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daenysthedreamersblog · 3 months

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STRANGERS III - 'THANK YOU MR. PRESIDENT, SIR'

I’m happier here cause he told me i should be

You’re so handsome when i’m all over your mouth

part one & two here

summary: you hate president snow, hate him and his stupid ugly roses, but he might be the only one who can save you from the man buying your virtue.

pairing: president!snow x district6!reader

warnings: MDNI!! swearing, slapping, choking, manipulation/coercion, power imbalance, slight dubcon, smut, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, p in v sex, oral sex, fingering, BLOOD!, slight somophilia, breeding kink, let me know if i forgot anything!

notes: alexa play 'stockholm syndrome' by one direction. (jk strangers by ethel cain)

He didn't come at night, nor the rest of the week. He left you alone in the large guest room to sit frightened in a queen size bed. After a few days you walked the grounds, the gardens and greenhouse once more, no sign you had ever been in there. You walked around his large empty home, no children, no wife. So quiet. Except for the servants flittering through occasionally.

You assumed he had finally forgotten about you, time had moved on and so had he.

Until the stylist came.

You were crying before they even started working on you knowing what this meant. Knowing what was awaiting you downstairs.

"It will be over quickly my dear," They hushed you trying to put the makeup on. "Just hush no-!"

"Just get her a damn drink!" The other snapped.

Soon enough a small glass appeared in front of you with brown liquid filling half the cup. You drained it peering up at them with blurry eyes and burning lungs, "Will it hurt?” You knew it would, you were stalling.

She smiled, it was fake. "No." A lie. You only held out your glass for them to fill finally letting them prepare you for slaughter. They allowed you one more drink before getting you ready

It was another white floor length gown. Thin straps covered your shoulders, the skirt was covered in a sheer tulle material littered with white roses. They had done your hair up stray pieces falling prettily across your face. A neutral shade on your lids, a pretty pink gloss on your lips. They sprayed a heavy scented perfume across your body, spread some sort of glitter onto parts of you skin.

No underwear. They had refused to let you put them on per the president's orders.

"Tigris." You pleaded. "Where is she? May I see her before you take me?" She wanted to help you before, maybe not enough, but she had tried to talk to him.

They shared a look, the middle one speaking, "She's not allowed to work on you anymore." Your heart sank.

Then they were walking you out of the room.

You wondered who would be punished if you fought back, if the peacekeepers would gun you down as you sprinted across his lawn. You dug your nails into your palms as they walked you to the dinning room basically pushing you through the door. You stumbled slightly inside catching yourself on the large door before glancing up. He was slightly upset, but his eyes softened just a little when they took you in. His picture of innocence and beauty, his perfect white rose in a thorny garden.

He looked handsome, beautiful even in a deep red suit, white rose pinned to the front. His perfect blond hair sat styled atop his head, no stray piece in sight, piercing blue eyes gazing down to your morrow. He sat straight, commanding the room simply by existing in it. Your heart thumped roughly as if you were staring at a saving grace and you longed to be near him if only to stay away from the other man in the room.

Your buyer was smiling at you once you took your seat. The room was larger than the other, a long table stretched out filled with empty plate settings and various floral arrangements (mostly hideous white roses that filled the room with their stench). A large chandelier and various wall lights illuminated the room in a warm glow. "You look exquisite." The man held up his glass.

You smiled gently raising your own glass and downing it. You expected to be reprimanded, but maybe they thought it best if you were wasted and willing. Did Snow tell him? No that would ruin the image he was trying to present to his bidders. You held out your glass for a refill.

Dinner was four courses and once again no body spoke to you thankfully. They let you drown in you cups as they spoke about politics, the games, the animals in the districts. Music was playing softly in the background and you drowned them out while pushing food around your plate.

"Eat." Snow's voice cut through your dissociating. It was the third course and you were already borderline stuffed opting to fill yourself with wine instead of substance and you were consuming more than normal not feeling the effects of it just yet. You opened your mouth to explain, but he narrowed his eyes at you.

So, you ate. The man chuckled, "You've got that one trained well Snow."

Snow chuckled as well, "I can't take all the credit, she came that way." Like you had arrived in a crate just for him.

He glanced across at you, “How did you learn those manners out in 6?”

You looked at Snow, then back to the man, setting your utensils down to let your hands fall in your lap. “My parents.” He furrowed his brows at you. You forget sometimes, how lowly they viewed people from the districts, how confusing it must be to learn they aren’t all savages…for the most part. “My grandfather ran a tight ship, so did my father.” It was the simplest form of the story.

“Hmm.” He chewed on his food, swallowed, and spoke again. “And your father? What does he do?”

You fought the quivering sigh, “He's a mechanic of sorts, helps put together anything that comes back broken or malfunctioning.”

The man chuckled, “And he likes what he does?”

“I think so,” Your face burned feeling as if he was mocking you somehow, looking down at you.

He only smirked swirling around his drink as his attention turned to President Snow, “I heard they have a huge morphling problem out in 6.” You knew that, had seen it when you turned down a wrong street. You stopped listening as the conversation turned away from you. You missed your father, missed the smell of oil on him when he came home, missed how he used to put you on his shoulder when you were little to see the hovercrafts take off. You were forgetting that smell, smoke and oil that coated the air sometimes, now the air sat thick with the scent of roses.

That life was gone now, killed in the arena.

You drank more, you forced yourself to eat to avoid them talking to you anymore and when the man had thrown his napkin down letting you know the dinner was finished you wanted to puke everything up again.

You had your hands folded in my lap picking at your cuticles until pain pricked, blood blossoming up like a rose. You brought it to your mouth hearing Snow's chair screech backwards, "If I may?" He held out his hand for you which you took greedily, “How does a nightcap sound.” He wasn’t talking to you.

“Always Snow.” So informal. “What’s mine is yours.” He joked standing up to follow as Snow led the three of you wherever he wanted to go.

You glanced up at him, and he met you half-way with a sidelong stare. You wanted to beg him, plead with him to not go through with this. You hoped he could see the worry in your eyes, but he looked away. He stopped at a door down the hall pushing it open and pulling you inside. It seemed to be an office or study. A large dark wooden desk, books lining shelves against one wall, a small hearth, two armchairs and small table between them with a love-seat across it, and a makeshift bar with various colored liquor in glass decanters.

He sat you on the elegant love seat and went to the bar. You sat up straight, sucking the blood off your finger again before it got on your dress as you watched the man take up one of the armchair seats. He handed the man a drink, one in his hand, and sat down next to you. He didn’t give an explanation to why you didn’t get one, probably thought it best after drinking so much through dinner despite the fact you felt completely sober. You blamed all the food he forced you to eat.

“She’s not going to kill me once we’re alone right?” The man lowered his voice as if you weren't in the room.

“No,” Snow chuckled. “She’s completely docile.” He reached over to grab your hand. “Would you like me to be in the room just in case?” You involuntarily squeezed his hand feeling his thumb caress your knuckles in response.

The man shook his head unaware of the movement. “That’s alright. Will there be ways to…subdue her if it comes to it?”

“Yes of course,” Snow smiled. You body went cold. “I’ve prepared a room for the two of you…with supplies, and we’ll have guards close by.” You glanced at the man watching you, finding solace in Snow's warmth radiating onto you.

He seemed suspicious of you, “Are you sure she’s a virgin?”

“Yes.” You wanted cry out that you weren’t just to make him leave. But then he may find someone worse, someone perhaps crueler than this man could be. Snow had promised to pick out someone you would like, but you weren’t sure what the criteria had truly been. You didn’t realize you were crying until water landed on your wrist.

"Please don't let him do this to me." You whispered.

Snow’s blue eyes met yours satisfied with your emotions, and then he reached out to stroke a palm down your cheek. You nearly leaned into the touch if it meant you could get away from another, “She’s a good girl.” He looked at the man, “She’ll behave.” Blood ran down your finger from the small cut and he brought it up to his mouth sucking it slightly, “Isn’t that right?”

The man set down his glass loudly. “Well, thank you for the lovely meal President Snow.” He was standing up, and you were gripping Snow’s hand even tighter.

He shook it off, patted your thigh, and stood up as well. “A toast first, for a wonderful evening, and another successful game.” He walked passed the man, who was looking at you, while you stared after Snow. Your heart was thumping loudly in your throat, bile rising with each short breath.

His back went straighter as he glanced over his shoulder at you, his eyes narrowed in on your face, at the water welled in your eyes, at the blood still slowly dripping from the tip of your finger. Then he turned back to pour the drinks. He handed one to the man, "To victory." He clinked their glasses watching with dark eyes over the rim of his glass as they drank.

The man took a deep breath as he finished and handed his glass back offering Snow a polite smile, "I think we will retire for the rest of the night.”

“Of course,” Snow nodded. He motioned to the door, “Your room is right down the hall.”

The man’s hand wrapped around your bicep. "Please." You begged. "Please Mr. President!" He only watched you with cold eyes. "I'll be good! I'll be good for you!” Your buyer gripped you harder, dragging you away a litter rougher this time. You stumbled over your shoes, the dress, feeling him grapple with you to keep moving.

“Behave,” He hissed. “Like he told you.”

You wrangled within his grip. What had Tigris called him that day, what did she say; you squeezed your eyes trying to remember, losing your footing completely and letting the man drag you through the door.

He's possessive.

Your eyes snapped open meeting his, "Coriolanus." The room stopped moving, nobody breathed as your eyes widened with the plea, as your other hand outstretched for him. "I'm your good girl, don't let him take me from you."

The door closed in your face as he dragged you down the hall. It was quiet now all you could hear were your ragged breaths, his grunts as he dragged your fighting body to the room. He pushed open the door and you realized they truly had set it up so nicely for him. There were candles and atrocious red rose petals, a white silk nightgown to put you in if he wished. “Put it on.” His voice was cold and distant. You stared at him watching him glance up and down at you, and then he sighed. “I paid a lot of money for you. Don’t make me hurt you.”

You shook your head.

He shoved you onto the bed. “You’re so fucking sweet to him.” He began to unbuckle his belt. “Probably lap him up like he's sweet fucking cream.” This was it, you thought for a second staring at the ceiling. Then you fought back. You clawed at him feeling his skin breaking, you bit and kicked as he rustled with the skirt of your dress until you slashed him across the face with sharp painted nails. “Ugh!" He groaned gripping his bleeding face. “Do I have to fucking go get him so you stop fighting me!” You stilled, giving yourself away completely, and he straightened on top of you. “He’s a fucking liar.” His eyes grew vicious. “And you’re a fucking whore! I knew it, I thought I saw something strange going on. He’s fucking you isn’t he? Isn’t he!” He slapped you across the face, your head snapping to the side, cheek stinging with the blow. “You probably want him to come in, save you, con me out of my money.” He pinned down your hands as he pushed up your dress. “Tell him I want it back. I paid for a virgin, not his slut.”

One moment he was planting himself between your legs, the next, blood dripped onto your face. One drop, then a splatter as his nose leaked red liquid. He reached up to touch it, confused, and then he collapsed on top of you. He wasn't breathing, he wasn't moving, dead weight atop of you. Your hands were up, too shocked to scream out for someone, too confused at the dead man lying on top of you.

Weight was soon lifted off of you and a loud thud hit the floor, but you couldn't look, couldn't look as you heard them dragging his body out of the room. You couldn't look at anything but the space above you until he was hovering over you a sly smirk on his lips, "You are full of surprises bluebell.” He scooped you in his arms and carried you away from the room. You knew you were shaking, you knew you should be scared as he walked with you away, alone. He walked you up a set of stairs and down a long hallway finally opening up a door to set you on your feet.

He closed the door, locked you in with him.

"Did you mean it?" He whispered, his voice husky. "That you'll be good for me." Your mouth dried, but what did you expect when he came rushing into that room. It wasn't because he cared; it was because someone was touching his property. "That you don't want anyone to take you away from me.” Your eyes went wild, that wasn’t exactly what you had said. “You wanted me to save you, I saw it in your eyes. You wanted me, not him. You squeezed my hand. You begged me, and I saved you.”

You slowly looked up at him. “Did you kill him.”

He came closer, "You think I would really let him take what's mine.” His hand came around you, fingers pulling down the zipper of your dress. "You cried out for me that night. Screamed my name as I made you come over, and over, and over, and over again. Your pussy adores me, needs me, sucks me in like its starving, to be filled, be claimed." He smiled down at you, "It's mine, you're mine. You belong to me…and deep down you like that.”

You couldn’t look away from his face, "I didn't know your name."

But you did. Tigris had shot it through the room like a stray bullet when he forced himself on you. It ingrained into your subconscious and when he was fucking you with his tongue it had fell off your lips like sweet honey. Then you had called it out tonight…

Your body seemed to warm at the memory as you tumbled right into his awaiting palm. “Kiss me.” He whispered. He pushed the sleeves of the dress off your shoulders, not letting it move further. You did. It fell to the floor in a heap leaving you bare in front of him. His hand trailed down your naked body lightly tracing the curve of your spine to the top of your ass his hand splaying to grip the whole thing. “Kiss me.” His mouth lingered over yours a slight smile to it, "I know you want to, you like when I kiss you, you get so wet when we kiss." Your brows furrowed because no that wasn't true; unless that was what was sliding down your naked thigh. He grabbed your face opening you up for him to consume. His tongue fought yours, easily winning as one hand came up to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple; you shivered, leaning into the touch. "You will listen, you will obey." He said walking you backwards to the bed. ”You will let me fuck you.” He lowered you onto the bed. He hovered over you sliding his mouth along yours, licking into your mouth, kneading your breast, biting down on your lip.

He stared down at you patiently awaiting your answer, as if he even cared what it was…maybe he did. But your shocked body ached for him to consume it, and was there really ever a version out there where you got to tell him no?

"Okay.”

He trailed across your face nipping at your jaw harshly, you winced. "I didn't let them serve you tonight." He sat up tugging off his suit jacket, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. "I had them switch it out for sparkling grace juice. I wanted you sober for this.” He pulled his shirt off revealing a toned muscled chest glistening with sweat.

You couldn’t help but stare at him for a moment, stare at his perfect naked skin. “You planned it all.”

“Of course I did.” He scoffed. "I told you I would choose someone you liked." And he believed that to be himself. He bent back down sinking his teeth into your collarbone tongue lolling against your skin. His mouth slid along your breast, sucking in your nipple, rolling his tongue along it. “And you are so wet by it.” You had ignored the slickness forming between your thighs all night, ignored how you had been rubbing them together under the table the more he looked at you. He reached his hand back, running his fingers between your folds, gathering the wetness up in his own hand and bringing it back to his face, "My dirty little white rose." He rammed his hand into your face smearing your own arousal around the tangy taste seeping into your mouth. Then he was dipping back into you, stretching you open with two fingers as he straddled your stomach. "You take it so well. You just let me do whatever I want to you hmm?" He curled his fingers and your face burned as you chewed on your lip. "You like it too, you fucking love when I make you cum." You squeezed your eyes as he stroked the sweetest spot inside of you, fighting down the agreement boiling in your lungs.

But your body remembered, and it was slowly tilting your hips to meet each brutal thrust of his hand. You tried to focus on anything other than how good his fingers felt inside of you, how the pressure was tightening in your stomach, how your skin was blazing in the wake of his touch. It didn't matter how hard you clenched your jaw, the second his thumb pressed down on your clit you let out the softest moan. You felt his hips grind against you at the noise his hard cock digging into your stomach, his fingers pinching your nipple then running it between them. It was cruel, truly, for him to make you feel such decadent things. To have this power over you, but then again, he always had. You were reaching for him, or trying to push him out, you weren't sure anymore but your nails were clutching his arm for dear life as the pleasure washed over you. You clamped down on his hand cumming for him like the savior he was with the tiniest whimper. He kept going, moving his hand harder, moving backwards to dive down and wrapping his mouth around your clit. It was too much, your vision blurred. You were shoving at him harder, "It's too much."

He pressed you into the mattress tongue swirling around you clit, and you couldn't move, couldn't see anything but stars and feel his mouth suck you clit in. Your stomach curled in on itself the second orgasm building too fast feet digging into his sides as tongue deftly moved along your over sensitive bud. You cried out that time as you came hand tangled in his blond hair unknowingly. "That's my girl." He smiled down at you, chin shinning with your pleasure. "That's how I know you like it."

You clamped your legs closed once he moved. He tried to pry them apart as your hands came slashing down at him, pushing at him to get off of you, to stop before he did something you knew you couldn’t come back from. "Open your legs." He growled fingers digging into your thighs so hard you felt skin busting apart. He was on top of you shoving his knee between your legs grabbing both your hands to hold them above your head. “You're mine.” He spoke so gently, so matter-of-factly, you were starting to believe him as a tear slid down your cheek. “You wanted me, remember?” Your teeth tugged at your lip. “It will feel good." You knew that. It was exactly why you wanted to stop him. “Kiss me.” He was leaning down, pressing his lips to yours sliding his tongue along your bottom lip, breaking your resolve. He was undoing his pants, and you let him slowly open your legs, let him slid between them. “That’s my good girl.” He smiled into your mouth and pushed into you.

The pain was blinding no matter how wet he had made you. He split you in two as he pushed inside of you inch by excruciating inch. You screamed so loud as every fabric of muscle broke open between your legs. You felt warmth rush between your thighs, the breath you tried to take cracking open your chest. He moved so slow, trying to move further inside your tight walls as they clamped around him. He was still for a moment enjoying the feeling of you wrapped around him, or maybe it was a shred of kindness preventing any more pain. All you knew is his eyes were squeezed shut, broken pants expelling from his mouth, his hand resting on your shoulder digging in so hard it almost distracted you from the throbbing agony where your bodies were connected.

You almost took a second to admire him, between the intensity, but then he bottomed out inside of you.

"Oh." A breathless word.

Your pussy fluttered around him and he shuddered, "Fuck."

Then he pulled back slightly, pulled back until you almost felt relief that he was out, only to slam back into you. You grunted as your vision went away, white the only thing you could see as he did it again, and again, and again. His hand fell off your wrist needing to grip your waist as he pressed his forehead to yours, lips capturing every small force of air he shoved out of your mouth. "You're so fucking tight." He groaned his other hand on your shoulder pushing himself deeper. You felt him in your guts abusing your cervix with quickened thrust. You weren’t sure what you were feeling, broken sobs leaving your throat, there was pain, but there was something else too, something that was turning the sobs into moans. "I can feel your pussy clenching around me, can feel you getting wetter by the second." He bared his teeth against yours letting you gasp out into his mouth. "Be my good little whore and enjoy what I'm giving you.” He leaned up and back slowing slightly, and it gave you a moment to glance up at him. Sweat coated his forehead a blond curl across it as he watched where his cock disappeared inside of you, fascinated as you sucked him in greedily. His hips slapped against yours, lewd noises resonating around his bedroom each time he rammed in and out of your drenched cunt. His tongue swiped across his parted lips as the pain ebbed away completely replaced by horrible pleasure.

You ground your teeth, you fisted the sheets, you did everything but let him know what you were beginning to feel.

His hand slithered down between your legs and he danced delicate motions against your clit. You shook with a whimper the fire shooting down your body, your toes curling with it. "Cum around my cock." He whispered his thrust slow and deep letting you feel every thick inch of him. Your back was arching, the feeling tightening in your stomach, and a throaty groan slipped out. "It feels good doesn't it? You like that I fucked you, wanted me to fuck you all through that stupid dinner, you were so wet knowing it was always going to be me at the end of the night.” He began to move faster again, his hand working your clit harder and you squeezed your eyes tight. “This pussy has always belonged to me; it will always be mine.” He slapped you across the face head snapping to the side fucking into you, pressing against your clit. “Look at me.” He growled, forcing your face towards him as your eyes shot open, "Look at me when you cum.”

You gripped him hard body shaking with the orgasm that rocked through, your vision blurry with blue eyes. Your body clamped down around him, gushed around him as it crashed over you and pulled you under. He was hovering over you tucking his arm under your shoulder his mouth at your ear his grunts seeming to drive your legs further apart for him, wetness sucking him in more. You were whimpering his name against his moist throat, open mouthed kisses planted after each breath as you squeezed around him. His body tightened and he spilled inside of you, you should have stopped him, told him not to cum inside, but he would have done it anyways. He lay there for a moment only thrusting a little to push his seed deeper.

He pulled back slightly as you blinked up at him. You stared at each other for a while as his cock twitched one last time. Then he pulled out of you and climbed off the bed. "Don't move." He left you there, closing the door behind him. You felt dizzy with confusing feelings, legs shaking, his cum oozing out of you. You fought the sickening urge to push it back inside you to not feel so empty.

But you laid there, waiting for him to come back to you. He did. He sat you up and pulled the white satin nightgown over your head only to lay you back down. Thank him, even when you're not thankful. "Thank you Mr. President sir."

He laid down beside you, wrapped his arms around your body, and pulled you in tight so you couldn't let go. "Mhm," He purred in you ear. "So good to me, my darling bluebell."

You cried yourself to sleep in his arms.

You were moving, pushed and pulled like a soft tide, knew pleasure floated through your bones ebbing, flowing out of you. You rolled your head, feeling your leg lifted, feeling pressure between them. Your eyelids were so heavy, sleep trying to tug you back under but it was so warm, it felt so good.

You heard the whine leave your mouth as warmth surrounded you, as it moved between your legs. Your eyes shot open wildly staring out into the darkness truly unsure of reality. You glance down, not being able to see all that well, but its him. You know its him by how your body arches for him, as hands find his hair. His tongue rolls over your clit, flicking at it as you whimper out for him pulling your legs up and out so he can take more of you.

A dream then, you figured, as his tongue dipped inside you. You open your mouth to try to warn him of his own cum leaking out of you, but he doesn't care as he feast on you, lapping it up along with your arousal, his tongue so deep inside you, you sigh out while he fucks you with his tongue yanking your legs tighter around his shoulders. He's licking up the center sucking gently on your clit, his tongue tracing it as a faster pace and your head falls back. You barely even make a sound as you cum, as you gush against his face pussy clenching around nothing.

He's moving, the bed shifts as he moves closer rolling your body to the side forcing into you, sliding in to the hilt as your body demands him to fill you. He's somehow all around, engulfing you, his thick cock pushing in deeply as his teeth dig into your skin. You mumbled his name trying to turn. He had your body twisted so he could shove inside you, his face moving to lavish your breast.

"Go back to sleep," He muttered kissing your side, his cock sliding within you at a gentle pace, like he had all the time in the world, like he had hours. He lazily licked at your nipple, swirling his tongue around it, sucking it softly, grazing it with his teeth. A quiet whine floated into the air your head falling back against the pillow. You were too drowsy, too spent to feel anything other than what he was giving you, so your mind gave up fighting your body. Letting him open you up more, feel him envelope you as he rolled his hips against you like you were the whore he had called you earlier. "That's my girl," He muttered onto your skin, teeth ghosting over your flesh. His cock was rubbing against a sweet spot inside of you as you turned towards him your lips parting against his face, back arching to take him deeper. It was slow, purposeful, each thrust lighting a low burning fire in your veins. You let him kiss your neck, let him suck on your flesh, his presence intoxicating you, soon finding your hand tangled in his hair.

And then he looked down at you, noses touching in the dark, and maybe it was the proximity, but you could see his eyes. You brushed your lips against his, "Yours." It slipped out between the heated exchanged and sealed in your fate.

His eyes blew out and he leaned down to kiss you. You can smell yourself on his breath, smell his cum mixed in it all and you want it in your mouth, the taste of him too delicious. You finally kissed him back, running your tongue along his mouth tasting him, tasting the whiskey he had drank earlier, your arousal and his cum, the sweat on his top lip. His hand slithered down your body, languidly rubbing your clit the pleasure tingling down your legs. You moaned in his mouth, moaned his name into the air as he fucked you deeper, fucked you harder, claimed whatever pieces of you he wanted. "Mine." He grunted out back down your throat. "Mine. Mine. Mine."

You came hard, whimpering against him, fisting his hair, feeling him cum deep inside not long after. You didn't care this time, didn't mind the heavy warmth that coated your walls. Not as it filled some void he had carved out earlier.

You fall back asleep with him still inside you, like you had never woken up in the first place.

You woke up alone, body sore and spread out across his king sized bed sheets, blankets rumpled and draped over you. Everything ached, your hips and thighs, your neck and shoulders, your breast...your...your...You squeezed your eyes remembering, remembering how his cock had broke through you, how he hadn't stopped after the first time, but took you time and time again during the night until you were more full of him than yourself. He was never satiated, an inherent hunger prowling under his skin demanding to consume every piece of you.

And you had kissed him. You had whined out for him, held him closer, sighed his name like a prayer. You forced yourself up running hands over your face trying to erase the memory, trying to erase how well your body took him. You threw the sheets off shakily climbing off the bed the nightgown falling on your tacky middle thigh, and then you turned to glance at the bed.

You threw up onto the floor.

The bed, white sheets and all were covered in blood. You looked down. Your legs were covered in blood, and dried cum, and other fluids. You had rolled every time he took you, as he changed the positions he wanted you in, smearing all that blood across the bed, across your body.

He had plucked it from you, seed after seed, and left you in his bed like a half-eaten pomegranate waiting for him to resume feasting. He had been born hungry, he will always be hungry.

You left his room. You padded away from it bare, sticky feet slapping against the hardwood floor as you kept walking. Your brain felt empty thoughts not making sense. His bedroom looked like a crime scene; you lying in, the sacrificial lamb at a slaughter.

You hated him.

He was awful, he had forced you into those games to kill, to die, to punish the districts. He had planned to sell you.

He didn't. He hadn't. And now blood ran from your maidenhead, a fountain for his youth, and all you could remember was how good it had felt, how he had fit inside you so perfectly it had never really hurt in the first place. Or maybe history had rewritten itself across the cosmos.

Fresh air hit you as you flung open the doors, sun blinding your face so you simply kept your eyes close letting whatever force commanding you to lead you, until the scent of roses floated into your nostrils.

The garden. The enormous ugly place filled to the brim with ugly white roses. It felt too pure, too clean to be here, like you had invaded Eden and the snake slithered between your thighs. You just stood there staring at a row of blooming flowers letting the horrid smell engulf you.

You couldn't help but think of him, his hair falling out of place, bouncing off his forehead as he thrust into you. You thought of the sweat dripping off his face, plopping onto your parted lips, you despised how good it tasted when it trickled onto your tongue. You thought of the heat in your cheeks when he whispered sweet, vulgar nothings into your ear, how it made you curl your toes.

You thought of how despite your hatred and disgust at him you moaned for him nonetheless.

The flowers didn't smell so awful anymore.

Time passed, you let it, standing there in a thin bloody nightgown and bare feet.

The door creaked open finally and shut behind him. You knew it was him from the shiver that danced down your spine, to the nauseating flip of your stomach as if your subconscious was glad he was there, as if it desired his presence.

A large hand brushed down your arm, "You should stay in bed." You focused on the light splitting through the windows golden and beautiful as he moved your matted hair off your shoulder to press a kiss to bare skin. You winced, the bruises and bites too tender. "Come now, bluebell." He smiled against your neck, "Let me take you back to bed."

"You were gone." It shouldn't have sounded so desperate, so whiny, like you genuinely wanted him there.

He chuckled, "I'm the President sweet girl. I can't be expected to lie in bed fucking you all day."

You were next to your father a large smile on your face as you watched them announced young President Snow. You had gathered in the square to watch it with the rest of your community. They spoke about how the districts were going to do so much better under his authority, how both the districts and Capitol would profit significantly with him taking over. You remember your father being hopeful, maybe a young man like him would bring good change.

"Is that what you wanted?" He planted the kiss under your ear goosebumps erupting over cool flesh. "To wake up again with my cock buried inside of you." He nipped at the shell of your ear, "Or feasting on your cunt." His hardness was pressing into the thin fabric of your nightgown as your body went taut in his arms.

You turned to face him. His eyes were so bright as the sun reflected off of them, and you held back the automatic yes on your tongue. Your gaze flickered around his face trying to read him, understand him even, but it was impossible. He was the President, and you were a victor, and those worlds should have never collided. Yet here you both were creating a black hole in the universe at your entwining.

He moved for you slowly.

You felt frozen feeling him wrap his arm around your body to begin walking back towards the house, numb as servants open the doors for the two of you so he could lead you back to your cage. It wasn't for concern or safety, he would tie you to his bed simply to know you would always be there.

The room had been cleaned by time you reached it, no evidence in sight, besides the blood and cum caked onto your thighs. He tugged at you walking you to the bathing room connected to his, "You scared the servants." He chuckled as he went to the tub and turned it on.

"I'm sorry." It slipped out, a trained response and your eyes fluttered close.

He filled the water with sweet smelling salts and came back towards you tugging your nightgown off your body. You glanced in the mirror at the red hand prints stained into the flesh of your breasts, your neck. You were more wounds than skin, littered with teeth indents, scratches, hickies. "Come here." You did, as steam began to replace the image. You let him help you into the warm water and sank down into it, biting back the sound of pleasure as it soothed every piece of you that was broken and sore. He leaned your head back dipping your tangled hair into the water. "Mhm," He mused sliding his hands along your wet body claiming he was wanting to wash you.

"It feels nice." You whispered his forehead pressed to your shoulder as his hands traveled along your stomach. It shouldn't feel nice, but it did, his gentle hands swimming across your sensitive body.

He didn't respond, but he let go and stood, the sounds of his clothing dropping echoing in the room. You jumped at the sound hoping he wouldn't take you in this tub, praying to whatever god you believed in, and you thought it sounded too close to his name. You knew your body was too sore to handle it, knew you would melt into his palms if he did. He climbed in behind you, his legs sliding along yours, his chest pressed to your back wet hair plastered between bodies. "You enjoyed last night." His hands floated over your legs removing the last remaining evidence of the encounter. You weren't sure if he was asking or telling. His lips ghosted over your shoulders.

"Why me?" You blinked out a tear.

His smile scorched your skin. "You were so pretty when you cried at the reaping." Another tear as you took a sharp breath, all of this because of your pain. It didn't seem like a good enough response for you, there had to me more of a reason why he took it this far. His mouth parted, "I starved him out, sent all his gifts to you, so when I did send something in, something to weaken him, he would eat it." It shouldn't have been so easy to take him down, you always knew that, chalked it up to luck or the element of surprise. The only thing he had managed to do was slice your leg open the scar still plagued on your skin. He did look sickly before his own blood coated his face. Maybe he had been begging to end his life, maybe whatever they gave him was hurting.

Please.

Your vision was blurry, eyes darting back and forth. "You helped me win."

"I saved you, bluebell." He caressed a hand down the center of your chest, where you had plunged that knife, and another tear slipped out. "You should be glad." A thumb stroke, "You should be grateful."

"He's possessive. His obsession can drive him mad sometimes."

It all made sense now in your head. He felt like he was owed something. He went through all of that hard-work to make you win, all that trouble to ensure you walked out alive so he could get his prize...you. You belonged to him, owed him a life debt, and the only way to repay his generosity was handing over every piece he wanted.

You could only stare at the faucet ahead of you as water dripped off into the tub.

Plop, plop.

His hand stilled, "Aren't you going to thank me?" You racked your brain for the answer unsure of what you were supposed to respond with.

Plop, plop.

"Thank you Mr. President, sir." Was the safest option out of your lips, but his body was tense behind you.

Plop, plop.

"For?"

You closed your eyes a slight shake of your head wondering what he possible wanted from you. Your eyes slid back open. He wanted the validation, he wanted gratitude. "For saving me, for making me feel good."

Snow relaxed, a kiss pressed to your shoulder. He was running his hands through tendrils of wet hair his hand slinking between your legs. You stiffened, hand shooting to his wrist to stop him, "What's the matter bluebell?" He whispered in your ear shaking your hand off like it was nothing. "Isn't this what you wanted?" He brushed down your folds as you whimpered for him, "Why you made me leave work early to bring you back to bed?" You felt his pouting lips against your back making a mockery of you, "Why you were so sad I was gone this morning?"

His fingers found your clit rubbing small, slow circles, "It hurts." It didn't, but you were worried if he went further it would, or perhaps it wouldn't and you would wind up screaming his name against the ceramic tub. Both were terrifying.

"I know." He pressed a little harder listening to the whine ricocheting against the walls of the room. "You can take it." You spread your legs for him joints aching at the stretch as your fingers dug into his thighs feeling him rub circles on that sensitive bundle of nerves. "That's my girl." He cooed teeth grazing a tender bruise, and instead of a wince, a moan came out of your mouth. You were leaning into the pain he offered as the fire burned in your core. You closed your eyes fighting the pleasure and desire rippling through every part of you, you wished your body wouldn't burn for him, yet here you were, mouth agape, a mewling mess for him.

Then you did something completely insane and reached between you to run your hand along his hard cock. At first, it was a soft hand down his cock and then you were pumping his length, hearing him release a groan into your skin and you only worked him harder, swirling your hand around him, lightly grazing his balls each time you slid to the base.

"Do you want to fuck me?" He rasped moving his hips with your hand as he brought you closer to your peak.

"Yes." No hesitation. You blamed the rot in your soul.

His hand pressed down harder and you cried out black forming behind your eyes, "Say it." He gritted out.

"I want...to fuck you." A light pinch to your clit making you yelp. "Mr. President sir!"

His hands left your body as he lifted them up allowing free reign to move if you chose to. You sat there for a moment contemplating the decision, then slowly turned to face him. You weren't sure if it was bath water or sweat but his face was misted eyes glazed over, hair disheveled, curling slightly at the ends. He looked younger, he looked like that man you had seen sworn in on stage years ago. You were on your knees between his legs climbing over him, letting his hands find your waist as you shook against him.

There was no going back from this.

You lined him up and sank down. You went slowly this time, letting him stretch you open, letting the sweet thickness of him take you. At some point he had pressed you to his chest, or maybe you had moved, but your teeth were in his shoulder, biting as pain and pleasure melded. "You're so fucking tight." His hands were wrapped around you, gripping you tightly, as you sank down to the hilt moaning out at the delicious feeling of fullness. You clenched around him hearing him hiss fingers digging into your back as they tried to move back down to your hips. You were afraid to move, afraid to take him like this, but you needed more.

So, you rolled your hips against him. He took a sharp intake of breath, fingers pressing in your hips beginning to help your movements, help you grind your pussy onto his cock. You began to pull back, away from him, but he sat up more, gripping the edge of the tub to keep your pace, while his other hand went to your neck forcing your lips on his. It was an open mouth kiss as you whimpered onto his tongue feeling him everywhere. You let him nip at your lip as you licked the roof of his mouth, along his top teeth hands tangling through his hair as you slid up and down on his cock. You clit was grinding against him as your body sucked him in deep pressing in that sweet spot and you knew you were close.

You let your head fall back blind pleasure taking over as you rode him. "Feels good right?" He asked mouth traveling down to sweep across your heavy breast, taking your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue along it. "I make you feel so good hmm?" He mused sucking gently on it. "Treat you so nice." He grabbed the back of your neck forcing your forward once more until your forehead was pressed against his, "So good to you?"

"Yes." You sighed the fire in your core rippling through you ready to explode as water sloshed out of the tub. He began to fuck up into you the new speed sending you over the edge as your body shook in his arms. His hips stuttered and he was spilling inside you with a rough groan. You stayed like that for a moment, foreheads pressed together, breathing each others air.

He smirked at you, "Greedy, greedy girl." He forced you down on his chest as his cock twitch one last time inside you. "Can't get enough can you?"

You couldn't find the words to respond, too dazed to comprehend anything. The ache began to return between your legs, but you were too afraid to move until he let you. He did after a while, and then he cleaned you again, got you out of the tub to dry off and put a new nightgown on.

Soon enough you found yourself sprawled out on his lap as he combed your hair. You glanced up at him, at the concentration in his face, at the stray curls hanging onto his forehead. You brushed them away with your fingers his eyes meeting yours.

He had told you to be more grateful, so you were.

"Thank you Mr. President, sir."

A week had passed and you were sure you were going insane.

He fucked you the moment you opened your eyes, then he would leave for work, only to come back and fuck you through the night. He dressed you in the morning (usually something that allowed him easy access), he had your meals brought up to his room, cleaned you up every evening, and sometimes even permitted you to walk down the hall to the small study he had, to allow you some entertainment of reading.

You couldn't speak to anyone (not that they could respond), you couldn't watch the news, you had no idea what was going on out in the world. Were your parents worried? Did they think you were coming home soon? Were you ever going home?

You picked at your dinner.

Something had changed within you.

Your stomach panged close to the times food was set to be delivered. You began to chew at the skin around your nails with anxiety until someone came through the door, mostly waiting for him. And when he came in, still in his Presidential clothing, you felt wetness seep between your legs. You weren't sure why it was happening or when it had started, but your subconscious had taken over, your body responding in ways you could never control. He had trained it somehow to follow his schedule, to respond to him, and it was working.

You took him greedily each time; ravenous for him, for his mouth on you, his cock inside you. You would wrap your legs around him so tight to pull him closer, mouth on his jaw, breathing the air he gave you, sweat glistening off feverish skin, savoring the warmth of his cum inside you.

You hated him, but you hated yourself more for how much you were beginning to not hate him. He had saved your life, prevented that man from assaulting you, he fed you and washed you, kept you safe and provided for.

But you were locked in a cage; his cage, and you never could see beyond the bars of your inclosure. You stared longingly out the window, pressed your ears to the floorboards just to see, to hear something.

You needed to leave, you needed your sanity back.

He came through the door at his normal time wetness pooling between your thighs. He shrugged off his jacket setting it on the back of the chair and sat down across from you. "How was work?" You asked. So ordinary.

"Dull." He sighed his body sprawled out, his hands across his stomach as he stared at you. "Come here." You were on your feet padding over to him to sit on his lap his cool hand snaking around your waist, "Kiss me." You leaned down and pressed your lips to his feeling the quick sweep of his tongue and you opened your mouth for him. He straightened up pulling you down with a hand on your chin his tongue gently melding with yours. You whimpered into his mouth as his hand came off your face and between your legs. He smirked in your mouth, "Wet for me already?" He nipped at your lip, "I'll never tire of coming home to your soaked pussy."

You body tightened, "Mr. President, sir." You pulled back slightly just as his hands brushed along your folds. You squeezed your eyes trying to remember what you needed to say.

His eyes were studying you intensely. "What is it?"

Don't stutter. "Are you truly going to keep me here forever?"

He stared at you for a second his hand resting on your backside, the other still between your legs. "Isn't that what you wanted?" He began to laugh. "I thought you'd be happier here."

Ice rippled through your skin; he was never planning to let you go. You cleared your throat trying to remain calm. Your eyes flickered around his face. "You're the President, surly you need a Capitol woman for a wife, and it would be bad news if this situation ever got out."

"It won't get out." His hand gripped you a little harder like you would fly away.

"Please," your bottom lip wobbled. "Please let me go. You will tire of me soon enough." Part of you ached at the idea of it, of leaving, but you shoved that lunacy down.

His blue eyes were dark. "No I won't. You belong here, in that bed, drenched the minute I step in the door. You belong to me." His hand squeezed your cheeks moisture spilling across your jaw. "You are mine."

You sighed water welling in your eyes, "You're right." You nodded leaning forward to capture his lips. "I'm sorry." You kissed him again hand reaching behind you. "I'll stay." You lied as your hand wrapped around the plastic fork.

Because why would the give a victor real utensils.

Then you sank it into his hand resting on your ass. You heard him yelp as plastic snapped off, but your didn't stay to see if it drew blood as you ran out of the bedroom. He roared your name. You were sprinting down the hall almost to the stairs when you heard him stomping after you. Guards were rushing up so you turned heading to the upper level of the mansion. You felt like you were in the games all over again, running from them, lungs burning as you took two stairs at a time.

If all else fails you would fling your body out of the window hoping the ground would kill you before he did. You weren't even really sure if he would kill you, or just tie you to the bed like you knew he really wanted. Your freedom had always been an illusion.

You hit the end of the hall when you heard him breathing heavy from the other end. You dared a glance at him blood dripping off of the back of his hand, calm fury on his face. You went to the nearest door fighting with the locked handle to let you in as you heard him come closer. You were sobbing as you tried another door realizing you were trapped in this hall with him, like he had always prepared for something like this to happen.

His hands wrapped around your body, "Nowhere to go now bluebell."

"Stop calling me that!" You cried out thrashing against him.

He gritted his teeth, "Now I'm going to take you back to my room, and you are going to stay there."

You bucked against him. "No! Let me go!"

He flipped you around, hand on your throat, and slammed you into the wall. "What is so wrong with that? Why do you want to leave me so badly after everything I've done for you?" He snarled, eyes wild, "Haven't I been good to you!" You clawed at his arm your feet rising off the ground as he choked you. You stared wide eyed at him, gaping for air that was never coming. You figured it would be okay to die here, knew it was always coming the closer you had gotten to him, and somewhere deep down it made you sad.

"I...loved you." You choked out feeling his hand suddenly pull from you like it had branded him. You held your hand at your throat as he stared down at you, as you tried to catch your breath. "I watched you sworn in as President, and everyone was so hopeful, and I loved you for it. I worshipped you, adored you for that hope, that you might bring change."

You glanced up at him breathing heavily like he had been the one with a hand crushing his esophagus. "When did it stop?"

"When my name got called at the reaping."

He slapped you across the face the skin on your lip breaking as you fell sideways knocking a flower vase to the ground with you. It shattered into pieces, white roses sprawling across the floor with you. "Is that why you take me so well." He spoke from above you. His foot slammed down on your back face banging off the hard wood, "Did you imagine me when you used to touch yourself back in your hovel?" You only glared back at him behind a curtain of hair, blood spilling from your nose. He laughed, "You did." His smile fell, "I've given you everything you ever wanted. I saved you. I spoiled you, and this is how you repay me. So ungrateful."

"I hate you." You spat at him.

The corners of his mouth quirked up. "Hate burns hotter than love."

You screamed as your hand wrapped around a shard of glass and you swiped at him blood dripping from how hard you gripped it. He jumped back but it slashed his perfect cheek. You swiped at him again this time drawing blood from his hand as he held it up to protect himself. That boy's face from 2 flashed in your mind, his poor sick face and you pounced on him straddling his body pressing the jagged edge to his throat.

"Sir?" You knew guns were pointing at you, heard the tap of his fingers on the trigger with each thump of your heart beat. You stopped caring.

He held up a hand, eyes never leaving your face, "It's alright."

You watched your own blood trickle onto his face. Your lip curled back as you pressed harder into his pale soft fresh, but he wasn't scared. He just stared at you.

He knew you wouldn't do it.

So you yanked back and held it to your own throat warm blood leaking down your chest. He rubbed his hands up your legs splaying his fingers across skin. His eyes, gods his eyes, were so calm, so dark and full of desire like he enjoyed the chase, enjoyed watching you bleed and claw for him. The glass clattered to the floor in limp arms feeling his cock straining beneath you, and you...you were aching for it.

Your eyes wobbled as tears fell, "What did you do to me?" Because something had fundamentally changed you, he had fundamentally changed you to crave him this way, rewired you to need him this way. There was no other explanation to describe what coursed through you.

He only stared up at you the slow smirk spreading across his lips. "What did you do to me!" You roared at him needing the answer, needing to know why you could hate him so much, despise him, and need him so desperately.

"I showed you who you are." His hands traveled to rest across your backside. Yours. You remember his nose pressed to yours as you brushed the word against his mouth. You wanted to feel regret at the intimate word you let slip out the first night he took you.

You hated that you had whispered it, hated that you knew it was true simply by the way your hips rolled against his. You ached for him, you wanted him to fill you again, empty at the lack of his commanding presence inside of you. You hated that he had turned you into a whimpering mess starving for his pleasure.

His inherent hunger was contagious and he had made you starving.

He sat up pulling you flush against his body. "I see you." He was so close. "You never needed to plunge that knife into his heart three times. The first had hit home, and he was dying anyways." Hot breath fanned onto your blood streaked face. "I've always seen you for who you are."

Your parted bruised lips brushed his, teeth grazing, tongue darting out in an upward motion to lick into his mouth. Heat pooled in your core as you felt his cock twitch beneath you.

"The victor."

Your hands were rooted in his hair as you crushed your mouths together, it was messy and intoxicating as you consumed him. A battle of teeth and tongue, spit spilling between you both as you refused to come up for air. You pushed him to the ground, tongue down his throat, and a hand down his pants breaking the buttons open to free his cock. He was leaking from the tip and you smeared it down his cock pumping him with your hand as you lined him up with your soaking entrance.

Moaning into his mouth, you sank down onto him until nothing separated your bodies. Your open mouth rested against his parted lips breathing the same air and then you were moving, moving your hips, moving your mouth to taste his jawline, digging your teeth into his neck feeling the metallic taste of his blood rush into your mouth. You rode him harder, foot planted on the ground to move against him better, took back all the blood he had stolen from you. You wanted to rip his throat out, taste his pain, lap him up like nectar until the two of you were nothing but naked muscle. He scratched at your body, shredding open the blood stained pretty white dress he had put you in. You returned the favor, tearing open his shirt, buttons flying across the hall.

It was animalistic, it was primal starvation.

You wanted to feast on him, consume him like he had consumed you. He had carved out a home for himself inside of you and now you wanted to bury yourself in his flesh.

You leaned up his blood running down your chin as you glided your pussy against his cock, clit rubbing along his body. "There she is." He hooked his hand into your mouth and you wrapped your hand around his wrist to suck in his fingers, tasting your mess along them. You would never be full of him. He ripped them away from you smearing the trail of blood down your naked chest. "Go on, make yourself cum on my cock like the little whore you are." You squeezed your eyes feeling that overwhelming feeling creeping up your spine raking your nails down his chest. It feels too good, his cock hitting every right spot, his blood in your teeth, his hand pinching at your nipples. His nails are digging into your hips as he thrust his hips up to meet yours, to fuck you deeper. Your body shakes with the orgasm when it ripples through you, pussy clenching around him moaning out into the open air for him.

And then he's pushing you back, flipping you onto the ground broken glass splintering into your chest. You don't care. You'd bleed for him ten times over, you'd kill that boy every chance you got if it meant Coriolanus Snow would live inside you. He's pulling your hips up until your on all fours and then he slams into you. You cry out, grasping for nothing the force of him shoving your body forward. He yanks you back only to continue fucking you at a brutal pace, rutting into you like a ruthless animal. "You like when I fuck you like the bitch you are hmm?" His hips snap against yours as fingers dig into the flesh of your ass. "You want me to breed you too hmm? My prized little rose," Your nails scratch against wood splintering off as his dick hits your g-spot. "Want to give me little heirs don't you?" He tangles a fist in your hair arching you up, letting your pussy suck him in deeper, "Say it! Say you want my cum you greedy girl."

"Yes." You whimpered. "I want it. Please Coriolanus. I need it."

He wraps a hand around your throat pulling your back up against his chest to thrust up into you, "You're mine, do you understand that. You're never leaving me." He abuses your cervix hand gently squeezing your carotid. "You belong to me." He nips at your ear, "To do whatever I want, whenever I want. Forever."

And that doesn't sound so bad after all.

Your vision goes fuzzy as his hand slides off your neck and in-between your legs rubbing furiously into your clit. "Yours." You whine, hands reaching behind you to grip his hair. He's kissing your neck, sucking and biting at the wound you gave yourself. You're so foolish for running, for wanting to leave this, it was too good to ever leave. He was right; he had spoiled you rotten. He's grunting hot and heavy in your ear, lights dance behind your eyes as you feel his pace pick up, his fingers swirling your bundle of nerves rhythmically.

You're screaming his name to the heavens as your body goes over its peak.

You hate him, gods you hate him. You don't think you could ever stop hating him. But when his cum spills into you as you clamp down around his cock, you think you might worship him.

He drops your shaking, messy body to the hardwood floor as he thrust slowly into you, pushing his cum deeper and deeper, keeping every drop inside. His hand is still rubbing your clit, fucking you into overstimulation and you whine in protest, but he holds you still.

"Shh," He whispered gently, petting your head and you stop fighting him. "Such a good girl." You push your hips back, arching for him more. "My pretty girl." Your arousal drips down your leg, onto the floor as he leans down and kisses your spine. "Come on give me one more." You couldn't stop it if you tried as he pressed a little harder, softening cock twitching against a sensitive spot, his cum still warm inside you. His thumb rolled over your nipple, tugging and playing with the bud and when it was taut and throbbing he moved to the other one. It was overwhelming, feeling him everywhere like he was stuck under your skin. Your thighs were shaking, but he's holding you up as nails scratch against wood until they chipped.

The pressure dragged you under and you threw your head back your climax exploding around you as you came one more time. You could barely move, barely see straight, only slightly feeling him take his hand off your clit, only slightly feeling his cock start to harden again inside you.

He flips you over onto your back as you gaze up at him in a daze. His mouth is on your breast lazily running his tongue along your sensitive nipple. You mewl for him.

"Are you going to run away again?" He asked. You shake your head. His nose began to drag up your neck until it was pressing into yours. "Are you going to be ungrateful again?" You shake your head. His mouth lingered at your ear, "Are you happier here?"

He straightened up to stare down at you, stare down to where his cock slowly begins to thrust in and out of you again, stare down as you open for him more, stare down as maroon stains your chin, your chest, as your mouth parts his blood coating your teeth.

"Yes Mr. President, sir."

He smiled down at you.

He told you he was getting married with his tongue between your thighs, gave you all the reasons he couldn't marry you. You were district after all, and he was the President. You didn't really listen as you orgasmed against his face.

He married Livia Cardew a few months later.

You weren't allowed at the wedding.

"You understand don't you bluebell?" He stroked your cheek as he got himself dressed taking in the sight of you lying naked on his bed cum leaking from your cunt.

She didn't know about you, you had figured that out on their wedding night when she had barged into his room, demanding to know why he wasn't spending it with her, screaming at the sight of him pile driving into you on his bed.

He made her sit and watch. He forced her into a chair as he took you over and over again, as you screamed her husband's name as he made you cum, as he spilled inside of you making her stare horrified when he took his fingers and shoved every spilled drop back inside you.

She tried to leave then, realizing the situation at hand, but he threatened to cut out her tongue before she left or he could string her corpse above his mansion door...whatever she chose.

She stayed.

You knew sometimes she would listen, listen to how he would fuck you into the long hours of the night, how you cried his name as you rode him. How you begged him to fuck you again once he had finished. You knew she hated seeing you next to him at the dinner table knowing her husband's cum was leaking between your thighs, that your teeth were the ones marking his skin.

He implanted you with birth control, you figured it would happen. You knew he couldn't have children with you, couldn't have district blood tainting the presidency line despite his want to breed your obedience into his children. Only on some occasions when he fucked you, he had to finish into a cup to bring to the doctor to artificially get Livia pregnant. He brought you beautiful roses every time he had to do it.

And once a year, he got to parade you on his arm for the annual hunger games. He loved watching you tuck into him to get away from lusting men, loved fucking you in the bathroom when the speeches were done. You didn't care if anyone could hear you, if Mags was disgusted by you.

You didn't care anymore. Not about Livia, not about how much you didn't hate him anymore, not about the games, not about your sad garden wilting away in District 6.

Coriolanus let you tend to his pretty, sweet smelling white roses.

You were a victor, his victor.

So, when you glanced over at him in the middle of the night, sleeping, moonlight spilling onto his peaceful features and you thought about slitting his throat, you decided to climb on top of him. You reached under the blankets, pumped his cock until it was hard and sank down onto him, fucking him awake.

"Such a good girl." He would kiss your cheek as his cum coated your walls.

"Thank you Mr. President, sir."

THE END

endnotes: ((this was supposed to be so much darker but god said 'no girl dont do that' lmao)) OMG IM SO SAD THIS IS OVER!! thank u so much for sticking with me and reading and all the kind words!!

divider credit: @rookthornesartistry

tags: @wearemadeofstardust0 , @astarborntowrite , @genderfluid-anime-goth , @merlieve , @darktrashsoulbear , @euphemiaamillais , @dousyskid , @bunny24sstuff , @bloobewy , @tmblrsexyw0man , @italiekim , @anthgoldenhrry , @becauseseaotters bold is tumblr wouldn't let me tag

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus smut #coryo x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #dark fanfic #dark fanfiction #fanfic #hunger games #president snow #president snow x reader #coryo smut #coryo snow

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thisismeracing · 1 year

Note

millie! can i request #5 for sharlssss?

nonny!! of course! 🥰🥰here you gooo, sorry for taking forever *mwah*

From the Quick Prompt List: 5. “You're too overprotective”

word count: 0.5k

pairing: reader (she/her pronouns) x charles leclerc

warnings: fluff, mentions of skiing, mentions of losing someone you love (but its fairly quick), not proofread.

"Did you get all your clothes? Are you warm enough?" Charles asked doing a once over Yn to make sure she was wrapped around the thick clothes.

They were going skiing together, something Yn never did before. She also wasn't the biggest fan of the winter season, she wasn't against it while at home near the fireplace with hot cocoa on her hands, but walking around snow? playing around in the snow? it could be too much, so she usually let it pass. However, this time she wanted to go skiing, she wanted to do something different and of course, Charles would follow her around.

"I did, sharls," she theatrically rolls her eyes and one of their friends chuckles.

"It seems like you cannot worry about your own girlfriend anymore nowadays," the moneguásque quips before grabbing his things.

It was only an hour after they got into the ski resort when Charles asked, "Mon amour, you should drink some water, it's easy to dehydrate in this weather too, you know?"

Yn huffed but grabbed her water bottle taking a long gulp before directing her attention back to her gear again. And Charles being Charles did the same: paid attention to her gear. He strapped everything and made sure her helmet was in place. When all their friends were ready to go they took the chairlift to the top of the hill, Yn admired the sight and tried to remember all the instructions given when they got there, instructions essentially for her and a small group who were not used to the sport, meanwhile, Charles and the others were just fine having done it since forever.

"Maybe we should go to the smallest mountain," Leclerc suggests when Yn wobbled on her feet almost hitting the ground without even starting the path down. "Or maybe take some classes before trying it, it should be safer," he adds.

"Stop it, Charles! You're too overprotective! I'm fine, I will be fine, it's not the first time I try something new, you gotta give me space to be," she states, and although her words are assertive, she uses her soft tone because she's well aware he wasn't doing it on purpose. The thing was, Charles was afraid of her getting hurt, or worse, losing her, so he would always make sure she was safe, he would move heavens and earth so that Yn would feel ok because he knew exactly how it felt to lose someone you love.

"I'm sorry," he says before dropping her mask to touch their cold lips in a kiss. Yn brings him closer and deepens it making sure he knows she got him and that she would be safe, there was nothing to worry about, that was what she tried to say with the kiss.

And that's exactly what happened: they were safe the whole day skiing around the resort. Yn fell on her butt and rolled down some feet, but so did their friends, and eventually so did Charles. It was a fun day, and Charles knew Yn would eventually fall again, but he would be there and that was the most comforting thing, for her, to know that someone was there to catch you or to console you; and for him, to know that he was that someone for her.

-ok alexa play We are the champions by Queen cuz millie finally finished the quick prompt list party yayyyy hope you guys liked it <3 lmk your thoughts, gimme your likes, reblogs, and comments, I appreciate it *mwah*

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc one shot #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #blurbs #requests #millie writes #prompt party #cl16

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dreaming-medium · 4 months

Text

Christmas Wrapping

Pairing: Changbin x reader (established relationship)

Word Count: 2.1k

Genre: fluff fluff fluff

Summary: Your boyfriend is horrible at wrapping presents. How lucky that he has you to help him.

A/N: This isn’t proofread yet, but I couldn’t help but think of soft Christmas Binnie while I was wrapping presents today <3 Enjoy!

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“Oh lord.” It comes out of your mouth before you can stop it. Then, your statement is quickly followed by a snort and a laugh.

When you opened the door to you and your boyfriend’s shared apartment, the last thing you expected to see was him standing at your kitchen island wrapping presents.

Poppy Christmas music is playing loudly on the Alexa on the kitchen counter. He’s singing to himself, moving his hips back and forth to the beat.

The softest looking cashmere sweater stretches over his broad shoulders, dress pants barely containing his muscular legs.

He may be wrapping presents, but he’s the one that looks like a gift that’s only missing a bow.

The cherry on top was the Santa hat plopped on top of his curly hair.

‘Wrapping presents’ is a loose term though. The two parcels he’s done already are stacked on the counter with the worst wrap job you’ve ever seen in your life.

The edges were bumpy and lumpy, the paper jutting out in every direction. There was so much scotch tape on the paper you’re wondering if you should’ve picked some up on your way home.

Kicking off your shoes and hanging your coat up, you notice that Changbin hasn’t noticed you come home yet, he’s too wrapped up in his Christmas bubble— no pun intended.

When you pad up behind your cozy boyfriend, you slide your arms around his waist and hug him from behind.

Changbin jumps, startled, and makes a tiny noise of surprise.

“Hi, Binnie,” you coo, squeezing him tighter.

“Hello, my Christmas Angel.” His hands rest on top of yours.

His body heat already warming you up from the outdoor chill.

You peer around his shoulder down at the present in front of you. He’s about halfway through the Holiday Abomination he calls wrapping.

“What are you up to?”

He hums and reaches down to twist the half-wrapped gift around. “I knew we were going to be pressed for time before the party tonight, thought I would help with wrapping gifts so you didn’t need to rush.”

Your heart swells three sizes like the grinch, a genuine smile gracing your cheeks.

“Aren’t you sweeter than a Christmas cookie?” You move around to stand next to him and press a long, sweet kiss to his cheek.

When you pull away from his cheek, he’s quicker. Changbin sweetly grabs your face and presses his lips to yours for a long, delicate kiss.

Pulling away, he rubs your cheek with his thumb. “You’re home early, sugar plum.”

You giggle. He’s made it his mission since December first to call you every cheesy Christmas pet name he could think of.

“My boss let us loose for the holiday.” Once more, you wrap your arms around him, he turns to face you completely.

“How nice.” Another peck to your lips.

“More time to spend with my amazing boyfriend,” you say against his lips.

Changbin kisses you again. “Is he coming?” You pinch his side. He yelps and jumps in your arms.

Again and again he kisses your lips sweetly.

You don’t even bother opening your eyes in between them, you know he’s going to continue over and over again.

Eventually, the kisses move to your cheeks, to your nose, your forehead, anywhere he can reach.

Both of you are smiling like idiots, unable to stop your childish giggles.

“Okay, okay,” you laugh and push his chest to get him away from you.

Changbin whines. “One more, one more!”

“Okay, okay!”

He leans in and kisses your lips; it’s so soft and gentle. Every delightful emotion that comes with the holiday season is packed into it.

How did you ever spend a Christmas without him? All of those Christmas songs make sense now that you’re with him.

When you lean back to separate from the kiss, he leans forward more, grabbing your waist with both hands to keep you close to him.

The two of you are both so whipped for one another— it’s so sweet it could rot your teeth.

You laugh into the kiss, Changbin can’t help but smile against your lips. Your happiness is so contagious.

Turning your head, you wrap your arms around his neck and look down at the kitchen island.

He continues his assault on your face in spite of his ‘one more’ statement.

You can’t even be mad or upset at the terrible wrap job of the gift, he’s helping in whatever way he could think of.

But, my god, it’s so bad.

More and more laughter bubbles from your chest the longer you look down at it. How did he even do this horrible?

“Binnie, my dear?” you ask.

“Yes, my Christmas cookie?” he responds in between smooches.

“Have you ever wrapped presents before?”

Slowly, his kisses slow down, one by one until he stops and turns to look down at the present in front of you both.

His arms wrap around your waist even tighter, his cheek presses against yours.

God, the two of you are sickening to anyone but yourselves.

“Is it obvious?”

Yes. “No.”

You turn and kiss his cheek. “I think it’s great for your first time.” Kiss. “I’ll help you with the rest.” Kiss. “And I’ll show you an even easier way to wrap them.” Kiss.

He laughs against your face.

“Okay, okay, come on then, teach me how to wrap them, Betty Lou Who.”

Reaching up, you pinch his cheek playfully. “Don’t be a grinch.”

Chuckling, he pushes your hand away from his face, feigning pain.

You both turn and look at the present. “Here,” you say, turning it around a bit. “We’ll finish this guy and then do the rest.”

Changbin presses one last kiss on the crown of your hair and turns his attention to the poorly wrapped gift once more.

“Can you man the tape dispenser?” You grab the tape and hand it to him.

He nods, already ripping one piece off.

Assessing the damage, you go to work. It’s a box set of party games that you bought for Felix. He’s been hosting more get togethers at his apartment, and each time, he complains about not having any games to play.

You fold the paper around and make some cuts at the excess.

When you hold your hand out, Changbin sticks a tiny piece of tape to your finger. Smiling, you tape down the paper and spin the box to work on the sides.

You repeat this process over and over with the gift until it’s covered with green and gold paper.

Humming, you look around. “Do you wanna put a bow on it?”

Changbin giggles, “Yes.” He reaches for the bag and finds the bow with the most glitter on it and sticks it right in the middle of the box.

“Okay, now write his name on a label and stick it to the box.”

He follows your instructions and you grab the next present.

A new picnic basket set for Hyunjin. Changbin insisted this was the perfect gift for him.

Thank god it came in a box.

You roll out the sparkly paper and start measuring and cutting. Changbin watches closely over your shoulder.

Fold after fold, you wrap up the gift, your boyfriend continuing to hand you pieces of tape.

He hums and sings along with the songs playing over the speaker.

Before you could even ask, he slaps on a big bow and a premade label.

“Beautiful!” he cheers, picking up the gift to move it to the side.

He puts it with the other completed gifts. The stark difference between your handiwork and his makes you snort.

Three more gifts to wrap.

You grab the nice diffuser you bought for Chan. It came with several scents which you read were great for falling asleep; which he desperately needed.

Hovering over your shoulder, Changbin continues to watch your movements closely.

In between tape pieces, he kisses your neck and shoulders softly. Each press sends goosebumps down your arms.

Within a few minutes, the diffuser is wrapped, a bow placed on top with a label written out.

Changbin grabs the gift and moves it to the side.

You’re preparing to wrap the new knife set for Minho when you feel something placed on top of your head. A soft, white puff ball bounces in front of your eyes.

“Much better for my little snow Angel.” Changbin wraps his arms around you from behind, his nose tucking into your neck.

The Santa hat that now adorns your head matches his.

You lean into his warmth, it wraps around you like a blanket. To the slow rhythm of the music, Changbin sways the two of you back and forth.

You’re still able to reach the gift in his grasp.

Humming to the music, you continue to wrap Minho’s gift. Changbin picks up the tape and hands you pieces.

With the way he’s holding you, it’s like you have a second set of arms.

Which would be remarkably helpful this time of year.

The gift is wrapped before the song is over.

“You want to put a bow on this one?” you ask, turning your head to kiss his cheek.

Changbin looks over to where the bows and labels are on the counter. Dramatically, he reaches his hand out to them. “So far away,” he whines.

Quickly, his arm comes back to wrap around your middle. “Too far away, sorry.”

You kiss his cheek two more times, a dopey smile pulling at his lips. “Drama Queen.”

Pushing the gift to the side, you grab the last one. A laptop stand for Jisung. According yo Changbin, he’s been slouching to look at his in the studio.

“Can I wrap this one?” Binnie asks on your shoulder.

“Of course, baby.”

He releases your waist and comes around to your side. When you don’t move, Changbin looks down at you expectantly.

“What?” you ask with a laugh.

“Assume position, Mrs. Claus.” He motions behind him.

You laugh and grab the tape from him. “Oh, sorry, Mr. Claus.”

As soon as you’re behind him, Changbin reaches behind him to grab your wrists and wraps them around his body.

You’re barely able to peer over his shoulder or around his bicep to see how he’s doing.

Changbin hesitates for only a few seconds before rolling out the wrapping paper.

He smells so nice. You nuzzle your nose into his sweater. A clean, musky scent wraps around your nose. He smells like the holidays.

Your arms tighten around him.

“You’re bad at playing Tape Girl.” He pats your hand.

“My bad, there’s a hulking man blocking my vision.” You rip a piece of tape and hold it for him to take.

Changbin takes the piece from your fingers. “A muscular hunk, you mean.”

“A muscular, sexy, bulging, handsome man.”

“Oh, I like that better.”

You feel him flex his abs under your hands. Giggling, you squeeze him tighter.

There’s some movement, you rip another piece of tape. He takes it.

You take over his previous job of swaying to the music and humming behind him. The softness of his sweater feels so nice against your cheek.

His shoulder muscles move with each fold and turn off the present.

When you rip each piece of tape, he takes it gingerly.

It takes a lot longer than if you did it, but Changbin proclaims the present as finished after a few minutes.

Peering around his body, you warily take a look.

And much to your surprise, the present is neatly wrapped! It’s not perfect by any means, but it’s definitely better than his first two attempts.

“Wow, Binnie!” you say with a smile. “You learn quickly!”

He turns around, you move your arms up around his neck.

Changbin nuzzles his nose with yours in an Eskimo kiss. The two of you giggle like school kids.

His arm raises above your head. Pulling away, you look up to see him holding a small bundle of green ribbon.

“Mistletoe,” he says cheekily.

“That’s not mistletoe,” you tease.

Changbin kisses your cheek slowly, he moves all around your skin, skillfully avoiding your lips.

“Oh, it’s not?” Kiss. “I guess I can’t kiss you anymore then.”

He begins to pull away from you but you just as quickly yank his face back to yours.

“Come here, you big softie.”

He laughs and drops the ribbon on the ground, scooping you up with both arms to kiss your lips.

Each time your lips meet, it feels like the first time. Your heart lights up like a Yule log— his love is warmer than any fireplace, any mug of cocoa you could ever wrap your hands around.

His lips slide over yours slowly, making sure you feel every ounce of his love. Even your heartbeats begin to sync up.

“I love you,” you whisper in between kisses.

“I love you too, my sugar cookie.”

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #seo changbin x reader #Changbin x reader #seo changbin #changbin x y/n #seo changbin x y/n #stray kids reader insert

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blues824 · 1 year

Note

Hello. Can I request Muzan, Douma, Akaza, Daki and Gyutaro (separately) with human S/O, who willingly help them for two reasons: first, their love towards them, and second, the fact that they f*cking hate people (lol, I really shouldn't watch YGOTAS that much)?

I am so sorry for how late this is. Also, imma make it so that you are married to them because I had no idea how else to execute this. Also also, kind of OOC, but eh.

Also also also, I hate people as well. All my readers are exceptions tho.

Muzan Kibutsuji

“My love, why are you so willing to help me?” He asked after you already went through most of his task list by yourself. You were even willing to lay down your own life for him if it ever came to that point. But why??

“Well, because I love you. In our wedding vows, I vowed that I would support you in any way that I could. I also just hate people” You responded honestly. Even if you had a horrible past, people just sucked in general.

Muzan seemed satisfied by your answer, responding by putting his hands on the side of your waist and pulling you in for a kiss. It was small moments like these with your husband that you treasured the most.

“Darling, on our wedding day, you looked so ethereal. As if you were a snow monarch in the midst of the stars of the night sky” He whispered into your ear. He always managed to make your heart squeeze in adoration for him.

“And you looked so unbelievably handsome, I was nervous about tripping on the aisle because I was so distracted.” You giggled as you looked into your husband’s eyes. He had a smile gracing his lips. It wasn’t normal for you both to be seen as lovey-dovey, but that doesn’t mean it never happens

Douma

As a result of being joined together in matrimony, it only made sense that his followers became your followers as well. While being praised as a deity definitely has its perks, it was a lot to get used to in such a short amount of time. Especially if you weren’t particularly fond of humankind.

“Y/N, how are you adjusting to being the spouse of a highly worshiped demon?” He asked with a smile. We all know that he’s genuinely apathetic, but when he saw you for the first time… Alexa, play This Is What Falling In Love Feels Like by JVKE.

“It’s a lot to adjust to, if I’m being honest. All the worship is a lot to handle. You know how much I don’t like people” You let out a weak laugh as you gave him your answer. He had a frown on his face as you said it. He pulled you into a hug and placed a kiss on your temple.

“On our very special day, I vowed that I would protect you and provide for you. If you don’t tell me these things, then I’m not doing my job as your husband.” He whispered to you. He felt like he failed you. Why wouldn’t you tell him something like this?

“You are doing a wonderful job as my husband, honey. It’s your followers that are the problem. I understand that you would get praise, but I would rather not have it.” Douma made a mental note to warn his followers that if they were so much as to breathe in your direction from now on, they would meet their end.

Akaza

He has forgotten what the word home meant before he met you. You were just so loving and you acted like his rock that kept him stable. You gave him a purpose other than becoming stronger. This is how he knew that he absolutely needed to marry you. However, you were still human.

“Baby, do you ever miss your family?” He asked as he saw you making something in the kitchen of your shared home. Times like these are times he can mistake you both as being a normal married couple in a normal house with normal lives.

“You are my family.” You didn’t look up, instead you continued chopping the vegetables you were making for the stew. You knew that Akaza wasn’t able to consume it, but you were still human. “You’re the only one I need.”

“Yes, but before me you had a life with your friends and family. Surely you must miss them, or at least hold some resentment towards me?” You always hated when he would get insecure because he never saw how great he treated you compared to the people from your past.

“If I had to choose between you and my family, I would choose you no matter what. We made a vow to stick with each other for better, for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health.” He seemed happy with your answer, as he gave you a kiss on your shoulder and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind.

Daki

We all know how much of a child she is, but when you agreed to marry her, it increased by a lot. She became super clingy because of her past. However, you don’t mind. I mean, you knew you would never be treated horribly by her because of it. But she still has her insecurities.

“Sweetie, why are you still with me? You’re human, and you had a life before I took you away from it.” She ended her tangent with a sad sigh. It pained you to see her so blue, so you knelt in front of her and took her hands in yours.

“I’m still with you because we’re married and it’s not that easy to leave. I also love you and hate humans.” You said with a soft smile. Memories of your wedding day flashed through your mind: your wife (then fiance) was so beautiful in the white kimono. Gyutaro was sobbing in the front.

“If you could, would you ever go back?” She asked. She had never felt so sad, because she knew that she originally didn’t really give you a choice in the whole matter. Wasn’t marriage supposed to be a mutual agreement between both parties?

“Absolutely not. Instead, I would go back so that I could be the one to ask you to marry me. I love you, Daki. I wouldn’t give up what we have for the world.” You whispered. She had shed a few tears during your ‘speech’. Then she pulled you into her lap (she’s strong, your size doesn’t matter) and squeezed you tightly.

Gyutaro

If you think Daki was clingy, you haven’t seen anything yet. Sure at first he was extremely distant, but when you reassured him that you weren’t leaving he held on for dear life. If his hand isn’t in yours, his whole arm is around your waist.

“Baby, why don’t you leave me? You’ve always stuck by my side, but why?” Even if he was super powerful, he still had those days of doubt. And on those days, you would make him lay his head in your lap and run your fingers through his hair while you tell him the reasons why you love him.

“Let’s see… because you’re the most handsome, loving, amazing husband that I could ever ask for. You protect me, love me, and make good on your promises to me that you made at our wedding.” With each thing you listed, Gyutaro’s blush worsened more and more.

“But you could do so much better than settling down with me. You’re graceful, kind, and a good listener.” He rambled on and on. Once he got going, it was hard for him to stop. It saddened you that you couldn’t just reach in and extract all self-deprecating thoughts from his mind.

“Gyu, I chose you for a reason. If I didn’t want to marry you, I wouldn’t have said yes when you proposed. I wouldn’t have said I do after our vows. I love you, Gyutaro. Now, accept it.” You jokingly threatened. You always knew how to make him feel better.

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brighter-by-the-daly · 6 months

Text

Rachel Daly x Reader

New to the Neighbourhood

AN: Inspired by a conversation with @hernightsky over these photos 🫶

Pulling up on the driveway you took a moment to look up at the house in front of you before getting out, soaking up the moment you were finally moving in to your first home. You felt excited but a little overwhelmed with how quickly everything had happened and now you’re on your own, no more mum and dad there to help you 24/7 but you knew they would only be a phone call away. You’ve never lived by yourself before and now you have an entire building to play with! You had chosen a new build and had been involved with all the decisions regarding furnishing the property before you moved in; it was in a new residential area, a close with terraced houses in a square around the cul-de-sac. Everyone had brightly coloured flowers in their garden, wreaths on the front door and the neighbours seemed super friendly when you came for viewings.

“Smile!” shouted your mum suddenly jolting you out of your daydreaming about where you were going to put everything, spinning around you grabbed the SOLD sign out of the ground and held it excitedly for a photo in front of your home before slotting the key into the front door for the first time. Your parents immediately created a line from the van to the doorstep - your dad unloaded, your mum ferried and you put the boxes in the rooms they belonged in. Neighbours came and went wishing you well while welcoming you to the neighbourhood, one even made you cups of tea as you hadn’t found the kettle yet.. you knew you were gonna love it here. Your parents stayed overnight to help you unpack and settle in, the next day they left after helping you set up your bills and direct debits. You ordered a food shop and got to work with putting your own stamp on the property, driving to a homeware store and picking up the paint and wallpaper you’ve had your eyes on for months.

Sitting in the middle of your newly painted bedroom you worked well into the early morning to finish, you started to remove the rollers from your hair when you heard a familiar rattle outside. “Shit!” scrambling to your feet and throwing your robe on, you swiped the rubbish from the surfaces into a black sack and desperately tried to make sure you got outside before the bin men left, throwing the front door open in a hurry to see they had already turned the corner and were driving away. “Fuck!” you shouted into the morning sun, annoyed that you hadn’t thought to check when the rubbish was collected beforehand. Hearing a cackle come from a distance you squinted to see who was laughing at you, “they come every week yknow!” a sarcastic voice called from the other side of the close, shielding your eyes from the sun to see a figure standing in their driveway. “Yeah” you replied begrudgingly with a limp smile and a roll of your eyes, throwing the bag to the side of your garden before making a deflated walk back into your house. As soon as the door slammed shut your reasoning returned - your neighbour was right, they do come every week, no need to be upset about it.. it just felt like you failed your first task at being a home owner. Your dad always used to take the rubbish out, it was something you didn’t have to think about and it’s not your fault you didn’t know what day it was.

Calling out to Alexa to play your favourite radio station your anger soon floated away with the sunrise as you finished doing your hair and make up, hanging clothes in your wardrobe and picking an outfit out for tonight. Your friends were coming over for a house warming party and you had been keen for it to be a gathering with not too many people, you didn’t want your carpets getting ruined already! But your friends insisted they had to christen the moment the first of the friend group moved out of their parent’s house. You’d been saving up since you were 18 and because England has awful mortgage rules it had taken you over a decade to finally get enough for a deposit. So they’re right, you do deserve to be celebrated! This is a milestone not everyone achieves in their lifetime and you had worked incredibly hard to get here, especially on your own!

Turning up the music you danced around your near on empty house, cracking open a bottle of wine and finally feeling calm enough to collect the rubbish you’d dumped earlier in exhaustion. Opening the door to pick the black bag up you noticed it was no longer there, looking around to see if anyone had moved it the same neighbour from this morning approached you. “I put it in mine!” pointing to a wheelie bin next to her garage then proceeded to tell you how you can order one too from the council’s website; then I don’t have to remember to put the bins out – genius! You thanked her for the information and was about to close the door but she carried on talking to tell you about the recycle days, the nearest shop for milk, gave you the local window cleaner’s number and where not to park as some neighbours are territorial over parking spaces. “Ahhh, that may be a problem. I’ve got friends coming over for a house warming tonight” you pondered, touching your hand to your chin wondering where everyone was going to park. “Get them to car pool or use the bus, there’s a stop just around the corner. If you need to you can use my driveway, I’ve got work and won’t be home tonight” she smiled during her offering. Thanking her profusely you finally went your separate ways.

Some of your friends stayed over that night and as they were leaving in the morning your neighbour was returning home from work, giving a small wave to each other in passing your friends turned around to look at where your attention had turned to. Watching the woman unload her car with a large duffle bag, you and your friends ogled the mysterious blonde from across the road. “She looks so familiar!” one of your friends said as everyone else agreed. “We chatted yesterday and the whole time I was trying to figure out why I recognised her” talking quietly so you weren’t overheard by the stranger. “Maybe we went to school with her, could have been the year above us?” shrugging at your friends guesses you finished saying goodbye and that you’d see them soon, waving them off you entered the house to do the last bit of tidying they’d left you with.

Later on there was a knock at the door, opening it confused to see your new neighbour standing on the doorstep. “Hey! Just thought I’d bring something to officially welcome you the neighbourhood” she said with a friendly smile and handing you a bunch of flowers with a card. “Thanks, you didn’t have to but I appreciate it” you responded a little taken aback at her generosity; you didn’t think people still talked to their neighbours these days, especially a new person! “I’ll have to find out the vase from one of these boxes” you chuckled, knowing full well you didn’t have one - nobody had ever bought you flowers before! “Oh! You can borrow mine!” she said and before you could contest the offer she was already sprinting off back to her house, barely gone a minute before returning with a simple glass vase. “You have to snip the ends at an angle and pull the leaves off before putting them in the water” she must have sensed that you’d never arranged a bouquet in your life, probably obvious by the way you were holding them like a new born baby that had been reluctantly dumped in your arms. “There’s a sachet there to put in the water too, makes them live longer” she smiled but you could tell she was now anxiously waffling. You thanked her and swiftly closed the door, keen to not take up anymore of her time.. or yours. You don’t know this woman and if you didn’t cut her off who knows how long you’d be standing out there talking! You arranged the flowers in the borrowed vase in the kitchen and displayed them in your front room window so they were visible to everyone outside, walking through to the hallway your fingers tore open the envelope, trying to catch something that slipped from the card before it fell to the floor.

Hey [insert name here]

Welcome to the neighbourhood!

Here if you need anything!

Rachel x

PS. here’s a number for your wheelie bin so they don’t get mixed up!

Noticing she had scribbled her phone number at the bottom that became visible as the number sticker slipped out of the card, ‘I never would have thought of this’, you thought as you left it on the sideboard in your porch and went upstairs to run a bath. Flopping back onto the sofa an hour later and switching on the TV, mindlessly flicking through channels as you reread the card, your hands already holding your phone punched in the number Rachel had written.

Y: “(y/n)”

R: “Huh?”

Y: “Insert name here… it’s (y/n)”

R: “Ahh, hi (y/n). Do you know nets are see through when you have the lights on?”

Your eyes bulged out of your head as they suddenly flicked towards the window, scrambling in panic to pull the sofa cushions over the top of you. Coming from shared accommodation you had been so excited to get your own house and be able to walk around naked with no worries in the world that you had forgotten to pull the curtains! You’d dropped your towel when you were walking down the stairs and had been flicking between the kitchen and the lounge fetching snacks before your evening Love Island catch up. Laying on your sofa frozen with anxiety wondering how you’re going to move anywhere with no clothing in sight you took to slithering off your sofa and onto the floor, pencil rolling over to the boxes that hadn’t been unpacked yet. There has to be clothes in here somewhere! Finally feeling something fluffy and knowing it was the new blanket for your bed, you wrapped yourself up like a burrito and hopped over to the window, seeing Rachel at hers waving while in full fits of laughter. Wincing at your incredibly stupid mistake you snapped the curtains shut in embarrassment and sunk down the radiator onto the floor again - what a way to announce your arrival!

The next day you were hurriedly leaving for work, your alarm hadn’t sounded you awake and you didn’t have long to get to your job. Rushing out of the door in a chaotic whirlwind you pulled on your jacket and zipped up your bag when you looked up and saw Rachel working out in her garage. Your face quickly blushed red as you turned and slammed the door of your house with you still inside it. How can you live in a neighbourhood where at least one of your neighbours have already seen you naked in the first week of living here?! Peeping out of your porch window to see her sitting on the weight bench with her phone in her hand.. now is your time to run for it - when she’s distracted! Locking your door as quietly as you could you tiptoed over to your car, closing the door with a sigh of relief that you hadn’t been spotted when your phone pinged making you jump. “You know you can’t hide from me forever” turning to look out of your window to see her subtly tilt her head up to the sky with a nod of acknowledgment and disarmament, you sent her a nod back in awkward recognition before driving away. You spent your shift searching for new houses, ones far away where nobody would know you as the naked neighbour! “Is it too soon to move?” you asked in the cafeteria which was met by laughter from your work friends after telling them what had happened. They reassured you that it must happen to everyone at least once in their lifetime and told you to suck it up.

Arriving home to see Rachel’s car was gone you decided to start working on your front garden, safe in the knowledge that you weren’t going to bump into her this afternoon. Sitting cross legged on the grass and digging holes for flowers soon burned the hours away as you pottered around your garden making it look as lovely as the rest of the neighbourhood, you were able to relax knowing that Rachel doesn’t usually return home until the next morning and figured that she must work night shifts. That was until she did return home, much earlier than you were expecting! You had finished your garden and was laying on the newly laid grass gazing up at the sky when you heard the hum of a car drive into your close, sitting up to see it was Rachel and quickly flopping back down, closing your eyes hoping she’d think you were asleep.. or dead! Hearing the car door slam you held your breath in anticipation that she wouldn’t notice you but instead you heard footsteps getting closer along with small pitter patters, only opening your eyes as a you felt a tongue lick your face to see a small dog staring at you with its head tilted. “Who’s this?” your voice turned high pitch at the cute little floof eyeballing you. What a way to break the ice, she’s an actual genius! “Dexi, she seems to like you” she said sitting down on the grass next to you. “Look, it’s not a big deal and getting caught out has happened to all of us” she said trying to make you feel better, plopping the small dog in your lap to stroke her. Raising an eyebrow to question her statement, “really?” you asked, wondering if your friends were right that it does happens to everyone. “Well.. no, but isn’t it a good thing I told you so it didn’t happen again?” she laughed to herself, once again making your cheeks turn red in cringeworthy embarrassment. “Err.. I guess?” For all you know, there was only one person that knew what had happened, doesn’t mean anybody else had seen you and this woman seems like she wouldn’t gossip about it to others in the area. You spent the afternoon chatting on the lawn and playing with Dexi, the embarrassment was soon forgotten as you spoke about anything and everything. A few hours passed when a delivery lorry pulled up in front of your house and unveiled your new bin, Rachel was quick to her feet to collect it for you, wheeling it next to your garage and asking where your sticker was that she got for it. Pointing to the inside of your porch, “may I?” she asked while holding the handle, nodding at her in encouragement before entering your home and grabbing the sticker from the cabinet just inside the door. Crouching down to press the sticker firmly onto your new bin, she stepped back to admire her work and to soak up the adoration for her help and thoughtfulness. You spent the rest of the afternoon talking about why you both moved to the area, how long she has lived here, your mutual love for Love Island and all things reality TV. “What school did you go to?” you finally plucked up the courage to ask, assuming she came from the area. “Not one round here” she chuckled, inquisitive of why you would ask that. “Hmm, me and my friends swear we recognise you from somewhere! We thought maybe it was from school?” you laughed nervously desperately trying to rack your brain as to why she looks so familiar. The blonde shrugged her shoulders and swiftly excused herself after that, citing she needed to feed Dexi.

A few days passed you were making your dinner when the vase Rachel had leant you caught your attention on the draining board, looking out of the window to see her garage door open you decided to pay her a visit. “Hey! I forgot to give your vase back!” calling out as you approached the garage before popping your head in to see her counting reps under her breath as she lifted the weight bar, reaching 50 before stopping to talk to you. “Sorry, would have lost my place if I stopped” standing up to straighten out her top. “You didn’t have to bring it back, you might get more flowers one day” she said approaching you, scratching the back of her neck in a slightly awkward manner. “You’re the only person that’s ever bought me any so I don’t think it’s going to happen any time soon” you laughed nervously. “Ya never know though” she shrugged but took the ornament out of your hands, “believe me, I know” you insisted before excusing yourself as dinner was in the oven. Rachel asked what you’ve got so told her you had enough for two if she fancied it; accepting the offer cautiously, she’ll come over after she’s showered.

The doorbell rang as you went to answer it to Rach standing on the doorstep waving a bottle of wine around with a goofy grin. As you finished dishing up dinner, she took herself on a tour of your house even though it was exactly the same layout of hers. She noticed you still hadn’t unpacked everything and studied the words written on the carboard boxes – ‘costumes’, ‘plants’, ‘photos’, along with a few others before making her way to the lounge. Picking up the photographs displayed on the mantlepiece she studied them carefully, chuckling to herself at the one of you and your friends all dressed up in whacky costumes at a bar crawl in another country. You came in with dinner spotting her admiring your photos, “I need this story!” she exclaimed excitedly as she came to join you at the table. You ate and spoke about your girls trip to Vegas and how you came to be dressed up as a giant pea then moved to the sofa for this evening’s Love Island. Rachel told you how she’d lived in America for a bit and told stories about her time there whilst sharing the bottle of wine between you (and by share, she had one glass and you had the rest!) You watched the latest episode together, discussing who your faves are and who you think are snakey and after the programme finished Rachel said she had to leave early tomorrow so shouldn’t stay much longer. “Early shift tomorrow then?” you asked as you accompanied her to the front door, “something like that, I gotta go to Brighton” slipping her shoes back on you asked if she’s staying away tomorrow night. “No I’ll be home, probably pretty late though so don’t wait up for me” she winked in a jokey manner but it still made you feel a little flustered as she waved goodbye.

Over the coming weeks you and Rachel became closer friends, she had come round to help you unpack the rest of your boxes and had helped paint and decorate your spare room. Running around B&Q like children taking it in turns to push each other on the trolley turned into a bi-weekly activity to choose the bedding, lighting and paintings to add the final touches on the room. It had become a regular evening ritual to watch Love Island together when she was home and you found yourself missing her when she was away for work. You certainly didn’t think you’d end up being firm friends with one of your neighbours so quickly after moving in but you were grateful for the familiar comfort of someone you get on so well with on your venture alone.

Waking up late had become a frustrating habit of yours lately, it seemed that since moving out your routine was all over the place, once again rushing out of the door to get to work in time. Only this time, you’d forgotten something.. realising after the door slammed behind you that you hadn’t picked up your keys! Just like you did a few months ago when you moved in, screams exited your mouth and travelled up towards the sun coupled with your foot landing heavily onto your front tyre in frustration then sulked over to your friend’s house, ringing the doorbell hoping Rachel was awake. It didn’t look like she was as when she answered the door her hair looked dishevelled like she’d just woken up, Dexi under her arm whined for cuddles from you as you told her what had happened and asked to borrow her phone. The blonde invited you in and unlocked her phone for you to use as she went to get dressed, Dexi stayed with you as you stroked away the anger. While you waited for your mum to finish work to bring you the spare key she offered you a cup of tea, leading you out to her much bigger garden than yours to drink it. “Omg you have a hot tub?!” and just like that you’d forgotten your earlier woes. Walking up to admire the pool you dipped your hand inside to feel the warmth, spotting something else in your sight. “What the fuck is this this?” looking at a small looking pool with ICE written on the side. “An ice bath” she giggled watching you from the patio. “Why on earth would anyone need one of these?!” backing away from it like it was a deadly disease. “It’s good for you! Especially after working out!” she insisted. “Ah well, that explains why I’ve never heard of it then!” you laughed. “I could do a few sessions with you?” her words caused your face to screw up, that line reminding you that she really doesn’t know you at all. “I’ll just take the hot tub thanks” you said angelically as you sat back at the table with her. “Come over later then? Your mums here” looking at the alert on her phone that someone was at her front door.

“Am I underdressed?” you asked as Rachel opened the door to you in shorts and a shirt that was open and showing your bikini clad chest. Shaking her head with a smirk, “nah, you’re perfect” stepping aside to let you in, “you can jump in, I’m just watching the end of the football”. Deciding to wait for her you sat down to watch the end of the game, asking who was playing and making your lack of football knowledge very well known. As your friend shouted “offside!” at the TV a look of confusion wiped over your face, you had absolutely no idea what the offside rule was no matter (how many times someone tried to explain it to you – you just didn’t care enough to understand! “Who do you support then?” noticing Rachel took a while to pull her eyes away from the match to answer you, “well, Villa obviously – we live here!” she laughed, not bothering to ask you the same seeing as you’d made your disinterest for the game clear. You wondered why she was watching Chelsea v Tottenham if she doesn’t support them but didn’t dare ask, you didn’t want to be annoying so decided to go jump in the tub instead. Playing on your phone until Rachel made an appearance in just her bikini and shorts, quickly looking away after catching yourself looking her up and down hoping she didn’t notice. She did. “You can’t be awkward, I’ve literally seen you naked!” she laughed at your blushing again. “Don’t remind me!” your hand found your forehead in dismay, you’d actually forgotten that this is how your friendship started! “Didn’t fancy this one then?” she joked while sinking into her ice bath. “Nah I fancied the hot one” choking on your drink a little realising the sentence could mean the hot tub or Rachel, both were true regardless! “Who won then?” changing the subject quickly. “Chelsea, do you really not like football?” she asked. “I just don’t get it.. I went to the women’s final at Wembley last year though” you smiled, thinking that fact might interest her. “Really? You?!” she questioned with heavy sarcasm, she couldn’t imagine you at a match after everything you’ve said this evening. “Well my friends wanted to go and I thought why not, I didn’t have a clue what was going on but it was cool we won!” finally excited you could converse on something she was clearly interested in. “Yeah it was, I was there too!” she said, joining you in the hot tub. “Oh really, small world!” noticing a smirk on her face as you said that.

You’re not quite sure how the next part of the conversation started, she must have been trying to fill the silence.. to you it felt natural, being comfortable in silence with someone is truly a tell tale sign that you’re close with them but Rachel mustn’t of felt this way. “Have you seen the stars out here yet?” shaking your head in response to her random question. Being so far out from the city she said that you can see so many stars on a clear night, she loves sitting out here at nighttime watching them and gets sad when it’s cloudy. You shared your love for the moon, you’re a night owl and was excited at the prospect of seeing it more clearly. Looking up to see the sun setting you asked how long it takes for the stars to come out, kicking your feet out underneath the bubbles not realising her feet were out too as they grazed together. “Oh, err, sorry!” Rachel could sense your nervousness as you suddenly splashed your legs underneath you to sit them crossed. “It’s okay” the famous little smirk of hers shone through on her face - the one where the corners of her lips turn downwards slightly but the inside of her mouth smiled, an expression that is totally unique to her. Moving her arm around the back of you and balancing it on the edge of the tub she effortlessly scooched closer at the same time making your heart beat faster, trying to control your breathing hoping she wouldn’t notice it had accelerated into sharp intakes of breath.

Your weeknights had turned into a regular combination of Love Island and hot tubs, weeks passed by where you and Rachel’s friendship had grown closer and closer. Always in one of your houses together except when either of you had work, you’d even let Rach try to teach you the rules of football – she found a method to explain it in a way that makes sense to your brain.. it was either that or the fact you actually wanted to listen to the words coming out of her beautiful mouth.

Wolf whistles echoed around the block as your neck snapped to turn to the only place they could be coming from. It was the hottest day of the year and you were outside washing your car in your casual summer attire – an oversized check shirt that fell lower over your legs than the little denim shorts you’d become accustomed to in this weather, you’d unbuttoned your shirt in the heat and it was now barely hanging on to your arms. When you dried the water droplets on the bonnet so you could see your face in it you turned to lean up on your car like all the hot girls do in the music videos, your foot leant up on the grill and your arms folded as you looked over to Rachel standing in her garage door frame. Your tongue poked into your inner cheek before sliding out the corner of your mouth in a suggestive manner spotting her bare shoulders and arms you could hardly contain yourself. The flirting had become an expected part of your days and even though neither of you had ever said anything, it was obvious that there was something between you. “You done your work out yet?” you called over to her, watching her shake her head teasingly before replying to you, “why, do you wanna watch?” turning her back to face you as she loaded up her bars with weights. The offer was irresistible, especially as you knew ice baths and hot tubs always come after work outs! “Mayybeee” your word elongated as you swung on the door frame to the garage in a giddy way, watching her lie down on the bench as she started her reps and waiting for her to invite you in.. not that you needed permission anymore! Rolling out your chair for the hour you plopped yourself onto the exercise ball and wiggled your bum around as it moved across the floor. You’ve always had trouble sitting still but the bounciness of the ball kept you entertained for a while as you flicked through your phone. “Why don’t you work out?” she asked through heavy breaths as she neared the end of the reps on her first station of the day. “Why would I want to do that on purpose?” you answered bewildered as to why anyone would voluntarily put themselves through that. “So your body is strong?” was one of her reasons before listing off a few others. Giving in to her petty argument you decided to give her what she clearly wanted, “babes if you wanna watch me sweat you just gotta say” your voice turned cocky as you waltzed over to the treadmill at the opposite side of the room, noticing she moved stations to where the dumbbells were which was conveniently in front of a mirror so she could watch you.. even though she insisted she wasn’t! You can always feel if someone is watching you whether your back is turned or not and decided to play with her a little, taking your shirt off and throwing it into the corner of the room as you picked up pace. Rachel was watching you intently through the mirror, fixed on how your ponytail bounced with each step or how your shorts had risen higher up your legs.

You felt Rachel approach you from behind, coming to the side of the machine and leaning her arm up onto the display. “Do you like women (y/n)?” she asked maintaining eye contact as you continued to run. Her eyes tried to fix on yours like she was trying to read what you were going to say before it’s even been said, unable to avoid flicking between your face and your bikini clad chest bouncing in time with your pony tale. Biting her lip at the thoughts in her mind of wrapping her fist around your hair and pulling those shorts off of your cute body. “Are you dumb?” your tone sounding a little more harsh than intended, “I’m literally on this thing in a fucking bikini waiting for you to throw me across this room!” Rachel snorted at your sudden explosion of honesty, “so that’s why you don’t work out! You’re a pillow princess!” she teased causing you to slam your hand onto the display to stop the treadmill, letting it slip you off the end with your arms folded. “Say that again, I dare ya” you egged her on by getting up in her face as you said that, willing her to take you and take you now! If not to the bedroom at least to be dumped in the hot tub! She’d barely batted an eyelid when her sudden movements caught you off guard, throwing your body over her shoulder she pulled down the garage door and carried you up stairs, slapping your butt then threw you down the bed, pinning your arms to the mattress beneath her, “that’s why I work out!” her cocky voice made you wince, releasing months of worked up sexual tension in a night of passion.

A few days later you were putting your bins out when you heard drilling come from the other side of the block. “Oi oi!” calling out as you approached the garage, Rachel appeared within seconds holding a drill in one hand and leaning up on the frame with the other. Blowing the tip of her drill like she’d just shot someone with a gun. “Hey sexy” she leant down to kiss you with as much passion as you shared the other night, “come for round two have ya?” smirking as she pulled you into the garage. “Are you gonna put that down first?” cautiously nodding towards the electric tool still in her hand. As she bent down to place it on the ground your eyes were drawn towards the wall where she had been hanging things up. Spotting your gaze fixed on the frames her breathing stopped in anticipation of the next thing to come out of your mouth. Your eyes glanced from shirt to shirt with DALY written on the back of every single one until your brain clicked all the pieces together. “Rachel Daly! “That’s why I recognised you! That’s why your shifts are all over the place!” your hands clapped over your mouth as her facial expression stayed neutral waiting for you to finish gawping. “I prefer people get to know me before the footballer” she said with nervousness tinged in her words, “I prefer people get to know me before they see me naked!” you laughed, slapping her shoulder which showed absolutely nothing had changed. “Tell me about them” taking her hand and standing in front of the first shirt with her, the one that looked the most faded and aged. “You’re actually interested?” her arm draped over your shoulder, using her other hand to softly swipe the beach wavy hair from your eyes. Looking up at her you nodded enthusiastically as she started to talk about her life you knew nothing about, “well this one is from Leeds, they were my first team when I was 15..” she started her story which lead well into the night, you listened intently the entire time, intrigued with the life that she had felt compelled to keep hidden.

#rachel daly #rachel daly x reader #woso x reader #woso masterlist #aston villa wfc #lionesses #lionesses x reader #woso fic #woso community #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso fanfics #wlw fanfic

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heich0e · 1 year

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bright - vash/f!reader/wolfwood (trigun stampede) 2k, part 3 of poly!au, wild west!au, bounty hunters, wolfwood calls reader 'kid' as a petname, this is just sweet n fluffy and nothing is bad (for now...), alexa play home on the range BOUND - poly!au masterlist

it’s been two days since nicholas and vash returned.

well, two nights and one day, technically, but it all seems to bleed together—the seconds since the two crept through the door at midnight passing slow and sticky-sweet like honey. half the day following their homecoming was spent asleep, just a pile of tangled limbs and warm skin together in your shared bed, and the remaining hours had been spent in that same place as well—though your activities had been far from restful. your body is left tender and heavy and tired as you make up for the day’s work you’d neglected, but those aches are sweet too in their own way; a reminder as sure and tangible as any that your boys are home.

the day is hot, like most days are on the little homestead where you dwell, and the sun beats down on you oppressively from overhead. at the clothesline, you find some reprieve hiding in the shadows cast by the sheets you’re hanging out to dry, catching in the warm breeze and fluttering as it passes. you’ve got a few more pieces of bedlinen to hang waiting in the basket at your feet, freshly washed and then wrung out until they were a manageable degree of sopping, and you wipe the sweat from your brow before you stoop down to reach for the next one in the pile.

on the front porch, nicholas watches your every move from his favourite rocking chair. you feel his eyes on you even when your back is turned to him.

“hey,” you call back to him dryly, turning and squinting against the brightness as you peer across the yard in his direction. he perks up when you acknowledge him, a brow drawn up in question. “you gonna help me with this? or at the very least pay for the show?”

nicholas stands, laughing a little at your lip, and hops off the edge of the raised porch to saunter over to you at the clothesline.

“pay for the show?” he asks, dipping down so he’s near to you under the brim of your sunhat. his nose is almost brushing yours, so close you think he might even kiss you, but suddenly he snags the next blanket from the wash basket and slinks back again. he shoots you a pointed look as he unfurls the sheet, something akin to a scowl though not quite as severe. “with what money?”

you pucker your lips slightly. he’s not wrong—the purse you keep tucked safely away in the back of your chest of drawers has gotten dangerously light these days—but he doesn’t need to say it like that.

“i can’t believe he blew another fucking job for us,” nicholas mutters with a derisive tch as the two of you work to fasten the wide cotton bed sheet to the line; stretching it out between your bodies until the full width separates you. you struggle to keep it secure as the damp edges flap in the wind.

you clip your side of the linen down with a clothespin, and then hand him another from the edge of your apron so that he can do the same. he takes the pin without comment, his rough fingers brushing yours as they close around it and pluck it from your grasp.

“you know how he is, nico,” you say quietly, as you have many times in the past. “vash sees the best in people. he just wants to help them.”

“you can’t help wanted criminals,” nicholas bites sharply, pinning his side of the sheet down with an undue amount of force—the rest of the line bouncing lightly from how he’d jostled the length of cord.

you pause.

“we did.”

he huffs, shooting you a resentful look—half-guilty and half-frustrated, all because he knows you’re right.

“that’s different,” he murmurs.

“it’s not,” you counter, the wind lifting the edge of your skirt as it blows past, your eyes remaining unwaveringly fixed to his.

nicholas lets out a weary sigh to be caught and swept away by the breeze, rubbing at the back of his tanned neck as his body slackens in defeat. he stoops down and reaches for the next sheet in the basket.

the two of you work side by side in silence for a while, emptying the basket and filling up the clothesline. there’s nothing around you but the sound of the midday wind whistling through the valley, just the silence you’ve grown used to now after so long. vash went into town that morning to run some errands, so as it stands you and nicholas are the only people around for miles.

“i’ll look for some more jobs in town to help make ends meet,” you say as you reach up with another clothespin in hand and secure the hem of one of your nightdresses down against the twine of the line. you reach over and do the same to the other side, angling into nicholas’ space as he holds the garment safely in place. “not like there’s any shortage of bullet wounds to patch up around here.”

nicholas catches the brim of your hat between his fingers, tilting it back so he can stare you clearly in the face.

“you’re not going around stitching up strange men,” he says firmly, something possessive and protective in his staunch, unswayable tone. “that’s the rule.”

you huff, your nose scrunching in a weak glare. it’s a rule you'd set for yourself years ago, long before nicholas stumbled into your life: you only tend to the medical needs of the town’s women, no exceptions. this guiding principle is as much for your own sake as it is for theirs, but the local women aren’t the ones running around getting shot in the first place, so while the rule is one that you’ve operated under for as long as you’ve been taking on odd doctoring jobs, lately it’s been holding you back—money’s never been this tight, so there’s never been a reason to change it, but things are different now.

“the girls don’t need me much these days,” you mumble softly, and it’s true: since you started helping more and more of the women in town (beyond just big annie’s working girls,) their overall wellness has improved significantly, which consequently means they don't need to see you nearly as much. “i’ve been taking good care of them.”

nicholas smiles then, a crooked, fond expression—as proud as it is warm. “yeah, you have.”

he lets his grip on your hat fall and leans away, and you do the same—stepping back around to the other side of the basket where you’d started. nicholas snags a cigarette from the holder he keeps on him at all times and pinches it between his lips, then starts fumbling around his pockets for a match.

you look out at the property around you; your little house on one side of the yard, the stable on the other, with the old well pump poised halfway in-between. you’re insulated from the worst of the heat and the elements in this little valley just outside of town, craggy rock formations stretching in a ring around your little homestead, protected on every side. you’ve even got a few meagre patches of green down here, beyond all the brush and bramble.

it’s not much but it’s something; it’s yours and it’s home.

you turn to your husband, still digging around in his pockets for a match, and you pluck his sad little cigarette from his lips unceremoniously. nicholas looks down at you in surprise, finding you suddenly toe-to-toe with him again. this time you’re softer. this time you’re gentler as you intrude upon his space.

“we’ll make it work, nico,” you say to him with fluttering lashes and a tender gaze, tilting your face up towards his. you fiddle with the cigarette idly, watching the way the gold band on your finger glints in the sunlight. his eyes never stray from your face. “just like we always do.”

“hey!”

both you and the dark-haired man before you’s eyes snap to the other side of the valley at the loud, excited greeting that echoes through the yard. at the top of the beaten dirt path that leads in the direction of town, vash is approaching on horseback. he’s waving his arms overhead, moving at a quick canter like he’s eager to get to you.

nicholas laughs under his breath at the sight. he steals his cigarette back from your still outstretched hand, tucking it quickly behind his ear, and his hand finds the small of your back. the two of you make your way towards the edge of the property to meet vash upon his arrival, watching as his mare paws at the ground when her rider pulls the reins to a stop.

“what’s all this?” you ask, your eyes tracing curiously over the array of goods that vash has hanging from his saddle. there’s food—you see some local vegetables and jars of pickles and jam—and a bolt of cloth that you can make out right away. he’s hours later returning home than you expected him to be when he departed that morning, and clearly he’d been busy.

vash hops down from his saddle, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek and then another to nicholas’s.

“what the hell have you been up to?” nicholas asks warily, his lips pulled into a thin line as he scrubs at the spot on his cheek vash had kissed—as though you aren't all perfectly aware of the pleased flush staining the tips of his ears. nicholas has every reason to be wary: vash hadn’t taken much money into town with him, just enough for the few errands he had to run, certainly not enough to explain the splendours he’d returned with.

“you know all the old ladies who sit outside the general store playing bridge?” the blonde asks, his eyes bright behind the lenses of his glasses as he ruffles his untidy hair. “well, one of them stopped me when i was leaving town and asked if i could help put one of her shutters back on since it blew off in that storm last week! once that was done, another one asked if i could look at her well pump because it’s been squeaking so much lately and too hard to turn. i helped out a couple other people while i was in town too! i told them they didn’t have to, but they kept giving me stuff when i was done.”

you feel a smile tug at your lips, peeking over at nicholas beside you to gauge his own reaction. his expression is flat, but you can tell he’s just as amused as you are.

“oh!” vash perks up, his eyes wide. he reaches into the saddle bag and pulls out the bolt of blue fabric you’d been appreciating a moment prior. “this isn’t from them though, it’s from that young couple who live above the post office.”

you know the couple he’s referring to well. they’d just had a baby a few months before, and you’d helped the young wife through her pregnancy and caught the baby when labour finally came. it was a little boy, no bigger than a loaf of bread the first time you’d held him, that they’d named samuel.

“sammy’s getting big”—vash grins, squishing his own cheeks a little bit with his hands—“super cute and chubby too. they wanted you to have this to say thank you.”

he passes the fabric to you, and you cradle the tightly-wound bundle into the crook of your arm like it’s precious—because it is.

the things vash brought home aren’t enough to live off of indefinitely, but it’s something to help you get by for another little while—at least until another bounty comes through for the boys, or until another mother needs your hand to hold through the quickening of labour.

it’s something.

it’s enough for now.

you shoot nicholas a little smirk and he rolls his eyes at your blatant self-satisfaction, at your smugness that you’d been right about finding a way to get by. he looks over at vash who’s watching you both with expectant eyes, waiting eagerly (though perhaps unconsciously) for praise.

after a moment, nicholas plops a hand down into vash’s hair, ruffling it affectionately.

“good job,” he murmurs wryly, removing his hand and pressing a fleeting kiss to the crown he’d just been mussing. vash’s cheeks go pink and pretty at the gesture, teeming with pride. nicholas looks over at you next. “you too, kid.”

you smile, not as brilliant or beaming as vash’s, but with a happiness that’s every bit as sincere.

#vash the stampede x reader #vash x reader #nicholas d wolfwood x reader #trigun writing #trigun drabble #poly vashwood #writing

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alittlebitofsainz · 14 days

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a place in this world (carlos’ version)

chapter 4: electric touch

summary: you’ve spent your entire career at mclaren, are you really willing to risk it all at a new team for carlos? or would it be safer, easier, to stay at the team that you’ve called home for so long? besides, daniel seems excited about your partnership next year, maybe taking a chance on a stranger could prove more interesting than you imagined…

pairing: carlos sainz x f!reader or daniel ricciardo x f!reader, depending on what your choices are

warnings: none other than swearing

masterlist | chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4

8th november, 2020

alexa, play deja vu by beyoncé (featuring jay-z) on spotify.

another rainy morning in the UK, another trip west round the m25, another accident at potters bar, another driver texting you from an unknown number. more questions going round in your head, why did lando even have your number? and you were ten minutes late again, what was this, fucking groundhog day? you sat and read the text over and over in the car, a smile forming on your lips as you realised you’d gotten a text from the daniel ricciardo. the same daniel ricciardo you’d been watching in formula one since you were a teenager. crazy how life works out sometimes.

a notification pinged through at the top of your phone as you read daniel’s message through for the sixth time, and you frowned, head snapping up to look out your drivers window, immediately spotting carlos in the car next to you. you were sure that spot had been empty when you’d pulled up; he must have only just arrived. you flashed him a grin, shoving your phone into your bag, before shaking your head and mouthing ‘nothing’ at carlos in reply to his question.

you’d been walking in to the factory together recently, whenever you’d arrived around the same time. it was a good chance to catch up on any work related things, or potentially non work related things (the kick off of the FA cup was the chosen topic for most mornings this week). but this morning, you had an unexpected third member join the walk in.

“hey guys, wait up!”

both your heads turned at the familiar australian accent, his trademark grin adorning his face and his curls blowing slightly out of place in the breeze. he had his arm raised in a wave. you waved back. carlos didn’t.

“hey, daniel!” you greeted him as he jogged down the gravel path of the mclaren technology centre to catch up with the pair of you.

“hey, y/n! did you get my text?” daniel asked. carlos shot you a glance, but you elected to ignore it.

“yeah, sorry I didn’t get a chance to respond - I was driving and I’ve literally just rocked up.”

daniel fell into step in between you and carlos, his smile still as wide as when he’d first spotted you. you could’ve been imagining it, but you felt as if carlos picked up his pace just a little bit, leaving you and daniel lagging slightly behind.

“ah, yeah, no, no worries. I was starting to wonder whether lando had given me the wrong number as a joke or something.” daniel explained.

“I didn’t know lando had your number.” carlos muttered from several paces in front of you. what had gotten into him today? just a few moments ago you were laughing and joking together - it was almost as if his mood had completely changed when daniel arrived. was he… jealous? you scoffed internally at the thought.

“neither did I!” you replied, trying to keep the tone light, shooting a grin at daniel, who hadn’t seemed to have picked up on any tension whatsoever, mirroring your wide smile.

“well, I thought I ought to get to know my race engineer for next year. from what I’ve heard, I’m lucky to have her, ey?” daniel said as you continued towards the factory entrance.

if carlos had realised daniel’s words were directed at him, he gave no indication that he’d even heard them. instead, he just walked that little bit faster.

carlos begrudgingly sat down opposite her.

“stop looking around. daniel’s in a meeting, he’s not gonna come and crash our lunch.”

carlos sighed, turning his head back round to face her. she could read him like a fucking book by now.

“I’m sorry, it’s just-“ he stopped himself, taking a mouthful of lasagne before looking back up at her. her eyes were trained on him, ready to listen.

“it’s just that, well, it’s hard, you know?” he swallowed his mouthful of lasange and continued, “I don’t like the idea of you being someone else’s engineer next year. it’s like… like someone’s stealing my best friend.”

to his surprise, she reached an arm out across the table, covering his hand with her own. her eyes were full of sincerity.

“carlos, whatever happens, you’re not losing me. we’ll still be friends.”

her touch felt like electricity, sparks jolting through her fingertips and firing a million neurones in carlos’ brain. ‘we’ll still be friends’. just friends my ass - shut up lando! in that moment there were so many things he wanted to talk about with her, he just wished they weren’t in the very public space of the mclaren technology centre cafeteria. he wanted to make sure they were on the same page, heck, whether they were even on the same chapter in the same book. but at that moment his phone rang. mattia binotto is calling. something told carlos that this moment could change everything.

“sorry, I have to take this.”

JOIN CARLOS AT FERRARI

STAY AT MCLAREN WITH DANIEL

taglist: @itsjustkhaos @bicchaan @luvvtrent

comment/message if you want to be added!

#carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x female reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x y/n

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skiller0dani · 1 year

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The Noble House of Gaunt | Ominis Gaunt

M A S T E R L I S T Other Masterlist Harry Potter Masterlist

angst | slytherin!reader requests info w.c | 4.9k summary | An unexpected visit proves to Ominis that as long as you, a Muggle, love him...you'll never be safe.

Alexa play Ready to Run by One Direction & All I want by Kodaline.

My Aunt Tara passed away from cancer in December, so I chose to name your characters Aunt after her. Love you Aunt Tara.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Blurb

Ominis always knew that being with you would put you in danger, with him being who he is and you being who you are. Blood status has never mattered to him, he knew you were a Muggle before you presented a magical ability when you turned 15. He knew you knew nothing of magic before coming to Hogwarts, and he didn't care. He had every intention of keeping his distance when you were sorted into Slytherin- as he did with most people. Ominis has a reputation among most of the students who attend Hogwarts. They knew who his family was, knew that they did to Muggles. He was ashamed to have their name.

The only two people who didn't flinch away from Ominis in the hallway's or duck into empty corridors to avoid him were Sebastian and Anne. The siblings he desperately wished he had instead of the family he was stuck with. It was halfway through First Year when Ominis stopped going home, and yes he had received more than a few Howlers from his Mother as a result. By the time they were in Second Year, most Slytherin students had dropped all misconceptions of Ominis, the rest of the school remained wary however. He didn't blame them.

Ominis had planned on keeping his friend circle fairly small, he wanted to pass through Hogwarts as small and unseen as he could. He spent most of his time with the Twins, and Imelda occasionally. He spent 4 uneventful years at Hogwarts, save for Anne getting cursed by the Goblins. As soon as Sebastian lost his Twin, he became obsessed with curing her. His obsession was slowly leading him towards the Dark Arts and down a path Ominis wasn't sure he could follow. His already small social circle seemed to keep shrinking and there was nothing he could do about it. It was a maddeningly helpless feeling, although not one Ominis was unfamiliar with.

Being born blind meant Ominis was born at a disadvantage. He was behind most of his pupils and that meant he had to work doubly hard to catch up. Learn how to do things differently, and it was important for Ominis to be independent. He was determined to figure things out on his own, he was nobodies burden and often rejected help if it was offered to him. Maybe it's because he's stubborn, maybe it's because Ominis has a hard time trusting other people. His Mother drug him all across England in search for anything that could cure his blindness, but time and time again his Mother was told there was nothing that could be done for him. That perhaps if his family hadn't partaken in incestuous habits, then Ominis wouldn't have been born with this defect. Hearing that made Ominis hate his family all the more, he's blind and they are to blame. Paying the price for a choice he never made, it wasn't fair.

By the time Ominis turned 11, he had received his Hogwarts letter and went to get his very own wand. Apparently the wand that chose Ominis had been sitting on the shelf untouched for many many years, harshly rejecting any that attempted to buy it. It was meant for you boy Mr. Ollivander had told him. The wand chooses the wizard, that much Ominis knew. His wand was different, even Mr. Ollivander seemed in awe of the bond between Ominis and his wand. His wand became his eyes, it helped him navigate the world, and every spell he cast would hit its target. The wand would help correct Ominis's aim, would pulse if he were about to bump into something. His wand began to feel like a friend. Ominis was very excited about his wand, his Mother was less so. She wanted her son to be perfect, not blind with a wonky wand.

Going to Hogwarts felt like a blessing, he could spend 10 beautiful months away from his family. Luckily Ominis's older siblings had all graduated by the time he started Hogwarts, he only shared one year with his older brother Marvolo who was a 7th Year when Ominis started. After he graduated Ominis knew he was finally free, and for once he felt like happiness was finally possible despite the horrors he endured during his childhood. Then he met you, and so many things seemed to fall into place.

He originally met you through Sebastian, who you'd beaten in a duel on your first day. He was rather prickly when you first met Ominis, but Sebastian reassured you that Ominis is like that with everybody. You made it a personal goal to break down Ominis's walls, his heart was more well guarded than Azkaban. But unfortunately for him you were never one to back down from a challenge, and you knew there was something about Ominis you were helplessly drawn to. You spent nearly every waking moment with Ominis, well when you weren't running around crypts with Sebastian.

You spent a lot of time reading to Ominis, and while he didn't need your help reading he liked the sound of your voice. He read braille books, and Madam Scribner had been more than gracious enough to order over 150 braille books specifically for Ominis, seeing as he was the only blind student attending Hogwarts. But sitting down in front of the fireplace with you while the soft sound of your voice read whatever book you were reading aloud was addicting. Sitting close enough to smell the scent of your shampoo, the strawberry tarts you so loved, the smell of old parchment as you flipped through the book. Ominis was developing feelings for you before he had a chance to stop it. By the end of 5th Year, the two of you were inseparable.

Then he learned you were Muggle born, though it wasn't something you were trying to hide. You never mentioned it before because nobody had ever asked. You lived with your Muggle Aunt before coming to Hogwarts, both of your parents had been killed when you were a small child. Perhaps that's why you bonded with Sebastian so quickly. To say that Ominis was panicked when he learned of your blood status was an understatement. What if his parents found out he was dating a Muggle? What would they do to you? He couldn't care less what they thought of him, what they did to him. All that mattered to Ominis was you.

"You sure you're okay?" You ask Ominis again, bumping your nose tenderly against his. Something you learned about Ominis after you started dating him is that physical touch is very important to him. He always has to be touching you in some way, holding your hand, pressing his forehead against yours, light kisses when nobody is looking. Besides his super sonic hearing, touch was one of his strongest senses. It's how he navigated the world, through touch and after you got together you'd allowed Ominis to run his hands over your body. His fingers gently feeling out the shape of your face, down your arms and across your back. Goosebumps had risen on your skin, and your face flushed hotly. If Ominis could see, then he would have known where your thoughts traveled to as he innocently felt the shape of your body. All he was trying to do was get a sense of what you looked like, to picture every curve of your body the best he could. You were head over heels for him, no doubt about it.

"Yes of course, couldn't sleep last night is all." Ominis answered, his chest warming as you gently nuzzled your nose against his. You leaned forward to tenderly press your lips against his, your hand squeezing his before you stood from the couch. The common room was bustling with people, Ominis was a tad overwhelmed with so much noise. Large groups of people are when Ominis struggled the most, his hearing was very sensitive and listening to so many people talk at once was sometimes disorienting. Which is why he spent so much time tucked away in the abandoned corners of the castle, where everything was soft and quiet. He could no longer feel the heat of your body pressed against his, you hadn't even said goodbye yet and he already missed you.

"Gotta go meet Imelda, wants my help preparing for Quidditch tryouts- y'know now that Black has finally lifted the ban. See you at lunch!" You explain, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before he hears your footsteps heading towards the stairs. Ominis sat on the couch, nervously fiddling with his fingers before he finally stood. He thought about finding Sebastian, but he wasn't quite ready to forgive him for the events of last year. Anne is still utterly devastated, and Ominis felt a pang of guilt when he thought of Anne. He had gone to check on her during the break between 5th Year and 6th Year, and she had confessed to having feelings for Ominis. He remembered his cheeks burning all the way to the tips of his ears as he stammered out that he'd been dating you for a few weeks already. He'll never forget how Anne deflated, how he had caused it. He felt awful about it for days.

Instead of looking for his used to be best friend, he decided to take a stroll along the castle grounds. It was nice outside, you had told him. The sun was out and the breeze was light and warm, and sometimes being outside helped clear his head. You still hung out with Sebastian, you cared for him which worried Ominis at first. He never thought of himself as the jealous type but seeing you spend so much time with Sebastian genuinely worried him. Until you reassured him with a kiss that Sebastian was practically your brother. You were an only child, had no extended family beyond your Aunt Tara. Ominis didn't like to admit it, but he often felt inadequate compared to other guys. He had a defect...he was defective. He knew you'd scold him heavily for ever thinking of himself in that way but its true. Sebastian had described you to him during 5th Year, and Ominis so wished he could see your radiant beauty he'd heard so much about from other people.

You usually reminded him that he could see a beauty in you that nobody else could see. Told him he could see into your soul, that he could see what truly mattered. That usually made him feel better.

Ominis stepped through the front doors, thanking the person who had held the doors open for him. It was easy for other people to assume that Ominis couldn't do basic things, like figuring out how to open a door. He reveled in proving them wrong. He felt the warm breeze you described to him, and would respond with a smile as people greeted him. The rest of the school had warmed up to Ominis considerably after discovering that he was dating the 'Hero of Hogwarts'. You made every part of his life better. Although it was slightly irritating having to converse with people so often, they felt the need to incessantly talk to him. He wasn't trying to be rude, he just preferred to keep to himself. Oh come on Ominis, don't be like that. He can hear your gentle scolding in his head, so he continued to smile politely every time someone said hello.

"Hello Ominis dear, I've been looking everywhere for you." A smooth voice spoke calmly from in front of him, and Ominis prickled at the sound of her voice.

"M-Mother?" He stammered, he suddenly felt very small and helpless. The hand holding up his wand dropped limply at his side, his entire body was shaking from head to toe. Why is she here? What could she possibly want? There's no way she found out about you...no this can't be happening.

"It's been a long time Ominis, you wouldn't be avoiding us would you? Your own family..." Her voice was worryingly calm, it put Ominis on edge. He heard the click of her heels as she took a few slow steps forward, her cold finger running along his jaw.

"I've heard some troublesome rumors Ominis, troublesome enough to warrant a visit." The venom was beginning to seep into her tone now, but she was still far too calm. There must be people around.

"I've heard you've found a special someone, and you didn't tell your own Mother. Ominis I thought I raised you better than that...consorting with a Mudblood. You haven't mated with it have you?" She asked, tutting at him. Her finger turned his jaw up, forcing him to face her. She stared into his glassy eyes, fogged over and covering the beautiful blue of his eyes. She could see the fear in his face, could feel his body trembling. It brought a smile to her face. Ominis's chest tightened, she is here because of you. If Mother is here, then so is Father and likely so is Marvolo. He had always done all he could to please his parents, he was just as evil as they were- if not worse. His other siblings were likely off causing strife and misery elsewhere.

"I...we-" Ominis stammered, his voice shaking. He needed to somehow convince her the rumors were wrong. He wasn't dating a Muggle, no no the rumors were wrong. That's the only hope you have of being safe. "No, no I'm not seeing anyone."

"Don't lie to me you pathetic child." She snapped, her nails digging into the skin of his neck. He's sure her other hand is curled around her wand, the spell he's the most afraid of dancing on the tip of her tongue.

Crucio.

His heart drops into his stomach, he loves you. That was incredibly selfish of him, he put you in danger every time he spoke to you, held you, kissed you and yet he continued to do it. He couldn't stay away, you made his life so much better. He should have stayed away.

"The Mudblood has corrupted you Ominis, did you not take pleasure in their screams? You remember don't you Ominis, what it felt like to hurt them." She sneered, a lightness in her tone as she spoke of the torture Ominis tries to desperately to forget. His jaw clenches and his palms twitch every time she calls you a Mudblood. He could never see you that way. His Mother is going to hurt you, and it's because of him. All of this is Ominis's fault.

"As fun as it is to catch up, I'm here to warn you dear. In 5 days I will return with your Father and your dear brother Marvolo. You have until then to severe all ties to this Mudblood, or we will deal with her ourselves. I don't like you'll approve of our methods of removal." She explained, turning Ominis's blood to ice. Crucio. He can't let that happen to you, he can't. The thought of breaking up with you made him feel nauseous, but the alternative is much much worse. Her hand ran along his cheek, feigning the touch of a loving Mother. She leaned down to press her cold lips to his forehead.

"Don't disappoint me again Ominis, or your precious little Mudblood will pay the price. I do wonder what beautiful screams we can pull from her lips..." She muses before the air changes and she's gone. Ominis slowly crumples to the ground, tears falling from his eyes. Sometimes he thinks it would have been easier if he'd never been born.

When lunch time came around, you looked around the Great Hall for Ominis but couldn't see him anywhere. You feel a pang of anxiety in your chest as you hesitantly sit with Imelda, your eyes glued to the doors, hoping you'll see him. Ominis is never late, never keeps you waiting. He always meets you when he says he will, always. So the fact that you're nearly halfway through lunch and you still don't see him is making you panic. Imelda eyes you curiously, at first you hated Imelda. She was unbearable and rude to you but once you'd beaten her fastest times she softened. She's become one of your closest friends, as has Poppy. Imelda watches you nervously chew on your cheek, your eyes still searching for him.

"What's wrong with you?" She asks, watching your distracted eyes flicker to her for a second.

"Ominis, he isn't here." You say nervously, forking another bite of mashed potatoes into your mouth.

"I'm sure he's fine. He's smart, and he wouldn't put himself in any danger." She tries her best to reassure you, but you're not really listening. You wait a few more minutes before you're standing from the table and heading back to the common room as fast as you can. You don't know why you're so worried, surely him forgetting this once doesn't mean something bad has happened. He's fine you know he is, and yet your heart will not stop hammering against your ribcage. Your palms are shaking as you push the doors to the common room open, you will tear this entire castle apart to find him if you have to. Ominis is easily the most punctual person you know, never late to classes, turns in assignments on time, and always meets you when he says he will. Always.

You find him sitting in front of the fireplace, his shoulders slumped and traces of dried tears on his cheeks. Your entire body tenses, panic crawling up your neck. Something happened, something bad. Ominis never shuts down like this, and he never shuts you out but now...you feel like a wall has been built between you two. You can't read him as easily as you could before, he's retreating from you and you don't know why. He can hear you before you sit next to him, can smell the sweet scent of the shampoo you use. You always smell like sweets and flowers, he's going to miss that.

"Ominis, my love what's wrong? You didn't meet me for lunch..." You ask hesitantly, reaching for his hand. He doesn't say anything, doesn't turn his head at the sound of your voice like he usually does. Ominis knows that if he speaks, the only thing he will say is going to break your heart- and his own. He has no choice, but he wants to put it off as long as he can. He feels you reaching for his hand and he lets you take it. He wants to feel the warmth of your skin, of your love, until he can't anymore.

"Ominis please talk to me, you're scaring me." You plead, and he can hear the emotion in your voice. You try in vain to keep the tears at bay, but they continue to fall every time you blink. Something really bad happened, you can see how shaken up he is. Please don't push me away you beg in your head, screaming it so loud hoping somehow he will hear it. He won't even move, his gaze downturned and his entire body slumped against the couch. Who did this to him? You feel anger surge through you, somebody hurt him. Somebody did this to him.

"I can't see you anymore." The words are whispered so quietly you almost miss them. But as soon as he says it, he's pulling his hand from your grasp.

Wait, what?

"Ominis..." You trail off, you feel frozen. Your heart is breaking and you can swear you feel the pain of it. He turns his head away from you, building his wall brick by brick, the wall you spent so much time tearing down. You need to know what happened, everything was fine this morning.

"Why?" Your voice sounds so small, so broken, nothing like the strong girl he's come to love. He hates that he's doing this to you, but then Ominis can hear the echoing screams of the Muggle's his family has tortured in his head. Reminding him why he's doing this, why he has to push you away. Why he needs to make sure you stay away.

"I'm better alone, I always have been." Ominis says, keeping his voice void of emotion. Maybe that used to be true, but it isn't anymore. He knows he's going to be lost without you, but he needs to keep you safe. He has to. He stands from the couch, keeping his back turned to you. Ensuring you can't see how broken he is, how much this hurts him too.

"No, I deserve a better explanation than that. There's more to it Ominis, tell me the truth." You plead, voice wavering as tears continue to cascade down your face. He can't tell you, he wants to but he can't. He doesn't want you to be afraid, but more importantly he wants you to stay away from him. If he tells you the truth... you'll try to help him. Try to protect him, you'll stay with him regardless of the danger.

So when you say, "have you found someone else?"

He doesn't deny it, he simply nods. He could never find someone who could compete with you. Nobody on this useless planet could ever come close, but if you believe he's a scumbag who cheated on you then you'll definitely stay away. Which is what will keep you safe. He can hear you gasp, as if he's wounded you. In a way, he has. Your hand clutches your chest, feeling it tighten. You never thought Ominis was capable of...of this. Of hurting you in this way, you trusted him. All this time he's been falling in love with some other girl, holding your hand while thinking of her. You feel sick, so sick you can't stand to be around him any longer. You turn and rush up the stairs to your dorm room, slamming the door shut behind you. Ominis hears you leave and he slumps against the couch again.

He hates himself, and he loves you. Not like it matters anymore.

The next 5 days were spent with you actively avoiding Ominis whenever you saw him in the common room or hallway. You barely ate, hardly left your dorm except to go to classes. You spent most of your time crying or sleeping. Imelda tried to talk to you, but you always brushed her off. She even tried reaching out to Ominis but got nearly the exact same response. You told her what Ominis said, that there was somebody else but she thinks that's a load of crap. For the last few days, Ominis has been sulking around doing the same thing you were doing. Not eating, not leaving his dorm and going to classes. If there was somebody else, wouldn't he be with her? Not sitting in the common room with a kicked puppy look on his face?

Imelda couldn't even bring herself to be angry with Ominis because anybody with at least 1 working braincell could tell that Ominis most certainly didn't cheat on you. There's more to this, she knows there is and for your sake she wants to find out what's going on. He's never been seen with anybody else, doesn't really have friends except the Twins and he hadn't even been seen with Sebastian lately either...an idea struck Imelda then.

Sebastian!

If anybody could find out what's going on in Ominis's head, it's Sebastian. Last she saw he was heading towards the Library, so Imelda stands and exits the common room, finally leaving Ominis alone. He knows it's nearly time for his wonderful family to drop in and make sure he's taken care of the...problem. So he stands and straightens his cloak and does his best to look like he isn't stuck in the deep pits of depression. If he looks heartbroken they'll know you matter to him, and they'll punish you for it. He hears your cries every time he wanders by your dorm, he knows you never leave the dorm, knows you're barely eating. Its beginning to scare him, he doesn't want you to hurt yourself because you're so heartbroken. Ominis never meant to hurt you, he wished he could tell you that.

Imelda finally found Sebastian tucked away in the upper levels of the Library, sitting near one of the windows with a book he isn't reading in his hand. She quickly makes her way towards him, plopping herself down in one of the chairs next to him before he could protest. One of his brows raised in surprise, his expression apprehensive. Imelda never talks to him.

"Imelda." He says simply, his eyes turning to his book.

"I need your help." She says simply, causing Sebastian to look back up at her, signaling that he's listening.

"Ominis broke up with Y/N, and they're both totally devastated. He said it was because he met someone else but I think he's lying to cover something else up." Imelda rushes out, causing Sebastian to finally put his book down. Sebastian's eyebrows pull together, met someone else? No way.

"Ominis practically hates everybody except for Y/N and Anne so its unlikely that he met someone else. Why do you think I can help?" He asks, he wants to help. He loves Ominis, he's practically Sebastian's brother and you're practically his sister. He cant sit around and do nothing while you're both suffering. But he doesn't think Ominis will want to speak to him right now... not after last year.

"Uh because you're his best friend? Talk to him, please." Imelda asks, her tone pleading. Eventually, Sebastian nods and stands to go find Ominis.

Ominis however is pushing his way out the front doors, making his way through the castle grounds. He isn't sure exactly where his family will meet him, but he's sure it'll be somewhere away from the castle grounds. He continues to walk, his ear straining to hear anything when he hears the familiar sound of someone apparating nearby.

"Hello brother." Marvolo taunted, and Ominis knows Mother and Father are here as well. Ominis's body went rigid, but he did his best to stay calm. As long as he tells them what they want to hear they won't hurt you.

"Marvolo." Ominis's tone is clipped and he hears a chuckle from behind him.

"Come now Ominis, don't be like that." His Father says, his words mirroring your own and causing a pang of pain through his heart. A hand is placed on his shoulder, icy cold.

"Hello dear, have you handled your little problem?" Mother asks, running her hands along his shoulders and he can feel her breath fanning on his neck. She must be leaning close to his ear from behind him.

"Yes Mother I have." Ominis forces his voice to sound certain and unwavering. He can't allow any emotion in his voice or on his face when he talks about you.

"And how do you feel now my darling?" There's that tone again, the tone she only uses when he's said something that makes her happy. When he's being the cruel boy she expects him to be.

"Much better, you were right all along about her." Ominis says simply, feeling sullen and dejected. Her hands cup his face, forcing his head up to look at her.

"Your face looks sunken in dear, have you been well?" His Mother asks, although Ominis knows she doesn't really care.

"Yes Mother, quite." He responds robotically, and it seems to be enough to satisfy her. A groan comes from Marvolo, who's crossed his arms like a pouting child.

"Does that mean we don't get to torture the Mudblood?" He asks, sounding genuinely put off.

"Oh hush now Marvolo, we shall find another for you to play with on our way home. Care to join us Ominis?" His Mother scolds lightly, her tone gentler when she addresses Ominis. He feels his stomach turn.

"No Mother, too many assignments I'm afraid." He says calmly, hoping she accepts his no and lets him go. Please just go.

"Very well, we will continue to check up on you Ominis. To ensure you don't fall pray to weakness." His Mother says, her voice sharp and dangerous at the end. He merely nods and a few moments later they're gone.

"So that's why you did it." Sebastian says from behind Ominis, causing him to jump slightly.

"I don't know what you mean." Ominis says, his tone turning icy. Sebastian knew he wouldn't be happy to see him.

"Ominis, your family threatened Y/N didn't they?" Sebastian questions, causing Ominis to freeze.

"And what of it? I've dealt with it." Ominis snaps.

"What about Y/N?" He asks, and just hearing your name makes Ominis's heart clench.

"What about her? We're over Sebastian, and that will never change. So long as I'm a Gaunt, she will always be in danger. We can never be together, I should have known that." Ominis says bitterly.

"That's not true, if you love her then-"

"Then what Sebastian? Sometimes when you love somebody, you have to make sacrifices. Not like you would know anything about that." Ominis snaps, his shoulders rigid. He turns and makes a beeline for the castle, leaving Sebastian standing in the courtyard.

This was going to be harder than he thought.

#ominis gaunt #ominis x reader #ominis gaunt x reader #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy spoilers #angst #breakup angst

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myfaveficrecs · 1 year

Text

Remember This?

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Reader

Word Count: 2,011

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, mentions of injuries/medical procedures

AN: I am dipping my toes back into the writing world for @roosterforme’s #love is in the air tgm challenge. My song is, “I’ll Make Love to You” by Boyz II Men. Hopefully this isn’t a flop! Happy Valentine’s Day! XOXO

You enjoyed your job immensely. Helping people had always been something that was extremely important to you, and you were lucky enough to be able to do what you were passionate about. You finished medical school 3 years ago and now you were employed at your local VA Hospital part time, your other half being on base with your husband, Bradley. You had been high school sweethearts and you were still going on like it was your honeymoon.

You were overjoyed when you learned you were going to be able to help soldiers from all branches from all over the country. You helped veteran soldiers with rehabilitation mostly. Post war injuries that needed extra help and attention when they were able to come back home.

Bradley and his squadron were all in the Navy. Fanboy and Halo had done 3 tours in Iraq and Afghanistan while Bradley had done 2 recently. Hangman was almost killed in combat 4 days before he was due to come home from his last deployment. The others had thankfully come home in one piece, only minor scrapes and injuries from their time overseas. Bradley hadn’t been as lucky.

Bradley had been shot once in the chest inches away from his heart, and shrapnel had sliced through his face, neck, and arm. He was lucky to be alive but thankfully the doctors he had were good at what they do. They were able to save his life but not without complications. He had severe nerve damage through his left shoulder and bicep and his collarbone had been shattered and completely reconstructed. When he was sent home, he started showing up to the hospital you worked at for his physical therapy, often riding home with you at the end of the day.

You had just finished with a patient when you were heading to your office, passing by the nurses’ station on your way. You dropped the patient’s chart off at the desk but before you could start heading in the direction you desired, your charge nurse, Rebecca, stopped you with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“You have a visitor.”

“A visitor?”

“If you don’t want him, I’ll take him.”

She just shrugged her shoulders noncommittally with a smirk, walking away from you to continue your filing. Looking at your basket you noticed you had no patients waiting and walked to your office wondering who could be waiting for you.

As soon as you walked into your office your face broke out in a large smile. You knew it was your husband without a doubt. His 6’1” frame standing in front of your large window overlooking the city, broad shoulders, long legs, tight little ass, and hair with perfect curls for pulling.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise.” You smiled while shutting your door, taking off your lab jacket and throwing it over the back of one of the chairs in your office. He turned around quickly and smiled at you, holding his arms open wide for you to walk into, bringing you into a warm and tight embrace.

“Yeah, I had my last appointment today and thought I’d come up and see you.”

“How’d it go?”

“Good. Almost as good as before.”

“That’s awesome, honey.”

“You don’t have any patients do you?”

“No, I think my next appointment is in another 45 minutes, why?”

With a mischievous look and a flick of the lock on your door, Bradley looks towards your desk and says, “Hey Alexa! Play my baby maker playlist.” You couldn’t help but laugh, burying your face in his chest as “I’ll Make Love to You,” starts to echo in your office.

“Haven’t heard this song since the night before my last deployment...you remember that night?” He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“Of course, I do! But Roo, we can’t do that here!”

“We can. I locked the door. C’mon baby, I thought we could celebrate a little early.” He could see the slight crack in your resolve and pounced on the seconds of vulnerability, the pride. “Besides, Rebecca is probably listening right outside the door right now anyway.:

Close your eyes, make a wish And blow out the candlelight For tonight is just your night We're gonna celebrate, all through the night Pour the wine, light the fire Girl your wish is my command I submit to your demands

Bradley wrapped one hand into your hair, gently pulling your head back, tracing his nose up your cheek. Pulling back slightly he hovers his lips over your own, a little quirk to his lips when he pulls millimeters away when you try and connect. Once, twice more before he lets out a breathy chuckle at your frustration, finally crashing his plush lips to yours in a passionate kiss. His other hand pushing into your lower back and pulling you flush against him, swaying to the harmony of the song. When he pulled away you were both breathless and dizzy. Desire had pooled in your core, and you could feel an impressive bulge digging into your stomach. “You gonna let me love you like it’s that night all over again? Right here, right now?”

He didn’t give you any time to respond before he crashed his lips back onto yours once again. This time the kiss was all tongue and teeth. He loved to bite on your lower lip when you kissed, and it always managed to send shivers down your spine. As soon as you let out a moan, he knew he had you right where he wanted you and he smiled against your mouth. He quickly picked you up, digging his hands underneath your ass cheeks and plopped you unceremoniously on top of your desk, pushing everything out of his way to give you enough room to lie down. Your movements were frantic, knowing time was limited, ironically the same as the night before he left.

I will do anything, girl you need only ask I'll make love to you Like you want me to And I'll hold you tight Baby, all through the night I'll make love to you When you want me to And I will not let go 'Til you tell me to

Bradley was usually a rough lover, but he always managed to make you feel loved and protected, no matter what you were doing, and the sex was no different. His touch held a tenderness; a reaffirming touch that he would always be there to care for you.

You quickly pulled his shirt off of his broad shoulders and pulled it up over his head to reveal his chiseled chest and abs. Reaching up you pulled Bradley down toward you, kissing over his scars from the old wounds, shrapnel, and surgeries. This was something you always did, letting him know you were thankful he was alive and in your arms. The reminder that he was still beautiful in your eyes.

Girl relax, let's go slow I ain't got nowhere to go I'm just gon' concentrate on you Girl, are you ready? It's gon' be a long night Throw your clothes (throw your clothes) on the floor (on the floor) I'm gonna take my clothes off too I've made plans to be with you Girl whatever you ask me, you know I can do

Bradley pulled your hair and moved your head back far enough to stretch your neck long, licking a broad stripe and ending with a quick nip underneath your ear. You let out an obscene moan making him pull back from you and stand up as straight as he could while leaning over your desk for support. “You gotta be quiet, baby.” He practically ripped your scrub pants and panties off of you in one quick pull, your shoes flying off along with them from the force of his tug. He placed your feet wide along the edge of your desk, opening yourself up to him. “Fuck Y/N…you’re already soaking wet.”

“I’m always wet for you, Bradley…now are you just going to stare or are you going to make love to your wife?”

I'll make love to you Like you want me to And I'll hold you tight Baby, all through the night I'll make love to you When you want me to And I will not let go 'Til you tell me to

Bradley’s demeanor instantly changed. His eyes quickly shot up to yours, narrowing into slits. He clenched his jaw making it tick, and he snapped his belt open, never once taking his eyes from yours. The intensity bringing a new wave of slick rushing out of you. There was no reply from him, his face telling you everything you needed to know. He was most definitely going to love you, and he was going to make sure you remembered it.

Pulling his jeans and boxers down just below his ass, his erection sprang free. It was long and thick, steadily leaking drops of precum. He wrapped his hand around the base, slowly stroking upwards, giving you a show. With a smirk he wrapped his hand around your thighs, pulling you down until your ass was flush with the edge of your desk.

Baby, tonight is your night And I will do you right Just make a wish on your night Anything that you ask I will give you the love of your life, your life, your life

No warning was given before he thrust into you in one slow and measured thrust, filling you to the brink, and trusting your body to accept him as it has hundreds of times before. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your mouth opened wide to let out a sound you had never heard yourself make before, not that you could bring yourself to care.

“I said,” he pistoned into you quickly, “be quiet. You don’t want those coworkers of yours getting too curious, do you?” You shook your head, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood in an attempt to muffle your noises. Bradley set a punishing pace knowing time was not on his side. His hips quickly meeting yours, the sound of slapping skin loud enough to echo throughout your office over the music. He pushed your scrub top up and over your breasts, pulling the cups of your bra down, and started to roughly caress your breasts with his left hand, his right holding tightly onto your hip to keep you from scooting across your desk from the power of his thrusts. The cold metal of his wedding ring made your nipples harden to tight peaks, the sensation running like a lightning bolt to your clit. “Fuck…Roo…please.”

He didn’t need to ask what you needed, knowing your body better than you did after all of these years. He quickly put his body flush with yours, chest to chest, intertwining your hands together beside of your head, and slammed his lips onto yours once again, tongues battling for dominance and attempting to muffle the noises trying to escape. The new angle caused him to move even deeper inside of you, completely bottoming out. The feeling of being so full and the delicious friction his pelvis was giving you by rubbing against your clit sent you over the edge.

I'll make love to you Like you want me to And I'll hold you tight Baby all through the night I'll make love to you When you want me to And I will not let go 'Til you tell me to

You arched your back and wrapped your legs tightly around his waist. The tight fluttering of your walls sending Bradley into his own orgasm, giving a growl you felt deep within his chest as he released himself inside of you. The sound of your intercom on your office phone went off, Rebecca’s voice floating through the room. “Your last appointment of the day just cancelled. See you tomorrow, Dr. Bradshaw!”

Both of you were still breathing heavily, interlocked together to the point you couldn’t tell where you began, and he ended. “Thank God because I don’t think I can walk after that.”

You both broke out into laughter, ready to go home. Bradley knew he had that record on the bookshelf in his office...round 2 is exactly what the doctor ordered.

If you do not wish to be tagged, please let me know and I will remove you! If you do want to be tagged, please let me know.

@roosterscock

@roosterforme

@endofdays56

@bradshawsbitch

@jupitercomet

@seresinhangmanjake

@wildbornsiren

@babyrooster

@ohtobeleah

@oncasette

@topguncortez

@topgun-imagines

@roleycoleyreccenter

@cherrycola27

@thedroneranger

@notroosterbradshaw

@almostgenerallyalways

@roosterbruiser

@teacupsandtopgun

@mak-32

#love is in the air tgm #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun fanfiction #tgm #rooster x y/n #rooster imagine #rooster smut #female reader

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tilebytiles · 2 months

Text

Star Treatment (Alex Turner x Reader) - Part 5

summary: there’s a strange man named alex that has a strange obsession with you, and he makes the strangest offer of your life.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: none

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4

Your time on the moon was almost over.

With the close of your galactic journey came a bittersweet feeling; you’d had a lot of fun at the hotel. Although you neglected the casino aspect (you’d never been much of a gambler and didn’t intend to start), you took multiple dips in the pool, perused the library countless times, and even ventured into the gym once or twice. The fitness jungle was intimidating, so you only really used the treadmill, but it was still something. You’d gotten to talk to Alexa and Miles a lot more, and they both agreed to keep in touch with you once you were all back on Earth.

The person you’d miss the most, though, was Alex.

You hadn’t seen much of him over the last few days, despite your stay being extended; James had been sent back to Earth prematurely, and a round trip for the rocket was at least six days, so you were more or less stuck up there until further notice. Although Alex’s glances towards you had become more tender, his touches more like caresses, his words spoken in a soft tone he didn’t use with anyone else, you hadn’t spoken much to each other since your impromptu sleepover. You were hesitant to ask him about it; you yearned for his attention, but you also understood how it might look if he was suddenly doting on you every hour of every day. You’d be proving James right, more or less. You would rather step out the airlock than do that.

You also knew talking to each other once you got back home wouldn’t really be an option; he told you once that he’d open the hotel to the public within the next month, meaning his attention would be entirely consumed by his project. You would return to your regular job, and he would remain an unfinished canvas, a story never to be completed. Would he even come to the café anymore? Would he want anything to do with you?

"What's got you all worked up?" You jumped at the sound of Miles' voice and whipped around. He was leaning against the doorway of your room, his arms crossed over his chest and his left eyebrow cocked up.

Your own eyebrow rose at his question. "I'm not worked up. I'm just standing here."

"You get worked up in your own ways," he said with a shrug. "You tend to zone out. In this case, I've been here for nearly three minutes trying to get your attention, and you've just been starin' at the clothes you've got on the bed."

You cringed at the mental image his words painted in your head. "Sorry. I'm just thinking."

"About what?" When you didn't answer and instead looked back down at the clothes- the tee, joggers and socks you hadn't worked up the courage to give back to Alex yet- realisation seemed to hit Miles like a truck. "Oh. About Al?"

Miles was the only one that had approached you directly about whether or not there was anything between you and Alex. Alexa had taken a more subtle approach, nudging you with her elbow and winking whenever Alex smiled at you in passing, but Miles had been much more direct, his curiosity regarding your relationship coming in the form of an abrupt "Are you shaggin' him?" over lunch one day. You told him no repeatedly, probably so much so that it could be read as yes. You didn't dare allude to what had really happened between the two of you, but you were honest with him in admitting there was something there. Something you both felt.

"Why don't you just talk to him?" His words dragged you back to the present.

You sighed. "I wish it was that easy," you mumbled. "But what am I supposed to say? For all I know, I might just be some fling of his."

Miles barked out a laugh at that. "You're kiddin', right? He's bloody obsessed with you."

"He could just be playing it up."

"Y/N," he said, his voice taking on a much more serious tone, "if Alex was fuckin' around with you this whole time, I would seriously harm him. That's a major 'if', though. I've never known him to be that kind of person, and neither has Alexa. He isn't the type to toy with someone else's feelings."

A voice rang out from somewhere down the hall. "Hey, Miles, have you seen my camera?" It was Alexa.

Miles sighed and offered you one final sympathetic glance. "I mean it," he said softly. "Right now, I doubt you're the last person he'd think of leavin' behind." And with that, he left your room, shouting down the hall about how he hadn't seen Alexa's "bloody fuckin' camera".

You looked back down on the clothes you'd neatly laid out on top of the bed. You'd been planning to give them back that day, actually, but every time you finally worked up the courage to do it, you quickly convinced yourself it would be a bad idea. You hated how insecure you suddenly felt; you were positive that even if Alex was obsessed with you, someone better would come along. Someone more deserving of his obsession and unwavering affection. The more desperate side of you wanted to believe Miles, but the more rational side of you knew that whatever existed between you and Alex right now would be gone as soon as you set foot back on Earth and returned to your routine lives.

Your time on the moon was almost over, and you hated it.

•••••

Miles had delivered the clothes in your stead. Now that they were finally out of sight, out of mind, you found yourself laying face-up in the pool, staring at the vast expanse of stars above you. The water was cold, uncomfortably so, but you didn't care; you just needed to think. You needed something else to focus on, something that wasn't the man with the heavenly Northern accent and the well-kept goatee and the shoulder-length hair that was always an elegant mess and the crisp suits and the smile that could charm God. You felt a little pathetic, if you were being honest with yourself- this time, you didn't do that as reluctantly. Maybe self-degradation came to you a little too naturally. Technically, you'd known Alex for months, but it was mostly his existence you knew of, not who he really was. Well, that and his favourite kind of coffee. Still, that didn't really tell you much about the kind of person he was. Knowing he liked his coffee burning hot didn't tell you his favourite colour or favourite food. Knowing his surprising disdain for pumpkin spice lattes didn't tell you his favourite book or his hobbies. Knowing the only pastry in the display case that he ever ordered (on the rare occasion he did order something besides coffee) was the pain au chocolat didn't tell you his middle name, his hometown, his favourite music, his dreams as a child, the things he was nitpicky about, his favourite animal, his greatest fear, how he wanted his body to be dealt with when he died, or whether or not he'd seen Blade Runner.

You would be lying if you said you hadn't imagined his response to all of those things before. You guessed his favourite colour might have been something like orange or yellow. His favourite food was something savoury, no doubt; he never struck you as the type to have much of a sweet tooth. His favourite book was definitely one of the classics. His hobbies had to be reading (that was an easy one), perhaps writing, maybe even playing an instrument. His middle name was something prim and proper, his hometown was somewhere like Newcastle, his favourite music was the oldies, his dreams as a child were to be an astronaut in space, he was nitpicky about his appearance and having everything in perfect order, his favourite animal was something predictable like a dog, his greatest fear was being forgotten, he wanted to be cremated upon death, and he had most certainly seen Blade Runner and would consider it criminal for anyone else not to have. Those were all just guesses, though, and you knew some of them were probably painfully inaccurate. But you didn't think you would ever get the answers.

Somewhere nearby, you heard a door open and then close, and for a brief moment, it dragged you out of the monotonous trance you'd placed yourself in. You quickly slipped back into your lull, though, continuing to stargaze and letting the water around you prick at your skin, giving you goosebumps. You didn't notice the door to the changing room shut, nor did you notice the small splash that accompanied the unidentified individual lowering themselves into the water. You were beginning to think you were perfectly content with staying in that pool forever when the water around you began to rock and bob, bouncing you with it. A figure came into your periphery, and the small glimpse you got made you turn your head, water instantly flooding into your right ear. Alex was wading beside you, casting small ripples into the pool water as he stroked his arms across the surface, keeping himself afloat. You slowly turned your head back to its previous position, feeling the water dribble out of your ear as you continued stargazing.

He was the first to speak, and you hated how your heart lurched at the sound of his voice, as if it would burst from your chest and wait for him to take it. "You've been avoiding me."

His voice remained neutral, but the underlying hurt in his words was glaringly obvious. "I wasn't trying to," you said quietly. "There just haven't been chances for us to talk."

"That's bullshit, Y/N, and you know it."

You shifted and struggled in the water for just a moment before assuming the same wading position he was in. For a few seconds, ones that suddenly felt uncomfortably long, all you could do was stare at him. His expression was neutral, too, but his eyes betrayed his emotions. They always had. You were reminded of the quote about the eye being the window to the soul. "I'm sorry," you finally said.

He let out a small scoff and looked down at the water between you. "At least tell me why."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because you'll think it's stupid."

"What's stupid is thinking I'll think it's stupid." His gaze darted back up to meet yours, and you could tell he was having a difficult time keeping himself contained. You were reminded of the look of anger he'd had the night of the party, and how horribly it contrasted with his features. You didn't think he was built to be angry, and you hated the thought you were making him feel anything close to that.

You sighed and tilted your head back to look up at the stars again. Not looking him directly in the eye made it easier to confess what had been weighing you down so much recently. "I'm scared you'll forget me, Alex."

Silence followed, then, "What?"

"You're going to get famous because of this hotel. You have to know that. You won't have time for me anymore, which is fine because I'm just the girl that made your coffee, anyway. Even if you did have time, there's a chance some other girl will come along that's way better than me in every aspect. She'll be prettier, nicer, more successful, more important. I won't even be jealous of her, because I'll know she'll be far more deserving of you attention than I am. You'll fall in love with her and forget about me and I'll force myself to move on and maybe, eventually, I'll fall in love with someone else, too."

More silence punctuated your words, but this time, Alex didn't fill it with objections or utterances of confusion. Although you were staring up into space, from the very bottom of your line of sight, you could tell he was still staring at you. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, as if he was struggling to think of exactly what to say. You didn't blame him; how could you? You'd just dumped an absolute boatload on him.

It felt like an eternity had passed before he tried to form an answer for you. “I could never forget you, even if I wanted to.”

Slowly, your head lowered again, and you stared at him, unsure of what to say in response. Now it was your turn to be stunned into silence. You looked off to the side, then at the edge of the pool behind him, then back at him. “Why?”

He sighed and ran a wet hand through his hair. “The first time I saw you,” he began slowly, “I was ready to worship the ground you stood on. You might think yourself to be plain, Y/N, but in less than a few weeks, you became my whole world, only leaving enough space for …” He gestured around the two of you, his eyes widening a bit, much as they always did when he wanted to emphasise something.

Your brows knitted together at his confession. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I was well aware I’d sound mental,” he said bluntly, dropping his arms back into the water with a small splash. “Because I knew you’d think I was a creep. I was obsessed, and I felt guilty for that, even if I wasn’t tryin’ to stalk you or anything.”

You considered his words. Although you wanted to deny it to make him feel better, you knew he was right; you probably would’ve told your manager if one of the customers tried to confess his undying love to you. “But …” You trailed off, trying to think of what to say next. Your gaze dropped to the water again. “Who’s to say you still feel that way, now that you know me?”

He let out a short laugh. “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N. You’re quite stubborn, aren’t you?” When you didn’t respond, he continued. “When I told you how I felt the night of the party, I meant it,” he said quietly. “I wasn’t lying to you or trying to comfort you. I’ve always had feelings for you, and as far as I’m concerned, I always will. Nothing will change that.”

You didn’t say anything and looked away a little shamefully. You felt a bit silly for being so doubtful up to this point; it was clear Alex liked you, a lot. He called it an obsession, but you didn’t know if it really was as dramatic as he was making it out to be or if he was so inexperienced that having feelings for anyone qualified as being madly in love. Then again, he’d never struck you as the inexperienced type … quite the opposite, really, especially when you considered the ease with which he’d eaten you out.

Alex seemed to pick up on your remorse. He let out another sigh before saying, “Let’s get out of here, yeah? I don’t know about you, but I’m fuckin’ freezing.”

The two of you clambered out of the pool, heading into one of the changing rooms to dry off as best you could and wrapping yourselves up in robes. You’d have to shower later, you thought to yourself. You wondered if you could shower with Alex, and the mere thought tinted your cheeks a light shade of pink. Although you didn’t vocalise any of your thoughts, he seemed to be thinking the same thing as you, for he entwined his hand with yours and said, “Shall we go to my room?” All you could do was nod.

Inside his room, things were the same as they’d been the last time you were in there. You followed him into the bathroom, watching as he gently shut and locked the door before turning to face you. He offered you a small smile, a gesture that made you feel comfortable enough to shed your robe and strip out of your bikini. He followed suit, letting his robe and his swim trunks hit the floor in a circle of damp fabric around him. You refused to let your gaze wander to any part of his body that wasn’t his face, and at the sheer effort that seemed to take on your part, he couldn’t help but laugh.

One of the things that scared you the most about taking a shower with another person was the possibilities. As Alex turned on the water and tested it a couple of times, making sure it was warm enough before stepping inside with you following suit, your mind immediately jumped to the possibility of Alex rearranging your insides against the shower wall. Did that idea come into your head a bit too eagerly? Yes. Were you embarrassed by it? 100%. Would you ever tell Alex you had that idea? Fuck no. Were you a little scared of it happening because Alex was the only man that had ever touched you and you weren’t even sure if you’d like having sex? Absolutely.

To your surprise (and perhaps relief), though, nothing of the sort happened. Alex let you shampoo his hair first, letting out small sounds of contentment as you massaged his scalp. You worked slowly, not wanting this moment between the two of you to end anytime soon. Once his hair was adequately shampooed, he washed the suds out of his hair, then grabbed the bottle off the shelf and squeezed some into his hand. He snapped it shut on his wrist, set it back down, then began massaging the apple-scented shampoo into your own hair. You didn’t have to lean down like he did, considering you were shorter than him and he could access your scalp much easier than you could his.

You two had been in a rather comfortable silence, and he was the first to break it, although not jarringly so. “D’you like cookies?”

A small laugh erupted from you. “Who doesn’t?”

“Fair point,” he mumbled. “I was just askin’ because the café made too many yesterday, and I was gonna steal some for you.”

“Well, what kind are they?”

“Chocolate chip. Close your eyes.” Alex seized the shower head, and you quickly did as you were told, feeling the water and shampoo rush down against your head. Every so often, the water would hit your hairline, and it tickled. As he worked, he continued talking, although the torrent made it a bit harder to hear him. “I might steal a dozen, then we can split ‘em.”

When he finally pulled the shower head away from you, you reached up to dry your eyes. “Bold of you to assume I would share.”

“Ah, well …” He looked off to the side, then back down at you, his hands settling on his hips. “You’re talking to the hotel owner, so I don’t think you have much of a choice.”

“It’s a bit cruel of you to use your position against me.”

He merely hummed in response, unable to hide the smile your words generated, and grabbed the bottle of conditioner.

The rest of the shower went smoothly, and you were a little sad when it ended. It was, arguably, the most intimate you’d ever gotten with him. You two had helped each other wash, and gradually, you became less shy about touching each other. It made you realise something; you’d been viewing this kind of physical contact as sexual for an embarrassingly long time, but now that it was happening, it wasn’t sexual at all. You regretted the lewd circumstances your mind had tried to frame a shared shower in.

You’d gotten dressed following your shower, and now you found yourself back in Alex’s bed. This time, he was laying with his cheek pressed against your chest, listening to your steady heartbeat. On occasion, his fingers would begin to tap out the rhythm against your sides, although they’d stop a few seconds later. Your own fingers worked absentmindedly through his hair, and at some point, you’d begun to work on a small braid. You didn’t think he could feel it; if he did, he didn’t say anything. It would be amusing to see him discover it later.

His voice was a low rumble, and you got the idea he was more tired than he let on. “Thank you.”

Your fingers halted their movements. “For what?”

“For existing.”

Those two words made you want to cry, and you had to force yourself to blink back tears. You worked more urgently on his braid, trying to keep yourself distracted, but this meant he could feel you tugging at his hair now. His head lifted from your chest, and his expression softened into one of understanding as he shifted his body upwards and pressed a kiss to each of your cheeks, catching tears that weren’t there. “I mean it,” he murmured. “And … thank you for giving me a chance.”

That brought out the waterworks, and the tears, hot and heavy, poured from your eyes before you could stop them. His hands left your sides and came up to cup your cheeks, his thumbs wiping away your tears. He kissed your forehead, your nose, and then your lips, lingering there longer than the rest. When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead to yours, staring deep into your eyes. “Stay with me.”

Your eyes widened a little. “What?”

“Stay with me,” he repeated. “Help me manage the hotel. Or … hell, if you don’t want a thing to do with this, I understand, just-” He sighed and screwed his eyes shut. “Stay in my life,” he whispered. “Please.”

He didn’t have to ask that of you. The answer would always be yes. In a million universes, a million more lifetimes, the endless aisles of circumstances that were lined up neatly in the library of what could have been, you would always follow him. Maybe in one world, you would meet as a biker / florist duo. In another, he’d be a dazzling musician, and you’d be an awestruck photographer. In another, he might be a damn vampire, trying to navigate the world without being killed and while shunning the daylight and wearing sunglasses positively everywhere. He could be some eldritch horror, and you would still follow him to the ends of the earth. You knew that even if you were under a horribly strong curse, he would always find a way to break it. He would always find a way to make sure you could follow him. “Of course I will,” you whispered in reply. “Always.”

His eyes slowly peeled open, and he managed a soft smile at you, kissing you once more. “The day after you stole my heart,” he murmured against your lips, “everything I touched told me it’d be better shared with you.”

•••••

tags: @elexnorislingtxn / @edandmollydeservebetter / @sagegreensimmr / @billyseye / @not-a-big-slay

#alex turner #alex turner x reader #tranquility base hotel and casino #tbhc era #arctic monkeys #fanfic #alex turner x you #alex turner x y/n

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 2 years

Text

Kinktober Day 26

Kinktober Masterlist

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked.

Notes: Alexa, play I Could've Danced All Night from My Fair Lady

Also this is a Colombina mask

And these are combinations

Warnings: Flouting of Victorian mores; riding; piv unprotected sex

One night. You tell yourself that you’ll go for a single night. It's dangerous as it is, and there's a chance that you could be caught, and fired. God knows your prospects would be limited then. Everyone in London society knows one another, and certainly an outsider would be caught out immediately—but you can’t resist the temptation.

It's the one night in your life when you can be someone fascinating and mysterious, not an otherwise ignored and nameless ladies maid.

That first night of the masquerade is an absolute thrill. Your dance card is filled by some of the most prominent names in town—dukes, counts, ministers, barristers. The whispers of fascinated, envious women follow you from the dance floor, to the refreshments table, and back to the dance floor again. You keep your distance, offering minimal answers, hiding your coy smiles behind your fan. Before the clock can strike midnight, you hurry away, hailing a hansom and stopping far from the home that you live and work in.

You scurry into the cellar, hurriedly stripping out of your borrowed finery and changing back into your working clothes. You tuck the dress into a pile of your mistress’ laundry, and hurry to finish your chores. When you lay down, you can’t fall asleep. The memories of being twirled around in men’s arms, in drinking fine wine and eating good food, swirled about your head, as if taunting you.

There are another two nights of festivities…But you certainly can’t attend.

This evening had been far too risky, and it would be more difficult to sneak there and back in a borrowed dress and your golden, bejeweled Colombina mask.

It’s all over the society pages the next morning—the masked mystery woman that swept everyone’s attention. It sends excited flutters through your belly, and makes warmth rise in your cheeks. You can hardly meet the eyes of your fellow servants, nor speak, lest you give away your truth and excitement.

The second night of the ball is just as exciting as the first. The whispers increase, and follow you; you flutter through the evening, reveling in the ease of your movement on the dance floor, and the flow of conversation with men that would never give you another look otherwise.

It’s a lark—it’s a laugh—until you’re drawn into the arms of Sherlock Holmes.

It's impossible not to recognize him; he's flouted the masks that the many of you have donned. You know who he is, of course. Everyone knows the detective. Everyone is aware of his sleuthing prowess, his ability to get the things that he needs out of criminals. You're grateful for the gloves on your hands. You’re certain your sweaty palms would give your panic away—but perhaps he finds it in another way, as his eyes skim your face with curious fascination.

“You’ve caused quite a stir,” He comments. His voice takes you by surprise—it’s lower and warmer than you thought it may be.

“Have I?”

“I think you’re well aware that you have.”

“I’m merely dancing.”

He chuckles.

“It is not your dancing that inspires conversation, my lady.”

My lady. The term is one that’s been lobbed in your direction repeatedly, but there’s a certain type of warmth to Mr. Holmes’ voice. You wonder if he’s trying to put you at ease—to work your truth out of you. It raises your hackles.

“Oh no?”

“You may act coy, but you know as well as I that you’ve captured the attention of Mayfair.”

“I hardly pay attention to gossip, and it seems below you, Mr. Holmes.”

“I pay no mind to gossip.”

“Then what has captured your attention?”

“A good mystery.”

Your face heats. As the dance ends, you prepare to part ways, but Mr. Holmes curls his arm around yours, guiding you from the dance floor.

In the few minutes spent in My. Holmes’ company, you find yourself flustered and nervous. He asks questions that seem fairly innocuous to you, but are almost certainly pointed to him.

You’re aware of Mr. Holmes’ focus on you for the remainder of the evening. You can’t help but note the way he watches you, and are certain that he speaks to everyone with whom you’ve spoken. Tonight, you hurry out earlier than that the evening before. You do as you did before, hailing a hansom and having it stop a ways away, skulking through dark alleys and corners to reach home. You’re careful as you disrobe, tucking the dress away and hiding the Colombiana mask in your quarters.

There’s only one more night of festivities. You’re not sure if you dare return, especially now that Sherlock Holmes seems to be interested in you—at least, interested in who you may be behind the mask.

“Will you answer the door!” Your mistress calls irritatedly, forgoing the bell that she would typically use to summon you. You scoff, pushing away from the table, and from your midday meal. The footman must be occupied. You hurry up from the kitchen, rounding to the front hall yanking the door open.

It’s a mistake.

You recognize the man immediately.

Sherlock Holmes turns to face you, expression bright and expectant. You can’t help but stare for a moment. How has he found you already? How did he know—

“Good morning,” He nods. “I’m looking for—” Oh, Lord above, Saints preserve you— “Mrs. Haskins.”

Haskins. Mrs. Haskins? You are not Mrs. Haskins, and isn’t he looking for—

Holmes’ brows raise as you stare wordlessly at him.

“Is this not the right address?” He plies into your silence. You nod hurriedly, taking a step back and holding the door as he walks past you, into the foyer. You close the door, then take hold of his hat.

“Who is it!” Mrs. Haskins calls in from the drawing room. You plan on leading the way and introducing him, but Mr. Holmes lightly waves you off, heading into the drawing room. You stare after him, breath leaving you as you begin to panic in the front hall. Surely he’s going to tell Mrs. Haskins that you’re the mystery woman from the last two nights of the ball.

When your name is called just a moment later, you’re certain that the jig is up. You walk gravely into the drawing room, as if going to the gallows. But you find the two of in fine fettle, smiling and chuckling.

“Tea,” Mrs. Haskins orders you simply before turning her attention back to Mr. Holmes. You dip a minute curtsy before hurrying to leave.

Mr. Holmes’ visit is a short, but harrowing one. You can’t make out too much of the conversation through the door; what you can catch on isn’t enough to draw any conclusions. You see Mr. Holmes out, passing his hat over to him and hardly meeting his eyes. He doesn’t leave right away. He stops, tipping his head and searching your face. Your eyes flicker nervously to his. He holds your gaze for a long moment, eyes narrowing slightly before he looses a soft, “Hm.”

And then he gives you a short nod, turns, and leaves.

As the door closes behind him, you nearly bow in on yourself, your stomach churning with panic.

There’s no good reason for you to return the third and final night of the masquerade. You’re tempting hubris.

But there you are, in another borrowed dress and your Colombina mask. You find yourself whirling around the dance floor with suitor after suitor. You’re trying to catch and hold every moment of mirth, certain it’ll be your last.

When you find yourself in Mr. Holmes’ arms again, you can’t help but hold yourself with stiff, nervous reserve. He seems to clock your tension, and rather than chat with you as you had the night before, you dance in silence. However, as last night, he takes hold of your arm, leading you from the floor. He steers you around the corner, onto the veranda. He lets go of you, tucking his hands in his pockets and taking slow, meandering steps. Your arms curl around yourself against the night chill, your eyes darting around.

“I’ve worked many a case in my time,” He says, “But in all my years, they’ve never been crime-free.”

“Crime-free?” You frown.

“Mm.” He turns to face you, brow raising. “From what I can tell, you’re not doing anything illegal. You’re attending a ball. You haven’t given anyone a false name–or any name, in fact. Nothing has come up missing from anyone that you’ve danced with, ad there haven’t been any reports of above-average crimes or robberies on the other side of town.”

“You thought I might be a distraction.”

“The principle of the magician’s assistant,” He nods, “Directing the audience to focus on a beautiful woman while the trick is carried out in plain sight.”

You scoff in irritation, turning your face from his.

“I was wrong,” He concedes, taking a few steps closer. “But I will admit, I cannot ascertain your purpose, and it…Concerns me.”

You’re quiet for a moment, lowering your eyes to his chest, your head shaking a little bit.

“Why must every divergent action be deemed malicious?” You ask softly, more to yourself then to him. “Why can’t someone simply want a change? A chance to be someone other than themselves, for just an hour or two?”

You feel Sherlock stop just in front of you, hardly a breath away. He grasps your chin, tipping your head up to meet his eyes. You search his expression as he’s searched yours. You’ve no clue what he may be thinking—what he may know about you, or what he may want to know.

“Is that what you wanted?” He murmurs. You nod a touch, but not enough to pull free from his grasp. Your tongue swipes over over your lips absently. Heat bolts through you as his eyes lower curiously to your lips.

“And at midnight? Will you disappear again?” He murmurs.

You nod.

“I should.”

“And what will you do with your remaining time? Go back in,” He takes a step closer, his chest brushing yours, “Or allow us to take full advantage of your anonymity?”

You’re quiet for a moment, taking in the full meaning of his words.

“Do you take me for a loose woman, Mr. Holmes?”

“Only if you take yourself for one.”

The mask stays on—it’s your only stipulation. He concedes, taking pleasure in riding you of your mistress’ finery. It falls into a crumpled mess on the floor of his sitting room. He draws you into his lap, loosening the top few ties of your corset before yanking open the buttons of your combinations. You give his chest a shove, with a spirit and a vigor that you’ve never felt before in your life. He stumbles back against his settee, a laughing huff pushing out of him as his back hits the puffed cushion. You clamber onto his lap, shivering as cool air brushes your cunt through your crotchless combinations.

Sherlock hooks his arm around your middle to steady you, his mouth seeking yours with heated desperation. Your mask knocks into his forehead as you seek and share one another’s kisses. You lean back just a touch, hand lowering to work at his belt and the fastening of his pants. As you do, Sherlock ducks his head, mouthing and sucking at your breasts where they’re exposing. You shiver as he draws one of your nipples into his mouth, lapping and teasing it with a groan. You press up into his lips, hips pushing down against his as your cunt throbs with need.

Sherlock’s hand lowers to between your legs, teasing and swiping at your neglected clit. The feeling punches a sound out of you, your mouth falling open in shock, head tipping back as you savor the waves of pleasure pushing over you. Sherlock releases your tit with a thick slurping noise. He grips your hips, teasing his cock against your tingling pussy. You tip your head down to look at him, nerves clenching in your stomach.

He searches your face for a moment, gaze smoothing from your mask to your eyes to your lips, then up again. You rest your hands on his shoulders, giving them a squeeze and steadying yourself. He nods in turn, curling his arm more tightly around you. Your mouth falls open as he eases his cock up into you. His fingers flex in the fabric of the chemise top as your cunt opens and flutters for him. You see him clench his jaw and hear him draw a deep breath in through his nose.

A grin curls on your lips as you feel a sense of power wash over you. You’ve never made a man still himself like this before—you’ve never made a man need to control himself like this. It’s a feeling that you fear you could grow addicted to.

Sherlock seems to sense your growing pride. He lets out one of those damnable thoughtful hums before he shoves his hips up into you. Your sense of power is lost as easily as it’s gained. You gasp, your grip on Sherlock’s shoulders tightening. He leans up, sucking harsh kisses to your neck between his grunts and harsh pants. The fabric of his clothing brushes roughly against your exposed skin as you writhe together.

Sherlock turns his head, sinking his teeth into your shoulder as his hips drive and screw up against yours. The feeling makes you shudder, a whimper falling from your lips as he takes full control of your pace and movement, shifting and turning you like you’re a rag doll. You gasp as a feeling coils in your belly, and slide your hands up into his hair. He grits out a groan, looking up at you. His lips are flushed and plumped from your kisses; there’s a sweet pink blush rising in his cheeks.

His eyelids flutter as he grinds into you with short, harsh thrusts. You draw in a sharp breath as the coiling feeling springs, sending you over the edge. You tip your head forward, the edge of your mask knocking against Sherlock’s cheek as you curl closer. The two of you go still, and the room is quiet, save for the mingling or your and Sherlock’s breath. You draw away a touch, smiling as Sherlock’s arm tugs you back against his chest. You reach down, patting his cheek gently before you carefully rise to your feet. His arm falls away from you, finally.

You stand on wobbly feet, primly righting your straps, top, and the bottom of your combinations. You walk over to where your dress was discarded, crouching and picking it up to put it back on.

“Best get that back to Mrs. Haskins.”

You freeze at his words. You turn slowly, eyes wide, hands shaking and tightening in the dress' fabric at his comment. Sherlock is watching you knowingly aas he buttons up his pants. You begin to open your mouth, to make your excuses, but he waves you off as he stands.

“I won’t tell,” He swears. Your brow furrows, shaking your head in confusion.

“Why not?”

“What you’ve done hasn’t hurt anyone.”

He reaches up, hands hovering on either side of your mask, waiting. You nod a little bit and close your eyes as he gently unfastens the mask and lifts it from your face. He turns it over in his hand before he meets your eye from beneath his lashes.

“...How did you know?” You ask softly. Sherlock smiles, raising his hand and dragging his knuckle gently along your cheek.

“I'd be a fool to forget those eyes.”

Tag list: @leaveinthelurk ; @missredherring ; @fangirlfreakingout ; @stevie25 ; @jvalentinesworld-cokes-hyna ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @karie-me-home ; @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly; @guyfieriii (tried to tag and it won’t let me D: ) ; @moonlightburned ; @amneris21 ; @shiftingsands14 ; @cloudohell ; @blueeyesatnight ; @inlovewithhisblueeyes ; @reaperofmen ; @winchestershiresauce ;

#Sherlock Holmes x Reader #Sherlock Holmes x You #Sherlock Holmes/Reader #Sherlock Holmes/You #Sherlock Holmes fic #Sherlock Holmes imagine #Kinktober #Kinktober 2022 #Youvebeenlivingfictional Kinktober 2022

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