#i want that man so infatuated he forgets her name

[nic-coughlan]

i just want colin once he's married to penelope to call her every sweet name under the sun. i want "my wife" "my love" "dear" "my heart" "my purpose" "love of my life" like he barely says her name anymore he's that lovesick

[hoshigray]

Pretty Please with a cherry and spinkles ontop😩🙏 I need a Pussymatized Toji. Absolutely infatuated with his FWB. He was the one that said no attachments until he got addicted to her.

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: lmao, "pussymatized" is new, but i see the vision!!

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: fwb! Toji x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - kissing/making out - implied prior sex - backshots + missionary positions mentioned - oral (f! receiving) - feedbag position - multiple orgasms - Daddy kink - overstimulation - pet names (baby, good girl, mama, sweetie) - clitoral play (licking and sucking) - pussy-whipped! Toji - mention of spit and tears.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.1k

Toji knew better. He’s done the whole friends with benefits gig plenty of times, and he knows the big rule that comes with the package:

Absolutely no feelings involved, or else the arrangement is off.

“Hoooh…! Ahhhn, T-Toji, stop…Not too fast!”

That is until he met you.

For about a year, you and Toji have been friends with benefits. It started as something Toji told you about, how he’d sleep around and get in those kinds of relationships. You were the one to ask if he’d be down to do it with you.

The onyx-headed one thought about it for a minute until he gave in and said sure. However, he stressed the “no feelings attached” policy intensely. He considered you a dear friend – a rarity in his life – and he didn’t want what you two were doing to damage this close relationship. It was just casual sex with a friend, nothing more. And you nodded to his regulation with a smile, moving your friendship to the next level.

Off the bat, the sex between you two was great! It had been a while since Toji had done stuff like this, and doing it with someone he could trust like you made the interaction smooth and entertaining. Problems between the two of you were rare, and it’s thanks to you two being mature adults that made handling this non-serious relationship easy!

Nevertheless, one thing made this cooperation difficult — at least on Toji’s part. The older man was becoming more and more infatuated with you.

He doesn’t know when it started getting this bad; Toji was never one to be the one catching feelings during these kinds of kinships. So, this was a bit new for him, and it made the poor man go crazy as the days went on. Him? Catching feelings?? Breaking his own rule??? Get real!

But he couldn’t lie to himself, it was all different since he was doing it with you. You were the closest person he could call a friend outside of Shiu, and that never changed once you two became fuck buddies. If anything, things have gotten a lot closer between you two. You cared for his kids while he was away, cooked meals for him because you feared he didn’t eat enough during the day, or invited him on grocery sprees. 

It wasn’t like you didn’t do stuff like that before. Yet now that you and Toji were doing things beyond a regular friendship, the man was seeing you in a new light that he hadn’t seen before, and God, it was suffocating him. He doesn’t know how many of your gorgeous smiles or sweet strings of laughter he can take before he snaps. 

But it wasn’t just your personality and gracious aura that lured him on. As mentioned before, the sex was amazing — No, scratch that; you were amazing. It had been a very long while since Toji had done sexual shit with someone who could reciprocate pleasure. Fuck, you felt so good, whether it was jerking or sucking him off while massaging his balls in your pretty hands, or bouncing on his cock with that tight cunt of yours that had him on the edge, holding on to your waist as he’d piston his cock deep inside. Merely thinking about churning your walls that snug on his cock had him gulp thickly, thinking a heavy sigh would get these thoughts out of his mind.

But they don’t, of course. Because he’d be damned if he’d try to forget the image of your beautiful body all hot and sweaty with his. Your moans and squeaks were all prompted by his thrusts, and – fucking Jesus – he could never get over the way you said his name, so desperate for him with watery, doe eyes that pull him in. Looking all disheveled and alluring for him and only him, peering over your shoulder when he’d hit it from behind like you wanted to see him feel good. Toji would’ve been a fool if he hadn’t fallen for you!

There was a time when Toji’d slip up and hold your hand as he chased release, noticing you catch the sight of his palm and integers gripping yours. Thinking you were uncomfortable, he removed his hand from yours, only for you to wrap your legs around his waist and bring him to you for a kiss. It was just a kiss, is what he’d say to justify it. But hearing you mewl under his lips and whisper to his ears was the last straw for him, hammering his dick and spilling his load into you as you two made out passionately.

Yeah, there was no doubt about it; the guy was falling for you hard.

So hard that he couldn’t stop thinking about you. It scared him a bit – the thought of you being his made his heart beat at a pace he hadn’t experienced in a long time. You corrupted his senses; he wanted to hear you, kiss you, feel you, smell you, taste you — fuck, did he want to taste you; it was so bad.

But it wasn’t as bad until you hadn’t stopped by for two weeks. You’d text him your apologies, saying that work caught you up and that you couldn’t see him and the kids. And even then, you’d still manage to throw a phone call before sleep, and Toji doesn’t know if that was better or worse. Your voice made his skin crawl, loving how you spoke to him all soft and fatigued yet affectionately. You were too good for him, having him feel guilty for fisting his cock unbeknownst to you.

He couldn’t take it anymore, being away from you. He could barely go through the first week, and the second had him itching to see you. That’s precisely what he did, calling you to let you know he’d come to see you. And once you opened the door to greet him with a warm smile, that last bit of thread in him had finally snapped.

“Nnmmah! Hic…shtooopp licking…! I’ll cum again, I’m gonna—!!”

After pulling you in for a hungry kiss, the man brought himself inside your apartment with you glued to him. Feverish pecks kept your lips on him, squeaking at how smoothly he picked you up and brought you to the living room couch. He’d suck on your neck while removing your bottoms, already stifling him with your fragrance to the point he shudders. 

He’d trail his kisses downwards, nibbling on certain areas that made you gasp for him, sucking on the skin of your inner thigh as his fingers rubbed on your folds covered by damp underwear. You had him on his knees, uncaring about the angle. His thoughts only thinking about the wet chasm he sees after discarding your panties. Nothing holds him back from plunging his face into your wetness and showing no signs of stopping when you’re wailing for him. He’d lick, lap, and suck on you with no remorse, face utterly stuck on your slit until you came for the first time. 

“—Ahhaa, I’m cummin’, Tojiii! OhJesusChrist—Nnnmoo!”

“Mmmph…! Fuck, c’mere, sweetie, lemme take care of you…”

And now, he’s chased you down for another climax, your legs tremble and your figure shakes as Toji’s tongue relentlessly pets around your labia, frantically licking your clit to expel more fluids to seep out your vagina.

And Toji drinks it all, stuffing his face into your inner thighs like breathing is not an issue. You cry and involuntarily try to close your legs as your nerves are at an all-time high, grabbing tuffs of raven hair. But the man doesn’t allow you to shy away, his strong hands keeping you grounded on the couch as he eats you out. They never leave your frame unless it’s to unzip his jeans to let his erection breathe. Your cute howls of pleasure, your delightful fluids painting his tongue and lips, and your intoxicating smell; all have his hard-on twitch painfully, precum staining his boxer briefs. 

He’s so far gone, his scarred lips kissing on your folds to gently juxtapose the tongue he uses to fuck you. You jerk and jolt, sobbing from the fervent mouth making sure every crevice of your cunt goes explored. Your orgasm still isn’t away, everything feels so sensitive that you feel like you could break.

“Tahhh, Toji, nooo,” you wail, trying to push his head from burrowing deeper between your thighs. Yet he shows no cooperation. “I just came, yer doing t’oo muuch…!”

Now, he finally removes his face from you, his chin wet with your essence which he licks from his lips. “Sorry, mama,” his rich emerald eyes lock with yours, they have you freeze under his gaze. “But I’m not done yet.” You shake your head, inching your hips away from his proximity. But he captures your waist and slides you back down. “Don’t,” he pleads, placing your legs on his shoulders. “One more time fr’ me, ‘kay, baby? Let Daddy have ya one more time.”

An excruciatingly slow lick from down your slit to your clitoris has you quiver, sloppy kisses further the mess of saliva and come between your legs, and you can’t control the throbbing sensation that returns to ache your inner walls. He chuckles, “Look at ya winkin’ at me, guess ya want more of me too, huh, sweetie?” He makes your ears ring and hot, throwing your head back when he spits and sucks on your clit harshly.

This time, Toji straightens his back a bit to lift your legs with him, hands securing you close to him on your hips. It was a view you hadn’t mentally prepared for, seeing your weight be supported easily. 

He continues to lap around your labia, taking in all the excess slick to suck on, not leaving any drop go undiscovered. His precision has you roll your eyes to the ceiling, a hand griping on his wrist as he rubs on your clit.

“Ohhhfuuuck,” your words were slurring together, brain too mushy to cooperate and form eligible sentences. The man between your legs makes that hard enough. You don’t even attempt to squirm out because Toji’s lips will latch right back onto you. “Daddyyy, right there…More, pleasee.”

“Good girl,” he praises, rewarding you with swirls circling your clitoris before a suck, and your legs cross around to push him further. “That’s my girl…Mmmm, fuckin’ Christ, taste too good…” His deep voice sends vibrations up your spine, chewing on your lip when his tongue nestles in between your soaked folds again.

He pushes the wet muscle back inside, groaning at the sensation of you clamping onto him and bucking your hips in his direction. Your cries fill the quiet space, his name coming out in rushed prayers was the only thing that occupies his eardrums. Fuck, he missed this so fucking bad, arms wrapping around your waist as he pushes his face deep, his nose bumping to the hoop of your pearl while he ravishes your insides.

The squelches of his tongue and lips are so raunchy and nasty, you feel like filth being used like this. You’ve long given up the control to conceal your moans, and Toji listens to every single one with intent. 

“—Ohhh! Ffsshiiit…!” Oh, no. You can feel it, the next wave climbing up. “Daddy, again! Gonna cum again, I cann’t...!”

“Yes, you can, mama,” he coos, blowing on your slick-covered lips. “Just a lil’ more fr’ me, ‘kay? Just let it out.” His mouth returns to erratically fuck you with his tongue, and his gruff moans are felt on your body. The pressure of your thighs squeezing him makes it better, hitting your delicate clit with gentle jabs that rock you into your third orgasm.

You scream, unleashing yourself as your climax rocks your being. Toji has a good hold on you, softly using the flat of his tongue to lazily lick your cunt, massaging your waist as your hips ride on his face. And it doesn’t help that the older man’s cock is oozing on his briefs, his thighs twitching with his erection wanting to be freed.

With a dangerous last kiss to your sensitive folds, Toji places your legs back onto the couch, wiping your come off his chin to lick his fingers clean before bringing his jeans and briefs.

“Wh..What’s gotten into you,” you ask with furrowed brows and hooded eyes like his, both misty with wanton thirst. “I see you’ve been more pent up than me.” He chortles at your jest, and you happily accept the tip of his cock into your mouth with a blissful hum.

“You have no idea, baby…”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ✩ dividers by @/benkeibear.

[th4tprettylittleliar]

pairing: Uni Professor Leon Kennedy x Fem!student reader

CW! : Leon’s cheating ;( , age gap (18 and mid 30s) , degrading themes, reader is a dummy, semi-public sex, (not really) fingering, piv sex, unprotected sex use protection! Reader looses virginity, readers lowkey obsessed , leon fingers her w/ wedding ring (sorry) , Leon’s rude as hell, some religious themes??

A/N : please lmk if there’s any spelling errors! I was really excited to publish this so I proofread fast. Please share this! It’s my first one shot on this blog . EDIT: I proofread now so lmk if there’s still spelling errors or grammatical errors

Okay, fine. Maybe your mother was right. Beauty doesn’t get you that far in life. How were you supposed to know?! For half your life, all you had to do was smile big and everything was handed to you.

Your friends— your popularity.. your boyfriends! You kind of figured everyone just liked your dumb-blonde personality. Not only that but you were just as sweet as a sugar cookie; something someone could crave and desire.. and cherish when it was in their grasp. Sweet and a little dumb? You had everyone at you feet.

Many wished they were you. You were the full package. Except, you were missing just one thing..

Your fucking brain.

It’s not like you were a clutz.. dear god no you weren’t helpless! You just needed extra help. Your daddy always told you that you were a special girl. Your frontal lobe just hasn’t developed yet! That’s why you almost flunked freshman year, that’s why you still use the “L” method to distinguish your left and right, and that’s why it took you nearly 6 retakes of the drivers ed test to finally get your license.

Yet, nobody trusts you enough to give you the keys to their car.

You hated it but you knew it was the price for your beauty. You can’t be that perfect in a world of monstrosity. But yet, even with just your face alone (and maybe a rather rich father) you still got into a good university.

You were so excited when you stepped foot on that campus, you would finally be living out your Rory Gilmore dreams! You were majoring in psychology, and biochemistry. You knew you had to try hard, harder than ever.

Your future depended on whether or not you completed college, and you weren’t going to mess this one up! You were determined. You wanted to live your rich-dentist fantasy with 2 boys. You needed to try your hardest.

Even if your hardest wasn’t enough.

It had almost been a month at university and you already had your eyes locked on someone in particular.

He was so soo dreamy, almost too dreamy. He made you forget that you were here to study, to be a rich mother of two!

You sometimes had to slap yourself to bring yourself back to reality. (Yes, you unconsciously did it in public) you’d get a weird stare or two but you didn’t really mind anymore.

His deep voice echoed against the lecture halls, he sounded stern— mean almost. You absolutely loved it. You loved every minute of that 3 hour lecture period. You thought you’d be bored out of your mind but your brain moved the little thoughts you had left and replaced them with the images of him.

You knew you weren’t the only one who had a infatuation strong liking towards the man.

You heard his name echo all through out that school, the gossip traveled. Every single girl who had a lecture with him either loved him or will eventually love him, it made you jealous.

You’ve never felt like you had to compete for something like this before,

It was always given to you on a golden platter.

It���s not like you could have him anyways. He was your professor. Shocker! You always went for the harder to get ones, figured your looks would do the rest.

Months of just looking down at him from the theatre seats were excruciating. You needed to be right beside him. For the past 4 months that’s all you wanted. You didn’t need to purposely flunk any test because that was already going to happen.

You just wished there was a moment where you could have him all to yourself. That’s all you wanted, a little one on one.

You could’ve easily emailed him and asked for tutoring sessions but why should you? It just doesn’t make sense why he hasn’t offered you any help. Your grades were a mess.

You started to get unmotivated, all you did was analyze him, and hyperfocus on every single one of his attributes. Its the hardest you’ve ever focused on something in your life. Just to go home and fantasize about everything he could do to you. That’s was probably why your grades were a mess.

You decided to pull yourself together and stop. Your dad was threatening to pull you from university calling it, “a waste of money.” So you knew you had to get your act straight.

It was hard, very hard but you stopped obsessing over him. You didn’t want to give up on your own dreams so you went to tutoring groups with your classmates to help get your grade up. That’s where. you met a guy named Miguel that helped you a lot.

You guys usually studied after class, or on the weekends with a cup of complementary coffee always purchased by him. It was a nice distraction from everything. You even managed to start passing the class before the progress report! Your daddy would be proud.

It was like this for weeks. Just the two of you studying for any upcoming tests, or even finishing an assignment together. It was really nice. You were even starting to get really comfortable with him aswell.

Today was another day of that long psychology class. Your usually giggle session with Miguel was some what masked by Professor Kennedy’s talking. You guys were barely taking note of what he’s was teaching.

His same, deep voice echoing through out the lecture hall. Except, every time Miguel and you started to talk amongst yourself, Professor Kennedy went quiet until you guys stopped, embarrassing you both.

You looked up every once and awhile from your computer, pretending to focus on his lesson, just to turn and talk to Miguel again. Professor Kennedy grew annoyed, and paused his lesson.

“Is their something more important up there then what I’m teaching?”

His voice was laced with his grim expression, making your heart drop. Hes never even addressed you like this.

“Excuse me?” Your soft voice ecoed against the loud silence. By the looks of it, your response pissed Mr. Kennedy off.

“Is that the issue? You cant here me? Why don’t you sit down here, sweetheart.” Professor Kennedy looked up at you, meaning buisness. A pout forming on your lips as you picked up your bag. Miguel looked just as shocked as you did while you walked awkwardly down the theatre steps. Plopping yourself in the center of the front row, like he asked.

His arms met the table before you, giving him leverage to lean down. His annoyed voice loud enough for only you to hear,

“How dumb are you? If you wanted to help yourself, you’d pay attention to my lecture. Instead, your giggling up there hoping to clutz your way into his pants, huh? For God’s sake, don’t be stupid and a slut.”

Shock was the only emotion desplayed on your face. Mouth dropped, eyes widening. He smiled before apologizing to the class before continuing his lecture.

Now, it’s a known fact you aren’t the brightest star in the universe, but this was a new low. You didn’t care what he said at all, it just made your stomach fluttery. You knew it’s probably wasn’t okay or even allowed for him to say that.

Not saying being called a slut didn’t hurt your pride, but it just made you fantasize him in a newer light. If slutty was being a little slower and wearing sundresses so be it. You thought you got over this obsession, you thought it was over.

The rest of the class you spent with your mind in a daze and your thighs clenched together. Nobody has made you feel this way. You felt hot, really hot. Tingly too.

If it was any other person, you would’ve let your father handle it. But no, it was Professer Kennedy. Quite frankly, you’d bend over backwards for that man

Class ended, you slowly packed up your things before putting on your school bag. You grabbed your watered down latte in sync as you took a step down the lecture theatre stairs, before hearing your name echo in the now quiet classroom.

“Yes, Professor Kennedy?” Your voice softer than usual as you slowly walked to his desk, your caked face tilting in the process.

“Look, I have my daughters dance recital in a hour and if I’m late my wife is going to beat my ass. So, I’m going to make this quick.” No.. did you here that wrong? he didn’t say wife.. Hopefully he didn’t notice the frown that formed on your face.

“I’ve noticed you’ve got your grades to passing and that’s fine but your barely passing. Your grades aren’t fantastic. I need you to focus on me in my class, not the man sitting next to you. I want you sitting front and center in my lectures going forward.” His tone harsh, how you liked it. This was a blessing from God, putting you right in the path of Leon’s view.

“I thinks it’s best if I sit next to Miguel, he actually helps me out a whole bunch. You should’ve came to me when I was actually failing, Professor Kennedy.” Dumb or not you knew what you were doing. Your sweet smile dawning on your glossed lips, your hands clasped together. He didn’t like that, at all.

“If you wanted to get your grades up, you would’ve came to me. Its university, doll. Do you need your professor following behind you asking if you submitted you assignment?” This is what you loved, the way you were talked to by him made your heart flutter. It was weird, you’ve never felt this way.

“Well, it would’ve helped.” You shrugged, a little giggle escaping your lips but you were met with dead silence and a cold stare. So you stopped.

“Wednesdays, Fridays, and occasionally Saturdays you’ll meet me in here at 6:00 to 8:00 for personal lectures. Dont tell anyone, you’re lucky I’m wasting my time on you. Your grades reflect my teaching so this is mandatory.” His tone monotone and uninterested, you had a bright smile on your face, though. Much more time with Professor Kennedy? This was a dream come true. Sadly, you’d have to end your study sessions with Miguel..

“Thank you so so sooo much Professor! I’ll be sure to come in tomorrow.” Genuine happiness was displayed on your pretty face. Professor Kennedy rolls his eyes before grabbing his briefcase and exiting the lecture haul

“Don’t be late.”

And you did just that.

It wasn’t really your fault… you needed to look good for you tutoring lesson! You wanted to wear this yellow sundress with white ruffles but you couldn’t find it. You looked for almost half an hour just for it to be on your bed.. too bad! Your makeup wasn’t working out either so you needed to restart. Then the car wouldn’t start and… well you get the point.

You also needed your latte so you were about an hour late. You showed up to the empty lecture room, no denying that you looked really good. You just couldn’t find Professor Kennedy.

Suddenly, his office door opens up and your met with an angered man, peering into your soul like he’s about to take it.

“I am so sorry look-“

“Save the bullshit. Your late but you have a fucking Starbucks coffee in your hand?” Proffesor’s voice is echoing off the walls, you gulp before responding

“Coffee helps me focus! I can get you one next time.” Your sweet smile stretched across your face again, trying to lighten the eerie mood.

“No, I don’t want your gratitude. You look like you stepped out of a paegent. Get in here.” He degrades before stepping into his enclosed office. This was the first time his words actually upset you, did you do to much? You thought you looked pretty..

You slowly crept into his office, looking around. It was bare, but it looked comfy ish. He had a nice fuzzy blanket in the corner chair. His desk was front and center with a wooden chair in front of it. Maybe you were looking for a little too long..

“Are you just going to stare at the chair or are you going to sit in it?” His usually demeaning words, he made you feel more stupid than you already did.

“Sorry.” You mumble, siting in the chair before you, your eyes look directly at his, eyelashes batting in his face. Almost felt like a brag.

“Your staying until 9 know since you decided it was okay to be late.” he bowed his head in disappointment as he typed on his computer for what felt like hours.

“Get your text book out and turn to page 132” he demanded, and you did exactly that. The first time in forever you’re accurately following instructions

You stay quiet and still while he types away, your textbook wide open and your phone next to it. Sometimes you found yourself basking in his features. His dyed blonde hair, his piercing blue eyes, his lips, his muscles… god his muscles.

“You’re staring.” Professor Kennedy breaks the silence as you flinch, turning to look at other rather boring things in his room. You could’ve sworn you saw him smile a little.

He actually wasn’t a bad teacher. He guided you through the text book chapters, and adjusted to your learning pace. He knew it would take a while for you to grasp onto the concept of psychology, but for the first time in a while he was willing to wait.

These study sessions helped a whole bunch, somehow with a brain capacity like yours you were actually learning some new concepts. You were finally able to say that you’ve learned something here. Your grades went up to high B’s and periodically low A’s which was a stretch from the beginning of the year. Just a little more studying and.. what?

You failed the chapter 7 test. Now, from the normal point of view you’d be confused, baffled even. How did you bomb a test when you were doing amazing in the class course? But in your point of view, you needed this, this had to be done.

You purposely flunked that test without a care in the world.

Why? Because you’ve noticed he became more distant the more you began to grasp onto psycology, the more you understood it. The tutoring sessions went from four days a week to only once or twice a week for an hour. That wasn’t enough time at all. He even gave you the opportunity to sit next to Miguel again but you didn’t. Why? Because you needed to be front and center. The first thing he sees when he looks around. You wanted to be the only thing on his mind and it’s not fair that he’s not getting the hint.

Why is this happening to you? You were always front and center, the first thought on everyone’s mind. You were practically a god at getting the male gaze and he didn’t bat and eye at you. Is it his wife? He already expressed the discontent in the relationship to his colleagues on the phone. He must’ve thought you weren’t listening.

This isn’t fair at all.

But at least he emailed you last night, you smiled so wide when his notiftication popped up on your phone, and even wider at what he wrote.

Sunday 6:30pm lecture room. Don’t be late. Professor Leon Scott Kennedy

You honestly didn’t think he’d care, and he probably noticed something was fishy because of the ratio from your test to your average grade. It was nearly impossible but you didn’t care, at all. You needed an excuse to see him and that plan fell right into your lap.

you eagerly waited for Sunday to come, it was only two days away but you didn’t have his class for the rest of the week. It felt like it’s been weeks since you’ve last seen him.

Sunday finally rolled around, and of course you had to doll yourself up. That signature sweet smile plasted on your full face, the dress that barely covered your ass. You’ve also grasped the concept of turning others on. Something that came natural to you but you wanted to crank the knob a little.

Your sandals clapped against the wood flooring as you approached his office door, before knocking on the door (knock, knock knock, knock). You were so excited that you instead brought ice cream today.

Leon reluctantly opens the door, to be met with you all dolled up, batting your stupidity long eyelashes in his face, and a ice cream cone in hand.

“Sit down, now.” This was different, or it felt different. Your heart actually dropped. Usually his tone made butterflies appear in your stomach, but he sounded genuinely pissed off.

“Yes sir.” Your words barely audible as you sat in the familiar wooden chair. You dress impossibly bunching up more, you take a light lick of your ice cream cone, as you watch him walk around to his side of the desk.

Leon would’ve usually sat in front of you, but no. He stood instead. His muscular arms on full display to you. He bunched up his sleeves but you were a mess already for this man. Your eyes couldn’t peer away from the veins that were prominently on display in his biceps. Only his voice could’ve broken you out of that trance like state.

“What the fuck is your problem.”

“Huh?” You look up in utter confusion, taking another lick of your icecream, a little dripping on to the side of your lip. His tongue pokes his cheek as he looks up at his office ceiling. Oh, he’s mad. Really mad.

“I tried so hard to be patient with you. So hard to give your dumb ass a chance. You were genuinely impressing me, growing on me even. Just for you to throw it all away.” His face inched closer to yours, you swallowed nothing out of pure fear. Professor Kennedy could practically hear your heart beating

“Professor Kennedy-“

“Oh, don’t you fucking call me that!” His voice impossibly louder than ever causing your eyes to widen and you to jult up in your seat. He decides to sit now and leans back, just for his eyes to narrow at you. He’s never looked better.

“Don’t act like I don’t know this game your playing. Prancing up in here with those stupid ass dresses, always something on your face, and seriously? Practically deep throating that ice cream cone in front of me? You’re not niave as you think you are.” His words shock you, you just liked looking pretty for him was that such a big deal?

“I don’t know what your saying.” You whisper, your doe eyes only growing bigger as you stick your tongue out, taking another drag of the ice cream.

“If you wanted to fuck your professor, you should’ve just asked. You look pathetic” Ouch. Now that one hurt, pathetic? You don’t even recall ever being called that.

“I don’t want to fuck you—“

“Oh, sure you do sweetheart. You’re telling me if I offered, you wouldn’t agree?” He caught you, he did. This was embarrassing being put on spot like this. Pouting as you look away from him. He’s mocking you, and your not going to fall for it.

“Sir, I’m not a slut. Plus, you have a wife.” You reminded him like he somehow forgot. He scoffed as he sat in his chair, looking at you face to face you.

“Come here” he demanded, his demeanor not faltering as your eyes widen, and your body stiffens up.

“Excuse me?”

“Do you have a hearing problem? I said come here.” You did just that, slowly standing up in confusion as you walk to the side of him

His computer was ahead of him, he pulled up a different tab before spreading his legs before him,

“Sit.”

You heard that wrong, you must’ve. He didn’t— He pat his thigh, his glare looking meaner every second as you finally speak up.

“I- I can’t.. Your my teacher and—“

“Am I asking you to take off my pants and suck? No, I said sit.” You reluctantly sit on his lap, awkwardly as you looked at the laptop before you.

“Yeah, you see that? That’s your score. A fucking fifty-four. Do you know how badly that’s going to affect your average for my class?” This felt too degrading, you were somewhat disappointed in yourself.

“Why did you fail my test on purpose?” Its over, he hates you. He fucking hates you more than he already did.

“I- I didn’t.” You stutter through your lie as he spanks you thigh, causing you to jult forward as his hands come in contact with your hips.

“Fine! You started seeing me less.. I just wanted to see you more, and I knew If I passed the test that the tutoring would stop.” You’ve never felt so ashamed before, he shakes his head in disbelief as you fiddle with your fingers nervously

“How sad, you flunked your test for extra time with your professor..” He mocked, grabbing a hold of the back of you neck, causing you to yelp as his lips met the shell of your ear

“You’re going to get what you wanted, baby. But, your retaking this test as well.” And with that he grabbed a hold of your hips, forcing you to face him on his lap as your hands met his shoulders, startled.

“Wait— I can’t this is morally wrong. You have a wife..”

“You didn’t care when you bent over with those short ass skirts, you didn’t care when you ‘accidently’ brushed my leg with your foot.. don’t try to sell me that bullshit now.”

It was all too much, never in a million years would you have thought this would happen. You’re sitting on top of your wish, and it’s getting harder beneath you.

“What if we get caught?” You mumbled, eyes faltering away from his in shame.

“Don’t be loud and we won’t” Without warning, his soft pink lips met yours. You were in shock but you finally kissed back. Your eyes closing in the process as your arms wrapped around his neck.

The kiss only got deeper as his hands went from your hips, onto your bare ass. Rubbing it soothingly before spanking it causing you to interrupt the kiss with a whimper against his lips. He forced his lips back onto yours as his tongue begged for an entrance, which you granted.

Your tongues faught for dominance before his would win the battle, taking over you as his hands crept below your dress and only your lower back. You shivered above him as you broke the kiss.

“We can’t do anything else.” You confessed in a daze, the thought of him cheating on someone for you had you feeling too responsible for the outcome. His forehead met yours as he whispered,

“Just a few kisses, I promise.”

Your niave self believed him as your lips met again, before they would finally travel to your neck, subtly biting and kissing causing you to whimper out,

“Just kisses.” You reminded him as he nodded, before sucking on the spot just below your jawline, your hands met his chest as you clawed at his suits vest. He finally decided to grab a hold of your hips before placing your back against his chest, your sandals propped on his knees as the laptop faced you now, and the image of your spread legs.

Your dress now settled on your hips, showing your frilly white panties that are drenched in your arousal, causing you to grow embarrassed and try to remove yourself off of him. This annoyed him as his much bigger hands forced you back down on his lap.

“You promised just kisses!” You whined out as he snickered below you, before whispering,

“Yeah, my fingers wanna give your cute little pussy some kisses too.” This startled you as his hands crept below your panties, forcing them to the side of your lip as he rubbed your clit, causing your legs to grow weak as he picked up the pace.

“These are not kisses!” You whine out, a moan following shortly behind you. The office door was still wide open, if anyone walked into the lecture theater they’d smell the aroma of sex, and they most definely hear your sweet little noises.

He finally scooted his chair closer to the laptop, before speaking up “Begin, sweetheart. Go ahead and take your test.” You shook your head defiantly, you couldn’t even think straight and he wants you to take a fucking thirty question test right now?

“I can’t—hmph!!” You stumble out, before letting out the most pornstar like moan. He forced his fingers inside of you, the same fingers his wedding band sat on. It hurt, a lot. He smiled as he saw little streaks of blood on his fingers

“A slutty virgin, I never thought I’d see this sight.” He chuckled as your head flung bag, earning a tsk from him.

“Nu -uh, doll. You have a test to take. We can do this all night.” His fingers slipped inside you like a symphony, your gummy walls trying to squeeze him out as he forced his way through

His hand crawled from your hip to his laptop as he prest ‘begin test’ the test was on a time limit, 45 minutes. There was no way you were finishing at all. Your eyes met the screen as your fingers clawed into his biceps, trying to slow down his relentless pace.

The pain was far long gone and your brain was mush. You weren’t going to be able to even think properly so why was he making you take the test now?

“Section one, vocabulary. Sleep and mediation are examples of what?” His tone far more happier than ever, he’s never acted like this in your near 5 months of knowing eachother.

He’s starting off easy and you couldn’t even open your mouth, your ears were ringing, fuck you were so close. “Professor Kenn- hmphh!!” That’s it, he found the spot you never knew existed. The spot that made your legs spasm uncontrollably and you pussy pulsate. You were so close you could feel it

“Right there! Oh.. Professor Kennedy!”

“Shhh, baby, you don’t want an audience, or do you? Answer the question.” He demanded, looking at the beautiful sight before him, 18 year old hottie pratically loosing the few brain cells she had stored up in her head, going dumb on his fingers. He wondered how you’d react on his dick next.

“I can’t- I.. I feel weird..” You confessed, it’s never felt this way before. Sure, you’ve touched yourself a handful of times, even to him. But you’ve never came from penetration, the feeling is so much more different and harsh. Your stomach had this forever feeling of it sinking, and your extremities just felt hot, and stuffed up.

“I’m- I’m gonna cum!” Your eyes began to roll back and within a second of hearing that, he pulled his fingers out and that beautiful feeling left your body, and your soul. “No.. no no! Professor Kennedy why-“ he stuffed your talkative mouth full of his fingers, you felt his wedding band on your tongue, making you mouth taste metallic like.

“I don’t want my baby cumming until she answers the questions, does she get that?” He’s speaking to you like he has to break down the simplest of words. Technically, in your state of mind he did.

All you did was nod as your tongue swirled on his fingers, before your teeth came in contact with his wedding band as you open your mouth, your teeth removing the wedding band as you place it on the table. He practically moans beneath you as he grabs a hold of you thighs

“You so dirty, baby.” He places you on your back, right beside his computer before bunching up your dress. You whined beneath him as your hands struggle to reach his chest, just wanting to feel on him. So much for just a few kisses. He had you right where he wanted you.

“You gonna take you first dick like a good girl, huh? I bet you are.” His words felt like drugs coursing through your body, making you clench around nothing as he practically ripped your panties off.

“Mhm, I promise.” You’re saying that now, until he unbuckles his trousers and pulls down his boxers that make you rethink your very decision. God, it was big, too big. His tip was irritated, looked bruised almost. With vigorous precum spilling from it as he pumped his dick, warming it up.

“I’ll take it slow since it’s your first time, sweetheart.” Is this a joke? You were struggling taking his fingers. There’s no way he thinks that’s going to fit.

He shifts his laptop to face your face, you turn your head sideways to look at the laptop as you whine. You shouldn’t be doing school work while getting fucked for the first time.

He slapped his tip into your exposed clit, earning a flinch from you.

“Please- sir..” you just loved that name didn’t you. “I have to teach you some patience as well, don’t I?” He snickered as he slowly attempted to slide himself it, you were squeezing from the pain causing him to grunt in response.

“Relax baby, you’re going to love it. Fuck… just relax.” His eyes were slowing shutting as his dick slid into you, with a struggle before he finally bottomed you out.

“No- no. Its to big I can’t take it.” You whined out as you struggled against him, his hands met the back of your knees as he pushed them against your chest, creating a easier and way deeper angle

“Oh- oh god!” You cried out as he began to thrust into your warm cunt, his chest heaved against yours as he fucked himself relentlessly into you, only picking up the pace.

It definitely hurt, but that pain would soon shift into probably the best pleasure you’ve ever got to experience. Not even your pink bullet vibrator could bring you to this euphoria.

“God! God! D— sir I can’t .. I nmphhh!!!” You practically screamed as the desk creaked below you, your test long forgotten about as he kissed your neck, trailing up to your ear as you whisper

“How many time did you dream about this—shit.. how many times— Jesus Christ.. did you touch yourself to me, baby? We both know you did, ohh… fuck..” He would periodically break out into a groan and his pace only quickened, your mind was in another dimension, all you could feel was your pussy being filled and pulsating, and your stomach filled with butterflies.

You were long gone, you ears doing much more than ringing, “going stupid on my cock, huh? Pretty girl probably can’t tell what I’m saying can’t she.” And all you could do was shake your head and moan like a bitch in heat.

“God you look so beautiful, getting fucked dumb next to my wedding ring. How slutty can you get?” His pace was quickening almost sending you over the edge, his tip hitting your crevix as you cried out hoping something could answer your prayer of pleasure and allow you to cum.

Leon grabbed his ring, putting it on his finger as he rubbed your starved clit with it, using it as a stimuli. Before shifting his hips to hit that perfect spot within you, that spot that makes your vision splotchy and you legs shake.

“God- Daddy I’m gonna cum! Please don’t stop! Please please please!” His pace only quickened as the rope in your stomach snapped, causing you to practically scream, which was hushed by his hand as you came on his cock.

“That’s a new name. What happened to professor, baby?” You can’t talk anymore, there’s tears building up in your eyes from the overstimulation and he seems to be getting impossibly faster. The room was filled with his balls slapping against your ass, and the squelch your wet pussy makes every time his tip hits your gummy spot.

“I didn’t tell you that you could cum, but it’s your first time so I know you can’t handle it.” He mocked as he picked you up, sitting you on his lap. You fell like a ragdoll onto him, your head on his shoulder, your arms wrapping around back as he grabbed your ass and used his legs as leverage to bonce you on his cock.

Just this action alone made you spasm uncontrollably and cry out, your cunt vibrating against him had even him seeing stars as he quicken his pace. His office chair squeaking below him, his phone buzzing couldn’t be heard over his heavy breathing and your cries

“Fuck- baby where do you want my cum.” He asked, fucking into you like a sex machine, cranking up his speed by ten as he abused your pussy.

“Inside! Nghhh I’m gonna cum again!”

“You wanna get stuffed full of my cum? Have it leak out of you pretty girl? Say it” his words alone could send you over the edge, and they did

“I need it so bad- fuck daddy I’m cumming!!” The overstimulation was too much, everything was too much. You practically saw the gates to heaven as you squirted on him, this action alone made his dick twitch as he came inside you, his hips spasming causing him to thrust inside you as him came, he gripped onto you for dear life before the orgasm washed over the both of you.

“‘M sorry, ‘m so sorry.. I didn’t mean to.” You practically slurred out of exhaustion. All he could do was breathlessly laugh.

“Don’t apologize sweetheart, it was adorable.”

You sat there, in utter silence just in the embrace of one another. His hand met your hair, combing through it as he kissed your forehead. Your head lied on his shoulder, feeling his cum drip from you onto his cock. This was the softest he ever acted towards you.

“You said just a few kisses.” You mumbled tiredly, looking up at him as he laughed to himself.

“That was just a few kisses, sweetheart.” He said as he pulled out, causing you to whine from the sudden loss and a whine to escape your lips.

“You still never answered the question, baby.” He mumbled against your forehead, as you both sat still, recovering from the bliss you two shared.

“Oh, shush.”

[guiltyasreid]

so high school l spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings/tags: non, fluff, fem!reader, there's one use of 'lady' but other than that its gn, bau!reader (kinda) qord count: 1625 a/n: i legit cannot stop listening to so high school by ts so this is what my brain has pooped out, i've written two based on ttpd but I'm not happy with the other one yet. lmk what you think :))))

Sometimes when you looked at Spencer Reid, you thought how did this man ever look twice at you. How did he ask you of all people out on a date? Everytime he looked at you, you felt as though you were in some k drama and the blossom trees were going to start shedding their petals, as you wandered down the street hand in hand, music would start playing as he gazed at you with those honey brown eyes.

Of course that never happened, it didn't stop you from going red every time he looked at you. He made you feel like you had a schoolgirl crush on him. Blushing, giggling, kicking your feet and talking to your friends about him. Making up code names so he'd never know you were talking about him. Letting them know every small thing he did because he made your heart stop.

It could be him holding the door for you as you walked into the bullpen, or holding out a hand for you as you both stepped off the jet, or how he'd let you lean on his shoulder on the jet while you slept, his hands running through your hair, not caring if anyone was watching him or seeing the interaction, it always made them smile.

He felt like Prince Charming to your Cinderella.

You weren't always so infatuated by him that it caused your brain to break. Most of the time, being with him felt like a breath of fresh air. A calm would come over you where you both could sit in each others arms while doing your own thing.

Then there were times like these.

It was a small abrupt gathering, JJ had already walked down the aisle. Everyone was mingling, drinks were pouring. Penelope had caught your arm before you could make your way inside. "I want a dance."

Who were you to ever deny Penelope?

You both span in obnoxious circles, laughing with your head thrown back as you twirled her out and pulled her back in. Both of you swayed to the lighter music together. "187 is looking at you as if you placed the moon in the sky." She whispered.

Your head turned to look in Spencer's direction. His eyes were soft trailing up you as you swayed. He was in a conversation with Derek but his eyes weren't moving from you. Finally, he landed on your eyes and you looked away red, hiding your face from him.

"You both make me jealous." Penelope giggled. "Why are you blushing? He's already your boyfriend."

"I don't know." You whispered back as if you were telling her a secret. She shook her head smiling. "He's so handsome, I can't help it."

"And you are gorgeous, don't you forget it." She raised an eyebrow at you, you nodded. "Now I won't apologise. Just letting you know." Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

Suddenly, the women twirled you out, letting go of your hand, and causing you to stumble into familiar arms. "Caught you." He whispered causing you to let out a laugh.

"Thank you." You weren't meeting his eyes as you both swayed. His right hand was placed at your waist, pulling you flush against him. You placed your forehead against his shoulder, giggling under the twinkling lights.

"What's so funny?" He asked, tilting his head down to nudge yours. You shook your head, not wanting to meet his eye.

His hand slid from the side of your waist to your back, causing you to squeak. His hand that was holding yours, started entwining your fingers together. "You look beautiful." He mumbled into your hair.

"You do too." You whispered back, your arm pulling him closer, you looked up at him, seeing him staring down at you. "Dr Reid, don't look at me like that." You laughed, leaning back down to hide your face as it grew warm.

"How could I not? You're my pretty lady" He kissed the side of your head. "And that dress looks magnificent on you." He whispered. You roll your eyes, laughing as he twirls you out and pulls you flush again.

Finally, you were looking at him, wide smiled at his antics. "You've bewitched me, every time I look at you, I turn to mush."

"You do?" He asked raising an eyebrow. "What do you think you do to me? I've never felt speechless before I met you. My brain stops running, you're my kryptonite." You kissed his cheek at the comment. "Would you like to go home?"

You looked around the room, the party seemed to be finally dying down, Henry was already asleep over two chairs. Hotch was holding a sleeping Jack in his arms, he was saying his goodbyes. You nodded at Spencer who smiled.

Goodbyes didn't take long. Spencer didn't hesitate to grab your hand as you walked towards his car. You shivered at the cold. He opened the car door for you before rushing around to the driver's seat. You blushed again at the small gesture. He smiled at your flushed face as he entered the car.

Spencer Reid was the epitome of a walking daydream.

You'd lay your head in his lap as you watched an episode of Doctor Who, he played with your hair absently. "What you thinking about?" He'd ask.

"About how we met." You replied.

"And how did we meet?" He asked with a small smile.

"Mr Eidetic memory doesn't remember?" You asked sarcastically and he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

"Jog my memory." He whispered.

"Well it was my first day-"

"Thursday June 6th 2007" He added. You scowled at him.

"Am I telling the story or you?" You asked huffing and he chuckled before becoming quiet to continue. "Anyway, it was my first day...

You stood outside the lift, biting your lip anxiously. The BAU, it was a bigger promotion than you were imagining when they said you'd be promoted. Of course, you had the qualifications for it, you knew you deserved it but there was still the small part of your brain that was telling you that you were in the wrong place.

As you entered the lift and clicked 6 the doors started shutting only for an arm to stop them before they fully shut. It caused a slight bang, in entered Dr Spencer Reid who was red-faced, hair nearly up to his shoulders. He saw your face going more red.

He was dressed in a white button up shirt, a brown vest, and a tie to match. Black slacks that when he turned you forced yourself not to check him out.

"You definitely checked me out." He cut off your story. "No way you didn't take a peak at my ass." You rolled your eyes smacking his arm. "Okay go on."

You definitely took a peak but you forced yourself to stare at the back of his head instead. His hair was curly and honey coloured as if he'd gotten highlights, but you could tell it was natural.

Hotch introduced you to everyone quickly. Spencer continued to pretend you did not exist throughout the entire case, you were 100% sure he hated you for some reason, maybe it was the cheeky peak at his ass. Maybe, he had eyes at the back of his head in that lift and saw you being a pervert.

"Okay, let me tell you what actually happened, because you are definitely telling it wrong." You laughed at his offence at what you were saying.

Spencer stopped the lift before it could close fully, he was red in the face from the embarrassing noise the lift made. It only got worse when he saw you in the lift. You looked like you'd just witnessed a comedy show.

"I did not, I'm pretty sure I was too anxious to laugh at you." You scoffed at his lies. He shushed you to continue.

He only caught a glimpse of you as he turned into the lift, he could tell you were beautiful, his heart was raising from that little interaction and it was as if he could feel your gaze on him which made the entire interaction even more embarrassing.

Hotch introduced you into the team. He knew if he tried to speak to you it would probably sound like a bunch of word vomit. You were magnificent, it was as if every time you looked at him every cell in his body stood in anticipation waiting for your next move. The subconscious part of his mind thought you were thinking about how embarrassing it was in the lift.

You were brilliant, smart, talented, a mean shot with a gun, they had their own sniper if needed, and you thought in ways no one did. You were a breath of fresh air onto the team, not to mention your smiles and silly jokes you'd make to try to get a reaction out of him. Derek would flirt with you and you always insulted him back which made him extremely nervous to even try.

Then, you started complimenting his outfits, listening to him intensely, never telling him to stop talking. You'd find his jokes funny, throwing your head back as if they were the funniest thing you'd ever heard. You even brought him of coffee just how he liked it. He knew if he asked, it could ruin everything. You could destroy him in one word. But, you didn't, you jumped at the opportunity to go on a date with him.

"You know I waited for months." You rolled your eyes. he was looking down at you with fond eyes. "Took your sweet time."

"Well I've got you now, and I'm not letting you go." He smiled, leaning down to kiss your lips.

"Neither am I." You giggled, leaning up to deepen the kiss.

[sjsmith56]

Snowfall, Part 3 - Profile

Summary: Bucky learns more about what Leia is facing, including that the FBI has been brought in. Agreeing to be her bodyguard he moves into her apartment.

Length: 5.6 K

Characters: Bucky, Leia, Pepper, Happy, FBI agent (named).

Warnings: Minors DNI - contains sexual content which may be unsuitable for those under the age of 18, revelation of past trauma, acknowledgement of continuing PTSD issues, disturbing referral to possible identity of stalker.

Author notes: This chapter is peeling back the layers of defence both Leia and Bucky have, revealing past traumas and PTSD issues.

<<Part 2

The following morning saw them sleep in, understandable considering what they did most of the night. Bucky wakened first, watching Leia sleep for a while, until he got up and showered, trimmed his beard, then dressed. Heading to her kitchen, he started up the coffee, then searched her fridge and cupboards for ingredients to make breakfast. Hearing sounds in the bedroom, he went to the door and knocked on it, receiving an invitation to enter. Leia was under the rumpled duvet, awake but in no hurry to get up.

"I wondered where you were," she murmured, as he sat next to her and leaned over to kiss her.

"Making some breakfast," he replied. "I need calories after last night."

"Me too," she purred, stretching. "I've never done that before." He looked at her questioningly. "Be with a man I barely know, yet I feel like I know you so well."

"I feel the same," he smiled. "Even though it's only been a few days, I can't stop thinking about you. My therapist would chew me out for letting an infatuation take over my decision making. That's probably how she would describe it."

"You see a therapist?" There was no judgement in her voice; rather a sense of wanting to understand him more.

He nodded. "For PTSD. I had a different one when I was first pardoned, and we did not mesh well. The one I have now is much more understanding, but I think jumping into a relationship would test that."

"I saw one when I was a kid then again after I split up with my husband," explained Leia. "It was a nasty split that really drew a dividing line in town. There were those who said I should forgive and forget, while others wanted him prosecuted." Bucky waited for more explanation. "He was also a teacher and got involved with a student, who was almost 18. They did charge him with sexual interference with a minor but the moment our divorce was finalized he married her. She wouldn't testify against him, and they stayed the charges. I took back my maiden name to distance myself from him completely."

She drew the bedclothes tighter around her, curling up on her side a little; obviously still affected by the betrayal but not wanting to open up about it, at least not yet. Bucky climbed over her and laid behind her, draping his arm over her mid-section, as he kissed her shoulder. They laid like that for a while, not talking, just existing in the quiet of the moment. She suddenly rolled over, throwing her arm around his shoulder, and burying her face in his neck.

"You smell so good," she murmured. "It's familiar to me and I don't know why."

"I know what you mean. There is a multiverse where our counterparts are supposed to exist." He searched her face. "Perhaps we're together in another universe and the connection is so strong that we feel it here. It's as if we're ...."

"Don't say soulmates," she interrupted. "Say, kindred souls, or heart's desire, instead. Soulmate is so ... Twilight."

He laughed, kissing her affectionately. "Okay, I can do that." He could wake up next to her every morning. "How do you like your eggs?"

"Soft boiled with soldiers," she answered, which made him smile, "but don't go to too much trouble. I'll take whatever you give me."

"Take your time getting ready." He kissed her and slid out the other side of the bed. "By the way, you snore. It's very cute."

She grabbed the loose pillow and threw it at him, laughing. Dodging it, he picked it up and tossed it onto the end of the bed, leaving her to get ready. By the time she came out dressed for the day, he had two soft boiled eggs ready for her, along with toast cut into strips, coffee and a fruit salad made of bananas, strawberries, and blueberries. For himself he had bacon, eggs, and toast. He poured coffee for each of them, then sat down next to her. Putting his arm around her, he kissed her on the side of the head then returned to his meal, both attacking the food readily.

"Thank you," she murmured, after her first bite. "This is wonderful."

He acknowledged it as they ate some more, then he sipped his coffee, not wanting to speak with his mouth full.

"I'll have to pick up more of my clothing," he said, "as well as my cat."

Her face lit up. "You have a cat? What's its name?"

"Alpine," he answered. "She's about a year old, white with blue eyes, and likely deaf. I say likely because it seems like sometimes she can hear me but chooses not to listen." He drank more of his coffee. "Do you think your driver will take us over and bring us back? I don't want to walk around with luggage and the cat supplies. I, uh, also have to go to my storage locker and pick up a weapon or two."

She stopped eating, putting her utensils down on the table. It became very quiet between them as only the sound of her breathing could be heard. The stress in her voice when she did speak was noticeable.

"Is that necessary?"

"I would rather have them than not," he answered, puzzled by her response. "I'm licensed for concealed carry. It would probably be a good idea to teach you to fire a weapon. We can go to a firing range for that."

"No."

"Sweetheart ...."

"No. I won't fire a gun."

"Leia ...."

She stood up and walked away from him, retreating into the living room area, and looking out the window with her arms crossed as if she was hugging herself. By the time Bucky got there, he realized she was crying, and he pulled his handkerchief out for her to use. She looked at it for a moment, then took it and wiped her eyes.

"My little brother was only five years old," she said. "He was so sweet but a pest, loved playing tricks on his big sister." She wavered and Bucky put his hand out to her, but she pushed it away. "My dad had a handgun, and he would let Mikey watch him practice shooting targets. He was supposed to keep it in a locked safe but that day he put it in the nightstand drawer because he needed to get cigarettes. Mom was working. I was writing a story in the kitchen when he left and had just finished when I heard the gun go off."

She sank to the floor, weeping. This time she didn't push Bucky away as he sat with his legs on either side of her, wrapping his arms around her.

"You don't have to say anything," he murmured, realizing why she was upset about Edward mentioning her father. "I understand."

"I have to," she whispered. "I've only ever told my therapist since it happened." She took a shaky breath. "The bullet went into his abdomen. I called 911 right away and they were there within minutes, along with the police, because it was a shooting. I told them it was Dad's gun and that it should have been in the gun safe. Told them how he had stepped out for cigarettes and must have left it in the nightstand where Mikey found it. They sent a unit to find him and located his truck at his girlfriend's house. My dad was cheating on my mom. They asked him about his handgun, where he stored it. He admitted being in a hurry to get out of the house and leaving it in the nightstand. That's when they told him about Mikey. They arrested him and wouldn't let him come to the hospital. My brother died that night and so did any love I ever had for my dad. I was only 12. Mom divorced Dad and we moved to another small town to live with my grandparents. Mikey was cremated and Mom kept the ashes for a long time until I scattered his and her ashes together after she died. I kept writing as part of my therapy when I was a teenager to get over Mikey dying and my dad being a cheating bastard." She wiped her nose. "The next town was a nice place to grow up and I was happy there. Didn't miss my dad at all. He didn't even try to contact us. I met Jake in college, married him and he came back with me, then he cheated on me, just like my dad cheated on my mom. At least we didn't have any kids to find a handgun that was lying around."

"Hey, it's alright," said Bucky, still holding her close. "What happened to you is something that will always be with you. I'm glad you trusted me enough to share that with me." They sat quietly for a time. "I won't force you to use a gun, but I still need to have one. For me, they're a tool. I don't normally carry one or keep one in the apartment because I take gun safety seriously. But, to keep you safe, I'll need one and when I'm not wearing it, I will keep it in a locked gun safe. The other weapon that I use is a knife, kept in an ankle holster that holds two extra magazines for my gun." She stayed very still as he told her. "I'm telling you this upfront because I don't want there to be any secrets between us. I know how to use many weapons, but I don't make a habit of carrying any of them unless I'm on a job. To protect you, I have to have something ready to use. I'm not asking for permission, but I want you to understand why I need them."

She breathed heavily for a time, then slumped a little before turning towards him and leaning into his body. Gently, she touched his face with her fingertips, tracing his lips as he kissed them. Lowering his face closer to hers, he hovered over her lips, then barely touched them with his, feeling the whisper of her breath on his face. With a delicate touch, he kissed her, his lips open but his tongue still in his own mouth, waiting for permission to kiss her more intimately. When she pressed her tongue onto his, Bucky accepted it, allowing her the control. As she shifted to straddle his lap, he leaned back against the wall, then placed his hands at the hem of her top, before sliding them up underneath and splaying his hands around her midsection. Just as he was about to unhook her bra, his phone rang, making him hesitate. It stopped ringing and he continued running his hands up her back. The phone rang again, and she exhaled then shook her head, getting off his lap. Retrieving his phone from the kitchen table she handed it to him and went to the bedroom. He looked at the two missed calls, seeing they were from the same number.

"Barnes here," he said, after he redialed. "You were trying to phone me?"

"Burnham," said the man. "Can you two be ready to be picked up in 20 minutes?"

"Yeah, what's going on?"

"Another letter," he said. "We need Ms. Dunn to explain some of the references. We also need to meet about whether you're joining the team, so you can be read in on what we have."

"I'm in," replied Bucky. "We'll be downstairs waiting. Are you picking us up?"

"Yeah, it will be me. See you soon."

Pocketing his phone he went to the bedroom, expecting to see Leia lying down, but she was making the bed.

"They're picking us up in 20 minutes," he announced. "Another letter has arrived, and they also want to read me in on what they've learned so far." She didn't say anything. "Leia."

"I heard you," she answered a little coldly, putting the finishing touches on the bed.

She approached to go past him, but he put his hand out, taking her hand to stop her.

"Are we good?"

Looking up at him, she smiled wanly.

"You're asking after what we were doing on the floor?" A raised eyebrow was his response, and her face softened. "We're good. I'm sorry I got angry about the gun. Even though it's been almost 20 years since it happened, I still remember the smell of gunpowder in the room, mixed with the smell of his blood. I have PTSD too, but I understand you need to be ready for anything. I'll deal with it."

She hugged him quickly, then moved past him to clean up the breakfast dishes, accepting his help with them. They got down to the lobby seconds before Burnham arrived. On the ride to Manhattan, he watched the couple, noticing a change in their dynamic. Although there was still open affection between them, evident by how they held hands, he detected some tension. Hopefully, it wouldn't affect the assignment.

Their destination, an office in a Midtown building, was accessed by some high-level security that Bucky recognized as Stark technology. Leia was set up as a guest. His access was set up via several different methods, including a voice print, iris scan and retinal scan, redundant in the event security was ever breached.

Welcome Manchurian Candidate read the display on the security panel after the last part of Bucky's inputs, bringing a grunt out of him and a questioning look at Burnham. He shrugged.

"Apparently, Tony Stark had a profile already created for you to join the Avengers after the battle with Thanos. He assigned all code names; that was yours. It's still in the system." The door slid open. "We can change it if you want."

"No, it's fine. I watched the movie he got it from, and it was an apt description of what I once was."

Entering what was definitely a secure area they followed Burnham to a conference room with a display screen on one wall, where Pepper Stark, Happy Hogan, and two other men were waiting. They were introduced to Bucky as John DaSilva and Dan Schultz, the rest of Burnham's team.

"Well, I guess you need an explanation," said Pepper, speaking first. "One of the reasons we suggested Leia move to New York is that she began receiving disturbing letters from a stalker. They knew where she lived and worked and knew her real name as well as other details that a stranger wouldn't have known. We were hoping that relocating here under her pen name would make it harder for them to find her. We don't think Edward is the guy though. He doesn't fit most of the profile."

"You profiled her stalker? That's pretty serious, isn't it?" He realized something and looked at Burnham. "You're not private security."

"No, we're all active FBI agents but that doesn't leave this room." The older man looked at Leia. "Sorry, Ms. Dunn, but it was felt it would be better if we were behaving as private security and not agents on duty. Your relationship with Sergeant Barnes opened up some possibilities for this assignment which is why I agreed about seconding him to be part of the detail. With him being easily recognized, the stalker would likely think twice about making a move."

"I told you last night I'm in a relationship with her. That should disqualify me as a bodyguard."

"Normally, yes." Pepper looked at him earnestly. "But you are a professional, and there is already a level of trust between you that will work to your benefit. We'll arrange for a new apartment in a new neighbourhood for you two to share. What goes on inside of that apartment is your business, but we want to keep Leia safe. She doesn't deserve to be harassed the way she has been. Which brings us back to Edward Ruskin and the latest letter. Agent Burnham."

The agent placed his attention on Bucky. "You spotted Ruskin last night. He shouldn't have even made it in there. Even though he's basically harmless, he got close to her too easily and so could the stalker without us even knowing who he is."

"How did he get in?" asked Bucky. "How do you know for sure that he's not the stalker?"

"He follows Ms. Dunn's official social media that is curated by the publisher. They posted news of the event several weeks ago inviting retailers to come in and meet the newest and hottest authors to boost Christmas sales. He created a fake profile, but it got rejected as they at least did their due diligence there, but he showed up anyway and bribed a server to let him in through the wait staff entry. We compared his writing to the writing in the letters. The handwriting and his style of writing don't match. In the meantime, I think given the level of trust Ms. Dunn has with you, that you and she stay very close together. As Mrs. Stark just said, a new apartment can be arranged for you, with two bedrooms. It will be in a secure building. I will continue to be your driver if you need to go anywhere. You can use a food delivery service that we've vetted to get groceries or takeout."

"I already told you I don't want to be locked up like a bird in a cage," said Leia. "I'm a writer and I need the freedom to go out and observe life. Can't do that if I'm confined to that apartment on the tenth floor. Will this new one be even higher up, taking me even further away from life? Will you have people spying on me from other buildings?"

Bucky put his hand on hers, calming her. "We don't need to move. I know our neighbourhood well and now that I know more about Leia's security needs, I'm more than capable of keeping track of anyone who doesn't belong around her. If you want to be background surveillance, that's fine, but she should continue to live a normal life, going out, buying groceries, having coffee at the coffee shop, etc. To do otherwise isolates her and that can also put her in danger as the stalker might escalate to extreme measures to get to her. If he's really set on it, he'll still find a way to infiltrate where she is." He watched as the others considered his observations. "I would like some help in moving some clothes and my cat into Leia's apartment. Can't exactly walk through the streets of Brooklyn with luggage and a cat carrier without drawing attention."

"Yeah, I'll take you," said the FBI agent. "What about weapons?"

"I have my own, but I need to go to a storage locker for them. I have a licence for concealed carry."

"Well, that saves us having to apply for that on your behalf," remarked Burnham. "I'll provide you with a copy of the letters that have been received so far. We have another that was delivered yesterday but not sorted until last night. I'm not going to show the whole letter, Ms. Dunn, as there are some unsettling scenarios in it but there are two references which concern us, as it indicates a level of familiarity that confirms this person knows you, maybe not personally but they know far too much about you for it to be a coincidence." He opened an iPad and brought up a document, then transferred it to the display screen. Five sentences, handwritten and isolated from two separate sections appeared.

Did you really mourn Mikey? Or was he just another brother you didn't really love and were so eager to abandon?

20 years is a long time to pretend he meant something. He didn't even rate a story in your precious book. None of us did.

Leia gasped, placing her hand over her mouth as she looked at Bucky. He placed his arm around her then glanced at Burnham, wondering about coincidences.

"He's referring to my younger brother." Her voice faltered. "He died almost 20 years ago, after playing with my father's handgun. I wrote about him in therapy for my PTSD, as I'm the one who was home when he was shot. My dad had run out for cigarettes but was really with his mistress."

"That has to be related to the appearance of the letters," said Burnham. "Twenty-year anniversary of your brother's death. What's the exact date?"

"January 2, 2005. One month from now is the anniversary." She shook her head. "Why would he say another pesky brother? I only had one brother, Mikey. He was a pest, always playing tricks on me but I loved him. We always laughed." Her face broke. "Did my dad have a child with his girlfriend?"

"We'll check that out. The shooting and the death of your brother was investigated by police, wasn't it?" She nodded. "We'll get the official file on that."

"The shooting didn't happen in the town she was living in most recently," added Bucky. "You've been looking for someone who once lived or currently lives there. She moved there with her mother after Mikey's death and the divorce from her father. Ruskin mentioned her father as well, so how did he know?"

Burnham's grim face said it all; they were starting back at square one.

"We have to redo the profile," he announced. "Ms. Dunn, we'll need your help verifying the information on that file." He turned to Happy. "Mr. Hogan, would you be able to drive Sergeant Barnes to his apartment to pick up what he needs? We will keep Ms. Dunn here until he's settled at the other apartment. We'll bring her back then." He spread his hands apart, for emphasis. "We'll figure this out."

With the meeting over, the three agents went to acquire a digital copy of the file and prepare to interview Leia about her recollections of her younger brother's death. Before she went with them Bucky held her, then kissed her on top of her head. Pepper waited while Happy went to get his vehicle.

"Leia, I'll stay here with you, but I just want a word with Bucky before he goes," said Pepper. After Leia left, she turned to Bucky. "Is everything alright between you two?"

"It's a little tense as she's uncomfortable around firearms," he said. "Understandably. What did you need to see me about?"

She sighed. "I don't like intruding on people's private lives but what's happened to you?"

"I don't know what you mean." He looked away.

"Yes, you do. You won't even make eye contact with me. Tony would try to baffle me with his bullshit when I asked him uncomfortable questions whereas you detach yourself by looking away or ignoring questions." He huffed a little but impassively looked at her, waiting to be scolded. "Heaven help me from big strong men with PTSD that don't like appearing weak. Bucky, you're a millionaire but you live in a tiny one-bedroom flat. You own one suit, numerous jeans, and T-shirts, barely any furniture, and you're floundering. You rarely stay in contact with Sam and the rest of us seem to be relegated to being ignored. What happened after the Flag Smashers? We all thought you had purpose after that."

He should have been angry at Pepper knowing private details of his life, but she was right; having described him so succinctly. Running his hand through his hair, then squeezing the back of his neck to relieve the tension he felt, he breathed out.

"I thought I could build a new life in Delacroix, but it felt like I was being too dependent on Sam and his family to make me feel good. I came back to Brooklyn to give my notice to the landlord, but I just couldn't do it. It didn't feel right; it felt like running away, so I stayed. Sam's been busy lobbying and recruiting new Avengers. I'm still not comfortable dealing with people." She looked at him in disbelief. "Maybe I have floundered. I admit to feeling alone and lonely, but I wanted to deal with it myself and prove that I could manage." He looked to the door where Leia had left. "Then I met her, and, in just a few days, I feel like I used to, before the war." He shook his head. "She told me about her brother this morning after I mentioned teaching her to fire a gun. We dealt with it. She's not happy about me carrying one but she knows that I need it to protect her."

"So, you're still okay with taking the job, being with her 24/7 until the FBI find out who is stalking her."

"I'll do it because I care about her," he said. "I can compartmentalize the emotional relationship from the professional one. You don't have to pay me. I don't want the money. Donate it to a veteran's charity if you're required by law to compensate me. But don't keep me in the dark about anything that happens."

"Alright." She looked sharply at him. "Are you still in therapy? From what I heard that Dr. Raynor was a real piece of work but she's who the army wanted. I think they harboured a few fantasies about getting you back into a special forces' unit and she was there to prepare you to be a soldier again."

"Instead of the Avengers, like Tony planned?" A flicker of hurt passed across her face. "Sorry. I only found out when Burnham set me up to get inside here and the computer welcomed me as the Manchurian Candidate. It's what he called me before the shit hit the fan in Siberia. It was a pretty accurate description."

She came closer, sitting on the edge of the conference table.

"He struggled after Siberia. He had already been proven wrong when he realized Zemo set you up, then when he found out the Winter Soldier killed his parents it was like everything he believed in was laid to waste. He did a deep dive into the files, including quite a few film and video clips of your treatment. I don't know if he would have ever forgiven you on an emotional level, but intellectually he understood that the real enemy was HYDRA and everyone who kept you in bondage to them. He wanted you to have purpose, and a means to be of service to humanity by offering you a place with the Avengers, working alongside Steve." She smiled sadly. "Then he died, Steve went back to the 1940s and I mourned. I did what I was capable of at the time, which was providing those files for your defence and paying for your lawyer. I could have done more to make you aware that I would support you and I'm sorry I didn't. You must have felt so alone at times... still do, I think."

Breathing out, Bucky looked at the floor, then at her.

"What is tolerance? It is the consequence of humanity. We are all formed of frailty and error; let us pardon reciprocally each other's folly - that is the first law of nature." She seemed uncertain with his words. "Voltaire said that. Much of my isolation was self-imposed as I still really haven't pardoned myself. But that's my cross to bear and I'm still working on it. I do see a therapist, but I also read a lot of philosophy, and I try to practice self love. I'll get there, someday." He stood up and went to the door, then looked back at her. "How's that for a big strong man with PTSD? Vulnerability is hard for any man. It's not how we were raised, especially in my time. I'm still working on that as well."

With a slight smile, he was gone and Pepper Stark realized she had just been called out for thinking of Bucky and even Tony as stereotypical males. Bucky Barnes was an enigma. Tall, dark, and handsome, but also appearing stoic and brooding, he was smarter and deeper than he appeared. A man like that could do great things, things that mattered. It was more than serendipitous that he and Leia were involved in a relationship. If she were a more romantic type, Pepper would have called it fate that the two found each other.

⏳ ⌛️

It was getting dark outside, and it started to snow again.  Alpine watched the large snowflakes falling lazily past the 10th floor window of Leia's apartment, occasionally batting at one that came too close to the window.  Bucky, reading the FBI file on Leia, while he waited for her to return, looked up from time to time when he heard Alpine's paws hit the window.  This guy, and Bucky was sure it was a guy, was obsessed with her. His initial letters were a little strange, explaining how he learned about a beautiful author from a friend. Imagine his surprise when he saw Leia at the farmer’s market from a distance and recognized her as his childhood friend Mikey’s older sister. The sharp turn in the tone of the letters came as he expressed his disappointment that she didn’t recognize him whenever their eyes met. That’s when he began outlining his plan to bring her back to her roots, and show her that he was the right man for her. His words were disturbing, expressing a desire to subject her to his will, while taking care of her better than her ex-husband did. The most recent letter was obscene and Bucky was glad they didn’t show her those parts. So far, it seemed the stalker didn’t know where in the New York area she lived but he was looking. A message came through on Bucky’s cell phone and he put the file away in his bag, then unlocked the door to the apartment and walked to the elevator.  It opened to Leia and Agent Burnham, who casually saluted Bucky and pushed the down button, leaving her with him. 

"Sorry, we're so late," she said, as she stood in front of him in the hallway. "It took a while to go through the official file of my brother's death and the birth records with my father listed as the biological dad." She looked up at Bucky, her eyes haunted. "The stalker might be my half-sibling.” That was disturbing if the stalker knew that and harboured sexual fantasies about her. “My dad was an absolute bastard. He fathered at least three more children with three different women, other than my mother. I don't even know if she knew, and I can't ask her because she died of cancer two years ago."

Putting his arm around her shoulders, Bucky walked her back to the apartment. She brightened up when she saw Alpine, kneeling down and putting her hand out to the finicky feline, who decided to play nice and approached readily, rubbing against Leia's hand. After helping her off with her coat and giving her a quick shoulder massage while she sat at the table, Bucky pulled a casserole from the oven and a salad from the fridge. His actions almost brought Leia to the edge of tears, but she swallowed and smiled appreciatively at him instead, allowing herself to enjoy the meal. Later, when everything had been put away and cleaned up, he turned off most of the lights, put some music on, and sat with Leia on his lap and Alpine on hers. While the snow fell outside, they were quiet, not talking, just being in the moment; something they both needed after the day that started well, then took a left turn into uncharted territory.

Later, in the stillness of the bedroom, they resumed what was interrupted earlier in the day. They were hesitant at first; a tentative kiss was followed by Leia perched on his lap while the languid touch of a cool hand reached up under her T-shirt. Bucky's hands traced the contours of her breasts after she bared herself to him, before moving to her back, bringing her closer to him. Hungrily, he mouthed her breasts, swirling his tongue around the sensitive nipples while she pressed her body against his growing erection. When she seated herself fully on him, gasping at the intensity of it all, he soothed her, reminding her to breathe through it, remaining still for her to get used to his size. Watching her ride him, was like worshiping an idol at an altar. She was so beautiful, with her face raised to the heavens, and the way her hands fluttered over her own body then to his, grasping and kneading as the waves of pleasure rippled through her and into him and back again.

"We must be lovers in another universe," he thought at one point. "How are we doing this so instinctively?"

They just knew the parts of each other's body that was most sensitive and responsive, without words or gestures. It happened organically, as if they had been together for years instead of days. The moment of coming was transcendent, reinforcing his belief that despite everything, this convergence of the two of them was right and meant to be. He had his small flat, while she had this apartment, but home was them, inhabiting the same small space, breathing the same air, in a communion of mind, body and soul. It felt ... right.

Part 4>>

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[moriartyluver]

Pookieee can I request a fluff/comedic one shot where the Moriartys and reader (who is William’s wife and a noble) are at a party and she gets really drunk and while she’s drunk talking with Albert and Louis she sees William from far away, completely forgets that she’s married to him or that she even knows him and starts talking about how pretty, soft looking and drop-dead gorgeous he looks and then Albert teases her and tells her that he already has wife and she starts mumbling about how she would be a better wife for him and how his wife probably sucks and things like that

And then William finding out hehe

A/N: thank you for your request! I’m sorry it took so long for me to get to this but I hope I can do it justice. Also this was super fun to write so I hope you like it!!

Character(s): William James Moriarty x fem! Reader

Genre: fluff/comedy

Prompt: ^^

Format: oneshot

Warnings: a bit historically inaccurate sorry, reader is William’s wife + noblewoman, mentions of getting drunk, alcoholism etc.

IN HIGH SOCIETY there were two types of parties one would’ve expected to attend. The first would be the formal balls for social celebrations such as engagements or holidays. The second would be the type typically hosted by the younger members of the upper class and getting absolutely wasted there was not a surprise at all.

Today’s party was the second type. Of course, it wasn’t like the college parties that would be attended in a man’s youth. People here were still dignified, just rather tipsy. And you, we’re the most tipsy of them all.

Everyone was in high spirits so nobody cared too much for how ridiculously drunk they got and you were one of these people.

“Woah..who is that fine gentlemen?” You hicupped as you stood to the side whilst drinking with Albert who only encouraged your odd drinking habit that night. Louis was by your side to make sure you didn’t pass out or doing anything stupid, per your sober self’s request. Your eyes were a bit tired and everything was spiny and blurry but fun all the same and you had spotted the most beautiful individual you ever could have seen.

Louis looked at you with concern. We’re you checking another man out? Surely you’d had too much to drink and he didn’t want you doing anything he knew that you would regret.

Albert had spotted the blond man you were talking about. He was over to the side, looking completely sober whilst talking to a young man who he had assumed was one of his former students based on the way they were interacting despite being so close in age.

“The smiling blond one with red eyes?” Albert asked you. You nodded drowsily.

You fixated your eyes on him. If only you could get a closer look at him. Louis sighed a sigh of relief. You weren’t unfaithful but instead so infatuated with your husband that you somehow had forgotten you were married to him and acting as if he were out of your league.

“Isn’t he gorgeous?” You said aloud. “The way he looks sooo elegant and his hair is so pretty and yellow..it looks like butter.”

To your previous comment, Albert let out a chuckle as he sipped his wine. Your slurred attempt at being poetic was clearly not on part with your sober one.

“I wanna eat him-“

“BAHAHSGD” Albert laughed as he choked on his wine. Louis patted his back as Albert thanked him.

“Berty, do you know that elegant, pretty, beautiful, attractive man?” You asked, your eyelids droopy as if you were about to fall asleep

“Why? Would you like me to set you up with him?” Your brother in law asked with a mischievous smirk on his face.

You nodded again “Even speaking to him would be a treat. I can barely hear him right now but even then he sounds so heavenly. He’s..he’s like a..I don’t know but he’s so pretty and soft looking but he still is attractive in other respects allll the saaame”

Louis handed you a glass of water in an attempt to keep you at least half awake. Maybe you could sober up and not pass out whilst simping for his big brother.

“Oh, but (name), didn’t you know?” Albert teased

“What? Is he a murderer or something? That’s fine I don’t really care..he’s pretty and I can accept him for how he is-“

“No, he’s married.” Albert smiled whilst he watched you gushing expression shift to one of shock.

“hUH?!" you exclaim in your drunken state whilst Albert laughs harder. “I bet his wife isn’t all that good. She’s probably ugly and mean and stupid. I could do wayyy better.”

“From what I know, she’s actually incredibly intelligent and kindhearted,” Albert said as you fell to your knees while Louis tried to comfort you.

“Brother are you trying to destroy her spirits?” Louis frowned. Albert laughed again and whispered a half hearted apology.

“Yeah but I’m probably still prettier..!” You exclaimed in a sad attempt to defend yourself.

“Oh no..That gentleman always speaks of how beautiful his wife is. Every time he sees her his eyes go all lovesick. I’ve never seen a couple more in love” He said with a menacing glint in his emerald eyes.

You continued to sob on the marble floors, mascara dripping down your cheeks as Louis held out a napkin to you.

“Damn that wife..she’s ruining her chances. I’m gonna find her and give her a piece of my..myyy mindd-“ you stood up to go find this imaginary wife then immediately passed out from exhaustion. Thankfully your brother in laws caught you, Albert was amused whilst Louis was concerned for your health.

“Lightweight~” Albert sang as he helped your drooping body up.

The following morning, you awoke in your bed with a painful headache. You remembered the party last night but nothing past your mini drinking game with Albert. You turned to your side and saw the bed sheets on William’s side were messy. For a moment you worried that you somehow took someone else home. Until the door swung open.

From the other end of the room was William, holding a glass of water with a smile on his face.

“Good morning, my love.” He smiled, trying not to laugh as he recalled what Albert and Louis had told him the night before.

Despite being such a composed man, after placing the water on your nightstand and looking at your confused face, he burst out laughing. You repeatedly asked him why he was laughing until he finally explained what had happened last night. Pieces of your memories from that evening had started connecting until you finally understand and fell back on your bed in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry..I must’ve been rather intoxicated.” You said as you hid your face in your hands while William sat on the side of your bed.

He shook his head “I found it quite endearing…but what on earth did you mean when you said you wanted to eat me..?”

You looked at him stunned for a moment.

“Albert!!” You yelled whilst the man in question was laughing as he poured another glass of wine for himself.

[suugarbabe]

made for loving you | r.l. x reader

an: It's my birthday! & I had this cute little bitty one shot idea that I wanted to do about reader x remus after I heard the song I Was Made for Loving You by Kiss so I had to write it immediately. This is my first time writing marauders era so please be gentle

Warnings: mentions of drinking

word count: ~1.3k

It had been a few years since you had seen everyone, at least all together like you were going to tonight. The years after Hogwarts were very generous to you, and you couldn’t say you were mad about it. You gave another twirl in front of Lily and Marlene, the two coming over to help you pick out your outfit. You had settled on a black plaid skirt paired with a black form fitting turtleneck. The November air in London never being forgiving. 

“You look stunning, truly, y/n/n,” Lily was hyping you up but you couldn’t help the nerves that were bubbling inside. 

“You don’t think it’s too much for a pub?” Doubt written on your face. 

Marlene rolled her eyes, “It’s Sirius’s birthday. You could never wear an outfit that was ‘too much’ when celebrating that man. He’s probably going to go all out himself.” 

You laughed with her and Lilly as you pulled on some black sheer tights and slipped on your boots, “Well you would know best, wouldn’t you Mar?” You gave her a wink. 

Marlene couldn’t contain her smile, “I would know best, thank you very much. You would know more if you came around more often! I feel like we haven’t properly seen you in forever.” 

You pouted slightly, “I know, I’m so sorry. I’ve just been…adjusting to life after Hogwarts. Who’s all gonna be there tonight anyway?” You did you best to sound as nonchalant as possible, forgetting that the two girls in front of you had been your best friends for seven straight years. 

Lily wore a cheeky grin as she answered, “Oh just the old gang, me, Mar, Sirius obviously, James, Frank, Alice and…Remus.” Lily put a little extra emphasis on the last name and your body reacts before you could control it, cheeks flushing a bright red. 

You hum in response, “Oh, cool, perfect. That’ll be exciting to see everyone.” Marlene and Lily exchanged a look, causing you to shift on your feet, “What?”

Marlene rolled her eyes, “Oh nothing, just you trying to act like you’re not still infatuated with Moony boy.” Lily was giggling next to her as you pouted, crossing your arms. 

“Oh come on, y/n/n,” Lily whined, grabbing your hands, “You two have been pining after each other since literally forever, and now you look like a bloody goddess and he’s going to be there, and you know he’ll be too shy to say anything Merlin forbid do anything.” 

You shook your head, opening the door to your flat as the others followed you down the street towards the pub, “I mean yes I had a crush on him but he did not have a crush on me.” 

Marlene and Lilly both groaned. “We’re gonna get a few drinks in you and then you’re going to make a move and see how right we are,” Marlene hooked her arm through your elbow. 

“Yes and I’ll make sure James gets a couple into Remus so maybe he won’t be quite as shy,” Lily smiled, hooking her arm on your other side. 

You made a mental note to have a conversation with both of your friends about what the phrase “few” meant because multiple shots and mixed drinks were far more than a few. The boys were late, which was no surprise, but you were not wanting to be completely drunk before they got here. But presently you didn’t have it in you to be too upset as one of your favorite songs came on and you were dragging your two friends to the small dance floor in the pub. 

You could feel the guitar and drums in your veins as your hips swayed to the beat, you were having a lot more fun than you anticipated for tonight. You danced and sang the lyrics out loud with Marlene and Lily before one of them grabbed your shoulders and forced you to turn around. 

Your eyes locked onto a head of soft brown hair like you were tied to him. As they got their drinks the three boys started walking towards your group. James and Sirius went straight into dancing as Remus, of course, walked smoothly over. 

Maybe it was the amount of alcohol you had, or maybe it was Marlene and Lily’s voice in the back of your head but you had a sudden surge of confidence, pointing your finger right at Remus as you sang the next chorus to the song. 

“I was made for lovin’ you, baby. You were made for lovin’ me” 

Remus wore a shy smile, pointing to himself and cocking his head slightly. You nodded your head, wrapping your free hand that wasn’t holding your drink around his neck and singing the next line.

“And I can’t get enough of you baby. Can you get enough of me?” 

Remus’s free hand found your hip, starting to sway with you for the remainder of the song. You assumed he had had some drinks at home with his friends before coming here. Partly because of the confidence he seemed to be having with you being so forward, and partly due to his seemingly relaxed state in his eyes. 

Over his shoulder you spotted James and Lily, the latter of which sent you a thumbs up before making a shooing motion with her hand. You raised an eyebrow at her and she tilted her head towards the back of the pub. You turned slightly, seeing the back hallway she was motioning to. 

“You okay?” Remus had leaned down to whisper in your ear. Goosebumps raised on your neck and you prayed he couldn’t tell. You looked up at him through your lashes, his honey eyes filled with adoration. 

You grabbed hold of his hand, lacing his fingers with yours and dragging him to the back of the pub. The hallway was only slightly quieter but it was dimmer and just the two of you. You pulled him with you to this space with such force that you nearly slammed your back into the wall with a grip on his jumper. 

Remus stables himself with a hand on the wall behind you. He’s towering over you, looking at you like no one’s ever looked at you before. You barely see his lips tilt into a smile, about to part and say something to you. However before he can get a word out you have another surge of confidence and pull him towards you, pressing your lips together. 

He takes no time to respond, your mouths melding together. His lips on yours was a feeling you never wanted to go without again, you had essentially ruined yourself from being able to kiss anyone else in the future. His free hand found your waist, digging his fingers into the soft flesh as he took a step closer to you, deepening the kiss and pressing his body against yours. 

Your fingers are laced in the hair at the base of his neck and when he pushed close to you, you can’t stop yourself from tugging lightly on the strands in your hand. Remus nearly whimpers into your mouth at the action and you swore your knees were going to give out right there. When he finally pulls away you’re both breathless. His forehead is rested against yours and your chests are heaving. 

“Wow,” Remus was the first one to break the silence you two were holding, “I am so incredibly stupid.” Your eyes shot up to meet his, fearful that he regrets what just happened. He can see the apprehension in your face and only smiles at you, cupping your cheek and running his thumb along your lips, “I am so incredibly stupid to have been too shy to do anything like that sooner.” 

You let out a breath you weren’t even aware you were holding before pulling Remus face back to yours, connecting your lips once more.  So enthralled with each other you didn’t notice your group of friends coming down the hall until Sirius opened his big mouth, “Uhm, hello? It’s my birthday, why the hell is no one snogging me like that?” Yours and Remus' response was a simple middle finger thrown his way, not even pulling your faces apart in the process.

[mercy-thompson-fanfiction]

Hey! I really like your Alpha and Omega fics. You said that you take requests so if you ever have time could you write an alternate universe fic where Charles gets to spend some time courting Anna instead of immediately taking her to Montana (which is something he mentioned wanting to do in On The Prowl)

“No, you definitely cannot do that.”

Samuel’s voice was boiling over with amusement on the other end of the phone call as Charles described his predicament.

“And da said what?”

“Send her to Adam.” Charles closed his eyes, thoroughly defeated by the sound of his brother’s cackling laughter and his own predicament.

Over the moon infatuated, that’s what he was. He couldn’t get the look in her eyes out of his mind when he told her that he would be back. It was killing him not to already be back, but there were things to sort out and paperwork to handle now that Leo and Isabella were dead.

Anna. Brother Wolf reminded him of her name, as if he could forget any piece of her that she’d share. Mate.

“What does my sister-in-law want?” Samuel was laying this on thick for his benefit.

And yet, was good to hear him laughing. It put Charles at ease just as much as it put him on edge.

What did Anna want? He had only asked her a million times. She didn’t want to stay in Chicago, even with Boyd she was—not broken. Anna wasn’t broken.

She was hurting.

A pang of guilt struck him for having left her, but it was just as much for her benefit. The Omega settled the wolf, but Charles was finding the man a problem which was not something he was used to dealing with.

Gut instinct told him to take her with him. Anna was hurting and anxious in a pack that had caused her harm before. When he ran the idea by his da, he’d received a goofy grin—he could hear it in his voice—and a reminder that creating a situation where she was entirely dependent on him was manipulative and, given the circumstances, cruel. Same issue caused the next best thing (furnishing her apartment and putting food on the table) to be shot down. He got by with getting her a better job, but that had been against his father’s advice as well.

Because somehow being the reason she got the job was also detrimental to her mental health and general well-being. His brother had only just agreed with everything he had already had thrown back in his face by their shared parent.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t ask her?”

Charles had asked, and that was part of the dilemma, too. She hadn’t been in a good mind space when he’d suggested coming to Montana and then she had felt guilted into it. When she felt confident enough a few hours later, she brought it up again and said she might like to stick around a little longer.

Take a trip out to her family now that her nightmare was over.

That she didn’t want to stay in Boyd’s pack longer than she had to, but that following blindly just because he told her how he felt didn’t put her any more at ease.

“I don’t think, at this time, that she is of sound enough mind to make a decision like that.” Charles said finally. “And she feels she would like to learn a little more about it all before she jumps headfirst again. They kept many secrets from her. And that’s how it stands.”

“You mean to do this properly then,” His brother was definitely still grinning. “Da is right. Adam’s would be safest.”

Adam would be safest. Of course, there were still plenty of downsides. Adam was relatively recently divorced and unmated, so he was entirely unspoken for. Charles didn’t think Anna would find that to be a problem, but he certainly felt it was going to be a problem. Adam Hauptman was, as he understood it, not at all unattractive.

There was also the matter of that wolf there who had unsavory problems, Charles thought his name might have been Ben. Ben lived there, that was one to look out for.

Then there was his brother who Charles suspected wasn’t quite well, though his energy in this conversation suggested otherwise.

The image was already forefront on his mind of Samuel sitting far too close to Anna for Charles’ own comfort. He bit his tongue to keep from growling at the thought of Samuel’s arm around her in a vision that hadn’t even happened.

There was rustling on the other end of the line.

“Everything ok?” Charles came back down to earth for the moment.

“Can’t ever find anything in Mercy’s place. I’m not sure how she survived before I started putting forks back in their proper utensil slots.” Samuel snorted.

That explained the metallic clinking he was hearing, then.

And it also reminded him of another precarious detail about Adam’s and what sending Anna there entailed.

Mercy. Aptly named, if you looked at those whose lives she had touched, except maybe his brother’s.

“Where would she live?” Charles sighed finally, giving in.

They were both right. Adam’s would be safest short term, even if he wanted Aspen Creek to be best for her. He did hope it would be short term.

Samuel hummed some tune that Charles recognized innately but blocked out with his own thoughts.

“She could bunk with Mercy. Small room, but it might do her good to have a female roommate.”

“Mercy doesn’t do well with female wolves,” Rather, most female wolves didn’t do well with Mercy. “It would be impolite to ask her to put one up in her home.”

Charles suspected that might have been Leah’s doing and not Mercy’s own ability to get under everyone’s skin in a lovably, very-coyote fashion. Nonetheless, it would make Mercy uncomfortable.

And this was of course forgetting that Mercy was already sharing in more ways than one. Samuel had stolen her spare room and Adam shared her back fence.

Asking for more of her was in poor taste.

“Adam’s is out of the question even for a little?” Samuel tried. “He has a daughter she might like, you said she’s young. Adam would give her plenty of space and he wouldn’t step on toes.”

It didn’t matter if he wouldn’t “step on toes” so to speak. Charles would feel like his toes were being stepped on, regardless.

“If she was ok with it, maybe.” That was a lie and even over the phone his brother knew it and laughed, but this time it didn’t sound quite right.

Charles would circle back to that later when he had time to consider it.

“If you’re worried she can be stolen, maybe try wooing her a little better, brother.”

“Isabelle liked Adam.” Because his brain supplied the information.

Samuel laughed again, but this time for real.

“Isabelle would have taken any wolf with a heartbeat to her bed.” That was true, too. “If she hadn’t tried to sleep with him, I understand that she and Christy may have gotten along.”

Apparently, Samuel was calling to mind the same incident.

He was stuck at square one again.

“What do you want me to suggest?” Samuel sighed, but then he added, “Adam has a wolf who calls herself Honey. Her mate, Peter, is submissive. She could feel safe there.”

Charles knew Honey. She and Peter both were old, submissive wolves tended to live long lives, and they’d crossed paths a few times.

“Would Adam suggest it?” Charles questioned, thinking about the possibility very seriously.

There were boxes to check before they could even get that far. The Tri-Cities weren’t the perfect spot as far as location accessibility, but he could pull off the commute. He would happily pull off the commute for Anna’s sake.

Samuel said something along the lines of “probably” while Charles was lost momentarily in thought. Somewhere on the other end of the call was the distinct sound of a key scraping into a lock and the familiar “click” of said lock releasing before a door opened.

“Do you always lock Mercy out of her own home?” Charles asked just as Samuel was greeting his roommate.

Mercy stilled, he could tell without being in the room because he suddenly didn’t hear her. Any phone call he had with his brother was done intentionally when Samuel was either in the car or Mercy wasn’t home. She was prone to be a little skittish, their coyote.

Or, if he were being honest, she was more prone to being angry.

“Charles called to tell me some great news,” For all intents and purposes, Samuel sounded incredibly casual and unbothered by Mercy’s clear discomfort.

“Which is?” Mercy sounded not the least bit interested, but at least she took the bait.

“Family reunion, Mercy,” His brother told her. “Charles wants us to meet the new sister-in-law.”

Closing his eyes, Charles tried not to wonder if the kiss he had just heard was on the lips or on the forehead. It could go either way with Samuel and it wasn’t a relationship he needed all the information on in this moment. In fact, he was actively trying to stay out of it and hoped his father knew what he was doing.

They’d almost lost him already. Mercy might be a death sentence.

“Oh, Mercy, it’ll be like the good old days!”

Mercy had groaned.

Were there any good old days? Charles thought wryly about the crashed car and the peanut butter. There was the time she’d forgotten to close the pasture gate. Couldn’t forget the mystery of the missing left shoes. The disaster that was his father discovering Samuel and Mercy’s plot to run away—Charles still wondered where Samuel thought he would be able to disappear to that they couldn’t find him fast enough. Once upon a time, she had numbered no less than thirty-four toy ducks. There might have been more than thirty-four—they were currently numbered up to 1076, but they doubted there were that many. Only thirty-four were discovered.

Charles had been almost disappointed in Mercy at the time when he learned that they hadn’t been real ducks.

There was, of course, the Watergate Scandal. That might’ve been a “good old day”, he supposed with a small smile. The three of them had laughed, at the very least. Hundreds of tiny cups of water peppered the floor like little landmines. Mercy had started the trail at the front door and meticulously covered the entire home, including the basement stairs. They were pretty sure she exited over the garage and hopped down off the roof there, but Charles himself had never asked.

Leah’s scream of frustration could have been heard for miles when she came home the following morning. His father had come straight home from his business trip to see what the fuss was and to make Mercy clean it up. The Marrok then proceeded in through an upper story window thinking the water was only blocking the door.

He was wrong.

Charles and Samuel had helped Mercy clean up that prank. They might have indirectly been involved with the acquisition (and storage) of the millions of cups.

Memories of Mercedes were a strange combination of fond recollections of innocent pranks and then reminders of her delicate mortality and trusting nature. Those that fell into the latter category made him grit his teeth and wonder how none of them had succumbed to heart attacks or aneurysms. Surely, the frequency at which they’d had them should be deadly even to werewolves.

“Are the good old days in the room with us?”

Charles found himself hiding a smile from no one. He was alone in his home after all.

“We’ve had plenty of good times.” Was that an intentional double entendre or was Charles reading too deeply into a circumstance he still didn’t understand?

He couldn’t decide and thought maybe it would be best if he didn’t try and work that one out. He would come to learn more than he necessarily wanted to know if this all came to fruition.

“Wait, did you say ‘sister-in-law?’”

***

Very little went according to plan, as was typical with Mercedes Thompson. It was only a few weeks later that Charles found himself in the car with Anna on their way to Mercy’s trailer home.

Apparently, years of emotional abuse from the Marrok’s mate had not dampened her desire to help when someone needed it—even when that someone was a female werewolf.

“Oh, so she’s your sister!” Anna smiled brightly.

Charles’ heart warmed. He loved it when she smiled, the way her eyes seemed to sparkle and the edges crinkled upwards. She stuck her tongue between her front teeth sometimes, when she was trying not to laugh, and it was so obvious she was laughing anyways. It made him want to laugh aloud just from watching her.

“She might not like that comparison,” He shouldn’t have been smiling, but hers was so contagious. “Mercy didn’t have an easy time in Aspen Creek.”

That was maybe saying the least. He was sure Anna, of all people, would be able to get the story out of Mercy. Charles was an adult watching Mercy grow up, fairly complicit in how she was being raised. With Bryan and Evelyn, it had been ok, Mercy had grown up as normally as a coyote in a wolf pack could.

But then things had happened. Circumstances had changed. Lives were lost and Mercy was left stranded somewhere in the middle.

“And your brother doesn’t think of her the same way?”

“I don’t know what he thinks.” Charles admitted as honestly as he could. “Theirs is a unique history.”

Maybe not that unique, Charles thought while casting a sideways glance at her. Anna herself was little more than a child when she had undergone the Change against her will under horrifically traumatic circumstances. That was only a few short years ago and the years hadn’t proven kind to her in the least bit.

It was partly that reason, he supposed, that they were doing this—that he had even agreed to this. It wasn’t the age gap that upset him, theirs was tame by the standard of some others. It was the dynamic.

Charles didn’t consider himself a saviour by any stretch of the imagination and, truth be told, Anna had entirely saved herself from her biggest monsters. But she was fresh out of a situation where she had been intentionally made to feel weaker, to feel dependent on someone’s kindness, to cater to someone because of the dependency. He would be playing a dangerous game keeping her fed with a roof over her head, most especially in a town off the beaten path where she knew no one but him.

Safe. Mine.

Yes, he thought, very dangerous.

“And Mercy is a coyote, but you don’t know really how she is?” Anna recapped.

Not entirely, and he explained as much. Charles knew there used to be plenty of people like Mercy. He had met, he thought, at least one. Although, they hadn’t been a coyote.

He definitely would have known.

But he didn’t know what she was beyond the idea that others had once existed. Seemingly, the knowledge had disappeared with the people who would have held it.

There was a wave of sadness at the thought, one that Anna washed away with her own tsunami of peace.

“You said at home the spirits sometimes speak to you,” Anna began. “That they like you? They didn’t tell you what she is?”

“It would seem,” Charles smiled a little fondly at a memory of a coyote pup disappearing into the surrounding woods for a disastrously long and successful (for Mercy) game of hide-and-seek. “That they like her more.”

They turned, finally, upon the road Mercy’s home was on according to the address Samuel had sent.

It was one Charles already knew like the back of his hand. He had Mercy’s number memorized, too, if you asked him to recite it—both her shop and her cell.

And he’d throw in Margi’s for good measure if Anna were asking.

It wasn’t until they had parked that Charles realized that Anna had been the only person he had ever confided in about Mercy. It was possible even the coyote herself didn’t know how he felt about her. Samuel had always been the one to love kids. As he grew older, certainly as decades turned into centuries, Charles had come to assume that key part of his brother’s nature was why he’d taken to him despite all their centuries difference in age. Mercy, knowing her from practically-birth to sixteen and then even longer from afar…

He had come to realize sometimes the age difference in a family didn’t matter. Mercy was as much his sister as Samuel was a brother, even if she weren’t blood.

And—maybe most importantly—Anna wasn’t jealous.

Charles knew Anna was able to feel that way about him, and it had been incredibly satisfying to come to know it even if he discovered it at possibly the most inopportune time.

“Does Mercy know anything about me?” Anna asked him before they cut the engine.

She didn’t sound nervous, but her pulse had quickened and the adrenaline kicked in giving away her fear.

“She knows you’re important to me.” Charles tried to veil his frustration with the way his own brother had introduced the concept of Anna without ever speaking of her as a person by name. “And, through no fault of my own, she believes us to be dating.”

Or married.

“Well,” And she at least sounded amused now as her freckles nearly blended into her undeniably blushing cheeks. “We did go on one date, so I guess it could qualify us as dating.”

One date which had ended incredibly poorly with an attempt on his life which had fortunately missed but caused them to quickly return to her home and regroup before meeting Leo and his poor-shot of a mate.

“We could try again,” Charles suggested, “While I’m here.”

Anna smiled, tongue between her teeth because he himself had made her heart skip a beat.

“Yeah? I’d like that, I think.”

Even over the engine and outside the home, he could hear his brother’s cackle.

[quotergirl19]

Colin & Penelope when he finds out she published one last Whistledown column after he assumed she would stop writing once they became betrothed:

Colin: How could you? You risk being found out and bringing scandal on both our families. You are my fiancé! What were you thinking taking such a risk without even talking to me first, we’re supposed to be a team!

Penelope: Don’t worry, the Bridgerton name is safe and you are still free… you don’t have to marry me. Perhaps you’re even a little relieved.

Colin: What?

Penelope: We both know the ton thinks I trapped you. If my secret did get out, no one would question why our engagement was called off and you wouldn’t have to go through with marrying me.

Colin: You… you want to end our betrothal?

Penelope: Everyone knows you never actually wanted me as your wife… you said as much yourself.

Colin: So you never planned to go through with marrying me, and everything between us has been a lie? But you kissed me… and you allowed me to take so many liberties.

Penelope: I have no regrets about what we have done. But I would never force your hand or steal your future, Colin. You deserve to marry someone for love. Not out of pity or friendship or some misguided sense of protectiveness for a girl who you’ve known forever who lacks other prospects… and certainly not because of a few fleeting moments of passion.

Colin: I… I thought you cared for me?

Penelope: It is because I care so deeply that I will not rob you of your future happiness. In time you will see this is for the best. You can travel a bit and one day you will meet a better woman. Someone worthy of both your heart and the Bridgerton name… someone you could truly be proud to call yours.

Colin: You honestly believe it will be easy for me to forget about you… about us. Do you truly think me so fickle hearted?

Penelope: No. Of course not. But you love Marina, it doesn’t matter that we… I know you never…

Colin: Never what? Wanted to kiss you? Or hold you in my arms? Longed for you in my bed? Wanted you by my side for the rest of my life? Imagined building my life with you? Dreamed of having a family with you… of daughters with your smile and sons with your wit?

Penelope: Not until after you kissed me. It was impulsive and we both know you never…

Colin: I missed you so desperately when we were apart that I cut my travels short just to be near you! When you didn’t write to me I was terrified I had lost you forever to another man!

Penelope: You were merely concerned because you left my family without protection when you scared off my cousin Jack. You never planned on…

Colin: Falling in love with my best friend? Well I did.

Penelope: Don’t be ridiculous Colin you never loved me. The only woman you ever loved was Marina. Even after you knew how she deceived you, you longed to be hers, you swore off women because you couldn’t have her. Don’t you think I know the truth? That you are settling for me! Don’t you think I know when you kiss me that you close your eyes and wish they were her lips on yours? Would you honestly condemn me to a lifetime of knowing I will always be second best, when you are the only man I have ever wanted?

Colin: I was an infatuated, foolish boy, manipulated by a scared, desperate young woman who never really cared about me at all. I am not that boy anymore. You are my oldest, most trusted friend. You have been part of my life forever. No other women has ever treated me better or will ever mean what you mean to me. I choose you. I want you. I need you. Only you, Penelope. Forever. When I think of losing you, I feel as though I cannot breathe. So don’t you dare stand there and tell me I will forget you and move on as though losing the love of my life would mean nothing to me.

Penelope: Me? The love of your life?

Colin: Isn’t it obvious?

Penelope: Then you want to marry me?

Colin: As infuriating as your reckless disregard for your own reputation has been, yes. I’m quite mad for you. And I refuse to let you ruin both our lives… so if you don’t stop talking about ending our engagement and promise to never write Whistledown again, I may do something insane like tie you to the bed and have my way with you until you finally see reason and accept that you are the only woman for me. You are not alone anymore, your actions effect both of us.

Penelope: Alright.

Colin: What? You concede the point?

Penelope: Well, I love you… and if you love me as you say you do then I agree to what you ask. But if I simply agree, I fear you won’t believe that I truly intend to do as you wish. So I intend to let you do your worst… before I make my promises.

Colin: You’re going to let me tie you to the bed?

Penelope: I’m afraid I must. For the sake of our future happiness of course. Here, you can use the hideous yellow ribbons my mama insisted on buying me… hopefully they tear, but lock the door first.

Colin: See! What other young lady would let me win an argument and then insist I ravish her while offering up her ribbons to ensure she could not escape. You are utterly mad! …In the best way, let me help you out of that dress.

Penelope: I’ll even let you do that thing you wanted to do in front of the mirror first… light some more candles.

Colin: An offer I cannot refuse… is this how you intend us to make up when we argue once we’re wed?

Penelope: Don’t be ridiculous darling, once we wed I shall always be right.

Colin: How silly of me, of course… happy wife, happy life.

Penelope: Precisely dearest, you’re catching on quite nicely.

[sisterspooky1013]

Gaslight, Chapter 10/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

It’s Saturday. A day to sleep in, to take the morning slow, to spend time with family. They talked about the Farmer’s Market. They talked about ice cream at that new place downtown. They talked about taking the kids to a movie.

Dana lies in bed, awake, watching sunbeams move across the wall as 9am becomes 10am becomes 11am. She tells Cal she doesn’t feel well, that her stomach is bothering her, and he accepts it with concern and compassion. Pepto Bismol, Imodium, Tylenol, ginger ale, Saltines, and water materialize on her nightstand. She doesn’t even remember him coming into the room.

“Are you sick, Mommy?” Abby asks, and Dana nods glumly.

Abby brings her her very best bear, Mr. Boots. Peter brings her a spider in a cup, then smashes it when it tries to escape. She listens as the din fades into silence and the garage door opens and closes. She feels relieved to be alone in her torment.

They want her to forget. But forget what? And who are ‘they’? The man? Did he somehow compel her to forget him? Was it Cal? Is this all an elaborate way to move on from her affair? Why go back eight years? Eight years. Surely she hadn’t been carrying on that long.

Her mother. Does she know? Is she somehow involved? Was she willing to lie to her daughter for the sake of erasing this shameful mistake?

She summons the will to get out of bed. She showers, salted tears co-mingling with too-hot water and running down the drain. Washed away, like her memories. Like her indiscretions. Like her autonomy.

She finds a walkman in Cal’s desk and puts the disc in. She lies on the floor in the guest room and listens to it over and over and over.

You thrill me. I know you, you, you, thrill me. Darling you thrill me. Honest you do.

She thinks so hard it makes her head ache. She pulls out as many details as she can remember from her dreams. The green countertops. His mossy eyes. The way he said her name. Scully. That he loved her. That she loved him back. There are new tears, and the music is drowned out by her sobs of grief. It was taken from her. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to have it in the first place, but it should have been her choice. She should have been allowed to choose.

At first I thought it was infatuation, but oooo it’s lasted so long…

His mouth is hot, his breath and his lips and his tongue. It seeps through her panties, warming the skin beneath, igniting nerve endings. She tries to keep her hips still as he brushes his lips over cotton and lace, dropping wet kisses on her hip bones and the apex of her heat. She hears him inhale deeply, letting it out with a little hum. She has never in her life felt so attended to, so wanted and worshiped. He pins the fabric of her panties between his teeth, tugging it to the side and running his tongue along the seam of her leg. She swells and gushes, anticipation as piqued as a drawn bow, tensed and ready to fire. His fingers hitch under the elastic at her hips, pulling down and down and down…

She startles and sits up abruptly, finding Cal in the doorway with his knuckles mid-knock.

“What are you doing, mija?” he asks, bewildered.

“Um,” she tries, pausing to swallow and collect her thoughts. “I was just trying to get comfortable.”

“On the floor?”

“Yeah. Sorry. How are the kids?”

She rises slowly from the floor as blood rushes to her head.

“They’re good. We saw The Road To El Dorado and went to the park with the big slide,” he says, eyeing her curiously. “Are you feeling any better?”

“A little bit,” she says, offering him a small smile.

He follows her downstairs and she does her best to rally for the children. They tell her all about the movie, and a dead squirrel they saw near the park.

“It looked like this!” Pete says, then lays on the floor and sticks his arms and legs up in the air, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

They have dinner. They get the children ready for bed. She steals glances at Cal, wondering and wondering. What is he keeping from her? What will he do if he realizes she’s suspicious? Does he actually know anything that she doesn’t?

He catches her in the hallway as she leaves Abby’s room, his hands on her hips stilling her.

“Can we watch some TV?” he asks, his expression pained.

“I think—I think I might just go to bed,” she says, avoiding his eye. “I still don’t feel very well.”

“Okay,” he aquiesces, releasing her and taking a step back. “Hopefully you feel better tomorrow.”

She nods, and he moves toward the stairs.

“I’m going to sleep in the guest room,” she says, and he freezes with his hand on the banister. “I just don’t want to keep you up with my tossing and turning,” she adds.

“Okay,” he says defeatedly, not bothering to look at her.

She watches him disappear around the corner at the bottom of the stairs, unsure whether his hangdog posture should elicit feelings of guilt or victory. He must know—how could he not? His love feels genuine, but loving someone does not preclude you from hurting them. In fact, those who love you are the ones who often hurt you worst of all.

She locks the guest room door. She listens to the song until the batteries in the Walkman go dead. She cries—for herself, for him, for whatever it is she lost. She cries because she doesn’t even know. Her tears pull her under, wringing her out to the point of exhaustion. She sleeps.

-

She drapes her body over his, their bare skin hot and electric as she wriggles up until his shaft is nestled in the valley of her thighs. She rocks her hips gently forward and back as he cranes his neck up to kiss her, humming and sighing. She’s so wet, and they’re so ready, he finds his way inside her without the use of their hands. She pauses to acclimate to the sweet, stinging stretch of him, taking minutes to kiss between each added inch until she sits fully impaled in his lap.

He sits up, cradling her face in his hands and kissing her firmly, urgently, as her hips begin to flex.

“Fuck, Scully. I love you,” he groans, and she feels herself rise up to meet him.

“Mulder,” she whimpers against his mouth.

“Mulder.”

-

Peter is pounding on the door.

“Mommy! I gotta show you something!”

Mulder. Mulder. Mulder. Mulder.

She clings to it, scribbling it onto her waking memory so it isn’t lost to the ephemeral anamnesis of sleep.

She pops the lock and the door flies open, and Peter holds out his hand to reveal a screw and a small metal disc. Her head is swimming, and she steadies herself with one hand resting on the door jam.

“I finded this in the garage!” he says proudly, and she gives the objects a cursory examination.

“That’s cool, Pete. Thanks for showing me.”

He tears off down the hallway, gone as quickly as he arrived, and she glances at the bedside clock: it’s after 10:00 am.

Mulder. Mulder. Mulder. Mulder.

Downstairs, she digs through the junk drawer for a pen and pulls out a pad of legal paper. She writes it down every way she can imagine that the sound she heard come from her own lips might be spelled.

Molder

Moulder

Melder

Mulder

Mulldur

Cal is watching her from the sofa, Abby tucked up under his arm. He doesn’t say anything, just follows her with his eyes as she tears the page off the notebook and returns the pen to the drawer, then pours herself a cup of tepid coffee. She makes her way back upstairs, sitting down at the computer in the rec room and pulling up Yahoo.

Molder Cremation and Funeral Planning Services.

Moulder- to slowly decay or disintegrate.

Melder, Thomas. 3311 Lincoln Drive, Tampa, FL.

Mulder, Declan, and Westwood, Attorneys at Law.

Mulldur: no results found.

The phone rings and she ignores it.

Her fingernails rattle against the keys as she thinks. Mulder. It sounds like a surname. If he called her Scully, she must have also called him by his last name. But why? In what circumstance would someone call their lover by their last name?

“Whatcha workin’ on?”

She jumps, crumpling the paper and stuffing it into the pocket of her robe. She turns in her seat and finds Cal at the top of the stairs, eyeing her pensively.

“Just something for work,” she lies. “I remembered that I—forgot something. For work.”

Cal nods, but it’s clear that he’s unconvinced.

“Can we talk? Just for a minute?” he asks, crossing the room and leaning against the wall beside the desk.

“Uh, sure,” she answers nervously. “But the kids—”

“I sent them over to the neighbors’,” he answers, and her heart begins to race. “What’s going on with you, Dana?”

“I’m still just feeling a bit unwell. I think I’m fighting something off,” she says, touching her forehead for effect.

Cal’s chin puckers momentarily. His head jerks toward his shoulder. He swallows, then looks at the floor.

“Please don’t lie,” he says softly. “You know how I feel about lying.”

No, I don’t. She thinks. Someone made sure that I don’t know that anymore.

“I’m not lying, Cal. There’s a bug going around at work—”

“That was Michelle who called,” he interrupts, his eyes still on the floor.

“On a Sunday?” Dana asks, surprised.

“She said you were supposed to see her last week and you didn’t show up,” Cal continues, then lifts his head to look at her. “She said you’ve been having disturbing dreams. Why didn’t you tell me, mija?”

He looks so genuinely wounded, she decides not to outwardly express her anger that Michelle shared her private information with him. Then again, she probably signed something saying that she could. She signed a lot of documents in those first few days, scrawling Dana Rose as though it were a foreign language.

“It’s nothing, Cal. There was nothing to tell,” she insists, though not angrily.

Cal stares at her stonily, disbelieving. She needs him on her side, needs to keep some part of her life held together enough that she can continue searching for the bits that broke off.

“I’m at a hospital,” she says, appearing to relent. “Not St. Agnes, somewhere else. And there’s a man with a gun, and he just keeps screaming. That’s it. That’s the dream, over and over. Sometimes the gun fires.”

Cal visibly relaxes, taking two steps forward and dropping to his knees at her feet. He moves her robe aside and pushes her T-shirt up to reveal her belly, then runs his thumb over the scar there.

“You’re remembering,” he says, and now it is she who sighs with relief. “It makes sense that this would be the memory that breaks through. It was traumatizing.”

He looks up at her, and she forces herself to touch the sides of his face, brushing her thumbs across his cheeks. She wants to trust him, wants to feel that little bit of security and contentment that was so quickly snatched away, but her gut is telling her that he’s not safe. No one is.

“Will you please go see Michelle tomorrow?” he asks pleadingly. “I’m worried about you.”

She nods, and he wraps his arms around her waist, resting his head on her chest.

“I love you,” he whispers hoarsely.

She strokes his hair, hearing the man, Mulder, in her mind. Fuck, Scully. I love you.

“I love you too,” she says rotely.

She plays the part. Loving wife. Attentive mother. It’s all she can think to do.

She dreams of him again. She wakes with the taste of his kiss on her lips. She wonders where he is now.

Mulder.

-

“Calvin sounded distressed when I spoke to him yesterday.”

Michelle is ornery. Jilted. Slighted by a patient who did not comply.

“May I see my release of medical information forms, please?” Dana asks, returning her snark. “I don’t recall giving you permission to disclose what we discuss here to my husband, and if I did, I’d like to retract that.”

Michelle’s mouth thins into a small line.

“Are you taking your medication, Dana?” she asks derisively.

“Yes,” Dana answers flatly.

“And are you still having dreams?”

“No.”

Michelle huffs and tosses her notepad onto an empty chair.

“You do realize you won’t gain anything from these sessions if you’re not honest with me?” she asks incredulously.

“I am being honest,” Dana replies, giving her nothing. “I’d like to see my release of medical information, please.”

Michelle stares at her, and Dana stares right back. It’s a battle of wills that she has no intention of losing. Whoever Michelle is, whatever she’s been asked to do or prevent, she won’t find a compliant patient in Dana.

“I could legally have you committed, Dana. Give me a reason to believe that you’re a danger to yourself or your children, and no judge will deny the request,” Michelle says in a gravely serious tone.

“Is that a threat?” Dana asks, feigning fearlessness as her heart leaps into her throat.

“We’re not getting anywhere today,” Michelle says as she stands and walks around to the other side of her desk. “Come back on Wednesday. Perhaps you’ll be ready to have an actual conversation then.”

Dana exits her office wordlessly, marching out of the building and back to her car with rage grasping her throat. She thinks back to all she shared with Michelle under the assumption that she was an advocate, feeling tricked and foolish.

She’s lost, so damn lost, with no north star or guiding light, nothing to tie herself to that she can be sure is real. She could leave Cal, but then what? Where would she go? Who can she trust?

No one. Not even her own mother.

Adrenaline fades and is replaced by exhaustion, her eyelids sagging as she makes her way towards the freeway entrance. At the last minute, she pulls into a coffee shop instead and parks, afraid that she may not make it back to Ellicott City alive, as tired as she is.

She orders a latte and leans against the wall as she waits. She lets her eyes slide closed as she tries to identify her next move. She could ask her mother, come right out and tell her she knows that something is going on, but if Maggie was willing to take part in this entire charade in the first place, odds are good that she’ll go to great lengths to keep it up. She could hire a private investigator. Perhaps they could locate the man, Mulder. She has little to no information to go on, other than a vague physical description and a last name. She doesn’t even know what region of the country he’s in, or if he’s in the US at all. He could be anywhere in the entire world.

“Just a large black coffee, please. No room.”

Her eyes snap open, and he’s there. He. Him. The man—Mulder. Standing not ten feet away, at the front of the coffee line. She knows his voice, the square of his shoulders, the bridge of his nose. He turns to walk to the coffee bar, right toward her, and she is struck by his hooded green eyes, his full bottom lip.

Fuck, Scully. I love you.

She waits with her heart pounding in her ears for him to see her. For that same realization to cross his face. It’s you, he might say. He can fill in all the missing pieces, make her feel like a whole person again.

But he doesn’t.

He gives her no more than a passing glance, then stands a few feet away and waits for his coffee.

“Latte for Dana,” the barista calls out, snapping her back to reality.

She approaches him, feeling a magnetic pull toward his body. His tailored suit, his chestnut hair: he is a living memory. A beacon. She feels the weight of his arms, the press of his kiss. She stands right beside him and he finally turns to look at her, his eyes scanning her face.

“Mulder?” she rasps out, and his eyebrows furrow. “Mulder, it’s me.”

Tagging @today-in-fic

[anticanonsposts]

Lunar Embrace-Chapter 6

cw: fem pronouns used, angst, self hatred, inferiority complex, self ridicule, others??

wc: 2,112

Y/n’s eyes slowly opened as she familiarized herself with her surroundings. Laying on her stomach she glided her left hand up and down the soft sheets, breathing in deeply. She then realized that her legs were trapped under something heavy, and there was also something heavy draped over her back, König’s arm. Both of them still completely naked, she was reminded of the events that transpired the night before and her core started buzzing. She reached her hands up to rub some of the sleep from her eyes. Her stirring must have started to wake König, who while still asleep, snaked his left arm around her side and pulled her towards him. She was still surprised at how easily he was able to maneuver her body. His left leg and arm curled around her body even more, and he buried his face into her neck, still taking deep sleepy breaths.

His left hand and forearm were splayed in front of her face on the pillow next to her and she absentmindedly started to trace each of his knuckles, drawing patterns. This completely woke König up, completely turning on his side and taking a deep breath in.

“Good morning, engel” he said as he traced kisses up her shoulders. She cackled inside at the pet name in whatever language she did not understand. She gave him a content hum in response. 

They repositioned slightly so that he was laying on his side, his chest to her back, she leaned back on the strong form behind her. Both of his arms now draped around her, she started to fidget with his hands.

“Sorry for leaving you to your own devices yesterday while I slept,” König said softly, propping his right hand under his head so he could see y/n’s face. 

“Oh it was fine! I raided your book collection a bit” she replies, earning a smile from him. “I found a storybook for children. It had a beautiful story in it.” she continues.

“What was it about?”

“It was about this young maiden, who met a young nobleman who she became infatuated with. He liked her as well, but he seemed to be hesitant about giving himself to her completely. So he distanced himself from her. Then in hopeless longing…” y/n continued in a theatric, melodramatic tone, earning a chuckle from König. “She spent all her time in the library, reading almost every book cover to cover to try to keep her mind off the man. Then one day when she was finally no longer tormented over what she and the man could have had, she saw him in the woods. They shared a look that just made her heart ache, all of her thought to be forgotten feelings came flooding back. But then he told her to leave, that she needed to leave him alone and forget about him. She was about to respond and tell him off when all of the sudden the man crumpled to the ground in pain. The groans he let out were of an agony she had never felt or seen before. Then she noticed that he was changing, morphing into some hideous beast. He kept clawing at his throat as if he couldn’t breathe. Then the maiden let out a scream and left him there, the man she had once professed to love and care for. After running away, she forgot about him entirely, never wanting to remember him.” y/n finished having a sort of solemn voice at the end of the story. “I think that's just awful.”

She just thought it was so horrible that the maiden felt so much love for the man, who was clearly trying to protect her from himself. And when, what seemed like the time, he needed her the most, she abandoned him. Her love seemed to be very superficial and rooted in fantasy and belief. 

König felt nothing but shame, as she recounted the story to him. Being around her was the best he had felt in years, and now hearing this story and how awful she thought it was. Unbeknownst to her the similarities between her situation and the maidens. Selfishly, he loved that she was sort of trapped here with him, and that she seemed perfectly content to be. However these thoughts were quickly ripped away from him, as he looked down at her soft form in front of him, he just couldn’t bear it any longer.

All of the sudden König completely pulled away from y/n, turning to lie on his stomach, a shaky breath rattling through his chest as tears bullied their way out of his eyes. 

Y/n was beyond confused and concerned, she had never seen someone be moved to tears so quickly from a simple story. “König a-are you-?” she started to say but he just completely pulled away from her, sitting up on the edge of the bed, facing away from her. Tentatively she danced her fingertips across his back, still trying to cover herself with the sheets, once again inquiring what was wrong.

“I’m sorry,’ he says, rubbing his eyes harshly to get rid of any last tears, “I’m sorry I think you should go, I shouldn’t have done this, it was selfish, please just leave” he says now standing up from the bed, still facing away from her. 

She says something he doesn't actually  hear in protest as she gets up to follow him, but he just shoots around one hand flying up to grip her forearm, “Please, leave.” he repeated firmer than before. 

But then upon seeing tears well up in her eyes, along with a small look of fear at the grip he had on her arm. He immediately lets go, and backs away from her slightly, putting his hands up, exposing his palms to her in a sort of surrender. 

Then contrary to the girl in the story, she says, “No. König no I’m not leaving. I know there may be some things that you aren’t telling me, but you care about me. I know it hasn’t been very long, but I care about you as well. And I won’t let you push me away that easily.” finishing with her voice slightly more shaky than when she started. 

“No, please, trust me you do not want this, want me. Ok, there’s things about me that you don’t know, things that would make all of your feelings disappear. Please you said so yourself with the story you read, that the story was just awful. And I lied to you, I let you in without painting you the full picture, please if you knew you’d want nothing to do with me.” König finished once again starting to cry. His eyes pleading with y/n to have mercy on him and just leave. 

“König please, just tell me, I promise I won’t leave, I promise I won’t be scared, I promise, just please.” y/n begs hoping that he would open up a little bit. 

“Ok, why don’t you get dressed, we can go make some food and talk” he finally agrees. 

After they both get dressed, and awkwardly make their way down to the kitchen, König starts cooking some eggs and bacon before y/n pops up beside him and asks, “I could make pancakes too if you want?” God she’s just so pretty he thinks to himself before showing her where the ingredients are in his kitchen.  After some more awkward silence and a few light touches, they sit down to have their breakfast. 

Comically König has three plates just for himself, y/n never thought about how much food this man must eat to keep weight on. But her thoughts were kept short, by König clearing his throat and taking a sip of his water.

“Ok, I need to start out by saying that I am sorry I didn’t tell you this sooner…” Dear god, y/n thought to herself, has he killed someone, does he have some sort of incurable disease? “Some of the things you have mentioned, like the strange markings, the noises you heard the other night, and the concern from the neighboring villages, all connect back to me.” he pauses briefly in case she had questions, then continues, “Each month, something happens to me, like in the story you read, I go through a change…and I’m not myself. That’s also why I was able to get better so quickly from my injuries.” he finishes taking perhaps the largest breath he has ever taken. Praying to whatever higher power that they do not take this angel in front of him away.

Y/n takes a moment to think about it, at first truthfully she thought he was joking. There was no way that things from a story book could have any sort of truth to them, but clearly they could. “Is that why you live all the way out here? Or why do you have a horse stable a couple miles away, instead of just right by your cabin?” she asks nervously looking from her plate to his face.

“Y-Yes, I wanna make sure I am nowhere near other people when I change, and I don’t want to accidentally kill one of my horses either.” he answers, happy that at least she hasn’t run off screaming yet. 

“How long has this been going on? Since you were a boy?” she presses on, she knew he was not originally from here. While two days ago she had divulged much of her past life, he had mainly stuck to the present. 

“No, fortunately it didn’t start until I was around the age of 20, and even then after the attack it was consistent until about two years later.” he answered which caused more questions to pop up in her mind. 

‘How old was he? She shamefully didn’t even know, Jesus y/n you slept with the man and you don’t know his age?’ 

Her silence making him nervous he quickly adds, “The attack I’m referencing was when I was 20 and I was on a hunting trip and a giant thing bit me. Which started all of this mess.” he finishes making a gesture with both of his hands to his entire body. 

“I’m sorry, how old are you? And what do you mean by thing? Did you not see what bit you?” she asked all at once.

“I’m 26”, he chuckles “I suppose I never have told you plainly. And I can’t remember, I just know whatever bit me was big and tough.”

“But, surely you’ve seen yourself when you ‘change’, what do you look like?” she pressed on, her curiosity nearly killing her at this point. 

“Oh, umm, no, I’ve never seen myself. I don’t want to know what I look like. I just try to forget about it until that point of the month. Then I distance myself from people as much as I can and ride out the storm.” he explains. He truly never wanted to see what he looked like, his imagination had run wild in the past, he could only imagine that he turned into the most hideous beast. Something completely primal and heinous in its actions. He tried his whole life to be good, to make people not see him as a threat despite his stature. But then some stupid creature destroyed everything he had built over the years. 

Y/n just took a deep breath and sat back in her chair, trying to take in all of the information she had been given in the last 10 minutes. Strangely enough she didn’t find herself fearful, she was if anything more intrigued and interested in the man sitting next to her. She saw past his insecurities about his condition and saw the depth that it gave him. It truly showed her who he was, that he was good, kind, and gentle. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt someone, something that she desperately needed in her life. 

König while y/n was deep in thought was absolutely swimming in worry, convinced that she now wanted nothing to do with him. The one person he found a connection with after all these years. Someone who let him in despite his demeanor, someone who, against his better judgment, let his fantasies run wild, already seeing a future with her. 

Then, as if reading his mind y/n says, “I’m not afraid of you König. And I will stay as long as you’d like.” reaching out to bring his right hand between hers, rubbing soothing circles around his rough knuckles.  

“Thank you, I would like that.” he counters, bringing her hands up to his lips, giving each a gentle kiss.

(This is not the end <3)

taglist:

@honeybeeznutz

[annikin-annotates]

Tear you Apart - Chapter 2

Hello my loves! I’m back with my first post of the year! This one wasn’t supposed to be the first post of the year, but here we are. I have lots of fics planned for the coming months so keep an eye out!! Before we get into this chapter I would like to take a second to tell you that this fic deals heavily with trauma, emotional abuse and the effects that come with that. So if this isn’t your thing, please keep the above in mind. 

Take care darlings!

Content warnings: Trauma, coercion, A rather nasty bite scene, the Spawn in this isn’t our mans Astarion (He is making an appearance soon, I promise!). 

Word Count: 2,648

Na-Mara’s Pov

While she had been afforded comfortable lodgings by her ever generous master, her captor, whose name she came to know was Fintos, most of her time during the day was filled with seeing that his needs were met. She did so with well disguised chagrin; he couldn’t know of her true intent in letting him do the things he did. The rest of her free time, which wasn’t usually much, was spent reading or resting from the previous night’s activities.

It became her nightly routine to be paraded about the establishment like a prized show horse, to entertain whomever her master wished her to. By then, the night’s intended target would be begging her for a chance to see what other services her body could provide. Na-Mara was never allowed to refuse and they never declined. 

That brought her to where she was now, lounging scantily clad across the deep purple settee in her master’s office reading a book. While it was near unbearable to be around him, she found an odd sense of satisfaction bubble within her whenever he called on her; his infatuation with her only made her job easier. 

Her plan was to allow him to fall for her, to make him think that she was eating from the palm of his hand. She would not allow herself to forget his transgressions against her, she would use it as a driving force to get what she wanted: her pelt back. She would do what she needed, and if that meant playing the role set out for her, then so be it, her pride be damned. 

The last few months had been torturous, always pandering to the wants and whims of others and never herself, she was in a near constant state of exhaustion. Though quiet moments like this allowed her a momentary reprieve, to allow her mind to drift off to a kinder place. A place where a dashing prince would sweep her off her feet and take her far away from here, just like in the stories her master would read aloud to her. 

She would often think of home in these quiet moments, reminiscing on how salt and sand would cling to her skin after laying on a beach all day; or how divine tearing apart a fresh kill felt. Her life was nothing like that, not anymore at least. There would be no dashing prince that would rescue her nor a fairytale wedding to celebrate; the only way she saw this ending was in blood. Either Fintos’ or her own, she wasn’t sure, and she wasn’t desperate to find out - not if her current plan was to work. 

—     

She had been dressed in silver chains adorned with gems and pearls that glittered and shone in the setting sun of the late afternoon. Two large slits sat high in the dress, exposing the entirety of each of her legs. The softness of where her legs met her torso on display, the chains connecting the front and back of the dress felt so thin that she was sure they would break if her pace was more than a saunter. Her hair was braided away from her face, small pieces too short to be neatly tucked away intricately formed into waves on her temples. 

Dressing in attire like this had become part of her daily routine; she would bathe and dry herself and then be subject to hours of looking at herself in a lookingglass. Though by the time her ‘helpers’ - other unfortunate souls Fintos had abducted and then forced into servitude - were done, she hardly looked like herself. 

Na-Mara felt that was easier in a way, it separated her from what she had to force herself through each night; the woman being paraded around night after night wasn’t her - but a caricature. It was easy once she got the hang of it, her job was to pander to the patrons - whatever that was, singing to small groups or entertaining them with small parlour tricks. All to make them feel comfortable; comfortable enough to loosen their purses, and their tongues. But nothing worked as well as listening to them, other than using her body, of course.

The simple fact of the matter was that drunks talked a lot, and the more they consumed - the more their tongues wagged. She would listen to whatever they had to say, more often than not they would offload their burdens onto a pretty thing like her without much pushing. Most of the time all it took was a brush of her slender fingers across their chest and it was over before it even began; it was all too easy.   

Na-Mara’s first target of the evening was a pretty young woman with hair that reminded her of the setting sun, deep orange woven with gold and red. She was dressed beautifully, almost too nicely for the establishment; she wanted people to know she was wealthy. With her velvet dress in a shade of green so deep it looked black under the dim light, a sage green chemise peeked through the lacing of her sleeves. She was dripping in gold, gold bands and shiny gems adorning each of her fingers, she wore several necklaces layered around her neck; a silk ribbon choker, followed by a longer chain with a diamond encrusted emerald pendant.  

Despite her frivolous fashion sense, she proved to be quite shy; all fluttering lashes and tinted cheeks each time Na-Mara smiled in her direction. It was quite the welcome change of pace, it was nice to not have people tripping over one another vying for her attention. Na-Mara waved her over with a delicate hand gesture, a sense of satisfaction bubbling in her stomach as the starry eyed woman jumped at the chance to bask in her light. 

“You seemed lonely over there by yourself, I thought you might benefit from some company that isn’t a man,” Na-Mara smiled as the young woman spoke, sidling up to her. Na-mara signalled the barkeep for two glasses of red - the expensive stuff, her master was paying afterall. 

“I suppose you’re right. Terribly dull creatures men are, once you’ve met one; you’ve met them all,” she half joked as two glasses of wine were placed in front of them. Na-Mara took the fine crystal into her hand, sipping the liquid inside - if there was one thing she had grown fond of while on land, it was wine.  

The woman blushed a pretty shade of pink, looking down to the red wood of the bar before following Na-Mara’s lead and taking a sip of her drink. She was a pretty woman, round faced with beautiful blue eyes that looked at her through dark lashes, freckles dusted her entire face - each one of them a love letter from the sun. It almost made her feel bad, it truly was a pity that Na-Mara had a job to do.

She followed her routine to the letter; she was kind and inviting, nodding and smiling in encouragement watching as the woman in front of her became more dishevelled. Her words had begun to slur quite some time ago, on her third glass of wine while Na-Mara had still been sipping on her first. She had finally put a stop to her master's sick game when the poor woman could no longer stand straight. 

“Goodness, are you alright?” she asked, worry lacing her voice. She wrapped her arm around her waist, tight enough to steer her, but not tight enough to cause alarm.

The woman laughed heartily. “Oh I am fine! One too many glasses is all,” she smiled, the pink tint on her skin darkening. Na-Mara laughed lightly, forgetting for a moment that she was the cause of this, she was the harbinger of this woman's death. 

“Well, let’s get you some place where you can relax for a moment, shall we?” she asked, leading her down a secluded hallway towards where her captors' lackeys would no doubt be waiting to wring whatever information out of her they could. 

No sooner had she delivered one woman to her demise, she was scooped up into the arms of her captor - he had another job for her. It wasn’t another target, simply a request from a patron with a rather peculiar appetite.  

Na-Mara’s blood ran cold as she looked pleadingly at Fintos to take back the order, he only urged her forwards, his dark brows raised expectantly. He tipped her chin towards him, his face dipping to hers, “You will do this pet, remember our deal,” he chided, his breath fanning across her face, the bond tugging between them. She nodded hesitantly, he was right, they had a deal. 

Her breath shook as she took a moment to compose herself, the air around her thick with incense becoming stuck in her throat, nearly choking her. The fear on her face was replaced with an easy smile as she sauntered forward, jewels and delicately strung pearls that hung from her outfit glinting in the candlelight. She was a delicious sight, she had no doubt, her dress made from fine silver chains doing nothing to hide the peaks and valleys of her body. 

Her new client - a vampire spawn, had requested to feed on her; to see if she tasted as sweet as she looked, according to her master. A disgusted shiver danced across her spine as she made her way to him, he sat in a plush armchair with a crystal glass filled with a thick red liquid, she hoped was wine. 

He smirked over his glass at her, taking a sip of the dark liquid before shifting in the chair. Her eyes narrowed into a sultry stare, one that she had honed into a weapon, her supple body her armour in which she wore into battle each night. And with the power that both provided, she could bring any man to their knees, singing praises and prayers alike. 

He had pulled Na-Mara into his lap unceremoniously, a surprised squeak leaving her lips as her back collided with his chest. His fingers laced tightly into the bottom of her braid, hair pinching and pulling painfully as she tried to turn her head to meet his gaze. Her heart beat furiously in her chest, like the wings of a bird trapped in a gilded cage. All she could think about was how much she didn’t want this, and how much it would hurt, of that she had no doubt. 

Though she had no choice but to push through, to let the fear course through her, to let it turn her whole being bitter. She hoped that she tasted like rot when she hit his tongue, she hoped that whatever sick pleasure he got from splaying her out like this - for all to see, turned to ash in his mouth. She hoped that it would make them all think twice before their calloused hands reached out to bruise.

His cold breath fanned out across the juncture where her shoulder met her neck, he was centimetres from her now. She could smell the distinct tang of blood on his breath - she wasn’t his first meal of the night, she prayed that he wouldn’t take more than he needed; and if he did, she hoped he at least would finish the job. 

Na-Mara relaxed in his grip, allowing him to position her wherever he felt most comfortable. 

She secluded herself into that sweet place in her mind, where neither pain nor sadness could lay their claws on her. Resigning herself to the fact that yet another piece of her would be torn from her, to live eternally in the body of another instead of being buried - at least one part of her would be free. 

She felt his tongue slide across her pulse point, gauging the best place to sink his teeth into, she steeled her nerves; forcing herself to stop trembling in his grip. It took every ounce of her strength not to shy away from him, to not will the ground beneath her to open and swallow her whole. His teeth sank into her without warning, a choked cry falling from her lips as pain radiated from her neck. She could feel him pulling the blood from her body, his fangs pressing deep into her jugular.   

The whole ordeal was over before it had truly begun, as a warm liquid splattered across her face and body. She was promptly pushed from the Spawns lap, she looked at him through bleary eyes trying to make sense of what just happened. His face was incandescent with rage - like he had been given the poor end of the bargain. 

“She tastes like salt water and rotten flesh!” he hissed, gulping down the liquid in his glass, trying to rid himself of her rancid taste. She couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation; he bit her, a creature born amidst the salt and sea - what did he expect her to taste of? Her captor was by the spawns side in seconds, smoothing the situation over by offering the neck of another one of his pretty little puppets, it seemed to quell the spawns temper slightly.

Her captor's quick action allowed for one of his other employees to scoop her up, and lead her upstairs to her chambers. A moon toned Drow woman with hair the colour of spun silver and a voice that reminded her of her home, it was soft and sweet like summer rain. She held Na-Mara close to her chest as they walked, not caring about the blood that was staining her dark attire.

It took for her to sit in front of her mirror to realise that the warm liquid spat on her had, in fact, been blood - her blood. She scrunched her nose in disgust before reaching for the pitcher and basin by the vanity, a rough linen cloth hanging from the bowl's edge. Only to have the cloth gently taken from her hands, each speck of blood dabbed away with kindness she had not known for many months. 

Na-Mara found herself tearing up as she stared at the puncture wound in the mirror, two ugly caverns forcefully torn into her flesh. The young Drow laid a soft hand on her cheek, thumb tracing her cheek bone as she made eye contact with her in the mirror. “Will it scar?” Na-Mara asked, her voice sounding smaller than it ever has. 

She nodded in response, “It will,” she started, “But do not let its pain darken your heart, there is so much sweetness in the world; so much left to keep fighting for.” 

Na-Mara bit the inside of her cheek, how could she not let it darken her heart? She had been taken from all she has ever known and loved, forced into servitude and made to suffer a new horror each night. She wanted to scream until her voice gave in, until her throat and lungs were bloody and raw, to expel each moment of humiliation and pain she endured. But she couldn’t, it would jeopardise everything she was working towards, but she could manage to articulate some of it."It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We bear no scars for happiness, we learn so little from kindness."

The Drow, whose name she had learned was Nym, left shortly after to return to her clients down stairs. And when she was certain that nobody would bother her for the rest of the night, she poured more water into the basin and scrubbed herself raw. And then she did it again, she still felt dirty, Na-Mara could still feel his hands on her, could still hear that starry eyed woman’s laughter ringing in her ears, she wanted to peel off her skin and set it ablaze. 

She was so tired. 

A big thank you to @arcielee for beta reading for me and @azperja for sitting through countless snippets of this, I appreciate you both so much!

Reblogs are greatly appreciated! it really helps get my work out there!

[madamealys]

Imagine Lord Vader tempts you. (+21)

Warnings: unburnt Vader.

(I)

***

You have managed to become friends with the dark lord, this Sith man by whom looked as more a machine creature than human being. You’ve managed to bond with a cold, heartless former Jedi, whose path to power is bloody.

What is more: Lord Vader is infatuated by this sweet innocent, naive even, woman who manages to make him laugh with terrible jokes, whose service to the Empire is deprived of ambition—you need to pay your bills, you are a regular woman.

Unlike his former associations, you do not judge him by who he was, nor who he is now. You partially fear him, but this is more prudence than properly fear in itself.

But as time goes by, Vader begins to see you as something else. He notices the clothes you dress reinforce your curves. He never noticed a simple black shirt would make him realize you have good and firm breasts. That the jeans you wear is slightly loose in your waist… and when he spotted you on your knees, he thinks he saw you wearing that kind of undergarment that… well, he has no words to put it.

When night comes in, he is reminded that he is a man with natural desires. He thought he’d long overcome these, for since Padmé died all that was his followed her to the grave.

This night, however, all he can think of is the possibility of having you naked. Would you command him with your well shaped thighs, ride his cock? Or would you prefer to be under his ways? Would you take his cock to your mouth, swallowing all?

The idea of corrupting you, of making you cry out his name—makes him release the pressure himself. This night he jerks at the many possibilities, all of which involving you, of not being alone anymore.

A question remains, though: how will he get you to his bed? He cannot take you for granted. And regardless who he is and what kind of reputation he lives for, Vader is no disrespectful man.

But he waits.

He is patient.

***

There is a feast this evening and you are surprised to have been invited to take part of the imperial banquet since you are a common woman who doesn’t possess much to be counted as elite.

Nevertheless, you have in mind he will be there, and moved by it, you opt to dress your best clothes. Whilst your conscience admonishes you for thinking of your friend in other shades, you want to be seen as something else than the “clean lady” who is held in high esteem by the most feared man of the galaxy.

Perhaps you are being bold, but you end up dressing a simple, long gown that, however, has a way to show your thigh and reinforces your curves. It may show your collarbone, disguising not very well your nipples. You take pride of your pride when seeing your reflection.

You do well in remember of wearing the jewelry he gifted you on your birthday. And letting your y/c hair loose, you are ready to go.

Every pride dies when you see this handsome, devilish man standing tall, looking bored as if he wishes he is anywhere but there. You forget how to breathe, though, when he senses your presence.

And when his flaring gaze meets yours, a shiver runs down at your spine. Regret almost instantly seizes your conscience. Perhaps you shouldn’t dress that indencently, perhaps…

“You are looking beautiful, Y/Nickname”, he says in his risky voice, looking up and down at you with no effort in disguising his approval, which makes you uncomfortably wet in between your legs.

“My lord”, you greet him rather shyly.

“Lord?”, you spot amusement behind his flaring eyes, yellow as sun, inviting to burn. “We’ve past formalities, my dear. I was worried you wouldn’t come.”

You notice today his hair is shorter, but his curls remain the same.

“I see you are wearing the gift I gave you. Looking lovely as I judged so”, he smirks. “I feel inclined in not staying longer, but I wonder whether or not to extend you the invitation since I fear many eyes are on you now.”

“Yours are that matter most, Darth”, you speak rather bluntly, much to his amusement—and contentment.

***

Walking alone in these corridors should warn you of possible dangers, of how imprudent you are behaving. But when Vader takes your arm with his, you never felt safer.

“It has been a while since I last felt attracted to someone”, he begins after a while spent in silence. “But beyond your wit and sharp tongue there is a beautiful woman who tempts me every day and fuck, I cannot just content myself with my hand.”

“Your hand?”, you inquire awkwardly.

Vader chuckles quietly before telling you right away what he means, pleased to see you are blushing.

“Oh.”

“But if you tell me you don’t feel the same…”

You lean closer to him and Vader spots your firm breasts, how close to show out of the gown your nipples are. The man holds his breath, despite the effect in his pants.

“I feel. You know I do.”

And just like that you press your lips against his, not entirely surprising him for doing so. No innocence lasts long when spark of desire is about to leash in fire.

Vader sighs in content, patiently letting you have your way, as your hands move to his face up to his hair, tiptoeing to kiss him better. As one tongue pairs with the other, he soon locks you against the wall, his hands now all over your waist.

“So beautiful”, he leans to kiss your jawline, moving to your neck. “So fucking beautiful.”

“Oh Lord!”, you moan lightly, enjoying this new sentiment you’ve only got familiar from books. You play with his hair, wishing he’d go below with his lips.

Reading your thoughts as you know he does, Vader smirks:

“What do you want me to do?”, he asks you, showing how gentle he can be when one gets to his heart.

You like his firm grip of your thigh, how he lifts each to fit in between; how he teases you, even if you feel indecent for wishing… to know where this will lead you.

“Well?”, and here he tempts you. “Ler darkness flows in you, dear heart.”

You gasp in desire, but there is no need to say further when Vader removes your gown just by using the Force. You feel his rigid erection, wanting to feel it, but forgetting all about it when he says:

“Your nipples are so beautiful”, he draws his thumb over each, making you squirm. “You’ve thought about me doing it so, haven’t you? I will suck each, I promise you. I will fuck you slowly, you will not regret it.”

“Vader, you make me naughty!”, you find support in his shoulders, moaning insanely louder, forgetting where you are and your state.

“Then you’ll be punished”, he chuckles before slapping your bum.

And before you say anything else, his tongue is right where you want him to be: twirling around your nipples, taking a long time in each, biting it, playing with it as you moan louder and louder.

Vader doesn’t waste more time when he inserts his metallic finger in you, enjoying how soaked you are as he plays with your clit.

You throw your head back, burying your fingers in his neck and shoulders, loving to be in this state before such a man. And as he fastens his pace, you finally release all of your juices to his fingers.

“V-Vader!”, you pull him to you, lips clashing in one fervent kiss as you shake to your core.

He knows he could fuck you right there. As he takes hold of your face, watching you panting frantically, catching your breath, Vader knows you belong with him.

But he hears voices.

And despite himself, some part of him doesn’t find just to ruin you amidst these people. So he helps you dress.

“Did I do something wrong?”, you ask after adjusting yourself.

For the first time you spot his former true self rising. A shade of blue is spotted in his yellow eyes.

“We will have more time to enjoy ourselves, my dear. I fear I’m too fond of you to treat you wrongly.”

The way you smile leads him to think he shouldn’t have done it. But fuck it.

When you and him kiss, balance occurs and all is well that ends well with you two together.

[mayhemwrites]

to hold or to break

(or, 5 times Zoya almost said "I love you" and 1 time she did)

5 + 1 zoyalai fic for the @grishaversebigbang mini-bang event!!

read on ao3 here

materialki: @jmie-draws, who created this amazing art piece, and @soupdreamer, who created this amazing art piece!!!

Summary: Zoya is usually excellent at speaking her mind. Except, apparently, when it comes to telling Nikolai she loves him.

full fic under the cut!! angst/pining with a cute fluffy ending, 1966 words

-------------

Zoya is not going to think about how much she hates this. Because if she thinks about it, then she won't let it happen. She'll call the whole plan off, and that would be a disaster. She knows it would be a disaster. Nikolai has to get married, for the good of Ravka. He needs to make a strong alliance, especially with Fjerda threatening war. Especially with the demon as an ever present threat to his stability.

Knowing all of that doesn't stop her from hating it, though, so she writes up a list of all the people he should consider marrying, and brings it to him in his office. The quicker she gets this done, the less she has to think about it.

He's quick to veto half the names on her list (not because she deliberately picked outlandish suggestions, of course), but she stays firm on the others. However much she wants to forget about the list.

"You just don't want to go along with this," she tells him, and he shrugs in acknowledgement.

"Of course I don't."

So don't, then.

But he would never want her instead, even if he didn't need to marry for the good of Ravka. So she says nothing except: "You have to."

He shrugs again. "I'm aware. That doesn't mean I have to like it."

She nods. Both of them know the sacrifices that need to be made for a country. For Ravka.

He is sacrificing his freedom to marry the person of his choosing. In return, in that moment, she gives up her childish dream of him returning her secret love. Not that she's in love with him. There isn't any point. Not when he's agreed to court the remaining few women on her list.

-------------

She realizes that her plan to ignore her growing feelings for him has failed about a week into their journey across Ravka.

As she watches him charm some duke of some country town - she's stopped keeping track, at this point, because really, who can be bothered to learn the names of dozens of idiot men who hold a title simply because of their birth - and wishes, just for a second, that he would turn a fraction of that charm, just an inch of his dazzling grin, on her.

She pushes that down quickly enough, but it's the next morning that she stops being able to.

It's nothing special. They're sitting together, in a room of the duke's mansion (yes, a mansion, when the people living in this town have just had their third failed harvest in a row and are struggling to feed themselves). They're doing paperwork together, just as they always do. Nothing special.

So why does the way he catches her eye across a particularly tedious piece of legislation make it impossible for her to ignore the fluttering feeling in her stomach?

Honestly. Fluttering. She might as well be a teenager again, infatuated with the first man who paid her the slightest bit of attention.

But it's impossible to deny that she feels something for Nikolai, as futile as it is.

-------------

The night before Nikolai is due to attempt the obisbaya.

She almost says it, then.

She doesn't, though. Because if he survives, then he will still need to marry for the good of Ravka. And if he doesn't survive…

She's not thinking about what happens if he doesn't survive the ritual. There's a lot she's not thinking about. The list keeps building up, and she keeps pushing all her inconvenient, unwanted thoughts down. It never works for long, but she can hope.

Besides, in 24 hours she won't have to worry about whether Nikolai will survive the obisbaya. Either he will have survived, or he won't have. Whatever the outcome, there's nothing Zoya can do about it, so there's no point worrying.

That doesn't mean she doesn't want to say the words she's been pushing down for so long, though. As Elizaveta seals her in amber, she desperately wants to tell him that she has complete faith in him. Not just because she is a general and he is her king, but because she knows him. (Possibly better than anybody else does.) Because she knows that if anybody could survive a deadly ritual and not only that, but come out of it with his clothes uncreased and that damned crooked grin on his face - well, if anybody could manage that, it's Nikolai.

She doesn't say anything, in the end. She lets herself be sealed in amber for the final time, and watches as Nikolai begins the ritual.

-------------

Zoya looks out of the window of the carriage, trying to ignore the man sitting beside her. Why did she agree to this, again? She wishes Alina were less self-sacrificing. Then she wouldn't have to transport the Darkling across the country.

Her second cross-country trip in as many months. Except this time she's on her own. (Well, she has the Soldat Sol, but they hardly count as company.) No Tamar to spar with at rest stops, no Tolya to share comfortable silences with. No Nikolai.

No Nikolai this time, because he's at Genya and David's wedding. She should be there too, smiling up at her two closest friends from the front row of seats. But Ravka comes first. It always does. It has to.

So here she is, travelling across the country with the one person she hates more than anybody else, trying not to think about the boy she left behind in Os Alta.

-------------

Zoya is a fool. She knows this. Why had she said nothing?

(Because of Ravka. Because he wouldn't have said what he had said, if he'd known how miserably fucked-up she is. Because he undoubtedly regrets it now, so it's too late.)

The moment Nikolai leaves, she wants to curl up into a ball on the floor of the airship and sob like a heartbroken teenage girl. But she hasn't been one of those for six years now, and she doesn't intend to go back to the person she had been.

She runs through the list of reasons in her mind why he shouldn't choose her. He needs to marry for the good of Ravka. He deserves somebody who can love him wholly, not Zoya, scarred and afraid, who can barely admit that she does love him.

Saints, she loves him.

More than she has ever loved anybody, she loves him. More than she thought herself capable of loving anybody. She loves him in a way that makes her want to tear down the walls surrounding her heart and give it to him, to hold or to break. Like she had let him into her garden, she wants to let him into her heart, let him see all of her - the good, the bad, the horrifying, even the part of her that has not quite hardened into a soldier yet. (The part of her that is nine years old at the altar, thirteen years old and bleeding in the snow, nineteen years old frantically searching Novokribrisk for Liliyana, twenty-three years old standing at David's grave.)

And that is exactly why he can never know that he has even the slightest effect on her, because she is a general and he is her king, and she cannot afford to be acting like a lovesick teenager when Ravka is on the brink of war.

She certainly can't tell him that she loves him. Especially not now that she knows he loves her. She knows him well enough to guess that if he knew the truth, he would gladly damn Ravka for a singular promise of her love. So one of them has to be responsible about this.

She will let her heart shatter silently a hundred times over before she lets even a single crack appear in Ravka for her sake.

-------------

Zoya is fairly certain that the last twenty-four hours have been a dream. Something she hallucinated.

Since the early hours of the morning, she has: defeated the Fjerdan navy, rescued and reconciled with Nina Zenik, seen the Apparat almost torn to pieces by corpses, turned into a dragon, been hailed as a Saint by Ravkans and Fjerdans alike, seen Nikolai Lantsov give up his throne, become Queen herself, and perhaps most unbelievably, she has confessed her love to him and the world has not ended yet.

Quite the opposite, in fact. If she were one for grand romantic declarations, she might say that it feels as if her world is only just beginning.

It is six o'clock in the morning, and the sun is not even close to rising. Ordinarily, she would already be up at this hour. (So would Nikolai, not that she pays close attention to his daily routine - except no, now she can freely admit to doing so. He would probably find it endearing.)

But she is not up. She is not washed and dressed, or getting in some early-morning training before breakfast. She is not taking this excellent opportunity to work on the stacks of paperwork that are undoubtedly waiting for her.

Instead, she is still lying in bed, debating whether or not to wake Nikolai up. On one hand, they have things to be doing and he probably should be awake by now. On the other hand, she could stay here and watch his face, at peace for once, for ever.

This is why she hadn't wanted to confess her love for him - because her own greed to have as many moments of peace and domesticity with him would outweigh her sense of duty. Now that it's actually happening, though, she finds she doesn't mind in the slightest.

He takes the decision out of her hands, though, by waking up himself. The moment his eyes open, they land on her face and he breaks into a smile.

"I thought I might have dreamed you," he admits, and she has to laugh.

"Dreamt up my entire existence? Don't be ridiculous."

"You know what I meant," he says, his eyes never once leaving hers. (And she is not looking into his eyes, because that really would prevent any sort of productivity this morning.)

"I do, yes. You're fun to tease, though," she tells him just to see his cheeks turn faintly pink.

"So yesterday really happened?"

"Of course it did," she says. "Unless we both had the same very vivid dream, you did give me your throne and I did turn into a dragon."

"Good," he says, still smiling. "Because I nearly died yesterday. Three times, in fact. And yet it was still the best day of my life."

Her heart races. "You're being sentimental, Nikolai."

"Am I not allowed to be?"

"No, I'll allow it. If you must be."

"Indeed I must. And I have about three years' worth of sentimentality to get out, so prepare yourself."

She pretends to groan, but secretly, once again, she finds she doesn't mind at all.

"By all means continue to flatter me," she says. "In fact, if you must know, I welcome your sentimentality. However impractical it may be."

"I suspected as much," he says, now grinning that damned crooked smile of his. "Then may I continue?"

"You may," she says, heart beating even faster in anticipation of what he might say next.

"In which case: Zoya, are you aware that I am completely head-over-heels in love with you?"

She can't help smiling softly. "Yes, I was aware."

He pauses, raising an eyebrow at her. She knows what he wants to hear. Is this the moment she finally says it?

Yes, it must be. And now that the moment has arrived, the words feel less like an insurmountable obstacle, and more like the words she has been searching for her whole life.

"I love you too, Nikolai."

[defele]

Iris De Le Fe Human

Age: 36

Occupation: Part time at Harbor's Hearth 

Gender: Cisfemale

Pronouns: She/Her 

Face Claim: Ana De Armas

Bio

Iris is a happy person at heart, but most people would never know that these days. She grew up in Valle de Vinales, a small rural town with lush green fields. Iris’ mother had met her father while he was visiting Cuba, a passionate affair ensued and the result was baby Iris. 

Arlo, Iris’ father, hadn’t stuck around for her birth but he did visit every couple months. It wasn’t til later in life did Iris realize this was due to him having a wife elsewhere. 

Perhaps it was due to some kind of guilt from Arlo for not being involved in Iris’ life, but he paid a pretty penny for her to leave Valle de Vinales and pursue an education in Toronto, Canada. 

She studied journalism and criminal justice, which shaped her into an investigative journalist.

After graduating she delved further into local political problems and crime; at some point Iris had made a name for herself in the community. It wasn’t an easy job, many of the cases either kept her up late or haunted her dreams. Had it not been for the constant support of her editor Iris’ mental state would be in shambles.

He worked closely with her on each story, often working long hours alongside her; during this time Iris grew increasingly infatuated with him. After one frighteningly close call with death in the name of finding the truth, Iris went to him for comfort. The two spent the night together, it would be the only time they crossed this line between coworkers; after all, he was married.

Though he didn’t regret their night together, he was ashamed that he cheated. Iris understood, at this point she was no better than her father, but her feelings for him weren’t so easy to move on from. Tension grew between them, and as much as she hated to, she stopped going to him for aid. 

After a string of grim cases she had been looking into, and the news that her editor’s wife was pregnant, Iris’ became miserable and it was plain to see. During one of the rare lunches she had with her father, Arlo suggested she take a break. He offered up a small home he owned at Crestle Cove, he never used the place, primarily renting it out, but if she wanted she could stay there.

A week later Iris reluctantly packed up her things, and resigned from her job. A large part of her wanted to speak with her editor, see if they could work things out, but she knew this was wishful thinking; it had crushed her to do so, but Iris left Toronto without speaking a single word to him.

Wanted Connections

Friends With Benefits - Originally I saw this as a woman/fem presenting individual, but I’m really open to any gender! This relationship is purely for pleasure and a way for Iris to forget about her problems as well as glean some kind of comfort from another person. She doesn’t place too much importance on her relationship with this person and to call this person a friend would be pushing it, outside of the bedroom they do little talking– or at least, Iris doesn’t.

Someone With A Secret/Someone Who Needs Help - Her stay in Crestle Cove has helped improve her mental state a little, and it certainly more relaxing than watching a man you love impregnate someone else. However, Iris is a nosy person and misses digging up dirt on people. She could tell very quickly upon moving here that Crestle Cove is a place full of secrets, and despite her best efforts to just unwind, Iris can’t help but want to investigate some questionable events/people.

Supernatural Encounter - Iris had no knowledge of the supernatural upon moving to Crestle Cove. Imagine her surprise when a chance encounter with one of the town’s residents exposed her to the knowledge that there is a vast world of ethereal creatures. As someone who has always believed heavily in science and everything having a logical answer, Iris is still struggling to wrap her head around this discovery.

@crestlecovehq

[jedimaster3000]

Bien o Mal

Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Rating: 18+

Fluff, smut.

Warnings: Language, explicit smut.

Word count: 1.7k+

A/N: This was something short I had written some time ago and forgotten about it! It’s been long since I’ve written anything about Soulmates!Frankie so I read it and I thought it was acceptable? I don’t know, pardon the mistakes in here but I just wanted to share some writing because I haven’t in a long time. I do remember this was inspired in Trueno’s song “Bien o Mal” so I just named it that in its honor. Thank you for reading!

Soulmates Universe

———————————

Frankie always enjoyed looking at the moon at night. White and bright. The main character of the night. He was fascinated with her.

Some nights he couldn’t sleep without her. He tried to find her. She played hide and seek with him, behind some dark clouds that threatened to take away all that beauty he admired.

He didn’t remember when it started. Maybe in a mission, maybe as a kid. Maybe he was born with it. Maybe we are all born with an infatuation of some sort. We all are obsessed with something without knowing the reason why.

Maybe we all do things looking for different answers. Some of us play songs to understand the emotions we go through. Others write. The unfortunate ones don’t know what to do. The desperate ones look for answers in the sky.

The most interesting part is that somewhere in the middle of looking for and finding the answers tends to be the sweet, comfortable spot. Where the question is not as loud and the answers are not as scary.

Frankie wiggled in the blanket as his right hand rested on top of his chest. His heart beating slowly. He fixated on the beautiful, safe moon. The one with no questions and no answers for him. Endless beauty, endless wonder.

He had forgotten that it was past midnight, that you would arrive at any second. That he had left the back door of his house open. Frankie had forgotten what he was thinking about.

A man like him, a soldier, was not supposed to be familiar with forgetfulness. Quite the opposite, he should be focused and careful. The soldier inside him had started to walk in the opposite direction he was taught. And that he remembers, started the first day he saw you when he had just come back.

So many rules, so many “codes”. Everything broken with the simple sight of a pair of eyes and a sincere smile. It was all it took for him. To retrieve. To give in. Without any doubts, he gave in to you.

The first time you kissed him on his truck right in front of your house. The house you shared with another man. And he didn’t say no, he didn’t stop you. He gripped your body and held you closer. He was lost.

After that, the second time. The time you kissed again at his place. You were up on the kitchen counter, your legs around his hips. You had gripped his shirt so strongly and looked into his eyes. Kiss me, please. You had whispered. He could have never said no. Impossible. He was so lost.

Frankie was a good man. He was sure. His mother had said it so many times not to be true. But even good men make mistakes. He had laid in the same spot he was now. Thinking he should apologize, thinking he should step back. He had thought about it so many times. Walking away. Just saying goodbye. He couldn’t. He would always forget. The line between right and wrong would always vanish from his head once you entered it.

So he continued. Time and time again. He started touching you. Praising you. Bringing you so high you felt like you were in heaven with him. He treated you like no man ever could. He loved you. Loved everything about you.

Unbelievable. He really couldn’t stop. You were that place. The place between the questions and the answers. The blindspot between right and wrong. The safe zone. The moon. So bright and beautiful.

When you entered his backyard at almost one in the morning he smiled and stood on his forearms. You ran towards the grass and landed on him. Kissing him hungrily. Perfectly. Made for him.

His hands immediately snaked around your body and he pressed you tight to him. Forgetfulness all over again. No right or wrong. Just this. Just you on top of him.

“Hi, handsome,” you smiled on top of his lips and he giggled lowly.

“Beautiful liar you are, uh?” He said, pressing his lips to your neck.

Your fingers were buried in his hair as you felt him so close. You felt so good like this. So in place. Like a puzzle when you put the last piece in its place. The satisfaction was unmeasurable.

“Did you wait a long time?” You asked, getting off to lay on your side.

“I don’t know,” his hand rested on your hip, “I don’t remember.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “What were you thinking about?”

“I don’t know, I don’t remember,” he repeated.

But his face was not one to worry about. He looked peaceful and rested. A subtle smile. So pretty. You involuntarily caressed his cheek so you could feel the dimple there.

“You’re okay then?” You asked.

He sighed, content, “Yes,” he said, “Yes, I am.”

As you truly smiled this time, it all happened again. Like the first time. He kissed you just in time before you did so. Everything vanished around the two of you. It was you, him, and the moon giving you light in the middle of the night.

He helped you climb into his lap. Lazily. His hands went under your dress. His hands laid on your thighs as he continued to devour you with his kiss. The softness in his touch contrasting with the fierceness of his mouth. His teeth pulled your lip as you whined and he felt harder in his pants.

You felt it too. Pressing your thighs around him. You tried to contain it. To soothe yourself. To stay calm. You had a couple of hours on the clock. But everything happened so quickly with him. As you thought about it, he already had your right nipple inside his mouth.

“Yes,” you whispered, gripping his locks.

He looked up at you. Your eyes closed and mouth opened in pleasure. Such a perfect woman. The sounds you made. Begging. Always for more. The way you felt. Grabbing his hair and pressing your pussy to his covered cock, you were so desperate just like him. It made him all the crazier about you.

His left hand massaged your ass. His tongue circling your taut nipple. You whine again. And again. He was so hard.

“Frankie…” you pleaded.

His hand traveled to the front, just next to your covered pussy. You felt the anticipation build. The shocks starting just from it. So ready for him. But he wanted to hear you say it. Ask for it.

His mouth abandoned your nipple.

“Yes, baby?” He asked.

So close to touching you, yet he didn’t. You whined. Protesting. You pressed yourself more onto his cock.

He giggled again and you finally opened your eyes.

“Stop it,” you said, holding the back of his head.

“Say it,” he said, but couldn’t stand for long, “Please say it.”

You pulled his hair back so that his face would be just under yours. The moonlight showing you everything. His handsome features. You stayed an inch from his mouth. Looking right into his eyes.

“Fuck me,” you whispered into his mouth and kissed him once, “Fuck me like I know you want to…”

Your right hand went down to touch his covered dick. You could tell he was so ready. Probably leaking already.

“Please, Frankie. I want you.”

And when you tried to kiss him, he couldn’t help it. He turned you around. Getting on top. Hungry, ready. His left hand moved your underwear to the side while his right got his cock out of his pants.

His fingers felt through your slit once, just to check. Wet. Soaking. All for him. You begged again.

He gave in.

His cock filled you completely, bottoming out. He stayed there just a second. Just to breathe. To breathe you in. Eyes drooping and skin glowing in the dim light. You looked goddess-like. Forbidden.

He started to move in and out of you while you continued to beg. To ask for more. Saying his name. Moaning and groaning. Laying just for him. Every stroke touched that spongy place inside you that had you losing your mind.

You put a hand to his hand and he slowed down.

“Keep going,” you breathed, “I need more, please Frankie, please.”

“Fuck,” he pushed, “Perfect woman, fuck-fucking perfect…”

He lowered down to kiss you once more when you almost screamed. He drank it in. Savoring it. Pushing further inside of you. Taking you higher.

“You gonna come for me?”

“Yes yes yes,” you replied, “I’m so close.”

“Come on baby, I got you.”

He grabbed your waist as he angled just like you enjoyed it the most. And your nails dug into his neck. Just one more stroke. You fell apart in his hands. Almost sobbing from all the pleasure. Praying his name.

He pressed a soft kiss to your mouth as you whined again. Smiling, you sighed and opened your eyes.

He knew it was his time to come. He couldn’t wait any longer. Those eyes. Those beautiful eyes. Enchanting. Calling him in.

“Wher-“

“Inside,” you said.

He spilled everything inside you with a groan. His eyes closed. One hand clutching your dress. Probably stained now. He breathed in and out. Slowly coming down from his high.

Frankie stood up a little, trying to come back to earth. He opened his eyes to find you looking right at him. A pretty smile and satisfied eyes glowing in the white light, your skin so pliable and warm. He never stood a chance.

He suddenly felt shy, going red at the feeling and he wiped his forehead.

“Was that okay?” He touched your dress, “Sorry I think I got this dirty I… that was wrong of me I’ll-“

He was interrupted by your laugh. Entertained by his cuteness. Right after fucking the life out of you. Small and cute.

“Fuck you, Morales,” you smiled, “You know right and wrong don’t exist between us.”

His heart stopped.

Those times he asked himself if what he was doing with you was okay came for a second. Flashed through his mind. But they never left quicker than when he saw that look in your eyes. Moonlight.

He is just another man. He’s a good man. It’s okay, it’s all okay. It’ll work out in the end. He just needs to find the answers in the sky.