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answer2jeff · 11 months ago

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' treat me tonight '

a/n: this is (debatably) some of the best smut i've ever written but i'm still new to the field ! give ya girl some suggestions if desired.

song : i know we could be so happy baby.

warnings : fluffy smut, fem!reader, oral (fem receiving), piv sex (unprotected), both reader and carmen have a bit of a praise kink, brief hairpulling, the "L-word," established relationship, gets a little rough towards the end, back scratching, porn with no real plot. not proofread

word count: 2.6k+

MDNI : i am not responsible for your media consumption.

NSFW under the cut — last warning!

"Try it," Carmen cupped your jaw as he lifted the wooden spoonful of creamy, tomato soup to your mouth, thumbing your bottom lip gently so you could carefully swallow every last bit. He enjoyed feeding you, if he was being totally honest. Even if this had been upon your request. Making his girl happy with what he did best was nothing short of a blessing to him.

"Mmm," you hummed in amusement, swallowing before smiling contently and nodding your head. "'S great, Carmy. Fuckin' delicious."

Long days at work dealing with insensitive clientele and immature coworkers seemed to be so easily remedied by Carmen's cooking. You weren't sure if it was because it was him catering to you and loving you the one way he always knew how, or if the food was just that fucking amazing. Maybe a little bit if both.

"Yeah? Alright," he chuckled a bit, grabbing the ladle beside the pot and scooping the simple, yet beautifully crafted tomato soup into a ceramic bowl. He seemed to know exactly how you liked it, despite him asking you if you enjoyed it every. single. time.

You accepted the bowl with a sickly sweet smile on your face, giving Carmen a kiss on his clean shaven cheek to thank him for his gesture before hoisting yourself up onto the kitchen counter. Carmen just stood with his arms crossed against his chest as he leaned against the dining table, candidly watching you enjoy the warm bowl of soup

"So," you slurped some of the soup as you paused, "I'm thinkin' of giving Syd that top we found the other day."

Thrifting had become of recent liking to you anD Carmen. Just shopping and mooching around Chicago in search of vintage pieces. Mostly to actually wear, but partly to collect or regift to fellow friends. Last time you two had a day off, you found a beautiful vintage button down. A white base with downward blue stripes with a finely stitched breast pocket containing a 'V' pattern. The cuffs were cinched perfectly. It was a little baggy, too, which you knew Sydney would love.

"Ooh, yeah. I, uh, I really liked that. I think she'd really love it," Carmen nodded, "You gonna get 'er somethin' else with it? Like, to pair with it? Or just the shirt?"

"I was gonna ask you to help me with that, actually," you pointed a finger to Carmen, turning away for just a moment to gently place the empty bowl and spoon into the kitchen sink.

Carmen always thought you had a good eye for other people's tastes. Not just in fashion. The world seemed unpredictable to Carmy. But you made it look so easy, so loving to just know what people wanted. He always wished he had that kind of understanding for people. But for now, he'd admire such a trait you had.

"Hm?"

"I remember she mentioned something about having all these cool tops n' jackets and such, but, like—hardly any nice pants other than those fuckin' jeans she loves."

"Mhm," he stepped closer to you and planted his hands on your shoulders. But you soon reached for them and planted them on your hips, earning a little upward curl of his lip.

"I know you loved those nice jeans like they were your babies 'till you had to sell them," you frowned, entangling your fingers in his messy, blonde curls while your other hand rested on the back of his neck.

"Fuck, I know. Really wish I didn't have to," he tried to let out a breathy laugh to compensate for the genuine disappointment.

Fuck, did he love those pants. Pants were the one piece of fashion Carmen didn't have to second guess himself on. From jeans to slacks, he knew how to pair every possible fabric. And he never knew how to flatter the upper half of his body, so he always wore those dammed white t-shirts.

Not that you were complaining.

Especially right now, the t-shirt highlighting his broad shoulders and exposing his thick arms plastered with sentimental tattoos you always loved. You began to run your hands up and down the exposed skin. He glanced down at your patterned touch, flattered.

"Yeah, yeah. Well, anyway, I need you to help me look for a nice pair of jeans for Sydney. Can y'do that for me, hun?"

Carmen nodded rapidly, his eyes drifting from your lips and back into your eyes. His thumbs rubbed intricate little circles of adoration into your thighs.

"Yeah, baby," he smiled. "This weekend, maybe? I can take a couple hours," tilting his head, he held your chin to pull your face just inches away from his own. Something about your tendencies to make the ones you loved happy with little surprises just warmed him.

"Mhm. That works," you sighed, planting a soft kiss on his lips before wrapping your arms around his neck.

Carmens immediate suggestion just struck something in you. Months ago, he would've thrown excuse after excuse (although valid) as to when he couldn't be available, but never when he could. You felt proud of him.

"You're so good to me, Carmen."

"Yeah?"

He was learning. He was loving.

"Mhm," you barred your bottom lip behind your teeth, giving Carmen's arms a squeeze. He exhaled sharply and wondered where this could've been going.

You drove him a little crazier than he ever liked to admit. A delicate hand reached away from your hip and up to your face. He thumbed your bottom lip, the reflection of the kitchen light shining against your mouth that was glossy with a mix of both of your salivas. Carmen gazed at you in awe, a little embarrassed when he realized how long he'd been staring.

"I—" he shrugged, struggling to find the words, "I'd do it all for you, baby."

Whispering back as he began to cave in, he leaned into your neck and placing an opened mouth kiss on the skin. The smell of your perfume and the natural scent of your body was so familiar to him. It distracted him enough to let his hands roam up and down your torso before repeating that same motion on your thighs.

"Want you t.." you swallowed, your eyes shutting harshly when when he sucked a bruising hickey onto your skin.

"Want me to what, sweet girl?" Carmen mumbled, the butterflies in your stomach raging when his teeth grazed against the spot. You gently anchored your hand into his hair and pulled him away from your neck so you could see him again.

"Want you to treat me tonight," you whispered as your hands travled up to his shoulders.

He wished you could be more specific. But with your pretty eyes, your kiss-swollen lips, your thighs spread against the cold marble counter as they spilled out of your cotton shorts, how could he tease you any longer?

"That I can do."

—

Carmens body seemed to loosen up and relax as his rough hand slid down lower on your back to grab at the waistband of your shorts. You practically melted to his touch. He kissed you again, smiling against your lips as you giggled into the kiss once he slid your shorts down to your ankles. You nodded when he pulled away, ensuring him that he was on the right track.

"Need you t'spread, baby," his hand pried between your soft thighs.

"O—okay," You bit the inside of your cheek as you slowly spread your legs apart. The wet spot of arousal in the middle of your panties was completely in view now. Feeling Carmen's eyes drifting downward, you accidentally drew your knees closer together again.

"Hey," Carmen whispered while he looked into your eyes for an answer, despite your gaze being glued to the floor.

"You okay? We don't have to do thi—"

"No, no," you shook your head, "I want to. Just..not used to it. That's all."

It was true. You'd only tried oral about twice. And it went great, you couldn't deny. But you still struggled to literally open yourself up to him. You just needed a little encouragement.

"You don't have to hide, baby. You look—you are beautiful," he kissed your forehead, "so, so beautiful. Okay?"

Finally feeling some reassurance, you tried again. You spread your legs once again and let Carmen peel your soaked panties down your legs to where your shorts had been. He gave you one last look to see if you were ready, to which you happily nodded.

In the sweetest gesture, Carmen removed his own t-shirt so you wouldn't be alone. He unbuttoned his jeans and tossed them somewhere near the dining table, being left in just his boxers that outlined his slowly hardening cock.

"Thank you," you chuckled.

"Of course."

Carmen began trailing kisses from your neck down to your shoulder blade. His hands gently lifted your tank top over your head before cupping one of your breasts, his fingertips playing with your hard nipple as he kissed you one last time. He sank down to his knees, hooking your calves over his shoulders. You scooted a little closer to the edge of the counter to give him the best access to your throbbing cunt.

"Yep. Right here, baby."

He had you exactly where he wanted you.

You finally looked down at him after avoiding direct eye contact for the past few minutes. His blue eyes fully encapsulated you. He looked gorgeous between your thighs. Especially when he sucked little hickeys that wouldn't actually last against your inner thighs that made you squirm.

"You look pretty like this, bear," your hand reached to brush a loose curl out of his face. The flush that colored his pale cheeks was cute.

"You think so?" Carmen grinned. He relished in the feeling of having such gentle yet everlasting control. In his own kitchen, his beautiful girl in his hands, her thighs around his head, fully willing and wanting to let him take every part of her he could ever imagine.

You were nothing short of perfect to him.

Not wanting to waste any more time, and without preamble, he licked a bold stripe from your entrance to your swollen clit. Your breath hitched in your throat when his grip on your thighs tightened. He started to create a sense of rhythm, roughly sucking on the sensitive mound of nerve endings before soothing it with kitten licks and flat-tongued strides.

Your hand tugged at a handful of his curls. He groaned at the sensation, swirling his tongue around you to feel every fucking inch of your pussy.

"Fuck, Carmy..."

"You got the prettiest pussy, baby. So good and wet for me," he mumbled against you, his eyes still remaining closed. He needed to focus, or else he might fall apart at the sight of pure, filthy pleasure on your pretty face.

"Shut up—" you protested.

Your thighs began to shake as your head reeled back. Carmen hesitated for a moment, wiggling his fingers around anxiously before pulling his mouth away from your vulva and ever so carefully slipping in 2 large fingers.

A long, drawn out moan escaped your mouth the moment he curled his fingers upward into your g-spot. The idea of staying quiet was out of the fucking question. Oh, and now that Carmen's tongue was back on you? Forget it.

"Oh my fucking g—fuck!" you smacked your hand over your mouth, your other hand still entangled in your lovers hair. Pulling and tugging and earning the sexiest groans you'd ever heard in your life.

The sound of your voice slowly raising in pitch was enough for Carmen to change his pace. He inched himself even closer, and at an otherworldly speed flicked his tongue repeatedly against your clit. Over. And over. And over again. But his fingers slowed down to avoid overstimulating you. He needed this to last. Blissfully.

The knot in your stomach that indicated your teeter against your orgasm taunted you.

"Carm, I'm—" you took a short breath moaning incohereant babbles along the lines of 'so fuckin' good, just like that, baby' until you blurted, "I'm probably not gonna last any longer..'S too much."

You'd grown so desperate to cum that your hips ground back and forth, the tip of Carmens tongue perfectly brushing against your sensitive clit while he used the hand that was once fucking you to squeeze the fat of your breast. With his other hand, he reached down to palm his throbbing cock through the thin fabric of his boxers. He pulled his erection out from the cloth and stroked himself slowly, the final moan of "fuck," shortly followed by your name before he harshly sucked on your clit once more, was enough to throw you over the edge.

"Oh, fuck, Carmy!"

After the last couple minutes of him practically making out with your pussy, your body finally allowed itself to release, your legs shaking vigourisly as you tried desparately to catch your breath. You could literally feel a pulse-like sensation on your clit from the orgasm.

It was dirty, filthy; cumming on Carmen's pretty face right on top of his kitchen counter.

But fuck, was it hot.

—

"You think you got another one left in there for me, baby?" Carmen cooed, wrapping your legs around his hips and drawing you in so close that your breasts were pressed against his bare chest. He peppered kisses along your jaw until he resided on your lips, his tongue slipping in to create a sloppy, passionate mess of a kiss.

His clothed hard-on pressed against your clit, which was nearly fully recovered, lacking the overwhelming sensitivity it had just a couple minutes ago.

"Maybe you should find out," you teased against his ear, nipping at the skin of his neck right underneath. You gently pressed your hand against his chest, backing him up just the slightest bit so you could slip his pre-cum soaked boxers with ease.

Without another thought, Carmen carefully lined himself up with your pussy. The head of his dick passed between your folds to build anticipation. Your hands gripped his shoulders, slippery with sweat, once he finally began to push his raw cock into your hole, your arousal serving as a perfect lubricant.

"Fuck," he rasped as he watched his cock disappear into your pussy in awe "so fuckin' tight for me. So pretty n' perfect."

The two of you hardly waited to allow every thrust and slap of skin against skin get messy and rough. With Carmen desperately needing to cum and you anxiously needing to feel him inside of you, there wasn't much consideration for a slow fuck.

"Fuck me, Carmen."

With that, Carmen dug his hands into your hips and pulled several inches out of you before slamming back in. You somehow moaned louder every time. His face contorted to pure, ravenous pleasure and lust as moan and groan after groan writhed from his throat. Your nails clawed at his back, earning a "shit," and his teeth sinking into your shoulder as you ground back and forth against him to achieve the perfect thrusting angle.

"I love you," he whimpered, fucking whimpered his adoration for you. He was completely pussy drunk, his thrusts turning fast and short unlike they were when they started out.

Those words made your heart pound in your head. Sure, you'd exchanged 'I love you's' during the last year or so of your relationship, but you couldn't recall a time it was said during rough-kitchen-counter-sex.

"I love you so fuckin' much, Carm," you sobbed in a fit of utter horniness and overwhelming sense of pleasure, feeling Carmen's thick cock and squeezing your warm, gummy walls around him.

"I'm gonna cum, angel, I—"

"I know, baby. Go ahead. W-want you to fill me up."

Almost as if the universe had been working specifically in your favor, you managed to reach your orgasm just seconds before he did. Every drop of your arousal went down his thigh, while his cum perfectly filled up your cunt. He pulled out slowly watching the white and sticky semen drip down your hole.

"Was that your idea of me 'treating you' tonight?"

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto smut #the bear smut #jeremy allen white #ugh i love him #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader smut #the bear x reader #i actually love how this turned out

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hometoursandotherstuff · 4 months ago

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This 1924 Tudor in Detroit, MI really surprised me. It's in the prestigious Arden Park-East Boston Historic District, has 5bds, 6ba, listed for $685K, and if you're expecting English Tudor style, think again. Let's go inside.

The lovely original cathedral style door in the foyer.

And, hello marble floors, silver wallpaper and white, white, white.

In the sitting room there's a remodeled fireplace in black & white with mirrors.

The dining room is decorated in Chinese style.

The kitchen has some of the original features. The lower cabinets are new and so is the marble counter and backsplash.

The kitchen is an eat-in with plenty room for a table & chairs.

The pantry has an incredible original fridge. Even if it doesn't work, it's a great vintage piece that can used for storage.

The den is lovely with a wall of glass doors and shelving

Beautiful very large sun room. Look at how well-maintained the floor is.

The half bath was redecorated, but still has the original sink and toilet.

The hall and stairs were redecorated, but they left the niche.

Look at this landing.

The primary bedroom.

The bath looks original.

This bedroom looks is as large as the primary.

Another bath looks refreshed and vintage.

This room looks like an upstairs sitting room with a bar.

Downstairs there's a wonderful vintage finished basement- look at the tufted red bar and the fabulous black & red floor.

Another room in the basement, plus the laundry room.

That is so cool- I wonder if they'll leave that vintage stove. And, look at the huge utility sink.

Outside the sun room there's a patio.

And, a very pretty yard on a .38 acre lot.

Lovely 2 car garage.

Gated port cochere.

Very pretty neighborhood.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/244-Arden-Park-Blvd-Detroit-MI-48202/88655050_zpid/?

#english tudor remodeled #houses #house tours #home tour

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anthonys237thfreckle · 4 months ago

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Love in Oklahoma - Javier ‘Javi’ x F! reader

prompt: javi and his girl bought a small farm in Oklahoma, reworked it and adopted little nancy!

TW: mentions of injury, implications of smut

i saw @tempesttamers make a post about seeing anthony ramos with nancy and they needed a javi fic who has a miniature cow named nancy lol. it was such a cute idea, so thanks for that!

Whenever it wasn’t tornado season down in Oklahoma, the excitement was buzzing for the next one. Everyone round the bonfire of another cheap motel, all the storm chasers would gather and share stories of chasing a twister or two, the failures, close calls, successes… reminiscing the adrenaline high everyone felt in their own way.

But you and Javi had no place to stay apart from those motels. Your homes were far away from the southwest, and though storm season was over, Javi still needed to do a lot of research and analytics for storm patterns, their paths, conditions, humidity levels and even sometimes forecasts. Storm Par was busy all year.

Since he dragged you from your own job in the city down to Tornado Alley, you felt like you belonged down there, among the wheat fields, cheap food, thick humid air and wide skies; you and Javi would stargaze at times, and they seemed brighter down there for two reasons. One, there was no pollution for them to shy away behind and two, Javi was there - the man who seemed to make everything brighter.

So rather than stay basically homeless, Javi saved up some money and bought a little house with a farm. Barely half the size of a football field, it was selling for pretty cheap, so you Javi bought it for the two of you.

It wasn’t grand, but you two loved it very much. A small, simple, two story farmhouse with a porch, wide and welcoming, its wooden steps leading up to the red-brick house. Inside, it was definitely in need of some handiwork, but it was inviting nonetheless. After all, blank walls are nothing but a canvas to store potential. Dark stained wooden floorboards run throughout, giving it a rustic elegance. Though scuffed by generations of footsteps, they were very well polished. The kitchen, an open wide space, the heart of the home, had a traditional water pump basin and sink. You grinned when you saw it, turning to Javi who raised his eyebrows in shock and chuckled quietly, shaking his head in amusement. The sink sat beneath a window with a picturesque view of the backyard. White wooden cabinets adorned the walls, giving the kitchen its own light. Though the house was partially furnished, providing you with a large, rectangular dining table, some vintage pantry cabinets, and some sturdy chairs the previous owners left behind.

The second floor was led by some creaking wooden steps, and after climbing the short flight, you were met with a master bedroom with a large window overlooking the front yard, connected to a bathroom with checkered floor tiles, one of your new favourite things. They had a normal tap unlike the kitchen basin downstairs, and large mirror with some storage units and a shower. The other room, another bedroom, was smaller in comparison, but still had a window and a large bookshelf covering one whole wall. The other bathroom, almost as large as a room itself, was spacious, with two sinks, a rainshower, and bathtub.

Needless to say, you two fell in love with the house.

Once you two moved in, you both started to rework the place a little. Javi invited some close friends from Storm par and you invited Kate and the Tornado Wranglers to held paint the walls. Once that was done, everyone went out for dinner at a local diner, letting the stench of fresh paint air out. 2 weeks of relentless reworking went by, the crew made everything a lot faster; the house was homely, cozy, inviting. A bit of a contrast to the two city people you two were, but all the hard work made it all the more impressive. All your old stuff was shifted in, the crew helping you move all the heavy furniture, then left you two to do your own thing. Once everything was furnished, you both fell asleep on your shared bed upstairs, holding each other close.

After a day of rest, you both spent from sunrise to sunset out on the farm. Javi drove you to the farmer’s market, finding people who sold nearly mature crops with the purpose of repotting. You both bought 3 tomato plants - one in each colour: purple, red and yellow - 2 cucumbers, some Napa cabbage, romaine lettuce, arugula, some raspberry and blueberry shrubs. Once back the sun was high, you both slathered some sunscreen on and spent hours outside, repotting everything into the fertile southwestern soil.

The Tornado Wranglers came over for housewarming, bearing gifts; Kate bought you a pot of flowers, with her own recipe for a fertilizer which wasn’t damaging. Tyler brought a handmade sign saying ‘Not our first farmhouse!’ with the ‘Not’ crossed out in red paint. You accepted it with a laugh, and Javi just rolled his eyes playfully. Boone bought you both a vintage polaroid camera, and you had the idea of taking a photo of everyone who visited this house, and sticking it on the wall near the entrance, as a cute little housewarming idea. Lily brought some food, her famous enchiladas. Dani bought you two a weighted blanket and a toolbox, knowing how handy that can get. Dexter bought you two some encyclopedias and books you two would definitely enjoy. Everyone shared laughs and jokes and memories over dinner, and you both realized how this farmhouse really changed your lives.

You both started living a new life together, which contrasted everything before.

You always had a knack for baking and cooking, but only did so occasionally, because you could always buy bread from the supermarket, and you were busy. Now that you had joined Storm Par (once you cornered Javi and Scott into finding ethical investors) you both worked from home, giving you a lot of time for each other, and equally important, yourselves. Now, not a weekend went by when you went on a baking spree, pulling in Javi to help you out leading to flour fights, stolen chaste kisses where he’d lift you onto the counter, and everything in between. You baked sourdough, focaccia, dinner rolls, peanut butter cookies, muffins with fresh blueberries from the yard.

Javi rarely ate breakfast, mostly because he was too lazy or never had the will to eat anything shitty anyways, so every morning he’d be blessed with a platter of fresh herbed butter on sourdough toast, free range eggs from some chickens you both bought, and crispy organic bacon. Now, he claims breakfast is his second favourite meal, and when you ask what comes first, he just gives you a knowing look, which ends up with him getting flicked on the forehead.

All in all, your lives had changed for the better, but it was only about to get even better.

As you both drove back from the farmer’s market one evening, you saw a little curled up black and white creature on the side of the road

“Hey, baby, look..” you pointed over, and his eyes followed yours.

“Is that-” he slammed the breaks, rushing out of the car, you following behind.

It was a baby cow, or a miniature one, and its leg had a horrible gash on it.

“Its owners probably ditched her, pool gal…” He said softly, stroking the calf’s head when he found no ear tag on her.

You and Javi shared a look, and a silent communication went between you two. You needed to help her out.

You rushed over to your trunk, pouring out some milk and giving her some sustenance in the hopes of earning her trust. After carefully lifting her, making sure she didn’t thrash around, Javi put her in the backseat after you put a blanket down. You sat with her, the animals’ head resting in your lap. You drove a little way out of town for a vet, and after a quick checkup, you were given some ointment, and since the calf was abandoned, you both decided to keep it.

“Come on, Nancy” Javi said soothingly, carrying calf back into the car.

“Nancy?” you chuckled “We’re naming her already?”

“Yeah” Javi said with a chuckle “I like Nancy” he smiled, petting the calf’s head

“So do I” You said after a moment of thought. “Let’s get going”

Once everyone was back home, you brought out a wheelbarrow, and Javi put Nancy in there, the both of you gently bringing her to the barn. Once she was settled on a pile of hay, Javi gently tied her neck to a pole, making sure it wasn’t cutting anything off. You brought a bottle of milk with you, feeding her as her big black eyes got drowsier.

“Can I sleep here with her?” Javi asked you with concern.

“In the barn?” you laughed “Seriously?”

“I’m dead serious, (name)” Javi said, a look of determination you couldn’t fight.

“Alright, let me get the limoncello candle” you said in fake annoyance. Javi smiled, and called out.

“Love you, baby!”

—

Once you came back with the lit limoncello candle to ward off any bugs, setting it in the corner, you brought some sleeping bags and a bottle of water and milk, for you two and Nancy.

“I’m sleeping here with you” You said, handing him a sleeping bag.

“You don’t have to..” Javi said softly, never taking his eyes off Nancy as he stoked her head, tracing the blotches of black on her cream fur.

“I want to” you reassured, settling into the sleeping bag. “G’night, Javi” you murmured after giving him a sweet peck on the lips.

“Love you” he said, watching you over his shoulder as you settled in for the night.

“Love you too” you yawned “You know, if you changed your mind-”

“No” He interrupted you stubbornly “I’m staying here with Nancy” He reinforced.

“Whatever you say, baby” you chuckled, closing your own droopy eyes. “Make sure to actually catch some sleep”

“Yeah, I will. I promise” He nodded. “Goodnight, (name), I love you”

“Love you too, Jalapeño” you chuckled “Goodnight”

Javi chuckled at the nickname you loved using, and watched as you fell asleep. He looked over at a now asleep Nancy and smiled. He was so happy he bought this little home with you. He looked over at you again, then crawled over, unzipping the sleeping bag.

“Javier….” you whined “I was falling asleep!”

“Hold on just a second, baby..” He unzipped the sleeping bag, detached the zippers on his own one, and attached the two bags together and crawled inside, zipping it back up.

“Now we can cuddle!” he grinned, and you shook your head with a chuckle, burying your head in his chest and wrapping your arms around his torso.

“Okay, now really goodnight.” you murmured with mock annoyance.

“Yeah, really” He chuckled, nodding. “Goodnight, love”.

And with that, you both fell asleep in the barn, in each other’s arms, alongside your new companion. Javi dreamt of your lives progressing in this little farmhouse, filling it up with kids, maybe a German Shepherd… ironically, the house did have a white picket fence too, which made everything all the more cliche. But he didn’t care how much of a sap he was around you - since you seemed to love it anyway. Your lives had gotten so much.. lovelier.

If anything, you both found more love here, in Oklahoma.

#foryou #fyp #tumblr fyp #anthony ramos #twisters 2024 #twisters movie #anthony fucking ramos #twisters #javier rivera x reader #javi rivera #javi x you #javier ‘javi’ rivera #javi x reader #javier x reader #nancy #nancyfromtwisterslmao #NANCYSASTAR

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crazymadpassionatelove · 7 months ago

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Cool Girl

Notes: None of this would be possible without my dearest darlings @ab4eva and @precious-little-scoundrel! All the hugs and kisses to you both xo

Part 2

Here's the thing nobody ever admits about being the other half of a celebrity: it's actually as hard or as easy as you make it. Enter hunky, gifted actor who just happens to be hung like a horse? Well, being his lady isn't hard at all. You just have to know the rules. Number one, you can't hear the noise. Not literally, you can hear it. You must strive to live in such a bubble that none of it matters though. You shop, power walk your gated community, and take cock like it's the only job you have. Truly, it is. Pleasing him is of utmost importance. Be ready to hop a plane at a moment’s notice, or even get fucked on said plane. You're so busy spending your man’s cash snapping up authentic mid-century modern homes before certain celebrities turn them into minimalist gray prisons, raising money for dogs who need prosthetics, and trying your hand at that sourdough bread craze, you really don't even have time to see the Instagram hate being spewed your way 24/7.

Number two, remaining an enigma. Selling energy drinks on social media? Having your man pay off some fast fashion brand to “partner” with you for a collection? Appearing on some campy sitcom as a guest star? Not for you, the thought of it actually makes you recoil. You're too busy doing all the little things and making his once barely furnished house a home. Homemade chocolate chip cookies with the chocolate specially flown in from Belgium on his private plane? Check! Gold vintage jewelry via that cute little flea market in Paris is clanking as you insist on being the ones to change the bedroom sheets. A housekeeper comes once a month, and even she comments coyly about your chemistry. Still, she need not see the soaked sheets from the multiple round of lovemaking the two of you do at all hours of the day and night.

Being seen on the red carpet is not your cup of tea, but it's the equivalent of attending your man's office Christmas party. So you pick out a dress, aka one of the couture houses offers to dress you, and he flies you to Paris for multiple fittings and macarons. Then there's some vintage Van Cleef jewelry that appears on the dining room table one morning, and a fresh new pair of Louboutins is the final piece to the puzzle. Then, looking very demur and shy, you appear on his arm, clinging to it actually. You'll smile at the various television hosts and press. Speak softly, and practically defer to him for all questions. He's the star, you're just a great supporting act. Then, when the night is finally done, you both breathe a sigh of relief and he thanks you for being such a good sport. How about a McDonald's drive thru run, huh? That face, oh that handsome fucking face of his that you've been dying to kiss all night. He just always knows what to say. So that's how you're papped still in your couture gown, he in a wrinkled white button down, his jacket slid around your shoulders, feeding each other French fries and chicken nuggets, splitting a milkshake. How wholesome and Americana honestly.

That night he promises to thank you again. Austin's perfect lips wrap themselves around your puffy clit as two, then three fingers curl, shove, and squelch inside you. “You were such a good girl the whole night, baby.” There's something about being called a good girl that makes you absolutely feral. He brings you to orgasm over and over, you lose count after about 7. He's just getting started though. He hasn't even slipped inside. When he does though, it's rough. The glorious slapping sounds of flesh fill the room as he brings himself to the edge over and over, denying himself a release and giving you an additional, what three or four orgasms? You've left feral behind and have crossed over into absolute animalistic filth as you bury yourself in the goose down pillows and practically shove it in your mouth howling. Letting him have his way as you throb and clench, hot and pink with almost blurred vision as he talks you through it. Peppering the conversation with lots of “that's my girl, my pretty baby cums so damn pretty”. When you think you're in need of a paramedic, he blows inside you something reminiscent of Niagara falls. He knows how much you love a vocal man. You end the night not being able to feel your limbs or do anything beyond closing your eyes with a lazy, bashful grin. He gives you one last slap to the ass then mentions as you drift off, “Could you make some of those brownies of yours for the cast and crew tomorrow?”

The third rule of being the other half to everyone's favorite blue eyed baby boy actor? Less is more. This sort of goes hand in hand with the enigma rule. Those celebrities who traipse around in loud designer clothing and accessories covered in flashy logos? That's not you or your man for that matter. Sure you have handbags that cost more than some people's cars, but they are solid authentic leather bags your guy finds you in far flung corners when he's on location. No one really notices when you're papped and printed in People Magazine. You keep your head down in aviators he takes to wearing, a nice little subtle nod. The bands you each wear on that finger are a solid Welsh gold. Whenever his slightly deranged fans see you, the one thing they can't call you is a golddigger. You drive a jeep or even that old Ford truck he restored himself, no Lamborghinis in your garage.

Part of the less is more shtick though is being able to give a cute little nod to him here and there when appropriate. When he's cast in a certain biopic that alters his career and your lives? You sit tight and let him have his moment, after all, you know all the behind the scenes work that goes into it. The blood, sweat, and tears. There are times when he takes method acting to such a level that it's almost like going to bed with another man. You can't exactly complain though. The slight drawl that appears when he says your name is something he is never able to truly shake and you're glad. When the moment is right though, you post a tongue in cheek Instagram post. Your feed is normally bogged down with pictures of the pets, your baking, and various charities you support. This time though, you post a rare photo of yourself looking like you're a certain sort of American royalty stepped from a time machine. It's a candid shot with you at his feet. Worshiping. Except now it's sort of like you worship two men. It's fairly well received, friends tell you, though there will always be hate. Remember, you can't hear the noise. You certainly can't hear the noise women old enough to be your grandmother are making as they lust over the man who's cock you gag on every night.

Those utterly delectable fingers of his snake inside you, make you hiss and come undone as that tongue in cheek sort of throw back makeup you're sporting runs down your cheeks. “Who's my pretty girl?” He teases you. A good hour later when he finally allows himself his own release he's panting your name into your ear. He settles himself in between your breasts. Didn't his agent once mention the girls on Tumblr call him baby boy? If only they could catch a glimpse of him now. Murmuring against your skin and tracing what feels like hearts on your arms. You scroll Zillow and read out the six-figure price tags on castles in Ireland. How does fucking in a dungeon sound, honey?

Rule number four? Be ready to go to bat for him at any moment, others opinions be damned. Being Austin's other half brings out a protective streak in you. A maternal bodyguard quasi agent of sorts. Always keep your eyes peeled for the photogs, especially when he's indulging in that pesky little smoking habit he doesn't exactly like to advertise. That actual management team of his isn't bad, especially once the Elvis flick is underway and you learn just exactly how bad certain managers can be. Still, nobody has his best interests at heart the way you do. Keep his favorite snacks on hand in your purse, water ready at a moment's notice. Your boy has a tendency to work himself to the bone and you certainly cannot allow him to run himself ragged. Tea with hot honey every night was a must while he immersed himself in Elvis. Be his soft place, let him cry and vent while you run your fingers through those golden locks. Take whatever you can off his plate so he can dedicate himself to his craft.

Some wonder if you've lost yourself in him and his life, but it's the exact opposite. You've found yourself. When that angel boy praises you during press tours and jokes on talk shows about you flying out in the middle of the night to see to it his shirts are starched the way he likes and he eats breakfast, well you just sit there and smile. “I couldn't be me without her.” Those words make you melt and you immediately crave the feeling of his hot cream inside you. Playing Elvis brought out a side of him that never truly leaves once filming wraps. Stressed? Tired? Enamored? Him bending you over while you're brushing your teeth becomes a common occurrence. “That's my baby – take it, take it,” you've gotta talk it all out of him sometimes and that's fine with you. You stand in the wings of the Kelly Ripa show and try in vain to hide your red face when a PA offers you a napkin. “I think you spilled something down your leg,” the young girl offers. Something spilled all right, him inside you with his hands gripping your hair just minutes before he was due on stage.

Everything is just so right, it's only natural that cool girl very quickly becomes cool wife.

#Ashley finally writes #austin butler #austin x reader #elvis presley #cool girl #Austin Butler AU #austin butler imagine #Elvis x reader #austin butler fic #austin butler smut #elvis smut #austin butler fanfiction #elvis fanfiction

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purinfelix · 3 days ago

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HII!! can i request a mistletoe?

So i was thinking of the scene in notting hill where william(random guy) and anna(famous movie star) meet for the first time at the bookshop and later william spills orange juice on her, he take anna to his flat to change and before leaving anna kisses him (idk if i should be more elaborate with the plot help)

maybe you can write something smiliar or with this plotline for franco?

<3 love you

out of reach ᯓ★ - franco colapinto

w/c: 1.2k a/n: OHHH NOTTING HILL IS LITERALLY ONE OF MY FAV FILMS EVER I LOVE U FOR THIS - this req literally gave me an excuse to go rewatch this scene so tysm (also this started out as a blurb but .... here we are)

this is part of my 1k event - check out the rules here!!

It was your day off - or at least, it was supposed to be.

You had it all planned out, since being one of the hottest up-and-coming actresses meant time to yourself was extremely scarce. Starting the morning a little later by letting yourself sleep in, then going for a walk downtown through the morning markets and vintage stores, even dropping into a small travel-book store that caught your eye. Not so much because of your passion for travel books but rather for the boyishly charming store clerk who you locked eyes with through the front window.

But that was where you encountered your first issue, when the only other customer in the store recognised you and proceeded to ask you for a signature, while you were trying to pay for a book. Of course, you obliged, but to your surprise, the clerk continued to ring up your ridiculously overpriced book without even seeming to recognise you, or at least, he pretended not to - instead going on a tangent about how, really, your mistake was buying such a poorly written book, though you chose not to heed his advice just yet.

With just the little bump in the road cleared, you were free to return to your perfect day, a fact which lasted all of ten minutes before being interrupted. Only this time it was by a total idiot running into you with a coffee cup full of orange juice - and who even orders orange juice from a cafe? - spilling it all over your white shirt.

You were prepared to lose it until you peeked over your dark sunglasses, a weak attempt at a disguise, and caught the eye of none other than the boy from the bookstore. Immediately he began rattling off apologies, and whilst a small part of you found it a little cute, they did little to fix your sour mood. That's when he mentioned that he, conveniently, lived just a couple steps away from the street corner the two of you were standing on and that you could come over and clean yourself up.

So that's how you ended up here, in the entryway of some stranger's house - a charming stranger, but a stranger nonetheless - soaked in orange juice while he scrambled ahead of you to clean up the mess he lived in.

"Right," he huffed, noisily shoving empty pizza boxes into the nearest bin, "come on in, the bathrooms on the top floor."

You do as he says, offering an awkward smile to show appreciation for him allowing you to come over but also how weirded out you are by this whole interaction. Once upstairs, you hastily change into the only spare clothes you have - being a sparkly top and skirt combo you had been planning on wearing to tomorrow's press tour, but would have to do for now.

As you tentatively climb down the creaking stairs, you're met with the sight of the stranger clearing his dining table - which is covered in half-empty cups and unwashed plates. When he hears you though, he spins around with a bewildered expression, lips slightly parted as his eyes follow you.

For a minute you just stand there, watching his expression as the side of his mouth quirks up into a smile and as strange as it seems, you feel almost shy under his gaze.

"Oh, sorry," he finally says, breaking the silence, "do you want something to drink? Coffee?"

"No, thanks."

"Tea?"

"I'm good."

"Mate?"

"Ma- what?"

"It's from Argentina, where I'm from, it's really good, I drink about two litres of it every morning," he begins excitedly rambling once more, picking up a cup and flask from his counter and bringing it to you. "I know it doesn't look like much but it really flushes you out, like if you eat something bad in the morning just a couple sips of this and you're-" he gestures with his hands to demonstrate the laxative effect of the drink and you can't help but let out an amused laugh as you shake your head.

"Right, well, how about something to eat?" He moves swiftly, setting down the cup to open his fridge and from where you're standing you can just see inside it - though there isn't much apart from a couple old apples and a half-eaten mandarin.

"An apple?" he offers.

"No," you smile.

"Do you always say no to everything?"

You think for a little before replying slowly, "No." He nods, understandingly.

"Well, I better get going," you say. "Thanks for your," you pause, searching for the right word to describe this experience, "help."

leans his head against the corner of his fridge, green eyes on yours. "And before you go, can I just say," he begins and you brace yourself, finally, for him to make a comment about how he recognises you.

"Once you read that book, I don't think you'll be coming back to my store anytime soon, it's awful, really."

"I'll keep that in mind," you say, smiling in relief as you begin to move towards the door, and once he realises this, he moves quickly to open it for you.

"It was nice meeting you," he breathes out as the two of you stand in the doorway, "strange but nice." You nod in agreeance, and in amusement at how awkward he seems - but also how charmed you are by it. Standing there, with seemingly the only man in the world who doesn't see you immediately for the films you've been in or the characters you've played, you feel an intense force drawing you towards it.

And before you realise what you're doing or have the sanity to stop yourself, you're up on your tiptoes, with one arm wrapped around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. He doesn't seem any less shocked by your sudden actions than you do, but soon, you feel a strong arm wrap around your waist.

Pulling away, you let out a quick breath, mostly in disbelief at what you've just done, and when you look at the dazed expression on his face you can assume he feels the same.

"I'm really sorry about that strange but nice comment from earlier."

"That's okay, I thought the," you pause to mimic his actions from before when describing the mate, "bit was a real low point."

He laughs before saying abruptly, "Franco."

"Sorry?"

"My name, it's Franco."

"Well, Franco, it was nice meeting you," you turn to grab the doorknob with one hand but pause to turn to him again, "Oh, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about this."

"Right, of course, no one," he nods eagerly, "I mean, I'll tell myself but even then I might not believe it." You can't help but let out an amused laugh as you slip out his door, and back into the sun of the late morning - and as you do, you're unable to stop yourself from smiling.

#jet's 1k event ᝰ.ᐟ #jet writes ★#purinfelix #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto fanfic #franco colapinto fluff #franco colapinto oneshot #williams racing #williams f1 #formula one fanfic #formula one x reader #formula one fluff #formula one

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vintagehomecollection · 5 months ago

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Designing with Tile, Stone & Brick, 1995

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phoward89 · 9 months ago

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Banner by me. Dividers by @saradika

Summary: Coriolanus took his wife out, in more ways than one, while you were safe and sound in his 12th floor Corso penthouse. But when you see a breaking news report, you realize that the man you share a bed with is a snake. A snake that kills with poison. And you decide to confront him about your knowledge of poisons.

Warnings: Coriolanus Snow is his own warning! Possessive!Coriolanus, Obsessive!Coriolanus, DelusionalCoriolanus, Dark!Coriolanus, Soft Dark!Coriolanus?, Head Gamemaker!Coriolanus, Poison, Murder, Blood, Plotting/Scheming Couple, um think that's about it

Story Masterlist

Chapter 5

Coriolanus sipped on his wine, watching his wife look around the dining room impatiently. She was fidgeting in her seat; it was embarrassing.

He was paying good money on a meal that they'd never eat, cause she'd be dead soon and he'd be hacking up blood. The least Livia could do was conduct herself properly in public.

The damn shrew was impossible to train. So impatient. Greedy, spoiled, rich bitch was so used to getting her way that waiting a few extra minutes for their seafood appetizer was too much to handle.

God, he's so happy that he dumped that vial of poison in their wine bottle (that he had the waiter leave on their table) after convincing his vain wife that she needed to powder her nose; that it was too shiny.

Soon, very very soon the poison will kick in and Livia will drop dead.

Not him though.

No, he won't die, but he'll get sick though since he's only partially immune to this strong, but sweet tasting poison that pairs so well with the vintage Merlot.

Truth be told, the side effects of the poison he was drinking tonight would stick with him for more than a few hours.

In fact Coriolanus would be stuck in bed recovering for a good week or so. A recovery that would consist of being weak, spitting up blood, and not being able to keep anything other than liquids down.

“Why is it taking so long for our appetizer?” Livia whined, turning to sit properly in her seat. She was giving him an impatient look.

He's sure the oysters rockefeller will be out any minute now.

Just in time for the fun to begin.

“Well, Livia, they do have to cook it.” He sarcastically reminded his soon to be dead wife.

“Don't be condescending with me, Coriolanus. I'm your wife, not some whore from a black market brothel you can speak down to.” The dirty blonde scolded him in an uppity tone while reaching for her wine.

Yes, drink up.

Right now Coriolanus was ecstatic that his nearly dead wife was a lush. The more wine she drank meant the quicker he's rid of her.

Oooo… a poisoning death has never made him more happy then hers.

He couldn't wait for her to start bleeding from her nose and choking on her own blood that'd clog her lungs.

Putting down his glass, he subtly motioned to the waiter making his way to their table. “The oysters rockefeller’s on its way now, Livia.”

“You know, husband, that most men call their wives a pet name; not use their name every time they speak to them.” Livia snapped as the waiter got closer to the table, tray of oyster appetizers in his hand.

“Yes well most husbands love their wives, yet here we are just barely tolerating each other for money and social standings.” Coriolanus factually states, his eyes following the waiter’s every move.

Livia chugged down her wine as the waiter appeared at the table, placing the appetizer tray down on the white linen tablecloth. “Finally. It took you long enough.” Livia rudely remarked, causing the waiter to quickly apologize and leave.

“Your manners are atrocious, Livia.” Coriolanus pointed out as he served them their appetizer.

Fortunately, in a few minutes, he'll never have to deal with her atrocious manners ever again. He'll be free to be with you; he knows that since you're young he can train you. Make sure that you act properly, know your place by his side and as the First Lady of Panem.

“And you parade around like some gentleman when you both know that you have degenerate desires and urges.”

“Livia…” he hissed in a low warning. Why was she bringing this up here, in a crowded restaurant where anyone could overhear? Did she have any decency, any respect for him?

No.

She doesn't, otherwise she wouldn't be insulting his sexual preferences while they’re at her last super.

Ignoring his hissed warning, Livia scooped a small piece of oyster up with her fork while telling her husband, “People are starting to talk, Coriolanus, in the social circles about us being married for so long and not having any children.”

“And whose fault is that, Livia?” Coriolanus asked, taking a bite of his own seafood appetizer. “You're the one that refuses to share a bed with me. Who's shot me down anytime I attempt to bring up the subject of children.” He reminded her as his nose began to burn, tingle, and twitch with the telltale signs of an upcoming nose bleed.

Yes, any second now his wife’ll be dead and he'll be free of his life sentence. He'll be free to make you his in every sense of the word.

“I've been told that there's a clinic that specializes in reproductive matters. That the doctor at the clinic is able to collect the necessary products from us to make an embryo in a lab; that we could even have it implanted into a female avox as a surrogate so that I wouldn't have to touch you or ruin my body by getting fat.”

Was she serious right now? She expected him to be on board with having a science baby? A baby supposedly made from their collected samples and mixed up in a test tube, in a lab.

In a lab.

Coriolanus remembers his time studying and interning under Dr. Gaul, before that terrible accident she had right before he graduated University and was given her Head Gamemaker job. He remembers the experiments that took place in the labs. How creatures were created out of thin air with a few strands of DNA samples. How easily DNA could be twisted and mutated into a creature so vile, so horrible, so deadly.

No.

He wasn't going to have a mutt for a child. Especially one carried by an avox.

No, he was going to have children the old fashioned way with you. And he'll make sure that you enjoy making them too.

Livia’s eyes went wide and she dropped her fork, causing it to loudly clatter onto the bone china plate. Blood began to trickle down her nostrils as she grabbed her neck, clawing at it in a vain attempt for air.

Oh, show time. The poison’s kicked in.

Coriolanus knew what to expect in the seconds to come, he's been through it before. So, deciding that he wanted the last word, he leaned in close to Livia and simply told her, “Snow lands on top.”

When he sat back, blood began to trickle from his own nose, along with rising from his stomach and filling up his mouth.

By this point, blood poured from Livia’s mouth and she was choking on it.

All the while the dining room of Avelina's was full of screams and terrified cries from the elite capitolites whose meals were now ruined.

Coriolanus watches the life drain out of his wife's eyes as he began coughing up blood.

It was a beautiful sight to behold.

You were in a cozy sweater, curled up on the sofa with a steaming cup of tea in your hand. You sent Tigris home hours ago because, even though she was very nice to you, you couldn't handle how she looked at you.

How she treated you like you're made out of fragile glass.

Even though Coryo was a bit much with his hot-cold behavior, he didn't treat you like you're made out of fragile glass. In fact it felt like the opposite. That he wasn't afraid if he shattered you, if you broke.

Coriolanus wasn't purposely trying to break you, or at least you didn't think he was, but he didn't watch his tongue and tiptoe around you.

He was blunt with you; treated you like a person instead of a victim of the games.

Coryo had no problems treating you like a woman, that's for sure. Your status as a victor that had seen horrors in the arena did nothing to deter him from his dominant nature in bed with you.

You know that you shouldn't seek solace with the head gamemaker, the man that designed the arena along with all the twists and turns of this July’s games, but you couldn't help but feel like he was the only one that treated you like a normal human being.

Coriolanus knew, perhaps better than anyone else, the horrors you've seen in the games and he didn't pity you. In fact, the way he looked at you seemed to be almost prideful.

His icy blue eyes also held a sense of lust and possession in them too, but you swore he saw pride in them.

Maybe you were overthinking everything. The way he felt about you didn't matter: he was married.

Of course he was married, he was 15 years older than you.

As you sipped on your tea, you couldn't help, but worry about how your brother and his girlfriend would treat you when you (eventually) went home. Would they tread lightly with you like Tigris does or would they treat you like they did before you left? Would Rein and Ashlie view you as different, would they pity you?

And then the thought of the neighbor boy, the freshly 15 year old Corbin Everdeen, popped into your head.

Would he stop chasing your heels like a puppy; think that you were horrible for killing 7 people in the Hunger Games, or would he still chase you around? Still pester you to listen to whatever song he was working on for his weekend performances at the hob, once you returned to 12?

You think being the Victor of the First Quarter Quell will make Corbin (who Rein felt was a borderline stalker with how he was always finding ways to be around you) leave you alone since he hated the games. He felt that the games changed people; either made them murderers or drove them mad out of their minds with paranoia. He felt that if you got reaped then you should just let yourself be struck down in the bloodbath in order to preserve your identity; to keep the Capitol from stealing and corrupting your soul.

You didn't do what the neighbor boy musician told you to do.

No.

You did what your older brother told you to do. You fought to survive. You did whatever it took to make it out alive.

You trained in those 2 weeks you were given in the tribute center, you listened to the Academy student that was assigned as your mentor (since District 12 didn't have a living victor to mentor you), and you dazzled the audience in your interview.

The gorgeous dresses that Tigris made for you helped sell you as the Capitol Darling too.

It all came in handy when you received a training score of 8 (your mentor thought that you deserved at least a 10 and she was livid that the gamemakers only gave you an 8) and received a few sponsors from it.

You took your brother's advice to heart and did what you had to do to survive. But now you're here, sitting in the head gamemaker’s penthouse while pondering whether or not you'll ever have people treat you normally ever again.

Some reward for winning, huh?

And to think that they tell you once you win you'll go home; will be able to live your life in peace.

Like fucking hell.

That's not what's happening to you right now.

Nope…

So, since you had no control over anything in your life right now, all you could do was sip on your hot tea and watch some rom-com on Capitol TV.

It was amazing how Coriolanus’ TV had more than 3 channels. It also amazes you how the thing took up most of his wall in the main room too.

As you watched the couple on TV do the classic coworkers fake dating for the winter holidays to make the girl's ex jealous trope, you couldn't help, but miss your cat. She used to curl up in your lap when you watched tv.

Suddenly, right as the couple on TV was fumbling thru their fake meet story, a breaking news report interrupted the movie.

You couldn't help, but sigh as you listened to the reporter at the news desk say, “We here at Capitol News 6 are so sorry to be interrupting your programs, but we have just gotten some horrible and heartbreaking, well, breaking news.” The reporter took a moment to put on a sad face and take a silent pause before announcing, “Socialite Livia Cardew-Snow, wife of Head Gamemaker Coriolanus Snow, died of sudden food poisoning merely an hour ago in the Capitol restaurant Avelina’s. Our beloved head gamemaker himself is currently being treated at Capitol General and is expected to make a full recovery.”

What?

Your wheels are turning. You knew that botulism took 48 hours to kill and salmonella had different levels of severity, but wouldn't just cause somebody to drop dead in the middle of a restaurant.

There was only one reason for Livia's sudden death and Coriolanus' sudden near death experience that he'd recover from.

He poisoned his wife and himself, but with not as high of a dose that he gave his wife, and made it look like food poisoning because they were at a restaurant.

What the hell?! How could he be so reckless? What if he accidentally gave himself a fatal dose, then where would that leave you?

That damn snake…

“Let’s go live to our favorite weather and reporter for all things game related, Lucretius ‘Lucky’ Flickerman, who’s with our beloved Head Gamemaker Coriolanus Snow in his hospital room.” The news desk reporter said before the screen cut to live footage of Lucky Flickerman standing next to Coriolanus, who was sitting up in a hospital bed.

You took one look at Coriolanus and knew what kind of poison he used. He used a toxic metal based poison made from either cadmium, selenium, or arsenic.

It's the only kind of poison that would've killed Livia Cardew-Snow so quickly; would leave Coryo coughing up blood and looking so pale and weak in his hospital bed.

You knew about the dangers of metals such as cadmium, selenium, and arsenic leaching into water and turning it into poison from your brother's career as a coal miner. It's the reason why he won't use the water at the mines; why he brings his own in a large glass jug with him to work.

Rein told you that when new shafts are carved into the coal mines or when new mines were blown into the side of the mountains that the leftover rubble gets dumped to the side where it leeches and runs off into water, creating poison for anyone who drinks it.

You've seen the effects of the poisoned mine water too when you started your short lived internship at the apothecary right before you got reaped.

It wasn't pretty.

But the few men that survived, mostly young men that were still in their teens or early 20s, spat up blood, had mouth sores, ulcers, and could barely eat for weeks while they recovered and fought the poison.

They had the same weak, pale, sunk in look that Coriolanus had right now as he laid in his hospital bed telling some bullshit story to the media about the food poisoning that killed Livia and nearly killed him.

Oh, you swear, you're giving him a piece of your mind when he shows up at the penthouse.

And you knew he'd show up since he killed his wife to be able to have you in his bed.

God, you're now sharing a bed with a snake.

“You should be asleep, darling.” Coriolanus chastised you, walking into the main room of the penthouse in the wee hours of the morning.

He looked like shit. Had blood dripping from the side of his mouth.

God, you were so pissed at him. Before you could think better of it, you chucked your teacup at his head, but it just went over his shoulder and shattered against the wall. “You want to off your wife with poison, fine, but don't drink the damn shit yourself, Coriolanus!” You angrily screamed.

“I don't know what you're talking about, Y/N. I got food poisoning from bad seafood; unfortunately it killed my wife.” Coriolanus smoothly lied, his face an unwavering mask.

“I interned at the apothecary in District 12 before I got reaped, Coriolanus. I've seen the signs of cadmium, selenium, and arsenic poisoning since the water from the mines is tainted from it.” You bluntly told the platinum blonde while standing to your feet. Walking up to him, you said, “You have the signs. You're coughing up blood, you're pale and your face looks sunk in.” His icy blue eyes narrowed at you. “Bet you got a sore in your mouth, if not then it'll pop up soon.” Pointing to his stomach, you warned, “Watch yourself, metal based poisons are notorious for causing bleeding ulcers.”

Coryo's jaw twitched as he looked down at you. “I see you're well educated for a girl from District 12. Let me ask you, how do you feel about what I did tonight?” A dark smirk twisted on his bloodstained lips as he asked, “Are you going to be a loose end for me, my darling rose?”

“Honestly, I'm not upset that you killed your wife. What I'm upset about is that you drank that poison too. You drank it without even worrying about what would happen to me if something went wrong and you dropped dead too.”

“Darling,” Coriolanus reached out with his hand, attempting to pull you into him and comfort you, but you pushed him away.

He weakly stumbled, but balanced himself by grabbing a nearby the back of a nearby sitting chair.

“Did you even stop and think about what happens to me if you died or are incapacitated? Huh?!” You asked, on the verge of angry tears. You didn't even give him the chance to answer you. No, you just barreled on with, “Would I get sent back to 12 even though Victor's Village hasn't been built yet or would I be passed onto your successor, whoever would take your place as head gamemaker?"

“Nobody will ever get their hands on you, my darling rose.” Coryo swore as he weakly collapsed in the sitting chair. “I’ll kill anyone that tries to take you from me.” He darkly vowed while coughing up blood.

“You're going to be laid up in bed for a week, maybe 2.” You told him, watching as he took his handkerchief from his breast pocket; coughing into it. The blood spurts from his coughing stained the white cloth red, as if little rain drops had drizzled on it.

You felt bad for him, watching him struggling to breath as his chest rattled with every bloody cough he let out.

You went over to his chair and knelt by his side. You knew he wouldn't stop poisoning people. Not with the outburst that he just had. But you knew that you couldn't let him keep using dangerous metal based poisons either.

Whether you wanted to admit it or not, your red string of fate was tied to the head gamemaker. You needed him for your survival.

Taking one of his hands in yours, you revealed, “Coryo, I have an apothecary book back in my room in District 12. It has recipes for herbal remedies, medicines, poisons, and antidotes in it.”

God, you were going straight to hell for what you were going to say next.

“If you can somehow get me that book I’ll help you make poisons that won't hurt you. That you can take an antidote ahead of time for; that won't make you sick.”

Coriolanus let out a rumbling cough, soaking his handkerchief, only to look at you with a mix of astonishment and admiration in his baby blues. “You'd do that for me? Make me poisons to use on my enemies?”

You remembered what he told you in the hospital, that the Capitol was a dangerous place. Was a chess game of life; that he'd teach you how to play and master it in time.

Well, no time like the present.

“You're enemies are my enemies too, aren't they? Maybe moreso since I'm district.”

Coryo's calloused thumb ran over yours knuckles and he gave you a crimson stained smile. “You're not district, my darling rose. You're a victor, like me.”

If only you knew how damning those words truly were. Would you have tried to get away or would you have still let the white snake wrap himself around you.

But you were a snake as well, weren't you? For only a snake could truly feel safe with another snake.

Where you always a snake or did you just choose to become one because you were drawn to the dark beauty of a beautiful devil?

Tags: @kuroosbby001, @purriteen, @poppyflower-22, @meetmeatyourworst, @whipwhoops, @bxtchopolis, @readingthingsonhere,@savagenctzen, @ryswritingrecord, @erikasurfer, @tulips2715, @universal-s1ut, @thesmutconnoisseur, @squidscottjeans, @sudek4l, @wearemadeofstardust0, @mashiromochi , @gracieroxzy, @belcalis9503, @shari-berri, @aoi-targaryen, @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch , @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons, @qoopeeya, @mfnqueen1

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blizzard-bells · 2 years ago

Photo

Contemporary Dining Room in Miami

#Small trendy porcelain tile enclosed dining room photo with white walls modern etagiere #vintage bamboo screen #saarinen tulip table #vintage mid-century bar #retro #dwr dining chiars

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ifancyharry · 2 years ago

Text

Under the italian sun

Hiiii lovelies :) first of all thank you for liking and reblogging my work, i love you all so much💓 this is something i wrote as a proud italian, it's just tooth aching fluff. if you want to listen to the song mentioned, here it is, it's one of my favorites!

What it is: fluff; a day spent with Harry in his house near Rome

Word count: 3.7k

“Oh, I missed Italy’s weather!” YN sighs, her chest heaving as she takes small intakes of the humid Italian air.

“It’s so hot though” Harry whines, “here, hold this.” He hands her his Pleasing cream bag he uses when traveling, and YN holds it in her arms between them as Harry searches for the house keys.

“I still don’t get why you pack that bag to the brim” she chuckles, the bag resting heavy on her folded forearms, “why can’t you use suitcases like everyone else?” She questions, but Harry doesn’t answer, still busy looking for the keys, his eyebrows furrowed as he’s getting more and more frustrated, the hot sun burning against his unprotected skin. When YN had asked him — still on the plane — if he wanted to put on sunscreen, he had shook his head, grimacing at the sticky white liquid as she covered her face in it, claiming he didn’t need it and the sun wouldn’t be that hot; now, as he can already feel his skin start to redden, he thinks maybe he should’ve followed her advice.

“Give me that” he mumbles, taking the bag from her arms and placing it on the ground as he crouches down to be able to rumble through it more easily.

YN rolls her eyes at him but chooses to stay quiet; she knows Harry, and, despite him being the most bubbly and solar person to exist (in her opinion), when he’s annoyed, he’s annoyed, and she knows it’s better to let him sort through things as he wishes, without interfering with his thought process.

YN brings a hand to her face to shield her eyes from the sun, and she squints as she looks around. She has always loved his home here, and she remembers fondly the first time he’d brought her here: they’d driven from England to Italy in one of Harry’s vintage cars, only four months in their relationship, and despite the hot weather and the lack of air conditioning, she feels her heart warm when she remembers Harry opening up about his stepfather while they listened to his favorite CDs on the stereo. From that trip, their relationship could only grow fonder, and with it their visits to his house in Civita.

What YN loves most about the house is Harry’s choice of flowers adorning the outside walls, which he picked meticulously after buying the house.

Despite being almost 10 in the morning, there’s not many people around, because the village is small and mostly inhabited by elderly people, so thankfully, not many people know where Harry is currently, which gives them some time to rest in the hot July weather.

“Found them!” Harry exclaims, keys in hand, a sly smile adorning his features.

YN smiles back at him and waits for him to open the door when he’s back on his feet.

After Harry unlocks the door, he gestures for YN to go inside and open the blinds, claiming he’d take care of bringing their bags inside.

She walks across the small garden and when she reaches the front door, she unlocks it with the keys Harry gave her. As soon as she enters inside the house, she’s invested by the obnoxious smell closed spaces tend to have, and she hurries to open the windows and let some fresh air inside.

The house is the same as she remembers; the walls are decorated by colorful paintings and by some framed pictures Harry took of the beach at sunset, the kitchen is small but YN thinks it’s the perfect size for two people, a strawberry shaped ceramic dish is placed on top of the wooden dining table where she can’t wait to eat some fresh picked fruit in the morning with her boyfriend. In the living room, there’s two floor to ceilings windows, allowing the house to be always illuminated by natural light, overlooking the patio, where Harry decided to put a big wooden table where he usually likes to eat dinner, claiming it’s too hot to stay inside.

YN feels a pair of strong arms circling her waist and she squeals a little when Harry bites at her earlobe playfully, placing a soothing kiss on the skin after.

“What do you want to do first?” He asks her, and YN places her hands on his and squeezes them lovingly.

“I don’t know, what do you want to do?” She smiles, still overlooking the garden from her place on the window frame as Harry platters languid kisses all over her salty skin.

“Mmmh,” Harry mumbles in her neck, his curls tickling the skin of her jaw, “i may have a couple ideas”

YN giggles softly at his suggestion and Harry turns her around gently, his hand sneaking from her waist to her hips, squeezing at the plushy skin with his fingers. When she gets on her toes to plant a kiss against his lips, her sundress raises a little with the stretch of her arms around his neck, and Harry moves his hands down to cup her ass, pushing her against him. She moans in his mouth and Harry licks her lips with his tongue, pushing it inside after.

When they both start to feel dizzy from the lack of oxygen, Harry tears away from her lips to give her time to breathe, and with delicate fingers he pushes the straps of her sundress down her shoulders, her naked skin shining in the sun.

Harry plants a kiss against her collarbone and with sticky lips against her skin, he says: “let’s go inside”

“Help me tie it?” YN says, walking out of the bathroom with her bikini top dangling between her fingers. Harry nods and “Come here”, he says, stretching one of his arms to nudge at the back of her tights playfully.

“You come here!” She giggles, but with two strides she covers the distance between them and places herself between his slightly parted legs.

“Such an obedient puppy” he chuckles darkly, “turn around”

YN nods and does as he say, blushing a little at his choice of pet name — one he usually uses when he feels particularly soft.

She takes her hair in her hands and raises it above her head, allowing Harry to take the top and tie it first around her neck and then behind her back. When he’s done with both laces, he places a wet kiss against her shoulder and gives her bum a playful smack, chuckling when she lets out a squeal.

“All done”.

“Thank you” she turns around and, still smiling, she bends down to peck his lips. Harry raises both his hands to cup her face, holding her hair in place behind her ears.

When she feels Harry deepen the kiss she allows herself a minute to drown in his touch, but when he begins to palm her skin and push her closer to his body, she parts from his lips with a pop and whines when he tugs her down in his lap.

“Nooo” she whines childishly in his lap, “I want to go to the beach!”

Harry huffs against her lips, “I am your boyfriend!” He pouts, cupping her face once again and tugging her down against his mouth, “you’re supposed to love on me. I need kisses”.

YN giggles when he buries his face in her neck and his hair tickles the skin of her jaw, “needy baby”, she murmurs, tugging playfully at the roots of his curls.

“One more kiss and we’ll go” she says, splattering a kiss against his hair line.

Harry lets out another childish whine but nods his head nonetheless. He tilts his head back and puckers his lips, asking silently for a kiss. Yn smiles to herself and presses her lips against his in a long, wet kiss, and when Harry doesn’t make a move to part from her mouth, she pouts her lips and says, “I said…” but she’s interrupted by his lips closing hers in another affectionate kiss, “one!” She laughs when he kisses her another time.

“Fine” he breathes out, huffing. Yn gets off of his lap a little unwillingly and she stretches her hand in his direction, which he takes in his grasp.

“Let’s go to the beach!” She squeals, tugging him by his hand towards the door, happily.

Harry rolls his eyes at her playfully, a lazy smile adorning his feature. When they reach the living room, he picks up the cream Pleasing bag they previously filled with everything they’d need for the beach, and, car keys in one hand, bag in the other, he lets her tug him out of the house, excited to finally rest under the hot sun.

“Baby!” Harry shouts from inside the water, enough to make sure his voice would reach YN standing on the shore, her feet buried in the sand. When she looks up at him, he smiles at her and waves his arms “get in!”

She shakes her head, “no!” She exclaims, “It’s cold”

“C’mon” he says, dragging the end of the word to express his annoyance. He wanted her to get in. Of course, it was a little cold at first, but they’d been lying in the sun for hours, she needed some fresh water.

“Nooo” she repeated, placing her hands on her hips, “i’m not getting in!”

“Don’t make me come get you” he says, his brows pinched in a furrow.

“You wouldn’t” she laughs, and at her words, Harry starts walking toward the shore where she’s standing, his movements slowed by the water.

“No, Harry, please” she begs when he’s in front of her, looking at her seriously.

“I want you to get in” he affirms, placing his own hands on his hips this time.

When she shakes her head, his gaze softens and he looks at her with loving eyes, “please, baby get in”

YN takes a small step towards him, and Harry stretches an arm out, caressing delicately the skin of her waist with the tip of his fingers, leaving goosebumps behind his cold touch.

When she’s within arms reach, Harry circles her waist with his hands and picks her up, his arms falling down to her ass to hold her better.

“No!” She shouts, squealing in his hold, but that just makes him tighten his grip.

“Shh” he coos, walking back to where the water is deeper. Thankfully, the beach they chose wasn’t crowded, and paparazzi still hasn’t been notified of Harry’s whereabouts, so the couple could be able to enjoy the day as they wished without worrying about indiscreet eyes.

When they reach a deeper point, Harry shifts YN in his hold and picks her up from under her arms, throwing her in the water and submerging himself after.

When he comes back up for air, he still has his eyes closed when he feels splashes of water against his skin, and when he opens them, he has to shield his eyes with his hands to not let the salty water in.

“Stop! Stop!” He laughs, hands groping the water as he tries to make up from where YN is splashing him with her hands.

When she finally stops, he shakes his head to shake the water off of his hair, and he passes a hand on his face to get rid of the droplets of water.

“You’re such a brat!” He exclaims bewildered when his girlfriend is back in his sight.

“You are!” She pouts, swimming towards him, making sure to stomp her feet extra hard so the water splashes around them once again messily. When she reaches him, she throws her arms around his neck and her legs come up to wrap around his waist.

Harry splatters loud kisses against her wet cheek and she sighs happily in his hold, “the water is so nice”

He chuckles but agrees to not say anything, despite every muscle in his body is fighting against saying ‘i told you so’.

He squeezes her tighter against his body when he feels her shiver, his hand coming up to stroke at her back.

They soak in the water for sometime, swimming and kissing every once in a while, bashing in the feeling of the cold water against their warm skin.

When YN jumps in his hold again, he sees her lips a slight purple color and her teeth clattering, so, worried she might get too cold, he says “how about we get out?”

She pouts her lips, “but I love the water!”

“I know, but I’m cold” he lies, shrugging. He knows she’d never get out if it wasn’t for something concerning him.

“Okay” she nods immediately, pecking her cold lips against his.

“Thank you, water bug” he chuckles, squeezing her in his arms.

“Harry!” YN breaks the comfortable silence they were basking in, tucking her index finger inside the book she’s reading to mark the page when she closes it down on the towel.

Harry places his still open book down against his chest and looks at her with a questioning look from his position next to her, “Yes, baby?"

“We need to make a reservation for tonight!” She worries, stretching her torso so she could grab his cellphone resting on the towel beside Harry.

“I’ll do it now” he nods, picking the phone from her grasp and unlocking it with the code — he doesn’t use face id, and despite YN having told him many times it would just make his life easier, he claims he couldn’t be bothered to set it up and he honestly doesn’t know how to.

YN shifts to position her body from laying on her tummy to laying on her side, propping her elbow up so she could hold her head with her palm. She looks intently at Harry when he places the phone to his ear, mouthing to her that the line is ringing.

“Ciao” Harry says, “posso… posso prenotare un tavolo per stasera? Alle 20” YN raises from her position and sits with her legs crossed on the towel, watching down at Harry as he nods his head when the other person talks on the other side of the line, and he gives her a reassuring smile that everything is going okay, because, despite knowing he probably asked for a dinner reservation, she isn’t sure what he exactly said.

“Si… si… due persone” he nods, “alle otto” he repeats.

“Grazie mille… ciao”

“All done, they’re waiting for us at around eight” he tells her, putting the phone back on the towel beside him.

“How are you so amazing at everything that you do?” She asks, her eyes wide and soft.

Harry raises his gaze to meet hers, and when he takes in the bewildered look on her face, he erupts in a loud laugh, squeezing his eyes and opening his mouth, his two bunny teeth appearing.

“It’s not funny” she pouts, pinching her eyebrows.

When he’s calmed down, he raises his torso a bit, enough to be able to circle her shoulders with his arms and he tugs her down to his chest, plastering sweet kisses all over her salty hair.

“I love you so much” he smiles, lips still buried in her hair.

It’s later in the day now, and after basking in the sun all day, YN and Harry decided to head back home to start getting ready for their dinner in Rome.

Harry has a vinyl playing one of his favorite Italian artists, Rino Gaetano, and YN, despite not knowing the words, sways her body to the melody as she does her makeup in the bathroom, still in her towel, while Harry hums the words from under the shower.

The house is quiet and warm, the only sound being Harry’s voice mixing with the Italian singer's, and the cicadas singing from outside the garden, and YN wishes this day could go on forever and never end. She waits all winter for this exact moment, being so content with her boyfriend she doesn’t feel like doing anything in particular, her skin red from the sun and still salty despite the shower, her hair falling in waves down her back.

When Harry gets out of the bathroom, he’s wearing only his boxers, his skin is golden and tanned, making his tattoos even more noticeable and dark. YN is standing before her suitcase, trying to decide what to wear, and Harry walks slowly to her, swaying his hips playfully to the music with his mouth open showing his teeth in a sly smile.

“What are you doing?” She laughs when he takes her hand in his and tugs her up from her crouched position on the floor.

“Wanna dance a bit” he mumbles, making her do a spin in front of him and then tugging her back in his arms, against his chest.

They’re not properly dancing, just moving their embraced bodies to the music, but YN relaxes in his hold and lets him guide her. Before Harry, it used to take her a lot to be this carefree, she’d usually feel embarrassment when dancing or having fun in general, but since she met him, everything came easy to her, because she knew he’d never judge her, and she could let herself be playful without worrying about looking cringe-y.

“Può crescere un fiore da questo mio amore per teee…” Harry sings loudly, swaying their bodies from side to side to the rhythm of the catchy music.

“What does that mean?” She asks, curiously.

“He’s saying that a flower could blossom with all the love he has for his lover” he says softly, looking directly in her eyes. YN feels her heart clench in her chest with his words, and she wishes she understood the song enough to dedicate it to him.

Once the song ends, he takes her faces in both his hands and platters kisses all across her skin; first her cheeks, then the side of her mouth, then between her eyes, her closed eyelids, her forehead… and only after, he kisses her lips, harshly pushing his mouth against hers.

She loves when he’s like this. Sure, he’s affectionate always, especially behind closed doors, but there’s something about him when he’s rested that makes her insides all warm.

“We should get ready” she murmurs against his lips.

He nods his head, gives her another brief kiss, and parts from her mouth, walking to his bag to pick something to wear.

“This or this?” She asks Harry after a while, holding out two dresses before her, one is definitely more elegant, strapless and black, that ends around her mid tight, the other is more a sundress type of dress, midi length, white with small pink flowers and a heart shaped neckline.

Harry points to the white one and says, “i love that one”

She nods and goes along with his advice, tossing the black one back in her suitcase.

Once they’re both dressed, Harry wearing a colorful crochet shirt and some tailored grey pants, they make their way out the front door, locking the door behind them.

Harry unlocks the car door with his key and gets in first, then, he leans over the passenger seat to open the door for her from the inside, and YN gets in the passenger seat of the convertible Alfa Romeo.

When Harry starts the car, the engine roars and he puts the car’s gear in reverse, he places a hand on his girlfriends head rest and stretches his torso to look better behind them.

The drive to Rome is about an hour long, but the landscape makes the drive much more bearable. YN gets lost in the purple and orange colors the sky is turning, and she points every once in a while something for Harry to look at (“Harry, look at that bird!”, “oh my god are those men fishing?”).

The convertible car allows the wind to fly through her hair, and she breathes in the salty air coming from the beach, the sun a bright orange, almost disappearing in the water, and turning the water shiny in his wake.

Harry, sitting next to her, driving, shifts his gaze whenever she calls out to him, following her pointed finger with his eyes, lovingly, amazed by the way she perceives things.

“It’s so beautiful” she sighs dreamily, overwhelmed by the scenery developing before her eyes.

“Yeah… so beautiful” he whispers, but he isn’t looking out of the car, he’s looking right at her in the passenger seat, her hair messy from the wind and her cheeks and nose red from the sun.

When she turns her head to look at him, he’s turned his head toward the road, but she swore she could’ve felt his eyes on her when she was distracted by looking outside.

She doesn’t say anything, relaxing against her seat and stretching one hand out of the window, her fingers caressing the wind and spreading open with its force.

“How do you say ‘i love you’ in Italian?” She says after a while, turning her head to him with a mischievous smile spread across her face.

“Si dice… ti amo” he smiles to himself, his voice changing a bit with the switch to another language.

“Ti amo?” She repeats, and he nods eagerly at her question.

YN brings her hands to cup her mouth and, “Ti amo!!!” She shouts, her cupped hands amplifying her voice.

“Harry, ti amo” she repeats, laughing loudly at her own words and the feel of them on her tongue. She’s said I love you to him many times, but shouting it to the empty road before them, gives her a sort of unknown power she adores the feeling of.

“Say it again” he says, turning his head to her once they reach a stop.

“Ti amo” she giggles, and Harry cups her face with his hands and places a kiss against her lips.

“I love you too” he nods against her mouth, “i love you, I love you, I love you” he says between kisses, and he feels drunk despite being sober. Drunk with her vanilla scent, drunk with all the love he feels for her. Because with YN, he doesn’t have to be in Italy to love her. He’d love her everywhere. And he thinks about all the flowers in the world that blossomed with all the love he has for her.

#harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harrystyles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles masterlist #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader

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