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ceilidho · 1 month

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take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (part 8)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

Now a nocturnal animal emerges into the daylight hours.

A week becomes two and your shoulders untense. It’s not something you notice at first because you’re used to an ever present strain between your shoulder blades and an ache in your jaw from grinding your teeth at night. Then a fortnight goes by without so much as a missive with your name on it floating across John’s desk or a stranger appearing in town after tracking you down, and you wonder if maybe the world really is big enough to hide in.

It sure feels that way at times. The woods beyond the bounds of John’s property stretch out farther than the eye can see and even walking it feels like you could disappear into another realm. Old spruces shoot up high into the clouds, and deeper into the woods, huge rock formations grow more and more prominent as you near the mountains. John takes you through the woods on horseback, following the rough trails carved into the dirt by a century of wagons and carts using the same path. The footprints of a different time.

Up in the trees, birds warble and chirp, talking to one another in songs that you’ve never heard before. A woodpecker drills into the side of a tree. Pinecones snap out of the upper branches and drop to the forest floor.

There is only a single trail and it’s easy to lose. You grow a bit nervous when John takes you off the trail and deeper into the woods, but he does so with the confidence of a man that knows these woods like the back of his hand. You go quiet when he stops Buttercup to let a herd of deer wander by, the stragglers hurrying to catch up with the group, throwing the two of you nervous glances before they disappear into the thicket.

“Should we be out this far?” you ask in a whisper, reluctant to disturb the silence. Though the woods are full of animals that bleat, chirp, chatter, and hoot, the sound of your own voice feels preternaturally loud and shrill.

“We won’t get lost, darlin’. I know my way around,” John reassures you, curling an arm around your waist to hold you to him. These days, you hardly worry about tumbling off the horse. Not with him at your back anyway.

“That wasn’t really my worry,” you mumble, trailing off.

“Then what’re you getting all worked up about?”

“Aren’t there wolves out here? Or bears?”

He snorts, the sound making you jolt. You don’t topple over because he has such a firm hold around your waist. “They don’t usually come this close to town. They’re more scared of you than you are of them.”

“That sounds like something mothers tell their children to stop them crying,” you say flatly. You draw your legs up automatically when John directs Buttercup through a shallow basin, a shortcut back home. It makes you anxious for a moment, but the water barely goes up to her ankles, so you relax when you realize that you’re in no danger of being swept away by the current.

“That doesn’t mean a bear or wolf can’t wander by, but it’s rare.”

“And there it is.”

You can feel the heat of his glower on the back of your head. “We could spend the night out here if you want to see for yourself.”

At that, you shut your mouth. Even if he were to prove his point, you have no interest in camping out in the woods now that you’ve become accustomed to the luxury of a soft bed. Granted that you’re forced to share that same bed, still you’ve never slept half as well as you do these days. You wake up rested after nine hours of blissful shut eye, a sleep so deep that your dreams only come in half-remembered flashes. Often they involve the man you wake up wrapped around, and for that you’re grateful that they remain submerged.

A new desire has started to burrow its way into the back of your mind in recent days. It starts out as a thought so brief that you hardly notice it before it skitters away.

And then it lingers.

You wake up in the middle of the night hot, sweat dripping down the nape of your neck and a fire burning in your loins, a red-hot coil wound around itself, fit to burst. Pulsating. At some point throughout the night, you must have thrown a leg around John’s waist because it rests there now, your hand planted in the middle of his chest and your sex all but rubbing up against his thigh. Under your hand, you can feel his heart pump strong and steady.

You hold very, very still, waiting for him to wake. But John sleeps on, his palm loose where it rests along the curve of your hip, fingers curling into the flesh of your backside.

You can hardly look at him these days without shaking. You’ve come to fixate on the sway of his hips when he walks and the flecks of silver in his beard. The grooves in his weathered hands. The way your head fits in the palm of his hand when he cradles it to his chest. The fond glimmer in his eyes that shines the brightest when he puts his hat on your head and it slips past your eyes, too big for your head.

When you tip it up in order to see, the folds around his eyes become more pronounced with the force of his smile.

“There you are, bug,” he says, taking the hat off your head to set it back on his and reeling you in for a kiss.

Bug, love, honey, darling. The constant flux of endearments makes your head spin. John never calls you by the name on your marriage license. It’s like that name means nothing to him, cast away at the first opportunity and replaced by an endless stream of pet names.

He hasn’t touched your sex since making you come on the porch swing the week before. He pulls you into a chaste embrace at night, the only evidence of his own desire being the stiff shaft nestled against the small of your back in the early morning hours, which he takes care of on his own in the bathroom downstairs after pressing a kiss to your cheek. You feel robbed of something, though you don’t know quite what.

You’re tempted to offer your help, but you don’t know exactly what that would entail. Inexperience and fear of rejection hold you back, stay your tongue. In the two weeks you’ve been married, he hasn’t once tried to pin you down and rut between your thighs like you expected and dreaded that very first night.

Now that that time has passed, you don’t know how to initiate that moment again.

John promises to teach you how to ride a horse. You can’t see a reason to protest, much to your chagrin. Despite your apprehensions, even you can’t deny that it would be a helpful skill. A train only goes one way after all, confined to a single track. A horse has no such laws to obey.

The thought stays nestled at the back of your mind as the days continue on.

You flounder around in the kitchen on the day that John invites his deputies over for supper. You’ve met the big one—Simon—now a small handful of times, each encounter marked by a silence that sucks the air out of the room when he turns his gaze on you and holds it. Perhaps you’ve simply ascribed too much importance to his person, given that every time you’ve seen him, your life has changed irrevocably. His presence is always followed by revelation it seems. The archangel of vicissitude. A harbinger of uncertain times.

The other two are new. John introduces you to them when you bring out the cutlery and crockery to set the table, and you nearly go cross-eyed when they reach across the table at the same time to offer their hands. You go to meet them halfway, but flinch when John brings his hand down on the table with enough force to make the silverware jump.

“Sorry, darlin’,” he apologizes to you first before turning his glare on the other two. “That ain’t proper, boys. You wait for the lady to offer her hand first—you don’t treat a woman like she’s a mutt you’re teaching to shake.”

“Ah, sorry, hen,” the one on the left says, his voice a thick Scottish brogue like a purr. He’s possibly the handsomest man you’ve ever met, but there’s something dangerous and wild in his eyes. When he smiles, it curls up in a roguish sort of way that makes you falter, like he’s in on a joke that you aren’t. “Dinnae mean to offend. No’ often we get ta meet such a pretty lady.”

“Sorry—” the one on the right apologizes in a voice far more earnest than his counterpart’s. “And sorry for him. We think he was raised by wolves.”

“What’s yer excuse then?” the Scot sneers, knocking his knee into the other man’s under the table. “Dinnae see ye waitin’ for her fuckin’ hand like a gentleman—apologies, hen.”

“Christ,” John sighs, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling.

Simon stays silent at the other end of the table, but the whole table jumps when he aims a kick at the Scott’s leg. He hisses and blurts out a word in a language you’ve never heard before, the word unmistakably vitriolic. He clutches at his shin and shoots a nasty look at Simon, though he doesn’t make a move to retaliate.

“Name’s Kyle. Kyle Garrick,” the other introduces himself, and you finally reach across the table to offer your hand. His hand is warm against yours when he takes it, dark skin burnished in the candlelight. There’s something inviting about him; something about his eyes, so dark that you almost fall into them. Thick lips curl up into a smile. “And this here is Soap.”

You frown. “Soap?”

The man in question runs a hand down his front, emphasizing the cut of his shirt and the way it clings to the muscle of his chest. “‘Cause of how well I clean up.”

Simon barks out a laugh at that. The sound comes so sudden and sharp that it startles you. “You got it ‘cause your mum had to wash out your mouth with soap.”

It’s the most you’ve ever heard out of him and you can only stare wide-eyed at the lot of them as they dissolve into bickering and squabbling after that. It’s almost a relief to head back into the kitchen to finish cooking.

Dinner is a similar messy affair, punctuated by the sound of Soap practically gnawing the meat off the bone. He only apologizes when John barks at him for making a mess, more food on the floor around him than on his plate, but his table manners don’t last very long. John doesn’t seem so much embarrassed on their behalf as annoyed, but it’s an annoyance that comes with an aftertaste of warmth. You can tell without asking that they’ve known each other for years.

There’s room enough in you for food and envy. Back home you had friends. Never close friends, but acquaintances at least. Maids you could recognize by face. Small talk while ascending single-file up the servants’ staircase. Perhaps little more than that. You’d never been particularly close to any of them, but how could you? You worked from morning ‘till night, up and down the stairs, moving in the shadows. Never making too much noise lest your employers take notice of you.

Like he did.

You shake it off. That’s no matter now. You’re hundreds of miles away and living under a new name. A married woman, to the county sheriff no less. It only sometimes hurts your heart to think of how lonely you’d been.

When they leave, you stand at the window and watch as they disappear into the black of the night, Simon at the front of the pack, his torchlight leading the way. The sound of horse hooves beating against the dirt recedes the farther they get.

His hands warm your shoulders. You don’t know how long he’s been there, standing behind you while you stared out the window after the boys. All you know is that his hands are warm, and the kiss he presses to the back of your head makes you arch back into him, unconsciously gravitating closer to him. Needing to be near.

In bed, you curl your fingers against his chest. On a rough exhale, you wake. You dream still of something terrible that happens somewhere else, in another city, in an old life. His heartbeat lulls you back to sleep.

John takes you to the local seamstress to have you fitted for a pair of pants and suddenly you’re out of excuses. They fit you comfortably, like a second skin, and you find yourself pulling at the legs at your final fitting as if to stretch out the material. The seamstress nearly jabs you with a pin and glares up at you until you stop fidgeting.

You come to terms with it when he brings you into the stables and makes you fetch the saddle from where it rests on its stand. It’s heavier than you expected. You stumble back over to where John now has Buttercup standing in the middle of the stable, holding her by the lead fixed to her bridle.

“I don’t know if—” you start, trepidation climbing up your chest until it grips you by the throat. For as many times as you’ve ridden her, you’ve never done it alone.

John fixes her lead to a post and walks over to you, taking the saddle from your hands and letting it drop to the ground. He cups your face in both hands to tilt your head up. “Hey, honey. We’re not doing much of anything today, alright? Just a walk around the paddock so you get used to sitting on Buttercup on your own. I’m not gonna smack her ass and send you down the trail at full tilt..”

That gets a laugh out of you. “You promise?”

He smiles. “Promise, darlin’.”

And he keeps it. The only thing you do that day is learn how to tack a horse and how to properly mount and dismount her. The latter part of the lesson is devoted to you trying to find your balance while John leads the two of you around the pen at a leisurely pace. He calms you down when he sees you grow too stiff, stopping to coo and rub your thigh until you gradually relax. It’s heartwarming until Buttercup begins to tense up too for a reason unbeknownst to you and you watch in righteous fury as John calms her down the same way.

John gets you a hat to keep the sun from beating down on you, but there’s little he can do about the soreness between your thighs and the stiffness in your legs the next day. All you can do is hiss and moan in pain, hobbling around the house until he forces you down into a chair and hikes up your dress in order to apply an arnica salve to your inner thighs.

It’s a relief and an affront at the same time. The duality of man. The salve soothes much of the ache, but you twitch nervously around John for the rest of the day, the memory of him pinning you to the chair and forcibly spreading your thighs haunting you. The lingering ache in your core is just the salt in the wound.

It rains another day. A light drizzle while the sun is still out.

Every day you sit and you think, will it be today? And then the wash basins are emptied out in the field, the horses are taken out to the paddock, you pin the laundry up on the line to dry, and John presses a farewell kiss to your forehead when he leaves you with Kate and nothing happens. Every inch of you waits for more, anticipates more. Throbs when he leaves you wanting, only a chaste kiss and a squeeze around your waist before he’s off.

You can feel it coming to a head. An itch you can’t shake.

That day comes with another ache you can’t shake.

“Please,” you beg, clasping your hands in front of you. “One day of rest. That’s all I’m asking. I can’t do this anymore, John.”

John snaps the lead in his hands. “Let’s get a move on. We’re burning daylight.”

You hang your head low on the march over to the stables, John taking up the rear like he expects you to bolt. An executioner’s walk. The thought of escape has never seemed further away—not even because of its feasibility, but because all you want to do is lie down and rest.

“You can quit your moping,” he says as you tack up Buttercup, a pout on your lips. “Got something special for you today.”

That makes you perk up, regardless of the fact that he doesn’t specify what that is. Anticipation mounts in you when he helps you up onto Buttercup and then climbs up behind you himself. He steers her away from the paddock and towards the trail leading into the woods, the sun at its zenith now, illuminating everything as far as the eye can see.

You’ve ridden this trail before. A week ago, with John at your back as he is now. Through the fields and over the hills until the trees start to number in the tens and then the hundreds, no clear delineation between plain and forest. Simply there and then everywhere.

By now, after hours of sun beating down on the path, the trail is mostly dry, yesterday’s rain long since having sunk into the earth. You think it’d still be a tough hike on foot, but on horseback you cover acres of land at a brisk pace, Buttercup hardly breaking a sweat. You cross paths with a small group traveling by horse and wagon, but John breaks off from the path not too long after that, steering Buttercup deeper into the wilderness, where the only gullies are the ones carved out by years and years of rainfall.

You only see it when the land begins to dip and you’re forced to hold onto the horn and tighten your thighs around the fenders to keep steady. At the bottom of a hill, a small stream opens up into a larger river, narrowing out at the other end where the land rises again and the water can only trickle over the pebbly riverbed. On the other side, a rocky outcropping cuts the stream off from view.

“Is this where you used to come to bathe?” you ask, recalling an earlier conversation.

John sighs. “Thought I’d take you for a swim as a treat, but if you’d rather just tease me—”

“Well now, let’s not be hasty,” you say, already trying to dismount on your own, eyes glued on the stream glimmering in the sunlight. John chuckles, keeping you pressed to him until he guides Buttercup under a tree for shade and dismounts first, helping you down after him.

All you want to do is wade in the stream up to your ankles, so that’s what you do. Boots kicked off, Buttercup relaxing in the shade of a tree, John standing by the water’s edge with his hands on his hips and watching you tiptoe over the smooth rocks below. You roll up your pant legs, but eventually you feel the ends grow damp as you venture farther out. At its deepest, you would probably sink up to your waist.

“Don’t you want to swim?” John asks from somewhere behind you.

You splash around a bit, kicking your feet through the water. “Hard to do that with clothes—”

When you turn back around to face him, your eyes dart down momentarily at the sight of skin before you squeak and whirl back around, sending up an arc of water. Twice now you’ve seen him naked.

“You’ve no clothes on,” you state, bluntly enough that it almost sounds stupid.

You hear the water splash and ripple when he takes his first step in. “Right—you better think about doing the same if you don’t want to ride home soaking wet.”

“I was perfectly fine just getting my feet wet,” you say indignantly.

“We came out here to swim, not get your feet wet,” John laughs. You stiffen when his hand comes down on your shoulder, conscious of the fact that your husband is standing right behind you, entirely divested of his clothes. “So best get to steppin’.”

“You can’t make me.”

“Oh, honey,” he says pityingly. “Yes, I can.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as you make your way back to shore, careful not to allow yourself a glimpse of him. Your boots are stacked beneath the shade of another tree, John’s clothes folded neatly beside them. You strip slowly, attentive to the world around you; though unlikely, it’s not impossible that someone might wander by. Your only consolation is that John is still within sight, though you keep your back to him because in recent days, you’ve developed a hunger for him that even now makes your stomach hurt.

Though the air is warm, you shiver. When you turn around with your arms crossed over your breasts to hide them from sight, you find John wading in the river up to his waist. You’ve seen him like this once before, the hearty body of a man in his prime. Sturdy and strong. The hair on his chest is darker than that on his head, wet too from the dip he must have taken when your back was turned. His hair is slicked back too, a wet hand combing it back.

“Come on, darlin’,” he calls, beckoning you forward with his hand.

The water is a cold shock when you step in past your ankles. Ice cold tendrils wrap up your legs, sucking the warmth from you.

You suck in a soft breath when he pulls you into his arms and heaves you up, big hands gripping under your thighs. Your breasts press against the wet skin of his chest, nipples already pebbled. The river is deeper than you assumed; John pulls you deeper in until it pools around your waist and then your chest. Cold enough that you shiver until John dips his head down and the kiss he presses to your lips melts you from the inside out.

You can’t escape the intimacy of water-slick skin. When John drags you up his chest, your nipples brush over his and the shudder that passes through you is violent, toe-curling. You know that he can feel the heat of your core even underwater. With your legs wound around his waist, every inch of you is plastered to his front. Even your fingers play with the ends of his hair, arms draped over his shoulders. You can’t look away.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, breath hot on your face. “Eyes on me.”

As if you could look anywhere else.

He reaches down under the water to readjust himself and you gasp when his shaft is suddenly right there, trapped between his belly and your heat. It’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to coitus, his glans nestled between your folds. You’d only have to shift slightly for him to slip right in. The thought makes your breath quicken.

He doesn’t make a move to take you though, even knowing that he could. How easy it would be. How it’s due to him. Your husband that’s waited a fortnight to take you as his own. John kisses you until each slick pass of his lips grows sloppier, clumsier—his lips barely parting from yours before they’re on you again, rendering you a creature of base needs.

But his hands don’t shift from your backside where he holds you in place. His fingers dig into the flesh hard enough to bruise, but they don’t move to part your folds to make room for his manhood. You expect him to—practically yearn for it and squeeze him around the neck all the harder when he subverts your expectations, doing no more than letting you grind your heat against the base of his shaft.

“John—John, please,” you beg, mindless for what. You don’t know what you’re asking for.

“What d’ya need, darlin’?” he asks into your mouth, stealing your answer with another kiss.

You fall under the swell of another wave. When the root of his cock glides over your clit, your core clenches on nothing, a sob half-bitten off in your mouth, ripped from your chest.

It doesn’t matter how close to him you get—he gives you nothing. The heat could very well burn you from the inside out. Cold water caresses your skin as it flows past, but the center of you runs so hot that you hardly notice it.

When he hikes you higher up against his chest, you clench your fingers in his hair, whining when he takes your nipple into his mouth. Your gasp comes out sharp and hurt when the coarse bristles of his beard rub rough against your breast. He sucks at your breast tender at first, gentle, eyes half-lidded like his mind has gone somewhere else, but there’s a glint in his eye that grows wild and dark, that turns him rough. You don’t know what to do except shake and let him use you how he wants.

Desperation nips at your heels, urging you up the length of him. If you had more nerve, you’d reach down and grasp him under the water, notch the head of his member against your sex and sink right down on him. You need him like you've never needed anything before. Every part of you aflame, searing hot under the sun at its highest point; right overhead, right on top of you.

His teeth sink delicately into your areola, tongue lapping over your nipple to soothe the hurt, and suddenly, you break.

“Please—” you gasp, wrenching his mouth away from your breast and whimpering when he resists at first, glaring up at you like he might bite. “Please, John—I can’t take it. I need you.”

His eyes darken, the pupil swallowing everything up. “Need me where, wife? Here?”

A hand dips between your thighs, pointer finger gliding over your sex, plump with blood. So tender that your mouth hangs open on a whine when he touches you.

“Y-yes,” you whimper, gaze swimming.

John’s breath comes out in a harsh, ragged pant. Completely undone in a way you’ve never seen before. “Get out, darlin’. I’m taking you home. Gonna give you what you need.”

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #price/reader #john price/reader #price x reader #price x you #john price x reader #john price

1K notes · View notes

cupid-styles · 5 days

Note

bodyguardrry x stripper!y/n?

pink pony club

in which harry is a bodyguard at the club y/n dances at

word count: 2.8k

content warnings: spicy content, minor violence, a small unwanted touching scene, smut (thigh riding, spitting, dirty talk, breast play, one "sir" mention, minor slapping......I think that's it gkdfjgkjd)

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

Harry doesn’t care much about his job.

He’s not all that interested in working night shifts that start at 8:30 p.m. and don’t end until 4 a.m. He’s not tempted by the constant flow of alcohol, the endless lines of powder that decorate the bartop and booth tables, and the half — and sometimes fully — naked girls that make their money by twirling around oiled up stripper poles and sweet-talking businessmen.

His job as a bodyguard is simply a means to an end. A paycheck. A way to survive.

Unless Y/N is working.

The second she started at Pink Pony Club, it felt as if his world brightened up. She emitted an effervescent pink hue everywhere she went, bathing Harry in it with her bright smile and sweet eyes. He’s always kept a special eye on her — while he didn’t care for the logistics of his job, he took the safety of the dancers seriously, and Y/N was no exception. In fact, maybe she was the exception.

He was the only dancer he watched. She was the only one he spoke to. His pretty, shy, pink girl.

When she took one-on-one dances in the Red Room, he was the guard she asked to accompany her. He never minded. No, he dropped everything to be there with her, even if it meant standing there stoically, watching as she grinded on the lap of a man that would tip her too little.

If it were him, he would never take her perfect presence for granted.

He would sit back and let her take her time. Shower her in every compliment his brain could churn out. He’d comply with the strict no touching rule, but god, if his hands wouldn’t tremble at his sides. He’d have to sit on them to stop himself from doing something stupid.

Sometimes, it’s what he wished those grimy men would do. Like this piece of shit, who’s been shelling out hundred after hundred dollar bills to keep Y/N locked away in the Red Room all night. It’s been hours and the guy can barely keep his head up straight. From Harry’s spot in front of the door, he can tell Y/N’s tired and in need of a break. And when the song comes to a crawling end, he’s ready to step in and tell the guy to get lost, but he’s already digging in his pocket for his wallet. Harry grits his teeth as he watches Y/N’s shoulders fall.

“Another one,” the idiot mutters, stuffing three hundred dollars in the waistband of her panties. Y/N jerks away from his touch and the man stills, flashing her a confused expression. “What? I’ve paid you your entire yearly salary tonight and I can’t put some fuckin’ money in your panties?”

Harry’s fists ball up at his sides, already taking heavy strides towards them as Y/N’s mumbling out, “you’re not allowed to touch the girls.”

“Oh, give me a fuckin’ break,” he wails, sending a look of disbelief to Harry, as if he should agree with him. “This girl’s a cocktease!”

Harry snorts and Y/N shuffles off the man’s lap. He stands in front of her, creating a physical barrier between the two.

“You heard her, you’re not allowed to touch any of the girls. Doesn’t matter how much money you’ve paid.” Harry says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Are you gonna get lost or are we gonna have a problem?”

The guy rolls his eyes. “You’re telling me you’re always here watching over this one and you’ve never once copped a feel? She’s out with her fuckin’ ass and tits out and you—”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish whatever disgusting sentence was coming out of his mouth because Harry’s already pulling him up by the shirt collar. The guy yelps as Harry’s strong grip yanks him off the couch and he scoffs, resisting the urge to spit in his face.

“Disgusting piece of shit.” he mutters, throwing him up against the maroon velvet wall. “You know that? You think you can fucking talk about her like she’s some kind of object?”

“She’s a stripper!” he exclaims, raising his hands up in mock defense.

“I don’t fucking care,” Harry growls, “She could be an escort for all I care, but you don’t touch anyone without their fucking permission. Especially her. Do you fucking hear me?”

“Yeah, man, whatever! It’s all good, I promise!”

“Oh, it’s all good?” he mocks, keeping him pushed up against the wall with his hand up against his chest. His other arm cocks back and his hand forms a tight fist, his knuckles white as hot adrenaline courses through his veins. He’s ready to beat this guy until he’s unrecognizable — until he hears it.

A small, quiet whimper of his name.

Immediately, he turns around. Y/N stands behind him, looking small and helpless with glassy eyes. Again, she repeats his name. “Harry,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s not worth it, I don’t wanna lose my job. Just let him go.”

And just like that, he does.

He lowers his fist, his hand unfurls around the cheap fabric of his button-up, and he’s free to go, scrambling out of the Red Room before Harry has the chance to tell the other bodyguards to escort him out. But he doesn’t care. All he cares about is the teary eyed girl with trembling fingers.

“Baby,” he breathes, fear surging through his chest as he wraps a tender arm around her waist. He sits onto the crushed velvet bench and pulls her into his lap, keeping a soothing hand placed at the small of her waist. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

She quickly shakes her head, allowing the tears to flow a bit more freely now. “I-I’m okay. Just scary.”

“I know,” he mumbles, biting his lip. “Was it— did I scare you?”

“No, no. I know you were just… trying to protect me.” she says softly, blinking her eyes at him.

“I was, sweetheart. I promise. I would never do anything to hurt or scare you.”

She nods. “I know.”

“How much longer do you have left of your shift? I can take you home. You shouldn’t be working when you’re upset.”

Y/N glances down at the watch around Harry’s wrist, nibbling on her bottom lip as she thinks. It’s already 2, which means the club closes in less than three hours.

“Just another hour. I can make it,” she replies as she straightens her posture in his grasp. “I’m just… I don’t think I’m ready to go back out there yet.”

“That’s fine. We can stay here as long as you’d like.” And he’d certainly knock out anyone who threatened to give her shit for it.

They sit in silence for a bit and Harry keeps a protective arm looped around her waist the entire time, drawing soft circles into her exposed hip. He feels relief at knowing that she doesn’t express discomfort at being in his arms and frankly, if it were up to him, she’d never leave them.

Harry’s torn from his thoughts when she runs her fingers over the expanse of tattoos that cover his arms. Glancing down, he watches as her manicured nails slowly float from the anchor on his wrist all the way up to the ship on his bicep. He swallows, staying impossibly still as she analyzes the ink. Eventually, she lands on the cursive A on his shoulder.

“Girlfriend?” she asks, peering up at him. He shakes his head.

“Mum,” he murmurs, “Do you have any tattoos?”

Y/N nods. “One.”

Harry’s tongue peeks out to moisten his lips as he maintains heavy-lidded eye contact with her. He’s seen nearly every bit of her skin and prickles form in his stomach, thinking about where her hidden tattoo could be.

“What is it?”

Slowly, she shifts off of his lap to stand in front of him. Using deft fingertips to peel the waistband of her lacey lingerie down, she reveals a simple red rose inked into her skin, just above where her mound begins. Harry swallows harshly at the sight.

“Do you like it?”

Harry huffs out a laugh. “Gorgeous.” he mumbles.

“I was thinking about getting another one,” she breathes as she shimmies the fabric just a bit lower. She taps the small patch of skin across from the rose. “An H, maybe.”

“That would be a silly decision, sweetheart,” he says lowly, leaning back against the bench and spreading his legs a little wider. “You don’t want an initial for the guy who beats up idiot losers.”

“I do, though. I love knowing you’re there to protect me.” she replies. Briskly, she climbs back into his lap, this time straddling his waist and placing her knees on either side of him. As if on instinct, he wraps his arms around her to steady her, pressing one palm to the back of her thigh.

“I’ll always be there to protect you,” he mumbles, chest tightening as she leans closer. Her lips are centimeters away and it makes his breath catch in his throat. His throat bobs as he swallows, angling his head ever so slightly to minimize the small gap between them, and then he whispers: “Stop me if it’s too much.”

“It’s not,” she’s so close to him that her breath ghosts over his plush lips, “Kiss me. Please.”

That’s all he needs to seal their lips, her shaky hands finding purchase at the back of his neck. It feels so special to have her hands on him as their lips meld; slowly at first, and then she’s straightening her back to push her chest forward, desperate to be closer, closer, closer.

It feels like their only source of oxygen is coming from one another. Harry’s hands grip her ass firmly, squeezing the plump skin in his palms. He’s content with keeping things here at a steady PG-13 level until her wet mouth breaks away for just a moment, only long enough to murmur, “touch me, I need it.”

A groan oscillates from his throat as his hands travel down to her neck, her shoulders, her chest, and then finally her breasts. His hands find the covered peaks of her nipples and she inhales sharply, shuddering beneath his touch. He smirks as he settles on the right side of her chest, using his thumb to gently brush over her nipple. She straightens her spine and leans into the sensation as he slowly rubs it back and forth.

"Always gonna keep you safe. You know that?” Harry mumbles into her mouth, licking at the seam of her lips. Her eyes squeeze shut and her thighs threaten to close around his wide, spread legs. “Uh-huh,” she nearly whines. He swallows as he watches her, noticing her quick descent into desperation. He gives her nipple a soft squeeze before quickly pausing to unhook her bra and toss it to the floor. He resumes his teasing just a moment later, leaning forward and attaching his lips to the hard bud. A quiet, shaky mewl falls from her swollen lips. He parts with a pop but only to spit messily onto the peak. She gasps when he takes her nipple into his mouth again, hissing as he bites the skin. It’s not hard or long enough to elicit any real pain, just a sweet sizzle in her stomach that makes her tug at the curled ends of his hair. He chuckles softly at her reaction before licking over the bite and tucking the bud back between his lips. Once he’s gotten his fix, he removes his hand from her breast and moves it up to her mouth. "Open." he commands. As if under a spell, her bottom lip drops open and Harry pushes two of his fingers inside, pressing them down against her tongue. "Dirty little mouth, hm?" He murmurs. She nods submissively and he grins, "Suck." She closes her lips, encasing his long fingers in her mouth as she begins to slowly bob up and down, taking them further. His fingertips make contact with her throat, eliciting a short gag as the muscles contract slightly around them. Quickly, he removes them. "Did I hurt you?" She shakes her head and reaches up to wipe away some of the drool that had escaped her mouth. "No. I like it." "Are you lying, baby?" He asks, moving her hair over her shoulder, "This isn't fun for me if you're just doing what you think I want." "I'm not lying, I promise. I like it." Harry's lips curl into a smirk. "Tell me what else you like, then." As she opens her mouth, he shifts his thigh between her legs, the muscles flexing firmly against her core. She gasps, though Harry pretends like he hadn't done anything, instead nodding at her shortly; an encouragement to follow his directions. "I like gagging on your fingers." She whines as he begins to move his thigh back and forth, just slow enough to create some friction between their bodies. "Yeah? What else do you like?" "You," she whimpers, gently rocking her hips against his jean-clad thigh, "When you keep me safe.” "Ah, my pretty baby likes feeling protected?” She nods as she begins to quicken my movements. He stills her hips but before she has a chance to whine about it, he mumbles out a "budge up, baby" so he can slip her panties off her legs. She resists the urge to hiss at the contact, her stomach tightening at the feeling of his thigh muscle against her. For a moment, he inspects the sodden underwear, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “You made quite the mess in these, baby. What got you so turned on?” She swallows harshly, her chest shaky. “Y-you. Seeing you threaten that guy for me.” He smirks but decides to leave it at that, feeling the desperate warmth radiating from her core. "Go 'head," he mumbles, leaning back. "Let me see you use me." She feels her hole contract at his words, mentally cringing as he chuckles. He feels how needy she is and he absolutely loves it. Slowly, she starts to grind against his thigh, holding in pathetic whimpers at the solid surface making contact with her clit. Harry tsks when he notices her roll her lips into her mouth. She looks down as he moves his hand towards her lower half, momentarily excited that he’ll pet at her the way she’s craving. The dream is short lived when he parts her pussy lips instead to look at the wet mess between them. "Don't hide your sounds," he scolds, pressing the pad of his fingertip to her clit, rolling it in small circles. "They're too pretty.”

She nods, prepared to continue her movements when she gasps out in surprise. Harry had delivered a swift slap to her clit — not painful enough to ask him to stop, but just enough to deliver a sizzling sensation to her core. "Tell me you'll moan for me." "I will, sir," she whines, rutting helplessly against his hand. He smirks and pinches the skin at her inner thigh before nodding again, a wordless order to continue. Hesitantly, she rocks her hips, building up a slow and intentional pace that hits her clit at the perfect angle. She’s dripping now, embarrassingly so, and making a mess both between their legs and on Harry's, but she’s too turned on to care. There’s something about knowing he’s watching her get off and doing exactly what he asks of her that sends her to another dimension. It’s not long before she feels a familiar tightening in her stomach. They’d built each other up and up and up, teasing one another until they could barely stand it, so she’s not surprised when her muscles started to clench, pathetic gasps falling from her swollen lips. "Is my good girl gonna cum?" Harry teases from beneath her. She nods jerkily, her nails digging into his stomach. "Let me see. Cum all over my leg, baby. Make a mess." Harry's dirty talk is finally what does her in. With a few more rocks of her hips, she’s in heaven, whimpering out calls of his name as she peaks. He holds her hips to keep me on his leg as she bounces helplessly through her orgasm, her eyes slowly blinking open to find a smirk on his face when she finally begins coming down. "You're heaven sent, y'know that?" he mumbles. Y/N laughs breathily as she shakes her head, her blushy gaze falling to his lap. He thumbs at her bottom lip and gently nudges her chin up. “Lemme take you home tonight,” he whispers, cupping her cheek in his palm, “I wanna take care of you.” She nods. “Yeah, okay. You’ll wait for me to finish my shift?” “Of course,” he murmurs as he presses his forehead against hers. “Always.”

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pellucid-constellations · 3 months

Text

If It All Fell (3)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: Angst (obvi)

a/n: It's about to reallyyyy get started in the next part (I promise there will be fluff in this fic eventually). Thank you so much for reading and interacting with this series ❤️❤️ I love writing it!!

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ☆ Part 4 ☼

Series Masterlist

Mor’s fingers slid along book spines as she circled the room. A fire crackled and popped beneath the mantle, providing ambiance as the blonde retold another story of your life. You, unsure how to move about the space, remained seated in a rather large chair with an uncomfortably low back.

“Gods, you wouldn’t talk to Rhys for a week. He was beside himself,” she laughed, shaking her head in faint fondness. “You refused to stay at the House out of pure spite. That’s when you and Azriel decided—”

She cut herself off, nearly tripping on the ornate rug under your chair.

“When Azriel and I decided what?” you probed.

Mor bit into her lip, taking a large breath. “That story is for another time.”

You hummed, hiding your frustration beneath a close-lipped grin.

A story for another time.

This was your story, and yet, there were so many pieces that weren’t making sense. There was so much being kept from you—you could feel it—but why? Why did Mor omit some things and freely speak of others? Why was the topic of Azriel so… taboo?

Your thoughts traveled back to the lunch yesterday, the way Azriel had abruptly vanished. He hadn’t been able to spend even an hour in your presence. The rest of the meal had been tense, with Cassian attempting to save your feelings by sending subtle jabs Azriel’s way and Mor shooting daggers at the swinging door.

Maybe you and Azriel were enemies? It certainly didn’t feel that way whenever he was around. Granted, you’d only seen him twice since waking up, but those two times weren’t filled with hostility or ire, were they?

Mor moved over to the window. You clenched the cushion of your chair between tense fingers.

Did Azriel not like you?

The thought sent daggers through your chest, which was odd, considering the man had only spoken about four words to you. But… he had to like you, didn’t he? When Mor spoke of your family, of your place in this court, she always included Azriel. He was always some part of the stories of your life.

But that didn’t mean the two of you were friends.

That didn’t mean he liked being around you.

Perhaps the Inner Circle was attempting to rewrite history—reform a bond between friends that had long been burned. Maybe the two of you had constant disagreements and fights and the rest of them were sick of it, using your lack of memories to drive you back together. That would certainly explain Azriel’s disappearance yesterday.

The conclusion ate away at you. It ate and ate until you were left feeling hollow. How could one person—a person you didn’t even know—be affecting you so much? There was a vast array of other problems you should be dwelling on.

“He doesn't like me very much, does he?”

You hadn’t meant to ask the question; the words had spilled out without permission.

Mor’s head jutted back in confusion, her mouth opening in the shape of a scoff. “Who?”

“Azriel,” you clarified, suddenly feeling so small in the large, confusing chair you sat in. “I know I lost my memory, but I still grasp context clues, Mor. You’re always hesitant to speak of him and he didn’t exactly seem overjoyed to be spending time with me yesterday. Listen—” you held your hand up, stopping Mor from giving you the excuses you could see welling up “—I don’t care, okay? I don’t care how bad it all sounds. I just want to know the truth. I can’t… I can’t even begin to figure this all out without the complete truth.”

The conflicted twist of Mor’s brow was glaringly apparent. She brought her fingers together at her waistline, fidgeting with them in what you assumed to be a nervous habit.

A lick of sympathy made you add, “Come on, it can’t be that bad, right? Whatever it is?”

A pause.

“I don’t know if I should be the one to explain this all to you,” Mor said, struggling over each word.

“It seems like no one else will.” You stood from your chair, ignoring the strange sense of loss from your departure. Did the rest of this room smell so much of cedar and night-kissed air? “Please, Mor. I’m so confused. I know more about myself, about you and I—you’ve done a wonderful job at that—but… I need to know everything. There’s a chance that I… a chance that I don’t get my memories back. I need to know who I am. Every part.”

You brought your hands up to grasp at Mor’s, pleading with her through your gaze. Your friend—she had become your friend—stared back at you with so much disparaged hope.

“You could still—”

“Please, Mor.”

You squeezed her fingers.

She closed her eyes and sighed.

“Y/n, Azriel—”

Something crashed, causing Mor to yank your hands back until you were secure behind her, her body acting as a shield between you and the door. There was another bang, a panicked voice, and then heavy footsteps. Your back pressed against the glass window, a chill sinking into your bones.

“—in her and Az’s reading room.”

The door slammed open not a moment later, Cassian bursting through in a frazzled state. He quickly scanned the room before landing on you and Mor. He locked eyes with the blonde, gave a quick nod, almost indistinguishable, and then turned his gaze to you.

“You want to meet our High Lord?”

You could feel the tension the moment you stepped into the room.

Shadows battled for purchase around Azriel, his fists clenched at his sides as he stood opposite Rhysand. A desk separated them, filled with papers and books and notes. Neither made any indication that they had heard your group enter the office until Rhysand shot his eyes to the corner of his vision.

Azriel sighed, deep and menacing, as if Rhysand had insulted him gravely.

But he hadn’t said anything.

Rhysand’s jaw shifted to the side.

Cassian spoke, and it was then you realized his arm was pressing you back into the doorway. “Everything good in here?”

Mor stood ground behind you, keeping a firm hand on your back.

“Everything is fine,” Rhysand replied, steady voice matching his steady gaze on the male in front of him.

“You both sure? Because you told me to get her and I don’t know if having two Illyrians—”

“Everything is fine, Cassian,” Rhysand repeated. Some of the tension left him. With a sharp look in Azriel’s direction, he turned his attention toward you, craning his head to the side to catch you behind Cassian’s broad shoulders. “Hello, y/n.”

A nervous breath left you; whether it was from the hostility in the room or the greeting from the High Lord, you didn’t know. When Cassian nodded to Azriel and moved to the side, allowing you a full entrance, you glanced around quickly and caught the eyes of each person once, and then twice.

You licked your drying lips. “High Lord,” you responded, bending at the knee and lowering your gaze.

You had no recollection as to how long a bow was supposed to last. There was just some intrinsic part of you that knew the gesture was needed. Rhysand was a High Lord and you were… well, you weren’t sure what your title was—if you even had one. What your place was within this court.

No one had deigned to tell you.

When you rose after a seemingly acceptable amount of time, you were met with a still silence. All of the previous tension in the room melted away to create space for the stifling pause that permeated the air. Rhysand blinked at you, and then blinked again.

And then he had to cover his mouth because he began laughing.

A new emotion you could not remember experiencing invaded every inch of your body. It took you several seconds of enduring Rhysand’s muffled laugh before you recognized it as mortification. Pure, unadulterated mortification.

You clasped your hands together in front of your waist and took a harrowing breath in, trying to fight back the sudden burn in your nose.

Azriel, who had been watching you with careful grace since you stepped out from behind Cassian, turned his head with a sharp snap and growled at his High Lord. The leather around his fingers, placed there to keep his blazing siphons in place, groaned as his fists constricted once more.

Rhysand banished the argument before it began, attempting to wipe away the laugh with his fingers. “I’m—I’m sorry, y/n,” he chuckled, collecting himself further, tucking his hands in his pockets. “I know this is not funny for you, but… but I have never seen you do that a day in your life. And you have met several High Lords.”

You glanced around to gauge the reactions of the others in the room, finding Cassian with his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek to fight a smile and Mor staring up at the ceiling, in the midst of that same battle. Some of the embarrassment fled, but it was only replaced with confusion.

“I.. I’m sorry, I just assumed—because you’re a High Lord, I assumed your station required—”

Rhysand shook his head and gently corrected your rambling. “In a public space, perhaps. Maybe not in Velaris. And certainly not from someone I consider to be a sister.”

A sister.

Your family.

Right.

“I’m sure Helion would welcome the greeting,” Cassian huffed out from beside you, his words laced with an unrealized laugh. “Especially since the last time you greeted the High Lord of Day you told him to never again try baking in his entire immortal life. Not even a hello.”

Whatever discussion was occurring prior to your entrance was long forgotten. Even Azriel cracked a smile at that, and the room was filled with more than Rhysand’s laughs. The sounds, although new for you, had a smile tugging at your own lips. It was the first time since you woke up that no one was frowning at you, or fighting off tears, or storming away in bouts of shadows.

In fact, the feeling was so jarring you found yourself laughing as well—a tentative laugh, but one of the first that felt real.

It was a few more moments of joyous forgetting before silence took over again, but it was a lighter silence this time. Rhysand motioned to the chair facing his desk, and you took the seat, Cassian standing tall behind you, Mor positioning herself on the arm.

Azriel remained standing just a step away.

His face was void of a smile once again.

Rhysand cleared his throat. “It seems wrong to introduce myself now, but I must ask that you call me Rhys—or Rhysand, if I’ve really done something to piss you off. But not High Lord.” When you only nodded in agreement, he looked down at his desk, something lost in his eye. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around for you sooner. I’ve been researching—trying to figure this out.”

“I know. Thank you, Hi—Rhys,” you corrected. Cassian squeezed your shoulder from behind. A shadow followed the movement, slinking down from the Illyrian’s hand to loop around your neck.

“There isn’t much literature on witches, unfortunately. Not here. I’ve had Amren, another member of our court, looking through what she knows. She—well, she knows a great deal about many things that we don’t understand.” Rhysand sighed. Humor left him. “The consensus so far is that anything done by a witch can only be undone by that witch. Meaning—”

“Meaning there’s no hope unless we can find her,” you finished for him. “But—” your brows furrowed “—I’m the only one who saw her. Mor’s told me about that day. No one else saw the witch but me and now I…”

The burning in your nose was back, this time accompanied by the pounding in your head and the pressure in your chest. Both had become constants in your life. A sickening sort of panic twisted its way through you, leaving your breath unsteady even as Cassian ran a comforting hand over your shoulders and Mor offered silent encouragement at your side.

The only thing keeping your tears at bay were the shadows that had sought you out, their presence tickling your skin and serving as a distraction. That, and the azure glow continuously catching the corner of your eye as Azriel clenched and unclenched his fist.

“There are two avenues we can take,” Rhys offered with a kind, calm smile. “I am able to see into minds, oftentimes past what even you might be cognizant of. If you allow me to, I can enter your memories and take a look… maybe see the witch or something useful.”

You could make it worse.

You remembered bits and pieces from the day you were attacked, but some things were clearer than others. You had no idea who said what, but you knew someone had warned Rhys against this—someone had wrapped themselves around you and kept him far, far away.

“Would that hurt?” you asked.

A trembling exhale fell from the shadowsinger’s lips. You turned to look at him, but he kept his eyes forward.

“I would do my best to ensure that it didn’t,” Rhys comforted, his own eyes darting from Azriel and back to you. “At any sign of discomfort, I would stop. The goal would just be to see where your memories lay, if they were accessible at all. And to see if there was anything hidden about the witch.”

You nodded, trying to reconvene privately as you stared down at your fingers.

He would just take a look. Maybe it would somehow stop this incessant pounding in your head or maybe he would be able to see the memory of the witch. Maybe your memories were there, and you just didn’t have access to them yourself.

Maybe, maybe, maybe…

“If you aren’t comfortable with that—” Azriel’s low voice cut through your rampage of thoughts. “—we still have several people looking for information. As spymaster, I can assure you that all personnel available are on the hunt in Spring Court.”

You looked up, and Azriel met your eye for the first time since that disastrous lunch. Something felt like it fractured within you, a desolation so sharp it stung, but just as abruptly, that feeling washed away. It felt as if it seeped through some crack only to be reined in and slammed behind several locked doors.

You rubbed at your chest in an attempt to soothe the ache the feeling left. Azriel flickered his gaze down to watch your hand, clenched his jaw, and then looked back up. Softer this time—an apology you couldn’t comprehend.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “It means a lot that you are spending so much time on this. I—I can’t begin to thank you fully.”

Some of the conviction you had grown so used to seeing on Azriel’s face crumbled. He took a half-step towards you, a seemingly unconscious movement.

“Anything.” His voice was so soft it was almost a whisper. “Y/n, anything.”

It wasn't until Rhys spoke again that you were snapped out of the trance Azriel had locked you in. “I cannot guarantee I will see anything, if you choose to allow me in,” the High Lord explained. When you looked over at him, a sad smile lingered. “Which is why an alternative may be needed.”

“Of course,” you nodded, an encouragement for him to continue.

Rhys pushed his fingers together as they sat atop his desk. “We would take you to Day Court. Helion—the High Lord Cassian mentioned—is skilled in spell-cleaving. He may be able to undo some of what the witch did, if that’s possible. Or just give us a better read on the situation.”

Mor startled from beside you, “Rhys—”

“It wouldn’t be like last time,” Rhys placated, once again glancing toward the shadowsinger. “It wouldn’t.”

“Couldn’t Feyre—”

“She doesn’t have that much control over each of the court powers yet. We—we tried.”

“Feyre?” you asked, but the question was directed to no one and no one answered it.

“It’s a brilliant plan, isn’t it?” Azriel spit out, vitrole tainting each syllable. The heat rose in the room.

Cassian cut in this time, his voice a vibration at the back of your head. “Azriel, maybe—”

You couldn’t focus on anything they were saying as each line spoken left you with more questions, more pieces you couldn’t connect. Azriel was mad, Mor was concerned, Cassian was attempting to play the mediator. You had no idea what role Rhys filled, but you assumed it was the level-headed High Lord who only wanted the best for his court.

But Azriel was too livid and that emotion drowned out all the rest.

It wouldn’t be like last time.

What happened last time?

“I can’t go through that again,” Azriel stressed, his palm now flat on the wood of Rhys’s desk. “We can’t put her through that again.”

But it had sounded like the Night Court was friendly with Day; Cassian made it seem like you were close enough with Helion to make jabs at his cooking.

Put you through what?

“Maybe,” Cassian gritted out, his fingers kneading comfort into your arm. “This isn’t the best discussion to be having. Maybe we start with the first plan and if Rhys can’t find anything, we talk about it.”

Azriel leaned away from the desk, a sharp breath leaving his nose. The shadows that had swarmed around him calmed and flowed along the floor, stopping at your feet. A link between the two of you, it looked like—like a thread or a river or a bridge.

You expected Azriel to leave again, to storm off and avoid this entire situation. You wouldn’t exactly blame him; even with Cassian’s negotiation, there were still so many contingencies and unknowns. This wasn’t simple or clear cut, and it would take a lot of time—time perhaps not so willingly given.

But he didn’t.

Azriel bit back a snarl and pushed back into the shadows, but he didn’t leave.

You felt his eyes on you from the corner of the room, and something within you calmed while something else chafed.

Amidst a soft ringing in your ears, you caught Mor’s low grumble. “At least now we know why they were at each other’s throats when we walked in.”

Cassian scoffed out a disbelieving sound.

And you… you gave in to a few of the tears that had been burning behind your eyes, completely missing that the crack in your chest had returned. Completely missing that it was the cause—emotions that weren't entirely yours influencing the dampness on your cheeks.

Part 4 ☼

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #acotar fanfiction #azriel angst #azriel #azriel fic

1K notes · View notes

sapphosclosefriend · 6 months

Text

- Money, Power, Glory pt 1 -

Pairing: CEO! Silverfox! Natasha Romanoff x Escort! Fem! Reader

Genre: suggestive

Summary: Natasha Romanoff, successful and rich CEO, books an urgent meeting with someone who she might be able to finally destress with. Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: top! Natasha x bottom! R, Natasha has a penis, BIG age gap (N=56, R=24), suggestive themes.

A/N: this story contains mature topics so anyone who isn’t 18+ DNI. Just as an introduction hehe don't worry, their first time is in the next one, I won't leave it out! Thanks sooo much to @rt--link and @supercorpdanbeau for being the kindest and both helping me out ❤️ As usual, likes, reblogs and comments are very appreciated! Enjoy ♡

Masterlist

You still remember clearly the day you received the call from your agent. You honestly thought it was a cruel joke of hers at first, but the serious, yet excited, tone in her voice easily reassured you of the realness of the situation. The fact that she was calling you in the first place, and not quickly messaging you, was clear proof of just how important and urgent the matter was. Not only were you requested for that same night, meaning that the trusted woman deemed the new customer as important enough to ditch the advance days you usually demanded, but the house you needed to get to was of no regular person.

You were a high end escort, pleasing la creme de la creme only, well, at least in terms of monetary assets. You, and the agency you worked with, were known for your discretion, professionalism and skills, an overall level of competence that simply tended to attract clients of a certain status. And that's how you met her, the Natasha Romanoff herself, CEO of a multi-billion company she had created from the ground up in her decades-long career. But why was she so important? She would've been the richest one of your clients, it was as simple as that. Pretty much every single one of them were at the head of, if not close to, big and different companies, all with the highest power of the twenty-first century in their hands, money. You had actually thought about dipping your toes in the world of politics once, which was not so surprisingly filled with countless requests interested in your realm of expertise, but thanks to long consideration and much advice, you had decided to avoid its risks, settling on who you knew, after all, had what you wanted, filthy rich assholes. And gosh, wasn't she the richest one of them all.

Aside from her status, the thought of such a woman, so idolized she seemed unattainable, who could and probably had everything in the world, asking for your company, intrigued you immensely. That day, during every single hour you had spent to thoroughly take care of your appearance just for her, anticipation completely took over you. You knew she was beautiful and you genuinely thought she was fucking hot, which wasn't necessarily to be taken for granted in your line of work, but what you found yourself needing to know, and consequently making your interest in her grow even more, was how she was going to be in private. Was she going to be just like one of those countless naggingly cocky know-it-all's who thought of themselves as some sex gods, and gods in general, but really couldn't even figure out if you had cum yet? You found yourself almost wanting her to be different than everybody else, because deep down you felt like, even if she was the most annoying, full of herself bitch ever, you would’ve gladly tried to satisfy every single one of her needs and taken anything from her with a smile on your face. Ok, maybe scrolling for an hour through the internet looking up information about her and consequently ending up lost through any picture of her you could find wasn’t the best idea, but what could you say, you had a bit of a sweet spot for powerful women.

What you gathered from your innocent stalking session, though, was mainly about her countless successes in life but also concerning some gossip regarding her not so successful marriage life. It didn’t bother you, barely anything about your clients did at that point, but it only intrigued you more about why she wanted someone like you. She could’ve had anybody, she was a walking goddess with her pockets more than full and ladies most definitely falling at her feet left and right, yet there she was, in her car, getting back home after one of the longest and most tiring weeks of the past few months to wait for a girl she’d only seen a couple pictures of to take her mind off of everything. Her driver immediately knew not to even greet her by her frustrated sigh and the pinching of the bridge of her own nose as soon as she got in the car and immediately took off to her desired destination, making Natasha thank any and all gods for the nice relief after such displays of incompetence she had to endure from basically her whole staff. She was right at her limit and all the pent up anger and irritation from the week was finally starting to crack her composed facade at the prospect of the imminent weekend slowly reaching her. She didn’t even want to have dinner, she just needed to be at home, everyone out of her goddamn house and a pussy to unload some stress into. If she had to be honest, in that specific moment, she even missed her disastrous married life and the perk of having a wife always waiting for her at home, ready to meet her needs at the end of the day.

She, unfortunately, never felt the symptoms of "true love" with any of her ex wives, but the thought of how badly it had gone wrong with all of them still pained her a little every time her mind drifted to that phase of her life. During her successful yet busy life she'd been through her fair share of failed marriages, all with beautiful women she'd deeply cared for, but all eventually focused on one thing only, her absence. The first thing she'd always made sure to make very, very clear was just how little time she had to dedicate to anything outside of her company, which unfortunately included her personal life. Her best guess was that the haziness coming from a brand new love must've made it hard to get a grasp on her words…every single time, apparently.

It didn't matter anymore, though, because what she had to focus on now seemed to be much more important than any matter ever had. The quick, warm shower she had just enough time to take as soon as she got home was thankfully able to wash away the surface level anger that was starting to make her temple throb, preventing her from being a rude prick for the rest of the night. She was aware, after all, of the favor you were doing to her by working the night without any notice and all she wanted to do was be respectful for your kind availability. Being her perfectionist self, and deep down maybe even wanting you to like her, she knew she had to focus on not losing her mind on minor things like her outfit, so she decided to try to at least appear to be careless about her appearance and only focus the last bits of mental strength she had on the more relaxing, pleasurable parts of the night. Of course she still couldn't help but fix her hair just a little and change her sweatshirt for a still casual but more put together beige, cashmere sweater. She'd had it for years and, despite its condition not being the best, she couldn't bring herself to get rid of it, it just reminded her too much of- nevermind. A few small holes and pulled threads on her top would certainly be the last thought on your mind anyway.

She didn't even realize she was starting to zone out while still looking at herself in the mirror, when the sudden, distant ring of the front door slightly startled her, effectively making her get herself back together. What was minutes away from happening truly dawned on her as she descended the stairs to the first floor and, for a brief moment, as she walked through the entrance corridor and saw the blurry outline of your figure through the frosted glass of the tall door, time seemed to slow down and for the first time in years she felt a small twinge of anxiety creeping up on her the closer she got to you. She was really doing it, she was really about to follow the advice of her idiot Stark friend and didn't mind it too much. Maybe she was really getting old, maybe age was starting to actually play some tricks on her, because, as her hand pushed the cold handle of the entrance door and started to pull it open, the snippets of hair she could start to see of you lit a confident fire in her that only burned more vividly as your form was finally fully displayed to her, making it impossible for her to suppress the excitement she suddenly felt at the sight of you in person, looking at her through your lashes with subtle faux innocence she could see right through.

"Good evening, Ms Romanoff"

Part 2

Tags: @fxckmiup @natashasilverfox

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff smut #black widow #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #black widow smut #marvel #mcu

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eufezco · 4 months

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A SEASHORE CONFESSION — FINNICK ODAIR X FEM!TRIBUTE!READER

SYNOPSIS ― Finnick opens up about his feelings for the first time in the arena of the Quarter Quell.

It was relaxing to watch him play with the spike on the seashore. He used his hands to move the weapon with such a delicacy and fluidity. His gaze was lost, what would he be thinking about? The waves crashed against his feet like they did back home. Would he be thinking of that? On how he missed home? You missed District 4 as well, living in the victor's village, going for walks to the beach, and lying on the sand watching the sun disappear into the sea. Just like you were doing now, the difference was that that same day you were almost killed by the toxic gas and devoured by monkeys. That felt nothing like home except for Finnick.

You were sitting on the sand, separated from the group and admiring him. He had always been your friend, you had always admired Finnick from the distance. You were hugging your knees against your chest when he turned his face to look at you and you looked away ashamed that he had caught. Finnick smiled and walked towards you. He sat next to you, leaving his spike at his side and his arms holding his knees against his chest.

You were still looking away.

―How are you feeling? ―He asked. The idea of returning to the arena had not pleased you and he knew about it.

―Finnick. ―You ran to him, hiding your face in his chest. ―I can't do this, I can't do it again.

―Yes you can. It's okay, you're gonna be okay I promise you. ―He held your head against his chest. His own heart was beating so fast, the news had also shocked him. He liked the life he had with you, he did not want this either. ―Look at me, look at me. I'm not letting anything happen to you. You'll be fine.

―I'm okay I guess. Too much has happened today. The monkeys were pretty scary. —You draw shapes on the sand. Still not daring to make eye contact with him.

—I agree with that.

You both remained silent for a moment. Finnick was admiring the sunset and you were busy finishing your drawing in the sand. You could hear Katniss and Peeta talking in the distance.

—I saw you looking at me.

—I know you did.

—I look at you the same way when you don't notice.

You turned your head to look at him and Finnick pressed his lips together and smiled. Now it was him who looked away, embarrased.

—I'm sure it is not in the same way, Finnick.

You moved closer to him so you could rest your head on his shoulder. When you did, Finnick planted a soft kiss on your forehead. You never asked him for anything more because you didn't think it'd be fair for him. A better life awaited him in the Capitol. He was destined for much more than walking on the beach in District 4 with you.

Finnick used one of his hands to pinch your chin and lift your head from his shoulder. With his fingers still holding you and with a look of wonder on your face, he kissed you. His lips only connected with yours for a few seconds until he broke the kiss to see your reaction. The voices of your allies also went silent, waiting to see what your reaction would be.

—Are you doing this because they're watching? —You mumbled soft enough to know that no camera could hear you.

Finnick shook his head, his eyes moving to your from your lips.— Why would I do that? They already have Katniss and Peeta.

You remained silent. Your gaze moved between his lips and his eyes, trying to analyze his face but by this time there was nothing about him that you hadn't spent hours admiring. His mouth did not lie to you, much less his bright green eyes that were still waiting for a sign of approval from you.

—Why here, Finnick?

—Because I'm afraid of losing you I guess. —Finnick focused on your lips, opening up like that, and looking directly into your eyes felt too intimate. Back home you were safe but now anything at any moment could take you away from him. Perhaps Finnick had underestimated his feelings for you. Maybe taking you for granted had made him not appreciate enough how he truly felt.

—You guess? —You were not afraid of the intimacy that Finnick refused. You had been craving for it for a long time but you knew how the Capitol had screwed up the way he interacted romantically with other people, so you never wanted to put pressure on him.

His lower lip trembled and his voice sounded weak as he said it. His eyes looked at you, filled with tears. —Because I'm afraid of losing you.

You flashed him a little smile and cupped one of his cheeks. With that gesture, you thanked him for opening up and felt guilty for not having let him do it sooner. Before you were put into the arena it had all been about you and the fear you had of going through the same thing that you went through less than three years ago. You did not stop to ask him how he felt and Finnick didn't consider his feelings, not when you had panic attacks every night before you were thrown into the arena.

—Can I kiss you again? Please?

—Now you're asking?

You made him laugh, but immediately after, his lips were on yours again. It was a soft and delicate kiss yet Finnick's lips were moving intensely, almost in desperation, as if he wanted to get everything that he had not dared to claim in District 4, as if to make up for lost time in the few minutes you would be sitting on the sand.

my requests are open for the hunger games 📥

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 7 months

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Harvest Moon

Steven Grant X F!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2023 Masterlist • Day 4: Sex Pollen

Summary: Being Khonshu's avatar has some... unexpected effects.

A/N: I'm so sorry. Set before Steven knows about Marc.

Warnings: sex pollen - so dubcon (both sides are effected, Steven more than reader and both had a crush on the other before they were infected), love bites, cum eating, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, cream pie, cuming in troursers, so much cuuuuummmm, typos, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 4073

Steven couldn’t concentrate.

It was strange, a fidget just below his skin. Like every muscle was contracting and relaxing at random intervals.

He took off his reading glasses and sighed, rubbing his eyes to try to shift whatever was going on. Maybe he was tired.

Which didn’t make much sense. He was always tired.

Perhaps this was the accumulation of trying to survive on three hours of sleep or less every day for most of his adult life.

He tried again to focus on the book in front of him, leaning an elbow on his desk. The words twitched on the page, flickered as if they were going to jump up and run off the paper at any moment.

The strange thing was, he didn’t feel tired. Quite the opposite in fact. He was full of energy, jittery as if he’d just downed five coffees made with Red Bull instead of water and a handful of Pro Plus. (Though, he usually steered clear of coffee - for some reason it made him sleepy.)

Still, the fidgety, restless energy seemed to only build. Grow deep in the pit of his belly and squirm around like he’d swallowed live eels that were now making a home in his large intestine.

It almost burned, the blood in his veins boiling from the inside. He stood up, agitated and restless. Maybe, maybe he just needed to go for a walk. Use up some anxious energy, yeah, that was it.

Steven glanced at his phone, it was 19:54, not late. He could maybe walk to the corner shop and back. The fresh air would help. Surely that would put him right.

He stood, fighting the urge to shake his muscles, and put on his trainers.

Yeah, go out, go to the shop, come back, he’d feel better. He’d feel so much better.

“I’ll be back in a sec' Gus.” He gave the goldfish a little wave as he put on his jacket and checked that he had his keys.

That restless energy, the burn of it seemed to increase, grow even as he moved. Buzzed behind his eyes.

Slowly, Marc was pulled forward, woken from deep down. He watched Steven move from the reflection in the fish tank, confused for a moment until… he recognised that energy, those sensations that were running along their nerves.

Panic gripped hold of him as he tried to force his way to the front, to push Steven back.

But… nothing.

He swore and tried again, not caring if Steven heard him, he needed to take control, get the body to the storage locker, steal the door and take those medical-grade tranquillisers he hid under the mattress.

How could he have been so stupid? How could he have lost track of the days so badly?

He pushed forward again, trying to seize control. But it was hopeless like he was separated by a thick layer of glass.

This was bad, this was bad, this was bad, this was so very, very bad.

There was a small breeze, cool air that made Steven turn, look over his shoulder and glance about the flat for a window he had left open. Nothing.

Marc swore loudly. This was Khonshu’s doing. It had to be.

The god had been uncharacteristically silent the last few days, and quiet the previous couple of weeks. Luring Marc into a false sense of security and letting him give more and more time up to Steven.

Poor Steven, who had no idea what he was in store for.

The first time it had happened Marc had thought he was going to die. The way his heart beat, his blood burned, every single muscle crying out at once. He’d had enough panic attacks in his life to know that this certainly wasn’t one, and for a brief moment, he thought that he had been poisoned.

It wasn’t until Khonshu appeared and explained. The phase of the moon at that time of the lunar year. It had been a cause of celebration, festivals honouring new life. And due to Marc’s role as an avatar, he was ‘gifted’ with the effects.

A gift he would very much like to return and never see again.

Khonshu had been… displeased by Marc’s rejection, by his unwillingness to observe the traditions of the old ways. But had stayed quiet when Marc sealed himself away and knocked himself out.

Marc had wrongly assumed that the moon god had got over it. Realised that there was no way his avatar would take part.

He didn’t think he would use Steven instead.

Marc had to take control, had to stop him from going outside, from running into other people and experiencing the effects. He tried to push forward again to no avail as Steven stepped out of the flat, his mind buzzing.

Steven blinked heavily, trying to shift the little spots of light that had started to dance just at the very corners of his vision. He fumbled with his keys for a second, sweat beading on his forehead. When had the corridor become so hot? He pulled at his collar, trying to cool himself.

There was a warmth growing in his lower stomach, and heavy an uncomfortable weight, like lead straining at his muscles. He needed… something. There was an odd carving at the back of his throat, a constriction of his windpipe that seemed to pull at-

“Hi Steven.”

He turned suddenly, his body moving well before his mind had even caught up.

You smiled at him from the other side of the corridor as you stood outside your flat, your bag pulled over your shoulder, keys in hand.

Oh no, oh no, oh no, no, no. Marc screamed inside the headspace. Not you, not you, anyone but you.

You had moved in a little over three months ago. Had smiled and chatted briefly with Steven when you both ran into each other in the lift.

It was only four weeks ago when Steven had found himself outside in the streets of London late at night (sleepwalking again). He had managed to get back to the flat with the help of city mapper and it was only when he was outside the block of flats that he realised he didn’t have his keys.

After a few nervous minutes, he had pressed your buzzer with shaking hands and stumbled out an apology. To his absolute shock and dizzying relief, you can come down to let him in with a kind smile. You had even invited him into your own home while he waited for the 24 locksmith to arrive. Served him cups of tea and vegan shortbread biscuits while you both talked.

Steven had been quietly remorseful when the locksmith finally arrived.

As he was leaving you had invited him to a live music event you were going to at the Fox and Firkin, but sadly Steven had been working that weekend.

He had been steadily working up the courage to ask you out, something casual. Relaxed. Informal. So you both could talk and maybe he would get a chance to judge your interest on a proper date. But the longer he left it, the more awkward it seemed. The more nights he spent in the shower fisting his palm and moaning your name behind his hand.

Marc pressed harder against the mental block, swearing under his breath as he fought for control.

Steven’s pulse quickened, heat prickling all over his skin as blood rushed downwards. He swallowed, the embarrassment that he would normally experience completely swept away by a deep mind-numbing ache. “Hi.” He whispered.

You frown a little. He looked like he was in a daze, his skin flushed and pupils wide. “You okay?”

The softness in your voice, the genuine concern for him made Steven snap. A small growl escaped his chest. It was like all his senses had heightened and pinpointed, narrowed. He needed you.

“Ste-”

He moves faster than you thought possible, surging forward and pinning you to the wall with a bruising strength that knocks the air from your lungs. You don’t even have time to gasp before his lips are on yours, his hands on your waist as he pushes his thigh between your legs.

You murmur his name into his mouth, your surprise cut off by the glide of his tongue and how his body presses into yours.

Marc smacks against the barrier fruitlessly, unable to do much more than watch as Steven’s sensations begin to bleed into his own muscles.

Steven’s skin is feverish, heat rolling off him in waves as he grinds against you. The hard outline of his cock presses against your stomach, you can almost feel his rapid heartbeat through the denim of his jeans.

Instinctively you react to him, grabbing hold of his shoulder and neck as you kiss him back and slide your tongue against his as he kisses you greedily. For a second you’re sure you're dreaming. It’s the only possible explanation. There’s no way that your lovely, and seemingly oblivious to your every attempt at flirting, neighbour would suddenly jump you on a Thursday night and snog the life out of you.

You pull at his hair, lightly at first, but increasing the pressure when that does nothing. You barely manage to yank his head back an inch before his lips are on yours again, all tongue and teeth as he nips a trail down to your jaw and sucks a messy bruise just below your ear.

Somehow you manage to hold down your whimpered moan and speak, “Steven, what’s… I mean-oh shit-” You cut yourself off, biting down on your lip as his hand slide up to squeeze your breast, his thumb brushing over your hardening nipple.

There’s a faint ghost of a breeze, though from where you’re not sure. For a second a small wave of dizziness and heat run across your skin.

“Steven,” you try again even though you're pressing up against his every touch eagerly. “What’s going on?”

He groans against your neck. “I’m-I’m so sorry, I don’t know, I can’t, I need you so badly, I just,” he tries to halt his movements, to take his hands off your body, but the second he’s a fraction of a millimetre away from you an intense pain drills along his spine. He whimpers and presses closer, continuing to rub his heavy cock against your thigh.

“Did you take something?” You gasp, breathless as you try (and fail) to not grind your hips in time with his. It’s the only explanation, right? Though if there was a drug that made someone intensely horny you were sure you’d have heard about it by now.

He shakes his head, his mouth too preoccupied with sicking more love bites into your neck to speak.

“Do you think someone could have drugged you?”

Steven mutters something intelligible as he sinks his teeth into your skin and a strangled moan escapes your lips. This wasn’t right, none of this way right. Heat, stronger than anything you’d ever experienced before, began to burn in your lower belly. You had a crush on him, sure. You’d happily go on a date with him and be down for more after but this… You’d never been so desperate to fuck someone in your entire life.

It was like you were starting to lose the ability to think clearly, and you were worryingly sure that if you let this go on much longer you wouldn’t have any issue with riding Steven right there in the middle of the hallway.

“Steven,” you yanked his head back again by his hair, using an amount of force that would have normally been painful.

Instead, Steven groaned, closing his eyes as he arched back exposing the taunt lines of his neck for you.

“Love, please.” He whispered, though what he was begging for exactly, neither of you were sure.

“Let’s go inside.” You muttered, rushing your words together in an effort to hold yourself together for a little while longer.

You turn, just managing to struggle out of Steven’s grip to put your keys in the lock and open your front door.

Steven moans as you move, but quickly goes back to grinding against you. Pressing himself up against the swell of your ass and sighing as he kisses your neck.

You practically fall inside from Steven’s weight pushing against your back. But his strong hands on your hips keep you upright. His fingers slip under your top, greedily searching for your soft skin as you manage to close the door before he’s on top of you again.

He pushes you against the door, your chest pressed up against the wood as he pinches your nipples through the lace of your bra. He growls as you moan and arch back into him, your nails digging into the wood grain.

He ruts against your ass, rubbing his clothed erection against your soft flesh with a burning vigour. The weeping head of his cock is soaking into his boxers, but he can’t stop himself, can’t break away for a single moment, can’t spare the few seconds it would take to undress.

His little gasps and whimpers of air as he picks up his pace sends a flood of heat to your core and you gasp as he bites down on your neck hard. His left hand continues to squeeze your breast while his right snakes down and pushes under your leggings and underwear.

There is the tiniest voice in the back of your head, a worry that you would normally have that things are going too fast, but Steven’s moans in your ears, the feeling of his hands on you drowns everything out.

He presses his forefinger against your clit and moans at the wetness that he finds between your legs. Quickly, he circles your bundle of nerves over and over in time with the manic grind of his hips.

His breathing stutters. Just being pressed up against you like this is too good, the burning along his veins turning into molten lava as he continues to buck like his life depended on it.

The coil in his stomach starts to tighten uncontrollably, pressure at the base of his spine exploding outwards and-

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He moans loudly as he cums in his trousers, the pleasure whiting out all other thoughts as his hips falter.

You slow your movements down, coming to a stop as Steven breaths hard against your back. You open your mouth to speak, to ask him if he feels better. But you never get the chance.

In a blur he’s spinning you around, kissing your mouth harshly enough to knock your head back against the door with a thud. You barely register that despite obviously cumming, (the wetness on his jeans that press into you) he’s still rock hard and sweaty. His pulse thumps under your hands, so fast that you can barely distinguish each beat.

He pulls you to the ground, practically lifting you off your feet, and tearing off your clothes as if they had personally offended him. You try to undress him, barely getting his jacket off his shoulders and not even starting on his t-shirt before he’s kissing down your body and shoving his face into your core.

You gasp as he places a long flat lick through your folds, groaning at the taste and grinding his cock against the carpet.

“Steven-”

“Need to make you cum, please,” his voice is gravelly and wrecked, burnt out and desperate but he doesn’t stop the movement of his tongue, ending the lick by sucking at your clit and quickly slipping two fingers inside you.

He curls them perfectly, looking up at you with dark, pleading eyes. Pleasure sparks along your nerves as he fucks you hard with his fingers, watching your every reaction as he keeps his lips sucking firmly against your clit.

You moan loudly, enough that you’re probably going to get a noise complaint, and screw up your eyes, your back arching off the carpet.

The stretch of his thick fingers makes you whine as they work you open, finding every spot to make you fall apart as quickly as possible.

You grab hold of Steven’s hair with one hand, pressing him firmly against you and another low growl erupts from his chest as he pulls your left thigh over his shoulder and picks up the pace.

His tongue and fingers move in a hypnotic tandem, dragging you closer and closer to the edge with a dizzying speed. Your toes curl, your breath catching in your throat and all you can do is just feel that mind-numbing pleasure he is pulling you towards.

His name falls out of your mouth in a repeated jumble as you move against him thoughtlessly, your hips chasing every touch.

Steven moans against you, flicking your clit with the very tip of his tongue before sucking on it ruthlessly and stars explode behind your eyes.

You cum against him with a sob as your strength rushes out of you like a dam has been broken, your muscles clenching around him in utter bliss.

But all too quickly for your liking his pulling his fingers out of you and sitting up. You’re barely back to thinking straight as you lean up on your elbows, about to question him when you stop in your tracks, your mouth hanging open.

Steven groans as he shoves his fingers into his mouth, lapping up your creamy release. He pushes at his aching cock with the heel of his free hand, his hips jerking up into the touch. He looks like a god, skin flushed and sweaty, his hair dishevelled and sticking out at windswept angles. Your cum all over the bottom half of his face.

He gives you a dark look, his eyes almost blind with lust as he struggles to undo his fly without taking his fingers out of his mouth.

You lean up and quickly help him, marvelling at the strength in his thick thighs as he kicks them free of his jeans and boxers.

Your mouth goes dry and you swallow at the sight of him, the tip flushed and needy. Thick and long and you pause. Fuck. He was big, really big. Clarity seems to flash in your mind for the first time since you both went into your flat. How the hell were you going to fit that inside you?

Steven growls, kisses your neck, scraping his teeth over your pulse point and already edging forward as you lift up his t-shirt over his head.

Being away from you for a second hurts. Makes his stomach twist and nerves scream. His dick twitches impatiently, already smearing precum (and his release from before) all over your thighs as he pushes himself between your legs.

“Steven,” you start to say. The needy whine in your voice hampering your words.

“Yes love?” He forces you back down and takes himself in hand.

“I just, I’m-oh!”

He’s not even thinking about his actions before he’s already sheathing himself inside your tight, wet heat.

You gasp loudly, grabbing hold of his shoulders as he pushes impossibly deep, making you fuller than you have ever been and still he’s pressing deeper.

You whine out his name in a sob as he bucks against you, pulling out a little before he pushes further in, stretching you wide.

He swears under his breath, his eyes closed, brows furrowed together as he pulls out a centimetre before sinking deeper. Out, in, out, in, out, in, until finally he bottoms out. And it's heaven.

Steven doesn’t even give you a second to adjust to his size before he’s fucking you hard, bucking his hips like he wants to completely destroy you. Needs you to shatter under him.

You’re so full you can practically feel him in your throat, the stretch so deep that it’s like he’s pushed all your internal organs higher, limiting your lung space and not letting you take a full breath.

He grabs hold of the backs of your thighs, snarling as he forces them towards your chest, his fingers pressing bruises into your skin as he positions you into a mating press. His hips never falter, continuing their deep, hard onslaught that hits at a part of you you didn’t know existed. Every thrust sends a wave of pleasure up your spine, so perfect that it’s almost inhuman. Your slick coats his cock, smearing on his thighs as he fucks you within an inch of your life.

“Steven,” you whine, your eyes rolling back as your second orgasm hurtles towards you.

“Fuck, love,” he growls in your ear, biting at your neck. “So wet for me, so needy, I’m gonna break you, I’m gonna make you all mine.”

You moan loudly. Pleasure beginning to drown out every thought. His public bone grinds against your clit, making you want to scream.

“You know how many times I’ve cum thinking about you and what you’d taste like?” He growls as he snaps his hips in a relentless rhythm. “So fucking better than anything I could imagine.”

You grab hold of him, your muscles tightening as his words send you over the edge. You cum hard, crying out as he ruts into you through it.

He snarls as he cums, but his hips don’t stop as he pumps load after load of his spend into you and fucks it deeper until you're completely full.

Your breathing starts to recover momentarily, but Steven is still rock hard and hitting that devastating spot inside of you so perfectly that it makes your head spin.

Pleasure starts to creep back into your stomach and you whine, sobbing at the overstimulation.

“Love, I’m so sorry,” he bites his lip, trying to slow his hips to no avail. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“It’s okay,” you manage to stammer out as his thrusts punch the air from your lungs. “Don’t stop.” Tears start to form in the corners of your eyes. Too much, but you needed more. The idea of him stopping now boarding on painful.

“Won’t stop, promise.” He moans against your lips, pushing you closer to the edge again. “Fuck!” He pulls out quickly and you whine.

But you're barely given a second to lament the loss before Steven’s pulling you up with him. Your limbs are like jelly and you’re thankful for his surprising strength as he turns you around.

You expect him to enter you doggy style but instead, he kneels down, his hands on your thighs and under your knees, and lowers you onto his cock with a dizzying speed. Your moan catches in your throat as he fills you. The stretch of this angle is intense as the head of his cock presses perfectly against that sweet spot inside.

Steven groans as your walls clench around him, your own slick mixing with his cum to let him glide in.

He places your legs outside of his and grabs hold of your breast with his right hand, kneading and squeezing it in time with his deep thrusts as his left toys and circles your clit.

He bounces you up and down on his cock as he mouths at your neck, adding to the love bites from before, his chest pressed flush to your back.

“S-Steven,” you barely get the word out, your nerves flayed raw with pleasure as he keeps pushing you higher and higher. You’re weak, light-headed and desperate as he growls in your ear; as he plays your body, brings you closer again like he had every cell memorised. “I’m gonna,” you sob. You don’t even get to finish the sentence.

Another deep trust and you cum, squirming on his lap in bliss as your orgasm overtakes you.

Steven swears, bucking up into you and biting his lip as your wall clench around him, trying to squeeze out every last drop as he follows you into that mind-shattering ecstasy.

He cums deep, some spilling down his cock despite how tightly he is pressed inside, your pussy just too full to hold anymore.

As you breathe deeply, trying to recover he holds you tightly, his hips still bucking upwards. His hard length still pushing firmly inside you.

“Love,” he whines, reaching down again to stroke your clit. “Please, just one more, just one more.”

How could you ever deny him?

____________________________________

Thank you for reading! I'm not doing my normal tag list for kinktober as to not overwhelm anyone, please let me know if you'd like to be added/taken off.

@flightlessangelwings @steven-grants-world @lonelyisamyw-0love @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moon @campingwiththecharmings @minigirl87

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buckyalpine · 2 years

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Wait, what?

Bucky x pregnant reader

A/N: My first request ever from @slutforsexyseabass this made me so happy, I LOVE concepts like this. Such a sucker for hidden relationships, I hope I did this justice, I will 100% rewrite this if you imagined it differently. I loved this concept SO much, I wrote this with three different endings. What the hell is wrong with me? Everything :) Cutest concept ever, thank you for this. Please like, comment and reblog <3

Warnings: Angst and fluff!! Pregnancy, swearing Word count: 3.9k (I’m so sorry, i just kept adding each time I imagined the ending differently)

Back story + baby Barnes (sort of part 2?)

I do (again) part 3?

4 months ago

“Are you sure you want this?”

You sighed, having spent the last hour trying to convince Fury to let you transfer to a desk job. Granted, it was an odd request coming from you because you loved your role as an Avenger and you had sworn you wouldn’t leave the job for anything else.

“Is there a specific reason you want to transfer agent?” He gave you a pointed look, clearly insinuating he already knew why you wanted this transfer.

“I-its for the best, at least for a little while” You fiddled with a pen on his desk, looking all around the room, avoiding eye contact. Fury nodded, you knew he knew.

“Alright. I’ll approve it. You understand when you transfer, visits and interactions with your teammates are not permitted under any circumstances. How does 1 year and 9 months sound?”

Your face heated up, as you chuckled, nodding. “It sounds perfect. Thank you” You made your way to the door with your transfer starting immediately.

“Congratulations Agent. To you and Mr. Barnes”

Present

“I miss y/n” Sam poked at the flavorless oatmeal in front of him, annoyed there were no longer fresh muffins to eat first thing in the morning. The baking habit you picked up at 3:00AM when you couldn’t sleep was sorely missed. “I only bothered to get out of bed for those fluffy chocolaty babies”

“Well I lost my venting and shopping partner” Nat huffed; she’d managed to drag Wanda along occasionally but it wasn’t the same. Plus venting was boring when the person can already read your thoughts.

“I know what you’re thinking” Wanda playfully glared at Nat, “I didn’t even get to say bye to her, she just packed her things and left the day she was transferred”

“I didn’t get to see her either, we were on a mission and all I got was a message from Fury saying she’s moving to the upper floor in SHIELD” Tony tried not to show it but he was the most upset over you leaving. You brought the team together and without you there, it felt like a piece was missing.

“Yeah it’s not the same without her” Steve said as the rest of the team hummed in agreement, all sharing little moments they shared with you and how they wished you were back. Well, everyone except Bucky.

“What about you Buck?” Sam looked over to the silent super soldier, who was sipping his black coffee, sans his favorite chocolate chip muffin. “I know you at least miss the muffins, who doesn’t”

“I guess? I ate them if they were there but I can still get out of bed without them bird brain” Bucky went back to his coffee while Tony cocked his head, unable to understand how Bucky didn’t seem to care, but in all fairness, the both of you never really interacted much outside of missions.

“C’mon cyborg, is there not one thing you miss about her?”

Bucky shook his head shrugging, “We talked during missions but I didn’t have any connection with her, we never talked that way”

“Makes sense, you’re always holed away in your room like a hobbit- Ow!” Sam smirked, earning a smack from Steve. “I’m just saying!”

“Well you missed out, she’s a sweet heart” Nat got up from her seat making her way to the gym, “Oh, and I lost my sparring partner!”

***

“Bucky’s down, I need back up on the east side of the base” Steve shouted into the coms, panic rising in his chest, his own energy depleting. The rubble from the destroyed Hydra building was becoming more and more difficult to move as he tried to get to his best friend.

“C’mon Buck,” He panted, throwing off blocks of concrete, seeing the glint of Bucky’s metal arm underneath. The dust clouded his lungs as he heaved, a sudden blast from the sky easily turning the concrete into dust. Tony quickly cleared the area as Sam and Steve pulled Bucky from beneath.

“FRIDAY check his vitals”

“Scanning, vitals unstable, Mr. Barnes has experienced head trauma, 3 fractured ribs, severe blood loss, 3 open wounds to the abdomen. His blood pressure continues to drop”

“Shit, FRIDAY, alert the MedBay to be on standby, 1 hour” Tony and Sam managed to carry Bucky off to the jet and Steve trailed behind, his heart racing having already lost Bucky once. The medical team quickly whisked him away as soon as the jet landed, applying pressure to the wounds and hooking him up to machines, struggling to revive him.

“He’ll be okay” Sam squeezed Steve’s shoulder reassuringly, walking him over to an infirmary to get patched up, unsure of his own words.

***

The team sat around the waiting room, the air laced with anxiety and burning questions as they waited for the doctor to give them an update. They’d all had their fair share of bad injures and near death experiences though Bucky had never been injured this badly thanks to the serum. This time was different. Steve’s head shot up as soon as he heard the surgery doors open, running to the doctor as she approached them.

“How is he?”

“Well, his vitals are stable now. He’s awake and we’ve moved him to the recovery ward but he’s going to have to sit out on missions for a while. The serum will take care of the minor scars and fractures but it’ll take some time for the other injuries. He got lucky you were able to get him here in time”

“Can we see him?” Steve was well aware that patients weren’t allowed visitors unless they were family, especially if they were still just recovering but he felt like his head was going to explode. The team was the closest thing he had to a family. He noticed Dr. Cho’s hesitation, his eyes pleading with her, “Please? Just to know he’s okay?”

Dr. Cho smiled shaking her head, “I told him to rest but he said you’d probably be worried sick. Don’t stay in there too long, he has to rest. The adrenaline is keeping him up for now”

Steve entered the room fist, with the team behind him, breathing a sigh of relief seeing a tired and injured but alive Bucky slightly propped up on the bed. Bucky blinked, his vision fuzzy as his eyes focused on Steve, Sam, Tony and Nat.

“Hey pal” Steve sat in the chair beside the bed, swallowing thickly when he saw the gashes that covered his arm and the bandages that wrapped around his torso. “How do you feel?”

Bucky mustered a small smile, hardly able to speak from exhaustion. “Like shit”

“You look like shit” Sam mused from the side, “Glad you’re okay Buck”

Bucky smirked, nodding, his eyes heavy from the pain medication.

***

You ran down the hall as best as you could, your heart racing, tears blurring your vision. You slowed down for a moment to catch your breath, a hand suddenly coming from behind to support you making you gasp.

“It’s just me; you know you shouldn’t be running right now, here sit down for a moment”

Dr. Cho smiled softly, leading you to a seat, giving you a chance to slow your breathing down. She got up for a moment, coming back with a glass of water and handing you a tissue, letting you sip slowly and dry your tears.

“I-I h-have to see him” You took a few deep breaths, fiddling with the ring on your finger, your voice cracking.

“I know, but you have to take it easy too, stress isn’t good for you right now, I promise everything went well. He’s out of surgery and recovering. He’s got a number of visitors in there, I’m going to see how he’s doing and then I’ll come get you, okay?”

You nodded; your breathing had steadied but your heart continued to race, you wouldn’t be able to relax until you saw him, his blue eyes; home and your safe place.

Dr. Cho entered the recovery room, checking on Bucky’s heart monitor and blood pressure before turning to him. She spoke lowly though she knew it would be useless in a room full of avengers who had enhanced hearing and lip reading capabilities.

“Mr. Barnes, you have one more visitor” Bucky smiled softly, his heart fluttering causing the heart monitor line to jerk up and down, beeping suddenly. “I can ask everyone to leave if you want your privacy?”

Bucky shook his head, everyone there was family. It was time they knew. “No, let them stay”

Steve sat up, wide eyed, watching the heart monitor scream as Bucky’s heart continued to race. Dr. Cho patted his shoulder, hiding a smile as she walked out to get you. “He’s okay”

Steve sat back in his chair breathing out a sigh of relief, sitting back up again as he registered Dr. Cho’s words. “Wait, one more visitor?” He looked at Bucky for an answer but the super soldier looked down at his hands instead, cheeks flushed, hoping to hide the mischievous smile playing on his lips.

“Another visitor, who else is there, you got a secret wife?” Tony smirked, his brow quirked with curiosity. Those closest to Bucky were already there so who else would come to visit him?

“Baby” You walked through the doors, rushing straight for Bucky, gently cupping his face in your hands, placing feather light kisses all over his cheeks. You stroked his forehead as he leaned into your touch, kissing your palm and using the bit of strength he had to pull you to sit on the bed with him.

“Hey babydoll” Bucky looked at you with heart eyes, his hand caressed your face, wiping away some of the tears that rolled down your cheek. “Shh, I’m okay bubba”

“Babydoll? Did ya’ll just hear that, he said babydoll right? That’s y/n, who is babydoll” Sam was sure he’d need the heart monitor next, leaning against the wall for extra support.

“What the hell is happening” Tony’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates unsure if he was experiencing sympathy head trauma, unable to comprehend a thing that was going on.

“I was so worried about you Bucky” You nuzzled against, him breathing in his scent as you placed your hand on his chest, his steady heart beat relaxing your nerves.

“I’m okay baby, I promise” Bucky kissed your forehead before resting it against yours; nothing else mattered in that moment. Except for the fact that everyone was staring at you both. The team stood wide eyed, jaws on the floor as Bucky held you close.

“Can someone please tell me what’s going on here? Did Thanos snap his fingers, did I end up in a different timeline, Tony I told you to let the wizard take care of it- ow!” Tony flicked Sam’s ear, his eyes still glued to you and Bucky. Steve and Nat looked at each other hoping the other would have answers but both looked equally lost.

“Did you…?” Nat whispered, nodding her head towards you both as Steve shook his head, smiling watching his best friend deep in love. Bucky continued to gaze at you, the rest of the world nonexistent when you were with him.

“How’s my little peanut?”

Nat gasped as Bucky brought his hand to your little baby bump, his hand resting on your tummy rubbing small comforting circles to soothe you. You heard a whimper from the corner, as Sam tried to discreetly dab his eyes on Tony’s shirt.

“You okay there bird brain?” Bucky smirked, his hand lacing with yours on top of your tummy, the ring on your finger glinting, catching Tony’s attention.

“Okay, now can you tell us what going on?”

“I guess I should introduce you to the team then?” Bucky looked at you as you nodded, snuggling against him biting your lip nervously.

“How hard did you hit your head Buck, we know y/n” Sam’s voice cracked watching you giggle, your face glowing as you smiled at the team. Bucky squeezed your hand in his, his heart racing again as he spoke.

“This is my wife, y/n Barnes”

The team stood in silence, taking a moment to let Bucky’s words register before they leapt towards you as carefully as they could, making sure they didn’t crush you or Bucky in their gigantic hug. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room as congratulations poured out, each person reluctant to let go of you. Nat squealed at your growing tummy, as you brought her hand to feel the tiny flutters kicking inside.

“I can’t believe you kept this a secret,” Sam shook his head, his eyes glassy as they landed on your baby bump “Is that why you transferred? Also you two have SO much explaining to do. When, how, where, what the hell?! Look at this man; did you ever think you’d see terminator give someone heart eyes?”

Bucky snorted as you shook your head giggling; you figured you’d have to explain yourself at some point. “We started dating 4 years ago actually, a little after he moved into the compound-”

“Hang on, you guys were already dating 4 years ago?”

“Surprised you didn’t know Tony, should have checked your security cameras more often” Bucky snickered wiggling his eyebrows as you rolled your eyes, pinching him.

“Anyway, Bucky didn’t want to tell anyone about us because he was worried Hydra would come after me if they knew. We got married 2 years ago in Louisiana-”

“WAIT, BUCKY, STEVE AND I WENT TO LOUISIANA TOGETHER, when did this happen?!”

Bucky winced, trying to stop the fit of giggles that had taken over as Sam and Steve stared at each other then back to Bucky.

“Y/n came too. I got her to stay at a hotel nearby, you guys insisted on going sightseeing so…” Sam’s eyes widened as he connected the dots, “Yeah, no wonder you were so chipper to stay back home, unbelievable”

“We got married by the lakeside the day before you guys left for New York again. Just me and Bucky” You smiled softly as you remembered the soft white dress you wore, the way Bucky looked in his suit, the soft kiss that sealed you both together.

“Wait, where’s your ring punk” Steve couldn’t place what he was feeling, his emotions running a mile a minute as he pieced together why Bucky had made so much progress over the past few years. Bucky pulled out his dog tags that were set under a few of his things on the table; a simple gold band hung around the chain.

“I moved to a house after I transferred, figured we’d need more space since our little one will be here soon. I planned on coming back a year after the baby’s born. We really wanted to tell you guys but we figured this was the safest option”

The team nodded understandingly, as you stroked Bucky’s hair lulling him to sleep. He rested against you, keeping his hand on your tummy. Steve looked away trying to mask his sniffles as a cough before turning back to you again.

“How did you guys see each other after you moved?”

“Bucky comes by when he goes for his run, sometimes he comes in the middle of the night, especially if I’m baking or weekends, I see him almost every day” You grinned, thinking about how you felt like a rebellious teenager every time Bucky snuck by to steal a kiss or snuggle with you for a while before having to return to the compound.

“Really punk? So that’s where you would go missing? To see y/n?”

Steve cocked an eyebrow as Bucky opened one eye, nodding and smiling softly before nuzzling back to you.

“THAT’S WHY YOU DIDN’T MISS HER MUFFINS!”

Bucky snorted, his eyes remaining closed, “Yeah, you jealous Tweety bird?”

“I’m happy for you both, I haven’t seen him happier in years and it makes sense now” Steve held you, kissing your head, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt this happy.

“I can’t believe you guys managed to keep this under wraps” Tony shook his head, his mind wandering to expanding your old room to accommodate a baby room as well.

“Well Fury knows and Dr. Cho. I really only trust her so I came to her as soon as I found out, being a super solider baby and all” “Fury doesn’t count he knows everything, probably knows when Capsicle took a shit last”

“Language”

You giggled, looking down at Bucky who was snoring softly into your chest his hand still wrapped protectively around your belly. The team whispered their goodbyes, giving you gentle hugs, allowing you to have some privacy. You closed your eyes, as you began to fall asleep with the one person who would do anything to keep you safe; your home and safe place.

Alternate ending ii

The team had made their way to the MedBay after Bucky had been moved from surgery. Steve swallowed thickly as he saw Dr. Cho, hoping his best friend would be okay.

“Can we see him now?”

“Mr. Barnes has a visitor, just family is allowed right now Mr. Rogers” She smiled sympathetically as Steve’s face dropped “In a few minutes I’ll check on him. If he’s okay, you can visit him for a while but he has to rest”

Steve silently nodded, his brows furrowed as he wondered who else would visit Bucky. As far as he knew, the team was the closest thing to family Bucky had left.

“Family? Did she just say family?” Sam looked over to an equally confused Tony as they sat down in the waiting room.

“Bucky has family?” “Not that I know of…” Steve continued to wrack his brain as the minutes passed, his anxiety growing more and more. He glared at the door hoping whoever had gone to see Bucky would leave. Half an hour passed before Dr. Cho went back to the room to check on Bucky and immediately making her way over to where the team sat. “Mr. Barnes will see you now”

The team made their way through the doors, freezing as soon as they stepped in. Bucky was snuggled against you, his eyes heavy with sleep, his hand wrapped protectively around your little baby bump, hardly registering others had entered the room. You smiled brightly at them as their shocked expressions melted into tears of happiness having not seen you for months.

“Oh my God. Y/n!?” Nat pulled you into a tight hug, followed by the rest of the team. Steve’s arms lingered around you as he kissed your head, holding onto you extra tight.

“It’s good to see you. We missed you so much” His voice cracked as he spoke, looking down at your growing tummy and the ring that sat on your left hand. “You’re…?” You grinned, nodding, brining Steve’s hand to where the baby kicked, causing his eyes to brim with tears.

“I thought you came here to see me punk” Bucky rasped, smirking at Steve’s poor job at wiping the tears that were rolling down his cheek.

“Shut up jerk. You’re married?”

Bucky nodded, kissing your cheek, rubbing your belly, looking at you with love and adoration “Meet my beautiful wife, y/n Barnes”

“Who would have thought terminator would be the first one married. Unless any of you are also hiding a secret spouse I need to know about?” Tony eyed Steve, Sam and Nat suspiciously before smiling back at you and Bucky.

“You two have SO much explaining to do”

Alternate ending iii

The team sat together around the waiting room, the air laced with anxiety and burning questions. Tony, Nat and Sam sat in the lounge chairs as Steve paced around the hall waiting for the doctor to emerge from the surgery room. A familiar voice speaking to a nurse down the hall caught the team’s attention.

“Oh my God y/n?!” Tony shot up, wide eyed as he saw you walk down the hall, towards them. You grinned as Tony pulled you into a tight hug, nearly lifting you off the floor in the process.

“Hey Tones” You smiled, immediately engulfed by another pair of strong arms before you could say anything else.

“Um, excuse me, you went missing without saying good bye, and you left me muffinless, I think I deserve a hug at least” You giggled wrapping your arms around Sam as he kissed your head “Seriously y/n, we missed you”

“I missed you to- “Hey! Me next!” Nat yanked off Sam, squeezing you, “I missed you babe”. You turned around to Steve who pulled you into a giant bear hug, his warm arms holding you securely.

“You really have no idea how much we missed you”

“-and the muffins!”

“Seriously Sam?”

Steve felt your firm tummy press against him, pulling away from you for a moment; his eyes landing on your little baby bump “Wait! Are you…?”

You grinned, nodding as your hand cradled your tummy, suddenly squished again as the team enveloped you in a giant group hug. Tony held you for a second longer, before letting you go.

“Is that why you left for a desk job?”

You nodded, as Steve led you to the couch to sit, “Yeah, figured it’d be safer that way, I was planning on coming back after a year”

“Makes sense. Wish you told us though, y’know I would have added a new floor for you and the baby-” Tony’s eyes snapped to you widening, “Hang on, whose the father?!”

You giggled as your hand caressed your tummy feeling little flutters. “Oh my God, is that a ring on your finger?!” Your face heated up as you nodded, watching Sam bounce in his seat and Nat grab your hand to inspect the ring.

“Yup, that would be a ring on my finger”

“Y-you’re married?!”

“I am”

You laughed as the questions began to pour in all at once; Sam pulled out his phone to write down every single question he had for you so he wouldn’t forget.

“Okay, okay, first things first, what are you even doing here; did you come in for a checkup?”

Dr. Cho emerged through the doors before you had a chance to answer. “Mrs. Barnes? He’s awake now; you can go and see him”

The team looked at each other exchanging confused expressions, “Who the hell is Mrs. Bar- OH MY GOD!”

Tony and Sam’s jaws dropped as you got up from your seat, making your way to Bucky’s room. Nat smacked Steve as he sat wide eyed, flicking his own ear wondering if he was hearing things or maybe his old age was finally catching up to him.

“I- what? When?!” Tony sputtered, looking at the door and back at everyone equally confused faced. “Mrs. Barnes?!”

They sat in shock for a few moments, before getting up and knocking on the door.

“Come in”

Bucky smiled sheepishly as you kissed his temple, resting against him; his hand splayed across your tummy.

“Guess I should introduce you guys then, everyone, this is my wife y/n Barnes”

Part 2 - back story + baby barnes

I do (again) wedding time!

Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed! Tags: @glxwingrxse @hungryyeyes @sebsgirl71479 @beabutterfly987 @teambarnes72 @witchy-whore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan

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m00nsbaby · 10 months

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Therapy.

(Marc Spector x F/Reader.) Warnings - Tags: Mentions of abuse, violence. Marc is kinda mean. (until he isn’t lol) Angst, but not that bad. Mentions of Steven. Word count: 960. Summary: The change was so sudden that you started to question if there was someone within it that you weren't counting on. That, or your best friend had been replaced with a highly unconvincing double. Because for exactly 4 months now, Marc Spector had been nothing but smiles.

You realized on an ordinary Thursday. Both of you were comically bumping into each other in Steven Grant's small kitchen, but he was two moves away from losing his patience.

You insisted on taking care of things yourself, and he refused, so stubborn that you had no other choice. Now, when your bodies collided and the plate in your hands went flying through the air, crashing loudly onto the floor, you stood there in complete silence, staring at him.

It was just a few seconds before your physical memory took over, expelling all the air from your lungs in a sigh. Here it comes.

You wondered what it would be this time. "I told you so" or "Look what you did," perhaps just a "Move" to get you out of the way and handle it himself without your interference.

"I'm so sorry." That's what came out of his mouth.

And you turned to him as if you had heard the filthiest word he could have uttered.

"Ah?"

"I'm sorry," he repeated as he bent down to pick up some of the broken pieces of the plate. Dark curls falling on his face as he squinted to locate every ceramic shard on the floor.

And that was your strangest interaction with Marc. Even after he talked to you about Khonshu, or about Steven.

Marc Spector has all those little and big points that people refer to when they ask you to promise to stay above everything else.

Sometimes it's the shouts. What was so striking about the whole situation with the plate was that you expected Marc to shout at you as he always did when he lost his patience, regurgitating the words his mother once said to him.

You had figured it out a long time ago, but you would never tell him what he was doing.

Other times, it's avoidance. Another thing you discovered over time is that Marc was engrossed in the idea of not allowing himself to feel any kind of affection for anyone. Not after Layla.

Romantic or not, he wouldn't allow himself to have his heart broken again. He couldn't bear the thought that someone would make him believe he wasn't as broken as he thought, only to prove him wrong.

Even after so many years together, his mind plays tricks on him. Sometimes he wakes up and decides that he no longer wants you in his life because the fact that you're his first thought upon waking up is terrifying. Or because he found himself smiling while responding to your silly 23rd message of the day, or because there isn't a spot in his house that isn't marked by you and how careless you are with your things.

So, he stops responding. He stops visiting. He stops existing. At first, it was worse, though. He disappeared enough to make you believe he was dead. Since then, the duration of these periods without him has decreased. The last time was just before this change, a week without any signs until he showed up at your door in the early hours of the morning with a bloodied t-shirt and a bruise on his eye.

The arguments, the alcoholism, that habit of blaming you because he can't stay away from you and accusing you of putting yourself in danger by being his friend as long as he continues to work with Khonshu, the number of times you've had to promise him that his alters are not more important to you than he is, the constant insecurity, his inability to communicate in a healthy way, and the fact that he never lets you use the blue plastic cup from his cupboard.

But you never wavered in your decision to stay. He never hurt your feelings; he just took care of filling a little jar inside you every time you realized how worried you should be about him.

And for the first time in years, you're seeing a favorable change in him that makes you feel good.

"You have to tell her, Marc." Steven's desperate voice echoes in his head, his own reflection doesn't look much better. Worry is imprinted on every part of his body.

That's what's been going on behind the scenes for the past 4 months.

"Why, huh?" Marc's aggressive tone is a good reminder that they are two different people, even though they share the same body. "So she can leave? Like Layla did, or like Mom did." The latter part is figurative; he was the one who left.

"She can help you."

"Steven." The mercenary runs his hand over his face a couple of times in despair. And it's not the other's fault for not seeing things his way. After all, even though they were as transparent as possible with each other, Steven would never know the emotional burden Marc carries. "Do you know how terrible it is to burden her with that responsibility? I don't want to drag her down with me."

And finally, the other falls silent. He understands.

Another gulp of his whiskey, and he's finished the bottle. "Well, I feel better." He thinks to himself now that the alcohol has clouded his mind enough to forget why he was crying in the first place.

That was his therapy, and it was proving to be quite fruitful from his perspective. Of course, on the days he wasn't with you, he would drink until he couldn't remember or until a burst of anger made him break a few things. Sometimes a lamp, sometimes his wrist from hitting the wall in an ill-proportioned strike.

But ever since he started lying to you, everything felt better in some way.

It was better until we reached exactly 5 months.

Only one thing had been treated suspiciously seriously with this radical change in Marc, and that was that visits were always scheduled. With a text message, a phone call. In fact, if you could send a carrier pigeon, Marc wouldn't even question why; he would just appreciate being informed that you were about to arrive at his apartment.

"Marc?" Your voice sounded on the other side of the door after two small knocks.

The bottle fell from his hands in a thunderous crash. His first reaction was to check his phone to make sure he hadn't missed any of your messages.

Nothing.

"I have Steven's book, the one he lent me." Somehow, your voice tensed his whole body, an anger he hadn't felt in... Well, not that long, maybe last week. "Can you let me in?"

No, he couldn't.

He felt like a mouse trapped in a glue trap; his feet wouldn't respond. How would he deal with your worried expression when you realized that tears were streaming down his cheeks and the smell of alcohol permeated his small apartment?

He chose not to open the door. He would stand there, waiting for you to leave.

Although the other occupant in his body disagreed, and he would let him know.

A few seconds later, and precisely the sight he didn't want was in front of him.

You, with your eyes fixed on him. Your brow furrowed and the small pout that formed on your lips whenever you felt worried.

Steven had given him the push. Although he almost vomited as he relived the sensation of the first few times they switched without realizing it, combined with the alcohol, of course.

"Marc?" You whispered his name for the fifth time, and his stomach churned even more.

"What are you doing here?"

"I told you, the book." You waved it in your hand without taking your eyes off Marc, who seemed seconds away from breaking down in tears.

"You didn't let me know." His voice cracked. "Leave."

Well, there was the Marc Spector you knew.

"Leave, go." He placed both hands on your shoulders, pushing you back enough to be able to close the door. And of course, the Moon Knight had skills, but being drunk wasn't much of a help.

It wasn't difficult for you to slip under his arm and enter the apartment again.

The slam of the door made you flinch, but once again, he would have to drag you himself if he wanted to keep you away from him at a time like this.

"Tell me what's wrong, Marc. Just tell me, I can help you."

"You can't!" Steven's look on the other side only irritated him further. He looked at him as if he believed Marc capable of hurting you, and surely he did. "You can't, you can't help me." His voice broke again, and the tears finally started to flow down his face.

You raised your hand slowly, intending to touch his cheek, but he took a step back.

With fear.

"I won't hurt you." That's all that came out of your mouth. /What's it like living to fight when every blow leads you to a traumatic memory that marked your entire life?/ You think as you see him so vulnerable.

Because Marc doesn't think about the damage Khonshu has caused to his body over and over again. He thinks about his mother's angry gaze and the burning pain of the blows full of contempt, which hurt a thousand times more than those from a stranger in battle.

He takes a step closer to you, just enough for you to rest a hand on his cheek, your thumb tracing his jawline as delicately as you can. His eyes close, and his head tilts to seek your touch.

"We're best friends, Marc." He furrows his brow at your words but keeps his eyes closed. "You can trust me."

"Don't leave." His voice is so soft that for a moment, you have to check if you're dealing with Steven. It's not difficult; Marc's body is always tense.

It breaks your heart to see how unstable he is when these things happen. In seconds, he changes his mind, and you don't know if it's just his brain or the alcohol in his system.

"Don't leave, please." He repeats with a sob.

"You have to tell me what's going on." You don't want to pressure him. You never have, but you have no way of comforting him if you don't know what's happening.

His arms slowly extend, encircling your waist as he holds you tightly against his body. He's begging for a hug, and you give it to him without hesitation, even though you feel the air escaping from your lungs as he tightens his grip.

Marc has a moment to realize how bad things are with you. His body is familiar to you; Steven's love language is physical—he hugs you, holds your hand, plays with your hair, and other things. But for Marc, your body is uncharted territory.

He doesn't know that his arms seem to be made for embracing you, or that your shampoo smells like honey and it's easy to catch a whiff of it by breaking the distance a little.

"You can't go." This time he whispers as his breathing seems to calm down. "Don't go, and I'll be fine."

It's a lie, and both of you know it.

Was it time to confront it?

"Marc, I can't." This time your voice comes out almost inaudible.

His arms tighten around you; he doesn't want to let you go. But you don't mean that.

"I can't end this." He hates how coherent you are. How stable. "I wish I could take away all your pain. Truly." For the first time, you feel his body relax as your fingers run through his messy curls. "But I can't stop this. You need to understand that."

He sniffles, and you wonder if he's still crying. He won't let you see his face while you're in his arms, but he nods.

"I couldn't wish for anything more than for you to be happy." His weight starts to wear you out, but you won't complain out loud. "I'm worried." It's good for him to hear it rather than having to decipher the expression he has memorized. "I'm so worried. You need help."

Marc nods again, and the hug starts to loosen.

"I love you."

This time, it's your body that tenses.

"What?"

"I love you." And for the first time in a long time, when Marc confesses his feelings, there are no tormenting memories behind him or ghosts from his past telling him, /You know what's going to happen./

Maybe this is a new memory. A good one, in some way.

"I've loved you since you broke my favorite mug." Marc tries to laugh; it's one of those times when you exhale loudly through your nose accompanied by a broken smile.

You remember it well. It was one of those times of "Look what you did." Never in a million years would you have imagined that your best friend would treasure that memory in his mind.

You finally lift your head; you want to confront him, but his lips are on yours before you can react.

Automatically, you close your eyes, savoring the taste of tequila and the mint of the stupid chewing gum he uses to calm his anxiety. Your fingers still in his curls, messing them up even more as he arches your back again with the force he uses to hold your waist in his arms.

"I love you," you mumble against his lips as best you can. It feels like lifting a thousand bricks off your back.

"It's too early," you complained against his chest. You could feel him scoff by the way your head moved. It made you laugh too. "Baby, it's already 12 PM," you could hear his smile as he spoke, and you hugged him closer to you. "No nightmares?" "Not at all. I dreamt about us having the cutest puppy ever," he said, marking three months without nightmares."I really have to get up." "What time is your appointment?" "It's in about three hours, so move," he laughed again as he finally pushed you out of his arms, making you complain one last time. "We should celebrate." There was no hint of joking in your voice, just a sincere smile as you watched him get up and search for his shirt somewhere on the floor. "One year in therapy is a big deal." "Do you think they make 'I'm glad you don't cry until you fall asleep anymore' cakes?" He pressed his lips together as he stared at you, trying not to laugh. "You are an idiot, you know that, right?" You were definitely going to bake that cake and decorate it with pink frosting while he wasn't at home. "Yes, I know." He leaned in a little, enough to rest his forehead against yours. "I love you." The words rolled off his tongue easily. It had been like that for a while now. "I love you," you whispered back, kissing his lips briefly. "Now move, or you're going to be late."

#marc spector #marc spector x you #marc spector x reader #Moon Knight #Moon System #moon boys #moon knight x reader #marvel #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #oscar isaac x you #steven grant #steven grant x you #steven grant x reader #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #moon system x reader #moon boys x reader

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m-arkmywords · 1 year

Text

James Joint

pairing: mark x fem!reader

genre: fluff, smut, friends to lovers, stoner mark, established relationship, not suitable for minors

word count: 1,152

Summary: a summer afternoon spent with your boyfriend of four months as you slowly fall more in love

“don’t say a word.. just come over and lie here with me..” John Mayer blared through the speakers as you sat on your boyfriend’s lap, trying to roll a joint. He swayed you both to the music. Your back into the comfort of his chest.

The room was lit bright from the golden hour, as the sun was setting. The mixture of warm sun rays and Mark's hands caressing your thighs under your dress made you highly content.

“whatchu know about John Mayer!?” He giggled into your ear and leaving a kiss behind it.

“Yes Mark.. you put me on..” You rolled your eyes as you sealed the joint with your tongue.

“DONE!” You admire your work. “You like?!” You ask for your boyfriend’s approval, after him teaching you to roll for weeks now.

“Yes baby, well done” he handed you a lighter with a grin, as you turned to face him.

Maybe it was the first hot day of the year, maybe it was your boyfriends hands desperately caressing your body or maybe it was the feel of his heart beating against your back. Something was in the air this evening.

It has been exactly 4 months since you and Mark have made things official. Each day spent with him felt like coming home after a long day. It all started with him asking you, if you had wanted a brownie from his work place one day. Then he asked again. Then again, the next day and the day after that.. Some days you didn’t even want a brownie but he continued to ask and you kept saying yes.

He would come over almost every day with the brownie and you both spent hours just talking and laughing. Until one day you just kissed him. Shocked at first, he pulled back. “Are you sure?” He asked.

“If we do this, you know we can never go back to being friends.. you know that right?” Sincerity in his voice.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything else” you pulled him back into a kiss and rest was history.

Fast forward to four months, here, now in this room. You were content. This relationship felt like a big sigh of relief from the intensity of the world and you were happy.

“I wanna try something” he said taking in a drag. “Open your mouth” his lips hovered over yours as you tried your hardest not to melt into his mouth. He chuckled, “so needy baby.. patience.”

You opened your mouth and fought against your instinct to kiss him. He blew the smoke into your mouth and you inhaled. “Good girl.. just like that” his voice now, lower and raspier.

He continued to do this a couple times before handing you the joint and picking you up, walking over to the bed. Laying you on the bed, he hovered over you. Taking in your features and your frame before granting you the kiss you so desperately wanted. The taste of smoke, mixed with his sweet tongue sent tingles down your spine. You got so lost into the kiss, as if the whole world had melted with your lips connecting. Nothing else mattered.

“I want you to keep smoking” he looked into your eyes before placing soft kisses along your jaw, down to your neck whilst his hand grazed his fingers along your nipple.

Weed made your senses work at a 1000 and you unfolded under his touch. It felt like electric shocks across your body as your underwear pooled with arousal. He slowly pulled your dress down to free your breasts, taking one in his mouth and continuing playing with the other nipple. It was getting hard to focus on the joint as your head was close to empty.

Noticing your reaction, he chuckled to himself. “Don’t go weak on me now baby” leaving kisses across your stomach as he made his way between your legs. Moving your panties to the side, you saw his jaw drop and eyes dark, clouded with lust. He ran his fingers across your folds. “Fuck..”

“So wet for me” he said in awe of you. Mark began to leave wet kisses along your inner thighs, making you ache for his mouth every second. He looked so majestic as the sun light hit the side of his face. Highlighting one side of his body and leaving the other side in shade. This moment felt like a painting. Unable to form words, you moaned. He licked a strip across from the bottom of your pussy to the top until he reached the clit.

“baby.. im under your curse” the song now playing Curse by The Internet from your playlist. Mark was taking his time, giving attention to your clit making your breath get caught at the back of your throat. “ba.. I..” unable to form words you let out a moan. “Mm?” He hummed against your heat, making your mind go crazy from the vibration. He looked up at you and stopped. “Yes baby?” His face glistened from your arousal in the sun. His smile looked beautiful as ever.

“I love this song” you finally formed a coherent sentence. “It reminds me of you” you blushed, feeling your face get hot. He inserted two fingers inside you.

“Yeah?” His face soft but eyes determine to make you reach climax. He slowly started to pump his fingers inside you. “Is this our song?”

You felt frustration from the absence of his tongue on your clit and pushed his head back down. “Yes..”

He started sucking on your clit with fingers still inside you, making you see stars. He stopped and looked up again. Now, teasing you. “So what part of the song is your favourite?” He asked, furrowing his brows as if he’s genuinely curious.

“Shhhh” you pushed his head back down again.

“Oh you want me to shut the fuck up?” He sucked on your clit one more time, gaining another moan from you. “You want me to shut up and eat your pussy baby?”

These words went straight to your brain making your synapsis short circuit. “Uh huh” last coherent response he got from you before he grabbed your thigh to pull you closer and made circles around your clit. Fingers finding your g-spot at the same time, making you moan uncontrollably.

“Is this the spot baby?” He giggled against your heat, no chance of slowing down. “Cum for me baby” and with that, you released all over his hands and face. Joint lost, somewhere in the abyss. Only his name and moans rolled off your tongue as he let you ride your high. He came up smiling to your face, evidently proud of himself. You grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a messy kiss, your spit and arousal mixing into one, making you dizzy.

“I love tasting myself on you” you moaned into the kiss.

#mark lee #mark lee fanfic #mark lee fluff #mark lee smut #nct smut #nct fluff #mark lee x fem reader #mark nct #nct dream #nct 127

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fujiihime · 2 years

Text

Joseph Quinn's Other Characters Fics (Series/One-Shots) - I

I made a list of currently reading and recommended fics for Joseph Quinn's other characters here on Tumblr. All were beautifully written by amazing writers. These writers are incredible and full of brilliant ideas, so please visit their blogs and check all of their works. Happy reading! Don’t forget to comment and reblog their works. You may also reblog this list to share with everyone/blog mutuals. Thank you! (For 18+, MDNI)

Prince Paul (Catherine the Great)

Pick Your Poison | 2 | 3 by @punk-in-docs

Keep Watch Over The Door Of My Lips

And The Stars Sighed In Unison

Lay No Claim | 2 by @the-suburban-blues

It Has Always Been You by @dingusfreakhxrrington

With Me Now by @the-suburban-blues

Our Duty & Birth Of 1st Child by @emmywrites-blog

Deserve Love Series | 2 | 3 | 4 | ED by @boohoo-clo

Thank You by @m7nson

Out Of The Dark by @creme-bruhlee

My Darling by @helpwhatsthis

Childish by @badmirvcle

Eye for An Eye by @rocknrollbabe14

Ralph (TimeWasters)

At Last | 2 | 3 | 4 | ED by @luv4fandoms

It's My Party And I'll Cry If I Want To by @brighteyedbushybrowed

Please & Darling by @no-mercy-bby

Wizard by @creme-bruhlee

To Be Loved by @stevies-corner

A Special Present For A Special Boy by @littlelioncub43

Who's A Good Boy? | 2 @mypoisonedvine

Baby Boy by @historygeekfics

Show Me

Untitled by @thefreak-thebanished

A Life Well Loved by @eddiemunsonthebanished

Words Of Advice | 2 by @ladyfogg

My Sweet Boy by @forays-into-fiction

A Rivalry For The Ages by @ladybug0095

The Dance by @stinkysam

Tell the World by @x-its-funnier-in-enochian-x

Busy Streets And Busy Lives @thefreak-thebanished

Kinktober: Day13 - Face Sitting by @xcatnapsx

My Way Of Life by @ @sadboyeddie

Tom Grant (Make Up)

You Got Me by @mypoisonedvine

WindSwept by @ladyfogg

Lemons Lollipops and Salt | 2(WIP) by @cherrielip

Adore You by @inklore

5 Minutes In Heaven

A Couple Hours by @luvsouya

Little Thief by @dingusfreakhxrrington

Thunder by @loves0phelia

Maybe It's A Good Thing? | 2 by @dingusfreakhxrrington

Prompts | 2 | 3 by @ladylannisterxo

Welcome Home by @mypoisonedvine

Untitled by @ginger-mews

New Girl | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 by @xcatnapsx

I'm Home by @bluesfortheredj

Cheer Up by @x-its-funnier-in-enochian-x

Untitled | Prompt by @joemazzmatazz

I'm Not Her by @munsonxmayhem

Smashed by @joekeeryswife

Rebound | 2 | 3 by @munsonxmayhem

Another Sad Love Song by @rocknrollbabe14

Kisses from Cupid by @hawkinsbanishedhero

His Past And His Future by @munsonxmayhem

New Angel by @fxckadoodledoomunson

Mr. And Mrs. Grant by @munsonxmayhem

Tom Grant Series by @wheels-of-despair

Leonard Bast (Howards End)

A Friend Of A Friend by @the-suburban-blues

All I'd Ever Need @the-suburban-blues

As Stubborn As A Mule by @writing-fanics

Arthur Havisham (Dickensian)

The Arrangement | 2 | 3 (x M!Reader) by @ladyfogg

One Of Those Nights (x M!Reader) by @alex-drinks-blood

Untitled (xPlatonicF!Reader) by @dingusfreakhxrrington

Letters (x M!Reader) by @axailslink

Million Dollar Man (x F!Reader) by @lvlycheri

Not All Who Wander Are Lost (x M!Reader) by @lvlycheri

It's Okay (xPlatonicF!Reader) by @x-its-funnier-in-enochian-x

Please Don't Go (x M!Reader)

Untitled (x M!Reader) by @alex-drinks-blood

Maybe Someday (x M!Reader) by @casettewrecked

Untitled (x M!Reader) by @razzledazzlestuff

Can The Past Save The Future (x M!Reader) by @stardancerluv

Koner (Game of Thrones)

Only You | 2 | 3 by @creme-bruhlee

Night Watch by @historygeekfics

A Not-So-Knight and His Spellcaster | 2(WIP) by @brighteyedbushybrowed

Winter Nights | 2 by @ercklln

A Winter's Tale by @lyricswrittenbythesecretdreamer

Dark Koner (Untitled) by @mypoisonedvine

Note: I hope a lot more writers will write stories for these characters and I'm sure we're all excited to read more stories about it.

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layla4567 · 9 months

Text

I'm just a librarian ✿

Steven Grant/Marc Spector x Fem!Reader

Summary: You work in a library in the middle of London, you get paid well and you love your little reading space surrounded by books that rise to the highest ceiling. But one day your normality will be turned upside down when a guy comes looking for some books on Egyptian history.

A/N: Ok first of all I must say that this idea arose from a little dream I had (and I also wanted to use the image from the movie The Mummy, I mean, just look at her, she is beautiful, she looks like Belle) second, I don't know if this will have more parts the truth is I'm not good at making long stories because then I leave them unfinished or I run out of ideas so, yes, I'm building this as I go along, sorry.

Part 2

And here I am once again, sitting behind the counter where you could see an old green lamp, a couple of books stacked one on top of the other, a typewriter and a little badge where you could read my name. With my legs crossed I moved my airborne foot rhythmically back and forth following a silent melody while my face rested lazily on my hand. My view was always directed towards the large windows that were near the line where the roof began. They were in the shape of a half circle and had a nice drawing similar to a stained glass window through which the sunlight passed in a warm way.

I loved being around libraries just for the sake of being a bookworm. I could spend hours reading old books sitting in a comfortable chair enjoying the silence without realizing it. But it was kind of boring to sit and wait for people to arrive so that you could help them with whatever they needed. I had already finished arranging the books with the help of the ladder, I loved doing it, it was fun to slide from one side to the other, it was almost like skating.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't realize someone had entered the library until they were in front of me so I gave a little jump in my seat.

"Oh so sorry! did I scare you? It wasn't my intention"

The person who addressed me was a very polite and kind middle-aged man, he had an innocent look in those pretty dark eyes he had. He was wearing a jean jacket and underneath was a white shirt, he was also wearing khaki pants and had a brown shoulder strap on one side.

"Don't worry, It's okay, I was just thinking, can I help you with something?"

I could not stop seeing his eyes, his look gave off a peculiar innocence glow, I could sense a genuinely beautiful aura like that of a child

"Well, yes. I was looking for books on Egyptian history, you know, gods and pharaohs, myths, pyramids, etc."

Every time he spoke his face would light up with enthusiasm, it was admirable to see

"Sure, we have several. Follow me please"- I said while my smile deepened

I led him through the aisles looking for the "Ancient Egypt" section by the gigantic shelves. The man meekly followed me like a lap dog without taking his eyes off me as he clung to his backpack. When we had reached the section, I took out 4 books, stacking them one on top of the other and numbering them as I handed them over to him.

" "History of Egypt", "Gods and mythologies", "Encyclopedia of the pyramids" and "The 10 most famous figures of ancient Egypt" And remember to return everything within 15 days "

I piled the books in the arms of that man who tried with effort to hold them since they were quite large and hardcover while I raised a finger and recited the prayer from memory. Even though the books were about to fall out of his hands, the man looked from the books to me with a beaming smile.

"Of course, yes, miss, I will do so. Thank you very much for your help"

I smiled generously at the man's good manners and walked him to my desk to finish the paperwork. I sat as the middle-aged man patiently watched me with his books in his arms like a child waiting for his Christmas present.

"Ok, I will give you a paper with the exact date where you must return the books along with our address, I would only need to know your name to write it down please"- I looked at him expectantly

"Steven Grant, Steven with a V"

I couldn't help but laugh at the clarification as if I didn't know how to write his name

"I clarify it just in case. A lot of people always misspell it, sometimes they call me Stephen. But surely you wrote it well, you seem to have nice handwriting hehe"

Steven giggled nervously as I smirked in amusement. What a singular man that Steven was

"No problem, what a nice name you have"- I smiled warmly

Steven got more nervous and his face begins to take on a cute reddish color as he stuttered and mumbled a thank you.

"By the way, my name is Y/n"

I told him, pointing with a fingernail to my badge that was resting on the desk. He looked at it for a while and smiled

"Now I won't forget"

And with one free hand he gave me a childish wave as he uttered a sweet "Laters gators" and headed for the exit. With one elbow on the table and my hand resting on my cheek, I watched him until he disappeared through the door.

"Steven.."

I pronounced his name slowly delighting myself with the syllables, it was sweet as honey and resonant as a bell. I was wondering if I would see him around here more often. I sighed with a lopsided smile and went back to staring at the stained glass windows waiting for someone else to come and help them.

The days passed and I didn't hear from Steven, he hadn't returned the books within the agreed period and I was beginning to worry. He supposed that this man was a little distracted or had forgotten or was busy with something important, anyway it was very common for people not to return the books on time and to be a little late. My head was full of thoughts hoping nothing bad happened to Steven and hoping to see him again when someone stormed through the library entrance.

"I'm really sorry!! I got there as fast as I could, apparently I fell asleep and woke up in a place full of sand. I have a sleep disorder, I'm sorry"

Steven was talking fast, spitting out the words like a machine gun, he looked agitated and his hair was messy. And on his face you could see the nervousness and concern. I tried to reassure him

"Steven, Steven calm down, it's okay. I get it, you don't have to apologize."

I grabbed his hand and squeezed it hard trying to provide warmth and protection. Steven giggled nervously and his cheeks turned pink, it was adorable.

"Oh by the way, here are the books"

Steven took out of his bag the books in perfect condition that I had given him. At least he was a man of his word

"Thank you very much Steven, do you want any other books?"

"Well actually yes, if it's not a bother, wouldn't you have one that talks about the moon god Khonsu?"-he said something nervous

I laughed in amusement

"Of course! We have many books on Egyptian gods, take the ones you want"-I said tenderly

Steven for some reason gave me a strange feeling, a maternal need to protect him, he looked so helpless at times. I can't even imagine how chaotic his life must be

"You know something? Why don't I buy you a coffee? I'll give you the new books and then we can hang out and chat, I have a break in 15 minutes."

Apparently Steven didn't expect that so he got even more red.

"I-Is it some kind of date?"

"If you want to see it that way, yes"

Steven smiled like a kid in a toy store and followed me back to the bookshelves. After giving him everything he needed, he waited for me at the entrance of the library like a true gentleman. I left my position in charge of my partner Selma who answered me with a grunt and left with Steven towards the nearest cafeteria.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _

We sat at a table close to the street. The cafeteria was decorated with flowers and vines, it was my favorite, it made it look Parisian. We both ordered a simple latte and to eat I ordered a croissant with chocolate and he asked for a kind of vegan burrito, then he explained to me that he doesn't eat anything that comes from animals.

"Well Steven tell me something about yourself, do you have a job?"

"Yes, I'm working in a gift shop at the British Museum. But I would really love to be the one who makes the guides"

"Really? Amazing! who'd say? You are a museum and history enthusiast and I am a bookworm willing to provide you with all the information you want."

We both laughed happily forgetting what was happening around us. Steven's laugh was like sweet nectar to my ears that made all my worries disappear. Except for one that was still on my mind

"Wait a second, how come you woke up in a place full of sand? Where exactly?"

"I have no idea, I wish I knew. But it's not the first time it's happened to me, one day I woke up on top of Everest"

Steven started laughing downplaying it and I laughed too but with less enthusiasm. I was worried about him.

"Well I think I should go back to my work, thanks for everything I really needed to talk to someone and distract myself"

I looked at Steven tenderly, thinking that I was probably the only person he could talk to broke my heart.

"Anytime Steven. Anyway, I also have to go back to work, the time flies by when you talk"

I left a tip on the table and was about to go to the library when Steven stopped me with a question.

"Would you like to visit me one day at the museum? It's that I always visit you...-"

"I'd love to"

We said goodbye with a smile as if we were lifelong friends and each one went their own way to continue with their work on that beautiful afternoon in London.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Sorry if it was boring and there wasn't much interaction with Steven but this is just the first part of the story

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professoruber · 4 months

Text

Incorrect Quotes: Bruce giving money to the Bat-Family | Part 2

Previous Part: Link | Next Part: Link

Stephanie: You're trying to give me... money?

Bruce: Yes. With your growing responsibilities, I've decided you should receive a fund to help support your vigilante activities.

Stephanie: ...Is this because you're finally feeling guilt for all the times you've treated me unfairly?

Bruce: What? Name one time I hav-

Stephanie: Ahem. <Clears throats and takes out a long lost which rolls out to the edge of the room, title; 'All the times Batman has wrongfully wronged the amazing Stephanie Brown'>

Stephanie: It all began long ago when we first met, and you sicked your unreasonably handsome sidekick onto my innocent self.

Bruce: <;Tired sigh> Is this really necessary Steph?

Stephanie: Absolutely. In every conceivable way. Now where was I? Oh right, all the times you've wronged me.

Bruce: How long is this going to take?

Stephanie: At least all day, might have to come back tomorrow though.

Bruce: ...I'm leaving.

Alfred: Now, now, Master Bruce. It's little Miss Stephanie has put quite a bit of effort into her itinerary of grievances against you. The two of you have had an undoubtedly rather turbulent working relationship, perhaps granting her some catharise will do her some good.

Bruce: Ugh...

Stephanie: Thanks Alfred! Now back to the list... oh right, the first of many times you tried to order me to quit like you're the Bat-God of Vigilantes.

Bruce: If I double your budget will you just skip to the end?

Stephanie: No way, Bruce. This is long overdue.

<4 Hours Later>

Stephanie: Do you know how weird it was dating a dude I didn't even know the name of because you didn't let him? FYI Alvin Draper is almost as bad as Drake when it comes to Tim's aliases. I mean Draper? Way to be on the nose that it's a fake identity. The Alvin wasn't the best way to disguise his rich kid status either.

Stephanie: Seriously! I was like the only Robin until Damian who had actual prior experience you %(#$@!

Stephanie: ...and last but definitely not least, you dissed my favourite jacket. Uncool dude.

Bruce: Are you finally done?

Stephanie: ...

Stephanie: I guess I am. Man, that felt good to get that off my chest.

Bruce: While most of those were clearly just petty complaints you added solely for the purpose of making the list longer for dramatic effect, I do admit you have some... legitimate grievances.

Stephanie: Wait? You're... actually admitting that?

Bruce: Yes. And that's all I'll say today.

Stephanie: Works for me! I'll let you go brood on your totally unfair treatment of me... I'm still getting the funds right, by the way?

Bruce: ...

Stephanie: ...Bruce?

Bruce: Fine. But only because Alfred will stare at me disapprovingly if I back out now.

Stephanie: Yes! <Heads off to get suited up for her patrol>

Bruce: And Steph?

Stephanie: Hm?

Bruce: Keep giving them hell out there.

Stephanie: Don't need to remind me twice!

———————

Honestly this kinda went on for a bit longer than I intended. Was neat just going with the flow. Still am getting into comics and stuff so my apologies if I'm not too good yet with their dynamic.

#still a novice in terms of comics so my apologises if I'm still getting used to their characters #stephanie brown #bruce wayne #the spoiler #batman #batgirl #robin #wayne family adventures #wfa #headcanon #shitpost #incorrect quotes #batfamily #bat-family #incorrect batfamily quotes #tim drake #timsteph

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livingdreams97 · 23 days

Text

Eloise Bridgerton - "The Prince" (Part 4)

Eloise Bridgerton x Male reader/oc

Summary: Two people who have never seen each other before, with the same need and desire to be free in different ways. What could come of that when both people meet each other?

Words: 4.581

Masterlist

Eloise's POV

A couple of hours ago my family arrived at Aubrey Hall and my youngest silings were running around the place like wild animals. My brothers have disappeared and Daphne is with mother, Lady Danbury, Kate and Edwina talking about the season somewhere around the house.

Which left me alone, sitting on an outdoor chair in the mansion's back garden and somewhat bored.

I did not want to participate in the conversation with my sister, mother and others; since the subject does not really interest me. I'd rather be with my brothers, but as soon as we set foot in Aubrey Hall two hours ago they disappeared and have shown no sign of life.

And I'm not going to be running all over the place, like Gregory and Hyacinth were doing.

I just pray that something interesting happens and it can keep me busy at least for a while. Because if this goes on like this, I'll end up cutting myself with the pages of my books and falling apart in the living room floor.

Apparently my prayers are answered, when one of the butlers appears and speaks to me.

XY: Miss Bridgerton, Prince Y/n of Hannover has just arrived and is waiting for you in the hall.- he informed me and I practically jumped out of my seat.

Eloise: That's great. - I comment happily and walking quickly towards the entrance of the mansion.

XY: If you don't need anything else, we'll take the prince's objects to his room assigned by Lady Bridgerton.- he comments when we reach the hall.

Eloise: We don't need anything else, thank you.- I thank him and after a slight bow he takes Y/n's luggage along with another man. -I thought you were never going to get there.- I say amused, crossing my arms and looking at the prince.

Y/n: I had a slight setback.- He informed me without much detail.

Eloise: What kind of setback? - I ask curiously, seeing the amusement in his eyes.

Y/n: One that doesn't concern you.- he answers me with grace and I just look at him badly. -Now, will you grant me the wish to give me a guided tour of the mansion or do I have to ask someone from the service?- he asks amused, raising an eyebrow and looking me straight in the eye.

Eloise: Ask someone from the service.- I answer challengingly, looking for a fun and entertaining reaction from him.

Y/n: I'll do that then.- he assures, leaning over and trying to walk towards the stairs.

Eloise: Where do you think you're going? - I ask amused running towards him and grabbing his arm to stop him.

Y/n: To ask if someone offers to give me a guided tour, since a certain Bridgerton doesn't want to and I don't want to get lost in the place.- he answers humorously and I look at him with narrowed eyes.

Eloise: Idiot.- I muttered hitting his arm. -Now follow me.- I order him and start walking towards the main hall.

I don't turn to see if he's following me or not, but I can hear his hurried footsteps and I smile helplessly, not knowing the reason for said smile.

POV Y/n

I don't know when I went from receiving a tour of the mansion to being in the huge back garden playing pall mall, but here I am now.

Daphne: We all know how the pall mall works.- she assures everyone present. - The first to choose the deck and strike first will be our guest Y/n.- she points to me with her hand and I look at her surprised.

Y/n: I guess thanks.- I appreciate it. -Which one does Eloise usually choose?- I asked Benedict in a whisper quickly.

Benedict: Yellow.- he whispers back to me with his hand in front of his mouth so that no one notices.

I nod surreptitiously and walk over to where all the decks are. I look at each deck and once my eyes land on the yellow one, I reach out without hesitation.

As my fingers wrap around the wood, I look up, meeting Eloise's blue gaze. I smile wickedly as I raised the mallet and I see the scowl on her face.

Y/n: Yellow is my favorite color. - I lie with a smile without taking my eyes off Eloise's.

The rest practically fight over the rest of the decks, before we start the game and the fights between the brothers are present.

Benedict: Eloise don't cheat.- he accuses his sister, who is moving her ball subtly and secretly with her foot.

Y/n: So besides being clumsy at dancing, you're a cheater at the game. - I whisper leaning towards her, so that only she can hear me.

Eloise: Shut up.- she growls at me pushing my chest with her hand.

Colin: Observe and learn people.- he says, positioning himself and hitting the ball with his mallet, but it doesn't go through the hoop.

Anthony: Sorry, what were you saying?- he asks his brother with an amused smile.

Kate: Don't you laugh so much.- she tells her husband, causing a bad face in him and laughter in the rest.

Daphne: None of you should laugh.- she assures everyone, preparing to her his ball with the mallet. -Because I plan to win as always.- she says confidently, hitting the ball and getting it through the hoop.

Benedict: Hey, I'm still in the game.- he reminds his sister with an amused smile.

Eloise: And me.- she assures them placing herself in the middle of everyone. -This year I plan to win.- she tells us all with confidence and I can't help but smile at her confidence.

We continue playing for a while longer, until the game ends and I end up winning to the surprise of everyone present. Although there is no surprise on my part, since I am a very good player and I am passionate about sports.

Y/n: And how about your victory Eloise? - I ask her amused while we all have dinner together.

Eloise: Very funny.- she says sarcastically looking at me with narrowed eyes. -But I know you cheated.- she threatens me seriously.

Y/n: And can you explain to me what cheating are you accusing me of? - I ask her amused, taking a sip of my wine.

Elosie: I don't know, yet.- she answered thoughtfully. -But I'm going to find out how you cheated to win and take away my victory.- she asures me and I just smile delighted.

Y/n: I'll be waiting then.- I assure her with a friendly smile.

The rest of dinner is spent talking to Benedict and Colin about minor trivia. We also make sure to taunt Eloise a bit, loud enough for her to hear us so we can tease her a bit.

When dinner is over, I sneak up to Lady Bridgerton and ask to speak to her in private. We entered the main library of the mansion and we both took a seat in the armchairs of the room.

Violet: And tell me my Lord, what is the reason for this conversation? - she asks me with evident interest.

Y/n: I wanted to talk about a serious and more important topic with you.- I answer trying to hide my nervousness.

Violet: Well, you will say.- she nods giving me the floor.

Y/n: As you may have noticed, I've been spending a lot of time with your daughter and it's clear that we've become somewhat close.- I start seeing how she nods with a small smile. -And I don't want to disrespect you or your family at any time.- I say trying to think of how to explain myself.

Violet: And you haven't.- she assures me with a friendly smile.

Y/n: I'm glad to hear that.- I nod with a nervous smile. -That's why I wanted to talk to you first, because you are Eloise's mother and it seemed the most appropriate thing to do in this situation.- I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. -I wanted to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage.- I ask directly.

Violet: Oh my god! - she exclaims in surprise, covering her mouth with her hand.

The room remains completely silent for a few moments, where I play with my hands as a sign of nervousness and uncertainty about the response of the woman in front of me.

Y/n: So what do you say? - I ask her a bit uncomfortable by the silence.

Violet: Of course I'll give you my daughter's hand.- she nods energetically. -As long as Eloise agrees to the proposition, I have nothing against it.- she confirms and I can't help but release the air retained inside me.

Y/n: I'm glad to know that your answer is positive. - I smile letting the retained nerves dissipate from my body.

Now I just have to propose to Eloise publicly and organize the wedding. Since thanks to our agreement, I know that Eloise will agree to marry me and there will be no problem with that part.

Violet: And you already have chosen the ring? - She asks me interested, leaning forward in a show of interest.

Y/n: Yes.- I nod, taking the black velvet box out of my pocket. -What do you think?- I ask, opening the box and showing her the object inside.

Violet: Oh my god, it's so precious.- she whispers, taking the small box in her hands and looking at the ring in greater detail.

Y/n: My aunt gave it to me to propose to your daughter.- I comment, seeing the surprise in her eyes.

Violet: Has the queen chosen the ring for my daughter?- she asks surprised.

Y/n: More than that.- I commented with a slight smile. -That ring was one of the first that my uncle, the King, gave to my aunt many years ago. The emerald is my aunt's favorite stone and she thought that the ring had a deep meaning, so it would be the perfect ring for my future wife. - I tell her and I can see a different shine in her eyes.

Violet: And she's right. Rings with meaning are more unique than any recently bought. - she nods, giving me back the box with the ring.

Y/n: So with your permission, tomorrow I'll ask Eloise for her hand. - I nod, putting the velvet box back in my jacket pocket.

Violet: I just hope my daughter says yes, because it would be a pleasure to have you as part of the family.- she tells me and we both get up, ending the conversation.

We left the library, saying goodnight and parting ways. I head towards the bedroom assigned to me and on the way I meet Eloise with her little sister.

In order not to arouse any kind of suspicion, I wish them both a good night and secretly nod to my future fiancée.

I can see her eyes widen slightly as she realizes what my nod means and she gives me a slight nod letting me know she's understood.

Now I just have to think about how to ask for her hand tomorrow and do it in a way so that her family believes that we are really in love. But with how good of an actress Eloise is, I'm sure everyone will believe us right away without any problem.

Eloise's POV

I'm nervous. Why am I nervous? This is simply a trade and there is no reason to be nervous.

I just have to say a simple yes and the rest of my life will be taken care of. I will be completely free and I will stop feeling any kind of pressure to get married or find a husband. It is a simple word that will open all doors for me.

This is a simple transaction, there are no feelings involved and that's why I don't understand the reason for my nerves.

My hands tremble as they caress the soft fabric of my white dress, feeling the softness and delicacy of silk.

Violet: You look beautiful honey.- she whispers looking at my reflection in the mirror over my shoulder.

Eloise: I'm not going out. - I deny energetically.

Violet: And why is that dear? - she asks me interested with a smile on her face.

Eloise: I don't know if I'm ready to get married.- I answer, feeling my heart beat faster.

Violet: Oh dear.- she sighs placing her hands on my arms. -It's the nerves that are speaking.- she assures me caressing my arms with affection.

Eloise: Why would I be nervous? - I ask confused, feeling a certain amount of comfort from her touch.

Violet: Because it's one of the most important days for a woman, darling.- she answers with an understanding look. -The day of my wedding with your father, I was trembling with nerves and anticipation. It is understandable to feel nervous on your wedding day and especially when you love the person you will marry.- she tries to comfort me and I avoid opening my eyes for the last part.

Eloise: How did you know you loved father? - I ask a little scared by her answer.

Violet: I wouldn't know how to explain it.- she sighs with a slight grimace. -What I do know is that every time I thought of him, a smile appeared on my face without even noticing it, my stomach turned when he was near me, my skin quivered every time he touched my hand and every time that I was doing something i liked; immediately I wanted to share it with him.- she tells me and I remain thoughtful.

I think about the times when a smile adorned my face when I thought of Y/n, about how being with him makes me enjoy someone else's company and the long talks we have.

I think about how an essential warmth invades my body when he is near me, when he smiles at me or when he brings me books thinking that I might like them.

I find that every time I read a new book, I think about whether he would like to read it so we can discuss it together.

Finally, I am aware of how in the few times he has touched my hand and kissed it, my body reacts to his touch. I can remember the pleasant tingling that runs through my body at his touch and it is now when I open my eyes in surprise.

Eloise: I love Y/n.- I murmured without really knowing what to do.

I feel my mind go around and around without really knowing how it happened. At what point have I gone from supporting Y/n, accepting his proposal and maintaining a friendly relationship, to loving him.

Violet: Why else would you have agreed to marry him?- she asks with a certain degree of amusement in her tone of voice.

Eloise: I have to talk to Y/n.- I say alarmed.

Violet: You'll see him at the altar in a few minutes and then you can talk to him all you want.- she assures me with a smile.

Eloise: No mom .- I deny turning around and looking around upset. -I need to talk to him now!- I assured him in a hurry trying to dodge her and go looking for him.

Violet: No, no, no.- she denies grabbing my arm and preventing me from leaving the room. -The groom can't see the bride before the wedding.- she immediately denies.

Eloise: You don't understand mom, I have to talk to him.- I beg desperately and a few seconds away from a desperate cry.

Violet: Honey, calm down.- she asks me, caressing my arms again. -Take a deep breath and inhale slowly.- she orders me and I nod trying to regulate my breathing.

Once I am calmer, my mother takes me to the sofa in one of the many rooms in the palace and makes me sit down.

Violet: Are you feeling better?- she asks me and I nod, taking a deep breath once more.

Eloise: Yes.- I murmur directing my gaze to my hands, which are still trembling and apparently my mother notices as she places her hands on mine.

Violet: You don't have to get upset darling, everything will be fine and you don't have to get so nervous.- she assures me. -You're just nervous, just breathe and try to relax.- she tells me and I nod trying to stop my hands from shaking.

We stay in silence for a few minutes, where I manage to calm down enough so that my hands stop shaking.

Some light knocks are heard at the door of the room and Benedict's head appears through it.

Benedict: Everything is ready.- he tells us entering the room. -They are waiting for the bride.- he says with a smile and I take a deep breath.

Violet: Are you ready? - she asks me and I am only able to nod. -Well then, let's get going.- she says getting up from the sofa and helping me to get up too.

I walk to where my brother is, who immediately smiles at me and gives me his arm to intertwine with mine.

With each step I take toward the ceremony room, my heart pounding in my ears and my breathing becoming heavy. I swallow heavily, when my brother stops in front of the closed living room doors and looks at me for approval.

I stay for a few moments watching the big white doors of the room, as soon as they open everything will be real and I'll be walking towards my future husband.

I don't know what to do.

If I go through with the plan and say yes, I'll be marrying the man I love. But he doesn't love me and it doesn't seem fair.

And on the other hand, if I decide to run away and leave the plan behind, everyone will start talking about me and my family again. My family has already suffered a lot with the rumors and above all thanks to me.

Plus it wouldn't be the first time a Bridgerton wedding has been called off and we all know how that ended.

But that is not the worst.

The worst thing is that this time the queen is not only the hostess of the wedding, but she is the aunt of the future husband and that will cause me to be banished from London.

Because what Lady Whistledown wrote about me being a political radical turned her against me and made her have a bad opinion of me. I don't want to imagine the opinion she'll have of me if I leave her heir standing at the altar.

Benedict: Are you okay? - he asks me in a whisper taking me out of my thoughts.

Eloise: I don't know.- I answer honestly.

Benedict: It's not too late, you know right? - he asks me causing me to look at him confused.

Eloise: Late for what? - I ask wanting to understand what my brother tells me.

Benedict: Too late to cancel the wedding.- he answers me with a comforting smile. -Just tell me and we'll run away like no one has ever done before.- he assures me with a small laugh.

I watch him for a few seconds, considering the offer and weighing every possible outcome of my escape. The idea sounds tempting and I'm sure Benedict will defend me and help with everything.

You're POV

I swallow heavily, running my hands through my morning coat and wiping the sweat from my hands. I watch the guests talk to each other in whispers, causing my nervousness to increase and a knot to form in my stomach.

Lady Bridgerton has entered the room almost ten minutes ago, but she has entered alone and no one has entered after her.

She's supposed to be with Eloise, to help her get ready and her presence here assures me that Eloise is ready. But it doesn't show up anywhere, because she is nowhere to be seen.

I look over to where my aunt is sitting for comfort, seeing the impatience and worried look on her face. She seems to notice my look, as she offers me a small smile and a reassuring nod.

But I can't calm down when I feel hundreds of eyes on me and I can hear the murmurs of those present.

My gaze then falls on where the Bridgertons are sitting, muttering and talking a little erratically to each other. That alarms me even more.

What if Eloise regrets the deal and backs out? What if she leaves me standing at the altar?

That would explain the lateness and the stressed look on the face of the Bridgertons family matriarch. Maybe she already knows and is telling the rest of the family.

My breath stops when the doors of the room open and one of my aunt's waiters enters the room.

XY: Miss Eloise Bridgerton by the hands of Mr. Benedict Bridgerton.- he announces and I can feel myself breathing again.

But as soon as I start to breathe, the air gets stuck in my throat and it's because of something else entirely.

My mind goes completely blank as I see Eloise in her wedding dress with her hair up in a high bun. The light that enters through the windows of the room illuminates her dress and she looks like a complete angel.

The train of the dress trails gently across the floor, as does her veil, which rests just in front of the updo on her head and at the beginning of the train of her dress.

I'm not aware of the moment when Eloise has reached my side and Benedict offers me her hand. I'm only aware when my soon-to-be wife's brother clears his throat and the noise snaps me out of my reverie.

Y/n: Sorry.- I whisper embarrassed, feeling the heat flood my cheeks and receiving my fiancée's hand.

Benedict: Take care of her.- he threatens me seriously, before walking away and sitting with the rest of the family.

Priest: We are gathered here to celebrate the union between Prince Y/n of Hannover and Miss Eloise Bridgerton.- he begins to speak, but I only observe Eloise's profile and try to be as discrete as possible. -Love is something... ... ... ....- He speaks but I ignore him, looking only at the woman to my left. -Now I want you to repeat with me, you first prince. With this ring, I take you Eloise Bridgerton as my wife, to love you and take care of you in sickness and in health, in riches and in poverty until death do us part.- he says and I look at the priest paying attention to him again .

Y/n: With this ring, I take you Eloise Bridgerton as my wife, to love you and take care of you in sickness and in health, in riches and in poverty until death do us part.- I recite while staring at her eyes, receiving the ring from the priest and placing it on her finger.

Priest: Now your tourn Miss Bridgerton.- he says, offering her the other ring and I can see how she takes it with a trembling hand.

Eloise: With this ring, I take you Y/n from Hannover as my husband, to love you and take care of you in sickness and in health, in riches and in poverty until death do us part.- she says nervously and shakily placing the ring on my finger.

Priest: With this exchange of rings, this marriage unites and will be consolidated with a kiss.- he says and I look nervously at the woman in front of me. -You can kiss each other.- he tells us.

I take a deep breath, before taking a step forward closing my eyes and leaning down feeling the erratic beating of my heart.

For a moment, my heart stops completely when my lips make contact with hers, and I can feel her breathing stop.

As we break from the kiss, I open my eyes to look at my now wife and see that she's still keeping them closed. I smile at the image and when she opens her eyes, she immediately smiles back at me.

I extend my hand to her, which she immediately entwines with hers and I direct her towards the large backyard where the celebration will take place.

Eloise: I have to talk to you.- she whispers so that only I can hear heron our walk outside.

Y/n: Bad or good? - I ask confused, smiling at the guests.

Eloise: It depends.- she answers me, doing the same action as me.

Y/n: Okay.- I nod almost imperceptibly.

But as soon as we set foot in the garden, people come to greet us and congratulate us on the wedding. Every time we try to get away so we can talk, someone steps up and stops that from happening.

But I take advantage of a moment when everyone is watching the fireworks, to grab Eloise by the hand and pull her behind some tall hedges a bit away from the crowd.

Y/n: What did you wanted to talk about? - I ask her in a whisper, not wanting to speak too loud and be heard.

Eloise: It's about the agreement.- she whispers, looking around making sure there's no one around.

Y/n: What about the agreement? - I ask completely confused.

Eloise: What happens if there is something that alters or changes the agreement? - she answers me with another question.

Y/n: I don't know.- I answer honestly. -I couldn't know if something could alter or change our agreement, if I don't know what it is about.- I clarify and see how she bites her lower lip nervously.

Eloise: Hypothetically speaking.- she clarifies nervously and I nod. -What would happen if one of the two parties ends up falling in love with the other party?- she asks, looking anywhere but at me and my heart races.

Y/n: Hypothetically speaking? - I ask and she nods. -That maybe the other party has also fallen in love.- I admit feeling the heat on my cheeks from shame.

She opens her eyes wide, directing her gaze to me and staring at me. I try to calm my heart; not wanting to have a heart attack.

Eloise: You...? - she asks me uncertainly, pointing to herself and I nod nervously.

Y/n: And you..? - I ask in the same way, pointing to me and she nods, joining her lips in a straight line.

Eloise: And now what? - she asks, avoiding my gaze and I decide to be brave.

I take two steps towards her, moving closer to her body and gently placing my hand on her chin. I force her head up and look at me, before I say what I've wanted to say for a month.

Y/n: Do you want to see the world with me? - I ask with a small nervous smile.

Eloise: Yes.- she nods with a slight redness on her cheeks after a couple of seconds.

I can't stand her closeness anymore, so I finish bringing my face closer to hers and I put our lips together again.

This time, the kiss is longer and lets us release all the feelings we had stored. My hands are placed on her waist, to be able to bring her closer to me and to be able to hug her by the hip against my body.

While her hands go up my arms and intertwine with each other at the nape of my neck.

We kiss until the air becomes necessary and we put our foreheads together to maintain the closeness between our faces.

Y/n: I love you.- I admit for the first time out loud without taking my eyes off hers.

Eloise: I love you.- she whispers and this time she is the one who brings our lips together in a hungry kiss.

If someone had told me that an agreed marriage proposal would have led me to meet the love of my life, I would never have believed it.

But fate is capricious and you never know where it will turn out.

But looking back from the backyard of my mansion with my wife, where I am playing with our four children and my beautiful wife is reading a book in a chair in the sun, that proposition was the wisest choice of my life.

THE END

#eloise bridgerton #bridgerton #eloise bridgerton x reader #bridgerton netflix #eloise bridgerton x male reader #anthony bridgerton #lady whistledown #queen charlotte #benedict bridgerton #violet bridgerton #edwina sharma #kate sharma #oc character #male reader

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a-s-levynn · 5 months

Text

A Series of Small Offerings

or a Sleep Token prompt list based on lyrics

A 4 part art challenge that can be an extensive several weeks long endeavour or you can pick and choose the part(s) that interest you the most.

Big or small, wonky or beyond artistic, just a scribble or a masterpiece; drawing, sculpture, drabble, full on fanfic or even a piece of music? Everything has a place here so long you enjoy creating it. No offering is too small to be a worthy one. 🫶🏻

Pick one (or even both) of the lines from the given song. Take it as literal or abstract as an inspiration as you feel fitting and let the creativity flow.

Worship. 🙏🏻

(edited version with Shelter added, a line switched for TMBTE, corrected Blood Sport lyrics)

PART I - ONE, TWO and the singles

Thread the Needle

You turn the lights down / Come on and find out or Just look at where we're lying / An invisible space

2. Fields of Elation

The daylight recedes in unison, this room / Buries the hours like death, in motion or And nobody else can pull me out / And the fields of elation, quiet and loamy

3. When the Bough Breaks

We could stay suspended / Even when the bough breaks or You don't really love, you just hate to be alone

4. Calcutta

I sweat and I ache for / Your eyes and the way you breathe or Melting skywards more than silence broken / I'm whole again for just a moment

5. Nazareth

Building you a kingdom / Dripping from the open mouth, [I'll show you] or Manifest pain at the core of pleasure / I'll see you when the wrath comes around

6. Jerico

Tread, ancient water salt / Like I sink, down like precious stones or My hands are not worthy

7. Jaws

The whites of your eyes burn / From across the room or Caged and always provoked / By prey left unattended

8. The Way That You Were

To tear that knife from what once / Would have been dead fingers or And you will no longer / Stand between collapsing walls

PART II - Sundowning

The Night Does Not Belong To God

The whites of your eyes / Turn black in the lowlight in turning divine or And the night comes down like heaven

2. The Offering

And you are a garden, entwined with all / You are the silence on sacred shores or So take a bite, I want to know

3. Levitate

And we imitate a story of perfect days / A ballad we fabricate or Will you levitate / Up where my love doesn't matter?

4. Dark Signs

And where we met, there must have been dark signs / Omens in your skies or And I hate who I have become (I might break and bend to my basic need to be loved and close to somebody)

5. Higher

And we are exhausted by all this pretending / We just can't resist the violence or When you're alone / I am granting you more than / The debt that I owe

6. Take Aim

And it sends me shivers / How you love like weapons kill or Call, won't you call out my name? / Like a curse on this world?

7. Give

I'll tear the fibre from the filament / I'll be the limit of your light again or Want to give you all that I can give / All my darkest impulses

8. Gods

No more teeth to bite with / No more smiling faces i am alone again or Like fire from the heavens / Tearing me asunder beside you

9. Sugar

We still know how to feed / We still know how to bleed or Let me wrap the chains / Addicted to the pain, oh

10. Say That You Will

Is that a glint in your eye? / Is that a blade in your palm? or In this light you are mine

11. Drag Me Under

And I know the gods will abandon the heavens just to find us or Hold me beneath the surface (And I know the angels tonight are as lost for words)

12. Blood Sport

Even if the sky cracks in mourning / And the heavens just won't open up for me or Tangled with what I never said / You say it doesn't matter

13. Shelter

When it rains, you don't take shelter / You don't take signs from God or And as you become part of my waking rituals, I can tell / You gather up all of my demons

PART III - This Place Will Become Your Tomb

Atlantic

Crumble like a temple built from future daughters / To wasteland when the oceans recede or So flood me like Atlantic, weather me to nothing / Wash away the blood on my hands

2. Hypnosis

Lift, oh, lift me out / Of my own skin or Split my skin, no / Just make me bleed

3. Mine

We balance fire in the earth we walk / Will never stop me reaching forth or With colors over all the wasted years / Eternity will bring you near

4. Like That

New weapons to snap those final strings / Just to watch me fall back or Push down into membranes and layers / Creating a slow dissection

5. The Love You Want

Too many swallowed keys / Will make you bleed internally someday, oh or Now keep the freakshow talk / To a careful minimum

6. Fall For Me

In a city of ice there are burning cathedrals / Turning the skies into glass or And I feel like I'm losing touch with what I am again / And slowly I remember why I cannot pretend

7. Alkaline

It's too late for me now, I am altered / There is something beneath or I see in a different light / The objects of my desire

8. Distraction

'Cause I am broken into fractions / Oh, and I am driven to distraction or Something much more than I could ask for

9. Descending

Create, release or My love withers and chokes in perfect awe

10. Telomeres

And we go beyond the farthest reaches / Where the light bends and wraps beneath us or Through death / My arms are open

11. High Water

When the mouth of infinity / Buries its teeth in me or Wash me clean again before I pull myself beneath the waves

12. Missing Limbs

The blessings rain on battles in the heaven's arms or 'Cause it still makes my blood run cold / To remember what I did before

PART IV - Take Me Back To Eden

Chokehold

A sacred guardian or Even if I can't sleep / Oh, and though we act out of our holy duty to be constantly awake

2. The Summoning

A taste of the divine or Take me past the edge / I want to see the other side

3. Granite

Between the second hand smoke and the glass on the street or Never mind the death threats / Parting at the door

4. Aqua Regia

Following a bloodtrail, frothing at the maw or Between the pain and the way you look / I'm stuck in a time where the mountains shook

5. Vore

You have become the voice in my head or Will we remain stuck in the throat of gods? / Will the pain stop if we go deeper?

6. Ascensionism

Your reflection, your bitter deception / Setting you free or With one eye on the door, other eye on a rail / Other, other eye following a scarlet trail

7. Are You Really Okay?

I was trying to hold back the darkness or But I, I don't believe you when you tell me you are fine

8. The Apparition

I wake up to a suicide frenzy / Loaded dreams still leave me empty or Just let me go or take me with you

9. DYWTYLM

Do you pull at the chains? / Or do you push into constant aching? or Do you ever believe / That we can turn into different people?

10. Rain

Refracted in light, reflected in sound or And I know, I know, I am what I am / The mouth of the wolf, the eyes of the lamb

11. Take Me Back To Eden

We dive through crystal waters, perfect oceans / But no one told me not to breathe or I'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired / Reset my patient violence along both lines of a pathway higher

12. Euclid

The night belongs to you / This bough has broken through or The whites of your eyes / Turn black in the low light

Thank you so much if you took any part of this on or just read through it.

Never forget, that the most important thing is that no matter what,

Worship 🙏🏻

#a series of small offerings #sleep token art challenge #sleep token #sleep token fanart #levynn tries to draw

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