

You huffed and pulled the covers up to look for your clothes, carefully picking them from the floor. Your legs were wobbly, but you could still wear your clothes again…Or what's left. There were weird tears on them, and you hated the party even more now. I guess you were glad to at least wake up in the familiar space of Farleigh's dorm room instead of the house where the party started.

You sat down on the bed again when he came out. "So…"

"Do you remember anything, Farleigh?" He sat down on his study chair, creaking under his weight. "I don't remember much, to be honest. I just remembered playing many games with Felix, and we absolutely crushed that idiot's ego. I saw you making out with two guys at once, too. Uhm…”

You choked, eyes widening, not believing the last thing you did. It may be best not to remember much. "I'm sore." He looked at you, and a slight smirk plastered his lips.

"Well, I'm going to take that as a compliment."

"Oh, shove off!" His face rested on the palm of his hand, looking as smug as ever. "As if you totally didn't imagine me as one of your gross professors, you weirdo."

"And you must have fantasized about being under one of Felix's blonde posh friends." Still triumphant as ever, this ass. "As if! Did you know Ellis didn't use deodorant until Felix gave him a spare? Or that Matthew doesn't bel-"

"Believe in condoms? Yes, I do. Little Matty wanted a piece of your man, but I refused." You can't help but crack a grin at his twisted form of acknowledgment that he was not an easy catch.

You wanted to look at him longer when his door suddenly opened, Felix crashing in, looking excited. "Holy fuck, Far. You guys were at it the whole night the fucking R.A. almost went in due to noise complaint." You sighed and sat up. "Felix, best to shut the door before telling your fun little story."

Felix chuckled and closed the door behind him, then sat on the floor, his body trying hard not to bombard you with gossip. "Holy shit, guys, one of the T.A.s went to the party, and the dude was a massive lightweight. Even dunked his head in the fountain on the way back just to wake him up." Farleigh barely listened, but you loved blackmail so much that you could not let it pass.

"I'm actually kind of interested as to how we fucked?" Farleiigh pointed at you and himself, getting even more excited that he had to stand up. "Okay, okay. So basically, you two were just partying and playing some games with us when India told her," He pointed at you, "To chug like, what? A whole bottle of Vodka! By the way, I respect you so much for that." You chuckle at his boyish daftness that you can't even comment.

"Then holy fuck! When we all got out of the party, Annabel and I were kind of doing our thing when Farleigh almost broke my door demanding for an extra condom!" Farleigh turned and massaged his temple. At the same time, he bit his lip in surprise. You could only cover your mouth to hide yours. "Holy shit! You guys went on for hours, and I had to switch locations because we could not get our thing going!" The annoying thing about Felix was that he was so passionate that even his arms could not stop moving to emphasize whatever he deemed interesting.

"Stop, stop, stop," Farleigh said, eyes shut and index fingers plugged in his ears. He's right. This was a ton of information on a Sunday morning.

"Felix, let's grab breakfast first. This is just a one-time thing; it won't happen again. Go and tell Annie we'll be at the café in a bit. "Alright, mate. See you later, wild ones."

A beat of silence finally returned to the room when you and Farleigh looked at each other. "See you later." He nodded, and you went to who knows where to get fresh air.

How did this happen? You guys promised to the one thing off-limits, and all crashed down in one night. Oh well, it won't happen again.

Right?

Farleigh was groaning beside you for the nth time while you gave him headache medication to ease up his pain. The class hasn't even started yet, but most of the students looked like they were about to pass out.

It was almost like the world hated you. You get your fix of sexual need, but the catch is you don't know how it went. The only thing you know is that you do it with Farleigh. Happens every two weeks.

Compared to India and Annabel, who was passed out in last night's clothes, you at least had the decency to change into new ones that were more decent but still screamed 'Hot bitch’.

"Babes, this lecture is killing me." You shake your head as he grumbles more about how he probably did all the work last night that's why you were in less pain. Little shit.

"Shut up, you little baby. We both know you're a whiney fuck that likes to be bottom." He shot you a glare and continued to silently nurse himself back to health. Silently whimpering while he basically put his whole body weight on you.

It felt weird. It was like the night you two do it, you can't remember a thing. He doesn't either. In fact, that bitch sometimes blames you for 'touching his beautiful body' like a dramatic fucker he is. It happens every two weeks, and at this point, you don't mind anymore.

From someone you hated so much, you two became closer friends than India ever was with you. Farleigh had all the gossip and snide remarks you never got from your girlfriends. You matched his energy and were very candor about the people he talks about.

Class ended and you had to wake Farleigh up. "Farleigh, wake up."

"No." He whined.

"And if I pour water on your new velvet shirt?"

His eyes shot up and sat back, glaring at you. "You'd never."

"I would." A smug look on your face as you stood up and followed the wave of students walking out the class.

Felix all texted you to meet up at the pub later that night. Farleigh decided to get ready together at your dorm, a decision you never had a chance to stop.

"Hey, Farleigh, do you think I'm sometimes trying too hard to get a guy?" He looked at your reflection as he was fixing his hair. "Don't we all try too hard?" He used his hands to make his curls more prominent and kept.

You creased your forehead, thinking too deeply enough to draw blood while biting down your bottom lip. "I mean…It just feels like I'm doing things to amuse you a lot. I feel like I gave up a long time ago."

He turned his head to look at you, stopping whatever he did and sighed. "Hey, not feeling like partying?" You nodded and sat on the bed, slumping your back. "No. I don't feel like doing anything much to be honest."

Farleigh's eyes flashed recognition, and he sat next to you, placing his head on yours. "It's your time of the month, isn't it?" Confusion shot in your mind but you still nodded. How the fuck did he know? "...How?" He chuckled and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. '"You get all sentimental and overthink. I'd rather stay in too. If you're not there, what's the point of being in a boring party." You don't know what wave of emotion came over you, but you felt so nice that tears welled up in your eyes.

In a twisted way, this idiot got to your heart in his own way. Without Felix or India to force you to be together in a room or a park date that they concocted just to play cupid. You liked seeing this side of him that was far from that asshole you met in first year.

You appreciated him so much that you were afraid of the possibility that the asshole got his second chance of 'shooting his shot'. He was too good to be true, and you didn't want to lose that. He was too important just for your measly feelings to ruin what you had.

Even after that whole ordeal, Farleigh became more attentive and he looked more beautiful in your eyes for some reason. He always makes time for you and was never shy to ask for your help in his essays and other things he knew you excelled at.

The one time you knew you were disgustingly in love with him was when you were at your weakest during the year. When your grandfather died.

He was so kind and so loving. He was the one who pushed you to still hangout with people so you won't die of loneliness in your dorm room. The one to lie next to you when you had to cry so much that you got sick at night. The one who took notes from your classes that you missed while you grieved. He was also kind enough to teach you about the rock tradition his family had, which helped you a ton.

He was just so imperfectly perfect.

When you finally got better, finished finals, and was in the time of the term to get ready for summer break, you had the courage to confess.

He lounged on your bed with that bitchy bored expression of his as you paced the room back and forth. "Baby, stop doing that and just tell me what's up. You're making me fucking dizzy, love." You stopped and rolled your eyes before sitting at the edge of the bed beside him.

"Farleigh, I have to tell you something. It's really important that you don't fucking make fun of me or else I will kill your whole family and leave the country afterwards." He crossed his arms over his chest and breathed out. "Go on then, I'm listening."

You paused and took out a small bottle of tequila, downing it quickly to gain some liquid courage that you badly needed. "Woah morning drinks already." You glared at him as he stuck his tongue out at you.

"So! Farleigh Start. You shitty bitch that replaced me with another person while we were on a date last year. The idiot that asks me to make-out with him that I can't say no because you're undeniably good. The asshole that I fight with all the time."

"Wow, it's like a proclamation of hate." You covered your hand on his running mouth while clearing your throat. "Farleigh…" He rolled his eyes and sat back. You removed your hand and slowly fidgeted with your sheets.

"Farleigh, I think I like you."

You ran all scenarios in your head for what reaction you will get but probably missed this one. He scoffed. The type of scoff that makes you think he knows for a long time now.

"Fucking finally." You gave him a confused look, he simply rolled his eyes keeping up with the bitchy act.

"Do you know how long I've been waiting for this? You know you're such an oblivious prick sometimes it hurts my head." You gave him a look while he went on, "Um…What the fuck?"

"Babes, everything I did for you. It was my shot to try and redeem myself for a second chance. The moment you called me out in that bathroom I realized what I lost." You smirked, "My beautiful face and striking personality?"

"That and… You're you. You don't try too hard. I did! I tried so fucking hard to actually get you to talk to me more. And you know what's worse? Kissing you makes it hard to kiss other people!"

You rolled your eyes yet again because it sounded way too condescending for someone who wants you to like them. Idiot.

"No, listen. You don't get it. Kissing you felt like something that wasn't lust or boredom. You knew how to kiss well and I was bewitched!"

"Exaggerating won't help your case after downplaying my confession." You crossed your leg over the other to add a bit more sass in your words.

"I like you too, Y/N. I like you so much that I stopped doing my American slut façade and just wanted to be there for you. Unlike Felix and my supposed family, I felt like I was seen for who I was."

It was touching and honest. You saw his eyes getting glossier while emphasizing his own twisted confession. You held his hand and kissed it. "You know. I'm not a jealous person, so I probably missed the part where you ask for forgiveness for doing the tango with other people."

"How could I when I do it with a ninety-year-old by soul bitch who had sex with me multiple times when we were black-out drunk." You smiled and pinched his cheeks hard.

"I hate you, Farleigh."

"I love you too." He said with a genuine smile.

You looked into his eyes and sighed. This asshole really made you do all that just to make you realize he liked you. What a prick.

But he's your prick now.

a/n: What if Farleigh Racer AU next?

#farleigh start #saltburn fics #farleigh x reader #farleigh x you #saltburn movie #felix catton #farleigh and you #save my love #deserves the world #ples send prompts

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