#feels good but also my head is so stuffy that i also felt like passing out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stormkobra-5 · 2 years

Text

Phases

Pairing: Marc Spector x Reader

Fic Type: Drabble

Beta’d by the lovely @marc-spectorr 😌

Summary: Marc knew that being Khonshu’s Avatar came with side effects. He just was never quite aware of how, exactly, the phases of the moon affected him. Not until you.

A/N: So. The gif. Pretend he’s not getting impaled. Or injured at all. Because honestly that’s the position I picture him being in when he’s pinning the reader against him. 🤡 (Also, this is kind of a Marc version of Feral Flight…)[Yes, I ignored my ask box to finish this :/]

Rating/Warnings: 18+ NSFW, Minors DNI, primal play, breeding kink, unprotected PiV, exhibitionism (Steven and Jake watch and comment), feral!Marc Spector, marathon sex, slight dub/non-con, fingering, softdom!Marc, a/b/o vibes, mating kink (??? This is a version of Feral Flight, after all), Marc is confuzzled about what’s happening to him but gives in, lots of mentions of getting the reader pregnant, sex with intention of getting reader pregnant, the phases of the moon affect the Moon Boys, foul/vulgar language, praise kink, rough (?) sex, lots of mentions of Khonshu but like??? He’s not in it???, jealous Marc (briefly), biting, marking, fluff, somehow this went from the kinkiest shit I’ve ever written to extreme yearning fluff idk

Dating the boys had surely been an experience you’d never forget. Steven, Marc, Jake, your boyfriends whom you loved deeply; and they loved you tenfold each. It was a strange feeling, being in a relationship with all three alters— but strange in a good way. You took every part of them and accepted it, loving them for who they were wholly and completely.

Although… you didn’t expect there to be a part of them that even they weren’t aware of…

Marc knew that the phases of the moon affected the powers that Khonshu gave them. The fuller it was, the more powerful they were. On the New Moon, they all slept so deeply that not even Khonshu himself could wake them. It was apparently some kind of rejuvenating period, which made sense (and also prompted a three-and-half explanation from Steven).

But on the Full Moon?

Their powers were amplified tenfold.

When wearing the suit, their super-strength, flight, speed, healing abilities, they seemed invincible and godlike. It was a feeling that went straight to their heads. For nearly a week around the day of the full moon, they became arrogant. Cocky. Marc would be the first to admit that they became fucking assholes, even Steven. Not to mention, the extra metabolism (? So Steven said. Marc wasn’t too sure.) forced them to eat. And eat. And eat. They bulked up. Whereas throughout the rest of the month they were fit and lean, during the week of the full moon their bodies were sleek, contoured muscle. They would beat the shit out of their enemies (even Steven), or pick fights. They were quick to respond with aggression, and he even felt his neighbors weren’t safe.

Whenever he was in the flat around that time, he would snap and huff at the people he’d ride with in the elevator. They were too close, it was too stuffy, he wanted to chase everyone out of the fucking building and patrol it just to keep everyone out. He felt that way so violently that he usually went out to protect his innocent neighbors before he lost all sense of self. Jake liked to joke that it was just a “moon period,” and it would pass.

Then you came along, and it got worse.

And different.

He seemed to eat more. He was more aggressive toward his neighbors. Every sound in the hall made him want to bust down the door and attack whoever it was because they were too close to you. Everyone was too close to you. You needed a whole building to yourself and Marc would patrol it to keep you safe. If you wanted to go out, he’d just have to go with you, Khonshu be damned.

But with you other things happened that made him confused.

He'd catch himself piling your blankets around him while you were at work just to envelop him in your scent— the smell of your shampoo, though he swore it was more than that. He swore he had heightened senses, because he could almost smell you on an animalistic level. When you got home, he was all over you, worshiping you like you were a princess. He’d have a hot bath already running for you, he’d make you food, ensure you drank water, help you with your shoes and jacket; he catered to you on a standard day, especially Steven, but this was different. He’d be practically unable to let go of you, literally keeping his arms around you and whining high-pitched in the back of his throat like a fucking dog if you had to move. He’d almost aggressively cuddle you, burying his face in the crook of your neck and letting your smell overwhelm him, comfort him.

Of course he’d explained it to you before the time had hit, but in his brief moments of clarity, he’d whisper helplessly with tears in his eyes, “I-I don’t know what’s happening to me…”

You’d only kiss his forehead. Ever patient. Ever loving. He wondered what he did to deserve you. “It’s okay, Marc. We’ll get through it together, I promise.” Of course, Khonshu never explained anything to him.

You were so patient.

Even when he was fucking you senseless.

Usually you both had a reasonable lust for each other, but during the full moon, his sex drive was through the roof. He had to take you. He had to feel you. He was gentle, but also relentless— he wasn’t sure where he suddenly got the stamina for twelve fucking rounds after dinner, but his intention was never to hurt you. He just wanted you. If you pushed him away, too tired for more, Marc would immediately launch into aftercare. A warm bath, blankets straight from the dryer, and him laying protectively around you.

Although there was one night he caught himself lapping slowly at your throat. The fuck???

Jake and Steven were just as bad as he was. In fact, Steven was probably worse. His pent-up years of anger made him more dangerous to strangers and more rough with you, so he kept away from the front.

Marc was happy when on the next full moon, Khonshu had work for him; but it ended up not taking as long as he’d planned. By only eight o’clock he was done with the mission, and he ran thirty times full speed around the block your workplace was in just to let off some steam. He made sure, though, that when you got off, he was there to watch over you from a nearby rooftop.

The wind changed, and he swore— he fucking swore he caught a whiff of your goddamn scent.

No, he really was. Was that a new power? Heightened senses? His mask melted away so that he could better smell it— he shouldn’t know you’re ovulating. He shouldn’t. Were you this morning? No, he’d smelled it coming. He’d been all over you before you’d left for work. But, oh, you smell so fucking good.

Ovulating. The word rings around in his head for a minute. His alters are somewhere in the headspace, keeping away from the front at all costs. He tries to swallow hard, but his throat and mouth are so damn dry that he just can’t. All he can think about is you. You you you. And the fact that you’re ovulating.

He hears a high noise nearby and isn’t sure what it is until he realizes that it’s him. He’s whining as he watches you bid goodbye to a coworker who was chatting with you, wanting nothing more than to pin you down right. There.

Marc shifted his weight, his suit suddenly far too tight in the crotch. The wind shifts, and so does his mood.

There’s another scent on you.

The scent of a male.

He can almost see the handprint on your shoulder from where one of your coworkers passed you earlier in the day. The scent is faint, stale, but it’s there, and it makes him furious. He’s possessive over you, and that scares him. He wants to lick and rub his face all over that spot while fucking you hard just to cover you wholly in his scent again.

He’s there, too; he can smell himself on you. The smell of citrus and metal and wood, all fucking over you. You’re his. Except for that. Spot. How dare someone touch his mate while she’s ovulating? If he wasn’t so distracted by you, he’d have tracked the scent and broken both the coworker’s hands for it.

Marc’s head grew foggy. His vision narrowed until you were all he could see. All of his senses were trained on you. He thought he might have whined again, realizing he was palming himself a little too roughly when Jake said in the back of his head, “...Ow,” followed by Steven: “Oi, you tryin’ to castrate us, mate?”

Mate. Marc wasn’t sure where his mind went or what kind of trance he was in. I’ve gotta get down there— get to her— have to— have to mate with her— Marc stood, following you from the rooftop and starting to parkour down. I have to mate with her. Right now, while she’s ready for me.

“Oh shit,” Jake muttered, “Easy, hombré; you hurt her, I won’t hesitate in castrating us. You need fucking fixed, man.”

“Not gonna hurt her,” Marc mumbled as he prepared himself for the drop to the sidewalk below, “Not gonna hurt her…”

Steven, meanwhile, had come too close to the front. He hovered, feral, just behind the edge of Marc’s conscious thought, urging him on silently. Waiting for Marc to pounce.

Marc landed in a crouch before you, making you yelp in momentary terror. The smell was like burning plastic, and he didn’t like it. “No, baby, it’s me—“

Your scent returned to normal as you let out a whooshing breath of relief, a broad but wary smile on your face. “Marc,” The way you said his name caused a shiver to run up his spine. You started to ask him something— whether he was still on a mission, how it went, or something like that, he wasn’t sure— all he knew was that his body was moving before his mind, rushing forward to crush your lips together in a bruising kiss. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, taking advantage of your slack jaw, an arm slipping around you from behind to pull you flush against him. The sensation of your taste and your body against him felt overwhelming. His suit was suddenly scratchy, his skin too hot and feverish, his breath and heartbeat too quick. If he could have seen how black his eyes were, he might have had the sense to be concerned.

His hungry kisses trailed down your neck, where he pulled your shirt down your shoulder to expose the skin. Your gasp at the contact of the chilly night air went straight to his core, and he growled. The scent of the other male was making him pissed, and he found himself licking at the spot before biting down.

Hard.

So hard he drew blood, and you cried out, voice echoing in the empty street.

He didn’t pull back, keeping you against him and rolling his hips into you to try and ease the pressure in his groin with another whine. “Marc—“

“Run,” He hissed in your ear.

The demand took you by surprise. “Huh?”

“I want you to run from me,” He clarified softly, “Run. As fast and as far as you can. Until I catch you. Please?”

“W-what happens if you catch me?” You managed, a little shaken and also understanding what was happening to your boys.

“I get to fuck you,” Marc nipped at your jawline, trying to entice you. If there was one thing he wasn’t going to do, it was force himself on you. He’d catch a plane to Singapore just to keep himself away from you if you said no. He was still steadily rocking into you, lapping at your wounded shoulder as he tried to cover the scent of the other male, take it away, get rid of it…

“M-Marc,” You breathed; he could see in your eyes that you were greatly concerned. But he could also smell your arousal, and it was just making his whole situation worse. “We’re out in public. Can you wait till we get back to the flat?”

He was able to have a moment of clarity (? If you could call it that). Mainly because Steven was acting like a caged tiger, slamming up against the front violently like an animal behind bars. Marc wouldn’t let him out; couldn’t let him out. Steven could get rough and hurt you without even meaning to, and then he’d feel guilty and horrible when he came back to himself. Marc knew that he was always gentle, that he could stop himself, but... “Don’t you fucking dare take her here, Marc. Getting her scent everywhere in a place so far from home. Getting her everywhere— you get her home, Marc. Get her home, or I will. She needs to be safe.”

Steven was his voice of reason, as always. He wholly agreed with his alter, biting softly at your jawline and nuzzling into your neck. There. He found it. The spot right behind your ears that had your knees buckling, a flood of arousal heading straight to your core. You were probably dripping for him already.

“Bloody hell,” Steven groaned when he saw how you nearly went limp, if not for Marc catching you and holding you against him.

Marc scooped you up in his arms and held you close, taking you back to the flat; it wasn’t a particularly long walk, but it felt like days. Marc’s suit was tight, way too tight and he could barely breathe. By the time the building was in sight, he was sweating buckets and could barely walk, almost in pain. He set you down carefully, much to your confusion. “Can you run? Please? I want to chase you.”

“Why?” You weren’t mocking, or teasing; you were genuinely asking why he wanted to chase you. He himself wasn’t sure— all he knew was that he wanted to have the thrill of chasing you before mating with you. Before…

Before he breeds you.

The thought of potentially impregnating you makes him moan into your neck, and he turns you around, giving you a gentle nudge to the building. “Go. Go, please.”

Reluctantly, you did. Marc started counting to thirty, watching your shrinking form pick up speed, as his alters spoke up.

1…2…3…

Steven was too close, heated and pissed. “Get that bloody male’s scent off her, Marc. I don’t care if you have to fucking cum on her shoulders. Get. It. Off.”

“Marc, listen to me, hombré,” Jake said, farther back, still horny but sensible. He wasn’t letting himself get near to the front, but he kept trying to pull Steven back, which resulted violently; not entirely in control of himself, Steven attacked, fending Jake off while keeping his position in co-fronting. “Remember yourself. Don’t let yourself hurt her.”

20, 21, 22…

Keeping Steven contained was the equivalent of holding a cat carrier with a violent, strong cat freaking out on the inside. Marc was losing his hold, grip failing—

Steven took advantage of the slip and bolted.

You’d only just gotten through the doors of the building when Steven took off, too far gone to hear Jake reprimanding him or Marc begging him for the body back. He burst through the doors just as you entered the elevator, watching with wide eyes as he raced for you. The doors closed before he reached them, and he slammed into them hard enough to dent them. The suit gave him the strength to pry the doors open with the sound of screeching metal, but the car was already gone, leaving only a gaping hole in the floor. Steven whirled for the stairs with a growl of frustration.

He’d only made it halfway up when he faltered, dizzy from how he was panting and from the overwhelming scents of his neighbors. A part of him was furious. They shouldn't be this close to you. The other was horrified. If he’d have caught you in the elevator, what would he have done?

Steven put his face in his hands. “T-Take over. One of you take over. Please.”

Marc easily slipped into the front, slumping over. Steven disappeared into the farthest reaches of the headspace that he could go, but Marc and Jake both knew it was only a matter of time before he came back out.

Muscles shaking, Marc sprinted the last few floors to the flat, tearing open the door to find your scent fresh and present; his eyes locked on you as you stood in the middle of the living room, unsure of what to do. He gently closed and locked the door behind him, striding forward to take you in his arms and kiss you deeply. He wasn’t even aware that his hand rested on your stomach until he broke away to kiss your neck. “No condoms. Please.”

“Mar—“

“Please,” Marc was speaking before his mind could comprehend that he was fucking begging. “I-I dont just wanna have s-sex, I want to mate with you, breed you, pleasepleasepleaseplease—“ He must’ve been rambling, because you took his face in your hands to look him in the eyes. Marc forced himself to form a coherent sentence, though his voice was barely a whisper. “I-I… I want to get you pregnant…” He shook his head, realizing what he was saying in a moment of true clarity. “Baby, I don’t know what’s happening, please forgive me—“

You kissed him softly. Just a peck. “Marc. It’s okay.”

Marc moaned with relief, turning you around and helping you to the bed. He laid you flat on your back and caged you in underneath of him, pressing his face into your neck to lick and suck and bite at your throat. The scents of the flat— you, him, home— relaxed his tense muscles. It made him feel as if you were in a safe zone. He peeled your jacket off and tore off your button-down shirt, the little buttons flying everywhere. Marc didn’t remove the suit, still only maskless— if it enhanced his powers, he wondered if it would enhance other things. If it might take first try.

Your little whimpers and gasps caused his hips to buck into you suddenly. He slipped his waist between your legs, which locked around his torso tightly to pull him closer. The sound of tearing fabric filled the bedroom as Marc tore off your pants and underwear with no effort whatsoever, making you gasp loudly and moan his name. Marc sensed how wet you were and snarled against your neck, grinding into you as he entwined his fingers with yours.

Your naked body was responding to him exactly how he wanted you to. You writhed and rocked against him, squeezing his hands for something to ground you. You wrestled a hand out from under his, and at first he was going to pin it back down, but then your fingers tangled in his curls and tugged. He groaned into your neck, sinking his teeth gently into your flesh and sweeping his other arm underneath of you to hold you against him; yours magnetized around him, hand fisting his cape at his back.

His hand slipped between you, sinking into your heat; you gasped, though the fact that you rocked into his hand made him continue. You were soaked.

He had Jake in one ear, barely able to control himself, whispering about how he needs to fuck you hard and thorough. He had Steven in the other, growling and cussing and trying to force himself to the front to take you himself.

Marc pulled back a little, just enough to maneuver his suit to pull his length out, throbbing and so hard he was nearly in pain. “Baby,” You whispered sympathetically, concerned, and Marc nudged his face into yours.

“Is this okay?”

You frowned, pulling him closer. He’d walk away if you said no, willing to fight through the pain of whatever was wrong with him. “It’s okay.”

Marc slowly, carefully, like you were made of glass, pushed into you. His hips twitched too quickly as he sunk in, as if he was fighting himself not to take you rough. Once he bottomed out, he unleashed a primal groan, deep in the back of his throat. “Oh my god; that’s it, babygirl, that’s it…”

His thrusts were slow as he rubbed your clit, trying to get you to the edge that he was already at. But it wasn’t enough, he needed more and so did you…

He pulled out, ignoring your whine save for a reassuring nudge against your face. “S’okay.” He turned you over, assisting you to your hands and knees; he doubled over you as he buried himself inside you again, pressing against something devastating deep within you— you cried out, loudly enough to where you knew your neighbors would be complaining in the morning. One of his arms swept under your hips to hold you firmly against him, the other, holding himself up alongside your own. You gripped his wrist for leverage as he propped a leg up beside you, knowing that he was going to absolutely ruin you.

The position woke up something feral in him. He was sure that Steven and Jake were co-fronting now, adding to his actions, but he didn’t care. You felt and looked and smelled so fucking good around and under and all over him that he didn’t care at all. His hips pistoned into you at a bruising pace, the head of his cock punching your cervix with each blow. His eyes rolled back in his head as he finally felt the build of his orgasm; but he couldn’t cum yet. Not without you. “Fuck, sweetheart—“ His position shifted slightly. He straightened his back, both hands coming to grip your hips briefly before one slipped underneath of you, pressing against your stomach until you moaned; he started grinding, feeling himself nudge against your insides as you started to sob with pleasure. Marc let out a guttural groan, letting his forehead fall onto your back. You all but screamed when he started roughly massaging your clit with his other hand.

“That’s it, babygirl, that’s it, come on… Come on…”

You came with a piercing wail that almost hurt his ears. Tumbling after you after a few stuttering thrusts was Marc, spilling into you with a yelp of alarm. “Oh— shit!” He stilled, face contorting with the pleasure of his high as he held you against him, panting fast and heavy as he emptied into you for far longer than he was used to. “F-fuck…”

“Huh,” Jake hummed, “Who knew wearing Khonshu’s suit would give us a bigger load.” Steven, on the other hand, had felt the orgasm too, and was calmed down, in a sort of daze.

“M-Marc,” you whimpered, but he was loathe to pull out of you. He reached up and brushed your sweaty hair back away from your face, kissing at your shoulders.

Gently, he rolled over so that you were both on your sides before pulling out; he scooped whatever dripped out right back in, not that it mattered. It didn’t take. She’s not pregnant. Marc frowned, whimpering as he let the suit melt off. You couldn’t take another load like that, not right now; he wasn’t even sure if you could take another orgasm. He was licking at your throat and that spot that drove you crazy, slowly, eyes closed as he breathed you in and held you against him. The contrast of your naked form against his clothed body made him feel off, so he pulled back and stripped of everything, settling in bed beside you.

He was already hard again, and the blissful smile you sent his way only made it worse. It disappeared off your face when you saw his pained expression. “What is it?”

“I… I need more…” He was reluctant to admit it. He didn’t want to take advantage of you.

“Marc…” You cupped his face in your hand. “I can take it. I promise. I’ll use my safeword if I can’t, okay?”

“Okay?” Marc echoed, situating himself above you and between your legs. “You sure? I don’t wanna hurt you—“

“I’m fine,” Was all the assurance he needed.

It was slower this time, more sensual. He held you against him as he drove carefully into you with firm rolls of his hips, getting as deep as possible. Your shared orgasm was enough to knock him out cold, and Steven fronted. Gently, he caressed your face as he hovered over you, already hard again inside you and knowing it hadn’t taken yet. “I’m sorry for scaring you earlier, dove,” Steven breathed, nuzzling up under your chin. “Don’t know what came over me… do you have one more in you, lovey? One more?”

You knew full well it wouldn’t be just one more, or two. Steven managed to cum in you once, but he drew two orgasms from you first. Then Jake was fronting, gently moving you so that your legs were over his shoulders before he slowly pounded into you, drawing another orgasm from you when he came.

Fighting the urges, he launched into aftercare, wiping you clean and engulfing you in his hold as you slept.

When he woke, it was Marc. Jake and Steven were quiet. It was only midnight. The full moon blazed through the window, illuminating the whole room with silver light— and you were gone. Marc sat up in a panic, your scent overwhelming him and fresh; but where were you? He called your name warily, only for you to come out of the bathroom with one of his shirts on. Your legs were wobbly. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You needed your rest,” you whispered softly as he helped you back into bed. Immediately, his arms were around you and he was pulling you underneath of him, nuzzling into your throat with a soft hum. There was no trace of the other male’s scent, now. There’s only Marc, Jake, Steven, you… no one else.

You’re still not pregnant.

You’re still ovulating, though. The moon is at its fullest and brightest. He might not even need the suit. His hand traced your stomach, drawing patterns as you ran your hands through his curls. He softly said your name before propping himself up on his elbows to look you in the eye. He didn’t even have to ask; your legs parted for him immediately when you felt him hardening against your thigh, wrapping around his hips.

“Be gentle,” Steven warned, “We’ve had her all night.”

“She can do it,” Jake whispered, “Hermosa, tan hermosa…”

Marc hesitated, biting his lip. His fingers danced over your stomach nervously. “What is it?” You whispered quietly; he seemed a bit back to himself, more lucid, but you feared one wrong word would send him back into the frenzy he and his alters had been in earlier.

“I’m sorry,” Marc choked out, fighting back tears. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart; you didn’t sign up for any of this shit—“

“Marc,” You ran your thumbs over his cheekbones, brushing away tears he didn’t realize he’d shed. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, I’m fucking you so hard with intentions you agreed to without thinking—“

You cut him off with a light scold. “Marc Spector… don’t you remember this morning?” Marc was, reasonably, confused. In fact, he didn’t remember much of the day. It was a blur of aggression and lust for all three of them. He shook his head. “We were talking about kids,” You caressed his cheek, brow furrowing with concern. “How many we wanted, how we’ll need a bigger house… this is just… a different way of trying.”

“...Trying,” Marc repeated after a second, shocked. He still didn’t remember it. But he trusted you. Now, other fears surfaced, ones he hadn’t thought of in his moon-induced trance. “What if I’m not a good dad? What if I’m a horrible father? What if—“

You cut him off with a passionate kiss. Marc melted against you. Don’t even say it, you thought, you’ll never be like your mother. “You’ll be an amazing father,” You whispered instead. “And I’ll be right there with you every step of the way.” After a moment, you added, “Do… Do you still want to try?”

Marc shifted slightly, licking his lips, before kissing you warmly. “...Yeah. I do.” You wrapped your arms around his neck with a smile, pulling him close. “Steven and Jake are here,” Marc breathed against your ear as he pushed into you; you hissed, walls over-sensitive from being paid so much attention over the course of the night. “Can they watch, pretty girl? Can they watch us make a baby?”

Your frantic nodding made Steven smile; Jake leaned back as if getting comfortable for a movie. Marc entwined your fingers with his as he slowly rutted into you, dragging his cock along your walls painfully slowly before sliding back in and pressing against something that made you see stars. You breathed his name like a mantra, while Marc whispered honeyed words into your ear. “Our kid’s gonna be so beautiful, having a part of you. Can’t think of anyone in the world I’d rather have a baby with, sweetheart; you, only you.” He nuzzled the side of your face, nipping at your jawline as he drew slow circles over your clit.

When you came, you dragged Marc with you over the edge, the pair of you writhing and moaning against each other in the throes of your ecstasy. As you came to, you saw Marc’s beaming smile, eyes glistening with unshed tears. His hand never left your stomach. “I think we did it… I… I think you’re pregnant.”

Marc let out a breathless laugh against your lips, and you laughed with him, hugging him tightly and kissing all over your face. Marc— finally satiated, back to himself, his alters confused and excited— was smiling like you’d never seen before. He was happy. “We just started a family,” You sniffled, shocked.

“Wouldn’t have done it with anyone else,” Marc said sincerely, tired and spent. He kissed you, warmth radiating off of him as he embraced you. “...I love you. I know I don’t say it a lot, and I should… I’m gonna try harder. To give you everything. To give you both everything…” His eyes locked with yours, both gazes holding unshed tears. He kissed you again. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Marc,” You said through your tears, and you fell asleep happy and entangled together under the light of the moon.

Slowly, pointedly, you turned to glare over your shoulder at Marc, who sat at the dinner table, feigning innocence. “Marc…” You warned.

“What? I’m not doing anything.”

“Not yet.”

“You say that as if I’m known to do something.”

“Marc?” You said, half-turning around, “I learned long ago that I can never trust you with cookie dough.”

The sound of breaking glass in the next room made you both lunge frantically, tripping over yourselves, chairs, and each other as you rushed for the source of the sound. By the time you got there, there was only a little tiny version of Moon Knight, as if he’d been shrunk, dusting himself off as he stood to face you both, clearly having jumped off the couch in an attempt to “fly.”

You both heaved a sigh of exasperation toward your three-year-old son. “Nico,” Marc scolded lightly, coming forward to kneel in front of him. “What’ve we told you, buddy? You’re gonna get yourself hurt. I’ll fly with you, okay? But when you’re older, I promise. Are you hurt?”

Nico shook his little masked head. “No, Daddy. I bumped the vase.” He pointed accusingly toward the shattered glass and remains of flowers. Marc checked him over anyway before holding him gently by the shoulders. “Don’t do that again, okay?” Nico nodded, lowering his head, and Marc added, “Hey. I’m not angry. I just don’t want you getting hurt. I could never be angry at you. Ever. Okay?” He pulled Nico in for a tender embrace.

You watched it all from the doorway with a smile. Nico Randall Spector (Lockley-Grant, but you couldn’t officially put that on any of his birth certificates or documents without causing a whole conundrum of confusion) was every bit like his father. The same hair, same eyes, and same hidden chaotic energy. “Just like his father…”

Marc shot you a teasing glare. “Hey. I’ve never jumped off the couch.”

“So I’m just supposed to pretend we’ve never had Nerf battles, then?” You countered swiftly.

Marc scoffed as he stood with Nico in his arms. “I’ve never jumped off the couch. Have I ever jumped off the couch?” He turned to confirm with your son, who reluctantly nodded; Marc immediately began to tickle him. “Little traitor! I’ve never jumped off the couch! How dare you!”

Only when Nico was nearly out of breath did Marc stop, smiling as he pressed his forehead to his much smaller one. Nico hugged him tight enough to probably choke him, but Marc didn’t care; he gave him a kiss on the cheek before setting him down. “Okay— go change. It’s almost time for dinner.”

“Okay!” Nico started to hurry away; you called after him, “Need any help, Moon Knight?”

“No thank you,” Came his little voice; Jake’s cat, Taco, appeared out from underneath the couch and padded silently after him.

You and Marc watched your son disappear into his room fondly; you’d never seen Marc smile like that until he was born. He unfolded his arms and came over to loosely put his arms around your waist. “Thought you were supposed to be watching him while I finished up.”

“Your fault for distracting me with the cookie dough,” Marc retorted childishly, then added with a wink, “And those damn jeans.”

“Hush,” You whispered.

Marc smiled again, pressing a kiss to your temple as his hand fell to splay over your stomach. “Maybe his sister will keep him in line when she gets here.”

You tapped his nose with the spoon you’d been holding. He balked and blinked rapidly. “Hey. That doesn’t even have any dough on it!” Reduced to giggling messes, Marc held you tightly against him and closed his eyes, savoring the closeness.

Dinner was one of those rare moments of domestic bliss; Nico made a ridiculous mess, but all three alters were present, switching who was fronting in order to spend time with their expecting wife and son— and to help clean up. The night ended with Marc being the only one who remained awake after a movie, as you were tucked in on one side of him, his arm around you and his hand over your stomach, and Nico under the other arm. Marc smiled to himself, giving you each a kiss.

“Love you guys. With all my heart.”

Thanks for reading!

Tags: @dameronsknight @sylkisdagger @atzlena @gucciboots @pastel-0-princess @rosaren2498 @love-on-the-murder-scene @wintergirlsoilder2 @blackcat-midnight-thatsme @multifandomsw @bookloverfilmoholic @khaotic-kris @hb8301 @soggumm @simonsbluee @bobfloydsgf @bluestuesday @magnet-girl @rosellacwrites @dweeb-central @ilymorepls @drwhofangirl1963 @loonymagizoologist @auszimbo @tealrivers @later-gators12 @izbelross @xcatnapsx @child-of-the-moon-gods @djarinsgirl27 @sokoviansorceress @eerievixen @cold-buffet-ham @upbeat-cascade @stark-kirk-rogers-grant-blog @candydancey @rqmanoff @jakelcckley @sharin4readers @lovely-cryptid @marc-spectorr @rmoonstoner @oscarisaacsspit @moonknightyws @hopefulfangirl24 @local-mr-frog @dawnsutopia @hot-mess-express1 @infinitelyforgotten

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #marc spector x reader smut #steven grant x reader smut #jake lockley x reader smut #oscar isaac #oscar isaac hernandez estrada

3K notes · View notes

stuniolvs · 3 months

Note

Heyy I came across your page and I have a request can you do like one where Chris is dating Y/N but they get it a fight and Chris makes it up to her (Smut or not idc)

arguments + cats

hey! thank you for your request but this is a little different from your request but it still follows the same line. i hope you enjoy and please leave more requests!

chris has his license in this!

the second chris woke up he felt like shit.

his head was pounding and his nose was stuffy and you weren’t next to him.

he reluctantly rolled out of bed and changed into actual clothes because he had to go to 5 different meetings today, 2 for his and his brother's channel, 2 for his personal brand, and one for the podcast. which meant he also wouldn’t see you all day.

when he walked into the kitchen he noticed it was a mess which immediately added onto his stress levels so he began cleaning up everything and about halfway through cleaning his body starts aching from whatever sickness he had but her continued anyway.

he wakes up his brothers and they go on their way.

the first two meetings went good but when it came to the ones for his brand everything went to shit. they we bombarding him with all this information and he didn’t understand what any of it meant and when he tried asking questions they would just cut him off.

he left his fourth meeting with his shoulders slouched feeling a million times worse.

matt drives him and nick to their last meeting and they all go in.

chris is silent for the whole meeting, zoned out almost feeling like he was going to pass out.

they leave the final meeting and chris immediately rushes into his room. pulling open his computer and starts brainstorming ideas for his brand.

you were so exited to see chris after not seeing him for over 24 hours so you enter the triplets shared house with a smile on your face.

“hey y/n just so you know chris is acting really weird i this he’s sick or something but just warning you.” nick tells me from the couch. i grow concerned as i nod.

i walk down to chris’ room and i open the door seeing him sitting at his desk typing aggressively. “hey baby, what’s-"

“god can you just shut the fuck up! im trying to focus and all you ever do is talk! get away from me!”

you finally take a look at his appearance. his nose is red, his hair is pulled in every direction and his eyes are bloodshot and glossed over.

you turn around and exit his room your eyes filling with tears as you leave his house.

“fuck” chris whispers as tears fill his eyes. he doesn’t even know why he just yelled. but all the stress from today built up behind a dam and it had suddenly burst the second he saw the one thing he needed.

he sits up quickly making him dizzy he grips onto the edge of his desk. grabbing the minivan keys and leaving the house.

he stops at the flower stand he regularly visits and picks up a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

he drives to your apartment and knocks at the door. a couple seconds later you open the door wearing his t-shirt and shorts.

he immediately start “i'm so sorry ma. i’ve had a very stressful day and i think im sick. and i wanted to see you all day and the second i saw you i took it out on you. im-“ you cut him off “chris, baby its okay i know you weren’t actually mad next time can you just talk to me please?” you reply “i promise” he says handing you the flowers, you blush and walk further into your apartment putting the flowers in a vase. chris picks up your cat (who hates him but he loves her)

“can we go back to your place i hate it here?” “sure, im taking the cat tho.” he replies taking the cat down to his car, you following behind.

“will you drive? i feel dizzy.” he asks “sure baby lean your seat back” he kisses your cheek. you drive back to his place but before you exit the car he asks “will you move in with me? i wanna wake up to you next to me in the morning.” he turns to you “of course. can my cat come?"

“yes ma. the cat can come."

chris rushes out of the car, into his house, up the stairs "meet y'all’s new roommate!” he shouts to his brothers holding up your cat.

“chris.” you roll your eyes at him “this is exactly why she hates you."

#sturniolo triplets x reader #sturniolo triplets imagines #sturniolo triplets imagine #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo imagines #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo imagines #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut

233 notes · View notes

babyhatesreality · 1 year

Note

Jellybean seems like an important part of the little ones life so I wonder what they would do if her stuffy gets lost? ☀️🧡

HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE

Sooooooo....I'm guessing this ask was made hoping for some major angst, some major tears, and a lot of fluff to even it all out.

My brain thinks different, y'all. Sorry. Hope you enjoy it anyways. I also wanted to make this in-line with another one of my stories, I'm pretty happy with how it fits the world. Thank you for the lovely ask and the opportunity to connect dots <3 <3 <3

*Also- thank you all for your patience- it's been a very turbulent couple of weeks. Hoping to get back into the swing of writing. Thank you!

Careful of your Catchphrase

Pairing: Daddy!Stucky x little f!reader

Warnings: DDLG (SSC), f! reader, reader is named but name scarcely used, pet names, language, touch of paranoid Papa, super overly dramatic reader (like....SO dramatic ugh), reader feeling angsty (to put it lightly), reader thinks bunny has been kidnapped, bless-their-heart-oh-so-dumb men, fluffity fluff fluff fluff.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated.

Steve and Bucky looked at each other, eyes locked in an intense gaze, then simultaneously breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"I can't believe we pulled it off," Steve said, his lungs beginning to work again properly.

"Shit. Why did that scare me more than any other field agent assignment in recent history?" Bucky grumbled, shaking his head.

"Because you love the target this time," Steve replied back with a relieved grin, stroking his husband's cheek affectionately. He felt almost triumphant in their success.

You'd been with them for nearly two months now, having passed your probation period and been given the official blessing. It had been bliss- fantastic, fun, and full of love. Lots of cuddles, lots of silly and sweet play, lots and lots of cookies, all the time.

Then they got a whiff of Jellybean, your most favorite stuffie in the world.

You dragged that bunny everywhere you were allowed to. She slept in your arms at night, she went to all the parties and playdates and picnics, and she was both an excellent tea party companion and a brave soldier in Daddy's army (bunnies are versatile like that).

But just yesterday, you'd been snuggling on Steve's lap while he worked at his desk, Jellybean cuddled close to you. You were feeling littler than normal, and Steve was happy to indulge you. But having that stuffie practically right under his nose made him suddenly aware of just how much dirt, sweat, and who knows what else was lingering in her soft fur. And when you brought Jellybean's ear to your mouth to suck on, Steve nearly had an nervous breakdown. And then, so did you when they tried to take her from you to wash her.

You were in a littler mindset and didn't understand what was happening, couldn't understand their gentle explanations. All you knew was that you WERE NOT letting that bunny go for anything. It had been a rough couple hours with a lot of tears (which freaked them both out) before they gave up, determined to try again tomorrow.

You were about where you normally were regression-wise today, but you still had lingering anxiety about your beloved Jellybean, so she was firmly in your grasp from the moment you woke up. Steve was losing his mind, freaking himself out with the germs and diseases that he'd conjured up in his mind. He became desperate. Not a good look.

They'd waited until they finally got you down for a nap, then they struck. Moving with the precision of two super soldiers in the Temple of Doom, they'd managed to extract Jellybean from under your arm while you were deeply asleep and replace her with Pipsqueak, your second favorite stuffie (who was going to be due for the same treatment soon, but one step at a time). They'd snuck back out, not making a sound, and had gotten Jellybean into the wash on the gentle cycle. The laundry room door was shut so you wouldn't hear.

Success!

*****************************************************

You woke up about twenty minutes later. Normally, you slept for about an hour during nap time, but...something was off. Something felt wrong. And you recognized it the second you looked down. Jellybean wasn't in your arms. On on your bed. Or on the floor. Or in the room.

Disaster!

You launched yourself from your bed, tearing into the living room where Daddy and Papa were watching some movie. They both sat bolt upright when you catapulted yourself into the room, shocked that you were up.

"Baby, what's wrong??" Steve asked, his eyes wide with alarm. Bucky's eyes darted around the room, instantly on the alert for danger.

"JELLYBEAN!!!" was all you could wail before crumpling onto the floor in a heap, sobbing. You felt strong arms pick you up and cradle you, and a set of fingers combing through your hair.

"Sshh, sshh, it's okay Babygirl," Bucky whispered, trying to calm you down.

"NOT OKAY!! Jellybean is GONE!!" you cried into Bucky's teeshirt.

"Oh, honey, she's not gone, she's just taking a little bath right now."

Your tears instantly stopped at Papa's words. You twisted your head to look at him. "She takin' a baf?" you asked, trying to make it all make sense. Papa nodded. You whipped around back to Bucky, and began pushing against his chest. "Down!!"

"Now, hold on a minute, Trouble..."

"DOWN!!"

"Hey, I know you're upset, but-"

"DOWNDOWNDOWNDOWNDOWN!!!!!!!!!"

Completely shocked at his normally well-behaved little girl's tantrum, Bucky's only working instinct was to give you what you wanted. He set you down quickly and you took off for the bathroom. They exchanged a quick look of panic before following you. Just as they were getting to the bathroom door, you nearly barreled them over tearing out of the room towards the other bathroom. They tried calling after you, but you were on a mission and NOTHING was going to stop you.

"I've never seen her freak out like this before," Bucky muttered to Steve while they followed your frantic footsteps.

"I know," Steve whispered back, his anxiety going through the roof. "I had no idea she was going to take it this way. What do we do?"

"Hell if I know." They both stopped talking as you threw yourself back into the hallway, skidding to a halt right in front of them, your eyes crazed.

"She not in the bafroom!!" you shrieked in an accusatory tone. "You said she was takin' a baf!" Before they could even inhale to try to answer you, a brilliant idea came to you. "She YITTLE! She take baf in da sink!!" And you were running like your feet were on fire to the kitchen sink. You looked- and she wasn't there either.

Bucky and Steve caught up to you as you were pacing, thinking so hard you looked like you were trying to solve world hunger. "She can't take baf in dishwasher or washin' machine- she dwown in dere..." you mused to yourself. You didn't see the look of pure horror that Steve and Bucky exchanged. If you realized that they put your precious bunny in the washing machine and drowned her, you would have a major meltdown, or worse- never forgive them. Their attentions jerked back to you as you stopped pacing.

"She been kidnapped!!" you gasped in horror, coming to the only logical conclusion left to you.

"Oh, baby, she's not-"

"JARVIS!!!" you screamed at the top of your lungs to the AI, making Steve and Bucky wince. "NEED TO TALK TO EVERYONE, NOW!!"

"As you wish, Princess."

"No, no, JARVIS, you don't need to-"

"A direct line to the team is open, Princess."

You took the biggest breath you could, and screamed with all your might.

"AVENGERS ASSEMBLE!!!!!!!!!!!"

Steve and Bucky just stood there frozen in shock, jaws on the floor, dumbfounded at your battle cry. They couldn't even find the words to respond.

The silence didn't last for long.

Suddenly, an almighty crash shook the entire apartment. Steve dove for you, his protective instinct taking over, as Bucky jumped in front of both of you. Before you even realized what really happened, you heard loud footsteps thundering down the hallway.

"NONE SHALL SURVIVE THAT HAVE CAUSED HARM TO THIS FAMILY!" Thor roared, dressed in full battle gear, charging into the living room, breathing hard and wielding Mjolnir. He whipped his head around, hammer raised, surveying the territory. When he only found Steve and Bucky frozen in shock and confusion with you desperately squirming to get out of Steve's arms, he lowered his hammer and joined in the looks of confusion. "I...think I may have acted in earnest," he said sheepishly.

"NO!" you wailed, thrashing with all your might. "I need you Unca Thor!! Jellybean been KIDNAPPED!!!"

"Jelly...bean? Someone has taken your colorful sugar candies that are shaped like kidneys?"

"No, Jellybean is my bunny!! She my best friend in da whole world and she GONE!!" you yelled as you wildly twisted in Steve's arms. He finally unlocked his frozen limbs and set you down, and you immediately made a mad dash right for Thor. "We gotta find her!!!"

Thor's confused gaze slowly flicked up to Steve and Bucky. They both frantically pantomimed that the bunny was in the washing machine. Thor nodded in relieved understanding, before smiling down on you. "Not to worry, young one, it seems as though your Jellybean is-"

He suddenly cut himself off when Steve and Bucky wildly shook their heads for him to stop, then silently indicated that you would lose your mind if you knew. Thor stared at them so long with such confusion that you turned around to see what was going on. Bucky immediately started staring around the room, the walls suddenly the most interesting thing he'd ever seen, while Steve gave you one of his hearty Captain America everything-is-fine salutes. You looked at them curiously, but then turned your attention back to Thor. Bucky and Steve frantically resumed their charades, finally making Thor understand that under no circumstances should you be informed of where Jellybean actually was.

"Jellybean is what, Unca Thor?" you asked desperately.

"...Jellybean has...definitely been kidnapped," he finished lamely, unable to come up with another excuse on the fly as Steve facepalmed and Bucky inaudibly groaned. "But I'm sure she'll be returned in...an hour or so?"

Before you could question that, Tony came charging into the room. "Squirt, what's the problem?" he said in a rush, locking eyes with you a split second before taking in the rest of the room and the three other dumbfounded men. His eyebrows constricted as he tried to make sense of the scene. You quickly explained the horrors of your missing bunny, and his eyebrows slowly crept into his hairline as you tripped over your words in your distress. After another round of charades behind your back, Tony was up to speed. He stood up straight, trying to think his way around this one, but only came up with one thing.

"I assume that's why there's a Thor-sized hole in the wall where your front door used to be?" he asked Steve, who turned to Thor in exasperation.

"I was in earnest," Thor explained, shrugging. You stomped your feet, frustrated.

"Unca Tony, we gotta get Jellybean back! I need the 'Vengers to help me!" you pleaded.

"Uhhhh...okay squirt, it's okay," he said, thinking about how Peter would react if his favorite toy went missing. "Why don't we...make sure that she's not in the apartment first? Huh? That's a good idea, right? Of course it is, let's go."

"No, I already look everywhere! She not here!!" you insisted before charging over to him, and holding your arms up. He instantly picked you up, assuming that you wanted comfort, but instead you started pushing on his chest.

"Whatcha doing, honey?" he asked, confused and curious.

"Where's your button that makes your suit go on??" you grumbled as you punched all over his chest. "I KNOW it here somewhere." He would have snickered had you not clearly been so upset.

"I don't think I'm going to need my suit here, kiddo." He nodded sanctimoniously when you gasped in agreement.

"You right! You need money!" He stopped nodding. "In case da kidnappers want me to pay for Jellybean! Can I have a million dollars?"

Tony slow burn glared at Steve. "What the hell are you two letting her watch?" he muttered as they stared at you, once again shocked. You shook your head.

"No, Unca Tony! 'Member you said to Unca Bruce dat you wouldn't pay kidnappers after Pietro broke your record thingy. But dis different. I need a million dollars please." It was Bucky and Steve's turn to glare at Tony, who turned a deep red and set you down quickly.

"Moving right along," he said after clearing his throat. That's when Natasha and Clint came strolling in. Natasha looked around at all the craziness calmly.

"So. What seems to be the trouble here?" she asked you kindly, but the rest of the team could see the hints of the smirk on her lips.

"Aunt Nat, Jellybean is gone!" you wailed, running over to her. "She been kidnapped and I can't find her and the 'Vengers gotta find her please!"

Natasha leaned down just a bit and smoothed your hair away from your face. "Hold on there, honey bunny," she said in her calmest voice. "Take a deep breath for me, okay?" You nodded tearfully, but did as she asked. "Good girl," she praised soothingly. "Tell you what. Can Uncle Clint get you some juice while I talk to your daddies for a minute?"

"But...but we gotta find Jellybean!" you said, your breath catching as you started to get worked up again. "Gotta find her, please!!"

"And we will, I promise," she said, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "But I think I need to get some information before we start looking, okay? Can you be a big girl and let Uncle Clint get you some juice please? Then we'll find her, I promise," After another moment and another big breath, you nodded.

"Atta girl," Clint said, scooping you up and taking you to the kitchen. You tearfully explained the whole saga to him while he sat you down on the kitchen island and poured you a sippy cup full of apple juice, nodding seriously as you explained everything. He knew all too well the intense emotions that came with regression, especially when it came to favorite stuffies, and how important it was for caregivers to take your feelings seriously. He was also trying to distract you from the hisses and the whispers of the violent verbal battle happening in the living room behind you.

Your head whipped around when you heard Bucky hiss loudly "Natasha, NO," as Aunt Natasha walked briskly into the kitchen. She gently nudged Clint out of the way and stood in front of you.

"We go find Jellybean now?" you asked her hopefully, your sippy cup still clutched in your hands.

"Jellybean is just fine, sweetheart," she said reassuringly. Your eyes became as round as saucers as you took in her meaning.

"You know where Jellybean is?!" you shrieked, before attempting to launch yourself off the island. Aunt Nat was just as quick as Papa was when you were trying to escape bedtime. She popped you onto her hip and started walking towards the laundry room with 4 anxious and confused men and one snickering one in tow.

"I do know where she is, and she's perfectly okay," Natasha said gently, bouncing you a bit. "I'm going to take you to see her."

"Natasha, don't," Steve said, his teeth gritted, his tone between a command and a plea. You looked over her shoulder at your daddies who appeared to be sweating bullets, but you didn't understand why.

Natasha completely ignored them and marched right into the laundry room, you still firmly on her hip. She pointed to the spinning laundry behind the front loader's door. "Jellybean is right there, baby. She's taking a bath, just like your daddies said she was."

Your eyes filled with tears. "But...but she...what if she dwown?" you asked fearfully, looking at Natasha with large, pleading, watery eyes as the rest of the team, crowded in the doorway, all held their breath in fear.

Natasha brushed your hair away from your eyes again and rubbed her nose against yours. "She won't drown, sweetheart. This is how furry friends take baths. They're special like that. They can breathe just fine in the washing machine, and then after they dry they smell so nice and fresh and clean- just like you do after you take your bath!" Steve and Bucky felt their blood turn to ice in terror, waiting for what they were sure was going to be another meltdown from you.

"Jellybean okay?" you asked again, your eyes darting to the window and back to hers.

"Jellybean is okay, I promise. You wanna see?" Natasha put you down and knelt in front of the window. "It's okay, I promise. Come look," she encouraged. You carefully sat down on the floor next to her, still not sure about this. You suddenly saw hint of soft grey fur slide past the window- that was her!!

You slapped your little hands on the window, desperate for another look at your bunny. "Aunt Nat, you SURE she's okay?" you asked again.

"Very sure. In fact, Buttons took a bath just like this a couple days ago, and Wanda had her yesterday, remember?" Natasha said. "Same thing will happen with Jellybean. She'll be just fine." You thought about it- Wanda did have Buttons the Bear with her last night! And she had been okay!

"Oh. Okay den," you said, suddenly calm as could be. You plopped back down on your butt, scootching backwards to lean up against the wall. "I wait here for her baf to be done. Tank you, Aunt Nat!" You casually sipped on your juice as Steve and Bucky's jaws hit the floor again. How the hell were you so calm now, when five seconds ago you were all headed for World War Three?!

Natasha chuckled and gave you a kiss on the top of your head before turning around and walking out of the room. All the men crowded in the doorway parted to let her pass, except Clint, who had collapsed against the wall, silently laughing at the others' dumbfounded expressions. Natasha turned back to them.

"You all are idiots," she said simply with a smile, before turning and walking out of the Thor shaped hole in the front wall while Clint howled with laughter.

#daddy!stucky x little reader #daddy!stucky #daddy stucky #daddy stucky x little reader #daddy!bucky #daddy!bucky x little!reader #daddy bucky #daddy bucky x little reader #daddy!steve #daddy!steve rogers #daddy!steve rogers x little #daddy!steve x little!reader #daddy steve #daddy steve x little reader

649 notes · View notes

silverofthunder · 16 days

Text

☆ get well soon ☆

Cardinal Copia x GN Reader

summary: ”Don’t worry, I’ll survive.”

content: 800+ words, fluff, romance, mild hurt/comfort, SFW

Something short & sweet with Cardinal. This idea was supposed to be a part of another fic but then I decided to write a separate fic. A good excuse to write more about Cardi. 😊 Enjoy!

It was one of those unfortunate mornings when you woke up with a soar throat, stuffy nose and feeling hot and uncomfortable. With a groan you turned around, smiling tiredly as you see Cardinal still asleep beside you, mouth hanging slightly open, the other side of his face tightly pressed against the pillow. He looked cute and you couldn’t resist moving your hand to caress his jawline.

You had hoped he wouldn’t wake up but soon he stirred awake, blinking.

”G’morning, amore,” he mumbled, smiling.

”Morning,” you said, voice so gruff, and a frown formed on Cardinal’s face and his hand moved up to your forehead.

”You certainly have a fever,” he stated and you nod. Cardinal looked at you with a mix of worry and empathy.

”Don’t worry, I’ll survive,” you said, taking a hold of Cardinal’s hand. He gave you a small smile, squeezing your hand and leaning in to place a kiss on your forehead.

”Do you need anything?”

With a sigh, you rolled to lay on your bad, your whole body feeling so heavy. All you wanted was basically to just stay in bed but at the same time your mouth felt so dry and your stomach needed at least a tiny bit of food.

”Some tea would be nice. And maybe pancakes if there’s still left of those.”

”Coming right up,” Cardinal said, scrambling off the bed and pulling some clothes on. You watched his form, your tired mind taking all the pleasure it could from the sight before he left the bedroom, the door closing after him. You swallowed, your throat feeling like sandpaper, and you reached for the nightstand drawer to search for some tissues. When you found them, you lifted the package up on the nightstand and took a tissue out, bringing it to your nose and blowing to ease the stuffiness. It helped a little but you knew it would soon be stuffed again.

Reluctantly you threw the blankets off of you and rose up, slowly making your way to the bathroom to throw the used tissue away and wash your hands and face. By the time you returned to the bed, you felt even more exhausted, so you just laid down and pulled the blankets over you, enjoying their comfortable warmth.

When Cardinal finally returned, you were already dozing off but forced yourself to open your eyes and move into a sitting position.

”Here we go, tea and pancakes as you ordered, my love,” Cardinal said, carefully setting the tray in front of you. You smiled at him and took the tea cup, taking a small sip from the hot liquid. You didn’t taste much of it but at least it eased the soreness of you throat and you let out a content sigh.

Cardinal climbed back on bed, settling himself beside you as you put the tea cup on the tray and went for the pancakes. There was also added some maple leaf suryp which you happened to love and it made your mouth water. As you munched the pancake, you could feel Cardinal’s gaze on you, and you turned your head to look at him.

”What?” you asked, mouth full of pancake. Cardinal smiled, amused, reaching his hand out to poke your nose.

”You’re cute.”

You raised your brow, thinking for a moment before sticking out your tongue, and earned that way a light chuckle from Cardinal. If you had had more energy you would have continued the teasing but now you just shook your head, a small smile passing your lips as Cardinal gently caressed the side of your face. His eyes were full of empathy and it made you feel grateful, your heart swelling in your chest.

Silence fell between you soon and you took your time finishing the pancakes and tea, then setting the tray aside with Cardinal’s help as your arms felt so heavy you didn’t trust your grip to be strong enough. You waited when Cardinal had laid down on his back and used the opportunity to snuggle against him, resting your head on his chest, his other arm snaking around you.

”Feeling better?” Cardinal softly asked, placing kisses on top of your head, his mustache lightly tickling you and making you squirm a bit.

You hummed, eyes closing as the exhaustion was now properly kicking in.

”Yes, still tired, though,” you said quietly, slowly massaging the softness of Cardinal’s belly. Cardinal’s hold of you tightened for a brief moment and then he used his free hand to pull the blankets fully on top of you both, its warmth mingling with the warmth Cardinal’s body offered and you sighed in satisfaction. You knew that at some point it would probably get too hot but right now in your flu-haze you didn’t bother to care.

Cardinal whispered something in Italian and it and the steady sound of his heart beat were the last things you heard before you drifted into a sleep with a smile on your lips.

#cardinal copia x reader #ghost band fic #ghost band fanfic #jen writes fics

58 notes · View notes

lilian-writes-sins · 11 months

Text

𝑵𝒆𝒘 𝑩𝒖𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝑻𝒐𝒘𝒏 PROLOGUE

“𝐼𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒—

★ pairing: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir x Reader

★ p.o.v: 3ʳᵈ person

★ prologue summary: After months of unsuccessfully trying to find Hawkmoth’s identity, Marinette Dupain-Cheng is faced with a different kind of challenge: moving house halfway across the world. Stressed about her situation, both as Marinette and as Ladybug, she puts off telling everyone the news. On her final day in Paris, she visits Master Fu, the holder of the Miracle Box, and gives back the Ladybug Miraculous entrusted to her. With a final goodbye to her old life, the Dupain-Cheng family leaves for New York, starting a new chapter in their lives.

★ tags: marinette leaves; weird magic headcanons to explain things; mentions of an Akuma attack

★ word count: 1,734

MASTERLIST

This day couldn’t have started better for Marinette Dupain-Cheng; for once, she wasn’t late for school, waking up earlier than her alarm, in fact. She didn’t rush her morning routine, there were no accidents consisting of tripping down the stairs or spilling food, and the girl was on her way to school in no time.

The school day was also quite nice, not as full of mishaps as it usually is. ‘It truly is miraculous!’ Marinette thought to herself as she walked across the street to her home, ‘Even Chloé didn’t bother me, actually, that was kind of weird’. The girl pushed open the front door to her home and was immediately greeted by her loving parents. It seemed like they were waiting for her.

“Hey mom! Hey dad! What’s up?” Marinette asked.

“Hi, honey, me and your father need to talk to you. You’re not in trouble, of course, but it is quite urgent. Here, let’s sit down,” Sabine, Marinette’s mother, gently stated.

The family goes to sit at their dining table. The young girl’s thoughts were running wild, and her hands were growing slightly cold and shaky.

“So… what is it?”

“… Well, ahem, your mother and I got a business offer that would help us move up in the world!” Tom replied.

“Oh, well, that’s great, I don’t see a problem with it!” Marinette congratulated her parents, feeling elated for them.

“Yes, it is great, but... we’ll have to move to the United States if we take this offer,” the girl’s mother finally spit out.

Time seemed to stop for a second, but for Marinette, that second felt like an eternity. She stood frozen in her seat, staring almost past her parents sitting in front of her. An uncomfortable, stuffy silence passed before Marinette stood up, her chair almost falling over.

“But... but we can’t just leave! What about ME? What will I do when we move? I only have two years of school left; all my friends are here; and- and you’re telling me that I’ll just have to start over?” The girl felt her throat closing, unshed tears pooling in her eyes, and various thoughts swirling through her mind.

‘What about Ladybug? What will happen to Paris when she’s gone? Oh god, Chat Noir will be powerless against Hawkmoth all on his own!’ Marinette ran upstairs to her room, ignoring the worried shouts of her parents, who were pleading for her to come back.

The teen girl slammed her attic door shut and fell face first on her sofa, sobbing loudly. Tikki flew out of her bag, worried about her holder.

“Please don’t cry, Marinette! Everything’s going to work out!” the kwami tried to comfort her.

“But it won’t, Tikki! Everything’s turned upside down so suddenly, and I just can’t deal with it right now! I don’t even want to THINK about what to do about Ladybug! I don’t want to give you up, but there’ll be no other choice…” Marinette was inconsolable at the moment, so the kwami suggested the two get some rest.

The next morning, Marinette woke up late, silently thanked her good fortune that it was a Saturday, and headed downstairs to freshen up, trying to relieve her swollen eyes and face her parents.

“Good morning, honey. Are you feeling better today?” her mother asked gently.

“Morning, mom, yeah... I’m better,” the teen responded, searching through the cupboards for something to eat. “I mulled it over and... I’m fine with it. Obviously, it’s a big change, but if it’s going to make you and dad happy, then let’s do it!” Marinette smiled brightly. Just then, a thought popped into her head, “Uhm, mom? When exactly are we moving?”

“Oh! Well, see, this was struck upon us quite suddenly, and we ourselves needed a bit of time to process it... so, we have a bit over a week to move,” her father coughed out quickly, coming into the room.

“…WHAT? But- but that’s such a short amount of time!” the girl shouted, shocked by the news, though she deflated just as swiftly, “I would’ve thought we had more time, not- not a week...”

“Well, don’t you worry,” Marinette’s father rubbed her shoulder reassuringly, “a week is quite enough time if we start now!”

That week, the teen girl didn’t know how to break the news to her friends, especially Alya. She kept putting it off until her very last day of school. Marinette rushed to class on Friday with a box of macarons her dad had made and a few hand-crafted bracelets and charms in hand. She tripped a few times along the way but made it to class just in time.

The school day was quite ordinary, though a bit chilly from the crisp early December air. As school ended, she broke the news to her friends. Tears were shed, lungs were nearly crushed from tight embraces, and heartfelt goodbyes were shared. Alya, Nino and Adrien could only watch sadly as their friend left for home.

Unfortunately, her last day in Paris was also the same day Hawkmoth decided to send out one of his Akumas to terrorize the city — a deranged farewell of sorts, the girl pondered as she ran for cover. She swiftly transformed into Ladybug and, with the help of Chat Noir, took down the villain in no time.

The two heroes were about to part ways. The heroine asked her partner if he could meet her on top of the Eiffel Tower after re-transforming. Of course, the feline-themed hero eagerly agreed. As they met up, Chat looked at his lady with anticipation, but then she broke the news.

“…Chaton… I don’t- I have... to leave Paris, and I don’t think I will ever return.” Ladybug couldn’t look her partner in the eyes, not ready to see the expression on his face.

Chat Noir looked like he was about to break down, but he calmed himself and went to comfort his distressed friend. The teen boy promised her to continue protecting their beloved city and become partners with the next Ladybug Miraculous holder.

And so, the pair of heroes, partners, and friends hugged and bumped their fists together before parting ways for the last time.

“Pound it!”

The heroine leapt across the rooftops, intent on heading home, before remembering one more person she had to visit, perhaps the most important one. Swiftly changing directions, Marinette hid behind a dumpster in an empty alleyway, then walked the rest of the way to Master Fu’s residence, the cold air nipping at the apples of her cheeks. The teen girl opened the door and saw Wang Fu with his back turned before he addressed her.

“Hello, Marinette, what brings you here today?” asked Master Fu.

The girl stood in the doorway with Tikki by her side, unsure of how to break the news to him. She went to stand by him, and the old man turned to face her as she spoke.

“Uhm… Master, I should’ve probably told you this earlier, but... I- I’m leaving Paris permanently.”

“My, that is of importance...” Fu replied, walking away from Marinette, looking through his dresser, opening a couple of drawers, searching for something unknown to her, “You do understand that you cannot take the Miraculous with you, right?”

“Aha!” It seems that he found whatever he was looking for.

“Of course, Master, I’ve accepted it as much as I could,” the girl replied, confused but not questioning him.

“Alright, then, to sever the soul ties between you and Tikki, you must take this.” As he spoke, he handed her a small fabric bag.

Marinette stood there, eyebrows raised, confused out of her mind, wondering just what the hell was inside. Master Fu noticed her gaze.

“This bag contains a secret blend of herbs and spices to help you recover quickly from the aftermath of the separation. Though it is not lethal, all holders feel as if they have lost a piece of themselves. The bond between a holder and their Kwami hurts more or less, depending on your connection.”

“Will I still be able to remember any of this?” Marinette asked.

“Yes, you will. Only the memories will become murky as time goes on. You will not remember secret information, only a blurry picture,” the elder replied.

“…oh…”

Master Fu handed her a cup of steaming liquid, presumably the very herbs he had been talking about.

“Drink up, this will help you reduce most of the symptoms in advance.”

Marinette did as instructed, gulping down the hot liquid, her throat confused by the oddly tropical yet spicy and sour blend of flavors. After setting the cup aside with a sigh, the girl turned to face a strangely quiet Tikki.

The pair looked at each other, committing themselves to memory for what was definitely the last time. All the time they had spent bonding was gone so suddenly, as if someone had pulled the brakes at the last possible second. The little creature gave in first, flying over to Marinette’s face and hugging her as far as her little limbs could let her. The girl embraced her back almost instantly, her eyes welling up with tears.

“I’ll miss you so, so much, Tikki...”

“I will miss you too, Marinette, you will always be one of my favorite holders.”

Shaky hands reached up to the earrings — such unsuspecting little jewels, yet they held so much power within them. The girl removed the backings from the rest of the earrings and watched as her beloved friend disappeared into them with a bright pink light, the black studs reverting to their iconic red and black spotted theme. Marinette stared at the two pieces in her palm longingly before handing them over to Master Fu.

“Be very careful over the next few weeks. A splitting headache is the most common symptom after separation. Drink this tea blend twice a day. You should feel better after a month,” he said, putting the Miraculous back into the Miracle Box.

Another farewell was spoken that day, and with it went another piece of her old life.

Early in the morning, the Dupain-Cheng family left for the airport, their home empty and barren, a shell of what it used to be, now left behind. As they boarded the plane, Marinette sat in the window seat and looked out the window.

“Goodbye, Paris… I’ll miss you,” she murmured softly.

MASTERLIST | next chapter

★ author's note: This is a re-write of the original chapter!

★ taglist: @leafanonsforest; @ok-boke; @they2luv1naia; @mytaiyakeylover;

#★.lilian writes #adrien agreste x reader #chat noir x reader #miraculous ladybug x reader #cat noir x reader #mlb x reader #gn!reader

238 notes · View notes

somber-sapphic · 11 months

Note

Hey love I hope you’re doing well!! I have a small request lol today may or may not be my birthday and I was thinking a wandanat story about reader being sick on their bday. I give you totally creative freedom lol I hope you have a great day/night and thank you so much. Love you and your work ❤️❤️

-🎨

Birthday Wish

〖Notes: 🎨! Happy Birthday!! For me today ends in 30 minutes so this is admittedly rushed but I really wanted to give it to you! happy birthday!〗

〖Summary: It's your birthday and you aren't feeling well. You won't let that stop you from having fun.〗

〖Word Count: 1183〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You muffled a cough into your wrist and looked up at the sky, studying the splash of stars illuminating the night. Wanda and Natasha had apparently been planning this for weeks, a big party with your friends followed by a quiet picnic under the stars. You’d never been one to celebrate your birthday, you’d never been one to care, but you’d mentioned in passing one day several months ago and apparently, the girls had latched onto it.

Natasha had done some snooping and dug up past birthdays that you’d had while Wanda used her powers to feel out what you would truly want. They’d thrown you an amazing party with all of the Avengers, complete with everything you could’ve ever wanted. They made up for years of people forgetting your birthday or ignoring it even though they clearly knew it was happening.

The only issue was that now that you were in the cool summer air, laying still, you were noticing that the cold medicine that you had taken earlier was wearing off, leaving you with a stuffy nose and pounding headache.

You were trying to listen to Natasha and Wanda tell you about the constellations (they both knew a weird amount about stars) when you were doing your best to keep your nose from running while also not sniffling too loudly. They had done so much for your birthday, so much to make you feel loved and you didn’t want to ruin it with a stupid little cold.

“Ursa Major means “the great bear” and,” Natasha paused as you flinched against her, muffling a few quick sneezes into your arm. You looked up at her, her face illuminated surprisingly well by the stars, and found a pinched expression with worried eyes.

“Are you okay Y/n?” She asked, reaching over to cup your cheek. You sniffled and nodded, turning to focus back on the sky. You gasped as you saw something dart quickly across the sky, the bright light, and sat up quickly to point at it, enthralled by it.

“A shooting star!” You cleared your throat, alarmed by just how horrible you sounded. It sounded as though you had been forced to drink sand and hadn’t had any water in a decade. To be fair though, that was how your throat felt. Raw, scratchy, and painful. You really needed more medicine.

You bent forward and coughed into your elbow, wishing that the night wasn’t so quiet. All that anyone could hear would be your hacking coughs and gasps for air, not even the peeping of the frogs could distract them. And Wanda loved frogs.

“Woah, now that doesn’t sound good.” The witch remarked, patting your back while you tried to silence the coughs. You turned your head to the side and took a final deep breath, the tickle in your throat finally leaving you alone.

“Sorry guys.” You croaked out, your voice watery and small. There was no hiding anything from them now, even someone who wasn’t a highly trained spy or an empath who also happened to ha magical powers would’ve been able to spot you. A literal child could’ve deduced that you were sick. Hell, even a dog might look at you funny.

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound good. Are you sick? You feel a little warm.” Natasha pointed out, while Wanda noticed how hard you were shaking.

“Baby, you’re shivering. Here, take this.” She shrugged her coat off and slipped it over your shoulders, rubbing your upper arms as you curled into her jacket. It was warm and it smelled like her. Well, it felt like her. You assumed it smelled like her, but you couldn’t smell anything, so that meant absolutely nothing now.

“You’re sick, aren’t you dummy?” Natasha nudged your shoulder with hers, a show of affection behind a joke. You shrugged, pouting slightly.

“It’s my birthday.” You whined, pulling your shirt up to sneeze into it. Wanda rubbed your back right in between your shoulder blades and began to trace little shapes across your spine.

She typically did that while you were laying in bed and she knew that it put you to sleep. When they were on missions you often laid awake, unable to sleep without her beside you.

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you weren’t really sure why. There was no reason for you to be crying. Maybe it was the unconditional love that you had always found yourself lacking. Maybe it was the fact that they had gone to all of this effort and you were ruining it. Maybe it was that now that the cold medicine was wearing off you were actually feeling the effects of the illness and it was making you a little bit miserable.

“Oh, Y/n/n, why are you crying?” Emotion must have been flowing off of you in waves because there was no way that either of them could see you crying, it was too dark. It had to be Wanda, able to feel the emotions that you were feeling. Natasha reached up and cupped your cheek, swiping away a fallen tear.

“M’sorry. I ruined it. You did something so nice and I ruined it, I ruined it.” You sniffled, rubbing your fist under your runny nose, cursing your lack of tissues.

“Y/n. Moy dorogoy. You didn’t ruin anything, we’re just sorry that you’re sick on your birthday. How about instead of sitting out here in the cold, we go cuddle up and watch your favorite movie?” She suggested, tucking a strand of hair back behind your ear.

“Yeah love, we can have popsicles and drink some water.” Wanda, your beautiful amazing witch, trying to make hydrating sound like a romantic activity. You loved them both so, so much. You sneezed into your fist and groaned softly, giving up completely.

“Kay. I guess. M’sorry.” They both told you to stop apologizing while Wanda helped you to your feet and Natasha began to clean up, gathering the picnic blanket and the basket full of half-eaten snacks. She threw the blanket over her shoulder and looped an arm in yours, the witch on your other side following her lead.

“You gonna make it?” The assassin asked, noticing that you were moving slower than you normally would.

“Mhm. I’m just a little dizzy. We’ll be back soon, right?” Wanda sighed and picked you up, ignoring your squeal of protest. You laid stiffly in her arms for a few moments, unsure how to take it, but decided that it really wasn’t that bad.

You put your head down and relaxed, confident that you were safe. You could literally be fighting aliens on a lava-filled planet and you’d feel safe as long as you were with these two women. You coughed quietly, followed by three sneezes which earned ‘bless yous’ and worried looks.

“You’ll feel better soon babe. I promise.” Natasha said softly, holding the door open for Wanda to carry you inside. It was slightly amusing, being carried over the threshold on your birthday. Under different circumstances, it would've been romantic. If not for your damn cold.

193 notes · View notes

slightlystupidhun · 1 year

Text

Comforting My Confrontations-

Pt.1, Pt.2

Summary: Why would Darlin stay when it is made extremely clear they aren’t wanted? Warning: does contain confrontation, feelings and mention of anxiety, and themes of isolation.

Tanker, was a nickname given to them by their pack mates when they were teenagers. With how reckless they always seemed many believed they lived up to the names meaning. Just barreling through everything, waiting for the wall to finally break them.

In light of recent events that went on in the past year and a half, many of their pack mates were proven right. They had, once again, tried to barrel through a problem and put pack members in danger. When they first returned the glares and lectures they got seemed fitting to them. They believed they deserved it. However, no one was looking at what they did, what they meant to do. Sure they were going out to get revenge, but they kept it all a secret to attempt to keep their pack safe. Besides, it’s not like many of them reached out to them anyway.

Tanker had received consistent messages from David and Marie, checking in on them and seeing how they were doing, most of the time without getting a proper reply or even a reply at all. Milo and Asher would give updates on pack drama or inquire about how they were healing. After a while their messages also became less frequent. The other pack members texted Tank maybe once or twice after they left. They didn’t have any right to be reading them the right act about pack being family.

It was about two months since they returned now. The Quinn situation was quieting down but still at the forefront of the packs worries. Tank felt heavy waves of anxiety whenever the vamp was mentioned. The idea of more people being involved and at risk put them on edge. They felt like a heavy burden that David was obligated to.

Luckily for them, they had Sam. He has been their rock and someone who they desperately needed. He understands them and doesn’t press them for answers. He comforts them and gives them time and space. If he was at the pack meeting that Tank was about to walk in on he would hold their hand and walk with them into the stuffy room. They would feel calm and at ease. Unfortunately, he wasn’t their, so they got off their motorcycle and shoved their helmet on the handle bar. Quickly grabbing the bag of sweets they bought for everyone, they took in a deep breath preparing themself for whatever today would bring.

They gripped onto the door knob turning it open before they could back out. They began their walk passed the front room and down the hallway. When they were about to enter the dens meeting room, they froze. They could hear commotion as one of the pack members they didn’t know very well was yelling. He was always one of those members who would glare at them and make snide comments under his breath. The few times Sam went to the meeting, Darlin had to grip his hand tighter just to get him to calm down. Right now, however, he was pulling no punches and they could see him standing just a foot away from David Shaw, yelling at him.

“Their dangerous!” He yelled. “How could you let someone like that be associated with the pack! They are no good and have never been good!”

“That is my job to decide not yours Pablo,” David stared the man down.

“Well it might as well be. I mean, you aren’t using your head here David. Don’t you remember how they were as a teenager?!”

“Hey Man maybe you should calm-“ Asher chimed in as he saw Tank standing in the middle of the doorway to the room.

“ I thought they were getting better but no, they are still fighting with the same crowd and bringing the pack back in danger. They’re tanking our reputation. I don’t get why you insist on having them here. They’re gonna be the death of all of us.”

“PABLO-“ David yelled, anger souring his tone but he was quickly distracted by the sound of a bag dropping to the floor. The entire pack turned to look at the door frame, finally noticing the shifter standing there. They tightened their hands into fists and they pivoted on their heel, walking back down that hallway, bag of sweets now long forgotten. “Tank-“ David called getting no response as they opened the door and slammed it shut.

They felt cold and angry. They were getting better, they knew it, David knew it, Sam knew it. Everyone should know they are nothing like how they were, even three years ago. The audacity of their pack member got to them. Once again they felt isolated, unwanted, and angry. They felt foolish for letting anyone back into their life. They were an idiot for believing they could be a part of the pack.

They pushed their helmet on their head and started their bike when they heard quick footsteps behind them.

“Tank- Tanka hold on-“ it was Milo Greer, probably their best friend in the pack. He ran over beside the bike but was unable to get them to stop. They just wanted out and to leave. They didn’t need another lecture, another reason to forgive and forget. Not wanting to be around anyone from the pack they quickly pulled out and left, leaving Milo in the parking lot behind them.

Their phone was going off with messages and calls. They could feel it in their pocket but didn’t care to check what was happening. They just drove, needing to clear their head. That’s when it started raining. They knew it would come. They could smell it. They loved the rain. It was calming, cool, and rejuvenating. It was something that gave them a sense of nostalgia. The only issue was the rain made riding their bike ten times harder. They were an excellent driver, sure, but the rain made it hard to see and made the roads slippery. Then there was the added pressure of their pack of their mind. They couldn’t focus on one thing or another. It was all colliding with another thing. The rain, the lights, the thoughts, the sounds, the smells. It was overwhelming and they couldn’t breathe. They couldn’t focus, that was until a bright light came out of nowhere, causing them to swerve out of the way to miss it.

They quickly lost control of the bike, and went over the edge of the small hill the road was on. They landed in some shrubbery and just laid there. The wind was knocked out of them and no doubt they were going to be bruised as hell tomorrow. Not to mention that the way the bike tipped over left a burn on their ankle that was now more than likely fractured. They huffed as they got up, propping their bike up examining the work that needs to be done. They realized that they were around two streets from their apartment and their bike wouldn’t make the ride. Deciding to walk back, they gripped the handle bars of their bike and pulled it all the way to their apartment.

They arrived back at their apartment building leaving their bike in the spot they usually parked it. They headed upstairs to their apartment and quickly got into the shower. Once they finished they changed their clothes and grabbed their phone out of their now out of use pant pocket. They saw fourteen calls and thirty one texts from David Shaw 🖕🐺, Thirteen missed calls and twenty eight texts from Ash 🤡🐶, Eight missed calls and eighteen texts from Shorty 🖕🤌, and five missed calls and two texts from Cowboy Batman 🤠🌙. They were about to click on the messages from Sam when there was a knock on their door.

#redacted solaire clan #asher x babe #milo redacted #redacted asmr #redacted audios #redacted darlin #redacted tank #redacted sam #redacted asher #redacted david #redacted sweetheart #redacted shaw pack #redacted asmr asher #redacted asmr david #redactedverse

165 notes · View notes

tulip-simp-artist · 9 months

Text

Too Hot (Cove x Riley)(NSFW)

It's a hot day in Sunset Bird and Cove is a bit bored in the heat. A text and picture from his boyfriend gets him more worked up than it should.

I use they/them pronouns for Riley in this. Takes place during Step 3, so both are 18. You could probably replace Riley's name with your MC's if you want to read to that way.

Warning(s): Idk, Cove masturbating...

Word Count: 1169 (hehehe)

Cove starred up at the ceiling from his spread out position on his bed, which had been stripped of all its blankets. It was far too hot and stuffy to even question laying on the blankets; nevermind being under the blankets. Groaning to himself, Cove reached for his phone. Time was passing slowly and he didn’t have work today either.

On his phone, there were few messages from Miranda and Terri in the group chat. Reading through a few of them, it didn’t seem like anything Cove needed to respond to immediately. He moved on to his private messages with Riley, smiling to himself just seeing Riley’s name in his contacts. He typed up a quick message to his boyfriend. Cove was bored and text was probably the only thing that didn’t feel so exhausting.

Cove: Hey, what are you up to?

Cove: If you’re up to anything given this heat

Luckily, Cove didn’t wait long for Riley to respond and his face lit up at seeing those three dots.

Riley: Eh– 🤷

Riley: Yeah I’m not doing much here. Just laying in bed reading

No surprises there, that’s always what Riley does on overly hot days. Cove started typing to ask what his boyfriend was reading this time around, only to stop when Riley sent a picture. Cove smiled and felt his heart flutter as he looked at the selfie of Riley. Sure, there was nothing different about this picture than any other picture he had of them. Still it made Cove happy.

Though Cove did take notice of something… off? The fabric of their chest didn’t have connecting sleeves, leaving Riley’s neck and shoulders bare except for a necklace. The fabric also reminded Cove more of a blanket than any shirt or dress Riley owned. He ultimately concluded that it was Riley’s blanket.

Cove: I know you like layers, but isn’t it a bit warm for a blanket?

It was mostly a teasing text, though if Riley seriously thought they needed a blanket in this heat….

Riley: Hahaha very funny Cove

Riley: It is too hot, to the point I took off my shirt a while ago. Figured sending you a picture of my tits without warming might not go well lol

Rereading that message for the third time, Cove’s mind continued to wander into dangerous territory. He didn’t need a mirror to know how red his face was at that moment. The only conclusion he came to was that right now his boyfriend was shirtless. Being so caught up in his head, Cove nearly missed Riley’s next texts.

Riley: Oh–

Riley: Shit, I’m so sorry Cove

Riley: I didn’t think before sending that!

Riley: Just uh– ignore I said anything

How can he ignore that now?! If he thought it was hot in his room before— well, now he might as well die from the heat. The strain in his pants wasn’t helping. Cove knew he shouldn’t be thinking of Riley like this… it’s rude? Maybe? Creepy was probably a better descriptive. But he couldn’t help it! His dick had a mind of its own and his own brain was fried from the heat and this new knowledge Riley accidentally gave him.

Riley: I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable Cove

Riley: That was NOT my intention 😢

He wasn’t uncomfortable— well his erection paired with the heat— but that probably was not what his boyfriend was referring to. Cove shakenly held his phone trying to type out a message to calm Riley’s anxiety.

Cove: No–

Cove: I mean I’m good

Cove: Just a little… stunned?

Cove turned off his phone and tossed it to the other end of his bed. He– he needed a minute. To decide what to do. This erection wasn’t going anywhere if he did nothing, especially if he thought kept running wild like this. Cove knew his dad wasn’t home, and wouldn’t be home for a few hours. That’d be more than enough time for him to deal with… his problem.

Cove sighed as he resigned himself to his new fate. Because he was not going to walk around with his body all worked up over WORDS! Riley hadn’t even actually sent him a picture of their breast and he was still all worked up. The more he thought about it, the more embarrassed he was over his own reaction.

Frustrated, Cove pulled down his shorts and underwear enough to release his dick from the confines of his clothes. It stood fully erect and painfully hard. He groaned and questioned mentally if he was really going to do this… if he was being honest he’d definitely masturbated before. He just usually tried to keep Riley out of his direct thoughts when he did. (he didn’t usually succeed, but he was trying!)

His hands shook and felt so sweaty as he grabbed the base of dick. A breathy moan left his lips as he started up slow strokes. Cove didn’t expect it to feel better than any other time he did this? He wasn’t doing anything different… except thinking of his boyfriend in the most deplorable ways he could. What would Riley think if they knew what Cove was doing?

He didn’t hold in any of his moans as used his thumb to rub his tip and started spreading the precum down the side of his dick. Without much thought, Cove’s hand moved a bit faster; the other gripped the one piece of fabric still on his bed, his sheets. Cove through the side of his face into his pillows as he gripped his aching dick a bit harder. His mind wondered what it would feel like to lay his face on Riley’s breast…. He felt guilt of thinking like that, but also undeniable pleasure at the thought. His dick twitched as Cove thought more and more about his boyfriend’s breast.

He felt a moment of shame as he got closer to his orgasm, but he didn’t let it stop him. A few more frantic, quick, strokes and several moans in between, and Cove reached the needed climax. Cumming over his chest/shirt that had rid up as he had been jacking off. Groaning once more, he buried his face back into his pillows; not caring how sweaty he was or the heat in the room. The embarrassment was too much and he decided to lay there for a few more moments before he’d start cleaning himself up.

Cove knew he likely wouldn’t be looking Riley in the eyes for days. Maybe he should pick up a few more shifts at work to avoid them easier. Less he die of guilt and embarrassment on the spot. Bonus: Riley curled up on their side as they kept replaying what they texted Cove. They truly didn’t mean to admit that. The blanket being the whole point to avoid telling Cove it. Yet here they had fucked that up and contemplated throwing their phone at the wall; as if that would erase the evidence.

#my writing #our life: beginnings & always #our life #cove holden #cove our life #art jules writes #our life oc #olba cove #olba #olba mc #cove x riley #riley adams #gb patch games #gb patch #cove holden smut

36 notes · View notes

rand0mfangurlstuff · 15 days

Text

Sing Yourself to Sleep - Bucky x Y/N - Part Five - You Right

Thank you so much to everyone who is enjoying this series so far. I'm really enjoying combining my love for writing with my love for music.

I want to preface this by saying I do not condone cheating in any form. This is purely for entertainment. Cheating is always wrong especially when the person doing the cheating is married to a genuinely nice person. Obviously, nothing in my story is based on the real life people and I have no idea what Colonel Clarke was like in real life. In my story however, he is a nice guy and a good husband, a bit stuffy and boring maybe, but he is a nice guy. He doesnt deserve to be cheated on. But the heart wants what it wants and Y/N wants Bucky!

Anyway, this part is a little steamy, theres a lot of kissing, heavy petting and other things. Based somewhat on You Right by The Weeknd and Doja Cat. Previous Part Here

They were moths to each other's ever growing flames. They couldn't get enough of each other. Like addicts begging for even the smallest hit, they begged for eachothers touch in even the smallest of ways. Their shoulders would brush as they would pass by each other in even the widest of hallways. Fingers touching longer than necessary when one would pass something to the other.

The only time they could openly touch each other was when they were dancing at the officers club. Colonel Clarke was delighted to have Bucky dance with his wife, leaving him to smoke cigars with some of the older officers. But inbetween dances she would still glance back to the Colonel, checking on him like a good wife. It drove Bucky insane. He wished the Colonel would go to his quarters and leave him and Y/N alone. He knew it was wrong, she was someone elses girl. But he knew she should be his girl. Their chemistry was too strong to deny.

Y/N felt awful. Everytime she looked at her husband she felt guilty and sad. She knew he didnt deserve this betrayal. She tried to break it off with Bucky serveral times but each time he just had to look at her with those eyes and she melted. He was far too good at knowing what to say and do to get her thoughts of ending things to vanish. Such is what happened last week after the party at the officers club.

They were the last to leave the club, having to be forced out by the staff. Bucky had his arm around her waist. She was headed in the direction of her quarters, when he pulled her round to the side of the building. Suddenly his lips were on hers. 'I've wanted to do that all night.' he said as he broke the kiss, forehead against hers. 'Bucky someone could see us!' she looked around rappidly. 'Everyones gone to bed doll. It's just you and me.' He kissed her again, she kissed him back. It quickly deepend into an intense, hungry kiss. Like all their kisses did. His hand moved to her breast, the other to her rear. He pulled her closer to him and she could feel how turned on he was. He moved to kiss her neck and she let out a moan. 'Oh Bucky, we have to stop.' she half moaned. He mouth said no, but the way she was grinding herself against his thigh said otherwise. 'I can't help it, I want you.' 'But.. Bert- Albert might be waiting for me.'

Bucky stopped cold. The last thing he wanted was to be reminded of her husband. He felt bad, he really did. But he couldn't help how he felt about her. And yes, he did have real feelings for her. It wasn't just physical, though he was yet to tell her that. 'Your gonna be the death of me.' he said into her neck. 'I'm sorry, I'm worried if I'm not back soon he might come looking. We really need to stop this. It's not right.' Bucky lifted his head to look at her, he caressed her cheek. 'I know doll, I don't feel great about it either. But it's also not right to deny ourselves happiness in times like these. There's a war you know.' he said with a smirk. She was powerless to the smile that spread across her face. 'Stop talking nonsense and kiss me.' she said.

Every day he found a reason to for them to be alone together. Yesterday he had used the excuse of helping her 'taste test' a cake for one of the mens birthdays to get her alone in the kitchen. He tasted more than just cake.

She was sitting on the edge of the counter. Her thighs either side of Bucky's head. He licked at her folds in the most sensual way. One hand wrapped around her thigh while the other played with her most sensitive area. She was gasping for air, her pleasure taking over her. She was close. She bit on her hand to stiffle her screams of pleasure as his tongue went deeper inside her. When she came, she came hard. Like a damn breaking and an river crashing through her. She fell back to lie on the counter top. When Bucky was satisfied that he had truly worn her out, he moved up her body to kiss her, she could taste herself on his lips. 'That was...wow.' she said, still trying to catch her breath. 'You are wow.' he said as he kissed the top of her breasts peeking out from her blouse. It was then that they heard the door of the main building opening. They both jumped away from each other, Y/N fixing her hair and fixing her clothes. Bucky readjusted his trousers in an attempt to hid his buldge.

Charlie, one of the cooks, walked through the door. 'Oh hello Y/N, Major Egan. How are you both today?' He said while putting on his apron. Y/N hoped her blush wasnt as bad as it felt. Before she could answer, Bucky stepped in. 'Hey Charlie boy! Settle a depate for us, which is better? Plain vanilla or rich chocolate?' Bucky gave a sly wink to Y/N, letting her know they he was not just talking about frosting. 'Uh, I like anything really, but chocolates nice.' Bucky patted him on the shoulder 'See Charlie knows that chocolate will always win.' With that he dipped his finger into the frosting and put on a big show of seductively licking it off. With that he gave her another wink and walked out the door.

Now she found herself in a supply closet, standing on one leg with her other wrapped around Bucky's waist as he trust inside her. It wasn't the most romantic situation, but neither one of them could say they were trying to make love to one another. This was sex. She would have preferred sex in a bed, less chance of bumping into things or getting a cramp in her leg. But this was all they could do, a few stolen moments in a closet. Bucky's thrusts became erratic, he was close. He kissed and nipped at her neck just below her ear, and his hand reached down to where they were joined. 'Come with me baby.' he whispered in her ear. A few more strokes and some rubbing of her sensitive nerves and she was falling over the edge with him. She felt him come inside her, her walls twitching around him. Both breathless, foreheads touching, the dim light of the small room made it hard for them to see each other. But she could feel the smile on his face as he kissed her. 'I love it when you do that.' He said between soft kisses. 'Do what?' 'Let yourself go. Let yourself go over the edge with me.' She smiled, a teasing tone to her voice, 'You don't live me much of a choice, hard not to let go when you touch me like that. I never-' she stopped herself. Knowing she should not say what she was about to say. 'Never what?' 'Nothing.' she said, hoping to distract him with more kissing. He knew what she was thinking though. 'He doesn't make you come like I do?' he said smirking. He loved the fact that he could make her feel things her husband couldnt. 'A woman like you should be made to feel that good every day, several times a day.' He started kissing the sensitive spot behind her ear again. It wasn't that Albert wasnt good in bed, it was nice. It didn't happen as often these days, but when it did it was nice. It just wasnt as good as sex with Bucky. She realised they had been in this closet for far too long, and anyone could see. 'We need to get out of here. I'll go, wait ten minutes and then leave. We can't ben seen coming out of a closet together.' 'Only if a get another kiss.' She took his face in her hands and kissed him with all her might, knocking the air out of him. 'There you go. Remember, wait ten minutes.'

Y/N left, making sure to put as much distance between her and the closet as fast as possible. Bucky checked his watch and exactly eleven minutes later we walked out of the closet. Where Gale 'Buck' Cleven stood waiting for him. His sudden appearance made Bucky jump. 'Jesus! Buck you trying to give me a heart attack?' 'No, but you clearly have a death wish.' Buck replied.

#masters of the air #callum turner #john bucky egan #john egan #mota #john egan x reader #masters of the air fan fiction #masters of the air fanfic

13 notes · View notes

biffhofosho · 1 year

Text

Prisoner to Temptation | Chapter One

Fandoms: Monsta X

Genre: Royal AU, Romance, 19th Century period piece

Pairing: Hyungwon x OC

Chapter Word Count: 9.4k

Tropes: Arranged marriage, strangers to spouses to lovers

The Vibe: Lonely prince meets reluctant princess, the typical royal intrigue, period-appropriate writing style, beautiful costumes and lavish historical settings, friends with benefits-adjacent (though it’s more like royals with obligations), slow burn but also loads and loads of smut (like, I mean it, a lot lol) of every kind in between because arranged marriage, jealousy, angst, misunderstandings, confused feelings, falling in love with your husband, HAPPY ENDING BECAUSE FAIRYTALE DAMNIT

Synopsis: Naran has never fit the mold of a princess. She’s brash, disinterested, and nomadic at heart. It is only unlucky circumstance that has cast her as the sole hope of the Moghulikhan empire. With no brothers to secure the realm’s lineage, shaky borders ringing them from all sides, and a sister too young to understand any of that, peace only seems possible through an alliance, but that hasn’t stopped Naran from scheming up a way out. That is, until a handsome prince charming makes her an offer she simply can’t ignore.

A/N: First things first, happy birthday to my beloved Hyungwon. He’s too special and good for this world. He’s a living muse, and watching him work constantly inspires me (in ways it definitely shouldn’t lol).

Anyway, I just cobbled this AU together out of lots of bits and bobs because I can. Really went for a style of writing and dialogue that you might find in your Jane Austens or Emily Brontës, so this may or may not be for you.

Let’s set it somewhere in the early 1800s though I took a lot of liberties with bygone kingdoms (all real at one point or another, though that doesn’t mean this is historically or geographically accurate—I’m just fucking around). In this universe, western and eastern cultures mingle freely. You’ll get the drift. I mean, I’m here for the romance, but I’m also a slut for worldbuilding. Please join me, your resident lost cause, on this time-traveling, bodice-ripping adventure.

Cvr | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12

Naran felt her head drooping with every second that passed with the Viscount LaCroix. At least she’d been trained well enough to blame it on the stuffiness of the hall or the port she’d just downed, but it was becoming clearer by the second that she needed an escape or she was liable to outright fall asleep standing up, and the last thing she needed was to fall into the red-cheeked buffoon’s arms and have him convinced he’d found his fourth wife.

Desperate, Naran scoped out the ballroom looking for a friend to save her, but servants weren’t allowed in except the wait staff and neither were commoners. Even her sister was too young to attend this meat market, for that was what this was—an excuse to haggle wares, only the wares were noble sons and daughters.

At last, her eyes fell on her mother, who was already scowling at her. That scowl only deepened as Naran turned to the old man next to her and bowed lightly.

“Excuse me, your grace, I see my mother is calling for me. Thank you for the… discourse.”

She should have added “delightful" or some other outwardly false adjective in front of the last word, but Naran wasn’t in the mood to play ballroom politics—not that she ever was.

On the way across the room, she snatched another wine from a waiter and downed it, wishing it was kumis instead. She found her mother, Queen Jigme, crouching like a snow leopard in the corner, cunning eyes always vigilant for prey, only now they were narrowed on a very different obstacle.

Though the princess was taller and slighter, more often than not, she was bent from boredom (a trait her father always said made her more grassland reed than girl), and the queen could loom over her with just a few words.

"That was very rude to leave the Viscount hanging like that, child of mine,” the silver-haired woman scolded from behind her own wine glass.

“Wouldn’t it have been ruder to die of tedium in his presence?” Naran challenged without bothering to keep her own voice down. There was no one else in this corner of the ballroom anyway.

"You know, I knew you were going to be the trial of my life when I almost didn’t survive your labor, and here you are, nearly bringing me to my death again. Your grandfather threw this ball in your honor, I’ll remind you.”

Naran rolled her eyes. “Like I could forget. I only heard it every time the carriage hit a pothole the entire fortnight it took to get here.”

“Yes, well, it took many other guests here just as long or longer to arrive, so I won’t hear any more of your complaining.”

“Mother, it’s not like they came here for me. Deda may have told you this ball was for my benefit, but that’s certainly not what he told all these poor royals.”

Her mother pursed her lips, the wrinkles from the many years of sparring with her daughter etched into her face. “It may not have been on the invitations, but none of these people are fools.”

Naran rolled her eyes again toward the Viscount, and her mother smiled before her well-weathered purse returned.

“Very well, most of them aren’t,” the older woman continued. “They have traveled from all across the continent with the express purpose of sizing up rival empires and aligning themselves with ones that are worthy or tactically advantageous. We are here to do the same, Narangerel. Why do you think I married your father, hm? If it weren’t for your grandfather’s meticulous planning, you wouldn’t be here. No one senses an alliance like he does.”

Dread prickled up Naran’s spine the same way sweat did. “Please tell me not the Viscount…”

“Of course not. The First Princess of Moghulikhan should set her sights on someone of far greater importance than a middling pseudo-royal from Limoges.”

“Mother, we’ve been over this—”

“And we’ll go over it as many times as we need to until you understand your role in protecting our kingdom. We are cunning and strategic, Naran. We are survivors. This is how Moghulikhan has endured for centuries.”

“Off the backs of saleable daughters.”

Queen Jigme glared at her. “You are very tiresome, young lady, but do not think you can break my will with tacky jokes and passive aggression. I know what you’re doing because I’ve done it all myself.”

Her mother meant it as a warning, but it came across as one of an entirely different kind.

If her mother was once as free-spirited as Naran fancied herself, then there was no outrunning her fate. She would marry, and she would do it for country, not for herself.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” grumbled Naran.

“In body, maybe. The spirit must be coaxed,” the queen volleyed back.

Or broken, Naran thought bitterly as she took another long draft of wine.

The women stood side-by-side for a while, appraising the room. There were lots of marriageable prospects among the crowd—the princess’s grandfather had seen to it—but most were decades too old or so feeble that they spent most of the night observing their options from their chairs. On the other hand, there were some so young that Naran suspected their governesses or caretakers were lurking just outside the hall.

Her future was dimming by the second.

“Come now,” added her mother, “it’s not so bad as all that. I did let you wear your deel instead of a Western dress, a decision I am regretting now that I see you’re the only one in a costume of your homeland.”

“Shouldn’t that please you? I stand out.”

“Yes, though I think it remarks more on your stubbornness than anything else. Even those from Goryeo went Western traditional.”

Naran sighed.

“What about Prince Hyungwon?” Queen Jigme continued with a sly voice that betrayed her.

The princess narrowed her eyes at her mother. “What about him?”

“No matter which way you look at it, he's a better prospect for you than anybody here.”

Against her will, Naran’s eyes slid across the lavishly appointed ballroom to the tall, thin man with long charcoal hair, a beardless face, and an inscrutable expression. There was an air in his posture that made him look richer than anyone else in the room, though part of that no doubt came with the fact that his empire was certainly one of the largest. In reality, though, it was down to the way he wore his suit—jacket unbuttoned, dress shirt open two buttons too deep just the same as his cuffs, and cravat unspooled like he was heading to bed at any moment. None of these other stuffed-shirts would dare to look so relaxed.

Not that she was paying attention of course…

“What on earth would possess you to say that?” the princess snapped to her mother as she polished off her port.

“He’s certainly the handsomest man out there,” observed the queen.

“Oh, and he knows it.”

Again, since Naran definitely hadn’t been watching him all night, she hadn’t picked up on the way the prince chatted with every pretty girl in his vicinity... And she definitely hadn't studied the way his face collapsed into perfect apathy the moment he was ready to move on to more fertile grounds, leaving a string of bereft royals in his wake.

“To say nothing of the fact that his kingdom abuts ours,” the queen continued. “We’re already neighbors.”

“Oh, so he’s obligated to choose Moghulikhan just because we share part of a border? Our lands may be vast, Mother, but half of them are empty desert. We’re not resource-rich like Chalukya or Lotharingia nor do we have the breadth of their armies. Why on earth would Prince Hyungwon ever marry me over Princess Bhataki or Princess Flavia when their empires are twice as wealthy and neither of them openly balks at Court obligations? He won't have to settle for anything less than exactly what he wants. It's not like he has a clock ticking.”

“Sometimes I wonder about you,” Jigme said with a gentle shake of her head. “Clearly, I’ve indulged you far too much. You know nothing of politics, Narangerel. Prince Hyungwon may be a man, but he's also the last of his line. With no other heirs, he will need to provide some for his throne lest he throw his realm into chaos.”

“That may be, but unlike us,” the princess objected, “he can have children at any age.”

“My darling child, a throne may sit on solid ground, but it can be overturned at any moment. With no other heirs behind him, his family line is less and less secure every day. The Chae lineage may be storied, but people will talk. They already are talking. The longer Goryeo hesitates on forging a match, the closer things march toward open season on its reign. Nothing is secure in this life, dear, least of all power.”

“So, what? The prince is here tonight to find a bride?”

“Well, he certainly didn’t travel twice as far as we did for just for caviar.”

Naran glared at her mother, but as annoyed as she was, she couldn’t keep her eyes on her now that her interest had been reluctantly piqued. It had nothing to do with the prince’s looks, of course, but intrigue was intrigue, she told herself. It was only natural.

Prince Hyungwon did not look back. He was too busy feigning attention to the Countess de Bourgh, who was prattling on about her new summer villa, no doubt, as she had to any poor fool who had crossed her path that night. But when Naran could convince her eyes to finally stray from his button mushroom nose and jutting, plump upper lip, she found someone else who seemed to have just as much interest in the young prince’s company as she did.

Seated at the most prominent table in the center of the room was the Emperor of Goryeo himself, the prince’s father, Emperor Gongmin. He was a much smaller man than his son, with a round, flat face and perceptive eyes. It was clear the prince favored his mother’s elegant looks as well as her attention span, as she was lost in her wine glass while the Empress of Wu yammered on beside her.

Queen Jigme smiled and said shrewdly, “You see now, don't you?”

Naran shrugged a shoulder. “They seem like they're having a nice time.”

“Perhaps the empress is enjoying herself, but you know the emperor hasn't eaten so much of a grain of rice tonight. He has eyes on everything.”

“Very well, Mother, I will play your silly games. On whom does the emperor have eyes?”

“I would say there are two frontrunners. The Princess of Champa and the Princess of Dai Viet. Princess Binh is plenty young enough to bear many heirs and from to an exotic kingdom without an heir apparent while Princess Tham is newly widowed, still young, and has only borne two daughters. The Fates would say she is due for a boy. And I have heard the Dai Viet palace is covered in gold while their mountains are said to be filled with precious stones. It would be a good alliance to make.”

“I suppose either one would make a suitable match if it weren't for one problem,” Naran said with an eyebrow raised.

“Oh, and what is that?”

“The prince isn’t interested in either one of them.”

The queen hummed. “What makes you say that, my sun?”

“Princess Binh is far too talkative and he cares little for conversation, and Princess Tham flatters him far too much. It makes him uncomfortable.”

The corner of the queen’s mouth twitched. “Does it now?”

“Not that I've been watching,” Naran added. “It’s just what I’ve heard other guests saying over their wine goblets.”

“Hm. Well, in the end, we both know that doesn't matter, does it, my child? The prince will marry whomever the emperor tells him to marry.”

“I suppose you're right about that, as you’ve been right about nearly everything tonight.”

Queen Jigme nodded, an odd light illuminating the dark wells of her eyes. “How pleased I am to hear you say that because I should like to return to the discussion about the third and best option for the prince’s marriage.”

There was a long pause as understanding simmered between mother and daughter, and slowly, a red aura crept above the collar of Naran’s deel.

“Mother, you cannot be serious!” she snapped, loud enough that a few other nearby royals glanced their way.

The queen hushed her daughter with a pinch to her side and a heavy sneer. Despite the Court decorum her mother otherwise fought to uphold, she gripped both of the princess’s arms and squared her daughter to face her. Jigme’s voice was low but firm as she said, “Naran, this is our one chance at protection from Goryeo’s might. Especially with your father still ill, we are doomed without this union.”

The princess tried to shake the older woman’s grip, but it was relentless. Though she tried to sound cavalier, Naran’s voice wavered as she said, “You’re being dramatic again, Mother.”

“Hardly. Goryeo has been overthrowing kingdom after kingdom. Perhaps you’re too young to remember Ladakh, but no doubt you learned about it in your schooling.”

“I did.”

“So you know what happened to them, to my people,” said the queen. Her voice was clipped and her eyes were tight. “Goryeo took them over in a week. A week, Naran. And they were Moghulikhan’s direct neighbor, the only kingdom left between Goryeo’s might and ours. Now that our lands share a border, I’m sure it won’t be long before that irks Emperor Gongmin. Moghulikhan might be large, but as you pointed out, we don’t have the population Goryeo does. It’s been but thirty years since that takeover, and no doubt the Emperor's hunger for power and country has only amplified.

“Still, he’s a tactician at heart. He knows our army might not be as large as his, but we are fierce and brutal, and our kingdom is like four in one. It would be devastating to the unfamiliar army once they hit, say, the Gobi. But that need never come to pass if our kingdoms unite peacefully.”

The princess rolled her whole head with her eyes. “And I’m supposed to fix that how?”

“Don’t be obtuse, Narangerel. You were raised in a court. You know that alliances are the only way to secure one’s self and one’s vassals, and there’s no alliance stronger than a blood alliance. If Prince Hyungwon selects you as his princess before other arrangements are made, then there’s nothing to worry about any longer. No one would dare trifle with our kingdom with the strength of Goryeo behind us.”

“You’ve just described the worst kind of bully. Why on earth would I want to marry someone like that for all the good looks in the realms? Do you know your daughter at all?”

Jigme rubbed the princess’s arms before she squeezed Naran’s hands. “Indeed, I do, my love. You think I would propose Saran to such a family? Your sister could never conquer them. She’s too sweet and gentle. She’d be swallowed up. But you, my sun, my strength… You have the wit and the courage and the cleverness to make men fear you.”

“So why don’t I just make them so afraid of me they leave us alone entirely?”

“And there’s the wit. Naran, you must learn to look beyond what your eyes can observe the way you trust Altantsetseg on the steppe. Let me be your eagle in this hunt, my love. I know the battlefields better than you do; I’ve lived my entire life on them. Emperor Gongmin may be a shrewd monarch, but Prince Hyungwon is malleable. He is his own man, a man who will one day be king. In the right hands, he will be merciful and kind. In the wrong ones, he will be a foolish puppet. What would you have, child?”

“I would have you talk sense,” Naran quipped. “Through a twist of fate, I may have been born into this world, but it is not my world, Mother. I could never be ‘the right hands.’ I care nothing for the games of idle men. I care only for an open sky and a wind-swept bluff.”

Jigme looked softly at her daughter. She brushed a stray tendril of mahogany hair behind the princess’s ear and said, “Be that as it may, the choice is not yours to make. You will make your way to the prince, and you will introduce yourself with a smile. Once he sees that, everything will fall into place, I’m sure of it. You are very beautiful tonight, my daughter, as always, and never more so when you offer up one of those rare smiles.”

“And what happens when he ignores me as he has every other woman tonight? What of all your schemes?”

The older woman quirked one of her silver brows. “That is an outcome I cannot accept. I am confident I have read the omens right.”

“Mother—”

“Shall I make the introduction?”

“Don’t bother. It will be over before you finish it. Let me embarrass myself alone.”

It went against tradition, but the queen knew better than to argue when she’d already won. “Go now, Naran. The prince is waiting for you.”

With that, Queen Jigme plucked the wine glass from her daughter’s hand and folded back into the ring of elder monarchs surveying the hall from stations along murals of bygone conquests. Even in the perfect silence of the vast grasslands, Naran had never felt so alone.

She was stunned to the point of paralysis. There it was, her future laid out with horrifying clarity. She was expected to pair up and breed like a mare only with far less freedom. It didn’t matter if the stud they’d chosen for her was significantly younger and more agreeable-looking than the rest of the stable—the fences were closing in all around her until, slowly but surely, she would be broken.

From his vantage point across the room at one of the many white-clothed tables, Naran’s grandfather smiled at her as though it was all going according to plan. As if to underscore this, his eyes slid further down the dance floor to the corner, where Chae Hyungwon, Crown Prince of the Goryeo Empire, watched the ruby port inside his goblet twirl like a skirt.

Naran was trembling. She’d faced off with packs of wolves the same as packs of thieves and lived through them, and while the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins was identical, the anxiety swelling her throat was something new, something she’d never felt before.

With a heavy breath, she shuffled inelegantly in her kitten heels across the ballroom floor and tried to call forth her eagle’s fearless spirit.

“Give me strength, Altantsetseg,” she whispered, and she swore she felt the beat of its wings in her gut.

The prince had his back to Naran, which was a thousand times more terrifying than if he’d seen her coming, for now she had to beg for his attention, and the princess hadn’t begged for a thing since she’d been a petulant runt at their chef’s knees, whining for treats after a day out in the grasslands. This was as far as she could get from such whimsies.

Though Naran was tall for a woman, taller even than many of the men here tonight, Hyungwon was a whole head taller than she. His jacket strained against shoulders so broad, they looked like they could rival her eagle’s wingspan, and again, she felt that unusual flutter inside her. The princess had to remind herself quickly that she was in charge of her fate, not her mother and not some handsome stranger who embodied everything she hated about Court.

Naran cleared her throat, but the prince did not turn. She had to get this over with quickly, like landing the mercy blow to wild game, and the simplicity and familiarity of the image spurred her tongue to action. She defaulted to English as she had all night, but if Prince Hyungwon didn’t speak it, all the better. Since she didn’t know a word of his language, she could be gone with a cordial bow and her duty would end.

“It appears I may be the only lady in this ballroom with whom you have not spoken tonight, my lord.”

Prince Hyungwon turned on his heel, and the air rushed out of her lungs. This close, he was arresting. Gone was the aloof gaze he had sported much of the night, replaced instead by keen eyes the color of roasted pine nuts that were just as warm and comforting. The baubles of his cheeks were high with a half-smile, and for a second, Naran thought she was the only person in the room with him.

“Are you jealous?” he said in perfect English and an unexpected flavor of cockiness, and that, more than anything, returned her senses to her.

“Hardly,” the princess retorted. “But others expect an interaction, so I’m obliged to give one for show.”

Hyungwon recoiled, genuine horror in his eyes. “I’m sorry, my lady. I fear the wine has loosened my lips. I meant no offense.”

“And I take none, sire. I am merely telling you that I am here as an emissary of my mother, Queen Consort of the Kingdom of Moghulikhan. She bade me greet you on behalf of our country. I am Princess Narangerel.”

Naran bowed, which Hyungwon echoed with one of his own, and when he came back up, his ears were pink and his grin was sheepish.

“It seems I have not made as good of an impression on the princess as I have on the queen. Will you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive, my lord.”

Hyungwon cocked his head to the side as he studied her. “Really? Because it seems like you’re already looking for a way out of this conversation.”

“Don’t take it personally. I look for a way out of most conversations.”

“Perhaps I should though,” he persisted. “You conversed with the Viscount LaCroix for quite a while.”

Naran’s jaw dropped. He’d noticed that?

“It wasn’t for lack of trying, my lord, I assure you.”

Hyungwon smirked. “Very well then. I am satisfied.”

“I’m so pleased,” she deadpanned before she could stop herself. Thankfully, instead of affronted, the prince looked surprised with the vaguest hint of amusement. As far as torture went, things could have been much worse.

And then they were.

Out of the corner of her eye, Naran caught her mother, who only ever had clear vision when it came to her daughters and what they weren’t doing, edging discreetly closer. Panic set in. If the queen overheard any of this absurd and impolite conversation, she would be mortified and the princess would probably be permanently chaperoned. Who knew what untold horrors would be foisted on her? A shiver ran through Naran at the thought of all the potential obligations she couldn’t escape, and before the bile could rise in her throat, she doubled down on the lesser of two evils.

“Just go along with this, my lord, and everything will be over faster, yes?” she whispered to a very confused prince before she proclaimed much louder, “How handsome His Highness looks this evening! And how well you converse! I’ve never seen such happy manners on a prince before.”

Hyungwon blinked. “What on earth are you—”

Still louder, Naran said, “Your kingdom is very lucky to have such a genial lord at its helm. I see your long travels haven’t fatigued you at all. I trust the palace is to your liking?”

The prince was stunned into silence for a moment before those full lips tightened. “Listen, my lady, I’m not in the mood for—”

“Oh, shut up, and just agree with anything I said, so we can move on,” she hissed.

“Wait, you don’t want to be here?”

“Of course not. And neither do you. Thanks to that scowl, I could tell that from across the ballroom.”

“I thought this sort of thing is what all maidens wanted?”

“‘Maidens,’ huh? Please. To be paraded like ponies at auction in hopes of a high bid? I think not. And what of the other twenty maidens who go home with disappointed hopes of proving valuable to families that only care for their male heirs? We maidens must sit in our rooms wondering what we did wrong and how we could have done better because if we’re not bearing heirs, then we’re just a waste of resources, aren’t we? So tell me again how odious this party is for you—and how elegant your suit looks, my prince! Did you have it custom-tailored or is it a family heirloom?” Naran’s voice switched into a strained soprano as she caught her mother leaning in closer.

Hyungwon stared at the princess in utter confusion, and exasperation was setting in. As low and as sharply as she could manage, she grumbled, "Say something, please."

His eyes flicked to Queen Jigme only to find his father now beside the gray-haired woman, and, at last, he nodded. “Ah, um, yes, it was tailored just for tonight. I’m glad it is to your liking, my lady.”

“Oh, thank God,” the princess mumbled. If she could have wiped her brow, she would have.

“Would you like to dance, Princess Narangerel?”

What! No, no, no!

Her heart was in her throat and her eyes zipped back and forth for a way out though there was none. Hyungwon’s offer had been overheard by the ears that mattered most, and there was no way to refute him without the greatest offense.

“I guess I have to say yes now,” she answered quietly enough that the prince could hear her and her mother could not.

Hyungwon blinked his big brown eyes before he narrowed them. “Did I misunderstand something? That wasn’t what you wanted?”

“No! Now they’ll think you have some sort of interest in me. You haven’t asked anyone else to dance all night. You must fix this, sire.”

“And how am I to do that?”

Naran growled. “Have you never been to a ball before? And my mother thinks I’m clueless! Obviously, you’ll have to ask a few other ladies to dance to throw them off the scent or we’ll be associated with one another from here on out. Is that what you want?”

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Hyungwon admitted, the pinkness back on his ears. “You have me completely bewildered, my lady. All I wanted was to retire to my room for the night.”

“Well, now you can’t. We must dance and you must then dance with others. There’s no getting around it. How can you know so little of Court when you are prince of one of the realms’ greatest empires? Honestly, who raised you?”

Gone were any pretenses for civility, and Naran knew she had overstepped about a hundred rules of polite society, but she was feeling anything but polite.

Unlike her carelessness, the prince raised his glass to his lips, took a long drink, and said coolly, “You’re awfully brash for a woman.”

“And you’re precisely as thick for a man. Now, walk me to the dance floor so we can get this over with.”

The prince offered his hand, and Naran took it because she had no choice. Even so, she jolted at the feel of his hot skin under hers. His hands were smooth and babied and perhaps had never seen a day’s labor, where hers were rough and calloused from handling a bow and knives. She wished she’d worn gloves as her mother had urged.

Together, they waited at the edge of the dance floor alongside a dozen other couples, some married, some courting, but all staring at the unlikely pair. Naran held her head high and straight and tried not to collapse under the weight of so much perception. Neither said a word to the other as they waited awkwardly, hand-in-hand for want of any other option, while the previous dance concluded. The moment it did, Prince Hyungwon gestured for her to take to the floor, and they parted, her hand throbbing as she buried it in the folds of her skirt to dry it off.

Naran didn’t dare look back to her mother, especially knowing the Emperor of Goryeo waited right by her side. She focused, instead, on the billowing folds of the prince’s shirt and the flashes of his glossy chest that peeked through when the tie at his collar pulled taut.

As the orchestra reset for the next dance, the room fell silent save for a babble of whispers as rhythmic as the wind through the reeds. Her grandfather’s ballroom was large and magnificent, yet Naran felt the walls closing in around her, especially when she spied the old man’s sun-beaten, smiling face leaving the conductor’s side.

At last, the music swelled, and much to her horror, she recognized it as a waltz. Naran wasn’t good at the waltz. It had come over from the West, and she had only practiced it a few times before tonight at her grandfather’s behest in the hopes she might impress a Western lord. She didn’t expect it to be familiar to Prince Hyungwon either, but if he was uncomfortable, he masked it well.

She took the first steps toward her partner as he met her half-way. His hand opened, and hers filled it again as required. They met and parted a few times to the gentle melody before joining more permanently side-by-side for the next few bars. Once she’d gotten the flow down well enough that she could keep her feet under her without constant coaxing, the princess’s painful awareness of her predicament returned to her.

“Curse him,” Naran whispered under her breath, but since the prince was at her side, he caught her words.

“Are you cursing me?”

“Soon enough, no doubt,” she said boldly, but he didn’t take her bait. As they split across from each other for a series of inelegant hops that Naran had to meticulously count in her head, she grumbled, “I’m going to embarrass you, sire. I’m not very good at this.”

“You’re lovely.”

“I feel like a fish tossed on land. This is nothing like our traditional dances.”

Hyungwon hummed as his hand lifted hers aloft for her to spin under it. “What are those like?”

“Lively,” she said. “Noisy. Fun. Elegance and restraint have no place in Moghul dances. It’s a celebration, not a funeral.”

“You're a very singular woman, Princess Narangerel.”

She scoffed. “And there's yet another falsehood. There are many women like me, but few who have the luxury having of such a mouth or a mind. If you think all women long to sit at home all day nursing babies and picking out garlands for the next gala, you are well and truly misinformed, my prince, just as not all men think of conquering every surrounding kingdom to increase the size of their manhoods.”

The prince’s hand squeezed a little tighter around her shoulder before they parted for a fresh orbit around one another. “That feels like a very thinly-veiled opinion of someone I might know.”

“I have no idea what you mean, my lord. My god, will this song ever end?”

Hyungwon laughed. “It just started.”

Why wasn’t her brazenness putting him off? This was torture.

Naran growled and kept her focus hard and fast to her feet, which were supposed to be light and fluttery, but that heavy sensation stayed rooted to her stomach. “Is everybody still watching us?”

“I’m afraid so. You can look at me, too, you know,” the prince informed with a smile evident in his voice.

“It’s not a good idea,” the princess insisted. “I don’t want people to get any more of the wrong impression.”

Their toes met and then their hands as they completed the next turn in the dance.

“Which is?”

“That you’re interested in me,” she answered. Naran risked a glance up at his face and instantly regretted it. “It would be helpful if you stopped smiling, sire.”

Another turn, another kiss of their fingertips.

“I can’t help it,” Hyungwon said. “You’re the first entertaining person all night.”

“How can I convince you otherwise?”

The prince’s smile only broadened, and as soon as she caught a glimpse of it, she had no hope of looking at anything else.

“You know, I do know who you are, Princess Narangerel. Your reputation as a spirit-crusher precedes you."

"Ah, is that what they say about me? How delightful. That should be warning enough for you then, yes?”

“No.”

Naran scowled. “Then would you like to know your reputation, my prince?”

“I doubt I’ll like it as much as you like yours.”

“Oh, very true, but since I’m a spirit-crusher, I'll tell you anyway. You, sire, don’t speak until spoken to unless it’s a pretty serving lass with an ample bosom.”

Hyungwon pressed his lips together as his brow knitted. “Is that really what they say?”

“Indeed. Do you disagree with it?”

“I probably should.”

Naran smiled despite her better judgment.

“At least there’s no shortage of bosom on display for you tonight,” she added.

“Unfortunately, it comes with expectations. The serving lasses have none.”

“You’re as frank as I am, my lord.”

Hyungwon looked down at the princess, and there was a fondness in his gaze that she really didn’t trust.

“What a pair we make,” he said softly.

But what Naran lacked in decorum, she made up for with a hunter’s perceptions. Before her, Hyungwon had played the part of a respectful suitor until the amusement of the moment wore off and his true indifferent colors shown through. Granted, he had taken it up to the next level with this dance, but there was no reason to expect any other outcome. At least she could cling to that.

Hyungwon lifted his hand, and again, Naran was obliged to twirl once beneath it. The skirt of her deel flared around her ankles, stirring a breeze up her legs.

“You dance very well, Princess.”

“Your usual company is serving lasses, so I'll take that compliment with a grain of salt.”

The prince laughed, and the sound was so buoyant, her chest leapt with it. And then resentment immediately crept back in.

“I’m glad one of us is enjoying ourselves tonight.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong, you know,” Hyungwon replied. “This party is just as much torture for me as it is for you. You don’t know what it’s like to support the weight of an entire kingdom on your shoulders.”

“Shows what His Highness knows. I have no brothers, hence no heirs. I’m Moghulikan’s only hope for stability. If I do not marry well, our line could be overthrown before my sister even comes of age to do what I can not.”

“Then, you are right. I am wrong. We are in the same boat.”

Naran narrowed her eyes at him. “I appreciate your concession, my prince, but perhaps it’s time we stop looking so familiar with one another.”

“Now, that will be difficult.”

Naran cocked her head. “Why is that?”

“Because this is the part where the tempo slows.”

Just then, the music dipped and the dance shifted from arm’s length fleeting touches to a fixed hold. They lined up, hip to hip, the princess facing one way and the prince facing the other. It would have been the best outcome were it not for Hyungwon’s hand curling across her stomach around her waist in a way that hers had to mirror on him, and as he tugged their sides flush, their free hands met overhead to lock them into a pirouette.

Together, they spun like tops across the floor as the final movement wound on for what felt like eternity. Around her, faces blurred, but one thing was clear—everyone in the hall was watching them.

“I’m going to be sick,” Naran confessed.

Hyungwon held her tighter as he assured, “It’s almost over. Just look into my eyes, Princess. It will steady you.”

It did and it didn’t.

Those dark orbs stared down at her, framed by the soft pillows of his lids as he smiled lightly, and it was more dizzying than the constant spinning.

At last, the music concluded to a polite round of applause from the assembly. The other couples had separated to bow to one another, but Hyungwon still held her waist. Naran wriggled her hand free to hold her temples and slow the spinning in her brain.

None of this should have happened. It was just supposed to be a rushed introduction to get her mother off her back and the prince out of the running for Savior of Moghulikhan, yet here Naran was, breathless and antsy and side-by-side with any other princess’s dream catch.

“What do you say to another dance, please, your grace?” asked Prince Hyungwon, his hand hanging mid-air in offer.

“Out of the question,” Naran hissed, her eyes darting to the shadowy faces gawking from the sidelines.

Undeterred, he said, “Would you rather take this discussion into the hall?”

Her stomach dropped. As suggestive as it was dancing two songs back-to-back with the same partner, sneaking away was outright confirmation of an understanding or worse, an illicit relationship, and there was no way Naran could risk that, just as she couldn’t risk abandoning him slack-jawed on the dance floor for the gossipmongers and her very angry mother.

“Fine, but it ends after this. I feel like I’m suffocating.” The princess tugged at the collar of her deel, but it may as well have been a noose tightening around her throat.

The music kicked up, and once again, Naran spotted her grandfather leaving the band’s station. Instead of a rather suggestive waltz, it was a smooth and patient minuet that left far too much time for conversation in between the languid notes.

“Damn it all to hell,” Naran whispered as they circled each other. “You’ll have to dance with at least four other ladies now.”

Her partner stared back at her with a perfectly blank face. “I have no intentions of doing so.”

“Really, Prince Hyungwon, why must you be so obstinate? If you do not, then everyone will presume an understanding has been made between us, which will obligate us to marry. Is that what you really want?”

The prince shrugged. “It’s less loathsome than the thought of marrying any of these other royals.”

Shock took a backseat to outrage as Naran’s eyes bolted to his blank stare. “No, no, no, no, no. Did you ever consider that I do not wish to marry?”

“Am I that repulsive of an option?” he asked, and Naran could hear a hint of hurt in his husky voice that made even her feel a little guilty.

“My prince, it’s not a matter of marrying you. Perhaps I do not wish to marry at all. There’s no glamor in that, contrary to what the fairytales promise. It’s tedious obligation after tedious obligation, and excepting weddings and births, you’re always bound to your stupid castle. If I do not become queen, then I am free to exist as I wish. I can sleep until midday or bathe under a waterfall or stargaze on the open plain if I so desire.”

“And what if I offer you that same freedom with this marriage?”

Naran laughed. “You’re serious? Why on earth would you ever wish for a wife who cares so little for court or you?”

“Maybe because I have no wish to marry either, but as the sole heir to Goryeo, I have no choice. If I don’t decide, things will be decided for me. At least with you, I know I’d have my own freedoms.”

“But I’d still be expected to bear your heirs, sire.”

The implication was inescapable, and they both stiffened in each other’s arms.

Hyungwon nibbled on his bottom lip before he finally nodded. "There’s no getting around that, I suppose.”

“There is not.”

“I take it you never had any desire for children?”

“On the contrary,” Naran replied, “I’d love them, which is why I would never wish for the responsibilities of this life to fall on them.”

Hyungwon hung his head, laden with his own understanding. “We could raise them differently. Just as our marriage would be unconventional and without expectations, we could choose to raise any children we had as such.”

“You surprise me, my prince, and, if I’m honest, it’s more than a little tempting all things considered, but I think we both know that would be impossible. We may be at the height of our realms, but we answer to everyone instead of no one.”

Thin as he was, the prince looked heavy again under the weight of his tremendous burden.

“If I may,” Naran continued as she dipped under his hand for another twirl, “why don’t you dance with Princess Ophelia? She’s a quiet sort of girl from a robust kingdom and would likely leave you your peace while acting like a true queen when the time comes. My mother also thinks Princess Binh might be a good match for you.”

“You’ve talked about me?” Hyungwon said rather hopefully, and Naran swallowed hard. His charms were too pervasive.

“My mother did,” she corrected. “And speaking of, I should get back to her…”

Naran broke her hand from his and started toward the now-aghast Queen Jigme when the prince grabbed her wrist and jerked her back to him. She landed with an oomph in his arms, the sticks pinning up her hair clattering somewhere behind her. Her face was lost in the folds of his shirt and the smell of intoxicating oils like yuja and clove beneath it. She wondered if he’d rubbed them on his own chest or if someone else had had the duty of anointing him.

Her heart hammered though her lungs caught as she hoped against hope that she would fade into him like a shadow until no one in the room noticed her at all. But it was for nothing. The music still played, but it became background noise beneath the murmur of royal bystanders.

Suddenly, Hyungwon’s cheek was in her hair, his mouth finding her ear through her unraveling black tresses.

“Princess Narangerel, my father intends to invade Moghulikhan. Marry me and we can prevent this.”

It was just as Queen Jigme feared, and Hyungwon knew it. Naran was faced now with turning her back on her family and her entire kingdom with full knowledge and selfishness or falling in league with a handsome prince who promised to give her the life she sought anyway. It was no doubt an empty promise, but even if it were, the threat was now real. Knowing what she knew, could she really turn him down?

“Damn you,” she whispered back, her nails digging in through the thin silk of his shirt.

“Is that a yes, princess?”

“Yes,” she seethed.

“Then I will go to my father at once and arrange everything. We shall make the announcement tonight.”

Hyungwon released her and stalked over to his father, ushering him out of the ballroom and leaving the princess red-faced and shaking in a sea of jealous and shocked gawkers. The room whirled, and her stomach lurched. Everything Naran had ever known had just been undone in the span of two songs.

Her mother was at her side in an instant, smoothing her hair and thumbing at the rosy bloom in her daughter’s cheeks.

“Oh, my sun, you’ve made the right decision! I knew you would!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mother,” Naran insisted, hoping that her denial would alter reality.

“Did the prince not propose? Did you not say yes?”

“It was a dance. Just a dance.”

“A dance? When Prince Hyungwon has danced with no one but family in years? When his lips were in your hair? Surely, you jest, my child. No, this means everything. You have saved your homeland. Our people will adore you for it. Saran will adore you for it. When she comes of age, there won’t be a royal in all the realms who won’t seek to woo her. She will have her choice of kingdom thanks to your enviable match. It will silence at last the issue of heirs amongst our own people, for Goryeo’s backing will be incentive enough to dissuade usurpers until your sister can bear the next king.”

Naran’s throat was drier than the Gobi. She pinched her eyes shut against the onslaught of cold knowledge relentlessly bombarding her. “That’s just what I want—my little sister having to endure this nonsense.”

“She will not have to, darling! Suitors will come to her. She can marry for love or country.”

“She can have everything I cannot.”

Queen Jigme took her daughter’s face in hand and smiled warmly at her. “Who is to say that you cannot? Duty may bind you, but it doesn’t have to unmake you, dearest. There is something to your prince. When you’ve survived as long as I have in the world, you can see it. Only someone special like you, my Narangerel, can awaken it. Is Prince Hyungwon not handsome?”

Reluctantly, the princess nodded.

“Is he not charming?”

“When he wants to be.”

The queen’s voice dropped hard and low as her grip tightened. “Did he give you a reason to fear him?”

Naran pictured Hyungwon’s soft cinnamon eyes studying her as they twirled across the dance floor, and though her chest tightened at the memory, it wasn’t founded in the same kind of fear she felt when she squared off with a pack of wolves. The princess shook her head. “No, nothing like that.”

The queen let out a relieved sigh. “Good, because I would not part with you for all the alliances in the realms in trade for your safety. So, it is only your pride that holds you back?”

“Not pride, Mother. Freedom.”

“Do you respect the prince?”

“I hardly know him.”

Jigme glowered at her. “That has never stopped my daughter from making a snap judgment before.”

Naran didn’t want to say yes. That was the same thing as condoning the whole preposterous arrangement. And yet… It was hard to forget the gentleness in his cheeks and the calmness in his voice as he promised things she knew she shouldn’t dream of any longer.

“I suppose more than I do these other preening fools.”

“Then take heart, my sun. If there is respect, there can be love. You will want for nothing. There will be peace further than your eagle can soar. You have already done more for your kingdom than most rulers can ever hope to do.”

Strangely, Naran felt her heart in her throat. It was yet another promise that seemed impossible to deliver. “That presumes Emperor Gongmin will approve the match…”

Before her mother could even open her mouth to answer, Prince Hyungwon sped across the ballroom faster than she had imagined such a cavalier man ever moving. The entire party was watching as he bowed deeply to Queen Jigme before extending his hand to the princess.

Naran had no choice, she had to take it, and instead of simply holding her hand, he laced his fingers through hers so she had no way to pull away. His skin was hot and sweaty, but so was hers, and at least she could take comfort in the fact that he was as uncomfortable with this unbearable spotlight as she was.

“What’s going on?” she whispered. “Did your father not approve our arrangement?”

Even if the match had never been something she had wanted for herself, it would be even more humiliating to be turned down.

Worryingly, Hyungwon did not answer though he also did not stop pulling her to the head of the hall. There, beneath a fresco of a khan and his warrior bride surveying a battle from a mountain ledge, the prince stopped and tugged Naran close to his side. His hand tightened in hers, and it felt almost like he was using her to keep upright. She didn’t bother to balk because she needed the same.

Heavy footsteps approached from the side, and Naran lifted her eyes. Emperor Gongmin seemed to fill the room like a great balloon, puffing mightier and mightier with each passing second. All eyes had already turned to the front of the hall in anticipation of what the greatest ruler in the East had to say.

The emperor raised his glass to the party and grinned with a hollowness that Naran had yet to find in his son. His voice boomed across the room, even vibrating in the glassware on the tables. “First, I would like to extend my gratitude and appreciation to the mighty Toqu Khan for hosting us all at his beautiful palace this week. For many of us, this may be the only time we visit Kipchak, but it will remain forever in our hearts. It has been many long years since I have had the privilege of visiting, but I am happy to report this time has added a fondness for this charming land that I might never have anticipated, because it is thanks to the great Khan’s generosity that I can announce to all the realms that my son, Crown Prince Hyungwon of Goryeo, has finally found his future bride.”

A collective gasp filled the hall to its rafters, and Naran fought to hide her embarrassing tremble. As the spectators tightened ranks, she scanned the rainbow of faces to find her mother and grandfather watching with proud smiles. If they were happy, so too must she try to be. While she couldn’t bear to look at the man beside her, the princess worked hard to cobble some kind of smile together for them.

Emperor Gongmin continued, “Today, I am pleased to announce the joyful union of the Empire of Goryeo to the Kingdom of Moghulikhan. Henceforth, Princess Narangerel will move to Namgyeong to be with her new family, where the happy couple will marry before the whole empire. Please join me in wishing them all possible happiness.”

Applause thundered around them. For as many sycophants and saccharine grins as there were, there were just as many barely concealed scowls and glares, particularly a few other princesses Naran had spied talking up the prince earlier.

“To their many heirs!” shouted someone in the crowd, which was followed by cheers and more applause.

Her grandfather signaled for the band to kick back up as small glasses of clear liquor made their way suspiciously quickly through the ballroom, almost as though they’d been waiting for just such an announcement. The moment the tray appeared to her, Naran shook off Hyungwon’s hand to grab two glasses and down them with lightning speed before the burn of the alcohol could even sear her tongue. Beside her, her husband-to-be eyed her as he nursed his lone glass.

No sooner were the glasses emptied than the emperor had extended his hand to his future daughter-in-law. “Would you honor your new father with a dance, Princess?”

Without so much as the bliss of drunkenness, her body churned and her mind swam as Emperor Gongmin led Naran to the edge of the dance floor and dove right in mid-promenade. She could barely keep her feet under her as they waltzed through the line of raucous partygoers.

“What an enviable match you have made for yourself, Princess Naran,” the emperor observed as they ducked through a tunnel of hands.

“Yes, Your Highness,” she said tightly.

They emerged at the end of the tunnel only to add to it by joining their hands above them for the next dancers. Naran tried to keep her attention on the dance, but the beady eyes of the emperor were relentlessly demanding, and she knew in her bones she needed to rise to his challenge. She met his gaze head on, and the corner of his mouth quirked, pulling a crow’s foot at the edge of his cheek.

“I confess I have never seen my son so interested in his future,” Gongmin added, “which is why I approved the match without first meeting you. He appears genuinely pleased.”

“I am happy to hear so.”

They paired off again for a series of turns about the dance floor, which gave the emperor a chance to soften his voice further. “But I do not have the luxury of being so easy. My son has always been as prone to whimsy as he is to idleness, and this is all very sudden.”

Now, the alcohol was kicking in, mercifully giving Naran the strength she needed in the face of the Lord of the East. “Is that not how most matches are made, Your Highness?”

“Indeed they are, but I’m sure you can appreciate my desire to protect my empire.”

“Excuse my candor, sire, but I don’t believe anyone worries about the future of Goryeo.”

Emperor Gongmin’s hand squeezed hers unexpectedly tightly. “I do, Princess Narangerel, I do. So long as you commit to your new homeland and deliver the promised heirs, we will get along perfectly well. Now, I suggest you two revel in tonight’s festivities for as long as they’re offered. Goryeo always remembers to show its deep appreciation to its hosts, especially when they’re now family.”

The soon-to-be in-laws finished out the last few bars of the dance before they bowed to one another. As the emperor came up, he added with a softer, if disingenuous, smile, “You will make some very pretty children.”

With nothing else to say, Naran bowed again.

As Gongmin stepped aside for his son, he looked at the pair and said, “Enjoy your party, you two.”

Prince Hyungwon joined Naran’s side and offered her the next dance, but she shook her head. “I’m too dizzy. I mean it.”

“Would you like to sit down?”

“I would like to shoot you with an arrow,” she snapped though she took a chair along the wall and let her head rest against the tapestry there as she steadied her heart. “I hope you're happy.”

Hyungwon raised an eyebrow, “About the arrow? Not so much, but otherwise, I am, and so should you be.”

“You just blackmailed me into marriage. Happiness is the last thing from my mind.”

“You’re not the least bit glad to have settled on someone who will at least respect your independence, princess?”

Under the swell of the violin, Naran scoffed. “If you respected my independence, you would have left me to my plan of faking a deadly illness until my sister came of age. Then I could miraculously recover only to live my life as a spinster roaming the plains and hunting with my eagle.”

“You have a very elaborate imagination, my lady,” he said teasingly.

“It’s hardly imagination, my lord. I was set to contract dropsy this very evening.”

Hyungwon laughed. “You don’t contract dropsy; you develop it. Do not worry, the libraries in Changdeokgung are second to none, and they will all be at the princess’s disposal. You can pretend to contract all the illnesses you want when we arrive.”

Naran seethed. Thankfully, the folds of her dress concealed her fists.

“For all that’s just occurred, I am glad I met you, Princess,” said the prince as the orchestra wound down, and the tension left her hands at once. There was a tenderness in his voice that Naran almost let herself mistake as genuine affection, but either way, it made her breath catch. “This is the first time in my whole life I haven’t dreaded my future.”

He was being kind, and maybe it was even working were it not for the fact that it was the first time in Naran’s life that she did dread hers.

“I meant what I said,” Hyungwon continued. “I mean to give you every independence I can in our marriage. We don’t have to love each other so long as we respect each other, and if we can do that, maybe we can be something great for our people—and maybe even each other.”

The prince looked down at her, that beautiful smile showcasing brilliant teeth and lush lips. Naran longed to trust such beauty, but she knew those things were fleeting. Once the chandeliers had been snuffed, the silverware put away, and the spectators dispatched, only cold reality would encroach on them, and she wondered what kind of man her husband would truly be then.

#monsta x smut #multichapter #hyungwon smut #royal au #arranged marriage #romance #slow burn #bodice ripper #third person #prisoner to temptation

74 notes · View notes