#like yes please tickle me until i concede

[dreamingticklee]

if you teasingly ask me "are we gonna do this the easy way or the hard way?" of course im gonna choose the hard way lol 😌🙈

[luv4freddie]

Aerophobia (fear of flying)

Your fear of flying had kept you off a broom ever since first year, but dating Oliver Wood was bound to fix that. 575 words, fluffy mini story

“Please doll?”

You’d been very adamant about one thing in your time at Hogwarts, and it was that you would not be getting on a broom.

Your first year flying lessons had been a very unfortunate experience, with the amount of falling and bumping into other students you did it was a miracle they even let you finish the class.

And ever since then you’d sworn off getting on one of those cursed cleaning tools.

A relatively easy ban, until you ended up dating Oliver Wood— someone who might actually spend more time on his broom than on his feet.

One thing led to another, and now here you are, with your boyfriend giving you his pretty puppy eyes and a broom hovering next to him.

“I told you-”

“I know,” he says, familiar with your objections, “but your wonderful boyfriend is here and he’s an amazing flyer and he promises to not let you fall off.”

“He’s also talking in third person, which is weird,” you mumble.

Oliver laughs, but he recognizes that you’ve given up.

He holds the broom horizontally and lets you climb on, before climbing on behind you.

He’s reaching around you to hold his hands in front of you so that you’re trapped, his arms acting like the bumper rails you’ve seen at muggle bowling alleys.

“Relax,” he whispers, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.

“Just go before I change my mind.” You state, gritting your teeth in nervousness.

He lets out another chuckle but kicks off anyway, and you screw your eyes shut as a gust of wind hits you in the face.

The broom stabilizes in the air, and you wait to feel him take off zooming, but he never does.

You cautiously open one eye, squinting around at your surroundings.

You’re hovering about ten feet in the air— not moving.

“Ollie?” You have to speak up to be heard, as you’re too scared of shifting the broom to turn his way.

“Yes love?”

“Why aren’t we moving?”

“Do you want to?”

“I just thought you would.” You risk the small movement of shrugging your shoulders, and you can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks again.

“I’ll move, but you can’t close your eyes, deal?”

“I don’t know…”

He lifts one of his hands off the broom to offer his pinky to you, but you let out a squeal, leaning your back further into his chest.

“Oliver Wood you put your hand back on this broom right now!”

He laughs, “make the deal then.”

You let out a groan, still pushing further into him, and decide that anything is better than falling off the broom.

“Fine. Deal. I’m not moving my hand though.”

He places his hand back on the broom in front of you, at the same time placing a kiss on your cheekbone.

“Good answer.”

You brace for the broom to take off, clutching the handle tighter but keeping your part of the deal up— your eyes stay trained directly in front of you.

Oliver moves one hand further up and the broom gives a small lurch forward.

You hear him laugh at the squeal you let out, but you’re moving much slower and less aggressively than Oliver usually is on his broom, and your fear starts to drain as he continues to gently move the broom forward.

“Look, you can see the courtyard over there,” his voice is calm in your ears, and you excitedly look over.

“I see it! Look! Do you think that’s Fred and George?” You question, pointing to your left at two ant sized figures with red hair.

“Might be.” He hums, trying not to point out your sudden confidence as your hand moves again, pointing at something else.

Five minutes later and you’re back on solid ground, Oliver helping you off the broom with a satisfied grin on his face.

“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” He teases.

“I guess not,” you concede, popping up to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“What’s that for?” He asks, although he’s already got a smug smile on his face.

“For taking such good care of me.”

He grabs your hand, interlacing your fingers and placing a sweet kiss on your knuckles while leading you back to the castle, his other hand holding the broom.

“I’ll always take care of you.”

[southerngothicchic]

18+

"I don't know how much longer I can wait..." Steve breathily begins, leaning in close. "I need to fuck you, gorgeous."

His body presses yours against the passenger door, of his car. The cool glass that meets your back is a welcome reprieve as your skin's on fire. A slight gasp falls from your parted lips as his large hand cradles your face.

"Its all I can think about," he continues, his lips now teasing yours.

You think he's about to kiss you, as your eyes close in anticipation. Instead, his lips are now at your ear.

"I just know you'll feel so fuckin' good..."

His breath tickles your skin, forcing you to sigh weakly. He smiles then presses his lips to the sensitive skin just below your ear. He trails kisses down your neck while his other hand tightens its hold on your waist.

"Steve..." you finally breathe, the smallness of your voice startling you.

"You've thought about it too, haven't you, honey?" He asks, smug. "Those nights all alone, in your room, dreaming of me between your legs..."

You whimper, grateful he couldn't see your face.

"Don't even try to deny it," he warns, as his eyes now meet yours.

His gaze is dark, lustful, and it makes you even weaker for him.

You nod, further pleasing him. He flashes a quick grin before finally pressing his lips to yours. It's pathetic how you melt into his kiss. He sucks your plump bottom lip between his teeth, eliciting the sweetest moan he's ever heard.

His knee spreads your legs apart, as his hand slips between you. Your calves are pushed against the car as he presses more of his weight against you. You gasp as you feel his fingertips glide up your inner thigh. His touch combined with the chilly night air makes you shiver.

"Are you cold, honey? Don't worry, I'll warm you up," he purrs, in between kisses.

He dips his middle finger into your panties, relishing in your arousal.

"Mmm, I'm tempted to just fuck you right here..." he breathes, while you look at him, wide eyed.

"You can't-"

"I know," he concedes, "but I can still have a little fun..."

You gasp his name when he pushes two fingers inside you.

"God, you're fucking soaked," he says, louder than he should've, as he pumps them in and out.

Your hands reach for whatever they can find and settle on his shoulders.

"How's it feel, angel?" He asks, lips against your flushed cheek.

"G-Good, so good," you breathe, already losing yourself in him.

"Better than your little fingers?"

You nod. "Yes, so much better, fuck..."

His grin returns as he presses wet kisses to your cheek.

The lewd sounds from his fingers fucking into you fill your ears, along with his little grunts.

"You want me to take you home and fuck you until the sun comes up?" He asks, panting into your mouth.

"Yes, Steve, please," you whine, your hand now curling in his hair.

You pull slightly as he pushes his fingers even deeper, making him moan.

"You're so fucking sexy, you know that? Letting me touch you like this in public..."

His praise is all it takes for you to give him what he wants. You coat his fingers while pulling him into a sloppy kiss. He thinks he's about to burst out of his jeans as he keeps fucking you with his fingers. He stops when you reach down to grab his wrist.

"Ok, angel," he pants, pulling his hand out from under your dress.

He pulls away to place his fingers between his lips and lick them clean. His eyes flutter closed at your taste.

"Fuck..." he breathes, when his eyes meet yours.

You just gaze at each other, still in a dreamy haze, before he nuzzles his nose against yours.

"You wanna go home now, honey?"

"Yeah," you quietly say, now lightly combing your fingers through his hair.

He then presses a soft, lingering kiss to your lips before opening the door and helping you get inside. He smiles to himself as he walks around to the driver's side. He can't wait to give you a night you'll never forget. A night that will only leave you begging for more.

[rynneer]

Misty Memories Cold

When you wake in Fíli’s bed with no recollection of anything after an accident in Mirkwood, he’s ready to risk anything, even his uncle’s wrath, to bring back what you had together.

<< Beginning | < Previous

Chapter 8

“I don’t think I’ll ever move again,” Fíli declares. You watch through the mirror as he falls backwards onto the bed.

It’s not the fanciest of rooms, furnished with just the large bed, a vanity, and a bedside table with tray of fruit and a bottle of wine. Not quite fit for visiting royalty, but Fíli, sinking ever deeper into the plush mattress, doesn’t seem to mind. “These are definitely better accommodations than the last time we were here.”

“Oh?” you ask, standing from the vanity as you run a comb through your hair. “And what were those accommodations like?”

“Cold, hard, cramped… a typical dungeon. But it wasn’t all bad.” Fíli sits up, leaning back on his elbows and watching you through half-closed eyes. “I remember it quite fondly, in fact.”

“Seriously? Why?”

Fíli smiles. “That’s when I first said I love you.” He stands and closes the distance between you, gently stroking your cheek. “It’s where we had our first kiss. I must say, you were quite aggressive about it,” he adds with a chuckle. He closes his hand around yours and places the comb back on the counter, running his fingers through your hair instead.

“Me?!” you exclaim in mock indignation, struggling to hold back a smile.

“Yes, you!” he laughs. “You yanked me in by the collar! I would have been more gentle. Like this.” Fíli cups your face in his hands, bringing his lips down to meet yours in soft yet hungry kisses, over and over again.

You let out a small whine as you stand on your toes and wrap your arms around his neck. “Fíli…” The playful mood vanishes, replaced with desperation.

His calloused hands leave your face, ghosting down your neck, your chest, your waist, finally resting on your hips. “You’re wearing one of my tunics, you little thief,” Fíli mutters, pulling away to smirk at you. His fingers dance along the hem of your stolen nightwear, tickling your skin. “I’d quite like it back.”

You’re still breathless from his kisses, barely drawing in enough air to reply. “Take it.”

It’s all the encouragement he needs. Fíli slips his hands under the tunic, sliding it up and over your head. He takes half a step back, eyes running up and down his wife’s figure. “Mahal, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs as he takes you in his arms once more. “I’ve missed this.” He plants gentle kisses down your scarred cheek until he reaches your neck. His bristly beard rasps against your sensitive skin, the prickling immediately soothed by the cool metal of his beads. “I’ve missed you.”

You whine his name again and tug at the front of his nightshirt. Fíli pauses just long enough to let you undo the buttons and toss it aside. He swiftly pushes you down onto the bed, covering you with his warm, heavy body. His mouth returns to yours and he lets out a deep growl of approval, tongue running along your bottom lip.

You part your lips to grant his request, but a low groan from the neighboring room makes you freeze. Fíli sits up. You prop yourself up on your elbows, barely breathing.

Another groan, louder this time, ending in a sharp cry. “Tauriel… Tauriel, please…”

You and Fíli lock eyes, your disbelief reflected on his face. “Is that… is that Kíli?” you whisper.

Fíli drops back down onto you with a huff and buries his face in the sheets next to your head. “Trust my little brother to ruin the mood.”

“I don’t know,” you snicker, “it sounds like they’re having a great time.”

“Should I go tell them to be quiet?”

“And spoil their fun? That’d be cruel!”

“They spoiled ours!” Fíli protests, lifting his face from the sheets. But his annoyed expression melts away as his eyes sweep over your body again. “I suppose we can ignore them for a little while,” he concedes, resting his forehead against yours. “Now, where were we?”

His knee lands between your thighs to part them, but you wince in pain when his leg brushes against your bandaged calf. Fíli immediately withdraws. “Did I hurt you?”

“It’s just my leg. I’m fine,” you say through gritted teeth. The bandage is warm to the touch and slightly swollen.

“Maybe we should just get some rest instead,” Fíli suggests. He plants a quick kiss on your forehead when he sees the disappointment on your face. “We’ll have plenty of time for this later.” Fíli leans over the side of the bed and retrieves his tunic, slipping it back over your head. As his head hits the pillow, he lets out a long sigh, then opens up his arm to you.

You oblige, curling up against his side and laying your head on his chest. His arm around you is tight and warm, his heartbeat steady in your ear. You lie still for a while, then lift your head. “Do you think he’s on top or bottom?”

“Y/N! That is my brother!” Fíli scolds you, pushing your head back down. But you feel him holding his breath, listening closely. “Oh, he’s definitely on the bottom.”

The Company is ahead of you. You do not recognize these mountains. It is dark. It is cold. You are falling behind.

Someone near the back pauses. They turn and call your name. Pick up the pace, they say.

You open your mouth to reply. The words come slowly. They feel foreign on your tongue. Slow down, let me catch up. Trudging through the snow, your feet grow heavy. The snow traps your ankles like thick mud. It refuses to let you move.

The Company grows distant. Wait! you cry. Please, I’m stuck!

They do not hear you. You manage to free a foot and take one step. Another step. You collide with an invisible wall.

You can barely see the Company now.

Help! Please, don’t leave me! You bang your first on the wall.

They do not hear you.

Did they ever hear you?

Were you ever really there?

Morning comes with a firm knock on your door. “The king awaits,” a voice announces.

You groan and bury your face in Fíli’s neck.

Fíli chuckles and gently tugs at your hair. “Come on, love. Time to get up.” He slides his arm out from underneath you and sits up, ignoring your protests as he abandons the bed.

A wave of dizziness washes over you when you sit up. You brace an arm against the headboard and squeeze your eyes shut, trying to stop the world from spinning around you.

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” You wave away Fíli’s concern and take a few steadying breaths.

His eyes continue to track you as you dress, not at all convinced by your dismissal. He takes note when you press your hand against your mouth, trying to push down a sudden surge of nausea. He sees your slight limp as you avoid putting weight on your injured leg. His brow furrows, but he remains quiet. You’d tell him if you felt ill, he reassures himself. But even so, he takes your arm and lets you lean on him, just barely, as you follow your escort to the Elvenking’s throne room.

Fíli seems thoroughly unimpressed with the woodland elves’ halls. You, however, marvel at the grand staircases, the walkways carved from stone, all illuminated by bright torchlight. Your escort ushers you through a large set of doors, giving you a small nod. Tauriel moves smoothly to walk in front of you, shoulders back and head high.

You tighten your grip on Fíli’s arm as you approach the throne, eying Thranduil warily.

“Manners, Y/N,” he whispers, freeing himself from your hand and bowing slightly to the king. You follow suit, then grab his arm again.

Thranduil reclines in his seat, tilting his head curiously. “The princes and princess of Erebor,” he muses with narrowed eyes. “It must truly be an important matter if the King Under the Mountain is willing to send his heirs.” His eyes flick to Tauriel. “You have returned early, and without your charges.”

She dips her head. “I would not have returned so quickly if I did not believe this to be serious, my lord.”

“Continue, then.”

Tauriel closes her eyes for a moment as if gathering herself. “Princess Y/N suffers from an ailment of the mind. I believe it to be magic in nature—magic borne of Mirkwood.”

The king raises an eyebrow. “And what sort of ailment troubles her?”

“It was that stupid stream,” Kíli interjects. “It…”

You’re dizzy again, darkness creeping in at the edges of your vision. Kíli is still talking, but his voice sounds strangely far away. Your grip on Fíli’s arm tightens as you struggle to stay upright.

Fíli notices immediately. He takes a few steps back, putting Tauriel between you and Thranduil. “What’s wrong?”

“Just a little dizzy,” you say. The darkness fades with a few blinks. “It’ll pass.”

The prince frowns and pulls you to the side of the room, evidently trusting his brother and Tauriel enough to plead your case themselves.

“You’re keeping something from me. Out with it,” he orders. He fixes you with a stern look, one he surely learned from watching his uncle.

You squirm a bit under his gaze, then sigh. “Fine. I’ve had a few dizzy spells today. And some nausea. But it’s nothing, I promise,” you insist.

Fíli opens his mouth to speak, brows set low, but a whisper from Kíli interrupts him.

“Get back here!” he hisses. “This is about you!”

Fíli nods curtly at his brother, shooting you a look that tells you he’s not finished with this subject yet. He shakes his head slightly at Tauriel as she raises a brow in question.

“So, you have run afoul of the powers of Mirkwood,” Thranduil fixes his full attention on you. “And you come seeking aid.”

“Can you help us?” Your voice comes out stronger than you expected.

“No.”

Silence descends upon the room as the four of you stare at the king, stunned.

It’s Kíli who jumps in first. “Can’t help,” he begins with a growl, “or won’t?”

Tauriel brushes her fingers against his arm. A warning, and a gesture that does not go unnoticed by Thranduil.

“I will forgive your insolence this time, Prince Kíli,” he replies slowly. “But I would advise you against testing my patience further. We cannot provide the help your princess needs,” he continues. “The magic of Mirkwood runs deep. It is an old magic, and not ours to command. It would be an extraordinary healer indeed who could cure whatever ails you, if it is even possible. You will not find such a healer in these lands.”

Your shoulders slump and tears sting your eyes. So that’s it, then. A year of your life, gone forever. The memories of Fíli’s confession of love, of your wedding, of your first time together, all whisked away like spider silk in the breeze.

“Extraordinary healer…” Fíli mutters, brow creased in thought. “What about Elrond? Could he do it?”

All eyes turn to him. Even Thranduil is caught by surprise. “I suppose… if you really mean to pursue this… I will not stop you. But remember,” he suddenly leans forward, looking at you intently as he continues, “interfering with old magic is a dangerous game, daughter of Man. You would do well to remember your place in this world. Do not forget where you come from.”

Beside you, Fíli bristles, but you simply nod. “That’s it, then. Rivendell. Thank you, Your Highness.” You dip your head to Thranduil. “We’ll, uh, we will take our leave then.”

Thranduil nods, waving a hand to dismiss you. Tauriel and Kíli waste no time in heading for the door, the she-elf striding with purpose. Your hand closes around Fíli’s as you quickly follow, fighting the urge to run straight to Rivendell this very second. Rivendell! A beacon of hope and safety, a chance to reclaim your life!

“Tauriel.”

She halts, turning back to her king. “Yes, my lord?”

“You are released from my service.” Thranduil rubs his forefinger and thumb together idly, tone light, as if he had merely remarked on the weather.

Tauriel stands frozen. It takes a few tries before the words come out. “My lord?” she manages.

“It is clear that you have cast your lot with the dwarves. You are released from the service of Mirkwood.” Thranduil looks directly at her, the casual mask dropping away, eyes sharp as flint. “You may go now.”

It’s as if her feet have taken on roots. Tauriel’s mouth opens and closes silently, her carefully maintained composure slipping away with each passing second. Tears shimmer in the corners of her eyes.

“Come on, Taur,” Kíli murmurs. He laces his fingers with the elf’s, gently pulling her from the hall. “It’s not worth it. Let’s go.”

Tauriel stumbles slightly, but lets him lead her through the winding corridors to your twin set of guest chambers. Each step is stiff, her eyes staring into the distance.

“Will she be okay?” you whisper to Kíli as he ushers the elf into his room. His only reply is a grimace and a shrug before he shuts the door.

You sigh as you enter your own room, your excitement for the next step of your quest nearly forgotten. You join Fíli as he sits on the edge of the bed, plucking at the dark red duvet.

“So,” he says at last, clearing his throat. “Rivendell?”

Leaning against him wearily, you nod. “Rivendell.”

It didn’t take long for the elves to come for you once you woke.

You lay with your head in Fíli’s lap, both a little tired after the… excitement of your mutual confessions. He dragged his fingers through your hair, a lazy smile pulling at his lips as he imagined all the beautiful braids he would weave into it. Braids, beads, clips, ties, all showing the world that you were his.

You opened your eyes halfway, chuckling at his expression. “I never expected the lion prince of Durin’s folk to be so soft,” you teased. You reached up and tugged at his mustache playfully.

“Only for you, amrâlimê.” He kissed his fingers and pressed them against your lips.

Sitting up, you leaned in expectantly. “A real kiss, please,” you requested, closing your eyes in anticipation. Fíli answered with a soft peck on the lips.

Across the hallway, Bofur shook his head in amusement. “Regular pair o’ lovebirds, the two of you,” he laughed. “Careful lad, keep that up and she’ll be mounting you before you know it!” His remark drew chuckles from the other dwarves in earshot, and an eye-roll from Kíli.

Fíli draped his arm over your shoulder and rested his head against yours. “They’ll be insufferable once we’re out of here. I’m sure it won’t take long?” He gave you a questioning glance, but you pressed your lips together tightly and shook your head. No spoilers. “Worth a shot,” he mumbled with a shrug.

You pushed his head off of yours and leaned into him. “I’m tired,” you murmured.

“If I let you go to sleep, how will I know you’ll wake again?”

“If you try to wake me up, I’ll smack you.”

“I suppose that would work.”

You smiled, sinking down and further nestling into his side, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of another person for the first time in so long. He adjusted his arm around you and stroked his thumb up and down your arm as you drifted off.

You kept your word, swatting away the hand gently squeezing your shoulder. “Geddoff,” you grumbled.

“I suggest you try a little harder to wake her,” a dry voice remarked.

You cracked an eye open. A shadow loomed over the two of you, belonging to a tall redhead. Tauriel’s guard uniform was neat, not a single crooked seam, no hair out of place. It contrasted starkly with the dwarves’ worn-out clothing you’d grown used to seeing.

“Up. You have an audience with the king.”

“I didn’t ask for one,” you muttered as you untangled yourself from Fíli and stood. You dusted yourself off and ran a hand through your hair to straighten it. She turned the key in the lock and pulled open the door, motioning for you to follow her.

Fíli stood as well, but she quickly shut the door again. It nearly hit him in the face.

“Just her,” she said.

Fíli squared his shoulders and fixed the elf with a glare.

You reached back through the bars to squeeze his arm. “I’ll be fine,” you reassured him.

“If they do anything to you–”

“They won’t, Fee.” You cut him off firmly but offered one last squeeze before moving to follow Tauriel through the winding halls.

“Y/N!” A relieved call echoed through the hall.

Thorin!

Another guard was escorting the dwarf back toward his cell on the lowest level. Thorin jerked his shoulder away from the elf. “Can a dwarf not have a moment to comfort his frightened ward?” he demanded with a glare.

The elf hesitated, then halted with a sigh.

Ward? As you approached, he reached out and folded you into an embrace, startling you. “The others?” he whispered in your ear, dropping his act.

“They’re alright.”

“Baggins?”

“Don’t worry about him.”

“How long here?”

“A few weeks.”

Thorin sighed and pulled away, then paused. “I’m glad to see you awake.” He offered you a brief, small, real smile, before his guard whisked him away.

Tauriel raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. She guided you to walk next to her as you entered the throne room. Tauriel bowed to the king and moved off to the side. “My lord.”

Your heart hammered in your chest and your hands shook slightly as Thranduil stared down at you. You quickly hid them behind the back. That damned headache began pulsing in time with your heartbeat.

“You are a strange one,” he said, rising from the throne and approaching you. The king circled you slowly, head tilted. “You are no dwarf…” With each word, he took another long step. “And yet too tall for a hobbit.”

Step. Step. Step.

“Then you must be a daughter of Man—ah, but you are so small.” Thranduil came to a stop back in front of you. He bent over to look you in the eye. “How curious.”

You did your best to hold eye contact, but his gaze was too intense. Your eyes dropped to the ground.

Thranduil straightened back up. “Perhaps you will be more willing than your leader to share the purpose of your journey?” Again, he circled you. “Perhaps we could find more suitable accommodations for a lady. Finer clothing, finer food. Safe passage home, even.”

Your stomach growled at just the mention of food. It would be so easy… a bed to soothe the aches from sleeping on stone… maybe even a bath… But you shook away the thought as you pictured the betrayed faces of the Company, of Fíli. No, you would not be bought by luxury. “I’m not telling you anything.”

“Such loyalty,” he tutted. “But why? They are not your people.”

“They’re the closest I’ve got,” you shot back.

Your sudden defiance seemed to amuse the Elvenking, who chuckled. He turned back to his throne and waved a hand lazily. “You may go.”

“Wait, that’s all?” Did he really summon you just to stare at you and bribe you?

“That is all. If you will say nothing, you are of no use to me. Tauriel, please.”

“Yes, my lord.” The she-elf escorted you from the room, swiftly guiding you back to your cell.

Fíli leapt to his feet when he saw you, gripping the bars of the door. “Y/N!” He ran his hands down your sides as Tauriel returned you to your little cave. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you?”

You gently pushed his frantic hands away. “I’m okay.” With a huff, you sat down against the wall. You crossed your arms. “They called me small.”

“Well…” Fíli sat down next to you. “…you are small, my love.”

You looked over at him briefly, deflating. “I don’t like this,” you sighed, resting your chin on your knees and wrapping your arms around your legs.

Fíli nudged your head with his own affectionately. “I think you’re perfect,” he offered. “You fit just right in my arms.” To emphasize his point, he pulled at your arm to uncurl you and bring you into his lap.

You allowed him to arrange you in a more comfortable position, resting your head on his shoulder. You closed your eyes in hopes of resuming your interrupted nap.

“…Y/N?” Fíli’s quiet voice made you stir. “May I ask you something?”

“Mmph,” you mumbled.

The blonde prince hesitated, finally clearing his throat. “Would you… if you could choose… would you… stay? Here? With us?”

Something told you he wasn’t referring to your little cell. You drew back, taking your time with an answer as you stared at him. The pink lips, chapped but soft. Little strands of straw-colored hair sticking out of his braids. How his forehead creased in worry as you remained silent.

It’d been at least six months since the unexpected party at Bag End. Memories of your home flashed through your head, making your heart ache.

But had you ever felt such fierce affection before? You were already in Middle Earth. Would it really be so terrible to just… stay?

Finally, you leaned back in and wound your arms around his neck. With a content sigh, you buried your face against his skin. “Yeah,” you murmur. “I think I could stay.”

And the headache faded.

[redhead1180]

https://pin.it/6PAs5hbD9. Tell me why this looks like the look he gives you right before he’s about to tickle the absolute shit out of you or after he’s teased you incessantly and now you’ve confessed your feelings lol . Perhaps tickling your feet until you confessed your feelings . Anyway story ?

Hey sweetie my tickle anon is back 🤗🤭 ok, I gotchu boo. So it started all cute and funny and end with lots of fluff. Hope you like it.

"JJ, why are you looking at me like that" I question raising an eyebrow.

"Don't know what you're talking about baby" JJ says nonchalantly, "I'm just looking at my future girlfriend"

"HA!" I scoff "we have been through this JJ, your are not my type. Your every other girl's type on this island, but not mine* I huff out as I turn around back to the kitchen counter at the chateau .

Now truthfully, I did really like JJ, but he scared me. He was a player who left girls crying. I did not want to be one of them. And even though he had not stopped teasing, flirting, and being a complete menace, I didn't think he was really serious. Besides he has always said he wasn't the girlfriend type, so I hid my feelings.

He snuck up behind me and placed his hands on my waist.

"Please understand that what I am about to do was out of necessity" he whispers huskily in my ear.

Before I could respond, he grabbed my waist and started tickling me. I jumped and yelled "NO JJ!" as I tried to slide away. I was really pinned in and could not go anywhere. The counter in front of me, JJ behind me and his arms on either side.

"STOP JJ" I laugh, trying to pull his hands from waist.

"Not until you admit you like me" JJ chuckled.

"I don't...*laughs*....like you...*squeals*....THAT way!" I finally pant out laughing uncontrollably. I'm trying to push his hands away, using my butt to try and push him back, anything to get free.

"Yes you do" he grunts out "just admit it."

"JJ I'm gonna pee my pants"

"Well tell me you like me or just pee your pants" he laughs

"I.... STOP... JJ... NO... IM SERIOUS... JJ" I try to demand, but it just comes out weak from laughing. I didn't want to admit, but he was right. But I was going to seriously pee my pants and JJ would keep doing it until I did.

"ALRIGHT... STOP... YES... OK... YES... I DO LIKE YOU" I yelled at him, giving him a hard shove with my butt, as he stops. "You happy now, yes I do like you"

He turns me around and gently rubs the areas he was just tickling. I keep my head down, not wanting to look at him. He places his finger under my chin to pull my head up, but I jerk my head away, with a whine, and look at the side. He grabs my chin now and forces me to look at him. I close my eyes, now that I was facing him, still not wanting to look at him.

"Open your eyes" he demands gently.

Knowing I didn't have a choice, I take a deep and shaky breath, and open my eyes. He is so close to my face, our noses are nearly touching, I can see the little freckles on his nose from the sun. His ocean blue eyes are staring back at me intently. I waited for the teasing to come.

"I like you too" he says softly. I suck in a breath a little shocked.

"JJ, you've always said you didn't want a girlfriend and have never taken a girl seriously." I rasp out, "How do I know you won't get bored of me like you do every other girl?

"Fair point" he concedes "Your the only girl I've ever had my eyes on, but I was afraid to ruin our friendship. I- I know you're scared, hell so am I, but I really, really, like you and have for awhile. I want you to be my girlfriend, I want you. And I can guarantee that I am not gonna get bored with you."

I've known JJ forever and knew when he was lying, he wasn't. He was nervous, but he wasn't lying. I gently cupped his face and leaned in to softly kiss him. He gasped, and I felt his arms wrap around my waist pulling me close. He tapped his tongue on my lips and I opened up for him. We both moaned as our tongues danced for dominance. I eventually let him win and he angled my head to deep end the kiss. My arms went around his neck and one hand rant my fingers thru his hair. Our bodies were melded together as we literally tried to devour each other.

I needed air and pulled my head back gasping. He looked at me with a mischievous smile.

"Is that a yes" he cocks up an eyebrow and grins.

"Fuck.. yes it's a yes" I chuckle.

"Woah hoo" he screams as he picks me up and spins us around. I laugh and bury my head in his neck.

[romanoffsbish]

… No It’s Not

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!StarkReader

TW: Planned Death

Y/N's POV

I slept for maybe four hours while holding Nat before I felt the urge to get up.

I can sleep when I'm dead.

It's 7AM, so I'm going to make Nat's favorite breakfast and bring it to her in bed.

—————

"Good morning my love!" I say while gently shaking her a bit

"No. Lay down!" She groans

"Baby, I've been up for a bit. I've got breakfast for us." I say trying to coax her awake

"Sh..."

"French. Toast." I whisper those two words into her ear and suddenly she's wide awake

"You should've led with that!"

"So sorry my gentle pet names aren't enough for you. I'll bribe you with different breakfast foods from now on, is that what you want?" I question with an eye roll

"Yes! Exactly. Glad you understand"

"Just hush up and eat!"

Nat's POV

Y/N just took our dishes to the kitchen so I am just patiently waiting for her to return.

"Five minutes? That's too long! Be faster. Now come give me cuddles please."

"Baby, five minutes is plenty fast enough to go to the kitchen and back" she retorts back

"Not to me when I'm in need of cuddles!" I whine back at her with a pouty lip trying to make her feel guilty

"I'm so sorry. I'll do better in the future" she sarcastically lets out while jumping in bed with me. She snuggles into me and I can tell she didn't sleep well.

"Baby, we don't leave until like 3PM, take a nap. You look so tired after last nights events." I tease but am also being completely serious

"No, I want to spend all the time with you" she tries to argue back

"Sleeping in my arms is spending it with me. I'll set an alarm for 10AM. That gives us two bonus snuggle hours. Please!" I all but beg

"Fine..."

—————

"Wake up sleepy head!" I say as it's now my time to wake her up. I didn't sleep a wink. I just spent two glorious hours watching her sleep. She's so beautiful when she's in a peaceful sleep.

"Five more minutes"

"Fine! But none more" I concede not actually minding at all.

"Get up!" I say while tickling her sides. Within one full swoop my arms are being help above my head and she's now peppering my face with kisses.

"Baby, stop, what are you doing?" I laugh out

"Payback!" She says sternly but then she gets up and pulls me up with her.

"Time to start our day love." She states while getting dressed.

Y/N's POV

Now that we've gotten some of our last snuggles in I need to get prepared for today. I start by finding my dad, mom and Morgan. I spend time with them until Pep & Morgan have to go.

Then I make my way to the kitchen to make my famous Mac & Cheese for everybody's lunch. I'm trying to spend a little time with everybody to soften the blow. I can tell Nebula knows what's up, but she kinda owes me, so she's staying silent. I'm a bit nervous, I know Clint's going to put up a fight, but I'm always like three steps ahead of him. So I'll definitely win ... or I guess lose? Either way I'm nervous, I don't want to die, but I've already rationalized that it has to be me.

"Baby... Catch me!" Nat yells while running full force at me. I stumble but catch her just fine

"Why'd you do that love?"

"You seemed distracted and I wanted to test if you'd still hear me and catch me in that state"

"How sweet. What if I didn't? Then what huh?"

"Well then we'd be on the ground then silly!" She says before pecking me cheeks as if it's the most obvious thing

"You always push the limits. You're absolutely bonkers, and I couldn't love you anymore"

She kisses me in response then pulls me down to the couch to hold me on her lap. I can tell she's trying to distract me, she knows I'm nervous, if only she actually knew.

"You feeling better?" She asks

"I'm always better with you!" I respond

"So cheesy..." she giggles

"Well, it's true!" I retort back

"I couldn't love you anymore either." She says pulling me in again.

Nat's POV

My baby is so nervous, and I am too, but hers is just off the charts. So now I'm just going to hold her until I can't anymore. I lay back and pull her down on top of me and just stroke my hand through her hair.

"You excited to see Yelena tomorrow?"

"Well duh! But she's gonna want you more!" I say in faux annoyance

"Oh hush. I might be cooler, but you're her big sister .. oh ... You're right!" She mocks me

"Cyka"

"You say that like I don't know what that means"

"Oh, I know you know!" I reply smugly

She rolls us over, straddling me, and holding my hands above my head

"Take it back!" She asserts

"Why would I? I kinda like where this is going.."

"Nuh uh, you horn dog!" She says as she lets my hands go

"Bad move!" I say before pulling her down and smashing our faces together, and not letting up.

We make out for what feels like forever, but is only like five minutes before we're rudely interrupted.

Y/N's POV

As we're in a very heated make out we hear someone clearing their throat.

"Showtime love birds" I hear my dad shout

I respond by throwing a pillow at his head

"Give us five!" I shout back

"Let's go baby. We'll have all the time i. The world when we get back." She smiles giving me a final peck as she goes to walk away

I grab her wrist and pull her back in.

"One more minute" I plead knowing the truth

"For good luck..." I bargain

She laughs and pulls me in for a final kiss. It's long and full of all our love for each other. I lull away and kiss her forehead, then her cheeks, then peck her lips again.

"I love you!" I say while staring deeply into her eyes.

Nat's POV

"I love you more" I reply

"Impossible!" She replies while pulling us in the direction of the others.

As we're putting on our suits I can't help but feel uneasy. I feel like she might know something I don't. We're going in blind, we don't know the circumstances of some of these stones. I know she loves me, but she's been making sure I know as if she knows something. She could just be being cautious and I'm probably just overthinking. It's time to bring our families and all those who were dusted back.

"Whatever it takes!" I hear Steve say as he finishes his big hero speech

As Y/N and I ascend onto the platform she whispers "Yelena would've hated that speech" causing me to chuckle in agreement.

I peck her cheek and say

"See you in a minute" with a smirk before we Pym particle through time and space.

Y/N's POV

We just got to Morag, before Clint & I take off in Rocket's ship I steal one last look at my wife. I give her a hug and tell her to be safe. I do the same with Rhodey and Nebula who gives me a knowing glance.

"Off we go!" I say to Clint

"Goodbye my love." I say to her knowing the finality behind my words

"See you in a minute!" She reiterates with a smile.

I just give her my best smile back and blow her a kiss as I enter the ship.

Clint's POV

I'm flying us to Vormir and Y/N looks like she's deep in thought.

"You good kid?" I say trying to pull her out of her head.

"Of course! Just nervous for the team is all. This is unchartered territories for many of us."

"Yeah, but we got this! We have a lot of people to avenge." I say trying to reassure her.

"Yeah. You excited to see Laura and the gremlins?" She asks playfully changing the subject

"Obviously!"

"Hug them for me please!" She says almost like she won't be able to do it herself

"You'll hug them yourself"

"I know, I just thought you'd want them all to yourself for awhile." She says unconvincingly

Before the conversation continues we're landing.

"Wow... It's beautiful." Y/N mutters

"Yeah, under different circumstances this would've been a nice trip." I reply bringing us back to reality

Y/N's POV

As we both reach the top of this horrid cliff we're both nearly winded.

"Wow... These last five years of little to no training is catching up to me." I laugh out to break the tension

Before he can reply we're interrupted.

"Welcome. Clint, son of Edith. Y/N daughter of Tony." Some weird red floaty guy echos out

We both raise our weapons in confusion towards the mystery figure.

"Who are you?" Clint asks

"Consider me a guide. To you, and all those who seek the Soul Stone"

"Oh, good! Tell us where it is and we'll be on our way." Clint replies

"What you seek lies in front of you... as does what you fear" he speaks out like I true fortune teller

"The stone is down there?" Clint questions

"For one of you. For the other... In order to take the stone, you must lose that which you love. An everlasting exchange. A soul, for a soul."

SHIT! I have to jump off of a cliff. Well, I knew this wouldn't be easy ...

"Jesus... Maybe he's making this shit up!" Clint shouts

"Nope..." I shakily reply

"Why do you say that?"

"It's in the damn name Clint... Gamora never came back. Nebula said this is 'the dominion of death'.." I say giving myself away

"Wait! You knew? You knew and told nobody?" He shouts while approaching me

"I had to do it this way! If we don't get the stones millions of people stay dusted. I weighed the options out and this was the best option. It has to be me Clint!" I shout at him

"No! You're not doing this! You can't..."

"I can, and I will. I love you so much. You've been the best honorary brother I've ever had. Take care of her for me." I say through my tears

"You take care of her yourself!" He says while slamming me to the ground and running towards the cliff

"Nah, you got this!" I say as I hit him with a high voltage widow bite I might've stolen from my wife.

As he falls down I make a run for it, but before I can jump he shoots an explosive arrow towards me throwing me off. He gets up and makes the jump. I follow him and attach him to the cliff with a grappling hook ... I might've stolen my wife's back up mission belt...

"No!"

"I've always been one step ahead of you." I laugh out as he tries to reach me and pull me up.

"You asshole! It shouldn't be you!"

"It shouldn't be anyone..." I sadly reply

"Yeah ... but... please. Let me do this. They are gonna be devastated."

"It's okay!"

"No it's not!" He shouts down to me

"I love you buddy" I say as I kick off the cliff and out of his grasp. I fall with a vision of my life.

My wife smiling at me is the last thing I see before my mind goes blank.

Nat's POV

We did it! I look around and we're all coming back. Clint's back, but he's alone...

"Clint! Where's Y/N?" I say as my heart drops into my stomach already knowing the answer.

He stares up to me with nothing but sorrow in his eyes.

"It was supposed to be me... but she was a step ahead... she always was." He mutters to himself

"WHAT HAPPENED?!" I shout at an alarmingly loud level

"A soul, for a soul ... That's what the stupid red floaty guy said. She knew what was coming. She put the pieces together before we ever set off."

"Oh God ... This is my fault. She convinced me to change the people around. She was so convincing. I never questioned a thing." He stutters out

I'm not even listening at this point, my whole body is ready to shut down

"Who was it supposed to be?" Clint questions

"You and Natasha" Steve replies

That gets my attention... It was for me.

"Wait , what? This is my fault?" I question through tears

"No! It didn't matter who it was originally. She said she weighed out the options and she was the only 'rational' one to do it. She felt like everyone else was of more value. She wouldn't of let anyone of us die. I tried. I fought so hard!" Clint yells through his sobs

"Yeah... You've never beaten her before..." I chuckle through my sobs

"Bullshit!" Tony finally mutters

"I said I'd do this but I can't lose what I have... Now I've already lost..." he continues

"Then we make it worth it!" Steve says trying to make it better as he always does. "Bring everyone back, so her sacrifice isn't in vain."

"Yeah... Back to a world where most of their favorite person is gone." I whisper as I slip out and go to her old room.

"You fucking idiot! You promised me forever and now I'm all alone..." I cry out as I walk in. There's a hoodie laying on the bed with a note on top.

"We've reached forever my love... Go home!" is all it says. So fucking cryptic. I do exactly as I'm told though. I put the hoodie on, along with a pair of her sweats and grab my keys. As I leave I see Bruce and Rocket assembling the gauntlet and stone. I have no need to sit and watch!

I'm. Going. Home. !

—————————————————————

2,343 words ..

It Will Be (Part 3)

[existslikepristin]

Please, No Virginity Puns

The most recent thing I posted before tumblr. It was on Choerry's birthday, and I am proud of that.

Tags: TheLounge, Loona, Choerry, male reader insert, it's her birthday!, 100% butt stuff, I ate a thesaurus

~~~~~

It didn’t matter what you had to say anymore. Choerry was already on top of you, nude and keeping you muted with her tongue. How did you get there?

Well, moments prior, you were sitting next to Choerry at your small dinner table. She’s always insisted on sitting as close to you as possible in order to enable near-constant snuggling. It’s gotten a little annoying here and there, but you can’t help but concede to her innocent demands whenever she smiles.

Of course, and not that you’ve ever complained about this, that’s not to say that her demands aren’t always entirely innocent. Most of the time they are, but not always.

That day, for example, you woke her up with breakfast in bed. It wasn’t tradition, but you were just getting her back for the last time she did it for you. And what better day to present her, prone, with a pancake, pulverized potato, and porridge parfait platter… with toppings… than her birthday?!

It can be hard to tell if Choerry is acting or not at times, but you’d like to think that her cartoonish level of enthusiasm for the treat was entirely real. She carried that sunshine throughout the rest of your day, skipping through the park, greeting everybody on the way to, inside, and on the way out of The Lounge, at the surprise party that you helped all of her members get her with, and when she dragged you to her room.

Not a drop of alcohol had touched her lips that night, so it was all the more surprising when she shoved you onto her bed and stated matter-of-factly-but-also-vaguely that she wanted you to put a thing in her butt. Her words came out of her mouth like shimmery soap bubbles.

You had to pause for a moment to process her words. You were certainly up for some sexy times with Choerry. You had anticipated it was going to happen when she put your hand down her pants near the end of the birthday party with no attempt at subtlety. But her exact word choices had you rubbing your temples out of exasperation, even as she stripped herself down to her ridiculously cherry red lingerie.

Your chance to admire that rare view was lost to history, however. She removed the lingerie from her body while she claimed your lips. Your disappointment at not getting the opportunity to remove it yourself quickly faded when she popped back up though.

Her breasts were as perky as her attitude, and also your dick. She was quick to notice the latter and made quick work of your clothes too. She sighed satisfactorily at the sight of your sword and stooped to supply it with a suck and some slickening slobber, so you suspected the sex was starting summarily; more swiftly than standard, it seemed.

Concerned for her well being, you made sure to ask if she had lube available. Again, you weren’t going to complain about her gusto, but she lacked the anal experience that some of your mutual friends had, at least you assumed. Sure enough, there was a bottle mere feet from her reach in her drawer. She grabbed it and jumped back on top of you, pouring it generously over her ass crack and your cock with surprising accuracy for someone so engaged with a hot and heavy kiss.

You were sure you had something to say on the matter. Perhaps some additional words of caution, maybe some other words of encouragement. It didn’t matter what you had to say anymore. Choerry was already on top of you, nude and keeping you muted with her tongue. How did you-- come back around to the exact same thought that the story began with?

“It’s okay, right?”

You attempted to blink away your stupefaction. “O-okay?”

“Mhm! For me to… you know!” She leaned in and whispered directly into your ear, “Put your penis in my butt.”

Ah, yes. The demand that you had nearly forgotten in her flurry of kisses, now slightly reworded to include your dick in the equation. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Just checking!”

“We’ve… done this before.”

“I know!” Choerry swooped back in to continue kissing you, implying that she had no intention of expounding further. Her fingers wrapped around your cock, massaging the whole length to ensure that the lube had maximum coverage.

Your breath caught as you felt her readjusting you, tapping you around between her legs as she tried to match you up with her intended target purely via exploration. Your cock was ground between her ass cheeks, the tip slid over her clit, and dipped briefly into her pussy. A groan was the only complaint you could give to only being given a half second of her fantastic heat.

You didn’t have to wait long to get it back. Her ass opened up to the pressure she applied against it with your dick, but exceptionally slowly. Choerry released a series of little exclamations into your mouth as she pushed. She tossed the lube bottle to the side and snatched your hand, curling her fingers into your palm.

Finally, the last pop came, and was followed by a short slide. With no more manual guidance necessary, she grabbed your other hand as well, which promptly slipped out of her grip considering the amount of lube present.

Choerry released you from your kissy bliss to look at her slippery hand, a mixture of anger and amusement on her face. She tried a couple more times to hold your hand with it, but you liked this look. You easily slithered your hand out from under hers every time she slapped down. It was like watching a cat trying to catch a laser pointer.

It was just another reminder that no matter how deep inside Choerry you may physically be, she’ll never stop bringing a goofy-ass smile to your face.

Finally, you relented and entwined your fingers with hers, locking your knuckles together so you wouldn’t fall apart. She glared down into your eyes, but a grin still crept through. “Thank you,” she said, lips tight and nose scrunched up.

With you fully in her grasp, Choerry straightened herself up, allowing you the opportunity to look up and down her sublime figure. Though her movement caused her to cause you to penetrate her a bit further which caused her to flinch slightly, she kept herself aloft on her knees to not go too far all at once. She closed her eyes and took a series of deep breaths there, as calmly as if she was meditating.

As much as you wanted to go ham on her ham, you didn’t want to hurt her, so you contented yourself with watching her chest rise and fall. “Happy birthday…” you whispered.

“You’ve already told me that today,” Choerry intoned, eyes still closed like she was drifting off into her own little world.

You laughed. “I was saying it to myself! Have you seen you?”

She smiled again, and said three words in a voice that made it seem like she was speaking to an audience on the edge of their seats, “Okay, I’m ready.”

Her fingers constricted around yours, so you questioned if she was, in fact, ready. But you wouldn’t be the one to stop her.

Choerry’s tight tush trucked its way toward the top of your tower twice to tighten her take on the task at the time, before torturously trending testicle-ward. She temporized without taking your entire tool.

So hypnotized were you with her graceful movement that you didn’t even notice the frustrated moan coming up your throat until it was too late.

Her eyes popped open. “I’m sorry!” She sounded like she meant it, too. “This is… tough.”

“Take your time,” you said, straining your voice for comic effect.

“Could have used that four paragraphs ago,” she said, continuing her extremely slow descent down your shaft.

The odd statement distracted you just long enough for Choerry to finish her drop. No longer did space separate your pelvises. You grew concerned again when she winced and bit her lip from the inside.

“Choerry, we really can do something else. Don’t hurt yourself please.”

She gave you an exaggerated, indignant gander. “Rhetorical question: Who gets to choose the cake on her birthday?”

You held in your “cake” joke.

“It’s me,” Choerry’s voice was far too chipper to make this talking-to sound as stern as you were sure she wanted it to come across as. “As birthday lady, I get to pick the cake, and I get to feed it to you if I want to.”

You held in your “cake feeding” joke.

“And tonight, the cake I pick is my bum.”

You opened your mouth to comment on her most excellent selection of the word “bum” in the midst of a scenario where your cock is fully inside of said bum, but you instead gasped a sharp breath.

Choerry ground forward, pulling your dick with her and anointing the lowermost part of your stomach with the juices being lightly sprinkled from her clit.

“Besiiides,” she continued, re-angling her hands to she could tickle the backs of yours, “We have all the lube! Even some that’s got a certain special flavor to it!”

“Just some?”

“Yeah, ooh,” she crooned, apparently quite enjoying the grind back down your pelvis, “I didn’t get it all at once. Now guess the flavor!”

You waited for her grinding to pause again to be able to think straight, “Does it start with a ‘C?’”

Her smile grew. “Yes!”

“Is it a fruit?”

“Yes!”

“Is it… cherry?”

“Failure!”

“Wha--”

“It’s coconut!”

If you weren’t so established in your hand holding with Choerry, you’d have palmed your face. Thankfully, thoughts of how she could have possibly expected you to guess that were pushed to the back of your mind as she resumed her removal of your breath with a series of fanciful body rolls.

Finally fucking her fanny felt fictional. For while not the first foray there, far-fetched was the philosophy that it was fielded often, the front being the favored fornication fissure for the foreseeable future. Unless, of course, you could make this an especially special session.

But woe was unto you. Choerry had the upper hand(s) figuratively as well as literally. But, perhaps, you thought, this was exactly what she wanted and you could wait your damn turn to take control.

And you liked letting her anally probe herself this way, so, you know, what were you to do but enjoy the ride?

Over the course of her self-imposed ravaging, Choerry’s meditative breaths became ragged. Her eyelids fluttered at regular intervals. Through it all, she held her phantasmagorical demeanor. A couple of times she reached for the lube bottle and shotgunned it somewhat inaccurately between her legs, but it did the job. You were happy to see that she was still considering her own comfort.

In fact, to your surprise, her mouth opened wide in a silent shout. Her core trembled anticipatorily. Her hands held yours with a colossally increased lewdness. And those two mystical words trickled from her tongue with a high-pitched susurration, “I’m… cumming…”

Choerry’s grinding came to a grinding halt. Her body jerked and she fell onto you. Your cock sprang free of her ass in, and as a result of, the same motion.

You untangled one of your hands to stroke her back in the most adoring fashion you could muster. After chewing on a thesaurus for the prior hour, you were sure neither of you really needed any more words.

She stayed there for a spell, and you were happy to let her. It was so late it was nearly no longer her birthday, but her birthday it still was. She deserved the rest, along with the rest of your undivided attention.

Her whole movement consisted of her back going up and down as her lungs attempted to revive her fighting spirit, and her thumb lovingly shifting over the divinatory lines on your palm. You wished she would do something about her hair plastered on your chin, but ninety-nine percent of paradise is paradise enough.

You were disappointed when Choerry rose once more, slimily straddling your stomach. She detached her hands from yours to give the hair on either side of her face a good backward flick over her shoulders, and she sighed with contentment.

It was a shock to hear her speak again after such a prolonged reticence, but her unerringly cheerful voice was entirely welcome nonetheless.

“More please.”

You couldn’t then, and you still can’t help but concede to her innocent demands. Her smile just touched the corner of her lips. Sure, some of her demands aren’t so innocent, but… How did you get here again?

[rebrandedbard]

Gifted Glances Stolen Smiles

wc - 2391

Ao3 link.

Jaskier is trying to get Geralt to smile, but he just can't seem to figure out what it takes, and he maybe gives Geralt a goodnight kiss while he sleeps. In the meantime, Geralt thinks they're already in a relationship that's moving at the speed of a glacier and he's sweet about it.

-

Did Geralt ever smile, Jaskier wondered? The man was stoic at the best of times, and at the worst, his face was warped with displeasure. It was a treat to see Geralt relaxed: the lines of his wrinkles would soften, his brow unfurrow, and—if Jaskier were very lucky—Geralt would close his eyes and rest awhile, looking nearly content.

Jaskier liked it best when Geralt slept. He was always the last one asleep, the first one awake. It was a rare thing to catch Geralt unconscious, and Jaskier was sure that was by design. But twice he’d woken in the middle of the night and found himself nose to nose with the sleeping witcher. The first time, it had been nearly impossible to see his face in the darkness, but the second, the moon had been almost full, so big and bright, and she’d cast her light upon his face. It was like the light which fell through the windows of a cathedral to embrace the masterworks of great artists upon the altars. And what better pedestal for Geralt than a soft pillow? If Jaskier had his way, he’d wrap Geralt in the finest linen sheets, lay him on a down mattress, all bathed in lavender for a restful night’s sleep. He wondered what his face would look like then. Beautiful, no doubt.

Geralt had almost seemed to be smiling, softened in sleep. Jaskier had not been able to help himself. He tipped his head forward and placed the gentlest kiss upon his brow; a silent good-night, and a blessing for pleasant dreams. If he tried, Jaskier could trick himself into believing Geralt really did smile after.

Alas, Jaskier lamented: Geralt wasn’t one for smiling. But then again, he’d never been one for talking much either, and the next day he was unusually chatty. Geralt had said, ‘Good morning’ and used up a few of his precious fifty words a day to complain about Jaskier’s breath before breakfast. When they’d sat down to eat, Geralt asked if Jaskier wanted to return to the room, have his sleep out while he went off to see the alderman. A very unusual offer. Geralt often had Jaskier tag along to collect payment, as Jaskier had a persuasive tongue. With Jaskier at his side, Geralt received most of his payment in full.

“Are you trying to trick me, witcher?” Jaskier asked. “Trying to give me the slip and make off while I’m asleep? Tell me, what have you put in my morning tea? Have you spread some sleeping draught on my bread instead of jam?”

He took a great bite, swallowed it down with a monstrous slurp, then pretended to gag. He threw a hand over his forehead and went limp over his plate.

Geralt rolled his eyes and nudged Jaskier’s foot under the table.

“I live!” Jaskier gasped theatrically.

“It’s a miracle,” Geralt deadpanned.

Jaskier grinned and tucked back in, chewing at a more gentlemanly pace. “So. What is it? Have I got bags under my eyes or something? You’re being generous.”

“I just thought you might be tired.”

“Well, that was courteous of you. But rest assured, I am well rested.”

Geralt hummed. He returned to his breakfast without another word, and Jaskier regarded it as a fluke of the early morning.

Until it happened again in the market.

They were returning from their meeting with the alderman—only stiffed by one silver coin—when Jaskier wheedled his way into an extra hour of shopping. Geralt followed along at Jaskier’s side while he flitted from stall to stall, abusing this sudden burst of generosity to have a bit of fun.

“Look at this, Geralt!” Jaskier held up a little floral sachet embroidered with two stars. It was filled with lavender and chamomile, with just a hint of cinnamon.

“This,” he explained, “is a charm for good dreams. See these two stars here? They’re wishing stars. The first grants blessings for good dreams during your first sleep, the second for your second. You see, most charms try to lay a sort of blanket-blessing for the whole night, which is why they never work. My grandmother made one of these for me when I was little and she used both stars. I never had a poor night’s sleep with it under my pillow.”

“Hm.” Geralt picked up the sachet, examining it with an amused expression.

Jaskier liked when Geralt looked smug. It was not the smile he truly wanted, but anything like a smile was a blessing to see. He was always glad when Geralt enjoyed himself.

Geralt dangled the little sachet in front of Jaskier’s nose, swinging it slightly. “And how did you sleep last night? Are you in need of a sleeping charm?” he asked.

Jaskier stiffened. That made twice that Geralt had suggested sleeping poorly. Jaskier had been sure he’d been asleep, but now he had an inkling that he was being made the fool. He lightly tugged the sachet from his hand and returned it to the stall.

Geralt resumed his silence after they left the market.

That night, Jaskier slept with his back to Geralt. He thought he could feel Geralt’s eyes on the back of his head long after they snuffed the candle. He nearly jumped when he felt the arm wrap around his waist.

Geralt pulled him to his chest and spoke in his ear. “Calm down,” he murmured. “You’re thinking too loudly. I can’t sleep.”

Jaskier nodded, heart racing with nervous energy.

“This too,” Geralt said, placing a hand over the thrumming in his chest.

“I’m afraid that’s out of my hands.”

“It’s in mine. So relax. You have nothing to fear with me.”

That was … a strange sort of comment. Strange, and oddly calming. Jaskier played them over in his head, imagining them in a new context. He closed his eyes, taking in the feeling of Geralt wrapped around him, warm and steady. Geralt’s breath tickled his neck. And yes, Geralt had his hand over his heart. His heart was, in many ways, in Geralt’s hand.

Jaskier smiled, cracking an eyes to look up at the moon. “I’m not afraid of any werewolves sniffing about tonight if that’s what you were thinking.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Hm. So what do you think I’m afraid of?”

Geralt only hummed in reply.

Jaskier turned under Geralt’s arm. “Oh no, I said ‘hm’ first. You have to say something else. I already used it in this conversation.”

“Hm,” Geralt replied again, a funny little smirk on his face.

“I’ll smother you,” Jaskier threatened, putting a hand on Geralt’s pillow to make good.

But Geralt took the hand from under his head and wrapped it around Jaskier’s. “Wish you would,” he murmured.

“Come now, Geralt. The pay wasn’t that bad. And I don’t really mean to suffocate you; you don’t have to hold me back.”

“You need more sleep. You’re slow-witted today.”

Jaskier frowned. “And what do you mean by that?”

“Go to sleep, Jaskier.”

So he did, and things were relatively normal as the week progressed. Evidently, Jaskier looked rested enough, and Geralt no longer felt the need to make comments. Perhaps that had been all. Jaskier had to admit, he was tired. Or perhaps it was more convenient to pretend. He didn’t like thinking that Geralt had woken, and he didn’t believe Geralt would toy with him.

They were on the path again, and Jaskier returned to his musing. What, he wondered, would make Geralt smile? He told jokes at the tavern at the next town, hoping to steal one little grin. Now and then he cast a look over his shoulder to see if Geralt might laugh, but after the first few jokes he had to concede. He spent the rest of comedy hour focusing on his circle of patrons, laughing and drinking while he waited for Geralt to finish his lunch.

In the evening, he worked the same crowd, hopping round and round in a dance as he played his songs. He played a few songs Geralt had deemed not horrendously irredeemable in the past to see if that might do the trick, then tossed in a few cheeky verses of ‘Fishmonger’s Daughter’ for good measure. He bought Geralt an extra ale. A second plate.

Geralt never did smile, but at least he looked pleased.

When Jaskier had a moment spare, he brushed Roach and polished her tack. It would seem this quest of his was never-ending. All month long he’d been asking himself the question, and honestly, his efforts were uninspired. He wasn’t doing anything more or less than what he would normally do, sprinkling in little treats here and there which he thought Geralt might enjoy. There wasn’t  anything special in it. The lack of imagination bothered Jaskier and he knew that if he wanted Geralt to smile, he would have to think of something bigger, grander!

But Geralt was different. Geralt didn’t mull over these things. It was surprising, yes, when Geralt went out of his way to do things for him, but he didn’t agonize over doing them. As easily as Geralt set his bags down at the campfire, he might place an apple by Jaskier’s elbow. The day might be long, but Geralt would set up camp at midday to let them rest, just when Jaskier was aching for a good lie down.

Jaskier lay awake after his first sleep some nights, watching him, thinking it over. The more Jaskier thought about it, the more he became aware of the little things Geralt did. They were more frequent now. At least once a day, Geralt did something to make him smile. All Jaskier wanted was to do the same.

What, Jaskier asked himself. What would make him smile?

He stood in the tailor’s mirror, asking himself the question once more as he adjusted his new doublet. He turned this way and that, plucking at the sleeves. It would be autumn soon enough, and he needed to dress for the season. He thought a nice red would do.

Geralt sat on a stool to one side, a new cloak folded upon his lap. It was Jaskier’s treat for the day, and he had bullied Geralt into accepting it.

Jaskier’s eyes flicked to the side of the mirror. He hoped he might steal a glance of Geralt smiling at the new cloak. It was a black wool, lined with soft fleece. It was still a bit early to wear anything so heavy, but Geralt was always telling him to think ahead. This village was known for their particular breed of sheep, and the coin was good, so Jaskier thought it wise to invest in the warmest, softest wool in the east. Silently, Jaskier dared anyone to try and find a more thoughtful gift than that! It was a smart gift, he thought, and to his great shock, he saw it at last.

Geralt was smiling, a real, true smile. Not a smile born of politeness, nor a wry grimace, not a smirk, but a genuine smile. But Geralt was not looking at the cloak.

Geralt caught Jaskier’s eye in the mirror.

Jaskier turned and said, “You’re smiling.”

“I do that,” he replied.

“Not often. I hardly ever see it.”

Great shrugged. “You’re too busy most of the time.”

“I’ve been trying to catch you smiling all month long! I’ve been constantly vigilant. How could I be too busy?”

“You’re singing. You’re talking and dancing, writing. Having fun. I like to watch you do it,” Geralt answered. “Almost as much as you like to watch me sleep.”

Jaskier flushed. “You know about that?” he asked.

Geralt stood, setting the cloak aside, and crossed the room to stand beside him. “I don’t mind. It’s no different from my watching you.” As he spoke, he carefully slipped his hand into Jaskier’s. “I understand if you still want to move slowly, but some nights I wish that you would kiss me again. I thought you were trying to tell me you were ready for more.”

Jaskier’s heart stopped.

Geralt wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s shoulders, looking at their reflection in the mirror. “Even so,” he said, leaning his head against Jaskier’s cheek, “I’m happy where we are now. I’m all in, Jaskier. However long it takes, I don’t mind waiting.”

“Waiting?” Jaskier squawked. He did not currently have the capacity to process everything Geralt had said, and Geralt had said quite a lot—very plainly spoken—in less than a minute.

Geralt nodded. “As long as you need.”

“You’ve been waiting on me. Waiting for me to … I beg your pardon, but did you say you wanted me to kiss you?”

“I did.”

Jaskier’s limp hands remembered themselves. They rose to cover over Geralt’s arms. Jaskier simply gaped into the mirror. Slowly, a smile lit up his eyes.

“Hey, Geralt?” he said.

“Hm.”

“I bet you a gold coin I know a way, guaranteed, to make you smile again on command.”

Geralt chuckled. “You’re broke.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m guaranteed to win.”

“Given your tone, I have a funny idea I’m about to win something as well.”

Jaskier turned in Geralt’s arms and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Geralt hummed. “I love being right,” he said.

“And what else do you love, my dear?” Jaskier brought a hand up to curl a teasing finger around Geralt’s long white hair. He felt giddy and silly. He wanted to dance and sing and act a fool, then leap into Geralt’s arms. But never mind the leaping; at that very moment, he was right where he wanted to be.

Geralt shushed him. Slowly, he unwrapped himself from Jaskier and walked back to the stool. He picked up the cloak and wrapped it around himself, after which he bumped Jaskier out of the mirror to have a look.

“My new cloak,” he answered.

Jaskier laughed and bumped him back. “I have excellent taste.”

“You do.” And Geralt adjusted Jaskier’s ruffled tie.

They stood together, side by side in the mirror, stealing glances at one another. No, not stealing, Jaskier realized, for this was allowed. He would not steal glances this day forward. From now on, they would be a gift. So he gifted Geralt with another glance and winked.

And Geralt smiled.

[austajunk]

54. “Oh, baby, you’re drooling everywhere.” for Komanami (Nagito in human form, Chiaki in feral werewolf form), pretty please?

Oooh god yes. I love it when people ask me for Nagito to get railed by his lovely feral gamer gf! <3

Werewolf mating below the cut! :3

“Oh… Nanami-san, you’re drooling everywhere.”

Indeed, Chiaki was. At the height of the full moon, the usually sleepy gamer girl couldn’t hide the monster that festered inside of her. There was the spirit of something wild and fierce that dwelled with her and it aimed to play with more than just games that night.

As her massive fangs bared down at him, Nagito had prepared for something of a mauling. But instead, her cold snout was pushing underneath his long shirt, taking a good inhale of his scent.

“Angh… Ahaha… that tickles…” Nagito couldn’t help but to let a small chuckle escape his throat as the beautiful creature above him wagged her tail and nuzzled him. At the first sign of his scent, Chiaki had gotten excited and her mouth watered in anticipation of playing with her prey. Lines of drools leaked over Nagito’s bare torso as Chiaki continued to dig underneath his shirt.

Her rough tongue coated his chest and he groaned, laying back to expose more of himself to her. Nagito simply couldn’t help it. With the way her strong tongue lashed at his small, sensitive nipples, he felt that unbearable pulse in his crotch. It was like the beast wanted to taste him… to explore his body and see what it could find. “Ungh… hngh…” Long, horrid lines of saliva and spittle washed down his face, cascading down to her exposed chest. “Uck…” How messy! Then Chiaki moved lower. That tongue lashed at his neck and Nagito shuddered.

Sucking in a needy breath of air, he murmured a stream of praises and whispers to his rough lover, urging her to take him. To rough him up. He’d thank Chiaki forever for it.

And she obliged him. Her sharp teeth shredded through his shirt instantly and her paws burrowed harshly into his arm until he was forced to let out a soft yelp. Chiaki ignored his whines and merely licked and nipped at his nipples, sinking lower to his pants.

"N-No... that's dirty..." Nagito groaned, putting up that fake and feeble resistance.

With the rough way Chiaki bit and clawed away his pants and underwear, Nagito was certain she never intended to show him any mercy! Once he was bear, her licks became rougher, quicker, hungrier—it forced Nagito’s body to concede to the pleasure she left him coated in. The hot, wet tongue left long trails of sticky saliva in its wake and a sea of moans spilling from her victim as it ran up his shaft. Nagito was locked in a half-lidded daze, his body bouncing with every lash of her tongue from above. She was so strong and fierce that his cries continued to increase in volume to the point that the Luckster feared being heard out by the rest of the world outside their room.

But it felt so good. Waves of ecstasy flooded to his shaft…

“Ngh… so….so good… why does it feel so good?” The tear tracks stained his cheeks. Nagito panted, riding his beastly lover’s rough tongue, his groans becoming more akin to a wounded beast’s.

As delirious with the pleasure coursing through his body as he was, the sudden wave of heat that wafted in the air to Nagito’s nose had the poor boy open his eyes to the creature above him. Through hulking muscles, Nagito’s eyes traced Chiaki’s furry exterior all the way down to the core of where all the heat seemed to be circulating around. It overwhelmed her senses into madness and made her mouth and her cock both salivate in need. Is this what they called being “in heat”? The lashing Nagito’s cock had taken had put him through one of the most incredible feelings in his entire life and he wanted more. His fearful, but lewd expression beckoned the werewolf closer, as he arched up again and offered his frail body to her.

“Please… let’s never stop, Nanami-san!”

He squirmed until he rolled to his back, lifting his ass in the air like a good mate. His cock glistened with a strand of pearly white cum shamefully in the light of the moon.

“Please…please breed me as much as you like!”

[lightsovermonaco]

Patience is a Virtue (NSFW Max Verstappen)

Masterlist

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to @acollectionofficsandshit !!! Last minute present, which hasn’t been beta’d, but I hope you enjoy ♥

Max had been so busy the past few weeks, what with preseason testing and gearing up for the first race in less than a week. You had not been able to attend testing this year, Red Bull having only allowed essential personnel to travel to Bahrain. It had been two weeks since you had seen Max’s face in person instead of being separated by phone screens. 

Considering Max’s packed schedule, you had fully expected to celebrate your birthday alone. It had been enough of a surprise that he had shown up at the door of the apartment you shared in Monaco earlier that day, having flown home from London to help you celebrate. You had lounged about watching cheesy movies and trading kisses all day before Max had informed you he had something to show you.

“No peeking,” Max said, one hand on your shoulder and the other on your hip as he guided you along. “Step down.”

Cautiously, you feel with the toe of your shoe for the step. Seagulls crow and you can smelly the briny sea, but that could mean you were anywhere in the city. You didn't have any definitive context clues as to where you were. 

“Where are you taking me?”

“I told you it’s a surprise. Was the whole “close your eyes’ thing not clear?” He squeezed your shoulder. “Besides, we’re here.”

“I can open my eyes?” You asked, wanting to be certain. Max’s whispered affirmation was a wisp of breath against your neck.

Your eyes blinked open, taking a moment to adjust to the brightness of the setting sun. Max’s arms wound around your middle, his chin resting on your shoulder. A small table set for two sat on a sandy private beach, complete with flickering candles and a waiter standing by.

“Daniel came up with this, didn’t he?” You teased, placing your hand on his corded forearm.

“He may have helped with the specifics,” He conceded, and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Charles is the one that let me borrow his villa.” 

You hummed in appreciation of the gesture. “So you are friends.”

“Jury’s still out on that one.”

You laughed and let Max lead you to the table. He pulled out your chair, letting you get settled before leaning in for a kiss. Being apart for so long had made him more affectionate than usual. Not that you were complaining.

Glasses of wine were poured before the waiter retreated back to the house, presumably to give you and Max privacy. Max leaned back, letting the last dregs of sunlight warm his face. It was the most beautiful sight you had ever seen.

Your eyes traced the line of his neck, up the angle of his strong, stubbled jaw. Muscles rippled as he took off his signature flat-brimmed cap, running his fingers through his hair before replacing it backwards on his head. And god, you could’ve jumped on him right there. Noticing your stare, Max grinned, his foot finding yours under the table.

“Keep undressing me with your eyes like that and we won’t get to enjoy the lovely meal Daniel planned out.” You bit your lip to suppress your smile. Your assumption that Max hadn’t come up with this on his own was right, then. It was far too cheesy for it to have been all his idea.

You reached for his hand, threading your fingers together. “Maybe I’d rather undress you and eat at home.”

“Daniel would be upset that his efforts went to waste.” Mischief glinted in Max’s baby blues.

“I wouldn’t call them wasted,” You murmured, running your bare foot up Max’s calf. “After you leave tomorrow, I’ll be all alone for another week. I think Daniel would understand if I had other activities in mind for tonight.”

Max leaned back and stretched his arms over his head, fully aware that he was torturing you. Your mouth watered from more than just the delicious smell of grilled steak. A wicked grin split his face. “We’re having dinner,” He said, tone leaving no room for a challenge.

“But-”

He moved lightning quick, his hand gripping your thigh under the table. “I said we’re having dinner. Understood?”

“Yes,” You breathed, heart pounding. The dominance in his voice melted any protests that had sprang to your lips.

“Good girl,” He murmured, then sat back like nothing had happened when the server brought out your meal. As soon as Max thanked him, you dug in. Golden, perfectly seasoned potatoes and carrots, and a perfectly cooked steak with a delicious, sweet sauce. You shoveled it in, eager to get home.

“Take your time,” Max warned. “Or you’ll just be sitting there while I finish mine.” Indeed, he cut his steak agonizingly slow, deliberately dragging it out. You tried to match his leisurely pace, but couldn’t keep your mind from wandering. Your leg bounced impatiently. Max once more gripped your thigh, giving you a stern look.

“Patience is a virtue.”

Silence dominated the last of the meal, your body lined with tension. You couldn’t wait to get him home, having wanted to do so since the moment he turned that damned hat backwards. The sun had set by the time he tipped the waiter. You practically lept from your seat when he stood, grabbing his hand and racing for the street.

Max was stronger than you, of course, and when he dug his heels into the sand you had no choice but to halt. “I said patience, my schat.” My treasure.

Your stomach flipped. Just when you thought you couldn’t want him more, he pulled out the rarely used Dutch term of endearment that never failed to drive you wild. You had to get him home, or else you’d beg for him to take you right there on the beach in front of Charle’s vacant home.

Reading the plea on your face, Max relented with a sigh. “Alright, we won’t take a walk along the water like I planned.” He waved a hand. “You know the way home.”

You wound through the streets with practiced ease, your feet having traveled the path between Charles’ home and your apartment countless times. At one point you had to stop at a street crossing, bouncing on your toes.

The hand Max placed on your ass made you freeze. “Anxious?” He murmured, breath tickling your neck. You only nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. You could only imagine what he would do to you when you were alone.

After two more agonizing blocks, you were home. You rounded on Max the second the door closed behind you, lips crashed to his and your hands tugging his shirt up. Setting his cap on the kitchen counter, you left a trail of clothing from the front door to the threshold of the bedroom. Stripped down to your underwear, you wound your arms around Max’s neck and jumped, wrapping your legs around him.

He caught you with a grin. “Happy birthday, baby.”

“Uh huh,” You replied automatically, jerking your head towards the bed. Max took the hint, laying you back and stripping off his shorts and boxers, leaving him bare before you. The beauty of his body never ceased to amaze you, no matter how many times you saw it.

Max sank to his knees at the edge of the bed, eyes never leaving yours as he slid his hands behind your calves and pulled. You gasped, legs falling open. The sudden heat of his breath on your core shocked your system, sending a shiver up your spine. “Please,” You whispered. 

Your knee jerked when his lips met your inner thigh, dangerously close to where you needed him. His mouth trailed up to your hip, where he bit down hard enough to leave a mark. You gasped again, hips rising off the mattress.

“T-tease,” You breathed, head spinning like a top.

“Makes it sweeter when I finally feast.”

And feast he did.

Max had your panties off in record time, immediately dragging his tongue through your slick folds. His nose bumped your clit with each swirl of his tongue. A low moan tore from your throat. Reaching down, you tangled your fingers in his chocolate hair and encouraged him further with the grinding of your hips to his face. His hum of approval rocked through you, snipping the thread of sanity you’d been clinging to.

Your thighs tightened around his head when he slipped a finger inside you, his tongue devouring your clit like it was his last meal. He tapped thrice on your knee, his silent signal that he wanted your eyes on him. It took every ounce of your willpower to meet his request, gazing down at him between your legs.

His confident wink sent you over the edge, golden pleasure coursing through you hot as a wildfire. His tongue lapped at your center, letting you ride through the pleasure. Only when you whimpered softly did he remove his finger and mouth, his chest heaving.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He asked, words coated in desire. You managed a nod. “Turn over.”

You tried to obey, you really did, but your limbs wouldn’t cooperate. With a growl of impatience, Max flipped you on your stomach. Fingers dug into your flesh as he hauled you up by the hips, face to the bed but ass in the air.

You rock your hips back, brushing the length of his cock. “That’s my girl.”

In one swift movement, he seats himself to the hilt inside you. You don’t need any time to adjust, thankfully, because Max doesn’t waste a second. The obscene sounds of skin on skin fills the room as he slams into you. Fingers tangled in your hair yank you to your elbows, and you looked over your shoulder at Max. 

His name was a plea, the only word in your vocabulary as he fucked you senseless. The sting of your scalp was a sharp contrast to the delicious pleasure flooding through you with each thrust of his hips. More than once your limbs turned to jelly, relying on Max to hold you up. He angled his hips to hit that sweet spot inside you with each thrust.

“Max, please-”

“Fuck, I never get tired of how wet you get for me,” Max grunted, increasing his pace until the force of it was enough to make you see stars. “Such a good girl, always ready for me when I want you.”

The praise had your walls tightening on his cock, a whimper escaping your throat. "M-Max-"

"Me too," He grunted, slamming into you twice more before spilling his seed inside you. He gave a few lazy strokes as you followed his lead, your second orgasm of the night draining any energy you had left. Max eased out of you and ran a cloth he had grabbed from the nightstand between your legs. 

"I could use a shower after that," You murmured. Max's rumbling laughter sounded at your ear.

"That can be arranged, birthday girl."

[quietmyfearswith]

setting off ; stucky x fem!reader

status — completed oneshot

word count — 2,463 words

summary — in which steve and bucky get the happy ending they deserve with their best doll.

warnings — implied smut, fluff, talks of starting a family, no curse word i think?

pairing — stucky x fem!reader

a/n — pretty self-indulgent lol,, feedback is appreciated and asks/messages are open!

tagging — @la-cey​ @pedropcl​ @iloveshawnieboi​ @isysen​

masterlist | series masterlist | join my taglist (please follow the rules)

“Can someone at least give me a hint of where we’re going?” Y/N whined for what would be the fifth time in the last hour. She had been asleep for the first three hours of their travel, but now that she woke up she struggled to return to slumber so instead she ate some snacks as she begged her two boyfriends to give her a faint clue of where they were going.

Steve was currently driving to their destination; he was exceeding about five kilometers the stated speed limit, which was enough evidence that he was excited to reach the end of their trip. Thankfully, the pick-up truck they bought allowed two more passengers beside the driver in the front so she was sandwiched in between the two super soldiers.

“It’s not a surprise if we tell you where we’re headed, doll,” Bucky swatted her thigh playfully, before gulping down the rest of his water bottle. “It still would be,” She argued as she swatted his thigh too, “You can tell me the location of where we’re and I still would be surprised with the actual place we’re gonna be staying at.”

Pissed with her logic, his metal fingers tickled her sides, causing her to attempt pushing his hand away, giggling as she squirmed further into Steve’s side. “Stevie! He’s being mean to me again!”

“Knock it off, you two!” Steve scolded them, chuckling to himself when they settled down immediately and both pouted at him. “Are you sure you’re our boyfriends and not our babysitter?” Bucky giggled at her comment, even pecked her cheek to show how proud he was of her remark.

The former Captain America playfully rolled his eyes as he sighed, “And here I was pulling up to our destination when I should have gone here alone and not show you the present we got you.” Upon registering his words, she sat up straight and twisted left and right as she excitedly asked, “Your present? What did you get me? Please give me a clue! Please, please, please!”

Bucky laughed at her pumped up state, bopping her nose he assured her, “Well the only clue we’ll give is that we looked and searched hard for this gift of yours — we knew you had to have the best one.” Pouting and nose scrunching up in confusion, she turned to Steve and before she could even speak, he was already saying, “What Buck said is true, we hope you like our present.”

Pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek — she wanted to kiss his lips but didn’t want to distract him from driving — then a short, teasing kiss on Bucky’s lips she reassured them, “You both know I will always appreciate whatever it is you give me.”

Covering her eyes with his flesh hand, the former Winter Soldier smirked, “Well the only way to find out is when you see it. Keep your eyes closed for a while okay?” She whined but was quickly being shushed, “We’re pulling in now and you’re about to see your present!”

Once she felt the car come to a stop, she clawed at the hand that was shielding her from seeing her present as she thought she was permitted to look at it. But as she was being guided out of the truck with the hand still covering her eyes, she felt that maybe it still wasn’t the cue for her to see it.

“Okay stand there, are you alright?” Steve asked after guiding her to stand at a certain angle. “I’m fine, Steve! Now show me already! I’m getting impatient,” She was about to beg their ears off until Bucky slid his hand out of her eyes and she gasped out upon seeing the house. “Here you go, doll. Our brand new home.”

Her eyes became glossy as tears were peeking out, as she turned over to them and choked out, “A lake house?” Steve nodded, wiping the tears off her eyes before they got the chance to spill and kissed her lips, “Yes, doll. Your dream lake house.”

“We chose a secluded one so that way no one can complain when we’re too loud at night,” Bucky’s cocky reply was short-lived since Steve hit his arm which only made their girl laugh and hug them both. The two took her tight hug as a sign that she loved it. Removing himself early from the hug, Steve called, “Come on now! We still need to show you around the house!”

With every step she took, she clung onto each of her boyfriends’ hands tightly. The white coat of the house made her feel even more serene. Having multiple levels, she wondered about how many rooms there were, “How many floors and rooms are there? There seems to be way too many.”

“Five rooms, excluding the game and theater room that is. And there are two stories plus the basement.” Steve recalled as he opened the front door, the sight of the living room immediately greeted her. Soft couches, neat fireplace, and bookshelves beside a vinyl player greeted her. Sitting down on one of the seats, she giggled when the mattress was soft enough that it almost engulfed her completely, “I love this so much!”

Bucky picked her up and hoisted her over his shoulder, “Wait ‘til you see the kitchen!” Placing her back to stand on her toes, he showed her how they fulfilled her dream kitchen of having two refrigerators, two ovens topped with an incredible gas stove, as well as a spacious countertop for when she baked and cooked for them. Smiling, she hugged Bucky and kissed his bearded cheek, “I love it so much! ‘M gonna stay here all the time now.”

Perking up at her statement, Steve smirked as he offered his arm for her to hold on to, “May I show you my favorite part of the house?” Finding it silly with how fancy he was being, she tangled an arm around his, while her other arm stretched out for Bucky to hold on to and his bionic hand laced with hers, “I’d love to see it, Mr. Rogers.”

Opening the black, wooden door, she was shown the master bedroom with a bed large enough to accommodate the three of them. “You cheeky bubba! The bedroom?!” She laughed as she plopped herself down on the soft mattress.

You’d think despite them being centenarians they would be stiff and boring, but the way they jumped in the bed and tickled her sides or rubbed their beards on her neck to elicit even more giggles from her suggested that they were more lively than you would suspect.

“Stop! I concede,” The last word was prolonged into a squeal with the way they were attacking her gently. Taking mercy on her, they stopped as they laid beside her, an arm draped over her figure as they traced her skin with their fingertips.

“I love it,” She spoke, filling the tranquil silence, “Thank you so much for this. I love you both so much.” Bucky cleared his throat and kissed her tricep, “Well this was something we hoped you’d love. And something we wanted to give you, as a thank you.”

Both super soldiers agreed not to mention the little part he slipped up; Steve smacked his flesh hand and groaned a bit. “As a thank you?” She sat up as her eyes shifted over between the two men. They followed her as they sat down too and explained to her, “Buck and I have come to realize how much you have sacrifice for us.”

“The way you stood up for me when the whole Accords happened,” Bucky continued and recalled how she stopped their airport battle when she stopped them upon uncovering the truth and seizing Zemo for discovering his plans. “You fought and stood up for me when everyone else was convinced I was the bad guy.”

Her hand caressed his cheek — her touch had cured him of his terrible association with physical contact. Images of when HYDRA treated him horribly in Bucky’s own time vanished from his mind every time he physically came in contact with someone thanks to her gentle handling of him and her incredible patience. He nuzzled his cheek into her palm, she was about to speak until Steve spoke up, “When we said that we wanted to step down from being Avengers, it was because of you.”

“Me?” This shook her to her core. She knew about their exhaustion with all the fighting that they had to do in order to save the world — everytime they needed to be patched up and taken care of, she’d done all that for them without complaints. But never did she imagine they would quit being part of the team for her, “I’m so sorry if I made it feel like you have to do all this for me.”

Sensing her panicked state, they both calmed her down as Steve rubbed her thighs while Bucky massaged her shoulders to settle her squirming body, “It’s not like that, doll. I should have been clearer with what I meant.”

Managing to relax, she looked up at Steve with her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, encouraging him to speak his mind, “Buck and I talked about how tired we are. All this fighting — even though they all were for a good cause, of course — has started to take a toll on us. Not just physically, but emotionally as well,” He cleared his throat as he felt himself beginning to tear up, “It was evident that we badly needed an exit from this lifestyle that was forced upon us.”

“But we somehow got a hint that maybe there would be no way out for us,” Bucky continued when Steve stared at him to go on, Y/N too followed his gaze and looked at him, “That maybe it was set in stone that our fate would be to fight in battle forever.” Her heart clenched and fell into pieces at that thought. “What a cruel fate that would be, love,” She sympathized.

“Then you came along,” Steve resumed with a smile on his lips, “We now found a reason to keep going and fighting. Because we wanted you to live safely and feely.” She thought that what he said would be impossible to top off with the way her heart was beating wildly against her chest, lips pursing as she pouted in adoration. But Bucky wasn’t going to let anyone — not even Steve — outdo him so he pressed a kiss on the top of her head as he spoke sincerely, “We wanted to give you the life you deserve. A life far from danger and uncertainty. So we bought this secluded lake house — giving us the chance to be ourselves and do whatever we want.”

What Bucky said was a close runner up to Steve’s words and she couldn't help but coo at their word as she tried her best to wrap her smaller arms around their hulking figures, “I love you both! So so so so much! I’m incredibly blessed to have the two of you in my life!” Wanting to snap out of their dreamy state, Steve clapped his hands, “Well how about we prepare our lunch.”

Excited at the thought of preparing a meal in her new kitchen, Y/N jumped off the bed with a smile as she scurried off to the kitchen, “I’m gonna make us some sandwiches!” As the two two super soldiers looked at each other after both taking note of how excited their girl was they both thought of the same thing — they made the right and best decision.

After munching down the delicious turkey avocado sandwich with chipotle mayonnaise, they all retired to the deck; both Steve and Bucky were lounging around on one of their chaise lounge chairs as they were clad in their swim shorts while Y/N swam around for a bit on the clear, warm water.

“I can get used to always swimming,” She stated once she reached the top of the pool’s ladder and walked towards them, sitting down on Steve’s lap as she drank some of the iced tea they had prepared. “I, on the other hand, know that I can get used to seeing you in your swimsuit,” Bucky wolf whistled as he openly gawked at her bikini-clad figure.

Despite being with them for quite a few years now and getting used to Bucky’s playful behavior, she still gets bashful when she’s on the receiving end of Bucky’s silver tongue. She clicked her tongue at him as an attempt to weakly silence him, “Bucky Barnes! You and your silver tongue; someday I will catch you off guard the way you do to me.”

Steve decided to join in but unfortunately it didn’t help her cause, “Oh doll, I love you but we all know you get flustered even at the mere thought of flirting at us.” His arms wrapped tightly around her waist as he placed a kiss on her shoulder, as if he was comforting her; which Bucky found amusing as he chuckled. She hit Steve's shoulder as she scowled at Bucky, the two then decided to end their playful banter against their girl.

Upon being signalled to pull his chair closer to where Steve was sat, Y/N played with Bucky's metal fingers as she laid her head on her other boyfriend’s chest, “I love you both. Really, I do,” She lifted her head to kiss Steve’s slightly chapped lips deeply before muttering, “I love you, Steve.” To which he said the same without missing a beat.

“I love you, Bucky,” She declared before leaning over to kiss his lips with the same passion and vigour. “Can’t wait for this new chapter that’s waiting for us,” She sighed out, blissed and content.

Steve’s warm palm caressed her stomach as he spoke with hope, “Who knows? Maybe we can start our family now.” She knew it was something he wanted — even way back in the 40’s he was already hopeful for a family of his own. Bucky, however, always wanting to spite and retort Steve just for the sake of it quickly countered, “Or maybe just adopt a bunch of dogs so the house isn’t too quiet.”

Y/N laughed when both her boyfriends stuck their tongue out and made silly faces to tease each other even more; breaking up their fight, she turned to them and reassured them, “No matter what lies ahead, I know we all can agree that we will venture it together.” And the silence laced with the content smiles they had on their faces gave her the confirmation that indeed, they will go through it all together.

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 12: Capsaicin

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Maybe he wrote her address wrong.

The odds of that happening are pretty damn slim; Mulder’s had it down by heart for years, but he’s grasping at all possibilities right now.

He had sent the letter through the postal service in an attempt to keep himself from stressing out over its delivery, but that plan backfired the minute the envelope left his hands.

He dropped it in the mail on Saturday evening. It’s now Wednesday, and Scully has made no mention of it. There’s been no indication in her demeanor at all to suggest that she’d received any revelatory mail-pieces.

He might live the rest of his life in this horrific limbo, a purgatory of his own construction. He’s been on pins and needles all week, filling the basement office with nervous energy, furtively glancing at Scully in attempts to read her facial expressions. Did she get the letter and throw it out? How is she so calm? Maybe it got stuck in one of the sorting machines…

Before he knows it, Scully’s bidding him a friendly “goodnight” and shutting the office door.

Say what you will about anxiety, but it sure spices up the workday.

Mulder drives home in a fog; he’s exhausted from the mental exertion of thinking in circles and jumping to conclusions. Inside his apartment he flops down on the sofa and calls for takeout from the Thai place down the street that has his order memorized.

The next time he confesses his undying love to somebody, he’s going to use e-mail.

A knock on his door shakes him from his reverie.

“How much do I owe-” he begins as he opens the door, then freezes.

Scully is standing at his doorstep, a high flush on her cheeks. She looks somehow startled, as though he surprised her by opening his own front door.

“Scully,” he says, concerned. “Are you alright?”

“Mulder,” she replies, voice cracking on the edges. Her big blue eyes are full, ready to spill over her lower lids.

Oh.

“You read it,” he says softly. He feels his chest tighten into a tight knot of anxiety, and he swallows hard.

She nods. “Can I- I need to come in.”

He stands aside, ushers her into his living room.

She’s vibrating with nervous energy. Mulder motions to the couch. “Would you, uh, like to sit down?”

“I’d prefer to stand, thank you,” she says, voice tight. She grips her elbows.

“Well, I guess I’ll sit,” Mulder says softly, lowering himself to the couch. “Scully, I-“

She holds out a hand. “You got to say your piece, Mulder, now it’s time for mine.” Her lower lip crumples slightly, and he wants to get up and hug her.

She takes a deep breath, pulling herself together. “Mulder, when I received your letter today…” She blinks back tears. “I was completely overwhelmed. I’m not even sure how I managed to drive here,” she admits. “And I appreciate that in it you acknowledged the inopportune timing of your confession. Things just keep piling up,” she says. “But now I just want to know, need to know… why the hell did you wait so long?”

There’s pain in her voice, and he aches in return.

“I didn’t know how you felt,” he says simply, “and then Mark happened.” It’s so insufficient, but it’s all he has.

“I wish you’d told me before,” she says. “I wish I’d known. I dragged you into this mess with him, and the whole time you… you felt that for me.”

“Scully,” he says slowly, “If I had told you I loved you, would you have still gone out with Mark?”

She doesn’t answer right away, and his heart falls into his stomach.

“How can you ask me that?” she says, voice a rough whisper. “What do you want me to say?”

Say no. Please. “I’m only interested in the truth, Scully. You of all people know that by now.”

A tear spills down her cheek, and she wipes it away roughly. “I… I don’t know. Do you have any idea how long and hard I worked to not feel? I’d wake up every damn morning thinking about you. I’d scrub myself raw in the shower so you couldn’t smell me, sense how much I wanted you all fucking night. I’d come to work and turn my heart off, bury my feelings so deep that even now I can barely scratch the surface of them. I did it for years, Mulder.” She takes a deep, shaky breath. “So when my mother introduced me to a nice man with a little girl, I decided to go for it. And I almost forget how to really feel something. But you… you never let me forget. And the rational choices cease to make sense.” She sniffs noisily. “You turned my entire world upside down.”

He hangs his head. “I’m sorry-” he begins.

“No,” Scully interrupts. “No, Mulder. I don’t want your guilt, or your pity; I don’t need it. I want you, and me. I want us to be the two broken people we are, healing. We can’t keep hurting each other with misguided attempts to protect each other.”

“What do you mean, then? How do we stop?”

“By being honest,” she says, coming around the coffee table and perching on the edge of the couch. “We start here. Right now.”

“I-I don’t know how much more clear or honest I could possible be,” Mulder stammers. “The letter spelled it out. My cards are on the table.”

“They are,” she agrees, “But you wrote under the assumption that I wouldn’t reciprocate. You left no room for alternatives.”

“Alternatives being…”

Scully’s eyes are pleading. “Mulder,” she whispers, beseeching.

There’s a knock on the door.

Mulder glances over his shoulder, startled out of their moment. “I ordered Thai,” he explains. “If you’re here, then that must be the delivery guy,” he says.

Scully nods. “Likely.” She gets up from the sofa and crosses to the desk, fetching the tissue box there. “You should-”

“Answer the door, yeah,” Mulder agrees absently, standing and feeling his pockets for his wallet.

The bored teenager on the other side of the door holds the bag out. “Sixteen forty-nine,” he says.

“Give him a twenty,” Scully instructs from the living room, blowing her nose.

Mulder digs a bill out of his wallet and hands it to the delivery guy. “You and the Mrs have a good night,” the boy says, stifling a yawn as he shoves the money into the pack on his waist.

“That tip was what, twenty-five percent?” Mulder grouses, setting the bag on the coffee table.

“Oh, so you can do math,” Scully says, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. “So what’s your excuse for being a lousy tipper, then?”

“Spoken like a former waitress,” Mulder mumbles.

“You’re goddamn right,” Scully says. “Best IHOP server in San Diego.”

Her bravado contrasts sharply with her puffy eyes and watery voice, and Mulder wants to pull her into his arms and never let go.

“You want any of this?” he asks, pulling steaming cartons out of the bag. “There’s plenty for both of us, and if you don’t eat I’ll feel like a crappy host.”

She sits back down on the couch, setting the tissue box on the coffee table. “If you don’t mind sharing,” she concedes.

“I’ll grab you a fork,” he replies, giving her knee a squeeze.

They eat quietly, passing cartons between them, migrating together until they’re shoulder to shoulder in the center of the couch.

“So,” Mulder says, “Before the food got here, we were talking about something pretty important.”

Scully nods, turning her fork to wind noodles around the tines. “That we were,” she agrees.

“About honesty,” he prompts. “Alternatives.”

Scully sets her fork down, closes her eyes. “This… this is difficult for me, Mulder. It’s surreal; I didn’t expect this outcome for us. For you to… to feel the way you do,” she clarifies.

“On the contrary,” Mulder says, “I feel like this was always going to happen, from the day we met. Somewhere deep in my mind I knew I was going to fall in love with you.”

Scully looks at him then, eyes wide.

“Th-that’s the first time I’ve said that aloud,” he says in realization, eyes not leaving hers.

Scully nods. “How’d it feel?” she asks softly.

Mulder licks his lip. “Kinda depends on how it felt for you,” he responds, voice low.

She takes a deep breath. “Call me crazy, but I think I need to hear it again.”

He nods, then on impulse leans in until his mouth is next to her ear, strands of coppery hair tickling his cheek. “I’m in love with you,” he murmurs.

Scully reflexively grips the edge of the couch cushion. “Don’t,” she warns, voice husky and breathier than he expected. “I’m not ready.”

He draws back. “Ready for what?” he asks.

She smoothes her hair behind her ear. “You,” she says simply, looking him up and down out of the corner of her eye. She picks up her fork and takes another bite of noodles. “I’ve spent so long in denial, Mulder, I feel… flammable. Like the smallest spark could just…” she motions to herself. “Destroy my equilibrium, or something.”

“Is this the official medical terminology? Because I’m not familiar,” he quips.

She huffs a laugh. “No, Mulder. What I’m trying to say is that I think we should go slow. Whatever ‘going’ means, in this case.”

“But we are a we,” he clarifies.

“Yes, I think we are,” Scully says tenderly, facing him again. “I… I want to be. But I’m processing things, so I need you to give me time.”

You can have my whole life. “That’s fine by me,” he assures her. “So you think we have a spark, Scully?”

She licks her upper lip, nodding. “Oh yes,” she says, eyes flicking down to his mouth. “Yes, we do.”

He leans back into the couch cushions. “Well then,” he says, eyeing her lazily, “When you feel like starting some fires… I’m your boy.”

[thebadgerclan]

Fortune

Pairing: Jesper Fahey x reader

Requested by Anonymous

Summary: After years, fortune is on your side...

A/N: This is a little different from the initial request, it’s an AU where the Crows get their money after the Ice Court and move on to bigger and better things.  There’s more of the domestic fluff that casual intimacy, but I think you’ll still enjoy

Everything was different now.  The Dregs were a well respected, the most well respected, gang in Ketterdam, Jesper could walk the streets without looking over his shoulder every three seconds, and he was 4 million kruge richer.  With a decent amount of the money, he’d bought the two of you a house on the Geldstraat, a literal mansion.  There were more rooms than you knew what to do with, but plenty of room for your friends should they choose to visit.  But it was home, and you’d never been happier.

Jesper had your arm linked with his as the pair of you walked through the Zelver District.  You wore a fine dress of pink silk, the hem trimmed in gold lace.  Jewels hung from your ears and neck, showing off your newfound prosperity.  Jesper’s clothes were of similar quality, fine Ravkan suede, Zemini cotton, expensive materials that only a month ago would have been laughable.  The security Jesper had tail him were likely somewhere behind the two of you, far enough away that they wouldn’t be noticed, but close enough to jump in should something happen.

A window in a shop advertised a book you’d been wanting to read, and Jesper saw your eyes stray to it immediately.  “Come on, lovely,” he said, leading you into the store.  You smiled as you entered, making a beeline for the shelf housing the book you wanted.  You returned a moment later, the tome clutched to your chest.  Jesper took it from you and paid the clerk, tucking it into his coat.  “Thank you, darling,” you said, and Jesper kissed your forehead.  “Anything for my baby.”

The streets were crowded, which put Jesper on edge.  He was a rich man now, a well respected man, but he would likely never shake the urge to check his pockets, to make sure his belongings were still with him, and to make sure you didn’t stray from his side.  He took your arm again, pulling you a bit closer to his side.  “Everything alright?” you asked, sensing his slight unease.  Jesper simply nodded, lifting your hand to his lips, kissing it sweetly.  “Just don’t want to lose you in the crowd.”

The two of you wound your way through Ketterdam’s twisting streets until you arrived back at your home.  Jesper opened the door for you and you stepped inside.  Your housekeeper, Elizaveta, was waiting to take your coats, a smile on her face.  “How was your afternoon, ma’am?”  “Wonderful,” you replied, kicking off your shoes, but lining them up neatly by the door.  “Dinner will be ready shortly.”  You both nodded, making your way into the grand dining room.

It was comical how large the room was, yet only holding a table set for two.  But before you could take your seat, Jesper lifted you into his arms, sitting down and settling you in his lap.  “Jes!” you laughed.  “What are you doing?”  “Can’t a man want to hold his girl?”  “He can,” you conceded.  “But during dinner?”  “Hey, my house, my rules.”  You laughed and pressed a kiss to his lips, keeping them there until the kitchen staff laid the table.

Once dinner was eaten and cleared away, Jesper set you on your feet.  “I have to go over the ledgers,” he said, unable to hide the sadness of leaving your side.  “Don’t be too long,” you said, and he nodded, kissing your forehead.  “I won’t be.”  You made your way upstairs while Jesper entered his study.  The bedroom was just as grand as the rest of the house, but far more personal, intimate.  There were clothes draped over the back of the loveseat, the bed was unmade, photos of the two of you hung all over the walls.

You removed the dress you’d worn, replacing it with a soft cotton nightdress.  A silk robe was next, loosely tied at your waist, before you removed your earrings.  You made yourself comfortable on the loveseat, cracking your new book open.  Only a few chapters in, the door opened and shut, and Jesper entered.  He stood in the doorway for a moment, just looking at you.  Candlelight cast your body in a golden glow, and he couldn’t help but think how lucky he was that you were his.

“Are you going to stare at me all night?” you asked, not lifting your eyes from your book.  “If you’re gonna look that damn gorgeous, then yes, I suppose I will.”  You laughed, marking your place in your book and setting it aside, getting to your feet and slinking across the room towards your man.  “I could say the same for you,” you said, resting palms on his chest.  “You’re looking rather handsome tonight as well.”  “Don’t I always, love?”  You laughed harder, going up on your tiptoes and kissing him.

Jesper wrapped his arms around your middle, holding you close as you kissed him.  “I love you, Y/N,” he whispered.  “Saints, I love you.  Every single day, I have to remind myself that this isn’t a dream.”  “That what isn’t a dream?” you asked, and Jesper smiled.  “This, everything.  That we really live in this massive house, that I have more kruge than I know what to do with, that you’re my girl.  Ghezen has surely blessed us.”  You barked a laugh at that, Jesper’s words sounding more like Matthias’ than his own. “I thought you didn’t believe in that religious zeal,” you said, and Jesper nodded.  “I don’t, but thanks can’t go amiss, can they?”  You exited his arms, swatting his chest playfully.  “I won’t be here when the lightning strikes, love,” you said, holding your hands up in mock surrender.  Without warning, Jesper charged at you, tackling you onto the bed behind you.  “Oh yes you will,” he said, kissing every inch of skin he could reach.  “If I go down, then so do you!”

You laughed harder as he tickled you, kissing your neck and face, until you were breathless.  “Jes!  Jes, stop, please!”  “Only if you promise to get struck by lightning with me!”  “Fine, I promise!”  He relented, kissing you sweetly and tenderly, lying on his side next to you.  “I love this,” Jesper mused.  “I love our life, I love this house, I love you.”  “I love you too, Jesper.  You and our life.”  After years of being at the bottom of the barrel, quite literally, fortune was on your side.

[kpopchangedme]

Bang Chan | Royal Affair [M]

Your fiancé had always been audacious but you never thought he'd dare sneak into your royal quarters after nightfall...

Protagonists: Bang Chan & You (ft. a very wise Park Jinyoung)

Word Count: 4.7k

Genre: NSFW | SMUT | Romance | Princess | First Time | **Sexually explicit** - [Drabble 2k]

Prompt: “If you keep looking me like that I won’t be able to handle myself” [for @marklee-johnnyseo​​]

Stray Kids | M.list

You barely had time to register your advisor's toupet before ducking behind a stone bench. Muffling your giggles with your palm, you looked back at Chan who wasn’t doing any better. His eyes had creased, glimmering with amusement, and his cheeks were reddened from your little run. Your heart swelled at the lovely sight. Still beaming, he reached, brushing a strand away from your face. His fingers lingered there, trailing your ear until they were against your nape. The moment stretched into infinity before he claimed them back once your silent laughter died down. Your advisor’s calls echoed, still looking for you in the maze of the French Gardens. He was getting more urgent by the minute but you didn’t mind.

There was not much time left for you two anyway.

Chan leaned in and you removed your hand, tilting your head to receive his furtive kiss. Softly, his lips ghosted over yours, the touch barely a graze before it was gone. Keeping your eyes shut, you savoured the moment as your fiancé’s breath climbed on your cheek until it was in the crook of your neck. His other hand slid on the grass, finding yours to intertwine fingers. 

“Write to me,” he demanded in a whisper. A shiver travelled your spine.

“Every day,” you gladly promised, “I’ll expect you back at the palace soon nonetheless.”

Chan chuckled softly, nose tickling your ear. “I’ll come before the first snowfall.”

“Winter is so far away,” you whined right back.

“You’ll pray for a cold Autumn, I'm sure.”

“There you go, teasing me again...” 

“I will neither rest nor eat before every single enemy of the throne is defeated...” He was only half-joking. “The sooner the rebellion is quashed, the sooner I’ll be called back.” 

“Chan, don’t be foolis–”

“Y/n…” He was more serious when he interrupted your scolding and sat, staring at you intently. “Tonight–”

“Princess!” Chan jerked backwards at Jinyoung’s interruption, startled to have been discovered so soon and you jumped up, panting. “Lord Bang!”

“Sir Park!” The young Lord exclaimed with similar disparagement making you snort.

“The Queen has called you to her chambers,” the advisor quipped back, highly unimpressed, and your stomach sank at the news. “While I believe you – Lord Bang – were expected by the House half an hour ago.” Tugging at your dress that had been goofed by your short escape and run through the gardens, you missed Chan’s magistral eye roll. “The Duke doesn’t like to be kept waiting, my Lord,” Walking the fine line between impoliteness and indisputable truth, Jinyoung smiled haughtily. If you hadn’t just been caught fooling around with your fiancé, perhaps you’d have more ground to call out the royal advisor on his attitude problem, but he was an expert at that game. Jinyoung always won when it came to reason.

“Who would dare make my uncle wait to order me around?” Sarcastic, Chan excused himself before hurrying to the House of Lords, not without one last heavy look your way. He'd probably come to the same conclusion as you; fighting your advisor with words was not worth the wasted effort. 

Later, Chan's wink assured. Sure, your coy smile replied.

You would see him soon enough.

Before the first snowfall, he had promised.

___

The night had come, you were now sitting in front of your tinted glass, trying to loosen the knot in your stomach as well as the ones in your hair. Your discussion with the Queen and Jinyoung had made you wary, painting the Duke in a new much grimmer light. You couldn't shake the dread of their suspicions.

They'd said you were getting old enough so they didn't see any point in shielding you from the matters of the throne anymore. As they’d voiced their concerns over the power-crazed leader of the House of Lords only one thing had been on your mind.

Jinyoung's usually wise judgement was unforgiving, he was certain the Duke was weaponizing the rebellion to ensure instability throughout your future kingdom. There were only a few months left before your wedding, before your older sister's planned abdication. The people loved you but you were still young, having the support of the House was requisite for your coronation to go seamlessly. 

Something only an alliance with one of the most powerful families could ensure. 

Your trust in Chan was unwavering and so was your advisor’s, remarkably so. But said loyalty, as it turned out, was the main cause of your worries tonight.

If Chan married you as intended, his uncle's ambitions would be laid to rest... But if your soon-to-be High King was to never return from his latest military assignment...

Something cold stirred in the pit of your stomach.

If Jinyoung was right, and to your knowledge, he was rarely ever not, this could all be a plot by the horrid Duke to have you marry him instead.

Chan was leaving for the frontlines at dawn tomorrow and now you couldn't help thinking back to his wink, that kiss in the gardens, wondering if this would be your last farewell.

A muffled sound right outside your window pulled you out of your anguish. 

You held your breath, listening keenly for a few seconds. Another thud, louder and unmistakenly closer this time. Standing in fear, you glanced back at your door. Should you hail the guards? The last time you had been frightened, it’d turned out to be a simple rodent in your parapet. Against disturbing them, you grabbed your letter opener and tiptoed to the large window by yourself. Just as you were leaning over, a formless shadow hoisted itself up making you yelped in terror. Startled, the dark silhouette raised its head and your hand around the paper cutter loosened.

"C-Chan!”

“I thought I saw an early snowflake f...” Seeing your poor state, your fearless fiancé shut up and lost the dumb smile, still crouched on your stone window frame. “By God, were you about to gut me?”

“Princess?”

There was a knock on your door and the fortune weapon slipped your fingers, falling on your carpet. You might be promised to one another, but sneaking into the royal quarters was still a crime punishable by beheading. Without thinking, you shoved Chan behind the embroidered folding screen in the corner of your room. Thankfully just in time, since half a second later your guard busted in, sword drawn.

“My apologies...” Jackson hastily faced back the door when he caught a glimpse of your indecent attire and put his weapon away. “I thought I heard you scream, your Royal Highness.”

“Y-Yes...” you admitted, heart in a frenzy. “I, uh, thought I saw… A squirrel at the window!”

“Oh,” you cringed at the smile in his voice, “Want me to get rid of it? Where–”

“NO!” Jackson froze again when you yelled, about to step closer.

From his fortune hiding spot, Chan didn't seem worried about his head at all. He had noticed something far more interesting. Blushing furiously, you kicked his shin when he reached for your lacy bodice, discarded over the folded screen. He hissed through his teeth at the hit, making the royal guard glance over his shoulder once again, curious. 

“Very well then Princess,” lingering suspicion in his eyes, Jackson conceded half-heartedly, “I’ll keep post.” Relieved, you thanked him and he excused himself. As soon as your door safely shut again, you faced the troublemaker, astounded.

Nevermind the Duke's scheming, Chan would end up executed before your wedding and coronation all on his own.

“What are you doing?” He pulled you behind the screen with him, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Wondering…” He pressed a tentative peck on your cheek, undoubtedly heated by his antics. “Is this the haven that sees you undress daily?” Chan’s fingers grabbed a silk ribbon, hooked into your abandoned bodice, and you groaned, highly embarrassed. “I feel like I am having the most vivid dream, love.”

“You shouldn’t have come, you need to leave. If we get caught...” Your skin betrayed you, shivering as he pressed a second kiss to your jawline, at the very beginning of your neck. 

“Mmm… Don't want to.” He brought his mouth back to your left ear, breath tickling it. “Are you gonna scream for your guard, Princess?” 

“Chan…” You sighed in defeat when he cupped your face, running a thumb on your cheek.

This was nothing like your usual escapades in the gardens or dark, empty alcoves. You were both well aware of it. With only your nightgown on, you could feel the warmth of his body and you were sure that if he looked down, he’d see through the sheer fabric.

“I’m leaving in a few hours,” he lamented, and you weren't sure if he meant your bedroom or for his mission. Since you didn’t protest, he kissed your mouth, soft but firmer than earlier that afternoon. There was no one to interrupt this time, and his mouth opened yours, tentatively tasting your tongue. Throwing decency out the window, you pressed closer, and Chan had to step back and lean against the wall to remain up. 

“You are mad.” You accused in a whisper, not minding at all. 

“Smitten,” he replied, forehead against yours to stare into your eyes. His arms slid on the fine fabric, stopping where your lower back curved in.

“This is insane,” your own hands travelled on his neck, “we’ll get caught and you’ll get punished.”

“I would’ve died from not seeing you alone before I left.” His lips pressed yours again. “Execution will be far more pleasing knowing I had you unattended.”

“Don’t tease,” you groaned seriously, tilting your head upwards but he only smiled against your mouth.

“I am not, my love… You are killing me.” His tongue grazed your lower lip stealing you an unfamiliar mewl. Suddenly, Chan pushed you to safety, away from him. He seemed almost frightened by the lewd sound, face coloured, lips glistening, breathless. 

It got even worse when he finally looked down at your nightgown, your chest was naked, brushing against the fabric. Even in the candlelight, he could distinguish your shaded nipples, very little was left to his imagination. His gaze darkened as his chin dropped, the faint lighting stretching eerie shadows on his features.

“Do you always sleep in this?” Your modesty screamed to cover yourself, but something about the way he hushed those words, almost like an accusation, kept you from doing so. Your chin bobbed and Chan exhaled heavily, running his fingers through your strands. He hadn’t seen your hair loose since you both were kids. Back then you could spend every day together without any adult thinking much of it. “When are our nuptials again?”

“Chan…” You protested faintly at his humour, but he didn't seem to hear the wariness in your voice. His imminent absence and the dangers ahead weighed you down, but he was still high on the thrill of his illicit stunt.

“If you keep looking at me like that…” He heaved, gaze heavy with more unsaid improper things. This was not the look of a boy, but one of a grown man. “I want you so much I’m contemplating treason right now.”

“Oh, just now contemplating treason?” Tilting your head, you raised a skeptical brow. It was your turn to get caught up in the game “You climbed here knowing very well there would be no chaperone, Chan.”

“I mustn’t have thought that far ahead.” He so obviously lied that you quietly laughed, covering your whole face with your hands. “Y/n…” Chan exhaled, as though reading your mind. “Don't worry, I won’t do anything irrevocable. I’m not that foolish, that's not what I am here for.” Misreading.

“What are you even implying?” Faking offence, you backed away, letting him get the full view of your negligee. “Do I look like a lady of the evening to you, Lord Bang?” It took Chan everything to not follow you, drooling. Oddly bashful, he looked away, unable to see you standing near your large canopy bed like that. It’d be way too easy to lay you right here and then. His ears were scarlet at the simple thought.

“I merely wanted to see you before leaving. I would never suggest anything along those lines, your Royal Highness...” His voice was so ushered this time that you almost misheard. You glanced at the door, knowing full well no one would come back until your morning routine.

“I am aware, Chan.” Playful, you waved him, but he didn’t budge, feet glued to the carpet. “You are not a gentleman to climb into a lady’s room at night. You would never!” 

His mouth quivered before he snorted; “I am a nobleman.”

“Besides...” You extended a hand for him to come closer again, the picture of Authority. “I’m saving myself for my husband.”

At that, Chan couldn’t resist, his perfect pout broke into a wide smile. “Lucky bastard,” he mused before finally obeying. Your hands slid up his vest as soon as he got close enough.

“Watch your tongue,” you chastised with a grin, “you’re talking about my future king.”

“Apologies, Princess...” He hummed, bending to claim your lips once more. Breathing him in, you let your fingers run through his dark curls as his tongue tasted yours. You felt lightweight, about to break at any of his touches now. When you began leaning back, pulling him down with you, Chan tugged your wrists off him, startled.

His stupefaction was priceless.

“W-What are you doing?”

“Lay with me.” You requested, dead serious. His mouth fell open in consternation. Chan looked at the door, then at you, then at the window. 

“You are the one who's gone mad.” He accused, roles reversed. He had only climbed here for a kiss and a farewell, not your ruin.

“Yes,” you admitted, not the least shameful. “My fiancé is leaving for the frontlines and I am mad he is going without questioning his orders.” And I don’t know if I'll ever see you again.

“I am expected to be the frolicsome one, y/n.”

“Love made me crazy.” When you tugged at him again, he didn’t protest any further, falling above you with a sigh. If Chan had sensed your despair he didn't let it show. Your mattress protested loudly at the unusual additional weight. Both of you became stone, waiting with bated breath to be discovered. Thankfully, no guard burst in to save your honour.

Chan watched in a daze as you went and undo the buttons of his vest. It took longer since your fingers were made shaky by nerves. In the end, he sat back and helped, shrugging the garment to the floor. When he laid on top of you, he was in nothing but his own thin shirt. You both stared at the other in marvel. You were used to furtive stolen touches, the heat of his fingers intertwined with yours... This new warmth was outstanding, having him against you so close to your heart felt fantastic, almost skin on skin.

Chan was the first one to get a hold of himself, pressing closer, he kissed you once more. This time, his kiss was feverish and morphed into many. While your hands kept toying with his curls and exploring his large shoulders, Chan showed more restraint, settling for your face and loose hair. Even with just that, you were affected, a mess of pants and laments. None of you seemed to care to stop.

When you felt how hard he was in his pants, you were unsurprised. You had heard of that through the grapevines, eavesdrop on conversations. You had even witnessed two-person being intimate once as a child. Secretly observed one of your guards and a maid fool around. You'd thought about that day more and more often recently. Imagined yourself bent over that chair, Chan buried under your skirt. You'd wonder what kind of sounds he’d made.

“Hey,” Chan shifted his weight to stand on his elbows, frowning, “are you comfortable?” You shook your head, hands sliding clumsily to the buttons of his pants.

“More...” Your order was almost inaudible but his eyebrows raised in awe.

Chan shifted again, raising above just enough to allow you to undo the first button on his crotch. It was involuntary though because he immediately sat back. You followed, kneeling on the bed to kiss his neck as you kept working on your new task. 

“Y/n,” he called, voice shaky, “are you serious?” You only hummed in response, tongue tracing his collarbone. You felt him shudder when you finally managed to access his pants. Your hand wrapped around his manhood but you were unsure what to do from then on. Chan’s mouth opened on nothing, goosebumps visible thanks to the loose collar of his shirt. His tip was leaking on your wrist. Gently, you rubbed his thin skin, making him twitch into your palm in response. You paused again, frightened he was hurt.  

“S-Sorry…” Biting your lips, you were about to pull away when Chan's hand swiftly wrapped around yours. Head low, he gulped, guiding your palm over his hard sex. You watched your intertwined fingers move as one in the glow of the candles, gaze wide. For someone who was reticent to go on, he seemed oddly powerless now.

“What should I do?” The young Lord asked breathlessly, cupping your cheek to pull you into an umpteenth embrace. “I'm at wits’ end, love.”

“We don't know when you'll be back.” If.

“Yet we are not wedded.”

You would be in a matter of days if it weren't from this stupid rebellion. Your families had originally planned for a summer ceremony. Jinyoung had even pointed that out today as part of his suspicions, though if he found out you were twisting his logic to consummate your marriage in advance... Your advisor would probably strangle you with his bare hands himself.

"Does it matter that much?” Chan stared at your question, eyes shimmering in the shadow of his brow bone. “What is one more promise in front of the Queen and House gonna change? I am already yours.”

“Y/n…” He made your name sound dangerous. Exhaling in defeat, Chan slid his hand up your thighs, a gesture that left your skin humming deliciously. “I never belonged to anyone else.”

His hands didn't stop there, they kept climbing and soon they reached where your legs and hips met. Hiking smoothly your body and raising your nightgown, Chan let them roam you until you were exposed and in an instant, he was over you. Done with shilly-shallying and obviously giving in to his most primal urges. You were all too eager to welcome him, buried by his large chest in your mattress like all those fantasies. You didn’t mind the slight awkwardness of his prentice's ways or his now sloppier kisses. You took it all, shaking yourself from a strange fuse of fear and elation.

He was the one who finally made his clothes fully vanish, keeping you busy and distracted with his mouth. Then he was after your nightgown, delicately rolling it up until you were fully bare under him; skin to skin. Chan's breath was hitched, weakened when he pulled away to observe your reaction, a curious look on his face. 

“I love you,” he confessed and you'd have rolled your eyes if he hadn't said it ever so slightly more seriously than all those other times prior.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, so loud it felt like the guards outside might hear it. You cupped his face, thumb running on his cheekbones and on his earlobes while your fingers danced on his nape. Chan shuts his eyes at the caress, shoulders loosening. You wanted to remember him like that forever, swollen, crazy hair, honey skin, feel his weight over yours and his warmth everywhere. He was yours.  

Insanely enough, when his eyes opened again to meet yours, you knew he meant more. “Forever,” your fiancé insisted, lips hooking into his familiar smirk. 

The following kisses were diligent and purposeful, making you both almost forget your predicament. Almost, because your crotch was throbbing, burning and demanding like never before. If you could only guess, he was not doing much better. Chan's sex was pressed against you, long and stiff, slowly smearing wetness on your lower stomach. Mechanically, his hips rolled forward with each kiss, rubbing you both torturously. You were in shambles, sweating and feverish under him. You needed more of him so that’s exactly what you begged for, in a raspy whisper you didn't recognize of yourself. 

Eager to oblige, Chan wandered down, letting his length fall between your legs. His cock brushed over your sex and though you wanted him, your thighs jerked, only being kept apart by his own. He didn't seem to mind, pressing consoling kisses along your jaw and neck as he slowly ghosted over you again.

Chan hitched your legs higher, the tip of him stretching your entrance. It wasn't as absolute as you’d imagined when he made his way inside you. There was no divine uproar, no intense strain, nothing broken or ruined. Ultimately, it wouldn't have mattered, nothing mattered like his ardent breath on your neck and the feel of him as he rocked into you, just a little. Chan moved slowly, soft throbs as though he couldn't bear to pull all the way out.

You wanted him to keep going, could not have borne it either after being this united. He withdrew and pushed into you again, each time a little deeper until finally, he paused. Chan raised above, out of focus, leaning his forehead against yours. There were no words, so he didn't even try. Under your palms, his shoulders were shaky, unstable, and you held on tighter. His hips were pressed into yours, your bodies banded together in a crowning figure.

When Chan moved again it was almost unplanned, a primitive impulse to keep going, feel you, own you. Deadened sounds that could have come from either of you broke the silence of the room, as reserved and furtive as a secret. He pushed into you repeatedly, breathing hollowing with each thrust. His hips became more insistent, hitting yours. Your legs opened of their own accord allowing him deeper, closer. A sense of urgency you had never felt before overpowered you. You tugged him down to claim his mouth, his breath came in pants, hot in your mouth. Your body had started to rock in rhythm as he grinded into you. Chan's own desperation rendered more evident by the way he moved.

His hand slid down on your thigh, pulling you tighter against him, caging himself. You obliged following his lead, both learning together. His head fell back in the crook of your neck, too heavy to be held. 

“I love you,” Chan growled in your ear, so unrecognizable it sent shivers across your skin. 

You clung to his neck, carried by the need to possess him. “I love you,” your words were hoarse, weak compared to his but his hold still tightened impossibly around you. 

He drove into you harder, greedily. Your fingers threaded together, holding on tight as he pressed you to the bed. Overwhelmed by both the need to escape this building throb and wanting to get more of him at the same time, you arched up. Chan's rhythm was stuttering, coming apart as he lost grip on reality. You tilted your hips, spasming around him, unable to keep going and his body shuddered into yours. 

Chan held you tight as he came, roughly crushing you into the mattress. You would've protested at the weight, but nothing had ever felt more right than having him inside you like that. He rolled next to you soon after, length falling out.

Silence shrouded your room as both your breathing lulled, solemn witness to the gravity of your conduct. Trembling, Chan pulled your nightgown down to cover your modesty, burning hand lingering on your thigh. You were still squished, held strongly against him and he showed no desire to depart.

“My Lord,” you murmured into his chest, making it shake in response.

“Yes. I am afraid you are stuck with me now, Princess.”

“Oh, what a shame.”

“Indeed,” he chuckled, hugging even tighter. 

“So, you have no choice but to come back now.”

If he hadn’t noticed your burden earlier, your comment certainly raised alarm.

“Y/n,” Chan exhaled, prudent. He gazed down at you, peering through his lashes. “Why would you even say that?” He had meant to say it lightly, but something in his tone hinted he wasn’t so honest. Which he realized right away; “I will be back.”

“Mmm...” You held your breath nervously, “Because you promised.”

He brought your hand to his mouth, “Promise.” He kissed it lightly before frowning, “Only if you behave with Sir Park while I'm away.”

“Jinyoung,” you repeated in disbelief at his seemingly random request, “I never thought I'd see the day...”

Chan laughed hollowly, a little easier. “He's not all bad.”

“You know, he said something similar about you earlier… Though I am certain his opinion would wave in light of recent affairs.”

“He did not.” You heard the smile in his voice, muffled by your hair.

“No,” he laughed once more, mouth now pressed to your forehead, “but I assure you I am very well behaved whenever you are not involved, Lord Bang. Everyone knows I am the moral one.”

“Are you, Princess?” Chan rolled over, raising on his elbow to eye you suspiciously. He had found his new natural position between your legs and your heartbeat quickened. “You have stolen my virtue. The bed isn’t even cold yet.”

“No reasonable soul would believe that.”

You tugged him down for a deep kiss, swallowing his laughter; “What a regent and ruthless thing to say, you are going to be good at this ruling thing.” Chan grinded forward with the kiss and you arched reflectively. He hummed in appreciation, “my Queen...”

“My King,” you found yourself echoing nauseatingly.

His chest vibrated against yours in a strangled sound, "I should be on my way." 

His impossibly large grin widened when he witnessed your dissatisfied scowl. Chan gathered his clothes and got dressed under your cold scrutiny. Too fast, his bare legs disappeared into his trousers. His vest was next, covering his thin shirt. You pouted, still a wreck on your mattress in your sheer attire. Your room seemed awfully freezing now that you had gotten a taste of what it would be like to share a bed with your husband.

Chan seemed to notice your shiver when you sat up and he cautiously neared the bed. His index raised your chin to force your gazes to meet.

“I do mean it,” he said with a grave voice you rarely knew him, “listen to your advisor and the Queen. You must be particularly careful until I return.”

“Chan,” you hushed, the name barely coming out, “you are the one who needs to be, the Duke–”

Your warning got stiffled by his lips and he delivered, almost making you lose your mind all over. When Chan straightened again, there was a darker glint to his eyes. Barely there before he blinked it to oblivion, but it was enough for you to know your cautioning would've been vain.

He wasn't a child anymore and he certainly was not a pawn to his uncle.

“Do not write anything too scandalous in those letters you promised, love.” Back to his usual poise, Chan was walking back to his exit. “I am positive Sir Park is intercepting our correspondence.”

This managed to make you grin at least, loosening the knot in your stomach. "Of course."

“That must be why the man loathes me,”

“That is just him being wise.”

Chan chuckled lowly, glancing at your bedroom door as he balanced his feet outside your window. “Before the first snowfall, love.” He winked as you shook your head in disbelief, “Thank you for the farewell favour, I am looking forward to our nuptials, Princess.”

And at that, he was gone into the night, your heart and virtue with him.

The separation didn't loom over you like the proverbial sword of Damocles anymore and it wasn't long before you fell asleep that night.

Because you knew this would not be the last you'd see of your playful lover...

Stray Kids | M.list

[annabethy]

doctor, doctor

in which Annabeth is pregnant and Percy is a super hot sexy doctor,, percabeth

Annabeth isn’t entirely sure what’s her imagination and what’s reality anymore. To be quite honest, she doesn’t care to decipher between the two either because her stomach is protruding far enough from her body that her sleep is scarce, and she’s not about to ruin that just to see if Percy got out of bed.

She doesn’t need to open her eyes and check anyways because he’s pressing a kiss to her forehead a second later. It causes her to stir, and she kicks up one leg to her side, stretching her arms.

“Hey, beautiful.”

Annabeth cracks open an eye and a lazy smile morphs onto her lips. The sun still hasn’t popped over the horizon – she estimates it’s around six in the morning. She yawns. “Why are you up?”

Percy brushes her hair out of her face before his hand trails down to circle around her bump where her shirt has ridden up. His fingers tickle the skin lightly. “I have to go to work.”

Annabeth frowns. It’s dark in the room and her vision is still blurry, but she can see the backpack he’s holding that she knows contains the things he’ll need throughout the day. It makes her unjustifiably sad because she knows the backpack means he’ll be gone for a long time. She’s so close to her due date that she can’t go to work herself, and all she really wants to do is snuggle up against him and sleep, which she can’t do if Percy’s at the hospital until she’s asleep again.

“Stay with me,” she pleads, hands blindly reaching out to grab him by the shirt. He concedes and leans down next to her so he’s on his knees facing her. He kisses her a few more times and nudges her with his nose.

“I wish I could,” he says softly. “But I have to saves some lives first.”

Annabeth groans, rolling over so that her back is to him.

“Hello?” Percy pokes her back playfully. “Anyone home?”

“Not you,” she deadpans.

“Aw.” Annabeth hears Percy stand back up and grab the bag by his feet. “Sick people need me to help them feel better.”

“What if I’m sick and need you to make me feel better?” she questions.

“Are you sick?”

Annabeth pauses. “Yes.” She pointedly coughs.

“Cute.”

She looks over her shoulder and finds him staring at her lovingly.

“I shouldn’t be gone too long,” he promises, rubbing her back soothingly. “Three in the afternoon.”

“You love your job more than me,” she breathes dramatically.

Percy laughs lightly. “That’s not possible. Now I have to leave now, so are you going to give me a kiss?”

“No.”

“Please?’

Annabeth pouts but flips back over. It’s actually quite mortifying the way she struggles to face him, her stomach proving to be an obstacle, but Percy helps her sit up. The kiss is short and sweet, and when he pulls away, he brushes her face affectionately. “I love you,” he says.

“Love you too,” she says back, but she’s pouting. Percy kisses her once more.

“I won’t be gone long. Go back to sleep, okay? You need the rest.”

She rolls her eyes and nods, laying back down. Percy helps lift the covers around her, and he disappears for a moment to refill the glass of water by her nightstand. It makes her roll her eyes fondly when he comments on how thirsty she is, but it also makes her feel warm that he’s noticed. It’s something he’s been doing recently, bringing her water in the middle of the night because he cares about her.

Annabeth feels oddly deflated when she hears the front door shut behind Percy when he leaves for work. She lays in bed for at least an hour, just watching the sun slowly begin to rise through the closed blinds of the window. Sleep doesn’t come for a while, and she blames Percy for waking her up in the first place. But she’s also glad he woke her up because as disappointed as she is that he left, she’d be even more upset if she just woke up with him gone.

He’s going to be such a good dad, she thinks. A hot dad, too. She’s sure she’s told him a million times but there’s just something about him in scrubs that gets her going. When he was in his residency, she didn’t think he could get any more attractive than in those light blue scrubs, but then…

Those navy blue attending scrubs makes her a bit more hot and bothered than she cares to admit.

At some point, she thankfully does fall back asleep. It’s some of the best sleep too because after being awake for hours in the early hours of the morning, there’s something otherworldly about sleeping in. She’s content sleeping until Percy gets home actually, but all hope goes flying out the window when she wakes up and feels overbearingly nauseous.

She stares at the ceiling trying to figure out what exactly woke her up, but it takes a few seconds of fighting the urge to pass out before she realizes her phone is ringing beside her head.

"Hello?"

Percy’s voice appears over the line. “I’ve been calling you. Are you okay?”

“I’m great.” Annabeth’s following cough says otherwise. “What do you need?”

“Nothing,” he says, laughing. “I’ll be home in an hour. Do you want anything to eat?”

Annabeth groans, the sound of any food disgusting. “No thank you.”

“I’ll get you something for later then.” Percy pauses, and Annabeth closes her eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound sick.”

“Because you jinxed it by leaving,” she tells him. “I told you to stay and play doctor with me.”

“I’ll come play doctor in a little bit,” he says jokingly. “See you soon. I love you.”

She barely musters the energy to repeat the three words back before he hangs up, leaving her to wallow in pain and misery. Realistically, she just kicks her blanket off in a sudden wave of heat and she falls back asleep.

When her eyes decide they’re ready to blink back open, it’s to Percy sitting next to her, a hand pressed to her bare stomach.

She smiles lazily, taking in the sight of him. He’s still in his scrubs, much to her delight. “Hey, sexy doctor.”

Percy purses his lips to suppress a grin at the comment. “Hey, you. You’re sick.”

“Nah.”

Percy raises an eyebrow. “Nah?”

“Mhm.” “You have a fever,” he says. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “You wanted to go see your work wife,” she accuses. “I don’t have a work wife,” he tells her.

“Sure you don’t.”

Percy looks at her as though to say, really?

“I’m okay,” she assures, “I’ve just been sleeping all day.”

“Did you take anything to help?”

“No,” she admits. “I was waiting for my personal doctor to come help.”

“Where is he?”

Annabeth pokes Percy’s neck, and he grabs her finger to press the tip to his lips. “Right here.”

“Yeah? You want me to take care of you?”

“What’s the point of dating a doctor otherwise?”

“We’re married, you doofus.”

Annabeth snickers. “I forgot.”

Percy’s hand is still rubbing her stomach as he stares into space blankly.

“What does the doctor prescribe?”

“Lots of cuddles,” is his answer.

Annabeth opens her arms, smiling when Percy settles into them. He rests his head on her chest gently, and it makes her heart feel full. He’s usually the one to hold her, so moments like this are rare. It just makes her wish she could live in this moment forever.

“You’re too warm,” Percy mutters against her neck. He kisses the skin softly, nuzzling against her. He tries to move a second later, no doubt going to grab her some medicine, but she tightens her grasp on him.

“Stay here,” she complains.

He gives in, resting against her once more. “Only for five more minutes, then I’m going to take care of you.”

“You’re taking very good care of me.”

“I don’t want the baby to be too warm inside your tummy,” he says.

She makes a sound of agreement but doesn’t move to let him go. “I wish we could listen to her.”

He stays silent for a while, and she thinks nothing of it until he lifts his head suddenly so that he can lock eyes with her. “Do you want to?”

“Is that possible?”

Percy smiles widely, wiggling off of her. “Let me show you something I learned not too long ago.”

As he runs out of their bedroom, she watches him in his childlike excitement. He bangs around the kitchen for too long, and it has her calling out, “Hurry up.”

When he does pop back in the door, his arms are entirely full. He’s holding a cup and a stethoscope, and of course, there is a fresh glass of water in his hands.

“You’re going to love this,” he says, nudging her over on the bed. She reaches out to mess with the fabric of his scrubs as he sets the water down on the table.

“What are you doing?” she asks when he lifts her shirt up and the top of her pants down right below her stomach.

He places the stethoscope tips into his ears, gentle fingers pressing the bell to her lower stomach. He places the cup over the stethoscope, moving it around slightly, and then a soft smile breaks out across his face. “Here,” he says, taking the stethoscope out of his ears and handing them to her. He helps her put the ear tips in, and she suddenly can’t wipe the smile off of her own face.

There’s a steady thumping in her ears that she knows is her baby’s heartbeat. It’s subtle, but it’s there. She begins to feel overwhelmed with love as her eyes tear up and her hand presses against the bump.

“You hear it?” he asks.

She nods, unable to speak.

Percy kisses below her belly button. “That’s our baby.”

“I still can’t believe we’re going to be a family,” she whispers.

“Mh-hm. You’re going to be the best mama.”

She laughs wetly, tossing her head back. “God, I love you.”

Percy kisses her stomach for a few long seconds. “It sounds like our baby girl is nice and safe inside of there right now, so why don’t we take care of you now?”

Annabeth’s hand darts down to press over his, preventing him from moving. “Just a few more minutes? Please?”

They fall into a silence, and Annabeth continues listening to the beating heart. It blows her mind that in only a few more weeks, she’s going to get to meet this baby, and they’re going to be a family. She can already see it, Percy holding their baby, maybe even dressed in a pair of clean scrubs, while she watches him talk to the baby like she’s the only thing that matters.

“You’re going to be such a good dad,” she tells him.

“Yeah?”

“And a super hot one.”

Percy snorts.

“A dilf.” “Oh my god, please never call me that again.”

“Thank you for marrying me,” she says.

Percy softens. “Of course I married you. I love you more than anything.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she admits. “You wouldn’t be listening to your baby’s heartbeat with a stethoscope and a cup.”

She smiles. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“You also wouldn’t have a super sexy, smart, funny doctor husband.”

She shoots him a look.

“You said it, not me.” “I didn’t say that.”

“Well, you called me a dilf, so.” He shrugs. “Same thing.”

Annabeth shakes her head at him, amused.

“Come on,” he says, sitting up. He pats her on the stomach and drags her up as she complains. “I want to make sure you’re okay, and then we can keep intruding on our daughter’s womb.”

“Is that a pun?”

“What?”

“Room? Womb?”

“Shut up,” he says fondly, kissing her on the forehead. “Let me take care of you. I’ll even keep the scrubs on.”

“Now that I can live with,” she says teasingly, pushing him away with her foot. “Go on, then. Play doctor.”

He does, but she can’t help grabbing his butt when he turns. He looks at her over his shoulder as he leaves, and she smiles into a pillow.

Yeah, she’s pretty lucky she married a super sexy, smart, funny doctor.

Percy’s words, not hers.

(Not that she doesn’t agree.)

[antihero-writings]

Before it Kills You Too (Ch2 Snippets 1, 2 & 3)

Fandom: Lore Olympus

Chapter Summary: When Hera gets into a car accident after a fight, Zeus has a moment to ruminate on their relationship. Written using the song “Wait” by Maroon 5 as a prompt.

Character Focus: Zeus

Please note!! This is the previous Ch2 snippets I posted + a new snippet (the new snippet starts with “I would venture to guess she was driving too fast.”)

I’ve been having trouble with this chapter for a very long time, so I’ve decided to post it snippet-by-snippet, because that seems like the only way I’ll successfully finish this fic. 

While this should be as close to the final version as it can be, anything in this snippet is subject to change when the full chapter comes out. (And, hey, to that end, if there’s anything you think needs to be edited here, please kindly let me know!!)

Im really excited about this snippet!! Definitely one of my favorite parts of the chapter!!

Thanks again SO much to those who support this fic and want to read more!! The fact that you want to read more really does mean the world to me!! I appreciate your kind comments so much!!

I’d really appreciate it if you could leave a comment and/or reblog!!! I’m not kidding when I say that makes my week!!

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Chapter 2 Snippets 1, 2 & 3:

Hera was standing in the crowded meadow, surrounded by her friends, laughing that girly little giggle full of sunshine that just about made Zeus’ heart ooze in a puddle out of his chest.

Her blue dress made her eyes look like two shimmering sapphires.

“Have I seen her in a dress that color?” Zeus inquired excitedly from behind the bushes.

“How can we know what you’ve seen?” Aidoneus muttered. “With you creeping around, you might have seen her naked for all we know.”

Zeus punched him in the arm, (lightly).

“I don’t think she’s worn a dress that color!” Posiedon bubbled.

“Thank you, Posiedon. At least someone can answer a question.”

“I think she looks like the sea on summer day.” He put his hands on his face, them sliding slowly.

Zeus eyed him. “Alright, keep it in your toga, Little Green Man.”

“Should we really be here?” Aidoneus muttered. “We weren’t invited.”

“Oh come on,” Zeus stood up, putting his hands on his hips. “Who wouldn’t want to see the King of the gods here?”

Poseidon grinned and stood up behind his brother. “No one!”

“Hestia, Demeter… assorted sane people.” Hades muttered as he stood to follow.

“If that’s sanity I’m glad I’m insane.” Zeus trilled as he strutted up to the entrance.

A cute pink nymph—(rather well endowed in the chestal region—not that he noticed!)—greeted them at the archway.

“Oh! Zeus!” She flushed and bowed. “It’s an honor. Welcome!”

“Why it’s an honor to meet you, my lady.” He kissed her hand, and she giggled. “See?” he turned to his brothers. “They’re delighted to have us.”

“I’ve got a bad feeling.” Hades muttered.

Hera was closer now; she smelled like summer, and she looked like it too. Poseidon was right about the ocean thing; she practically shimmered as she spoke with her friends.

“I’m gonna go talk to her.”

“Wait—!” Hades was soon swallowed by the crowd.

Zeus scooched behind her at lightning speed. One by one her friends began to take notice, their eyes widening.

Hera took a step back and would have tripped in surprise if he hadn’t caught her.

“Careful there, you might fall, Birthday Girl.”

“Oh, Zeus!” She looked up at him, the back of her head hitting his chest, “hi!”

That golden smile.

“I made you something!” As she spun to face him, he produced a little carving of a bird from his pocket. (And, no, he didn’t make it).

“Oh!” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, gently taking it from him, “It’s beautiful!”

All his responsibilities and stresses melted away with the sight of that smile, and he forgot there was anyone else at the party…in the world.

(…He wished he saw that smile anymore.)

Zeus’ chair was spinning empty at his desk before his assistant could say another word—

And Olympus wept, distant peals of thunder rending the sky into pieces.

Lightning crackled and cackled through his hair, creating violet tracks through the air, as Zeus sped through the sky.

It was freezing, and people were staring, but he didn’t care.

All that mattered was getting to his wife.

“My you look stunning.” Zeus sidled up behind his wife, running his fingers gently along her arm. “Is that a new dress?”

“New as that girlfriend of yours.” Hera grunted.

His eyes widened with shock, his voice with an indignant undertone to it. “Is something wrong?”

She paused a moment. He could see words fluttering behind her lips—(like they did so often, too often)—the words Yes you did something wrong, how can you not know?

He knew she wouldn’t believe him when he said he didn’t mean to hurt her.

“You weren’t invited,” she said softly.

“Not invited? Me?” He put his hand to his chest, like the thought of him ever not being welcome to somewhere was absurd. “To what?”

“The party, you nitwit!” She whirled around, her hair nearly whipping him in the face. “You just came barging in like you owned the place!”

“Well…to be fair—”

He stopped short at the look in her eyes, like two blue-hot flames.

He knew it was taking her a great amount of effort not to slap him.

“Do you know how long I’d been preparing for that?! How long it took me to get everything just right? I told you, but you never even listened, did you? And then you just barged right in!”

“Why are you so upset? What’s so important about a party?!”

“They were my friends.” Her gaze softened, and her tone became more serious. “They were—” Until she cut herself off, and her expression hardened as she whirled around, her hair billowing behind her.

“Bunny, wait!” His tone was softer too.

He wished she’d just turn around. That he could say sorry.

Was it really so hard? He should have started there.

Had he ever apologized for that?

He was always doing that; barging in where he wasn’t welcome. The world was his, yes but…he had to concede there were some parts of it he ought not just barge in on.

When he burst into the hospital, however, they wouldn’t dare tell him he wasn’t invited, wouldn’t dare tell him he couldn’t see her.

“Where. is my. wife?” Lightning slammed into a lamppost just outside the front door, shattering its glass box, and making the light spark, the rain pounding at the window like rabid dogs.

The desk clerk looked like she was about to pee out of sheer fear.

“Sh-sh-she’s not out of surgery yet, your majesty...I understand you want to see her, but I can’t let you…until-until they’re finished.” She was practically vibrating. “I assure you the moment she gets out, we’ll notify you.”

Surgery? He wanted to demand. She’s the queen of the gods, how could she be in surgery?

Electricity sparked in his eyes, trailing throughout his hair. He could say I demand you let me see her. He could say I don’t care! She’s my wife, and I’m not waiting! She’s fine! She’s the queen—she’s my queen—she won’t be hurt from a little car accident!

But there were some places he ought not just barge in on… and the surgeons room was probably one of them.

The lightning let out a sighing crackle, before he closed his eyes, his hair falling back upon his shoulders. It was then that he noticed he was dripping wet from head to toe. He sighed himself before muttering something like a garbled “I understand, thank you.” And turning to sit in the lobby. Behind him the desk clerk’s coworker held her to keep her from fainting.

He snapped his fingers, drying off, so as not to get their nice, barf-colored carpet all wet. Once he sat down in a chair—(the cushions didn’t have any cush to them)—a kid in the chair across from him scooched away.

He could have that kid lightly charred if he wanted.

Instead he settled for a nice glare, and reached over to pick up last month’s—(or maybe it was a few months ago)—issue of  “Goddess weekly” listening to the rain die down to a drum.

The same old gossip. Usually if he picked one of these up he’d check for any news he ought to be aware of. You know, as the king. Not to mention the ladies weren’t unappealing. Now he flicked through without seeing any of it.

Speaking of ladies, there was a nymph sitting across the room from him, her skin blue, her ears down, and a cute little half smile. She surely wasn’t in here for anything serious. She kept glancing from her own magazine to him—but not in a nervous way. If he wasn’t mistaken, she wouldn’t be opposed to a session of hide-the-German-sausage.

If he wanted he could take her there in a darkened closet in the hallway. It wouldn’t take long—(if it didn’t need to…or it could take all night). That would be a nice way to relieve the stress bubbling in his body.

—Someone was laying next to him, her skin smooth, practically glowing. There was rather a lot of it exposed.

She turned over, her eyes fluttering open, a small smile creasing her features as she rolled onto his chest, tickling his chin with her fingers.

“I had a wonderful time,” she twittered, and he practically purred, staring into those big blue eyes, glittering like river stones.

He pushed her green hair behind her ear.

“Is that all? I’d like to think a night with the King of the gods would be more than merely ‘wonderful.’”

She giggled. “No no, it was much more than wonderful! It was spectacular! Mind-blowing!” She threw her arms in the air.

“That’s more like it.” He grinned—

When was that again? Two years ago, or two days ago?

It could have been either.

Had he apologized for that?

Would it have mattered if he had? Would she have forgiven him? Would he have stopped?—

Bile rose in his throat, and he dove his nose so hard into the magazine he almost smacked himself with it.

His wife was bruised and bleeding, and potentially worse in a nearby room, at the mercy of some quack holding a scalpel and a few comforting words…and here he was thinking of betraying her for the…

How many times had it been now?

He threw the magazine back on the table and sank in the chair till his head was nearly on the bottom cushion, his lip flapping his he blew out a breath, making his hair fly up a little.

The kid and his mom got called, and seemed glad of a reason to leave.

After a healthy dose of moping he pulled out his phone. After checking fatesbook and playing a few games he decided it was time to open his messages.

He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted some sensible and non-conjugal company.

He scrolled through and clicked on a name.

A number of old conversations sprinkled the page, often detailing Zeus asking about getting together and the correspondent saying they were busy.

He thought a moment about what to say—(a rare occurrence for him)—before deciding any vague requests would probably get ignored, so he simply decided the boldfaced truth:

Hera’s been in a car accident. She’s in surgery.

“WHAT?!” The word was spoken aloud—and very loudly at that.

Hades was standing in front of him. If the king being here wasn’t enough reason for weird looks, this outburst had sent more than a few eyes their way.

Zeus did a finger wave at the nymph, before he grabbed his brother’s arm, whisking him off to a less crowded hallway.

The only thing here was a vending machine, and a few overly picturesque pictures of trees.

“How did this happen?!”  Hades shout-whispered.

“I would venture to guess she was driving too fast.”

“I could have gathered that myself, thank you very much!” Hades was clearly trying not to shout. “What was she doing?! Where was she going?!”

Zeus rolled folded his arms. “Does it matter?”

“Sure it matters! Well at least it’d be good to know!”

“…I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?! What do you mean you don’t know?! She’s your wife—!”

“I said I don’t know!” he kicked the vending machine.

The air shattered and reformed itself.

Zeus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, his voice softening. “I…I don’t know.”

Two sides of him warred. One wanted to shout at Hades. He expected him to know where she was at all times? Oh yeah, that would go over well with her. What kind of helicopter husband would he be then?

And yet, it felt wrong for him not to know. Like some sort of failure. She was his wife. Shouldn’t he? Shouldn’t he have asked? Shouldn’t he care?

Hades’ gaze softened.

“I upset her.” Zeus murmured. “We got into a fight.”

Hades leaned against the wall. He was probably resisting the urge to say he could have gathered that too.

Zeus leaned his head forward onto the glass of the vending machine, his hair falling to the side, his reflection vaguely eyeing him.

“We got into a fight and she…I hadn’t even realized she went for a drive.” He paused, observing the chocolate and chips sitting in neat rows in the machine. “Do you think she liked Twyx?”

“Huh?”

“Do you think she liked Twyx?”

Hades pondered it a moment. “Probably. She tends to like things with caramel in them.”

Zeus smiled wryly. “See? I didn’t even know that.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to ask her all your burning questions about her favorite candy flavors very soon.”

“That’s not the point.” Zeus whispered.

Zeus was feeling a little off-kilter.

He nearly fell into a three-thousand drachma vase.

Okay, make that a lot.

The sound of heels on the staircase. The white one they’d painted for that one event…what had they been celebrating again?

His hazy gaze made her glitter even more than usual.

“Have I ever told you that you’re like the sea on a summer’s day?” Zeus’ voice came out blurry. He put his hand in his hair, trying to look sexy, you know, like the kind of guy you’d wanna forgive.

This was met by her hair slapping him in the face as she walked by him. She paused a few steps below him, turning.

“Is that alcohol I smell on your breath?”

“I may have had one—“ He hiccuped, “or five, appletinis.”

“And this is what? An intelligent conversation you’re trying to have?” She folded her arms over her chest.

“Actually,” he held up a finger. The action made him feel off-balance so he leaned against the railing, trying to land in a sexy pose. “There is something I wanted to say.”

“You’re barely coherent when you’re sober, at least spare me until then.”

He rolled his eyes—(and made himself feel even dizzier).

She turned to go back up the stairs.

“Wait!” He shouted.

She stopped, looked over her shoulder, eyes narrow as a cat’s. “What?”

“I-hic!” He covered his mouth as if embarrassed. Clearly emotion was dangerous. “I wasn’t trying to get wasted! I just-hic!-needed more than three or four to say this.”

“Oh yeah? Spit it out Grape Sorbet.” She folded her arms over her chest.

“I’m…” he held on to the railing for support. “I’m sorry.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“You…You were right.” He took a step closer.

“About what?” Her breath bated.

“I just…I didn’t want to admit it. I couldn’t…” He looked away. “I couldn’t tell you sober.”

“About what?” The words had a rough edge to them, her chest heaving with breath.

Ah. She knew. She knew what he was going to say, even before he said it.

“I…I did cheat on you.”

“Wh-What?” Her eyes tinted red…but there was so much hurt in the word.

Fear and shame rose in tandem like ocean waves, threatening to bowl him over, and he realized that the truth wasn’t going to help at all. But all he could do was let it pour out of him.

“You-hic-You asked if I was with-hic—”

“Stop.” She covered her mouth as if to keep the worst words from spilling out, tears welling in her eyes.

“But I—”

“I said stop!” Her voice rang through the room like something shattering.

Maybe something was.

Her heels against the stairs, fast and sharp, and away.

“Wait!”

Turn around please, let me apologize, let me explain, I won’t do it again.

He threw up in the vase.

“Daddy? What was that all about?” The small voice made his blood run cold. “What did you cheat at? Were you playing a game?”

Zeus turned, horrified, to see Ares, hiding behind a crack in the door.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at her.” He breathed. “It was stupid, really.”

Hades put a dollar in the vending machine and punched in a number.

“People say all kinds of things when they’re angry. Doesn’t mean you’re bad, just means you’re people. Which…” Hades looked him up and down, adding under his breath, “I wonder about sometimes.”

“...You must think I’m a terrible husband.”

Hades grabbed two chocolate bars and handed one to his brother.

“I think you need something sweet, maybe a little hydration, and some rest.”

Zeus unwrapped the bar and took a bite, not really tasting anything.

After a moment Hades sighed.

“It’s not so simple as that.” Hades said between bites, “I don’t necessarily think there’s such a thing as a ‘terrible husband’ or ‘the best husband.’ I…I don’t even think there’s such a thing as good and bad people. There’s just…people. There’s just husbands. But there are rules that come with being a person, and/or being a husband and…” he paused, trying to choose his words carefully, “you don’t always follow those rules.”

Zeus fell back against the wall, looking at the floor, denials dying in his throat.

It was raining.

No, actually it was pouring. And thundering. The lightning was like cracks in a collapsing sky, and Zeus’s gut was twisting like the snakes on the head of a gorgon.

“What? You-you think you can just undo this?!” Hera’s words were biting. “It’s done!” Her laugh was wry and sardonic, like an ache in her throat, red tainting the blue of her eyes. “You can’t just fix something like that! Once someone cheats at the game no one else just keeps playing!”

“It was a mistake! One stupid night!”

“One stupid night, huh?! Then how do you explain this?!” She held up his phone. The pictures. The…Oh Gaia.

The snakes in his gut bit down, and he bit his lip looking away. He hadn’t known she knew about that.

“You’ve got it all wrong! That was just—!”

“I thought you were different!” She bit off his excuse, the anger cracked, and the pain was bleeding through, and he wasn’t the only one making it rain: A tear fell down her face, then another, her mascara running black along her cheeks. “You made me smile, you made me laugh! You saved your brothers from your father. And I thought we could make a kingdom—a world—together!” She shook her head, grimacing, trying and failing to keep more tears from falling. “I thought we could be something!”

“We are! We have! I just made a mistake! I—!”

“No, Zeus.” There was a finality to her tone.

Tears streamed down her face now. He hated it when she cried. She didn’t do it often, and whenever she did he was ready to smite whoever hurt her but…he’d hurt her worst of all.

“I thought you were different. But you’re—“ the words were like an antique vase, riddled with cracks. “You’re just another bad guy.” She punched him in the arm, and the vase broke, the defiance into pain. She punched him in the arm…but it was weak and far too soft, and that’s how he knew she was really hurt; she could bring the sky down on him if she wanted.

She looked down at her hand, twisting her wedding ring with a finger.

“I’m staying with a friend tonight.”

Her wedding ring tinkled on the floor.

As she turned and walked away the word rang out like he was hoping his voice alone could rewrite his sins and bring her back:

“Wait!”

She didn’t stop, didn’t turn, didn’t make any indication she’d even heard him.

“Please…Please just wait.” These were soft.

He fell to his knees on the marble, scooping up her wedding ring and enclosing it in his fingers, holding it to his forehead, and trying not to bring the sky down upon himself.

He’d seen her angry. He’d seen her sad. But this? Seeing her break for him…was so much worse.

It reminded him too much of another time. Of a scar on her stomach. How she broke herself just to be his.

—(And he wondered, for a fleeting moment, if it would have been better if he had been the one to break.)—

“There you are!” Said a voice. “You can come see her now,”—a cleared throat— “your Majesty.”

*

Notes: Aright, so this chapter had a few things I was unsure about I thought I’d ask about here!

1. Does anyone have any other clever play-on-words for candy brands? I feel like Zeus would know that she likes caramel in general, so it’d make more sense if Hades said “she likes [X similar candy] so she’d probably like Twyx.” But Twyx is all my brain came up with and I don’t even know that it’s all that good XD

2. I’m aware that the gods don’t call each other “people” they call each other “beings.” However, Hades’ lines don’t have as much impact with “beings.” Did the fact that I used “people” stick out too much? Should I change it to “beings”?

3. I know Ancient Greek wedding ceremonies are different from ours, and they might not even have wedding rings. But that image was so impactful for me I decided to use it. Should I remove it? Or did you find it impactful?

Please let me know if there’s anything you felt was inaccurate to their characters!!

Thanks so much for reading!! 💕💕