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#i am bordering on exhaustion
royalarchivist · 2 months
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Antoine: It's ok to be old, man!
Fit: Yeah, it's- it's alright. Well, you know– we're glad to have you here Phil, because you take the brunt of the old jokes being the actual oldest. So you're taking one for the team.
Phil: [Snorts] Wait, isn't Pierre older than me?
Antoine: Uh, he might be older than you, but I think the oldest person on the server is Pol, but I don't think he comes very often.
Phil: Yeah, Pol kinda like shows up whenever, yeah. Yeah. Wait– how old's Luzu?
Fit: OH– actually, Luzu might be older, yeah yeah yeah!
Phil: Yeah, Luzu's a family man! Luzu's got like, a kid and sht dude. A whole family man.
Fit: He's got a whole family, I got a pet cactus man, we're in different stages of our lives, you know?
Phil: EXACTLY! [Laughs] Luzu and Pierre are just like, family men of the server.
Antoine: Oh yeah yeah yeah yeah, they are.
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opens-up-4-nobody · 1 year
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...
#feelin weird. feelin real weird. in a bad way? no i guess not but more like im a haha wtf is happening here?#like i should maybe track my mood just so i can be like wtf is this? more bc i think its interesting#bc like i mean im spending ~11hrs in the lab and the stress has been real high and ive not been sleeping well#but like currently? i feel like i wanna run a mile. like i wanna run around in circles and scream and laugh until i cry#too much energy. too much energy. but y? where is it coming from? its weird#its like the edge of a headache. the cusp of turning. it doesn't quite feel bad yet but like i woke up at 4#and was insane until 6 when i had to get up and then i was in the lab all day until 6.30#and immediately i went for a run like empty stomach. i need to run now. and i still feel like that. like i need to run and run and run#but like y am i not exhausted? im not even tired? im vibrating#i watched the new successi0n episode twice and im losing my mind abt it#so its weird and i dont understand. but its not bad. it feels out of control like it feels fucked up but im not being like irradic#like if i was standing beside someone i dont think theyd notice. except maybe my sister bc i think if i talked id be noticeable#energetic. idk maybe im just exhausted and brain is pumping me with stress hormones so i csnt stop but i also csnt feel it#but i suspect its something to do with estrogen and progesterone levels changing which isnt great bc ive got a cycle that borders being#concerningly short but like idk rn its fun. im sure itll break and ill split apart but rn everything feels hilarious#its also weird bc im always like: y do i have so much energy after i dont sleep? is not sleeping thr answer. and today i was like hm#maybe i cant sleep bc i have too much energy. hm. idk its not bad. it doesn't feel bad#it just feels interesting and notable so im noting it. weird stuff. hopefully it pulls me thru tomorrow#bc my back fucking hurts lmao and its monday so ppl r back in the lab as i stand around for 11 hours#unrelated
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moteldogs · 2 years
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on the one hand I'm the stubbornest person I know. on the other hand as soon as I'm in a relationship I have no idea what I want or how to say no or how to express anything I need
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camellia-thea · 6 months
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i made the mistake of opening the jellycat website.
they have a jack russell now. it has one black spot across its back like jazzy.
#tags turned into a ramble-y vent be warned#mistakes were made#i do not have the money nor the emotional capacity for yearning#there are so many that are super cute#like the quinn fox and sigmund seal and all the octopi and they have a new spider plush!!!#i am in so much pain and i have nothing that stops it and i just. want to not be dealing with anything i am right now#i tried lifting my tea earlier and i started to cry because of how painful and exhausting it was.#enough so that i didn't finish it which is an indicator of how i am going#feeling a bit better now -- i am not as fatigued but. still in so much pain and sitting upright is tiring.#but it really really doesn't help the emotional stuff going on#i desperately want jellycat to make a black and white border collie too#so i can have a poppydog again#i miss her so fucking much#she was my good girl and i miss her.#i miss jazzy right now too. i want her here with me and i want her to cuddle me and stick her nose in my teacup#i just. feel bad.#i hate feeling out of control like this and yet i. cannot fucking accept help#and i'm such a hypocrite with it but i just. i can't. i don't know what i need#i want someone to take care of me but i don't know how to ask or be vulnerable. i physically need someone to wrestle me into care#i don't even know what i'm saying.#i have so many things in my head and just. saying them aloud feels scary. even typing this into vague nonspecific existence. i don't know.#i don't know.#i feel out of control and i hate it.#but. i just. need to feel out of control safely i guess?#someone else take it and just.
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dorenarox · 9 months
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How historical. I made it to tier 6!
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alderaana · 11 months
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pretty, pretty girl.
leon kennedy is your older brother's best friend, you're freshly eighteen.
nsfw, p-v, virgin reader, slightly older leon. please wrap it before you tap it.
Your birthday was highly anticipated. Finally legal, so many opportunities that have opened up to you. Your parents had showered you with gifts all day, leading up to your party tonight.
"Happy birthday sis, here's a little something from me."
Your brother smiles, handing you a medium wrapped box. You smile, tearing the package as he leans up against the wall to watch you.
"Oh my god- Danny you seriously didn't.."
You were met with a signed slipknot shirt, all of the current members had signed it...
"i jumped through hoops for that so you better love it."
Your brother laughs as you engulf him in a huge hug.
"Thank you so much, seriously this is amazing."
"Don't sweat it kid, you made it to the border of adulthood."
You smile, admiring the shirt and thanking your brother again. making your way upstairs, you glance over your notifications of all of your friends wishing you happy birthday.
You place the shirt on your desk, admiring it fully before hearing your parents call you downstairs.
"coming!"
The stairs are stiff as you run down them, finding your parents in the kitchen.
"Hey birthday girl! your party is going to start soon, we wanted to know if you had a time for the family to leave and it just be us and your friends?"
You nod.
"Can it be around 8? I think that will be enough time for grandma and grandpa since the party starts at three."
"Sounds great. well help round them up around eight then."
Your mom smiles as your dad opens his phone, presumably to let the family that was coming know. you had a bunch of your friends coming over to spend the night for your birthday.
---
Your family all came pouring into your living room, holding gifts as you and your parents greeted them. Soon after your friends were doing the same.
The party was fun, but oddly overstimulating. There are so many people in your house which wasn't common at all. When it came time for cake, everyone gathered around as you stared at the Sicilian cheesecake with a candle sat in front of you.  The tension was high in your brain as everyone serenades you for your occasion.
The candles flicker out as you blew them out, the sounds of cheers as you did so. A good amount of "you made it!" and "you're getting so grown" were thrown towards you as everyone cut their slice out. You smiled at everyone, enjoying your cake.
Presents were the most exciting yet nervous time of the night. Lots of money made its way into your hands, your friends gifting you lots of casually sexual things which you would laugh with them about later.
"Thank you all so much, seriously. I am so grateful."
Your smile seals your sentiment as your family all gather around to take a picture with you. a momentum for the scrapbook, you finally being legal.
"Alright, it's getting late you all."
Your mother pipes in, silently hinting for everyone to roll out so you could spend just one on one time with your friends.  Everyone wishes you one last time as they roll out slowly, some help pick up and take some food from dinner home.
Your mother sighs as she shuts the door, turning back to you and your friends.
"Alright girls. we'll leave you alone now, don't go too crazy."
Both of your parents head upstairs, leaving you with your friends.
"So what now hm?"
Jess pipes in, giggling with everyone else.
"I honestly don't know. my family was kind of exhausting."
You say, rubbing your eyes as you turn the tv on.
"Do you guys want to watch a movie?"
"Let's just listen to music, you'll pass out if you watch a movie."
Madi says laughing, grabbing the remote and putting on a party playlist.
"Yeah come on, it's your birthday let's make the day last!"
You laugh, shaking your head as they make you stand up, encouraging you to dance with them.
"You guys are insane, fine."
You dance with them, letting yourself enjoy it as they turn the lights off. The TV being the only illumination as you danced more with them. Madi grabs your sides, giggling as she dances up against you. You all laughing as Jess takes pictures, both of you posing stupidly as the music plays louder.
"Hey! turn that down. mom and dad are asleep."
Your brother says from the bottom of the stairs, laughing at all of you.
"Sorry Danny, guess we just got a bit carried away."
Your friends laugh and hum in agreement.
"Well, either way I had to get something from downstairs and it was way too loud coming out of my bedroom."
You laugh, watching your brother head towards the front door, assuming he's getting something from his car.
Unfortunately, you were wrong. he opened the door and you were met with his best friend holding a present. The man was wearing a leather jacket, his hair slightly damp as it was pouring rain outside.
"Am i late to the party?"
You freeze, your friends being confused. He smirks as he with one arm goes in for a hug and pat on the back with your brother.
"Sorry, i totally forgot to tell you Leon was coming over sis."
You shakily laugh as you regain your composure.
"No it's fine, and no you aren't late at all."
Leon walks up to you, handing you the gift.
"Good, this is for you kiddo."
"You seriously didn't have to Leon."
You admire the packaging, its decorated with black sleek wrapping paper, a red bow decorating the top.
"C'mon, open it."
Your friends sit up, looking at you as you awkwardly look down at it. Your hands slowly unwrap the present, treating it as if it was a bomb in your hands.
Inside the box was a bomber jacket, black with gold embroidery on the back that made into a moth.
"Holy shit Leon. where the fuck did you get this?"
He laughs, happy with your reaction. You smile wide as you throw it on, it fits exactly how you wanted it to.
"Looks perfect on you."
A blush creeps over your face as you surge forward, hugging Leon tightly. he's caught off guard, slowly hugging you back.
"She doesn't even hug me, and my gift was better!"
Your brother says, laughing in shock. Leon looks over at him, laughing lightly as you break the hug.
"The slipknot shirt was just as good Danny, I just don't want to touch you. you reek of old spice and Leon doesn't."
You and your friends laugh, Leon trying not to join as your brother's face looks jokingly offended.
"Okay, you're lucky it's your birthday or I seriously would have went there."
He points at you menacingly as you laugh.
"Alright, i'm going to hang out with Danny now."
He ruffles your hair.
"Happy birthday again."
Leon smiles as he heads upstairs with your brother.
"Dude your brother's friend is hot."
Jess whispers, you glaring her down.
"I fucking know. and he's always been hot..." you sigh, Madi and Jess looking at eachother in glances.
"so what's stopping you now?"
Madi asks, searching for your answer. The idea was in your mind, especially with the way he hugged you back. He was always someone you crushed on, ever since Leon and Danny started being friends. that was five years ago, but you never let it really control you. He always seemed like someone out of reach even if you tried. for god's sake he's 23, and you're freshly 18.
"Uhh..."
You look down, shyly shuffling your feet.
"Because he's way older you guys. he's 23 just like Danny."
Madi laughs, "and?"
You scoff.
"That's a bit of difference.... i don't know you guys."
Your friends look at you like you said something outlandishly stupid.
"Dude... even if he doesn't seem interested i would try and go for it."
"You guys are being bad influences cmon.."
"Bad influences?? with the way that man looks? no we definitely aren't."
You sigh, sitting down in between them.
"Dude, just go upstairs and find a lame excuse to be in Danny's room."
It wasn't a bad idea, there were several things you could go into his room for. Asking if he had an empty laundry basket, keys to his car because you left something in his car, etc...
"Okay well let's go to my room and think about this more."
Madi claps excitedly, "yes let's make tonight us helping you out as wingwomen." Jess smiles and nods, all of you heading upstairs to your room. which uncomfortably was next to Danny's. Footsteps were soft as everyone heads into your room. Madi plopping onto your bed as Jess sits in the chair for your desk. You close the door and look back at them, who both share the biggest shit eating grin.
"Guys come on... don't look at me like that."
"Okay, so what if you go in there and ask if Danny can heat up some of the food from dinner.” 
You deadpan Jess. 
“What.. i’m hungry it’s not like you’re lying.”
Sighing, you nod and make your way out of the room. Stopping at the closed door to your brother’s room. You could hear them laughing, playing some sort of video game. You suck in deeply and open the door, being met with Leon sprawled out on the bed watching your brother play some game. They both turn towards you, and notice Leon wearing a black tee that fit him extremely well. 
“Danny can you heat up some of the food for my friends and we’re hungry again.”
He looks annoyed as he shakes his head. 
“Can’t you do it yourself? It’s literally so simple.”
“Yeah but it’s my birthday and i won’t put that on my friends.”
Danny gets up, visibly annoyed and loudly sighs. 
“Fine.”
Leon laughs, watching Danny leave the room.
“He was in the middle of a match, but good job making him get up.”
You nervously lean up against the doorway, smiling at Leon.
“You should see him when you’re not around.”
Leon props himself onto his elbows, making direct eye contact with you.
“Oh believe me, i’ve known him so long i hear about it every single time now.”
You scoff, jokingly holding your chest.
“Wow. what a brother.”
You admire Leon as he laughs, his legs spread apart and his sweatpants fit exactly how you want them to. 
“Cmon, you know Danny. How surprised can you be.”
You giggle back, nodding in agreement. 
“I guess you’re right.”
You bite your lip gently, focusing on the floor for a second before deciding to be bold. 
“So Danny told me you’ve been enjoying your federal job? How is that going?”
He sits up more, now on the edge of the bed. His elbows propped on his knees as he looks up at you. 
“It’s alright. I make the money i want to, and i’d like to say i’m pretty good at what I do.”
You gently nod, shifting against the doorway. 
“You don’t come around as often because of it.. I noticed that. Danny did too.”
He smiles, looking at his hand.
“You pay attention to that?”
His tone gets flirty, and a little stern. It catches you off guard.
“Well…. Don’t say it like that..”
He stands up, getting closer as you start to internally panic.
“Oh i know it’s exactly like that.”
He leans closer, his hand running underneath your chin forcing you to make eye contact with him. You couldn’t feel air in your lungs as you stare into his gaze, him smirking slightly as he towers over you. 
“I’m going to check on Danny, we can talk about this later birthday girl.”
Leon chuckles, walking past you and going downstairs. You couldn’t feel your face as you try and calm your breath. What the fuck?
You walk into your room, being met with two faces of anticipation.
“Well?”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Danny has food ready downstairs, let's go.”
You turn around, walking down the stairs as your friends lightly tap your shoulder unspokenly asking what happened. 
You avoid eye contact as Danny hands you a plate of food, sitting on the couch. Your friends thanking Danny. You focus on your food until Leon sits near you on the couch. They had made themselves a plate as well, but the silence was killing everyone. Your phone buzzes underneath your leg.
Jess: dude WHAT happened…… it’s so awkward? Did it go badly? 
You look up, glaring Jess down from your end of the couch. 
“I think i’m just going to eat in my room, you coming le?”
Danny asks, waiting for Leon.
“Nah, i’ll finish then come up.”
“Yeah we might do the same Danny.”
Your friends follow Danny upstairs with their plates, leaving you and Leon alone. Fuck. your phone vibrates again.
Madi: this is for your own good 
You sigh, throwing your phone down and trying to just focus on your food. 
“Your friends know what they’re doing, huh?”
Leon laughs, standing up and putting his plate in the dishwasher. He makes his way over to you, grabbing your empty plate and doing the same. You try to get up and make a run for upstairs but Leon stops you before you can even think about it. 
“You’re so pretty when you’re nervous….. I love it.” 
He holds eye contact with you, and all you can do is lightly gulp unsure of how to react. 
“L-Leon what are you doing”
He grabs your wrist, standing up and forcing your chest against his.
“Don’t play fucking dumb.”
You try to free his grip, but he already was so much stronger than you. His free hand comes to run through your hair, tucking it behind your ear.
“Pretty, pretty girl.” 
His hand comes underneath your chin again, bringing it to his face as he lays a gentle kiss to yours. You catch yourself kissing back, his hand slowly letting go of your wrist. You could feel your heart rate going through the roof, his hand catching your lower back. 
“Leon…”
“Your brother is going to notice me being gone for so long.”
He smirks, letting go of you and heading upstairs. Again, what the fuck?
You stand there for a moment, realizing that this was the second time he had left you in that position now. Why was he treating you this way? He was just calling you kiddo earlier. My god. You grab your phone, heading upstairs and finding your friends. 
“Seriously guys. That was fucked up.”
More confused looks. 
“What even happened?”
You sigh, throwing yourself onto your bed. As you speak, you zone out at the ceiling. 
“He kissed me, then just left.”
They both jump up, trying to not squeal since he was literally in the room next to theirs. 
“Dude… you’re in!!!”
“I don’t even know… he just left me so fucking confused.”
“Oh shut up. Do you think he’ll take your virginity?? Oh my god. Jess, we need to sleep in the guest room.”
Madi exclaims to Jess, causing you to roll over and scream into your pillow. 
“Guys! Stopppp.”
You try not to smile, but you definitely weren’t good at it. You were just okay with kissing him, but losing your virginity? That was a dream come true.
“You know what… It is getting late.” 
Jess smugly smiles at Madi, who nods in agreement. 
“Yeah. it is.. Guess we will have to sleep in the guest bedroom now.”
They both get up, starting to grab their things. You can’t even stop them as by the time you could even argue they were out of your room.
“Oh my god. They just fucking bailed on me. This is not fair.”
You get up, sighing as you turn your light off. You could hear Danny lightly snoring as you laid down in bed. You open your phone up, texting Jess and Madi that they were dicks but that you loved them at the same time. You scroll on social media, before getting up to use the bathroom.
The hallway was dark, and you stumble around until you open the bathroom door. After finishing your business you wash your hands, admiring yourself in the mirror before drying your hands and heading back to your bedroom. 
As soon as you close your door, you turn around to find Leon sitting on your bed. 
“Your friends ditched you.”
He spoke in a whisper, but you could still hear how smug he was about it. 
“What are you doing in here-”
Leon pulls you towards him, you stare down at him. The only thing illuminating the both of you was your lamp on your desk. 
“Finishing what I started, that’s all.”
“And what is that, Leon?”
He trails his hands up and down your sides, his hands slightly underneath the bottom of your shirt. 
“So beautiful.”
He breathes out, his hands trailing farther up your shirt. You put your hands on his chest, subtly stopping him. 
“Leon, if you’re fucking with me. It’s obviously working. Is this some dare Danny made you do? Because that is low.” 
He pulls you into his lap, causing you to gasp in surprise as he holds your back.
“Danny would kill me if he caught us like this, so no.”
He smiles, watching your face determine and realize what’s happening. He cups your face with his other hand, kissing you again. Leon’s hand on your back lowers, cupping your ass. You moan into the kiss which encourages Leon even more. He grabs your ass, his hips pressing into you. The kiss deepens, and you can feel his boner underneath you.
“Fuck.”
He breathes out, admiring your face as you stare right back at him. You catch yourself sitting up, straddling him better. His hands meet your hips encouraging you to keep doing what you were doing. You lean down, kissing Leon harder as his hips press up slightly from the contact.
You run your fingers through his hair, then cupping the side of his face. Leon is an amazing kisser, he really knows how to take the lead. His tongue moved perfectly against yours, biting on his lower lip caused him to grip your hips harder. 
“Let me take care of you…. It’s your birthday.”
Before you can respond, he flips you onto your back. He leans over you, kissing slowly down your neck as he bites and licks small hickeys onto it. You whine which causes him to slowly grind into you. You can feel yourself getting wetter at the attention. His hand comes up, cupping your boob as he kisses more into your neck.
“Leon please..”
He perks up, a smirk on his face.
“Please what, princess?”
You blush, feeling yourself heat up as your core throbs at the pet name. He looks down at your shirt. 
“Let’s take this off. Is that what you want?”
You nod shyly, letting Leon help you out of your shirt. His breath hitches at your lace bra, obviously not expecting that. He leans in and kisses you harder, excited over the new exposure of skin. 
“So beautiful baby… going to make you feel so good I promise..”
Leon breathes out, kissing your neck again and trailing down to your boobs. You grab his hair, lightly moaning as he leaves darker hickeys on your tits. You grab at the bottom of his shirt, silently asking for him to take his off as well. 
“Yeah? Alright baby….”
He leans up, taking his shirt off. His body was insane… You knew he went to the gym but he was built. You catch yourself staring before Leon leans down again. You feel along his back as he kisses you, his hips starting to grind against you again. You whimper into his lips, causing him to smirk into the kisses. Leon’s hand trails down to the waistband of your pants. 
“Do you want this?”
You blush at the question, starting to slightly tremble at the excitement. 
“Yes Leon..”
“Ill be gentle, just for you baby.”
He smiles, sitting up to pull your pants off. His breath hitches as he realizes your panties match your bra, causing his dick to jump a little. He tosses your pants onto the floor, laying further down, spreading your legs. You can’t stop trembling as you watch him. His broad shoulders hold your legs as his arms hold your thighs. He looks up at you, smiling. He taps your thigh with his finger, silently saying it’s okay. You calm down, giving Leon the leeway to start. 
His hand trails over your clit, admiring the underwear. He slowly pulls it to the side, admiring how beautiful you are. 
“Oh my god..”
You feel Leon sigh onto your pussy, the bed slightly moving from Leon grinding into the mattress. He gently feels your entrance, admiring the slick you’ve produced. He licks his fingers, slightly whining at the taste. 
“Mmnmmm. Are you ready?”
You nod, still nervous. He slowly peppers kisses around your thighs, finally latching onto your clit. You whine, trying to be quiet. He smiles against you, licking up and down. He enjoyed the taste, letting his finger tease your entrance as he focused on your clit with his tongue. You arch your back and press yourself against his face. He loves all of it. The way you already are breaking out into a sweat because of him.
“L’Leon..”
You grab his hair slightly, causing his pace to speed up. His fingers slowly dipping into you more. You can already feel your orgasm building up. His smirk is imprinted into your clit as he eats you out. You feel your legs spread farther, but Leon stops that very quickly. Leon’s fingers quicken alongside his tongue, your orgasm almost there.
“Leon please… im going to …. Please fuck fuck fuck..”
“Come on babygirl… let me taste it.”
That sends you over the edge, you can feel him moan into your pussy as you clench around his fingers. Your grip on his hair not helping. You try and catch your breath, Leon pulling his fingers out and his tongue laps up your cum.
“So good…. You did so good princess.”
You cover your face in embarrassment, which isn’t for long as Leon pulls your hands out of your face to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue, him moaning into the kiss. You trail your hand down to feel his hard on. Which causes him to moan into the kiss more. 
“Please Leon….. Fuck me.”
He smiles, petting your hair again. He nods, taking his sweats off leaving him in his boxers. You pull him into you, feeling his boner against your core. He takes you in for a kiss again, grinding into you fully this time. You’re shaking with anticipation again, moaning at the friction. Leon tugs at your underwear, slowly pulling them off for you. 
He then motions you to sit up, helping you pull your bra off. His eyes latch onto your bare tits, admiring how perfect they were. You lay back again, watching as Leon pulls his boxers down. His dick springs free, precum leaking. He was huge. You internally panicked, and he picked up on that. 
“It’s okay, we can go slow unless you want to stop.”
“No. it’s okay, it’s just my first time.”
His dick twitches at that, causing Leon to smile.
“Is it? I'm going to set a high expectation then.” 
You blush, trying to look away. He grabs your face, kissing you as you feel his tip brush against your entrance. You grind into him, both of you moaning at the contact. 
“If you keep doing that i will fuck the shit out of you baby.”
You apologize, which causes Leon to laugh. 
“So cute.”
He sits up, pushing your thighs to your chest. He grabs his dick, gathering your slick onto his dick. He quietly groans at the sensation. He lines himself up and looks at you again.
“Ready?” 
You shyly nod. He pushes in slowly, letting you adjust to him. You well up with tears, trying not to cry. You feel how much he stretches you, glad he prepped you beforehand. 
“Shhh.. shhh. It’s okay. You can take it. Fuck you’re so tight”
Leon wipes your tears away, giving you gentle kisses as he pushes more and more into you. 
“Doing so good for me baby…. Look at you. Take me so well, especially for your first time.”
He kisses your neck, almost bottoming out now. You feel yourself wince as he does, glad it finally was over. Leon kisses you again, trying to help ease you. It works, it really helps you relax, his hand running through your hair. You start to clench around Leon, feeling yourself at ease.
“Fuck….. So tight… I don't think I'll last..”
Leon sighs into your skin, slowly pulling out. The feeling making you whimper as he pulls almost all the way out before slowly pushing back in. This causes a low moan from Leon and a whimper from you.
“Oh my god.”
He bites your neck to prevent himself from moaning loudly as he repeatedly slowly pulls out and pushes in. Both of you in pure bliss as he does so. 
“Are you doing okay princess?”
You nod, feeling yourself moan as he holds your thighs to your chest, starting to pick up his speed. 
“God i’m trying so hard to be gentle but you feel so fucking amazing.”
“You can go faster I- i can take it.”
You grab at his back, then your other hand holding the nape of his neck as he picks up his speed. 
“So fucking beautiful… look at you. This pussy is perfect.”
He leans down, sucking your nipple and pinching the other. The sound of his thrusts starts to get louder. Leon didn’t care, he was way too busy with how amazing you were to care about anyone else in the house. You can feel yourself tighten as he goes harder. He sits up, his hands digging into your thighs as he starts to go as fast as he can into you. You’re moaning as quietly as you can now but he’s practically hitting your cervix with how hard and fast he was going. 
Leon’s face scrunches, enjoying the way you feel around him. You can feel your orgasm building up which causes you to whine. Leon whimpers as he feels you pulse around him.
“Baby i’m about to cum inside of you if you keep doing that.”
Your back arches.
“Please cum in me Leon please..”
You feel him speed up even more.
“Yeah? Going to fuck myself into you… fill this pussy up.. Make you mine. You are mine. After this. Going to cum inside my princess’s pussy real hard for her.”
You can feel how he’s about to, which sends you into your orgasm. Your head is thrown back into the pillow, feeling your walls pulse around him as he releases into your pussy. His pace is still the same, slowing down as he makes sure he cums every last drop into you. You catch your breath as Leon collapses on top of you. You hold onto his back, and the back of his head.
“Fuck Leon..”
He laughs into the skin of your neck, still inside of you. 
“Was it good for your first time?”
“That was perfect.”
He kisses your neck, moving up to kiss your cheek. Petting your hair, he admires your face and smiles. Leon sits up, slowly pulling out of you. He watches as his cum slowly leaks out of you, a big smile on his face. 
“Let me clean you up, pretty girl.”
He stands up, finding a towel from your laundry and helping clean you up. Leon then pulls his clothes on, searching for yours and helping you get dressed. 
“Please don’t leave this time Leon.”
He smiles at you, admiring how pretty you truly are.
“I wasn’t even planning on it, babygirl.”
He lays down, pulling the covers over the both of you. Letting yourself fall asleep, you enjoy Leon's big arms cradling you as he cuddles into your neck. 
3K notes · View notes
woso-dreamzzz · 4 months
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Magda's Princesse
Hardersson x Child!Reader
Part of The Big Adventures Universe
Summary: A look back at your birth from Magda's perspective
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Magda is already at the airport when she gets the call. She recognises the caller ID instantly and a smile appears on her face as she answers it.
"I'll be there soon," She says," I'm just about to get on the plane."
"You need to call Emma," Is what Pernille answers.
Magda's just about to get her ticket checked. She stops. "What?"
"You need to call Emma," Pernille repeats," And tell her that you'll be sitting the next few games out. You're busy."
Magda, for some reason, is feeling especially stupid because she just can't quite grasp what's being told to her. "But I'm not?"
"You are!" Pernille snaps before she lets out a groan of pain," Because I will be damned if I push your baby out and you run back to England a few days later."
Magda slumps into her seat in shock. "But...You can't be having her now! She's early!"
"By two days." Pernille sounds like she's gritting her teeth. "I'll send you the hospital address. I don't care how you do it but if you miss this, Magda, I will not be happy."
The line is dropped.
Magda is a tight ball of worry the entire flight. She's drunk two glasses of wine to ease her worries before cutting herself off in case she accidentally drinks herself into a coma before getting to the hospital.
She's one of the first off the plane and through border control. It takes half an hour to get her luggage and then another to find a taxi that will get her to the hospital.
Fischer is waiting outside for her, guiding Magda inside without little fanfare.
"She came to visit us at training," Magda's national teammate tells her," And then she went into labour."
"And the baby?"
"Fine so far," Fischer replies," Nothing to report."
Magda bursts into the room and attaches herself to Pernille. "Am I late?"
Pernille gives her a look. "Does it look like you're late?"
No, it certainly doesn't and Magda breathes a sigh of relief. "I think I scared Nilla. I left all my luggage with her."
"She's got spare keys," Pernille replies through deep, calming breaths as she works through another contraction," She can take your stuff to my place."
"Is it bad?" Magda asks sympathetically, letting Pernille squeeze her hand," The pain?"
"I've been told it will get worse," Pernille says," The nurse said I'm only five centimetres dilated. We could be here for a few more hours. Have you called Emma yet?"
Magda shakes her head. No, she hasn't. She was a bit preoccupied with making sure that she didn't miss the birth.
"We have time," Pernille says," Call her now and tell her."
●~●~●~●~
It's early in the morning when you make your appearance.
In solidarity, Magda does not go to sleep even though Pernille tells her to multiple times. She doesn't because if Pernille is suffering then it doesn't stand to reason that Magda gets to relax.
She's glad about it too because you come very early in the morning and if she was sleeping, Magda is ninety percent sure that Pernille wouldn't have been able to wake her up.
But you arrive with a lot of fanfare and even more screaming.
The doctor looks at you before turning around to get your weight from the nurses while Magda mops up Pernille's sweaty forehead and pulls her in for a gentle, loving kiss.
"You did it," She whispers," She's here."
Pernille, still exhausted, manages a smile. "She's here."
"For the mamas," The doctor says in stilted English.
He passes the bundle into Magda's arms.
You're finally quiet, swaddled securely in the baby blanket your parents had picked out for you weeks ago. You're staring up at her, with wide unblinking eyes. Your mouth is open and sucking on the air, rooting for milk already.
There are wisps of hair on your head and Magda gently unwraps you. You whine a little at the loss of warmth but quieten instantly when you are laid on Pernille's bare chest.
She looks down at you with a soft look. Her finger came up to stroke your cheek. You turn your head, lips searching for milk but catching her finger instead.
She coos at you as you suckle on her finger, eyes drooping shut.
Pernille looks up at Magda, who has her camera out and has already taken pictures she knows are going to be framed on the wall of her London home.
"She's here," Pernille says again with a watery smile.
"She is," Magda replies. She joins Pernille on the bed and gently strokes your little wisps of hair. "Look at her. We've done so well. She's so sweet."
"You make beautiful babies," Pernille says with a smile.
Magda laughs. "You can't say that to anyone. I've already gotten annoyed with the teasing about me knocking you up."
"Mm," Pernille laughs too," But you did knock me up. I've got the outcome right here."
Your eyes are open again, blinking to adjust to the light and your new outside surroundings. You suck more heavily on Pernille's finger.
"I think she needs a feed," Magda says.
●~●~●~●~
They're discharged from hospital the next day and Magda hovers incessantly when they take you back to Pernille's apartment.
Your nursery has been set up for weeks now, in anticipation when Magda had last visited and raided the local IKEA, building everything herself.
You're dressed up snugly in a bunny onesie, your feet kicking as your finally placed in your crib - which had been immediately moved into Pernille's room when it became clear that neither she nor Magda wanted to be separated from you.
"Hi, princesse," Magda coos.
You kick your legs again.
"You're so pretty, yes you are."
You're kicking becomes more repetitive as you stick your fist in your mouth.
"Look at those legs go. You're going to be such a good addition to Sweden when you're older."
"You mean Denmark," Pernille rasps. She rubs her eyes, having just taken a quick power nap. "I'm not raising my daughter to wear a Sweden jersey."
Magda rolls her eyes playfully. This conversation had been happening ever since they found out Pernille was pregnant. "We'll see."
Pernille picks you up gently, supporting your head before guiding Magda to the rocking chair, slowly placing you in her arms.
Magda leans down to kiss your head and breathe in your unique newborn smell. She smiles. You stare up at her.
A camera sounds and Magda doesn't even have to look up to know Pernille is grinning.
"That's getting framed," Pernille says," I think I'll put it on my bedside table. So I can remember this moment with you and the princesse."
"We need to give her a name soon," Magda says as Pernille crouches by the rocking chair and pulls the onesie's hood up onto your head, making it look like you have floppy bunny ears. "We can't keep calling her the princesse."
"Mmm." Pernille's finger strokes over your cheek. "I know it wasn't on the list but I like y/n."
"y/n," Magda repeats," Is that your name? Are you a y/n?"
You kick your legs out, catching Magda in the ribs.
"That's a pretty powerful strike, princesse. I think she's giving us her approval."
Pernille's eyes are so full of love that Magda almost bursts into tears. "I think so too. y/n Harder-Eriksson."
"y/n Eriksson-Harder."
"We've got another day before the trip to the embassies. We'll argue about her last name later," Pernille says," What matters right now is princesse has a name now."
"It's a very pretty name."
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derehono · 1 month
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24.02.2022.
The day that changed my life forever.
24th of February 2022 should have been my usual day. No, not usual. A wonderful day. I should have been checked with a doctor, gave notice to teachers in high school of my absence, and then fly away on vacation, my parents wanted it so much.
On 23rd of February 2022 I felt happy. I had a secure, happy life, preparing to finals, hanging out with my friends, already having an offer from university.
Until 5AM 24.02.2022.
I had not a single class in my school since then.
I haven’t seen my friend group in 2 years.
I didn’t have my finals.
We did not have that vacation.
“Daughter, wake up. This old psychotic man attacked us. We are leaving.”
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That was my first photo of the day, trying sarcastically keep myself normal. I remember that actual emptiness, reading my classmates texts about how their windows were shaking because of explosions, the sky was orange. They sent that video.
He called it “a special military operation”.
I collected random clothes, some hobby stuff just to keep my sanity, grabbed my pet, emptied my safety locker. I was scared that russians would intrude into our home and steal all my savings, so I throw away key to that lock. This key became my symbol of war, I have never found it even after return.
When I with my parents and pet got out of flat to car we heard for the very first time air raid siren. We would hear so many more of them, we would learn to differentiate them, but then we were confused.
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It was my second photo. People were going away. Foot, cars, bicycles. I remember such a surreal picture. Some moms were carrying their toddlers, one woman was carrying a bucket of water with turtles, other people were carrying cages with parrots, with dogs, with cats, with exotic pets despite air raid siren, temperature, rain. Everyone was so confused and scared.
Few days later the road we were riding was occupied. Bridges destroyed. Factories burnt. Supermarkets demolished. Houses in ruins. Road in holes. On the side of the road burnt cars with “DO NOT TOUCH, POSSIBLY EXPLOSIVE”. That gut wrenching feeling seeing photos of dead bodies and recognising the place.
But back then it was still lively, not a road of death. I remember reading news then. First victims, first shelling. Invasion from East. Invasion from Kharkiv region. Invasion from Crimea. Invasion from Chernihiv. Invasion from Zhytomyr. And we were in Zhytomyr region at that moment. Explosions in Kyiv. The border was destroyed.
I felt nothing. Just emptiness.
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This precious girl was keeping my head cool all the road. She was also scared and irritated, but she was so strong, such an amazing girl. I am so proud of her.
We were heading to my grandparents who lived closer to West Ukraine, so we would be safer. The road that takes usually just 4 hours but that time it took 13 hours. 13 hours of driving exhausted and nerved. We saw soldiers, trucks, jets, how barricades were built, signs were removed.
But we made it. We were lucky. Lucky to be alive, to have family alive and mostly close to West, further from russia. Even though, part of my extended family still was under occupation in Chernihiv region, suffering from such close border with belarus.
When we arrived, we were just silent. Then collected mattresses for shelter, asked grandpa to grab some patrol (we knew that they would definitely destroy reservoirs and literally next day the started doing that), and just fell asleep in something that we arrived in, being so scared.
That day I also cut ties with russian friend who I am shamed to admit having. He was proving me that this is just a military operation, no one would be harmed.
Then, arrived spring that I will never forget but at the same time never remember. I remember 10 people in one floor house. I remember the whistle of rocket that woke us up. I remember sirens. I remember news. I remember losing hope. I remember first photos after deoccupation of Kyiv region. I remember how forgotten friend of my dad suddenly called him saying that his city is fully destroyed, his neighbour right on his eyes was exploded attempting to get into the car and evacuate.
I remember my first mental breakdown. How I was crying in the darkness, but quietly so no one would notice.
We were able to return home three months later. But we are just lucky. Someone would never return. Someone is not even alive to see their home again. Someone’s home is forever destroyed.
I was lucky that I have secured my place at foreign university before war, but my whole family is still in Ukraine.
War is not over at all. 20% of Ukraine is occupied. So many displaced civilians, so many deaths. No one could even count, we do not have any access to bodies. Only way to identify is to deoccupy and find mass graves. No other means. Children are suffering from PTSD even in such a young age. Almost in every city, big or small, you would find graveyards covered in Ukrainian flag, grave of the soldier.
Maybe media does not talk that much of us, but it doesn’t mean that everything is alright. Avdiivka is destroyed, right now operation searching for people under debris of the civilian house after attack is undergoing.
And this is happening all the time.
Who was punished for Olenivka? Who was punished for destruction of Kakhovka Dam? Who was punished for all fully destroyed cities? Who was responsible for all that absolutely atrocious videos torturing Ukrainian soldiers?
Please, remember, Ukraine is still on fire. People are still dying. Soldiers cannot even counterattack because they do not have enough ammo, just for protection. Information war is also waging, sharing all that misinformation, Nazi narratives, russian propaganda.
Remember.
Help.
Share.
russia is a terrorist state.
Glory to Ukraine.
Glory to the Heroes.
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happilyhertale · 1 year
Text
Destiny is all - Osferth x female!reader, Part 1
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Summary: You are Finan's sister. You live in a village in Scotland, near the border with Northumbria. You lead a quiet life until your brother decides to visit you with his boys and your life changes completely.
Pairing: Osferth x fem!reader
Author’s note: Hey you (:
Now I am finally sharing my little Osferth story with you. The events are a little different from the story in the series. (No, Osferth will not die either). I hope you will enjoy it! English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:
Word count: 2.2 k
Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7
Other stories of mine
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The sun, which has been high in the sky all day, is slowly tilting towards the earth. Four men ride silently side by side. Every now and then an exhausted grunt can be heard. As soon as the grunt is silenced, it is usually answered with another grunt. They have been riding like this for days now. Uhtred, Finan, Sihtric and Osferth are on their way from the northernmost point in Scotland back to Wessex.
The men are exhausted by the long distance they have already covered on horseback. The not very restful nights they have already spent in various forests do not diminish their exhaustion.
"Lord. We could spend the night in a village today," Finan says after another grunt.
Uhtred turns slightly in Finan's direction, "If we ride through the night, we should be in Northumbria by tomorrow"
"But Lord… We should stop and rest. I'm tired of the sight of my horse's head... his ears in particular," Osferth chimes in.
Sihtric turns to Uhtred as well, "I wouldn't say no either"
Osferth continues to nod in agreement.
Uhtred sighs, "Very well… The next village is headed for"
"We would have a place to sleep there for sure too," Finan says to Uhtred with a grin. Uhtred sees Finan's grin and becomes curious.
"Do you have a sweetheart up here?" asks Uhtred with raised eyebrows.
"Not exactly. My family lives there and we could sleep and eat there"
"What? I thought you were from Ireland," Osferth looks at him questioningly.
Finan nods, "We're originally from Ireland. But my parents moved over with me and my sister"
Uhtred just shakes his head with a smile.
The men rode on again in silence. Every now and then a grunt can be heard. But it was a done deal, they were on their way to Finan's family.
You stand in front of your little house. The evening sun shines on your face and you enjoy it. You close your eyes for a moment. Your little house is located on the edge of a village, near the forest. You enjoy the peace and quiet that the location offers you, and that you can let your gaze wander into the forest at any time as soon as the hustle and bustle of the village becomes too much for you. Slowly you open your eyes again and take a deep breath. You still want to water the flower bed before you retire for the evening. As you put the bucket down, you hear noises in the forest behind you. You turn around, but in the twilight you can't really see if anyone is there. Out of habit, you reach for the dagger tucked under the skirt of your dress.
"Who is there?" you ask in a firm voice.
But instead of an answer, you only hear the rustling of the bushes at the edge of the forest.
Suddenly a Dane steps out of the forest and you instinctively hold up your dagger. You are ready to defend yourself. Your breath catches in your throat, but the Dane just grins at you. "Finan! I didn't know that your parents can also produce something beautiful", the Dane says.
Finan? How does he know your brother...?
"Aye! Lord! Shut up!", Finan suddenly stands next to the Dane. Your lungs fill with air again as you see your brother smiling at you from a short distance away.
You don't hesitate for long. "Finan!" you shout and run towards him. You throw your arms around his neck. He wraps his arms tightly around you.
"Heey... my little one," he says softly and presses you closer to him.
You sob a little. He loosens the embrace and takes your face in his hands, "Ey... y/n.... If I had known ya missed me so much, I would have stopped by sooner," he smiles at you. You wipe tears from your face and have to laugh for a moment.
"What are ya doing here?" you finally ask your brother.
"We're just passing through and I thought we were due for a visit"
Only now do you become aware and remember the Dane. But when you look behind Finan, you see two other men standing there. But your gaze immediately falls on the blond monk. However, he immediately averts his gaze from you when he realises that he has been caught staring. Now you notice another Dane. Somehow you seem to like this mixture of the troupe. Finan turns around as well, "Sorry y/n. This is Uhtred, Sihtric and our baby Monk, Osferth"
You notice the monk giving Finan a warning look. The Danes, on the other hand, give you a friendly nod. Finan turns back to you, "Where are mother and father? Are they in the house? We are starving!" Finan is all euphoric.
You gently touch his forearm, "Finan...", you speak softly. He looks at you, but you only shake your head slightly.
"What...?" he whispers, sadness crossing his face.
"The fever took them last winter... First mother, then father..." you whisper.
He shakes his head slightly now too and you wrap your arms around him. After a short silence, you hear Finan murmur into your hair, "You're here all alone?"
You nod, "That must be enough for you now"
He just nods slowly and you can still see the sadness in his face.
You smile up at him, "Come, let's go into the house... I've put on some soup"
Together you go into the house. The men sit down at the table and you serve them the soup. There is not much talking at first, as they simply enjoy the warm meal. When they have finished, you prepare ale for everyone. Light conversation now fills the room. Osferth tries to comfort Finan, to say something nice about your parents. But Finan doesn't want to hear about it at the moment. After a while you take the dagger, which is again under your skirt and presses uncomfortably against your thigh, and put it on the table.
"Feisty... You always carry a dagger with you?", the Dane, Uhtred asks you. You look at him a little amused, "Men sometimes don't understand what 'no' means. So it can't hurt to have something with you to back up your opinion"
Uhtred grins and raises his cup "I'm afraid that's true"
You grin at him and join him in a toast.
When there is a knock at the door, you get up and go over. You open the door and your good mood is immediately dampened.
"Edward... what do ya want here?" you ask, a little annoyed. Alarmed by your tone, Finan looks at the door. From the door, there is no view of the table and so Edward does not notice that he is now being overheard by four guys.
"Y/n... I thought... maybe you'd like some company tonight...?"
He is visibly drunk and grinning at you.
"No, Edward. I told you the other day that it wasn't going to happen again"
Finan's expression darkens.
"Oh come on... Don't you miss it...?" he winks at you.
"What would she miss?"
You startle a little as Finan suddenly stands behind you. Edward looks startled too and just stammers around. Words like "nothing" and "just making sure everything is okay" leave his mouth.
"Good. And do not worry, everything is fine here," Finan lets Edward know as he closes the door.
You look at him indignantly, "Finan! I can handle it myself!"
He just walks back to the table and takes a big gulp of ale. You stand in the room a little speechless. You look at Finan and shoot daggers at him. But Finan continues to stand with his back to you and does not look at you.
Sihtric and Uhtred just grin and look at each other. But you notice Osferth looking at you again. He is probably shocked that a woman would seek the company of a man even though she is not married. You sigh softly and go back to the table. You sit down and shake your head slightly.
Finan looks at you again, "What...? You're my sister. I'll always look out for ya. And... the last time I was here, ya liked Edward, didn't ya?"
"I did," you emphasise, "Until I found him between another woman's thighs"
Osferth chokes on his ale and you look at him somewhat amused. He has to grin now, too, and he wipes the ale running down his chin with his hand. You have to chuckle a little, but somehow you like the sight.
But Finan turns your attention back to himself, "He did what? That bastard... Let me go to him..." Finan is about to get up, but you pull him down by his arm.
"No... There's no need for that. That's done and in the past. Really," you smile at him, but Finan doesn't really look convinced.
He just grumbles something to himself and drinks from his ale. You stroke his arm gently.
The later the hour gets, the louder the conversations become. You laugh a lot and talk to each other across the table. You enjoy having your brother and his friends with you. At some point, Uhtred has persuaded you to show him how you can defend yourself against men with your hands if you don't have your dagger with you. But it always ends up with Uhtred putting his arm around your neck from behind or you just giggle and somehow try to bring Uhtred down.
Eventually you sit down at the table again. You are still a little out of breath when Osferth, who is now sitting next to you, addresses you directly, "Lady... isn't it dangerous for a woman to live here alone?"
Uhtred interjects, "Well... if the possible attacker just stands still and doesn't fight back, then y/n has a chance to defend herself," Uhtred grins at you.
But you do not answer Uhtred, instead you kick him under the table.
Uhtred laughs as you turn back to Osferth, smiling.
You look at him curiously now, "Would it be safer for a woman somewhere else?"
He scratches the back of his neck, "Well... if you were at least in company... and there was no Edward lurking outside your door"
You have to chuckle a little and notice a smile forming around his lips too as it dawns on you. "Ooh yes! I'll come with ya"
Now Finan chokes on his ale and Uhtred grins again. As he calms down, he looks at you, "No way. You're safer here than being out with us"
"Finan!" you utter indignantly, but he just shakes his head.
When Sihtric speaks up, "Honestly, she's probably safer with the four of us. There's no one here to look after her"
Uhtred nods slowly in conviction.
"And if we go into battle?", Finan looks slightly overwhelmed.
"Then of course I won't be there. Then I'll cook you dinner in the meantime... Or keep the bed warm," you answer with a grin. As a sister, you know what drives Finan up the wall.
He gives you a warning look and continues to shake his head, "That's not funny... and that's out of the question"
He stands up and goes outside to pee.
Now you shake your head and stand up.
"Guys... It's late... I'm going to sleep now. This will not end well here otherwise"
Sihtric and Uhtred nod at you. Osferth smiles slightly at you, "Good night lady y/n" and you return his smile.
When Finan returns, he sees that you have gone to bed. He sighs and sits back down at the table with the boys. Uhtred's gaze is on Finan, "You know it would be the right decision. She's here all alone, and I'm sure Edward's not the only one knocking on her door"
Finan gives him a warning look.
"I'm just saying. Your parents aren't here anymore, she has no one here to look after her. And with us, she'd have four men by her side looking after her", Uhtred continues
Silence now reigns at the table as the boys continue to drink their ale. Until Finan just nods and gets up from the table again. "Okay... But if even one of ya tries to hit on my sister..." he adds warningly before disappearing into an adjacent room.
The next morning you come out of your chamber. Three men lie on furs on the floor. Light snoring fills the room. You leave the house and go into the garden behind it. Everything is still quiet, a few birds are chirping. You watch as the sun slowly rises and makes the shadows of the forest look less threatening.
Suddenly Finan is standing next to you. You are startled and flinch briefly.
"Holy Lord! Finan!", you lightly punch his arm. He says nothing, but smiles slightly. He also looks in the direction of the sunrise.
"Ya can come with us. Although I know it's dangerous for ya to accompany us... But I also have to admit that it's probably more dangerous for ya to stay here alone..."
You smile at him.
Slowly he looks in your direction, "Ya have to listen to me though"
You grin at him, "I never have Finan"
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difficultdomains · 3 months
Text
i‘m drunk and at a party rn but hEAR ME tf out cause all i can coherently think about rn is going to a party with geto.
even tho you arrive together, you‘re quickly pulled apart in different directions because there are just too many people you haven‘t seen in a while, too many new faces to meet and befriend.
you bump into each other occasionally, sneaking glances and smiles or even a fleeting hand on your waist as he squeezes past you through the crowd with his friends. you wink at him once from across the room and he swears he can instantly feel the heat creeping down his cheekbones (he’ll blame it on the whiskey highball he‘s drinking tho if anyone is quick enough to notice).
and when the night slowly starts fizzling out, your alcohol-fueled elation mellows down and your social battery comes dangerously close to being depleted, you know exactly where to find him. sprawled out on a couch in a slightly calmer area, thighs parted and relaxed, one arm resting lazily on the backrest. you can‘t help the heart eyes you shoot him when you spot him sitting there, with a couple more stray hairs having escaped his half-up half-down hairdo. he pats his thigh when you approach and you are quick to oblige, pulling him closer to whisper „you ready to leave?“ in his ear, your question being immediately met with enthusiastic nods.
he insists on the both of you saying your goodbyes to everyone, too polite to pull an irish exit on your friends. and when you‘re done, you stumble out into the cold, catching an uber home.
it doesn‘t take long until you fall into bed together, hair untied and skincare done, tangled up in the sheets you giggle and laugh inbetween kisses and recollections of the night‘s events. when you tell him how you saw one of the guys fall asleep during some random drinking game, a laugh so sweet escapes him, it makes you wish you could hear it again and again and again.
it also doesn‘t take long until your words run dry and your lightweight kisses sharpen into nips and bites, the flush on your faces no longer just caused by the residual alcohol coursing through your veins but rather by the precise, well-rehearsed motions of your hands. one slow pull here, one lazy push there and finally the fabric of his sweats and your sleep shorts is no longer separating you from each other. the pace he sets is slow, languid, bordering on sleepy - eyelids heavy from exhaustion and pleasure. your nails dig into the soft shirt he‘s still wearing, gasps and pants intermingling between your lips until the tension you‘re both feeling builds and snaps like a rubber band.
after that, you don‘t just fall asleep, you black out, body heat ramped up enough for your sheets to be crumpled and hanging down the edge of the bed instead of wrapped around the both of you.
a/n: i am no longer drunk or at that party lmao but i found this in my drafts this morning - so to honour drunk me‘s dedication to sitting in a corner for 10 mins and writing this down, i‘m posting it in its og form
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shanastoryteller · 6 months
Note
Happy Fall Season! 🍁🍂🌻🎃👻🧛🏻‍♀️ … Three faced goddess continuation 👉🏻👈🏻? God dammit shana i fucking loved this prompt, 2012 Tony is the only version that has rights and I’ve had such a problem with him ever since aou, but your writing took me back to when I actually loved his character
a continuations of 1
Rhodey heads to the smith, unsurprised to see a line of people outside of it, waiting for the man inside to succumb to his need to eat or sleep and pounce on him for whatever issue they believe needs his immediate attention. Peter is among them, the closest to an apprentice that exists, but he can’t enter the forge without everyone else pushing in too, so he waits with all the rest of them.
When they see him coming, they groan, knowing their chances have been destroyed, except for Peter, who just looks relieved.
He remembers a time when Edward belonged to him alone. Edward exists because of him, after all, and needs must, but sometimes he can’t help but resent that this is another piece that he’s had to share.
“When I walk back out, it better be to an empty hallway,” he says blandly.
He receives a chorus of, “Yes, General,” and a jaunty wave from Peter before he’s opening the door and then shutting it firmly behind him.
In the beginning, the alchemy lab and the forge had occupied the same space, the outpost not yet big enough to have the rooms to spare. It had been quickly remedied once Rhodey had found about it, because the last thing any of them needed was losing him to an explosion of his own making, but he can’t say he’s surprised to see a cauldron bubbling ominously in the center of the room. “You have a lab for a reason.”
Surprised brown eyes snap up to meet his, and then there’s that familiar grin that always causes tension to unspool from his spine, even when it really shouldn’t. “Well, well, look what the cat dragged in. How goes the battle on the Eastern border?”
As if he doesn’t know. “They’re retreating. Our soldiers are holding the line and it looks like they’ve given up attacking us on that front. For now.”
“Sounds like something you should tell the king,” he says, frowning down into the cauldron as if it’s personally disappointed him.
Rhodey closes the distance between them, grabbing his chin and tilting his head to the side, frowning at the bruising mostly hidden by his hairline. “I am. But it’s a bit of wasted effort, considering the king is half the reason for their retreat.”
“Just half?” he pouts. “I really think that I deserve more credit-”
Rhodey kisses him to shut him up, a strategy that he’s been employing since they were teenagers, the whole reason necessitating Edward in the first place.
The second prince could not be scene dallying with someone so below him in station, the fact they were known to be friendly was a fluke of a broken wagon and much derision to all who heard of it. But Edward was no one, an educated fifth son of some nameless noble with a talent for metalwork, and no one cared if he kissed a commoner.
Then war had come knocking and a king could not do what needed to be done and so Edward had shifted from Rhodey’s to the country’s overnight.
Tony hums happily against his mouth and Rhodey pulls back rather than deepening it. Half the trick with was not letting him get distracted. “You need to get some sleep. Have you slept at all since getting back from the battle?”
The deep bruises under his eyes already tells him the answer, but it’s still worth asking.
“Need to figure this out,” he says, tilting his head to the cauldron. “It’s a coating for the blades to get them sharp enough to cut through armor. Not our armor, obviously, but other people’s.”
“A day,” he says, because Tony is needed everywhere at all times in all ways, and someone has to keep him from running himself into an early grave, and at the outpost, that’s him. “Just a day at home. I know you miss it. It’s been a while.”
Tony’s eyes go distant and fond. “Yes,” he agrees, and that one word has all the exhaustion that he won’t let show.
“You disappear all the time, no one will question it,” he murmurs, “I’ll make sure of it.”
“I’ll go if you will,” he returns. “You haven’t been home in even longer than I have.”
“Less of a need,” he argues, and he should argue against this too, when it’s unnecessary and dangerous, but he’s tired too. “Fine. We’ll need to sneak out to the woods if you don’t want to get caught.”
Tony clearly hadn’t expected him to agree that easily. “You hate flying.”
He hates how much pain it puts Tony in, but since he’s flying either way to get home, it doesn’t matter. “I’ll deal.”
Tony kisses him again, writes down some notes, douses the cauldron, and then they’re using the secret entrances that had actually been the whole point of building a lab near the forge. When they’re far enough away, Tony’s chest glows, the light and sparks spreading out from his chest to effulge his body and liquid gold and mercury sliding down his limbs. Rhodey has to close his eyes against the light, but Tony’s arms around him are always welcome, even when they burn almost too hot to stand.
The Iron Mage flying to the castle is a common enough sight that it raises no alarm and the brightness of Tony in flight means no one can tell he has a passenger, seen as nothing more than their own personal shooting star.
Tony melts the iron shutters back with a wave of his hand, likely reforming it behind them with a more intricate pattern than they’d been wrought with, because he always had such opinions about anything he hadn’t crafted himself.
He’s barely set Rhodey back onto his feet and folded the star back inside himself when there’s the running of little feet coming straight for them. Rhodey’s not surprised.
She’s always watching the stars, looking for her father.
Tony bends to pick up Morgan as she rounds the corner, barreling towards him with single minded intensity. “Daddy!”
“Hey, buttercup,” he says, hoisting her into her arms and settling her on his hip. “Miss me?”
“Yes,” she answers, wrapping her arms around Tony’s neck in a hug. She turns her head to grin at him, Tony’s eyes shining in her face. “Hi Rhodey. I missed you too.”
“Hi, Princess,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. She frees one arm from Tony to grab onto the front of his jacket, keeping him in place. He settled a hand on her back and that seems to satisfy her.
The door pushes open and Pepper is standing there, still with hair up and braided around a circlet and in a deep blue silk gown. “Someone here is supposed to be asleep.”  
Tony and Morgan’s innocent faces are identical and equally unconvincing.
“It’s me, isn’t it?” Rhodey asks.
“It’s all three of you, really,” she answers, striding forward. She squeezes his shoulder, then uses it as balance to push herself to her tip toes.
Tony bends to meet her in a kiss, chaste enough that Rhodey doesn’t feel the need to pull away but long enough that he assumes Tony’s sleep might end up experiencing a delay.
“I don’t want to go bed,” Morgan says. “Daddy’s home.”
“I’ll be here in the morning,” Tony says and Pepper’s face relaxes. “Come on, I’ll put you to bed myself, okay? And then you can tell me about all the new things you learned over breakfast.”
“I’m not tired,” she insists, but only waves at him when Tony pulls away to take her to her room.
Rhodey waves back, almost goes with them, but having the two of them there will just make her twice as riled up.
“I could have another, you know.”
He looks down at Pepper, blinking. “I thought – after the war?”
After the cave, after swallowing a star rather than being swallowed by it, Tony couldn’t justify staying on the sidelines, couldn’t justify only contributing to the war as Edward. Besides, being captured in the first place had shown him that he wasn’t safe as Edward anyway, but even Tony couldn’t justify taking to the battlefield without an heir, without a child of Stark blood to inherit, without a queen who could rule both while he fought and invented and in the event of his death.
Prince Gregory had been ten years older than Tony, he’d been the boy everyone knew would be king. Tony was just the spare, and not even one had on purpose. It’s why he’d had the freedom to meet Rhodey in the first place, to take on the name Edward and poke and prod his way through universities and labs and harassing blacksmiths into teaching him a craft a prince was never supposed to know. They’d assumed his father would arrange his marriage to some foreign noble for political reasons and Tony would install her onto an estate and do what was necessary to add a couple kids to the royal line and that would be that, he would then be free to spend his time on pursuits he enjoyed and with the man he loved. He was just the second prince, after all, it’s not like what he did really mattered, and he and Prince Gregory had never gotten along anyway.
Lots of people hadn’t gotten along with Prince Gregory, lots of people had thought his temper and his cruelty and several other attributes made him unsuitable as king. Maybe, on their own, they wouldn’t have mattered much – Rhodey thought Prince Gregory was not so much worse than King Howard – but he was constantly compared to the brother ten years his junior and found lacking.
They never found out who was behind the attack that killed Tony’s parents and brother. With their enemies sensing weakness and declaring war soon after, it was easy to pin the blame on them. But there were persistent rumors that it’d been someone, or several someones, that wanted Tony on the throne over his brother.
Rhodey doesn’t know if it’s true. All he knows is that relief rippled through the country far heavier than mourning.
The relationship he and Tony had, the future they’d mapped out, had been possible for a snubbed second prince and utterly impossible for a king. Tony had put off marriage for longer than he should have, but he couldn’t forever, and his urge to get out and fight now that he could pressed down on him.
Pepper had been his friend first. Their friend first. A noble, but only barely, and utterly unsuitable for the title of queen according to her pedigree and also the only one Tony would agree to marry so the rest hadn’t mattered.
If she were anyone else, he thinks he would have hated her. But Pepper had come to him after Tony had asked her and said, “I love him,” like throwing down a gauntlet.
He’d known. Who couldn’t help but love Tony, once they got to know him? And Pepper was beautiful and competent and trustworthy, could have Tony’s children and lead his country and keep all his secrets. And Tony might be able to resist falling in love with Pepper when she was only his friend and confidant, but as his wife, the mother of his children, his queen? He would fall.
“I want what’s best for him,” she’d continued in what he thought was going to be the worst conversation of his life, “and that’s me and you. He would never give you up. You know that. You should have a little more faith in him.”
“He needs you,” he’d said quietly. What Tony needed is something he couldn’t be, he wasn’t a noble or a woman.
Pepper had lifted her chin in defiance, every inch the queen she was going to become. “He needs us.”
That had been years ago. They made it work, awkwardly and painfully at first, but much smoother these days, warmer and easier. When the war ends, he thinks things might even be easy.
Tony and Pepper had needed to have a child and quickly, to secure the succession. She’d been pregnant within four months of their marriage and Princess Morgan’s birth had been greeted with relief by the country. Still, more heirs are better, especially with Starks being thin on the ground, but Tony resisted the idea of having another child in the midst of war, another child that he might die on and abandon.
Which is what makes Pepper’s statement so confusing.
“I didn’t mean right this second,” she says, lips turning up at the corners. “I know I’m not exactly your type, but I certainly wouldn’t mind the process myself. Morgan’s yours, of course, but if you wanted – I wouldn’t mind. Tony wouldn’t either.”
He understands what she’s offering and he’s shaking his head before she’s even finished talking. “We can’t – they’d know.”
“Maybe the next one will take after my genes,” she says. “Goddess knows Morgan’s all her father.”
She is, so clearly Stark, from her eyes to her intelligence to her love of trouble. But there’s no way a child of his could pass as a child Tony’s, which is what any child of the queen’s would have to be. Even if they came out pale enough to pass as a Stark, which isn’t any sort of risk they could take, it wouldn’t be worth the risk of anyone finding out that a child in line for the throne was not of the Goddess blessed bloodline.
“Tony’s children are my children,” he says, and means it. Pepper and Tony had always been clear about that and it had been a relief, to not have to be so close and yet so far, to be able to love Morgan as his daughter even if it was nothing he could ever say out loud. “Go and help him with her. I know you have a lot to catch up on.”
He’ll go to his room, with the bed and comforts that he’s missed quiet a lot, and get the sleep that he’s also missed.
She sighs, squeezing his arm. “Don’t wander. I get up early and Tony never sleeps through it.”
Tony will get up with her, and kiss her as she heads to the hall, then go down to his room and crawl into bed with him, still sleep warm, until he has to get up and put in an appearance as King Anthony.
Rhodey smiles and nudges her towards the hall. “Go on, your husband is waiting.”
“Our husband,” she corrects imperiously and doesn’t move until he laughs and nods and repeats her words back to her.
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papercorgiworld · 3 months
Text
Boyfriend material: Blaise Zabini
Blaise tries to get your attention with a cheap trick. It doesn’t go as planned. Smut alarm!
This is part two. Read part one here.
Warning: piv, no protection.
Feedback is always very welcome.
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You leave the warmth of Hogwarts castle in search of a quiet study spot somewhere on the Hogwarts grounds. “Aren’t you a little too pretty to be walking alone.” Some guy you’ve never met slings his arm around you. “I wanna study. It’s something I best do alone.” You push his arm off of your shoulder. “You sure? I bet I could make it interesting.” You scoff, but chose to entertain the guy. “And how would you turn ancient runes into something interesting?” He again swings his arms around your shoulder, pushing you a little closer than comfortable. “For starters, no clothes.” You roll your eyes and push his arm off of you once more. “Zero charm.” You drily state. He wants to say something, but you turn your back and walk away.
It’s only then that you notice Blaise was watching everything. As you’re about to pass him on your way to your favorite study spot you can’t help but ask. “What are you lurking about?” His lips curl into a smile. “Not lurking, darling. I’m on my way to the quidditch pitch to make some rounds before training starts. But I’ll admit I stopped for a moment to make sure that dude wasn’t bordering you.” You smile at his honest concern for you. Only now noticing that he is indeed wearing a sports outfit. “That’s incredibly sweet.” He smiles a bright smile at your compliment, but it drops as soon as he sees you’re starting to move again. “How about you play it safe and join me. You can study in the stands.” You think about it for a moment and then agree to go along with him.
You study. He flies around. It’s peaceful, maybe too peaceful. You don’t show that much interest in Blaise and it frustrates him. He knows he has to make his move before someone else asks you out. I need to come up with something good, a way to swoop her off her feet. When he lands you see him stumble and fall sloppily on the grass. You hurry down, worried he might have injured himself. “You alright?” He’s already standing up again and looks at you with an exhausted smile. “Fine.” But his hand reaches for his ribs. “You’re hurt aren’t you?” He drops his hand acting cool and walks to the locker room. You follow him. “Don’t act all tough with me. Where does it hurt? Does it feel bruised? Did you break something?” Without a word he pulled his shirt over his head revealing a most lovely sight. You purse your lips to make sure you don’t make a sound. He steps closer to you and reaches for your hand, holding it in his and bringing it to his ribs. “I think it’s just a bruise. Right?” He asks as if you’re supposed to know by just laying your hand down. You look up into his eyes and he licks his lips as he watches your soft ones.
Unfortunately for Zabini you see right through him. “You’re playing me aren’t you? You’re not hurt! Did you even really fall?” You snatch your hand back and cross your arms as you see his face fill with panic. I took a calculated risk, but damn am I bad at math. He chuckles nervously, not knowing what to do now that he’s been busted.
“You’ve probably used this trick a million times on other girls?” What was Pansy thinking he’s no boyfriend material! Since he’s not saying anything you might as well leave. How cheap does he think I am? “(Y/n), please don’t go. I was only trying to get your attention. No harm done, right?” You turn back to him, arms still crossed and eyebrows in sassy mode. “Look, I wanted to spend some time with you, so I could ask you out on a date. I just didn’t want to be one of those lame guys who walks up to you and just asks. But I guess my approach wasn’t any better…”
His sheepish composure and the idea of a date makes you soften up. You uncross your arms and take a step closer. “Ask me on a date?” You wonder out loud, hinting at your curiosity. He chuckles in an adorable way as he relaxes knowing he’s winning you over. “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask for a while, but now I was in a hurry. Since your sudden change in wardrobe everyone’s talking about you. I would hate to see you with some other dude.” You take another step towards him. “I guess you’re in luck then, ‘cause I would hate to see you with some other girl.” “Lucky me.” He whispers, while he pulls you into his embrace. You immediately heat up as you make contact with his bare chest. You put a hand on his chest to give yourself some space. “No need to be shy.” He brushes his nose against yours and you relax. You know you’re safe with him.
You rest your hand on his shoulder and go in for the kiss. Your kiss is met with an equal amount of enthusiasm and intensity. When you try to pull away to catch your breath he bites your lip playfully, gently begging for more. But all you give him is a quick peck on the lips. He growls in frustration and you laugh at his boyish attitude. “So needy.” You say as his nose brushes yours again, signaling he wants your kisses and love. “You have no idea.” He blurts with a cheeky smile before giving you a soft peck on the lips. “But don’t worry, I’m a patient man.” He assures you and he lays a hand on your hand resting on his chest. You huff. “What if I told you I’m not patient?” Your teasing smile immediately sparks every nerve in his body. You slowly push him to sit on the nearest bench. He doesn’t protest, instead he looks at you with hungry eyes as you saddle yourself on his lap.
He doesn’t waste any time grabbing your face and battling your tongue for dominance. Instinctively your hips move searching for more pleasure. “Fuck” he breathes as he moves to pepper your jaw and neck with kisses. His growing bulge forms the ideal spot for you to roll your hips. Entertaining yourself as he groans against your shoulder, obviously feeling constrained in his pants. He lets his head fall against the wall behind him as you mercilessly continue to ride him. The view of Blaise underneath you like this teasing and pleasing him at the same time had your pussy getting wetter with the second. Like you weren’t having enough fun by yourself he starts kneading your breast. Hearing you moan in reaction leads him to undo the buttons of your shirt, slipping your shirt and the straps of your bra down. His shameless staring at your perked nipples turns your pussy into a soaking wet mess. “So pretty.” He breathes as his thumb wanders over your breast.
When his tongue starts working on your sensitive nipple his name escapes your mouth between moans. This makes him go feral. “Fuck. What are you doing with me, looking all beautiful and sounding so desperate.” With one hand he unzips his pants and pulls out his cock dripping with precum. He pushes your panties to the side and pushes a finger in to confirm his suspicions: you were so ready for his dick. “You need me to fuck you. You know you want this, darling.” You stare at his length for a moment with your mouth slightly agape before nodding dumbly and lifting yourself up. He removes his finger and holds onto your hips as you lower yourself onto him. A soft cry escapes you as his cock stretches deep inside of you. You both cling to one another for support. “You alright there?” He asked, concerned about your stretched cunt. A sloppy kiss is the only answer he gets from you before you start moving, working him and pleasing yourself.
You feel selfish using his cock to chase your orgasm, but when you look at him, you see his eyes filled with pleasure as he watches you move. Blaise’s eyes flick from your boobs beautifully moving to your pussy taking all of him. As he sees you get closer he offers more support, guiding your hips and pushing his dick deeper inside of you. Again and again, pushing your body to its limits. “I’m close.” Is the only thing you manage to say between moans. “I know. Come for me, baby.” His last words push you over the edge and you allow yourself to fall into him. Your head resting on his shoulder as he rides out his own high. After a moment of staying still in each other's arms he pulls up the straps of your bra and breaks the silence. “We should clean up before the whole Slytherin quidditch team sees us. I mean, I want them to know you’re mine but they don’t need to see everything.” You raise an eyebrow. “Yours?” He kisses you before saying “Yeah, definitely not letting you go.”
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Hi If you still do recuest's for twst
Can I recuest's the dorm leaders x GN!reader that is like the mad hatter?
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Madhatter Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland
You’re wild and wacky with a love for tea and making hats. You’re never in one place long mentally and physically. Your suitors are often left to question everything when you seem to tip and top off the thin line of sanity:
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Malleus Draconia
“Hi Hi Horns have you burped towards the roses today?”
“Roses? Do you mean the ones in Heartslaybul? And would that be polite? To burp on them?”
He’s the perfect accessory to your insanity
He’s plenty gullible to listen to you
even when your requests border that morale of good and evil 
He’s usually picking you
His eccentric little lover
There’s never a dull moment with you by his side
He starts having a problem though when there are others sitting in on your tea parties
His rainstorms don’t necessarily mean the absolute end when it comes to you
But they usually do for your unsuspecting participants
You’re so wonderful for him
He can’t let anyone enjoy his human as much as he does
“My child of man, may we do my head fitting? I’d love to feel you soft pads against my scalp.”
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Kalim Al Asim
“What are you doing (Y/n)-chan?”
“I am stretching for the annual beetle festival.”
“Beetle festival? Can I join?”
“You may but you have to eat a lady-bug first.”
“Okay!”
You guys are like kids in a candy shop 
For Kalim, he never thinks to question your sanity
You're just an exciting person
He soon finds himself supplying whatever you need to fulfill your shenanigans
And something nasty creeps up when someone (Jamil) tells you to stop
“I can make it so we can finish our tea party….by ourselves this time.”
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Idia Shroud
“Come on Fireplace! Drink this tea!”
“B-but you b-brewed that in your hat…!”
“Yes that’s how you’ll know it’s sanitary!”
“Y-you’re weird.”
“Why thank you!”
He just thinks you’re the weirdest person he’s ever met
At first, he thinks its really just fascination 
With the way, you randomly dance in the direction of the cameras that were supposed to be secret
That you were different just like him
And he thought just being allies was good enough
But now he’s plotting the demise of the normie that decides to dance along with you
“There aren’t many who can handle people like us! That’s why I can’t let anyone else have you.”
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Riddle Rosehearts
“Let the unbirthday party begin!”
“(Y/n), hands should be out. Elbows off the table.”
“Whoopie did you see this dessert!”
“I did now sit in your seat.”
He has a weird ability to govern you 
No one understands it 
He barely understands it 
But you two mostly get along 
He often knows how to speak your language 
Something that many seem to struggle with
But he’s the go-to person to reign you in
That’s just the way he likes it+
“Come (Y/n) you’re a good hatter. I need one for our teaparty this evening. Make it.” 
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Vil Schoenheit
“You’re sense of style is certainly unique.”
“Thanks the cobwebs were my latest addition!”
“What!? Cobwebs that can’t be healthy!”
“Oooh a hat made of cake!”
He thinks you're cute but he worries your lack of sanity leads you to make bad decisions
Like having hats with holes for nonexistent limbs
As well as your affinity for drinking tea for a meal 
And probably worst of all being friends with potatoes who can’t handle you 
Which is why Vil’s here
“Didn’t you read the schedule? We’re having tea, tonight so leave those potatoes behind.”
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Leona Kingscholar
“Its time for the puppy hat party!”
“...Will you stop, I’m trying to sleep!”
“But it’s time for the party!!!!”
“I’m going to kill you.”
He thinks you're so cute 
But he loves it most when you card your hands through his hair while fitting his head for a hat
But part of your insanity has you being quite energetic
Which clashes with his love for sleep 
So he might meddle a little with the tea you seem addicted to it
So he might slip something in 
To make sure he gets his snuggly hatter in his bed
“Come on Herbivore you seem exhausted. If you’re not that tired you can fit me for a hat.”
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iamskyereads · 3 months
Text
Repose
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Pero Tovar x Fem Reader
summary: Pero returns to your inn with an injury. Follows Watercolor.
warnings:  MINORS BEGONE. 18+ content. More Pero in a bath, now with a handjob, hurt/comfort, talk of sex work, background characters fighting, weapon mention, flirting, strong language, that chin grab (you know the one), sleepy!pero, the feelings got ahead of me, I am not in control of these two anymore.
word count: 4.3k
A/N: All this Pedro in a sling had me picturing hurt/comfort vibes with an injured Pero Tovar.
Always a thank you to @ezrasbirdie for the beta and to @pedrorascal for enabling and the gifs.
MASTERLIST // AO3
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In the autumn, armies pass through your village. They are heading north and make camp on the outskirts of the town. They are being sent far away from here to secure the borders and fight distant enemies.
It means the inn’s tavern is the liveliest it has ever been. The streets teem with hordes of men, stinking in faded armor and stacked with weapons and armored horses. They roughhouse in the bars, and are kicked out onto the streets, where they roughhouse even more. You’ve taken to hiding a knife under your pillow should one be misled to your locked bedroom.
The girls in the brothel down the road have never been so busy, and they wander to the tavern as well, exhausted, seeking food and drink before another round of customers. You do your best to keep them well fed and hydrated, and recommend the services of the private baths offered by the inn, and they tip you a little extra for your thoughtfulness.
They are a rowdy bunch. They talk loudly of their exploits in the bedroom with the men, bragging about who made the most money off the soldiers and who enjoyed the biggest cock.
Their brash talk makes you titter at your workstation, ladling hot stew or rationing bread, listening to these gossiping hens.
You wish that you were not so shy.
Throughout the season, you remain chipper, but on lonely nights when the tavern closes and the inn goes quiet, and the last of the men saunter back to their tents and regiments, or the brothel, you turn down for the night and pine for a companionship of your own.
It would not be wrong to say that you miss him, the grumpy Pero Tovar. You search for his scowl and scar among all the hardened faces that pass through. It has progressed many weeks since his last stay here, and you do not know when he will make his return.
Meanwhile, you paint to occupy yourself and keep remembrance of his face, among all the other ones you practice.
Painting has presented its own set of challenges, but you are learning more and more each time you do. When a caravan of monks passes through the village, you barter for supplies, including animal hair brushes and plaster to practice making egg tempura frescos upon the walls of your modest bedroom. The monks are generous with you, mistakenly taking you to be the avid apprentice of some master painter, rather than a mere kitchengirl with a secret hobby.
If only you could have a tutor instead of painting by the hand of your whims. Then you could learn discipline too, rather than guesswork. Alas, your days are spent doing laundry, scrubbing dishes, and filling baths when not in the kitchens, instead of being tutored by the brightest of the art world.
You fear you are doomed to fall into that blank depth of anonymity, forgotten by history. Lost to the ages.
With fondness you recall Pero, the man who took more than a passing interest in your talents, and as you mix your pigmented paints late at night when all the world is asleep, and paint imagined landscapes occupied with imagined peoples on the walls of your bedroom.
You wonder if the next time you see him, how you will properly thank him for finding these jars of color.
The winds change in the night, and the armies and their camps move out swiftly, called off to battle. Should they ever pass through your village again, they will be far fewer in number. A cold front hits, and for some days you do not see the sun, and a heavy fog sits over the village. The nights are too dark and cold to work, and your paints and their brushes sit idle, your feet sore, and you go to bed shivering, despite the best workings of the burning logs in the fireplace.
One morning, a birdsong wakes you far later than the usual hour you rise, and you wrap your apron around your skirts and scurry to the tavern to assist with breakfast.
In the tavern itself, one regular patron sits by the door with his perpetually yawning dog at his feet, but close to the fireplace (already burning) is a man, wearing a dark cloak, who is also yawning.
“Pero!” 
The Spaniard’s name falls all too familiarly from your lips. Your shock at seeing him so early in the morning translates easily, for he stirs, straightening over his porridge and the tired, glassy quality of his eyes does not hide his merriment in seeing you.
Even if it only earns one word of greeting.
“Ángel,” says Pero.
He smiles, wanly, for he is exhausted, clearly drained of all energy, save that which keeps him spooning cold porridge into his mouth. He does so, left-handed, and thus somewhat clumsily, for his right arm is hanging in a sling.
“What has happened?” You step closer, examining him.
A white rag serves as a sling, holding his arm, and tied as a kerchief around his neck. It is, thankfully, not stained with blood, so he is not more heinously injured as you fear, but Pero moves with far stiffer gestures than usual.
A broken arm? An injured shoulder?
“Oh this?” He shakes his head, shrugs, as if it is all no big deal. “Nothing.”
“Did you go to hard sword fighting?” You ask, cocking your hip against the table.
He mutters unintelligibly. Then, “It is good to see you,” he says and his deep set eyes are earnest and soft in the morning rays of light and the birdsongs coming through the windows.
“I was beginning to think you forgot about me,” you say.
“Never.”
The clutch on his spoon in the wide fingers, and in his nondominant hand, means his movements are ungainly. The spoon scrapes the inside of the bowl over and over. He gives up, lifts the bowl to his lips instead, and slurps down the food.
“You missed the regiment of foot soldiers that came through,” you tell him to make conversation and delay your morning tasks in the kitchen. You cannot help but gaze at the way his throat works as he swallows the contents of his meal. His neck is lined with sweat and dirt. 
The bowl falls to the table, and a satisfied Pero wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I saw them on their way out as they crossed the river,” he grunts. “They did not disturb you here?”
“Not too much.”
“They are the rough sort,” he says, with his mouth full of porridge.
“We are used to it,” you say. “Aha! I know! Your horse bucked you off the saddle?”
A shake of his head.
“You fought with a bear?”
He is amused at your guessing game. “Wrong again, ángel.”
“A wolf?”
He gives nothing more away, and your heart swells with pity for him. 
“Okay, don’t tell me how you hurt yourself.” You slap your palms against your side, giving up. “But I take it, you require a bath.”
His chewing freezes. A shade of pink colors the high points of his cheeks, visible even through the weeks worth of sweat and dirt embedded so deeply into his skin, they are one and the same. He sniffs subtly at his armpits. The pink blush turns to fuschia, purple zinnias on a sunny day.
He is so used to his own smell, he barely registers it anymore. Whereas, you have smelled horses with fairer scents than him.
“Yes, a bath,” he replies, stiffly. He frowns at the empty porridge bowl, casts embarrassed glances at the one other patron in the room.
“I’ll get one started,” you say with a laugh, happy to have an activity that will keep you clear of running into the innkeeper. “Your usual room?”
He nods and clears his throat with a grunt. “And more porridge.”
Before you can depart, his hand encircles your wrist, steadying you in place at his side. He lifts it and examines the side of your hand and your wrist. There are colored smudges there from the previous night.
“So, you have been painting, kitchengirl,” he quips, leveling you with something resembling mirth, if it didn’t make you stir with unwarranted desire.
“Yes.”
A hum reverberates low in his throat, appraising. “Good.”
“Thank you for your gifts,” you say. A frog suddenly becomes stuck in your throat—he makes you nervous, but you know he would never hurt you. A different kind of nervousness, more akin to birds flapping their wings on the inside of your stomach.
“Can I see it?” He pries.
“But, it is not done.”
“Not done?” He frowns. “And all these weeks I have been gone.”
“It is slow work. I’m getting it just right.”
In truth, you do not want him to see that his face is plastered on all your practice rounds. Parchment after parchment, rendered in color and in charcoal; Pero’s smiling face; Pero’s mysterious eyes; the many iterations of his nose that took you months to finally get correct.
Ignorant of your stirring belly and rapid heart rate, Pero releases your wrist, letting it fall back to your side. “But you will let me see it. One day.” 
“If you wish.”
“I do,” he intones.
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The steam comes off his body in droves. The inn’s room is stuffy with the humidity of the tub, and Pero is reclining against the rim. There is nothing but the gentle lapping of the water as he shifts in the tub of hot water, and the soothing tones of your light banter with each other as the morning progresses.
He has removed the sling, but his weaker, injured right arm stays close to his torso, limp yet unmarred.
“Your lover’s husband discovered you, thus breaking your arm,” you toss over his shoulder, as you sit behind him on a stool, lathering soap in your hands to begin cleaning his dirty hair.
You catch the way his left brow raises, his face contorting into bemused scrutiny of you.
“Is that jealousy I hear?” he poses.
“You hear nothing.” You clean around his ears for good measure.
Pero chuckles warmly. “No, ángel. That is not what happened.”
You are fond of the way the endearment rolls off his tongue. As hot wine slides easily down your throat, warming you from the inside, all the way to your toes.
“You will never guess it,” he chirps, and hums, his eyes slipping closed with pleasure, as your nails abrade lightly along his scalp. 
You rinse out his hair, leaving it thoroughly cleaner than it was before.
“With your injury, how will you hold a sword?” you ask, delicately, gently massaging his shoulders.
Even though your touch is no more than a featherlight brush, he cradles his elbow, wincing as he does so.
“I cannot,” he professes. “The healer told me not to move it for a few weeks. Or I shall never hold a sword or an ax again.”
“Then how will you take care of yourself?”
He is all golden skin, scrubbed clean by your hands. From behind him, you lean far enough that your hands slip under his arms into the soapy depths of the tub, skimming by his ribs, scarred and bruised, and feel the soft rise of his belly as he inhales.
Pero’s head relaxes against your shoulder, his wet hair making a damp patch on your linen chemise. The black of night against the gray mourning-dove color of your blouse.
You’ve never been this close to him. The humidity must be making you dizzy.
“How will you take care, hm?” you repeat, this time, far more temptingly. Your cheek brushes the roughness of his beard. “I want to make you feel good, Pero. Would you let me make you feel good?”
He smells of an intoxicating blend of rosewater oil, the fresh smell of the herbal soap, of musk and heat, and the refined hint of steel. If Pero were a color he would be a midnight blue—the night sky at winter solstice, deep and mysterious, cold and biting, but beautiful all the same. He is the darkest part of night, right before the return of the sun.
“You have a little of the devil in you, ángel, hm?” He purrs it, turning so the pointed tip of his hawkish nose is at the side of your face.
If he is midnight blue, then you are burgundy red—rich and luxurious, the temptation of succulent cherries, the lushest glass of wine, fit only to be enjoyed by the finest of palettes.
“Suppose I do,” you charm him back.
You know you have him when his left hand takes your right one from his belly and he guides you lower still—right to the base of his hard cock. He wraps your fingers around his girth, and the tips of your fingers almost touch each other, but not quite. His impressive length twitches in your hand. Then his eyelashes brush your cheek, and at the first small squeeze you give him, he gives a small, sputtering breath that puffs against your neck.
“Show me,” you husk.
“Like this,” he says, and bites down on his bottom lip, enough you are sure his teeth leave divots on the skin.
Though you cannot see his face, you are able to watch your hands move under the water, between the long shadows of his legs, your arms working in tandem, and the beads of water that fall upon Pero’s tawny chest.
Under the guidance of his hand and yours up and down, his cock only grows thicker.
It is not too uncomfortable on your perch, though you are pressed up against the rim of the tub behind him. Your movements agitate the water, and when you bring your hand to the tip of him, and feel for the foreskin and peel it back it makes his hips lift in the water and his back arch. The reddened head of his cock bobs above the soapy water line, and you gasp at the sight of it, already weeping with a milky pearl of precum.
It disappears far too quickly beneath the surface, as Pero’s hips fall once more. His body sways and pitches with your movements, small grunts and groans that grow louder when you encourage him.
“Does this feel good?”
“Y-yes, yes” he croaks, writhing. He grips the rim of the tub with white knuckles as your rhythm picks up.
Your hand is slick with soap, and his cock slides easily between the fist you make around him. It cannot be long, for he is so starved for touch. So needy. A beautiful flush makes its way down his chest with the heat of the bath water, the ecstasy coursing through him.
You swipe your thumb over the head, drawing a languid circle around it, and trace the vein that runs on the underside of his cock. It drains a reedy sound from Pero. His beard chafes once more on your cheek, the prickly stubble rubbing up against you, and you feel the first press of his lips parting against as he drags them along the underside of your jaw. 
“You needed this, hm,” you say to him with a breezy chuckle, watching the rise and fall of his chest, the skin touched with sun, limber with muscle.  “Has it been so long since you’ve had a warm cunt?”
At that last word, he hisses, nearly chokes. He stutters over the syllables of your name, and it cuts you to your core, makes your thighs clench.
“Say it again,” he whimpers.
“A warm cunt,” you say, and watch him writhe. An anguished moan stirs what little air is between you as you twist your wrist. “Let me take care of you, hm. Let me give you what you want.”
With your right hand working his cock, your left grabs hold of his chin and you turn his head.
“Now kiss me,” you bid him.
It is hot and desperate when your lips connect. He is barely keeping it together, gyrating under the water, so loose and feverish. His tongue seeks yours as if you are nectar, and he is hungry, famished for you.
You relish this side of him, finally releasing the rigid tension that builds up, letting himself be free.
“So, so good to me,” he says, as your lips part and you both drink in air. “Let me taste you, I’ve been dying to know. Your smell. Your cunt, ángel. You are so soft.”
“It’s yours, Pero.”
He plunges forth in another kiss, his moans cut off by the sweep of your tongue into his mouth, sweeping the underside of his lips.
He is so close. His right arm falls back into the water, sending water splashes skyward. Once more, he grips himself and your hand, and speeds up, setting a new faster pace. His lips fall away from yours, the noises he makes are debauched. His hips start to jump; the bath water sloshes, he plants his feet and bridges upward, lifting his hips and his cock above the water line.
Riveted you watch him come apart. He tenses all over, bucking upwards, groaning with his face pinched in the crook of your neck, and his balls tighten. The first spurt of cum lands on his chest—milky white on gold and red. Another falls along his belly, dripping down to his navel, and staining the dark patch of his pubic hair. Even more slides down the ridges of both your knuckles.
It ends when his belly flutters and all his taut muscles give out, and he sinks back down to float at the bottom of the tub, groaning weakly.
You are left gently cradling the base of his cock, all sticky with his seed. His head is heavy, lolling along your shoulder, and because of that the gray chemise you wear is halfway soaked through.
By now, your knees are protesting at the way you are seated, and your arm is a little stiff. You try to pry your limbs away, only to hear Pero’s wheezy breathing resembles more a snore.
“Pero?”
No reply.
“Pero.”
Another snore.
He has fallen asleep, propped up in the bathtub, using you as his pillow.
A surge of satisfaction ripples through you, only to be interrupted by the protestation of your back, having been seated too long in one position on the small bench. You inwardly hush your own discomforts, to allow Pero to enjoy a few moments in bliss, pain free, against your bosom.
You hear more birds out the window, and other sounds float upwards from the inn. There are few travelers this time of year, and many out in the street are busy going to market.
But in this room, it is just you, and Pero.
Eventually, you move, shifting slightly that it causes Pero to lurch, waking up with a rumbling curse.
“It is okay, easy,” you say, flexing your stiff fingers. You rinse him down, clear the streaks of his seed off his chest. “How do you feel?”
“Better,” he says, groggily. His eyes can barely stay open, but then he smiles over at you, a lazy, cat-like curl at his lips. “Allow me to make it up to you.”
He tries to gesture with his right side, forgetting in his post-orgasmic state that it is injured and the reality of his pain jumps in, as he gasps and he clutches his arm, holding it close as he falls back against the rim of the tub with a chagrined sigh.
“Careful,” you chide, finally standing to release the tension in your spine and knees. “You are hurt, remember?”
Diligently, you take care to rinse him thoroughly with more soap, avoiding the spots that ache him. He blinks slowly at you as you do the last of your tasks, rubbing more rosewater oil on his skin and laying out the towels for him to dry.
With your assistance, he rises out of the tub, on shaky legs, and you work to dry him off with a coarse wool towel.
He mumbles something as you rub the towel on his legs, your face level to his cock, while your eyes keep drifting to it as you dry him off.
“What’s that?”
“The stairs,” he says.
You come to stand, wrap the towel around his hips and cinch it into place. 
He lowers his voice further. “I fell down the stairs.”
Pink colors the tips of his ears, you can see the veins on the inside of his wrists, inky blues and purples under the thin layer of his skin.
He sighs, embarrassed. “Sprained my shoulder.” 
“Oh Pero,” you sigh, and sympathetically pat both of his bearded cheeks. “What will I do with you?”
“Do not tell anyone,” he hisses.
You promise not too. “I’ll send your clothes to be washed, you should rest. They will be ready tomorrow.”
“And wear nothing else all day?” he points out.
“I can find extras in your size you can borrow. Now bed,” you order, hands on hips.
You make a mental note to put the bathgirl in charge of clearing out the tub and draining the dirty water at a later point, so Pero can get some undisturbed sleep.
“I am fine.”
His protest is not met kindly, and you both square off in a battle of wills, glaring equally at each other.
“How good is an exhausted sellsword with a broken arm?”
Pero doubles down. “I am fine,” he grates, simmering. “I have dealt with worse.”
“You have been awake all night!”
“Only for you,” he blurts out passionately.
The battle is, evidently, short lived; you both fall into a dead quiet. A furiously scowling Pero saunters to the bed, with the towel around his hips.
“What do you mean?” you utter, gone shy all over again.
He picks up his dirty clothes, the shirt and pants, the boots that need polishing, the mud-caked traveling cloak, and tosses them one-by-one into an even more haphazard pile by the heavy oak door, to be eventually picked up for washing. It is all a ruse to avoid any more eye contact with you.
“Nothing,” he sputters. “Don’t bother with helping anymore.”
More underclothes are tossed angrily across the space.
“Leave it,” you snap.
The flames in their candlesticks tremble with the troubled air, and you with it.
“You came to—to see me?” you prod, timidly.
“Yes,” Pero snarls, brown eyes ablaze. “I am on an errand for a wealthy landowner on the other side of the valley. He hired me as a bodyguard, but since my sprain he treats me as no more than a glorified messenger boy. I took a detour on my way back, thinking he would not miss me. I wanted to—”
It hangs off. His eyes land on you, pent up with a nameless, amorphous spirit.
He looks at you the same way you have seen men on their knees, praying to their god.
Because Pero wanted to see you. To talk with you. To look at your paintings, see how the gift of his jars of pigments was proceeding.
“And,” you begin, no longer trembling. “What will you say delayed you?”
“I will blame the weather,” he says with his typical stoical shrug. “Or say the roads were blocked with the battalions of soldiers passing through.”
Just then a small giggle escapes your lips, despite your best attempts to stifle it, and Pero glowers at your impishness.
“Won’t he notice how clean you are when you do return?” you ask, archly.
It makes Pero sigh through his nose, but his frustration has mostly dissipated and a low breathy laugh cracks through his steely exterior. “I had not thought of that,” he admits sheepishly.
With the air cleared between you both, you set about the charge of making Pero a fresh sling. There is fresh bedding and extra linens, one which you tear up into a large square.
Patiently, but with a small petulant pout, he lets you tie it around his neck and gently place his arm through the loop. Once he is secure, he places his non-injured hand upon your lower back and draws you to him, all so he can place a small appreciative kiss on the bow of your lips.
“Thank you, mi ángel,” he says.
“Rest,” you implore him, promising to return to check on him in a bit. “The cook has an ointment for stiff muscles, I am sure I can find it and bring you some.”
“I meant it.” His large hand cups your chin in a loose grasp, holding you in place. Despite the gentleness of it, there is hidden in it a message of possessiveness that delights you. “I mean to see how well you are getting on with your paintings.”
His lips hang tantalizingly out of reach, smirking, foxlike, at you. “And, ángel, I do wish to return the favor you have given me. I mean to have you on this bed.”
The promise itself makes your eyelids flutter shut, desiring to give in to the temptation. Haven’t you longed for this very thing? For his hands to be placed on your body?
“You will,” you reply, already profusely warm at what the sincerity in his tone. “But later—you wouldn’t want to keep me away from my duties.”
“Oh, but I do,” he hums, aroused at the prospect.
“Later.”
With a small knowing nod, he relents, releasing your chin.
When you return some moments later with the massage oil stolen from the kitchen cupboards, it is to find the Spaniard passed out on his back upon the bed, pleasantly snoring.
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tagging those who interacted with part I, of you want off the taglist please let me know!
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mattmurdocksscars · 9 months
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Amanda!! Could I humbly request a “How the fuck did you manage to cover me in this many hickies?!” with Matthew Michael Murdock for this weekend of sin?
Sorry this took so long!!! This event is closed!
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Your chest heaved as you laid next to Matt, your hands intertwined. He had come home from patrolling the Kitchen and had been in one of his moods. So you'd let him fuck it out and you didn't regret it one bit. You were exhausted but also satiated in the best way.
You disentangled your fingers from Matt's, much to his disappointment, and gently pat his hand before getting up.
"Where are you going?"
"Bathroom. Need to clean up so we can go to bed." He grunted but let you get up from the bed and make your way into the bathroom.
"Come on, you need to get cleaned up too- Matthew Michael Murdock!!" His head instantly popped up from the bed, a confused and concerned look on his face at your tone.
"What? What did I do? Are you okay?" You let out an incredulous laugh and Matt slowly got out of bed, heading in your direction.
"How the fuck did you manage to cover me in this many hickies?!" You asked, looking at your reflection in the mirror. Your neck and chest looked like a battle ground, as did your thighs. Matt had bitten you and left marks before but never like this.
His sheepish face popped from around the door frame and you couldn't help but to laugh at the image he presented. He looked like a kicked puppy that also knew he'd done something wrong.
"I'm sorry?" He tried, not sure yet if you were angry or just shocked. You reached out for him and gently cupped his cheek, easing his worries.
"You better be glad I love you, counselor. I'm gonna be wearing make up for a week!" Matt slowly entered the room and moved to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.
"Or you could leave them. Let everyone know who you belong to." He said it in that voice that bordered on his vigilante voice and it went straight between your legs, much to his amusement.
"Matt, I-"
"You've never covered them before. Why start now?" He pressed a soft kiss to one of the marks on your neck and you melted a little.
"You know why. I have that interview this week and I need to make the best impression I can." Matt growled a little at the reminder.
"Your interview with that guy who's too friendly with you?" It suddenly dawned on you and you shot him an unimpressed glare through the mirror.
"You did this on purpose, didn't you?"
"You know the darker side of me doesn't like challengers. I couldn't help myself. I really am sorry and if you want to cover it up, I really would understand." You stayed quiet for several minutes, thinking it over before sighing.
"Alright. I'll make you a deal. I'll only cover up some of them. And only for my interview. Deal?" Matt purred at your offer and nuzzled his head into your neck, entirely too pleased with himself.
"Deal."
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shy-taylorsversion · 24 days
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Hi, I was wondering if you could write something with Anthony bridgerton and his wife(who is from a lower class than him) having an argument because she did something “wrong/out of class” if it makes sense😭🫶🏼
A/N: yes ofc, omg I love this idea...some of this may be historically inaccurate but so is Bridgerton. this is completely unedited but I wanted to get it out!! Anyway, let me know what you think and what you want next!
Pairing- Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader
Warnings: none :)
Word Count - 972
Sun beamed throughout the morning room, the rays hitting the furniture and causing dust to swirl throughout the air. The room was silent, other than the clinging and scraping of silverware against fine porcelain plates.
Despite the unnatural quietness of their breakfast, she let her eyes wander the room. From the high windows and fine curtains to the embroidered settees and chairs, she admired the grandeur each morning. She always found herself drawn to the pianoforte, wishing she learned as a young girl but never was given the opportunity. Every time she looked around the room or any within the Bridgerton home, her home, the breath in her lungs vanished. There was a part of her mind that never seemed to comprehend what her life had become.
Y/n glanced to the far end of the room where her husband sat at the small table, today's reading on his lap. His brows were furrowed and his jaw was set. He was the picture of agitated and tense. She believed she was the reason, again.
"Precisely how many of the Ton have I offended this time, Anthony?" Y/n said, attempting to hide her weariness by sipping her tea.
Without looking at her, he folded his paper and laid it atop the table.
"What have I done this time?"
Ever the picture of elegance and high society, he manvoured himself in his chair to face her. She met his gaze, unwavering. Exhaustion seeped into her. This was the third time this month, somehow no matter what she did, how she acted, and how hard she tried, she was improper.
"Some of the gentlemen have mentioned their wives complaining that you are-" He hesitated for a moment. "Too friendly with their husbands."
Her stomach lurched and tears burned in her eyes. She held a gloved hand up to her face, trying to stave off the emotion from rising. She was to meet with a few of those ladies in only a few hours. It would be worse if her face was tear-stained and flushed.
"Now I am too nice." She whispered in defeat before finding her voice again. Irritation rose in her the more she thought about the impossibility of the situation. "Not last week was I standoffish and cold, now I am too nice."
"The Ton is very particular and delicate with the matters of decency and manners." He said, his words would typically seem to lend some amount of comfort but his tone was bordering on frustration. "It is something you must learn."
She let out a bitter laugh which caught his attention. Still not used to the improper volume that she often ends up adapting.
"Does it appear as if I am not trying? As if I have not given my all for this, for you?"
"I appreciate your efforts but you must remember you no longer only reflect yourself but the Bridgerton name. My name, my brother's and sister's name, Y/n. It is bigger than you."
She stared at him in disbelief. He acted as if she wasn't aware of this. As if her life for the six months had not revolved around him and his name, the name she took in place of her own. Did he truly not see all she had given for him? How hard she was trying?"
"You knew who you married, Anthony. I was not born into this. The first ballroom I ever entered was the one in this very house. I am learning this seemingly impossible and intricate system of right and wrong. It seems to be a balancing act between being a complete harlot or a shut-in. I am either too nice, too flirtatious or I am too detached and too disagreeable. I cannot win, no matter what." Tears began streaming down her face fueled by a mix of anger and hurt. For weeks, Anthony reassured her that her efforts would pay off and that she was doing amazing. Yet, it seemed as though, the talk of the Ton was getting to him too.
The room was silent once again before she spoke up.
"Why did you marry me?" Y/n said quietly, looking away from him, "You could've had a lady, someone with a title but you chose me. Why?"
Her eyes drew back to Anthony as his chair pushed against the floor. She watched him as he made his way to stop in front of her. He extended an un-gloved hand and she took it. Raising up, she avoided his stare by watching as she smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt. His hand cupped her jaw, finger pushing up her face so her gaze mrt his. His thumb brushed the stray tears still falling.
" I do not care for the opinions of the Ton." He murmured, "My only true concern is for my sisters and for you. The Ton is vicious, truly. They tear apart anyone they do not deem as their own."
"I married you because I love you. " He spoke softly. "I fear I let my frustration with our society affect my demeanor towards you and for that, I apologize."
Brown eyes bored into hers, hand still cradling her face. Her own hands found his chest and she felt his other arm slid around her waist. In the moment, she relived every interaction, every second they shared up until now. The good, the bad, the doubt and the hurt, the love and the magic, and everything in between.
She pushed herself up on to her tiptoes, sliding her hands around the back of his neck. She pressed her lips into his, just for a moment. Their breaths mingled and foreheads pressed into the other.
"We will get through this" He whispered, almost scared to break the moment.
"I know." She responded, molding herself to him once more.
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