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queenshelby · 2 days

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The Price for Fame (Part One)

Pairing: Dark!Cillian Murphy x Innocent!Reader

Warning: Manipulation, Infidelity, Smut, Dub-Con, Age-Gap, Cillian is being a bully in this one. It's pure filth.

Just last month, you turned eighteen and moved to Los Angeles to pursue your acting career.

With the help of your friend, Florence Pugh, you scored a role in a new movie which was produced by several big names in the industry, including 48-year-old Oscar winner Cillian Murphy.

Bold enough to believe that life as an acclaimed actress could be yours, you traded the innocence of a rural and religious upbringing for this glitzy haven where fame and glamour wove a pernicious network but it did not take long for things to fall out of place when you screwed up big time on set.

The embarrassment settled in like a slow, tormenting burn as you messed up your lines during a critical emotional scene as much as ten times, causing the shoot to be cut off momentarily. The director, Damien Chazelle, tried to hold his composure but the frustration simmered below the surface. You knew already that he had it out for you, wanting another actress to take your space, and your failure to perform this scene was simply the last straw for him and possibly the end of your career.

Thus, a quick huddle of the film's top players led to Cillian pulling you aside.

"Let's have a chat," he said coolly, those famous blue eyes impaling you with a steely glare. It was more of a command than an invitation.

"Sure, Cillian. I am so sorry about what happened on set," you stammered, knowing what this was going to be about.

He was one of the producers of the movie and it was his investment at stake, so you cut right to the chase, "I know you're disappointed but I swear it won't happen again. Anything you want me to do, I just want another chance."

Cillian studied your face for a beat, his blue eyes so piercing you thought he could see right down into the depths of your very soul.

"Let's talk in my trailer, Y/N," he finally said, and began striding off and you followed close behind, unsure of what to expect once you entered his inner sanctum.

"Listen, I'm getting some heat thanks to you," he began as he sat down and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his bent knees. "Damien wants you out and I'm getting slammed on all sides for not firing you."

Your heart dropped into your stomach, the implications clear as day. You had to somehow atone for the massive screw-up on set and convince Cillian that you were still a valuable part of this project.

"Please, just tell me what to do and I'll do it," you said, looking him straight in the eye. "I can't afford to lose this opportunity. I'll do whatever it takes."

The words hung heavy in the air and Cillian seemed to consider them before finally responding.

"Whatever it takes, huh?" Cillian repeated, as if mulling over your words. His gaze never left yours, and the intensity of it made you squirm in your seat. "Well, you are a young and attractive woman, Y/N and we could, potentially, come to some kind of arrangement that would keep you employed on this film."

The implications of his words sent a shock through your system. Was he suggesting what you thought he was suggesting?

"What... what kind of arrangement?" you stammered, hating how weak you sounded but unable to control it.

Cillian leaned back in his seat now, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Oh, I think you know."

You shook your head in confusion. You didn't though, not really.

But the way Cillian was looking at you, like you were some sort of puzzle to be figured out, made you feel exposed and vulnerable.

"You need to be more specific," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Cillian leaned forward again; his gaze unwavering. "Alright then. Let me be clear. I want to have you in my bed, every night, sometimes even during the day, until we are done filming," Cillian said, his gaze intense.

"What?" you exclaimed, your voice barely above a whisper. "You want me to, uhm, like have sex with you?" you asked and Cillian nodded almost bluntly.

Your mind raced as you tried to process his words. Was this some kind of joke? It had to be, right? Except Cillian's expression was completely serious.

"I don't understand," you said finally, your voice shaking. "Why would you want that? You are married and I am much younger than you," you protested, still reeling from his outlandish request.

Cillian sighed and rubbed his temples before looking back at you. "I am married but my wife is not here, and I do have needs, so this seems like an easy solution for me. Plus, I won't deny that I find you attractive," he told you and you swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. This was not what you had expected when you agreed to come to his trailer. Your mind raced as you tried to come up with a response that wouldn't ruin your career completely.

"I am flattered but I have a boyfriend and we were waiting until marriage, so I have never been intimate with anyone," you told Cillian, hoping that would put an end to this conversation. But instead of appearing taken aback, Cillian seemed almost pleased by this revelation.

"Really?" he said, with a cunning smile before carrying on. "Well, I can be gentle and, as I see it, no one needs to know about this arrangement. Not your boyfriend, not my wife, and especially not anyone on set," Cillian leaned in, whispering conspiratorially. His piercing blue eyes bore into you, softening just slightly.

"I don't know. I don't think I can do this," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. Your heart was still racing, and your mind was swirling with indecision. On one hand, you couldn't afford to lose this opportunity, and on the other, you couldn't imagine betraying your boyfriend like this.

Cillian leaned back in his seat, studying you for a moment before speaking. "Look, Y/N, I understand your hesitation, but this is purely a business arrangement," Cillian said, his voice low and soothing as he tried to persuade you.

A silence fell between the two of you as you contemplated his words. The dilemma wrestling within you was palpable, the weight of the decision threatening to crush you.

His voice broke through the silence once more, "Think about it, Y/N. You need this role, and I need... well, I need something else."

Cillian's words lingered in the air, making you uncomfortable, and the thought of betraying your boyfriend's trust made your stomach churn.

"Okay, but you have to wear a condom and no kissing," you finally agreed, trying to put in some boundaries.

Cillian's face lit up with excitement as if he had just won a jackpot, but he quickly hid it with a mask of composure. "Of course, Y/N. Whatever makes you comfortable."

You felt violated by the sudden power shift, but you couldn't deny that Cillian was offering you a lifeline, an opportunity to save yourself from drowning in the cutthroat industry of Hollywood. You had come too far to throw it all away for principles that seemed so trivial now.

"Tonight, 8 o'clock at my house, wear something nice," Cillian instructed, before dismissing you with a wave.

The audacity of it all left you breathless. In no universe did you imagine that your innocence would be the currency for maintaining employment in this industry. Yet, here you were, walking away from his trailer, carrying the burden of a secret agreement that clashed heavily with your very soul.

***

Eight o'clock came around soon enough, and after hours of overthinking, you stood by Cillian's front door, wearing an elegant red dress and high heels. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you hesitated for a moment, hesitant to knock.

Cillian answered the door with a seductive smirk on his face. "Right on time," he drawled. His gaze raked over you, leaving a trail of discomfort in its wake. You murmured a soft greeting and stepped inside.

The terrace he was staying it for the duration of filming was nice, tastefully decorated and obviously very expensive.

Cillian led you to the living room where he handed you a glass of wine and whilst you did not usually drink alcohol, you decided tonight was different. You needed to calm your nerves and calm down your inhibitions.

As you sipped on the red liquid, he gave you a tour of his house and, without losing too much time, he led you to his bedroom.

"Let's get this over with," you gasped quietly, trying to sound confident but your trembling voice betrayed your true emotions.

"Eager are we?" Cillian chuckled as you put down your half-finished wine and sat down on the edge of the mattress, noticing a packet of condoms and a bottle of lubricant on the nightstand.

"No, like I said, I just want to get this over with," you reiterated, biting your lower lip nervously. "I don't want this, but you do, and I want to keep my job, so let's just make this quick," you added, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Alright then," Cillian chuckled, that smug grin still on his face as he moved closer to you. Without losing any time, he pulled his t-shirt over his head before slowly undoing his belt.

"Why don't you get down on to your knees and get me hard , hmm?" Cillian suggested, the lascivious look in his eyes causing you to shudder.

You hesitated for a moment, feeling repulsed at the idea of going down on him but before you could protest, he grabbed your chin and forced you to look up at him. "Don't pretend you don't want this," he growled, his hot breath on your face making you cringe.

"Okay," you nodded reluctantly, your voice barely above a whisper.

You sunk down to your knees on the plush carpet, feeling completely degraded and humiliated. You could feel the bile rising in your throat as you looked up at him, his crotch directly in front of your face.

Cillian's face was smug as he unzipped his jeans, tugging them down along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, already semi-hard and pointing directly at your face.

"Go on then," he commanded gruffly, unaware that you had never done this before either.

But you knew you couldn't refuse him. Not if you wanted to keep your job and avoid any negative consequences.

So with shaking hands, you reached up and wrapped your fingers around his thick shaft.

Cillian let out a low moan as you began to stroke him, your grip tight as you moved your hand up and down his length. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and every movement made your stomach churn.

But you knew this was the price of maintaining your career, so you forced yourself to continue.

Pre-cum glistened on the tip of his cock, an indication of his growing arousal and, even though you did not know what it was, you pulled away slightly.

"Now be a good girl for me and open your mouth ," Cillian demanded.

You hesitated again, feeling even more repulsed by the request. But you knew there was no room for hesitation or resistance, not if you wanted to keep your job and avoid any negative consequences. So, with trembling lips, you parted your mouth as wide as you could, trying to suppress the sick feeling rising up in your stomach.

"Now stick out your tongue," he ordered.

You did as you were told, sticking out your tongue and closing your eyes which is when Cillian collected some of his pre-cum with his index finger and smeared it on to your tongue.

You opened your eyes , still trembling as you stared up at him, hating every moment of this degradation. Cillian just smiled down at you before nodding for you to continue.

You reluctantly wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock, wincing as the taste of salt and bitter muskiness filled your mouth.

Cillian then grabbed a fistful of your hair, using it to guide his cock deep into your mouth. He pushed it in farther than you expected, causing you to gag.

"You're going to have to relax and take it all in," he said, his tone cruel and condescending. "Otherwise we're never going to get anywhere."

You swallowed hard, fighting the urge to vomit as you felt his cock hit the back of your throat.

"Sshh , deep breaths," Cillian cooed softly, tugging on your hair as he pulled his hips back and thrust forward again.

You kept your breathing steady and shallow, trying to prevent yourself from gagging on his length. Tears streamed down your cheeks as Cillian's rhythm grew quicker. He groaned with pleasure, his grip on your hair tightening.

Suddenly he pulled out of you, and the sudden emptiness caused relief to flood through you.

"I want you on all fours now, baby," Cillian growled, his voice husky with lust. "That way, I can see how your virgin hole stretches around my cock when I stick it in there."

You swallowed hard, feeling scared but still you complied. You reluctantly positioned yourself on all fours, your heart pounding in your chest as Cillian reached for the condom packet and lubrication.

Cillian tore open the condom packet with his teeth, rolling it down his hard shaft before squeezing out a generous amount of lubrication onto his fingers. He traced them teasingly over your dry folds, causing you to flinch at the unfamiliar touch.

"Please, just get it over with," you whimpered, your voice trembling as you braced yourself for the excruciating pain of losing your virginity.

Cillian chuckled at your eagerness, but you could hear the sarcasm behind it. "So eager to give up that sweet little cherry of yours, huh?" he asked as he positioned himself behind you, the head of his cock brushed up against your entrance.

"This might hurt a little, but I want you to relax and let me in," he said as he began to push himself inside of you.

You couldn't help but let out a loud gasp as the burning sensation of pain spread throughout your entire body. You couldn't believe that you were actually doing this, allowing yourself to be used like this, for nothing but your career.

"Just breathe," Cillian whispered in your ear as he continued to push deeper inside of you.

You felt him bottom out inside of you, and the feeling of fullness was almost too much to bear.

But before you could say anything, he began to thrust in and out of your tight hole, the friction causing a burning sensation to radiate throughout your body.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Cillian groaned, his hips snapping against your ass with each powerful thrust. You couldn't help but let out a loud gasp every time he entered you, feeling every inch of him as he stretched you open.

Sweat dripped down Cillian's forehead, his breath coming out in harsh pants as he continued to pound into you.

"And you are going to have that cock of mine inside you every day now," Cillian grunted, his voice hoarse as he continued to pump in and out of you. His words made you feel dirty and cheap, but there was nothing you could do to stop him. You were trapped in this situation, trapped in this twisted arrangement between a successful actor and a desperate young actress trying to make it in Hollywood.

Cillian reached between your legs, his fingers finding your clit as he began to circle and rub, causing you to moan involuntarily. The mix of pain and pleasure was overwhelming, making it hard for you to catch your breath.

You came, fast, and then you were in a state of shock, unable to fully comprehend what was happening to you. The man behind you, Cillian, continued to thrust into you with no mercy, his balls slapping against your clit with each pump. His fingers were still manipulating your delicate button, and the combined sensations were building up deep within your core.

Cillian grunted, his pace increasing. You could feel his cock swell inside of you as he approached his own climax.

He then groaned loudly, his fingers digging into your hips as he slammed into you with a final thrust. You could feel him pulsating inside of you, the condom filling with his hot seed.

Soon after that, Cillian withdrew from you, and your body ached with the emptiness. He tossed the used condom to the side before collapsing onto the bed next to you.

"You impressed me tonight," Cillian said breathlessly as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

His body was slick with sweat, and his cock was still semi-hard against your thigh.

"I had to," you muttered, pulling away from his embrace. You couldn't bear the thought of being close to him after what just transpired between you.

Cillian chuckled softly, his breath hot against your neck. "I know, and I'm grateful," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss on the curve of your shoulder.

"I want you to go on the pill," he said, his voice firm. "I can't be bothered with condoms all the time, and I want to feel you bare. Can you do that for me?"

His request caught you off guard, but you didn't protest. You were already in too deep, and a part of you wanted to give him what he wanted.

"Okay," you murmured softly.

Cillian smiled at your response, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your bare thigh.

"Good girl," he whispered approvingly, before pulling you close for another bruising kiss before leaving you to clean yourself up and head back home.

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jimblejamblewritings · 1 day

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love letters and second sons | part 3.

Summary: The princess is finally ready to debut in society. But before she does, she decides to disguise herself and see the true faces of the ton.

Warnings for the Series: light sexism in line with the times, light classism in line with the times, mental health stigma, shitty doctor care, smut, suicide attempt (will get it's own warning when the time comes),

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x princess!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Previous Part | Series Masterlist

A/N: Sorry this part is so short

You stood in the drawing room of Kew, waiting for your mother and father to arrive in just a few minutes. Instead of a huge breakfast in the dining room, you opted for a light tea in a more casual setting. Honestly, you were mildly annoyed. The only thing you wanted to do after people returned from their church services, that they never attended weekly because no one cared about the priest admonishing them, was go to the Featherington house. You were shocked that Colin was calling Marina. But friends didn’t always fall in love.

It wasn’t like Penelope was upset about it. She didn’t even like Colin. But like your mother you wanted to matchmake someone and figured they would have been the easiest couple to form. But you wanted to spy on Colin and Marina under the guise of aiding in chaperoning with Penelope since Lady Featherington was running around between girls and their callers.

Your thoughts about who to matchmake were interrupted by your parents arriving. You poured tea for them. Breakfast was a bit awkward in a way it had never been before. George and Charlotte were assessing you intently. You got in two bites of bread when the physician entered. Your parents continued their conversation while you were being checked over. The physician made little comments for the nurse to jot down. Overall, you were fine. That seemed to satisfy your mother and father. There was a glint in Charlotte’s eye.

“The King an— Everyone, out.”

The room, aside from Brimsley and Reynolds, cleared out.

“George and I have decided that we’d like to give you an opportunity. There is an opera coming up. Agatha and her friend Violet will be attending. You may come with. You will meet them before the show starts and then we will stay to watch the entire performance. Afterwards, you must go home. No exceptions.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much! I wo—”

“Calm yourself. You know getting excited makes your condition worse.”

You sat back down, trying not to bounce up and down. She was right after all. Being overly excited made you sweaty or a little hot for some reason and being too warm made you start to see things or think strange things. When your parents left, you ran to your wardrobe.

The dresses needed to be fancy but not too fancy since it was a sit-down event. You picked a yellow dress with short puff sleeves. It ended just above the bottom of your ankle — very stylish for the times. Pairing it with light blue gloves that went past your elbows, you added a light blue skirt piece that made a small train.

“You look beautiful, Your Highness,” Brimsley said.

“I have to agree.” Both Pandora and Reynolds looked at each other, shocked they said the same thing at the same time.

“Thank you. Shall we go? Reynolds, would you like to be dropped at home to see Father?”

“That would be nice, Your Highness, thank you.”

“Then let us leave now.”

You rolled your eyes in the carriage, setting down your copy of Lady Whistledown’s society papers.

“It is utterly ridiculous. She is a disgraceful woman. I tolerated the gossip but speculating death, wishing death on my father is something I cannot accept nor tolerate. How dare she?”

Your confidantes agreed with you and shared their own opinions on society and gossip.

Whispers started to spread throughout the opera house while people still rolled in and music still played. How could it not? The youngest royal child was actually outside. There was no opening for the mouth on this particular mask which meant this was not your introduction. You might speak to a lucky few but there would be no speeches or announcements tonight. People couldn’t hear you from far away with ceramic blocking your mouth. You stuck close to your mother while everyone tried to look at you or talk to you.

“Lady Bridgerton!” Lady Danbury yelled from across the room. “Do join us.”

Violet tried to conceal her wide eyes and smile as she grabbed Daphne’s arm before her daughter could walk away from whoever she was trying to avoid. She made eye contact with you. You watched as she rather frantically waved over someone else.

Anthony — or should you call him the viscount for the evening — began walking towards you, bowing to the Queen before turning his full attention to you. You let him take your hand and give it a kiss. A kiss that you noted was considerably longer by a minimum of five seconds than when he kissed you as Miss Keaton. So it was definitely Violet trying to set up the princess with her son and not the valet with Colin.

You let Anthony talk your ear off about his responsibilities as the eldest and his horseback riding hobby, notably leaving out the details of riding through the mud and staying out there for hours. He was considerably more boring when trying to impress a woman. Ignoring the whispers that permeated through the room, you tried to focus on your friend.

You motioned for him to lean in so you could speak into his ear and actually let him hear you rather than sounding, practically silencing the hall. Anthony laughed at the joke you told which caused both of your mothers to turn around. This was the Anthony you liked better. Violet gasped when you placed a hand on her son’s arm — your mother raised her eyebrows as she and Lady Danbury gave you a slight nod of approval.

“Will you escort me to our box, Viscount Bridgerton?”

“Please, call me Anthony.”

“Lord Bridgerton, that is most forward when we don’t know each other.”

“I was told royals didn’t obey our rules of upper society.”

The two of you started up the stairs, away from prying eyes, that led up to the Queen’s box.

“Anthony?”

“Now we speak of first names.”

You rolled your eyes. “I will allow you to call me by mine, just this single occasion. Anthony, where are the other Bridgerton siblings? If I remember correctly, you have seven of them? Miss Bridgerton is here but I do not see the others.”

“Truthfully, they were very bored by the show being put on tonight. We’ve seen it before. I’m merely here to aid my mother and chaperone my sister. Have you seen this show before?”

“If I have then it was when I was very little.”

“Well, then please do not let my words discourage your enjoyment of the performance. Here is your stop.” He extended a hand to help you up the short steps into the box. “Y/N, thank you for the flowers from the other day. Truly, they are appreciated.”

You studied his face for a moment. He really was handsome. His hair didn’t cover as much of his face this evening as it usually did whenever you visited. The stark colors of his black and white attire made his features stand out.

“I am glad you liked them. Now is where I leave you for the evening, Lord Bridgerton. I shall hope to see you some more once I formally introduce myself to society.”

“I will look forward to that day. Goodbye… Y/N.”

“Goodbye, Anthony.”

Taking your seat, you waited for your mother and her friends to come to the box. The smile on Charlotte’s face grew wider the closer she got to the box. She was going on about Anthony. Obviously, you were going to have many suitors to entertain but a viscount was certainly a very important suitor and only made your prospects have to be better in their courting.

“Excuse me, I’m going to the privy,” you told your mother when you felt your throat start to tighten up.

She just gave you a nod. The shadows of the opera house were closing in on you and you couldn’t calm your mind down. You needed to be in a place with more candlelight. You jumped at the sound of several dogs barking from the shadows. There were big creatures. You had never seen them but you could tell from their bark and — when you got too close — how their breath fanned across the top of your head. Hastening your steps to get away, you ran straight into Violet.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. “I decided to take a walk after going to the privy and wasn’t watching where I was going.”

The woman in front of you smiled. “Your Highness, if I may be so bold to ask? Would you like to attend a dinner we are hosting? The Duke of Hastings will be there. I understand that you aren’t yet introduced but it woul—”

“I shall love to come. Just tell me when.”

“Saturday evening.”

“Perfect.”

Saturday evening couldn’t have come any sooner. You were tired of counting the floor titles in the bathroom and needed to leave. For the sake of your valets, you hadn’t snuck out at all that weel.

You turned to your valets. “I will be back in a few hours.”

“Please be careful,” Pandora said.

“I always am.”

“Not really.” You heard someone mutter inside the carriage.

Marshall escorted you in. You had to stop yourself from smiling, remembering that he had no clue who you were. It was almost alarming when everyone — including the Duke of Hastings — stood when you entered the dining room. You weren’t sure why you didn't expect it. Perhaps you were already too used to your disguise as Miss Keaton. You gave a slight curtsey.

“I apologize for being late.”

“No. You aren’t late at all,” Anthony said as he started to gather his plate.

You shook your head. “Oh, stay where you are.”

“But, Your Highness.”

“I can afford to not be the head of a table for a single night.” You looked around. “I shall sit across from Miss Daphne Bridgerton.”

“She knows your name!” Hyacinth’s voice rose three octaves. You figured you could make her night by having the princess knowledgeable about the Bridgertons.

Colin and Benedict scrambled to pull their chairs apart so you could sit in between them. You waved Marshall away, plating your own food. You could feel the silence of the dinner table as you did things the normal way you would at Kew or Buckingham House. You looked up after cutting your chicken.

“What were you all talking about before I arrived?”

“Lady Whistledown,” Eloise cut in before anyone could stop her.

“Really? Tell me more.”

“You want to know?”

“Of course I do. I must know her identity. However I must say I will be having a private word with her about not publishing speculation of my father’s death.”

“How is he?”

“Oh, he’s perfectly fine. No matter, though, I need to know every thought you have on our mysterious Lady Whistledown?”

You enjoyed the bickering between everyone. There wasn’t even a firm thought on what class Whistledown belonged to. In your opinion it had to have been an upper class woman. Only someone like that could have enough time on their hands and still survive day to day needs. You dipped your fork into the potatoes.

“Viscount Bridgerton, I must say that any correspondence between the royals and the Bridgerton House should be sent to Kew. I stay there now.”

“Correspondence?” Violet asked, trying to suppress the excitement in her voice.

“Yes. I shall need to understand the ton more than what I have studied. Don’t bother putting them together. I much prefer to read individual letters. Now, I have engagements already arranged for tomorrow so I must be on my way. However, I would love to attend dinner again. Goodnight, Lady Bridgerton, Viscount, Bridgertons, Your Grace.”

Anthony stood up from the table. “Let me escort you to your carriage.”

“That would be much appreciated, Lord Bridgerton.”

My Dearest Ton and Wonderful United Kingdom,

I implore you all to remember that gossip, particularly baseless gossip, can be a dangerous thing. While we all are very entertained by Lady Whistledown, remember that you must discover the truth for yourself. I would hate to see lives ruined over entertainment.

Yours Truly,

Princess Y/N Hanover

Dear Viscount Bridgerton,

The dinner at your house was very lovely. Your family seems to be a wonderful group of people. I am sorry for keeping my lady’s maid away for so long. She has been in Ireland, procuring plant seeds and fabrics for me. Please fret no more for she will be back soon. But I do have to say our correspondence might be limited to letters for a majority of our current time. Until I am introduced to society, it is not wise for me to constantly be out. I shall look forward to more times spent with the Bridgertons at a later date.

Yours Truly,

Princess Y/N Hanover

You finished signing the letter, handing it to Pandora to take to the press for copies to be made. Moving an entire printing house from Buckingham to Kew wasn’t exactly quick and easy but your staff had managed to do it in no time at all. For the time being, Kew was entirely self-sufficient.

“Please take the letters for the Bridgertons to their house after you have visited the press.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” “Brimsley, what is on the schedule after the physician leaves?”

“You wanted to ride horses and then prepare a bouquet for the ball tomorrow night to be delivered by one of us.”

“Yes, thank you. And after that?”

Reynolds looked at you and then his partner. You had just made the schedule no less than an hour ago. It didn’t seem normal for you to not know. Their eye contact didn’t waiver as they silently communicated to not say a word but just answer all your questions. You got up, moving to your wardrobe to get a petticoat for outside.

“Ah, yes, Brimsley. Are we preparing the bouquet tonight before or after the physici…an…”

Tears started to well up in your eyes as you realized you had asked the question already. Brimsley and Reynolds were a tad too slow. You were already in the wardrobe, trying to calm yourself down. Every time a sob left your mouth or you begged them not to tell your parents caused some pain in their hearts. Reynolds stopped Pandora from leaving, handing the letters to a different lady-in-waiting.

You looked up in the dark space when you heard the knocking. It was hard to ignore the dogs in the shadows just waiting to snap at you. But the dark stopped the heavens from coming in. It was always a compromise. And since the heavens confused your mind and blocked your memory, the dogs would have to wait.

“You can open it.”

Pandora stuck her head in, trying to prevent too much light from coming in. “You’re stronger than whatever you have, you know? It doesn’t matter. None of it does… Maybe you should show the planets and shadow dogs and other shadow creatures that they cannot control a princess. They do not control you.”

Reynolds sighed as he said a quick prayer to not be fired. “Maybe going to the ball would show the shadows that they cannot control you.”

You didn’t really have a choice. Pandora practically pulled you out of the closet and started making plans for tomorrow’s ball, including how to enjoy yourself but stay hidden.

(part 4)...

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@fredsbetch @cherrylovers-world @chrystinaamanda @grassclippers @flyestvenustrap @spookystitchery @lovelyygirl8 @ben-has-arrived @tragically-hipp

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@venomsvl @peaches-n-sunscreen @summerellaz @supernaturallover2002 @sambucky8 @9daykrisr @thebitchinleo @23victoria @scarlets-widow @pagetpagetpagetpaget @lovexnatasha @awesomebooklover17 @1234-angelika @imatrisk @blackreaderatrisk @princess-jules47 @alexloveskili @a-marie-a @siriuslysirius1107 @i-have-no-life-charlie

#bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict fluff #benedict x reader

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theresthesnitch · 3 days

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@wolfstarmicrofic prompt: first kiss. 1084 words

The heavy metal door nearly closes before Remus catches it with his toe. He nudges the broken two-by-four from its place against the wall to hold the door open. It catches, and Remus walks a bit away to lean against the brick wall.

It has been a grueling shift. Understaffed on a night that the local university was unknowingly hosting some event that left everyone and their dogs coming to the Three Broomsticks for dinner. His legs burn and his feet ache. He’s already dreading how he’ll feel when he finally gets a chance to sit, not to mention the fifteen minute walk home after his thirty minute bus ride.

Remus slips a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of the tight front pocket of his black pants. He was supposed to quit–he did quit, really–but sometimes, coming out the back door for a smoke break is the only chance he gets to stop moving on a shift like this, even if he has to do it next to the garbage cans.

He’s just about to light it, flame poised a breath away from the cut end of the cigarette, when there’s a shout down the alleyway that makes him stop and look up.

A boy runs down the alley–no, not a boy. He’s got to be at least Remus’s age. His long dark hair is swept up into a bun on the back of his head, and the strands that have fallen out of the bun curl around his collar. Jeans and a band tshirt from some band Remus has never heard of cut in a crop that just shows a hit of skin above his belt. He runs toward Remus, glancing back over his shoulder. When he’s only a few feet away, he turns back to Remus with a smile, and all the breath in Remus’s lungs evacuates immediately.

This is the most beautiful person that Remus has ever seen. Silver eyes that pierce Remus to his very soul, and plump pink lips slightly parted. He is flawless, ethereal. Some marble carving of a god that has come to life and now running toward Remus. Adonis

“Can you help me?” he says, stepping up to Remus and glancing over his shoulder again. Remus doesn’t have the ability to make words now and just nods in response. His smile grows. “Great. Follow my lead.”

The man grabs Remus by the shoulders and turns them around until his back is to the wall and Remus stands in front of him. He pulls Remus against him with a hand on his waist and the other coming up around Remus’s neck to thread into his hair. He pulls Remus–who is so shocked that he offers no resistance at all–into a heated kiss.

Remus is kissing a god.

Or, well, more aptly being kissed by him. He’s standing there limply as this man kisses the fuck out of him. The man moves his hand from Remus’s waist around to the small of his back, pulling Remus tightly against him

Remus jolts into action, bringing his hands up to the man’s waist. His fingers meet skin under the rough hem of his shirt. Remus opens his mouth, eagerly joining the kiss. The man hums as Remus licks into his mouth, a pleased noise that spurs Remus on. He pushes the man against the wall, slipping one thigh between his legs.

Behind him, from the entrance of the alley, Remus hears someone running, and some shouts. “Sirius! I know you went this way! Where are you?”

The man under Remus–Sirius, he realizes, if those people were looking for him–grinds down against Remus’s leg and threads both arms around Remus’s neck. He pulls Remus tighter against him, as though he’s hiding behind Remus… because he’s hiding behind Remus!

Which should bother Remus more than it does, honestly. Like why is he hiding? Why was he running? Is he in danger, or is he a criminal? Remus should ask, probably. Only, he slips his hands up Sirius’s sides, hot skin under his hands until one hand connects with a nipple ring, and Sirius moans against his lips. Remus honestly couldn’t give a damn why he’s here.

Sirius breaks the kiss, and if Remus thought he was beautiful before, that’s nothing on the flushed, kiss-swollen version of Sirius standing in front of him now. Sirius glances over Remus’s shoulder, and finding nothing looks back up at Remus. “Thanks, I think they’re gone.”

Remus takes a half step back, suddenly ripped back to the reality of the fact that this is a stranger he has pressed into the wall. “Right. Friends of yours?”

“Not exactly. My cousins.” Sirius grabs the cigarette that Remus still has in his hand and places it between his lips. “Got a light?”

Remus flicks on the lighter in his hand, holding it up behind a cupped hand to light the cigarette. “You were running from your cousins?”

Sirius inhales, lips pursed delicately around the filter. He exhales slowly, a stream of smoke rising between them. “If you knew my cousins, you’d get it.” The last of the smoke seeps out of his mouth with the words.

“I guess I’ll take your word for it.” Remus honestly doesn’t care, really. He’s too busy trying to decide if he can kiss Sirius again, or if they’re past that particular activity.

Sirius takes another drag. He drops his hand to the side, wearing a crooked smile. He closes the distance between them, cups the back of Remus’s head, and pulls him into another kiss. Sirius exhales smoke into the kiss.

It’s short this time, a brief meeting of their lips, and when they pull apart, the smoke seeps around them. “I have to go,” Sirius says, though he doesn’t move away.

“Alright,” Remus says. He doesn’t move either.

Sirius lifts his hand, cigarette held between his fingers, and presses it to Remus’s lips. Remus takes it, and Sirius cups his face in his palm as he pulls away. “I really do have to go.”

“Alright,” Remus says. He takes a drag, which is somehow disappointing on its own, and holds the cigarette between pinched fingers.

“See you later, lover boy.” Sirius brushes his lips against Remus’s once more and takes off down the alley again.

Remus watches Sirius until he reaches the corner, glancing back once more with a wink before disappearing. He brings the cigarette back to his lips and inhales deeply. Maybe he should take up smoking again.

#wolfstar #wolfstar microfics #remus lupin #sirius black #twist of a first kiss #snitchwrites

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syndullqs · 2 days

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𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 — 𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒉

summary — a mission unlocks memories in your brain you’d rather forget. tech helps, in his own way.

warnings — gn!reader, angst, fluff, mentions of childhood trauma, hunter’s a prick

note — i heard this sound on tiktok and it unlocked a memory i did NOT want unlocked lol so enjoy this self indulgent piece

𝐈𝐓’𝐒 𝐅𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐀 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐘. it’s funny how something as small as a child crying causes someone to fold in on themselves. you almost were shot because of it, and you definitely got an earful back on the marauder.

“what were you thinking? just standing there? you could’ve been killed!” hunter’s voice penetrated your clouded thoughts, scolding you for a poor job. he had a point; you were almost killed.

“but i wasn’t, hunter, so what’s the big deal?” you challenge, crossing your arms over your chest. what was next, was he going to question how you worked with the team? was he going to exclude you from future missions? you almost dared him.

“the big deal? y/n you nearly cost us the mission and you could have been killed,” he paused, taking a minute to think. though, given his next words, he should have taken more time to think, “i think you should sit out on the next mission,” his voice was still raised, breaths spilling from his mouth like he ran a marathon.

yet there it was.

exclusion.

“fine, it’s your call, you’re the sergeant,” your words were not short of being venomous, making hunter realize instantly what he just told you. you were a valuable asset to the batch, a sounding board, and he just told you to sit out.

there wasn’t a lot of places for you to go, so you sat in the co-pilot’s chair. you brought a knee up to your chest, resting your chin on it. the silence was comforting, but your mind still swam. hunter’s words, their words, the child crying…

“for the record, i don’t think you should sit out next mission,” tech was the first to speak, the softness and quietness of his voice illustrating just how unused to that he was. his words only earned a scoff from you.

“it was the child crying, no?” he guessed. tech noticed the shift in your demeanor when the child started crying to her mother, wondering why everyone left. you grew stiff, your eyes unfocused, and of course, you were nearly shot.

“what gave me away?” you asked him, still refusing to meet eyes with him. despite tech not being well-versed in comfort, he still knew how to read people. he could read them very well. interpreting those emotions was a different skill.

“the fact you were nearly shot, mainly,” he stated as-a-matter-of-factly, “but also the way your demeanor changed. your shoulders tightened, your eyes widened. not to mention your voice changed,” he went on to describe just how much your body changed. you didn’t think he paid that much attention to you.

“i didn’t think it was that obvious,” you shrugged, taking your chin off of your knee. you slid your eyes over to meet his, the softness of them underneath his goggles provided an odd place of comfort for you. he didn’t judge you, he was merely stating facts.

“it was,” he felt heat rise to his cheeks, a feeling he logically knew was because of his attraction to you. emotionally, he wouldn’t acknowledge it.

“at least to me,” tech added softly, attempting to make the situation better than what it was. your eyes widened again, unsure of how to feel about this. ever since you started working with the bad batch, talking about emotional experiences was hard with tech. so you didn’t. hearing him acknowledge your feelings and talk about his own shocked you. it shouldn’t have.

“when i was a kid, i was bullied a lot,” you started, pulling down the wall you’ve built up over the years, “their form of bullying was excluding me from things. i was invited to parties, but never talked to. i was never played with, and kids made fun of me for the stuff i liked,” you continued. you’ve never spoken to any of them about this. it was too sensitive. the fear of rejection and judgement was too strong.

silence followed, filling the space between you. tech didn’t know what to say, but he knew that this was sensitive information. he knew that it was hard for you to talk about, and so he didn’t want to say anything to potentially make things worse.

“hearing that little girl cry, asking her mother where everyone went, it just…i don’t know. it was under different circumstances but still,” you were failing to understand why the moment froze you. hunter was right, you could have been killed.

“it was a different circumstance, but,” tech started, his words coming out slowly as he processed them, “your fight or flight kicked in. it’s human nature whenever we come in contact with something that’s upset us or, dare i say, traumatized us,” his eyes searched yours, trying to read the expression on your face. tech knew what it was like to be ostracized for the things you’re good at. he was a defective clone, he knew almost exactly what you felt.

“when…when i was a cadet, still on kamino, i wasn’t treated very kindly by the regs simply for being different. the words they said, even some of the things they did, it was not kind of them,” tech’s words marinated in your mind for a moment. you found yourself completely facing him, engrossed in the man in front of you. you finally found someone to relate to, that knew what it was like to be excluded and bullied. for once, you could breathe.

“you didn’t deserve that,”

“neither did you,” he agreed, his warm, brown eyes cradling yours. he came to the same realization you did. he wasn’t as alone as he thought he was. as much as he wished neither of you went through what you did, it brought you two together, and he was grateful for that.

“we do need to work on your fight, flight, or freeze response,” he lightened the mood. you smiled and laid back in your chair.

“i know i know,” you smiled. you didn’t catch it, but tech smiled too.

here’s some tech! this was kind of self indulgent so i apologize for that, i still hope you enjoy though!

#star wars #star wars imagines #star wars imagine #star wars the clone wars #the bad batch #tbb tech #tbb imagine #tech bad batch imagines #tech x reader #tech bad batch x reader

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luvrrszn · 3 days

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hopeless devotion

JAMES POTTER x FEM READER

summary you are hopelessly devoted to james potter

warnings angst, fluff, bad writing, idk honestly, probably inaccurate hp facts,...???!/2/21

a/n guys it's actually been SOOOO long since i've written plz go easy on me i've missed writing so much but i've just been awfully busy :( anyways hopefully this won't be a catastrophic piece of writing!!

masterlist

the very day you met james potter, you had your eye set on him.

however, what started out as a friend-crush (you know, when you really really want to be friends with that one kid in your science class), eventually turned into a full-blown crush.

throughout your years in hogwarts, you became good friends with james, eventually becoming one of his best mates. however, as the years went by, you still never managed to muster up enough courage to confess your feelings to james.

so you decided it was enough to just stay by his side.

you were there when he developed a massive crush on lily evans. in fact, you were the one who gave him advice, and you were the one who cheered james up after lily rejected him for the seventh time. you were there throughout it all, even though it broke your heart.

you decided it was better to just stay friends, even if it hurt you to your core, than to be nothing at all.

—

"i won't be around this weekend. i'm going to hogsmeade with lily. she agreed to something casual." james declared, grinning as he sat down across you.

the thoughts in your head came to a halt. you didn't hear the chatter of the students in the dining hall anymore, completely stunned by james's sudden announcement.

you were swiftly brought out from your trance when sirius starts talking directly into your ear.

"oi, are you going to hogsmeade this weekend?" sirius asks as he sits down on your right, shoving bread in his face as he spoke.

"yeah, i'm going with evan." you reply, focused on reading the mail your beloved owl had brought you. in an attempt to force yourself to get over james, you had agreed to a hogsmeade date with evan, who was your potions partner.

even remus, who was seated on your left, turned to gape at you. sirius spoke incredulously, "rosier? evan rosier, that prick?" they were both shocked at your casual mention of the blonde slytherin boy.

"yes, evan rosier. and don't call him a prick, siri, he's actually quite nice."

“yeah, yeah. before you know it you'll be begging us to get you out of that date." sirius replies before going back to shovelling food into his mouth.

you peek at james, and his face is expressionless, jaw clenched. you can't read his face, but you figure he must be annoyed at something else.

because there's no way he's jealous that you're going on a date with even. right?

—

the weekend rolls by.

you go to hogsmeade with evan, having drinks and talking at the three broomsticks, buying sweet treats at honeydukes, walking around the area.

as the sun starts to set, you and evan decide to head back to hogwarts. on your walk back, evan's hand brushes against yours, and he takes your hand.

you fail to notice james and lily, walking behind you.

james has his hazel eyes are fixated on your hand resting in even rosier's.

—

"c'mon, what was that?" james grunts, a hint of annoyance hanging in the air as the two of you enter the gryffindor common room. evan and lily are long gone, even back to his own common room and lily off with her friends.

"what're you on about?" you reply, taking off your coat as you slump into the comfy sofa.

"you and rosier. what's up with that?" james huffs, his annoyance becoming more and more evident with each word he utters.

"there's nothing much, jamie. jus' went out for the day, that's all." you reply, sitting up a little straighter.

"c'mon, just spit it out! were you tryna make me jealous, or what?" he snaps.

you let out a laugh, "make you jealous? how could you say that? after all these years i've been by your side, helped you with lily, even when it broke my heart to. so if i'm finally moving the fuck on, the least you could do is be happy for me!"

shocked by your outburst, you immediately stand up, grab your coat and bolt back to your room. you slam the door behind you, slumping against the door.

you feel the eyes of everyone else in the dormitory on you, but you can't even process it, consumed by the realisation of what you'd just admitted.

—

for the next few days, you keep your distance from james. partly because you're still embarrassed by your sudden somewhat confession, but mostly because you wanted to stand your ground.

you thought that if he wanted to apologise, he would.

throughout the days that you avoid james, he tries to approach you multiple times. after potions, during lunch, even after his quidditch practice. all times, you manage to find one of your friends nearby, immediately beelining for them.

however, you still talk to remus, sirius and peter. you decided that whatever tension you had with james would remain between the both of you.

"c'mon, you've gotta talk to him. he's been mopey all week. and really grumpy too. and it's aaaaaallllllllll because of you." sirius grumbles, poking your shoulder as he sits down next to you in the common room.

"you're just being dramatic, siri. right?" you reply, turning to remus, hoping that he would tell you otherwise. however, you're disappointed when remus says, "nope. this time, he's actually telling the truth."

"hey!" sirius shouts, indignant.

"you gotta do something, please. he's always pissy." peter chimes in.

you sigh, getting up from your seat, "fine, I'll see what i can do."

you make your way to their dormitory.

—

you knock on the door softly, before opening it and sticking your head in. james is lying on his bed, back facing the door.

"christ, can you be any louder? get what you need, and get o—" he pauses when he sits up and realises it's you. he falls silent, letting out the softest "oh" you've ever heard.

"hey, what are you doing up here?" he asks softly as you kick off your shoes and sit down at the foot of his bed.

"i wanted to talk to you, if that's okay." you reply, fiddling with the hem of your sweater.

his sweater, actually. he lent it to you a year ago, when you felt cold during lunch. you liked it so much, you never returned it. he never asked for it back either.

for a second, james looks shocked. then he replies, "y-yeah. of course."

"i'm sorry i've been avoiding you lately, i just wasn't ready to talk yet. and i was embarrassed too, y'know. that wasn't exactly how i'd planned on telling you. but anyways, i just want to let you know i don't have any expectations. i think we should just go back to normal, if that's okay with you." you calmly explain, trying to remain composed, even though your heart is beating so fast you think it might actually explode.

an awkward silence falls between the both of you, and you can tell james is trying to collect all his thoughts before he speaks.

he runs his hand through his hair before saying, "christ. i've liked you for the longest time, i still do, but i thought i never had a chance. you were always too cool for me, y'know, and you still are. hearing you admit that you were trying to get over me, it made me so confused. i didn't know if you wanted anything to do with me anymore, let alone like me back. that's why i didn't do anything to try and "win you back". y'know?"

he rubs his arm, looking sheepish as he stares down at his bedsheets.

"i still like you, jamie. do you still like me?" you whisper.

he moves over, taking your face into your hands. he presses his lips onto yours, kissing you harder, and harder, and harder. and boy, do you kiss him back.

when the two of you finally break apart, you're breathless.

"so, is that a yes or a no?" you grin.

"it's a yes, you little twit."

#📓—juniwrites #marauders #marauders era #james potter #james potter angst #james potter fluff #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #harry potter

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selyeji · 14 hours

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lilac wine

jude bellingham x reader

summary : drinking much more you ought to drink brings you to him.

warnings : alcohol

as the yellow light stretches illuminating through the bar, jazz music spilled out your ears. you lay your head on your arm as your vision starts to blur, your index finger circling the half empty glass of alcohol.

you were never a heavy drinker, but you were finding something, anything, to fill that gap of emptiness within you. with insomnia, nothing is real to you. everyday was cycle, wake up, work, go home, sleep, repeat.

you pulled out your phone, opening your contacts to click on judes number. your thumb hovering around the screen, thinking whether to call him in this late hour. still hypnotized with the taste of alcohol, you risked it and called him. bringing your phone to your ear, waiting for the ringing to be answered. jude was a close friend of yours, someone you could talk to for hours. what he didn’t know was your feelings for him. you denied it to your very core. he’s an athlete while you’re just a regular person, why would he ever want a relationship with you?

your thoughts were interrupted by his voice. “hello? y/n?” in a raspy voice. “judeee can you pick me up? please?” in a playful tone, clearly tipsy. “where are you? you out drinking again? did something happen-” he kept asking, making your headache throb. “just please- i’ll just send my location yeah?” you interrupt him, ending the call before the ache got worse.

a few minutes passed, your eyes slowly close, eyelids felt heavy until someone opened the doors and called out your name. “y/n wake up, you shouldn’t be here.” jude said, covering your shoulders with his jacket. quietly standing up from the stool, he held your waist firmly making sure you won’t fall.

you both walk outside, meeting the rain. jude still held your body to keep balance, moving from the waist to your heavy shoulders. jude opens the door his passenger seat, letting you enter. you buckle your seatbelt, staring out the window. letting the low sound of music in judes car play throughout the ride, ignoring the silence. watching the raindrops race one another on the window.

arriving at judes house, you enter and immediately plopped yourself on the couch. he closed the doors behind him, going to the kitchen getting something for you to drink. you stare at him, admiring his features. he wasn’t just handsome or good looking, there was more to that but you could never find the right words. the ache in your head moves to your heart. you felt too much for your own good, even your own heart couldn’t handle it. you snap back to reality as jude places his hand on your head and neck, trying to check a sign of fever.

you grabbed his wrist, making him immediately look into your eyes. his big brown eyes reflecting yours, you could stare into forever. “what’s wrong?” he asked, his brows showing his worries. you knew if you could say your true feelings, the aching to recover will be gone. its either that or to lose another close friend, pushing them away. you had no other choice.

“jude.” you said, your voice almost breaking. “yeah?” “i love you.” you responded in a quiet but soft voice, you couldn’t bear holding the eye contact any longer. staring at the ceiling, he was at the corner of your eye. silently staring back, mouth a bit open from shock. “you should sleep, the alcohol in your system is still-“ jude says but you interrupted him.

“im not drunk jude. you caused an heartache from the moment i met you. i mean it.” sighing, thinking he doesn’t feel the same. as long as you released the words begging to be let out. you slowly got up, until jude held your cheek softly. before you could even process anything, his lips touch yours. closing your eyes, embracing the kiss. your face heats up, you were kissing jude. the jude bellingham. someone you doubted your love for the longest.

your lips part, staring at each other. “don’t kiss just to console for my feelings.” he held both of your hands between his. “that kiss was made out of desire y/n.” his tone was sincere, but you held your doubts close to your chest. afraid your depth of love will be the same depth of your wound. “but why me? you could have anyone in the world with a beauty like yours.” you said, tears could be seen gather to your eyes. “i saw you with my heart, not my eyes. i love you y/n.” jude said before crashing his lips onto yours once again. you give in, hugging his larger frame.

you are his, he’s yours. your body relaxes, that ache turns into pleasure. it felt like you could stay in that position till the end of time, intertwined to each other. showing affection, no amount of words could express this. as your lips separate, forehead leaning to each other, sharing your bodies warmth with each other in the cold trickling rain.

you both cuddle on the couch, resting your head on the crook of his neck as he lays below you. legs intertwined with each other, comfortably talking to each other, caressing each others back from time to time. “it’s getting late, i should go home now.” you got up on your fours until jude pulled your body back down. “stay. pleasee baby.” he begged, using his infamous puppy eyes. you couldn’t resist to that, it would feel like ignoring a stray puppy down the street, you smile before laying back down. “y’know we should move to the bed instead.” you mumble out, tired from the cramped space but you didn’t mind being close to him. “great idea” jude said, getting up while carrying you, your legs around his waist. hugging your arms around his neck.

entering his room, he threw himself and you onto the bed. squeezing you, leaving no space between your bodies. jude peppered your face with kisses before moving next to you. keeping his arm above your waist, finding a place on your neck for his nose to rest. breathing became synchronized, your eyelids slowly close, the weight of your shoulders gone. finally being able to sleep after weeks. jude cleared out every problem, he found a home in your heart.

daily click to help palestine

a/n : second fic 💯💯 send in requests PLEASEEEGHH 😭🙏🙏

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham x y/n #football x reader #football imagine #footballer x reader

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live-laugh-lenney · 1 day

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Hey I was wondering if you could write a little something about being on tour with George and Max like how max has Andrew with him no worries if not love your writing x

oh, imagine all the mischief they'd get up to... :'))

george loves it.

he loves waking up and seeing yn in the crew bunk opposite him on the tour bus, wearing an oversized t-shirt from their merch collection, curled up underneath the blanket she'd brought to add to her home comforts on the bus. he loves cosying up with her on the sofa in the made-up living space area, munching on snacks that they would buy from the service stations they stop at on the way to each location, as they watch the world go by on their travels to the next tour location. he loves getting to stay up late with her after each show is finished, talking nonsense and having the bus to themselves as max has his snooze in the bedroom at the end. there's just something relaxing, for him, that helps him wind down after each show with her being right beside him.

she's there during the meet and greets, too.

usually sat in the background or loitering by the set on the stage as she watches the two of them hug or take gifts from those who had brought them something special, and she listens as they say hello to everyone who had paid for tickets to see them before each of the shows. and, every so often, someone would recognise yn and they'd come over and say hello to her and include her in their conversations which she absolutely adores. (and sometimes, they bring gifts just for her and she doesn't know whether to cry on the spot or hug them or do both - which george loves to see happen and he's always standing behind with a massive grin on his face as he watches her interact with his fans).

her and max would be chaos.

they'd constantly 'bicker' over george and during the london show, she would make an appearance on stage with a 'query that she needs help with' and it would simply be about how there's some guy who won't leave her boyfriend alone - much like andrew did at the recent london show at the weekend.

"tonight, we thought we'd welcome a few special guests who have a few issues of their own that we most definitely are qualified to help with," george introduces the next, and final, segment of the london show and it's the time when the audience understands why the two arthur's and herself had been announced as guests for the show, "so, without further ado, can we please welcome onto the stage... our very first guest and my very lovely girlfriend, yn!"

she's met with cheers and blinding lights shining upon her as she steps from behind the wings of the stage and makes herself known to those in the audience. her cheeks heating up, already sweating from the stage lights that were intensely lighting her up, and her legs were like jelly as she with the phone in her hand.

"i'm actually really thankful you guys chose my query," she says into the microphone once the cheers had subsided, "i think it's getting worse and i was in desperate need of some answers."

"and how may we help you, dear yn?"

"you see, my boyfriend is currently on tour with his podcast co-host and i'm pretty certain said co-host has a thing for said boyfriend," she says playfully and max feigns shock, holding his hand to his chest with his mouth gaped open, "he's very forward with advances."

"how forward?" max asks.

"well, i'm currently visiting my boyfriend and there's been times when i come back from the toilet and said co-host is in my place beside him. he likes to cuddle with him a lot, too, which makes me feel very jealous," yn frowns playfully and her brows furrow dramatically and it makes the audience laugh loudly, "i was hoping for some alone time since it's been a while since i've seen him but, i'm scared i'm being replaced unwillingly."

"have you tried anything to stop this?" george asks, trying his best to hold back the laughter that was building up within him, "maybe, we should get our own bus?"

"or, you know, you should just consider the option of a throuple?"

shepherd's bush fills with cheers and claps and george just shakes his head at how max encourages the crowd to go louder with over-the-top hand movements to increase the volume. and yn can't help but giggle as george rolls his eyes.

"a throuple?"

"i'm sure said co-host is happy to share," max looks over at george as george's eyes are trained on yn, smirks on both of their lips, "i mean, if you're happy to share, that is."

"i don't know," yn pretends to think about it, tapping her chin with her finger before she placed both of her hands on her hips, "my boyfriend is very handsome, you see, so i really understand why he's in such demand by this co-host."

"maybe said boyfriend has eyes for his girlfriend and only her?" she hears george say into his microphone as the audience cheers at her previous statement, "have you asked him that? you're very beautiful so maybe he doesn't see what's happening because he's distracted by how you are? maybe he just loves you so much that he can't see what's happening?"

max pretends to gag and yn snickers softly at his actions.

"i don't think my boyfriend would like to hear you say that, george clarke," yn teases and george stands from his seat, walking around the desk he was sat at to stand beside her, "you know what, i think i'm just being silly because the co-host is so gay. unless-"

"nope," george shakes his head and stands beside her, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips as the crowd coos and cheers at what they were witnessing. and away from the microphone, he whispers, "i love you. nothing to worry about," into her ear and it's enough for her to melt under him.

"give it up for yn, ladies and gents," max grins widely and gives her a theatrical applaud himself, standing up to give her a hug, "i feel so accomplished tonight, we've helped so many people."

and when the show finishes, like she does every night, she joins them as they do a mini meet-and-greet with those who were waiting by the stage door in hopes of seeing them after the show. and she happily takes photos with those who asked her and has conversations with those who ask her questions and want to talk to her opposed to max and george.

it's always fun and the two weeks she spends on tour is something she speaks about for ages.

mini tiktok vlogs on her days spent with them, instagram q&a's about what she got up to and what her favourite night was, posting tweets during the shows as little updates for those that never got tickets. it's like a two week holiday for her and she has the best time. xx

#george clarkey #george clarkey imagines #george clarkey fics #george clarkey blurbs #george clarkey headcannons #george clarke #george clarke imagines #george clarke fics #george clarke blurbs #george clarke headcannons

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likedovesinthewindd · 3 days

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hola hola!

I just finished your Rodrick Fic, and was wondering if you would write Rodrick fic, where he’s neglecting reader to practice for his band more, and she gets a little upset and confronts him?

thank you🫶🏽

-🪼

this is too cute! (fem!reader)

When Rodrick had invited you over, you thought it meant that the two of you would be spending some alone time after the busy week, but now you sat in his basement trying to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at how much fun him and his friends were having. You were lazily lounged on the old couch, occupying yourself paging through an old Seventeen magazine, the front cover image of Katy Perry well worn and wrinkled.

You never minded when Rodrick hung out with his bandmates and did practice — he had different aspects of his social life just like you. But recently, that time was starting to bleed into the time he usually spent with you. A few weeks ago, they had somehow managed to score a gig, and since then it had been non-stop practice. You were happy for him and his bandmates, truly, but you missed spending time alone with your boyfriend.

You tried to focus on the article infront of you, but your attention would falter every time you heard Rodrick laugh at one his friends' stupid jokes. He should be laughing at your stupid jokes, he should be spending time with you today.

You let out a annoyed huff as you stood from the couch, the article discarded as you made your way to the kitchen for a glass of water. You stood at the kitchen sink, quietly watching the water filling the glass as you willed yourself to calm down.

Just then Rodrick walked in, making a beeline for the fridge. He pulled out a six-pack of cold drinks before exiting the kitchen once again, barely acknowledging you.

"Rodrick?" you asked, your voice sounding equally shocked and hurt as you watched him do a 180. "Yeah?" he asked as he watched you close the tap and place the glass on the kitchen counter. "How long are you going to be practicing?" you asked. He shrugged, placing the six-pack on the counter next to your glass. He scratched the back of his neck as he shrugged. "Not sure," he answered, "Why?"

It was your turn to shrug. "I wanted to spend a little time with you?" you said, "I bought that movie you wanted to watch." He mulled the words over in his head, biting at his bottom lip. "We won't be long, I promise," he said. He said that an hour ago too.

"Well, can't you just call it a day?" you asked, your voice sounding a bit whiny even to your own ears. "You've been practicing for an hour and a half now."

"Y'know I just want it to be perfect for Friday," he reassoned. You rolled your eyes, tired of begging for his attention. "Well sorry for trying to spend time with my boyfriend," you said, "I dunno why you'd invite me over if you were just gonna spend the whole afternoon with your friends." Rodrick's eyebrows furrowed, his mouth pouting in a way you always found cute, but it only irritated you now.

"I dunno what you want me to do," he said softly. "I want you to spend some time with me," you said, voice raised slightly, "we haven't hung out in forever, and I just want some quality time with my boyfriend. Alone," you added to emphasize.

It seemed to finally click with Rodrick, and it was like you could physically see the switch flip in his head. "I'm sorry," he said sheepishly, "I've just been thinking about that stupid gig."

"It's not stupid," you said, wrapping your arms around his waist as you took in his features, placing a soft kiss to his cheek. "I'm very happy for you, and I get that you want it to be perfect. But I miss you." another kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He relented happily, kissing you as your hands rubbed up and down his back. His hands found place on both of your cheeks before the kiss deepened. You sighed softly when he pulled away. "Tell your friends to go home," you said, uncircling your arms from his waist, laughing at the speed he ran to the basement.

✰ ⊹ ˚.

a/n: hi anon! i really liked enjoyed this request it was too cute. also sorry it took me sooo long

#anons: 🪼#rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley x fem!reader #rodrick heffley x y/n #rodrick x reader #rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley x you #doawk rodrick #likedovesinthewindd

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pizzabiscuitwithglasses · 2 days

Text

Two people one bed trope with the mashle gang (nothing steamy, mostly crack)

So I recently fell into the mashle rabbit hole and there's not enough content so here are my thoughts about the main cast having to share a room with you, their crush:

Those who will accept to share the bed with you:

Dot is very excited about sleeping in the same bed with you but he has never done it before so he is very nerveous. He spends the whole night awake, sweating bullets, unable to move a muscle and barely breathing as he is anxious about disturbing your sleep. He will still boast the next day to his friends about the "hot" night you spent sharing a bed but everyone is calling out his bluff. 4 out 10 his immobility was concerning you had to check his pulse thinking he died but also don't talk big when you can't even hold a hand?

Lance would probably not care much. He hops in his pyjamas and sleeps on his side his back facing away from you, hugging a giant pillow with the picture of his little sister on it. Also he either sleeps with open eyes or some other uncanny sleeping stuff . 5/10, good night sleep but the lack of physical proximity was underwhelming plus the sleep talk took you by surprise

Lemon pretends to be surprised even though it's no coincidence you have to share the same bed (she swears it's a honest mistake tehehehe). It would be like a nice pyjama party but she will keep asking you questions all night long. If you are still able by some miracle to fall asleep despite her never ending talk, you will wake up after a short moment felling a pair of glowing yellow globes eerily staring at you as if they were piercing your soul... 5 out of 10, too much activity and staring with not enough sleep.

Those who prefer jumping in the mouth of a volcano to jumping in the same bed with you:

Of course Mash breaks the door to your room and is shocked to be greeted by one big bed instead of two small ones. However, don't you worry, he puts the door back in its frame and will guard it to make sure no will disturb your sleep. You used magic to fix the door? Huh, he just remembered he wanted to try a new training. He does an invisible chair and sleeps like that for the whole night. He really doesn't want to invade your intimacy 6/10 confused but got the heart in the right place.

Finn tries complaining to the staff about the mistake which makes you think that maybe he doesn't like you. Him becoming a blushing mess when confronted with the reality of sharing a room makes you reconsider your first impression. He deeply appologizes for the uncomfortable situation and you cannot convince him to get in the bed with you. He chooses to sleep on the chair. 7 out 10 a true gentleman.

Bonus: (because why not)

Like his brother Rayne tries to make the management fix the issue. His intimidating looks and impressive title do not take him very far. Despite your reassurances, he refuses to take advantage of the situation. He sleeps in the corridor, his back leaning on your room's door. 8 out of 10, a chivalrous knight.

You think that Orter would give the hotel an earful when the promised double room is just one king bed instead but the sight makes his brain short cut. He looks at the bed then back at you, announces he will get a drink before leaving and never looking back. He doesn't invite you and drinks the night away at the hotel bar all alone. ?? out 10 because you were kinda hopeful he was coming back and that would spark the begining of your love story but at the same time you appreciate his thoughtfulness about giving all of the space you need??

Ryoh would moonwalk out of the room and go back home to spend the night with his family. He would probably use light magic or teleportation IDK. What I do know is that sharing a room let alone a bed with somebody else would be cheating and ain't no way that man gonna cheat on his baby mama!! 1000 out of 10 for our loyal king 🤴

#mashle #mash burnedead #finn ames #dot barrett #lemon irvine #lance crown #rayne ames #orter madl #orter mádl #mashle orter #mashle x reader #mashle magic and muscles #finn mashle #ryoh grantz #mashle fluff #mashle finn #mashle fanfic

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bensonoliviasstuff · 2 days

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“Turning Page”

Chapter four! “We're gonna be Timeless”

Masterlist for Turning Page

Bucky Barnes x fem! reader

Summary: Once Bucky regained consciousness and was no longer the Winter Soldier, all he missed from the 40s was his wife. But maybe she's closer than he thought.

Warnings: English is NOT my first language, so I'm sorry if there are too many errors. A little bit of angst, Rape, memory loss, betrayal, trauma, Insecurities. And the best part: Thanos doesn't exist here

Taglist: @capswife @mostlymarvelgirl @scott-loki-barnes @bxckybxrnes24

“Even if we'd met on a crowded street

in 1944

And you were headed off to fight in

the war

You still would've been mine, we would

have been timeless

I would've read your love letters every

single night

And prayed to God you'd be coming home

all right

And you would've been fine, we would

have been timeless.

‘Cause I believe that we were supposed

to find this”

~ Timeless (Taylor's Version)

You and Natasha arrived at the medical wing, the last time you had been here was when you woke up to the doctors and Tony doing tests.

You hadn't been able to pay that much attention to your surroundings, but now you were hiding behind Natasha as she walked towards the room.

She went in first, talking to Bucky and asking details about the mission and how they got hurt, you continued behind her until she took two steps to the side, finally allowing Bucky to see you.

He seemed very surprised to see you there, opening his mouth to say something but not being able to produce a sound.

“Hi” you said shyly, thinking it would be up to you to break the silence.

“Hi” He said with a smile “What are you doing here?”

“She wanted to see you” Natasha said, hiding her smirk from you.

“Well I..." you stuttered nervously, Bucky smiled at how cute you looked nervous "I... It's not... I just... I was worried" you pointed to his human arm, which was where, you noticed, he got hurt.

“Were you worried about me?” he said pretentious “No need to stutter, thank you, doll”

You froze at the nickname, realizing no one had ever called you that before but with Bucky it felt so right.

He noticed how disconcerted you were and only then did he understand what he said.

He panicked, it was so natural to call you like that, he didn't realize that it wasn't anymore.

“I meant... I...” He stuttered, having no idea what to do to fix the situation, and what if you got scared and moved away from him.

“Who’s stuttering now, huh?” You joked, looking away and biting your bottom lip to hide your rosy cheeks.

He looked at you confused, weren't you surprised? You wouldn't be scared by the nickname and move away?

It seemed not.

Then he smiled at you, still a little embarrassed, but hope seemed to shine in his heart in a way it hadn't in a long time.

Natasha had a hand over her mouth almost in shock at the way Bucky seemed to have suddenly become a teenager, stuttering and flirting, that was definitely not the Bucky she knew.

That made her smile, it wasn't the Bucky she met at the compound, but it was the Bucky you met back in the 40s.

A week passed after Bucky was injured on the mission, and Steve and Natasha were currently sitting at the breakfast table, watching Bucky eating with a smile on his face, wishing good morning to anyone who passed him.

“I think he’s sick” Steve whispered to the redhead

“Lovesick” Natasha whispered back, which made them both contain a laugh.

“Oh my God” Steve put a hand over his mouth in shock. “In 90 years I have never seen Bucky Barnes wake up in a good mood.”

“90?” Natasha said with doubt “He looks like he just turned 15 and is having his first girlfriend”

Tony arrived in the kitchen passing Bucky who happily looked at him and said “Good morning, Tony!”

Tony looked at Bucky with an expression of true fear, quickly moving away and heading towards Steve and Natasha.

"He is sick?" Tony said with a terrified expression.

Steve and Natasha looked at each other before turning to Tony and saying together:

“Love Sick”

It's been like this for the last week, Bucky started spending more time with you, and consequently Bucky seemed to be constantly in his own pink world, no one had seen him this happy in a while.

Despite that, what was still killing him inside was the fact that even after a week here you still didn't remember anything.

He was losing hope that you would remember, but he didn't care about winning you over again, he didn't care about marrying you again, he would do all this dozens of times if it meant he would have you.

He was spending the rest of his hopes on the plans he had set up for today.

“Good morning” you said as you arrived in the kitchen and sat down next to Steve, extending your hand to take a toast that was on the plate when Tony patted your hand.

“This is mine, Little Princess” He said, taking the toast and putting it in his mouth.

You smiled with furrowed eyebrows. “What’s the difference between this one and all the others?”

“I wanted this one, so I got this one” Natasha and Steve laughed. “Earn your seat before choosing the toast”

You laughed, crossing your arms.

“Since you are the voice of wisdom in the kitchen, reveal to me what toast I can get with my insignificance”

He looked at you surprised by your answer, you knew how to suck up, he was starting to like you.

“Y/n don’t do this, If there's anyone sucking up to Tony he's going to get even more arrogant” Natasha said taking your hand.

“I’m just earning my place”

Bucky joined everyone who was laughing at the situation, sitting next to you.

“Good morning” he said, looking at you with affection.

It was still weird to you the way it felt like you had known each other your whole life even after just 8 days together.

But what could you do? You've never felt so comfortable with someone before.

“Good morning, Buck” You felt it was unnatural the way the compound made you feel at home.

“I have a surprise for you” He said, finishing eating and guiding you to your room. “There’s a dress in the wardrobe, I’m going to take you somewhere”

Here begin their last attempts to make you remember.

You went to the wardrobe finding a very beautiful dress, simple and beautiful, you seemed to have seen it somewhere before, but you didn't really know where.

You dressed feeling weird, in the week you were here you only wore hoodies similar to the ones you wore on the first day.

You put it on and decided that you would look better with your hair up, after taking a look in the bathroom mirror, you spent a moment trying to memorize how you looked, it was such a weird sensation that it felt like you were a spectator looking at you in the third person.

Weird, Weird, Weird, it was all Weird, you were tired of using that word for everything this last week.

It was weird having lunch with Bucky, it was weird watching movies with Steve, it was weird going to sleep with music.

You needed to find another word, "weird" was already losing its meaning in your mind.

It was like... It was like...

You sighed, giving up for now, but you would find a word.

You left the room going to the living room that faced the kitchen, Steve, Natasha and Bruce were sitting there.

As soon as Steve laid eyes on you he choked on his own saliva, Natasha patting him as she looked at you with a surprised look.

“Look at her so pretty, where are you going?”

You opened your mouth to respond and then you realized: you didn't know, Bucky hadn't told you anything.

“It’s a surprise, I’m going to take her somewhere” Bucky appeared in the room, placing a hand on your shoulder.“Have a nice ride” Bruce said friendly.

"Yeah, enjoy” Natasha said, patting Steve more.

“Thank you” Bucky said leading you out of the compound, only when you left Steve took a breath.

“What was that, captain?” Natasha said “I thought your hundred years were beginning to take you to the higher plane.

“That dress” Steve said, still a little breathless “It was the dress she wore when Bucky proposed to her”

Natasha opened her mouth in shock. “How did he get a similar dress?”

“Persistence” Bruce said, getting both of their attention “He’s determined to make her remember”

You smiled as the air hit your face and messed up your ponytail, it was the first time you had seen the city in a long time, And it was the first time you had ever been to a city without any mission to kill someone.

Bucky looked at you smiling, You were so beautiful that he fought every instinct to put a hand on your cheek.

"Where are we going?" you turned to him “I think we’ve been in the car for more than twenty minutes”

“I told you it’s a surprise” He said, after a few minutes you noticed a sign approaching.

‘Welcome to Brooklyn’

“Brooklyn?” You said with a smile “It’s my first time in Brooklyn”

Weird, that sentence didn't seem right.

“Weird” again???? What was the other word you were going to use anyway?

Bucky's smile faltered for a moment after you said that, it was quick, if you had blinked you wouldn't have seen it, but you did.

“Yeah, well... I like it here” He said looking into your eyes “It reminds me of home”

Weird, it felt like home to you too.

Agh, someone remove weird from your vocabulary.

When you noticed you were in front of a hospital. Wait, a hospital? Was this Bucky’s idea of “Surprise”?

"A... hospital?" You said, watching the nurses for too long.

It felt right, but you refused to say the word “Weird” again.

“The best place to park is out front” Bucky lied, he wanted to start where you started. "Let's walk"

The two of you walked for a short time, but everything seemed to be hitting you in the gut, the buildings, the streets, even the stores.

Bucky stopped when you arrived at a square, it wasn't that busy but there were still a lot of children and their parents.

Bucky looked at you, searching for any trace of memory on your face, you guys used to come here sometimes on Fridays before lunch, where you would look at the children playing after they got out of school and planned the future, planned children, you would have three children, two boys and a girl because you always dreamed of brothers Michael and Steve protecting the little Olivia.

You looked at the children, smiling with the desperate parents with the naughty children.

“Ah, I always wanted to have children” You said looking around. “Thanks to Hydra this is no longer biologically possible” You saddened, Bucky broke down.

“They… They…” Bucky couldn’t finish the sentence.

“I was kind of a toy, they took out my uterus for safety” You said, looking at Bucky with a smile to prevent him from falling to the ground right then and there “But I'm fine, thanks to you, You are my “Avengers” heroes, thank you for getting me out of there”

He still looked inconsolable, looking at you as if his puppy had died. You didn't want to ruin your day.

“Come on, what do you have planned?” You shook him, trying to make him forget.

He shook his head, seeming to remember his intentions from earlier in the day.

“That one there is the best ice cream ever” He said, pointing to an ice cream cart in the square.

“I can’t wait to try it”

Bucky smiled weakly, you used to prefer desserts before lunch, he always thought that was strange, but according to you it was the fun of being able to be a happy adult.

You went to the old man who was taking care of the ice cream cart.

You stared at the yellow car trying to remember where you recognized it from, but you were unsuccessful despite it sticking in your head.

“A cone of chocolate ice cream, please” Bucky asked, handing the money to the man.

The little old man handed you the cone, looking into your eyes as if he were an old friend, you smiled back, feeling something in your stomach twist.

Bucky guided you to another place, but you continued to stare at the old man, the weirdest thing was that he also kept looking at you and smiling as if he knew exactly what was happening.

You and Bucky sat on a bench near the toys and the noise of the children made you pay attention to the present again.

You tasted the ice cream, feeling astonished when the taste seemed so familiar to you.

You stopped, looking at the ice cream as if trying to figure out if there was some kind of pixie dust in it.

You looked at Bucky

“In fact, it’s the best ice cream I’ve ever had”

He smiled at you, waiting for something more, something like “Oh my God, I remembered all the times we ate ice cream before lunch because I looked like a spoiled child!”

But nothing like that came out of your mouth.

“What do you say we have lunch now?” He asked, the idea seemed quite pleasant to you, so he took you to a nearby restaurant.

As soon as you entered, you felt the atmosphere change, the restaurant smelled like home on Sundays with the family, homemade food, barbecue, children running around the house.

You never had any of this, no family on Sunday, so why did it all feel so strangely right?

Bucky seemed to notice that you felt the atmosphere of the place intensely. “It’s a good place, right?”

You looked around, your eyes seemed to shine and you felt like crying, stupid, why would you cry?

You placed a hand on your chest, walking through the restaurant and watching the customers sitting there with their families, children laughing, the sound of forks meeting plates, and a little melody in the background, God it made you want to cry like a child, And you couldn't find any plausible reason to be so emotional about a normal everyday scene.

Bucky walked behind you hopefully, his eyes almost begging you to remember all the moments you built here.

“How does it feel knowing this is your last day as a single woman?” Bucky held his hand, with a huge smile on his face.

You smiled, looking around the restaurant. “tomorrow I’ll be a married woman” You sighed at the title “Who knew, when I saw you the first time I was sure you weren’t a man who would marry one day”

“And I wasn’t” He laughed “I never was, until I met you” He observed every detail of your face. “I still don't know if I'm going to do this right, but it's not about being a man to marry, it's about knowing that I'll never be able to spend a moment of my life away from you"

He meant every one of those words, It hurt like hell every second he spent away from you after he had redoubled old Bucky's consciousness.

As soon as he left Wakanda, he and Steve went in search of any trace of you, Hydra had taken everything, even photos of your funeral, he spent a long time believing that you had died of cancer many years ago, never having married after him.

This left him inconsolable many times a day, you never having married again, never having had children, never having sought happiness after him.

And now he was here, willing to wait for your love regardless of how long it took for you to love him again.

“Lets sit?" He asked, and you seemed to snap out of your trance, looking at him and nodding.

You sat at a beautiful table that overlooked the entire square you were in before.

Bucky asked if you wanted to choose, but you didn't know exactly what to order so you left it up to him to choose.

You smiled in surprise when a combo with a burger and fries arrived at your table.

You grabbed a fry, putting it in your mouth and letting out a sigh at how good it was.

“This is really good, I don’t think I’ve ever had something this delicious before.” So you picked up the burger to take a bite and as soon as the flavor hit your mouth, your brain felt like a building on fire.

You let go of the burger, pressing your temple as it hurt more, the more it hurt, the more laughter you heard.

That's when you realized the laughter wasn't coming from the people in the restaurant, it was coming from your head.

“I’m always head over heels for you, Doll.”

“Are you okay, Y/n?”

You no longer knew what was really happening and what were voices in your head.

Then, just as it started, it suddenly dissipated.

“Y/n what is wrong?” Bucky asked once again, you looked at him and saw concern in his eyes.

“My head... It started to hurt like my brain was being roasted.” You placed your hand over your forehead “I started hearing things”

"What kind of things?" He asked, still worried, what if it was some side effect of something Hydra did to you?

You looked at him, how would you explain that you suddenly remembered hearing his voice somewhere?

“Things” you said bluntly, removing your hand from your forehead, Suddenly Bucky was laughing. “What's the fun?" You asked confused.

“You just got sauce on your forehead” he took a napkin and wiped your face, you laughed weakly, going back to eating your burger. “When you're done eating, let's go back to the compound, okay? I’m worried about your headache.”

You nodded and took another bite of the burger, this time the taste didn't hurt your brain, The taste was comforting, the way it seemed so familiar was weird.

Not weird, but... Ah, you haven't decided on a word yet.

You finished eating and Bucky left to pay the bill, so you were left wondering what could explain why you heard Bucky's voice in the middle of that chaos, what if Natasha was right? Did you know each other?

"Let's go?" Bucky's voice broke you out of your thoughts.

You walked calmly to the car, Bucky made a funny comment every now and then, and then you fell into a comfortable silence.

When you were near the hospital, Bucky took his keys out of his pocket and with them his wallet fell out.

He didn’t seem to notice so you bent down to pick it up “Buc...” the name died in your mouth when you took a look.

Your knees weakened and everything inside you felt like it was burning now.

There was a photo, a beautiful couple, it didn't seem so shocking until you realized it was Bucky

And you.

The breath left you when you took a look at the image, you were wearing a wedding dress and holding a bouquet of lilies, Bucky was in his suit and kept his eyes on you the whole time.

You stood up, feeling dizzy from the impact that photo had on you, were you married? No, it's impossible, you met 7 days ago, how could you be married?

Bucky turned back only to see your indignant face holding his wallet, he panicked very quickly.

“Y/n... Listen...” He tried to get closer but you took two steps back, dropping your wallet as everything in your body burned just like in the restaurant

"Who are you?" You almost screamed, but your voice didn't come out, tears falling from your face as you felt more headache.

“Come on, doll...” He said, and you remembered his voice that you heard from the restaurant, calling you doll.

“I’m always head over heels for you, doll.”

“Stop!" You placed your hand over your temples in an attempt to calm it all.

“What’s going on, Y/n? What’s wrong? let me help you please!” He begged, but his mind felt like it was starting to go blank, as if several light bulbs were flickering on and off.

“I promise to be true to you, in joy and in sadness, in sickness and in health; I will love you and honour you all the days of my life"

You smiled with tears in your eyes.

"You can kiss the bride"

You looked at Bucky as the memories made you more confused, God! it was driving you crazy, you had two people in conflict inside your head fighting for position.

That's when Bucky approached, holding you by the elbows, As soon as he touched you a key seemed to turn in your head.

It felt like someone had taken glass from your eyes.

Everything seemed to make sense.

Your heart seemed to make sense.

“Bucky” you whispered, tears streaming down your eyes, you raised your hands to touch his face, gently running your fingertips over the marks on his face.

He smiled “Yes, doll, Bucky” then he spent more time watching your face, he started to get rigid as soon as he noticed your gaze changed.

It wasn't Y/n from Hydra

It was his y/n.

His wife.

As soon as he realized this, he desperately placed a hand on your cheek, feeling you, feeling the heat of your skin, feeling your labored breathing.

“You’re alive” You said weakly, but before you could hear his response the headache overcame you, your vision became blurred.

Strong arms held you and you knew you were home.

It wasn't weird, it was... it was...

It was Timeless

#bucky barnes x reader #imagine #bucky barnes #steve rogers #winter soldier #writing #captain america #fanfic #natasha romanoff #tony stark #bruce banner

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rainba · 2 hours

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Behind the Building ღ

A/N: Hi :3 Wrote this so that I could practice writing Ace some more... Getting his personality down and stuff. ( ´ ꒳ ` ) Very self-indulgent...

CW/tags: face fucking, semi-public sex, GN reader, smoking…?, Ace being Ace

Kind of porn without plot.....? A little bit of plot.

18+, NSFW, MDNI.

The summer air outside was terribly hot and humid– almost to the point of being unbearable.

But within the venue, everything was just right. Gathered inside the building was a crowd roaring with energy, dancing and jumping to the sound of the fast-paced beat, tapping their feet and bouncing with the rhythm.

And up on stage was nobody other than Ace, the one who carried the entire band on his shoulders.

Sweat trickled down his skin as he passionately screamed the lyrics of his newest songs, his pale hands working an electric guitar as he looked out into the crowd. Everyone standing before him… Or at least most of them… They were all his fans. Fans of his work, fans of his personality, fans of everything he had to offer. It was addicting.

Being accepted by so many people was addicting.

His guitar pick moved faster still as he continued playing his metal tunes, grinning even wider as the crowd cheered louder. The energy surging through the room was palpable. But alas, as with everything, it all had to come to an end. The hours and minutes passed in the blink of an eye, everyone was coming down from their highs, and the show came to a positive end.

Tonight was yet another success.

“Hell yeah, that ruled!” Ace gave his singular other bandmate a high-five as they exited the stage, their hearts pounding within their chests as they went to pack their things. The way everybody screamed their names was so exciting, intoxicating, thrilling– but… There was something bothering Ace.

As he went backstage and returned his guitar to its case, he couldn’t stop thinking about one person in particular: you.

During the entire show, he had been subconsciously looking for you. Were you hidden in the back? Were you listening to him while hanging out at the bar? Were you hidden behind some random, inconveniently placed pole?

Did… Did you even show up?

These thoughts plaguing Ace’s mind were overwhelming– and far too negative for his liking. He needed to step outside for a second.

“Yo, I’ll be back soon! I’m gonna go out for a smoke.” Ace waved at his fellow band member, to which they smiled and waved back. When he stepped outside, Ace noticed that there was a large crowd forming near the entrance. There were whispers among them– as well as laughter.

“Dude– somebody knocked over the porta potty! Someone was still in there!”

“Whaaaat- no way dude! That’s hilarious!”

“Woah… That’s sick and twisted.”

…Intriguing. But Ace didn’t have time to come take a look– he needed to smoke and get the stress out of his system.

Sneaking out back, Ace pulled out a white lighter and leaned against the dark brick wall of the building, sighing while running one hand through his soft hair. He tried his best to ignore the heat.

Ace knew smoking was bad– but he couldn’t help himself. It was one of his only bad habits… And everyone should be allowed to have at least one bad thing that they do, right? Right…?

With yet another sigh, Ace lit the cigarette and put it to his lips, closing his eyes for a second.

And in that short second, someone snuck up on him and scared the life out of him.

“Ace! What did I tell you about smoking!?”

Ace yelped as you ran up to him and took the stick from his mouth, gripping it between your fingers. At first, he was shocked and angry, but those feelings quickly faded as his eyes met yours.

“Woah– y-you came! You actually showed up!!”

Ace grinned and laughed as he nearly tackled you over, his arms wrapping around your body while he forced you into a tight embrace. The cigarette was quickly forgotten.

“Uhh… Of course I showed up. Why would I miss one of your shows?” You gently pushed him away as you stepped back, the humidity in the air making any and all physical contact uncomfortable. But Ace only stepped closer.

“I… I dunno! I just…” Sheepishly, he scratched the back of his head.

“W-well, anyways. Did you like it?! Did you have fun?” His eyes looked to you for approval, putting his fragile heart in your hands as he asked for your opinion. You nodded.

“Of course I had fun– I always love your shows!”

Your words of praise– that’s all he needed. Honestly, that’s all he ever needs. Once again, his arms spread out wide as he pulled you into another warm hug.

“Awesome!! I can’t wait for you to come to my next one too!”

Without realizing it, he had you pinned against the wall, trapping you between himself and the building. There was nobody else around- they were all too distracted by the incident out front.

Nobody would be able to hear you two.

“And the one after that– and the one after that!” He was giggling so innocently, so sweetly. “How’d you like that one song I performed? Y’know– my most popular one–” Ace’s hands grabbed yours. “The one I made for you.”

Ace continued to push you for more and more compliments; he was addicted to hearing them, after all. Constantly seeking your approval. It was cute.

Perhaps Ace truly was a little innocent and oblivious, or perhaps he was just purposefully ignoring it, but… He was incredibly hard. And his bulge was pushing directly into you.

How easy it would be to mess with him…

“I loved all of your songs,” you spoke softly. Ace opened his mouth to reply, but you quickly cut him off.

“Actually. Can you sing one more time for me tonight?”

Slightly, he tilted his head to the side. “Huh? You want me to sing again–?” Ace looked confused as you switched positions with him. Instead of you being pressed against the wall, it was him leaning against it. He still didn’t catch on to what was happening… Not until you started getting on your knees.

His face turned a dark shade of red.

“W-woah– woah– What are… What are you doing?”

Ace’s breathing grew heavier as you started to unzip his baggy pants, your half-lidded eyes staring hungrily at his bulge. He couldn’t stop the way his hands reached up to cover his mouth.

“You performed so well tonight! And you tried to smoke again– so… Clearly you need something to take the edge off. How about I help you?”

Slowly, teasingly, you stuck your tongue out and licked his length from over his boxers, and he whined loudly. “Ah–ahh–! Wait, wait… Hold on, slow down!” His hips bucked and twitched against your lips as you teased his cock. “W-what if… What if someone walks back here and catches us?! Shouldn’t… Shouldn’t we, um, go somewhere private?”

Despite saying that, he looked as if he didn’t want to move at all. In fact, his hands moved over to the back of your head, pushing your face closer to his crotch. He was so hot; so sweaty and needy. His body ached to be touched even more.

Instead of answering him, you grabbed the hem of his boxers and pushed them down, his length springing free from its restraints. Precum was already leaking from the tip.

Ace needed to be sucked off so badly.

With a small wink, you began to tease the head with your tongue, licking it while your hands reached out and massaged the base of his length. Ace nearly stumbled and fell backwards as he used the wall for support.

“O-oh— Oh… Oh fuck…”

A shakey whimper escaped his throat as you went to work on him. God, he was now happier than ever that you showed up to his performance. All those sleepless nights of writing songs for you and practicing them was entirely worth it. You looked so perfect as you gave his body some much-needed love and attention.

“Tastes so good…” You murmured as you put more of him inside your mouth. “Want more.”

Ace’s length was almost too big– but you were willing to take it. Just for him.

And Ace was so happy that you could. He couldn’t help but roll his hips and gently thrust into your mouth.

“Fuck, f-fuck, fuck…”

Ace could barely form a coherent sentence as his body began to melt under your touch. Your mouth was so damn tight; so warm and hot and wet. He bit down on his bottom lip as he tried his hardest to let you have control. But…

But it was too much.

“I– I’m s-sorry– So sorry–!”

Roughly, Ace shifted your all’s positions. Instead of him being pressed against the wall, it was you– but with one his hands, he made sure that your head wouldn’t hit the bricks.

“Please, please… Suck it more, please…” He begged and whined as his pace slowly began to pick up, your saliva dripping down his skin as he pushed himself all the way in and out of your mouth. Over and over again.

His body trembled as his pace randomly switched between fast and slow– rough, then sensual. The entire time he fucked your mouth, he stared down at you with pure adoration and love in his eyes.

“I love you,” he sang as his thick cock abused the back of your throat. Whenever you choked and gagged, he’d slow down, only to immediately pick up his pace again.

“I’ll… I’ll write my next song about you, too! And the next one… And the next… Hahh…”

Ace’s fingers dug into your hair as he grew even rougher, your mouth nearly becoming a fleshlight to him. He couldn’t think straight; you were so fucking sexy, and your mouth felt so good.

You moaned sweetly as he fucked your face even faster, vibrating against his sensitive dick. The more you did it, the closer to the edge he became.

“F-fuck, more! More… Please!” His voice cracked.

“Whatever you do… Don’t… Don’t stop.”

Ace pushed his cock impossibly deep into your throat, your nose pressed firmly up against his glistening body. Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes as the heat of his orgasm was catching up to him. He spread his legs further apart as he sandwiched you between his hips and the wall, one of his hands still providing cushion for your skull.

“P-please, let me cum, and… And I’ll… M-make it up to you later. I promise!”

At this point, he truly was singing– his moans were so sweet and loud. He didn’t care if the two of you got caught anymore. Besides… If someone were to see, then that would just mean everyone knows you belong to him. Right?

Right…

Ace pulled out for a split second before thrusting slower, wanting to enjoy your love and attention for just a little bit longer. With his one free hand, he reached down and lovingly stroked your cheek, smiling widely.

“You’re so, so amazing.”

And with a few more powerful jerks of his hips, he felt himself coming undone inside your throat, lovingly crying out your name all the while. His cock twitched as thick, hot ropes entered your mouth– but Ace didn’t expect you to swallow.

However, when he looked down and watched you do so, his heart stopped in his chest.

You truly were… Perfect.

Ace was quick to pull you up to your feet, catching you off guard as he passionately kissed your lips.

“I– I love you!” He proclaimed loudly. “I… I promise…” He kissed your lips again.

“I promise I’ll return the favor!”

#ace posting #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere #ace being ace #he's a little cute and silly #baby girl even #yandere x you

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vibratingskull · 1 day

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Ok so we all love Thrawn as a dad, but the idea of Thrawn coming back from exile to meet his baby granddaughter is rotting my brain and I need others to see my vision (and if you're taking requests when you get this, I'd love to hear your headcanons/thoughts about it)

Gilf Thrawn for the win! Granddad Thrawn is such a sweet thought tho... I'm melting, the softness, the sweetness, the tenderness... 😭😭😭

Thrawn & Daughter!reader

Tags: tooth rooting fluff, reunion, single dad/granddad!Thrawn, daughter!Reader

Thrawn remains silent, simply observing the house in front of him.

He is sure this is the right address, but he somehow feels tense at the idea of knocking on the door.

So many years have passed. Ten years of complete radio silence while he was exiled. So many things must have changed.

He just hopes his daughter is doing okay. You were a teenager when he disappeared, now you must be an adult, with your life sorted out, you may not want him back...

He raises his hand and presses the doorbell. He is met by silence, only hearing his pounding heart until he hears hurried footsteps behind the door.

“Coming!” A male voice responds.

Did he get the wrong address?

The door slides open to reveal a human male he has never met before.

“What do you... Oh!” The human simply says discovering Thrawn in full Grand Admiral regalia, his eyes rounding up in surprise.

They look into each other eyes in silence for a split second before the human turns towards the inside of the house.

“Thitanu! I think you should come at the door!”

New footsteps can be heard and a human female appears. Thrawn’s heart jumps. You are so grown up now!

You stop dead in your tracks with a shocked expression.

This is you, his daughter, his beloved k’eten, the joy of his heart, his pride.

“...Dad?”

“Ch’eo k’eten.” He responds, incredulous himself.

“...How?”You ask with a white voice like you were observing a ghost from a distant past.

“It will be long to explain everything. Just know that I am back for good, Ch’eo K’eten.”

You raise your hand to your mouth, a broken sob escaping you.

“Re-really?”

“Yes. I am here for you now.” He opens his arms to invite you.

You throw yourself at him. You are taller now and with a mature face, but still as beautiful as in his memories. You hug each other tight, reveling in each other’s presence and warmth.

“Thitanu...” He whispers in his bliss, pressing you against his heart, “(Y/n)”.

It is so good to finally hug his daughter, after so long...

He kisses your forehead, inhaling your scent, sending his heart into a frenzy. Now that he is back he will not let you go! You will need protection in those future confused and violent times and he is perfectly capable of offering it to you.

You will travel with him on his ISD across the universe.

If you refuse to come with him he will make you move to one of his hideouts, where nothing could ever reach you and harm you. Your security is his top priority now!

You part from him suddenly with eyes full of excitation.

“I need you to meet someone urgently!” And you grab his hand and pull him inside in a hurry, so much so that he almost bumps into the human man.

You pull him all the way up the stairs, never letting him go for a second. You giggle and almost fly across the corridors of the house. You reach a door and you press your finger on your lips, ordering him to remain silent.

He nods, curious about that person you so desperately wants him to meet. You slowly opens the door to let him discover... a nursery.

His heart skips a bit, he turns back to you and you smile, absolutely radiant, inviting him to enter. He passes the door gingerly, not making a single sound, not even a breath, like the nursery would evaporate at any moment, and with it all its promises.

The room is colorful, filled to the brim with toys and plushies. He remembers buying some for you when you were still a very little girl. He is glad you kept them with you. He slowly approaches the crib in the middle of the room, holding his breath, full of anticipation.

He slowly discovers a baby, sleeping soundly with a snow bunny in their little fist. He leans forward to observe them closer. They must be between 4 to 6 months old, still tiny and fragile. They have the same skin tone as the human male, but the nose and hair are yours indubitably.

Magnificent... Simply magnificent.

He observes, fascinated, the baby wiggling under their plaid, pressing the plushie against themself. They suddenly stop moving to yawn a big time, opening their mouth in perfect ‘O’, letting out the most adorable sound he ever heard.

“Take her in your arms.” You invite, approaching in his back.

“She is deeply sleeping. I would rather not disturb her.” He refuses.

“Nonsense. She can still sleep in your arms. Go on, take her, I know you want to.”

It’s true, he really wants to hold her in his hands.

But she is so small, and him so big...

What if he hurt her in some way? She looks so fragile, like she was made of thin glass.

“Go on. You will not hurt her, you never hurt me when you held me.” You insist.

He tentatively reaches for the baby, making sure to take her head delicately and support her body correctly.

Warrior, now that she is in his large hands she appears even smaller...

He lifts her slowly and carefully to bring her to his chest. She doesn’t seem to wake up, perfectly at peace. Now that he has her in his arms, reality settles in his mind and heart.

He is a grandpa.

He has a granddaughter.

A legacy.

Another dear one to protect with all his might and power.

He never guessed he would have another family before adopting you when you were only a three-year-old. Grandchildren were a concept so far away, like an impossible dream. And then he got exiled to Peridea, never to see his daughter again.

In his mind, his family would stop with you.

But you kept going, you flourished and pushed through. You found yourself a companion and gave birth to a magnificent baby girl. His family is alive and well against his worst fears...

His family... is safe.

And now he is back.

With you.

Nothing will ever separate him from his family again!

He presses the baby against himself, reverently kissing her forehead like she was a saint figure that came to grace his dark existence.

“What is her name?” He whispers to not disturb the baby’s sleep, eyes fixated on the most beautiful being he ever saw beside you.

“Thisaima.” You smile, caressing your baby’s head.

His heart jolts.

You chose a Chiss name.

To honor him.

Back when he met you on this now far away planet ravaged by war, the only miraculous survivor under your birth house rubbles, he asked you your name and kept it. He always addressed you as Thitanu, your Chiss name, and (Y/n), your birthname, leaving you the choice of your identity.

And today you chose a Chiss name for your daughter.

He is so grateful to you, you are giving him so much!

“What happened when I disappeared?” He asks finally.

“Aunt Karyn took care of me. When you left us both on Coruscant to go to Lothal she stayed at our apartment for a bit. Then we learned your disappearance with the Chimaera. She really stepped up and took responsibility the best she could. She pushed me to get my diploma and helped me find a job. She did her best with me.”

He owes a lot to Karyn Faro and way more than several years of diligent and loyal services it appears.

He looks back at his granddaughter, looking even more precious and fragile now. He cannot lose anyone else again.

He will not allow it.

Not anymore.

He kisses the baby’s forehead again, reveling in the softness of the skin. She giggles in her sleep.

“I am back to protect you both. I will not fail again.”

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar@thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay @obbicrystaleo @germie2037

#thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitth'raw'nuruodo #thrawn x f!reader #thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #fanfic #vibratingskull

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coltermorning · 9 hours

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Of Love and Loss Ch. 15 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You ask something of Arthur that leaves you with a decision to make in return—one that could cost you both.

Author’s Notes: Chapter fifteen of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

Of Love and Loss

Fifteen: The Distraction of Choice

Word count: 5221

You awoke slowly, adjusting to consciousness and the glaring light against your eyelids. When you finally managed to open them, you already knew what you would find—the warmth against your body made it hard not to.

Arthur slept with you, facing you, arm thrown over your middle. His face was so close you debated kissing him. You hadn’t seriously considered doing it since just after the first time, but now it was a hard urge to shake.

The light was softer now as it fell on him, his eyelashes catching it, lit golden by it. His breathing was even and deep. Peaceful for all the hell he normally gave you. And all you could think was that if you kissed him now, maybe there was a chance that peace would remain. Bloom into something you wished he could feel for you.

You imagined it instead as the slightest turn of your mouth formed a smile not just for the way he had picked on you about imagining the very same with that postman but for the way it would feel with Arthur. The softest press of your lips to his, awakening him. His searching eyes as he looked at you, drawing back in surprise. Then acceptance, gentle and simple, as he came forward again and kissed you back. It would be slow this time. The last kiss had gotten away from you, but not this time. This one would be soft, a lazy press of your lips and a blocking out of everything but the two of you in this bed. There would be no expectation, no need for feelings shared or something more. Just a kiss that dragged on, ended, and left the two of you lighter than air. You wanted it so badly you found yourself moving closer to him. Your breathing quickened, and when he was hardly an inch away, difficult to discern the smaller details of this close, you stopped. As lovely as the thought was, it needed to remain that way—just a thought. Hidden within you as all your other deepest desires were, no more than hope tangled up with things long lost.

Arthur’s eyes opened.

Your heartbeat thundered through you as you wondered if you were imagining it, but no, that was really him looking at you, moving his head back when he realized you were so close and staring so deeply.

Neither of you said a word. You were too scared to, but his silence was unusual. He would normally fill the space with some kind of passing humor, but he didn’t. And suddenly the pressing weight of his arm wrapped around you was as telling as anything he could say, as he didn’t move it away. He didn’t back down apart from the slight surprise he had shown. So the pair of you just stared, still tangled together under the blankets.

Precious seconds passed, and then you felt his thumb rubbing back and forth against your side so carefully you were scared to move for fear of him stopping. But still he didn’t shy away, and he didn’t say anything. So you did.

“Why won’t you kiss me again?”

The whispered words were out before you could take them away, and his gaze stayed searching.

“Is that what you want?”

His deep, calm voice this close, that question…

“I thought I made that obvious.” You still could do no more than whisper that confession. Like saying it louder would make it harder to part with.

His eyes dipped to your mouth.

“What do you want?” you asked suddenly, shocked at the attention he was giving you.

His gaze met yours once more, and with it came all those feelings of attraction you’d had toward him before. His handsome face after that haircut, the blue-green starkness of his eyes. His full lips.

“Same as you, I suppose.”

Your heart was racing so fast the pressure of it built high in your chest—anticipation.

“Why don’t you?”

He pondered this, finally stopping those gentle caresses of his thumb. “‘Cause in a few weeks I’ll just end up leaving you. Then we part even more miserable.”

You hadn’t thought that far ahead—couldn’t get past this moment.

“But…” You had to rally your courage to say what you wanted to. “Since we know now, what the other wants…won’t we regret it if we never try?”

He looked to your mouth again. “Probably.”

“So kiss me. It’ll hurt to watch you leave either way.”

The confession surprised him—his eyes widened as they met yours. And with that look, you found the courage to speak. For his sake.

“I’ve grown more fond of you than I cared to admit before. And not just because of what you’re doing for me, taking me all this way. It’s because you’re…kind and smart and amusing. You’re careful with me even when I don’t deserve it. And it’s easier to be myself around you than I ever thought I could be after what happened to my parents.”

He studied you a beat. Then, “You don’t really know me.”

“I do. I know that you only see the worst parts of yourself, but you aren’t just your past, and you aren’t just some undeserving outlaw. Because when no one else would have, you scraped me off the ground and stood me back up. You buried my parents. You’ve taken me all this way. How can you not call that goodness?”

He didn’t have a response to that, averting his gaze.

“It’s why I want you to kiss me. Why I have since the last time you did it. Not because of what you’ve done for me, but because of the man that makes you. One I would be…honored to have the affection of.”

He moved his hand from your side to your hair, catching the horsehair braid between his fingers.

“But would I be doing right by you?” His mouth turned up at the side, the saddest smile you’d ever seen him make. “That’s all I’ve been asking myself this past week. Maybe it’s what I want, but is that really what you need from me?”

It was certainly what you wanted in this moment, lying so close to him. But what you needed?

You needed to be focusing on the uncertain future that lay ahead of you. You needed to be seriously considering that in a few weeks’ time, you would no longer have Arthur. That forward thinking was what your parents had been trying to teach you. But couldn’t you learn all that on your own, after this good thing you had with the man before you came and went? Couldn’t this be the last selfish thing you ever reached out and took for yourself?

Arthur was running his thumb over your braid, admiring it when he sighed, like something had settled within him. “I want you to think on it. If it’s worth it. Because if it means that much to you…” His eyes met yours, soft but brilliant in the light. “It’ll hurt you that much worse in a few weeks time.”

He didn’t say the rest—how much it would hurt him too. But you felt it as he looked so deeply into your eyes you could see, for the first time, every single thing he was feeling. It was the only time he had ever allowed you to see underneath the surface, to the man lying below.

Arthur rose from the bed and turned away before you could stop him. Your words died on your tongue, the moment slipping away. But you owed him at least this much—time to think on it, to do this one, simple thing he asked of you. So you let him get up and get properly dressed, let him give you instructions to leave the door locked after what had happened at the saloon the day before. You barely caught where he was going—the general store—because you were too busy watching him. Just watching, this man who held so much respect for you that he hadn’t done the one thing both of you desired most. All for your honor. You were starting to realize that you were the one who needed to work on that honor, not him. He was as honorable a man as you’d ever known.

Arthur’s mind raced as he walked, heading for the general store, remembering to put one foot in front of the other out of muscle memory alone. He was too busy wondering why he had just left you back in that room. He was a goddamn idiot. The fact you hadn’t told him so suggested he was somewhere along the right track, giving you space to think, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to turn right back around and storm those stairs and kiss you. He had wanted to before, but after all you’d said…

He’d never heard anything like that. From anyone. Even now, he was mixed with guilt and pride over the kindness you’d given him in those words. And it had honestly surprised him. He’d thought all this time, you’d been putting up with him at best. Despite what you said about being obvious in your affections, you had been anything but. And knowing now how much you cared for him…who was he to deny what that could turn into?

Just what that could turn into, Arthur pondered as he stepped inside the small store and found the cigarettes in a passing glance. He took two boxes, then one more, all as his mind turned circles around itself. He set the boxes down on the counter, and the store owner started, “That’ll be-”

“Here,” Arthur interrupted, already handing over the money owed. He didn’t have time for this. He was starting to realize, no matter how much he knew he had been right in doing it, that leaving you in that hotel was costing him precious time. So he paid and stashed the cigarettes in his satchel and was walking out the door just as another man tried walking into it, nearly running square into him in the process.

“Watch it,” Arthur snapped, his words filled with enough warning that the man jumped out of his way and let him pass. Arthur eyed him from his shiny boots to his equally shiny deputy badge and silently cursed himself a fool. But the deputy didn’t say a word, so Arthur moved on, his mind remaining elsewhere.

The walk back took entirely too long. What if you changed your mind? You hadn’t stopped him leaving before, so who was to say his words hadn’t changed your mind already? He hadn’t wanted to seem disagreeable in his answer, but looking at you after you had laid your thoughts so bare for him left nothing for him to say but the truth. It wasn’t a denial, he reminded himself. He hadn’t told you no. He’d as good as said he would do anything you asked of him. He just hoped you would keep on asking.

Arthur was so distracted that by the time he reached the street across from the hotel, he noticed someone following him that he should have noticed three blocks ago—the same man he had nearly run over in front of the store. It couldn’t have been a coincidence. This back street was out of the way and nearly across town. Arthur normally would have confronted the man, but that deputy badge on his chest didn’t sit right. He could just be upset over Arthur making him cower earlier, but Arthur had a feeling it had to do with his little jaunt to the saloon yesterday, with that idiot he had run into with more grease than gall.

Knowing whatever the reason, the man hadn’t yet confronted him and seemed to be staking him out instead, so Arthur turned left and away from the hotel. He wasn’t about to lead a deputy right to your door. He backtracked and took another sharp left into an alleyway, picking up his pace. He knew he could lose the man in the crowded town, but he needed a plan in the meantime. Any attention from the law was unwanted attention, so he thought of a way to get you out of that hotel and to the stable unnoticed. You had both overstayed your welcome. It was time to leave, time to get you home, time to push all thought of that kiss into the next town over lest he end up in worse shit than he already was.

Hours later than he should have been back, Arthur sprang through the door and locked it behind him, immediately rounding on you.

“Get up.”

You did so without hesitation. “What’s wrong?”

He crossed the space in a moment, taking your chair and setting it by the door. He sat in it, leaning forward so that he could hear any disturbance in the hallway outside.

“Arthur?”

He shushed you, the sound taking any further word from your mouth. What had gone wrong? You thought of what the bartender had said in that saloon about the new marshal and his brother. Had Arthur run into them?

You moved to stand beside Arthur, looking at him with questioning eyes instead. He finally met your gaze from under the brim of his hat, holding his finger to his mouth for you to keep quiet. You nodded, and he whispered in answer so low you could hardly hear him. “Ran into the law on the way back. Think I lost them, but I can’t be too sure.”

Damn. You two needed to get out of town. Now. You had come this far and wouldn’t get caught up here like you almost had in the last town.

“Let’s wait for night and leave then,” you whispered just as lowly.

Arthur shook his head. “Safer here. They’ll have to knock on every door to find us. We’ll have fair warning.” He nodded across the room, and you followed his gaze to the window—an escape, if necessary. The thought made you clam up with fear. Maybe they wouldn’t find you, and it wouldn’t come to that.

“What happened?”

He wouldn’t meet your eye, just kept leaning toward the door like it would spring open any second. “Nothing.”

You didn’t believe that in the slightest. “Arthur-”

“Hush,” he hissed. Then, even quieter, “They was tailing me. First one deputy, then two. This has to be about that Lawrence feller.”

Indeed. The barman had been right.

Needing to siphon off some of your restless energy, half of it pertaining to the newfound danger, half of it for what you had decided to tell Arthur when he returned, you went back to the bed and gathered your things together. All that amounted to was your clothes you had yet to put back on, but it was better to be prepared if you had to make a run for it. With that thought in mind, you eyed said clothes. You were more comfortable in them, more familiar with them, and if you got in a tight, you knew it would be better to have your clothes on than Arthur’s. Especially since George Lawrence and that whole saloon had seen you in the latter. So, with nerves returning, you said without looking at Arthur, “I’m changing my clothes. Don’t turn around.”

He didn’t answer with much besides a muttered, “Stay quiet,” so you got on with it.

You hadn’t realized how much you appreciated proper-fitting garments until yours were back on. You felt at ease, like this threat was just another hill to climb. And when you looked to Arthur, you found a new bout of confidence flowing through you that you hadn’t felt before. You grinned. Maybe that kiss wouldn’t be so far off after all.

When all was in order from your boots to your hat, you took Arthur’s newly folded clothes to him. “Here.”

He looked around, his eyes catching on you for a breath before he took his clothes back and stuffed them away.

“Thank you for letting me borrow them.”

“No problem,” he muttered, going back to staring at the door. Utterly unfocused on you. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about kissing him. He would probably shove you off of him if you tried, too concerned about the goings-on on the opposite side of the door. So you let out a small sigh as your confidence cooled and turned toward the bed again, landing on it to wait for the threat to pass. You pulled out your father’s ledger in the meantime, opening it to a random page. It normally would have sucked you in with your father’s familiar scrawl, but the figures blurred, all of your concentration remaining with the man across the room.

After many minutes like this passed in silence, Arthur finally seemed to be satisfied that no one had followed him in, as he rose and stuck the chairback beneath the doorknob. He wasted no time in getting a new cigarette out of his satchel and lighting it.

You tossed the ledger aside and smirked at the sight of him smoking so soon. He caught it.

“What?”

“I know why you smoke now,” you said, leaning back on your hands.

“Don’t have to have a reason-”

“You smoke when you’re nervous.”

Arthur scoffed and tried to wave this off, but you pushed. “You said before you don’t get scared anymore, but I know you get nervous. And you smoke to ease those nerves.”

His eyes went distant, and he had no retort, so you knew you had it right. Whether it be about concern for this trip or nerves over things you brought up to him, he had done it since the beginning.

“I got a lot on my mind,” he muttered. “What, between you and this trip and all those folks I left behind…”

You could understand a man like him being worried over lawmen chasing him down, but his words made his priorities clear to be anything but his own well-being. All he ever seemed to worry about was the safety of those around him, even when his neck was on the line. You wondered why. What had happened to make him like this—so nervous about protecting those around him that he was downright self-destructive, couldn’t stand to be with his own thoughts about it without a cigarette in his hand? You recognized it for what it was the same moment you tried to compare it to your own circumstances—losing someone did that to a person.

You studied him a beat as he stood there smoking, making up your mind. It was your turn to stick your neck out.

You patted the bed beside you. “Sit.”

“Why?”

“Just come sit down, stubborn.”

He crossed the room slowly, already putting out his cigarette. The bed creaked with his weight as he sat, just as your chest seemed to tighten at his closeness. But you pushed your own nerves aside to say your piece, unsure if he needed your help but knowing you would regret it if you never said a word.

“You lost someone didn’t you?”

The words hung there. He looked to his boots, his hands coming together as he leaned forward—a man in defeat.

“I’ve lost a lot of people.”

“I figured.”

You wanted him to take the lead, to say only what he was comfortable with. Your response would form from his, from what he needed from you.

He finally looked to the window, letting out a long, tired breath.

“My son among them.”

You were so stunned you could only stare at him. He looked to you, such sadness in his eyes you couldn’t stand it, but he soon went back to staring at his hands.

“He was a good kid. Too good for having the likes of me as a father. But he…got killed in a house robbery when I weren’t there. I should have been there, for him and his mother. She passed too.”

“I’m so sorry, Arthur.”

“Me too.”

You couldn’t think of a thing to say to comfort him. You knew how meaningless words felt when the only thing that could make hurt like that go away was if it had never happened at all. But he had come this far, had wanted to help people ever since and be better because of it. So maybe there was something to be said for all the hardship.

“I know how painful it is to lose someone. I mean, obviously I do, but…it doesn’t go away. And I’m just-” You looked at him then, meeting those sad eyes when they rose to yours. “I’m proud to see who you’ve become in spite of that. To have proof that we can get through these things and come out better on the other side.”

His gaze turned bitter. “If I’d been better from the start, it would never have happened.”

Those words cut into you like ice. Because if you’d been better from the start, listened to your parents, you never would have had need for this trip. They would still be alive.

“Maybe,” was all you could say. It was your turn to let your gaze fall to your hands, distracted by thoughts too heavy to see through.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he muttered, like he realized then how much you could relate to him. Of all the outrageous things, you smiled. He saw it. “What’s that look for?”

You shook your head, leaning over onto his shoulder and looking out the window. “I’m just glad it was you who found me. So we can be miserable together.”

He huffed a laugh. “Sure.”

It wouldn’t be much longer now with him. Not long at all. This was not the time for regrets, not when you and Arthur had so many they were liable to swallow you both. So you continued to lean against him as you said, “Thank you for telling me.” And, feeling the weight of loss and the overwhelming sense of love that came with it, “And I’ve made up my mind.”

Arthur shifted beside you, but you couldn’t look at him now. Not when you were dangerously close to feeling something for him that would be unbearable to lose in a few short weeks.

“About what?” he said.

He knew what. You knew he knew what. But you said it anyway, because there wasn’t enough time in an entire lifetime powerful enough to hold it in.

“I want you to kiss me.”

“Now?”

Your heartbeat pounded through you. You nodded against him, still unable to look at him.

He scoffed. “You would wait ‘til we’re wanted by the law.”

You pushed against him, finally meeting his eye. “Until you are,” you corrected.

He cracked a grin. “I didn’t know any better, and I’d think you had a thing for wanted men.”

“Not wanted men.”

“You sure about that?”

His smile was killer, and you were staring straight at his mouth when you felt that same confidence from before and said, “Just you.”

Arthur’s expression filtered through emotions so fast you could hardly keep up, but he finally landed on one you understood. Because you’d seen it before, just once: the last time he kissed you.

Want.

“One condition,” he said, voice suddenly shot so low it made your stomach tighten in anticipation.

You didn’t answer, waiting. Watching that gaze of his and all it meant. Memorizing it.

“Tell me your name.” His eyes remained heavy-lidded, full of desire. And as tempting as that look was, it wasn’t what made you want to hand over this last piece of yourself. It wasn’t his handsomeness or the want that burned within you. It wasn’t even the words you had just traded, baring all your hurt to each other. It was the knowledge that your name was something your parents had given to you, and you hadn’t doled it out before because no one on earth meant as much to you as they had. But now, there was someone who did. And why deny him a moment longer when you’d already asked everything of him?

You looked into Arthur’s eyes and felt a smile reach your mouth. “Y/N.”

After all this time, it felt good to say it. Like you’d found yourself once more. And it felt even better when Arthur’s gaze turned into one of admiration, when he repeated your name back to you on a breath so fond your heart seized up with it.

You nodded.

Before he or you could think better of it, he was pulling off your hats, his hands reaching for your face and dragging you to him, meeting your lips in a kiss both soft and loving, needy and sure. Sure as you were that this was right.

It started gentle, just as you imagined it would this morning. Then your desire got the better of you. Still kissing him, you turned and brought your legs underneath you on the bed, facing him, taking his head in your hands. You didn’t have a clue what you were doing, only that this felt more right than anything ever had.

Arthur pulled back to look at you. You were both breathing heavy, holding each other, still so full of want that he smiled, and you smiled right back, and he leaned over you and took you down to the bed, kissing you again. His strong hand came down beside you, holding him above you, but his other found your head and tilted it back. Gave him a better angle for his mouth to meet yours. Then you felt his tongue just as you had the last time, and it was a heat that burned through you hotter than anything ever had. Your hands wrapped around that broad, muscled back of his and brought him closer. So close there was no more space between you. His heavy body atop yours was aiding in that pressure that built within you, and all you could do about it was kiss him harder, over and over, meeting his tongue and nearly shivering with desire for the way he used it. Christ, you could learn a thing or two from this man. In the meantime, you could only bask in this. How perfect it was to be with him like this. It was what you had been missing before, you realized—not affection or anything of the sort, but life, full and lived in. Not tucked away in some mountain valley, never to see or feel or experience something for yourself. If this was what life held for you, you would gladly choose it. Again and again and again. And that was exactly what you did as the minutes ticked by.

The two of you parted, talked, brought it back up, kissed again. Enough of this, and you found yourself on top of the man, more courageous than you ever thought you would be. But there were no longer nerves in you, or if there were, they existed for an entirely different reason. Now they just urged you to keep kissing him, to let the moment last as long as you could. Because these days with him were fleeting. You would hold onto this happiness with every fiber of your being while you still had the privilege.

What must have been an hour went by. Then another. Filled with conversation and his warm, irresistible mouth.

Just as you found yourself smiling like an idiot at another terrible joke of his, oblivious to anything but him, a fist beat on the door so hard it startled you and Arthur apart. The force of the knocking shook the door and the chair still stuck under the knob, making an awful rattling sound that filled you with dread and stole away whatever joy you had.

“This is Deputy Foreman of Plainview Law Enforcement. Come out unarmed!”

And just like that, any hope that this trip had turned for the better shattered. Fear flooded you, cold and unending, and all you could do was look to Arthur. He cursed and scrambled from the bed, stuffing his hat back on his head and throwing you yours.

“I need you to trust me,” he whispered so quietly you had to strain to hear. “Do exactly as I say.”

You just stared at him, startling again when that same fist beat on the door a second time.

“Get up,” Arthur whispered. “They can’t know you was here.”

“Arthur-”

“Now,” he said with such quiet force that you were reminded of the outlaw you met out in the woods among those two thieving men—an enforcer. A killer.

You stood and set your hat on your head, snatching up your father’s ledger and tucking it away.

“Here,” Arthur whispered, already beside you, holding out his satchel and his gun belt with his gun still tucked inside it.

You stopped and balked at him. “I can’t-”

“Come out now, or I will take this door down! Don’t make me ask again!” The unfamiliar voice had you crawling back inside yourself in terror. But there was no time for that, no time to wonder why the deputy was here, how he had found you, what it meant that Arthur was giving you his belongings…

Arthur strapped his gun belt around your waist himself in a fervor, yelling in response, “All right, I’m coming! Pipe down with that, would you?”

The door just rattled with more fistbeats in response as Arthur tossed his satchel over you. He stopped and looked you square in the eye, voice staying low. “I don’t know what they think they have on me, but I don’t want you getting tangled up in whatever it is, so you’re gonna go out that window and drop down to the stairs below. Go get your mule, and get out of dodge. You understand?”

How he was this quick on his feet under such stressful circumstances, you couldn’t understand, nor could you get past your own worry enough to do as he said.

“I’m not leaving you-”

He practically shoved you toward the window and whispered his reply. “Go. Now.”

You stared at him a heartbeat longer, not wanting this all to end so soon, before he turned and made for the chair under the knob. As it stood, if you were going to escape, you had seconds to do it. You patted your chest to make sure your father’s ledger was tucked away, took one last look at Arthur’s retreating back, then made for the window. It was the only thing you knew to do. You would be absolutely no help to him captured right alongside him.

You had the window shoved open and were judging the drop when Arthur started arguing with the deputy on the other side of the door. “Let me get my damn clothes on. Christ.” He motioned at you to go, and all you could do was get one last look at him, at the room where you had both given over so much of each other, before you stuck your feet out the window and fell.

_________

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sunnasweet · 13 hours

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Ophelia and The Orc

writer's block has been hitting me hard and i kind of forgot i created this tumblr but thank you everyone for the comments, reblogs and likes they honestly make me feel like im doing something right <3

Literotica summary: Ophelia gets eaten by an orc

Critiques are very much appreciated

2.8k , orc x female reader

Ophelia watches with big round eyes, her stomach twists and her cheeks heat at the offensive sight. Betsy was a good woman, a good wife and yet here she was on her hands and knees being…savaged by an orc.

She felt sick–betrayed. How could Betsy do this to her husband? To herself? She had children for god’s sake!

The sick sounds of her vulgar moans filled Ophelia’s ears as she watched her breasts sway from being pummeled into so viciously. Poor innocent Ophelia was aghast, she couldn’t possibly understand why anyone would want to be victimized in such a way. To get pleasure from it. It was…sinful!

Just before she could run off, she suddenly was grasped about the waist–a hand covering her mouth when she shrieked in muffled surprise and terror.

“Mmph!” she struggled against her attacker but it–no–he was far too strong. She looked up, the back of her head hitting the creature’s chest. An orc. A real one. Right in front of her face. Touching her.

It–he, smiled at her. Ophelia mistook it for baring his large sharp teeth at her. She stared at his pointed tusks in horror. She struggled further and he chuckled.

“Easy.” he rumbled, low and dark.

He was huge–bulky and big. Everything about him screamed inhuman. His green skin. Pierced pointed ears and black eyes. Ophelia felt faint.

Betsy let out another groan from behind the two of them and the orc’s ears twitched. He looked over at the sight and a small grunt escaped his lips, he looked back down at Ophelia. “Are you next?” he asks slightly smirking.

Ophelia’s eyes widened even further, practically bulging out of her sockets. She shook her head furiously.

“Hm..” he hummed, removed his hand from her mouth then stroked her bottom lip with his thumb. “Shame.”

She gulps. Shame?

Ophelia looks the orc up and down once again. She really looked at him and…there was a certain attractiveness about this orc. His strong jaw, sharp nose, and strong brow–it was all an approximation of a human man. He was just so…masculine, everything about him screamed male, and that both captivated and repulsed Ophelia.

There was also the fact that he was well-groomed. Which shocked her. She had been told all her life that orcs were dirty senseless animals that only knew violence. But here she was, safe and sound (at least he hadn’t proved to be violent yet) next to an orc that smelled like pine. Her cheeks flushed pink.

The orc seemed to know exactly what Ophelia was thinking because his smile grew wider and he cupped her chin–Ophelia’s lip quivered.

“Are you sure?” he murmurs, “Aren’t you curious, small one?” he baited–knowing full well that of course Ophelia was curious. Not about that–well, okay, not just about that. But it was a little hard not to think of that when she could still hear the dirty sounds echoing through the forest. They were getting louder, she could hear the orc that Betsy was with starting to make his own perverted noises.

“I-I…” she shook her head, “No…I…” her mouth felt like it was full of cotton. She was so overwhelmed with what was going on in front of her and what was going on behind her.

Her lack of answer didn’t seem to deter the orc but fueled him further as he moved closer into her space. Backing her up against a tree. “No?” he mocked gently, “You lie, badly,” he murmured, leaning downwards and Ophelia thought for a moment he was going to kiss her but instead he lowered his head down and traced his nose against her jaw, inhaling deeply then letting out another rumble deep from his chest.

He was smelling her. Not only that but she jumped when she felt the wet warmth of his tongue follow after. Tasting her skin, she shuddered. Was he going to eat her?

The orc began to nibble slightly on her ear lobe and Ophelia squeaked in alarm, “Please don’t eat me!”

He pulled back quickly, looking at her face–seemingly searching her eyes to see if she was being serious. She was. He chuckled heartily, seemingly uncaring about the fact that there was a copulating couple just a few feet away from them.

“Eat you?” he asked, “Why would I do that?” his words seemed genuine but then again there was a certain hunger in his eye that made Ophelia nervous. Then there was the bit about licking her and the sniffing and…it was all making her rather flushed, her thighs rubbed together under her nightdress and she felt a strange wetness.

“Stop it.” she whimpers. “You’re an orc.”

“I am.”

“Orcs eat people.”

He raises a brow, “people?”

“Women. They go missing and then…” She looks at him expectantly, and then Ophelia hears another guttural moan from behind and her nose crinkles. The orc laughs smoothly. “Why are you even here?” she asks accusingly. Was he planning to do that to Betsy too? Were they going to take turns? She shudders at the idea.

He shrugs. “Keeping watch.”

“Keeping watch?” she says in disgust, “You’re voyeurs?” he looks amused but shakes his head.

“Some orcs are, but I’m keeping watch for soldiers.”

“Why would you do that?” What business would a soldier have here? They didn’t seek out orcs, they protected the village.

His face darkens slightly but he shrugs, “It is not safe. There is danger.” Ophelia scoffed. Of course, there was danger. He was the danger. She turns her face away from his but that dark look fades from his face back into an easy smile and he forces her to look at him with a gentle hand. “Why are you out here?” he asks in return. “Are you a voyeur?”

Ophelia’s face heats. “No!” she huffs, “I’m…I just…saw..I was making sure…I..” her words trip up and she looks at him guiltily. “It’s like you said, there’s danger in these woods. I wanted to make sure Betsy–” moans, and Ophelia scowls. “I just wanted to make sure she was alright.” she nudges her chin in Betsy’s direction.

“I’d say she’s more than alright.” the orc smirks.

She gasps, “You’re perverse!”

“Yes.” He smiles, “But you like that,” he rumbles, getting even closer to her space. “You smell delicious,” The orc says and Ophelia shudders. “You smell aroused.”

“W-well I’m not.” she holds her hand out, a gesture for him not to come any closer but he doesn’t listen. She shivers again when he palm touches his muscular chest. He grins down at her. “I’m engaged,” she says, and he gently grasps her wrist which makes her bite her lip at the feeling of his warmth seeping into her skin.

He kisses her fingertips, then, sucks down on one of her fingers. Ophelia watches with a dropped mouth as he removes her engagement ring, swallowing it.

“Not anymore,” he says raspily.

“You can’t just–!” she gapes at the orc. What would she tell Michael? How would she ever explain losing her engagement ring? “Why did you do that!” she asks furiously. Though the orc didn’t seem phased by her anger at all, in fact, he seemed amused by it – if the twitch of the corner of his mouth was anything to go by.

Suddenly, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling them chest to chest. Ophelia gasped in outrage but the orc just smiled at her. “I can do whatever I want.” he purrs, “this is my forest, small one.”

Ophelia’s cheeks heat and her heart races as the orc begins to massage her hips.

“S-stop it!” she demands, trying to pull away but stuck within his grasp. “You fiend!” she hisses.

“Come with me…” the orc offers, “and I will show you a pleasure you have never felt before.” he coaxed. The offer disgusted Ophelia. She would never! She was a good girl. A godly woman and soon-to-be wife! The only man she belonged to was Michael and she wouldn’t let an orc spoil her body before her wedding or ever for that matter.

But as he crowded against her and took her chin gently between his fingers… Ophelia felt a heat build in her belly.

“No…” she whispered, “No.”

“Shh…” the orc hushed, murmuring in her ear. “Relax.”

His face came closer and closer to hers–his lips, hovering just over her own.

“Stop,” she begged.

So gently, he grazed his lips over Ophelia’s and she whimpered. Her legs going weak. She stupidly chased after his mouth as he pulled back and that was when the Orc had known he’d won.

“Stupid orc…” she murmurs, “You’re a no good…no good..” The curse came out of her mouth almost inaudibly and the orc only chuckled in response.

“Garrek.”

“What?”

“That’s my name small one, Garrek. Can you repeat it for me.” he coaxed. Her eyes flitted up to his and she repeated his name quietly which made him smile. “Now, tell me your name.”

“Ophelia.”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

She scowled, “Do you say that to all the human women you seduce?”

“I don’t know.” he spoke with a smile, “You’re my first human.”

That shouldn’t have meant something to Ophelia but it did. It made her think she was special. Maybe this was something more than cruel seduction on his part.

The orc–Garrek, led Ophelia away from the tree–away from the coupling duo and brought her to an alcove, a small cave that Ophelia wordlessly entered. Garrek’s hand rested on her lower back and he guided her to some furs on the ground.

“Sit,” he murmured, and she did so obediently.

Once they were on the ground, Garrek pulled Ophelia into his lap and he smiled down at her with his sharp menacing teeth.

His large hands cupped her cheeks, thumbs rubbing her blushing flesh. Ophelia squirmed slightly which only seemed to make Garrek’s smile broaden. Sitting like this, with him caressing her, Ophelia was slowly relaxing against her better judgment.

“Why…why me?” she asks quietly, “Am I really the first human woman you’ve ever tried to…seduce?”

“Yes.” he replies, then shrugs, “Why not you? You’re here…and you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning in slightly. She sighs and he leans even closer. “Will you kiss me?”

“I…” she whispers, eyes darting to his lips. They looked…soft. And green. She had to remind herself. She sniffed, looking away.

He took her chin gently and turned her face, Ophelia’s breathing stopped and she was so close to kissing him. If she so much as breathed, their lips would graze against each other. Her traitorous eyes fluttered closed on instinct.

“Just do it…” she whispered. Waiting. Wanting.

Garrek’s lips touched hers with no further warning and she was damned.

He felt warm to the touch, his lips slotting perfectly with hers. At first just a gentle peck and then a longer drawn-out moment. His tongue flicked out against her bottom lip and she gasped. Wrapping her arms around his thick neck, she kissed him back.

His hands trailed down her back to squeeze her hips. Slowly, he laid her down on her back. His lips moved from her mouth to her jaw, sucking gently on the skin.

“Mm..”

Ophelia had never been kissed like this before, not by anyone–certainly not by her fiance. She couldn’t believe she was letting someone who wasn’t Michael kiss her. How would she ever be forgiven for this…not that she planned to tell Michael. Gods no. Never. She would die before actually confessing that she was letting an orc touch her!

Garrek’s lips moved from her jaw to her throat, licking down the column of her neck.

“Don’t eat me,” she warned, breathless and he laughed. “Ah–!” He ripped her shift open by the neckline, revealing her breasts. “What are you doing–?” she gasped once more, feeling his hot mouth on her hardened nipple.

His hand squeezed her other breast, covering the entire thing with his palm. “Don’t worry. I won’t eat you…” he rumbled, lifting his head from her breast, “at least not in the way you’re thinking.”

What?

Before she could think too much about that, the orc ripped the rest of her shift off with one long tear. Ophelia yelped in surprise, clutching at the fabric but her hands were quickly pinned above her head by Garrek. He smiled down at her and she gulped.

“Stay here,” he murmured, then let her hands go to graze the sides of her body which made her shiver. He kissed down her throat, down the valley of her breasts, and down her stomach until he was face to face with the junction of her spread-open thighs. He licked his lips and Ophelia’s stomach dropped.

“Oh no!” Ophelia cried, “Don’t put your mouth there, i-it’s dirty!” the orc didn’t listen, if anything he seemed more enthused by the way he grasped the back of her thighs and held her open, spreading Ophelia wider. Ophelia groaned in embarrassment and closed her eyes as she bit into the palm of her hand.

“You seem well bathed to me.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she whispers.

“Well…” he rumbles, then licks a stripe up her slit–the two of them groan, both in pleasure. Ophelia stares at the orc with her eyes now peeled open, breath coming in pants as he repeats the action. Letting loose another rumble of pleasure, Ophelia whimpers in both confusion and pleasure.

Garrek buries his face between her legs and Ophelia yelps, “Oh! W-wait!” she cries. He doesn’t. Her head falls back against the furs and she moans, her legs stiffening. “Ohhh…” her eyes squeeze back shut and her hips reflexively roll against his mouth.

“Good.” he purrs.

“Garrek!” she squeals when he sucks on a particular spot that has her keening.

Ophelia’s fists clench, and she clutches the furs, ripping at them while she lurches to a sitting position as Garrek continues to use his mouth on her…pussy. Yes, she could recall that word being used by Michael once or twice. When he was trying to seduce Ophelia into pre-marital actions. She had refused then…but now…

Now she was in a cave, naked, splayed out on the ground underneath an orc.

Garrek groaned between Ophelia’s thighs, his wide tongue touching every part of her intimate area. She whimpered and bucked.

Ophelia was no better than Betsy. She was engaged and yet here she was laying on the ground moaning like a wanton whore being spoiled by an orc. But she liked it. She liked the pleasure he was giving her and she wasn’t completely sure it was just the pleasure. This orc–Garrek, had been charming.

The tip of Garrek’s thick finger began to inch its way into Ophelia’s cunt and her eyes went wide.

“Oh!” she whined, her hips shifting.

He growled from between her thighs, “You’re going to be taking a lot more than this later…”

Ophelia’s pussy pulsed around the intruding digit, opening and tolerating more to slide in before clenching around it and moaning.

Everything was becoming too much and she could feel a strange tightness building in her abdomen. Something felt…off–not wrong, no, this was too good to be wrong but something was coming and she felt as if she couldn’t stop it even if she wanted to.

“I feel…” she gasped, Garrek’s finger curled inside her. “I-I feel–!” Before she could finish her sentence, her mouth dropped open as a burst of pleasure shot through her. Intense and all at once, wave after wave of ecstasy as she fluttered around the orc’s thick finger. “Garrek!” she cried once more, humping his face and hand.

Gods.

Eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenching, Ophelia let out a long whine as she sobbed out her orgasm.

She collapsed onto the furs the moment the pleasure dissipated and her eyes went heavy as Garrek lapped at her folds slowly, the occasional lick making her twitch and shiver.

“Mm..” she hummed, her hand pushing at his shoulder to get his mouth away from her sensitive cunt. “Enough.” she rasped.

Garrek chuckled between her legs, eying her, “For now.” he warned. Pulling away, he laid down beside her with a satisfied sigh. Licking his lips he traced his thumb over her cheek. “There’s much more I want to show you,” he says.

She shivered, that familiar warmth pooling once again in her belly.

“You can’t have my virginity,” she said in tired sternness. “That’s…that’s for my husband.”

“Hm.”

“I’m engaged.” she reminded him.

“Not anymore,” he said back. “I swallowed your ring, remember?”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not engaged.”

He cracks a smile, “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you go on back home now that I’ve had a taste of you?”

What? Of course she did!

Garrek wrapped an arm around Ophelia and pulled her close. He laid a possessive hand on her hip and gave it a gentle pat. “I intend to keep you for myself…” he rumbled, “You’re all mine now small one, all mine.”

#orc x reader #orc x human #monster fucker #monster romance #monster x female reader #monster x human #monster x reader #monster smut

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— the angel who lived. ft sunday

— warnings: f!reader (referred to as mother) but still uses "you/they" pronouns, angst, mentions and themes of death, brief mentions of blood, very lengthy/word vomit (~8k words), nor proofread that much so apologies for any grammatical errors

— author's note: this is more of a character study on sunday and how i think he'll come to learn that escapism isn't really the way go about things but overall, i'm really happy with how this turned out. i hope you guys enjoy :p

death doesn't have a requirement. regardless of age, gender, or race, it will eventually reach everyone at the right moment.

sunday has always remembered the words - or rather the rumors the dreamchasers spoke of - that when death comes knocking at their door, they'll be clad in purple and a trusty crow perched on their shoulder for a companion. sunday wasn't the type of man to believe such rumors, but now, after waking up from what seemed to be an endless dream, he was forced to believe their words.

“can the angel walk?” you spoke. emphasizing the way you called him angel made sunday furrowed his brows in contempt. you were mocking him. with a huff of his breath, he slowly rose from his position and walked with you.

“where are we?” he asks. you looked at him from the corner of your eyes before replying. “death's waiting room.” sunday felt his blood run cold. “you'll be staying here with me and the rest until your time is up.” he wanted to question you more. press you for answers on when and where death will take him.

but he never had the chance to. not when children of all ages came rushing towards you, all with bright smiles on their faces. he stood in shock, mind boggled at the thought. they were hugging death. did they not feel any ounce of fear?

one of the many children that surrounds you took notice of his presence. she had long brown hair kept in two low pigtails and bright green eyes that remind him of the garden he and robin used to play in when they were just their age. she waved him over and you urged him to walk up the steps of the giant house that stood in front of him.

“you'll be staying here with us until your time runs out. do be an angel and help me around with the chores, alright?”

and so for an indefinite amount of time — and against his will — helped you around the “orphanage”.

the younger children were all unruly and liked to cause trouble. every morning he'd wake up to a young child jumping on his bed and would be subsequently dragged into his bathroom to get ready. they'd tug at his hand with an iron grip - it really wasn't, sunday could easily pry his hand away but choose not to hurt the child’s feelings - leading him to the main kitchen where you and one of the oldest girls, elenaor he learned, cooked everyone breakfast.

“woke up on the wrong side of the bed, i presume?” your voice laced with amusement made sunday sigh. putting on the apron elanaor had given him, he reluctantly stood by your side and waited for you to hand him a few ingredients to chop. “it was more of woken up by a gremlin and getting dragged all the way here.” your and elanaor’s snickers of amusement never failed to make heat rise up to his cheeks. he had to fight the urge to hide behind his wings, if he did, you'll tease him relentlessly. this wasn't how he would normally act under any circumstances. he had a reputation to keep, but here, in what you call “death's waiting room”, no one knew him. so he was free to act how he wished.

“you've been here for a while,” turning off the tap, you pat your hands dry and walk towards a pot on the opposite side of where he was. “you'll get used to it.”

“i don't think seeing “death” act like a mother towards soon to be dead children is something i’ll ever get used to.”

the halovian bit his tongue the moment his words stumbled out of his mouth. he could still hear you moving around the kitchen but you had made no effort to respond. sunday was ready to issue an apology but you had beat him to it.

“it's something i’ve never really gotten used to.” the sound of chopping ceased from his station. the sound of water boiling echoed between the two of you - he hadn't realized that elanaor had left to escape the tense atmosphere - he turned to stare at your back, watching you dutifully stir the pot. something that reminded him of his mother. he wonders then, did you also take his mother here to this very orphanage. did she also chop ingredients as you stirred soup?

“i find that quite hard to believe…” his voice is uncharacteristically quiet and unsure. so unlike the voice of the head of the oak family.

you turn to him with a raised brow. “and why is that?” he walks to your station, chopped vegetables in his hand as he dumped them into the pots before putting the lid back on. “you look at home here. is this your home, death?”

you close your eyes and smile. “for a while, yes, yes it is.”

sunday didn't question you further. the two of you quietly set the plates on the multiple tables in the dining room. he would often take glances at you, soaking in the black off shoulder top you wore under that frilly apron; the long muted purple skirt that swayed with your movement like it was your dance partner for years; and the most eye catching of them all, the black gloves you never took off. all of the sudden, sunday remembered this one particular rumor about you.

“they say before death became death, they carried life in their steps; but their fingertips eventually caused everything they touched to wither away.”

sunday wonders if that particular rumor is actually true.

elanaor came back with wary eyes flickering between him and you. with a small smile from you, the girl started taking the utensils from the cabinet and started laying them on either side of the plates. sunday will never get used to this almost domestic scene unfolding in front of him.

“breakfast is ready!” you cup your hand beside your lips as your voice echoed throughout the house. it wasn't long before little feet dragged against the wooden floor and started to pile in the dining room. “be sure to wash your hands first.” your gentle reminder was met with a chorus of ‘we remember!’.

sunday stood idly in one of the corners, hands crossed over his chest as he started to remind himself of the next chores he'd be doing. sighing to himself, he pushed through his messy hair as his wings fluttered. without another word, he left the dining room and made his way to the backyard where there were piles of wet clothes waiting to be hung dry.

“oh! good morning, mr. sunday!” said a young boy with blonde hair and matching blue eye - the other covered with a black eye patch. “good morning, louis.” he replied with a smile before starting to take a few pieces of clothing and helping the boy with his chores.

“breakfast is ready,” sunday reminded. “i’ll take it from here.” louis shook his head and continued his actions. the older man didn't bother to urge him to get breakfast further. if there was one thing he learned by being here, it's that the children had adopted your stubborn and independent nature.

after hanging all the clothes, sunday bid louis to get breakfast - scolding him for trying to skip eating - and quietly made his way back to his room and plopping rather ungraciously on his bed with a sigh. his arm came to cover his eyes as he pondered, “when will death come to me?”

“not now, that's for sure.”

sunday quickly sat up from his position to see you come inside his room, a tray with plated food in your hands.

“it's rather rude to enter someone's room without knocking first.” he barked. you only rolled your eyes at him and placed the tray on the small table in the middle of his room. “i did, but the angel seemed too lost in his thoughts to notice.”

“be sure to finish everything. once your finished, bring them downstairs so i can clean them.”

and without another word, you exited his room. sunday sighed for the nth time today and made his way to the table, pulling a nearby chair and said his prayers before digging in.

he didn't want to admit it, but you were a good cook. every dish that you served him tasted like home; as if you had dug around his mind to take all of his nostalgic feelings and poured them all in the soup he was eating now. for “death's waiting room” it was ironically peaceful. sure the children would get into scuffles here and there, but without a fail, you'd come just in the nick of time and quell the burning banters.

but today you seemed distracted. sunday was an observant person by nature; he reads through people's emotion by the frequency they create and interpret them through the halo behind his head. recently, your usual soft yet peculiar frequency was replaced by something erratic; something that couldn't sit still. in the back of his mind, sunday wonders if it's related to the crow that's been following you like a shadow recently.

taking the tray in his hands, he made his way back downstairs to help you wash the dishes. on the way the children greeted him with bright smiles as they haul one another to play in your reading room, eager to pick out the bedtime story he or you would read later tonight despite it not being even noon. sunday didn't fight the small smile that crept up his face as some of the older kids tried to take the tray away from his hands, urging him to rest while they wash his plates.

“it's nothing to worry about.” he would reassure them with a pat on the head. “a few plates won't be the death of me.”

by the time he was back in the kitchen, his chest began to feel heavy as you and elanaor talked. both your backs facing him but judging from the heavy and somber frequency you created, he could only assume you're talking about something sorrowful.

“angel?” you're voice snapped him out of his stupor. “apologies, i zoned out.” he avoided your eyes as he set the down his dirty plates to the side and pulled his sleeves up to his elbows.

“you alright?” you question him, a brow quirked up in wonder. he looked to elanaor who was already looking at him with worry, “i should be the one asking that, but i’m alright.” you only hummed as you wiped your hands on the spare cloth and took off your apron.

“i have something i need to do.”

elanaor's frequency spiked making sunday’s heart skip a few beats.

“ely, angel, can you keep an eye on the children? i’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

“mother, wait!”

sunday felt his eyes widen as elanaor called you “mother”, dropping the plates she held on the sink and instead came to grip at your arm. her head hanging low as her hands curled into fists.

“does he need to go…?” she asks, voice below a whisper.

golden eyes met yours. sunday was trying to decipher how, or rather, why, your frequency suddenly flatlined, like how a heart would when someone passed. you were the first to break eye contact. leaning down to whisper something in elanaor's ear that broke the girl’s heart.

“angel.” your voice felt off too. it made his ears ring uncomfortably. it sounded like an untuned violin trying to play a complicated piece to impress the audience. “keep the children entertained while i’m absent.”

sunday didn't like you; he hated you. but right now, as you left the poor girl trying to harshly rub away the obvious tears spilling from her eyes, not bothering to turn back as you walked away, he decided he hated you even more.

—

“i understand. we’ll proceed like usual.”

your office was off limits to certain people for various reasons, but sunday and elanaor were exceptions. without turning to look back, you heard elanaor's voice from the other side of the door as you put the telephone down.

“come in.” you called out. the creak of the door always unnerved girl, you said you'd get it fixed but after the angel’s arrival you hadn't found any time to do so. “do you need something?”

“the children are asking for you.” this time it was the angel who spoke. his voice like a river flowing endlessly in a creak, you were distinctly aware that his kind had a natural affinity to having captivating voices.

“i’ll be down in a—”

you were cut off as a crow started cawing and scratching at your window. from its reflection you see elanaor look down and sunday staring at you with a narrowed gaze. with a sigh, you circled around your desk and opened the window. the crow situated itself on your shoulder, a piece of paper tied around one of its foot.

“the two of you go ahead of me.” you spoke, taking the piece of paper from the bird. “i still need to finish this.”

from the corner of your eyes, you see elanaor leave but sunday didn't budge from his spot.

“something the matter, angel?”

“enough with the mind games, death.”

he barged in your office, closing the door on his way and standing face to face with you. an angry fog clouding his eyes that reminded you of molten gold and sweet dreams.

“what's going on?”

“nothing is going on.”

“you're a terrible liar.” he snapped. you quirked a brow at him with a tilt of your head that made him even more furious.

“so the angel can feel angry. that's good to know.” you turn your back on him and open up the piece of paper in your hand despite already having guessed it's content.

gaining back his composure, you heard him take a deep breath before trying to calmly question you further.

“what did you whisper to elanaor this morning?”

“i believe that's none of your business.”

“you—!”

sunday was ready to snap again but reigned himself in just in time for you to walk past him.

“if you're so curious,” you opened your office door and paused to turn back on him. “why don't you join us later tonight?”

“join you for what?” he didn't like where this one was going. the air felt heavy, it's as if the entire world were resting on his shoulders. it didn't helpt that you gave him a bitter closed eyed smiled as you left the room.

“one of our boys will be leaving soon.”

—

“and so, they all lived happily ever after…”

by the time you and sunday reached the reading room, children of all ages were all huddled into a cozy circle with elenaor in the middle. in her lap was an old storybook you had found in one of your travels.

you placed blankets on each and every children sleeping on their makeshift fortress of scattered pillows and stuffed animals. brushing some of their hairs away from their eyes, letting your gloved hand linger on their faces for a while longer. all the while, sunday kept his gaze on you as elenaor stood by his side, storybook in her hands with an iron grip.

after tucking in everyone, you joined the two of them. you were the last one to exit the room. turning off the lights and letting your gaze loiter around the many sleeping faces in the now dark room.

“let's go.” you uttered with a sigh. taking the storybook from elanaor's hand and tucking it under your arms. “where are we going?” sunday asked who was a few paces behind you.

“we'll be bidding farewell to one of the older boys here.”

he didn't question you further like you had imagined, but you were grateful nonetheless. on the way you stopped by your office to take a candlestick and lit it up to serve as your guide through the dark house.

after climbing up a few steps, you stopped in front of an old rusting door. turning back to elanaor and sunday, you asked, “are you sure you want to be here?”

sunday was the first to answer.

“you were the one to invite me.” he crossed his arms over his chest. he kept his eyes closed to hide the anxiety he felt, but the wings behind his ears betrayed him as they came to try and hide away half of his face.

you turn to elanaor who only nodded solemnly.

“death doesn't have a requirement..” you mutter as you open the door and enter the room. the two followed you inside and heard elenaor choking back on her tears. “it will eventually come to everyone, regardless of their age, gender, race.”

“death will find us all.”

in the cold and lonely room stood a bed, a boy with deadly pale skin laid there as he looked at you with a knowing look on his face.

“it's good to see you again, mother.”

sunday was at a loss for words as you sat down on the edge of the bed as you took off the gloves you wore and placed them on the bedside table along with the candlestick. the crow that was perched on your shoulder came to rest on the boy's bedframe instead.

“it's good to see you again too, corvy.” the sickly boy reached out his hand to pet the crow’s head but heaved a cough in the middle of the action.

the sound of his coughing urged elenaor to leave his side and run towards that other side of the bed opposite to yours. she gripped the sheets in a tight fist, sunday feared her palms would begin to bleed if she gripped any tighter.

“everyone's time eventually runs out…” you mutter as a strange red chord appeared in your hands the moment you touched the boy's forehead. “it's only a matter of when and how you're time runs out.”

“did you enjoy your stay here, michael?”

the boy named michael smiled with content. his boney hand holding yours that rested on his cheek.

“i did, mother.” you smiled at his response. the same smile you would greet the children with once they have woken up; the same smile the children would close their eyes to whenever you finished reading them a bedtime story.

“that's good. i’m reassured that i did my job just fine.”

“you've always done a good job, mother.”

sunday couldn't believe his eyes. he didn't want to believe his eyes as your tears slowly cascaded down your face as you leaned down to press a kiss to the boy's forehead. elanaor jumping over to your side and hugging you tightly as her tears soaked your shirt.

your other hand came to hold the red string that was tied around the boy's sickly figure on the bed. you motioned your hand in a weird way and suddenly a pair of black scissors appeared. sunday felt his blood run cold as sweat dribbled down to his chin.

“may destruction have mercy on you.” you whisper to him, forehead resting against his. “leading your journey in the afterlife, forever peaceful.”

“may this be the end of your painful dreams.”

and in the blink of an eye, the cord was cut and the boy closed his eyes.

sunday read the way his lips moved and felt his heart break in sympathy.

“may you have peaceful dreams, too, mother.”

—

you carried destruction — death — in your fingertips. ever since that night, sunday had kept his distance from you. he always kept his distance with you, but now, you would never catch him standing near your vicinity.

the children found it strange. the two of you, without a fail, would always banter back and forth until the halovian had to leave to do other chores. some would turn to elenaor and ask what had happened between the two of you, but girl would only smiled with her eyes closed, pat them on the head and say “it's alright, they'll come around.”

but sunday thought otherwise.

how could death, shed any tears? it didn't make any sense. you were an emanator of destruction - he deduced from your words that night - death itself, so how come you brought life to the very house he and the soon be deceased children here?

they all considered you a mother. a mother. a parental figure they could go to to share their sorrows and woes.

you couldn't possibly be the death he's come to know and fear, but at the same time you were.

he wanted to hate you. hating you would be easier. it is easier. but his mind kept reminding him of the multiple times you would treat these children with the utmost gentleness. because you knew that one wrong touch could end their dreams.

“mr. sunday,” he looked up from his downcast position to look at elenaor. she'd been crying, sunday concluded. her eyes were red around the corners and she would sniffle from time to time. “will you be joining us for lunch?”

“ah…” he awkwardly turned his head away to hide the scratch that one of younger girls had accidentally given him. if she were to notice, elenaor would come bursting into your office to inform of his injury. “i’m feeling rather full as of now. I'm afraid i’ll have to decline.”

“i… see…” she only gave him a closed eyed smile. “well, goodbye then, mr. sunday.”

he waved goodbye to the girl who ran back inside the orphanage and sighed. hand coming to graze the cut on his left cheek and wincing as he did so.

“it'll get infected if you don't get that treated soon.”

sunday visibly froze, much to his dismay, as your figure emurged from his side. speak of the devil and they'll arrive, he thought.

“it's a scratch.” he weakly argued to which you only just hummed.

he kept his eyes on his hand playing with the grass as a shadow was cast over him. sunday flinched back when a gloved hand came to reach for his face, making him back up more to the tree he had been leaning on all morning. his actions startled you making you recoil your hand, all the while your hair obscured your eyes. but sunday swore he saw a flash of hurt in them. he felt guilty.

against his better judgement, his free hand came to hold yours in his.

“sunday?!” you said in shock trying to pull your hand away.

your hand was warm. he wondered if they ever got sweaty and uncomfortable when the heat reached its peak, wearing black under the scorching sun didn't seem too appealing.

“you said my name.” sunday replied, making you furrow your brows. of all the things he took note of, it was the way you said his name. slowly, he let go of your hand and let it fall back to your side. you held such a strange expression on your face, but who was he to talk. he did something strange too.

with a sigh, you pinch the bridge of your nose. “come on, let's get that scratch of yours a bandaid.”

sunday walked quietly with you as you navigated to the house’s makeshift infirmary. on the way there, children looked at the two of you with wide eyes and quickly rushed to each other's side to have hushed conversations.

“sit down.” you command and he followed.

the following minutes were spent in silence. you scavenging for a bandaid and some disinfectant, while he sat on the bed watching you move from one place to another.

“look to the right for me, angel.” your voice instructed him. this time, it wasn't your usual soft tone, nor was it the mellow and somber one on that night. it was more monotone this time around but still held some semblance of what he assumed was “fondness”.

your fingers carefully dabbed the cotton on his scratch before placing a bandaid over it. sunday noticed you didn't let your touch linger on his face like how you would when you patched up some of the kids when they got their own injuries.

“do you sing?” sunday asked on a whim, making you pause as you put away your tools. “what brought this on?” you question with a tilt of your head.

“louis and i heard someone humming the other day.” his finger grazed the fresh bandaid on his face. gold eyes never leaving your figure as you turned to look at him. “he told me you often hummed some of the children to sleep.”

“there's your answer then.”

sunday wanted to throw a pillow to your face. with an aggravated sigh, he stood up and followed you out the door.

“would it kill you to try and answer directly?”

“maybe.”

before you could step out of the infirmary, a pecking noise came from one of the windows, stopping sunday and you in your tracks.

you left his side and opened the window and let the crow inside the room. like the first time, it sat on your shoulder as you unraveled the piece of paper it handed you.

“will another child be leaving?” he mumbled. you walk towards him again and the both of you walk out of the infirmary. “everyone in this orphanage will leave.” your eyes met his and sunday pondered on what was going on in your mind.

“including you?”

“yes.” your answer was unexpected. “including me.”

“how so?”

“i’m no exception, angel.” there you were again, calling him by that blasted pet name. he couldn't fight the urge to roll his eyes as he followed you to the library. “i may bring death, but death will eventually come for me one day.”

“will someone replace you once you're gone?”

you only nod your head in agreement. hands grazing the many spines of the books that make up your library.

“ely would probably replace me.”

sunday pressed his lips to a firm line. in his mind, it made sense. elanoar was undeniably the closest child to you. she even accompanied you and him when michael departed, and he could only imagine how many children she's seen leave this orphanage in that room.

“they aren't really children, you know.”

the gray haired man furrowed his brows in confusion. “what do you mean?”

“you know what dreamscapes are, right?” he nods and follows you to sit down on one of many seats in the library beside the window. “people sleep and enter this fantastical world created by your predecessors. this place is similar. the reason why i call it “death's waiting room”, is because it's actually a waiting room.”

“do you mean…” sunday paused, trying to connect all the pieces you've given him. “these… children… they probably aren't children. they're people who've fallen asleep and are waiting for death.”

“exactly.” you flip through the pages of the book you had taken from one of the shelves. every page was filled with different words in elegant cursive handwriting. “right now, you're in a dream. waiting for your time to run out. waiting for death to come to you.”

“then, if that's the case, when will you cut the cord of my life?”

“even i don't know the answer to that.”

“is my name not written on the paper your companion gave you?”

you shook your head. “then how do you know when someone's time is up?” you take a few minutes to organize your thoughts, trying to think of a way to explain it, but in the end you couldn't.

“i don't know.”

“you don't know?!” sunday snapped. hands crashing on the wooden table as he stood up. his eyes were furious at you, making you sigh. “i’m not a god, angel.” you snap the book shut in hand. the sound echoing in the empty library as sunday sat back down.

“i may bring death to everyone i touch, but i am no more than a pawn in the grander schemes of things.”

“even i don't know why death comes to take the lives of us humans.”

sunday was speechless as he looked at you. you looked tired — absolutely exhausted — just like how his sister would describe him whenever he refused to leave his office back in penacony.

“i… apologize..” he bowed his head in shame. “i don't normally lose my composure like this.”

“it's fine.” he heard you sigh. “everyone grows on edge when death is waiting outside their door.”

“do you have to cut the cord?”

what a silly question, you must've thought. but sunday wanted to know even if what he was asking was inevitable.

you only smiled bitterly in response.

“even i fear the consequences of death, angel. i have to.”

sunday felt sick in the stomach when dinner approached. his ears ringed with your response, that you too, will eventually meet your end. it made him sick, and he didn't want to admit it.

he didn't come down to the dining room as usual. he expected elenaor to knock on his door, carrying a tray of food, something she's been doing after michael’s departure. but this time, when he opened the door, he had to stop you from stumbling inside his room as elenaor kept pushing you inside even with her hands occupied.

“elenaor..?!” you both whisper yell to the girl.

“you two need to talk!” she said with a huff. you winced when she dropped the tray of food on his table. “everyone's been worried about you two, y'know.” you both look away, sunday scratching his cheek while you were blatantly ignoring the girl as she put her hands on her hips.

“mother,” she called out to you but you pretended to not hear. “mother!” she said a little louder, now standing in front of you as she tugged and whined for you to acknowledge her. “you're so mean, mother!”

sunday’s wings hid the growing smile and laughter that was bubbling in his chest at the comical sight.

your cold facade was cracking with the way your lips were curving upwards; eyes pooling with mirth as the girl continued to scold you for some odd reason.

“and you!” elenaor pointed at sunday with her finger. he saw you snicker under your breath, fist in front of your lips, a futile attempt to hide your amusement. “you're supposed to be the more mature one between the two of you!”

“i am?” he points to himself with a tilt of his head. “yes!” she replied with a huff. elanaor made her way to the door, but not without giving the two of you another half attempt to glare. “by tomorrow, the two of you should be back to normal!” and for good measure, she slammed the door shut on the both of you.

the room was quiet, that is until, your giggles filled the room. your poor attempt in stopping your laughter made sunday's eyes go wide in shock, though he didn't know why. you always laughed in the house. be it from the teasing you always do to him and the other kids or by something else, you were always a giggly person.

but this was different. sunday just knew this was different. the way your eyes crinkled and shaped itself into little crescent moons and how tears of pure joy would escape every now and then. and your smile, aeons your smile. that smile didn't belong to death, it belonged to you.

sunday's laugh rang like church bells, you had to double check if what you were hearing was real. the two of you shared a moment of silence before erupting into fits of giggles again. the sound reminded you both of children running around the orphanage, playing kings and queens, monsters and knights, and the laughter that came after all the playing.

“what a strange girl she is.” sunday said after coughing into his fist. he had to reign himself in when you laughed in reply. “she is. but she's my strange girl.”

your eyes lingered on the door the younger girl had slammed. they held such fondness, sunday wouldn't have guessed the “death” he's always been afraid of would be so loving.

“well, now that's done.” you wipe away any stray tears left and motion sunday to his food. “eat. louis told me you hadn't eaten lunch. you must be starving.”

sunday sat down on the chair while you sat on the edge of his bed. smoothing out any creases on his blanket as he ate his food. every once in a while, he'd look at you between bites and still see that smile present on your face.

“you should smile more.” he said before wiping his lips on the towel elanaor had kindly prepared his food with.

“i could say the same to you, angel.” you look back at him. the same soft smile still on your lips as the streams of moonlight in this beautiful dream started to fill in the gaps of the window in the room, bathing you in a glow that made you look divine. “you look more handsome when you smile.”

he coughed into his fist as you laughed. wings coming to try and cover his face and hide his flustered state.

“i never… took you one for compliments.”

you tilt your head curiously, “do i not look like the type to give compliments.” sunday shook his head. hair and wings following his movement that made you swoon inside, it was nothing short of adorable. seeing the always composed mr. sunday stuff his face with the food you cooked for him.

this wasn't good. but you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

“you're wrong then.” you say as you let yourself fall onto his bed.

“are you fond of children?”

“well, i wouldn't have gone through all this trouble by creating this dream if i wasn't.”

“just answer me directly, death.”

you laugh again in response. how strange it was, that the name “death” the halovian would always use to describe you no longer sounded hostile.

“yes.” you said softly. “i’m very fond of them.”

“why?” he questions. you hear the sound of plates and utensils move around and it wasn't long before another weight made the bed dip from the other side. “everyone dreams of having their own family, angel. i’m no exception.”

you closed your eyes for a moment before they open again in bewilderment as you looked to your side.

your right hand, still with it's glove on, was being held by sunday's own hands. his thumbs and index finger would tug at your fingers before his palm settled in your own.

you could hear the way your heart was beating in your ears. “do you not fear death, angel?” you ask as you let the man play with your hand like a child.

“i do.” he answered. you felt the bed dip and shift as he turned to lay on his side. “but recently, i've come to know them very well.”

you close your eyes again. letting the feeling of sunday tracing shapes in your palms lull you into a momentary sleep.

“what is death like, if you've gotten to know them very well.”

“death is a scary thing.” he paused, making sure you were listening. “i tiptoed around it back at home, like how two siblings would've tried to hide from their father when they played hide and seek.”

“i didn't believe death existed until it took something - someone - very important away from me. it was the first time in a while did i felt the fear and fury of it all being poured into my body.”

“do you hate death, angel?” you ask, still not opening your eyes.

“i do.” he answered with no hesitation, making you scoff. “death is impatient, not waiting for me to finish my explanation before jumping to conclusions.”

alright, you admit, he got you there.

“i hate death. i don't ever want to experience it anytime soon. it takes and it takes, and i don't want it to take anything important away from me ever again.” you felt sunday weave your fingers together as he spoke. “but i learned that death, also gives.”

“death is a lot kinder than i imagined. they didn't snarl or bite - but they did tease and scoff - at me. they're fond of children, much to my surprise. treating them with the utmost care and gentleness, even i believe i don't possess.”

“death, though not intentionally, showed me that even beautiful dreams can cause suffering. something i've refused to believe — to acknowledge — for the longest time.”

“are you scared?” you ask. opening your eyes to turn to lay on your side as well. not letting sunday's hand slip away from yours.

“no, not anymore.” somehow, you could almost see the smile his handsome face wore. “because death is gentle when someone's time is up.”

“what if they aren't gentle with you?”

“well,” he only chuckles. “death is gentle with me right now, are they not?”

ah, he got you again.

—

sunday, from a very young age, was taught that dreams were one of the many ways that the gods used to convey their intentions to mankind.

all his life, sunday had seen the ugliest side of humanity and yet he wished nothing but the best for them. he dreamed of creating a paradise where humanity no longer had to fight for survival; the strong wouldn't grow stronger nor will the weak grow weaker. everyone would be equal.

sunday's existence was to be everyone's savior; their saving grace in this perpetually cruel world. he would willingly spend the rest of eternity in solitude if it meant that others could live in a paradise, free from all misery and suffering.

he's never seen anything wrong with wanting to escape; taking the easy way out. who would want to be in pain after all.

you would.

why does life slumber? he always asks — he wanted to ask you but never got that chance to.

“we slumber because we don't want to wake up. we do not wish to see a painful and unfair tomorrow. we want to hold on to this beautiful dream where everything is alright. because we fear the future, we don't wish to wake up. the future is not kind, not to everyone. we will lose everything.”

“but we still have to.”

jolting awake, sunday pressed his hand over his chest where his heart was beating erratically, its sound ringing uncomfortably in his ears. no longer was he in the orphanage he'd grown accustomed to. now, he was all alone, in a damp, cold, and dark room.

“can the angel walk?”

twisting his head to the side, there you sat. the same black off shoulder top, muted purple skirt, and your companion perched on your shoulder as you close the book in your grasp.

you smiled at him. “so the angel can wake up, good to know.” your words ring in his ears. it feels nostalgic, a sudden sense of deja vu, but it left him with a feeling of doom as you walked to stretch a hand to him.

sunday took it with a moment of hesitation. he let himself be pulled up with your help and let you lead him somewhere else.

“where are we?” he asks.

“in reality.”

his eyes narrowed in a confused glare.

“what happened to the orphanage?” he didn't like the quietness of everything. he couldn't read your emotions, frequency practically nonexistent. “gone. everyone left.”

the ground shook along with his heart. he couldn't properly process the way you took hold of his hand and began to run straight into the darkness.

he was scared. he was so uncontrollably scared with what you've done because why…. why was he still alive?

“pick up the pace angel.” you turn your head to him. a teasing smile on your lips trying to hide the panic and terror in your eyes. “don't tell me the angel forgot how to run?”

“what's going on…”

“nothing's going on.” there you were again, avoiding the question; leaving him guessing in the dark.

against his instincts — the nagging voice in his mind to follow you and run — he pried his hand away from yours and skid to a stop.

“angel?!” you shout in confusion. your panic doubled as the ground shook more and more.

“you can't just keep me in the dark, death.” his hands balled up into fists at his sides. the look of foreboding did not suit you, he much preferred your easy going natured smile. “i’m not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on.”

what a stubborn child, your mind replayed. eyes fogging up with an unreadable emotion.

“alright,” you say calmly. “how about a game then?”

sunday looked confused but stayed patient with you. something you're not used to.

“let's play a round of tag. you're it. if you tag me, i’ll tell you everything.”

“this isn't a game, death.”

sunday had come to the forlorn conclusion that he didn't even know your name.

“all if fair in love and war.” your voice matched your somber eyes.

what did you mean in love and war? what love? what war?

“come on now, angel, can't you just play one game with me?”

his adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed his fears down along with his hesitation.

“okay.” he said. “let's play, but just one game.”

you smiled in thanks. “on my count, we run.”

“three.”

“two.”

“one.”

“RUN!”

and so the both of you did. you ran with such vigor, sunday felt that he'd lose here. lose the chance of finally knowing the truth.

“don't give up on me now, angel. we're almost there!”

your laughter echoed in the dim lit corridors of this nightmare that seemed to never end. but the way a crown of light bathed you, sunday felt his feet push further and further until they burned from the pain.

you kept smiling back at him. the childish smile he'd always see on the faces of the many children back in the when they also played tag. you would always be “it” and tagged one child to another, leaving you the victor by the end of it all.

but this time, sunday would rise victorious.

“brother!”

sunday skid to a stop as a body slammed on his own, nearly making him stumble down. a warm embrace enveloped him, the same embrace that woke him from his dreams of order back in penacony.

“it's mr. sunday!”

“are you alright?”

everything was too fast. one moment he was playing tag with death and now he's reunited with his sister and the astral express crew.

“robin…” he quietly murmured. arms snaking to hug his sister tightly as tears pricked the corner of his eyes. “i’m here, brother.”

sunday let a smile break out of his face as he let robin check up on him. laughing at the way she weakly punched him on the chest.

“it's a good thing you're unharmed, mr. sunday.” welt said, fixing his glasses. “it took us quite a while to find you, but i’m glad our efforts weren't in vain.”

sunday furrowed his brows. “what do you mean?”

“after your disappearance in penacony, me and the astral express crew had joined forces to track you down.” robin explained.

“i… see…” sunday pondered if the reason they weren't able to find him was because he was inside your dream.

wait.

“death?!” he shouted into the space but no one answered. he was sure that everyone was looking at him weirdly as he lightly pushed robin to the side to try and look for you.

“death?!” the pink haired girl exclaimed. “what's going on mr. sunday?!”

before sunday could respond, another tremor broke out.

“brother!”

something flashed in sunday’s mind for a quick moment. his mind replayed the first time he arrived at “death's waiting room”, how he was forced to do chores and help around, tell the children bedtime stories and tuck them in for bed. how the first night he witnessed death made his stomach swirl with uncontrollably fear and how “death” itself cried for the departed.

he remembered how elanaor barged into his temporary room and pushed you in. how he ate his dinner in silence as you smooth out the creases on his bed. how, against his own judgement, came to lay on the bed and hold your hand that he couldn't believe brought upon ruin to someone's dream.

“it's time to wake up, sunday.”

sunday felt a body hug him tightly before he was pushed out of the way. in a quick flash, a red cord wrapped around him and death before it snapped.

the loud clamor of a giant gate dropping made his ears ring. sunday felt his breath quicken as he ran to the metal gate and slammed his fist against it in a poor attempt to get it to open.

“death!” another slam of his fist. “death you said you'd explain!” and another. “don't leave me in the dark!”

sunday felt his breath becoming shorter and shorter.

and how his heart dropped when crimson started to slip through the cracks of the metal gate.

“you didn't tag me, so i still win.”

“no…” another slam of his fist, louder than ever. “no! death hang on, we can save you!”

“you can't.”

“you don't know that!”

the trailblazer came to pry him away from the gate but he persisted.

“i know death better than anyone else, angel.”

“you…!” sunday felt his legs give out on him. he could only gaze at the way your blood pooled at the floor. “what did you do…”

you chuckled. “i never thought i’d die for someone else, you know.” sunday's caught wind of the cawing noises on the other side of the gate.

“no…”

“who would've guessed i would die for your sins.”

“the papers…” and you only hummed to confirm his suspicion.

there was one thing that sunday noticed whenever s child needed to depart: your companion will always bring you a piece of paper with their name written on it.

“my name…” he weakly muttered. “i was supposed to die…”

“you were.”

were. you didn't kill him.

the papers that started to pile in your office and the way your companion never once left your side; they way that never - not even once - have you taken off your gloves off whenever you fondly brushed his bangs away from his eyes or the way you let him hold your hands.

you didn't kill him.

the room shook again, this time stronger than the previous ones.

“we need to leave, now!” the navigator shouted.

sunday felt his body being supported as the trailblazer slung one his arms over his shoulder.

“fly. fly far, far, away from here sunday; you're free now.”

how ironic it was, that you, “death” itself, would die for a man who tried to go against the principles of the aeon he claimed to follow.

you brought the head of the oak family to your waiting room, waiting for the moment when his name would be delivered to you so could cut the cord of his life. but you never did.

“you're no longer guilty, your sins have been cleansed.”

you didn't want to let him go, as he did with you when he held your hand that night.

“i’m sorry i couldn't be gentle like you hoped for. but this was the only way.”

“i hope you finally understand that human suffering is inevitable. that even when we're in pain we still find a way to value our lives.”

“we are not gods, angel, we don't get a say in what happens to humankind. but i hope you'll come around to accept that it's what makes us all human. remember us — me — with fondness in mind.”

sunday will never come to know death, because death died for him and his sins.

“i hope you enjoyed your time with death, sunday.”

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