Everything Is Good

Everything is good

𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐲

Yan! Lawyer Husband x GN Spouse Reader

—𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 - 𝑳𝑰𝒇𝑬 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕

CW: mafia related stuffs (ALL FOR READER...), disturbing ideations. NSFW

You were the subject of envy for everyone, the spouse of the infamous lawyer, Yulian de Alpheus, who possessed wealth, reputation, intelligence, and undying loyalty to you. To people, you were the beautiful dove living in the gilded cage he had given you, luxuries that fulfilled anyone's needs and wishes.

𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒈𝒆?

To him, the one who was truly locked in the cage was him. He was and would forever be locked in the gilded cage, forever drowned in his adoration toward you. If he had to live in a world where you did not exist, he would not hesitate to shoot himself to death and find you again.

"Dear, how about we go on a vacation this month?"

His words had you choked on your food. He immediately stood up and pat your back, a handkerchief that you embroidered for him handed to you as he handed you a glass of water, "Apology, did my question catch you off guard dear?"

You shook your head while you regained your composure, "It's just that I was surprised, you had been busy these days so how could you spare me your time for a silly vacation?"

Yulian chuckled as he patted your head, "True, and I plan to work even harder to finish all the mess they had shoved me to work on, I'm sure I could finish it right in time before our estimated vacation."

You frowned to yourself, your husband had always been a hard-working man. It was no surprise judging by the amount of assets he could own at such a fairly young age. While some of it was thanked to his father, you knew those would not remain had he not worked hard to keep and grow.

"Dear, I don't want you to over-exert yourself with this case just for a vacation. If you were worried about me then please pay no mind, I am content with everything but you stressing yourself."

Yulian sat back and started slicing the meat on his plate, "Dear, I did not marry you just to have you live in this house as a prisoner," the way he sliced things was of good etiquette but you knew. You knew how he always looks at the things he sliced as a subject of... low-life. "I want my beloved to live in happiness, a life where you get to have and own anything you want without a single worry," It's almost as though he wished he could use more force with the knife, "A life where you do not wish to end," Yulian used his fork to pick the sliced meat up to your lip, "A life where you wish you could live in for eternity."

You thought to yourself for a moment, drowning in thought before smiling at him, "Yes, a vacation this month sounds nice." You opened your mouth and ate the piece.

"What were you even thinking about to the point you tangle yourself into this mess?" Yulian furrowed his eyebrow, in his office was the leader of a renowned mafia group in the underground world and Yulian sat on the leathered chair with his hand wiping his white gun.

The ringleader's subordinates were clearly displeased with the way Yulian easily belittled the case and him but they knew better than to cause a mess.

"So? What do you need this time?"

Yulian stored the gun back in its respective place, locking the shelf with the key before handing the ringleader's subordinate a folder of files.

"I'll need you to fabricate everything I handed you. I've given you options of people for you to use as a scapegoat as well."

The ringleader took the folder and started reading the files in it, scanning the words that were typed on it.

"And I expect you to finish it all by this week. I'll be taking a vacation for myself by the end of the month so I'll finish the case in a few trials. I'd like you to find a way around the judge and jury as well. The more the better, understood?"

Yulian was an infamous lawyer. A lawyer who would validate any way to make his client proclaimed 'Not Guilty'. As much as he hated having to drag his name around the underground world, he had no choice but to work together with them. Why?

"Fine, I'll inform you everything this weekend." The ringleader left the room with his subordinates following behind him meekly. The moment they had walked out of his building and entered the car, one of them posed a question.

"Why did you let that shrimp belittle you, boss? It's not like he is the only lawyer we could have our hand with."

The ringleader did not look at his subordinate as he was still analyzing the content of the files. Even so, he was still attentive enough to answer them back, "Well, if you know exactly how strong my influence is, why do you think I allow him to boss over my men?"

The man gulped as his hand held the steering wheel tightly. Why would a measly bug be able to hold power over his boss?

"... He somehow got his hands into our mud. In simpler terms, he blackmailed me."

His right-hand man sighed, "Yulian is nothing but a coward, Kaspar. A coward."

What difference did it make to him? The fact that the two of them blackmailed people to survive while the ideations were biased to each side was nothing but hypocrisy.

"And yet he is the coward that dared to step into the underground world just to protect his spouse..." Kaspar winced at the word 'spouse', "he did all of that just for the love of his life. Is that supposed to be considered foolish or not...?"

The men fell silent until one of them proposed a question, "Then why not use his spouse against him?"

The basement that you did not know even existed. You knew there was a bunker down your house but you were never aware of the existence of the basement.

You were asleep so technically you couldn't have heard anything. No, the room was made to be soundproof, no one could hear what was going on in the room.

But you heard it anyway. You heard it faintly, the sounds of people screaming. It wasn't clear, almost below a whisper but it kept you awake. You looked to your side and found your husband absent from the bed again.

"Is he working again?"

You stood up and slipped your feet into the slippers before walking out of your shared bedroom. The hall was lit up by the warm white lights, the light that always comforts you no matter what. You walked toward his office which was located on the first floor, giving the grand door a knock before entering it.

"Dear?"

No one was inside the room. The room was laced with the smell of coffee, the only thing that he probably could love aside from you. You walked to his desk and read some of the files on it. The words on the paper were beyond your comprehension so you stopped reading it, glancing at the cup of coffee, you feel the cup with your hand. It's cold and full. Weird.

You took a look around his office, bookshelves on the side while a framed portrait of you and him hung on the other side.

He must have really loved this portrait, refusing to change it with a new one.

"Dear?"

You jumped at his voice, where did he come out from?

"Dear, where did you come from?"

"Ah, I was in the washroom. What brings you here? Did something wake you up?" Yulian asked you as he approached you while drying his hand with his handkerchief.

You took a closer look at it, it's not the same handkerchief you gave him. Weird. He had always been insistent on only using the handkerchief you embroidered for him.

"Dear?"

"Ah," you snapped out of your thought, "it's just that... I felt lonely. How long are you going to stay up again tonight dear?"

Yulian thought to himself as his eye shot toward the corner of the room, "Please, don't wait for me. I won't be finishing my work in any time so I hope you would use those time to retreat yourself to bed." Yulian pat your cheek before giving your cheek a peck, his emerald eyes had always drowned you in a ripple of the lovesick sea.

His hand snaked its way to your waist as he led you back to your shared bedroom, opening the door for you and urging you to lay on the comfortable white bed. He placed the blanket on top of you before sitting next to you, humming a lullaby while easing you down.

"My little Lily of the Valley is a curious soul hm? Your husband told you to sleep and you naughtily sneaked out of your room..." He playfully reprimanded you while you tried to drift yourself back to sleep. Hearing him teasing you like this was weird, but at least in a good way. What boosted his confidence?

"Someone like you should not wander around in the mercy of nighttime, even if it was in our own house," his hand caressed your hair while his eyes stared into your half-lidded ones, "my lily-of-the-valley should not wander around in the darkness anymore..."

Did you hear him right? Come to think of it, what woke you up earlier?

"Good night, my love."

"Good night, bastard."

A thud and the man who was tied to the chair plopped down, lifeless. The other men could only tremble in horror as they waited for their turn. Perhaps death would be the only slightest bit of virtue that he could offer, a mercy at his hands that was covered in bloodstains.

Just as he approached the other men, the alarm rang. Someone had entered his office. Yulian turned on the screen to the camera and saw you walking toward his desk, observing everything that was scattered on it.

He was glad that he didn't put anything 'suspicious' on it even if you wouldn't understand it. He didn't want to risk it.

Yulian went to the sink and washed his hands before motioning for someone to come out from the darkness. The members of the mafia walked out and waited for his order.

"Ah right, relay this message to your boss. Not only do these bastards will have to face the consequences of trying to touch my beloved, you guys too, will have to face it."

The men shuddered in fear as they thought of what he could do to them. The greatest mercy they could have would be that their boss would be the one who punished them and not the lawyer himself.

"Remember," Yulian walked toward them, hand taking out the handkerchief you embroidered for him, "I work for Kaspar so that this kind of thing won't happen. If this happens again, I'd personally make you guys crawl through the tunnels of prison for eternity."

His emerald orbs almost lit up into a burning fire as his jaw tightened in anger. He made his way toward the door before taking a look at the handkerchief.

He shouldn't use it for something so filthy.

He slid it back into his pocket and used another plain handkerchief instead.

"In short, he is the man who would not hesitate to kill his own children, his own blood and flesh, or his family just to save and love his beloved Lily of the Valley."

Kaspar sighed as he read the report. The scapegoats that he offered were his men who were on duty to protect his spouse.

"He is the man who had lived for eternity just to find and love his beloved again and again."

-- log end

Afternotes:

I didn't expect the fic to be this short (says the one who got lazy mid-way and cut half of the story...) anyway, I thought to myself, rather than let this rot in the draft, wouldn't it be better to post it even if it was only half completed without any proofread yet?

I'm really happy my first LIfE Project event features my favorite son, Yulian first! The next one might be Eleanor!

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soft-vainilla

9 months ago

𝖸𝖮𝖴𝖱 𝖥𝖴𝖳𝖴𝖱𝖤 𝖲𝖯𝖮𝖴𝖲𝖤'𝖲 𝖥𝖠𝖵𝖮𝖱𝖨𝖳𝖤𝖲 𝖵𝖲. 𝖸𝖮𝖴𝖱𝖲 | 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽.

— This will explore what your future spouse will love 'most' about you, and vice versa. If you feel more aligned with the first half, simply swap the perspectives. Sometimes, you might resonate more with your future spouse's vibe. Thank you!

ORIGINAL DATE POSTED : MARCH 29TH, 2024.

HOW TO CHOOSE A PILE : The outcome may vary based on whether you receive clear messages visually or intuitively. If you resonate more with selecting a pile visually, trust that inclination. Personally, I believe the notion that 'looks can deceive,' so I prefer to take a deep breath and close my eyes, allowing the pile I'm meant to connect with to come to me. You might see the color of the pile, sense or hear a number, or simply feel its overall vibe.

Please don’t redistribute or edit my content.

MUST READ + MASTERLIST | KO-FI

PILE ONE

What Will They Like Most About You Physically? Figure, Height, Fingers, Hands.

When pulling out traits, I found several signs indicating a plump or chubby appearance. If you relate to this, rest assured they adore it, especially how it complements your height. I envision someone squeezing a teddy bear - in this case, you. They find you incredibly cute. Your hands and fingers, perhaps used frequently in your work or hobbies, captivate them. They'll marvel at the way your fingers glide over a page or mold something, appreciating your movements. It feels very poetic, in a way.

What Will They Like Most About You Mentally? Free Spirit, Sensitive, Homebody, Unstoppable.

Aw, your future spouse will surely have a nurturing side. They'll tend to coddle you, in a healthy way, of course. They admire how you pursue your desires with a free-spirited approach despite your introverted and sensitive nature. They'll likely encourage you to take breaks and relax, treating you like royalty. There's a distinct vibe of 'I hate everyone but you' coming through.

What Will They Like Most About You? Teacher — Light : Ability to Communicate Knowledge, Experience, Skill or Wisdom. Healer — Light : Passion to Serve Others by Repairing the Body, Mind, and Spirit. Ability to Help Transform Pain into Healing. Guide — Light : Represents the Nature of the Divine in Life and in Yourself.

They'll be quick to notice your depth of knowledge, not just on a conventional level but also on a spiritual one. Your future spouse will appreciate your natural ability to teach, guide, and heal others even when it's not your intention. Your wisdom may extend to philosophical terms, offering advice on profound matters that aren't easily grasped by others.

What Will They Like Most About You? Crow : Spiritually Strong, Creative, Watchful, Psychic, Strong, Clear. Butterfly : Undergoing Great Change and Transformation. Cheerful, Graceful.

Your future spouse will lean towards practicality more than you do and might not gravitate toward certain metaphysical ideas and theories as easily as you. They'll be amazed by your ability to understand such concepts. While they are intelligent, they tend to favor strict rules, whereas you thrive on constant change and learning experiences.

I'd like to add that I sense this person is deliberately holding back, choosing not to reveal much. They want it to be a surprise just how much they love you. Don't worry, they genuinely adore everything about you, even though they may have favorites.

What Will You Like Most About Them Physically? Hair, Rugged, Nose, Tired-Looking, Eyelashes, Face Shape.

When I was pulling traits, I couldn't help but think of Shōta Aizawa from My Hero Academia in terms of appearance, haha. Of course, this could be a woman or nonbinary individual, but they definitely give off a similar vibe physically. They might appear a bit rough or scruffy, and you'll find that attractive. I'm not getting any specifics on hair color, but I envision thick, longer hair that might look a bit disheveled. They possess that tired charm, which softens their face in a way. I see them having a hooked nose of some kind.

What Will You Like Most About Them Mentally? Spiritual, Reliable, Oblivious, Compassionate, Sassy, Intelligent, Mysterious.

Once again, your future spouse is intelligent but may lack in certain areas that you find amusing. They possess two distinct sides, perhaps being book-smart but lacking in common sense. However, I believe you'll help balance them out, whatever the situation may be. They'll initially have a mysterious, stoic persona, but you'll have the ability to break through it and discover their true sweetness. You will enjoy receiving attention from them, considering their reserved nature. While your humor aligns in some ways, this person is likely more inclined towards being sassy and witty rather than being a 'jokester'. At first, they won't be heavily into spirituality, or whatever you practice, but they'll become intrigued by your experiences and eventually find themselves following in your footsteps.

What Will You Like Most About Them? Storyteller — Light : Ability to Experience and Express Life through Stories and Symbols. Prince — Light : Romantic Charm and Potential for Power. Poet — Light : Expresses Soul Insights in Symbolic Language. Hermit — Light : Seeks Solitude to Focus Intently on Inner Life. Serves Personal Creativity.

Your future spouse is someone who expresses and feels love in an incredibly artistic manner. They have a secret, hopeless romantic inside. It's not just modern love; it's almost like you both worship each other, which I find incredibly beautiful. Seeing you in such a light will lead them to see you in other things, like art pieces or written words. They love you wholeheartedly. Adding on, creatively, you'll complement each other well. One side may lean towards being artistic and dreamy, while the other is innovative and a bit nerdy. You are both bound to swoon over each other.

What Will You Like Most About Them? Eagle : All-Pervading Power, Truth Seeker, Transforms Karma, Bright, Radiant, Challenger. Tiger : Lunar Force, Ease in Darkness, Passionate, Strong, Sensual.

With the eagle card, I'm not picking up on what you'll like about them, but rather another message about how you'll spark intense curiosity in them. You will inspire them to enlighten themselves and become an even better version of themselves with your teachings and guidance. Now, for the next card, this is something you'll definitely appreciate about them. I don't sense that this person will be shy when it comes to intimacy, in any form, and they won't hold back in showing how they love you.

Extra : Journaling, Eye Contact, Flowers, Parallel Play, Running Fingers Through Hair, Late Mornings, Poetry, Leaving Notes.

Best Mistake : Ariana Grande. | Movement : Hozier.

PILE TWO

What Will They Like Most About You Physically? Eyes, Hair, Piercings, Harmonious Features.

Your future spouse believes that your hair and features complement each other perfectly, creating harmony. Your hair may frame your face. They'll enjoy gazing into your eyes, possibly because of the connection they feel or simply because they find them captivating, whether it's the shape, color, or both. If you have an alternative style, such as piercings, tattoos, or darker attire, they find it very alluring.

What Will They Like Most About You Mentally? Wit, Sneaky, Bookworm, Deep-Thinker, Reserved, Needy.

This person views you as a fox, sly, clever, and witty, and they're drawn to that energy. They appreciate your complexity and the fact that you're not always straightforward; it keeps things interesting. They enjoy being challenged intellectually. However, they also appreciate the softer side of you when you're relaxed and in need, and they'll gladly cater to you. I imagine them watching you as you indulge in your hobbies, eager to hear you gush about your interests.

What Will They Like Most About You? Advocate — Light : Inspires You to Put Compassion into Action. Poet — Light : Expresses Soul Insights in Symbolic Language. Child : Nature — Light : Friendships with Animals. Communication with Nature Spirits.

Whatever way you choose to create and express yourself, whether, through art, music, or even activities like photography, they'll find it intriguing. They admire both your process and the results you achieve. This person will always be your supporter. You might work with animals, and they appreciate your gentleness and kindness towards them, or perhaps animals hold significance in your connection.

What Will They Like Most About You? Nightingale : Fearless Voice, Speech, Communication, or Song. Sings and Speaks Freely with Kindness. Moth : Impulsive, Hasty, Wishful, Enthusiastic, Whimsical.

When I pulled the cards, I initially wrote down the wrong definition for the nightingale. I've corrected it, but I thought the previous message might still resonate. If you're someone naturally very curious and actively trying to learn, they'll follow right behind you. They're loyal, just like you, and will start doing things you do because they're inspired by your enthusiasm and positivity. If you were drawn to pile one, I'd recommend giving it a read as well. You may find something there because these piles are quite similar.

An additional message is that you and your future spouse will connect through music, whether it's listening together or separately. So, you could be receiving signs now through songs.

What Will You Like Most About Them Physically? Texture of Hair, Tone of Skin, Height, Prominent Nose, Dyed Hair.

I sense your future spouse might have an alternative style as well, but it's not a must. If you're into dyed hair, they'll likely have it They could change colors with the seasons to suit their skin tone, or the color they have fits them year-round. You will enjoy the feel of their hair due to the texture which causes you to play with it. Generally, if you're taller than average, they'll be shorter, and if you're average height, they'll be similar. Either way, you'll like looking down at them or meeting their gaze directly.

Once again, whether you're drawn to pile one or not, I'd suggest going back and giving it a read as well. While the energies differ, I sense the message is similar. I feel like this pile is suited for individuals with eccentric tastes.

What Will You Like Most About Them Mentally? Sweetheart, Odd Humor, Confident, Adaptable, Ambivert, Clingy.

You and your future spouse will be inseparable, attached to the hip, if not driven by their clinginess then it's your own. It's something that makes both of you feel secure. They are the type to talk your ear off. This person's humor leans towards the darker or drier side. They might find everything amusing, but particularly society's less-than-normal aspects.

What Will You Like Most About Them? Networker — Light : Enchanted Unity through the Sharing of Informations. Engenders Social Awareness and Empathy. Gossip — Light : Awakens Consideration for the Feeling of Others. Honoring Trust.

I wasn't kidding when I said your future spouse will talk your ear off. They are quite the chatterbox. They'll be a drama queen, regardless of gender, but I think it's in a very playful and goofy way. You'll find it charming. They'll get super excited and giddy when they have a juicy secret to share with you. They're such a sweetheart that they would never intend any negativity, just relaying information without passing genuine judgment.

What Will You Like Most About Them? Octopus : Reaching, Yearning, Lacking Boundaries and Direction. Getting into Other People's Business and Sharing Their Own. Interested, Engaged. Wolf : Guardian of Family and Tribe. Activism, Ritual, Reliable, Fearless, Democratic. Embrace All, Exclude None.

What have I been saying? This person cracks me up. You'll adore how dependable they are, always a shoulder to cry on or a pillar of stability for you and others. They're just a people person. I sense they could become overly sensitive, requiring alone time. They tend to overshare, which is amusing when it's just the two of you, but you might need to help them rein it in around others. They can be a bit oblivious to social cues and may need some guidance when they're pushing the boundaries.

I sense they're internally extroverted but can get overwhelmed and find it difficult to handle social situations, even if they desire socialization.

Extra : Movie Nights, Bubble Baths, Parks, Sunshine, Wheezing, Glasses Perched on Nose, Comfort through Affection, Wrapped in a Blanket, Cheek Kisses.

Valentine : Laufey. | November : Sparkbird.

PILE THREE

What Will They Like Most About You Physically? Glow, Eyebrows, Lips, Your Frame.

Your future spouse will be drawn to the glow you exude. They find your bright personality radiating through every aspect of you, from your skin's natural shine to your expressive eyes and the curve of your lips. Even the way you carry yourself captivates them, unintentionally flaunting, which catches their attention.

What Will They Like Most About You Mentally? Innocent, Active, Hardworking, Compassion.

Firstly, they hold you dear, especially if you're not one to pause or slow down due to your hardworking nature. You could have somewhat of an innocent worldview—not that you don't understand hardship, but you maintain a strength and light that others lack. They'll absolutely love this side of you and cherish you.

What Will They Like Most About You? Fool — Light : Fearlessly Revealing Emotion. Helping People Laugh at Absurdity and Hypocrisy. Warrior — Light : Strength, Skill, Disipline, and Toughness of Will. Heroism, Stoicism, and Self-Sacrifice in Conquering the Ego. Mediator — Light : Gift for Negotiating Fairness and Strategy in Personal and Professional Life. Respect for Both Sides of an Arguement.

Your future spouse will admire how, despite being a logical person, you're not afraid to show emotion when necessary. You navigate life with a balance of logic and emotion, displaying good discipline. You're not impulsive and can guide others through hardships without coming across as harsh, bringing lightheartedness and fairness into the mix. They'll find this quality honorable. Your humor always serves as a mediator in situations, never failing to lighten the mood for them and others.

What Will They Like Most About You? Cobra : Pausing, Waiting, The Inner Teacher, A Student of Life, Humble, Wise. Fire Ant : Aggression, Rigid Thinking, Following Orders, Thoughtful, Disciplined, Heat.

Your future partner could have experienced instability with others in the past due to hasty behavior, or they struggle themselves with acting too quickly. On the other hand, you give yourself time, thinking before you act. Yet, when you do move forward, you do so with an assertive and direct demeanor, which makes them grateful they can lean on you for stability.

What Will You Like Most About Them Physically? Nose, Neck / Collar Bone Area, Elegant and Composed, Chin, 'Bunny Beauty'.

Your future spouse has a very approachable appearance. Their face might remind many of a bunny. I imagine this person with a rounder nose and face, perhaps chubby cheeks, but with a prominent chin and jaw instead. They look well put together and carry an elegant quality about them. You'll endlessly adore your partner. It's very cute.

What Will You Like Most About Them Mentally? Bad Mouth, Neat, Stubborn, Loyal.

Their appearance versus their personality could easily turn heads. They seem sweet and soft, but use harsh language often, cussing like a sailor. They look nice but act naughty. They're also incredibly stubborn, which apparently you'll find appealing. You'll anticipate others' reactions when they open their mouth, finding it amusing. As for you, I sense it's the opposite. You might appear a bit intimidating but are actually very gentle.

What Will You Like Most About Them? Detective — Light : Great Powers of Observation and Intuition. Desire to Seek Out the Truth. Midas/Miser — Light : Entrepreneurial or Creative Ability to Turn Anything to Gold. Delight in Sharing Life's Riches.

This person will readily share their wealth or achievements with you. Your future spouse might have a good-paying job, or money could come easily to them, possibly through generational wealth. However, I sense that they just know how to handle money wisely and earn it with help from their well-built knowledge.

I don't get the sense that they're materialistic or chasing money, but rather that they invest in things that make a meaningful impact, like travel or once-in-a-lifetime experiences. They have achieved financial stability, but they also have wealth in terms of nonmaterial things.

What Will You Like Most About Them? Bat : Darkness, Letting Go, Death Leading to Rebirth, Excepts and Adapts, Adjusts. Swan : Effortless, Creativity, Sensitive Mystic, Elegant Power.

Returning to that elegant aura they have, I can't pinpoint exactly what causes it, but it might be because they are highly intuitive and sensitive to others' thoughts and feelings. They easily pick up on these subtleties and can adapt and change accordingly. Despite their effortless beauty, they are a complex person on the inside. You find them to be a puzzle worth solving.

Additional. Another Message.

For a few of you, I believe you may not immediately hit it off with your future spouse. Your composed nature might clash with their boldness, leading to disagreements stemming from stubbornness or a desire for "correct behavior." However, you'll both eventually look past it, but initially, it might feel like something out of an enemies-to-lovers book. It won't be extreme, but it could get a little heated. This could form in a workplace.

[NEVER SETTLE FOR SOMETHING TOXIC. I MEANT SIMPLE BANTER, NOT ABUSIVE BEHAVIOR.]

Extra : Sleek Attire, Slicked Hair, RomCom, Tattoos, Generational Insight/Knowledge, Promise Rings, Military, Dreamy, Shared Earbuds, Sharp Glares and Glances.

Make You Feel Good : Fetty Wap. | Powerful : Major Lazer. | Cry : Cigarettes After Sex.

PILE FOUR

What Will They Like Most About You Physically? Voice, Beauty Marks, Lips, Eyes.

I want to mention that either you or this individual could be a musician, while the other serves as a muse. Whether or not it's you, your future partner will love hearing you sing. They find your everyday speaking voice charming, especially its soft, breathy quality. While eye contact with them may not be 'intense', it feels profoundly connecting and grounding. If you wear makeup, this person likes it. Perhaps it's the shape of your lips or their natural color, but I believe that wearing lipstick or gloss, anything that enhances your features will allure them even more.

What Will They Like Most About You Mentally? Shy, Tender, Well-Versed, Open, Quiet, Devoted.

Aw, I wish I could give you all a hug! You're so tender and gentle in both your words and your actions. You're devoted not only to your loved ones but also to the things that bring you joy. Your future spouse will find this incredibly endearing.

I'm sensing more about how deeply they love you rather than the specifics of what they like. When you meet this person, it'll feel like being showered with affection and passion. They genuinely value every aspect of you and want to express that.

What Will They Like Most About You? Angel — Light : Helping Those In Need with No Expectation of Return. Damsel — Light : Understanding the Nature of Healthy Romance. Inspires You to Rely on Yourself.

You not only embody the qualities of the cards, but I sense that your future spouse will view you as an angel. They might even adopt it as a nickname if you're fond of the idea. You're the shining beacon in their life, their prince/princess, which I admit can sound a bit cheesy or even cringe, but in your case, it's incredibly sincere and pure.

What Will They Like Most About You? Peacock : Inner Beauty, Compassion, Confident, Kind. Gazelle : Heighten Awareness, Ability, Vulnerable, Perceptive, Graceful.

Your future spouse sees you as stunning both on the outside and within. Your physical beauty is undeniable, but it's your soul that truly captivates them. They'll be in awe of its depth and beauty. Your future spouse may gawk awkwardly over you, yet it will be funny.

What Will You Like Most About Them Physically? Physically Expressive, Dewy Skin, 'Cat Beauty', Pout, Clear Skin, Freckles.

This person's skincare routine is godly. Their eyes and gestures are incredibly expressive, drawing people in. You'll notice their natural pout, which adds to their charm. Their features will have a feline or fierce quality, with high cheekbones, defined features, and possibly a smaller yet thick nose. They might also have a longer face or narrow eyes.

What Will You Like Most About Them Mentally? Funny, Loner, Eccentric, Sensitive, Humble.

Your person is a bit of an oddball, in the best way. They embrace their inner nerd or geek often. Your personalities are a perfect match, and I can see you both enjoying plenty of alone time together because you don't drain each other's social batteries. They're self-aware and true to themselves, no matter what.

What Will You Like Most About Them? Don Juan — Light : Spotlights Your Positive Seductive Qualities. Child : Eternal — Light : Determination to Remain Young in Body, Mind, and Spirit. Ability to See Things with Fresh Eyes. Guide — Light : Represents the Nature of the Divine in Life and in Yourself.

While they may seem reserved, this person radiates confidence when they're with you. They know how to play their cards right—they can talk the talk and walk the walk. But underneath it all, they're playful and childlike at heart. No matter how old they get, they'll always carry a lighthearted and curious energy, like a kid. Life with them will never be boring.

What Will You Like Most About Them? Black Egg : Speaking from an Authentic Voice, Truth. Bee : Earnest, Hard-Working, Content, Vibrant.

Your future spouse will be an honest person, always speaking their inner truth, even with strangers. They're not afraid to be vibrant, and I have a feeling that will influence you as well. Communication is important to them in this life. As I mentioned earlier, they could be a musician. If not, with their persuasive skills, they could find success as a public speaker or influencer of some sort.

Extra : Spying From Corners or Doorways [Playfully, of course], Singing, Puppy Dog/Pleading Eyes, Feather-Light Touch, Pinky Promise, Junk Drawer, Piggy Bank.

Don’t Be Afraid : Carpenters. | Brooklyn : Lana Del Rey.

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soft-vainilla

1 year ago

Grain of truth

*the picture used in the banner is no indication for how the Reader looks, it only serves the vibe of the story, it’s not a description

Soft!Dark Alpha Steve Rogers x Omega Reader

Summary: You’re content with your quiet, peaceful life, but it suddenly becomes dangrously intense when an alpha, Steve Rogers, forces himself into it. You never believed nor seeked out the old fairytales of true mates, but Steve will make you admit there’s a grain of truth in every fairytale.

Warnings: For the first chapter merely hints of dub-con. In general for the rest of the story: soft!dark Steve Rogers; dub-con; A/B/O dynamics; dominance; possessive and controlling behavior; Dom/sub undertones; heat/mating cycles; forced orgasm; orgasm denial; size difference; slight breeding kink;

Main Masterlist

Grain of Truth Masterlist

Part One

word count: 4k

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

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3K notes View Post

soft-vainilla

1 year ago

playing cupid.

Carlos Sainz x Reader [Warnings: Mentions of sex and some curse words. There are some inaccuracies, such as in this short story, Carlos has an apartment in Milan] Word Count: 9.7K

You're in this situationship with Carlos Sainz—no fuss, no drama, just sex. But then your dads become friends, and Sainz Sr., with a soft spot for you, decides to introduce you to his son, whom you've been... acquainted with for a while. To make things more interesting, he's on a mission to play Cupid, all while Carlos enjoys the thrill of keeping your little secret, playing along with his dad.

this was a request! always feel free to request and if i have some free time, I'll try to write something 🫶🏼

“Apparently, our dads met”, you say, rolling off Carlos's lap, still flushed and your breath ragged. The soft bed cushions your fall as you curl up beneath the deep blue blanket that usually adorns the foot of Carlos's bed, but this time is just part of the mess.

Carlos studies you with a faint frown, tousled hair spilling over his forehead. He looks incredibly handsome, basking in the afterglow of your encounter. If it weren’t for the late hour and your impending early morning, you would consider straddling him again. However, it’s nearly 2 a.m. and you need to be at the atelier by 9, so you just wish to sleep.

“Really?” There’s an undertone you don’t quite understand.

“What?”

"You just killed the mood.” He lays back on the bed and turns to face you. His hands seek out your shoulder, and his nimble fingers begin tracing delicate patterns on your skin, a clear indication that he’s not ready to let the night end just yet. “Mentioning my dad right after I cum inside you? Not exactly what I expect.”

“I just remembered it, and now I know you’ll get your hands off of me and let me sleep.”

“Oh, that’s not what I was expecting, as well.”

You pout, mocking him. “Poor you,” he rolls his eyes and falls dramatically against his pillow. “I’m just expecting a good night of sleep because some of us have work to do during the week and not just on weekends.” He cocks an eyebrow at you. “Oh, I’m sorry. I know that sometimes you work during the week.”

Carlos opens his mouth to retort, but he doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence. In an instant, he sits up, looming over you, and seizes both your wrists, pinning them against the headboard. With his other hand, he's ready to tug the blanket over your form.

"Don't you dare tickle me, Carlos Sainz. Or I swear to God—"

"What are you going to do?" Carlos interrupts, his mischievous grin returning. As you lock eyes with him, you realize there's very little you can do, and oddly enough, you're entirely fine with that. Except,

"Spit in your face."

His playful smirk remains as he leans in closer, his voice a sultry whisper. "Spit in my face, huh?” he taunts, his fingers inching closer to your sides. “Think I’m going to risk it.”

"Sainz,” you squirm under his touch, desperately trying to maintain your composure. But he’s already grinning, and his fingers are approaching your sides. “I'm warning you..."

And suddenly, it's too late. He pounces, his fingers dancing across your sides, and you burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter, some of them louder than you expected them to be. Carlos knows all your ticklish spots, and he exploits them shamelessly. It’s been what…? Four months since you first slept together. By now he knows your body better than any guy ever did. And honestly, you’re not sure what to feel about that.

"Carlos, stop!" you manage to gasp between laughter, trying to wriggle free from his grip. It's a futile effort as he continues his relentless assault, determined to elicit every giggle and squeal he can from you.

Finally, he relents, his laughter joining yours as he releases your wrists. You pant for breath, your cheeks flushed from both the laughter and the earlier efforts. You take the opportunity to jump out of bed. “You’re the worst. I gotta pee.”

You disappear into the bathroom, to pee, clean yourself and try to comb your hair, and by the time you go back to the bedroom, you’re expecting him to be asleep. But you find him awake. His eyes shine brighter when you go through the door, and he watches you with a tender smile as you enter the bed and curl against him, fitting perfectly into his embrace.

The warmth of his body against you is comforting.

"I think I'll let you sleep now," he voices low in your ear, as he pulls over the comforter and covers you both.

"You better.”

Carlos's chest rises and falls rhythmically beneath your cheek as you nestle closer. You can hear the faint hum of his heartbeat, and it lulls you into a peaceful state. He smells like Bleu de Chanel and the lingering traces of your passion. With every breath, you inhale the essence of the man who has woven himself into the fabric of your life, in more ways than one.

Just as you're about to close your eyes and drift off to sleep, it hits you like lightning—the visit your mom mentioned, the whole reason you brought up his dad’s name.

You nudge Carlos gently, rousing him from his half-asleep state. "Just remembered something."

Carlos doesn’t even open his eyes. "Hmm?”

“My dad invited yours over,” you were not sure if you should be excited or nervous. Not for the visit itself, but for Carlos’ reaction to the idea of you meeting his dad.

After all, you had just been sleeping together, barely leaving your apartments, except for that one time he took you out to dinner, and that was probably because it was your birthday and perhaps Carlos would feel bad about just booty-calling you and ignoring the whole birthday thing.

“Well, that’s a nice way to introduce you to him.”

“What?”

Carlos just pressed you closer to him, like you weren’t practically glued together already. "It's okay, cariño. They’ll love you. Now sleep."

It all started at Milan Fashion Week when Carlos was representing Ferrari at an event. You were there, lurking in the shadows, taking in the magic of the fashion show. Your mentor had gotten you there, a favour you'll always be grateful for. There's a lot you can't remember about the event, about the whole night to be fair, but you remember the man awkwardly sitting in the front row. Fashion is not his thing, you thought. You kind of knew that. You kind of knew him.

He drives for Ferrari, he's handsome, he has a thick Spanish accent and hair I would pay to touch.

And that was more than enough to make you introduce yourself at the end of the show. From there, making out in a club took a little more than two hours. To his bed, just a little bit more than that.

You continued to see each other, booty-calling each other when you were feeling horny, bored, or just lonely. Your situationship was a good deal for both parties. No strings attached, which you enjoyed because you had little time and no patience to make any kind of effort to actually maintain a relationship. And Carlos, well... he was also busy as hell, so... all good. So you never went on dates, never needed to put on expectable amounts of makeup for over-the-top dresses. Except for your birthday, when he decided to take you out, and you had to make the effort. But that was your birthday.

Other than that, you would only leave your apartments to go get food at a 24-hour store or McDonald's. You remember that one time you wanted gelato and Carlos took you to his favourite place in Milan, but... other than that, it was just sex. Okay, just sex and marathons of Game of Thrones and House of The Dragon (that led to more sex) and some cooking too. You once taught him how to make your nana's lasagna and how a true Italian bruschetta is done. And a few days later, he cooked you his mom's carbonara—not a real carbonara, not at all. And, let’s be fair, he often brought you pizza from your favourite place in Milano and expensive bottles of wine.

But… “That’s a nice way to introduce you to him”?

You were not expecting that at all.

The idea lingered in your mind all night, and you woke up thinking about it too. You left his apartment while Carlos was still in the shower, just shouting goodbyes while you gathered your stuff and ran to the atelier. He would be out of town for a couple of weeks, away at some races, and you would have time to figure out how your parents met and when said visit was going to happen. All good.

Turns out you didn't have as much time as you thought.

That afternoon, your mom calls you, excitedly recounting their amazing trip to Canada and how much fun your dad had at the race. So, that was where they met. She also shares her plans about taking your brothers to Monza in a couple of months. You nod absentmindedly, your attention more focused on the magazine in front of you than on her words. It's often like this.

Your dad travels for work and actually works. He's a sports manager, deeply passionate about football and motorsports, especially Formula 1. Lately, he's been leaning more towards the latter, especially since he's contemplating retirement. On the other hand, your mom, an ex-model who married a well-off man, has chosen to focus on being a wife and a mother, a role she fulfils with dedication. So, when they’re back home, dad has work to do, contacts to keep and your mom has… well, more than enough time to tell you everything.

"And your dad and Sainz met at the golf course, you know?" your mom continues, her voice full of admiration. "A charming young man. He was golfing with his dad too. Your father had to tell them you refused to join him on the greens."

"In that, he's absolutely right."

"So, they kept talking. They even played together, I think. And he mentioned we were going to the race, and Sainz suggested he could call, and he'd arrange a garage tour. We met him at the paddock, but we ended up not getting the tour because there were already enough guests in there, but… Isn't he just amazing? And so incredibly handsome, piccina. So handsome."

You cringe inwardly at your mom's thirst for Carlos, unable to shake the image of her ogling your... friend. But you hum in response, unable to voice your discomfort because the next moment, she's raving about a dress she bought for you and the amazing designer she met in New York just before returning to Milan, and that topic steals all attention.

But just before she’s about to hang out, you remember why she called you in the first place.

“Mom, about the visit you mentioned? The dinner?” you interject and she chuckles; you can almost envision her rubbing her temples.

"Oh, silly me. I actually called you to discuss that," she sighs. "He's coming to visit us this weekend! You have to come home and meet him; he's really looking forward to getting to know you."

"Doesn't he race this weekend?"

"The young—Since when do you care about F1?"

"I don't. I just—” You quickly think of something, but you’re not quite sure if you want to tell your mother that you’ve been fucking Sainz. The younger one. Of course. “I saw something on Twitter."

"Oh, I see. Well,” she clicks her tongue. “It's his dad who's coming. Weren’t you listening? And his mom. We invited them both. Your dad wants to take him to the club and network a bit and you know… I’m always down for making friends and Reyes seems like a lovely woman. She wasn’t there, but I’ve heard about her around. Even her name is super elegant. Isn’t it?” Once again, you hum, frowning, thinking about the movie where you just found yourself in. “So, please, come home.”

“Noted. So, this weekend?”

“Yes. Do you need Dad to pick you up tomorrow after work?”

You move in your seat. “I’m just so busy with work right now, mom. The new collection and—” She cleans her throat and you just nod to the empty room. “Okay. Yes, please, tell Dad to pick me up.”

Of course, the second you hang up you text Carlos. He’s probably busy, it’s Thursday so he’s doing interviews or something, and, as you expected, he doesn’t reply to your text right away. Despite everything, he doesn’t take too long.

Not surprisingly, he’s very nonchalant about it all.

hot wheels guy: just tell them we know each other, no big deal hot wheels guy: and we’ll tell them more when i’m back

But, yeah… You can’t help but frown looking at the phone. He’s golfed with your dad, met your mom, met again with your dad and he’s not even feeling weird about it all?

you: hm? no? hot wheels guy: why not? you: you went golfing with my dad!!! hot wheels guy: and? hot wheels guy: how would i guess he was your dad? you: how many Y/LN do you think there are in milan? you: he told you he’s from milan!! there are not a lot of us in here hot wheels guy: do you have any idea of how many people i meet every weekend? you: 🙄 hot wheels guy: stop being a brat you: 🙄 hot wheels guy: i don’t see a problem in golfing with your dad hot wheels guy: is that supposed to be weird? you: YES !!!! hot wheels guy: stop being dramatic hot wheels guy: if they say anything, tell them you know me hot wheels guy: if they don’t, don’t you: they will hot wheels guy: so you know what to do

Friday’s dinner went exceptionally well, with conversations flowing effortlessly between food and wine, despite the inevitable sports-centric discussions that seemed to dominate the evening. Your brothers were beyond ecstatic to have Carlos Sr. as a guest in their home. They'd had their fair share of famous athletes sitting at the family table, but never had they been as excited as they were when Carlos Sr. entered the house. As a result, you found yourself somewhat on the sidelines, listening more than speaking throughout the meal.

And you were grateful for that.

The same didn’t happen on Saturday. Your dad took the morning to showcase some of your work and discuss your future prospects in the fashion industry with both Carlos and Reyes. In what you think was a gesture of gratefulness, Reyes displayed a lot of interest in your little atelier, located by the pool, in what used to be a shed for the gardener. So, you spent the morning around there, talking with them about fashion and business, and then joined them for lunch in one of your dad’s favourite restaurants.

Let's be fair, you have an extraordinary way with words and a charm that makes your mother proud. It was easy for you. By the time dinner came, you were already adored by the Sainzes. Without making an effort, you found yourself talking about art and travel, and letting Sainz Sr. explain to you the magic and the challenges of Dakar.

However, it isn’t until the next morning that you find yourself alone with him.

You both sat down for breakfast on the patio, and he’s now engrossed in reading the newspaper, while you’re drinking your cappuccino and doing your best to ignore the fact that the man sitting in front of you is, in essence, your… fuckbuddy’s dad.

There’s the usual “good morning” and the “hope you got some rest”, to which the guest always has some lovely comment to say about the bed, or the room, or the house in general. It’s an amazing guest house, you have to admit. And Sainz is no expectation. You exchange a couple of pleasantries and he’s back at reading the news, so you let your guard down.

Then, unexpectedly, Carlos Sr. turns his attention from the newspaper and directs it squarely at you. Grey eyebrows lifting at the same pace his eyes fill with a weird glint.

“I would love to introduce you to my son,” he says, and a faint frown tugs at your lips as words form in your throat, only to wither away unspoken. "I'm not implying anything," he says with a hint of amusement in his voice, "just that I believe the two of you would get along well."

You respond hesitantly, "Oh, I know him."

"I know you know him," he laughs, and you realise that something might have gotten lost in translation because when he talks again he says, "But what I mean is that you should meet. I'll make sure to introduce you two next time we're all in town."

And well, you feel too embarrassed to correct him, so you just smile and mumble an “I can’t wait. Excuse me”, before getting up from the table and sprinting up to your room.

you: great news. your dad wants to introduce us you: what do i do?

He takes a couple of hours to text back.

hot wheels guy: why didn’t you tell him you know me already? you: i tried to!

The next time you’re all in town happens one week and a half from there, when Carlos is finally back in Italy after a few races and a couple of days in Madrid. And, because the universe is a pain in the ass, you’re swarmed with work to the point you’ve been falling asleep right after dinner, even before the time Carlos usually rings you up.

It’s a terrible schedule.

You’ve been waking up at 5 am to be by the seamstress at 7, to have some work ready to show at 9 am, between your mentor’s arrival at the atelier and the time he leaves for some meeting or brunch with models somewhere in Milan. Somehow, during that interval, he has time to break your work to pieces, destroying it (and destroying you in the process) with criticism. Critique leaves you on the verge of tears, and by the end of the day, you’re a mess—stressed, irritable and utterly exhausted. Not to mention the ever-present sexual frustration, with vivid dreams of a certain Spaniard leaving you hot and bothered in your sleep.

The perfect recipe for a restless night.

Apparently, Carlos got to Milan on Wednesday, because that night you woke up at midnight on your couch, a half-empty glass of wine by your side, your unfinished sketches scattered before you and three missed calls from Carlos, accompanied by a series of texts. Thursday, the same happened. The texts were nothing too dramatic, just variations of “u up?”, “cmon its 10 pm”, and “you can’t be asleep”.

On both days, in your half-sleep haze, you manage to reply as you shuffle your way to your bedroom something similar to “sory, talktomorrw”.

And then Friday arrives, and your calendar pings with the reminder that in one hour your dad will be picking you up for dinner. You’re sitting on your vanity and already dreading the day your dad decided to go to Montreal.

You’re not feeling it.

Firstly, you have to slather on a ton of make-up just to feel decent. Your dark circles are as pronounced as ever, you’re skin is pale and your acne is acting up, probably all due to the lack of sun, sleep, rest of any food that isn’t reheated pizza or store-bought noodles.

So, yes, the prospect of dinner and being introduced as Carlos’ whatever doesn’t exactly lift your spirits.

The anticipation gawns at you as you finish getting ready. You can’t shake the feeling of unease, a nagging doubt that you’re about to step into a situation that might be more than you signed up for. Carlos’ dad seems nice enough, and his mom absolutely adores you, but this is different, especially because his dad is expecting to introduce you and well… you’re way past that.

As you stare at your reflection, you take a deep breath and remind yourself that this isn't just about you. Your brothers are looking forward to meeting Carlos, and your dad seems genuinely excited about his friendship with his dad. So, you summon a smile, albeit a forced one, and decide to make the most of this evening, even if you're not entirely sure what to expect.

Yeah. Scratch that. The dinner is about you.

As you approach the restaurant, a different sense of anticipation washes over you. It feels like a scene from a movie where you're about to meet an arranged husband. The Sainz family stands by the door, engaged in lively conversation. Reyes waves at you when she sees you making your way to them.

Your eyes naturally gravitate toward Carlos. Firstly, because you kind of miss him. It’s been a while since you last saw him and there’s no point in looking for comfort somewhere else, so you are, let's say… slightly needy. And secondly, because he’s clad in a baby blue button-up and pristine white pants. A vision. You're only human, after all, with eyes and perhaps a few too many hormones.

In summary: You’re fucked. Dinner will be fun.

From your back and close to your ear, a whisper arises. “Be nice,” your mom says. As you turn to her, her lips are curling into a wide smile. “Carlos! Reyes! Such a delight to see you both again. And, Carlos,” she turns to the younger one, “it’s an absolute pleasure to finally see you in a more personal environment.”

You take a deep breath.

Your brothers, bursting with energy, practically race each other to get to Carlos, almost taking you down in the process. He skillfully engages them in conversation, a grin playing on his lips, until your mom intervenes.

"Now, now, boys. You'll have plenty of time to chat," she chuckles. Your mom swiftly moves your overeager brothers and offers an apologetic smile to Carlos. "Apologies, they're just excited.”

“No problem,” he says, in Italian, something he doesn’t do often when he’s alone with you. He claims he still needs to learn dirty talk in Italian. You love to teach him by whispering it into his ear. More than that, you love watching his face as he slowly grasps their meaning.

Your dad, then, approaches him for a way-too-manly handshake, but a warm smile reigns on his lips. “Carlos, great to see you again.”

“Thank you, sir. Likewise.”

In the meantime, you went to Reyes. She graced you with a compliment, a kiss on the cheek and the promise to visit your atelier in the near future. Then, it’s time for her husband, and you’re already wearing your best smile because that man is beaming as he’s watching you.

“My dear,” after two kisses on the cheeks, he slightly turns to Carlos. “So nice to see you again. Son,” he calls, and Carlos turns to you, his smile radiant, his eyes sparkling under the warm, ambient lights of the restaurant. “Let me introduce you to Y/N.”

"You're even more beautiful than my mom described," he remarks, his words catching you off guard. You manage to suppress the urge to roll your eyes, opting instead for a faint smile. “My dad has shared so much about you. Couldn’t wait to meet you.”

A surge of mixed emotions washes over you. On one hand, there's a twinge of frustration that he didn't tell his family about your connection, correcting your mistake and saving you from embarrassment. Yet, as his adoring gaze meets yours, it's hard not to be swept away by his warm compliments.

“Oh,” you murmur, feeling something shift inside you. Your own words surprise you, leaving you momentarily at a loss. "Thank you. Likewise."

Unknown to you, you echo almost exactly what Carlos had just said to your dad. The similarity draws a chuckle from Senior, who seems to find the exchange quite entertaining. Carlos chuckles as well and motions to the restaurant with his head.

“Should we?”

As the evening progresses, you can't help but steal glances at Carlos when you think no one is looking. You catch his eye occasionally, and he responds with subtle winks and sly smirks that send shivers down your spine. It's almost like a secret language only the two of you understand. He’s sitting in front of you, of course.

“Piccina,” your mom calls. “Why don’t you tell Carlos about your job?”

With a smile, you turned to face Carlos. He raises his eyebrows in curiosity, and you have to take a second before answering. He’s no stranger to your job. Not at all. Sometimes he even lands a helping hand, providing some foot massages while you’re working through tight deadlines and he doesn’t take “no” for an answer when he asks if he can come over.

So you simply say, “I’m a fashion designer.”

“Oh,” it’s the polite oh, not the filled-with-curiosity one. You know he’s about to say something stupid when his tongue peeks through his lips and the corner of his lips starts raising, moulding his mouth in a smirk. “So you just play dress-up for a living?”

Laughter bubbled up from one of your brothers, earning him a scolding look from your mom. They’re just nine, which makes them fifteen years younger than you. Fondly referred to as "an accident" by your parents, they were the light of your life, even if they were quite the whirlwind.

“And you, Carlos, you just play with cars on the weekends?” Carlos's eyes gleamed with mischief as he looked down, a chuckle escaping him. Sr. Carlos wore a pleased smile, and a delightful warmth settled in your belly.

"Some might find it hard to believe, but we do manage to squeeze in some actual work during the week," Carlos chimed in, earning a laugh from you. "Have you ever been to a race?”

“No, and I don’t intend to.”

"The boys are the true racing enthusiasts,” your dad chimes in. “The girls prefer to stay at home, or walk around when we travel for a Grand Prix.”

Turning to you, Carlos's eyes danced with mischief. You remembered a previous conversation where he'd tried to persuade you to attend the Italian Grand Prix, just a few weeks away. Wanting to stop him, because he’s so predictable that you just know what he’s about to say, you try to change the subject.

“Talking about races, are you playing on doing Dakar again next year, Signore?”

Carlos dismisses your question right away. "I think your perspective might change once you experience a Grand Prix firsthand.”

And this time, Carlos Sr. joins him. "Why not extend an invitation for them to visit the garage? I'm sure the kids will love the opportunity. And, Y/N, I’m sure you’ll find it all exciting. You seem like a curious girl.”

Carlos beamed. "Consider this an invitation. I can't wait to have you all there.”

Your brothers practically have a collective stroke, their young minds struggling to process the idea of visiting Carlos in the garage. As for your dad, despite his time in the paddock, had never had the chance to visit the Ferrari garage, so, despite keeping his composure, you know how much it means to him—he’s undeniably the most fervent tifoso you'd ever known.

With a grateful smile, you spoke up. "That's incredibly kind of you. Thank you.”

Carlos leans comfortably against his Alfa Romeo parked in easy reach of your dad’s Audi. Your brothers are sleeping in the back seat, while your parents conclude their chat. They’re getting along well, which is weird but comforting to some degree.

You shoot Carlos a serious glance. “How much longer are you going to keep up with this little thing you started?”

“Me? May I remind you that you were the one who didn’t tell him we met?” You roll your eyes at his words and grab the door knob. “Wait. Don’t you see he’s trying to set us up?”

“And?”

“Play along. Let him have it.”

There's a moment of silent understanding, the shared secret between you adding an extra layer of intimacy. Despite it all, you crack a smile.

“You’re so childish.” You say. “You’ll be the one who’s gonna tell him.”

“I’ll tackle that when we get there,” Carlos assures. And slowly, a playful glint shines in his eyes. “Should I swing by your place on my way home?”

“No way. I have work tomorrow, a lot of work to do and I can’t afford to be tired to do it.”

He tilts his head thoughtfully. “You can stay at mine, then. And I could drive you to work. It’ll give you an extra thirty minutes of sleep.”

You chuckle, impressed by his attention to detail. “You don’t even know where I work.”

“Of course, I do,” he assures.

That’s new. “Well,” you take a deep breath and discreetly hand him over your apartment keys. “I won’t ring the bell because the old lady on my floor will listen and I think she’s spying on me. I’ll call when I’m there.”

As you're about to bid him goodnight, your dad's voice calls out from a distance, catching Carlos's attention. He waves warmly and flashes a friendly smile, which Carlos mimics.

“Golf on Sunday?” your dad asks.

Carlos's eyes light up with enthusiasm. “Absolutely! Can't wait!”

You can't help but interject, “Golfing with my dad, again? What the heck are you doing?”

Carlos grins. “Finding a golfing partner, since someone here,” he gestures playfully at you, “refuses to join me. And unfortunately, my dad isn't always around in Italy to tag along.”

You roll your eyes in mock exasperation. “Alright, Sainz. Nice to meet you. See you soon.”

He drives you to work and to your surprise, he actually knows where that is. How? You can’t tell. Apparently, he also remembers that you bring breakfast for your mentor on Saturdays because just before he drops you off, he offers to join you for a few minutes, just to pick up breakfast with you.

“Since you’ve got no time to eat with me, I’ll just tag along and annoy you for ten minutes more.”

You let him enter the coffee shop with you and he hovers on your back while you order two moccas and two brownies to go with it. Your mentor is not picky, and this Saturday breakfast tradition only started because you wanted to thank him for granting you a few hours from his weekend to help you with your designs. Technically, it’s not work, but it’s just as demanding.

You can feel Carlos’ breath against your hair, and the faint smell of his cologne, still hanging in his shirt from the previous night. This morning, the buttons are undone, and the sleeves are folded up. His hair is tousled and his beard is imperfect. Yet he’s the most handsome man around.

“First time picking up breakfast together,” he says as you’re walking towards the door. “Is this the equivalent to marriage in your dictionary?”

“Don’t make me regret all the past decisions I’ve made.”

“Hm,” he hums, tilting his head. “What could I possibly make you regret?”

“Simply the fact of accepting to be introduced to you,” You let an exaggerated sigh leave your lips. “I’m living the nightmare all over again.”

Just before leaving a kiss on your cheek, he whispers. “Didn’t sound like a nightmare when I made you come thrice last night, baby. But go off.” He then kisses you on the cheek. “Have a good day.”

Carlos is too busy that night, and your Sunday is reserved for a family gathering. By Monday, you're back to your routine of nodding off right after dinner, so by the time Tuesday arrives, you’re already missing him. Not him—just his body in your bed, the sensation of his thick lips sliding down your navel and the sound of your name rolling off his tongue, wrapped up in that beautiful deep Spanish accent of his. You know he’s driving next weekend, so you spend all Wednesday staring at your phone, trying to summon a text from him.

When it finally pings, around 5 pm, it’s from your dad.

papà: heading to squash in an hour. up for a game? papà: no use in saying no papà: you already missed two weeks you: 🙄🙄🙄 you: i’ll meet you there!

You were the one who introduced your dad to squash, and gradually, it evolved into a bonding activity for both of you. Words don't flow easily with him, and you’re not great at demonstrating feelings so it’s difficult to connect with your dad. On top of that, you moved out really early. Slowly squash became a great way to connect and have quality time with him, release some steam, and stay in shape.

“I’m surprised. You never mentioned that you play squash,” a voice chimes in from behind, and you can't help but let out a sigh when you turn around.

It's Carlos, donned in a stupidly tight turquoise shirt that perfectly hugs and draws the contour of his chest, and sporting the briefest shorts you've ever seen him wear. He smiles. He knows he looks hot.

“How could I?” You reply, trying to not showcase how weak your knees just turned. “We only met like… five days ago.”

Carlos chuckles. “You’re funny. Did I tell you that yet?”

“Hmmm. You haven’t had the chance, yet.”

Sainz Sr. approaches you both, moving at a leisurely pace, absorbed in his phone. When he looks up, his frown disappears and an adoring smile takes his lips. His hand rests on his son’s shoulder as he remarks, “Didn’t I tell you today would be a perfect day for a match?”

Carlos turns to you, raising an eyebrow. "You did. What a coincidence.”

"Indeed," you chime in. "May I challenge you, sir? My dad’s still on a call and I have no partner."

“Oh, Carlos can join you,” he suggests with a nod in Carlos’ direction. “I’ll wait for your dad. We have some matters to discuss. Carry on, you two.”

Of. Course.

As the two of you step onto the squash court, the competitive glint in Carlos' eyes is hard to miss. And the tension in the air is palpable, you feel it in your bones. But you take a deep breath and push it aside, focusing on the game ahead.

"Why the sudden cold shoulder?" Carlos inquires as you prepare to start.

You glance at him, puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm getting radio silence from you—no calls, no texts. You're not picking up my calls, either. What’s going on?"

You roll your neck, trying to ease the tension. Yesterday you just collapsed onto your couch, once again. You were living in survival mode. And wouldn’t be there playing if it wasn't a long-standing tradition with your dad.

"Work's been keeping me busy," you shrug.

It's not entirely a lie. But it’s not totally true either.

Let’s see—you've been involved in this situationship for almost five months now, seeing each other sporadically, sometimes even daily, if Carlos is in Milan. Yet, it's all so casual. You can recall the day he mentioned introducing you to his parents, of course. As a matter of fact, that talk has been looping in your mind for the last few days, but… it was a joke. Right? Sure it was. Why would he want his parents to meet his... whatever?

You could have texted him earlier. You would have texted him a few weeks ago, before all this. You can’t quite figure out why you’re panicking and why you’re behaving like a rom-com character, but you are.

"Come on, that excuse won't stick with me."

“Too bad. Can we play?" You grip the racket, twirling it in your hands. You look back, at his dad sitting on the benches, watching you from afar. “Please?”

He lets out a sigh and nods. Finally, you think.

"Is this a date?" he asks, grabbing a ball from his shorts and meeting your gaze.

"No." You're firm, and once again, he frowns. "It's not. For one, you didn't invite me. We just happened to both be here. It's coincidental.” He laughs here, slightly tilting his head back. You both know it is not coincidental. “And two, that's not what we're doing."

He cracks a smile, almost teasing. "So, what are we not doing?"

"The dating thing. We're not dating."

"Aren't we?" He smirks, his tongue peeking out, licking his lips.

You shake your head. "Nope."

"Alright, cool. Just wanted to be clear on that," Carlos replies with a nonchalant shrug, though you detect a glimmer of amusement in his voice. He’s as annoying as he’s pretty.

The first serve is swift and precise. The sound of the ball hitting the wall reverberates through the court. You dive into the game, putting your all into each movement. It's a dance of strategy and agility. You’re exhausted, but you put on a fight, using banter as your weapon. On the outside, your parents are watching, and you can’t help but notice Sainz Sr. is thoroughly enjoying this.

Sweat starts to bead on your foreheads, but neither of you shows any sign of slowing down. He wants to win and well… you want to make him lose. As you play, you steal glances at Carlos, his concentration evident in the set of his jaw and the fire in his eyes, in the curse words he whispers under his breath, ones that frustration draws from him. You’ve heard them before. Oh, God, you’ve heard so much worse. But it all combined? This is a side of him you haven't seen before, and it's exhilarating.

After a particularly intense rally, Carlos manages to secure a point with a deftly placed shot. He smirks, clearly pleased with himself. "You're not making this easy," he remarks.

You grin, determined. "Wouldn't want to go easy on you, now, would I?"

The court echoes with the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor and the thud of the ball hitting the walls. Time seems to blur as you lose yourself in the rhythm of the game. He makes you laugh and shout insults in his direction, to which he laughs.

Finally, after a hard-fought match, Carlos clinches the victory. It's a close call, and you’re about to pass out. It’s a shitty mixture of disappointment and pride. Leaning against the wall of the court, you try toth catch your breath.

"You're pretty good at this," Carlos admits, wiping the sweat from his brow with a towel.

"Yeah, well, I have to stay in shape to keep up with you," you quip.

He chuckles, "Am I that demanding?"

"Am I that demanding?" You repeat, forcing a Spanish accent and a deep voice. He chuckles and stands up straight. "Did your dad tell you to come here today?"

"Yes. For some reason, he really likes you. Like I told you he would."

You can't help but chuckle at Carlos's words. "Well, he’s certainly enjoying playing cupid. But hey, fun game.”

Carlos nods a genuine smile on his face. "Yeah, it was. Finally got to see you outside the flat. It's quite weird to see you with clothes at this point."

"Oh, God, you're such a prick."

He laughs, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Can I drop by later today?"

You glance toward your parents, who are engaged in a lively conversation, and then back at Carlos.

"No. Early morning tomorrow. And I still have work to finish today.” You’re not lying to him, you’re lying to yourself. Even when he’s looking at you with puppy eyes, you don’t go back with your words. Instead, you stand up straight and fix your hair. “Should I expect to coincidently meet you somewhere else in the next few days?"

You know the answer to that question. You know he’s going to be away for two weekends. And you kinda know he knows you know, because when he answers, there’s the faintest smile on his lips.

"I'll be off for two weeks. Hungary and Belgium.”

"Good luck at those, then.”

“Really appreciate it.”

Yeah, so…. That night, Carlos texted you. Not a casual “u up?”, but a “it was so fucking unfair to see you in that skirt and not being able to fuck you in it” and naturally you couldn’t help but to let out an exasperated groan and promptly respond with a “come over.” So, twenty minutes later you were being screwed against your kitchen counter.

And now you’re on the couch, his head buried between your legs, eating you up like a starved man. Yes. You need to be fit to keep up with this man’s stamina. He’s that demanding. But you can’t complain.

It’s been like this. A lot of pleasure. And then a lot of peace of mind.

Afterwards, he reclines on the chaise lounge, scrolling through TV channels, looking for something remotely bearable. You go get your sketch notebook and use his torso as a pillow. He watches tv and you work, until sleep creeps over you and you fall asleep in his arms.

Five months of this. You can’t put a label on it, but you can’t imagine living without it.

Carlos only wakes you up to take you to bed, and that night he sleeps over, sprawled across your bed like a starfish, leaving you clinging to him to not fall over. In the morning, you make out in bed, lazy and sleepy. He fucks you in the shower, and then he’s off again. He texts you when he's at the airport, and once more when he lands in whichever country he's racing in. Meanwhile, you carry on with your everyday life—a bit more mundane than being fuckbuddies with a Scuderia Ferrari driver but just as busy.

As it became regular, you exchange a few texts while he's away. It's become a ritual—complimenting him on how handsome he looks after his sessions, and him requesting a selfie so he can return the favour. He sends you snapshots of random things that made him think of you, and if truth be told, you do the same. You share selfies as you stroll by the Ferrari store in Milan and send him memes (which sometimes require a brief explanation). Without fail, he sends you a good morning and a good night, and whenever you're awake, you make sure to reply.

And life happens for those two weeks.

It’s boring. It’s dull. It’s ordinary.

And then on a Monday evening your bell rings and you can’t help but leave your apartment and wait for him on the landing, right in front of the elevator, not caring if your neighbour is watching through the peephole.

“Missed me?” he quips, already unburdening himself of his backpack as he steps out of the elevator. Sunglasses perched atop his head, skin kissed by the sun, eyes wide like the moon. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen.

“Never,” you jest, but it's a flimsy façade, quickly shattered as you pull him close, urgency coursing through you.

Damn, you've missed him. You crave him.

And he craves you too. He's straightforward in showing it.

After you both shower, you settle on the couch. You ask him about why he had two races that weekend and he teases you because you finally demonstrate an interest in F1, and only then, after you’re insulting him and threatening to not go to Monza, he actually explains to you how a sprint weekend works, but he’s being so nerdy and so adorable and his eyes are sparkling so much that you just get back in his lap and ride him again, but this time slower, and more passionate, like you’re feeling something materialise inside you. And you come on his lap, and he kisses you slowly, and you tell him you actually missed him.

For dinner, you agree on sushi and night falls while you’re watching The Office for the only-God knows-how-many time, curled up in each other and drinking wine.

Apparently, there’s a mandatory period of vacations in F1 and unfortunately, it doesn’t match your own. So, Carlos is away with friends and family, in boats and islands in the Mediterranean, and you’re torn between Roma, Venice and Milan, assisting in campaign photoshoots.

Your days are long, exhausting and you’re tired and wishing you could be suntanning somewhere in Greece, but you’re sitting on a train, pushing small talk with your colleagues so you won’t fall asleep and drool over yourself.

Until a notification pops up on your phone, and you drop everything you’re saying because there’s a small chance that is a photo from Carlos, or some text, or just a reminder of his existence. You mentally slap yourself. When did you get that dependent?

But it’s just an email. And it’s from your mom.

You frown.

She doesn’t usually use email. Nor is interested in art galleries in Madrid.

You read through the details and you notice something interesting. The invitation has been forwarded from none other than Carlos Sainz Sr. And it makes you laugh. You take a screenshot that you send to Carlos.

you: so, your dad's moonlighting as an art promoter now? did you fire him? hot wheels guy: seems like it. he said he was going to invite you hot wheels guy: and no, i didn’t fire him primarily because he doesn’t work for me you: well it actually does sound interesting hot wheels guy: so you’re coming? you: perhaps hot wheels guy: it’s a good chance for you to meet my sisters you: don’t you have like a dog for me to meet, too? hot wheels guy: two, piñon and oil hot wheels guy: oli is a really jealous girl. i doubt she will like you you: looking forward to meet them. and your sisters too, of course hot wheels guy: and about me? you: i already met you twice. don’t need another introdution

One week later, you’re in Madrid. Sainz Sr. arrives home while you’re talking with Reyes in the kitchen, while she cooks gazpacho for lunch. Oli is in your lap, licking your cheek as your fingers get lost in the small white waves of her fur.

“Hope you get here easily. Did you take an Uber?” Sainz says right after gracing you with a small hug and two polite kisses on the cheeks. Before paying, he also leaves a pat on Oli’s head.

“Carlos picked me up at the airport, actually.”

A pleased smile creeps across Sainz Sr.'s face, like a child in a candy shop. He glances over at Carlos, who's lounging on the couch, a few meters from you.

“She’s a guest.” He points out. You didn’t even realise he was listening to your conversation. You wonder if he was listening to what you and Reyes were saying before. “I wouldn’t have let her take an Uber.”

“You’re getting along well,” the dad points out. “Doesn’t surprise me.”

Between the art and the hushed corridors of the gallery, you often find yourselves alone. A stolen kiss in the quiet garden, where the fragrance of blooming flowers mingles with the electric charge between you. And then another, amidst the art, when the room empties and you’re left in the silence of creativity, where the only beauty that matters is reflected in the depths of his eyes.

He holds your hand and listens to your explanations about art and strokes and colour theory. And he calls you a nerd. Of course, he does. And you laugh and look at each other, and kiss again, not caring if there’s someone around.

When you come back home, his sisters and parents are still in the living room, so you sit with them, still wearing your cocktail dress and Carlos still looking gorgeous in his tuxedo. You picked up churros on your way home, so you’re just basking in the serenity and the domesticity of it all. Conversations flow effortlessly, laughter weaving through the air. You share stories, revealing snippets of your lives to his family, like they’re slowly becoming yours.

Ana. Blanca. Oli. Reyes. Carlos. And your Carlos, who looks at you with a warmth in his eyes that is capable of melting every cell of your body.

You can get used to this.

You only spend one night in Madrid. You sleep over at the Sainz’s—Reyes didn’t let you consider a hotel, so she prepared one of the guest rooms in advance. Surprisingly, it’s not the first time you and Carlos sleep under the same roof without having sex, but it’s the first time you do so in separate beds. And you feel restless. You lay in bed, your gaze fixed on the wall as if by sheer will, it will become transparent and grant you a view of him sleeping—the contours of his face softened in serenity, his lashes grazing his cheekbones.

According to Google, Autodromo Nazionale Monza is exactly 39 minutes away from your flat by car. Which isn’t a lot.

You’re not sure what to wear, or what’s exactly going to happen.

It’s Friday. It’s his birthday. He looks gorgeous in the photos that everyone is posting. You just need to get to the track, meet your parents and take your family to the garage. It’s as simple as that.

But you haven’t seen Carlos for more than a week, and the idea of finally seeing him is consuming you.

So you dump your worries in your wardrobe. You search for the few Ferrari pieces you have in your closet and you put out an outfit, and make-up and pretend you’re just going to an event you know nothing about. Because that’s almost the case.

Between the small crowd and the electric atmosphere and the midst of the symphony of roaring engines, you spot your parents and your brothers—their eyes wide with wonder. They’re donning Ferrari shirts and hats, each one with a different number on their clothes.

This blend of family and racing feels strangely comforting.

There’s a guy waiting for you by the entrance, with your passes. You follow him. He asks about the ride to the circuit, if it's your first time, and you can actually relieve some of the anticipation with that small talk. But you’re taking so long.

The corridor leading to the garages seems to stretch endlessly, each step an eternity.

"He's in the garage, preparing for the session. You'll have to be quick," the man informs you, but his words are mere background noise. All that matters is Carlos, and he's waiting. That's all you need.

Stepping into the garage, the noise amplifies. It's a chaotic dance of technicians and engineers, each absorbed in their tasks. You scan the frenetic scene, searching for him, but his absence is louder than the noise.

“Carlos must be arriving. Boys,” he drops to your brothers. “Want to see the car up close?”

Of course, they say yes, and they follow the man. Your dad tags along and your mother? Well, she’s apparently very interested in the sport, as well.

The first Sainz you see is Carlos’ cousin, to whom you’ve been not introduced yet, but who quickly recognizes you. You introduce yourself, and he chuckles and you say you’re “Carlos’ friend”. And then Sainz Sr. appears, with Carlos right beside him, talking to a tall skinny guy.

And God. He’s a vision in that damned racing suit.

Time seems to slow as he approaches, and when he turns to you, his eyes light up with a radiant smile. The world fades away.

“Happy birthday,” is all that occurs to you.

And a “thank you for being here,” is all that he can say before being dragged away to the screens.

This time it isn’t Reyes or Sainz Sr., but Carlos who invites your family for dinner. It's an offer you simply can't refuse, and even though your brothers are practically nodding off from fatigue, the moment they step inside the Hotel de la Ville, and notice where they are, exhaustion seems to magically dissipate.

The entire day was amazing, but you’ve barely had a chance to be near Carlos. So, as he finally takes his seat across from you, the desire to kiss him simmers just beneath your skin, burning you whole. He's clad in his signature red shirt, his unruly hair falling playfully over his forehead. And he’s wearing white jeans, which makes the colour of his tanned skin intensify.

Caught in the act of admiring him, you see him move his eyebrows. You roll your eyes and swiftly adjust your position in the chair, refocusing on your dads’ intense discussion about the latest football market moves.

“Piccina,” your mother chimes in. “You never told me about the Madrid trip. The gallery. Was it nice?”

You glance at your mother and then at the whole table. Carlos has that playful twinkle in his eyes, clearly anticipating to hear you stutter as you try to talk about the exhibition. Well, you did pay attention to the art, of course, but what remains in your mind is the way Carlos’ eyes always managed to drift to you, no matter which room you were in.

“It was beautiful, Mom,” you reply, offering her a warm smile. “I’ve already told Carlos how grateful I am for the invite.” At the head of the table, Sainz Sr. smiles at you, with a simple yet approving nod. “The other Carlos tagged along with me. He got to learn a lot about art. Right, junior?”

Carlos leans to you, propping his elbows on the table, a trace of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"I have to admit, you managed to make even the dullest of rooms seem interesting."

Thankfully, Sainz Sr.'s hearty laughter momentarily steals everyone's attention, giving you a chance to regain your composure. Your cheeks are warm, and from the feeling of them, you know they’re red. You managed to make even the dullest of rooms seem interesting. And he smiles, because he knows you badly you’re falling.

"Well, that's impressive,” your dad chimes.

And you're not sure if he's complimenting Carlos's smooth line or your ability to be a guide. So you ignore him and try to play it cool.

“So,” your mom continues, her hand resting on your arm, her curiosity fully piqued. "You two spent a good time together in Madrid?"

You share a subtle glance with Carlos before nodding. "Yes, we did. It was a great exhibition."

A brief hush falls over the table and you can’t help but feel like you’re under a microscope and everyone can see through you. Carlos’ gaze, steady and unwavering, is locked onto you, and you feel yourself softening, captured in his attention.

“Well,” Sainz Sr., who's been quietly observing, interjects with a warm smile. "It seems like you two have been getting along quite well."

Carlos chuckles and looks down, his fingers lightly tapping the rim of his glass. You both exchange a quick look, a silent understanding passing between you.

It’s time.

"Actually," you start, "we've been getting along really, really well."

Reyes leans in. "Oh? Do tell."

“We’ve been…” You hesitate, glancing at Carlos for support.

He meets your gaze. “Dating,” he completes your sentence with a confident smile. “We’ve been dating for a while now. Six, seven-ish months?”

Sainz Sr.’s eyes light up, and then he furrows his brows, clearly processing the information. You can’t help but chuckle as you watch the gears turning in his mind.

“That’s before—way before I… introduced you.”

“In my defence,” you chime in. “I did try to tell you we’ve already met before. Blame your son. He’s the one who decided to play with you for so long.”

“Well, this is… wonderful news.” Sainz Sr. beams. You steak a glance at Carlos, knowing he’s definitely going to tease you about how genuinely pleased you looked after revealing the truth. “So, seven months, eh? Okay. When’s the wedding? And when do I get Carlos the 3rd?”

I had so much fun writing this one!!! I used every little break at work to write this. It's a bit different than what I usually write, so all feedback is appreciated. Thank you for the request! 🫶

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soft-vainilla

1 year ago

men who lean down towards you to listen about what you have to say because of the height difference, but also does it because he loves seeing you get flustered by such a simple gesture.

yes, i am projecting rn .

2K notes View Post

soft-vainilla

3 years ago

like or reblog

13K notes View Post

soft-vainilla

1 year ago

I joined the COD fandom a week ago and with my height of 158 cm I felt like this.

Literally us.

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soft-vainilla

2 years ago

So Good For Me.

Summary: Bucky has only one thing on his mind to tonight and that's to make you his. And he hopes you'll never want to let him go.

Pairing: Alpha Bucky x Omega Reader

Work Count: 2.5K

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, consenual biting, mutual marking, smut, creampie, rough sex, minors DNI, overstimulation (if you squint). Soft Bucky turned Dom Bucky, size kink, mentions of belly bulge

A/N: Unbeta'd. Do not copy, translate, repost or rewrite my work, even if you credit me. I do not give my permission for my works to be copied or shared on other sites. Likes, reblogs and comments are cherished.

The reddish-yellow flame comes to life around the wick, swaying and flickering, the soft glow reflecting in his sapphire eyes. Backing away with a pleased hum, he looks over the mantle, adjusting the last of the candles, hints of white tea and vanilla drifting across him in hazy waves.

They remind him of your unique scent as he inhales the air, so sweet, delicate, and fresh. After tonight, he’ll make sure he carries your scent on him wherever he is. Its a gnawing feeling, unfamiliar to him. Wanting to let the world know that you belong to him and he belongs to you.

He's never felt like this with other omegas.

But they've never been you.

Placing the silver lighter on the nightstand, he glances around the room. Anything he deemed too rough, too Alpha was tossed out and replaced with things he hopes you’ll like. Fresh new sheets under the thick duvet, which is now the softest thing he owns. He bought a few all in your favorite colors. His favorite shirts folded neatly along the edge of the bed. He spent a long time making sure he heavily drenched them in his scent.

If you choose even one for your nest-Bucky breaks into a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

Bucky knows he shouldn’t feel as anxious as he does, but he can’t help it. The same way he can’t help, the way his heart thuds a little harder in his chest whenever he thinks about you. Here. In his room.

He can’t help the way his stomach twists just a little when he imagines you on his bed, marking his things with your scent, touching his sheets, clothes. Touching him. Letting him touch you. Becoming part of his life, his world.

He could easily claim you, use his Alpha status, commands, and size to dominate you into being his. But here’s the thing. He wants you to be his, but he needs you to want it as much as he does.

He’s taken his time with you, knowing that you deserve to be wooed properly. Wanting to care for you, cherish you the way you deserve. His Alpha nature wanting to make you happy. Dates to the museums, botanic gardens, movies, any place you like, dinners at fine restaurants, and little hole in the wall diners where you spend the entire time squished against his side in a booth too tiny for his large body, arms, and hands tangled as you eat, laugh and talk.

Bucky wants you to have all the best things, everything he has is yours, even if you don’t know it yet.

His new favorite hobby is finding presents for you, little treasures, each carrying his scent, of course. Personalized gifts sent to your house and work, most for no reason other than they reminded him of you.

Most of them hand-delivered because he can’t get enough of how flustered you get when he gives you something, you have no idea how much he adores your small pleased chirp that slips out when he leans in, asking if you like it little one. It makes his heart sing, knowing how much he affects you.

His Alpha pride blooming the more you fall for him.

Bucky bounds down the steps when he senses your arrival. Opening the door before you have a chance to knock, he holds back a chuckle when you startle, grabbing your overnight bag before it slips from your hand. “Hi, little one,” he warmly greets, stepping back to let you inside.

You smile shyly in response, your curious eyes darting around the hallway. Anticipation crackling in the air. While it’s not the first time you’ve been in his house, it’s the first time you’ll go further than the living room. You answer his questions about your day and the ride over here as he guides you up the stairs, his large hand splayed across the small of your back.

Bucky hovers behind you, waiting patiently as you stare into his bedroom. After tonight you’ll belong to Bucky Barnes. You swallow down the whimper that wants to escape your throat, your pussy aching at the thought of finally being his, your slick coating your panties.

HIs shuddery breath lets you know he can smell how aroused you are. Glancing over your shoulder, his heady lust-filled gaze makes you bite your lip. His eyes drop to your bottom lip, caught between your teeth, a low growl rising from his chest. The deep sound making your stomach tense in anticipation.

You step inside his bedroom, awash in the soft glow of candlelight, your knees almost buckling when his scent overwhelms you. Stronger than you’ve ever experienced. Fresh rain and plums, hints of evergreen laced throughout. All uniquely him.

Walking around the California king bed, you place your bag by his shirts. “I thought you could have a nest here.” His unspoken with me resonates in the quiet air.

You smile, imagining a large nest surrounding you and Bucky as you touch the soft fabric of his Henley with your fingertips. Your hand stills when you hear his breath hitch, your eyes flicker up to his large body. His hands fisted at his sides as he cranes his head back. You stare at his pulse beating in his neck, the omega in you preening when you take in how badly he wants you.

No one has wanted you the way he has. It’s intoxicating and exhilarating.

You pad over to him, placing your hands on his warm broad chest. Exposing your throat in submission. “Make me yours.”

He's waited so long to hear those words, his control begins to fray, taking every ounce of his being to keep from bending you over the side of the bed and claiming your body.

Still, he promised himself to take his time with you

Bucky grazes his teeth along the curve of your neck, back and forth until you whine, twisting your hands in the fabric of his shirt. “Please, Bucky.”

He hums into your skin, his breath washing over you. He bites down gently, too gently. You want to feel his teeth sink into you, claiming you so bad you’re trembling with need. “Please, please Bucky.”

God, he won’t stop teasing you. His hands shifting over your hips, pressing your belly into his large, hard cock. Warm and throbbing. Your slick cunt drenched and aching. Another plea ignored while you slide your hands into his soft hair and push him down with a whimper. He chuckles, nipping your skin so lightly you want to scream.

“Buc-” your voice cracks when he groans into your neck, his tongue laving the bruises he creating on your skin.

He’s so big and warm. Smells so good. You’ve never wanted anything, anyone more. Every instinct, every part of you crying for him to take you. To make you his girl, his omega, you want him to be your-

“Alpha.”

Bucky stills in your arms, his grip tightening around you as he grows impossibly harder. He's waited so long to hear that word as well, sweeter than he dreamed.

“Alpha, please.” Breathy and desperate in his ear.

Bucky closes his eyes, his hands sweeping up your back. Your voice is addictive, and he’s going to do everything in his power to keep his name on your lips. You say it again, awakening his dormant feral nature.

His teeth sink down, a burst of pain and pleasure shocking you to your very core and you go limp.

Bucky cradles your body, walking you back to the bed, biting harder into your soft skin until you shiver, crying out his name. Bonding you to him, a connection, so deep and primal that he can’t let go. He feels you, the urge to claim you, take you overwhelming his senses.

Bucky releases you, his dazed eyes darkening as he looks at his mark on your pretty skin. “Mine. Need you right now.” He says, brokenly, frantic and demanding.

“Yours. Love you.” You gasp into his chest, pulling at his shirt, needing to feel his skin on you. He licks the bite and your eyes roll back. Another desperate gasp pulled from your lips. “Alpha.”

“Love you, little one. My pretty little omega” He decorates your skin with soft, passionate kisses along your neck, up across your jaw in between ripping your clothes off, your greedy hands pulling and tugging at his belt as he yanks his t-shirt over his head, the pile of shirts and your bag tumbling to the carpet.

A flurry of torn fabric fluttering to the floor until you’re naked before him. Your eyes roaming down his large muscular body until you reach his cock swaying in the air, the swollen tip leaking.

He’s so big, you don’t know how he’s going to fit.

“Don’t worry, little one, your pussy is made for me.” He arrogantly smirks, covering you with his large warm body, his smooth chest brushing over your sensitive nipples. “I’ll fit-” He groans, slotting a thigh between your legs, “-in your tight little pussy.” He pushes his thigh over your mound, swallowing your needy moan when he glides over your clit.

Bucky swears he’s going to take his time later, bury his head between your thighs until you beg him to stop, tear you apart piece by piece until you’re a trembling fucked out mess but right now he has to be inside you, needing your warmth around him.

His soft lips drape over yours, deepening the kiss as he moves over you, mumbling your name when you reach between your bodies, grabbing his thick cock in your hands, guiding him to your pulsating core. You grab his firm back, keening into his mouth when you feel his swollen head breach your core, his thrust slow and deliberate, his veiny ridges stretching your silken walls.

His groan rings in your ears. “Goddamn, you’re tight, so fucking tight, fit around me so good, you know that, don’t you? You know how good you feel.” He praises, continuing to fill you until his pelvis is flush against yours. “So fucking perfect doll.”

You dig your sharp nails into his back with a muffled cry. So good, so good you think, squeezing your eyes shut as he moves deeper in you, god he’s so good.

“We haven’t even started yet,” he chuckles, swiping his lips over your swollen mouth, “breathe pretty girl.” Another chuckle rumbles over your neck when you arch off the bed as he slides out of you, “Gonna have fun ruining your pussy, fuck, this pussy is going to be mine, isn’t it?” His next deep stroke making you wail.

It is, it, you were his the moment he laid eyes on you.

His words punctuated by another harsh thrust that you feel in your stomach. You try to answer but can only gasp when he lifts your hips, making you take every inch of him.

Bucky moves deeper inside your hot, wet pussy until he can see your belly bulge, his masculine ego enlarging with each sob and moan he drags out of you. He can feel how close you are, the waves of bliss drowning you until you tense beneath him, his pace quickening as he pushes you closer to your high. “Cum for me, be a good girl, and cum for me.”

Your body obeys his hotly whispered command, your orgasm crashing into you. Chanting his name, you rake your nails down his back, grabbing his ass, crying out, “Oh god, Bucky, oh, Buc-,” you sob out, your head lolling back, the candlelight shining over his mark.

His hips slow to a steady pace, never ceasing as he rolls you on top of him. Pleasure sparking through your body with each powerful stroke.

Placing your hands beside his head, you gaze down at him, wheezed gasp slipping through your lips. Bucky offers you his neck, his position almost submissive if not for the smirk in his eyes. And the way his massive hands firmly roll your hips over his cock. “Go on, pretty girl.”

Tears shimmer in your widening eyes, you swallow thickly. Oh. Oh, Bucky. You place your mouth on his broad shoulder, feeling his gland. You’ve never heard of an alpha willing to wear his omega’s mark, to have Bucky offering you his throat is indescribable. To be loved the way he loves you, god you don’t know how you’re going to survive him.

You bite down, feeling the bond open even wider. You feel him, hear him. He loves you so much.

His guttural groans of pleasure make you clench down as he slides out of you. When you release him, looking in wonder at the bite on his broad shoulder, he slides his hands over your hips, murmuring good girl. The room spins as he rolls you back over. Bucky thrusts into you, the headboard slamming against the wall so hard it cracks.

He craves you.

His cock stretching you, going so deep inside you. More tears form as pleasure spreads across your entire body, his solid, heavy chest driving you into the soft duvet.

Sweet girl.

“You feel me right here, don’t you?” He presses his hand on your belly, feeling his bulge with each deep thrust. “You’re going to feel me all weekend.” He promises, wild eyes meeting your dazed ones.

Perfect, so fucking perfect.

He places your leg over his arm and grabs the headboard. “Yeah, you are.” He swears under his breath, watching your mouth fall open, a thin high moan emerging from your throat. He grins, knowing he’s found your sweet spot. “Fuck, I could live in your cunt, stay inside you all the fucking time. So goddamn good.”

Love you. Adore you. Worship you.

He laces his metal fingers between yours, pinning your hand over your head. Mine. Mine. Your cries of pleasure making him snap his hips into yours. Wet sloshing of your cunt intertwining with the nearly vulgar sounds of skin slapping. Mine. All mine. His deep moans in your ear as you pant, his name garbled on your tongue as you give yourself to him. “I’m yours, Bucky, please, please I’m so close-” you slur, unable to finish your thought when he changes his pace, your breath rasping out.

“You wanna cum for me don’t you little one, you’re gonna be good for me, go on and give it to me.” He whispers over your mouth, his forehead resting on yours as he watches you fall apart.

Your walls spasm over his cock, making his pace fraught and erratic, he lets go of the splintered headboard, finding your clit between your sweaty bodies, swollen and sensitive, his thumb swirling around your bud hard and fast until the coil snaps. Another orgasm rocking you, making you clench down on him.

“There you go, such a good girl, my pretty girl.” He coos, smiling as you thrash under him. “That’s it, knew you could take it.”

He grinds his hip down so hard you cum again, grunting when you clamp down, “shit you’re still milking my cock-” You tremble, not hearing him over the roar in your ears. “Gonna fill you up, wanna see me leak out of your pretty, greedy little cunt.” He groans, his words making your stomach flutter. You love when he loses control, his words rushing out of him as he pounds you into you, chasing his high, his eyes focused on your face.

You nearly cum again when warmth blooms in your core, his hot spend coating your walls as he goes still, only his hips jerking slightly until he collapses on top of you.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, turning you on your side, his cock nestled within you.

“Amazing, Bucky.” You rasp out, snuggling into his sweat-slicked chest. Your tired giggles ending in a yawn.

“Me too.” Bucky kisses your forehead, pulling back with a smile. “Didn’t mean to wear you out like this.” His smug tone making you give him a look that says you don’t believe him, his shrug in return replying he knows. “Go to sleep, I got you.”

You drift off feeling protected and cherished in his arms, your unbreakable bond strengthening with each whispered affirmation of love, pulling you closer to him. Bucky’s deep voice drifts over you as he continues to praise you for being so perfect for him. He watches the candlelight dance over your sleeping face.

He scents your neck, inhaling you, a dizzying combination of the both of you wafting off your skin. Yeah, he's going to make sure you always smell like this. Reverently touching his mark, he murmurs, "good night sweet girl."

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