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rotationalsymmetry · 2 years ago

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What would you do if you were somewhere under the LGBTQ+ umbrella, but, y’know, pretty normal apart from that, and you found out about the leathermen and the people who sleep around but like a lot and the people who try to get their families to invite more than one of their partners to weddings, and you’re like no, absolutely not, this is not us, but if you just say “ugh that’s disgusting” you’ll get shouted down for “kink shaming” or something like that, and you don’t really get what’s wrong with shaming people for gross kinks but you figured out that it’s not socially acceptable. How would you draw a line that says “those people aren’t us” without leaving yourself open to the “kink shaming” thing?

Apparently what you’d do — what works — is you’d be all “well yes of course, that’s a thing, but it’s not a LGBTQ thing, not a queer thing, not our thing” and then you’d add, because you want to make it really clear your statement can’t be challenged on social justice grounds, “because LGBTQ people are oppressed and those people are not.”

It makes so much sense seen through that lens.

I don’t know if I’m autistic as such but I have picked up on the fact that an awful lot of what most people say are flat out lies. People will treat it like a game where they hide their motivation and present themselves as believing something other than what they actually believe, and assume people on their side can see through it but the enemy will be confused and distracted. Good tactics.

Sucks for people who thought we’re all people and why should there be sides?

For people who are all “sure there are disagreements but maybe we can talk them out and find enough things we want in common that we can find something that works for everyone or nearly.” Hard to do that when people are fucking lying to you.

For people who are confused about this, counterpoints (cw this is a discussion of what counts as oppression, so expect trauma dumping ok?) (word choice note: I’m using kink/BDSM/Leather more or less interchangeably, but of course there are kinks that don’t really fall under the BDSM umbrella. BDSM and Leather are largely overlapping concepts, but someone who says they’re part of the BDSM community is relatively likely to be straight, or a bi woman who doesn’t feel especially connected to the queer community, and to consider it a recreational activity or a lifestyle, whereas someone identifying as Leather is more likely to also identify as queer and consider it an identity. I have yet to encounter a person arguing that kinksters aren’t oppressed who in any way acknowledged the Leather community as a concept.)

When conservative fuckwads want to point out how degenerate the gays are and are concerned that homosexuality itself isn’t enough, they point to the Leathermen and the guys who sleep around a lot (or dress like they want to), so clearly there’s a social hierarchy where being gay and kinky or slutty is “worse” than being gay alone.

Kinky people (gay, straight, whatever) do face discrimination. A lot of it isn’t really overt because there isn’t a mass movement for kink acceptance and generally the shitbags focus most of their energy on pushing back against people working for their rights, that’s why there’s more overt transphobia now (eg new laws about children’s sports) than there was a decade ago, but people can lose jobs over being outed as kinky, get disowned by their family, get arrested (turns out the law doesn’t recognize the difference between consensual impact play and assault unless the cops want to), lose their religious community, and lose custody of their children. That’s not systemic oppression? I know sadists who were wondering if they should kill themselves because they had violent sexual fantasies. Are we not recognizing “driven to suicide over societal attitudes about a thing about you that you can’t help” as an oppression thing!

Some people will say “well, straight kinky people don’t…�� first of all, they do, second of all, you don’t disprove oppression by noticing that it’s stronger at intersections of oppression than in oppressed in some ways/privileged in others combos.

Within the lesbian community, many have experienced being rejected from mainstream society/their family/whatever for being gay, then from the lesbian community for being kinky, due to radfem influence (so-called radical feminists — feminists who believe that patriarchy is the root of all other forms of oppression, and who in practice see sexuality primarily as a tool of oppression — are opposed to BDSM including between women.) (radical feminism is their term, you know? People who don’t like them and who don’t want them to get to frame the debate sometimes call them “sex negative feminists”, or “carceral feminists” when talking about police and prison issues, as they tend to be pro law enforcement and some of us think that isn’t very radical. But I digress.) (terfs and radfems are almost the same concept, but technically not all radfems believe trans women to be secret men who are trying to infiltrate women’s spaces etc etc.)

Ok, so, what about polyamory? People can lose custody of their children over being outed as polyamrous. People can lose jobs. Teens and young adults can be kicked out of their homes or sent to religious “counseling” to “cure” them.

I know personally when I was preparing to be a UU minister, I figured we had enough out gay and lesbian ministers in the denomination (and among my classmates, so many queers) that me being out as bi probably wasn’t going to affect my prospects much. I was very nervous about the polyamorous and kinky thing though, and with good reason. I know someone who was seeking ordination in a different liberal denomination and they were fine with her being lesbian, but when she felt that in the name of authenticity she had to come out as Leather, her congregation rejected her. She ended up continuing her pursuit of ministry through the Metropolitan Community Church, which is explicitly fine with ministers who are in the Leather community, but most denominations aren’t MCC. (Also I don’t think that would have been a good option for me personally, even if my ministry path hadn’t been derailed for other reasons.)

And my mom basically came out to me as bi as a teenager — she mentioned someone else that I was supposed to know who was partnered with a man for some time then later ended up with a woman, and said she could imagine something like that if something happened to my dad (who she’s been happily married to for forever.) And in the same breath she added that she couldn’t see having more than one partner at once, because I guess that was necessary for some reason. So I was always pretty relaxed about her finding out I liked girls but was substantially more nervous about coming out as polyamorous to her. (It was fine.)

I have been somewhat hesitant to talk about this, because my experiences is 1. mostly in the liberalest most bubbliest of liberal bubbles and 2. My experience in visibly queer relationships is quite limited. So I don’t have a lot of direct experience of homophobia, unless we’re counting things like “wow there was a near total absence of queer people on the media I consumed growing up, and the exceptions were generally in the ‘trans woman as disgusting, deceptive, dangerous, or all three’ trope” which I realize is a fairly weak point here both rhetorically and in terms of “how can I possibly know that societal attitudes towards kinksters or polyamorous people are comparable to those towards queer people if I haven’t ever experienced the more direct or violent forms of queerphobia” I don’t, but I mean it’s not like the people asserting that kinky people aren’t oppressed ever share their reasons for being so confident about that!

Oh, I did also experience homophobia in the form of my peers as a pre-teen/teen saying homophobic things around me. I did not notice a similar “let’s cast aspersions on teachers or other kids we don’t like” with kink or polyamory, but that may have just not been on people’s radars, and as an adult I have noticed that when the subject comes up most people seem to think that kink and polyamory are more extreme, more of a threat to the status quo, or in some way worse than being gay. Again, liberal bubble, so a lot of people have a live and let live attitude towards both, but my overall sense is being kinky or polyamorous (even in a m-f relationship) is considered more out there than being lesbian, gay, or bi, or at least the more easily understood sorts of trans. There is considerably more political backlash against lgbt people. However, I’m pretty sure that’s because there’s been a strong lgbt civil rights movement, and there isn’t a kink or polyamorous equivalent. There’s no large scale movement for multiple marriage (and remember when the fight for same sex marriage was on, there was a slippery slope argument that same sex marriage could lead to legal polygamy or people marrying animals, said like that, as though those were equally abhorrent ideas?) and there’s no large scale movement for kink related anti-discrimination laws — no movement to make being kinky a protected class so people can’t be fired for being outed as kinky, no movement to have BDSM included in public school sex ex classes (which clearly there shouldn’t be given the political climate, we have enough trouble getting sex mentioned in sex ed classes), no push to have polyamorous people represented in Disney movies. If there was, I imagine we’d be seeing so much more political opposition, we’re only not getting it because we’re not organized and fighting. There isn’t much overt political hatred of aces and aros or intersex people for similar reasons, it’s not that the conservatives like aces and aros and intersex people, it’s that there isn’t a movement there, it’s that they’re not going to fight as long as silence supports the idea that those aren’t things that people can even be.

It is important to consider a standard “homophobic but trying not to be obviously homophobic” stance is “ok gays can be what they are, but could they just not shove it in our faces?” Basically the idea that people being gay and pursuing same sex relationships but not being openly gay is more acceptable than, eg, a couple holding hands in public, or getting married, or whatever. Most kinky people aren’t very public about it: we talk about our “girlfriend” and not our “mistress”, we either don’t wear collars in public or make them look like normal jewelry, etc. And many kinksters are happy with that and some do think they’re hiding something important about themselves. I imagine if most kinksters stopped being discrete tomorrow we’d get a lot more overt hostility. The “kink at pride” discourse points to that, the objection isn’t people having kinks, it’s adopting publicly visible signifiers of those kinks. Likewise an awful lot of polyamorous people are either closeted to their family or just not on speaking terms with them, so a lot of people don’t even know they have people they know who are polyamorous. And hardly anyone is out as polyamorous at work. If most people who were polyamorous were polyamorous in ways that couldn’t be missed, the way anti-polyamorous sentiment gets expressed might be less presenting monogamy as the unquestioned norm and more…overtly hostile. (A note on polyamory, because apparently a lot of people don’t know this: “throuples” or other more than two person social units are not the most common way people are polyamorous. Having one main partner that you go to family holidays with and (potentially) other partners that you love and spend time with but don’t necessarily go to office parties with is quite common, and being socially single with partners that you don’t act as a social unit with is common-ish, but full on “yes I want a plus two not a plus one” is…it definitely happens (usually not with everyone being involved with everyone else) but an awful lot of polyamorous people neither have nor want multiple life partners. Or have them but lie to their families about what their relationship is. And again, many that do have a more than two person social unit that they demand that their family of origin recognizes, end up being not on speaking terms with their family of origin.

Anyways, it’s kind of driving me wild that my lived experience suggests that most people (regardless of political affiliation or sexual orientation) have a mental hierarchy where gay vanilla sex and monogamous picket fence relationships are more “normal” than straight kinky or polyamorous relationships, and then also have to hear regularly even from people who are polyamorous often that “oh but polyamorous people aren’t oppressed the way queer people are” or “oh but kinksters aren’t oppressed” and never actually explaining what they mean by that, just asserting it, as though that sense of “yeah most people think being kinky or polyamorous is more out there than being gay” is just fucking made up or something.

One way of seeing this is sex negativity — which does not mean “sex is bad” as such but does mean the belief that there is one correct way to do sex and love and every other way is wrong. There are some variants on that, but the most well known one is: the right way to have sex is to only do it with one person, that you are married to in a “straight” marriage, and anything else is bad. Also within that context there is a right way to have sex: the man penetrated the woman, he has to have an orgasm, etc.” More extreme versions of this don’t even allow for oral (which at least in the US was included in sodomy laws, you could theoretically be arrested for being a straight man who went down on your wife or vice versa. In practice of course how would anyone know? It mostly got used against gays.)

Most people have a more forgiving version of that. It’s ok to have sex before marriage, for instance. Or same sex relationships are ok. But the thing about queer relationships is they violate the old school version of that, along with old school gender roles, and a lot of conservatives have their entire worldview built on the idea that men and women have separate, complementary roles in life and you are not allowed to stray from the role assigned to you at birth. Thing is though, polyamory is also a break with that norm — old school “one man many wives” is not necessarily that huge a break, and it’s in the Bible, but gender egalitarian polyamory where one woman can have multiple partners definitely is. Part of this worldview is men feeling entitled to know that their children are biologically theirs, or rather the idea that if a man raised children that aren’t his that he’s been made a fool of and loses considerable amounts of social standing, and women having multiple male partners at one time is a massive threat to that in a way that men having multiple female partners by itself is not. And polyamory as normally practiced (in the sense of social norms — OPP’s happen but polyamorous groups generally hate on them a lot) is explicitly gender neutral and autonomy focused, people’s love lives are theirs and not a thing that belongs to their partner. The norm in polyamory is that polyamorous men are not allowed to tell female partners that some relationships are ok but others are not. That’s a threat to the “one true way” sex negative worldview.

Kink as generally practiced is also a threat. I don’t mean the contents — spanking or rope or titles or whatever — I mean the framework, the structure, the assumptions about people and the world. The fundamental assumption that BDSM rests on is consent, which is fundamentally incompatible with a worldview of “there is one right way to have sex.” (A straight couple who are doing spanking because that’s what the husband wants and the wife feels she has to agree to it are doing a thing that people who do BDSM do, but they’re not doing it in the way that the BDSM community does it.) Now, often the sex negative types also don’t like the content of BDSM, but the real threat is in the ideological foundation, that consent is the core of sexual ethics, and that it’s ok to do things because they’re what you want to do rather than because you’re following a what job should do social script.

Oddly enough sex negative people often don’t see the different ideological foundation. They assume that polyamorous people want to replace the norm of monogamy with a norm of polyamory, even though most polyamorous people are fine with peaceful coexistence. I don’t really know how conservatives see kink, but sex negative feminists also see it in terms of social norms, as something that can be forced on women rather than as something with consent and desire as its foundation. (Obviously it would be terrible if a form of sex that involves pain and humiliation became the norm! Who wants that? We don’t. We want to live and let live.)

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hanatiny · 4 years ago

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Aim To Please

a/n: I’m aware that certain kinks in this may not sit well with some people, but I have a very specific target audience for this one so :) a/n 2: happy birthday to the stressed mom Seonghwa, hope he eats well and has a good day~ <3

pairing: incubus!Seonghwa x f!reader

genre: smut, fluff

word count: 1866

warnings: consensual somnophilia, unprotected sex, noona kink, pet names, Hwa has a gun kink, he's also a whiny service top, praise kink, marking (both biting and light scratching), brief mention of overstimulation, orgasm control

-----

Seonghwa had been visiting you somewhat regularly for a couple months now. He first came to you in a dream while you were feeling lonely and then another night, when you found yourself unable to sleep, he actually physically materialised in front of you.

Incubi were said to simply come to 'their human' for sex and that was that, they would leave once they got what they wanted.

Seonghwa, however, was a little different. He had a bit of a childlike curiosity to him, ironic as it seemed for an immortal demonic creature, and you adored the way his eyes would light up like shooting stars every time you'd talk to him and tell him about your day or simply recount a memory you happened to be fond of.

You grew attached to each other rather quickly and easily, a strong emotional bond forming between the two of you that one wouldn't necessarily think possible.

And so, when he arrived this particular night, he couldn’t help but pout a little when he found you fast asleep in your bed. Then again he couldn’t really blame you, it was sometime between 2 and 3am after all. In all honestly, he was relieved to see you get some rest, knowing how you struggled at times.

He visited you for a different reason tonight though; it was his creation day - or birthday, a word he learned from you that meant essentially the same thing in human terms, which he used interchangeably.

He wanted to celebrate it with you and to do so, he’d either have to wait until you'd awaken on your own accord, or wake you up himself. He technically wanted to do neither but he was an incubus, so he did the one thing that he knew how to do.

Hesitating for a beat, then, Seonghwa's face blossomed a cherry red when he recalled how you had previously informed in a conversation that he had been given explicit permission to have his way with you whenever he pleased.

Feeling the mattress dip beneath his weight, he carefully maneuvered himself onto the mattress to hover above you. Seonghwa, careful and gentle as ever, balanced himself on one hand while lifting the other to brush a few strands of hair out of your face.

Your expression was peaceful as you slept, head tilted slightly to the side, and he couldn't help but coo softly at the sight while he briefly lost himself in his own thoughts.

How would he ever tell you that he had fallen in love with you, someone belonging in a different world...? He had yet to figure it out.

He shook his emotional dilemma off in favor of trailing his lips down from your jaw over your neck and collarbone with slow, deliberate kisses. You stirred slightly with a soft hum, remaining asleep.

Seonghwa’s soft lips attached themselves to your skin to gently suck a marking near your shoulder. Once satisfied, he pulled back and his hands went to free your sleeping form from the blanket it was covered with.

He froze in his tracks for a brief moment, not having expected you to be dressed exclusively in an oversized t-shirt. He bit his lip and toyed with the hem of the piece of fabric that still covered your body before pushing it up to under your breasts for easier access to where he wanted to be.

His hands established a gentle but firm grip on your thighs and parted them for him while he nipped all over the skin of your stomach, trying to distract himself and not turn bright red once more from the realization of your lack of underwear.

Like the gentle man he was, Seonghwa glided his fingertips over your inner thighs with featherlight touches and if it wasn’t for the airy giggle you let out, having known you were rather ticklish, he would have thought you couldn’t feel him at all.

You leaned into his touch slightly out of instinct when his fingers ghosted over your slit to see if you were wet enough to take him - he knew it could be painfully if either party isn’t aroused to a more than sufficient level. But, to his relief, you were practically dripping, which led him to believe you may have been having a wet dream. Little did he know, you had been in a limbo between asleep and awake ever since his hands first came into contact with your heated skin.

Seonghwa was way too focused on his task to notice your state of half-consciousness, and he didn’t even connect the dots when you mewled out loud after he had discarded his pants and gradually pushed his length into your entrance.

Once he bottomed out, he whined softly as he began to rock his hips into you and it surprised you time and time how gentle he’d start off with you - as if you were a porcelain doll and he was afraid of breaking you - and that you’d always, without fail, remind him that he didn’t have to be, that you could take it.

There was a tenderness in his actions that you couldn’t quite place. You refused to believe that the root of it was love.

It was when his voice went high-pitched with a shaky “N-noona..~” that your eyes flew open, thankful for his lack of focus on you while he moaned softly, your hand blindly fumbling for something under the pillow next to you.

Your fingers finally took hold of and wrapped around the cold metal item, pulling it out from where you hid it until mere seconds ago, and Seonghwa’s hips stuttered slightly when he heard a familiar soft click, but he only snapped his gaze back forward to look at you wide-eyed as he felt a gun barrel pressed to the side of his head.

“Noona, I-”

“Hush, sugar. You’ll be good and listen to every word I say, yeah~?” You smirked up at him as he nodded and let out a desperate whine of affirmation.

It was a peculiar kink of him to have to want to call you noona, you mused, considering that he was a century old creature and you physically would not be able to top that as a human being. But you figured that it wouldn’t hurt to indulge him, considering that no one in his past seemed to have done so based on his delight when you complied and agreed.

Whimpers from the man above you pulled you back into the present reality as you watched him struggle to keep up a rhythm with the gun pressed to his head. You cooed at how good of a job he was doing regardless, “Such a good boy, fucking noona good just how he knows she likes it...~”

Seonghwa cried out, his face flushed because of how he submissive he acted, contrary to how he usually at least tried to appear to be.

“Mhm, my pretty babyboy figured he could use my body for his own pleasure, similar to how the rest of his kind does hm~? It’s cute, really.” You purred, unable to stop a moan from slipping from your lips while your grip on the loaded gun tightened slighly, although you made sure to keep your fingers away from the trigger just in case.

“You make noona feel so good, sugar, just like you’re meant to...~” You smiled up at Seonghwa with a so obviously deceiving sweetness that made his pouty lips tremble slightly, a few strands of his messy hair sticking to his slightly sweaty forehead.

You knew the telltale signs of when he was about to cum, your first trist with the demon having been what felt like years ago although it only lied back a few months.

“I-I... Noona, ‘m already close...~” He panted softly above you, causing you to coo as he twitched inside of you, a smile tugging at you lips.

“Mhm I can tell, baby~ You can hold it in for a little longer for noona, no?” Your voice carried a lilt as you hummed and it unsettled Seonghwa that he couldn’t quite place it, but he nodded eagerly nonetheless, not willing to even so much as risk disappointing you.

“Y-yeah!” He gasped softly when you suddenly wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him even deeper inside of you, your back arching as you did so, “Good boy...~ Oh fuck, right there-”

You hissed lowly under your breath, having unintentionally pushed the tip of your lover’s cock right into the spot that would make you come undone. Seonghwa whined loudly and desperately above you as he continued his almost frenzied thrusts into your heat, his head thrown back and his body on the verge of overstimulation when you found your climax around his length.

It was convenient for him to be so well-endowed, you mused, since he was able to hit the most pleasurable spots deep inside of you with ease.

“P-please noona, I-I can’t-”

“Cum, Seonghwa.”

And just like that, with two simple words, he let go and released himself inside of you, a soft moan drifting from you at the feeling of warmth spreading through your body.

Seonghwa panted softly as he slowly came down from his high, reaching to caress your cheek as if in a trance while you dropped the hand holding the gun onto a pillow next to the two of you before letting go of the item entirely.

Having caught your breath, you nudged him to roll over, which he willingly did after carefully pulling out of you.

You turned to face him, tenderly threading a hand through his hair as he pouted at you.

“Y/n-”

“Shh, I know Hwa. I should get cleaned up... but I’m too tired, so I’ll just shower in the morning.” You smiled reassuringly, to which he relaxed as well and wordlessly wrapped his arm around you to pull you close and cuddle you.

“Happy birthday...~” You murmured before drifting off, leading Seonghwa to coo softly at you in endearment as he held you close to himself protectively.

You were truly the only gift he could ever want and need.

When you woke up the next morning, it was in an entirely different position than the one you fell asleep in. Shifting in your bed, you realized that your supernatural companion had cleaned both himself and you in the night before making sure to dress you appropriately so you wouldn’t be cold.

You found your gun on the nightstand next to you a few moments after, along with a small note Seonghwa must’ve written in a hurry if the handwriting on it was anything to go by.

‘Thought I’d allow myself to clean you up so you could stay under your comfy blankets a little longer. Hope you don’t mind :)’

There were a few hearts scribbled all over the piece of paper, and your head fell back against your pillow with a knowing smile and a happy sigh.

You were glad the incubus seemed to reciprocate your feelings, and you’d be sure to tell him so when he would return.

“I love you too, Hwa.”

----- Taglist:

@cometoceantrenches @ddeonghwva @galaxteez @innosintsan @latte-fairytaekwoon @little-precious-baby @multidreams-and-desires @nightqueennyx @vocalyunho @yunhoes-twancings-nsfw @yunhoiseyecandy

Network tag:

@8makes1teamnet

#8makes1teamnet #ateez smut #seonghwa smut #ateez seonghwa smut #seonghwa fluff #someone please appreciate my pun-#hanatiny writes #park seonghwa smut

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weelittleweasley · 4 years ago

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Fun Gone Wrong | Draco x Reader

Requested by anon: You and Draco’s favorite pastime as a couple is pranking the Golden Trio, but it seems as if the Trio is fed up with your shenanigans. The Trio implores the Weasley Twins help to get back at you both, but in the end, someone gets hurt.

Warnings: mild language, fainting, and use of m*dbl**d

Word Count: 3k

Huddling behind the walls of the corridors, you and Draco hide yourselves from the approaching Weasley and Potter. You bit your lower lip to muffle your hushed giggles of excitement as Draco held a finger to his lip, telling you to be quiet. If they knew of your presence, the prank would surely fail.

You and Draco often found yourself like this in your downtime; pulling little pranks on Potter and his friends. It started as Draco doing it with Crabbe and Goyle, but after he started dating you, you expressed your interest in joining him. Then it came a daily activity for you both. You both figured it was little payback after all of the pranks Fred and George had gotten away with over the years against Draco.

The chatter between Harry and Ron became louder, signaling that they were close. “Would you like to do the honors?” Draco whispers in your ear as you peek around the corner.

Turning to your boyfriend, you smile, “I’d love nothing more, Mr. Malfoy.” Draco smiles as you pull your wand from the waistband of your uniform skirt. You carefully peer around the corner before giving a wave of your wave and reciting a charm. “Immobulus!” you cast the charm as Ron and Harry instantly freeze.

Their faces are frozen in mid-conversation, but their eyes look around them in sheer panic. You and Draco start to hysterically laugh, emerging from the other side of the wall. Harry and Ron’s eyes are darting between each other and then you and Draco. “Well, what do we have here? Potter and Weasel-bee? What a delightful surprise!” Draco claps his hands together. “You two look even more ridiculous frozen than normally. I didn’t think that was possible,” Draco drapes an arm around your shoulder. “We’d love to stay and chat, but I’m afraid (Y/N) and I have to get to Potions class. Wouldn’t want Professor Snape getting mad at tardiness!”

You and Draco start to walk away before an idea pops into your head. “Hold on, darling, I don’t think I’m quite done yet...” you stop in your tracks and walk back over to the frozen Harry and Ron. “Sorry, boys. I can’t not take this opportunity to completely and utterly embarrass you. Consider it payback for the last Quidditch match!” you exclaim happily.

Before Draco can ask you what you were doing, you pants Harry and Ron in two swift motions. So now, there they stood, frozen with their dress pants dangling around their ankles. As you do this, Draco lets out a loud laugh, hunched over in laughter. It was funny, sure, but it wasn’t until you noticed that Ron Weasley’s boxer shorts were quidditch themed, but more specifically had members of the Bulgarian National Quidditch team on them. Victor Krum was quite literally on his bum. This sends you into fits of giggles as you run away from the scene and grab Draco's hand. “Okay, now let’s get out of here before someone see us!” you giggle, running down the corridors to Potions class with your boyfriend.

About fifteen minutes later, whilst in the middle of class, Ron and Harry stumble in with Hermione not too far behind. She mumbles something about being late to class before smacking them both upside the head. You hold back a smile and look at Draco from across your work station who allows a shit eating grin dance on his lips. He wasn't very discreet when it came to these things.

“Granger, Weasley, and Potter,” Professor Snape calls out from the front of the classroom. “You’re fifteen minutes late to my class.”

Hermione tries to open up her mouth to explain the reasoning of their tardiness, but Snape holds up a hand not wanting to hear her measly excuse. Snape’s little gesture to Hermione makes Ron frustrated and then say, “It’s not our fault. Malfoy and (Y/N) put a charm on Harry and I and we had to wait for someone to stumble along and help us. Hermione just happened to be coming down that hall and helped us!”

Professor Snape seems unimpressed. Plus, he has no reasoning to believe a Weasley excuse, considering all the bogus ones his older twin brother have made and gotten away with. “Ten points from Gryffindor,” Snape declares earning a groan from the trio. “Each,” he adds which just makes Ron scoff. “And another five thanks to Mr. Weasley’s little outburst. Now take your seats before I decide to take away any more points.”

The trio of friends begrudgingly walks to their seats in the back of the classroom, glaring at you and Draco as you happily work on your assignments for the class. “Such a shame. Thirty-five points down the drain,” Draco huffs under his breath.

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Ron sneers which earns a warning glare from Professor Snape. Ron looks at Snape and then back at you and Draco, scoffing before starting his own work.

That was the thing about you and Draco’s pranks. You usually got away with them. As compared to Fred and George’s pranks, people knew when they pulled a prank since it was so public and they made a show of their pranks. You and Draco pulled your pranks in private as to have no witnesses, so you could get away with them. The twins should take a few pages out of your book.

As they work on their assignments, Harry huffs, “I’m tired of getting ripped on by them two.” The trio looks at you and Draco happily doing your work, Draco stealing a kiss when Snape isn’t looking at you two. “They need a taste of their own medicine. Especially Malfoy since he’s been bothering us longer than (Y/N) has,” Harry tells his friends.

Hermione continues to work on the assignment as Harry and Ron continue the conversation. “Maybe they need a little prank pulled on them,” Ron offers. Harry furrows his brows as Hermione mutters and Oh, dear. “Maybe I can implore the help of Fred and George. They may have something up their sleeves...” Ron says with a smile as Harry starts to join in with a mischievous smile.

The two boys look at Hermione as if to say, What do you say? “Oh, no. Leave me out of this. I’m not getting myself into more trouble after this little stunt. I have a perfect record to maintain. I don’t need anything else on my plate,” Hermione reprimands the boys as she continues to work diligently.

“Oh, come on, ‘Mione. Imagine how good it’s gonna feel when they finally get a taste of their own medicine. Especially Malfoy. And you know Fred and George. They’ll make it a spectacle,” Ron wiggles his brows. The boy look at Hermione, eyes begging her to agree to this. With a sigh, she gives in, earning a yes and high five between the boys. “I’ll let the boys know.” In between classes, Harry and Ron had managed to convince the twins to help them out with pulling off a successful prank. They were both hesitant at first, not wanting to get involved with Malfoy, but after much persistence (and the promise of three galleons each), Fred and George obliged. “So, what are we trying to do here? Tasteful prank? Embarrassing prank? We need details in order to execute this properly,” George asks, folding his arms.

Ron looks at Harry, expecting him to know what he wants since it was his idea to do this. “Well,” Harry starts. “Something that’ll make Malfoy’s blood boil. Something that would get on his very last nerve.”

Fred looks at George with a devious little smile, “I think we have just the thing. We’ve been saving this one for a good victim. I think Malfoy and (Y/L/N) may just be the perfect match. What do you say, Georgie?” he nudges his brother who gives him a handshake. “It’ll be ready at dinner time in the Great Hall.” Before the trio can thank the twins, they are already running to the dormitories to get the prank ready.

----------

Soon enough, the dinner hour rolls around and Harry, Ron, and Hermione are all sitting at their table, sipping on pumpkin juice in anxious anticipation. They watch you as you walk into the Great Hall with Pansy Parkinson, laughing about something, arms laced with each other. “Where the bloody hell are Fred and George?” Ron shifts in his seat.

“Speak of the devils,” Hermione says as she spots Fred and George duck into the Great Hall behind you and Pansy. Fred and George walk to where the trio sits. “Has it been done? Why are they coming over here?” she anxiously asks, earning a hush from Ron. “Did you idiots do it?” Hermione asks.

George scoffs, “Impatient, are we?” Hermione rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest. “Before dinner was set up, Freddie and I snuck in her and put the potion in the cup.”

Harry gives the twins a confused look. “But how do you know which cup to put it in?” he asks.

“Fourth chair from the end, that’s where she always sits. Sandwiched between Draco and Zabini and across from Parkinson,” Fred simply states before drinking his own pumpkin juice.

The trio gives confused looks to each other. “She?” Ron clarifies.

“(Y/N),” both twins say in synch. “That’s who we’re pranking, right?” George asks. Hermione’s eyes go wide and Ron starts to nervously stutter. Harry puts his head in his hands. “You said you wanted to get back at Malfoy so we decided what better way than to go through his girlfriend!”

Ron smacks his brothers upside the heads, earning an ow! from the both of them. “We said do it to Malfoy, not (Y/N)! It’s not like they are interchangeable, you gits!”

Fred and George look at each other worried for a moment before shrugging. “Too late now,” Fred says, watching you grab your cup and taking a sip. “Ladies and gentlemen, the show as begun.”

As you sit across from Pansy, you grab your cup. “Draco isn’t here yet? That’s odd, he’s usually always here first...” you trail off, lifting the cup to your lips. You gulp down a large sip of the sweet juice.

“He was in the common room with the boys last time I saw him. Something about planning another prank on Potter,” she giggles.

As Pansy talks, you suddenly feel your finger tips start to tingle and your head starts to reel and feel heavy. Your face becomes hot, but the rest of your body is cold. “(Y/N), you don’t look so good, are you feeling alright?” Daphne asks from a few seats down. You don’t answer her question, you open up your mouth, but nothing comes out. You suddenly feel your head become the weight of a boulder and your eyes close as you faint backwards off your seat and onto the floor, earning gasps and calls for help from witnesses.

“Bloody hell!” Ron squeals with fear as the entire Gryffindor table watched you faint. “You gave her a potion that made her faint?!” Ron exclaims. “We’re in deep trouble now...” Fred and George look at each other concerned. “It wasn’t supposed to do that! It was supposed to be a Fungiface Potion! Her face was supposed to break out in fungi and look all funny! It wasn’t supposed to do that! I told you to be careful with the measurements, Fred!” George smacks his twin, who just smacks him back as this soon erupts into a fight between the two of them.

“Would you two stop this right now? A girl has fainted due to your lack of intelligence and common sense! You have to bring her to Madame Pomfrey!” Hermione exclaims, rising from her seat. “Now!”

Stumbling to their feet, the trio watch as Fred and George run over to the Slytherin table to where you had just fainted. The twins babble about who should pick her up before Fred just gets frustrated and throws your limp body over his right shoulder. The trio hears George mutter something about measuring and the potion as the bicker, bringing you out of the Great Hall and to Madame Pomfrey. “What idiots...” Ron huffs as Hermione sinks into her seat again.

The severity of the situation hits the trio. They had just been the root of why Draco Malfoy’s girlfriend was now in the medical wing. Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy who was a part of one of the most powerful wizard families. This was a problem.

“Do we tell Draco?” Harry asks.

Ron scoffs, “And give ourselves up like that? If I learned anything from my brothers, you never confess until you have been accused and the other person has evidence of what you’ve done!”

Hermione rolls her eyes, “He’s gonna know we had something to do with whether we tell him or not! He’s not a fool.”

With that, Draco walks into the Great Hall with Zabini, Goyle, and Crabbe. The four boys are all smiling as they walk over to the table. Draco immediately notices your absence and says, “Where’s (Y/N)? She’s never late.” Pansy and Daphne gulp and look at Draco with nervous smiles. “What happened?” the concern rises in his voice.

Pansy clears her throat, “She fainted...something was in her pumpkin juice.” Draco’s eyes widen as he looks around, trying to see if you were somewhere in the Great Hall resting. “The Weasley twins took her to the hospital wing. They were muttering something about a potion?”

That’s when it hits Draco. “The Weasley twins?” he angrily asks as Pansy flinches. Draco looks a few tables over and see the trio anxiously looking at Draco. When he meets their eyes, the trio quickly looks away and pretends to be preoccupied in conversation. “Of course,” he says through gritted teeth before launching over to the Gryffindor table, Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle not far behind. “Potter!” Draco yells as he approaches the table.

Harry gulps and rises to his feet, ready to defend himself and his friends.

“You think that’s funny? Poisoning my girlfriend in order to get back at the little prank we pulled this morning, eh? You little prick!” Draco grabs Harry by the collar and starts shaking him. “You’re so lucky that I wasn’t here to witness it. But now that I am here, I’m going to beat the living shit out of you.”

Ron and Hermione run around to Harry and pull him out of Draco’s grip. “We didn’t poison (Y/N), the twins made a mistake when trying to concoct a different potion! It was an accident!” Hermione defends Harry, holding his arm as Ron takes his other.

Draco spits, “Shut up, you filthy little mud blood!”

Ron’s face contorts with anger before screaming, “Don’t you dare call her that!”

Harry and Hermione now hold Ron back before he tries to send a punch to Draco’s jaw. “You stay away from her, you hear me? If you even think about her, I will have my father involved in this business. And he’ll take care of you three himself. Bloody pricks...” Draco pushes people out of his way as he runs to the hospital wing to get to your side immediately. He hated that he wasn’t here earlier to bring you to the hospital wing himself. He hated that he wasn’t at your side right now.

Meanwhile, you sat in the hospital wing with Madam Pomfrey and Fred and George explain what happened with much hesitation. Instead of being cross with them or wanting revenge, you laughed. A failed potion? No harm in that. It was a valiant attempt at revenge. A meek, feeble one, but an attempt nonetheless. The twins were shocked that you were laughing. “I can appreciate the attempt, boys,” you laugh as the noticeably relax. “I mean, still not cool that I was the victim and I will be getting you back for this, but I’ll shake your hand.”

You shake hands with the twins as you lightly laugh. “We should probably get going before Malfoy comes in, yeah?” George says.

“I think that would be best,” you nod your head as the twins apologize again and open the doors to leave just to have Draco storm into the hospital wing. “Hi, darling,” you smile at Draco who lets out a sigh of relief.

Draco runs to your side, “Thank Godric, you’re alright.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’m going to lose it the next time I see the Weasley twins,” Draco huffs and that’s when Fred and George quite literally run out of the hospital wing, making you laugh. “What bloody idiots. I can’t believe they did this to you. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you, love. I wish it was me and not you.”

You place your hand on Draco’s cheek. “Don’t be silly, Draco. I’m fine. The twins were trying to make a Fungiface potion, but forgot an ingredient and miss measured and instead made a Sleeping Drought potion. I woke up the instant I got to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey says there's nothing wrong with me. I just need to eat some food and drink water. I can leave when we are ready,” you caress his face with your hand. “It was all in good fun.”

“I love how naive you are,” he sighs. “It’s not good fun, darling. Those idiots were trying to get back at me through you and I don’t want to ever see you hurt. I would never forgive myself.”

“And I love how intense you are,” you repeat. “They weren’t trying to kill me, Draco. I’m right here. I’m quite alright. Now how about we just put this behind us and go eat, okay?” You kiss his lips sweetly as Draco melts into your touch.

He smiles at you sweetly. “Alright. Only because you say you’re fine. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to beat the shit out of Potter for this.”

“Alright, darling. We’ll think of other pranks on our way to the Great Hall, yeah?” you laugh as you climb out of the hospital bed.

Draco laces your fingers together. “You read my mind.”

#Draco Malfoy #Draco #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy smut #draco smut #Draco Malfoy Headcanon #draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader #draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy imagine #draco imagine #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x slytherin #draco malfoy x slytherin reader #draco x reader imagine #HP #harry potter fanfic #harry potter

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hes-writer · 4 years ago

Text

Reign (3)

Summary: harry sees something he's supposed to have

Warnings: angst in the beginning, angst in the middle, angst near the end

Word Count: 4881 words

A/N: @devilinbetweenthesheet-s : dont cheat and don’t do drugs, kids

Tarnish (1) . Halo (2) . Reign (3) . Trial (4) .

Errors (5) . Ruin (6) . Crumble (7)

Error Taglist

____

A writer that cannot write is dead.

When one loses the ability to tell their stories and anecdotes through the mere action of swirling words together to create an imaginable atmosphere of real-world fantasy; they are dead. A writer recovering from the mundane and mediocre way of penning experiences to bounce back into what they used to be is difficult. It is easier to free fall and drown in the depths of despair. The moment thoughts and rumination fog up to form a blurry image of conviction is a warning sign, blaring at the back of their minds and sometimes even in their faces.

Harry is a writer--or, he was. Picking up the pen to style the words lingering in his head used to be as easy as blinking; quick and natural. Now, the words claw at the swell of his throat, trying to spit an adjective to describe the way he felt. It was at the tip of his tongue, waiting to be lathed into existence. It did not matter if his cognition was mingled with various chemicals aimed to be able to feel happiness.

He was sober but he had trouble placing his finger on why it was so strenuous to narrate his feelings throughout the breakup. Being high or drunk was never the answer for him. Weed made him tired and made him have a case of cottonmouth. Harry learned from a young age that he should only ever engage with alcohol if he was in a mindset and setting that catered to increase existing good vibes. He thought that maybe he was in an odd phase of perceiving the opposite, and so he intoxicated himself enough to understand that it didn’t matter if he was soaked head-to-toe in sobriety or whizzed out of his mind by the amber liquid swirling in the glass in his hand. But that wasn’t the circumstance. It also didn’t matter if he was grasping his favourite pen to write--because it was comfortable--or tapping his calloused thumbs against his phone keypad. Hell, it didn’t make a difference when he sat down and prepared his typewriter to indulge in a headspace of vintage songwriting. Maybe that would help.

It didn’t.

He had stories to tell. Everything was laid out in misty overcast yet Harry’s great ideas morphed into gentle mistakes, harsh mistakes and discoveries that had him almost ripping his hair out of the roots of his scalp. When he felt the wave of his ocean-thoughts rise and peek where the sand shifted, his fingers were ready to move and discern for the eyes to see. But with each fritter, he couldn’t seem to get even two paragraphs in to decide that it was utter shit.

Harry was old enough to understand that slumping on the wet sand was a part of life. Sometimes picking up a fistful of grains and throwing them back to the sea was a great way to release frustration. But it seemed like this plunge of his ability to write was a hole of quicksand. He was trying his hardest to displace himself as swiftly as possible but it only made his scenario worse. The muddy sand clung unto his legs like sticky glue, heftier with each effort to leave. He wanted to move on. He wanted to forget everything that occurred in the past four years. Harry wanted to erase Y/N from his life because she wasn’t around anymore to bring those memories back to sparkly existence.

What he needed to do was nestle himself into a certain depth, calmly, in order to pull a limb out and ensure that his progress on the so-called ‘moving on’ did not have any drawbacks. Until then, he cannot possibly create songs that he was well-known for if he wasn’t patient enough.

He wanted so badly to tell his side of the story. Harry craved to think as clearly as he did when he told Y/N about his plan for their future. Admitting to his feelings was a hard route. Sure, he can be vulnerable but it took a great deal of convincing on his part to immerse himself in the deepest parts of his brain to understand why he felt the way he did. He usually had the means of songwriting to help him out but that obviously wasn’t working out that good for him.

___

Harry was packing the rest of Y/N’s things in boxes to be picked up later in the afternoon. He was annoyed at first at how she depended on him to fold her clothes properly instead of doing the bundle of the work herself. But he guessed that she didn’t want to be around him for longer than she had to. To be frank, he also did not want to indulge in what might turn into an argument if they spoke about the reason for their breakup. It was just a bit confusing because he had an urge to still want her around despite their less than likely situation.

Torture. If Harry had one chance to describe the way he felt right now; it was torture. With every nook of Y/N’s side of the closet emptying into brown, cardboard boxes--he physically how much she had integrated her life with his. How much space she took up in his life. How his clothes and her clothes were so interchanged between them that he couldn’t decide if the gray pull-over was actually his or hers. And in a moment of selfishness did he tuck it away for his safe-keeping despite seeing the tag imprinted on the inside; a shop that he hadn’t set foot in so it was a guarantee that it was hers.

Her scent embedded in the thin threads of each fabric wafted to his nose; each with a new wave of memories engulfing his senses as if each piece garnered a specific scent tailored to a specific event. Like her sunflower sundress--it smelled of fresh flowers as if the print was a scratch and sniff that released a fragrance. Or their DIY-ed tie-dye shirt of pastel blue and cotton candy pink. It was a matching piece made out of the cheap dye and a simple white tee but it was theirs. Things like these made Harry want to yell in frustration because every time he thought that he was completely over her-- Y/N appears out of visibly nowhere and towers over him.

Seeing her for the first time in days was a breath of relief. She looked fine. Glowing even, and Harry did not know what to make of it. As sadistic as it sounded, he was expecting dry-stained tears and a birds’ nest of hair trampling her head. Instead, Y/N was dressed for comfort in her baggy jeans and an even looser sweater covering her body. Her lips were drawn in a thin line, giving him a nod in greeting as he gestured to the boxes littering the floor.

Harry offered to help--it was the least he could do. And somehow, silence protruded from the tense atmosphere, begging to be cut by a knife yielded through their voices nipping at each others’ emotions.

“Let go of my damn hand,” Y/N stated, her hard stare could turn Harry into stone. He just wanted her to listen before she left.

He shook his head in denial of her request, tightening his grip further. “No. Listen to me, Y/N,”

“What do you possibly have to say that will change anything between us?”

And maybe it was her fault for assuming that he wanted to fix things. The sliver of hope thinly dressed behind closed lids enabled her to think that maybe he was going to say that he wanted to make things work again. That he had broken up with Camille and he realized what a stupid he had done throwing away everything they built up to for the past four years for an affair that couldn’t quench the thirst of his desire to have a family.

Harry sighed, a shadow of mischievous smirk painted on his lips. But maybe it was Y/N’s sight in deception because she could never see Harry as anything other than sweet and kind Harry incapable of hurting a fly.

“What? I don’t intend to. We’re broken. We’re beyond fixing,”

The hitch in her breath was as sharp as the stare he was searing her with. Forcing her to please understand that this would be their last conversation--if time and fate were on their side. “You’re not something I would take the time to handle,”

“Stop saying shit you don’t mean, Harry” Y/N rolled her eyes in annoyance. His macho act was barely an act and more like a stage curtain easily pushed with a flick of a wrist.

“Things I don’t mean?”

“You heard me,” She crossed her arms over his chest in defence, leaning against the closed trunk. “Say what you will but our love was real. Don’t make me seem like I’m crazy. Don’t tell me that I’m a mistake,” Her voice was filled with confidence because she knew the affection that Harry diffused.

The cradles of his palm at the small of her back when they had to walk past a crowd. The subtle graze of the back of his fingers caressing the bare skin of her arm. Kisses pressed to her temple as she read a novel and swirling fingertips twirling her hair. These were acts of love that happened nearly every day in their relationship. A routine that felt different if it wasn’t done to or with each other.

Exasperatedly, Harry felt the same itching crawling up his spine. His ego ballooning into a delicate size and one more word from Y/N’s lush lips would have him on his hands and knees, begging for her back.

“This, us, was a fuckin’ mistake,” Harry’s accent thunked heavily in her cochlea, practically spitting the words out of his mouth as if they were poisonous. Ringed fingers gesticulated the space between them to emphasize how much of a misunderstanding they truly were. “I should’ve known the second things went further than planned,”

Y/N felt her heart drop to her full stomach. The feeling so nauseating that she instinctively palmed her belly over the fabric to protect her little baby from his harsh words. Even though they weren’t directed towards anyone but Y/N. She didn’t think that their unborn child deserved scrutiny from their own father.

“You don’t mean that, Harry.”

Because how could he? Not when he emulated sincerity through his syrupy voice. Not when he spent hours loving on her tummy and spoke to it like he would if she were pregnant. Especially not when every kiss from him felt like a buzz of electricity coursing through her veins because he was the main distributor of her happiness.

Harry truly was an asshole for making her hope and wonder of what the future held when he was unsure himself. He did want a family. That was a statement in all its truthfulness. What he wasn’t sure about was if he wanted a family with Y/N. He could have a family; kids of his own in his own time. But Y/N didn’t have to necessarily be the mother. So was he besotted with the concept of family and marriage regardless of who it was with?

“But I do,”

The rain started drizzling in frequent spurts, planting a fat droplet on her cheek that could be argued as a tear escaping Y/N’s eye. It hurt a lot to hear that from him. The man of her dreams blatantly denying each sugary word because his plans had changed.

“You’re a goddamn mistake is what you are,’

“Why are you. . .saying all these things to me? Are you trying to hurt me?” The shakiness of Y/N’s tone had Harry swallowing his words down his strep throat.

He shook his head in disagreement, “No, I’m not. ‘M just tryna make you see my side. So you can understand,” His head dipped to the side, softening his tone yet stern as though he was speaking to a child.

And that was one of the reasons why Y/N didn’t believe his all-too stoic demeanour about her. Harry was great at making others see his side regardless of how much in the wrong he was.

So why was he struggling?

___

Needless to say, he wasn’t very respectful towards Y/N any other time afterwards. He had unblocked her number months after blocking it at one point and demanded answers that he didn’t have the right to know. In retrospect, Harry was embarrassed by the way he acted. He did cheat on her and suddenly he was a saint because she moved on quicker than he thought she would? Unbelievable.

In his defence, the night he became the drunk caller was the same night he fought with Camille about having children; having a family they can call their own. Ever since that discussion did Harry notice a dispatch in their relationship. It was like they were aware of a missing link that had disappeared in their connection, but neither one of them wanted to be the one to bring it up. Harry supposed that now that Camille knew what he wanted (and vice versa)--she was feeling the pressure of giving in to him. Don’t get him wrong, Harry absolutely wanted a family and he thought that Camille was the right partner to build it with. However, he couldn’t help the voice at the back of his mind slyly whispering that he had forced her to give him what he wanted for the sake of saving their failing relationship.

___

It had been two and a half years since he mildly and miserably accepted that his dream family was being erased like a pencil on paper.

The first year; Harry still clung to the obscure hope that Camille might change her mind of having kids. Many fights sprouted between the two of them concluding in them sleeping at different places for weeks on end until they eventually crawled back to each other like an invisible string. The second-year; Harry brought up the idea of adoption. It was a hard choice for him as he desperately wanted kids of his own. A boy that looked like him and his love or a little girl that smiled at him with deep dimples mirroring his own.

And Harry liked to think that he was just on the edge of convincing Camille to consider the option when his tour was scheduled a few months after. A new dealbreaker was that Harry wasn’t going to be around much to watch and nurture the little bub they might’ve adopted. It was a sudden intrusion to think about since Harry was good with kids. He knew that. That was why he had three godchildren of his own. But what hit him the most was how sure Camille sounded when she yelled at him about leaving for months at a time and returning for a bit, only to leave again. Now, Harry hadn’t considered that part. But surely he will be ready to choose between a family and his career, right? When the time comes, he thought.

___

It pained Harry to admit that his relationship with Camille was dwindling down the drain. The knowledge that there was no future--the one that Harry envisioned--for them was getting more and more real each passing day.

A late-night grocery trip was one of the many examples that had Harry rethinking his actions for the past couple of years. It was the time period where night owls arose and barely any customers littered the aisles. Still, Harry made sure to keep his hoodie up to shield his face.

Camille had an early flight to Milan in just a few hours later that day and she wanted to purchase some things to bring with her; in case they weren’t available in the country. So here they were at three in the morning.

As Camille walked ahead of him in her sweatpants and a plain tee, Harry couldn’t help but let his eyes flicker to the clothing section to his right The first-floor space was decorated with pastel blues and pinks; a stroller was displayed with a price would not make a dent in Harry’s bank account.

“‘M just gonna grab somethin’ over here, Cam,” Harry muttered as he pointed a thumb behind him. She nodded, “Meet me at the produce? Need to get you some fruits,”

Harry felt guilt thudding his chest because although he was losing feelings he thought were written in stone, Camille appeared to care for him the same way she always had.

He walked to the brightly lit area, puffing his cheek as a cute onesie caught his eye, “You’re so golden” with the word ‘golden’ printed in a shiny, yellow glimmer. He smiled at the thought of baby angel cooing at him as he tickled her tummy. Harry passed by the shoes next, picking up a pair barely the size of his palm. His mind flashed back to a conversation with Y/N years ago,

___

“I’m just saying,” Y/N took a bite of a pickle she held on her left hand, “Baby shoes have no business being that expensive,”

Harry chuckled from his place across the counter, “Babies need shoes too, love,’

She grabbed her fork and stabbed a piece of strawberry from her bowl, “I didn’t say the don’t need shoes. For tiny things, they could at least be a bit cheaper,”

Harry watched as she munched on a pickle on her left and took a bite of a strawberry on the other. His tongue poked out in a gag at the odd combination, resorting in glare and a huff from Y/N.

“You should try it instead of judging me,’

“No, thank you. Watching you eat it is enough for me,’

___

Harry craned his head at each aisle, hoping to find Camille and to distract himself from the endless Y/N related thoughts that somehow returned to his brain. He needed his girlfriend to remind him that he cannot just knock on Y/N’s door and ask her about the baby she has. If he could hold them for a bit because his baby fever was through the roof.

Locating the produce section, Harry whistled mindlessly as he searched for a blonde head of hair, failing to notice that there was a basket in front of his feet. He had kicked it, jolting him out of his thoughts in a hurry.

A man with brown hair sporting an outfit similar to his (sweats and a hoodie), chuckled at him as Harry leaned down to retrieve the gray basket filled with a jar of pickles.

“Sorry man,” Harry muttered, holding the handles up for the man to carry.

“It’s alright, it happens,” The guy had not seen his face yet, too busy inspecting the carton of strawberries.

He decided to continue the conversation, “Strawberries and pickles? Odd combo, huh,” Harry was briefly reminded of Y/N’s obsession with the two rival products.

“Yeah, m’lady loves ‘em. Had a craving in the middle of the night. She’s in the car right now with our lil bubba,”

Harry’s heart fluttered at the mention of a baby. He needed to get his rails in check. He cannot keep having his heart bursting with adoration at the mere mention of a baby.

“I’m Connor,” He said, finally facing Harry after choosing the best carton.

“I'm--,”

“Harry!” Both men turned their heads towards Camille carrying a basket full fruits and green veggies, “Got you some stuff to blend for your smoothies,”

Connor squinted his eyes at the couple and Harry internally screamed because he knew that he and Camille had been recognized. “Harry. Yeah, I know you,” The sudden hostility made Harry confused as Connor grasped his basket from him in a harsh manner, heading towards the checkout.

The rest of the time inside the store was filled with curiosities as Harry carried the paper bags towards the car, barely recognizing Connor’s figure heading towards his own vehicle. Luckily, Harry has parked only a few slots away and could inconspicuously watch Connor and his so-called ‘lady’.

Except, Camille was ushering him to hurry up as she still had a few things to pack at home.

___

On most days, Harry was used to waking up alone. Used to feeling the shiver crawling up his side, used to seeing the indent left by Camille’s body instead of her. He had grown familiar with the sudden cast of loneliness blanketing him thicker than the duvet on top of his body.

The early morning trip to the store had tired him out, paired with the overthinking of the man named ‘Connor’ that flipped his attitude towards him quicker than he could kick the grey basket with his feet. He flopped back to the mattress after washing his face and brushing his teeth. It was noon when he jolted out of bed again at the sound of his front door opening, voices filling the empty space that had Harry running towards the foyer in case there was an intruder.

His tense shoulders sagged in relief when he caught sight of his mum and Gemma, “Oh, s’just you guys,”

Both women looked up at him at the top of the stairs, “You forgot we were coming over for the weekend, didn’t you?” Gemma teased as she headed to the living room. Harry followed, walking down the stairs.

He scratched the nape of his neck nervously, “No. . . “

“Can you help me reach this, H?” Anne called out from the kitchen.

His mum gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, “Yes, you did, by the way. Slept through the whole morning. Good thing Camille let us in before she left,”

At the sound of a bag crumpling and squeals echoing the hollow house, Harry scrunched his nose in curiosity, briskly walking where Gemm was currently holding up tiny baby clothes in front of her. “Who’s that for?” He thought of any possible friends that had had a baby recently but couldn’t recall any.

She immediately stuffed the clothing into the bag, nervously placing a hand on her chest, “Gosh, Harry, you scared me,” Her brows went high on her forehead in alarm, sharing a look with her mum trailing behind Harry.

“Well? Did I miss something?”

“Oh, it’s for one of my friends,”

Harry contemplated on his next words, “D-did you know that Y/N had a baby?” It couldn’t be right if his sister and mum knew about his exes baby and not him, right? That’s just plain odd to still be in touch with an ex's family. His brows furrowed in suspicion as both of them declined his question.

“What? Nooo,”

Awkward silence filtered through the air as Anne sipped water from her mug and Harry was slowly putting the pieces together. Gemme dove to the centre of the couch where her phone was when it rang suddenly, surprising all three of them. Harry was quicker, eyeing his mum and sister and inspecting the emoji substituting as a name before sliding his thumb to answer it.

"Hey, Gems! Are you coming to the park? We're waiting for you,”

Harry felt his heart drop to his stomach just as the phone nearly slipped from his clutch. That voice. He could recognize it from everywhere having spent nearly every morning for the four years that they were together hearing it lulling him out of sleep. It was Y/N’s voice calling his sister who was looking extremely anxious.

He tapped on the ‘mute’ button, “What does she mean ‘we’?”

“Nothing! Give me my phone back,” Gemma tried to reach for the device but Harry held it high beyond her reach.

“I saw the picture you sent me. I told you that you and Anne didn’t have to get me anything,” Harry felt dizzy. “Connor and I got some things a few weeks ago. But that skirt is so adorable!”

One part of him was glad to hear her voice. In fact, Harry found himself smiling too, despite what he just heard. Connor. “Harry, won’t be there right? Hello? Have I been talking to myself this whole time,” Y/N laughed a little; she had a habit of talking endlessly when she was excited. It made Harry more sombre, letting his guards down and his arm in reach for Gemma to grasp.

“Hey! I'm just organizing the clothes, see you soon!" Gemma jammed her finger on the red end call, anxiously glancing at her brother, piecing everything together.

“Who's Connor?" Could it be that the Connor he met last night was the same as Y/N’s? The one who bought pickles and strawberries--one of Y/N favourite food combinations? He mentioned that he had a little girl and Y/N just called to meet his sister and his mum at the park. And baby clothes?

Anne and Gemma looked at each other, quickly deciding that for the benefit of Harry that they should tell him at least a little bit. He was looking as if he was going insane, especially with his bed head pointing his hair out in different directions.

“He’s Y/N’s partner”

Harry gulped, reeling his thoughts to a halt, “Partner? And the baby is...?” The last bit of confirmation was all he needed to lash his feelings out.

“Is... waiting for us at the park! Sorry H gotta go,” Gemma was swift enough to gather all the bags without having Harry chase after her. His state of confusion and shock was enough to render him partially speechless and immobile.

“Hey wait!”

Anne garnered his attention, “Oh, Mrs. Q from next door wants me over for dinner. I’m sure wants to see us both. Why don’t you get ready, Harry?” Anne tugged his arm in the direction of the staircase pushing him to stumble up a couple of steps.

Harry was confused. He made the sounds of his footsteps creeping up the wooden stairs, hearing his mum quietly talking to Gemma on the phone, “Elmsway Park, you said? How long till you're home? I’m not sure how long I can keep him occupied,”

With that being said, Harry was out of his house, silently unlocking and locking the door. He was dressed in some basketball shorts and a graphic tee, slipping on the first pair of sneakers he had tossed aside. Harry jogged to his car, typing in the name of the park on his phones’ GPS. The route was only a few minutes away so he decided to take his time, gathering his scattered thoughts along the way.

He parked just beside the playground scouting the trees around the premises. Harry decided that it was the perfect day. The sun was out. It wasn’t too humid and the birds were chirping on the branches. He could see why the playground was full of children running around in delight. The green patches of grass were partially filled with picnic blankets and food to be shared. Families laughed with each other as one in particular caught his eye.

It made him smile at first, seeing just how adorable the couple was with their baby. He exited the car, making sure to lock the vehicle. With his hands jammed deep in the pockets of his shorts, Harry could feel the tethered grass rubbing against his legs. As he got closer, he couldn’t help the twinge of familiarity spark in his chest, recognizing that what he was staring at was Connor playfully chasing a little girl of about two-years-old as she squealed at how close he was getting to tagging her.

Harry stood by a tree, shielding him away from view. He tried to appear invisible without seeming too creepy. He knew that it was only a matter of seconds before his eyes found the woman he had been missing, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

Connor picked up the little girl in his arms, dotting pecks all over the girls’ cheeks, causing her to giggle and push his face away with a tiny palm. And there she was standing outside the raised platform of the playground, coming up to the both of them with a juice box in hand to hydrate the little angel. Connor turned his attention to Y/N, planting the most adoring kiss on her lips that made her smile so wide and the baby cover her eyes. They laughed together, looking like a picture-perfect family.

Gemma sat on the bench, flickering her gaze to the precious family in front of her and to the figure of her brother walking away from the scene. Her heart broke for Harry, and it cracked, even more, when he turned back. This time, watching Connor and Y/N cheer on baby angel to go down the slide. Both of them clapped their hands in enthusiasm as the girl hesitantly slid down the plastic slide. The smile on her face was infectious.

It almost made Harry smile, too.

___

Let us know what you thought!

Trial aka pt 4 is already up on Patreon! (link in bio)

___

Permanent Taglist: @splendidsunsetx @swagmoneymaya @textingharry @arypesanchez @theresthingsthatwellneverknow @mellamolayla

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles drabble #harry styles imagines #harry styles angst

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elvish-sky · 4 years ago

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A Love Forged by Knives

A.N: Ok, so this is kinda my first ever fanfiction and I'm really excited about it! I had so much fun writing and hopefully, I'll be able to write more soon.

Pairing: Legolas X Reader

Word Count: 1660

Summary: Y/N gets hurt in an orc attack and Legolas has to take care of her.

Warnings: Some fluff, blood/wounds/battle, a little angst.

****

A Love Forged by Knives

When you had joined the fellowship, you hadn't expected there to be quite this much running. Sure, at first it had been just walking, admittedly lots of it, but walking was fine. Now, though, with the eagerness to get to the mountains, Gandalf was setting a hard pace. Aragorn and Legolas were easily matching Gandalf, even foraging ahead for a while, and Boromir would have done the same had he not been looking after the hobbits, all four of whom were struggling but still keeping up. However, you were not having quite as easy a time. Thankfully, you weren't the only one having trouble with the faster pace.

Poor Gimli was huffing and puffing, weighed down by all his armor and unable to match even your slow pace because of his size. There had been a lot of checking on him to make sure he was keeping up over the past few days, and on the rare occasion he passed you, he returned the favor.

While you were looking back at Gimli to make sure he was ok, you heard a shout that sounded like an orc. You spun around to see the rest of the fellowship under attack. Gandalf was whacking one with his staff while slicing another with his sword. Aragorn and Boromir had quickly drawn their swords and were dispatching orcs with apparent ease, while the hobbit stabbed with their small weapons, taking orcs by surprise. Legolas was interchangeably using his bow or daggers to fight and looked like a small, contained hurricane of death.

While you were taking this in, Gimli had caught up, and the two of you jumped into the fight, him with his axe and you with your two hunting knives.

As you whirled around, stabbing and slicing and blocking with your two knives, you heard a cry. You spun around and saw Legolas on the ground, with an orc looming above him. You watched as the orc brought his axe up, ready to bring it down and end your friend's life, but at the last second Legolas whipped out a small dagger from his boot, sprung up, and sliced the orc's throat.

You sighed in relief, and as you did you felt a sharp pain in your leg. An orc had snuck up behind you and slashed at you while you were distracted. You managed to stab and kill him, but then your leg gave out and you collapsed.

"Y/N!"

A shout came from Aragorn as he saw you collapse, and he made his way over to you, having just killed the last orc. Everyone else's attention was drawn by his shout, and Legolas rushed over, pushing Aragorn aside to get a closer look at your wound. It was deep and long, running half the length of your thigh, and you were bleeding profusely.

Legolas examined it, and after he had poked and prodded until you had to bite your tongue to keep from crying out, he said, "Y/N, this needs to be taken care of but we can't do anything until we camp for the night. It looks pretty bad. Do you want me or Aragorn to carry you until we can find a spot to camp?"

"No," you said, "I can walk."

You tried to stand up to prove your point but the second you put weight on the leg you hissed with pain. You stubbornly kept trying to walk, managing to make it about four feet until your leg crumpled beneath you.

Aragorn caught you and wrapped a piece of cloth around your leg to stop the blood, while saying, "I think it's best if someone carries you. We'll camp soon."

Aragorn swept you up into his arms but was quickly accosted by Legolas, who whispered something you couldn't hear. With a smirk, he handed you off to Legolas, who held you gently as if he didn't want to cause you any more pain. You placed your head on his chest and drifted into unconsciousness.

As you fell asleep, you didn't hear him whisper "Sleep well, melleth nîn(my love)."

Later, you awoke as even Aragorn was growing weary looking for a good spot to camp, Gandalf called back to Legolas to hurry up, and you wondered why you were so far behind the rest of the group. Unbeknownst to you, Legolas had been so worried about you that he had slowed his pace to make sure he could walk with the utmost care, so as not to disturb you.

Finally, Aragorn called out "I've found a camping spot!"

Everyone went over to him as he parted the branches to reveal a small glade, perfect for the night. Sam quickly got a fire going and began making stew while the others gathered around and Aragorn and Boromir set up all the sleeping rolls. Legolas gently placed you on yours and began unwrapping the cloth over your wound.

You both gasped as it was uncovered, as somehow it looked worse than it had earlier. he quickly made a dressing and placed it on the gash, while also doing something that you thought looked suspicious with a needle.

"I'm terribly sorry Y/N, but this wound is too severe to leave open. I'm going to have to give you stitches."

"What?" you exclaimed. "Legolas, no. I'm fine. I don't need you to sew me up like a doll."

He ignored you and asked Merry and Pippin to come over to hold your hands, and possibly restrain you from moving while he stitched. As he sewed, he told stories of other adventures he'd had over his long life, and you, Merry, and Pippin listed raptly. The tales he told were so amazing that they made you forget about the pain, and you drifted off to sleep once he had finished the stitches and placed another poultice on.

You opened your eyes to see a pitch-black forest surrounding the small glade, and a shape silhouetted by the fire. You could tell it was the elf by the shape of his ears. You made to rise and walk over to him, but you hissed as pain shot through your leg. Legolas was up in a flash, striding towards you with an expression of worry on his face.

"Y/N? Is everything ok?"

"It's fine," you replied, "I'm just cold, and my leg hurts."

"I'm sorry," said the elf. "Sip this."

"What is it?" you replied.

"It's an elvish sleeping drought. It should take away the pain and help you rest."

"Thank you," you said, and you took a sip and felt the pain begin to leave your body.

You began to fall asleep, but through the haze of drowsiness you felt Legolas kiss your forehead and heard him say "Sleep well, melleth nîn." This time, however, you heard him say it.

You sat up, your sleepiness gone. "What did you say?" you asked the elf, who was blushing like mad.

"Uhmm... nothing. Why?" he replied.

"Oh no, don't you weasel your way out. You called me 'my love'."

You could see his face wince with the words, and then harden into resolve.

"Ok, Y/N. I have been putting this off because I was never quite sure how you were going to react, but you've caught me so I guess I must tell you. I'm in love with you."

You gasped, heat rushing to your face as he continued.

"I've loved you ever since you sent that knife whizzing between Aragorn and Boromir's heads that one night."

Your mind flashed back to a night just after they had left Rivendell when they were all gathered around a fire. Aragorn and Boromir had been boasting about their skill with throwing knives and had challenged each member of the fellowship to a contest. Legolas had, of course, beat them both. Gimli had tied with Boromir and lost to Aragorn, and Gandalf declined to participate. Merry and Pippin both failed miserably, Frodo had been ok, and Sam had shockingly done pretty well. It was only after everyone else had gone that Aragorn and Boromir had begun to tease you. After a while, fed up with it, you decided to show them your skills. You had them stand side by side against a tree, and proceeded to gather the knives of everyone in the fellowship. Then, in about sixty seconds, you made a row of knives in between them, with the last on landing in between their heads. They both looked shocked, and the rest of the fellowship had broken out into applause.

Legolas' cough drew you back to the present, and you listened as he continued. "I don't think I've ever felt as scared as I did today when you fell. I'm going to do everything I can to help you heal, but if you don't want me here then I'll leave at dawn. I'll do anything for you."

"Oh Legolas," you whispered, "I don't need anything. I only need you. I love you, too."

He looked back down at you and slowly sat next to you. "Are you sure?"

"Of course."

He made as if to get up and go to his bedroll, but you grabbed his hand and pulled him back.

"Will you stay with me?"

"Yes."

He lay down next to you and wrapped an arm around your waist, careful not to move your leg.

As you both got drowsy, you whispered "Sleep well melleth nîn."

He whispered back "Gi mellin (i love you)," and you both drifted to sleep.

When you woke in the morning, the sun was out, the birds were chirping, and Legolas' soft breathing filled your ears. You sat up to see the rest of the fellowship looking and you and Legolas and silently each handing a few coins to Gandalf and Aragorn.

Legolas awoke, and, seeing the same scene as you, proceeded to yell out "Did every one of you bet against me except Gandalf and Aragorn?!"

#legolas #legolas x reader #legolas x y/n #legolas fanfic #legolas fanfiction #legolas imagines #legolas imagine #lord of the rings #lotr #lotr fanfic #lotr fanfiction

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hotdemonsummer · 4 years ago

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Obey Me! and Angelology and Demonology

alternatively titled Lets Get Into Lucifer

This is yet another long, long post about the lore of Obey Me! from the perspective of historical and theological angelology, and demonology or the study of angels and demons respectively, because I think it’s neat. I also talk way too much. I’m scared to check the word count on this.

Disclaimer: I am not an expert on anything, and certainly not on religion. I just like comparative theology. Also, spoilers for lesson 43/44.

What is an angel? And what, in turn, is a demon? It depends on who you ask. All religions that have angels have a general consensus that they are spiritual beings, intermediaries of some kind of higher power. Demons, on the other hand, are much more vague beyond general malevolence toward humanity. Any connection between the two is entirely dependent on the culture and religion in question. Some have angels but not demons, and many have vice versa.

There’s generally four kinds of spirits that are considered demons:

Dead people with extremely bad vibes (think mogwai, yuurei, and other revenants)

Neutral-to-malevolent energy, physical form optional (think djinni or yokai)

Cult subjects (including foreign gods and ancestor worship)

Corrupted angels (either fallen or Nephilim)

The word demon comes from the Greek δαίμων, or daimon, but the concept of a demon is much older than the Greeks. The original daimon had none of the malevolent, evil associations that we now think of. Instead, daimon just described a kind of powerful spiritual entity (for example, δαίμων is the term Euripides uses for the new god Dionysus in The Bacchae). What we think of as demons now didn’t exist in Greek culture, and the negative associations came when the Tanakh was translated from Hebrew to Greek, but even then shedim aren’t identical to the contemporary depiction of demons that we see in Obey Me!, which, like everything else in Western society, came about through the domination of Christianity.

Shedim, the precursor to the Christian demon, was more or less a term for false gods, a title for the various Levantine pagan gods (see: origin of Beelzebub, Belphegor, and pretty much every demon that starts with Bel- or Bal-).

Obey Me! pretty much canonizes Type 2 and Type 4 demons, with characters like Diavolo, Barbatos, and Satan as Type 2 and the other brothers as Type 4. Historically, Beelzebub and Belphegor are Type 3 (Beelzebub and Belphegor being Levantine gods), Mammon being Type 2 (a general personification of Wealth, although Milton did write him as a Type 4 in Paradise Lost) and Asmodeus being somewhere in between Type 2 and 3 (being heavily derived from a Zoroastrian daeva of wrath). Lucifer is, historically, the only consistently Type 4 demon.

I don’t think I have to explain what a fallen angel is to any OM! fan. But I will.

Let’s talk about these guys. We’re all familiar with Satan’s weird complex about Lucifer, and I’m sure we’re all equally familiar with how Satan and Lucifer are terms used interchangeably for whatever being is The Big Bad of Hell. However, they’re not synonymous.

Satan derives from the same Proto-Semitic root as shayatan, which... should be pretty obvious, but nonetheless has a pretty analogous role as a tempter of men in the Abrahamic religions. Beyond that “tempter of men” title, though, the actual details of what Satan is is incredibly varied, including whether or not “Satan” is a name or a title. In Christianity, the view of Satan as an extremely powerful and evil corrupter of man, wholly opposed to God, came around the Middle Ages, when witchcraft hysteria spread.

Lucifer, on the other hand, is simultaneously a figure originating in Christianity and much, much older than it. The term of course means “light-bringer”, and is heavily associated with the morning star, aka the planet Venus. To make a very long story short, many Mesopotamian, Levantine, and Mediterranean cultures saw the lowering of Venus toward the horizon at night and thought, “hey, thats a pretty neat image!” and created stories about heavenly beings falling toward the earth. Of course, they didn’t use the ‘term’ Lucifer, that’s Latin, and came from the Vulgate Bible.

The term Lucifer does not exclusively refer to The Evil Fallen Angel™ in Christian texts (some very sacred things like the Exsultet explicitly refer to Jesus as Lucifer), but it sure is the most popular interpretation. In works like Paradise Lost or the Divine Comedy, the general idea is that the angel Lucifer rebelled against God in some way and was cast out of Heaven, then becoming Satan, and thus the two are one and the same.

(inb4 some Quora-type chews me out for accuracy’s sake, the “lucifer” mentioned in Isaiah 14:12 refers not to any angel, but to a Babylonian king. The whole fallen angel thing, much like the beatitudes or Bethlehem or Christmas, is a fusion of pagan influences.)

In other words, Lucifer is always and has always been a fallen angel. Satan, on the other hand, doesn’t have those connections to angelhood, and the two figures have an undeniable connection despite their clear individual differences. Sound familiar?

The next question is then what kind of angel is Lucifer anyway? to which you might be thinking, wait, there are different kinds? Yes, holy shit, there are so many kinds of angels and very little consensus on what they are. In terms of Christian angelology (because again, Lucifer is a uniquely Christian/derivative Christian figure unless you exclude Leland’s Aradia which I don’t because lbr they were Italian anyways), most hierarchies are based on the work of this guy:

This man has the incredibly succinct name of Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite, and sometime in the 5th century he wrote a book called De Coelesti Hierarchia. It orders the *WTNV voice* hierarchy of angels into three levels called spheres, and each sphere has three sub-levels called choirs. Many, but not all, of the choirs are adopted from various Jewish angelic hierarchies. If you thought that it was just angels and then archangels were, like, the middle management version of angels then you are very wrong. I’m sorry that television lied.

You know who also lied? Tumblr dot com and any post that implies that the true form of angels is a big wheel with a bunch of eyes. That is, in fact, a descriptor for only one kind of angel: ophanim, or thrones. The depiction of angels runs the gamut from winged humanoids to multi-winged humanoids with multiple animal heads to burning snakes to vague heavenly mist.

Archangels and angels are the eighth and ninth lowest choirs of angels, respectively. Angels, or malakhim, are the default messengers of God and the choir from which guardian angels come from. Generally, if someone claims to have a message from God delivered to them, it will be an angel doing it. If it’s really important, it’ll be an archangel. Everyone else literally has more important things to do. No one’s getting visions from dominions.

Lucifer’s (the theological one) actual designation is kind of a mystery. Depending on the text, Lucifer has been described as a seraph (the highest), a cherub (the second highest), or an archangel (the eighth). According to Thomas Aquinas:

Lucifer, chief of the sinning angels, was probably the highest of all the angels. But there are some who think that Lucifer was highest only among the rebel angels.

Not very helpful, but hey. The question remains: what kind of angel is Lucifer, and this time I mean our Lucifer.

We know that Michael, just like his namesake, is an archangel. We also know that (SPOILERS) Simeon, unlike his namesake, is an archangel as well (Simeon is a saint, not an angel.) Lucifer likely was at their level, if not higher.

However, Lucifer was also a six-winged angel, a depiction generally reserved for seraphim (and cherubim, but far less frequently).

Moreover, in terms of role, an angellic Lucifer fits well with that of the powers, the sixth choir. Powers are in charge of moving the heavenly bodies, and are depicted as powerful warriors dressed in beautiful armor. It's fitting for a being so closely tied to the morning star to be a power, after all.

So, with all that considered, what is Lucifer?

Well, he’s a seraph (or saraph, technically). Why? Because Simeon is somehow a seraph and an archangel (I have already written too much to unpack that bullshit), and Mammon was a throne (remember those wheels with eyes?) and Beel was a cherub and therefore Lucifer had to be higher than both of them (interestingly big brother Mammon is in a lower choir than little brother Beel). This makes Michael kind of, well... weird, given the archangels’ low rank.

Some like to differentiate between archangel the eighth choir and Archangel, with a capital A, as a term for any high-ranking angel. While this is likely what Solmare is doing, I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that this has zero basis in any religious text whatsoever and is solely done for the convenience of not remembering anything besides angel and archangel. Which is like, fine, but I’m a pedantic jerk who I found claims to the contrary while researching and I felt the need to correct that.

Anyways, the more you know.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me theories #obey me demonology #obey me angelology #obey me lucifer #my theories #YEEHAW that was a lot. my god #anyways besties dont let this flop

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mauvecherie-writes · 4 years ago

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Dirty Thirty [Florian Munteanu]

Summary: For Florian’s birthday, you fly out to Sydney to be with him for the celebration of a lifetime.

Warning: NSFW*** BDSM themes. Sex Toys, Anal Play (Fingering and Pegging).

Word count: 3+K

Note: Things are about to get heavy with this one so please if you’re uncomfortable with what will be depicted, NO NOT READ! FIRST AND ONLY WARNING. Uploaded on mobile. Will edit later

A small chuckle left her lips as she thought back to the faces of the security at the border control when she arrived in Australia. Having a suitcase full of adult contraptions would bring a blush to anyone’s face. They looked back at her and silently closed the case and allowed her to eventually leave.

The first stop from the airport was the rented apartment Florian was staying at. She was very thankful to have been friends with the production assistant Sammy, who had the pleasure of driving her around and keeping her company until the cast were able to take a break from filming in about an hour.

“Are you sure that you’re not needed back on set? I can honestly just order an Uber.” YN said as she continued to do her hair. After they had arrived at the apartment, YN took a shower and then changed from her tracksuit into a colourful printed strapless corset top and black high waisted pants that had slits at the bottom by her ankles. YN tied the straps of her heels around the bottom of her trousers.

“Oh it’s fine girl. There’s like five other production assistants and I had let them know that I wouldn’t be there for a couple of hours.” Sammy replied as she surfed through her phone as she waited for YN to finish getting ready. Her hair that was usually in an afro had been silk pressed and then an installation of a long braided ponytail that she could interchange with other hair pieces that were neatly packed in her suitcase.

“So how has shooting been with all the restrictions in place?” YN asked as she packed her small purse and then grabbed a black surgical mask as she stood up, indicating that she was done.

“Honestly, I prefer it this way. The number of unnecessary people around the set has been cut down tremendously. My job is still pretty hectic but now I don’t have entitled set workers demanding me around when I’m specifically for the cast, director and the link to the production company.”

“That’s good. Are people allowed visitors because I feel like I’m breaking rules here.” YN said as they settled back into the car.

“If you had come around May, June time then it would have been a problem but as cases have dropped, a lot of the restrictions have been lifted so it’s not a problem.”

“Oh that’s good then.” The two women continued to engage in conversation as they drove to the location of the set. It was mostly about Sammy sharing the stories of the crazy and bizarre demands of the cast. In particular, Florian had an affinity for the weirdest american chocolate and sweets which Sammy most of the time had to order from online as most australian stores do not sell what he likes.

“And the man can eat! I was so shocked when I had to deliver his lunch for the first time.” Sammy exclaimed.

“Oh yeah! Dude can eat for a whole football team.” YN replied.

“I don’t know how you deal with that everyday.”

“Most of the time, I cook a feast because I know he’ll eventually get hungry and because of my work, I’m not at home most of the time that he’s there and I’d rather he eat what I’ve cooked and not order a takeaway.”

“You’ll be disappointed to know that I don’t think he’s had a home meal since we got here.”

YN laughed in response. “Somehow, I don’t doubt that.”

Their conversation continued to flow as they continued their journey to the area that they were filming. YN was a little skeptical about her presence on set but Sammy let her know that she had been put down on the authorised visitors list, they just didn’t tell Florian.

YN was there as a surprise visit for Florian’s birthday. With his core friendship group all busy, trying to get their business back up and his parents still being at high risk, she did not want him spending his birthday alone. YN began making the arrangements for a birthday trip to him. As her own boss, she made sure to delegate power and responsibilities to her employees so that they knew what to do for the two weeks that she will be gone.

She had a plan and Sammy helped her execute some of it and she was grateful for that. Right now, she was only going to the set location because there wasn’t any

way she was going to wait until he was finished working to see him when they were in the same place. YN had not seen Florian for over three months, she desperately missed him.

As the car pulled into the parking lot, she could feel her eagerness take over but she was going to be patient and wait until she saw him.

As the day drew to a close, the cast and crew had finished with most of the shooting and they were now sitting outside the director’s trailer having a conversation about their days which dove into the crazy stunts the actors have done in the past. Simu was deep into explaining a stunt move that dislocated his shoulder when he stopped talking when he saw Sammy approaching with a beautiful woman behind him.

“Who is that?” When he asked the question, everyone around him turned to face the direction in which he was looking. Florian instantly smiled and pushed his large body up from his chair.

“Baby!” he exclaimed as he walked towards her which left everyone behind him questioning what he said. YN moved past Sammy and ran as fast as her heels could carry her into his arms. She moved her mask and immediately captured his lips and moaned into his mouth when their lips finally met. YN could feel her heart swell tremendously in her chest as their lips moved against each other. His arms tightened around her as he swayed their bodies.

“I missed you so fucking much.” he mumbled against her lips as he placed her back down onto her feet steadily. YN placed her hands onto his cheeks and caressed his beard underneath her fingers.

“I missed you too baby.”

“I can’t believe that you’re here. Why didn’t you tell me that you were coming.”

“Surprise!”

“Ugh.” He engulfed her back into his arms and dropped his head into the crook of her neck. “You don’t understand how happy I am to see you.”

“I wasn’t going to let you enter the next decade by yourself.” She whispered into his ear. When they pulled apart, he took her hand into his and ushered her towards the group of people.

“Guys, this is my girlfriend YN. Babe, this is the crew that had been keeping me company for the past couple of months.” They all eagerly stumbled over their feet to greet her as they were bewildered by her beauty and the fact that Florian had a girlfriend. He kept his personal life very private and never shared anything more than just he was extremely close with his family and had a close knit circle of friends, he always kept contact with. Not once did he mention that he had a girlfriend and seeing her in the flesh, they understood why.

They hung around the set for a little longer before they made it back to his trailer and YN lounged on his couch, scrolling through social media as she waited for Florian to finish getting ready for dinner. She caught the scent of his cologne and she sat up straight and took in his appearance. He was dressed in a bright red t-shirt, black ripped fitted jeans with black and white Jordan’s with red laces. Around his neck was his single gold Cuban link chain. Such a simple look that had YN’s thighs clenching.

She got up from her seat and approached him. Her fingers played with his chain as he looked down at her.

“You’re going to make me forget about the plans I had in mind for us tonight.” She whispered as her hands moved his groomed beard and played with it.

“Hmm.” Florian hummed as he bit into his bottom lip. “What did you have in mind?”

“Don’t worry about that baby boy. Mama’s got everything covered.”

“Now I’m intrigued.”

YN kept the smirk on her face as they finally left the set and travelled to the restaurant that Sammy had picked out for them to have dinner. As they sat for dinner, YN kept close to him. She sat beside him, instead of opposite him. One hand was on his lap as they ate their food and she did not go long without kissing his lips. YN was being needy and she did not care how it looked to the outside world and Florian himself did not seem to mind it either. He was being showered by her attention and he greatly welcomed it.

By the time, they got to dessert, YN was ready to go. When the waitress came back to the table to clear their main entree plates, YN turned to her.

“Can we get the chocolate cake in a to go box please?” She asked.

“Sure. Should I bring the bill?”

“Yes please.” When the waitress left, Florian turned to face her.

“I can see the gears in your head turning. What do you have planned?” He asked which caused YN to smile.

“Don't worry about it.”

And he tried not to and that was until they got back to his apartment. She blindfolded him and took the time to strip him out of his clothes. She got onto her knees in front of him and slowly pulled the fabric down his legs and let him step out of them. Her teeth grazed the flesh of his thighs as she got back to her feet. She placed a soft kiss onto the corner of his mouth.

“Thank you for trusting to take control tonight.” She mumbled softly as she led him to the bed and laid him down.

“Of course.” Florian mumbled his response as he softly gulped as YN took each of his limbs and tied him to the bed. Once he was secure, she tugged on them to make sure that he won’t be able to escape so easily.

“Can you move around?” She asked him.

He tried to sit up but was restricted securely to the mattress.

“No.”

“Hmm.” YN smirked as she moved away from the bed and left Florian alone in silence with only his loud thoughts to keep him company. Anticipation prickled at his skin as he thought about what YN was going to do to him. He was the more dominating figure in the relationship but there were times where Florian relinquished that control to YN and she would take the bull by the horns.

Whenever they explored the trading of places in the bedroom, YN was wild and it exhilarated him. He never needed to say it but whenever she took control, he always came the hardest. She catered to his needs in the best possible way and pushed his boundaries.

He felt her presence back inside of the room by the floral scent of her perfume. The bed dipped as she got onto the bed and straddled his lap to take off the blindfold. As his eyes adjusted to the dim lights of the room, YN stood up straight to let him take in the outfit that she wore for him.

“Fuck, baby.” He groaned as he felt his hardness press into the fabric of his boxers. The leather caged the most intimate parts of her along with the sleeve covering her arms. Leather belts with metal rings wrapped around her thighs and torso like a garter belt and then came up her chest into a choker.

YN smiled as she bit onto her bottom lip as she bent her knees and brought her body down until she was hovering above his cock. She could feel just how hard he was and it made her moan softly.

“Do you like it?” She asked and he nodded his head, unable to speak. His mouth salivated at the sight of her just rendering him speechless. YN pressed her hand into his neck and pushed his head backwards as she dragged her nails down his chest. He hissed as he jerked softly underneath her. She repeated the action again and then pinched his nipples.

“Oh fuck!” He groaned as the acute pain of the pinching of his sensitive nipples sent small jolts of electricity straight to his cock. YN giggled at his reaction and moved her hands away.

“I’m going to have fun playing with you tonight.” YN got off him again and moved to one of her suitcases and opened it. Florian could not see exactly what she was grabbing but he could make out that they were toys. She came back to the bed and dropped everything that she needed. She grabbed a pair of scissors and cut his boxers from her body and another giggle left her lips as Florian reacted to the way she roughly pulled the tarted garments away from his body.

She hungrily licked her lips as she watched his thickness bounce back and hit his abdomen. His tip was weeping with pre-cum and it was a shade of angry red. YN bent forward and held onto his base and brought his tip to her mouth. Her tongue darted out and licked the pre-cum that had seeped out. His hips jerked upwards in response and let out a breathy moan.

“Is this for me baby.”

“Yes.” His voice was strained and it was pleasing to hear. With her other hand, she grabbed a cock ring and attached it to his base before she sat on her hind legs and grabbed the bottle of lube. She popped open the cap and squeezed the contents onto the palm of her hand and wrapped it around his girth. Florian gasped and pulled on the bondage as he failed to stay still.

“Be a good boy for me and stay still. Let me make you feel good but I need you to be still.” YN’s voice was like sweet honey to his ears. He loved it when she used this voice on him. The innocent tone of her voice was a sharp contrast to the explicit words that left her mouth and it was addictive. So he tried to stay still. The muscles of his stomach clenched as he tried not to thrust into her hand to follow her rhythm and chase her pace.

YN could tell that his orgasm was quickly rising from the way his length was throbbing in her hand. As his head fell backwards and his deep moans continued to escape from his chest, YN reached for the small vibrator, quickly turning it on and pressing it onto his tip. Florian choked on his moans as his legs began to thrash about and could not still any longer.

“Mmm. I can feel you about to cum.”

“Please.” Florian managed to say as his orgasm bubbled within the pit of his stomach. He did not think that he could hold himself back any longer and just as he was about to erupt, YN pulled the vibrator and her hand away. Florian growled in displeasure and looked at her with dark eyes of raging frustration. The smirk on her face could not be stopped as her eyes fell onto his face. As menace swirled in the brown of her eyes, Florian knew that she was going to ruin him.

YN continued to edge and ruin his orgasm until his entire body was trembling the strong need to release the tension that was locked into his muscles. With lubed fingers, she pushed two digits into his forbidden hole causing him to let out a pathetic whimper. The couple both explored anal play once in a while, YN more than Florian but in the rare moments that he did, he enjoyed it more and more. The first days, he was uncomfortable and weary about it but YN helped him get comfortable with the idea. His first orgasm triggered by the stimulation of his prostate opened his eyes.

She stretched him open and attached her lips to his tip and sucked on it, bringing him to the edge yet again. Florian’s moans were as loud as ever as he softly thrusted into her mouth. He was continuing to break her rules but he did not care. The desperation of his cries made YN weep. It was so seducing and she wanted to hear all the sounds that he made but she stopped once again.

“YN, please.” Florian pleaded weakly. His voice was weak and worn out but she knew that he wanted more. YN put him out of his misery and took off the cock ring which gave him some relief. He let out a sigh as he relaxed into the bed as she got up and walked to her suitcase again. She made sure that the strap was properly secured before she got back onto the bed and positioned herself in between his parted thighs.

To any man not content with who he is, this would have been incredibly emasculating but not to Florian. He was so aroused, his pre-cum was leaking so much, that he drenched his cock in it.

YN rubbed his thighs up and down with one hand as she coated the dildo with lube. With the tip teasing his puckered hole, she hovered above him and pecked his lips and looked into his dazed hazel eyes.

“Happy Birthday.” She whispered before slowly beginning to push into him, breaking through his tight barrier. Her pussy clenched as she watched Florian’s eyes roll to the back of his head and a long drawn out groan.

When she saw that she had filled him to the brim, she thrusted softly, making sure that he was well adjusted and comfortable. YN loved hearing his cries as he withered beneath her.

“Talk to me baby.” She spoke as she increased the pace. Watching him struggle to speak and against the restraints gave her the greatest pleasure. No one but her would see Florian this vulnerable.

“It feels so good.” He choked out.

“Yeah? You love me stretching you out like this?”

“Yes.” He gasped as she nudged his spot. She wrapped her hand around his length and began stroking him as he throbbed in her palm. “FUCK!” He exclaimed as he began to tremble and his chest heave heavier as he tried to catch his breath. Instinctively his body began to move in accordance with hers as he chased for his orgasm.

“I know what you’re doing. You want to cum don’t you my sweet boy?”

“YN.” Her name left his lips like a prayer as his fingers pulled on the ropes.

“It’s okay. I got you. Cum for for me.” She kept stroking and caressing until Florian let out the loudest groan and erupted all over her hand and onto his stomach. YN sighed with content as she slowly pulled out of him and watched as the orgasm continued to riddle his body.

His eyes were closed as she cleaned him up and untied him. The bondage left his skin slightly irritated from the tugging but he would be okay. YN took off the strap and her ruined underwear before kneeling beside him and trailing kisses up his chest to his lips.

As their lips passionately moved against each other, her skilful fingers were once again wrapped around his semi-hard cock. He groaned into her mouth and jerked in response.

“You okay?” She sweetly asked.

“Mhm.” Was his response as she straddled and her wet core hovered above his hardened girth. YN slowly sank down onto his length and moaned as he filled her up inch by inch.

Florian was overly sensitive and he had to hold onto her hips to stop himself from coming quick. A giggle left YN’s mouth as she sat up and raised herself up and sank back down clenching tightly around him in a calculated pattern.

“Fuck, you’re tryna kill me.” Florian hissed as he moved his hips in tune with her.

YN smiled as she bit into her bottom lip and swirled her hips. “It wouldn’t be a bad way to go.” Her comment caused him to laugh. He raised up from the bed and grabbed her ass into his large hands and began bringing her down onto him at a pace he desired.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and captured his lips as she moaned into his mouth. Her orgasm was quickly rising as she moved faster and faster.

“Baby.” She whispered as she scrunched her eyes shut and her mouth fell open.

“I’m here. I got you.” Florian cradled her body into his chest as their moans got louder and bounced off the walls.

“I’m gonna come.” She breathlessly whispered as she pressed forehead against his.

“Me too.” Florian groaned as he swelled inside of her. The sound of their love making serenaded them to the finish line as they climaxed together.

Boneless, they collapsed back onto the bed. They did not move an inch as they tried collect their breath and tiredness slowly creeped in.

“You really went all out tonight.” Florian mumbled as he traced patterns onto her back.

“Only for you.” YN replied as she placed a kiss onto the side of his neck.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Florian Taglist:

@emjaywrites @cali-strong @minton131 @amirra88 @bernie-k @xxkissatmidnightxx

Permanent Taglist:

@my-rosegold-soul @gwenspacy @beautifullmelodyxx @royallyprincesslilly @queenshikongo3 @blackmissfrizzle @writerbee-ffs @fumbling-fanfics @lotusss-flowerbomb @blowmymbackout @savvy-ivvory @write-fromthe-start @melinda-january @brownsugarcoffy @amelatonin @smuttywriter @iwrite4poc @nina-skyee @toni9 @19jammmy @chaneajoyyy @bluestarego @groovyevrywhr @themyscxiras @michael-is-bae @damnitaa @daddys-baby-girl-t @abcdestinyyyy @anonymouslust @midnvght-lies @zejess93 @may114 @brwnsugababe @youlovetkay @complacentviawattpad @melinaasap1 @superestrella9 @this-glitter-pussay @tgigoldie @queenoftheworldisdead @bigsisbria @ladya4444 @bvssmob @vozit

#munteanhore writes #florian munteanu #florian munteanu x black reader #florian munteanu smut #florian munteanu imagine #florian munteanu fanfiction

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dani-escribe · 4 years ago

Text

A Place To Call Home

Chapter 1

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F! Reader

Wordcount: 1,594

Summary: Who would have known that a day at the art museum could lead to meeting an extremely handsome FBI Agent ;)

Warnings: An incredible amount of fluff (seriously, like cotton candy level). SLOW BURN (buckle up for the ride!). Reader is a pediatric nurse, so a few mentions of kids and medical procedures in later chapters.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading and I really hope you like it! This is my comeback into writing and I am honestly so excited to keep writing this series. After watching the Mentalist and seeing how it ended I wanted to give our precious Marcus a happy ending (this is totally self-indulgent bc why not!). I want to thank @lowlights @fastandfeminist @wbl75 for being my beta readers and for all of their support. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! :)

Read here on ao3

You didn't know what possessed you to go visit the art museum on a rainy Wednesday afternoon, but you’re sure glad you went. You hadn't really had time to go to many museums in the last couple of years and wanted to really take in the experience. You’d been walking around looking at all of the intricate paintings and reading the descriptions of each one to try to understand what they were about when you saw a man that fit right in with the artwork. His pensive stance and deep brown eyes drew you in right away.

He was reading the description of the painting in front of him. He let out a short stifled laugh as if he knew something more about the painting that wasn't included in the description. The grey suit and black tie he was wearing made you wonder if he might be here on a date with someone or if he worked here. You were truly hoping that it was the latter of the two.

When you noticed that you had been staring at him for a creepy amount of time, you started to turn away, and in that exact moment he seemed to catch your eye. The way that he smiled made it seem like the world stopped for a short second. Before your flirty gaze turned into an awkward stare, you gave him a smile back and retreated to look at other artwork.

Walking around the other exhibits and looking at the sculptures and canvases from different time periods you began to think about all the wonders that you missed moving around as a kid. Your parents were teachers/potters and their jobs came with the occasional relocation to different places. They said that while teaching was their passion, ceramics had been their first true love. This meant that while you were usually in a stable place for a few years, during summer you and your sibling moved around with them to sell their art in different fairs. While you had seen and sold a lot of different types of art over the years, you never really had much time to appreciate it.

Your parents had been incredible in providing for you, and had only moved to ensure you had the best opportunities; but you always wondered about the experiences that you missed while being in a hurry to assimilate for half of your life. You knew that their teaching jobs didn't pay much, and that they used the money they got from their art to help cover the bills. This is why you had decided to move close to your family after starting a job at a local hospital in order to find a permanent place for yourself, a place that you could call home.

After making sure to see all of the exhibits at least once, you walked out of the museum with a sense of satisfaction: one, because you felt like you were catching up on lost time, and two, because of the interaction that you had had with a handsome stranger.

One of the best things was that the drive back to your new apartment from the museum, and pretty much everything else, was only about 5 minutes (10 if you counted traffic during rush hour). This also meant that everything was within walkable distance, which was also good because you sure as hell needed to start buying some supplies if you were going to clean up the pile of unpacked boxes at your new apartment.

As the night went on you were able to get most of your unpacking done, and you thought back to the stranger with those big brown eyes and gorgeous smile. He had a kind smile, one that made you feel like you could trust him, which was rare in a man you had just met. God, not only that but the suit that he had on made him seem like he was straight out of a James Bond movie. While putting away the last of your clothing, the blue scrubs that you had bought for your new job fell from the pile that you were carrying. This was enough to snap you out of your train of thought. You really needed to focus on thinking about that instead of daydreaming about a person you haven't even talked to, even if he had some of the cutest dimples you had seen. After trying to get him out of your thoughts unsuccessfully, you figured that it was either stressing about your new job or thinking about him. Ultimately you decided that a little daydreaming couldn't hurt too much. You wondered if you would ever see him again, and hoped that by some twist of fate you would.

---

With your job starting today you figured it would be a sign of good comradery to bring your new coworkers some coffee from the cute diner down the street. Also, you found social interactions to be quite tricky at first and an ice breaker couldn't seem to hurt. Plus who doesn't like free breakfast, especially on a Monday morning right?

As you got dressed in your blue scrubs you headed for the door a whole hour early to avoid being late and to try to make a good impression. Making sure to note as you entered the diner to grab some scones or muffins for those who don’t like coffee, you accidentally stumbled into the man exiting with his coffee. The splash drenched his tie and shirt, only leaving his pants unscathed. Starting to profusely apologize and grabbing a handful of napkins to clean up the mess, you almost missed the fact that the brown eyes that were looking at you right now were the same ones that had held your gaze in the museum.

“I am so sorry, I can totally pay for your dry cleaning,” you gasped, both out of embarrassment and amazement that you were seeing the gorgeous stranger that had plagued your mind for the past couple of days.

“No worries at all. I actually needed an excuse to get out of wearing this tie that I got as a gift last year, so to think of it you really saved me,” he let out a chuckle. Now that you're looking at it, it is a very… bold choice of clothing. It was a striped neon tie with pink and orange interchanging lines.

“I got it as an office exchange party gift and now have the perfect excuse to change out of it.” Those killer dimples were showing along with the smile he gave you that helped to put you at ease.

“Well at least let me replace your coffee,” you said with a laugh at his honesty.

You went back inside to pay for his and your coffee orders and got to talking a bit before your orders were out.

“So what brings you around here, besides the coffee of course. I haven't really seen you here before,” he stated as he moved slightly closer to hear your answer over the clinking of cutlery and dishes.

“Oh I actually just moved near here. I’m starting today at the nearby hospital as a pediatric nurse. ” His proximity made you suddenly aware of how tall he was. He had at least a few good inches on you, and he leaned in to listen when you spoke. This didn’t help with your already flustered state to say the least.

“That sounds really exciting, congrats! The closest I get with kids at my job is the ones on an oil painting,” his eyes crinkled a bit as he laughed.

“Yeah, I totally understand. Little kids are such a wonder but working with them is not for everyone,” you chimed in with a bit of a laugh “Are you a curator then, is that why you were at the museum the other day?” You asked with a hope that he hadn't been there with anyone as a date.

“Oh no, I actually work with the FBI. I’m in the art crimes division. I was doing research on a new case which is why I was down in the museum. Some inspiration never hurts.” Now it was your turn to be amazed. You didn’t actually think he would be an agent like James Bond, but you weren’t complaining.

“I guess it doesn't hurt that it's really close to here too huh.” You added noting that it was a bit serendipitous to have met him twice in a few days within the same five mile radius.

Just as you were about to say something else your name was called and your orders came out. When you were about to turn to leave he called to you.

“I never did get your name,” he noted before heading out.

You told him your name and he repeated it in a way that made it seem like he was trying it out.

“And I feel like the least I can do is learn the name of the person who I so viciously attacked with a coffee cup.” You stated as you gave him a sheepish smile.

He let out a short laugh and replied, “The name of the person who you saved from having to continue wearing a highlighter tie is Marcus.” You shook your head at his joke and turned to leave.

As you grabbed the door handle you took one last look back and said “hope to see you around, Marcus.” You waved and parted ways to head in for your first day of work.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike fic #marcus pike x f!reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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duchessfics · 5 years ago

Text

Business and Pleasure Part 5

(https://alainashuffman.tumblr.com/post/66522632737/sarah-paulson-in-piggy-piggy)

Billie x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): NSFW, D/s Dynamics, Semi-Public Sex, Fingering, Some Language, Praise Kink

Summary: It’s finally the day you and Billie fly to New York City. But you’ve got a full day of work to do beforehand. So inevitably you find yourself once more trying to work out how your relationship interchanges between work and personal. And you get a good time with Billie out of it too.

Word Count: 8805

A/n: Here it is! Part 5! 🙂 I hope ya’ll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Part 4, Business and Pleasure Masterlist

A self-made breeze brushes against your face as you rush through the Buzzfeed filming studio and dodge between different people and objects with Billie’s usual Starbucks iced coffee and McDonald’s sausage biscuit concealed in a Starbucks bag. While you intended to get here earlier, packing for your trip last night took longer than you thought. As a result, you stayed up far too late and when your alarm went off this morning the thought of a couple more minutes of sleep was too compelling. But when you hit snooze you overestimated how fast you could get ready and ended up practically running out the door. Luckily the studio is smaller than yesterday’s and you find Billie within minutes.

The glamorous blonde is perched at a makeshift makeup and hair station and you can tell she sees you because her face lights up in recognition and she gives you a smile before purring, “Good morning, sunshine.”

The warmth of her greeting compels your cheeks to warm up also and you return a small smile, shyly replying, “Good morning. Sorry for getting here so late, but I got your usual.”

Her smile widens as you give her the items and after she looks in the bag to confirm it really is the sausage biscuit, her mouth waters at the sight and she looks to you once again while moaning, “Oh sweetheart, I could kiss you right now. This looks so amazing.”

Your eyes widen and you feel the hairs on the back of your neck rise in awareness as your whole body warms at her choice of words. But you attempt to brush past the comment like anyone else would and lightly clear your throat to conceal the silence before you stutter, “I-I’m glad you like it. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Immediately you close your eyes regretting how you phrased that as ‘anything.’ And sure enough you open them up to see her shit-eating grin as she teases, “Do you really mean anything? Because I can always think of something I need.”

Do not spur her on. Think of a neutral reply. Anything.

Trying to maintain eye contact feels like trying to climb a mountain and any resilience left is used to keep your voice neutral when you slowly reply, “Anything in terms of filming. My employment services only go so far.” Billie’s eyebrows raise in mock surprise at your words, but she keeps that smug look on her face when she murmurs, “Of course I was speaking about filming…but it almost sounded like you have a little crush on me, y/n.”

If there is a time for the ground to open up and swallow you whole it’s now.

Your eyes widen at her forwardness and your whole body burns to the point of breaking into a nervous sweat while you shake your head and stutter, “N-no, Miss Howard. I didn’t—I-I never meant to—”

But she shushes your squeaky, incoherent plea and chuckles as she soothes, “I’m only kidding, darling.” I just wanted to see how you would react.” Fiery adrenaline that somehow simultaneously feels like icy shards shoots through your veins and you must look shocked because even the artist doing Billie’s makeup giggles and tells her, “I think you got her pretty good.”

If you two were alone, you would totally scold her for taunting you like that. But right now, she’s your boss. So you meekly nod and reply, “Oh. Well—um, do you need anything else before filming?” The medium gives you a knowing smile and wink before answering, “Not at the moment. But I appreciate the offer.” So you take her trash from breakfast and throw it out while she finishes with hair and makeup.

For today her manager lined up a gig with Buzzfeed LA where they will film Billie answering questions from twitter about being a medium. And in the process she’ll also promote her own show. After getting Billie placed, the crew makes last minute adjustments, and someone brings over a glass bowl with slips of paper that have questions on them. They set it on a wooden stool that is tall enough for her to draw from while standing, but it doesn’t get in the way of their filming shot. Today the blonde is dressed a little more on the casual side but still looks elegant, wearing glossy black heels, high waisted, freshly pressed black palazzo pants, and a silk, dusty rose button up blouse that is stylishly tucked into her trousers to flatter her hourglass figure. And, to your delight, she also has her notorious string of pearls on with earring studs to match.

Today you’re closer to Billie when she films so she can actually see you. But you stay back to keep out of the crew’s way, and she can stay focused. Once they call out action, the blonde looks to the camera and puts on her perfect smile before speaking in her smooth as honey voice,

“I’m Billie Dean Howard, medium to the stars, and today I will be answering some questions from twitter about what it actually means to be a medium.”

Then they cut and the director looks over the footage. And in that one minute, Billie is able to look away from the camera and flash a small smile just for you. The special attention from her is undeniably flattering and before you are conscious of it, you give her a small smile back before she’s called to attention once more.

At 12:30 pm they decide to break for lunch. When Billie begins to walk in your direction some of the Buzzfeed staff call out and ask her to join them for lunch. At first, she glances at you as if silently asking for permission. The questioning look confuses you since she is your boss, but you give her a reassuring smile and say, “I’ll get you a plate.”

The medium smiles back and murmurs quiet enough for only you to hear, “You’re such a dear to me, sweetheart.” Her soft praise makes your cheeks heat up and you give a small nod of acknowledgement before stepping away from her over to the lunch spread.

After gathering a small selection and making sure there is enough protein and nutrients to sustain your employer for the afternoon, you walk over and set down the plate, silverware, and cup full of water on the table. Everyone else keeps partaking in their lunchtime conversations however Billie pauses to look up at you from her seat and murmurs, “Thank you, y/n.” And once again, she shows you her genuine expression beneath the usually smooth exterior.

The thought that she is willing to even give you a glimpse of that side of her makes your insides flutter and you grin at seeing that special part of her again while replying, “You’re welcome.” But the intimate moment is broken by someone saying Billie’s name to speak with her.

So you back up from the group and grab a small lunch for yourself, sitting off in a side area as you work on your phone, emailing and calling different people to confirm Billie’s schedule in New York City in between bites.

Because they all started eating before you did, you still eat when they resume filming and listen to Billie continue to show her wit and sassiness with each answer. And by the time Buzzfeed wraps for the day, you’ve called Jared to make dinner and made sure housekeeping has her luggage all set up to head out the door.

As you end the phone call, Billie sneaks up behind you and murmurs in your ear, “Let me ride home with you.” You gasp, whipping around to face her. And at the same time, you check to see if anyone else is close enough to hear, but there’s no one around.

So you meet the medium’s gaze and whisper, “I-I don’t know. Maybe we shouldn’t.” She chuckles and leans in before whispering with a wink, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

There is no way you can think rationally while keeping eye contact with her.

Your eyes look down to your well-worn, scuffed up work shoes and your teeth worry your lower lip in thought, drawing Billie’s attention.

“Come on,” Billie playfully pouts, prompting you to lift your eyes enough to take in her glossy lips when she continues, “Live on the edge a little, sweetheart. I’ll make it worth your time.” Her low, husky voice that somehow remains honey-like melts your last shred of resolve and you hesitantly relent, “Ok…you can ride with me.” The medium smiles and when you meet her eyes again, her pupils are dilated in lust.

Without thinking she leans in closer to you almost like she’s going to kiss you. But you can’t go that far in public. Before you can even say anything, a look of recognition crosses her face and she backs away, venturing to look around and fading back into her casual demeanor prior to asking, “Shall we?”

By now your breath is caught in your throat and your eyes are misty in a mixture of shock, arousal, and shame at your conduct. But you avert your gaze and clear your throat to conceal the turbulent thoughts whirling around in your head and rasp, “Yep.” before leading Billie to your car.

The car ride to Billie’s house is relatively quiet, save for the couple words exchanged between the 2 of you and the radio softly playing in the background. But the silence is nice after being in a bustling studio without any real quiet moments in addition to what transpired before you left. As usual you drive with one hand on the wheel while leaning the other arm on the central console and because you’re focused on the road, you miss Billie taking small glances at you, noticing how your fingers tap to the beat of the music.

Today she is the one who desires to hold your hand that seems so close to her own. But unlike you in the car ride home yesterday, she initiates action and smoothly takes your hand, intertwining her warm fingers with yours. While your eyes remain on the road, your body automatically opens to her touch. However, you’re still a little shaken up by the whole—almost kiss in public—situation, so you stay quiet.

Billie notices your silence but assumes it’s from the long day of work. To break the stillness she gives your hand a light squeeze while commenting, “Your hands are freezing, sweetheart. Are you cold?” You smile at her observation, but keep your eyes on the road and reply, “My hands are pretty much always cold. But I’m alright.”

Your employer lets out a hum of understanding, however she silently brings her other hand up to sandwich your cool one between her two warm ones. The heat of her touch does help to melt away some of the insecurity from earlier.

After a couple more minutes of not speaking, Billie softly admits, “I missed sharing lunch with you today, y/n.” Immediately flames of doubt burn at the knots of anxiety in your stomach and you can’t help but ask, “Really?” You even give her a quick side glance to see she looks down at her hands that cradle your one hand.

However you look back to the road and don’t see her face when she lifts her head to look at your profile and honestly answers, “Y/n, I always enjoy spending time together.”

You know you should walk away from this whole thing and make it clear you aren’t just some person to use. But there’s that genuine, heartfelt voice again and you find yourself quietly admitting, “I-I enjoy it too.” Both of you go quiet again, but it’s a more comfortable silence and as she delicately caresses your hand your uncertainty ebbs away once more.

After you pull into her driveway and park your car, you finally look to Billie and she says with a smile, “Thank you, sweetheart.” Your core warms at her words and you softly reply, “You’re welcome.”

Now you squeeze her hand like she did with you earlier. The action prompts the blonde to look at you with an even bigger smile and you smile back at her, glad to be alone. However, you both know you’re short on time. So she brings your now warm hand to her lips and presses a kiss to the top of your knuckles before releasing it.

You reluctantly take your hand back and tell her, “Jared should have dinner ready, but I’ll have him keep it warm while you change into something more comfortable.” Billie nods in understanding before murmuring, “You’re the absolute best, y/n.” Her compliment prevents reality from completely crushing the moment and you find your cheeks feel tight from smiling so wide, but you avert your eyes and try to reply in a demure tone, “Thank you.”

Then the medium surprises you when she brings a hand up to cup your cheek. The intimate touch prompts your eyes to flick up and when you meet hers, her thumb brushes against your cheekbone. “You’re more than welcome, sweetheart.” Billie purrs with a smirk.

You both step out of your car and walk into her grand home. Then she ascends the elaborate staircase to go to her bedroom. You can’t help but watch her hips sway as she goes. She must realize you continue to watch her walk up to the second floor because before she disappears from your sight, she looks back to flash one more smile. After she’s gone you shake your head to clear your thoughts and go to make sure all of her luggage is loaded into the car she’s taking to the airport before placing your own luggage in and going to her chef to tell him she’s ready to eat.

After you’ve spoken with Jared you sit at the breakfast nook and a short time later, Billie meanders in, warmly greeting him. The medium now wears charcoal gray tapered sweatpants, an oversized, mauve-colored sweatshirt, and her black ugg moccasin slippers that always look so cozy and warm. But you can’t justify paying so much for shoes when your paycheck mainly goes to paying for rent. You don’t see her in lounge clothes often, but even in these clothes without any makeup on, Billie manages to maintain a distinct elegance that is both attractive and admirable.

Jared says hello back and dishes up her dinner while explaining what the meal consists of. The blonde carefully listens; however she can’t help but smirk when she notices you looking her over out of the corner of her eye. Once he has the meal on two plates and finishes his description, Billie thanks him before taking both plates and bringing them over to the breakfast nook where you sit to eat the meal. Then her chef begins to wash dishes like last night while you both eat.

Because he no longer looks on, Billie leans closer to you and purrs in your ear, “I noticed you checking me out. Do you like what you see, sweetheart?”

Of course she spotted you checking her out.

Your cheeks flush in embarrassment and you can’t help but duck your head a little as you squeak, “Yes.” Her low chuckle fills your ears and you feel her hand sneak around your waist low enough that it can’t be seen by the cook if he turns around and looks back at you both. Rather than pulling you close to her like last night, she merely uses the contact to maintain her intimate presence while murmuring, “Oh I am going to thoroughly enjoy our little trip to New York City.”

‘Our trip?!’ This isn’t your trip. Yes, you’re going…but it’s to serve Billie.

Her choice of words draws you to your senses and you turn to face her, inches from her lips when you whisper, “You’re gonna have interviews and pr for your tv show—”

But she cuts you off by assuring you, “Oh I’ll find time for you, honey.” Her eyes focus on your lips when she speaks, and you find yourself partly terrified and partly desperate for her to kiss you. However, the loud clanging of dishes in the sink snaps you out of your daze. Immediately you stiffen up and whip your head down to look at your plate.

The blonde is more subtle but makes a similar action. Even though she no longer looks at you, her arm remains around your waist as you both eat on the bench you christened just last night. After finishing your meal, you check to make sure Billie has everything she needs before heading out to the car and riding to the airport.

When you get to Los Angeles International Airport, the driver helps both of you unload your things and you and Billie walk in. Once you check in your suitcases so all you have to carry is your purses, walking around is much easier. Inevitably some paparazzi see Billie and come up to take pictures or ask questions. However a security person keeps them back by escorting you to the VIP lounge and the medium just puts on her sunglasses to dim the flash of the cameras.

The only reason you are even allowed to look into the inside of this lounge is because of Billie. You are all too familiar with the crowded, less than comfortable airport environment with harsh fluorescent lights and suspicious smells. But this exclusive waiting lounge it’s a completely different experience. There’s no one else around at the moment, every single seat is a leather recliner like the ones in fancy movie theaters with corresponding cup holders and charging outlets. Even the lighting is dimmed and orange based rather than blue so it’s less jarring. And all of the food and drinks are complimentary so you can basically order whatever you would like and someone will bring it to you. Basically this lounge takes the stress out of traveling and if you had the money to pay for a membership like Billie does, you would too.

Billie struts in first and a server immediately scurries up while inquiring, “Good evening, Miss Howard. Do you need anything at the moment? Can I interest you in something to eat or drink?” Your employer lets the straps of her purse slide down from the top of her shoulder to the bend of her elbow and removes her sunglasses as she replies, “I’ll take…a coke with lime slices, extra ice, and whatever she wants.”

The addition to her order makes your eyes widen and even the server’s brows furrow at you being acknowledged to order. Meanwhile Billie looks down to her purse while rummaging around for something. So you look to the server and clear your throat, but still sound hoarse when you stutter out, “Um…I-I’ll just take a water please.” The staff member gives you a cursory smile before replying, “I’ll be right back with those.” And they speed off.

Your gaze turns in Billie’s direction when she exclaims, “There it is!” Then she pulls out her lip balm and you watch her apply the deluxe chapstick to her lips. And as she does, she playfully wiggles her eyebrows and teases, “Gotta make sure my lips are still kissable.” Automatically, you scan the room for witnesses, but it is empty. And the medium just chuckles and muses, “Always so shy, y/n.” You look back to see her smirking as her eyes slowly trail over you.

“Here are your drinks. If you need anything else, please tell me.” The unexpected voice of the server behind you causes you to jump out of your skin making Billie grin as she takes both glasses and looks to the staff member before smoothly replying, “We will. Thank you, honey.”

At the moment your stress levels are off the charts. If your heart was beating any faster, it would fly right out of your chest. When the staff member walks away, you let out the shuddering breath you inhaled and the medium says with a smirk, “Shall we?” You’re still too flustered to speak so you simply nod and follow her to some of the more secluded leather seats.

Billie lets you sit first and once you’re seated, she holds out your water while murmuring, “Here you go, sweetheart.” You take the cup with a meek thank you and make yourself drink a generous sip as your heart rate slows and Billie’s eyes feel like embers on your face while she closely observes every move you make.

After the liberal sip, you set your cup down in the holder and look to your employer. She gives you a devious smile and asks with a raised eyebrow, “Comfortable?”

How could you not be? You don’t need to rush off anywhere and you have a gorgeous woman by your side who seems to enjoy your company as much as you do hers.

Her eyes continue to rove over you to the point that it feels like you lay bare before her and you find her cheeks warming as you reply, “Y-yes. Are you?” You see her beautiful smile expand. “Almost,” Billie begins before reaching out to take your hand and intertwine her fingers with yours. Her petite hand gently squeezes yours with her deep inhale and when she exhales, her grip relaxes and she lets her head rest back against the head cushion and sighs, “Perfect.”

The medium’s hand feels so soft and supple from the luxury hand cream she uses religiously and find yourself once again looking down at her neatly trimmed, light pink nails.

There’s no way you’re just a one-night stand deal. Not with how she is acting towards you. Of course you’ve never had sex with an A-list celebrity, but you know the start of a relationship when you see one. This isn’t your first rodeo. Should you pull your hand away from your boss’s? Probably. But are you really going to withdraw from her warm and gentle embrace? Not at the moment.

So you try to mimic Billie’s relaxed position and lean back against the plush seat.

Rather than trying to do anything else, you close your eyes, allowing yourself to just relish in the blonde’s touch. Billie looks over to see your eyes flutter shut similar to when you’re about to orgasm from her touch. The way you so easily relax into her hold warms Billie’s insides in both lust and endearment. But she also understands you have a life beyond serving hers and doesn’t want you to feel held back. So she gratefully takes any affection you offer, but manages her expectations. You’re young. Someday you’ll find someone to settle down with and they’ll be lucky to have you.

Even though your eyes are closed, you sense Billie watching you as her thumb strokes small circles over your knuckles. You give her hand a small squeeze and open one of your eyes to peek at the blonde. The cat-like action makes her chuckle and murmur, “I don’t know how you can look so cute all of the time.” That compliment makes you open both of your eyes and look behind yourself as if checking to see if someone is behind you before looking back to her and coyly replying, “Who? You mean me?” Her eyes narrow at the self-deprecation and she playfully admonishes, “‘Do I mean you?’ Of course I mean you, darling. You’re always cute as a button. And I will continue to remind you of that until you believe it yourself.”

Billie thinks you’re cute as a button.

Her promise of repetition captures your attention and you bite your lip before softly replying, “You always look beautiful too, Billie.” So beautiful. But the moment is interrupted by a couple people walking into the lounge. Shit.

You move to jerk your hand away to your own lap, but Billie gently shushes you and soothes as they order food and drinks, “They won’t notice, sweetheart.” But your anxiety keeps you stiff and worrying your lower lip between your teeth while you watch the strangers. So she leans in closer and murmurs, “Hey.” Her unusually soft voice gets your attention and you look to her warm, chocolate brown eyes.

The concern etched on her features takes you back to the time you were sure she was going to fire you after having sex on her kitchen counter. God that feels like a lifetime ago. You can tell she must sense you’re nervous, however, like before her demeanor remains calm when she soothes, “It’ll be alright, darling. And if they do say something, I’ll take care of it. Ok?” While your instincts tell you to pull back, her genuine expression of concern wins out and you force yourself to relax a little as you nod and respond, “Ok.”

In the end, the people who entered sit in chairs on the other side of the lounge and can’t even see your hands. So there’s nothing to worry about—as usual. Once they’re settled and talking amongst themselves, the medium gives you a wink with a reassuring smile and you let out the breath that was caught in your throat because of the strangers, but also your own issues.

You know that you have problems with trusting others and it’s led to a couple of your past romantic partners walking away in frustration and bewilderment. But Billie doesn’t seem to get upset and that’s a huge relief in itself. So you slowly lean back against the chair as you were. In response Billie gives your hand a small, reassuring squeeze while murmuring, “Good girl, y/n.” And of course, her words of affirmation make you feel much, much better.

Now that you’re both resettled, you fish the book you brought to read while traveling and ask the blonde, “Would it bother you if I read a little bit?” The timid question in your meek, little voice prompts her to chuckle and reply in an amused tone, “It wouldn’t bother me at all, sweetheart.” You give her a smile and thank her in return, but before you can open the book, your phone lights up. So you pick it up and gasp when you see who messaged you. Their message is unexpected since you haven’t talked in months, but always welcome.

In her curiosity at your noise, Billie can’t help but sneak a glance over. However she just as quickly chastises herself for being nosy and picks up her own phone to occupy her wandering eyes. You both don’t speak to each other for the next hour, but the medium doesn’t miss your small laughs or smiles at whatever this mysterious person is sending. And to her own surprise, Billie feels the smallest twinge of jealousy and possessiveness over you and your shared relationship. However you’re not exclusively with her so what can she expect?

Before boarding the plane, you put your book away while asking, “Do you mind keeping an eye on my things while I run to the restroom?” Billie shows off her trademark smile and replies, “It’s no problem, honey.” So you set your purse on your seat with your phone on top so it doesn’t get lost while saying, “Thank you, Billie. I’ll be back in a minute.” Then you make the short trek to the lounge restroom which, like everything else in this exclusive section, is considerably better than the public restrooms everyone else uses.

While you’re in there, Billie hears your phone vibrate and before she can stop herself, the medium sees it’s a message from someone whose contact name is Taylor. And the message itself says, I wish I could go there with you, but we can keep in touch over messaging. I’ll miss you. 💜 The words provoke her flame of jealousy and possession once more.

Did you lie to her about being with someone? You probably didn’t mention this person because you thought your job would be in jeopardy. Maybe she’s just been projecting her own feelings on this fling the whole time.

“Ready?” Your voice calls out, bringing Billie back to reality. Her fingers flick nervously in her desire to bite her nails, but she puts on a confident smile and smoothly replies, “Ready as I’ll ever be.” You grin at her response, but don’t miss the nervous tick of her fingers. Something seems…off. However you don’t have time to ask about it. So you pick up your purse and phone and both of you are escorted by security to get on your plane to New York City.

Of course Billie has a first class seat so you do as well and once again are amazed by the discrepancy between these spacious, luxurious seats compared to economy seating. There is an ample amount of space for you both, but you still elect to be close. And the moment you even mention feeling chilly, an attendant is there with a fresh cozy, microfiber blanket just for you that’s warmed from being stored in a heated cabinet. Billie watches you snuggle under the blanket and secretly slip your shoes off, so you only wear socks and you scoot a little closer to her, longing to get some of her radiating warmth. The subtle movement makes her smirk and purr, “Do you need some attention, sweetheart?”

You could always use some attention from Billie. And judging from that damn smirk on her face she knows it too.

Your eyes lower as you softly admit, “Maybe a little bit.” Then you venture to look up and see her smiling and opening herself up to you even more as she purrs in that intoxicatingly low voice, “Well, you have my full attention, darling.” Your heart flutters at her sweet as honey demeanor, but you can’t help but question, “Are you sure? I was just being dumb—”

However your boss presses one of her fingers to your lips, effectively silencing you, and assures, “Y/n, I don’t mind giving you my full attention. Don’t you give me your full attention most of the time?” Billie pulls her finger back enough for you to answer, “Well…yeah. But—”

“Ah,” Billie says, placing her finger on your lips again before continuing, “No buts. I can assure you that it is my pleasure to give you attention. Ok?” You hesitate for a moment, but nod and softly answer, “O-ok.” The answer seems to be sufficient for the blonde, so she withdraws her finger. Then she pulls back the arm divider so nothing is between you both and you scoot as close to her as you can with your seatbelt on to lean against her side, letting out a sigh as her familiar scent of jasmine and smoke envelops you. To any onlookers you only seem a little closer than usual, but nothing overly affectionate.

About that time, one of the flight attendants comes up and says, “Good evening, Miss Howard and Miss L/n. Can I get either of you anything to eat or drink?” Immediately you go to move away, but by now Billie has her arm wrapped around your waist under the blanket and keeps you close as she casually replies, “I’ll take a red wine and…” Then she trails off and both sets of eyes looks to you. So you squeak the first thing that comes to mind: “Ginger Ale—please.” The attendant gives you both a smile, missing your internal panic, and chirps, “Of course! I’ll be right back with those.” And walks away.

When you’re alone again, you look to Billie and ask, “Do you think she noticed?” The question prompts her to giggle and softly soothe, “No I don’t think she did.” Then she leans close to your ear and presses a small kiss before murmuring, “Let me take care of you, sweetheart. I promise I’ll keep you safe.” Her warm words do help and you can’t help but get upset at yourself for always worrying.

You really are constantly a buzzkill and can never seem to relax. Before long Billie will get tired of you being a worry wart and leave—

The medium saying your name draws you out of your vortex of anxiety-driven thoughts and you look over to see Billie watching you closely with furrowed brows. Her look of concern makes your cheeks warm in shame and you can’t keep eye contact as you mutter, “I’m sorry. It’s not you—it’s me.” Billie notices your faltering gaze and to her it makes no sense why you are always so hard on yourself. So she tries to encourage you by saying, “Y/n, this isn’t anyone’s fault. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

You venture to meet her eyes after her reassurance and it feels like her darkened, intuitive orbs can see straight to your soul as she observes, “You’re pretty hard on yourself aren’t you?”

Finally, someone sees how hard you try to fight off these feelings of anxiety. It’s not that’s you’re unaware.

Your eyes automatically get misty at her recognition of your struggle and you bite your lip, attempting to keep your emotions in check as your nod.

Of course it’s at that moment the flight attendant returns and gives you your requested beverages. Both of you politely thank her, but even she seems to pick up on the current mood and merely says, “We’re just about to take off, but if you need anything once we’re up in the air please don’t hesitate to ask.” Billie gives her trademark smile and replies for you both, “Thank you so much, sweetheart.”

When the attendant is gone, rather than trying to push the conversation further, the medium loosens her hold on you to take the remote synched with your personal tv. Then she hands it over to you and murmurs, “How about you pick out something for us to watch?” You’re thankful for not having divulge all of your emotions in this moment and carefully take the remote to flip through the choices until you find one of your favorite movies.

When you press select, Billie lets out a soft hum and muses, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this before.” Those words make you gasp and you look at her while squeaking, “You haven’t—how have you not seen this? Now we have to watch this so you can see what you’ve been missing.” Your employer chuckles at your shock and horror, but leans closer to you while purring, “Enlighten me, sweetheart. I’m ready.” By then the cabin’s lights are off besides the strips to illuminate the walkway and a couple random personal headlamps on to read or write. But you’re basically shrouded in darkness with only the glow of the tv providing any direct source of light. And after watching the short video on safety, the movie begins.

Once you’re fully up in the air, Billie slides the partial door closed so you have a little more privacy and the moment the seatbelt light turns off, you both unbuckle your respective ones and you curl further into her side. In response the medium wraps both of her arms around your middle to keep you close, only shifting once and awhile to sip her wine. By now you have your legs tucked up underneath you and let yourself melt into her warm and welcoming side. The luscious notes of sweet vanilla with undertones of heat and ash bring you a sense of contentment only she can provide. You haven’t felt this blissed-out since this past Sunday night after she ‘allowed’ you to be the dominant one and held you close afterwards.

After the blonde takes her last sip of wine, instead of going to her previous position, she removes her arms from you, leaving you feeling exposed, and slips her hands out from under the blanket. The movement gets your attention and she holds her hands out in front of you both as she kisses the sensitive skin behind your ear and purrs, “You were right, darling. This pink does look lovely.” The sensation of her hot breath on your neck makes you shiver and slowly twist around to face her.

Once again, your lips nearly meet each other and you close the gap, leaning down to press a small, shy kiss on her lips. When you back up, she smiles and her dark eyes stay on yours as she returns a small kiss before lowly murmuring against your lips, “Oh come on, y/n. I know you can give me more than that.”

You smile and lean in to recapture her lips. While she does love the feeling of your lips on hers, the medium can’t help but notice you slightly tensing up after kissing longer than a couple moments. And she doesn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. Well…too uncomfortable. Fortunately, a splendid idea comes up in her head that should make you less tense. But she needs to draw out your own desire before making her move.

When Billie pulls back from your lips, your brows furrow.

You know she likes longer kisses than that. And her all too familiar, shit-eating grin is enough to know she’s up to something. With Billie—who knows what’s she has got up her sleeve.

However she makes no move except to sit back in her seat where she was and innocently say, “I apologize for interrupting your movie, darling.” Your eyes narrow as you look her over, but there’s no sign of mischief besides her little smirk. What does she have planned? You skeptically settle back in beside her and she wraps an arm around your waist to keep you close like before.

You continue to watch the movie and Billie doesn’t speak, however her teasing touch underneath the fluffy blanket definitely distracts you. In the beginning her thumb slowly strokes your side however as time goes on you feel her get bolder in her caresses and she ghosts her thumb over the outside of your breast. In fact a couple times she shifts a little closer and you’re sure she’ll brush over your nipple that’s already peaked in arousal. But then she barely skims past it. When you react by squirming and letting out the softest whimper of desire, the medium has the audacity to chuckle against your neck and rile you up even more

By the end credits, Billie has effectively aroused you to the point that you’ve gotten even closer to her and nearly gasp in need. Meanwhile your employer just laughs at your desperation and lowly inquires in your ear, “Have you heard of the mile-high club, sweetheart?” Oh, you know exactly what her plan is now. This is a legitimate thing? You’re about to find out. You look to her face with wide eyes of both fear and anticipation and whisper, “Y-yes.” Of course, that just eggs Billie on and she purrs with a smirk, “As a member myself it is my pleasure to induct you into this exclusive group.”

Your lust-filled eyes focus on Billie’s darkened one’s and she has a wicked grin as she taunts with raised brows, “You mean you’re not going to tell me this is wrong or that it’s too risky?”

At this point Billie has worn your resistance down to the point that if she slammed you back against the wall and fucked you, you wouldn’t say no—consequences be damned.

However the comment does bring you back to a sliver of reality and you hesitantly reply, “Y-you won’t get us in trouble…right?”

Your soft, timid question fuels Billie’s fire and she watches you with hooded eyes as she answers in an overly innocent voice, “That’s entirely up to you, sweetheart. The louder you get, the more likely it is that someone will come over here to check on you.” Automatically, you listen to see how loud the plane is, and the only constant noise is the low hum of the engine with variable sounds from the TV and a few conversations around you. But there really isn’t that much to conceal your noises.

But surely Billie wouldn’t try this if she didn’t think it was possible—right? You can do this. And even if you can’t—your desire is strong enough to cloud your judgement.

So you give her a firm nod and say, “Ok.”

By now another movie is starting so she leans in and purrs, “How about we watch another movie, hmm?” Whatever the movie is, it’ll provide more sound coverage and you’ll take all you can get. Rather than voicing your agreement, you go back to sitting like you were and relax into the medium’s soft and warm embrace. Meanwhile, she leans in close to your ear and kisses the sensitive flesh right behind it. And as she does you feel one of her hands under the blanket move from around your waist to the front of you. Then she cups your clothed mound in a possessive manner with her hand, making you gasp and watch her hand move under the blanket. However, your attention returns to her words as she purrs, “Keep watching the movie, darling. We don’t want you to look suspicious, do we?”

Her low, commanding voice leaves your mouth feeling dry and you know that even just all of this toying around has your core dripping in arousal. But you pull yourself together enough to rasp, “No.” And there’s that low, seductive chuckle which has an angelic ring to it again. You listen to her instructions and slowly look back to the tv, but your whole body remains focused on the distinct feeling of Billie’s fingers undoing your pants while her lips lazily tease your earlobe. And when she slips her hand into your pants and under the waistband of your panties, your legs slightly spread of their own accord.

Then you feel her slender digits slide down to dip into your core. The soft touch makes you whimper, “Billie—”

But she softly shushes you before purring in your ear, “Oh, honey, you like all of this a lot more than you let on.” That’s when you feel how truly soaked your pussy is. There’s no way you can just ‘watch the movie.’ So, rather than looking to your lap where Billie’s fingers lazily spread your arousal, you turn to look at Billie’s face. She backs up a little to make eye contact and softly jests, “I’m starting to think you want to get caught.” Then her fingers find your already sensitive clit and you bite your lip to stifle your whimper.

If there is anything you don’t want to happen, it’s getting caught.

So when she starts to rub vicious circles on your pearl, your thighs clench up and you take short breaths to prevent yourself from moaning. And without intentionally planning it, your one hand reaches out under the blanket and clenches the top of Billie’s thigh to keep rooted.

Fortunately Billie’s fingers leave your clit and allow you to take a deep breath. But she’s not done with you yet. “Is that what you want, hm? You want the flight attendant to come over here and see how desperate you are to be fucked, sweetheart?” The medium whispers and eases a finger into your tight hole. You instinctively clench up at the intrusion, but she’s there for you, brushing the pad of her thumb against your neglected clit.

“Y/n…I asked you a question and expect an answer.” She murmurs in a soft, sing-song voice as her finger begins to slowly pump in and out of you. Your lip feels sore from biting on it so hard to keep quiet. But you release your lip from your teeth and whimper, “No.”

Billie leans a little closer and places a kiss on your nose while inserting another finger into you. “No?” She mockingly whispers as her digits fill you oh so perfectly. Your back arches as much as you can in the limited space and you lowly moan, “No.” The blonde chuckles at your state of being and you whimper her name, pleading for her to start going again without spelling it out. But she shushes you with a brief kiss and her free hand comes up to cup your cheek before she soothes, “I’ve got you, darling. I’ll take care of you.”

You look into Billie’s warm, chocolate colored eyes and the moment her fingers within you begin to speed up again, you gnaw on your tender lower lip to keep your sounds contained. However you capture the medium’s thigh in a steel grip and your teeth can’t completely silence your high-pitched noise of pleasure when she strokes that sensitive spot within your depths. The TV conceals some of your groan, but your noise is distinct enough to hear over it and you see the silhouette of the flight attendant right outside of your frosted glass door.

Shit, shit, shit.

Your whole body stiffens up as she passes by. Meanwhile Billie continues to fuck you with her fingers and makes a soft shushing sound right beside your ear. Fortunately the attendant doesn’t stop walking and you bury your face in the bend of your employer’s neck to muffle your moans as she continues to stroke that sensitive spot.

Billie grins at your state and tuts her tongue before reprimanding, “Don’t think you can get loud now. You just about got caught already.” But her words don’t register with you and you keep one hand on her thigh and bring the other up to cling at her shirt while whimpering, “I’m about to cum.” no longer caring to ask permission. The blonde notices and purrs, “Oh really?” You merely nod in response and feel your whole body warm as those intense pre-orgasm twitches flow through your body.

However her hand slows and Billie asks, “Aren’t you forgetting something, darling?” You nearly sob at the torture of being edged in this circumstance. But you settle for whispering in a voice thick with emotion, “Please let me cum. Please, I need it, Billie. Please.” By now you are just about in her lap and cling to her for dear life. The medium begins to speed up her movements once more and she whispers in your ear, “Go ahead and cum for me, sweetheart.”

You don’t know if it’s the public setting, the teasing beforehand, or the way Billie strokes your sweet spot, but you end up experiencing one of the strongest orgasms you have ever had. Thank god you are biting down on her shoulder to stay quiet and she holds you close with her available arm so that any sounds that escape are muffled.

Thankfully she doesn’t push you to another orgasm and lets you settle back down from your high as she takes her hand away from you to lick off all of your essence on her fingers. Once your breathing regulates, you realize that you still keep a vice grip on the blonde’s leg and sweatshirt. So you release your hold and briefly smooth her clothing out while clearing your throat. Then you resettle back into your own seat and let your head fall back against the head rest as you close your eyes and take a deep breath.

Holy shit you can’t believe that just happened.

That’s when Billie’s giggle fills your ears and she teases, “Congratulations. You, my dear, are now an official member of the mile-high club.” On one hand this all almost feels like a cosmic joke that the universe is playing on you after wanting Billie so long. But on the other if this isn’t reality and is some vivid dream you are not complaining at all. You can’t help but let out a breathless laugh at the absurdity of it all before replying, “How exciting.”

At this point you finally open your eyes to look at the blonde. Her mauve sweater still looks a little scrunched up from your hold. But besides that she radiates an aura of effortless perfection. You don’t know how she does it, but any time day or night you swear Billie has her hair perfectly set and her face even without any makeup looks glowing with a perfect sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks. You can only dream to look that good.

As you stare, the medium’s luscious lips form into a smirk and she leans towards you. Her hand comes up to give your cheek a small pinch as she teases, “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” It’s only then that you realize how long you’ve been gawking at her.

Pull yourself together.

You automatically look down and shake your head as you mutter, “Sorry.” However, Billie takes your chin between her thumb and pointer finger and guides you to look at her face. That’s when you see the blonde’s reassuring smile. “Hey, who said I didn’t want that? Sweetheart I am made for the cameras.” She soothes with a wink. You let out your higher-pitched, schoolgirl-esque giggle at her confidence and for the first time you aren’t embarrassed or ashamed by the noise.

For a moment you share eye contact and watch Billie’s eyes shift from her charismatic, fiery warmth to a softer brown that reminds you of the molasses cookies your mother makes for Christmas each year. Then she leans in and gives you a light kiss before whispering against your lips, “Without you being so close I’m getting a little chilly. Do you think you could help me out, sweetheart?” And to add onto her smooth as honey voice, the medium tilts her head so she looks up to you through her long lashes.

Billie Dean Howard is going to be the death of you. But hey—at least you’ll die happy.

You return a small, shy smile and scoot closer to her while answering, “I’ll try to help.” The blonde chuckles at your response and wraps both of her arms around you. When you’re snuggled back into her side the same way you were cuddled before while watching the movie, you partially nuzzle into Billie’s silky locks and she lets out a hum of pleasure and amusement before murmuring, “Oh sweetheart, you’re helping so much already.” The vibration of her voice helps to warm your entire body and you’re grateful you have another hour on the plane as you softly reply, “Good.”

By the time you walk up to the check in desk at your hotel, it’s just past 2 in the morning. Luckily since you’re used to Pacific Standard Time it only feels like 11:00pm. However, you have to wake up at 6:30 this morning which will feel like 3:30 in the morning to you.

3:30. You are going to need more than 2 cups of coffee to keep you going.

The luxurious, 5-star hotel lobby is empty except for a couple of staff members so checking in is a breeze. Then the hotel concierge hands Billie her room key before giving you one to your room and they ask with a pleasant smile, “Would you like any help bringing your luggage up to your room?” On your part, you only have one rolling suitcase as well as a small purse. Billie has a large suitcase and purse, so you look to her for direction.

She looks to them and gives her trademark smile as she murmurs, “I think we’re good. Thank you, sweetheart.” So they wish you a goodnight and you make the short walk to the elevators.

Once you’re inside one and ascending to the 27th floor, Billie asks, “Can I see your room key for a second?” Without thinking you reply, “Sure.” And hand it over. However you quickly recognize your error when she tosses it into her bag and says, “We won’t be needing that.” Your eyes widen at her action and for a moment you are stunned into silence. However you make yourself speak up and stutter, “Wait, Billie, that’s—that’s the key for my room.”

The medium chuckles at your words and teases, “Would it really be that bad to stay with me? I mean—I can look for it in my bag…or we can just share my room?”

That little minx! She isn’t wrong though. Sleeping with Billie for a couple nights? That is a dream come true.

So you let out a sigh and tiredly relent, “We—we can share your room.” She gets her Cheshire cat grin and as the elevator door opens, she purrs, “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” You let her step out first and as she leads the way you can’t help but wonder what your boss has in store for you for the next couple days.

Tagged: @marilynroselleprentiss, @saviorinsilk, @chokemepaulson, @versonstar, @find-me-a-constellation, @cordwliagoode, @psychobitchtess, @midnight-lestrange, @mysweetdelia, @venablesbitch, @peachesandlesbians, @nerdaroo, @cordeliafoxxe, @leskaksel, @lovelymspaulson, @grilledcheeseandguavajelly, @whatabluddymess, @natasha-danvers, @saucy-sapphic, @marvelfansince08love, @wilheminawinters, @dontsblameme, @mssallymckenna

Let me know if you would like to be tagged in later works!

Part 6

#Business And Pleasure #AHS #ahs imagine #ahs fic #ahs fanfic #ahs billie dean howard #billie dean howard #billie x reader #billie dean howard imagine #billie dean howard x reader #ahs sarah paulson #sarah paulson #ahs sarah paulson’s characters #ahs murder house #AHS Murderhouse #ahs hotel #ahs apocalypse

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lumiereandcogsworth · 4 years ago

Note

Hugs: 34 HEHE

hehehe yes!!

prompt: hugging while grabbing butt

word count: 726

this is on ao3 now!

—

The ball was rather crowded that evening. There seemed to be more guests than Adam would have liked, or Belle, for that matter. His wife coped with the crowd by dancing, as she often did now that she’d managed to work out the steps for even the most dazzling of songs. And, she had found, she very much loved to dance.

Adam would be dancing with her himself, by all accounts, but some duke had wrangled him into a conversation that had, initially, interested him enough to skip one dance. But unfortunately the interchange had dragged on for two more, and Adam had swiftly lost interest. Every now and then, the king would make a side glance to the dance floor, watching his wife twirl around, a graceful smile with a focused gaze. His eyes lingered on her for a while as her dress effortlessly swayed and his longing to dance with her grew.

He was snapped out of his trance when the dance ended. Both ladies and gentlemen ceased their jubilous stepping and turned to applaud the orchestra. Belle’s partner, one of the more decorated soldiers who’d been invited, bowed to her and kissed her gloved hand. She smiled politely, and the ballroom slowly scattered into a mingle of guests rather than an organized line of dancers. Belle looked for her husband at once, finding him along the wall after a short search.

“Your Majesty!” The duke said in a bow as Belle came to Adam’s side. “Enjoying the splendor of the dance floor?”

“I am! I actually came over to see if I might be able to dance the next one with my husband.” She said, smiling up at Adam and touching his arm.

His eyes hadn’t left her since she came over. He grinned, “of course, darling.” A waiter walked by at just the right time. Adam set his empty champagne glass on the waiter’s tray and turned back to the duke. “Marvelous conversation, we must speak on this further.”

“Indeed. Your Majesty,” the duke bowed. “Madame,” he nodded to Belle and then parted from the couple.

Adam waited for a moment, then turned to his wife. “My God, thank you for saving me.”

Belle laughed, linking her arm through his as they turned to meander about the room before the next dance started. “I could tell you were getting exhausted with him. Is he the same one you were speaking with before the last dance?”

“And the one before,” he rolled his eyes. “This is why I hate talking to people. Every time I try, it bites me in the arse and I end up miserable.”

His wife chuckled again. “Well, I happen to think it’s very brave of you. To keep talking to people at all? I don't know how you do it,” she teased.

“It is a burden on me,” he sighed, free arm folded behind his back. “Without question. It’s a wonder I manage even the slightest interactions.”

“Truly, a hero of our time.” They’d reached a slightly less populated corner of the party. She stopped their stroll and stood in front of him, reaching her arms around his waist under his coat. “The people are lucky to have you as their king.” She grinned. Her hands slyly began sliding down his back, stopping at his behind.

“Darling!” He looked around at once, making sure they didn’t have an audience. “What if someone sees?”

“I haven’t seen you in at least an hour. I’m afraid I’ve forgotten all that there is that makes up my dear husband. I’ll have to remind myself.”

His eyes flickered at their surroundings. “But must you start there?”

“No one can see! Your coat reaches halfway down your legs. Besides, haven’t you missed me too?”

Adam sighed, unable to do anything else but smile at this. “Of course, I have.”

She grinned, hugging him closer. Adam dismissed his worries and wrapped his arms around her, happy to have her in his embrace again, even with her hands so provocatively on his posterior.

Before long, the music started up again, signaling the guests to the forthcoming dance number. The couple parted from each other, playful grins on either of their faces. Adam stepped back and held out his hand. “Might I have this dance, beauty?”

She blushed, taking his hand at once. “Always, my love.”

#hehehehe THEY #beauty and the beast #batb 2017 #batb fic #beauty and the beast 2017 #batb fanfic #adelle #lydia writes!

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yixxes · 5 years ago

Text

I Told You So | p.p.

Warnings: none

Word count: 696

Summary: Peter knew better, but he loves you too much to say I Told You So.

“I’m just saying,” Peter told you for what seemed like the tenth time since you started getting ready. “he’s sort of a player, and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

He was so against the idea of you going to the dance with Dylan Montgomery. When he first asked you, Peter gave you the same cautious speech he was giving you right now. It was the night of the dance and you were finishing up getting ready. Said player would be on his way soon if he wasn’t already.

“Come on, P, he’s sweet! Besides, I’m a big girl, I think I can handle Dylan Montgomery.”

“Okay,” he said with raised hands. “I’m sorry, I won’t say anything else about him. Just be careful, okay?”

“Okay, dad.” you mused in the middle of applying your favorite lip gloss. “It’s not too late to come, you know. I can wait up for you if you wanna slip on a suit real quick.”

Peter shook his head without looking up from his fidgeting hands. “Think I’ll pass.”

“Come on. There’s gotta be some lucky girl sitting by her phone waiting for you to call.”

You missed the way that he looked at you while you slipped a dainty bracelet onto your wrist. “No, she’s... she’s goin to the dance with a very lucky guy.”

“Well forget about her!” you said, oblivious as ever as you stepped into your heels.”Come and hang out with your friends, and with Dylan and I, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“Really, I’m, uh.. I’m okay.” No amount of pleading was gonna do the trick and you knew it.

With a sigh, you shuffled over to him with a small smile. “How do I look?”

“Y/n!” Your mom called you from downstairs before Peter could answer. “Dylan’s here, come down, sweetheart!”

“You’re beautiful.” he smiled genuinely. “Have a good time, okay? Call me when you make it back here tonight.”

“I will!”

“Come on, P, he’s sweet! Besides, I’m a big girl, I think I can handle Dylan Montgomery.”

As it turned out, Dylan Montgomery and sweet weren’t synonymous or interchangeable. The night started out okay. He was such a charming sweet talker, but no amount of charm could make up for how horribly the date turned out. He left you to get a couple of drinks, or at least that was what he told you. You went to look for him after he’d been gone for a while and instead of drinks, you found him locking lips with some girl against the wall near the bathrooms.

You could’ve gone off, and maybe you should have, but drawing attention to the situation would only humiliate you. Embarrassed and defeated, you turned to leave, deciding that the dance wasn’t worth it anymore. Before you could get very far, though, you were met with a wide eyed Peter Parker who was handsomely dressed up in a suit.

“Peter?”

“Hey! I... thought I might stop by for a second, maybe stay for a few minutes, it... hey, is everything okay?”

You very seriously considered lying. You had stupidly disregarded his caring warning and now here you were, damn near crying at the dance in front of so many people. You didn’t want a reminder that he warned you, but he’d see the lie from a mile away. Peter wasn’t someone you could be dishonest with.

“Yeah, just that my date ditched me to make out with some girl in a corner.”

“What?” His shy smile was no more. He scowled, beyond pissed at the fact that Dylan would do something so cruel. “Y/n, I-”

“Please don’t try saying that he’s an idiot or that I deserve better because that never helps it just makes me more embarrassed.”

“That isn’t what I-”

“And please don’t say that you told me so because I know that that’s what you came here to do, but I just really can’t hear that right now.”

“Y/n,” he called your attention back to him firmly. “all I came here to say was,” Peter folded one arm behind his back and extended the other out to you. “May I have this dance?”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland #avengers imagine #avengers #mcu imagine #mcu

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sweet-barnes · 5 years ago

Text

From Princess to King - Prince!Bucky

Pairing: Prince!Bucky x Princess!Reader

Word Count: 4.7K

Summary: She is known as the Prince in her kingdom and is accepted by her people and her family, but that acceptance isn’t shared by everyone, not even by the family she is marrying into.

A/N: happy pride month! all you guys have my full support no matter what, i am here for you! i thought i’d write a Royal AU that’s a lil bit different, being fluid in your gender should be embraced and you should be able to identify as whatever makes you feel comfortable! so here’s a girl who embraces her masculine and feminine qualities, changes her titles to the masculine versions in public and dresses interchangeably in a time that wasn’t so accepting of it. Feedback is always appreciated!

Moodboard

The weight of the sword steadied you, grounded you and rooted you in your stance. You let out a deep breath and felt your mind entering a calm state as you closed your eyes. Taking one last breath, you snapped your eyes open and a grunt left your mouth as the sword swung around your body, heading straight for your opponent.

The sound of metal on metal echoed through the training pitch, the young warriors around you flinching at the harsh sound. You paid no mind to them, swinging ferociously in well timed sequences to catch your opponent off guard. They met every strike with a block from their own sword or a slight move of their body, dodging each on coming attack. Your frustration grew as you were unable to get a hit, causing you to become more erratic and unpredictable in your movements.

Soon, it was hard for your opponent to keep up, frantically trying to block each blow but soon it was too much and your sword was clanging against their chainmail.

The sound indicated the end of the training demonstration. Your opponent - one of the knights of the Royal Guard - stepped in front of you and both of you bowed to show your respect towards one another.

You turned your body outwards, towards the on-looking trainees that were stood in awe at the fight they had just witnessed.

“You need to stay focused, analyse your opponents movements and act accordingly,” your voice was strong and powerful as you spoke out to the group. “Your life may depend on it.”

You heard the scurrying of feet behind you as you finished your sentence. You turned as smoothly as you could in your own chainmail armour to come face to face with one of the palace’s messengers.

“Your highness,” the boy bowed in front of you and you dipped your head in response. “Your presence is requested in your Mother’s chambers.” You knew instantly what was about to happen. The plan had been in motion for the better part of 8 months and the time was creeping closer and closer. You nodded, letting the messenger know you would be right there.

You turned back to the group of trainees, “partner up, the Royal Guard will take over your training from here, I expect great things from you.” You flashed your bright smile at them, letting out a small laugh before adding, “see you whenever I see you I guess.”

With that, you turned and made your way to the small stables located at the entrance of the training pitch. Your jet black stallion waiting patiently for you. You let out a sigh, giving his snout a stroke just before placing your foot in the stirrup and throwing your foot over his body, landing heavily in the saddle with all of your armour still on.

“This could be our last ride my old boy,” your voice was wistful as you pulled yourself out of the covering. “Let’s make it a good one.”

Just a moment later, you were galloping through the large open fields, a smile spread across your face despite the tears that were rising to your eyes. You’d miss this feeling and you wondered if you were to be allowed this freedom where you were going next in your life.

You shook away the thought and focused on the ride you were having now, not wanting to miss a moment of it.

You uttered your thank you’s to the Royal Guards who opened the doors to your Mother’s chambers. A few maids were hurrying around the room, fabrics, food and other packages in their arms as they scuffled around.

You met your mother’s eyes at the other side of the large room and made your way over to her. She gave you a fond smile as she looked you up and down with you stood before her in your gamebeson. “You always remind me of your father when you put your armour on, so strong and independent.”

You simply smiled at her and she stood to press a kiss to your forehead. “You have a letter from your new kingdom, a welcoming.” You were handed an envelope, ivory in colour and the seal of your new home was stamped in wax to seal it.

You pulled it open, uncovering the crisp paper inside and the handwritten words. You immediately noticed your title.

“They’ve called me Princess again,” you huffed, glaring at your mother as she passed by you.

You were always known as the Prince. From the moment you could form your own thoughts and words, you instantly called yourself the Prince, and whenever someone would dare call you a Princess, they would be at the receiving end of your telling offs (even at 4 years old).

So that’s the way it has always been. Later in your life, you explained to your people that you wanted to be the Prince as to not be held back by your title as a Princess. As Prince you could venture out into the world more, you would be taken more seriously and you were respected far greater than the feminine title.

You still attended balls in extravagant dresses but you also showed up in well decorated suits and capes, upstaging all the other noble and royal men within the ballroom.

There was no holding you back, however you wanted to look, however you wanted to dress, you made sure it happened and no amount of royal traditions or rules were going to stop you. You did whatever made you comfortable, and if that meant appearing more masculine, the you were happy with that.

Your parents supported you all the way. Your mother was a little hesitant at first, worrying she would never get her precious little girl back but after much reassurance for yourself and your father, promising you would always be her little girl and that you were just a bit different from all the other royal girls in the kingdom, she finally came around to the idea. Now, she was extremely proud of you and defended your choice no matter what.

Your father embraced your interest in the masculine side of ruling a country as much as he possibly could, training you in the battlefield and in royal affairs that the women wouldn’t have previously been allowed any input in. It also gave your mother a chance to get involved, feeling more confident in herself after witnessing your bravery on the matter.

The smile on his face was unforgettable when you took down your first opponent in the training pitch at 10 years old. Fast forward another 8 years and you were training the next group of young warriors to be part of the armies and possibly part of the Royal Guard, the most elite soldiers there were within the kingdom.

With all this acceptance from your family, you found it difficult when the other kingdoms did not respond in a similar way. Instead, they would dismiss your requests of being addressed as Prince and call you Princess regardless, and talk down to you as though you didn’t understand what was occurring around you.

There was only one person from your neighbouring kingdom who understood your preferred title, and that was Prince James Buchanan Barnes, or Bucky as you had grown to know him.

The first time you had met Bucky and his parents, they had greeted you as Princess and then told you to disregard the disorder with their guards as they were sorting the problem themselves and you wouldn’t understand. They quickly stopped underestimating you when you provided the perfect solution to their problem within 30 seconds of hearing it, and adding “it’s Prince Y/N” onto the end.

You saw Bucky smirk at your comeback out of the corner of your eye, a proud smile making its way onto your face as this response. From then on, you knew you’d be safe with Bucky.

Your mother voice broke you out of your train of thoughts. “Darling, I know it’s going to take some time but be patient with them, they’ll learn eventually,”

You rolled your eyes, earning a stern glare from your mother to which you apologised immediately. “I know it takes people some time, but it’s been nearly a year, and I’m going to marry their son, if someone was coming into our kingdom, I would make sure I was accommodating on every level.”

Your mother didn’t have anything to respond with, she knew you were right. Your surrounding kingdoms were not accepting of your view on tradition and tried to dampen it whenever there was a royal gathering, but your parents would never let it affect you.

“Come on sweetheart, we need to get you ready for the morning,” you let your mother lead you out of her room and down to your personal chambers, helping you prepare for your new life awaiting you.

Your heart was pounding as you looked out of your window at the houses that were scattered outside. The villagers were waving at the carriage, hoping to see a glimpse of you as you passed but you only sunk further into your seat.

“They love you already,” Wanda, your personal maid and best friend, whispered beside you. You glanced at her before moving your eyes to the window again.

“They love the idea of me, the idea of me being a good wife and Queen to Bucky,” you sighed. You knew what was to come, and your stomach turned at the thought of it.

The idea of marrying Bucky didn’t cause you as much anxiety as you thought it would when you first heard about the arrangement. Since your first meeting, he made every effort to get to know you. The real you, behind all the fancy ball gowns and suits, the royal dinners and the fronts that every royal and noble liked to portray.

You both had snuck out of your living quarters at an ungodly hour to meet and go for a walk under the stars. That night, he promised he would protect you no matter what. Even if you didn’t want to love him, even if you agreed to just be friends and only be lovers for show. He made a vow to always be the King you needed him to be, out in the kingdom and in private.

That was the night you felt your heart open for him. He held your hands softly and you felt like your skin was on fire under his touch. He provided you with so much care and respect in the short times you spent together, it made you yearn to be around him more often.

You were looking forward to the time you would have with him now. Ever since the last time you had seen him, frequent letters were sent between the kingdoms. Telling each other many things about yourself and with every detail you felt yourself falling and falling even more.

Should a Prince really be letting herself feel this way? You didn’t know, but you would accept that warmth into your life in an instant if it meant you could spend eternity with Bucky.

The people scared you though. The King and Queen scared you, you didn’t know if Bucky could protect you from them but you were willing to let him try. Before you knew it, the carriage had come to a stop and when you looked out of the window, a magnificent palace loomed over you. Elegant and commanding over the kingdom it ruled.

You took a deep breath, glancing at Wanda who reached over and gave your arm a squeeze. “You can do this, I believe in you all the way to the throne.”

You sent her a nervous smile before nodding, turning your body to the door as it was opened by one of the kingdom’s guards. You looked up and Bucky’s face was in front of yours, his toothy grin causing goosebumps down your spine and a matching one to spread across your face.

“My Prince has finally arrived,” he uttered to you, and an elated feeling spread across your chest. Hearing those words from Bucky instantly calmed your nerves. “I’m glad you are here to greet me, my Prince,” you responded. You took his outstretched hand, letting him help you step down from the carriage.

Your mother had convinced you to wear a dress for the initial meeting, but said you were allowed to wear whatever you wanted thereafter, you just needed to impress the King and Queen at first arrival.

The soft grey material stretched out behind you, flowing slightly in the wind. Mesh covered your arms and your back, gold and silver thread creating delicate patterns across the material. The skirt flowed straight down, extra layers helping to create a softer look and a simple tiara sat atop your head.

Once you were fully straightened outside of the carriage, Bucky couldn’t help his eyes wander over you. You had taken his breath away, he couldn’t believe he was marrying you in the morning. “You look gorgeous,” he whispered, his eyes coming back up to meet yours. A slight mischievous look glinted in them but it was soon replaced with endearment. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, “come on Buck, they’re all staring.”

You had noticed the audience that had surrounded you. All the guards, nobles, and royal were all looking onto yours and Bucky’s interaction, the citizens of his kingdom also watching from afar, trying to get any glimpse they could of the new arrived royalty.

“I’m not surprised,” Bucky joked but still led you towards his parents. Your anxiety picked up as the distance between you and them decreased. You were glad you were holding onto Bucky’s arm otherwise you feared you would have turned and ran away.

You felt like you were going to faint by the time you reached the King and Queen, Bucky’s grip was strong on your hand, tightening it against his strong bicep and keeping you in place. However, it was a good job he was holding onto you for very different reasons when the King greeted you.

“Princess Y/N, it’s an honour to welcome you to our kingdom for good now,” his voice was smooth and powerful but his words made anger rise in you. Before you could think to correct his mistake, Bucky was taking the words out of your mouth.

“Forgive me father, but it is Prince Y/N, not Princess,” Bucky held his gaze with his father for a few seconds, almost like they were communicating without words before his father conceded. “My apologies, Prince Y/N, please forgive me.”

You accepted his apology before being guided into the lavish palace that awaited you.

You looked up at Bucky and he was already staring down at you, you sent him a soft smile as a thank you that made his heart swell.

You were guided to a large chamber, a luxurious bed in the middle with red and gold drapes hanging at every window. The dresser, wardrobe and drawers were all made of solid mahogany wood and the gold handles stood out perfectly on them. Your eyes went wide at the sight in front of you, you had grown so used to the luxury at your own palace, seeing others made you realise truly what kind of lifestyle you led.

“Do you like it?” It was only you and Bucky in the room now. All your belongings had been dropped off and you were left alone for some time together before the dinner that evening. You hummed in response, turning to face him as he walked closer to you.

Before you knew it, he had scooped you in his arms with a grunt, earning a small squeal from yourself followed by a giggle. He flung you both onto the king sized bed and gave you a moment to settle before speaking again.

“I missed you,” his eyes were roaming your face, your tiara had fallen onto the sheets and pieces of your hair had fallen over your face. A gentle hand came and brushed them away, his fingers lingering on the side of your face before cupping your cheek in his rough yet kind hand.

Your eyes met his ocean blue ones, his pupils dilating at they looked into yours. “I missed you too,” you whispered. These were the moments you longed for when you weren’t near him. No amount of letters could fill this void of his touch and his smell and his voice.

Bucky inched forward, his breath fanning across your lips as he stopped in front of your face. A moment passed before his eyes closed and he gently placed his soft lips against yours. They were warm and tender, and you felt yourself instantly melt into his touch. From the one kiss, you could tell how much he cared for you and there was nothing that could rival that.

He broke away too soon for your liking and the soft whimper that left you caused a chuckle to rise from his chest. He moved his hand to rest around your waist, pulling your body so it was flush against his. “I’m sorry about my parents, they’re just not used to the Prince thing yet but I promise I have been correcting them every single time, they’re very stubborn.” You shook your head, “I believe you Buck, I just wish they understood what it meant to me.”

Bucky saw the hurt in your eyes and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I promise we will make them see, they will call you their Prince for eternity.” You giggled at him as he over exaggerated his words.

“What will we do when I’m made Queen?” You voice was quiet and Bucky could hear the worry seeping through. “You will not be my Queen, you will be my King.” Bucky’s voice was stern, he meant every word, you could feel it in your bones.

“I wouldn’t mind being your Queen though,” you moved your gaze down, fiddling with the lapel on Bucky’s hand tailored suit. “Just for you.” Bucky didn’t know what to say. For as long as he had known you, you always insisted on masculine pronouns, and now you were willing to change that just for him?

“Are you serious?” His voice came out as a whisper. His fingers moved under your chin, forcing your head up to make eye contact with him. “You need to tell me if you’re serious or not, doll.”

You smiled up at him, at the anxiety in his eyes at your words. “Of course I am, my Prince, I will always be your Queen, it can be our thing.” Bucky didn’t reply, instead he caught your lips in another one of his heated kisses, making you feel at home at last.

It was the day of the wedding. You had been woken early to start the preparations for the day and you were already exhausted at 9am, you didn’t know how you were going to last for the rest of the day.

Wanda was stood behind you at the dresser, taking out the rollers you had slept in to reveal your wavy hair. She let out a sigh, running her fingers through your soft curls. “I’ve been waiting for this day since I first met you, it seems like so long ago but my dreams of you becoming my King are finally starting to come true, I just know you’re the perfect person for it, especially with Bucky at your side.”

Her words caused a smile to grace your face as you looked at her in the mirror. “I don’t know if I can be king here, Bucky accepts it and supports me but the rest of the kingdom seem against it, they’re just not willing to change.” Your eyebrows furrowed together as you thought of the dinner last night.

“The topic came up with the King and Queen when they mentioned me becoming Queen, I put forward that I would be grateful if I were to be called King, that it would make me feel more comfortable in my role and they turned their noses up at the very idea.” Wanda saw the anguish in your face and dropped her hands to your shoulder, giving them a gentle rub to sooth you.

You carried on, “Bucky came to defend me, and they even shot him down, saying it was not normal and not tradition so it could not happen. Word must have got out, I heard the people protesting outside this morning, they clearly do not want to accept that change either, I don’t know what to do anymore.”

At that moment, Bucky walked in. A white suit adorning his large figure, detailed with gold embellishments and thread, his short hair styled perfectly. He took your breath away when you saw him, your eyes dancing over him and taking as much in as you could.

He looked like a god to you, and you never wanted him to be out of your sight.

“You look perfect Buck,” you said after a moment, a grin lighting up his face as he walked over to you. Wanda stepped out of the way, busying herself with preparing your outfit. You snapped yourself out of it quickly though, “Bucky, you’re not supposed to be in here, we’re not supposed to see each other until we’re getting married!”

The panic caused Bucky to chuckle a little, kneeling down in front of you. “I know, but we break tradition enough already, what’s one more thing?” His soft voice calmed your nerves instantly and you settled back into your chair.

Your hand reached towards him and he instinctively took it in his, his thumb brushing over your delicate skin. “I know you’ve heard the people outside, but I will not let them get to you, they can say whatever they want but you will be King of this land some day, no one can say otherwise.”

You shook your head, “They’ll push me out before I can even become their King, James,” the use of his real name caused a spike of worry in his heart, you never used his real name unless it was serious. “Doll, look at me,” Bucky insisted, his other hand moving to rest on your leg, squeezing it a little to get your attention.

“They may think that now, but once I am King, I will allow whatever you want, and no one can stop me because I will be their ruler, I will not let anyone suppress what you want in this life.”

You lent forward, letting your lips gently graze over his. You felt Bucky smile before he fully connected your lips, sending your head reeling until he pulled away. You eyes followed him as he stood and he let out a laugh, “don’t look at me like that, you need to get ready to be my wife!”

You rolled your eyes at him as he left the room and Wanda walked back over to you. “Wife, huh?” She was giving you the eye in the mirror and you shook your head, you couldn’t help the smile that took over your face. “Yeah, it’s our thing.”

Your foot was tapping against the floor of the carriage as you pulled in front of the great cathedral. The only thing that kept your mind in the present was the fact that Bucky was waiting inside for you, waiting to become your husband.

Wanda was sat next to you, her pastel red dress flowing over her body perfectly. You looked down at your own dress, knowing you would be much more comfortable in a suit but your mother was inside and you wanted to be her little girl one last time. She deserved to see you in a wedding dress on your big day.

It clung to your body in all the right places, the long lace trail laid throughout the carriage at to not crease it in any way. The back of the dress was open, buttons going down along your spine, as you knew Bucky liked it when you wore dresses like that and your hair was decorated with the wild flowers of your own kingdom. An ancient tiara sat atop your head, one that had been in Bucky’s family for centuries. Ivory laced adorned the white material of your dress, creating beautiful patterns along it.

Your bouquet, that you were holding rather tightly - Wanda had to tell you to loosen your grip a few times on the way to the cathedral - was made up of sunflowers and rose. It stood out wonderfully against the pale colour of your dress.

The time between getting out of the carriage and making your walk down the aisle to Bucky was a blur. You focused on him the whole way down, noticing the tears rolling down his cheeks at the sight of you. You made a mental note to tease him about that later on when you were in private.

The ceremony went smoothly. Flowing as naturally as it could with the nerves of you and Bucky causing some jitters, and under the watchful eye of both your mothers and fathers.

You had caught your mother crying a few times, your father holding her hand whenever she did and you sent her a warming smile to comfort her. It must be hard seeing your baby become an adult so quickly.

It wasn’t until the end of the ceremony that there was a problem, and Bucky was not shy in correcting it.

“Please, citizens of our Kingdom, please welcome your new Princess, Y/N.” There was eruption of cheering outside but you felt yourself sink inwards. Bucky made eye contact with you, gripping your hand tighter than he had already been and turned towards the bishop.

“I am sorry Sir, but you are mistaken, it is Prince Y/N,” you could tell Bucky was frustrated, you could see it in the way his jaw clenched and the muscles flexed under his cheeks. The bishop’s eyebrows furrowed. “Pardon me Prince James, but she is clearly a woman, she is a Princess.”

Bucky shifted his weight, letting out a sigh. He turned to face the audience, everyone looking onto the problem that was unfolding. He pulled you closer to him, his arm circling your waist. “This is my Prince, Y/N, you shall all welcome her and address her this way, I will not tolerate for anything other than this title.”

Murmurs rustled through the crowd, Bucky’s mother and father sharing a look with each other before looking back at the pair of you. “If I hear anyone addressing her in a different way, there will be consequences.”

With this, Bucky turned to face you, your eyes wide after his announcement. You shared your first kiss as a married couple there, under the eyes of the kingdom, finally feeling at home in Bucky’s embrace. Maybe now they would accept you, only time would tell.

The kiss was over too soon, Bucky had pulled away and was leading you down through the aisle, passed everyone who was staring at you but you didn’t pay any attention to them. Your eyes were on the man that loved you enough to protect you from his whole kingdom.

You arrived outside to a cheering crowd of citizens, but you rushed straight to the horse and carriage, Bucky helping you inside and gathering your dress before jumping in next to you. It set off immediately, back to the palace where you were to get ready for the celebration later that evening, but you had a feeling Bucky had something else in mind before the event.

The fields of flowers and wheat passed you outside the windows, the birds singing and only the sound of the horses could be heard. You stared at Bucky, taking in his beauty in that moment.

He turned his face towards you, smirking when he noticed your gaze was already on him. “Like what you see?” He joked, and you nudged him before he captured you in his strong arms, pulling you as close as possible.

“I definitely like what I see, my Prince.”

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