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8housevenus · 5 months ago

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3rd house placements and your voice!

hii, i wanted to do more of a light & fun themed post that goes over the kind of voice you have, the type of communicator you are, and other things as well according to your 3rd house placements. if you do not have any placements in your third, check out the house ruler and apply it accordingly, ex; my third house is ruled by pisces, apply the neptune features to it!

sun in 3rd house - talk about thinking out-loud!! sun in 3rd people are such great communicators, they get things across loud and clear. never ones to hold back, natural conversationalists, and you have a voice that often sounds younger. when you talk it's heartfelt and you feel that half-assings in conversations is just not you! sometimes, your age is mistaken due to your lengths of knowledge and the ability to express your inner child through your interests. you use your hands often when you speak! often have such a memorable voice and this placement is a strong indicator of being a music artist too; justin beiber, jay z, drake, britney spears, all very household names and all are always getting their voice impersonated by other people interestingly enough!! there's versatility that spews through these people, not hard at all for them to improvise, standup, debate, etc. can be gossipy though and involved in dramas very easily because of this.

moon in 3rd house - mental clarity goes crazy here. your emotions give you all the drive you need- creatively and you don't hold back on that. they intellectualize their emotions and can formulate feelings into words very well. the kind of voice they have is much softer, eloquent, and comforting. they're the kind of people that send you a voicemail and you listen to it over and over again because it's endearing. "say it with your chest," type of people, as the moon is mostly fixated in the chest-stomach region. they have a good discernment of their environment, walking analysts, know when to intervene, etc. celebrities with moon in 3rd; jennifer aniston, megan markle, margot robbie, etc.

mercury in 3rd house - very fast-paced talkers, versatile in the way they communicate. also uses their hands while they speak, has a witty and sarcastic tint to them when they speak. often very humorous people and naturally highly innovative. for these people ideas flow into them at fast rates, often giving them plenty of projects to work on. placement of high intelligence, and great at mirroring. "excuse me, may i interrupt," types of people. love adding on to others and i notice with 3rd house mercuries as they get older, they do become a lot quieter and keep ideas to themselves. celebrities with this include; jim carey, nikola tesla, stephen hawking, etc. (like i said super wise and funny thats a dub for sure)

venus in 3rd house - first thing that comes to mind is glamorous voice. often times they talk about their love-lives (yes they always have the craziest stories about others or themselves in love). just like the sun, these people have a notable voice too. one that can even get them famous. often these people have strong followings, or crowds that really like listening to them. highly influential and lowkey some party heads. might have some commitment troubles, but other than that they have good projecting voices- soothing, and has good posture too. celebs with this; cristiano ronaldo, taylor swift, kris jenner, etc.

mars in 3rd house - i like to say they have some of the most electric voices ever. seriously. they know exactly how to spice up conversations and they move a lot when they talk. they inspire others to take course of action, usually very good individuals at gaining crowds as well, but what differentiates venusian people and mars people- is the attitude. mars gain people's attention through their eccentric-ness. other people find mars in 3rd house bundles of expression, always on the go and actually very good manifestos. usually has raspiness and deepness to their voices because they tend to shout a lot. celebs with this; miley cyrus, harry styles, katy perry, etc.

jupiter in 3rd house - these people have a love for languages. usually very diverse linguistically, and always the guy that knows a guy. very good at developing acquaintances in their environment. usually has more high-pitched voices, slow and even sensual, but clear. they like knowing a bit of everything while they can. sometimes, these people can attract things out of thin air, and receive many comments on their voice or abilities to make their life experiences sound a lot less gruesome than it really is. kind of in their own little world and has open demeanor. often times you see these people unexpectedly associating with others that "make no sense" for them or in environments that "make no sense for them". side note: the biggest struggle these people will face is people trying to mold them to be somebody they're not. they love to expand wherever they can. celebrities with jupiter in 3rd; lana del rey, lionel messi, jim carey, and gordon ramsey.

saturn in 3rd house - mean big business ok!! let me tell you, these people are amazing at using their environments for their endeavors. they're very humble speakers, reserved and kind of talk when asked to. they are great at explaining principles of underlying things, usually seems older than what they really are. they stick to one thing at a time, and they are actually easy to read while talking to them. their body language is more telling than their words sometimes. watch a saturn in 3rd house's jaw clench when they are stressed, or crack their knuckles while thinking heavily. celebrities with this placement; steve jobs, kylie jenner, bjork, zoe kravitz, etc.

uranus in 3rd house - "you can't outdo the doer," is what i get from this placement. highly intellectual people, makes significant shifts into the world. when they speak, they're actually very good at impressions, get told they don't look like how they sound, or will attract many "haters" because they challenge status quo mentality. they will never stand down when communicating their deepest interests. they seem quirky & nerdy, however highly reliable and feels a strong sense of "these people need me." as they become older, they are more cherished, while they are younger they might seem air headed. their voices are so unique to them, that you cannot easily be reminded of them by others. they are completely in their own lanes. one of a kinds. celebrities with this placement; albert einstein, elon musk, celine dion, michael jordan, etc.

neptune in 3rd house - has a deep understanding of the environment they're in. they are very quiet and timid. these people really like to connect to people based off their souls and not their physical forms. and when they speak, they have a genuine tone and strive for genuine connection. sometimes, these people think many people they cross paths with are meant to make them feel good, feel bad, question, etc. highly accepting and others can admire this person too. seems ditzy, but on the inside is a whirlpool of feeling and emotions they sense. sometimes they can get abnormal praise, simply for the way they express themselves. i notice with these people they love to make facial movements when speaking, like very dramatically sometimes. you can always tell when these people are nervous too, watch how many times they shake their feet to soothe themselves. always seems very introspective wherever they go. celebrities with this placement; al pacino, leonardo dicaprio, beyonce, kendrick lamar, etc.

pluto in 3rd house - bringing pluto into this mix, wherever they go they love to change what they can in their environments. they want to change things for the better, and usually really find interest in talking about things that isn't so typical in conversation. they are very serious people when in discussion. they hate to say a lot without leaving impact. these people will sound much older and have a profound tone. often they bring the collective darkness to a collective lightness. i notice they love using metaphors, talking in 3rd person, and dropping their egos a lot in conversations. makes undeniable changes to societal norms or social structures. these are life changers and add some humanitarianism to everyday encounters, really love dropping a lot of their own lore too! celebrities with this; angelina jolie, martin luther king, adam levine, kylian mbappe.

thank you so much for skimming through this i appreciate it as always, let me know if you relate, disagree etc. super interesting in seeing what you think, let me know if u want me to do more like these <3

#astro notess #astrology observations #astrology #mercury astrology #3rd house

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loveemagicpeace · 1 year ago

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⭐️🦋Rising Signs🎧🩵☁️

✨Aries rising-they always have a mad look and strong eyebrows or a more angry posture especially in men, a small mouth - thinner and smaller. Athletic build and many times have more muscular legs. Very spontaneous people and they will often look about themselves first. Very independent. Many times they do things by themselves and know how to stand up for themselves without needing the support of others. They do a lot of things alone and feel good about it.

💕Pisces rising-always look like thay are high and more dreamy. But their look is always sweet and kind. Many times they have the appearance of a certain character. They can attract many children. Many times they look tired, confused or sleepy. They have very artistic mind and also give me a very unique vibe in some way. They are people who will always help you.

💜Cancer rising-a rounder head and facial features are more noticeable. And their mood is always visible on the outside. In men, I often notice that they have a more frightening look or look like serial killers- idk why haha. Very private people and don't like meeting new people that much. They can give the impression that they don't like you. Family people. They can also be very dependent on other people.

🦋Sagittarius rising-they are usually tall, not so talkative depending on the planets in the first house. Their head is longer. They look youthful, full of life. They really come forward very optimistic and carefree. They will always say some joke and talk about their stories also very blod and fearless people. They enjoy doing fun things and things they are scared of. Very strong-minded. They are very loyal to themselves( in the sense that they will not stop believing in what they believe). It's very hard to change their minds unless you give them a good argument.

🏙️Leo rising-they often show a smile (huge smile). They look friendly, enthusiastic and fun. They come forward with pride and confidence. They know how to integrate into society and you can get the feeling that they are more leaders. But they don't like to be in the spotlight as much as leo sun. People remember them because they have a heightened presence.

🪷Gemini rising-talkative, communicative and will always ask something, they come forward very openly. Their face is many times smaller (small nose, ears, mouth, eyes), usually drier. They say a lot about themselves before they even get to know you. They can start a conversation anywhere and with anyone. They dare to ask a lot and often take risks, especially if they want to know something. And they are good at making things up. Open book u can ask them anything.

☂️Aquarius rising-looks like an alien or something more different, strange, they usually have a more exposed nose (it can be bigger), many times bulging eyes. They often come out different, unique & rebellious. They can also be quite quiet and shy. They can also be larger in size or have longer legs. Can come off very smart. Either have one good friend or group of friends or they can be loner or an outsider.

💎Libra rising- fashion people, they follow trends, will always look pretty. They look friendly and smiling. Many times they have smaller eyes and a more rounded, symmetrical face. They usually look like celebrities. They almost always have some sort of cosmetic surgery or correction. I often notice that they want to look perfect and put a lot of effort into how they look. They have a great sense of justice and order. These natives are the natural peacemakers in their social circles. Their charming personality is much admired.

☕️Taurus rising-more muscular, they have noses like bulls or wider, fuller lips, more accentuated cheeks. They tend to have broad shoulders and many times have muscular arms. They wear a lot of jewelry and are obsessed with always having it. They mostly spend more on accessories than on clothes. They like to wear hoodies and big headphones. They like their space and don't like people interfering with it.

🎆Scorpio rising-intimidating, sexual, emo or all black, scary, many times they have black eyeliner. Dark eyes and dark hair many times. A ot of times they can come off intense or intimidating ,secretive & mysterious. They may be more quiet or reserved. They don't like to hide their true face & are always real. Scorpios are associated with power, and you can see this reflected in their physical appearance. They give their all and expect the same in return.

🌠Capricorn rising- powerful, intimidating, strong, their face is often serious or poker face (you can't read them). It is difficult to know what they are thinking and feeling. Many times their emotions are not noticed. They can look quite cold. They have more noticeable cheekbones and bones in general. Many times they have the figure of a model. They give a lot to the respect and responsibilities. And does not have to be like responsibility to do something or whatever but they want people to take responsibility for the things they do or say. They hate when people do things without meaning. Also when you lose their respect I don't think you will ever get the respect back. There’s no gaining their trust overnight— they are careful about who they let into their space, because they’ve learned that not everyone needs to be a part of their life.

🎨Virgo rising-critical approach, often annoyed(because they can be easily afect by environment )often their eyes are more exposed - sometimes they look a bit like a pisces. Also well shaped eyebrows, can come forward angry. In men, I notice that they often darken their eyes or rim them. I often notice that men have longer hair .They can also have their own vibe & can be very different from the others. I also think that when they ask you for opinion or are critical of you is actually because they love you. Kurt Cobain was virgo rising and was very poetic and self-reliance. They care a lot actually even if it doesn't seems like.

✨ig-bekylibra

-Rebekah⭐️☁️

#astrology #energy #zodiac signs #planets #my notes #astrological houses #birth chart #rising signs

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alienpossession · 3 months ago

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Another continuation of the Dubai alien series

The model-bodybuilder Sander woke up from his proper sleep feeling refreshed. He opened the curtain to let the sunshine in as he walked around his apartment with no clothes whatsoever. After quick stretching session and several minutes of posing in the mirror, he walked past his sleeping bodyguard. He got the bodyguard as part of the scheme he worked on with the Prince as the alien that is now residing inside Sander has too close of an attachment with this particular bodyguard back when he was still a Prince, so he asked the new Prince to allow the bodyguard to be working for him still.

Sander wakes the bodyguard up, and with no hesitation, the fresh-from-slumber bodyguard quickly kneel and started kissing Sander's pubes. His tongue quickly explored the bushy and musky hair of his beloved Master before gently gliding across the veinous shaft of the bodybuilding powerhouse. Sander grunted in approval as his half-chubbed up cock started to snake into its full length, the tip emerged from the foreskin as it revealed its massive mushroom-head form that the bodyguard quickly serviced with his slick tongue. When he eventually made the move to let the 7.5 inches girthy monstrosity entered his mouth, Sander lost in euphoria as he grabbed the head of the bodyguard and jackhammered his cock deep into his throat. The majestic payload quickly released in the matter of minutes, making the devout bodyguard's throat slick with cum and his face looking like he's some kind of cum-guzzling twink when he is in fact a highly-trained martial artist and marksman that would never kneel to anyone, let alone allowing his face painted with sticky, salty cum. Satisfied, Sander gently tapped the bodyguard's face and then give him one big kiss before heading to the shower to clean himself

Sander of course didn't shower and instead basked in his glorious reflection and musky body odour.

He's going to the gym anyway so he can just shower later after his workout, so with no effort to clean himself thoroughly, he just wiped away some of the drying cum all over his body before donning his workout clothes

When he arrived at the gym, he started to put on the work, putting his muscle under so much stress, the veins started to pop and his grunts become increasingly louder as he racked up more weights and intensity to all his routine. As he just finished with hitting his personal best deadlift and decided to call it a day, he returned the massive weights to the rack and that's when his eyes caught on the two young studs he has not yet converted.

Newcomer? Tourist? Yeah, seemed like a fine looking pair of fit tourists. Based on the language spoken, these tourists came from Turkey but the way they talked, there's that unmistakably Germanic tonality to it, so....Turkish diaspora living in Germany then? Well, no need to guess, he will find out by himself when he shoves the slugs later to takeover their young brain.

So, what is the Prince really up to while his operatives worked to convert people left and right?

Prince Rashid, the eldest son of the local mid-level nobility, is looking at the alien as its tail-end finally slithered inside and left no traces behind. Then, he gently closed his tanktop back and smirked

"It's good to be back,"

The younger prince, who was practically responsible for the mass takeover of his own family, hugged his older brother as he then handed him his thobe to cover him more in-line with what an Emirati nobility should wear

"Good to have you with me here. Thanks for the fun night, it's been a while since we bonded, don't you think?"

"Will do anything for my younger bro. So, you will take care of them and all the clean-up?"

"Yeah, watch,"

The 9 Insta-hotties the young Prince called for the night suddenly wake up from their sleep and started to stand up as if they were some military recruits or something with their posture all straight and stiff. All this happened despite the fact that they were asleep soundly just mere seconds ago.

"Go clean up the apartment, whores. After that, get the fuck off from here and maybe start being useful and start marking all the men you all deemed worthy of my attention, understand?"

"Yes, my prince," all of them said in unison, their brain already fried by the slug and turned into bunch of bimbo puppets. Prince Rashid just laughed out loud

"Amazing, my Prince. Very amazing. I wish you would be generous enough one day to use my body to give such command, you know I'm more brutal than my younger brother. I'm quite the abusive jerk, even to my harem, let alone European whores like them,"

"Well, respectfully, I'm not really into all that. Besides, what's the point of you being all mighty and aggressive when you cannot even defend yourself by the end and turned into mere puppets anyway? Go get back home to your wife and kids before I humiliate you further, I don't want to see you anymore tonight," the tone of the young Prince quickly turned sharp with anger as he felt like his own subject dared to question his power and how far he could take things

The possessed Prince Rashid tried to be playful as he lightly punched the young prince on his shoulder while saying

"That's not how a younger brother addre---"

"Just get the fuck out before I make you soil your clothes with gallons of cum till your balls dry, I'm not in the mood for jokes," threatened the main alien using its real, coarsed voice. The older prince quickly retreated himself out from the penthouse in fear of triggering his progenitor's anger, while the younger prince sighed, feeling like in need of a new learning adventure and a form that will be more respected or provided him with excitement and thrilling life choices. That's when he remembered about the intel he already asked for Steven Barnett and all the preparation in regards to his takeover. Yup, that sounds hella tasty, slipping inside the son-in-law of an active General with strategic position in the United States? Maybe it's about time he executed the transference, it's been almost 2 weeks that Steven and his wife spent their time here, it wouldn't be too long before his return to the states. Looking at his phone, 5:44 AM, there's definitely still enough time for him to make the move right around this morning. But, it means he should really share the directives to the puppets all at once, the Prince cannot risk Steven to be able to get away from this. As the Prince stretched his body, he then sits down and decided to concentrate and pulling all the available memories from all the puppets that could be useful for the plan to succeed

As expected, Steven walked into the trap set-up by the aliens as he went to the gym recommended by them, not knowing it's basically a hub for puppets

The gym is surprisingly quiet despite the fact that it's morning in the weekend, but Steven is definitely not complaining. In fact, it makes the whole thing so much easier for him as he spent all his time to workout and not wasting time with some small talks with his friends. Yes he can comfortably called them friends, but it's not always fun to always have this sense of obligation to talk to them or mingle with them when the focus is supposedly the workout, so the quietness is a welcome change, especially noting the fact that he's about to go back home to the States very early in the morning

8.50 AM and the gym is still hella empty, except a few people that he never met previously. Probably some infrequent gymgoer judging from their body shapes, but hey, it's not like he needed to judge them. After putting all the weights back to its rack, he strutted to the locker room and started stripping. He kicked off his rank, size 15 shoes away to reveal a very sweaty socked feet, which he also quickly took off and tossed to the corner of the locker room. He scrunched up his nose, he should grab that foot spray he saw yesterday in the supermarket later before heading back to the hotel. Then, he stuffed his drenched tanktop that clung to his massive body and the sweat-soaked sweatpants to his duffel bag, only leaving his sweaty underwear on as he decided to cool down a bit while doing some posing practices

Enamored by the ripple of his own muscles and the music he blasted, Steven didn't realize the swarm of men that carefully entered the locker room, led by Craig and Olly. Steven practically posed in the far-end corner of the massive gym locker room and the rows of lockers blocked his view and hearing until it's too late.

Olly was the first that made the move as his sudden appearance slightly surprised Steven. The young blondie quickly apologized and acted normally as if he just arrived for a workout while complimenting Steven's pumped physique. Then, things take a wild turn when Olly decided to say that he wanted to get a taste of Steven's sweaty ass. That surprised Steven even more as he chuckled it off trying to pass it as some crude jokes, but when Olly literally stared at him like he's some kind of prey, Steven quickly reacted with anger on how he would never swing that way and he's not gonna let any man get close to his ass or dick! To his surprise, Craig, Olly's stepbrother, grabbed Steven's ass from behind which caused the much-bigger Steven to yelp in surprise. That's when Olly marched on as his stepbrother tried to held Steven's hand. Steven fought off the two brothers and even managed to slam Olly to one of the locker before trying to make his escape. But the severity of the situation and the dawning realization that he wouldn't be able to get away from here quickly engulfed him when he's faced with the reality as swarm of fit bodybuilders and gymgoers blocking his way from both ends. He tried to reason with them, asking them to let him go and start thinking rationally, but all effort went futile as their mission were clear, to convert him per the direction of the Prince.

"Convert me to what? Islam? Fuck, are you kidding me? All this just because of some religious fanaticism?"

One of them then said

"Oh no, Steven, it's better than that,"

Alarm bells quickly rang inside Steven's mind when all the men that surrounded him smirked devilishly as they opened their mouth and then spit out some gooey black slug from their mouth to their hands. As Steven's started screaming for help, all the men tried to muffle his mouth as they thrown and even shoved the slimy black slug down Steven's throat. His scream quickly drowned by the loud cheers of men that witnessed all the slug entered Steven's body from his mouth, nose and ears and quickly trembled as the alien seized control of his brain. But, the men quickly moved over as the Prince tried to approach the convulsing Steven. He already arrived at the gym and simply cannot wait to transfer. As the Prince retched out copious amount of black slug, the one that entered Steven's whole system earlier also moved out from his body as it did its purpose already to paralyze Steven temporarily. The slugs returned back to their respective bodies while the Prince slug slithered through Steven's gaped mouth and flared nostrils. After another seizure as the slug established control over his brain, Steven opened his eyes a brand new man

Add: I think this sort of act as a closure for this particular story. But if there's anything you wanted me to whip out, like more stories on Mike, or any of the characters, hit me up and maybe I can make some spin-off or something, but only if anyone is interested

#alien possession #male possession #alien takeover #alien expansion #alien transference #male puppet #male takeover #apushforfolly #dubai alien

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satellite-evans · 1 month ago

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The Artist

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Summary: sometimes, an artist is far more interesting than the art itself.

Word count: 5.4k

Warnings: fluff, angst? Anthony not being able to mind his own business, briefly mention of parents passing away

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

Lady Danbury’s soirées were the heart of the social season—part chessboard, part battlefield, where every glance and whisper held strategic importance. Benedict Bridgerton, however, approached such gatherings as an observer rather than a player. He found the art on the walls more captivating than the posturing of the ton.

Wandering through Lady Danbury’s grand halls, Benedict stopped before a painting of a turbulent sea, his thoughts briefly drifting to his own half-finished sketches. A voice interrupted him, sharp and vibrant.

“It’s ambitious, but overworked. The sea churns, but the emotion feels... manufactured.”

He turned to see her: a young woman standing a few steps away, her posture poised yet unguarded. She wore her beauty with an effortless confidence, her eyes a vivid storm of intellect and intrigue. She wasn’t like the other women at the ball, fluttering fans and batting lashes. She observed the world with precision, as though she’d already decided it was hers to command.

“An intriguing critique,” Benedict replied, his interest piqued. “Though perhaps the chaos was intentional. Sometimes life demands a lack of restraint.”

Her gaze flicked to him, assessing. “Chaos is compelling, but it must be tempered with truth. This, Mr. Bridgerton, is a performance.”

“You know my name,” he noted, smiling. “You have the advantage over me, Miss...?”

“Y/N,” she said, a hint of amusement in her tone. “And I find that knowing one’s audience is the first rule of any conversation.”

He inclined his head. “A lesson I’ll remember. Tell me, Miss Y/N, are you always this direct?”

Her lips curved into a subtle smile, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she turned back to the painting. “Do you sketch? You look at this piece as though you’re searching for something beyond the surface.”

Benedict blinked, surprised by her insight. “I do, though I’ve yet to create anything worth showing. You?”

“I paint,” she admitted, her voice softening. “But my work isn’t for the ton’s galleries. Some things are too personal to display.”

“Now you’ve made me curious,” he said, stepping closer. “What would it take to see one of your pieces?”

She tilted her head, her gaze teasing. “Persistence. But I should warn you—I am not easily impressed.”

Benedict smiled, already intrigued by the challenge. “Good. I prefer earning my victories.”

Before she could respond, Lady Danbury’s voice carried through the hall. “Ah, Benedict, I see you’ve met Miss Y/N. And what do you think of her opinions? Sharp as a rapier, aren’t they?”

Benedict glanced at Y/N, his expression warm. “Quite sharp, indeed. But rapier wit is vastly preferable to dull pleasantries.”

Lady Danbury chuckled. “I agree. Well, don’t let me interrupt. Though, Y/N, your brother Charles is looking for you. Something about the carriage.”

At the mention of her brother, Y/N’s composure shifted slightly. “Thank you, Lady Danbury. I’ll find him shortly.”

As Lady Danbury swept away, Benedict offered Y/N a small bow. “Will you grant me the honor of a dance before you leave?”

“Perhaps,” she replied, her eyes glinting with amusement. “If you’re persistent enough.”

Before Benedict could craft a suitably clever reply, a deep voice broke through the moment. “Y/N, it’s getting late.”

Both turned to see a tall man striding toward them, his posture commanding yet measured. He was dressed impeccably, the weight of responsibility apparent in his expression. His resemblance to Y/N—sharp features and the same striking eyes—was unmistakable.

Charles stopped beside them and inclined his head politely toward Benedict before addressing his sister. “The hour grows late, and I believe Lady Danbury is beginning to hint that the soirée is winding down.”

Y/N offered her brother a cool yet affectionate look. “You always did have an impeccable sense of timing, Charles.”

Benedict, recovering quickly, stepped forward with a polite bow. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. Benedict Bridgerton.”

Charles’s gaze sharpened slightly at the name before he returned the bow with measured precision. “Charles Y/L/N, Earl of Whitestone.”

Benedict’s eyebrows lifted in recognition, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Whitestone? I believe my brother, Anthony, has spoken of you. He mentioned you were recently elevated to the title.”

Charles gave a brief nod, his tone guarded but civil. “Anthony and I have known each other for some years. He’s a good man, and an excellent Viscount.”

“As I’m certain you’re an excellent Earl,” Benedict replied smoothly, sensing the protective edge to Charles’s demeanor.

The corner of Charles’s mouth twitched upward, though he remained composed. “I do what I can, though the title comes with its share of burdens. And you, Mr. Bridgerton, seem to have a knack for engaging my sister in conversation.”

Benedict chuckled lightly, inclining his head toward Y/N. “Your sister is an extraordinary conversationalist, my lord. I find myself quite fortunate to have made her acquaintance tonight.”

Charles’s gaze flicked to Y/N, who appeared unruffled by the exchange but wore a faint smile of amusement. “Fortunate, indeed,” Charles said evenly. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I believe it’s time to depart. Y/N?”

Y/N turned back to Benedict, her expression unreadable but her tone cordial. “Thank you for the discussion, Mr. Bridgerton. Perhaps we’ll meet again, should the occasion allow.”

Benedict bowed, his tone warm. “I certainly hope so, Miss Y/N.”

As Charles and Y/N walked toward their waiting carriage, Benedict watched them leave, his thoughts lingering on the sharp wit and quiet allure of Y/N.

Charles, walking slightly ahead of his sister, cast a glance back toward Benedict, then murmured to her, “He seems taken with you.”

Y/N’s lips curved faintly as she replied, “Let him be. I’m hardly an easy conquest.”

Charles smirked faintly, his tone fond but serious. “Good. Just remember, Y/N, you’re worth far more than simple flattery and fleeting interest.”

Y/N nodded, her gaze forward but her thoughts clearly elsewhere.

The clatter of carriage wheels echoed faintly as Charles and Y/N made their way back to their townhouse. The dim glow of gas lamps illuminated the streets, casting fleeting shadows across Charles’s pensive expression.

“You like him,” Charles remarked, breaking the companionable silence. His voice was even, but his words were laced with a quiet observation.

Y/N glanced at her brother, her expression unreadable. “He’s intriguing. Sharp-witted. But liking someone, Charles, is a luxury I can ill afford.”

Charles leaned back in his seat, watching her carefully. “Luxury or not, you seemed more yourself tonight than I’ve seen in months. There’s no harm in entertaining the idea—provided you remain cautious.”

Y/N’s gaze softened at her brother’s concern. “I appreciate your vigilance, my dear Earl of Whitestone. But let’s not rush to paint him as either hero or villain. Men of his world are not often held to the same scrutiny as women of ours.”

“True,” Charles admitted, tilting his head slightly. “But Anthony Bridgerton isn’t one to speak highly of a man without reason. If his brother is half as principled, I’d consider him worth the risk.”

Y/N’s lips twitched at his words. “Risk, indeed. But enough about Mr. Bridgerton. We’ve our own affairs to manage, and I’m certain our tenants won’t care for my musings about art or charm.”

Charles nodded, though he noted the faint pink flush that crept up her neck as she turned toward the window.

As the Whitestone carriage disappeared into the darkness, Benedict stood at the edge of the Danbury estate, his gaze lingering on the path where Y/N had vanished. The warmth of the evening had cooled, but he hardly noticed the chill. His mind replayed their conversation—the sharp wit in her words, the spark in her eyes when she spoke of art, and the measured grace with which she had danced around his charm.

“Y/N,” he murmured softly, as if testing the sound of her name. It felt as striking as the woman herself, an enigma he couldn’t easily solve.

Lady Danbury’s sharp voice startled him from his reverie. “Well, Mr. Bridgerton, if you plan to stand out there all night, you might as well help me escort the remaining stragglers to their carriages.”

Benedict turned, an easy smile masking his contemplative mood. “I was merely enjoying the view, Lady Danbury. Your soiree is, as always, a triumph.”

Her keen eyes narrowed with amusement. “And yet your gaze was fixed on the road, not my ballroom. That young lady certainly left an impression.”

Benedict didn’t deny it. “She’s remarkable,” he admitted, more to himself than to Lady Danbury.

“Be careful with that one,” the older woman warned, though her tone was fond. “She has depth. And depth demands substance in return.”

Benedict inclined his head, her words sinking in. As much as he relished the challenge, he realized he wanted more than a fleeting encounter.

The ride home was a quiet one. Benedict sat in the carriage, the sounds of horses’ hooves a steady rhythm that gave his thoughts space to wander.

He’d encountered many women in his time—clever debutantes, bold widows, and those who wore charm like armor. But Y/N was different. There was a quiet power in her deflections, a vulnerability hidden behind her sharp observations.

His mind lingered on her smile, fleeting yet warm, and the way her brother, Charles, had watched over her like a hawk. Benedict respected that protectiveness—it spoke of loyalty, of family bonds he deeply valued.

When he finally reached the familiar halls of his family home, the house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of old wood and the soft rustle of wind through the trees outside. He retired to his room, but sleep eluded him.

Instead, he sketched—rough outlines of Y/N’s features, her poised stance, the energy in her eyes as she critiqued the painting at Lady Danbury’s. Each stroke of charcoal carried with it an urgency, an attempt to capture the essence of someone who refused to be defined.

By the time dawn’s light began to filter through his window, Benedict set the sketch aside, his resolve clear.

“I’ll see her again,” he murmured, more determined than he’d been in years.

The following morning, the Bridgerton family gathered around the long dining table, sunlight streaming through the tall windows. Despite the sumptuous spread of fruit, fresh-baked pastries, and piping hot tea, all eyes were on Benedict.

“Who was she?” Eloise asked bluntly, buttering her toast with unnecessary vigor. “Lady Whistledown was positively tantalized.”

Benedict sighed, taking a deliberate sip of tea. “Good morning to you too, Eloise.”

“Don’t dodge the question,” Daphne chimed in with a knowing smile. “It’s not every day Lady Whistledown dedicates an entire paragraph to your exploits.”

Anthony leaned back in his chair, an eyebrow raised. “Y/N Y/L/N, wasn’t it? I believe her brother, Charles, is the new Earl of Whitestone. Solid reputation, though he keeps to himself since inheriting the title.”

Benedict nodded, setting down his cup. “The very same. I had the pleasure of speaking with her—she’s sharp, insightful, and refreshingly candid.”

“And beautiful?” Colin teased, his grin wide.

“Extremely,” Benedict replied without hesitation, earning a round of laughter.

Anthony’s amusement faded slightly as he regarded his brother with a calculating look. “Charles is an old acquaintance of mine. We crossed paths during the early years of our titles. A good man, but fiercely protective of his family. Tread carefully, Benedict.”

“Always,” Benedict said, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of determination.

Y/N sat cross-legged on the grass of Whitestone’s modest garden, a sketchpad balanced on her lap. The cool breeze carried with it the faint scent of lavender from the nearby hedgerows, mingling with the crisp aroma of her graphite pencils. The gardens were her sanctuary—a reprieve from society’s endless noise and expectations. Today, her focus was on a half-finished drawing of a willow tree bending gracefully over the garden pond. Yet, as much as she tried to focus, her thoughts drifted back to Benedict Bridgerton.

She had replayed their exchanges from Lady Danbury’s soiree countless times in her mind. His words had been genuine, his curiosity sincere. Yet it was his gaze that lingered in her memory—the way his eyes softened when he listened to her critiques of the art, as though he truly saw her and not just another face in the crowd. Y/N frowned slightly, annoyed at her own vulnerability. He’s intriguing, certainly, but so are countless men who wander into my path. Why should this one matter more?

Her pencil faltered as the sharp rap of a knock echoed from the front of the house. She stilled, curiosity piqued. Guests were rare at Whitestone, and Charles had already mentioned he expected no visitors today. She heard the muffled creak of the door opening and the low rumble of her brother’s voice, but the words were indistinct. Setting her sketchpad aside, Y/N rose and dusted her hands off on her skirts, wandering closer to the house with light steps.

Inside the parlor, Charles extended a firm handshake to Anthony Bridgerton. The Earl of Whitestone and the Viscount Bridgerton cut striking figures in the modest room, both exuding a commanding presence, though Anthony’s was tempered by a composed air of diplomacy.

“Viscount Bridgerton,” Charles greeted, stepping back to motion him inside. “This is an unexpected visit.”

“I thought it past time we caught up,” Anthony replied with a faint smile, his eyes sweeping the room briefly before settling back on Charles. “Though I must confess, my errand isn’t entirely social.”

Charles raised an eyebrow as he led Anthony toward the parlor’s armchairs. “I assume this has something to do with your family’s estates bordering mine?”

“In part.” Anthony seated himself with practiced ease, but there was a guardedness to his tone that Charles didn’t miss. “The other part involves my brother, Benedict.”

Charles stilled briefly, his expression giving nothing away. “Ah, your brother,” he said smoothly, taking his own seat. “I must admit, he did make an impression at Lady Danbury’s soiree.”

Anthony’s lips quirked in a wry smile. “So I’ve heard. I trust my brother behaved himself?”

Charles smirked faintly, folding his hands over his knee. “Mr. Bridgerton was... eager to engage my sister in conversation. Though I’m not sure she was as willing to reciprocate.”

Anthony chuckled, but his tone shifted, his words laced with sincerity. “Benedict speaks highly of your sister. It’s rare for him to show such genuine interest, Charles. He’s not one to court frivolities.”

Charles leaned back, his gaze sharpening. “You understand, Anthony, that Y/N has had her fair share of shallow suitors. She’s cautious, and rightly so. My priority is ensuring her happiness and protecting her from anyone who sees her as a fleeting amusement.”

“Benedict doesn’t play such games,” Anthony replied, meeting Charles’s gaze head-on. “In truth, I’ve never seen him take such an interest in anyone. Your sister seems to have stirred something in him—though, knowing Y/N from your stories, I suspect she hasn’t made it easy for him.”

Charles allowed himself a faint chuckle. “No, she certainly hasn’t. Y/N is not one to be charmed easily. But it’s clear your brother is determined, which could either work in his favor or cause him considerable frustration.”

Anthony inclined his head, his expression softening. “Benedict values substance, as I’m sure Y/N does. They may both surprise you.”

Charles studied him in silence for a moment before offering a measured nod. “We’ll see. For now, I’ll judge him by his actions, not his words.”

Y/N lingered just beyond the doorway, her heart racing at the snippets of conversation she managed to overhear. Charles’s voice, steady and firm, carried faintly through the air. He’s defending me, she realized, a pang of gratitude swelling in her chest. Her brother’s protectiveness had always been her shield against the pressures of society. Yet, there was another voice—smooth and commanding.

The Viscount Bridgerton.

She had never met Anthony before, but his reputation preceded him. To hear him speak so highly of his brother was... surprising. Benedict’s charm had seemed effortless, but perhaps it ran deeper than she had assumed.

Careful not to draw attention, Y/N eased closer to the edge of the doorway, curiosity getting the better of her.

Anthony’s final remark, “They may both surprise you,” was met with a soft clearing of a throat. Both men turned to see Y/N stepping into the room, her expression poised but her gaze quietly assessing.

“Forgive me for interrupting,” she said with a faint smile, addressing Anthony. “You must be Viscount Bridgerton. I apologize for not greeting you sooner.”

Anthony rose immediately, his movements fluid and respectful. “Miss Y/N,” he greeted, his tone warm. “The pleasure is mine. I was just remarking to your brother on your keen sense of discernment. It seems Benedict wasn’t exaggerating.”

Y/N tilted her head slightly, her smile deepening. “He spoke of me?”

Anthony’s smile mirrored hers, though he chose his words carefully. “Indeed. Rarely have I seen my brother so animated in recounting a conversation.”

Her gaze flicked briefly to Charles, whose stern expression had softened, before settling back on Anthony. “That’s high praise coming from you, my lord,” she said lightly, though her eyes gleamed with amusement. “Perhaps I should be flattered—or cautious.”

Anthony chuckled, gesturing toward the chair opposite. “Flattery or caution—either is warranted. But if I may, Miss Y/N, Benedict is many things, but insincere is not one of them.”

Y/N seated herself gracefully, her expression thoughtful. “Then it would seem your brother and I have much in common,” she replied smoothly, though her mind raced. What exactly has Benedict told him?

As Anthony and Y/N exchanged polite conversation, Charles observed his sister closely. Her tone was cordial, her posture poised, but he knew her well enough to detect the subtle sharpness in her gaze—a warning to anyone attempting to pry too deeply. She wasn’t rattled by Anthony’s words, but she was undoubtedly calculating her next move.

Anthony, for his part, seemed at ease. His diplomacy was well-honed, his remarks layered with subtle reassurances. Yet Charles couldn’t help but feel the quiet tension in the room. Anthony was here not simply to visit a friend, but to ensure Benedict’s intentions were made clear—or perhaps to defend them.

“I find it intriguing,” Y/N said, interrupting Charles’s thoughts, “that you’ve taken the trouble to visit us, my lord, when your brother has already made his interest known. Surely, you trust his judgment?”

Anthony’s brow arched slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I do, Miss Y/N, though it would be remiss of me not to learn more about the woman who has managed to hold my brother’s attention.”

“And have you drawn your conclusions already?” she asked, tilting her head.

Anthony leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady but not intrusive. “Not entirely. But I do know this: my brother is a man of passions—art, creation, and the search for something meaningful. He finds those qualities rare. I suspect he believes he’s found them in you.”

Y/N’s composure didn’t falter, though her chest tightened slightly at his words. Her response was deliberate, each word measured. “An interesting theory, my lord. I wonder what he might say if he were here to speak for himself.”

As the conversation unfolded at Whitestone, Benedict Bridgerton was oblivious to his brother’s bold intervention. He sat alone in the Bridgerton family’s drawing room, a half-finished sketch resting on the desk before him. It was an abstract piece—a hazy rendition of the way the light had played across Y/N’s face as she’d described the painting at Lady Danbury’s soiree.

Frustrated, he set the pencil down and ran a hand through his hair. He hadn’t seen her since the garden farewell days ago, and the memory of her enigmatic smile lingered like a half-finished melody. Every word she had spoken felt deliberate, each glance calculated. Yet, for all her guardedness, he had glimpsed something more—an intensity that matched his own.

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the sketch with a mix of irritation and admiration. What is it about her that has me so utterly undone?

The door creaked open, and Colin poked his head inside, his ever-mischievous grin firmly in place. “Still brooding over Lady Y/N?”

Benedict scowled, though there was no real malice behind it. “I’m not brooding.”

Colin stepped inside, uninvited, and plucked the sketch off the desk. “Is that so? Because this,” he said, waving the paper, “tells a rather different story. Don’t tell me you’re losing sleep over one of Anthony’s sermons.”

Benedict frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Colin flopped onto the settee, clearly enjoying himself. “Anthony’s gone to Whitestone, hasn’t he? To visit Y/N and her brother. He practically ordered Newton to saddle the horse this morning.”

Benedict shot to his feet, his voice incredulous. “Anthony went to Whitestone?”

Colin’s smile widened. “Oh, yes. Didn’t he tell you? I’d wager he’s there now, making some long-winded speech about Bridgerton honor and the seriousness of your intentions.”

Benedict’s fists clenched, though it was more out of frustration than anger. “Of course he would meddle,” he muttered, pacing the room. “I don’t need him playing matchmaker.”

“Perhaps not,” Colin replied, his tone light. “But I suspect you’ll thank him in the end. Anthony may be insufferable, but he has a way of clearing obstacles—even those you’re too stubborn to see.”

Benedict ignored him, walking around in the room furiously waiting for his brother to come home. He did not need Anthony meddling with his business when even he didn't have the chance to visit you or buy you flowers. He prayed that his brother didn't scare or intimidate Y/N in any shape or form.

Back at Whitestone, Y/N’s mind churned as Anthony’s words settled. The sincerity behind them was disarming, but it also raised questions she wasn’t ready to answer.

She glanced at Charles, who was watching the exchange with his usual stoicism. Her brother was protective, and she valued his judgment, but she also resented feeling like a piece on a chessboard. Why should my life’s direction hinge on the machinations of two Bridgertons?

Y/N straightened, her voice breaking the charged silence. “You speak highly of your brother, my lord. But I can’t help but wonder if his interest is shared equally by the rest of your family. Surely a marriage, that you keep mentioning I might add, between a Bridgerton and an earl’s sister comes with certain expectations.”

Anthony’s expression didn’t falter, though his gaze turned contemplative. “You’re right, Miss Y/N. Family expectations can be... formidable. But we Bridgertons tend to weigh them against the matters of the heart. My brother is pursuing you not for duty, but for something far greater. That is why I came—to assure you that his pursuit is no fleeting fancy.”

Her breath caught for the briefest moment before she composed herself. “And yet you speak for him instead of letting him speak for himself. Tell me, viscount Bridgerton, is it a tradition of your family that the elder brother visit first before the man himself came here to court me or are you just more excited than Benedict?"

Anthony’s smile turned faintly amused. “Perhaps. But as the head of the family, it is not a tradition, but my duty to do so."

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows through the Bridgerton drawing room, where Violet sipped her tea, listening to Eloise debate some pamphlet on societal reform. Colin, seated nearby, was making a show of writing letters while sneakily trying to eavesdrop.

Suddenly, the front door opened with a sharp creak, followed by the heavy sound of deliberate footfalls. The atmosphere in the house shifted.

“Anthony,” Violet remarked, looking up from her teacup as her eldest son entered. His expression was stony, his movements clipped.

“Anthony, you look—”

Anthony!" Benedict’s voice roared through the house, heavy with fury.

"Benedict," Anthony greeted cautiously, straightening. "What’s the meaning of this outburst?"

"The meaning?" Benedict spat, his voice echoing through the room. "You went to the Whitestone estate without even telling me. You had no right!"

Violet, startled by the commotion, stood. "What’s going on here?"

"Ask your eldest son," Benedict said bitterly. "Apparently, he’s taken it upon himself to play matchmaker or, worse, guardian of my personal affairs."

Anthony’s jaw tightened, though he remained outwardly calm. "Benedict, I was only acting in your best—"

"No!" Benedict interrupted, his voice rising. "You were acting in your best interest, Anthony. Or, at the very least, what you think is best. You didn’t consult me, didn’t even think to ask what I wanted!"

By now, the household was gathering in the hallway, drawn by the shouting. Eloise whispered to Colin, "This is far better than the last novel I read."

Anthony’s patience began to fray as he stood taller, his tone hardening. "I went because I thought you might care for her, Benedict! And if you do, it’s only natural to ensure the family is suitable."

"How dare you presume to know what I care for!" Benedict snapped. "And what of her? Did you think she’d appreciate you barging in, uninvited, to assess her worth like livestock? I don’t even know if I care for her, but now I may never have the chance to decide for myself because of you!"

Anthony’s face fell briefly into guilt before he rallied. "I wasn’t trying to ruin anything. I was trying to protect you—"

"Protect me from what, Anthony? From a young woman with a talent for art and a brother navigating his new title? Or perhaps from the whispers you always seem so terrified of?"

"You don’t understand," Anthony said sharply. "These things matter. Reputation matters. If you pursue her—"

"Stop!" Benedict’s voice was loud enough to make the rest of the family wince. "You don’t get to make this about reputation or family honor. You didn’t even think to come to me first, and for that alone, you’ve overstepped!"

Violet interjected, her voice firm. "Both of you, enough. This shouting is unbecoming."

"Unbecoming?" Benedict scoffed, his anger undiminished. "What’s truly unbecoming is my brother meddling in affairs that are none of his business!"

Anthony took a deep breath, his voice dropping but still heated. "I went because I thought it was for the best, Benedict. If I was wrong, then I apologize. But don’t act as if I’ve committed some great crime for trying to protect my family."

Benedict shook his head, his jaw tightening. "If you wanted to protect me, Anthony, you should have come to me first. You should have trusted me to handle my own life."

Without waiting for a response, Benedict turned and stormed out of the room, the sound of the door slamming behind him reverberating through the house.

Benedict rode hard, the crisp autumn air stinging his face as he left Mayfair behind. The rhythmic pounding of his horse's hooves against the packed dirt offered little solace, the anger from his fight with Anthony still churning in his chest. The thought of his brother making decisions about his life—his relationships—without so much as a conversation left him fuming.

The horse slowed as they approached Hyde Park. Benedict hadn’t meant to end up here, but the vastness of the greenery and the relative quiet of the park seemed preferable to the confinement of Bridgerton House. He dismounted near a cluster of trees, tying his horse to a low branch.

Wandering through the park, Benedict eventually spotted a familiar figure seated beneath a sprawling oak tree. Y/N sat cross-legged on the grass, a sketchbook balanced on her knee, her brow furrowed in concentration as her hand moved deftly across the page. She was so absorbed in her work that she didn’t notice his approach.

For a moment, Benedict simply observed her. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on her face. There was a peacefulness about her that pulled at something deep within him, a stark contrast to the chaos of the morning.

He cleared his throat softly.

Y/N jumped, her pencil jerking across the page. Her head snapped up, her eyes wide before recognition dawned. “Mr. Bridgerton!” she exclaimed, a hand flying to her chest. “You startled me.”

“I apologize,” Benedict said quickly, stepping closer. “Startling you was not my intention. I... Well, I didn’t expect to find anyone here, let alone you.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, though there was a trace of humor in her gaze. “Hyde Park isn’t precisely secluded, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Touché,” Benedict conceded with a small smile. “Still, I seem to have a habit of interrupting you.” He gestured to the sketchbook in her lap. “May I?”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers tightening around the edges of the paper. Then, with a resigned sigh, she handed it over. “It’s not finished,” she said quickly.

Benedict took the sketchbook, his eyes scanning the page. It was a study of a fountain in the park, the water captured mid-flow, the surrounding trees sketched with delicate precision. “This is remarkable,” he said sincerely. “The way you’ve captured the movement of the water—it feels alive.”

Y/N flushed at the compliment, though she tried to mask it with a nonchalant shrug. “It’s nothing special. Just practice.”

“Your modesty does you no justice,” Benedict said, handing the sketchbook back to her. “This is more than practice. It’s art.”

Her lips quirked into a small smile, but she said nothing, her eyes dropping to the sketch.

They sat in silence for a moment before Benedict spoke again. “I owe you an apology, Miss Y/N.”

“For startling me?” she teased, though her tone was light.

“For that and...for my brother’s intrusion at your home earlier today,” he said, his voice more serious now.

Y/N looked up sharply, her expression unreadable. “You knew?”

“I only found out after the fact,” Benedict admitted, frustration seeping into his tone. “Believe me, if I had known what Anthony was planning, I would have stopped him.”

Y/N studied him for a moment, then nodded. “I won’t pretend it wasn’t unsettling to have the Viscount Bridgerton show up unannounced, but your brother was respectful.”

“That doesn’t excuse him,” Benedict said firmly. “He had no right to involve himself. Whatever this is,” he gestured between them, “it’s our business, not his.”

A flicker of something passed through Y/N’s eyes—surprise, perhaps, or even approval—but it was gone before Benedict could decipher it.

“Your brother’s actions are understandable, though,” she said finally. “Family often feels entitled to protect us, even when we don’t need their protection.”

“‘Entitled’ is the word,” Benedict muttered, raking a hand through his hair.

Y/N tilted her head, a trace of amusement creeping into her expression. “You sound angry.”

“I am angry,” Benedict admitted, though his voice softened as he continued. “Not just because Anthony went behind my back, but because I... I don’t want anyone to think I need someone else to make my decisions for me. Least of all you.”

Her brows lifted at his candor, and a small smile played on her lips. “I think I can decide what to think of you, Mr. Bridgerton, regardless of your brother’s interference.”

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink around them. There was an openness in Y/N’s gaze that felt like an invitation, though to what, Benedict wasn’t entirely sure.

“May I sit?” he asked, breaking the silence.

Y/N gestured to the patch of grass beside her. “Be my guest.”

Benedict settled himself beside her, leaning back against the tree trunk. The tension that had coiled in his chest all day seemed to ease in her presence.

“Do you often come here to draw?” he asked after a moment.

“Whenever I can,” Y/N said, glancing at the fountain in the distance. “It’s one of the few places in London that feels...free.”

“I can see the appeal,” Benedict said. “There’s a tranquility here. A sense of space.”

“And yet you seem restless,” Y/N observed, her eyes studying him intently.

Benedict chuckled, though there was little humor in it. “I suppose I am. My family has a way of...complicating things.”

“Families tend to do that,” Y/N said lightly.

He turned to look at her, a question forming on his lips, but he hesitated. “Do you...” he began, then stopped.

“Do I what?” she prompted.

“Do you find it hard?” he asked finally. “Being the person others look to? Shouldering the weight of their expectations?”

Y/N’s gaze grew distant, her fingers idly tracing the edge of her sketchbook. “I think we all bear expectations, whether we like it or not. The trick is deciding which ones matter and which ones don’t.”

Benedict nodded, her words striking a chord. “And have you decided?”

Her lips curved into a small, enigmatic smile. “I’m still working on it.”

They fell into a companionable silence, the only sounds the rustling of leaves and the faint splash of the fountain. For the first time that day, Benedict felt a sense of calm.

Perhaps, he thought, this wasn’t such a terrible day after all.

( part 2 anyone?)

#fluff #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x fem!reader #benedict x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton season 4 #benedict bridgerton fic

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srgntjamesbuckybarnes · 2 years ago

Text

The List (1)

Summary: When a hit list spreads around New York, Bucky’s ex-wife is the only one with any information.

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Mafia Bucky Barnes x Ex-Wife Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: Not Beta’d. I was going to conclude this with an actual ending, but it was getting long so I’ll let the readers decide how it ends. If enough people are interested, I might do a part 2. Comment if you want a part 2.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1

Rumors spread through the underground of New York like the plague. Four murders of New York's most elite in the past 72 hours. Floating around the city was a list of names, a hit list for anyone involved with the mafia. Bucky was no stranger to a threat on his life. Being a mob boss, he constantly walked a thin line, a trapeze artist always one slip away from falling into the hands of death. Bucky had the resources and power to not be taken out so easily. If his name was on the list, he’d be toward the end, but no one knew home long the list was or who was on it. His team had spent the past 3 days searching the city for any information on the list. He had to know who was on it.

“Mr. Barnes, sir,” Peter Parker stammered, catching his breath in the doorway. Peter was a prospect, a good kid with a good head on his shoulders. Bucky couldn't understand why such a gifted kid was so eager to join the mob. Regardless, Bucky couldn’t be happier to have such potential, but the kid picked the wrong time to join them. “We have a lead.”

Bucky’s head snapped up from his desk. He had been engrossed in his own research on his laptop that he had forgotten about his men’s quest. Peter’s spine went rigid under the mob boss’s intense stare. He had yet to get used to it. Peter was certain that was why Bucky’s right-hand man, Steve Rogers, had sent him to retrieve Bucky. Well, that or it was part of Sam Wilson’s attempt at a joke to haze the new guy. Either way, Peter had been a fan of Steve growing up. Steve usually was the face while Bucky worked in the shadows, which only made Bucky more intimidating to Peter. He respected Steve though which is why he found Bucky without hesitation.

“Follow me, sir.”

Standing abruptly, the chair Bucky had been sitting in crashed into the wall behind him with a loud bang. He smoothed his rough palms down the front of his pristine white shirt before straightening his black suit jacket. Without a word, he extended his hand behind Peter, encouraging him to lead the way.

Peter anxiously peered over his shoulder the entire way down the hall. He thought he might have been walking too fast, but Bucky’s pace never faltered. Bucky was hot on his heels, always one step behind him. Stopping unexpectedly outside of the boardroom, Bucky hissed nearly crashing into the teen. Before Bucky could reprimand him, Peter explained, “Before we go inside, Steve told me to give you a message.” Bucky’s shoulders relaxed a bit leaving Peter relieved his boss wasn’t going to chew him out. Still, his own dress shirt began to cling to him with the amount of sweat he was producing. Bucky may have relaxed a bit, but his posture was always disciplined, predatory, and intimidating.

“Spill it out,” Bucky huffed, his hands resting in the pockets of his slacks.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Peter nodded, “Right, um- He said don’t do anything stupid and that we need her.”

The jaw of the boss twitched before he stormed past a confused Peter. His hands pressed into each of the double doors using his full force to slam the doors wide open. All eyes snapped to Bucky as he strode into the room, confidence and determination oozing off of him. Peter ushered in behind him, awkwardly failing to close the doors several times before succeeding. A string of apologies escaped his lips as he stepped further into the room. The serious look Steve shot Peter had him clearing his throat and adjusting his dress coat.

Sam and Steve stood side by side on one end of the room, their arms crossed. They were cautious, guarded rightfully so. Any one of their lives could be on the line. For all they knew, everyone in the room was on the hit list. Spying the woman sitting at the middle of the conference table, Bucky stalked across from her. With his eyes trained on the floor, he dragged the chair away from the table but made no move to sit down as he stepped up to the table.

When his eyes met hers, he puffed out his chest. His arms remained at his sides, his hands burrowing in his pockets. Without so much as a greeting, Bucky began his interrogation, “Who created the hit list.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, a frown etched on her crimson-painted lips. “Right down to business, huh Buck?” A smirk replaced her frown. “I should’ve known, you never were one for much foreplay.”

Bucky pressed his tongue to his cheek. He had expected this, her teasing. It was always a dance between them, one he wanted to avoid by cutting to the chase. She always knew how to rile him up, in more ways than one.

“Princess-”

‘No,” she stopped him with her hand raised, “you don’t get to call me that anymore.”

Bucky snorted, leaning forward, “Isn’t that what you are now?”

“Who is she?” Peter attempted to whisper to Steve, but everyone heard him.

Taking pity on the clueless teen, Sam answered, “She’s Bucky’s ex-wife, Y/N.”

Ignoring the other men, Y/N flashed her diamond engagement ring at Bucky. The light reflected off of the ring making it impossible to miss even from where Steve, Sam, and Peter had been standing.

“That title is pending, followed by queen,” she sassed.

It started out as a term of endearment. Y/N always had a taste for the finer things in life, Bucky’s lifestyle satisfied that craving. He enjoyed spoiling his princess, but that was all she would be. A princess, someone no one would take seriously. It had been an ironic twist of fate that she had met an actual prince after her divorce from Bucky.

Examining the rock on her finger, her signature red nail had been replaced by a nude shade. She was no longer accepting his blood money; she had a good man and clean money now. His eyes traveled back to her face, zeroing in on her red-painted lip. Her hands may be clean now, but her lips were still tainted. The secrets she could talk about his business alone could ruin him which reminded him of why she was here in the first place.

“Who created the hit list, Y/N,” he tried once again to control the conversation.

Pursing her lips, she let him.

“I don’t know,” her gaze dropped to the table, “but I know who has it.”

Finally getting somewhere, Bucky reached back pulling the chair behind him. Once he was seated, he snapped his fingers. Not a moment later, a pen and paper were placed in front of him.

“Give me a name,” Bucky demanded, pen in hand.

Y/N raised her head, the man twirled a pen between his fingers tempting her to sign a deal with the devil. Shaking the image from her head she placed her hand over his, ceasing his movements.

“It’s not that easy. He won't meet with just anyone.”

“He?” Steve asked.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Bucky isn’t just anyone,” Sam called out.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “He may very well be suspect number one. It would be bad for anyone to meet with Bucky alone.” Feeling Bucky’s hand turn beneath her own she went to pull away, but he grabbed her hand.

“What about a future queen?”

Eyeing him beneath her lashes, Y/N pulled her hand back to her chest. Noticing the hesitant look on her face, Bucky leaned back in his chair. He wasn’t a fool to think she was here willingly. She wanted something; she needed something.

Crossing his arms across his chest, Bucky asked, “What do you want?”

Thumbing the ring on her finger, she contemplated lying. She didn’t want to need Bucky, but she did. One look at Bucky and she knew he would see through any lie she would come up with, so she told the truth, “I need protection.” Suddenly she felt exposed with everyone's eyes on her. “If my name is on the list,” her voice shook. She wasn’t Bucky’s dirty little secret. People knew she was his wife, well ex-wife. She had ties to the mob and if her name was on the list or if her fiancé found out, the engagement would be called off.

After a long pause, Bucky spoke, “Get me access to the list and let me worry about the rest.”

Relief flooded Y/N. He could have turned her away. He could have blackmailed the information out of her, but he didn’t. Bucky was a rough man, but he was also kind. She had seen it first-hand for many years. Guilt ate away at her for her earlier actions. He knew she had been engaged but she didn’t need to rub it in his face. She wanted to hurt him but only because he had hurt her. A small part of her hoped he would protect her not because he was kind but because he still loved her.

Y/N was able to request a meeting with the man not even 24 hours later. His assistant had sent her an invitation, but it wasn’t for what she had been expecting. Instead, the man had invited her to a gala. He was a businessman after all, and her appearance would be good for business. At a time when she should be laying low, she was about to attend a high-press event.

It wasn’t long after Bucky was notified that he insisted he escort her. Y/N protested but he had argued that he couldn’t protect her if she was dead. That had convinced her, on one condition, they arrive separately. She was still engaged.

The event was beautiful but high glass windows had Y/N on edge. Anyone could see her. She tried to distract herself by searching for the host. There were so many bodies and no sign of the man who had invited her. In the middle of her search, a hand circled her wrist tugging her in the opposite direction. Y/N began clawing at the man’s wrist, an attempt to pry him off. When he stopped and spun around, she crashed into his chest. With her face in his chest, the unmistakable scent of expensive cologne hit her. She shoved his chest putting enough distance between the two.

“Bucky,” Y/N hissed, “you’re supposed to be laying low.”

Surveying the crowd, Bucky muttered, “I am. It’s you who is running all over the damn place.”

Y/N shook her head glaring at him. Not only did he smell good, but he looked good too. He had shaved since she had last seen him. He had traded in his white dress shirt for a black one, forgoing a bow or tie. The top button of his shirt was open, relieving his collarbone. Instead of drooling over her ex-husband she continued to glare at him. It was easier to hate him than to pine over him.

“If someone takes pictures of us together and my fiancé finds out-”

His cerulean eyes shot down to meet her eyes, “Where is he anyway? Shouldn’t you be asking him for protection? Surely, he has the resources.”

Y/N froze, her hands clutching the sides of her silk gown. “He doesn’t know,” she mumbled, then her voice grew. “He doesn’t know about the list, my past, or about you.” Bucky’s eyes softened. He had his doubts before, but he was certain now that she wasn’t happy. He wanted to gloat, to rub it in her fiancé’s face. He knew Y/N better than her fiancé did, and even better, she wanted to tell him. Bucky wanted to make a joke about how keeping secrets in a relationship was unhealthy, but he kept his mouth shut. Y/N sighed, running her hands down her dress to smooth out the wrinkles she had created. “He’s out of the country right now.” Her voice was barely above a whisper as she wrapped her arms around herself. His gaze dropped to the floor, but Bucky’s remained on her.

He recognized a lonely soul when he saw one because he was one himself. His lifestyle left few people he could trust. He hadn’t always been lonely though, and neither had she. Bucky’s hand twitched to reach out and hug her, but he didn’t think she would appreciate that with cameras around. He took in her appearance and couldn’t help the squeeze he felt in his heart.

“You look beautiful.”

A giggle escaped her lips, “Thanks, Buck. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He had meant to cheer her up, but her giggle was unexpected. He missed it, he missed her. Everyone he knew in the mob lifestyle had died in the mob. It was poetic in a live by the sword, die by the sword type of way. No one got out, but she did. With his status, he’d never get out and a selfish part of him wanted to pull her right back in.

“You got out, you got away from the life,” Bucky hummed, admiration in his voice, respect.

Y/N shook her head. “No, I just got away from you.”

It was his turn to laugh, “Now if that were true, I wouldn’t be standing here with you.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. I am standing here with you, not you are standing here with me. He meant it. Even if she was here because of him, he was here for her, to protect her. He put her first.

“You of all people know once you’re in there’s only one way out.”

That was it for Bucky. He wasn’t pulling her back in. She never left. They might have been divorced but they had both meant it on their wedding day when they said, “Till death do us part.” Bucky’s calloused hand cupped her jaw just below her ear, pausing. She didn’t push him away. With both hands, she cradled his jaw pulling his face down to meet hers. Their lips brushed one another, slowly at first, testing the waters. Then his other hand slid up the length of her neck, sliding back to tangle his fingers in her hair. It was a dance they were all too familiar with.

The flash of a camera penetrated Y/N’s eyes beneath her closed lids and it was like pouring a bucket of cold water over her. Quickly, she pulled away shoving Bucky’s chest when his lips tried to follow her. She was fucked, royally.

“Y/N?”

Wiping her smudged lipstick, she ignored Bucky’s lingering gaze before turning to face the new voice. A woman in a blue silk dress approached the pair.

“Virginia?” Y/N asked.

The woman waved her hand in the air. “Please, call me Pepper. We spoke on the phone yesterday. Mr. Stark is ready to meet with you. Follow me.”

Without looking back, Y/N followed Pepper through the crowd. She knew Bucky would be right behind her. She would deal with him later. Right now, she needed the names on the list. Upon their arrival, Pepper exited the room, pulling the door shut behind her. On the other side of a glass desk was one of the wealthiest men in the world, Tony Stark.

“Did I interrupt something?” Tony asked eyes darting between Y/N and Bucky. “I swear there wasn’t so much tension before you two walked in.”

Y/N sent him a tight-lipped smile holding up her left hand. “I’m engaged.”

Tony shrugged, “What you do is none of my business. Besides, something like this would be published on the front page.” Y/N’s stomach dropped. “You know what they say, all press is good press.”

“Says the man with a new woman every week,” Bucky grumbled.

Tony smiled. “Precisely, I would know.”

“Mr. Stark-”

Tony loosened the bow tie around his neck. “Call me Tony.”

“Tony,” Y/N corrected, “so you know anything about a list?”

With a raised eyebrow Tony laughed, “If it’s a list you want, I suggest you talk to Pepper. She handles all of that stuff.”

“Not just any kind of list,” Y/N took a step forward, her hands clasped in front of her, “a hit list.” From this distance, Y/N couldn't miss the way Tony’s eyes shifted to Bucky.

“Are you looking to assassinate anybody?”

Bucky held up his hands, “I’m just looking to protect the people I care about.”

Y/N stood still, watching the intense stare-off between the two.

Eventually, Tony sighed, “I don’t want to be in the middle of any of this.” He tapped a few keys on the computer on his desk before turning the screen. “You better get out of here before your fiancé sends someone.”

“What?” Y/N gasped, blindly clutching Bucky’s forearm beside her. Both of their names were written in green on the list. Beneath them were some of Bucky’s most trusted men; their names written in white.

Tony leaned back in his chair. “Green means active. You’re both next on the list and judging by the number of cameras here, someone probably already knows you’re here.”

“You knew,” Bucky growled.

Tony barely flinched. “Your names weren’t active until recently. Other people’s lives are on the line. I can’t get to everyone in time.”

“Wait, why would my fiancé send someone, he’s not even in the country,” Y/N asked, trying to wrap her head around everything.

Tony frowned. “Your fiance is the one who put the hit list out. What better alibi for your significant other’s death than being out of the country at her time of death.”

Y/N would have collapsed if it wasn’t for Bucky’s quick reflexes. He wrapped an arm around her waist, supporting her weight.

“Why?” Y/N whispered wide-eyed.

Bucky wanted to drag her out of the building toward safety but was there even a safe place? People already knew their location.

Tony shrugged. “The New York mobs aren't the only mobs out there. They're all over the country, they're in other countries. There are some real higher-ups in the mafia in other countries. The mafia controls everything, it's one of the most powerful positions. Take out other mobs and you can control more area, more power.”

Y/N felt sick. When she said you never get out once you get in, she hadn’t realized how deep she was in life now. Turning to Bucky, he was already on his phone typing. “Bucky, we need to go.”

“No. I text Steve, he’s rounding everyone up. They’ll be here soon.”

Tony’s eyes widened, his eyebrows reaching his forehead. “You can’t be serious. There are cameras everywhere. This will be plastered on every news station.”

Bucky shrugged, lifting the back of Y/N’s hand to his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, a quiet promise to protect her. “All press is good press.”

Next Chapter

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zepskies · 4 months ago

Text

Lost on You - Part 7

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: Consequences of the game.

Word Count: 5.2K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! More smut, show level debauchery, implied threesome, drug use, some light, some dark, violence and angst. (We're diving into some canon S3 content.)

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Part 7: Welcome to the Jungle

“Yes, well, Countess and I decided to end our relationship shortly after we wrapped on Red Thunder,” Ben explained to Jason Carver.

A little damage control could go a long way, coming from Soldier Boy himself. Vought News was one of the most convenient outlets for it.

“I know there’s been a lot of talk, but it was a mutual decision,” Ben said. “We still have a lot of love for each other. It just wasn’t working out.”

“Well, it sounds like it ended on good terms then,” said Jason.

“Yeah, so anyone who wants to run their mouth about it can come straight to me,” Ben said, with a stern set to his brows as he looked into the camera.

Jason uttered a slightly nervous laugh. “Well, I don’t think there’s anyone that brave.”

Ben shot him a smile. “Let’s hope not.”

“But are the rumors true? There seem to be some sparks between you and Sirena.”

Ben relaxed his posture a little, all while calm and controlled in his seat.

“She’s a special woman,” he admitted, with an incline of his head. “I can’t deny, we have…a connection.”

“Wow. You two have really hit it off since she joined the team,” Jason observed.

“Well, you know how it is, Jason,” Ben said. He glanced over and found you in the dark, standing next to a PA. You smiled.

“I’ve always been a man who knows what he wants,” he said.

“Shit,” Ben gritted out, his eyes rolling shut.

His gloved hand was fisted in your hair as you showed your gratefulness—on your knees, sucking him off from base to tip. He had to brace himself against the wall of one the makeup trailer. You two hadn’t even left the studio of Vought News when you took his hand and led him in here with a sensuous smile and an unspoken promise.

“You sure do have a talented fucking mouth,” he said with a smirk.

You hummed around his cock in response while your lips and tongue continued to work him over. The sensation nearly made his eyes cross. His blunt fingers bit into the wall, creating divots there and stirring up paint and plaster dust.

But if he could still talk, you weren’t satisfied. You squeezed his ass through his uniform pants, pulling him even closer. His hips rocked forward, forcing you to take him deeper until his cock hit the back of your throat.

You gagged for a moment, but you took a breath through your nose to steady yourself, blinking through the sting of involuntary tears in your eyes. Then you slid your lips back down him again. This time you relaxed the back of your throat and managed to take him fully without gagging as much.

His grip was getting tighter in your hair as muttered curses fell from his lips. You winced, but you kept going. You could feel him getting close; his thighs locked with strain, and his cock throbbed a warning in your mouth.

A cross between a grunt and a shout escaped him along with his release. You swallowed up as much of his spend as you could, but it still dribbled from the corners of your mouth and down your neck. You eventually released him with a soft pop, panting heavily.

He had to catch his breath as well while he leaned against the wall. His fingers untightened from your hair, petting your head instead.

“Good girl. Jesus,” he said shallowly.

You smiled and helped yourself off the floor. You grabbed a hand towel from one of the makeup artist stations and wiped your face and neck, ruined lipstick and all. Ben was trying to play off his recovery when you turned back to him.

His gaze on you was satisfied, and yet, still simmering with heat. He grabbed your arm and guided you against the wall. He caged you there with his hands molded to the curve of your waist. His touch was warm even through your leather suit.

“Countess may have some fireballs for me in my future,” you remarked.

Ben snorted dismissively. “Don’t worry about her.”

You weren’t so sure. She probably hadn’t done anything publicly to you yet because she was afraid of Ben. At this point, having him in your corner was protection—both for your career and for yourself.

You tipped your face up at him with a more playful smile.

“You really think I’m special?” you teased.

Ben chuckled through his nose. “You’re fucking something, all right.”

His tone was laced with amusement, but you saw the edge of it in his eyes, and you felt it with your abilities. You sensed the sincerity in him, tinged with…fondness, maybe? Even for you, it was hard to parse out.

It was definitely something beyond lust. Was he even capable of something more?

And is that what you want?

He gave you one last kiss, distracting you from that troubling thought. His lips moved slowly against yours for a change. It was affectionate, as he cupped your cheek.

“Come see me tonight,” he said when he finally pulled away. He gave you a slap on the ass to punctuate his request. Your hand wrapped around his forearm before he could turn away.

“How about a change of scenery? You could come to my place,” you suggested. He didn’t look enthused.

“Come on, I’ll even cook for you,” you added.

Ben raised a brow. “You cook?”

“Well, I’m no Martha Stewart, but I can whip up something good.”

Your smile was a tease as you slipped by him. You stopped in front of the mirror to fix your hair and lipstick. You briefly met Ben’s gaze in the mirror’s reflection. His brow was quirked. Was he waiting for you or something?

“What? I can’t go out looking like this,” you said.

At that, Ben smirked. He came up behind you and grasped your hips where you were bent over slightly. He pressed into your ass from behind, prompting you to straighten up and lean back against his chest. You couldn’t help a smile of amusement. Did this man ever get tired of fucking?

To your surprise though, he just pressed a tantalizing kiss into your neck. His eyes once again met yours in the mirror.

“I think you’re a fucking sight,” he said, picking a bit of his spend out of your hair.

You bit your lip out of embarrassment, but you couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped you.

It made him smile.

It was another facet of your evolving plan. Now that you had Ben in hand, you needed to keep his attention. A man like him appreciated certain values, and you had a feeling a woman who could cook was one of them.

It took some trial and error and a lot of praying, but you managed to make a decent roasted chicken. Ben seemed impressed enough. He ate half of the entire bird by himself, along with two helpings of mashed potatoes with gravy, even the parmesan broccoli. But as always, you two couldn’t seem to get through dessert.

Or rather, he took the cheesecake you bought into your bed and licked the accompanying raspberry syrup off your body. By the end, you were a sticky, sated mess (as usual). The bedsheets were a disaster, but you knew what you’d been getting into when you invited this man over. You had an extra set of clean sheets waiting in your dresser.

Ben smoked a large blunt afterwards, his eyes half-lidded as he drifted towards dozing off. When you noticed his eyes closing, a small alarm went off in your mind. You leaned over and stroked his arm.

“My bed doesn’t really compare with yours, does it?” you said. Which was true. His was even more plush and soft than yours. Not to mention, his bed was a California King. Yours was a modest queen-sized.

He shrugged and blew out smoke. “‘S not so bad.”

He dabbed his blunt in the ashtray and put it out for now. He raised his arms and folded them behind his head. He groaned and settled in against your pillows. You hid your wary frown.

Shit, maybe you’d miscalculated by inviting him over. You hadn’t thought he’d actually want to stay the night.

“Nooo, don’t fall asleep,” you playfully whined. You rolled over onto his chest and laid kisses along his jaw. “Why don’t we go take a walk or something? Go on a little adventure.”

Ben cracked an eye open at you, but he soon closed it again. “Nah, I’m good.”

“Come on, super-man. Don’t tell me you’re tired already,” you goaded.

At that, Ben’s eyes opened, and he frowned at you.

“You just stuffed me full of food like it’s Thanksgiving—”

“You’re the one who went for seconds. And thirds, mind you.”

“Gave me a fucking workout—”

“Which you started.”

“I may be the strongest man on Earth, but I still need to recharge every now and then,” he said gruffly. “Keep sassing me though. When I wake up, you might just find yourself bent over my knee.”

You tried not to smile. Sometimes his grumpiness was just too amusing. It didn’t seem like he was going to get out of your bed though.

Sighing in defeat, you got up and tugged at the ruined sheets he was resting on.

“Come on, at least let me change these.”

With an annoyed huff, Ben got up just long enough for you to remake the bed. He hunkered back down before you were done, making it harder for you to lay down the last one correctly, but you rolled your eyes and gave up, tossing the sheet half-made over his bare legs.

You went into the bathroom to clean yourself up. Hopefully by the time you came back, he’d be asleep. You’d make your way to the couch with a spare comforter and sleep there.

It might’ve seemed strange, but you had never actually slept with him in the same bed. It wasn’t personal. You’d made it a habit to always sleep alone.

So after a quick shower, brushing your teeth, and slipping on an old shirt to sleep in, you padded quietly back into your bedroom. Sure enough, Ben looked to be fast asleep. He laid on his back with an arm curled over his stomach. Like this, he looked peaceful. Even docile.

The thought made you smirk as you went to grab a spare blanket from your closet. You draped it over your arm and went to your nightstand next. You just wanted to grab the book you’d been reading from the top drawer. You did so very carefully, knowing Ben’s hearing was sharp.

Once you’d successfully retrieved the book and slowly shut the drawer, you turned to head for the door. A hand shot out and grabbed your elbow. You gasped and jolted slightly, but of course it was just Ben. His fingers wrapped around your arm. His eyes were open, barely.

“Where’re you going?” he rumbled.

“Um, just to go to the couch and read for a bit,” you lied on the fly. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

With a dismissive huff, he tugged you back and hauled you effortlessly back into the bed. You yelped in surprise. The book went tumbling off the side of the bed while the extra blanket got coiled between your legs. That strong arm curled around your waist. Possessive.

You turned your head across Ben’s shoulder and stared at his face. He shot you a smirk, then closed his eyes. His chest moved with his deeper breath, as it evened out in sleep.

You frowned. The man could be demanding, sure, but you never expected him to act this way. It did cause a flutter of something to rise in your belly. Something warm, and equally unexpected.

You sighed and allowed yourself to relax against him. You rested your eyes. Just for a little while, you told yourself. Then you’d try to extricate yourself.

Somehow, you never got around to it.

You woke in the morning to something warm and firm under your cheek. Your eyes slid open, and you were met with the bare chest of your lover. He was awake, sitting up against the headboard as he sipped at a mug of coffee. He glanced at you with a subtle smile pulling at his lips.

“Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty,” he said.

You smiled sleepily. Yawning, you turned and curled yourself into him without really thinking about it. But then it hit you, how intimate this was…and how much that conflicted you inside.

You eased away from him with a faked yawn, stretching your limbs, and gaining at least a few inches between you. Ben watched you do it with a certain glint of knowing in his eyes.

“You moan in your sleep,” he remarked idly.

You shot him a look of surprise. “I do not.”

“Yeah, you do. I fucking heard you,” he said. His lips pulled at a smirk. He set his coffee down and rolled over, trapping you underneath him. He thumbed at your chin. “Here I am thinking, ‘This dirty little girl. Didn’t get enough last night, did she?’”

You bit the inside of your lip against a smile. Your face warmed with a blush.

“Is that why you don’t want me in your bed?” he asked. “You embarrassed, sweetheart?”

At that, you frowned. “No, it’s not…”

“Because believe me, I’ve seen weirder shit,” he said. “There was one girl who sleepwalked into my fucking closet. That one was a headscratcher… Aw hell, one girl even took a shit in my bed.”

You gaped. “Seriously?”

He grimaced at the memory. “And tried to blame her Pomeranian. Think I don’t know a human shit when I see one?”

You blinked in bewilderment and disgust. “Dear Lord.”

Ben stroked your side.

“So you got nothing to worry about,” he said, a slow grin curving his lips. “Some little sex noises don’t bother me.”

You laughed a little, but then you chewed on your lower lip, looking up at him. You didn’t know what compelled you to be honest in that moment.

“It’s not that, it’s just…ever since I got my powers, I’ve felt safest sleeping alone,” you said.

Ben’s amusement faded. “Why’s that?”

“I’m not like you,” you admitted, touching his chin with your fingertip. “When I’m asleep, I’m vulnerable, just like everybody else.”

He seemed to consider what you were saying with furrowed brows. You itched to sweep his hair away from his eyes, but you kept your hands to yourself.

“Well, you’re safe with me,” he said eventually.

You tilt your head at him. You wondered if he really meant that, or if it was just part of the façade of “charm” he was trying to portray. Even with your skin touching his, you couldn’t quite read his heart to parse that one out.

You had to pull back on the connection before he realized that you were trying…

But then again, maybe it was you who didn’t want to know for sure.

Christmas came around sooner than you expected. This time of year was heavy on your heart, after your mom’s death.

“I’ll be back before New Year’s,” you said, leaning up to give Ben a kiss. You were in his apartment saying goodbye. His personal chef was in the kitchen cooking up something that smelled amazing, but you had to leave. You had to pick up your father in Brooklyn and drive both of you over to your brother’s house in Queens.

“What’s the winter like in Indiana?” Ben asked in curiosity.

You blinked. Fuck if you knew, but he still thought you were a smalltown girl from the boonies and the cornfields.

“Um…cold. Snowy. Same as here, basically, but the wind isn’t going to cut through your bones when you turn a corner around a skyscraper,” you said.

Ben gave a mild shrug in response. Like he was ever going to go to Indiana.

“Well, gotta go catch my flight,” you fibbed, but you grew curious about something as you peered up at him. “What’re you doing for the holidays? Seeing family, or…”

Again, he shrugged. “Nah, I’ll be here. I don’t get into that corny festive bullshit.”

You frowned. Something told you it wasn’t just that he didn’t do Christmas. He didn’t seem to have any family, or friends outside of Vought, for that matter. If you can count any of those people friends.

Was he really just going to be here all alone until New Year’s Eve?

Perhaps for the first time, you felt a bit bad for him. You knew you couldn’t invite him over for your holiday plans, however.

So you gave him another kiss goodbye, and you left.

You returned in time for Vought’s annual New Year’s Eve bash. According to Tommy and Tessa, it was legendary. First, there was a huge banquet held for all the big wigs and the investors and the press. That was just to load up on good food and champagne.

The real party was the afterparty, made up almost exclusively by supes employed by Vought—from all across the country. Of course, Payback were the guests of honor, with Soldier Boy leading the pack on free booze and lines of drugs smoked or snorted across most available surfaces.

You felt overwhelmed by all of it at first. In fact, you almost left the party. But then you saw a very drunk Countess in a little red cocktail dress, offering Ben to take a shot of tequila out of her mouth. It stirred irritation in your gut.

You grabbed the nearest bottle of alcohol, went over to them, and subtly touched Countess’s bare shoulder.

Give that shot to Tommy, you compelled her.

With that small trill of your power, Countess stood straighter and beelined straight for Tommy. She grabbed him by the back of his head and surprised him with a deep tequila kiss.

Gross.

You grimaced at the sight, but when you looked back at Ben, he was smirking in amusement. He slid an arm around your waist and spoke closely in your ear.

“Let’s have some fun.”

The next morning, you sat up in bed with a groan. Your head pounded with a horrible hangover of at least three different substances. You wiped the remnants of powder from your itchy nose. And you were naked.

You drew the sheets to cover up to your breasts, which accidentally pulled the covers off another warm body beside you—a mystery woman. Someone you vaguely recognized as another supe from the party. She woke with a wince.

“Ooh, fuck, where’s the bathroom?” she asked. You were bleary-eyed, but you managed to point over to the left. She nodded and slowly got out of bed.

You wiped at your face and realized that Ben was there as well. It was his bed, after all.

He was slowly waking up too, looking more than a little fucked up himself. You groaned and slid under his arm, resting your head against his chest. Mistakes had been made, but you couldn’t bring yourself to give a shit.

Way to ring in 1984.

There was a reason you didn’t like group training sessions. You watched with a grimace from your corner of the matt, along with the TNT Twins. For sure, they did not want to be next in the ring with Ben. His idea of training wasn’t very…constructive.

“Lighten up, Gunpowder. I’m just playing around,” Ben said, as Countess helped the younger man off the floor in concern. His eye was already swelling up, along with his bloody lip. He was too exhausted to even get off the mat. You’d tried stopping Ben fifteen minutes ago, but he hadn’t budged.

He now rolled his eyes and walked away from Gunpowder, waving a dismissive hand. “You fucking pussy.”

Your brows furrowed with your frown. You were cautious as you approached him again and lightly touched his arm.

“Was that really necessary?” you asked. “Ben, he’s only eighteen.”

He shot you a stern look.

“Don’t fucking start with me.”

He was definitely tougher on the men than he was on you or Countess, but still, it wasn’t easy to watch. This was the side of him you didn’t often see when you were alone with him. With you, he was still crass and arrogant, but sometimes, his harder edges softened the slightest bit.

In front of the team, he was Soldier Boy. He could be callous, and even cruel. It reminded you of every mission you went on together; every brutal, fatal move against the “bad guys,” and every innocent life that got caught in the crossfire.

The double doors to the gym opened, and in came Black Noir. You grew concerned, as you sensed anger coming off of him in waves.

“You’re late,” Ben said, crossing his arms. “We started at 3.”

“I really wanted that movie,” said Noir.

“The hell are you talking about?”

“I just got off the phone with my manager,” Noir continued. “It’s a no-go on Beverly Hills Cop.”

“Oh, that,” Ben said, with a roll of his eyes. Your own widened a fraction.

Noir stepped forward, his hands balling into fists. “I was born to play Axel Foley. Why would you say all those horrible things about me to Don Simpson?”

Your mouth fell open in shock. Don Simpson was a big deal. He’d produced Flashdance just last year.

“Jesus, Ben. Really?” you said.

“Zip it, Sirena,” Ben snapped. Your mouth fell shut, even as you glared at him. He rarely called you by your supe name behind Vought’s closed doors.

“The guy’s supposed to be funny,” said Ben. He pointed back at Noir. “You’re. Not. Funny.”

“Well, I…could’ve been,” Noir said, a little weakly.

If there was one thing Ben couldn’t stand, it was a weak spine.

“You’re not good enough!” he barked. “Now shut your cockhole, and get to work.”

“But—” The moment Noir grabbed the other man’s shoulder, you knew it was going to be bad.

Ben turned and threw a swift punch that would’ve rattled any supe’s spine, even if they did have super strength. It wasn’t even a contest. He beat Noir down bloody on the mats, no matter what you or the others shouted out.

You were horrified, and you couldn’t stand by and watch anymore. You hurried over and tried to touch Ben’s arm. Maybe you could calm him down.

“Ben, stop! He’s had enough—”

He meant to just rip his arm out of your grasp. Maybe he’d shove you out of the way, out of his way. But the momentum of it sent you to the floor, with the wind knocked out of you.

It managed to briefly cut through his anger. He paused, seeing the shock and the stricken look on your face. You were looking at him like he was some kind of animal.

Deep down, he felt like one too. He just couldn’t allow himself to show it.

“That’s what happens when you don’t stay the fuck out of the way,” he growled.

You blinked wide as wet tears gathered in your lashes. It struck a cacophonous chord inside him, down to his bones.

He turned away from you to glare down at Black Noir. This was his fucking fault.

“You think you can be me?” Ben sneered. “You’re not a movie star. You’re not shit. I see you getting outta line again, trying to ‘move on up,’ I will put you in the fucking ground. Understood?”

Noir, fucking pussy that he was, stayed there on the ground covered in his own blood. By the time Ben turned back to where you’d fallen, you were no longer there.

You were gone.

You left the gym in tears. You pulled a staff member aside and let her know that Black Noir and Gunpowder were going to need medical attention.

“Are you okay?” she asked in concern. “Do you need—”

“I’m fine!” you snapped, even though you were still crying. It was more embarrassment at this point. You knew what Ben was from the very beginning. You’d just never thought he would…

Sucking in one deep breath, you steeled yourself. You wiped your face dry and forced your expression to ease into nothing. Blankness.

Show them what you want them to see.

He tried to come see you that night, but you wouldn’t let him into your apartment.

He sent flowers—some bullshit roses, with an apology written on the card.

I'm sorry.

You threw them in the trash.

You were done playing this game. It wasn’t worth it.

He wasn’t worth it…

Or so you felt, for the first few days. You began to wonder just how much shit Countess had to put up with for the years that she was with him. You wondered if he’d ever hit her.

You replayed that moment over and over in your mind. You knew if you hadn’t intervened, Ben wouldn’t have shoved you. He hadn’t truly meant to, you thought. With his strength, you were lucky it hadn’t been worse.

He didn’t mean it, you tried to rationalize. Even as you tried not to think about Gunpowder, or Noir, bloody on the floor.

Because at the end of the day, being with Ben was still good for your career, and if you kept denying him like this, he’d likely just go back to Countess.

So, even though it took a huge chunk out of your pride, you ventured to the elevators and up to the penthouse suite. By now, your feet knew this path by heart, even if your stomach churned with unease.

You stood in front of Ben’s door for a minute, just thinking. You knew this was the lowest you’d ever been. Was your career really worth debasing yourself like this?

Well, your question was soon answered when the door swung open. You hastily stepped back as a trio of smiling, giggling women came out from the apartment, all of them high-heeled and scantily dressed. Behind them was Ben in a black silk robe. His hair was a mess, and he had that post-nut look on his face, along with a layer of drying sweat. They all stunk like weed and sex.

Ben paused in the doorway when he saw you. His amusement faded. You let the girls slip past you without comment. Then you crossed your arms and looked up at him flatly.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. At least, nothing good.

“Hey,” he said.

You nodded. “Right.”

You turned from him and started walking down the hall the way you came, but Ben reached out fast and grabbed your wrist.

“All right, look—”

He turned you around, only stopping short when you gasped, your eyes glowing with thinly veiled power on reflex.

“Let go of me,” you demanded. Your tone was firm, but you both heard the fear in your voice. His jaw clenched.

It seemed Ben did have a sliver of a heart somewhere inside his chest, because he let you go. You continued on your way, scrubbing furiously at the sting in your eyes.

“Dad, I just…I don’t think I can do this anymore,” you confessed. You were sitting on the edge of your bed with your head in your hands. You didn’t want to burden your brother, who had his own family, his own problems. So you called your dad first. Tears slipped down your cheeks and bled into your jeans.

“I think I need to come home,” you sniffed.

“Aw, honey. I’m sorry to hear you’re having such a hard time,” he said. “But you knew it was going to be difficult. You’ve been doing so well too.”

“I know, but—”

“And your mom’s medical bills might be taken care of, but I’ve still got the house to pay off. If it wasn’t for my back, I’d be out there working two and three jobs like I used to, but you know, I just can’t do it anymore.”

You rubbed at your tired, bleary eyes and sighed.

“Yeah. Okay, I know,” you said. “I’m going to help you, don’t worry.”

“So you’re gonna stay right? You’re going to work it out with Soldier Boy? You two do look good together, I’ve gotta say. What happened exactly? You didn’t uh, really explain that part.”

Your lower lip trembled. “Actually, Dad, I’m getting a page. Let me call you back later, okay?”

“Oh. Well, okay, sweetheart. I’m here for you. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Your next conversation was in Arthur Cohen’s office. You’d marched in while he was on the phone and said:

“I’m quitting the team.”

Arthur, professional that he was, gave you one look before he told whoever was on the other line that he’d call them back in a minute. Then he turned to you with his full attention, folding his hands on his desk. His many gold and silver rings shone in the lamplight.

“What can I do for you, sweetheart?” he asked. As if to say, Did I just hear you correctly?

You remained firm. “I want out of my contract. I’m quitting Payback.”

Arthur needed a beat on that one. “…Ah. I see.”

He held out a hand to one of the chairs in front of his desk.

“Please,” he gestured. You reluctantly obliged.

“Okay, I understand you’ve been going through some hard times—”

“Do you?” you intoned, tilting your head.

He nodded. “Believe me, I do. The problem is, you’re under a two-year minimum contract. You’re only about a year in. If you want out, no problem. I can do that for you.”

“Good,” you said. “Let’s make it happen.”

He held up a hand. “However. If you back out of this deal, remember that we invested in you. You’ll have to give back the advance we gave you, plus everything we’ve spent on your marketing, your new suit, your training, not to mention that little incident we smoothed over a couple months ago. A lot of lawyers and red tape. It’ll drive ya nuts…but it all adds up, unfortunately.”

Fuck. It hit you almost like a physical blow, a deep churning in your stomach. What kind of soul-sucking contract had you signed? Had you even read the fine print on that one?

For a long moment, you stared at Arthur’s desk in silence, to a point where he began to fidget slightly. You raised your head.

“All right,” you said, with a perfect smile. “I understand.”

Then you got up and left.

Arthur heaved a breath of relief. Fucking supes.

His door opened again, but to Stan Edgar. Arthur still didn’t know what to make of this guy. There was something about his calm, unfazed demeanor that Arthur didn’t trust.

“Sure, screw my lunch break. What can I do for ya?” he drawled.

Stan raised a brow and handed a thick file to him.

“I just got off the phone with Director Kasey from the CIA,” he said. “We’re approved for Nicaragua.”

AN: 🫣 Ooh, don't hate me loll. It's gonna get worse before it gets better. I did warn about morally charcoal characters in this series, especially Ben himself. (He's got a lot to learn, and so does Sirena, for that matter.)

And now, we hit another pivotal moment...

Next Time:

“We’re all playing a game, Irving. Just at different levels,” you said. “For example, what were you talking to Stan about?”

You’d seen them a couple of hours ago, hidden behind a fortified stone wall. Noir stopped walking. You were curious enough to follow suit.

“Something that could change everything for all of us,” he said. “You included.”

Your brows knitted together. “What’re you—”

Shots rang out in the clearing.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 8

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cosmicdahlias · 3 months ago

Text

You Know What You Do To Me

a ford x reader fic

MINORS DNI

You work as Ford’s assistant, you’ve been teasing him by acting like a little harlot. You went too far and now you’re going to be punished for it.

warnings: smut, oral, mdom

i’ve really enjoyed writing these fics! it’s been so long since i’ve been passionate about something like this 😭

It was another afternoon working at the Mystery Shack. You were dusting shelves, thinking about later tonight. You had two jobs, by day you sold overpriced knickknacks for your boss, local con artist Stan Pines, and by night you worked for his brother, Stanford. Before he even came back through the portal you were a big fan of his work, Dipper regularly lent you the journals during your breaks. You pored over the material, longing to meet the author.

When you met him it was a typical day, typical as things get in Gravity Falls. You were helping Soos fix up the place after the town had turned upside down, he filled you in on the cause. A portal, Stan had a brother who had been missing for 30 years, and more importantly this brother was the mysterious author you so desperately wanted to meet.

You were in the process of nailing a shelf back to the wall when you heard a door open behind you. You turned to see a man who looked nearly identical to Stan, but better posture, and somehow… cooler. You knew instantly this must be the man behind the journals. Your heart skipped a beat, not just from the excitement of finally getting to see the author, but because you couldn’t get over how handsome he was.

He looked at you and you felt yourself turn into a puddle. You could’ve sworn you saw his cheeks flush slightly, but convinced yourself you were seeing things.

“OH MY GOD THE AUTHOR IS LOOKING RIGHT AT ME!!! BE COOL!!! BE COOL!!!” You thought rapidly.

He made his way over to you and extended a hand to you, six fingers, the symbol on the journal’s cover made so much sense.

“Stanford Pines, you must be one of Stanley’s employees.”

“Y/n. You’re… the author of the journals.”

“You’ve read my journals?”

There it was again, the faintest tint of red on his cheeks.

“Yeah, multiple times. Your nephew lends them to me sometimes. I’ve always been into the weird and paranormal.”

“Well it’s always a pleasure to find someone who appreciates my life’s work.”

In the weeks that followed Ford would ask you to become his assistant. He insisted he was getting too old to do these things on his own. You loved working with him, unraveling the mysteries of this town. It gave you a sense of purpose.

The tension between you two was more than palpable, but neither of you had been willing to admit it to each other yet. Your time together was filled with stolen glances and flushed cheeks.

As you finished dusting a snow globe your mind wandered to your mentor. You had been pushing the limits lately, trying to get his attention. You wore more and more revealing clothes, you would drop your pen just to have an excuse to bend over in front of him, you would find reasons to stand close to him. You could tell it was driving him crazy, he would awkwardly excuse himself and disappear for ten to fifteen minutes, returning breathless.

But you started to think yesterday might have gone too far. You were sitting to the right of him as he was writing in his research notes, you pulled up your skirt slightly, slipping a hand down to your-

“Y/n, can we talk?”

You jumped, Ford had a habit of moving silently. A valuable skill when you’ve spent the last 30 years in other dimensions constantly staring death in the face.

You let your heart rate settle. “Yeah, sure.”

“Good, follow me.” He motioned you with his hand.

You both walked down the stairs to the basement where his lab resided, he turned to face you.

“Look, y/n, I know what you’ve been doing.”

You turned scarlet. You decided to feign ignorance.

“What do you mean?”

He exhaled a deep breath, massaging his temples. “Don’t play this game with me, you know exactly what you’re doing to me. Wearing shorter and shorter skirts, giving me bedroom eyes, finding any reason to bend over in front of me, and then yesterday-” he paused “yesterday you went out of your way to drive me crazy. You sat next to me, hiking up your skirt and you-“

He drew a shuddering breath, stepping awfully close, his chest almost touching yours “teased your clit over your panties, knowing full well you were in my peripherals. And you did that on purpose, stopping whenever I looked your way just to torture me, not letting me savor such a gorgeous view. I thought about you all night, I came with your name leaving my lips. And now-“ he pulled out a chair “you’re going to sit in front of me and touch yourself.”

“Ford-“

“No, you were so eager to do it yesterday, what’s stopping you now?”

You felt yourself grow wet under his words, you sat yourself down in front of him.

“Take off your panties, go ahead, take them off.”

You slipped the fabric down your legs and off your ankles letting them drop to the floor in front of you.

“Spread your legs, let me see you. Pull that skirt up.”

You obeyed his instructions.

“Now, slip a finger in your cunt and use your wetness to stroke your clit.”

You let your finger travel down to your dripping pussy, you traced little circles on your clit. You let out a sigh, Ford was watching you touch yourself, you had dreamed of this.

A growl rumbled in his throat, he watched you hungrily. His cock strained in his pants, he wanted to touch himself, but he couldn’t, not yet. You moaned softly, your brow furrowing in concentration.

“Faster, don’t stop.”

You picked up your pace, rubbing frantically, your moans growing louder, echoing through the lab. You hoped no one upstairs could hear you.

“Tell me how it feels.” He demanded.

“Mmmh, Ford, it feels so good.” You whimpered.

“That’s right, I know it does.”

He stepped close to you, a hand on the back of the chair, looking straight at you. You could smell him, fresh pine and leather. Your breathing became shallow and erratic, you were getting close. Ford could sense it.

“Are you going to cum?”

“Y- yes.”

“Good, look at me.”

You locked eyes with him, he stared at you intently. The feeling on your clit was becoming overwhelming, you were going to cum, dear god you were going to cum for him.

“Nhhh, ah hah, Ford.” You pathetically whimpered out, you couldn’t form a real sentence if you tried.

You felt yourself right on the edge, god you loved this, you loved putting on a show for him, you gritted your teeth in anticipation.

“Stop.”

“Wh- what?”

“You heard me, stop touching yourself.”

You withdrew your hand, your orgasm ruined.

“Why did you- I don’t understand.”

“You’ve been teasing me for weeks, with yesterday being the final straw. Now you’re going to see how it feels. Actions have consequences and you’re going to learn that. You don’t get to cum.”

He pulled you up by your arm, he grabbed your face and kissed you sloppily in pure hunger and desire. He let you go and dropped his hands to his belt buckle, undoing it.

“You need to see what you’re doing to me.”

He slipped his pants down enough to reveal his thick, hard cock. Fuck, he’s big. You bit your lip instinctively.

“Stroke my cock, now.”

You wrapped your hand around his shaft, your thumb massaging the head. He let out a groan of approval and you began pumping his cock. He started kissing and sucking on your neck, he was going to mark you so everyone knew you were his property. He started to buck into your hand, a bead of precum forming at the head. He throbbed, moaning into your neck.

He took your face in his hands again, god you loved when he looked at you.

“Get on your knees and take my cock in your mouth.”

“Yes sir.”

He throbbed at “sir” no one had ever called him that, he liked it. He made a mental note to encourage you to keep saying it.

You dropped to your knees and took his full length in your mouth.

“Fuuuck baby you’re so good at this, no one’s ever taken me all the way down before.”

He grabbed a fistful of hair and began fucking your mouth aggressively. You choked and pulled back. He chuckled.

“Oh poor baby, guess I spoke too soon, I’m sorry sometimes I forget how hard it is to handle a cock like mine.” He taunted while stroking your chin with his thumb. “I’ll try to slow down, it helps if you make an effort to breathe out of your nose.”

He resumed face fucking you, this time with a slightly more gentle rhythm, but you still felt the inclination to gag. You attempted to steadily breathe out of your nose and felt the urge subside. He clenched his jaw and picked up his pace again, you were really struggling to take him, he liked it that way.

His hips stuttered and bucked against your mouth. He could feel his orgasm rising.

“Baby slow down, slow down you’re gonna make me cum.”

You decided to ignore him, continuing to work your mouth on his cock.

“Stopstopstopstop. Stop!” He growled.

He seized your hair and pulled you off of his cock, knocking you backward. He reached out a hand and pulled you to your feet, then raised a hand and brought it down hard on your ass.

“You need to listen to me, next time I won’t be so nice.”

You savored the idea of being left with a six fingered welt. He lowered his hands to your hips and spun you around. He pressed himself against your back, his hard cock throbbing on your ass. His hand gripped your throat and he whispered in your ear.

“I’m going to fuck you senseless until I finish inside of you and you’re not going to cum, do you understand?”

You nodded fervently.

“Good, you’re so cute when you listen.” He said while slipping his thumb in your mouth.

He bent you over his desk, papers falling to the floor, one hand gripping your shoulder, the other on your hip. He pressed the tip of his cock into you before forcing the rest of his length inside of you. You started to scream out in pleasure, but Ford instinctively clasped a hand over your mouth.

He slapped your ass again. “Quiet, stardust, do you want everyone to hear you?”

He began to pump his cock inside of you, his hips slapping against your ass. You tightened around him and he groaned loudly.

“God I love the way your pussy squeezes my cock, it’s so fucking perfect.” He panted between thrusts.

He fucked you with a brutal intensity. He was doing this for his own pleasure, not yours. Like he said, you didn’t get to cum, not after what you had done yesterday. He pulled out and you whined, paused for effect and slammed himself back in. You threw your head back, moaning his name.

It felt so goddam good to finally fuck you like this after all the moments he had to steal himself away from his work to just to stroke his cock because you were incessantly teasing him. He had imagined you bent over his desk like this thousands of times. The image of you taking his cock like a good little whore was all the could picture whenever he caught you staring at him.

His grip on your shoulder and hip tightened, nails digging into your flesh. He was fucking you faster and faster, he wanted so badly to know what cumming in you felt like. You started to move your hips back onto him. Oh my god he couldn’t believe you wanted him this badly.

“Goddammit yes baby fuck back on my cock like that, you’re gonna make me fucking cum.”

You whimpered in approval.

“Would you like that stardust? Huh? Do you want me to cum inside of you?”

All you could manage was a weak “Uh huh.”

He panted like a dog, he was gonna breed you like one. Sweat began go form on his forehead, his glasses fogging.

“You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted this, wanted you. When I first met you I thought you were so fucking beautiful. I spent that night stroking myself to the cute Mystery Shack employee. I thought it was just a lonely old man’s fantasy that you would ever show me any interest, but then you started working for me and you would look at me with those eyes. God those eyes, so full of lust and want.”

You felt his cock throb inside you, he was close.

“I’m going to fill you up, have you dripping with my cum. Tell me you want it, I want to hear you beg.”

“Please, I need your cum in me. I need it so bad.”

“Call me sir.”

“Ahhh, hah, please sir, cum in me.”

He moaned loudly as he fucked you with a ruthless intensity. He buried himself deep in you as he came, your name escaping his lips. He didn’t stop fucking you, the feeling was overwhelming but he couldn’t help himself.

For a while there was nothing but the sounds of your heavy breaths. He began to slowly pull his cock out of you, cum spilling onto the floor. Jesus fucking christ he needed to draw this later.

You stayed bent over his desk, legs shaking. He grabbed you by your waist and pulled you onto his lap as he sat in his desk chair.

“Are you alright? I didn’t take it too far, did I?” He said stroking your hair.

“N- no, it was incredible.” You said between haggard breaths.

“Good, now here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to go upstairs and finish the rest of your shift. You are to keep your panties off and let my cum slowly drip out of you. And then later tonight you’ll stay here and I’ll reward you by letting you cum on my tongue and cock, if, and only if you heed my instructions. Do we have a deal, stardust?”

Your heart thumped wildly in your chest. Having Ford to yourself all night? Holy fucking shit yes.

“Deal.” You smiled.

“That’s my baby.” He said cupping your chin and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You ascended up the creaking stairs back to work. Mind still buzzing with the moment you had just shared with Ford.

“There you are. I was startin’ to think you ditched, but then I- whoa, what happened to you, kid? You look like you’ve been hit by a bus.” Stan said in his gruff voice.

You caught your reflection in the window, your hair was a mess. You quickly attempted to fix it.

“Ah, uh, I was just helping Ford fix some stuff.”

Stan stared at you for a second before a smirk creased his lips.

“Oh yeah I bet he fixed you real good, kid.”

You turned beet red “No, that’s not what I-“

He laughed. “Look, I’m just happy you two finally hooked up. I was gettin’ real sick of watching you two ogle at each other like horny repressed teenagers. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a bet to settle with Wendy.”

“Great, Stan. Thanks for not making things awkward.”

#ford pines #ford pines x reader #ford pines smut #ford pines fanfic #gravity falls #my fics

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burningred1989 · 20 days ago

Text

A BUDDING CONNECTION

A/N: Harry Styles, charming heartthrob of One Direction, and Y/N, a rising star in the music industry, were thrown together under the orchestrated guidance of Simon Cowell. A PR relationship to generate buzz and keep the tabloids talking—nothing more, nothing less.

MASTERLIST

<<<<<

The morning sun bathed New York City in a crisp, golden glow, and the chaos of Times Square buzzed outside the Good Morning America studio. Inside, One Direction had just wrapped up their electric performance, the screams of fans still echoing in their ears as they were ushered backstage. Harry Styles, with his signature smirk and unruly curls, was buzzing with energy, his green eyes glinting with excitement.

Simon Cowell stood waiting in the hallway, his posture exuding authority. Beside him was a young woman who looked like she had rolled out of bed five minutes ago. Y/N was dressed casually in a slightly oversized sweatshirt and joggers, her hair in a messy bun, and her face fresh without makeup. She held a coffee cup like it was her lifeline, her tired eyes betraying her lack of enthusiasm.

“Ah, there you are!” Simon greeted the boys as they approached. He gestured toward Y/N. “Boys, I want you to meet Y/N. She’s an up-and-coming artist, and I have a feeling she’s going to be the next big thing.”

Y/N glanced up from her coffee and offered a small, tired wave. “Hi,” she said simply, her voice hoarse from what sounded like a late night.

Louis was the first to break the silence. “Bit early for you, is it?” he teased, earning a few chuckles from the group.

“Something like that,” Y/N replied dryly, taking a long sip from her coffee.

Simon stepped in. “Harry, Y/N—this is a perfect opportunity for both of you. We’re setting you two up as a PR couple. Publicity for Y/N, and a bit of buzz for you and the band.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up, but he quickly masked his surprise with a charming smile. “Is that so?” he asked, his gaze sliding to Y/N.

Simon nodded. “Yes, that’s so. I want you two to spend time together, be seen together, and let the media pick it up from there. Simple as that.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Right. And I don’t have a say in this?”

Simon gave her a tight smile. “It’s in your contract, love.”

Harry leaned closer to her, his voice low but playful. “Don’t worry. I’m not that bad to hang out with.”

Y/N snorted softly, her initial annoyance softening slightly. “We’ll see about that.”

<<<<<

As the group dispersed, Harry found himself gravitating toward Y/N. Her casual demeanor and unimpressed attitude intrigued him—it was refreshing compared to the usual fawning he encountered.

“So,” he started, falling into step beside her as they walked toward the exit, “is this your usual look, or did you just lose a battle with your alarm clock?”

Y/N shot him a sidelong glance, the corners of her mouth twitching into a small smile. “I didn’t know I was meeting royalty today. Otherwise, I’d have rolled out the red carpet.”

“Touché,” Harry said, his grin widening. He liked her quick wit.

She took another sip of her coffee, clearly unimpressed by his charm—or at least pretending to be. “Do you always flirt with your contractual obligations, or am I special?”

Harry chuckled, leaning casually against the wall as they waited for their cars. “Only the special ones. You should feel honored.”

Y/N shook her head, a quiet laugh escaping her lips despite herself.

<<<<<

Over the next few days, Simon arranged for them to be seen together—lunches, rehearsals, and even a few staged “casual” outings. The first paparazzi pictures surfaced within a week, showing Harry holding the door open for Y/N as she exited a café, her messy bun now a signature look among fans.

Social media exploded.

- “Who’s this girl with Harry? She’s so real, I love her vibe!”

- “Are Harry and Y/N dating?! She’s gorgeous!”

- “Simon is definitely behind this, but I’m lowkey obsessed with them already.”

Behind the scenes, Harry and Y/N fell into an easy rhythm. Despite the initial awkwardness, they discovered they actually got along well. Harry’s natural charm began to wear her down, and Y/N’s sharp humor kept him on his toes.

One evening, during a particularly long photoshoot for a tabloid spread, Harry leaned in and whispered, "If we're going to keep this up, you might as well admit you're having fun."

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smile. "Don't push your luck, Styles."

"I'm just saying," he replied with a wink, "you don't seem like you hate me anymore.”

"Yet," she shot back, making him laugh.

PART 2: THE SHIFT

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soapoet · 2 years ago

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describing your next love...

...because i'm just as nosy as you are.

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

Shufflemancy: Lucky people by Waterparks

they have a very sunny energy. the kind that peaks out behind the clouds after a fall of rain. rejuvenating, always welcome. they try their best to stay optimistic, for loved ones and strangers alike. it feels a little tragic because there is a darkness inside them that they choose to ignore. their sunny disposition seems less like a mask and more like armour. it's what has gotten them this far. they may have had a rough childhood, and their heart may have been wounded particularly by one of their parents. they struggle with mental health and might be neurodivergent. they're the kind of person to end a depressing sentence with 'lmao', or turn a therapy session into a stand-up comedy show. they cope with their struggles through humour, because if they take themselves and their problems too seriously and lean in too close to where it hurts, the pain becomes overwhelming. their heart is much like a dam, holding back tons of tears of almost biblical proportions. even still, if they opened the floodgates they'd find a way to muster a 'noah, get the arc' joke to force some sunlight through the clouds.

despite their dance around their own feelings, they're encouraging of others expressing theirs, and stand firmly by their side and always have a shoulder to offer if needed. they love to make people laugh, and aren't afraid of making a fool out of themselves if it puts a smile on someone's face. they'll gladly cast themselves as a jester if it makes their loved ones feel like royalty. they're very excitable and fun to be around. at their best they are a firecracker, bursting with an energy so infectious and bright. they're creative and very passionate about their hobbies, often to the point of obsession. it seems like all they do they do with such love. like a show is never just a show, but a whole world of its own to explore and come to know as home. they love the escapism of foreign lands, fictional and real, and something about them makes a simple trip to the grocery store an adventure with many memories to one day share.

you either already know them, or will meet them very soon. especially if you're in a transitional period, moving away, changing jobs or applying to schools, then this is a person you'll meet in this next chapter of your life. this has friends to lovers written all over it. you might be in the same friend group, or meet them through a mutual friend. their hair stands out for some reason. it could either be in the literal sense because it's messy, perpetual bedhead, or they have a unique colour or cut. perhaps they change their hair frequently and have a bit of chameleon vibes in which they become unrecognisable with every change that they make to their appearance. they're average in height but could look taller than they actually are. their posture isn't the greatest, especially if they're an artist of some kind. they have golden retriever energy and may be a dog person in general. for some, they have freckles or dimples, or prominent birth marks. there's a lot of mutual pining involved before anything happens. they're a little bit oblivious, too. someone else might have to step in to spell things out for either of you.

02.

Shufflemancy: Into you by Ariana Grande

being playful and flirtatious can get you in quite a bit of trouble, and they know this from experience. they're attractive, and seem very aware of it, though there is less legitimate arrogance and more playful cockiness involved. they like to make an effort to look good, and have a strong appreciation for a partner who does the same. generosity may be a way they show this appreciation because they understand the time and maintenance this effort can take, and are of the mindset that they ought to reward what they like rather than simply expect it or take it for granted. they're likely involved in business such as investments or trade, or could be working on building a business of their own. they're physically fit, and might frequent the gym or be into sports. they have a lot of stamina because of this, so do with that information what you will.

they could have a bit of a reputation due to an unscrupulous past, and it is one they have done much work to rewrite. they want to settle down, but haven't found someone they could commit to. a big issue for them is the way fun gets sucked out of things too quickly in the relationships they've been in. they're very spontaneous and have a big capacity for romance, but they often find themselves lacking space and time to do anything special. like how you would decide to clean the house to surprise your mother, only to have her call and ask you to do just that, ruining the gesture. similarly, in their relationships they may find themselves cornered, and in the suffocation of their freedom and passion their capacity and desire to impress and to woo begins to fade like a smothered flame, which in turn causes strife. and the nagging that so often followed turns them into a complacent shell of themselves, wherein it's better to nod along than risk discord. they seek an equal. somebody powerful in their own right, who can support them and be supported in return. they want love to be an adventurous undertaking of a power couple ready to seize the day.

this feels like a right person wrong time -scenario. when you meet they're probably in a relationship with someone else, or you are. you could meet at some sort of social gathering or organised event like a fundraiser or a concert. there's a distinct sense of delay here, though the interest is mutual and very persistent right from the beginning. they could hold themselves back from pursuing anything with you at first because they want a clean slate. it may at first to you seem like frustrating indecision and make you question their intentions, even integrity, but they may just be untangling their life and closing chapters. they yearn for the long-term and would like the house and the kids and whole nine yards, but need to make sure their life is upright, straightened, and ready for it. there is a playful glint in their eyes, which may be hazel or brown. there is a distinct warmth to them and a loving gaze feels especially adoring from them. they would make a very good and attentive parent and spouse for the right person. there could be a noticeable size difference between you. if you're softer and curvier, they're more angular and dense, and if you're shorter, they're taller, etc.

03.

Shufflemancy: Great shipwreck of life by IAMX

oh, how charming! they're gregarious, and attract quite a few admirers. though it seems they take few, if any, seriously at all. their popularity may be a byproduct of an important or visible position that they hold. they could be a prominent figure within their community or be very successful in their field of work or hobbies. their schedule is often packed with meetings, events and social obligations. they could travel a lot too, both for pleasure and for work. for their work they may spend extended periods of time away from home. in spite of their sociable persona, they keep their private life very private, under lock and key, and may even be secretive about it to an extent. they may be unapproachable or simply be unattainable by people outside of their established circles. there is an element of social games or hierarchical factors present in their life, and whilst they're good at networking, climbing ranks, or beating records, they may actually find many around them to be uninteresting or outright obnoxious. where they spend their professional hours draws a lot of similar types of people together, and their tastes differ quite a bit. being married to their work in a way leaves few options for them in love since they look for something outside of their norm, which they have little time to explore.

there could be a fear of being taken advantage of. like they can't seem to trust people easily, and expect everyone to have ulterior motives. to use them or get something from them. these trust issues run deep, and either they have been burnt before or have watched somebody close to them fall from grace and are afraid they'll share that same fate. there could also be legal reasons for their caution, as they may have signed contracts or taken an oath that dictates what they can and cannot share, particularly if they work for the government or a big corporation.

this connection might begin online or otherwise have distance involved even if you meet in person first. lots of messages or calls. they revel in good banter and enjoy entertaining more out-there ideas. they feel starved off of deeper conversations because their life seems to revolve around a lot of simple niceties and professional talk with tons of things redacted, edited, and filtered to fit into a very narrow box deemed correct and good and appropriate. it's very tiring and wears them out, even though they won't show it. they really appreciate things that differ from the norm or breaks the status quo in some way. what they consider their type is also very different from what would be expected of them, and their peers would be shocked to hear what they find ideal both in terms of a partner and a life that they would like to lead. their voice seems important too. they have a very attractive voice, could be a great speaker or an artist. their hair is either longer or shorter than average (shorter for women, longer for men), and their physique leans slimmer and angular, not a lot of curvature just lots of straight lines and sharpness.

04.

Shufflemancy: Willow by Taylor Swift

they probably don't get out much. most if their life occurs behind closed doors. they could work or study remotely, and their schedule might be different from the usual nine to five. their friends and family may live at a distance, too, which leaves them few reasons to leave the house. they need mental stimulation and might be a little high-strung, their nerves like violin strings wound too tight. independence is of great importance to them and their boundaries are clear, almost like austere walls protecting a castle. they appear aloof and don't say much, especially around strangers. though their shyness is often overruled by their intrigue. they like to tinker with things and minds alike, and may often step in to play devil's advocate just to stir the pot. especially in their boredom they may seek out discourse as a form of entertainment. they have strong opinions, but are not stubborn or unable to bend. in fact, something they abhor is weak convictions and mindless agreement. they respect admittance of ignorance far more than the parroting of popular opinions if there is a lack of substance behind them. they really do not seem to mind different views at all, and may surround themselves with people of all walks of life and various temperaments and opinions. this is in part driven by an insatiable thirst for knowledge. it's as though they've made their quest in life to seek information and learn everything they can in one short lifetime. they are open-minded and curious, and have great respect for anyone who has something to teach them. and they're a great teacher themself! even if they do not literally teach as a part of their work, they might have been told by many that they should consider it because they really have a way of adapting information, hand-tailoring it to their audience, so that even complex things get delivered and comprehended.

where they may be a great source of knowledge and advice to those around them, they aren't the greatest in terms of emotional support. they are a problem solver, and they can't fix tears. they try, but it feels clumsy and awkward. though that can be a little charming, too. they care a lot, more than people might expect. they're just terrible at showing it through big and extravagant gestures and displays of affection. they're more likely to give praise or take on tasks to unburden you. they like routine and solitude and seek someone who rivals the comfort of their peace and quiet. they could die happy if they could simply share a space comfortably with someone without constant noise, buzz, and attention. they could be strangely private about things that don't necessarily call for privacy. like, they might easily drop childhood lore in a casual conversation, but find inquiries about what they did yesterday suspicious even if they didn't do anything special.

because this is a bit of a 'rapunzel, rapunzel, let down your hair' -type of situation where they're very comfortable in their ivory tower that gets no visitors, it might take a while before you meet them. they're far more social online and you could meet through common interests like online games, subreddits, discord, or through mutual friends. if you already know them, there may be a sense of unrequited love for a while. they rarely act on their infatuations and just wait it out, enjoying the feelings for what they are but do little, if anything, about them. alternatively they participate in very indirect chasing that appears more like making the other person chase them. they have attractive hands, could be ambidextrous or they fidget a lot with their hands. they may be a writer, play an instrument or play a lot of video games. they always appear deep in thought or even a little irritable, even if they're actually not. not so much RBF as simply spacing out. their eyes seem hazy. whichever colour they are it looks desaturated and blurry, like there's mist covering them. blues lean greyish, greens look muddy, browns look more true and lack the amber warmth. they might wear glasses or contacts. regardless of race they're a little paler and may have some health concerns or struggles.

05.

Shufflemancy: I want you to want me by Chase Holfelder

there is something broken here. their home, their heart, or perhaps their mind. it'll be difficult to break through this shell because the exterior is harsh and uninviting. whatever it is that haunts them, it really shows in their relationships. they walk a path seemingly unlit and full of horrors, leaving behind them a trail of broken hearts. pieces of both their own and those of past lovers scattered along the way. to some their love is suffocating, draining and overbearing. when they get attached they latch on with a powerful grip that seems unyielding. they're a rock that could weather the strongest of storms and they're used to being a pillar of strength. but it seems as though their past is full of people who would have needed the room to bend with the winds and were left feeling too restricted. they may have a jealous streak that's rooted in fear of betrayal, likely from past hurts. they could struggle with a mental illness or have history of abusing drugs or alcohol to numb what haunts them.

they really want a partner in crime. someone who is similar to them and understands their turmoil. they have a big capacity to understand and deal with heavy burdens and mental issues in a partner too and aren't easily fazed by emotional outbursts or any type of spiraling mentally or emotionally. they also remind me of the quote 'a hero will sacrifice the person they love to save the world, a villain will sacrifice the world to save the person they love'. they seem a bit like an outcast or a misfit, and those closest to them may also be underdogs and form a very tight-knit group. they're a little bit of a hopeless romantic and have a soft side. if they're musically inclined they might write you a song, or otherwise use writing as a way to express their feelings in a deeper way. their cold and rough exterior is there to ward off the most frail and flaky. they don't want to ruin dainty petals or have their own ripped out by players.

funnily enough they actually look like one themselves. they have that quintessential heartbreaker look to them. the one all the movies deem nothing but trouble. a villain in the story of many but their own and those closest to them. there is a feminine energy close to them that they're very protective of, like a sister or mother. for some they might be providing and caring for a sick relative. they have an unusual job or field of study, and peculiar working hours. they might work a graveyard shift, gigs, or do work that's seasonal or done on the go. music plays a big role in their life and you could meet them at a concert or through another kind of relation to a band or artist you both enjoy. they take a keen interest in the strange, and the mysteries of life. they might study the occult, enjoy conspiracy theories, true crime, etc. they're distinctly cool toned, blondes are dirty and ashy, browns are void of red pigment and lean darker, almost black. blue eyes are very cold and piercing, and brown eyes are very dark and may appear black. they have piercings, tattoos or scars and may bruise easily, or be into those things in others.

06.

Shufflemancy: Trust by Boy Epic

somebody send this person on a mandatory holiday. i really should not have left this one for last, because the energy is really heavy. their life seems unbalanced, like it is all work and no play. there is a jittery energy here as though they are running on fumes and caffeine to fuel a big machine with hundreds of intricately moving parts. they might work in real estate, management, law, IT, or have a lot of people they're in charge of who depend on them. they have impeccable memory and somehow manage to stay on top of things with ease. they like being personally involved and may be hands-on with many of their projects. task management comes naturally to them. it's as if they're playing a game of chess with life and stay aware of every possible variable and reach outcomes long before they show in the present. this spills into all areas of their life and allows them to map out goals with great precision, leaving very little room for uncertainty. they're very stable and competent. but they're also miserable. even though they enjoy their work for its challenges and the heights it allows them to reach, it may seem to them as though they are wearing themselves out without real purpose beyond the accolades. like they're building an empire in vain because there is nobody to share their glory. they want more from life, namely a home. their home is as big as it is hollow and they don't like it there. it lacks a lot of love and light and they wish to bring some of that into it through children and a spouse.

they may come from a big family themselves, even one of good fortune. their discipline and work ethic is likely something instilled in them by a father figure, and there could be a bit of an eldest child complex at play, wherein they have always felt the need to set an example for their younger siblings, but also feel embittered by what they cannot get away with that others so easily can. they could use with a bit of whimsical and carefree energy in their life. they're aware of it too, as they find a bit of chaos oddly attractive in a partner. in previous relationships they may have been with people far too similar to them, allowing them no place of restoration and solace, but instead a constant movement of the goal post. they seek someone comfortable and more easy-going who can help them relax and live a little. they are generous and would spoil a worthy partner rotten, but are also afraid of gold diggers and don't want to be taken advantage of, as they may have run the risk of in the past.

out of all groups, this one leans the oldest. depending on your age they could easily be 5-10 years your senior, and if you're very young it will likely take some time before you meet them. you might meet through work, through coworkers, at a work related event, or if it is a leisurely occasion it's one with a mixture of age groups like a family gathering of sorts. for a few, you could run into them a few times at random whilst running errands and going about your daily routines. either way interest is established quickly, even though they may seem stand-offish or even stiff at first. in actuality they busy themselves with observing, and throughout your interactions, and your interactions with other people in their presence, they size you up and try to figure you out. they could be very taken with you, but they try their best to not show it. they're cordial, but keep their cards hidden. once they decide to pursue you everything happens very quickly. again, because of their game of chess having played out various scenarios while they figured out their feelings and rearranged their life to fit you into it. they're eager to please, and one-on-one you may be surprised by their sensitive and softer side. they're doting and have a lot of adoration once they fall, and out in public where they seem level-headed and collected you can easily distract them and have them stumbling a bit. they're very protective and are bigger or stronger than you. their features lean darker and they may have an earthy look to them, like green or hazel eyes and auburn hair. this one has the strongest indications of marriage.

#pac reading #energy reading #pick a card #pick a picture #intuitive reading #love reading #tarot reading #pick a card reading #pick a pile #love pac #tarot pac #soapy.post

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musedeluce · 2 months ago

Text

Protection Detail

Rafayel x Reader – (He didn’t actually hire you to protect him as a bodyguard, but you don’t know that, and of course you take your job seriously.)

Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Slight Angst, Slight Violence, Hospitalization, Blood and Injury.

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It was dusk, and the heady, but ultimately pleasant scent of different perfumes swirled through the air as people moved throughout the exhibit. Floral,citrus, earthy, fresh, there was such a variety of scents. Inhaling, you did your best to identify the specific notes. It was something you did for fun, and also to hone your senses, as keen senses could save your life, and others one day. An ornate chandelier twinkled, illuminating the grand exhibition hall. People dressed in beautiful, high quality clothes milled about, moving from painting to painting. From your vantage point on a balcony overlooking the exhibit, everything seemed to be going quite well. As Rafayel’s hired bodyguard, you were never that far from him, but you took care to be as unobtrusive as possible. Right now, you had just finished a security check and were on your way to relieve the security guard you had asked to watch him while you were gone, for 10 minutes at most.

“Thank you.” Taking your post, you make sure you can see Rafayel clearly and keep an eye on the environment around him. As if he knew you were looking at him, he turned his head, his vibrant, swirling indigo eyes meeting yours for a moment, as it to make sure you were still there, before he turned away to speak with a guest.

“No problem. Nothing really happened while you were gone. Mainly, Thomas has been introducing people to him to briefly talk and then whisking them away again while he stands there looking austere.” That’s so like him, you think, amused at him purposely being the minimum amount of sociable he could be. You were lucky in this regard, as you didn’t have to socialize with anyone at all. The security guard walked off and you remained, alert to any trouble. Slowly, Rafayel circled throughout the room with you following discreetly, and he would sometimes glance back at you before he moved. For a few hours, that’s how the exhibition continued. Everything was calm, people mingled, delicious food and drink was consumed, and honestly it was a great time.

While surveying the grand hall, something slightly out of place caught your eye. A lone figure stood gazing up that the pinnacle of the exhibit, close enough to touch the masterpiece painting.. too close. His posture was stiff, his back ramrod straight and his hands, his hand were clenched at his sides. You couldn’t here anything from where you were but the man seemed to be talking to himself, mouthing words, probably bitter, ugly words if his body language was any indication. It reminded you of someone you had met before. Abruptly, the man whipped around and stalked through the crowd...straight towards Rafayel. Naturally, you started moving towards Rafayel as well, maneuvering to intercept the man before he reached the artist.

Physically dealing with a person is always supposed to be the last resort, with de-escalation being the main goal of any bodyguard. The response should always be proportionate, and the goal should always be the protection of your mark. Security people do not exist to punch people out, they’re only supposed to do that if that’s the only option. Hence, why you positioned yourself in between the man and your employer, who also happened to be someone you considered dear.

“Why should he get all the attention? Just him? My work is just as good, but I’m paid dust!” His voice was tinged with a sickly green, the tone bitter and rotten. “All his work is boring and generic. Inspiring? Unique? Don’t make me laugh. “ His noxious laughter seemed to echo throughout the hall, the sour smell of alcohol on his breath shed more light on the situation.

“Sir, are you feeling alright?” You kept your voice neutral, changing your expression to one of concern despite your annoyance. It was a better approach to ask this question and questions like it instead of immediately asking them to leave, or what they were doing as that was much more confrontational. It had the added benefit of often confusing them, and actually making them consider their actions. Unfortunately, this time it failed.

“I’ll feel perfectly fine when you get out of my way.” The man tries to get all up in your face, but you remain unruffled.

“Sir. I can’t do that, but I might be able to help you in some other way. Do you want a glass of water?” He sneers, and spews spit in your direction as he snarls at you.

“Bitch, get the fuck out of my way. I don’t need a fucking glass of water.” He attempts to push you aside. Annoyed, but not surprised, you effortlessly grab him and flip him around, locking his arms behind his back and start to escort him in the direction of the exit. Hearing some soft footsteps approaching, you knew Rafayel had seen what was going on. Hopefully you could get him out before Rafayel made it to you.

“Okay, sir. I’m going to have to escort you out for getting physical.”

“How dare you put your hands on me!” The idiot was starting to make a scene, but it’s not like you cared. You were doing your job, and he was making himself look bad, a scene wouldn’t affect you. “Rafayel is the one who deserves to be humiliated! He’s got you all eating out of the palm of his hand because of some pathetic art that has no soul!” Other security guards approached, and you made the decision to hand him off to them so you could get back to Rafayel, and so that this person wasn’t with you when Rafayel got close, he was about 2/3rds of the way to you. After the initial outburst, people, seeing it was just someone being drunk and poorly behaved, returned to what they were doing as soon as they saw it was being handled.

“Escort him out, please. And call him a cab or something, he’s drunk, on both jealousy and alcohol.” You push him into the custody of the same man you had asked to watch Rafayel for a while. Turning on your heel, you stride in Rafayel’s direction and meet up with him quickly.

“What’s up?” He asks, tone casual and almost playful, but not quite.

“Just some drunk idiot.” You shrug, and fill Rafayel on what happened, leaving out the specific insults upon his art.

“HEY!” The sharp yell behind you was followed by the footsteps of someone directly sprinting towards Rafayel, and you. Instinctually, you whip around, pushing Rafayel behind you. Icy pain exploded through your head, which had snapped back with the impact of the man’s punch. Itaking the punch was something you knew you were capable of, and since he had now punched you, you could now take more actions. Also, there was no way in Hell you were gonna let some drunken, pathetic sod even touch Rafayel, let alone punch him. The sod in question could now also be booked for assault. All of these were reasons you took the punch, and also because the man had acted quite quickly, and you spent any extra time you had to react to him getting Rafayel out of the way, so you also took the punch because it was one of the only actions you could take at the time.

Unimpressed, you look back at the man, who was apparently sobering up as realization of what he had done dawned in his eyes. You punched him in the stomach as hard as you could, for the purposes of subduing him and possibly, a little bit, for your own satisfaction. Writhing on the ground, event security surrounded him and finally he was kicked out.

“What a mess.” Muttering to yourself, you turn to Rafayel, making sure he was alright. “My apologies, Boss.” You gently touch your nose, your hand coming away with crimson blood on the tips of your fingers. It wasn’t broken but that wasn’t the only thing you had to worry about, whenever you took a blow to the head it was always possible to get a concussion, and bleeding from your nose wasn’t a great sign, especially since you hadn’t actually been punched directly in the nose. “Are you okay?” You eye him, examining his body up and down. “You seem to be, but I’d like your verbal confirmation.” Rafayel grabs your bloodied hand, making a show of examining it, and your face, closely.

“Your devotion is astounding.” His tone is playful, teasing. “I should reward you with a trip to the hospital, the most magical location in the world.” Gasping, you play along, a smile twitching at the corners of your lips.

“The hospital? I’ve always wanted to go there, what a great reward!” The two of you make your way to one of the exits, walking side by side which is unusual as you were either in front of him or behind him depending on the situation. Everyone lets you go, even Thomas.

“Your chariot awaits.” Rafayel opens the passenger door for you, deciding that he would be the one to drive - quite honestly, a good thing because you felt a headache developing, and you couldn’t tell if it was a concussion headache, or just one from being punched.

“Your powers of perception are most impressive! What tipped you off about that pathetic knave?” Rafayel continued his teasing, which you were grateful for. It would serve a dual purpose of keeping you engaged, important if you had a concussion, and honestly just making you feel better.

“Alas, it’s nothing so impressive as you may think. The knave reminded me of someone creepy I had met before.”

“Oh?” Rafayel arches an eyebrow. “Do enlighten me, noble knight.”

“Hush.” You giggle, and then become more serious. “Remember how our second meeting was because I needed to investigate one of your paintings? The man tonight reminded me of Raymond, the collector who bought your painting. They both had the same...creepy and obsessive vibes. I honestly suspect that what happened to Raymond was orchestrated somehow, and that he brought it upon himself. This man today, also brought what happened upon himself.”

“Interesting!” Rafayel’s playful voice adapted a silken tone.”You don’t talk a lot about your other job! I feel left out, and this topic is much less boring than some jealous drunk. Who do you think orchestrated what happened to Raymond?”

“Well, the most likely suspect is you, as the artist. You have the most control over the painting itself.” Equally as playful as he was, you continue to speak. “But, who cares? I trust your judgment, given what I know of you, though I suspect I don’t know that much. I also trust my own judgment, and there was something seriously off about Raymond. Hence why when this guy reminded me of him, I was on alert.”

“How flattering! To think, the best hunter in Linkon trusts my judgment as much as their own.” A genuine, soft smile graces Rafayel’s pretty face. A minute later, you’re at Akso hospital, making your way to the emergency room. Luckily for you, it wasn’t very busy and the wait was short. Unluckily, you were admitted overnight for observation, because even though you seemed to be fine, they wanted to know for sure, and there was the extra factor of your protocore syndrome to consider.

“Honestly Rafayel, it’s okay if you leave.” He had been allowed to go with you once you told them you wanted to see him, so you could inform him of what was going on. “I’ve spent a lot of nights in this hospital alone. I just wanted to make sure you knew what was up.”

“What? And leave you alone after you so valiantly protected me? Not a chance.” Rafayel takes a seat on the hospital cot he had set up. “Besides, we apparently need to discuss your rather worrying tendency for self-sacrifice. I’m a bit mad, you know.”

“Mad? Why would you be mad when I was protecting you, a job you explicitly hired me to do?” He gasped in mock outrage.

“You only protected me because I pay you? In that case -” His tone softens. “If I stop paying you will you stop trying to protect me?”

“Rude! I didn’t just protect you because you pay me, I genuinely wanted to protect you. I don’t want you to get hurt, especially not if there’s anything I can do about it.” You were earnest, and frankly Rafayel was scared to hear it, but so impossibly happy. “So, I guess the answer to that question is no.” Your laugh was invigorating.

“Humans are all so selfish. Always acting how they want with no regard for anyone else.” The cot creaked as he leaned backwards, the fresh, energetic smell of his cologne wafting through the air, and his voice was quiet, enough so that you suspect he was talking to himself. You responded anyway.

“That’s not true. Humans are too varied to make blanket statements like that and “Humans are inherently evil and horrible.” Rafayel hums in response, studying you, the pause in the conversation growing heavy.

“I’ve decided. No protecting me if it hurts you.” He gets up off the cot, and spreads his arms, wordlessly asking for a hug. You open your arms in response, and he envelops you in a soft, strong and comfortable hug. “Your life is precious and important. I’d much rather experience life with you, not be a reason you got hurt.”

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A/N: He's my favorite!! I think a lot of people do not actually understand his character, and portray him as simple, immature, clingy, and whiny. He's playful and fun, yes but also quite patient and calculating, among other things. His character is quite complex and he's very, very smart. For instance, during the car ride he's trying to get more information, not just flirt with the MC. XD I have THOUGHTS

#love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #lads rafayel #lnds rafayel #rafayel #l&ds rafayel #rafayel l&ds #rafayel x you #hurt/comfort #blood and injury #fanfic #I ALSO think he's one of the least jealous/clingy characters #Reading his stuff its pretty clear lol

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