#and by that time his father already knows? that hes looking for permission to leave. he doesnt say it. he just looks.

[bumblydumbly]

i think that if kabru saw that “laios meeting falin for the first time” strip he’d be sobbing uncontrollably

[lexirosewrites]

Day 14: Second Chance Romance

for @stmarchmm

Widows are supposed to have their time to grieve. They should be allowed to cry and adjust to their new life in peace, mourning their spouse in private.

Steve doesn’t mourn because he never loved his alpha in the first place.

But he’s not given any time before being sold off again regardless.

“I married Henry because you forced me to. I stayed with him as you asked. I was a good omega and faithful wife even though I had no choice. Why are you doing this to me again?” Steve dares to ask his parents.

He’s not distressed about Henry’s sudden death, but it’s too much all at once.

Leaving his home for the past ten years was a lot. Packing up and returning to Hawkins with the hopes of being accepted back into his family’s house was the minimum he had expected.

They haven’t even given him time to unpack before breaking the unhappy news.

“Steven, he can provide for you,” his mother states.

“I don’t care what kind of man he is! I obeyed your wishes once already. Can I not have a moment alone before you put me back to auction like the prized bitch you’ve made me into?” he snarls out.

Ten years with Henry has made him less docile, less willing to comply blindly.

Compliance has only ever offered him heartbreak.

Mrs. Harrington flinches back, seeming surprised by her son’s reaction. As if she was sure Steve would quietly agree to this.

As if she hadn’t stolen him away from the alpha he planned to spend his life with a decade ago.

She and his father ruined his life, selfishly destroyed his love.

They’d had his secret suitor arrested for daring to touch Steve without their permission. Then they’d only agreed to have Eddie released if Steve was obedient in marrying Henry.

He’d had no choice but to give up his personal freedom for the only man he’d ever truly loved.

And Eddie… ran away.

Now they have the gall to act surprised by his rage.

Henry dying was supposed to be Steve’s ticket to starting over anew. Eddie’s long gone, but he could still be an independent omega with his own life.

No pups with Henry to tie him down or keep him locked away at the Creel estate.

“Steven, come now, you’re being unreasonable. You haven’t even met your new alpha,” his father chastises. “He paid more than double your asking price and will no doubt keep you in comfort.”

They’re slightly more civil than they used to be, but Steve’s older and less afraid of them now too.

“I won’t do it. Henry didn’t care that I wouldn’t accept a mating bite, but what of this new one? Did you even ask him? Did you even think of me?” he challenges.

They have the nerve to look ashamed, but they give no real response to the questions.

It’s all he needs to hear to know their answers.

Steve lets out a shaky breath, attempting to calm himself. Maybe he’s gotten through to them and they’ll reconsider their decision.

This argument is fruitless either way.

He returns to his old room for the evening. It’s become guest quarters now, but it’ll do until he can make other arrangements.

It’s no surprise that he rests fitfully, mind full of anxiety over the future Steve’s parents are planning.

From the moment he presented as an omega, they’d only ever seen him as a burden and something to be profited from.

A meal ticket for them, rather than a beloved and cherished child.

That’s a key part of why Steve refused to have children with Henry. Henry was from an old family with traditional values like his own.

Steve was his obedient wife and any pups they produced would’ve been pawns in their chess game of society just the same.

He simply wouldn’t play the game anymore.

Losing his true love was already more than he’d ever willingly gamble again.

Even if he ran away and became an omega outcasted from proper society, Steve can’t imagine an outcome worse than the one he’d already endured.

What is there left to lose anymore?

His life has no real value.

That bleak thought is what finally lulls him to sleep.

When Steve wakes, it’s from men grabbing him out of his bed and dragging him into a carriage— an eerie flashback to ten years prior.

He should’ve known. His parents had done the same thing to him before.

A coward’s tactic.

Snatch him in the middle of the night and send him away before he can devise an escape plan.

He’s already crying before he’s even made it into the carriage properly, kicking and screaming without success as he’s shoved into the closed space against his wishes.

Nobody seems to care how he feels.

“Oh, sweetheart, shhhh. It’s alright now. Please don’t shed anymore tears, my love.”

Small correction: one person seems to care.

He’s not alone in the carriage evidently. A change from the last time. Henry had waited at the manor for him to arrive, not directly involved in his kidnapping.

But there’s a man in here with him.

It’s dark in the carriage, difficult to make out features beyond a groomed beard and exquisite garments whose gold filament threads pick up the moonlight.

As his parents said, his alpha must be a fairly wealthy man to offer more than double his asking price.

Steve is sure his price is far lower than it was before.

Widows who have left their prime years and have yet to produce a pup aren’t exactly as highly desired as virgins.

Still, there must be a reason this stranger wanted him and is speaking to him with such an affectionate familiarity.

“Please leave me be. I beg of you, sir. My late husband just passed recently and I’m not in a state fit to be a wife again yet. I wish to grieve in solitude,” he pleads shakily, staying as far away from the alpha as he can in the cramped space.

The alpha is unnervingly silent. A bad sign.

“I don’t mean to offend you, sir,” Steve rushes to clarify.

This man may well own him and make his life miserable if Steve managed to offend him already. Henry was many things, but senselessly cruel wasn’t one of them.

His new alpha could possibly be much worse than his last.

“So you did fall in love with him then?”

Steve is taken aback by the bold statement. It would be odd for him to admit the truth, but something in him says he shouldn’t lie.

“He was my husband. I held no other sentiments for him beyond societal bonds.”

The alpha shifts closer to him.

Steve runs out of space to move, so he plants himself firmly in his seat, trying to appear unafraid.

“I spent the last ten years of my life trying to rescue you, Stevie. Ten years of working hard and saving and doing anything to elevate myself to the status of a man who could afford to keep you.”

It doesn’t click right away. Not until the moonbeams come through the window just right and hits the alpha’s face.

He’s not just any alpha.

He’s Eddie, the love of Steve’s life. The man he gave up his future for and never thought he’d see again.

A former pauper boy, now wealthy and older.

Returned to save him.

Eddie cups his cheek gently, locking eyes with Steve and conveying shared feelings without words.

He kisses his nose.

“You came back,” Steve states in wonder.

“I poisoned him,” Eddie confesses without an ounce of remorse. “I knew Henry wouldn’t let you go, but I needed you to know that I still love you. I needed to free you from him.”

He should be upset with Eddie, but it’s the most romantic thing he’s ever heard.

Eddie didn’t flee town and look out for himself all those years ago, as would’ve been the wise choice

He’s returned as his alpha.

“You didn’t run away, Eddie.”

“I’d never run anywhere you couldn’t follow me, Steve.”

[kosije]

sins in silk

c/w ★ ׂ duke!miguel ohara x princess!reader, they are from different kingdoms, mentioned age-gap, forbidden love aspect, pregnancy kink, mentions of masturbation, unprotected sex, creampie, mutual head, fingering, size kink, art cred: kammie_arts1903

"Princess, the Grand Duke is here. May I bring him in?"

"Show him to the study for now. Tell him I will be right out. Be sure to thank the Grand Duke for his patience."

"Yes, Princess."

"Oh, Will?"

"Yes, Princess?"

"After you inform the Duke, please excuse everyone to their chambers, yes?"

"But princess, you know if the king found out we had left your side, even with the Grand Duke we could lose our-"

"I will not let that happen. So please, Will, do this for me."

All though apprehensive, your servant bows and disappears from your room, in long strides to the Duke.

It's the 5th time this month he has come to the estate. Always with the intention to see the King and ruminate. And despite him being so much older than you, your father's closest friend and strongest connection to the 2099 kingdom, and is only to wed a woman from his territory, each time he has come has left you tangling a hand in your silk sheets, hushed cries of the Duke's name left to fall from your wet lips in a silent plea.

Every time he drops by unannounced, talks to your father, and leaves. Every time he has his salt and pepper sprinkled brown hair combed back away from his face, showing the wrinkles on his forehead. Every time his eyes have focused on you, running over you like the pretty oil portrait that hangs above the study's mantle as his jaw flexes brows furrow, something in you ignites and the yearning becomes almost palpable.

Never does he say more to you than a few words, only acknowledging you after with how his body tenses when you're around. He runs as cold as the marble under your feet as you move to your vanity to reapply your perfume and shift your dress to expose enough of your collarbone without looking intentional. You're buzzing at the thought of seeing him, taking the rollers out of your hair with bubbling anticipation. This is the first time he's come amidst nightfall and the first time you two will be alone. With your hands resting to your front, you walk to the study well aware of how low your neckline is dipping while high pillared walls with paintings of cherubs and past battles trail you illuminated by ivory candles.

When you push past tall burgundy doors, you're greeted by the sight of Grand Duke of 2099, Miguel O'hara, who's stretching his back with two large hands on his hips. The deep groan he lets out makes your skin flush, and when his cold gaze meets yours you almost shiver. His eyes drift from your face to just right where your dress exposes a bit of the fat on your breast, and you smile when you hear him suck in a breath.

"What do I owe the pleasure, Your Grace?" His eyes tear from your chest as he focuses on the crackling fireplace.

"Just here to see your father, is he near?" He asks, brown eyes fixing back onto yours. Your smile only widens.

"I'm afraid the King is away, but he should be returning soon, you are more than welcome to stay 'till his return."

"I shouldn't-"

"Humor me, Your Grace. After all, I am a bit lonely without my father to talk to." you say, batting your eyelashes at him bashfully.

Apprehension is so clear on his face, but still he nods, straightening his white button up and waiting for you to go on.

"Follow me," you say, walking back down the hall until you reach your room.

"Princessa, I will not go further, this is inappropriate. A young lady shouldn-"

"'M not as young as I was before. Surely you can agree, no?"

"Even so," He coughs. "That is not the point-"

"You should have no trouble entering. I have already given my permission."

He doesn't look convinced.

"Do you not trust me? Have I done wrong by you?"

"That is not it, Princessa-"

"Then please, my duke, time is slipping right past us." you whisper, slipping through the doors, intentionally brushing your hand across his thigh. You grin when you hear his shaky breath, and hear your door not only close, but lock.

"What is it that you have here that we couldn't be anywhere else for?"

"Are you putting on an act," you ask him, turning around to face him still at a distance. "Or are you truly this aloof, Your Grace?'

"I’m sorry?-"

"I have a confession," you say. walking closer and closer until his breath is caught in his throat, and your lips are just a nudge away from his.

"My father won't be returning anytime soon." And suddenly, it seems it has clicked in his head, as his eyes darken.

"This can not happen."

"You're right," your hand is pressed up against his chest.

"Someone could hear us," He whispers, making no effort to push you away.

"I've already dismissed everyone to their chambers."

"If your father ever found out there could be a war," he tries to argue, but his head is still dipping down, ghosting over your lips.

"We have all night to just the two of us."

And just a second after saying that, he kisses you. His lips are hot, hungry, and experienced in the way they move against yours, swallowing your every breath. His hands find your waist, but he hesitates and you can tell he hasn't given in completely. And something about that excites you.

You pull away from his lips, leaving him noticeably confused until your hand reaches down and palms his cock, happy at the way he's already hard.

"Do you know just how long I've been wanting this?" You ask shifting him around you.

He doesn't say anything, only shakes his head "No."

"Ever since the day you came back to visit, I haven't been able to think of anything else." When you push him down on the edge of your bed, he shivers when you drop to your knees and play with the button on his slacks.

"Every night, I touch myself on these sheets to the thought of you." You confess, finally free him from his pants, leaving him in the thin fabric of his underwear, painfully soaking up the front of them with his pre.

"Princessa," He finally says in almost a whine. "If you say things like that I'm afraid I won't be able to hold back."

And dipping your hand under his waistband to grip his cock, you savor how thick and heavy he feels and the groan he lets out with a kiss to his base. You can't deny the bit of worry that flushes through you when you see just how big he is. Thick beads of cum pulse out of him that you lick up hungrily, humming at how you can feel hus veins on your tongue.

"Then please, Your Grace. Give me everything."

That seems to shatter his self control, because suddenly he has a hand in your hair and a hand on his cock as he forces your lips over his angry brown head.

"You're such a damn tease, you know that?" He gritts out, bullying his cock all the way to the back of your throat and then some. You gag and choke around him, already feeling your throat burn and eyes well up.

"Always coming around me with your father with your body on display in those cute little gowns, batting those pretty little eyes at me when you talk. What would your father think if he knew all of that was because you were trying to get my attention?" He coos between groans while using your face like just a vessel to get off, and your cunt starts dripping. "Just so I could fuck your pretty mouth like this?"

You can't do anything but moan around him, croaking out gasp when he finally lets you catch your breath before immediately pulling you back down onto his dick rapidly as snot mixes in with tears, spit, and cum starts to drip down your jaw and onto your floor. He begins to unbutton his shirt, before tearing it off completely, leaving buttons to fly across your room. Looking up through teary eyes you take in the way his usually combed back hair sticks to his sweaty forehead messily, as his abs tense and relax with every rapid breath as his mouth lulls open with lidded eyes, moaning when he sees just how well you swallow him.

Swiftly, you run your tongue over the slit of his cock, hearing him whine, and feeling the grip on your hair tighten enough to burn your scalp. Your throat aches with every heavy thrust that only spurs on the throbbing between your thighs as your hands play with his balls and he stutters in your mouth, shooting his seed down your throat, midst mumbling praises.

Without word or warning, he flips you over, effectively pinning you down to your bed once he's come down from his high. His large calloused hand runs up and down your thigh before tossing your nightgown up, and he groans at the sigh.

"You needed me so bad you didn't wear anything under this frilly thing? What a filthy girl." He grins, slapping your dripping cunt and drinking up your moan in a kiss.

"Your Grace,"

"That's not what you should be calling me." He grits, crouching down to his knees to lick a stripe up your throbbing pussy.

"M-miguel,"

"Yes, Princessa?"

"Please."

"Please what, Princessa?" He says, licking another stripe, but slower.

"Please...don't tease me." You whimper, muffling your moans with the back of your hand.

"And what shall I do instead?"

"Kiss me harder, please. I need it, Mig-" and your sentence is cut off by the feeling of his nose kissing your clit as he buries his face into your sopping heat, groaning at the way you suck his tongue in. You're writhing at the feeling, but when you feel one of his calloused fingers push through you, you lose your vision for a second.

"Fuck- you're even tighter than I thought you were," he groans, and you feel your body ignite at his admission.

"You'd think of me?" You ask with such a worn out voice, Miguel's hips buck up in search of any friction at all.

"All the damn time. Would fuck my hand everyday over those pretty eyes and lips, imagine how pretty you'd look all happy and spent, with the image of my love spilling out of you." He confesses, speeding his assault on your hole, hitting spots with his fingers you could only dream of, before latching his mouth back on and fucking you with his tongue and fingers. The arousal in you was rushing through you like a wave and just after a strangled moan it blows out of you in pleasurable burst that leave you flushed. He hungrily drinks you up like a starved man until you're whining from the sensation.

When he rises from the floor he doesn't bother wiping your slick from his mouth, only laughs at your fucked out expression, and runs his lips over yours, amused by how you trail after him. Annoyed, you wrap your hands around his collar and pull his lips onto yours, gasping and licking into his mouth. Between the taste of you on his tongue, his rock-hard cock rubbing against your puffy folds as your hands run through his sweaty hair.

"Gonna give me one more?" He asks, voice low like gravel.

"I'll do anything for you, Miguel. Anything you want."

He kisses you again, a passionate thing as you both whine at the feeling of him bullying into you.

"'Ts too big, Mig- oh! S-slow down!" You cry, but his hand slaps the fat of your thigh and grips it, hitting you even deeper at a fast pace. The pain is still there, but feeling of pleasure is much more intense. And it only skyrockets when you hear his voice.

"Sshhh sweetheart. You're-fuck-already taking me so well. so damn tight around me. Be good and take what I give you. So I c-can tell your father what a nice cunt his perfect little girl has." He rasps, pounding you even deeper than before, and your nails dig up the fabric of your sheets, leaving fabric frayed in long scratches. One hand grips your thigh as the other moves up your dress to tweak and grope your breast, making you clench down around him. He drawls out a curse as his head falls into the crook of your neck, inhaling the smell of your sweat and perfume that makes him impossibly more needy to where he's plowing through you in quick hard strokes that move your bed to knock against your walls, shaking the shelf above you.

His teeth sink into your neck, almost as a mark of ownership, before sucking a bruise into your skin, continuing his markings lower and lower to focus them on your breast. Your back arches at the sting and you cry out at the imposing feeling building up inside you.

"Such a pretty girl," he says, leaning over to look you in your eyes, studying the gaping of your mouth and tugging on your brows as your orgasm builds up. His eyes are trained on you, as he throbs inside you, stimulating you further.

"I'm close-" you whimper, voice cracking as he licks a stripe up your neck.

"Yeah?" He asks, smirk practically audible as he hums in your ear. "Do it. Squeeze me, sweetheart."

It only takes a few heavy strokes to hit your sweet spot before you are gushing around him, making his thrust sporadic and moans louder.

"Yes-shit- let me fill you up. I'll give you an heir, and then I'll-hah- fuck you again, and again, and again."

"Yesyesyes, please." You think you exclaim, but can't tell if you said it out loud or just in your head because of how overestimated you are. His hand rubs circles on your clit, and your toes curl as your heels dig into the muscle of his back.

"Fuck- I'm gonna-" He spits out, just before spilling his seed into your cunt, carefully riding out his orgasm inside you while pushing his cum deeper into your womb. His palm stretches over the expanse of your chest as he leans down to kiss just above your belly button. The room is quiet now that he is still inside you, and you watch Miguel lean down to kiss you once more, in the form of a soft peck to your swollen lips. Once he pulls back, he leaves you briefly before returning with a warm damp cloth that he wipes you down with. Once he is done, he discards it into a bucket and lies himself down next to you.

"If we continue to do this," he says, carefully pulling out of you. "We will eventually have to tell your father."

"You're right," you whisper scared, but when you feel his strong arm pull you flush against his chest, hope surges through you and you bury your face into his warm body.

"We'll need to get up early, the maids would appreciate finding us like this."

"We'll be fine. After all, a pregnancy will shock them far more than this."

"I'm sure it will," he laughs, kissing your forehead.

Since envelops the two of you, as you notice his breathing deepen.

"Your, Grace-"

"Miguel," he corrects, eyes dancing across your face with a small smile.

"Miguel, my father will be gone on the next full moon."

"The next full moon, huh?" He asks no one at all, pushing your hair behind your ear.

It’s bittersweet asking him to sneak around with you again. And yet, all he says is a simple "Okay," placing a kiss to the palm of your hand, and you understand what the gesture is:

A promise.

[st4rfckerz]

i’ve been thinking about this tooo much.

MDNI 18+

The tall glass building loomed in front of you, reflecting the sunlight in a shimmering display of modern architecture. You grab Sam's hand, feeling the callouses on his fingers as you ascend the steps towards the entrance. The automatic doors slide open, revealing a sleek lobby lined with marble floors and contemporary art installations.

"So this is where your old man works, huh?" Sam glances around the lavish lobby, looking up at the high ceiling, his gaze occasionally catching sight of the impressive artwork adorning the walls. You nod, leading him towards the elevator bank. "Yeah, he’s worked here since I was a baby. They're usually pretty cool about me bringing people in. Just don't touch anything too expensive, alright?" You smirk, trying to lighten the mood before stepping into the elevator, pushing the button for the floor where your dad's office is located.

As the elevator doors slide shut behind you both, sealing you inside the small metallic box, Sam’s hand creeps up, brushing your ass gently.

“Sam, no.” you drag your words, warning Sam to not go any further. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you find yourself leaning into him even more. "Come on, you scared?" he whispers softly, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin. The closeness between you two intensifies, making it difficult to concentrate on anything other than the rising tension. Sam tries to plant a kiss to your lips but you turn your head and push him away, laughing at his sudden neediness.

“No quit it! Not here-” You turn your head away again just to have Sam grab your jaw to make you face him again. His lips press firmly against yours, the urgency of his kiss leaving no room for doubt. As he pulls you closer, your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, holding onto him tightly. His lean body supports yours effortlessly, enveloped by the confined space of the elevator. The faint sound of the creaky gears echo in the background, reminding you of the steady ascent to your father's office, but all you can think about is the man whose tongue now caresses yours.

His hands trace down your back, finding purchase on your hips, pulling you closer still. The passion and desperation in his kiss leave you weak in the knees, making it hard to catch your breath. Sam’s hand glides down your waist, slowly making its way under the hem of your pants. His fingers finally slip beneath your underwear, feeling the damp fabric against your arousal. A satisfied smile spreads across his face, and he lets out a low growl, the vibrations of which you feel all over. "Too easy," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

Sam’s fingers slide easily inside you, his thumb rubbing your clit in circular motions, adding to the already intense sensations. “F-fuck Sam…” Your eyes flutter, reacting to his skilled touch as your body responds eagerly. The elevator inches towards your floor, but at this moment, it feels like time stands still.

"Shhh, baby, let it happen," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. His words serve as permission, and soon enough, your body trembles as an orgasm courses through you. Sam holds you tighter, letting you ride out the most unexpected and exhilarating climax inside the elevator.

Finally, the elevator comes to a halt, the familiar ding breaking the spell of intimate pleasure. As the doors open, Sam releases you and sticks his fingers in his mouth, his face plastered with cockiness and pride knowing he just took you to new heights.

[lilacgaby]

˗ˏˋdie for you.ᡣ𐭩

after an attempt on your life, the royal family turns to promising young blood, hoping to find someone to protect you. katsuki was chosen and ended up dedicating himself to you in a way even he never predicted.

✩pair. knight!katsuki x princess!reader tags. fem!reader, royalty, no quirk au, swords, violence, pet names, reader is referred to as she/her, fighting, fluff, happy ending, wc. 7k

✩note. this is like really old, i decided to let it graduate from draft jail while i work on the otherr

A sword at your throat. the familiar weight of your crown on your head.

that's all that you processed before it faded to black.

who knew a walk in the garden would be so dangerous? the attempts on your life were growing more frequent by the day, the recent tensions between your kingdom and the villages surrounding it just fueling the violence.

of course, this, much like the other three attempts in the past week hadn't worked. the witches and wizards around you successfully poisoning the man holding you and killing him instantly.

it barely shook you anymore, the feeling of waking up in your bed safe and sound after being threatened. perhaps you were getting too used to the sensation of being in danger.

but this didn't help you in the case of your mother, who worried, and rightfully so. they had called you into the grand courts the next morning, giving you a day of reprieve before letting you in on the plans.

“[name].” your father, the king spoke. his eyes looking sorrowfully down at you, as if he pitied you. “we will be searching for new crowns guard members and keeping you under full time surveillance from now on. these attempts are

becoming more and more common, and you have no means of defending yourself.”

you sighed, crossing your arms. “i don't have any say in this? being under constant watch is disgraceful.”

“my dear, it is only what's necessary! i argued over this in your stead for days, but with these recent attempts.. it is what needs to be done.” your mother pleaded with you.

a moment of silence passed over, thoughts flowing like a waterfall through your mind. knowing she had the final word, you bowed in mock agreement. “i give you my full permission to do whatever needs to be done.”

“very well then, fetch me the fresh blood.” the king barked. “only the best, i want a good bunch weeded out before the trials.”

at this, the consultants bowed and rushed out to the villages. the trip to the village was almost an hour away, and people working for the royals were not very favored at this moment because of the strained relationship. the horses led them to the villages, the sound of their stomps the first evidence of the new arrival's presence in the town.

katsuki, who had been sharpening his swords outside, was the first of the young men in the village to see the royal carriages arrive. with a glare, he waltzed over to the central square, where many others had already gathered.

“i apologize for the intrusion!” a man, wearing silks worth more than a house stood, speaking quite loudly. “we have job opportunities for any young soldiers in training! if you pass the king’s trial, your family will be greatly compensated. any willing to enter, please,” he stepped over to gesture to the carriage with empty spots. “gather your belongings and settle into the carriage before sundown. thank you!”

katsuki scoffed, looking over at the other imbeciles who thought this would be their big break. did he care for royals at all? no. but this would be a way to climb to the top. a way to become a big name. so, he'd go.

he walked right back to his mother's store, a tailoring business, and starting packing. “i'm leaving.” he announced to her and his father, a satchel packed and swung around his arm as he looked nonchalantly.

his mother only waved a hand. “go do whatever you'd like, but don't die.”

his father, with a tearful expression, wished him good luck with a smile. “you'll do amazing son.. though i don't know where exactly you're going. you've always been destined for greatness.”

“of course i am. don't fail the business in my absence.” he turned and walked out of the only home he'd ever known, to go and see what these royals were all about.

he was sat next to a lot of the village boys he'd grown up with, a bunch of them must have lost hope, because the numbers dwindled down severely. with a smack of a whip, the horses began to move, guiding the now twelve men to the kingdom.

the estate was even more huge up close, the golden sunlight from the fleeing sun making the castle seem all the more impressive. even katsuki couldn't help but voice his opinion, muttering under his breath, “wow.”

they were dropped off in front of the main door of the castle, leading to the main chamber. the twelve nervously walked in, greeted by the sight of the king’s piercing eyes, and the queen's grateful smile.

“is this all who came then?” the king said, his voice bellowing throughout the castle. at a man’s nod, he began to address the villagers.

“you all, i offer my thanks for your participation. recently, multiple uprisings have been taking place in different villages. ones that have threatened my daughter’s life. we've done our best to keep this out of the news, so most of you have not heard of this before, correct?”

the boys all nodded, surprised at the revelation that the princess might have been killed.

“the reason why i sent out for you, is because i want not only a personal guard for my daughter, but a crowns guard protecting the perimeters of the castle. all of you, for even arriving here, will be getting paid handsomely.

but, to ensure only the best is personally assigned for my daughter, you will all be dueling right now.”

surprised gasps echo and bounce off the walls, none of them were prepared, but katsuki was determined to win even in this odd situation.

“you may be forced to fight in the middle of the night or the middle of a garden, being ready at all times is key for a successful knight. if you fall to the floor you lose, this is an all out battle, so do what you must to win.”

the queen personally handed out training swords made of wood to each of them, making them all bow in thanks. even katsuki felt honored in a way, the queen’s presence the very essence of royal.

they all assumed fighting stances. since there were no rules other than to stay up, it meant they'd need to be aware of all possible threats from any direction.

“begin.”

katsuki went in with guns blazing, knocking a man to the floor instantly. others charged at him at the same time, so with a timed dodge he made them collide, then eliminated them simultaneously.

it was obvious that the king had been taken by katsuki. his eyes locked onto him, small commentary between the queen and him as they examined the way he fought, his fighting style brute yet calculated.

there was now only three left, the weaker of the men being taken out the fight in a flash. katsuki let them take the first move, them naturally charging at eachother because of their proximity.

with a smart move, katsuki knocked them over as they were on the offense, kicking the other’s lower body to knock them over.

applause rang out through the court, servants and consults clapping for him. even the king and queen gave him their respects. katsuki could only smirk, he really was destined for greatness.

“it's decided then, you my lad, will be assigned to my daughter’s detail tomorrow morning. tell me your name.”

he pointed his sword at the king, making the servants appear applauded at his audacity. “katsuki bakugo. don't you forget it.”

the king could only let out a hearty laugh. “i don't think i could bakugo. as for the rest of you, you all fought valiantly. you will all be assigned your positions tomorrow by the head of the knights. bakugo, follow that young lady over there. you will sleep in only our best chambers.”

he smirked victoriously as he followed the older servant, his satchel in her grasp. with a polite smile, she walked with him down the hallways. he decided to question her about this princess, wondering if she'd be stuck up. “hey, lady.” he asked, making the girl jump.

“ah.. yes?”

“this princess of yours, how's she act? stuck-up?” he questioned, noting the way the servant’s eyes seem to get offended for her. “no, no! i've worked for many princesses you see, and she's been the most gracious one i've had the pleasure of serving.” he nodded to signal he was listening, as she continued.

“she has her moments of frustration, but never takes it out on her staff. she's a very kind princess, the future of this kingdom is safe in her arms. that's what i believe young man.” the lady finished, stilling in front of a large door. “this is where you'll be staying, the princess herself stays in the room across the hallway. from when she wakes up you will need to be there, so get some sleep.”

she opened the door, revealing a huge bedroom the size of his shop. the bed weaved of silk and linen, pillows feathery soft, a gorgeous window offering a view of the moon. there was even an area dedicated to just weaponry, not to mention his own private bathroom. he felt speechless as he was left alone there, the clothes he wore feeling unfit for this new environment.

he fell asleep pondering this new life of his. wondering if this was going to be worth the headache of being at some princesses hand and feet.

he was woken up by the same old lady, embarrassed of how deep of a slumber he'd been in. those sheets were heavenly, he'd have to get some for his parents back home.

he was given royal clothing, the cloth feeling light and refreshing on his skin. a purple band around his arm signifying his connection to you. as he put his sword on his back, he walked over to the room across his. he knocked on the door and waited.

the sight that greeted him made him think he had died and went to heaven. the old lady had never mentioned just how gorgeous you were, the silk night robe clinging to your figure in all the right ways, your face still dreamy from being half-asleep, your hair slightly messy from how you slept on it.

“hello?” you said, your hands holding the door open while eyeing the handsome knight outside your room. he was very clearly eyeing you, you'd be flattered if you weren't so sleepy. “are you my new knight?”

those words finally snapped him back into reality. “um.. yes. yes i am. im bakugo.” he replied, standing tall and at attention now. “oh, okay. come in bakugo. i'm [name].” you stuck your hand out for him to shake, but he had to bite back the urge to kiss it.

he didn't know why he was panicking so bad, this had never happened before. he had known several gorgeous women back in town, ones that had even come on to him, but you were on a different league to them.

he had always laughed and joked about those knights who'd willingly lay their lives down for a princess, but he'd never understood them more then when he was just in your presence.

he shook your hand tightly, before letting go and just standing awkwardly. “i don't really.. know what to do.” he said honestly. “you don't have to watch me all day, just don't leave me alone. i think.” you said before going back to lay on your bed. “i don't have any meetings or stuff today so, i can give you a tour around here if you want? i don't feel like just doing nothing all day.”

“anything you want princess.” the words had slipped out his mouth before he could process it. he'd smack his hand over his mouth if he could, but he didn't want to embarrass himself further. you didn't seem to notice his turmoil though, stretching and walking over to your bathroom. “okay, that settles it then. you can lay on my bed while you wait for me bakugo.”

you changed into a casual everyday dress, choosing the one with the easiest corset to tie yourself. basic makeup and hairstyle aside, you walked out ready to take him around.

after styling your hair, you grabbed his hand off where he was sat on the bed. “let's go!”

you were going to be the death of him.

your words were barely processed as he was enthralled by the sight of you. your mouth was moving yet he couldn't hear anything more than the sound of his beating heart. your skin was glowing, lips soft and plump, eyes shining and full of intrigue.

his hands grew sweaty, he hoped you didn't notice as you pulled him along with you for the fifteenth time today. you'd finally finished he though, until you revealed you'd only gotten through one floor. you laughed at his distressed expression, and brought him out to the garden instead.

“this is my favorite spot.” you admitted, taking him to farthest side of the garden where you could get a view of the village. his village. “i wish i could visit, it seems so.. inviting, you know?”

“that's where i live.” he pointed to the house on the edge of the village, although it was small from his perspective, he could recognize the cloths laying outside from miles away. “my family owns that shop, i practiced outside there everyday.”

your eyes grew wide, smiling at the news. “really? that was you? i always saw someone running around there.”

he flushed, he'd never realized he'd had an audience. especially not a royal one. “youre not lying right?”

“of course not. people watching is all i really do out here, besides almost get killed you know?”

“huh.. those are two very interesting hobbies.” you smacked his arm playfully. he decided to keep telling you about the village. pointing out the villages, explaining what happens inside, telling you about his daily life back there.

he felt your eyes on him the entire time, though thankfully he was starting to get more used to your presence.

they had brought dinner out for the two of you, the spread being larger than katsuki ever had in his dreams. the amount of meats, salads, cheeses, and wines on the table would've lasted his family for months he thinks.

“choose whatever you'd like bakugo.” you invited. he nodded and started to eat, you did too. most of the items went uneaten though, you two getting full before even eating half of it.

“it's okay, they'll save this so don't feel bad.” you assured, taking his hand a final time. “i'm kind of sleepy though so, i'm gonna head to bed.” he followed you back to your room, feeling like a boyfriend leaving his girlfriend at her home when you left him with a, “goodnight bakugo.”

the next day was one where he actually had to work. sitting around your bed as the servants surrounded you, tightening the corset around you, doing your hair, and finishing off with your makeup. he followed you and your entourage as they led you to the meeting room.

he stood by your chair as various other royals came up to you and your family. he was surprised at the utter lack of awareness they seemed to have, asking for large sums of money and help with no embarrassment.

'aren't rich people supposed to be fancy? why do they ask for things more than the poor?’ he pondered, looking down at you and your bored expression.

for some reason, the topic of your hand in marriage was a recurring topic whenever the foreign royals didn't seem to get far. they'd talk about you like some object, a prize to be won.

all you'd do was yawn in boredom your father denying every request that day. no wonder everyone wanted to murder you.

a knife was flung at you faster than anyone could process, the only sound was the unsheathing of katsuki's sword in response. he was now in front of you, the knife in his hand as the guards swarmed the royal who had attacked you.

the king and queen looked at him in respect, as you did in awe.

that happened a lot more over the months, you and him grew closer and closer, but any public meeting where your attendance was needed would be a hotspot for potential attempts.

you had started to grow enamored with him too, his name slowly changing to a more familiar “katsuki.” his presence being by your side even when it wasn't required, you would test the bounds of his physical affection more. the sight of you two hugging as you read was not a strange one anymore, in fact it was preferred for the both of you.

he used to only had seen you as a stepping stone for his success, a rock in the bridge for his assent to victory. but as he held you in his arms, hearts in his pupils as he doted over you silently, he knew he was too far gone.

late night talks turned into affection shared between you. forbidden kisses and pleasures untold as you held eachother through the night.

his room began to dust, his bed going unused as he'd be with you eternally. it became an armory more than anything, as whenever he'd finish up any business he'd find himself running back to your side. he wished to live eternally there.

he was in his room once, disrobing after spending another day with you. he was lost in thought, before he heard you scream. he ran out, sword unsheathed, eyes rabid and wide as he saw the tip of a sword pressed against your neck, blood dripping down as the offender held you as a shield.

“you're a villager too aren't you? don't you realize with the death of the princess the kingdom will surely fall?” the man spoke, deepening the sword into your throat as katsuki gripped the hilt of his so hard he thought it'd snap. “i am a villager. im a villager at heart and in soul. but killing someone without any affinity other than blood is purely idiotic.”

the man scoffed, throwing you to the floor and making you groan. his boot pressed onto your back as his sword hung over your vital organs. “i see. you choose to be a dog.

even so, if you do behead me here it will achieve nothing. we want change, change that cannot be achieved without th–”

“shut up.” katsuki swung his sword through the heart of the man. “don't look up [name].” he directed, before throwing the man out of your window where he had broken in from. he watched as he fell to the ground, the blood of his body painting the pristine white roses red. he closed the window, closing the blinds just for precaution. you were looking at him, eyes wide and white with fear. your hands shaking

he looked at you, an expression in your eyes you couldn't place. the hilt of his now bloodied sword was still tight in his hands, until he let it drop to the floor.

he held his arms out, letting you crash into him and confide in his protection.

you sobbed in his arms, this attempt was different, it was calculated. you were all alone, and scared. he stitched your neck up, the blood spilling all over your dress as you whimpered in pain. you didn't want to be left alone now, not ever again. katsuki didn't leave your side though, he slept with you through the night. being there when you woke up.

he held you through the morning, no words leaving his lips. your eyes were swollen from crying, you face buried deep in his chest. he had a thoughtful expression on his face as he caressed you, suddenly pulling you out the bed with a determined look on his face. “trust me.” was all he uttered before leaving the room.

he dragged you down to speak with your father in the morning, he decided he was going to voice his opinions whether you liked it or not. “katsuki no! my father hates being questioned, please listen!”

as you begged him not to, he pulled you along like a ragdoll. “we have to do this princess, it's for your sake and mine.”

that silenced you for the rest of the walk, he didn't have to pull you as harshly now, walking beside you with your hand tightly gripped in his still.

you finally made it to the king's quarters, where he looked surprised at the sudden intrusion. “bakugo, [name], what are you two doing here?”

“why not just change the kingdom and appease the people instead of letting your daughter get hurt over and over? her neck had to be stitched together yesterday, and a man's corpse is rotting outside her bushes.” katsuki ranted, finally letting his inner turmoil's out.

“it's not your job to question me. silence now.”

“i don't think i will be silent, king. you'd rather let your daughter potentially die than give a bit of money to the poor? you hear out so many royals, so many failures of your rich society, yet you can't give an audience to the people who've built your wealth?”

silence loomed over the room, you'd never seen your father so angry. he bitterly laughed, clapping his hands. “so passionate, i knew you village peasants were interesting.”

“father, don't speak of them li–”

“silence. both of you.. since you believe that my kingdom isn't up to your standards.. do you realize that you are committing treason?”

your eyes and katsuki's shot up, you stood in front of him and started to plead. “father no! he was trying to protect me!”

“i know what is best for this situation. [name], leave the room. now.” the king ordered. you looked to katsuki for a brief moment, begging him silently to remain cordial, before waiting outside the door.

“come here boy.” he ordered to katsuki, making him walk closer hesitantly. the king started to speak with a smirk on his face.

“i will not be changing the way my kingdom was built solely because a couple peasants are starving to death.”

katsuki’s eyes widened, he continued. “my kingdom was built on this bloodshed, this suffering. a paradise where all are equal is just a fantasy, besides,

i can always have more children if she dies, i'd just prefer for my wife to not be upset at her death.”

katsuki felt nauseous as the king grew a sick smile on his face. “i like you. i see myself in you. i will give you two options lad. one: leave and do not utter a word to her, go far away and speak nothing of this. or two: i can strike you down right now and act as if you threatened me first.

how about it, peasant?”

katsuki packed up his things silently. ignoring your questions, the heaving of your chest as you begged him to stay. the tears staining your dress, the fear he knew would strike you at every moment.

you had turned him around, forcing him to look at you. to look at those eyes filled with tears just for him, the stitched up scar on your neck, the feeling of your hands pulling his. “katsuki.. why– why are you doing this? did he say something to you?” you hiccuped. “just answer me! please!”

the only safe response he could give you? none at all. he ripped his hands out of yours, breaking both your heart and his as he did so.

he walked away from you, not looking back as he entered the carriage that'd take him to a village, from where he'd have to walk a bit further.

he tried not to think of you, but how could he not when he saw you in everything? in the golden sun that served to mock him, in the grass that flowed freely in the winds, in the flowers that sprung from the ground.

he could never leave you behind. not your memory.. and not you yourself. as he sat in a tavern, drinking his sorrows away with the purple band clutched in his hand, he overheard a group of men speaking.

“so we do it next week, we have to kill the king.” they whispered, cloaks hung over their heads as they pointed out locations on a map. he was walking over before he even realized it, the group staring at him as he examined the map. he thinks it was just his liquid courage, or maybe it was just the desperation to go see you again.

“this is all wrong. the castle isn't laid out like this.” he muttered, grabbing a marker and starting to correct it. “hey– what are you doing man?” a red-haired man spoke.

“i'm fixing your map. you wanna kill the king right? i do too.”

“oh, awesome man!” he cheered. “sit next to us random guy.” he patted the seat next to him as katsuki sat down, finishing up the changes on the map.

“how do you know all this stuff?” a red and white haired man spoke, eyeing him curiously. “i was a knight until yesterday.”

this made them all gasp. “well.. guess that means you'd know it the best then, huh?” a green haired one spoke, “we really want to do this right so, help us with our strateg–”

“you can't kill the princess. that's my condition.” the group of five collectively eyed each other in confusion. “uh.. that's fine i guess. weren't really planning on it.” a yellow haired guy replied, “but we just want the king down. if you wanna keep her safe that'll be your job then random guy.”

“bakugo.”

this prompted them to go around the table introducing themselves. kaminari, kirishima, todoroki, midoriya, and shinsou. they had a mix of magic and manpower. but the only way they'd pull this off would be with immense planning. well, them anyways. he only had one goal: to save you.

the plan was for him to go to your quarters and escape with you while they caught the king by surprise. they'd need to cast spells and put the guards to sleep, the only blood they wanted to shed would be the king himself’s.

katsuki sighed. they had a week to prepare, but he didn't know what he'd do for that week away from you. he fell asleep to the thought of you, training vigorously for the chance to apologize. to take you with him, to build a life with you if you'd grace him with it.

to take you to meet his parents, his village. to show you how life entails, what it could be for the two of you:

during the day he'd train, detailing the schedule of not only the king but the servants around, the guard’s hours in full. he'd slash trees and bang rocks in anger and frustration over the cards you two had been dealt.

at night he'd ponder what to say to you. how to approach you, how to confess what had happened. how to convince you to leave with him, leave your life of luxury for one of uncertainty. a lifetime of uncertainty just to live with him.

the more he pondered the more he'd groan in frustration, which would make kirishima smack him on the head with a pillow. “go to sleep.”

he'd grunt and fall asleep to the moon, the same one you'd be looking at too.

you hadn't been faring well since he left. your days consisting of crying and screaming. you didn't leave your room, you didn't attend meetings or your classes. you didn't go to your spot in the gardens, the sight of the village mocking you, knowing he was so close yet so far.

he had rejected you. he probably hated you, the words from the man who wanted to kill you had stuck in his mind and now he was disgusted by royalty such as yourself.

your handmaids approached you with the caution you'd give to a baby, talking to you as if you were on the verge of a breakdown every second, which you were.

you hated that you'd let him into your life so easily, how much he held over your heart. you hated your feelings for him and how safe he made you feel.

what you hated the most was that you didn't hate him at all, you realized as you stared at the haunting moon, not knowing he was looking at it while thinking of you too.

days passed and it was time. they had spent the previous day traveling, bribing some horse traders to let them in through the gate. they all wore cloaks and had magic that would allow them to communicate throughout the kingdom together.

they all split up, katsuki by himself as he fled to your section of the kingdom. they all fled to surround the king.

not like he cared for that old man. all he wanted was to see you.

he noted how they hadn't bothered to clean the blood spilled on the rose beds under your window, the window that he started to climb. he hung on the windowsill as he peeked in to see you, with bloodshot eyes holding yourself. you looked as if you hadn't slept right in days, a look of paranoia over you.

he knocked on the window making you jump. at the sight of.. him with a cloak on? you scurried over, opening the window as he hopped in. “[name], i uh.. i came back for you.”

“why did you leave me in the first place katsuki?” you looked despaired, your hands clenched into fists as you stared at him.

“i.. i don't have much time. and i didn't have much time then. but i need you to come with me [name].”

“what?”

“we need to leave this place. you can't be here for a couple days and i can protect you. please [name].” he bowed down to you, pleading for you to just trust him though he didn't deserve it. the communication magic was setting off rapidly, they had made contact with the king already.

“get up katsuki, just– i'll go okay?” you said, helping him up. “but you're gonna explain everything.”

“right.” he helped you pack a bag full of essentials for you, helped you change into a dress that allowed for more mobility. he helped you down the window, holding you tight as you fled down the castle walls. he even let you keep your crowns and jewelry, your rings and things you'd loved from your birthdays.

you'd boarded the stowaway carriage, waiting for his ‘partners’ to get back. he neglected to tell you they were here to murder your father, the king, but from the spell tugging in his head he knew.

it was a success.

you had fallen asleep on his shoulder, cuddled up to him, snoring slightly. he held your hand as he held you close, you were so knocked out even the yells of happiness from the rebel group didn't wake you. they escaped into the night, kaminari and kirishima teasing katsuki about his relationship with you.

“no wonder you wanted to save her so bad, you're in love with the princess.”

“we can officiate your wedding man! as long as you don't want actual papers–”

“shut up.”

the rest of the ride was filled with that mockery, the rebels filled with excitement of what would become of the kingdom. the king was dead, the queen and princess were missing. well, the princess was safe and sound by katsuki’s side in actuality, but it's not like the townsmen knew that.

you woke up to the feeling of being carried, it was already dawn, the sun had begun to awake. katsuki was carrying you to a house of some sort. your arms wrapped around his neck, your eyes half lidded from sleep. “morning 'suki.” slipped from your lips as you yawned.

he looked down at you with a small smile. “good morning [name], we have uh-.. things to talk about. a lot of things.” he was nervous, you could tell from his tone. he set you down on a bed before sitting beside you, holding your hand.

“so, would you like the good news or the bad news first?” he asked you, avoiding eye contact. “bad news? what bad news?” you questioned, examining both him and yourself for injury. “well, your father is dead and your family has been dethroned.” he said quickly, not allowing for pause.

your eyes shot up in surprise, and just as quickly.. you.. yawned?

you weren't having much as a reaction as he planned for, he planned to have to beg you to stay, console you as you screamed out in terror, but you looked almost unimpressed. “i mean.. he had it coming. he treated everyone horribly, i hope mother is alright though.” you muttered. “anyways, the good news?”

he was flabbergasted to say the least, but he continued. “uh.. yeah. since he died the villagers usurped the throne, destroying the royal structure of the land.”

“can i keep my crown?"

“sure you can.”

“then it's okay with me.”

“oh..”

“is something wrong..?”

“nope, uh. thats all.”

“so, can we explore the village today?”

“yes, yes we can.”

he took you everywhere he imagined in his dreams. you got along with his mother, surprisingly. fitting in like a missing puzzle piece into his life.

wealth had spread throughout the lands, everyone prospering as the people had elected for a people run government.

you'd adjusted surprisingly well. your huge gowns had become modest smaller ones, your jewelry now gone and replaced with leather bands. you'd had to do chores now, jokingly complaining but honestly learning to like the mundane aspects of life.

with your knight at your side, now devoted to you in not only soul but heart, you knew everything would go perfectly.

tags: @k0z3me @darhinadadragon @maddietries @hiimsaraaandyou @amayaaaxx

@i-the-fluffo @uy242c @irenne-stans

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[wandasfavv]

Make You Mine

Wanda x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ummm stepmom Wanda being upset with you for hosting a birthday party and not listening to her??

Idkkk this is my first time writing anything SO PLEASE just give me chance. I’m not really sure what I’m doing but like it’s something and I wrote this in one sitting. So please ignore any mistakes I made

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Stepmom!Wanda x Fem!Reader, alcohol, intoxicated r, non/con, somnophilia, mommy kink, oral(r receiving), jealousy, mentions of straight relationship, just Wanda being pervy

The floor trembled under you as music played obnoxiously through the speakers. You had the house to yourself and since it was your 21st birthday, you hosted a party at your house. There was around twenty people or so that you invited, having known them from college or even before.

With the promises of causing no trouble and being good, your father decided to give you permission to celebrate with your friends. Your step mom on the other hand, not so much.

“Y/N no, I told you already I don’t want you and your friends making a mess in the house that I know you’re not going clean,” Wanda said sternly as she set the dirty dishes in the sink. It was so rare for the older woman to ever let you do anything surrounding your friends. Despite being an adult, she’s always treated you as if you were a kid who never knew how to take care of yourself, and you hated it. Here she was doing that exact thing.

“I promise I’ll clean everything, Wanda. Just let me,” you responded, helping her clean up the table from dinner just to prove a point. She sighed before looking back up and at you, her expression displaying a displeasured look. You, being persistent, kept trying. Begged even as you put on a pleading face. “Please, I’ll do check ins and make sure nothing breaks or anything.”

Wanda found herself amused at your attempt of convincing her, the use of ‘please’ being sorta cute. However, you breaking stuff or making messes weren’t her actual concerns. She just didn’t trust you with your friends.

There were so many nights where she’d catch you trying to sneak out with them, sometimes not being able to and waking up to see you in the morning covered with marks and hickies from whatever. It made her feel an itch whenever she saw you unawarely show off anything that didn’t come from her. Plus, she was always worried about your friends taking advantage over you and making you do stuff she just thought you shouldn’t be doing. And now that you’re planning on a party where’d you be unsupervised, and possibly going to be doing more of these things, she just couldn’t bear the thought.

“For the last time. No-“

“Hey come on it’s fine. Let the kid do what she wants, it’s her 21st birthday,” your father intervened, not noticing the anger and frustration on his wife’s face. He smiled at you, and went his way to Wanda through the kitchen, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Let’s just take it as a chance to go on a date or something.”

The sight of him touching her and the word ‘date’ coming out of his mouth made your stomach churn. You didn’t know why though. Sure there were moments you found Wanda attractive and pretty even, but she was like a little less than twice your age and married to your father. It’d be weird to like her in any way like that. Right…?

“Well, thanks dad. I’ll go ahead and do it then,” you replied, your voice sounding taunting to Wanda as you glared up at her.

Excusing yourself, you went to your bedroom, trying to get the picture of the two out of your head. But before leaving, you noticed how Wanda somewhat pushed him away gently.

Back to the party, there you were taking shots and drinks down your throat like you’ve had before. Since you were now legally able to drink alcohol, everyone brought some combined with any that you found in the cabinets. You knew Wanda would probably be mad at you for taking some, but at least you left her favorite wine.

After a couple hours of playing games and enjoying your time letting the drunk feeling sink in, people began to leave, saying bye as they departed and said their birthday wishes to you. It was around 1am at this point, and you knew your dad and Wanda would be back soon. Though, you could barely see anything as you walked. After taking so much of the burning liquor and not considering the consequences, you felt completely sick and out of it, obviously not remembering your promises of cleaning up. Your phone was no where to be found and you had no clue about Wanda’s concerns.

Your last couple of friends helped you with a little bit of trash, picking up only after themselves however, and leaving most of it to you. Feeling lightheaded, you found your way to your room as you held onto the walls, plopping down on the bed once you were in as if you weren’t on the verge of throwing up. As you laid down comfortably, your eyes became heavy, leading you into a deep sleep in which you didn’t hear the car driving and parking onto the driveway.

Wanda came into the house, already prepared to yell at you after you didn’t answer her calls from earlier. She walked over the cups and napkins left on the floor toward your room, expecting you to be up and just ‘busy’ doing anything but cleaning like you said. But instead, she walked into you passed out on your bed, still in your uncomfortable clothing as you reeked of alcohol. She once again sighed out in irritation, not sure if she should be shouting at you or your father for letting you host a stupid a party.

She takes a few steps towards you, reaching her hand out to gently push the loose strand of hair from your face as you slept at the edge. Wanda couldn’t help but smile at your cute sleeping antics though, noticing your eyebrows create an indent in between and your nose twitch. Picking you up with her unusual strength, she put you into bed correctly, placing your head onto the soft pillow lightly. She paused for a moment thinking about her next move as she realized again the clothes you were wearing. They were revealing and provocative, something you’d never proudly wear in front of her or your father. Wanda bit her bottom lip, not knowing whether she should do what she’s thinking, but she did it anyway.

Slowly, she put her hands at the hem of your short top, trying her best to take it off you without you waking. She just didn’t want you to sleep in uncomfortable clothing, that’s all… Successfully pulling it off, she threw it down on the floor. Her eyes trailed down to your chest, which was still covered with your bra. She blushed a bit, finding your body beautiful yet so tempting her eyes then made their way to your bottom half, contemplating if it was a good idea to take your pants off too.

The sound of your father’s voice shook the thought out of her head. He called her name, wondering if everything was okay as the house was quiet, which wasn’t usual if it was Wanda yelling at you. She quickly got out of your room, hoping she wouldn’t be caught doing anything inappropriate with her husband’s daughter and went to her own bedroom, now ignoring the mess that surrounded her through the halls.

After about an hour, Wanda came back into your room. Just to check on you, maybe. She cleaned herself up, taking off any of the makeup she put on for the date she was just on, which was really just her having to suffer through pretending to enjoy whatever it was that they did. She was dressed in simple pajamas, just a shirt and shorts, and even then she looked perfect. Her oblivious husband was asleep now as well, and she took it as her chance to go back to your unconscious state. Walking gingerly to the side of the bed that you were on, she turned on the light on your nightstand and stared at your body again, thinking about taking off your pants like earlier. This time she did do it. Her hands went to the top of them, tugging them down with barely any force. Now leaving with you in only your undergarments, she found herself immersed in your entire being, her hand trailing down your body.

“Fuck, what am I doing…” Wanda whispered to herself as she bit the inside of her cheek in nervousness. You shifted in response to her touch, still in deep sleep as you unknowingly made her lose her composure. A soft groan left her mouth as you turned onto your side and had your back face her, exposing your ass. Looking back at the door and you, Wanda came to the conclusion that neither you or your father would be waking up anytime soon, so she crawled into bed with you on the other side, going under the cold sheets.

She’s never interacted with you with touch before, maybe just a couple hugs and light touches to your lower back, but never more as she didn’t really want to risk and indulge in anything. But seeing you now, your unconscious body, which wouldn’t know what’s about to happen, made her yearn for more.

Her hand made its way back to your face, cupping your cheek that’s faced up unlike the other which was adorably squished against the pillow. She leaned down placing a feather light kiss to your forehead to test you and to see if you really were heavily asleep. And you were. Receiving the green light to go further, her lips went father down to your nose, then to your mouth. Not caring if you were unconscious and intoxicated, she gently pushed her lips against yours, letting out a soft moan as she finally got to kiss you like she’s dreamt of from so many nights where she’d wake up with a mess in between her legs. Her hand went down to your waist, and squeezed it just a bit, but the action made you squirm and part from the kiss, once again turning and facing your back to Wanda.

Disappointed to not see your face, she breathed out. She still kept her hands on you though, wrapping an arm around your midsection and pulling you toward her body. She put her face into your neck, taking in your scent that remained besides the alcohol. “God, I need you so bad baby,” Wanda mumbled behind your ear. Her fingers from her other hand came up to unclip your bra, freeing your chest and allowing her to grope your breasts, still lightly as she wanted you to stay asleep. Her perverted actions were so different compared to how she’d usually behave around you.

Your body responded to her many ways as she touched you. You pushed your ass against her front, your panties being the only thing separating her from touching your father down. She groaned again at this, as if your body subconsciously wanted her to fuck you. And once a small and barely audible whimper escaped from your lips, she lost it. Her head spun from the way you acted, forcing her to find ways to control herself from just pinning you down and having her way with you. She bit down on your lower neck, making you once again let out another noise of disturbance.

“So needy even when you’re sleeping… fuck, I can’t stand you,” she said quietly against your skin, biting her lip and moving her hand down your tummy and further to your center. Her fingers reached the band of your underwear, causing her to huff out in annoyance of it being there still. Being a little less gentle, she tugged it down and immediately cupped your cunt. It was kinda rough as she desperately wanted to feel you. Her fingers went through your folds, collecting your wetness. Then, she reached up to her lips to taste you as she put them in her mouth, sucking your arousal off. She moaned, and already in love with how you tasted she wanted more of it.

Her body moved down, removing the sheets off of you and her. The soft yellow glow from the light on your body mesmerized her as she positioned herself between your legs. Parting them, she bent down and put her arm underneath your thighs before having them in a tight hold with her hands gripping the smooth flesh there. Wanda looked up at your sleeping self, admiring your beauty as her lip quivered from need with your pussy just centimeters away from her mouth. She stuck her tongue out, gently licking up and between your folds, up your clit. Your body quickly began to stir, and your eyes were forced shut as you turned your head. Wanda stopped momentarily, waiting for you to settle.

Once you stopped moving, she started to move her tongue against you again. Switching between licking around your sensitive nub and entering your cunt with her tongue, she moaned at how sweet you were, making her hold on you tighter to the point where light bruises were to form. Another small whimper mixed with a moan left your mouth as Wanda hit a particular spot within you. Your hips jerked up, and this only caused her to move roughly against and in your pussy. “Mm, waited so long to make you mine…”

Now that she was lost in pleasuring you and herself, you began to wake up from the slight aggressive movements. Your eyes opened, squinting from the bright light beaming beside your face. Confused, you closed your eyes again before recognizing a feeling between your thighs. Wanda noticed you waking up, no longer caring and actually glad you were. As you looked down you saw her face covered in your wetness mixed with her own saliva. Your jaw dropped from both shock and pleasure as she continued moving her tongue in and out of your increasingly soaked center. “W-Wanda..?” You shakily spoke, reaching down to her head, only to be stopped as her hands took yours and pinned them down beside your thighs.

“Shh… just let mommy take you, okay?” She said, noticing the way your hips bucked up against her face from the name she used for herself. “You’ve been so bad, you know that? You know how upset you made me, leaving a mess outside… and hanging out with all your dumb little friends…” she said lowly against your pussy, the vibrations of her voice making you moan and tilt your head back. Her mind shifted back to previous days at the mention of your friends. “So fucking annoying, coming home with all those marks on you and from who huh? Do they fuck you better than me baby?”

The constant questions and use of cuss words turned you on further as you never had nor expected Wanda to talk to you like this. Your mind was still hazy too, from just waking up and the after effects of drinking too much. “No… no m-mommy no,” you gasped, dumbly shaking your head. Wanda moaned, hearing you say her preferred term and getting drunk off your sounds. Her grip on your hands were now even tighter matching yours as you got closer to your orgasm.

Your moaning got louder as well, somewhat worrying Wanda as she didn’t want this time with you ruined by your dad waking up. So letting go of one of your hands, she reached up and covered your mouth, the pressure being harsh. Your noises were only muffled sounds of pleasure, still arousing to hear to Wanda. “Shut up sweetie, you don’t want your father to hear you, do you?” She questions, smirking slightly as you shook your head no. She loved the way you looked down at her, your eyebrows furrowed with a look of desperation and slight fear for bringing up that fact that he was in the other room down the hall.

As you were on the edge of cumming, your free hand went down to Wanda’s hair, grasping the soft locks of brown hair like you’ve always wanted. Her tongue kept going and swirled around the clit once again, really pushing you towards releasing all over her face and specifically in her mouth. You whined against her palm, signaling to her that you needed to let go. “You gonna cum, princess? Cum all over mommy’s tongue?” She asks in a condescending tone, smiling to herself as you tried to respond under her hand. She let her hand fall for you to speak and beg her for permission.

“P-Please mommy, please I wanna cum,” you begged, whimpering as you tried to hold back before she said yes. The hold on her hair got tighter, causing her groan again. Tears grew at the corners of your eyes and Wanda couldn’t help but get more aroused at the sight.

“Mhm, go ahead baby…” Wanda replied, going at a faster and rougher pace, battling against the tiring and numb feeling in her muscle. You let go the second you hear her, moving and grinding your cunt against her to ride out the orgasm that’s making your entire body tremble. Louder and higher pitched sounds from your mouth escaped, causing Wanda to instead move back up your body and shut you up by kissing you, shoving her tongue in your mouth and making you taste your own arousal.

“Uh-huh, good girl… so good for me,” she whispered, parting form the kiss and settling beside you in the bed, pulling you in her arms in a tight comforting hold laying down. The praise made you weaker, and with her pampering you by wiping your tears away while gently petting your head, it made you lost in your mind. You panted against her chest and held onto her hand still securely. She waited for you to calm down a bit before speaking again.

“Shhhh… it’s ok, just go back to sleep dear,” Wanda said softly and moving her arms to wrap around you. She figured you were still tired, from both the orgasm and the alcohol. She right of course, and you found yourself becoming drowsy in her arms.

“Wanda…” you suddenly said sleepily, catching her attention with your stable voice. She looked down at you, still comfortingly rubbing your side. The tired look on your face showing absolutely no signs of a single thought in your head was adorable to her and she smiled while responding to you with a small “hm?”

“I’m sorry for being bad,” you mumbled timidly, looking away for a moment as there was a permanent blush. Wanda laughed softly at you, her hands now to your cheek to make you look at her.

“You’re so cute… just make it up to me tomorrow okay, and then maybe we can do something like this again,” She responded, a loving grin on her face with a light pink tint on her cheeks. You nodded slowly and smiled at her. Wanda then kissed your head, shushing you to sleep. And you listened, saying a small goodnight before quickly beginning to snore softly into her neck once you shut your heavy eyelids just for a couple seconds in her warm embrace.

Part 2(Getting Closer)

[eufezco]

TAKE ME WITH YOU

you want dbf!logan to take you with him to the xmansion but do you want to go there to attend charles xavier's classes or do you have hidden intentions?

logan x afab!reader (smut) + no use of y/n. english isn't my first language (!). gif credit to @/asgardswinter

—your dad told me you haven't left your room all day.

logan leaned on the doorframe, crossing his big arms in front of his body. his brown eyes were on you, lying in the middle of your bed, focused on the book on your lap.

—my head hurts every time i try to go outside. everything is too loud.

—everything is too loud —. he mocked you.

you huffed. you had used that excuse so many times before, thinking you could fool him, as if he didn't know that you could control your powers perfectly. the professor told him so, that your mind was perfectly structured, that it was impressive how much control you had over your powers for a psychic.

you had used that excuse so many times before because you wanted your parent's permission to attend charles xavier's school and if you had to play the victim for that to happen, you would.

you always did the same thing.

every time your parents let you know that logan was coming to your house for dinner on the weekend, that's when your plan started. you acted like your headache was unbearable, like you could hear the voices of even the people across the street, like you could not leave your room without covering your ears and scrunching up your face trying to shut all the voices.

it was perfect. to you, the perfect plan, and every time was the perfect chance for logan to take you with him. but to your bad luck, your performance never had an effect on your parents, much less on him.

—when did you arrive anyways?

—like an hour ago, but you already knew that, didn't you?

you smiled mischievously.

—do you think i cannot feel you when you poke around in my mind?

—oh, i know you do. it wouldn't be so fun if you couldn't feel me.

logan walked into your room. you closed your book and put it aside on the bed, no longer interested in it. right after, he picked it up and looked at the cover, with a photo of the professor and the name, charles xavier, signing as the author.

—it could be considered obsession at this point —. logan declared.

you rolled your eyes and snatched the book from his hands as you got up from your bed to place it back in its place on the shelf. you stood on your tiptoes but it was still too high and you couldn't reach it. you turned your head to look at logan. —would you mind?

he rolled his eyes and came to you, he knew what you were doing. the shelf was a bit high but you could reach it just fine.

logan took the book from your hand and stretched his body to put it on the shelf. during those seconds you were trapped between the piece of furniture and logan's body, his chest pressed against your back, his free hand held your hip in place to keep his balance and himself from crushing you.

you leaned subtly into the shelf, your ass rubbed against his crotch and logan immediately pulled away from you. you turned to look at him innocently as if you didn't do it on purpose, while your hands rested on your desk behind you, and with a little jump you sat on it.

—have you talked to my parents? should i start packing?

—you already know their answer. why don't you just use your powers to change their minds?

—if the professor knew, he would send me back home, but if you talk to them, my dad will listen to you, you are his best friend.

logan was the only person who could convince them. your parents weren't mutants, just ordinary people but they had seen how people like them treated people like you. they didn't want you to be away from them in a world where it was so dangerous to be a mutant.

yet they trusted logan. he fought alongside your father in some war and apparently, logan saved his life or something like that. you didn't remember that story very well, every time they told it at dinner time you could only focus on how the fabric of logan's shirt tightened around his big arms to the point that you could notice his veins. if you concentrated hard enough and used your powers you could even feel his warm blood running through them.

—i could have talked to them if you hadn't been putting those images in my mind while i was trying to have a conversation.

—tell me you didn't like what you saw —. you said, playfully. the eye contact became more intense when he didn't answer you.

those images were pure filth, scenarios that never happened and that you had fantasized about a million times in your head. you sent those dirty fantasies of yours to his mind while he was downstairs talking to your parents. he had to fix his position on the couch multiple times, take a sip of his drink to control the heat building up in his cheeks, and shake his head subtly in an attempt to kick you out of there.

logan remained silent which was enough of an answer. you smiled triumphantly. he shook his head, you were a lost cause.

—just imagine if i went there with you and we could spend every day together —. you raised two of your fingers and made an elegant movement while pointing at the door. logan followed your hand and saw how the door of your room closed. while he was distracted, your legs encircled around his body and brought him closer to you. — i'd be all yours, logan.

he was going to complain, he was going to tell you how you shouldn't say such things, how you shouldn't do those things to him, and how it was even worse that he allowed it. but the way your thighs squeezed both sides of his body to keep him from escaping, the way his eyes were fixed on his crotch pressing against your clothed cunt, and the way you did not take your eyes off his mouth...

logan could not even utter the first word when you crashed your lips against his.

he called your name once. you acted like you didn't hear him and continued kissing him. logan kissed you back but you could hear all the voices in his head and you didn't want him to listen to what they were saying. he called your name again. you knew that tone, that way of calling you. —this is wrong —. he mumbled into the kiss.

—no, it's not. i want you —. you whispered against his lips.

—your parents are downstairs —. logan reminded you.

you broke away from the kiss, a thin string of saliva connected your lips while you raised one of your hands to the level of your heads and snapped your fingers. logan looked at you confused.

—they can't hear us now —. you had to keep your concentration for a few seconds to be able to stay inside your parents' heads. when you had it under control, you planted a kiss on logan's chin. —they don't even remember you're home. in fact, they don't even remember i'm home.

—do you ever use your mutation for anything that isn't completely twisted?

you giggled. —and this is nothing.

a grunt left his lips at your words. your mouth attached to his again as your fingers sank into the thick, brown locks at the back of his head. logan's hands were on both sides of your thighs, digging his fingers into the flesh of them while he allowed your tongue to go past his lips. with his tight grip on the outside of your thighs, logan lifted you off the desk with ease. his hands slid down to your ass as he gently dropped you on the mattress of your bed.

logan threw his hands back and pulled the neck of his shirt over his head. you gasped and squeezed him harder between your legs. your hands were quick to attach to his pecs, feeling them hard, hairy, under your touch and then your nails scratched their way down, making logan groan, until they reached his abs. —god, you're so hot —. you grabbed the dog tags hanging around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss as you lifted your hips off the bed so you could feel him against you again.

in response to the desperation of your movements, logan's hand moved between your bodies and slipped into your pajama shorts. logan parted from your lips to look at you in the eyes, surprised.

—no panties?

—i knew you were coming over. fuck, —you moaned when he put his middle finger inside you. —wanted to save us some time.

—you wait for all your dad's friends without panties?

you whined and you held on to his bicep while he added his heart finger. his eyes were fixed on your face, paying attention to all your expressions. the way your teeth were digging into your lower lip, the wrinkles on your forehead from your frown, how your lips parted every time he pushed his fingers a little deeper.

—so you do, hm.

—no, logan, shit —his thumb connected with your clit. —only with you.

—atta girl, that's what i wanted to hear.

his face hid in your neck, his beard tickled you, his teeth gave little bites to your sensitive skin there and then his lips sucked on that same spot to soothe it.

your lips were half open, your eyes closed shut while his two fingers pushed inside you and his thumb moved in circles on your clit. you sneaked one of your hands inside his jeans and underwear and gave a sweet squeeze to his hard ass, was there any part of his body where his muscles were not perfectly defined? logan grunted, feeling how you sunk your nails there and gave him some cute half-moon marks.

your legs closed around his body as he felt how your pussy tightened around his fingers. —wait, i need you, please, fuck, i need your cock.

and who was he to deny you? you shifted uncomfortably on the bed when he pulled his fingers out of you.

—you're still wearing too many clothes, don't you think? —logan said as he sat on his knees. you nodded, arching your back so he could take off your shirt and lifting your hips from the mattress so he could slide your shorts and panties off your legs.

he licked his lips as he watched you from above. so perfect. logan felt bad about all the times that he had imagined what your body would look like, he had fantasized about it when he saw you dive into the pool while he helped your father with the barbecue, he had to look away from you when he noticed that your nipples were showing through that floral dress. all that ended at that moment, with you naked under him.

your cheeks were starting to grow hot thanks to his eyes on you.

—so fucking beautiful, you're fucking perfect, sweetheart —he leaned on top of you again, connecting his lips to yours and cupping one of your boobs. —perfect fucking tits —. his lips moved from your mouth and sucked on your nipple. you whined in response, trying to focus on your hands unbuttoning his pants and zipping them down along with his underwear.

you wrapped your fingers around his hard cock, using your thumb to spread the bead of precum over the tip. he clenched his jaw as you lined him up at your entrance and he slowly pushed himself inside of you, your hands gripping his biceps as he did it.

your throat felt dry from moaning, his hips hammering into you at a hard and fast pace, the sweet sounds that came out of your mouth encouraged him to do so. but then, all of a sudden, logan's hand covered your mouth and his movements stopped.

your dad was calling you. you heard his footsteps coming up the stairs, you had let yourself get so carried away that you had freed your parents' minds. logan looked at you with his eyes open wide, his heart beating so fast he thought it would burst out of his chest. you closed your eyes shut, getting into your dad's head and listening as his footsteps approaching your room stopped.

—ugh, darling! i forgot she's not home. could you text her and tell her to buy it on her way home?

both of you let out a sigh of relief.

—this fucking turned you on, you freak —. his hand was still in your mouth, he could tell you were smiling because of your eyes, —could feel you clenching around my cock every time he came closer.

his fingers dug into the flesh of one of your thighs as he helped you to encircle that leg around his waist. your moans muffled and died onto the palm of his hands as logan pulled out and pushed in again. his dog tags dangled in your face, the tip of his cock brushed against that sweet spot inside you. the hand that covered your mouth came up to clutch the headboard above your head so he could steady himself and thrust into you harder.

you moaned his name, squeezing his body with your thighs, your pussy tightening around his cock. logan fucked you through your orgasm, making your legs shake and your eyes turn white thanks to the overstimulation, and then he thrust into you one more time before he pulled out and came on your stomach.

he let his forehead rest on your shoulder and you caressed his hair as you both tried to catch your breaths.

—do you have anything i can use to clean you up?

you looked around, looking for something on your nightstands while you were still trapped under logan's body. you shook your head.

—you should've just cum inside.

logan huffed a laugh as he moved off of you and lay down next to you on the bed. —maybe in a few years.

he reached for your panties at the foot of the bed and he ran the fabric across your stomach, collecting all of his cum in them. you rested your head on one of your arms as you rolled over on the bed to look at him. he held your panties in the air using two of his fingers. —wear them all night and i'll convince your parents for you to come with me.

you smirked and you snatched them from his hand. —deal.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Omg I love your benjicot Blackwood fics can you do a x betrothed reader soft fluff please

There wasn’t many things in life that had brought you happiness, not since you became of an age where it was deemed necessary by your father to start looking for suitable suitors, for you were quick to catch on that life wasn’t fair especially towards the good and honest people of the realm.

They often died too soon, leaving for the rest of the realm to be poisoned and left in ruin by the selfish agendas of the richer and more powerful great houses.

So when you were made aware of your fathers plans, not bothering to ask for your permission in the matter, your initial response was to scream at the old fool of the unfairness of it all but instead you chose to ran for the Weirwoods as though that was going to change anything.

That day whilst terrible as it was, was also the day that you met Benjicot Blackwood or Benji as you liked to call him nowadays.

‘What’s wrong.’ He had asked, kneeling in front of you with a worried look.

‘I’m to be engaged.’ You told the boy with the short dark hair and stormy kind eyes.

‘Do you know to whom?’ He said as he tried his best to figure out what he could do to help, he wasn’t use to this whole comfort thing, but he was more then willing to try and to get use to comforting others for similar circumstances in the future.

You shrug, keeping your eyes downcast so that he wouldn’t see your tear stained face. ‘It is undecided for now but I know in my bones that it’ll be to a gluttonous lord of some unknown house with shady origins.’

‘Why not get engaged to me then?’ Benjicot then said out of the blue.

‘What?’ You looked up at him, unsure you had heard him right the first time.

‘Get engaged to me and you’ll never have to worry about being some shifty lords bed warmer.’ Ben said in a nonchalant mannor, which was soon betrayed by the cherry red blossoming upon his cheeks. ‘We don’t have to be in love it’s just-‘ he was abruptly cut off when you flung yourself into his arms, hugging him tightly as you whispered a million thanks into his shoulder, all the while Benjicot was stiff and awkward as a board before he finally relaxed and rubbed your back.

‘It’s fine, no need to thank me.’ He utters as later that same afternoon the news of your betrothal to Lord Benjicot Blackwood had been finalised, bring about the end before it had even began, and needless to say for the first time you had felt a twinge of happiness for your future.

Now as you stood beneath the very same Weirwood tree you did that fateful day, you sat beneath it with a smile upon your face and peace within your heart. You didn’t think you’d fall in love with Benjicot during your betrothal but you did and you did hard, the man was nothing short of perfect in every way shape and form, you didn’t expect yourself to fall in love with his dark hair, his stormy but kind eyes nor his chapped but kissable lips that withheld the most heavenly laughter you’ve ever heard.

He has made your heart full of happiness and joy that you didn’t know existed in Westeros, he treated you with such kindness, respect and loyalty that you couldn’t help but wonder if you were one of the lucky few to have such a devoted man such as Benjicot. You never wanted to know a reality where you weren’t betrothed to him for every man would fail in comparison, regardless of whether they came from a greater house, for all you ever wanted was a man who was undyingly faithful and wouldn’t dare let his eyes wander and you found that man in Benjicot Blackwood; and ever since then you have been falling for him every single second of every single day.

You had found your soulmate that day without even knowing it as you chuckled to yourself just as a body sat closely beside you, but instead of moving away from it you leaned into it, already familiar with the bodily warmth of your dearly beloved Benji as he pressed a sweet to to the top of your head.

‘You’re smiling today my beloved, is there reason to that or is it just me.’ He joked as you playfully scoffed.

‘I’m merely reminiscing the time we first met, right here beneath the Weirwood tree.’ You told him as you craned your head to look up at the leaves that hung above you both.

‘Still glad you’re not married off to some gluttonous lord from an unknown house with shady origins?’ Benjicot asked as he too looked up at the ruby leaves of the Weirwood, not wanting to admit that after all this time you still managed to make him nervous but in the best ways possible. Your smile widened at your own words being thrown back at you as you looked over at Benjicot and admired his side profile with adoring eyes.

‘I am because my betrothed is the sweetest man the realm has ever seen.’ You told him as you kissed his cheek softly before resting your head on his shoulder. ‘You saved me that day Benji and I am forever grateful.’

‘What did I tell you way back then? It’s nothing that you should thank me for.’ Benjicot said as he looked at you with a soft expression. ‘I’m just glad that I could offer you an alternative solution.’

You looked at him as found yourself smiling as he rested his forehead against your own, closing his eyes as he relaxed again you. ‘You also once told me that we didn’t have to fall in love during our betrothal too.’ You replied as you heard him chuckle lowly, brushing his nose over yours. ‘We did a pretty shit job of that didn’t we?’ Benjicot asked as you giggled and the young lord swore he could hear the heavens sing, for he had fallen first but saw later on that you had fallen just as hard for him in return, which he thought was solely because he had gotten you out of a predicament you didn’t want to be in.

You would later prove to him that that wasn’t the case at all and that you feelings for him were genuine and true as your heart that beats solely for him.

‘One could assume so, yes.’ You replied, kissing him on the forehead before letting your heads rest against one another once more. ‘But I don’t regret a single thing, word or moment that we have shared since for I love you far too much to depart from your side.’ You added as you moved yourself as close to him as you could, wanting nothing more then to be in his arms and listen to the sounds of his strong heart against your ear.

Benjicot didn’t put up a fight as he was quick to bring you into his strong embrace, holding you against his chest as he back remained supported by the trunk of the Weirwood tree, your head pressed to his heart as it sang its song just for you. ‘I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you cry under this very Weirwood.’ Benjicot admitted. ‘I looked at you and thought how beautiful you looked even when you were crying, which hurt my heart to witness. I want you happy and in that moment I wanted to be the reason you were happy and since then I have only fallen further each and every day, aching to one day call you what I’ve always wanted to call you.’

‘And what’s that.’ You murmured against his chest, his warmth providing you too much comfort that you were on the periapsis of falling asleep.

‘Lady Blackwood.’ Benjicot said as he pressed a kiss to your head, finding the same level of comfort you had as he too was fighting his hardest to keep his eyes open to gaze upon you longer, but alas his eyes were already closed and he smile widened as he thanked the gods for weaving your strand of fate with his own that fateful day under the Weirwood tree.

[kyber-crystal]

i will follow you into the dark || bradley "rooster" bradshaw

summary: your first instinct has always been to push people away when they get too close, but for some reason, you have trouble letting one pilot go. but little did you know that he had settled into your heart from the start and has no intention of leaving. (in which you have Bradley Bradshaw wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even notice—5 occasions that solidify your love for him, and 1 time you realize it)

words: ~3.3k

warnings: angst (BUT A HAPPY ENDING, I PROMISE), near-death experiences, brief mentions of violence, also my writing LMAO

a/n: hi guys i haven't posted a full-length fic in a LONG time but here we go :) this fic won the vote so it's going up first! hope you enjoy :)

I. meet me in the middle

“Mav!”

You and Maverick turned around at the same time. “Which one?”

“The pretty one,” Rooster stated. 

“Be more specific.”

“I am being specific, Captain.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Fine, I need your daughter.”

“You always need her for something.”

“Sorry, pops,” you grinned and clasped Maverick’s shoulder, and walked over to Bradley. “Come to kidnap me again, Bradshaw?”

“Actually, I’m hungry.”

“Then…go eat? I don’t see what any of that has to do with me.”

“I’m going to dinner, and I want you to come along,” he explained. “So, let’s go.”

“Is that why Cyclone was grumbling about someone spilling coffee all over him earlier? I knew it had to be you that put him in that mood.”

“Doesn’t matter. Come on.”

You looked back at your father, who simply laughed and motioned for you to go. The test flight would have to wait. 

It was 5:30 when you got there, but the usually-crowded cantina had only one other person inside. Rooster didn’t hesitate as he set down his car keys and slid into the booth right next to you.

“There’s a seat right there,” you pointed out. 

“And?”

“You can sit over there.”

“I don’t want to, though.”

“Alright, then.” 

You weren’t even done for the day and already, felt tired and worn out beyond belief. The one thing that had been keeping you going was Maverick’s promise to take you on a Mach 7 test flight. (With the Admiral’s permission, of course. But you wouldn’t be surprised if he had never asked.)

Rooster tells the waitress your order without blinking, and you give him a tired smile as a thank you. 

There’s no animated conversation, no loud comments or jokes or anything of the sort as the food comes out, but neither of you mind. Sometimes, all you needed to cool down from a long week was each other’s company and a steaming plate of fajitas. 

The little routine you’ve established falls into place so easily you don’t even have to think. Impromptu dinners, blasting 80’s music as the sun goes down, taking the offbeat path down to the coast with salt in your windswept hair.  Little to no words spoken, and somehow the silence speaks volumes.

But you don’t understand why he’d choose you to do this with, out of everyone. You’d expect him to drift towards someone less damaged. Someone who could keep up to his free and daring spirit and push him to his limits. Someone who had less baggage and didn’t flinch at every little touch. 

But despite all that he doesn’t leave. Even when everyone else around you seemed to, he was always there, assuring you he’d wait no matter what.

“Don’t worry about it.” He places a gentle hand over yours as he hands his card over to pay later that evening. “Let me treat you tonight.”

“Thanks…” 

He holds the door open for you as you walk out and keeps a ghost of a hand against your back the whole way to the car. You’re trying to burrow into yourself, but he doesn’t stop looking at you. The feeling of his eyes on you sends shivers running down your spine and you nervously shift in your seat. 

“You okay?” Rooster places his hand on the headrest as he reverses out of the parking lot. “You seem quiet tonight.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t press any further, assuming that you’re tired and that’s why you’re unwilling to say much. He knows. He understands. “If you ever need to talk, though, I’m one call and a 15 minute walk away. Or 7, if I sprint.”

This makes you laugh a bit. “If you say so.”

II. waiting on you

As soon as you hop out of your plane, he’s the first one there to greet you and pulls you in for a hug. You have no time to react to it because he’s so quick to sweep you up into his arms. You can smell a mix of sweat and coffee and a little bit of raspberries on him, and it helps bring you back down to reality. 

“You saw me a few hours ago, Roos…please let me go…” you mumbled into his shoulder. His grip on you only tightens further. “What’s with the excitement?”

“Nothing. I’m just happy to see you.”

Not knowing what else to do, your hands awkwardly reach up to pat him on the back. “It’s good to see you, too.”

Though you don’t say it out loud, you’re also just as happy to see him—it’s comforting to know he’ll be waiting whenever you return from something. And that, you think, is more than enough. 

Rooster carries your things for you without asking, and you’re grateful because your shoulders feel like they’re going to fall out of their sockets. Once again, he’s standing close by as you go to your quarters, ever the watchman. If he doesn’t have a hand on you, then his eyes will stay glued to you for as long as they can be. 

“Is that my shirt?” he asks as you step out of the bathroom wearing an oversized vintage T-shirt and a pair of jeans. 

“No.”

“It looks better on you, anyway.” He smirks; you fail to notice the way his gaze lingers on you a bit longer than normal. “You ready to go? They’re waiting for us at the Hard Deck. Hangman’s complaining about a rematch or somethin’.”

You lean into his side and smile, and he puts an arm across your shoulders. It feels so natural that you almost don’t notice. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

His eyes never leave you, even when he’s in the thick of the game. It’s impossible to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach every time his gaze flickers over to yours. 

Coyote notices your dazed look and nudges Payback in the side. “How is it that everyone knows that Bradshaw and Y/N love each other except Bradshaw and Y/N?”

“Because they’re stupid,” Payback whispered back.

“Ah. Makes sense.”

“So, we need to do something about it.”

“Hm…I’d say we wait it out. They’re going in the right direction.” A small smile graced Coyote’s face as Rooster pumped a fist up in victory before rushing over to embrace you. “A room full of people, yet all he sees is her.”

“You’re so right, man.”

III. rose-tinted glasses

“What are you looking for out there?” Rooster called out.

“Something pretty,” you replied as you stood by the ocean’s edge, the wind fanning your hair around your shoulders. He’s sure that he’s never seen a more mesmerizing sight. 

“I beat you to it, because I already found one,” he stated with confidence, eyes never leaving you.

“Where?”

“I’m looking right at her.”

“That’s not what I meant, silly. Do I look like a seashell to you?”

“No, you’re even better.”

You laugh once again and resume your search. Right then, a glowing scallop catches your eye, and sand dusts your clothes as you bend down to pick it up. It’s smooth and seems to glow in rose gold amidst the early evening light. 

“Would you look at that,” you breathed out, palm extended to show him what you’ve found. “It’s perfect.”

Rooster encloses his hand around yours, and you can feel the heat radiating from his skin. It’s cold out but you’re not freezing at all because he’s so close. He’s so close. Your heart skips a beat. 

“Wow…it sure is.”

He kneels down with you, and you spend the next few hours making it a competition to see who can find the most unique set of stones. A strange feeling washed over you as you watched his brows furrow in concentration. Never had you imagined to be spending Thursday night with Bradley Bradshaw by the seashore, and yet, it feels like you’ve done this thousands of times before. 

Everything seems to fall into place. 

IV. for you, i’d cross the line 

“Y/N, hey.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Doesn’t matter. Move over.”

You shifted on the bench to make room for him and he sat down next to you. This was probably his tenth time playing his rendition of ‘Great Balls of Fire’ but that didn’t matter; the man knew how to sing. You found yourself leaning into him and listening to his heartbeat, and the sensation lulled you into a peaceful trance. 

You took one good look at your best friend. Sweat lined his forehead and his face was bright red from both the alcohol and heat, but still, you were 100% sure that you’d never seen a more beautiful sight in your life. 

The way he seemed to gaze at you made your heartbeat pick up speed. It didn’t matter that he had too one too many drinks in the moments leading up to this, nor did it matter that he was always one to be rather affectionate with you. It didn’t make you love him any less—if anything, it made him all the more endearing. 

“You’re looking at me very…intensely,” you mumbled. “It’s making me nervous.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured. “A man can’t help it when he’s in love.”

“Was that tipsy you or sober you?”

“Sober me is saying I love you.” He continues playing, unfazed, and the sound of the piano in your ears fades away into nothingness. 

It’s drunk Rooster telling you he means what he says, the confidence boost making him do things he normally wouldn’t. It’s drunk Rooster attempting to serenade you as his warm, alcohol-riddled breath falls against your neck. It’s drunk Rooster talking…but there’s a sober truth hidden behind his words that sends a shiver down your spine. 

You’re nose-to-nose as he starts to sing, and you lose yourself in a sea of gold and blue as his warm thumb grazes over your cheek. As if there’s an invisible string drawing you together, you move closer and closer towards each other. Drunk or not, he was utterly enchanting and you couldn’t turn away.

Once again…you ignore the stirring feeling in your chest at the feeling of his body being so close to yours. 

V. saving grace

You find yourself opening the door to Rooster, who has a bouquet of your favorite flowers and some large Tupperware in hand. Butterflies flutter in your stomach as you accept them and step aside to let him in. “What is this for…?”

“Thought you’d want something nice to add to the kitchen. You and Mav need to work on decorations,” he said. “Why? Do you not like them?”

“No…I’m…how’d you know these were my favorite, anyway?”

“I heard you talking on the phone to Phoenix about them six months ago,” Rooster explained, taking his jacket off and hanging it over the couch. “I pride myself on being observant like that. Also…I woke up early to cook you that pasta you always go nuts over when we drive to LA.”

“Oh.” Your heart twinged as you glanced over—that damn pasta was your favorite thing on the entire planet. You claimed that nobody could make it as well as the diner in Newport did, except Bradley himself. (He didn’t tell you how many times it took to get it just right, though. He didn’t want you freaking out over that. And besides, Maverick’s pots and pans that he borrowed had already paid the price.)

He paused for a moment after setting the container down on the counter. “I noticed you went home early today. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” you lied as you put the flowers in a vase. But that was no use; he could see right through your monotone response. “Didn’t sleep enough last night.”

Bradley sees your hands tremble slightly. “Sweetheart.”

That’s all he needs to say before you step forward and lean your head against his chest. One arm finds its way around your waist to pull you close, while his free hand smoothes your hair out. A cracked sob escapes your lips and you squeeze your eyes shut in the hopes that if you kept them closed long enough and prayed hard enough, a guardian angel would swoop in and save you. 

“I’m here, it’s okay, you’ll be okay,” he murmurs. “You’ll be okay.”

“Please don’t go, Bradshaw,” you begged, voice hoarse. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m right here, don’t worry,” he reminds you, his hand moving down to rub your back. “I’ll be here whenever you need me, I promise.” 

You reach your pinky out a bit, and the two of you link your fingers together. 

You’re never letting go, and neither is he. 

epilogue—soul ties 

“I’m trying to shake them off. They won’t let up—shit, I’m hit—”

His panicked voice cuts through the buzz of static and you can feel your whole body go numb. What if he doesn’t make it back… The thought alone is too much to bear. 

He curses under his breath and you hear something like that of a whispered prayer and several mentions of Please let me come home to her. Your heart clenches in your chest and you feel like you’re going to puke. Noticing your sudden uneasiness, Maverick grips your hand to keep you steady. 

“Bradshaw, what the hell is going on there?” Coyote nervously rubs at his forehead as he looks up at the screen. “If you die, we’re all going to kill you.”

“Left engine’s completely blown out. I have two bogeys on my tail.”

You bite the inside of your cheek until the tangy, metallic taste of blood fills your mouth. This couldn’t be happening. There already was a ghost amongst the skies, and Rooster could not afford to become the second…

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, I’m going down, guys—” Rooster curses again, and the earsplitting sound of a large blast interrupts him before he can say much else. 

“Bradley!” you shrieked as you watched his radar signal slowly fade off the screen. “No—”

Silence punctures the air and you finally lose balance, succumbing to the black void of nothingness. 

—

10 hours later, you sit outside the hospital room in the cold hallway, a thin, tear-stained blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Hangman and Phoenix had long since given up on getting you to move, so they took turns sitting with you. 

“You should try eating. There’s In-N-Out nearby, I’ll get something for you if you want,” Jake offered. 

You shake your head. 

“Come on. It’s been all day.”

“No.”

“You’re really that worried about him, aren’t you.”

“No,” you muttered bitterly. 

“You claim to not care, yet you’ve been sitting here for the past ten hours.” 

“I don’t care. This is me looking out for him in the same way any colleague or teammate of his would. This is what I’m supposed to do. What we’re all supposed to do.” 

“Y/N.” Jake sounds a bit more serious this time, and this makes you stop trying to bury yourself within your thoughts. “Listen to me.”

“What,” you exhaled.

"The fact of the matter here is,” he cleared this throat, “Bradshaw cares about you…a lot. Not in a simple and innocent ‘friendly’ way. And if you keep pushing him away like you always do, all 'cause you're scared, you're gonna lose him for good. Losing a good man out of fear is never worth the cost."

Your heart stops.

Every hug, every word and cheesy pickup line, every lingering glance and touch and intertwined set of fingers—he'd fallen first long ago, and pulled you down with him. But you let him, and you'll walk to the ends of the earth if it means he'll hold your hand along the way. And that's when everything hits all at once—the realization comes crashing down like a waterfall. 

You were hopelessly in love with him, the man who brings you flowers every Friday night. In love with the man who holds the door open for you, gives you his favorite jackets, and stays up late or wakes up early to learn your favorite comfort meal (even if it means failing 17 times in the process and ruining Maverick's kitchen), the man who serenades you to classic rock ballads with the taste of rum on his lips. 

This was Rooster Bradshaw, and he was your soulmate.

“But I already lost him,” your voice falters as you struggle to find the right words to say, “I can’t.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. That man is going to stay waiting for you until the day his body is buried six feet underground. Deny it all you want, but he’ll keep waiting long after he takes his last breath.”

You let out a long sigh and stood up. “Okay.”

You’re hesitant as you step inside the small hospital room. He’s asleep, but he must’ve sensed your presence and his eyes flutter open. 

“Sweetheart…”

“Bradley.” He moves over a bit for you, and you sit down next to him. “You’re alive.”

“Sorry for not dying. That must’ve disappointed you,” he jokes. If he’s in any sort of pain, he manages to mask it behind a soft smile. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“I waited ten hours.”

“You should’ve gone home and slept.”

Closing your eyes, you rest your head against his chest. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing that you weren’t okay.”

He hums some tune against the crook of your neck; lips brushing over your skin. “But I came back, like I promised. I’m okay, because you are.”

Helovesmehelovesmehelovesme.

As if he could read your mind, he leans in just that bit closer. You look up at him and your heart somersaults in your chest. 

When your lips meet, everything clicks into place and it’s like you finally found the missing puzzle piece you’d been searching for. He was here all along; it made so much sense. Everything else fades away into the background as you get lost in the feeling of him and him alone. You knew from the moment he stuck out his hand and told you with a million-dollar smile “I’m Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, and I can make a mean lasagna or anything else you want,” that choosing him would be the single best thing you ever could’ve done. 

And you were most certainly right about that now. 

“I kept it, you know.” he murmurs as you eventually break away, “I didn’t think it would last as long as it did, but here it is.”

“What…what are you talking about?”

He fingers dip below the scoop of his T-shirt and he brings out the glittering charm, laying it in his hand. “You gave it to me ages ago. It was a while ago but I still remember the exact time and place. August 5th, 2010, 2:26 a.m. We were both on the verge of falling asleep.”

Your heart grows warmer. “Roos…”

Rooster opens the locket, and inside is a picture of you beaming as you wrapped your arms around him from behind. So young and so in love, but not yet knowing how you felt about each other. 

“I think this is what kept me alive up there. I was in the air long enough to think about and reflect on the fact that I was dying, but I knew I had to come home to you. I was dying, Y/N, but you saved me. If you didn’t come into my life right when you did then I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be telling you that I love you.”

He has you at a loss for words yet again. It didn’t matter that you’d known each other for years because he would always find a way to steal your breath. The once-tiny caterpillars crawling in your stomach had morphed into giant butterflies that never stopped fluttering when he came too close.

He leans in and he’s kissing you again; this time it’s like you’re his sole source of oxygen and he’s in desperate need of fresh air. Your grip on his hand tightens as he deepens the kiss, and you pray to God that your heart won’t explode into a million pieces like it did when you thought you wouldn’t see him again. 

I’ve died and come back to life twice now, Rooster tells himself. 

And both of those times, you’re the angel that magically appears to save him from a certain, unfortunate fate. 

tags, including people who may be interested (sorry if this list seems off, it hasn't been updated in a while hahah): @sarcastic-sourwolf @totomoshi @sebastianstangirl01 @purelyfiction @lunamoonbby @hazelgirl355 @multifandom-fangirl4 @paintballkid711 @buckysbeloved @lyn-lc @spawn0fsatan @milestomaverick @teacactusworld @cherry-waved @ellabellabus07 @vitanileon @lam-ila @criminalyetminimal @whatlovegattado @queenbbarnes @yeehawnana @t-stark35 @thesunsetphantoms @danirose-0420 @callalily2000 @the-untamed-soul @shizzybarnaclee @bananaa @luvfurdogs @shalaniela @unordinare @and-claudia @lgg5989 @katiemcrae @elenavampire21 @joyfullyswimmingface @nyx2021 @cosm1cfae @ellabellabus07 @vane28282 @bittergomez @littlebadariell @tallrock35 @whotfatemywaffles @hoedameronsworld @aerangi @julia-marshal @uwiuwi

(also if you filled out the general taglist form/top gun taglist form and you're not on here, that means i couldn't tag you for some reason)

[jar0fhoney]

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 (NSFW) - PART 4 - PART 5 (NSFW) - PART 6 - PART 7 (NSFW) - PART 8 (NSFW)

“Would you ever wanna leave, Ma?”

The question had been teetering on the tip of your tongue since Khargaad had propositioned you a month ago. August was yawning into September and it would be time to harvest any day now. Your mother stared into her plate, tapping her spoon into the stew.

“Did I ever think I would be able to? No. But do I want to…?” There was a pained smile on her face, like it hurt to remember, “When I was a little girl, I wanted to see it all. See the world. I would get lost in father’s encyclopedias.”

Despite living in a rural land, farming for a living, your mother was raised in a rather upper class family. Her father, a notable professor, had very high expectations for all of his children.

“If he could see me now…” Your mother dug her head into her hands, “An old lady working on a farm? No husband? No prospects or ambition? He would weep.”

“Stop that Ma.” You scolded her. She sighed.

She had ran away with your father at a young age. He was a stable boy who was crass, reckless, impassioned, fiery. Everything your mother had been raised to look down on. They eloped in secret, earning her family’s contempt and rejection.

“I always thought you and your sisters were my chance to make up for it. To make up for all the promise I threw away. I could’ve been… an anthropologist… or a historian.”

You had never met the man your mother saw in your father. And it took many years for your mother to accept the man she married just wasn’t there anymore. You remember him as mean. Egotistical. Violent. The day he left was the day you all let out a sigh of relief, but out of everyone your mother took it the very hardest. Father was her first rebellion and one that blew up right in her face. You reached across the dining room table, taking her hands into yours.

“Let’s leave, Ma. Just go. Somewhere. Anywhere but here.” She tensed for a second, hands firm on yours,

“Y/n… did something happen? Are you afraid? Did he… did he hurt you?”

You laughed softly, reassuringly running your thumbs over her knuckles, “No no no. It’s mostly Khargaad’s idea in the first place. I think he… I don’t know… I think he just wants the best for me.”

Her shoulders slouch, tension easing.

“The best for you… is all I’ve ever wanted y/n.”

-

You peered over at Khargaad plucking tomatoes. He had gotten into the habit of just showing up in the afternoons to assist in tending the fields. At first, he would sheepishly ask permission to join you. But now, with absolutely no shame, you would see him marching down the path to you in order to get his share of the work started. You gave up trying to assure him he didn’t need to volunteer his time a while ago.

“You’re smiling an awful lot over there.” His voice cut through the silence and almost startled you. In truth, you had grown so used to his presence that it was easy to let your guard down around him now.

And so, that is why you had absentmindedly found yourself day dreaming about telling Khargaad about you and your mother’s conversation. That you wanted to leave with him. There was a big stupid grin plastered on your face.

“Let’s go, Khargaad.”

He smirked, “Back to my place?”

“No silly, I mean go.”

He paused for a second.

“Oh…”

“OH!”

Before you could respond you were hoisted in the air by the orc. You wrapped your legs around his torso, straddling his waist. His eyes were so bright and excited, like a little puppy. “And your Ma is coming with us?!”

“Yes of cou- AH!” Khargaad had broken into a jog towards the house, you still in his arms. Your mother sat peacefully in the front garden thumbing through a book titled “Orc Customs and Cultures: A Regional Guide.”

“Ma’am! Is it true?” He exclaimed. She smirked cheekily, already knowing what he was referring to.

“You sure it won’t damper your mood? Dragging this old bag of bones along with you?”

He shook his head earnestly, setting you down in the process. Your mother and Khargaad had struck up a lovely friendship of their own since the two of you had begun courtship. The book on Orc culture she read was a gift from him (apparently presenting physical tokens of goodwill to the parents was a very common part of orc courtship).

“Ma’am… I would be so thrilled to have your company.” His huge hand enveloped your mother’s firmly. She fanned herself jokingly, “Well if you put it that way, how can a girl refuse.”

You all decided to reconvene and discuss your plans. By the end of the conversation, Khargaad had his hand wrapped around your waist in such a manner you knew what he was thinking. He loved to hold you there.

-

“Oh Gods…” Khargaad croaked, with a vice grip on the furs covering his bed.

You sat perched between his legs, licking delicately up the base of is needy cock. It was an intoxicating sight, seeing your pretty pink tongue swirling around his tip, and your hand pumping him up and down. You were too good to be true.

It was easy to tell when he was close. His voice would get hoarse, and it seemed as if every muscle in his body was flexing in anticipation. It thrilled him that you had gotten so adept at getting him to his limit, to reduce him to a mumbling mess.

“Waitt st-stop c’mere-“ Khargaad reached down and pulled you up by your waist. He was downright obsessed with the way his thumbs pressed into the soft skin of your tummy. He lifted you up directly over his painfully erect cock, and you reached down to line himself up with your already red and puffy entrance.

He loved pleasuring you so much, it often was the very first thing he sought to do when he pulled you into bed. He had grown very fond of pulling you into his lap, making an absolute mess of you with his hands. Making you squirt was always a goal, he derived a smug sense of satisfaction from it that always left him with a shit eating grin on his face.

“Come on please make a mess for me y/n. Make a mess on my hands for me sweetheart.” He would mewl into your ear whilst rubbing your clit and finger-fucking you at a dizzying pace.

And so, as per usual, your sensitive pussy was ready for him by the time he speared you onto his cock. He liked to watch you slowly take him, seeing himself disappear between your folds. He began pumping you up and down on himself, like you were his own living fleshlight. His strength made it so he could work up to a rather quick pace, all the while you bringing your hands up to play with your tits.

“Oh- OH!” He cried out suddenly, pulling you off of himself. He shot thick hot ropes of cum onto his stomach. When he was done, you grabbed a warm washcloth from his basin, wiping his soft stomach clean.

He pulled you down to cradle you in his arms. “I’m going to take you home…” his voice muffled into your neck.

;)

@reads-stuff-quietly @loo-looland @sluttygirl123 @beaniebaneenie @blushycadaver @sunndust @whyiamadegenerate @the-attic-of-porcelain @freakyotaku059-blog @youknowits-derea @thoughts-of-bear-undercovers @allthecraftandthings @gruffle1 @kennedyabraxas123 @queenies1x1 @jellyslimesofficial @jasminedragoon @rangoismyname @the-queen-of-sorrows @the-dumber-scaramouche @heddaloddafun @swimmingrascalbatdragon @hellodollstuff @wingedghostpepper @pistachioinfernal @honeybaegle @sammehshark @dij-ology @forgemotherkestrel @wafflefries786 @sadsilver @shellyyyyy0000 @thecreativeblueberry-blog @lovingbadguys

[russellbee]

DONE LOOKIN’ FOR SIGNS IN THE GAPS AND THE SILENCE (LN4, MF)

lando norris x childhood bff!reader x max fewtrell (she/her) summary. the timeline of your friendship with lando and max, leading up to the day they finally become yours. (writing, small smau) (5.2k) warnings. conflicting thoughts on polyamory, cursing, mentions of drinking alcohol, a nameless older sister that's basically a plot device :P andi's note!! IT'S HERE!! i hope you all enjoy :D! gonna go eat dinner 😊 (title from decode by sabrina carpenter) -> the inspiration/original

nav+masterlist • tags: @aykxz98 & @makanirock05 :)

July 2013 — 14 years old

You've come to the decision that you hate Italy. Which is not true, but the heat clinging to your skin has made you a bit irrational. It's not all the heat, but it's easier to blame something intangible on your bad mood than your actual problem. Your sister speaks — something about water or the weather — before walking off. You're not sure.

You watch her leave, the anger festering in you releasing through you harshly pulling your arms out of your suit. The sleeves flop beside you, resting on the pavement. You stare at them for a second, feeling sick in the stomach.

A liability. Why do you even keep going, then?

In November, your parents will tell you what you already know, but they'll dress it nicely. The harsh version is: You have no future in racing; you'll have to find something else to do. There's still a couple of months, but you can feel yourself already missing the thrill of karting and getting a cool trophy to decorate your room with. It's not fair, truthfully, but your sister had been a warning. You're just following her footsteps now.

This whole week, you've watched the boys around you, the ones wearing the same suit as you, racing carefree because they don't need reassurance that they can go far. They will, most likely. You've had a bitter taste on your tongue since overhearing your father's phone call. You shouldn't have listened.

"Are you okay?" You blink, looking up at who spoke. He's wearing a Ricky Flynn suit, bright and obnoxious. But he also looks genuine, like he cares about how you're doing. That's new.

"Um, I'm fine." As an afterthought, you add, "Thanks." He could be about your age, but you wouldn't be surprised if he's younger. He's probably around the same height as an elf.

"Do— Would you want to get lunch with Max and me? It's not— like our parents are gonna be there. Obviously. But we think you're cool, and we want to hang out with you." When he's stopped speaking, he lets out a breath like he didn't breathe the entire time. "I'm Lando, by the way." Max? He can't be talking about Verstappen because you're pretty sure he went home directly after his race. So, Fewtrell, then. The longer you squint at Lando, the more you remember him hovering in the background of your memories, Max Fewtrell by his side.

"I'd have to ask my sister." His whole face lights up, and it's ridiculous but endearing at the same time. "Yeah, cool. Cool."

You get lunch with Lando, Max, and their families. Your sister exchanges your parents' information with theirs, and there's a silent promise to hang out again. It's nice, a bit of weight off your shoulders.

You even get to spend your weekend in Italy, a rare permission from your parents. When you get home, your digital camera, the one you'd gotten for your most recent birthday, is full of photos. Your sister helps you get them printed out, and together you decorate the walls of your room with your photos. At night, you stare at the singular framed photo on your nightstand; you, Lando, and Max huddled together in a restaurant booth. It stays there until you move out.

December 2015 — 16 years old

The cold air bites your exposed skin when you step out onto the street. Lando hisses like a cat at the feeling, hunching his shoulders, and bringing his arms closer to his body. As you laugh, you can see your breath in the air, like a fog. Max pulls his beanie off his head, fitting it over Lando's, who squeaks at the sudden intrusion. "If you don't stop pouting, I'm taking it back." He adds, rolling his eyes when Lando huffs.

"I'm not pouting! I'm just saying we could've left earlier, and it would've been a bit warmer." Max pushes Lando in the back, urging him to start walking. They fit themselves beside you, Max on your left and Lando on your right. "How are we supposed to see the lights then? The whole reason we're leaving now is to see all the decorations and stuff." Max teases, raising an eyebrow at Lando. He goes to speak but he closes his mouth, eyes trained on your face.

"Right. Yeah, ‘bet they'll look cool." Your face feels too hot for this weather. You keep your eyes forward and try to ignore the feeling of their eyes on you, sneaking glances like you don't know. Once the Christmas market is in your view you speed up your pace. Distantly, you can hear Max speak — such a suck-up, mate — and Lando's offended noise. You can imagine how red he must look.

"Hurry up!" You yell, not even looking back. You stop near the entrance to the market, pulling your camera from your coat pocket. Scratches litter the outside, but luckily not the lens, some that you've covered with random stickers you've come across. There are also two distinct signatures, small but noticeable. So when we go pro you can sell it, be as rich as us. Lando had said, and you had rolled your eyes and told them earnestly you wouldn't sell it. They both turned bright red, and you chose not to acknowledge it.

You turn it on, panning the camera around the market to see if your photos might look good. They won't, you know it. Your camera's too old, and it was never excellent even when you first got it. But you like the memories, even if your favorites are too blurry to understand. You finally turn around, Max and Lando coming into view on the tiny screen. Before they can notice, you take a photo, laughing at Max's groan when he realizes. He'll always complain about you and Lando's theatrics, but he's just as dramatic.

In the photo, Lando is smiling bright, his cheeks rosy red. Max is blurry from his sudden movement, but you can make out his smile in the mess of colors.

You stay at the market till it closes, eating too much food and drinking an absurd amount of hot chocolate. Your SD card is full when you get home because Lando had snatched your camera when you were distracted. It's only 10 pm when you get back to your sister's apartment, so you decide to watch a movie on the pull-out couch.

When the light floods through the windows in the morning, you're still there. Lando is on your right, and Max on your left. They're both turned toward you, their heads resting on your shoulders. Lando's curled up against your side, and one of Max's legs rests on top of yours. It's too much. You wouldn't mind if it was just one of them, but both is suffocating. It feels wrong, to have them this close to you.

You hold your breath and leave the couch as quietly as possible. Your sister's bedroom door is ajar, and you slip into her bed like you were supposed to last night: Sharing beds like you had ten years ago. She blinks at you as you get comfortable, tugging her comforter closer to you. "I was wondering when you were going to join me." You huff, turning so she can't see how flustered you are. "Nice night with your boys?"

"Stop talking," You grumble. She laughs and lets it be; for now.

Lando and Max leave in the afternoon, heading back to their parent's houses. You lay on the couch, knees tucked against your chest as you go through the photos on your camera. The ones Lando took are noticeable, a bit blurrier than yours, and much more focused on human subjects. You and Max, specifically. In some of the photos, Max's annoyance at Lando is visible, but you can see underlying fondness in his smile and his eyes. You blink at the photos of yourself, finding similar qualities in your own face, with no difference for who you're looking at. You turn off your camera and stare into space for a bit. Your boys.

It feels greedy, to like them both. But then, if you have one, you leave out the other. There's no winning, is there?

Your sister flops onto the couch, her legs invading your personal space. You glare at her, extending your legs in retaliation. She doesn't acknowledge it, instead asking; "How'd your photos come out?"

You stare at the blank screen for a second, remembering the warmth in your eyes as you looked at Lando behind the camera. "Fine." She raises a brow, used to your rambles and rants about your pictures. Her foot nudges your ankle, bringing your eyes back to her.

"Is it what I said?" Your body goes hot, and you focus on anything other than her. "No." She sighs, pulling her legs closer toward her, giving you space. The silence is uncomfortable as you both think of something to say.

"It's fine if you like both of them, you know?" You barely think before you speak, spitting out an answer as fast as possible. A shield from your actual wants and feelings. "It's not normal." Your sister frowns before her lips twist into a teasing smile.

"Since when have you been normal? Or, any of you." You stare at her, not saying anything but not backing down either. "It's not— If all three of you like each other, you could date. It's a thing people do. If you think for whatever reason that dating them isn't going to make you happy, don't. But I know you like them and they make you happy right now. You could...try."

You can't speak, unknown words lodged in your throat, and a war in your mind. She leaves you to think, and you don’t talk about it again for a while.

November 2018 — 19 years old

Lando's birthday is no longer something intimate, spent in one of your bedrooms or a random hotel room with a shitty pre-made cake. Apparently.

When you get to the pub Lando had sent you the address of, you don't expect to see multiple tables pushed together, heaps of people you've never seen before sitting around them. You know Lando's becoming a bigger deal. He'll be an actual F1 driver in a couple of months. It's just different, but you won't complain.

You spot Max near the end of the table, and his eyes light up when he spots you. He waves you over, and you notice a chair beside him, his puffer coat taking its seat. You fight back a smile at something so simple. Nothing but a friendly gesture, right?

You maneuver through the chairs around the tables, too many people squished together in an effort to be included. Max has moved his coat so it rests along the back of his chair, and as you near him, you can hear him asking people to shuffle their chairs in. He smiles at you as you sit down, bright and charming.

"There's more people than I expected, to be honest." You mutter, looking for Lando in the mess of people. You recognize some: like Alex and George, sitting not far but clearly in their own world. "Yeah, I know, right." It's not a question, more of an annoyed grumble. You follow his gaze, finding Lando with a girl hanging off his arm. She's ridiculously pretty, maybe a little older. A model, or an influencer? How did Lando meet her?

"I— Is that like his girlfriend or something?" You whisper, your voice weak. Max glances at you, and his eyes seem to study your face before looking back at Lando. "I mean, I dunno. He's never mentioned her or anything."

"But she's here?"

"Yeah." Max sounds a little dejected, and you wonder if he knows how hard he's gripping the neck of his beer bottle. His face looks tight: his jaw clenched and eyes piercing into Lando. Who hasn't looked over; nor spared you a glance since you arrived. Did he even see you?

You slip your hand over Max's, prying his fingers from the bottle. He looks at you, a silent question in his eyes before he lets you take it. You both stare at each other as you bring the bottle to your lips. The second you taste the bitterness of the beer, you screw your eyes shut, but drink it anyway. Max lets out a short laugh as you put the bottle back on the table, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

"That's horrible." Max smiles, not as bright as before but, still him. "Yeah, but it's a good distraction from...that." He waves his hand in the general direction before freezing. You have another staring contest, and for a second, it looks like Max might say something, but he doesn't.

"Well, we have each other, right?" It's awkward, the silence painful. Then, Max swallows heavily, a weak yeah, leaving his lips before he takes the final swig of his beer.

You don't talk to Lando the entire night, and when it becomes clear that he'll be going home with his mystery stranger, you offer Max a night at yours.

You stumble on the uneven cobblestone street that leads up to your apartment, having split too many beers with Max. Though, he is considerably more sober than you. It feels like the air is punched out of you when Max's hand hesitantly touches your waist. You look up at him, his eyes shiny under the streetlights and a small smile on his lips. Then you back him up against the nearest building and with a quick glance at the street number, realize it's yours.

"You good?" His words are a little breathless, his hand hovering instead of touching now. Your right-hand grips the collar of his jacket, your left probably holding his hip too tightly. "Yeah, all good."

"Um." Max looks around a bit, and you realize he might be waiting for you to let him go. You don't want to. "I like you." Your words become one, but you know Max hears you because his eyes go wide. He relaxes a bit, his smile returning.

"Yeah, I—." You don't let him finish, pulling him into a kiss as soon as you know. His words turn into a small groan, and he finally grabs your waist for real. It's everything you ever wanted; a kiss from one of them. Your boys. One of Max's hands gently touches the back of your neck, moving you closer to him. When you pull away, he rests his forehead against yours.

"But I...y'know." You can't get yourself to say it, but Max knows. "Lando?" Of course, he knows.

"Don't," He takes a breath, cutting himself off and pulling away slightly. "Me too, honestly."

You drag Max into your flat, and stay up late, talking about all the things you both want from Lando but are too scared to ask for. In the morning, you wake up with Max on your left and your phone buzzing on your right. Lando's pissy about you apparently not being at his party, and you wake up Max with your argument over the phone. He helps you calm down, assures you that you haven't accidentally torn your friendship apart, and then takes you on your first date. You can't win, but having Max by your side is close.

July 2019 — 20 years old

Max picks you up from a bus stop in Silverstone and immediately pulls you into a kiss. You make a surprised sound before kissing him back. His passion is overwhelming but not bad.

He's got a big, bright smile on his face when he pulls away. "Hello, uni grad." You roll your eyes, pushing him away with a muttered, fuck off. Max laughs, pulling you right back to him.

"I really wanted to be there, y'know." His playful tone has slipped away, replaced with fondness and a tinge of guilt. "I know, it's fine. My parents miss you, by the way." You kiss his cheek, your pointer finger hooked in his shirt collar to pull him toward you.

Max grins, tugging you toward his rental car, right hand in your left. "They're my biggest fans, I think." You split, letting go of his hand to head toward the passenger seat. "That's not true. You've got me cheering for you." The, and Lando, goes unsaid but, you know he heard it.

In Max's hotel room, your bag gets thrown to the floor in the haste of pushing Max onto his bed. Your hands creep under his shirt, cold hands on his hot skin. "Hi," You grin down at him, hovering above him, your legs straddling his. "Missed you." Max pulls you down for a kiss, his hand heavy against the back of your neck.

You inch closer to him, hands sliding further up his shirt: feeling every inch of him. Max's other hand grabs your thigh as he leans up, deepening the kiss.

"Oh my God!" You jump at your sister's voice, flipping over so you're lying on the bed beside Max. "What the fuck?" You curse, eyes going from Max to your sister, then Lando. He looks like he ate something sour, lips screwed up weird.

"Max texted us that you were here," She explains with a teasing smile that falters when she sees Lando's face. "We need to talk," She grabs you by the wrist, pulling you into the en suite. The door shuts harshly behind her, and she locks the door. She's dressed in a papaya polo because Lando vouched for her to get a job on his team. He's complained about her constant mothering, but he asked for it.

"What about Lando?" She seethes, voice quiet because you both know how thin hotel walls can be. You stare at her, your arms wrapped self-consciously around yourself. "We— It's just better this way, alright? He doesn't need any more unnecessary attention. Plus, he doesn't even—."

"Don't say he doesn't like either of you. I have seen him smile like a fucking idiot at your group chat. I have suffered through his questions about whether he's pissed you or Max off because you're 'taking too long' to respond to a text. He likes you. Stop being stupid. Both of you, honestly." She rolls her eyes, her gaze just as harsh as her words.

"You good, mate?" Max asks after a beat of silence, both of them having watched the bathroom door slam shut. His eyes have a sheen to them Max doesn't want to acknowledge, and his lips have been stuck together like they've been glued. "Why didn't you tell me?" Lando sounds hurt, devastated that you'd gone behind his back. Max gets it, but he's had time to figure it out. Neither of you have been hiding it.

"I mean, we thought you'd figure it out?" Truthfully Lando knowing was never really discussed. A silent agreement had hung over the both of you because neither of you wanted to know how Lando would react.

"Congrats, I guess." Lando scuffs his shoe against the carpet, not looking at Max.

"Right. Thanks."

December 2019 — 20 years old

yourusername 🏔️🩵 (tagged landonorris, maxfewtrell)

liked by yoursister and others

maxfewtrell 👋🩵 (liked by yourusername)

landonorris sick pics 👍

yourusername thanks lan 🙃

yourfriend cuteee! (liked by yourusername)

yoursister no lando?

yourusername he's in the last pic? 😐 yoursister not what i meant (commented deleted by author) yoursister right didn't see him there!

August 2020 — 21 years old

You walk into the bedroom in your flat that you share with Max, a plastic bag in your hand. Guilty pleasure foods and sugary drinks. An in-the-moment fixer-upper. You turn on the light, finding Lando lying on Max's right, head on his shoulder, watching him mindlessly scroll on his phone. No one says anything for a bit before Lando goes to get up. "You can stay," You swallow heavily, feeling like there's a lump in your throat. "If you want." He stops, sinking back into the bed.

It's fine. It's everything you've ever wanted, but it's not true. Max is yours, and Lando's like an addition. He'll be here tonight, but maybe never again.

You drop the bag on your desk chair, pulling off the hoodie you wore to the shops. It was too hot out for it, but you didn't want to let go of it; Max's cologne clinging to every thread. One of them makes a little noise as your shirt rides up like the hoodie doesn't want you to go. Lando probably. You know what Max sounds like.

You hesitate before slipping into bed, to the left of Max. Lando's on his other side, clinging a little. His head is back on Max's shoulder, and his arm is wrapped loosely around your boyfriend's. You shuffle closer to Max, and he hesitantly wraps his arm around you, eyeing you. Are you okay with this? You sling your arm around his chest with ease, your hand resting by Lando's face. Yeah. Obviously.

You're all silent except for your breathing.

Max huffs after a moment, dropping his phone so it lays on him. "It's too hot for this." Truthfully, it is. But you don't want to admit it, and neither does Lando. You roll your eyes, "The fans on. We'll be fine." Max shifts, putting his phone somewhere else without moving away from either of you. You close your eyes, your head tucked near the crook of Max's neck.

"Go to sleep," Lando mumbles, and you can hear Max grumble. His body relaxes under you, and you can feel his head move, tilting toward Lando. It's the quickest you've fallen asleep in months.

You wake in the middle of the night, covered in sweat and lying half on Max. Lando's eyes blink at you in the dark, but you can't make out the rest of his face. You move your hand, your fingers gently brushing against his face. He breathes in harshly, eyes darting to Max's sleeping figure. "We both want you here, y'know? I don't mind. I'm sure Max doesn't either."

Lando blinks, then again and again. "Yeah, that's cool. I'll...I'll be here. When you want me to." His fingers ghost your hand, and you can feel the heat of his hand even if the touch is barely there. "We always want you." He makes a noise in the back of his throat, and then you can't see the shine of his eyes anymore, and the heat of his hand is gone. You hesitate before moving your hand, letting it linger near him. If he ever wants it back. You back.

August 2022 — 23 years old

In your hotel room in Ibiza, room service has been ordered. Lando is digging through his suitcase, and Max is looking at a collection of photos on his phone; taken over the past few days. You've only been in Ibiza for a couple of hours, work keeping you from joining them sooner.

You're basically sleeping, your head resting on Max's shoulder and looking at the photos through bleary eyes. Fucking early flights. There's a knock on the room door, and Max gets up to answer it. You fall onto the bed with a groan, curling up into a ball. Lando laughs in the distance.

A finger prods at your spine, and you bend your back, trying to get away from it. "C'mon, get up. Food's here." You nuzzle your face in the sheets with a muffled, "Let me sleep." Max moves, footsteps trailing off in the distance.

"You hate cold food. Get up." Lando's hands prod at your sides, and you squirm, sitting up to get away from him. "Asshole," You curse, ignoring the heat in your face. Lando giggles, heading toward the balcony where the plates have been set. You stretch, groaning at the feeling, before joining them on the balcony.

You sit next to Max and go to dig into your food when you notice a wrapped box on the table. "What's that?" Lando visibly brightens, grabbing the box and extending it toward you. "I was gonna give it to you at Silverstone ‘cause I thought you were coming. But, y'know." You take the box hesitantly, nodding along to what Lando says.

You had intended to go to Silverstone with Max, but then a project at work was fumbled by a coworker, and you had to pick up the pieces. It was nice to hear Max's recaps of the day, with Lando's comments in between; on the phone with them like you had when you were younger.

The box is wrapped badly, so at least you know Lando wrapped it himself. You hook your finger in an opening, tearing off the paper. At first, you think you're going crazy, your sleepiness jumbling the words on the box. Then, you're dreaming because in what world is Lando buying you a €4,600 camera? "Lando." Your voice is a bit harsher than you intended, and you see the worry fill his face. "You— Why would you buy me this? I barely take photos anymore." A Leica Q2: the camera you had recommended for Lando. Not for you. Because you knew he had the money and wanted to be artsy and dramatic. You didn't need this. You're fine with the camera you picked up at a second-hand shop after your digital camera gave out.

"I thought it was just ‘cause you had a...bad camera. I can return it. I just thought you'd like it. When you recommended it, you sounded like you were in love with it. And— You deserve it." Lando's eyes flicker to Max's, who have been more focused on him than you.

"I'll keep it, but don't spend this much money on me again." Your fingers gently touch the box; hesitantly because this camera just became the most expensive thing you own. Lando laughs weakly, awkward because Max hasn't taken his eyes off him.

You go out to eat later in the night, and when Max disappears to the bathroom you get a text.

max 💞 he likes you

100%

you shut up

max 💞 i looked up the camera it's fucking expensive

you i know (6:38 pm)

max do you think he likes me too? (6:44 pm)

You don't respond to his text, but when he comes back to the table, you squeeze his hand in silent reassurance. Lando watches from the other side of the table, looking guilty. Neither of you notice, too caught up in your thoughts.

July 2023 — 24 years old

2nd mother don't forget what we talked about!

lando 🙄 ik

"Are you listening?" Lando looks up from his phone, immediately shutting it off at Max's annoyed look. The apology is on the tip of his tongue, but Max rolls his eyes and keeps talking.

"I was thinking about that restaurant down the corner for Wednesday?" Lando's nose scrunches up, thinking of the sushi bar just a few buildings down. Apparently, Max can read his mind. "Not the sushi place, the one with all the...plants and stuff. I don't know the name, Y/n does I think."

"She's uh, coming with us then?" Max's eyes narrow, and Lando shrinks because he read this wrong. He thought it'd just be him and Max, and now he can't flirt with Max in front of his girlfriend, can he? There's also the uneasiness in his stomach when around you both at the same time that he doesn't want to feel. He feels left out; and wants to be a trio again, preferably with more physical affection, thanks. "Yeah, well. Neither of us have seen you in a while."

Lando stares at Max for a second, sees his anger in the tightness of his shoulders. He should spit it out already.

"I just— I don't want to be your third wheel anymore."

"Then get a girlfriend. I'm sure you've got enough girls in your dms to find one." Max sounds pissed, but that's not what Lando was trying to say. He groans, leaning against the counter in his kitchen, head in his hands.

"That's not what I meant!" He looks at Max as he says, "I want it to be us three again, like a trio or a fucking throuple. I want both of you and I have been excluded for years. I'm desperate at this point, Max."

"You're kidding." Max's voice is weak, staring at Lando like he's grown five heads. "No, I'm not."

"You should've said something sooner, you muppet." Max's hand gently touches the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. Lando groans, gripping onto Max's t-shirt like he'll float away. He could stay in this moment forever, but there's still someone missing.

On Wednesday, you meet Max and Lando at the restaurant down the street from Lando's London apartment. You hadn't been able to attend Silverstone, again, stuck in another country for work. But you're here, and they're smiling brightly when they see you. You don't even get to say 'hi' before Lando pulls you into a hug, restricting but very warm and familiar. "I missed you."

"I missed you too. Now, let go. I don't think I can breathe." Lando laughs, letting go of you so you can hug Max. They both look happier than they have in a while, and you can't help but question it. You don't get to voice your opinion before you're pulled into the restaurant.

The table is a slightly bigger single table, so there's enough space for all your plates. You sit with your back to the rest of the building, Max on your left and Lando on your right. Things feel like they've shifted; Lando seems more like his old self around you two — another question to ask.

Max is discussing something with Lando about Quadrant when you feel something tap your ankle underneath the table. You eye Lando, who's got an impish grin on his face.

You forget about it until his shoe bumps your ankle again, causing you to hit your knee against the table. Max stops talking, looking at both you and Lando. "Everything all right?"

"Yep, all good," You say before kicking Lando's calf underneath the table. He tries to hide his pain, but Max can tell, rolling his eyes. "You're both terrible. I swear I can't take you anywhere together."

"Well, that's gonna be a problem, isn't it?" Lando murmurs, and they've both got matching teasing grins.

"Alright, what's going on? All of a sudden you're like reading each other's minds. Tell me."

"Lando wants us to be a throuple. You, me, him." Max grins, and well, that explains a lot. You barely think before you speak. "You're kidding."

Lando rolls his eyes, "Is it so hard to believe that I could like both of you?" You look at Max, who shrugs, "Well— I love you guys, just accept it. Deal with it. There's no going back from here." Lando cuts Max off, grabbing both your hands and dragging them toward the center of the table.

"You're all mine now. Double WAGs...Wait, can Max be a WAG or is there something different for that?"

"Just stop talking. That's probably the least of our worries."

i'm thinking of making a lil addition of this from like fans/internet perspective if anyone's interested? cause i love writing stuff like that lol 😊 tell me your thoughts?

[satellite-evans]

Familiar Echoes

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Summary: When Y/N, the daughter of the duke of Ashbourne returns to Aubrey Hall, old feelings resurface between her and Benedict Bridgerton, sparking tension and intrigue. As they navigate past misunderstandings with the support of their families, they must confront their emotions and decide if their childhood bond can evolve into something more.

Word count: 4.7k words

Warnings: fluff, a little angst, mention of nude models, childhood friends, misunderstanding

A/N:

Hi everyone, this is my first Benedict fic so I am very excited, hope you guys will like it :)

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

Happy reading xxx

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

The sun cast a warm, golden glow over Aubrey Hall, its rays filtering through the trees and illuminating the vibrant gardens where the Bridgerton children played. Benedict Bridgerton, with his dark curls and inquisitive eyes, was only ten years old, yet he was already showing signs of the artistic and passionate young man he would become.

In the gardens, Benedict was engrossed in a spirited game of hide-and-seek with his siblings and their dear friends, the Y/L/Ns. The daughter of the Duke of Ashbourne, Y/N, was Benedict’s favorite playmate. Her laughter was his favorite and her eyes mirrored something so beautiful, so pure.

Benedict, you’ll never find me!” Y/N called out, her voice echoing through the hedges.

He grinned, determined to prove his best friend wrong. They had spent countless afternoons exploring the grounds, creating imaginary worlds, and sharing secrets that only they understood.

Finally, he spotted her hiding behind a rosebush. “Got you!” he exclaimed, grabbing her hand and twirling her around.

She laughed, her joy infectious. “You always find me, Benedict.”

He smiled, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “I’ll always find you, Y/N.”

But the idyllic days of childhood were not to last. That evening, over dinner, the Duke of Ashbourne announced that his family would be leaving London for an extended stay in Italy. The news hit Benedict like a blow, and he struggled to hide his disappointment. He looked over at his friend and saw those same pure eyes filling up with tears. It broke his tiny heart into pieces.

“Leave London? Whatever for?”

Benedict was thrilled that his mother asked because he desperately needed to know why they had to leave.

“We have decided it is time to show our children the world. My father took me on similar journeys when I was their age, and those experiences were invaluable. I want Thomas and Y/N to have the same opportunities—to see different places, learn new things, and broaden their horizons.”

Your mother nodded in agreement, her expression resolute. “We believe it will be good for their education. There’s so much to learn beyond the walls of London, and we want to give them a chance to explore and grow in ways they cannot here.”

Violet glanced at the Viscount, her husband Edmund, who had been listening quietly. He smiled and nodded, understanding the importance of such a decision. “I agree with you, William,” he said to your father. “Traveling and experiencing different cultures can provide a wealth of knowledge and perspective that one simply cannot gain from books alone.”

Thomas, your older brother, seemed very excited about the upcoming adventure.

But Y/N did not.

She was thinking all about how terribly she was going to miss her dear friend Benedict and how awful it was going to be, not to be in his presence all the time.

After dinner, Benedict found Y/N in the music room, softly playing the pianoforte. He approached her, his heart heavy.

“Why do you have to go?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N looked up, her eyes filled with sadness. “Father believes it’s for the best. He wants us to experience life. He also mentioned that we will also visit Greece and many more."

“But what about us? What about our adventures?” Benedict’s voice cracked with emotion.

She reached out, taking his hand in hers. “We’ll always have our memories, Benedict. And we’ll see each other again. I promise.”

Benedict squeezed her hand, trying to hold back tears. “Promise?”

“Promise,” she echoed, her voice firm despite the tears in her eyes.

After staying a few more days at Aubrey Hall, the Y/L/N family departed, leaving a void in Benedict’s heart. As their carriage disappeared down the long driveway, he stood beside his father, Edmund Bridgerton, who placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Time will pass quickly, my boy,” Edmund said gently. “And you’ll see her again before you know it.”

Benedict nodded, but the ache in his heart remained. Little did he know, their next meeting would be years away, and the feelings he harbored would only grow stronger with time.

Years had passed since the Y/L/N family’s departure, and Benedict had grown into a handsome and talented young man. He pursued his passion for art with fervor, yet a part of him always yearned for the companionship he had once shared with Y/N.

The sun had just begun to set, casting a warm golden glow over Aubrey Hall, when Lady Violet Bridgerton received the letter. She was seated in the drawing room with her children, each engaged in their own activities. Anthony was reviewing estate documents, Colin was reading a book, Eloise was writing furiously in her notebook, and the younger ones were playing a game by the fireplace.

"Everyone," Lady Violet called, her voice filled with excitement. "I have just received the most wonderful news."

The Bridgerton children looked up, curiosity piqued.

"What is it, Mother?" Anthony asked, setting aside his papers.

Lady Violet grinned. "We are to have guests. The Duke and Duchess of Ashbourne, along with their children, are coming to visit."

A chorus of reactions followed. Eloise raised an eyebrow. "The Ashbournes? Weren't they the family that moved away to travel the world?"

"Yes, indeed," Lady Violet confirmed. "The duke was a dear friend of your father. They moved away years ago, but they have decided to return for a time."

"Does this mean we’ll get to see Thomas again?" Colin asked, a grin spreading across his face. "I always liked him."

"And Y/N," Daphne added, her eyes twinkling. "I remember she was always so talented in the pianoforte and the harp."

Benedict remained silent, a slight blush creeping up his neck. He hoped no one would notice, but of course, Anthony did.

"Well, well, Benedict," Anthony said, a mischievous glint in his eye. "It looks like your childhood crush will be reunited with you," Anthony said, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Benedict tried to maintain his composure. "Don't be ridiculous, Anthony. That was ages ago."

Colin chimed in, unable to resist the opportunity to tease his brother. "Oh, come on, Benedict. We all remember how you used to follow her around like a lost puppy."

Eloise snickered. "And how you would turn bright red whenever she spoke to you."

Benedict sighed, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. "I was a child. We’ve all grown up since then."

"Perhaps," Anthony said, leaning back in his chair. "But it will be interesting to see how things play out now that you’re both adults."

Lady Violet intervened, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Enough teasing, boys. Let us make sure everything is ready for their arrival. They will be here in a few days, and I want everything to be perfect."

As the family dispersed to prepare for their guests, the three Bridgerton brothers found themselves alone in the study.

Anthony leaned against the desk, his expression thoughtful. "It will be good to see Thomas again. He was always a good friend."

Colin nodded. "I heard he’s become quite the gentleman. And he was always supportive of Y/N’s education and talents. Not like most men of our time."

"True," Anthony agreed. "Thomas was never one to adhere strictly to societal norms. He always did what he thought was right."

Benedict, who had been quiet, finally spoke up. "I wonder how much Y/N has changed. She was always so passionate about music and poetry."

Colin grinned. "Still thinking about her, eh? You know, Anthony and I used to place bets on when you would finally tell her how you felt."

Benedict rolled his eyes. "You’re never going to let this go, are you?"

Anthony laughed. "Not a chance. But in all seriousness, Benedict, it will be good to see them again. And who knows? Maybe this visit will bring about some unexpected surprises."

Benedict sighed, but a small smile played on his lips. "Maybe."

Y/N stood by her bedroom window, looking out at the rolling hills of their estate as the sun began its slow descent. She was filled with a mix of excitement and apprehension about their imminent departure to Aubrey Hall. The Bridgertons had always held a special place in her heart, especially Benedict, but years and distance had complicated those feelings.

"Are you ready, Y/N?" Thomas's voice called from the hallway.

Y/N turned away from the window and smiled as her brother entered the room. "Almost. Just gathering my thoughts."

Thomas gave her a knowing look. "Excited to see the Bridgertons again?"

"Of course," Y/N replied, smoothing down her dress. "It's been too long."

Thomas leaned against the doorframe, his expression thoughtful. "You know, Anthony mentioned in his letters that Benedict has been quite busy at the Royal Academy. Apparently, the place is famous for its...nude models."

Y/N's hand froze mid-air, her heart skipping a beat. "Nude models?"

Thomas nodded, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Yes, it seems our dear Benedict has been immersing himself in all aspects of art. Anthony said in his letter something about him knocking over an easel while staring at a rather attractive model. Everyone had a good laugh. Quite the scandal, isn't it?"

Y/N's cheeks flushed as she tried to mask her reaction. "It's part of his training, I'm sure. Nothing more."

Thomas watched her carefully, his smirk growing. "You’re right. Still, it's interesting, don’t you think?"

Y/N forced a smile. "What’s your point, Thomas?"

"My point," he said, stepping closer, "is that you seem unusually interested in Benedict’s artistic pursuits."

Y/N met her brother’s gaze firmly. "I’m interested in all my friends' pursuits. Nothing unusual about that."

Thomas chuckled, shaking his head. "Very well. But remember, Y/N, I know you better than anyone. I can tell when something—or someone—is on your mind."

Y/N lifted her chin. "And I can assure you, Thomas, that my mind is perfectly clear."

"Fine, fine," Thomas said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "But if you ever need to talk about anything, you know where to find me."

Y/N nodded, grateful for her brother's support, even if she wasn’t ready to share her feelings. "Thank you, Thomas. Now, let’s focus on the journey ahead."

"Agreed," Thomas said, offering his arm. "Shall we?"

Y/N took his arm, and they made their way downstairs where their parents were waiting. As they stepped outside, she felt excited about the days to come. But also jealousy, which she never felt before in her life. She knew that it was none of her business what Benedict did or did not do. Nevertheless, she could not help herself feeling this way.

The journey to Aubrey Hall was filled with excitement and nostalgia. As their carriage approached the estate, memories of their childhood flooded Y/N’s mind. She felt a mix of eagerness and nervousness, wondering how much had changed. Still, there was a feeling Y/N couldn't shake away. The things that her brother told her about Benedict still haunted her. Benedict changed, she knew that for certain, but she really hoped that his feelings did not.

" It feels so strange to be back again," Thomas said, making Y/N turn to him. "It is like we have never left."

Her father nodded. "I get what you mean. It was like yesterday when you and Benedict were chasing Y/N and Daphne in the garden while Edmund and I were watching with a smile on our faces."

After mentioning the late Viscount, the eyes of your father started to fill with tears. He was in shock when the news came that Edmund passed away. It took him a few months to process the tragic loss of his closest friend. Y/N could not even imagine what Benedict went through.

"We all miss him terribly," your mother said, taking her husband's hand in hers. "But there is no need to sadden ourselves with the past. You will get to see Anthony as the new viscount. I'm sure he fitted the title well."

Your father smiled at his wife and kissed her hand. She always knew how to lift her spirits.

"Just like how Thomas will fit the title of the duke of Ashbourne well." Thomas rolled his eyes while Y/N and her parents started laughing.

"Believe me, father, that it will be years before I will get the title. You will live a long life with mama and your children and grandchildren by your side."

the funny banter between the Ashbourne family was not something new. They always have differed from the rest of the ton. There was no marriage pressure. The duke and duchess put the education of their children first, wanting nothing but happiness for them.

"Look, they have arrived!"

The Ashbourne carriage rolled to a stop in front of Aubrey Hall, the Bridgerton family waiting outside to greet their guests. The air was filled with anticipation and a touch of nostalgia as the two families prepared to reunite after so many years.

Lady Violet stepped forward with a warm smile. "Welcome, welcome!"

The Duke of Ashbourne, a distinguished gentleman with a friendly demeanor, was the first to step out, helping his elegant wife, the Duchess of Ashbourne, out of the carriage. Following them were Thomas and Y/N, who looked around with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"It’s wonderful to see you, Violet," the Duke said, embracing Lady Violet. "Thank you for having us."

"The pleasure is all ours," Lady Violet replied. "We’ve missed you terribly."

As the Ashbournes stepped out of the carriage, the Bridgerton children moved forward to greet them. Anthony, Colin, and Benedict engulfed Thomas in a warm embrace.

"Thomas, it’s been far too long," Anthony said, clapping him on the back.

"Indeed," Thomas replied, smiling. "It’s good to see you all."

Y/N followed, greeting each Bridgerton sibling with a warm smile and a hug, her demeanor friendly and welcoming. However, when she reached Benedict, her expression changed. She gave him a polite nod; her smile barely reaching her eyes.

When Benedict watched her getting out of the carriage, he only had one thought.

She is breathtakingly beautiful.

Her blonde hair changed into a darker shade of brown, but her eyes were the same. They were still mirroring such beauty he wished he could draw. Her smile was still contagious, affecting him immediately with his own.

" Mr Bridgerton, it is good to see you. How have you been?"

Mr Bridgerton? Why was she so formal suddenly? Was she not as excited to see him as he was seeing her?

"Miss Y/L/N, It is great to see you too. I am well, thank you for asking, been quite busy with my paintings."

Y/N’s gaze turned icy. "So I’ve heard." Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked straight inside, leaving Benedict standing there, bewildered.

As Benedict watched her retreating figure, he felt a pang of hurt and confusion. He glanced towards Thomas, who was already looking at him with a knowing look, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Sensing the tension in the air, Thomas was the first to speak. "Well, it is rather chilly out here. Let’s all follow my dear sister inside, shall we?"

The group laughed, the tension easing slightly as they followed Thomas into the grand entrance hall of Aubrey Hall.

As they made their way inside, the tension between Y/N and Benedict did not go unnoticed by the rest of the family. Lady Violet exchanged a concerned glance with the duchess while Anthony observed the interaction with a furrowed brow.

Once inside, they were led to the grand dining room, where a sumptuous feast awaited them. The grand dining room at Aubrey Hall was resplendent with crystal chandeliers casting a warm glow over the elegantly set table.

The Duke of Ashbourne, seated beside Lord Anthony Bridgerton, raised his glass. “To old friends and new beginnings,” he toasted, his voice rich and warm.

The toast was met with a chorus of agreement and the clinking of glasses. As the first course was served, Lady Violet began the conversation. “William, Eleanor, how has your journey been so far? Any memorable adventures?”

Eleanor smiled, glancing at her children. “It’s been a wonderful experience. We’ve seen so many beautiful places, and the children have learned a great deal.”

“Indeed,” the Duke added. “Thomas and Y/N have taken to it splendidly. Y/N, in particular, has been quite inspired by the landscapes for her poetry.”

Lady Violet’s eyes sparkled with interest. “Poetry, Y/N? That’s marvelous. You must share some with us later.”

Y/N smiled politely. “Of course, my lady. I’d be happy to.”

As the conversation flowed, it eventually turned to the Bridgerton siblings. “Benedict,” the Duke said, turning his attention to the second eldest Bridgerton, “I hear you’ve made quite a name for yourself at the Academy.”

Benedict, who had been quietly observing Y/N, nodded. “Yes, Your Grace. I’ve been fortunate to study under some very talented artists.”

Y/N, unable to suppress her irritation, interjected with a cool tone. “Including some very talented models, I’ve heard.”

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Benedict’s cheeks reddened slightly, but he maintained his composure. “Yes, we do work with models. It’s a necessary part of our training.”

The duchess, sensing the awkwardness, tried to steer the conversation back on track. “I’m sure the experience has been invaluable, Benedict. Art requires such dedication.”

Benedict nodded, but his eyes remained on Y/N. “It has been invaluable. Every aspect of it contributes to our growth as artists.”

Thomas, ever the peacemaker, chimed in. “Anthony told us about some of your work. It sounds quite impressive.”

Y/N’s lips curled into a tight smile. “Yes, very impressive. Especially the part where you managed to knock over an easel. Quite the spectacle, I hear.”

Benedict’s jaw tightened, and he glanced around the table, noting the concerned expressions of his family. “It was a mistake. One that was quickly rectified.”

Colin, trying to lighten the mood, laughed. “Well, Benedict has always had a flair for the dramatic.”

Eloise nudged her brother. “Perhaps a bit too much flair, at times.”

Laughter rippled around the table, but the underlying tension remained. Y/N felt a pang of guilt but was too stubborn to relent. She glanced at her brother, who gave her a pointed look, silently urging her to ease up.

Lady Violet, ever the gracious hostess, smoothly transitioned the conversation to more neutral topics, asking about the sights the Ashbourne family had visited and their future plans. The dinner continued, but the strained interactions between Y/N and Benedict cast a shadow over the evening.

As dessert was served, Lady Violet addressed Y/N directly. “Y/N, my dear, I’ve heard you play the pianoforte beautifully. Would you grace us with a performance after dinner?”

Y/N, grateful for the distraction, nodded. “Of course. It would be my pleasure.”

The meal concluded with polite conversation, but the tension lingered. Y/N excused herself to prepare for her performance, and as she left the dining room, she felt Benedict’s gaze on her, filled with a mix of hurt and confusion.

Later that evening, Y/N sat at the grand pianoforte in the drawing room, her fingers dancing gracefully over the keys. Heart filled with the hauntingly beautiful melody of a piece, she knew the room—Benedict's favorite.

The Bridgertons and Y/L/N's watched in silent admiration, but Benedict’s eyes never left Y/N. He was captivated, every note and every word pulling him deeper into the memories of their shared past. As the song drew to a close, Y/N’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, and as the last note lingered in the air, a single tear slipped down her cheek. Across the room, Benedict’s own eyes misted over, a tear tracing a path down his face as well. The rest of the family exchanged knowing glances, sensing the intense, unspoken connection between the two.

Y/N stood, curtsied, and, with a polite smile, excused herself from the room, needing a moment alone to compose herself. As she walked down the dimly lit hallway, her heart ached with a mixture of regret and confusion.

Benedict, unable to bear the distance and misunderstanding any longer, quietly followed her into a room. “Y/N, wait,” he called softly.

She stopped but didn’t turn around, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “Yes, Benedict?” Her voice was calm but strained.

He approached her cautiously, his expression a mix of determination and vulnerability. “Why are you treating me like this? What have I done to deserve your coldness?”

Y/N finally turned to face him, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and hurt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Benedict. I’ve been perfectly polite.”

Benedict shook his head, frustration evident in his voice. “No, you haven’t. You’ve been distant, cold. This isn’t like you. Please, tell me what’s wrong so that I can fix it."

She crossed her arms defensively, her gaze piercing. “I don’t know what you’re imagining, but there’s nothing wrong. Perhaps you’re just seeing what you want to see.”

His frustration bubbled over, and he stepped closer, his voice low and intense. “This isn’t about what I want to see, Y/N. This is about what’s real. You’ve changed towards me, and I need to know why.”

She took a step back, her breath hitching. “It doesn’t matter, Benedict. Go back to your paintings and models. I could not care less."

His frustration turned to desperation, Benedict reached out and gently but firmly grasped her arm, pulling her back towards him. They stood face to face, the tension between them crackling with electricity. His voice was a murmur, filled with desperate longing. “But you do care, don't you? Why do you care, Y/N? Tell me.”

Her eyes locked onto his, the intensity of his gaze making her heart race. She tried to look away, but he cupped her cheek, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Tell me, Y/N. Please.”

Her defenses crumbled, and she whispered, her voice breaking. “I don’t care. Why should I? What you do is your own concern.”

His grip on her arm tightened slightly, his breath warm against her skin as he leaned in closer. “You do care. I can see it in your eyes. In your big beautiful eyes. Why won’t you admit it?”

Her voice was barely more than a whisper, trembling with the effort of holding back her emotions. “Because it’s easier not to. Because admitting it means facing the truth.”

“What truth?” Benedict’s voice was a mere breath away, his lips inches from hers.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she could no longer deny the truth to herself or to him. “That I never stopped caring about you, Benedict. That I’ve loved you since we were children, and the thought of you with someone else… it breaks my heart.”

His eyes softened, and he leaned in closer, his breath mingling with hers. “And I’ve loved you, Y/N. I’ve loved you every single day we’ve been apart.”

She closed her eyes, the tears finally spilling over. “Then why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“I was a fool,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same way. But I can’t keep it inside any longer.”

Before she could respond, he closed the distance between them, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. The world seemed to fade away as they poured all their longing and love into that one moment, finally allowing themselves to feel what they had denied for so long.

When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other. “No more secrets,” Y/N whispered, her voice shaky but filled with hope.

“No more secrets,” Benedict promised, his eyes shining with love and determination.

They stood there for a moment, holding each other, the weight of their confessions lifting from their shoulders. The tension that had once filled the air was replaced with a sense of peace and newfound understanding.

Just then, a voice broke the silence. "Well, well, what do we have here?"

Y/N and Benedict sprang apart, startled, as Thomas stepped into the hallway. His expression was serious, his eyes locked on Benedict. Y/N's heart raced, fearing her brother's reaction.

"Thomas, I—" Y/N began, but Thomas held up a hand to silence her.

"I always knew I’d have to deal with this day," Thomas said, his voice low and dangerous. He turned his gaze to Benedict, who stood his ground, though a hint of apprehension flickered in his eyes. "Benedict Bridgerton, you have compromised my sister's honor. There’s only one way to settle this."

Y/N’s eyes widened in fear. "Thomas, please, don’t—"

Thomas continued, a stern look on his face. "We must duel."

The hallway fell silent, the tension thick in the air. Then, to Y/N's utter astonishment, Thomas’s serious expression broke into a wide grin, and he burst out laughing.

"I’m just kidding!" he exclaimed, clapping Benedict on the shoulder. "You should have seen your faces!"

Benedict let out a relieved laugh, shaking his head. "Thomas, you nearly gave us both a heart attack."

Y/N exhaled deeply, her heart still pounding. "Thomas, that wasn’t funny!"

"It was a little funny," Thomas said, still chuckling. "But really, everyone in the drawing room is waiting for you two. They’ve been hoping for this day for a long time."

Y/N and Benedict exchanged a glance, their relief mingled with the lingering rush of adrenaline.

Thomas gestured back towards the drawing room. "Come on, let’s not keep them waiting."

As they re-entered the room, the gathered family turned to look at them. Lady Violet and the duchess’s faces lit up with delight, and Daphne’s eyes sparkled with joy. The Duke of Ashbourne stood beside Lady Eleanor, his expression warm and approving. Anthony, Colin, Eloise, Gregory, and Hyacinth were also present, each showing various degrees of amusement and happiness.

"There you are!" Lady Violet said, her smile warm and knowing. "We were starting to wonder if you’d gotten lost."

"Come on," Colin said, grinning broadly. "Don't keep us waiting. Are you finally together or not?"

Y/N's cheeks flushed as she glanced at Benedict, who nodded, smiling. "Yes, we are," she said, her voice clear and steady.

Lady Eleanor’s face lit up even more. "Well, then, I think it’s safe to say we can start planning a wedding."

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. "Mama, it’s way too soon for that!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flushing even deeper.

The Duke of Ashbourne chuckled, patting Y/N's shoulder gently. "Your mother is just excited, dear. But we should let the young couple take their time."

Colin and Anthony, standing near the fireplace, exchanged a look and grinned. "Well, Benedict, looks like you’ve finally caught the eye of a Duke’s daughter," Colin teased.

"Always aiming high, aren’t you, brother?" Anthony added, his tone playful.

Benedict, his arm still around Y/N, beamed. "I guess I’ve always known what I wanted."

Daphne approached Y/N, embracing her warmly. "Welcome to the family, officially."

Y/N’s heart swelled with happiness. "Thank you, Daphne. I’m so glad to be here."

Eloise, ever the sharp-witted observer, smirked. "Well, it’s about time. I was beginning to think you two would never figure it out."

Gregory and Hyacinth, the youngest Bridgerton's, clapped excitedly. "Does this mean we get to have another party?" Gregory asked, his eyes wide with anticipation.

Hyacinth grinned. "I hope so! I love weddings!"

As the evening continued, the family celebrated the long-awaited union. Lady Violet and Lady Eleanor eagerly discussed wedding plans, while the Bridgerton brothers teased Benedict good-naturedly.

Thomas, watching the scene with a satisfied smile, caught Y/N’s eye and gave her an encouraging nod. She smiled back, her heart full.

Later, as the festivities wound down, Y/N and Benedict found a quiet moment together. He took her hand, his eyes full of love. "I meant every word I said earlier, Y/N. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

She looked up at him, her heart brimming with emotion. "And I love you, Benedict. More than I can say."

He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her lips. "Let's always be together. Always."

"Agreed," she whispered, feeling the weight of the past lift away.

As they stood there, surrounded by family and love, Y/N knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful future together.

[strawberrystepmom]

yami x f!noble reader. cw smoking, sex insinuated, misogyny and mentions of marriage as well as fertility but not on yami's part. i just like these two sorry for party rockin | wc 1.1k, divider thanks to @cafekitsune

you can read more about these two here

“I know it’s impolite to ask but what happened between the two of you?”

Yami chuckles, shoulders pressed against the rickety headboard behind him. 

“Who?” He asks, well aware of what you mean despite his attempt to seem unsure. You sigh, turning to look at him. 

“Charlotte.”

A moonbeam pours in over the two of you, the room otherwise dark and silent, the stillness emboldening you to finally ask him some questions. Tightening the sheet that is wrapped around your body, you dare glance up at him to find him already staring at you, as though he’s trying to figure out why you’d ask in the first place.

“Sometimes things just don’t work out,” he shrugs flippantly. You get the sense that he’s downplaying but keep it to yourself, wide eyes watching his every movement. “We were more different than we thought and decided to go our separate ways and it has been mostly fine.”

Perhaps it’s naivety (or the four failed engagements) but you believe that you understand what he means, nodding slowly. You’ve always viewed love as an ever changing puzzle, similar to the one in your father’s study at home. A wooden frame holds ceramic sliding tiles and you position them again and again until a picture is clear and in front of you - what you’ve been looking for the entire time. 

You blink hard and glance down at your hands, once again pulling the linens over your exposed cleavage. Goosebumps prickle your skin, forcing you to dive further under, and he notices and pulls you against his warm side.

“Since we’re asking questions all of sudden, how about you?” He raises a brow, sliding lower into the bed and giving you room to rest your head against the firmness of his stomach. “Four is damn near impressive.”

Mirroring his prior shrug, you contemplate quietly what it truly means to tell four men you don’t want to marry them. Arrogant is what one told you and you found it hard to disagree when he was red cheeked and yelling at you. Frigid was what another said, accusing you of hiding potential issues with producing an heir for his family. A third said nothing but left you silently to consider your opinion of yourself, sitting in a wooden backed chair in the study where that slide puzzle rested on a table across from you while he cast you a disappointed glance.

The fourth and most recent you objected to before he could harm your ego further, refusing his offers of land and jewels. You have both of those things. You’re an heiress in your own right despite the sons your father has now sired amongst your 11 siblings. Physical means mean nothing to you when what you desire is deeper than gilded flesh. 

“I cannot commit to living a life where I will be unable to be who I am.” 

You finally answer after prolonged silence, giving yourself permission to be honest since he was honest with you. 

“So you don’t want to get married?” He asks, finally lighting a cigarette but politely blowing the smoke in the opposite direction of you. You shake your head, the back of it against his stomach, leaving you to look up at him. “The opposite, actually. I would love to be married and to have a family but not at the cost of myself and having to be misunderstood to maintain peace.”

He hums, a sound you believe is some level of understanding of what you mean, and inhales another puff. 

“What makes you so different from all the other noble girls?”

The question would be offensive if it were to be asked by anyone else but you know Yami. He’s rough around the edges and sometimes a bit too curt in saying what he means but there’s genuine curiosity not derision in his tone. 

“I’m apprehensive to say that I am all that different considering how similar our upbringings tend to be yet I feel like I’ve never quite fit in with them.” Your head remains resting in the cradle of his slightly bent middle, the cherry glow of his cigarette illuminating his face enough you can make out those wise eyes staring at your mouth. “I’ve never loved high society. It’s suffocating and everyone is very judgemental and most of them have already, probably correctly, theorized that I will be a spinster left to take care of my siblings for all my life.”

A chuckle rumbles through him in tandem with a shake of his head you can see thanks to the glow of his cigarette. He mumbles around the filter, one big hand coming to rest on the covered dip of your waist. “Don’t say shit like that. You’re pretty and smart and funny once you get to runnin�� your mouth so what’s the point in pretending you aren’t?”

Your face warms beneath his praise and your eyes dart away from him, choosing to settle on the specs of dust floating through the single beam of light shining through the room. You’ve already given him more of yourself than you intended and not simply your body, your feelings as well. There’s no turning back so you continue, feeling your heart beating in your throat while speaking.

“I believe it’s easier for me to make all of this my fault,” you nearly whisper, keeping your gaze locked on the ceiling above while you’re making a confession. “To believe there’s something wrong with me rather than the system we use to decide people’s value.”

Stamping out his cigarette against the windowsill with his free hand, he squeezes your waist with the occupied one and draws your attention back, leaving you blinking up at him.

“Well don’t. It doesn’t seem like you’re the problem here at all.” Another squeeze and your heart beats in time with it. There’s an easy smile on his face, one you can barely make out in the dim room, yet you match it with one of your own.  “I think you have plenty of time to find someone if you want to,” he continues. 

“I think the same of you, Yami.” An unexpected response. He raises a brow, sliding further down into the bed beside you. You remain with your head against him, tucked into his side, a large arm wrapped around your waist. “I think the woman who ends up with you will be lucky.”

Pulling you tighter against him, he considers your sentiment and hums.

“I guess you’ll have to ask her when that day comes if she’s lucky or not.”

You nod once, deciding to let silence win you both over as the night continues to fade away, hoping to prolong your time with him as much as possible without any further interruption.

[luckypunklemonade]

Nothing to Lose

| Did you ever realize how far apart you and Stiles grew, even as you spent hours together?

[smut MDNI 18+ established relationship; oral (fem receiving)] Classic overworked loser boyfriend! (canon) Stiles Stilinski

This work belongs to me, luckypunklemonade (Minte_Condition on AO3). I do not give anyone permission to distribute or share my work without consent.

You’ve always trusted Stiles to know his limits. Never badgered him if he wanted to stay up into the early morning hours researching niche supernatural events or when he’d say he survived off of microwave dinners and PB&J's and hasn’t drank water in a few days. Of course, he loved it when you sternly told him that wasn’t healthy, that he should get more sleep or get up to get him a cup of water. He loved that about you. Seeing you cared when it mattered.

It started when you took his hand in yours and brought it up to your mouth. Pressing small kisses to each of his knuckles, punctuating words he wasn’t listening to. “Stiles?” You frowned, giving up on the conversation.

“Hm?” He’d blink as if his eyelids were sticking together; slow, fazed and distracted.

“You’re not listening,” you’d said, kissing his fingertips.

“M’listening. I was…” he tested bending his fingers, smiling when your lips followed. “I was…”

You could hear the thought die in his throat, the remnants leaving in the form of a small moan as you take his ring finger between your lips.

“Let me make it up to you.”

Then he was resting his cheek against your inner thigh, eyes already glazing over and eyebrows knitted dramatically. An overwhelmed and weak expression. When you had told him you liked it when he looked like that, you suspected he started looking at you with those half-lidded eyes and slightly-parted mouth more often. Whatever makes you happy.

When he spoke in a needy whisper, his voice took on a gravelly static. His ‘M’s and ‘S’s slurring and spilling over into the next word after it. He lost the sense to enunciate words or put much work into the praises and instead focused his efforts into watching your face and sliding his fingers between your legs and letting out a deep exhale, something about how wet you are leaving with it.

It’s been a while for sure. Since you’ve had time for each other. Since you got time alone, really. Consumed by school, work, and helping the pack. You’d joked that the pack couldn’t survive without two humans, he laughed, and you both went back to work. It was comfortable. You hadn’t realized how badly you needed to just be with him until he’d coincidentally sat next to you in the bed for a small break. Reading through the notes you’d both taken, switching the notebook between backpacks every research session, you leaned into him.

Now, he was looking up at you from between your legs, almost cross-eyed at the slick covering his thumb. And when his head dipped down, ready to coat his mouth in you, he knew your mouth would fall open. He knew it did something to you, the boldness of his eye contact while he did something like this, lapping at you, hands holding your thighs down, and humming into you every so often as if he wanted this as much as you did. As your head lolled back, he smiled against you and reached up to hold your hand. He gently guided your hand to the top of his head, his moan vibrating against you as your nails scratch softly at his scalp. He lifts his head and gives you a crooked grin. His lips are wet and his eyes almost sparkle as his voice comes out cracking in need. “M’listening now, sweetheart.”

Before you could answer, his head dipped back down, sucking softly as your hands tighten in his hair. Stiles was indulgent. In his research, mostly, losing track of time and awareness of his own needs. He was often dehydrated, tired, and hungry, making you out to be his guardian angel every time you came over to remind him. He said his ADHD gave him an addictive personality, or his father’s genes. At the very least, he was obsessive. It was useful in research, but you never imagined how advantageous it’d be if he set his sights on you.

He grinned against you and pulled away again, impatient to get his words out. Your eyes fluttered seeing him lick his lips and the words that come out are barely heard, “Missed you.”

The sight makes your heart flutter. His awkward smile because he’d stopped to tell you. His chin was still shiny, and he licked his lips again, enunciating for the first time since you’d kissed his neck,

“I missed you, honey. Am I makin’ it up to you?”

[bigfan-fanfic]

Tradition and Ritual (Male!Reader x Dean Winchester)

Could I request a full fic where Dean does the classic asking his bf's very approving dad for permission before popping the question? Just full, teeth-rottingly-sweet fluff.

Dean isn't necessarily dense. He can be pretty clever at times, though he's not a great wit.

But there is just some kind of mental block when it comes to your father.

Maybe it's his own awful relationship with his own, but he seems almost afraid of your dad.

This is despite the fact that the man is a total sweetheart, and has been your biggest shipper since you first told him you were going to ask Dean out.

Your dad loves Dean - he's always talking him up to you about his skill with cars at the machine shop.

When you and Dean got a place together, your dad has been super excited, certain a proposal can't be far behind.

"Daaaaad!" You protest, and he chuckles.

"What? He's an old-fashioned kind of guy, despite his past. I bet he wants Sweet Child O' Mine played when you walk down the aisle."

You roll your eyes. "Maybe we don't count my chickens before they hatch?"

"You mean your rings before they... get fingered? Nope. Not that."

Your dad chuckles at the weird phrasing. "You two going on another date later?"

"Yeah, he's taking me to dinner tonight."

"Oooooooh..." your dad teases. "Proposal alert!"

"Dad...."

"Fine, fine, just teasing. I won't blab to him at work, don't worry."

"Thank you." You say, smiling as you say goodbye as he heads off to the shop.

Dean is already there prepping when he arrives.

"Heya, kiddo." your dad grins at Dean.

"Ah! Sir."

"Whoa, you're jumpy today."

Dean chuckles nervously. "Yeah, I guess so."

Dean tries to play it off and leave his nervousness behind, but he's anxious all day.

He's clumsy today, accidentally dropping tools more than once and jumping when addressed.

Your dad is pretty concerned about him, and asks him to take his lunch break at the same time as him so they can talk.

"Hey, Dean-O. You doin alright?"

Dean sighs. "I... Look, I know I'm not a very... appealing guy, you know, for your son."

"Whoa, what are you talking about?"

"I'd be protective too, and I-"

"Dean! Dean. Calm down."

Your dad reaches across the table to put a hand on Dean's shoulder to steady him.

Dean looks at him. "It's... there's a right way of doing these things. And I... I love your son, sir. I really do. I know we moved in together and all, but... You have been so kind and welcoming to me, and... honestly, a lot more like a dad to me than my own dad was. And I just wouldn't feel right if I didn't..."

Dean runs out of words or breath, and falls silent, trying to calm himself.

"Say what you need, Dean-O." your dad says softly.

"I want to ask for your blessing. To marry your son. I was planning on proposing tonight."

"Oh my god!" Your dad jumps up and practically scurries around the table to draw Dean into a big hug.

The poor man is so stunned by this enthusiastic reaction, his eyes wide, arms hanging limply by his side.

"Kiddo, this is fantastic! Oh, god, he's gonna flip!"

"So, you... you're okay with-"

"Absolutely! You don't need my permission or my blessing, but I give it wholeheartedly. I'm so happy for you both, kiddo."

Dean tries not to cry, but his eyes are misty, and your dad isn't exactly unmoved either. It's something Dean has loved about him - your dad is masculine enough in his eyes to own and enjoy running an auto shop, but he doesn't feel ashamed at all about showing his feelings.

"I'm so proud of you, Dean-O."

"Thank you, sir."

"Ah! Ah-ah. You gotta call me Dad now."

Dean blinks several times, before he breaks out into a grin. "Yeah. Yeah, thanks... Dad."

Your dad is all smiles that evening when Dean leaves to go shower and pick you up for dinner.

But not as happy as Dean, who is practically glowing. He's about to join himself to you together, and even more, he finally has another father figure in his life who actually cares about him and supports him.

[isasweetie]

so, how did kitty!reader and john b meet ?

you truly were like a cat, prowling through the crowds of people at the boneyard. you had snuck out of the house an hour ago because god knows your father, deputy shoupe, would never let you leave the house to go to a keg party hosted by the pogues. especially because a man had just been found dead in the ocean after the hurricane, your father would take no risks with his innocent and sheltered daughter.

shoupe couldn’t tell you what to do. he’d always tried, but you made up her mind a long time ago that you were better off without his judgement.

you walked over to the pogues, sneaking up behind them to ask for a beer. you were quiet, but less like a stray cat, and more like a black panther. the pogues were startled when youshe appeared behind them, because you’re quiet, even in her black kitten heels.

they seem to be on edge for whatever reason. you’re an innocent-looking girl, they have to reason to be tense. they usually wouldn’t give a fuck if you were the deputy’s daughter, but they’re already on the run, and they can’t take any chances.

so john b does something that normally jj would do in this situation — he charms the enemy. “hey pretty, do you want a beer?” he offers.

“yes please,” you say gently, confident and meek at the same time.

he nods and pours one for you, then hands you the full solo cup. “thanks,” you say, then turn to go. no, he can’t let you leave yet. what if he’s made a bad impression, then something goes wrong with the cops, and you do nothing to protect him?

“hey, wait,” he grabs your shoulder to spin you around. “d’you wanna hang out with me? it’s boring handing out beers here on my own,” he smiles and it’s so sweet.

“i’m actually looking for a friend—“

he shakes his head no and interrupts you. “i’d just love to get to know you better, s’all,”

you gaze up at him, hesitant and on guard, but you nod. he’s cute and he seems nice enough. “okay,” you stand beside him.

“i’m john b routledge,” he introduces while handing a beer to some touron.

you blink up at him, eyebrows furrowed. “big john’s son?”

“yeah, that’s me.”

“oh,” you say. “my dad talks about you,”

“good things?”

“not so much.”

he laughs and you don’t expect it. usually when you find out the deputy of your town hates you, you don’t find it funny. but john b is different — in a good way. that laugh makes you like him instantly, because you realize you’re not the only person who doesn’t worship your dad.

“yeah, figured, your pops doesn’t like me very much,” he shrugs.

“why not?” he’s noticed all your answers are short. you remind him of kiara, a bit closed off.

“nothin’ serious, pretty girl, don’t worry about it. i just don’t wanna be put in fucking foster care, and shoupe and plumb don’t like me living on my own,”

“oh.”

you hear your friend call to you when she spots you in the crowd. you glance up at john b, as if you’re… asking for permission to leave him for your friend? you’re just so used to an overbearing single father, that being around any man makes you think they’ll act the same. truthfully, john b normally would act like that. you’re sweet and innocent and he wants to bring you out of your shell. of course shoupe would be protective, anyone would! but, topper thornton calls his name from another direction, and he knows something will go down.

“yeah, don’t worry, you can go,” he assures.

you nod up at him. “it was nice to meet you john b. i’ll see you around?”

“‘course you will,” he agrees, staring at topper coming closer.

he doesn’t realize just yet how everything is about to go down, and he’ll be seeing you around and begging for help to escape your father before you both know it.