#going to be a week six and possibly a seven and an eight | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

grandline-fics · 14 days ago

Text

Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: It's Doflamingo so he's his own warning. Don't read if he's not someone you enjoy reading fics about. Talk/threat of violence but nothing too explicit. Enemies to Lovers. Soulmate! AU

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 3,350

A/N: It's been a while between being sick and trying to get more of the Valentines Event requests caught up on but I needed my Doffy fix after a draining week. I'm not too happy with the ending for this chapter but it does the job in leading us to the next part of the story. Hope you all enjoy and as always thank you for the support and response to this story.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI

——————

“You’re staring.” You spoke up from your place on the sofa, your eyes reading over the morning paper leisurely. For the most part you’d ignored the feeling of Doflamingo’s stare on you but now you decided to call attention to his behaviour seeing as it was unlike him.

“I can’t stop thinking about your face.” Immediately you turned your head to look at him peculiarly, eyebrow arching. This wasn’t his usual method of trying to get a reaction out of you. This seemed genuinely thoughtful. For a moment you observed him, watching him rest his chin on his had with his elbow propped up on the desk. Completely unmoving. With his dark glasses and relaxed breath anyone would have mistaken him for sleeping.

“Okay, this should be good” You mused, discarding your paper now that this seemed to be the main issue of the afternoon. Turning in the seat you faced him fully. “What about my face has you so thoughtful?”

“There’s still no mark.” He explained and you let out a loud sigh. Doflamingo couldn’t help but frown slightly at how annoyed you sounded. “What?”

“You’re still fixated on that? Have you ever considered that you might have a little bit of an obsessive personality?” You asked while getting to your feet. “It’s been days. If there was going to be a mark, it would have appeared already and like I told you the day it happened; I’m fine and it didn’t even hurt.”

“Regardless the fact is there should have been something. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Since when did anything with this whole soulmate thing make sense? Besides what would you have rather happen, Doffy?” You asked as you leant against the wall and stared blankly out the window while you listened to the Warlord turn in his chair to follow your movements. “Can’t you just be happy it happened this way? Otherwise you would have been pissed that a ‘lowly servant’ did what you haven’t been able to do yet. No mark means you can just act like it didn’t happen and we can continue as normal…or our version of normal at least.”

“That’s one way of looking at it…” Doflamingo hummed, leaning back in his seat to regard you carefully. “Still knowing what happened is a mystery. Is it possible that now being in the same room as the other makes us impervious to harm from others too?”

“Possibly.” You shrugged before letting out a small laugh. “Either that or I’m also soulmates with that servant.” At that you felt Doflamingo’s shadow looming over you and you tilted your head back to smirk at him, not surprised by his speed or sudden proximity. “Oh lighten up, I was joking. One soulmate is more than enough, especially a handful like you.”

“Handful? I’ll have you know I’ve been on my best behaviour.” Doflamingo chuckled, his previous annoyance at the reminder of the servant-who’d been smart enough to stay out of his way as well as yours- leaving swiftly the more he stared at your amused expression. He grinned as his lens-covered eyes drifted to your curved lips. “Really you should be more grateful.”

“Should I? I’ll take that into consideration but if memory serves I think I’ve been more than generous with my gratitude when you’ve actually been well behaved.” You informed him with a casual smile before looking back out the window while his grin grew. While there had been no more kisses shared between the two of you since that day, it was still fresh in both of your minds.

Apart from a few passing remarks and subtle glances there were no deeper conversations or direct attention called to the two kisses shared, because doing so would certainly mean having to face the fact that feelings were changing and had been for while. Luckily for you both the conversation changed when you stifled a long yawn and rubbed your neck. Feeling Doflamingo’s stare again you looked to him, seeing the grin had lessened, his jaw tight. “What?”

“Are you not sleeping again?” Doflamingo reached out and tucked his finger under your chin to coax you to look at him. Not unlike when he was looking for a mark, he stared over your features with intent scrutiny only this time he wasn’t fuelled with fury that someone could have hurt you.

“Took a little while to fall asleep.” You admitted, unbothered. “I woke up early too.” For some reason that didn’t seem to ease Doflamingo’s slight tension. Abruptly he moved his hand from your chin to lightly touch your forehead with the back of his hand. Confused, you pulled your head away from his fingers and looked at him curiously. “What’s up with you today?”

“Just checking.” Doflamingo answered, stepping away to return to his desk. Silently he was relieved to feel your temperature felt fine, the second you’d mentioned not sleeping well he couldn’t help but think of the last time you’d mentioned something similar. Try as he might, the unwanted image of your sick and weakened form lying in bed and struggling for breath still occurred in his thoughts every so often. This was the first time it’d happened while you were standing in front of him, healthy and thriving. Lifting a random missive he absently tried to focus on it but cast it aside just as fast as he’d picked it up, unwilling and unable to retain any of the words on the paper.

With a sigh he pinching the bridge of his nose and sat back again. You moved to the back of his seat and pushed it down, forcing it to recline at the lazy pace you’d set. When Doflamingo’s face was directly under yours you lightly tapped his forehead and waited to feel his stare from behind the dark lenses. “Same question to you; are you not sleeping?”

“Course I am.”

“Okay fine, I’ll rephrase it: have you been sleeping well?” You asked, refusing to believe his relaxed grin for a second.

“No, but then I never do.” Doflamingo chuckled, unbothered. He was used to his unrecommended sleeping habits that he’d had for countless years. Yes he found sleep, usually a couple hours at a time throughout the night with stretches of restlessness and tossing and turning sprinkled in between. Some nights he didn’t even sleep at all, deciding to just stay awake and work. It was very rare for him to have a full and restful night of uninterrupted slumber because almost without fail if he did fall asleep fast enough, some form of nightmare of his past or unsettled dreams that would swiftly wake him.

“What about when I fell asleep on you? Or when you had to hold me to ensure I slept?” You asked, the different incidences coming to your memory. “You seemed peaceful those times when I woke and you were still sleeping.” Doflamingo considered it for a minute. When you’d fallen asleep on him right here in the office because of heavy sleep deprivation, he had fallen asleep too not long after and awoken only when you did. Thinking back he had slept soundly then, just as he had when he’d held you to stop you feeling pain. Yes, he woke up throughout the night when the doctors came in to do their checks and apart from his vigilance on your changing condition he could silently admit in the sleep he had felt rested all the same. Doflamingo gave a small thoughtful hum and you smirked. “Regardless, your biggest issue is you’re too tense which is strange given how much you smile.”

“I’m not ‘too tense’ you’re imagining things.” Doflamingo chuckled, making a point to kick his feet up onto the desk and tuck his hands behind his head in a show of perfect ease. Still you stared at him expectantly and unconvinced.

“I felt your neck the day the door hit me-”

“-by the servant-” Doflamingo tried to interject but you continued over him.

“-and you were tense. Bet the rest of your back is just as bad if not worse.”

“I’m fine, I’m in perfect shape and able to rule the country and command my subordinates as effectively as I always have.” Doflamingo dismissed your words while you took a breath and stepped away from the back of his chair.

“Okay. Understood.” You said with a little too much sweetness and acceptance in your tone. Before you moved too far, Doflamingo’s hand caught your wrist, immediately suspicious. His distrust only grew when you looked down to smile at him innocently. “Yes?”

“What? Why’re you dropping it so easily?”

“Because unlike you I’m not obsessive?” You asked calmly, your smile unmoving. “I just know not to push these types of topics. Especially for fragile egos that don’t want to admit they were wrong. You say you’re not tense? Then you’re not tense.” Doflamingo bit back the urge to snap that he didn’t have a fragile ego. He saw the bait being dangled in front of him, he saw the dangerous but playful challenge in your stare. You wanted to play? Fine.

“I have no issue admitting I’m wrong when it actually happens, it’s just never happened of course but I welcome the opportunity.” He began smoothly, standing from his seat and releasing your wrist. “Go on then. Prove I’m too tense to sleep properly but even just trying is going to cost you.”

“What’s the price?” You asked warily, eyes narrowing at how smug he now seemed.

“You have to spend more time with the family for a whole week; at least one meal a day. Oh and you have to talk, no sitting in silence.” Immediately your expression tensed. Doflamingo was truly a bastard when he wanted to be and setting the cost this high for just an attempt was proof of that. Still if you could prove you were right and he was wrong that meant you got gloating rights for life. That would make enduring the company of his ‘family’ worth it. Resolve steeling you adopted your sweet smile once more and held out your hand to shake it. Doflamingo paused for the smallest moment, pleasantly surprised at your dedication and willingness to do what was necessary. Grinning he took your hand into his and shook it firmly.

————

You allowed Doflamingo time to see to his urgent matters of the day before working on proving your point. By midday he’d finished and found you in your room softly playing the violin to pass the time. At the sound of the door opening and closing behind him you played the last note and jerked your head towards the bed. “Lie down.”

“Someone’s eager.” Doflamingo chuckled and did as you said, not fully lying down until you sat down on the mattress beside him. Lightly you pushed his shoulder and made him settle onto his stomach. He folded his arms under one of the pillows and turned his head to the side to watch you.

Without hesitating you reached out, fingers moving against his neck and applying decent pressure against the knots you were right to assume were there. Slowly massaging and taking your time to work away the tension before moving on to his shoulders. Your lips quirked slightly when you felt Doflamingo sink a little more into the comfort of the mattress and heard his breathing shift into one of genuine calm. The tiny smile grew into a fully vindicated grin when you moved to the centre of his back where the largest knot of tensed muscle you’d felt yet was. Under your careful and diligent movements you heard a low, satisfied groan escape when it practically melted away. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were falling asleep…”

“So smug…annoying.” You couldn’t help but laugh at how his deep voice was now thick with grogginess. In a matter of seconds you removed the final point of tightness in his back and felt the subtle change and then heard the deep relaxed breaths as he fell over to sleep.

For hours there was no sign of Doflamingo in the palace. The servants and lower rank subordinates had initially been worried that their ruler was in his office, growing more and more uneasy that he could appear at any moment in a foul and murderous mood. If anything the silence was more stressful for them to contend with because they just had no way of knowing if Doflamingo was planning something and their imaginations immediately went to the most terrifying thoughts their creativity could conjure. It didn’t matter that you’d told them almost immediately that Doflamingo was just sleeping, they just couldn’t believe you and any that did at first, became distrustful when his rest stretched beyond the typical half hour he would normally have. It just seemed so unnatural to them.

When Doflamingo finally stirred he opened his eyes to the darkness of your room. Taking a long breath he rolled onto his back and slowly moved to sit up while his mind caught up to the current situation. This was the first time in a long time he’d actually slept for so long and so deeply. There had been no fitful dreams or nightmares, no slight disturbance or noise that would break through his subconscious and wake him. He felt rested and honestly he felt disgruntled because you were right. Looking around the room he saw you weren’t there and with a sigh he rose from the comfort of the bed and stepped out into the corridor, taking long casual strides towards the drawing room his family usually spent their time in before dinner.

Entering the room he surveyed the scene of his family interacting. Everything looked the same as he always found except for the unexpected sight of you sitting opposite Diamanté with a chess board between you both. Trebol stood oppressively close to his fellow elite officer, laughing at how the man hesitated to make his next move. You sat perfectly relaxed, your eyes only drifting from the board to meet Doflamingo’s gaze when he stepped into the room. Immediately the others sensed his presence and the conversations stopped, everyone looking to Doflamingo as he walked through the room, coming to a stop at the table and inspected the board. Immediately everyone else returned to their previous conversations, knowing not to mention their King’s absence for most of the day if he wasn’t going to. Diamanté was the first to address their master. “Dinner’s going to be ready soon, Doffy.”

“Good, I’m starving.” He grinned, looking to the officer. “What’s your next move Diamanté?”

“Don’t pressure him, he’s been stuck for ten minutes.” You finally spoke up to smile at the officer who’s mood had soured the longer the game had lasted because at first he believed you knew next to nothing about how to play. Doflamingo chuckled stepping around to stand behind your seat and watch. “Maybe a nap will help sharpen your mind? What do you think, Doffy?”

“Couldn’t do any harm.” Doflamingo grinned lightly squeezing your shoulder.

As agreed you joined the family for their dinner, your seat beside Doflamingo just as it had been during the pirate’s banquet so long ago. Just as you’d done while in the drawing room before Doflamingo woke up, you talked lightly with the family, engaged in conversation politely while also not being afraid of shutting them down when they overstepped in a comment or question you weren’t going to answer. You brought no attention to it but it did surprise you when they didn’t push or pry. When you shut those topics down, they swiftly moved to different conversations.

It wasn’t complete torture but you were still relieved when the meal was over and you were heading towards your room, hoping you got as good a night’s sleep as you’d helped Doflamingo get. A long yawn built in your chest and you covered your mouth as you reached for the door to your room, only to stop when Doflamingo spoke up. “So what meal are you going to join everyone for tomorrow?”

“Breakfast. Better to get it out of the way first.” You explained with a smile as Doflamingo laughed. You stood in the open doorway of your room but didn’t fully enter, facing the man with an expectant look. “I’m still waiting to hear something from you.”

“And that would be?” Doflamingo stared at you, head tilted slightly in curiosity.

“You said you had no issue admitting you were wrong when it happened. Come on then.” Doflamingo let out a small huff and you smirked knowing he needed a little push. “No, you’re right we shouldn’t keep this between us. Let’s save your declaration for tomorrow at breakfast with the rest of the family present? Good idea. Night, Doffy.” You stepped inside and prepared to close the door only to blink in mild surprise when Doflamingo had already stepped inside and braced his hand against the wood to prevent it from closing you off from him. His free hand slipped around your waist and pulled you forward.

“Fine.” Doflamingo uttered, a reluctant sigh building in his chest as he leant in. “You might have had a point and helped me sleep after all.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s a better way to phrase that sentiment.”

“So high maintenance…” Doflamingo tutted under his breath. “Fine. I was a little bit wrong.”

“So humble.” You smirked. “You’re welcome by the way.”

“You really are annoying when you’re smug. You know that?” Doflamingo chuckled, pressing a quick and unexpected kiss against your forehead before letting you go. “Go on, get to bed.”

————

Doflamingo was pleasantly surprised to find that you kept up your side of the deal without complaint for the full week. You interacted with the family as he’d requested you would and had at least one meal a day with the full family. The family itself never drew any attention to the development even when some did cast you a curious look when you entered the dining room for the chosen meal you’d attend for the day.

When the week was over he walked down the corridor and entered your room expecting to see you sitting at your table by the window. Instead he looked to see you still in bed, curled up against the covers and sleeping deeply. At the soft click of the door shutting he watched your eyes slowly crack open. Blearily you blinked and focused your gaze on his face. Yawning, you stretched out and pushed yourself to sit up in the bed. “Everyone missing me already?” You asked before stopping to yawn again. “Can’t they wait until lunchtime?”

“You’re going to continue dining with them?” Doflamingo asked as you relaxed against the pillows. He wasn’t expecting that.

“Seeing them try to work out why I’m there is entertaining. Might as well make the most out of their confusion while it lasts.” You shrugged lightly. Stretching one last time you reluctantly dragged yourself out of the bed, knowing that if you didn’t move now you would have probably risked falling to sleep again. Sitting down in your seat by the window, you said nothing as Doflamingo took his seat but you turned your head when he set a small envelope in front of you. You cast him a brief glance before lifting the envelope and opening it.

You pulled out the thick and expensive card and read it over with a confused frown. “What’s this?”

“My invite to another pointless gathering of the Grand Line’s rich and powerful. Want to go?”

“You said you hated these kinds of things. Pointless and boring, remember?”

“Yes, I did say that and I stand by it.” Doflamingo nodded. “However you said you’ve never gotten to experience this kind of thing as a guest. So, what do you say?”

You looked down at the invitation once more. It was tempting, you weren’t going to lie. Silently you chewed your lower lip for a moment as you considered it.

“When do we go?”

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya , @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut , @irumawife , @laidenbreecatchall , @redwolfxx , @jevoislesbrasdemer , @schanwow , @pao198391 , @glitchtricks94 , @nina-ya , @48daisies , @sagyunaro , @artemis162534 , @rosemary-lungs , @thecraftywriter , @rorozorolover

223 notes · View notes

chlmtsdoll · 9 months ago

Text

I WAS AN ANGEL

౨ৎ Paring: ballerina!reader x older!Art Donaldson/Patrick Zweig

౨ৎ Summary: it’s winter and your on vacation at a cabin locked away with Art and Patrick. Spending the weekend teasing the men till they’re wrapped into your alluring nature leads to you getting them exactly where you want

౨ৎ Word count: 10k - well yes, ur girl went crazy !

౨ৎ Warnings: smut ! threesome, p in v (unprotected) sex, age gap (reader early 20’s) older!Art and Patrick, inexperienced!reader, eventually filthiest filth, sugar baby!reader, mentions of Tashi, pet names, smoking (cigs), oral (m) receiving, fingering, porn with a lot of plot, petite!reader, size kink, corruption if you squint (it’s def there), teasing, fluff, a tad angst, so much praise kink, title based off Gods and Monsters by Lana Del Rey 🤍

౨ৎ Part one | two | three + more

The wind outside was frosted as it hit against the sealed windows of the cabin you’d been staying in for the weekend with no other than the only person you’d want to be cuddled up with on a cozy cabin trip in the hike of the woods on a winter like this one — accompanied by his best friend of course, Art and Patrick.

Tashi, making time for her off weekends of freedom being an underwhelming three times a year, was away with her daughter Lily on a girls scouting trip not too far by where you’d all been staying at in such a luxurious rental cabin.

And it really was the highest of class.

With eight bedrooms, each offering it’s own fireplace and balcony lookout to the fields of mountains and trees surrounding you. A beautiful avalanche of white dust covering trees was the scenery all around. You got to spend a week doing absolutely nothing but lying around the gorgeous place, and although the image of Tashi being uncomfortably out in the wilderness trying with all her dignity to get a signal to check her emails was a priceless sight to see — you knew that scoring such a win as to be stuck in winter paradise with two men near godly looking and over six foot walking around twenty four seven, was an opportunity you were never going to take advantage of.

It had been you and them watching movies all week. From silly romcoms down to chilling horror films that earned you the touch of Arts protective arm surrounding you as a shield, baking sweets with the blonde that was really overall unnecessary since the dozen of cupboards had been pre-stocked with all the foods and treats you could imagine before your arrival. But spending that time with him, laughing, and getting the tidy place all messy with cookie batter and themed frosting was worth it anyways. Getting closer than close. Falling head over heels for a man that had been someone else’s all while engaging in the most pompous wealthy people actives your friends back at the academy would of killed one another for. It was chimera.

And when it came to Patrick, although the two of you couldn’t quite be called the best of friends — Tashi had thought it would be better off if she reversed her approximation of keeping the two of you as separate as possible. Instead, you started spending even more time together. (Preoccupied of course) but settling the wall of any jealousy or tension between you both and the couple. And of course it probably would never be fully clear skies when Patrick was a man of such fiend for rivalry — even if for you, you’d just wanted him to like you deep down. And with the occasional bickering and obvious strive for Art and Tashi’s attention, you could now say the kinship between you and the tennis player wasn’t all bad for the time being.

It had been sunset when you were tidying up in the far end of the house that had been all yours as you glanced at yourself in the mirror of the grand bathroom. Bath tub behind you so large it could fit a party of ten at least.

You were braiding your hair into two dainty braids and your fingers worked quickly as you tied knots into little bows on the ends of your hair. Perfect and precious as ever you attempted yourself to be, getting ready for a dip in the hot tub on the patio Art had asked if you if you wanted to join him and Patrick — so of course you rushed to throw on your bikini. And just beneath you in the grand kitchen area, Art had been getting ready with his best friend to met you there themselves.

“Please ? I just wanna fuck her with the tutu on at least,” Patrick boasted to Art as he had been trying his hardest to bluntly ignore his friends comments about you, that had been in his perfect fashion of light hearted vulgarity.

“No.” Art replied giving the man nothing but an unbothered side eye as he searched the wet room they’d been in for a couple towels for the three of you, or at least you and himself since Patrick had been using the same one the entire time you’ve been there so far by choice.

“Come on,” the brunette laughed as he pushed Art in a way that was all too familiar to him, grinning widely as he burrowed in the fantasy of having solicited intercourse with you while his dear friend observed. “We’ll be stuck in this cabin together for the entire weekend, it’s bound to happen. You’ve been gettin’ virgin pussy all this time. I know you’re dying to share with me..”

“You say things like that and wonder why she doesn’t want to come near you.” Art chuckled, he shook his head at Patrick’s ignorance, “and you’ll probably just scare her away from wanting to participate in anything involving sex ever again, man. I just won’t let you overwhelm her, she’s still getting used to.. y’know-”

“Fucking?”

“Yes.”

“Well, your right, she’s only fucked you. So technically she’s still a virgin.” Patrick joked only to get under the blondes skin even more, and Art rolled his eyes away from Patrick’s obvious smirk.

“I could turn’er into a whole new woman.”

“You’re not touching her.” Art shrugged as he glanced at Patrick who wouldn’t give away the stupid grin on his face of wanting to cause nothing but foolery.

“I think you’re scared after I’m done with her she won’t wanna go back to you… so that’s why you gotta do it with me.” Patrick pokes Art in his exposed chest as they’d both been in nothing but their swim trunks. He looked down at the finger on his skin and then back up at Patrick’s face with a loose expression. Falling unconvinced.

“You know you wanna fuck her with me. See how she’ll react from the outside when someone else gets to make her cum.. it’ll be just like old times.” Patrick’s tone was laced with poison and desire the blonde would try to fight off till he ultimately couldn’t, grimace all over Patrick’s face as he described the image of you spread out for the two of them to enjoy, and Art would defend cutting the conversation short in response to an obvious tent forming in his trunks.

Art looked Patrick in the eyes as he called out for you,

“Baby, are you ready?”

“Yeah! Just a second!” You answered in chime.

Patrick couldn’t help but laugh in all seriousness at the fact that he had been this close to getting Art to submit to his desires and let him get his hands on you. When you had been so devoted to Art, and you had him wrapped around your finger, there was no way he didn’t think he couldn’t loosen the screws just enough by the time this little trip came to an end. He just had to keep trying, at the end of the day, it was all a game to him.

“keep dreaming. And grab the beer while your at it.” Art gave the man a generous pat on the back and sighed lightly with a fond but challenging smile as he walked around Patrick to the back door.

♡

When you had been pleased with your attire, you made your way down to the patio where you knew the two boys had been waiting for your arrival, in nothing but a strapy pink bikini underneath a bulky robe, you pushed the doors open to the nature and you’d been immediately hit with the brisk winter air — so thankful for the robe you’d decided to throw on, you scurried your way quickly to the steaming hot tub, and Art and Patrick’s eyes met your miniature figure skipping over.

“Cold, cold, cold, cold!” You pleaded as the air made you shake, and with a soft grin that turned into a laugh Art stood from the water he’d been adjacent in with Patrick to help you step into the tub, doing so you’d slipped your robe from your shoulders and let it fall as your smooth, shivering skin and dainty swimwear was revealed to the two.

“Careful, it’s pretty hot” Art chuckled as he held your delicate hand to guide you into the water.

“Good.” You breathed out as you settled in slowly, arms wrapped around yourself from the coldness and the steam hit your skin at the perfect rate — making you warm up from outside in. You let out a soft sigh as your body had released it’s tension. “Ahh”

Art’s sideways smirk was stuck to his face as he watched your adorable gesture already change the environment when you made your way over — and he couldn’t say he didn’t catch the eyes Patrick had been giving your oblivious state as you brought yourself to the two men in the littlest yet flattering bikini they’d maybe ever seen. Smile on your face like you’d hadn’t know how goddamn phenomenal you looked right then. Art still had a hand out to you as you’d both settled into the almost boiling water at this point, florescent lights from the jets hitting each of your faces even under the gloominess of the sky.

“Is that the set I got you ?” Art grinned at the way your bikini top had decorated your chest in a painfully perfect way. Dior. Your smile has been shy but girlish, you nodded coyly but with a soft giggle. You’d been waiting for him to notice notice that you were being patient on the perfect opportunity to bring it out of your wardrobe.

“Yeah. You like?” Your smile had widened as the blonde couldn’t have looked prettier right then, hair damp from the steam of the tub that had been hovering the water, chest glistening in the most stunning way which made made his pecks look godly and a certain boyishness look on his face.

Your eyes glanced over how it matched the smile on his peach colored lips.

“Like? I love it and you know that.” Art’s tone was low and laced with adoration mixed with a hit of lust rising. He held a hand out to you, eyes filled with nothing but intentions of getting you as close to him as possible. You’d been too far in his opinion, even being in the medium sized hot tub that had the three of you in an acute triangle. “Come closer baby doll,” Art asked of you and you couldn’t stop blushing already when you slid closer to him in the water. Smile plastered to your face as the man took you in with his muscular arm over your shoulder.

Eyes lightly hooded as he looked down at the way you fit snug in his side and he had to stop himself from biting into your shoulder as a way to show his affection. Just your sent was overwhelming him.

From the opposite end, Patrick had been sitting quite still as he observed the two of you. Elbows hanging off the rim of the tub and he held a cold beer in hand. His green irises switched between you and the blonde as if you were purely entertainment as you basked in each other’s warmth that had been heightened from the temperatures around you.

Patrick could almost feel the way Art felt you. The way you wanted him.

He’s been trying to figure out what made it so easy for you to stroll through the cabin around two men feverishly much older than you, so innocently without a care or censor in the world going off in your head. — and not just that, but you’d hardly ever wore clothing that actually covered you up. This has been the most revealing Patrick had seen you, but it wasn’t all shock when you’d merely always been in shorts that were just right off of having your ass cheeks on display — along with the smallest mini tennis skirts and tops so tight it was hard to imagine how’s you even get yourself into them. He didn’t know if there’d been a dip in your brain or what, but he almost wondered if you acted the way you did on purpose. Like a lost lamb in heat for only the sake of getting their dicks hard and uncomfortable enough for your own pleasure. Or for Art at least.

Maybe you could of just been playing slut like most girls your age did when it came to older men. Whatever it had been, Patrick knew to have you all figured out ahead of time.

“Save some space in between, yeah?” Patrick had noted out in reply of your and Arts closeness, only grin spreading across his lips as he raised the glass of beer to them slowly as if he’d been some threat you both should stay aware of.

And he loved that.

You looked over his way from Arts peering eyes on you with a soft blush. Art had looked at Patrick and remembered what they’d been sipping on to offer you,

“Did you want a beer ? I told Patrick to grab the cold ones.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

“Patrick, pass her one.” Art eyed his friend as the pack of six had been hanging out on the bar beside the tub, but before the brunette could speak up, you stood from the curb of the small pool.

“Don’t worry, I got it !” you smiled at both boys, but instead they had immediately gone to watch the droplets of water fall from your angel like body. And as you walked to exit the hot tub, you had to maneuver pass Patrick, which was a brief moment of his eyes just inches away from making contact with your breast being nearly one with his face. A shy kind of tint in your eyes as you climbed out and the water you carried splashed on the man while his eyes watched you in complete veneration. Only moving over a tad when he’d remembered you’d been literally trying to get out of the enclosure. And Art only watched, too mesmerized before he noticed Patrick had been staring just as much.

But even jealousy didn’t over take him right then when he saw the way your body was moments away from caressing the man, it was something more of yearning that took the lead.

You could of sworn you heard one of the men curse under their breath when you tuned your back to reach the table for the cold drink. Your ass had been of viewing now and you tried your best to hide an all knowing little smirk before you got back to them. Returning, Art didn’t even think twice before he reached for the can in your hands to open it up for you. The metal cracked with a pop and Art met your eyes again with a small grin as he handed it back to you.

“Merci” you giggled softly, as you relaxed beside him once again. Thinking to yourself before sitting comfortably, “y’know… there’s something I need to ask you both that I’ve been wondering for a while.”

With your delicate but filled, choice of words — both men had sat a little straighter in the steaming water at your voice, hanging on to your every note already as Patrick’s leafy eyes scanned your figure and Art looked down at you with anticipation for whatever had been on your mind.

“Yeah? What is it, doll face?” Patrick’s tone was low as he met your gaze for a brief second before you looked away with a coy scoff,

“Well… back at the academy a lot of the girls would constantly talk about it and - as embarrassing as it is - I just was never around boys much in my upbringing. Like ever. Most dance schools are pretty strict about that where I come from. So, I never got closure or a real answer. But you guys are boys...”

You couldn’t help but let out light girlish laughter after the hint to the male dominance of the atmosphere, and both Art and Patrick had matched your gesture with the sound of their laugher filling the air as they listened in on the way you spoke. It had been obvious they were both fighting the same urge to trail their vision to your exposed chest but you just pretended not to notice.

“So like, how do guys know when we’re ovulating?”

Art had coughed on the frozen beer that had been half way down his throat by the time your words fully got out, and Patrick’s grin only widened before he let out a louder laugh.

“Well-”

“Patrick- can definitely answer that one for you, right Pat?”

Art narrowed his eyes at his best friend sitting across from him in quick notion and your eyes flicked from the blonde to the brunette just as fast. His chuckle only fading some as he glanced back at you

“I mean, it’s more of a senses thing.”

“Like intuition, or?”

“A smell.”

“Oh-” you were slightly taken back by his answer as you snickered nervously. “That’s only a tad bit jarring I guess”

“It honestly comes with the package. Just a normal male thing, unless your consciously looking for it. I myself have a natural talent if you will.” Patrick’s smug was heavy as he educated you and you nodded in agreement, which made Art want to roll his eyes on instant.

“Because of the testosterone?”

“Likely.”

“Is it like that for you as well? Can you smell it?” Your wide eyes landed on Art again as you spoke in innocence that was almost too easy on the ears, the blonde met your eyes as he just lightly fondled with his ear in a fretful manner.

“Well, I- uh, it’s pretty much a normal thing. Like Patrick said. Not really an on or off switch.” The muscular but lean man chuckled and Patrick leaned forward as he watched.

“Art has you and Tashi around twenty four seven so he’s probably immune.”

“No. Not immune, overstimulated? Maybe.”

You watched between them as Patrick kept a sly smile on his face and Art had remained calm throughout the sultry conversation.

“Have you ever used it on me? Like- before we have sex or something..?” you peered up at Art through your lashes and Patrick had raised a brow at your new assertiveness — Art only tried to keep a cool state not too get too flustered as he sunk farther into the tub,

“Honestly babe, I can tell just from looking at you mostly. Like- how you look in those extra mini tennis skirts Tashi has you wear. The way your eyes sparkle a little more when you look up at me… When you’re being naughty.” Art went in to playfully nibble on your neck and you let out a string of giggles at the tickle off it as you fought him off with charm. But the blonde only grinned more as he pulled you in by the waist and he peppered kisses from your neck to your lips.

“I’d offer to say get a room but I don’t mind a little show.” Patrick inhaled deeply and when you turned to glance at him, hand staying on Arts jaw, you could see he had that idiotic look of arousal behind his not so hidden smirk as he sat man spread across from you both.

“My god. You’re such a perv.”

“Yeah? You love it, you’re a perv too.”

“I am not. I’m a girl,” you defended.

“And? Girls can be pervs also.”

“Or maybe you’re just projecting.”

“Art, your little play thing is talking back….” Patrick looked past you to his friend that was as used to the two of you naturally falling into bickering as anything else.

“Shut up.” You laughed, sending a light eye roll the brunettes way.

“You shut up.” He spat back at you like a tennis ball as he leaned up on the edge of the tub, broad shoulders flexing to catch himself and he reached for his pack of cigarettes. The man used his lips to pull a stick from box, he stared up at you with a glimpse of darkness in his pupils. “Want one?”

“Really?.. yeah.” You replied with chipper as you easily lifted yourself from Arts lap.

“Baby..” the blonde declared in a soft but alarming voice while he watched you stand, his hands slipped from your hips and he lost you to Patrick’s side of the pool with ease.

It was known to the two men that you hadn’t ever smoked before, and Art always had his dad instincts constantly lingering in the back of his mind. He couldn’t help it. He never wanted you participating in anything that wasn’t necessarily the best for you, and especially since Tashi would surely be against the idea of it at all costs. It was part of the reason why she wanted Patrick away from you — his influence and easy persuasion always getting to the best of any of the girls he could mess with. So Art knew how easy it was for you to let up to him.

“I just wanna try. Please?” You pleaded, and Art couldn’t say your pretty wide doe eyes and shape all too heavenly for him to deny didn’t steer him away from giving you a clean no.

“Yeah Art, she wants to try..” Patrick’s voice mimicked yours and he started to slowly but surely show his friend a sly smirk which Art replied with a daring look. You’d now been seated beside Patrick and Art had sighed out a deep breath as he nodded you off speculatively, which you then smiled excitedly in regard.

“You’ve really never done this before?”

“No.”

“What have you done?”

Patrick couldn’t help but poke you, and when you hissed with a soft smack to his broad arm that had been intimidatingly large. The man chuckled. You shook your head playfully which also released a few droplets of water from your braids and Patrick observed how your eyes had searched him from up close — he wondered if this was how Art felt when he looked at you. All senseless with a newfound kind of vulnerability like he’d be willing to your every need. But Patrick being who he was naturally, knew how to restrain from that part of himself and kept a mostly dominant state even at your first fruits. He flicked open his lighter and passed you a cigarette which you held with mostly confusion of what to do next.

“Don’t give her a full one.” Art narrowed at his friend.

“Alright, alright,” Patrick furrowed his brows as he exclaimed with his own cig hanging from the side of his lips.

The corners of your mouth inched up into a small simper as you watched the two men exchange with consideration of protection over you. Art remained a safety net always even if Patrick had challenged that assertiveness to him. And as much as Patrick was a hard case you didn’t underestimate your power to have him just as softened as Art was when it came to you.

“You can share with me.” The brunette notified you and you watched as he lit the end of the stick effortlessly and cupped the fire away from you with his ravishingly large hands. In one swift motion he passed the burning substance to you, which you inspected before your eyes met his face again — slight worry crossed you mind. But you didn’t let it show, “inhale that.”

You did inhale it. But it happened much faster than you expected because when the smoke hit the back of your throat, you began to cough instantly.

“No, no, no you have to exhale it eventually,”

“Yeah, because you totally gave her proper directions, Patrick.” Art huffed as he leaned up from attention to your coughing with growing aggravation at what Patrick had lured you into. Already regretting his notion to agree. Patrick shrugged with open arms and he furrowed his brows.

“Fuck off. I’m not good with kids.”

“I’m not a kid.” You responded when your coughs had dialed down and you swayed the smoke coming from your lungs away from you.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Patrick replied in a snarky attitude and you half groaned half whined at his annoying remarks, which had lead you to doing nothing but choking on air, literally. And it made Patrick have to refrain from letting out a chuckle because he’d known Art kill him.

“Relax. Just try again and remember not to inhale it too far. Just hold it in the back of your throat a little then release it.”

This time you did what he told you more considerately. Inhaling the smoke temporarily, then pushing it out with ease and Patrick watched you. His observation quickly turned into dilated pupils and a grin that liking spoke of mischief had widened across his face again.

“Atta’ girl.” He praised, and you supported a cheeky smile.

You held the cigarette in your fingers as you repeated the same all while keeping eye contact with the tennis player and he could of fallen trick for your soft but glorious bambi eyes right then.

“How cool do I look?” You let a light giggle slip from your lips after you exhaled the smoke once again and passed the substance back to the man and he wondered if you or Art could sense the way his desire had basically broadened in the last twenty seconds.

And as Art watched you both smile in lust from each others presence on the other side of the tub, he shifted as a perplex expression rested on his face. He observed the eyes you gave Patrick that he knew all too well. Pleading and filled with elite burning desire that he knew was just seconds away from setting Patrick off — he knew he had to get into stop it somehow.

He just didn’t like to be left out.

“It’s getting dark out, sweetheart. Why don’t you head inside and start setting up for s’mores ? I’ll come set the fire in a bit.”

Your eyes had trailed away from their fixture on Patrick to settle on Art when his voice came ruling in, But Patrick was still looking at you.

“Okay, yeah.” You said energetically as you lifted your legs out of the water that were wet from the knees down, fondly smiling at the two men before you grabbed your robe to head inside.

And when the patio door shut with your exit, Patrick ran his hands over his rugged half beard in a pace.

“Fuck, Art. She wants to fuck me.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’m serious. She told me. She wants to fuck us.”

“When did she tell you this?”

“Just a second ago. With her eyes.”

“Okay. So, she didn’t tell you that.”

Patrick huffed out and fixed the prominent bulge through his trunks that was growing fairly uncomfortable. Art looked down to notice and let out a soft chuckle of not very much surprise since he’d known the man sitting across from him like the back of his hand. Always just on the verge of needing to fuck whatever pitty excuse of emotions he had out somehow.

“For fucks sake, you’re unbelievable.”

“Whatever.” The man scoffed as he grabbed his towel and wrapped it around his hips in a hurry. “She’s just as much of a slut as I am, and I’m gonna find out.”

Art watched as his best friend exited from the pool, leaving a splash to hit Art in anxiousness to get to you. And Art scurried to dry off just to follow after him.

♡

It was almost an hour that passed since you’d all been spaced in the living area as the dim lights situated the room in a way that was all too torrid for the atmosphere at once, but you certainly weren’t complaining.

Art had been by the fireplace as he messed with the wood for a while till a brightening flicker over took the large cape and a small flame spread into a huge one in just a few seconds. You’d been sitting on the floor only a few inches away as you were putting a couple marshmallows on sticks (slipping a few chocolates in your mouth here and there) and when you heard the crackle of the fire come from Arts side of the room you glanced up at him with an impressive expression taking over your face and you clapped graciously.

Art couldn’t help but grin at your sweet gesture to which he found you all the more beautiful under the warm tones of the once cold room. You shook your head softly as the smile on your face hadn’t dropped when you focused back on what you’d been doing.

It was rather darker where Patrick sat on the couches not too far away as his forest like eyes watched the two of you basically flirt in secret code. He would usually find it all too soft for himself maybe, and to him, you’d just been a pint sized cheer squad for every time Art dropped a penny.

It was cute, he guessed.

What Patrick was more focused on was the way your eyes flickered to glance at him every so often.

Spotless and filled with attempt to say something. Anything. Just from the clear tension in the room, and as quite as it was — the brunette had to admit he was getting bored.

“Alright.” Patrick groaned as he stretched to lean up from his seat and your eyebrows furrowed as you watched the much taller man, seemingly giant from where you’d been on the rug, march over to where you’d been settled. Calmly but with a smoothness getting close enough to your face that he could read the quick nervousness fill your senses as your eyes searched him questionably, and Patrick’s own eyes scanned your rose tinted robe that you’d slung on, half fallen from your shoulder as he scoffed to himself.

“Just tell me. Do you want to fuck me and Art, or not?”

It came out as a mutter. But Patrick wasn’t the quiet type even attempted in the slightest. Art certainly heard and his eyes had snapped to where the two of you shared breaths with an immediate hardened expression.

“What the fuck, Patrick?”

“Just let her answer.” The other man spat back. And you fought not to bite down on your bottom lip as both men stare each other down. And with an irritated sigh, Art put his vision on you.

“You don’t have to answer him. Patrick just can’t control his dick — and that’s not your problem.” Art spoke sharply as his eyes flickered to the darker haired man who was in fact smirking.

Of course.

Both of their eyelines follow back to you.

And though you hadn’t needed to ponder for an answer, your bashful lashes met the floor anyways as you peered away softly. But all while keeping a dainty simper to your lips.

“No, it’s okay.. He’s right.”

With your words, you noticed Arts face soften, but not in a way you’d guessed — more in a perplexed manner as his eyebrows dipped. And on the other hand Patrick had been grinning to himself with a cocky chuckle coming from his lungs as he rested back on his palms.

“Simple. And easy. I was right, just like always.”

Art had ignored Patrick’s boastfulness and instead he rose to his feet and stepped over to where the two of you had been, you stood up as well — and you’d been immediately met with the blondes gaze on you, hand lifted to your cheek.

“Baby, are- - you sure ? You don’t have to feel pressured to do anything, Patrick can be very..”

“Charming, sexy, fucking unforgettable-” The brunette chimes in with a cheeky smile as he stood up to put his nose in the conversation between you two.

“A nuisance.” Art spoke over Patrick as his eyes went darkening with annoyance while he glanced over to the other nosy man.

“What? Do you think he’ll be too rough ? That I can’t handle it?” You laughed softly, “I can take it.”

“I never said you couldn’t.. but you are learning. And I get this is all new and exciting for you — and your sex drive is going to be heightened at this time…”

“Give the girl what she asks, Art.”

“Shut up. No one’s talking to you.”

“You’re talking about me.”

You couldn’t help but playfully roll your eyes at the two men bickering now, both over a foot taller than you, making your neck begin to pain just a little as you glanced up at the pair. And although, you would’ve been claimed very brave by most girls your age of how prominent your actions were towards teasing both of the men — you just couldn’t help but play with them.

A delicate sigh escaped you, “y’know.. if you aren’t nice to each other than I won’t want either of you to touch me.” You declare as you turn away from them and begin to walk away, but Art had grabbed on to your forearm and twisted you back around to face him.

“Hey. It’s just- - I’d never hear the end of it from Tashi.”

“She doesn’t have to know,” you began, and you searched the blonde’s expression for any ease which you failed to find — so you took your hand and reached up to gently caress the nape of his neck with your fingertips. “Besides, you’ll be involved. And therefore you won’t miss a thing.”

Your voice echoed songfully throughout Arts ears as he stared into your pretty eyes filled with desire, and just a spark of lust. You step closer to the man and your lips had been inches from his broad chest. It’s like your pleading eyes were like magic, and he couldn’t say he wasn’t fighting the urge to touch you all night long. He didn’t even care if Patrick watched — he liked showing you off anyways. Art pulled from your enrapture to look over at the darker haired man who was already pinned back at him. Chest inflating with a sigh, Art shrugged lightly.

“Fuck it. Fine.” He breathed out, and your smile had gone wide once again and you bit your lip with anticipation already. “But I need to prep you first.”

And with that Art had taken your hand in his as he lead you to one of the closest bedrooms nearby the floor plan, and Patrick of course, had scurried to follow after you both at the immediate note.

Your feet fastened to keep up with the blonde as the childish smile on your face had been filled with excitement to the rush where he lead you.

Patrick pushed open the cracked door as Art was lifting you to your feet on to the high bed where you stood ahead of him. “Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” Art murmured while he looked up into your eyes through his aquamarine that had darkened with lust in just the short amount of time — soft grin taking upon his lips and you could sense his head just being filled with ideas by the second. It made your stomach do flips with yearn. Your nod quick as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and Art lifted a finger to your silk robe and gently pull it from your shoulders. As it falls, lace straps are revealed to the man and he observed the fabric, eloquent against your glowing skin with a chuckle. “What do we have here?”

“I knew she was prepared,” Patrick’s voice came jarring as he stood next to the blonde and your pupils started dialing by the contrast of the two men gawking at you now. One filled with alluring desire to almost tear what was left of your clothing to pieces — and the other softened. Needing to worship every inch of your petite body before he lost it.

Art pulled away your robe completely in one swift motion as his wide-set eyes never left your own, you wet your lips as your cheeks had began to heat up with anticipation, but nervousness at his quick movements — you stood beyond him, lingerie displaying that was stuck to your body, white with small pink flowers scattered across the cotton and lace. Arts breath hitched just from the sight and he felt so constrained in his briefs as the little pink bow trimming the lining above your core making his dick go painfully hard. He moved his large hands across you carefully. Almost like you were a doll that could break at any given second.

“These stay on till I say,” the man softly mentioned at your ear and you nodded.

You reached for his shoulder blades and the man inched behind your back to undo your bra, he let it fall from your arms before leaning over you to place a smooch your neck area — seamlessly turning into kisses that scattered down to your exposed nipples and you closed you eyes. Bliss took over you for a moment and you smiled. Your hold on him close to your warmth, and Arts fingertips felt the lushness of your skin from every part of you he could. “mmm,” you left out a soft sough as the blondes plump lips explored your tender buds and his tongue brushed up against you briefly, making you hiss for a moment.

His eyes had been examining you, but yours had been softly lidded stint you glanced in Patrick’s direction — to which, the other man’s mouth had been slightly agape, feasting on the view of you both in exhilaration already.

Art braced his hands under your thighs and he laid you down against the bed, your legs were pushed apart on instant but with all tenderness as he leaned up from you — your smile had never faded for a glimpse while the man moved you like a toy. His hands went quickly to pull your panties to the side and Patrick had circled the bed around you both as he stood in awe of the way you weren’t even trying to put up a sexy or proactive kind of facade at all — in fact, you’d been laughing.

Right then. Girlish giggles filled the air as Art grinned down at you in the rising heat of the moment. Already knowing of your ways — you had big, wide doe eyes watching the man take a finger and run them against your slick folds. He examined over your expression, to your already dripping cunt and you bit down on part of your lip. Watching him explore you in an expert manner. Art’s tongue darted out to wet his own lips, he moved his body to tower over your own and your lower back arched a bit off the bed when you felt the tips of his fingers just over your soaking entrance. Coating him in your slick wetness.

“That’s it, sweet girl.”

Art started sinking his ring and middle finger into you painfully slow. You whined a little at the stretch before letting your head fall and braids spread against the comforter of the bed.

Your eyes had caught sight of Patrick looking down on you — so only giving him a playful but sweet smile laced with a kind of innocence and temptation that could of made his head spin. You could just read the expression on his face of how dare you even look at him that way when you’d lured them both into soon doing the dirtiest of acts with you in between. You were a fucking minx. And he then felt his mouth go dry.

“Holy fuck,” the brunette panted in a mutter as he quickened to lower his checkered green boxers to pull out his throbbing cock, stroking himself at the sight of your pretty smile — and cunt, taking Arts fingers so finely.

The soft yet high pitched sighs and moans that were coming from you were the remedy that pushed a complete solid hard on beneath Arts pajama pants as the blonde held your tender legs spread for him to get you ready for his and Patrick’s cocks. He watched you. Eyes filled to the brim with mercenary while feeling you clench and pulse around his digits. Slipping in and out of you, he used his thumb to rub at your clit and you whined out as your eyebrows knitted together in one motion.

“O-oh..” you moaned, reaching out for the man’s fit arm to grasp on to as your toes flexed.

“Good girl.” Art groaned.

You could hear the sound of Patrick jerking himself to the sounds of your moans and the sight of pre cum that was gooing on to Arts hands lead by the own tent that was prominent in sight to the man. Patrick let out a low noise of his own. And Arts eyes finally traveled from you to glance over at his friend,

“You wanna show Patirck what I taught you, princess?”

Your lips curled into a sly smile when you heard his word — you leaned up from the sheets and your legs swiftly moved behind you to now crawl over to the brunette standing by the end of the bed, cock hard and reddened with want for all that was you.

It was undeniable that he was bigger than you could of comprehended maybe, your eyes locked on him now from your knees. They travelled from his dick, to the way he peered down at your plump lips in enchantment for where your clues had left guesses, taking you by the nape of your neck almost immediately you let yourself lick a clean stripe from the base of his cock to the tip as your tongue wet him nice and slow. Patrick watched the way you made sure to show him the shape of your tongue flush against him and he could of came all over your face right then. Large hands going opaque with veins to match his hard member, he gripped the hairs on the back of your neck as you cinched your lips to the tip of him.

“Shit, shit you’re fucking pretty,” Patrick panted at the sight of your eyes staying on his — you perfectly sunk him into your mouth as you sucked with ease and a soft whimper exited from the back of your throat. Knuckles turning white as the brunette peered at the way you took him so sweet, and you brought a hand up to jerk him farther past your lips all at once.

Art just behind your shoulder, watched as you could only fit Patrick half way while you throated him, your lips left spit as you bobbed your head up his cock and back down. The blonde took reign of his own pants and t-shirt to remove them just like you and Patrick had been now, and as the scene had been going on between the two of you, Art couldn’t help but maneuver himself beneath you. Lifting your lower body up a bit effortlessly so he could fit himself underneath — he tugged on your panties to get them off, right down your upper thighs and over your feet in routine as he discarded them off somewhere across the room.

His cock hard and dripping pre cum just under your pulsing cunt, you felt yourself clench just from Arts grip on you, already guiding you down his dick. Familiarly to him filling your tightness still made you pull from Patrick to let out a high toned gasps as you felt the other man sinking into your hole. “Mmm- - fuck..” you breathe out as you feel yourself being stretched so nice — Arts hands never letting up easy from your hips, he guided you all the way down his member just to let out a deep groan and move you back up again.

“Oh, shit..” the blonde panted. You kept your hold on Patrick as you stroked him even moving up and down Arts dick and letting out strangled moans from beneath the brunettes chest. “Come on baby, just like that- keep stroking him while you take my cock..”

“My god. You weren’t kidding when you said you wanted us both.” Patrick huffed from the sight of you ridding Art with eyebrows knitted into another realm as you bounced up and down the blondes lap and Art couldn’t help but run his hands up your torso to your breast as you did. You placed your mouth back on Patrick and sucked him into letting out low moans of his own from your warmth around him.

“I could cum right now- - fuck, fuck !” he grunted, your hand had gone from moving quick to slowing down as you stroked his base and Art made you feel way to good inside — you didn’t know how much longer you even had in you as you’d gone light headed right then from the way he thrusted up into your soaking pussy, making your head fall back slightly and your words came out slurred,

“Oh- my-y god! Fuck..” you whimpered out as Art made your ass slap against his thighs from his pounding, he leaned up to peck at your neck and hold your body against his chest swiftly. You always remained content in his lap as you turned to kiss him back sloppily, moans and whimpers come from the two of you like a suppressed hunger.

Patrick felt his cock twitch with greed at the sight, “fuck Art, stop hogging her- - I’ve been practically dying to feel that tight little cunt.”

The already much sweatier and rough man, pulled you off of Art, and launched you forward on the bed as your hands braced your plummet — he made sure your ass was up and superb for his viewing. You moaned as your face hit the mattress and you rose to your hands and knees.

“I know this pussy feels fucking amazing. So sweet.” The brunette had been smirking as breathed in awe of the way the lips of your cunt shaped around his thumb as he felt up your folds and palmed your ass. He watched the way you turned to gaze at him with your own hazy fawning eyes that were full of a subtle plea to let him treat you like a whore. If you didn’t know before — you’d definitely known what I’d been like now. Patrick slid his dick over your soaked lips. You inched forward just from the feeling of the girth against you, causing you to hiss out a whine, not prepared or used to his size at all, it made you shake at the slight sensation.

“Keep still, baby doll” Arts hand had came to rub circles gently on your hip bone, your face consorted in uncertainty for a moment till you felt the blondes touch against your skin and you relaxed under his touch finally.

“Yeah. You’re a big girl, you wanted this remember?” Patrick added, he went to put his hand in your hair and you bit down on your strawberry reddened lips hard.

“Slow, please.” Your voice soft as you palmed the sheets beneath you to brace yourself,

“Slow.” Art repeated as his vision shifted from you to eye the brunette, leaning back on to his elbows beside you to making sure the darker haired man wasn’t pushing his luck.

Patrick raised a leg to get a better angle as he slapped the head of his aching cock a couple times to your puffy cunt, and he began to push in, taking his time to feel the way your tightness stretched fairly wide for him and when your jaw had hung to let out a choke moan, you’d been fighting the urge to give up on your arms strength. You took the man inch by inch. Whimpers escaped you like crazy and your legs began to tremble while Patrick’s lips parted to groan out deeply at the feeling of you clenching around him.

“There you go, pretty girl. Take my cock just like that..” he muttered as he started to fuck into you and your body had moved with his thrusts rather quickly, the man had been much more hasty to take you at a rapid pace on contact than Art normally did. His pelvis hitting the form of your ass and your soft cries matched the pace as he slid you up and down his throbbing member.

“Mmmh, fuck- your so- - big,” You watched as he grabbed on to your body and pounded into you. Patrick couldn’t stop himself now — your legs spread and nearly shaking just for him as your pre juices pooled at the bottom of his shaft. It was all too easy on the eyes for him to only take you faster. Your eyes had fought to stay open as hands come at you from every way at his escalated thrust.

Both of the men watch as you shudder to keep composure. The bows at the ends of your braids go wild on your back from the force of Patrick taking on your little body. And he had reached to grip them in his tough hands, making your your head to lift and echo out your whimpers and mewls.

Art felt himself coming close just from the sight, he had to calm his own hand from stroking himself into finishing. It was like the sight beyond him had surpassed what it ever could of been in his fantasies. He wanted it in you after all.

Patrick pushed on your lower back which forced you to arch for him all the more, your face against the mattress, watching you take his dick while pornographic moans fall from your pretty lips. You turned your head against the sheets to meet Arts eyes in petition as you’d been pulsing so hard — in fear you may start cumming too quick for your own little head to catch up to. Your eyebrows furrowed and your jaw dropped as Patrick fucked cries out of you.

“Aww, you want Art to save you now? Poor thing.” The brunette coo’d at you and you could almost taste the smirk on his face right then as he watched your ass cheeks going swell from his maul on your tight cunt. Art had run his finger tips across your face that had glistened with tears.

“I can- take it, I need more..” you whispered out. To which Patrick pulled out of you with a deep grunt, sack full as he could of came inside of you, but he too could agree. More. The man had simply taken place on his back , you swiftly adjusted your position as the feeling of being cockless inside had already increased your fine need.

“Yeah? Then show us how much you need it. Ride my dick like a good girl.”

You were already climbing on top of the man with abs that could of made your head drowsy all the more, you heaved softly as your much smaller legs adjusted over Patrick’s broad muscular thighs to position yourself to his member. Dripping with a mixture of his and your wet arousal. You sunk down on him more easily now and you winced with pleasure as you leaned back on your arms, head going with you as you started to feel butterflies down there from your first slight movement, moving your hips up his girthy cock and right back down.

Patrick moaned lowly as he held your hips there and helped you move, your tits daintily bouncing with your body in the low light of the room, and you could hear a muttered, “god” come from your side as Art leaned over your delicate shoulder to grope at your exposed breast. His bottom lip tucked in his teeth. You could feel his leaking cock run again your lower back causing you to moan as you took yourself upon Patrick’s hard erection ramming into you.

“You look like a fucking angel fucking yourself on his cock- - shit, you’re gonna make me cum.” The man groaned as he observed his best friend turn you into a whimpering mess.

“Ugh- -, I wanna cum. Fuck, fuck..” Your whimpers were heavenly and sweet, Art took the initiative to reach around you and rub at your clit the perfect pace — making your legs shake and you gasps out. “Yes- - yes, oh. Fuck!”

Patrick grabbed hold of your ankles so you’d keep your balance on top of him, his thumb grazed against your white lace frilled sock and he groaned. To him they were so stupid, but at the same time so fucking hot.

“Cum, princess. Go ahead, Be a good girl for us.” Art slow talked you and it made your eyes flutter as you couldn’t have been filled more with burning lust all over your body as the men brought you right to where you wanted like that — shaking and crying out moans as you had came hard on Patrick’s dick. Your movements became sloppy as you heard groans coming from him as well, he leaned up to grab hold of your neck and press for pressure just before he pounded up into you hard and released his own ropes inside your sensitive heat — feeling him pump you full and the overstimulation of his large hand around your throat had you moaning out his name. You lifted from his cock, but Art held your body so you wouldn’t fumble over.

“Oh my god, holy- - fuck,” your grin now of bliss, string of naughty words and giggles left your puffy lips as you sighed into Arts shoulder and he was smirking down at the way his fingers rubbed your now creamy cunt and the blonde laid you back against the comforter again.

Completely cock drunk and breathing heavy as your heart beat caught up with your breathing, Art didn’t want you losing your overstim too quickly — he was already towering over your petite body and sliding back into you at the second your eyes met his and you reached for his arms immediately. Jaw open as you let out a choked noise. You couldn’t catch a break. Just being filled up again. You lock eyes with the gorgeous blonde above you as he stretched you wide once again.

“You’re so fucking good, sweet girl. Just one more, for me..”

All knowing you’d do whatever he longed for, the man sweet talked you slow as he watched Patrick’s seed drip from your drooling cunt and met the tip of his cock as he began to sink in. You kept your legs spread for him. Round eyes glittering with adoration for him like worship, you stared up at Art — so obedient for him always.

“I wanna cum again for you, I can-” you tried to speak fairly normal through soft gasps when Art bottomed out into you, reaching that spot Patrick lit up within you, your head went cloudy again and released into the pillows priming you. “-do it.” You finished your sentence with a whine.

Art couldn’t help but to grin at your state, so tired and fucked out but so turned on by the way the two men had been taking their toll on you back to back. You couldn’t help but take it all — he held your body, pussy so full from cum and Arts member that filled you excellently. You began to shake and tremble with a whimper at his every slap against your sensitive cunt.

Your hand moved to your face unconsciously you took your thumb in your mouth to balance the sensations all at once, moaning as the blonde pounded you into the bed — he watched you bite down and suck on your own digit in euphoric bliss. He soon reached to remove your own hand and replace it with his, sliding his tip against your pump bottom lip before dipping his thumb in your mouth.

You let out a satisfied little chirp as you run your tongue sloppily over the man’s digit with a smile before sucking on him like it was everything you needed. Eyes shutting softly, he pleased you both orally and by the clench of your pussy. “mmmh” you whimpered out and Art kept fucking into you with a quick pace.

“That’s my girl. I know exactly what you want.” He kept his finger in your mouth before your legs were shaking with need and your own hands gripped his one as you cried out from his thrusts, the blonde panted at the slight of you beneath him so prolific and exposed — he couldn’t even think straight before he was spilling his load inside of you. Keeping himself flush to your cunt as he emptied himself with a low grunt and you ended up squirting on his cock with a muffled scream.

“Fuck, you got her to squirt.” You heard Patrick pant and by the looks of his hand covered in his own arousal, you and Art had both been knowing he came again. Sweaty and chests heaving you both melted into each other, your arms immediately going to wrap around Art as he squeezed and kissed you.

“Are you good, baby? Was that not too much for you? You took a lot just now.” Arts voice came in calmly as he looked over you for any signs of turbulence. His fingers graced your flushed face, wedding band cold as it brushed against your skin. You nodded as your breathing finally caught up to you steadily.

“Yeah.. Fuck, I feel good. You both came inside of me..” your words slip out as if you needed to convince yourself of the matter, like you hadn’t been on your back and both of the men’s cum wasn’t gushing out of you as you speak.

Art smiled softly at you and his tired eyes watched the sparkle in yours. He readjusted himself so he was lying beside your left — and Patrick collapsed against the pillows on your right.

“Fucking hell, Art. I just can’t believe you kept her all to yourself this whole time.”

“Yeah? She’s something isn’t she?” Art replied with a grin as he turned your way and continued to run his thumb over your cheeks and lips. Your blush was heightened at the two boy’s marvel over you, lip between your teeth as you let out a light chuckle.

“I hope you had fun, Patrick. She’s still all mine, right angel?” Art glanced down at you.

“Sharing is caring.” You shrugged in a teasing manner as the blonde scoffed playfully and raised a brow in thought before nodding, “okay, maybe a little sharing.”

Patrick laughed, “you call that a little ? We made her cum twice. You let me fuck her like a sl-”

The brunette was cut off at the blonde hitting him in the forearm then gesturing to you — sound asleep in between the two.

Your soft breaths slip through your lips as your head fell into Arts shoulder. He put his finger to his lips to warn Patrick not to wake you, and he leaned up from the bed slow. “Pass me my shirt on the floor, and grab a towel from the bathroom.” He whispers to the other man who carefully moved up from the bed and threw the T to Art before he went to grab a towel for your body.

Art started to maneuver his shirt on you with tenderness so you at least wouldn’t wake up naked and confused.

When Patrick came back he smirked at the way your small tiresome figure had been passed out on the bed like some sort of sleeping beauty. “See, I did that.” He nodded up at Art with the same darkened lustful eyes he began the night with — but Art only rolled his at the man’s cockiness.

“We did that.” He corrected while he ran the towel over your inner thighs lightly before he lifted your limbs to lie you beneath the covers, and Patrick helped him pull them over you. You only let out a quiet noise from the movement as you continued your slumber and the two men watched you for a quiet moment.

Arts lips curled up in a fond smile before he bent to leave a kiss to your forehead — the blonde looked over at the brunette who had folded his arms over his chest while he watched with a raised brow and Art contemplated before leaving another peck against your skin.

“And one from Patrick too, I guess.”

A/N: I love this little uv I’ve created sooo bad you guys <3

#art donaldson #patrick zweig #challengers #art donaldson x female reader #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #i love art donaldson #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig x you #dilf art donaldson #challngers x reader #x reader #female reader #ballerina!reader #challengers smut #inexperienced!reader #chlmtsdoll writes

1K notes · View notes

fuctacles · 8 months ago

Text

extras: | 🐈 | 🐾 | 🐈 | Ao3

Eddie was lowkey disgusted by how his uncle would talk about one of his neighbors. No, he doesn't think it's bad for old people to fall in love or have crushes. But it's weird to know these things about his own uncle.

And it's also sad to watch, because it's been months of Stephanie this, Stephanie that, and nothing came of it, so he felt safe to assume the infatuation was one-sided. So when he tells his uncle he can't go feed her cats that week, he figures it's for the best. And not only because of Wayne's twisted ankle. To his surprise though, he doesn't seem fazed; he just waves his hand and says:

"Yeah, yeah, I know. No climbing the stairs with this thing." He pokes the cast with his crutch. "I've already volunteered you anyway."

Eddie raises his eyebrows because he surely misheard that.

"You did what now?"

"Told Stephanie I'll send you to feed her cats," Wayne says, confirming his fears.

"Why?! She has so many other neighbors!" Eddie points out, gesturing vigorously around the room, implying but meaning the flats surrounding them.

Wayne clicks his tongue at him.

"Would you let in just any of your neighbors into your home? She already trusts me, and I'm vouching for you."

Eddie gapes at him, hating that he's making a valid point. Damned be his old man and his reasonable thinking. He crosses his arms because while it makes sense, it doesn't mean Eddie can't be angry about it.

"When?"

"She's visiting her friend this weekend so she asked for Saturday evening and Sunday morning. And stay with them for a while if possible, so they don't go crazy. Ah, and the plant in the kitchen needs watering."

"Great," Eddie grits through his teeth. He's so delighted at the prospect of spending time with some old lady's cats. The whole place probably stinks of cat piss and he'll definitely kill the plant as soon as he touches it. (It was his only superpower, which is not what he aimed for when his five-year-old had been praying, thanks for nothing, Jesus.) He just hopes he won't have to meet her. Hearing some old hag complain about his clothes, hair, and general adolescence was the last thing he wanted on his weekend off. But, alas...

"She asked you to come over tomorrow so she can show you where everything is."

Eddie groans.

It's a Friday afternoon, he's at his uncle's taking a break from college and work. He should be sharing a beer with the old man, complaining about the coursework, the professors, and other students, not picking him up from the hospital, and running errands while his foot is in a cast. And certainly not meeting up with old stinky spinsters.

To add insult to injury, Miss Stephanie, (which, by the way, is such a typical old hag name) lives two floors higher and the elevator is perpetually broken. Not too high, but high enough for Eddie's anemic lungs to start collapsing.

He stops around the corner to steady his breath, because regardless of his overall attitude, he didn't want to worsen the first impression. He already refused to 'dress like a decent man' and didn't want to wheeze into the lady's face on top of it.

Once his lungs are functioning properly again, he walks into the hallway, looking for number 54 as Wayne instructed. He knocks on the door, hoping he didn't mess it up and is at the right place. What if it was 45?

It must have been because he was told Stephanie Harrington lives alone.

"Uh, sorry, I must have—"

"Are you Eddie?" The woman who opened the door takes him in. At her feet, a tabby cat peers curiously at the new human.

"Uh, yeah? I'm looking for Miss Stephanie?" he offers awkwardly. Maybe that's the friend? Or a sister?

But the woman extends her hand and smiles brightly.

"That would be me, but please call me Steph. I wish I could drill that into Wayne's thick skull." She rolls her eyes fondly.

Her big, gorgeous eyes, framed by thick lashes. She's not an old hag, she could be in her forties at best. She's tall and curvy and her hair looks straight out of a shampoo commercial. She's gorgeous. Eddie shakes her hand in a daze.

"Hi," he croaks as he's ushered inside.

"Come in, come in! I've heard so much about you, it's great to finally see you in person. I must say," she turns around and gives him a quick once-over. "Wayne's stories didn't do you justice."

Did she just check him out?

Eddie clears his throat, suddenly dry like his elbows during winter.

"Uh, same to you."

"Yeah?" She puts her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow. "What does he say about me?"

"Good things only," Eddie assures her.

"So you're saying I'm a bitch." She squints at him.

"No!" His eyes widen. "What?!"

"Well, if he's saying only good things about me, and you say they don't describe me right..."

Eddie gets the point she's making and quickly shakes his head.

"No, he just made you sound like a crazy old cat lady, and you're..." He waves his hand uselessly. "Not that."

She sighs softly, shoulders sagging a little. It would be easy to miss but Eddie's senses are heightened after his fuck up.

"I kinda am, though," she says with a shrug.

Eddie feels the need to reassure her somehow.

"Well, you're not eighty and your place doesn't smell like cat litter, I think you're fine."

She barks a laugh, it's low and surprised and Eddie's cheeks are red because he's just digging further into the hole he's in, isn't he?

"Good to know the bar is so low."

Eddie groans, tired of doing damage control that's not controlling anything.

"I'm gonna shut up now."

"Please don't." Steph smiles wide and teasingly. "You're a funny one. Just like your uncle told me."

Eddie scoffs. He's going to have a word or two with the old man once he's back.

"Great, this is exactly the impression I was hoping to make."

At his words, the woman eyes him up and down again, and he can feel his cheeks heating up.

"Yeah? Not as the local punk satanist?" she teases, making Eddie bristle.

"Metalhead," he corrects instinctively and immediately winces.

"Ah, my bad. I'm not good at the subcultures thing." She smiles apologetically but it doesn't read well with how clearly amused she is. "Anyway, here's the plant I want you to water tomorrow evening. Just like, half a glass."

Right. Plants. Cats. He came here on a mission.

"Come on, I'll show you my cats."

There's only three of them and they come rushing from all corners of the flat at the rustle of a catnip bag. Eddie never saw high cats so he's glad to have this opportunity now. Stephanie points to the tabby he saw earlier.

"This is Dart, she's not actually mine, but my friend couldn't keep her at the dorms. This is Garfield," she points to the orange cat, making Eddie huff a laugh. She grins. "Yeah, don't tell anyone, but he's my favorite," she whispers, to which Eddie mimics zipping his mouth shut.

Lastly, she points to the black cat rolling on the carpet.

"And this is Arwen."

Eddie frowns.

"Like, The Lord of the Rings Arwen?"

"Yeah," Steph sighs. "Dustin named her. He's the friend I've mentioned. Dart is short for D'Artagnan and I've fought teeth and nail for Garfield not to be called Pippin."

"Pippin is a great name, though," Eddie points out.

"Maybe," she huffs, crossing her arms. "But I wanted one for myself, okay? Not everything has to be about Dustin."

"Is Dustin like, your brother or something?"

"Kinda?" She frowns. "We're not actually related but I babysat him, and then we became friends. He just stuck around, somehow." The words sound angry but her face betrays the fondness she has for her friends.

"That's nice," he offers. "I'm an only child, never met any cousins, and only ever had friends my age."

"Well, good for you. Maybe if I had friends my age I wouldn't be living alone with a bunch of cats."

Eddie frowns.

"Hey, now..."

She cuts him off with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"I'll show you where the food is."

Eddie's in a daze when he comes back downstairs, only realizing his visit ended when he's standing in his uncle's living room. He's been gone for only half an hour but it feels longer.

"How did it go?" his uncle asks, pulling him out of his reverie.

Edie turns to him and blinks, fighting the cotton around his brain.

"Fine?" he offers. "She's not as old as I expected," he admits bluntly. His uncle snorts.

"What, just because she lives alone with her cats you assumed she's on her deathbed?"

Eddie winces. It's exactly what he did.

"Well, the people in her life weren't kind to her, so now she relies on her pets. Nothing wrong with that." Wayne shrugs.

"What do you mean?" Eddie frowns, curious. Concerned. He goes to the kitchen, not wanting to seem too eager to get an answer, and grabs a beer for himself and his uncle. He opens the junk drawer to find an opener and hears his uncle answer from the adjacent living room space.

"She doesn't say much about it and I never asked, but she's always alone on the holidays. Her friends visit a few days before or after."

Eddie walks back in and hands his uncle the opened bottle.

"Thanks, son."

He nods and settles heavily in an armchair. Focusing his gaze on the label peeling off of his beer, he hums thoughtfully.

"No family?"

"Seems so." Wayne nods solemnly. "I think it was a conflict of lifestyle choices, but I'll be honest, I'm basing it off of rumors and my own assumptions." He scratches his cheek, frowning at the wall. "It's not my place to pry, though I offered to hear her out if she ever felt like needing an ear." He sighs. "I'm just trying to be a good neighbor. Invited her for dinner over Thanksgiving, when you couldn't come. I was surprised she's into basketball," he muses.

Eddie was seeking answers and now was even more confused.

"You invited Miss Stephanie. For a dinner?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Yes. She was alone, I was alone, figured I could at least ask. I'm still surprised she agreed. She declined all my other offers."

"Wow." A teasing smile creeps on his lips against his will. "You've been inviting a lot of women since I moved out?"

"Listen," Wayne takes on his stern voice and it takes all of Eddie's willpower not to cackle. He can see his uncle's mustache twitch. "Stephanie is a lovely lady, but she's way too young for an old man like me. And this old man is too old for romance anyway. Besides—" he cuts himself off like he realized he was saying too much. Which, of course, piques Eddie's curiosity.

"Besides?"

Wayne shrugs.

"I don't think I'd ever be ready for someone like her."

Eddie makes a confused face.

"The fuck does that mean?" he asks, irritated.

"Rumors and speculations, son."

#trying again bc it flopped hard #does tumblr hate the m word or was it something else?#idk anyway heres a repost #steddie #stevie harrington #transfeminine steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #mine #steddie fanfiction #transfem steve harrington #crazy cat lady stevie #Stevierything

792 notes · View notes

seosracha · 1 year ago

Text

ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ೢִֶACADEMIC COMEBACK: ⸻⸻

⸻HOW TO PASS SCHOOL IN TWO WEEKS

synopsis: you and wonbin were academic rivals: competing to get the worst grades possible. but with graduation around the corner you have to combine your 4 braincells in order to pass.

genre: academic rivals, enemies to lovers, highschool au, fluff, very unserious, smau

pairing+featuring: wonbin x fem!reader, ft. taesan of boynextdoor, giselle of aespa, sion of nctwish, danielle of newjeans, juyeon of tbz & rii7e.

⸻tags: foul language, sex jokes, wonbin and reader are really fucking dumb, kms/kys jokes, a tiny bit suggestive sometimes, more tba!

status: on hiatus!

taglist: open! send an ask to be added

ONE. academic failure

TWO. 2.5 braincells

THREE. nonexistent beef

FOUR. girl who knows what shes doing

FIVE. ccsp (Cutie Cool Sexy Princess)

SIX. submissive twinkatron

SEVEN. boyfriend lineup

EIGHT. assembling shelfs and frying fries

NINE. senior trip

TEN. yes or no

ELEVEN. four eyed bitch

TWELVE. washing machine (0.4k)

THIRTEEN. #AirportFashion

FOURTEEN. Y/N UNFOLLOW SPREE

FIFTEEN. go m for m

SIXTEEN. war is over

...more tba!

#ACADEMIC COMEBACK - 🗯️#wonbin #park wonbin #wonbin x reader #wonbin fluff #wonbin smau #riize wonbin #wonbin imagine #wonbin imagines #riize imagine #riize smau #riize scenarios #riize imagines #riize x reader #riize fluff #SR-archived

724 notes · View notes

hxney-lemcn · 6 months ago

Text

Late Night Chaos — Daisuke x gn! reader

summery: things start going bad on the Tulpar, and the worst possible outcome comes to fruition

tw: reader is implied to have trauma surrounding domestic violence (specifically loud arguments), Jimmy making the worst choices imaginable, if you watched/played the game then you should be good

a/n: haha, so I choose unbearable angst...

wc: 1.2k

Master List

Tense. That was the best way to describe how you felt. Eyes locked forward, tuning out the conversation around you. You despised fights, bringing you back to a time you long wished to forget. This was meant to be a party, a break from all the monotonous work, a celebration. Apparently you all had to share a communal birthday party, and according to the veterans (Anya, Swansea, and Jimmy), it was Captain Curly’s turn. You were excited, looking forward to having a good time, have some cake and maybe play some games. It was a surprise party as well, which made it all the better. You and Daisuke had taken charge of decorating, placing up banners and balloons with the help of Swansea. Even Anya was excited, putting a birthday hat on Polle, the Pony Express mascot.

The captain had looked surprised, a small smile curling on his lips as you all stood in front of him wearing birthday hats…but you noticed it seemed a bit strained. Unfortunately, he was the only one able to make the cake, leading you all to wait for it to be made. The air was light though, everyone sitting down and waiting for Curly to cut the first slice. Well, at least that’s what you were waiting for, instead, Daisuke asked Curly to make a speech.

“Can’t argue with that,” Jimmy agreed.

“Speech, speech, speech!” Daisuke chanted with a grin.

“Go on,” Anya nodded, also seeming excited.

“I…” Curly hesitated, blue eyes trailing across you all in uncertainty.

“...Hey,” Jimmy cut in. “What’s wrong?”

That was the catalyst. Curly had explained that you were all losing your jobs, and were the last shipment for Pony Express. You felt your stomach drop, hunching in and eyeing the older adults that surrounded you. You were merely an intern, you could bounce back from this, but the people whose entire lives depended on this job? You were just waiting for the pin to drop.

“Pony Express finally kicking the bucket, huh,” Swansea grumbled angrily. “What a joke. And we’re the punchline.”

“I don’t have any savings,” Anya spoke up shakily. “T-they can’t just do this, right?” You continued to look down at your empty plate, feelings unbearably uncomfortable. Glancing at Daisuke who sat beside you, he seemed to feel the same, the both of you the odd ones out.

“Pony Express was one of the last manned crew freighter companies,” Swansea explained. “The writing’s been on the wall for a long time.”

“When did they tell you?” Jimmy asked, and you felt yourself freeze. His tone was icy calm, but you could see the anger swimming behind his eyes.

“Earlier this week. I was instructed to wait until we’re closer to the haul destination. But I can’t keep something like this from you all.” Curly responded, and just like that it was like you could hear the pin hit the ground.

“...So I guess you got what you wanted, without the guilt,” Jimmy chuckled humorlessly.

“Jim…” Curly trailed off, looking like a kicked puppy. His people pleasing tendencies were starting to make you feel sick…and the electric tension you felt in the air. “If I had known…”

“I can go back to my…how’d you put it?” Jimmy mocked, causing your shoulders to tense. It was then that you started to disassociate, mind turning empty as Jimmy continued to berate the Captain. You flinched when Jimmy hit the table, wearily eyeing Jimmy’s angry expression. Too much, this whole situation was too much, you felt the incessant need to run, but also frozen in place.

You nearly jumped in your spot when you felt Daisuke’s warm hand envelope your own, looking just as uncomfortable, but also worried. You squeezed his hand tightly, using it as a distraction from the unsettling atmosphere when Captain Curly began to cut the cake, fidgeting with the rings that lined his fingers.

You had become more on edge after that, jumping at any noise that was too loud, scared of making the situation worse somehow. Anya, who you had looked up to as being strong, had become battered, clearly terrified of what her future held. Swansea had become even more isolated, swiping tools from Daisuke’s hand and muttering ‘just lemme do it’. The captain seemed tired, unsure how to fix an unfixable situation. Even you knew there was no way for there to be an option where everyone won. Then there was Jimmy, more irritable and snarky, like a mini whirlwind causing a trail of disaster in his wake. If you were avoiding him before, then you were acting like he had the plague now.

Sure, when he snapped at you for seemingly no reason that one time you were ready to fight back. He had just been an annoying boomer who thought he was better than everyone else. But now? Now it was different. He was a desperate man who had no hope, and that’s what terrified you. The pure, unbridled anger in his eyes at the party made your skin crawl, and you thought for a split second that he would do something that would bring you all down with him.

…

“Hey, you okay?” Daisuke asked softly. It was only two days after the unfortunate ‘party’ and all the effort to get you to open up seemed to have been instantly undone. He noticed your discomfort during the argument, but he had been wrapped up in his own effort to try and act like everything was okay instead of addressing the problem head on. But it got to the point where he couldn’t ignore it, heart twisting painfully everytime you tensed at his touch, the split second fear in your eyes before calming down when realizing it was just him.

“Yeah,” Your response was desolate. It was obvious you weren’t okay, and Daisuke nearly backed down, but your blank gaze didn’t sit well in his chest.

“You’re lying.” He hated confrontation, but he didn’t like seeing your teasing and cheerful demeanor subsiding into something timid, frightful and bleak. Sure, the crew had an argument, and even he felt like he was walking on a tightrope, but you didn’t need to be so scared.

“You’re right,” You didn’t even try to fight back, fingers twitching, feeling on edge. A silence fell between you both. He was getting nowhere, and he wasn’t sure how to get you to just tell him what was wrong. It was better to share your worries than keep them in, but he also didn’t want to pry too deeply into a topic you didn’t want to share.

“Why?” Daisuke asked, feeling hopeless.

“I have a bad feeling,” You spoke, eyes finally landing on your frowning boyfriend. “Something really, really bad is gonna happen. I just know it.”

You seemed to have a foresight that he lacked. Your haunting words echoing through his head as the red emergency lights blared throughout the ship only four days later. Everyone scrambled to the Captain’s corridor, and Daisuke could only watch on in horror as Captain Curly stood burnt, hands and feet trapped in the emergency foam, Anya ordering you to get her medical supplies. As you rushed past and made eye contact, an understanding was held in both of your gazes.

You were right. Something really, really bad had happened.

#mouthwashing x reader #daisuke mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing daisuke x reader #mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #mouthwashing daisuke #x reader

168 notes · View notes

maybefae · 6 months ago

Text

Messages From Your Guides

Pile 1 - Pile 2 - Pile 3

Remember, this is a general reading and it may not resonate for everyone or completely. Tarot is a tool to help guide but you are responsible for your actions and life, you choose your path.

Tips!

Pile 1

Tarot Cards: Queen of Wands (Justice and Nine of Wands), The Sun (Four of Wands), Six of Pentacles (Six of Swords), Seven of Cups (Two of Cups)

Bottom of the Deck: Two of Swords, Strength, The High Priestess, Ace of Swords

This guide can be a more motherly figure or a very ancient deity that appears more feminine. It almost has a “Crone” energy.

It’s okay to be happy after you have had to put walls up against a certain person, people, or your family. It’s okay that you are happier after establishing boundaries, my love. Compared to what they have done to you, no matter how minimal it could seem, your act of standing your ground and standing up for yourself is justified. It’s okay to be happy. The scales of justice have tipped in your favor. You’ve always questioned why you had to suffer, that the ones who have wronged you seem to always be able to get away with things. But now that you get to be happy once, you feel guilty when you should feel like the weight is lifted off your chest. The shackles they had put on you, the thoughts they put in your head to make you stay small, are a far greater harm than you standing up for yourself.

It’s okay to walk away. You may regret staying as long as you did, taking care of people wishing to receive it back but never getting it in return. But don’t. Your heart and your love is a great power. It is something that makes you strong. You loved yourself enough to finally walk away. And there will be another that shares the love you have, all you had to do is walk away from the people who didn’t.

Pile 2

Tarot Cards: King of Pentacles, Seven of Pentacles, Ace of Cups, Five of Pentacles, Three of Swords, Ten of Wands, Six of Cups, Eight of Wands

Bottom of the Deck: The Hanged Man

This is a very masculine feeling guide. “Great Oak” energy, strong and warm. This could honestly resonate with people who picked pile 2 from my recent week ahead reading. This is a very father-like energy, built like a brick house and someone who does everything with love. A full heart and very, very protective. You could have seen him as a kid? Maybe in a dream or you actually saw his spirit. He could come around as a certain animal you see whenever you are going through something, or it’s like you are the only one that sees this animal and no one else sees them around. He gives off the energy of a bear, coyote, fox, tortoise. Orange daylilies.

This guide isn’t really one for words but for actions, so I will do my best to describe what he’s showing and making me feel. He didn’t like that he had to keep his hands out of a situation that left you defeated and heartbroken, because his instinct is to keep you behind him and deal with your problems so you can keep living your life with as much peace and happiness as possible. However, he is showing me that he was told not to intervene.

But just know, he walks beside you on your new journey. He is very adamant on making me tell you that he’s extremely proud and you’re doing a great job. He just nodded and gave a few claps. Don’t let the fire in your heart die and keep your “childlike wonder.” “Everything you thought as a child is true…you are just looking in the wrong places/looking too hard.” The journey ahead is great and filled with merriment despite the lack of coins in your pocket. There will be another great shift that will happen in your favor but keep on trucking. All that work will pay off and you have friends to enjoy the journey with.

Pile 3

Tarot Cards: Seven of Wands, Ten of Pentacles, The Spirit Plane, Ace of Pentacles, King of Pentacles

Before I pull any cards, you have a guide or guides that come off as very ambiguous. They come off as very angelic or air/light fae, sylphs. I just see light creatures/beings and hear giggling. They are very lovely and they can be tricksters, but don’t cause much harm. They are light-hearted and like to keep the energy of fun around. Now I see them dancing with each other. I also see an expanse of field.

Another note: Since you probably believe in them if you picked this pile, I have a gnome friend who also wants to say something.

I just have the top row of cards out and they all want to talk. They already have a flurry of messages. They want to say that, yes, you did see/hear from them and you aren’t crazy despite what others have said. They see you as one of them and as a good friend. You probably don’t feel human most days and become very confused/distressed from the way life is in this realm. You operate more in their realm of living. They are also telling you that you are far more rich because of that.

They just wanna tell you that you aren’t crazy, they keep repeating that. Your view of the world is most likely correct. Nothing makes sense, what you believe should be makes sense though. And there is also a warning here that all beings of this category aren’t happy. In fact, they are actually really angry. “Something’s coming.” They won’t expand on that but they want you to know. You will be protected from your guides! And it will seemingly feel like everyone around you is effected but you. And throughout your life, you may have felt very lucky because things may have felt like were dropped in your lap or life has been pretty easy and it’s because of them. They don’t know if they want thanks or not, but they will take your gratitude in the form of gifts/offerings!

Decks Used: Ophida Rosa Tarot by Leila and Olive, The Dungeons and Dragons Tarot Deck by Adam Lee and Fred Gissubel, Cosma Visions Oracle by James R. Eads

Dividers: @inklore

#pick a card #pac #tarot reading #tarot #maybefae tarot #pick a pile #maybefae

310 notes · View notes

strbymacaroon · 1 year ago

Text

Silent Love: Master-List!

Master-List:

༝̩̩̥͙ ༓༝̩̩̥͙ ⊹ ૢ་༘࿐ Synopsis:

When moving out of your dorm and leaving your eccentric roommate goes to shit, you're offered by one of her friends to move in with him... for free! That is, if you don't mind living with two completely opposite college boys.

However, life isn't that easy, and there's a hot asshole around the corner to piss you off. Especially when he's always up late at night when you're studying, purposely trying to get on your nerves in the most perverse way possible.

You hate him.

Yet, the tables seem to turn when he comes knocking on your door asking for your help. For something in exchange, of course.

Under one agreement, that is.

CW: Alternate Universe - College/University, Shameless Smut, Thin Walls, Mildly Dubious Consent, Roommates Fluff and Crack, Slice of Life, Kinda Slow Burn, Oral Sex Vaginal Sex, Slight Age Difference, Degradation Fake/Pretend Relationship, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Enemies to Lovers, Spit Kink, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

.・-: ✧ :ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

༝̩̩̥͙ ༓༝̩̩̥͙ ⊹ Reader here on Ao3 ⊹༝̩̩̥͙ ༓༝̩̩̥͙

ૢ་༘࿐ Chapter One: 14k words.

.・゜-: ✧ :-︑︒⚬∙︓· : ̗̀ ➛ New Roommate(s)

“… “I can’t deal with your sobbing when I’m trying to go to bed because he broke your heart again.” It’s the reason you're moving out, actually. That's being mean, it isn’t the reason why you’re moving out. But, it definitely is one of them…”

ૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Two: 9k words.

.・゜-: ✧ :-︑︒⚬∙︓· : ̗̀ ➛ Sexual Tension

"...Maybe you imagined the whole thing, you were up really late and could’ve been sleep deprived. You can’t, right? That’s impossible, you’re not crazy. Besides, if you’re not imagining it, Yuuji had to have heard, right?..."

ૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Three: 11.7k words.

.・゜-: ✧ :-︑︒⚬∙︓· : ̗̀ ➛ Fake Dinner Date W/Feels

"...You yell at the door. It’s way to fucking early to be dealing with this shit, why couldn’t he bother you in the afternoon? You glance at the clock on your counter, the numbers ‘2:57 PM’ glaring back at you, oh shit. Okay, fine, maybe it is time to get up..."

ૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Four: 26.6k words.

.・゜-: ✧ :-︑︒⚬∙︓· : ̗̀ ➛ Project Week

"...You weren’t necessarily dreading this moment, but you aren’t looking forward to it. Things are just back to being silent between you two. Now, you have to follow him around like a lost puppy..."

ૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Five: 10k words.

.・゜-: ✧ :-︑︒⚬∙︓· : ̗̀ ➛ "Good Guy."

"...You feel your stomach drop. Sukuna presses his lips together, his eyes moving up and down your frame, before naturally looking at the women besides him. He can see your expression sour from the corner of his eye, and it makes his stomach turn uncomfortably..."

ૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Six: 27.1k words.

.・゜-: ✧ :-︑︒⚬∙︓· : ̗̀ ➛ Forgiveness?

"...Uruame nods, placing the things on the table. “Of course, I’m here for Sukuna.” They place the final item, and you quickly observe they’re the ingredients for cookies..."

ૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Seven: 34k words.

.・゜-: ✧ :-︑︒⚬∙︓· : ̗̀ ➛ A Lovely Night

"...“Shit! Sukuna why didn’t you—“ If possible, your stomach twists even harder. The space next to you is empty, void of any form of existing life other than a messy pillow. You feel your eyebrow twitch, before punching his pillow. That fucking lying ass son of a bi..."

ૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Eight:

.・゜-: ✧ :-︑︒⚬∙︓· : ̗̀ ➛ Epilogue...

736 notes · View notes

hungermakesmonsters · 1 month ago

Text

(It Is) What It Is

Chapter Eight

Plot Summary : When Billy Russo realises that there is a certain class of wealthy clients who refuse to contract with Anvil because of his playboy reputation, he decides to alter their perception of him. You’re just a down on your luck PA, just trying to get by so when Billy offers to pay you to pretend to date him, you can’t refuse. But the last thing you expect is for Billy to pull you into his secret world of lust and debauchery.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Some frisky business. There will be smutty themes throughout the story. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 6.1k

A/N : well, I definitely enjoyed writing this chapter, guess why. 😅 also sorry it got so long

Master List

Chapter Eight

Come Monday morning, it was as if nothing had happened.

You were already at your desk when Billy arrived, he hadn’t offered to pick you up because he’d had a meeting first thing on the other side of the city, so you’d been sitting working diligently for over an hour before the elevator dinged, signaling his arrival. Your cheeks instantly started to heat at the sight of him, his own cheeks pinkened by the cold, and his dark eyes burning with all of their usual intensity.

“Good morning,” he said, shrugging off his coat.

You waited with bated breath, expecting - what, you weren’t entirely sure. Something. Some acknowledgement of the way he’d kissed you, or maybe an explanation of why he’d left so abruptly. Instead, there was nothing.

“Did VDK email yet?” He asked.

All you could do was stare at him as a couple of seconds ticked by.

Had you imagined it? Were you misremembering it?

No. No. He’d never kissed you like that before, never pressed you against a wall as if he wanted to devour you whole.

(He didn’t want to acknowledge it. It had meant nothing to him.)

“Yes,” you finally found your voice. “They want to do it on Thursday, but I - I didn’t accept yet because I know you’re usually busy on Thursday evenings...”

Billy ran his teeth over his lower lip, giving it more consideration than you expected. You hadn’t thought to ask what it was he did on Thursday evenings but, now, you found yourself wondering. What could it possibly be that had him hesitating to agree to the very thing he’d been after for weeks?

“Tell them we’ll be there,” he eventually said.

At some point, he’d come to linger behind you, looking at the email you’d pulled up on your laptop, watching as you diligently started to type up a response.

“Do you have something to wear?” He asked as you hit send.

You glanced up, over your shoulder at him, discomfort clear on your face. You didn’t want him to rush off and buy you another obscenely expensive dress.

“I’ll find something, don’t worry,” you answered.

“If you need to, I can -”

“Billy, it’s fine.”

“Okay,” he relented, leaving it at that.

But, still, he lingered by your desk almost expectantly.

(Did he want you to bring up this kiss? Could you bring it up without dying of embarrassment? No. No, if Billy wanted to talk about it, then he had to be the one to bring it up.)

“Did you have breakfast?” Is what you decided to ask, blurring the line between the part of you that was still his PA and the part of you that now genuinely seemed to worry that he might not have eaten anything that morning.

“No, just piss-awful coffee at the meeting,” he shrugged.

You bit back the comment that you wanted to make, reminding yourself that he was a fully grown man who was more than capable of looking after himself.

“Okay, I’ll go get you a pastry and a coffee,” you told him.

Billy barely moved as you slid back your seat and stood, and you found yourself standing directly in front of him with little space between you. His jaw clenched and his eyes fixed on yours, but you refused to ask why, refused to ask what he expected from you.

If he wanted to talk about the kiss, he’d need to be the one to start. Simple as that.

When you said nothing, he stepped back and turned, not giving you another glance as he slipped into his office.

Okay, so that was how things were going to be. You shook your head and headed for the elevator, forgoing grabbing your coat and wasting time bundling up - you were only running across the street, how bad could it be?

Bad, as it turned out.

And it only got worse from there.

Carl gave you a look as you headed for the doors, but you didn’t realise what the look was for until you stepped out into the bitter cold wind. It was a bad idea, a stupid idea, but it would take far too long to go back upstairs to grab your coat.

Wrapping your arms across your chest, you hurried across the street to The Bean Grinder, your thin blouse and skirt doing little to ward off the cold.

You were shivering as you stood in line and, for one in your life, found yourself glad to be stuck behind so many undecided customers, basking in the warmth of the coffee shop for as long as possible.

The wind was biting on your face as you struggled to hurry back to the Anvil building, Billy’s coffee in one hand and a bag containing a bearclaw in the other. You tried your best to ignore it and pretend like the cold wasn’t causing your lungs to ache in your chest - it was only across the street, you’d be fine, you told yourself.

And you were.

You were fine, but your bad luck still wasn’t over.

“What’s going on?” You asked Carl when you noticed a few people standing around by the elevator.

“Elevator maintenance check,” he explained. “We did send out an email about it last week -”

“Shit, I completely forgot,” you said, letting out an awkward groan.

It wasn’t like you to forget - in fact, you were all but certain you’d even written it on your desk calendar so you wouldn’t forget. But you’d been so eager to get out of the office and away from - from whatever that had been with Billy, that you hadn’t even thought about it.

Carl gave you a sympathetic look. “It’s probably going to take at least another twenty minutes. I can call upstairs, let Mr Russo know that you’re -”

“No,” you interrupted. “It’s fine. I’ll take the stairs.”

“Are you sure?” He asked before hesitating. “You’re already looking a little out of breath.”

“I’m fine. Really. It’s just the cold,” you answered, shrugging it off and saying a hasty goodbye as you headed towards the stairwell, trying not to curse under your breath until you were up at least one floor.

It certainly helped you warm up, but climbing up to the seventh floor caused the ache in your lungs to intensify and, by the time you got back to the office, you were more than a little winded.

Billy’s eyes were fixed on his laptop as you entered his office and he didn’t look up as you approached his desk. It wasn’t until you placed his drink and the paper bag containing the bearclaw down that his eyes finally lifted and confusion filled his face.

You didn’t understand why he was staring until he spoke.

“Are you okay?”

You realised that you were wheezing and, in an act of utter stupidity, you tried to even out your breathing by forcing a deep breath, and that just made things worse. You pressed a hand to your mouth and tried to stifle a cough.

“I-I’m fine,” you managed, holding back a cough. “Just a-a little out of breath.”

He moved before you could even blink, standing and taking hold of your arms, guiding you into his chair. The leather was warm and soft, and you wanted nothing more than to sink back into it but you couldn’t, not when Billy crouched in front of you and took your face in his hands.

His eyes searched yours, though you had no idea what he was looking for.

Billy didn’t speak, nor did he ask you to try to. He just stayed with you, his thumb tenderly brushing your cheek as your breathing slowly levelled out.

He held your gaze and you found that, even though you wanted to, you couldn’t look away. You didn’t know what was going on behind those dark eyes, what thoughts were running through his head, but you felt seen, exposed.

Your hand somehow ended up on his, holding it against your cheek like some part of you was scared he’d pull away again, that he’d leave you reeling just like he had the night before.

It didn’t take long for your breathing to settle and your chest to stop aching.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

What’s wrong and not are you okay. It was the second time he’d seen you like this and Billy wasn’t an idiot, he’d obviously realised that there was some underlying cause you weren’t telling him about.

“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” you lied. “I forgot to put my coat on when I went across the street, and I had to use the stairs because they’re doing a maintenance check on the elevator -”

“You should have waited for them to finish. It only takes them like twenty minutes.”

There was a firmness in his voice that you didn’t expect, that you didn’t appreciate.

“Your coffee would’ve gotten cold,” you answered back, trying to contain your own annoyance.

“Jesus Christ,” Billy muttered, pulling away from you and standing. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked away from you for a moment. “Do you think I care about hot coffee when you’re wheezing up a lung in my office?”

You didn’t have an answer for that. Honestly, you had no idea what Billy cared about.

“You skipped breakfast,” you said, not entirely sure why that was what bothered you.

His lips parted but, whatever he’d been wanting to say never came. He looked... confused, like he couldn’t understand why you even cared that he hadn’t eaten. But, he didn’t ask why, and you were glad because you didn’t have an answer.

“Go get your things,” he said after an uncomfortable pause.

“What? Why?” You asked.

“Because I’m taking you home.”

“I told you, I’m fine,” you protested, getting to your feet. “I don’t want any preferential treatment or -”

“I can’t work if I’m worrying about you,” Billy snapped.

And -

You were left so stunned that you didn’t know what to say. You couldn’t reconcile what he was saying and how he was acting with what you thought you knew about him, about your ‘relationship’. In no scenario could you imagine Billy actually worrying about you so, of course, you didn’t know what to say.

“I -” you tried.

“Please, just... don’t fight me on this?”

All you could do was stare, rendered speechless by the pleading look on his face. You didn’t want to leave work early and you certainly didn’t need to, but seeing Billy looking almost distressed by it all left you feeling like you couldn’t refuse.

You took a moment to consider him, to consider everything you knew about him, both as your boss and as a person. Only a few weeks ago, you’d have known exactly how to temper his mood and get the day back on track, but this was something new, something different. You didn’t understand this.

“The elevator’s still out of order,” was all you could think to say.

But, still, you moved, making your way out of his office to collect your things. You dropped your laptop into your bag, deciding that you’d carry on your work from home - with or without his permission. As you pulled on your coat, you heard him on the phone, calling down to the lobby to ask if the elevator was working again.

You perched on the edge of your desk as you waited, silently cursing yourself for letting all of this happen. You should’ve worn your coat, should’ve waited for the elevator - or at least remembered that it was being checked before offering to go for coffee.

Billy’s phone rang and, a few seconds later, he was striding out of his office, pulling on his coat.

He told you to follow and you did, letting him usher you into the now-running again elevator with a hand on your back. Neither of you spoke or even seemed to know what to say as the elevator descended.

All you could think about was whether he’d eaten his bearclaw.

As the doors opened, you just... followed. You moved on autopilot, not sure what else you were supposed to do. The car was already waiting and you were quickly bundled inside. And, still, you remained silent.

The quiet was enough to have your paranoia rearing its ugly head; he thought you couldn’t look after yourself, that you were burdensome.

Neither of you spoke until you were in your apartment, completely alone.

“You’re mad at me,” he said.

It wasn’t a question.

You watched him as he moved through your apartment like he owned it, heading into the kitchen and grabbing two mugs to make coffee.

“I’m not mad,” you answered, shrugging off your coat and following him into the kitchen. “I just don’t need you to look after me.”

It didn’t even occur to you that you were echoing something he’d said to you only a week before.

“When was the last time you let anyone look after you?”

It wasn’t a jab at you, he wasn’t accusing you of anything, but there was some hidden depth to the question. He was genuinely asking, though from the tone of his voice, he already seemed to know the answer. An answer that you refused to give him.

Never.

Never in your adult life had you allowed someone to look after you.

And you weren’t about to start now, especially not with your boss, the man who was paying you to fake being in a relationship with him.

You let out a sigh and turned away from him, heading towards the sofa. It wasn’t long before he joined you, sitting beside you, a hot mug of coffee in each hand. He handed you yours without a word and you didn’t even dare to think about how he’d not only come to learn exactly how you took your coffee, but where everything was in your kitchen so he could make it.

While you slowly sipped your drink, you both remained silent, neither sure what to say to the other.

Your phone buzzed with a message from Frank Castle’s secretary, and you let out a soft sigh.

“Mr Castle would like to see you before this afternoon’s meeting,” you said, not looking up from your phone.

Then it was Billy’s turn to sigh, and that sigh said more than words ever could. You knew he didn’t want you working, that he’d brought you home specifically to stop you, but you couldn’t because, without you, his day didn’t run smoothly.

He finished his coffee and got to his feet.

“Please at least try to get some rest,” he said, resigned to the fact that you were going to continue working regardless of what he said. “And if you’re not feeling well tomorrow -”

“I told you, I’m -”

“If you’re not feeling well tomorrow,” he repeated, “call in sick.”

“Fine.”

You both already knew that you wouldn’t but it wasn’t worth the argument.

He insisted that you stayed where you were as he let himself out and you were glad, not sure you could handle a repeat performance of last night's kiss by the door.

The next day you were back at your desk before Billy even got to the office, his coffee and pastry, a pain au chocolat today, waiting for him on his desk. He slowed as he walked past you to his office but he didn’t say anything other than a brusque good morning to you.

Fortunately, over the next few days he warmed to you again, seeming to want to pretend that it had never happened. And, while it wasn’t the healthiest way to deal with it, you were more than happy to just slip back into things, deciding to ignore everything from the kiss onwards.

You didn’t spend much time with each other out of work, though that was through no fault of Billy’s. It seemed like every day, something would come up that demanded his attention, keeping him at his desk late into the night and, when you offered to stay late to help him, he’d send you home in his car.

By the time Thursday evening rolled around, you weren’t sure if Billy would be in any fit state for the VDK dinner, but there he was, waiting next to his car by the curb as you stepped outside.

As he had the night of the gala, Billy asked that you pack a bag and spend the night at his apartment and, despite everything, you were more than happy to after waking up that morning to find that the heating in your apartment wasn’t working.

His eyes widened as you approached, taking in the sight of you and what you were wearing. The dress that he’d bought you. He didn’t say anything, didn’t speak at all until you were both in the car and the driver had started the engine.

“I thought you didn’t like that dress,” he said.

“I never said that. I said it was too expensive.”

He was silent for a few seconds before; “I’m glad you kept it, you look amazing.”

You smiled at him, finally taking a moment to appreciate how good he looked, his charcoal suit immaculately hugging his figure and not a dark hair out of place. It wasn’t the first time you’d thought about it, but you found yourself considering how handsome he was as he glanced out the window, but he was only beautiful when he looked at you and smiled in return.

Soon, and for the second time in less than a week, you found yourself outside the VDK Manhattan Hotel. Fortunately, this time there was no fanfare as you approached the doors, no red carpet or lines of photographers but, just like the night of the gala, you entered with Billy’s hand in yours.

You were met by a member of the hotel staff and taken in the elevator up to the penthouse.

Your hand gripped Billy’s as you stepped out into the most lavish looking hotel suite that you’d ever seen - which, admittedly, wasn't saying a lot as you couldn’t remember ever seeing the inside of a hotel suite before, let alone a penthouse suite. It even put Billy’s apartment to shame, but you weren’t given time to really appreciate it.

“There you are, just in time,” Catherine Van Der Koy, said as she approached you, “we were just about to have some drinks before dinner.”

You and Billy both greeted her before you found yourselves being separated.

“William, I believe you’re acquainted with my son-in-law and grandson?” She said, motioning to a group of men sitting on the sofa drinking what looked to be scotch. Billy nodded. “Good, go and have a drink while we catch up.”

He started to move but, for a moment, you were reluctant to let go of his hand. You didn’t want him to leave your side, and you felt his hand squeeze yours in silent apology just before his fingers slipped away.

“Don’t worry,” Catherine said as you watched him go, “they’ve all promised to be on their best behaviour tonight.”

That did nothing to settle your nerves, even though you knew that Billy was more than capable of handling himself. Knowing how some of these people saw him, you didn’t want to leave Billy to face them alone, but Catherine took your arm and led you into the suite’s large dining room where a group of mostly women sat drinking and chatting.

“Have you ever stayed in one of our hotels before?” Catherine asked.

“No,” you answered, feeling your cheeks start to warm, “they’re a little out of my price range.”

“Not any more, I’ll bet,” said an unfamiliar voice.

A young woman stepped in front of you. She had a smirk on her lips and you couldn’t decide if she was joking or if there was something more pointed to the comment.

“This is my granddaughter Leah,” Catherine said.

You introduced yourself but, clearly, it wasn’t necessary. Leah Van Der Koy knew all about you. She had an almost nasal way of speaking that made every comment sound like it was a thinly veiled barb, but you quickly realised that it was just the way she spoke.

Catherine remained silent as Leah brought up things she’d seen on the gossip blogs about you and Billy, pointing out how cute the pair of you had looked together leaving the movie festival you’d attended a couple of weeks ago.

“Leah is in charge of VDK’s social media,” Catherine explained. “She likes to keep her finger on the pulse.”

On the pulse of what exactly, you didn’t dare ask.

“You have no idea how many people are losing their minds over you right now,” Leah told you. “Do you have TikTok or Insta?”

You shook your head, not sure why she wanted to know or why anyone would be losing their minds over you.

“You should get on it,” Leah continued. “With all the attention you’re getting right now, you could make a killing as an influencer.”

It took every ounce of composure you had not to cringe at the thought. Just the idea made you feel ill - you didn’t like the attention and you certainly didn’t want to attract more of it.

“Give me your phone?” She asked and, for reasons you couldn’t even begin to understand, you did. She tapped the screen a few times before handing it back to you. “I put my number in there, let me know if you ever need any social media advice.”

“Leah dear, stop harassing your grandmother’s guest.”

Another woman appeared behind Leah and just one look at her told you that she was Leah’s mother, Catherine’s daughter. They all had the same high cheekbones and delicate noses.

“This is my daughter Faye,” Catherine offered.

Again, you introduced yourself.

“I love your dress,” Faye said. “It looks like a Sophie Harrington piece.”

“Oh, uh -” you stumbled over your words, looking down at yourself as you tried to remember the name of the boutique Billy’ had bought it from, “- I think that was where it came from?”

“Faye has always had an eye for fashion and design,” Catherine explained with a noticeable degree of pride in her voice. “She’s in charge of a lot of the interior design of our hotels.” She then paused and upon noticing your discomfort, waved away her daughter and granddaughter. “Let’s get a drink.”

You nodded as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

The dining room had its own bar and bartender - you didn’t dare ask if he came included in the nightly price of the room, as you already felt like you were embarrassing yourself enough.

“You look positively terrified.”

Her words pulled you back to the moment and the heat across your cheeks intensified.

“Sorry. I’m just -” again you awkwardly swallowed again, “- I’m not really used to... all this.”

“What part of it is bothering you?” She asked, curious and thankfully not offended.

“Big dinner parties with people I don’t know, people who already know me even though I’ve never met them, people knowing more about my dress than I do -”

“Take a breath,” she interrupted.

You realised belatedly that you’d probably sounded like you were panicking or freaking out, and forced yourself to take a slow breath.

“I shouldn’t have worn this dress,” you muttered a moment later.

“Why not?”

“Because Billy bought it for me.” There was no point in lying, everyone there probably knew that there was no way you could have afforded to buy it for yourself.

“What difference does that make?”

“It’s too expensive,” you answered. “Everyone will think I just want Billy’s money.”

Catherine studied you for a moment and then handed you a wine glass. You’d been so lost in your own awkwardness that you hadn’t even realised she’d asked the bartender for a drink for you.

“Does he buy you a lot of things?” She asked.

“No,” you quickly answered. “And I didn’t even want him to buy this. I told him to take it back, but he wouldn’t. I only wore it tonight because he’s had a rough week and I thought it might cheer him up.”

You hadn’t told Billy that was the reason you’d chosen to wear it. Hell, you’d barely even admitted it to yourself. But it had been a difficult week and you’d thought your discomfort would be worth it just to see him smile.

“Did it?” She asked before clarifying. “Cheer him up?”

“I - I hope so,” you said, finding your eyes drifting towards the door, wondering how Billy was getting on.

“It’s not easy - loving someone who gives so much of themselves to their work.”

Your gaze dropped and you bit your lip, a tidal wave of embarrassment washing over you. You were embarrassed by the lie, by how the dishonesty made you feel. That was all. That was what the feeling in your stomach was, and that was why your heart seemed to stutter. It wasn’t that you loved him or that you were in love with him.

No.

While there might have been some feelings of fondness, closeness even, what you felt wasn’t love. And whatever Billy felt for you...

“Oh dear,” Catherine said, pulling you back to the moment, “has he not said the words yet? You mustn’t let that discourage you, men like William speak with actions before words.”

Actions.

Actions like pressing you against a wall and kissing you like his life depended on it?

“Come and sit,” she instructed and, again, you followed her, joining the rest of the group sitting around the table.

You made small talk with the group but, mostly, you were happy to just fade into the background, mostly ignored. After about forty minutes, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom but, instead of returning to the dining room straight away, you found yourself exploring the suite and ending up on the balcony.

It looked out over Central Park - though the low light made it hard to anything beyond the lit paths that weaved through the park, you imagined that the view was stunning during the day.

You hadn’t meant to linger, but the cold night air was a relief and the city noises were calming after the constant chatter and laughter inside.

You didn’t hear someone else step out onto the balcony, you hadn’t even noticed that there was a door besides the one you’d used, but you recognised his voice immediately.

“Little dove,” he muttered softly, causing your heart to skip a beat.

Turning, you watched as Billy approached you.

“What are you doing out here alone?” He asked.

“I -” you started to answer but faltered when he placed a warm hand on your bare arm, “- I just needed to get some air.”

“You’re cold.” Statement, not question. And before you could answer, he’d taken off his jacket and placed it around your shoulders.

Part of you wanted to protest, wanted to worry about him getting cold, but his jacket was so soft, so warm, and it smelled like his cologne, and once it was draped around you, you didn’t want to give it back.

Despite his jacket, you shivered, and Billy stepped closer, heat radiating from his body.

“How’s it going?” He asked softly, leaning closer as if he was worried you’d be overheard, even though you were completely alone.

“Good, I think...” you answered just as softly, barely noticing that your eyes were fixed on his chest.

“What’s wrong?”

You wanted to hate how easily he could see through you, how he’d gotten better at understanding you in the weeks that you’d spent together, but you couldn’t. You’d wanted him to see you as a person and, now, he did.

“Tell me,” he said.

“I don’t feel like I belong in your world,” you confessed softly. “It’s exhausting.”

“I don’t feel like I belong either,” Billy offered.

Still, you couldn’t look him in the eye, knowing that you’d melt the moment that you did. You felt ridiculous for letting what Catherine had said get to you, but now you were overthinking every little thing he did, wondering if -

No. Nope. Absolutely not.

He didn’t love you. He wasn’t in love with you.

And you didn’t love him.

None of it was real - he’d told you himself, he found it easy to lie, and that was all it was. A lie. A fiction.

But, when you felt fingers beneath your chin, urging you to look up, you did. And when your eyes met his - yeah, as you’d feared, butterflies took flight in your stomach and your breath caught. The darkness of the night turned his eyes even darker but, still, they seemed to spark and burn when he looked at you.

“You belong here with me,” he said.

Before you could speak, the space between you disappeared. You weren’t sure which of you moved first, but his lips were soon on yours.

It was soft and slow, his tongue coaxing your lips apart so you could sink into a deeper kiss. You could taste the scotch he’d been drinking, and you were sure he could taste your wine. It was the excuse that you’d use for all of this - you’d both been drinking on empty stomachs.

And, besides, it was all for show. (Even though no one was watching, it was all for show.)

You pulled him closer, letting his body pin you against the balcony’s ledge. Even if it was just for show, there was nothing to say you couldn’t enjoy it, nothing to silence that voice in your head that demanded more, more, more.

It felt like a slow descent into madness, the kiss turning more heated the longer it continued, and you lost yourself to the fantasy, to the idea that you could belong with Billy.

You gripped him tight as you were lifted and placed on the ledge, the cold metal railing at your back as Billy stepped between your legs.

He’d never been so close before but, somehow, it wasn’t enough. You wanted to feel more of his body against your, you wanted to feel his skin beneath your hands, his -

A soft noise escaped you into the kiss as his hand started to blaze a trail up your thigh, slowing only a fraction before dipping beneath the hem of your dress. Your cheeks heated, and some small part of you knew that you should pull away, tell him to stop, but it was easily drowned out and overruled by the part of you that wanted.

His hand continued upwards and your heart raced faster. You knew what he’d find if his fingers reached your panties. The lace was already starting to soak with your arousal, and you should have been embarrassed at how wet you were just from one little kiss.

Billy nipped at your lip, drawing another noise from you, something a little louder and a lot more desperate, before plunging his tongue back into the warmth of your mouth.

Want me, every fibre of your being screamed against your better judgement, leaving you feeling so needy and desperate for something that wasn’t even real. You held him tighter, pulled him closer, your tongue greedy against his. You parted your legs a little wider, making room for his hand as his fingers finally reached the edge of your panties.

The first brush of his fingertips through the wet lace had your back aching, pushing yourself into his touch, his body, into everything that was Billy Russo.

Then came a sound, a voice, that had both Billy’s hand and lips pulling away from you.

Faye Van Der Koy telling you both that dinner was about to be served.

The weight of everything that had just happened hit you like a ton of bricks. You turned your head, looking away from Billy as shame filled your whole body. He tensed and pulled back.

“Sorry,” he said.

Sorry.

... what was he sorry for?

(For getting carried away, for doing exactly what you’d told him he couldn’t do, for treating you like an object for his pleasure. He was sorry because it wasn’t real and now you’d have to face the consequences.)

You held your breath when you felt his hands on your hips, lifting you down from the ledge, and when you looked at him again, you found that he looked almost as lost as you felt.

“I -” he started.

“We should go inside.”

Whatever he wanted to say, you were certain that you didn’t want to hear it.

Billy hesitated for a beat before nodding, clumsily taking your hand in his and leading you back inside.

Catherine Van Der Koy gave you a telling smirk as you and Billy took your seats at the table and, as the food was served, you felt like everyone at the table was staring at you. You didn’t realise your entire body was tensed until you felt Billy’s hand on your thigh beneath the table, offering a gentle but reassuring squeeze.

The conversation jumped around over dinner and you were happy to just silently observe it while you ate. They talked about business, politics, and the social scene. You paid attention, filing away everything that you thought might be important, and only speaking when a question was directly posed to you.

For someone who’d told you that he didn’t belong there, Billy had an infinitely easier time inserting himself into the conversation. Unlike you, he had limitless reserves of confidence.

Once dinner was over and fresh drinks were served, Billy’s arm found its way around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

It was all for show, but you were so exhausted by everything that you were more than happy to rest your head against his shoulder, hoping that the night would soon be over.

When there was a lull in the conversation, Billy shifted to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You okay, little dove?” He asked.

The pet name had your heart skipping a beat and you sank closer.

“Fine, just tired,” you answered.

“Do you want to go soon?” His voice was soft and full of a sort of caring that always caught you off-guard.

“No, it’s fine, I don’t want to ruin the evening,” you said.

“Nonsense,” Catherine interjected. You hadn’t even realised she’d been listening. “I take it you’re both working in the morning.”

“We are,” Billy answered.

“But you’re the boss, why not just give yourself the day off?” Leah asked from the other side of the table.

“I would,” he said, implying that he wasn’t the one that had an issue with it.

“I’ve told you,” you said directly at Billy despite the fact that most of the table was listening, “I like to keep our professional and personal lives separate. Besides, Anvil would crumble if I took a day off.”

It was a gross overstatement and you found yourself grinning at Billy and - and then he let out one of those laughs and pressed his lips to your forehead again.

“She’s right,” he conceded, “I honestly don’t know what I’d do without her.”

There was truth in his words, but you didn’t want to think too much about why.

After a few more minutes, the two of you were on your feet, the Van Der Koy’s wishing you both goodnight with promises being thrown out about more dinners and social events in future. Catherine escorted you both to the lift, waiting with you, and putting the full weight of her scrutiny on Billy.

“William, when you propose to this girl, do make sure that it’s somewhere romantic. She deserves it,” Catherine said, smirking as Billy’s face paled at the suggestion.

But any shock he felt was short lived and he quickly rebounded with; “first I need to convince her to move in with me.”

Suddenly it was Catherine’s turn to look shocked, her attention quickly turning back to you as your cheeks heated.

Thankfully the elevator arrived before you had to try and think of a way to explain it to her. You were quickly ushered inside and Catherine promised to be in touch to see you both soon.

When the doors slid shut, you let out a sigh of relief.

“I think that went well,” Billy muttered, letting out an exhausted sigh of his own.

A/N : 😅 I think at this point I'm enjoying torturing these two far more than I should be. Next chapter might make some of you scream a little but please don't worry, it's all part of my master plan. Also those wondering about readers mysterious condition, that will all be addressed later on, don't worry. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this one as much as I enjoyed writing it. (Also sorry that I keep cock-blocking Billy in all of my fics)

As ever I adore you for your likes/comments/reblogs and I can't wait to hear your reactions to the balcony scene. Have a great weekend everyone!!

If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! Otherwise new chapters will be posted around 7:30pm GMT on Fridays.

Tag list :

@oliviaewl @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @benbarnesprettygurl @dreadfulxives18

@danzer8705 @snowkestrel @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @intothesoul @uniquehijo

@anitaxl @solacedragonx @justiceforquentin @ladyblacky @marvelsunlight

@sweetserendipity65 @mrsalwayswrite @bunnygirlwriter876 @highwaytomichelle @bruxa0007

@jazzclubprincess @arwenscarlettalisonsloaneb @the-swift-escape @s0urw00lf

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #the punisher #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #(ii)wii ff

127 notes · View notes

man-i-love-fanfiction · 2 months ago

Text

To Share the Space with Simple Living Things - Hozier x Fem!Florist!Reader

Chapter 6: Pink Camellias - Longing For You

Summary: Andy stops by on a particularly stressful day, and a different favorite customer gives you a bit of a rude awakening.

Word Count: 2442

Author's Note: Hey my lovelies! Thank you all so much for the positive feedback I've received from so many of you since the last chapter. Enjoy this chapter, this one and the next one are going to be on the shorter side to prepare for an upcoming behemoth i have planned ;)

tag list: @celery-grace @gayandfairycore @deathmybride @harry-bowie-mercury @hodgepodge-musings @blue-eyed-bug @secretttytttttttttt @dinner-n-dxatribes @wub-wub-wub-wub-wub @padfootblackswh0r3 @axel-the-boy-witch

fic under the cut <3

So far, your day was terrible, which meant it was on par with the rest of your week.

Everything you had detailed on that late night phone call to Andy a few weeks ago had only gotten worse. The date for foreclosure was slowly approaching, your debt nearly canceled out by the sheer amount of customers you were getting recently. You could only imagine it had just become an online trend to… be nice to your partner? Whatever the incentive was, it was helping out the business, but not so much your wallet.

You often brought your frustrations to Andy, and he was so supportive it made your heart ache. Even though he’d explicitly stated often that it was completely fine for you to vent to him like this, you apologized profusely every time. This is how talking to him would start, though after a few minutes they diverged to a million other topics.

This was exactly the kind of conversation you were planning on having when he visited you today. And you couldn't wait. A countdown of the seconds until he walked in was playing in your brain.

One, two, three.

You needed the break from your life that talking to Andy offered you.

_Four, five, six._

You craved the stability, how even if your life was crumbling before you, you would always be able to find him in the rubble.

Seven, eight, nine.

He wasn't your sole motivator to keep going, but he definitely helped.

Ten—

"Hey there.”

Uncharacteristically perfect timing.

You pulled your attention away from the clock on the wall to catch your first glimpse of him for the day. For the first time since you’d met him, he was wearing a hat, a black baseball cap with some logo on it you didn't recognize. His hair was tied back into a bun. Though he had his attempts at being stylish from time to time, today was not one of them, his zip-up hoodie and jeans making it evident that today was not a day where he felt like trying. Maybe he was having as crappy of a day as you were. Just in case he was, you greeted him with more enthusiasm in your voice than usual.

“Hi! How's it going?”

“Pretty alright, actually,” he started, before continuing his sentence with a question that seemed to give you a headache simply by hearing it. “How are you?”

You sighed before you spoke, grimacing just at the thought of your emotions.

“I am so stressed that talking about how stressed I am will only make me more stressed. I need a change of pace. And topic.”

He picked up what you were putting down immediately, something that had become almost like second nature to him. A good distraction.

“There was something I’ve been meaning to ask you, now that you've reminded me.”

Oh no.

The thoughts of what he could possibly have to ask you began to cloud your mind, and some of the various possibilities made your heart beat much faster than it should. When he started so say something again, there was a hint of nervousness in his voice. Unusual for you, since you’d grown so accustomed to him being more confident in your presence, but you let him speak.

“So… ehm… my birthday’s coming up in a couple of weeks. To celebrate, some of my friends and I are gonna go to the pub and I was wondering if you'd like to come along.”

To say you were relieved was an understatement. The wide smile on your face was an answer in itself, but you responded anyway.

“Andy, I’d love to.”

“Great! Grand. I’ll mark you down as saying ‘yes’.”

“There’s no way I’d say no. Wouldn't miss it for the world.”

A smile, almost the same as your own, grew on his lips.

“By the way, this will be a genuine get-together. You’ll get to meet some of my other friends, as well.”

You feigned shock.

“So it's not just me and this Alex fellow you talk about?”

“No. Contrary to popular belief, I do have more than just two friends.”

You both let out your own laughs, almost in unison with one another. To be joking around with someone you trusted and kept so close… for a moment, it helped you believe everything was alright.

“I’m excited to celebrate with everyone,” you said, sincerity returning to your tone. “Get ready for a present for the ages. For the history books, even.”

He shook his head in denial, stopping your excitement in its tracks.

“Y/N, you don't have to get me anything . I’m a grown man, I’ll live if I don't get a birthday present.”

“Well, I’m a grown woman and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't get you anything. So let me-”

The conversation was interrupted by the sound of the bell above the door ringing.

You peeked behind him at who had just walked in. You had to look down to meet her gaze, and when you realized you recognized her weathered face, you smiled.

“Violet! Great to see you! I’ll be right with you.”

Andy tilted his head at your exclamation.

“Violet?”

“Remember when I said you were tied for the title of my favorite customer with a little old lady? I wasn't joking. Meet your competitor.”

You watched as he looked over his shoulder, his head turning to be met with a small, older woman with gray hair and possibly the warmest smile you’d ever seen. Clutching onto purse with one hand like her life depended on it, she gave him a small wave.

“I think I’ll shut myself up for now. You have actual clients to get to.”

“Alright. I’ll come by your work tomorrow. Oh, and about your birthday. Just text me the time and the address and I’ll be there. With an amazing present because you can't stop me.”

A small smile, the kind that barely showed his teeth, spread across his face.

“Thank you. I will see you then.”

He waved goodbye, and you could’ve sworn you saw ink smudged on the side of his hands.

Both of you watched as he left, though with different intentions behind your gazes. You pulled your eyes away when he left, almost afraid to keep your gaze on him. Violet's eyes, however, seemed to linger, from shock more than anything else. Once he was out of both of your fields of vision, you returned to facing each other.

Violet had become part of your routine, and you slowly became part of each other's lives. Every time she came in, she talked to you about anything on her mind. Yet for the chatterbox that she was, she managed to be an enigma for you. She came in monthly, on the first day of the month, always ordering flowers as a centerpiece for when her “group of ladies” came around. You couldn't tell if she was in a book club or a coven, but neither answer would surprise you. In as sweet a tone as ever, she initiated your conversation.

“I’ve been here a thousand times, but I don't think I’ve ever seen that man before. Who was that?”

“Oh, that's Andy. He's my…”

You couldn't quite find the words to complete that sentence. Andy was your friend, obviously, but the word felt so odd, almost bitter on your tongue. You couldn't bring yourself to say it. To save yourself any pain, you tiptoed around it.

“He works at the tattoo parlor a few blocks away. He visits me sometimes.”

“He seems like such a sweet young man.”

“He is! He really is.” You nodded.

Violet, despite her years of living and likely unlimited wisdom, found nothing wrong with her next sentence.

“I don't mean to pry, but I had no idea you were dating someone! How long have you two been together?"

Your eyes widened so much you were afraid they would pop out of your skull. What in the world could have made her ask that? Why did your palms get so clammy? Had someone turned up the heat?

“Oh, no.” You shook your head. “No, no, no. Andrew and I… we aren't dating. We're just friends.”

The older woman raised a quizzical brow, as if she didn't believe you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, Violet. I’d know if I was in a relationship.”

“Then, is he sure?”

“He's sure. too. We're not dating. We're friends. Friends.”

Were you trying to convince her or yourself?

She shook her head, accompanied by a tsk, tsk, tsk.

“What is it?”

“Dear, I’ve been around for… I’m not even sure how many years. I know a look filled with love when I see it. And the way that boy looks at you is the same look I’ve seen in loves that last lifetimes. It's the same look my wife gives me every single day. One of you should do something about that look.”

Her thorough analysis left you stunned. You attempted to put the pieces together in your brain, trying to mask your confusion as you did so.

“I’d never noticed that before.”

“Youth is wasted on the young. What’s the point of eyesight if you're not going to use it?”

You chuckled at that, though you also used it as a way to ignore the truth behind the statement. Did he look at you a certain way? Were you so deep into your oblivion that you just never noticed before? Or so deep into your own infatuation, too busy staring at him through your own eyes, to pay attention to how you might look through his? With all your newfound. overthinking all you could do was reply with a small, genuine smile.

“Thank you for that. I appreciate the advice.”

Violet was capricious in her conversation, easily distracted if you could get her back on the right track. In this moment, you utilized her fickleness to steer her back on track. Or at least, get the conversation back on the track you were comfortable with.

“Do you have a bouquet request?”

She thought for a moment, giving you a slow nod before she verbalized her answer.

“Well, it is starting to be spring time, and the girls and I just finished reading a Jane Austen novel, so love is in the air. Maybe focus on pink. I’ll let you handle the rest. I’ll be back later on to pick it up."

She placed the same vase she used monthly on the counter. It bounced back and forth between you two, exchanged each time you created a new arrangement. The only thing that changed was the color of the bow on the exterior.

“Sounds like a plan. Have a lovely day.”

“You too, dear.”

One last warm smile crossed her face before she went to leave. She shuffled her way out the door, leaving you room to get started.

Violet’s lenient instructions were perfect; it gave you a guideline, but mostly the creative control was in your hands. The only thing you had to keep in mind was pink.

The first idea your mind went to was pink camellias. They were in season, and with spring on the horizon, they were perfect. And you couldn't turn down adding them in when their meaning was so poetic. Longing for you. It tugged at your heartstrings just to think about it — how people from hundreds of years ago felt the same emotions, the same deep want or need for a person, as people do today. A feeling so strong they couldn't put it in words, or didn't trust themselves to say it. So they let a flower take its place.

Pink camellias had to be the focus.

Using the vase Violet had left behind, you worked the rest of your suggestions, mixing and matching until both beauty and semantics aligned. Pink roses, perfect happiness. Magenta zinnia, lasting affection. Mix in some white carnations for sweetness and innocence to break it up, and it was finished. The ladies were sure to love it, whether they were casting a spell or reading Jane Eyre.

For the first time in a few days, you wanted to feel calm. You had been too many things going on in your life for you to focus on being present.

There was so much stress looming over you recently. You were unsure just how much longer you would have your place of work. Your family and your friends all seemingly wanted you to be more ahead in your life than you were. You had a huge, almost debilitating crush on Andy, and he probably didn't reciprocate.

Andy. He had been there for you whenever you need to talk about all that was on your mind, his kindness never wavering. Even though he was receptive to you, there was still a sense of guilt for spilling your guts to him like that. You were there for him as well, of course, though he didn't have as many complaints about his daily life as you did. All his kindness and his attention only made you like him even more, only making you more nervous and stressed about liking him. It was a downward spiral, and an exceedingly dizzying one at that.

The flower shop was the only refuge you could have. When you weren't in a state of worry over orders or foreclosure, it was the part of your day that provided you the most comfort. You had the opportunity to make these beautiful works and showcase your creativity and here you were, taking it for granted. You needed to ground yourself, to take a breather, to be in the moment.

So in your moment of desperation, you turned to your flowers for comfort.

Being so exposed to the scent of the flowers every day for years meant you got used to them over time. You slowly got accustomed until you eventually couldn't even detect the unique aroma of your workplace.

You took a pause, and leaning over the arrangement, you took a deep breath.

You had literally stopped to smell the roses.

The more shocking part was that it worked. You had successfully grounded yourself by stopping to appreciate your surroundings. Surely that had to be a metaphor for something.

You were snapped out of your tranquility. Of course you were.

You heard a voice, slightly judgmental and maybe a bit concerned, from the other side of the room.

“What was that?”

You perked up at the sound of the bell above the door, and quickly pulled yourself away from the flowers.

“Nothing! How can I help you?”

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #hozier x reader #writing #fanfic #hozier fanfic #hozier fanfiction #writeblr #writers on tumblr #to share the space with simple living things

88 notes · View notes

paracosmic-murdock · 2 months ago

Text

vigilante like me

chapter eight: we could be the way forward, and i know i'll pay for it

pairing: matt murdock x black widow!vigilante!reader

summary: nights and nights of playing the hero as if that could redeem you that easily ended up taking you to new york, where you accidentally met the man who would turn your world upside down. a vigilante like you.

warnings/tags: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, injuries, mentions of murder and themes explored in the past couple chapters, mentions of reader being able to wear matt's clothes but it's not specified whether they're too big/too small/fit perfectly/etc., phd in applied flirting and ma in yearning studies, some smut (minors dni), takes place sometime during the blip, when born again comes out we might find out if my decisions of who were gone were right, spoilers/references of stuff and themes from daredevil (2015); avengers: infinity war (2018); avengers: endgame (2019) black widow (2021); and hawkeye (2021), but y'all must've watched all of those already so idc, yelena belova and the themes and events from the black widow (2021) movie are very relevant in this plot, song: cowboy like me (taylor swift)

word count: 3.6K

✰ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

“You alright?”

Matt nodded. “Yeah, why?”

“You're just acting weird,” you commented. “Are you sure you're alright?”

“I am, yes.”

“Okay,” You let it go, not quite convinced but also not wanting to keep him from leaving any longer. “So, you're going out now?”

“Uh, I guess.”

You pursed your lips. “Okay.”

“Are you alright?”

“Perfectly fine.”

The two of you sat in silence, both clearly hiding something, neither daring to give anything away.

“You went out,” Matt noted.

Your heart jumped in its place, which made him frown. Were you that affected at the thought of him knowing what you were up to?

“How do you know that?” you asked him, almost knowing the answer already.

“I smell a different fabric softener,” he replied. “Mine doesn't have any smell, and yours is coconut. There's also gunpowder. Coffee, the good one. Those weren't here before I left.”

You nodded. “I needed my clothes. And to protect myself in case they come for me… you know I couldn't take a punch if my life depended on it.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Matt sat beside you. “I could've gone with you.”

“No,” You shook your head. “I don't want them going after you. I know they couldn't take you, but I'd rather not risk it.”

“Okay,” Matt replied. “Anything else you'd like to talk about?”

“Such as…?”

“Are you going out again?”

“I'm not,” you lied, and, for the first time, Matt heard your heart beat faster. “Are you?”

“Yes, like every night.”

You put your head on his shoulder. “What's wrong with you? You're acting weird.”

“I'm just worried about you.”

“That's not it,” You sighed. “Do you… regret what happened between us?”

He immediately turned to you. “Sweetheart, don't say that. Don't ever believe something like that, alright? I like you, and this between us, whatever this is is what I want. You're what I want.”

“Are you sure? Because-”

“I am sure,” he confirmed. “Now, why don't you go to sleep? I'll be back as soon as possible.”

“I will, yeah.”

Matt kissed your forehead and stood up, ready to get changed.

You watched him attentively. The way he hesitantly searched for his suit as if he didn't know where it was or how he stopped for less than a second to focus on you.

He eventually left his apartment, and once you thought he was far away enough, you searched for the voice messages Svetlana had sent you not too long ago.

“I found the address of the apartment they rented. They've been here for a few weeks now, so I guess they were carefully plotting how to get to you,” she began. “Let me know when you leave your place so we can meet somewhere and get there together. I'm not sure we'll find them just like that, but we'll start from there.” The first audio ended there, and you played the second right away. “Someone I know has access to security cameras all around Hell's Kitchen. I'm pretty sure he hacks them or something. I called him, and he said he'd look for them tomorrow morning so we can see if they left or what. You know he works with the Russians and they're close with the ones here, so I found one of them and mentioned I'm Fyodor's sister and to tell him I'm looking for him; gave him a burner cell number. I'll let you know what I find.”

Matt was listening to the entire conversation from the rooftop, and him suddenly going down the stairs made you flinch. “Shit, Matt! What the hell is wrong with you?! You scared the fuck out of me.”

“Are you going to kill Fyodor and Crosby?” he asked as soon as he reached the floor. Matt took off his helmet and left it on the coffee table in front of you.

You bit your lip, hesitant. “Matt…”

“I'm not gonna stop you, I just want to know.”

“What do you think I should do? Just let them beat me almost to death and get away with it?”

“I'm not saying anything, sweetheart,” He crouched in front of you. “Tell me what you and Svetlana are going to do to them.”

“We want to.”

He sighed. “You don't have to do it.”

“What do you think is gonna happen if I leave this to the justice system like you do?” you questioned. “I give them my ID and all that, they find out I'm not an official citizen yet, they send me back to Russia, and I get killed there. Then, they're taken into custody, they deport Fyodor and there he's not gonna face a single consequence because he has enough influence to be let out. And I don't know about Crosby, but I don't like the idea of him breathing.”

“I understand that,”

“Then what, Matt?” You just looked at him, and something in his eyes was just… different. “What will them in jail do for me and my peace? I need them to know they can't do whatever they want. What stops people like them from doing the crime is the punishment, Matt, and if they are immune to it, they will do whatever the fuck they want without a thought in the world.”

“Hey,” he called for your attention, and you just knew he was conflicted. His eyes on yours felt so heavy and afflicted, and you just wanted to know how to help him. “Tell Svetlana not to look for them.”

“Matt?” You cupped his face, trying to ease him. The idea seemed far too distant, but the look in his eyes, though blind, is one you know more than enough. It's like anguish in disguise pleading from behind the bars of one's pupils to be let out, figured out. Needing a peace you feel like you will never get back because you took something that wasn't yours to end with, and you must pay the price of that emptiness you left. “Did you do it?”

He pursed his lips and stayed silent.

His face spoke more than a billion words, and now you knew what was wrong.

“It's okay,” you mumbled, pressing your forehead against his. “It's alright, I'll tell Svetlana to stop looking for them.”

“Will you tell her I did it?”

You shook your head. “No, I'll make something up, okay? You're safe.”

“You can't take the blame for this.”

“Don't worry about a thing, Matt,” you assured him. “Tell me everything that happened and we'll figure it out. Just tell me everything.”

“I went to Fogwell's and Crosby was still in the alleyway where I left him,” Matt started. You took off his gloves and intertwined his fingers with yours. “I took him to an abandoned building near the dock and made him call Fyodor. When he arrived, I hit him and took him where I left Crosby. I asked them about what happened and I hit them because I had to. I knew I had to hit Crosby and make him regret assaulting you and trying to kill you, but the more he talked about everything, the madder I got. I couldn't stop, and I didn't until my hands hurt. By then, they weren't breathing anymore.”

“What did they say?”

He sighed. “That you had it coming. They insulted you and said they would do it again. Among other things.”

“Okay,” You left his couch and sat on the floor in front of him. “Where are the bodies? We gotta get rid of-”

“I threw them into the river.”

“I am sorry, Matt,” you said, feeling your heart break at the thought that he broke who he is because of you. “This was all my fault. I'm not even worth the bother.”

Matt shook his head. “Don't say that.”

“Matt?” You lifted his chin. “Stay with me tonight? Please?”

“I have to go.”

“I know that,” you murmured. “I know if you don't go out, people get hurt. I get it, but… I want you here.”

You had no idea how you could tell Matt how difficult it is going to be for him once he has to hit somebody else again.

“I can stay a little bit longer.”

“Okay,” You smiled lightly and kissed his lips. Matt smiled in the kiss and felt like everything will be fine someday. “Tell me something.”

Matt hummed, sitting beside you. “I wish I could see your face.”

“Wow, sir,” You smiled lightly. “You're not missing out on much. As for me, I wish I couldn't see your ugly face.”

“You're ruining my self-esteem.”

“Good,” You took his face in your hands and pulled him closer. “I really like you, Matt.”

“I really like you, too,” He smirked and drove his hands to your neck, stroking your skin softly until he kissed you. “Very much.”

Matt left not too long after that, not before promising he wouldn't eavesdrop anymore. So, you made the call.

“I thought you wouldn't call,” she said instead of greeting you.

You cleared your throat. “Yeah, sorry about that. I was out and forgot my phone at home.”

“It's okay. Where are we meeting?”

“We're not. It's done.”

“What? Did you-”

“They knew I was at my place, so they followed me to the dock where I was supposed to meet with a guy I know who was gonna help me find them,” you began, walking around Matt's living room as you tried to relive the conversation with him. “Suddenly, they approached me, but I didn't waste a second. I shot them both. They're now at the bottom of the river.”

“Oh,” Svetlana mumbled. “How are you?”

“I'm fine, just… shaken and sick of this life. Of running and having to do shit like this despite having been out of the Red Room for so long.”

“I get that,” she replied. “I am sorry about all of this. About my brother.”

“This was for you, too, Sveta,” you mentioned. “I hope we can be at peace now.”

“I hope so, too,” You knew she smiled. “Don't be a stranger, okay?”

You chuckled lightly. “The same goes to you.”

She hung up the call and you gave yourself the luxury of sighing in relief.

You wouldn't even think about the moment somebody else comes for you again. You're not alone now, right? There's Matt, and now he is your biggest concern.

Killing someone is that one thing you can never come back from. You know that better than anybody; taking a life, whomever it belongs to, changes you completely. Matt needs you now that he crossed the line you know he swore never to.

Especially because Matt did that in your name.

Now, you were in his bed, taking in everything around you.

Silk bed sheets, the good ones. A neat pile of laundry, ready to be organized. His phone, there in the nightstand. A lamp, new. It wasn't there before. You turned it on; it was dark.

Your heart jumped in its place, and you wondered if that is what they say in the movies that teenagers feel when they fall for the first time… Is it that you are falling or have you already fallen? You don't know that anymore, and maybe will never know.

You stood up, approaching the pile of clothes. They were his work suits and each was already on the hanger, which was labeled in braille and had English on the opposite side. You checked if they were all correct and hung everything in the closet.

Walking around the room wasn't enough to ease you now. You thought, perhaps, that there were sections of the apartment you were left to explore. He made you breakfast and dinner, and you went out for lunch with Svetlana.

Outside, you saw the bag he had brought from work. Curiosity got the better of you, and you went to the dining table and opened it. Grey curtains he doesn't need for himself.

In the fridge, a six pack of Stella Artois beers, quite different from the cheap ones you always saw him drink at Josie's.

A new mug. Blue, shorter and wider than his white one, probably so he could tell the difference between that one and his.

Before you could keep looking around, you heard his steps coming down the stairs.

“You're early.” you noted.

He took off his helmet, revealing a new cut in his left cheekbone. “Yeah.”

“Is everything alright?” You walked to him.

Matt nodded, but you knew better than to believe him.

You helped him unzip his suit in complete silence.

“Are you?” you asked again, putting your hand on his chest.

He chuckled softly. “Don't worry about me, sweetheart.”

“It's too late for that,” you replied.

Matt sighed.

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Okay, we won't,” you said. “We'll sleep now. Or maybe talk about something else.”

Matt gave you a short kiss. “I'd like to sleep now. Let me take my pillows and-”

“Take them, where?” you asked him as if you didn't know what he meant and weren't plotting a way to get him to share the bed.

“What? Do you want to sleep in my bed with me?” He smirked.

“I do,” you confessed. “And I also would like to wake up with you in it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Sure you want me, darling.”

“Sure I do.” you confirmed with a smile, one wide, at that.

“You're smiling,” he mentioned, mimicking your smile. “God, what a feeling.”

“What feeling?” You laughed.

“When you smile it just… it's a whole other thing,” he began. His hand went to cup your face, as if touching you enhanced that feeling he was talking about. “Your heart beats faster, but it's still calm, and your body temperature rises ever so slightly. It feels comforting when close to you, like when the sun leaks through the windows in the morning.”

“I didn't know you were such a charmer.” you joked.

“I'm sorry for hiding that from you.”

You shook your head and kissed him. “God, keep them coming.”

“You can't possibly understand how much I need you to get well so I can take you out to dinner,” Matt pecked your lips, leading the way to his bed like you wanted. “I hope you kiss on the first date.”

“It usually takes me at least five, but I think I can make an exception for you.”

Matt hummed. “By the way, how are you feeling?”

“Like I was stabbed multiple times, yeah,” you mumbled, soon cuddling in his bed. “And it hurts way more that this is something that was purposely done to me. That he knew I had to be unconscious because otherwise he wouldn't have been able to get to me like that, and that… a person I trusted did this to me, not to mention what I learned today that he did to his sister.”

“What did he do?”

“He and his father sold Svetlana to the Red Room,” you answered. “And that is shit, Matt, because… the Red Room was Hell on Earth. It was the kind of thing that makes you turn the TV off when you watch the news, it makes you want to throw up when you hear about it, or cry at the thought of your mother, sister or daughter ending up there. You grow pessimistic about humankind when finding out what the widows have done, and lose hope in this world completely when you realize what they did to us to make us do such things. They purposely gave their daughter and sister away when she was a little kid, and for what? Some pieces of paper with buildings on ‘em.”

You sighed.

“All the atrocities I've seen in this world could make you forget about the people fighting them everyday, or the people in the market selling you vegetables, or the owners of the coffee shop you pass by everyday. Or people like you,” you added. “Now that there's only half of us, you realize that there's more good people than bad people, and that it's not that simple. You know it because there's half as evil and twice as sorrow, and because you see how grief can change the path of any person for better or for worse.”

“But you're out.”

“Some days, it feels like I never left,” you confessed. “Some days, I wake up in such pain and so tired that I feel like this world isn't worth saving, that I've had enough. Those days, I decide for a little while that I won't fight anymore, but then… My neighbor's daughter is with him that weekend and she watches some Grimm Brothers cartoons about fairy tales that remind me of the messed up ones we used to watch there. I go out and step on branches, and it sounds like those bones I've broken… arms, legs, ribs, and necks alike. Fireworks sound like gunshots, history documentaries remind me that us widows took part in many of those. The ballet academy on my way to Fogwell's reminds me of those times we learned it and I was so afraid to mess up that I would have an anxiety no seven year-old should feel. The smell of hospitals reminds me of a wing in which they would take us to experiment on us sometimes, or when we got a hysterectomy done as some twisted initiation ritual. Blood, knives, guns, they go without saying. Little girls the age I was or other fellow widows were when we were taken. Screams. Darkness. Even words like target or just names, you know? In the Red Room, we were controlled by them to the degree that, to this day, we don't know which actions were ours and which, theirs. Some days, I just think that unawareness is bliss, and then… Then, I remember that a Widow is all I've ever been, and that I have no idea who I am outside a mission. I've never had a reason to question myself all that much, I just existed, worked, and tried to shut the voices in my head. Now, I feel like maybe there's hope for me. That I can live instead of survive.”

Matt kissed your forehead. “I admire you. I don't think many people who went through what you did could have the courage to be good after everything, but you do. Maybe you do fight, and it's not ideal for you, but you care. If you didn't, you wouldn't go out to help and take care of this city, you would pick fights and do bad things. As you said, good and bad… narrowing everything down to it is not simple at all. I met someone years ago, and, at the beginning, I thought he was some lunatic that mixed an intention with the worst way of execution. I thought he was insane because he killed so many people in cold blood; people who were bad, but I've always thought that justice is real. I know that punishment and deciding who lives and who doesn't isn't up to us. I think that most times, but when you are surrounded by so much depravity and evil, you question everything. He, uh- he did all of that because of his family. We know that killing the people responsible won't bring them back, but, deep down, you just know that it will bring you some comfort at least, however short it might be. He did all of that out of love and grief, and while I would never do anything like that and I would never justify his actions, I understand where he came from. Our intentions can be good or bad, but what really defines us is what we do with them… And it depends on the way you see stuff: you feel that you must fight, and you do it by saving others. Or, maybe, he saved others from the damage those people did and would keep doing, but he did it by committing mass murder. Some will condemn us or justify us, but the truth is that… it's not that simple, is it?”

“And it never will be,” you agreed. “You think you wanted me safe and that they deserved punishment for what they did, but you killed them. I think that, yes, you killed them, but I know I'm safe and so is Svetlana. You might see yourself as a murderer, Matt, but from the point of view of someone that was a victim of so much, I see you as a hero. There is so much goodness in you, and you can't let this take that from you. No matter what… you are not what you did last night, you are what you've done all these years for this city and its people.”

“I came back because, for a moment, I was there again, the moment their hearts stopped beating. First, I couldn't stop, and I couldn't keep going as soon as I came back to reality,” Matt said, finally letting out the reason that brought him back earlier than usual. “And I'm afraid I crossed a line, and that it will haunt me forever.”

“It'll pass,” You kissed his forehead. “One morning, every trace of this will be gone for good. For both you and me, and if you let me, I'd like to be there that day.”

Matt turned to you and took your hand, placing it where his heart is. “I'd love to be there with you, too. However long it takes, sweetheart, and I am serious.”

His heartbeat was steady and his eyes so telling that you wouldn't think he can't see you at plain sight. “I can tell that.”

He kissed your lips once more before holding you even closer and closing his eyes, ready to sleep. “The only heartbeat I care about now is yours.”

Wow.

taglist: @wh1sp @ateliefloresdaprimavera

#matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil #daredevil x fem!reader #daredevil imagine #daredevil fanfic #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x you #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock x fem!reader

85 notes · View notes

ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year ago

Text

Counting the Minutes

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Dirty talk, masturbation, phone sex. Word count: ~1k

Summary: Separated for the Christmas break, her and Michael have to get creative.

Author's note: A little addition to The Golden Ratio, though can also be read as a standalone piece. Day twelve of the Smuffmas prompts - "promise and phone sex". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

She nestles beneath the duvet, clicking through the contacts on her Nokia until she reaches Michael’s name. A faint smile tugs at her lips as her finger hovers over the call button, she can’t wait to speak to him.

They have been inseparable since the night that Oliver ditched him. They brought out the best in each other. Michael lit a fire underneath her that made her want to study harder, to strive for perfection in all things. In turn, she softened him up and taught him not to see the world through such a harsh lens.

Their relationship had become serious enough that they had both chosen to spend their reading week together, instead of going home like the vast majority of people at their college had.

Now the term was over, and Christmas had beckoned them both home; Michael back to his mum, and her back to her dad. It’s odd not to see him every day, and though they’d stayed in touch on MSN Messenger, nothing compares to sitting with their legs entwined as they discuss their notes for their upcoming tutorials.

It’s only been a week and she misses the way he rests his chin against his hand when he’s deep in thought, how the intensity of his unblinking, blue eyed stare causes her skin to grow hot, and the smell of Imperial Leather soap and old books that she inhales when she rests her face in the crook of his neck.

Holding the phone to her ear, it rings once, twice, three times before he answers.

“Hello, you.”

His voice gives her butterflies. It’s the sound she’d attribute to how it feels to run your fingertips against plush velvet.

“Hi,” she says back with a coy smile. God, she wishes she could see him.

“How long can you talk for?” He asks.

“I put credit on my phone yesterday, ten pounds, so should be good for a while.”

“One hundred and sixty six point seven hours.”

She huffs a laugh. Of course his mind wanders to the maths of it.

“You think we could talk for that long?”

“Hmm,” he muses, “I’m sure we could find a way to pass the time.”

“Like we did during reading week?” She asks softly, her fingers drawing lazy circles against the cotton of her bedsheets.

“Can’t really do that over the phone.”

“Have you ever had phone sex before?”

She hears him suck in a harsh breath before he replies. “What do you think?”

It causes her to giggle. Of course he hasn’t.

“Would you like to try it?” She holds the phone tighter to her ear, a lazy grin upon her lips.

“What does it entail?”

“Well,” she begins, switching her mobile from one ear to the other, and snuggling further down into the bed. “We describe what we’d like to do to each other while we touch ourselves.”

“One thousand, two hundred and fifty.”

“What?”

“On average, I can make you orgasm in about eight minutes. If we run through all of your phone credit then that’s how many times I could make you come.”

“Michael!” She gasps, feeling her insides flutter at the thought. “I don’t think that would be physically possible. I’ll settle for just the one today.”

He huffs a soft laugh, the sound breathy through the receiver. “Yes, I suppose that’s a bit impractical. Alright then, you start.”

“I wish you here right now,” she purrs seductively. “I want to push my hand up your t-shirt and run my fingers against that little trail of hair that leads all the way down your stomach, before I wrap them around your cock.”

His breathing grows heavier and she can hear the faint rustle of clothing in the background. She bites her lip, her own hand snaking beneath the duvet and into the waistband of her knickers.

“I miss the way you feel,” he tells her, voice shaky, “how tightly you grip me when I first push inside of you. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that sensation. You’re so wet, so warm…”

She can hear the slick sound of his hand pumping over his cock, the sound sends arousal pooling between her legs and she circles her pearl in earnest, the added wetness aiding her ministrations. She hadn’t expected him to focus on the sensation of physical touch quite so much, but Michael is pragmatic after all, and his innovative approach excites her.

“Mmmm,” she moans quietly, “I want you to do that thing where you grab my hips to pull me back against you as you fuck me, it feels so good.”

A broken whimper escapes him, and there’s a brief moment of just his ragged breathing before he speaks again.

“The way your thighs tighten against my waist drives me mad. I swear I can still feel you there when I close my eyes, see the way your tits bounce– fuck!”

She whines, circling her bud faster, the coil in her gut tightening. “Wanna slide my hands down to your arse, push you in as deep as you’ll go, watch how your eyes screw shut as you come inside me.”

He grunts. “Wish I could come inside of you so badly. I need to feel you clenching around me, hear the pretty sounds you make as I fill you up.”

Her hips jerk involuntarily against her hand, and she knows she’s close. It’s been a week since he’s touched her and his filthy words have sent her unravelling much faster than she anticipated.

“I’m close,” she pants.

“M–me too,” he huffs back. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard the moment we get back to college.”

“Oh god–” Her response is cut off by her pleasured cry, as she falls apart, her walls spasming around emptiness as her thighs tremble.

A grunt and heavy breathing on the other end of the line lets her know that Michael has reached his end too. There’s nothing but the sound of their shared gasps for air, as they both recover.

“Do you promise?” She finally asks. “To fuck me hard when we get back to college?”

“Tell you what, let’s go back a day early and we can spend an entire day doing just that.”

She giggles excitedly, rolling onto her side. “I’ll be counting the minutes until then.”

Part two || Series masterlist

#michael gavey x you #ewan mitchell #michael gavey smut #michael gavey x y/n #michael gavey #michael gavey saltburn #michael gavey imagine #saltburn michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey fan fiction #michael gavey fanfiction #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey fan fic #saltburn #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fan fiction #saltburn fan fic #saltburn fanfic

720 notes · View notes

fandomtherapy44 · 10 months ago

Text

Congrats you're a dad! Dean x reader one shot!

Summary: Dean Winchester the man who came and went that seemed like in a blink of an eye. But he left some thing behind your Daughter.

Paring: Dean x reader

word count: 2.4k

Divider from

Firefly Graphics

Reblog Banner and 18+ Banner From

cafekitsune

Warnings: swearing, MILD SMUT, Feelings all around

AN/ So I got very inspired by seeing posts of how Dean deserved to be a dad! Here is my story of that and this would take place after season 15 so he is alive and happy! Hope you enjoy!

Six Years since I last saw Dean Winchester, the man that came and left in an blink of an eye. The charming yet somewhat earnest type that I always fell for helped that he was hot as hell. Those crystal green eyes, white prince smile, glitter freckle kissed skin that almost made you believe in miracles. I was the waitress at the restaurant where he and his partner went every night while they were in town trying to find a missing person and thankfully they did but with that came a goodbye. But he did leave me with something, not an std but our daughter.

I wanted to tell him so many times but how was I supposed to tell this barely a familiar hook up that he had a kid. When he left he told me that he liked me and maybe if he was staying around we could try something but he wasn't. I found out I was pregnant with Bella two weeks later. So was I really going to tell a guy I didn't even really know that he was a dad and potentially ruin his career and break my heart if he told me to screw off. The answer was no.

So here I was six years later with the best little girl in the world and trying my best. “Hey mom could you please pick Bella up? I have to pick up this shift.” I was balancing my phone between my shoulder and ear while my hands were full of plates of food while I was widing through the sticky tables. “Of course sweetie I'll see you at eight.” My mom has been my biggest supporter since the day I was pregnant.”Ok thank you so much love you bye oh and don’t let her eat so much ice cream again she threw up all over the couch last time.” “I'm her grandma, I'm supposed to spoil her.” “Bye Mom.” I said in a loving jokey way.

It was almost seven thirty when I was walking up to my table and had just gotten satten. I was carrying two glasses of water to the table when I heard a voice that I thought I would never hear again. “Oh Hey Y/n right? You're still working here, that's cool.” I look up and drop the water. It was Dean fucking Winchester. “Whoa you okay?” he swooped down to help pick up the pieces of now broken glasses. I can’t even look at him. “Hey Y/n” He grabbed my hand I didn’t realize but it was bleeding. “Are you okay?” I barely get a word out. “Hey can I get a towel or bandaid please!?”

He called out and a co-worker ran over. “Is she okay?” “Dean, I'm fine.” My friend’s eyes widened knowing that name. “Uh, why don't you take a break? I'll bring more waters” I begged with my body for her to stay but she ignored me knowing that was not her place. We sat down in the booth. I kept staring at my bloody hand hoping it was a terrible nightmare but then he spoke again.

“I know it's been a while since I've been here but I swear that I had good reason to. I had to take care of something that took longer than expected. I wanted to come back. I've missed this place, you.” My heart flutters a little. “It’s okay not like you had something to come back to.” I know that’s a little harsh but I was trying to drive him away as quickly as possible. “Well you're here and I don’t know about you but I had an amazing time when I was last here.”

My head flashed back to that night the last night he was here we were together for hours in the sheets. It wasn't just sex but we talked about our hopes and dreams. Maybe that's why I wanted to talk to him a little longer. “I guess you're right it wasn’t half bad.” I smirked. “Half Bad? Excuse me but I believe you were the one begging for more-” Before he can go on I kick him. “Fine, you were great, happy.”

“Very happy, hey did you ever go to college for acting.” what? He remembered my dream not even boyfriends who had been with me for a long time remembered that. “I can't believe you still know that.” “How could I forget, your face lit up talking about it every time.” We both smiled thinking about those times. But the air froze when we heard another voice. “Mommy! I can’t wait to show you my drawing!” Bella ran over and jumped in my lap. I looked at the clock and it was eight fifteen, shit.

“Oh, baby I'm sure it's so beautiful I'll look at home okay.” “But Mommy!” I started to try to get up but being a six year old she was dragging her feet. “But Momma!” “Bella! Let's go!” I hated it when my yelling voice came out. I finally looked at Dean and he looked like he had been slapped in the face. “Hey mister, would you like to see?” She asked Dean kindly like I had taught her. “Bella he's busy-” “I would love to.” She pulled out a picture and it was a drawing of a family.

“You see that's me and mommy and that's grandma.” He nods looking out the picture. “It's really good, Hey do you have a daddy Bella?” He asked the question I had been fearing. “No, I don’t.” She answered so quickly and without thought it broke my heart. “And how old are you Bella?” “I’m this many” She holds up six fingers. Dean just sits there thinking. “Bella, could you go back to your grandma?” She seems sad. “You can get ice cream!” I tried. Of course, she jumps up and runs to the counter. I sit back down at the booth sighing. “Dean I-” he holds up his hand with tears in his eyes. “I just have one question. Is she my daughter?” “Yes.”

It had been at least twenty minutes. I broke the ice. “Dean, I don't even know where to start.” “How about you start why you kept my fucking child away from me?” He was mad of course who wouldn't be. “Dean you have to understand why I did it, I didn't tell you because I knew what kind of job you had and that you couldn't just drop everything. I mean you told me you couldn't stay.” “You don't think my kid would change that!?” I had tears building up.

“I didn't know you Dean, I didn't want a guy to tell me to screw off that I was just starting to really like and that I knew you just couldn't stay.” He’s silent again. “I want to know her.” I'm a little shocked. “Dean I know it was fucked up of me to keep this from you but you can't just go away because of a job or something that needs you for weeks I won't allow Bella to be hurt like that.” He did not hesitant “I won’t.”

And from there on out it was kind of nice. We had set up a system where Bella could spend time with Dean so we didn't freak her out when we told her. I could really see both of them loving each other. I met his brother and he was very surprised to hear he had a niece. Bella loved spending time with both of them. It had been a couple of months. The more time we all spent together the more my heart became comfortable with Dean around, that’s what terrified me.

We were eating Chinese food with Bella and for the first time I felt like we had a family but then his damn phone rang. He checked the name and I saw his face fall a little from his previous smile but he was keeping it together for us. “Uh hey, what’s up?” I couldn't hear everything but I did hear the level of the voice and it was not calm.

“Yeah, I'll be there.” He responded back. He hangs up and looks at me. “Dean no no you promised-” “I know I did and trust me I don’t want to go but I have to. This friend needs me.” We need you, I need you but of course, I didn't say that out loud. He gets up to get his things and bends down to Bella’s level. “Hey Bells, I'll be back in a little.” She clearly doesn't want him to go. “But we were going to play barbies after dinner.” She whined in true six-year-old fashion.

“I know and promise as soon as I get back we will and I'll bring back a new Barbie friend how about that.” She leaps in his arms. “Yay! Thank you, Dean, I love you.” Dean and I both got stiff at that it was the first I love you between them. He squeezes her harder at that. “I love you too Bella.” He lets go and goes to the front door and I follow.

“How long are you going to be gone?” “I honestly don't know Y/n I wished I did.” At that, I got angry he fucking promised. “Dean, what kind of Job do you have that you don’t know when you'll be home!?” He put his hands on the sides of my face. “I will tell you everything when I get home.” He saw my uneasy face. He leans down I think for a kiss but not where I was expecting. It was my forehead, a slow caring one. “You have no idea what you guys mean to me. I will come back and explain everything.” With that, he leaves.

I put Bella to bed hours ago and it was five in the morning but I couldn't go to bed not knowing he was safe. Finally, the door creaks open but very quietly. It was Dean but he looked like he walked through Hell. “Hey, what are you still doing up?” I sip my coffee not really having the anger anymore but being replaced with worry. That’s when I knew I was in deep shit I was falling in love with Dean Winchester. “I couldn't sleep not knowing you were safe.” There is just silence between us. I look up and can't hold back anymore and run into his safe arms. We are like this for like two minutes. “I think it’s time I tell you what I really did, you might want to sit down for this.”

“So you're saying everything I've ever told Bella was fake is real.” “Yes” “And God, Angels, the Devil, Demons, are real.” “Yup and actually an Angel is one of my best friends.” I gulp the rest of my coffee down, maybe thinking this was a dream and I would wake but no this was real. “Okay, I somehow believe you.” “Really some people call Sam and me crazy when we have to tell them.” “Well, I know both you and Sam and you're not liars.” “Thank you.” “No problem.” I break the ice once more. “So that’s why you had to leave to help someone.”

“Yeah, an old friend was going to a vamp nest.” He looked down at my confused face. “Sorry, I'll explain all the monster lore another time.” “A vamp nest sounds dangerous Dean.” “it is.” I let out what I was thinking the whole night. “Dean I don't want to tell you what to do but you can't just go out anymore like that not when you have a kid now and not when I- '' I was stopped by his lips on mine and it was like nothing changed. We let go.

“I'm sorry if I was reading that wrong Y/n but I care about you too and Bella and thank Chuck every day that he gave me you too.” “Chuck?” He chuckles. “More lore but this is way more important.” He gripped my hips and pulled me forward like he did six years ago. “Wait Dean before we go further even though I would love to relive how we made Bella I need to know this is a hundred percent real and this isn't another in-the-moment type thing.” He kisses me deeply again. “I'm a thousand percent for you and our family.” Our family I never thought I would hear those words and that did me in.

SMUT .................................................................................................................

I pull him in and kiss him again but this time put some real feeling in it. He slips his tongue in like it was natural. “Mhh Dean.” “Would you like to move this to the bed?” I jump up and he catches me. “Yes sir.” He walks me to my bedroom and kicks the door open and lays me down. He gets on top and starts to kiss down my neck. “Lets see, I think this is where your special spot is right?” He sucks down on my pressure point and I mewl with pleasure.

“Ding ding ding we have a winner.” He said slyly. “Dean, please no teasing, it's been six years.” “Aww darling did I get you all worked up.” “Dean fucking Win-” He goes down to my thighs and starts to pull off my shorts and underwear. “You already soaked baby is this all for me?” He starts to rub his finger up and down my slit. I barely answer. “Uh-huh.” “That’s it baby just feel me.” he puts his finger in my pussy. “AHH DEAN!” I grip his wrist.

“Shh, you don't want to wake Bells.” “Oh, you motherfucker!” He goes faster and faster. “Are you almost there?” “Yes!” He speeds all the way up. “Okay let go.” And I came all over his fingers. “Ahh, I missed that.” “You son of a-” I laughed and dragged him into another kiss. It was starting to get heavy again and he was unbuckling quickly. “Are you sure about this?” he asked earnestly. “A thousand percent.” He smiled his goofy smile and went on. But something stopped the both of us. “Mommy moma!” I look down at his tent. “I'll go but we'll continue this later.'' I leave him with a lingering kiss and him thinking he is the luckiest guy in the world.

There's a second part now: Trick or Treat with smut!

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #dean winchester supernatural #dean x reader #smut #dean winchester smut #Dean Winchester dad

262 notes · View notes

coff33andb00ks · 5 months ago

Text

Recipe for the Perfect Christmas 1/12

One part small town girl coming home from the big city. One part handsome stranger. Five parts lifelong friends (don't forget to include their partners). One part stubborn father. A dash of Christmas spirit. Part: One of Twelve Pairing: Oscar Piastri x ofc (with appearances from Mark Webber. Lando Norris, Carlos Sainz, Esteban Ocon, Pato O'Ward, and George Russell) wc: 3,965 warnings: none nav: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve a/n: did someone order a hallmark christmas fic? (it was me, i ordered it). special thank you to @leodette for helping me out with this!! also yes named ofc not sorry, and shout out to Zuz, @driverlando, @snoopyracing, @spiderbeam, @landinhoe, @maxlarens for letting me use them as side characters. Soundtrack: spotify ⋆❆⋆ apple music

Part One

Natalie Webber made the drive a couple of times a year, but this time there was a finality about it. Possibly because her car was packed with everything she cared to bring with her. Or it could have been that her low fuel light came on as soon as she passed the sole gas station. Groaning, she kept going.

She wasn’t ready to be seen. Although she had a feeling that everyone already knew she was coming back.

It never failed to amaze her how the town never changed. The diner next to the gas station. The post office, the town hall. The town green was situated across from the town hall, and when she drove by, she saw people setting up for the annual bonfire. She recognized a few of the people and kept going. Past the café and the hardware store and the bookstore. Then the general store on the corner, across from the bakery.

She could practically taste the croissants as she turned.

One block and she was home. Home. Not the penthouse apartment overlooking the city. Home, with its graveled driveway and slate stepping stones to the front stoop.

She stared at the two-story brick house for a moment, finally cutting the engine and letting go of the steering wheel. Her father’s truck was where he always parked it and she sighed, knowing he had walked down to the town green instead of driving. Glancing at the front door she could see a note tacked in the middle of the autumn wreath and rolled her eyes while she climbed out of the car and walked to the door.

Gone to the green to help, then to the bakery to do prep for morning. Be back by dark. Love you.

The front door was unlocked, because of course it was. She wondered if it would do any good to fuss at her father about it but knew it would be like every other time. He’d been on this earth for however many years without her managing every little detail, and he’d do just fine now.

It took fewer trips to unload her car than she had thought it would, and was still light out when she sat on her old bed in her old room. It smelled of lemon furniture polish, fabric softener, and vanilla. Her gaze landed on the dresser and her vision blurred with tears.

A small plate, piled with sugar cookies. Her favorite. Leaning, she grabbed one, blinking the tears away as another note fluttered to the floor.

Welcome home, sweetie

"Oh dad," Natalie sighed, picking up the note and tucking it into the frame of the mirror.

When she'd called him in tears asking if she could come home he'd told her that her room would always be there for her. And in the ensuing weeks she'd been able to pick up on the excitement in his voice. Having her home for a few days wasn't the same. Running the bakery didn't give him many opportunities to visit her, not to mention he hated anything larger than the next town over, which only had three traffic lights.

She just wished she'd come home a success. Not the abject failure she was.

Picking up another cookie, she busied herself with unpacking, trying her best to stuff the accessories she'd amassed into the bedroom she had lived in for eighteen years.

The clock on the mantel in the living room chimed as she brought the empty plate downstairs. Just as she stepped off the bottom stair the front door opened and—

"Natalie."

She could hear his joy and noticed several things as she moved to greet him. His limp had worsened since she'd last seen him on Father's Day. His hair was grayer. There were shadows under his eyes. She had never seen him look so happy to see her. His hug was tighter than she remembered and she held onto him, allowing herself to be his little girl for a moment.

"Don't cry, sweetie," Mark soothed when a sob escaped her. "Come on, into the kitchen."

The kitchen was as it always had been. Bright an spacious with the lingering aroma of coffee and spices. She wiped her tears away and, knowing he wouldn't sit down and let her wait on him, made him at least help fix the pot of coffee and put together turkey sandwiches for an early dinner before the bonfire.

Spotting a small wooden box on the island counter she pulled it close and lifted the lid. "What's this old thing doing out? You don't need help remembering your old recipes do you?"

"Of course not." He watched her flick through the contents. Index cards, scraps of paper, most of them in his handwriting.

Natalie smiled as she pulled out the stained, crumpled brown paper bag that had her grandfather's brownie recipe jotted down. "I'll never forget you giving me this when I said I wanted to make brownies," she murmured. "I couldn't read half the measurements, and Papa didn't even have the oven temperature or bake time on here."

"You figured it out," Mark reminded her with a chuckle. Taking it from her, he carefully tucked it back into the box and replaced the lid. "I'm gonna finally type them up."

"Finally doing a cookbook?" she guessed. She'd been telling him for years that he should. Had even suggested he just do a few copies at a time to give to friends.

"No…" Shaking his head, he smoothed his fingers over the top of the box. He looked about to say something, then cleared his throat. "I got you some of that almond milk for your coffee."

"Thanks." When she'd come to stay for Christmas two years before he'd acted as though she'd insulted him and his entire lineage.

Mark Webber drank his coffee black. No sugar, no cream or milk, no flavorings. At home, he drank it out of his favorite mug: off-white with a red handle that his late wife had given to him their first Christmas together. At the bakery, he had it out of his second-favorite mug: the garish blue one with #1 Dad in yellow letters that Natalie had given him for Father's Day when she'd been six.

Mark Webber also drank his coffee strong. She'd forgotten how strong he made his coffee and, when he moved to sit at the table, she added more sweetener and almond milk to her mug before joining him.

He waited until they'd finished their sandwiches and had each eaten half a cookie before speaking. "Do you know what you're gonna do yet?"

"No." The cookies were perfect. Golden brown on the bottom, just soft to the touch. They melted in her mouth and she reached for another. "I guess I'll start looking Monday."

"There's no rush."

"Dad… I'm too old to be living at home supported by you."

"Nonsense. You're never too old to need your dad's support."

The cookie turned bitter in her mouth. "I'm supposed to be looking after you by now."

"Just because I'm getting a little slower—"

"Have you scheduled your knee replacement?"

"Ah," he grunted, scowling as he lifted his mug. "It can wait."

Natalie blinked. "Are you insane? You can't—"

"I can. I'll have it after the Christmas rush."

"What? Christmas is almost a month away!"

"And then I'll schedule my replacement and take time off like you've been telling me to do for years."

She drew in a breath. Don't argue. Don't argue. Don't argue. "Have you hired extra help at the bakery?"

He didn't answer.

Natlie somehow kept her voice gentle. "You're only making it worse."

"I wear a brace at work. I take pain medicine when I need it. I even use that fucking cane. You make it sound like I'm tap dancing twelve hours a day." He stood and she noticed he moved with deliberate steps to refill his coffee.

"Can you at least try to take it easy?" She frowned. "The business is still good isn't it?"

"Of course it is." He flashed her a smile. "In fact, I—"

"Since I'm unemployed, I'll help out. I can't bake as well as you but I can do the basics."

His brow furrowed and he slowly took a sip of coffee. "You mean that?"

"It's the least I can do."

His brow relaxed. "I'm glad you're home, Natalie."

She thought of the penthouse that she had told herself over and over she loved. The job she had thought had been her dream come true. The carefully laid plans for her life. One tiny hiccup had caused it all to crumble to dust.

Swallowing hard, she managed a smile. "Me, too."

"It's as cold as a witch's ti—"

"Natalie Rose." Her father's tone held the same warning it had when she'd been a rambunctious little kid.

"Well it is," she muttered, zipping her jacket up to her chin.

"Once the fires get going you'll forget the cold."

Shoving her hands into her pockets, she stood beside him on the corner. "How's your knee?"

"It still bends. It's fine, sweetie."

She didn't fully believe him. It had to hurt, especially in the cold. He'd insisted on walking to the bonfire, and if he noticed she intentionally slowed her steps so he wouldn't overdo it, he didn't say.

"Natalie!"

"I thought that was you driving through town this afternoon!"

The familiar voices had her forgetting the chill in the air. Next to her, her father cleared his throat.

"I see the pastor," he said as Sasha and Lilli approached. Then, showing no signs of having a bad knee, he hurried away.

Natalie hugged her two longtime friends, enthusing over how good it was to see them again, even though they'd made a trip to visit her just a few weeks before.

"Maddie's here," Lilli said, gesturing to one of the benches. "You know her doctor put her on bed rest but she still came?"

"Her mom is the mayor she kind of has to," Sasha laughed. Arms linked the three made their way to the bench, and Natalie sat next to Maddie on the bench as Sasha rushed off to find Susie and Amira. The group tried to quickly catch up but it was impossible, because seemingly every town resident had to walk by to welcome Natalie home.

Familiar faces she'd known all her life. Some genuinely happy to see her, some surprised, and a few looked as though they were happy that she'd failed at her city life. Smiling with relief when Susie suggested cider, she pulled her jacket hood over her head and walked with her friend across the square, past the towering structure that was roped off to keep children from getting too close. Dotted around the perimeter of the square were smaller fires for the marshmallow roasting.

"Did your dad abandon you?" Susie asked, reaching out to grab the arm of her son Michael when he began to skip away.

"Nah, he went to talk to the pastor." Natalie scooped Michael up and was rewarded with a grin as the boy. "Where are Hannah and Estie?"

"They're coming. The mare is close to foaling, and you know how he is when that happens." Susie rolled her eyes. "Hannah insisted on staying with him."

"At least this time you're not about to have a baby," Natalie teased. It was one of Susie's favorite stories, how her husband Esteban had been so caught up in the birth of a foal that he had missed the birth of his daughter. It was good-natured teasing, especially now that Esteban had made up for it by making sure to attend every moment of his son's birth the next year.

"We have to have a girls' night," Susie insisted while they stood in line for cider. "Come by the café for lunch tomorrow? Or do you have plans?"

"I've been home for four hours, when would I have made plans?"

"So you haven't met the new neighbor?"

"What new—"

"Daddy!" Michael squealed.

"There's my darling boy." Esteban Ocon was grinning as he strolled up, passing Hannah off to her mother and immediately slipping Michael from Natalie's arms. A second later his arm was around his wife, tucking her close to his side so he could kiss the top of her head. Looking at Natalie, his grin widened. "Hey, stranger."

"You saw me two months ago," Natalie snorted, letting Hannah jump into her arms for a hug.

"Doesn't count, it was for five minutes and on pavement, not grass." Esteban shuddered dramatically.

"How's Bonny?" Susie asked him.

"Restless. The vet said it'll probably be late tonight, but we knew that already. He's coming by again after the bonfire. I'm not staying long, I don't want her to be alone. Did Mark do cookies for this year?" Esteban glanced at his watch then at the next stall.

"He said Mrs. Parker picked them up this morning," Natalie told him.

"Cookie?" Michael asked hopefully.

"Of course, let's go find some cookies. Mommy can get us cider, hm? And we can roast one marshmallow before I have to get back to the farm," Esteban assured gently, ushering both Hannah and Michael towards the cookie stall.

"I'll find you," Susie called after him.

Natalie watched him herd his kids off then turned her attention back to Susie. Her friend was admiring Esteban's retreat, smirking. Natalie snorted and poked her in the arm. "What new neighbor?"

"Oh! Right, sorry. I was distracted…" Susie gave a little sigh before turning to face Natalie. "What?"

"Stop planning the conception of your third child and tell me about the new neighbor."

"I'm not planning a conception, I'm planning—"

"Susie!"

"Sorry. Jeez. Anyway, your new neighbor? Oscar Piastri. He's fixing up the old Alonso place on Halifax Street. You remember, the yellow Victorian with the two turrets?"

Natalie wanted to question how someone three blocks away could be considered a neighbor but knew better. If a family moved into one of the old farms out on Route 15, they were a neighbor. It was just how it was. "He bought that big old house?"

"No, no, he's fixing it up for his friend. Max something. Very nice. Married with two kids about Hannah and Michael's age—"

"The new neighbor?"

"Max. Oscar's single." Susie stepped up to the stall and requested four ciders, dropping a few dollars into the jar. "Max and his family are moving to town after the holidays I think. Estie has Max and Oscar over quite a bit. Max is looking to buy a local business."

Natalie shoved some cash into the jar and scooped up five cups of cider as well, balancing them between her hands. "What business?"

"I don't know, nobody's selling that I know of. Sasha hasn't heard a word either." As the wife to the town's sole real estate agent, Sasha would know. "I asked Estie but he said he doesn't know. I think he misheard. Or he's just being mean because he knows I need to know all the details." Susie huffed with annoyance. "He's such an ass."

Natalie slowly counted to three.

"But he's got such a great ass, I forgive him."

Natalie laughed, and noticed people moving closer to the center of the green. "Go find your ass."

"Lunch?"

"Lunch," she promised, carrying the ciders back to the other girls. Lando was on the bench with Maddie, gently massaging her baby bump, and pouted playfully when Natalie didn't hand him a cider. George had Lilli wrapped in his arms, and Carlos was fussing over Sasha for not wearing her hat. Natalie vaguely recognized the man standing with Amira and absentmindedly rubbed her empty ring finger as she stood near the couples. The mayor spoke and Natalie listened to her words about spreading light and good cheer, then politely joined in the applause as the mayor held a torch to the base of the structure. A ripple of excitement swept through the crowd and Natalie's eyes swept up, watching the flames spread up the structure. Then, one by one, the smaller fires were lit.

Music began to play and the atmosphere was light. Giggling children, lighthearted chatter. Natalie looked around for her father, saw children lining up for marshmallows and skewers, adults settling on blankets by the smaller fires. She glimpsed Susie with Esteban, Hannah, and Michael. The scent of burning sugar and wood filled the air and she sipped the cider, apologizing when she bumped into a woman holding a toddler. She sidestepped, wincing when she stepped into a man.

"Sorry," the man said, grinning as one hand shot out to steady her. The other hand clutched an energy drink.

She didn't recognize him and wondered if he was the new neighbor. The woman turned, chastising him for being clumsy, and Natalie offered a quick smile. "No, no, it was my fault. Wasn't looking where I was going."

"Neither does he," the woman said with a playful grin. "He always says it's a great way to meet new people. Since we're moving into town soon, I suppose he has a point. Hi, I'm Eve. This is my husband, Max."

"Lucas," the toddler announced, patting his chest.

"I was getting to you," Eve said.

Natalie smiled at the boy, who was starting to wriggle in his mother's arms and tugging at the hat on his head. "I'm Natalie. You're moving into… Oh! Into the old Alonso place?"

"Guilty as charged," Max said with a grin, tugging the cap down on his son's head. "As soon as Oscar finishes getting it ready. We still live up in Fairview while Eve finishes her contract, but I'm back and forth helping Oscar and—"

"He means slowing down Oscar's work," Eve put in. "The house was supposed to be finished by Thanksgiving—"

"It'll be finished by the end of the year," Max insisted gently, taking a sip of his energy drink. "Stop worrying."

"Cookie?" Lucas asked, snatching the hat from his head.

""We're going to get cookies and cider right now, darling." Eve grabbed the hat and handed it to Max. "Great meeting you, Natalie!"

"You too," Natalie replied, watching her head towards the stalls.

"Do you live in town?" Max asked, turning to face her fully. He tipped his head, grinning again. "You're Mark's daughter."

"You know my dad?" she asked, stepping to one side when someone bumped into her and blinking in surprise when Max suddenly reached out to catch a girl by the arm.

"Watch where you're going, please," he said in a firm but gentle tone of a loving parent.

"Sorry!" The girl tipped her head back to stare up at Natalie. "Sorry, ma'am."

"No harm done," Natalie assured her.

"My daughter Grace," Max introduced. "This is—"

"Grace!"

Natalie stepped aside again when a man jogged up. Glancing at him, she was surprised to see him in only a thin jacket despite the chill. Brown hair fell over his eyes as he skidded to a stop, bending to give Grace a playful glare.

"Brat," he said. "Why did you run away from me?"

"I saw Daddy," Grace told him, hugging Max's leg.

The man snorted derisively. "He's not that great." Swinging her into his arms, he spun her in a quick circle. "You're still a brat."

"Just like you," Grace said, sticking out her tongue.

"Don't tell Lucas, but you're my favorite."

"My friend Oscar," Max said to Natalie. "Osc, this is Natalie."

Oscar gave her a quick glance, nodding. "Hi."

"Hi," she greeted.

"Can we get a marshmallow now? Please?" Grace asked. "Before they're all gone."

Natalie finished her now-cold cider. "You don't have to worry about that. Mrs. Parker always gets more than enough."

"Is she the old lady with the funny laugh?"

"Grace," Max groaned, clapping a hand over his face. "Don't be rude."

"You said it's not rude if it's true."

"Don't say everything I say," Max muttered.

Grace heaved a sigh and turned to Natalie. "I'm sorry if I was rude."

"She does have a funny laugh," Natalie told her in a stage whisper. "I got in trouble once for saying she sounded like a donkey."

The girl's eyes widened comically. "She does! I told you, Daddy!"

"Oh god. Let's get a marshmallow," Max sighed, holding out his arms. "And remember your manners, okay?"

Oscar chuckled as father and daughter headed off. "His curse is having kids just like him."

Natalie nodded. There was a brief silence as they stood there, and she cleared her throat. "Have you had to do a lot of work on the house?"

Oscar nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Quite a bit, yeah. Still a ways to go before it's done. I don't have to sleep in the camper anymore, though."

Another brief silence. "My friend Susie mentioned—"

"Esteban's wife?" Oscar flashed a quick smile. "Nice woman."

"Yeah, she's great." Why did this feel so awkward and stilted? She never had trouble talking to strangers. Her old work friends had teased that she could strike up a conversation with anyone.

The song playing over the loudspeakers changed and she brightened, spirits lifting as one of her favorite Christmas songs began to play, drowned out briefly by Oscar's groan.

She glanced at him curiously. "Not a fan of Perry Como?

He snorted. "He's alright. Not really a fan of Christmas music."

Her jaw slackened. "Really? How come? I mean, that's none of my business, sorry. I'm sure you have a valid reason. Do you not celebrate?"

"Oh I celebrate it. I just hate Christmas music."

"That's impossible. No one hates Christmas music," she insisted.

"Maybe hate is too strong a word. I… Dislike it. It gets stuck in my head and it's played nonstop as soon as Halloween is over." He shuddered. "Disgusting."

"I haven't met one person who's said they hate Christmas music…"

"C'mon, be honest." Oscar moved closer. "Isn't there a Christmas song you can't stand? One that comes on and you want to kick a reindeer?"

Natalie let out a shocked laugh. "No! Christmas music is perfect."

"Nothing's perfect," he scoffed.

Somehow they'd fallen into step next to each other, falling in line to get marshmallows and skewers. Natalie smiled at Mrs. Parker when she was handed a skewer then trailed along beside Oscar towards a fire. "Christmas music is perfect," she said again as they settled on a bench. "It's superior. Even when I'm not in a Christmassy mood it lifts my spirits."

"Even the one about a hippopotamus?"

"That one makes me giggle." She held her marshmallow close to the flames.

"Two front teeth?" he asked skeptically.

She laughed, shaking her head. "Sorry, I love it. It's all wonderful. Even the religious ones are great. Magic and hope and the promise of good things."

He shook his head. "I guess you have a point."

"Plus most of them have jingle bells. What's not to love?"

Oscar hummed. "You're on fire."

Natalie frowned, watching the firelight dance on his face. "Is that a Christmas song? I don't think I've ever heard that—"

"No." He reached to cover her hand with his, pulling her marshmallow from the fire. "Your marshmallow."

For the first time she noticed his eyes were brown. Finally dragging her gaze from him, she saw her charred marshmallow and groaned, shaking the smoking brick off the skewer, heard the faint sizzle as it landed in the flames.

"You can have mine," he offered.

"It's fine. I don't even like them that much," she said with a shrug.

He gave her hand a squeeze before letting go, eyes meeting hers. And suddenly she couldn't feel the disappointment over losing her marshmallow.

#f1 #oscar piastri #f1 imagine #oscar piastri imagine #my writings > op > xmas

80 notes · View notes