#sorry I don’t know how to draw stags

[starlordsandrockets]

The Bet

pairing: college!Peter Parker x Reader: 18+ , fake dating

word count: 9k

summary: You find yourself in attendance of a Gala with Peter Parker as your (fake) date. The two of you end up making a bet: Peter tries to make you fall for him by the end of the night.

a/n: sorry, i found myself in the worst case of writer’s block i’ve had in awhile. ANYWAY, i hope this makes up for it

“All I’m saying is that you’re going to look ridiculous,” Tony spoke. The rim of an almost empty glass of whiskey sat against his smiling lips, “Even Nat’s bringing a date and you two are two sides of the same coin. I don’t see how you can’t put up with a man for just one night,” Your gaze made him choke on his drink slightly, “or, or a woman?” He questioned, unsure of the reason for your deadly glance.

“I-I could get a date,” You stuttered, bringing your own glass to your lips. You crossed your legs, the black dress sat tightly against your knees. A pair of equally dark heels sat on your feet. The shoe dangled off your elevated foot, “I just chose to go stag, more of my vibe, you know,” You laughed it off.

“You’re a real lone wolf,” Tony spoke, “Are those still called bitches? Or is that just dogs?”

“Fuck off,” You groaned, finishing off your glass, “I’ll find a guy at the gala, alright. Spare me,”

“No, spare me,” Tony spoke, placing a hand on his chest dramatically, “Stark bringing along a virgin of an intern. All brain and no game,” He almost slurred, “But I guess that modest dress makes you kind of sexy in a mysterious way,”

“Forgive me for not breaking out my little black dress,” You told him, “It’s a gala. At an art museum, it’s not like we’re going to some night club”

“Oh, we’re not?” Tony questioned, “Then why are you totally pregaming with me right now,” He poured you another glass of whiskey with a shit eating grin.

“It’s the only way I can deal with you,” You admit with a smile, “This way you get a little more tolerable,”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” Tony spoke, raising another glass. However, his toast was cut short as someone caught his eyes, “Ah! Pete! Perfect, absolutely perfect,”

You turned your head, your loose, y/h/c waves twirling, “Come on, Mr. Stark,” Peter spoke, a sigh passed through his lips as he noticed Tony’s buzzed state, “There’s still like, an hour ‘til we leave,”

“Yeah! Perfect, enough time for you to have a drink with us,” Tony smiled, walking towards Peter. He took hold of Peter’s arm, dragging him into the lounge.

Peter wore a black suit, nothing fancy besides the luxury brand Tony had paid for. His hair was gelled into place and it made you laugh to yourself, “What?” Peter questioned as he heard you almost giggle. A subtle blush sat on his freckled nose. A drink found a way into his hand as he stared at you, “Mr. Stark, you know I won’t feel a thing from this,”

“Humor me, kid,” Tony spoke, “Er- us,” He motioned towards you.

You were reclined on Tony’s expensive couch as you bounced the heel that sat loosely on your foot, “Please, I’m being held here against my will,” You spoke, making Peter smile. You extended your arm, placing it on the back of the couch. Stretching, you pinched your shoulder blades without a thought. However, Peter’s thoughts were racing, the position pushing out your chest, drawing all of Peter’s attention to you. He did not think you could consume any more of his thoughts than you already did, but here he was. Knocking back whatever liquid was in the glass Tony had given him, he swallowed it in hopes of also swallowing his dirty thoughts. As he expected, it did not work.

“Y/N needs a date tonight,” Tony spoke as you took a large sip, making you instantly choke. The action was not comical, like in the movies and books, but had you embarrassingly gasping for air and coughing up a lung, “As charming as she is in this very moment, do you think you could do me a favor and not let her show up like that,” Tony spoke, “She’s my intern and I’d hate to have her overshadowed by me, and Pepper, of course. So what better than my intern showing up with my totally-not-an-Avenger, and totally real intern,”

“Are you sure this isn’t another, against her will sort of situation?” Peter questioned as you continued to cough, physically unable to say no.

“She’s not objecting,” Tony placed his hand on Peter’s shoulder, giving him a drunken shake.

***

“After the carpet, I’m finding the drinks and leaving your ass,” You spoke, “I don’t care if people think I’m alone, okay.”

“Yeah… right,” Peter spoke as he sat next to you in the long limo. The two of you sat somewhat isolated from the others. The group was paired off and in their own world, leaving the two of you to realize just how alone you really were, “Me too, I wanted to come alone anyway,”

“Me too,” You added, repeating your previous claim. Your hand found the vodka cranberry that the limo’s bar provided, “I’ve always been alone,” You informed as you brought the glass to your lips, “Why start now,”

***

You felt your stomach turn as the camera flashed. You had yet to place a single one of your black heels on the red carpet of the gala and you instantly regretted the drinks you downed to calm your nerves, “Hell no,”

“You’ll be fine,” Peter spoke, “They probably won’t even bother us if Mr. Stark’s around, not to mention everyone else,” He spoke, “Literally everyone but us,”

“That makes me feel so much better,” You almost laughed, “Thanks,” Your word was blunt. You were used to being in others' shadows. You rushed before Peter, wanting to spend the night the way you were used to: alone.

“Hey,” Peter spoke, unsure how he had upset you. 

Since Peter could remember, you had always been standoffish, never reaching out for company at the compound. Always shutting yourself off in the lab, you would get your work done and leave if it was not too late of a drive. You would crash on the couch whenever Tony refused to let you leave after 1am. Tony never wanted to feel guilt of you overworking yourself in the lab only for you to fall asleep at the wheel on your drive home.

Peter recalled the sight of you sprawled out on the lounge’s large couch, a blanket tossed over you as it barely covered your exposed skin. Peter could not help falling for you after he caught that sight more than a few times. He had helped you through a few too many drinks, holding your hair as you emptied your night into Stark’s million dollar toilet. Peter was unsure if you remembered nights like that.

Peter knocked into you, bringing him back to reality as you stood frozen in front of the flashing cameras, “You’re Tony Stark’s intern, aren’t you?” Someone from the crowd questioned, voice booming over the other shouts, “Is it true you work on the Avenger’s upgrades?” The man asked.

“Y/N calls all the shots for Avengers’ upgrades,” Peter spoke next to you. Your head spun, not only from the attention, but towards Peter, “I- They’d be lost without her,”

He was not wrong. You fixed nearly all the flaws you found in Spider-Man’s suit. They were only flaws due to Peter’s way of thinking. Tony had designed the AI with himself in mind and not Peter, “Smile,” Peter whispered in your ear, sending a shiver up your spine. You could barely see, the white flashes blinding you. Reaching out, Peter placed his hand on the small of your back. Your lips parted, about to snap a sarcastic remark at Peter’s advancement, however, you felt his clammy hold through your dress’s thin fabric, making you smile.

***

“So,” You said, “You’d be lost without me?” Your question teased Peter as the two of you finally made your way into the gala’s main room.

“I can admit it,” Peter spoke, “I don’t have some weird complex like you, or Mr. Stark,”

“Don’t compare me to Tony,” You told him, still a little buzzed from not only the alcohol in your system but also the camera flashes, “God, if I get that bad kill me,”

“If you didn’t fix my suit, I might have by accident,” Peter admitted. He had eventually gotten the hang of his suit’s AI, however the changes you had made allowed him to fully master his potential, “but, yeah,” His words were smooth, “I would be lost without you, honestly,”

“Including now?” You questioned, now realizing you did not wish to face the night alone. Especially now that you have seen the amount of older men that would surely harass you if you found yourself alone, “so, leaving you behind would be a terrible idea,”

“Absolutely terrible,” Peter played along, a smile threatening to curl his lips. He knew your games and when you were hiding your true emotions, “I’m not sure if I could make it through this boring gala by myself. You’d be doing me a huge favor,”

“Yeah?” You questioned, “Then you owe me,” Your eyes searched for any amount of food you could ingest before you had more drinks to get you through the night.

“How is that fair?” Peter laughed, however, he had not made it known that he knew the facade you were putting up, “You know what, fine,” He gave in, “I owe you, whatever you ask,” As soon as the words left his lips he caught you smile, “No, no, no,” He rambled as he heard you laugh.

“Oh you can’t take it back,” You laughed, “This is going to be fun,” Peter followed you at your heels as you searched the huge gallery for food or drinks, “Maybe I’ll hold this over your head for a while,”

“Y/N,” Peter groaned, meeting your eyes. His regret faded as soon as he saw your smiling eyes and grinning lips. He was just glad that you were having a good time.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Your name was called out, attracting your attention as well as Peter’s to a man who seemed to be in his late thirties. He was cute. Peter must have read your mind, or maybe caught on to your swooning gaze, as his hand found the small of your back once again, “Pardon my interruption,” the man questioned Peter’s touch.

“No interruption,” You spoke, stepping out of Peter’s warm touch, “Just simply company, to get me through the night,” Peter stiffened at your words but your back faced him, unable to see the consequence of your claim, “Y/N Y/L/N,” You spoke, extending your hand.

The man smiled at Peter’s misfortune, “I’m glad to have caught you, I’m the gallery’s director,” He watched as your eyes lit up for a moment, “Phil Weston,” Phil introduced, “I was wondering if we could rent some of your work. Give you your own exhibition,” He watched as you stumbled over your thoughts before him, “Or should I be going through your assistant here?” He motioned towards Peter, “That’s what you are right?” He almost degraded.

“I’m a little more than that,” Peter spoke, unable to shine light on just how important he truly is. But you knew, he was sure you would back him up.

“Sure,” Phil spoke, “Well, Y/N,” Turning, he retrieved a tall glass from a woman who appeared behind him mid conversation. The glass of champagne made its way into your hand, your rings knocking against the thin glass. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small card, “Here’s my card,”

“Thanks Weston,” You smiled around the glass. Sticking the card between your two fingers, you flashed it to Peter, “Keep this safe for me,” You jokingly instructed, “assistant,” You heard Phil laugh as he departed.

“You’re ridiculous,” Peter spoke, not taking the card out of your grasp. The dark paper still waved in front of his face.

“Me?” You questioned with a bat of your lashes, with a smile you took a large sip of your drink.

“I know we’re playing a part here,” Peter spoke, “but you’re just standing there while that guy humiliates me,”

“I’m not playing a part,” You told Peter, “I call the shots, remember. And you owe me, I could have said something but then you’d owe me even more,” Alcohol coated your words as you studied the Avenger. A laugh bubbled between your lips as you began to tuck the business card into the small purse that sat at your side, “Forget it, Parker,” You informed, finishing off your champagne, “just help me find something else to drink,”

“I think you should eat something,” Peter spoke. Watching you walk away from him he reached out, taking hold of your wrist, “I mean, with how much you’ve been drinking,”

“Are you worried about me?” You asked with a sly smile, “I know you’re my fake date, but you don’t have to act like it,” Your eyes found a large table ordained with finger foods and drinks, “but I’ll humor you,”

“I just don’t want you finding yourself doing something you regret,” Peter spoke, thinking of Phil. He knew that you had more confidence when you drink. Hell, he hated it. You flirted with Peter almost every time you had one too many but in the morning the two of you could be mistaken as strangers, “Or make a complete fool of yourself,”

“That so?” You questioned as the two of you crossed the tiled floor of the museum.

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” Peter spoke from where he followed at your heels, “Little do you know, I have a decent amount of blackmail on half the compound. Sure it sucks that I can’t get drunk like the rest of you but, not going to lie, I think I have more fun watching you all make fools of yourselves,”

“What are you, a masochist?” You tease as you turn to him, drink in hand. You caught Peter’s stern glance, “Right, right,” You raised your free hand, retrieving a small sandwich, “See, food,” You stuffed the sandwich between your red lips, “Yum,” You spoke sarcastically, mouth full of food.

“How’d I land such a classy date?” Peter questioned, taking a drink from the table. He knew the alcohol would not affect his system but he did not want to look out of place.

“You wish you could land me,” You washed your food down with a large sip of wine.

“Ouch,” Peter spoke around his wine glass. He was unsure if he was just experiencing placebo from the wine but found himself speaking with newfound confidence, “I could land you… if I wanted,”

“Yeah?” You laughed, “I’d like to see that,” You admitted. You would be lying if you said you did not find Peter attractive. You have seen him at work, in the gym, you have seen him change in and out of his suit right in front of you. Peter might have not known but each time, you glanced at his toned body and mentally drooled. You would not mind if Peter pursued you, you just knew better. Peter was awkward and did not show much interest in you until tonight. He was just doing you a favor, keeping you company. He never spoke to you in the compound besides when he needed to, or when he said hello whenever the two of you passed each other in the large building, “But I know better,” You smiled, “know you better,”

“You think I won’t?” Peter questioned, watching you shrug your bare shoulders. He watched as another glass found its way into your hand, making his job a lot easier. You were a horny drunk and he was about to use that to his favor.

“Are you betting me?” You questioned almost excitedly, “Is this a bet? Please tell me you’re giving me another thing to hold over your head,”

“Sure, it’s a bet,” Peter spoke, taking another sip of wine, “But you have to be completely honest with me. No burying your feelings for me,” He informed, “Any time I ask, you have to tell me exactly how you feel,”

You almost gagged, but Peter was right, you should play fair, “Fine,” You rolled your eyes, feeling yourself begin to sway, “When’s the game start?”

“Right now,” Peter spoke, finishing off what was in his glass. Setting it down, he took yours from your grasp watching you shoot him an angry glance, “and you need to start off by telling me exactly how you feel about me,” His words were smooth, somehow forgetting that he normally had to build up the courage to just say hello to you but in this moment he was closing the space between the two of you, “I want to know what kind of a chance I even have,”

“I don’t think you have to work too hard,” You smiled, your lips beginning to numb. You stared up at Peter. Your eyes were able to count almost every freckle on his boyish face and god did you want to kiss them. Kiss him, even, “I’m kind of drunk,”

“Yeah,” Peter smiled, “I figured that much Y/N,” He whispered as if it was a secret.

“And it’s making you look cuter,” You whispered back, watching your words shoot through his heart like an arrow, freezing him in his tracks, “Even cuter than before,”

“Good to know,” Peter muttered to himself as he watched you take the wine glass back from his hand, your fingers brushing against his clammy hand.

***

“How’s the lone wolf holding up,” Tony questioned as he had excused himself from a conversation Pepper found herself in; checking in on you and Peter, but mostly you. Tony’s eyes followed you as you swayed, Peter’s hand supporting your lower back, “I see you’re holding her up,” He motioned towards Peter as you took another sip of wine, “How much has she had,”

“I lost count, but you know her,” Peter spoke, “She’s almost as bad as you,” He somewhat joked, watching Tony smile.

“I’m fiiiinne,” Your voice drew out, “I’m just bored, so I’m drinking. Sue me,” You groaned, turning to Peter, you studied him and how close he stood next to you, “Can we go dance,”

Peter’s eyes widened as he met Tony’s gaze. Tony sent him a suggestive gaze, “Yeah Pete,” He smirked, “You two should go dance, that’d be a much easier way to hold her up,”

“Pleaase,” You almost begged, “I can’t drink if I’m dancing,” You set your glass down, throwing up your hands in your defense.

“I guess that’s true,” Peter agreed, “Excuse us,” He spoke to Tony who sent him a lovey-dovey look, “Mr. Stark, please,” He muttered, leading you away from Tony and to the gala’s live string quartet.

“I love the violin,” You drunkenly gushed, “I’ve always wanted to play,” You twirled out of Peter’s hold as you entered the floor, bumping into a couple who slowly swayed to the sound. A laugh bubbled from your lips.

“I’m sorry,” Peter spoke, “Sweetheart, be careful,” He played along with your roles for the night.

“Hm, sweetheart?” You questioned as his hands fell against the fabric of your dress, “Out of all the pet names, you pick sweetheart?”

“What? You want me to call you dear? Like we’re sixty and unhappy,” Peter’s claim made you laugh, “I know better than to call you baby,” He spoke quietly, watching your nose wrinkle, “That’s what I thought,”

“It’s just so formal,” You teased, “I thought the gala was formal enough, but sweetheart? I’m swooning, darling,”

“Ah, darling,” Peter spoke as you brought a new pet name to light, “I still think sweetheart fits you,” The two of you moved in sync without a second thought as your conversation could barely be heard over the romantic strings.

“I know,” You smiled, “I’m a delight, the sweetest at the compound,” You played along.

“No,” Peter continued, “I think that’s Mr. Stark. But you’re a close second,” He spun you in his hold. His eyes studied you as you twirled before him, your hair bouncing as you smiled, a laugh falling between your lips. Your red lipstick no longer sat evenly on your skin from the amount of drink you had. Peter wondered if he should tell you, wondering if you wished to reapply the seductive red shade, however his eyes took you in instead, “You’re pretty,” The words slipped almost silently past his lips.

In an attempt to cover his claim, Peter pulled you back in, making your head spin. His action was quick, or so you thought, maybe you were just drunk, “Did you- did you just?” You stuttered, somehow his quiet claim made your heart flutter slightly. Peter’s dominant hand left the small of your back as it found its way to the side of your neck.

“How do you feel about me right now?” Peter questioned, it took everything in him to hold your eye contact, his body begging his gaze to fall to the necklace that sat against your skin.

You stared into his brown eyes, his gaze reflected sickly sweet puppy love back into your lone glance, “You called me pretty,” Was all you managed to speak, lost in Peter’s imploring gaze.

“Yeah… yeah I did. And how’d that make you feel?” Peter questioned, “Do you like it when I call you pretty?” He was no longer hesitant, realizing you probably will not remember most of the night, in the morning. Peter stared at your stunned expression, taken aback by his words, “You’re not saying no,”

“I’m just-“ You stuttered. The room twirled and you were unsure if it was from your moving feet or Peter’s sweet words. Returning to Peter’s hold, your hand fell to his chest defensively.

“I-I didn’t think you could get any prettier,” Peter spoke, words intertwining with the playing strings. Clearing his throat, he attempted to recover from his stuttered claim. Although he we determined to win your bet, you always managed to make him nervous, “Your hair looks nice curled and your eyes,” Peter rambled, “Your eyes are somehow making me more nervous than usual,” Your gaze was soft and intent, “and your dress,”

“Spare me,” You spoke, “Tony already gave me shit,” Your fingers fell from the fabric of Peter’s suit, touch trailing. Hand falling, it smoothed over the curve of your hip, “I guess I should have gone shorter,” Your eyes found a handful of women in short dresses.

“No-” His voice was almost desperate, “no- I mean. I like this dress,” He watched you raise your brows, eyes narrowing. Peter pulled you closer to him, building up the courage to express his next claim, “I’d rather think about what’s under it,” His voice was somehow smooth, “rather than seeing you in a short dress,”

“Y-Yeah?” You questioned, looking up at Peter’s blushed complexion. You felt your system warm, the alcohol still having an effect over you, “Want to see what’s under it?”

“W-What?” Peter questioned, his dancing pace slowing, “Y/N,” He laughed nervously. You were doing it again, being a horny drunk, “You’re drunk,”

“And you’re winning,” You admitted, “as much as I hate to say it,” The two of you stood on the dancefloor as the others danced around you. Your hands found their way to Peter’s chest, snaking up to his neck until your fingertips brushed against his warm cheeks, “You’re hot,”

“Y/N,” Peter spoke your name, as if he was trying to make sure that all of this was not a dream.

“Bathroom,” You interrupted.

“What?” Peter questioned, wondering if he heard you correctly, “Bathroom?” He watched you nod, feeling nerves rush through him, thinking all that alcohol finally caught up to you, “Yeah- yeah okay,” He helped you navigate your way off the dancefloor.

“Slow down,” You spoke, a little out of breath from keeping up with Peter’s gate in your heels.

Peter felt your fingers tickle against his skin, not realizing he had grabbed your hand to lead you through the crowds. He felt his confidence begin to crumble as he grew further and further away from the crowd.

The two of you traveled down the museum’s large stairs to the lower galleries and bathrooms. You felt the room begin to spin as you attempted to navigate the large concrete steps, “Shit,” You laughed, “These stairs are going to kick my ass,”

“Here,” Peter spoke, his hand fell from your hold. Reaching out, he wrapped an arm around you.

His hold steadied you but equally weakened your knees. Peter’s fingers dug into your shoulder as you looked towards him.

“What?” Peter questioned. Your gate slowed as you studied his face. You never thought he could get more handsome, but here he was helping you down a large staircase like you were some princess in a giant castle. 

Did that make him the prince? Of course it did.

“I’m fucked,” You laughed, your claim was under your breath, however Peter’s hearing still picked up on it.

The claim, unknown to him, was because you found yourself falling even harder for him; however, he thought you were about to get sick. Slipping his free hand behind your knees, he easily scooped you up, literally sweeping you off your feet.

“What are you-“ You felt your face heat up at the sudden advancement, “What if someone sees- there’s cameras-“

Peter did not respond, he was far too focused on getting you to the bathroom. The remaining flight of stairs passed quickly under his shiny black shoes. Turning the stair’s corner, he brought you to the bathroom door that was tucked under the concrete stairs.

“What-What was that?” You questioned, hands gripping Peter’s shoulder, while the other found his hand that gripped underneath your thigh.

“I- What? What do you mean?” Peter questioned right back, “I thought you had too much to drink,”

“I just wanted to freshen up,” You stared back at him, realizing just how close the two of you were.

“Oh,” Peter spoke, embarrassment reddened his ears as he stared right back at you. Walking towards the wall, he pressed your open back against the concrete wall.

“Pete-“ You vocalized as the cold wall touched your heated skin. Your back arched away and towards him in his hold. Realizing your tone, your gaze fell to the floor.

Peter watched as your chest rose and fell heavily in front of him. The skin of your chest was peaking out with each intake, and it silently begged for his lips. He wanted to kiss you- well, he wanted to kiss you every moment he spent with you- but especially in this moment. Rounding his shoulders he brought his face in front of your downturned gaze. He grew closer and closer with each passing moment, eyes fixed on your own. He breathed a shaken breath, palms growing sweating as he inched closer to your lips.

Like ripping off a bandage, Peter was quick and rough. His lips pressed against yours, pushing you against the museum’s wall. You groaned against him in response to the impact, before kissing him back slightly. However, before you could fully reciprocate, you heard a pair of heels descending the stairs.

“Peter-” You stuttered against his lips, hands pushing against his chest. You buried yourself further into the wall in an attempt to escape his advancement, “Get- Let go-” You watched as your words finally registered in Peter’s brain, his hands dropping you to the floor. You struggled to keep your balance in your black heels. Without a thought, you turned and rushed off into the bathroom.

You placed your hands on the porcelain sink as you stared at yourself in the mirror. If you were not wearing makeup you would have probably splashed your face with cold water, or hell, you would have even slapped some sense into yourself. Suddenly the sound of the bathroom door made you stand up straight. You did not dare to turn your head, to check if it was Peter. You watched as a woman, a little older than you, smiled at you through the mirror. You gave her a weak smile in return, head still spinning in response to the kiss.

You needed to pull yourself together. You were slipping right into Peter’s grasp, not that it was a bad thing, you were just way too competitive. You wanted to win. Opening your small purse, you removed your lipstick. As you applied the shade to your lips, you were far too lost in thought. Staring back at yourself, you were surprised to see that you had mindlessly applied the satin formula.

The woman who had made her way into the bathroom now stood next to you at the sinks. You rubbed your lips together, blending the color evenly, “Having a good night?” You questioned her, preparing yourself for any conversation you would have with Peter.

“Oh yes,” She smiled, washing her hands gingerly, not wanting to bump her diamond bracelets against the porcelain, “I’m sorry for asking- you probably hear this a lot but, what is it like working for Tony Stark?”

**

Peter rocked up and down on his expensive dress shoes. You were taking fairly long. Peter had already calmed himself down in the men’s room after your heated kiss. But now, he knew he would have had time to relieve himself instead. What was wrong with him? It would not have been the first time he had touched himself to the thought of you, but it still felt wrong.

He kicked at the concrete floor, frustrated that your kiss was interrupted so quickly. Suddenly, Peter was pulled out of his thoughts as you exited the bathroom with the woman. You laughed beside her as you locked eyes with Peter, “It was a pleasure talking to you, Y/N,” The woman smiled, lightly setting a hand on your arm, “I’m sorry for keeping her,” She spoke to Peter.

Peter nodded out of courtesy as the two of you watched her climb the large stairs, “What was that about?” Peter questioned, taken aback by the sound of his own voice.

“Oh,” You spoke almost too casually, “She was asking me about Tony. Wanted to know what he’s like outside of the public eye, you know?”

“Yeah?” Peter laughed slightly, “I can imagine you only said nice things,” He joked, knowing how you and Tony bicker, “Obviously,”

“Oh of course,” You joked back. You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. You watched Peter laugh beside you, leaning into you, and that is when you remembered the kiss. You must have visibly stiffened because it caused Peter to freeze as well.

“Y/N,” Peter spoke, watching you hesitate to meet his eyes.

You wanted to touch him, pull him against you and into the kiss that was so rudely interrupted. You wanted him to fill your free time, to watch his eyes squint whenever he smiled at your crude, dry humor, “You win,”

“What?” Peter questioned, laughing slightly. Then it registered, the smile faded on his lips and a slight red flush occupied his ears and cheeks, “Oh,”

“Yeah,” You nodded slowly, “It pains me to say it, but,” You groaned, “God I hate this,” You felt Peter’s fingers tickle the skin of your wrist. Your gaze flashed to the skin on skin contact and then the bathroom door.

“What?” Peter questioned again.

“Peter,” You motioned towards the door with your eyes.

“W-Wha- No! Y/N,” Peter stuttered, “No,” His voice was assertive as you almost pouted in front of him.

You bounced on your feet, silently pleading with him. He stood his ground, “Fine. But maybe I’ll change my mind later,”

“I don’t think you will,” Peter spoke, watching you physically wither, “Come on,” He took your hand and began to lead you up the staircase. You reluctantly followed at his heels, dreading what was to come next.

***

You have made it through three separate conversations with complete strangers, all while Peter’s hand rested on the small of your back. To make matters worse, you now locked eyes with Tony. The fake smile that once parted your lips completely faded in his presence, “The kid still needs to be holding you up?” Tony teased as you gave Pepper a genuine smile.

“Pepper, I don’t know how you put up with him,” You spoke, “Sadly I’m sober,” Tony raised a brow at your statement, watching Peter’s hand return to his side.

“I’m surprised she didn’t bite your hand off,” Tony smiled as a woman approached your group with a tray of champagne, “Thank you,” He spoke to her before he passed the group glasses. He brought his lips around the rim of the thin glass, “You starting to warm up to my intern?”

“He’s tolerable company,” You smiled back, taking a large sip of champagne, “Couldn’t say the same about you though,” The tension between you and Tony hung in the air as Peter and Pepper both apologized to each other silently.

“Why don’t we get some air,” Peter suggested, hand returning back to you. He watched you finishing what remained in your glass before giving him a pressed smile.

“Sure,” You nodded, “Nice seeing you Pepper,” Your eyes did not dare fall over to Tony. You watched his hold tighten on Pepper as Peter’s did the same to you.

The two of you made your way towards a secluded exit, avoiding the paparazzi that waited for everyone outside, “Can’t you just play nice for a night?” Peter questioned after your long silence.

“It’s not like- He does that shit on purpose,” You spoke, motioning back towards the door you found yourself outside, “He always has something to say- something to get under my skin. And it’s not like you stepped in and told him to stop,”

“I like seeing you all worked up,” Peter spoke, not realizing how his claim sounded until it passed through his lips. You looked up at him, “Not- Not in a weird way- Well-“ He stuttered. Peter did like it in a weird way. He liked seeing you flustered.

You watched Peter stumble over his words, his gaze falling off of you, “Mm,” You hummed, your tone was teasing.

“I said not in a weird way,” Peter spoke, watching you lean into his, studying his blushed skin, “Y/N,”

“How then?” You questioned, “I’m dying to know,” Bringing your fingertips to a hair that hung against his forehead, pushing it back into his gelled hair, “Your hair looks so dumb,” You teased.

Taking your wrist, he brought you around the building’s corner, out of sight from anyone who would exit the door. He listened to your mumbled complaints before he took hold of both of your arms. Peter pushed you against the concrete building. The cool surface made you hiss before Peter’s hands snaked up your arms to your face. He cupped your cheeks roughly as he brought his lips to yours for a second time.

And you were so glad he did.

Your hands found his black tie, tugging on it. You loosened the fabric, feeling Peter sigh out of relief. You do not know why you started undressing him, but now your fingers fumbled against his white shirt’s small buttons, “Hey, hey,” He almost laughed against your lips, “Slow down,”

“I just want to touch you,” You admitted, pushing aside the white fabric, studying the soft skin of his neck and chest.

“I thought you loved Prada,” Peter joked. He watched you study the suit. Your eyes scanned his body before falling right back to his skin. Little did you know, Peter had asked Tony specifically for a Prada suit after he heard you obsessing over their latest campaign.

“I-I do.” You spoke, “But… I told you- You win,” Your hands held both sides of his shirt’s collar, “Swing me somewhere,”

Peter watched as you pulled yourself closer, your eyes studying his lips. He was clearly an idiot, not acting on impulse. Peter had wanted you for so long, and he hated how this was all happening now, “I, I don’t have my suit on me,” He rambled, watching you pout in front of him. Words mumbled past your lips as you tried to protest, “It’s not like I can just swing you off as Peter Parker, Y/N, I’m an intern tonight. Right? So I can’t just swing you through the city to do whatever I want to you,”

The words fell from Peter’s lips, making yours curl into a subtle smile, “What would you do?”

“What?” Peter questioned, watching you lean back against the building.

“You’d do whatever you wanted to me?” You repeated, “What would you do to me?” Peter stood, disheveled in front of you. His once pressed and buttoned shirt was wrinkled by your hands.

Peter took a step back from you, “Please,” He mumbled, fixing the collar of his shirt. Your eyes studied him before wandering, “What?”

That is when you spotted Tony’s empty limo.

“Y/N,” Peter’s voice warned as you took hold of his wrist.

“Please?” You questioned, dragging him towards the parked limo.

“Someone will see,” Peter argued back, however, he still allowed you to drag him into the lot of limos and cars.

“Yeah, in a self driving, tinted, bomb and bullet proof limo,” Your words were sarcastic and the two of you neared the limo, “Friday,” You spoke, reaching out to the limo’s hidden keyboard.

“Y/N,” The system responded, “How may I be of service?”

“Unlock the limo please,” Your hand slipped from Peter’s wrist to his sweating palm.

“Mr. Stark has installed a security protocol for you entering the limo,” Friday explained, making you scoff, “The question is: Who is the world’s greatest boss?”

Your lips pressed into a line as you dreaded answering the question, “Tony Stark,”

“Incorrect,” Friday spoke, making you groan out loud.

Your hold on Peter’s hand tightened, “He made me say it and then- and then he just made the answer some bullshit I won’t figure out-“ You felt Peter’s fingers slip between your own, calming you for a moment, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Hey, Friday,” Peter spoke, “Hey. It’s- It’s me, Peter,”

“Hello Peter,” Friday spoke.

“Yeah, h-hi. Would you be able to let us in please?”

“Of course, Peter,” The two of you watched as the limo door opened.

Turning towards you, Peter studied your annoyed expression, “Still want to go in?” He questioned with sweaty palms.

“I’m not letting Tony kill the mood,” You scoffed, bending your shoulders in order to enter the low limo, “I bet he planned this,”

Peter followed you, listening to your mumbled complaints, “Friday, could you go offline? Please?”

”Of course Peter,” The system spoke, “All audio and video recording will be offline until further instructions,” You whipped your head towards Peter, pampered hair twirling slightly, “Uh- Unless you don’t want to do anything anymore,”. He felt his heart rate begin to accelerate as you crawled towards him on the leather seat.

“I thought there was so much you wanted to do to me,” You teased, watching Peter’s shoulders stiffen slightly, “Unless you don’t,”

“I do,” Peter spoke at an embarrassing rate, “I mean… yes,” His words slowed as he studied the fabric of your dress. His gaze trailed over the dark fabric until it found your neckline, the fabric dripping as you leaned in front of him. Peter quickly brought his eyes to yours, not knowing which sight made him more nervous.

“Okay,” You responded. Picking up your knee, you brought it over Peter’s legs. You slowly lowered onto his lap, “This okay?” You felt as if your heart could pound out of your chest.

“Yeah,” Peter chuckled nervously. Your actions were killing him and he did not know if he would be able to hold back. Peter felt the weight of you on his lap, hoping you would not feel just how hard you were making him. Bringing his hands to your thighs, he pushed past the soft fabric of your dress. The fabric pooled around his wrist as his hands trailed up your legs, “shit,”

“Peter,” His name fell quietly past your lips as you placed your hands on his chest, fingertips on his collarbones. You heard him hum in response to his name, “What- What are you going to do?” You attempted to keep up the act, however, being this close to Peter was making you crumble.

“R-Right,” Peter breathed out, feeling his lungs shake as he took in a sharp breath. He studied the skin of your neck as you stared at him. Peter closed the space between the two of you, lips finding the skin he had been studying. His kisses varied, some soft yet some hungry. Peter’s lips parted, his kisses becoming more sloppy as his fingers dug into your plush skin coaxing a whimper from your lips.

The limo air hung heavy with every heated kiss and breath the two of you exchanged. Bringing your hand to Peter’s head, your fingers took hold of his hair. You pulled him away from your neck before you brought your lips to his. Your kisses were equally as hungry and making up for lost time. Hands still exploring his hair, you raked through the gel that held it in place. 

You let out a sigh of relief as you messed with Peter’s gelled hair. A slight smile curled on your lips as you kissed him, “What?” Peter questioned, lips not even an inch away from yours. His eyes studied your smile, teeth appearing between your lips.

“Your hair,” You spoke, leaning back to study it, “Did Tony tell you to wear it like that?”

“N-No,” Peter replied, “I always put gel in. I just used more this time,”

“Yeah well,” You played with a piece of hair that hung out of place, “I like it better like this,”

“Yeah?” Peter smiled.

“Mhm,” You hummed, fingers running through his locks.

“Then I guess I’ll have you do my hair for the next gala,” Peter added.

“Okay,” You answered quietly, eyes now falling to his lips.

“Alright,” Peter smiled, leaning back into you. His lips found yours once more, finding the rhythm the two of you previously shared. 

Peter had no idea how he ever survived this long without kissing you. The feeling of your body and lips pressed against him was enough to drive him insane. He melted against you, fully giving into you. His touch continued to trail up your skin, fingers now tracing the curve of your hips and waist, “Y/N,” Peter breathed out, “Are we doing this? Because I feel like I’m losing my mind-“

“Y-Yeah,” You stuttered, coming back to reality, “We better hurry before Tony realizes we’re gone,” You watched as Peter’s brows furrowed for a moment, “What?”

“I want to take my time with you,” He admitted, “I’m not really a quickie kind of guy,”

“Quickie? What are you, a teenager?” You teased slightly, “You can have me when we get back to the compound,” Peter’s gaze fell from your eyes to the tinted window out of embarrassment, “Yeah? Sound fair?”

“Yeah,” Peter spoke, hands leaving your waist and falling onto the fabric of his dress pants. The sound of his zipper made you realize that you were actually about to fuck him and none of this was a dream, “Let’s make this quick then,”

You brought your lips to his in a rough kiss, pushing Peter’s back fully against the limo’s seat. You raised yourself off of Peter’s lap, allowing him to push the fabric of his pants down his thighs. Suddenly, you felt Peter’s finger push your underwear aside, finger running through your wet folds. This caught you off guard, making you jump, body freezing against him.

“You’re so wet,” Peter almost laughed, “How long have you been like this?”

“The Prada got me pretty quick,” You admitted slightly.

“Yeah?” Peter smiled, “It wasn’t the fake dating?”

“S-Shut up,” You stuttered as Peter’s touch returned for another swift motion between your legs, “We d-don’t have time for this,” You spoke, hoping Peter’s teasing would cease as embarrassment flooded your cheeks.

“Right, no foreplay,” Peter spoke, “Not that you seem to need it right now,” He teased, watching your brows furrow, “Right, right,” Peter spoke, pulling a condom out from the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

“You, you brought a condom?” You stared at the foil in disbelief, for some reason Peter’s action stirred the butterflies that sat in your stomach.

“Y-Yeah,” Peter admitted, “I have one on me if I ever think I have a chance with you… and also when I don’t,” Opening the condom, he attempted to distract himself from your quiet laughter above him.

The laughter continued to bubble past your lips. You were not laughing at Peter, but at how stupid you were for waiting this long to act on your feelings. Somewhere between your laughs, Peter had rolled the condom down the length of his dick.

“What?” Peter questioned your laughter as he pushed the fabric of your underwear aside.

“N-Nothing,” You stuttered, catching your breath from your laughs, “I just- I feel like I don’t deserve you,”

Reaching out, Peter covered your mouth. He somehow felt himself grow even harder as the claim left your lips. His dick bounced, attracting your gaze. You felt your face heat up as you took in the sight before you.

Removing his large hand, Peter caught you in a heated kiss. It was a kiss by definition, however it was sloppy and hungry with barely any rhythm to it. As you lost yourself in decoding it, Peter had lined himself up underneath you and began to enter you.

“S-Shit,” Peter stuttered at how tight you sat around his dick. You were so wet for him and he entered you easily, “fuck,”

“P-Peter,” You returned his stuttering, his name falling past your lips as you felt the size of him, “God- shit, you’re big,”

“Right,” Peter laughed as you gave him the classic, cliche line. But he was big and you were not sure if you could thank the spider bite for that or not. 

However, as the single thought crossed your mind, it soon left as Peter began to bounce you above him, his fingers digging into the skin of your thighs, “Ffffuck,” You moaned from the pressure of Peter’s hands combined with the rhythm he started.

“God you sound so pretty,” Peter groaned as his head tilted back against the seat’s headrest. Your hands, once bunching the fabric of his dress shirt, now traveled to his collar. Your fingers fumbled to unbutton his shirt, hungry for the sight of his soft skin.

As soon as the skin of his chest was visible, your shoulders rounded and lips attached to his collarbone. His skin passed your lips as your teeth marked him, earning a moan from his parted lips.

“Y/N-“ The pain from your mark making only made Peter thrust into you harder and faster, “shit,”

Your hands fell to either side of Peter’s head, holding onto the seat as Peter fucked you. Peter was still holding back, but at this strength, you were still going to be hurting in the morning. You bit into the skin of his shoulder, trying to suppress your moans that only grew louder; screams threatening to replace them, “P-Peter-“ You somehow attempted to speak his name.

“I-I,” Peter almost stuttered, “hate to say it but I’m really close,” He watched as you pulled your face out from his neck, now studying him. He was falling apart below you, everything about you making him weak. Somehow, he felt as if he was becoming weaker just at the sight of you, “Y/N,”

Peter looked as if he was holding on for you, brows furrowed as his teeth dug into the skin of his bottom lip. As you studied his lips, you decided to bring yours to his jaw, showering him in kisses. Some were sloppy and some were rougher than others as you attempted to help Peter over the edge he was holding onto, “Want you to cum,” You whispered against his skin, “Cum for me. Please?”

“S-Shit,” Peter breathed out. The curse rang with a slight laugh as you relieved him. With a few more rough thrusts, Peter filled the condom that was deep inside of you, “I-I wanted to last longer,” He informed, however his claim was cut short by your lips finding his own.

“Later,” You reminded him, “If you still want to-“

“I do-“ Peter interrupted. Clearing his throat at his desperation, he spoke again, “Yeah, yeah I’d like that,”

“Yeah,” You smiled, “I’d like that too,” You studied him as you still sat on his lap. However, that is when you remembered where you two were, “Shit-“ You raised yourself off of his lap. A shutter traveled through you as Peter quickly exited you.

“W-What?” Peter questioned awkwardly as the filled condom fell against the fabric of his shirt. Pulling it off of his dick, he tied it off before tossing it in the limo’s trash.

“How long has it been?” You questioned, nervousness rushing through you at the thought of the gala being over.

Your question made Peter’s shoulders round, wishing the limo’s seat would engulf him, “Was… was I that bad?”

“What?” You questioned as you collected yourself, looking out of the limo’s tinted window, “Wh- No- No. I-I meant how long have we been in here,” 

“Oh,” Peter spoke, attempting to make himself look presentable as well, “We should get back to the gala, “Hey- hey Friday, could you come back online please,”

“Of course Peter,” The system spoke as you placed your hand on the limo’s handle.

“W-Wait- hold on I’m almost-” Peter spoke but his claim was interrupted by your low voice.

“Maybe we shouldn’t get out at the same time… in case anyone sees,” Your words were cautious as if you were dancing around an insult, “Anyone being like the media… or-”

“Or Phil?” Peter questioned quite quickly.

“You know what I mean,” You spoke back defensively, “We don’t need any attention drawn towards you or a Stark controversy,”

“I know,” Peter responded, however you were already halfway out of the limo’s door.

Stepping into the cool night air, you took in a sharp breath. You did not mean to hurt Peter’s feelings, but it was just second nature to you. You always said the wrong things and somehow found yourself in arguments, but Peter was the last person you wanted to upset.

“Needed to cool off?” You heard Tony’s voice call out.

“Not now,” You groaned, however you dropped the attitude as you saw the rest of the group not too far behind him, “Party’s over?”

“Yeah you missed it. Where’s Pete? Was he holding your hair after all those drinks?” Tony asked, eyes scanning for Peter. You walked back towards the limo, hoping to warn Peter of the group’s presence before they could catch up. Opening the door you stuck your head into the vehicle, “I’m surprised Friday even let you in there,” Tony spoke as he approached you from behind. He waited for a remark from you. After all, he programmed the question just to mention you, however you were silent. Sticking his head in, he caught the last glimpse of what exactly was going on in his limo.

You pushed Peter away, who as soon as you entered the limo had caught you in a quite passionate kiss, “Not- not now-“

“Do I even want to sit in this limo?” Tony’s voice questioned, making you jump away from Peter’s hold. You sat down, putting a seat between the two of you, “My limo, may I add. God, I don’t even want to think about what you two did in here. And where you did it”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter spoke, the group’s presence unknown to him after he stopped you in your tracks as you entered the limo to warn him, “We didn’t…”

“Yeah Pete, real convincing,” Tony looked around as he climbed into the limo,  calculating where the safest place to sit might be, “Could you please just let me know if I’m about to sit in the splash zone or something,”

“I…I swear to fucking god,” You groaned, fingers now rubbing circles into your temples, “Can we all just get in and leave?”

“Why?” Tony questioned, attempting to hold eye contact with you as the rest of the Avengers piled into the limo, “Is there just something you’re dying to finish when we get back?”

“If something did happen tonight, shouldn’t you be glad? Took them long enough,” Natasha spoke, giving you a slight grin. Her red hair, once pulled back taut, now had a few loose pieces that fell against her cheekbones, “Plus, spare me. I’m getting a migraine from all that wine,���

“I’m trying to spare you” Tony spoke, fingers falling against his chest. Raising his opposite hand, he flashed the foil wrapper that sat between his fingers, “I don’t know what seat is safe,”

“Peter,” You groaned, covering your eyes as Tony tossed the wrapper towards you. You rubbed your temples as you heard Peter stutter from where he sat on your left.

“I mean,” Tony spoke, pouring himself another glass of whiskey from the limo’s bar, “I didn’t think you’d actually do it. Good for you kid, she’s way out of your league,” Taking a sip, he looked towards you. “So much for lone wolf,”

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[fayes-fics]

Sonnet #29

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

summary: Your husband Benedict and you have a late night tryst in the billiards room of Bridgerton House.

warnings: 18+, smut, minors dni, vaginal sex, oral sex (m to f), fingering, d/s dynamics, possessive/dirty talk, light bondage, drinking, dangerous use of Shakespeare, Anthony’s gonna need to rebaize that billiards table.

word count: 3.6k

author note: Not betaed. I haven’t written anything in years and this may be riddled with anachronisms, sorry. It also turned out less explicit and more romantic than I thought it would *shrugs*. The swaggering, cigar smoking, whiskey drinking Benedict from Anthony’s stag night, is the inspiration for this fic. Especially that cravat. The title of ‘my lord’ used here is part of their d/s play.

Benedict Bridgerton is missing. It has to be after 1 AM, probably later. You’ve woken to find his side of the bed cold and empty. Throwing on a robe and lighting a candle, you head down the backstairs of Bridgerton House. Keen not to disturb anyone but eager to find your errant husband. You’re visiting his family for the week, and tonight the brothers were celebrating their reunion.

You round a corner into the main hallway, then stop short. A drunken Colin is staggering slowly up the grand staircase, falling back almost as many steps as he advances. You bite back a giggle as he eventually stumbles onto his hands and knees, crawling the remainder of the steps. It must’ve been one hell of a Bridgerton boys' night.

Passing Anthony’s study, you’re surprised to see the door wide open. A quick peek reveals the Viscount passed out, head down on his desk. Light snores puffing condensation onto an empty tumbler in front of his nose, his hand still loosely wrapped around it - another casualty of the night's celebrations.

Still no sign of the one brother you are seeking. 

You slip silently down the hallway and into the billiards room you know they had been carousing in. The room is quiet, dimly lit by only a handful of candles. There is a lingering scent of cigars and expensive alcohol. Billiard cues lean haphazardly against disarranged chairs. Quite a party, it would appear.

“What are you doing here?”

His voice makes you gasp.

Benedict.

You hadn’t seen him in the shadows. He leans forward in a chair, the low candlelight now catching his face, a bemused expression tugging at his handsome features. He looks alluring with his sleeves rolled up, a glass held casually in one large hand.

“The bed is cold without you, darling husband”, you chide affectionately, snuffing out your candle and placing it aside.

“I’m so sorry, my love. I was about to come up. Can you believe my brothers don’t have the stamina to celebrate properly?“ he quips, raising his glass in a mock toast. “Care to join me for a nightcap?” He adds, nodding at the decanter on the side table next to him. 

Without waiting for an answer, Benedict pours a glass for you and tops up his own. He knows you enjoy a quality whiskey when it’s on offer. And the Bridgertons always have excellent whiskey. 

He holds out the glass expectantly, beckoning you over. You move forward and take the drink, straddling his legs and lowering yourself onto his knees with a gentle smile. Benedict responds with his crooked smile, which always catches your breath. His free hand rests lightly on your robe-covered thigh as you take a sip. Smokey, almost caramel notes glide over your tongue. Oh yes, this is the good stuff. You can’t help the hum of satisfaction at the taste.

He raises his eyebrow before taking a slow, deliberate draw himself. He’s slightly inebriated but only enough to be playful. You wonder how he has held his liquor so much better than his brothers. Surely some strategy. You finish your drink lazily, feeling content just perched in his lap.

“We have never spent time here alone”, he rumbles quietly, glancing at the door. His hand becomes a firmer touch. From the slight glint in his eye, you can tell that his thoughts are turning intimate. It’s still surprising that just a few suggestive words have you wanting him. The feeling is so sharp and sudden. 

“Indeed we have not”, you murmur, leaning to place your empty glass aside and take his glass to do the same. Your mind flashes an image of you stripping bare for him in this very room. It’s the catalyst to push further into his lap and grab his face, locking your lips onto his. He tastes like cigars and the smoky sweetness of the drink - a delicious combination. You can’t help but deepen the kiss, running your tongue into his mouth and swallowing his slight groan. His hands move to grip your hips and pull you closer.

“Remind me to buy a whole case of this whiskey”, he smirks, trailing his lips down the side of your neck. You reach up into his hair and tug gently; it never fails to make him a little rougher in his ministrations.

“Clearly, I have been neglectful this evening”, he mutters against your collarbone using a slight edge of teeth. Oh yes.

“Please”, you whisper hotly, bringing his face back to yours for a bruising kiss. You hope he can read what you’re asking for.

His hands move, and you feel his thighs flex as he stands. You wrap your legs around him as he carries you a few steps across the room. It seems like no effort for him; the power in his athletic body never fails to impress you.

“Please, what?” He teases as he gently sets you down on the end of the billiards table.

“Talk to me”, you demure, not meeting his eye. Your hands move to release the buttons on his waistcoat. 

Benedict lets out a chuckle. “I rather think I’ve said more than you tonight”, his fingers gently tugging the ties of your robe.

“No, I mean… talk to me…. the way you did last week” you feel your cheeks burn as you finally dare to look him in the eye. You see them grow darker, and his nostrils flare. Now he’s catching on. He yanks off the waistcoat you have unbuttoned, then cups your face with both his hands.

“Oh, what did I do to deserve you?” He wonders with a hint of awe, giving you a brief gentle kiss. 

Before his whole demeanour changes. 

You feel a ripple of excitement in your belly as he sweeps a thumb up to your lips. His grip on your jaw becomes a little tighter.

“Tell me,” he drawls, “just how lonely were you up in that bed, wife?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “Did you touch yourself?” 

You shake your head as best you can, with his hands around your face.

“Good girl” He looms closer, and you have to brace your hands onto the smooth felt of the billiards table behind you. 

“Although, clearly not that good”, he tuts, “coming to me so wantonly. And in my brother's house. Anyone could walk in right now. There’s no lock on that door. Is that what you want? To have my brothers watch as I take you right here?” You whimper at the images he concocts.

His thumb hooks into your mouth, and instinctively you pulse your tongue against it. He growls as you catch it gently with your teeth. He releases his grip and takes a half step back.

“Show me yourself. All of you,” he commands.

This. This is why you crave him so much. He can intuit your deepest desires. 

You scramble off the table and quickly wrestle off your robe and nightgown, letting them fall to the floor. You love the sharp intake of breath he takes as you obey. He drops his eyes covetously to take in the sight of you completely nude before him, flexing his fingers. The sinful gaze has you throbbing already. 

“Get back up on the table” his words are a harsh staccato. You do as ordered, sitting in the same position as before, perching on the raised edge of the billiards table. He pulls your knees up and apart, stepping between your legs. His kiss is urgent and deep, his tongue pushing and rolling into your mouth. One of his hands is in your hair, guiding your head to angles he wants. The other kneads at your breasts, snagging your nipples between his fingers. It’s possessive; the excitement buzzes right down into your core.

He grabs both your wrists, running his nose over your pulse points before bringing them together in front of you like you’re in prayer. “Hold right there, don’t move.”

You watch as he pulls roughly on the knot of his cravat. He hastily unwinds the material until it slips away from his neck — the golden silk glinting in the low light. You gasp as he loops the long strip of fabric around your wrists. Loose at first, then pulls tighter as he ties the ends in a bow. The material is soft but unyielding. 

This is something new. You peek up at his expression; there is a hunger but also a questioning vulnerability.

“My lord“, you exhale. It’s your permission for his silent request to continue.

“You are so perfect”, he groans, diving in for another hard kiss before pulling your tied hands above your head. He lowers you gently until your shoulder blades are resting against the green felt of Anthony’s billiards table. If only he knew what his younger brother was doing right now.

“Stay there. Do not move until I allow it; keep your arms above your head”, Benedict warns.

He hovers over your prone body. The material of his britches brushing lightly against your open thighs is the only contact you have. You squirm, needing him to touch you somewhere. Anywhere. Instead, he uses his words.

“Look at you, Mrs Bridgerton. I can see how desperate you are for me to touch you.” He inhales deeply, “I can smell your need for me. This is how I want you. Always.” His voice seems impossibly low.

“Benedict…” you pant. 

“I want to keep you like this for hours. Naked, at my mercy. Bound in my silks. My muse, my masterpiece.” His speech ghosts air over your skin; this is a special kind of torture.

Finally, he leans down the last few inches separating you and captures your right nipple between his teeth. Your cry is guttural, and he holds your hip bones down harshly as you try to cant up, seeking friction. He soothes the bite with his tongue. He attacks your other nipple with the same fervency. You are so aroused there’s an ache tugging like a hook deep inside. 

“Please, please, fuck me, please,” you chant, knowing that crude word he taught you will rile him. You need him now.

He groans at your curse but says nothing in response. He drags his mouth slowly and sinfully over your rib cage and stomach. Pausing to swirl his tongue around your belly button, he continues down. You hear his knees sink to the floor as his nose trails into your pubic hair. He breathes deep, animalistic, and so so wanted. He drops lower and licks a sharp line through your folds. You cry out, closing your eyes and tilting your head back to bite at the binding on your wrists. 

“Don’t,” he growls. You snap your head back, looking down your body to his face between your thighs. “Don’t you dare look away,” he lightly bites the meat of your thigh, “watch me do this.”

He hauls your legs over his shoulders. One strong arm wraps around your left hip, his hand resting low on your belly. He holds your gaze fiercely as he swirls his tongue slowly around your clit and then applies gentle suction with his whole mouth. By god, he is so good at this. He languidly takes his time, running his tongue all over, varying pressure, pulses, kisses and even little nips against your heated flesh. He never lets you break eye contact. If you try, he stops, and you whine for more. He sucks hard and takes you to the edge, then backs off to gentle kisses, not letting you over. Your whole body burns with anticipation.

“Have mercy,” you breathe.

Two of his long artistic fingers plunge into you. You cry out at the invasion, clenching down on them. He quickly locates that spot which makes you lose all sense. He rapidly strokes, his other hand bearing pressure on the same area from the outside, curled around your public bone. He glows with primal satisfaction as you scream open-mouthed with every stroke.

“Yes, my love, scream for me” his voice is ragged and muffled against your skin “you are so beautiful like this. Wake the whole house; I don’t care. My good girl, mine .” 

He runs his teeth against your clit, and it sends you over the edge, calling his name. He holds your hips firmly open as your body spasms, his strength fighting against your bodily urge to close your legs and curl up against the convulsions. He gently kisses your overheated soaked folds as you slowly come down.  

Benedict stands up smugly, peeling down his braces, watching your body shiver with mini aftershocks, admiring the whimpering soaked mess he has made of you. He quickly removes his shirt while rounding the other end of the furniture. Just as you come back to yourself, strong hands grab under your shoulders. You gasp loudly as he hauls you bodily to the centre of the billiards table. He can be so strong and overpowering when he wants to be. He leans down and kisses you softly to calm your surprise, stopping to marvel at the view down your body, sprawled naked across the green felt, your hands still bound above your head. 

Wanting nothing more than to wrap yourself around his body, you stay lying obediently, just as he had ordered you to. Your eyes track his movement as he stalks back around the table, admiring the flex of his now shirtless torso. It's probably considered scandalous for a lady of good society to be so enamoured with their husband’s body, but you revel in it. He is a beautiful man you have coveted since the day you first saw him. Whenever you have no social commitments to fulfil, at your sanctuary out in the country, your home, you will spend hours wrapped naked around each other, just luxuriating in the pursuit of sensual pleasures and mutual satisfaction. Those are your favourite days. 

A hand encircles your ankle, shaking you from your brief reverie. 

“I hope you were thinking of me,” he smiles indulgently, the sweet husband breaking past the dominating mask you love that he wears for you sometimes, like tonight.

“Always,” you reply, as easy and truthful as breathing.

After a shared moment, his expression turns sinful as he starts to flick open the buttons of his britches one-handed. You watch covetously, wishing you had permission to get up, to use your hands. To reach out and touch him, help him disrobe. 

“I want to touch you”, you whisper plaintively, voicing your thoughts as you watch.

“I know you do, my love”, he smirks, “but not tonight. Tonight you do as I say. You watch me.” You moan as he drops that last piece of clothing from his body. His cock is so perfect and beautiful, standing proud against his body. You want nothing more than to fall on your knees before him and take him into your mouth. He knows he is denying you one of your favourite things by making you lay passively waiting for him. He effortlessly mounts the billiards table, stalking slowly over you on all fours, like a big cat rounds on its prey.

“If only the world could see you now,” he purrs, “my demure wife begging to touch me. You are doing so well, my good girl, not moving those hands, even though I know how much you burn to,” he teases hotly, making sure you look down and watch as he grabs and strokes his hard cock to prove his point. Your breath is so uneven now you can barely make a sound except a pitiful whine. He bows down and kisses your breasts, running his tongue up to your throat, softly biting your earlobe. 

“Please, please….” for what seems like the hundredth time, he has you pleading.

Slowly he lowers his body onto yours. The feeling of his weight, the woodsy masculine scent, all his heated skin finally upon yours overwhelms. Your hands itch to move, grab, hold him in place, but you fight it and obey.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are in your submission? It’s like poetry.” he breathes into your neck.

He reaches down to push your legs wider apart. You press your hips and breasts up hard against him, chasing all the touch you can. You feel him nudging at you and almost want to weep in relief. The moment he pushes into your body is everything—the solid weight stretching you, curling your toes. You let out a long keening sound, shutting your eyes to concentrate on the heavy sensation.

“Look at me”, he orders as he inches in further. Your eyes flutter open to meet his. They are blown wide with lust and devotion. One hand cups your jaw.

“Haply I think on thee…” his voice cadence changes; it’s a gentle lilting sound. His eyes don't leave yours as he bottoms out inside you. 

“…and then my state, like to the lark at break of day….” he slowly withdraws almost all the way. You realise faintly he is reciting actual poetry. A sonnet….? 

“From sullen earth sings hymns…,” His beautiful words settle over you, sinking into your thoughts, heightening every feeling. He kisses you deeply, his tongue invading your mouth as you feel every inch of him slowly push back into you, dragging along all the right spots.

“At heaven’s gate….” he slowly increases the pace and strength of his thrusts, peppering your face with kisses. You moan threadily, pushing your body up against his, kissing wherever you can, twisting your hands against their binding, snagging in your hair.

“Oh god, Benedict”, it’s a plea for more, everything. The hand on your jaw moves, and he traces your lips with his thumb. As he looks down on you, a sheen forming on his brow, you fiercely wrap your lips around his thumb, sucking hard on the fleshy pad. He growls and thrusts into you harder, deeper. You feel yourself climbing as he hits that spot repeatedly, the one that makes you feel electric, a live wire of pure lust. You desperately want to grab his hips, impale him so deep he can't leave your body. 

“For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings….” His voice is wavering now. He hooks both arms under your shoulders and rests his forehead on yours, never breaking eye contact as you both pants heavily into each other's open mouths. He’s taking you so hard, hitting that place where it hurts so good with every stroke. You beg for more, wanting to feel this ache lingering tomorrow, a physical reminder of this, of him, you will carry secretly. 

“That then I scorn to change my state with kings.” His voice breaks into a long groan as he finishes his sonnet. Without stopping his movements, he reaches one hand up and, with an expert tug, releases the knot binding your wrists. You sob a relief and instantly move, wrapping your arms tight around him, clinging to him, digging your nails into his back muscles, cresting your legs high around his hips. Your desire coiled tight.

“Please, my love,” he implores needily, “please come for me; I need to feel it.” The brash character he played for you earlier slipping away; it's just Benedict. Your husband, the love of your life. He moves one hand down to your clit and rubs tight circles. You know you are crying out loudly now, uncaring of anyone overhearing you. 

Your orgasm hits you hard like a blinding light, fracturing and reassembling. Liquid hot and throbbing everywhere, from the static on the back of your head, through the fingers you are scraping over your husband's back, to the waves of wet warmth where you pulsate with a vice grip around his cock. You hear Benedict roar your name, losing all sense of finesse in his movements, and in your heightened state, you hiss encouragements, a litany of things you would never admit to saying, sucking the fingers he had between your legs. He snaps, stilling suddenly, his slack mouth hooked onto your chin. The feeling of him coming is visceral. He curls his body in and around you, still pulsing hard inside you, its warmth spreading.

“Fuckkk, I love you”, he curses, panting hard, not wanting to pull out.

“I fucking love you too,” you counter lightheartedly, revelling in the use of taboo vulgarities, still intoxicated by your high. You bask in his responding laughter, feeling it inside too as he slowly pulls out of your body. He plants a kiss on your forehead, still chuckling deeply.

You lay limbs tangled for more than a few minutes, getting your breath back and enjoying the afterglow. Gently Benedict helps you climb off the billiards table and assists you into your nightgown and robe. Unseen by him, you pocket his cravat, your souvenir. He pulls up his britches, looping the braces over his shoulders, barechested, grabbing the rest of his clothing and bundling them over his arm. He grabs your hand, gives it a tender kiss and guides you out of the room into the hallway.

Straight into the path of Anthony. Arms crossed, looking foreboding and much soberer than last time you saw him. However, there is an intense blush on his cheeks. He scowls at Benedict, but he won't look you in the eye.

“Brother, I suggest next time you feel the need to exercise your… spousal duties, kindly consider exactly where the secret door from my office leads to”, he hisses. “And check it’s actually closed.” 

tagged by request: @mothdruid @foreverlonginguniverse

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton smut #Benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #Benedict bridgerton imagine #Benedict bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton #1k notes omg you guys! #1k notes #2k notes #2k notes holy crap you guys! #THANK YOU

[slytherinqueen123]

a different y/n

tw - parental absence, distant family. i don’t know if this affects any of you, but i just wanted to warn you in case those topics hit close to home ❤️ enjoy!

-mattheo's pov-

-another story in the mini series of y/n and her besties, mattheo, malfoy and blaise-

"hurry up, dumbass, or we're gonna be late!" i yell at malfoy, who's trailing behind flirting with a random muggle girl. not lying, she's good looking, but we have a y/n to surprise.

"ok, baby. call me." he says smoothly, his voice deepening a bit before jogging up to me.

"not cool, man. i was going so well!" he says, scowling. i give him a pat on the back that turns into a whack on the head.

"ok, ok, whatever. but we gotta get going. blaise is waiting and remember, we're surprising your best friend for her birthday. we already knocked it back a day becuase of your preciousness needing to hang with astoria." i shove him in the chest.

"fine. i guess that was my fault. but it doesn't mean you can destroy my chances with a fine as chick!"

i roll my eyes. "you literally have a girlfriend. that girl looks like she sells drugs. she's my type, not yours. c'mon, give me her number." i reach for the little square slip of paper he's clutching with his life.

"nah, i don't think so. besides, you've got y/n. you don't need another girl."

it takes a moment for me to figure out what he's saying, and when i do, i lunge at him.

he dodges.

"sneaky ferret!" i yell as he sprints away. “get your ass back here, malfoy!”

all i hear is his laughter as he dashes away, towards blaise.

• • •

-y/n’s pov-

“y/n, mattheos here!”

her words are muffled from the living room. “mama, i told you. i got his card. and his present. and blaises and malfoys.” i readjust my glasses and fix my apron. 

she appears at the door as i’m tightening my bun. “you’ve got guests, honey.” she smiles and laughs, moving to the side to reveal a grinning curly haired figure, with a familiar cut halfway up his nose.

my eyes widen as i discard the knife and stack of potatoes and run to him. i launch myself into his arms and he takes a few steps back to right himself. “oh my god you’re HERE!” i yell into his shoulder.

mattheo laughs and pats my hair. “hey kiddo, how you been?” i spring back.

“incredible since you got here! i’m so happy i could kiss you!” i shriek.

wait, what?

theo holds back a laugh as i stammer to fix my mistake.

“um- i didn’t mean- that’s not what i-”

he raises an eyebrow. “well, if you think that’s how you feel, we can continue this convo later”

i roll my eyes and try not to blush.

not now y/n.

in my attempt to seem cool, calm and collected i make eye contact with my mother. she’s grinning and giving me a look that makes me uncomfortable.

“umm- where’s the rest of you? or have you decided to go stag tonight?”

mattheo grins. “oh gosh no. malfoys picking up chicks numbers at the gate. i’ll go get him for yo-”

“-no theo, i’ll get him love. you sit down with y/n. who else is there?” my mother asks, dusting her skirt.

“just blaise, mrs y/l/n-” he answers, “-but it’s fine, i can get them.”

“sit, son. i’ll get them. you just relax for a little,” she says lightly, patting his cheek and wincing at the sight of his scar. “poor boy.”

she leaves the room. i awkwardly wait for him to follow me and lead him into the room off the kitchen. i think it’s a drawing room, even though i’ve never drawn in there. my father isn’t one for a child’s art.

mattheo sits down and i follow suit. “where’s your father?” he asks, leaning forward.

“umm, he’s out. with his boss.” we both know that his boss is theo’s dad.

“has he been home?” theo raises and eyebrow at me, cocking his head and waiting for my reply.

“oh-” i swallow. “-um, no. he’s been out since last tuesday.” something changes in his face.

“oh, i’m so sorry. i didn’t know. i thought he’d be here.” he looks sad, because we both know my dad couldn’t care less about me or my birthday.

“it’s fine. he said he’ll be here for my eighteenth.” i say slowly, counting down the years until he’ll be with us on my birthday.

“y/n, that isn’t right. it’s two years away! when was the last time he celebrated with you?” mattheo exclaims.

i suck in a breath. “the year before i met you…”

he explodes. “y/n, that was over ten years ago! even my dad is better than that! he’s only missed one of my birthdays. and that’s because he wasn’t quite… himself.”

“you mean because he was implanted in the back of quirrels head?” i giggle.

he rolls his eyes. “yes. but that’s not my point. he’s literally the worst wizard to ever live, but he still makes time to celebrate with me. his son. and i think your dad should too.”

i feel my eyes grow misty. “i know. but-” he cuts me off with a hug. “yeah. i get it.” mattheo mumbles into my hair.

“yo yo yo, where’s my favourite girly pop?” blaise yells from down the hall. theo let’s go of me suddenly and smiles weakly.

i nod and open the door, greeted with a grinning blaise and bored malfoy.

“dude, if she isn’t even here than why the hell are we- oh hey y/n,” malfoy gives me a salute.

“kids! dinner!” my mother yells. “DINNERRR!” blaise shrieks, running down the hall like an excited puppy. malfoy follows him, sighing and rolling his eyes.

“after you, miss y/n.” mattheo says, bowing and gesturing me forwards. i laugh. “thank you, sir riddle.”

• • •

-blaise’s pov-

“that was epic! i love mrs y/l/n’s cooking.” malfoy groans, holding his stomach.

“yeah, and y/n seemed really happy as well.” i sigh. i just want her to be happy. she’s like my little sister.

riddle makes a funny noise at my comment. “what riddle? you don’t think she was?”

he chews his lip. “yeah, she was. but before you got there, she was… different.” his eyes go lovey and dazed.

i pull him close. “you really like her, hey?” he brushes off the fact. “i just want her happy. like you.” he says quietly, not acknowledging what i said.

“mate, don’t deny it. i can see how much you like her. just tell her already. it’ll make you feel better.” i don’t know when i became the inspirational therapist friend, but i’ll take what i can get.

“i was gonna tonight. but she was so sad when we where talking.”

his eyes darken. “blaise, does your dad love you?”

i stammer for a second. “well, yeah, i think so. does yours?”

“yeah. i think so too.”

we’re quiet for a moment.

“blaise?”

“yeah?”

“i don’t think y/n’s dad loves her.” mattheo says quietly.

“i guess so. but mate?”

“yeah?”

“you love her. and that’s more than enough.”

he smiles a little. “yeah. yeah, i do.”

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #draco lucius malfoy #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x fem!reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo x y/n #blaise zabini

[thebadgerclan]

Abandoned

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Alina Starkov

Summary: He won’t leave her...

A/N: This is a canon divergence from chapter 14/15 of Shadow and Bone, but if you’ve seen the show, you’ll still understand what’s going on

Aleksander climbed the stairs to Alina’s room, his heart beating quickly in his chest.  He’d asked if he could come to her tonight, and while he hadn’t said yes, she certainly hadn’t said no.  It played into his plans to make Alina trust him, yes, but Aleksander couldn’t deny her beauty, her charm, the innate draw he felt to her.  He desired her, but if she said no, he would leave her be, no matter how much he might want her.

But as Aleksander approached Alina’s door, he was overcome with an odd sense that something was amiss.  He knocked on the door, and when there was no answer after several minutes, Aleksander opened the door.  Any semblance of desire he felt withered at the sight that met him: Alina was knelt on the floor, her head in her hands, sobbing.  “Alina,” he said, kneeling at her side.  “Alina, what’s the matter?  What happened?  Are you hurt?”

His mind was spinning with possibilities of what had happened; she’d been stabbed, cut, shot, hurt and left to die.  She lifted her head, her face a mask of pure agony, and Aleksander couldn’t help himself; he took her face in his hands, scanning her for any injuries.  He felt her power brushing against his, strong and vibrant, and there was no blood, she didn’t shy from his touch, so Aleksander discerned she was unharmed, at least physically.

“Alina,” he said, and she opened her eyes, looking at him.  “Tell me what has happened.”  “Mal,” she managed before letting out another sob.  The tracker, Aleksander realized, her tracker.  The one she’d been writing to since she arrived, the one she pined over, the one who had found the stag.  “I saw him, and he…he said such horrible things about me!  About us!  He called me a cosseted little princess, he said you own me.”

Rage flared in Aleksander’s chest, but he tamped it down, forcing himself to remain calm for Alina.  “Oh milaya,” he said, pulling her into her arms.  Alina was desperate for comfort, for reassurance, and she sobbed into his chest.  “Shh, let it all out, Alina.  I’m here, I’m right here.”  She cried for a moment, letting her sorrow envelope her before speaking again.  “He left me,” she croaked.  “I told him to go, but he left.  The Mal I knew would’ve tried to talk it out, but he just turned and left.”

“I know, Alina, I know.”  Aleksander stroked her hair, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.  “I can’t imagine how torn up you’re feeling, but I need you to hear me when I say this.  I am here, and I will never leave you.  Whatever happens, I am by your side until the very end.  As your friend, as your general, as anything you want me to be.”  It was all he could bring himself to say on the topic when Alina was hurting, but he needed her to know to offer stood.  If she wanted him, he was hers.

Alina sniffled, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her kefta.  “I’m sorry,” she said.  “This isn’t why you came here tonight, to see me crying over some ass.”  Aleksander shook his head.  “No, but I don’t mind.  Nothing is expected of you, Alina, nothing will ever be expected of you.”  Alina managed a weak smile.  “Even when I tear down the fold?”  He paused, cupping her cheek tenderly.

Now wasn’t the time to explain his true plans, not when Alina was so distraught, but he would.  He would make her see that Ravka needed a change, and this was the only way to accomplish it.  “Not even then,” he said.  “But I have good news on that front.”  Alina cocked her head as she wiped her tears, and Aleksander smiled.  “What do you mean?”  “My men have found Morozova’s Stag,” he said.  “We head North in two days’ time.”

Alina gaped, and to Aleksander’s delight, she smiled.  “Really?”  “Really,” he confirmed, shifting her in his lap.  “When you have it, you will be unstoppable.  Like I said, you and I are going to change the world.”  She smiled wider before leaning in and kissing him, taking Aleksander by surprise.  He allowed her to deepen the kiss as she saw fit, resting his hands on her waist.

For nearly a half hour, they sat on the floor in each other’s arms, trading soft, tender kisses.  Alina eventually rose and changed into a nightgown, finding Aleksander stripped to his boxers when she emerged from behind her dressing screen.  “If you don’t want me to stay, I can go,” he said, and Alina smiled, lifting the covers of the bed.  “No, I want you to stay.”  Aleksander climbed into bed at her side, pulling her into his arms.  Alina fell asleep snuggled into his chest, any thoughts of Mal far from her mind.

#darklina #aleksander morozova x alina starkov #aleksander x alina #the darkling x alina #general kirigan x alina #shadow and bone fanfiction

[saltyxtides]

BAYDEN WARDEYN. 

“Alright. Alright. I am sensing your hatred.” He said with a tone of amusement. He couldn’t help himself. “I’ll tone it down. But, I swear I turn it up to volume 10 if you go meanie face on me again just because I know you hate it.” He put his hands up in surrender and fair warning.

“I did. I said I was retarded.” He corrected. That wasn’t no one. He was a someone and that’s what he said.

Then she went and had to go and try to convince him that he wasn’t and was even trying to back it up with reasons to prove it.

“Well yeah but that was obvious and you’re always stubborn and don’t listen to me. So, that’s different. It’s part of who you are when you’re around me. It’s like you can’t even help yourself. Whatever I say you have to say the opposite just to be infuriating and then I don’t get infuriated so it infuriates you instead. That’s our jam. It’s what we do.”

If there was one thing he did like about Rowan… er… Celestis it was that she drew all over everything. Bayden was an artist too remember so this was how he kept clicking with her from the start. He still loved drawing his fantasy stags with giants antlers and forever he drew on most of whatever he made with the eyes blacked out, Xed with tears, even on otherwise happy figures.

“Okay. Who does?” He said about pain. “I mean unless you’re into some kinky shit. That’s a different sort of pain though. But, okay I get it. She’s an annoying basic bitch in your body. I’m getting the picture.”

She managed to pull a laugh out of him with the life’s a bitch and not a slut comment though. That had Bayden humor written all over it.

“Oh, I’m gonna swipe you some hella Xanny’s. You know I got connections.”

But, the more Celestis went on the more Bayden got confused again and not because he didn’t understand. He just didn’t see the problem the same way.  

“Okay. Okay. So hold up. If you’ve jumped into other people besides her and somehow you landed in her again last and you hate her, why would you come here while you’re in her? Why don’t you jump into someone cool? Then come here? Or I know, don’t come here and just jump into whoever and use them however you want? Didn’t you ever go through a phase where you tried to practice? I mean this is your special power. It’s a witch skill and you could probably hone it. I can’t help you because I’m not witch, but isn’t that the point of those covens? They help with stuff like this. Why come here instead of to the people who can actually help you?”

He got the gist though and tried to recap.

“So okay. Always you. But, I have to keep calling you Rowan because life. We’re here. You want no one to know. Can I call you Celestis in private?”

Then Celestis’s face changed big time after he said serial killer. Oh fuck. They’d known each other for years. He really thought she’d caught on by now who he was. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. They always did just come together when everything that hit the fan was over. She was just getting wrapped up in his drama when she went back in the woods with him. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Then right as he was freaking out that she was freaking out…. nothing.

There she went with the coffee again.

“I know, I know. We can still do that as soon as I get my privvys back. Okay Double A? Geesh.” He smirked. “The battery talk was worth that right there. That name’s sticking, baby.”

The spoilers of his life.

“Yeah. Sorry. Thought you might have picked up on that one. I try not to talk about it in group. Horrorville Hacker. The Juvenile kid arrested for all those murders years back.” He pointed at himself though he didn’t admit guilt only pointed to say he was the convicted. “I was convicted of that.” Then he just shrugged. It was what it was. “Why do you think I don’t get visitors? Nobody wants to visit me but reporters and mom doesn’t allow it. People wanting to write my book. Mom would never allow that.”

T h y l a c i n e  

His eyes widened at whatever she just said.

“I don’t even know what that is.”

She threw a flower at him and blinked as it hit him in the face. Then he bent over and picked it up. He smelled it before he stuck it behind his ear and stepped up her as she asked if he was sure he couldn’t do any better.

That made him laugh. He almost reached out to stop her and remembered he shouldn’t touch. He pulled his hand back and shook his head.

“Listen. Every friend and even girlfriend I ever thought I had I found out were hallucinations. So, if I could do better it’s only in my head because check this out. When I had privvys, my big relationships included me prostituting myself to earn escape money to a guy who got me stoned all day off property and mostly it was based on drugs, but I pretended that meant something so I didn’t feel bad about myself. I also hooked up with my boss at my part time job to get perks around the hotel which only led me into a crazy world of ghosts and demons and selling me to old fucking men that wanted to kill me and trap my soul there forever. And frankly, It didn’t sound like a bad deal because at least it wasn’t here. Other than that I’m fucking some nurse my mom would fire if she found out that could care less about me and goes home to her regular life on the outside while she gets her little bit of excitement in here, but hey at least I can break some rules and be nurse’s pet, and get away with some shit, right? These are the relationships of my life, Celestis. Literally, that’s it besides my mom and my sister. You can keep calling me princess, but I’m hardly prize pickens. No one’s clammering to hang around Bayden Shannon Wardeyn, the claimed to fame Horrorville fucking Hacker. And hello… you know the population here. You know everyone I do. Tell me there’s anyone better? So, maybe you should think about who you’re asking that question to unless your goal is to humiliate me. If I know you, it is. So, Congratulations. You are the most normal and stable thing in my life. So, there. Happy with yourself?”

Then he took the flower out of his ear and held it up to her like a peace offering.  

       “YOU’RE annoying you know that?”  She seemed to say in such a way that she understood, but found it highly frustrating.  However with the seize fire she could take things a little more seriously now.

       Taking the gardenia’s up to her face, she seemed to need a little cleansing.  Celestis was irritated.  Not even getting into it with him, as she didn't have the energy.  “I sound like the abusive one in this friendship.”  A very small grin showed on her features as she found it a bit comical in the way he described there friendship.

       “On my defense you do && say some stupid shit sometimes.“  It’s not that he’s stupid.  No — Bayden's just the boy in the bubble.

       Celestis knew.  After all the Christmas card she drew of late was inspired by his own artwork style.  It might not have been a stag, but a deer.  It took her a couple tries to get it right, as she wasn't familiar with the form but it was good to practice regardless.

       The first thought that came to mind was 'your-mom!' but she held off the old school commentary.  It was a little to much on the childish side if she was being honest.  More or less shrugging as she was to drained.

       "Yea but what would I owe you Bayden."  Nothing ever really came free.  That lesson well engraved early on in life.  There had to be some catch to this.  So what did he really want?

       Bayden could see the negative in her eyes before she spoke. “Bayden you’re questions never really end!  I’ll answer that one another time.”  A bitterness in her tone as it just was a bit to much to be drilled on why.  Why her choices where her own?  Abruptly, Celestis lost her grip on her anger.  Knowing she did.  She was burning out, as all of this was getting a bit overwhelming after several explanations, Celestis wanted to give up, as she was tired, depressed && frustrated right now.

       Gazing around there surroundings as she wanted to make sure no one was around before she swung around to answer the easier part of his thousand questionnaire.  “Rules are for rules people!  Why do I want some old hag who’s got a stick up her ass to tell me what to do?  Do I look like I’d enjoy being some member in there FLDS c u l t version?  IT’S JUST ANOTHER FUCKING CULT BAYDEN.  Not everyone wants to be a part of something either.  I’ve already explained && said it to you once Bayden.  I am not saying it a second time!!!”  It’s a waste of energy she clearly didn’t have right now.  Celestis was better alone then in the company of others.  Even other Witches.  She did better that way, why she liked solitary so much.  Celestis already had a teacher that had taught her the basics, && she’s improved ever sense.  It’s not the end of the world that she doesn’t have full control over everything.  Did Bayden have full control over everything in his life?  No.  They both were not perfect, but she had it under control.  She knew what it took.  

       “I’m depressed right now.  I’m very tired.  So I’m sorry but you’re asking so much I can barely keep up.  The questions just don’t seem to be ending or getting any easier either.”�� It’s not that she meant to snap at him but a lot of this was emotionally && physically overwhelming for her at the moment.  Even gardenia’s can’t cure depression as they also can’t cure the wear && tear of sleep depravation.  Up close Bayden could see how tired Celestis looked.  There were dark half-moons under her eyes, as the bruise on her face looked brighter in the sunlight but it truly highlighted the redness in the whites of her eyes.

        “BAYDEN. Y e s!  Only time I'm not is if I happen to have an accident, && somehow can't get back in.  I’ve already explained it last time to prepare you in case I happened to lose it."  She seemed to say, as if it was indeed from the conversation before, takes relevance.  If she had somehow disappointed him by acting weird, or if she had started acting like she didn’t know who the hell he was.  No recollection what so ever of his name && the things they’ve done then she already answered him from last time.  

       Why would he ask her that?  “Do what you want now.  Call me whatever. They’ll think you’re joking && fueling my delusions when you call me Celestis out in the open but I just told everyone.  Its not really private information anymore.”  It’s not like it mattered.  She had to throw herself out there to make sure he wouldn’t fall apart.

       Celestis pressed her hand to her temple, a sure sign a headache might come or rather begin.  All of this felt a little to much.  Celestis more than anything desired to go back to her assistant living, fall onto the floor, && crawl into a deep state of insurmountable depression.  As she tried not to think so hard because it went over her head. 

       It was like Bayden had this idea she’s lived in California her entire life && just happened to know what the hell the Horrorville Hacker was.  Bayden underestimated her.  She didn’t know much about him or what happened.  She had no idea what the hell he was talking about.  Utterly lost.  She doesn’t exactly spend her spare time looking up serial killers && murders as if it was a hobby.  

       “Bayden I was interrogated but I have no idea what the hell they were talking about most the time.  Why I passed the lie detector test so easily was because the questions they were asking && what they were trying to accuse me off I’ve never done.”  She also left out she’s also had experience with one.  In the kind of way that tween’s get into things they shouldn’t play with, as she remembered memories of playing around with a older lie detector with a group of other kids once.  Asking dumb questions or playing dumb games to one another.

       “You act like I’m from here but I’m not from California.  I was transferred here from a hospital program.”  Why she didn’t quite understand the degree of the matter of his criminal charges.  She might have a few questions of her own but she’s no longer in the mood to even bring them out to surface value.  To her he’s just Bayden Wardeyn.  “I don’t have the energy right now.”  Sensing that this will light even more questions.  Of course it will.  No doubt.

       Nope.

       Nope. Nope. 

       Nope. Nope. Nope.  

       Celestis avoided one break down in the community room already.  She was not going to start another one in Bayden.  “Keep it that way.”  The weight in her voice told him he should take her advice.  Sensing she was not going to tell him.  Knowing his little animal loving brain of his, it’s just better not to bring it up.  There’s no happy ending for the Thylacine’s, as Benjamin the last remaining Thylacine was treated like shit before he died.  Fuckers.  Angry does not begin there, but she pushed her high strung feelings she had down.

       Celestis was aware only of a numb buzzing in her head.  That was a hell of a lot to process.  Yet she didn’t know how to feel because she can’t relate to him.  She personally doesn’t suffer from hallucinations to know what Bayden really goes through.  She’s a troublesome heathen but she’s never had criminal charges.  Never has she ever killed anyone(s).  She only understood the damage of living in someone else’s body.  Let alone the damage this conversation they were having was having on her in a different way.  Hooked up.  Fucking.  Ghosts.  She was a novice to physical touch && worldly pleasures ( minus a vibrator but they are not allowed on Briarcliff Grounds ).  Sex driven primitive thoughts as she always wondered if she could have sex with a ghost.  Having a fire blaze to life within her, as her body was now too wired from the heat burning through herself.  Never really ever did she like talking about sex.  It just quirked her body into sexual frustration, not that she got sexually frustrated from Bayden’s pained hardships he had to face.  Just the use of the terms ’hooked-up / fucking / ghosts‘ was enough to trigger a bodily response.

       Great now she was not just depressed, exhausted emotionally && physically, livid, she could now add on she was sexually frustrated. Trying to ignoring her new inner complex feeling.  Remembering they drifted a little, as she tried to recall in her head when all this was happening in there lives to get her to stop thinking about sex.  If she had been more aware could she have changed things?  No.  Not really.  She doubted it because he was going to do whatever it took to survive.  Move on && running away from all this.  Deep down, she sensed Bayden knew that HOTEL CORTEZ was just like B r i a r c l i f f  A s y l u m.  He could either be trapped here, or trapped there.  Why he didn’t get the hell out of here like planned Celestis wasn’t sure.  It didn’t seem his mother or sister caught on from the sounds of it.  As all of them were just looking for ways to make there survival && live through that finite amount of time that they had.  He should have left when he had the chance.  Now that there were those mutants to consider, if they couldn’t kill them, then it’s only a matter of time before something goes terribly wrong && there the ones being hunted down like dogs && if someone does die Bayden might get the end of it because of his criminal history if they somehow got covered up to protect who ever is the mastermind behind those experimental mutants.  She didn’t want Clarissa nor Bayden to be around Briarcliff Asylum when that happened.  Not that she’s figured it all out yet.  It’s been on the back of her mind since solitaire so it’s a start.  Yet it was quite a sexual turn off imagining Bayden && Nurse Janet together.  It didn’t feel like a victory that she was right all along but she senses she might be in more deeper then Nurse Janet looked.

       It’s rude of him to assume after all that, that her goal was to humiliate him even further.  Sure!  She could call him Princess Shannon && she just might down the line someday.  Celestis could even go further then that.  She could have made a very nasty jab at his clambering comment through a mean sexual comment because of her sexual frustration she was going through.  Good to know that’s the best she could offer him, as a friend, was humiliation.  It almost tempted her too.  Just because that’s what Bayden thinks anyway, as it made her a bit provoked.  This sure as hell was a train wreck of a friendship they got going on.  But he’s clearly been through enough.  

       It didn’t really sound to pleasant.  Congratulating her for not being a hallucination?  Wishing she didn’t exist?  Guess the both of them questioned her existence in different ways.  && what did being the most normal && stable thing in his life even fricking mean?  Yet she humiliates him when he’s down or that she should humiliate him when he’s down because that’s what he thinks of her.  “Fuck you Bayden,” as she snatched the peace offering adding the gardenia back to the others as she brought it back up to her face to inhale.  It’s rough.  Everything that’s been coming out has been really heavy.

#bayden wardeyn #━━ ✧ spilled ink. | interactions #montywonmom #━━ 🌊 saltyxtides. | ahv

[cheekygreenty]

Hi, I just saw your prompt list for Shadow&Bone!! could you possibly do No. 2 from Angst, but like with a happy ending? Like reader n Kirigan are togeather but then Alina's comes along.. just, please let be happy at the end. I like angst, but my heart can't handle sad endings 😢😢 thank you!!! ❤❤

Future- The Darkling x Reader

(Very very angsty with a happy (?) ending. It made me cry a lil bit writing it ngl)

You trusted him, wholeheartedly. At least that's what you told yourself every day since she came to the Little Palace; the place you had always called home, where you felt safe from the prying eyes of the public.

Yet now, the place was fueled by harsh rumors of him and her. Everywhere you went you could hear a whisper, nobody tried to hide it anymore, the words were always entirely devoted to your crumbling union;

'I thought they were happy'

We were.

'How can he and Alina not be together, it's destiny.'

I'm starting to think so too.

You didn't acknowledge it. Just put on a sweet smile and a brave face. Don't let them see you're hurting. Even in your own home, you had to pretend and lie, which at the end of the day, when you laid in an empty bed, made you exhausted.

He told you she meant nothing more to him than a mere weapon. But that was when she first came and when he still managed to make it to your shared chambers and would whisper sweet nothings as you fell asleep.

It was different now, on more than one occasion you caught a glimpse of them together, him looking at her the way he always looked at you. However much he claimed to be a good actor and manipulator, there was something there and he couldn't deny it either.

You hadn't confronted him about it yet fearing that if you did, the truth would hurt and sting and make all those rumors true. In addition, you haven't seen him in days and the last time you did, he told you to stay away from the wonderful Sun-Summoner.

The truth was you knew deep down in your heart that she wasn't at fault. That she was not the root of the problem. You constantly fought with yourself to stop any hatred you felt towards her. She was lovely, kind compassionate, and innocent. She didn't deserve to feel your wrath.

But with that came the confusion of who to blame. You or Him. It made you tired and weak. The smallest of tasks made you drained and tears would well in your eyes at the thought of having to live another day like this, a day full of questioning yourself and the man you loved more than anything in the world.

No matter how much of a strong person you swore you were, this was taking a substantial toll on you. He had become your support network and he knew it, he loved it. He always said he finally felt appreciated when you came around, that he wasn't alone anymore. He had conditioned you to be this way. When times got tough, he was always your shoulder to cry on.

No doubt that shoulder was now next to Alina. Perhaps they went on a horse ride, visited the Black Heretic fountain, or were enjoying a rendezvous next to the lake.

You didn't want to know, all that mattered was that he wasn't there with you when you were falling apart. Maybe you relied on him too much.

You wondered if he noticed the whispers too, or the way you'd been missing crucial meetings, or even if he noticed you wearing your red kefta more often, ditching the black once you'd heard Genya speak of making a golden-black kefta for Alina, per the Darkling's request.

That was a punch in the gut. It hurt more than him avoiding conversation with you or even his deterrence of touching you. He had bestowed his colors to her when not even three months ago he didn't know she existed. It had taken you a long time to gain his trust and don his signature black yet all she had to do was waltz in and show up. And it hurt.

And now here you were, training the next generation of heartrenderers, as you did almost every day. You had given your life to the Little Palace and its Grisha and this is how you were being repaid. Not even Ivan, who you had shaped into an excellent soldier, had looked your way lately.

'Excuse me Ms. Y/L/N I have an urgent request from the General' You whipped your head around to the young Grisha boy with an obviously hurt look on your face which he couldn't understand.

'Of course' you choked out and took the piece of paper from his hands and watched him in sorrow as he left.

Ms.Y/L/N? what happened to moya sovereignny? You were never one to uphold the formality, but this was just another blow to your confidence. You were no longer referred to as his other half which only meant your position in the palace was quickly dwindling.

You opened the wax-sealed envelope and took out the thick sheet of paper. There was a time when he himself would deliver the news to you himself and use it as an excuse to spend extra time with you.

'I cannot make it to the meeting with the King this evening, attend and report back to me anything relevant, no horse business'

You scoffed loudly, drawing attention from the young Corporalki around you and leaned on the table in front of you. Not even a please or thank you. With the note clutched in your hand and tears of frustration in your eyes, you stormed out of the Corporalki room and towards his war room.

You peeked through the open door and seen him. He didn't look at all busy as he chatted with Zoya, Ivan, Fedyor, and some other Squaller you didn't recognize. Zoya threw her head back in laughter at something Fedyor said but Aleksander kept his stony expression. You threw the door open dramatically and everyone froze.

'Leave us' you cautioned as Aleksander's onyx eyes looked right into your own.

Nobody moved but Zoya was the first to speak ' Y/N, we're actually in a meeting if you couldn't tell' while everyone nodded along, except him.

You never had anything against anyone in that room, but in that moment you couldn't help yourself and used your small science to bring everyone to their knees in front of you, except him.

'Leave us' His voice rang out in the midst of their sharp breaths and chest-clutching. They scrambled to their feet and left one by one, Fedyor quietly muttering 'moya sovereignny' as he passed you which filled you with some courage. The door shut and the sound echoed over the walls.

You threw the note across the room and let it hit his arm. 'Did you forget your manners General? Or does it only apply to the people you claim to love?'

'Funny you should say that Y/N, you haven't attended any meetings in weeks without providing a reason. You're making me look like a fool'

'I'M MAKING YOU LOOK LIKE A FOOL?!' Your tears were now streaming down your face, falling quicker than you could wipe them away.

He stayed silent and that broke your heart even more, he could've said something, anything.

'Aleksander, I'm trying to keep myself together for everyone, I'm trying so very hard to appear normal and happy but I don't think I can do this any longer. The whispers and the rumors, watching you and her-' You slid down the door and sat on the floor, head resting on your knees. '-It's getting to me.... and it's killing me.'

You thanked the Saints you didn't see his face, for the silence spoke for itself. He didn't deny anything or reach out to comfort you. I've lost him.

'All I wanted was a happy ending.' You laughed a sad laugh that pulled at his heartstrings. With your eyes still facing away from him, you didn't see his hand go up to wipe the lone tear that fell down his face or the slight shake in his hands as he did so. He had no words that would comfort you. He knew what he'd done. He'd been avoiding you ever since he realized it. He didn't want to see you cry or see how his actions affected you.

Telling you that it means nothing to him was of no use. You had it in your mind now, forever engrained around his name, the rumors wouldn't stop and Alina was still around. He truly felt nothing of importance for her. All she meant for him was a key to a better future with you.

He approached you slowly, getting down on his knees next to you. He took your hand in his and held it up to his lips. He never prayed, but right now he silently muttered words to all the Saints. Don't let her leave.

'I'm so sorry Darling. Y/N I love you so much.'

'But you love her more' You yanked your hands away.

'NO. no. Y/N. I swear it. You are everything to me' He had grown serious now, he wanted you to look at him. He missed you.

'Then explain why you're parading her around like a Queen, letting her wear your colors, probably sleeping in her bed'

'I have never toucher her in that way. I'm yours Y/N.' Please look at me.

You lifted your head and looked at his beautiful face. He too looked tired, exhausted. His eyes were red and puffy. Saints, I've never seen him cry.

'You will have a happy ending. I promise Darling' He took your face into his hands and connected your foreheads together. 'I promise. I'm doing everything I can to make sure you will, and even if I can't, I swear you will you and our children-'

Children. Aleksander never spoke of them to the point where you had settled with the idea you'll never have them. Something about the desperation in his voice made you believe him, Aleksander was strong, he never gave up but he also never sacrificed himself for anybody. Up until now, you didn't think yourself worthy enough to be saved in exchange for him.

'-I would give up everything to see you and them safe, away from harm's way. Right now, the world doesn't deserve them, but once I do what I have to do, I'll give you children. However many you want, Just stay. Please'

You were borderline hysterical as you melted into his embrace. Weeks of frustration and hurt disappeared into thin air. Aleksander held you so tight you were having trouble breathing but you didn't care. He held you all day and all night. All meetings and tasks forgotten.

He explained everything in detail, from the stag and firebird to what happens if things don't go to plan. He kept nothing from you, not even the stress and pressure he felt. You comforted him as he always does to you. You fell asleep together and dreamed of a life with a happy ending, one where you never had to doubt his motives, you dreamed of your future.

Taglist (if you want to be added, plz tell me!)

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @lostysworld

@0-artemis

#shadow and bone #grisha #imagine #the darkling #the darkling x reader #alexander #alexander morozova #alina starkov #fanfic #ben barnes #general kirigan x reader #black general

[gohyuck]

pairing: head knight!jeno x monarch!reader (reader has genitals attributed to those considered biologically female but no pronouns are actually used)

genre: fluff, mild angst (they discuss an oncoming battle they must prepare for), smut (it’s mostly smut)

word count: 6.5k

warnings & notes (nonsexual): mentions of war/battle, mentions of injuries retained from past skirmishes, jeno is as tall as you need him to be in order to rest your head against his chest without leaning down, it’s kind of cheesy tbh they are disgustingly head-over-heels in love with each other, also a peryton is a fantasy creature that’s essentially a stag + a bird, also i know y’all must be tired of royalty aus but i swear this is almost pwp (except there’s context so there’s plot) so give it a chance (if you’re legal) i guess

warnings & notes (sexual): oral (giving and receiving for both parties), fingering (reader receives), spit kink (lmao sorry), general messiness honestly, mild knife kink (no blood drawn, he just uses a dagger to tear apart clothing), gratuitous usage of the name ‘lionheart’, jeno has a big dick because i cannot stop myself from doing that to y’all for some reason, some choking

special thanks to @moonlit-jeno​ @domjaehyun​ @waithyuck​ for reading parts of it/all of it beforehand!

the soft hours of twilight have their holds on you, chilling you to your bones even as you pull the heavy fur cape tighter around your body. you should’ve pulled something over your thin nightgown, you suppose, something to act as a middle layer between silk and skin and peryton fur, but it’s too late for that. you’re already out on your private balcony, overlooking a kingdom you’d do anything to see the sun rise on day after day. 

far, far past the outskirts of your humble realm, barely visible to your own eye, an unsettlingly large camp of soldiers is finishing setting up camp for the night. you watch as tiny, tiny orange pinpricks - no doubt the fires they’d set to make food, to alert you of their presence - begin to get snuffed out. finally, they sleep.

if you were any worse of a person, of a ruler, you would send your army after them now, hours before the battle is set. perhaps, if you were any less selfish, you would do so regardless of keeping your status as a good and just monarch. if you were any less selfish, you would shake awake the love of your life and hand him his cape after shedding it from your shoulders. you would tell him to rouse his men and women, to arm them to their teeth, and to fight for what is right using means that are entirely wrong. 

as if privy to your thoughts, your head knight stirs in the too-large bed behind you. you turn just in time to see him sit up and twist his body left, right, left as he stretches to rid himself of sleep. it’s too late - or maybe too early - for either of you to be awake. maybe you should have stayed within his warm embrace rather than gotten out of bed to size up the army of the kingdom of crithage. 

even now, you can’t help but strategize, at least on a basic level. crithagians are unused to the cold of your beautiful - but often frigid - ekoria. they won’t expect your people to fall upon them from the icy cliffs that surround their camp, nor will they be able to see over the oncoming blizzard your royal sky-reader has predicted. she has not been incorrect in many, many years. ekorians have, over the years, grown accustomed to heavy snows, among other weather phenomenon, so your army’s visual acuity is not to be questioned. 

that, and your troops are in the hands of the best warrior ekoria has ever had.

jeno. your jeno. your lionheart. you rein your thoughts in just as he pulls open the balcony door, closing it behind him with a soft click as he steps over the threshold separating in from out and warm from cold. goosebumps rise across his bare flesh the moment his skin meets air, and you don’t hesitate to slide his cape off and thrust it towards him, knowing full well that his arms will provide more than enough heat for you. he fastens it with ease, seeming slightly amused at how you’d been using it as a blanket, and gently grabs ahold of your wrist before pulling you into his chest and wrapping an arm around your waist. with his other hand, he takes a corner of his cape and wraps it around you, leaving you enveloped in both his hot-to-touch skin and the comforting fur. 

“they’re out in the valley, aren’t they?” he finally murmurs, leaning to place his mouth against your ear. jeno’s voice is thick and sleep-ridden, still raspy in a way that settles around you, inside you, within you. you lean back slightly, raising a cold hand to rest against the tattoo of a lion that adorns his left pectoral, mane stretching up to his collarbone and encroaching on his bicep. the lion has a scar on its right cheek. you pull away more, eyes landing on the thin discolored line underneath your lover’s same eye. 

it had been a longsword, meant to slash across your throat. jeno, with the speed of a star falling from grace and enough adrenaline to fuel a hundred men, had leapt across you in order to take it across the face. for crown and for country, bard’s songs later regaled of him. for you, he’d whispered to you that same night as you’d stitched him up, using the threading tactics you’d learned from the castle medic as a child. for you. always for you.

“my love?” jeno prods, and you realize you haven’t given his rhetorical question any acknowledgement. you hum, meeting his eyes with your own, and watch as he allows one corner of his mouth to turn up. 

“they only just put out their fires.” you finally respond, moving to be against his chest again. you rest your head against the intricate ink against jeno’s skin, finally letting out a breath of what one might consider worry. the air that leaves your lungs manifests into wisps out in the cold world that surrounds you. your lionheart pulls you ever closer. 

“you need not stress.” he says simply, and an outsider to your relationship would see no cohesion between your statement and his. still, you know precisely what jeno means, why he’s said what he’s said. you turn, pressing your lips against the lion’s forehead. above you, your own lion brushes his lips against your temple. 

“i have an army, a kingdom, even, to worry about, and yet i only fear tomorrow for whatever outcome befalls one man.” you whisper, and even you are surprised to find tears catching in your throat. you do not cry easily, not when you know firsthand how cruel the world can be. 

you only reign because your parents no longer breathe. 

tomorrow’s battle could easily bleed into next year’s war, and while your kingdom is prepared for such a thing, your heart may not be. your people are not belligerent, and neither are you. crithage had been the one to throw the first stone, had sent word that if you refused to relinquish your throne and bow your head, they would aim the first arrow, draw the first blood. no tears had been shed then, not even when you’d paced around your bedchambers, reading and rereading the note signed with blood red ink until jeno had physically pulled it out of your tight grasp. you hadn’t cried, not even when he’d said that he was willing to die if it meant keeping crithage out of ekoria, out of the kingdom you’d both built from ground up after the war that had taken your parents, out of the home you’d created together. 

“wherever you take us, i will follow. wherever you need me, i will lead.” he’d murmured the words against the lobe of your ear, standing beside and slightly behind your throne as you’d written out your reply to crithage in a room full of your advisors. nobody else had moved a muscle then, not even as you closed the envelope with hot wax and the royal seal. 

you’d sent back a much, much shorter letter than their own in response. 

a time and date for battle. nothing more and nothing less.

that had been so many months ago, so far away that the concept of time dissipates when you attempt to organize it in your harried mind. with a hostile army on your doorstep, everything suddenly feels far more real than it has before. your people have been evacuated, your troops have been trained. your lionheart is unafraid to the world, standing tall and proud at your side as he always has.

a sigh that starts from deep in jeno’s chest brings you back to the present. tomorrow is it, you’re reminded. crithage has seiged almost every other state between themselves and your beloved ekoria. if they get to you, they’ll have your head, raised high on a stake they’ll erect outside of the gates they’ll install to the place you call home. if they get to you, it means they’ll have gotten through jeno.

you can’t live in a world without him. it’s a dangerous attachment for a ruler to have, you’re well aware. if other kingdoms find out that your weakness is a person, one that lives and breathes, you’re not likely to ever see your love again.

it’s little comfort that jeno can’t live in a world without you, either. 

“i worry about not being here, at the castle, to protect you,” he mumbles into your hair. “i know that you are perfectly capable, and that you’ll have your own faction of our knights with you, but i- it feels as if i’m about to open my chest and leave my naked heart unguarded, right there for any arrows to pierce.”

jeno’s confession is simple, beautiful in the way the most ornate of daggers are: that is, you feel as if he’s just dragged a sharp edge down the length of your sternum, taking you apart piece by piece. his words cage you in, force you deeper into your own head in a way you can’t afford, not right now. 

“eloquent,” you hum, unable to resist teasing him even as the moment does not call for it. it’s to save yourself from your heavily beating heart. “it isn’t too late to make you my poet laureate, you know. no need to wield a sword tomorrow then.”

“and who would be your head knight then, hm? the current laureate? you want renjun to lead the charge against the crithagians? to be your lionheart?” your lover draws back to ensure that you can see his eyes, glimmering with mirth. renjun is an able man, and one of your best friends, but he is not the warrior jeno is. 

nobody is the warrior that jeno is. 

“such a foolish thing to say,” you smile up at him, lips folding from joking to earnest within moments. the merriment fades a little from jeno’s eyes at recognizing the change in your expressions. “you’re my only lionheart. always have been and always will be, even when you’re too old and gray and slow to be my head knight.” 

“someone seems confident of that happening.” he says quietly, raising the hand at your waist to come up and rest over your own hand that lies against his chest. you swallow, your own spit feeling too heavy for you to stomach, your throat dry and scratchy. 

“who else can have confidence of a victory rather than a monarch?” you ask, a smile that isn’t quite sad - but isn’t quite self-assured either - resting on your lips. jeno raises your hand to his lips, pressing one, two, three chaste kisses to the back and then repeating the pattern against your palm. he does not let go.

the two of you stand there for a stolen moment. you lay your head back against his chest, listening to the thundering of his heartbeat below the ink and skin and muscle and bone. he is real, and he is here. 

he is real. he is here. 

“the monarch’s lionheart, of course,” he murmurs, finally dropping your hand to reach back and push open the balcony door. “we only have four more strokes of time until i must go, my love. is this truly how you want to spend it?”

it’s evident that jeno no longer wants to mull over the what-ifs, not when he prefers living in the present more than anyone you’ve ever known. unsurprising, you suppose, for someone whose livelihood involves strategizing away his own mortality. you allow him to pull you back into your bedroom, immediately more comfortable when the door closes behind you, keeping you in with the body heat of your lover and the warmth of the crackling fire on the hearth in the corner of your room. jeno sheds the cape, draping it over the nearest chair, before bringing you back to his chest by placing his large hands against your waist.

it takes feeling his fingers against your skin through the thin silk of your slip to remember that jeno has nothing on. he’s always preferred to sleep naked, unlike you. though you hardly have any undergarments on, you at least wear a sheer gown most nights. 

you’d ridden him passionately before bed, tiring both of you out in order to get any semblance of sleep. as your lionheart pulls you flush against him, though, it’s difficult to avoid the way his cock hardens against your hip once more. you want to quip about how jeno’s insatiable, but he trails a hand up, up over your body to swipe a thumb over one of your hardened nipples, and you can’t help the sigh that escapes through your prettily parted lips. 

“will you get on the bed for me, love?” jeno’s voice is smoother now that he’s more awake, though you can’t help but miss the low growl that had come with the earlier rasp. he may be asking you a question, but you know that it’s an order in disguise. wordlessly, you step back, back, back until the wood of your bedframe presses against the soft plushness of the back of your thighs. jeno has not moved, choosing to stay put and appraise you instead. his eyes are hooded now, and as his gaze trails from your neck - he’d marked it up earlier, the kiss-bitten bruises not yet having faded from your skin - down to the curve of your chest, over the expanse of your thighs, he can’t help but reach one hand down to his dick, swiping two fingers over its head to collect his precum on his skin. 

jeno says nothing else, makes no other move. it’s to give you an illusion of control, you suppose. not that you need one. 

“should i rid myself of this, lionheart?” you ask, the words coming out breathier than intended. the nightgown leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, and you’re sure he can even see the slick wetness that’s pooling against your inner thighs. jeno adores seeing your body more than anything, but the gown does not inhibit that. 

it’s no surprise, then, when he shakes his head no, instead finally moving to stand at the edge of the bed, slotting himself between your thighs as they naturally move apart to fit him in. his clean hand slides up under your gown, resting just above your cunt, as he raises his other hand to your face. 

“lie back, and open.” jeno states, no air of leniency about him anymore. you oblige, and your love leans over you, his dark gaze centered on your parted lips. 

he lays his two precum-coated fingertips against your tongue, pressing in and then down and revelling when you don’t gag but instead run your tongue over his fingers, cleaning them off for him. you haven’t gagged in a long time, your reflexes getting used to him in the way the rest of you is. when he withdraws his hand, your mouth stays open, and jeno can’t help himself as he leans over you and, after gathering it in his own mouth for a moment, allows his own spit to fall from his own tongue and onto yours. 

your eyes go wide at the action, and you know that he notices it even as he does not acknowledge it. even so, you don’t miss the smirk that crosses his face upon hearing your breath hitch. jeno has you in his palm.

satisfied, he stands, and you close your mouth and swallow a part of him with a part of you. jeno’s no longer looking at your face, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when he’s ruching up your nightgown with growing hunger, not when he’s kneeling on the stone ground just to make himself eye-level with your pretty, pretty pussy. 

“i took you hardly any time ago,” he murmurs, breath hot against your skin as his mouth nears where you so desperately need him. “and yet here you are, laid open once more, all for me. only for me.”

“always you, jeno, please - ” you can’t get any more words out, the air being pulled out of you as he dives in and circles your clit with his tongue, bringing his two spit-soaked fingers up to press into you with almost no resistance. your reaction is instantaneous, walls clenching like a vice around his fingers as he lays a filthy kiss against your bundle of nerves, hips jumping up only to be kept down by jeno’s other hand, pressing down against the bottom of your stomach. 

“patience.” he pulls off of your clit just to growl the word out against the skin of your inner thigh, and the wet heat of his mouth directly against your flesh has you practically gasping out. when jeno sinks his teeth into your thigh as he’s often wont to do, you let out a full-bodied whine, the kind that starts in the back of your throat and rises up through the inner column of your neck, meant only for your lover’s ears. jeno laves his tongue over the marks he’s just created, as if to wash the pleasurable pain from your body. 

he does not reattach his mouth to your core, choosing instead to fall back and watch, eyes trained, as he scissors you open. with hardly any warning rather than his gaze jumping up to meet your own momentarily, jeno presses his thumb into your clit, using your slick wetness to eliminate any raw friction as he rubs slow circles against your nerve endings. he’s never failed to bring you to the edge with ease, and now is no different. you’d be embarrassed at how easily you fall apart just from his simple simultaneous motions, in and on you, but it’s jeno, and he knows your body maybe even better than he knows his own. 

keening, a loud, gasping wail, falls from your lips only for jeno to rise from his place in between your thighs and swallow your sounds with his open mouth, his clean hand coming up to cage you in against your sheets. the way you raise your arms to loop them around his neck is akin to the way a drowning man would grab on to a lifeline, and once he rises you pull him back into a longer, filthier kiss, where your teeth click against his and his tongue opens up your mouth the same way it feels like his touch opens up your body. 

you feel as if you’re being flayed, as if hellfire is the only thing comparable to the heat against your skin. jeno steps closer, just by the tiniest bit, and you feel his hand - the one shining with your arousal - brush past your hip before he uses it to wet his cock with one, two, three firm strokes. copious amounts of precum arise from the tip before being pulled down against his flesh with expert downstrokes. your mouth waters as you watch.

“my mouth, lionheart, please?” you finally gain the courage to ask what is on your mind, sitting up on your elbows as you begin to slowly find your strength. your love raises an eyebrow, and not without reason: jeno is a big man, making even you - a literal monarch - feel small at times, and this does not end with his personality or his person: you have never been able to take all of him into your mouth. the ache borders on painful, frankly, and jeno himself refuses to harm you in that way. 

“this, now, is about you.” he responds, and your heart cracks as you register that as a ‘no’. still, you speak again. you need him in your mouth, suddenly. it isn’t just a want. something has to anchor you to the here and now, it may as well be the head of his cock, heavy against your tongue.

“what is about me is about you as well,” you respond, and before he can lay his refusal down out flat, you slide onto the floor - warmer than expected - and tuck your heels behind your bare ass. “i need this. please.”

you’re directly in front of him now, face parallel to his strong thighs. jeno strokes up, squeezes tighter just below his frenulum, and you watch, struck, as precum beads at the tip and then splits into two streams, half sliding down his hard dick and the other slowly-but-surely falling to the ground, hardly a quarter of a step from one of your knees.

“give me your hand, then,” your knight murmurs from above you, drawing your gaze from his leaking cock up past the dainty curve of his lip to his hard eyes. “now.”

when you raise your hand up, you only put it up limply, unsure of what he means to do with the limb he’s asked for. your eyes must be swimming with questions, because jeno gives you a hint of a sweet, reassuring smile before allowing his expression to become stoic again… right before he grasps your given hand and straightens it out, gentler than expected from such a great warrior but harsher than he truly ever treats you. 

he’s passionate. this demonstrates it. 

before you can react, your body following your hand up off of your heels, though only slightly, as he yanks up your hand, jeno leans down and licks up your hand, from the bottom of your palm to the top, all while maintaining eye contact with you. he lets go, though you keep your hand raised, your gaze obviously dumbfounded. 

“a dry hand would rub me raw,” he explains, though the smirk that’s tugging at one corner of his mouth shows that he finds your wide-eyed expression at least mildly amusing. “we do not want that, do we?”

it’s amazing how easily he can get you under his thumb when you give out orders that hold his life in the balance on a day-to-day basis. maybe that’s why he finds taking charge in private so easy. maybe it’s his way of evening your dynamic out. even now, as he asks you an innocent question with no hidden meaning or reaction, you find yourself shaking your head along enthusiastically. no, of course you don’t want to rub him raw. of course you and him don’t want that. 

you raise the hand now deemed ‘not dry’ up as jeno watches, finally, finally wrapping your hand around it. your thumb and middle finger do not meet, no matter how tight you squeeze. your lover lets out a fulfilled groan at finally feeling a touch other than his own on his hard cock, and it’s a beautiful sound. you want more of it. you want more of him. 

as if mesmerized, you lean closer, darting out your tongue to lick experimentally at his slit. he holds his breath, a large hand coming to rest lightly against the back of your head and base of your skull, waiting. you take this as a sign to stretch your lips wider, engulfing the entire tip of his cock in your hot mouth. his grip tightens in your hair, and, in return, you clench around nothing. 

as you struggle to take more of jeno in your mouth, you do your best to stroke the rest of his cock with a tight enough grip to make him feel everything, but not tight to the point where you’re hurting him. regardless of how little you can take on your tongue - not your fault, by any means - jeno seems happy, barely able to stop himself from bucking up into the back of your throat. at this point, you’re essentially just warming his cock, so you pull off with a slick pop to look at him with slightly watery eyes. a string of precum and saliva connects your bottom lip and his tip, and when it breaks, you’re acutely aware of the mixture dripping down your chin and onto your nightgown. it’s no matter.

jeno’s thumb runs over your scalp, just above the bottom of your skull. you close your eyes momentarily to take in a deep breath. 

“you can force yourself down my throat, you know,” your voice is raspy when you speak, eyes fluttering open almost drearily. “i’m not too delicate for it.”

there’s something simultaneously raw and pure about the way you speak, and jeno recognizes that your headspace has changed, just a little. your need truly is all-encompassing now. he must tread more delicately than usual.

there’s so much love, so much adoration in your wide-eyed gaze. he only wishes to return it with the same intensity and double the care. 

“i know, love,” jeno responds, finally moving his hand in order to place two fingers under your chin. he tilts your face up, taking note of the way your eyes run over his tattoo before looking at his chin, then his jaw, then his nose, then his forehead, until, finally, you land on his eyes. you’re a tad bit unfocused, full of need, but that’s okay. you’ll always come back to him. he continues speaking. “you’re so strong. always so strong for me. that’s why you deserve to be rewarded, yes?”

“rewarded?” you’re confused, to say the least, though you do not dislike the direction jeno is suddenly moving towards. he only smiles, gentle and kind and good and yours. all yours. 

“on the bed, (name).” he tilts his own head, jutting his chin towards the bed you’d slid off of earlier. you don’t hesitate to follow, pushing yourself up onto your feet and all but scrambling backwards to be seated against the soft mattress. the blankets are all haphazard and the pillows aren’t straight, but that’s the least of your worries right now. jeno gives no other orders, only stepping closer and, without warning, winding his arms underneath your thighs and propelling you backwards, causing you to land, back flat, in the center of your bed. 

it had always felt inescapably large when you’d slept in it alone. now, it feels welcoming. safe. 

“you’re ready for me, yes?” the tone of voice jeno uses is soft, even as his rough palms push apart your thighs. you nod, murmuring a small ‘yes’ once you realize he’s waiting for you to verbalize your thoughts. this is all jeno needs to climb onto the bed and move in between your spread legs, settling back on his calves as his hands smooth over your hip bones and waist. it’s evident that he’s bent on taking his time with you tonight, likely under the illusion that that is what you want. 

it is not what you want. it is most definitely not what you need. 

“i need you within me, lionheart,” one of your hands clutches at the sheets beneath you while you stretch the other towards your lover, imploring. “soon. now. please.”  

“absolutely impatient,” jeno only chuckles in return, drawing an indignant whine forth from the base of your throat. he looks over your barely covered body once more before finally - almost in slowed motions as if to tease you further - rising up onto his knees. his hands stop moving against your skin, finally circling around the soft meat of your upper thighs. swiftly and fluidly, jeno pulls your body towards his, wrapping your legs around his own waist. his wet cock lies heavy against your pelvis, leaving slick precum against the apex of your thighs and the bottom of your stomach. he smirks. “is this what you wanted?” 

the motion of being pulled into your knight had forced the air from your lungs in a surprised yelp, and the feeling of his warm skin - he’s always supplied so much heat, it baffles you to no end - against your own momentarily blanks your mind. jeno repeats his question twice, cocky grin growing with each utterance, before you nod vigorously and sputter out something vaguely affirmative. yes. yes, this is exactly what you wanted, exactly what you want. 

you’ve been growing steadily wetter the longer your foreplay had drawn out, but jeno, ever-caring, still pulls back - his cock sliding against your thigh has you moaning - to slip two thick fingers into you, adding a third when he’s absolutely sure that you can take it. in no time at all, you’re grinding your clit against his rough palm, the friction absolutely heavenly. jeno makes no move to stop you, only gently forcing his fingers in deeper. 

a fourth finger is added just as your abused clit can’t take anymore, and you spasm on his hand as you fall past the point of no return. your second orgasm of the night washes over you, and you can’t help the muted but harried gasps you let out as your hips buck up, driving your head back into the mattress. jeno draws his fingers out slowly, licking your essence off of them with practiced ease. once your body has calmed down, you can only let out a small whimper, still basking in the intensity you’ve just experienced. 

jeno knows your limit, and knows damn well that you haven’t reached it yet. it’s because of this that, even as your walls are still clenching around nothing due to aftershocks that wrack your body, he places the fat head of his cock against your hole and slowly but surely slides in. the hands on your thighs move up to wrap around the sides of your waist, and his grip is bruising as he pushes deeper and deeper. even as he goes at a snail’s pace, you feel as if you’re being pulled apart only to be pieced back together again. you hold your breath.

jeno is halfway in when he realizes you still aren’t quite wet enough. he shifts slightly, carefully moving one of your legs up just a little bit higher, before swiping over your raw clit with a thumb he’s wetted with his own tongue. a moan flies forth from your mouth immediately, and a gush of wetness coats jeno’s cock anew as he circles over your bud with abandon. he’s finally free to surge forward and bury himself within your warm walls without fear of repercussions on your own body… so he does. the breath you’d been holding in is punched out of you, replaced with an honest-to-god wail. tears bud at the corners of your eyes at the stretch, falling as he pulls out almost entirely and slams into you again. 

jeno does everything in his life in order to live up to the name you’ve given him: lionheart. he is just and loyal and thoughtful as an advisor, and analytical and fearsome and ruthless as a warrior. sex is where both sides of him meet. it is where he is not just the kingdom’s bravest knight, or the crown’s right-hand man. it is where he is your lionheart, and yours alone, where your souls intertwine at the place your bodies meet. 

he notices how your hands come up to reach for him, leaning down so you can place one hand against his heart - against his tattoo - and throw the other one over his other shoulder. jeno’s nose is almost touching yours, though your bodies shift continuously as he keeps drawing back and driving his hips into yours with force.

he never ceases to make you feel full. 

your walls grip his cock tightly, amplifying every movement jeno indulges you in. the slide is slick and wet and perfect, but it is not easy. the head of his dick catches on your clenched walls every time he pulls out just to slam back in, forcing you to feel him with everything you have. it’s exactly what you want. 

he slows down his thrusting for a moment as he moves forward slightly, leaning closer still as he places one forearm against your head and raises his other hand to fondle your chest over your sheer clothing. somehow, this is no longer enough for you. jeno’s cock is fully sheathed within you as he swipes a thumb over one of your nipples, and the feeling of his skin pushing the cloth against one of your most sensitive areas has you shuddering in a way that causes you to squeeze even tighter around him. his hips stutter slightly, driving him impossibly deeper into you.

“jeno,” you rasp out, tongue heavy and dry. “my pillow. beneath my pillow.”

his eyes go wide as he processes what you’ve just said, his shallow thrusts slowing down. jeno gulps audibly. 

“your- love, your dagger?”

“need you to touch me.” you respond, holding his gaze and watching it clear up from confused to comprehending you entirely. he pushes himself up from his forearm to his hand, sliding out of you in the same movement. you whine sadly at the loss of contact, but jeno mutters a good-natured ‘be quiet’ almost immediately. 

“you know,” he starts, voice teasing, even as he pulls your dagger - black steel, quillions and hilt encrusted with blue jewels, black tempered glass at the pommel - out from beneath your pillow using the hand that had been fondling you earlier. he moves back down to his prior position, and your breath hitches as he presses the apex of the knife against the collar of your nightgown. “i’m already touching you.”

“more,” you moan out, the end of your word coming out almost breathlessly. one of your hands slides against his tattoo once more, as if feeling the lion will make it roar to life. “touch me more.” 

jeno chuckles, albeit darker than he had been earlier, and digs the dagger into the cloth in front of it without any further ado. you hold your breath willfully this time, not wanting to actually nick yourself on the blade, as he moves down your body, cutting the sheer gown open down its direct center. your lionheart dots his lips against your flesh in a trail in his wake, scraping his teeth against your skin as he sees fit. 

he leaves a quick, but filthy, kiss against your clit for good measure, eyes lighting up as you attempt to close your legs around his head on impulse, only to have them pushed apart even farther than before by his strong hands. once he gets to the hem of the slip, he throws your dagger somewhere on the stone floor - neither of you pay any heed to where it clatters - and rips it apart with his bare hands, hardly able to bear not feeling you around him for much longer. 

before you can do anything or say anything or even think anything at all, your lover surges forward and presses himself back into you with a grunt that sounds almost like a growl. his hands knead at your thighs as he finds his rhythm with ease, pounding into you with practice as if you’re an art medium and he’s a skilled master. he’s everywhere, all around you and inside of you and in the air and in your skin, and it’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“touching - ha - touching you enough now?” he asks, resolve crumbling bit by bit as he fights to keep himself from tumbling over the cliff’s edge before you do. you can’t dignify him with a response, unable to do anything but claw at his back and pin yourself further against his chest as if it’ll make even more room for you in his heart than there already is. he doesn’t need a response, anyways. jeno already knows. 

he knows just how close you are, too. just as close as he is. it’s because of this that jeno moves a hand up to curl around your throat just as he circles your clit with two fingers of the other hand, continuing to fuck into you at the same rate as best he can. with a sharp cry and the arching of your back off the bed, you clench around him for one final time before he comes to a halt, barely holding himself up over you as he releases within you with a shuddering, gasping groan. 

moments pass, stretching into longer than they typically are. jeno takes care as he slides out of you, climbing onto the bed and flopping down next to you right after. the feeling of his release, sticky and wet against your inner thighs, is unpleasant at best, but you can’t bring yourself to clean up just yet. instead, you turn your head to your side, your nose immediately brushing against jeno’s sternum as you realize that he’s turned his entire body towards your own. he lets out an airy laugh at the sensation, pushing half of the sliced cloth off of your body in order to run a wide open palm down your naked side. 

“good?” he speaks first, asking an arbitrary question. ‘good enough to make you forget?’ is what he means, knowing full well that you could never lose thought of what awaits the two of you. the sentiment is what’s important, though, and you let out an agreeable hum as a reply. the sex itself was great, of course. he’s well aware. 

“sleep, lionheart,” you say just as silence attempts to cloak the two of you. “we must be ready soon, as it is.”

jeno gives you no response, and you do not require one from him. instead, he pulls you even closer into his chest as if doing so will protect you from the crithagians across your kingdom. his entire world rests between his arms. you are both tired enough that sleep forces your eyelids closed swifter than expected, and as you fall asleep to your lover’s slowed breathing and muted heartbeat, you can’t help but, just this once, allow your worries to slip off your body as your torn nightgown does. 

just before the rise of the sun, jeno will have to get out of bed and clean you up as best he can before donning his clothing, his armor, and his cape. you’ll put his helmet upon his head, pull his visor down over his face after sharing a kiss that could be your last. it is always like this. jeno will rouse the army, you will dress and arm yourself, and meet with your own private troops. 

as the sun begins to take its place in the morning sky, luckily opposite your gaze, jeno will lead his people into battle, riding his steed far, far from you. you will watch him go, but he will not look back. doing so is unfortunate luck at best. you’ve ingrained this into his mind. 

you do not know whether he will be back or not.

you desperately need him to come back.

all of that will happen in due time, but now, you drift to dreamland, safe in the arms of the man you’ve sworn to be with until the end. he tightens his hold around you, and that is how you spend the night before battle, in total comfort and full of love. no matter what tomorrow brings, at least you have this now. at least you will always have this moment. 

the lionheart and his liege. your lionheart and his love. 

for now, you are at peace in the calm before the storm.

#first #five #tags #dont #work #jeno #jeno smut #jeno fluff #jeno angst #jeno x reader #nct jeno #nct smut #nct fluff #nct angst #nct dream smut #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream

[heliads]

Time Can Heal (But This Won’t) Chapter Eight: Return to Me

You’ve been a lone demigoddess, daughter of Hecate, ever since your home of Hellas sank beneath the waves centuries ago. You loved the Darkling until he crossed you and you fled the Little Palace. Now you’re disguised as a mere cartographer. Can you face him again, knowing what he’s done?

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You will never have your friend back, will you? You can see it in the way Alina walks, the way she clings to Mal even when you’re all alone in the surrounding countryside. You can tell by the hitch in her footsteps when you draw near, or the rattle of her breath whenever you so much as look her way. She sees Y/N Stassov no more, disillusioned by the same spell that saved her skin. No, Alina Starkov sees no fellow mapmaker or friend. Instead, her other traveling companion appears to be no more than a witch, a demon, something that cannot be trusted. It’s a far cry from the friendship you once shared.

You can’t say you blame her. It’s not every day that you find out a girl you thought was a mere farmer’s daughter is actually a half goddess who’s been alive for centuries. It’s not exactly an easy conversation topic, or something you can bring up casually and never mention again. Alina is like most mortals, mind already stretched thin from trying to move past the Darkling’s treachery. This new discovery, even if it can only help her, comes off more as a betrayal.

That being said, this new lack of trust can only serve to hinder the party. You, Alina, and Mal have to get away from Os Alta and the Little Palace, out of the Darkling’s reach and into the realm of Morozova’s stag before your lead runs out. You speak from experience: no matter how long or how far you try to flee from the Darkling, he will always find you. Even a witch’s daughter cannot last forever, so a group of three with sharp divides cannot bode well.

Eventually, your patience runs out and you corner Alina by the rough campfire as she sits, tending the few sparks Mal has allowed while the sun is still dusky and can neither expose the sharp light of a fire nor the thin tendril of smoke drifting up to the sky. Mal is out hunting for the few small game animals in his path; he’ll likely not be back for a while longer, or at least until he senses that you’re talking to his childhood love and he feels the need to protect her once more.

Alina stiffens up as you sit down beside her, although she still clings to the pretense of not seeing anything wrong with you and so she remains in place, even as her shoulders rise and tense as if carrying a weighty burden. 

You click your tongue, mildly bothered. “You are going to have to trust me at some point, you know that. We won’t last for long out here if you keep acting as if I’m a stranger who’s going to stab you in the back at any moment.”

Alina sighs. “I know, and I’m sorry, it’s just- I feel like I don’t know you any more. I mean, the Hellenids are only from the myths. I trusted you with my life, and now I’m finding out that you’ve been lying to me all along. It’s like I have no idea who you are.” 

Your expression slowly falls to mirror her own glum countenance. “I’m still me. That never changed, I just hid the spells. I followed you when we found out you were a Sun Summoner, didn’t I? This is the same thing. I’m not a different person, I just have abilities.”

Alina shakes her head fervently. “This is different. I didn’t know I could summon sunlight or that I was a Grisha at all. I thought I was a normal person, and you knew all along that you’d been living for centuries and had all sorts of powers. How can you ask me to trust you if you didn’t trust me at all? I mean, you could have told me that you had some sort of magic, but you kept it hidden.”

The betrayed edge in her voice grates on your nerves, and you find your throat coating over with bitterness. 

“I didn’t tell you because I know what it would mean for me. I was there when my mother died at the hands of your Ravkans. Have you ever seen a goddess die, Alina? It is not something any of us were truly meant to witness. She hid me away so they couldn’t find me. I was there to watch them stab her through the throat, and I was there to glimpse her last breath. The earth shook and rattled like it would tear itself apart, and my spells were the only thing stopping me from being swallowed up by the sea like the rest of the islands. We were the last of our race, my mother and I, and the Ravkans brutally killed her because they were jealous of her might. This is what happens to witches like me, Alina, they are killed by those who don’t understand them. There is no telling of secrets unless you wish to die.”

Alina looks pale and almost sick with fear as she pictures what you’ve described, but she sticks to her principles nonetheless. “That’s impossible. How could regular people kill a goddess?” 

You choose to ignore the ‘regular people’ bit and simply answer her question. She’s just afraid, you remind yourself, and she doesn’t mean it like that. “They did their research. They stabbed her with a blade made of their own magic, something likely Grisha-made. When you kill a witch with a foreign and unnatural work of magic, you drive a barrier in between her and her healing spells. It was too late for her to do anything except die.”

Alina nods as if she’s committing this to memory. She seems hesitant to speak, so you act on this moment of silence to press your advantage. “You understand why I had to hide it then, don’t you? Why I had to keep all of this a secret? It wasn’t because I didn’t trust you or because I intended on hurting you, it was because I’ve seen too much death to risk it for a friend I made in the mapmakers’ tent.”

The fire crackles, and Alina jumps slightly. You may have explained your side of the story, but she doesn’t seem any more willing to trust you. You sense she has something waiting on the tip of her tongue, and after a few moments, your theory is proven correct. 

Alina glances over her shoulders, as if afraid that the very mention of the man’s name will summon him, then speaks, her voice lowered. “It’s just- your spells remind me of him. My sun summoning was one thing, it was bright. You couldn’t hide anything about yourself with that. Your magic, though, it’s so dark. When we were back in that clearing and you saved us from his Grisha, I thought it was him at first. I thought your spells were his shadows come to kill us at last.”

Her voice is bitter, and you realize that this tone alone will never change. She will always see you in him, just as you can never go a day without seeing him in your own memories and mind. 

You want to say something, to ease the pain in her voice, but Alina is intent on finishing what she has to say. “He talked about you all the time. Did you know that? He had a portrait of you in the hall, and every single thing I did or piece of progress I made reminded him of you. You had a different face then, of course, but he never let you go. Not once. I can’t help but wonder..”

Her voice trails off, but you can read between the lines enough to know what she fears. You make sure to keep your voice gentle, even as your stomach soars at this mention of him. “You’re afraid that if I was so important to the Darkling, I would reflect some habit of his. You’re worried that I’m going to take you back to him, or use your power for myself.” 

Alina looks up, eyes flashing with more than just fervor. “And am I wrong to question you? It’s like I have no idea who you are anymore. You don’t even speak like yourself anymore. You’re as close to immortal as you can get. What would I matter to you if you had him in the way that he talked about having you?”

The fire leaps a little at this accusation, although you pay it no mind. “If I was working with the Darkling, you would already be with him or else be dead. Believe me when I say that. I can waste all my breath on convincing you to trust me, but in the end that should be enough for you. I want you to have the stag so you can be safe from him. I have lived enough time in his shadow, and I want you to be free of him. Trust me or don’t trust me, but you have to work with me if you wish to get there before he finds you.”

You stand up, feeling the need to pace the meager campground before your irritation gets the best of you. Why is it so impossible for her to see that you have continually sacrificed your safety and your future to protect her? When you leave the campfire, Alina makes no move to stop her. You mourn for the trust and friendship she’d once had for you, but in the end, there is nothing more you can do. You have played your hand, she can only accept or push you away even further.

Your party is firmly entrenched in Tsibeya by now, wandering within the snow-coated firs in pursuit of the stag. Mal swears you’re practically on top of it, but yet the beast is nowhere to be found. After the third turn around a white-cloaked forest, you freeze in place. Your head is up, eyes alert and scanning the woods around you. 

Alina turns back to you. “What is it?” 

You jerk your head towards the shadows of the trees behind you. “We are not alone here. There is a group following us. You two go on ahead, try to find the stag. I’ll get rid of any pursuers.”

Alina and Mal appear to have no problems with you leaving their group, and continue to forge on ahead. You send a spire of magic scurrying after them, clearing their tracks in the snow while their backs are turned, then disappear into the forest. You have a feeling that you know who else is in the forest, and you doubt you’ll get lucky enough to run into mere Fjerdan sentries. 

Indeed, it takes you circling around slowly to realize that you can sense nothing at all, and that is when you have your final piece of proof. It’s as if someone is cloaking their footsteps- as if they’re built of shadow entirely. The Darkling is here.

You hurry back towards Alina and Mal. You can only hope that they’ve found the stag and managed to kill it in time, but there’s only so much they can do against a Shadow Summoner who’s been training for centuries. You rush over a snowy hillock and practically trip over the scene- Alina, standing with her arm extended to a mountainous stag, sunlight glowing in the air around her. Mal waits a few feet away, eyes awestruck. If they see you, they give no sign of it.

It only takes a matter of seconds for everything to go wrong. A shot rings out from the space behind the two orphans, piercing the hide of the stag and causing it to crumple to the ground. Mal, too, appears to be seriously injured, and he falls to the earth as well, scarlet stains erupting from his chest and spattering weakly from his mouth. Alina screams as Grisha emerge from the clearing. 

She turns frantically and sees you, gasping slightly in relief even as her panic rises. “Y/N- they’re here- he’s here-” 

A voice echoes from the clearing, sharply cutting off Alina’s terrified whispers. “Yes. It appears I’ve been betrayed on multiple counts, haven’t I? I believed you could do more than this, Miss Stassov.” 

You and Alina turn as one to watch as the Darkling strides into the middle of the clearing, black cloak rolling over the snowy ground as if it were part shadow itself.

You push Alina behind you without even meaning it. There’s an edge to his eyes that almost cuts at you, as if he is truly hurt by this switching of sides. You can’t decide whether it’s real or not. 

“I know what you mean to do, General. I cannot have that for her.” 

The Darkling sighs, appearing to all the world as if he’s merely a disappointed teacher. “I had hopes for you, for us. You could have accomplished much. I would have helped you get there. Unfortunately, all struggles must come to an end.”

He raises his hands, ready to call up a flood of shadow and drown you all in the inky blackness, but Alina moves faster, lunging towards the stag to clap her hands down upon it. Instantly, a shield of sunlit sorcery flickers into existence, appearing just in time to block the Darkling’s attack. 

He laughs slightly, almost impressed. “Fascinating. You think you can hold out forever? You have only had a few months to prepare, Alina. I have had centuries.”

With that, he redoubles his attack, forcing Alina’s circle of sunlight to shrink more and more. Alina glances up at you, silently beseeching you for help. 

You shake your head slightly, even now afraid to do what you know must be done. “Alina…” 

The Darkling quirks his eyebrow. “Afraid, Y/N? What more can you hide?” 

His shadows are almost at the tip of your boot. If there is a time, it is now. You know this, but it doesn’t make it easier.

You square your shoulders, letting your power run through you. Remember who you are. You turn to face him again. 

Your eyes flash emerald once before you speak once more. “You aren’t the only one with the benefit of the centuries, Aleksander.” 

You see the recognition dawning in his eyes even before you say the word.

“Σμήνος.” Swarm. 

The viridian magic spills from your palms like ink, sliding over the ground and coating the air with the sharp tang of spells. It presses his shadows back, forcing the Grisha to cower to the ground like children. That’s what they are to you, aren’t they? Mere children, whose even extended lives will be over in the blink of an eye to you. This is your birthright, not your curse but your blessing. Let the world fall to its knees. You are unlike your brethren, and you will live on forever.

The Darkling manages to stand his ground, even as his shadows race away from him. His trusted soldiers look terrified, but he looks haunted in a different way. He’s seeing a ghost, a remnant of his past who he buried long ago. 

His voice is quiet, yet rings out across the mass of magic to reach you. “Hecari.” 

You incline your head once, even this silent affirmation seeming to hit him like a blow. “I thought you dead. I mourned for you.” 

You laugh once, bitter and full of spite. “You wished to kill me. It was to protect myself.”

He flinches at this. “So you know.” 

You want to laugh longer this time, like a maniac. So many go mad, why not you as well, after everything? It almost makes sense. “Of course I know. You thought you could hide something like that from me? Darling, you deserve everything that comes to you.” 

His lips twitch into a smile. “You always had a flair for the dramatic.”

 He gathers his shadows once again, preparing for another attack. You feel no fear. Your spells are boundless, your power knows no end. 

“So do you.”

However, when he lets his shadows run wild, he directs them not towards you but towards a body crumpled on the ground. They hover above Mal, mere inches away from stabbing through him. You pay him no mind- what does one mortal boy matter to you when you can end this, once and for all? Unfortunately, your revenge is withheld from you. 

You hadn’t counted on Alina grabbing your arm, trying unsuccessfully to divert your focus. “We have to surrender, Y/N. He’ll kill Mal.”

You scoff, shaking your arm loose. “Mal will die regardless. We’ll all die if you let him have you.” 

The Darkling smirks from across the clearing. “Such support for me. I’m glad to see that you’ve missed me.” 

Alina ignores this, as do you. “I need him, Y/N. We have to give in.” 

You shake your head. “No. I will not surrender to him. Not after all this time. Do you have any idea what he would have you do, the lives that you would be forced to take? This is the only way.”

Alina shakes her head. “No, this is the only way.” 

You don’t have time to question what she’s doing before she races towards the stag again, this time to use the amplified power against you. You aren’t expecting an act of violence from a friend, and so the blinding flash in your eyes startles you for a moment. It’s only a moment, but it is enough- his shadows race across the clearing, towards you and Alina. 

They catch at your hands, and you’re filled with the odd sensation that you couldn’t speak a word of power if you tried. He’s trying to mute you, to tie your hands behind your back using only his abilities. You’d hate him for it if you weren’t so sure that you’d do the exact same thing to him.

The Darkling strides across the clearing, stopping only when he is directly in front of you. He reaches out a hand, touching your face softly as if to check that it’s still you, not just an oprichnik or a mapmaker but his lover of centuries long gone. 

“Hecari.” He names you again, not a question but a firm reminder. “We are together once more.”

tag list: someone who’s compliments are my amplifier @underc0vercryptid​, @hotleaf-juice​, @aleksanderwh0r3​, @kaqua​, @nemesis729​, @imma-too-many-fandoms​, @cleverzonkwombatsludge​, @yourabbymoore, @eliwinchester-barnes​, @heyyitsreign​, @ponyboys-sunsets​, @slytherinsssss​, @actuallyanita​, @lakeli​, @darlinggbrekker​

#the darkling #the darkling imagines #the darkling x reader #the darkling oneshot #general kirigan #general kirigan imagines #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan oneshot #general kirigan series #the darkling series #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova imagines #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova oneshot #aleksander morozova series #shadow and bone #sab #grishaverse #shadow and bone imagines #sab imagines #grishaverse imagines #shadow and bone oneshot #sab oneshot #grishaverse oneshot #shadow and bone series #sab series #grishaverse series

[iwhishtomeetinournextlife]

An anonymous lover (part 2)

Summary : Y/N sees Sirius Black running away after a particularly rough letter from his mother. She wants to cheer him up and decide to send him a letter, anymously, she knows how much he hates her house.

Warnings : Slytherin!Reader, female!reader, Sirius’ mom being a b*tch, not proof read

Words count : 1.7k

English is not my first language, sorry if there is any mistakes

Part 1 - You're here - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

------------------------------------

Sirius hated receiving letters, he felt absolutly like shit everytime he received one, he hated this, hated how much the words of his mother affected him. He should be used to them by now, shouldn’t he ? “You are the shame of the family”, “a useless son”, “a blood traitor”, and so on, and so on, he’ve read it all. But still, here he was, in his bed crying like he never cried before.

He was happy his friends did not try to force him out of bed to go to class. James did say he would check up on him after he ate, after the morning classes, he would probably bring something to eat, thought Sirius. He felt so grateful to have him and his other friends in his life, to feel appraciated for who he was, with his flaws, to feel taking care of, to feel loved, but...

Sirius couldn’t stop himself to think his mother’s words were, in some ways, true. She was saying them so much, over and over again, it had to be found on reality, right ? The pain in his chest, that weight in his stomach, the feeling of rope around his throat, suffocating him, he was unable to move any member of body. So after his friends left for the morning, he closed his eyes again, trying to get some sleep after his troubled night, maybe his mind would be more at peace after a long nap.

He groaned when he got woke up by a tapping sound. “Stooop”. When the sound did not stop he stood in his bed, pissed. “James I swear if you don’t stop I-”. But his friend wasn’t in the room, no one for that matter. He looked around, trying to locate the tapping, he finally saw an owl at one of the window and get out of bed to open it.

He froze when he saw why the owl tried to get in, a letter. Sirius felt all his blood running out of his body, and the air of his lungs escaping through his mouth. Wasn’t one letter enough mother !? With a trembling hand he took the enveloppe, and watch the animal fly away. He closed his eye, breathing in and out, before daring to look at what was in his hands.

And when he looked, he couldn’t help a confused expression, that was deffinitly not from his mother. The paper was decorated with drawing of stars who seemed to.. glow ? Wierd. He smiled when he recognize the constellation on the front, his star shining the most, with written “To: Sirius Black” in dark ink.

He got intringued, and delicatly open the enveloppe, trying not to tear it. His eyes wided when he unfolled the paper and saw flowers previously dry getting fresh as new and moving drawings, a dog, a stag, a rat... He smiled, the letter must be from his friends, trying to cheer him up. It was beautiful. He felt a warm feeling going trough his body, and staying in his heart.

The lines were written in a dark purpully color, he liked that. “Dear Sirius Black, it had come to my attention you were feeling down because of a letter you received recently”, he greeted his teeth, it’s true, he must have left quite the impression yesterday at lunch. “and because I consider you to be one of the greatest person of this school, I decided to remind it to you through this letter. You and I don’t know eachother that well ”. Wait, what does that mean ? It’s not from the marauders ? “but I hope I will be able to make you feel better with my words. On how much you impact people’s life here, on how much your are loved, even by people you ignore even exist, with your pranks, like for exemple -”.

Sirius savoured every words, curves, loops, they were explaining that time the marauders field the corridors with bubble, thanks to it they were able to get away from dentation with Finch, “a very unjustify detention !” had they specified, he smiled at that, always a pleasure to help someone to get away from the janitor of Hogwarts.

They were a whole paragraphs of all the nice things Lily Evans had told them about him, “She may not show it much, but she really loves you, she admire the way you stand up for what is right, and so do I”. Whoever was that person, they know Evans, that was a beginning to discover their identity, even if a part of him still thought it was from his friends.

But that little part quickly wanished when the stranger started discribing little things he had not realised about himself, the way his nose scrunch when something annoyed him, they big smile he got when he respond correctly to a teacher who thought he was not listening, he blushed a little. Sure, Sirius was perfectly aware of the affect he had of people, but he didn’t believed anyone was really paying attention to him.

“Your are an incredibly honest person, and we lack that kind of people. The ones true to themselves, not bending to others’ expectations, and by being that way you trully are the brightest star in the sky, and unfortunatly, some people will do anything to take those person down, jealous of not being them. But do not listen to those person, keep shinning, because they will stay wretched, but you, Sirius, you will have a good life, you will be great, the best of person to have around.”

Sirius couldn’t help the tears from falling again, but they were good ones this time. These last words were what he needed right now. His smiled desappeared though when he didn’t saw any name at the end of the message. He flipped the paper, over and over again, trying to find a name, a nickname or anything, observing the little animals who kept running around as he was reading, and he looked as they seemed to try to show indicate the enveloppe right next to him. Oh, is the name written there ?

But nothing on it either, so he looked inside, a piece of sturdy paper was nicely fold, they were a word on it. “Kiss ?”. He openned the paper and froze when he got surprise feelling something on his face, slapping his hand on his forhead. “WHAT THE F-”. He ran to the nearest mirror, dropping everything on the way and looked at his face.

He was searching everywhere for a mark, was this letter a prank ? His blood boiled at the idea, of being fooled by such nice words just to be hurt right after.. but nothing. He calmed right down when he found nothing. He took back the letter, the enveloppe and the “kiss”.

“Was that.. It's really a kiss ?”, he sat on his bed again, openned the paper and payed more attenttion to it this time, yes it was. He felt lips gently pressing down on his forhead, right at his hairline. He smiled, it felt incredibly nice. He closed it before openning it once more, closing his eyes too. The kiss doesn’t last long, but it didn’t make it any less pleasant.

He felt incredibly giddy about it, he realised he had never been kissed there before, well, not that he can remember anyway. Not by any of his friend, despise being really close to them and not shying away from physical affection, not even in past relationship, he had kissed his exes of course but that felt so.. Sweet and tender, he couldn’t wait to feel it again.

When he was about to do it again, James entered the room. “You’re awake !”, James got closer to his friend and groaned at what he had in hand. “Y’ mom again ?”, Sirius shook his head “Not her, for sure, open that”, he gave his friend the little card. He looked at it and open it, and flipped it aound like it was nothing. “S’pose to do something or ..?”, Sirius’ eyes widen, “What, you didn’t feel it ?” taking back the paper he looked at it before doing what he was doing before but nothing happenned this time. He only saw three darken dots. Shit, did it run out ?

Sirius felt a huge wave of dissapointment going through him, if he had know better he would have try to not waste them so fast. “Y’good Pads ?”. Sirius nobbed. “Yeah yeah, ‘just it had kisses in it”, friend looked at him like he had lost a part of his mind and smirked. “Did you loose your head ?”.

Sirius hit him with a pillow, owning a laugh “Fuck off Prongs !” he looked down at the letter James had in his hand, the boy was waiting for his friend’s permission to read it, when he had it he observed the little animals running around. “Is that us ? Brilliant !”, “It is, yeah”, Sirius installed himself, leanning against the headboard of his bed while James was reading.

After a few minutes James whistled a bit, “Pads ! Quite a lover you’ve got here, heh ? Who sended it ?”. “That’s the problem, Prongs, I don’t know ! I just received it !”

“Wha’ ? There no way you have no idea ! Got to be someone who tried something before, no ?”, Sirius put his head back, hitting the headboard, his face anwsering for him. “Don’t worry Pads, will find her !”, Sirius raised an eyebrow, “How d’you know it’s a girl ?”, James laughed a little “Too clean of a handwritting to be a boy”. Sirius rolled his eye, to him not being much of a proof, hesitating to bet like he would usually do just to try to proove him wrong.

“You’re feeling ok to go back to class ? We could ask Evans, they seemed to know eachother”, Sirius sneered at him, “Sure, all the excuses to talk to dear Evans” making kissy sounds with his mouth, owning a hit from James, “Fuck off, I’m only trying to help you here !” Sirius smiled, “I know, thanks Prongs”

Sirius quickly got ready, carfully putting the letter on his nightstand with the enveloppe, smiling like an idiot, thinking of all the things said in the letter. He decided to take the kiss with him, it might not do anything anymore, but holding it helped him feeling the sweet kiss on him again. He didn’t know who was that person but he will for sure getting more of these from the source when he found out.

#sirius black x reader #marauders x reader #an anonymous love #sirius black #sirius x reader

[sunmoonandeddie]

oh, captain, my captain

pairing: professor!steve rogers x reader

word count: 2,090

summary: Steve Rogers got bored in his retirement, so he picked up the hobby of teaching art. But he still feels restless until his missing piece comes along.

warnings: swearing, little bit of smutty smut, dub-con, drinking, manipulation, steve is a little dark but reader is into it in the end

a/n: This is... a little darker than what most people expect from me. But I wrote this for a dear friend, so I really, really hope you all enjoy it!! Also, please read the warnings. I'm not responsible for your media consumption <3

Life after the Avengers was mundane.

Not that Steve didn’t like the quiet days, where he knew he wasn’t going to be running off and risking his life at any moment, mind you. In fact, he was finding that retirement rather suited him.

Except for the fact that he was bored.

Bucky and Sam were always busy on some kind of mission together, saving the world and splitting their time between Brooklyn, Washington D.C., and New Orleans. Or NOLA, as Buck liked to call it now.

Perhaps the boredom was why he took up art again. He did go to art school, after all, and had even graduated. It was after his first official professional art show that the university contacted him.

They wanted him to teach young minds how to make art.

It was the perfect solution to his boredom problem.

Of course, he should’ve realized that getting a new job wouldn’t make him feel complete. No, unfortunately, he hasn’t found the missing piece in his hundred years.

At least until you walked into his classroom on the first day.

Steve’s eyes focused on you immediately, enamored by the curve of your legs and the Cupid’s bow of your upper lip. “Hello, you,” he mumbled softly under his breath as he watched you sit down to what appeared to be a friend of yours. He scrolled through his attendance on the school supplied computer in front of him, raising his brows as he found the name next to your university ID picture.

A perfect name for a perfect girl.

Suddenly he felt the need to have a few figure drawing classes. Privately. With you. With your clothes off.

And maybe his clothes would be off, too.

He stood up as the clock finally hit one in the afternoon, holding his laptop. “Alright, please let me know if you’re here as I call your names,” he said, before going through the roster quickly.

When he called your name, and you responded with a soft, “Here!” he almost fucking came in his pants.

“Alright. In this class, as with many art classes, we’re going to get very… personal,” he said as he started to walk through the easels and those sitting in front of them. “So on the first day, rather than reading through the syllabus that’s readily available on your phone, I like to do some ice breakers.” He couldn’t help but grin at the collective groan that rang through the class. “I know, I know. But like I said, this class is going to get very personal. So come on, let’s all get in a little closer.”

“Do you mind?” You asked quietly as you scooted her stool in between two others that he couldn’t remember the names of. You gave them a blinding smile as they made room, perching in your seat like a little angel.

His little angel.

Everything seemed to be a blur as he led them in a series of questions, but he barely retained any information from anyone except you. At least he had his phone secretly recording in his pocket so he could go back and relisten later (even if it was mostly just to hear your voice.)

Favorite color?

“Green.”

Favorite holiday?

“New Year’s Eve.”

Favorite artist?

“Marilyn Minter.”

That was interesting to him. That showed that you had a naughty side.

A side he so desperately wanted to get to know.

The only issue was that he needed to find a way to get you alone, and that was going to take trust built up over time.

He was truthfully, absolutely amazed that it only took a few weeks before you were coming to him with wonder-filled eyes, asking him if you could please schedule some time during his office hours to go over some of your portfolio.

Abso-fucking-lutely.

“Hey, you made it,” he said when you walked in after a light knock on the door, your portfolio in hand. Steve stood and immediately pulled out the chair for you like a proper gentleman. Subtly, he took in a deep breath as the cloud of your perfume enveloped him like a warm hug.

It was something classy. Something you had clearly splurged on.

Perhaps Gucci or Valentino or something.

“I’m sorry for being late,” you said as Steve glanced at the clock.

You were maybe three minutes late at the most.

“The subway was delayed, and unfortunately, I can’t control when the subway stops and goes,” you continued, letting out a nervous laugh as you opened up your portfolio. “Did you get my email with my previous pieces?”

“Yes, I did!” He said as he sat back down at his desk. “And honestly, I haven’t been this impressed in a long, long time. I would love to possibly mentor you? Of course, that means a lot more hours spent with an old man like me.” Eyes crinkling, he couldn’t help but laugh when you laughed.

He was sure that he almost had you right where he wanted you. The corner you were backing yourself into was almost too perfect.

You seemed… amazed. Absolutely flabbergasted by his offer. “Really?” You breathed out, leaning closer, elbows resting on your knees. “You’d really do that? That would be… I… Thank you.” Shaking your head, you scooted your chair a little closer. “How much should I pay you? I’ve never had a personal mentor before.”

And there it was. The corner he wanted you in.

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t worry about money,” he insisted as he looked deep into your eyes. It would be so easy to just get lost in them… “But, I do need assistance with something.”

“Of course!” You were like a doe-eyed little fawn, chasing him—the magnificent stag—through a field of wildflowers. “Whatever you want!”

Steve put on the most bashful, boy next door look he could muster. “Well… I’ve been trying to get back into figure drawing, but you’d be surprised at how hard it is finding a class to take that won’t freak out that I’m… you know. Steve Rogers.”

The look on you face let him know immediately there was no way you were going to say no. Hell, you were looking at him like he was the last puppy on the side of the road in a box that had ‘FREE’ written on the side.

In the rain.

“When do we start?”

Steve got everything set up in his home studio that night, only to sit until Friday night, when he’d planned for you to come over. Admittedly, he may have gone a little overboard with the mood lighting and the bottle of red wine that he’d left open on the counter to breathe, two crystal wine glasses resting next to it.

The good crystal.

He practically ran to the door when he heard the doorbell. “Hey, I was a little worried you would have trouble finding it,” he said as he guided you inside, a large hand coming to rest on the small of your back.

“Oh, I just Ubered,” you said, ducking your head as you let him lead you into his large home. “I don’t have a car. It’s too expensive and there’s no point when I live in the city. Though, the drive out here was absolutely gorgeous. I can see why you got a place a little bit upstate.”

Steve grinned, fighting the urge to say that it could also be your place. But that was for the future. “Yeah, the views and the quiet is worth the forty-five minutes or so I commute everyday.” He opened up the door to his home studio, all the windows wide open.

You wandered around the room, looking at the various art supplies and canvases scattered haphazardly around the room. In the very center was a chaise lounge with a blanket draped across it. “This is amazing… God, if I had my own art studio at home, I don’t think I’d ever leave.”

He poured out two glasses of wine, gently pressing one into your hands. “Well, you can always use this one. I have more space than I could probably ever use.” He sipped at his own wine, watching the way the glass pressed to your lips, watching the way you swallowed down the sweet liquid.

He couldn’t get drunk, but you certainly could.

It was around your third glass that he finally got to the point of why you were there. “So, I really want to paint you lying on this chaise,” he said as he guided you back. “But… Would it be possible for you to pose in the nude? You have just… the most natural beauty. I want to be able to only focus on that.”

“Oh my god, yeah!” You said as you set your glass of wine on the little table. With your inhibitions lowered, there was no hesitation as you stripped out of your clothing, tossing it all to the side. “You just move me how you want me.”

Oh, he would.

His own wine glass was set to the side before he moved closer, his eyes locked on yours. “Yeah?” He guided you to lie down on the bed, letting his fingers drift over your soft skin. “God, you’re so fucking gorgeous… Could just look at you forever…” His thumb brushed over one of your hard nipples, teasing the little peak as his cock ached inside his sweats. “I could never paint anything else except for you… and I’d die the happiest man in the world.” Carefully, gently, he moved your legs so one of your knees was bent, your legs spread wide for him.

Your eyes fluttered shut, your skin feeling flushed from the wine and the excitement of this god-like man touching you. “Mmm… Professor…”

Steve’s eyes were locked in on the prize, that blooming flower between your thighs, glistening with sweet nectar. “I always love a hands on approach,” he cooed as he ran a single finger through your folds, gathering up your slick.

The taste was exquisite.

Pretty moans fell from your lips, your back arching as your legs instinctively spread wider for him. “Please…”

He knew you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. It was fate, you walking into his class.

“Do you want me to touch you, baby girl?” He asked, loving the purr that rumbled in your chest as he found your swollen clit. “So needy… When’s the last time your pretty little kitty got so much attention, angel? You’ve been neglecting her, haven’t you?”

At your nod, you tried sitting up a bit, lip caught between your teeth. “Y-Yes. Please… Please.”

Steve quickly realized you didn’t even know what you were asking for.

“So innocent. So sweet,” he said as he wrapped his hands around your waist to pull you to the edge of the chaise. He leaned in and took in a deep breath, groaning. “I wanna be able to smell you for days.” At the first lick of his tongue, he knew he had you wrapped around his fingers.

And when you finally orgasmed, soaking his beard with your juices? Fuck. He was even more of a goner than he was before.

Steve loved the way that you laid limbless on the chaise, foot lazily bouncing as you dozed. It was easily a sight that he could get very, very used to very quickly. This was going to be so much easier than he thought it was going to be.

While he knew he was the right one for you, being able to know that you weren’t going to fight him gave him an amazing sense of relief.

The next week, he stood at his desk, making notes on his laptop. At five minutes to one, the door opened as the first student to arrive entered.

Immediately looking up, his heart sank. It wasn’t you.

Did you panic after you left his place the next morning? Nothing more had happened that night. Surely getting an orgasm wouldn’t freak you out, right?

His hands were starting to tremble when the door opened again, and he felt someone standing right next to him.

“Professor Rogers?”

His head snapped up, relief flooding him when he saw you. “H-Hello. How can I help you?”

A mischievous smile spread across your face, even though you were clearly trying to contain it. “Is there any possible way you have some free time during your office hours for me to swing by? I’d love to schedule our next figure painting session.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve x you

[serpenteve]

So I ship Darklina, but I actually...don't hate Mal? Sure, he was a dick sometimes (so is the Darkling, in different ways), but he was also like 17 or 18 right? And, to me, he'd changed by Ruin and Rising. He went through a lot of character growth. He's not my favorite character by any means. He's probably one of my least favorite, simply because of how boring he is, and I think him and Alina would have been better off as friends or siblings for a platonic familial type thing. But he's also a teenager. That doesn't give him an excuse for being a dick but I feel like from what I've seen from Darklina stans (and what I myself have done in the past) is we hold him to such a high standard but we excuse everything the Darkling does. Yes, he's the villain, but he's also a love interest, which means he does need to be somewhat held accountable. I love the Darkling, he's my boy, and he makes Mal look like a piece of cardboard in comparison, but if we're able to love a centuries old villain and forgive his mistakes, shouldn't Mal at least get some grace? Heroes are allowed to mess up, especially teenage ones. Hell, when I was 17 I was a wreck. It just feels weird to write off everything a centuries old man does but tear apart everything a teenager does, you know?

But I also understand the Mal hate and I don't expect people to love him (I don't even love him lmao). I just wanted to see if some Darklinas are more open towards Mal because I understand most Darklinas hate his guts (understandably so).

Sorry for the long ask. What are your thoughts on Mal?

I don't think all Darklinas hate Mal but a lot of people who hated a number of things in the books happen to be Darklinas. If you hate the book romance, then you're more likely to criticize other aspects of the storytelling like the plot and writing choices.

I definitely think people's perception of Mal hinges on whether they feel like he redeemed himself in Ruin & Rising and/or whether or not they were exposed to the fandom discourse and reactions surrounding the characters. For example, if you read the Grisha trilogy after seeing people endlessly simp for the Darkling and talk about Mal like he's the Worst Character Ever™️, then probably you will think book!Mal really isn't that bad and people excuse the Darkling's actions despite him like.........destroying an entire town for funsies and terrorizing Alina across the country 😂

The whole Mal vs Darkling debate originally arose out of audience expectations. Mal was presented as a heroic love interest while the Darkling was basically a false romantic lead turned villain who Alina kinda still had the hots for but had to heroically resist lest she become seduced to the dark side. The Darkling wants to control and exploit Alina and will stop at nothing to do so. Therefore, we expect Mal to embody the opposite of this: support Alina in doing what she wants and not treat her like a trophy he's entitled to. Instead, Bardugo---perhaps unintentionally---set the opposite in motion.

I actually really don't mind Mal in Shadow & Bone. Yeah, he was kind of an ass to Alina at parts, but he apologized and helped her get the stag and most of his faults can be overlooked as dumb teenage boy things. The problem arose in Siege & Storm when Mal grew entitled, possessive and emasculated because Alina had this power he did not and Alina had this great destiny that didn't revolve around him. Regardless of what Bardugo intended with this lover's quarrel, many readers interpreted this as Mal wanting Alina to be weak and dependent on him. And now, when readers look back at his more annoying traits in Shadow & Bone that initially didn't bother us that much, it holds more sinister implications. It wasn't that Mal and Alina were drifting apart, it was that Mal doesn't care about Alina until someone else cares about her and then he realizes "oh shit! my biggest fangirl that i took for granted has been taken away and has a life of her own??? unacceptable!!11". This combined with the Grisha being coded as any marginalized group and Mal's bigotry towards Alina and then her ending where she lost her powers so the author could pair her with Mal also left some.................IMPLICATIONS 👀

And listen, it would be one thing if I was the *only* reader who was whining about how Mal's character drives me up the wall......but like literally 3/4 of the fandom hated his ass because Bardugo accidentally made him toxic in a very *familiar* way that the Darkling's toxicity is not---at least for that part of the fandom. And this clash between reader expectations and what was actually on the page is what gave rise to a lot of Mal hate. You mentioned that readers hold Mal to a higher standard than the Darkling and that's true. But it's also because Mal is supposed to be a hero, not a villain. The expectations we had for the Darkling were literally on the floor after he decided to randomly massacre Novokribrisk. Whereas Mal being toxic in exactly the same way a chauvinistic garbage IRL man would be toxic was way too much for some readers and we just ended up shipping Alina with the Darkling out of pure spite. Especially when said villain is saying things like "I've seen what you truly are and I've never turned away? Can he stay the same?" or "He’s otkazat’sya. He can never hope to understand your power, and if he did, he’d only come to fear you."

ALSO, I'm a big believer that the reason the Darklina shippers grew in number is directly because the Darkling and Alina are never in a romantic relationship. The failed and wasted potential was indeed a huge draw, but the fact that we never got to see what their canon relationship would be like allowed us to fantasize about an ideal situation in which the Darkling comes to the error of his ways and learns to treat Alina as an equal. The quotes I mentioned above are up for interpretation. He says he will never turn away and that he would be able to understand Alina's power...........but he also proved that he isn't above using her as a weapon without regard for what she wants. Because we never get to see the Darkling and Alina in a real romantic relationship, we can now choose to interpret that line seriously in fanworks, regardless of whatever the hell Bardugo intended with it.

#viv answers #i could probably write an entire essay on this but i feel like ive rambled long enough lmao #anti mal

[newtonsheffield]

oh my GOD I love your headcanon with Edwina and drunk Anthony!! Could we maybe get more headcanons with drunk Kate and Anthony (maybe after their stag and hen nights) and them being sloppy and cute?

Oh Heyyyyyyyy

Drunk Anthony is a handsy lil’ Cutie is he not? He just wants everyone to know how much he loves Kate. Drunk Kate is a mess all singing, all dancing, as she tries to tuck random things in her purse. Edwina, Lucy and the Bridgerton gals had their work quite cut out for them as the attempted to herd drunk Kate through London which was about as successful as herding a cat. Benedict, Colin, Gregory, and Simon were no more successful with Anthony who just kept begging to get to go home to Kate. Fortunately for us, both of these nights Coincided. Someone else was also interested in this concept! 

Anon asked: Hey given the craziness of Sophie’s hen party I can only imagine how Kate’s and Anthony’s went. Can we get a Drabble for both of them? PS I know your ask box is crazy full so sorry for this lol My inbox is crazy, butttt I have had a sandwich and I am ready to do this! 

Let’s give this a Lil’ peep shall we!

“I Think I’m in love with Anthony!” Kate yelled loudly in her sister’s ear over the music in the bar. Edwina laughed loudly.  “I should hope so, you’re marrying him in a week.” She said, and Kate shook her head, her glazed eyes, wide as though she had to tell her sister very important. It was all Edwina could do not to keep from laughing. 

“Nooooo.” Kate moaned, “You don’t understand!” She said turning to Lucy, who was swaying just slightly, as Kate wrapped her arms around her.  “La la la Lucy!” She sung, very loudly, and endearingly, Edwina bit her lip to keep from laughing “That’s what Gregory calls you!” and then she gasped loudly! “Oh my GOSH LUCY! You should marry Gregory! You should marry Gregory and then we’ll be like sisters! I’m a good sister, you can ask Eddie!” Kate said, her words slurring together. Lucy who was only a little less drunk than Kate, seemingly with no idea how she came to be in this position. 

Edwina knew it was that Daphne, who was heavily pregnant had decided to have her fun by topping up everyone’s drinks in secret. The results were, Edwina had to admit, impressive. Francesca and Eloise seemed to be taking it in turns photograph themselves with a a potted tree in the corner, Lucy had impressed everyone with an display of gymnastics across the back of the booths, Edwina had heard the bartender, Chris mutter Jesus Fucking christ How did she not break her neck in those heels?! 

“She is a good sister Lucy!” She said loudly, her own head feeling more than a little fuzzy “You should marry Gregory!” Lucy blushed, spilling her drink a little as she shook her head “I wanna marry Gregory! He’s sooo pretty! And his glasses are so cute! But he hasn’t asked me! Like, what if he doesn’t wanna marry me?!” Lucy yelled, her words tumbling out, falling over each other. Kate tutted.

“No! NO! You’re so great! Of course he wants to marry you! I’ll call him, and I’ll tell him to marry you. And then I’m gonna ask Anthony if he wants to marry me!” Kate said her drink spilling onto their shoes, pulling her phone out, tapping away at the screen. Edwina laughed “Katie! You’re getting married to Anthony next week.”  “I miss Anthony! Eddie, I love him Sooo much every time I’m around him I just want to rip his clothes off and-” 

“Ooop.” Daphne cut in, “I think we’ve had enough of that, Kate. Though I appreciate the enthusiasm.” Kate’s eyes widened comically, Lucy had drifted back towards the dancefloor.  “Daphne! Oh my god! DAPHNE!” Kate said, wrapping her arms messily around her soon to be sister in law. “I love your brother AND I think I’m gonna MARRY him! And because of that, you should ask the bartender to play ABBA! GIMME! GIMME! GIMME!” Daphne laughed loudly, eyeing Edwina carefully before whispering  “At least she hasn’t stolen anything this time.” as she disappeared to the bar. And Edwina had to admit, Daphne had a point. Kate tugged firmly on her arm! 

“Eddie! I love this SONG!” She yelled as the opening bars started. “Ugh! I want Anthony! I wish he was here! Eddie, he’s sooo Handsome sometimes in the middle of the night I have to wake him up because I want to-” 

“KATE!” It was like she had summoned him, and honestly thank god, because there were few things Edwina wanted less than to hear about her sister’s nighttime exploits with her future husband. Anthony had burst through the door wearing what appeared to be a shirt bearing the words If Lost please return to Kate Sheffield, and promptly had his arms around Kate, whispering (loudly) in her ear.  “KATE I LOVE YOU SO SO MUCH!”  Gregory had found Lucy, and the two of them appeared to be attempting to recreate the dance from Dirty Dancing (Badly) Colin had joined Eloise and was Currently hoisting Francesca onto his shoulders for a photograph. Benedict appeared to be arguing with Daphne  “Edwina! Edwina Have you met my Fiancée Kate?! Isn’t she just the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen?!” Anthony was saying desperately, his arms still wrapped around Kate, who had her face buried in his neck. Edwina’s heart clenched. Despite the ridiculousness she had to admit it was very sweet that her sister’s soon to be husband was so enamoured with her.  “Yes, Anthony, I’m familiar with Kate. And yes, she’s pretty great!” Edwina said, the corners of her mouth ticking upwards. 

“Hey, I LOVE YOU!” Kate yelled at her fiancé grinning, and Anthony’s head spun towards her his eyes wide, “I LOVE YOU TOO!” He yelled back, and then his lips were on Kate’s, his hands wandering a little obscenely.  “Okay. Well.” Edwina said to no one in particular, averting her eyes and joining Benedict and Daphne at the bar. 

“Honestly, Ben. What are you doing here?! Could you not handle Anthony for one night?” Daphne tutted, Benedict sighed  “Honestly, I couldn’t take his Where’s Kate,  love Kate, Kate’s so amazing It’s a little exhausting. Besides, look at them,” Benedict said, Gesturing at Gregory who had just caught Lucy in a rather spectacular lift “I’m clearly not in control of the situation.” 

The bartender tapped Edwina on the shoulder. “Eddie, I know we know each other, but I have to draw the line at public indecency.” He said gesturing to something over her shoulder. Edwina turned her head and immediately wished she was Anywhere else “No! Kate! Put Anthony’s shirt back on!” Edwina yelled a little startled. Thinking to herself that this was truly the last time she was ever going out with the Bridgertons 

It wasn’t.        

#bridgerton and sons au #kathony #anthony x kate #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #edwina sheffield #daphne bridgerton #lucy abernathy #drunk kate is a mess #drunk anthony is a dork #bachelor/ette parties #molly's asks and answers

[mizelophsun11]

Mizeloph's Tale Chapter 9

Pairing - This story is still at the point of General Kirigan x OC Sun Summoner, but we are slowly getting closer to Kaz Brekker x OC Sun Summoner

Summary - Anna is making sure that she is not a force to be pushed over. She and Zoya go head to head with an outcome that no one was really expecting. When Anna needs it most there is comfort, but the challenge is thinking which one impacted her the most?

Word Count - 2314

-

Anna had wanted to do a little bit of exploring, she hadn’t seen much of the Little Palace since she had arrived. However, she always seemed to have a couple of guards following her wherever she went and stopping her from leaving. As Anna went to try again and go outside they blocked her from going out, as she finally decided to say something two Grisha girls came up behind her and wrapped their arms around one of hers.

“Anna! There you are” Nadia said

“We’ve been looking for you, but you always seem to be one step ahead of us” Marie smiled while holding onto Anna’s arm “I am Marie and this is Nadia” she introduced

Anna nodded looking between the two girls “do you know why they won’t let me outside? I just want to explore a little” she felt like a well kept captive, she hadn’t been outside on the Little Palace grounds since she had arrived

“You’re supposed to be training right now, Are you really a mapmaker?” Marie asked

“Were you really attacked by Fjerdans?” Nadia followed asking after her friend

“How many Fjerdans did you kill” Marie wanted to know any details

“You have it all wrong, I didn’t kill anyone. I didn’t even get much of a chance when I was dragged out of the carriage and almost killed..” Anna hated that she couldn’t even hold herself in a fight against the Drüskelle, Anna didn’t really think throwing a punch against the axe wielding Drüskelle would have given her much of a fighting chance “I have fought before in the past, but it was nothing like what happened..”

“If that is so, then I am glad we intervened” Marie smiled

“Welcome to the first part of your new daily schedule” Nadia looked at all of the Grisha who were working

Both Nadia and Marie sighed “Combat training” they said at the same time then let go of Anna’s arms

Anna watched as Grisha around her worked on combat training, some of it looked familiar from what she had done a few years ago. She might not have continued professionally because her drawing skills outshined how she fought, but she still tried to practice. In the moment when the Drüskelle had attacked she had the skills to defend herself, but with a combination of shock from her life changing and just a moment of panic she didn’t.

Botkin walked up to them “Sun Summoner, all of Raven's foes want to kill you before you can destroy the Fold, it’s a great honor to have so many enemies” he brought his attention over to a Grisha who was next to him

“Well, what a warm welcome, is this normal?” Anna said under her breath

Nadia nodded “unfortunately yes”

Botkin looked back over to Anna once he was done talking with the other Grisha “do you know how to fight?”

“I’ve had a few years of training but nothing much” her training had started in Ketterdam when she was on her own. A child fighting every day in order to make it through, but it was not anything formal. It did allow her to learn a natural way of being more light on her feet and quick to react to anything thrown at her in a fist fight. When she crossed the Fold and got older, Mal was able to introduce her to more formal training. Anna carried both experiences with her in any fight, but when her drawing skills were picked up by officials she became a map maker. She never complained about the change, but she definitely had to make more time so then she did not lose when life had taught her

“Alright, if you have some experience then show me, pick an opponent” he said stepping back

Anna looked at a few Grisha and nodded her head to Zoya “her”

“Zoya Nazyalensky, I’ve been training her since she was 10” Botkin stepped back allowing the two girls to face each other

“Care to back down?” Zoya smirked a little

“No, you might be surprised by what I can do” Anna knew that Zoya had more training, but Anna had the life experience to pack up her training

Anna set herself up, with her thumbs protected by her first, Zoya stood and watched her. When both girls decided to not charge in at once Anna decided to bait Zoya in “come on, I was expecting something more, after all I should be an easy target but you are just standing there like a clueless girl” Zoya was already angry at Anna for being the center of attention surrounding General Kirigan so in blind rage she went up to Anna and threw a punch at her face. Anna dodged then punched Zoya and while she was taken aback by the punch Anna spun around angling her foot so she would kick Zoya in her calf, which caused Zoya to fall. Zoya held her leg when she landed on the ground, she had completely underestimated Anna and now she was paying the price.

A Healer went to Zoya but she brushed them off “I’m fine” she gets up and is ready for another fight

Anna got ready again “are you sure Zoya?”

“Just come at me already!” Zoya was not having it and wanted to prove she was still one of the better fighters

Anna got close and swung with her left hand first knowing that Zoya would doge then quickly punched her square in the nose with her right hand. She then used her foot to trip Zoya as she stumbled back, Zoya landed on her back. Zoya had not been expecting to be completely humiliated by Anna on the first day. Anna was also not expecting to do as well as she did, she thought at most she might land one punch. Anna walked over to Zoya and held her hand out for Zoya to take, Zoya surprisingly took Anna's hand and she pulled her up.

“I might be Ketterdam trash, but you will always be second place” Anna pulled away from Zoya

Zoya was beyond angry, it was true that Anna had kicked her ass, she could tell now that Anna would not be standing for any bullshit. She could feel this anger that was building in her chest, first it was the attention of General Kirigan, and now Anna was showing she was the better fighter from today. In the moment she did not care about what Botkin was saying as she summoned a gust of wind and threw it at Anna.

Anna gasped when she landed in the hay, she heard Maria yell her name “Anna!” her two new friends helped her up

“Please tell me you are ok” Nadia said

“Are you ok?” Maria asked, they both helped brush hay out of Anna’s hair

“Yeah I’m fine, but that was a cheap shot on her end” Anna knew that she had slightly antagonized Zoya, but she could not stand what she had said to her after the demonstration and this was her getting even

“She’s just jealous, can’t bear the idea of anyone else being favored by General Kirigan” Maria said taking another piece of hay out of Anna's hair

“I don’t know why she waste her time pining over him when she could have me” Nadia said, Anna smiled at her

“Oh I am sure she is kicking herself now” Anna watched as Botkin scolded Zoya in front of everyone

“What were you thinking Zoya?! Against the Sun Summoner? Have you lost your mind? You lost the fight fair and square, that was completely uncalled for. She’s not the enemy any more than I am! Go!” he shoved Zoya off, she looked over at Anna for a second then began to walk away to get checked on by a Healer

“Are you hurt? Should we take you in to get checked?” Maria asked

“I think I’m fine, she never really landed anything on me when we were fighting, maybe if I go lay down in my room I will feel a bit better” Anna walked off to her room

She walked through the halls, taking a bit longer to get back to her room, it was nice to see a bit more of the palace. Anna wished that she could see more beyond the walls, but right now she knew that laying down would be the best option. Once she got to her room and walked over to her bed she saw a book on her pillow, specifically a sketchbook. She walked over to it and picked it up, Anna ran her fingers over the embroidered golden sun. Anna opened the cover and a letter fell out, she picked it up and read it.

Anna,

Genya told me that you had asked her about a sketchbook, so I thought I would give you this one as a memento for beginning your new life. I am sorry I could not give this to you in person like I had planned, but you were being called to training and I did not want to disturb you.

I hope you enjoy this sketchbook.

Sincerely,

General Kirigan

Anna smiled at the note and set it down on her bedside table, she didn’t realize how much she needed this. She flipped through the book looking at all of the blank pages that she could now fill with drawings of the Little Palace and more. Something she had been thinking about was the Stag that had been in her dreams lately. Anna thought that would be a nice first drawing for her new sketchbook, the stag was a creature that always gave her more questions than answers. However, no matter where she went that dream seemed to appear when she was feeling lost. It was as if the stag was guiding her to where she needed to be. As she finished the sketch of the stag she realized that there was someone she was thinking about, it was Kazie. The one who had always been at her side when she was young, sketching him was something she had thought about. As she began to sketch him how she remembered, it was as if a memory had been unlocked.

-

Anna was sitting with a piece of paper she had stolen and a chunk of coal that she had been using as a tool to draw. Her inspiration was the little boy that was sitting across from her, he hadn’t known she was drawing him until he moved slightly.

“Hey!” A young Anna said “you messed up the drawing..” she had gotten a good sketch down, but was about to start the details.

“How did I mess up the drawing? You didn’t even tell me you were doing it, maybe tell me next time” Kaz said

Anna pouted a little “cause I wanted it to be a surprise…”

Kaz sighed “I’m sorry Anna” he walked over to her and pulled her into a hug

Anna hugged back “it’s ok, I can always try to draw you again” she showed Kaz what she had so far and he was impressed

“Wow this is great” Kaz smiled and continued to look at the drawing

They continued to look at the drawing Anna had made, it was a bit rough because it was just a sketch and not the completed drawing. As Anna examined her work it make her think of something that she never really thought of.

“Kazie?” Anna looked up at the boy

“Yes Anna?” Kaz looked down at her “what is it?”

“I was just wondering.. If we break our promise to stay together and we meet as adults, how will we know.. You know..”

Kaz thought about what she was asking, he never wanted to be away from her, but in the worst case scenario.. “Your hair of course, you know it’s my favorite”

Anna smiled and touched a strand of her hair then looked at Kaz facial features “well, for me it would be your eyes, if I could recognize anything it would be your eyes”

Kaz nodded “but you know we will never break our promise right? We will always be by each other's side”

“I know, but I guess in the worst case scenario, but we will definitely always be together” Anna said

Anna got up and grabbed one of the blankets they had stashed, she laid down and laid the blanket over them. Kaz pulled her close wrapping his arms around her, he always enjoyed being this close and could never imagine not liking this. It was their thing to do and neither of them ever wanted to stop, there were times when they fell asleep like this. For both of them, it was when they were at their most vulnerable and asleep they relied on each other to protect one another from any danger.

-

Anna loved that memory with Kaz, it fueled her to draw the young boy she remembered from Ketterdam. When she had been brought to the orphanage it was difficult for her to make friends not only because she had hair like snow, but also because none of the children were Kaz. Mal and Alina were there for her and so it eventually became easier, however in the beginning she was struggling. Once she slowed down on her sketch of the young Kaz she remembered Anna looked at the eyes she had drawn. Those eyes would be the key to identifying Kaz if she ever saw him again. She closed her sketchbook and looked out the window seeing the sun was beginning to set. Anna got herself ready to go to bed, she changed into the new nightgown she had been given and laid down. She closed her eyes and for one night she was able to have a dreamless rest.

-

Author Note - Thank you for everyones comments about the flashback in the previous chapter! I added another one because I thought this would be a good spot for it to set up for later events. I appreciate everyone who is leaving comments and I love replying to everyone! To everyone who is reading my story I would love to read your comments! Also, if anyone would like to be added to the tag list please let me know and I will happily add you! If there are problems with the tag I will pm you to make sure that you are informed.

Tag List - @rika90 @itsemy01 @hotleaf-juice @teatimeforusreaders @benbarnes-supremacy @graciefullygracie @aleksanderwh0r3 @klaudosh @herbatkazmilosica

#the grisha series #grisha fic #grishaverse #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfiction #ben barnes #general kirigan #general kirigan x reader #freddy carter #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader

[buglife]

Ghost and Tiso? Maybe about how they became friends?

Depictions of injuries and some sad stuff ahead, but this the longest request to date! Apologies my eyes are bad lol.

Tiso didn’t know what to think when he first laid eyes on the little knight, sitting alone on the sole bench in Dirtmouth. They were one of the strangest beings he had ever saw, with their big white helmet-like head, their weird little nubby body, and the fact they had a nail. How could something this tiny hold a nail? It had to be someone’s lost grub, he was sure of it. There was no way this little squib wasn’t about to be ambushed by some angry parent, furious that they were carrying an actual nail. He waited a moment and looked around, but nobody came.

He supposed someone would come sooner or later, he had a mission after all. He had wandered the wastes since he came of age with just himself and his shield searching for some sort of purpose in life. Sure, he had over time, became a rather competent warrior, but he failed to find challenges that would actually test his mettle. Then, he heard tales of a lost Kingdom where many bugs have gone and never returned. Said Kingdom was rumored to have an arena where one could compete for glory. Tiso had already bested many arenas and moved on, ever searching. If there wasn’t an arena than he could at least look around and recount what he saw.

Maybe here, he’ll find himself, and find a measure of happiness.

His shield felt heavy as he sighed and looked at the well. The Elderbug, kind as could be, had warned him of the dangers below. Bugs sometimes lost their minds, trapped in a dreaming world where they couldn’t remember anything but a bright, burning light. Bugs died from the claws of the infected, most no more than empty husks driven by a malevolent will. The thought horrified Tiso, he had never heard of such a thing. The dead walking? Still, the old bug was serious as he let his old gaze drift around the nearly empty town.

Tiso was inclined to believe him.

So there he was, ready to take the plunge down below and took one last look at the grub sitting on the bench. He happened to catch their eyes, and the little grub straitened up a little. He was surprised to see them leap off and stride toward him quickly, waving their arms.

“What do you want, Squib.” Tiso had no mood to deal with any little kids.

He watched them move their hands out from under their cloak, their tiny paws and equally tiny claws making a flurry of movements. They then stared at him expectantly.

“Uhhh...the fuck was that?” He had no clue what the little grub was doing with their hands. They deflated a little and then brightened, reaching into themselves with a hand and suddenly, they had a little book and a pen.

“...what...did you, did you just reach inside yourself!?” Tiso boggled, the hell was this? What the hell was this kid?

He watched in stunned silence as the little being ignored him to start scribbling quickly, turning over the book once done to display their writing.

“Hello, please be careful down there. It’s dangerous.”

“Ppfft. Nothing dangerous for the likes of me.” Tiso couldn’t help but grin. Aw, how precious, they were worried about him. “I’m a seasoned warrior, I faced a lot and I am sure I can handle myself.”

The being frowned, at least, Tiso thought they did. They tilted their mask in a way to convey some measure of unhappiness and then started writing again. They turned over the book with a flourish once done, the ink smeared a bit in their haste to write it.

“I am also a warrior and there are things down there that can kill you without hesitation. I’ve seen corpses of better armed and armored warriors scattered below. All thought the same that you did. Please be careful.”

Of course Tiso ignored most of the writing to focus on the first part. “Oh, a warrior you say, you know how to use that nail you have there?”

They nodded, shoulders tense as they again, pointed to the part about the dead bodies. Then tapped it.

“Obviously they weren’t as good as me then.”, he huffed. “Say, if you do fancy yourself a warrior, I hear there’s a place for us, an arena of sorts. Maybe we’ll meet up there, and you can show me what you know.” He held up his shield, the metal glinting in the lights of the lumafly lanterns. “That is, if your parents let you, Squib.”

The grub sighed with their whole body, and wrote back to reply.

“I am not a kid. I’m probably older than you.”

Tiso couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. “Okay, okay, whatever you say. You got a name, little Squib?”

The being rubbed their face for a moment and wrote back. “My name is Ghost. You?”

“Heh, you’re speaking to Tiso! Remember that name, it’ll probably be famous.” He preened a little, slightly disappointing to find that the little Ghost was just staring at him. Once again they presented their scribbles.

“Or I’ll remember it to put on your grave marker.”

Bummer, kid. Tiso at first thought the squib was mocking him. He opened his mouth to call them a little shit, but he took a second look at them. They looked tired and weary. They looked like someone used to hearing bad news. Inside, he felt a little guilty at this. Clearly this thing...Ghost...was genuinely worried about his safety and he went and spit it back in their faces. It seems that foot-in-mouth disease is a reoccurring issue with him.

He sighed. “Look, I know you don’t believe me, but I promise that I know what I’m doing. If things are too bad, I know when to cut my losses and run, alright?”

Ghost brightened up at that and nodded. Tiso snickered to lighten the mood, reaching down to pat them between the horns (something they radiated a scowl at, but said nothing about).

“No worries, if anything, I do wanna see what you can do sometime!”

And with that, Tiso jumped down the well.

---

Well, Tiso should have listened to the little Ghost. Because he had to fight every inch of the way to reach this one stag station. He had learned the name of this wretched section, ‘the Forgotten Crossroads’, and he wished it could be forgotten. He had barely landed on the stonework below when an infected bug lunged out of the darkness, hissing. He had swiftly decapitated it, getting some orange gunk all over his shield. He had wanted to clean it off then and there, but the buzzing sound of vengeflies made him rethink his plan. The feral Tiktiks and Crawlids didn’t give him much trouble, except the time he stepped on one by accident and their spikes hurt like hell. The vengeflies were bastards like usual, screeching as they tried to dive bomb him.

And oh, the aspids. The fucking aspids. How he hated them. He felt so much satisfaction every-time he threw his shield and popped their horrible little glowing abdomens. The only problem was the orange that splashed out burned any exposed bit of chitin he had. Never before, had he been glad to own his armor. He would be extremely happy if he drove those little bastards to extinction. The husks though, were very horrible. Not in a fighting way, in there they were stupid in that they only knew how to run straight at him. He could take their heads off at a distance, shield returning to him with a flash of soul. In the end, he pitied them. They were once bugs, like him, but something had changed, and they became infected. He had been happy to find a hot spring that he could scrub himself and his equipment clean. He didn’t know if he even could be infected, but he decided to err on the side of caution. The orange...goo...he couldn’t call it proper hemolymph, didn’t seem to cause him trouble for now. But still, better safe than sorry. He made camp there for the night, but not only because he didn’t want to get out of the water.

He had braved the crossroads again the next day, ducking under aspids and slaughtering husks until he found the relative safety of the stag station. He sighed and sat on the bench, leaning backwards to rest a spell.

Then came the sound of rumbling. He was instantly alert, shield at the ready and his eyes trained to the tunnel. He expected many things to come out of that tunnel, but he didn’t expect to see little Ghost so soon. The stag they are riding slid to a stop, bending down to let the little warrior off. The stag spoke to him, Tiso didn’t catch what exactly, and watched the warrior wave goodbye as the stag took off down the tunnel again.

They turned and saw him and seemed just as surprised. They bounced a bit in delight and rushed over, waving.

“Hello to you too, little warrior. See? I’m perfectly fine.” Tiso gestured to himself with a grin. “Though I will admit, those aspids suck.”

Ghost nodded rapidly in agreement, going as far as to draw their nail and stomp a little. Tiso laughed.

“No worry, If you’re going up I have thinned their numbers a bit. Seems like having a big gross abdomen makes it easy for someone to cut you down. It’s the perfect target! You can’t miss!”

Again Ghost nodded in agreement. Remembering that he couldn’t understand those weird hand sign things, they took out their journal and pen once more. It was once of those fancy ones that held the ink on the insides but still needed refilling from time to time. They hopped up on the bench to join him, there was plenty of room after all.

“So,” Tiso began, “What have you been up to?”

“I’m trying to figure out a way past the fungal wastes.” They wrote. Tiso could easily look over their shoulder so they didn’t have to keep turning their book around.

“Fungal wastes?”

Ghost chirped, which absolutely did not make Tiso jump a little. They were just, so quiet. They were obviously mute but he didn’t expect them to make sounds. Tiso hid his reaction and watched as they fucking reached inside themselves again and pulled out a map. They opened it up, showing an incomplete map, each section in a different colored ink. Tiso whistled, impressed.

“You did that all on your own?”

They shook their head and wrote out. “Cornifer sells basic maps. I find all the hidden stuff.” They gestured to the various lines on the paper. Some of the ink was newer than others, which meant they back tracked and found new places. They even did little doodles of interesting things they saw. The sheer amount of drawn spikes and thorns make him question just how much fun he’s going to have traversing some of this kingdom.

“That’s still hella impressive for such a little grub.” He teased. He was arrogant, but he could recognize talent. “Maybe if being a warrior doesn’t work out, you could be a map maker in the future.”

Ghost just held their map for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. It looked like they wanted to write something, but passed it up to put on a more cheerful demeanor. “It’s nice you think I’m that good.” They wrote.

“Heh, I can recognize talent. By the way, since you’ve been all over the place, have you figured out where this arena is?”

“I hear that it’s called the ‘Colosseum of Fool’s. It’s somewhere near the City of Tears, I think.” They make sure Tiso read what they wrote before drawing a line with a claw from the stag station where they sit to somewhere east. They had a place marked ‘Crystal Peak’ and ‘Resting Grounds’, so it was probably near those places.

“Thanks, Squib. You probably saved me a lot of walking.”

Ghost innocently pointed to the stag station’s bell.

Tiso shook his head. “Oh no no no, true warriors don’t convenience themselves like that! True warriors make it to where they go on their own efforts alone.”

He was so full of shit and he could tell that Ghost knew. He honestly didn’t’ want to be in any dark, tight spaces. He couldn’t help thinking of the colony he grew up in. How dark and how crowded it was. You couldn’t find a moments peace to yourself and cave ins could happen at any time. How close the walls were to each other. How you never knew when the ground would rumble and stones would start to fall. No sir, he won’t take the stag way.

Ghost gave them the ‘whatever you say’ look before they rolled their map back up and tucked it away again.

“Where the fuck are you putting all that?” Tiso exclaimed as Ghost also put away their book and pen. They only shrugged in response and then gleefully bounced away with a wave goodbye. He heard the patter of little feet, and then the shriek of a vengefly, only to hear the sharp slice of a nail and the silence after.

Hrm...perhaps this was a warrior after all?

Tiso leaned back, determined to rest a little more before continuing his journey. With how big this place is, he wasn’t sure he’d see the little warrior again, and something about that statement saddened him.

---

Tiso had no idea there’d be an entire lake this big in Hallownest. Sure, water in caves was common, it’s how the caves were made after all, but this was something else. He sat on the sand, a campfire crackling softly as a tiktik roasted on a stick. All around him were fossils of shells, creatures long since gone and lost to time. One made for a nice seat and he wondered a bit to whom it may have belonged to. Some water snail, maybe. The water was clean and clear enough that he could take a dip to rinse off the grim of travel and found it most refreshing.

It had taken him a couple days to make his way here. Some paths were blocked off, either to cave ins or rusted closed, so he had to improvise. Moving through the Resting Grounds was eerie. It was full of graves, yeah, but once you fight empty husks for a while, tombstones start loosing their spookiness. There he had run into another stag station and swiftly turned back around. He took another pathway he didn’t try and ended up here, at this lake.

He thought of all the empty houses along the way. He poked inside to take a look here and there and only took things that he needed. The dead weren’t going to use them, he was sure no spirit would begrudge him for taking a few spices or a blanket. It did make for useful places to rest, as he could just shut the doors and windows to keep out husks. But still, he couldn’t help but feel like a trespasser in this dead kingdom.

He mused on this as he poked at the roasting tiktik. It’ll be done soon and then he can eat and continue his journey. A warrior needs their energy after all.

He poked up his antenna as he heard a distant noise over the crackling of the fire. He turned and looked over the lake, watching a white dot in the distance grow steadily closer. Water kicked up around bent air currents as the figure flew just above the surface. When close enough, he spotted the horns.

Oh, it was them. Small world, huh?

Little Ghost seemed to spot him as well. As soon as they reached the beach, they cut off whatever power they were using to run straight at him. They were all waves and ‘smiles’, tilting their head up to look at him in obvious glee.

“Hello, Squib!” Tiso grinned, he wouldn’t admit it but he was glad to see the little bug. “Still in one piece I see?”

They nodded and gestured to himself.

“Yeah, told you I’d be fine!” He took a moment to poke at the tiktik again and caught a flash of light on metal. Little Ghost had drawn their nail and was holding it out for Tiso to see. Oh, it seems like they got a new one, or they fixed up their old one. The other was dull, and this one had a soft pale light to it. Nothing fancy so far, but he could tell it was sharper.

“Nice.” He was impressed. “But I’m a shield guy. I don’t know much about nails other than that you shouldn’t get stabbed by them.”

The little bug ‘laughed’, huffing air in amusement as the reached over and pointed at his shield. They looked at it, and then back at him, titling their head.

“Sure, you can look, but be careful, because it can do this.” He attached his shield to his arm and squeezed his hand just so. There was a click, and the sides of the shield unfolded into blades, a perfect circle of pain. Ghost vibrated in response, the dark eyes within their mask shining brightly in the light of the fire. Tiso grinned and flexed again, withdrawing the blades to make a normal shield again. “And that, is how I deal with aspids. It can also come back when I throw it.”

He wasn’t sure why he was telling this to Ghost. Weren’t they going to fight sooner or later? If so it would be best to hold his cards close to his chest and keep his surprises as surprises. But there was just...something about this bug that made him want to talk about the things he knows. They were paying rapt attention, eyes scanning all the details made in the shield. Bugs that only wielded shields were not very common, he had found, so maybe they just never seen something like the one he has before. Maybe he wanted to be the one to cause the air of wonder and awe in someone else.

Maybe he just wanted a bit of attention that didn’t result in getting bruises.

Ghost touched the shield gently with a paw, feeling the metal a little before they withdrew, satisfied. They nodded their approval and sat down, looking up at him expectantly.

“Oh? What’s this? Do you want tales of how I used this shield?” A giddy happy feeling welled up in his chest as Ghost nodded rapidly. They moved their hands, signing a word he didn’t’ know how to understand. He could figure it either meant ‘thank you’ or ‘please’, either way they were polite. They shuffled and got comfortable and watched Tiso as he began to talk.

Tiso talked for so long that he forgot all about his tiktik.

–

Tiso sat on the bench, the roar of the crowd above him shaking loose the dust on the ceiling. It fell around him in motes of light reflected from the fires in the pit. There were other warriors there too, waiting their turn to engage in the carnage above. So this was the Colosseum of Fools. A crowded arena where a corpse sat as the seat of honor, empty gaze watching as the combatants did their damndest to kill each other. Geo was rapidly exchanged between hands as fighters either won, yielded, or died. Most died, but so it was in the way of the arena. He had taken time to watch to get a scope of what he was dealing with and concluded that the bugs in this kingdom were fucking insane. He was not used to this style of games, but he supposed he’d have to learn. He met the little fool chained up and dangling from the ceiling. He paid his fee and waited for his turn in the pit. There was a shriek above, and something big slamming into the ground. He imagined that he could expect to fight more beasts than warriors.

What he was not expecting, was little Ghost to jump down into the pit.

“Hey, you made it!” Tiso couldn’t help but exclaim as Ghost ran over to climb on the bench as well. “This is the place for us, I can feel it. There’s finally a challenge for me here.”

Ghost nodded, and in a flash held their journal and pen. “Are you doing the trials?”

He snorted, “Of course I am, and you?”

“Not yet, just exploring.”

“Hey what, are you afraid of being paired against me?” Tiso tugged his hood a little, smoothing down his antenna to try and stifle the intense smell of infected hemolymph. For a moment, he felt a flash of relief at Ghost’s prior statement. He didn’t quite believe that this bug was an adult, but they seemed to be a good sort. Did they really need to do this, taint their soul with battle just for the glory of it? For a bug like Tiso, he was okay with it. He was okay with it ever since he found himself alone with only a shield to protect him and bad memories to keep him company. He had to get tough, but did this little being who asked him for stories really need to get tough?

They shook their head as their shoulders shook with mirth. “No, I have things I have to do. I’ll fight you later and I’ll make you the one scared.” Their shoulders kept shaking, so Tiso assumed this was all said in jest.

“Bold words from a little shit.” Tiso was interested in seeing just what they can do, but later in a spar. Away from a place like this. This wasn’t a place for them.

They nearly rolled over, chirping in laughter and getting strange looks from the other waiting combatants.

Tiso rounded on them. “Mind your fucking business.” He snarled, and the combatants averted their gaze to go back to polishing their weapons. Good.

Ghost took a few deep breaths to calm themselves down. “You don’t have to be mean.”

“Sometimes you gottah be mean.” Tiso countered. “If they tried to throw you out or something, I would have cut off any limb that touched you.”

Woah, where did that thought come from?

Ghost looked at Tiso for a moment, really looking at him. Tiso felt like those eyes could see into his very soul and he suppressed a shudder. Ghost looked back to their book and wrote again.

“Why?”

Tiso gulped, time to bullshit and fast. “Well, because we were practically destined to battle each other. Hell, we keep running into each other in this dead fucking kingdom. What are the odds of that? What are the odds of both of us, meeting multiple times, and then meeting up here? It’s destiny!”

They tilted their head.

“If we are going to have a proper spar, none of us can get hurt before then. We have to be at 100%, right? So I won’t let anyone lay a claw on you until then.” There, nailed it.

They nodded and tapped their pen against the bottom of their mask in thought. They took a while to write, in which Tiso glanced around to make sure the other combatants weren’t about to get bored and try to pick a fight. Finally, they tapped his arm and showed him what they wrote.

“I understand. That means you have to promise to be okay until then.” They gestured above as more dust shook loose and rained down in a shower of gray. The crowd roared again, along with the sounds of something big screaming.  

“Sure, I can do that. If I break my promise I’ll give you five thousand geo.” This was a prop bet for sure. He didn’t have that kinda money yet, he’d have to earn it in the arena. But he was confident in his abilities, he would be fine and he’d be able to take off time to have a proper spar with his little companion friend buddy fellow warrior.

They nodded and held out their hand, which he took and shook. Gods, they had such little paws. “Good doing business with ya, Squib.”

They did their odd version of ‘smiling’ again. “I got to go, gonna try and go up more.”

“Good luck with that.” Tiso watched them put away their book, and with a hop, skip, and a jump, vanished up the pit. He had time now, to sit and sort out his feelings. He had that weird ‘big brother’ urge, and it wasn’t because they were so small. Nah, this person listened to him and liked him. He figured he can try and do the same.

---

Tiso was in a world of hurt, agony seeped into the broken crack in his chest. Hemolymph kept flooding his lungs and dripping out the corners of his mandibles. There was a fog around him in his mind, his barely open eyes blurry and seeing only smudges of green and blue. Flecks of white occasionally crossed his eyes before vanishing again. He had long since given up on trying to move, each pull of muscle only made the hemolymph flow faster. He struggled to recall what was happening as the pain moved in and out, like it was happening to someone else.

Breathe in. Breath out. Breathe in. Breath out.

The only thing he can do was just lay there and breathe wetly. Each breath he had to mentally will and it took up all other functions for now. He had no mental power to spare on anything else, so when a bigger fleck of white took up his vision and didn’t leave, he had no clue what to make of it. What the hell? He took a breath, momentary forgetting too when he pondered the white. A cough tore into his chest and he could feel the broken edges of chitin rubbing together. Something was touching him. Something was trying to get his attention, but he couldn’t spare the thought.

Breathe in. Breath out. Breathe in. Breath out.

The white vanished suddenly and Tiso found himself unable to bring himself to care or wonder about it. He had to keep breathing. Something deep and hot within himself had refused to give up. He had something to do that was very important and he couldn’t miss it. He wouldn’t. The weight of his shield was his only current comfort. Just as suddenly, the white appeared again, with a flash of red and gray. He peered at the smudges as distant sounds tickled his antenna. Was he underwater? Why couldn’t he understand them? A flash of pain and suddenly his world twisted. Colors spun around and around and it made it hard to concentrate on breathing. More sounds. More pain.

Breathe in. Breath out.

Breathe in. Brea-

It seemed like only a second and he was consumed in fire. A burning ache spread over himself as he saw only darkness. The darkness and a shriek as round orange pustules throbbed and vibrated. The sickening sound of hot fluids spilling and the nasty pop as pustules burst in a shower of gore. He was there. He had his shield, as a giant thing of teeth and screams jumped into the arena. He could barely raise his shield and then there was so much pain.

Trapped. Trapped like the fallen tunnels as the air got stale and lungs burned. Instead of the cries of the dying there was the roar of a crowd.

Take my breath, his sister had said. A little tiny thing with a tiny heart. A stone had hit her. The cave was too crowded and there wasn’t enough air. She was dying. Tiso couldn’t move the stone or she’d die faster.

Take my breath, she said. Then she breathed no more.

She always wanted to be a warrior.

She wanted to help people.

She never got to grow up.

You wasted her breath, the mawlurk shrieked as it fell toward him. You wasted it. You wasted it to die like a Fool!

Then was falling and falling and falling and falling an-

He felt cool hand in his, so tiny and small. They held on tight and Tiso stopped falling.

---

Tiso cracked his eyes open, still blurry and still in pain. He felt odd. The pain was there, but a large portion seemed locked away, just barely felt on the surface. He felt a hand in his, and with a colossal effort he managed to tilt his head to the side.

He was in some hut, on a bed, and holding his hand was the little Ghost. They must have felt the movement, because their head snapped around and looked on his eyes. A rapid flash of emotions, anger, grief, relief, joy, and others he didn’t have the ability to process, cycled through their very being. His hand was gripped with both paws now and a dribble of black welled up in their eyes to drip down their mask. Tiso wanted to say something, but it was taking a bit to remember how to do so. A large shadow fell over him, and he instinctively turned his head up to look.

Standing over him was an enormous beetle with a nail the size of Tiso himself. They looked down disappointingly at him.

“You must be Tiso, eh?”

He could only nod in response.

“You have to be the luckiest bastard in this whole dead kingdom.” The beetle moved over to a table, clinking glasses together and pouring some liquid. “You landed in just the right spot for Ghost to find you and close enough for me to come get you.”

He returned and handed a glass of water to Tiso, waiting for him to grip it before letting go. “I am Nailmaster Oro and you are here because my pupil insisted. You are going to be bed ridden for a while. Be glad I am more patient than my brothers, because after a whole week of putting you back together, I’m going to be glad when you leave.”

Tiso gratefully took the water and sucked it down, letting the liquid cool his dry throat. Once hydrated, he looked down to the ocean of bandages covering his front and one of his arms. His shield lay tilted against the bed, in arms reach. A whole week was gone, just like that. Oro must have felt the questions in his mind, because be continued to talk.

“You nearly got crushed to death, you goddamn idiot.” Oro tutted, looking over the bandages with the bedside manor of a primal aspid. “The Colosseum of Fools is just that, a collection of fools looking to die for no good reason.”

Tiso opened his mandibles to retort but only managed a wheeze. His lungs felt particularly awful and Ghost patted their hand in sympathy. Ghost let go just long enough to run over to Oro, tugging on his cloak. Once Oro bent down, Ghost gently embraced as much as he could, which wasn’t a lot. He saw Oro sigh with the tiniest glimpse of affection, before roughly patting them on the head. He glanced back to Tiso, and scowled when he realized that the ant saw the whole thing. Ghost stepped back to return to Tiso, taking his hand again.

“You’ll be okay after a bit of healing and time in the hot springs.” Oro went to squat by the fire, stirring something that smelled wonderful in a pot. “But I hope you found what was so damn important up in the coliseum.

Yes, Tiso thought to himself, I did find something. He looked at Ghost in a new light, and smiled as best as he could. They couldn’t replace her, but maybe, he could learn to not be a colossal fuck up. Maybe in that way, he can be okay with himself.

Ghost patted Tiso again for a bit and then reached in their ‘whatever’ space to pull out a pre-written piece of paper. Seeing what was written on it made Tiso almost want to take back everything he had just thought.

“You owe me 5000 geo.”

#hollow knight #fanfiction #tiso #ghost #nailmaster oro #tw: injury #tw: suffocation #found family #the knight #big brother tiso #tiso doing tiso things #ghost adopts yet another random bug #tiso is a dudebro #Anonymous #my writing

[mistresspandora-archive]

Yes, I Really Do Struggle to Write Smut

And yet I write a LOT of it. And, generally speaking, the finished product doesn’t suck, personal preferences and *ahem* cursed ships notwithstanding. 

I’ll say stuff like this, that smut is the most difficult thing to write for me, and inevitably some lovely person who really enjoys reading said smut (ily btw) thinks I’m full of shit because I write so damn much of it (clearly, I’m a masochist). Either that, or they assure me I’m insane because it’s actually really scrumptious trash and I’m being hard on myself (and ily2).

And now that I’ve sat down and thought about, I think I’ve come up with some theories about why smut is so (sorry) hard for me. I also want to be a better writer, and sometimes I find that writing out my strategy for pushing through the slumps (because a sex scene inevitably turns into a slump.... unless I’m hammered and writing about Hal getting pegged, apparently....)

So, What’s the Problem? Roughly 87% of the fic I’ve posted since I ended my writing hiatus last year (52 out of 61 stories) has included enough sexual content to warrant an E or M rating. In the course of writing almost every single one of them (usually about the time characters start getting nekkid) I declare I hate the story, I hate the premise, I just want it DONE and POSTED and I never want to look at it again. 

This inevitably does not stick, of course.

Why Does Every Word Feel Like Pulling Teeth? Probably because I’m trying to do too much all at once. I have a mental checklist as I’m writing, and in sex scenes, the nice orderly list gets all jumbled up. 

What’s In That Checklist? For any scene of narration (characters talking and/or doing whatever, except for fighting), the checklist looks something like:

Sensory details 

Setting (where tf are we)

Characterization/character tags (Jamie’s stag-red hair and expressive humming, John’s finely-boned face)

Emote, goddamn it (internally)

Dialogue (push the story, emote externally--or friggin don’t, if it’s Jamie/John and their heads are still in their asses)

Action verbs (move the puppets)

Move everything toward the goal for the scene

For a sex scene, it’s more like this:

Sensory details

Setting

Characterization

Emote, for God’s sake

Dialogue (but don’t be too chatty, unless this is a dirty talk thing. But damn, stop saying “fuck” and “harder” so much)

Sensory details

Action verbs (but make ‘em sexy)

Pacing (should be rhythmic, alternating the short and long sentences)

Loaded word sounds (S’s and L’s)

Maintain the balance between Insert Tab A into Slot B and Don’t actually use any words that mean penis.

Kindly put the adverbs away.

Oh my god, where are their hands????

How did we work through consent? Does the level of enthusiasm (or dubiousness) fit the theme and tone overall?

Sensory details (If you say his skin is heated one more time, he’s going to need a doctor’s note for this)

Is this position physically possible? (spend ten minutes in vivid visualization, only to determine it’s close enough. Do NOT open an incognito browser and research, JHRC)

Describe a light source or stop using his eyes.

What’s the lubrication situation and did we remember to communicate it? (The oil, the oil specifically for sex, the sex oil)

Wait, scroll back up, did I remember all their clothes? I feel like I missed a waistcoat somewhere...

Don’t draw it out too much (boring), but let’s not have them blowing their load like immediately, sheesh (it may be John’s erection, but my name’s on it.... you know what I meant, stop giggling)

Write around the orgasm (like writing around the pain or drawing around the egg)

You forgot the post-coital pillow talk again, dummy

You left out three senses. They also have noses, taste buds, and ears. Yeah, definitely include all three in one sentence, good job 🙄

Oh Shit. Okay, So What’s the Plan? In short... I know going into the scene that I’m going to go through it at least two or three times (four or five if it’s one I’m really struggling with) before I even get to line editing.

Five passes through a sex scene look something like:

Insert Tab A into Slot B. Get down the bare bones of the bare boning going down. Actions, verbs, basic dialogue. Physical positioning happens here. Pose the nekkid action figures.

Emotions, more sensory details, where did the sex oil come from, Pan. Do we have consent??

Setting, external stimuli, that pesky light source, the weather (if it’s relevant). 

Language and pacing: Okay, now make it pretty. Bust out that thesaurus. Shorten some sentences, lengthen some others. Remove filter words to keep the reader deep in the POV character’s head.

Final pass: does it flow? Does it fit the story? Did I accomplish my goal?

For a one-shot, I usually combine some steps, so it’s like, step 1, steps 2 & 3 together, steps 4 & 5 together. Unless I’m wasted and writing about pegging Hal. We let that one stay flash fic (love you @derpandabar lol).

Part of my struggle too is that I’ve spent however-long in the build up, working on the emotional side of the characters, that all I’m thinking about is the feelingsssss and not how to position the nekkid action figures. So when I get to that part, I suddenly forget how sex works 👉🏻👌🏻 ⁉

What the Hell Was the Point of All This? I’ve got to be really fucking honest with you... I am legitimately procrastinating a sex scene by writing this stupid post. It’s next up to write in my WIP and I’ve been avoiding it for days. I cannot make this crap up.

I also have never written this stuff out before like this. I’ve thought about it here and there, but seeing it written out makes it feel more manageable (which hopefully means more efficiently-written smut scenes 😉).

And since I went to the trouble to write it all out, I’ll scream it into the void. Maybe someone will find it interesting, perhaps helpful... more likely, if you’ve read this much, you’re ready to diagnose me with something (valid).

But also to make this point: Just because some aspect of writing is challenging, doesn’t mean you can’t do it, and it doesn’t mean that you aren’t doing it well. 

Shit. Guess I need to go (ahem) hammer (sorry) out that sex scene now.

[cheekygreenty]

Little Witch - Part 22

The Darkling x Reader

'The General is busy' Ivan stood blocking the door, not letting you through. His red silk kefta stood out like a warning sign in the dead of the hallway and his face a stony expression but you didn't miss the slight tinge of a condescending grimace.

'Ivan move away from the door.'

'The General wished to not be disturbed.'

'Ivan I could eat you for breakfast. Now move for your Deputy.' Whether it was your assertion of dominance, the copious amounts of alcohol in your system, or the firey shadows erupting from your hand, Ivan moved away from the door, defeated. You were done playing nice and done playing the diplomat. You were taking the evening off.

The doors were pushed wide open with a mere flick of your fingers, quickly meeting Aleksander's gaze already set on you. No doubt there was no need for such a dramatic entrance, but as you said, you were taking the evening off, Deputy Y/L/N has retired for the night. Y/N is here to play now and she doesn't fight fair.

There was someone right in front of him, a dirty and ragged First-Army soldier. If it weren't for the soldier's slight bow of the head in your direction, you would've guessed you walked in on a pissing contest.

'Hello Soldier'

'Deputy Y/L/N'

'You know who I am'

'Of course'

You smiled and looked at Aleksander, inspecting his face for any sign of emotion but all you were met with was a clenched jaw. 'The Stag?' A map of Ravka lay open next to him on the table but there was no indication on it of a precise location.

'Mr.Oretsev is bargaining. He won't give up the location if not for a meeting with our Sun-Summoner.' Oretsev. As in Mal Oretsev, Alina's tracker?

'And have you started to vet him? Cause from what I can see you're just standing here.'

His hands balled into fists at his side and he quickly moved past the tracker to you, grabbing your elbow tightly and dragging you out of the room and into the adjacent drawing-room. You shrugged him off just as roughly and shut the doors.

'Is this how you treat your second in command?' You brushed off your kefta, adjusting the sleeves.

'I'm getting really tired of you trying to show me up'

'Well I'm sorry I'm naturally more intimidating than you.'

Y/N and Aleksander were completely different from Deputy Y/L/N and General Kirigan. For as long as you could remember, you both kept work and life separate but now things somehow changed. The dynamics were shifting in nobody's favor. You unknowingly kept prodding for dominance which never happened before. Years ago, you were happy to listen to Aleksander, to do as he said, to go to sleep cuddled into his side having forgotten the workday, to put aside the orders he gave that didn't sit well with you. But now you craved to call the shots and he seemed to notice too.

'What do you want? I really do not have time for this.' He started pacing the room impatiently.

'Oh pray tell what is it that's so pressing? You can't get the location out of him without Alina finding out about the letters. Your lies are going to catch up with you' Didn't I tell you so.

'Can you not even pretend to be helpful?'

'No' You pursed your lips and crossed your arms.

'Have you spoken to the Queen?' He stopped pacing and waited for your answer, obviously eager to hear what the Tsaritsa had to say but despite the heartiness of the situation, you chose to stay quiet.

'No, I didn't.'

'Then do your job Deputy.' With that he swung open the door and walked out, the tension visible around him and palpitating as he strode out of view with Ivan trailing him. There it was, his small yet effective remark to remind you of your place. It was as if overnight he came to the conclusion that you were after his Grisha and was making it known you were just a Deputy and he was Aleksander Morozova, the Black Heretic and it angered you beyond reason.

*****

You found yourself right back next to Zoya with another drink in your hand. Although you felt it hitting you and relaxing all the muscles in your body, your mouth was glued shut when it came to spilling out all your problems for a shoulder to lean on.

'Zoya have you ever been proposed to?' You didn't know why you asked, but it slipped out. You could see her momentarily freeze but she covered it well with a flick of her ebony hair.

'All the time. Have you seen me? But it's always the poor and useless ones. The good ones don't want a weapon, they want a housewife'

'Wise words spoken by an even wiser woman'

'I accept credit where it's given' You both laughed and went back to meaningless conversation. Had you known when you arrived at the Little Palace that the sneering Squaler would become one of your closest friends and trusted soldiers, you would've laughed. She was still vexing and shrewd but behind all the remarks, you saw the true Zoya and you liked her.

She was very guarded, her walls built up so high from years in the Second-Army but sometimes her facade slipped. It would be the faintest look of sorrow on her face or a slight pause in her voice that would catch you off guard, slowly letting you piece together who Zoya really was. You had already come to a conclusion; she was the best damn soldier Ravka had ever seen and no doubt will amount to great things. Her fire burned bright and fervid and that's all it takes to be and do good.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see one of the Inferni twins following an oprichniki with a suspicious gaze. The alcohol might've been enough to dull your senses, but your job was still to protect the Palace and so you hastily excused yourself and followed the two from a distance. No doubt you caught the attention of many people as your gown trailed behind you and drew unnecessary attention. You looked ahead of the Inferni and studied the guard, noticing a limp. Now that you thought of it, you could've sworn the same guard had briefly conversed with a female guard too, one strikingly similar to the silks artist that dangled down next to the stairs. You shot a brief glance toward the staircase and sure enough, the silks were there but they were empty. Intruders.

You pursued the two men, noting their direction toward the chapel but another oprichniki suddenly blocked your way.

'Deputy, The General requests your presence right away.' The guard stood in front of you, the panic so vivid on his face it sobered you up substantially.

'What's the matter?' Your voice was short and annoyed as you watched the blue kefta disappear from your line of sight.

'We caught an intruder trying to escape after murdering Marie. The General thinks it is the conductor' At this you froze and your eyes widened twice their size. You suddenly felt a pang of guilt as Marie's name was mentioned. You were in charge of Marie and Alina, and if you had just done your job tonight instead of being in your head then maybe Marie would've been alive.

'And where was Genya Saffin?'

'She fought him off as much as she could but he fired at her'

'Saints' You were mad now. Not only was this man killing Grisha in their home, but he was the conductor. You had read Nina Zenik's reports about him, but knowing he somehow penetrated the walls of the Palace you had so tirelessly tried to fortify angered you beyond compare. The limping man, the silks artist, now this.

'Was he alone?'

'Seems so, Ivan and Zoya are interrogating him now, they wish for you to accompany them.'

'I'll be down momentarily, but for now come with me.' You nodded him to follow you as you hurried to the chapel not giving him a second to object. The noise of the party fizzled out, no foreign dignitary finding it appealing to pray to the Saints at this hour.

Your joined steps echoed through the golden halls and your heart rate picked up. This evening was turning sideways really quickly, maybe you shouldn't have had all those drinks. Maybe you should've told Aleksander about your predicament. Maybe you should have stayed with Marie instead. So many maybes.

You directed more guards your way as you walked, all of them silently obeying your command and not speaking. If you were right, the whole Palace was compromised and you would need reinforcements.

'You three head that way, I'll take this door.' You pointed down the hallway and turned into the door to your left. The chapel was silent and peaceful. The candles were all lit, begging to be witness to prayer, but the room itself screamed danger.

You listened for a heartbeat, felt the air for a body, but came up empty-handed. Still, you couldn't shake that strange creep of unease. Your feet took you behind the altar and between the pews, where with a gasp and a curse, you found the Inferni's body dead and surrounded in a puddle of his own blood. The gash in his head was obviously made with a knife, but the remnants of the blade were gone.

The rage flew through you like a ghost in a graveyard. A Grisha was murdered in a chapel. It felt like both a personal attack and an attack on all Grisha living in the Little Palace. The Inferni lying dead at your feet was killed in his home, murdered in the home of his Saints. You needed to find Aleksander and tell him. You needed to get the King and Queen out of here even though that would be the last thing you wanted to do.

But as soon as you found Aleksander in the courtyard facing Baghra, that unease turned into outright fear. Aleksander loved his mother, but the way he looked at her right now spoke the opposite of love. He always had doubts about her, always assumed she was scheming but she rarely ever acted. The fear pushed you to assume she definitely did something.

'What is it?' You were shivering, the bottom of your gown ruined now with dry leaves and dirt clinging to it as you made your way to the two. 'What have you done Baghra?' So much has already gone wrong.

She looked at you with a smirk, a smile that yelled in triumph 'I won' but uttered no words. You turned to Aleksander for an explanation. The shivering now chattering your teeth and turning your lips blue.

'Alina is gone, the tracker is dead'

All the air in your lungs vanished as your hands unknowingly went to wrap around the old woman's throat. 'You wretched old witch. How could you do this' Your words dripped in venom so vast it made you wince. She didn't respond to your assault in the slightest, just kept that condescending grin stuck on her lips.

You felt his hands grasping at your arms, roughly pulling you back from his mother and your chokehold. 'Y/N stop it' You didn't care about Alina too much, but purposely doing all of this to pull you and Aleksander off the rails was like a thorn in your side that never got pulled out in 98 years.

'Are you the one who killed the Inferni in the chapel too? Or the one who let intruders into my Palace? Huh? ANSWER ME' You pushed his arms away from you and ignored his questioning look. Baghra still said nothing, just shook her head as if in pity. 'Every time you leave that damn hut you cause nothing but trouble'

Taking a step back and then another, you forced yourself to walk to the dungeons to interrogate the conductor not caring if Aleksander followed you or not. If you didn't leave, you would've surely killed her.

-------

Part 23

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