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#HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN TO THE MOST HANDSOME MAN IN THE WORLD
pityslash · 8 months
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“are you done yet?”
it was quiet and free from disturbance, drawers open and close while you got ready for dinner with your boyfriend. you smooth and fix the strap of your dress, flinching when it nips your skin. “yes, actually.”
he stands at the doorway, half hidden, but he stood tall and you could feel the strong aura that overwhelmed every room katsuki bakugo walked into.
“you are so handsome, katsuki.” and all for you. he hummed at the praise, still trying to wrap his mind around it.
you compliment the color of his tie and there was that petty pout as you start to fix his collar. katsuki scratches the palm of his right hand, nose crinkled like a child.
he eyes the jacket slung over the chair across the room. you smile and let out a sigh, feeling good next to the man so many girls fawned over; but he came home to you.
“i hate jackets, i can barely move my arms.”
“because your arms are too big, maybe stop going to the gym so often?” he laughed, despite his annoyance. you give him a kiss.
the nice breeze from the open windows felt nice, maybe you could hear the ticking of the clock from the room next door. you could already taste dinner, it had been a long day.
the chained necklace shines around your neck, no doubt it was pure silver or gold— only the best for his woman— he knew you were the most amazing, beautiful person in the world.
katsuki clicks his tongue and reaches inside the bag full of your makeup, lipsticks, glosses, the new eyeshadow palette you had yet to use. you watched him twist the tube and pull you closer by the hip.
“it smudged,” he said, reapplying the color that matched your cheeks perfectly. maybe it was the shade he picked when you dragged him shopping last week.
you could feel your nails ache and dig into the fabric of his tie, still so neat with no wrinkles.
katsuki’s heart skipped a beat and he felt his cheeks flush with warmth. the hand on your skin turned hesitant, strange for a man who was always sure. “hm, there. let’s go already, or we’ll be late.”
you nodded with a smile, grateful. “okay, let’s go.”
we’ll be late— but he still takes a moment to kiss you again, all the same. kisses your cheek just this once, light and full of air. gentle with you not because he thinks you would break, but because he’s soft with everything, when he gets the chance.
“happy birthday.. you look beautiful.” you held a love that could withstand any storm.
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dedicated to the most beautiful amazing talented @call-me-ko’s happy date of birth !!! ah i hope u have a great one
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valeskafics · 6 months
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"Brighter Than The Stars" - Hermes!Jacaerys Velaryon x Mortal!Reader
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a/n: a very late happy birthday to my sweet @howyouloveyourdragon!!! thank you for being YOU, my darling 🥰🥰❤️
Summary: Jacaerys, the God of Speed and Luck, becomes besotted with you, a mortal whose beauty shines brighter than the stars.
TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, oral f receiving, p in v sex, breeding kink, major character death
Word Count: 2,300 words
Rating: 18+, MDNI
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated ❤️
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Jacaerys knows that his frequent visits to the mortal world - and his subsequent liaisons with mortal men and women alike - are the subject of much gossip in the Red Keep. They call him flighty, suggesting that his winged sandals are an apt descriptor of his personality as a whole. It bothers him more than he cares to admit. But when he asks Aegon what to do about it, his brother God of Wine and Celebration merely laughs, telling him to instead revel in his debauchery, much as he does.
For someone who is the God of Luck, Jacaerys does not feel quite so lucky. And so, yet again, he takes flight to the mortal world, hoping to find someone to spend the night with, to fill this emptiness inside of him. He longs for something deeper, something longer lasting, but he has yet to find it. He happens upon a festival in honor of the successful harvest. The crowd greets him, excited beyond belief to have one of the gods present at their humble festival. There are many beautiful maidens at the festival and he makes sure to speak to each one, wanting to pick out the fairest to be his companion for the night.
And then he sees you, dancing with a crown of flowers on your head, a smile brighter than the stars painted on your beautiful face. Jacaerys feels as though time has come to a stop, staring at you, awestruck, meeting your gaze, a pink flush on his cheeks. You give him a soft smile, and he walks to you, slowly and with purpose, his eyes locked on you as if you are the most beautiful creature of all time. You separate from your sisters who giggle as you walk toward the handsome deity.
If you are the epitome of feminine beauty tonight, he is the most beautiful man you have ever seen. His shoulders are broad and the toga he wears shows off his defined chest, his golden skin. His hair falls to his shoulders in chocolate brown curls, warm brown eyes looking into yours, a dimpled smile on his lips. His nose and jaw are prominent and the sprinkling of freckles across his face enhance his beauty all the more.
“Are you the god Jacaerys?” you ask him once you reach him.
He nods, smiling at you and replies in a soft voice, “Indeed I am. And who might you be, sweet one?” You tell him, smiling back at him as he draws nearer and compliments your name, “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“And it is an honor to have one of the gods grace our humble festival,” you say, heat rising to your cheeks at the intensity in his gaze.
“I only came to the festival to see you, sweet one,” Jacaerys flirts, taking another step toward you, his chest nearly pressed to yours, “I had heard stories of an angel that would grace this festival and I wanted to see her for myself.”
You giggle at his words, biting your lip, “Did you find this angel of yours?”
“Yes, I have,” he nods, leaning in and staring deep into your eyes, his hand caressing your cheek, “She’s looking back at me right now.”
You laugh softly, a nervous flutter in your stomach as you reply teasingly, “Oh, is she?”
He gives you a cheeky grin and nods once more, “She is indeed. And I believe she is the most beautiful of them all,” he lowers his voice, “You shine brighter than the stars, sweet lady.”
Your eyes flutter shut as he runs a hand through your hair. You let out a contented sigh, resting your hand on top of his, giving him a smile that he swears would put any goddess to shame.
“Shall we dance?” you suggest.
Jacaerys nods, smirking slightly as the two of you make your way into the throng of dancing villagers, his strong arms wrapped around your waist, “It would be my greatest honor.”
The two of you dance among the crowd, the people of your village watching in awe as the God of Luck falls in love before their very eyes. He spins you in his arms, unable to tear his eyes away from you, adjusting your flower crown when it nearly flies off your head. Your laughter warms his heart when he lifts you into the air. You throw your head back and laugh, the light of the moon being almost heavenly as it reflects on you. He continues twirling you with grace, bringing you back to solid ground, his voice a low, earnest whisper.
“You are a vision.”
“As are you, my lord,” you say softly, resting your hands on his cheeks, smiling at him so very sweetly.
Jacaerys can resist your charms no longer and leans in, brushing his lips against yours, heart soaring with joy when you return his kiss, arms wrapping around his neck to hold him close. He knows he has met his soulmate in you. His grandsire, Viserys the King of the Gods, once cursed all beings to live as two halves, searching their whole lives for their missing half. And he knows he has found his when he looks into your eyes.
“Will you marry me?” Jacaerys asks in a soft, almost timid voice.
A look of shock and then sadness flickers across your face as you respond gently, “You are a god, I am a human. It would never work.
He looks at you, shaking his head, “But I love you. We were made to be together, whether you are human or a goddess,” Jacaerys’ gaze is pleading as he looks at you, “Please be my wife. I will give you the world.”
“I will grow old and wither and die,” you try to reason with him, “And you will remain young and handsome forever.”
“Then we will live in the here and now,” Jacaerys declares, hands on your face, his breath intermingling with yours, “I will be by your side for every moment of your life. It may be a short marriage, but it will burn brighter than any star. I cannot imagine leaving here without you.”
Moved by the emotion filling his voice, you let him pull you into another sweet yet passionate, fiery kiss, his hand tangling in your hair while the other holds your hip. When he finally has to break away from you in order to allow you to breathe, you can see the pure, unadulterated love shining in his warm brown gaze as he looks at you.
“Brighter than the stars, you say?” you ask softly.
“It is a poor comparison,” Jacaerys whispers, looking at you with awe and adoration, “You eclipse the stars with your beauty and they are nothing but little specks compared to your radiance. No words can describe your beauty and no comparison can ever come close to how much I love and adore you,” he declares passionately.
You press your lips to his again, losing yourself in his embrace.
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The two of you are married that very night at a temple where one of the priests who serves your love weds the two of you, binding you to him for the rest of your mortal life. Jacaerys spirits you away to the Red Keep, the home of the gods, ignoring any words of protest from his mother, his stepfather, anyone. He carries you in his arms, moving with speed and grace to his chambers which will soon become yours as well. He lays you down on his bed, gazing upon you with reverence, as though it is you who is the deity and not him. And to him? You are. And he fully intends to worship his sweet wife.
You gaze up at him with those eyes that make his heart feel as though it is about to beat out of his chest, plump lips parted and hair sprawled across his pillows. He crawls over you, lips pressed to your neck, nibbling softly at your skin, wanting to leave his mark upon you so that everyone knows you belong to him and him alone. The soft moans that leave your lips spur him on and he slowly removes his toga and your dress, lust filling his gaze as he looks upon your bare form for the first time.
“You are divine, my love,” he whispers hoarsely, “The most beautiful woman I have ever seen. The most beautiful woman in the universe. And all mine.”
“All yours,” you echo his sentiment, “And are you mine?”
He nods eagerly, kissing a trail down your neck to the valley of your breasts, your stomach, and finally to your bare cunt, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss on your center, making your back arch up off the bed with desire. Your cries of his name urge him on as he buries his face between your thighs, his tongue moving in and out of you, tasting you, hands holding your thighs apart to allow him better access to you. You swear you see the heavens themselves as he brings you to your peak, his nose nestled against your pearl, moving from side to side.
And when his body joins with yours, you have never felt so full or complete in your entire life. His brown eyes gaze into yours, so much adoration in them that you almost want to shy away from his touch. He holds you as if you were a goddess, rolling his hips against yours, his long, thick cock hitting that spot inside of you that has your eyes rolling back as you beg him for more, nails raking down his back leaving an angry red trail in their wake. He ruts against you, lips pressed to yours, his curls matted to his head, a thin sheen of sweat covering his face and body as he claims you for his own.
“You feel so perfect around me, my sweet love,” he rasps in your ear, “Gods, I love you, I love you…”
“I love you, Jacaerys,” you mewl, burying your face in his neck, your peak rapidly approaching once more, “I love you more than the sun, the stars, the universe.”
“You are my everything,” he vows, his voice a low growl as he feels you squeezing around him, nearing his own climax, “I cannot wait to see you swell with my babe. How beautiful you will look with child. My child.”
His hips stutter, the head of his cock bullying against your sweet spot over and over until you reach your release, your body tightening around his as a wave of pleasure unlike anything you have ever known overtakes you, your entire body feeling as though it is on fire as he spills himself inside you.
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Years pass and your beloved Jacaerys remains devoted to you and your five children, little demigods and goddesses flitting about with their winged sandals, enough to give the pair of you a heart attack. As you near your thirtieth nameday, you begin to grow more frail, sickly even. Jacaerys worries as a fever overtakes you. He rests his hand on your warm brow, bringing cool towels to you as he continues to dote on you. Each breath you take grows more tremulous and shaky, and he feels you slipping away from him, your grip on his hand growing weaker with every moment.
“You cannot leave me, my sweet love,” he whispers, lips trembling, tears in his eyes, “I will not let you die.”
“It will be alright, my love,” you say softly, “Daemon will guide me to the River Styx. My soul will be at peace. You will find another and you will have our children to remind you of me and our love.”
He sobs as he holds your body close to his, trying to hold you tight as if he could keep you from leaving this world, “I do not want another,” he chokes out, tears running down his face, “You are all I ever want. All I ever need. Your eyes, your smile, I cannot live without them.”
You breathe your last breath in his arms and he lets out a gut-wrenching sob that shakes the Keep. Daemon comes to your chambers, an uncharacteristically gentle smile on the God of Death’s face as he rests a hand on your head.
“It seems there are other plans for your sweet human, Jacaerys. I will not be taking her to the Underworld.”
Jacaerys looks at his stepfather with a glimmer of hope in his eyes, asking as he wipes his tears away, “What do you mean, Daemon?”
Daemon closes his eyes and murmurs in your ear, “Awaken, Goddess of Love. You are chosen to be one of us, to live as we do, to be with your love for all time.”
Daemon leaves the room and your eyes flutter open. Jace looks at you in wonder and awe as he begins to cry again, though this time, his tears are those of joy.
“My sweet love,” he says, stroking your hair, eyes filled with adoration and love, and most of all, hope, “It is you.”
You look around the room, confused, “But I was so sick…”
“You are one of us now, my love. The Goddess of Love,” Jace says, kissing your lips, holding you tight, “The sickness was meant to test the strength of our love.”
You smile at him softly, holding him close, “Then we have eternity together. This love of ours.”
He nods, pressing his lips to yours, passionate, desperate, putting all the love he possesses into this kiss, “Yes, my love. Eternity together.”
Your tale was woven into the skies, two stars that shone brighter than all the others, just as your love always would.
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f1version · 7 months
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ORDER NUMBER 16 ★ CL16
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pairing: engineer!charles leclerc x scientist!reader (she/her)
summary: something about flirting with the guy you met at McDonald's at almost midnight.
warnings: fluff, meet-cute, probably unhealthy eating habits (aka mcdonald’s at midnight) because of work, the engineer and scientist thing is mentioned once, it is what it is (and it’s fluff)
word count: 1.2k
notes: originally wrote this in italian, like it made sense so it just happened, so have that piece of information!! also happy late birthday to this two baes @formulaforza & @strawberrysainz <33
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“Welcome to McDonald's, what can I get you tonight?” The cashier said with a half-smile, they seemed tired, having the last shift of the day didn’t feel ideal anyways.
“Hi, can I have a six-piece McNuggets combo? Thank you,” you said, handing over your card, and Allison —according to the name tag— nodded, charging six and a half euros, handing it back with a ticket. Number 15. "Thanks again!"
A bar table, five four-seat tables, and the counter made the McDonald's a small place, a quick stop in small Maranello. You had the impression that you would be the only one there at 11 p.m. However, while you waited for your order, the door opened revealing a brown-haired man, his green —or blue? no— eyes finding yours for a couple of seconds.
"Number 15!" One of the workers called, making you look away.
Both of you reached the counter simultaneously, once again curious eyes stealing glances, there was something in him that attracted you. Maybe it was the fact that he was very handsome, or maybe it was the sheepish smile he gave you before greeting Allison.
"I would like a cheeseburger, thank you," you heard the stranger ask for and a slight smile left your lips, Cheeseburger, really?
You took your tray and headed to one of the tables, sipping on your soda. Order number 16 was called about two minutes later and you felt the movement a few meters away.
For the third time that night, green may be the only color available when the stranger sits at the table across from you, face to face with you. A small smile found it’s way to your lips, Was this guy serious? This is his way of flirting? Is it even intentional?
You watched him take the first bite of his burger and, as if it were a movie, the meat slid off the bun, his eyes turning away from yours automatically. A soft laugh left your lips, his cheeks turning crimson.
Suddenly the table in front of him seemed to be the most interesting thing in the world, his eyes following the pattern on it. This guy.
You softly tapped the table, the silence on the establishment enough to let him hear, his head shooting upward, giving you what you assumed was his ‘I’m embarrassed’ smile. You, confident enough in whatever this interaction was, tilted your head towards the chair in front of you, an invitation. 
He changed seats, both of you smiling, searching for the start of a conversation.
“So, is your burger okay?” you said. The man seemed a bit taken aback, yet he laughed. 
“I hope so,” he replied. He was smiling, pretty crinkles around his eyes as he took a couple of fries into his mouth, “That was a bit embarrassing”
You laughed, “Well, I think it was a good first impression,” you saw his cheeks flush again.
“Really? Then I’m the luckiest guy on earth,” he said and you laughed, taking a moment to tell him your name. His eyes widened, “Oh Right, mamma mia, I’m- I’m Charles”
You laughed and he followed, this was so awkward yet it felt right. Talking to him- Charles is very nice.
“So,” he imitated you, “How did you end up in a McDonald’s at almost midnight? And don't say because you were hungry,” Charles asked. 
“Oh, I had the fantastic idea of leaving my job a little late, forgot I had an empty fridge, and I was hungry,” you answered. "What about you? How did you end up in a McDonald’s at almost midnight?"
"I wanted to meet a pretty girl, of course," Charles said, a grin on his face. You giggled softly, he broke his little act, “Actually, my reason is not that different. I was working on a few blueprints and when I finished, this McDonald’s was on the way to my flat."
“Blueprints?” you asked.
“I’m an engineer for Scuderia Ferrari”
“You’re lying” You smiled incredulously, he shook his head. Of course, this had to be more perfect, “I’m a scientist for Ferrari, Charles,” You took out your nearly new ID, “I got the job a couple of weeks ago.”
Charles chuckled, bringing out his own ID, "Well, what a crazy coincidence, isn't it?"
“A rather pleasant one if you ask me”
Your eyes met, and both of you burst into laughter. 
This was such an unexpected thing, but in some way, it made sense. A lot of people living around Maranello worked for Ferrari, yet meeting one in McDonald’s wasn’t the most normal thing. 
Additionally, Charles is gorgeous, his hair brown and a bit messy, his shape soft but defined, and his green eyes. They were like walking through an enchanted forest and ending up at the beach, turning and deep but also bright and colorful. You couldn’t help but lose yourself in them. 
He looked at you sweetly as both of you finished your meal, his eyes drifting to your last nugget. A question appeared on his mind.
“Why nuggets?” he asked.
“What? You don’t like them?” you giggled a bit, eyes widening when you noticed his hesitation. “No”
“Well, it’s not that I don’t like them!” Charles tried to defend himself, laughter escaping him.
“Oh mamma mia, no no,” you dramatized, “Charles, you can’t call me pretty girl and then tell me you don’t like nuggets!”
"I've never tried them!" he said, eating the last of his fries.
Your eyes widened again, “What? Never?” Charles shook his head, “How is that even possible? Are you allergic?” you continued, one hand resting on the table while the other grabbed your soda.
"No, my mum always ordered a cheeseburger for me and it just stuck," Charles explained, one of his hands reaching for yours.
“Well, now I will have to make you try them!”
“Well-”
“Hey guys,” the McDonald’s employee, Allison, interrupted “It's almost half past twelve and we have to clean the place, so if you could please wrap it up! Thank you!”
“Yeah, of course,” Charles was fast to answer.
You looked at him, and he was already looking at you, cheeks flushed and you knew you were as red. Without talking, you finished eating your nugget and he finished his drink, honey eyes locking with each other. Why does it have to end?
“It was so nice meeting you, Charles,” you rushed out, not wanting to say goodbye. 
He smiled knowingly, “You know, I would like to try some nuggets, maybe after work or on a weekend?”
And how could you say no to that? 
“I would really like that”
“Yeah?” You nodded and he beamed, “It’s a date then,” Charles rapidly grabbed a napkin and pulled out a pen from his pocket.
“Don’t you want to write your number directly on my phone?” you asked endeared, he was writing as fast as he could.
“For what?” he said standing up, and handing you the paper, “That takes away the cliché aspect!”
You chuckled, picking up your tray and dumping what was on it, Charles did the same. Both of you said goodbye to the —apparently very invested in your relationship— employees and left.
"My flat is one block that way," you said pointing to the right.
"Mine is one block to the left," he replied, "I guess not everything could be so perfect."
You smiled, "I’ll see you later, yeah?"
"Of course, see you soon," he said before taking your hand, squeezing it, and letting go.
3XX-XXXXXXX — Charles Leclerc ♡
Don’t tell anyone but I think I fell in love with this girl at Mcdonald’s!!!
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648 notes · View notes
sometimesanalice · 7 months
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Picture Perfect
Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader
Length: 1K
Warnings: angst and a big scoop of feels
(A what-if drabble, set in the ‘Like I Can’ universe. Can be read on its own.)
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“Is Bradley my dad?”
It’s the question that's fueled your 3AM thoughts ever since you had your daughter. It’s one you’d hoped you wouldn’t have to answer until she was older, preferably when she could at least pronounce her r's.
It was inevitable, you knew. Something to be noticed at some parent teacher conference or family fun day in the future. That while most kids had a set of parents, your little family- while perfect on its own- was one short of the traditional white picket fence dream.
You just never would have expected it to come so soon.
Your chest twinges as your now-four-year-old looks up at you with her big, open-hearted doe eyes, the ones that didn’t match your own, with vanilla ice cream smeared across her sweet face.
She was a near perfect image to the man seated next to her with his own vanilla ice cream clinging to the coarse hairs of his mustache and smudged on the left corner of his mouth, but whose wide brown eyes were nearly bulging out of his head looking at you like a deer in headlights.
Bradley was the boy who’d known you when you were in pigtails. The teen who had taught you to drive before you’d had your permit. The man you’d cried to when you’d seen the two lines on a positive pregnancy test weeks after a break up with someone who never deserved access to your body, let alone entrance to your heart.
That man had been all too happy to give up any claim to the little someone growing inside of you. The type who’d elected to send checks instead of birthday cards.
Your parents had wanted you to move home to be closer to them, when you’d told them the news and of your decision, but you didn’t think you could bear the whispers or the looks. Even though you’d love growing up there, returning back on your own hadn’t felt right for you.
Bradley was the one who’d convinced you to move to San Diego.
He was the one who had held your hair as you vomited morning, noon, and night during those early months. The one who had taken you out for late night milkshakes with a knowing smile when the baby craved one. The one who had held your hand and wiped your tears. The one who had stayed up late and woke up early and brought you tea and toast as you figured out how to take care of the tiny person who was an unexpected, but entirely perfect, extension of your imperfect self.
It wasn't a daydream you let yourself indulge in. To imagine what it would be like if you and Bradley were you and Bradley. Not separated by three little letters but joined by them instead.
Your tender heart was already too delicate.
He was the devastatingly handsome man who people assumed was her father- your husband, your partner- on your days out together at the beach, at the zoo, at the grocery store, and at the hanger on base when the two of you waited to welcome him home from deployments with handmade signs covered in doodles and dripping in glitter glue.
Your almost family.
He was yours for now, until he had one of his own.
You watch as the startled look on his face flickers and settles into something softer.
“No, sweet girl. Not quite, but-” Bradley starts, his eyes tender as he looks at her.
He’s already done so much for you, but this was something you had to handle on your own. You might crack, but you wouldn’t shatter.
You’re quick jump in, cutting him off, ignoring the twist of your heart in your chest, “No, peanut. He’s just your Uncle Rooster.”
The term didn’t feel big enough for who he was and what he meant to you. But it would have to do.
“Ok,” you daughter chirps with such simple acceptance. The kind that only a child so young can say with such easy unbothered surety, still soft and sheltered from the world.
You release the breath you were holding as her half-melted ice cream cone claims her attention once again. And then give Bradley a small smile, it's too hard to look at him when the sun bounces off of his wavy strands like that, before you turn your focus back on your own scoop of chocolate cherry chip.
There was no doubt in your mind, the question would come up again later. But for now your answer was enough.
Someday there might be another someone who would love you both in equal measure, but you weren’t in a rush to find them. You had all you needed.
You savor the feeling of your sweet ice cream as it melts on your tongue, listening to the waves as they meet the shore. Content in the glow of the setting sun and warmth of being surrounded by your two favorite people.
Your daughter and your Bradley.
Her Uncle Rooster.
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Bradley didn’t know what to say when the miniature mirror of you, the one with the same nose that scrunched the same way when she laughed, asked if he was her father.
It was something that came up from time to time when he was lucky enough to tag along with your dynamic duo. Usually from well-meaning grandmas with warm smiles complimenting his lovely family. He’d never felt the need to correct them about the labels because the two of you were his family.
He knew your routines, he knew your likes and dislikes better than his own. He was the one who had been there to see her first smile, to cheer for her when she took her first steps. It was his name and phone number that were listed in the emergency contacts for you and for her.
Being with the two of you was so much more than he’d ever imagined it would be when he’d cradled her in his arms and whispered his promise to alway look after you both the day she was born, as you’d slept soundly next to him in the uncomfortable hospital bed exhausted from your efforts.
But looking at you now with the golden sunset illuminating your face and the little girl next to you kicking her legs as she happily licked her ice cream cone, he liked the promise future he saw in front of him. He loved the potential of what could be.
This could be more, this could be permanent, this could be forever.
It would be more than just a picture perfect moment. It could be such a picture perfect life.
He had been there for it all, he wanted to see it through to the end.
He didn’t want to miss a moment.
He didn’t want to miss his moment.
Bradley hadn’t been entirely sure how he was going to answer when he started speaking, but he knew what he wanted.
With the two of you, he could have it all.
And he’ll never forget the way air had left his lungs and his stomach dropped when you called him Uncle Rooster.
He already knows the what-ifs and if-onlys will be the newest companions to the list of things that keep him up at night.
The sound of the crashing waves was drown out by the ringing in his ears, as his double scoop of vanilla ice cream melted around his fingers steadily dripping onto the cement sidewalk beneath his feet.
The sunlight hitting the two of you is no less golden than it was before as he scooped up your quickly fading daughter from the bench overlooking the beach that the three of you had been sharing, her little arms reaching up for him. The thrill of her fourth birthday and the sugar crash catching up with her after such a big day.
That ache in his hollow chest is soothed by the way she burrows her little face into his neck, her sticky fingers curling into the front of his shirt.
He still could be a dad. He still could be a husband.
Just maybe not hers. Just maybe not yours.
This moment with your daughter snuggled against him and you tucked under his free arm on the way back to the Bronco, was still picture perfect, but only if he didn’t look too close.
The two of you would always be his family, in one way or another, and he hopes he will always belong to yours.
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Thank you for reading! Feel free to send @gretagerwigsmuse your therapy bill, this is her fault.
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holdmytesseract · 6 months
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Could you please do tom x reader where they are friends to lovers? Maybe the pretend boyfriend that turns real? Smutty and fluffy?
Hide & Seek
Tom Hiddleston x fem!Reader
Summary: Tom asks you to accompany him to Ben's birthday party. On the way there, you get stuck in traffic. A misunderstanding reveals long harboured feelings and things come how they had to come...
Warnings: mutual pining, thirst, fluff, jelousy? a misunderstanding, smuttish/suggestive stuff
Word Count: 3,1k
a/n: You guys wanted it and I am a woman of my words, so... Here it is! 🫡
I hope you like what I wrote for you @huntress-artemiss . 🥰 And I hope that everybody else enjoys it of course, too!
Tags: @lady-rose-moon @muddyorbsblr @smolvenger @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @jennyggggrrr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @evelyn-kingsley @vanilla-daydreaming @loz-3 @fictive-sl0th @lovingchoices14 @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @lulubelle814 @mandywholock1980 @november-rayne @chantsdemarins @simping-for-marvel @lou12346789 @lokiforever @multifandom-worlds @hisredheadedgoddess28 @vbecker10 @jaidenhawke @km-ffluv @crimson25 @cakesandtom @buttercupcookies-blog @salvinaa @javagirl328 @dustychinchilla74 @frzntrx @coldnique
Masterlist °☆• Hiddles Masterlist
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You heard the familiar 'ding' sound of your phone; announcing the arrival of a new message. With a hairpin pinned between your teeth and one hand in your hair, you quickly scooted over to your little make-up table, on which you had left your phone. Tapping on the screen, you immediately saw the message popping up.
'I'm here, darling. Are you ready? x'
You smiled, fixated your hair and quickly unlocked your phone; texting back.
'Almost. :) Gimme five mins, Tommy. x'
Not wasting any time, you applied some decent make-up, gave yourself a once over in the full-length mirror, grabbed the things you'd need and made your way towards the main door of your small, cosy house.
You had promised Tom - your best friend since you were teenagers, to accompany him to the birthday party of Ben. He didn't want to go alone - and you couldn't say no, of course. You never could say no when it came to Tom. Never. You'd anything for him. He was one of the most important people in your life. He was your sunshine on a rainy day. Your lighthouse in the raging storms. A safe haven to which you could always return.
A lot of people told you that this friendship wasn't going to last. After all, Tom was an actor. A famous actor. And you were just... you. But you proved them all wrong. The friendship lasted; survived every sharp turn, bump and crash on the way. A deep bond was formed; stronger than everything you ever experienced - and yet you were just best friends. Sure there had been opportunities to take this friendship to another level and turn it into something more, but neither of you took the opportunity.
You couldn't deny, though, that you had developed strong feelings for the handsome Brit over the years. Romantic feelings. How could somebody not fall for a man like Tom? He was a charming, kind, funny, talented, handsome gentleman with a heart of pure gold. You didn't dare to confess your feelings, because you didn't want to lose your best friend. Better have him as a best friend in your life than not at all, right?
So, the years flew by. Boyfriends came and boyfriends went. Just like with Tom. It was a heart wrenching pain whenever you met Tom's new girlfriend - and you hated it, but what were you supposed to do? All you wanted for him was happiness; but neither of you seemed to find happiness - at least when it came down to romantic relationships...
Another 'ding' of your mobile ripped you out of your thoughts. Shaking your head softly and trying to focus again; you opened the door and stepped out - only to almost stumble back inside.
A soft, cool breeze brushed past you; swirling your beige dress around your knees. The smell of rain hit your nose and some dark clouds hung in the sky; shielded the sun from shining down on you.
That wasn't what took your breath away, though. It was Tom, who stood not far away from you. Just a few meters; legs crossed, leaning casually against his black Jaguar with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his suit trousers.
Speaking of trousers... He was wearing a dark blue suit. Black dress shoes shone against the wet pavement; suit trousers hugging his long legs and hips snugly - held together by a black leather belt. The matching dark blue shirt wasn't any less tight; tailored perfectly for his lean yet strong upper body and forcing the small buttons to hold on for dear life. A tie and suit jacket in the exact same colour completed his look.
You swallowed a thick lump; had a hard time to control yourself and the rapidly beating heart within your chest. Luckily, Tom wasn't looking your way and didn't notice your distress. His gaze was directed to the street as he watched the cars drive by. The position showed off his ridiculously beautiful face; sharp jawline, high cheekbones - peppered with soft and fuzzy looking facial hair of his three-day beard. Tom's wild, blonde-brown curls had gotten so long; a hairsbreadth away from touching his broad shoulders. He looked like a prince, straight out of a fairytale book; combined with the perfect image of a photo shoot.
You bit your lip painfully hard; trying desperately to suppress the moan which threatened to slip past your lips.
It was insanely hot - and Tom didn't even notice the impact this had on you.
"Hey, Tommy," you finally greeted him; attracting his attention. Sure, you could've stared longer and admire the fine man he was, but you didn't want him to accidentally look and notice...
His head whipped around towards you; baby blues meeting your Y/E/C ones. "Hello, darling." A smile spread across his face, as he made his way over to you; giving you a hug. The hugs he gave his other friends didn't last quite as long as the hugs he gave you... You just didn't notice.
"Are you ready?" You nodded; smiling. "I was born ready. You should know that by now." You loved to tease him from time to time. Tom just chuckled; shaking his head. "I won't start now to recount the times you weren't ready. Let's go." You just giggled and followed your best friend to the car.
Being the gentleman the Brit was, he held the door open for you to sit inside his Jaguar. Once you were both seated, Tom started the engine and drove off towards the party.
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Unfortunately, was the traffic on this fine Friday evening very bad; causing the both of you to get stuck. Like... Really stuck. Everything stood still. The little highway you were driving on was closed.
"Ugh, great... Now we'll be surely late to the party..." Tom gave you an apologetic look. "Apologies, Y/N/N... I should've taken the other route when I had the chance. Now it's too late... Can you text Ben?" He asked you, handing you his phone; gaze fixated on the cars in front of him. You shook your head, "No need to apologise, Tommy. You couldn't know. But yeah, I'm gonna text him." and unlocked Tom's phone as if it was your own. Not that you knew each other's password by heart... "Thank you, darling."
You tapped on WhatsApp, searched Ben's contact and entered the chat. Of course you tried hard to not read the last messages he received and sent to give your best friend some privacy, but when your eyes caught a glimpse of a text just above the text box you were writing your text in, you couldn't help but to look. You knew it was wrong, but before you were able to stop yourself, it was already too late and your gaze wandered...
Ben: So... You're gonna take her finally home then, right??
Tom: What, I- Ben stop that. I... I can't just do that. I don't think she'd want that... Me...
Ben: Friend... Are you kidding me? It's obvious she wants you.
Tom: You, uh, think so?
Ben: Know so. Shoot your shot, man, before it's too late...
You didn't have to read more. Swallowing hard, you stared at the messages for a moment. You knew exactly who Tom and Ben were obviously talking about... Chloe. A woman Tom had met on set a few months back. She was - well, is one of the costume designers and therefore saw Tom quite often. Someday, they started to talk during a break and well... According to Tom the sparks had been flying. He had told his best friend everything, of course - while you wished he hadn't. You tried to be happy for him - like you always did when he met a new woman, but... As much as you tried, your head never could win the battle against your heart. It was an undefeatable opponent. A invulnerable fortress.
You never met Chloe - and yet you despised her wholeheartedly. It wasn't fair, of course, but love had turned you into a monster.
"Y/N? Hey, Y/N/N."
You flinched and snapped out of your thoughts as Tom's soft velvet voice urged to your ears. "Is everything alright?" You blinked, nodded, "Yeah, sure. Sorry, I, uh, just drifted off." and sent the text. Giving him a fake smile, you exited the app and handed him his phone back. "Are you sure?" "Yep. Everything's good, Tommy."
You hated to lie to him, but you couldn't just tell him the truth now, could you?
'Hey, Tommy, I'm sorry but I spied on your texts and saw that one message, saying that you are going to obviously shag that bitch Chloe and now I'm kinda jealous, because it should be me instead!'
Nope, certainly not. But you also couldn't shake that thought of. It occupied you. A lot. Your brain thought about it non-stop; causing your heart to crack and shatter even more with every passing minute. You could not stand the thought of another woman in Tom's life. In his home. His bed. His heart.
You tried your best to put on a brave face, but your best friend wasn't blind. Neither stupid. He knew you better than you probably knew yourself...
At first the Brit didn't say anything. Given the fact that you clearly told and signalled him that you didn't wish to talk. But at some point, an undeniable, unpleasant tension started to built up between you both. Almost like an imaginary wall... It felt like every untold word, every unspoken feeling had pent up over the last weeks, months - years and were now about to culminate in the middle of an upcoming rain storm. Right here, right now; while being stuck in traffic.
Tom just couldn't take it any longer. He needed to know what had turned everything upside down all of a sudden. Why everything felt so wrong at this very moment.
"Y/N?" He asked you carefully once again. "I know you said everything is okay - and I feel that you clearly don't wish to speak to me, but-" "No, really, Tom. It's all good," you interrupted him once more; giving him another fake smile - and you could tell at the look of his face, that he had seen immediately through that fake smile. But before he was able to say something, you intervened; only digging the gaping hole in your heart deeper.
"Did you go on a date with Chloe?"
Tom frowned; was clearly confused of the sudden change of topic. "Y-Yes, but-" "Great. How did it go?" "Um, great, I-I guess, but why are you-" "Good. That's good. I'm happy for you Tom." You swallowed hard; feeling your heart scream in pain - but no matter how hard it hurt you, you just had to know what happened between them. You wanted to spare yourself the double gut punch. Might as well feel all the pain at once.
"But, Y/N... Why-" You chose not to leave him any space to question you and just get over with it. "Did you kiss her?" "W-What?" "Touch her?" "T-Touch her? Why would I-" "Sleep with her?" "I-" "Was she at least good in bed?" You kept on bombarding your best friend with questions. "Y/N-" "Was she, huh?" "Y/N, I-" "Did she made you cu-"
"Y/N!"
Tom suddenly exploded; screamed out your name and slamming his hands on the steering wheel of the Jag. He clearly had heard enough; couldn't listen to this any longer.
You went silent; didn't even dare to breathe for a second.
"I didn't sleep with her! I didn't touch her! Goddammit, I didn't even kiss her! Nothing happened between us! Nothing!" The Brit took a deep breath; trying to calm himself down again. You just stared at him; mouth closed shut.
"Yes, we met. Yes, it was great. But I wouldn't even call it a date. We talked and drank a glass of wine. Nothing more." You swallowed hard. "B-But, I-I thought you and Chloe were-" "A thing? No. We're not, Y/N." You blinked; were quite stunned at the sudden turnout of this situation - and once more was your mouth quicker to speak than your brain was able to think and so it came how it had to come...
"About who did you and Ben talk about then in your chat, if not Chloe?"
It slipped past your lips - and you immediately regretted it; afraid of Tom's reaction.
Tom's eyes widened to the size of plates; hands twitching to grip the steering wheel tight, while his cheeks turned beet red. The Brit had not thought about this conversation he had with his his friend - and now you knew.
"Shit, Tom, I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to spy on your chats, I-I just saw it a-and was wondering about who-"
"You."
You blinked once more. "W-What?"
Tom turned to face you again; oceanic blue eyes meeting your Y/E/C ones.
Now or never, Tom thought.
"You, Y/N. We were talking about you."
You could've sworn that your heart skipped more than just one beat at his words. "M-Me?" You squeaked out; pointing at yourself. "Me?" "Yes. You. And the party today." Your eyes widened; jaw slacking in disbelief. "Y-You wanted to... Me?" Tom nodded; smiling nervously. "I always just wanted you, darling. No other woman on this earth is able to compare to you. My heart fell for you a long time ago. It belongs to you. Always has. Always will. I was just too afraid to tell-" Before he was able to finish his sentence, you had pulled him closer by the lapels of his stupidly sexy suit jacket and literally slammed your lips on his.
Tom was definitely shocked and overwhelmed at first, but he immediately relaxed; sighed in the kiss and pulled you as close as somehow possible with the car interior being quite a bit in the way.
All suppressed feelings and emotions finally broke free and melted into that very kiss. It felt like getting hit by an 18-wheeler truck and floating through heaven at the same time. It was a beautiful, chaotic mess, which the both of you enjoyed every second of - and tempted you to indulge into kiss after kiss after kiss.
You felt how your heartbeat quickened at the feeling of love and desire for the man beside you, as they were finally able to flood your body; veins pulsating with a dangerous mixture of endorphins and oxytocin - and Tom's musky smell, combined with the fruity blood orange and leather touch of his perfume didn't help at all. It made everything worse, without a doubt. Resisting Tom had been always difficult - but now that the chains were broken, it was impossible. And why should you stop yourself? There was no holding back anymore. The cards laid on the table.
You pushed Tom back into the driver seat; catching him by surprise. Your hand started to play with his tie; quickly undoing it. Tom's eyes watched your fingers tracing the buttons of his shirt; steadily wandering lower as he was swallowing hard. "Darling, w-what... what are you- Woah!" Tom had clearly anticipated that your hand would land at a place where he had often imagined it to be late at night, when he was all alone at home. But it didn't. You gave his belt a soft tug, but then moved your hand over his thigh and down to where the lever was, which allowed his seat to slide back; bringing even more space between him and the steering wheel.
Another thing the Brit hadn't seen coming - just like the next move you made.
Within the blink of an eye, you had slipped out of your high heels and elegantly swung yourself over; sitting on your former best friend's lap. It caused your dress to ride up your thighs - and Tom's eyes to widen. He literally froze in place; realising in which position you just brought yourself and him. You placed your hands on his shoulders, tugging at his suit jacket; trying to get him to shrug it off - what he did. "Y/N, w-what are you doing?" Tom knew of course very well what you were doing, but he needed to hear it. "What does it look like? I'm, uh, saving the car and riding you instead."
Tom's eyes almost popped out of his head at your bold words. Nevertheless, he couldn't deny that it stirred something deep inside him. And his dress pants.
"Darling, I-I don't know if we should do this here, I-" You raised a playful eyebrow at him.
"Oh, Tommy please... Don't be so shy now. You can't tell me that you never imagined doing this..." You leaned in closer; whispering into his ear: "Me. On top of you." The Brit couldn't help the moan which slipped past his lips. "I-I did, I-," he panted out; feeling one of your hands opening his belt; metal clinking. "See? Besides, the windows are tinted. Nobody's going to see this. Plus, we are stuck anyway, so... What are you waiting for?" You asked in a hushed voice; tracing your lips down his pulse point. "Touch me."
Another breathy moan escaped Tom's lips; big hands flying up to grab your bare thighs and working on slipping your dress even higher up your hips. His warm, slightly sweaty palms sent a shiver down your spine; nerve ends sizzling with desire.
"I-I've wanted this for so long, now, darling." Tom whispered; pressing his forehead against yours. "And now that I can finally have it - you... It's so surreal and- Oh fuck..." Tom's hands started to tremble; eyebrows slanting and mouth forming into a perfect 'o' as you lowered yourself on him. Only your lips messily entangling themselves with his seemed to bring him out of his haze.
"I love you, Tommy. I love you. I always have," you whimpered; body jolting with love and pleasure. His soft beard scratched the skin of your cheek, as he buried his head in the crook of your neck; lips marking you as his.
"I love you, too, darling. With all my heart. I'm yours." He lifted his head once more; glassy blue eyes gazing deeply into your soul. "Now let me love you. Let me make love to you." You smiled deliriously and raked your fingers through his long, blonde-brown curls. "I beg you to, Tommy."
And when he started to move, the world around you faded. All you could think and feel was Tom.
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theredofoctober · 3 months
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RUMPLESTILTSKIN— An Oliver Quick/Reader Saltburn DarkFic
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Pairing: Oliver Quick/You, Oliver Quick/Reader (no gender specified, terms like pretty are used though just to mention)
Synopsis: Oliver finds You, the awkward guest at his birthday party, and takes what his dark heart desires.
Trigger Warnings (PLEASE READ): noncon, blood play, Oliver just being evil
Fic under the cut, keep reading
"Who are you, then?"
It was the small man that said it, the one with the slurring Nothern accent and eyes like ice picks, palely sharp.
You'd seen him swaying on the outer edge of the party, seeming both drunk and far too sober, all at once.
His face was odd, flat, and sleek, like a trickster in a German folk story: thief of children, bringer of gold.
You hated the boy in a moment, drawing back from him against a trellis, your hands wrapped fast through the slats. His eyes made you wish you'd drunk rather less than you had done, silver as scissor blades in the swelling night.
"I'm one of Venetia's friends," you said, though you knew Felix more, and Farleigh rather better than you liked to. "You don't know me. Who are you?"
The boy stepped around a plant pot, his balance the measure of sobriety. He wore deer antlers with an open-chested white suit, embroidered with leaves, the dress of a more handsome man. Only the slopes of his cheekbones, the soft mouth were beautiful.
His eyes made an autopsy of you. There was nothing in them but wanting, a starving colour. An absence of it.
You would have turned to run, only there was nothing then to fly from that made sense.
"I'm Oliver," said the young man. "It's my birthday party. Felix's family arranged it all for me."
"Happy birthday," you said, at once, a reflex.
You wished that he'd go away, that he would edge into the maze like a shadow thrown by the sun, and meld with the dark of the leaves beyond. Anything but approach as he did then, his compact form eating of the air between you with carnivorous haste.
He was slight enough that you thought you might push him down or aside with little effort, but the poise of him, as delicate as a barber's blade, gave you pause. He'd cut you if you touched him, you thought. Something would happen, and you would run crying as you had from a dozen birthday celebrations as a child, unwanted.
He brought that old vulnerability up out of you, somehow, though he hadn't yet done much but broach the most innocent of smalltalk.
"How come you're over here, on your own?" asked Oliver, his head at a sympathetic incline. "You're too pretty for that. You know that, don't you?"
His voice was a sing-song croon, then, all silken menace. He was trying to charm you, you knew that, yet you saw as though through the beads of a brothel doorway the hunger in him, the appetite of worlds.
You glanced right and left, realising, with an awful start, how very drunk you were, swaying and stupid with it.
"I needed some fresh air," you said, with a high, braying laugh— Oliver half-smirked at the sound of it, knowing its falseness, knowing your fear. "All that bloody champagne went right to my head."
"You'll need someone to look after you, then," said Oliver, and then he uttered your name, making a baleful ditty of its syllables.
How had he known it? Had he known it all along?
You'd glimpsed him watching you, before, an empty glass in hand, attaching himself to your heels like a stoat after a rabbit, all lithe cunning on the hunt. Likely he'd heard your name then, as Felix had bent down to kiss your cheek, all affable golden looks. Heard it, and slipped it into the pocketbook of his mind to tear free, when it was needed.
Your name was pretty on Oliver's tongue, sugar, and ribbon, and stained glass, as apt to break. Happily you'd have taken the pieces and cast them all out into the riverbed, have gone nameless rather than hear him speak it again.
"You don't know anyone else here, do you?" asked Oliver, and there was the word again, no longer ribbon, but rough as a noose, strangling as he came closer still. "Just the Catton family. Something in common, me and you."
You lurched vaguely to the right, and Oliver's arm came up against the trellis, gently, a tender trap.
"You're lonely," he said. "Haven't you always been, though?"
His face was close enough for you to note the punctuation of a mole on his right cheek, the lines at his brow, the riddled literature of him. What he saw in yours was a portal to the past, all features from the nervous mouth to the twitching eyelids telling of a once bullied child, an outcast brought in through charity from the cold.
"Go away, Oliver," you said, bravely. "I want to be alone. I can't breathe."
That was true enough. You were stifled in your plastic wings and ill-fitting garments, sweating and airless, almost wanting to be sick.
Oliver drew his face nearer, and your throat closed to the breadth of a lock in your dread of him, of those ink spill eyes.
"I don't want you to breathe," he said. "Not right now."
Then he darned his lips to yours, their heat, their softness like the death of summer blooms, and you pressed back into the trellis so hard that you thought the wood might break, so brittle did it seem.
You brought up your hands to battle his shoulders, only for them to be joined with his, your fingers tangling, a torsion of slick skin and bone.
There were no thoughts that survived the cruelty of Oliver's embrace, the insistence of his compact strength, the length of tongue, of arousal under clothing, at your thigh. You wanted to snap free of him like a spell, but he kissed you until your fight withdrew in sight of its fair winner.
No one came close enough to see you, or if they did they thought you drunken lovers, poised to consummate your pash against the fence.
At last Oliver moved back his head, the reflection of the night's obsidian in his mortuary eyes.
"Let me go," you whispered. "I don't want to do this. I don't want you."
"Well, I want you, though," said Oliver, with an authority that frightened you in its unshifting weight. "And since nobody else here does, what's the point in saying no?"
His hands, little and wicked, wore their way under clammy layers of clothes. In all the heat they were almost cold, dragging from you a series of ragged gasps that were lost in the revelling darkness.
You wished the wings at your back were feathered, those of swans; they'd have broken the bones in his arm and you out of this, far lovelier a transportation than the sticky taxi that would bear you home in the hours to come.
Yet had such pretty things hung from your back this beast named Oliver would have bitten them off and flossed their quills through his teeth, you knew it.
He touched you until his findings were of stolen treasure, watching your every tendon solidify to strands of stone through the art of such fell grief.
"You weren't what I came looking for tonight, you know," he said. "But you're mine, anyway."
You didn't answer, imagined any word drowned like a cat in the depths of him.
Oliver stepped into you with a dancing softness and kissed you again, sucking a plum welt into your lower lip, breaking it between his teeth to blood. Again you struck your hands against him, but Oliver, with liquid instinct, pushed your arms back through the apertures in the trellis, caring little for the splinters in your wrists, if at all.
Crucifixion could not be so painful, so martyring as your capture beneath him.
"Oliver," you said, and he smiled.
"That's me. The birthday boy. And what does the birthday boy get?"
He opened your costume with the hook of four fingers, touched the bruised rose of princely lips to your ear.
His breath was smoke, and champagne, and stolen blood.
"I get what I want," he said, and then his cock was an arrow at the heart of your waiting horror, his slight hips a harp played against you, moving in the strum of entry, into the gold he made of your pain.
You screamed, and the sound was devoured by the bacchanal night. Oliver took you slowly, with patient intelligence, feeling each trembling agony of your body and twisting it, by sorcery, into something else. His eyes were a witch's orbs through which he knew you, psychic, solipsistic—
You were ivy about the wand of him, a thing that would poison the man, were he not immune to its effects. He fucked you as though he thought it romantic, somehow, this violence in a friend's pungent garden, the scent of flowers and trodden grass and arousal a perfume to woo.
There was blood on both of your faces, on his bare chest, under the blazer. It frightened you, suddenly, a tarot spread of death in the summer night—
Your panic, the heaviness of lingering champagne, the attack like Zeus upon a swan; all of it made you limp, in Oliver's grip.
He paused in his taking of you to hold you upright, studying your face under the Midas yellow of a nearby lamp.
"Stand up straight for me, now," he said. "And look at me. Look at me."
He tapped your cheek— not a slap, far too soft for that, as though the concern in the vicious gossamer in his voice was real.
"You want me to make you feel good about yourself. Need me. Don't you?"
"No," you said, but as Oliver kissed you again, and a firework shrieked somewhere against your eardrum, you lost what temporary power you'd had to resist him.
Like a spindled sleeper you endured his lovemaking, swallowed his tongue like a precious key. Your body was a pulse in deep water, stirred by hands and cock into a dripping arc.
Oliver moaned against your tattered lips, his arms about you in embrace. The heat of him would follow you, afterwards, the haunting of his lust's smoke from dream to dream.
He moved away from you, aided you in pulling your arms back through the trellis. For a moment he tried to hold you, his murmuring at your hair, its comfort indistinct.
Then, as you ripped him from you like the segment of a rotten apple he wiped himself clean of your blood; the rag he used was something torn from your garments in the fury of his love, a token of it. A thread from the maze.
You sat down in the grass and stared up at Oliver, seeking some answer. Assistance from the breaker of will.
"Go home," he said, at last. "Felix doesn't want you. And now—"
Oliver shook his head, and the peat fire of his eyes was of the underworld, then, of sapphire death gone to ash.
"I don't want you either. Not anymore."
Then he turned from you, and walked away, towards the house, his fey shape a shadow puppet on the wall.
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jawabear · 1 year
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V day gifts for us both
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader
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Not my GIF
A/n: happy valentines to my love, Kyle. God he’s so hot. i think today is pointless but it makes for good prompts i guess. so heres a filthy kyle smut because i want his cute little ass all to myself.
Genre: S M U T
Warnings: AFAB!Reader, Switch!Kyle, switch!reader, dom/sub themes, anal, pegging, toys, 69 position, face sitting, overstimulation, mention of eating, slight sir kink, ma'am kink, pet names, begging
Summary: An innocent date night turns to something far from being innocent...
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Kyle💕💕
Dress up nice for me baby. See you at 7 😘😘
It was a somewhat ominous message to receive from your boyfriend when you took into account the fact he had been gone all day. He left early only saying he would message you later, he did that at least, but there was no other information presented to you. 
You had been pondering the message all day since then. He didn’t reply to your messages, he didn’t even see them. It worried you a little but you knew he wouldn’t let you down. He would see you at 7. 
You clock watched as you got ready. Putting on a small bit of make-up and one of his favourite outfits of his. It was probably the nicest one you owned so it certainly first the dress code he gave you. But it was at this point, as you looked over yourself in the mirror, that your stomach began to churn nervously. You didn’t know why. You had been out with him many times before. He was your boyfriend for god sake. But you were nervous about why he had made this date. 
It wasn’t an anniversary, not one that you knew of anyway. It wasn’t his birthday and it wasn’t yours. Maybe ti was something to do with work? Had he been ranked up? Given a medal or something? However, on second thought, Gaz was known in your relationship to spring random date nights on you for no apparent reason. This was most likely one of them. 
You let out a breath and nodded to yourself, happy with the choice of outfit and moved out to the living room where you sat and waited. Wait to see him at 7. Your eyes couldn’t move from the clock, watching the seconds tick by. Your leg bouncing nervously and your hands wringing together. 
“Stop it (Y/N)” you said to yourself “its just a date. Its Kyle”
With that, a knock sounded at the door. You checked back at the clock after having looked away for a split second to scold yourself. Sure enough, it read 7pm. You stood from the sofa and brushed over your outfit to straighten it out. You let out another breath and walked to the door. 
Opening the door was like opening up a present. That present being the most handsome, beautiful man in the world standing there looking sharp as ever. He had gone for a black turtle neck shirt and a gorgeous navy blue suit jacket and trousers. It was a tight fit on him and perfectly excentuated his arms. 
“Wow” he let out a low whistle as he looked you up and down “you really got my message babe”
“You like it?” You asked him.
“You know I do” he leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to your lips. “Now you compliment me. I tried hard to pull this together” 
“You’ve worn it before”
“I have not” he feigned hurt “I just have one very very similar. So similar its almost the same” 
You chuckled and ran you hands over the smooth fabric of the blazer. “You look amazing, Kyle. You always do though” 
He kissed you again. And again. And just once more before offering his arm to you “shall we, my love?” 
“We shall” you smiled. 
-
“So,” you began as you took a sip of your drink “are you planning on telling me what this is all about?” 
“Am I not allowed to spend time with my lovely lady?”
“You are, but I feel like this time there is a reason” 
“Alright, you caught me” he held his hands above his head “I’m not going to be here fro valentines this year so thought we could do something now. Have a special night together”
“Kyle” you smiled “that’s sweet. But you know I don’t care about valentines day”
“I know but doesn’t mean I can’t treat you to a nice meal and make you feel special” he smiled a little sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. Is it too much?” 
“No” you smile as you reached over the table to grab his hand in yours. “No Kyle, it’s perfect. You’re perfect. You’re so sweet to do this. I love you so much” 
“I love you too babe” he leaned over the table and pressed a long kiss to your lips. He didn’t care that you were in a busy restaurant, right next to the window where anyone could walk past and see him. He never cared. He wanted everyone to know you were his and he was yours. He wanted everyone to know how much he loved you. 
You felt like a school girl when he sat back down, giggling like a maniac. He had such a hold over you, making you feel giddy after every kiss he gave you. Gaz laughed too and sipped at his drink. He picked up his knife and fork again to eat and pointed the fork to your plate. 
“Eat up babe, you’ll need your energy for tonight” he shot you a wink making your cheeks flush. You and Gaz had had many bedroom adventures. Perhaps having done almost everything sexual you could imagine. So at this point it was just a question of which of your favoured activities would you be embarking in tonight? 
The anticipation of that always made you crazy with arousal. “Do I get a hint?” 
“Do you ever?” He raised an eyebrow and smirked at you. No was the answer. He never gave anything away. That just made it all the more mind blowing. 
“I thought that as it was a special night, you could make an acceptation?” You lifted your foot to stroke lightly up and down his leg. He shot you a look and whipped his head around the restaurant to see if anyone was looking “oh, so now you’re concerned about the public?” 
“I just don’t want them to see my cock hard for you babe” you let out a chuckle. 
“Good point. Thats only for me isn’t it” you shifted in your seat and moved your hands under the table to pull down your damp panties. You bunched them up in your hand. “And this is only for you” you took his hand again and gave him your panties. 
He tried not to moan. A strangled nose falling from his lips as he shoved them into his pocket. “You little minx. We still have dessert to go yet” he whisper yelled to you. 
“I know what you want for dessert and now you have easy access” you shot him a cheeky wink and moved your foot up to his crotch and rubbed against his erection. He gripped his fork tightly and tried his hardest not to react. You had done public sex before so this teasing was nothing new. But it still lit a fire between you both. Desire was burning in your stomach. 
“You’re lucky this day is about you”
“Or what?” You challenged. 
“Or I’d drag you out of this place back home and fuck you until the sun comes up” 
You leaned forwards on the table, you elbows pressed against the white cloth covering the dark wood. “Who’s to say that isn’t what I want?” You whispered. 
Gaz growled and stormed off to the bar to pay for the meal before whisking you out of the restaurant and back home where he was prepared to fuck you until the sun came up.
You continued to tease him in the car. Touching at his string yet sensitive thigh, ghosting your fingers over his cock making him twitch as shift in his seat. He gripped the steering wheel the way you wished he would grab your throat as he fucked you. You couldn’t help but bite your bottom lip. You hand slipping between your legs, you needed a release from the pent up arousal. 
But Kyle grabbed your wrist and gave you a dark look. The dark, devious look only made more clear by the red traffic light reflecting in his eyes. “That is my pussy to touch. Keep your hands away from it” his voice matched the look in his eyes and it made you moan. 
“Y-yes sir” you panted. “Sorry sir”
“We’re nearly home. Be a good girl for me until then” 
“Yes. I will sir. I’ll be good” 
“I know you will” 
-
You were both laughing like love sick teenagers when you entered your shared flat. He pulled you up the stairs by you hand, both of you laughing the entire time. His lips found yours immediately when you got inside and he kicked the door shut hearing it lock as he did. 
“Thank you for dinner, sweetheart” you whispered against his lips as he stroked up and down your hips. 
“My pleasure” he replied “but the night isn’t over yet. I have something for you” he gave you one last long kiss and pulled you to the bedroom and set you down on the bed. 
He rummaged through his top draw and pulled out a small black box with a silver ribbon tied in what you assumed was a bow. Kyle was never very good at wrapping or tying bows, but your heart swelled at his attempts. You smiled as he handed it to you. 
“What’s this?” You asked shaking the box and heard a rattling inside. 
“A gift. Open it” he bit his bottom lip and looked at you with dark eye. That made your heart flutter. So it was something to use in the bedroom. You knew that look. You knew his tells. 
You carefully undid the ribbon and placed it to the side and lifted the lid to the box. Your cheeks heated a little when you saw the silver vibrator laying there. “Kyle…” you muttered. It was embarrassing to say the least. You already had that one. He had gotten you it as a gift once before. But you supposed that you had some many toys between you that it was easy to loose track of who had what. 
“I know you have it” he said quickly, reading your mind like he usually did  “It’s…it’s for me really. You to use it on me. Thought I’d be cheesy and get one to match. I know its one of your favourites, I want to see what the fuss is about. Size up my competition”
It may have been a weird thing for him to remember. He didn’t know your favourite colour but could pick out your favourite sex toy blindfolded and wear ski gloves (he has done this before. It was a weird night). But it was endearing in a strange way. It showed how much he valued your pleasure. 
“You mean I get to play with your ass tonight?” You smirked as you held the silver bullet in your hand in front of his face. He swallowed and looked at it. Clearly picturing all the things he wanted you to do with it. 
“Yeah…” he breathed. He tugged at his trousers, clearly regretting his choice of tight fit. The fit only getting tighter with every passing moment. He was already hard from earlier but now it was rock solid.
You turned on the vibrator and brought it down to rest against his crotch. “Ah fuck” he moaned. The moan turned into a laugh “I can see why you like it so much. Shit babe”
“It gets better. Trust me” you smiled and kissed him while rubbing the vibe over his crotch. He moaned and whimpered into your mouth and bucked his hips chasing his pleasure. 
But you pulled it away and he almost sobbed. “Fuck you” he muttered mindlessly making you laugh. 
“Soon” you soothe to him as you stand and rid yourself of your clothes. He gapped at you like a fish out of water. Mouth hung open as he stared at your now naked body. He had seen it countless times but it never failed to make him crazy. 
He was quick to take off his own clothes now leaving the two of you completely bare to each other. He leaned in for a kiss but you backed away. He chased after you lips and you grabbed his throbbing cock. “Fuck!” He yelled holding onto your shoulders to stop his knees from giving out. 
“Are you going to be a good boy for me?” You cooed to him as you gently rubbed his length. 
He panted a few times before nodding his head “yes ma’am. I will be a good boy” 
You granted him a kiss he was desperate for  and pushed him to the bed. “On your knees then. Present that pretty ass for me” he swallowed and got on all fours. His back arching as he pressed his chest to the bed, his ass in the air. 
You got behind him and trailed your fingers up the back of his thighs making him whimper into the pillow. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his reaction. How he was the one who was so ready to fuck you senseless only for him to be the one being fucked. 
You stroked a hand over his tight hole watching it clench at the contact. You spat on it and lubed it up before slowly pushing a finger inside him. He whined your name into the pillow as he thrust his hips back, wanting more. You add a second finger and allow him to fuck himself back onto them for a moment. 
Whilst he was doing that, you turned on the vibrator and dragged it over his cock. His hips stuttered and he moaned loudly. You chuckled a little and rubbed it over his length a few more times. Watching the pre come leak from the tip. 
“You’re so pretty, Kyle” you smiled down at him even though he couldn’t see you. “Such a pretty cock. And a pretty little ass” you curled your fingers inside him and he all but screamed into the pillow. “That feel good baby?” You spoke in a patronising way, almost like cooing at a baby. 
“Yes!” He yelled “feels so good ma’am! Please! Please want more!” 
You pulled out you fingers and circled the vibrator around his pulsing hole. “You want this?” You asked. You squeezed his ass cheek and he groaned. 
“Yes! Yes! Please! Please put it in” he begged. You complied. Slowly sinking the silver vibe into his ass. “Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” He swore repeatedly at the stretch and the vibrations racking though his body. Once it was fully inside him you pressed a kiss to it and pulled back. 
“Good boy” you praised. You flipped him over so he was on his back and crawled on top of him “what now then?” You asked as you stroked over his heated cheeks. “Do I not get a reward for being so kind to you?” 
He whined and nodded “S-Sit on my face. Please” your eyes lit up at his words and you wasted no time in climbing onto your new seat. You turned so you could see his twitching cock, you knew you would end up sucking at it soon so best to be in the right position for it. 
Kyle lifted his shaking hands to hold your hips down as you sat on his mouth. He eagerly began to suck and lick at you soaked pussy and you moaned. “That’s it” you praised him, your hands running over his toned chest. “Good boy” he whimpered and thrust his hips up against nothing. 
You stared at his cock, leaking on his stomach, angers read and twitching like hell. It looked so pretty. So desperate to be touched. You could hear the vibrator in his ass. It was rattling his body, making him shake and tremble underneath you. But if it was too much he didn’t let on about it. He keep happily sucking at your pussy while the vibe destroyed him in the most delicious way. 
“You want me to touch your cock?” You asked him, your hands inching closer to his aching cock. He nodded his head quickly, his tongue still lapping at your pussy. “Use your words” 
He shifted on the bed “yes, please touch my cock! I need it ma’am! Please!” He bucked his hips into the air again, his cock slapping against his abdomen. 
You smiled and took his dick in your hand giving it long slow strokes up and down. Up and down. “Oh fuck! Yes!” He cried against your folds. “Feels so good!” 
You picked up your pace, you could feel your own climax ramping up in your stomach. You rolled your hips on his tongue. The slurping noises were vulgar but such a turn on for you both. “Gonna come baby” you sighed, your hand twisting around his cock. Kyle bucked his hips wildly into your hand, he was close too. He had been close for a while but holding back for this very moment. “Come with me. Come with me baby” you rolled your hips faster to match his and you came. You cried out his name as you trembled and watched as he too was a wreck under you. 
Shooting loads of hot come onto his chest and your hand as he came, moaning and whimpering into you pulsing folds. His body writhed as he struggled for breath, the vibrator still rattling his bones. You tried to get off him to let home breathe but he pulled you back down. “N-No ma’am. Come again. Please” he begged sucking at your clit. You were so turned on by destroying his body that you knew it wouldn’t be long until you came a second time for him. 
His cock was still leaking come. His hips struggling to stay still. “In that case…” your voice trailed off as you leaned down to take his cock in your mouth. He bellowed out your name, his head falling back against the pillow. His fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs. 
“(Y/N)!” He cried “please! I’m so sensitive!” You pulled off him briefly.
“Do you want me to stop?” You smirked already knowing the answer. 
“No! Please! Make me come again. Oh god it feels so good” he groaned “your mouth is so perfect babe” 
“Your cock was made for my mouth baby. You were made for me” 
He came. 
It was unexpected but your hot words made him crazy. His head was spinning as he came. His mouth hanging open and panting against your pussy. You weren’t particularly made that he had forgotten to make you come a second time. Seeing him in this state was more than enough to tide you over until you fucked him. Because you would be the one fucking him. 
“Good boy” you kissed his cock and got off the bed. The vibe still purred inside him. He loved the overstimulation though. It was one of the things he enjoyed most in bed. He didn’t know why though. 
You rattled around in the sex toy draw you both shared and pulled out his favoured strap on. The silicone dick had more girth than length, he loved the stretch. But it was the perfect length and the perfect curve to hit his prostate with every thrust. 
You looked over your shoulder at him on the bed. Spread out like a meal for you, his dick still twitching. His mouth hanging out and face heated. “Keep riding that pleasure baby” you cooed to him as you put on the strap. “Makes the next part easier” 
He managed to lift his head and you saw his eyes light up when they landed on the plastic dick. “Oh fuck. Yes!” He crawled to his knees and to you. 
“You want to get it ready for me?” You smirked. He nodded and took it into his mouth, coating it with saliva. It was soaked with his spit when he pulled it out of his hot mouth. You bit your bottom lip as you looked at him. Your beautiful boyfriend. 
You tilted his chin up and pulled his lips to yours in a tender kiss. “What was that for?” He asked, a giddy smile on his face. 
“I love you so much Kyle. I’m so lucky to have you” you whispered as you ran a finger down his cheek.
“I love you too babe” he whispered “I don’t deserve you” 
“Yes you do. You deserve the world” 
“You are my world” you could’ve cried but you had ti stay in character. You would cry later during after care while you told him how much you loved him over and over again. 
You kissed him again and pushed him down to the bed. You spread his legs and pulled out the vibrator. You turned it off and tossed it else where in the room, filling his ass again with the dick. He gripped the sheets and arched his back off the bed. “Fuck me” he whimpered “fuck me hard” 
“Of course” you leaned over him and grabbed the headboard before drilling your hips into him. The headboard banging against the wall, no doubt you would get complaints from you neighbours. Again. But you didn’t care. You were too caught up in the sounds of his moans to care about anything else other than him. 
Kyle looked up at you with pleasing eyes. Neither of you knew what he was begging for but it made your heart flutter. He was so damn adorable. “You’re beautiful” he whispered as he wrapped his legs around your waist urging you to go faster. Deeper. Harder. “So beautiful. Gonna make me come again. Fuck I’m going to come!” 
His head rolled back to the pillow and he lifted his hands to grab your sides, fingertips digging into your flesh. “Come for me Kyle. Come for me” 
It didn’t take long to pull him over the edge for the third time that night. You slowed your hips and carefully pulled out of his abused hole. It fluttered around nothing as he came down from the intense high. You stoked over his body to soothe him until his breathing went back to normal and his body was melted into the covers of the bed. “How was that?” You asked him quietly. 
“So good babe” he sighed with a lazy smile on his face. “You’re so good to me. I don’t deserve you” 
“I already told you” you lay on top of his chest “you deserve the world” 
“And I told you” he trailed a hand up your back “you are my world” 
“Then you do deserve me” you kissed him. A soft quick kiss but conveyed all the emotion you could muster. He hummed into the kiss and moved his hand to your hair. 
“And you deserve to come again” he pulled your head back by your hair and licked up the expanse of your neck. “How do you want me to do it?” He asked “you want my mouth again? My fingers? My cock?” 
The roles were reversed now. It was his turn to have some fun. “What do you want to do?” You asked him. 
He growled against your neck “I want to fuck your pussy with my cock. Give you the same bliss you gave me” you couldn’t help the whine that left your lips as he flipped you onto your back and yanked off the strap on. He tossed it to the floor and spread your legs. “I’m so sorry I’ve neglected you” he spoke directly to your pussy. It fluttered in response. You felt him nudge your soaked fold with the head of his dick before he easily sunk in. “Thats it babe. Such a perfect little pussy. Made for me”
“Yes” you gasp as he began thrusting into you. Long hard thrusts inside you. Oh it felt so good. He always knew just how to fuck you. He brought a hand down to rub quick sharp circles on your clit. You moaned and raised your hips off the bed, you could already feel your orgasm building. “All for you”
“Damn right. This pussy is mine. All of you is mine” he leaned over yo and picked up his pace. “You’re fucking mine” 
“Yes! Yes sir! All for you! Only for you!” You clawed at his back and he groaned, slamming his dick into you and hitting your sweet spot each time. “Yes! Please! Make me come! I’m so close!” 
“Come baby. Come all over my cock like a good little girl” his voice was a low growl and he dropped his head to your neck to bit and suck at your skin pulling you over the edge, your hips bucking against his as he fucked you through your climax. “Good girl. Such a good little girl for me” your wall clenched around his cock and pulled his own orgasm from him. His mind completely blank and his cock spent. 
He slowed his hips but didn’t pull out. He fell on your chest and you stroked over his sweaty skin. “H-How was that?” He panted. 
“Perfect” you whispered with a dazed smile. “I love you so much Kyle” 
“I know” he kissed your chest “I love you too. More than anything. I’m going to miss you when I leave” 
“Lets not think about that right now. I just want to lay here with you” 
“Okay” he said and practically curled against you. “Happy Valentines day, my love” 
“Happy Valentines day sweetheart” you smiled and kissed his head. 
14/2/23
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ravenwitch45 · 1 year
Note
I thought of this because Blitzø and I both love horses and love the movie Spirit. So the mustang that they studied while animating the horse is at a ranch right now and they actually changed his name to Spirit.
Can I request Y/N surprising Blitzø on his birthday by having them both put on human disguises so they can meet the real Spirit?
Oh you cannot get more Horse Stan then this man, and with this specific horse? Your pratically gonna smother him with everything he loves all in a day, I'll do my best with this!
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Blitzo's SO surprising him by taking him to see the real Spirit on his birthday
Blitzo ain't the kind to be all humble about his birthday of course, He says it's coming up a lot around the office, Stolas, and of course you, but he honestly doesn't expect much.
If people remember and wish him a happy one, that's all it takes to satisfy him,
Any gift, parties, or surprises are something he appreciates extremely tho, especially if feel very FOR him if you know what I mean.
So when you find out about the whole situation with Spirit, you know you have to surprise him with it. You talk to Stolas and make sure to master the human disguise spell to make sure to avoid any problems and you plot on how to make it perfect.
He gives everyone the day off, cause working on his birthday is something he'd totally not do. So you wake up finding him looking at his phone, smiling to himself as he sees the happy birthday messages from M&M and Stolas, not knowing your awake yet you sneak up on him and give him a kiss.
"Happy Birthday Handsome, I have a surprise for you~" To which he smirks at first, before raising a brow, questioning what, only getting that'll have to wait til after breakfast.
As if on cue, Loona comes in having cooked up breakfeast in bed for her dad, actually calling him that as she awkwardly wishes him a happy birthday, getting a hug as he near cries tears of joy at that. Serving well to stop him from questioning what you have planned
After breakfast you grab the grimoire, which only confuses him more, but you just stay quiet as you pull him through a portal and put on the disguises. You ruffling up his new hair, saying you'll miss his true form for the moment but that this will be worth it.
He starts to question you again before he recognizes your at a ranch, luckily it's the early morning and no one is working yet so noone to stop him from bursting in and saying hi to all the horses. You just smiling at how cute he is when he get's like this.
You tell him that you still need to keep going for the surprise, which makes him pout "But there all so cute how can I leave them!?"But you drag him along as he pouts more.
Eventually you reach where you need, Him rushing up to the Mustang, "Hey! This guy looks like Spirit from the movie!" He says looking up at the horse like it's the most beautiful thing in the world. You responding "That kinda is Spirit from the movie." The Assassin's jaw drops before he laughs a little "Your so fuckin with me! It just reminded me of it." You then explain that your not, explaining that this was the horse that was an animation reference for the very movie, you've watched over and over with him, and that the horse he's smothering with love is actually named Spirit.
And that... just makes him go silent for a second before hugging you, putting his head on your shoulder as he wraps his tail around you, simply saying a tender thank you, hiding that he's crying at having someone who loves him for all his oddities and interests.
You simply say he's welcome before suggesting you find some feed since you know he loves to feed horses, so you do and you two go around with him getting every horse in the ranch to lick out of his hands which he laughs at every time.
When you guys get back to Spirit, he awkwardly thanks the horse for in a way inspiring him and giving him so much joy throughout the years. He tries to whisper it but you hear him, not teasing him for it tho.
You finish up feeding all the horses and he says goodbye with a kiss to each before you walk out, him hugging you again and thanking you for the great surprise, a great start to his Bday, you kissing him and promising that you have a few other ideas to make the rest great too, your gonna spoil him so bad, and you'll have help<3
I Actually had a lot of fun with this, hope I did this good, still getting used to writing this stuff, but hey, Blitz is one of my faves so happy to spoil him.
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crybqbyme · 8 months
Text
01. Eternal vows - Union ------------------------------------------------------------------------
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synopsis: The story revolves around two individuals, a vampire prince, Lee felix and princess _, who have been bound together in an arranged marriage since birth. As they navigate the challenges of their unique union in the modern world, they discover unexpected feelings and form a connection that transcends their initial obligations.
Pairing: Lee Felix
Genre: Angst/fluff Word count: 2.3k
previous - next
A arrangement made many many moons ago before you were even born. The kingdoms of Sunsuhan, which was led by the Lee’s and kingdom Esteria led by the the Aeryn’s. The kingdoms had been close since Esteria’s democracy turned to a monarchy when the most benevolent individuals in Esteria led the people to freedom. In order to receive protection from the kingdom of Sunsuhan, the second child of the family must marry the second child of the Lee’s. This event will unite the kingdoms and make them one, the kingdom will then be ruled by the couple.
At a young age you were told that you were going to save your kingdom and grant a blessing onto the townsfolk.
At a young age you were told that you were going to get to meet the ‘man of your dreams’ once you reached age 14.
At a young age you were told that you were going to marry the most handsome man at age 20.
At a young age you were told that you were a sacrifice.
At a young age you were told that you were receiving a blessing.
At a young age you were told that you didn’t have a choice in life.
At a young age you learned that you didn’t have a choice…
A rather loud knock interrupted your peaceful slumber. The anonymous individual shouted your name multiple times claiming that you were going to be late. Late? Late for what?
”Yes? What do I owe the pleasure of?” I inquire sounding rather sarcastic,” clearly, not my sleep…”
”My dear princess? Oh good, you’ve awoken from your deep slumber. I hope you slept all write. Um.. what did I come here for again? Oh yes! Happy birthday Princess! Your father would like to meet you at the dining hall.” The servant blabbers on for a few more seconds before leaving me to my thoughts.
Well, as a fourteen-year-old, its best to start of this year with a ‘new-year-new-me’ deal, so might as well be productive and begin getting dressed.
You head into my bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror. Glances through my body start from your hair to your feet, you don’t look any different nor do you feel any older. You go through all of the basics, from brushing your teeth to showering to changing into the outfit laid in front of your dresser. The gown is simply breathtaking, the ensemble was designed to capture the essence of regal elegance. Crafted from the finest silk, it cascades down in a voluminous A-line silhouette, gently hugging the bodice before flowing gracefully to the floor. A shimmering, iridescent sheen graces the fabric, creating an ethereal effect as it catches the light. The gown's waist is cinched with a dainty yet opulent satin sash, adorned with embroidered motifs and tiny pearls. From the waistline, the skirt billows out in layers of cascading fabric, akin to a cascade of moonlit waterfalls. You slip it on and watch as it falls to the floor, the size is fit perfectly no adjustments needed. The measurements must have been taken last week when three maids bombarded you with questions and harshly laid a string of measurement tape around my body.
The dazed stare in your eyes in cut off as the room door opens. A knight steps inside, sir Gregory. He’s been with me since childhood, a sad smile is laced across his face. His arms open up in the direction of the door, holding it out for you. Out of curtsy, a similar smile masks over you feature and I head out the door.
Sir Gregory steps onto your gown, a rather grimacing look is now plastered onto my face, but even at 14, I know not to interfere with the guards.
After a bit of a stroll, you are met with the doors of the dining room. Two intimidating guards appear in front of you and push the door open. You head inside with expectations to see your father and hope for a small visit from your mother, however, you gaze was met by a rather young boy and his two parents. The boys gaze doesn’t meet yours and his parents stare back with a sinister smile.
”Ah! Yes, my dear daughter. I’m glad to see that you have made it.” A fake laugh leaves your father's mouth, “Let me introduce you to Your Majesties, Mr. and Mrs. Lee and their son, prince Felix.”
As if on command, prince Felix lifts his head and smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
You turn your head to them and bow with a confused smile.
As your father beckons everyone to sit down, your gaze is still captured onto Felix’s. Once you find your seat, which is to the right of your fathers, you tilt your head in his direction and mumble something to him.
”Good morning father, might I inquire as to the reason for their presence?” the side of my eyes peering to the strange individuals to the left of me.
”Verily, I sought to apprise thee of this matter at a later hour; however, I deem the present moment opportune. As thou art well cognizant, Felix doth bear the princely title of Sunsuhan, whilst thou, my dear, art the esteemed princess of Esteria.” my father informs alerting the attention of the king and queen, their gaze following mine, “A myriad of years hath passed since an arrangement was forged for thou twain. To unite the nations, thy union in marriage is the decree, that as one united realm, thou shalt reign o'er the lands, ruling both nations in harmony.”
Upon hearing the revelation, a mix of emotions swirls within you. The weight of responsibility and destiny settles heavily on your young shoulders, and you find it difficult to grasp the enormity of the situation. The realization that your entire life has been leading up to this moment, the joining of two kingdoms through your marriage, is both awe-inspiring and daunting.
As your gaze returns to Felix’s you notice his brown eyes look quite different to yours. Instead of uncertainty in his eyes, you notice a flicker of fear in his yet it changes back into a neutral gaze.
Attempting to maintain composure, you give a polite nod to the visiting royals, acknowledging the significance of their presence. Your mind races with questions, a desire to know more about Felix, and whether he shares the same feelings of trepidation and confusion since you can’t read his expressions at all.
“Oh dear princess, I know it must be terrifying to know that you will become a vampire in the future, but we assure you that you have nothing to fear.” the queen replies with a look in her eyes that makes you shrink under her gaze.
“Father… what?”my heart starts pacing, a veil of dread covering my line of vision.
“Don’t test my patience just accept it as it is,” he says.  “Especially after I have constructed a compromise according to your whims, young lady.”
Your brow furrows.  You have no idea where this is going but you know you won’t like it, because you never like it.
After a tense breakfast filled with awkward silences and guarded glances, the final morsels are consumed, and the dining hall clears. As you rise from your seat, still grappling with the overwhelming revelation, your father's voice fills the room once more, commanding attention. With a somber tone, he addresses Prince Felix and his parents.
"Do not leave yet my child, as part of the unification of our realms, it is now time to acquaint you with the rest of the arrangements," he declares, his gaze lingering on you and Felix. "Henceforth, you, Princess, and Prince Felix shall share the same abode. A decision we believe will foster understanding and camaraderie between the two of you."
You don’t even bother to glance a Felix, knowing that his expression will hold no emotion.
Your father continues, "In addition, both of you shall commence your education together at the Royal Academy, a place where knowledge and friendship shall be cultivated side by side."
So, now he's taking over your life?! He’s going to be in your bed, in your school, in your everyday life for the rest of your life…
"Furthermore," your father announces, "when you both reach the age of 18, the engagement shall take place, sealing the bond that will unite our kingdoms in an unbreakable alliance. And at the age of 20, the marriage will come to fruition, symbolizing the harmony between our lands.”
After his speech, you choose to stay silent knowing that the consequences of opening your mouth could result in embarrassment and possibly harm. Cautiously, you lift up your head and peer at my father, he gives me an approving nod and requests Felix to follow behind me with his stuff. As you prepare to leave the room, you can't help but notice the king's demeanor, his expression seemingly tinged with a hint of displeasure. Politely acknowledging him with a nod, you step outside the dining hall. It strikes you that you've had only a brief interaction with Felix, a mere hour at most, hardly enough time for meaningful conversation—more like fleeting glances exchanged. Nervously, you find your hands absentmindedly fiddling with the fabric of your dress, and as you do, a loose pearl comes free, landing softly in your palm.
As your gaze fixates on the pearl, the door opens, and Felix enters the room. You half-expect him to be carrying a suitcase filled with his belongings, but all he has is a simple gray duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Deciding to keep your distance, you lead him through the castle's halls. However, as you traverse the familiar passageways, you can't help but notice an eerie absence—the knights who usually stand guard along the halls leading to your room are nowhere to be seen.
”What the? Where are all the guards?” softly, you find yourself questioning out loud.
Felix’s deep voice makes you jump, “Well princess, since I am a vampire my abilities are more enhanced then the guards that protect you, so instead, I’ll be the one protecting you instead. I hope you do not mind.”
As I spin around, our eyes meet. His gentle smile seems almost deceptive, like a mask hiding something, especially considering the unexpectedly deep voice that emanates from such a young boy. But in the blink of an eye, that warm facade dissipates, replaced by a neutral expression that only fuels my frustration. Why is he so unreadable? Does he know something I don't? Was he aware of the arrangements before I was? The questions churn within me, adding to my growing irritation.
“I do mind. You’re corrupting my life! Wherever I go you’ll be there! What ever I do you’ll be behind me! I don’t understand and I despise you.” your mind goes blank, and without thinking, I unleash a scream at him. But when I meet his gaze again, his reaction surprises me. It's not a hurt expression like I expected; instead, it appears emotionless. Feeling unsettled, I spin myself around and resume the walk to our room, enveloped in a cloud of upset silence.
As we enter the opulent room, an awkward silence hangs in the air.
"So, um, where should I put my stuff?" Felix asks hesitantly, breaking the tension.
You give a half-hearted smile, trying to act nonchalant hoping it made up slightly for your outbreak, "I'll, uh, make some space in the wardrobe." Your mind races with thoughts, but you can't find the right words to express them. The weight of the arranged marriage bears heavily on you, whereas Felix looks like he doesn’t care. As you clear a few hangers for his clothes, you can feel his gaze on me, but you dare not look back. This whole situation is just too overwhelming, and the silence between us only amplifies the uncertainty.
“Is this enough space?” you question, sparing him a side glance.
”Yes, thank you.” he mutters as he walks past me.
As night draws near, a sense of curiosity about Felix takes hold of me. The events of the day have been overwhelming, and amidst the chaos of arrangements and revelations, I can't help but wonder about the young prince who will now be a constant presence in my life. As I sit in my room, the grandeur of the castle surrounds me, but my thoughts are consumed by the enigma that is Felix.
My father summons us to join him for dinner. The atmosphere during the walk to the dining hall is heavy with an awkward silence, broken only by the sound of our footsteps echoing through the castle's corridors. Upon entering the grand dining hall, we find my father as the sole presence at the table. His keen gaze assesses both of us before gesturing for Felix and you to take your seats. A servant stands nearby, awaiting instructions.
My father clears his throat, and the room falls into silence. "I hope you both have had some time to bond over this arrangement," he begins, his tone stern and uncompromising. "You must understand that neither of you has a say in this matter, and any attempt to interfere or voice discontent will carry significant consequences. I shall retire from the room as I have already eaten. Take this opportunity to get to know each other better, for it is clear that communication between you both needs improvement."
With that, he departs, leaving us to face the weight of his words and the reality of our bound destinies. The silence in the dining hall is palpable, now filled with the unspoken tension between Felix and me. Worst. Birthday, Ever.
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peachy-panic · 6 months
Text
Luke and Sebastian Walk Into A Bar
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @hold-him-down !!! Here is this absolute chaos spin-off/crossover event.
NOTE: The characters of Luke Bennett and Leo Evans are entirely Holdy's. I am just borrowing them to play in our shared most-non-canon cinematic universe. Also, our world building details don't always align so adjustments have been made & rules don't count here.
WARNINGS: BBU/BBU-adjacent, alcohol, talk of sexual content, heavy talks of slavery, asshole politicians
“Vodka soda.” Sebastian saddles up to the last seat at the bar, putting the most distance possible between himself and the next patron. 
The place is a dive; dimly lit and underpopulated, both of which are characteristics he actively sought out. It’s been a stressful, exhausting forty-eight hours in Washington D.C., and his social meter has all but depleted. This seems as good a place as any to blow of steam.
Under the bar, he pulls out his phone and types a message. 
Early flight tomorrow. Can’t wait to be home. Everything good?
As usual, the reply comes almost immediately. 
J: everything is good. we are watching a movie. ezra taught me how to sous vide chicken. 
Before Sebastian can type out his response, his phone buzzes again. 
J: I’m glad you’ll be home soon.
Something swells in his chest in the way he’s becoming accustomed to when Jaime decides to say the most casual thing that takes an emotional baseball bat to his heart. He shoots off another message, telling Jaime to sleep well and that he’ll see him in the morning.
Just as he is slipping his phone back into his pocket, a man settling in across the bar catches his eye. Not to be a cliche, but the tall-dark-handsome combination has always done it for Sebastian, and this guy is certainly no exception to the rule.
Their gazes meet just long enough for them to acknowledge each other and… Well, this wasn’t exactly the kind of stress relief he had in mind for tonight, but Sebastian isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. 
Sebastian doesn't consider himself to be particularly good at flirting, even with the crutch of alcohol, but he has learned to navigate this sort of interaction with enough poise to get by. Usually. It was a learned skill, born out of necessity; if you’re going to restrict all intimate interaction in your life to anonymous strangers from a bar, you’ve got to get good at picking them up. 
Still, it’s been a while. Casual sex hasn’t been a big part of his life since Jaime came into the picture, and Sebastian is rusty.
The bartender places his drink in front of him, and Sebastian knocks it back in three long swigs. He slides off of his stool and saunters over to the empty seat beside the stranger.
“Anyone sitting here?” he asks. 
The man angles slightly toward him on his barstool. His dark brown eyes cast a look of approval over Sebastian and a small smile flicks up the corner of his mouth.
“Just you,” he says. 
Still got it, baby. 
“So,” Sebastian tries after a beat of not-entirely-comfortable silence. “You come here often?”
Okay, so maybe he is rusty after all. The handsome stranger raises an eyebrow.
“Zero points for originality.”
“Sorry,” Sebastian says. “I’m usually not this bad at flirting with strangers.”
This earns him a smile Sebastian chooses to read as amused. “Is that what you’re doing?”
“Trying to? I’m not usually this sober when I attempt it.”
“That, I can help with. What are you drinking?”
“What’s that?” Sebastian asks, pointing to the man’s drink. 
“Whisky.”
He grimaces. “Nevermind. I’ll take a vodka soda.”
The man waves down the bartender with the air of someone who has been here before. When Sebastian has his drink in hand, he angles his stool toward the stranger. “I’m Sebastian,” he says.
Something hesitant flickers over his expression, just a fleeting moment, before he turns to him with an outstretched hand. “Luca.”
“Wow, a handshake, huh?” Sebastian can’t help but chuckle, even as he meets the firm grip with his own. 
A sheepish smile graces his expression.  “Sorry. Hard to get out of the professional headspace sometimes.”
“What do you do?”
Luca studies him for a moment, eyes darting over his face in search of… something. Finally, he says, “I’m in politics.”
“Ah.” Sebastian nods. “Should have guessed.”
“What about you?”
Sebastian’s fingers tense slightly around his glass. He briefly entertains the idea of concocting a fake backstory on the fly, but promptly remembers he’s a nervous liar and defaults to the simplest truth.
“I’m a doctor,” he says.
“Oh. Wow.”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
“I’m not,” Luca lies, then concedes to a guilty smile. “It’s just… you look young is all.”
“Thanks. Pretty soon I think they’re going to let me upgrade from safety scissors in the OR. If I’m really good.”
He rolls his eyes. “Oh, he’s quick with the jokes, too. What kind of medicine are you in?”
Well, this is one way to kill a mood fast. “Shop talk isn’t exactly what I was hoping for tonight,” he says. 
The glass pauses halfway to Luca’s lips. He cocks an eyebrow. “And what, exactly, are you looking for?”
Now they’re getting somewhere. 
“Depends. What are you offering?”
“Depends,” he echoes. “How much have you had to drink?” 
Sebastian smirks. “If you’re into playing daddy, you could have just said so,” he flirts, and the words surprise even him coming out of his mouth. Maybe he hasn’t forgotten how to do this, after all. 
It earns a surprised laugh. “How old do you think I am, exactly?”
“I’m not saying you’re my daddy,” Sebastian argues. “Theoretically, you could have a baby at home. Or maybe you had kids young. I don’t know your life.”
“Well, I didn’t,” Luca drawls. “And I don’t.”
“No kids,” Sebastian repeats. “What I’m hearing is… your place is empty?” 
This… does not get the reaction he was hoping for. Luca's smile drops a bit, eyes averting to the bar. 
“Oh,” Sebastian backtracks, sobering slightly. “I—Sorry, did I misread this? Oh god, please don’t tell me you have a wife.”
“I’m not married,” he assures him. “Definitely not to a woman. It’s just… my place. It’s not…”
Sebastian levels him with an appraising gaze. “I’m trying to decide if you're hiding a body or a rare Barbie collection." Luca flushes slightly and Sebastian decides to take pity on him. “Lucky for you, my hotel is three blocks away.”
Luca swallows down the rest of his drink and flags down the check. 
****
As with every hot, steamy rendezvous, their night takes a brief interlude at a 7/11. 
At this hour on a Friday night, the cast of characters includes one miserable cashier, a man reciting bible verses under his breath on a loop, and a gaggle of stumbling-drunk college kids. Sebastian’s eyes catch on one of the latter: a boy with blond curls and thin wrists protruding from his cuffed sleeves. For just a moment, at just the right angle before he turns, Sebastian sees a flash of Jaime, and the comparison sends a shockwave through his gut. 
In another life, that could be him; laughing with his friends on a Friday night, arm slung around a girl with blue streaks in her hair, being slightly too loud in a public space. 
It should be him. He should be here, living a normal, happy life, not holed up in Sam and Ezra’s guest room, waiting for the owner of his contract to come home. 
“Next in line.” The cashier’s voice pulls him back to the present, and Sebastian blinks, realizing he’s suddenly a little more sober and a lot less horny than he was a minute earlier. 
They lay their items on the counter—a three-pack of condoms, travel sized lube, and two bottles of water—and both pull out their wallets to pay. 
“On me,” Luca says, pushing forward a silver Amex.  
“Chivalry isn’t dead,” Sebastian cheeks, trying to nudge them back toward the path of flirtation instead of depressive-crisis-in-a-convenience-store. 
It almost works, too, until they step outside and a voice calls out:
“Senator Luke Bennett.” 
Beside him, Luca stiffens. A man appears in front of them. He casts a look to the condoms and lube in the transparent bag, to Sebastian, then back at Luke. A smirk edges up his mouth and—wait. 
Sorry. Did he just say senator?
“Is your boy not doing it for you anymore?” The man’s breath smells of liquor and mint when he leans too close. “I hear WRU has a good return policy for unsatisfactory performance.”
Suddenly, the senator bombshell doesn’t feel all that important. Sebastian takes a step back, watching the image of the attractive stranger warp before his eyes. 
“You have a contract?” he asks. 
“Ooo,” the man chuckles. “Didn’t mean to stir the pot.”
“No, Richard, that doesn’t sound like you at all.” Senator Luca is all ice. 
“I’ll leave you to it.” Richard backs off with both hands raised and a smile firmly in place. “My best to Leo.”
Luke watches him retreat with cold steel in his eyes. When he’s gone, he turns to Sebastian, halfway through an apology.  “Listen, I—”
“You have a fucking contracted worker at home?” Sebastian cuts in. “That’s why we couldn’t go back to your place?”
The look on his face is all the answer he needs.
“Jesus,” Sebastian scoffed. “I would have preferred a wife. God, I don’t know what I expected. I guess when-in-Washington, you’ve got to screen your hookups a little better. One, are you a conservative? Two, are you a fucking senator? Three, do you support the literal modern day slave trade?”
Luke’s jaw is cut in a way that might have been hot before Sebastian knew a few key details. He lifts his chin, keeping his voice infuriatingly even.
“I am in the public eye,” he says. “I have never been shy about my stance firmly against the system.”
“That’s one hell of a mixed signal you’re sending.”
And… okay. Sure. Sebastian is being a little bit hypocritical. But his situation… it’s different. Right? And highly unlikely that he just so happened to stumble upon a high ranking government official who just so happens to own a contract out of system resistance. 
“I don’t expect you to understand,” Luke says. “But I also can’t fault you for being angry. I’m glad you are. It means you’re one of the good ones. That being said…” He throws a half-hearted wave with the hand not holding a bag of condoms and lube. “It was nice meeting you.”
He’s a few steps down the sidewalk when something possesses Sebastian to call after him. 
“What does that make you?” he says.
Luke stops.
“If I’m one of the good ones,” Sebastian repeats. “What does that make you?”
He turns back to Sebastian, and the honest look of sadness in his eyes catches him off guard.
“I try to be good for him,” he says. "I do my best."
And Sebastian knows he should let it go and walk away, but he hears himself respond anyway. “Yeah, you and every other prick who thinks they’re doing these people a favor. I know how that goes. I see it every day, what that kind of ‘goodness’ does to them.”
Luke’s brow furrows. Sebastian’s brain catches up to his mouth a few seconds too late.
Shit. 
“What do you mean you see it every day?”
“I…” Sebastian scrubs a hand over his mouth, “You know what? Never mind.” He steps around him, making a beeline for his hotel. This time, it’s Luke who calls after him. 
“Wait.”
Sebastian waits. Luke lowers his voice, closing the distance again. “Do you…?” His mouth shapes and reshapes a few attempts at words. “Are you in resistance work?”
Is it really a lie to leave out part of the truth? As long as the part you do say is still true? Probably best to go for avoidance altogether. 
“If I was,” Sebastian says, “I probably wouldn’t run and tell the first government representative I meet.”
Something like recognition flashes in Luke's eyes. “You’re in town for the supply trade. A group of medical resistance workers were planning to network in the city this week.”
Sebastian takes a step back. He’s struck with the sudden paralyzing fear that federal agents were about to pop around the corner and drag him away. 
“How do you know that?” he whispers.
“I…” Luke begins. “I know someone who does some work in that area. When he can.”
Sebastian crosses his arms. “Public opposition is one thing,” he says. “Knowledge of illegal action against the system is another, Senator.”
Finally, a bit of the hardness in his expressions gives way to a smile. 
“Then I guess we know where my allegiances lie.”
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foxes-that-run · 6 months
Text
Sweet Creature
Harry said that Sweet Creature is about one person, and that he will never say who, adding if he would never tell them it wasn't about them. I think the protagonist has changed since it was written. It was a closer in the Live on tour set, and often emotional like this time in New York.
It was played once on HSLoveOT at Wembley. Harry talked about Gemma first bringing him to London for xfactor and he’d “like to play a song for her tonight”. He thanked London. So its matured in meaning and he sung it to Gemma, who had a baby 8 months later:
youtube
19 February 2016
At the Troubadour (at 21:40) on it's launch 19 May 2017, Harry said Sweet Creature was written a few weeks after his birthday 1 February 2016. It was written at the Village in Los Angeles. There is a photo of him at the studio on the 19th February. He also said it was the first song he wrote “for” the album. Harry said that one song (two ghosts) was written before leaving the band but everything on debut except 3 songs were written between July and December 2016.
Sweet creatures opening melody is similar to Blackbird by the Beatles. Blackbird is a McCartney song, interestingly, Harry was photographed with Ringo at the Clive Davis Grammy party. From I'm Not Happy (possibly the same night) and Pop Tart it might have been the first time they saw each other after the 2015 BBMAs 8 months earlier, 1D had been touring for most of that.
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Cry “O sweet creature!” then kiss me hard
‘Sweet Creature’ appears in Shakespeare’s Othello. A tragedy, Othello is newly married to the beautiful (and faithful) Desdemona. The villain, Lago resents Othello and drives him mad by insinuating that the handsome and charismatic Cassio had an affair with Desdemona. Lago tells Othello that he heard Cassio talk in his sleep:
In sleep I heard him say “Sweet Desdemona Let us be wary, let us hide our loves.” And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand, Cry “O sweet creature!” then kiss me hard…”
It’s a really interesting reference. On one hand, Harry is singing with genuine affection and fits the imagined role of Cassio. However, as described in Woman Harry was jealous and he’s also the villain, messing with CH, in a laughably effective way.
If the Othello reference holds, Desdemona had also not cheated on Othello. But by 28 February Harry tweeted 'You can shake an apple off an apple tree.' And by April 29 that may have changed (Illicit Affairs / I did something bad).
Lyrics
[Verse 1] Sweet creature Had another talk about where it's going wrong But we're still young We don't know where we're going But we know where we belong
In out of the Woods and interviews about it Taylor talked about the relationship being tentative and plagued by challenges and poor communication.
Harry did not know where he was going, One Direction was broken up and although he started recording he had not signed a solo record deal.
TS and HS were unable to let each other go for years, often singing about belonging, or eventually being together. Particularly Someday, Satellite, As it Was, The 1 and End Game.
[Pre-Chorus] And, oh, we started Two hearts in one home It's hard when we argue We're both stubborn, I know But oh
'Two hearts one home' references Hopelessly by Crosby, Stills and Nash hoping on Harry’s Another Man Mix Tape. “They are One Person / They are Two Alone”, Nash was longing for Joni Mitchell, an idol of Taylor’s. This line is often read as referring to Gemma and when played it again in 2023 Harry agreed. However I think it wouldn’t have been dropped from the set if it was about Gemma.
In 2016 though, his 'home' was not a building. In the first 2 minutes of the Fine Line interview with Zane Lowe Harry talks about not feeling at home and feeling lost in his house in London on a 5 day 1D break, and glad when it ended. Taylor was a home of the heart, a part of his world and separate to the band. Woman Exile has more on ‘home’.
The idea of one’s sweetheart being home is in the Notebook, Harry’s favourite movie. Old Noah says it to his kids when they ask him to come home with him, his wife is his home.
[Chorus] Sweet creature, sweet creature Wherever I go, you bring me home Sweet creature, sweet creature When I run out of road, you bring me home
‘When I run out of road’ reminds us of the amount of Driving in Haylor songs. But this is referring specifically to Harry’s anxiety going solo and trust/hope that Taylor would be there for him. 7 months later in New Years Day she agreed: “I'll be there if you're the toast of the town, babe, Or if you strike out and you're crawling home”
[Verse 2] Sweet creature Running through the garden Oh, where nothing bothered us But we're still young I always think about you and how we don't speak enough
I think here though the Garden is the beach at Taylors Rhode Island home, (bought when they first dated) where the 1989 and 1989 TV covers and rolling stone beach shoot was. This shoot is referenced in the videos for Style and End Game.
Similar lyrical references are in Cruel Summer (snuck in through the garden gate to seal our fate), Blank Space (Rose Garden filled with thorns) and Betty (In the Garden would you trust me).
Not speaking is also a common theme, best put in Fine Line: "Spreading you open Is the only way of knowing you", and The 1: "And if you wanted me, you really should've showed."
And he posted this when it was released
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newtonsheffield · 1 year
Note
As a 50 something who loves sex (on a Kanthony scale in my dreams), I’m feeling like I should be past it with all this embarrassment from the kids … can we have some genuine 50 something spicy smut 🌶️ from Milf K and Dilf A to show they’ve still VERY much got it together. Any AU you choose! Thanks!
The bane of Edmund's life, MILF and DILF Kate and Anthony and we're revisiting the BSCU for this
Kate was sure this should have stopped by now, surely it would have. Everyone said it was supposed to. That this sort of wanting faded into nearly nothing and what you were left with was companionship. That would have been nice, Kate supposed, and it wasn't that they didn't have that, after nearly twenty years together Kate was sure there wasn't anyone who knew her better than Anthony. No one who knew her little quirks and the kind of jam she liked and the way she liked the temperature of her coffee just right. There was that, of course there was. But there was still the wanting as well.
There was still that little prickle of awareness that ran down her spine whenever Anthony entered the room and sometimes her cheeks still burned when his fingers brushed hers at work and their eyes caught and she could see that he was thinking exactly the same thing: Fuck.
It was different now, had been since they'd had Edmund, truly. When she'd felt different, odd, in her own skin. Anthony had shaken his head, that first night she'd wanted him after when her voice had shaken and she'd suddenly realised that her slightly thicker thighs and the dark lines that criss crossed her stomach were still there and she'd panicked.
"Can you just... not take my shirt off?"
He'd shaken his head, kissing her gently as his hand had slid underneath it, "You are the most beautiful person I've ever seen. You're my wife, and I'm going to love all of you tonight."
She hadn't really felt self conscious since. Nor had Anthony, but then he never had. He seemed to grow annoyingly more handsome every year as his hair became flecked with grey as did his beard and he became only more confident as a husband and father, settling into his place in the world and everything felt right. They knew each other, the very worst and best things about each other and they loved one another still.
She'd been curious about how this morning would go. Honestly she had, slightly panicked as she remembered the odd disconnect on Anthony's fortieth birthday when he'd realised his hair was greying and he was older now than his father had ever had the chance to be. There'd been grief there as well as joy for them to slowly unpack when the night grew quiet and she wondered if today would be the same. Another milestone. Fifty years old.
So when she woke this morning with Anthony's voice singing gruffly in her ear, she was almost a little surprised.
Happy birthday to me! Happy Birthday to me! Happy Birthday dear Anthonyyyyy! Happy Birthday to me!
Kate fought a smirk at the feel of her husband's hands slipping underneath the T-shirt she'd stolen from him years ago now, tugging her further back against his bare chest, his lips already nipping at her neck gently, letting heat simmer low in the pit of her stomach just as it did every time Anthony touched her.
"Happy Birthday, old man."
Anthony scoffed, his hips already bucking gently against her, pointedly, letting her feel him against her, chuckling as her eyes fluttered closed and she had to swallow convulsively. "Old man is it?"
"Yes." Kate pretended she was unaffected as best she could though her hand reached back and her fingers slipped between the soft strands of his hair and she held him closer against her. "Ancient."
Anthony let out a playful growl as he nipped at her ear and his fingers slipped into the waistband of her pyjamas "If I'm so decrepit, then you won't want us to do this."
Her legs fell open for him and Anthony's fingers moved against her at the same time his thigh slipped between her legs and his free hand encouraged her hips against him.
A moan fell from her lips and cut the morning even as her breathing hitched in her chest and she gasped his name, his answering chuckle vibrating through her chest.
"I never said that." She turned her head, to lock eyes with him for just a moment, his greying hair sticking up in all directions, a sleepy satisfied smile on his face as tension built slowly between them and then it all seemed to happen at once. Her shirt was tugged from her body and their shorts disappeared and all she could feel was Anthony's warm skin pressed against her, the familiarity of it nearly stifling as they ground together desperately for a few moments
Oh fucking hell
It fell from Anthony's lips as Kate's hips snapped back against his and they were joined together. One person now, again, as they had been so many times over the two decades they'd been together and still it felt the same.
Anthony was everywhere. His hands moved over her and his lips nipped at her neck and they moved together seamlessly, even more so than when they'd just started dating. That was the best thing about it, Kate always thought that, as the heat licked at her stomach and the tension floating around the room drew the air from her lungs and endless praise fell from Anthony's lips into her ear as he held her back against his chest: The way they knew one another now. She knew every inch of him, every part of him, his likes and dislikes and the things that drove him insane. It was so easy, in the intimacy, almost like reading one another's minds.
Oh Fuck, Oh Kate, Oh Fucking hell, Why do I always want you like this? Oh Fuck
Kate could feel the coil in her stomach winding tighter and tighter and the warmth of the morning sun burning around them and-
Anthony!
She fell over the edge quickly, the second Anthony's hand slipped between her legs again, just the way he'd intended but he didn't stop. His body was still writhing languidly against her, tortured moans in her ear that turned more ad more satisfied with every second.
"Fucking Hell." He let out a sad noise as she nudged him back, whining at the loss of contact before she turned, straddling him, desperate to see his face suddenly. He was grinning up at her, had started the moment he realised her intentions, his hair even more mussed his chest heaving with the exertion and still he managed to sound smug, "Oh by all means: be my guest."
Kate rolled her eyes, but the snarky reply she'd intended died in her throat the moment their hips moved back together. Anthony's hands shot out to her waist holding her steady, encouraging every movement, lending more force to it with every second. Anthony's eyes were a little glazed, and his wedding ring pressed an indent of itself against her hip as he stared up at her with so much love that she would have thought was impossible, after so long. There'd been enough people that had said whatever was between them would cool, and Anthony would grow tired, and she'd grow irritated and it never happened. The satisfaction she seemed to get from seeing that ring on his finger seemed to grow more by the second especially in moments like this when she held him, powerless underneath her and his words moved her forward
Fuck you're so beautiful, that's right, Kate, look at us, fuck I love you so much. Come on, one more time babe, once more. Fuck I love you.
The entire room could have caught fire, for all Kate knew, all she could feel was the feel of Anthony writhing desperately underneath her and the press of his hands on her and the feel of his teeth nipping at her skin, marking her for him, so everyone would know that they loved one another. Still. And she couldn't hold on. And neother could he.
Fucking hell, Kate!
They fell apart together, letting themselves shatter and their hips buck erratically and warmth pool between them in the soft morning and everything went still.
"Is it still old man?"
Kate chuckled at the breathless sound of his voice as his cheeks shined with exertion, red as they were, adorable, really. "It's still old man."
Anthony huffed, nipping at her neck again, "Maybe I'll have to teach you another lesson then."
"I love you." It was pulled form her chest without even thinking, constantly on her lips though it was.
"I love you too. Always." Anthony hummed, "Now if you're interested, I'm a little hungry and... i think... you might be able to help me with that."
Kate groaned as her thighs clenched together of their own volition "That actually sounds-"
"Mum! Dad!" The door rattled in the frame as Charlotte's voice echoed through from the hall. "Why's the door locked?!"
Kate darted up, though Anthony's movements were still slow and sluggish in his satisfied state. She snatched her clothes up from the floor, tugging them on before tossing Anthony's boxers at him that he begrudgingly put on.
Kate cleared her throat, opening the door "It wasn;t locked, must have gotten stuck."
Charlotte stared back at her, eyes narrowed suspiciously, "Why is your shirt on inside out?"
Kate's cheeks burned, "It's not."
"It's back to front as well."
"This is just the style."
Charlotte scoffed, peering back inside at the sheets strewn about the room and the pillow thrown to the floor. "Oh gross."
"It't not gross that your Mum loves me!" Anthony called back a little petulantly, as their teenage daughter stormed off down the hall.
"I'm scarred for life!" Charlotte called back, "And I made you breakfast so happy birthday I guess!"
"Should we be proud of traumatising our children?" Anthony asked a little bemusedly, having stood from the bed and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her neck gently.
"I think she'll recover."
What Charlotte was unlikely to recover from though, was her Uncle Benedict cackling to himself as he bounded through the door with Anthony's birthday gift which turned out to be a Tshirt that read Viagra's number 1 fan
And Anthony tossing it back to Benedict with a curt: "I don't need your hand me downs."
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xxatinyminionxx · 2 years
Text
💝 The Best Birthday Gift Ever 💝
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Summary: You still had one more gift to give your boyfriend Sunoo for his birthday and he was more than ready to receive it.
Genre: Very fluffy SMUT, Established relationship
Pairing: Sub!Sunoo x Switch!Reader
Word count: 1325
Includes: Two lovebirds, grinding, male receiving oral and overstimulation, reader recieving facial
Warning: This is a Sunoo SMUT.
Requested?: No, my idea!
A/N: Happy birthday to Kim Sunoo that is talented and manages to make the world a brighter place. Thank you for being someone I can happily show off and talk about to my weak heart’s content. Love you so much, ENHYPEN’s one and only sunshine 💖
Right after the last guest of Sunoo’s house party left, you two decided to cuddle in his room under the huge, fuzzy blanket you got for him. But something has been on and off your mind. Is he expecting more from you? Like…does he want birthday head?
You have been together for over a year now and the most you’ve done is some heavy petting during your occasional heated make outs.
Sunoo hums and kisses your temple. “You got quiet. Are you falling asleep cutie?”
Peeking up at him you blush at how handsome he looks up close and shake your head. “Haha not exactly. Just thinking~” You raise a hand from his waist and place it on his chest.
The birthday boy wears a warm smile on his face, placing his hand over yours. “Do you want to tell me? I’m all ears.”
Crap. It didn’t occur to you that he would ask so openly. Nervous, you open your mouth again, your eyes hesitant to look into his.
“It’s just…You know we’ve been together for awhile—“
“571 days?”
Your eyes widen at him. “You counted?!? Baby I love you so so much~”
Once he sees you pout your lips he lowers his head. kissing you again. “I love you soooo much more! I wish I could say I counted myself, but I looked it up, hehe.”
You shake your head and begin rubbing his chest. “The thought, that’s what counts to me.”
Sunoo nods quickly and goes quiet for a second, running his fingertips across your back. He knows it relaxes you, especially when you’re having a hard time. He must know you have something to say. So attentive this man.
“Um baby? It’s okay to reject this, I don’t want you to feel pressured. So…I wanted to know if you—wanted me to give you a blowjob for your birthday. We’ve never done it, I know, but I can’t deny that you deserve one, y-you know?”
Your boyfriend grins and you feel his heart rate go unsteady when he sucks in a breath from gasping softly. “Well, only if you want to. I didn’t know how to bring it up without coming off as ungrateful for everything else you are to me. I’d really, really like one though~”
You smile back at him, hearing the sincerity in his tone. “Of course, you’re Kim Sunoo. The most caring, thoughtful boyfriend ever.” You initiate the kiss this time and Sunoo eases into it while pulling you on top of him. You cup his cheeks, breaking away for just a second to catch the way his eyes flutter open to see what’s going on. You both giggle and you place your lips back on his.
You start rolling your hips into his, his hands at your waist helping you move. You can feel him start to harden under you, which makes you shy but excited at the same time. His tongue soon enters your mouth and you only suck it for a short time when a soft moan erupts from his throat. Fuck, that turns you on. It flips a switch in you quite literally.
You pull back and go for his neck, kissing every bit of skin that you can. “I want you to moan just like that when I’m going down on you, got it?”
He moans again, his head lazily rolling onto its side. “Mhm~ Y/N I need you so bad~” He places a hand on your head, gently guiding you down his body.
You kneel between his legs and bring your palm to his growing bulge. The light-haired boy shudders, his body raising up off the bed for a split second into your touch. You start digging your palm into his crotch. “Does it feel good? Mm?”
With slightly parted lips, Sunoo groans and grips onto the pillow his head is on with his free hand. “Mhm, you’re good baby…” He begins caressing your head with a shaky hand. “Babe, you’re such a tease going this slow aren’t you?”
You laugh and lift his shirt to kiss his now exposed abdomen. “What? Want me to speed this up, mister impatient?”
He looks off to the side dramatically, but not without groaning, nonchalantly responding, “Only if my favorite person in the world wants to.”
“Welllll—“
“M-Maybe a little faster, please?” Sunoo cuts off your stalling with a needy whisper.
You smirk and nod at his request. “Okay, it’s your birthday wish after all.”
Sunoo whines at your teasing but lets you move at your own pace nonetheless. You unfasten and pull down his pants, taking his underwear with it. What you see is quite intimidating but inviting. His erection stands tall against his stomach, throbbing every time you exhale against his soft skin.
Your mind goes blank for a moment before you decide to wrap a hand around his dick and start stroking it. You start blushing again and look up at him. “Is it okay?”
He opens his eyes just enough to watch you and subconsciously licks his lips. “Mm yes, it will feel good as long as you’re the one doing it…”
As if his lip licking was your cue, you open your mouth and sink your lips down his length until you feel the tip at the back of your throat. You come back up quickly, but go back in after a brief recovery. You bob your head up and down with your hand roughly twisting him at the base.
This has Sunoo become a moaning mess further up the bed. His head tilts up and to the sides as you suck him off passionately, saliva dripping down the sides of his cock. “Ohhh babe, that’s it~! Oh F— can I curse?”
You almost bite down to grin when he asks that question and come back up to pump him so you don’t. “Sure, I won’t tell anyone~ And I think you should take off your shirt, you look hot.”
The hyperventilating boy laughs while deep in his little pleasure euphoria headspace and removes his shirt. “Better baby?”
You nod and hum once you put his dick back into your mouth. You taste his precum taking that as a sign that he is close already.
“F-Fuck… It feels really good…” He starts gently thrusting into your mouth with one of his hands still resting on your head. You let him guide his length into your mouth and tears well up in your eyes. You continue to hum intentionally, swirling your tongue around him for extra stimulation. Before you forget, you also give attention to his balls, playing with them as he uses you.
“Ah! Fuck! Mmh! I-I’m gonna cum— W-Where Y/N???”
You release him from your mouth and stick out your tongue, pumping him hard. You look up at him squirming at your actions, reddened face and messy hair falling over his face included.
“Babe! You’re so sexy like that! O-Oh it’s coming!” Sunoo lets out several breathy grunts when he cums, ropes of cum shooting onto your tongue and face.
“Mmm any more?” You challenge with a cum-covered eye squeezed shut, never stopping your hand as he experiences his climax.
“Y/N! Fuuuck!” More cum erupts from his tip, your boyfriend’s hips bucking more violently as it does.
“Mmm, you came a lot…” You bob your head on his dick a little more making sure you get every last drop of what he had to give you before peeling away from him to sit up. You reach for the tissues by his bed.
Sunoo lays still on the bed still trying to find his bearings and come back to his senses.
Meanwhile, you clean him and yourself up. You then lay back in bed with him and kiss his bare shoulder. “That was fun~ Was it the best birthday gift ever?”
He chuckles and gives you a big affectionate hug. “Almost, YOU are the best birthday gift ever~ Thank you for existing, Y/N.”
© xxatinyminionxx 2022. All Rights Reserved.
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moononastring · 2 years
Text
Inspiration [ Elucien ]
Prompt: Modern AU | Aspiring writer Elain Archeron is looking for some inspiration for her new novel when she happens to meet the perfect man for the job.
Pairing: Elucien <3 Genre: Romance with some humor and a dash of spice 🌶 Warnings: Lots of feels?
Author’s Note: Happy birthday to me 🎉 This Modern AU has been living in my head rent-free for a few months and originally, I was planning to make it a few parts but alas, this felt like a better fit for me now! I hope you ENJOY! Let me know how you like it :)
Tagging: @ladyofcaraverre | @ruhncervos | @helion-ism | @ourbooksuniverse | @ahkhnn | @selesera | @my-inner-crisis | @ughbandmembersx | @ladyelain | @bowdawn | @rarephloxes | @lidiacervos |
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It wasn’t strange that she, little ‘ole prim Elain, was sitting in a booth at this high-end downtown bar with a notebook and pen, people watching. Her laptop would’ve been too obvious and she didn’t want to get distracted on her phone so an old school notebook and pen seemed like a better fit. 
So far, she'd been propositioned by three older gentlemen. While flattered, Elain wasn’t exactly sure what about her simple black dress screamed hooker. Maybe it was the lipstick. It was a gorgeous red. 
Even though it was a Wednesday night and she hadn’t expected too much action, Elain’s eyes continued to watch the room carefully. She needed all the details she could get to properly set the scene for her next novel. 
Up-and-coming romance author Elain Archeron was on a new mission with her next book. She’d written several sweet romances that had her readers on a fluff overdose sprinkled with a little steam here and there. But now, she wanted to step out of her writing comfort zone for a bit and...spice it up. 
Her next book would be a spicy mafia romance.
A small giggle escaped her as the excitement of a new plot and characters bubbled inside her. Writing had become as glorious of an outlet for her as was gardening. Nesta working in publishing had given her a great doorway into the writing world and she would be damned not to take advantage of this new passion. 
So, she had dived into Pinterest and created moodboard after moodboard of what she was envisioning for this book. The plot would be a little gritty, a little darker than her usual books but Elain knew exactly how the story would unfold from start to finish. She knew how her characters would meet and be thrown together. Most importantly, she knew the tropes that would bring this story to life. Elain planned on destroying her characters in the best way and then gluing them back together again with love. 
All it needed was just a smidge more inspiration. A dose of experience to really help her write from the heart so she could turn a morally grey, murderous asshole into a swoon-worthy lover that fucked like a god. She narrowed her eyes as she scanned the room again, tapping the pen to her chin until her gaze zeroed in on a gentleman sitting at the bar, alone.
And Elain felt her heart skip a beat. 
She had noticed him as soon as he walked in and had tried not to stare at him too hard but in reality, that’s all she’d been doing since he arrived ten minutes ago. Her eyes would take in details of the room then eventually find their way right back to him.
Currently seated, Elain knew without him needing to stand, that he was tall and well-built. Judging by the way his dress shirt hugged his magnificent back and broad shoulders, he was quite a man.
The moment she had seen his face though, she knew he was the one. His features were sharp and elegant, handsome in a way that had knocked the wind out of her. The scar she had noticed on his face when he had walked in did nothing to make him any less attractive. In fact, all Elain could think about was how perfect he was.
She bit her lip and continued to discreetly watch the beautiful stranger as he sat, frowning down at whatever message he was reading on his phone. His sleeves were rolled up to expose toned forearms and Elain felt her face flush at the way he picked up his drink and brought it to his lips to take a sip and oh, was Elain Archeron starting to feel things.
The very vanilla sex she last had with Graysen many months ago clearly did as little for her now as it had done when she had it. 
Pulling out her phone, Elain texted the group chat.
morons<3
Elain: I found him.
Rhys: That’s not ominous at all.
Cassian: Shitsen? I told you I accidentally shoved him into a locker at the gym the other day. He’s not that hard to find. 
Rhys: Because he’s ugly. You can spot him a mile away. He’s probably still in there.
Feyre: How was it an accident if Rhys was filming it?
Rhys: I was trying to film myself flexing at the gym babe. It was for you <3
Cassian: *barf emoji* Cassian: But also you can smell him a mile away too.
Rhys: Musty.
Cassian: Gnarly. 
Nesta: Can you two shut up for a moment please?  Nesta: Elain, please don’t tell me you’re stalking someone.
Elain rolled her eyes at her phone. Typical of them to turn the conversation elsewhere or think of her as a creep.
Elain: I am not stalking anyone. I’m at a bar. I found the ONE. The man who will help me with my writing inspiration.
Feyre: ...Elain pls don’t approach a strange man for inspiration.
Elain: I’m at the Sunshine and Rose. It’s a fancy place. He’s a fancy man. Could be the mafia man I’m looking for!!
Cassian: ...Rhys is right here, Elain.
Rhys: True. I’m offended you didn’t think of me. I am a mafia man.
Elain: Well, you’re not MY mafia man.  Elain: Plus you’re not hot. Esp since you’re sleeping with my sister.  Elain: You’re really gross <3
Nesta: I knew this was about your book. Don’t do anything crazy. I can’t publish it if you cause a scandal. Do you even have your NDA?
Rhys: Still offended but valid reasoning. Rhys: And you’re wrong. I’m VERY hot.  Rhys: Feyre says so.
Cassian: I say so too, bro. You’re really hot.  Cassian: Besides, you know I’m your muscle guy, Lanie. I’m offended you didn’t think of ME.
Rhys: so honored to be validated by a sexy beast like you bro. Rhys: I’m also offended on Cassian’s behalf. We’re both offended.
Elain: Suffer in silence pls <3 Elain: Yes, I have the NDA. I am merely notifying you of my whereabouts. Elain: He’s so hot. I think I will take him home. Elain: I hope to update you after I have spent the night located beneath him!!!!
Cassian: Right on. Get that D!!!!
Rhys: Make sure you have a condom. If he says he doesn’t have one, he’s lying.
Nesta: Elain. No. Nesta: Why are you idiots encouraging her?!!!!
Feyre: Elain don’t go home with a stranger.
Elain: Elain YES. Elain: Also, don’t pretend the two idiots in this chat weren’t strangers when you took them home.
Cassian: Hottest night of my LIFE.
Rhys: Second that. I was wrecked by the sheer beauty that is my Feyre darling.
Feyre: RHYS. Can we focus on my sister trying to creep on a stranger at some bar?
Rhys: I really want to focus on you instead.
Cassian: Nesta destroyed my body and soul that night. Should’ve filed a police report but I enjoyed it too much.
Nesta: Cassian.
Cassian: Sweetheart.
Feyre: SIGH. Can you PLEASE GET IT TOGETHER?? Feyre: Elain, take a picture of his face at least.
Elain snorted then sent a kissy face emoji as her final text. She straightened, her eyes immediately zeroing in again on her target who was now watching whatever was playing on the bar tv.
Standing, she smoothed down her dress and grabbed her purse then made her way towards him.
She would be casual about it. Smooth. She would just slide onto the barstool next to him and dazzle him with a smile. Then make him talk to her first. 
Sliding up to the counter, Elain stood with a barstool between them and snuck a glance at her beautiful stranger. A jolt of pleasure coursed through her body when she found him staring back. Elain gave him a pretty smile then turned back to the bartender. 
“Hi Jerry!” she greeted with a smile. “Sick of seeing my face here yet?”
“How could I when it’s so pretty?” the older man said with a laugh and Elain chuckled along. “Let me guess, a little rosé while you do your research?”
Elain pointed at him with a grin. “You know it! My favorite kind of pink drink.” 
The bartender walked away with a chuckle and Elain took a breath, pretending not to feel his gaze on her. She fiddled with her napkin for a moment, then looked up to find the beautiful stranger watching her curiously. She arched her brow and the man glanced down at his drink with a small smile before looking back at her.
“Hi.” 
“Hello.”
They glanced at each other quietly for a moment, her cheeks heating lightly at the curve of his sensuous lips. 
“I couldn’t help overhearing what Jerry said to you,” he began and angled his body to face her. “If you don’t mind me asking, what kind of research are you doing that requires you to be at a bar on a Wednesday night?”
Elain willed her body not to shudder at the way his voice washed over her like honey. His voice. 
Oh, she would need to describe that very explicitly. 
“Well,” she began and curled a strand of hair behind her ear, angling herself to face him as well with an empty seat between them. “I’m a writer. I’m trying to set the scene for my novel.” 
His face lit in interest and Elain took a moment to openly admire him. Up close, he was even more handsome than she imagined. His eyes were such a distinct color, she was itching to grab her pen to describe them. The scar was even more striking up close and Elain desperately wanted to touch it. 
“Ah, I see. What kind of stories do you write?”
“I’m a romance writer.” She said with pride and grinned at the chuckle that slipped from his lips. 
“Are you trying to write about two strangers meeting at a bar?” he teased. “Love at first sight?”
She rolled her eyes with a good-natured smile. “No. I’m writing something very different.” 
“Is that so?” he asked and leaned back to observe her. “So the story isn’t going to be about me then?”
Elain laughed. “That depends.” she said with a cute head tilt. “Has anyone ever told you, you look like you could be a mobster?”
The man stilled and blinked then let out a hearty laugh. “No.” he replied, amusement lacing his tone. “But what if I was an actual henchman in the mob? You just put a target on your back.”
Elain snorted and shot him a look. “A henchman in the mob wouldn’t say he was.” she replied knowingly. “You probably do something boring in marketing.”
“PR actually. Not quite as boring.” he said with a smile and raised the drink in salute. “But we can pretend I’m your mobster. I’m already wearing suspenders.”
Elain laughed, shaking her head with a smile. “All you need is a gun holster and a cigar then the look would be complete.”
He waved a hand. “Noted. Give me ten minutes, I’ll be ready to show you the complete look.”
“Is that so? So eagerly giving away your secrets.”
“Sure. You’ve already uncovered my identity. I can’t risk my reputation now. First impressions are everything.”
Elain rolled her eyes, pleased he was following along with her conversation even as he was joking. She watched him as he watched her, doing her best not to shudder under his gaze. She only took her eyes off him when Jerry returned with her drink.
“So.” her handsome stranger started. “What’s the name of your mafia man?”
“That also depends. What’s your name?” she asked boldly and was pleased to see color bloom on his cheeks.
His lips curled into a smile. “I thought you said the story wouldn’t be about me.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself now.” she said and he grinned. “All I asked was your name.”
“My name is Lucien.” he said. “And yours?”
“Elain.”  
“Do you always just walk up and start talking to strangers like this, Elain?”
“You’re the one who started talking to me.” she said with a cheeky grin and Lucien couldn’t help his laugh.
“Fair enough.” he said and raised his drink, taking a sip as his eyes roved over her body. “Couldn’t really help myself.”
Elain smiled, taking a sip of her own drink before she tilted her head sweetly and said, “Since you can’t help yourself do you mind if I pull out my notebook and jot down some ideas. If I don’t write them down, I will lose the thought.”
Amusement colored his face and he waved a hand. “By all means.”
Grinning, Elain quickly took out her notepad and pen, and then so shamelessly, her eyes cataloged every single inch of him. She savored every detail of his facial features, the way he was dressed, and the way he held himself. She watched him as he watched her until finally, Lucien was the first one to look away with a laugh.
“It’s the scar, isn’t it?”
“Oh, the scar is beautiful but it’s your eyes I’m focused on,” she said and quickly jot down her initial thoughts. “They’re a lovely shade. You also have a great nose.” 
“You’re giving off real weird vibes right now.” he finally said, his cheeks a lovely shade of red that Elain was eager to describe. “But I can’t say I’m not into it.”
Looking up from her notebook, Elain flushed with a laugh. “Well, it definitely helps that I’m pretty.”
Lucien grinned. “It absolutely helps.”
She fought back a grin but failed when he shot her a knowing look. “You flatter me, sir.” she said sweetly. “All I’m trying to do is write me a good ‘ole fashion mafia romance. I can’t help what kind of questions emerge to get inspiration.”
“Mafia romance, huh?” he asked and leaned in, a finger tracing the rim of his glass, and Elain’s eyes immediately followed the movement. “What kind of inspiration are you looking for then?”
This made Elain pause and watch him silently for a moment. She couldn’t exactly just blurt out that she wanted him to fuck her so hard she saw stars. To manhandle her just a little bit. 
Her eyes flickered to his very nice, very big hands then back to his face. 
That would be weird. She took a sip of her drink.
“Well,” she began carefully. “My romances have typically been tamer than what this one is but the market is really seeing an increase of love for more…intimate romances. I want to give it a shot.”
Lucien’s brows rose and Elain watched as a shit-eating grin formed on his face. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” she said slowly. “You see…I’ve only had minimal experience in that department.”
His brows rose. “Impossible.”
Elain nodded somewhat sadly. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“What kind of men have you been seeing?” he asked in such an offended tone, Elain flushed.
“Well. It was one guy.” she replied. “And he was more boy than man.”
Lucien’s face blanked and it took him a moment to speak. “Do you mind sharing his name? And home address?” he said calmly. “Asking for a friend.”
Elain laughed. “And you say you’re not a mobster?” she said and Lucien had the audacity to shrug with a small smile. “But no need. My sisters and their partners gave him enough grief. I’m pretty sure he has a restraining order against us.”
“If he had you and put you in a position where you have to look for inspiration elsewhere, he needs a good thrashing.” he replied. “Please, let me speak to my associates about him.”
Elain bit back a grin. “Your associates.”
“Gotta check with the big guy before we order a hit.” he said, having no issues grinning widely and Elain couldn’t help the hearty laugh that escaped her. 
“Well now, that’s very nice of you to offer.” she replied then paused before Elain gave him a coy smile. “But it’s not really the area I need inspiration for.”
He watched her silently for a moment and even as she felt her cheeks flush, Elain kept her gaze locked on his, watching as his eyes darkened. Then a slow smirk blessed his beautiful face.
“So if you don’t want me to use my associates to give someone a good thrashing,” he asked quietly. “How can I help you with your inspiration, Elain?”
Elain bit her lip, cataloging every detail of his toned body seating opposite her, every article of clothing, and every inch of his handsome face. Was she bold enough to tell him exactly what she wanted from him? Was it safe? Or was she being insane?
“Cat got your tongue?” he said, his voice low. “Or are you just trying to find a good way to ask me to fuck you senseless?”
Elain straightened and clenched her thighs together as she gaped at him. He clocked the movement and his smirk widened.
Letting out a chuckle, he took a sip of his drink and Elain watched him swallow, thinking about how she’d really like to lick his neck. 
“All you have to do is ask, love.” he continued. “I wasn’t planning on going home with a beautiful girl tonight but I am more than happy to change those plans.”
Elain watched him carefully. Did she? Should she?
“Well.” she stated and cleared her throat delicately. “What were your plans then? Being alone in this bar on a Wednesday night? One would think you’re up to no good.”
“I’m an angel.” he said in that low tone that told her he was anything but.
“Sounds like a sweet, sweet lie.”
He laughed. “Can’t a mafia man blow off some steam in a bar once in a while?” he said with a shrug and Elain rolled her eyes with a smile. 
“So just letting off some steam?”
“Yes. But I’m happy to find myself doing other things instead.”
Elain tapped her glass, her heart beating wildly as she watched him watch her. Good lord, she was already sweating. Was it because she was sex-deprived? Was it all the mafia and smutty books she’d been reading lately for inspiration that was getting to her? She was really going to ask this strange beautiful man to fuck her. 
Granted, he seemed eager. Which was great for her ego but…
“I want to be very clear about something.” she finally said. 
“Yes?” he asked with a raised brow and cocky grin. 
“This is all in the name of research.” she declared. “And research only.”
“Of course.” he said. “I’ve gone home with pretty girls for much less noble causes.”
Elain’s lips twitched. “And you’ll need to sign an NDA.”
His brows shot up. “An NDA?” he said. “How very Christian Grey of you to have me sign a contract.”
“To protect myself and you.” she said simply. “I can’t have you running around telling people I was propositioning you.”
“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” he said with a smirk.
“Need I remind you that you asked me how you could help me?” she said with her own little smirk. 
He hummed and Elain smiled.
“If I never mentioned I was a writer and looking for inspiration, would you still want to take me home?” she asked boldly. It wasn’t like she could embarrass herself further at this point. “Be honest, my feelings won’t get hurt if you say no.”
“Elain,” he began and her heart thumped at the curve of his lips when he said her name. “Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t have already had you in my home doing unspeakably delicious things to you.”
She flushed in delight. She couldn’t help it. Elain knew she was pretty but after her horrible breakup and the way Graysen had broken down her confidence in herself, it was nice to hear it. 
Also, she really needed to write that line down.
“Anyone ever tell you, you have a way with words?” she asked and he grinned.
“A high compliment from a writer.” he replied. “But I also have a question for you.”
“Yes?”
“We could've just flirted, went home together, and had a great time without you telling me about the writing part.” he said, his finger tapping against the glass. “Why tell me?”
Elain’s brows furrowed. “Because you have a right to know. I like being honest about these things.” she said. “Granted, as a writer, anything I hear or see is up for use as inspiration.”
He hummed softly, watching her. “Have you written about your ex?”
She flushed, frowning slightly. “Only once but shitty ex-boyfriends are common in romance reads.” she replied then shrugged. “And it was more about the way my character felt than about her crappy ex.”
Lucien nodded sagely. “Understandable.” 
Elain straightened suddenly. “Has this weirded you out?” she asked and blinked at him with wide eyes. “I usually curb my weirdness to close friends and family only, I just haven’t interacted with a real man like this in a while.”
“A real man?” he asked, amusement lacing his tone and Elain promptly wanted to die.
“I mean — “ she started with a flush, taking a quick sip of her drink. “I’m a writer and reader. I spent a lot of time with fictional men.”
“Ah. And those are infinitely better than real men, I take it?”
She gave him a small smile. “Most of the time.”
It fell silent between them and Elain watched him as he watched her. Now that she’d finally stopped talking, embarrassment was slowly starting to catch up to her. She had fought with herself tooth and nail to not feel bad about herself and her quirky personality but at times like this, it crept up. When she forgot herself and forgot that not everyone liked her as she was.
Graysen had ridiculed her so much about her writing. Once he had gotten to know her, he pretty much ridiculed everything she did but especially her writing. Anytime she’d ask him a question or about his thoughts, he never had anything nice to say. He always laughed at her and her silly little ideas.
“Stick to your plants, it’s what you’re good at.” he had sneered at her when she had first told him she’d written a book. Elain had been so excited to share. It had been so hard to keep it a secret from everyone but he had only given her an unimpressed look and said, “Isn’t Nesta the one into books? Keep to your own thing, Elain.”
Maybe she’d gotten carried away in this little game. Elain had only wanted to have a little fun. She could use her imagination and Pinterest and other books for inspiration. She didn’t need to keep embarrassing herself. This was weird. Sure, she wanted to have some of that good sex that everyone else keeps talking about for once but she could probably do it without all this. She could’ve just gone with him without saying a single thing and —
“Show me the NDA.”
Elain blinked, focusing back at the very handsome man across from her. “What?”
He gave her a simple smile. “Either you’re overthinking this really hard or…your mind went down the gutter faster than mine did.” he said. “And if it’s the latter, I assure you, my gutter is much, much worse.”
Elain’s cheeks heated. “Big words for a mafia man that’s not a mafia man.” she said with a small chuckle.
Lucien’s lips curled into a smirk. “Elain.” he started. “The moment you sat across from me with your pretty face and pretty dress, I knew we would have a good time together.” She watched as his finger tapped the side of his glass and then met his gaze. “You seem like the kind of girl who likes being told what to do but doesn’t know it yet.” He leaned forward and her breath hitched. “Lucky for you, I love telling people what to do. Especially in my bedroom.”
His hand left his glass and instead of letting his finger trace the rim of his glass, it was now lightly tracing Elain’s hand.
“And to answer your earlier question, I am not weirded out.” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting. “I find you and this entire conversation fascinating.”
Elain blinked, her gaze on his hand touching hers and she wondered if one could orgasm from hand touching alone. “Right.”
“You’re clearly passionate about what you do.” he said in that charming voice of his, gently turning over her hand so that his fingers could slide across her palm to her wrist and settle on the pulse point.
“Very passionate.” she said quietly, her eyes still on his long, beautiful fingers.
“Then give me the NDA. So I can sign it and take you home.” Lucien continued. “Where I can fuck you the way you deserve.”
Elain’s head shot up and she met his eyes. “That’s awfully straightforward of you.”
“Just as straightforward as you aimed to be, I imagine.”
She finally remembered herself and shrugged, a coy smile blooming on her face. “I just came here to look for inspiration.”
Lucien flattened his hand over hers and Elain flushed at the way her hand was dwarfed beneath his. “I daresay, I can help you with that.”
She swallowed. “And how are you so sure of that?”
Lucien glanced at her for a moment then slowly slid off his barstool to stand before her. He towered over her slightly and Elain relished in the way he stood so close. His hand left hers and instead, his fingers found their way to gently lift her chin to meet his gaze.
“I’m sure of that because,” he began quietly and leaned closer until he was a breath away from her lips. “I felt your pulse jump when I touched you.” His hand slid from her jaw down the column of her neck. “I feel it in the way you swallow.” That same hand cupped the back of her neck and Elain shuddered beneath his gaze and touch. “And I guarantee if I slid my hand beneath your little black dress, between those lovely thighs, I’d find something hot and wet waiting for me.”
Elain’s lips parted in surprise, her skin hot all over. His words had slid across her skin and down her spine and good lord, if he only knew how soaked she’d become. Gooseflesh erupted on her skin when his thumb traced the column of her neck and she tried not to be too obvious inhaling the scent of him. 
“What do you think of that, Elain?” he said with a devilish smile that she knew would be impossible to describe because it was distinctly him. This stranger she met in a bar. This stranger that felt like no stranger at all.
She was thinking she wanted him to lay her right here across this bar and have his way with her. Elain was thinking she’d probably let him do things to her she never thought she’d let a man do. Except for this one. Because Lucien sure as hell seemed like the type to want to do those things to her. 
“I’m thinking,” she began and swallowed, her skin heating at the smirk he gave her. “That I’d really like you to kiss me.”
“It’s a good thing you mentioned that,” he replied quietly. “Because I’ve been dying to smear that lipstick.”
With the hand holding her neck, Lucien tugged her forward and devoured her. Elain whimpered against him, against his surprisingly soft lips as he kissed her, his kiss bruising — hard — a claiming and she let him claim her. Her hands found their way to his suspenders and she tugged him closer, her grip tightening when his free hand cupped the back of her head and his other hand slid to trace the column of her neck again. When she felt his tongue, Elain eagerly opened for him and Lucien stole kisses as he stole her breath. He kissed her, his mouth nipping, biting, and imprinting his lips on hers. And when Elain had fully melted against him, fully surrendered to his mouth and tongue and hands, when he had her gripping his suspenders tightly enough that her knuckles had turned white, did Lucien finally pull away.
He most definitely had smeared her lipstick, she thought as she glanced at him in a slight daze. Half of her lipstick was on his lips. He had the audacity to grin wickedly at her.
“Now that I’ve satisfied your request, should we be on our way?” he asked calmly as if he hadn’t just scrambled her brains with that kiss. She hadn’t been kissed like that since — since well, since ever. 
Elain blinked, catching her breath, her hands still clutching him tightly. She wanted to let go, she really knew she should but the feeling of his body beneath those suspenders caused her to shudder.
“I need to take a picture of your face.” she finally said. “For my sisters.”
He smiled, his hands smoothing her hair back. “Would you like me to grab your phone? Your hands seem a little occupied.”
She flushed and aimed to let go when his hands settled over hers. “Don’t let go just yet.” he said quietly. “I like your hands there.”
If possible, her flush deepened. And, oh she was feeling a lot of things at the moment. She kept her hands where they were and said somewhat hoarsely, “My phone is in my purse.”
Lucien’s lips twitched and he moved a hand to slip inside her purse, the other still covering the hand locked on his suspenders. He held up her phone to unlock it with the Face ID then glanced at the screen, his face lit up in amusement. 
“I assume the group chat titled Morons is the one you’ll be sending my picture to.” he said, his thumb stroking the back of her hand still holding on to him. 
Finally shaken out of her stupor, Elain cleared her throat and licked her lips. Her lips that still tingled just a little from the force of his lips on hers. She flushed and suppressed a giggle. “Yes.” she said and released one suspender, leaving her other hand happily held hostage beneath his. “It’s my sisters and my brothers-in-law.” 
“Let’s take a selfie then, shall we?” he teased and Elain pursed her lips, willing herself not to smile. Or launch herself at him again. 
He turned his back to her, and kept her hand locked beneath his so it looked like Elain was hugging him from the side. Raising the phone, Lucien grinned and Elain couldn’t help her own smile at the camera. Snapping the photo, the two inspected it together and Elain laughed at the clear evidence of their make out.
“Oh, they’re going to have a hoot with this.” she mumbled. “Send it.” 
Lucien tugged her into him closer so that she hugged his back and he glanced over his shoulder at her. “You okay with me opening your group chat?”
She would be okay with him opening anything, but most especially her legs. Rather than embarrass herself further by saying that, she only nodded and watched him open the text chain, chuckle, then attach the image and send it.
Elain: *attached image* Found my mafia man ;)
“I didn’t say that.” she objected and Lucien twisted to face her with a knowing look. 
“You were absolutely going to text that.”
She was. But she wouldn’t admit it. Squinting at him, she opened her mouth to respond when her phone pinged and Lucien arched a brow.
“Do you want me to open that?”
“Nope.” she said quickly as several pings followed. “They can’t be trusted to behave themselves.” Finally, tugging herself away from him, she held out her hand for her phone. “Especially with how many texts are coming in, these assholes could be saying anything.”
“Well, it hardly seems fair that I can’t read what’s being said about me.” 
“I think we can find other ways to fill our time.” she said and instantly felt the shift in him.
“Ah, yes.” he said quietly. “Your research.”
“Yes. My — research.”
Lucien chuckled lightly and Elain watched as he glanced at her, his thumb coming up to gently graze her cheek. “Are you having second thoughts? Do you need me to kiss you again?”
Her cheeks heated as she watched his expression. She was very nearly ready to have him take her right then and there. “No second thoughts but I definitely, definitely think you should kiss me again.”
“And where would you like me to kiss you, my lady?” he asked, his voice dropping low and Elain had to swallow hard. She was past embarrassment at this point. She wanted to feel and be seen and touched. And god damn did she want this man between her legs in whatever way he was willing to be.
“Everywhere.” she answered. “I want you to kiss me everywhere.”
Lucien’s grin was wolfish at her response. “Well, aren’t you such a good girl.” he said in that voice she would have a grand time describing. “You gave me the exact answer I wanted to hear.”
morons<3
Feyre: Oh…oh wow Elain.
Nesta: Well that was fast.
Cassian: YOOOOOO
Cassian: RHYSSSSSS
Rhys: yo isn’t that Spell-Cleaver?
Cassian: iT’S FUCKEN LUCIEN
Cassian: love that guy he’s hilarious
Rhys: Holy shit it is Lucien
Feyre: You guys know him???? Feyre: Is he a normal person???
Nesta: He already has her lipstick on him. Nesta: Is she going to be safe with him?
Rhys: Oh yeah. He’s a good dude. Rhys: I remember him from uni days Rhys: We did business with his company a while back too. Straight forward, cool guy. 
Cassian: We see him in Az’s bar sometimes.  Cassian: But yo. Wasn’t he like, a hoe in college? Cassian: Elain is about to get her world rocked.
Nesta: CASSIAN.
Feyre: Cassian no.
Cassian: WHAT.  Cassian: I’m just saying based on the rumors we heard 
Rhys: Elain is def going to have a good time.
Cassian: Lulu is foxy in bed
Rhys: Gentleman on the streets
Cassian: freak in the sheets. Cassian:: AYYYYY
Rhys: AYYYYY
Feyre: I hate you both.
Nesta: I’m going to stab both of you in the throat the next time I see you.
Cassian: *smirk emoji* *heart emoji*
Nesta: *knife emoji*
Feyre: At least he’s hot. He really does give off mob vibes with that scar.
Rhys: You can’t say that Feyre darling. I’m right here.
Feyre: *middle finger emoji*
Nesta: I wonder if he’d be willing to be on the cover if he shows Elain a good time.
Feyre: I think so. He so willingly took the picture and gave his full name.
Nesta: He is attractive. His face would sell it. Nesta: Feyre. Nesta: FEYRE. Nesta: Her hand. Look at where her hand is.
Feyre: Oh…OKAY ELAIN.  Feyre: I like that he’s wearing suspenders. That’s attractive.
Rhys: Cassian. My feels are hurt bro.
Cassian: my feels are hurt too bro. they’re just ignoring us.
Feyre: Nes, take out tomorrow for deets?
Nesta: Yes, I want Chinese while grilling her.
Rhys: I’ll bring the drinks.
Nesta: You’re not invited. 
Cassian: Can you order me the dumplings?
Feyre: You’re also not invited.
Nesta: Sisters only. *X emoji* Nesta: I’ll bring us those nice face masks.
Cassian: I want a face mask.
Feyre: no<3
Rhys: But I love me a good face mask too.
Nesta: No. *middle finger emoji*
Cassian: Nes, if I let you peg me, can I come for face masks and chinese?
Nesta: for fucks sake cassian.
Rhys: HAHA
Feyre: god damn it Cassian
Rhys: I mean, Feyre darling if that’s what gets me a face mask and the tea…*smirk emoji*
Nesta: you’re both disgusting.
Feyre: *eyes roll emoji* No. Feyre: unless? *side eye emoji*
Nesta: FEYRE
Elain had finally stumbled home the following afternoon after being fucked six ways to Sunday and she found her sisters waiting for her with face masks, food, and wide eyes. Elain only grinned sheepishly and slumped against her door.
“I’m glad you’re alive.” Nesta said dryly and Elain waved her off with a hand, her grin wide on her face.
“That good, huh?” Feyre asked with her own grin.
“Yes.” she breathed, still thinking about Lucien and what he had done to her. At the way he had kissed her and touched her and fucked her. It hadn’t been good. It had been great.
Elain couldn’t remember a time she had been so enthusiastic to have someone fuck her. Then again, she had had only one partner and even in her fantasies, it hadn’t been like that. Elain bit her lip as a blush bloomed on her cheeks, her mind drifting back to a night like nothing she’d ever experienced before…
~
“I’m going to take, and take, and take from you, Elain.” he had whispered in her ear darkly. “And then my god am I going to give you. You understand?”
“Yes.”
“You’re going to be a good girl for me?” he had asked her while his hands caressed her bare skin. “Will you be the best girl for me? Because if you are, I’m going to make you come so hard you’ll see stars.”
“I’ll be the best girl.” she whispered and shuddered when his lips had kissed and licked their way down her neck, to her collarbones, and then to her exposed breasts. Her hands had come up to immediately cover them, flushing lightly as he looked up at her, quirking a brow in question.
“They’re — they’re small.” she said and Lucien shot her a look so disapproving, she thought he’d spank her. 
He had spanked her later on but at that moment, his hands had cupped one gently, and giving her one last look, his mouth descended on the other. Elain’s moans were breathy as he sucked and squeezed her breasts, switching between the two. He had only pulled away to ask her in a husky voice, “You like my mouth right here? Because I love these pretty little things so much.”
A strangled cry was the only reply she could give when he bit down on one gently and squeezed the other. Then switched and did it again. The sound that came out of her mouth had him pulling away with a smirk.
“Such sounds coming out of that lovely mouth.” he whispered, kissing the valley between her breasts. “You’re going to take my cock in your pretty little pussy and come when I tell you to?” he asked softly, sliding his hands up and smoothing back her hair. “Because I want to fuck you very, very hard, Elain. May I do that, please?”
She knew he could feel the wetness that pooled between her legs at the words and resisted the urge to arch against him. “I’ll take whatever you want to give me.” she breathed.
“You’re just an angel, aren’t you?” he whispered and left a light kiss on her lips. “So ready for me to use you and then take care of you. You want me to take care of you?”
“Please.” she nearly begged. “Please take care of me.”
“Then spread your legs a little wider for me, love. Let me see you in all your glory.”
And take care of her he had. 
It was like Lucien was made for Elain and Elain was made for Lucien.
After he had worshipped her between her legs, he lined himself up to her entrance with her legs around his waist, and Lucien watched her face as he slid into her the first time. And that moment, the moment he had filled her up to the hilt…Lucien knew this was different. Elain knew she wouldn’t be the same. The way he fit her had Elain never wanting to be without his cock again. And by the gods, had she wanted to feel how he fit her without a condom and have his come spill out of her.
Which would be insane of course, considering they had only met that evening. But these feelings, these intense emotions. Oh, she had all the inspiration she needed. 
It had only gotten better from there. He had flipped her over and feasted on her again before taking her hard and fast from behind. 
Elain never thought she’d be the kind of girl who enjoyed her face being pushed into the mattress like that but when it was Lucien’s hands holding her and his cock fucking her, she found she liked it a little too much.
And she also found that she liked it even more when he talked to her. In between their rigorous activities, they took breaks to chat and get to know the person they were baring themselves to. 
Elain found she liked Lucien and the way his mind worked a lot. Lucien found he felt the same about Elain.
And then Elain found she really wanted to suck the cock that made her feel so good. She had crawled toward him on his bed and draped herself across his legs, blinking up at him innocently.
“I want to make you feel good too.” she had whispered and Lucien had smiled at her, brushing her hair to the side.
“And how do you want to do that?”
“By taking you in my mouth.”
“No, you need to phrase that better, love.” he commanded softly, his thumb sliding across her bottom lip. “How do you want to make me feel good?”
“By sucking your cock.” she answered breathlessly. “I want you to come in my mouth.”
“It’s a good thing I want to come in your mouth too, princess.” he replied and then sat back, a king on his throne of a bed. “Show me what a good girl can do with that pretty mouth.”
And Elain certainly had, savoring the way he swore, the way his hands had tightened in her hair, and the way he barely held it together while her tongue played with him, especially as her own wetness dripped down her legs. Lucien had spilled in her mouth with such intensity, come had spilled down the sides of her mouth. She had swallowed as much as she could, like the good girl she wanted to be for him and Lucien’s grin had been feral at the sight.
Shortly after, he had spread her legs and returned the favor with his mouth and fingers then flipped her over and took her from behind a second time, pulling her up, his fist wrapped around her hair. “Look at your pretty swollen cunt, flower.” he had growled in her ear as she whined and panted to the rhythm of his thrusts. “You’re doing so good. It’s a perfect fit for my cock.”
“Please.” she had begged. As if he hadn’t been giving her everything she wanted and more. 
Lucky for Elain, Lucien had wanted to keep giving and taking. It was well in the AM that Elain had been fucked in every corner of his bedroom. She had come riding his dick and his face and his cock again, flopping rather unattractively on his bed with a little whimper after what she thought was the final fucking.
He had chuckled, his hands gently caressed her back and Lucien had paused for just a moment then smacked her plump little ass firmly. He had given her just one moment of reprieve then — a ragged cry escaped her lips as he pulled her hips back towards him, pulling her ass up the way he wanted. “I’m sorry, flower. I thought we were done but then your pretty little pussy —” he started as his hands slid to play with her and Elain couldn’t help the rocking of her hips against his fingers. Or the little needy moan that escaped her lips at how sensitive she was. “ — looks like it needs my cock one more time.” He had whispered and pulled his hand away so he squeezed her ass instead and slid it soothingly up her spine, his other hand fisting his cock slowly. “I love my hand on your throat,” he continued in his ear, and she shuddered against him. “But I love your face pressed in my sheets and the sweet, sweet sounds you make. What would you like?”
Elain had only arched her hips further for him and turned her head to meet his gaze. “Whatever you want to do.” she breathed. “I’m all yours.”
With a wolfish grin, Lucien had pulled her lips to his for a searing kiss and thrust into her to the hilt once more. He had told her she had one more orgasm in her and just like a good little girl, she obliged. 
Elain hadn’t remembered her name or anything about herself for the rest of that night. She only knew that she was in the arms of a man who had her body trembling in need and pleasure. Pleasure he had given her all night, pleasure he had given her the morning after he had made her breakfast, and pleasure he had given her right until he sent her home.
She had kissed him goodbye, her hand on the doorknob when his hand had slid up her dress and he had pushed her panties to the side, rubbing his fingers in the wetness of her heated center. He thrust two fingers inside her with a pleased hum.
“One more time before you go.” He had whispered in her ear as she braced herself against his door and rocked her hips to match the thrust of his fingers. “So I can savor your taste until I get you to myself again.”
She had made a desperate, filthy little noise as he played with her and pumped his fingers into her. He had whispered such dirty things in her ear and Elain had slumped against the door as she came with a choked cry. Lucien had only chuckled when he pulled away, his eyes locked on hers as he licked his fingers clean. 
Elain had left his house on shaking legs and her legs nearly started shaking again just reliving the memories.
“Well, shit. He must’ve really rocked your world.” Feyre said with a cackle and Elain blinked, her blush deepening as she finally remembered she was back at her apartment with her sisters waiting on her. Waiting on her to explain and not on her knees in front of Lucien and letting him do whatever he wanted to her.
Her sisters shared a look, both clearly holding back more laughs but Elain…well, she knew she had gotten all the inspiration she needed. Inspiration and maybe…maybe something more.
“Are you seeing him again?” Nesta asked, quirking a brow.
“For dinner tomorrow night.” she whispered. “And then for a date he’s planning the day after.”
“And more fucking, I presume?” Feyre asked, her lips twitching.
“Definitely more fucking.” Nesta added on with a snort at Elain’s flushed face.
“If I’m lucky.” was Elain’s reply and she straightened, feeling the effects of Lucien everywhere. “And I think I’m going to be very, very lucky.”
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doll-r-t · 1 year
Text
The Lost Pearl (Re-write)
Chapter 1-3
TW: angst, mention of war and blood
Word Count: 15k
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The Lost Pearl
Prologe
It was over. The war was won. 
The seas had settled, no longer were the storms harsh, and the sky dark. A breath of relief could be heard throughout the kingdom. But soon enough, the bells that signaled the victory of the united settlements stopped, and the silence settled in. It was compressing the air, making it sweltering hot. Not even the breeze of the saltwater and the gentle waves of the seaside could ease the pain of grief. So many men were lost. And it was not over yet. The world you new destroyed and the ones who survived grabbling to rebuild it. But how could you rebuild a world that was destroyed by war? Not even the Kingdom of Kingdoms, which seemed untouchable, had been spared by the enemy. And the enemy had forced the Woodland people out of their isolation of world politics, and they joined your people in the fight. 
The City of Stones was the capital of the Kingdom of Kingdoms. Located into the northwest lands spanning out into midlands which was called Velinemorion. It was called Kingdom of Kingdoms as it was united with Velinemorion (the capital Velinor) and the Southern Sea (the capital The Pearl), once kingdoms of its own before a war hundreds of years ago. The Southern Sea, located at southwest reaching out along the southern lands, bordering at its most southeast point the Wasteland a desert with no soil to cultivate food. And Velinemorion was at the north east border. The Woodlands, a kingdom that had isolated itself from the outside world for many decades, was located in the most northeastern Part of the World. Its terrain was diverse. In the southern part of the land it had woods so thick no sunlight could shine through. While mountains and hills litter its northern parts. However in the middle, the grass ruled the earth, miles and miles of crop fields. Cultivated for hundreds of years. 
And now all of you would rebuild this world together.
Chapter 1: The Aftermath
You saw no smoke in the sky anymore, storm clouds that had lingered throughout the war bathing everything gray had slowly disintegrated. Now with the sun shining again you could see the destruction of the land clearly. The houses bombed to rubles, Markets torn apart by raiders, cut down fruit trees. You sight deeply, turning away from the destruction you saw below your balcony, walking off into the castle. Yes, the war was won but now the reconstruction started. Who knows how long it would take and how hard it would be with so many lost people and the remaining ones grieving. The crop fields were destroyed, and the fish were scared off from the wars on sea. Yet, the war was won, you kept repeating to yourself. You made it, you got through and the Pearl was still standing. Your father and brothers would come home soon. You could still not believe that they had survived it. 
Breathing in deeply you put the silver net over your hair, pinning it in place with glass needles adorned with pearls. A gift from your father when you were fifteen. It was such a long time ago. Back then you had so many dreams. Admittedly, childish ones, you now knew. You had dreamed of finding a handsome lord, marriage, children, and a happy life at court. Sitting still and smiling being awed at in a beautiful dress. Acting coy with any man complimenting you, fully knowing how beautiful you were. Laughing with your friends and gossiping about the newest scandal. You almost laughed at that naive young girl but you felt sorry for her. She did not know what was to come. The terrible things she would see. And the things she would have to do.
Your father had gotten you the pearls for your pins for your fifteenth birthday and the war had started three years later. Just when you were off age, getting ready for suitors. You stared into your eyes searching them for the young woman you once were. Shaking your head you straighten your spine. Breathing in deeply you pictured all your emotions of grief, sadness and desperation. Picturing them as different things that you had found along the beach. You visualized picking them up and throwing them as far as you could into the sea. Waiting until the water had swallowed them whole. Opening your eyes, slowly, you let the familiar emptiness take over yourself. Whispering to yourself: “The people are only as strong as their leader.” You had no idea how often you said this to yourself. It must have been thousands of times. But it gave you strength. Reminding yourself of your role in the war. 
Brushing your hands down your dress you made sure it sat straight and proper on your body. As the outside should never portray the struggle within. Silently you thanked your etiquette teacher for drilling this into you. Once you were satisfied you walked out of your chamber. It was early still but no rest for the wary. You had tasks to do. Walking along the corridor down the stairs to the Foye. Maids and servants were running around, getting ready for guests and of course your father. Imrahil, High prince of the Southern Sea. Most people just called the palace the Pearl. It was made of white marble, shimmering faint pink in the sunlight. It was truly a beautiful place. Not that you had given it much thought. What is beauty worth when all the people are dead who could admire it? Leaving the Foye, you took the left corridor down deeper into the Palace. Swiftly you reached your study, well your father's study, without being stopped. It was a relief you did not want to engage in silly talks. Maria, the Head of maids, was making such a fuss. You could practically hear her say: “Oh, what linen should we use? The white or blue? Which would your father be more pleased about?” As if it mattered, not after everything. Sighing, you sat behind the dark oak desk. You were too harsh on Maria, she was a sweet old lady. She had helped raise you after your mother’s death and was a constant in your life that you were happy about. She just wanted to hold on to normality. Something you had abandoned a long time ago. Rubbing your forehead you began to review the many letters covering the desk.
Soon enough it was midday and a maid brought you something to eat. You acknowledged her with a nod. The steam of the dish was wafting over to you. It smelled delicious but you could not eat, not yet. You had so many letters from people asking for grain, and stone to repair their houses. Troubles in towns and worries of majors from settlements. When the war started, your father, Imrahil, had been called to the City of Stones. Some people just called it Starlight as it shone brightest in the dark. The city was a beacon for people, for a better life. Built in the biggest mountain in all the lands, the moon would illuminate it guiding lost people towards it.
Your father was there to counsel the King on the war. The different Sea-raider tribes from the Southern Sea, who had plagued your people for decades, had united under one banner to attack the Pearl and the City of Stones. The Pirates made an alliance with the Dunklings, or the lost ones, as your people called them. Lost ones, who had no home, no land of their own wandering the earth killing and plundering on their way. The Lost People had united to attack the northern region, Woodland. The Woodland was a once-close ally to the City of Stones before the broken treaty of Darrah almost seventy years ago. And now the King and the Captain of the north were trying to rebuild the once close friendship.
Soon after your father had left your brothers were called to defend their kingdom. Only your eldest brother, Armand, remained. He was entrusted by your father to lead the city and defend it. Armand had a wife, Aishwarya and a newborn son, Ibrah. You liked his wife very much. She stood up to your brother, who had the tendency to dismiss any female voice in favor of a male. Following his duties and the rules the high society had established rigorously.  
You glanced at the window. A soft breeze was coming in, soothing your overheated skin. Trying to remember your fathers and brothers faces, it became more difficult with everyday passing. Your nephew should be around four or five now. You had lost track. It had been so long since you had seen him. The only relief was the knowledge that your sister in law and nephew were safe. Far from battle. 
The City of Stone had a secret settlement hidden within the mountain not far from it. Most people did not know that. It was sealed, most ladies of the court and the heirs of the court were sent there at the beginning of the war. You were supposed to go too… 
More than 4 years ago:
You had helped Aishwarya, your sister-in-law, into the carriage. Closing your eyes you had held back tears. It was possible this was the last time you would see her. Her smile, loud laughter and the rattling of her many bangles on her arms. She had begged you to come with her. You knew she was scared. You should have been scared too. Aishwarya was a trained warrior before she married your brother Armand. If someone like her was scared then you should be terrified. But all you felt was sadness and slowly over time it turned into an emptiness that came to consume you. If you were to die you would do it here, with your people, where you grew up, the place you loved. It just was not right to go, to hide until the war was over. Leaving because you were privileged enough while there were children stuck in villages being slaughtered. 
“I would have done the same,” Aishwarya said, “but-.” Looking down at her boy. “I know.” You reassured her with a squeeze to her arm, kissing your nephew's head. “Take care sister. We will see each other again.” With these words, you shut the door and the carriage took off.
Rubbing your temple you sat back in your chair. You should feel relieved that the war was over. Your people had won and your family would be home again. You could return to mindlessly wandering about, having picnics, and gossiping about boys. Only you found you did not want to. You were happy with the role you had. Commander over the City. You pushed your chest out, holding your head high, proudly. Yes, you were the Commander of the Pearl, it brought a smirk to your face. You thought yourself untouchable. 
After your father and your two brothers had left your brother had been in charge, installed as Commander of the City, for over a year. But then your brother, Armand, had been called away. At first, the advisers took the place of the Commander, debating on what to do. Yet, that was all they were doing. Debating and fighting over what to do. Yet, when they failed to respond quickly to an attack via sea you had enough. You took control.
A little more than 4 years ago:
The next morning you wandered in the great hall, halting all talk. You stood in front of the table they sat at. Slowly making your way around the big marble stone table. Towards the tallest chair - the throne of the highest ranking. It was made of a slightly darker stone with gold ornaments pressed onto it. It was laced integratedly to mimicking waves. You halted in front of the High chair, your father would usually sit in. You mustered everyone, looking them straight in the eye. 
Slowly you took a step back. The silver sleeves of your gown swinging softly. You once more mustered the men in front of you. Reveling in the feeling of the thick, shocked silence. Then slowly you sat down. You sat straight, head high on the throne. Your arms laid on the armrest making yourself appear broader than you were. The throne was almost too big for you. The screams of your people were still ringing in your ears. Your eyes could hardly contain your furry. You had worn your crown, as it was your right as the highest-ranking princess in the Pearl, the heaviness of it reassured you. Pinned in place. Not moving, steady on your head, not an inch out of place.
You could see the shock in the faces of the old men. Not even your brother Armand had dared to sit in the high chair. He would only be allowed to when your father was dead. But you did not care for formalities. To do what was the right and proper way to conduct yourself. Which normally you mean for you, not to even be near a council meeting. All rules were bombed to rubbles by the canons of your enemies. Yes you could not care less,  the rage you felt was far worse. The screams of the people and the boom of the cannons steadily ringing louder in your ears. 
Abruptly you turned to a servant near to you. “Open the windows.” He immediately complied. Making his way hurriedly away from the table towards the thick curtains, partially drawn close, on the left side of the room. Pulling them aside sun came through the four meter tall door leading to a balcony. He went on to open the rest of the curtains among the wall left and then the right side. Revealing four tall widows. You had turned to the table waiting for the boy to finish watching the men in front of you intensely. You still had no expression on your face. Some men were about to say something but you held up your hand.
Nonetheless one of the higher ranking advisers, with white strainy hair and sun-damaged skin spoke up. “My Princess, it is not appropriate for you to be here.” His voice carried the message clearly. Here meant not only on the throne but in this room taking up space acting as if you could have anything to say. Your lip twitches, but not in amusement. Breathing in deeply, trying to quell the rage in you, so as to not lose your composure you leaned forward looking every single one in the eyes. “Turn to the windows.” By now the room was illuminated by the morning sun. Confused, they did what you said. “A red sun.” You said matter of fact as if you did not need to say more. Slowly you got up, wandering around the table towards the man who had spoken. The seam of your dress flowing behind you. The only noise in the room was the clicking of your shoes on the stone floor.
Once again after you let the silence linger you exclaimed “ A red sun.” This time louder, angrier, and looking directly at the man who had dared speak up earlier. After a few seconds you mustered every single man that you passed by while making your way around the table before going back to the throne. Confusion written on their faces. Ending up in front of the throne again, you finally showcased your anger on your face, not just your voice. “A red sun! A sunrise bathed in blood. The blood of our people because you were too incompetent to make a decision. Is that not right?” You hissed out. You turned to the advisor on your left. He looked at you in shock but seeing your anger he bowed his head. “Where was the strength of the Pearl yesterday? Where was the leadership we stood for? Where were you?” You had leaned over the table. Your voice echoing in the room, filling every corner of it. No one gave a response, too shocked to see a woman speak in such a manner. Releasing a breath you shook your head, walking over to the man that had spoken before. “Tell me, Lord Bergen, where exactly should I be? In my chamber embroidering dresses? Searching for a husband that can do the talking for me? Crying in fear and panic running into the arms of a man?” You smirked, not truly wanting him to answer it. His hands were gripping his armrests, hardly containing his furry at being spoken to like that by a woman. The smirk on your face slowly disappeared as you leaned in, getting right into his face. Bearing your teeth to him like a wolf ready to rip out its opponent's throat. His eyes were glazed over with anger. But that is what you wanted. “I would do such things but unfortunately I do not see any men here worthy enough.”
With that, you turned around going back to sit on the throne. “From now on I will be Commander of the City.” Protest rang out. “SILENCE. Since you are so incompetent I see no other choice. And may I remind you I am the princess of the Southern Sea. High Princess of the City of Stone by my father's line. First in generations. Heiress to the throne of the Sea and Stone if my brothers and father do not return and the king dies.” This quietened the men. Yet, the silence was overshadowed by the blood rushing in your ears, your heart pumping wildly. You were sure your hands would shake from the adrenaline coursing through your body. But when you straightened yourself and sat forward on the throne your hands were steady. You had never felt more powerful than in this moment. The look of utter shock, disdain in some faces and uneasiness in others was addicting. You had never been looked at like this before. Like you were seen for the first time. Not as something pretty to be admired. A glance that was spared your way because of a beautiful dress. But because of your words. Because you did not allow for them not to look at you, not to hear you, not to see you.
  "Good.'' You interrupted the silence. “Now that we have established who is in charge here I will establish the rules. If I find that you are plotting against me or my people I will personally execute you. If you speak to me in a manner that I find not befitting you will lay your head to rest in the dungeons until you have learned your lesson. If you withhold things from me you will receive the mark of a traitor.” Slightly leaning forward.  “No one will ever give you work again. You will be an outcast.” Breathing in you settled more comfortably on the throne. “Is that understood?” They nodded in agreement. “If anyone wishes to leave the council then say so. I will not hold it against you and no punishment will befall you.” You waited until finally, the man that had addressed you earlier stood up. Looking you in the eyes with one last look of disdain before leaving the hall. Two more men followed. “Very well.” You spared them no second glance, grabbing the papers that lay in front of the advisor to your left.” “Now, business.'' You looked over the papers quickly. Even though you knew what your first order had to be. Laying down the documents to read later you went on “We need to rebuild our defenses and a rapid response team to combat intruders before the cavalry arrives.”
This little encounter still brought a smile to your face. The power you felt was a rush, and the rush never stopped. It was like you were made to lead. The council soon noticed it too. They came to you willingly asking for advice or informing you of rumors they heard. Although you suspected it was only so because they were glad that they had a leader again, even if it was a woman. They were advisors after all. They were not meant to lead. Not like you were. Even so, soon whispers began to arise, the heart of the pearl they named you. You paid it no mind although it satisfies you greatly. Not until it was announced your father and brothers would come home. At first, you were happy, and relieved but soon reality settled in. When your father was home no one would be interested in hearing what you got to say. He would take charge again leaving you to your ‘womanly duties’. Throwing down the letter you had read over and over and yet still could not remember anything from it, you leaned back in your seat. Rubbing at your eyebrow. Looking around the office. Shelves filled with books, a painting of the seaside your mother had made hung across the desk on the wall. You felt ashamed of the mixed feelings you have towards your father's return but could not help feeling this way. A knock pulled you out of your thoughts. An excited Maria stuck her head through the door. “It is time. They are almost here.” Giving her a forced smile you nodded in thanks. She closed the door, her hurried footsteps echoing through the corridors. Many ladies of the court had returned last week. But your family was still needed in the City of Stones advising the King. But now they were on their way, almost home. Maybe half an hour away. They always sent a rider to inform the court to prepare the welcome wine. You laid your hand on the table, feeling its smooth wood, spreading your fingers. Taking it in as if it was for the very first time, or more accurately the last. You straightened your spine, held your head high as if a crown sat atop of it. Remembering the rush of adrenaline from your first day of ruling, wishing you could stay here forever. However, this was an enemy you could not beat. Resolutely you stood up, making your way out of the office, down the left corridor back to the Foye. The servants and maids were lined up by the entrance waiting for any instructions you might have.
“Is the wine and bread ready?” The servant nodded. “What about the chambers? Is everything in order?” The maid nodded. You should have asked them sooner. Should have taken better care of running the household. It would be your duty until your sister in law was here. Before she had married your brother it had been your duty but after it befell to her as the wife of the future High King. Aishawarya had insisted on staying with Armand in the City of Stones and returning only when he would. But Ibrah, your nephew got sick and so she would have to stay behind a couple of days until he was fit for travel. Armand could not delay; he had to return with your father to the Pearl. 
You asked the maids and servants a couple more questions before moving along down the hall. It was not like the staff would be able to do anything now. Your father was almost here. Turning around you looked at the decorations, not much but to be expected after a war. War does not care for flowers or anything growing. At least the cook was preparing a good meal that should satisfy him. At the thought of food, you remembered the untouched meal in your fathers study. You hated to waste food since it was so scarce now. Yet, you hardly had time for things like eating. Maria had often scolded you on your lack of self care. 
“And who will lead us if you are to starve to death?” She had her hands on her hips, her eyebrows raised. As much as you wanted to be mad at the plump woman with her chipped nails and dirty apron, for her impertinent speech, you did not have it in you. She had been a second mother to you. “Besides, you are horribly mood when you do not eat.” She went on to jest. It was true. You were not good company when your blood sugar dropped.
Maybe that is why you were so irritated now.
Chapter 2: A Father’s return 
Just as you were about to check on the dining hall the sound of a horn caught your attention. Stepping out of the Foye onto the stone platform that oversees the city, beneath you, you saw riders in white and blue riding towards the gate. The steps leading up to the stone platform had suffered some damage but were the least destroyed part of the city so you did not care to repair them. If your father had an issue with what you had done that would be his problem, from now on. Swallowing hard you tried to get rid of the sour taste in your mouth. The calls from the townspeople could be heard throughout, signaling the high prince and princes were in the city, riding up to the palace. You closed your eyes for a moment taking it in. Your chest was tight and it was hard to breathe. How long had you longed for this? Wishing the war was over yet better all a dream? Then what was that feeling in you?
Just when you opened your eyes your father rounded the corner. He looked older than you remembered, his dark hair had streaks of white in them and his beard looked like a mixture of salt and pepper. You wanted to run to him, fling yourself in his arms. Making him spin you around like the times when you were a kid to chase away the tightness in your chest. He only ever spun you around in the privacy of your chambers. It was not proper to show such affection in public, according to the high society at court. Yet, you stayed rooted to your spot. You were not the impulsive little girl anymore, who demanded to be hugged, anyway. You have learned a great deal of control over the past years. Yet, still you could feel tears clawing at your eyes demanding to fall. Taking in another breath you suppressed your them, straightened up, and put on a polite smile.
Your father swiftly dismounted his horse, striding towards you, taking off his helmet. Passing it to a servant carelessly never taking his eyes off you. Now you could clearly see the dark lines underneath his eyes and the wrinkles around his mouth. He looked so different. It made you wonder. Did you change?
“My beloved daughter.” Were the first words he spoke. Even his voice was different, instead of the dark smoothness, he sounded hoarse. Slowly, as if it was a dream he lifted his hand and caressed your face. You closed your eyes for a moment enjoying your father's warmth. Then he did something that took you by surprise. He hugged you tightly to him, releasing a deep breath. Whispering again and again. “My beloved daughter.” You did not know how to react to the open affection. Seconds went by and he was still hugging you to him so slowly you lifted your arms gripping his elbows, giving them a tight squeeze before stepping back. Your heart was beating widely when finally you gasped out: “Father, welcome home.” You had tried to keep a blank face but the emotions overwhelmed you. So before he could see the conflict in your eyes you turned around. First taking a cup of wine and then a piece of olive bread from the servants and giving it to him. He was still looking at you, with tired eyes and an unreadable expression. The same unreadable expression you have mastered now. After a couple of seconds, he broke his gaze, taking the wine and turned toward the crowd beginning his speech. However you were still rooted in your spot next to him. It was not common for someone to stand next to the High Prince while he gave his speech unless it was another ruler. But he had not said anything to you and it came so naturally for you now to stand there. Not even noticing that you did it.
While your father spoke you let your own eyes wander. You could see your three older brothers. Armand, the oldest and most dutiful. Ethos, the middle child and the most gentle one. Lastly, Amros the youngest of your brothers and the wildest. Armos had his arm in a sling, Ethos had a scar running along his face, and Armand had bruises littering his hands and face.
They were mustering you with the same intensity your father had, so you averted your gaze. You had heard nothing from what the High Prince said but could imagine. It was always the same. You had given this speech too. At once your brothers came up the stairs, and were handed wine that they promptly drank. Your father turned and went into the palace, Armand followed immediately as did you. Walking next to him. He ignored you, but hastened his steps. Realizing that it was not your place anymore to walk amongst the high ranking you slowed your steps. Letting Ethos take over you. Before the war you had always walked behind your brothers. Now this was something you would have to get used to again. Acting according to your station. Which in this case meant walking last. Suddenly an arm was flung over your shoulders, making you flinch and reach for your dagger hidden in your dress. Before you could do anything, Amros' voice rang out. “My, my, my!'' He had the same jesting voice as you remembered. “Sister, have you grown?” He grinned at you. You could not help but fall into the old pattern of rolling your eyes. He was only a year older than you so you two always got into trouble together. “Oh, oh. Do not let Maria see you roll your eyes she will get the wooden spoon.” He wagged his finger in your face. You elbowed him in the side making him flinch harder than necessary. You made a note that he was also injured in his ribs. He let go of you, sending a winking your way before sauntering to the next servant grabbing another cup of wine.
The feast was long and awkward. You had felt so uncomfortable that you had made a beeline for the throne. It was where you felt most secure. Yet, when you were about to sit down you saw the shocked faces of the people around you and the silence accompanied by it. It caught you off guard, making you aware that your father was standing next to you. You quickly straightened again and gave a quick bow as if you just wanted to show your respect again. With every step you took you felt heavier until you almost collapsed onto your chair from the sheer weight of it all. You had moved three chairs down. Sitting on the fourth, and the sour feeling in your mouth returned with full force. Armand had the first chair next to your father. Then Ethos and then Amros. It stung. Now that the war was over you were just a woman again. 
Your father settled into his office quickly. Amros was already womanizing again and Armand was looking after his duties. Ethos was gone for the most part you had no idea where he was and you did not care. You struggled to fit into the normal again. It made you angry, you felt powerless, like a puppet just a thing to look at and pick up whenever one pleased. The adviser still greeted you but did not seek your advice anymore. And as the weeks went by the greetings turned into polite nods, expected of them due to your station. You felt lost, like a stranger in the only home you had ever known. No one needed you anymore. Instead of leaving your chamber before sunrise and returning long after dark you only left for supper. Where your father insisted you eat together like a family.
A knock startled you. “Come in.” You called out. Your father's head appeared behind the white door to your chambers. You put your book down in question. You were still in your white nightgown seeing no sense in getting dressed. Since your father had gotten back, you had spent most of your days in your room staring out of the window or pretending to read. “Hello, my little flower. May I come in?” You nodded pointing to a chair across from you. His walk was assured as usual but his eyes betrayed him. Something was up. You immediately straightened. Did something happen? Did someone attack again? He sat down, looking out the window. You waited for him to speak. He breathed heavily, finally turning to you. He took the book out of your hand and laid it on the table. Then he wrapped his big, rough hands around yours. You made note of the scars littering his knuckles. Finally, he spoke: “I wanted to thank you, and apologize.” You looked at him in question. He caressed your hands. “My beloved daughter, my advisers made me aware of what you have done for us. For our people.” You looked down at your lap not able to hold his eyes. “You were strong when we needed you the most. I just wish you did not have to do it.” “Father-.” He held his hand up silencing you. “After your mother died I have to admit  I was worried. I had no idea how to raise a daughter.”
You did not, you thought, Maria did. “And I am sorry if I have not given you the acknowledgment you deserved.” Your heart skipped a beat at the admittance. Finally, he saw. Surely word must have reached him of your actions. How you had successfully defended the city. Maybe he would ask you to be on his council for the after-war reparations. After all, you had already started planning. You grabbed his hand lightly. Urging him to go on. “But I want you to know that you do not need to be strong anymore. I will take care of everything again. I do not want you to worry.” Your back stiffened. Your grip loosened on his hands. A dull ache sets in your body, making your bones heavy. You looked straight ahead focusing on the brown freckles on his nose rather than his eyes, trying to keep a neutral face and not betray the anger you felt towards him right at this moment. How could he do this to you? Could he not see how much you had grown? How you were not the little girl anymore with silly thoughts, running around with your girlfriends. How you were a woman capable of leading. Maybe even better than Armand, even though you would never dare say this out loud. At once you pulled your hands back, standing up. “You do not need to worry about me, father.” Your tone held an edge at the word father, almost spitting it out. 
You picked up your book and walked towards your bookshelf on the other side of the room. You needed to compose yourself before you went on. With a steady voice you claimed “I just did my part in the war.” He watched you go your spine stiff and your face blank. “Yes, yes you did.” He mumbled to himself, looking down at the floor. He felt a sadness settle into him.
The first time after so many years when he finally saw his daughter he did not recognize you. He just saw a woman, with hard lines across her mouth and sharp eyes. Not the bright-eyed mischievous girl you were before he left. It broke his heart when he realized the woman with the hard lines was his daughter. 
He stood up, and hesitantly made his way over to the door. He stayed for a moment, turning around, and walked towards you. Gently he kissed the side of your head and left. You had not turned to him.
Your father walked down the corridor away from you with dread in his heart. His daughter had lost her spark and it was his responsibility to bring it back. And he knew how. Imrahil went straight to his study, barking at his guards that no one was to disturb him. He put all the letters, strewn across his desk, aside. They could wait. Pulling out another sheet of paper he began to write. My dear friend,... 
When he was at the City of Stone the attacks were vicious. Blood, smoke and screams everywhere. It smelled of death and he had yet to get the smell out of his nose. It came back to him picture after picture. The desk in front of him slowly disappears, replaced by red stained grass and carnage. His hands held the writing feather tightly, almost breaking it in two. Stabbing the paper as if it was an enemy. His ears rang and he had to close his eyes for a second, breathing deeply.
3 Months ago: The Battle of The City of Stones
The enemies had broken through the last line of defense. There were just too many. He tried to keep an eye out for his sons but had lost them early on. Panting he leaned against a broken stone wall trying to catch his breath for a second. He tried to remember his daughter’s face, the way she laughed and even though he could not picture her, did not know what she looked like now, his daughter brought him great joy and strength. He grabbed his sword tight and rounded the corner. Immediately he was engaged in the battle again. Even if it was a lost cause he would still fight. Not because he hated the enemy but because he loved his family, his sons, his daughter, his grandson and his late wife. Even though they would lose the war, kill his people and everything he held dear to him they could not take his love in all its forms away from him. He would carry that into the next life and the life after. 
Imrahil tumbled to the ground, a dagger stuck in his right shoulder. He could taste blood in his mouth, the smoke burned in his lungs. This was it, he thought. Goodbye my sons, goodbye daughter. I wish I could have seen you one last time. But I am coming to you now, my beloved wife. He had lost the battle. The enemy raised his sword ready to plunge it into his heart when suddenly his opponent gave a terrible screech. His attacker lost the tight grip on his sword. The leg that was holding Imrahil down stumbled off him. Then they heard it, the horns of the Woodland men. He had never heard anything like it. The sound went through his entire body leaving goosebumps behind. I am sorry my beloved wife but our reunion will have to wait. Quickly he reached for his own sword and struck his enemy down. The Woodland men came to their aid and not long after the first horn was blown the battle for the City of Stones, the beacon of hope for his people, was won. 
One thing he imminently picked up upon with the Woodland people was that they were not people of false politeness. They were strong, direct, and had no regard for the structured court life. The men were equal. The leader slept with his men in tents outside of the city although he was offered a warm bed inside the palace. They were simple and straightforward people. Ashamedly, Imrahil thought he would have looked down upon this in his youth but now he respected it. The memory of the horrified looks of higher ranking monarchs when they saw how unkempt and almost wild the north men were brought a smile to his face. 
Imrahil’s study:
Nodding, Imrahil opened his eyes. Reaching for a new, un-stabbed sheet of paper he smirked at his plan. You might not like it but it would do you good. 
A fortnight later he received a reply. Breathing a sigh of relief he got up making his way to your room. You hardly came out anymore. And everytime he saw you, you had this blank face. Even his younger son Amros had picked up on it. Even though he was the most oblivious of his children. Although his sons had seen great horror they still smiled and laughed. Even if just for a moment to drive away darkness with joy. You on the other hand did not. You politely raised your lips, but it looked more like a grimace than a smile. Imrahil sighed. Your father could not remember the last time you laughed. Truly laughed, not the false politeness reserved for high society. It was a sound he deeply missed. He knocked on your door. Your empty voice called out for him to enter and as always the emptiness in your voice resulted in an ache in his heart. Yet, this time it made him more resolute. Breathing in, he entered with a small smile on his face. “Good morning, my daughter.” You were dressed in a light blue gown sitting at your usual spot by the window. 
He went across your room sitting in the chair opposite of you. He had to proceed carefully with his plan. “I just got a letter.” 
You raised your head looking at him in question. Good he at least had your attention. He leaned in as if to tell you a secret as he had done when you were a child, even if what he had to say was anything but a secret. It always made your eyes sparkle. You were always eager for information, of any kind. He had not realized at the time how willing you were to learn about everything, how curious and cunning you were. It was only when reports of one of his closest friends Eiden, the Head of Guards, reached him that he realized. The report talked about how you lead with sureness, a cool head and cunning unlike anything Eiden had ever seen. But now you did not lean forward. You kept looking at him with the same schooled mask of indifference. He suppressed a sigh. Clearing his throat he continued “You know my advisers called you silver tongue with a certain kind of steel. They speak highly of you and-.” He paused for a moment.
Oh Gods, since when had it gotten so hard to talk to his own daughter. Leaning back on his chair he started again. “You have grown up to be a beautiful woman. You know the ins and outs of court, you are a diplomat-” “What is this about?” You interrupted him. A couple of years ago you would not have dared to do so. But you developed into a no-nonsense woman. Your father looked at you shocked but slowly a smile formed on his lips. “Yes, your mother also did not like my rambling. But let me explain. The war destroyed many things but it also reformed our world. We once were good allies to the Woodland men and now we are again. I do not know if you know but Ceallach the sister of the leader is engaged to Eothin, your cousin.” You nodded. “Once she is married to him she will live in our court. The Woodland men do not have the same customs as we have. Therefore, I wanted to ask if you would help her?” He finished, taking a deep breath. “Help her? How?” Your face had not changed throughout your fathers rambling. Although you observed him closely. Trying to figure out where he was going with his little speech. “You know the ins and outs of court. You have lived both here and in the Stone City. You are a high princess.” He broke off for a second. Looking intently at you. “The only one.” He held up his hand silencing you before you could even attempt to speak. “And you are the only one I can trust to keep the relationship friendly. Having someone help their leader's sister in court showcases a willingness to work to form a bond. Besides-.” He looked to the side, breathing out. “We owe them. After what they did for us on the battlefield.” He broke off and you knew he would not say another word. After a few minutes of silence you finally agreed. “I’ll help her.” You said offhandedly, sipping your tea. Over the rim of your mug you watched your fathers reaction closely. You knew how it worked to sweet-talk someone into something. You just could not figure out why this was so important to him that you do so. It was true you grew up in court but so did other ladies. Your father smiled at you. “Thank you, my little flower.” He kissed the top of your head and walked towards the door. “I will send the servants to help you pack and to get you warmer clothes. It is cold in the north.” You looked at him in confusion. But before you could say anything he slipped out of your room. You released an aggravated sigh. That is why he was sweet-talking. She was not coming here, you were coming to her.
Chapter 2: The Woodlands
You sent away the servants who came to help you pack and to make a list of all the things you might need. You wanted time to think. Tapping your finger on the wooden chair you grind your teeth together. A bad habit you had acquired over the last few years. Your initial reaction was to go to your father and refuse. Set him straight that he cannot come into a home he had not been in for years, take over leadership again and send you off to make some woman a lady. How ridiculous. But the more you thought about it the more you found you wanted to go. Leave this place. It felt like a cage made out of Marble stone and the sea's side was rising. Eventually, it would drown you. You got up slowly, your joints aching from the long sitting. You walked over to your wash table picking up a white hairbrush, with gold ornaments adorned with a pink flower. Your mother used to brush your hair with this while singing to or telling you stories. You had not used it in years. Ever since your mother had died. But now you sat down, removed the pins and hairnet and brushed your hair. You wanted to hum but the sound got stuck in your throat. You closed your eyes imagining your mother’s hand holding the brush. “If the one way does not work well then you try another.” The deep but gentle voice of your mother whispered in your ear.
Softly you asked the thin air. “But what is my way mother?” Not for the first time you longed for her guidance. Suddenly you heard the horses down at the stable neighing.
Opening your eyes you went to the door calling out for your maid. It was time to pack. You were going to the north.
The ride was tedious. You said goodbye to your family over a week ago. Amros was so mad at father for sending you away. He did not understand. Your family had just got together again so why would you leave? But father had not budged and neither had you. Ethos just hugged you tightly, giving you a small smile. Armand had just nodded. You would be staying over winter so your father had sent letters to tailors in Warhorse, the Palace of the Woodlands, where you would be staying. Everything should be ready when you arrive. It was not necessary to wear warm clothes in the south so you had none, in fact you had never experienced a real winter. And no tailor here had any fabric warm enough to fashion clothing for you. You had passed the way that led to the Stone City and were now riding through small villages along the way. You would cross into Woodland territory at any moment. You had never been outside of the Kingdoms of Kingdoms. It made you a bit nervous even though you made sure not to show it. Your father had given you a carriage and you gladly accepted. The way was too long to ride for an untrained person. He sent half a dozen men with you to keep you safe until you crossed the border. Then you would be escorted by the northern men. You had heard about them growing up. They were different from your people, more wild and brutish they said. You reminded yourself they are allies now you cannot have preconceived notions about them.
Suddenly a horn sound drifted towards you. You had never heard a sound like that; it was rough almost like a war cry. You felt a rush go through you and the arms on your hair rise. The carriage halted. You looked out the carriage window but you could not see anything. “What is going on?” You called out to one of the soldiers. Where are we under attack? You thought.  Your hand drifted to your dagger. The cold metal grounding you. 
The soldier guarding you appeared at your door. “The Northmen are here, we crossed their border.” You nodded in thanks. Straightening your spine you checked if your hair was still in its net. Then stepped out of the carriage.
You were greeted by a wall of horses. Around two dozen men. You were surprised by the manpower in front of you. Why were there so many men? You’d almost think that we were still at war. 
The horses were big but the men atop them seemed even bigger. Broad, most of them with long hair covert in fur. You realized that you had not moved since seeing the men. So you made your way with ease only a woman of high rank possessed towards them. Two men dismounted the horse and came towards you and your men. They took off their helmets revealing unkempt beards. One had long blond hair with braids, while the other one had a shaved head. The one with the buzz cut stepped forward bowing slightly. You reciprocated with courtesy. The first thing you noticed about him was how dirty he was. His boots were covered in mud, as were his pants. His leather vest seemed worn. Hm, you thought, seems like the rumors were true the north men were wild. He mustered you for a second too before speaking. “My Lady, I am here to escort you back to Warhorse.” The corners of your mouth lifted a little, giving him one of the supposed polite smiles you had been taught in court. “Thank you, my lord. I am Princess Y/N. Pleased to make your acquiescence.” You had purposefully said, Princess. It was a natural response to you now to establish that you were in power, higher ranking. But your heart stopped when he said: “Pleased to meet you as well, Princess.” You did not like the tone he had used on the word Princess, like he was mocking you. But before you could say anything he straightened himself even more, he looked almost as tall as a tree now, and broad like a bear. You had to admit if you were an enemy on the battlefield you would be intimidated. 
“I am the leader of the Woodland people, Captain Syverson.” He smirked. 
Shit.
He ranked higher than you and he knew you knew it. And now your first words to the leader were scolding him for how he had addressed you. Why had you not informed yourself on what the leader looked like? Had he nothing better to do than escort someone? You had hardly cared to look at the map of the Woodlands, too preoccupied with the want to leave the Pearl. Now you were reaping the rotten fruit of your labor. 
“Shall we?” You could only nod. This was going to be a long winter. 
Chapter 3: The Riders of the North 
The first thing you noticed was the tension in the men. They hid it well, sitting straight atop their horse as if they were out for a leisure ride, but one could tell when looking at their eyes. It was hard to see them, their helmets covered most of their faces. But one glance was enough. They were watchful, almost like hawks waiting for prey. This posed the question if your allies were truly the predator or if Dunklings were hiding somewhere, thinking of you as the prey. It did not matter, you kept your eyes open too. Not just because of the danger but also because of the landscape. It was so different from home. Wide-open fields, rampaged by war but it was still here, still growing. You always admired the resistance of nature. So much had been destroyed for war, on both sides, and yet green still lay on the earth like a blanket instead of a wasteland. You thought it would be well deserved if nature stopped growing, and left people to starve and despair at the welted green blanket. On your right, the woods were dark and deep, for miles. While on the other side were hills ending in a mountain sight. You wondered if you would go up there. It would make sense to set up a camp there. High ground, good view, no place for a sneak attack. But you did not go up there, you kept straight on the fields. Your hand was still on your dagger. You had not been out in the open since the beginning of the war.
The landscape was different and you had no idea where exactly you were. If something was to happen you had no idea where to go. It made you uneasy. You held your dagger tighter, the steele dug in your hand, it reassured you. And, you wondered if you would ever stop reaching for your dagger when hearing weird noises. You spent the better part of your day looking out of the carriage. You had passed a few villages. If you could even call it that, most of them were destroyed. But the people that were still left greeted the men, and looked curiously at the carriage, you always duked away. Not ready to be seen yet by people that you knew nothing about. You had tried to find something about the Woodland people but it was not much, admittedly you had not searched very hard. Mostly it talked about how they were not people of scriptures but people of stories. They would pass down their history by word, not by writing. It was frustrating, to say the least. Even in your younger years, you were an avid reader. Your mother had always tucked you into bed and read a story cuddling you to sleep. It was only you two. Women time she called it. Sometimes she would sneak down to the kitchen with you and make you a hot chocolate and sneak sweets up to your room. She always hushed your giggles. Now you realized that it was impossible to do these things sneakily. She must have told the servants in advance to clear the path. You had stopped reading for a long time after your mother's death. Opening them but never actually starting. Now you are an avid reader again. Your father had laughed when he found out the trunks you took with you were mostly books. It made only sense to you, if they only relied on oral tradition then they would not have books so you had to bring your own.
You had not realized that your mind had wandered, not paying attention to your surroundings, too lost in your past. So when the carriage stopped you snapped back. The sun was slowly going down, but no houses were in sight. You rightened your dress and cloak, tucking the single straint that had escaped your hairnet back into it. Making yourself as presentable as possible. But no one got you. So you stayed put for a while just watching as men started to pull up tents and make fires. Great, you thought, tomorrow I will be as dirty as they are. After waiting for what felt like an eternity, you huffed, opening the carriage and got out yourself. You stepped out of the carriage, walking over to the Captain. You could feel the eyes of the men on you. Whether they were scrutinizing you or looking you up you had no care. The court in the City of Stones was far more brutal. The Captain had not yet noticed you, too busy discussing something with the man with the long blond hair.  You could not make out what they talked about. The twang in their voices was more prominent, and you struggled to understand it.
You stood a couple of feet away from them, and when you had enough of being ignored, you cleared your throat. Had they no manners? “I am sorry to interrupt Captain Syverson.” You bowed your head lightly. He turned towards you. Before you could speak again he cut you off. “I am sorry Princess. I should have come and got you. We are camping here tonight.” He began walking past you towards the tent. You sent the man with the long hair a tight-lipped smile and began following the Captain. You were not particularly fond of being interrupted, nor being made to follow like a lost puppy. But you did anyway. He walked up to one of the bigger tents. “This will be yours.” He opened the flap showing you a small bed, a bucket with water, and a small makeshift table. “The water is clean but cold.” You looked up at him, there was something in his eyes, a twinkly-like amusement, and a small smirk almost hidden behind his beard. “I hope you will have a good night here Princess.” Now it was clear to you. He was trying to get a rise out of you. Smiling politely at him you answered, in your sweetest voice. “Thank you, Captain. So thoughtful to prepare some water for washing. And to pick a place where you can put the carriage right next to my tent.” The carriage had been put further away from your tent outside of camp but if he wanted to get a rise out of you so could you. You looked at him through your lashes. “It is true what they say.” The smirk was gone from Syverson’s face. “And what is it that they say, princess?” Stepping a bit closer you smiled up at him. “You truly are a master of strategies. Setting up my tent the way it will be covered by the carriage, me not having to go down to the stream to get water or getting a cold by sleeping on the hard ground. I am truly glad to be under your care.” With that, you walked into the tent. He was trying to elicit a reaction out of you maybe for your mistake earlier. Whatever it was you would not give him the satisfaction. Syverson just smirked and shook his head.
Calling out for the men to move your carriage to your tent. As if they had nothing else to do, he thought. “So how is the princess? I hope her accommodation is to her satisfaction.” Ocre threw his long hair over his shoulder smirking at Sy. “Well, what can you say, Princesses.” Syverson shot back. Both grinning at each other. “I still do not know why you agreed to this. We don’t need a Princess wandering around, we have enough to do.” Syverson sighed his friend never held back his opinion as long as they were alone. Although he treated his men as equals he still had to make sure that they knew he was in charge. “Imrahil is my friend, we fought side by side. He helped my sister when she snuck onto the battlefield. I owe him. Besides, her cousin is my sister's fiance. No matter how much I dislike my sister's engagement plans she will need all the help she can get. You saw how the people looked at us as if we were brutes. She will need help to learn their court and what better way than a Princess.” Syverson shrugged.
Besides, he added in his head, once his sister sees the way the fine people of the court look down on her she may change her mind and not leave him. He rubbed his head walking towards the fire. He needed food. It was a long exhausting day and he just wanted to sleep for a few hours. Just as he was about to sit down and the cook Jordan handed him a plate he groaned. He was not the most gracious host, he had not helped you out of the carriage he could not not inform you of the food being ready.
He rightened himself again walking towards your tent. “Princess?”  He got no reply. “Princess?” he tried again. He yet again got no reply. Gripping his sword he entered your tent. It was empty. “Shit.”
He sprung out searching frantically for you. He should have positioned guards, he cursed. Now he lost the high Princess. If Imrahil, your father, got wind of this it would start a new war. Sweat started to moisturize his hands, clenching his jaw he tried to get his wildly beating heart under control.   A noise came out of the carriage. Running around he drew his sword ready to attack anyone. But instead, he was greeted by your behind. He halted in his step, staring at you. You had climbed onto the back of the carriage, a trunk was open and you were bent over it, nearly falling in. “In need of help, Princess?” He growled out, his temple pulsing. You yelped not having heard him. You almost fell if it was not for Syverson’s quick reflexes. He grabbed your waist holding you up. You stilled in his arms, going rigid at his touch. He quickly lifted you down, setting you, maybe a bit too roughly, on the ground again. You had a surprised expression on your face and he would laugh if he was not so angry. He stepped into your personal space. “I hope you are aware, Princess, that just because the war is over does not mean the enemy is defeated and it is all sunshine and roses again.” You stood up, brushing any dirt from your dress, before squaring your shoulders. “I am well aware of that Captain.” You said taking a step towards him. You were not about to be belittled by some brute. You stepped even closer, showing him that you were not afraid of him. Even if his eyes were trying to burn you alive and his hands were clenching at his side. Your chests were almost touching. He was heaving,  struggling to suppress his anger. “I am in danger right now.” This confused the Captain, he immediately looked around but could not see anyone. You could not mean him, could you? He stepped back as if you had slapped him. Even though women in his culture were hardened not only by war but also by the rough weather they were supposed to be treated as something precious.
Rubbing over his beard. You were watching him like a hawk, confused by his reaction. But you let nothing show, your blank expression reestablished on your face. He was about to apologize when you went on. “I am in danger of having forgotten the most important thing.” You pointed at your trunks. Oh for fucks sake. Gods help me, he thought, he would rather deal with two dozen enemies on his own than spoiled Princesses.. He brushed past you pulling down your trunk and walked to your tent. He had to hold onto something or else he would throw you over his shoulder and bind you to your carriage so you would not run off again. Gripping the handles tightly in anger he marched to your tent. Syverson began to doubt if he did the right thing, agreeing with Imrahils request. He put the trunk down in your tent. You had been following quietly. Observing him. His back was tense and you felt a little bit guilty for just leaving. But you were not used to being on this open field and not doing as you pleased. When you realized that your book was not in your bag in your tent you began to panic. Running outside searching through your trunks. Once he set it down, you pushed past him opening the trunk. Clothing was stacked in it. You could hear a snort from him. Yet, you ignored it. Pushing the clothes carelessly from the trunk. You reached for the stacks of books hidden underneath. Now Syverson was intrigued. What was it that you were searching for? A silk gown? Your wash clothing? Probably considering your clean-cut look. He mustered you again. Even after practically falling into your trunk, you were put together not one hair out of place. You paid the dresses no mind, throwing them on the ground. A sigh of relief caught his attention. So he leaned over you trying to see what it was. It was not what he had expected. A book. With a green and golden cover. It was old so much he could tell but well preserved. Only some of the golden ornaments had fallen off.
You sigh out a breath of relief hugging it to you. In your frenzy, you had not realized that the Captain had not left your tent. Composing yourself you turned around. “Was there anything else you needed, Captain?” He looked at you for a moment, then breathed out heavily, shaking his head in annoyance and went to the opening of your tent, before he could leave he informed you: “Food is ready.” You stood there for a second just holding your book when his head appeared again. “And don’t wander off. If you need anything, get me or one of my men.” You nodded, realizing how irrationally you had acted. This was not like you. You called out to him. He slightly opened your tent, signaling that he was listening. “Thank you for-.” You pointed to the trunk he had carried. “And for informing me of dinner.” Your tone took on a slightly gentler edge. “I am starving.” You tried to smile slightly, but found your lips did not agree with you. You guessed it looked more like you had bit into a lemon, so you quickly stopped. He looked at you for a second and then just nodded. “I can get someone to bring you a plate.” “Oh that won’t be necessary I will be right out.”
He nodded once more and went towards the campfire. He could not pinpoint you. A picture of you bent over the trunk flashed through his mind. But you did have a lovely behind. Smirking, he sat down by the fire, yes a very lovely one. You washed your face and stored your book safely underneath your bed covers and went outside. Men were positioned around your camp, some were lying on the grass sleeping as it sounded like from their snoring and some were sitting at the campfire. The Captain and the long-haired man were among them. The chatter got a bit quieter when you arrived. The men sat on wood logs but none was free.
Before the Captain could stand up you shed your cloak laying it on the ground and seated yourself on it. “I am sorry to interrupt, but the smell was very tempting, may I ask for a serving?” Promptly a wide and short man stood up. “Of course my Lady.” You resisted the temptation to glance at Syverson when hearing my Lady. The man handed you a plate with some grilled potatoes and meat on it. “Thank you.'' You picked up your fork. “It truly smells delicious. May I ask your name?” The man nodded eagerly. “Of course, I am Jordan the cook.” You sat up straight, bowing your head slightly. “It is lovely to meet you Jordan.” He fell into an unpracticed bow, before sitting back down. The men looked at you from the corner of their eyes. Waiting for you to complain about the food probably, you thought. They were still in conversation trying not to be too obvious.
Only Jordan openly looked at you. You took a big bite out of the meat and potatoes. “Oh.” You moaned out lightly. Swallowing quickly you made another fork. “I was right, it is delicious.” You smiled at Jordan's beaming face. “You hear that lads, delicious. So stop complaining and eat.” He hit the man next to him, giving him a pointed look. It almost made your lips twitch into a smile. “Yeah, she only thinks so because she has not eaten it for two weeks straight.” You shook your head in amusement, and continued to eat. To be honest you had not had meat like this ever. Usually, you ate seafood, and the potatoes were boiled at your home. However, you found you enjoyed the grilled ones more. The men seemed more relaxed now, one even offering you a glass of mead. Gladly you accepted it.
Taking a careful sip, it was sweet, tasting like honey. You had never had it before. In your home, you mostly drank wine. Taking another sip you feared even the sweetest wine was spoiled by the taste of liquid honey almost as if you were drinking gold. Yet, you paced yourself, there was no way you would lose your senses. So you mostly sat there observing. Answering questions once in a while, as short and politely as you could. You did not want to give too much information away just yet, you needed to find out more about the people first. And you found it was easiest to do so by sitting with them when they drank. It loosened their tongues. You could feel eyes on you once in a while and knew the Captain was watching you. You tried not to let it get to you. Giving all the attention to the person who talked. “Oh please no more.” You winked away the man wanting to fill your plate for the third time. “It was good.” You quickly turned to Jordan. “But I fear if I eat one more plate we will need three horses instead of two to pull my carriage.” You played coye. The men laughed. “My Lady, that is no problem.” A big burly man with long orange hair and curly orange beard stood up. “If needed I will pull it myself.” He pushed out his chest, flexing his arms to show his broad statue. A laugh almost escaped you at his antics. You had never seen men behave so… well so, unlike the people at court. Clearing his throat Syverson stood up. “That’s enough. It is getting late. Don’t some of you have the night shift?” His voice boomed out, interrupting the laughter around you. The men nodded, getting up to leave. Jordan picked up the plates and went to wash them. While only Syverson and the other long-haired man stayed.
You looked up at Syverson, wondering why he had interrupted. He held out his hand for you. Hesitantly you took it, pulling you up far more gently than you thought his rough hands were capable of. He bent down picking up your cloak and shaking it out before handing it to you. “Thank you.” You looked at each other for a couple of seconds waiting for the other to speak. “I will retreat to my tent now.” You turned, taking a few steps. Syverson nodded, following you. “I’ll bring you.” You quirked your eyebrows at his sudden display of manners. “Scared I will wander off again?” You teased him. Halting in yourself, you thought, the mead must have gotten to you. You were not in a habit of teasing men but there was something about the Captain that just made you want to. Most likely because of his rude behavior earlier. He put a hand on the lower of your back guiding you to your tent. Before you could enter he leaned down. “You can try to.” His lip quirked. “Good night Princess.” Leaving you standing there, trying to suppress a smile. Was that a challenge?
The next morning you woke up feeling cold. You only had a light linen blanket and your white nightgown was made of material that was supposed to keep you cold. Normally you would be slightly sweating already. Your room back home was facing the sea and the sun would shine on your face, tickling you awake. You curled into yourself. You could already hear men bustling around, it seemed to be dawn. The tent was still dark but not pitch black like yesterday evening. You groaned sitting up. You felt sore all over, especially your back. The constant bumping of the carriage was exhausting and you hoped that after a couple of days you did not have to see the inside of one for a long time. You looked around your hair tousled and sleep was still in your eyes. Gods, you wished you would have brought your maid with you. She would have brewed you some coffee by now. Yet, you could not do this to her. You heard the women talk amongst themselves when it was announced you would go to the north. They were horrified, hoping they did not have to come. Slowly, you realized you did not want them with you either. Their borderline hysteria thinking about going gave you a headache. So you left without one. At least you had some peace and quiet riding alone in the carriage. You were not particularly a morning person and now that you had nothing to do your body needed a while to get up and running. You wished, not for the first time, that you were back in your bed. Snuggled into your cool linen with a book. You lit the candle next to your bed and walked over to the wash bucket. It was yesterday's water but right now you could not care. You splashed some on your face. Gasping, it felt like it got even colder overnight but at least you were somewhat awake. You put your morning coat on, but your bed was calling to you. So you slipped into it again. Wondering, was it always this cold here? It was autumn, not even winter. You really hoped the tailor had your clothes ready, it seems like you would need them. You picked up your book and began to read.
Not ten minutes after you lit the candle someone clears their throat outside your tent. Sighing you got up. Please, it was not even properly light outside. Tightening your morning coat you walked over to the entrance, pulling the flap an inch aside, so they could only see your face. “Yes?” “Good morning my Lady, I made some coffee and tea for the men. I was wondering if you would like some?” It was Jordan, he had a slight blush on his face and two cups in his hands. You smiled to yourself. How right Maria was, she had advised you from a young age to always be on good terms with the cook. “Oh, that would be wonderful.” You opened the tent granting him entrance. Swiftly you strided over to your bed again, wrapping the blanket around you. He sat down the two cups on your makeshift night table. “I took the liberty of adding a little sweetener into the coffee.” He commented proudly, handing you one of the cups. “Thank you, that is very kind of you.” Your voice was still laced with sleep. Taking your first sip you hummed. “I can never start my day without one.” You added. He stood awkwardly in the tent, looking at you. Apparently waiting for something.
You frowned. OH. You cleared your throat, taking another sip. You watched him in amusement over the rim of your cup. Humming in agreement of the taste. “It is very good, the sweetener adds some nice new flavor to it.” You leaned forward, almost smiling. He beamed at you. “Thank you so much. I will make sure the cook in Warhorse knows this.” He wrung his hands, then added hastily. “Is there anything else you need? The breakfast is not quite ready.” He looked apologetic. You continued to take sips from your coffee, greatly amused at the man in front of you. A sweet man, but far too eager for approval. He glanced over to your wash bucket. “I will refill this for you.” You waved him away. “Thank you but you don’t have to.” “No, no please, it is no problem.” He quickly took the bucket and made his way out of your tent. You smiled to yourself. If every man was so easily led like him you would have no problems in Warhorse. You continued reading for a while, enjoying your coffee. Jordan had brought you fresh water promptly and you had every intention of bathing yourself at least a little. Sighing you made up your mind to get out of bed. You quickly pushed off the morning coat and loosened the strings at the front of your nightgown, ample cleavage was showing. So you could easily reach underneath your nightgown and wash underneath your arms.
You could hear a commotion outside, halting your action, trying to listen. Water droplets slipped under your dress, making you shiver and your nipples hard. Suddenly the flap of your tent was pulled back, you let out a small scream trying to cover yourself a little. Syverson had marched in. He looked at you angry and then stunned. “What in the Gods names is the meaning of this?” Outrage, clear in your voice. You pressed your washcloth close to your chest soaking the white fabric. The material clung to you, outlining your breasts. He shook his head as if he had to remind himself why he was here. Then it came back to him, his expression turned angry.
He walked up to you pushing a plate with food into your hand but you did not take it. “My men are not your servants. You want one? Then you should have brought one with you.” You looked at him shocked. “My apologies Captain Syverson if I have given this impression but I had no idea the food was ready or else I would have gotten a plate myself.” The longer you spoke the more your voice took on an edge. You wanted to scream at him how dare he enter without knocking, and not leave immediately when he saw your state of undress. He snorted. “Yes because you got yourself coffee and tea, or new wash water.” He pointed accusingly at the bucket of water. Your arms fell to your side, chest heaving. Not caring about your state of undress. Taking a step forward you now were directly in front of him. “Unlike you, I am not in the habit of barging in anywhere unwanted and causing unresting to the established practices of people.” He was about to talk over you but this time you were not having it. “May I explain myself to the offenses you so strongly presented?” But you did not wait for an answer. “Cook Jordan came to my tent of his own volition.” Spitting the word volition into his face. “I did not ask him to bring me anything. He simply wanted to know if I wanted some. He saw I had a light on. I told him not to get me new water.” You pointed at the bucket. “And that I would do it later but he insisted. As for the plate I have no idea why you brought it or if anyone else would for that matter, as I did not ask anyone to do so. And now that you have so rudely interrupted my bath, and turned a fellow soldier's action from kindness into entitlement it is time for you to leave.”
His face had changed from anger to shock and then shame throughout your rant. You on the other hand could hardly keep a blank face too angry with the rude man in front of you. Yet, he could clearly see the anger in your eyes. He stepped back breathing out heavily. Instead of your false polite face or the blank one, for that matter, you had a fire in your eyes. Syverson felt like it was the first time he had seen something real from you. Drops of water still clung to your neck and cleavage. Goosbumps lining your skin. Your chest was heaving and your nipples were hard, almost visible underneath your nightgown. Syverson could not help but notice this. As well as your hair. It was not in the net you had worn yesterday but free of any restrictions. Syverson had observed that the women from your country usually kept their hair put up or in a net. It was so different from his own country women who liked to braid their hair, let them loose, and do whatever they wanted with them. Your eyes still had a little sleep in the corner of them, but your lips looked as lush as yesterday. Goosebumps littered your arms. His hand twitched and his body leaned closer to you. Realizing how cold you must be, with the thin linen you wore.
You had been staring at each other for a while. Syverson was in a simple white tunic. Chest Hair was coming out at the top. His sleeves rolled up as if it was not freezing cold. Envy cursing through you, wishing you could be as warm. Making the numbness even more prominent in your hands. He seemed like he had been awake for hours already. The smell of pine trees and fresh air was enticing and you felt almost like you wanted to lean into him. Take the warmth his body was radiating. He suddenly stepped back. “My sincere apologies.” He looked like he wanted to say more but his gaze landed on your almost exposed chest, embarrassment quickly overtaking his body. He swiftly left, with the plate still in his hand. You did not realize you had held your breath until your lungs started to burn. Gasping in the fresh air you missed the smell of pine with it. You quickly washed and put on a gown you could lace up yourself. You did not bring a maid because you knew none wanted to wander in these dangerous times and not into the Woodlands. They were still a dangerous territory to be in. So you had packed accordingly for the trip. Only dresses that you could easily slip into and bind in the front.
Once you thought yourself presentable and shook the eventful morning off you. You went outside in search of food, as the Captain had taken your plate with him. The tents were already taken down and the men were getting ready to leave. The man with the blond long hair came towards you. “Morning my Lady. We would take your tent down now if you wish. We are leaving soon.” He had a thick accent that made it hard to understand. You would have balked at the casualness in which he addressed you but after the morning you had you did not care. “Thank you, my things are packed away. But I fear I have not been informed of your name yet.” He bent down loosening some of the wooden wedges that were pushed into the ground to secure the tent from any storms. “My apologies, I am Ocre. The second in command to Captain Syverson. “ He stood up looking at you and pointing towards the fireplace you had sat at yesterday. “There is some food by the fire. Jordan kept it warm for you.” “Thank you Lieutenant Ocre.” He was walking past you but halted. “We should thank you.” You turned to him in confusion. “What do you mean?” “The breakfast was really good, almost as if it was for a Princess.” He leaned closer, giving you a teasing smirk. You quirked an eyebrow. “A trick someone taught me once.” You leaned closer too as if it was a secret of utmost importance. “Always befriend the cook.” You winked, turned around, and walked towards the fire. You could hear a rough laugh behind you. “I’ll keep that in mind Princess.” 
Syverson’s head snapped up when he heard Ocre’s laugh, calling after you. He watched you walking towards the fire, his eyes wandering over your form. You looked like yesterday put together, clean cut as if you had not been traveling for the better part of a week. He scanned you from your hair neatly tucked in a net to the sway of your hips. You walked with a grace he had not seen before, at least not in his lands. Wondering if this was something you would teach his sister. His horse nudged him waiting for him to finish brushing it. “I can’t figure her out.” He mumbled to the horse. He almost blushed when thinking about this morning. He had not been scolded like that since he was a boy. He did not even dare think about your state of undress. He would not do his friend Imrahil a disservice by looking at his daughter this way. Gods he hoped you would not tell him what had happened or Imrahil would have his head. Imrahil had not shared the exact concerns about why he wanted you desperately to come to Warhorse. But he was concerned about his daughter. He was like an Uncle to Syverson and if he was concerned then so was Syverson. He brushed the horse, coming to the conclusion that it was now Syverson’s task to take care of you. So he needed to start acting properly.
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Everyone was ready to go. You had made your way to your carriage when you were about to enter. Someone had grabbed your hand, softly, helping you into the carriage. You flinched slightly but then looked down at the big, rough but warm hand of the Captain. He had an expression on his face you could not read, it was not anger like this morning. It was soft but you could not pinpoint what it meant. When you were seated and safely inside he let go of your hand. “We will take a rest in a couple of hours. We need to pass some woods before we can do so.” He leaned closer, looking at you intently. “If you need anything, tell the rider to hold your carriage.” You had not said a word, too stunned to speak by his sudden politeness. When you gave him a short nod. He closed the door and left towards his horse. Your hand, still warm.
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holdmytesseract · 1 year
Text
Hot Temper
James Conrad x fem!Reader
Summary: You are expecting Conrad to come to your tent by nightfall. When he does, things escalate pretty quickly.
Based on this lil' drabble (Part Two)!
Warnings: this is kinda steamy, swear words, smuttish, suggestive smut, dom!James Conrad? It's also a biiit dark.
Word Count: 1,2k
a/n: Well... This one is a small birthday present for my wonderful friend @fictive-sl0th ! ☺️ Happy belated Birthday, boo! ❤ I wish you all the best! Never forget how amazing you are, you awesome person, you! I'm so happy I can call you my friend. Love you! ❤
I really hope you like this! ☺️
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Your nerves were on edge after you collided with Captain Conrad in that heated argument a few hours ago; sizzling with anger and frustration - but also desire and lust. It was an ongoing battle within your system. Which side was going to win, you couldn't tell.
Now you sat on the cot inside your tent, literally staring holes into the flap which marked the entrance. The sinking sun bathed everything in an orange, red light; telling you that it was almost time. You've made good work the rest of the day in avoiding the asshole James Conrad was, but now, after returning to your tent for the night and knowing what was most likely going to happen, you wanted nothing more than to feel his lips on your body. It was strange, wasn't it? You never hated a man - a person, as much as you hated Captain Conrad, and yet he was all you ever desired. Either something was wrong with you, or you just liked hot guys with a shitty personality. You believed it was the second option, but who knew?
Narrowing your eyes, you switched on the lamp, standing on the ground beside your cot and took a look on your wrist watch. Time. It was time. Where is this son of a bitch? You thought. I swear, if he doesn't show up, I'll kick him in the- You weren't able to finish your thoughts, as the flap of the tent flew open, revealing the man you had waited for. The light of his lamp illuminated his stupid, handsome face. Cautiously - like a lion observing his prey, he graciously entered the tent, zipping the flap behind him shut. He hadn't been even a minute inside the tight space which was your tent, when you already felt it... The tension. Intense, angry and undeniably sexual. You were sure that it must be cuttable with a knife.
Not averting his eyes for even a second, James squatted down to place his lamp on the ground. The muscles in his thick thighs strained the fabric of his jeans, as he did so, spreading his legs almost sluttishly. Pathetic, you thought. Putting on a show. For what? To impress me? You had to suppress the scoff, which threatened to leave your lips. Instead, you opted for words. "You came. Why?" You asked nonchalantly, without any emotion. Just stating the facts. A grin spread on James's face, as he shook his head and licked his lips. A grin you wished, once again to sweep off his face. "You told me to, didn't you, Y/L/N? Can't you remember? Already suffering from memory loss?" You narrowed your eyes and leaned forwards in an almost threatening manner. "Careful, Conrad. Thin ice. Very thin ice. I would watch my mouth if I were you-" "Or what?" He interrupted you, spitefully. "Are you going to slap me again?" This time, you couldn't suppress the scoff to leave your mouth. Licking your lips, you chuckled. "You really enjoy this, don't you? Being an arrogant, selfish, annoying asshole? Driving people crazy?" Now it was James's turn to laugh you in the face. "I don't. I am not the one to blame, just because you have a short fuse - and that you find me irresistibly. All you want to do is fuck me, isn't it?"
And at those words, you saw red again; losing it. A low growl left your lips, before you lunged out - ready to slap him again. Your palm was mere inches away from hitting the skin of his cheek, when he caught your hand mid-air. His big hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, keeping you from hitting him. It caught you off guard. You didn't see that coming. "Nuh.Uh. Not this time, Y/L/N." The way he rolled your last name off his tongue - so deep, so dark, so sexy, caused your knees to almost buckle and you felt arousal flooding your veins. James used your moment of shock, of course, reached quickly for your other wrist and before you could even react, had he pinned you down on the cot with his strong, muscular body hovering above yours. Once your brain had caught up with what was going on, you started to squirm, trying to get free. A part of your brain screamed at you why the hell you were fighting back, because James was right. You wanted this. "Not so snappy anymore, are we?" Another growl left your lips, before your angry eyes locked with his goddamn beautiful baby blues. "Fuck you, Conrad!" You spat into his face; voice laced with venom. The man chuckled dangerously; licking his lips. "Don't worry, darling... You get what you want."
Demandingly, Conrad nudged your legs with his knees, commanding you to open them. You wanted to. Oh, of course you wanted to. So, you let your legs fall open for him to kneel in between them - what James immediately did. A breathless laugh escaped his mouth. "I knew it. This was all you wanted from the very beginning, isn't it? Me between your legs?" A strangled moan slipped past your lips at those words; unable to suppress it. "You are so needy for me, aren't you? Desperate for me to fucking ruin you." You couldn't even put in words how much this turned you on. It was pathetic. "Must be really exhausting to hate me, but at the same time wanting to fuck me. How I get you all hot and bothered just with one snap of my finger…" You weren't able to answer something. He had you. You were literal putty in his hands. "Am I right?" He asked, but you didn't answer, just averted your eyes. You hated the effect he had on you. Bu the Captain didn't like it, when somebody wasn't answering, when he had asked a question, so he gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger and made you look at him. "Am. I. Right?" He asked again, pointing out every word. As if to underline his words even more, he bucked his hips against yours, causing you to gasp. "Answer me." "Yes," you said between gritted teeth. "Good girl." As a reward, he leaned down, letting his lips hover above yours for a second - So close, so close. - before he connected them in a hot, open-mouthed kiss. After that kiss, you were gone. Lost in the man you actually despised so much. Or... Wanted to despise so much?
Teeth clashed together, tongues were intertwined, as you both tore at each other clothes, desperately trying to get them off. It wasn't about love or feelings, no. This sexual encounter was primal, needy and rough. Your hands raked all over James's bare, strong back; fingernails leaving red marks and scratches on their way, when he finally gifted you the pleasure you desired so much. The sound of skin colliding with skin was the only sound which filled the deadly silence of the night, accompanied with yours and James's whiny breathes and moans. You had awoken the animal within Captain Conrad - and you didn't regret it for even a second, when he ruined you for every man to follow.
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