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muiitoloko · 5 months ago

Note

Hi!! Could you please write the second part for "The Price of Pride"? I loved the first one, thank you!!!🤩

Title: Shattered Facades

Summary: The mission forces Harry and Gawain to face the truths they’ve been hiding, leading to a raw confrontation and a new beginning.

Pairing: Harry Hart × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Jealousy, Smut.

Author's Notes: Hope you enjoy part two! 🫶

First and Second part here.

Also read on Ao3

Later that day, you were tasked with stocking one of the Kingsman safe houses with supplies and replenishing the weaponry. It was a routine assignment, one that you’d done countless times before, but today, your mind was anything but focused on the task at hand.

The training session with Harry earlier that day had left you rattled, your emotions swirling in a confusing mix of anger, hurt, and something else—something you desperately tried to push aside but couldn’t quite ignore. Every time you closed your eyes, you could still feel the press of Harry’s body against yours, the heat of his breath on your skin, the way his voice had sent shivers down your spine.

But then you remembered his words from that night in the safe house, the way he had cruelly mocked your feelings, belittling the very thing you had tried so hard to keep hidden. Your admiration for him had always been an open secret, something you couldn’t quite hide, even when you tried. You had always hung on his every word, looked up to him in a way that went beyond professional respect. To you, Harry had been everything—mentor, friend, the man you quietly, foolishly, loved.

And that was exactly what made his words that night cut so deeply. He had seen through you, seen how much you cared, and instead of acknowledging it with kindness or understanding, he had used it against you, twisted it into something ugly and pathetic.

As you loaded the last of the supplies into the car, you couldn’t stop the bitter snort that escaped your lips. His apology yesterday had been laughable. He said he missed you, but what did he really miss? Not you—not the person you were, not the agent you had become—but the way you had once adored him, the way you had practically worshipped the ground he walked on. He missed the attention, the validation, the way you used to look at him like he hung the stars.

You climbed into the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel tightly as you tried to push the thoughts away, but they clung to you like a second skin, refusing to let go. No, Harry didn’t miss you. He missed being adored, being the center of someone’s world. He missed having you at his feet, ready to hang on his every word, ready to praise him for every little thing he did. That’s what had bruised his ego—the realization that he no longer had that hold over you, that you had seen through the façade and realized that the man behind the title was just as flawed, just as capable of cruelty, as anyone else.

The drive to the safe house was a blur, the roads passing by in a haze as your thoughts continued to spiral. You replayed that night over and over in your mind, each word he’d said cutting deeper, each memory of his cold, dismissive gaze only fueling the fire of your anger and hurt. It was easier to be angry, to let the bitterness take root, than to confront the lingering feelings of affection that refused to die, no matter how hard you tried to smother them.

But those feelings—those ridiculous, stubborn feelings—were a weakness, and you knew it. They had blinded you, made you see Harry as something more than he was, someone worthy of your admiration, your love. And now, faced with the reality of who he truly was, you couldn’t help but feel disgusted with yourself for ever thinking he could be anything more than just another agent, another man who was too wrapped up in his own ego to see the damage he had done.

As you arrived at the safe house, you forced yourself to focus on the task at hand, unloading the supplies and carefully arranging the weaponry. The mechanical nature of the work helped, giving you something to concentrate on other than the storm raging inside your head. But even as you went through the motions, your mind kept drifting back to Harry—his apology, his attempt to smooth things over, to make you believe that he cared, that he missed you.

He didn’t miss you. He missed the adoration, the way you used to look at him with stars in your eyes, the way you used to hang on his every word. He missed being the center of your world, the one you looked up to, the one you cared for with that quiet, unspoken devotion. And now that you had pulled back, now that you had started to see him for who he really was, he was scrambling to regain that control, to pull you back into his orbit.

You snorted bitterly as you stacked the last of the weapons on the shelf, the sound harsh and ugly in the quiet of the safe house. If Harry thought he could just waltz back into your life, apologize, and have everything go back to the way it was, he was sorely mistaken. You weren’t that same girl anymore, the one who would have done anything to win his approval, who would have bent over backward just to see him smile.

You had changed. You had seen the truth, seen the way he looked at you that night, like you were nothing more than a silly little girl with a foolish crush, someone who wasn’t worth his time or attention. And now, it was too late to go back, too late to pretend that those words hadn’t cut you to the core, hadn’t shattered the image you had built up of him in your mind.

As you finished your work and locked up the safe house, you allowed yourself one last, bitter thought before pushing it all aside. Harry didn’t miss you—he missed what you represented, the way you made him feel like the center of your world. But you weren’t going to give him that power anymore. You weren’t going to let him make you feel small, insignificant, like you were nothing more than a distraction.

You were stronger than that. You were better than that. And as you drove away from the safe house, the sun setting on the horizon, you made a silent vow to yourself.

You would never let Harry Hart hurt you like that again.

The sun had set, casting long shadows across the manicured lawns of the Kingsman mansion, but Harry Hart, Agent Galahad, was still hunched over his desk in his dimly lit office. The stack of mission reports loomed before him, an endless sea of paperwork that seemed to grow with each passing minute. Normally, Harry would have tackled the task with his usual efficiency, his mind laser-focused on the details that others might overlook. But tonight, his thoughts were elsewhere, drifting back to you—Agent Gawain.

He sighed deeply, removing his Kingsman glasses and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. The frustration gnawed at him, an unfamiliar sense of helplessness that he couldn’t quite shake. Harry had always prided himself on his ability to compartmentalize, to keep his emotions in check, to maintain that calm, composed demeanor no matter the situation. But ever since that day in the safehouse, ever since he had lashed out at you in a moment of anger and hurt, something had shifted inside him.

You were everywhere in his thoughts now, an unbidden presence that haunted him no matter how hard he tried to focus on his work. It was infuriating—this inability to push you from his mind, to regain the control he had always wielded with such precision. He had never been this distracted, this… obsessed. So why now?

Maybe because she’s ignoring you now…

The voice in his head was a mocking whisper, one that made Harry grit his teeth in frustration. But there was truth in those words, and that truth stung more than he cared to admit. He had taken you for granted, dismissed your admiration as nothing more than a schoolgirl crush, something to be endured, even laughed at. He had always known how you felt, and he had always believed that you would be there, hanging on his every word, looking up to him with those wide, adoring eyes.

But now, those eyes were cold, distant, refusing to even meet his. You had withdrawn from him, retreated behind a wall of icy professionalism that left Harry feeling hollow, adrift in a sea of regret. And it was only now, with your absence so keenly felt, that he realized just how much he had come to rely on your warmth, your light.

He missed the sound of your laughter echoing through the halls of the mansion, the way you would banter with him, tease him with that sharp wit of yours that never failed to bring a smile to his lips. He missed the way you used to joke with Merlin, the way you would brighten any room you entered with your infectious energy, your kindness. He missed the way you looked at him, like he was the most important person in the world.

Harry let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh in the quiet of his office. You don’t know what you have until it’s gone. The phrase echoed in his mind, a cruel reminder of just how badly he had misjudged the situation, misjudged you. He had pushed you away, believing that your feelings were nothing more than a distraction, something he didn’t need or want. But now, with that distraction gone, he found himself adrift, unable to focus, unable to think of anything but you.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling up inside him. He wasn’t good with feelings—he never had been. His life had always been about control, about keeping his emotions in check, about doing what needed to be done without letting anything—or anyone—get in the way. But you… you had slipped through the cracks, wormed your way into his thoughts, his heart, without him even realizing it.

And now, he was paying the price.

Harry leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling as he tried to make sense of the turmoil inside him. What was it about you that had gotten under his skin, that had made it so impossible for him to move on? Was it the way you had always looked at him, with that mix of admiration and something more, something deeper? Or was it the way you had always been there, by his side, supporting him, believing in him, even when he didn’t believe in himself?

The memory of your smile, that bright, infectious grin that had once been a constant in his life, sent a pang of longing through him. He missed that smile, missed the way it lit up your face, the way it made everything seem just a little bit better, a little bit easier. But now, that smile was gone, replaced by a cold, distant mask that made Harry’s heart ache with regret.

He had hurt you—deeply, profoundly—and now he didn’t know how to make it right. He didn’t know how to reach you, how to break through the walls you had built around yourself. And the thought of losing you, of never being able to see that warmth in your eyes again, was almost more than he could bear.

Harry sighed again, a deep, weary sound that seemed to echo in the empty office. He wasn’t used to feeling this way—helpless, adrift, unable to find his footing. He had always been the one in control, the one who knew what needed to be done and did it without hesitation. But now, faced with the mess he had made of things between you, he didn’t know where to start, didn’t know how to fix what he had broken.

He closed his eyes, letting the memories wash over him—the way you used to joke with him, tease him, your laughter echoing in his ears, the way you would get flustered and nervous in his presence, your cheeks flushing a soft pink whenever he praised you. He had always found it endearing, the way you looked up to him, the way you admired him, even when he didn’t deserve it. And now, he realized just how much he had come to rely on that admiration, on the way you made him feel like he was worth something, like he mattered.

Maybe that’s what it is, he thought, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Maybe I just miss being the center of your world.

But even as the thought crossed his mind, Harry knew it wasn’t the whole truth. It wasn’t just the admiration he missed, wasn’t just the way you used to look at him. It was you—your kindness, your warmth, your laughter, the way you made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

And now, he had thrown it all away, all because he had been too proud, too blind to see what was right in front of him.

Harry’s gaze drifted back to the stack of mission reports on his desk, but the words on the pages seemed to blur together, meaningless in the face of the turmoil inside him. He had never been one to dwell on his mistakes, to let regret weigh him down, but this… this was different. This was something he couldn’t just push aside, couldn’t just ignore.

You were different.

He closed the file in front of him, unable to focus on the words any longer, and leaned back in his chair, his mind racing with thoughts of you. The way you had looked at him during that sparring session earlier today, the way you had pinned him to the mat, your eyes blazing with a mix of anger and something else—something that had sent a jolt of desire through him, even as it filled him with regret.

She’s stronger than you ever gave her credit for, the voice in his head whispered, and Harry couldn’t help but agree. He had underestimated you, dismissed you as a distraction, but now he realized just how wrong he had been. You were one of the best agents Kingsman had, a force to be reckoned with, and he had been a fool to think that your feelings for him were anything less than genuine.

But now, those feelings were gone, replaced by a cold, distant professionalism that made Harry’s heart ache with loss. He wanted to reach out, to pull you back into his orbit, to make you see that he wasn’t the man you thought he was, that he wasn’t the cold, unfeeling bastard he had pretended to be.

But how could he do that when he didn’t even know how to reach you? How could he break through the walls you had built around yourself, when he had been the one to push you away in the first place?

Harry let out a long, frustrated sigh, his hands rubbing at his temples as he tried to make sense of the mess he had made of things. He had always prided himself on his ability to remain calm, composed, in control, but now he felt anything but. The emotions swirling inside him were a confusing mix of anger, regret, and something else—something deeper, something he wasn’t ready to confront just yet.

I need to talk to her, Harry realized, the thought sending a jolt of urgency through him. I need to make her see that I’m sorry, that I—

But even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew it wouldn’t be that simple. You were angry—rightfully so—and Harry didn’t blame you. He had hurt you, dismissed your feelings, belittled the very thing that made you who you were. And now, he didn’t know how to fix it, didn’t know how to make things right.

He had never been good with feelings, had always kept them locked away, hidden beneath layers of control and professionalism. But now, faced with the possibility of losing you for good, he realized just how much those feelings had meant to him, just how much he had come to rely on your warmth, your kindness, your laughter.

The days passed slowly after your sparring session with Harry, the tension between the two of you thick enough to cut with a knife. You had thrown yourself into your work, avoiding Harry as much as possible, focusing on missions, reports, anything that kept your mind off him. But deep down, you knew it was only a matter of time before the two of you would be forced to confront each other again. And when the news finally came, it was like a punch to the gut.

You had been called to the briefing room for a new mission, and as you took your seat at the long, polished table, you couldn’t help but notice Harry sitting directly across from you. He looked composed, as always, his expression cool and unreadable, but you could feel his eyes on you, feel the weight of his gaze as he watched you settle into your chair. You did your best to ignore him, focusing instead on the file in front of you, flipping through the pages to avoid meeting his eyes.

Arthur—Chester—stood at the head of the table, his presence commanding as always, his sharp eyes scanning the room. Merlin was beside him, holding a tablet that displayed the details of the mission. The tension in the room was palpable, everyone on edge, knowing that this mission was crucial, and that any mistake could have serious consequences.

“As you all know,” Chester began, his voice as cold and sharp as ever, “we have received intelligence that Lord Carlisle is in possession of documents that could expose Kingsman’s operations. These documents must be retrieved at all costs. We’ve arranged for two of our agents to infiltrate Carlisle’s estate during an upcoming party. The two agents will pose as a couple, allowing them to move freely through the event without raising suspicion.”

You could feel your stomach drop as you listened to Chester’s words, a sinking feeling of dread settling in your chest. You didn’t need to hear the rest to know what was coming.

“Agent Gawain and Agent Galahad,” Chester continued, his eyes locking onto yours with a knowing smirk, “you two will be taking on this mission. You’ll pose as a married couple attending the party, giving you the perfect cover to search for the documents and retrieve them without drawing attention.”

Your heart sank. Of course, it had to be Harry. The one person you had been trying to avoid, the one person who had hurt you more than anyone else, and now you were expected to pretend to be his loving spouse, to play the role of a happy couple while searching for potentially deadly intel. It felt like some kind of cruel joke, and you couldn’t stop the rush of frustration and resentment that bubbled up inside you.

You raised your hand, your voice steady but tinged with a touch of nervousness. “Arthur, if I may, I believe Agent Lancelot would be a better choice for this mission. He and I have… better chemistry, and it would be more believable for us to pose as a couple.”

Chester’s eyebrows shot up, a look of surprise crossing his face. You had never objected to a mission before, especially not when it involved working with Harry. He clearly hadn’t expected you to speak up, and for a moment, you thought he might actually consider your request. But then his expression hardened, his lips curling into a mocking smile.

“Better chemistry, Gawain?” Chester’s voice dripped with condescension. “I wasn’t aware this mission was about your comfort level or personal preferences. Lancelot is already assigned to another operation, and frankly, I don’t care if you think you have better chemistry with him. You will work with Galahad, and you will get the job done. Is that clear?”

You swallowed hard, feeling a flush of embarrassment and frustration rise in your cheeks. Chester’s words stung, but you knew better than to argue further. You had already pushed your luck by speaking up at all. “Yes, Arthur,” you replied quietly, your gaze dropping back to the file in front of you.

“Good,” Chester said, his tone dismissive as he moved on with the briefing. “Merlin will provide you with the details of the mission, including your cover identities and the layout of Carlisle’s estate. I expect both of you to execute this mission flawlessly. Any slip-up could result in those documents falling into the wrong hands, and that is something we cannot afford.”

As Chester and Merlin continued to discuss the finer points of the mission, you kept your focus on the documents in front of you, trying to absorb the information and push aside the lingering resentment that gnawed at you. Harry remained silent, his eyes fixed on his own file, but you could feel the tension between you, a tension that neither of you seemed willing or able to break.

When the briefing finally concluded, you gathered your things and prepared to leave, eager to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the room. But just as you were about to step out, Chester called after you, his voice laced with a hint of smug amusement. “And Gawain, Galahad—make sure you practice your… chemistry before the mission. We wouldn’t want anyone to doubt the authenticity of your relationship, would we?”

You forced a tight smile, nodding curtly as you turned away, your fists clenched at your sides. Chester’s words were like salt in the wound, a reminder of just how difficult this mission was going to be. But you couldn’t let it show, couldn’t let anyone see just how much it affected you. You were a Kingsman, one of the best, and you would do your job, no matter how much it hurt.

As you stepped out of the briefing room, you felt Harry’s presence beside you, his tall, imposing figure a constant reminder of the task ahead. He hadn’t said a word during the briefing, and now, as the two of you walked down the corridor, the silence between you was heavy, oppressive.

You couldn’t help but steal a glance at him, your heart twisting at the sight of his familiar profile—the strong jaw, the slightly disheveled brown hair, the way his eyes were fixed straight ahead, as if he were determined to ignore you completely. It was a far cry from the man you had once known, the man who had always been there for you, who had once been your mentor, your friend… your everything.

But that man was gone, replaced by someone colder, more distant, someone who had hurt you in ways you never thought possible. And now, you were expected to pretend that everything was fine, to play the role of his loving wife, to lie to the world and to yourself.

As the two of you reached the entrance to the mansion, Harry finally broke the silence, his voice low and measured. “We should go over our cover story, make sure we’re both on the same page before the mission.”

You nodded, keeping your expression neutral. “Of course. We’ll need to practice our roles as well, make sure we’re convincing.”

Harry’s lips twitched, a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m sure we can manage that.”

The tension in the air between you was almost unbearable, the unspoken words, the unresolved emotions hanging like a dark cloud over your heads. But neither of you was willing to address it, to confront the pain and anger that still lingered between you. Not now, not when you had a mission to prepare for.

With a slight shake of your head, you turned to leave, intending to take a taxi to the tailor shop to choose a dress for the mission. But before you could take more than a few steps, Harry’s hand shot out, grabbing your arm and pulling you back with a firm grip.

"Hold on," he said, his voice low but commanding, laced with a tension that matched your own. "We need to talk about this."

You glanced down at his hand on your arm, your heart skipping a beat at the closeness. Despite everything, despite the anger and the hurt, the contact still sent a jolt of something electric through you. But you quickly shoved that feeling aside, meeting his gaze with a hard look of your own.

"What’s there to talk about, Galahad?" you replied, your tone cold, deliberately using his title to keep the distance between you. "We have a mission to complete, and I intend to do my job. That’s all there is to it."

Harry’s eyes narrowed, his grip on your arm tightening just slightly. "That’s exactly my point, Gawain. We can’t let our personal conflicts interfere with the mission. This is too important for either of us to be distracted."

You couldn’t help the small scoff that escaped your lips, a sound filled with bitterness. "Don’t worry, Galahad. I’m well aware of the stakes. I’ll be careful on the mission. Wouldn’t want to have to play the knight in shining armor and save your miserable ass again."

Harry’s eyes flashed with something—anger, hurt, you couldn’t quite tell—but he loosened his grip, letting your arm go as he realized what you were doing. You were throwing his own words back in his face, the very words he had used to cut you down, to mock your feelings. And the realization seemed to hit him hard.

"You’re acting like a child," Harry said, his voice tight, but there was a note of something deeper in it, something that made your heart twist with guilt. "You said that was in the past, but it’s clear from the way you’re acting that it isn’t. Not for you."

You opened your mouth to snap back, to defend yourself, but the truth in his words stopped you short. He was right. You were still holding on to the anger, the hurt, and it was clouding your judgment, making it impossible for you to act professionally. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you tried to put your emotions back in place, to regain control of yourself.

When you opened your eyes again, your gaze met Harry’s, and this time, there was no anger, no bitterness—just a weary resignation. "You’re right," you admitted quietly, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It won’t happen again."

Harry’s expression softened slightly, and for a moment, you could see the man you had once admired so much, the man who had been your mentor, your friend. "We’re a team, Gawain," he said, his voice gentler now. "We need to be able to rely on each other, especially on a mission like this."

You nodded, a small, humorless smile tugging at your lips. "I know. I’ll be more professional in the future."

There was a beat of silence between you, heavy with the unspoken words, the unresolved feelings that still lingered just beneath the surface. But you knew better than to dwell on it now. You had a job to do, and you couldn’t afford to let your emotions get in the way.

Harry seemed to sense your resolve, and he gave a small nod of approval, his eyes lingering on yours for just a moment longer before he turned away. "We’ll meet at the tailor shop in an hour," he said, his tone returning to the businesslike professionalism that had always defined him. "We need to make sure our cover is airtight."

As he walked away, you couldn’t help but watch him go, your mind still spinning with everything that had happened, everything that had been said. But you knew that you couldn’t afford to let it distract you, not now, not when the mission was so important.

With a final, deep breath, you pushed the thoughts aside and made your way to the taxi waiting outside. You had a job to do, and no matter how difficult it was, no matter how much it hurt, you were determined to see it through.

An hour later, you arrived at the tailor shop, the familiar scent of fine fabrics and polished wood greeting you as you stepped inside. The shop was quiet, the only sound being the soft rustle of fabric as one of the tailors worked on a new suit in the back.

Harry was already there, standing near a row of evening gowns, his expression unreadable as he turned to face you. "You’re on time," he remarked, his tone neutral, though there was a hint of something lighter in his eyes.

"Of course," you replied smoothly, trying to keep your voice light, though the tension between you was still palpable. "I’m nothing if not punctual."

Harry raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Well, let’s not waste any more time. We need to find the perfect dress for you. Something that says you’re my beautiful wife, but also hides the fact that you could take down half the party if necessary."

You couldn’t help the small smirk that crossed your lips at his words, the familiar banter between you bringing a strange sense of comfort, even if it was tinged with the unresolved tension that still lingered between you. "I think I can manage that."

As the two of you began to sift through the selection of dresses, the atmosphere in the shop gradually shifted, the tension easing as you focused on the task at hand. For a moment, it almost felt like old times—before the mission that had shattered your trust in him, before the harsh words that had driven a wedge between you.

But even as you tried to lose yourself in the selection of gowns, you couldn’t ignore the way Harry’s eyes kept drifting back to you, the way he seemed to be watching you with an intensity that made your heart race. It was as if he was searching for something in your expression, something that he wasn’t quite sure how to find.

Finally, after trying on several dresses, you stepped out of the dressing room in a sleek, black gown that hugged your curves in all the right places, the neckline plunging just enough to be daring without crossing the line into indecency. The fabric was soft and luxurious, the perfect balance of elegance and danger.

Harry’s eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of you, his gaze lingering a little too long on the curve of your waist, the way the dress clung to your figure. "That’s… perfect," he said, his voice a little rougher than usual, and you could see the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

You arched an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you took a step closer to him, the familiar spark of mischief lighting up your eyes. "Careful, Galahad. You’re staring."

Harry blinked, clearly caught off guard by your playful tone, but he quickly recovered, a smirk tugging at his lips as he met your gaze. "Can you blame me? It’s not every day I see my… wife looking this stunning."

The way he said the word "wife," the way it rolled off his tongue with a hint of something darker, sent a shiver down your spine. But you refused to let it show, instead, you leaned in a little closer, your voice dropping to a low, sultry murmur as you whispered, "You’d better be able to keep your eyes on the mission, Galahad. Wouldn’t want you getting distracted by your own… wife."

Harry’s eyes darkened, the smirk on his lips growing as he caught onto your game. "Oh, don’t worry, Gawain. I’m very good at multitasking. I think I can manage to keep an eye on you and the mission."

The tension between you crackled like electricity, the air thick with the unspoken emotions that neither of you was willing to fully acknowledge. But instead of pulling back, instead of retreating to the safety of professionalism, you found yourself stepping even closer, your fingers brushing lightly against the lapel of his suit jacket as you looked up at him through your lashes.

"Just remember," you whispered, your voice a seductive purr, "if you get yourself into trouble, I might just let you fend for yourself this time. I’m not here to save your ass, Galahad."

Harry’s breath hitched, the teasing light in his eyes replaced by something darker, something that made your pulse quicken. But instead of backing down, he leaned in even closer, his lips almost brushing your ear as he whispered, "Is that so? I think you enjoy saving me a little too much, Gawain. But don’t worry—I can take care of myself. Just make sure you can keep up."

The proximity, the heat of his breath against your skin, sent a thrill through you that you hadn’t felt in a long time. But you refused to let him see how much he affected you, refused to let him have the upper hand. Instead, you pulled back slightly, your eyes locking onto his as you flashed him a mischievous grin.

"Oh, I can keep up, Galahad," you replied, your voice dripping with confidence. "But can you?"

For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension between you crackling like a live wire, the unspoken challenge hanging in the air. But before either of you could push it any further, the sound of the tailor clearing his throat broke the spell, reminding you both of where you were and what you were supposed to be doing.

Harry stepped back, his expression quickly returning to the calm, composed demeanor that had always defined him. But there was still a glint in his eyes, a spark of something that told you this game was far from over.

"That dress will do," he said, his voice smooth and businesslike, though there was an edge of something darker lurking beneath the surface. "We’ll need to work on our cover story next. Make sure we’re convincing as a couple."

You nodded, taking one last look at yourself in the mirror before stepping back into the dressing room to change. But as you did, you couldn’t help the small smile that played on your lips, the thrill of the banter with Harry still lingering in your mind.

This mission was going to be difficult, there was no doubt about that. But if nothing else, it was clear that you and Harry still had that spark, that connection that had always made you a formidable team. And as you stepped out of the dressing room, dressed once again in your usual attire, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of anticipation, a thrill of excitement that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

The game was on, and this time, you were determined to win.

You clung to Harry’s arm as the two of you made your way through the grand entrance of Lord Carlisle’s estate, the soft click of your heels on the marble floors blending with the murmurs of conversation and the clinking of champagne glasses. The opulence of the mansion was almost overwhelming—gilded chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, casting a warm, golden light over the assembled guests, while elegant tapestries and priceless works of art adorned the walls. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfumes, mingling with the faint aroma of gourmet hors d'oeuvres being passed around by liveried waitstaff.

Harry, ever the picture of a perfect gentleman, led you with a firm yet gentle grip, his tall frame exuding confidence and charm. You played your part flawlessly, smiling up at him with just the right amount of adoration, as if he were the center of your world. For tonight, you were no longer Agent Gawain of Kingsman, but Mrs. Darcy, the devoted wife of the dashing Mr. Darcy—Harry’s cover identity for the evening. And while the mission demanded that you remain focused, you couldn’t ignore the flutter in your chest every time Harry glanced down at you, his eyes dark and intense beneath the guise of polite affection.

As you moved through the crowd, your gaze subtly scanned the room, taking in the various exits, the positions of the security personnel, and the guests themselves. You were searching for any sign of the documents that had brought you here, the papers that Lord Carlisle had obtained—papers that could expose Kingsman to the world.

Your fingers brushed against the earrings you wore, a seemingly innocuous accessory that housed the sophisticated technology that allowed you to communicate with Merlin. While Harry had the advantage of the Kingsman glasses, which provided him with both visual and auditory input, you had only the small earpiece hidden within your earrings, allowing you to hear Merlin’s instructions and updates.

“Can you hear me, Gawain?” Merlin’s voice crackled in your ear, the familiar tone instantly grounding you amidst the overwhelming luxury of the party.

“Loud and clear, Merlin,” you murmured softly, keeping your voice low as you leaned in closer to Harry, as if whispering something intimate in his ear. To any onlookers, it would appear as though you were simply sharing a private moment with your husband, but in reality, you were receiving vital instructions.

“Good. I’m patching into the mansion’s security system now,” Merlin continued, his voice steady and reassuring. “Harry, you should be able to see the layout on your glasses. Gawain, I’ll guide you through what I can, but you’ll need to stay close to Galahad.”

You nodded slightly, your expression calm as you responded, “Understood, Merlin.”

Harry’s hand tightened ever so slightly on your arm, a silent reassurance that he was with you, that he had your back. Despite everything that had happened between you, despite the unresolved tension and the hurt that still lingered, you couldn’t deny the comfort that came from knowing Harry was by your side. He might have wounded you with his words, but in the field, he was still the partner you could trust with your life.

As the two of you continued to mingle, playing your roles as the devoted Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, you felt the weight of someone’s gaze on you. Glancing up, you found Lord Carlisle himself making his way towards you, his eyes lingering on you in a way that made your skin crawl. He was an older man, his graying hair slicked back, his sharp features softened only slightly by the practiced smile he wore as he greeted his guests. But there was something predatory in his gaze, something that made your instincts scream for caution.

“Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy!” Carlisle’s voice boomed as he approached, his smile widening as his eyes roved over you with a barely concealed appreciation. “It’s a pleasure to have you both here tonight.”

Harry’s grip on your arm tightened just a fraction, a subtle signal that he was aware of the shift in Carlisle’s attention. “The pleasure is all ours, Lord Carlisle,” Harry replied smoothly, his voice warm and polite, though you could sense the underlying tension. “Your home is absolutely stunning.”

Carlisle’s gaze finally shifted to Harry, though it was clear that his interest lay elsewhere. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy. I do try to maintain the estate to the highest standards. But I must say, your wife is the true gem of the evening.” He turned his attention back to you, his smile widening. “Mrs. Darcy, you look absolutely ravishing tonight.”

You forced a demure smile, feeling Harry’s arm tense beneath your hand. “You’re too kind, Lord Carlisle,” you replied, your voice smooth and charming, though the compliment made your skin prickle with unease. “Your home is simply breathtaking.”

Carlisle chuckled, clearly pleased with your response, and before you could react, he reached out to take your free hand, bringing it to his lips for a brief, overly familiar kiss. The gesture was meant to be chivalrous, but the way his eyes locked onto yours as his lips brushed your skin sent a shiver of discomfort down your spine.

Harry’s jaw tightened visibly, his posture stiffening as he watched the exchange. “We’re honored to be here, Lord Carlisle,” he said, his voice carefully controlled, though you could hear the edge in it. “My wife and I were just admiring your collection of art. Perhaps you could give us a tour?”

Carlisle’s eyes flickered with interest, though you could tell that his attention was still firmly fixed on you. “Of course, Mr. Darcy. But first, I was hoping to steal your lovely wife for a moment. There’s a piece I think she would particularly enjoy.”

You felt Harry’s grip tighten almost imperceptibly, a silent plea for you to refuse, but you knew better. This was your chance to get closer to Carlisle, to possibly discover where he was hiding the documents. “I would love that, Lord Carlisle,” you said, offering a bright smile as you reluctantly released Harry’s arm.

Carlisle’s smile broadened, clearly pleased with your response, and he offered his arm to you in a gallant gesture. “Right this way, Mrs. Darcy.”

You hesitated for the briefest moment, your eyes flicking to Harry, who was doing his best to maintain his composure. His expression was inscrutable, but you could see the tightness in his jaw, the way his eyes darkened with a mixture of jealousy and concern. It was a rare sight to see Harry so visibly affected, and a part of you couldn’t help but feel a small thrill at the idea that he might actually care.

But there was no time to dwell on that now. You took Carlisle’s arm with a practiced smile, allowing him to lead you away from the main party and into a more secluded area of the mansion. As you walked, you kept your movements fluid and relaxed, playing the role of the adoring wife, while internally, you remained on high alert, your mind racing with possibilities.

“Stay sharp, Gawain,” Merlin’s voice crackled in your ear, a reminder of the gravity of the situation. “Harry, I’ll keep you updated on their location. Gawain, I’m patching into the security cameras now, but you need to stay close to Carlisle. We need to know where those documents are.”

You nodded slightly, acknowledging Merlin’s instructions while keeping your expression neutral. Carlisle led you into a small, dimly lit room that appeared to be a private gallery, filled with various pieces of art, sculptures, and artifacts. The air was heavy with the scent of aged wood and polished stone, and the soft lighting cast long shadows across the room.

Carlisle released your arm, his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that made you uneasy. “This piece,” he said, gesturing to a large painting on the far wall, “is one of my most prized possessions. A masterpiece from the Baroque period, depicting the myth of Narcissus. I thought you might appreciate its beauty.”

You took a step closer to the painting, feigning interest as you studied it. In truth, your mind was focused on the task at hand—scanning the room for any hidden compartments, any clues that might indicate where Carlisle was keeping the documents. “It’s exquisite,” you said, your voice soft and admiring, though your thoughts were elsewhere.

Carlisle moved closer, his presence unnervingly close as he leaned in to speak. “I must say, Mrs. Darcy, you are far more captivating than any work of art in this gallery.”

You forced a polite laugh, taking a small step back to create some distance between you. “You’re too kind, Lord Carlisle. But I’m afraid my husband might not appreciate such comparisons."

Carlisle chuckled, clearly not deterred by your attempt to deflect his advances. “Ah, but your husband is a fortunate man, indeed. A woman as beautiful and charming as you… it’s a rare combination.”

As he spoke, you felt the weight of his gaze on you, and you knew that this was your opportunity to gather more information. If Carlisle was interested in you, perhaps you could use that to your advantage. You needed to gain his trust, to get him to reveal more about the documents—and if that meant playing into his flirtation, then so be it.

“Thank you, Lord Carlisle,” you said, allowing your smile to soften, your voice taking on a more flirtatious tone. “You’re quite the charmer yourself. I can see why your guests are so enamored with you.”

Carlisle’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, clearly pleased with your response. “And I can see why Mr. Darcy is so protective of you. A woman of your beauty and wit is a treasure indeed.”

You feigned a small sigh, letting your shoulders slump ever so slightly as you gazed at the painting. The calculated vulnerability was a part of your plan, a tactic to draw Carlisle in, to make him believe you were an unfulfilled woman seeking comfort. You knew how to play this game, how to manipulate the situation to your advantage, and tonight, you needed Carlisle to believe that you were someone he could exploit.

“I just wish Mark would appreciate that about me,” you murmured softly, your voice laced with a subtle sadness. You made sure your words were loud enough for Carlisle to hear, your tone hinting at the loneliness you were trying to convey.

Carlisle’s gaze flickered with interest, his predatory instincts kicking in as he stepped closer to you, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. “My dear Mrs. Darcy,” he said, his voice low and soothing, “it’s a shame that a woman as beautiful and captivating as you feels unappreciated. Your husband is a fool if he doesn’t see what a treasure he has.”

You turned to face Carlisle, allowing a small, sad smile to tug at the corners of your lips. You had him right where you wanted him. “You’re very kind, Lord Carlisle,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his with a hint of vulnerability. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m invisible to him. He’s so busy with his work, with all these important things, that I wonder if he even notices me anymore.”

Carlisle’s hand slid up your arm, his touch lingering as he looked into your eyes with a feigned sympathy. “A woman like you should never feel invisible,” he said, his voice dripping with false sincerity. “If you were mine, I would make sure you felt cherished every single day.”

You felt a twinge of disgust at his words, but you kept your expression soft, playing along as you leaned in slightly, your breath brushing against his cheek. “That’s sweet of you to say, Lord Carlisle,” you whispered, your voice carrying a hint of seduction. “I just wish Mark felt the same way.”

Carlisle’s hand moved to your waist, his grip tightening slightly as he pulled you closer, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “Perhaps,” he murmured, his voice low and suggestive, “I could show you what it feels like to be truly appreciated. Mark doesn’t need to know. It could be our little secret.”

Your stomach churned with revulsion, but you forced yourself to remain in character, to play the part that was required of you. You let out a small, breathy laugh, your hand resting lightly on his chest as you gazed up at him through your lashes. “Our little secret?” you repeated, your voice teasing, as if you were considering his offer. “And how would you show me that, Lord Carlisle?”

Carlisle’s eyes darkened with desire, his hand sliding down your back, pulling you even closer to him. “I have a private bedroom upstairs,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “We could go there now, and I could show you exactly how much I appreciate you.”

Merlin’s voice crackled in your ear, the urgency in his tone a sharp contrast to the sensual atmosphere Carlisle was trying to create. “Good, Gawain,” Merlin said, his voice low but steady. “Keep him talking, but try to get him to take you to that bedroom. The documents are likely hidden somewhere private, and this could be our best chance to find them.”

You nodded almost imperceptibly, letting your hand trail up Carlisle’s chest to the nape of his neck, your fingers playing with the hair there as you leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear. “That sounds… intriguing,” you whispered, your voice sultry and inviting. “But we’ll need to be discreet. I wouldn’t want Mark to find out. It would ruin everything.”

Carlisle grinned, clearly pleased with your response, and you could see the gleam of triumph in his eyes. “Don’t worry, my dear,” he said, his voice husky with anticipation. “No one will know. Follow me.”

He took your hand, leading you towards a hidden staircase at the back of the gallery. Your heart pounded in your chest, not with excitement, but with the knowledge that you were getting closer to the documents. Carlisle might think he had the upper hand, but you were the one in control here.

As you ascended the stairs, you could feel the tension building within you, the weight of the mission pressing down on you. You had to keep your focus, had to remember that this was just another assignment, another role to play. But as you reached the top of the stairs and Carlisle led you into a lavishly decorated bedroom, you couldn’t ignore the unease that settled in your stomach.

The room was dimly lit, the heavy curtains drawn to create an intimate, almost suffocating atmosphere. The bed was large and ornate, draped in rich fabrics that matched the opulence of the rest of the mansion. Carlisle closed the door behind you, his eyes never leaving you as he stepped closer, his intentions clear.

You could hear Merlin’s voice in your ear, a steady reminder of the mission at hand. “Stay focused, Gawain. Search the room for anything that might be out of place. We’re running out of time.”

You nodded slightly, keeping your expression soft and inviting as you allowed Carlisle to pull you closer, his hands roaming over your back. “This is a beautiful room, Lord Carlisle,” you murmured, your voice low and seductive. “It’s almost too perfect. Is this where you bring all your conquests?”

Carlisle chuckled, his hands sliding down to your hips as he pulled you against him. “Only the special ones,” he replied, his voice thick with desire. “And you, my dear, are very special.”

You forced a smile, leaning in closer as you let your fingers trail down his chest. “I’m flattered,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his neck. “But I’m curious… what makes me so special?”

Carlisle’s grip tightened on you, his breath hot against your skin as he murmured, “You’re a rare gem, Mrs. Darcy. A woman of beauty, intelligence, and charm. And I can’t resist a woman who knows what she wants.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the weight of the mission pressing down on you as you tried to maintain your composure. You needed to keep him talking, needed to find a way to search the room without arousing his suspicion.

“Tell me, Lord Carlisle,” you whispered, your voice soft and alluring, “what else do you keep in this room? Surely, a man of your… stature has more than just a bed to offer.”

Carlisle’s eyes gleamed with a mixture of desire and arrogance, clearly pleased with your question. “Oh, I have many treasures hidden away in this room,” he replied, his voice low and conspiratorial. “But those are for my eyes only.”

You smiled coyly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his neck, your lips brushing against his skin. “You can trust me, Lord Carlisle,” you murmured, your voice sweet and persuasive. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Carlisle’s grip on you tightened, his hands sliding up to cup your face as he looked into your eyes, his expression filled with lust. “You’re a dangerous woman, Mrs. Darcy,” he said, his voice a low growl. “But I like that.”

You could hear Merlin’s voice in your ear, urging you to stay focused, to search the room for any signs of the documents. But Carlisle was close now, too close, his hands wandering over your body with a possessiveness that made your skin crawl.

As Carlisle's hands roamed your body, you felt a familiar sense of detachment wash over you. You had been in this situation before—seduction was a tool, a means to an end, and tonight, that end was retrieving those documents. You knew the routine, knew how to play the part of the willing, desirous woman. Carlisle wasn't unattractive, and he certainly wasn't the worst target you'd ever had to seduce, but that didn't make the task any easier. It was a job, nothing more. Yet, as you let yourself fall back onto the luxurious bed, the silky fabric cool against your skin, there was a nagging thought in the back of your mind—a reminder of the tension between you and Harry, of the hurt that still lingered.

Carlisle leaned over you, his breath hot against your neck as his hands roamed your body, his touch both possessive and eager. "You’re even more beautiful up close," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "I can’t wait to taste every inch of you."

You let out a soft, calculated moan, your body arching slightly under his touch, playing the role you knew you had to. "Then don’t keep me waiting," you whispered back, your voice dripping with seduction, even as your mind remained focused on the mission. You needed to keep him engaged, keep him distracted long enough for you to find out where those documents were hidden.

But then, through the small earpiece concealed within your earrings, you heard a sound that made your blood run cold. It was a deep, familiar growl of frustration, followed by the unmistakable clink of a whiskey glass being set down with a little too much force. Harry. He could hear everything through his Kingsman glasses, every moan, every sigh, every word. And he wasn’t taking it well.

You knew Harry had always been overprotective of you—he was your mentor, after all—but this was different. The tension between the two of you had been simmering for weeks, ever since that night in the safehouse, and now it was boiling over. You could feel his anger, his jealousy, radiating through the silence, even though he wasn’t in the room.

"God, you’re driving me crazy," Carlisle breathed, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples through the fabric of your dress. "I can’t wait to taste your sweet pussy."

You felt a surge of revulsion, but you forced yourself to stay in character, to keep up the facade. "Then what are you waiting for?" you purred, your voice a sultry whisper, even as your mind raced, trying to figure out how to get Carlisle to reveal the location of the documents.

Carlisle smiled and pulled the top of your dress down, taking a breast in his mouth. You moaned, grabbing the back of his neck, not having to fake your moans this time. God, he was good.

His touch sent shivers down your spine, and as much as you hated to admit it, Carlisle knew what he was doing. You could feel the heat pooling in your core, your body reacting despite your best efforts to remain detached. But you couldn’t afford to get lost in the moment, not when the mission was still at stake. You needed to stay focused, needed to find those documents, no matter how good Carlisle’s mouth felt on your skin.

But even as you tried to keep your mind on the mission, you couldn’t shake the nagging thought of Harry. He was still out there, somewhere in the mansion, listening to every sound, every moan you made. The idea of him hearing you like this, knowing that another man was touching you, made your heart race in a way that had nothing to do with Carlisle’s skilled hands.

Meanwhile, Harry was at the party bar, drinking whiskey and getting impatient. He could hear your moans and sighs through the Kingsman glasses, and he didn’t like it. As always, the idea of another man with his hands wandering around your body made his blood boil.

At first, Harry had told himself that his feelings were purely professional—that he was just a concerned mentor, worried about his protégé. But tonight, something was different. The tension between the two of you had been building for weeks, ever since that night in the safehouse, and now, hearing you moan for another man, it was like a knife twisting in his gut. The jealousy was overwhelming, consuming him in a way that he hadn’t anticipated.

“Bloody hell,” Harry muttered under his breath, downing the last of his whiskey in one gulp. He couldn’t stand it anymore—he couldn’t just sit here and listen to you like this, not when every fiber of his being was screaming at him to do something, anything, to make it stop.

Ignoring Merlin’s voice crackling in his ear, warning him to stay put, Harry slammed the glass down on the bar and pushed himself to his feet. His movements were deliberate, controlled, but beneath the surface, he was a storm of barely contained fury.

“Harry, you need to stay where you are,” Merlin’s voice came through the glasses, his tone firm and laced with concern. “This is her mission, not yours. She knows what she’s doing.”

But Harry wasn’t listening. The jealousy, the anger, the hurt—it was all too much. He couldn’t just stand by and let this happen. He needed to see you, needed to make sure you were okay, needed to—

“Harry!” Merlin’s voice was sharper now, more urgent. “Damn it, man, get a hold of yourself! This isn’t just about you. You’re going to blow the mission if you don’t pull yourself together.”

But Harry’s mind was made up. He was already making his way through the mansion, moving with the stealth and precision that had made him one of Kingsman’s best agents. He knew he was being reckless, knew that he was letting his emotions get the better of him, but he couldn’t help it. The thought of you, alone with Carlisle, vulnerable, was more than he could bear.

Merlin sighed heavily on the other end of the line, his frustration palpable. “Bloody jealousy,” he muttered, clearly exasperated with Harry’s behavior. “This is going to be a disaster.”

As Harry moved through the mansion, ignoring the curious glances from other guests, his mind was racing. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he found you—he just knew that he had to get to you, had to make sure you were okay. The rational part of his mind, the part that knew he was acting irrationally, was drowned out by the overwhelming need to see you, to be with you.

Back in the bedroom, Carlisle’s hands were everywhere, his mouth leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses down your chest. You were struggling to keep up the facade, to maintain the act, even as your mind kept drifting to Harry.

You could feel Carlisle’s hands slipping lower, his intentions clear, but your thoughts were a jumbled mess of conflicting emotions. Part of you wanted to focus on the mission, to find the documents and get out of there as quickly as possible. But another part of you—a part that you were desperately trying to ignore—couldn’t stop thinking about Harry, about how he was hearing all of this, about how he was reacting.

“Harry,” Merlin’s voice came through the glasses again, more insistent this time. “You need to stop. You’re going to compromise the mission. If you don’t pull back now, everything we’ve worked for will be for nothing.”

But Harry wasn’t stopping. He was already too far gone, too consumed by the jealousy and the anger to think clearly. He was acting on pure instinct now, driven by a need that he didn’t fully understand.

As he neared the hidden staircase that led to the private rooms, Harry’s heart was pounding in his chest. He didn’t know what he was going to find when he got there, didn’t know what he was going to do—but he knew that he couldn’t stay away. Not anymore.

In the bedroom, Carlisle was getting more aggressive, his hands wandering lower, his breath coming in short, hot bursts against your skin. You could feel the tension building, the pressure to act, to do something, but your mind was still racing, still trying to process everything that was happening.

And then, just as Carlisle’s hand slid down to your thigh, the door to the bedroom burst open, slamming against the wall with a loud crash. You barely had time to react before Harry was there, his eyes blazing with fury, his chest heaving as he stood in the doorway, his presence overwhelming.

Carlisle jumped back, his eyes wide with shock and fear as he stared at Harry, clearly taken aback by the sudden intrusion. “What the hell—”

But Harry didn’t give him a chance to finish. In one swift, fluid motion, he crossed the room and grabbed Carlisle by the collar, yanking him away from you with a force that sent the older man stumbling backward.

“Touch her again, and I’ll kill you,” Harry hissed, his voice dripping with venom as he shoved Carlisle away, his eyes never leaving the man’s terrified face.

Carlisle’s stunned expression quickly morphed into one of indignation as he attempted to regain his composure. Straightening his collar, he looked at Harry with a forced smile, trying to mask his unease with arrogance.

“Mr. Darcy,” Carlisle began, his voice laced with false civility. “I must apologize if I overstepped my—”

But Harry wasn’t in the mood for apologies, false or otherwise. Without a word, he reached for his wristwatch, pressing a hidden button that caused a small dart to shoot out, striking Carlisle squarely in the neck. The older man’s eyes widened in shock before he slumped to the floor, unconscious.

You sat up in bed, pulling your dress back into place as you glared at Harry, your irritation bubbling over. “What the hell, Harry?!” you snapped, using his real name in your anger, abandoning the charade entirely. “Why did you storm in here like that?”

Harry’s gaze was dark, his jaw clenched as he looked at you with a mix of fury and something else—something raw and intense that made your breath catch. “Why?” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous as he took a step closer to you. “Because I wasn’t about to stand by and let that pompous old bastard lay his hands on you.”

You huffed in frustration, sliding off the bed to check Carlisle’s pulse, making sure he was merely unconscious and not harmed. Harry’s presence loomed over you, his anger radiating like heat. “Don’t touch him,” Harry ordered, his voice tight with barely restrained emotion.

Ignoring him, you struggled to lift Carlisle’s dead weight, intending to put him back on the bed. “Help me with this, Harry,” you demanded, your tone brooking no argument despite your rising irritation. “We need to make this look like he just passed out from too much wine.”

Harry’s scowl deepened, but he moved to your side, grumbling under his breath as he grabbed Carlisle’s arms and helped you lift him onto the bed. His touch was rougher than necessary, his frustration evident in every tense muscle. As you adjusted Carlisle’s position to make it seem like he was simply resting, Harry stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes burning into you.

“You shouldn’t have come in here like that,” you said, your voice quieter now but no less firm. “I had it under control.”

“Under control?” Harry’s voice dripped with sarcasm as he glared at you, his frustration boiling over. “Would you rather I’d let him fuck you, then? Would that have been better?”

Your mouth opened to retort, a sharp comeback on the tip of your tongue, but before you could say anything, Merlin’s voice cut through the tension like a knife.

“Both of you, shut up,” Merlin snapped through your earpiece, his tone filled with exasperation. “I don’t care if you two want to bicker like an old married couple, but do it later. Right now, you need to find those damn documents before someone comes looking for Carlisle.”

Harry shot you one last glare before turning away, his hands clenching into fists as he tried to regain his composure. You took a deep breath, pushing aside the lingering anger and focusing on the task at hand. Merlin was right—there was no time for this. You had a mission to complete.

“We need to search the room,” you said, your voice steady once more as you began scanning the area for anything that might hide the documents. “Check the desk, the drawers—anywhere that looks like it could be hiding something important.”

Harry nodded curtly, his usual professionalism slipping back into place as he joined you in the search. The tension between you still simmered just below the surface, but you both knew better than to let it distract you. The mission came first—no matter what else was going on.

As you rifled through the drawers of a nearby dresser, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at Harry. His movements were precise, methodical, but there was a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there before. Despite everything, despite the anger and the hurt, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his outburst than just professional concern.

But now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. You had to focus, had to find those documents and get out of there before anyone noticed Carlisle’s absence.

As you continued your search, Merlin’s voice crackled in your ear again. “Gawain, there’s a hidden compartment in the desk. Try the top drawer—it should have a false bottom.”

You immediately moved to the desk, pulling open the top drawer and feeling around for the catch that would reveal the hidden compartment. Your fingers found the latch, and with a click, the false bottom slid open, revealing a stack of papers neatly tucked away.

“Got it,” you murmured, pulling out the documents and quickly scanning them. They were exactly what you’d been looking for—evidence that could expose Kingsman if they fell into the wrong hands.

You turned to Harry, holding up the papers with a triumphant smile. “Let’s get out of here.”

Harry’s eyes locked onto yours, the intensity in his gaze making your heart skip a beat. But instead of responding, he simply nodded, his expression unreadable as he moved to the door, pausing to listen for any signs of movement outside.

The tension between you was still there, but it was tempered by the urgency of the situation. There would be time to deal with whatever was going on between you later—once the mission was over and you were safely back at the Kingsman mansion.

For now, you had to focus. You had to get out of this mansion and complete the mission. Everything else would have to wait.

The car sped away from Lord Carlisle’s mansion, the engine purring softly as Merlin navigated the winding roads with practiced ease. You sat in the back seat with Harry, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife. The adrenaline from the mission was still coursing through your veins, but the relief you’d expected to feel once you were safely out of the mansion hadn’t come. Instead, a different kind of tension had settled over you, one that had nothing to do with the mission and everything to do with the man sitting beside you.

Merlin’s voice crackled, breaking the silence. “Good work, both of you. We got what we came for, and Carlisle will be out cold for hours. He won’t even remember what hit him.”

You handed the documents to Merlin, who accepted them with a nod, tucking them into the glove compartment. “We’ll analyze these once we get back,” he added, his tone brisk and efficient. “But for now, let’s just get you two back to base.”

You leaned back in your seat, letting out a sigh of relief, but your eyes drifted to Harry. He was staring out the window, his jaw clenched, his posture stiff and unyielding. The anger that had flared up during the mission was still simmering just beneath the surface, and it was clear he hadn’t let it go.

“What’s wrong with you?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended. The adrenaline was making you edgy, and the tension between you and Harry wasn’t helping. “You almost ruined the mission tonight. What the hell were you thinking?”

Harry’s head snapped around, his eyes flashing with irritation as he glared at you. “What was I thinking?” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “I was thinking that I wasn’t about to stand by and let that bastard lay his hands on you, that’s what I was thinking."

“You were thinking with your emotions, not your head,” you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest. “We had a plan, Harry. I was in control of the situation. You didn’t need to come charging in like some kind of knight in shining armor.”

Harry’s expression darkened, his hands clenching into fists on his lap. “And what was I supposed to do, Gawain? Just sit there and listen while he—”

“While he what?” you interrupted, your voice rising with frustration. “While he tried to seduce me? It was part of the mission, Harry. I knew what I was doing.”

“Did you?” Harry snapped, his eyes narrowing as he leaned in closer, his voice laced with anger. “Because from where I was standing, it looked like you were about to let him fuck you just to get those damn documents.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, a mix of anger and hurt swirling in your chest. “That’s not fair, Harry,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion. “You know I would never—”

“Enough,” Merlin’s voice cut through the tension like a knife, his tone firm and exasperated. He glanced at the two of you in the rearview mirror, his eyes narrowing as he took in the heated exchange. “I’ve had about enough of this. You two need to sort yourselves out, because I’m not putting up with this obvious sexual tension any longer.”

You blinked, taken aback by Merlin’s bluntness. “What?” you asked, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “That’s not—there’s no—”

“Oh, please,” Merlin scoffed, rolling his eyes as he glanced back at you and Harry. “Don’t even try to deny it. Anyone with eyes can see what’s going on between you two. And frankly, it’s about time you both did something about it.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Merlin cut you off with a wave of his hand. “Save it, Gawain. I’m tired of Harry’s tantrums and whining about missing you, and I’m tired of watching you both dance around each other like lovesick teenagers.”

You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, your heart pounding in your chest as Merlin’s words sank in. “I—I don’t—”

“Don’t what?” Merlin shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Don’t like him? Don’t think about him all the damn time? Because if that’s what you’re trying to say, then you’re either lying to me or lying to yourself.”

You glanced at Harry, who was staring at you with an intensity that made your breath catch. The anger in his eyes had faded, replaced by something deeper, something raw and vulnerable that made your heart ache. He didn’t say anything, but the look on his face said it all—he was waiting for you to say something, to admit to the feelings that you had tried so hard to ignore.

“I…” you began, your voice faltering as you struggled to find the right words. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Merlin.”

“Bullshit,” Merlin shot back, his tone blunt and unapologetic. “You’ve been in love with Harry for years, and everyone knows it. And Harry—” he added, turning his gaze to the man in question, “—you’re just as bad. You’ve been miserable ever since you pushed her away, and it’s been driving all of us insane.”

Harry’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Merlin. “Merlin, that’s enough—”

“No, it’s not,” Merlin interrupted, his voice firm. “You two need to stop pretending that this is just some professional relationship and admit that you’re head over heels for each other.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at Merlin’s words, your mind racing as you tried to process what he was saying. You had always known that your feelings for Harry were obvious to everyone, but you had never imagined that Harry might feel the same way. And now, faced with the truth, you didn’t know what to say, what to do.

“I don’t like him,” you said weakly, your voice trembling as you tried to deny the feelings that had been bubbling up inside you for so long. “Not like that, at least.”

Merlin scoffed, shaking his head as he glanced at Harry in the rearview mirror. “Do you hear this, Harry? She doesn’t like you ‘like that.’ Despite the fact that she’s been pining after you for years, she’s convinced herself that her feelings are one-sided. But we both know that’s not true, don’t we?”

Harry’s gaze locked onto yours, his eyes dark and intense as he leaned in closer, his voice low and rough. “Is that really what you think, Gawain? That I don’t care about you? That I don’t think about you every damn day?”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared at him, unable to believe what you were hearing. “Harry, I…”

But Harry didn’t let you finish. He reached out, his hand cupping your cheek as he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “But I was too damn stubborn to admit it. Too scared to lose you. But now, I don’t care anymore. I can’t stand the thought of you with someone else, and I’m done pretending that I don’t care.”

You felt your heart swell with emotion, your breath hitching as you looked into his eyes, seeing the raw vulnerability, the unspoken desire that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long. You had spent so much time convincing yourself that your feelings were one-sided, that Harry would never see you as anything more than a colleague, a friend. But now, hearing the truth in his words, feeling the warmth of his hand against your skin, you realized just how wrong you had been.

“I thought I was just a distraction to you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “I thought you didn’t want me.”

Harry’s eyes softened, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek as he shook his head. “You’ve never been just a distraction, Gawain. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I was a fool for pushing you away.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, your heart overflowing with the emotions you had kept bottled up for so long. “Harry, I—”

But before you could finish, Harry closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was filled with all the passion, all the longing that had been building between you for years. His hand slid into your hair, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his mouth claiming yours with a hunger that left you breathless.

You responded with equal fervor, your hands tangling in his hair as you poured all of your love, all of your desire into the kiss. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other, finally giving in to the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together as you tried to catch your breath. Harry’s hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin as he looked into your eyes, his expression filled with a mixture of love and regret.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m sorry for everything I said, for pushing you away. I don’t deserve you, but I’m not letting you go. Not now, not ever.”

You smiled through your tears, your heart swelling with love as you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

The air in the car was thick with the aftermath of the kiss you had just shared with Harry, a kiss that had been years in the making, filled with all the unspoken emotions and desires that had simmered between you. But as the euphoria of the moment began to fade, reality crept back in, bringing with it the weight of the things that had been said, the wounds that had yet to heal.

You pulled back slightly, your breath still mingling with his, and looked into Harry’s eyes, seeing the raw vulnerability there. For a moment, you just stared at each other, letting the magnitude of what had just happened sink in. But then, the memory of that night in the safehouse—the night Harry had shattered your heart with his cruel words—came rushing back, and the hurt you had tried so hard to bury surfaced once more.

You cleared your throat, your voice trembling slightly as you spoke, “Harry, you once told me that you would never, ever return my feelings. That I was nothing more than a pathetic and desperate girl pining for you."

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and filled with pain. You could see the way Harry’s eyes darkened, his expression tightening as he remembered the night you were talking about. There was regret there, a deep, aching sorrow that made your chest constrict, but it didn’t erase the hurt those words had caused.

In the driver’s seat, Merlin blinked, his hands tightening on the steering wheel as he glanced at the two of you in the rearview mirror. “Did Harry say that?” he asked, his voice filled with surprise and a touch of disbelief. “I didn’t know that.”

But neither you nor Harry responded to Merlin. Your focus was solely on each other, the weight of the past pressing down on both of you as you tried to navigate the emotions that were swirling between you.

Harry’s hand was still on your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin as he searched your eyes, his voice low and rough with emotion when he finally spoke. “I was angry, Gawain,” he admitted, his words laced with regret. “Angry at failing that mission, angry at being humiliated by Chester. But more than that, I was angry at myself for letting it get to me, for not being the agent I was supposed to be. And instead of dealing with that anger, I took it out on you. I lashed out because… because I couldn’t handle the thought of disappointing you.”

You blinked, taken aback by his words. “Disappointing me?” you echoed, your voice filled with confusion. “Harry, you could never disappoint me.”

Harry’s gaze softened, his eyes filled with a deep, aching sadness as he shook his head. “But I did,” he said quietly. “I let you down that day, and instead of admitting that, I attacked you. I said things I didn’t mean, things that were cruel and undeserved. You’ve always been more than just an agent to me, Gawain. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I was a fool to push you away.”

Your heart ached at his words, the sincerity in his voice tugging at the wounds that had been left raw for so long. But there was still a part of you that was hesitant, a part of you that wasn’t sure if you could trust him not to hurt you again.

“Harry, I—” you began, but your voice faltered, the words catching in your throat. You wanted to believe him, wanted to let go of the hurt and give in to the feelings that had always been there, but you couldn’t shake the fear that he would push you away again, that he would hurt you just as deeply as he had before.

Harry seemed to sense your hesitation, his hand moving to cup the back of your neck as he leaned in closer, his voice a low, rumbling whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking you to trust me, Gawain. Let me prove to you that I’m not going to push you away again. I want you, all of you, and I’m not going to let anything come between us.”

His words sent a thrill through you, a rush of heat pooling in your core as you felt the intensity of his desire, the sincerity of his promise. But there was still a part of you that needed more, that needed to know that this wasn’t just about the heat of the moment, that Harry truly meant what he was saying.

“Harry, you hurt me,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked into his eyes. “You made me feel like I was nothing, like I was just some pathetic girl with a crush. How do I know you won’t do that again?”

Harry’s eyes darkened with regret, his hand tightening on the back of your neck as he pulled you even closer, his voice a low, desperate growl. “Because I can’t lose you again, Gawain. I’ve been miserable without you, and I’m not going to let my own stupidity get in the way of what we could have. I want you, all of you, and I’m not going to let anything—or anyone—come between us again.”

You felt your breath hitch at his words, the raw intensity of his desire sending a wave of heat through you. It was as if all the tension, all the unresolved emotions between you, were coming to a head, and there was no turning back.

Harry’s lips brushed against yours, a feather-light touch that made your heart race. “Let me show you how much I want you, Gawain,” he murmured, his voice rough with need. “Let me make it up to you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, the heat between you growing almost unbearable as you looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity, the desperation there. You wanted to believe him, wanted to give in to the desire that had been simmering between you for so long.

But there was still a part of you that was hesitant, that was afraid of getting hurt again. “Harry,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you tried to find the words. “I…”

But before you could finish, Harry’s lips were on yours, claiming your mouth in a searing kiss that left you breathless. His hand slid into your hair, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a hunger that made your knees weak.

You responded with equal fervor, your hands clutching at his shirt as you poured all of your love, all of your desire into the kiss. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other, finally giving in to the feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m sorry for everything I said, for pushing you away. I don’t deserve you, but I’m not letting you go. Not now, not ever.”

You smiled through your tears, your heart swelling with love as you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I don’t want you to let me go, Harry,” you whispered against his mouth. “I never wanted you to let me go.”

Harry’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a tight embrace as he buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “I’m never letting you go again, Gawain,” he murmured, his voice filled with a fierce determination. “You’re mine, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure you know that.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, the possessiveness in his tone sending a thrill through you. There was something so raw, so primal about the way he held you, the way he claimed you as his own, and it made your heart race with anticipation.

Merlin cleared his throat, a deliberate and pointed sound that broke the intimate moment between you and Harry. The two of you turned to face him, your fingers still intertwined, the warmth of Harry’s touch grounding you even as your heart raced with the lingering emotions from your conversation.

Merlin raised an eyebrow, his expression carefully neutral, though there was a glint of something in his eyes—something that told you he wasn’t quite as stoic as he appeared. “Well, it’s no wonder you were so hurt, Gawain,” he said, his tone laced with a touch of dry humor. “If I were in your place, I would have dumped Harry’s ass ages ago and—”

Harry cut him off with a sharp look, his voice firm but not unkind. “Merlin, shut up.”

To your surprise, Merlin actually obeyed, his mouth snapping shut as he returned to his usual stoic demeanor, though you could still see the amusement lurking behind his eyes. He gave a small nod, as if to say, message received, before turning his attention back to the road.

You couldn’t help the small, breathless laugh that escaped you, the tension in the car easing just a little as you glanced at Harry. His expression softened as he looked at you, the corners of his lips twitching into a faint smile.

“I’m sorry for all of this,” Harry said quietly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he held your hand, his voice sincere. “I know I’ve made things difficult, but I’m going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

You smiled, squeezing his hand gently as you leaned into his side, the warmth of his body comforting. “You’d better,” you teased lightly, though there was no malice in your voice—just a gentle reminder of the hurt that had been caused and the work that still needed to be done to heal it.

Harry nodded, his eyes filled with a quiet determination as he looked down at you. “I will,” he promised, his voice low and filled with emotion. “I won’t let you down again.”

For a moment, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the weight of the past finally beginning to lift as you allowed yourselves to look toward the future. The tension that had been simmering between you for so long was still there, but it was different now—softer, more hopeful. There was still so much to work through, so much to say, but for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were finally on the same page, ready to face whatever came next together.

Merlin, ever the professional, kept his focus on the road, though you could tell he was listening to every word. He didn’t say anything more, content to let you and Harry have this moment, but you could see the small, approving smile that tugged at the corners of his lips as he drove.

You rested your head on Harry’s shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. Your fingers remained intertwined, a tangible reminder that you were no longer alone in this—that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

And as you sat there, surrounded by the quiet hum of the car and the steady rhythm of Harry’s breathing, you allowed yourself to believe that, maybe—just maybe—things were going to be okay.

#colin firth x reader #colin firth #harry hart #harry hart x reader #harry x merlin #merlin

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boybandbaby · 4 days ago

Text

The Sweet Escape Part II

911 AU (Prince!Evan Buckley x Fem!Baker!Reader)

previous part

word count: 3228

warnings/tags: toxic parents, forced/arranged marriage, classism, bullying?, shit-talking, cussing, eventual non-friend (wouldn’t say enemies) to friends to lovers, reader has a grandma, as always please lmk if i missed any

note: this is what I picture the reader wearing (does not indicate a specific hair color, skin color, or body size, I just really like this outfit!)

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

The Buckley's cordially invite you to a Royal Ball at the Palace

Please join us this Saturday the 5th at 7pm

Your fingers graze the invitation, white with gold writing, raised and shiny. You groan, throwing the invitation onto the desk in your room. You toss yourself back onto the bed and grab a pillow to let out a frustrated scream.

“Don’t be so dramatic, y/n.” Your grandma states from your doorway. “If you don’t go, I’ll just have you work with Ravi at the ball.”

“Then I guess I’ll be working.” You pull the pillow into your lap after having smothered your screams into it.

“So, why is the prince coming to our bakery to hand deliver an invitation to my granddaughter? Is there something I should know about?” She raises an eyebrow.

“No! He’s been bugging me almost everyday since I started delivering.” You groan. “He does this stuff to get under my skin.”

“Or because he likes you.” She suggests.

“Maybe in your time, the whole ‘boys bother girls because they like them’ thing was considered romantic but not today.”

“My time?” She scoffs.

“Come on grandma, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, I get it. The old lady isn’t hip to your new customs and slang.” She shakes her head. “I’m just saying, he seems sweet. Give him a shot.”

“He doesn’t even like me and I don’t like him! We’re not even friends.”

“Okay, well don’t be so mean next time. It’s bad for business.” She smiles. “I love you. Goodnight.”

“Love you too, grandma. Goodnight.” You lean into her forehead kiss before shutting off your lamp.

Buck doesn’t come down to the kitchen the next few deliveries and you’re wondering if you’ve actually upset him. You decide it’s better to go to the ball as a worker just in case he doesn’t actually want you there anymore.

You listen as Ravi tells you about his college classes. He’s a few years younger than you and works at the bakery on his days off for school. While his family comes from some wealth, he’s humble enough to work a regular job while also going to school.

You’re both tidying up the table you’re standing at, replenishing treats as people come and go.

“You came?” Buck asks, surprised. You jump at the sound of his rushed voice.

“Mhm. My grandma wasn’t too happy with my behavior the other day, said I might've hurt your feelings.” You turn to him.

He looks really good. He’s wearing a navy blue suit with a baby blue tie, some embellishments on the shoulders and a white sash across his broad chest.

“I wouldn’t say you hurt my feelings.” He smirks, having watched your eyes travel over his figure.

“No? Just bruised your ego?” You smile back, your usual bite and attitude gone.

“Just a tiny bit, yeah.” He watches as you set a cupcake onto a tiered marble display. “I didn’t invite you here to work.”

“Well, your mother had different plans.” You shrug.

“Promise me you’ll save a dance for me tonight?” He tries to meet your eyes. “I mean you kind of owe me.”

“Is that so?” You tilt your head.

“Yeah, since you bruised my ego.” He smiles, “Okay, so what’s the best flavor?”

“Here, try this one. It’s a vanilla cupcake with a caramel center, cinnamon sugar buttercream on top.” You hand him the gold foil wrapped cupcake.

You snicker behind your hand as he dives in. He’s a sloppy eater and gets frosting on the tip of his nose.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” He says, mouthful of cupcake.

“Yes, you’re so messy!” You giggle.

“Where? Here?” Buck puts the cupcake to his cheek, frosting stuck to his skin. You shake your head, laughing. “Here?” He touches the frosting to his chin, cream cakes in his stubble. “Did I get it?”

“You’re such a dork, Buckley.” You grab a napkin and usher him forward. Buck leans over the table, cheeks warming when your left hand comes to hold his face as your right hand wipes the frosting away. “There.”

Bucks eyes flick to your lips as you say it. “All clean?”

“All clean.” You nod, pulling your hand from his face. Buck's eyes meet yours for a moment before he stands up straight.

The interaction is interrupted by an aggravating voice. “Evan, you don’t need to be eating sweets, you need to be out there mingling.”

“Mom-" She snatches the cupcake from his hand and tosses it into a trash bin.

“Evan.” She raises a brow at him. He sighs before saying goodbye to you with very sorry eyes. When he passes behind her, he mouths “one dance” with his pointer finger up as a reminder. You watch as he swerves through the crowd, heading into Eddie’s direction.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a cough. You meet the Queen’s eyes. “Good evening your majesty.” You bow to her and then swivel on your feet to bow to Maddie, who approaches for a cookie.

“The bread has been a little dry lately.” She states to you.

“Mom!” Maddie chokes on her bite of a snickerdoodle cookie.

“Oh hush,” she waves her hand at Maddie. “I hope tomorrow’s batch will be fixed?”

“Yes ma’am.” You gulp. You’re normally one to argue but know there’s no good in fighting with the Queen. Plus, your bakery is known for how fluffy, moist, and airy your baked good are.

She makes you feel so small and the sinking feeling in your chest drops to your stomach. She reminds you that you don’t belong in this world, his world, and the realization that you’ll never have Evan Buckley, hits you hard. The Queen nods once before moving into the direction of her husband.

“I’m sorry about her.” She grabs a napkin from the table. “She can be a lot. I mean, can you believe she’s put on this whole thing just for Buck to get a wife?”

“What?” You startle.

“You don’t know? They want Buck to find a wife by the end of the night. That’s why there’s so many girls here. It’s kind of an unspoken thing.” She chuckles. “Buck isn’t very happy about it.”

“Oh… I wasn’t aware.” You mumble. You start to feel sick to your stomach. Is this why he invited you here? Does he possibly feel the same? Or is he trying to use you to get back at his parents?

You excuse yourself, Ravi stating he can handle the table while you’re gone. Your corset feels like it’s getting tighter around your belly and chest. You start to feel yourself losing control of your breathing. You rush into the bathroom, passing the powder area, then locking yourself into a stall.

You won’t let yourself cry here and not for these people. Just as you’re ready to exit the stall, you hear a voice.

“Did you see him with that baker girl?” The voice is shrilly as she sprays perfume onto her gown.

“I did! She was touching his face, basically, draping herself all over him and sticking to his side like a Velcro dog. I mean come on, his parents would never let him date let alone marry trash like her.” Another girls voice states, lips smacking to smear her newly applied lip gloss.

“You think she’s sleeping with him?” The first voice states. “He was pretty flirty with her.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me, I mean Evan slept with me on our first date but then again look at me. I definitely don’t think he would hook up with her, just look at her.” Lip gloss girl laughs.

“And did you see her dress? God, it just screams poor.” Perfume girl chokes out another laugh.

“You’re right, Evan has standards. I mean she could never give him what he needs.” Lip gloss girl puckers her lips and blows herself a kiss in the mirror.

“And you can?” Another spray of perfume.

“I already have.” She slips the gloss into her bag. They both laugh before slamming the bathroom door shut behind them.

You’d fought with yourself on whether you should leave after finding out this whole thing is for him to find a wife but after hearing those girls say those things about you, you’re ready to bolt. You can feel tears blurring your eyes and a tight ball in your chest.

Why do you care so much about what those wenches think? You’ve never cared about girls like that and their opinions but after dealing with The Queens micro-aggressions towards you, you wonder if Buck feels the same. Maybe he thinks you're an easy lay or someone he can walk all over.

You run to the sink to splash water on your face before going back to the table. Your grandma would be upset with you if you left the ball and you’d be mad at yourself for letting these uppity assholes get to you. Also, you’d never leave Ravi alone to deal with everything.

With a deep breath, you check your face for any signs that you've been crying and smooth down your skirt. Just as you exit into the hallway, Buck turns the corner and stumbles into you.

“Whoa! Hey! I was looking for you. I’m cashing in my coupon for a dance.” His fingers inch toward your sleeves, feeling at the fabric.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea. Your parents won’t be pleased.”

“Nonsense. One dance.” He hand grips your arm, not tight enough to bruise but firm enough to have your head reeling.

“Is that an order?” You attempt to smile, he doesn’t seem to notice that it’s forced.

“Only if you keep rejecting me.” He winks. When you don’t come up with a quick response like you normally would, he grins and holds his other hand out.

You hesitate, hand lingering at your sides. He wiggles his fingers and you forget for a moment that something between you two could never happen. You let yourself go and wonder if this would be the only and last time you’d be able to interact with him like this.

After tonight, he’ll be an engaged man. He’ll soon have a wife and then be a ruler and maybe a father. You hardly know him! Does he even want children? His duties will force him to produce an heir but you wonder if he wants kids himself. You think he’ll be a great father one day and hopefully a great king.

As he pulls you onto the dance floor, a wordless, piano ballad echoes in the room. He wraps an arm around your back, hand placed respectfully at the center, as his other hand holds your own. You place your empty hand on his chest.

“I think this is the closest you’ve ever let me get to touching you.” He points out.

“This is least annoying you’ve ever been.” You joke. He laughs, it’s boyish and loud. There's a moment of brief silence. “So, you’re really going to be king soon?”

“Sounds like it.” He sighs.

“And that’s why you invited me tonight? To be an option in your pool of potential suitors?”

“Not an option. More like my number one choice.” He flirts, though there’s sadness laced in his words.

You laugh incredulously. “You’re a piece of work, Buckley. So, what’s your deadline for picking a wife?”

“By the end of the night.”

“By the end of the night? Have you even really gotten to know anyone here?” You look around.

“No, that’s kind of why I was hoping you’d agree to be my wife.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You roll your eyes. “What makes you think I would agree to something like that?”

“I know it was a long shot but I also know you have a soft spot for me. You try to act like you hate me but deep down I know you don’t.”

“Agreeing to an arranged marriage with you sounds like torture.”

“So, you really don’t like me, huh?”

“I mean the whole idea is just… wrong and I know you don’t have much choice so I’m sorry for that. But I know who ever you choose will be lucky. You can be really annoying some days but I also know you have a big heart and mean well. Just don’t give your heart to someone who’s not in it for the right reasons.”

“I’ll take that as you do like me.”

“Shut up, Buckley.” You push his shoulder. “Let’s say I do agree to be your wife. What’s in it for me?”

“I know you’ve been telling Bobby that you need a new stand mixer. I could maybe buy you that?” He offers.

“You’re serious?”

“Dead serious. I know a stand mixer isn’t equivalent to marriage but that’ll just be the start. Then maybe we can get those renovations you’ve been dreaming of.”

“You remember when I talked about those?” You gasp. “That was like 2 years ago.

“2 years and 3 months. Plus, I remember everything you say.” He bites his lip.

It’s unlike you to agree to something so crazy, so permanent, but Evan Buckley has a way of getting to you. His blue eyes and his sweet smile, the way his eyes crinkle shut when he’s so happy, his birthmark, so unique and beautiful. It’s all the initial reasons you fell for him before you got to know him. That part you’ve tried to shove deep down comes up as you look at him and you find yourself agreeing to marry him.

It’s probably the most unromantic proposal: “Will you be my arranged marriage wife?” He whispers in your ear, both arms wrapped around your waist.

You laugh before nodding. “This is crazy, Buck.”

“You’re a life saver. I’ll never be able to thank you for doing this.” He rests his cheek against your head.

Buck has pulled his parents, Maddie and Chim aside. They stand in the King's office.

“So, who have you chosen son?” The King asks.

“Y/n.”

In comes a forced laughed then a strict “no.”

“But I chose someone like you asked and I’m happy with my choice.” Buck begins to get worked up.

“Evan, we said someone who would fit the role of future queen. She is a baker. I mean, running a bakery is not like running a kingdom.”

“She’ll learn. I’ll help her.” He pleads.

“No, you’ll choose someone else.” He commands.

“How about June? Her family owns the shopping plaza, they make good money and we would be able to maintain a strong network with them.” His mom chimes in.

“Please, I never ask for anything. I’m asking you to let me choose this one thing. Please.” Buck nearly cries. Maddie steps forward to run a hand over his back.

“Y/n, she’s a… nice person but she’s not right for you.” His mom cringes at her words.

“She’s perfect for me.” Buck looks to Maddie for help then to Chimney on Maddie’s other side.

“Evan, she’s… she’s just not good for the family.”

“What does that even mean?!”

“It means she’s not good enough. She doesn’t come from wealth, she’s a villager. Don’t you have higher standards for yourself?”

“That’s ridiculous. You don’t even know her.”

“And you do? You see her when she delivers the bread every morning. Bread delivery! You could have any woman in town and you’re going for the lowest of the low. You know just as much about her as we do. You’re living in fantasyland, Evan.”

“It’s not a fantasy.” Maddie interrupts. “Buck is smart, he wouldn’t be choosing her if he thought it would be bad for the family.”

“This is not up for debate anymore. I’ll choose your bride and we’ll be done with it. Get your head out of the clouds Evan, you’ll never be a good king if you don’t shape up.”

They exit the room. From your position in the hallway, you crouch down behind a large vase with a bush of flowers. You’ve heard everything and it’s cemented in your mind that you and Evan could never be.

With tears streaming down your cheeks for a second time tonight, you wait until their footsteps and conversation can no longer be heard. When it’s all clear, you make your way down to the kitchen where you hope no one is there to see you. You’ll collect all of your items and make your way back home on your bike. Ravi has since left so you will have to go alone.

You’re almost fully free, just the few steps that lead you up to the back door where your bike rests.

“Don’t leave!” Buck cries, pulling you back by your arm, not too hard. “I’m so sorry you had to hear that.”

“It’s fine.” You turn away, not wanting him to see you like this. “Look, maybe your parents are right. Plus, if we were to marry, I would have to leave my grandma and the bakery and I just can’t do that.” You justify.

“You wouldn’t have to, I’d make sure of that. Please just stay so we can talk about this.” Buck intertwined your fingers. “I’ll persuade them to change their mind.”

“Buck, let’s be real. It’ll never work between us. We come from different worlds. We’re too different. I’m sorry.” You rush out. “I’m sorry I couldn't help you out. I hope you find someone who treats you right.”

“Don’t go. Please.” He sobs. “Look, I know we’ve never been friends, you’ve made that clear but I feel like we’re getting somewhere. I wouldn’t want to go back on the small progress we’ve made.”

“Consider us friends then. I’m sorry. I wish you the best, Buck but I have to go.” You pull your fingers from him before making your way out.

Buck feels the wind knocked out of him when the door shuts with a slam. He stumbles on the stairs and holds onto the brick wall as he descends into the kitchen. He feels lightheaded and nauseated.

The night’s events have gotten you worked up and burnt out. You don’t even bother undressing when you get home and your grandma has been asleep for hours. You have a restless night, tossing and turning, replaying the words and actions of everyone in Buck’s social circle. You can’t get the image of Buck’s cloudy blue eyes, the sounds of sticky lip gloss smacking or the scent of floral perfume out of your head.

When you finally get to sleep, it feels like minutes later that you have to be up for your daily delivery.

In bold print, fresh off the printer, is the morning paper sitting beside your apron.

ANNOUNCEMENT

Attached below is a photo of Buck, hand in hand with a woman you’ve never seen before. Below reads:

Phillip and Margaret Buckley are pleased to announce the engagement of their son Evan Buckley to June Samuels, daughter or Ronald and Antoinette Samuels. Plans are currently underway for the big day. The palace workers are working their hardest to ensure the Buckley’s vision comes to life. The Buckley’s are overseeing every detail to celebrate the special occasion. Announcements will soon be sent to a carefully chosen guest list. We congratulate the beautiful couple and wish them the best in their future endeavors.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

next part

#911 abc #911 x you #evan buckley x reader #911 x reader #evan buckley x y/n #evan buckley x you #evan buckley

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green-eyedfirework · 9 months ago

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It was a slow day, and Dick was finally getting around to reorganizing his herbs after Tim and Cass had gone through them. He loved his little siblings, he really did, but Tim’s organizational system could only be comprehended by him, and Cass had a bad habit of not cleaning up after herself. His last client had hobbled home to finish resting her once-broken ankle, the house call to the new mother and baby was over in early morning, and he had all the time to rearrange his cupboard.

The door creaked, and a shift of fresh air tugged at his hair, accompanied by heavy, bold footsteps.

Well. Dick stared at the array of herbs spread around him and sighed. Maybe he should invite Jason over, his little brother wouldn’t be able to help himself from organizing Dick’s stuff. “I’m coming,” Dick called out, levering himself off the floor and clearing a path to the front with a snap of his fingers.

Three sets of footsteps and no greeting, so Dick wasn’t expecting anyone from the village. He lived a little further into the woods—closer to the plants he needed and the wild call of nature he used to replenish his magic—but most of his clients came from the village. They were familiar and friendly.

He sensed the spark of wild magic a second before he saw the scowls on their faces. Werewolves.

“Hello,” he said pleasantly. “What can I do for you today?”

The one in the lead, silver hair bound tightly in a braid, bared her teeth at him. It would’ve been a lot more intimidating if she wasn’t a teenager. “You can come with us, mage,” she sneered, “We require your services.”

There was a chill down his spine, easily brushed off. Everyone and their pet wanted a collared mage—the trouble was putting the collar on them in the first place. Someone like Dick, who’d honed their magic for years? It would be easier to put a leash on a werewolf.

Healing and killing were two sides of the same coin, after all.

“Are you injured? Is someone in your pack injured?” Dick asked, still pleasant as he sent out a testing probe. Three werewolves here, three more skulking at his back window, two outside the front door. No more in the immediate vicinity, but their pack had be close by for a show of force this large.

The posturing werewolf snapped her teeth. “We have enough wolves to take you down,” she threatened, “Either you come with us quietly, or we’ll drag you behind us.”

Dick let his smile drop. “Well,” he said in the tone of voice he used whenever he found Tim and Damian fighting, “That’s rude.”

On his little brothers, it could barely quiet a vehement argument. On the wolves, it sent them skittering a step back, hackles raised.

“You’re coming with us,” the wolf said, but her voice wavered, her gaze locked on his hands as he rested them on the table.

The door behind them swung open. In the distance, they could hear growls and curses. “You should probably not threaten a mage in their own home,” Dick chided lightly, and flicked his fingers.

The wolf’s eyes widened to pale blue saucers, but she couldn’t get out more than a half-strangled, “Wait—” before they were spun out and the door slammed shut behind them.

Dick exhaled slowly, and let the sparks of magic recede back under his skin. Then he stepped back, over the piles of unsorted jars, and picked up his satchel.

~#~

The curse is a nasty, sunken, barbed thing. Half of it is hidden, which means that Dick spends more of his magic than is wise before he realizes the scope of the thing, realizes he can’t just yank the thing out.

Under his hands, the wolf is screaming. He does his best to tune it out.

The surge of magic battling magic is enough to keep any interference away, so Dick settles into the slower, longer, more meticulous path of prying the curse out, tendril by tendril. It fights his attempts to destroy it as he goes, so he has to expend even more magic on containing it until he can get the whole thing out.

It’s tedious, draining work. It’s gone firmly dark by the time he finishes sliding the last piece out, and the twist it takes to compress the curse into a tiny speck and shred it to whispers nearly makes him stagger. His magic reserves have gone distressingly low.

Dick abruptly remembers where he is. The camp around him is full of wolf growling, loud and agitated. His patient is passed out, skin gray and clammy and looking ten times worse than when Dick started. The cuts—the cuts are bleeding freely, red and thick.

He needs to leave. He has just enough magic to put on a show of force if needed, and he needs every last sliver to bluff his way out. He cannot be caught here. Not by a pack that’s already expressed interest in putting a collar around his neck.

The boy is bleeding. He will die, werewolf healing or not. Dick can sense the corruption the curse wrecked, magic gone but its effects lingering. If he heals this, it’ll take every scrap of magic he has left.

It’s a choice that’s not a choice. Dick’s a healer. He can’t go against his nature.

Dick breathes in and breathes out, and lets his magic pour out.

Heart and lungs and kidney and liver, a thousand tears in muscle where the wolf tried to fight the curse, blood loss and weakened bone and a hundred small damages. The cuts, large and bloody, slowly knitted together under his trembling fingers. Too slowly.

His vision is going black. Dick fights it, fights it with every breath. As long as he can remain upright when it’s done, as long as he can walk out—he’s proved his fighting capabilities, as long as he gives them no reason to doubt him—

Dick’s head swims. When he forces himself back to consciousness, he’s half-collapsed against the bed. He uses the movement to examine the wounds, as though that was his intention all along, his heart pounding loud and sluggish. They’re almost closed.

Something pops in his ears and the growling disappears to a low buzzing.

He does one last check for any lingering damage as pink, waxy skin unfurls across the wounds. There are some minor injuries left, but the werewolf can heal those on his own as soon as he’s gotten some food.

It’s time for him to go.

Dick curls shaking hands on the edge of the bed and allows himself one breath before he lets go. Everything is curiously muffled, muffled and ringing, and when he drags his head up, he can see the alpha on the other side of the bed.

Mouth moving. He’s saying something. Dick can’t hear him.

He takes a step back, away from the bed, away from the alpha—he needs to get out, needs to watch for a path, needs to avoid being cornered because all he has is dregs and it’s not enough to scare off a bear.

His head aches, like someone took a hammer to it.

Dick needs to leave. Now. Only he’s not sure he can turn without everything spinning. The ground feels like it’s roiling under his feet.

He blinks, and the alpha is suddenly much closer. Dick stumbles back another step in surprise. His stomach turns over, but there’s nothing in it. He worked too long and without food.

Dick has to get out. He has to—everything inside him is screaming danger—he can’t stay, they want to keep him, he needs to leave—

Something wet touches his lips. Dick raises a hand, feeling like he’s moving underwater, and wipes it across his mouth.

It comes away red.

It’s the last thing he remembers seeing.

~#~

No one can get to Grant, no one can even touch him with all the magic swirling around the mage, and Slade is forced to stand there, a few steps away, and watch his firstborn scream under the onslaught.

Nothing works to stop it. Not words, not weapons, not every magic-dampening sigil they’ve ever collected. Slade can do nothing but wait.

Grant stops screaming. His wounds run red and red and red. Slade’s claws are fully extended—he will tear the mage from limb to limb if it’s the last thing he does. He just needs an opening.

Slade doesn’t know how long before the magic falters. It’s just a second, but the second is enough to register how much worse Grant looks, like the mage is draining his life away. By the gods and the moon, they should’ve left it alone. At least Slade would’ve been able to hold his son while he died. At least he wouldn’t be in so much pain.

The magic swirls back before anyone can attack, and the pack paces restlessly along the perimeter. Everyone’s expressions are twisted in grief and fury.

The mage will not leave here alive. That much Slade swears.

The magic is…quieting almost. Like it’s slowly winding down. Still impenetrable—Rose tries and fails to get past it, but the shimmer is receding. Slade stares at Grant, half-dreading that his son is already dead.

But Grant’s chest still rises and falls. The amount of blood loss is…shrinking. The wounds seem to be closing over. In fact, when Slade darts a glance at his son’s face, Grant appears to be getting better.

His skin is no longer ashen, his breaths are fuller, and as the magic recedes, Slade steps forward, stuck in an incredulous daze. Grant looks better. Grant looks like he’s healing.

Slade pays no attention to the mage’s movements, his gaze fixed on the miracle in front of him.

The magic dies down to nothing but flickers, and Slade can finally touch his son again. Grant is warm and alive and healthy under his fingers, and Slade lets out a shuddering gasp.

“Thank you,” he says hoarsely, lifting his gaze to the mage. He doesn’t know what the man did, but Grant is alive, Grant is healed, Grant is safe. “I don’t know how I can ever repay you—”

The mage looks terrible. His skin is waxy and gray, his eyes sunken, his frame curled in on himself. He’s trembling, and his breaths keep breaking. As Slade watches, the mage takes a step back and nearly trips on flat ground.

“Hello?” Slade calls out slowly, tension creeping back in. “Hello, can you hear me?”

The mage looks at him blankly.

Slade rounds the bed, casting one last glance at Grant—alive, healthy, alive—before inching closer to the mage, who looks as worse as Grant had at the start. Slade doesn’t know a whole lot about mages and magic, but he doesn’t think this is a good thing.

“Can you hear me?” Slade repeats, before he notices the red creeping down from the mage’s ears. The mage’s expression has gone unfocused. There’s red creeping out of his nose too, blood smearing across his lips, and the mage raises a hand to wipe it off.

He blinks down at the blood on his hand. And then he crumples.

Slade is close enough to lunge and catch him before he cracks his head open on the ground, and the mage is alarmingly light. “What’s the matter with him?” Slade growls as the pack presses in, all concerned murmurs.

Villain manages to fight his way to the front. “Magic overuse,” he diagnoses after taking in the mage’s—too weak—pulse and examining his face. “He’s drained himself nearly dry.”

Slade looks back at Grant, sleeping peacefully on the cot, and down at the mage, who appears to be two and a half steps from death’s door.

“Will he recover?” he can hear himself ask. Slade was willing to do near anything for his son’s health, but to use a life to restore life? That kind of sacrifice, from someone not pack—

“He should. Time, and rest, and enough food. Come, he’s too cold, he needs to be kept warm.”

#my snippets #mage/wolf au #magical exhaustion #yet another one

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jeridandridge · 8 months ago

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For Lovers At Night part 4

You and Melissa go on a real date. Someone catches on to her activities. words: 3454 Previous chapter

A night of pure bliss sends Melissa into the most delightful sleep she’s had in years. Lying tangled between the sheets with you running your fingers through her hair sent her into a spiral when she woke, wondering if everything was actually real. You two had stopped at some point for a break, you leaving the room on wobbly legs to get water and fruit for you both to replenish before coming back to steal kisses and more stories of each others past.

“Hi,” she grumbles out hiding her face in your neck.

“Hi, gorgeous.” You grin not stopping your movements. Waking up to Melissa’s weight against you, the smell of lavender and vanilla gave you a sense of happiness, loneliness you’d felt before melting away. Having been so career driven for so long and not really having family often took a toll on you. But now with Melissa everything was beautiful again. “Sleep good here?”

The redhead stays glued to you, her fingers moving up and down your side in lazy patterns including over the small bruises that cover your hips. “Better than I have in a long time, hon.”

Her raspy morning voice sends a spark through your body, of course she’d be incredibly attractive after just waking up. “You know, it’s really rude how stunning you are right now.”

“You already got lucky, Tesoro. No need to sweet talk me.” She hums.

Shifting gently to look at her you move your fingers to play with the necklace against her skin. “I really do like you, Mel. I wasn’t just trying to get into your pants.” You tell her softly, hoping your actions from the previous night and now could really show her.

Melissa knew that there was something between you two already. Something of real substance and feelings, not just a quick hook up. Looking in your eyes she moves her hand up to your cheek, something she’s now used to doing in such a short time of knowing you.

“Be patient with me while I get used to- us.” She whispers hoping you understand. In that moment she hates how she sounds. Scared and unsure, hoping you don’t get sick of her.

“I don’t know what your ex did to make you feel this way,” you start, “but I’m not him. How’s the quote go, ‘If your dear heart is wounded, my wild heart bleeds with yours.’

A smile spreads across Melissa’s lips, eyes bright and full of a spark. “Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, Carmilla.”

“A queer horror love story long before Dracula.” You beam gently squeezing her hand that cups your cheek. “I remembered that quote the first night I met you. You were sitting there reading and you were so content in that little corner. I tried to find a reason to come talk to you again.”

Melissa leans forward, peppering your cheeks and lips in soft kisses with a smile still on her flushed cheeks. You let out a laugh wrapping both arms around her gorgeous frame.

Letting out a content sigh the redhead takes her place back on your shoulder, her thumb still caressing your cheek as she cuddles in not wanting to move just yet.

“Do you need to be anywhere today?” You ask quietly.

Melissa thinks, knowing she doesn’t have much to do but grade some papers and do laundry all while avoiding Joe.

“Nope. I’m all yours.” She hums meaning it in more ways than one.

“Good,” you grin. “I think a real date is necessary.”

Melissa chuckles dancing her fingers across your skin. “Last night didn’t count?”

“Last night was- amazing.” You beam as flashes of red hair and the sound of breathy moans flood your memory. “But you deserve a real date. I’m a hopeless romantic at heart.”

Lifting her head up Melissa pulls the sheet around her body sliding off the bed leaving you bare.

“Where you going?” You laugh watching her wrap herself in the soft fabric. Propping yourself on your elbows you watch her silhouette behind the divider wall.

“Your cute little kitchen to make breakfast.” She calls out finding her discarded panties and your hoodie that were thrown to the floor the previous night.

“After last night I should be the one cooking breakfast.” You laugh through a stretch, eyes going to the ceiling. Laying there hearing Melissa move around your apartment puts a triumphant smile on your lips. Getting up to find your discarded clothes you dress and come out spotting Melissa with her hair up and your baggy hoodie on her.

“You’re so cute like this,” you beam coming up behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist.

“What, with sex hair and a sweatshirt?” She laughs.

“Yep.” you grin kissing the side of her neck. This felt so natural to you, having so easily blended together in the small space.

“Careful, hon. I refuse to burn food. Mark that down.” She hums leaning into your touch.

“My apologies and noted.” You laugh slowly pulling your arms away going for the coffee pot. “You’re Italian and you cook, let me guess you make a mean ziti.”

“Damn right I do. Only problem is I can only cook for large groups of people.”

“Good thing I’m a bottomless pit. Cook away, Schemmenti.”

The morning carries on and Melissa cooks up the best breakfast you’re sure you’ve had since you lived at home. At your small kitchen table you sit talking and laughing with the redhead over more anecdotes from your life as you two get to know each other more.

“I did! I made like three hundred bucks that night too. Well, before the cops came.”

Melissa has her head thrown back, laughing in the small chair across from you. “A girl after my own heart, that was a hot spot in high school.”

“I can’t imagine how many parties were broken up in that hell hole over the years.” You laugh into your coffee cup. “I could picture a high school Melissa there.”

“Oh yeah?” She beams, “Do ya think we would’ve been friends in high school or college?”

“Definitely. If you spent time in the library or art room, you’d see me in the corner.”

Melissa grins at the mental image as she plates the food, patting your butt to go to the table. Breakfast passes by with jokes and soft touches, your fingers intertwined with the redheads when you make a suggestion for your first date.

“Pick a number, one or two.” You suggest.

The redhead looks at you with a quirked brow as she plays with your fingers. “Two.”

“Good choice, how do you feel about going for a walk around the park before the place opens?”

Melissa sits back with a grin intrigued by your suaveness. “It’s already almost noon, where you taking me, hon?”

“You’ll have to wait and fight out.” You chuckle gathering the dishes to clean up.

As you stand at the sink Melissa hears her phone chime in her purse nearby. Getting up to retrieve the device her face turns sour when she reads the name on the screen.

Joe: Did you stay the night at Barbs?

Rolling her eyes Melissa texts out a quick yes adding that she’ll be with Kristen Marie all day. She knew her little sister would cover for her.

“Anything fun going on?” You smile taking a seat on the couch.

“Nah,” Melissa shrugs setting her phone back down. “It was one of the other teachers asking about career day coming up this week.”

Melissa has always been good at lying, it’s a skill she picked up at an early age only now she finds herself feeling guilty for lying about little things like this to you.

“Hey that sounds fun, I bet a day like that gives you teachers a bit of a break.” You smile having no idea of Melissa’s inner turmoil.

“That’s also what movies and legos are for.” She chuckles. “Should we get dressed if you’re gonna take me to some mystery second location?”

“Maybe a shower first.” You smirk getting up, taking your clothes off as you make your way to the bathroom. Melissa follows you briskly, resulting in a shower that’s for sure to make your water bill high.

In the mid afternoon you find yourself walking hand in hand with Melissa to the mystery destination. As you two walk you can’t help but smile, the sun hits auburn hair just right and it makes your stomach jump.

“What? Do I look okay?” She asks adjusting her leather jacket she found herself loving once again.

“Nothing,” you chuckle, “you’re really beautiful is all.”

Melissa gently squeezes your hand smiling with her chin up just slightly. Leaning over as you two walk you kiss the corner of her lips. “Ha! Got ya.”

“Poor me,” she teases staying close to you. As you go through the park you see flowers blooming along the bishes, breaking away from Melissa for a moment you hop over to the brush to pick a purple petaled flower tucking it behind her ear.

Melissa lets out a chuckle gently touching the flower. She was in big trouble with this woman and it was more apparent at this very moment. Looking at the new person in her life she can’t help but be vulnerable for a moment with a giddy smile.

“You make me feel special.”

Slipping your arm around her waist you lean in kissing the tip of her nose. “I want to for as long as you’ll let me.”

Out in the cool spring air in the lively Love Park no less, Melissa wraps her arm around your neck pulling you into a gentle kiss. Smiling into against her lips you cant help but come to the realization that you were completely entranced by this woman.

“C’mon, let’s get to this real date.” You beam. Through the park along the street of businesses and tourist traps, you lead Melissa to a building opening the door for her.

“No way.” The redhead lets out as she realizes where you two are. “Axe throwing?!” She lights up like a little kid, practically jumping.

“Yep.” You laugh guiding her to a stool at the bar in the front of the building. “Acohol and sharp object are an interesting combination.”

“Funny, my cousin Niko says the same thing.” Melissa jokes sliding her jacket off into the seat. “It’s five o’clock somewhere right?” She asks flagging down the bartender.

After a warm up drink and signing a waiver, you stand in your caged in area in the back recording the redhead wind up holding the axe over her head.

“Is it wrong I think you look really hot with that?” You tease getting a laugh out of her.

“Don’t throw me off, Amore!”

Holding your phone up you grin watching her arms flex as she throws the axe, it landing right next to the bullseye. “So close!”

“Someone was distracting me.” She hums stepping toward you.

“Do I still get a kiss for good luck?” You tease resting your hands on her hips.

Melissa leans up obliging, giving you a featherlight kiss. “Go on, right now it looks like I’m picking our next date.”

“We’ll see about that, Schemmenti.” You grin stepping up to get the axe she threw.

“If I get a bullseye, I get to take you to the Phillies home opener.”

Melissa’s jaw almost hits the floor at the idea. “You- you wanna go to a Phillies game with me?”

“Yeah I do.” You grin turning around, winding up to throw. Melissa admires your toned arms, undoubtedly from moving books and shelving in the bar. She remembers when she met Joe. He was just out of the army and very much still in shape. Now, as a second shift firefighter his age and wear on his body showed along with the grey that was beginning to show in his dark hair.

Snapping out of it when you flight the axe, Melissa laughs seeing it go right to the red mark in the center of the circle.

“Remind me to never introduce you to my brother.” She jokes.

“Oh yeah? Does he have a thing for throwing sharp objects?” You laugh coming over wrapping your arms around her, the rest of the noise in the place now more lively, becoming background noise.

“Kinda, yeah.” She laughs resting her arms around your neck. This silly activity was certainly something she loved.

Later on in the night after a goodbye kiss, Melissa gets home around eight o’clock ready to get prepared for another week of work while Joe works on whatever in the garage.

“Hey, how was it with Kristen Marie?” He asks not looking up from the toolbox.

“The usual, gossip and backhanded compliments.” Melissa shrugs, not bothering to stop before she goes in the house, her mind still on you.

The next week goes on as it usually does. Texting occurs and phone calls when possible, and Melissa finds herself falling in love with the younger woman that’s occupied her thoughts nonstop since meeting. At the end of the week she teaches and is ready for a much needed break during career day. She was actually grateful that Joe said yes to coming in to speak to her class in the afternoon.

When the time arrives for Joe to come in, Melissa gets up going to the door. “Okay my little eagles, our next guest is a firefighter!” This gets a waves of gasps and “woah!” from the kids, eagerly ready to meet him. “Everyone say hello to Mr. Peterson.”

Joe comes in looking his best with a friendly smile for the kids. Waving, he comes in standing next to Melissa. “Hi guys!”

“Wait, are you married?” One of the kids asks putting two and two together.

“We are, kiddo.” Joe nods. “Isn’t Mrs. Peterson the best teacher,” he smiles knowing his wife loves her kids.

A chorus of “yeah!” fills the room before Melissa chuckles calming the kids down to let Joe talk to them about being a firefighter in the city.

A few blocks over, you sit in your office with a smile on your lips as you scroll on Facebook on your phone. You’d sent Melissa flowers at work, and were eagerly waiting for a text or call to hear about career day. You’ve known the woman for less than three months and it was way too soon; but you knew you were falling for her already. Sitting there feeling curious thinking about the woman that’s stolen your heart, you do a quick search looking for a Melissa Schemmenti hoping to learn more about her.

Scrolling the page your brows knit together when you see her profile picture, but with the name Peterson on the end. Maybe she hadn’t changed her last name yet is what you think. Clicking the page, you see her profile pictures, one of her and Barbara, another of her and who you guess is her sister, and a public post written on her wall by a Jospeh Peterson from only a month ago. The post shows a wedding photo in a frame and a long, tiring rant of “I’m not perfect but she loves me anyway” post that you’ve seen so many times before.

Taking a screenshot of the post and the profile, you sit back taking it all in. She lied to you. She was married still, not even close to being out of a relationship. You needed to talk to her.

“Did you like it?” Melissa smiles from her desk, Joe sat on a chair on the other side as they eat lunch together. It was strange having him there, something he hadn’t done since her first year teaching.

“It was fun, the kids are great, Melly. I see now why you talk about them so much.”

Giving him a tight lipped smile she takes a sip of her iced tea looking up when there’s a knock on the door from the school security guard.

“A delivery for you,” he ushers the man forward, clearly from a flower shop given the purple exotic flowers in his hand.

“For Melissa Schemmenti?” He asks checking his clip board.

Melissa’s eyes go wide and her heart starts to pound when Joe looks at her.

“Thanks pal,” Joe nods to the men getting up to take the flowers closing the door after.

“Joe I-“ Melissa steps forward trying to grab the bouquet.

“Who the hell is sending you flowers under your maiden name?” He asks turning the flowers around, not caring if he ruined them while looking for the card. Melissa sees it first, swiftly reaching over and swiping it away before he can read it.

Taking a breath she looks at her husband. “I need you to remember we’re at my job where a bunch of children are present.”

“I don’t give a shit, Melissa!” He fumes. “Who the hell is sending you flowers? What’s his name?”

Stepping forward he snatches the small card from her hand reading it aloud with an almost red face.

“Hi gorgeous, I find myself thinking that even a week without seeing you is too long now. To quote one of our favorites, ‘you reached in and put a string of lights around my heart.’ It might sound cheesy but it’s the truth.

Yours, y/n

Joes tosses the card down and paces running his hand over his beard.

“A woman huh?”

Melissa wants to curl into a ball and sob. She didn’t want it to happen this way. She was only happy that he had no idea who you were.

“A woman, I can’t even go kick anyone’s ass.” He lets out in a defeated laugh.

“This ended a long time ago Joe. It ended the first night you cheated on me.” Melissa stands her ground not showing any fear, finally tired of it all.

“Oh come on Melissa! I thought you were over all of that.” He tries to dismiss her. That’s when she gets angry.

“Fuck you,” she lets out in a bitter laugh. “You and I both know that every single time I found out you cheated on me I had to stop the boys from coming to kill you on the spot. I’m tired of knowing you’re fucking other women and not giving two shits about me. I let it go so we wouldn’t have to deal with the shame of a divorce, but I can’t anymore. I’m too old for this.

I met her when I wasn’t expecting it, and I definitely wasn’t expecting to have an affair. It just happened, it happened and god I love being taken care of and looked at like I mean something.” She starts to cry, her heart pounding. “For the first time in twenty years Joe, d’you know how long that is? To feel wanted and loved?” She whispers.

Joe meets her eyes, cheeks red but eyes softer now after her admission. He does nothing but look at the flowers and back at her with a nod.

Melissa stands across from him, eye makeup running and nerves twisting.

“I want a divorce.” She lets out in a whisper.

“I’ll move out tonight.”

With that, Joe grabs his keys and leaves, the door hitting the wall as he goes. Moving to her desk Melissa sits with her head in her hands, sniffling when Barb comes to her door.

“Melissa I- oh sweetheart.” Barbara rushes over engulfing her friend in a hug.

Resting her hands on the arm Barb has around her, Melissa lets out a sigh. “I did it, Barb. He found out. He found out and I did it. I asked for a divorce.”

Looking at the flowers and the discarded carb and mess on the desk Barbara rubs Melissa’s back. “I’m proud of you, sweetheart. Did- did these do it?” She asks nodding to the vase.

“Yeah,” Melissa sniffles wiping her smudged makeup. “They were delivered with a card when we were eating.” She takes a staggered breath trying to calm down.

“Calm yourself and clean up, text her to say thank you while I go pick your kids up from the lunchroom. We can talk later over dinner.”

Of course Barbara’s a saint, taking care of her and helping her out like the work wife she is. Melissa nods, sniffling once more as Barbara leaves to get her kids. Taking a breath she wipes her eyes and picks up her phone, freezing when she sees a text on her screen.

Opening it she sees your name and a screenshot of her Facebook profile. She can feel her heart breaking in her chest when she sees the anniversary post and your words underneath the screenshot.

We need to talk.

Next chapter

#abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #Melissa Schemmenti #Melissa Schemmenti x reader #lgbtq+ fiction

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in-search-of-a-fallen-star · 1 year ago

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blood and sugar

put together a quick drabble to celebrate Wriothesley coming home early <3

Pairing: Wriothesley/Reader

WC: 813

Content warnings: brief descriptions of canon-typical injuries, ( bloody nose and bruises). otherwise just fluff.

“I would tell you to remember this the next time you decide to get into a fistfight with a rogue Gardemek, but we both know you’re not going to listen,” you sigh, pulling the first aid kit out of the cabinet and bringing it over to his desk.

“I was just doing my job. Someone had to put that thing out of commission before it hurt someone,” Wriothesley smiles up at you from where he’s sprawled in his chair. The bloody nose and bruised knuckles only add to his rakish charm, not that you’re going to tell him that.

“Oh, please. I know you can’t resist a challenge, especially if you’ve been told it’s impossible. Also, someone did get hurt, in case you missed that,” you say primly, gently poking one of the rapidly darkening bruises as you begin the careful process of disinfecting his wounds.

“Your bedside manner is terrible, my dear nurse. I’m in pain, you’re supposed to comfort me and kiss it better.”

“Not your nurse,” you say absentmindedly while you wrap his hands. “Just filling in for Sigewinne while she’s out. You can ask her for kisses when she gets back.”

He wrinkles his nose in distaste at the suggestion, and then winces as his wounded nose protests the movement. “I’m not gonna ask Sigewinne. Only your kisses make me feel better,” he wheedles.

You examine the wrappings on his hands. Satisfied with your handiwork for now, you bring one of his hands to your lips. Ever so gently, you brush a kiss across his knuckles. Beneath you, you hear his breath hitch. You reach for his other hand, dusting a kiss to the bandages there before you push yourself up and begin to gather the first aid supplies back into their box.

Before you fully remove yourself from his space, Wriothesley catches your wrist, holding you for a moment. When you turn to look at him questioningly, he taps his lips with a smile. “You missed a spot.”

You lean down, hovering your face over his. His eyes slide to half-mast and his lips part ever so slightly as his chin tips up towards you.

“Hmm. Looks fine to me,” you muse, grabbing the first aid kit and stepping neatly out of his reach. You hear his head thunk against the back of his chair as you return the first aid kit to its place in the cabinet. Making a list in your head, you return to his desk, taking a piece of scrap paper and a pen to make a list of supplies in the first aid kit that need to be replenished after its most recent use. The whole time, you feel his eyes on you, piercing grey-blue irises trained on your face.

“You gonna make me beg, sweetheart?” he rumbles, voice low.

“Yes,” you snipe back, not taking your eyes off the list you’re making.

His chair creaks in protest as he gets up, boots treading heavily as he rounds the desk. He plucks the pen and paper from your hand, tucking them into his breast pocket. He crowds into your space, slowly, letting you feel the warmth of him as he backs you into his desk. You sway back when your hips collide with the hard edge, and he keeps you there, dropping a hand to the edge of the desk and leaning in so close you can smell the sweat on his skin from his earlier bouts in the ring.

“Please,” Wriothesley murmurs, breath hot on your cheek. “Please, sweetheart, lemme kiss you. You’ve been driving me insane today, all dolled up and looking so sweet.”

You look up at him through your lashes. His eyes are blown black, dark and beseeching above you. “C’mon sweetheart, have mercy on me,” he begs.

You’ve had your fun, you decide. He has, after all, begged like you asked. It’s a small effort to close the gap between you and press a sweet kiss to his lips.

He doesn’t let you go far. When you pull back ever so slightly, a growl rumbles from his chest and he pulls you back to him, crushing his mouth against yours. He kisses you like he’s starving, devouring your lips.

You’re no better; you might play your games but you’re just as hungry for him as he is for you. You sink your hands into his hair and hold him close, clinging to him as your lips slide against each other.

The two of you are lost in each other for a moment, before a knock at the door startles you apart.

“Your Grace, Sigewinne is here,” a voice comes from the other side of the door.

You tidy your appearance, taking a step away. “Time for you to get looked over by an actual nurse,” you tell him with a smile. “Try not to bother her too much.”

#genshin impact x reader #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #genshin impact #wriothesley #ves.writes

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icarusdescending7 · 6 months ago

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Aquamarine - Chapter 1

Ao3 | Next Chapter

Your fiancé died seven years ago, and you joined the military in his wake to fill the void his death put on you. Now, you work with the 141 for an assignment, hunting associates of their enemies.

Their Lieutenant, however, given you an uneasy feeling. You have a vague sense of familiarity with him, but from where?

-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-☆-

You took a deep breath as you left the helicopter. Your boots kicking up dust in every which direction as you made your way to the gathering of men at the end of the strip. The blades of the helicopter spinning it away and spitting more back at you. The sun was beaming scorching rays on you, making you squint, even with the black paint that coated the skin around your eyes. You took in a breath, outstretching your hand to shake the hand of the Captain before you.

Today marked the seventh year since your fiancé, Simon, died in the field. KIA. You never got his body back, and it took you far too long to come to terms with his death. You joined the military as an effort to forget him and the life you’d built with him. It worked, somewhat. Your anniversary, his birthday, and the day of his death were ever-present in your mind and you always took those days the worst. You’d would usually end up hungover in your bed, sporting the ring you’d found in the ashes of your shared home after you’d burned it down in hopes of feeling some relief from your emotions. It was brilliant, a shining aquamarine set into a gold band. He’d wanted to marry you, yet he never even had the chance to ask. You clung onto it, wore it in with your tags as you travelled the world, hoping that one day you’d actually see him again. In 4 years, you had lost hope, losing your humanity with every battle you fought, losing your sense of morality with every man you executed. But the ring kept you grounded. Reminded you why you were here. You’d make sure it stayed sparkly, polishing it once a month, taking it to many jewelers to replenish the band when the chain of your tags wore it too thin, even making sure they preserved the etching in the seat of the band- Mrs. Riley.

“Captain Price. It’s good to finally meet you.” You said, shaking his hand firmly. “I take it this is your team?” You gestured to men behind him, dressed casually.

“Pleasure to meet you in person too, Lieutenant Firefly.” He shook your hand in turn. “These are my Sergeants, Soap MacTavish and Gaz Garrick, and my Lieutenant, Ghost.” He gestured to each man, the Sergeants waved but Ghost just stared. This made your brow furrow but you thought nothing of it- maybe he’s just used to not having to do this. Though, the look he gave made chills run down your spine.

“Well, its a pleasure to meet all of you…” You smiled through the uneasy feeling. “As you know, I’m Lieutenant Firefly. I’m here to assist with following a string of leads you got. Hope to get along with you.” You offered a wave to them all. “Since I’m going to be here for a while, I was informed that my personal effects were moved here. Where might I find my living quarters?” You questioned, turning back to the Captain.

“Right, we haven't received anything yet but I’ll let you know when we do. Soap will show you to your quarters.” He gestured to the Scotsman, who was eager to smack the back of your shoulder and lead you along.

He led you to a plain building with a small plaque outside marked “141”. He led you down a few hallways, opening a door to a common room with another hallway, where rooms lined the path. He took you down and stopped at the last door, opening it for you.

“Right, an’ here we are!” He chirped, “We switched rooms so the girl could get a nice one. Ye’ can thank Ghost for that, make sure his sacrifice is recognized.” He beamed, taking up a mocking tone at his comment about Ghost.

Your hand went up to your tags, pulling them out and fiddling with the ring. “I’ll make sure I do, thank you Soap. I’m gonna take a minute to settle then I’ll be out, yeah?” You asked, shooting a smile his way. He nodded but didn’t leave, instead pointing to your tags.

“Real pretty ring, ‘ye engaged?” He asked, leaning in a little closer to get a better look. “Aquamarine? Hey, that’s Lt’s favorite! You two’ll get along, I think.”

You stepped back after he made his observation, smile faltering a little. Another chill went down your spine at the mention of Ghost, what made him so unsettling to you? “I’m not engaged- not anymore anyway, this was my fiancés. He was KIA a decade ago. I found this in the ashes of our home.” You explained, waving it off. “Just a little keepsake.”

“Ah, sentimental? I get it, I carry my older sisters old Claddagh ring around as a good luck charm, see?” He reached into his pocket and pulled a small journal out, pointing to the ring attached to the leather strip that bound it shut. “She passed a few years back, so I get it.” He smiled faintly, looking at the ring before putting the journal back in his pocket. “Anyway, I’ll leave ‘ye to it. We’re probably just gonna be out in the commons, so join us whenever.”

You nodded as he left, clicking the door shut behind him. You set your bag down on the bed, taking a look around the room. You shed your heavy gear onto a chair, running your fingers over the worn wood of the desk it sat at. Little carving dotted its surface, some new, some old. A dog, some bullets, even a rough carving of a woman’s face. You turned around, taking in the slight decor of the room. Some old paintings, an even older lamp, a musty looking chair, worn side tables. The bed was big, bigger than any you’d encountered anywhere else during your time in the military. You hummed, thankful. Even if the man gave you the creeps, he was still nice enough to give you a big bed.

You fell backwards onto the bed, fiddling once again with the ring. “I’ll have to make sure I polish this when my stuff get here.’ You thought. You brought it up to eye level, turning it over to look at the engraving in the seat. You sighed at the sight, taking a moment to mourn what you could’ve had. That moment was cut short at the sound of knocking. You sat up and looked at the door, then a gruff voice came from the other side.

“Hurry up, Price just got word your stuff’s here.” It called. It wasn’t one you’d heard before, was it? You paused. That tone, the roughness of it, it was so familiar but so unfamiliar at the same time. Even down to the Manchester accent.

There’s no way.

You shook your head, trying to get the thoughts to dissipate before they made you spiral. ‘You’ve thought this about everyone who’s sounded even remotely similar! You need to get over him!’ You yelled at yourself, but you didn’t believe yourself. You managed to get the thoughts to go away, gathering your composure before going to the door and exiting. The person on the other side was gone, so you simply made your way out to the common area, where everyone but Ghost was seated. He stepped forward and Price spoke.

“I just got the message that your stuff’s here. Ghost’s gonna help you bring it back.” He smiled. Ignoring the awkward feeling in your gut, you returned it.

Before you could say anything, Ghost brushed past you, as if he would die if he were close to you for any reason. You were taken aback and looked at Price, who shrugged, as if to say “That’s just how he is.”. You sighed, following him. He set a brisk pace, and was hard to keep up with at a walking pace. Finally, you ended up at the depot, where all incoming packages and transferred items wound up. He got to the desk before you, requesting your stuff to be brought up. The man at the desk disappeared for a moment, coming back with a cart and two small boxes. He warned you both that it was heavy, but two of you made light work. They were mostly clothing and a few books anyway.

He helped you heft your stuff back to your quarters, but the silence was thick and uncomfortable. You were the first to say something as you shifted the box in your arms, trying to throw it up to your shoulder.

“Do you normally talk so little?” You’d asked, which was met with more silence. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

More silence, then another question.

“Why the mask? You look brooding.” Once again, silence. “Okay… awkward.” You grimaced.

It was a long, awkward walk. He stopped to hold the door for you and you entered, but he didn’t follow from the door. He seemed almost frozen. When you approached again, he snapped out of it, storming away from you and towards the commons. You could only stand there, confused.

You arrived a little bit after him, and the rest of the guys were sat there staring at you. Their faces reflected the same confused look, and you felt a little better.

“Does anyone know…?” You asked, setting the box in your arms on the back of a couch. “What he’s so worked up about?”

They all shrugged, Soap speaking up. “I ‘spose we’re just as confused as you are, lass. He came storming through here angry as a hornets nest.” He said, leaning over the couch to see Ghost leaving your room and entering his, the door shutting with a slam. “Somethings got him, though. That’s for sure.” He grimaced.

#icarusaquamarine #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #cod mw2 fanfic

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eywaseclipse · 2 years ago

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Burning Desire*

Characters: Na’vi reader, So’lek featuring Ri’nela

Synopsis: (Pre-hallelujah mountain battle and rda resistance) So’lek and y/n go into the jungle for a daily herb retrieval to help with Ri’nelas healing practices, when you come across a strange looking flower. So’lek accidentally brushes past it, causing an aggressive pollen to pollute the air and affect him. The flower just so happens to be the Txunmga Mowan Fìsyulang also known as the Poisonous Pleasing Flower. The effects of the sex pollen only enhance what feelings are already there, creating a stronger more powerful desire, bringing all to the surface. If not treated immediately one may feel as if they are dying, causing extreme sexual agony and discomfort.

Warnings: really just no plot all smut 18+ only

Word Count: 3k

You finish the last strand of hair completing your fresh braids, as you string you favorite jade bead into your silky black locks with a satisfied sigh. Your feather and leaf top sways lightly as you rise to get your herb pouch and bow together. You take one last look in your mirror to asses your work, grabbing your things, securing your knife, and bow waiting for So’lek to accompany you on your extractions. The sudden flap to your tent moves with a slap, causing your head to turn to the source. A toothy smile meets your own, as you see So’lek enter your home. “Hey sevin pretty.” He greets you. “Hi So’lek.” You can’t help the way your heart beats a hair faster at the sight of the mighty warrior, your cheeks blushing in the process. “You ready for herb retrieval today? Ri’nela gave a list of what she needs replenished.” You nod your head, “Yup. Spent yesterday with her as she went over everything. I’m all set.” You say securing your bow and arrows one last time. You notice the way his eyes slightly advert from your face, to your chest just barely gazing to your nipples poking through your feathered top. A small smirk falls on your face as you catch him, a cough erupts both your thoughts. “I-okay, let’s go.” He awkwardly waves his hand to you. You chuckle to yourself as you both descend from the branches and into the thick of the forest.

You walk in comfortable silence, the sun peaking through the leaves of the canopy leaving streaks of light across your blue skin gently caressing it with warmth. You let out a content sigh, with So’lek enjoying the hot afternoon as well. “Did Suya finally lose her baby tooth?” You interrupt the quiet. So’lek looks to you, eyes wide in amusement. “Yes, but only because she begged me to tie a string around it and yank it out so she would get her prize.” You and him laugh, knowing how entertaining that would be to witness. “My, what a sight that would’ve been huh?” “You should have seen it, my dad almost passed out from stress.” He laughs to you. Just as you’re about to respond a small plump object obstructs your path. You quickly avoid the round fruit and look down. “Holy shit So’lek look! Utumauti Banana Fruit.” Your happy eyes look to So’lek just as shocked as you are, kneeling down to get a better look. “You know what they say about those who find a bananafruit right?” “Good luck.”

You smile. You take the plump fruit, and hold it out to So’lek, offering it to the warrior. “Here, you should have it. I know it’s your favorite.” You nudge it towards him. His hands lightly push it back to you, “No way, you’re the one who found it pretty girl. It’s all yours.” You lightly roll your eyes to him. “Did you fall on your head So’lek, you know it’s rude to refuse a banana fruit. Come on have it, it’s what I want.” You smile. You see the internal conflict through his eyes knowing that as a Na’vi custom it’s rude to take the offer as Eywa would like the fruit to be enjoyed by its finder. He sighs deeply, grabbing the fruit from your hand, taking out his hunting knife and proceeding to cut it down the middle slicing it in half, juices dripping down his hands. “Here, we share it.” He says with a proud smirk. “Alright.” You take your half of the fruit and slowly bring it to your lips, the pungent delicious flesh pops in your mouth, with the sweet flavors bursting onto your tastebuds. “Mmmm” You close your eyes in delight, hearing So’lek do the same.

Both of you relish in the rare find of an untouched bananafruit from the canopy treetops, humming in satisfaction, continuing your search for the herbs Ri’nela requested. With one of the plants on your list now in front of you, you begin scan the leaves of the ripe Paywll water plant, squeezing the succulent skin to make sure it can be harvested for its wondrous healing properties. Content with the ripeness, you take your hunting knife and begin cutting the ends of the leaf to put into your herb pouch, “Y/n come take a look at this plant, I have never seen one of these before. Was this one on this list?” You turn your head to where he points to the blue flower. “What plant?” You inquire. But it’s too late, he sneezes loudly as the pungent pollen invades his nose causing the disorientation to make him stumble back. You run to him, gripping his shoulders looking for any signs of injury. “So’lek?! Hey!” His eyes meet yours, blinking several times as if in a trance. His pupils begin to widen so much, they completely drown out the color of his amber eyes. You stare in horror as his expression turns into something you can’t quite name. You look down to where the fallen flower sits in the grass, kneeling to get a better look. Its beautiful blue petals have speckles of purple and bioluminescent dots scattered all around, with the inside has its pollen. And then it occurred to you, during the wet summer season many of these poisonous flowers bloom in the damp areas of the forest. “Shit.” You whisper softly. You turn your head back up to So’lek where his chest begins to fall up and down, breathing harder and harder. “Y/n what’s happening to me? Fuck.” He groans out.

You slowly bring yourself in front of him, looking to where his skin begins to sweat small beads from frustration. “So’lek, don’t panic. But I think you just inhaled the fumes of the Txunmga Mowan Fìsyulang Poisonous Pleasing Flower..” So’lek struggles to keep his composure as he fights the urges now beginning to take their effect. “The what?” He groans out. “Fuck I gotta call this in. Ri’nela will know what to do.” You bring your fingers to your neck comm, silently praying she’s wearing hers or close by to hear you ping the channel, as you hear So’lek fall to the ground with a loud thud. “Ri’nela, this is y/n, it’s an emergency!” “Y/n?” Her voice sparks to life. “Ri’nela, I think So’lek might’ve inhaled the toxic fumes of the Poisonous Pleasing Flower. I don’t know what to do, it seems it’s taken its effects already.” You wait anxiously for her reply. “Shit, y/n, this is not good. The only way to satiate the poison is to… allow it to run its course.” “How? I’ll do anything.” You hear her take a deep sigh. “Y/n, he’s about to feel the most intense sexual urges, you need to be careful. The plant only heightens the emotions of one’s desires that already exist. I shouldn’t tell you this, but So’lek feels those urges towards you. You need to be careful.” Your stomach drops to her confession, could you have heard her right? Sexual urges? So’lek? For You?? “Ri’nela what are you saying?” You whisper softly. “I think you know..You have to tame the beast or else the poison will cause his mind to aggressively hallucinate. Under the sex pollen’s effect one will think they need to have sex or they’ll die. It’s best to submit to avoid getting hurt. I’m sorry y/n there’s not much you can do now.” Your ears pin to your skull, knowing Ri’nela is only trying to help. You sigh, “It’s okay Ri’nela I got this. Thanks.” “Good luck.” She bids you goodbye. You can hear the shaking in her voice worrying for you, but you look to where So’lek is now heaving in confusion, you must do whatever it takes to help him.

You rush to his side bending down, careful your touch doesn’t alarm him. “Y/n I feel…ah!” He winces to your touch. “Fuck I’m sorry So’lek! This was the sex pollen from the Poisonous Pleasing Flower.” “The what? Fuck why am I feeling this way?” He looks down to where his loincloth forms a tent, his now throbbing length creating a tight bulge through the material. He begins to whimper, bringing his hand to palm his growing boner closing his eyes in the process. You’ve never seen such a sight before, your cheeks flush with embarrassment. Trying to look away, but you can’t help but stare at him in wonder. “So’lek, the effects of the poison will have you believing that if you do not relieve yourself through sex, you will die.” “Fuck” he whimpers. You witness him start to aggressively hump the air, bucking into nothing as he desperately clings to pleasure himself, when suddenly he pounces onto you with your back hitting the soft grass. “Ah!” A surprised yelp escapes your mouth. “Y/n, this feeling, I can’t fight it. I don’t think I can hold back. Everything I feel right now, is telling me to fuck you senseless. To breed you completely and take you as mine. I’m trying so hard not to hurt you.” He whimpers out.

You see the way he bites down on his lip, his eyes squeezed shut with brows furrowed tightly. Your heart aches knowing he is clinging onto the last thread of composure and sanity, desperate to be the gentleman he was raised to be. You know he is waiting for your verbal consent, it’s all he needs before he can truly unleash the beast waiting to erupt from within. You take a gulp of breath, touching his face softly, as he moans in the process. “So’lek, it’s me. I’m here. It’s okay. I want you to fuck me. Make me yours, I’ll submit to you completely.” You see as his eyes shoot open, huge pupils penetrating your soul. “You-you’re sure? Ah fuck. If I start I won’t be able to stop. I might hurt you.” He groans out fighting the pleasure. “So’lek don’t worry about me, I can take it.” You nod furiously. That’s all he needs to hear, as he plunges his lips into yours in a violent kiss. His tongue immediately assaults your own, poking into your mouth causing a pathetic whimper to escape. His teeth clank into yours, as he pushes his head as hard as he can into you.

“Fuck.” He starts to rut his hips into yours harder and harder, your loincloth now beginning to soak with your own arousal. “Oh So’lek that feels so good, don’t stop.” His ears perk up to your sweet little whimpers, as he flips you over bring your body onto his stomach. “Look at you submitting to me little girl. All desperate. I bet you have the sweetest little pussy.” He growls into you. “Come on, sit on my fucking face.” He whines. You immediately do as he says, fearing any resistance could result to danger. You’re quick to untie the strings of your loincloth, releasing from your tail, it falls down, as you throw it to the side. Your throbbing pussy lips glisten in the afternoon light, your juices now falling onto his stomach. “Oh fuck, even prettier than I imagined.” He groans. Your swollen bud practically throbs with excitement as you feel his strong hands grip your hips harshly, bringing you to hover over his face.

Your cheeks flush with shyness, as he aggressively lowers you to his mouth, your clit immediately making contact with his nose. “Oh!” You squeal out. “Mmmmmm.” He groans into your silky lips, relishing in the taste of your sweet nectar. He begins to prod his tongue through your tight hole, flicking it back and forth while his nose rubs against your clit over and over again. You look down to where his eyes are closed in complete bliss as you grip his braids holding on for dear life. “Oh!” You throw your head back in ecstasy feeling him begin to suck and slurp harshly. He brings his head to sway back and forth, shaking it to give you the perfect amount of stimulation, as he brings a free hand to slip under his loincloth desperate to feel his own release. The fire burning in your stomach starts to reach its height, feeling his lips begin to suction onto your swollen bud, “Oh So’lek!” You scream out. All he can do is moan into your pussy, the vibrations sending electricity to course through your veins. With one last harsh suck, you feel the fire now erupt through your body with your thighs convulsing violently on top of him. Your juices squirt out onto his face and chest coating him with your nectar. Your breath heaving you look down to where he lays, as you climb off of him. You see a dark spot in his loincloth from his own release, making eye contact with his barely ring of amber eyes. He wipes his mouth quickly, eyes darting to your body up and down like a Thanator stalking its prey, “Fuck you tasted even better than I imagined.” He groans out.

You lean forward to undo his own loincloth, assisting him to get rid of the material him bucking his hips in the process. The cloth falls to the the ground and his still hard cock slaps to his toned stomach with a loud smack. His own juices coating his azure skin, as your eyes bulge out of your head at the sight. He growls once more, placing his hands around your waist. “I am going to fuck you so hard you’ll forget your own name. You belong to me now. Understand?” He squeezes your skin harshly, “Ah, yes So’lek I am all yours!” You whimper out. He smirks deviously, bringing your back against the tree, then spinning you around. A slight tug to your tail is made as he wraps it around his forearm for leverage. The contact alone has your pussy pulsate with anticipation, your back instinctively arches in the air as you press your ass into his cock. “Oh so needy baby. Look at you submitting to me. You’re such a little slut huh?” He slaps your pussy hard, as your back arches even more praying he fucks you soon or you’ll combust. “Tell me!” He shouts. His hips buck into the back of your pussy, his hard cock sliding through the folds of your silky lips. “Tell me what a little slut you are!”

He grunts. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you cling to the last of your composure. “I’m a little slut! I’m your slut!” You whimper out in desperation. “Good girl.” He huffs. Without any warning, he plunges the tip of his swollen cock straight into your pussy. Your slicked walls welcoming him with ease, as his cock brushes against your cervix. “Fuck!” You scream out in bliss. His pace is brutal, so fast and unrelenting, that it forces you to grip onto the base of the trunk for dear life, arms stretched out straight to keep you from falling down.

Your ears are filled with the sound of slapping skin, his balls violently smacking against your ass as his cock drills into you, squelching into your pussy. Your eyes begin to roll back once more in complete bliss. “Fuck so wet baby! This all for me?” He grips the back of your neck with one hand as his other presses into your belly. The outline of his cock poking through your skin, “Feel that baby, that’s me fucking you balls deep. Gonna get you pregnant.” He whines out. “Oh fuck! Yes! Get me pregnant So’lek please!” You scream out. All rational thoughts of taming this beast fly out the window, as if you’re under the trance of the pollen yourself. He brings the tip of his cock out of your pussy, then slams it as hard as he can into your hips with brute force. “Unf” You whimper out, no longer being able to form a sentence. Your incoherent slurring fill Neteyam’s ears with pure euphoria as he feels his tight balls twitch readying for release. “Gonna fill you right up. Fuck! My little cum dump aren’t you?!” He groans into your ear. You turn your neck to face him, cranking it to the side, as he grips you jaw and goes in for a violent kiss. Your tongues immediately finding one another. “Ugh! So’lek I’m gonna cum!” You whimper out.

His pace begins to lose rhythm, as he approaches his own climax. The pace so fast it makes your head spin, as your pussy clenches around his length harshly. “Oh fuck princess! You’re so tight, squeezing me so good.” He loses control, feeling your tight walls close in on him as he brings his hand to tug your tail, bringing you as close as possible. Your pussy pulsates around him as you release your orgasm in a crescendo of bliss. “Ah!” You scream out, the blinding white pleasure causes spots to appear in your eyes, with your head thrown back in complete delight. The feeling of your tight walls squeezing his cock causes him to reach his high, as his hot white seed coats your pussy, shoot into your womb. You feel yourself milking him dry, as the last of your high causes you to clench around him once more, your bodies heaving in absolute delight. So’lek brings his forehead to rest on your shoulder as he finally feels the effects of the poison lifting off of him like a stone sitting on his chest. His breathing starts to even out, as he hears yours follow suit. He’s careful to pull out of you as gently as possible, gripping your waist for stability as your weak little whimpers fill his ear with guilt.

Your slumped form now slowly turns around, to meet his eyes as he tries to avoid contact with you. “Hey, So’lek look at me. Are you alright?” He shyly meets your concerned gaze, shocked that it’s even possible you’re still here standing in front of him on your own two feet after what he’s just done to you. A monster. “I’m fine. Y/n. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.” He says in a hushed tone, with tears beginning to form in his eyes. “So’lek, it’s alright baby. I wanted this. I don’t want you thinking I didn’t want this.” You softly stroke his cheek as the tears begin to fall, catching them and wiping them away. “What I just did was dishonorable. I- I am so ashamed.” He looks down in horror. “So’lek, the plant’s poison works so that the victim feels the emotions that are already present, just heightening the sexual desire. I felt it as you did. I wanted this. I have wanted you since the day at the watering hole 5 years ago.” You chuckle lightly. He raises his eyes to meet yours, “What? You mean to say.” “Yes So’lek.” You shyly nod. Is it true? The girl of his dreams confessing her love to him, he blinks several times in disbelief. “I had always hoped that I would get your parents blessing to mate with you under the spirit tree and take you as mine, this… this is not what I planned.” He sighs. “Hey look at me, we have time. We have not stained anything. If you still wish to court me, mate me, you have me So’lek. I am forever yours” You smile to him placing his hand your beating heart. He smiles so wide his fangs glisten in the sunlight, causing you to mimic his own. “I could not ask for anyone else y/n, my heart is yours eternally.”

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jules-writes-stories · 8 months ago

Text

Into the Night

A Retelling of Hades & Persephone | Azriel x Eris | Azris Week | Day 7| Equinox

Cast of Characters |

The first two parts are below. Read the whole story on AO3.

Scarlet hair blew across a pale face, like blood on freshly fallen snow. Golden eyes were lights upon dark water, a windy smile. He wanted this fae of Forest and Flame, like nothing he’d ever wanted before. Ours, the shadows whispered.

Each day was the same. Azriel spied on the beautiful male gliding through Autumn’s citrine-ruby forests, watched him slip between stalks of grain and orchards, the scent of stone fruit and loam cloying in the setting sun.

Somehow the shadows had found their way into this court of hearth and harvest, once in thrall to a wicked Fire Lord, whose wife rose up and took the throne. Now, she ruled as Autumn’s High Lady with her seven sons. And it was the eldest that Azriel desired for his own.

He’d told his brothers, Rhysand, High Lord of Night, and Cassian, Lord of Bloodshed, just how much he needed the prince of Autumn. “Not until the Equinox,” Rhys had insisted. And Azriel was a patient male, a spymaster and a shadowsinger. He could wait for what was his.

Even as the golden cord that bound him to his mate, woven by the Mother herself, dragged at the unruly beast that was his heart.

Today was the Equinox, most High Holy Day in Autumn, and all of Prythian. When Day and Night aligned in perfect balance. It was the one night each year, when the magical boundaries and borders dropped between Prythian’s courts. All fae, High and lesser, Solar and Seasonal, united as one, beneath the Mother’s loving gaze.

Eris Vanserra, heir of Autumn, prepared for this night of revelry, like any other. He wore green velvet and diaphanous silk that whispered of trysts in moonlit forests. Gold lined his pointed ears, a single hoop in one nostril.

Warrior, prince, fae of fire—this was his kingdom. And tonight, he would find his pleasure and replenish the land, to give back to its plenty. The prince left for the Forest, his brothers close behind. Fae danced around pyres, in time with distant drumming, already buzzing on wine, the scent of sex, sweet and smoky, in the night.

Eris felt alive and aroused, in need of something he could not place. Soon. The drumming paused as voices hushed. Crackling bonfires and the breeze in ancient treetops were the only sounds.

Now.

His magic was rising. It snapped beneath his tongue, itched his palms. Tingled at his fingertips, and down his spine. Until there were full sparks, flames along skin, at the tips of his hair, wreathing his hands. It was life and death and sex, to forget one’s before and after—not to become or have been, but to be.

Now.

As his magic settled, finally, pulsing through his veins, Eris looked up in awe, ready to receive the Mother’s love. And this was why the fireling was taken so completely off guard. For it was at this very moment, while all of Prythian’s eyes were on the heavens, that Hel’s shadows and darkness came.

* * *

Now. It had to be this very moment. When the wards between their courts were unguarded. Azriel commanded the shadows to bank the bonfires with darkness. Fae cried out as the earth quaked, seeming to cleave open, as the Night Court male landed silently in the darkened Forest.

The shadowsinger reached out and with strong, scarred hands, pulled the fireling, by his narrow waist, to his chest. Mine.

The golden thread thrummed with pleasure at the contact, at the scent of embers and rain, of the male in his arms. Amber eyes took in hazel.

“Who are you?” a voice, breathless, but unafraid, asked in the darkness.

“I am the singer of shadows. I am yours,” Azriel whispered back, his breath against the skin of the male’s white cheek. And then, before the Autumn fae could panic or react, they were passing through folds of space and time.

* * *

Eris was lost in the darkness, his only anchor a pair of strong arms, a solid chest, the scent of mist and moonlight on cedar. He was holding his breath, eyes squeezed shut.

“Open your eyes,” a low voice rumbled, laced with amusement. The Autumn prince did, and what he saw, left him speechless. He clung to the leathers of a male, built like a warrior, with enormous, bat-like wings, spread against the night sky. And this male’s beauty was heartbreaking. His raven curls were perfectly tousled, as if the wind herself had run long fingers through them. Golden brown skin, high cheekbones, and hazel eyes lined with thick lashes.

Eris pulled away with a jolt, baring his slightly elongated canines. Flames coiled along his hands. “Take me back to my home.” He growled, with all the authority of an Autumn prince.

But the winged male simply smirked and stared. His eyes moved slowly, starting at Eris’s red hair, the flushed tips of his pointed ears, then shifted with lazy dominance, downwards, lingering at molten eyes, a perfect nose, kissed with faint freckles, to the male’s pink, pouting mouth.

Heat coiled low in the fireling’s belly, at the base of his spine, arousal licking through his veins, even as he grew angry. Who was this male, to look at the heir of Autumn, with such possession? The fae prince bared his teeth again, flames growing hotter.

Hazel eyes, unphased, unhurried, continued to move down the prince’s lithe frame. They took in the long column of a pale neck. Broad, graceful shoulders and a narrow waist. Hips that would feel perfect in his hands.

And then, the winged male, shrouded in shadows, said, “Eris, you are home.”

I tagged anyone who asked/expressed interest, but please lmk if you ever want on/off my 🏷️

@c-starstuff-man0, @natashachelsea @chunkypossum, @fieldofdaisiies @jir67 @futurehunt @the-darkestminds @hellolordling @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @brekkershadowsinger @disney-acotar-hp @moonpatroclus @azrisweek @unanswered-stars @theartofmischief @lilah-asteria

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he-calls-me-kitten · 2 years ago

Note

I literally love ur blog sm! Do u think u can do just really soft sex with Satan after a long day at rad? If not that's fine but have a great day/night love!

Awww this is so adorable! Soft sex is so underrated honestly and it being with Satan?? The wrathful Avatar being gentle just for you? Oof my heart-

Thank you for the ask, love! So sorry for the extreme delay - it's such a lovely idea!

"You look like you've had quite a day." Satan smiled as you entered his room and plopped yourself down on his bed, next to him.

"Ugh don't ask." You groaned as he chuckled and put his arms around you. He didn't need to ask, you'd tell him anyway.

"So Levi and Mammon flooded the classroom because of a stupid bet of who can hold their breath under water the longest. Fyi it should have been Levi cause he's literally a water snake in his demon form but he forgot to transform and it ended on a tie."

Satan facepalmed. Must he call these imbeciles his 'brothers'? "I'm guessing that lead to a tie-breaker." He said, running his fingers through your hair.

"Yes and Beel and Asmo got involved. It was a duo challenge now of who is a better team player! And as you can guess Asmo and Beel kept getting distracted and it ended up being a solo effort by Mammon and Levi. Which again... wait for it... ended in a TIE. But now guess who is the new tie-breaker?"

"Oh no, MC..."

"Oh yes MC! I had to run 3 laps with each of them in a weird relay race! I've had it with today!" You say, hiding your face in his pillow. His scent was always so relaxing.

"Well thank you for still coming to see me after all that." Satan smiles, rubbing soothing circles on your back. "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

You peeked up and looked at his softened gaze. In times like these, he never denies even your most ridiculous requests.

"Hold me tight." You said and watched color rush to his cheeks. You turned towards him as he eased his arms around you, with your neck buried in his neck.

"I can do a little more than that...if you'd like." He said as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. The way his fingers inched under your top, asking for permission replenished all the energy you lost through the day.

"I'd like that."

Satan pressed a kiss against your mouth just as you uttered the words. Your lips opened on their own, letting his tongue slip in and entice moans from you.

Patient yet passionate you couldn't understand how he did it, you were just happy to be on the receiving end. From your lips to cheeks, right down to your neck - he marked his love on you little by little.

"You... you're really beautiful..." Satan paused after he'd pulled your tshirt off. You blushed under his intense gaze as you pulled his green sweater off him and hugged him, hiding your face in his shoulder.

He groaned deliciously at the contact between your bare skins, bucking his groin into your hips almost involuntarily. Fingers hooking into your waistband, he pulled off your shorts next.

"S-Satan...need more ...please..." No his fingers wouldn't be enough. He was pleased really, he didn't know how long he could have held back anymore. He took off his pants and showed you exactly how much he wanted you.

"You're so ready for me, kitten... So good for me..." He whispered and kissed your cheeks as you screamed in pleasure at his thrusts.

You don't know how long it went on but you know you had the best sleep right after.

#obey me #obey me smut #obey me satan #obey me satan x reader

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acerathia · 1 year ago

Text

pink camellias || Chapter 1: hyacinth

Chapter Summary:

purple hyacinth: sorrow

Wordcount: 3.2k

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Pairing:

Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

Tags/CW:

royalty au, inspired by Mulan, war and its consequences, violence, childhood friends to strangers to companions to lovers (i am sorry), Angst, Acts of Service, Character Death (Major, and Minor), swordfights, misogyny, f!reader, kidnapping, implied torture, let me know if I missed anything lol

Note:

I got too impatient, so, I'm posting the first chapter today lol, still, i hope you enjoy reading it!

You opened the windows as soon as you woke up. As the soft sunlight warmed your skin, you watched the breeze rustle the flowers of the garden. Beyond that garden was a beautifully constructed posh house, barely blocking your view to the adjacent village. The rows of different houses gave the scenery a special kind of feel. The view was breathtaking, the bustling of all these people making you feel alive under your skin.

You stood by the window, trying to discern the lives of the common people below you in the valley. There was a small stripe of forest bordering the village and the mansion, which stood atop a hill.

“I wonder how life is down there”, you mumbled before looking back to your bed.

The softest of fabric was spread over the king-sized bed and you slowly stepped closer, your hand enjoying the feel of silk between your fingers. Then with a tiny jump you threw yourself onto the mattress, sinking deeply in its comfort and warmth.

With a sigh, you tried to imagine living in such a village. Maybe you would operate a bakery, making tasty bread and confects. You would wake up early, which you usually would never even think about, but this was only imaginary. If you were lucky, you could watch the sunrise for some time, while waiting for the dough to rise. Your hands would be kneading and caressing the dough into different, but nonetheless tasty goodies for the day, the lit oven warming your back with a gentle sigh. It would hug the soft dough and prepare it for the day.

After the bread and sweets would be ready, you would open up the shop, awaiting the first jingle of the door. You would, as usual, greet the oncoming customers, the ones you saw regularly with some deep questions, and the newer ones with some welcoming small talk. Your heart would beat in happiness every time something of yours would find its home somewhere else. And if everything got sold, you would close the shop and head to the market to replenish some of your necessities. If not, you would go around and give the bread to someone who would need it at the moment, not wanting to let anyone go hungry.

You imagined such a routine to be relaxing and enjoyable, especially connecting with so many people. The wish to go out and change something for yourself lit a spark, even if the possibility of leaving this place without guard would never happen.

Some day you would wake up with the hope of appearing in another place, like the characters in your stories. Landing inside a novel with the knowledge of every scenario, being actively a part of some grand scheme or an adventure. But no matter how long you kept your eyes closed, you stayed in your little bland life.

Sometimes you would dare to write down some ideas, with your scrawly font. And while doing so you blamed yourself for not listening to your teacher when learning how to write. But you wrote. You wrote every little idea that emerged in your little head. Huffing and puffing when the intricate dreams vanished after waking up.

With a low grumble, you stared at your ceiling. You grew weary of only imagining things and felt the urge, the desire to actually live your own adventure.

“My Lady, I’ve brought water to wash up”, the voice of your maid Hana sounded before she entered the room.

You furrowed your brows, wondering how long you had been lying there, and if you would succeed in sneaking out, if your maid wouldn’t be so punctual. But you only greeted her and rolled from the bed to walk towards a stool.

While you were washing your face, Hana brushed your hair gently and got rid of all the knots taking residence on top of your head. You looked into the mirror, feeling the soft towel on your skin.

This was your face, even if you wished you were another person. No matter what you think, the baby fat on your face would not dwindle until much later. For a moment you wondered how soon your birthday was.

“You should go to the dining room to eat some breakfast, my Lady.”, Hana told you, after helping you into a simple baby blue wrapper. Something simple for your indoor endeavors, as you did not plan on leaving this mansion any time soon.

With a nod you made your way to the dining room, greeting your father, who was leaning over some papers spread over the table.

“Good morning sweetie, did you sleep well?”, he asked while stretching his arms for a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Yes, thank you for asking, Father.”, you smiled with a slight crook, before turning to greet your mother the same way.

After the greetings, you took a seat and started eating your breakfast.

Despite the current silence at the table you were quite attached to your parents, as they were to you. They both were loving and warm and so doting on their only daughter. And who were you to resist getting spoiled like that? You would do anything for your parents, and even if you longed to go outside and experience new things, you were aware how your disappearance would break their hearts, and yours.

“Ah, we’re supposed to return to the palace today, did you prepare your luggage, or did you forget again?”, your mother started speaking with an amused smile after finishing the meal.

“Mother! Of course, I prepared everything! But, I’m still going to ensure that everything has its place.”, you hurriedly responded and jumped from your seat. Soft chuckle followed you out of the room.

How could you forget the return to the palace? Your father was the marquess and your mother attended to the queen herself. And despite your current young age, you wanted to make a good impression on the people living there, even if they may have already formed one around your person. But nothing speaks against working to better those impressions.

With the help of your maid, you threw everything you may need in that visit into a tiny case, fitting for your tiny stuff. And when Hana suggested you take your stuffed cat with you, you vehemently refused. Because what if someone saw it and thought of you as inferior? Especially little kids your age, they were usually the most vicious and you refused to be the victim of their bullying.

After making sure everything was in order, you let your maid help you into some outdoor gown with the same blue color as the other one. With a fitting pair of gloves and a bonnet, you were ready to leave your home for your stay at the palace.

Clutching Hana’s hand you made your way outside to the awaiting carriage. The coachman already heaving their luggage into its respective space. But you didn’t need his help to get into the carriage, not even Hana’s help. You grabbed some of the fabric of your dress and took the large step with one stride. The next step let you tumble into the insides of the carriage, where you immediately acted like everything went as planned.

Hana took the seat in front of you and the car slowly left the property. You knew that your parents were in the carriage in front of yours, so you did not fret and simply enjoyed the passing sights of the marquisate.

After a couple of minutes, someone slightly shook you and you blearily opened your eyes. You didn’t remember closing them in the first place. Did you already arrive at your destination? That was weird, you thought the way would take some hours. But beggars shouldn’t be choosers and you didn’t mind that very convenient time skip of sleep. Even if you now felt tired and grumpy.

With half-closed lids you let Hana lead you to the inside of the palace, where you already occupy a room. This wasn’t the first time your character visited the palace, but every time felt like it was. And no matter how much you wanted to look around, you felt drained and wanted nothing more than to continue your nap in peace.

The moment you stepped into the room, you threw yourself onto the bed, without care of your bonnet falling off your head. But for some reason you could not fall asleep again, making you whine into the soft pillows, before sitting up.

And before you could even plan anything for the afternoon, someone started knocking on your door.

“Hello! We were wondering if you wanted to play knights with us?”, a boy your age with bright green eyes, Izuchan, asked you with a smile, the moment you opened the door. Another was lingering with crossed arms and a slight scowl.

You turned to look at Hana, who just nodded with a sigh before you also nodded to the boys in front of you. “Yes! I’d love to participate in a game!”

With that, you followed them outside, where the sun shone upon your heads and warmed you slightly.

They immediately started clashing their wooden swords and began screaming something about ‘villains’ and ‘crime’. You wondered when it would be your turn, but you didn’t hold a wooden sword in your hands.

For some reason you felt the need to fix it, so you started wandering to the training camp of the real knights, looking for some kind of sword you might be able to use.

The only thing you discovered were of course actual knights in training. Their movements and the swing of the sword in their hands were mesmerizing and you could not help yourself but stare. Their flow seemed like a hidden dance, its steps only obtained by the truly worthy.

You felt trapped in watching the blades clash, eliciting bursts of tiny stars. A desire to wield this magic grew in you and a grin formed itself across your face. Now you fully understood the reason everyone admired knights. And you desired to be one.

You barely managed to rip your gaze from their dangerous dance only to see the object you were seeking only minutes ago. Without a second thought, you grabbed the wooden sword to return to the fighting boys. Only to see them running towards the training grounds, their gaze focused on something behind you.

And what were you supposed to do but follow them? So you ran with them towards a group of people converging around a massive person.

“Allmight!”, Izuchan gasped and started talking about the best knight in this whole kingdom and you couldn’t do anything but listen with rapt attention and interest.

Kacchan tried to get to the overrun knight, but before he had the possibility of reaching him, Allmight found the right timing to detach himself from the crowd and thus was missed when the boy finally broke through.

The blond started raging, concealing his disappointment in a fit of anger and screams. The other boy tried to calm him down, yelling ‘Kacchan’ to get his attention.

Undeterred by his outburst you gripped the wooden sword tighter in your hand and declared something to him, maybe you hoped to calm him down or to distract him from his missing hero.

“I am going to be a knight! One better than you!”, you declared war on these two young boys, who were supposed to be your friends, but your ambitions seemed to destroy any semblance of kinship.

“Hah? A girl can’t be a knight, are you stupid?”, Kacchan immediately replied, his anger only simmering, but directed at you nonetheless.

“You’re stupid!”

While you could have replied with a better comeback, annoyance made your brain empty, only the desire to show him filling you to the brim.

Without waiting for the next words of this brash boy, you turned and ran towards the toy dummy, which has been abandoned offside the actual training grounds. You didn’t care if your dress stained, the seams filling with mud, as you hit the dummy repeatedly, acting as if you were already a seasoned knight.

The two boys joined you soon after. And while the blond and you could not do anything but push each other into anger, you still played with your wooden swords, even if any of you would have dared to say that it has been a fight for life and death.

And if your maid clicked her tongue and reprimanded you for ruining your dress, you only responded with your dreams and hopes of becoming a knight. Out of necessity, your maid had, soon after that conversation full of sighs and aspirations, sewn you some proper clothing resembling the ones of a knight.

With your pants and shirt, you continued to fight your friends at every possibility, even if it meant getting stained in blue blood underneath your skin and ripped hair between your fingernails.

***

The seasons have passed and you still lived at the palace with your mother. You spent your daily life studying everything this place had to offer and everything your duty obliged you. But the moment you managed to free yourself some time, the people found you in a pair of pants, swinging that old wooden sword with your friends.

Finally, you had finished your reading for the day, getting some free time for your extracurricular activities. But before the teacher could properly dismiss you, your maid knocked and entered the room, a grave expression marring her face.

“Miss, I’m afraid, your mother is at death's door…”, she started speaking, but you jumped from your chair, grabbing the fabric of your dress to allow you to run as fast as you managed.

Your mother, your dear, loving mother, laid there, unmoving in her too-big bed. Her pale frame almost sunk into the soft fabric of the bedding and you were afraid. You were so afraid to step too close and to hurt her.

Still, you carefully sat at the end of the bed, taking her hand in yours, as soft as your rough hands cared to achieve. You only had eyes for her, everyone around you nothing but a blur. Nonetheless, you caught some pieces of information from the people hurrying around you in a senseless frenzy. The white plague. Your mother has been suffering under the act of consumption for longer than any of the people around her anticipated. Her paleness mistaken for lack of sun and worry. Her feverishly red cheeks and lips simply for a mistake in the chosen shade.

You wondered how long she had been plagued by this illness. How long had she been suffering without anyone taking notice? Had she already known prior to this?

Suddenly her lack of presence in your life in the last couple of months started to make sense. She knew you would have noticed her lack of energy immediately. How could you not? Your mother used to be the sun in any dark room. Her presence soothing and warm, even if bright. This woman in front of you was nothing but a pale, sick shadow of her old self. And it hurt you.

It hurt to see the most important person in your life suffer and on the brink of death. Oh, how you would do anything to soothe her aches and take her pains away.

Something cold dripped onto your hands, but you were not able to find the source of those tiny drops. Not until you took a shuddering gasp and a sob broke free, your lungs yearning to scream and cry.

Even if you grew weary and bored of your life, you cared for this woman, it drove you crazy. How were you supposed to move on after this?

People grabbed your sobbing shoulders, but you refused to let go of her frail hand. Someone was whispering empty words into you and you didn’t react with anything but a heartbreaking wail, lowering your head against her hand, pressing her cold skin against your cheeks.

Despite your vehement protest, someone managed to loosen your grip around your dead mother, leading you into your room. After getting pushed onto your own bed, everything became a blur.

You barely noticed getting moved around or getting into a carriage. The only thing you numbly remember was the regret of not telling your friends about your hasty departure. Even if you yourself had not known about it until you arrived back at the mansion you used to live at. You supposed this was your actual home, even if the palace felt more like it.

After your arrival at the mansion, you refused to eat and did not leave your room under any circumstance. At some point, your father's worry grew and he started trying to lure you with different things. Most of them got no reaction from you at all.

“Hello dear. How have you been?”, he asked with a soft voice, taking a seat at the end of the bed. You gave him a tired smile as an answer, your voice itching and scratching.

“Good, good.”, he nodded, taking your hand in his. “I know I have said it multiple times already, but you need to get out a bit… I know, I know. But she would not want you to suffer in such a dark room.” He tried to persuade you, already knowing your answer, even just with your nonverbal facial expressions.

“How about this: You still want to be a knight, don’t you? Well, then we shall get you some proper sword master to teach you. Can’t have you swing a wooden sword without instructions forever.”, and his suggestion made you perk up.

You still wanted to master swordsmanship, but your father had never supported that particular endeavor of yours. Until to this day, it appeared. Even if the circumstances should have been better, your mother should have been there to celebrate that milestone with you. Still, you knew she would have wanted you to run towards your dreams, even if she wasn’t there. You decided to dedicate this work of life to her before you agreed to your father's suggestion with a slight nod and a hesitant smile.

And your agreement seemed to spark some happiness in the eyes of your old man, as his smile gained that special depth. Without further words, because you simply didn’t need to, he pecked your forehead, before standing up. And if he pulled the curtains open and let you bask in the warmth of the estranged sun before he left your room, then so be it. Because this time, the sun didn’t symbolize another day without her, but a new opportunity dedicated to her, in remembrance of her. Starting with that day, you promised yourself to think of her every time you held a sword. Your dear beloved memories with her would lend you whatever strength you would have needed in any possible situation.

Your gaze wanders out of your window, into the beautiful garden. And you were mesmerized by the whipping flowers, almost like it was your first time seeing them. With this breathtaking, familiar view you held your promise close to your heart and planned on never letting go.

#bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x you

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