#after this the only other AU I have to offer is a Firefly AU | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sweetenerobert · 1 year

Text

MAKE HIM JEALOUS

softdom!joel miller x chubby male!reader

genre: dad’s friend au, no outbreak au, explicit, minors dni

summary: after finding out your boyfriend cheated on you, you wanted to get even with him how he broke your heart. joel noticing how much it makes you upset, he offers a helping hand.

warnings: strong language, break ups, age gap, (reader is 28, joel is 43) angsty beginning (body shaming, criticism, tw: mentions of wanting to harm yourself), recording, praise and degradation, unprotected P in A, creampies, positive affirmations, body positivity, calls you sunshine, and other pet names, mention of multiple creampies ;)

word count: 6.3k

a/n: possible the most smuttiest i’ve ever written, maybe might write more in the future.

IF THIS SUCKS, IM SORRY

a/n: divders by @firefly-graphics

YOU WANTED TO DIE.

Your boyfriend — now ex boyfriend, just admitted he’s been cheating on you the worst way possible.

He’d sent you videos — yes videos of someone, you didn’t know who it was, but they were sucking on your ex boyfriend’s dick. You could still hear the gagging sounds from that person.

That was only the first one, the second one it was the same thing, but you could hear your ex-boyfriend — Luke’s voice in the second.

“See this, Y/N? You could never treat me this well,” Luke panned the phone towards the person’s face as they were sucking his dick.

They were enjoying it, making you feel this worthless and low. Knowing that they are getting off to this made your stomach turn at the thought of something doing this for pleasure.

The third video was different; it was a view that you were usually on the receiving end for. Luke’s dick was prepared to go inside of someone else’s ass — unprotected. Your fist were balled, and your anger level spiked. You wanted to punch both Luke's and this person's stupid smug faces. You watch in anger as Luke slides his dick into someone else.

This person's moans are so loud you wanted to take your headphones out of your ears. Luke’s dick wasn’t the most impressive thing about his body, but when it did, it got the job done — for him, never for you. Luke tended to toot his own horn when it came to sex.

You never orgasmed about the seven months you both have been together and it was eventful when he swear to everyone he’s made his partners orgasmed in the past. It’s always made you feel weird when you never had one and all your friends always explain how good it feels, but never understood the feeling of that release.

In the fourth video, you felt conflicted, your emotions were all over the place, and you could explain it. You were mad, sad, confused, and all the sad emotions above. Luke was speeding up, and this person's moans were getting louder, thirstier, hungrier, they were filled with lust, and you could feel it.

You had to keep yourself from gagging and throwing up on your porch when you heard Luke’s groans as he picked this pace.

“So fucking tight . . . Luke moaned. “Y/N, he’s so much tighter than you.” He flipped the camera to show his sweaty face.

You wanted to break his nose in all directions — you wanted his nose to be off his face. You hated him, you hated who he was fucking, your anger was going to drive you to do something crazy if he’d sent you something like that.

He was praising them, LUKE. WAS. PRAISING. SOMEONE. ELSE.

Something that you loved hearing from him, it made you feel good to be with him. You felt like you weren’t going to be replaced with someone skinnier, perfect skin, perfect face.

Luke was just rubbing salt in the wound.

The fifth video made you want to cry your eyes out. You saw Luke’s face again, and it made you mad, it was until he started talking that your heart really shattered.

“Y’know, it’s sad that I have to do this, but — well, sad for you, not me.” Luke clenched his teeth. “I couldn’t stand to look at that disgusting body of yours anymore, all those folds, those stretch marks, they always turned me off, and I just couldn’t stand it anymore, so I got an upgrade, and he’s so fucking perfect. —”

He gritted his teeth again and closed his eyes shut — tightly and then opens them again.

“Who’s your daddy?” Luke asks.

“You are daddy! you are!” The person yelled. Luke had placed his phone in front of the person's face as they're taking his dick.

You didn’t even want to look at the last video, you assumed it was probably going to get worse as you kept staring at them.

That was twenty five minutes ago and you’ve been sitting on your porch of the house you share with your dad ever since, blasting your favorite band in your ears to drown out your own tears.

Your knees close to your chest and your arms on top as you rest your head on top of your arms. Your zip-up hoodie sleeves were catching your tears as you were crying.

You hated that a guy made you feel like this — a boy at that point. Luke wasn’t even a man. He was the embodiment of a hormonal teenage boy. And it pissed you off that a BOY made you feel this way.

If Luke was a man he would’ve just broken up with you, it still would’ve hurt but not as this bad.

It felt he stole your heart, stepped on it, burned it, smothered it, threw it in a volcano, and blew it up. This was something you never experienced but you couldn’t let this get you.

You wanted to wallow in self pity, but that’s not mature you had to figure something out. You couldn’t brainstorm right now, A much needed breather was required in this—

“Hey Y/N, you alright?”

You snapped your head up as you heard a muffled voice in your headphones. You look up and see your neighbor and your dad’s friend Joel Miller.

Your dad and Joel weren’t close — yet, they were getting there as your dad would say. You and him traded a few hello’s and waves to each other. You’ve seen him sometimes at work just sitting by himself as he orders a coffee.

You didn’t want to be a bitch but you wanted to be alone right now, but you don’t want your dad to call you in the moment so you had to answer Joel’s question.

You took your earbuds out your ear and opened your mouth to talk to Joel. “Uh, sorry I didn’t hear you,” You sniffed.

“Oh, I said are you alright? But I can see you ain’t,” Joel nodded.

Your immediate reaction was to look at your feet and hope he just walked away, but he didn’t. His towering form sat next to you in next to your phone.

“Do ya wanna talk about it?”

You shook your head, you really didn’t want anyone to see your pity party, but I guess that’s why you went outside. You were home alone and you didn’t want to be in that big old house and you just needed someone to talk to.

But the second someone’s concerned you just dismiss them.

“Are you sure? I- I mean i’m not the best when it comes to advise —”

“I just um, I got my heart broken,” You nodded.

It was the truth, not the full truth on why but he’d get the gist.

“Oh, well that tough. I’m sorry to hear about that,” Joel reassured.

You shook your head to dismiss his reassurance. “It’s nothing you could’ve done to prevent it — It was going to happen eventually.”

“But not you, you don’t deserve that,” Joel shook his head.

Joel helping you out of this funk you were in made it harder and harder to not tell or show him what broke your heart.

“Where’s your dad?”

“At work still — late shift he’d picked up.”

“You’ve just been alone dealin with this?”

You nodded slowly. “Only for about thirty minutes. I was fine before then.”

“Damn, that sucks.”

You nodded again. It had gotten silent for about ten seconds until Joel opened his mouth.

“Uh. . . If you don’t mind me asking, what did they do?”

There it was, the question you were dreading anyone to ask. You wanted to tell someone to get it out of you, but you were embarrassed by the things Luke brought up about you. Your insecurities being heard by another human seemed like a nightmare.

But you could tell Joel was more concerned than questioning. Taking a breath you pick up your phone from the concrete next you.

You notice that your music was still playing. Taking a breath you pause the music as your thumb hovers over the ‘Messages’ app logo.

This was your last chance to tell Joel that you weren’t comfortable with showing him just yet. Tell him that you’re phone died and just lie to him. But you didn’t take it.

Hitting the ‘Luke🦋🤍🫶’ contact and seeing the same videos that haunted you minutes ago.

Slowly scrolling up to the first video, you hand Joel your phone, he looks at you with confusion and you notice your phone is still connected to your earbuds.

“Oh, my headphones are still connected, here,” You hand Joel your headphones.

“Listen to whenever you’re comfortable, skim, skip a video, I don’t care just don’t disconnect those headphones please.” You pleaded.

He nodded, he put your headphones in and pressed play. You looked at your feet after you see him tap your screen.

You didn’t want to see his reactions but you could guess.

Disgust, anger, sadness, anguish, confusion, and upset.

Those were the emotions you were feeling earlier, having to see it or experience it again, you’d didn’t have the heart for it.

You could hear the gasps coming from his mouth. you wish you had ear muffs or ear plugs to not hear this right now.

You stole a glance at Joel after awhile and you notice that your phone and headphones are wrapped around his hands. And he’s looking straight ahead, just trying to grasp what he just saw.

“Why, when did you —”

“I was watching TV and I heard my phone going off and I ignored it, and then another, and another, and another, and I just got my phone and —” You shrugged “— I found myself out here and I’ve just been out here.”

Joel rubs his chin, rubbing his beard in annoyance. He understood your answer but wanted to be mad for you while you were sad.

Joel just took a breath but still looked annoyed, like royally pissed off.

“What are you gonna do?” Joel stole a glance at you.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“You just can’t sit around and nothin, I know you for a short time but, you’re not the type of person to sit around and do jack-squat.”

He was right, you were head strong and it was one of your redeeming qualities about you.

“I would love to get back at him, but how? It’s not like Henry Cavill’s dropping from the sky.”

“Henry who?” Joel questions.

“It doesn’t matter,” You dismissed.

“I know it’s sounds fucked up but I want him to hurt like he hurt me, I want him to feel pain, anger, anguish and sadness, I want him to crumble Joel,” You seethed.

Joel had to admit, hearing you sound like that turned him on a little, he loved that voice of yours. It was demanding and he loved it.

But he also hated that he couldn’t help —

Hold up, Joel realized he actually could. He was thinking with his head and not his dick this time.

Joel stood up, your phone still in his hand. You assume he was going to leave as you looked at your feet.

You were taken back when his hand was in your face to help you up.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to help you,” Joel offered.

Emotions: 2, You: 0

Taken aback again you were confused on what he was offering—

“OH, are you sure? You’re risking a lot.”

Joel knew you were right, a friendship with your dad would go down the drain before it even started.

“I’m sure,” Joel nodded.

The more you thought about it, what have you got to lose? Your dignity? That was already out the window.

You take his hand and he helps you up, you notice there was a little struggle as he picked you up. He probably tried to hide it the best he could. Holding your hand, you cross the street to get to his front door. Before you even step in, Joel stops and looks at you.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

You looked at him and then the door, then your hands intertwined together with Joel’s. And then your phone in his other hand and that just way that fuels your rage more.

“Let’s do this,” You nod.

Hand and hand together felt awkward as you walked through Joel’s living room, walked you up the stairs, and then let you inside his bedroom. You’ve never seen his house yet; he’s always coming over to hang with your dad on three occasions, twice on two separate Sundays to watch a football game, once to have dinner with your family, which he invited Sarah along with him.

His bedroom screamed ‘Saturday’s are to get drunk, Sunday’s are to regret it.’ It wasn’t messy or anything, his bed was only halfway made — like he just threw his blanket on top and expected it to fall perfectly in place.

His dresser had clothes peeking from the openings; his closet door was open. Either he slept with the closet door open or was too lazy to close the door.

You assumed that you would enter this room when Joel told you where to go, but you would be confused and enter Joel’s room — his safe space.

You were staring at yourself in the mirror connected to his dresser. You notice your eyes looked puffy and looked tired.

You hated how you looked and you just wanted to hide and ignore everything this whole day. Placing your hands on top of the dresser looking at yourself much closer.

Joel had closed his door and walked behind you, you feel his body pressed up against your back, his chin resting on his shoulder and his arms around your waist. Reflexively placing your hands on top of his.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking at myself in the mirror,” You answer.

“What do you see?” Joel asks.

“My eyes — they’re puffy and I hate how they look.”

“D’ya want to know what I see?” Joel questions.

You nod your head, looking down at your hands on top of Joel’s.

“I see someone who deserves the world, someone beautiful and amazing.”

You scoff.

“Are you staring at yourself?”

“Yes, but that was meant for you and that wasn’t a lie. I swear it,” Joel reassures.

You roll your eyes at his statement; it wasn’t that you didn’t hear him. You just didn’t believe him. Luke never complimented you after the three-month mark — the first time you two had sex with each other.

Hearing Joel say that didn’t hit your heart, it more likely bounced off. “I can tell your heart has been through hell hasn’t it?” You nodded, still looking down at your hands.

“Mmm, I wish I could repair it like I can with a house, but unfortunately, I can’t help you.”

“I know, but you helping me with this might repair a corner of it,” You smirk.

“If we do this —” Joel rubs his hands slowly and sensually all over your chest, while your hands are now laying on your side under Joel’s. “— I might not have the best relationship with your father anymore, considerin' I’m lyin' to him that I made love to his son.”

You nodded and then turned to stare at Joel’s face, he was smirking, and you smirked back at him.

Placing your lips on his and kissing, gaping his mouth open Joel and you were passionate enough that you already forgot about everyone else in the world.

It felt so good when you were kissing Joel that you had to turn you full body to wrap your arms around his neck, while Joel’s hands are on your lower back. Standing on your tiptoes to make sure the kiss with Joel is still connected.

Opening your mouth, Joel takes the opportunity to stick his tongue in your mouth, you gracefully take his tongue in your mouth and doing the same. It felt passionate and dirty at the time.

This was a favor that Joel was fulfilling for you, their wasn’t supposed to be a no-strings-attached situation, but you and Joel felt like you were both in the honeymoon phase.

The touching, the moaning, holding each other like they were the only two people in the world, it felt like a disaster when Joel broke the kiss.

Joel had your head in his hands as he looked at you with determination in his eyes.

“Turn around —” Breath “— I want you too see yourself how beautiful you are,” Joel breathed.

You turned around as you both notice you both are still in front of the mirror. Heavy breathing, mind blank, heart pumping.

His hands were on your shoulders as he slowly makes way for your zipper on your hoodie.

He slowly dragged it down as you were getting desperate to kiss him again.

As he’s dragging your zipper down he can tell you were getting desperate and chuckled.

“What’s wrong, Sunshine?”

His thick texan accent sending chills down your spine.

“I ugh, I just wanna kiss you again, and it’s crazy to say that.”

“Let me please you baby, you deserve it,” Joel reassured.

Your jacket is almost zipped off and Joel began kissing your neck, his beard tickling and sending chills on your neck. You’re no longer looking a the mirror as you shoot your head up and close your eyes and moan in pleasure.

The zipper finally disconnecting from the other side of your jacket. Joel stopped kissing your neck and slowly drifts your jacket off your shoulders, watching it fall off your arms.

“Turn around and kiss me, Sunshine.”

You followed his command and smashed your lips on his, wrapping your arms around his neck again. His hands on your lower back was now cupping your ass.

It was like he wasn’t giving enough of it, he just wanted to play with it like putty.

Taking off his trucker jacket, his big biceps wrapping around your back. Your body melts onto his as you tangle your hands in his hair. Joel’s kisses had gotten more intense and filthy like he was ravenous. He didn’t want to let you go or forget about this at all.

To Joel he was fulfilling a dream, to you this must have a been a mission you didn’t want to end.

Joel was walking and you were walking backwards being careful to not break the kiss, your hands had a mind of their own as you were touching his face, his beard, his hair, you wanted to explore Joel Miller and you wouldn’t go home until you explored every nook and cranny of him.

Your calves hitting the bed frame made you stop as you didn’t want to break this electrifying kiss, but with Joel, he keeps walking and you break the kiss and end up sitting on the foot of his bed.

Looking up at Joel he had a sly smirk on his face as you look down and realize that your face to face with his bulge near your face.

“I have a feelin’, you suck cock good baby,” Joel smirked rubbing his bulge outside his jeans.

“You want to test that theory?”

You place your hand onto Joel’s bulge and you immediately feel it throbbing. His hard cock being constrained by his boxers must be hurting.

Undoing his pants, unzipping his zipper, you can see his cock throb right in front of you, pointing right at you. “Damn, my cock was hurting so much in those jeans,” Joel licks his lips.

Taking your hands and pulling down his boxers, his dick springs out and almost hits the tip of your nose. You look in shock and satisfaction. This has to be the biggest dick you’ve ever seen. Even Luke can’t compare to Joel’s monster cock.

“Get to suckin’ baby.”

You wrap your lips around the tip of his dick as you start sucking. He brings his head back and moans with pleasure as you take his cock in your mouth.

You start going back and forth as your sucking Joel’s thick cock. He’s in heaven as your basically worshiping his cock, he’s never felt this euphoric before and he didn’t want to let this feeling go, he wanted to live in it forever.

“You’re such a good boy, your ex is a dumbass,” Joel smirks.

Luke wouldn’t even praise you if you did this, he would just be silent, and it would be weird. You just wanted to either be praised or degraded, and Luke knew that, so the silence indicated that he was never into it in any way shape, or form.

You take Joel’s cock from your mouth, and with your hands, you stroke it. It’s big inside and length; you can’t help but smile looking at Joel.

“You’re so fucking big, so much better than Luke,” You smirk.

“He can’t compare, Sunshine?” Joel asks.

“No, he can’t, Joel.”

You take his cock back in your mouth, and he hangs his head back; he places his hands on his forehead and moans in pleasure.

He then takes his hands and holds your head in his hand.

“You’re so beautiful, baby boy,” Joel exclaimed.

His hand is still on your face as you shove his cock down your throat. Inhaling his musky scent and hearing him moan loudly, the neighbors could possibly hear him. Take your mouth away from his cock, and a long line of spit comes with it, and you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

Joel leans down to kiss you as he cups your face. He was more passionate and loving this time than his hungrier state. He backs away in a few deep breaths you both share.

“Joel?”

“Yeah, Sunshine?”

“Do you still have my phone?”

Joel snaps out of his hormonal thoughts and bends down to grab your phone from the jean pocket you discarded earlier.

“Unlock it, Honey,” Joel exclaimed, handing you your phone.

You did what he commanded and opened the camera app. Making sure it was on ‘Selfie mode’ and handed the phone back to him.

“Is there anything specific you want me to do, Sunshine?” Joel asks.

“Whatever rolls off your tongue is fine with me, your cock seems to be missing my tongue,” You commented.

“Then get back to suckin’ pretty boy,” Joel smirks.

You place your lips around his tip and your tongue makes its way around Joel’s slit, you taste the precum coming out of it and Joel can feel you, he was back in heaven again and he didn’t want to leave anytime soon. Taking his whole length in your mouth, Joel’s eyes almost pop out of his head.

Bringing his knuckle to his mouth trying to stifle his moans.

“Oh, baby. I don’t even want to record you. That asshole doesn’t deserve you.”

“Focus, Joel.” You smiled

Joel basically huffs a breath trying to contain his moans as you're sucking his cock.

"Hey, Luke? Was it? Anyway, you're probably wondering who this is, well, this is someone who can treat Y/N better, mentally, physically, and sexually of course. I mean, look at him go," Joel smiles, flipping the camera towards you.

At that moment, you knew how to make Luke's heart feel like yours did previously.

You start sucking on Joel's balls, Luke always begged you to suck his, but you could never do it. You knew this would piss him off, and you were happy. Sucking on Joel's balls, you couldn't help but smile.

Joel's dick covered your face, but he could still see your shit-eating grin in the camera.

Joel flips the camera to look back at him. "You see that? He's already forgotten about you and gotten with someone better." Joel smiles and stops recording.

As you attempt to suck on Joel's cock again, he picks you up, and he kisses your lips again, tossing your phone on the bed behind you; Joel's arms wrap around your lower back. Your hands somehow find their way back down to his cock, and you can't help but stroke it.

As you both are kissing, Joel moans in your mouth. As you quickened stroking his cock, his moans became faster and labored; it was hot, and you couldn't get enough of it.

"Sunshine, I have to worship you like you've been with my cock," Joel hisses. "Please, lemme worship you, baby."

"How?" You ask, confused.

"Take your clothes off, and lemme worship that amazing body of yours," Joel hissed again.

You start to slide out of your shoes, then your sweatpants and underwear -- your cock springs free, then your shirt which you were hesitant about before you took it off.

Luke always made some sort of comment about your body. He hated your stretch marks and always compared you to skinner people; it always made you so self-conscious about yourself.

"Look at how beautiful you look," Joel exclaimed.

"You don't have to lie to me Joel," You shake your head.

He cups your face again so you're looking at him. "I'm a lot of things, Y/N but a bullshitter; I'm nothing like that.

You can't help but feel as if your heart is slowly being repaired as you kiss Joel's plump lips again. To you, those lips were like candy and you had a sweet tooth,

"Can I — kiss "—please—" kiss "— worship you now?" Joel asks.

"Yeah," You answer.

You turn around and crawl onto Joel's bed, he slaps your ass as your crawl on his bed. As you place your head onto one of his pillows, you see him take his boots and pants off his around his ankles. He crawls after you until your noses basically and he's kissing you again.

Your cocks are rubbing onto one another as Joel's grinding into you. Your body wanted to explode as he was this passionate. You were touch starved and begging to be touched again and Joel answered your pleading.

Joel’s kisses traveled down towards your chin and then down your shoulders — where your stretch marks resided.

“Your body is so fucking perfect, Sunshine,” Joel complimented.

His tongue was trailing up and down your stretch marks. His tongue felt like heaven on your bare skin, sucking your teeth in amazement as your whole body floated away. You wanted to stay in this moment for a long time -- practically begging Joel to keep his tongue all over your body.

Joel's kisses trail down to your chest -- onto your nipples as he sucks on them; you moan in enjoyment. You were in a euphoric state of mind like you never were before.

Joel's hands kept traveling all over your body, your arms, thighs, and nipples; you loved where his hands traveled. He couldn't get enough of you and he didn't want to stop.

He loved that in this vulnerable moment, you trusted him with your body, to help you reach places that you haven't reached before.

Shutting your eyes while your moans travel all over Joel's bedroom as he kisses down your stomach to your aching, throbbing cock.

Your eyes shoot open as Joel's mouth wraps around your cock. You arch your back in amazement as Joel's mouth feels astonishing.

Luke never treated you this well, and for someone like Joel, who you weren't as close to, knew where to make your body tingle without even telling him.

Joel's mouth kept up and down and your body felt like you were overstimulating and you were about to explode . . . until Joel stopped sucking your cock and then started to eat you out.

You were gripping his sheets until your knuckles were turning bone white; your moans were actually bouncing off of Joel's bedroom walls at this point. You were trying to keep still to enjoy every second of Joel's talented mouth.

Joel's beard felt soft and coarse at the same time, you couldn’t get enough of this feeling Joel was giving you and you didn’t want it to end anytime soon.

“Mhmm, Sunshine, you taste so fuckin’ good,” Joel muffled.

“Joel, you talking makes it feel even better, your so good at that.”

“Your boyfriend never treat you this well, huh?”

“Nope, not the slightest bit.”

Joel grabs your phone once again.

“Password,” Joel commanded.

“Zero-Two-One-Three,” You answered breathlessly.

Joel entered your password on your phone and open the camera app and started recording himself; He started eating you out again and you couldn’t help but moan out loud again.

“Mmmm, Luke, your ex, tastes so fuckin' good, you hear that?” Joel asks before eating you out again.

You didn’t want to have Luke hear your moans, but you couldn’t help it, it felt so fucking amazing, and your moans kept going up and down.

“Luke, have you ever fingered his hole before? Someone like you would not know how to please a person.”

“My tongue is working wonders that your sad dick could, am I right, Sunshine?” Joel asks.

“You feel so good, Joel. I love it so much. Can you do it again, please?”

“Anything for my sunshine,” Joel smirks.

“Luke, I’ll see you later. Gotta get back to pleasin' your ex,” Joel winks at the camera before ending the recording.

Joel grabs your thighs, and your legs stay in place as he eats you out.

He ate you out as if you were going to run away from him, this felt to him, and this felt too good for you.

You wanted to know what his cock felt inside you, so you had to ask; even though this experience would end, you feel a different one.

“C-can you put your cock inside me?”

“You sure, Sunshine?” Joel asked.

“Please, Joel,” You plead.

Joel rushes up to your face and with an open mouth kiss he slides his tongue in your mouth at the same time opening his nightstand drawer and reaching for a condom.

But feeling that the condom box is empty he breaks the kiss and looks towards his nightstand. You curiosity gets the best of you and you look to where Joel’s eyes trailed to.

“What’s wrong?” You ask.

“I don’t have anymore condoms, Sunshine. I really hoped that I could —”

“It’s fine,” You reassured.

“Are you sure, I don’t want to do anything unless you’re comfortable with it,” Joel states.

“No, it’s okay. I promise, Joel would hate that someone else has been inside me — especially raw,” You smirk. Joel smirks back at you and with his outstretched hand,, holds your head so he can kiss you.

As Joel’s kissing you he starts to grind into you, which you start moaning into Joel’s mouth.

He starts to go faster as he’s teasing you, your moans become more and more intense, you love his cock rubbing against yours — it felt almost as intoxicating as when he was licking your skin.

“Sunshine, I’m going to put it in now, okay,” Joel starts.

You nod in acceptance.

Joel lifts your legs up and with a deep breath you mentally prepare for his cock near your entrance. You were nervous to say the least, you could barely deep throat Joel’s length you were nervous on what his cock would to you. Well for one you were —

“OH, JOEL, GOD DAMN!” You exclaimed.

Joel had his dick inside you and the pain quickly turned into pleasure. He leaned down and kissed you to calm you down. His face inches away from yours.

“Is this okay?” Joel asks.

Your hole was aching in pleasure, as you nodded your head at Joel, he rolled his hips into you and you couldn’t help but moan in pleasure.

Joel stood up to take his shirt off ass he keeps his hard cock inside you.

Joel was starting to pick up his pace as he keeps fucking you. You both were on cloud nine as this euphoria moment skyrocketed. Joel was doing something he’s always had dreams, fantasies, about.

He knew it was filthy to think about bending you over and making love to you but he didn’t care because in this moment he was fulfilling a wish he’s been begging for.

“You like this boy?” Joel southern accent making your body send shivers up your spine.

“Mm- fuck, I love it — so fucking big.”

Joel was hitting places you didn’t even know existed in your body, in the moment you didn’t feel the emotions you were feeling moments ago.

Overstimulation, passion, pleasure, overdrive, euphoria, you were feeling all of these and you didn’t want his stop. Joel was treating you like you’ve always wanted to be treated — loved.

“You gonna stroke that pretty cock for me, Sunshine? I wanna see you cum from my dick pounding inside you,” Joel growled looking into your eyes.

Joel adjusted himself to stand up straight — but still pumping his cock into you. You started to stroke your hard, aching, throbbing cock.

As you were stroking yourself, Joel grabs your phone, entering the password and started recording you both.

“Hey Luke, is it? I don’t know — hard thrust — moan from you “— you hear that, me fucking your perfect boyfriend. I’m so fuckin’ glad I can finally fuck this tight hole. Sunshine, you close yet, baby?”

Joel flips the camera to show you. “Almost, but I want you to cum inside me when your close, alright, Luke! You wish you could cum inside me, huh? Cum inside the whore you screwed!”

Joel flips the camera to show his sweaty face. “Well, I can’t ignore what my baby says, so I’ll get back to you.” Joel stops recording on your phone. Throwing your phone next to him, he places his hands on the pillows below your head as he fucks you rough.

Joel’s knuckles were going to jump out of his hands from how hard he was gripping his sheets. You couldn’t help but moan with every single thrust Joel was pumping into you.

This is what heaven felt like and you didn’t want to leave anytime soon.

“Cum for me baby, I want you to feel good.” Joel growled .

“Augh! — Ama-ing, —oel, fuck- amazing!”

It sounded like broken english to you but to Joel, he knew what you were trying say.

“Fuckin’ perfect, baby!” Joel exclaimed.

Joel’s hands were trailing down your body as he was still pumping his hard cock inside you. His hands found your thighs as he holds them.

You could feel yourself getting closer with every stroke — and Joel’s thrusts. Your first ever orgasm was coming and you were nervous and excited at the same time. A long awaited moment coming in an instant.

“Joel, I’m gonna cum,” You warned.

“Cum, for me, baby,” Joel whispered as he got closer to your face.

You were counting down in your head, trying to perfectly count the time your orgasm was going to occur.

“Five,” You thought.

You could feel your body start to shake a bit.

“Four.”

Your body wanted to stop but your hands wasn’t stopping one bit.

“Three.”

“Baby, I’m close to,” Joel stated.

He kissed you as a wave of ecstasy almost leaves your body.

“Two,”

Joel clenched his teeth to hold the explosion in as much as he can.

“One!”

Your cum shot out from your cock as you could feel Joel’s cum shooting inside you, your cum litters all over your stomach as some of it hits Joel’s as well.

Joel’s body shook as he stopped pumping his load inside you. You both were gasping for air in this steamy moment. You fulfilled each other’s requests: You wanted your ex to feel hurt as you did, and Joel finally got to fuck you as hard as he wanted.

“You okay, Sunshine?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.”

Joel smiles and kisses your lips tenderly and softly. You moan into the kiss as you could feel Joel’s cock still throbbing.

☼ ☼ ☼

You had sent the three videos of you and Joel having sex to Luke. That was forty-five minutes ago.

You were still in Joel’s bedroom taking his cock again for the fourth time his cum was inside you. Joel had given you four creampies in the past forty-five minutes, and given you three orgasm’s. Your face was in his sheets gripping them as your ass was hanging over the edge of his bed.

Joel was fucking you as if his life depended it, he didn’t want this afternoon/night to end anytime soon. “Joel, we should stop, this is amazing but, we should stop,” You whined in pleasure.

“This last time, after this I promise, I’ll stop,” Joel groaned in between thrusts.

“You said that, the last four times,” You countered.

“I swear, this will the last time.”

Joel had closed his eyes in determination to cum for the fifth time tonight, he’s never had the experience like this one and he didn’t want to stop anytime soon.

The cum that dried all over your thighs, butt cheeks were a way to know that you were fucked rough by Joel Miller and he loved the idea of that.

“I’m gonna cum again,” Joel states before exploding his cum inside you. You pick yourself up and have your sweaty back on Joel’s sweaty chest, his arm wrap around your neck as he kisses you sweetly. You breathe into each other’s mouths as you both are kissing each other.

That’s when Joel starts to roll his hips back and forth inside you again. “One more time, I promise,” Joel breathes into your neck.

Still holding you with his arm in the position with your back clasping his chest you can’t help but whine.

“Fuuuuuck, Joel, god! Someone help me from this crazy animal!” You exclaimed.

530 notes · View notes

itsonlydana · 7 months

Text

"passenger princess" | chapter four

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 3,3k

❱ summary: a ride home

❱ warnings: none

❱ an: could he be any more perfect? y'all, tell me if you have some guesses how this will go on🤭

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER FOUR: STARS

"Come on, I'll give you a ride."

You whirled around to Thranduil, ready to argue that it was far too late considering he had to work the next morning. You'd imposed on him too much already, the kitchen was in a state that would need a deep cleaning and the boys would certainly sleep in.

"You don't have to," you tried as he passed you and grabbed his coat from the counter. "In fact, you shouldn't–"

Pushing his arms through the coat, Thranduil flipped the collar up and sorted his long hair over his shoulder. He seemed unbothered by your protests and continued to slip into his boots. "I forgot something at work that can't wait anyway, so grab your shoes."

Pursing your lips but swallowing the pouty reply you wanted to throw at him for ordering you around, you slipped into your sneakers, glaring at him while hugging Legolas and Gimli, and then Aragorn Goodbye.

Gimli even dared to wink at you, shoving his elbow into your side with a rumbled: "Fun ride"

Naturally, you punched his arm for that.

Your bag shouldered and the phone that continued to light up with messages shoved deep into it, you followed Thranduil out into the surprisingly cold night.

The gravel path leading to the, well, almost mansion, crunched under your footsteps, filling the silence that you yourself didn't know how to break.

Your last conversation didn't offer much transition to normal small talk, and you didn't want it to.

You wanted to be wrapped up in the warm flirt in his voice, in that heated look that he had thrown you as you'd left him in the hallway.

The nerves of the skin he'd touched still fizzled and ached for him to return his hands onto you, an itch that only he could scratch, a burn for him to sooth.

That though, was most definitely not what you would say right now.

But you didn't want to spend the rest of the way in awkward silence, so you resorted to the manners Thranduil valued. Not only because he worked as a lawyer with a very important –rich, conceited, snobbish– clientele, but because he still held onto the hope that some manners would rub off on Legolas.

"Thank you for offering to drive me." You bit your bottom lip through a smile that has him cracking one as well, soft lips breaking up the stern expression his dark eyebrows sometimes gave him.

"Don't," Thranduil shook his head, the movement sending some of the shorter strands framing his face back over his shoulder, "knowing you're home safe gives me a peace of mind. I wouldn't have been able to sleep if you were waiting on some bus right now."

"Well," your cheeks grew hot, "thank you anyway"

Turning to the road you watched your shadows move in sync, the lights of the house falling through the trees lining the way and flittering on the gravel like scattered fireflies.

You saw how his shadow stepped closer, your hands dangling close enough that one small movement would've led to them brushing against each other. The space was small, easily crossed yet it stayed that way for the rest of the walk.

It wasn't the time.

Not right now; nevertheless how fucking close you had been to kissing him in the hallway.

Arriving at his car, he opened the door of the passenger side, your place, as Legolas had once joked.

He had a point because after Thranduil had first picked you up from the bar, he'd come to your rescue many times, and he helped you to the passenger side first each time, as if he wouldn't allow anything else.

You didn't complain.

Sitting next to him allowed you a perfect view of those sharp cheekbones and cutting jawline that your hands itched to cup and draw your fingers along of. Not only that but whenever the whole group was being driven around, you could enjoy the drive without a shoulder nudging yours or a hand reaching over to open a window.

As you sat down, you took notice of the seat setting, namely how it was perfectly adjusted to you.

If Legolas had ever ridden with his father, you always had to pull forward, because Legolas, in addition to his looks, did, of course, inherited Thranduil's incredibly long and enviable legs to tower over everyone else. A gift he constantly misused to kick you, or to rest his arm on your shoulder.

Once seated in the car, you pressed deeper into the fabric of the seat. Even the headrest was perfectly at your height, so you didn't have to do more than place your bag in the foot well.

As Thranduil's door swung open a gust of chilly air rushed into the already cold car, prompting you to roll your shoulders and hug your torso.

Apart from your shirt, you hadn't brought a jacket, considering it had been warm earlier when you stashed your backpack in the dorm after class.

Thranduil folded himself into his seat, his long legs first, and shamelessly you stared at him as he elegantly lowered himself and tossed his hair over his shoulders before pulling the door shut.

Another flood of cold air.

This time Thranduil noticed how your arms wrapped tighter around yourself and without saying much, he turned slightly and reached behind his seat.

"Here," in the silence of his car, his voice sounded even deeper and the warmth in it was almost enough for you when he'd already put something in your lap. "And don't you dare tell me it's not necessary. Not giving you a choice!" he ordered, a teasing smile taking out all the sterness of his tone.

"Thank you," you breathed, unfolding a navy blue sweater, one that had a white deer stitched over the breastbone, and as soon as you pulled it over your head, the world flimmered at its edges, reducing to just the inside of this car.

"It's not washed, but I promise you it's clean."

Which you couldn't care less about, not even a flying fuck was given toward this precious item of clothing that rocked your world and completely spun it out of its axis.

This was his sweater, his clothing that he gave up for you. This happened in dreams, in books and stories and wishes and hopes– not in the real life.

Maybe this was another thing that separated Thranduil from those Fratboys and overmasculine guys that thought the most romantic thing they could do was pop a mint-gum before smashing their mouths onto yours in slobby kisses.

He has years of experience against their lousy teenager moments.

The sweater smelled so much like him and his house, only much stronger. His scent, rich, full of his perfume and him, took over all your senses. The fabric was so damn soft, so warm, so cozy; you were ready to sink into it and never leave.

Literally, because even sitting down, the waistband bunched up in your lap and you would have had to push the sleeves back, but you made yourself comfortable in the way too big sweater.

Thranduil –most likely unintentionally but who knew– seemed to have decided on torturing you in the cruelest way possible, and maneuvred the car one heel of the palm on the steering wheel, and the other conveniently placed behind your headrest, his head angled so that he could watch through the back window instead of the mirror.

That position, arm outstretched, muscles subtly flexing and his prominent jawline close enough that it could cut your held breath in two, did unexplainable things to you.

If anyone asked you would deny that this movement alone had you blushing and your stomach curling, heat rushing through your body over something so simply yet breathtakingly beautiful and assertive.

He caught your gaze quicker than you could have fixed the blown-wide look on your face, the corners of his mouth twitching.

So he did know.

You laughed softly, "Show off."

His grin became sly. "No idea what you're talking about," he murmured, low and deep and very much a lie.

"Besides, there could've been something behind the car, who knows," he said nonchalantly as he steered the car toward the front gate, the black, tall halves that opened for you at the push of a button.

My ass, something behind the car, you thought and coughed to cover up a laugh.

The mansion grew smaller in the rearview mirror, hedges and tall trees framing the white brick facade and gray shingles until the last of the lit up windows was nothing more than a small dot that disappeared after blinking.

There was something special about driving around at night. The lots in the area where Legolas and Thranduil lived were large, as were the houses and the distance between them, and unlike the city, you were the only ones on the streets.

The night was dark, the sky black, like ink and endlessly stained with countless stars that you couldn't see from your dorm room due to the many skyscrapers and their ever-shining lights. At your place, it was loud and bright, and you leaned back in your seat to watch the sky through the window in front of you.

There was no one else on the road, not this time of night, not in a neighborhood where most didn't even need to work much: no headlights, no cars, no one else but Thranduil and you.

Where that awareness would've brought a subtle panic and anxiety with it a while ago, there was tranquility instead.

All worries about the crush you harbored for Thranduil and how he could find out were replaced, softened up by the memory of his hands on your body, that damn painting burying itself into your back and the sharp edges reminding you that this had been very much real.

This was very much real.

"You're thinking very loudly."

You turned your head, furrowing your brows at Thranduil, "Am not."

He scoffed. "No, darling, you most definitely are. I have never met anyone who is that bad at keeping a straight face." Thranduil switched the lanes, this time checking the mirror and meeting your gaze in it, "Next time we play poker, please remind me to bet on your cards."

Huffing and rolling your eyes you did what any other adult in your position would do, and stuck your tongue out at him. "Maybe I won't play poker with you anymore, how 'bout that?"

"What's your other option? Legolas is good but honestly- the boy would throw his cards away for Aragorn," Thranduil mused and when you laughed he raised his thick eyebrows once, "It's me or Gimli, sweetheart."

You didn't even need to think back to the last poker game you'd played with Gimli, that was too far away and this evening's endless round of Monopoly sufficed generous arguments against him as well. Why you've ever thought it was a great idea to play any competitive game against the most thick-headed people was a mystery on its own.

Another shudder ran through you then, but not because of the cold– the sweater provided so much warmth and your cheeks burned from smiling so much, but rather because your mind did in fact remind you of the faithful poker night. The most chaotic one in the history of poker games.

"Oh," you exhaled a deep breath.

Thranduil's head turned and you made a point of looking thoroughly distressed.

"I don't think I'll ever recover from the awful talk I had with Professor Gandalf." Your whole body shudders just like then, transporting you back to the awkward shuffling around, the stuttering and the many, many, many excuses you'd babbled.

"It couldn't have been that bad," Thranduil said and then, tilting his head as you slowly shook your head, he added an unsure: "Right?"

"Thranduil," you stared at him, barely noticing how the corner of his eyes crinkled at his name out of your mouth, "Thranduil– I was piss-drunk and sent my 70.. or hell, 80-something Professor an E-Mail…at three in the morning. With just a winky smiley!" Your voice had taken on a desperate edge at the end, cutting it close to such a high pitch that you fell breathless into the seat.

All the while Thranduils laughter grew and grew until he gasped for air, his one hand swatting dramatically in front of him. "Mhm.. oh yes, I'll never get tired of hearing it," he giggled, a sound that did not fit the first impression most people got of him.

"Yeah you can laugh all you want," you tried to come across as stern though failed miserably at the sight and sound of Thranduil chuckling. He made it impossible to do anything else but smile. "Jeez, thank god the old man found it funny as well. I think I would've died if I'd sent it to Professor Sauron instead. He hates me."

Thranduil opened his mouth, then closed it again.

A bit quieter than you expected he started again after a while: "This may be delusional since my line of work shows me the worst of people, sides you wouldn't think exist, but I think that you are the loveliest woman I've ever met. That Professor must be out of his mind to hate someone as clever, beautiful, and magnificent as you."

Those words, coming out of his mouth shot you straight into the heart, hollowing out that pit in your stomach and filling it endlessly with messy butterflies and fireworks in such an overtaking force you couldn't find it in you to answer.

You knew he liked you, or at least appreciated your presence.

You had felt it earlier, had seen in his eyes that he was interested and oh– that this picture-perfect specimen of a man would look at you like that was more than you could want.

It had been such a far-fetched wish that there would be anything else except this lust that hearing him compliment you, raising you to a pedestal you never dared to dream about, was astounding and unfathomable.

Thankfully, Thranduil put you out of the misery of searching for something equally important to retort.

He reached over to rest his hand on your thigh, calming the slight bouncing you'd fallen into. "I know it's nothing like Legolas poetic words."

The heavy air that had taken hold of you lifted as you let out a breathy laugh. "He's an idiot. Took after you, am I right?" you teased and slightly flicked a finger against the soft skin of his hand.

You didn't know what led to that sudden contact, one he mostly initiated wherelse you didn't dare to act upon more than friendly handshakes or brushing his fingers while passing the butter or salatbowl.

He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly, "When they grew him in the lab I made sure to tell them to crank the dumbass level high enough as to not let an identical version of myself get loose on the world."

You pretended to frown, sizing him up and down, "Surely they should have added less then."

The disgruntled snort coincided precisely with a playful tap against your thigh, a swift movement you couldn't have defended against. The moment his hand made contact with the outer part of your leg, you heard the smack, felt the entirely harmless and certainly not painful pull, and your jaw dropped as you stared at Thranduil.

"You didn't just do that!"

"What?" Thranduil blinked innocently at you.

"Ohh, how dare you pull off the eyebrow thing."

"What eyebrow thing?"

"You know," you raised a hand and gestured towards his entire face, which now turned back to the street with a far too sly grin. "That thing you do. You raise those thick eyebrows and open your eyes wider like you're patronizing me and act all virtuous at the same time."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," he said and did exactly what you'd just explained.

You simply glared at him and flicked his thigh as well.

The car turned, departing from the serene country road to navigate through the sparse traffic of the city streets.

Instead of stars, blinkers and billboards now raced past the window, casting their bright lights on you and immersing you in a cascade of brightness that prompted you to blink a few times.

Previously, where it had been just you, Thranduil, and the hum of the engine, you hadn't realized how comforting those few sounds were. As Thranduil drove along the main street, more focused and enveloped in the watercolor hues of the city, you almost asked him to turn around again.

A yawn overtook you just as you wanted to reply to his compliment from before, feeling slightly dazed by the atmosphere, cutting you off just as you said his name.

"Oh god," you mumbled and checked the display for the time, "How can it be two already?" Unconsciously you cuddled the sweater, burring your nose in the seam while fighting another yawn.

Thranduil turned his head and a soft smile played his lips. "Nearly there, sweetheart. When do you have to be up again?"

You groaned, rubbing a hand over your eyes, "Eight? I think… maybe eight thirty if I skip breakfast and rush straight to uni." He tilted his head and you shrugged, "Eight fifteen and a small breakfast?"

Satisfied he nodded. "Better."

It was such a small thing that he cared about, though the heat rushed into your cheeks all the same.

He parked the car right in front of the dorm complex and after peeling yourself out of the comfortable warmth he led you to the main entrance.

Not wanting this night to end, you took your time searching inside your purse for the keys, fumbling around and pushing some mints and loose papers back and forth until you couldn't drag it out any longer, and then some more finding the right one.

Thranduil waited patiently, leaning against the brick wall, the headlights of cars washing his ivory skin silver.

"So," you said as you couldn't drag the goodbye out any longer.

"So," he repeated.

Standing together in the small alcove of the entrance felt more confined with the tension between you, drawing you closer to him.

Tilting your chin towards the ground, you looked up at him through half-closed, weary lids. "Thank you again. For driving... and thank you for what you said. It.. that whole speech, y'know? That means a lot to hear it and like especially from you."

Thranduil smiled. "Anything for you," he whispered.

Then, he withdrew his hand from his coat pocket. Your eyes followed as he approached your face, his fingertips gliding over your temple, following the curve of your eyebrow until he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and cupped the back of your neck.

Yielding to the gentle pressure, you let yourself fall into the embrace he pulled you into. His coat cascaded down your sides, brushing against your knees pressed against his, and as he rested his chin on your head, you couldn't help but sigh contentedly.

Even though you stood there, fully clothed in street attire and the entrance of your home, it was as close as you could imagine to falling asleep with him. And you nearly did.

"Goodnight, darling." His words were nothing more than a whisper, rough and muttered into your hairline, but you still beamed, your face pressed against his chest.

"Goodnight, Thranduil."

"Oh, wait–" you stepped back, realizing your still wearing that sweater, hands already on the hem, "here"

Large hands covered yours before you get to pull it off, stopping you with a gently push.

"Keep it. You wear it better than me."

He paused, breathing in and out as if to assure himself that whatever he thought was what he wanted to say. "Keep you thinking of me while you get some sleep."

You're nothing but a blushing mess as you quickly hurried up the staircase to find your roommate on the stairs, typing on her phone and sparing you one lousy "Thanks" that you ignore to rush into the silent apartment.

You didn't even turn on the light in your room but went straight to your window, facing the street. What usually bothered you turned out to be incredibly practical because you could wave to Thranduil one last time.

As always, he had been waiting next to his car, his gaze directed up to your window, and only when he saw you behind the glass did he get in.

However, he didn't continue straight to his firm; his car turned on the street, taking the same direction you came from. Towards his home.

taglist [still open]: @mushroomemeralds @mssuguru , @solartoge @12134z03 @fruitymoonbeams-blog @finallyforgotten @lady-of-imladris @123forgottherest

#📁files: passenger princess #thranduil x reader #lotr x reader #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x you #lord of the rings fanfiction #lord of the rings x reader #lotr fanfiction #Thranduil #modern au

166 notes · View notes

navybrat817 · 2 years

Text

A New Tradition

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky doesn't have any holiday traditions, but maybe he can start something new with you. Word Count: Over 2.5k Warnings: Slight angst, mention of trauma, pining, falling in love, slight feels (it's me), canon divergent, Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?). Future fluff and smut for this couple. A/N: This idea hit me and it wouldn't let go until I wrote it down. Set in the same AU as lumberjack!Steve, I hope to share more when I can. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Banner and moodboard by yours truly. Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky stared at the ceiling from the floor as he tried to fall asleep. Evergreen and spice lingered in his nostrils from the earlier festivities of the evening. One of the songs you sang over dinner played in a loop in his head, a beautiful melody of hope.

It didn't stop him from feeling as cold as the weather outside.

Random bouts of insomnia weren't new to him, but he couldn't put his finger on what his issue was tonight. It was a good day filled with happy moments thanks to you, the neighbor he harbored a crush on. He moved into the building around the same time as you after his pardon and someone delivered one of your packages to his door by mistake. Luckily you lived just across the hall and he made sure the box ended up in your hands.

He hadn’t expected a goddess in human form to answer the door.

“I got your box,” he said harsher than he intended to.

He half expected you to slam the door in his face for his tone. If you recognized him as the former Winter Soldier, you kept it to yourself. In fact, you didn’t look afraid of him at all as you took the box from his hands. He almost told you that you should be scared of him.

“Thank you so much for bringing it over,” you smiled.

It was the start of an unexpected friendship. He tried to find excuses to stop and talk to you whenever he saw you, which ended with him giving you an awkward smile in the beginning before he walked away. He used to know how to talk to girls and it was silly having a crush on a neighbor when he was trying to get his head on straight.

If only you didn’t make it so easy to want.

And you either found him endearing or entertaining since you began to invite him over for dinners.

Every other week, you’d trade off meals and talk about the day. You split your day between your job and making and selling jewelry online. The pieces you showed him were beautiful. You put so much care into them.

While he couldn’t give you all the details of his missions, he found himself more comfortable talking to you as time went on. One of the things he liked was that you always asked what he needed. If he wanted advice, you’d give it. If he wanted you to listen, you did just that. If he just wanted to talk, you chatted with ease.

You even stayed up with him after a few nightmares.

He was used to dealing with people who had agendas or messed with his head, but you didn’t play games.

Steve and Sam were both happy when he finally told them about you. After the former Captain America found his own girl and a bit of peace after everything, he hoped Bucky was on the path to doing the same. It impressed Sam that he actually talked to you instead of keeping everything inside.

It didn’t stop him from feeling like a burden some days.

“You’re always welcome at my place and you can always talk to me, Jamie.”

No one else was allowed to call him that.

When you heard he wasn’t doing anything around the holidays, you offered to make him a nice dinner since you wouldn't be around your family. They were, unfortunately, too far away for a quick visit. You joked that he had to watch a movie with you after dinner if he decided to come over. It was nice that you extended an invitation to him, especially when he didn’t have any traditions or anything else to look forward to.

Bucky had every intention of getting you the perfect present until an extended mission came up. He barely made it back in time to see you. Steve had to rush home to his girl and the same with Sam and his family. He declined both of their offers for him to join them, not wanting to impose on them or let you down by not showing up.

"You made it!" you said excitedly when you opened the door, looking as gorgeous as ever in a little black dress. He'd fantasize about you in it later. "You aren't hurt? You're okay?"

"Not a scratch," he assured you when he stopped staring.

"Good," you sighed in relief. "May I give you a hug? I missed you."

You didn't give him hugs without his permission and he appreciated your thoughtfulness that he might not want to be touched some days. He held his arms out for you as he wordlessly answered, taking a moment to cherish your embrace when you moved close. He didn't let it linger since he didn't want you to be uncomfortable.

But he wished he would've held you a bit longer.

"Missed you, too," he whispered as you led him inside.

If he read into it, he would’ve thought the setup was romantic. He felt a little underdressed in his leather jacket and jeans, but you didn't judge. You served by candlelight and you made sure to include all sorts of dishes he enjoyed. He ate and savored every bite. You even had a gift waiting for him under the tree before you started the movie.

He almost hugged the personalized apron and small book of recipes you made for him. He already had a meal in mind to make for you as a thank you for the next weekly dinner. But that wasn't all. You pulled out a small, white and black box from the back of the tree and handed it to him.

"You're spoiling me," he joked.

"I wanted to," you teased, messing with the hem of your dress as he opened the box.

He held his breath as he held up the dog tags. They were almost an exact replica of the ones around his neck, but there was a difference when he flipped one of them over. He ran his thumb over the letters as he read them out loud.

"I am James Bucky Barnes."

He explained to you once his need to make amends. That he was no longer the Winter Soldier. That he didn't have a choice. You took his words and created a gift for him.

His hands destroyed so many things while yours brought beauty into the world.

"I hope you like it," you said, still messing with your dress. A nervous habit he picked up on. "I know you wear yours, but I thought it would be nice to have those just in case."

"Thank you," he croaked, clearing his throat as he carefully placed them back in the box. "And I feel like the biggest asshole on the planet for not having your gift ready."

"You came over and spent the evening with me. That is a gift," you said with such sincerity that he wasn’t worthy of receiving.

Of course you wouldn’t take any offense that he showed up empty-handed. Why were you so kind to him? He wished there was mistletoe nearby simply to have the excuse to kiss you. He also wanted to thank you for making him feel at home.

Do I have a home anymore?

Naturally, he chose to flee when that thought became too much.

"You sure you don't want to stay?" you asked carefully as he gathered his things and got ready to leave. “We don’t have to watch the movie.”

"I should get back to my place, but thank you," was all he said.

His place, but not his home.

"Are you okay?" you asked.

"I will be," he said, not wanting to lie to you.

You nodded and thanked him for stopping by. You also told him to call or come back if he needed anything. The image of your sad smile as you walked him to the door would haunt him. He just knew it. He wondered if you’d ever invite him over again for another dinner after his abrupt departure.

He attempted to meditate once he got home, but it didn’t quiet his mind. Working out got some of the tension in his body out, but not much else. He debated going back to your place, but it was too late by then.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Bucky rubbed a hand over his face before his eyes trailed to the clock on the wall. It was almost 3am and he knew sleep wouldn't come to him. He grabbed his phone and debated calling you. He didn’t want to disturb you, but he wanted to hear your voice.

He half hoped you wouldn’t answer since you deserved a peaceful night of sleep, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep himself until the two of you talked.

You answered on the second ring. “Hey, Bucky,” you said with a small yawn.

Were you up waiting for me to call or did I wake you?

“I’m sorry about tonight,” he said immediately. He had to get that out there.

“Please, don’t apologize,” you replied. He knew he should’ve let you rest. “Do you need me to listen, talk, or give advice?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his vibranium hand forming a fist as he took a deep breath. “You treated me to a nice night. The best night and I just,” he gritted his teeth and exhaled through his nose. “Fuck, I don’t know.”

He was at a loss because everything tonight was right and he didn’t know what was wrong. If he couldn’t pinpoint the issue, how could he know how to fix it? How could you? It was bad enough when he was alone with his own mind and nightmares, but it was another when he felt helpless.

He didn’t like that sense of control being taken away from his own thoughts.

“Do you mind if I say something?” you offered after a few more seconds of silence.

“Not at all,” he whispered, if only to hear you speak.

“I think you might be feeling a bit alone or lost,” you said. He heard a bit of shuffling around and wondered if you were trying to get comfortable. “Holidays, for many, are about being with family and friends. When was the last time you got to celebrate with your loved ones?”

“Before I went off to war,” he whispered.

He swallowed as he put his head on the pillow. Hydra made sure he never felt the happiness of this time of year. The couple of years he went into hiding after the fall, he was alone. After healing in Wakanda, he went back into the fight. The snap happened.

And his family?

They’re long gone now.

Sam, Nat, everyone had their own traditions. Steve lost so much and deserved his quiet moments outside of the city. None of them needed to rearrange their lives to accommodate him.

Holidays were a joyous time, but also a reminder of things lost and what could have been.

“Jamie,” you breathed out. “If my dinner tonight upset you in any way, I’m-”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he stopped you, gripping his phone tighter. “It isn’t your fault my family is gone and you aren’t the cause of my pain.”

One of the reasons he respected you was because you didn’t pity him. He didn’t want you to start tonight.

“Then I need you to take back your apology because you aren’t the cause of my pain either,” you argued.

Touche.

“But I left you alone after you went to all that trouble and had those gifts made for me,” he said.

Why are you not mad at me?

“It wasn’t any trouble, but maybe it was too much or overwhelming."

“I swear, it wasn’t,” he said. How could he make you believe him? “I just have no traditions now. No special meals, movies, gifts, things to pass on, nothing."

He did just fine on his own for years, but things changed. He wouldn’t have believed he deserved happy moments before therapy and meeting you, but he did and he does. You gave him a taste of what he could have. Why couldn't he let himself take it?

"Maybe I can help you create a new tradition."

"You're done more than enough," he promised, smiling at your offer.

You've done more than you could ever know.

“I wanted to give you a special night, but I didn’t check in to see if the holiday dinner was what you really wanted. I should’ve asked, Jamie.”

“Are you kidding? Without you, I wouldn’t have even had a holiday to celebrate. It was perfect,” he promised you, standing up as he tried to gather the courage to say that you are perfect. “Did you know the only thing I wanted to do when I got back was see you?”

“Really?” you asked in a small voice. “That was the only thing you wanted?”

“Really,” he said. It wasn’t a full confession, but it was coming out. “And that’s exactly what I got, so thank you.”

“Well, to be honest, the reason I suggested a movie was so we could possibly cuddle,” you admitted.

And I fucking ruined it.

“I would’ve liked cuddling,” he said, smirking a bit. “And I really liked your dress.”

“I wore that just for you,” you said in a hushed voice, like you were trying to keep quiet. “Is there anything else about tonight that you wish would’ve been different? If you could do it all over again?”

“Honestly?” he said, not caring that he only had his boxer briefs on as he left his bedroom and headed toward the main door. “I would’ve kissed you the moment I got back from the mission.”

Even with his super soldier hearing, he had no idea you were on the other side of the door until he opened it. You still had your phone in hand as you gazed at him, no longer wearing the black dress. You switched to red and green pajamas that looked amazing on you, but he would prefer them on his floor.

“New tradition proposal,” you smiled as you stepped inside and ended the call. “We have a nice meal together, exchange gifts by the tree, and cuddle on the couch for a movie.

"Okay," he smiled, hanging up his phone, too.

"And end the night with a kiss," you said hopefully.

“I don’t think so,” he shook his head.

Your face fell when you took a step back. “Oh. I’m sorry. I should-”

He reached out to pull you back toward him, smiling when your eyes widened. “Kiss me every chance you get," he said as he removed his dog tags and put them around your neck. "Starting right now.”

You smiled just as bright as you did the first day he met you. “I think I’m going to like this tradition.”

“Me, too,” he whispered, pressing his lip against yours.

Bucky couldn’t wait to start many more traditions with you.

What other traditions would we like to see from our new couple? We have Valentine's Day!❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you

1K notes · View notes

mrs-elsie-barnes · 11 months

Text

A Pet's Praise | Prince Loki's Favourite Maid AU | Loki x Reader

When Loki hears you insulting his favourite maid he takes matters into his own hands, after all, he can't have you thinking such horrible things about yourself.

Warnings: 18+ for sexual content, dom!Loki x sub!reader, praise kink, dirty talk, body worship, fingering, mentions of other sex acts.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist | Prince Loki's Favourite Maid AU | Loki Masterlist

" I want you to look into the mirror, Pet," Loki’s large hands moved you in front of the huge gilded mirror, propped against the wall of his private chambers.

Loki placed you carefully in the centre and then backed away slowly, a small coach appearing behind him so he could sit and watch you. Your own nervous eyes met in the reflection, taking in your neat uniform: black dress, white cotton and lace apron, stockings, little lace hat perched on your hair and the confused look painted across your features.

"Your highness, I...why..." you looked back at Loki, hoping for some guidance from your Prince, but he tutted, his smile almost condescending, knowing and teasing, yet you still craved his presence, needing to know why he’d brought you here. He used one long finger to point back at the mirror and you watched his stormy eyes in the reflection instead.

"You told me earlier you didn't know why I keep asking you here. Why I show you favour." For a moment you think you can detect a note of sadness in Loki’s tone.

"Well I don't -" you began, and Loki raised one perfect eyebrow in the mirror, "your highness." And he lowered his gaze again, allowing it to soften.

"And you said some very cruel things about my most favourite little Maid.” He leant back into the cushions of the chair, crossing his long legs and allowing the leather of his trousers to stretch obscenely over his growing bulge. Oh how he loved to toy with you.

"Oh I promise I didn't," you tried to turn again, angling your shoulder, but Loki raised a hand, twirling his finger until you faced the mirror again. "I only talked about myself, your highness, the other maids are so beautiful, I promise, I would never -”

Loki kept his hand up, waiting for you to quiet.

"Exactly. I can't have you talking like this about my favourite." He smiled at you, despite his firm tone his look now was full of affection and desire and you felt your skin warm under his praise. "How do you think I should feel, having my lovely pet disrespected in such a manner? What do you think this says about your Prince?"

"I'm sorry, Master, I’m so sorry." You dropped your eyes to the black marble at your feet, wishing that you could drop to your knees and beg him for forgiveness, but you dared not move an inch.

"I don't want you to be sorry, my Pet, I want you to look at yourself. Look in the mirror at all the good and right things about yourself and tell me one thing your Prince might see in you."

You looked again at your uniform, your stocking feet and calloused hands. There was nothing beautiful there that you could find. Compared to the Prince behind you, you were nothing.

"I can't see a thing. There's no good or right side to me," you held back your tears while you surveyed yourself, picking at your dress and turning side to side.

"Yes, you can, look again," Loki stood behind you, his hands corseting your waist.

"I...I have a nice, smile," you offered, shyly, refusing to move your eyes from the swirl of white in the marble at the base of the mirror.

"You do my little Pet, you have a wonderful smile. You are the only one to smile at me, it shows your deep kindness and empathy." He moved one hand slowly up your body until he could cup your cheek in his hand, swiping his thumb over your lips. “Such a beautiful smile.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek.

"Thank you, Master," a tear appeared in the corner of your eye, his hands returning to your sides, gently pulling the ribbon of your apron so the cotton pooled at your feet.

Loki’s searching fingers reached around to the front of your uniform, skimming over the simple mother of pearl buttons, popping them open one by one. The dress slid down from your shoulders, over your hands and joined the discarded apron.

Loki bent his head, peppering delicate kisses across your back and shoulders before standing tall behind you again. He shone in the darkness, the rich colour of his green leathers and cloak accentuating his tall, lean, frame and you quivered, hoping that he would think you were cold and not attempting to hide your arousal.

There was something about being completely exposed to him that made a heat pool between your legs. Since the start of your...work, for Prince Loki he has made significant improvements to the quality of your uniform. Silk, the finest cotton, semi precious gems and metals. As well as your undergarments, perfect eyelash lace and whisper thin silk in deep emerald green, pearl tops on your garter belt and matching silk stockings in the lightest denier. Whenever you were working in his rooms he was always dressed elegantly, while you remained in a state of exquisite semi-undress for his personal enjoyment.

Now you could barely change without thinking of his eyes upon you.

"Look at yourself again, my darling Pet. And tell me what else you see." He tipped your chin up with a single finger, forcing you to see yourself again.

You shut your eyes and attempted to press your palms over your face, but his strong hands stopped you, tangling your fingers together and leaning his head onto your shoulder to keep you facing forwards.

"One more thing, little Pet, just one." He urged, and as you hesitated he slid his hands up to cup your breasts through the fine silk of your stays, "I'm sure you can think of something." He rolled a nipple between his thumb and forefinger before giving it a tweak and you let out a little yelp. "Like your noises." He nuzzled your neck. “I enjoy every one of your mewls and cries,” he was practically purring into your ear, his breathe hot on your cool skin. “I like when you can no longer help but call my name, shameless, wanton little Pet, begging for her master.” He pinched your nipple again, revelling in your yelp. “Or, even more entertaining, when you become incoherent, those squeaks and moans, such wonderful noises my Pet.”

You were dizzy with desire, focussed only on where his hands held you, where pleasure and pain mixed together to make you see stars.

"I...you...you like my nipples?" You asked, tentative and shy despite the ministrations of your master behind you.

"I do, but why?" He encouraged, rolling his thumb over your peaked nipple with a featherlight touch.

"Because...they're...Nice?"

"Nice is a terrible word, Pet. I would say, responsive, delicious, soft." He finished, moving around to block your view of yourself, one hand still plucking at your nipple under the fine lace of your corset.

"Please, Master, please...I can't." You begged, trying to fall to your knees again, anything so that you’d no longer have to look at yourself.

"Okay, Pet. Let me tell you," Loki held you close, moving you to the coach he settled you on his lap, a shimmer of green removed the last of your clothing, leaving only the lace headband that marked you as a chambermaid of the Prince.

"I see, your pretty face, your eyelashes, I love how they flutter against your cheeks while I pleasure you. Your lips, so sweet when you kiss me, when you're wrapped around me." You wiggle a little, getting excited at the thought of his heavy cock in your mouth.

"I see your body, how you move when I talk to you, tickle you," your mirror image moved again in his lap, your reflection smiling. "Look at you, my beautiful Maid, so doting to smile for your Master, to come here when I ask and keep me company.” Loki kissed you then, one hand on your back, the other holding your cheek, his lips were gentle but the firm grasp of his hands told you that you were his, that there was no escaping this affection from him, despite your shyness.

Loki moved his legs under you, hooking your knees over his and spreading you both wide, displaying you both in a lewd tableau that has you tucking your face into his neck, embarrassment creeping up your spine.

"See, Pet, how you glisten for me. Open and willing and ready." His hands slid between your parted thighs, thumbs so close to where you need him to touch you.

"Yes, Master, please touch me," you begged, tossing your head back against his shoulder, pressing your face into his pitch black hair and inhaling the sweet and musky scent of lavender laced with sandalwood.

"Tell me you're beautiful and you can have anything your little heart desires," he cooed.

"I...hmm, I...Prince Loki, you make me feel beautiful," you choked, one salty tear rolling down your cheek at the admission.

"My Darling Pet, you've done so well." His thumbs edged closer, the tips or his fingers finding your folds and spreading you wider, the effect of his words evident as your slick dripped on his legs. Your little bud ached even harder from the sudden exposure to the cold room and you cried out, so close to release.

“Please, Master, I want to cum.” You begged him, fingers digging into his arms in desperation.

"Oh, I’m not done with you yet,” Loki growled, teeth grazing your neck, and with another shimmer of magic, his clothes vanished.

With another shimmer of magic Loki's clothes vanished.

#Loki #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki x you #loki/female reader #loki/you #loki/reader #Loki Smut #dom!loki #loki laufeyson #loki laufesyon x reader #loki marvel #loki odinson

272 notes · View notes

viking-raider · 5 months

Text

SALT IN OUR WOUNDS - CHAPTER V

Summary-> After being found out by the Patrol, you try to act the part, to lower the suspension on Gus's presence.

Pairing-> Gus March-Phillipps/Reader

Word Count-> 3.3k

Chapters-> I II III IV

Warnings-> PG-13: AU, Language, Deception, References to WWII, Use of the word Nazi.

Inspiration-> The one and only Chaos Major, Gus March-Phillipps.

Author’s Note-> This is a work of Fiction, pulled from my imagination.

Divider by-> @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

-> If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST as well as my @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’ Ao3-> DRAGON_DWELLER

With the officers gone, Gus helped you to your feet, gently cradling your arm in his hands to look at the steadily bruising print on your bicep. His brows creased, as anger at the officer's roughness with you filled him again and guilt for getting you into this mess consumed him. Laying a hand on his chest, you offered him a soft, reassuring smile, nodding your head slightly.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, tracing the edge of the bruise with his thumb.

"It's not your fault, Gus." You cooed, brows pinching slightly. "It's not like you walked up here and asked us to take you in, We-" You looked at Edmund, who nodded at him. "took you in because we knew it was the right thing to do."

"So, he's not a worker from another village?" Your father's skeptical tone asked, as he regarded the three of you from his chair.

Edmund sighed heavily, rubbing the side of his face. "No, Pops. He's not." He answered, having not liked lying to your father to start with, despite it being needed at the time. Now he was going to have to ask something just as difficult. "She found Gus injured on the beach the other day, and we brought him in, so Dr. Tremblay could treat his wound. I know we told you he was working for me." He explained, moving across to sit beside him. "Now, however, the Patrol, and Trottier, think that Gus is her fiancé. We need to keep that story going. At least, until he's well again and, either they leave the area, or Gus can get back to where he needs to be."

"Can you do that, Papa?" You asked, frowning down at him, concerned for his well-being in the matter, knowing it was a lot asking your father to make merry with a random man who was pretending to be your future husband.

"Well, I have no choice in the matter, do I?" Mael answered, rubbing his shaky hands over his knees. "The mission has already been set up for me by the three of you. I'm just here as support."

"I'll make it as short a mission as possible." Gus replied, giving him a serious, but respectful, expression. "One Major, to another." He added, with a knowing glint in his blue eyes.

"I'll hold you to it." Mael stated, giving him a hard look.

"I guess there's no reason to finish the project downstairs." Edmund commented, sitting at the kitchen table with you and Gus, hands cupped around a fresh mug of coffee.

"Oh, I don't know." You chimed in, setting your tea down. "I really could use some shelves down there." You smirked, giving him a teasing expression.

Edmund gave you a squinty eyed look. "Use some shelves." He parroted, tapping the rim of his cup with his index finger. "Down-stairs."

"Mmhm." You nodded, brows going up, and giggling as Edmund's eyes flickered to Gus. "What are you looking at him for?"

"Wondering if he can get his fiancé under control." Edmund quipped, finally raising the coffee to his mouth.

"Well, I always heard, 'happy wife, happy life'." Gus answered, shifting in his seat, and glancing over at you. "So, if more shelves make her happy." He shrugged his shoulders, a gentle smile on his lips.

"Just because you give her everything she wants, doesn't mean she'll be happy." Edmund replied, an almost sour edge in his voice.

"Are you trying to compare me to Willamena?" You asked, cocking an offended brow at him.

Edmund finished off his coffee and pushed his chair back. "No." He said curtly, standing and striding over to the door, jerking his coat off the hook on the wall beside it. "I'll be back later." He huffed, going out.

"Is he all right?" Gus asked, look to you.

"Edmund will be fine." You sighed, shaking your head. "He and Willa, his wife, haven't been happy together in a very long time. So, it's a sore subject for him." You explained, getting up to take your and Edmund's cups to the sink, but glanced up at the clock. "I have to go down to the shop. We don't have anything for dinner in the refrigerator and I have to see when Remi wants me to work another shift."

"Is it far?" He inquired, coming up behind you and setting his own mug in the sink.

"No." You shook your head, biting your lip as you felt his intense warmth against your back. "Maybe a two minute walk."

"Why don't I go with you?" Gus suggested, cocking his head and smiling at you.

"Do you think you can manage with your wound?" You asked, a bit apprehensive. "I don't want you to over-extend yourself."

Gus's smile brightened and he reached out to squeeze your hand. "I'll be fine, I promise." He assured you, his thumb rubbing your wrist. "I could use the fresh air and sunshine. Plus, it'll help deter any of the Patrol, instead of making them more paranoid, if I stay inside a hundred percent of the time."

"You're right." You nodded, biting your lip, having not thought of what the Patrol would think of Gus staying hidden. "I'll get my shoes and something to wrap up in." You told him, before giving his hand a gentle pressure back.

"I'll wait for you here."

He let go of your hand and moved out of the way. Your cheeks felt warm as you hurried upstairs to grab your cardigan off the back of a chair in your room, pausing to fix your hair in the mirrored back of your vanity and spritz a bit of Soir de Paris. But you stopped, feeling silly.

"Acting like this is a date." You sighed, flustered, plopping down on your chair. fishing your shoes out from under the vanity and securing the buckles. "All right, I'm ready to go." You declared, coming back downstairs, finding Gus patiently waiting for you by the door.

"As am I." He answered, tipping his head politely, while pulling open the door.

"You mind her, Major." Mael called out to Gus, leaning forward in his chair to catch his eye.

"I would think of nothing less." Gus assured him, meeting your father's eye confidently. "I am her fiancé, after all." He quipped, with a wink, then followed you out. "Do we hold hands?" He asked, looking at you, but felt his heart kick at your startled reaction. "I'm only teasing you." He said softly, biting his lip.

"I know." You squeaked, flustered, before catching sight of your sister-in-law coming out of her home across the way. "Oh, that's Willa." You mumbled to Gus, before lifting your arm and waving to her.

"Morning, Willa!" You greeted her, grinning pleasantly.

Willa stared over at you and Gus, pulling a Rose-Tip out of her engraved case and her sky-blue enamel guilloche, sterling silver lighter from the front pocket of her knitted jumper. She didn't return your pleasant acknowledgement, instead lit her cigarette in a smooth and indifferent motion, eyes never moving off the two of you. Gus frowned, cocking a brow at her as he studied her standoffish demeanor; puzzled. She was just anti-social or if she was being rude.

"What’s her issue?" He asked you, his own eyes never leaving Willa.

"She's fine." You answered, sighing at your sister-in-law, your heart yearning to have a connection with her.

You had been excited upon hearing about Edmund courting someone; finally having another woman in the house to talk to, to share in the chores and just confide things to. Things you couldn't do with your father and brother.

However, from the moment you met, Willamena Badeaux had been distant from you.

She wasn't cold, per se, but she hadn't opened up with you either. Willa had been the first female in your close and personal circle, outside of the couple of elderly church ladies that would come over during the day. They would cook meals, clean the house, wash the laundry and just make sure you, Edmund and your father were well taken care of. After your mother had run off with her lover, the assistant shop clerk of the grocery store she frequented on her shopping trips. Which several of you figured were excuses to go and meet up with him; so she could cheat on your poor father.

But, the church women never went out of their way to be motherly or be a true confidant for you. Their love and friendship was out of pity. You were the little girl of a harlot and a mentally broken man, who could barely manage a job, dropping that weight onto his teenage son. So, when Willa came into the picture, you thought you would have a sister, not only to do sisterly things with, but to also learn how to be a woman. That's obviously not how it turned out.

She only came over to the house, if Edmund urged her to. She only held a conversation with you, if you were the one to start it and spurred it to keep going, otherwise she only spoke to Edmund or sat quietly. It only got worse, when the two of them married and moved into the cottage across the street from you and your father. Willa rarely came over for family dinners, meals you were still solely cooking for the four of you. Only occasionally getting a home cooked meal from her, after she and Edmund quarreled over her not performing her wifely duties and dropping the chores of two houses on you. As if you were their maid.

Part of you was sure, Willa detached from you, because she had been under the assumption Edmund only married her to be a mother figure to you. Not because he had been, once upon a time, madly in love with her.

"Do you need anything from the shop, Willa?" You asked, pulling yourself from sinking deeper into that emotional hole. "Gus and I are popping down there now." You explained, raising a hand and motioning to him, casually.

She stared at you for a long minute, before holding up her case, the sunlight glinting off the engraved bronze and mother of pearl. Nodding that you got the hint, you turned and started towards the center of town, with Gus following beside you. The sun was warm, heating the both of you, as well as the modest homes and buildings that lined the street, all converging on the limestone fountain round-a-bout in the middle of Saint-Thurney, spraying an arch of water from the top; a rainbow sparkling in the mist.

"This is really quite a quaint town." Gus commented, glancing about, following you across the sleepy street.

"It is." You replied, smiling up at him, proud of your little adoptive home. "It's almost like we're somewhere else entirely, instead of such a bustling and chaotic world." You told him, always feeling a sense of peace while in Saint-Thurney, even with a World War being waged around you and the town being occupied.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be." You added softly, stopping beside Remi's General Store. "This is the place!" You declared, waving your hand at the store's front windows, plastered with advertisements for goods he sold inside, several crate displays lined the bottom of one window. "You'll like Remi, he's super sweet." You smiled, reaching out for the door handle, only to have Gus beat you to it.

"Allow me." He purred, pulling it open and standing aside, for you to go in first. "Only proper for your fiancé to open it for you."

You gulped, biting the inside of your lip. "Right." You nodded, clearing your throat. "You're right."

Composing yourself, you went inside, finding Remi at the only register with one of the residents, Mrs. Moulin, the Mayor's wife. They looked up at you and smiled, before their expressions twisted into apprehensive confusion, spotting Gus coming in behind you.

"Morning, Remi. Mrs. Moulin." You greeted them cheerily, while trying to keep casual, like there was nothing out of the ordinary for Gus to be there with you.

"Good morning." Mrs. Moulin addressed you, her eyes still on Gus, as if she expected him to lash out at everyone.

"Who is this?" Remi asked, ignoring his manners, unlike her.

"This is Gus." You grinned brightly, looking back at him and your breath catching in your throat at the feeling of him taking your hand. "He's my fiancé." You declared, heart racing in your chest.

Both Remi and Mrs. Moulin looked floored at the announcement, particularly Remi, who you had worked for for several years and knew you'd never mentioned having a male suitor. Let alone a fiancé! So, selling Remi on Gus being your betrothed was going to be one of the other hurdles you faced, on top of the Patrol and Director General.

"When did this happen?" Remi snapped, dumbfounded and looking almost outraged. "You never mentioned anything!"

Gus rested his free hand on the small of your back, his eyes taking the other man in, sizing him up. "Keeping me your own little secret, Peanut?" He asked, a sparkle coming into his eyes as he looked at you, bashfully.

A zing shot through you, hearing him call by your nickname, your skin breaking out in goosebumps. "I have been." You smirked, bashfully turning your face into his bicep.

"How did the two of you meet?" Remi asked, continuing his interrogation.

"We knew each other from before she moved here." Gus answered, surprising you on how casually he came up with the fabricated detail. "I reached out to her just after I enlisted, and well, I proposed to her a year ago." He stated, smiling at you and caressing your back with his thumb. "Thankfully, she said, yes."

"Would you have gotten yourself shot sooner, if I said no?" You teased him back, getting lost in the moment.

Gus grinned at you, amused, but he felt something deeper. "Definitely." He nodded slowly, his blue eyes soft.

Mrs. Moulin gasped, crossing herself. "You were shot?"

"Yes, madam. I was." Gus replied, tipping his head politely to her. "That's the reason I'm here, and not back in Belgium; fighting." He stated, lightly touching his wound. "This lovely gem is taking care of me." He cooed, touching his thumb to your chin with a wink, making your knees a little weak.

"I thank you, sir." Mrs. Moulin said, straighten her petite body, then glanced around the group. "Fighting those damn Nazis."

Your mouth fell open, surprised to hear the ordinarily prim and proper lady, curse. "Mrs. Moulin." You mumbled, in a state of shock.

"Well, it's true!" She huffed at you, gathering up her grocery bags. "I'm sick of them being in my town, marching about, like they own it."

"I'd be careful with what you say, Mrs. Moulin." Remi warned, as she moved for the door. "You never know who you can trust." He said, eyeing Gus.

"Luckily, everyone here is trustworthy." You chimed, with confused surprise. "Have a good day, Mrs. Moulin. Say hello to the Mayor for me."

"Oh, I will, my dear." She answered, reaching out to rest her hand on your arm, looking between you and Gus. "You make a beautiful couple. You must let my brother, Zane, marry you when the time comes." She said, with a sweet smile.

Your cheeks blazed at her words. "We'll put him at the top of consideration." You promised her, offering her your own soft smile.

"Good." She nodded, patting your arm and gave Gus a cheeky wink, before scuttling out the door.

"Do I have a shift this week, Rem?" You asked, turning your attention back to your boss, who hadn't taken his judging eyes off of you.

"I haven't gone over the schedule yet this week." He answered, gruffly. "So, I'll have to let you know."

"All right." You nodded, feeling the cold coming off of him in waves. "Well, I have a bit of shopping to do for the house." You said, trying to shrug it off as Remi's reluctance to trust with the uncertainty of war, having lost both his brothers.

Gus stepped away from you, to grab a small hand basket from the stack by the door, holding it for you as you puttered around the modest aisles and freezers, grabbing a few items and placing them in the basket.

"Everything is so bare." He commented, watching you grab a box of oatmeal, only one of four on the scarce shelf.

"We're being rationed." You replied, sighing as you tucked a box of dry pasta in with the rest of your groceries. "Remi only gets a shipment of things once a week to stock the shelves. If you want something and don't get here early enough for it..." You trailed off, shrugging your shoulders dismissively.

“Suppose, being enlisted for so long, I’ve been a bit blind to the tribulations of civilians.” Gus frowned, his brow creasing heavily. “Not that I didn’t know about rationing. I just didn’t…” He shook his head, a hardness coming into his blue eyes. “Damned Nazis.” He growled, rolling his jaw.

You rested your hand on his elbow, looking up at him with a soft expression. “It is what it is, Gus.” You told him, quietly. “But it will change. We’ll beat them and everything will go back to how it should.”

“As it should.” He echoed, meeting your eye for a long moment.

What will happen after the War ends? No matter who wins. I’ll have to go back to the Army. I’ll have to leave her. Could I come back after my service? Would you want me to come back? Could I…

He shook his head hard, trying to shove the thoughts away. It was delusional to think such things, he was getting too involved and attached. He needed to keep a barrier between the two of you, to protect you against the danger he presented as an officer of the British Army.

“Well, what’s for dinner?” He asked, forcing that wall back up and peeking into the basket he carried for you.

“Um..” You cocked a brow at the basket’s contents taking stock of it and what you knew was at home. “I could make a simple stew. Wouldn’t be too much, but it would be something in our bellies.”

“I have faith in your cooking abilities.” Gus smiled, the sparkle coming back into his eyes.

“Kind of you.” You giggled shyly. “I think that's about all we need.” You said, biting your lip and glancing about the modest shop. “We can get rung up.” You smiled, heading towards Remi at the register. “How’s your Mum, Rem?” You asked, as he slowly added up everything in your basket.

Remi’s mother had suffered great shock at the loss of her two older sons, Duncan and Andre, who had enlisted and been shipped off to the thick of the war. Duncan had died in the Battle of Crete, taking shrapnel that nicked a serious artery and bled to death before anyone could do anything for him. The most tragic though, was Andre. His squad was ambushed by a German one and overtaken. It had been a hard time for many in the town, when they received the telegraph informing them of Andre officially being MIA. Every time Remi’s mother was seen, she was balling her eyes out and lamenting, prophesying that he too would die as her oldest did.

Two months later though, another telegraph arrived informing them that Andre had been found alive, but being held in a German Prisoner of War camp. His mother was relieved to hear he was alive, however she was still devastated to hear of his situation. Andre survived for a while in the camp. Two whole years, to be exact. But the fated telegraph ultimately arrived, one blustery day, and practically the entire town heard her screaming.

So, in that sense, you and Remi had developed a friendship based on an understanding of parents with mental health issues, inflicted by wars in some way.

“She’s doing all right.” Remi answered, not looking up from his task.

You blinked at him, ordinarily he would elaborate on how his mother was doing when you asked, even if nothing had changed about her. But you realized quickly where his reluctance came from, feeling Gus shift beside you.

Men. You rolled your eyes.

“Can I have Willa’s usual as well?” You asked, ignoring the thick air between Gus and Remi.

“Sure.” Remi nodded, half turning on his heels to grab the red and white, Rose Tip box and tucked it into the bag. “I’ll put this on your tab.” He said, setting it in your reach.

“Thanks.” You smiled uneasily at him, as Gus scooped the bag up and tucked it carefully against his good side. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow.” You told him, before leaving the shop and tracing your steps back home.

“What’s wrong?” Gus inquired, glancing down at you.

“Nothing.” You informed him, licking your lips and shaking your head. “Guess he’s just having a rough day.” You brushed it off.

Gus moved out of the cellar and into the cramped guest room upstairs, nothing separating the two of you now, but the wall of your closet. The two of you agreed it was much more agreeable to have him there than the cellar in the event the Patrol and the Inspector returned. They know doubt would, their suspension of Gus was all too obvious. It would also be more comfortable for him in the guestroom, giving him a softer bed, the luxury of sunlight and fresh air from the window that overlooked the back garden. As well as the beach, beyond the garden wall.

But as Gus healed and regained his strength again, he knew he had to find a way back to his men, and the war. He had to find out what happened to his men, if they were still alive. How he was to do that, was another matter altogether.

The last thing he recalled of the group was infiltrating a Nazi Intelligence Camp to rescue one of their own, Geoffrey Appleyard. They had gotten into the camp and things had gone well. He and his second hand man, Anders Lassen, moved smoothly together before nodding at each other and Gus looked back to Henry Hayes, jerking his head for the younger man to follow him. They moved swiftly through the camp, taking Nazis out left and right and making the camp practically useless for any that tried to use it again; with Freddy Alvarez setting up a plethora of explosives as a finishing touch.

Gus was proud of his men. No one had been seriously injured, beyond a handful of scratches. It had been one of their best in and out missions in the two years the unofficial, rag-tag group had been put together. That alone should have given Gus a measure of paranoia.

Missions should never go so easily.

The shot rang out and everyone in the group tensed, the jolly celebration that filled them instantly vanished as they dropped their looted goods and scrambled for their weapons, pulling out guns and bows. Gus hated being caught by surprise, especially by damned Nazis. He gritted his teeth, returning fire, while trying to assess the situation. They were a mile and a half from shore, where their boat was waiting to take them back to the safety of Allied Lines. There was a sparse covering of forest between them and their extraction point, that could give them some shelter. As much as Gus March-Phillippss hated being surprised, he hated running. But hearing Anders call out that there were too many and ammo was running low, Gus gave the signal to retreat to the boat, taking up the rear to ensure none of his men lagged behind.

It was him that lagged behind.

He felt the hot burn of lead piercing his side, faltering only momentarily, his eyes focused on the back of Lassen’s head, breath from his lungs starting to wheeze in his throat and his vision spot. Gus’s memory skipped in and out from there, like a scratched record. Spotting the boat ahead of the group and urging them forward, the heat of blood soaking into his clothing and his knees feeling like jelly. He couldn’t recall if he made it to or onto the boat with the others, then somehow fell overboard, or something more happened.

There were dark bits lurking in his mind of freezing cold enveloping him, no doubt of him in the Channel.

“Your father’s very into following the movements of the War.” Gus said one morning, sipping a cup of coffee as the two of you finished breakfast.

“He is.” You nodded.

“Does he only follow the major events or…” He trailed off, meeting your eye.

“No, he follows whatever is reported on or gossiped about in newspapers and the radio.” You replied, sensing his intent and sudden interest in your father’s hobby. “Why?” You asked, cautiously.

“I need to know what happened to my men.” Gus told you, bluntly and honestly. “I have to know if they’re still alive, dead or in prisoner of war camps. Perhaps your father has some information that could be useful to me, on that front.”

“How?” You shook your head, confused.

“I was injured during a mission.” He divulged to you, in a low voice. “It wasn’t an official or authorized mission, but there might be a possibility of it being reported on.” He cast an eye over his shoulder to the sitting room, where your father lounged in his usual spot. “Do you think he’d discuss it with me?”

You snorted at him and lifted your tea cup to your lips. “Do I think so? It’s more a matter of getting him to quit, once you get him going.” You said, taking a deep gulp of the rich, brown liquid. “But, yes.” You nodded, assuring him. “I’m sure my father would likely share any information he has on the War with you. Just wait until later in the morning. He likes to nap after breakfast, and he’ll be more receptive and energetic about the subject.”

“Excellent.” Gus smiled, patting your arm. “Would you like to go on a walk with me, to pass the time?”

“I think that would be quite agreeable.” You cooed, finishing off your tea.

132 notes · View notes

gffa · 2 years

Text

It’s been over half a year since I did a set of STAR WARS fic recs that weren’t pairing-focused, but I have been reading fic along the way! And sometimes you want fic that’s not about ships, no matter how much you love them, sometimes you just want to read about friendships or you want to read some cool worldbuilding or you only want the plot, and Star Wars fandom has been lovely about that. Hell, sometimes you just want to cry about how much you love the Jedi and you want to share that affection with other people, through the incredible experience of telling stores about them, like they were trying so hard and they were right about so many things and they were dying for years to try to help the galaxy, and teaching about how emotional regulation is good actually, and sometimes you want to show that through the disaster trio and sometimes you want to yell about how good Mace Windu is and sometimes you want to love frog grandpa and sometimes you want to get into a fistfight to defend Luminara’s honor and sometimes you want the whole Order sitting down to a family dinner and sometimes you want fic where Anakin and Mace actually get along and so many other things! So, here’s a collection of some excellent fic that I think most people should be able to find at least something to enjoy, whether you’re looking for fun disaster lineage shenanigans or heartbreaking pain because Star Wars Is Pain or some awesome Jedi Order worldbuilding or some all too rare Mace Windu Appreciation fic, I HOPE YOU ENJOY. WHAT KIND OF FIC YOU��LL FIND HERE:

FICS THAT PUNCHED ME IN THE FACE WITH HOW GOOD THEY WERE

CANON-COMPLIANT (MOSTLY, UP TO A CERTAIN POINT, WHATEVER) DISASTER LINEAGE

JEDI CULTURE AND WORLDBUILDING AND CELEBRATION

I AM A PREQUELS ERA BITCH AND I’M MAKING THAT EVERYONE ELSE’S PROBLEM

FOR THE OBITINE SHIPPERS, OF WHICH I AM ONE

MULTIGENERATIONAL STAR WARS IS THE BEST STAR WARS

NOBODY NEEDS THEIR HEART TODAY ANYWAY

FRIENDSHIP WITH CANON ENDED, THIS COOL AU IS MY NEW BEST FRIEND NOW

FICS THAT PUNCHED ME IN THE FACE WITH HOW GOOD THEY WERE: ✦ fill pages with scribbled ink by magneticwave, obi-wan/padme & anakin & cast, 9.8k A year after the Invasion of Naboo, Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi is invited by Queen Amidala to return to Naboo and participate in a rite known as the Night of Fireflies. Things kind of snowball from there. ✦ Stars of Tatooine by Be_Right_Back, ahsoka & kanan & mace & rex & obi-wan & cast, 10.5k After the end of the world, Ahsoka more or less kidnaps a child, has to air some old grievances, and tries to find whatever peace the universe can still offer. All paths in the Force lead home, eventually. ✦ A Discussion of Choices by Peppermint_Shamrock, mace & luke, 2k Mace Windu has traveled the galaxy since the fall of the Republic, keeping out of the Empire’s sight and teaching where he can. Upon the request of a ghost of an old friend, Mace finds himself instructing Luke Skywalker, who is still reeling from the truth of Vader’s identity. CANON-COMPLIANT (MOSTLY, UP TO A CERTAIN POINT, WHATEVER) DISASTER LINEAGE: ✦ stars lean in a little closer by gigglesandfreckles, obi-wan & ahsoka, 3.9k Ahsoka is struggling with nightmares after returning from Felucia, but her pesky grandmaster won’t leave her to deal with them alone ✦ Four Walls and Two Jedi by hellowkatey, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 10k Obi-Wan and Anakin get exposed to a deadly virus and must spend two weeks in quarantine battling sickness, ghosts from the past, and worries for the future. ✦ Care, Trust, and the Force (of course) by hellowkatey, obi-wan & anakin, whump, 1.7k Anakin takes a tumble during a battle that brings about a lot of old fears. ✦ Chains Bound and Broken by PhenomenalWoman, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 6.3k Where Anakin goes undercover and learns that being a 9 year-old slave is not the same as being a 22 year-old slave. ✦ Anakin’s Birthday by Peach_Bitters (peachybitters), obi-wan & anakin, 1.3k Anakin is about to celebrate his first birthday as a Jedi Padawan and Obi-Wan helps to make it special. Pure fluff. ✦ Not Much Has Changed, Except for Everything by hellowkatey, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon, time travel, 4.4k Anakin is angry at Obi-Wan, and the Force decides to intervene by throwing him back in time. ✦ cause a commotion (jump in the ocean) by loosingletters, anakin & ahsoka, 1.2k Ahsoka worries about finding a Master and instead finds a friend haunting the ponds in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. ✦ still much that is fair by RaineyDay, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & qui-gon & bant & tahl & cast, time travel, 21.1k Anakin Skywalker was used to following the commands of the Force in his daily life. But a lot of the time, that didn’t really mean much. Until the day the Force nudged him to catch a kid falling through the sky- and through time. ✦ unbalanced, triumphant, and trying again by katierosefun, obi-wan & anakin, 2.6k sometimes you just want to go home, wherever that may be. ✦ Haste Has No Blessing by Peach_Bitters (peachybitters), obi-wan & anakin, spanking, 3k Ten-year-old Anakin Skywalker becomes impatient with the speed of his training and defies his master’s instructions. ✦ to be better by gigglesandfreckles, obi-wan & anakin, 1.8k the Council has lost a planet, much to Anakin and Obi-Wan’s dismay. they’ve been tasked with finding it, but after nine hyperspace jumps and a painful discovery, Obi-Wan teaches his former Padawan one more lesson. ✦ And The War Never Sleeps by soft_but_gremlin, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 1k As the war goes on, it gets harder to get any sleep. ✦ Keeper of the Force by Pandora151, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & bant & plo & vokara & cast, read the warnings, 93.9k Thirty years before the Clone Wars began, the Force selected its Keeper. Now, in the face of the intense turmoil plaguing the galaxy, the Force acts again. Anakin just wants everything to go back to how it was before, Ahsoka doesn’t completely understand what is happening but is willing to do whatever she can to help, and Obi-Wan’s past comes back to haunt him in a way he never expected. ✦ Moving by SingManyFaces, obi-wan & anakin & plo, 3k Obi-Wan’s new padawan is having difficulty learning to meditate but, together, they find a way to make it work. ✦ unthinkingly by katierosefun, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 1.1k Ahsoka felt her entire body grow cold as she whirled around for them, opened her mouth to shout a warning— She saw Anakin tense first, saw him lift his face to the sky, and then his eyes met Ahsoka’s briefly—and then she saw him race for Obi-Wan, shove him out of the way, and— Ahsoka’s shout joined Obi-Wan’s. ✦ what they grow beyond by gigglesandfreckles, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & qui-gon, 2.7k Obi-Wan learns there is just as much learning in teaching. ✦ Deepest Rivers by TexasDreamer01, obi-wan & anakin, 1.5k “The deepest rivers flow with the least sound.” - Quintus Curtius Rufus ✦ Inactions Have Consequences by stolen_pen_name23, obi-wan & anakin & mace, 2k Losing Qui-Gon was the hardest thing Obi-Wan ever endured. He can’t bear to do it to Anakin. OR: Obi-Wan tries to keep Anakin at arm’s length. It doesn’t work. ✦ Aftercare by AdaliaK, obi-wan & anakin & quinlan, spanking, 3k When Anakin feels resentful of Obi-Wan after a punishment, “Uncle Quin” steps in and smooths things over between master & padawan. JEDI CULTURE AND WORLDBUILDING AND CELEBRATION: ✦ Festival of Light by dendral, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 8.7k During his first year at the Jedi Temple, Anakin learns that even the Jedi celebrate holidays. ✦ Songs for Little Jedi by soft_but_gremlin, mace & jedi, ~1k The initiates are having nightmares, so Mace sings a lullaby to comfort them. ✦ Mace Windu Appreciation Week by Redminibike1, mace & obi-wan & anakin & yoda & qui-gon & ponds & cody & cast, 12.5k Set of unconnected ficlets for Mace Windu Appreciation Week, because he deserves it :) ✦ a thin thread of hope by wrennette, shaak & clones, ~1k Shaak Ti introduces some cadets to one of her favourite crafts, under the guise of training. ✦ everyone comes home by nightdotlight, anakin & mace, 1.1k Anakin laughs, drowsy with the painkillers the IV feeds into his veins, and smiles at Mace. “You’re funny,” he says. “Nobody ever says it, but— you’re funny. I like the jokes you make.” ✦ Masters and Apprentices by silveryink, obi-wan & cody & rex & cast, 1.8k “You’re overthinking this.” Rex stared at his brother. “Okay, but – consider this, what if I’m not?” Cody snorted. “Rex. We’ve had a Padawan Commander before. We’ve also worked with cadets before. We managed with Skywalker, I’m sure that the Jedi shiny will be fine.” ✦ a comedy in four acts by jesuisdeux, obi-wan & yoda & mace & dooku & cast, time travel, 17.2k This was what time-travel is: staring at the dark sockets of skulls everywhere your gaze lands on. Being haunted by ghosts long gone. The apprehension of the slow yet sure approach of the inevitable which is sending chills down your spine. ✦ when the world is on your side by loosingletters, obi-wan & anakin & feemor & cast, 1k Feemor and his Padawan meet Obi-Wan Kenobi and his Padawan. ✦ rah kat by js71, obi-wan & anakin & aayla, 1.6k “Aay’shee,” Obi-Wan murmurs into her ear, rocking her gently, like when jaieh was off on a mission she couldn’t go on, so her jaieh-raheniel would take turns having her over at their apartments. ✦ Lessons on Attachment by Siri_Kenobi12, obi-wan & anakin/padme & cast, 2.7k “Anakin once told me that a Jedi is actually encouraged to love.” She said after Obi-Wan had settled. ✦ settle down by loosingletters, yoda & jedi, 1.9k Five times Yoda cooks for somebody and one time someone cooks for him. ✦ at our gardens (during the eye of the storm) by gingerbeer, rainsoaked_benevolence (oceans_bluem), obi-wan & shaak & mace & yoda & feemor & cast, 7k Obi-Wan and his (almost full) family gathers to drink tea. ✦ in our kitchen (after the war) by gingerbeer, rainsoaked_benevolence (oceans_bluem), obi-wan & ahsoka & mace & yoda & depa & shaak & cast, 5.4k Or, (almost) all of the Jedi High Councilors (plus Ahsoka) gather to eat dinner together. ✦ with our family (after the dust has settled) by gingerbeer, rainsoaked_benevolence (oceans_bluem), obi-wan & ahsoka & yoda & mace & depa & kanan & quinlan & aayla & shaak & plo & cast, 6.2k Or, after the war ends (for real this time!), the (actually full!) Council gathers to eat mooncakes. ✦ Straw Dogs by Cymbidia, obi-wan & jedi & cast, 2.9k An old Jedi Master imparts some wisdom concerning Mercy, Balance, and the Will of the Force to young Padawan Obi-wan Kenobi and a gaggle of other younglings. It is a lesson that haunts Obi-wan for the rest of his life. I AM A PREQUELS ERA BITCH AND I’M MAKING THAT EVERYONE ELSE’S PROBLEM: ✦ netanalo by js71, cal & tapal & rex & fives, 2.4k The Senate had sent a child to see into the past. A Padawan, Ahsoka’s age, not much older. Rex’s heart pounded in his chest, climbing towards his throat, because damn the Senate, did they know how this would affect the kid, or did they just not care? ✦ what’s in a birthday (another year you live) by Ro29, luminara & barriss & gree & cast, 2.1k The Jedi view life as something precious, and Commander Gree learns he has value for the simple fact that he is alive. ✦ Direct Action by silveryink, luminara & barriss & kix & cast, 4.3k Upon investigating the health of her new battalion, Barriss discovers tumours located in all their heads. It’s a bigger problem than it appears to be. ✦ oh that dissolving light by wrennette, obi-wan/luminara, NSFW, 1.1k Luminara and Obi-Wan enjoy an evening of relaxation together during the war. ✦ I Feel Glad When You’re Glad by Harpokrates, ahsoka & plo, 1k Plo Koon considers his bright young charge. ✦ Non-Attachment and other Misconceptions by art_of_a_diffrent_color, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & plo & mace & qui-gon & cast, 3k wip Plo Koon, fresh off the planet Shili with a two and a half-year-old girl in his custody, is sent to Naboo to collect the body of Qui-Gon Jinn and assess the mental health of his former Padawan. What happens that day changes everything. ✦ Battle Heavy by phoenixyfriend, anakin & padme (past anakin/padme), 2.2k In which things are finalized, and emotions are settled. FOR THE OBITINE SHIPPERS, OF WHICH I AM ONE: ✦ atmosphere level by softredscrunchie, obi-wan/satine & qui-gon, 1k As a joke, Satine tells Obi-Wan she thinks Mandalore is flat. He doesn’t take it well. MULTIGENERATIONAL STAR WARS IS THE BEST STAR WARS: ✦ Faith in Darkness by icarus_chained, luke & grogu & din & anakin & cast, force ghosts, 11.2k Hindsight was perfect. And all nightmares came back, eventually. All nightmares came again. ✦ Paternal Relations by willowcrowned, obi-wan & anakin & luke, 1.2k “No,” Vader says, “I am your father.” Every bit of the pain, the terror, and the rage that have been flooding Luke’s senses is completely drowned out by utter confusion. What, he thinks, the fuck. Oh shit, Luke thinks, Vader is my dad’s ex-husband. ✦ Burdening Fate by Be_Right_Back, obi-wan & din, 2k There’s a wise old man standing in a field next to Din, with knowing eyes full of light. NOBODY NEEDS THEIR HEART TODAY ANYWAY: ✦ somewhere along in the bitterness by CallToMuster, obi-wan & anakin, read the warnings, 3.8k It was probably the twelfth day floating alone in space that Obi-Wan and Anakin realized no one was coming for them. ✦ infinite sadness by billowypants, obi-wan & anakin, force ghosts, ~1k You have always known what your purpose was in this world. Ever since you could think for yourself, you had somehow known that you were meant for infinite sadness. So what is unfolding in front of you right now makes no sense. ✦ this tired old elegy by grumpyhedgehogs, obi-wan & bly & jedi & clones, 2.4k In which Bly is This Close to breaking out of the chip’s control by himself and Obi-Wan shows up to give him that extra push. ✦ programed to dream by ghostwriterofthemachine, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 1.3k The spaceship Comet-rider is the fastest, most efficient vessel in the galaxy, and is crewed by Separatist-funded pirates. Anakin Skywalker is missing. Unfortunately, these two things are connected. ✦ a trolley problem for jedi by nightdotlight, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & mace & depa & kanan, 4.1k There’s this old problem. You may have heard of it. Something about a trolley, and a person, and a lever. A choice. ✦ premonition by grumpyhedgehogs, obi-wan & anakin, 2.6k Anakin dreams of the future. (It isn’t bright.) ✦ Betrayal by Pandora151, obi-wan & anakin, read the warnings, 1.5k Obi-Wan gets to Coruscant earlier than expected after escaping from Utapau. It changes things. ✦ Together or Not at All by Pandora151, obi-wan & anakin & padme, 2.7k In the aftermath of the Battle of Geonosis, Anakin crashes, and Obi-Wan and Padmé struggle to keep him alive long enough to get him help, all while trying to face their new reality. The reality of war. FRIENDSHIP WITH CANON ENDED, THIS COOL AU IS MY NEW BEST FRIEND NOW: ✦ strip away my conscience (peel away my values) by gostaks, obi-wan & anakin & palpatine, sith!obi-wan, 1k Obi-Wan Kenobi is an onion—he has layers. Beneath those layers, growing blacker every day, is the seed of the Republic’s fall. ✦ i am his brother, and i love him well by egeria, obi-wan/satine & anakin/padme, modern au, 2.9k Anakin introduces Padmé to Obi-Wan. It goes well. Not that Anakin believes that. ✦ Tolnah kodaih kat delo anohrah'ak by loosingletters, obi-wan & anakin & jango & boba & cast, 4.2k wip The one where Shmi is Jango’s older half-sister, Obi-Wan is raising a Mandalorian Padawan and Palpatine’s plans get ruined because four-year-old Boba Fett loves his cousin. ✦ No Death, Only the Force by ExtraPenguin, anakin & mace & depa & shmi, body swap, 2.8k Anakin Skywalker is just about to to free his mother from the Tuskens when the Force rudely yanks him to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant – and into Mace Windu’s body. Mace, on the other hand, gets tossed into Anakin’s body on Tatooine.

#obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #mace windu #jedi order #fic recs #star wars fic recs

852 notes · View notes

anika-ann · 1 year

Text

Pomiluj me (Love Me Tender) - S.R.

Type: medieval/fantasy/fairy tale AU; standalone (NOT a part of this medieval AU)

Pairing: knight Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 10k 😁 best possible division if needed is at the first divider

Summary: Knight Steven Rogers and his brothers in arms are returning home after having tackled an unruly creature terrorizing the people of Starkerbürg. Upon encountering an injured woman, Steven offers to bring her – carry her, truly – back to her home. How could he deserve a knighthood if he left a woman in distress to her fate, after all?

But not everything it as it seems. And love blooms in the most unlikely of places.

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, unprotected sex (shocking in medieval times huh), bit of angst, tons of fluff, himbo knights in BBC Merlin style (long live the legends), knight Steve ‘cause he’s a warning, Slovak language ‘cause I can

A/N: Title from the song which inspired the story, Pomiluj mě (Love on Me/Love Me Tender)...tumblr cannot handle an “ě “in their title 🙃 Lyrics, translation and link here, you’ll find a few lines in the fic as well - truly recommend. DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics

A/N/2: AO3 says this is my 100th work (as posted here anyway) and I’m brushing 1,680k of words written according to the counter. Which… whoa. And it’s almost six years since I first posted a marvel fic 🥺 Enjoy!

Alone, you only wander in the dark Chased by the cold I shall light up the torch you’re guarding

Should I be worried about you That all you do is take When are you coming back to me?

The cavalry moved rather slowly.

The noble men appeared a far cry from the polished image known from books, even as they had attempted to wash in a river. They reeked of battle, smoke and blood still; and the drying blood in their wounds was just as red as that of ordinary men, the scent of sweat and fear having seeped into their clothes and armour. And yet, their vests carried the sigil of Starkerbürg with pride, signaling the knights’ dedication to the protection of their kingdom.

With only horse left, they truly might make a pitiful sight, certain weariness to their step; but an air of victory and camaraderie made for a picture of life instead. Laughter sounded between the group, a joke thrown around here and there, a tease about a wound each of them suffered, particularly the youngest one. Despite those, true concern for their new friend, Sir Parker, could be read in their eyes. He was the youngest to ever been dubbed in the history of Starkerbürg; it was no wonder the good men assigned him the role he would have played had the bond they shared been one of a blood family. The youngest of brothers was as much made fun of as protected, since he was eager to prove he deserved the honour to ride with the knights of Starkerbürg just like any other. Now he sat on the horse in front of Sir Barton, the eldest, as they made their way back after successfully ridding the kingdom of a horrific creature: the chimera had been believed to only exist in old tales until it brought terrible and painfully real suffering to the people of the west of the kingdom and so the king’s loyal servants were tasked to ride at dawn five days ago.

“Alright, alright, let us leave the poor lad,” Sir Barton said, patting the young Sir Parker on his shoulder a little too hard. “He shall do better next time.”

Peter smiled over his shoulder gratefully, having started to feel not humbled, but humiliated.

“Yes, yes, we should let him be,” Sir Maximoff agreed, side-eyeing the two riders mischievously. “We should talk about how you moved like an old lady.”

The collective ooooooh and chuckles might have as well come from a group of children, rather than grown men, causing Sir Barton to glare at the cheeky lad he called a friend.

“Old ladies are wise and worth of respect, Maximoff. You could learn a thing or two from them, as you had learned from me,” he scoffed, feigning offence. “Do not forget who taught you how to swing a sword, kiddo.”

“There is a point in what Clint is saying,” Sir Wilson hummed good-naturedly, raising his eyebrow at Pietro in challenge.

“Maybe. Does not change the fact he’s grown seven years older since then, while I have grown seven years more mature.”

The explosion of laughter following his statement was louder this time.

“In your dreams, maybe,” Sir Barnes snorted, elbowing his best of friends, Sir Rogers. “About as mature as this one was when he used to pick his battles with guys twice his size, eh?”

Sir Rogers, Steven to most, only smirked, speaking up for the first time in a while, since his thoughts were far far away. “Should we get technical, we all took up on an enemy twice our size only yesterday morning.”

“Oh?” Sir Barton feigned surprise. “Listen to the guy. He might tell you what brought the monster to its knees next – an arrow straight to its eye. Remind me, Maximoff, whose crossbow it was that fired it?” he asked pointedly, grinning down at the man walking by their horse, earning an eyeroll.

“Did it even have knees?” Sir Lang questioned, “All I know is that it was a nasty, nasty thing.”

“Nastier than Hydra? Cut off one had, two shall takes its place? I truly believed that was only a legend…” Sir Wilson said, a visible shiver of disgust shaking him.

“Not sure we can compare the two… maybe Barnes or Rogers could, huh?” Sir Maximoff suggested.

Steven’s face darkened; he did indeed remember the hydra creature very well for it nearly cost his best friend his arm. The scars still littered Bucky’s skin, from the back of his hand all the way up to his shoulder; Gods had blessed him enough that his ability to use his arm remained intact, even as its appearance did not.

As for the strange chimera they had slayed yesterday… it was true that Steven had gotten more familiar with it then he would have liked. He could recall it with uncomfortable clarity: its foul breath smelling of death on his face, feeling as if it had seeped deep into his very bones when he had finally thrusted his sword through its heart. He could still hear the clang of teeth near his neck, a near death sentence.

No, he would rather not compare the two. He would rather not think of either of the creatures at all.

“Why us, Maximoff? Because I nearly lost my arm to the former and my best friend to latter? No thanks,” Sir Barnes hissed, face turning ashen as well.

Steven instinctively reached for his friend, squeezing his arm, casting a concerned glance as he was torn away from his own dark memories.

“Buck…”

“Are you jesting? Sir Rogers was incredible,” Sir Parker cried out excitedly, having four of the knights groan, for Steven’s bravery – or idiocy, should anyone ask Sir Barnes, truly – was all the youngest knight had been talking about for the majority of their journey, causing Steven’s cheeks redden under his beard, sense of pride and satisfaction battling the terror of the memory. As for the remaining knights, well; while they did not diminish Steven’s important contribution of delivering the fatal blow, they had grown annoyed at the constant babble.

“Sure he was, kiddo.”

“Oh yes. They should probably knight him. Oh wait-“ Sir Wilson said, causing the men to laugh.

“Yeah, a set of deadly teeth perhaps three inches from his throat? Let him have all the glory and Princess Morgana’s hand too,” Sir Barnes grumbled, sending his friend both a proud and irked glance.

A sudden rustle of leaves and a woman’s yelp followed by a thud caused them all fall silent and turnbattle-ready in a split second, snapping in the direction of noise.

However, there was little need for caution. Their intruder barely appeared dangerous: the peasant woman observed them with wide eyes and forehead scrunched in pain, blossoms of common elder, spilled all around her like precious silks of a gown instead of the worn fabric of the simple shirt, shawl and ankle-length skirt, speaking thousand words of what she had been doing until she had fallen. Her fingers were clutching at her left foot, a clear sign of her ungraceful landing. The tree was by no means tall, but that should not mean the fall was what they could call comfortable.

For a moment, the group of knights stood frozen, rendered speechless as much as the poor woman who found herself face to face with not one but seven of the crown’s most loyal servants.

Steven, perhaps the kindest of them all, was the first to snap from the shock of an unexpected disturbance of their journey, releasing the grip on his sword, never having drawn it from its sheath. He took several long strides to the young woman, instantly capturing her attention.

“My lady, are you quite alright?” Steven inquired, gently as he realized his large frame, accentuated by his armour, might intimidate the poor sweetling.

And yet. Just as the question left his lips and his gaze met hers, he was the one rendered mute all of sudden.

Steven had never seen anyone more clearly, he was certain; and just as sure he was of the fact that no woman could ever hope to encompass sincerity and beauty in her eyes only as the one he was facing at the moment.

Her smile was but a shy little thing, pain masked by gratitude for the knight’s care. He was a handsome one, of robust built but with delicate lines to his face, bright blue irises with a speckle of green, plush lips framed by a short beard; distantly, she imagined his wide shoulders would barely fit the doorframe of her cabin – of her hut, truly. She found the imagery enticing, almost as much as the gentle tone he had spoken with despite his giant frame.

“’Quite aright’ seems accurate, sir. I am not hurting much beyond my left ankle,” she admitted, even as her source of discomfort was evident from her hand still covering the affected area.

Steven’s brows furrowed slightly in worry, yet he made no move, spoke no words, even as his lips parted. Instead, his eyes roamed the woman’s face, searching and fascinated. It was the silence which prompted his comrades to enter the interaction.

“Do you think you can walk?” Sir Wilson asked as he stepped forward – a movement barely acknowledged as the woman did not shift her gaze from Steven still.

“Wobble, perhaps,” she said, the corners of her lips briefly turning downwards. “Could perhaps one of you assist me? I should be most grateful for your chivalry.”

Sir Barnes could scoff at the absurdity of her wording; even as she suggested she would welcome anyone’s aid, her fixation on Steven was ridiculously evident. It almost scared him, how steadily she watched him; even as ladies’ interest in his best friend’s company had increased significantly along with how Steven’s muscles had grown, the way this woman observed him… unsettling him for some reason.

“Oh! We should borrow you the horse for a while-“ Sir Parker – bless him, the youngest and the purest of heart of them all – cried out, soon silenced by a more sombre voice of reason of Sir Barnes.

“Kid, you lose your leg should you put your weight on it now. Believe me, I have almost lost my arm to the same foolishness.”

“…oh.”

“Well, I suppose one of us should support you and walk you to your home,” Sir Barton suggested nonchalantly, preparing to dismount the horse. “The most experienced one of us, perhaps?”

“Truly? Is that so, Clinton?” Sir Wilson questioned as he eyed him, his tone carrying wryness of a man who would not care for nonsense – unless it was one that could earn him a great deal of fun. “Why you?”

“I have a pair of very well-working eyes for one,” the older man uttered, causing sir Maximoff to snicker silently.

“So do I and yet I would never offer!” Sir Lang opposed as soon as he understood the meanings behind Sir Barton’s words. “Must we remind you how inappropriate that would be, since you have a lovely wife and three kids at home?”

“And a knee that knows a rain is coming at least two sunsets ahead?” Sir Barnes added for honestly, the foolishness of Sir Barton’s idea battled the one of the youngling’s.

“Ugh, alright then. Spoilsports.”

Sir Maximoff, unsurprisingly, grinned and shrugged as he stepped forward. “Ah, well, fellas, it seems-“

“I can do it. I can even carry her.”

Sir Barnes sighed, an involuntary reaction to best of comrades choosing this moment to snap from his reverie. Speaking of foolishness.

Not once had Steven’s gaze left the beautiful woman since the very moment he had laid his eyes on her, almost as if he was drawn by ancient power whose pull not even his virtuous heart could resist. The pull had been literal too; while the movements had been subtle, step by step Steven inched closer to the woman, now standing barely three feet from her, way too close even as he had been the first to spring forward.

Sir Barnes would be amazed and certainly more than amused at his friend’s antics, had it not been for the fact the scene was as fascinating as disconcerting. For a myriad of reasons. Beginning with-

“You are injured as well,” Sir Wilson noted pointedly.

Sir Wilson appeared to be the only of the men aside from Sir Barnes who had not lost all reason in the midst of all of them having acquired an expression of awe and smugness. In all fairness, the reaction of the knights was nothing short of understandable, for Steven, Sir Rogers, who had kept from many women who had been rather literally battling for his attention, seemed enamoured all of sudden. And of all creatures, enamoured by a beautiful, yet the most ordinary of women. He appeared if not utterly lost to the fabled love at first sight, then certainly lost enough to abandon all reason.

“Oh no, if you are severely injured, I could not possibly-“ the woman resisted, gathering her skirt in attempt to stand up as if to prove she was considerably less inconvenienced by absence of aid than it had originally appeared.

Naturally, her efforts were doomed to failure – and just as naturally, Steve had been there to catch her, promptly supporting her weight. She had barely caught herself, one palm flat against his chest, the other on his bicep, lips parted in silent surprise; and much to the amusement of all knights, in awe of his strength.

Sir Rogers was certainly not the only one of the pair who appeared smitten.

“Thank you, good Sir.”

“Sir Steven Rogers, my lady. I should be happy to aid you,” he pronounced, the words ‘with anything’ unsaid but clearly implied as he helped her straighten up as much as her own injury allowed. “I have not been injured severely. Worry not.”

Needless to say, Sir Barnes would argue; bruised ribs, several cuts, more so when one of them sat right above his brow, should be considered severe enough not to carry a woman in his arms… particularly when these injuries were coupled with a heavy blow to the head. Before, Sir Barnes had not been sure how strong of a hit Steven had taken, but now, seeing how absent of any common sense Steven was-

Ah. His best friend was being quite himself, now that Sir Barnes thought of it.

“…so we are to ignore there are at least three better candidates whose ribs are not bruised or-“ Peter muttered in low voice to his companions, all but earning a warning slap to his healthy leg as Sir Lang gently shushed him, himself charmed by the romantic ballad-worthy scene in front of them.

“Seeing as she does, I suppose we do too,” Sir Maximoff scoffed lowly, tilting his head to side as he observed his comrade, suddenly frowning, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And so does he. Is he alright? He looks… strange. Has any of you put something in his water?”

“You are saying this as if you were not as miffed about him being chosen by her as I am,” Sir Barton huffed, sourness turning into humour at the other man’s misery.

Pietro’s gaze torn away from the pair, their downright love-sick gazes suddenly difficult to watch; it almost felt as if by looking at them, they were prying on an intimate moment. Pietro thought it curious, for he had never had any issues of laughing loud at the displays of affection his fellow knights had offered in the Tower tavern for everyone to see, but he did not want to examine it too hard. He could find joy elsewhere once they had made it to the city, with no shortage of ladies no doubt willing to offer comfort to the heroes of Starkerbürg.

“He is one lucky bastard,” he sighed, patting the horse’s neck, preparing to take off.

“And lucky he might get…” Sir Wilson sing-sang quietly, causing the group to laugh as their gazes once again appreciated the almost palpable spark between the unlikely couple, exchanging knowing glances as the woman gasped when Steven sneaked his arms under her knees and back, lifting her into his arms with ease despite his gear weighting him down.

“Alright, it is settled. We are certain you are safe with Sir Rogers…” Sir Barton called out, entirely ignored by the pair who instead kept observing one another without as much as a blink, as if they could not bear losing even a fraction of the precious time they were given. “For he is-- they are not even listening to me, are they? No one cares about me anymore, I truly must be getting old-”

Sir Barnes sighed again, realization dawning to him; one he should never share with his companions, but one he would for certain inquire about later when Steven returned to the castle.

“We shall move then,” he muttered, beckoning others towards the road, not before sparing the couple a last slightly disapproving glance.

He feared not for his most precious friend’s safety; he only feared for his heart, too big even for the impressive size his body had grown into since his early days as a weakling. At the moment, it was his mind Bucky feared for, since it almost seemed feeble under a spell of a beautiful woman. A spell no one dared to break.

As the group walked away, each of their steps was uncharacteristically silent; until they believed to reach enough of a distance to have a boisterous laugh about Sir Rogers no doubt to be rewarded for his chivalry. The sound bothered not the pair as they smiled at each other softly, the woman’s thumb brushing over Steven’s sternum, covered by worn chainmail.

The simple touch seemed to reach his soul; his breathing, having already eased since he had first caught her, cleared completely, the ache in his bones gone. The woman’s smile widened, silently prompting Steven to start walking. He was not one to hesitate, his feet moving almost of their own volition.

“You are not obliged to carry me,” she said, a teasing note lacing her gentle voice. “I slowed the landing enough. It is nothing but a bruise.”

Steven shook his head, appearing as if he was barely holding back a grin. “But I must, my lady. It is my duty as a knight of Starkerbürg.”

She pursed her lips, one corner lifting in a smirk.

“Oh? Is it so, my good sir? Hm... speaking of knights of Starkerbürg, Sir Rogers,” she emphasized, a playful spark appearing in her eye, “your friends act like children.”

Undignified for a knight for certain – yet who was he to diminish the already scraped reputation of men who truly unsubtly jested about him taking advantage of the very woman in distress he was to help – Steven snorted.

“Don’t I know it.”

“But Samuel might not be wrong…“ she said, voice equally full of amusement and promise. “Set me down, Steven. You must be tired.”

Tired he was not. Not ever since he had met the woman’s eyes moments ago and recognized their beauty and depth as familiar. But who was he to deny a lady?

And a lady she was, for all she was and was not. They might have jested about it together, but in Steven’s mind, she was precisely that and nothing less, no matter what any half-wit of this kingdom would think. Slowly, he lowered her back to her feet, his heart thundering in his ribcage in anticipation as he focused on the sounds surrounding them.

Content with only gentle whisper of the wind and songs of robins for a company, his worn hands cradled the woman’s cheeks, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones, heart trembling when she leaned into his touch, her lips brushing his palm.

In return, the tips of her fingers ghosted over his brow, the nasty cut closing at once, without a single sting of pain. She focused on that aspect often, even as she knew he would try and not as much as flinch for her benefit, much like he had not when she healed his ribs earlier.

“Thank you. They must be far enough now, I am sure,” he whispered, stepping closer so their bodies aligned and nearly merged in one. “Do not hide from me, bosorka moja. Let me see you, beautiful.”

Her smile turned a little coy, even as her soul sang at his sweet words. Steven was quite a master of compliments; but not a shameless flirt or a rake. What he said always came from heart; that beautiful, beautiful heart he had sworn belonged to her and never made her question it despite their situation.

“As you wish, good sir,” she whispered, fingertips sliding down his cheekbone, repairing the darkening bruising in their wake, before she turned focus on her own transformation. “Close your eyes, love, release me for just a moment.”

With a sigh of disappointment – but eager to oblige – Steven lifted his hands an inch, missing the lovely heat under his touch at once, and let his eyes slide close. Soft light caressed his skin, flickering behind his closed eyelids as her features shifted, her cloaking spell dispersing.

Steven did not fight the smile tugging at his lips as he allowed himself to open his eyes again just as the glow was dying out, welcomed by the sight of his beloved in her true face. The spell she had casted changed her features but a bit, only enough to protect her from those who would still hunt her upon mere suspicion of her being a magical creature. She appeared just as human as before; but should a half-wit still nursing grudges against magic even century and half since its dark side caused people to suffer ever recognize her as anything else… Steven did not wish to imagine what hell would have been raised; even as it would have been one he would fight to death against.

Indeed, she appeared human even in her true form to most, Steven assumed. Yet, to him, she appeared almost ethereal; she always had. From the very moment she had walked into his life and took his world by gentle storm, slowly nursing him back to health day by day from multiple wounds which would have been his doom. She had risked her own life in process, revealing her talents to anyone, let alone a knight of Starkerbürg, but for a good deed, she had barely even hesitated.

Beautiful, powerful, brave and endlessly kind; and now, by the blessing of gods, even as Steven failed to be a proper gentleman, his.

He let his fingers slide into her hair, tilting her face up to feast his eyes on her features, heart humming pleasantly as only a person who owned it could make it hum.

It was clearer than the skies that she felt just the same. Drawing him close, not waiting for his prompting, she rose to her tiptoes and brushed his lips with hers, sweet and healing. No cut was there for her to fix, but it appeared that whenever she kissed him, even with no magic involved as she had claimed, Steven’s often weary soul was lifted.

He followed her lips, earning a hearty chuckle but no protest, a hand on his nape as her fingers curled in his hair as well.

“Bosorka moja,” he said softly against her lips before tasting them again, greedy for every stolen moment, every stolen kiss she was willing to give him.

And she would give him a lifetime, much like he would give his own to her.

But there was not a single reason to do it right where they stood. One more peck to his lips and she escaped his arms sneakily, only to grab at his hand with both of hers, tugging him down the now familiar path.

“Come, rytier moj.”

And so he followed her, without a word of protest. He would follow his heart anywhere.

Their destination was by no means far, they were in no rush. Unbeknownst to Sir Barnes, his thoughts had been precisely on point – the pair of lovers cherished every moment spent together, may it be walking with purpose or wandering.

This day, they chose the former, the hut soon appearing in a barely-there clearing among the trees. Steve’s lips curled in a smile on instinct as despite the humble outside state of the tiny house, he knew what he would find upon entering with his love and lover by his side. A home. Not only hers; theirs. A safe space for their love.

As soon as they entered, the air smelling of herbs and dried meadow flowers, ones he had picked and gifted her the last time he had escaped his knight-bound duties, hit his nostrils and widened his smile. It was met with her own, soft and welcoming, heartbreakingly beautiful; ache echoed in his heart, its emptiness present for the past few days without her suddenly dissolving into nothing.

He brought her hand to his lips, a gentle kiss to her knuckles before releasing her, so they could begin their routine.

From the mountains Wind, dust and defiance is rising I lay your armour to your feet Don’t let my skin get cold at night

Wind from the mountains

Wind, dust and defiance is rising I lay my armour to your feet Don’t let my skin get cold at night

You made your way to the pot, a simple curl of your wrist lighting up a fire to heat the water for tea. Steven’s gaze followed you as he stood by the door, blindly unclasping his belt, putting away his sword and chainmail. He had no need for weapons nor armour in his home; vulnerability in this house was no sign of weakness, but one of strength. It was a privilege he took upon proudly as you were blissfully aware.

Then, you ruminated through your dried herbs in search of chamomile and lavender, even as you knew the exact placement of every single item; once you heard Steven lose his armour and step forward, you looked over your shoulder, offering an unassuming smile – despite assuming quite a lot from the many encounters you had shared before.

“Tea, my love?”

Like clockwork, like the most beautiful habit, you barely got the chance to speak the question before he stood behind you, fingers cradling your chin, angling your head further to meet your lips again, an indulgent smile tasting indulgent smile as neither of you ever believed a tea was to be served. Not yet at least.

Where your first shared kiss after days of being apart tasted of longing, relief and soft smiles, this one tasted of feelings much more primal. Your breath hitched in the briefest surprise at the intensity, yet you responded in earnest, shifting to accommodate his large body, your hands finding purchase of his broad shoulders as soon as you spun around. He rewarded your cooperation with enthusiasm; you yielded to his force with a breathy laugh once he allowed you to retrieve the air he so lovingly stole from your lungs.

“No tea then?”

A hand previously grasping at your hips wrapped around your back to pull you to his chest, three steps leading you to walk backwards until your back brushed the makeshift table, Steven’s lips as urgent as sweet, his beard scratching at your sensitive skin, each breath tickling your lips.

“Would rather drink from your lips, love,” he whispered to your mouth, the only chance for both of you to breathe in before his lips returned. His hold tightened to ground you against his advances, trapping you in a cage of love you could have easily escaped should you wish; yet, you only withdrew for a moment, a cheeky retort on your tongue as your need for him grew with every touch.

“That could be arranged, I believe.”

Glancing up, you were met with his darkened eyes, his hand firm as he held onto your jaw; and yet, his thumb caressed your skin gently, the desire blending into softness and amusement at your bold demeanour. You lifted one corner of your lips in a smirk, gasping when his mouth possessed yours again, teeth tugging at your lower lip, his arm still holding onto your waist – the only thing keeping you from practically laying on the table, his hips pining yours against the hard surface, fingers squeezing your flesh.

Now there was a thought; Steve’s weight rendering you weightless as he’d coax peak after peak from your body laid on the dark wood as an offering to Gods at an altar…

The very thought, however, was fast to dissolve as Steven’s hips rocked into yours, allowing you to feel the outline of his burning need, having you clutch at his shirt as friction teased your throbbing core. He swallowed the needy noise he elicited from your lips, fingers slipping under your shirt, thumb pressing into your skin just above your hipbone as to guide your movements.

You shuddered upon his lips travelling down the column of your throat, teeth grazing skin alongside the hem of your shirt above your collarbone; your hands began their own quest over the hard planes of his body, appreciative of his truly impressive physique. Steven’s fingers roamed as well, caressing and squeezing, your given name but a breathy whisper when his fingertips stroked the underside of your breasts.

You nearly missed his words due to the blissful sensation, but you had heard the silent plea spoken so many times before there was no mistaking it.

“Dance for me, my love?”

Your swollen lips curled in a playful smile as his fingers carded through your hair, kiss brushing your cheek and jaw and finally your mouth again.

“Oh? Is that what you wish for, lover mine?”

His gaze followed the patterns his fingertips whispered over your face as if they were brushes painting the most precious canvas, a curious contradiction to his eager kisses and hardness.

“Would you hold it against me?” he inquired in a hushed voice, stealing yet another kiss from your waiting lips, his nose gently caressing yours before his gaze bore into yours with intensity again, “that I wish to see something so beautiful and so alive after a battle?”

The amusement slipped from your face, features softening as your heart sored at the subtle confession. The knights of Starkerbürg were full of jest and gestures so great they might border on insanity when situation allowed it. Their bravery was a thing of legends, as much of a legend as the thing you knew they had gone to fight days ago and were only now returning, having bested a mythical creature much more vicious and deadly than yourself, crushing life with not more than one bite to a man’s flesh.

Yet, for all their heroism, even knights, even the most precious of them all – even your Steven – felt the disarming fear of death itself, cruel and all too powerful. You would be always be more than willing to remind him of the power of life for a change, until you’d release yours with your last breath.

Ad so the answer was no – no, you would not hold it against him, whatever he would ask. Never him.

Standing on your tiptoes, framing his face with your hands, his whiskers and already messy hair ticking your palms, you told him as much, sealing your deal with a kiss.

Easing his grip, he allowed you to push against chest, easily giving in as you lead him to walk backwards until his calves hit the frame of your bed. He sat down obediently and you leaned into him, stealing another brief peck.

“Please, bosorka moja,” he pleaded once more as your forehead touched his, taking a moment to breathe him in, reminding yourself that both you indeed were still alive; and thus, such victory should be celebrated with joys life itself provided. “Dance for me, my love.”

Smiling, you placed a finger over his lips to shush him at last, gliding several steps back, mischief appearing in your eyes as his own followed your every movement hungrily, more so when you slipped out of your shawl, the shirt far from brushing the waist of the skirt suddenly hanging low on your hips, providing Steve with a silver of skin of your stomach.

There was no music but the howl of the wind carrying the occasional note by chaffinches and dunnocks and rustles of leaves. Yet, an old old melody echoed in your heart, guiding your movements and filling you with power and confidence of all witches that came before you and enchanted men into giving away their kingdom without as much as a fleeting thought, surrendering their strength and their hearts, all that only to be blessed with a single sinful glance, a single touch of magic as old as humanity itself. For a single drop of passion.

You could feel it fill the air, the longing and thirst for life and body, your lover’s eyes turning dark, hypnotized by the simple swirls of your wrists above your head, at your sides, following every slide of the back of your hands over your ribs, over your bare skin, his visceral need to replace your touch with his own. Drinking in but the smallest motions of your hips, breath hitching at the briefest tilt of your head back or to side, his lips tingling to attach themselves to the exposed skin of your throat, to taste, to suck a bruise. The force with which his fists curled into themselves seemed to ignite sparkles in the air, bringing a sensual smile to your lips as you let your eyes slip shut, feeling the energy hum louder when you moved closer; a sweet thunder within you, within Steve, all around you.

The thud of Steve’s knees on the floor came with his hands grasping your hips; needy but not firm, only to feel the slow movements of your hips and allow you to continue swinging freely. You released a breath, head tipping backwards as Steve’s hot lips found the now burning skin of your stomach, nosing his way up an inch at a time, beard tickling, an open-mouthed kiss following and causing you to shudder – with pleasure, with overwhelming power.

“Steven-“

“Keep dancing, bosorka moja,” he hummed into your skin with a pleased smile, teeth grazing over your belly button as if to distract you from his rough but deft fingers slipping under the waist on your skirt, inching it lower and lower until it hit the floor. Cold air brushed over your bare core, Steven’s lips trailing to the junction of your thigh, his smile growing wicked. “I shall help you dance.”

The very first flicker of his tongue over your pearl had you stutter in your movements, a whimper leaving your lips as Steven’s fingers dug deep into your flesh of your sides and thighs, a wordless warning not to cease the dance he had pleaded for. With a shudder of a breath, you willed yourself to continue, naturally rocking onto his hot tongue as it swept over your weeping core with indulgence, stars flashing behind your closed eyelids at the contrast of the slick muscle to the scrapes his beard left behind.

“Steven-“

“Shhh,” your lover whispered, the sound gentle and teasing at once, the pleasant vibration against your sensitive flesh causing your fingers to find way into his hair and grip, only earning another appreciative hum. “Keep dancing, love.”

And so you did. Leaning into the affection so willingly offered, you succumbed to a different kind of dance. Fingers flexing in Steven’s hair upon a particularly smart swirl of his tongue, breathless praise, calls to Gods and desperate pleas for more more more spilling from your lips. Meeting his ministrations without shame; guiding him, opening up for him as the liquid fire of pleasure spread through your veins, turning into an inferno when you found your thigh on his shoulder, completely out of your doing, an instinct to chase relief – but thoroughly appreciated as Steven’s arm circled your bottom, pulling you impossibly close and loving you deep enough to set you on fire entirely.

You let the primal hunger consume you as you climbed to your peak, crying out when you reached it, head spinning from the intensity; waves of bliss washed over you, body pliant and relaxed. You shrieked when you suddenly found yourself losing your footing, for a brief moment frustratingly empty and cold; and then you were spread on the table, your lover’s lips wrapped around your bundle of nerves, burning blue gaze swallowed by lust firmly set on your face as two thick fingers entered you, latching onto the last aftershocks of your peak. You reached a second high with dizzying speed, unable to tear your gaze away from your giving – and so, so wicked – lover. Gods could possess you at that moment and you would have not felt as if you ascended to such heights as you had while indulging on Earthly pleasures with him.

A soft trail of kisses and pets soothed you as you came down, a breathless chuckle bleeding into a sob when you noticed few of your possessions floating in the air, your magic quite literally having exploded outside of you.

Steven’s lips curled into a smile against your jaw and then you were tasting your essence – as well his much-satisfied grin – on your tongue, revelling in the warm weight of his body covering yours. It seemed your Steven had a few magic tricks up his sleeve too, mind-reading being one of them. You smiled into the kiss, using your grip on his hair to pull him even closer. He could never be close enough; and as he stood between your spread legs, his hard bulge brushing against your bare core, his lips and hands eager, you were certain he felt just the same.

“So beautiful for me,” he whispered to your mouth before retreating, darkened eyes sparkling with lust and pride as well as affection.

“And yours,” you hummed, fingers raking through his beard appreciatively, chuckling when fresh hunger flashed in his pupils. Oh how possessive your knight could be… how much joy it brought you to tease him. “Should I show you?”

A breathy yes was your only answer and so you gripped his shirt, using the fabric for leverage to you sit up. You kissed him again, hands sliding under his garments, gliding over his stomach, your magic flowing freely and healing whichever injuries you had missed earlier.

Easily ridding him of his shirt and pants in between sweet encounters of lips and shedding your clothes as well, you wrapped your legs around his waist, a faint whisper of ‘bed’ enough to have him pick you up without protest; on contrary, with quite the enthusiasm since his hardness throbbed when you led him to sit down with you in his lap.

“Missed you… love you… need you,” you confessed, his breathy voice echoing your sentiments as your lips brushed over every patch of his skin in reach, fingers wrapping around him and guiding him inside you, bliss surrounding you both when you finally sank yourself down his length in one fluid movement.

You rested your forehead against his and simply breathed, living in the moment of utter bliss; a different kind, not the almost primitive one, no, not the wild one. This moment belonged to serenity. Sharing air and warmth with your lover, tender hands appreciating the wide planes of his muscles, strength radiating from flesh and soul alike. And love. Always love.

As if he was able to read your mind once more, his lips sought out yours, a declaration of love indeed, simple, honest and unyielding. His thumb gently traced the pattern of your tattoo, its ink reaching from behind your ear over the side on your neck, a swirl over your left collarbone and spreading over your shoulder. I love you as you are, for all you are, his touch whispered even as no sound left his lips. And even if you felt no shame for your nature, your Steven’s acceptance caressed your soul as did his diligence; not once he had forgotten his ritual of reminding you that with him, your existence was not merely tolerated – but adored and celebrated. When you first understood the significance of this habit of his, tears had stung your eyes, kissed away before they could roll down your cheeks.

“Ľúbim ťa,” you had breathed out then, a love confession in the old language, and ever since, you had not failed to say it once in response to his gesture.

Then, rough fingertips carefully followed the line of a fine silver chain carrying a tear-shaped indigo sapphire, a token of affection usually hidden from plain sight, protected; a promise of faithfulness even as you remained unwed. You had no need for gemstones, but you understood its importance, the significance of the gesture; it made for your heart warm and safe upon its possession and for Steven’s heart lighter a pound of the burden of your circumstance.

Your circumstance was not one of the simple ones, a forbidden love one might say; in which you were the only forbidden thing. Forbidden to even live, let alone love or be loved; an abomination to some. A magic wielder, no doubt seducing the most honourable with her dark powers, for what other reason could be there for him to take liking in you? It mattered not that there was less than a little true to it, that your bond was of much purer nature, as common and as human as the blood you drew from your own veins to cast protection spells over your beloved. True did not matter. Should you reveal your relationship now, Steven would have been painted a victim; and you would have lived no more.

An easy circumstance yours was not at all; but your dedication to each other was to conquer all troubles. And in the meantime, you shall have moments of serenity and of passion, of you and him.

The smallest shift of Steven’s hand pulled from your thoughts, breath hitching when his fingers slid an inch lower, brushing over your nipple. Your hips buckled on instinct, drawing a groan from your lover’s lips, a grip on your bottom encouraging you to move.

Who were you to deny pleasure to you both?

Smiling, you withdrew, index finger covering Steve’s lips as he tried to follow, a discontent furrow to his brow. You tilted your head, thumb brushing over his swollen lips.

“Would you like me to dance still, lover mine?” you inquired teasingly, his disapproval at your actions wiped away in an instant, replaced by fire in his eyes.

Gentle flames of affection battled those of desire, his warm palm caressing over your lower cheeks, before he snapped you impossibly close, causing you to gasp – and to question who it was who had the upper hand here. Your hand fell to his chest, his heart beating wildly under your palm, an answer of its own.

Both then. It seemed you were both on top and simultaneously under the other’s thumb. Such a beautiful thing.

“Would you, bosorka moja?”

Your smile grew, lips attaching to his once more and planning to remain for as long as possible, first careful rock of your hips the first step to reach for the stars – together this time.

“Oh Steven… for my honourable knight? For you, my love? With pleasure…”

An absent smile played on Steve’s lips, his fingers running up and down your arm, appreciating the softness and warmth of your skin. An air of comfort and contentedness hovered around you as he held you close, fast asleep in his arms, cheek pressed to his chest as if the very sound of his heart against your ear lulled you to peaceful slumber.

Despite the sweetness of the idea, Steve felt his brows furrow in concern. While as he was perfectly happy to serve as a pillow for his beautiful lover, aware there was barely any greater expression of trust than a shared sleep, worry seized him for this occurrence was beyond rare. He once asked whether your incredible magic was an effortless as you made it seem, met with a weary chuckle and a kind, if a little condescending smile and a confession that if seen weak, your kind would have been an easy prey. Having understood he had taken your answer as a testimony to the lack of trust you had laid in him, you had also admitted that while the teachings of your ancestors had been deeply ingrained in your instincts, part of your reluctance to show your weakness to him was precisely what weighted his conscience just now. You simply could not be bothered to make him fret too much.

The fact you had let sleep take you alone was truly worrisome and Steve pondered just how exhausted you must have been. Even as the fresh memory of your breathless pleas for more and the cries of pleasure as you rode him till you both tasted heaven were nothing short of precious to him, he could not but wonder whether he was taking too much; your magic healing his wounds, your body a sanctuary to his love and fears.

Perhaps he had. But who could ever blame him?

Steven had never known a woman like this – unafraid to give, just as unshy to take; one or the other, but never like this. He had fallen for you and had fallen hard, body and soul. Yes, should anyone call him selfish, they would not be wrong, because Gods, did he take what he craved and lusted – and yet. Yet, every moment with you felt ethereally right as your still unconscious form drifted closer, almost as if you sensed his thoughts and wished for them to evaporate. And so far, they always had, dissolved in your easy smile when you refused his offer and plea to come with him; to bring you to the castle with him so he could give as well, give more, provide and protect and worship you in his home, your new home, true home where you would not have to hide in the middle of the woods like some sort of an abomination.

It is not the time yet, my love. It will come, you would always say, washing away his guilt with a sweet kiss and a promise. One day. One day I shall come with you and we should be unabashedly happy with no fear, free to be you and me.

He had let your words and touch sooth him, always; but not today. Your body having melted into his had his protective instinct flare up, determination set in his very heart. He should convince you today, to make you his and him yours as two people in love deserved. He shall make an honest woman of you in the eyes of the whole kingdom at last. It was what you were worthy of, for you were worthy of anything and everything. And with you… he believed he deserved the same. He could not stand it anymore. Parting ways with you, only to hope for your next stolen moment to come the very minute after he had left. He could no longer bear you existing so close and yet so far out of his reach.

No, he shall convince you today, insist more than ever. He wanted this, he wished for nothing more than to lay to sleep like this every night, with you. You deserved it. You deserved the world and he shall lay it to your feet, for his honour and his benefit at once.

Any other day, you would have berated yourself for having fallen asleep; but knowing the changes your body was going through, weariness settling in sooner than it used to, it only brought a smile to your face when you found yourself waking to Steven’s tender fingers carding through your hair.

The night was slowly falling. Wandering the woods in darkness would have been an unnecessary risk for anyone, even for a skilled knight with your protective spell over him; your lover was more than aware of it and still, you could tell it pained him to bring you out of your slumber nevertheless. It was no feat to kiss his guilt away, smiles adorning your faces, noses caressing, hands wandering, nearly leading you back into the clutches of lust.

He sat patiently on your bed now, half dressed as you took your blade, his eyes following your every move with more attention than ever as he absently sipped chamomile tea; he found himself deep in thought, such was obvious. It was not difficult to guess where his mind had trailed off to, for it had always been the same.

His voice was soft when he spoke the words, a soft wrinkle on his forehead as your cut your finger and stood between his spread legs.

“Come with me.”

A sad smile played in the corner of your lips as your heart fluttered at his plea, one he never failed to deliver, even as your sigh must have sounded weary every time.

“I cannot. Not yet.”

Steven was no half-wit, which was more than could said about many of the people of Starkerbürg. He knew precisely why you could not come; why you never could, at least not yet. Magic was still forbidden – as if it was a choice, as if one could choose to stop breathing and still live – hated for the pain and destruction the dark twisted witches and sorcerers had once left in their wake, misusing magic to spread fear and suffering. It was not just that all magic wielders were still paying the price for what their ancestors had done. It was even less just that you, not having done any harm unless you needed to escape imminent danger to your life, should live a hermit life, too far from your love and lover. Yet it was how times were, still.

But you were no fool either. You could feel Steven’s uneasiness growing heavier every time he left without you, for it went against his very nature, against the need to keep you close, to hold you, to love – to protect you from harm. You had no doubt he would lay his life for you. You could not allow him to do that, not when the time was finally growing near for your love to be cherished as any other, time for your kind to be free. You must not lose him to rushed foolishness. He was no longer only yours to lose.

“I would protect you,” he promised, steely conviction in his husky voice.

As sweet as the sentiment was, you could not but smirk, a knowing gaze reminding him that should the situation require it, you could very well protect yourself, even as your true gift – the one special talent every magic wielder had, naturally developed with barely any practice – was of the healing kind. Should you truly wished, you could burn villages with terrifying ease; gods knew sorcerers and sorceresses had done this and more with a single snap of their fingers.

Steve took no offence in your teasing gaze; but the determination in his own remained unshaken as you begun to draw the protective symbol over his sternum.

“The time is yet come for people to understand the blessings of magic again, for its light to outshine the darkness it had sowed,” you reasoned, as much as it pained you. “The time shall come soon, I promise. It is simply not today, my love.”

Long fingers circled your wrist, gentle but firm, having you cease your movement, your gaze meeting the brilliant blue roaming over your face.

“I miss you. All days, all nights. I-“ he paused, licking his lips, a shadow of hurt passing over his face. “Don’t you?”

Your heart soared, a sigh leaving your lips. Steven was not easy on you today; but your conviction and determination was just as strong as his. You had to be brave and so did he. A few days longer, that would be all you needed. The right time would come. You were certain of it, even as it was nothing but a whisper of intuition in the back of your mind. Wait, the voice said, the time grows near, but you must wait.

“Do not do this, rytier moj,” you scolded Steven, letting gentleness seep into your voice. “It does not suit you. You must know I love you. I miss you too. And I worry. All days. All nights. Therefore…”

You wiggled your fingers, Steven’s shoulders sagging as he released you, an exasperated pout to his lips – unjustly adorable – as you resumed your work. You smiled widely despite your unnerving circumstance; he would give you anything and everything. The knowledge of this, having been reminded by every little gesture, every word he spoke, made for the warmest feeling in your soul.

Content with your handiwork as you drew the last spiral, you had to swallow a chuckle when Steven’s brows furrowed in confusion, head bowing, eyes flickering over the unfamiliar pattern. A triskele instead of a simple two-headed spiral. A symbol speaking more words than your knight could ever imagine in his wildest dreams, you supposed.

“It’s different.”

Shrugging, you withdrew your hand, calling to your magic to finish the ritual.

“You always draw two spirals connected…” Steve continued, eyes growing large and curious.

“I do”, you agreed softly.

He observed you, intrigued. He had once said he might not understand your power, but he swore he would always try. He would not dare to question your rituals, but you could almost feel how fast his thoughts whirled in a frantic search for an answer. The ritual had remained the same, always, countless times, over and over… why would you steer from it today of all days? What was its significance? What had changed?

Oh Steven. Your sweet, sweet Steven… if he only knew.

“You always say it is about love. The unity of us. You and me,” he said slowly and you nodded, unable to contain your joy any longer, eyes surely glimmering.

“Yes. Our love, you and me. Unity of two.”

His eyes, roaming your face in silent question still, suddenly widened, flickering down and snapping back up as the realization dawned on him, leaving his lips slightly parted.

You simply shrugged, a chuckle shaking your chest, while guilt already began to gnaw at your conscience. You should have not told him, not yet. But how could you have kept it for yourself? How could you have denied yourself a little indulgence, even when knowing nothing could change just yet? You simply wished to see him learn your sweet secret, yours and his, even if for a moment, see he was equally elated.

Your knight did not disappoint you, not that you believed he ever could. His face was a perfect blend of shock and delight, radiating joy and hope and shame and sadness in equal amount as he stammered, shaky hand reaching out to carefully brush his fingers over your belly showing no signs of the treasure growing inside yet.

“You- are you—are we? Oh gods-“ And then, as you predicted, his expression shifted in an instant, determination taking deep root. “Then you must come with me. Allow me to take care of you, to-“

Satisfied and aching at once, you promptly shushed him with your still bloody finger to his lips. A single tear rolled down your cheek; a testimony to happiness, reassured anew of your lover’s goodness and dedication to you. To your family. The wonder, the glimmer of hope and the conviction in Steven’s expression would stay with you till you could grant him his wish.

“The time has not yet come, my love. I share your joy. And your worry,” you whispered through the tightness of your throat, even as a smile adorned your lips. Your finger drew a small cross over his mouth despite the pain it caused you. You had had your moment – and that had to be enough for now. “I am sorry, rytier moj. But you shall not remember this, not yet.”

Before he could as much as take a breath, you withdrew your hand, the symbols on his chest and lips disappearing with a soft glow. Disoriented, your knight blinked, steadying himself by the hand on your hip even as he remained seated.

With a shaky inhale you composed yourself before he could, leaning forward and planting a tender kiss on his lips, fingers raking through his hair. His hand cradled your jaw, adoring.

“Be careful,” you spoke against his lips, earning another small peck.

“Always.”

You retreated with a huff, shaking your head as you went to find an ointment you knew his friend would soon need.

“You speak as if I did not know you, Steven. A basilisk chimera’s teeth three inches from your throat, I heard? Careful indeed.”

His smile was sheepish as he rose to his full height, tying the top of his shirt before reaching for the garments you had so hastily rid him of earlier.

“I always try. The idea that should I fail, I shall never see you again… it can be quite a motivation,” he sweet-talked, succeeding just a bit in softening your exasperation.

Perhaps the vision of him dutifully putting on his armour, making his frame appear even larger – and protected – calmed you further.

“Well, Steven, try harder,” you snipped, pressing a tiny pot into his hand, earning a raised brow. “And take this to Peter, the wound on his leg was already turning foul. And this…”

You reached for a salve you had prepared for when a wave of nausea had taken you by surprise, dipped your finger in the dark substance and carefully patted it over Steven’s brow where his cut had been. You did not expect Steven to feel nauseous – after all he was not the one carrying a new life under his heart – but the colour was convenient. A cut healing so rapidly would have casted a dangerous suspicion on whoever he had interacted with – or worse, on Steven himself. You could not have that.

He observed you softly as you tended to him, adding a small tap where a bruise had begun to form earlier on his cheekbone. He did not utter a word until you were satisfied with your work. Once your hands fell to your sides, his own framed your face, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your nose and finally your mouth again, a bittersweet goodbye.

“Always so meticulous and careful… always so good. Taking care of me, of my friends…” he mused, breathing you in one last time, hovering, hesitating more than usual. Almost, almost as if your spell had not worked and he still knew. As if he still knew precisely what he was leaving behind this time. “Take care of the person most precious to me too? Until I come back again?”

There might be two of those for you now, you thought, the memory of his delight flashing in your mind, bringing a smile to your lips as you nuzzled into his touch and kissed his palm.

Looking up at his face, you echoed his own reassurance. “Always.”

With one last kiss and hearts as heavy as light, you declared your love to each other. You walked him out quietly, watching him disappear between the trees, his gaze turning to you several times, always finding you standing at the doorstep of his true home, a tender smile on your lips.

Once he was out of sight, you released a sigh, hand settling over your belly, a tear stinging in your eye despite the corners of your lips having been turn upwards.

Yes. The time was yet to come for the people to see again the blessings of magic. For now… the blessing of love already bloomed and it was enough.

Očaruj mě (a fic with the same pairing in the same universe)

S.R. masterlist - contains other knight!Steve fics, independent of this one

Complete masterlist

Yes, I’m mixing symbols, I know… do I care? Nope.

Terms of endearment/addressing used from Slovak language: bosorka moja = witch mine rytier môj = knight mine ľubim ťa = I love you

Thank you for reading!💕 I wrote it in between really difficult exams in the ocourse of two months and it needed a LOT of editing afterwards too, so... feedback is, as always, appreciated 🥰

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #knight steve rogers #knight steve rogers x reader #knight steve rogers x you #knight steve rogers imagine #medieval au #fantasy au #fairy tale au #lemons #pomiluj me #anika ann

243 notes · View notes

antimonyandthyme · 2 months

Note

antimony do u have anything else from ur carcar tlou au?? just read it and i’m obsessed

anon thank you so much for inquiring about the tlou au... it brings me great joy to imagine carcar navigating a cordyceps infested world... put them into situations amirite?

drew comparisons with joel and ellie and carlos and oscar because both parties basically speedran the enemies to whatever-it-is-they-are-to-each-other-now course. joel would of course level the entire world for ellie. he has in fact, levelled the entire world for ellie, and i see carlos doing the same, because he has decided oscar is his to protect. except there's nothing special about the package. oscar isn't a cure. they're both just trying to survive.

in my head, just like joel, carlos picks oscar up by accident. not from any group, just by coincidence. magnets, right? oscar just has something carlos wants, and carlos is very good and dispatching infected. after max and charles, he thinks he's a little too good.

after max and charles, he also travels exclusively alone, but after bringing oscar back to his city, only to see the kid bury the one person he went back to the city for, carlos offers it up without thinking. hey, wanna come along with me? i'm not very good at taking care of people. in fact the last two people i travelled with, well. but i can't really leave you here, tear-tracks still wet on your face. charles would be very disappointed in me. so. wanna come along with me?

oscar of course says yes. anything to not be alone.

carlos doesn't talk much in the car rides, until oscar somehow manages to steal them more country music cds. then carlos talks, while oscar makes fun of his music tastes. but keeps stealing more country music cds.

of course, because the world hasn't changed and everyone is still fucked up, oscar gets taken. by whatever group, the fireflies, the seraphites. whatever it is, oscar gets taken. maybe over something as simple as jacking a car with a working cd player, after their old one breaks down.

there's a switch at the back of carlos's head. he didn't think it'd be so easy, but it is, to go from killing the infected to killing anyone who stands in between him and oscar. he pulls oscar out, unconscious but wondrously unharmed. carlos's body count of non-infected probably rivals that of the infected now. that's how many people he works his way through to reach oscar.

carlos doesn't say anything when oscar wakes up in the car. he'd forgotten to wipe the blood off his own face, before getting out of there in a hurry. oscar does it for him, wasting precious water so he can clean off carlos's brow.

this is what you get for liking country music so much, oscar says. carlos hears, i don't give a shit about what you've done, i'm staying with you.

and then they never speak of this incident again.

#athy texts #carcar #tlou au

28 notes · View notes

thebatshitcrazyfangirl · 1 year

Text

Sleep Of The Corrupt- Morpheus x Goddess!Reader

Hello all! Sorry for not posting in a while, I had some health issues and struggled to get back into my writing schedule. But I am back now!

Summary: “Sleep Of The Just” AU. While searching for your daughter, Elaina, you’re summoned and imprisoned by Roderick Burgess. Mistaking you for Death, he demands the resurrection of his son and other unworthy gifts. Instead of fulfilling his demands, you make him realize his horrific mistake.

TW: None really. Cosmic horror (heavily inspired by H. P. Lovecraft). Some fluff, some angst.

WC: 8.4k (Oof…)

Divider by: @firefly-graphics

“Ellie!” You shouted down the palace corridors and in every room, frantically scouring from top to bottom for your little girl- only to come up empty.

This wasn’t like her. Your daughter never ventured beyond Fiddler’s Green and the House of Secrets. No matter where she wandered, Elaina was always under the trusted supervision of dreams, while you and Morpheus tended to your realms and responsibilities.

An irritated huff heaved from your lips as you strode down another corridor. This stressful game of hide and seek was beyond exhausting. Alas, you and Morpheus have no choice but to play.

The abrupt sound of a slamming door clapped through the air like thunder, ascending into the rapid approach of Morpheus’s footsteps.

“Any sign of her?”

He shook his head. “None. The dreams and nightmares have found no sign. Even Jessamy has had little luck.”

“We’ve been searching for hours. How have we not found her?” You huffed in distress, wringing your hands as your thoughts spun in overwhelming worry.

If she was nowhere to be found, then wouldn’t that mean- No. Elaina couldn’t leave The Dreaming on her own… Not unless-

Your heart sank, crumbling into lifeless dust at the horrific possibility. Stressful tears glazed your eyes, lighting your nerves ablaze in a dreadful panic.

“Love, we’ll find her.” Hands warmer than sunshine caressed your shoulders in soothing circles. He pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. Effective as always, your body slowly relaxed in his arms; against all maternal intuition blaring like an alarm, begging you to search for your daughter. “It’s likely she just wandered off farther than usual.”

“Beyond a dream’s reach?” You muttered dejectedly into his coat. “What if she’s not even here?”

“That shouldn’t be possible unless she had an escort. Besides, where would she go if she had the chance?”

Your eyes grew wide. There was a realm Elaina was highly affiliated with, one she loved to visit every chance she could.

Your birthplace. The Waking World.

“How did we forget?” You grumbled, suddenly pulling yourself from the embrace.

“Forget what?”

Unlike Morpheus and his siblings, your divinity was gifted to you nearly two decades ago, after the former Goddess of Chaos passed her crown and abilities down to you. The succession ultimately stripped you of most of your mortal life; all except your loving parents.

“If she could go anywhere, would it not be The Waking World? To my parents?” You asserted, turning down the corridor in bolting strides.

You both knew how much your parents adored Elaina. Since the day she was born, they were instantly wrapped around her little finger. They spoiled her rotten and treated her like a princess, showering her with new toys and pretty dresses every chance they could.

There was rarely a weekend or holiday where they didn’t invite you and your family over for dinner, or offer to keep Elaina for sleepovers and day trips. (Perhaps to give you and Morpheus some ‘alone time’; hopefully resulting in more grandchildren, you theorized.)

“It’s a valid theory, but an unlikely one,” Morpheus argued as he caught up to your hurried pace. “My dreams are always watching over her. They would’ve noticed her leaving with an escort.”

“Maybe, maybe not. It’s still a possibility, and far more favorable than others.” You paused your pace and spun to face him; already expecting the heavy skepticism gracing his features.

“One hour. Allow me one hour to search my old home, while you continue the search here. Please,” you negotiated and pleaded with a desperate look in your glistening eyes. “For the sake of my sanity. Before we consider the very worst.”

Morpheus sighed in thought, considering every outcome of your plan.

As much as he loves and adores you, you were still the embodiment of Chaos. He couldn’t deny the potential havoc your mere presence could wreak on The Waking World. Even with your totems, which stabilize and hinder Chaos’s effects, it was still risky. Especially during a world war.

However, if you remained true to your word and wore your crown and pendant, an hour in The Waking World would hardly cause any impact.

“One hour, and not a moment more.”

You smiled in victory, launching yourself to the tips of your toes, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“I won’t be long.” You promised, before disappearing in a whirlwind of black fire.

You stood before your parents’ home, dark and eerily quiet; not a soul to be found.

Must be out at the tavern, or visiting a friend, you reckoned. An irritable groan rumbled in the back of your throat as you strode down the road with tears brimming in your eyes.

Every hope you had crumbled into dust. Your worst fear has come to fruition. Your little girl was missing; only protected by the Fates’ mercy, wandering whatever realm in careless adventure.

What if she’s hurt? What if I’m too late? What if-

Breathe.

You halted your feverish pace; standing in the gentle trajectory of a cool breeze. It whipped through the sleek satin of your crimson gown in flowing waves, effectively cooling you down.

It was oddly refreshing; recollective in a way. Your thoughts slowly simmered down into a hushed calm, refined to focus on your next move.

“Ellie!” A child’s voice echoed in the distance.

Your vitals halted, skipping several beats as your eyes bulged out of your skull. It couldn’t be, could it-

Your feet moved on their own, taking off into a violent sprint through poorly lit alleyways and side streets.

With every step, the distant, delighted giggles grew louder and clearer, filling the crisp air and echoing into the inky night. You rounded every corner frantically, chasing after the laughter like your life depended on it. Please be her, you prayed. Please be her…

The series of small streets led you straight to the laughing culprits- two young girls swinging on a swing set in a park. Of tangled midnight and sunshine tresses you could instantly pick out of a lineup.

You could finally breathe, praising all the stars in the sky that your daughter was safe. You should’ve known Shivering Jemmy was watching over her, upholding her role as Elaina’s self-sworn protector. The little Lord of Chaos has never left her side since she was born, destined to be her partner in crime from the very beginning.

“Where did you find this place? It’s amazing!” Jemmy exclaimed, thrusting her legs forward to swing higher.

“My grandma brought me here when I stayed over last week,” Elaina said, kicking a rock with her filthy slipper from under her lavender nightgown, thickly caked in mud and grass.

The little vein on your forehead was about to pop. You and that nightgown are getting scrubbed with a brush when we return home…

As quietly as you could, you approached the girls and leaned against the swing set’s A-frame with your arms crossed.

“A bit far from home, are we now?” You said suddenly.

The girls nearly jumped out of their seats. Jemmy dragged her bare feet against the gravel, sputtering to a halt. As white as phantoms, they slowly turned to face your impending wrath.

“H-hi, Mommy…” Elaina greeted in uncertainty with large (E/C) glossed over in a silent plea as her lower lip jutted out in a quivering pout.

“H-hello, Your Grace…” Jemmy muttered quietly with a bowed head.

“Are the play gyms at home no longer to your liking?” You asked with a stern edge to your tone.

“N-no, no, it’s not that!” Your daughter exclaimed, flinching at her loud, impolite tone. A solemn frown fell over her face. “It’s just… I had so much fun when Grandma brought me here, I wanted to show Jemmy. I won’t do it again, I promise! Please don’t be mad, I’m really sorry…”

A small, sad smile twitched on the edges of your lips. You should be angry, you know. You should scold her for disappearing from The Dreaming. You should forbid her from leaving the palace for at least 10 years; solely for the stress and upset her little adventure sparked.

No, you were far too relieved to be angry with her. Jemmy, on the other hand, was a different story…

“I’m not mad.” You shook your head as you settled in the empty swing beside your daughter, swaying back and forth in a gentle rock.

“However, you cannot wander off like this again, Ellie. Not even with Jemmy. Realms like The Waking World are not like The Dreaming, it’s very dangerous to be alone here. That’s why it’s important that someone like me, Daddy, Grandma, or Grandpa are always with you when you’re here. Do you understand?”

Elaina’s dark brows furrowed at your warning. “Why is it dangerous here? Are there monsters?”

Your gaze shifted, falling on the amusement gleaming in Jemmy’s eyes. Oh, if only Elaina knew the irony in her interest…

As products of Chaos, you held the ability to bend Reality itself to create unspeakable horrors and magnificence alike. Powerful in every sense, it struck fear in those who knew the vast scale of your prowess.

Because of this, you’ve been called a monster more times than you could count. Shivering Jemmy even more so. Often by those who were more monstrous than you could ever be, ironically.

“In a way… Most beings are friendly and kind, but some are cruel and monstrous. Some that wish to hurt others…” You said with caution, not wishing to scare her. “That’s why you always need to be careful here. Alright?”

“Okay.” She nodded through a yawn. “Can we go home now?”

“Of course.” You smiled as you stood, holding a hand out to her. “It’s far past your bedtime, sweetheart-”

Here in the darkness…

A chant echoed in the recesses of your mind, growing increasingly louder with every step you took. You froze, suddenly paralyzed by excruciating pain unlike any other. It felt like you were being ripped apart-

Here in the darkness…

You fell to your knees, eyes glistening in fresh tears, choking and gasping for air. What’s happening?

“Mommy! What’s happening? What’s wrong?” Elaina cried, crouching beside you, watching in complete terror as grainy smoke slowly engulfed you.

Here in the darkness…

It took all you could not to scream. The smoke was like a torrential current, pulling you under with unbridled force. You don’t know how much longer you can hold on…

With the last of your strength, your eyes locked with your most trusted Lord of Chaos. “G-get Mor-phe-us!”

You let go- suffocated in unfeeling darkness.

Here in the darkness…

“I give you a coin made from a stone.”

‘What is this place…?’ You stirred in the void.

Here in the darkness…

“I give you a knife from under the hills, and I give you the blood from out of my vein…”

‘Ugh…’ The void lightens in a crimson hue.

Here in the darkness!

“I give you a song I stole from the dirt, and I give you a feather pulled from an angel’s wing for you to lift up into the heavens…”

Slowly, you ascended from the depths, towards a growing light.

Here in the darkness!

“I summon you with poison!”

You choke; your floating body contorting in unbearable pain.

HeRe In ThE dArKnEsS!

“I summon you with pain!”

‘Yes. Very much in pain…’ You screamed silently into the void, thrashing against its soul-crushing depths.

HeRe In ThE dArKnEsS!

“I open the way, I open the gates…”

‘Let me out!’ The light grows brighter, blinding and burning…

HERE IN THE DARKNESS!

“I summon you in the names of the old lords. Namtar, Allatu, Morax… Maborym calls you. Horvendile calls you. We summon you together. Come!”

Cold and hard as Reality’s forge, you fall from your otherworldly prison onto stone tiles with a sickening thud. Your ruby crown slipped from its place atop your head, and your matching ornate pendant smacked harshly against your jaw and clattered into your tresses from the brutal impact.

A pained hiss huffed against the stone faster than you could stop it- a sharp ache erupted on the side of your skull in strong, harrowing waves. Faintly, you could feel blood seep in thick rivers from the fracture’s wound, tangling your disheveled strands and staining the tiles below.

You winced at every sharp shift of jagged bone mending back in place; slowly subsiding into a dull throb beating in sync with your pounding heart.

Had you retained your mortality, you would be lucky to be alive, or hindered with severe mental impairments. It was a wonder you were still conscious, even with your godliness rushing to your aid.

The room erupted in hushed whispers and startled gasps. You peeked under the strands of hair slipping over your face. Archaic summoning, based on the binding circle and sigils used. Black robes and hoods? Occult perhaps? Cold stone floor and no windows that you could see. A cellar?

“Alex?” The caster’s voice called out. You slammed your eyes shut as a shadow loomed over you. “Alex!”

You cracked an eye open, as small, timid footsteps slowly approached beside the caster. His face was hard to see, but from their stature, they were young. Perhaps five years older than Elaina, if you were to guess.

“Get that crown for me,” the man barked. “But be careful. Don’t break the binding circle.”

Heedful hands reached forward and gently untangled the woven strands around the crown’s ornate frame.

“Hurry, boy!” The boy gasped in panic, ripping the last few strands free with a sudden tug, and handed it to the man.

“Hmm. Gold and rubies.” The caster inspected it before handing it off to one of his disciples.

You repressed the urge to smirk. They must not know who you are, or the true purpose your jewels served…

“Now the jewel. There.” The man pointed to the dazzling gem around your neck. The child reached forward and snatched the ruby. “Good.”

Fools, you nearly broke your façade.

“Well, let’s see what other treasures you have for us.” The caster said with beaming eyes, as he reached forward and grabbed the neckline notch of your fiery bell sleeve.

“What barbarity…” Your amusement loomed through the air with the cold, harsh sting of venom. The grip on your sleeve was abruptly released with shaken gasps and scuffling footsteps. You couldn’t help but laugh, rolling over with a triumphant grin aimed at your captor. “Disrobing a vulnerable woman? What a disgrace you must be to your lover and mother.”

The man smirked, an unspoken equal to your taunting quips. “Awake, are we?”

You nodded, shifting to your knees under your crimson skirt. “I’ve been. Your spell work is impressive, however, flawed.”

His smirk fell with disdain, rousing your own. “Though, I suppose it performed as intended… Somewhat.” You rose to your feet, radiating the very essence of power- of a true goddess. “So, what do you want?”

“I captured you under the laws of magic. Therefore, I command you, Death, to return my son Randall, who died in the Gallipoli Campaign. If you give him back to me, alive and well, I’ll release you from this binding circle. A fair deal, wouldn’t you agree?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, suppressing every mocking quip running through your mind.

Oh, this is rich!

“Barbaric and benighted… I’m afraid your demands are impossible to fulfill.” You smiled, enjoying the fallen look plastered on his face. “Death cannot revive the dead. Especially souls long passed on and corpses reduced to dust and bone. Your efforts are fruitless, Summoner.”

It wasn’t a complete lie, nor the entire truth. There were other ways one could revive the dead- albeit at an extravagant cost, often a life for a life, or paired with severe consequences. Something he may have considered, given his talent in magic. Perhaps he refused to get his hands dirty or aimed at cheating the age-old rules of magic.

“Resurrect him,” Your summoner pressed with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “If you wish to regain your freedom, you’ll answer my command.”

Your jaw clenched in your simmering irritation. “Do we speak in different tongues? Death leads souls to the afterlife, not back. Therefore, your request demands what cannot be done. No matter how untimely, Death makes no mistake. Your son was destined to die that day, and you cannot change that!”

Your summoner reeled back in disbelief, abhorred by your words.

Calm down…You sighed deeply, recollecting yourself from your burst of anger. “Please forgive my harsh words, it was incredibly insensitive of me. You have my condolences, I cannot imagine the pain of losing a child. But death is never the end. When your time comes, you shall be reunited with your child on the other side. That’s the only solace I can provide.”

“So, what can you give me?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Since you refuse to fulfill my request, I ask this in compromise: If I were to let you go, if I promise to give back your jewels… Power? Wealth? Immortality? Is there anything you can offer me?” The caster asked with a supercilious smirk.

Your lip curled in disgust. He’s demanding ransom for your tools now? Divine rewards for your freedom, for your totems’ theft, for ripping you away from your daughter?

“All I will offer is my word not to curse you and your followers.” You snarled in rising fury. “Release me and return my belongings and I shall forget this encounter ever happened. You’ll live out the rest of your days in peace, so long as you never cross paths with me or the Endless again.”

His eyes hardened at your harsh tone, visibly dissatisfied with your offer.

“Take the deal.” You hissed through gritted teeth. Your totems’ absence was taking its toll. Chaos’s full effect ran rampant in your veins like pure adrenaline, fanning the flames of latent corruption and masked madness, engulfing all semblance of morality and sanity in mayhem’s blaze. “It’s my most generous offer, given the circumstances. Consider yourself fortunate. Had you summoned any other member of my family, they would not be as kind.”

“Well, then. Make yourself at home in your binding circle. Until you are ready to comply, I’ll enjoy the gifts you’ve already given me.”

A cold, dark cackle echoed throughout the room, sending devastating chills down the followers’ spines. Many glanced at the exit, ready to sprint from your sinister presence at the drop of a hat. “You truly believe a chalk drawing will contain me?”

Scarlet lighting pricked along your fingertips and sparked the surrounding air ablaze in midnight cosmic fire. With each flicker, your power spun hazy tapestries of bleeding crimson stars and humming supernovas, emanating a horrific sense of fear your summoner had never experienced.

What fools they were, they realized too late.

This wasn’t Death. The caster realized in horror, unable to look away at the eldritch magic spinning from your fingertips in glowing waves. “W-what a-are you?!”

“Reality’s nightmare, so to speak.” You smiled darkly, watching the flames of Chaos roll from your fingertips in curling wisps. “You should’ve taken the deal, Magician. All this could’ve been prevented…”

With a twist of your wrist, the golden binding circle floated from its stone canvas and twirled around you at waist level. The gold cracked in a ruby-red glow, streaking slowly around the ring in lightning-like divots.

Your summoner stumbled back with eyes wide in disbelief, watching in horror as weeks of preparation fell effortlessly on the verge of destruction.

A devious, taunting smile curved across your lips, savoring the fear in his eyes.

With a flick of your wrist, the binding circle shattered.

“Why is it that when something goes awry in this prison, I’m somehow to blame?” The Corinthian huffed in disinterest, twirling his bloody blade while rocking lazily in his chair. His mud-covered heels propped up on the library table, dragging sludge in crusty streaks across the grain.

Lucienne wrinkled her nose at the mess, glaring daggers into the nightmare’s skull.

“Given your rogue nature and hatred of me, it’s hardly unreasonable to question your potential involvement.” Morpheus nearly growled from across the table.

The search in The Dreaming resulted as you predicted: Elaina was nowhere to be found.

Evidently, the Corinthian’s whereabouts were a bit of a mystery. Morpheus was aware of his murderous escapades in The Waking World; kidnapping, amongst other horrific crimes, was hardly beneath him.

Morpheus gritted his teeth and dug angry crescents into his palms. If possibility became reality, if the Corinthian hurt Elaina in any way, he wouldn’t hesitate to condemn him to fate worthy of his monstrosity. Morpheus already had more than enough reason to destroy his creation, why not make him beg for his demise?

“You really think so ill of me?” He chuckled, tapping the tip of his knife against his smiling lips. “See, if I truly hated you, I would’ve found some way to be rid of you once and for all, and kill that spoiled little brat. As for that powerful beauty you call a wife, I might keep her around for my entertainment… I’m certain she’s a screamer in more ways than one.”

“Do you wish to be unmade? Watch your tongue if you value your existence.” Morpheus hissed through his teeth as his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.

A mocking laugh fell from the nightmare’s lips. “Is that your favorite threat? You’ve over worn its impact long ago. It’s just another one of your empty threats-”

“Enough!” His voice boomed in a burst of sinister rage, reverberating in powerful, poignant waves. The library shook with an earthquake’s wrath, toppling magnificent chandeliers and infinite bookshelves to the floor into crashing heaps.

“I’m in no mood to play games, Corinthian.” He warned in a dangerous tone. “Did you harm my daughter? Yes or no?”

All amusement fell from the nightmare’s face, slouching in his chair with a huff. “No.”

“Did you abduct Elaina?”

“No, I didn’t take your kid.” He asserted with an aggravated sigh as he lifted his feet off the table. “As much as I hate to rat myself out, I wasn’t in The Dreaming much today. If you don’t believe me, there are eyes all over your domain, right? Ask any of them if they saw me today; especially before your kid disappeared.”

“Where do you claim to be when Lady Elaina disappeared?” Lucienne inquired.

He smacked his lips together in thought. “Out.”

“So, The Waking World then? Indulging your bloodlust, no doubt-”

“My point is, I had nothing to do with Elaina disappearing. It may come as a shock, but the brat is terrified of me. Every time our paths crossed, she’d dart in the other direction. She’d never let me anywhere near her without screaming her head off.”

He chuckled to himself. “How ‘bout that… The King of Nightmares’ kid is easily frightened. Heh. What a treat...”

Silver eyes scanned the nightmare’s demeanor in harsh scrutiny. All taunting remarks had vanished (mostly) and his inflection felt genuine (for once!). Though he was a brilliant liar and skilled manipulator, Morpheus felt inclined to believe him.

And it drained him of all hope.

Perhaps he was too confident in the Corinthian’s involvement; too focused on ending this heartbreaking search.

He just wanted his little girl home; safe and sound.

��Daddy!” A child’s voice screamed at the top of their lungs, as the pitter-patter of tiny feet rumbled through the library.

Morpheus’s sunken heart leaped in his chest- whipping his head around with enough force to snap his neck.

Please be her…

Instant relief washed over him in icy waves; darting across the piles of strewn books and broken glass, with tangled midnight tresses, and speckled from head to toe in a thin layer of grime, was his missing daughter.

“Ellie…”

He fell to his knees with his arms extended wide in welcome, careless of the glass shards cutting through his pants. Tears streamed down the young girl’s face in trembling rivers. She sprinted as fast as she could into his outstretched arms, waiting to engulf her shaking frame in a bone-crushing embrace.

He could finally breathe, as mountains of stress and worry dissipated into thin air.

His hope was restored.

Elaina was home.

“I told ya it wasn’t me…” The Corinthian remarked snidely, shifting back in his seat with blatant disinterest and boredom written on his face.

“‘I’m sorry! I’m s-s-so sorry!” She sobbed in breathless heaves against his shoulder.

“Darling, you’re safe. That’s all that-”

“No!” Elaina cried, ripping herself out of his arms. “There-therewasthisstrangesmoke-and-and-Ididn’tknowwhattodo! Thisisallmyfault! WehavetogosaveMommybeforeithurtsher!”

“Take a deep breath and calm down.” He said in a soothing voice, wiping her streaming tears away with his thumb. “Now, tell me what happened-”

“Ellie!” Another child’s voice called from outside the library. “Where are you?”

Jemmy?

Ragged blonde hair scurried through the entrance. Her wide, mischievous eyes now shimmered in odd distress as they fell on the scene. Without a thought, she sprinted over the scattered mess at a frantic pace and latched a relentless grip on Morpheus’s coat sleeve.

“Come on! Let’s go! Let’s go! We gotta help her!” Jemmy exclaimed, tugging on the sleeve and dragging him towards the door.

Confusion distorted his handsome features. Never had he witnessed these girls behave so distraught and hysterical.

“Girls, tell me what has happened!” He demanded, tugging his arm out of Jemmy’s grasp.

Elaina sniffled. “S-Something took Mommy…”

And just like that, all sense of relief lit furiously ablaze once again.

He froze; stunned and dumbfounded, with wide eyes shining in panic. A deity’s capture was unheard of. Cosmic divinities, such as the Endless and unique gods like you, made virtually impossible prey; even by magical means.

Your captors were either formidable foes or fools graced by dumb luck.

A forced smile curved across his lips; despite his worry and rage crashing over his being in devastating waves. Despite every compelling desire to hunt your captors down like animals and inflict a hell worthy of their actions. (If you hadn’t already). Despite everything, the need to protect you and Elaina took precedence above all else.

“Elaina,” he called out softly. Her tearful (e/c) eyes gleaming with guilt and panic met his own, sending a twinge of pain straight to his heart.

“Don’t believe for a second that you caused this. In no way is this your fault. Dry your tears, darling. I’ll bring her home.” His hand wiped the lazy streams rolling over her cheeks and tucked her dark locks behind her ear.

“Alright.” The Corinthian huffed as he emerged from his seat. “You got what you wanted. The brat’s safe. Can I leave now?”

“You may,” Morpheus grumbled, glaring lethal daggers at the nightmare. “Leave The Dreaming again, and I will uphold my every threat. Remember, my dreams are always watching...”

The Corinthian rolled his eyes beneath his glasses; falling on Elaina with a sinister smirk.

The young girl squeaked in distress and cowered into her father’s chest. Morpheus wrapped a protective arm around her in a makeshift shield, glaring a look of a thousand threats at the nightmare.

An animalistic growl rumbled from The Lord of Chaos like ominous thunder; quick to root herself between her best friend and The Corinthian’s vile gaze like a defensive wall.

“Heh. See you around, kid.” He laughed as he sauntered out of the library.

In slow shifts, Morpheus relaxed; only daring to drop his arms from around the frightened girl when every trace of the nightmare’s presence had vanished.

The theatrics of his departure consumed more time than he’d liked. There was no telling what sort of torture you were enduring; or inflicting. He needed to leave soon. Your safety and Reality’s stability depended on it.

“Darling,” Elaina lifted her head with a frown at his gentle tone. “I want you to stay with Lucienne until I return with your mother. Alright?”

With a sniffle, she nodded; throwing her arms around him in one last hug. “Be careful, Daddy.”

He smiled, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “Always.”

Pain. Infinite agony.

Swallowed whole by the corrupted dark and vast emptiness, Burgess crumbled to his knees under the pressure of dreadful despair and maniacal lunacy. The vast abyss resonated in a tormented cacophony of his followers’ frightful screams and deranged cackles. Some begged for death, while others wreaked in its promise. What horrors could warp their minds to such a degree?

“How does it feel, Summoner?” your voice echoed beyond the distorted cosmos.

Burgess stared into the abyss with panic; all rational sense failing to comprehend this cruel reality.

“Confined in an endless cage of my creation…”

This shouldn’t be possible… This cannot be possible! How did it come to this? He followed the grimoire’s instructions down to the punctuation! How could the ritual mistake the Angel of Death for a Chaos Goddess?

With what little strength remained, he lifted himself to his feet. In his hurried desperation, he stumbled- trampling over his writhing followers, either falling into Death’s welcoming embrace or shoving them to their untimely end.

An extended hand shot out instinctively to catch his fall, colliding with the barrier’s edge. Burgess smiled, reveling in the faint glimmer of hope coldly brushing against his fingertips.

So even reality-manipulating deities have their limits, the man mused. How pitiful.

With the wall as his guide, he lurched into a sprint.

“Is this not the fate you designed for Death?”

Boom…

Colossal footsteps rumbled like a devastating earthquake. His teeth chattered and knees wobbled under its violent intensity, he clung to the invisible wall for dear life.

“Had you been competent enough to catch her?”

Burgess shuddered at the brutal chill in your taunts and ridicule. What had he done to be punished so harshly? He only sought after what any grieving parent dreamt of achieving by any means necessary. Any entity with a shred of decency or compassion would recognize this!

No, he supposed a chaos demoness like yourself could never understand. Your monstrosity was beyond mercy and reason.

“Ignorance is bliss, my foolish summoner…”

Boom…

Intense tremors reverberated in such ungodly strength, Burgess was surprised the vibrations didn’t shatter his bones. He needed to move; he knew. Your footfalls were drawing near, albeit at a sinister snail’s pace. Staying put was suicide, running away guaranteed grave injury in his old age.

As the rumbles died, Burgess bolted. He gritted through the strain ripping at his joints, desperate to get away. If he could somehow evade your wrath and wait out your patience, perhaps he had a chance of escaping with his life and sanity-

BOOM!

His balance rocked and wavered in a fatal stumble; stomach clenching in surprise, quickly throwing a hand out to catch his fall. But found nothing.

With a screech, Burgess fell.

The inky darkness faded into a spectacle of roaring colors and freezing devastation. He screamed, twisting and contorting in an oscillating tunnel of blue and purple clouds twinkling in stardust, plunging into the heart of the universe; the soul of reality.

“Wandering blindly into the dark unknown, far beyond this vast and magical reality…”

Fearful eyes widened as the screech of rushing comets and planet-sized meteors whistled past him in blazing intensity. Stars around him buzzed and blazed in a sweltering dance of dust and light, raising thick beads of sweat on his brows.

Burgess couldn’t move, barely able to shield himself from the bursting blaze of dying stars. Fiery cinders seared like blazing bullets through clothes and bones alike. His cries of excruciating pain and babbling pleads fell on deaf and uncaring ears.

Utterly helpless, an unfortunate victim of reality’s wrath, he plummeted further into the maddening dark.

“Stranded before otherworldly truths and horrors mankind was never meant to witness…”

Swirling galaxies and glittering supernovas warped into a scarlet hollow faintly cracking in thunder’s roar. It emanated a heinous stench- something akin to burning brimstone and rotting meat. It seemed to loom in thick, noxious billows, weaving through the bloody chasm with strange sentience.

A living creature this far down?

Through watering eyes and bile burning his throat, he observed the strange fog dancing in helical patterns through the void. They seemed to move with purpose; for what, he did not know. Besides spreading its horrendous funk.

An improper omen, Burgess realized quickly; a vague warning of what waited in the darkness below. Nothing could’ve prepared him for what real horrors lingered beyond the shadows of time and space.

His eyes widened in their behold, witnessing firsthand the unholy creatures of madness and nightmares.

Beyond misty trails and beats of thunder, the raucous, high-pitched cries of a thousand broken flutes blared in a toneless tune. It was deafening- maddening; ringing in his eardrums like amplified tinnitus.

To his right, short humanoid creatures with pale gaunt faces and fibrous bat wings swarmed a twister-covered islet. They flailed in a strange dance, almost mindlessly, to the blaring broken wail. The rampant vortices easily swept their fluttering bodies in their currents- even that failed to hinder their ridiculous dance.

To his left- may the gods have mercy- colossal tentacles coated in thick scales and blister-like pustules emerged from the dark in sluggish sways. Their scale was incomprehensible; one languid swipe could destroy planets! The godless beast could swallow entire star systems, he feared.

“Lest what semblance of sanity rots into chaos and madness.”

Burgess’s eyes fell forward, to his sanity’s dismay.

Before him was the center of it all. The creator of beasts. Primordial madness.

It was an eyeless cyclopean entity; a bloated and unsightly mass of bulbous knots covered in leathery tendrils and mucus-like sludge. Rows of razor-sharp teeth lined the infinite orifice masking its featureless face; ready to devour any careless creature that fell into its jaws.

Much like Burgess.

His lips peeled back in a hopeless grin under his powerful sobs, cachinnating in a crazed chorus under the flutes’ insipid tune.

So this is the truth behind madness? Behind reality itself? He wondered in chortling delight, falling straight into the jaws of fate.

Oh, he couldn’t wait to tell Randall of this wondrous truth! Of all the majestic, abominable marvels lying dormant at reality’s edge!

This truth… Reality’s glorious truth! It was far superior to power or wealth, beyond the hollow values of humanity and sanity’s restraints.

Here, he was a tiny insignificant speck about to be swallowed by a cosmic leviathan, and never felt more doomed and freed.

***

You hummed with a smile, hovering above the crafted reality with amusement in your fiery eyes. The nonsensical ramblings of madmen never ceased to amuse you. Especially those driven to the brink by your own hand.

A low chuckle spilled from your lips. Oh, how you missed this! Basking in chaotic corruption was such an invigorating thrill! You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so free; so unhinged.

Fiery darkness danced at your fingertips in weaving flicks, fabricating every twinkling star and horrid monstrosity alike. This reality is becoming one of your favorites, you think. It was inspired by the terrifying dreams Morpheus had created for an aspiring writer in America. You were captivated by the concept of unfathomable deities from the depths of the cosmos, able to influence sensitive minds through dreams and evoke chaos and madness with their presence alone.

You wonder what inspired the idea…

Screams of pain pulled you from your thoughts. You glanced into the void- oh, how wonderful! Your summoner impaled himself on a colossal tooth in the monster’s gullet.

You laughed in sadistic delight, watching him wriggle and writhe in his last heaving breath.

Well, that’s no fun…

With a jerk of your finger, Burgess slid off the tooth in a sickening squelch as the gaping cavity in his chest laced back together like a corset- just enough to keep him alive a little while longer.

Much better! Now then, what else could you inflict on your pompous captor-

“Love, that’s enough.”

You froze; paralyzed by a voice softer than silk. All baleful thoughts halted in their fiery rant, instantly snuffed out by calming tidal waves.

A gentle hand slipped past the cosmic flames’ flicker and curled over your own- silencing every violent and vengeful desire Chaos had spurred in an instant.

His joy clashed with your rage. His hope battled your despair. His light defeated your darkness.

Regretful tears rolled in rivers down your face and fell into the corrupted reality below. How could you have strayed so far? How could you abandon all the goodness that he taught you?

How could you let yourself become the monster so many believed you to be? Including yourself…

You gripped his hand as tight as you could, clinging to the warmth of his touch, terrified of letting go. Of losing control again.

Guilt washed over you with a hurricane’s wrath. Your actions reverberated like a torturous echo; the screams of terror, the pleas for death, the horrific pain your rage created…

What have I done?

In resisting flickers, the blazing black flames slowly suffocated into a dying hush, compelling Reality’s unravel.

***

“Argh-”

THUD!

“Ugh…” Burgess stirred in the bone-shattering pain coursing through his body. He groaned into something cold and hard like concrete- The belly of the beast? The bottom of reality?

He lifted his head with a sharp jerk, his forehead gleaming in a sheet of sweat and eyes wide with madness- darting in hyper dashes all over the room.

How odd… Wherever he was, it took the likeness of his cellar. No- that can’t be right! Perhaps his new surroundings were so unfathomable, his mind replaced its nonsense with memories.

His thoughts cackled as he rolled onto his back in a careless flop. How curious… The clarity of his memories was exquisite! Insignificant details seemed to burst off of the constructed reality his memories painted. Every speck of dust and cobweb beamed with undeniable certainty; even his (surely) deceased followers writhing and groaning in their stupor beside him seemed too real.

“Love, it’s alright,” Morpheus whispered softly over your muffled cries.

“I-it happened a-again… It’s a-all m-my f-fault…”

A furrow creased Burgess’s white brows; he didn’t recognize that voice. This was a memory! He was certain! Who was this man? How did he get into his head?

Burgess turned his head towards the voice with a twitch in his neck and sparkling paranoia in his eyes. The man was tall like a tree with a face paler than snow and dressed in a black darker than the night sky. He nearly towered over a woman dressed in red, wrapping his arms around her in a protective embrace and holding her close to his chest.

Another entity perhaps-

That woman! The ethereal goddess of Reality’s truth! Is she an alternate version of the other deity? Was this still a memory, or did she submerge him into another reality? One with secrets that demanded to be explored?

No! No! No! His mind still spiraled in the truth of his former plane of existence!

His sanity would surely combust if he faced another truth!

“…let’s go home,” Morpheus said, and you pulled from his embrace with a sniffle.

“M-my totems…” Your tearful eyes glanced at Burgess with strange sorrow.

What for? He should thank you! Praising you, worshiping the ground you walked on for opening his eyes to reality’s wonderful truth!

The man’s steel eyes followed yours, hardening instantly with contempt.

“I’ll handle it.”

Burgess jumped back with a trembling hiss like he had been burned by the entity’s searing stare. His eyes of steel seemed to pierce far beyond flesh and bone, beyond the blood pumping erratically in his veins, and the fluttering ventricles beating out of his chest. He pierced something much more hallowed and precious. Cold and relentless, it intended to punish several lifetimes over.

Billows of fine sand suddenly engulfed the entities into a grainy vortex. His trembling arms were quick to shield his face from the sand’s whipping wrath.

As quick as it appeared, the wind died down- and the entities had vanished.

Burgess did not sleep that night.

He couldn’t- he wouldn’t. No- they’ll be waiting for him in his dreams! Those eldritch monsters beyond reality’s veil, lingering in the chaotic dark… Waiting. Biding their time for God knows what.

To swallow the universe whole? Wreak chaos and destruction to every plane?

He paced his study in a hysterical flutter. The pleas of his followers and physicians, even the desperate cries of his son couldn’t reach him. Their voices were all drowned out by the blaring sound of cracked flutes.

It was stuck in his mind, playing on a relentless loop like a tortuous record. Ear-splitting and harmonious, a monotonous symphony!

No! He refused to let his guard down. The dark couldn’t be trusted!

Burgess halted in his pace; dashing to his desk and grabbed a pen from its well.

Godless. He sprawled messily over a loose page. Those abominations were far beyond any god’s reach. Perhaps they were gods themselves…

“How could I be so blind? Randall-” He spun from his desk, facing a cheerful young man in military attire sitting comfortably in an armchair across the room. “My boy, don’t you see? Those monsters must be gods! Everything- molecules, elements, magic!- it all stems from them somehow-”

Meow…

For one blissful, merciful moment of clarity, the consuming madness within him froze in dead silence. A small sense of rationality glimmered in his eyes like diamonds, turning cautiously towards the subtle mew.

Black as night, sat a cat in the lurking shadows just beyond his study’s threshold. Its slitted eyes shone like a freshly minted sixpence in the moonlight. What a magnificent little creature.

Burgess approached the dark feline slowly in cautious measures. His canines pierced the thin delicate tissue of his lips with more force than he knew. Faint crimson streams trickled undetected down his chin in lazy rivers, too immersed in the creature before him to notice.

With a lithe leap and a skip of the man’s heart, the mysterious feline pranced with grace down the corridor. Burgess stuttered in his dash, nearly tripping over the ornamental runners striping the hardwood as he staggered into the hall.

The cat seemed to wait for him; patiently perched on the ornate curtail of an iron-wrought spiral staircase. How odd…

“Wh-what d-do yo-you want?!” The feline only blinked its moonish eyes; unfazed and uncaring, it ascended the staircase.

Every few steps, it would cast those strange eyes over its shoulder, as if it was assuring he followed into the attic space. A sweat broke over the old man’s brow, he heaved in anxious whimpers as paranoia hindered his every step. It was impossible to think; the thunderous pounding of his heart muffled his thoughts, fanning an overwhelming sense of fear like a rousing fire-

Perhaps this was an envoy of sorts from Reality’s Protectress; perhaps to open his eyes once again.

What was there to be afraid of? He knew the Truth; the Goddess protects the Truth; Therefore, She will always protect him!

Anticipation outweighed anxiety; he dashed up the stairs behind the cat with a maniacal smile smearing his face.

His eyes locked on the cat’s back, watching in wild mania as it strutted towards a black ornate chair seated in the corner of the circular attic. It hopped and circled the cushion, sitting powerfully tall in its center; somehow radiating the elegant essence of a king. The feline flashed its silver-slitted eyes in its rest, blinking at Burgess in a torpid blink.

“Hello.”

A dark voice suddenly called out, inciting a surge of fear and dread within the madman. His eyes grew wide and tumbled back in shock, mumbling incoherent huffs and babbling nonsense. Sitting before him sat a shadowy man with eyes of angry white stars burning into his skull.

The man from before, the one that comforted the Goddess. The one that embedded unwavering fear into his soul.

“N-no…” The man shook at the shadowy man as tears of terror rolled down his cheeks in trembling streams. “Please! Have mercy! I beg of you!”

“Have you any idea what you have done? The torment you inflicted on your own mind and to her?” The dark deity asked calmly, with striking eyes sharpened in rage. He rose from his black throne to his full intimidating height, slowly approaching the whimpering madman sobbing on his knees. “Can you even fathom the damage you could’ve done to your world?”

Those eyes… Colder than ice and sharper than a knife. Utterly relentless in slashing his delicate soul into ribbons! What had he done wrong to deserve his wrath? She gave him a gift! The gift of sight, of freedom, of Reality’s Truth- the glorious Truth!

Burgess cackled through his tears; all fear dissipating under the blissful warmth of this bestowed knowledge. This painful, burdensome, unholy knowledge.

“It was a wonderful mistake! I sought the Angel of Death- instead I gained something much, much more valuable! That woman- that Goddess! She opened my eyes and showed me horrors I can never unsee! They live in my mind now and feast on my brain- how incredible! It hurts! It hurts… Her reality is too cruel, too monstrous to bear. Please, have mercy on me!”

Morpheus frowned at his ramblings, cocking a brow in confusion.

What Chaos ravaged his mind? What reality had you created for this man?

“If her Reality is too cruel, perhaps my Dreams will be kinder.” The deity said as a sudden gust of wind whipped through the room. Through wide, fearful eyes, Burgess watched as wisps of dark thundering clouds emerged from the attic’s shadows, splitting the air in storming light.

The man shrieked as the looming storm drew closer, throwing his arms over his head in panic.

“Don’t fret. Your punishment shall be a gift…” Morpheus reassured, lowering himself before the cowering madman. “I give you this… The gift… of eternal… sleep.”

A hand unfurled before the entity’s lips, blowing sparkling waves of golden sand across Burgess’s eyelids.

Eyes of lead drooped in slumber’s dark embrace, screaming in a nocturnal silence that stirred his raging mind. With no fight left, Burgess surrendered to his nightmarish fate.

***

“Father! Father! Please wake up! Please!” A hysterical child cried, shaking Burgess’s arm as he whimpered and thrashed in his sleep.

“Doctor, what’s wrong with him?” A blonde woman asked, dabbing the chilled sweat from the man’s wrinkled brow.

“Blood pressure is normal, lungs are clear, no fever, no signs of trauma… His coma has no apparent cause, I’m afraid.”

Morpheus loomed like a shadow in the bedroom’s threshold with a cold glint in his eyes as they fell upon the sleeping man. His punishment was kindness; entrapped within the darkness of sleep, he was free from the Chaos that ravaged his mind, unable to hurt or capture another soul ever again.

For targeting Death, for ripping his wife from the arms of their daughter, all in the name of a reckless endeavor- this was the most compassion he could muster for this horrid man.

Neither in Dreams, nor in Reality, will you ever know peace again, Roderick Burgess.

He slipped down the corridor like a thief in the night, set to reclaim your stolen jewels.

Luminous moonlight streaked The Dreaming’s sky in pearlescent radiance, shining brightly in harmony with twinkling stars on the midnight canvas. Most nights, the cosmic brilliance elicited a sense of wonder and happiness; even more so when wrapped in Morpheus’s arms.

But tonight, it felt cold and empty; a terrible reminder of the horror you conjured.

You leaned on the balcony’s stone rail, bathed in the silver light with a cheerless frown aimed at the stars. Harsh thoughts swarmed your head like berating bees, slowly eating you away into an emotionless husk, numb to everything around you.

“Love?” A warm hand brushed over your shoulder, hardly shaking you out of your thoughts.

“Did that man lose his mind?” You asked in a sorrowful voice, eyes still pinned on the vale below.

“He did.” Morpheus said reluctantly as a sad frown claimed his features. “However, from what I gathered, grief and obsession has taken a drastic toll on his sanity. Madness was destined to claim him with or without your hand.”

“And what of the others?” Your question quivered over a lump in your throat.

His hand fell from your shoulder, gripping your fidgeting hands, and tracing soothing circles into your skin. “Flustered. But they’ll recover. They’ll only remember what occurred as a harmless nightmare.”

Your brows twitched in a brief crease, a faint twinkle glossing over your eyes, but only for a moment. So distinct, but unmistakable under his observant gaze; the faint embers of hope flickering in Chaos’s torrential gale.

“Here.” A hand slipped into his coat pocket and retrieved your pendant, glinting in gilded opulence under the silver moon. A sigh of relief fell from your lips with a thankful smile. Morpheus stepped behind you, looping the necklace over your front and fastening the clasp behind your neck.

You closed your eyes as the pendant fell over your heart, basking in the waves of relief flooding through your chest, washing away every speck of dread and despair weighing you down.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, (Y/n). After all they’ve done, they were more than worthy of your wrath.” He said, spinning you around to face him as he pulled your crown from his pocket. “In this instance, your corruption was just.”

He gently placed your crown atop your head with his hands falling to cradle your cheeks. He placed a loving kiss on your forehead, sealing it with his own.

Your eyes fluttered shut with a smile, as all turbulent thoughts fell in peaceful silence. Numbness and despair melted away into joyful warmth, as all you could feel now was Morpheus.

Your light in the darkness. Your hope in despair. Your Dream in this chaotic nightmare.

Feedback is always appreciated. I hope you enjoyed!

#The Sandman #The Sandman Fanfic #the sandman netflix #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #dream of the endless #the sandman fanfiction #lord morpheus #Morpheus x You #morpheus x y/n #goddess!reader #light angst #the sandman fluff #horror

240 notes · View notes

sotwk · 2 years

Text

The Task of Living (Thorin x unnamed OC)

Love Confession feat. Thorin Oakenshield

Valentine 2023 Event by @sotwk

Summary: Two years after his triumphant reclamation of Erebor, Thorin returns to his former village in Dunland, seeking the woman he has loved since long ago.

Prompt: “You have to come back to me. Because I cannot do this without you.”

Requested by and Dedicated to: @the-fragile-heart-of-a-lady. Thank you for the request, the follow, and for letting me do a little something to help you feel better! This definitely turned out longer and more detailed than I had planned, so I hope it brings you some joy and comfort! <3

Word count: 2.4 k

Content: Romance, angst, drama, fierce dwarf-maiden, Everybody Lives AU, post-BotFA, King Thorin

Rating: T (Teens and up)

Warnings: Some sensuality

To Read on AO3: Link

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

The Task of Living

Third Age 2943

Dunland

“Is she… is she yours?”

You smoothed a hand over the unbraided chestnut curls of the dwarf-child on your lap and shook your head. "My sister's. You probably don’t remember her."

His coal-black eyebrows knitted together, but only for a second. "Rith," he spoke her name with a triumphant little smirk that made you itch with a desire to smack it off his face. He set down his tankard of mulled ale on the table and leaned forward, the rickety old chair creaking underneath this small movement. “And how is she?”

“She is dead,” you said flatly, enjoying the flinch that wrinkled his perfect features. “Killed in an orc raid on the village six years ago, she and her husband both.” You gave your niece a quick hug and set her down, patting her lightly on the back. “Why don’t you go and help your Grandmother with the stew?”

“She needn’t have bothered, truly.” His keen blue eyes scanned the single-room cottage that presently housed three women across three generations. Although his gaze seemed mostly curious, his interest suddenly made you feel embarrassed about the dwelling’s small size and worn-out shabbiness.

“Of course she had to,” you hissed, rising abruptly from your chair. “What else are we expected to do when a king shows up at our doorstep, with no forewarning, but to scramble to pay respects and offer up what little provisions we have?”

Thorin rose to his feet, slowly, as though a dreadful weight burdened his stooped shoulders. Still, he towered over you, his regal demeanor undeniable despite his obvious attempts to dress in simple garb, with no raiment upon him other than the ancestral crown on his head.

“A caravan is on its way here,” he said. “Two dozen wagons loaded with enough food and supplies for a year. Enough for this whole village and its neighbors. It should arrive in a few days. The cargoes are heavy and the roads are troublesome. I decided to ride ahead with my guard because…” He faltered, but took a breath and pressed on. “...because I could not wait to see you.”

Oh no. You backed up a step, subconsciously resisting the allure of his presence, the implication of his words. Before you could turn away, he spoke again, “Perhaps we might move this conversation outside. There is still light out; we can take a short walk.”

Perhaps it would be easier to breathe and keep a clear head outdoors with all the fresh air. As you exited the cottage, you felt Thorin’s hand cup lightly around your elbow, in a courteous gesture to help you down the steps. You jerked your arm away, irritated by the silly nicety reserved for soft, high-society ladies who likely kept his company now.

In the corner of your eye, you spotted several armored soldiers by the sheep pen, tending to their ponies. You marched on in the direction of the little brook that bordered your property, determinedly and defiantly, leaving Thorin to hasten his steps to keep up.

“If I may say so, you look well--”

You stopped and spun around without warning. "Why are you here, Thorin?” You grimaced and corrected yourself. “Pardon me. Why are you here, your Majesty?”

“Thorin,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “You need not be so formal with me, not after so many years of friendship between us.”

Friendship. That word could not have burned you worse than a glowing hot iron straight out of the furnace. And suddenly it was thirty-five years ago, when you stood before each other in similar surroundings all the way in the shadows of the Blue Mountains, and Thorin told you with utmost conviction, that he could not accept your marriage proposal.

And you exploded. All the grief and pain and anger that you had shored up behind a wall inside your heart flowed like fiery lava on the slopes of an awakened volcano.

“Are you trying to hurt me?!” you cried. “Is that why you have come? Now that you have accomplished your great destiny to regain your throne, you thought it might amuse you to return to your former haunts and toy with the commoners you used to dwell amongst? Are you already so weary and bored of counting all the gold in the great Kingdom Under the Mountain?”

Thorin squared his shoulders and set his jaw against the accusations, incorrigibly stubborn as you had always known him to be. “I came to help. Both you and your kin.” He gestured at the house behind them, and the others beyond. “This land was also my home once.”

“It has not been your home for a very long time, Thorin.” You wrapped your arms across your chest, whether to shield yourself from the winter chill or from the dwarf who had shattered you irreparably, you weren’t certain. “Allow me to refresh the King’s memory since it has been so long: you abandoned it for the Blue Mountains. I was there. I left my own family and moved across Eriador to follow yours. But a humble life at the Lune would not satisfy you either, and you refused to settle and put down roots.”

At least not with me. You swiped at the corners of your eyes, furious at the tears that wouldn’t stop their descent. "You should not have come back here. We will manage well enough without Erebor's charity."

The old Thorin might have exchanged your rejection with biting words of his own; such was the pride that ran through the Durins' veins. But the face of the dwarf-lord before you softened as he continued.

"I came for you. To tell you I have not forgotten everything we shared together." The tone of his voice had changed; it cracked with desperation, pleading with you to accept his declarations. And then he uttered your name, and hearing it on his lips roused an ache inside you that was too much to bear.

You started walking again, stomping over the thick snow, following the line of naked trees along the frozen brook. He kept up with you in determined strides, raising his voice to a near shout as his passion grew.

"I have thought of you every day since we parted. Every memory I had of you, I kept close, even though it burned me as often as it kept me warm, because I refused to surrender hope that this day would come for us."

You shook your head wildly and pressed your hands over your ears, as though these gestures would be enough to make him stop.

“Amrâlimê, please...”

"Do. NOT. Call me that!"

You whirled around and punched him, slamming your fist into his chest, stopped by a wall of thick leather and muscle. While you considered yourself strong for your race, your strength fell short against a Durin. Thorin did not budge an inch, or even wince. Perhaps your predictable temper was the part of you least easily forgotten. So you hit him again. And again. Until you were pounding both fists repeatedly against his torso, his shoulders, his arms, anywhere you thought you could get him to feel just a small fraction of the agony he had put you through for over thirty years. Still Thorin refused to move or throw up any kind of self-defense.

How dare he! How dare he address you as such, in the tender manner that haunted you for decades even after you left the Blue Mountains to escape the unbearable sight of him. The precious endearment he would whisper into your ear on occasions of stolen intimacy, sigh into your hair in moments of peaceful contentment, moan against your skin whenever he made love to you.

Through your rage, you sensed the guards approaching to rescue their lord, and instinct prepared you to turn around and fight back like a cornered animal. But Thorin raised his hand at them in a signal to halt, and he finally reached out to catch your flailing wrists, easily ending your assault.

"I love you. As Mahal is my witness, my heart has ever belonged to you alone." He encased your hands tightly within his and held them against his chest, tugging you to him. "And you love me still, I can see it, however wretchedly undeserving I am."

You could not even think of struggling. It was too late. He was too close now, close enough for you to feel how real he was--his piercing eyes, his strong, calloused hands, the scent of smoke and steel that clung to the very hairs of his warm skin. These were not just a fantasy conjured by delirious longing, or a dream from the nights you cried in your sleep. Thorin was here. Alive and well, and here.

“I am truly sorry for all the pain I have caused you. Forgive me, Amrâlimê,” he murmured hoarsely, tracing the curve of your bottom lip with his thumb, sweeping down the softness of your jaw. “If I can have nothing else from you, I beg you to grant me that last kindness.”

That single moment of exposed vulnerability, of breathtaking sorrow and regret that radiated from him, reached you more than any of his expressions of passion. How much have the years changed him? The Thorin you knew could never bear to admit he was wrong about anything. Was it possible that rising to his kingship finally taught him humility?

“You have my forgiveness.” As you spoke this pardon, the remaining flames of your anger blew out to nothingness.

And Thorin smiled, his sweet, gentle smile, rare as the most precious gem but many times as beautiful. Your own smile felt like it would break your cheeks. He pulled you into his embrace and you sobbed into his neck, wondering if it was possible to die of happiness.

Drawing back, Thorin cradled your face between his hands, smoothing your tear-streaked cheeks, and rested his forehead on yours. “May I…?” Your breaths mingled in the soft whisper, and his eager lips already brushed yours even as he waited for permission.

"I may only ever kiss My One, whom they call Oakenshield," you said softly. "Where can I find him under the fine trappings of this great King?"

In response, Thorin gripped the heavy golden crown on his head and lifted it off. It slipped carelessly from his fingers and fell to the snow-covered ground with a dull thud.

"Let me show you," he said, and waited no more. He kissed you with the hunger of years of longing, deeply and greedily, pausing only when you whimpered for breath you could not catch. He backed you up underneath a tree, which you leaned against to aid your weakening balance as Thorin pressed on, his mouth leaving your swollen lips only to descend your neck, worshiping every inch of skin he could access.

"Durin help me," he growled into the curve of your shoulder, exposed where he had nearly torn your sleeve off. His chest still heaved from exertion and barely restrained lust. "I must have you again." He raised his eyes to meet yours, and the look in them made you swallow hard, conscious of your own depraved desire for him. "But it should be in the proper way you deserve."

"You are the only one I would ever have," you said, combing your fingers through a section of his thick black hair, now beautifully mixed with silver stands.

He took your hand to his lips, kissing your palm repeatedly before saying, "So would you return to Erebor with me?"

Your hesitation made him wrap both arms tightly around you, his entire body tense with the lingering fear of being separated from you again.

"You have to come back to me. Because I cannot do this without you."

"Do what?" you asked, caressing his beard to calm the anxiety you regretted causing him. "What task is it that the great hero of Erebor needs a humble peasant's help in accomplishing?"

"The task of living." Thorin cupped his hand underneath your chin and gazed at you with soft, earnest affection. "A life with you was the only treasure I ever desired, but duty forced me to deprive myself of it. But no longer. I have avenged my family and restored our honor and our house. I have led our people back home. The time has come for me to pursue my own joys and pleasures, and those exist only in you."

"But my lord. My love," you whispered, once again moved to tears by the gladness his words roused in you. "Am I still a suitable match for you now that you require a consort to rule a kingdom by your side? I am not fit for the legendary grandeur of Erebor." You gestured at your attire, from your unadorned hair, your plain brown wool dress with a patched up skirt and worn, dirt-caked boots. "Just look at me."

"Indeed. I look at you with great pleasure," Thorin said, with a smirk that immediately made you blush. "When I look at you, I see my dreams fulfilled. I cannot imagine providing Erebor with a braver, kinder, wiser, or more radiant Queen."

"If you would still have me, that is." He held out his open palm to you, revealing an item he produced from the folds of his robe. Fading sunlight bounced off the high polish of the small, silvery-grey stone. You gasped when you recognized the betrothal bead you had offered him so many years ago. He must have rescued it after you had flung it away in your heartbroken grief, and kept it safe with him all this time.

"I fought through dragonfire and armies of orcs so I may live to see this day, so I may get a second chance to accept and wear this." Hope and fear battled in his intense stare, which bore down on you with heavy anticipation. "But now the course of my fate rests entirely upon you. Will you have me?"

He held his breath in the brief silence before you closed his fist around the bead and smiled. "I will have you for the rest of my life and whatever else lies beyond, Thorin Oakenshield." You placed a tender kiss on his knuckles. "So let us go home and see to this task of living… my King."

Tagged by request: @aduialel @fizzyxcustard @lathalea @laneynoir @auttumnsayshi @achromaticerebus @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @blueberryrock @scyllas-revenge @glassgulls @ladyweaslette @heilith @absentmindeduniverse; @undeniableadrenaline

For more of my stories, please see My Masterlist.

If you would like to be added to my tag list, please sign up here: Tag List Sign-Up.

#thorin #thorin fanfiction #thorin x oc #thorin x you #thorin oakenshield #the hobbit fanfiction #sotwk fanfiction #valentine event 2023 #follower request #unnamed oc

334 notes · View notes

twisted-tales-of-all · 11 months

Text

The Enemy of My Enemy

Summary: When your home port suddenly claims a ban on pirates docking there, you and your rival are forced to join forces. Characters: Kim Hongjoong + Gender Ambiguous Reader; ft. ATEEZ members Genre: Fantasy Short Series (part 1) with a bit of Angst (and possible fluff in later parts) Tropes: pirate!AU, enemies to friends (to lovers in a later part), working together against a mutual enemy Word Count: 2.9K Contains: pirate-related violence (explosions, knives, injury, blood, etc), betrayal, cursing, mention of death and loss of limbs, homoromantic undertones for certain characters (nothing explicit or confirmed), use of 'sir' as honorific without gendered undertones

A/N: support banner by @cafekitsune ; pirate divider by @firefly-graphics 🤍

You aren't new to discrimination, not by any means. However, that didn't stop you from getting blindsided as you tied your ship to its usual post at the port.

"This ship and its crew are unwelcome in this port." A stern, deep voice booms from behind you, loud enough to gather the attention of everyone nearby - all but yours, at least.

As you finish tying the knot and stand up, you feel the figure looming directly behind you. You hadn't the slightest thought that they were speaking of your wondrous Moon Raider, not after the past three years of ensuring that your crew respected the port and its customs.

Turning, you ask the man, "What ship is unwelcome, exactly?"

Although you wanted to hide your irritation, your crew noticed. The man also must've noticed since he clears his throat harshly before responding with a tone rivaling that of an automated robot.

"Any and all pirate ships have been banned from docking on our port. Leave immediately or face the consequences."

Your irritation morphs into booming laughter, "We always pay any fines you assign us. What's with the extra formality this time around?"

As you mimic his stature, you notice another officer walking past your boat's position. You watch him announce the same rehearsed statement to the captain there as he hops out to anchor his ship to its post. However, rather than offering him a chance to leave, he grabs his arm, locking him into constraints instantly. At this point, you realize the gravity of the situation, but it's all too late. As you're focused on the Sun Howler, the officer in front of you approaches and places restraints on you. You call out to your crew, reminding them to stay calm and follow all the rules.

Dragging your rival, the other officer follows behind as you walk with your officer silently. Trying to remain calm, you attempt to calculate why this may happen. Although you may not follow all the rules perfectly, everything worked out up until now. And, although you may not enjoy competing with him, you know Captain Hongjoong plays fair just like you. For the harbor police to arrest you both, there's really only one option: new port ownership. Although this was your first time back to the dock in months, you hadn't expected such a drastic change.

Reaching the prison, the officers shove you both into a cell together. Through the bars, they remove your cuffs.

"You sure we won't kill each other in here?" You joke, screaming at their backs as they leave, entirely unfazed by your comment.

"I think they'd prefer it," Hongjoong scoffs as he taps on the sheath on his hip, "Otherwise, they'd at least remove our obvious weapons."

Cursing, you sit down with your back against the cold brick wall. Fidgeting with the frayed fabric on the thigh of your pants, you wonder if the situation could get any worse.

"What'd you do, Raider?" He prompts, using your boat as your name, somewhat of a custom between you.

"Nothing here. Not in a long time. We've been gone for three months time. What of you, Howler?"

You look up to see him leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed and one foot laid over the other. He shakes his head, and - although his hat covers his face - you can imagine how hard the cogs turn in his head to analyze the situation.

"It wasn't like this when I left either. We've only been gone about seven weeks. How'd something happen so quickly?"

After a long period of silence, you hear footsteps approaching. Even simply seeing their shoes, everything clicks for you. You can tell Hongjoong understands as well, as you can sense him tense up.

"Hongjoong.Y/N. What an amazing situation for us to reunite."

The callous tone pricks at your skin, leaving goosebumps in its stead, but you refuse to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. Your cellmate, however, is far too quick to anger to stop himself. He leans against the bars as he curses at the person who once sailed the seas opposite you both.

"The fuck is going on, Wooyoung?! Why in hell's name are you standing there high and mighty while we're stuck in a damned cage in this cellar?!"

Hands up by his head, Wooyoung stifles a laugh, "Quite aggressive now, aren't we? I know we were rivals on the sea years ago, but it looks like I won out."

"Sell out. Traitor. Fucking turncoat."

This time, he allows his laugh to echo through the prison. Cockily, he steps closer to Hongjoong, leaning in just barely out of reach.

"Does it matter what I did if I won? You look pathetic, Captain."

With this comment, you interject, "This is why you never had a loyal crew, you know. Your ego got in the way and Topaz Shields lost out because of it. Such a gorgeous ship, too. So sad. How's the leg?"

Knowing he wanted to hit below the belt, you remind him of his greatest tragedy by asking about his leg. Due to his ego, he drove his ship directly into the sirens' call and barely escaped with his life. He lost his loyal-to-a-fault first mate that day two years ago, all because he couldn't stand the thought of the other two crews finding a sacred treasure before him.

"Don't you dare mention Shields, Raider. The leg was the least of my troubles, and you know that much."

"Right, right. Pardon my impertinence. How could I forget that you lost your boyfriend as well?"

Trying to hold his composure, he reminds you that San was only ever his first mate, nothing more. Despite what everyone knows to be true thanks to their actions and Wooyoung's immediate reaction to the man's untimely death, he has denied his feelings since the incident - something to hide behind to lessen his feelings of guilt for causing his death.

"Well, whatever the case, I've come here to alert you that we'll be charging you for crimes against the city through your illegal market dealings and disregard for the laws of the area."

Hearing a former pirate captain charge someone for essentially being a pirate feels laughable, but you simply ask for the price point of said charges.

"Oh, no price for this one, Y/N. You both have been sentenced to time in jail equal to that of your career length. For you, that's three years; Hongjoong, you have 4."

Quick to react once again, Hongjoong unsheaths his dagger and swings it through the bars. It cuts Wooyoung on the lower part of his cheek, but the sound is far more intimidating than the actual damage.

Bringing his hand up to his face, Wooyoung smirks as he sees his red-stained fingertips. You keep a hand on your weapon, worried he might lash out against you both, but he simply turns to walk out.

"Enjoy your years. Once you return, there will be no Sun Howler. No Moon Raider. No pirates." He doubles down with his irritating remarks by waving his hand nonchalantly as he turns the corner.

As soon as the click of his footsteps fades to silence, Hongjoong drops into a squat. He curses Wooyoung and grumbles about the ridiculous sentencing. Seeing him freak out like this makes you giggle. He's usually light and free, the shining sun amongst a hoard of disheveled and mangled captains. You share that commonality with him - you've never quite been one for abandoning health and presentation, even if that's what many people picture when imagining pirates. The crews from this port rarely saw those kinds of pirates, not when the three captains who called this place home were you, Hongjoong, and Wooyoung. So, seeing one of these captains falling apart on the floor while cursing and swinging at someone makes you wonder how quickly you could also fall apart.

Shaking your head to rid yourself of those thoughts, you break the silence, "What's the plan, Howler?"

He looks at you dumbfounded, "Plan?"

"The escape plan? Ain't no way I'm letting that one-legged chicken act all high and mighty like that. We aren't gonna sit here and accept years of punishment for things he once did with us."

Suddenly recognizing escape as an option, Hongjoong stands up straight. You see a fire burning in his eyes and tricks within his crooked smile. He twirls the dagger around carelessly as he paces in the small box of a cell. With his newfound joy, he examines the bars, the lock, and every crevice that might be used to thwart Wooyoung's scheme and escape from the prison.

"I think this calls for a good old-fashioned bust out. Unless you think you can pick the lock from in here."

You approach the bars, trying to find the perfect angle to see what you need on the lock. However, you can't find the necessary parts to allow you to pick it from awkward angles. Turning to your cellmate, you shake your head.

"Bust out it is. Not as quiet, but it gets the job done all the same." He reaches into the inner pocket of his coat and pulls out a small trinket about the size and shape of a pocketwatch, which confuses you. He must be able to read the confusion on your face, because he explains, "My first mate loves to tinker, and he's made some marvelous contraptions. Stand back at the bars and watch."

Listening to his advice, you stand flush against the metal bars, the cold bleeding through your clothing to leave your skin feeling fresh. He stands next to you, flips the gadget open and closed quickly, and tosses it to the opposite side of the cell. When it connects with the wall, you hear a clicking noise and instinctively close your eyes. In that short moment, you feel Hongjoong move from beside you to in front of you. With the cold on your back and the warmth from his body closely in front of you, you barely process the explosion. When you open your eyes, you see the captain boxing himself around you, framed by the outside light streaming in. You assume it's around midday from how strongly it enters the room, and you try to look anywhere that isn't directly at Hongjoong's face.

He clears his throat as he steps back, "Sorry. I didn't want debris flying into your chest or anything."

Noticing him fiddling with his shoulder, you quickly thank him before asking if he's injured. Although he blows it off, he refuses to turn around, so you know debris likely lodged itself into his upper back. You decide not to fight it until you reach the docks, so you simply make your way over the rubble and out into the sunlight, letting him follow behind to hide his injuries.

Despite the explosion, nobody seems interested when you walk past. The only looks passed your way feel like those typical for known pirates walking around. As you reach the docks again, your crew quickly catches sight of you and rushes off the ship. You're glad that they make it to you long before his crew can see you.

"Mingi, can you tend to him? We blew our way out of jail, and he got hit with debris. He's acting like he's fine, but drag him aboard anyway."

Hongjoong tries to argue, but Mingi ends up behind him and sees the injury. With your first mate yelling at him for hiding it, he can't help but walk onto the Moon Raider for medical help. As he passes you, you sneak a glance at his back and see the top left corner of his otherwise tan shirt torn and stained dark red already. Trying to figure out the trajectory of the rubble, you place your hand on your right shoulder and vow to find Hongjoong a new shirt as thanks for blocking it from hitting you.

After reassuring your crew that everything will be okay and joking that you may be fined for the massive hole in the prison wall, you make your way past your prized ship. Approaching Sun Howler, you receive a much colder reception. Bowing before the ship, you address the first mate.

"Quartermaster of Sun Howler, I wish to inform you that your captain is currently aboard the Moon Raider receiving medical care from my crew. He protected me during an explosion of his creation, so I took it as my role to aid him with our supplies. He will be fine, and we will send him to you once his wound is properly dressed."

As you raise your head, you notice an exceptionally pretty man standing about ten feet in front of you. He nods as you acknowledge him before thanking you for taking care of his captain. You weren't expecting someone who could shine in his own respect to be Hongjoong's right hand, but hearing him speak makes you understand exactly why he would be in such a position. A voice that rivals one of a siren, the grace in his speech patterns, and his subtly decorated uniform all suggest a royal background. You begin to wonder whether he was a runaway or kidnapped and assimilated.

"Stop gawking at Seonghwa, Raider. Don't go stealing someone else's first mate." Hongjoong struts up to you, shirtless other than the bandages circling his chest, back, and shoulder blade.

Although Seonghwa laughs at the comment and explains the situation, Hongjoong doesn't back down in his jests, pointing out Seonghwa's obvious beauty.

"Sometimes, even I swear you're a siren. Even royals don't typically look and sound as good as you. You sparkle, Hwa." He reaches the boy as he talks, placing a hand on his shoulder to emphasize his final sentence.

"Captain, stop with the flattery. A first mate is never as wonderful as the captain, and yet you forbid us from saying those types of comments towards you."

Feeling out of place in the interaction, you quietly excuse yourself and begin walking back to your ship, but Hongjoong calls after you, "Y/N, let's find a new port together."

You try not to react, but the comment makes you trip over the air by your feet. You hope that they don't notice while you continue walking, making your way to your ship to break the news to your crew that you need to find a new home base and likely won't be able to return. Some crew members are quick to show their anger towards Wooyoung, but you reassure everyone with one simple claim.

"If we've done everything we can and they still don't want us here, we shouldn't want to stay either."

You explain how there likely isn't any time for goodbyes since the police likely won't waste time chasing you down again, so you work towards setting sail immediately. Luckily, your crew instinctively filled up on supplies while you were stuck in the cell, so there isn't much left to do.

"Cap'n, there's someone requesting to talk to you. Should we allow him aboard?" A member screams across the ship.

"Who is it?"

"Captain Hongjoong of Sun Howler, sir."

"Let him board."

As your new companion faces you, you address him properly and lead him into your chambers. Motioning to the nearest chair at your desk, you drop the formalities in the privacy of the room. Dragging out another chair to sit in front of him, you ask about the plan. As he recounts the pirates and their known home ports, you deduce that the safest plan would be to sail north, up the coast to the city rivaling this one.

"Won't they shun us away?"

"Didn't you and I once shun each other away and brace this port together regardless? Or what of Wooyoung taking over this city to shun us away from here?"

Nodding in acknowledgment, Hongjoong confirms, "So, we head north? Stop at each port we come across?"

"We might end up too close if we do that. Does your crew have the supplies to sail safely for a week before finding a port? I don't want to taunt Shields too soon; I want to be ready to fight back."

Uncertain of Wooyoung's response to your escape, the captain agrees to meet again in a week's time. After the seventh sunrise, they will look for the closest port. In case of landing at different ports, you agree on a plan to find one another via smoke signals and a trail of coded notes. To stay one step ahead of potential enemies, you assign each other new aliases to use in the notes, basing the initials on the boats' names and their respective quartermasters: Sea Heist Sails and Mightly Reel Mast.

After agreeing on the specifics, you shake Hongjoong's hand and wish him luck on his journey. Leaving you with a quick show of comradery in smiling and claiming that he'll see you in a week, he heads back to the Sun Howler to untie her and set sail. Following his lead, you untie Moon Raider and instruct Mingi to head north, staying near the coastline if possible.

As you drift out of the port, you hear a commotion behind you. Eyes drawn towards the ruckus, you see Wooyoung red-faced and angrily yelling at his guards. As he flails his arms in the direction of your ship, he makes direct eye contact with you. With a smug smile on your face, you remove your hat in a mocking salute, signaling to the man that you've won this round without breaking a sweat.

Tags: @yourfatherlucifer @pyeonghongrie

#cultofdionysusnet #wonderlandnet #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop fanfiction #kpop fic #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfiction #ateez fic #ateez hongjoong #pirate ateez #ateez pirate au #kim hongjoong #hongjoong scenarios #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong fic #hongjoong fanfic

118 notes · View notes

nicoline1998enilocin · 1 year

Note

I'm on my knees for your young and cute tony 😍 I would like see kinda a part two of "the love of my life" (your college student!tony stark x college student!female!reader).

I thought about they sleeping at his parent's house that day and this would be the first time they slept together. At night, tony got snacks and chocolate for them to watch a movie cuddled up in bed, but they start to make out, leading to them having sex, tony is the most romantic, shy and cute guy, but he's also kinky and have a dirty mouth too (romantic, shy and cute tony with dirty mouth and kinky? yes, I need this), they are so lost in each other, that they don't care about the noises and the possibility of his parents hearing them 😂 in the next day, they all have breakfast together and enjoy the summer day! Thanks in advance ❤️

The love of my life | Part 2

PAIRING | College student!Tony Stark x College student!Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 3.2K

SUMMARY | You and Tony are spending the night at his parents' house, but the evening takes a delightful turn when you offer to watch Fifty Shades of Grey together. What follows is the perfect first time for you and Tony, and the two of you are even more in love with each other than you already were.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Smut [ D/S dynamics (Soft!Dom Tony & Sub!Reader), grinding/dry-humping, sir-kink, breeding kink, oral (F receiving), protected sex, squirting, dirty/filthy talk, squirting, fingering, implied aftercare ], swearing.

A/N | Oh, sweet Nonnie, I can't believe you are all trying to bring out my inner hoe with young Tony, but I'm not at all mad about it! I can't wait to find out what you think of the route I took with this one 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💚

Divider is made by @firefly-graphics | 18+ only banner is made by yours truly

Main Masterlist | Tony Stark Masterlist | AU Masterlist

You and Tony are in his bedroom at his parents' house since you'll be staying the night after the barbecue his parents hosted. Since it isn't safe to drive home for a long time, his parents prepared his bedroom, and now you two are getting ready to watch a movie together.

''Any preferences for the movie you'd like to watch?'' Tony asks, and the first movie that comes to mind immediately has you rubbing your thighs together for some relief.

He's standing in front of his closet to get you something comfortable to lounge and sleep in, so he grabs you one of his band shirts and a pair of pajama pants for himself.

''How about Fifty Shades Of Grey?'' you ask innocently as you can.

''What?!'' Tony says, and in his hurry, he hits his head against one of the shelves above his head with a loud thud.

''Oh my god, are you okay?!'' you ask, the movie completely forgotten about, instead making way for worry about your boyfriend.

''Y-yeah, I'm sorry. Did you suggest we watch Fifty Shades?'' he asks, still unsure if he's heard you correctly even though he is entirely correct. That is precisely what you said.

''Well, yeah? I've never seen it, and I thought it might be nice to watch together...'' you say as you shrug your shoulders, your cheeks red at the confession that you want to watch such a dirty movie with him.

''Let's change that then. I'm just going to grab some snacks; if you want, you can change into my shirt and get comfy in bed,'' Tony offers, and you nod.

He leans in for the softest kiss you've ever felt, and your heart might explode with all your love for him.

''Can't wait to have you back again,'' you say, and he gets the cutest shy smile on his face, and you love his shy side.

''Now get me some snacks, or I'll start without you!'' you joke, and he runs to get them.

You change out of your sundress and put Tony's shirt on, which is still long enough to act like a dress, making you giggle. You stand in front of the mirror that hangs on his closet door, and when Tony walks back into his room, he spots you looking at yourself.

''Do you like what you see, Sunshine?'' he asks, standing behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you close.

''I do. But I bet I would look even better when I'm cuddling with you in bed,'' you say as you turn around in his hold.

''Hm, I'm not sure about that, but there's only one way to find out!'' he jokes, grabbing the backs of your thighs, lifting you, and carrying you to the bed after you wrap your legs around him.

''Tony! Careful!'' You squeal as he throws you on the bed, and it's a good thing he has such a soft mattress; otherwise, it would have gone entirely different.

You get comfy under the covers while looking at the snacks he brought on a serving tray: popcorn (both caramel and salty), chocolate, M&M's, Reese's Pieces, and some drinks to wash it down.

''Hmm, you really know how to treat your girl,'' you say, and you can't help but sneak a peek or two when Tony's changing into his pajamas.

''How could I not treat you like this when you're nothing but perfect for me?'' he asks, and when he turns around, you can see the love sparkle in his eyes. God, you're so completely and utterly in love with this man.

It didn't take long into the movie for you to end up on Tony's lap, grinding onto his hardening length while your tongues fight for dominance and your hands explore each other's bodies.

His hands have found their way under your shirt and home on your ass, where he kneads softly to encourage your grinding even more, making him groan softly at the feeling.

''Fuck, Sunshine, you're gonna be the death of me if you keep this up,'' he says as you pull his shirt over his head and throw it onto the floor, but before you can go any further, he stops you.

''Are you sure about this? I mean, I want you to be comfortable and not do anything you're not ready for,'' he says as he rubs your arms slowly and lovingly.

''I'm sure, Tony. I want you, all of you,'' you tell him, and your heart skips a beat at how he looks at you. Adoration, love, it's all visible in the soft features of his face. You cup his cheek with your hand and let your thumb rub gentle circles while you get lost in his eyes.

''I love you, Sunshine,'' he says, and nothing else needs to be said; the moment was perfect. His hands slide under your t-shirt, and he moves it up and over your head, uncovering the dark green lingerie you're wearing underneath.

You can hear Tony's breath hitch in his throat as he first lays eyes on the lacey fabric that's lying perfectly on your skin, all your curves accentuated to make you look angelic. And Tony? His jaw is practically on the floor right now.

Your hands slide over his abdomen and chest until they're wrapping around his neck, and you pull him in for a deep kiss, using the moment to your advantage by sliding your tongue into his mouth right away.

You moan into his mouth as he takes control almost immediately, and he pulls you flush against his chest, needing as much skin-to-skin contact as possible.

Your mind slowly gets a little fuzzy, your inner Sub taking over with the amount of dominance Tony shows, but it only makes you wetter by the minute.

''S-Sir...'' you moan softly when he starts kissing your jaw and hearing you say that makes his cock twitch in his underwear.

''Yeah, fuck, keep calling me that like the fucking slut you are,'' he says, and you moan loud at the words, combined with his kisses along your neck and over the tops of your breasts.

His hands slide over your back and find the clasp of your bra, which he unhooks in a smooth motion while you keep grinding onto him, his rock-hard cock sliding deliciously over your clit to give you the friction you're longing for.

When your bra falls, he throws it on the floor, eager to attach his mouth to your nipples and hear your delicious whines and moans.

''Hmm, sounds like an absolute angel for me,'' he says, and you're getting closer to reaching your orgasm from grinding on him, but you can't get there yet.

''Please, sir, need to cum!'' you moan, and Tony's hand slides between your bodies, his long fingers finding your clit and applying just enough pressure to get you to fall over the edge with a loud moan of his name.

''Hmm, those panties are soaked for me. I'm going to have an amazing feast with that,'' he tells you, and his eyes darken; your own are half-lidded as you look through your lashes at him. Your brain has turned to complete mush with that first orgasm, and all you can think about is him and how good he makes you feel.

''C'mon Sunshine, sit on your hands and knees for Sir,'' he says, pulling you off his lap, manhandling you onto your knees, and yanking your panties down and off your legs.

''Holy fuck,'' he whispers to himself as he sees how the slick drips out of your soaked cunt and onto your thighs, and he can't help but slap on each of your ass cheeks simultaneously.

You let out a high shriek, which only aroused you more, precisely what Tony had hoped for.

''Such a beautiful cunt for me to wreck, Sunshine. Can't believe you've been hiding this beauty from me this entire time,'' Tony says, and without warning, he attaches his mouth to your pussy, licking a stripe from your clit to your entrance.

Your arms give out, you fall forward and present yourself even more for Tony, and he lets out a deep groan that crawls up your spine and goes straight into the fuzziness in your head.

''S-sir! Fuck- feels good!'' you moan as you try and push back against his face. His fingers find your clit once more, and he pinches and rolls it between his fingers, which makes your whine loudly, but neither of you cares about how loud you are being.

Tony keeps lapping at your cunt, his cock straining against his boxer briefs so he frees it, giving himself a little release by wrapping his free hand around the base and squeezing softly, pre-cum leaking from his reddened tip.

His tongue keeps working its way inside you, and you're already nearing your orgasm again.

''Need to cum, Sir! Please,'' you beg, and Tony isn't made of stone, so he permits you to do so.

''Cum for me, Sunshine, cum all over my fucking tongue and fingers. Need Sir's permission to cum, huh? Yeah, you do, you little slut,'' he says, and within no time, your legs start shaking as he picks up the pace, making you squirt all over his face and the bed with a loud moan.

''Sir, please-'' you say as he keeps going, drinking every last drop of your cum that he can, already addicted to your taste. When it's becoming too much, you push him away with the bit of power you have left since your limbs have turned to jelly.

You need a few minutes to regroup, and Tony happily gives you the time; the two of you have all evening.

He gently guides you on your back and lays down beside you, your heart fluttering as he pulls you into his arms and cuddles with you while whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

After some cuddles, kisses, and sweet words, Tony's hand glides down your stomach and finds your cunt, still soaking from your orgasm. His fingers slide through your folds at a lazy pace, and you gasp from the feeling when he sees your clit again.

''Hmm, still so wet. And is that all for me? Is my needy slut still wet for Sir?'' he asks, and you can't answer because words are getting stuck in your throat because of how good you feel. Instead, you let out something between a moan and a whine.

''Gonna make you feel so good you can't think straight for a long time, Sunshine. Going to fucking ruin you for anyone, and you'll be mine forever. Yeah, you want that, huh? Wanna be Sir's little cumslut?'' he asks, and even though you probably shouldn't enjoy this as much as you are, you can't help but get even more aroused because of it.

''S-sir!'' you gasp as two of his fingers enter your entrance, curling immediately and hitting your perfect spot directly.

''Can't wait to pump you full of my cum, plug you up and let that cum stay inside until you're pregnant with my babies. Yeah, I'm going to keep you stuffed full, so you're always going to carry my babies,'' he says as he picks up the pace; you can almost taste the orgasm with how close it is, and your moans are getting desperate.

''Yeah, does my cumslut need my cum pumped inside her? And when it leaks out, she wants it stuffed back in? Fuck, CUM!'' he demands, and without a second thought, you do, again squirting but this time all over his hand and the bed.

''Jesus, such a good girl for me. Doing so perfect when you squirt for me, it's the hottest fucking thing I've ever seen,'' he says, and his cock throbs with anticipation, but he's going to wait just a little longer to touch himself, wanting to feel every single pull and squeeze of your tight cunt.

''Want Sir to stuff you with his cock, huh? Is that what my needy fucking slut needs?'' he asks, and you can't help but whine, tears forming in your eyes from all the pleasure of how good Tony makes you feel.

''Y-yes, please,'' you whisper, and within no time, Tony has grabbed a condom, opened the package, and rolled it on so he could fuck you senseless in his own words.

''I'm gonna go slow for you, Sunshine,'' he says, slowly pushing in, folding your legs and letting them wrap around his back so he has the perfect angle to slide in.

''Fuck, such a tight fucking cunt for me to use, gonna fucking wreck you, Sunshine,'' he says, and you moan softly while he stretches you out, making you feel somewhere north of heaven.

Once he's entirely in, he lets you adjust before setting an agonizingly slow pace to make sure he doesn't cum right away, but he also needs to tease you just enough to give you the most mindblowing orgasm, though that isn't too hard judging by how he fucked you dumb already.

''Gonna move now, Sunshine. God, I already fucked you completely dumb, and I hadn't even put this cock inside you yet. Can't wait to see what a dumb cumslut you're going to be on this fucking thick dick,'' he says, picking up the pace without warning.

''F-f-fuuuuuuck, Sir, yes!'' you scream out as he's pounding into you with a brutal pace, hitting your sweet spot repeatedly until you cum again, but it's not enough for Tony.

''Need one more, Sunshine,'' he says through gritted teeth, groans coming from deep within his chest, and with a few more strokes, he has you right where he wants you to be, right on the edge along with him.

He bends over and never falters his pace, capturing your lips in a soft and sweet kiss, opposite from the way he pounds you into oblivion, and it makes your head reel, but you're enjoying this so much.

''G-gonna cum!'' he almost roars, and with that, he cums inside you, and you're falling over the edge with him, again squirting from the force of your orgasm, and you're entirely spent while you're on cloud nine.

The two of you cuddle for a while until you're back on earth with him, and after, the two of you shower together to clean yourselves off, making sure the sheets are clean, too.

He plucks his shirt off the floor and pulls it over your head before capturing your lips in a sensual, loving kiss, and you've never felt better after having sex with someone.

''God should've done this way sooner,'' you whisper against him as he carries you to bed, having just pulled one of his boxer briefs onto your butt.

''I know, Sunshine. But I'm glad we finally did it. Right now felt like the perfect moment, and I wouldn't have wanted it any other way,'' he says, putting you down so you can crawl under the covers, followed by Tony.

The two of you fall into a deep sleep and only wake up once the sun shines on your faces, telling you a new day has arrived.

''G'morning Sunshine,'' Tony says, and he places soft kisses on your face so he can gently wake you up.

''Morning Love,'' you tell him, and he gets a huge smile, making him look incredibly handsome with the sun shining down on him.

''How did you sleep? And how are you feeling?'' he asks, his hands ghosting a small trail over your thigh, leaving a path of goosebumps behind.

''Slept like a log; you wore me out last night. And other than feeling sore, I'm good. Never been better, actually,'' you tell him, and he's happy to hear it. He gives a few soft pecks on your lips before the two of you cuddle some more, and it's officially time to get up.

You get up and put on your underwear this time, followed by the striped sundress that Tony goes wild for.

Tony wears a casual summer outfit, and once you have finished your hair and decided against wearing makeup today, the two of you go down to the kitchen, where Tony's parents are already preparing breakfast.

''Mornin' lovebirds!'' Maria says your cheeks turn red, realizing they must have heard everything you did.

''Don't worry darling, it's normal,'' Howard assures you, but it doesn't make it any better, so they decide to leave it at that and not embarrass you any further.

''Tony, will you set up the outside eating area? I thought we could all enjoy a nice breakfast outside before enjoying the rest of our day,'' Maria asks, and he nods. You walk outside with him while bringing some plates and cutlery, and he tells you to sit down.

''Don't worry, Sunshine. You can sit that gorgeous butt of yours down and relax. You're a guest in our house, and I refuse to let you lift a single finger if you don't have to,'' he says, giving a small kiss before walking inside and leaving you behind with a huge grin.

''So, what do you guys think of Y/N?'' Tony asks when he walks back into the kitchen, and Maria immediately pulls him in for a hug.

''Don't you dare to let that girl go, Tony. She's the best thing that ever happened to you, and the two of you are made for each other,'' she tells him, and he nods when they pull apart.

''Don't worry, I won't. I plan on marrying her one day,'' he tells his parents, and they have the biggest smiles.

''And when that day comes, we will be right there by your sides, just like we were from the beginning,'' Howard says, and that's the last thing they say before having breakfast outside.

Howard and Maria see how much you love each other; it drips off you. They give each other a knowing look and then continue the conversation like nothing happened, and you immediately feel at ease again.

After breakfast, Howard and Maria went to do some groceries, and you and Tony decided to swim in his pool and take advantage of the beautiful day.

''I love you, Sunshine. I still feel like an idiot when I think about how many times I tried to ask you to dance, but I'm so happy I did it. You're the piece I was missing, and now that I found you, my life is complete,'' he says, and you're getting tears in your eyes.

''I love you too, My Love. I feel like the luckiest woman on this earth to call you my boyfriend, to have you by my side through everything. And I can't wait to grow old with you and start a big family together,'' you say.

The two of you are in a tight embrace for a while, not ready to let each other go yet, but when Howard and Maria are back from the shops, you both get out and help them put everything away.

You still can't believe how fortunate you are, and you feel the most happy and loved when you're with these three people. They all make life worth living, and you thank your lucky stars daily.

#tony stark #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark fanfic #tony stark one shot #tony stark imagine #tony stark request #tony stark x female!reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark fluff #tony stark smut

58 notes · View notes